But what any and every mind may appreciate, is the lovable, loving and generous nature which invested these transcendant qualities with simplicity, with charm and with life.  Delsarte had a wealth of sentiment which overflowed upon the humble and the outcast, as well as upon those favored by nature and by fortune.  Without the riches which he knew not how to gain, disdainful as he was of petty and sinuous ways, he was benevolent in spite of his moderate means.

He gave, perhaps, oftener than he accepted payment for them, his time, his knowledge and his advice to all who needed them.  He admitted to his classes pupils whose beautiful voices were their only wealth, and who could pay him only in hope.

We may say of Francois Delsarte, that so sympathetic a nature is rarely seen in this world of ours, where still prevail—­tyrants to be destroyed—­so much antagonism, jealousy and rivalry.  If some few of the weaknesses natural to poor humanity may be laid to his charge, no one had a greater right to redemption than he.

He once distressed a fashionable woman by speaking severely to her of one of her friends.  She was much troubled, but out of respect, dared not complain.  Delsarte saw tears in her eyes.  He instantly confessed his fault, and acknowledged, with the utmost frankness, that he spoke from hearsay, and very lightly.  He added that this mistake should be a lesson to him, and that he would think twice before becoming the echo of evil report.

If, touching his science and his art, this master often made assertions which might seem conceited, aside from those convictions which, to his mind, had the character of orthodoxy, he used forms of speech of which judges without authority would never have dreamed.  I have heard him say: 

“I cannot be much of a connoisseur in regard to pianists, for I only like to hear Chopin.”

He was always ready to praise the amateurs who came to him for a hearing, even if they were the pupils of other masters, finding out among all their faults, the little acquirements or talent which he could from their performance; sure, it is true, to correct them if he afterward became their instructor.

Honors and fortune seemed within his grasp when he neared his end.  America offered him immense advantages, with a yearly salary of $20,000, to found a conservatory in one of her cities.  A street in Solesmes was named for him.  The King of Hanover sent him, as an artist, the Guelph Cross, and, as a friend, a photograph of himself and family; it was to this prince, the patron of art, that Delsarte wrote regarding his “Episodes of a Revelator:” 

“I am at this moment meditating a book singular for more than one reason, which will be no less novel in form than in idea....  I know not what fate is in store for this work, or if I shall succeed in seeing it in print during my lifetime.”

He did not realize this dream.

It was at about this same time that Jenny Lind took a long journey to hear him and to consult him about her art.