see it
on the occasion of some high festival! Picture to yourself above the
altar, where commonly the tabernacle shines, a Dove suspended from a
golden crozier, its wings outspread amid clouds of incense; then a whole
army of monks deploying in a solemn rhythmic march, and the Abbot
standing, on his brow a mitre thickly set with jewels, his green and
white ivory crozier in his hand, his train carried by a lay-brother when
he moves, while the gold of many copes blazes in the light of the
tapers, and a torrent of sound from the organ bears the voices up,
carrying to the very vault the cry of repentance or the joy of the
Psalms.

"It is glorious. It is not the penitential austerity of the liturgy as
it is used by the Franciscans or at La Trappe: it is luxury offered to
God, the beauty He created dedicated to His service, and in itself
praise and prayer. But if you wish to hear the music of the Church in
its utmost perfection you must go to the neighbouring Abbey: that of the
Sisters of Saint Cecilia."

The Abbe paused, whispering to himself, thinking over his reminiscences;
and then he slowly spoke again,--

"Wherever you go, the voice of a nun preserves, merely by reason of her
sex, a sort of emotion, a tendency to the cooing tone, and, it must be
owned, a certain satisfaction in hearing herself when she knows that
others can hear her; so that the Gregorian chant is never perfectly
executed by nuns.

"But with the Benedictine Sisters of Sainte-Cecile all the graces of
earthly sentimentality have vanished. These nuns have ceased to have
women's voices; the quality is at once seraphic and manly. In their
church you are either thrown back I know not how far into the depth of
past ages, or shot forward into time to come, as they sing. They have
outpourings of soul and tragical pauses, pathetic murmurs and ecstasies
of passion, and sometimes they seem to rush to the assault, and storm
certain Psalms at the bayonet's point. And they do assuredly achieve
the most vehement leap that can be imagined from this world into the
infinite."

"Then it is a very different thing from the Benedictine service of nuns
in the Rue Monsieur in Paris?"

"No comparison is possible. Without wishing to reflect on the musical
sincerity of those good Sisters, who sing quite suitably but humanly, as
women, it may be asserted that they have neither such knowledge, nor
such soul-felt aspiration, nor such voices. As a monk remarked, 'when
you hav