But if Delsarte appeared depressed, he was not to be conquered. His
restless spirit betrayed him to those whom his mystic fervor might have
misled.
"Many persons," he said, "feel confident that they are to hear me recite
or sing.
"Nothing of the sort, gentlemen; I shall not recite, and I shall not
sing, because I desire less to show you what I can do, than to tell you
what I know."
Soon a wonderful change passed over him. It seemed as if he had been
covered with ashes for an instant, only to come forth in a more dazzling
light. Hardly had his audience felt a slight sense of revolt at the
words: "I shall not sing," than they found themselves in the presence of
an orator not inferior to the greatest in the force of his images, and
who, with all his serious and pathetic eloquence, never forgot the
studied touches of the poet, or the dainty style of the artist.
But I will not delay my reader to listen to me! It is Delsarte himself
who should be heard. I will give a few extracts:
"I count," he said, "on the novelty, the absolute novelty, of the
things which I shall teach you: Art is the subject of this conversation.
"Art is divine in its principle, divine in its essence, divine in its
action, divine in its aim.
"Ah! gentlemen, there are no pleasures at once more lasting, more noble
and more sacred than those of Art.
"Let us glance around us: not a pleasure which is not followed by
disappointment or satiety; not a joy which does not entail some trouble;
not an affection which does not conceal some bitterness, some grief, and
often some remorse!
"Everything is disappointing to man.
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