for it was as if two different worlds that meet, and yet are divided, were suddenly illumined and revealed as by a flash.  Thoroughly to understand such a moment, and not to treat it wrongly, was the whole secret, and this I fully realised on that day from the absolute failure on the great singer’s part to produce the right effect.  The toneless, hoarse way in which she uttered the words was like throwing cold water over the audience and myself, and not one of those present could see any more in the incident than a botched theatrical effect.  It is possible that the public had expected too much, for they were curious to see Spontini conduct, and the prices had been raised accordingly; it may also have been that the whole style of the work, with its antiquated French plot, seemed rather obsolete in spite of the majestic beauty, of the music; or, perhaps, the very tame end left the same cold impression as Devrient’s dramatic failure.  In any case there was no real enthusiasm, and the only sign of approval was a rather lukewarm call for the celebrated master, who, covered with numerous decorations, made a sad impression on me as he bowed his thanks to the audience for their very moderate applause.

Nobody was less blind to the somewhat disappointing result than Spontini himself.  He decided, however, to defy fate, and to this end had recourse to means which he had often employed in Berlin, in order to get packed houses for his operatic productions.  Thus, he always gave Sunday performances, for experience had taught him that he could always have a full house on that day.  As the next Sunday on which his Vestalin was to be produced was still some time ahead, his prolonged stay gave us several more chances of enjoying his interesting company.  I have such a vivid recollection of the hours spent with him either at Madame Devrient’s or at my house, that I shall be pleased to quote a few reminiscences.

I shall never forget a dinner at Schroder-Devrient’s house at which we had a charming conversation with Spontini and his wife (a sister of the celebrated pianoforte maker, Erard).  Spontini generally listened deferentially to what the others had to say, his attitude being that of a man who expected to be asked for his opinion.  When he did speak in the end it was with a sort of rhetorical solemnity, in sharp and precise sentences, categorical and well accentuated, which forbade contradiction from the outset.  Herr Ferdinand Hiller was among the invited guests, and he began to speak about Liszt.  After some time Spontini gave his opinion in his characteristic fashion, but in a spirit which showed only too clearly, that from the heights of his Berlin throne he had not judged the affairs of the world either with impartiality or goodwill.  While he was laying down the law in this style he could not brook any interruption.  When, therefore, during the dessert, the general conversation became livelier, and Madame Devrient happened to laugh