Final thoughts

In no particular order:

• Although the woodworking part of this project was complete back in late August, I already had a hunch that there would be no definitive conclusion to my labours, in the sense of putting down the final tool and proclaiming "Done!" Instead, the inevitable tweaking that was necessary to coax the best out of the sound and action continued on until late November, gradually tapering off until there seemed to be nothing left to do. So, after more than two years of work, things ended not with a triumphant bang, but a whimper of sorts—an enjoyable one, of course. In any case, I understand that professional makers also go through a period of tweaking after the major part of the work is done, until such time as they at last release the finished instrument to its new owner.
• From a woodworking standpoint, I learned (and here I can imagine the seasoned woodworker saying "Well, duh!") never to cut anything to its final dimension until as late in the game as possible. Eventually I clued in to the fact that I could cut something a whisker on the long side and sneak up on the correct fit by planing or sanding. But until then, I was forced to discard a couple of pieces of otherwise-good lumber because I had cut them a bit short during an attempt to nail the correct final dimension with just one cut. I did actually manage a correct cut in several crucial circumstances, and now I'm amazed I pulled that off, given that failure would have severely inconvenienced me. Beginner's luck, I suppose.
• The previous point has taught me great respect for the hand plane, which can easily nick off a thousandth of an inch when it's well sharpened and properly tuned up. I expect to spend time improving my hand-planing skills.
• It should be clear that this instrument is by no means a faithful copy of the original Trasuntino, for several reasons. Firstly, it doesn't use exactly the same materials, which should have been cypress for the case, soundboard and bridge, to name just one departure, or the same building techniques; secondly, most of the decorative details are different on my version; and thirdly, the process by which I laid out my instrument does not entirely replicate the methods used by the old builders, who designed their instruments using geometric constructions, deriving the dimensions from simple ratios of some basic quantity. The width of the keyboard, for example, was often used to determine the length of the cheek and the overall length of the instrument. String spacing between consecutive notes was typically 1/2" (the old Italian inch was a little larger than today's inch, being a bit over 26 mm, and varied slightly from town to town). But one aspect of this project that is in accord with the old way of working is the idea that whatever materials are easy to obtain are the ones used in making the instrument. In Italy, woods like cypress, pine, maple, chestnut and beech were widely available, so that's what they used. I went with cedar, poplar and walnut because I could get those easily: they have a track record in various schools of harpsichord-building, even if some of them weren't used in making the original Trasuntino.
• I've been keeping track of how much I've spent on tools and supplies, but out of respect for professional makers, I won't release any figures for the material costs of the supplies that go into making a harpsichord. The professionals deserve compensation for their time and experience, and the difference between the materials and the final price might look too much like a straight mark-up to an unsympathetic reader.