Therefore, I must distinguish.

First, there were those, brought by Delsarte’s generosity, whose only resource was a vocation more or less favored by natural gifts.  He would say:  “Come one, come all.”  But, of course, many were called, and few were chosen, the majority only making a passing visit.

Then there were the finished artists.  They took private lessons, coming to beg the master to put the finishing touch to their work, hoping to gain from him something of that spiritual flame which consecrates talent.  I shall not undertake to speak of all, but I must quote a few names.

One winter day, says La Patrie for June 18, 1857, a woman, beautiful and still young, visited Delsarte, begging him to initiate her into the mysteries of Gluck’s style: 

“You are the greatest known singer,” she said; “no one can enter into the work of the great masters and seize their most secret thought as you do; teach me!”

“Who are you?” asked Francois Delsarte.

“Henrietta Sontag,” replied the stranger.

Madame Barbot had a moment of great triumph, and was summoned to Russia at the period of her success in Paris.  She was perhaps the master’s best imitator; she had somewhat of his tragic emotion, his style, his gesture; then what did she lack to equal him?  She lacked that absolute sine qua non of art and poetry—­personality.  She added little of her own.

Even among those who could neither hear his lectures nor follow his lessons, Delsarte had disciples.  A great singing-teacher, whom I knew at Florence, was eager to learn everything concerning the method.  I often heard him ask a certain young girl, as he read a score:  “You were Delsarte’s pupil; tell me if he would have read this as I have done?”

Even the famous Jenny Lind made the journey from London to Paris, expressly to hear the great singer.

At his lectures were seen from time to time:  M. and Mme. Amand Cheve, Mlle. Chaudesaigues, M. Mario Uchard—­who, after his marriage, asked for elocution lessons for his wife (Madeleine Brohan),—­Mlle. Rosalie Jacob, whose brilliant vocalization never won the renown which it deserved, Mme. Carvalho, who was not one of the regular attendants, but who trained her rare talent as a light singer, there, before the very eyes of her fellow pupils,—­Geraldon, who was very successful in Italy, under the name of Geraldoni.

Then, there was Mme. de B——­, who appeared at the opera under the name of Betty; a beauty with a fine voice.  This artist did not perfect her talents, being in haste to join the theatre in Rue Lepelletier, under the shield of another master.  Although well received by the public, she soon gave up the profession.

A memory haunts me, and I cannot deny it a few lines.