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 with her neighbour at the table in the middle of a long harangue of Spontini's, he shot an extremely angry glance at his wife. Madame Devrient apologised for her at once by saying that it was she (Madame Devrient) who had been laughing about some lines on a bonbonniere, whereupon Spontini retorted: 'Pourtant je suis sur quo c'est ma femme qui a suscite ce rire; je ne veux pas que l'on rie devant moi, je ne rie jamais moi, j'aime le serieux.' In spite of that he sometimes succeeded in being jovial. For instance, it amused him to set us all wondering at the way in which he crunched enormous lumps of sugar with his marvellous teeth. After dinner, when we drew our chairs closer together, he usually became very excited.
As far as he was capable of affection he seemed really to like me; he declared openly that he loved me, and said that he would prove this best by trying to keep me from the misfortune of proceeding in my career as a dramatic composer. He said he knew it would be difficult to convince me of the value of this friendly service, but as he felt it his sacred duty to look after my happiness in this particular line, he was prepared to stay in Dresden for another half-year, during which period he suggested that we should produce his other operas, and especially Agnes von Hohenstaufen, under his direction. To explain his views about the fatal mistake of trying to succeed as a dramatic composer 'after Spontini,' he began by praising me in these terms: 'Quand j'ai entendu votre Rienzi, j'ai dit, c'est un homme de genie, mais deja il a plus fait qu'il ne peut faire.' In order to show me what he meant by this paradox, he proceeded as follows: 'Apres Gluck c'est moi qui ai fait la grande revolution avec la Vestale; j'ai introduit le Vorhalt de la sexte' (the suspension of the sixth) 'dans l'harmonie et la grosse caisse dans l'orchestre; avec Cortez j'ai fait un pas de plus en avant; puis j'ai fait trois pas avec Olympic. Nurmahal, Alcidor et tout ce que j'ai fait dans les premiers temps a Berlin, je vous les livre, c'etaient des ceitvres occasionnelles; mais depuis j'ai fait cent pas en avant avec Agnes de Hohenstaufen, ou j'ai imagine un emploi de l'orchestre remplacant parfaitement l'orgue.'
Since then he had tried his hand at a new work, Les Atheniennes; the Crown Prince (now King of Prussia [Footnote: William the First.]) had urged him to finish this work, and to testify to the truth of his words, he took several letters which he had received from this monarch out of his pocket-book, and handed them to us for inspection. Not until he had insisted upon our reading them carefully through did he continue by saying that, in spite of this flattering invitation, he had given up the idea of setting this excellent subject to music, because he felt sure he could never surpass his Agnes von Hohenstaufen, nor invent anything new. In conclusion he said: 'Or, comment voulez-vous que quiconque puisse inventer quelque chose de nouveau, moi Spontini declarant ne pouvoir en aucune facon surpasser mes oeuvres precedentes, d'autre part etant avise que depuis la Vestale il n'a point ete ecrit une note qui ne fut volee de mes partitions.'
To prove that this assertion was not merely talk, but that it was based on scientific investigations, he quoted his wife, who was supposed to have read with him an elaborate discussion on the subject by a celebrated member of the French academy, and he added that the essay in question had, for some mysterious reason, never been printed. In this very important and scientific treatise it was proved that without Spontini's invention of the suspension of the sixth in his Vestalin, the whole of modern melody would not have existed, and that any and every form of melody that had been used since had been borrowed from his compositions. I was thunderstruck, but hoped all the same to bring the inexorable master to a better frame of mind, especially in regard to certain reservations he had made. I acknowledged that the academician in question was right in many ways, but I asked him if he did not believe that if somebody brought him a dramatic poem full of an absolutely new and hitherto unknown spirit, it would not inspire him to invent new musical combinations? With a ring of compassion in his voice, he replied that my question was wholly mistaken; in what would the novelty consist? 'Dans la Vestale j'ai compose un sujet romain, dans Ferdinand Cortez un sujet espagnol-mexicain, dans Olympic un sujet greco-macedonien, enfin dans Agnes de Hohenstaufen un sujet allemand: tout le reste ne vaut rien!' He hoped that I was not thinking of the so-called romantic style a la Freischutz? With such childish stuff no serious man could have anything to do; for art was a serious thing, and he had exhausted serious art! And, after all, what nation could produce the composer who could surpass HIM? Surely not the Italians, whom he characterised simply as cochons; certainly not the French, who had only imitated the Italians; nor the Germans, who would never get beyond their childhood in music, and who, if they had ever possessed any talent, had had it all spoilt for them by the Jews? 'Oh, croyez-moi, il y avait de l'espoir pour l'Allemagne lorsque j'etais empereur de la musique a Berlin; mais depuis que le roi de Prusse a livre sa musique au desordre occasionne par les deux juifs errants qu'il a attires, tout espoir est perdu.'