The Violin ed. by Robert Riggs

Abstract

Reviewed by: The Violin ed. by Robert Riggs Chelsey Belt The Violin. Edited by Robert Riggs. (Eastman Studies in Music.) Rochester, NY: University of Rochester Press, 2016. [x, 326 p. ISBN 9781580465069 (hardback), $39.95; ISBN 9781782048527 (e-book), $39.95; ISBN 9781782048978 (e-book for handhelds), $24.99]. Music examples, illustrations, endnotes, index. Summarizing the essence of an individual instrument, particularly one as ubiquitous as the violin, is a risky endeavor. Existing histories of the violin have incited their share of controversy, and general studies must grapple with the problem of scope, the subject ever too broad to be treated satisfactorily by a single author. Robert Riggs acknowledges these pitfalls in his preface, stating that the book is by no means comprehensive and neither a history nor an encyclopedia; instead, the goal is to provide "space for moderately detailed discussions" on a few topics (p. xii). The majority of the five-author volume forms a chronological discussion of repertoire in the modern West, though outer chapters touch on symbolism and non-Western traditions. Riggs addresses The Violin to an audience of serious performers and informed listeners, to expand their understanding of "the musical and cultural contexts of the violin and its repertoire" (ibid.). This group is certainly well served by targeted literature, but such undertakings are always in danger of perpetuating undue historical stereotypes. In "Associations with Death and the Devil," Riggs interprets "deeply entrenched" [End Page 440] cultural traditions that position the violin as a symbol of mortality and the demonic (p. 3). He invokes the early Church's condemnation of dancing and instrumental music, and discusses twelfth- through fifteenth-century "Dance of Death" iconography: illustrations of skeletons dancing with the living, sometimes playing instruments (p. 5). In later vanitas and memento mori illustrations, instruments sometimes symbolize material pleasures. He also considers Romantic literary trends and the sensationalism surrounding Nicolò Paganini, both of which resulted in associations with the supernatural. Riggs identifies reflections of these attitudes in nineteenth-and twentieth-century musical compositions. The final element of his argument is the epithet "the devil's box," which came into use among some rural, conservative Americans due to the fiddle's connection with dancing and secularity (p. 30). By my estimation, the evidence presented by Riggs in chapter one is not sufficient to assert that the violin's associations with death and the devil were culturally pervasive before the nineteenth century. While church figures have in certain cases condemned dance and instrumental music as lascivious, blame was rarely aimed at bowed strings in particular. Riggs notes that medieval iconography often depicts the devil dancing; it is true that the violin has consistently been associated with dance music, but because the violin family was not widespread until at least the mid-sixteenth century, these examples cannot apply to its reputation. Most Dance of Death scenes also appeared pre-violin family, and, as Riggs states, the majority of instruments represented were not bowed strings (p. 8). After introducing the violin family (unfortunately applying the anachronistic label "cello" to the bass member) and its development into the seventeenth century, Riggs argues that depiction of violins and other instruments in seventeenth-century memento mori art (intended to remind viewers of their mortality) is another connection to death (pp. 13–14). The first example depicts Death as a skeleton violinist behind a couple engaged in music making; however, the violin here represents Death's participation in the activity rather than his character. The second is a still life with a pochette (a dancing master's narrow violin) and a skull resting on a music book. Rather than death itself, the pochette symbolizes mortal vanities that death will render irrelevant, so neither image quite positions the violin as inherently symbolic. It is the romantic imagination that allows such associations to materialize. Next, Riggs surveys the violin's role in fiction since the nineteenth century. Chapter 2 is divided along subgenres: novels featuring violinists' personal and professional lives; violin-playing detectives in mystery and crime; violins as characters or recurring symbols, fantasy and the supernatural; and short stories. Riggs finishes with Thomas Mann's Doktor Faustus (Stockholm: Bermann-Fischer, 1947), blending the previous categories. This series...