Ep 39. Del Gesu Part 3: The Wilderness years

In this episode we look at the mysterious years following Del Gesu's departure from his fathers workshop and his early independent work. This is a period in his life when our hero is in his prime and the instruments are all his own. The army is back in town and Giuseppe is putting new labels in his violins that today have all but disappeared, what statement is he trying to make here? Transcript Welcome back to the Violin Chronicles podcast. A show dedicated to the stories of history's greatest violin makers. My name is Linda Lespets, and if you haven't already done so, I would encourage you to sign up to Patreon, that's Patreon.com/the violin chronicles, where you can get extra episodes and extra content and to support the podcast if you felt that it has been useful and that you've learned so It would be very much appreciated. But here in this third episode, we're gonna jump in and have a look at what our violin maker is up to. So picture this, it's the early 1730s in Cremona. Our hero, the young Giuseppe Guarneri, is standing before the altar in the Church of San Pantaleone By special decree with the usual bands of marriage conveniently skipped. He weds Katarina, a German woman from Vienna, right under the watchful eyes of the Church's Vicar General. The witnesses are nobles and neighbours and the ceremony formal and blessed. Yet beneath her there is a hint of scandal because this wasn't just any marriage. Giuseppe Guarneri had married a foreigner from among what many locals saw as the occupying forces, and as if that weren't enough to raise eyebrows in Cremonas narrow streets he wasn't about to settle down at the family home on Piazza San Domenico, no Guarneri Del Gesu and his new bride were leaving. His brother had written from Venice boasting of steady work and success making instruments. Meanwhile, back home, Del Gesu’s father, the elder, Giuseppe, was drowning in debt and dragging the family workshop down with him. The house was falling apart, the business barely alive, and Giuseppe Guarneri Del Gesu knew that if he stayed, he'd sink with it. So he packed up his tools, took his young wife, and vanished from Cremona for a while. Or at least vanished from records. Where did he go? Honestly, no one's quite sure. These are what I like to call the wilderness years. A time when the trail goes cold and speculation begins and yeah, I like to speculate. Now remember this was the same era as Antonio Stradivari's Golden Period when Stradivari's instruments were gracing the salons of princes and patrons across Europe. But while Stradivari's clients were wealthy and insulated from the region's economic troubles, the rest of Cremona was in deep depression. The market for fine instruments had shrunk, and the city's famed liutaio were competing for a handful of buyers. Del Gesu must have wondered, what's the point of making violins here when no one's buying? So he didn't stop entirely. He continued to make the occasional instrument, but this time he refused to put his father's label inside. He wanted no association with the elder Giuseppe Guarneri, whose reputation was well, less than spotless. The old man owed money to half the city. His health was failing and his name wasn't one to build a future on, Guarneri Del Gesu’s new labels read. Giuseppe Guarneri Andrea Nepos (Giuseppe Guarneri, grandson of Andrea). He deliberately skipped his father's name, linking himself instead to his grandfather, the revered student of the great Nicolo Amati. It was a bold move, a quiet act of rebellion, and a statement of identity. I'm my own maker and I belong to the legacy of excellence, not the shadow of debt. He probably knew people would talk that it wasn't proper to make violins under a new name while his father still lived. But Del Gesu wasn't one to bow to convention. He had a new life, a new wife, and he had plans even if that meant wandering into obscurity for a while. And so began the lost years of Giuseppe Guarneri Del Gesu. For the next six years, our violin maker drops off the radar. He and Katarina may have left Cremona to try their luck elsewhere as for his father, Giuseppe, well, not much is done in his workshop for the next few years. He's unwell his sons have left him, and it's hard these days to get any clients. I mean, he didn't stop completely. Things had just slowed down a lot. In 1724 alone in his workshop, Giuseppe Guarneri Filius Andrea made a violin. The wood for the belly was from the same tree that Stradivari was making some of his violins from. Of course, the wood merchant would've passed at Stradivari’s workshop first, so he could get the best pieces before leaving him what was left over typical. Or did Antonio Stradivari have pity on his ailing neighbour, abandoned by his sons, and, and give him some wood to make an instrument and pay off some outstanding debts? A few years later, our Liutaio Guarneri Del Gesu reappears in town archives, but this time as a property developer. In 1728, ...