Napoleon by Paul Johnson

Author:Paul Johnson
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781440684487
Publisher: Penguin USA, Inc.
Published: 2012-01-05T04:22:46+00:00

Other famous German creators were more circumspect but equally dismissive. At the spectacular meeting of kings and princes at Erfurt in the autumn of 1808, Goethe, as Germany’s leading writer and an important figure in the government of a small Rhineland state, was present. It was an imperial summit meeting, designed to impress. The palace, where the emperor took over, was transformed by a hundred wagonloads of French furniture, Savonnerie tapisseries, Aubusson carpets, Sèvres porcelain, gold and silver, a score of French chefs, and mountains of pâté, cheeses, hams, truffles, and cases of vintage Bordeaux and champagne. Except for the czar, the rulers all had to assemble in good time to greet the entrance of the emperor, when all stood up and bowed, and their ladies curtsied deep. The distinguished men present, from ruling dukes and cardinals to scribblers, waited for the imperial eye to fall on them. Bonaparte announced that Kassel was to be the new German capital. Johannes von Müller, the leading German historian, was to look after the details and write the emperor’s life (as he had already done Frederick the Great’s). Grimm was to be librarian and Beethoven the court musician. Other announcements would follow. (Little came of them.) Then Bonaparte’s glance fell on Goethe, who was summoned for an audience.

He found the emperor gobbling his breakfast, and stood watching him. He noted the green uniform of the Gardes Chasseurs, and Bonaparte’s small feminine hand, hidden inside his waistcoat when not writing. Messengers arrived continually. Talleyrand came in with diplomatic news. General Pierre-Antoine Daru presented a report on the conscripted Prussian levies, now in training and eventually to be frozen and abandoned in the wastes of Russia. Goethe, despite himself, was impressed by the great man, now thirty-eight and getting plump, but ruling the world with a decisive phrase, a curt nod, a quick negative. Eventually he turned to Goethe, with an approving look: “Voilà un homme,” he said to his entourage. Flattery was quickly followed by the usual barrage of questions. How old are you? Have you children? What news of your duke? What are you writing? Have you seen the czar yet? You must describe this summit and dedicate your pamphlet to the czar, who will be pleased. Goethe: “I have never done anything of that kind.” “Then you should start now. Remember Voltaire.” Bonaparte smiled. “I have read Werther seven times. I took it with me to Egypt, to read under the Pyramids. It is part of the traveling library I keep in my coach. However, I have some criticisms to make.” Goethe listened patiently. “Now, Monsieur Gött, let me come to the point. Come to Paris. I ask you most earnestly, as a personal favor to myself. There is a lack of great plays now. You must write them. Show how a great man, a modern Caesar, can bring general happiness to mankind. Do it in Paris and the Comédie Française will present it with éclat. I implore you. I love the theatre.

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