racteristic had prevented his hearing as much
music as he would have wished. The presence of a crowd, the heat and
glare of concert-rooms, the uncomfortable proximity of unsympathetic or
possibly even loquacious persons, combined with a dislike of fixed
engagements outside of the pressure of official hours of work, had kept
him, very foolishly, from musical performances. Thus almost the only
music with which he had a solid acquaintance was ecclesiastical music;
he had been accustomed as a boy to frequent the cathedral services in
the town where he was at school; and in London he constantly went on
Sundays to St. Paul's or Westminster. It was no doubt the stately
_mise-en-scene_ of these splendid buildings that affected Hugh as much
even as the music itself, though the music was like the soul's voice
speaking gently from beautiful lips. Hugh always, if he could,
approached St. Paul's by a narrow lane among tall houses, that came out
opposite the north transept. At a certain place the grey dome became
visible, strangely foreshortened, like a bleak mountain-head, and then
there appeared, framed by the house-fronts, the sculptured figure of
the ancient lawgiver, with a gesture at once vehement and dignified,
that crowned the top of the pediment. Then followed the hush of the
mighty church, the dumb falling of many foot-falls upon the floor, the
great space of the dome, in which the mist seemed to float, the liberal
curves, the firm proportions of arch and pillar; the fallen daylight
seemed to swim and filter down, stained with the tincture of dim hues;
the sounds of the busy city came faintly there, a rich murmur of life;
then the soft hum of the solemn bell was heard, in its vaulted cupola;
and then the organ awoke, climbing from the depth of the bourdon; the
movement of priestly figures, the sweet order of the scene, the sense
of high solemnity, made a shrine for the holy spirit of beauty to utter
its silvery voice. In Westminster it was different; the richer
darkness, the soaring arches, the closer span, the incredible treasure
of association and memory made it a more mysterious place, but the
sound lacked the smothered remoteness that gave such a strange,
repressed economy to the music of St. Paul's. At Westminster it was
more cheerful, more tangible, more material. But the tranquillising,
the inspiring effect upon the spirit was the same. Perhaps it was not
technical religion of which Hugh was in search. But i