s by the Rhine to Frankfurt. What a charming journey!
I must travel very slowly, however, and probably rest for half a day,
now and then. I shall gain a good fortnight thus; and by the end of
June I hope to be in your arms.' At this time he was still resolved to
keep his promise of conducting at Miss Paton's concert. But he came
home in a state of such feverish agitation and complete exhaustion that
his friends came around him, and wrung from him the promise that he
would conduct no more, and even give up his own benefit. This
resolution, strange to say, appeared to bestow fresh spirits on him; it
enabled him to hasten his return. Now that all last earthly interests
were laid aside, love and affection for the dear ones at home had alone
possession of his mind. One thought alone occupied his whole soul,--to
be at home again, amongst his own--to see them, if but once--but once!
With this feeling, in which gleamed one last ray of cheerfulness, he
wrote: 'How will you receive me? In heaven's name, alone. Let no one
disturb my joy of looking again upon my wife, my children, my dearest
and my best. . . . Thank God! the end of all is fast
approaching.' . . . The end of all _was_ fast approaching. On the 1st
of June, every painful symptom of the poor sufferer had so increased
that his friends held counsel with Doctor Kind, who considered his
state highly precarious. Fuerstenau was desirous of watching by his
bedside. 'No, no,' replied Weber, 'I am not so ill as you want to make
me out.' He refused even the attendance of Sir George Smart's servant
in his anteroom. Blisters were applied to his chest, and he noted in
his diary, 'Thank God, my sleep was sweet!' He fixed his departure for
the 6th, arranged all his pecuniary affairs with minuteness, and
employed his friends in purchasing presents for his family and friends
in Dresden. He was strongly urged by his friends to postpone his
journey until he could have recovered some degree of strength. But
this solicitation only irritated him. 'I must go back to my own--I
must!' he sobbed, incessantly. 'Let me see them once more--and then
God's will be done!' The attempt appeared impossible to all. With
great unwillingness he yielded to his friends' request to have a
consultation of physicians. 'Be it so!' he answered. 'But come of it
what may, I go!' His only thought, his only word, was 'Home!' On the
2d of June he wrote his last letter to his beloved wife,--the