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Apart from its literary merits or demerits, such is the temper of mind we trace in Goethe's /Meister/, and, more or less expressly exhibited, in all his later works. We reckon it a rare phenomenon, this temper; and worthy, in our times, if it do exist, of best study from all inquiring men.
A few seconds later and a German professor with blond hair of a musical cut approached the prompt stand. "Ees dot Meister Vogue somewheres about here, I don't know?" he inquired. "In his dressing-room," curtly answered Handy. "Ees dot so? Veil, then, I am Professor Funkenstein, und mein men der money want before dot overture." "You're in a large-sized hurry, ain't you?" replied the stage manager.
Suddenly she uttered a low cry, exclaiming: "There's a dog barking, Meister Adam, I hear it." The smith turned pale and shook his head, but she cried earnestly: "Believe me; I hear it. Now it's barking again." Adam too, now heard a strange noise in the forest. With lightning speed he loosened the hammer in his belt, took Ruth by the hand, and ran up the clearing with her.
One of Goethe's critics complained that the class of persons he had introduced in "Wilhelm Meister" did not belong to good society; and to this the "aristocratic" poet replied: "I have often been in society called good, from which I have not been able to obtain an idea for the shortest poem." So it is always: the interesting person is the one who struggles.
True, the Burgrave von Zollern had not come to visit him in person, like many "Honourables" and gentlemen, but he had sent his son Eitelfritz to enquire how he fared, and the prisoner was occupied with the petition which he wished to send the sovereign the next day through Meister Gottlieb von Passau, the Emperor Rudolph's protonotary.
"My uncle is right, Meister Peter," said Jan Van der Does, the same tall young noble, who, on the morning of that day, had sent Nicolas Van Wibisma home with a kindly warning. "It's no use, you must seek the Prince and consult with him." "I suppose I must," replied the burgomaster. "I'll go to-morrow morning." "Not to-morrow," replied Van Hout.
In 1832, it was announced by the post-horns of all Europe as the death of him who had written the Wilhelm Meister, the Iphigenie, and the Faust, and who had been enthroned by some of his admirers on the same seat with Homer and Shakspeare, as composing what they termed the trinity of men of genius.
Back in London for the winter, where his time was divided between Irving's house and his own neighbouring room in Southampton Street, he was cheered by Goethe's own acknowledgment of the translation of Meister, characteristically and generously cordial.
La Motte Fouqué, Tieck, Wieland's "Oberon," Goethe's "Wilhelm Meister," were my principal studies; soon to be followed by the sort of foretaste of Jean Paul Richter that Mr.
Meister Lucius & Bruning in Hochst am Main, referred to as Hochst; Leopold Cassella G.m.b.H. in Frankfort; and Kalle & Co., Aktien-Gesellschaft in Biebrich. Each of these six great companies had attained enormous proportions long before the war. Only two other concerns had carried on manufacture on a comparable scale.
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