The Salabue Stradivari

In Short

This book serves as a detailed monograph on the "Le Messie" Stradivari, a violin famously preserved in near-perfect condition since its creation in 1716. By tracing the instrument from the master’s workshop through the hands of a reclusive collector and a legendary dealer, the authors document its provenance while providing a rigorous technical analysis of its construction. It stands as a foundational text for those fascinated by the luthier’s craft, aiming to strip away myths surrounding Stradivari’s work and replace them with verified historical data and expert, physical observation.

The Story

The narrative arc of the "Le Messie" is one of long-term concealment and eventual revelation. Created in 1716 by Antonio Stradivari, the violin remained in the master's possession until his death, after which it passed to his family. The story gains momentum in the late 18th century when Count Cozio di Salabue, a man of immense wealth and discernment, acquired it from Stradivari’s son, Paolo. The Count recognized the instrument’s perfection and treated it as a crown jewel of his collection, setting the precedent for its preservation.

Following the Count's death, the violin entered a period of legendary mystery. Luigi Tarisio, a carpenter turned fanatical violin scout, acquired the instrument in 1827. Tarisio was a man of contrasts: a man of modest means who lived in squalor, surrounded by the greatest instruments of Italy, yet he possessed an unerring eye for quality. He famously traveled to Paris, tantalizing dealers with tales of an untouched Stradivari he kept hidden away in Italy. He never brought the instrument to France, keeping it as a "Messiah"—a legend everyone talked about but no one had seen. This secrecy grew to such proportions that the violin was dubbed "Le Messie" by a frustrated colleague.

When Tarisio died in 1854, he was found in his attic surrounded by his hoard of instruments. Shortly thereafter, the Parisian master J. B. Vuillaume traveled to Italy, located Tarisio’s heirs, and purchased the collection. Upon finally seeing the 1716 Stradivari, Vuillaume confirmed that the legends were true. He kept the violin for the remainder of his life, displaying it in a glass case and refusing to let it be played, fearful that any damage might befall it.

After Vuillaume’s death in 1875, the violin passed to his son-in-law, the violinist Delphin Alard, and eventually to Alard’s heirs. In 1890, the violin was finally sold to an amateur collector in Edinburgh for 50,000 francs, marking the highest price ever paid for such an instrument at the time. This sale concluded its long period of seclusion, allowing it to be studied and measured by the authors, who provide the final, definitive account of its physical state—its sharp, high ridges, its original varnish, and its untouched interior. The history of the instrument is thus framed as a story of stewardship, where each owner’s refusal to compromise the violin’s integrity ensured its survival for future generations.

How It Unfolds

The master's bench The account begins by establishing the immense productivity of Antonio Stradivari, whose career spanned decades of precise, manual labor. It debunks popular myths about the maker's age and highlights his role in supplying the noble courts of Europe.

The collector's eye The focus shifts to Count Cozio di Salabue, who recognized the historical importance of preserving these instruments. His acquisition of ten Stradivari violins in 1775 provides the first recorded provenance for the masterpieces.

The carpenter's secret Tarisio enters the narrative as a complex, obsessive figure who rescued instruments from obscurity. His reluctance to display his greatest find creates the mythic status that follows the violin to Paris.

The dealer's acquisition J. B. Vuillaume’s journey to Italy following Tarisio’s death marks the physical discovery of the violin. The text details his awe upon finding the instrument in the humble surroundings of a farm near Novara.

The technical revelation The final section transitions into a rigorous physical examination of the violin. By opening the instrument, the authors provide unique insights into its construction, varnish, and the intentionality of the master's hand.

The People

Antonio Stradivari is the silent, omnipresent force—a man who worked until his nineties with undiminished precision. His goal is the perfection of the violin, an objective he achieves so thoroughly that his work becomes the unattainable benchmark for all who follow.

Count Cozio di Salabue acts as the intellectual guardian of the craft. Driven by his love for the Italian masters, he amasses information and instruments that would have otherwise vanished. He is the bridge between the artisan’s original output and the later, more commercialized world of the 19th century.

Luigi Tarisio is the most enigmatic figure, a man of humble birth whose "absorbing passion" for violins leads him to live in poverty. He functions as a gatekeeper, protecting the instruments with a fervor that borders on the irrational, ultimately ensuring their survival while frustrating the elite dealers of his time.

J. B. Vuillaume, the master luthier of Paris, is the bridge to the modern era. His desire to replicate the perfection of Stradivari drives his success, yet he remains deeply reverent toward the "Le Messie," treating it as a sacred object that must be shielded from the world.

In Its Own Voice

"It is as though the ivory Minerva of Phidias, that stood once in the Parthenon, should be discovered hidden away with the utmost care in some deep dry and hermetically-sealed sepulchre of the East, and brought over scatheless to be set up amidst the Elgin fragments."

The Rev. H. R. Haweis offers this comparison to emphasize the rarity and shocking physical condition of the "Le Messie" when it was finally unveiled to the public.

"The back of the Vuillaume Stradivarius, which is the finest part, has clearly not been sand-papered in places, so probably not at all."

Charles Reade provides this technical observation to support his theory regarding the master's original methods of finishing the wood.

What It's Really About

The book explores the tension between an instrument’s existence as a functional tool and its status as a historical artifact. It asks whether a masterpiece is truly "alive" if it is never played, or if its greatest value lies in the preservation of the maker’s original, unadulterated intent. Through the history of this violin, the authors argue that the luthier’s art is a form of engineering that reached a pinnacle early on, leaving subsequent generations with the task of acting as mere custodians. It is a meditation on the permanence of human craft and the duty of the connoisseur to protect beauty from the degrading effects of time and utility.

Why Read It Today

Readers with a deep interest in music history, craftsmanship, or the provenance of art objects will find this volume invaluable. The prose is precise and dignified, reflecting the 19th-century expertise of the authors. While the technical descriptions of wood grain, purfling, and varnish are demanding, they offer a rare, unfiltered look at a masterpiece that is now rarely seen by the public.

The book captures the feeling of a detective story told with the sobriety of a museum catalog. You will feel the weight of the "romantic mystery" surrounding the violin and the genuine anxiety felt by owners who feared for its safety during times of war or social upheaval. It does not shy away from the contradictions of its subjects—like the "sordid poverty" of Tarisio or the commercial necessity of Vuillaume’s copies—which adds a gritty human element to the otherwise ethereal discussion of the instrument. Readers should be prepared for the specialized vocabulary of lutherie, but the reward is a clear-eyed understanding of why a single wooden box remains the most celebrated object in the history of music.