The violin seems to me to be only a modification of the earliest lyre, having attached to it a vast body for the purpose of increasing sound, a contraction in the middle to allow the application of the bow, and an elongated neck to permit the same hand at once to support it against the shoulder and to stop the strings.
What has been gained by these changes?—By the body, loudness of tone; by the bow, continuity; and by the neck, a new mode of at once supporting and stopping.
What is the relative value of these changes?—Great loudness may be no advantage. Continuity may not be desirable, even when the voice is not engaged; and it never is so where the instrument is employed as a mere accompaniment. A new mode of at once supporting and stopping is only of use in this new application of the instrument.
What has been lost by these changes?—for it is really possible that we may have lost something by improving upon the Greeks, and that improvement upon the lyre of Apollo may deserve to be classed with improvements on the Philippics of Demosthenes, on the Iliad of Homer, on the Parthenon of Phidias, &c.—Why, by the body, we may have lost somewhat of the freer aërial vibration when we gained so much of the woody or boxy one, for these should bear a certain relation to each other; by the bow, we may have lost the natural ring of musical chords, when we gained the ever distinguishable scrape of horse-hair and rosin; and by the neck, we may have lost a more perfect stop, by trying at once to stop and support.
It is worthy of remark, that the mere external beauty of all instruments of this kind is destroyed by a large body or sounding-box. The most beautiful forms of the lyre, among the Greeks, had least of this; and even the guitar had a body proportionately small, if we may judge from that of which a figure, hitherto I believe unobserved, may be seen sculptured among the Townley marbles in the British Museum—No. 35 of the fifth room.
The violin has, in regard to beauty of form, too large a body. It looks something like the shell of a large crab with a tail attached to it. The bow, however, gives an external vibration which compensates for this; and it would almost seem that we might consider the length of the bow as added to that of the strings.
In the construction of stringed instruments, nothing seems more wonderful than that the strings should be incapable of producing what may be called musical sound, except in connexion with some hollow wooden or other body; that the vibrations of the former should seem incapable of being communicated to the air; and that, though the latter is itself incapable of producing any musical sound, it should so accurately communicate, and, as it were, enforce, the power of each otherwise silent string which is attached to it.—This subject requires further observation and inquiry.
So much for the body at present.—I would more particularly dwell on the great advantage resulting from the absence of that continuity of tone which is produced by the bow, where the instrument is a mere accompaniment.
Where tones are emitted in consequence of strings not being struck or rubbed, but merely set free from the finger, where these tones assist and verify the voice, and yet, owing to their peculiar quality, in no way interfere with it, and where, from want of continuity, they gradually fall while the tones of the voice steadily proceed, or even rise,—a beautiful contrast is formed, the voice acquires an accuracy, boldness, and independence which could not otherwise be obtained by it, and all its power and splendour are displayed to the utmost advantage.
It was evidently this change from non-continuity to continuity of tone, and the corresponding change of position, which unfitted the violin for an accompaniment to the voice, and which leave to the lyre its high prerogative in this respect.