an
admirable march, though taken from its context of tramping soldiers it is
hardly a fine tune. But so far as words are concerned it must be allowed
that the refrain, "His soul goes marching along," is in the right mood
for a war song.

It may be objected that if all I want is rhythm I should be satisfied
with instruments of percussion alone. To this I reply that the effect of
drums is splendidly martial. I was at Aix at the outbreak of the war,
and every day the regiment quartered there used to march out to the music
of drums, and of bugles which played simple tunes on the common chord.
When the buglers were out of breath, the drums thundered on with
magnificent fire, until once more the simple and spirited fanfare came in
with its brave out-of-doors flavour--a romantic dash of the hunting song,
and yet with something of the seriousness of battle. And indeed this is
the sort of melody that suits the dauntless spirit of our allies. As I
watched these men, so soon to fight for their country, I was reminded of
that white-faced boy pictured by Stevenson, striding over his dead
comrades, the roll of his drum leading the living to victory or death.
Drums are said (incorrectly I believe) to be made of donkey's skin, and
Stevenson imagines how, after death, the poor beast takes this magical
revenge for the blows received in life, by leading cruel man to
destruction. The old English military music seems to have been played by
drums alone. King Charles I issued a warrant in the following words:
{198a} "Whereas . . . the March of this our nation so famous in all
honourable achievements and glorious warres of this our Kingdom in
forraigne parts was through the negligence and carelessness of drummers
. . . so altered and changed from the ancient gravity and majestic thereof
as it was in danger utterly to have been lost and forgotten. . . ." He
therefore wills and commands drummers to play only what is recorded in
the curious old notation of that day. It must be remembered that drums
and trumpets had something of the sacredness of Royalty in the 17th
century. No one was allowed to play them in public without a license
from the Sergeant Trumpeter, {198b} an officer who certainly existed a
few years ago, and may, for all I know, still survive. In the 17th
century it was a post of some dignity, and gave its holder the title of
Esquire.

During the great retreat in the winter of 1914 the effect of music was
magnificently