“And now, my dear vicar, have you done? Have you said all you think necessary, in defence of ancient music? If so, hear me, as the advocate of modern harmony. In the first place, there is not an anecdote which can be adduced in support of your side of the question, that may not be met with one parallel, and equally strong, in defence of mine. You cite the authority of Plato, to show that the constitution of a state may be affected by changing its national music. What said the great Lord Chatham?--‘_Give me the making of the national ballads, and I care not who makes the laws_;’ and the effects produced on the English people by Dibdin’s songs, fully justified the maxim: but remember Mr. Twaddleton, it was not the music, but the _poetry_ of those songs, which kindled the patriotic feelings which saved our country; and I apprehend that this has been the case in all ages, where the power of music has been said to excite the feelings of the populace. We know that the ancient bards of our own country called forth the emotions of their hearers by the poetry of their songs; and with what success they practised their calling we may imagine from the fact that Edward the First, in his conquest of Wales, had recourse to the barbarous expedient of murdering all the bards, from the many obstacles they threw in his way, by the strong hold which they had over the minds of the people. You have told us a story of Timotheus, and the influence of his harp over a drunken monarch. If this is adduced in proof of the power of ancient music, you must, at least, admit that modern times have also had a Timotheus, who could excite or calm, at his pleasure, the most impetuous emotions. Henry III. king of France, says ‘_Le Journal de Sancy_,’ having given a concert on occasion of the marriage of the Duke de Joyeuse, Claudin le Jeune, a celebrated musician of that period, executed certain airs, which had such an effect on a young nobleman, that he drew his sword, and challenged every one near him to combat; but Claudin, equally prudent as Timotheus, instantly changed to an air, _sub-Phrygian_, or _Lydian_, I suppose, which appeased the furious youth. But what shall we say of Stradella, the celebrated composer, whose music made the daggers drop from the hands of his assassins? Stradella was attacked by three desperadoes, who had been hired to assassinate him; but, fortunately, they had an ear sensible to harmony. While waiting for a favourable opportunity to execute their purpose they entered the church of St. John de Lateran, during the performance of an oratorio, composed by the person whom they intended to destroy, and were so affected by the music, that they abandoned their design, and even waited on the musician to apprise him of his danger. Stradella, however, was not always so fortunate; other assassins, who apparently had no ear for music, stabbed him some time afterwards at Genoa.”