The Violin Chronicles Podcast

Artificial Dolphins, heavenly spheres and Catherine de Medici taking her tween King son on a royal tour of the land to the sounds of Amati violins, this episode has it all.  Step into the opulent world of 16th-century France as we uncover the captivating story of the court of Catherine de Medici and a set of royal violins commissioned for her son, Charles IX by the violin maker Andrea Amati. In this podcast, we embark on a journey through the rich cultural tapestry of the Medici dynasty and their influence on the arts. Delve into the fascinating intersection of music, power, and intrigue within the court, where the resplendent sounds of violins played a pivotal role in shaping the Renaissance era. Music heard in this podcast is as follows. Aco home casts -  Timo-Veikko Valve Bloom – Roo Walker Make believe – Giulio Fazio Banquet of Squires – Jonny Easton ACO Home the Home – Liisa Pallandi and Timo- Viekko Valve Sonata representative Unfamiliar faces – All good folks Industrial music box – Kevin Macleod Transcript   After the demigod Hercules had accomplished his eleventh labour, giving himself a five-finger discount to Zeus golden apples, he stopped to rest on the banks of the Po River.  In those times, however, the area was overridden with thieving giants who plundered the small villages in the surrounding countryside. Learning of the hero's mini break in the area, the elders of the villages approached Hercules and implored him to help rid them of the giants.  When they said help, they really meant, you know, if he could do it.  Ever ready for a bout of fisticuffs, in no time at all, our demigod was able to kill all the offending giants and free the region from their reign of terror. The overjoyed inhabitants wanted to reward Hercules by giving him their most precious possessions. However, Hercules decided that what these people needed was a place where they could protect themselves in case new brigands arrived.  He couldn't stick around, he had heroing to do.  So he founded a fortified city and gave it the name of his mother, El Camino, which later turned into Cremona, meaning mighty. And this is the Renaissance take on why the city is called Cremona. Hello and welcome to the Violin Chronicles, a podcast in which I, Linda Lespets, will attempt to bring to life the story surrounding famous, infamous, or just not very well known, but interesting, violin makers of history In the previous episodes of the Violin Chronicles, we saw Andrea Amati setting up his workshop, the life of the city, how it was run, and the movement of humanism, its effects on education, and finally the reformation, the influence the church had on people's lives, especially those of the artisan class. Andrea Amati's workshop had been up and running for about 10 years when news came that the Holy Roman Emperor, Charles V, would be visiting the city in August.  It was all anyone could talk about. They were going to erect a triumphal arch, there would be celebrations, feasting, and of course, music. Everyone wanted to catch a glimpse of the ruler. The excitement was palpable.  Andrea Amati, his wife, and their son, the little five year old Antonio Amati, would have been in the crowd that came out to catch a glimpse of the emperor passing through Cremona.  But now Andrea is fulfilling a royal order. The violin is having a coming-of-age moment and starting to be fashionable to the point that the trend setting French royal court is making orders for Cremonese violins. And so it begins. What violin maker out there is unfamiliar with the phrase I'm looking for a cremonese instrument.  Join me as we look at the fashionistas who set the ball rolling. Every city wants to look their best if the Holy Roman Emperor passes through. They were still working on containing heretics, and questions still abounded on how the church would approach things such as music.  Groups of thinkers or academies were popping up all over Renaissance Italy and ideas about the nature of music, its purpose and power were being discussed. So I was, there was sort of like scientific things happening, right? You had Galileo and everything. And, and my, my thought processes, the music, I felt like they.  There were like music texts where they say, you know, it's, it kind of moves your soul. It has this physical impact. And I was thinking, it's not so strange that they would approach music in the scientific way, but in the same way as like, Oh, well, you've got gravity, you've got the stars and music. We can feel, we can actually physically feel something when we hear music. So we may as well treat it almost like a science. It's, they're doing all these sciences, like why not music? And it's overlapped into the religious sphere as well because it had to do with your, your soul and  your inner being sort of thing. I'm John Gagné. I'm a senior lecturer in history at the university of Sydney and I work mostly on European history from the 13th to the 18th centuries. So I suppose the first thing to say about that is that the ancients had a strong mathematical sense of music. You know, Pythagoras's theory was that, you know, you remember that the parable of the reeds and you cut reeds to a certain length and they make a certain tone if you blow through the top of the reed and I think the mathematical, I forget the mathematical, formula, but it's sort of like the length of a, of a string is inversely proportional to the sound that it makes. And so that was established in antiquity, but became increasingly of interest. I mean, people had known about that for centuries through the Middle Ages, but you know, with the advancement of certain techniques, interest returns to let's say the mathematical qualities of music. There was a huge tradition to draw upon. I mean, one of the examples is something like St. Augustine, who was writing in late antiquity, who wrote a treatise on mathematics, but it was all about music. So they were always kind of intertwined. Maybe the best case study to think about is the astronomer Johannes Kepler, who lived around the same time as Galileo, slightly earlier, and was very interested in this Pythagorean theory of music and arithmetic, he was one of the proponents of the idea of the music of the spheres.  Which has an interesting core idea, which is that if we think of proportion of distance, it can be the string of an instrument, but it could also be the distance between two planets, or three planets, or four planets. And so the idea was that we could, if we could imagine reeds and strings having a relationship of mathematical sound to you know, within the mathematical system, then why could we not also imagine the distance between the planets having the same kind of relationship, and that was an elaboration of a pre-existing idea that the spheres, that there were spheres in which all of the planets of the galaxy moved, and that they produced, therefore, a sound, which was not, let's say, a real sound, but resonated with your soul. So that the music of the universe was a kind of naturally God established harmony in which proportion, mathematical proportions from the minuscule to the galactic made sense and resonated with the natural proportions of, you know, our soul. And that's universal harmony? Yep, and then of course, then as you said, it becomes kind of it becomes a cultural trope. People begin to play with the idea of the music of the spheres. It becomes a poetic inspiration in the 16th and 17th centuries when poets begin to use the idea of the universal harmony, the music of the spheres to write poetry about, you know, concord in general between humans, between God and man, between you know, all living beings. And so it was a very powerful idea, which I think it remains a powerful idea to think that there's something rational and proportional in the universe and that it works on, let's say, scale of sizes from the, the minuscule to the, to the most enormous.  And so when you see like those Renaissance. because the violin is drawn in a very sort of Renaissance mathematical type way, would they have been sort of inspired by that idea of, is that, was that all  one big thing? Definitely in terms of the mathematics, I think, you know, that's part of the, you know, when you go back to the 15th century and you look at some of the most successful artists of that period, you know, just in terms of religious art most of them, I'm thinking here of artists like the 15th century artist Piero della Francesca, Or Leonardo da Vinci who was a contemporary. They all leave sketchbooks where, you know, they've got measurements of man down to the, you know, we all know the, so-called the Trivian Man of Leonardo, which is the man with his arms outstretched his legs wide and using a circle in a square. But artists had much more complex methods. Showing the proportionality of the human body about, you know, let's say the size of the, the hand to the height of a man, or you know, the span of arms to the height. So this is basically a workshop method for most art working artists was to understand proportionality of the body, which would then could be broadcast into other media. So, for instance, what made a building pleasurable to be inside? was the fact that it corresponded to a natural portion of the human body. And so you would build buildings in, you know scales that were scaled up or down from the size of a human. You know, it's either, it's like 15 men high or something like that.  So I imagine that probably when it comes to the design, the increasing complexity of the design of violins, this, there's something similar at work there, which is that artists and mathematicians already know how to think proportionally and to work out in sort of grids. I think that's the best proportion for whatever they're constructing, whether it be a building or an instrument. And I think that's probably what we see in development over the course of the 16th and 17th century, is the kind of m

We look at how the French Monarchs used music as a political tool and the symbols on the instruments Andrea Amati made were not just a pretty decorations but part of court intrigue and a declaration of war. If you're captivated by the allure of Renaissance courts, the artistry of violin making, and the power of music as a symbol of prestige, the musical court of Catherine de Medici is a good place to start. The French wars of religion between Catholics and Protestants were in full swing, this is even witnessed in the choice of instruments made by Italian violin makers and the symbols painted on them by renaissance artisans, in this episode we let these historical instruments tell their story. In this episode I speak to Expert Benjamin Hebbert, Violin maker Carlo Chiesa, Historian Dr Susan Broomhall, Fashion Historian Dr Emily Brayshaw and Historian Dr John Gagne. The Music you have heard in this podcast is as follows. Café Chianti – Jonny Boyle Bloom – Roo Walker The retirement of major Edward – Jacob Taylor Armerding Ambush – Brandon Hopkins Unfamiliar faces – All good Folks Harpsichord Fugue – No Copyright music A Peasant’s Sonnet – Jonny Easton Banquet of Squires – Jonny Easton ACO Home to Home - Liisa Palallandi and Timo-Veikko Valve Transcript   During the Middle Ages, Cremona was under the dominion of the Holy Roman Empire.  At that time, the people of the city were forced to pay an oppressive tax of three kilograms of gold every year to the emperor, which for convenience was melted into a sphere.  One day, fed up with paying this tax, the people of Cremona decided it was time to break away from imperial rule. And so the Mayor Giovanni Baldessio was challenged by the Emperor King Henry IV to a duel in order to settle the tax dispute.  Mayor Baldessio was able to knock the king from his horse, thus sparing Cremona from its annual three kilogram golden ball tax, which was instead issued to the Mayor's fiancee for her dowry.  Back in the city, Giovanni began to be called Zaden de la Bala by all, and he married Berta de Zori, a beautiful girl of noble origins, who brought him many landed properties as a dowry and a big ball of gold. In another version, which is probably more plausible for a civil servant, is that the duel that took place between Cremona's mayor and the emperor was not a sparring match, but a tournament of bowls, or bocce, and Giovanni came out the victor.  In memory of that heroic enterprise, an arm with a ball in hand was added to the city coat of arms with the inscription meaning “my strength is in the arm”. And this is why the Cremonese coat of arms has a hand holding a ball of gold. Hello and welcome to the Violin Chronicles, a podcast in which I, Linda Lespets, will attempt to bring to life the story surrounding famous, infamous, or just not very well known, but interesting, violin makers of history.  I'm a violin maker and restorer. I graduated from the French violin making school some years ago now, and I currently live and work in Sydney with my husband Antoine, who is also a violin maker and graduate of the French school, l'Ecole Nationale de Lutherie in Mirecourt.  As well as being a luthier, I've always been intrigued with the history of instruments I work with, and in particular, the lives of those who made them.  So often when we look back at history, I know that I have a tendency to look at just one aspect, but here my aim is to join up the puzzle pieces and have a look at an altogether fascinating picture. So join me as I wade through tales not only of fame, famine, and war, but also of love, artistic genius, revolutionary craftsmanship. Determination, cunning and bravery that all have their part to play in the history of the violin. Welcome back to Cremona, a city you can find in Northern Italy on one of the bends of the impressively long Po River.  Bursting with artisans and commerce in the mid-1500s, we return to our story of instrument maker Andrea Amati and his workshop. Andrea Amati was not a lone artisan in this city, he was surrounded by merchants and trades people, busy in industry. There were belt makers, embroiderers, blacksmiths, carpenters, boat builders, masons, terracotta artisans, weavers, textile merchants, and printers. Just to name a few of the 400 trades listed in the city at this period. I speak to Benjamin Hebbert, Oxford based expert, dealer, and author about Andrea Amati's making methods.  It's really difficult to know. I mean, so Andrea Amati, you've spoken about Brescia before and, what I imagine your listeners will have heard of is that Gasparo Da Salo is very much the established figure in Brescia. Before, they're kind of the same age, but Gasparo Da Salo actually comes out of a tradition which goes back centuries, and Andrea Amati turns up out of absolutely nowhere, and it's Andrea Amati who makes the violin as we know it. It's the thing that we're familiar with, it's the, it's a design which repeats itself throughout his family in Stradivari. Even to the point, there's a, there's a really interesting observation that although the Brescians were making viols and citterns and all sorts of things beforehand, when it comes to the violinists, the violins that survived, they're all copies in one way or another of what they were observing from Cremona. So this late starter, Andrea Amati, actually seems to be the starting point, even for Brescian violins, even though they come from a longer tradition. By this time, Andrea Amati had perfected the outline of the modern-day violin. He and his eldest son, Antonio Amati, were working on patterns and jigs to make the instruments for a royal order for the King of France. The order was for 12 large sized violins, 12 small sized violins, 6 violas, and 8 bassoons. Bass, violins, or cellos. Each instrument was to be decorated with specific symbols and motifs, representing the royal house and portraying an image of how they wanted to be perceived.  When Andrea Amati received the commission for these instruments, things were really starting to kick off at the French court. Civil war was brewing and no amount of entertainments by Catherine, the Queen Regent, was going to put out this particular flame. In the Kingdom of France, a great conflict arose between two groups of people. The Catholics and the Huguenots, the French Protestants.  This conflict became known as the French Wars of Religion. It all started when the Huguenots, who included not only peasants and the artisan class, but nobles as well,  demanded more religious freedom and equal treatment under the law.  This did not sit well with the Catholic majority, who saw the Protestants belief as a threat to their own faith.  As tensions rose, violence erupted in the form of sporadic attacks on Huguenot communities by Catholic mobs. The French monarchy, looking to maintain control, attempted to suppress the Huguenots by force.  However, the Huguenots, under the leadership of figures such as Admiral Gaspar de Colligny, organized and fought back. Several wars broke out, with battles being fought across the country. The conflict raged on for over 30 years, causing immense destruction and loss of life. The French court was filled to the brim with intrigue and power struggles.  Tensions between the Catholic majority and the Huguenot minority was only increasing.  At the centre of it all was the French royal family, trying to maintain control over a divided country. The king and queen, surrounded by their advisors and courtiers, were grappling with finding a solution to this conflict. Meanwhile, in the shadows, whispers of conspiracy and betrayal echoed through the halls. Allies became enemies, and trust was a rare commodity.  The court was full of ambitious individuals, each seeking to advance their own interests and increase their power.  One day, rumours spread of a Huguenot plot to assassinate the king. The court was thrown into a frenzy, with spies and informers working overtime. It was a dangerous time to be a Huguenot at the French court, and even the slightest suspicion could lead to an arrest or execution. The Amati instruments destined for the French royal court were part of this much bigger story that was unfolding and would involve many of the contemporary superpowers of the day.  Not only did the royal house have to navigate internal court intrigues, there were also the neighbours, Europe’s other powerhouses, all looking to France in its weakened state. Like vultures contemplating a wooden wildebeest on the Serengeti. To understand where Andrea Amati’s instruments were headed, we will first take a look at the woman who may possibly have been responsible for ordering them in the first place.  Catherine de Medici, the original Black Widow.  I spoke to Susan Brimhall about this fascinating woman.  I know we've already spoken about her, but we're gonna talk about her again. I got the feeling, sort of looking at Catherine, that she arrives in France and the king that, the prince that, what, was he a prince when she married him? He wasn't king. Yeah, he's a duke. Yeah.  So she, she marries him, and I feel like from the Duke, he was a little bit nonplussed about it. And then, she loses her dowry at some point. Is that right? Well, so there's a bit of a story here that, um. The Medici house, when she is a, is a girl, a young girl, is ducal. So they're a set of dukes.  And when she marries into the French royal family, she's marrying very much up into a royal family. So a ducal house is moving up the ranks to have a marriage with a royal house, and the reason that, I mean, normally a royal house will be looking for other royal houses to keep the bloodline at the royal level, if you like. But in this case, the French have been at war, uh, they've been at war trying to claim pieces of Italy which has exposed them to a whole lot of culture in Italy that they bring back to France, and that's an important part of this story. But they've also bankrupted much of the state.

Andreas life is coming to an end, war is raging in France and fashion is dictating how you can hold your violin! Check it all out in this new episode. As the violin making workshop of the Amatis in Cremona was in full swing, different members of the French royal family were trying not to get murdered as Henry of Navarre soon to be King Henry IV of France married Catherine de Medici’s daughter. In the City of Cremona already renowned for its violin makers we take a look at the different musicians and composers coming out of the cathedral school, Monteverdi being one of them, who would go to work at the famed Mantuan court, and the Amati Brothers taking on a pivotal role in the family violin workshop as Andrea enters old age continuing the family tradition. Transcript   It is said that many years ago, the king Agilulf destroyed the city of Cremona, and that for the longest time it remained a pile of ruins, destined to be forgotten with the memory of its people crumbling to dust.  But then one spring morning, a war weary Gaelic prince, encamped on the banks of the Po, with his army, near a pile of crumbling stone buildings. And it was there, as he was resting, that he saw an extraordinary sight.  A lion, but this was no ordinary lion. It was limping and appeared to be in pain, unable to walk on one of its paws. The gallant and fearless prince approached the animal, and the beast, upon remarking the prince, showed him his injured paw, cut and bleeding, with a thorn sticking out of the wound. The young man, showing not an inkling of fear, removed the thorn and healed the lion's soft paw. Just imagine the prince's surprise when a few hours later, the lion reappeared with a deer in his jaws.  Padding forward, he offered his gift to the young man, laying his catch at the prince's feet as a gift. The mysterious prince left with his army the very next morning, but as they were setting off, who should appear but the faithful lion, who would go on and follow him wherever he would go.  When they reached Rome, the prince realized that the ruined city where he had encamped and met his beloved lion was the city of Cremona. And so, as he made his way once again through the countryside, he headed for the ruins of this city.  But tragically, on the way, his trusty lion died. And so, upon reaching the city, the Gaelic prince decided to rebuild Cremona.  Firstly, he buried the lion, and on that spot, he built an incredibly tall tower, called the Torazzo. This is the bell tower of the cathedral in Cremona.  And on top of this tower, for a very long time, was a majestic bronze statue of a lion in the act of raising his paw towards the prince.  A few centuries after the lion was placed on the tower, the bronze animal was melted down and fashioned into a large bell that was placed in the tower. And as the bell rings, the memory of the faithful lion lives on.  Today, there are at least 13 lions dotted along the facade of the baptistery, and more in front of the cathedral.  Perhaps one of these fierce felines was the prince's faithful friend.  And this is the legend of the Lion of Cremona. Hello and welcome to the Violin Chronicles, a podcast in which I, Linda Lespets, will attempt to bring to life the story surrounding famous, infamous, or just not very well known, but interesting violin makers of history.  I'm a violin maker and restorer. I graduated from the French violin making school of Mirecourt some years ago now, and I currently live and work in Sydney with my husband Antoine, who is also a violin maker. In the last episode of the Violin Chronicles, we looked at Andrea Amati perfecting the outline of the modern day violin and the French court under King Charles IX, Catherine de Medici's heavy influence as regent on her young son, and the significance of the images painted on the instruments ordered for the king, who was indeed a music loving monarch. And finally, the Amatis working methods that led in part to their success as instrument makers.  Almost five years after the royal tour, Andrea Amati is now 65. His place as a master instrument maker is undisputed. He has received orders from the King of France, no less.  His production would have been different to that of violin makers today, in that he would have had to have been more flexible, making different sized and shaped instruments of the Renaissance era. He would have simply been following the fashion and client demand of the time. I talked to fashion historian Dr. Emily Brayshaw about what people would have looked like back then and what musicians in particular would have worn.  So you've got farthingale sleeves on the men even, but and what it would do though is if you sort of look at these portraits of musicians and portraits of them playing instruments too, you can sort of get an idea of how they moved with that. So, you know, if you've got a massive ruff which is, you know, your 1580s fashion, you're not going to be sticking your instrument under your chin. You know, there's too much ruff, there's too much lace, there's too much collar. So you might be holding it lower down, perhaps against your upper pecs.  If it's a violin you'll be like playing it gamba style on, your lap, you know, or if they're bigger, got variations of them resting on the floor, these kinds of things. So yeah, it's definitely going to be influencing how you're playing your instruments too. And then, the elbows as well, to be able to move your elbows. That's always an issue. It is an issue. Yeah, absolutely. It is an issue. And if you can, you sort of see photos of like these big farthingale sleeves, these slashed sleeves you know, big puffed sleeves, these kinds of things. You're not going to be raising your arms too high above your head. And certainly there would be outfits that they required movement in, you know, like if you're going into battle, you want full mobility or you're training for fighting or these sorts of things. So what's interesting in a lot of these illustrations is they're very idealized bodies coming from the art conventions of the Renaissance that were looking to classical Greek and Roman statues.  And in portraits of the era, these shoulders are, we can see in these portraits, the neckline sits right down around the upper forearms particularly over the shoulder.  Dress. Yeah, here we've got this here in a Mary Princess Royal portrait and we've got like this really low down cut down and it would have been very very difficult to raise your arms and your elbow, elbows would have been set right down and we see this a lot in like the Peter Lely portraits. Yes, so there's a lovely portrait of a woman playing a gamba that we sort of see with that and she's got one of these gowns on and we see the shoulders sloping and falling again with menswear of the 1650s too.  But yeah, these sloping shoulders that we're seeing in the 1650s would have contributed to that. You know, the elbows being kept closer to the body, keeping your body front on, the instrument being held lower against the layers of fabric, and then playing like that, being everything being held close in. Yeah, yeah. So the, the classic gamba playing posture would have worked. Oh, would have worked perfectly. Having to stick your elbows out or lift an instrument high just wouldn't have worked. No, no, so that's why they're instruments. You know, we do still have pictures of violins being played quite low and held quite low. And then there was often you would accompany yourself by singing and playing the violin. Yeah, and you could do that because it's not tucked under your chin. So that's our 1605 kind of look there.  Wow, I mean you've got a platform that you could rest your scones on. Yeah, I mean I'd feel like if I was a man with all that fabric on, I would just feel like putting the instrument next to me, like it would just feel like a stretch holding it the way we do now? Yeah, I think so, given that there were lots and lots of layers under these too, so you know, again, it's all part of the layering. And also, even though you don't have, like in the 1600s now, you don't have these massive, ruffs in most of Europe. The Dutch held on to the ruffs and these big sort of cartwheel collars for a lot longer than the rest of Europe. You know, you've got what's known as a falling band, so the lace collars are coming down. You still do have a little bit of a rise on the collars as well. So you've still got, you know, like these collars would not have been necessarily ideal for holding your instrument against it so it's probably going to be held a bit lower, further down the, further down the shoulder. And we see that in images too, you know, the images slung under the shoulder.  All of this stuff was just mind bogglingly expensive. So not only would you have your portrait painted and that cost an absolute motza, you'd be wearing your absolute finest clothes for it. Were you saying it was like half a million? Like Oh, and the rest, like in today's money, in today's outfit would, yeah, just one outfit for the portrait that you're wearing would be half a million dollars plus all the other things that were often in your portrait as well. So they're kind of a bit like a selfie filter where you are. You know, flexing, showing your cash. So, for example, you know, if you were there playing a gamba in a portrait or playing an instrument in a portrait you'd be showing that yes, you're musical, you're cultured, you're, you know, you're part of this, you know, this ideal humanistic world that values the humanities, but also you can afford One of these really expensive instruments too. It's another layer of wealth. It is another layer of wealth, yeah, and there's a lot of layers of wealth in these portraits that get built up. Even things like oriental carpets, they're extremely expensive, so some people would have them on a table. Because they're so expensive that you wouldn't have them on the ground. But then you get like the next lev

The sons of Andrea , "The Amati Brothers" took violas, violins and cellos to new heights with their incredible skill and innovation. Meet Antonio and Girolamo before things get complicated in this first episode. This is the story of the Amati brothers, Antonio, and Girolamo. Join me as we explore the remarkable craftsmanship, profound influence, and indelible mark left by these legendary violin makers.  Discover the distinctive characteristics of their creations, renowned for their elegance, exquisite sound, and unparalleled craftsmanship.  Delve into the secrets of the Amati brothers' workshop, uncovering their innovative techniques, meticulous attention to detail, and the artistry that made their instruments treasures coveted by musicians and collectors worldwide. In this episode I speak to Cellist James Beck and Violin maker and Expert Carlo Chiesa.    Transcript of Episode  Welcome back to Cremona, a city where you can find almost anything your everyday Renaissance citizen could desire.  Located on a bend of the impressively long Po River, bursting with artisans and commerce, we find ourselves in the mid-1500s, and more precisely in the home of Girolamo Amati and Antonio Amati, otherwise known as the Amati brothers or the brothers Amati. In these episodes, I'll be talking about Andrea Amati’s two sons, Antonio Amati and Girolamo Amati. Sometimes Girolamo Amati is also referred to as Hieronymus, the Latin version of his name.  Because I'm doing these podcasts chronologically, we heard about the early childhood of the brothers, in the Andrea Amati episodes. As we heard in the previous episode, Antonio Amati, the elder brother, by quite some years, perhaps even 14 years older than Girolamo Amati, inherited his father's workshop with his little bro when their father died.  They grew up in Cremona during the mid-1500s, in a time that was relatively more peaceful than their father's childhood and would have attended the local school. The local school was attended mainly by children of merchants and nobles. They would learn, in addition to the traditional subjects of geometry, arithmetic, and even astrology, subjects such as geography, architecture, algebra, and mechanics, both theoretical and applied. This created quite a well-educated middle class that the brothers would have been part of. Like their father, they would go on to be quite successful in their business, adapting their products to the demands of the time. The brothers were growing up in post Reformation Cremona, and the instrumental music was bounding forward. Renaissance composers were fitting words and music together in an increasingly dramatic fashion. Humanists were studying the ancient Greek treaties on music and the relationships between music and poetry and how it could.  This was displayed in Madrigals and later in opera and all the while the Amati workshop along with other instrument makers of course were toiling away making instruments so that all this could happen. Now the eldest brother Antonio Amati never appears to marry or have a family but the younger brother Girolamo Amati apparently a ladies man, does and as you would have heard in the previous episodes, when he was 23, he married Lucrencia Cronetti, a local girl, and she comes to live in the Amati house, handing over her dowry to her new husband (Girolamo Amati) and father in law (Andrea Amati). A few years later, Girolamo Amati’s father saved up enough money to buy the family home so that when he passes away in 1576. Girolamo Amati is in his mid-twenties and his older brother (Antonio Amati) is probably around his late thirties. They inherited a wealthy business, a house, and a workshop.  So here we find the Amati brothers living and working together in the house and workshop in San Faustino (Cremona). Antonio Amati, the head of the household and Girolamo Amati with his young bride. Business is looking good, and life looks promising. Antonio and Girolamo may have been some of the only violin makers in Cremona, but they were by far not lone artisans in the city. They were surrounded by merchants and tradespeople busy in industry. There were belt makers, embroiderers, blacksmiths, carpenters, boat builders, masons, terracotta artisans, weavers, textile merchants, and printers, just to name a few of the 400 trades listed in the city at this period. Business was going well for our violin makers. There was a boom in the city. Many noble houses were being built amongst which the grand residences of merchants stood out, sanctioning their social ascent.  Charitable houses, monasteries and convents were popping up like mushrooms around town.  Ever since the Counter Reformation, the local impetus to help the poor and unfortunate had flourished. Wondering what the Counter Reformation is? Then go back and listen to episode two of the Andrea Amati series. Where we talk about what the Reformation was, what the Counter Reformation was, and what its effects were on artisans in Cremona.  But nowhere said organized religion like the Cathedral. And entering the vast, echoey structure was something to behold, with its mysterious, awe-inspiring grandeur, the towering heights of the ceilings inspiring a sense of reverence and humility. The vaulted arches and frescoed domes drawing the eye upwards, the kaleidoscope of colors entering the windows, and the glittering of precious metals illuminated by flickering candles, ornate furnishings, intricate artworks, sculptures, and base reliefs with depictions of saints, biblical stories, and the scenes from the life of Christ covering the walls, all created an otherworldly feeling and a sense of the divine.  And what would the Cathedral be without music? The glittering of gold, the fragrant smell of incense, and the heavenly sounds of music were an all-in-one package for the regular church attender in the Amati Brothers Day. The Chapel House School of the Cathedral produced many talented composers, yet the church would only sponsor and permit sacred music. And even then, this music had to be in full compliance with the Council of Trent. This meant following a whole bunch of rules in composition. Wing clipping of aspiring young composers led to many of them moving away to other courts and cities who were looking for fresh, raw talent. This may or may not have been the case for a musician and composer called Claudio Monteverdi. But what we do know is that he left Cremona to join the employ of the Mantuan court at the age of 23.  I spoke to cellist James Beck about Monteverdi, who was a Cremonese composer who left the city to work at the Gonzaga court during the Amati brother’s lifetime. And so Monteverdi, for example, to take him as an example, he was employed in the court, in the Manchurian court, and he was just one of many musicians and  composers. And also I'm wondering about just, the everyday life, would they also,  were musicians expected to, to wear certain.  Clothes, like they were just told, look, this is what you're wearing. James Beck Livery is the term for the, the uniform of the house. And we know about that kind of stuff from, you know, Downton Abbey and all that kind of stuff so musicians were very much part of the servant class, a very intellectual servant class and a very trusted servant class, but Monteverdi arrived at that Gonzaga court in Mantua as a string instrument player of some kind. We don't really know if it was a gamba, you know, between the legs or brachio held like a violin. He was at the court for about, I think, 10 or 15 years as a string player before he became The Maestro de Capelle and of course that was a very trusted employee because he accompanied his employer, the Duke, on various war campaigns or social outings to other countries, as a musician and maybe as some kind of trusted part of the entourage. So, Monteverdi was picking up lots of ideas about things that could go on in music because he was witnessing different practices, he was in Flanders. He was in Hungary. He was in other parts of Italy seeing how they did music over there on the other side of the fence and I think that is what can never be underestimated, that communication was haphazard and accidental in previous times and there was no such thing as uniformity. So, to go to another country and to go to another court and to see musicians who had different training or had come into different spheres of influence to yourself would have been hugely, hugely exciting and influential and we think that Monteverdi picked up some of the ideas of what might be opera from these kind of trips. Linda Lespets It makes me think of when I was a student and I would do work experience in different workshops and they would, I had been taught in French school, it was a very specific way of doing things and I'd go to another workshop and I'd just be like, wow, it's like, what are you, what are you doing? How could this possibly work? And it does. And you're like, oh, and now I feel like I, the way I work, it's a mixture of all these different techniques. What works best for me. And it must've been magnified so much, to such a greater level for in that period for music and competition. Because of the, because of the social isolation and the geographic isolation of previous times. James Beck And I mean, just if we just talk about pitch, whole idea of what is An A was different in each town, and it might have sounded better on some instruments than not so good on others, and those instruments would have been, you know, crafted to sound good at those different pitches. And now we all play the same pitch, and we want every instrument to be the same. What were some of the, if you could generalize, what were some of the differences for you? In the different Lutherie schools. Linda Lespets  So, in the French method, you basically hold everything in your hands or it's like wedged between you and the workbench and you don't use really, uh, vices. And I have quite small hands and  I did one

Continue listening to the tale of the Amati brothers to help understand who made which instruments from now on.  Is the violin making center of Italy the most boring city in the world? Well, we will see what 16th century tourists think in this episode continuing the story of the master violin makers that are the Amati Brothers. Violin maker and expert Carlo Chiesa talks to us about the Amati Brothers and why they had such a big falling out as does Oxford based violin expert Benjamin Hebbert. We hear from Ilya Isakovich violinist in the Australian Chamber Orchestra who plays on an Amati Brothers violin and the history of that particular violin.   Transcript   In the autumn of 1441, in the city of Cremona, a great wedding was taking place between two powerful families. The bride, 16 year old Bianca Maria Visconti, was the daughter of the Duke of Milan, and the groom, 40 year old Francesco Sforza, was a brave warrior and trusted advisor to the Duke.  As the wedding feast was being prepared, disaster struck. A great drought had struck the land, and the city of Cremona was left without the necessary ingredients to create a grand dessert for the occasion.  The cooks and chefs frantically searched for a solution, but to no avail.  Desperate, one of the chefs had a brilliant idea.  He decided to take what little sugar and almonds they had left and mix them together with some honey. He cooked the mixture until it became a soft, chewy confection that could be cut into small pieces. He then shaped the nougat, or torrone, into the form of the city's famous Torazzo bell tower.  When the wedding guests were served the nougat, they were amazed at the sweet, nutty flavour and chewy texture of the new dessert. They exclaimed that it was the most delicious treat that they had ever tasted, and they begged the chef to reveal the secret of its creation.  From that day on, the recipe for the nougat was passed down from generation to generation, becoming a beloved part of Italian culinary tradition. The nougat was said to have been a symbol of the ingenuity and creativity of Italian chefs, who could turn even the most meagre ingredients into something truly magical. This is the legend of Cremona's Nougat, and to this day you can buy Nougat shaped as the Torazzo Tower. Hello and welcome to the Violin Chronicles, a podcast in which I, Linda Lespets, will attempt to bring to life the story surrounding famous, infamous, or just not very well known, but interesting violin makers of history.  I'm a violin maker and restorer. I graduated from the French Violin Making School of Mirecourt some years ago now, and I currently live and work in Sydney with my husband Antoine Lespets, who is also a violin maker and graduate of the French school, l'Ecole Nationale de Luthier, in Mircourt. As well as being a luthier, I've always been intrigued with the history of instruments I work with, and in particular, the lives of those who made them.  So often when we look back at history, I know that I have a tendency to look at just one aspect, but here my aim is to join up the puzzle pieces and have a look at an altogether fascinating picture. Welcome back to the story of the Amati brothers. In the last episode, we left them in the midst of a busy and productive period in their lives. Girolamo Amati, the youngest brother, is now a widower after his wife Lucrenzia died shortly after the birth of their daughter Elizabeth.  The brother's father, Antonio Amati, has passed away and Cremona, being Cremona, was insanely busy with its influx of merchants and soldiers passing through, and never far from drama and disaster, as we will see. Because of continual war and armies marching through the town, the walls were in a sorry state, but life ploughed on as usual, and no matter how bad things got, people still wanted music, and musicians still needed instruments. Towards the end of the 16th century, 1583, Cremona was described as  a city filled with sumptuous buildings, both private and public. There were an abundance of temples and monasteries, wide and spacious streets. The walls of the city have almost completely fallen to the ground due to the numerous wars in the region, and the villages around the walls were ruined.  One traveller to Cremona at the time was a little bit nonplussed by the place. This is an excerpt from a 16th century tourist writing what appears to be a type of lonely planet guide. His name is Maximilian Mission and his book is  ‘A New Voyage to Italy Together with Useful Instructions for Those Who Shall Travel Hither’. We followed the course of the Po at some distance. Until we came over against Cremona, where we crossed over the river in a ferry boat. There are no bridges on the Po below Turin. Cremona is seated on the left bank of the river in the Duchy of Milan. It is a pretty large city, but even poorer and less populous than Piacenza. There is nothing at all to be seen in it, though its tower and castle are very much extolled.  One of their authors has the confidence to tell the world that the Tower is reckoned to exceed all others in height, and for that reason, esteemed one of the wonders of Europe.  And that the castle is the strongest and most formidable citadel in Italy. If I had not been accustomed to the lofty and hyperbolic  expressions of the Italians, I should have been strangely surprised, after all these rodomonts.  To find nothing at Cremona worth observation.  The castle is an old, shapeless, and half ruined mass, which in its very best state deserved not to be compared to a well contrived fort,  but perhaps might have been reputed tolerable in the days of crossbows. And the tower is neither handsome nor very high, but inferior to a thousand that are not so much as mentioned.  It was built by Frederick Barbarossi  in the year 1184. There is a tradition that the Emperor Mondi and Pope John the 23rd went up this tower with a certain Lord of Cremona who repented afterwards as he several times declared that he did not throw him down from the top to bottom, merely for the rarity of the thing.  And perhaps it was this story that gave the first occasion to the reflections that had been made on the height of the tower. The inhabitants of Cremona boast much of the antiquity of their city, but they produced not any monuments to confirm it. The antiquity of Cremona has a very near resemblance to that of the Po. In the distance of 14 miles from Cremona to Mantua, we saw nothing but hamlets that deserved not to be named. Only Bozzolo is a sort of little city enclosed with certain works which pass for fortifications.  It gives title to a duke who, besides his place, is sovereign of a territory that extends four or five miles. We passed Oglio in a ferry boat, and great and rapid.  Apparently boring as it was.  The city was doing okay, but the effects of war were beginning to show. The walls might have been in a bad state, but in town there was a movement amongst the monasteries and local congregations towards creating new foundations. These included orphanages. There were colleges for youth education, boarding schools, a conservatory opened in  1587 to welcome young girls in danger, that is, who did not have a dowry and risked therefore to take a bad path. The Jesuits built a magnificent new church in 1602. The Church of St. Peter and Marcelino. For women, there were sisters who taught in the schools and boarding schools. They dedicated themselves to the education of young girls who belonged to the most distinguished and wealthy families of Cremona.  These nuns were not pushed into seclusion. They are interesting in that they were free to go to the local church, leave the buildings when they wanted to, and embark on charitable works in the community, such as looking after the poor schools. This gave a particular atmosphere to the city, with many in the religious orders out and about.  In the spring of 1584, Girolamo Amati married for a second time. His first wife, Lucrenzia, had died shortly after the birth of their daughter, Elizabeth. And now, Laura Medici Lazzarini, niece of a prominent nobleman, and a distant cousin to the famous Banking Medici's. At the time of Girolamo Amati and Laura's wedding, the city of Cremona was thriving. The factories in town were working at full speed, especially in the textile sector, where wool and moleskin employed a large part of the population.  The city was growing as the factories were expanding, and the nobles and rich merchants were building palaces and stately homes. The Amatis were now a well respected family. Andrea Amati had finally been able to buy their house a few years before his death, and now his sons, the brothers, Antonio Amati and Girolamo Amati, had inherited both the house and a prosperous business.  They made instruments for important people, nobles and royal families. Girolamo Amati’s marriage to a member of the lesser nobility shows an overlapping of the respected artisan class and the more wealthy noble class.  Laura's dowry would have helped as well, but as with his first wife Lucrenzia, Girolamo Amati had to share Laura's dowry with his brother Antonio Amati as he was now head of the family. I spoke to Carlo Chiesa, researcher, author, and violin maker in Milan. Why is he called Hieronymus sometimes, and it's a Latin name, Hieronymus is the Latin from Geronimo. So I use the Italian, but it's the same name.  And on, on his labels it's, Hieronymus. He uses a Latin form, Hieronymus. Is it always Hieronymus? No, sometimes it is Geronimo but the reason is that if you use the Latin name, it is Hieronymus. So for foreign, not Italian speaking people, I understand Geronimo is a bit difficult to remember and Hieronymus is much easier because it's also German and  the English form for Geronimo. So I think that's it. It's just is Latin.  No, come on. We are speaking of four generations, five makers, you know. We're set. We're the Brothers,  Amati. Why do you think there was such a large a

The Amati Brothers were working and living in a time of musical innovation and discovery. Join me as I discover what influences Monteverdi, music and even fashion had on the instruments the brothers were making. intertwines the stories of the illustrious Amati brothers, renowned violin makers, with the musical genius of Claudio Monteverdi, one of the greatest composers of the Baroque era. Join us on a captivating journey as we explore the parallel worlds of instrument craftsmanship and musical composition during this remarkable period. Musicians and Luthiers of the renaissance such as the Amati Brothers had to continue their craft amidst famine, plague and war making these instruments musicians play today objects even more remarkable than we could have previously imagined. We continue to look at the life of Girolamo Amati the father of the very talented Luthier Nicolo Amati who would in turn change the course of violin making in Italy for ever. In this episode I speak to Dr Emily Brayshaw fashion historian and Benjamin Hebbert Oxford based Violin expert. Transcript   Once upon a time on the northern plains of Italy, there roamed a hero who went by the name of Romulus. You may have heard of him as the legendary founder of Rome, perhaps? But what's a strapping god like young man to do once he's founded one of the world's greatest cities?  One day, as he was travelling through the Po Valley, Romulus came upon a group of people who were struggling to defend their village from the fierce Gaelic tribes roaming the region. The people were in need of a strong leader, and Romulus knew just the man for the job, himself.  He gathered the people together and said, “I will help you defend your village from these invaders, but we must build a great fortress to protect ourselves”.  The people thought this was such a great idea that they set to work building a mighty fortress immediately on the banks of the Po River. The people began to dream of a great city that could rival the power and glory of Rome itself.  Romulus, who had been a beloved leader of the people, heard their dreams and knew that he could help them achieve their goal. He said to them, If we are to build a great city, we must first establish a strong foundation. We must build our city upon the principles of justice, wisdom, and strength.  And so the people of the village began to build their city. They laid the foundation stones with great care and constructed a wall around the city to protect it from invaders.  Romulus oversaw the construction and he ensured that the city was built to the highest standards possible. As the city grew, Romulus knew that it needed a name. He looked out over the fertile fields of the Po Valley and saw the bright flames of the forges that dotted the landscape. He turned to the people and said, We shall call this city Cremona, which means to burn, for it is the fires of our forges that will light the way to our greatness. And so the city of Cremona was born. It grew to become a powerful centre of trade and culture in northern Italy and was revered by many as a shining example of the principles of justice, wisdom, and strength that Romulus had taught them.  And this is the legend of how Romulus founded the city of Cremona. Hello and welcome to the Violin Chronicles, a podcast in which I, Linda Lespets, will attempt to bring to life the story surrounding famous, infamous, or just not very well known, but interesting violin makers of history.  I'm a violin maker and restorer. I graduated from the French Violin Making School some years ago now, and I currently live and work in Sydney with my husband Antoine Lespets, who is also a violin maker and graduate of the French school, l'Ecole Nationale de Luthierie au Mircourt. As well as being a luthier, I've always been intrigued with the history of instruments I work with, and in particular, the lives of those who made them.  So often when we look back at history, I know that I have a tendency to look at just one aspect, But here my aim is to join up the puzzle pieces and have a look at an altogether fascinating picture. So join me as I wade through tales not only of fame, famine, and war, but also of love, artistic genius, revolutionary craftsmanship, determination, cunning, and bravery, that all have their part to play in the history of the violin. Welcome back to the story of Andrea Amati's two boys, the Amati brothers, Girolamo Amati and Antonio Amati.  In the last episode, we left them after they split the workshop and Antonio Amati went off to set up on his own, leaving Girolamo Amati with the house and shop to continue alone.  The Amati brothers stopped working together in 1588, but if you remember the episodes on Gasparo Da Salo over in Brescia, you would realize that their Brescian competition was still working away, and in 1580,  eight years earlier, a future employee of Da Salo's was born. His name was Gio Paolo Maggini, and he would go on to become a roaring success.  Girolamo Amati, however, had other things on his mind. As I mentioned earlier, his first wife, Lucrenzia, had died shortly after having their daughter, Elizabeth, and his new wife, Laura, had a full house to look after and a famine looming on the horizon. Girolamo Amati, in this decade, made some beautiful instruments, including the one played by Ilya Izakovich in the Australian Chamber Orchestra, the Baron Knoop violin, and a painted violin for the French King Henry IV, to name a few. Girolamo Amati was now in his late 30s, and Laura was pregnant again. The news wasn't good. The Po River was rising and the plains around Cremona were flooding. The crops would be ruined again, like they had last year.  The grain yields were a third of the previous years, and outbreaks of typhus were hitting the rural areas, affecting those who grew the grain, and the disease was even worse in the heavily populated cities. After several years of bad weather, flooding, and storms, the cities were deeply in debt from having to buy grain from abroad.  For the next two years, matters only got worse. News was coming from other cities on the Po Plains, Bologna had expelled the so called useless mouths, people without citizenship, beggars, jobless foreigners, and even those who were employed but not highly skilled in a trade. They were saying that it was to reserve the scant food supplies and to prevent overcrowding and outbreaks of epidemics.  The governing bodies in the cities were afraid that the poor would revolt and steal the little food that was left in the city's reserves. But the people from rural areas where the crops were spoiled were flocking to the cities where they knew there were grain stores. Four fifths of the population lived in rural areas but would be turned away at the city gates.  Bologna was 150km from Cremona. The same could happen here. Already 10, 000 people had died in that city and 30, 000 in the surrounding countryside. In just 10 years, Cremona had gone from a boom to simply struggling to stay afloat. In 1594 and 1597, there was a famine and an economic downturn in the region. And it was also the year Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet was premiered. Throughout these lean years, Girolamo Amati was still making beautiful instruments, violas, violins, and cellos. His choice of materials were of the finest standard and so was his workmanship. The sound quality of his instruments differed as well from that of his competition in Brescia. But he was keeping afloat and even had a recent order for a set of instruments for the chapel of the new king of France, Henry IV, who had managed to survive the religious wars by converting to Catholicism, saying famously that Paris was worth a mass. Paris vaut bien une messe. This new set of instruments were to be decorated with the coat of arms and in Latin gold leaf red. King Henry IV, by the grace of God, King of France and Navarre.  I speak to Benjamin Hebbert about the authenticity of the Amati Charles IX instruments and musicians at this time.  Which is the end of Catherine de Medici's reign and the beginning of Henry of Navarre's reign. Well, I think Catherine de Medici is, in France, is just such a huge influence.  Charles IX is a child king and really has no power. And then he dies, is sickly. And then his brother who had become king of Poland is brought back and he becomes Henry IV. And then Catherine de Medici dies. I'm going to say  1587, I know I'm wrong,  but around about that time there's a wonderful quote about, you know, people would give  more regard to a dead goat than they would to Catherine de Medici. There was a point at which her power was over.  Henry is assassinated within a year of her death, and Henry of Navarre, who is a Protestant, a Huguenot, comes in and becomes, becomes king. And at that time I think what we have to consider is that, you know, so right up until, right up until the end of the Valois dynasty, you know, it's all Catherine, it's all about Catherine de Medici, it's all about her, it's all about her triumphs and her successes.  And then one of the things that happens there's been actually sort of various Musicologists have speculated that the Andrea Amatis aren't, aren't authentic. And one of the reasons is that the earliest French orchestral music is for a completely different orchestration than these Italian instruments offer.  And what I think when you look at these things, the propaganda of the painting all over them is very specific to the Valois. The Valois were hated.  Uh, they massacred enough Huguenots to be really, really hated. When Henry comes in, he's set, you know, they're played by Italian musicians. They're playing music in every corner of the court.  Their eyes and ears, which are open for Catherine de Medici, they're, there's not. A lot of difference between a spy and a musician in the 16th century and there's, you know, right the way through spies and musicians are kind of the same things because they're the people who can

In which we look into the young life of Nicolo Amati. I talk to Timo-Veikko Valve principal cellist in the Australian Chamber Orchestra who plays on an Amati Cello with a fascinating past.  Tracing the extraordinary life and career of Nicolo Amati, one of the most influential violin makers in history. Join us as we delve into the early years of this legendary craftsman, uncovering the formative experiences and remarkable craftsmanship that laid the foundation for his illustrious career. Looking into Nicolo Amati's life, exploring the influences, techniques, and artistic vision that shaped his path as a violin maker. From his apprenticeship under his father, Girolamo Amati, to his explorations of innovative designs and meticulous craftsmanship, we unravel the milestones that propelled Nicolo Amati to prominence. Join us as we uncover the triumphs and challenges Nicolo Amati faced throughout his career, the collaborations with renowned musicians of his time, and the legacy he left for generations of violin makers to come. Explore the craftsmanship, precision, and artistic finesse that made Nicolo Amati a true master of his craft.   Transcript     The man known by many in the streets of Cremona, or the poor houses, went by the name of Omobono,  or Good Man. As he crossed the Piazza del Commune, he stopped to give a coin to a beggar, huddled in a corner, and continued on to his destination.  He was visiting a family that had fallen on hard times and were in dire need of help, help that he could give them. Omobono Tucenghi was a tailor and fabric merchant who lived in Cremona in the 12th century.  His whole life he had felt compassion for those less fortunate, and a need to make a difference in the world in which he found himself.  More days than not, you could find Omobono distributing alms from his seemingly bottomless purse to the poor and needy of Cremona, helping all those who crossed his path. Over time, Omobono's need to help others did not diminish, quite the opposite in fact, and in his 50s, he decided to stop his trade altogether to dedicate himself to good works.  The only fly in the ointment appears to have been his family. His wife and children were not too keen on their father and husband giving away the family fortune to apparently random strangers he found on the street. But this did not deter him as he continued on helping those in need, giving money from his purse that was always full of coins and never emptied by divine providence, and attending Mass every evening.  One of these evenings, in the church of St. Giles, On a cool November night, he sang Gloria for the last time, crossed his arms over his chest and fell to the ground. At first, no one noticed the devout Omobono, but when the time came for him to read the Gospels and he did not come forward, his fellow churchgoers approached to find him dead.  The citizens of Cremona immediately venerated him as a saint and Sicardo, Bishop of Cremona, personally went to Rome to represent the cause and canonization of Omobono. He wrote in his article  “At that time, a simple, very faithful and devoted man lived in Cremona, who was called Omobono. In his death, and with his intercession, God performed many miracles”.  Pope Innocent III, satisfied with the official investigation into his life and miracles, canonized Omobonos just after two years, in 1199. That's pretty quick if you were wondering.  And this is the story of the life of Sant Omobono, who is not only the patron saint of Cremona, but also the patron saint of merchants, textile workers, tailors, business people, and entrepreneurs.  Some might say that the real miracle here is that Omobono was an honest businessman. But he is also remarkable in that he was the first person canonized despite being both a layman, not in religious orders, and a father of a family. He was neither a martyr nor a king.  And speaking of Omobono, there is a podcast for violin makers or violin enthusiasts, if you would like to discover it, called simply Omo. You really should check it out.  That podcast is named after one of Antonio Stradivari's sons, Omobono, who was probably named after this Omobono.  But now on with the podcast. Hello and welcome to the Violin Chronicles, a podcast in which I, Linda Lespets, will attempt to bring to life the story surrounding famous, infamous, or just not very well known, but interesting violin makers of history.  I'm a violin maker and restorer. I graduated from the French Violin Making School of Mirecourt some years ago now, and I currently live and work in Sydney with my husband Antoine, who is also a violin maker and graduate of the French school, l'Ecole Nationale de lutherie in Mirecourt. As well as being a luthier, I've always been intrigued with the history of instruments I work with, and in particular, the lives of those who made them.  So often, when we look back at history, I know that I have a tendency to look at just one aspect, but here my aim is to join up the puzzle pieces and have a look at an altogether fascinating picture. So join me as I wade through tales not only of fame, famine, and war, but also of love, artistic genius Revolutionary craftsmanship, determination, cunning and bravery that all have their part to play in the history of the violin. Nicolo Amati was born in 1596 into a country ravaged by famine and disease on one hand, but on the other it existed in the midst of artistic endeavour, exploration and invention.  Cremona, the city Niccolo Amati was born into, was not an out of the way sleepy village, it was a crossroads literally for traffic and ideas from across Europe, filled with merchants and artisans. Take, for example, the case of Sofinisba Anguissola, a Cremonese girl who was one of five sisters, all accomplished artists, having been schooled in the Cremonese fashion. She was taken to the Spanish royal court to paint portraits and led a fascinating life. Worthy of an episode in itself.  The question to this day remains as to whether she painted the famed Charles IX instruments made by Nicholas's grandfather. During this time, and in Cremona as well, musically there was instrumental music bursting forth such as the Canzona, the Ricciare, the Fantasia, and dance inspired compositions quite different to vocal music.  In France there was ballet, and in Italy, opera.  Music was an essential part of civic, religious, and courtly life in the Renaissance, and Cremona was no different. In Casa Amati, Nicolo Amati was a middle child, born into a sea of children, about ten. He was probably number six. His oldest brother, Roberto, joined the army, and his second eldest brother became a priest. He had six sisters, and his youngest brother died presumably as a child, leaving Nicolo Amati the only son to carry on the family business. Nicolo Amati would become the godfather of the modern day violin. He would have attended the local parish school until the age of about 12,  and then in 1610 when he was about 14 years old and truly starting his apprenticeship with his father, news came that his uncle Antonio Amati had died. Niccolo Amati’s father and his brother used to have a workshop together that they had inherited from their father. But before Nicolo Amati was born, the brothers had had a disagreement and split the shop, each brother going his own way.  They may not have been particularly close, especially if the rift between the two brothers was still a thing, but perhaps 22 years on, Girolamo Amati and his brother may have patched things up. Especially as they were still both living in the same street.  Moving on four years, a sad event affected the Amati household once again. The 18 year old Nicolo Amati and his family received the news of an accident on the Po River near Vigivano. Roberto, his older brother, was killed in an exercise during his military service. Nicolo Amati would have felt the responsibility to continue helping his father even more now that there was one less brother to help out.  In 1616, the Amati workshop, with Girolamo Amati and Nicolo Amati working, produced two five stringed cellos. Nicolo Amati was About 20 at this time, so we can easily imagine him helping his father with these instruments. 353 years after they were made, in 1969, they were acquired by the Fleming family in England. And today, one of these cellos is played in the Australian Chamber Orchestra. I spoke to Timo Veikko Valve, Principal Cellist in the Australian Chamber Orchestra, about this instrument and what it's like for him playing on it. My name is Timo Veikko Valve, and I'm the Principal Cello of the Australian Chamber Orchestra.  I've been in that role for the past 16  years, and I come from Finland originally, but I guess, Sydney and Australia is now  my home.  So at the moment I'm playing a 1616 Brothers Amati cello, which I have had the privilege of playing for the past  Five or six years. I'm a very lucky owner of this quite,  quite special cello, in many ways. I used to play a Joseph Fillius Guarneri cello before that. Which I thought was the ideal cello. And in some ways still, It's a very, I guess, softly spoken and chamber music kind of  has a character of chamber music in, in its kind of  personality. Whereas the Amati is a more robust and more, assertive and actually can be quite loud. So when I joined the orchestra  in 2007, one of the first things that I was asked to do is to go cello shopping. So I found the Guarneri for myself,  and uh, so it was my Not bad. No, it was, it was really amazing experience actually to kind of go into that world, which I obviously hadn't visited before, you know, going instrument shopping of that level in London and yeah, funnily enough, the first instrument that I saw on that trip was the Guarneri. It was a bit of love at first sight, but I mean there were a lot of, a lot of other instruments that we tried on that trip, you know, um, Stradivarius, uh, Montagnana, so like Really top end cellos, um, worth  much more t

This is the captivating journey through the life and craftsmanship of Gio Paolo Maggini, a renowned violin maker hailing from Brescia, Italy. Join us as we unravel the legacy of this extraordinary luthier whose instruments continue to mesmerize musicians and collectors worldwide. Delving into the fascinating world of Gio Paolo Maggini, exploring his innovative techniques, distinctive designs, and the enduring influence he had on the art of violin making. Not much is known about this enigmatic maker but the tragedies and hardships of his life have not deterred from the allure of his violins, celebrated for their robust tonal quality, remarkable projection, and distinctive stylistic workmanship. Christopher Moore principal Viola of the Melbourn Symphony Orchestra talks to us about his relationship with his Maggini Viola made in Brescia, and the journey he has been on with his four stringed friend. TRANSCRIPT   Long, long ago in the realm of ancient Italy, a great strapping hero strode upon the earth. His name was Hercules, a mighty warrior favoured by the gods.  One day, after crushing grapes in his rock-hard biceps and shaving his chiselled jawline, Hercules embarked for his legendary quest for the Golden Fleece. His path led him eventually to a region near the powerful Po River.  In this land, a proud and formidable king named Eurytus ruled with an iron fist. His beautiful daughter, Calliho, possessed a grace and radiance that could rival the sun.  When Hercules laid his eyes upon her, his heart was captivated, and he yearned to make her his bride. Yet King Eurytus, blinded by his own ambition, refused the hero's request.  He scorned Hercules and cast him away, denying him the hand of his beloved daughter.  This act of defiance set in motion a clash of titanic proportions.  Determined to prove his worthiness, Hercules faced King Eurytus in a series of gruelling challenges. With each feat, the hero showcased his immense strength remember the grape crushing biceps and indomitable spirit.  But it was a test of unparalleled magnitude that would forever mark the destiny of Brescia. Hercules set his sights on the Mela River. A waterway that flowed through the land. Its currents were wild and untamed, often causing havoc and destruction. Undeterred, the hero summoned his god given might and diverted the course of the river. With Herculean force, Hercules carved a new path for the Mela River, leading it through a marshy and forsaken terrain. The once desolate and waterlogged land now bloomed with life and fertility. It was a transformation of remarkable proportions. King Eurytus witnessed this incredible feat. Finally understood the true strength and valour of Hercules, and he saw the hero's unwavering determination and boundless love for Calliho.  Overwhelmed by the hero's prowess and the sincerity of his heart, the king relented.  Being able to challenge the course of a river and chiselled features were obviously great husband material, it seems. But moving on. In a great celebration of their union, Hercules laid the foundations of a magnificent city. He named it Brixia.  The Latin form for Brescia.  It was a testament to his strength and the indelible mark he left upon the land. The city grew and flourished, becoming a beacon of culture, art, and prosperity. And this is the legend of how the city of Brescia was founded. The mighty Maggini In this episode, we will be looking at the oh so influential Gio Paolo Maggini. If you haven't already listened to the first episodes on Brescian makers, stop and do that now because to truly understand this maker, you'll need to know where he and his city came from. Episodes 1, are about his master Gasparo Da Salo and the Brescian school. In the previous episodes of the Violin Chronicles, I have been looking at the Amati family, but it would be greatly remiss of me to bypass this Brescian maker. Living and working at the same time as the Amati brothers and Niccolo Amati, a mere 60 kilometers away.  Now, remember the city of Cremona was still under Spanish rule and Brescia was part of the Venetian state, which made them quite different. And this is also seen in the production of their instruments, as we will soon see.  So I'm taking a break from Cremona just now to travel up the highway to the land of guns and violins. Hello, and welcome to the Violin Chronicles. A podcast in which I, Linda Lespets, will attempt to bring to life the story surrounding famous, infamous, or just not very well known, but interesting violin makers of history.  I'm a violin maker and restorer. I graduated from the French violin making school some years ago now, and I currently live and work in Sydney with my husband Antoine Lespets, who is also a violin maker and graduate of the French school, l'Ecole Nationale de lutherie, Mirecourt. As well as being a luthier, I've always been intrigued with the history of instruments I work with, and in particular, the lives of those who made them.  So often when we look back at history, I know that I have a tendency to look at just one aspect, but here my aim is to join up the puzzle pieces and have a look at an altogether fascinating picture. So join me as I wade through tales not only of fame, famine, and war, but also of love. Artistic genius, revolutionary craftsmanship, determination, cunning and bravery that all have their part to play in the history of the violin. In the small village of Botticino situated in the hills an hour from Brescia lived the Maggini family.  Zovan and Giulia lived with Zovan's father Bartolomeo Maggini and their two small children.  Zorvan, somewhat like the Amatis, had taken his time in marrying and was in his forties when he eventually did find a wife and started a family of his own. As time passed, so did his elderly father, and it was all too evident that there was no future for their family in this small rural village.  His children were getting older, and there were more possibilities and prospects for employment in Brescia.  When Zolvan was 57, his wife, Julia, had just given birth to another child whom they named Gio Paolo, the star of our story. He was born in the autumn of 1580.  Zolvan's eldest son was eager to work as a shoemaker and so the family moved to the large city of Brescia to start a new life.  Over the years, the Maggini family settled into life in the vibrant city of Brescia.  The youngest son, Gio Paolo, does not seem to have had an extensive education, like his Cremonese counterparts, and when Gio Paolo Maggini was still very young, his father passed away. When they had arrived in Brescia, Zoran, his father, had set out to make a shoemaking business and failed, and then went on to promptly die. Perhaps his death was not a surprise, but to make ends meet after his death, Maggini's mother sold land to keep them afloat. And it is around this time, in 1595, that the young Maggini becomes an apprentice of the well-known instrument maker, Gasparo Da Salo. It would have been a big change for Gio Paolo Maggini to begin with, but his apprenticeship in the well-established workshop was a success.  Despite his lack of education, he may have also been a musician or singer, as many of the early Luthiers were both.  Life was looking good for Gio Paolo Maggini. He had a close relationship with his boss, Gasparo Da Salo. He trusted him in the signing of legal documents. His life revolved around the musical district of Brescia and his friends and acquaintances, including musicians, well known instrument makers, and other assistants who worked for Da Salo. In 1602, he became friends with Paolo Virichi, who had returned from exile. Paolo's father was a close friend of Gasparo Da Salo, whom we spoke about in the Da Salo episodes.  Still very young, in his early 20s, Gio Paolo Maggini, after 8 years of working with Gasparo Da Salo, was ready to head out on his own. He appears to still have had amicable dealings with Gasparo Bertolotti and his family, even though he did leave and set up a new workshop with La Franchini,  Gasparo's other assistant, who came along with him.  In 1606, when Maggini was 26 years old, he bought a workshop and house near Gasparo's. He paid slightly higher than its real value, and the noble Ludovico Seria feared for its payment. Maggini is able to pay with his mother's credit for her lands in Bottino. Thanks to the good old bank of mom and dad,  this new workshop is very visible in front of the Piazza  del Podesta, near Gasparo da Salo, and  Annis. He's the organ builder. They're workshops, and it was in the prime instrument maker's quarters.  In 1615, he is in his mid thirties with a well established workshop that has been running for nine years. Gio Paolo Maggini married the young Anna Foresti, a furrier's daughter, in January of 1615.  She most probably knew Da Salo's younger sister, Ludovica, who was also married to a furrier in Brescia. They undoubtedly lived in the artisanal district of the city, and Maggini was 34 and Anna 19 years old when they were married. The couple lived in the house in Contrada del Palazzo Vecchio de Podesta, opposite the old palace, and eight days after the wedding, Maggini's wife signed in the kitchen a receipt for her dowry given by her father. The witnesses included a carpenter and a bootmaker, and her husband's assistant, Giacomo Della Franchini,  maestro di Violini, living in the house with them. We can see that when he married, Maggini was in a comfortable position with a house, a workshop, a maid, and an assistant, running a thriving business.  He had a good trade stock and paid his employees well. Here I'm speaking to Christopher Moore, Principal Viola of the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra, who plays on a lovely Gio Paolo Maggini.  My name is Christopher Moore. I'm a viola operator.  I I'm currently the Principal Viola of the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra, and before that I was the Principal Viola of the Australian Chamber Orchestra for 10 years. Yeah. And owner of a pu

In the history of violin making Maggini is a must. I speak to two violin experts Florian Leonhard and Benjamin Hebbert about Giovannin Paolo Maggini. Maggini's Brescian style of making violins was very distinctive and an incredible amount of copies of this luthiers work has been copied in the intervening 400 years, the two violin makers I am talking to will shed light on why and how this came about and we will give you some tips on how to recognise a Maggini instrument and make one yourself....perhaps.    Transcript   Hello and welcome to the Violin Chronicles, a podcast in which I, Linda Lespets, will attempt to bring to life the story surrounding famous, infamous, or just not very well known, but interesting violin makers of history.  I'm a violin maker and restorer. I graduated from the French Violin Making School some years ago now, and I currently live and work in Sydney with my husband Antoine, who is also a violin maker and graduate of the French school, l'Ecole Nationale de Luthierie, Mircourt. As well as being a luthier, I've always been intrigued with the history of instruments I work with, and in particular, the lives of those who made them.  So often, when we look back at history, I know that I have a tendency to look at just one aspect. But here, my aim is to join up the puzzle pieces and have a look at an altogether fascinating picture. So join me as I wade through tales not only of fame, famine, and war, but also of love. Artistic genius. Revolutionary craftsmanship, determination, cunning and bravery that all have their part to play in the history of the violin. Welcome back to the story of Giovanni Paolo Maggini. In the first episode about this maker, I have briefly covered his life story. We don't know all that much about this maker during his lifetime, but his influence and style is definitely long lived. And the sheer number of copies of his instruments that have been made in the intervening 400 years is simply staggering. And so in this episode, I will be talking to two experts about why and how Maggini instruments were and are such hot stuff. To begin with, In these conversations, the mention of the Hills book comes up quite a lot. Let me quickly explain why.  W. E. Hills and Sons, if you don't know, was one of the great English violin workshops in London, only to be rivalled by J& A Beares. A bit like what Batman is to Superman. Big players.  Did you, did you know, by the way, that Bruce Wayne, Batman's alter ego, is actually the owner of the Daily Planet newspaper, who employs Clark Kent, making Batman technically Superman's boss. I find this fascinating because this is kind of what happens in the story of the Beares and Hills companies, but I digress.  The Hills Workshop was founded by William Ebsworth Hill, 1871 to 1895. He was the son, grandson, and great grandson of violin makers. But when he founded W. E. Hills and Sons, he really took things to the next level. The man's energy was boundless. Under William's direction was the company's workshop, of course, that was producing new instruments and bow makers making bows.  They would also deal in older instruments and were well known for their quality restorations. They had a line of accessories as the workshop continued to be run by his sons, and these included rosins, cleaning polish, chin rests, shoulder rests, bridges, instrument cases, strings, little tuning pipes, peg paste, if your pegs got stuck, the pegs themselves, music stands, and the list goes on. Whatever product pertaining to the violin you could possibly think of, the Hills made sure there was a Hills version of it.  If this sounds like a handful, then hold on to your seats, because not only was W. E. Hill a violin maker and musician, he was also interested in photography and astronomy. And let's not forget his family, because it is Hill and Sons, so he obviously had children. Nine, in fact, somewhere along the line.  But to really prove oneself as an authority in the field, what better way to do it than to write a book? And to make a splash, the first one was on the wonderful Brescian maker, Gio Paolo Maggini, published in 1892. And this is the book that we often refer to as the Hill's book in our discussions about Maggini. To make this book, research was made from archives and really to date, this book still stands as one of the only works documenting exclusively the life and work of this maker. Even though research has continued over the years, this is still a book makers keep coming back to. And so now you know a bit about the Hill's book, or more precisely, it's called The Life and Work of Giovanni Paolo Maggini, the author of which is a woman named Margaret Higgins, who is fascinating in her own right. I spoke to Florian Leonhardt, who is a London based violin maker, dealer, restorer, expert, and owner of Florian Leonhardt Fine Violins.  We spoke about Brescia, the city Maggini lived and worked in. Brescia was a, was a city that, had a very rich musical life. It was completely devastated by the invasion of, was it the French? The French? Yeah, the French sorry about the French so they invaded, and ransack the city completely. And then the venitians took it back, took control over it and then there was another battle. It was ransacked again. And, you know, it was really, really destroyed. But Brescia didn't benefit from a big rich duke  that, that would kind of, control the cultural life of the city. Unlike most other big cities, like Milan and Florence and Rome. But even Venice had a lot of wealthy people who kind of had demands  on their cultural life. And Brescia, interestingly, had a big, probably middle class, intellectually interested, that furthered music making in a big way. And particularly, instrumental music making, or opera, that is not just singers and so on, but had lots of different musical instruments. And these Brescian makers during Gasparo Da Salo's time, particularly in his earlier time, were cittern makers, they made the plucked instruments, as well. So they were busy doing those things as well, but actually you had in Brescia, you had already the word Violin for Violin Maker. And Gasparo Da Salo's time before it's a Pellegrino. Zanetto's, Micheli's, family time. You already had the, term violino or violini maker, but we don't know exactly what that thing looked like, whether that was actually the violin. Because, you know, something that looked a bit, uh, better than a Rebek and different to a, to a viol, maybe it was called that. It's kind of on the way. It's on the way, yeah. I'm Ben Hebbert, I've got a workshop in Oxford. Occasionally I sell violins. I do a lot of writing about them and a lot of research and a little bit of expertise as well. Okay. And where, where can we find your, um, where can we find your writings?  My writings? I've got, uh, violinsandviolinists. com is my blog. And, uh, it sort of everywhere else, occasionally in the Strad magazine and things like that. Chapters of books. Things. Nuggets of wisdom.  Something like that.  Um. Page fillers. All right. So today I wanted to talk about, uh, Maggini. Actually, I did have a, I did have a thought, about, the difference between Cremonies and Brescian instruments. And that was, we looked at, you, you said how, was it Virgil that went to school?  In Cremona. And Cremona was well known for its schools and it had a very, educated, merchant class. And I was wondering if it wasn't for the education level in Cremona and the fact that an artisan like amati could have a Renaissance education, would, the violin have the shape that it does today if it wasn't for  school?  Oh, yes and no. Uh, I think it's the answer. When we look at, when we look at Amati, we're looking at something which is architecturally wonderful, and it works. But if you go backwards in time, so there's some amazing frescoes in Ferrara by a guy called Cordenzio  of Ferrara, and, they show musical instruments, bowed instruments of every single, you know, imaginable shape,  and including some things which may actually be purposefully wrong, because they're being held by angels, but, within those there's one or two instruments which are violin like, and at the end of the day, what, you know, what is a violin shape? Well, it's, it's the biggest, it's the biggest amount of surface area and volume in order to make a good sound.  And yet, at the point where the bow crosses the strings, it's got to be narrow enough that the bow can touch each of the strings individually without you know, having a bit of a road crash. So, the violin as we know it,  you know, might have appeared around 1500.  There could well be instruments which are even older than that, which are quite like the violin. In fact, 14th, uh, 13th century, uh, precursor of the violin tend to have a sort of jellybean kind of shape to them, again with this narrowing at that point. So, the shape is in the ether one way or another, but just the shape in terms of you know, what an instrument has to be.  But I think, you know, one of the things that an architect can do, whether we're talking about a violin or a shed, is, you know, there's a whole difference between sort of sticking some sticks in the ground and sticking a roof on it and architecturally designing a shed. And I think that's kind of where someone like Amati comes in. He says, with all of this Renaissance knowledge that I've got, this thing is already working. It's already a perfectly good thing for doing what it does. But I'm going to, understanding the necessities of it, the string length to get pitch the, site, the, volume of it. In order to get the sort of sound, the narrowness and all of this, I’m going to make a beautiful architectural version of what already exists. I mean, I'm thinking of the difference between the Bressian violins and the Cremonese violin. Yeah. I think, uh, I mean, Bresians aren't without a geometry of their own and that's very clear. But I think, I think they're using sort of s

 In this episode of “the Violin Chronicles”, we delve into the life of Nicolo Amati, a name synonymous with the exquisite craftsmanship of violins. Beyond his unparalleled contributions to the world of music, Nicolo Amati's life was marked by profound tragedy during the devastating 1630 bubonic plague that swept through Europe. Join us as we unravel the remarkable tale of a man who not only mastered the art of violin-making but also found strength in the face of unbearable loss. Nicolo Amati hailed from a renowned family of luthiers, and his violins are celebrated for their delicate craftsmanship and unparalleled tonal quality. Yet, amidst the acclaim and admiration, lies a harrowing chapter of his life that shaped his artistry and resilience. In this episode, we explore the remarkable transformation of Nicolo Amati, who channeled his grief into creating some of the most exquisite violins the world has ever seen. We delve into the technical brilliance that characterized his work, as well as the emotional depth and resonance of the instruments he crafted during this tumultuous period. Through the lens of history and musicology, we uncover how Nicolo Amati's journey through tragedy not only preserved the art of violin-making but also enriched it, leaving behind a legacy that continues to inspire musicians and craftsmen to this day. Join us as we pay tribute to the indomitable spirit of Nicolo Amati, a master craftsman who found hope and redemption amidst the shadows of a devastating pandemic, leaving us with a priceless musical inheritance that transcends time and tragedy. Tune in to “The Violin Chronicles” for an insightful exploration of Nicolo Amati's life, artistry, and resilience during the 1630 bubonic plague, a story of triumph over adversity that resonates through the ages. Transcript  Have you ever heard someone say, this is an Amati Violin?  And you've thought, Ooh, wow, that must be old. And then they say, it's a Girolamo Amati or a Nicolo Amati or an Andrea Amati. But by this time, if you're anything like me, you're lost and your mind is wondering, and you can't remember which one of those Amatis it's supposed to be. Is it the grandfather or one of the brothers? Is this the Amati that's supposed to be worth more than the others? And if so, is it the right period in his making? And it is. In the end, you just settle for, it's an Amati and the rest will stay in the murky swamp of information you can't quite remember. Well, no more, because hopefully by now, if you've been following these episodes in order, because they are in chronological order, you will know that we are now at Nicolo Amati, Andreas grandchild, Girolamo's son, the golden boy.  So stick around and we'll see together how a devastating pandemic pushed one to transform the world of violin making. Hello and welcome to the Violin Chronicles, a podcast in which I, Linda Lespets, will attempt to bring to life the story surrounding famous, infamous, or just not very well known, but interesting violin makers of history.  I'm a violin maker and restorer. I graduated from the French violin making school some years ago now, and I currently live and work in Sydney with my husband Antoine, who is also a violin maker and graduate of the French school, l'Ecole Nationale de Luthierie in Mircourt.  As well as being a luthier, I've always been intrigued with the history of instruments I work with, and in particular, the lives of those who made them.  So often when we look back at history, I know that I have a tendency to look at just one aspect, but here my aim is to join up the puzzle pieces and have a look at an altogether fascinating picture. So join me as I wade through tales not only of fame, famine, and war, but also of love. Artistic genius, revolutionary craftsmanship, determination, cunning, and bravery that all have their part to play in the history of the violin. Welcome back to another episode in which we will be looking at perhaps the most famous maker of the Amati family, Nicolo. So far I have spoken about the grandfather, Andrea, and his father and uncle, Girolamo Amati and Antonio Amati, the brothers. And now Nicolo Amati continues on with the family tradition by making fine instruments and waiting for middle age to get married and have a family. Except in Nicolo's case, things are quite a bit more dramatic for himself and his family, as you will see in this episode.  They were at it again, the Spanish, the French, the Germans, and the Piedmontese, fighting over who got what in yet another war, except this time, soldiers managed to spread the Black Death, and in 1628, Cremona was badly hit. Troops passing through, as they always did. to cross the Po River, were carrying and all too willing to spread the disease.  This time it was the French and German troops that brought the illness with them and the effects were devastating.  The plague was so deadly in this part of Italy in the years surrounding 1630 that it would have very nearly killed every violin maker in the city. This was indeed the case in Brescia where Maggini was working, bringing an end to the instrument makers there. And the history of the violin could have been very different if it were not for the genetically robust and freakishly lucky Nicolo Amati. Well, maybe not so lucky, as most of his friends and family died. But at least lucky not to die, and lucky for us, because thanks to Nicolo Amati’s survival, we have the violin that we do today.  So what happened? Well, there was a war. The War of the Mantuan Succession. This was the war James Beck was talking about in a previous episode where everyone decided to invade Mantua after their Duke died, and there was a bit of a hoo ha about who it belonged to now. It was basically a war between the French and the Spanish about a highway.  News from Milan was that people were falling ill with the bubonic plague and the city was quarantined.  But over the carnival season, as you do, they loosened the restrictions and the disease took off again, spreading like wildfire. 60, 000 people would die in Milan, a city with a population of 130, 000. Things weren't much better in Cremona. In the autumn of 1630, Nicolo Amati’s father, Girolamo Amati, died, and soon after his mother followed by two of his sisters and other members of the family. Benjamin Hebert, expert and dealer in Oxford, talks about how the plague spread and made its way to Cremona. And one of the things that we learn about with the Amatis is the plague, which wipes out the brothers Amati. It's Girolamo Amati who survives until 1613, dies in the plague. All of the Brescian makers die in the plague. And actually, we talk about the plague as if it's one thing, like COVID has been over the last few years, but actually that plague was a result of Wars in Europe, where the Austrians  Who are the Habsburgs, so Naples at the bottom of Italy, and they wanted to get their troops up through Cremona into Italy itself so that they could then go over to Austria to support, because actually more than troops, food to supply the troops from Naples is really important. So the French invade northern Italy.  Northern Italy, in order to stop this supply line from the, from the south, and it's that huge change in population, which creates plague after plague, and also suffering, and a scarcity of resources because the army is there and Cremona is just the middle of a war zone. It's, it's one of the most important crossings  connecting  the two parts of the Habsburg Empire.  So the plague comes to town in 1630 and Discretion is not its middle name. But the city it hit was not the thriving Cremona that Andrea Amati and the brothers Amati had grown up in. By now, it was a city that was in a vulnerable and weakened state. It just wasn't going so well. We find Nicolo in his late 20s, working with his aging father in their family workshop. I spoke to John Gagne about the curious circumstances leading up to the devastating plague, and to understand what was going on, we have to zoom out and take a look at the big picture. I'm John Gagné. I'm a senior lecturer in history at the University of Sydney, and I work mostly on European history from the 13th to the 18th centuries.  The big context to put this all in is what scholars call the Little Ice Age, which starts in the 1550s.  And this is in one way the catalyst for all of these events. The plague, the famine, the war, is that it's temperatures began dropping from the 1550s forward probably caused by a variety of environmental factors. It could have been, you know, the explosion of South Pacific volcanoes, which changed the global environmental pattern. It could have been, you know, changes to the jet stream. Whatever it was, it meant that Europe from the 1550s forward became colder than it had been in a thousand years. And this was, I think, the context against which all of these things were set, was that Europe was becoming colder and all the knowledge that had been built up for agriculture and disease prevention was now faced with a new problem, which was that things were collapsing. So in many ways, it does echo the world we inhabit today, where we're encountering more bushfires and more floods. They were encountering a similar, although different, different phenomenon in reality, but it was leading to grain failures, to, you know, crop failures, to animals giving, you know, less milk or producing offspring at different paces. And so the Little Ice Age just lasts until the 19th century,  is part of the the big context of the sort of crisis that emerges around 1600, which is how do you support life in Europe when the environment is changing around you?  So we have climate change, pandemics, famine, it's starting to sound familiar, but ultimately things were not looking good for the citizens of Cremona at this point. How did the plague affect the lives of  Cremonese people in the early  17th century?  So I guess the first thing to say is that the plag

Welcome to another episode of “The Violin Chronicles” podcast that delves into the lives and legacies of the world's most renowned artisans and craftsmen. In today's episode, we journey back in time to explore the extraordinary craftsmanship of Nicolo Amati, a name synonymous with the art of violin making. In this Episode we look at a major turning point in this history of Cremonese violin making that you simply cannot miss. After the great plague of 1630 Nicolo is picking up the pieces of his life and moving on. Tracing the footsteps of this master luthier we will uncover the secrets behind Nicolo Amati's enduring legacy, a legacy marked by precision, passion, and innovation. From his early years in Cremona, Italy, to the workshop where he meticulously crafted some of the most exquisite violins in history. We'll also explore his influence on subsequent generations of violin makers, including the revered Stradivari and Guarneri families and how they were so greatly influenced by this master luthier. Through interviews with experts in the field and insights from contemporary violin makers inspired by Amati's genius, this episode offers a deep dive into the world of stringed instrument craftsmanship. Whether you're a seasoned musician, a lover of fine arts, or simply curious about the magic behind the music, Nicolo Amati's story is sure to captivate your imagination. So, tune in as we unravel the enchanting tale of Nicolo Amati, the craftsman who transformed wood and strings into timeless works of art that continue to resonate with the world's most discerning musicians and collectors. Get ready for an enriching and harmonious journey through the life and work of this true master of the craft. Transcript In the last episode of the Violin Chronicles, something kind of crazy happened. The bubonic plague that swept through northern Italy basically killed every violin maker. Except one, Nicolo Amati, which made him, I suppose, the best violin maker in Italy, right?  But all that aside, he was still a very talented craftsman, thankfully. So just imagine about half the people you know and don't know in your life dying in a very short space of time. There's war, famine, crazy inflation, and pandemic ever looming on the horizon.  This is Nicolo's life right now. Hello and welcome to the Violin Chronicles, a podcast in which I, Linda Lespets, will attempt to bring to life the story surrounding famous, infamous, or just not very well known, but interesting violin makers of history.  I'm a violin maker and restorer. I graduated from the French Violin Making School some years ago now, and I currently live and work in Sydney with my husband Antoine, who is also a violin maker and graduate of the French school, l'Ecole Nationale de Luthierie in Mircourt. As well as being a luthier, I've always been intrigued with the history of instruments I work with. And in particular, the lives of those who made them.  So often when we look back at history, I know that I have a tendency to look at just one aspect, but here my aim is to join up the puzzle pieces and have a look at an altogether fascinating picture. So join me as I wade through tales, not only of fame, famine, and war, but also of love, artistic genius, Revolutionary craftsmanship, determination, cunning, and bravery that all have their part to play in the history of the violin.  Before I start the show today, I would like to say a really big thank you to some Patreon members, Joe F.,Charlotte F., and Nicoree K. Thank you for keeping the show happening. And if you'd like to join them, head over to patreon.com. So far in this series on the Amatis, we have seen Andrea Amati, the first big name to come from Cremona, making his mark by crafting a stunning set of instruments for the French court of Charles IX.  Then the Amarti brothers, who were Andrea's two sons, carry on the family workshop amidst tumultuous times. They have a fight and split the workshop. The older brother, Antonio, moves down the street and the younger brother, Girolamo, stayed on in the family workshop.  His son, Niccolo, managed to survive the plague and now here we are in the 1630s at the third generation of the family. This week, we find Nicolo Amati in his workshop making, making, making violins, and then he starts to change what he is doing, and the decisions Nicolo makes will start to transform the landscape of the violin forever. So stay with me as we work out what these changes were and how they rocked the violin world. I speak to Benjamin Hebbert, expert dealer and author in Oxford.  Normally when we talk about Amati, often people are actually referring to Nicolo Amati. Why do you think he's so important and why, and  how is he different from the others?  Well, I think the amazing thing about all of the Amatis is how things change. And you would have thought that once, once you've sort of set upon something like this, at least, you know, decade to decade, you'd have, you know, very, very little change. But when you look at Cremonese instruments, you know, even two instruments made in the same year have got some level of fundamental difference to them and you know, this,  this idea, almost like a painter, uh, you know, the canvas might be restricted to making a violin, but,  you know, a painter who has to paint  a hundred portraits of the same king never stops being creative about each portrait, and that's sort of, that's sort of where you seem to be with violinists. Just through the late 16th century, 17th century, builds up ideas. But Nicolo Amati in about 1630, in fact the earliest Nicolos where he does this are, uh, you know, possibly late, late 1620s,  are actually ones where he's still using his, his father and his uncle's label. But he produces a grand pattern of violin. This might not seem unfamiliar  to us now, because that's what becomes the pattern of violin. You know, that's eventually what Stradivari adopts. It's what the violin in your case is.  But that's, that's Nicolo's improvement. Nicolo Amati is making his grand pattern violin. But what is so special about the grand pattern?  So much is happening in his life and musically at this time. And up until this point, Nicolo Amati is still using his father's and uncle's labels, the Amati brothers label. And this is somehow very symbolic. He is still carrying on the tradition of his family, of his uncle and brother. He's not yet using his very own label, but this is about to change. I talk about difference, but with Andrea Amati, I know we're talking about Nicolo here. Uh,  Andrea Amati, everything is mathematical. He figures out the inside of the instrument as based on this geometry on, on, uh, what we call catenary curves, the arching, and he figures out the outside as curtate cycloids, which fit around that. The scrolls are absolutely perfect Fibonacci sequence.  Scrolls like an ammonite, you know, everything's perfection. And I think as that travels through until the 1620s,  everything is fixed.  On the idea of the violin, the Cremonese violin, being an orchestral violin.  And therefore you can't, you can't get away from that design which becomes bigger or smaller. So Niccolo's Grand Pattern.  To start with, if you can remember back to the episodes on Andrea Amati, we spoke about his order of instruments for Charles IX.  In this order, there were 1st and 2nd violins, violas and cellos.  The 1st violins are smaller than what we would today consider a full sized instrument, and the 2nd violins are what Nicolò Amati based his grand pattern on, and today is what we call a cello. A standard full sized violin. There are still some of these smaller sized Amatis that we come across in the workshop from time to time. These are lent to very talented children and are considered seven eighths or three quarters. But it is interesting to note that these were not children's instruments,  So the sizes of these violins, I'll start with the first violins, the little one, their body, their back length is 342 millimeters. That's 13. 5 inches for the, for my lovely American listeners. And for the larger violins, they're 355 millimeters. So 14 inches. And that's your standard violin today.  So I just want to say that I realized that a lot of you listeners are actually American, and I've been using meters and millimeters and kilometers. So I'm sorry, I'm going to try and put in some imperial measurements for you.  So why did Nicolo Amati make his grand pattern violin? What was wrong with the model Andrea Amati had developed and had been working perfectly well up until now?  sonatas, which the solo sonatas, which are appearing in In Venice, and Rome in particular, in the 1620s, the idea of having a more solo voice for the, for the violin emerges, and really what Nicolò Amati does is he says, well, this isn't so important. Sometimes we can make a violin wider.  And that will have a miraculous effect on how the bridge is supported by, by the arching and that will create something which actually has a much, a much broader voice, something which is profoundly different. He's working with all the same ideas which, you know, which is inherited from 50 years beforehand. And by, but he's actually, The first person he's able to, and I suspect because the musicians are asking him to,  to make the modern violin,  the modern full size violin, which is wider and more Based on the second violin, because they seem to prefer second violins to first violins. We all do.  Sure, Ben. So here we have it. The modern violin. The grand patterns are the things which are absolutely absolutely wonderful, which happened from the 1620s right the way through to his death in 1684 and with increasing interest. So by the 1660s,  that's almost all that he's making. For some reason, Nicolo Amati survived the plague, but now being the head of the family, he had many responsibilities.  Looking after the various widowed and orphaned members of the clan, running a business and a household. All thi

Nicolo finds love, the workshop is full steam ahead and this violin maker has to find creative ways to get family members out of his house so his future bride doesn’t freak out! This is one busy luthier. Follow Nicolo Amati as his family grows and his influence as a violin maker branches throughout Italy and Europe. In this episode you will also meet a very important family in the story of the violin, the Guarneris, see how their lives overlap with the Amatis as we start to see the beginning of the end of the “house of Amati” Transcript Hello and welcome to the Violin Chronicles, a podcast in which I, Linda Lespets, will attempt to bring to life the story surrounding famous, infamous, or just not very well known, but interesting violin makers of history.  I'm a violin maker and restorer. I graduated from the French Violin Making School some years ago now, and I currently live and work in Sydney with my husband Antoine, who is also a violin maker and graduate of the French school, l'Ecole Nationale de Lutherie, in Mirecourt. Welcome back to the story of Nicolò Amati, the third in this generation of violin makers.  We now find him in his mid 40s. He has survived the bubonic plague in which he lost many of his family members. He lives in the house his grandfather, Andrea Amati, bought and passed on to his sons. And now Nicolo finds himself with an odd crew of orphaned cousins, nephews, nieces, and siblings to look after post pandemic. The world in which Nicolo lived was changing dramatically. These were the years that Europeans were arriving in the Americas. There were the Spanish and Portuguese in the south. Up north were the English, Dutch, French, and the Swedes.  In 1644, when Nicolo Amati was entering his late 40s, the young Antonio Stradivari was born. Most likely in Cremona and not far from the Amati home.  The question, looking at Nicolo Amati this week is, was he just an artisan at the beck and call of musicians and wealthy patrons, looking to have a collection of instruments for musicians coming to their house or court?  Socially speaking, where did Nicolo Amati sit in the greater scheme of things? And why was it that Luthiers from Cremona had this reputation of producing excellent instruments? Why were they better than any other city in that part of Italy at the time?  Rome, Naples and Venice were all important cultural centres then, so what made this relatively small city stand out?  Well, in the last episode of the Violin Chronicles, we saw Nicolo Amati surviving the plague and getting on with his life. He gives up depending on family members to help him in the workshop and starts to employ apprentices who come and live and work with him, notably two teenagers. Andrea Guarneri and Giacomo Gennaro.  He also starts to make his grand pattern violin. It is surprising that by making something a few millimetres bigger and slightly changing the outline and archings of the violin, he really does change the potential of this instrument and lay the groundwork for the very well known violin makers to come after him. Niccolò Amati's clients were often noble families and the church, much like his father and grandfather had.  And he would even sell instruments that were not his, such as a local priest and musician, Don Alessandro Lodi, whose family turned to him when he died to sell his collection.  Here we see Nicolò Amati’s instruments fetching a good price, where others were selling their instruments for 5 ducati Nicolò's violins were going for 15 ducati and 22 for a viola. The double bass he sold from the priest's collection that was not his. It could have been a Brescian instrument, was only 13 Ducati.  From the high prices Nicolo Amati demanded for his instruments, we can clearly see that he was not a lowly craftsman, but was an educated and literate member of his community, having gone to school before learning his trade with his father. It would have been important for him, in dealing with his noble clientele, to have a certain level of learning and a knowledge of business, mathematics, and accounting, as would many of his artisan colleagues.  At this time in Cremona, schools were attended mainly by children of merchants and nobles, but not only. At school, they would learn. In addition to the traditional subjects of Geometry, Arithmetic, and even Astrology, subjects such as Geography, Architecture, Algebra, and Mechanics, both theoretical and applied.  Carlo Chiesa, violin maker, expert, researcher, and author from Milan.  It is also worth noting that the Amatis at that point, they were wealthy enough people. This is very important because  It means they, the kids had an education.  They were able to go to school, to be trained properly, not just in the workshop.  And they were artisans of a high level anyway. So the daughters of Andrea who got married, they usually got married with good doweries with the people who were from the same social status, and that is also worth noting important because they were not. It means that  they were not working for low class musicians, but usually their commission went. to noblemen or high-class customers, which they were able to deal with. That is also another of the reasons for the success of cremonese making, because the artisans were able to deal with the high class. Nicolo Amati was a product of the Cremonese system. He was not only a talented artisan, but also had a level of education that enabled him access to the upper echelons of society. And this appears to have always been where violin makers sit. Never being part of the nobility as they were in trade and part of the merchant class, yet their product interested and sometimes fascinated the noble classes, somehow giving them a form of access or small door into their world being almost acceptable. As for Nicolo's workmanship, he had always shown a spirit of innovation and thought.  He was experimenting in different sizes of instrument in an effort to improve his product and this reflects the time and place he lived. It was, don't forget, the renaissance, and as their world was a relatively small place, he would certainly have known fellow artisans in town, such as the very interesting Alessandro Capra and his sons. Cremona was renowned for its engineers, both civil and military, who published books on their work. They were, after all, on a military highway.  What better place to have your shop window? Alessandro Capra, architect and plumber, had opened his workshop in town where he would display his inventions and offer his services as either a military or civil engineer. He also carried out teaching activities for apprentices interested in learning science, art, maths and geometry.  From his workshop, he would obtain commissions from various parts of Italy for machines and inventions.  In his domestic artisans workshop, he displayed his machines and various models. Lining the walls were precious books filled with information on land surveying, perspective, applied geometry, arithmetic, and merchant accounting. These were handbooks written expressly for craftsmen, artisans, artists, and technicians. They were not for a specific trade but information for people involved in these activities. and were practical guides on how to go about business.  The printed works of Capras were like professional development manuals. They were presented as  a collection of craft and commercial problems useful for the training of future generations of craftsmen and traders, land and real estate owners.  It also advised landowners on how to earn more money and lower income earners on how to manage better their real estate. It was a 17th century version of how to make friends and influence people. Alessandro Capra also mentions the benefits of following military campaigns, scientific skills linked to the solution of problems, fortifications, ballistics, engineering, mechanical and hydraulic, management and organization of people.  Cremona was a great place to be for this as it was continually in the midst of military campaigns and would have facilitated this scientific environment. But back to the Casa Amati. Nicolo had two assistants living with him that I mentioned earlier and they are actually quite important to our story. They made a team in the workshop and Nicolo trusted them not only with the work on it, instruments but also in his business dealings and everyday life. They were legal witnesses on legal documents and even civic occasions such as his wedding.  These two assistants were of course Giacomo Genaro and Andrea Guarneri. Andrea Guarneri is the first in the great family of the Guarneri makers of Cremona and here we see his close relationship with his master. Carlo Chiesa explains. And, and then did Andrea  Guarneri did he go on to, his instruments, were they based on the Nicolo's Grand Patten? Sometimes and sometimes also on the other side, Andrea was was a good maker, intelligent maker. And he also, and I'm sure he went on working for Amati also after he moved to his own workshop because their workshops were very close to each other in the same block. And there was a back alley in which they both had a door. So that through the back alley, the two workshops were very, very close to each other. They could pass a violin. There's a customer here. I have not a violin finished. You've got one. Yeah, I'm finishing that one. Take it. Take this one. Put your label in. In 1640, Nicolo Amati stops using the brothers Amati label. It is now almost as if he is truly affirming himself, starting a new chapter in his life. By using the brothers Amati label, his father's, he was in no way trying to deceive people who knew very well that his father was dead, but rather that he had built this instrument in his father's style. Even though he had made the instrument, it was in essence an Amati Brothers instrument.  After his father's death, he did indeed create a different model, his grand pattern, and started putting in his own label.

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Girolamo II Amati was the last of the Amati family of violin makers in Cremona. He worked along side Antonio Stradivari and the Guarneri family in an intense moment of violin making and musical discovery at the time. Listen to how he fits into the story of the violin and turns out to be more that what he is (or not) remembered for. Transcript   Hello and welcome to the Violin Chronicles, a podcast in which I, Linda Lespets, will attempt to bring to life the story surrounding famous, infamous, or just not very well known, but interesting violin makers of history. I'm  a violin maker and restorer. I graduated from the French Violin Making School some years ago now, and I currently live and work in Sydney with my husband Antoine, who is also a violin maker and graduate of the French school, l'Ecole Nationale de Luthierie in Mircourt. As well as being a luthier, I've always been intrigued with the history of instruments I work with. And in particular, the lives of those who made them.  So often when we look back at history, I know that I have a tendency to look at just one aspect, but here my aim is to join up the puzzle pieces and have a look at an altogether fascinating picture. So join me as I wade through tales not only of fame, famine, and war, but also of love. Artistic genius, revolutionary craftsmanship, determination, cunning, and bravery that all have their part to play in the history of the violin. Welcome to the Amati workshop where over the last 150 years generations of instrument makers have lived and worked and the fourth generation is about to start his apprenticeship with his father who is perhaps the most famous of the family due to his beautiful craftsmanship and innovation of design. I'm talking about Niccolo Amati.  In 1660, a young 11 year old Girolamo, Nicolo's son, Amati is taken into the workshop. Up until now, he would have been going to the local parish school, learning to read and write. At home, he would be doing odd jobs in the workshop, helping out his father. But now he was going to start working with him and the other apprentices and workers in the shop for real. Who would not have been proud to work in the famous Amati workshop that attracted the attention of nobles, royals, and also some of the other local boys in town. Especially one who was five years older than Giolamo Amati, named Antonio Stradivari.  Nicolo Amatis son would be spending his days with his father and his assistants. At the moment, his father's employees included Bartolomeo Pasta and Giovanni Battista Rogeri.  Around the corner lived and worked close family friends, the Guarneri's.  Already they had five children and it looked like more were on the way.  Girolamo II, as he is known, would have spent a lot of time with his father's senior assistant, Giovanni Battista Rogeri, whose style was bolder than Nicolo's and his influence can be seen in the work of Girolamo Amati II, who would become the last violin maker of the Amati family. As far as business went, the demands for violins were still strong from home and abroad. Whilst Nicolo Amati’s career was in full swing. North of Italy, a Dutch scientist had just invented the first pendulum clock, and this would forever have an impact on music, as it would lead to equal temperament. Simplified, that really just means that everyone agreed on the speed of the music being played, more or less.  Music was being written about and innovations were being adapted to help musicians and the musical environment. There was the printing press that was making it possible for music to travel, opening up exciting new horizons for musicians. And in the eye of this musical storm, slowly but surely, our violin makers, cutting, scraping, plaining and gouging away, were making instruments for this new market.  Music was on the road to becoming standardized.  Equal temperament and a printed score. You could play a piece of music in London, Paris or Florence and it would be more or less the same, hopefully. While Italy and France were often at odds, the dance and music loving King Louis XIV could only have helped the industry of instrument making with his famed 24 violins in his royal court.  Benjamin Hebert, expert and dealer in Oxford.  1661 is when Lully comes to the French court,  and he creates the Petit Band, where he gathers around for the first time since the Valois dynasty, Italian musicians playing, playing French music informed by the new Italian ways of thinking, and there is one of these French court Amatis, where we can absolutely say that the new front, the restoration, is right on the nail for Lully taking these things out of the cupboard and saying, hey, we've already got some great instruments to do this with. By which time, you know, the smoke has cleared. It's history that these have got Valois connections, and it's not as offensive as it would have been to the Huguenot king and his court of people who'd been, you know, routinely assassinated and murdered and genocidal maniac  by, uh, Catherine de Medici's henchmen. Yeah, I was, I was reading that about three million people died in the wars of religion. And I sort of did the equivalence for today for the French population, and that would be like today, nine million people dying in France. Like it's, it's huge. It's pretty,  it's pretty huge. Um, sorry, the corners.  talking about that it  softened. It's because like they were in a line and you didn't want to get poked by the violin next to you.  Is that it? I did a project years ago where some people in France produced 24 violins and they didn't do any bows. And  what we ended up with was a bow, which is about a foot long. Maybe, you know. Maybe 14 inches or so. Really diddy bow.  And actually what we decided, we then subsequently found that Pochette, so French dancing master's fiddles in the Victorian Albert Museum, there's one in a beautiful red leather case with its bow which we actually took as a kind of prototype for everything and then it suddenly hit us, the reason why a Pochette is the size that it is so that it's the same size as the bow.  And the bow is the same bow that you'd play on a proper violin if you're doing dance stuff.  And the way that you've got to imagine it is that everybody in France in the court has got these incredibly tight costumes.  The rudest thing that I could do to you if we're French is, instead of sticking two fingers up at you or whatever, is to actually raise my elbow sharply in your direction. Because it means, it means eff you so much that  I'm actually willing to rip my, my costume in order to, in order to show my anger towards you. So that's how the courtiers dress, the musicians dress the same way.  It's like, like, in like those Shakespeare things where they rip their shirts off, like, Like that. Pretty much, yeah, exactly. So, I mean, you know, all stuff is so expensive, but you're absolutely corseted into these things.  If you, if you think about, you know, kind of having your elbows down against your rib cage and trying to play a violin that way. on both, on both sides. And then here's the thing. If you, if you let your, your wrists go upwards so that your thumb sits nicely on the hair,  then actually get this very staccatoish playing position where you've got short notes,  you've got a lot of tension. Rather like playing a viola da gamba, in the way that the bow is twisted onto the string. And it just, each note is explosive and short.  And you look at this early French stuff, and it's often got a drum, and you've got the same staccato that the drum is able to give you. Just, you know, short, tight notes. And so everything came together. And then the icing on the cake was the very few images that we saw, had people so close together that you couldn't stick your, you just couldn't stick your elbow in somebody else's face because, because there's not the room to do it. So it all, it all sort of magically came together that, you know, there's a really specific idea. And even an idea to, to the point that, you know, We know that the French had a unique sound and that, you know, this was something which was highly revered.  But we also know, I mean, the Talbot manuscript in England in the 1690s, 1710s, it actually gives two measurements for a dance bow and a dance flute. Sonata bow.  And, you know, I can bet you that Lully and his mates, after an exhausting night doing, doing, uh, you know, French court music, probably just loosened off their blouses, went down to the pub, picked up their sonata bows, and really let rip the way that they wanted to, because this was the difference. But this is what I think emerges out of You know, right out of that start. Emily  Brayshaw, fashion historian. Yeah, so the, the, the King's 24 violins, they would have, um, livery. They had that paid for them. Yes. Um, I don't, maybe they had wigs. Yeah, they would have. They would have definitely had wigs, um, their shoes, everything. So what's interesting with livery too is that, um, in a lot of these eras,  It was, uh, super expensive, so if you could afford to dress all your servants in livery, you would often do it in these luxury fabrics.  But what, uh, we, we have examples that, uh, extend in museums. What would happen though is they would deliberately cut them and make them. Um, so by cut, I mean like pattern and construction and stuff to be outside what was fashionable. And that meant that the servants, uh, Couldn't wear them on their days off. So you had to wear your livery because, you know, otherwise you'd be there in the tavern or whatever. And it's like, oh, you're going out in your work clothes. Yeah. It was like a uniform. Yeah, exactly. Exactly. So, you know, you're paying for these specific garments as well.  Closer to home, opera was taking off like a frog in a sock. Forget the French and their ballet, the Italians had opera and all the trimmings that came with it. And so, work was plentiful. Girolamo was happily working away in th

Want to hear about the worlds most expensive ballet performance, murderous royals and Cremonese violins? Well listen on to see what happened to Andrea Amati's instruments once they arrived in the French court.  To have access to this episode sign into Patreon, just go to Patreon/theviolinchronicles.com to listen.