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.

The Interesting History of the Pochette

 

A scaled down version of the violin, the pochette was devised for traveling and impromptu performances. And, it helped Scots become Englishmen.

 

The innovation of making things smaller – from furniture size radios in the 1930s to hand-held transistor radios in the 1960s, and “car phones” as big as tissue boxes to slim smartphones of today – has a musical precedent. It was the pochette, the almost-pocket-sized version of a violin that was designed for its portability.

 

The pochette is about 60% neck, with a disproportionately smaller body and the scroll on the end. Pochettes (French for “pocket”) vary from instrument to instrument in size and shape, but only by a little: The overall length averages around 16 inches, with about 8-10 inches for the scale (fingerboard) and 6-8 inches for the body. Most are simply shaped like a fountain pen or thin fish, while others have a streamlined version of the traditional pear-shape of a violin.

 

These were not mainstay creations for most makers of fine violins. They were primarily made for fiddle teachers and those players who were dance masters. Both required some mobility – made easier with a pocket-sized instrument – and one can only imagine the impromptu dances that resulted by having this little fiddle handy when the libations lent to merriment.

 

Importantly, when Scotland was basically annexed by England in 1707, the pochette played a role in helping proper Scots to “English-ize” and be accepted in the larger new society. Knowing how to properly dance (as well as to drop the brogue and sound a little more like their countrymen to the south) was considered a social advantage. So a cottage industry arose among dance teachers, accompanied by their pochette-toting musicians, to teach Scottish nobles and merchants baroque dance moves in duple, triple and compound duple rhythms. The modern day equivalent is the personal fitness trainer who brings a sound system with him or her for a home workout.

 

There were a plethora of other names for the pochette: canino, creytertjes, dancing master’s kit, pochette d’amour, Posch, Tanzmeitergeige, Tashengeige, and Trogl-geige. Pochettes that were a long, slender shape were known as “sardinos” (sardines), while other more closely mimicking a violin were called “kit violins.”

 

The first historical record on the pochette is in the 15^th century, and they were in common use up until the 19^th century. Many still exist and they are still made today. Even the great violin maker Antonio Stradivari made a few, one of which is on display in the Paris Conservatoire Museum.

 

It’s possible to find videos of performances and tutorials on the pochette on YouTube. As the piccolo is to the flute, the sound from a pochette is higher-pitched. In compositions such as an aria in Monteverdi’s opera, L’Orfeo, it is a stand in for a bird’s song. But lacking the sonorous quality of a larger violin body with a sound peg, the instrument is rarely used in symphonic orchestras beyond creating novelty sounds.

 

So while miniaturization of many things create conveniences, the larger and original forms of such things as violins are rarely replaced.

The Gagliano Family of Violinmakers

 

The violins of Cremona and Venice might have the most storied histories, but the Neopolitan Gagliano family instruments have stood the test of time as well.

 

In 20^th century America, the music most popular among immigrants from Italy, and Naples in particular, is lively and very often full of comedy. That includes the Sceneggiata, a stage musical form akin to soap operas performed by Neapolitans Mario Merola, Pino Mauro, and Mario Trevi.

 

But among classical music audiences, and to violinists in particular, Naples is strongly associated with the violins and other fine stringed instruments made by multiple generations of a single family of renowned luthiers, the Gaglianos.

 

The founding patriarch of this family – which made fine violins, cellos and double bass instruments from the early 18^th through the early 20^th centuries – was violin maker Alessandro Gagliano (born in 1640). A native of Naples, he traveled north to Cremona where he trained under none other than Antonio Stradivari and Nicolo Amati. Biographers write that it was with the Cremonese masters that Alessandro Gagliano learned how to select wood that was as beautiful to observe as the music tones it produced.

 

Alessandro worked until the age of 90 (1730), long enough to train two sons, Nicola I and Gennaro, and four grandsons: Ferdinando, Giuseppe, Antonio I, and Giovanni. At least three great grandsons (Nicola II, Raffaele, and Antonio II) came next and continued the tradition of craftsmanship in making fine stringed instruments.

 

How good were the violins of the Gaglianos? It varies, and son Nicola I is considered the best insofar as the prices his violins sell for today attest. A cello by Nicolo sold for $744,178 at auction in 2011; his highest-valued violin sold for $258,600 in 2017. Beyond their market value in the 21^st century, Nicolo’s instruments are described as “as close as you can get to a Cremonese sound, varnish, and modeling without the word ‘fecit Cremonensis’ on the label.”

 

Contemporary virtuoso Rachel Barton Pine plays on a Nicola Gagliano violin for Baroque performances. There are 124 violins, 6 cellos, and 1 viola by Nicolo I known in existence has been sold since 1912 (per data from the Tarisio fine instruments and bows auction house).

 

Other children, grandchildren and great grandchildren of Alessandro Gagliano were prodigious violinmakers, each with their own labels (although switching of labels between instruments, and copiers from outside the family, make precise identification of the specific luthier a little more complicated). Ferdinando in particular was most productive, even if some of his instruments are described as “nondescript.”

 

The contemporary (20^th century) music from Naples that Americans know well – “O Sole mio” and “Funiculi Funicula” among them – actually follow in the footsteps of the great composers that came out of the conservatories of Naples. They include Pergolesi, Puccini, Rossini, Bellini, and Donizetti – names that no doubt knew the instruments from Gagliano well, for generations.

The Füssen School of Violin Making

 

While the Museum of Füssen commemorates its luthier-populated past, much of the violinmaking influence of this Bavarian town ultimately went elsewhere.

 

It’s curious to know what led to the development of great instrument making in Europe hundreds of years ago. Certainly, an appreciation for music is at the center of all the centers of violin-making craft. But in the case of Füssen, Germany, geographic location was critical to making it a center of luthiers engaged in the making of lutes and violins.

 

Füssen sits at the southern border of Bavaria, where modern Germany meets Austria. There, two factors made it a place where noted luthiers Johann Angon Gedler (1725-1790), the Niggel family, including Simpert Niggle (1710-1785), and Josef Alois Stoss (1787-1866) ensconced its reputation in the 16^th through 19^th centuries. They had access to the prolific amount of natural wood in the vicinity of the northern slopes of the Alps. Also, the town was situated on the Via Claudia Augusta, an ancient Roman highway.

 

The mountainous region around Füssen, known as the North Tyrol and the Ammer Mountains, provided the maple, spruce, and yew wood used to make the fine violins and lutes. And with its location on the Via Claudia Augusta, access to larger markets including Augsburg and Venice was relatively easy. Füssen is also on the River Lech, providing boat connections to Budapest and Vienna.

 

A third favorable factor was Füssen had (and still has) a culture heavily influenced by a monastery (St. Mang’s, a Benedictine order). The monastery is now the Museum of Füssen, where a collection of some of the lutes and violins made there are on display.

 

Notably, the onset of the Thirty Years War in 1618, and the arrival in 1628 of the deadly plague in Füssen – reducing its population by more than half – put a damper on the instrument making profession there. But while its reputation for creating great luthiers lived on, the actual makers very often trained there then left to build their instruments in other cities around Europe. Luthier Franz Geissenhof, referred to as “the Viennese Stradivari” for his finely crafted instruments, was actually a Füssen native.

 

Füssen lute and violinmakers were resolutely masters, with each instrument entirely the work of one man. There was no division of labor, which is perhaps a more efficient process and precursor to assembly line manufacturing that came with the Industrial Revolution. The fine violinmakers here presumably built with a greater sense of pride and ownership, knowing their instruments were entirely their product and responsibility.

 

So while the Füssen makers of stringed instruments really were spread out to influence the types of instruments made in other cities, this start-to-finish method also became the downfall of the town’s importance in instrument making. By the 18th century a more efficient assembly line method was serving lower-price markets, making the Füssen instruments too expensive – a factor of labor economics that affected almost every craft ever since.

The Stradivarius Instruments of The Met Museum

 

New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art has several Strads that are played occasionally. But should rare instruments be mostly seen and rarely heard?

 

The stringed instruments made by the famed Cremonese luthier, Antonio Stradivari, have household name recognition, beyond the sphere of classical music fans and musicians. “Perhaps it’s a Stradivarius?,” is the question almost anyone will ask when they come upon a violin in grandmother’s attic.

 

Such finds are unlikely – of the approximately 1,100 violins, violas, cellos, harps, and guitars made by Stradivari, about 650 survived time, accidents, world wars and the French Revolution. In fact, those that are true Strads are among the most highly prized musical instruments in the world. Five Stradivarius instruments (the MacDonald viola, DuPort cello, Lady Blunt violin, Hammer violin, and the Lady of Tennant violin) rank in the top ten most valuable instruments of all kinds, globally.

 

So when museums such as the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York (“The Met”) acquire a Stradivarius and other rare instruments (they have 5,085 in their collection), it’s a pretty big deal. Many are donated, of course. Some are purchased at auction. Instruments made by Amati, Stradivari and Guarneri, to name a few, are extremely unlikely to end up in a local violin shop’s catalog of fine Italian violins for sale.

The four Strads currently in the collection, owned or on loan, are:

 

The Antonius violin (1711)

The Francesca violin (1694)

The Gould violin (1693)

The Batta-Piatigorsky Violoncello (1714)

 

But a perennial question regarding these instruments is, should rare musical instruments be objects to observe or be heard? What is the function of instruments in museums?

 

WQXR radio (105.9 FM in New York City), a classical music station, considered this question about a decade ago (2011) with regard to the instrument then in the possession of The Met. The story notes that the instruments are rarely played – typically, three times a year – and that instruments that go untouched have diminishing quality when they aren’t used, similar to the atrophy of human bodies that are sedentary. “The more instruments are played and the more their molecular structure is resonating, the better they sound,” the Julliard School curator of string instruments, violinist Eric Grossman, told WQXR.

 

But The Met curator of musical instruments, Ken Moore, sees the role of the museum is to preserve instruments that show how the instruments were originally constructed. He believes such evidence informs preservation and future violinmaking. He also notes the occasional playing revives the instrument, describing it as being akin to waking from a period of sleep.

 

To this discussion it’s important to know that even the preserved versions of these instruments aren’t always what left Stradivarius’ shop 300-odd years ago. The Francesca violin, for example had its fingerboard lengthened, which extended its upper range. It’s had a chin rest added, wire strings replaced gut strings, and the sound post and bass bar were replaced with larger versions thereof, the better to project a stronger sound in larger concert halls. The Gould had undergone some changes as well, but was subsequently restored to the original, Baroque configuration as a means to return to the maker’s intent and the (smaller) concert venues of that time.

 

So when someone visits a Strad at The Met, the Smithsonian’s National Museum of American History, the US Library of Congress, the Canada Council for the Arts, the Chimei Museum (China), the Nippon Music Foundation (Japan), or the Musée de la Musique (France), it’s useful to understand the interplay between preservation and playing. As well as what the cello virtuoso Mstislav Rostropovich’s secretary told The Met when declining their invitation to visit and play the “Servais” Strad, then in the institution’s possession: “Maestro Rostropovich does not believe in the incarceration of musical instruments.”

Italian Violinmaking: The Amati Family

 

Stradivari is known for the greatest violins, but the likely inventor of the modern violin was Andreas Amati. French royalty deserves some credit as well.

 

The story of the Amati family of violin makers is closely intertwined with another, historically prominent clan: that of Catherine de’ Medici (1519-1589), the Italian noblewoman, queen consort of France, and mother of the French kings Francis II, Charles IX, and Henry III.

 

This was a time when the original Amati luthier, Andrea (1505-1577), essentially invented the violin in the form we know it. The Amati violins preceded Stradivari, Guarneri, Stainer and others for whom a greater body of work survives to this day. The story of the successive three generations of Amatis is one that emphasizes the strong relationship between the royal courts of Europe and the development of the fine violins, violas and cellos we know today – and the precarious place these exquisite instruments occupied as dynasties fell to revolutions that overturned the monarchies.

 

Andrea Amati essentially created the “violin family” –which includes the violin, the viola, and the cello – standardizing the evolution of stringed instruments from the medieval fiddle, the vielle, lira da braccio and rebec. Other luthiers were his contemporaries (the families Micheli and Bertolotti da Salo), but Amati had an important customer early on that propelled his instruments, and the family legacy, to fame.

 

(It bears noting that the evolution to the Amati violin form is subject to some debate. Some Amati instruments survive to today while evidence of other versions of the violin exist only in paintings and church frescoes. The depictions of those other versions from that time have only three strings and an oval-ish body, unlike the hourglass-with-cutouts form from Amati that has defined the appearance of these instruments for 500 years.)

 

Today, the auction house Sotheby’s has said about the Amati instruments that their “brilliance raised the status of the violin from a farmhand’s entertainment to an embellishment fit for a royal court.”

 

Indeed they did. The luthier Amati had made the earlier, three-string version of violins up until a point. But around 1536, when he would have been about 30 years old, it is believed (through thin but convincing evidence) that his relationship with the French court began with 4-stringed instruments in the form that Amati devised. The first cello, created by Amati, was called “The King” and made in 1538. This is around the time when Henry II ascended the French throne. Henry’s mother, Catherine de’ Medici, commissioned an entire ensemble of 38 instruments in 1560 from Amati.

 

Andrea Amati had two sons who were luthiers, Antonio and Girolamo, and they were succeeded by Girolamo’s son Nicolo, who is credited with improving on the violin in ways that created a powerful tone (referred to as the “Grand Amati”). Nicolo’s son, Girolamo (aka, Hieronymus II) was the last in the line of Amati violinmakers, living until 1740, a full 200 years after his great grandfather made the name synonymous with fine, royalty-worthy stringed instruments.

 

All dynasties fall eventually, including that of the French aristocracy. Of the 38 instruments commissioned by Catherine de’ Medici, few survived the French Revolution of 1789, a time when vestiges of both wealth and the Church – art, buildings, and lives – were destroyed. Surviving Amati instruments are highly prized and largely kept safe in museums, where common people can see them and study the journey of simple fiddles to fine instruments – all attributable to a visionary luthier of the early 16^th century.

Andrea Amati and the King Charles IX Instrument Collection

 

Catherin de’ Medici brought a love of dance from Italy to the French court. In so doing, she drove the enduring standardization of violins, violas, and cellos.

 

Hard as it may be to imagine, it was a practice in the 18^th and 19^th centuries to reduce the size of bass violins (bassos) to what we now know the cello to be. This was even done with one of the 38 instruments made by early luthier Andrea Amati for King Charles IX of France.

 

First, a little history on the collection:  The instruments – a full complement of the modern interpretations of the violin, the viola, and the cello – were commissioned by none other than Catherine de’ Medici (1519-1589), the queen consort of France and mother of three French kings: Francis II, Charles IX, and Henry III. The luthier, Amati, somewhat standardized these from earlier stringed instruments, part of how this music was elevated from the peasantry to the royal courts – an enduring legacy seen on concert stages in the 21^st century.

 

But while only nine of those instruments in the King Charles IX collection survived the destruction of the French Revolution (1789-90), one that evidently made it intact to 1801 was the “King cello.” Curiously, Amati didn’t originally make it as a cello but as a “basso,” or bass violin. Larger than the cellos Amati did make, it was literally cut down as bassos had fallen out of favor with musicians and audiences by this time. Rather than it be neglected, a Parisian luthier, likely Sebastien Renault, inscribed on the back of the reduced instrument, “Mended….1801” after the reduction.

 

That mending process might seem extreme, but in fact was done a fair number of times in this era. The Vienna Symphonic Library posts a description in an article titled “How the violone became a cello,” in which it says:

 

“One further characteristic of early cello-making should be mentioned: the so-called “cutting,” the reduction in size of large instruments to dimensions which have remained customary to the present day: the top and bottom of the body was cut off, shortening it, the upper and lower bouts were narrowed and the ribs made flatter. Not one of the instruments made before the middle of 17th century seems to have survived this rather gruesome-sounding hacking up of instruments.”

 

To initiate such a clear alteration of an instrument with such provenance speaks to the favored place of Amati’s standardization of the string instruments – even while disrespecting the larger original size. Andrea Amati was in fact part of several generations of Amati luthiers, however this particular violin maker was known to de’ Medici, herself originally from Italy and one who loved to dance. She is credited by way of this commission with transitioning the higher-pitched violin from its origins in lower-brow culture to the royal courts. The original collection of fine stringed instruments was made up of 12 “large” sized violins, 12 “small” sized violins, six violas, and eight cellos. The collection was commissioned by de Medici for her son Charles IX’s ascendancy to the throne in 1560.

 

So while only about a quarter of the original collection survives to this day, including one instrument in significantly “mended” condition, the basic structure of the violin, viola, and cello have endured to this day. Credit one queen consort and her love of dance.