Natalia is a significant character in Wilhelm Meister’s Apprenticeship, though she’s absent for large sections of the book, and her identity is only revealed in Part 8. Her first appearance follows the robbers’ attack on the acting troupe. With Wilhelm hurt, the passing retinue of an unknown noblewoman stops and offers aid. Wilhelm is immediately “astonished at her lovely figure” (220), but, given the severity of his wounds, he’s unable to ask for her name. She leaves as Wilhelm passes out, yet she remains fixed in his memory as his “beautiful Amazon.” Symbolically, her entrance into Wilhelm’s life establishes her redemptive function; she “saves” Wilhelm first from death and then from an unmoored, self-centered existence.

Over the ensuing chapters, this image stays in Wilhelm’s mind. Every time he feels lost or dislocated, the fleeting image of the beautiful woman returns to him. She takes on a mythic quality, providing Wilhelm with strength and inspiration when he’s at his lowest ebb. Even when he’s in the midst of a romance with Theresa, he feels the allure of the unknown “Amazon,” demonstrating the significant effect that Natalia had on him.

The characters’ reunion, much later in the novel, inspires “unbounded rapture” in Wilhelm yet also a growing awareness of the difficulty of his position. He’s now engaged to Theresa and can’t honorably end the engagement, and there’s also a pressing class tension between Wilhelm (a burgher) and Natalia (a member of the nobility and Lothario’s sister). Through the machinations of the plot, however, Theresa and Lothario are drawn together, while Wilhelm and Natalia become engaged and agree to marry alongside them. This resolves not only the tangled social situation but also Wilhelm’s struggle between passion and rationality; his romantic impulses, like his artistic aspirations, are subordinated to a social institution (in this case, marriage).

Werner is Wilhelm’s childhood friend. They grow up together in similar class circumstances, though their fathers differ in terms of personality. Yet despite their shared background, Wilhelm and Werner have competing visions of the world that could not be more divergent. Whereas Wilhelm wants to seek himself in the wider world of art and theater, Werner is only interested in staying home and making money. Werner thus becomes a foil to Wilhelm, illustrating what Wilhelm’s life would entail should he lack any kind of artistic ambition: Werner stays at home, is successful, and feels satiated by his success. The contrast structures Wilhelm’s own understanding of his life: At each juncture, facing success or tragedy, Wilhelm can look back to Werner and see how his life might have been. Tellingly, he very rarely envies Werner, yet the same is true of Werner’s view of Wilhelm. They remain near opposites in terms of their worldview.

By the end of the novel, Werner is operating on a high economic level, concluding business deals with members of the nobility, such as Lothario. In this sense, he’s surprised to be reunited with Wilhelm while concluding a deal. Ironically, the two friends have followed divergent paths toward the same place, but Werner’s presence at the end of the book doesn’t suggest that their reunion was inevitable. Rather, it continues to function as a point of contrast for Wilhelm. Werner may have arrived at the same place in a geographic sense, but their sensibilities are very different. Werner’s sheltered experiences have left him without the formative education of Wilhelm’s journey. In this way, Werner continues to function as a mirror for his old friend, reflecting back the true consequences of Wilhelm’s many adventures.

Mignon is a young girl who, apparently orphaned, attaches herself to Wilhelm and stays with him throughout many of his adventures. In Mignon, Wilhelm develops the capacity for a different kind of love. Whereas his romantic feelings veer excitedly between women, his parental affection for Mignon fosters a growing capacity for steadiness and responsibility. The fire that threatens Mignon, the harper, and Felix illustrates her role in shaping Wilhelm’s character. That night, faced with the prospect of losing the children (and the old man), Wilhelm is confronted with the emotional reality of his situation. He is invested in these people and in Mignon, in particular; he can’t presume himself to be the same, carefree, rash youth who set out on his adventure. Later, this sincere affection is rewarded by the marchese, reinforcing for Wilhelm the benefits and the importance of nonromantic love.

The novel also frames Mignon as a mysterious and somewhat beguiling figure. That she speaks in “broken German, interlaced with French and Italian” frames her as foreign and thus “exotic” (115), but it also hints at her liminality; she resists national categorization just as her appearance initially blurs the lines of masculinity and femininity. The elusive character nature of Mignon is matched by a sense of frailty. Her egg dance, for example, is a “singular spectacle” that heightens her mystery, yet the symbolism of the unbroken eggs evokes her precarious situation as a frail young girl surrounded by threats. Mignon, like the eggs in the dance, survives many of her travails, but her health ultimately falters. Her death symbolically indicates how little room there is in society for the kind of liminality she embodies. In this, her death reminds Wilhelm of the need to “settle down” and define himself by socially recognizable norms.

Mignon’s tragic backstory reinforces her status as a symbol of a life lived outside societal norms. She’s the product of a tragic misunderstanding; the harper is her father, who mistakenly slept with his own sister. Moreover, in the ensuing chaos, she’s never reunited with her father: Wilhelm’s story draws together Mignon and the harper (Augustin), only for them to perish within a short window of time without ever learning of their true relation. As Mignon’s affection taught Wilhelm about a different kind of love, her death teaches him about the perils of an unresolved life. It is a tragic moment of clarification, a “piercing grief” that cuts through the distractions and clarifies for Wilhelm the importance of his relationships. He becomes more devoted than ever to his son, Felix, and realizes that he must marry Natalia. Through death and tragedy, Mignon imparts one final lesson to her adoptive father figure.

Of the many women whom Wilhelm encounters on his journey, Theresa is the most prominent as a model of female self-sufficiency. In the opening chapters, Mariana and Barbara debate women’s dependency on men such as Norberg. Philina is constantly searching for patrons. Aurelia’s life unravels after an unhappy love affair. Theresa, however, is an “altogether different woman” (402). She speaks to tenants and renters, ensuring that the lands under her care are properly managed. She is so talented in this respect that her skills are sought out and employed by others, including men like Lothario. Theresa actively flouts social expectations of women, defying gender norms to such an extent that, when she meets Wilhelm, she’s dressed in male clothing.

However, if Theresa contrasts with the women whom Wilhelm has met thus far, she also contrasts with Wilhelm himself. Whereas Wilhelm set out to achieve his artistic ambitions and disregarded pragmatism and practicality, Theresa has perfected these talents to such an extent that it almost seems like art. She has made land management and responsibility her “art.” For this reason, she fascinates Wilhelm, who increasingly recognizes the limitations of his artistic vision but hasn’t fully embraced a life oriented toward social good.

The love that emerges between Wilhelm and Theresa isn’t the burning, intense passion of his previous romances. Instead, it’s a comfortable, mutually beneficial routine. Theresa herself states as much, comparing Wilhelm’s proposal of marriage to her previous affection for Lothario. They are different models of love, she realizes, but no less sincere. This mature attitude reflects Therea’s complicated past. She was raised by a woman who disliked her immensely because (as is eventually revealed) Theresa’s biological mother was her father’s mistress. Ironically, her lack of relation to her presumed mother ultimately benefits her, as it allows her to marry Lothario and Wilhelm to marry Natalaia. The complicated way in which these various romantic entanglements resolve themselves highlights the competing modes of love and romance in the novel. Though all the characters default to a more passionate love, they do so only after receiving an education in companionate relationship, implying the need to integrate the two.