Foreign or Honorary Membership of Academies, etc.
Amsterdam (Netherlands Academy), Boston (American Academy), Brussels (Royal Society), Calcutta (Math. Soc.), Dublin (Royal Irish Academy), Edinburgh (Royal Society), Halle (K. Leop.-Carol. Acad.), Kharkov (Math. Soc.), Mexico (Soc. “Antonio Alzate”), Moscow (Imperial Society of the Friends of Science), New York, Padua, Philadelphia (Philosophical Society), Rome (Lincei), Stockholm (Swedish Academy), Toronto (Physical Society), Washington (National Academy), Wellington (New Zealand Inst.).
Correspondent of Academies, etc., at
Acireale (Zelanti), Berlin (Prussian Academy), Buda Pest (Hungarian Academy), Frankfort (Senckenberg. Natur. Gesell.), Göttingen (Royal Society), Paris, St. Petersburg, Turin, Istuto Veneto, Vienna. [194]
XI
WAR MUSIC
AN ADDRESS TO A SOCIETY OF MORRIS DANCERS
DECEMBER 21, 1914
According to the Dictionary of Music [195] the military march is meant “not only to stimulate courage but also to ensure the orderly advance of troops.” In other words, military music serves to incite and to regulate movement. But these cannot always be discriminated. The tramp tramp of marching soldiers is ordered by the rhythm of the band. This is obvious, but we cannot say how far the bravery of the tune puts strength into tired legs, and this would be incitement,—and how far it is the unappeasable rhythm that forces the men to keep going, and this may perhaps be called regulation. There are occasions when the trumpet comes as a signal to troops waiting to make some sublime effort, and where the fierce imperious sound has a lift and a sting which perhaps no pre-concerted signal of a weaker type could give. This is an example of incitement, but in as much as it determines the moment of attack it is also a regulating agent.
Marching is still of importance,—in spite of the part taken by railways in modern strategy. I should like to know whether the magnificent marches of the Russians are made to the accompaniment of a band or of the regimental choir. One sees in our volunteer army the tendency to sing on the march. But it must be allowed that neither words or tunes are particularly inspiring. The Englishman is habitually afraid of being solemn, and though his marching songs may contain good things they are apt to be treated in a light spirit. There is one which includes the words, “Rule, Rule, Britannia!” and “God Save the Queen!” but these famous phrases serve as chorus to lighthearted fragments, e.g. nursery rhymes, such as “Little Miss Muffett.” I regret to add that even this classic is not respectfully used. It should run, “There came a great spider and sat down beside her and frightened Miss Muffett away.” I forget the precise words of the parody, except its ending, “And Little Miss Muffett said, ‘Bother the creature!’” I still remember the fine effect of German soldiers heard many years ago singing the “Wacht am Rhein” on the march. Once, too, I listened to Zouaves, and no greater contrast can be imagined. It was hardly more than a murmur, a chatter of diverse scraps, and had no inspiring effect. These magnificent troops may need no artificial stimulus, but ordinary folk are certainly kept going by martial music. I remember, as a boy, marching to the tune of the “British Grenadiers,” which has foolish words, and is not striking from a musical point of view, but it seemed to take us along.
This march-tune comes in finely in Rudyard Kipling’s story of the Drums of the Fore and Aft. An untried British regiment is cut up by Afghans and retires in a helter-skelter rush, leaving behind two boys of the Band, who strike up the “British Grenadiers” with the solitary squeak of a fife and the despairing roll of a drum. The answer comes in a great cheer from the Highlanders and Gurkas waiting on the heights, and in a charge that turns defeat into victory. I wish that Kipling had allowed the boys to survive, but the tragedy of their death is after all the effective close. To return to marching-tunes. For average people all that is needed is a well marked rhythm: “John Brown’s body,” etc., is 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