But this is a serious error. I repeat here: that expression which is a characteristic of the modern organ can but be subjective; it is born of mechanical means and possesses nothing of spontaneity. While the stringed and wind instruments of the orchestra, the pianoforte, and the voice, hold sway only by their instantaneity of accent, by the unexpectedness of their attack, the organ, limited to the confines of its own inherent majesty, speaks with the voice of philosophy. Of all instruments, it is the only one which can indefinitely prolong the same volume of sound, and thus create the religious impression of the infinite. A serious organist will never avail himself of these means of expression, unless _architecturally_; that is to say, by _straight lines_ and by _designs_. By _lines_, when he passes slowly from _piano_ into _forte_, by a gradient almost imperceptible, and in constant progression, without break or jolt. By _designs_, when he takes advantage of a second of silence to close the swell-box abruptly between a _forte_ and a _piano_. Seek to reproduce the expressive quality of an E-string, or of the human voice, and we shall no longer hear an organ; it will have become an accordeon. The most striking characteristic of the organ is grandeur; that is to say, determination and power. Every illogical variation in the intensity of the sound, every nuance which, graphically, cannot be represented by a right line, is a crime, the offence of artistic _lèse-majesté_. In fact, we should declare to be criminals, and hold up to the contempt of the public, those who make an accordeon of the organ; those who arpeggiate, who do not play legato, whose rhythm is but passable.