In the night he sneaked into the house of immunodiagnostic systems



It was in the spring of 1823 when a stranger entered his room; a feeble figure, a pale face, destroyed by sorrow and passion. Embarrassed and awkward, he announced with a rumbling voice that he was Grabbe. There could hardly be a greater self-deception on the one hand, and disappointment on the other. Of all the talents which Grabbe had praised, he possessed none, neither voice, nor posture, nor changeability. Everything was based on an imagination that increased his unhappiness. He was less suited for anything than for a public appearance on the Bretern. The pressure of close relations and the stubborn feeling of his strength had given him something stubborn. Some of the readings he insisted on were unfavorable, confirming that he had no vocation for the theater. It also turned out that frequent consumption of alcoholic beverages ruined his health.

In his lawlessness he did not fit in a bourgeois order. He was hard to accommodate; his dramas, which he hoped for, could not be portrayed. At Tieck’s use, however, the directorship of the Dresden theater sought to assist him otherwise. But that could not satisfy him. He was capable of his not to let fancies, and believed misjudged and reset. He had thrown himself into Tieck’s arms, expecting help from him, relief of his condition, and fulfillment of fantastic wishes, in which he saw a recognition of his worth.

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