No. 2 is the first number we have received of this periodical. It consists of twelve octavo pages, containing short airs, also duets for two flutes, arranged from popular compositions. We find here the six airs performed by Paganini; a waltz; a prelude and adagio, by Gabrielsky, and three other pieces. The work is neatly printed on good paper.
EXTRACTS FROM THE DIARY OF A DILETTANTE.
[Resumed from page 284 of last Volume.]
December 1st.—NOTHING is talked about, or thought of, except the siege of Antwerp and the general election. Sounds are heard on the Kent and Essex coasts, which turn out to be only the thundering of artillery, and the hopes of a dilettante are cast down long before the walls of the citadel begin to tremble. Bands of music are collecting in all quarters, but they eschew symphonies, overtures, and even serenades; their sole purpose is to drown, not accompany, the voices of rival candidates for parliamentary seats, who, by the way, are commonly gainers thereby, in having speeches reported which they could not have made. The autumn has passed away without a concert in the provinces worth mentioning, and the foreign journals are as barren of musical matter as our own newspapers. The doer of small Monday’s articles in the Chronicle, who used at this season to tell his hebdomadal tales of what great things were to be expected at the opening of the Italian opera—of Signori and Signore, surpassing all that had before been heard—of musical dramas, of which ‘green-room report’ invariably spoke ‘in the highest terms,’—of some wonderful wonder of wonders, whose fiddle was to reduce that of Calliope’s son to a mere kit, or to whose voice Stentor’s was but a gentle whisper,—even this urbane propagator of pleasing exaggerations is mute! However, a Polish Paganini, it is said, is on his way hither; but let us hope that he will leave his name behind him, for, if we have it correctly spelt, every syllable would cost a tooth in pronouncing. Also the celebrated concerto-drummer, and the famous guimbardist, with the young lady renowned for her grindery on the Vielle, are expected shortly; and rumour states, though I do not believe it, that the King’s theatre is to be the scene of their astonishing exploits; the whole pit to be converted into stalls at a guinea each, and the boxes, at ten, to be reserved exclusively for the Almackites. Query, is this the grand secret which we have been told Christmas is to divulge?
The Sphinx has now no riddle; but a neighbouring statue has long puzzled the learned of all nations by its supposed hymn to the rising sun. A very intelligent traveller, however, who lately visited Egyptian Thebes, and has published an interesting account of its antiquities, therein communicates the grand secret of the vocal stone, which he had from a gentleman who has long lived in its immediate vicinity. It fairly belongs to musical history, for the instrument employed by the cunning priestly performers was, it would appear, decidedly a musical instrument. The following is the statement:—
‘The famous musical statue of MEMNON is still seated on its throne, dignified and serene as the plain of Thebes. It is a colossus, fifty feet in height, and the base of the figure is covered with inscriptions of the Greek and Roman travellers, vouching that they had listened to the wild sunrise melody. The learned and ingenious Mr. Wilkinson, who has resided at Thebes upwards of ten years, studying the monuments of Egypt, appears to me to have solved the mystery of this music. He informed me that having ascended the statue, he discovered that some metallic substance had been inserted in its breast, which, when struck, emitted a very melodious sound. From the attitude of the statue a priest might easily have ascended in the night, and remained completely concealed behind the mighty arms, while he struck the breast: or, which is not improbable, there was some secret way to ascend, now blocked up, for this statue, with its companion, although now isolated, were once part of an enormous temple, the plan of which may now be traced.
‘Thanks to the Phonetic system, we now know that this musical statue is one of AMUNOPH the SECOND, who lived many centuries before the Trojan war. The truth is, that the Greeks, who have exercised almost as fatal an influence over modern knowledge as they have a beneficial one over modern taste, had no conception of anything more ancient than the Trojan war, except chaos. Chaos is a poetic legend, and the Trojan war was the squabble of a few marauding clans.’