t only a few unimportant compositions for the organ. I might also
name some of my contemporaries who express themselves completely only
through their improvisations. The organ is thought-provoking. As one
touches the organ, the imagination is awakened, and the unforeseen rises
from the depths of the unconscious. It is a world of its own, ever new,
which will never be seen again, and which comes out of the darkness, as
an enchanted island comes from the sea.

Instead of this fairyland, we too often see only some of Sebastian
Bach's or Mendelssohn's pieces repeated continuously. The pieces
themselves are very fine, but they belong to concerts and are entirely
out of place in church services. Furthermore, they were written for old
instruments and they apply either not at all, or badly, to the modern
organ. Yet there are those who think this belief spells progress.

I am fully aware of what may be said against improvisation. There are
players who improvise badly and their playing is uninteresting. But many
preachers speak badly. That, however, has nothing to do with the real
issue. A mediocre improvisation is always endurable, if the organist has
grasped the idea that church music should harmonize with the service and
aid meditation and prayer. If the organ music is played in this spirit
and results in harmonious sounds rather than in precise music which is
not worth writing out, it still is comparable with the old glass
windows in which the individual figures can hardly be distinguished but
which are, nevertheless, more charming than the finest modern windows.
Such an improvisation may be better than a fugue by a great master, on
the principle that nothing in art is good unless it is in its proper
place.

[Illustration: The Madeleine where M. Saint-Saens played the organ for
twenty years]

During the twenty years I played the organ at the Madeleine, I
improvised constantly, giving my fancy the widest range. That was one of
the joys of life.

But there was a tradition that I was a severe, austere musician. The
public was led to believe that I played nothing but fugues. So current
was this belief that a young woman about to be married begged me to play
no fugues at her wedding!

Another young woman asked me to play funeral marches. She wanted to cry
at her wedding, and as she had no natural inclination to do so, she
counted on the organ to bring tears to her eyes.

But this case was unique. Ordinarily, they were afra