The diatonic is the most simple genera in music, consisting of tones and major semi-tones; in the scale of which genus the smallest interval is a conjoint degree, which changes its name and place, that is, passing from one to another; a prominent air in this species of modern music is “God save the Queen,” entirely diatonic, without modulation, by the intervention of a single flat or sharp.
It may not be unacceptable to our readers to add a few particulars of one of the greatest composers that ever existed; we allude to the eminently illustrious George Frederick Handel, a name dear to science, and entitled to the grateful veneration of every amateur in this divine art. He was born at Halle, in Upper Saxony, on the 24th of February 1684. Scarcely was he able to speak, before he articulated musical sounds. His father was a professor of the healing art as a surgeon and physician, then upwards of sixty, who intended his son for the study of the law. Grieved at the child’s predeliction, he banished all musical instruments from his house. But the spark which nature had kindled in his bosom was not to be extinguished by the mistaken views of a blind parent. The child by some means or other contrived to get a little claverchord into a garret, where, applying himself after the family had retired to rest, he discovered means to produce both melody and harmony. Before he was seven years of age, the Duke of Weissenfells by accident discovered his genius, and prevailed on his father to cherish his inclination. He was accordingly placed with Zachan, organist of the cathedral of Halle; when, from nine to twelve years of age, he composed a church service every week. Losing his father whilst he was in that city, he thought he could best support his mother by repairing to Hamburgh, where he soon attracted general notice. This wonder of the age was then only fourteen, when he composed “Almeria,” his first opera. Having quitted Hamburgh, he travelled for six years in Italy, where, at both Florence and Rome, he excited much attention: at both which places he produced new operatic performances. In that clime of the harmonious muse, he was introduced to, and cultivated the friendship of, Dominico, Scarlatti, Gaspurini, and Zotti, with other eminent scientific characters. He was particularly caressed and patronised by Cardinal Ottoboni, in whose circle he became acquainted with the elegant and natural Corelli. It was here he composed the sonata “Il trionfo del tempo,” the original score of which is now in the Royal Collection. After which he went to Naples, where he set “Acis et Galatea,” in Italian, to music. Returning to Germany, he was patronised by the Elector of Hanover, subsequently George the First. In 1710 he visited London, by permission of his patron, who had settled a pension of £200 per annum on him. In London he produced the opera of “Rinaldo,” universally admired—equal with all his other productions that had preceded. He was compelled to leave, however reluctantly, the British shore, consistent with his engagement to his patron the Elector. He departed, not without exciting general regret, two years after his first arrival in this country. He soon appeared here again, however, and his return was welcomed like the rising of the genial orb of day before the wrapt Ignicolist! But now seduced by the favour which awaited him, he forgot to return. On the death of Queen Anne, who had also settled an annual pension of £200 upon him—equal to what he received from the Elector, his former patron—when that prince ascended the throne, Handel was afraid to appear before his majesty, till, by an ingenious contrivance of Baron Kilmarfyge, he was restored to favour, Queen Anne’s bounty being doubled by the king; and the chief nobility accepted an academy of music under Handel’s direction, which flourished for ten years, till an unfortunate quarrel occurred between him and Senesino, which dissolved the institution, and brought on a contest ruinous to the fortune and the health of our musician.
He was particularly patronised by the Earl of Burlington, the Duke of Chandos, and most of the distinguished nobility of Great Britain.
Having restored his health at the baths of Aix-la-Chapelle, he for the future chose sacred subjects, which were performed at his theatre in Lincoln’s Inn Fields, Covent Garden, and Westminster Abbey. He died in April, 1759, aged seventy-five, and was buried in Westminster Abbey, where he was honoured with a public funeral, six peers supporting the pall; the very reverend and truly learned translator of “Longimus,” Dr. Pearce, the Dean, and then Bishop of Rochester, performed the funeral service with a full choir.
He had been a great benefactor to numerous public charities. The funds of the Foundling Hospital were improved through him with the amazing sum of £10,299. The organ in its chapel, and the MS. score of his “Messiah,” were a present and a donation to the foundation from him. He left an amiable private as well as a good public character behind him.
His character as a composer is too well appreciated by the British public to require any remarks from our feeble and inharmonious pen.
SEALING-WAX, SEALS, &c.
Besides metals, five other mediums are enumerated by ancient writers, wherewith letters and public acts were sealed, viz., terra sigillaris, cement, paste, common wax and sealing-wax. That the terra sigillaris was used by the Egyptians, we have the evidence of Herodotus, and which, by inference, is strengthened by that of Moses who speaks of seal-rings or signets, whence we may safely infer, that they had a medium of some sort, wherewith they sealed. This lacuna Herodotus supplies, affirming it in direct terms, and assigning a name to the substance they used for that purpose.
This circumstance was only rendered questionable by Pliny, who alleges the Egyptians did not use those things.