is, in the words of the Bible, no motive at all for this monotonous formula. Everything there is fresh and true, and the expression always as good and natural as it can be; why, then, should it be made to sound so formal? And really, there is nothing in such a style of music. How can one give the name of church-music to that “Pater” with the little flourish, the “Meum” with a quaver, the “ut quid me?” To be sure, there is no false expression in it, for there is no expression at all; but is that not just the utter desecration of the words? A hundred times during the ceremony I felt furious; and when people came to me quite in ecstasy about the beauty of it all, it seemed to me like a bad joke, and yet they were quite in earnest!
At early Mass on Good Friday the chapel was stripped of all ornament, the altar bare, the pope and cardinals in mourning. The “Passio secundum Johannem,” a composition by Vittoria, was now sung. But only the words of the chorus of the people are really his; the rest was arranged in a way which I will describe later. From time to time I felt keenly how petty and constrained it was. I became deeply irritated, and indeed the entire work quite failed to please me. Really, there are only two methods possible; either the Passion must be calmly laid before us as a narrative by the priest, as in the record of St. John, and in that case there is no need of any choir to strike in, “Crucifige eum,” or of an alto to represent Pilate. Or else, the Passion itself must be made present to me, so that I may feel myself a witness of
