Wilhelm Meister's apprenticeship and travels, vol. 1 (of 2)Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von
General
Wilhelm Meister's apprenticeship and travels, vol. 1 (of 2)
Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von
Bildungsromans; German fiction -- Translations into English; Self-realization -- Fiction
The animation of the people spread to the spectators at the windows: the
ladies looked incessantly at Narciss, the gentlemen at Landrinette. The
populace hurrahed, the more cultivated public could not keep from
clapping of the hands: Pickleherring now could scarcely raise a laugh. A
few, however, slunk away when some members of the troop began to press
through the crowd with their tin plates to collect money.
"They have made their purpose good, I imagine," said Wilhelm to Philina,
who was leaning over the window beside him. "I admire the ingenuity with
which they have turned to advantage even the meanest parts of their
performance: out of the unskilfulness of their children, and
exquisiteness of their chief actors, they have made up a whole which at
first excited our attention, and then gave us very fine entertainment."
The people by degrees dispersed; and the square was again become empty,
while Philina and Laertes were disputing about the forms and the skill
of Narciss and Landrinette, and rallying each other on the subject at
great length. Wilhelm noticed the wonderful child standing on the street
near some other children at play: he showed her to Philina, who, in her
lively way, immediately called and beckoned to the little one, and, this
not succeeding, tripped singing down stairs, and led her up by the hand.
"Here is the enigma," said she, as she brought her to the door. The
child stood upon the threshold, as if she meant again to run off; laid
her right hand on her breast, the left on her brow, and bowed deeply.
"Fear nothing, my little dear," said Wilhelm, rising, and going towards
her. She viewed him with a doubting look, and came a few steps nearer.
"What is thy name?" he asked. "They call me Mignon."--"How old art
thou?"--"No one has counted."--"Who was thy father?"--"The Great Devil
is dead."
"Well! this is singular enough," said Philina. They asked her a few more
questions: she gave her answers in a kind of broken German, and with a
strangely solemn manner; every time laying her hands on her breast and
brow, and bowing deeply.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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