If, despite his magnificent rendering of them,
Delsarte never called legendary fictions in question, let us not refuse
him that privilege. In such cases the poetry became his accomplice,
and--"Every poet is the toy of the gods," as Beranger says, a simple
song-writer, as Delsarte was a simple singer.
There was in him whom Kreutzer called "the apostle of the grand dramatic
style," a desire, I will not say for realism, but for _realization_, for
action. Thus he once had a fancy to join the semi-clerical society of
the third order; it was a way of keeping himself in practice, since
there were various prescriptions, observances and interdictions attached
to the office. One must repeat certain prayers every day, and submit to
a certain severity of costume. No precious metal, not even a thread of
gold or silver must be seen about one. In the first moments of fervor, a
beautiful green velvet cap, beautifully embroidered in gold--the loving
gift of some pupil or admirer,--was interdicted, that is to say, was
shut up in a closet or reduced to the condition of a mere piece of
bric-a-brac. Luckily, the association did not require eternal vows, and
I think I saw the pretty article restored to its proper use later on.
Another attempt--and this was his own creation--tempted this inquiring
mind; he wished to pay especial homage, under some novel form, to the
Holy Trinity. The adepts were to be called _the Trinitarians_.
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