The trumpet's loud clangor Excites us to arms.
I've got music in my head when I fight. I've got a certain rhythm, a certain way of fighting, a certain relaxation where I can let myself go.
Nothing could be smarter, more splendid, more brilliant, better drawn up than two armies. Trumpets, fifes, hautboys, drums, cannons, formed a harmony such as never been heard in hell.
The sound of the drum drives out thought; for that very reason it is the most military of instruments.
Who rant by note, and through the gamut rage; in songs and airs express their martial fire; combat in trills, and in a fugue expire.
Martial music has sudden and strongly marked transitions from one note to another which that style of music requires; while in that which is intended to move the softer passions, the notes imperceptibly melt into one another.
The martial music of every sideburned delinquent on the face of the earth.
Perhaps blue, red, and yellow strike the mind more forcibly from there not being any great union between them, as martial music, which is intended to rouse the nobler passions.
