MELLITUS (d. 624), bishop of London and archbishop of Canterbury, was sent to England by Pope Gregory the Great in 601. He was consecrated by St Augustine before 604, and a church was built for him in London by Aethelberht, king of Kent; this church was dedicated to St Paul, and Mellitus became first bishop of London. About ten years later the East Saxons reverted to heathenism and the bishop was driven from his see. He took refuge in Kent and then in Gaul, but soon returned to England, and in 619 became archbishop of Canterbury in succession to Laurentius. He died on the 24th of April 624.
MELLONI, MACEDONIO (1798–1854), Italian physicist, was
born at Parma on the 11th of April 1798. From 1824 to 1831
he was professor at Parma, but in the latter year he was compelled
to escape to France, having taken part in the revolution. In
1839 he went to Naples and was soon appointed director of the
Vesuvius observatory, a post which he held until 1848. Melloni
received the Rumford medal of the Royal Society in 1834.
In 1835 he was elected correspondent of the Paris Academy, and
in 1839 a foreign member of the Royal Society. He died at
Portici near Naples of cholera on the 11th of August 1854.
Melloni’s reputation as a physicist rests especially on his discoveries
in radiant heat, made with the aid of the thermomultiplier
or combination of thermopile and galvanometer,
which, soon after the discovery of thermoelectricity by T. J.
Seebeck, was employed by him jointly with L. Nobili in 1831.
His experiments were especially concerned with the power of
transmitting dark heat possessed by various substances and with
the changes produced in the heat rays by passage through
different materials. Substances which were comparatively
transparent to heat he designated by the adjective “diathermane,”
the property being “diathermanéïté,” while for the heat-tint
or heat-coloration produced by passage through different
materials he coined the word “diathermansie.” In English,
however, the terms were not well understood, and “diathermancy,”
was generally used as the equivalent of “diathermanéïté.”
In consequence Melloni about 1841 began to use
“diathermique” in place of “diathermane,” “diathermasie”
in place of “diathermanéïté,” and “thermocrose” for “diathermansie.”
His most important book, La thermocrose ou la
coloration calorifique (vol. i., Naples, 1850), was unfinished at
his death. He studied the reflection and polarization of radiant
heat, the magnetism of rocks, electrostatic induction, daguerrotypy,
&c.
MELODRAMA (a coined word from Gr. μέλος, music, and
δρᾶμα, action), the name of several species of dramatic composition.
As the word implies, “melodrama” is properly a
dramatic mixture of music and action, and was first applied
to a form of dramatic musical composition in which music
accompanied the spoken words and the action, but in which
there was no singing. The first example of such a work has
generally been taken to be the Pygmalion of J. J. Rousseau,
produced in 1775. This is the source of romantic dramas
depending on sensational incident with exaggerated appeals to
conventional sentiment rather than on play of character, and
in which dramatis personae follow conventional types—the
villain, the hero wrongfully charged with crime, the persecuted
heroine, the adventuress, &c. At first the music was of some
importance, forming practically a running accompaniment
suitable to the situations—but this has gradually disappeared,
and, if it remains, is used mainly to emphasize particularly strong
situations, or to bring on or off the stage the various principal
characters. Such plays first became popular in France at the
beginning of the 19th century. One of the most prolific writers
of melodramas at that period was R. C. G. de Pixericourt
(1773–1844). The titles of some of his plays give a sufficient
indication of their character; e.g. Victor, ou l’enfant de la forêt
(1797); Carlina, ou l’enfant du mystère (1801); Le Monastère
abandonné, ou la malédiction paternelle (1816). Another form
of melodrama came from the same source, but developed on
lines which laid more emphasis on the music, and is of some
importance in the history of opera. Probably the first of this
type is to be found in Georg Benda’s Ariadne auf Naxos (1774).
The most familiar of such melodramas in Gay’s Beggar’s Opera.
In these the dialogue is entirely spoken. In true opera the
spoken dialogue was replaced by recitative. It may be noticed
that the speaking of some parts of the dialogue is not sufficient
to class an opera as a “melodrama” in this sense, as is proved
by the spoken grave-digging scene, accompanied by music, in
Fidelio, and the incantation scene in Der Freischütz. To this the
English term “declamation” is usually applied; the Germans use
Melodram. But see Opera.
MELODY (Gr. μελωδία, a choral song, from μέλος, tune,
and ᾠδή, song). In musical philosophy and history the word
“melody” must be used in a very abstract sense, as that aspect
of music which is concerned only with the pitch of successive
notes. Thus a “melodic scale” is a scale of a kind of music
that is not based on an harmonic system; and thus we call
ancient Greek music “melodic.” The popular conception of
melody is that of “air” or “tune,” and this is so far from being
a primitive conception that there are few instances of such
melody in recorded music before the 17th century; and even folk-songs,
unless they are of recent origin, deviate markedly from
the criteria of tunefulness. The modern conception of melody
is based on the interaction of every musical category. For us
a melody is the surface of a series of harmonies, and an unaccompanied
melody so far implies harmony that if it so behaves
that simple harmonies expressing clear key-relationships would
be difficult to find for it, we feel it to be, strange and vague.
Again, we do not, feel music as melodious unless its rhythm is
symmetrical; and this, taken together with the harmonic
rationality of modern melody, brings about an equally intimate
connexion between melody on a large scale and form on a small
scale. In the article on Sonata Forms it is shown that there
are gradations between the form of some kinds of single melody
like “Barbara Allen” (see Ex. 1) and the larger dance forms of
the suite, and then, again, gradations between these and the
true sonata forms with their immense range of expression and
development. Lastly, the element that appears at first sight
most strictly melodic, namely, the rise and fall of the, pitch, is
intimately connected by origin with the nature of the human
voice, and in later forms is enlarged fully as much by the characteristics
of instruments as by parallel developments in rhythm,
harmony and form. Thus modern melody is the musical
surface of rhythm, harmony, form and instrumentation; and, if
we take Wagnerian Leitmotif into account, we may as well
add drama to the list. In short, melody is the surface of music.
We may here define a few technicalities which may be said to come more definitely under the head of melody than any other; but see also Harmony and Rhythm.
1. A theme is a melody, not necessarily or even usually complete, except when designed for a set of variations (q.v.), but of sufficient independent coherence to be, so to speak, an intelligible musical sentence. Thus a fugue-subject is a theme, and the first and second subjects in sonata form are more or less complex groups of themes.
2. A figure is the smallest fragment of a theme that can be recognized when transformed or detached from its surroundings. The grouping of figures into new melodies is the most obvious resource of “development” or “working-out” in the sonata-forms (see Ex. 2–7), besides being the main resource by which fugues are carried on at those moments in which the subjects and counter-subjects are not present as wholes. In 16th-century polyphony melody consists mainly of figures thus broken off from a canto fermo (see Contrapuntal Forms).
3. Polyphony is simultaneous multiple melody. In 16th-century music and in fugue-writing every part is as melodious as every other. The popular cry for melody as an antidote to polyphony is thus really a curious perversion of the complaint that one may have too much of a good thing. Several well-known classical melodies are polyphonically composite, being formed by an inner melody appearing as it were through transparent places in the outer melody, which it thus completes. This is especially common in music for the pianoforte, where the tone of long notes rapidly fades; and the works of Chopin are full of examples. In Bach’s works for keyed instruments figures frequently have a double meaning on this principle, as, for instance, in the peculiar kind of counter-subject in the 15th fugue of the 2nd book of the Wohltemperirtes Klavier. A good familiar example of a simple melody which, as written by the composer, would need two voices to, sing it, is that
