It was during this tour that she met the poet Goethe at the court of Weimar, where she was made an honored guest, as she had been treated everywhere in royal and princely circles.  At a court dinner-party where she was present, the great German poet was as usual the cynosure of the company.  His imperial and splendid presence and world-wide fame marked him out from all others.  Catalani was struck by the appearance of this modern Olympian god, and asked who he was.  To a mind innocent of all culture except such as touched her art merely, the name “Goethe” conveyed but little significance.  “Pray, on what instrument does he play?” “He is no performer, madame—­he is the renowned author of ‘Werter.’” “Oh yes, yes, I remember,” she said; then turning to the venerable poet, she addressed him in her vivacious manner.  “Ah! sir, what an admirer I am of ‘Werter!’” Flattered by her evident sincerity and ardor, the poet bowed profoundly.  “I never,” continued she, in the same lively strain, “I never read anything half so laughable in all my life.  What a capital farce it is, sir!” The poet, astounded, could scarcely believe the evidence of his ears. “‘The Sorrows of Werter’ a farce!” he murmured faintly.  “Oh yes, never was anything so exquisitely ridiculous,” rejoined Catalani, with a ringing burst of laughter.  It turned out that she had been talking all the while of a ridiculous parody of “Werter” which had been performed at one of the vaudeville theatres of Paris, in which the sentimentality of Goethe’s tale had been most savagely ridiculed.  We can fancy what Goethe’s mortification was, and how the fair diva’s credit was impaired at the court of Weimar by her ignorance of the illustrious poet and of the novel whose fame had rung through all Europe.

Mme. Catalani returned to England in 1821, and found herself the subject of an enthusiasm little less than that which had greeted her in her earlier prime.  Her concert tour extended through all the cities of the British kingdom.  In this tour she was supported by the great tenor Braham, as remarkable a singer in some respects as Catalani herself, and probably the most finished artist of English birth who ever ornamented the lyric stage.  Braham had been brilliantly associated with the lyric triumphs of Mara, Billington, and Grassini, and had been welcomed in Italy itself as one of the finest singers in the world.  When Catalani’s dramatic career in England commenced Braham had supported her, though her jealousy soon rid her of so brilliant a competitor for the public plaudits.  Braham’s part in Catalani’s English concert tour was a very important one, and some cynical wags professed to believe that as many went to hear the great tenor as to listen to Catalani.