title. He had begun making
violins when he was twenty: he worked very slowly, only made a few,
and sold them at a moderate price to the foreign dealers who came to
the fairs at Hall. They soon became asked after, for they excelled as
instruments from the first moment that they were touched, and retain
to this day the clearest and the fullest notes, like the middle
tones of the flute, wonderfully sympathetic and rich. The peculiar
excellency is probably owing to the extreme care which he showed in
the selection of the wood. He used the hazel-fir tree, it is said. He
selected the wood himself, striking the trunk with his hammer to hear
its tones before he felled it. He would wander for days through the
mountain forests searching suitable trees. He studied each one, and
only chose that which exactly answered his purpose--generally those of
which the topmost boughs were already dead.

"When wood was being precipitated down the mountain-slides, he
would seat himself in some safe spot near at hand, and listen to the
different tones which the trunks uttered as they struck against the
rocks in their fall. He chose from these 'singing trees' those which
pleased his ear the most. He was also particular about the rings on
the stems of the felled trees. They must be harmonious and regular,
neither too near nor too far apart. For those portions of the violin
which were made in separate pieces he used very old wood, preferring
old inner doors and wainscoting.

"Although one of the most celebrated violin-makers that ever lived,
this peasant always remained poor. It is true that one grand duke
favored him, but then his patron died, and whilst the emperor
permitted him to be the court fiddle-maker, he was scandalized, like
the rest of the world, by his reading Lutheran books, picked up in the
market at Hall. These books caused him to be thrown into prison as a
heretic, and although in time released, debts and poverty embittering
his life, he became introverted and melancholy, until finally the
humble, patient worker, who had sent forth so much melody into the
world, was strapped to the wooden bench of his cottage at Absam, a
heart-broken maniac. The merciful messenger Death released him after
several years, but the bench and the hole in the wood by means of
which he was bound may still be seen.

"When the artist was forgotten his works increased greatly in value.
This occasioned other makers to endeavor to multiply their number,
in