LETTER X. WE emerged from the street through a gateway into an open space where soldiers were drawn up in martial array: between their ranks marched a body of musicians richly clothed, breathing such thrilling sounds from the windinstruments they carried, raising at intervals, such a fearful clash, that I felt the blood curl back on my heart, and insensibly began to quicken my pace. L- saw my emotion, and smiled his sweetest: "Steady!" he said, "the parade is but just begun, we are in good time; they will be stationary presently, and enable us to hear the blending better; I like to see you so moved at what I can safely pronounce to be 'excellent.' Well does my old favourite, Shakspeare, say, "The man that hath no music in himself, Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils : Let no such man be trusted." "Meaning, that one so full of apathy could not be deemed a man of sensibility, of fine feeling. Happily, such cold spirits are few; almost every one is more or less affected at musical sounds, according to his own peculiar temperament, of the circumstances under which they are heard, and not unfrequently much more so at a second hearing, from the association of ideas between the melody, and the impression made by occurrences attending the first. For my own part 'I'm never merry when I hear sweet music.' Now listen attentively; they are going to play a Piece in their best style." At once there poured forth a stream of melody so rich and soft, qualities of tone so exquisitely blended, that I scarce dared breathe, for fear of losing a particle of the sound which absorbed my very soul: presently a strain was predominant which overwhelmed me with a delightful melancholy; my head involuntarily drooped: L said, "Where are you? the wailing of the bassoons has caught you. Next, a sound more cheerful, but still softer, came waving as if to fan and refresh ; I felt relieved from the oppression of sadness: "You are better now," said L"the horns have done wonders:" and now a sweep, tremulous yet strong, swept the ear: I could have sprung from earth in buoyancy: "That," said he," was the flash of the tromboni trumpet and Moorish cymbal; now I think you are ready for any deeds of daring. Is not music wonderful? And yet I am persuaded, from the rapid strides that science has lately made, both in theory and practice, it is yet in its infancy. In after times, the instruments now in use may become obsolete, be pronounced barbarous and uncouth." "But do, for heaven's sake, turn your eyes to those men uniformly clothed and armed, not with persuasive music, but with weapons wrought expressly for the extirpation of such of their brethren as the prize-fighters of our race may at their will and pleasure ticket for slaughter, as enemies to whim and lust of dominion; perhaps to their religion, to that religion which was given as the heal-all of man; to put away all discord, all grief, and to unite them as one federative band!! Look at them performing evolutions, manœuvres, which shall enable them to wheel and pounce as the hawk stoops! Look at their automaton movements, as if spell-bound by some master-fiend! Can any honest man, any true friend to humanity, argue that these men are in the state for which every one is produced? That the feelings with which they are inspired and led against their fellows, are those of Nature and Reason? Not that I would condemn them, or even their im mediate leaders; let us be careful to blame. principles, not the individuals through whose blind agency they are put in motion: these soldiers have sworn to do their duty; in plain terms, to aid each other in the work of destruction to their fellow-men: they must perish in the attempt, conquer, or retreat honourably: disgrace to a mind brought up in what we call honourable principles, whether well or ill founded, would be worse than death; it is absolutely insupportable. Honour is more truly second nature, than any other inculcated feeling. These men are personally brave, but have parted with their liberty, and are become wheels of the great state engine. Of all the machines in the world moved by foreign impulse, without one atom of self-motion, or even tendency to motion, a mercenary soldier who does not closely unite the military character with that of the citizen, is the most inert and passive; he is the veriest puppet the mind can conceive. He cares no more whether the cause for which he is bid to fight be just, or unjust, than that drum cares who strikes it; nay, not so much for the drum most strictly obeys the impulse the hand gives it, but the soldier is the slave of blind dictation, the organ of foreign will, and can never be kept to the precise line of impulse intended to be given him. It is true, the 'pomp and panoply of war' are most impressive, especially to an ardent disposition wanting vent on something: but this is only outside trickery; think of its effects, its success founded on waste of life, on the groans and tears of the surviving relatives who take but comparatively little share in its scenes and excitement! "It has been said, 'man is a pugnacious animal,' prone to combat with his species. I deny that. Certainly he resents a natural injury to his person, his property, or his near connections, who may be fairly said to be a part of himself, as involuntarily as a dog snaps at another who snatches his food: the clenched fist of man is his instinctive weapon, as much as the paws of the tiger are his: but to say, that the laws which regulate his being, bid him be led in squadrons against those whom the very scum of human nature, the refuse of mankind, capriciously designate as his foes, because opposed to their own single views of things, is manifestly the extreme of wickedness and absurdity. If one state is aggressed by another in the territories necessary for the nourishment and due support of its citizens, then may they well take up arms and unite in common defence against a common foe: but not a jot further. No shedding of innocent blood for alledged |