Categories: SOLD

After the turn of the century, in a small village near Mirecourt, France, noted violin maker Charles Delignon had a son. Young Louis grew up at the feet of his father, spending his childhood among the maple shavings and ebony dust. He started with simple jobs, roughing-out backs and sweeping the floors, but quickly grew in talent and skill. From his fathers bench, he went on to study with a ‘who’s who’ of the French violin world…Georges Apparut, Lucien Francais, Louis Billotet and Collin Mezin. He was only 27 years old when he struck out on his own to establish a workshop. This violin is a warm, chocolate brown with a stunning one-piece back and has a tone every bit as rich as the makers heritage.

“Sun, sea, breeze. Conviviality, social relationships, warmth, folklore… This is the Neapolitan aura that I was leaving.

Fog, plain, stuffiness, coldness … This is the Po Valley aura that I was expecting.

…But then, beyond all the stereotypes and clichés, what did I find to greet me?

I found Andrea Varazzani’s workshop, where the noise of gouges, scrapers, rasps, chisels, planes, the colours of the wood, the odours of fresh paint blend together in a wonderful synthesis.

And so, passion, dedication and cure give shape to the shapeless.…paying homage to the refined art of sounds”

Have you every rubbed elbows with someone famous? Taken a breath of the same rarified air as a celebrity? Emile Hermann spent his whole life doing just that. In the late 1800’s, his Berlin violin shop was the go-to place for the finest instruments in Europe. He spent his days teaching and working with famous luthiers like Simone Sacconi and Hans Weisshaar, while commissioning many of the best German makers to make instruments for him. And his clientele was no less famous. Most of the top players of the day came to Hermann’s shop for adjustments, restoration work and, of course, purchases. His most famous client was Jascha Heifetz, to whom he sold his now-famous Guarneri Del Gesu in 1922.

Emile’s standards were the highest, and he expected instruments bearing his name to be able to sit side by side with the golden Stradivari, rich Amati, and powerful Guarneri violins that his shop sold. This is one such violin. Made for Herr Hermann in 1922, it is in beautiful condition, with a warm, carrying sound, perfect for everything from Vivaldi to Stravinsky.

And yes, it sat side by side with that famed Heifetz Guarneri, breathing in that rarified air of Emile Hermann’s magnificent shop.

Labels are a funny thing…..Sometimes they tell us what an instrument is, sometimes they tell us what an instrument is a tribute to. Rarely are they correct, but they are so often a tantalizing trail of breadcrumbs, helping us learn a little about the history of an instrument. In this case, there are not one, but two labels. The first says, “fait sous la Direction de Leon Bernadel, Luthier- Paris” (made under the direction of Leon Bernadel….) and the second says “Couesnon, Luthier- Paris, 94 Rue d’Angouleme, Paris.”

So, which do you believe? You believe the violin. You believe the curve of the f-holes…. the shape of the button…. The arc of the scroll. In this case, the violin tells us that it is approximately 100 years old and that it is beautifully, decidedly French. And those breadcrumbs? They either came from a croissant or baguette…. whichever you prefer.

The sun was setting, and the air grew colder, heavy with the smell of coming snow. It was early in the season for the temperatures to drop this low, and the man huddled his shoulders against the wind, hitching the carefully padded bag up higher on his shoulders. He had spent the week working on an order of violin necks, his rough hands artfully tracing the curves of the scroll and smoothing out the sides where the ebony met the maple. He loved the satiny feel of the raw wood and felt a tinge of sadness as he rushed to deliver them to his friend in the next village over. There, his necks would be joined with violin bodies made by another family of artisans. Then they would be taken across the border into Czechoslovakia for varnishing and labels.

He knew that he would not see the final violins but was proud of his work. He was one of the luthiers that made the famous instruments being shipped to America under the name of John Juzek. He often wondered whose fingers would touch the ebony of his fingerboard. A young man headed for the conservatory? A wealthy patron collecting instruments to be used in parlor chamber music concerts? It made no difference…He knew that his work would live on, and make music, for generations to come.