Guarneri ‘del Gesù’ Part I (1698–

1731)

Although little is known about the early career of Giuseppe

Guarneri before he became 'del Gesù', his youthful hand can be

seen in the late works of his father and in a rare violin bearing his

'Andrea Nepos' label By John Dilworth and Carlo Chiesa

Guarneri ‘del Gesù’ has long been seen as the most enigmatic and least understood of the great Cremonese

masters. Amati, Stradivari and even Stainer achieved celebrity in their own times. Much information about them

was retained in the general record, and the gradual reclamation of their lives and work has been a consistent

building upon available materials. With Giuseppe Guarneri ‘del Gesù’, the process has been complex and, in the

past, highly speculative.

He was after all, just the son of the second generation of one of the ‘supporting players’ in a city of geniuses.

While Stradivaris and Amatis became the currency of the courts of Europe, Guarneris were more likely the

working musicians’ option. There is little evidence of Guarneri instruments in the inventories of the great palaces.

The first serious connoisseur of Italian instruments, Count Cozio di Salabue, took little interest in his work,

damning it as ‘second rate’ and ‘poorly executed’ in 1816. He also made one of the earliest references to ‘del

Gesù’s rumoured imprisonment, although he was doubtful about this rumor and made a note to check if it was

true. With rather more authority, he stated that the maker’s work could be found easily for the cost of two or

three zecchini each (a Stradivari would require ten or eleven, and a Nicolò Amati up to forty).

The earliest example of Guarneri’s fully independent work is the ‘Kubelik, von Vecsey’ of 1728. Photos: Peter Biddulph Ltd

Guarneri ‘del Gesù’s instruments remained largely within Italy until Nicolò Paganini’s first tour of Europe in 1828.

Well aware of the expressive power of ‘del Gesù’, he dazzled audiences from Vienna to Strasbourg with his

1743 Guarneri, which he dubbed ‘il Cannone’ (ID 40130). After that, musicians, collectors and dealers fell over

themselves in the hunt for more of Guarneri’s work, and it is interesting that it was for their tone, rather than their

status, that the instruments of ‘del Gesù’ became sought after. But their rise in value, to the fantastical £10

million that the 1741 ‘Vieuxtemps’ (ID 40433) realised only recently, is based also on the comparative rarity of his

work. A short life, not always focused on the vocation of violin making, has ensured that Guarneris are harder to

find than Stradivaris or Amatis and this has given them a particular value and interest that goes beyond their

intrinsic worth. By most estimates there are about 150 instruments extant; a poor figure compared with

Stradivari’s production. Nevertheless, it equates to about ten instruments made in each of his 16 years as a

craftsman; a fair and vigorous rate of work for someone who was once thought of as a dissolute jailbird.

As with many families of violin makers, defining the change in work from father to son is almost impossible. From

the Amati family onward, sons (as far as we know, since the contribution of women to violin making in the

classical period has not so far been discovered) provided assistance to the father in growing degrees of

confidence and independence as they grew older, but as long as the father was alive, it was his label that was

placed in the instrument. The son, however much he may have contributed to later work, could print his own

label only after his father’s demise.

The c.1731 ‘Messeas’ cello clearly shows the hand of the younger Giuseppe despite bearing the ‘filius Andreae’ label of his father

Many late works by Giuseppe ‘filius Andreae’ do seem to show the younger Giuseppe’s hand. How to identify

that hand is the trick. Two cellos are particularly helpful in this regard, both labeled Giuseppe ‘filius Andreae’,

one dated 1729 (ID 43989), and the ‘Messeas’ of c. 1731 (ID 40385), which carries the elder Giuseppe’s last

known label. The earlier example shows a distinctive difference in the working of the back and front, suggesting

that the front is the work of the younger man alone, perhaps finishing off an instrument left abandoned by his

father. This leads to the ‘Messeas’, which carries many features of the earlier cello, but is clearly all made and

completed by the same hand, that of the younger Giuseppe. So we can point to certain features that are unique

to the son and distinct from his father. The earlier instrument has a high arched back, familiar from other works

of ‘filius Andreae’, but the front is lower and flatter, the soundholes upright, broadly cut and widely set. The same

soundholes appear in the ‘Messeas’, as well as an overall flatter arch on both plates. The ‘Messeas’ also has a

very different scroll, narrow and quite Bergonzi-like, with a small, neat chamfer. These points are useful

indicators of the workmanship of young Giuseppe, who was then aged around 30 and had probably worked as

his father’s sole assistant for some 15 years.

The 1728 ‘von Vecsey’ has the only known example of a genuine ‘Andrea Nepos’ label, which predates the famous ‘IHS’ one. Photos: Peter

Biddulph Ltd

For the Guarneri family the question of labels became a particular issue, since both sons of Giuseppe ‘filius

Andreae’ left the family workshop and worked independently during their father’s own life; Pietro in Venice, but

the younger, Giuseppe Bartolomeo, close to home in Cremona itself. When the young Giuseppe separated from

his father he also broke with tradition and had his own label printed, describing himself as ‘Giuseppe Guarneri

Andrea Nepos’. Today only one genuine example is known, in the ‘Kubelik, von Vecsey’ violin of 1728 (ID

71858). This represents possibly the earliest example of his entirely independent work and is fully compliant with

the style and forms seen in the cellos. When he established his own permanent workshop a few years later,

identified by the ‘IHS’ motif, his work rapidly developed a new identity…

Guarneri ‘del Gesù’, Part II (1731–

1740)

During the 1730s the newly independent 'del Gesù' was ready to

experiment with fresh ideas, and his instruments from this middle

period show a Stradivari influence and a freer execution By John Dilworth and Carlo Chiesa

In Part I we saw how the young Giuseppe Guarneri’s hand can be identified in the later instruments of his

father, Giuseppe ‘filius Andreae’. The key influence seen in middle-period ‘del Gesù’ instruments, however, is

not that of his father but his aging contemporary in Cremona, Antonio Stradivari.

Although ‘filius Andreae’ was not unaware of Stradivari’s innovative ideas, his roots were deep in the Amati

tradition of relatively high, recurved archings and short, elegant soundholes with narrow wings. As Count Cozio

observed, the first distinctive ‘del Gesù’ violins are clearly modeled on Stradivari, with low, flat, powerful archings

and distinctive, broad soundholes with wider wings. The general outline remained faithful to the Amati form,

however, and though the execution became freer (a lot freer in later life), this model, handed down through three

generations of the Guarneri family, remained the basis for all his subsequent work. It is extraordinary to realise

that all the varied models and styles created by ‘del Gesù’ probably originated from one single mould, freely

used, and exploiting the remarkable flexibility of the Cremonese internal form to the ultimate degree.

The ‘Plowden’ ‘del Gesù’ is one of the finest middle-period examples and is characteristically small in size. Photos: Peter Biddulph Ltd

What is particularly interesting about the early violins, up to 1733, is the form of the scroll. ‘Del Gesù’ worked to a

quite original design: surprisingly elegant, narrow across the front face and first turn, with delicate chamfers and

detailing. These scrolls represent a strong departure from the forms used by Andrea, the Pietros of Venice and

Mantua, and Giuseppe ‘filius Andreae’, which are very consistent with each other and not always readily

distinguishable. The c. 1731 ‘Baltic’ (ID 40410), which has the earliest known ‘IHS’ label, has a fine example of

this type of scroll, showing the distinctive handiwork of ‘del Gesù’ .

This changed in about 1733, the time when his father seems to have become incapacitated. For several years,

up until about 1737, the elder Giuseppe seems to have supplied scrolls for his son, possibly because he was too

ill to carry out larger-scale work. The scrolls of this middle period revert to the familiar Guarneri type, somewhat

heavy in the working, with a broad second turn and distinctive ‘comma tail’ to the eye. This change caused

confusion among some 19th-century experts, who assumed that these instruments were entirely the late work of

‘filius Andreae’.

The c.1731 ‘Baltic’ (left) shows the elegant scroll design introduced by ‘del Gesù’, while the 1735 ‘Plowden’ head (right) was probably made by

‘filius Andreae’ for his son and reverts to the old, slightly heavier Guarneri style

The middle period contains some of ‘del Gesù’s most conventionally attractive work. These are lovely imitations

of Stradivari, showing a light, unselfconscious touch, but a fully developed tonal direction, with strong

thicknesses of wood, low, stiff archings and quite large, open cut soundholes. ‘Del Gesù’ also stayed faithful to

the principles of Amati construction, with the various pins, markings-out and internal structure used by them, and

therefore almost certainly the exact same technical method.

This stands apart from Stradivari himself, who seems to have worked in a unique way, arriving at a quite

different form and style. Both ‘del Gesù’ and Stradivari were highly creative makers, bursting out of the restrictive

systems of the old Cremonese school, but manifesting this creativity in different ways. The ‘Plowden’ ‘del Gesù’ of

1735 (ID 40418) is one of the finest examples from this period; it is characteristically quite small in size, achieved

by reducing the overhang of the edges, and made with the most beautiful wood. In fact ‘del Gesù’ wood is far

more consistently well-figured than that of Stradivari, who frequently used quite plain pieces and cheaper, native

species. It seems to refute the idea that he was working in poverty or desperation.

The 1740 ‘Heifetz’ contrasts remarkably with the ‘Plowden’ of 1735 and heralds the start of the extraordinarily experimental late period. Photos:

Peter Biddulph Ltd

Stradivari’s death in 1737 was a momentous event in Cremona. His influence on the craft of making in Cremona

was more than just as the best and most skilful, and of course the most long-lived of his peers. His presence

was felt by all the luthiers of the city – the Guarneri, Rugeri and Bergonzi families and his own sons – in keeping

a discipline and some sort of control over everything that was made there. After his death, things quickly

spiralled off in different directions. ‘Del Gesù’ certainly seems to have been liberated from the rigid formalities of

violin making. The differences between the ‘Plowden’ of 1735 and the ‘Heifetz’ of c. 1740 (ID 40097) are

remarkable. From 1741 ‘del Gesù’ seemed almost determined to make a radically different instrument every

time. Although one can certainly see pairs, such as the ‘Alard’ (ID 40444) and ‘Lord Wilton’ (ID 40256) of 1742 ,

and the‘Cannone’ (ID 40130) and ‘Carrodus’ (ID 40447) of 1743, experimentation and self-expression seem to be

his guiding principles.

This is what makes ‘del Gesù’ stand apart as the alternative genius of Cremona, the ying to Stradivari’s yang. Up

until this point Cremonese violin making had been about consistency, not just of a very high level of

craftsmanship, but of style and model. The differences between an Andrea Amati made in 1566 and a Nicolò

Amati made in 1686, or even a Strad made in 1726, are technically significant, but small considering the time

span. ‘Del Gesù’ was a true revolutionary, but there is a strong sense that he could only begin this radical work

once Stradivari had departed the stage…

Guarneri ‘del Gesù’, Part III (1740–

1744)

The radical brilliance of 'del Gesù' shows clearly in his late works,

as he cast precision aside to seek the ultimate in sound production By John Dilworth and Carlo Chiesa

After 1740 the experimental urge of Guarneri ‘del Gesù’ (see Part I and Part II) seems to have been fully

unleashed. His late work is impulsive, perhaps even a little frantic, but he seems to get to the meat of the fiddle –

the sound, the structure – without dwelling too long on the purfling or the finish of the scroll. He concentrated

instead on the simple purpose of the violin: to ring with a volume and power beyond that of an Amati; and

possibly on providing the profundity in the G string that sometimes seems to be the Achilles heel of the

Stradivari. This is often seen as the explanation of the ever-more fanciful soundholes, cut longer and longer and

allowing more flexibility into the front, allied with the very firm base provided by his characteristically thick backs.

The 1741 ‘Vieuxtemps’ has an extended body length of 35.4 cm and enlarged upper f-holes, giving it a Brescian quality. Photos: Peter Biddulph

Ltd

Brescia is often seen as the source for certain of these stylistic essays – in particular the extended body length

of the wonderful 1741 ‘Vieuxtemps’ (ID 40433), achieved simply by stretching the ribs on the mould, but producing

a very Brescian-like personality; he even enlarged the upper holes of the ‘f’ in keeping with one of the most

distinctive features of the Brescian makers. Of course, the energetic and uncompromised finish of all these late

instruments immediately invites comparison with the wonderfully rugged old Brescians, Gaspar and Maggini,

whose work certainly offered a powerful alternative to the old Cremonese particularity.

‘Del Gesù’s earlier scroll-making style returned after the death of his father in 1740: the narrow cut of the second

turn, the prominent eye and the light, almost casual chamfer. But he worked so freely that you can barely detect

the lines of the template within, although they are certainly there. In the volute he seems to have given up

pricking out the turns and cut them freehand, sometimes wildly open as in the ‘Cannone’ (ID 40130), or at other

times tightly curled, as in the 1744 ‘Leduc’ (ID 40448) or 1743 ‘Sauret’ (ID 40253).

The extreme contrast between the heads of the 1744 ‘Leduc’ (left) and the 1743 ‘Il Cannone’ (right) suggests that they were cut freehand,

without pricking out the turns of the volute. Photos: Peter Biddulph Ltd

‘Del Gesù’s reinvention of the violin began only a little cautiously, but the transformations he achieved in just the

last four years of his life, from 1740 to 1744, are astonishing. Even that can be subdivided into two fairly clear

periods, up to and then beyond 1742. From about 1740 he attacked the edgework with an almost electrified

vigour, tearing a deep channel around the purfling, leaving steep gouge cuts in the corners, and utterly changing

the appearance of the violin and the relation of the arching to the edge. The purfling remains consistent, the

narrow, thread-like veneers vulnerable to every quirk of the quickly cut channel. He gradually abandoned the

Stradivari convention of concealing the construction pins beneath the line of purfling, moving the pins further in

from the edge. While he extended the corners and eventually gave them his unique ‘hooked’ flourish, the rib

corner beneath, provided by the same old form, remained short and blunt. He experimented with extremes of

thickness in the graduation of the plates, with the back often exceeding 6mm at the center.

These are plainly conscious tonal experiments: ‘del Gesù’ played with the center of thickness, moving it down

below the center of the back to varying degrees, as well as varying the shape of the arch to a far greater extent

than any of his peers, particularly after 1742. Some of the late works maintain a Brescian fullness, while others

are reduced to a shallow minimum, with the barest rise only in the very center. It is as if ‘del Gesù’ was exploring

the limits with each instrument.

The wild soundholes, perhaps the most obvious and copied feature of these later instruments, do not necessarily

extend in length systematically. He never departed far from the basic Cremonese principles of soundhole layout;

the circular holes at each end of the ‘f’ that determine their position are laid out with remarkable consistency

throughout his life, placed and drilled relative to the edges of the plate rather than the center line. It is the curving

body of the ‘f’ linking the two circles that becomes ever more dramatically improvised, but almost certainly

manipulated with a sensitivity towards the effect on tone color of a longer, shorter, wider or narrower aperture.

While the slightly pointed upper wings are a feature throughout ‘del Gesù’s career, during the years 1740 and

1741 they actually become short and truncated, before developing again in 1743 and assuming a more

swaggering and asymmetrical stance, as if cut freehand like the scrolls. In his last year, 1744, the most obvious

characteristic is the extension of the lower wings into great paddle-like features that sweep around the lower

hole.

Almost tragically ennervated, the ‘Leduc’ is one of ‘del Gesù’s last violins. Photos: Peter Biddulph Ltd

Varnish becomes an unpredictable affair in the late works; sometimes lavish, sometimes meagre. The deep,

textured red of a Stradivari appears on the ‘Cannone’ and ‘Leduc’, but at other times it is a light, thinly applied

wash of Amati gold, as in the ‘Alard’ (ID 40444), ‘Wilton’ (ID 40256) or ‘Ole Bull’ (ID 40453). Nevertheless, it is

possible to make a convincing chronology of his work from 1737 onwards, with each radical change from year to

year, working through re-imaginings of Amati and Stradivari as well as Maggini forms, bringing us to the almost

tragically ennervated ‘Ole Bull’ and ‘Leduc’ of 1744. Lately Peter Biddulph has identified another contender for

what may have been ‘del Gesù’s last work, a fascinating contrast to the ‘Von Vecsey’ of 1728 (ID 71858). This

violin is a powerful statement of ‘del Gesù’s intent. Made of the poorest beechwood, a poignant lapse from his

former fine materials, it is nevertheless a defiantly bold instrument, as vigorous and challenging as any product

of his short life.

By 1744 Cremona had lost any sort of monopoly in fine violin making. Jacob Stainer had shown that mastery of

the craft was not limited to Lombardy, and there were high-quality, self-sustaining schools of lutherie in several

major Italian cities – Venice, Rome, Naples and Milan – as well as other European capitals. It must have

become harder to sustain a living as a violin maker, even in Cremona. The radical nature of ‘del Gesù’s work is

maybe a little lost on us now. There was no precedent for it in the Cremonese tradition whatsoever; certainly

some makers were less accurate in their work than others, the Guarneri family being particular examples, but no

one had ventured this far in experimenting with the limits of violin design and tonal function. Whether ‘del Gesù’s

motives were desperation, economic pressure or sheer creative energy may not be known, but his achievement

is understood and valued today.

A key characteristic of the 1744 violins is the extension of the lower f-hole wings into paddle-like features that sweep around the lower hole, as

seen in the ‘Ole Bull’. Photos: Peter Biddulph Ltd

After ‘del Gesù’s death only one last Cremonese maker, Michael Angelo Bergonzi, followed his lead. His labeled

instruments appear immediately after 1744, in startling contrast to the refined, Stradivari-like work of his father

Carlo. They have very definite links with ‘del Gesù’ in their free-ranging and improvisatory manner, and in

particular the rough-hewn soundholes. It may be that Bergonzi saw the qualities we prize in ‘del Gesù’s work

today and deliberately attempted to emulate them. But his own working life was short and he died in 1756, by

which time Cremona’s great violin making tradition had been all but extinguished. Lorenzo Storioni, born in the

year of ‘del Gesù’s death, 1744, began to fan the embers back to life at the end of the 1760s, and it is

remarkable that his early work is clearly modelled on Guarneri rather than Stradivari. But it took another 70 years

for Paganini and his majestic ‘Cannone’ to share the secret of Cremona’s last genius with the rest of the world.

Guarneri ‘del Gesù’ Part IV – the man

behind the myths

What do we really know about Giuseppe

Guarneri 'del Gesù' and how did the many

fictions surrounding his life arise? By Carlo Chiesa and John Dilworth

When viewing a ‘del Gesù’ violin we can simply admire the genius of an extraordinary master. But to appreciate

his work fully it must be placed in the historical perspective of what we know about his character and life.

Otherwise, his greatness can be obscured or simply overlooked as the undisciplined work of a good maker who

did not take his own talents seriously.

Map of Cremona from c. 1750 showing the location of the Casa Guarneri (I). Photo: Peter Biddulph Ltd

In our previous articles (Part I, Part II and Part III) we examined the life and work of this great violin maker as far

as history reveals it, but it would be wrong to ignore the myths and plain inaccuracies still surrounding his name.

It is important to show how they originated and how they have colored our views about the life of a maker who

was actually a surprisingly normal 18th-century craftsman, yet who exerted a huge influence on the history of the

violin.

The main source for the ‘del Gesù’ myth was Francois Fétis. In his book on Stradivari, ‘Antoine Stradivari, luthier

célèbre’, published in 1856, he added a few chapters about other Cremonese makers, including the Guarneris.

His information mainly came from J.B. Vuillaume, who in turn reported rumors collected from the last of the

Bergonzis (Carlo II, although Fétis refers to him as ‘old Bergonzi’). Fétis was writing more than 110 years after

the death of ‘del Gesù’ and it is hard to believe that any reliable knowledge of the life of a somewhat obscure

and minor maker (as ‘del Gesù’ was considered in the early to mid-19th century) still remained in Cremona.

Fétis wrongly stated that ‘del Gesù’ did not come from the Guarneri violin making family, and we can understand

why when we consider how unusual it was in Italy (unlike in contemporary England or Germany) to find a family

in which a father and his son bore the very same name. He then added some rumors. In his favor, one has

proved true: ‘del Gesù’ really did marry a German woman, Catarina Rota (or Roda). Carlo Bergonzi specified

that she was never happy with her husband and that she helped him in the workshop. We hope the first part was

false; we may never know for certain if the second was true, but it might be.

The record of Giuseppe Guarneri and Catarina Rota’s marriage in 1722. Photo: Peter Biddulph Ltd

The main core of the legend, however, was that ‘del Gesù’ spent the last years of his life in a prison, where he

worked thanks to the help of a woman (said to be the jailer’s daughter in some versions) who supplied him with

the tools and materials to make a living as a violin maker and even worked with him. This rumor was old: Count

Cozio of Salabue heard it in 1816, but wisely made a note to check if there was any chance it was true. Seen in

a historical perspective, there is no hope it was: if you had the unlucky fate to end in a prison in Cremona in the

early 1700s, you were not moving to a nice building with space, tables, light and provisions, but to a horrible

cellar waiting to be carried to a rowing seat on a Venetian vessel or to the gallows.

This record from 1729 lists Giuseppe Guarneri and Catarina Rota as living in the Quarter of Santa Maria Nova. Photo: Peter Biddulph Ltd

But if this is not convincing enough, there are documents showing that in every year of his life during the period

in which he worked as a violin maker, ‘del Gesù’ lived with his wife in a building in the center of Cremona and

took the holy communion in church at Easter time. In the middle of this period, in 1733, a priest dictated his last

will to a notary, and among the list of witnesses called to the ceremony we find ‘del Gesù’: clearly he was

considered a man of trust.

The identification of Giuseppe ‘del Gesù’ as the youngest son of Giuseppe ‘filius Andreae’ is beyond any

possible doubt, as the Hills showed in their seminal book on the Guarneris. He was baptised with the name

‘Bartolomeo Giuseppe’, but from the census returns we learn that from his birth the child was called simply

Giuseppe, the same name as his father (who in turn was baptised ‘Giuseppe Giovanni Battista’, but surely never

used any name but the first). The younger Giuseppe lived with his family until he married in 1722.

At that point he left the family home and stopped working with his father. In a notarial act written in 1738 he

stated that by then he had been living and working independently for 17 years, that is, from the time of his

marriage. We do not know what his profession was in the early years of his independent life, and there are no

surviving instruments to suggest he worked as a violin maker on his own. In about 1726 he started to build

instruments again, but remained independent from his father. This was a surprising choice: before him in

Cremona only Vincenzo Rugeri had worked on his own in a workshop other than that of the family, which by

tradition and law was run and owned by the patriarch. Setting up an independent business was an unusual and

bold action.

Both Fétis and Cozio refer to violins made by ‘del Gesù’ in the years 1726–29, all bearing a label with an

enlightening text: ‘Joseph Guarnerius Andreae nepos’, which identified him as the grandson of Andrea. With this

label the young maker found a brilliant way to let his customers know that he was from the famed Guarneri

family, but he was not the ‘old’ Giuseppe. At the same time, he cleverly avoided mentioning his father, who was

sadly in his last days as a master violin maker: in 1728 he rented the old family workshop to a shoemaker, final

proof of the decline of his working abilities. It took only a few months for his son Giuseppe to print a new label in

which there was no longer any reference to the family: by this stage, he was the only Guarneri luthier in

Cremona.

The label of the 1733 ‘Soil’ Guarneri. Photo: Peter Biddulph Ltd

The new label was used for the rest of Guarneri’s life. The short text reads simply: ‘Joseph Guarnerius fecit

Cremonae anno…’ but it is mostly famed because on the right it bears the letters ‘IHS’ under a cross. It is not

known why Giuseppe used this symbol, although it was quite common in the Catholic tradition at that time, but

thanks to it, about 50 years after his death, he earned the nickname ‘del Gesù’. In 1816 Count Cozio wrote that

there were two Giuseppe Guarneri makers, and the second used a label with a symbol referring to Jesus: in

Italian ‘il bollo del Gesù’. As far as we know, during his life Guarneri had no nickname and he probably never

imagined he would have one.

Giuseppe ‘filius Andreae’ had never been good with money, and we know that his health was declining.

Whatever the reason had been for the son to leave his father’s house after his marriage, he never abandoned

the old man. Their working relationship continued – seen in the last ‘filius’ cellos showing the hand of ‘del Gesù’

and the heads the father made for his son’s violins – and suggests they remained in close proximity, with the

young master helping his parents in their difficult old age. The old Guarneris borrowed money from friends a few

times, and when they settled their debts by selling a part of the family house in 1737, Giuseppe the younger was

present. On the last day of 1737 ‘del Gesù’s mother died, and three days later, to pay the expenses for the

funeral, his father obtained another loan.

Again the young Giuseppe was there, assisting his father, and if it is little surprise that ‘filius Andreae’ had run

out of money, it seems curious that ‘del Gesù’ was also apparently unable to afford this expense. A few months

after the loan ‘del Gesù’ went to the same lender to get more money, this time apparently to repay a debt he had

with somebody else. Considering he was working at a good rate, as the existing violins indicate, this sounds

odd. Perhaps he was acting on behalf of his father, as a reading of other documents suggests. In fact a

nobleman made a deed in March 1740 and again ‘del Gesù’ was called to be there as a witness. It was not

completely usual to find a working-class man in such a situation, and this again suggests he had a good

reputation: he would surely not have been called if he was a man with economic problems, or if he was seen as

dissolute or something similar.

The ‘Leduc’ of 1745 was perhaps one of the violins left unfinished after the death of ‘del Gesù’ in 1744. Photo: Peter Biddulph Ltd

Later in 1740, following the death of their father, ‘del Gesù’ and his brother Pietro of Venice sold the rest of the

family house. Having repaid the debts their father had left, they shared what remained, apparently with an easy

and friendly agreement. Four years later, the last four years of his wild genius as a maker, ‘del Gesù’ died in his

home. His parish priest recorded in the death records that after receiving the holy sacraments and last rites he

died ‘commending his soul to God’: this was normal behavior for a man of his time.

It is difficult to suppress the old romanticised picture of ‘del Gesù’ in his last moments, a crazy, impoverished

maker with a wild-looking instrument still on his bench, but we should not hide the greatness of this maker in a

cloud of legend. It is much more honest to try to understand him according to the facts we know, and appreciate

his humanity side by side with his inimitable genius.