did not prove a great success, a deep disappointment to Spohr, who
fondly believed this work to be his masterpiece. "On this occasion,"
writes a very competent critic, _a propos_ of the first performance,
"there was a certain amount of heaviness about the performance which
told very much against the probability of that opera ever becoming
a favorite with the Royal Italian Opera subscribers. Nothing could
possibly exceed the poetical grace of Eonconi in the title role, or
surpass the propriety and expression of his singing. Mme. Castellan's
_Cunegonda_ was also exceedingly well sung, and Tamberlik outdid himself
by his thorough comprehension of the music, the splendor of his voice,
and the refinement of his vocalization in the character of _Ugo_....
The _Mephistopheles_ of Herr Formes was a remarkable personation, being
truly demoniacal in the play of his countenance, and as characteristic
as any one of Retsch's drawings of Goethe's fiend-tempter. His singing
being specially German was in every way well suited to the occasion." In
spite of the excellence of the interpretation, Spohr's "Faust" did not
take any hold on the lovers of music in England, and even in Germany,
where Spohr is held in great reverence, it presents but little
attraction. The closing years of Spohr's active life as a musician were
devoted to that species of composition where he showed indubitable
title to be considered a man of genius, works for the violin and chamber
music. He himself did not recognize his decadence of energy and musical
vigor; but the veteran was more than seventy years old, and his royal
master resolved to put his baton in younger and fresher hands. So he was
retired from service with an annual pension of fifteen hundred thalers.
Spohr felt this deeply, but he had scarcely reconciled himself to the
change when a more serious casualty befell him. He fell and broke his
left arm, which never gained enough strength for him to hold the beloved
instrument again. It had been the great joy and solace of his life to
play, and, now that in his old age he was deprived of this comfort, he
was ready to die. Only once more did he make a public appearance. In the
spring of 1859 he journeyed to Meiningen to direct a concert on behalf
of a charitable fund. An ovation was given to the aged master. A
colossal bust of himself was placed on the stage, arched with festoons
of palm and laurel, and the conductor's stand was almost buried in
flowers. He wa