Incredible instruments: 300-year-old beloved violin is her 'voice'

"Sometimes, when I pick up my violin, I think about how part of my instrument was once swimming in the sea, and other parts were trees standing in forests in Europe, more than three centuries ago."

Ingrid Matthews plays and cherishes a 1703 Hendrik Jacobs violin so rare that it once was exhibited at Lincoln Center under auspices of the Smithsonian, the New York Public Library and the American Federation of Violin and Bow Makers. Matthews, a prize-winning young performer who is artistic director of Seattle Baroque, will play the Jacobs violin next weekend (in a Handel program with soloists Ellen Hargis, soprano, and Judith Linsenberg, recorder; 8 p.m. Friday, in University Christian Church, 8 p.m. Saturday in Nordstrom Recital Hall at Benaroya Hall).

"The purfling (a thin sandwich of veneer inlaid around the entire edge of an instrument) is whalebone, which is pretty rare," Matthews says. "The rest of it is made of maple, spruce, willow and cedar. What's also rare is that the instrument was never converted into a 'modern violin,' as so many baroque instruments were."

Never modernized

Nearly all of the great 18th-century violins, even the Stradivarius instruments, underwent what Matthews calls "numerous surgeries over the centuries." These resulted in including thinner, more sharply angled necks, higher bridges and longer fingerboards, all of which made the instruments louder and more penetrating as concert halls grew larger (during the 19th century). But the Jacobs instrument escaped the knife, possibly because it was owned privately and not being played publicly. The violin was made near the end of the life of Hendrik Jacobs (ca. 1629-1704), who studied violinmaking with the legendary Amati before moving north to open his own shop in Amsterdam.

Matthews is not entirely certain where the violin spent most of the time between Jacobs' hands and hers, though it was acquired from a monastery in Holland by the collector who sold it to Matthews.

"It was played, certainly," she guesses, "but probably not professionally in the 19th century."

Ironically, the very thing that makes the Jacobs violin so valuable to Matthews — the fact that it was never converted to modern specifications — means that its value is considerably lower than it would be otherwise. The violin is valued at around $40,000; many historic instruments of its era are worth in the millions. That's just fine with Matthews, who couldn't have afforded a million-dollar fiddle.

Right place, right time

Matthews' first acquaintance with the Jacobs violin extends back to 1989, when she was a graduate student. The collector Shigetoshi Yamada heard her play in Ann Arbor, Mich., and invited her to view his collection.

"I fell in love with the violin right away, and spent a few happy hours playing it — but being a graduate student, it never crossed my mind to think of owning it."

Yamada urged her to take the violin on loan, however, explaining that it had not been played in a long time; he wanted it to be used. Matthews, who plays with many baroque ensembles, had just landed a well-paying job with the ensemble Tafelmusik, and gradually she was able to buy the violin.

"When it is the right time," the soft-spoken Yamada had told her then, "the violin will come to you."

"And it did," Matthews says. She feels "blessed to be in the right place at the right time."

Matthews herself has an interesting history. She is an identical twin (her sister, Rachel Matthews, is a pianist and a founder of the CityMusic concert series at Town Hall). The two grew up in a family of professional musicians in North Carolina, and both sisters started "playing" on "little frozen-pea boxes with rulers attached."

Ingrid Matthews went to Indiana University to study with the renowned violin guru Joseph Gingold. She wanted to join the new-music orchestra, but it was full — which turned out to be a lucky circumstance. Matthews ended up in the school's baroque orchestra instead, with an unplanned immersion into old instruments and techniques — courtesy of Stanley Ritchie, formerly a Seattleite and Philadelphia Quartet member.

"Sometimes things don't turn out the way we plan," muses Matthews. "Sometimes they're better."

She still loves the Jacobs violin more than any other. She has learned all its quirks, its dislike of excessive heat and air conditioning, its need for tiny humidifying sponges that reach inside the F-hole of the violin. The violin doesn't like airplanes, which is unfortunate, since Matthews often travels (she is concertmaster for the New York Collegium, among many other commitments). Occasionally the varnish will buckle or an adjustment of the soundpost is needed, and Matthews turns to local violin expert David Van Zandt for help.

"This violin is an old lady, and she can be a bit cranky," Matthews grins, "but she suits me in such a deep way. This violin is like a part of me; it's my voice."

Melinda Bargreen: mbargreen@seattletimes.com.