“I am willing to admit,” replied the vicar, “that in the ancient theatre, music always accompanied her sister science, assisting, animating, and supporting her; in short, that she was, in all respects, her friend and fellow labourer. ‘_Qualem decet esse sororem_,’ as the poet has it: but does not this rather prove that poetry, in itself, was insufficient to produce its effects without the aid of music? In farther proof of the power of ancient music, permit me to remind you that Plato has said, ‘No change can be made in music without affecting the constitution of the state;’ and Aristotle, who seems to have written his Politics only to oppose the sentiments of Plato, nevertheless agrees with him, concerning the power which music has over mortals; and has not the judicious Polybius told us that music was necessary to soften the manners of the Arcadians? In short, madam, music has lost its power over the passions of mankind, and this can only have happened in consequence of its having degenerated from its ancient purity and grandeur. If any one should have the hardihood to deny this my position, let him attend a modern rout in London. I have seen, my dear Miss Villers, a party at a whist-table, a dozen persons in _tête-à-têtes_, and as many solitary individuals, sitting like automatons, not one of them being moved by the concord of sweet sounds, with which some lady has been endeavouring to delight them. Had Timotheus appeared amongst them! hey, Miss Villers? I think I see the party at the whist-table, as his lyre successively changed from the Lydian to the Phrygian mode. I must, however, in justice state, that I once did see a lady lay down her cards in an apparent state of ecstasy, as a chorus of Handel suddenly burst upon her ear.” “And what might that chorus have been?” said Mr. Seymour, “‘_Blest be the hand?_’ But, joking apart, you appear to have satisfied your mind upon a point which all the learning of Europe has left in a state of doubt and perplexity.” “I have merely delivered an opinion, sir; you perhaps will favour us with your judgment.” “The subject under discussion, my good sir, is one upon which no person can ever deliver a judgment.” “And pray, Mr. Seymour, why not?” “For this plain reason, that it is not possible we can _hear_ both sides.” “Psha! will you never cease to sully the pure stream of enquiry with the dregs of ridicule?” “Well, then, to be serious; I agree with Miss Villers, that ancient music, whatever might have been its powers, was wholly indebted to the poetry which accompanied it for its influence over the feelings of mankind. It could not have been otherwise. The ancient instruments, as represented in sculpture, appear so simple as to be apparently incapable of producing great effects; and, indeed, amongst the writings of Aristoxenus, the oldest musical author, we cannot discover a trace of melody or harmony, such as we understand by _air_ accompanied with different parts.”