converse ought to be shunned, and regarded with suspicion and
distrust." That this was the general sentiment in England is also
proved by the oft-quoted passage in "The Merchant of Venice," where
Shakspere notes the magic effect of music on men and animals, and
concludes with the verses--

"The man that hath no music in himself
Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds,
Is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils;
The motions of his spirit are dull as night,
And his affections dark as Erebus;
Let no such man be trusted."

This, of course, is a poetic exaggeration, for we know that there are
other sources of refinement besides music, and that some of the
noblest men and women can hardly tell two tunes from one another.
Nevertheless, the general presumption remains that music and jolly
good-nature go together, and that music is incompatible with crime. An
experience I once had in Switzerland brought home this fact to my mind
in a forcible manner. I was taking a fortnight's tramp, all alone, and
one day I came near the summit of a mountain pass where, some time
previously, a solitary tourist had been robbed and murdered. There was
no house within five miles, and I had not met a soul that morning
until I approached this place, when I suddenly saw a shabbily dressed
man coming down the road. Not having any weapon, I could not but feel
nervous, and my heart began to beat almost audibly. Presently the man,
who had apparently not yet noticed me, began to sing a Tyrolese
melody. With the first notes all my fear instantly vanished, and I
breathed freely again; for an instinctive feeling had told me that a
man intent on murder and robbery would not sing.