in the short time they were disposed to allow him, were expecting impossibilities, particularly as the first step towards its composition, on Weber’s part, was the study of the English language itself, the right understanding of which, Weber justly considered as preliminary to any attempt to marry Mr. Planche’s ephemeral verses to his own immortal music.  These exertions increased his weakness so much, that he found it necessary to resort to a watering-place in the summer of 1825.  In December he returned to Berlin, to bring out his Euryanthe there in person.  It was received, as might have been anticipated, with great applause, though less enthusiastically than the Freyschuetz, the wild and characteristic music of which, came home with more intensity to the national mind.  After being present at two representations, he returned to his labours at Oberon.

The work, finally, having been completed, Weber determined himself to be present at the representation of this his last production.  He hoped, by his visit to London, to realize something for his wife and family; for hitherto, on the whole, poverty had been his companion.  Want had, indeed, by unceasing exertion, been kept aloof, but still hovering near him, and threatening with the decline of his health, and his consequent inability to discharge his duties, a nearer and a nearer approach.  Already he felt the conviction that his death was not far off, and that his wife and children would soon be deprived of that support which his efforts had hitherto afforded them.  His intention was to return from London by Paris, where he expected to form a definitive arrangement relative to an opera which the Parisians had long requested from him.

On the 2nd of March he left Paris for England, which he reached on the 4th amidst a heavy shower of rain—­a gloomy opening to his visit.  The first incident, however, that happened after his arrival, showed how highly his character and talents were appreciated.  Instead of requiring to present himself as an alien at the Passport Office, he was immediately waited upon by the officer with the necessary papers, and requested to think of nothing but his own health, as everything would be managed for him.  On the 6th he writes to his wife from London: 

“God be thanked! here I sit, well and hearty, already quite at home, and perfectly happy in the receipt of your dear letter, which assures me that you and the children are well; what more or what better could I wish for?  After sleeping well and paying well at Dover, we set out yesterday morning in the Express coach, a noble carriage, drawn by four English horses, such as no prince need be ashamed of.  With four persons within, four in front, and four behind, we dashed on with the rapidity of lightning, through this inexpressibly beautiful country:  meadows of the loveliest green, gardens blooming with flowers, and every building displaying a neatness and elegance which form a striking contrast to the dirt of France.  The majestic river, covered with ships of all sizes (among others, the largest ship of the line, of 148 guns), the graceful country houses, altogether made the journey perfectly unique.”