Due Diligence and Purchasing a Fine Stringed Instrument

The provenance of a great violin, viola or cello plays heavily into its value. But how that is proven is difficult – and no job for an amateur.

The challenges and sometimes great triumphs of tracking the provenance and value of art and antiques has been the subject of extensive media coverage and even movies. The 2015 biographical drama, “Woman in Gold,” tracks the story of an elderly Jewish refugee and Holocaust survivor as she and a young attorney reclaim a Gustav Klimt painting of her aunt (Adele Bloch-Bauer), stolen by the Nazis in World War II.

But for anyone purchasing a fine stringed instrument, perhaps one that was improperly documented if not entirely misappropriated by malevolent forces, the due diligence process is severely impaired.

Many fine violins, cellos, violas, basses, pianos, and other instruments in Europe were looted by the Nazis in the 1930s and 1940s and never recovered. For more on that read below. But even instruments not subject to war and cataclysm can be difficult to document. We’re not talking about average instruments here. We are talking about the highest quality, fine stringed instruments for sale; fine violins, violas and cellos crafted by fine violin makers and certified by reputable and renowned experts that an instrument is what it is being sold as.

Why due diligence matters – and is challenging

At the outset, it needs to be established that the process of identifying the history and value of a fine stringed instrument needs to be undertaken by a professional appraiser. Sometimes an experienced violinist can help figure some of this out, but even then, an objective and trained researcher is still a good check on what is found.

There are several physical clues on when and how a violin was made: the woodgrain, varnish, and the shape, style, and size of the violin. The label, found inside the instrument, can be a defining characteristic, however it can also be fake (many instruments said “Stradivari” meaning ‘in the style of Stradivari,’ a critical and usually damning distinction).

The sound of an instrument might be its greatest strength. But because a violin or cello or any other instrument is also a product of its player, sound is an unreliable marker of the instrument and its history.

Documentation that includes bills of sale, reliable papers showing chain of ownership, and photographs can be very defining. But photography wasn’t invented until the mid-19th century, hundreds of years after the creation of many of the finest of instruments. Meanwhile, written documentation very often was lost in wars, through owner disorganization, and in the settling of estates.

Without documentation, there seems to be a matter of faith in storytelling that sometimes makes up for a lack of evidence. Vintage violins by the Klotz family of luthiers, who crafted fine instruments in the early 1700s in Mittenwald (Bavaria), typically sell in the $15,000 to $25,000 range, according to StringsMagazine.com. But one particular Klotz is believed to have been owned by Mozart as a teenager, and was the instrument through which he composed several concertos, so it has a much higher valuation. The story is hearsay, dependent on what Mozart’s sister said at the time, with no written documentation.

What was lost in World War II

Paintings are unique in their appearance, while violins are much less so. This impairs identifying instruments in the way art can be.

A pernicious aspect of what happened to untold numbers of fine stringed instruments is tied to a program of the Nazis that began in the mid-1930s. They literally had a unit dedicated to looting the homes of Jews who either fled Europe or were abducted and murdered. Called Sonderstab Musik, this team of organized criminals systematically cataloged and inventoried what they took. In France alone, survivors claimed 8,000 pianos that were missing. As reported by National Public Radio, instrument dealers resold instruments from the Nazi storehouses “on a large scale” without checking provenance or providing documentation.

So while it is possible that many important, fine instruments from the 17th and 18th century workshops of Mittenwald, Cremona, Venice, or Paris may indeed still exist, proving where they came from, who owned them and who played them most likely is lost to the ashes of war.

The Beginnings of the Cello Endpin

 The parts of the cello start at the floor. But the endpin wasn’t always part of the instrument, and the physicality of that changed music itself.

 

Aspects of the cello that most matter when considering cello accessories and parts: The scroll, pegs, pegbox, neck, fingerboard, strings, upper bout, bridge, F-holes, C-bout, fine tuners, tailpiece (aka the tailgut), and lower bout. Right?

 

Don’t forget the endpin. Even though historically this little peg leg appendage didn’t exist, the addition of the endpin – thought to have been sometime around the early 18^th century, when the Stradivarius version of the cello standardized the modern cello – proved to be more important than its lowly position might suggest. Prior to that, the cello itself was slightly smaller and held horizontally, akin to the violin, or held up from the floor through an artful and asymmetrical (if not awkward) use of the player’s calf, or with a neck strap. It is often referred to as da gamba (between the legs) style.

 

This latter method, propped against the legs, affected the sound, dampening the resonance of the instrument. Luthiers of the latter 17^th century had begun building bigger instruments, largely to transform it by angling the back of the cello to increase string tension. This had the effect of producing more volume. Also, the range of the instrument was further extended by lengthening the fingerboard. This larger instrument became unwieldy to hold by existing methods.

 

So as cellos basically got bigger, players needed some manner of lifting device. They tried resting the instrument on the floor, a short stool, a wooden barrel, or the player’s foot, each of which is depicted in art from the 15^th – 17^th century era. The first endpin has no credited single inventor, but they first appear in the literature and art of the mid-18^th century.

 

The first endpins were likely made of wood, as the oldest surviving versions are just that. Over time they added a rubber tip to increase friction (prevent sliding) and to protect the floor. They’ve subsequently been made of metal and carbon fiber. Added to that are endpin anchors or holders, to further prevent sliding. Other mechanisms to prevent sliding include T-shaped wooden stoppers that are tethered to the player’s chair. Any violin shop that specializes in fine cellos for sale will offer many solutions to stabilize them while performing.

 

Double basses have endpins as well. Due to the weight and playing position of the bass – more perpendicular to the floor than cellos, which meet the floor at an angle – they do not need anchoring devices.

 

Lest anyone consider an endpin a minor component of great music, an academic paper begs to differ. Doctoral candidate William E. Braun wrote his thesis, “The Evolution of the Cello Endpin and its Effect on Technique and Repertoire” (2015, The Graduate College at the University of Nebraska) to discuss how it expanded the range of cellists and compositions alike.

 

Braun’s extensive research and report (132 pages) includes how the endpin has evolved over time, particularly in the types of materials used. It looks at the alternative means of supporting the instrument, and how the endpin became the preferred method because it enhanced the sound. Also, the positioning enabled an evolution of playing techniques. From there, Braun posits the compositions for the instrument advanced as well.

 

To this last point, he cites Luigi Boccherini (1743-1805), perhaps a lesser-known composer but one who himself played the cello and therefore was inclined to compose for the instrument. His eleven cello concertos have technical challenges for the player, described in the paper as “florid passages and virtuosic lines in the high registers of the fingerboard… Boccherini’s virtuosic compositions would not be possible to play well with early cello postures, such as with the instrument held on the floor.”

 

So while it is called an “endpin,” its development and use really was just a beginning for cello lovers everywhere.