Thus he
was unable to decide how far the exact year of its manufacture would
determine its value as compared with other specimens of Stradivarius. But although the Pressenda he had been used to play on was always
considered a very fine instrument both in make and varnish, his new
discovery so far excelled it in both points as to assure him that it
must be one of the Cremonese master's greatest productions. He examined the violin minutely, scrutinising each separate feature,
and finding each in turn to be of the utmost perfection, so far as his
knowledge of the instrument would enable him to judge. He lit more
candles that he might be able better to see it, and holding it on his
knees, sat still admiring it until the dying fire and increasing cold
warned him that the night was now far advanced. At last, carrying it to
his bedroom, he locked it carefully into a drawer and retired for the
night. He woke next morning with that pleasurable consciousness of there
being some reason for gladness, which we feel on waking in seasons of
happiness, even before our reason, locating it, reminds us what the
actual source of our joy may be. He was at first afraid lest his
excitement, working on the imagination, should have led him on the
previous night to overestimate the fineness of the instrument, and he
took it from the drawer half expecting to be disappointed with its
daylight appearance. But a glance sufficed to convince him of the
unfounded nature of his suspicions. The various beauties which he had
before observed were enhanced a hundredfold by the light of day, and he
realised more fully than ever that the instrument was one of altogether
exceptional value. And now, my dear Edward, I shall ask your forgiveness if in the history
I have to relate any observation of mine should seem to reflect on the
character of your late father, Sir John Maltravers. And I beg you to
consider that your father was also my dear and only brother, and that it
is inexpressibly painful to me to recount any actions of his which may
not seem becoming to a noble gentleman, as he surely was. I only now
proceed because, when very near his end, he most strictly enjoined me to
narrate these circumstances to you fully when you should come of age. We must humbly remember that to God alone belongs judgment, and that
it is not for poor mortals to decide what is right or wrong in certain
instances for their fellows, but that each should strive most earnestly
to do his own duty. Your father entirely concealed from me the discovery he had made. It
was not till long afterwards that I had it narrated to me, and I only
obtained a knowledge of this and many other of the facts which I am now
telling you at a date much subsequent to their actual occurrence. He explained to his servant that he had discovered and opened an old
cupboard in the panelling, without mentioning the fact of his having
found anything in it, but merely asking him to give instructions for the
paint to be mended and the cupboard put into a usable state. Before he
had finished a very late breakfast Mr. Gaskell was with him, and it has
been a source of lasting regret to me that my brother concealed also
from his most intimate and trusted friend the discovery of the previous
night. He did, indeed, tell him that he had found and opened an old
cupboard in the panelling, but made no mention of there having been
anything within. I cannot say what prompted him to this action; for the
two young men had for long been on such intimate terms that the one
shared almost as a matter of course with the other any pleasure or pain
which might fall to his lot. Mr. Gaskell looked at the cupboard with
some interest, saying afterwards, "I know now, Johnnie, why the one
shelf of the bookcase which stood there was made movable when all the
others were fixed. Some former occupant used the cupboard, no doubt,
as a secret receptacle for his treasures, and masked it with the
book-shelves in front. Who knows what he kept in here, or who he was! I
should not be surprised if he were that very man who used to come here
so often to hear us play the 'Areopagita,' and whom you saw that night
last June. He had the one shelf made, you see, to move so as to give him
access to this cavity on occasion: then when he left Oxford, or perhaps
died, the mystery was forgotten, and with a few times of painting the
cracks closed up." Mr. Gaskell shortly afterwards took his leave as he had a lecture
to attend, and my brother was left alone to the contemplation of his
new-found treasure. After some consideration he determined that he would
take the instrument to London, and obtain the opinion of an expert as
to its authenticity and value. He was well acquainted with the late Mr.
George Smart, the celebrated London dealer, from whom his guardian, Mr.
Thoresby, had purchased the Pressenda violin which John commonly used. Besides being a dealer in valuable instruments, Mr. Smart was a famous
collector of Stradivarius fiddles, esteemed one of the first authorities
in Europe in that domain of art, and author of a valuable work of
reference in connection with it. It was to him, therefore, that my
brother decided to submit the violin, and he wrote a letter to Mr. Smart
saying that he should give himself the pleasure of waiting on him the
next day on a matter of business. He then called on his tutor, and with
some excuse obtained leave to journey to London the next morning. He
spent the rest of the day in very carefully cleaning the violin, and
noon of the next saw him with it, securely packed, in Mr. Smart's
establishment in Bond Street. Mr. Smart received Sir John Maltravers with deference, demanded in what
way he could serve him; and on hearing that his opinion was required on
the authenticity of a violin, smiled somewhat dubiously and led the way
into a back parlour. "My dear Sir John," he said, "I hope you have not been led into buying
any instrument by a faith in its antiquity. So many good copies of
instruments by famous makers and bearing their labels are now afloat,
that the chances of obtaining a genuine fiddle from an unrecognised
source are quite remote; of hundreds of violins submitted to me for
opinion, I find that scarce one in fifty is actually that which it
represents itself to be. In fact the only safe rule," he added as a
professional commentary, "is never to buy a violin unless you obtain it
from a dealer with a reputation to lose, and are prepared to pay a
reasonable price for it." My brother had meanwhile unpacked the violin and laid it on the table. As he took from it the last leaf of silver paper he saw Mr. Smart's
smile of condescension fade, and assuming a look of interest and
excitement, he stepped forward, took the violin in his hands, and
scrutinised it minutely. He turned it over in silence for some moments,
looking narrowly at each feature, and even applying the test of a
magnifying-glass.