In the service that followed we could hear the Pope's voice distinctly when he intoned the Gloria, and we were near enough to the altar to see him give the cardinals the kiss of peace and celebrate the mass.
The Gregorian chants, which Pius X. so much desires to restore to the services of the Catholic Church, do not seem to be popular, especially among musicians; but in this spacious basilica they sounded grand and beautiful as they swelled forth and rose and fell through its lofty arches. Suddenly from Michael Angelo's great dome overhead there issued the exultant strains of the silver trumpets, filling the church with their sweet, penetrating music; the long line of soldiers from the Chair of St. Peter to the eastern door bent the knee, lowering their arms upon the stone pavement with a ringing sound, the mighty congregation bowed or knelt, and we knew that the supreme moment had come for the elevation of the Host upon the high altar. Then there was a solemn stillness, in which one could hear a pin drop, followed by the stir of the rising of the vast audience, like nothing that I can think of save the rustling of the leaves of a forest swept over by an autumn storm.
There was a great deal of antiphonal singing in the service, in which the Holy Father took part; his beautiful voice rang through the church when he chanted the liturgical prayers and the responses in the "Exultate Justi" and the "Filii Jerusalem." The choruses were glorious, about twelve hundred voices, pupils from the seminaries and colleges and from the Schola Cantorum taking part.
After the Pope had given the apostolic benediction and granted plenary indulgence to the faithful, which formula was read by the Cardinal Bishop in a loud voice, he again ascended the gestatorial chair and was borne from the church as he had entered it, slowly, giving the blessing to right and left, amid a subdued murmur, which he himself prevented from rising to applause by placing his finger upon his lip in very decided disapproval. He could not, however, prevent the waving of handkerchiefs and other mute signs of delight. The Holy Father looked much more cheerful on his journey back to the Vatican, as if greatly relieved that the ordeal was nearly over. All eyes eagerly followed the receding figure until the canopied chair passed out of sight behind the heavy damask curtains of the Chapel of the Pietà.
There was stillness for a moment, and then the voices, long silenced, broke forth in exclamations of interest and pleasure and in salutations to friends. All the English and Americans in Rome seemed to be in St. Peter's to-day, and many distinguished Catholics from different parts of the world. A number of persons came forward to speak to the Pope's sisters, who seemed to be holding quite a reception as we passed by them on our way to the doors.
It was good to be in the open again, in the sparkling air and under the shining sun, which is not too hot, only genial and kindly in its warmth in these early April days.
Angela was telling Ludovico how much she had enjoyed the solemn yet brilliant spectacle, and asking him rapid, eager questions about this official and that—questions that Ludovico was only too glad to answer, while he drew her to the other side of the piazza where a German grand duchess and two lesser duchesses were stepping into their coaches. We also had the honor of seeing the Earl and Countess of Denbigh enter their carriage.
"It has all been perfectly delightful; I shall never forget it!" exclaimed Angela, and then turning to me with frankest inconsequence, she said, "Pray let us do something quite different this afternoon!"
Ludovico fortunately did not hear her aside; but Dr. M. did, and, with his ready sense of humor, was vastly entertained, and will never cease to tease Angela about the effect upon her mind of a solemn service in the greatest cathedral in the world.