Hegel says:  “The identical and the non-identical are identical;” and this proposition passes for nonsense.  Perhaps if he had said:  “May become identical,” it would be understood that he meant to speak, in general, of that reconciliation of contraries which united the calm genius of Delsarte and the bristling, prickly spirit of Raymond Brucker.

One motive particularly contributed to the union; Brucker was unfortunate in a worldly sense.  Delsarte, improvident for the future and scorning money, still had, during the best years of his professorship, a relatively comfortable home.  He loved to have his friend take advantage of it.  Large rooms, well warmed in winter, a simple table, but one which lacked no essential article, were of no small importance to one whose scanty household had naught but sorrow and privation to offer.

How many evenings they spent together in dissertations which often ended in nothing—­and how often the dawn surprised them before they were weary!

For Brucker it was a refuge, but for Delsarte, what a waste of time and strength taken from his real work!  That wasted time might have sufficed to fix and produce certain special points in his method.  Then, too, his health demanded greater care.

Take it for all in all, this intimacy was perhaps more harmful than helpful to Delsarte.  Yet I have been told that Raymond Brucker urged the innovator to elaborate his discovery, and often reproached him with his negligence in pecuniary matters.  It was he who said:  “Francois Delsarte’s system is an orthopedic machine to straighten crippled intellects.”

I have also heard in favor of Raymond Brucker, that that mind so full of bitterness, that inquisitor in partibus, was most tender toward a child in his family, and that he bore his poverty bravely.  I desire to note these eulogies side by side with the less favorable reflections which I considered it my duty to write down here.  I recall a short anecdote which will serve to close the Brucker story.

As we have said, they were seldom parted.  One day Delsarte had agreed to dine with the family of a pupil.  As he was on his way thither, he met his inseparable friend.  From that moment his only thought was to excuse himself from the dinner; but his hosts were reluctant to give up such a guest; they insisted”—­they were offended.

“Pardon me,” said Delsarte; “I really cannot stay!  I had forgotten that Brucker was to dine with me.”

“But that can be arranged!  M. Brucker can join us.  Suppose we send and ask him?”

“You need not,” replied the master; “if you are willing, I will call him; he is waiting for me below at the corner.”

They had acted as children do, when one says to the other on leaving school: 

“Wait a minute for me, I’ll ask mamma if you can come and dine with us.”

Brucker, who after all knew how to be agreeable when he chose, took his place at the table, and all went well.