n black
with a white veil, came from behind the altar, and began to descend the
nave; the four first carrying a Virgin and child upon a table. The
priests and choristers arose from their knees and followed after,
singing "Ave Mary" as they went. In this order they made the circuit of
the cathedral, passing twice before me where I leaned against a pillar.
The priest who seemed of most consequence was a strange, down-looking
old man. He kept mumbling prayers with his lips; but as he looked upon
me darkling, it did not seem as if prayer were uppermost in his heart.
Two others, who bore the burthen of the chant, were stout, brutal,
military-looking men of forty, with bold, over-fed eyes; they sang with
some lustiness, and trolled forth "Ave Mary" like a garrison catch. The
little girls were timid and grave. As they footed slowly up the aisle,
each one took a moment's glance at the Englishman; and the big nun who
played marshal fairly stared him out of countenance. As for the
choristers, from first to last they misbehaved as only boys can
misbehave; and cruelly marred the performance with their antics.

I understood a great deal of the spirit of what went on. Indeed it would
be difficult not to understand the _Miserere_, which I take to be the
composition of an atheist. If it ever be a good thing to take such
despondency to heart, the _Miserere_ is the right music, and a cathedral
a fit scene. So far I am at one with the Catholics:--an odd name for
them, after all? But why, in God's name, these holiday choristers? why
these priests who steal wandering looks about the congregation while
they feign to be at prayer? why this fat nun, who rudely arranges her
procession and shakes delinquent virgins by the elbow? why this
spitting, and snuffing, and forgetting of keys, and the thousand and one
little misadventures that disturb a frame of mind laboriously edified
with chants and organings? In any playhouse reverend fathers may see
what can be done with a little art, and how, to move high sentiments, it
is necessary to drill the supernumeraries and have every stool in its
proper place.

One other circumstance distressed me. I could bear a _Miserere_ myself,
having had a good deal of open-air exercise of late; but I wished the
old people somewhere else. It was neither the right sort of music nor
the right sort of divinity for men and women who have come through most
accidents by this time, and probably have an opinion of their own