by L. Mühlbach
CHAPTER XLII.
NAPOLEON AND GOETHE.
On his return from the early visit he had paid to the Emperor of Russia,Napoleon immediately went to his cabinet and sent for MinisterChampagny, whom he met with unusual animation; and now, that he deemedit no longer necessary to mask his countenance, it was beaming with joy."Champagny," he said, "it will be no longer necessary for you to sendletters to me. The emperor Alexander has accepted my offers, andRomanzoff will have to hang up his 'cat's tongue' in the smoke-house.For the present the appetite of the Russian Emperor for new territorieshas been satisfied with the provinces of the Danube, and he will compelhis minister to yield. The stubborn old fellow will have to give way,but, we are obliged to give him our promises in black and white. I gothis afternoon with the emperor to Weimar to spend a few days. You mayin the mean time carry on the negotiations with Romanzoff and draw upthe treaty. I shall send you further instructions to-night."
"And will not your majesty be kind enough to give me also instructionsas to the course I am to pursue toward the Austrian ambassador, CountVincent?" said the minister. "He overwhelms me every day with questionsand demands. He is very anxious to obtain an interview with yourmajesty, to learn from your own lips that Austria has nothing to fearfrom France, and that your majesty believes in the sincerity of thefriendship and devotedness of his master."
"I believe in the sincerity of Austria!" exclaimed Napoleon, frowning."I know her perfidy; I know that she is secretly arming to attack me assoon as she believes me to be embarrassed by the events in Spain. But Iwill unmask these hypocrites, and meet them with open visor. I will wagewar against them, because they disdain to remain at peace with me. Nowthat I am sure of Russia, I am no longer afraid of Austria, for Russiawill assist me in the war against her, or at least not prevent me fromattacking and punishing her for her insolence. It was in my power tooverthrow that monarchy as I have overthrown those of Naples and Spain.I refrained, and Austria is indebted to me for her existence. Now,however, I am inexorable, and when I once more make my entry intoVienna, it will be as dictator prescribing laws to the vanquished.Austria is arming, and France will arm for another Austerlitz. Iauthorize you to repeat these words to Count Vincent. I myself willwrite to his emperor and intrust my letter to the ambassador. Tell himso." He dismissed the minister and repaired to the dining-room.
Breakfast was ready, and had been served on a round table in the middleof the room. Talleyrand, Berthier, Savary, and Daru, received theemperor, and accompanied him to the table, not to participate in therepast, but to converse with him, as Napoleon liked to do while he waseating, and to reply to the questions which he addressed now to one, nowto another.
"Well, Daru," he asked, taking his seat, "you come from Berlin? Whatabout the payment of the contributions?"
"Ah, sire, the prospects are very discouraging," said Daru, shrugginghis shoulders. "More rigorous measures will probably become necessary tocoerce those stubborn Prussians, and--"
The door opened, and Constant, the _valet de chambre_, entered,whispering a few words to Marshal Berthier.
The marshal approached the emperor, who was engaged with the wing of achicken. "Sire," he said, "your majesty ordered M. von Goethe to appearbefore you at this hour. He is in the anteroom."
"Ah, M. von Goethe, the great German poet, the author of the 'Sorrows ofWerther,'" exclaimed Napoleon. "Let him come in immediately." A momentlater Constant announced M. von Goethe. Napoleon was still sitting atthe table; Talleyrand was standing at his right; Darn, Savary, andBerthier, at his left. The eyes of all turned toward the door, whereappeared a gentleman of high, dignified bearing. He was tall andvigorous, like a German oak; the head of a Jupiter surmounted his broadshoulders and chest. Time, with its wrinkling hand, had tried in vain todeform the imperishable beauty of that countenance; age could not touchthe charm and dignity of his features; the grace of youth still playedon his classic lips, and the ardor of a young heart was beaming from hisdark eyes as they looked calmly at the emperor.
Napoleon, continuing to eat, beckoned Goethe, with a careless wave ofhis hand, to approach. He complied, and stood in front of the table,opposite the emperor, who looked up, and, turning with an expression ofsurprise to Talleyrand, pointed to Goethe, and exclaimed, "Ah, that is aman!"[42] An imperceptible smile overspread the poet's countenance, andhe bowed in silence.
[Footnote 42: "_Voila un homme_!" These words created a great sensationat the time, and were highly appreciated by the admirers of Goethe, aswell as by the great poet himself. His correspondence with friendscontains numerous allusions to them.--Vide "Riemer's Letters to and fromGoethe," p. 325.]
"How old are you, M. von Goethe?" asked Napoleon.
"Sire, I am in my sixtieth year."
"In your sixtieth year, and yet you have the appearance of a youth! Ah,it is evident that perpetual intercourse with the muses has impartedexternal youth to you."
"Sire, that is true," exclaimed Daru, "the muse of Goethe is that ofyouth, beauty, and grace. Germany justly calls him her greatest poet,and does homage with well-grounded enthusiasm to the author of 'Faust,'of 'Werther,' and of so many other master-pieces."
"I believe you have also written tragedies?" asked Napoleon.
"Sire, I have made some attempts," replied Goethe, smiling. "But theapplause of my countrymen cannot blind me as to the real value of mydramas. I believe it is very difficult, if not impossible, for a Germanpoet to write real tragedies, which fulfil the higher requirements ofart, and withal those of the stage. I must confess that my tragedies arenot so adapted."
"Sire," said Daru, "M. von Goethe has also translated Voltaire's'Mohammed.'"
"That is not a good tragedy," said Napoleon. "Voltaire has sinnedagainst history and the human heart. He has prostituted the character ofMohammed by petty intrigues. He makes a man, who revolutionized theworld, act like an infamous criminal deserving the gallows. Let usrather speak of Goethe's own work--of the 'Sorrows of Werther.' I haveread it many times, and it has always afforded me the highest enjoyment;it accompanied me to Egypt, and during my campaigns in Italy, and it istherefore but just that I should return thanks to the poet for the manypleasant hours he has afforded me."
"Sire, your majesty, at this moment, amply rewards me," said Goethe,bowing slightly.
"Your 'Werther' is indeed a work full of the most exalted ideas," addedNapoleon; "it contains noble views of life, and depicts the wearinessand disgust which all high-minded characters must feel on being forcedto leave their sphere and come in contact with the gross world. You havedescribed the sufferings of your hero with irresistible eloquence, andnever, perhaps, has a poet made a more artistic analysis of love. Let metell you, however, that you have not been entirely consistent in thework. You make your hero die not only of love, but of wounded ambition,and you mention expressly that the injustice he met with at the hands ofhis official superiors was a wound always bleeding, of which he sufferedeven in the presence of the lady whom he loved so passionately. That isnot quite natural, and weakens in the mind of the reader thecomprehension of that influence which love exerted on Werther. Why didyou do so?"
Goethe looked almost in astonishment at the emperor; this unexpectedcensure, and the quick, categorical question, had equally surprised him,and momentarily disturbed the calmness of the poet. "Sire," he said,after a brief pause, "your majesty has found fault with something withwhich no one has reproached me heretofore, and I confess that yourcriticism has struck me. But it is just, and I deserve it. However, apoet may be pardoned for using an artifice which cannot easily bedetected, in order to produce a certain effect that he believes he isunable to bring about in a simple and natural way."
Napoleon nodded assentingly. "Your 'Werther' is a drama of the heart,and there are none to be compared with it," he said. "After reading it,I am persuaded that it is your vocation to write in this style; for thetragic muse is the favorite companion of the greatest poet. Tragedy wasat all times the school of great men. It is the duty of sovereigns toen
courage, patronize, and reward it. In order to appreciate itcorrectly, we need not be poets ourselves; we only need knowledge ofhuman nature, of life, and of a cultivated mind. Tragedy fires theheart, elevates the soul, and can or rather must create heroes. I amconvinced that France is indebted to the works of Corneille for many ofher greatest men. If he were living I would make a prince of him."
"Your majesty, by your words, has just adorned his memory with thecoronet of a prince," said Goethe. "Corneille would assuredly havedeserved it, for he was a poet in the noblest sense, and imbued with theideas and principles of modern civilization. He never makes his heroesdie in consequence of a decree of fate, but they always bear inthemselves the germ of their ruin or death; it is a natural, rationaldeath, not an artificial one."
"Let us say no more about the ancients and their fatalism," exclaimedNapoleon; "they belong to a darker age. Political supremacy is ourmodern fatalism, and our tragedies must be the school of politicians andstatesmen. That is the highest summit which poets are able to reach.You, for instance, ought to write the death of Caesar; it seems to me youcould present a much more exalted view of it than Voltaire did. Thatmight become the noblest task of your life. It ought to be proved to theworld how happy and prosperous Caesar would have made it if time had beengiven him to carry his comprehensive plans into effect. What do youthink of it, M. von Goethe?"
"Sire," said Goethe, with a polite smile, "I should prefer to write thelife and career of Caesar, and in doing so I should not be at a loss fora model." His eyes met those of the emperor, and they well understoodeach other. Both of them smiled.
"You ought to go to Paris," exclaimed Napoleon. "I insist on your doingso. There you will find abundant matter for your muse."
"Your majesty provides the poets of the present time, wherever they maybe, with abundant matter," said Goethe, not in the tone of a courtier,but with the tranquillity of a prince who confers a favor.
"You must go to Paris," repeated Napoleon. "We shall meet again."
Goethe, who was an experienced courtier, understood the delicate hint,and stepped back from the table. Napoleon addressed a question toMarshal Soult, who entered at this moment. The poet withdrew withoutfurther ceremony. The eyes of the emperor followed the tall, proudfigure, and turning to Berthier, he repeated his exclamation, "_Voila unhomme_!"