Carl Maria von Weber was born Dec. 18, 1786, at Eutin, and may almost be said to have been born on the stage, as his father was at the head of a theatrical company, and the young Carl was carried in the train of the wandering troupe all over Germany. His first lessons were given to him by Henschkel, conductor of the orchestra of Duke Friedrich of Meiningen. At the age of fourteen he wrote his first opera, "Das Waldmaedchen," which was performed several times during the year 1800. In 1801 appeared his two-act comic opera, "Peter Schmoll and his Neighbors," and during these two years he also frequently played in concerts with great success. He then studied with the Abbe Vogler, and in his eighteenth year was engaged for the conductorship of the Breslau opera. About this time appeared his first important opera, "Rubezahl." At the conclusion of his studies with Vogler he was made director of the Opera at Prague. In 1814 he wrote a cantata, "The Lyre and Sword," for a festive occasion, and it was greeted with the wildest enthusiasm. In 1816 he went to Berlin, where he was received with the highest marks of popular esteem, and thence to Dresden as Hofcapellmeister. This was the most brilliant period in his career. It was during this time that he married Caroline Brandt, the actress and singer, who had had a marked influence upon his musical progress, and to whom he dedicated his exquisite "Invitation to the Dance." The first great work of his life, "Der Freischuetz," was written at this period. Three other important operas followed,--"Preciosa," "Euryanthe," the first performance of which took place in Vienna in 1823, and "Oberon," which he finished in London and brought out there. Weber's last days were spent in the latter city; and it was while making preparations to return to Germany, which he longed to see again, that he was stricken down with his final illness. On the 4th of June, 1826, he was visited by Sir George Smart, Moscheles, and other musicians who were eager to show him attention. He declined to have any one watch by his bedside, thanked them for their kindness, bade them good-by, and then turned to his friend Fuerstenau and said, "Now let me sleep." These were his last words. The next morning he was found dead in his bed. He has left a rich legacy of works besides his operas,--a large collection of songs, many cantatas (of which "The Jubilee," with its brilliant overture, is the finest), some masses, of which that in E flat is the most beautiful, and several concertos, besides many brilliant rondos, polaccas, and marches for the piano.
