THE PRINCE OF HOMBURG
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ
FREDERICK WILLIAM, Elector of Brandenburg.
THE ELECTRESS.
PRINCESS NATALIE OF ORANGE, his niece,
Honorary Colonel of a regiment of Dragoons.
FIELD-MARSHAL DÖRFLING.
PRINCE FREDERICK ARTHUR OF HOMBURG,
General of cavalry.
COLONEL KOTTWITZ, of the regiment
of the Princess of Orange.
HENNINGS
COUNT TRUCHSZ Infantry Colonels.
COUNT HOHENZOLLERN, of the Elector's suite.
VON DER GOLZ }
COUNT GEORGE VON SPARREN STRANZ }
SIEGFRIED VON MÖRNER } Captains of Cavalry
COUNT REUSS }
A SERGEANT }
Officers. Corporals and troopers. Ladies- and Gentlemen-in-waiting. Pages. Lackeys. Servants. People of both sexes, young and old.
Time: 1675.
THE PRINCE OF HOMBURG (1810)
By HEINRICH VON KLEIST
TRANSLATED BY HERMANN HAGEDORN, A.B.
Author of A Troop of the Guard and Other Poems
ACT I
Scene: Fehrbellin. A garden laid out in the old French style. In the background, a palace with a terrace from which a broad stair descends. It is night.
SCENE I
The PRINCE OF HOMBURG sits with head bare and shirt unbuttoned, half-sleeping, half waking, under an oak, binding a wreath. The ELECTOR, ELECTRESS, PRINCESS NATALIE, COUNT HOHENZOLLERN, CAPTAIN GOLZ and others come stealthily out of the palace and look down upon him from the balustrade of the terrace. Pages with torches.
HOHENZOLLERN. The Prince of Homburg, our most valiant cousin,
Who these three days has pressed the flying Swedes
Exultant at the cavalry's forefront,
And scant of breath only today returned
To camp at Fehrbellin—your order said
That he should tarry here provisioning
Three hours at most, and move once more apace
Clear to the Hackel Hills to cope with Wrangel,
Seeking to build redoubts beside the Rhyn?
ELECTOR. 'Tis so.
HOHENZOLLERN. Now having charged the commandants
Of all his squadrons to depart the town
Obedient to the plan, sharp ten at night,
He flings himself exhausted on the straw
Like a hound panting, his exhausted limbs
To rest a little while against the fight
Which waits us at the glimmering of dawn.
ELECTOR. I heard so! Well?
HOHENZOLLERN. Now when the hour strikes
And in the stirrup now the cavalry
Expectant paws the ground before the gates—
Who still absents himself The Prince of Homburg,
Their chief. With lights they seek the valiant man,
With torches, lanterns, and they find him—where?
[He takes a torch from the hand of a page.]
As a somnambulist, look, on that bench,
Whither in sleep, as you would ne'er believe,
The moonshine lured him, vaguely occupied
Imagining himself posterity
And weaving for his brow the crown of fame.
ELECTOR. What!
HOHENZOLL. Oh, indeed! Look down here: there he sits!
[From the terrace he throws the light on the PRINCE.]
ELECTOR. In slumber sunk? Impossible!
HOHENZOLLERN. In slumber
Sunk as he is, speak but his name—he drops.
[Pause.]
ELECTRESS. Sure as I live, the youth is taken ill.
NATALIE. He needs a doctor's care—
ELECTRESS. We should give help,
Not waste time, gentlemen, meseems, in scorn.
HOHENZOLLERN (handing back the torch).
He's sound, you tender-hearted women folk,
By Jove, as sound as I! He'll make the Swede
Aware of that upon tomorrow's field.
It's nothing more, and take my word for it,
Than a perverse and silly trick of the mind.
ELECTOR. By faith, I thought it was a fairy-tale!
Follow me, friends, we'll take a closer look.
[They descend from the terrace.]
GENTLEMAN-IN-WAITING (to the pages).
Back with the torches!
[Illustration: #THE ROYAL CASTLE AT BERLIN#]
HOHENZOLLERN. Leave them, leave them, friends!
These precincts might roar up to heaven in fire
And his soul be no more aware of it
Than the bright stone he wears upon his hand.
[They surround him, the pages illuminating the scene.]
ELECTOR (bending over the PRINCE).
What leaf is it he binds? Leaf of the willow?
HOHENZOLL. What! Willow-leaf, my lord? It is the bay,
Such as his eyes have noted on the portraits
Of heroes hung in Berlin's armor-hall.
ELECTOR. Where hath he found that in my sandy soil?
HOHENZOLL. The equitable gods may guess at that!
GENTLEMAN-IN-WAITING.
It may be in the garden, where the gardener
Has nurtured other strange, outlandish plants.
ELECTOR. Most curious, by heaven! But what's the odds?
I know what stirs the heart of this young fool.
HOHENZOLL. Indeed! Tomorrow's clash of arms, my liege!
Astrologers, I'll wager, in his mind
Are weaving stars into a triumph wreath.
[The PRINCE regards the wreath.]
GENTLEMAN-IN-WAITING. Now it is done!
HOHENZOLLERN. A shame, a mortal shame,
That there's no mirror in the neighborhood!
He would draw close to it, vain as any girl,
And try his wreath on, thus, and then again
This other way—as if it were a bonnet!
ELECTOR. By faith! But I must see how far he'll go!
[The ELECTOR takes the wreath from the PRINCE'S hand while the latter regards him, flushing. The ELECTOR thereupon twines his neck-chain about the wreath and gives it to the PRINCESS. The PRINCE rises in excitement, but the ELECTOR draws back with the PRINCESS, still holding the wreath aloft. The PRINCE follows her with outstretched arms.]
THE PRINCE (whispering).
Natalie! Oh, my girl! Oh, my beloved!
ELECTOR. Make haste! Away!
HOHENZOLLERN. What did the fool say?
GENTLEMAN-IN-WAITING. What?
[They all ascend the stair to the terrace.]
THE PRINCE. Frederick, my prince! my father!
HOHENZOLLERN. Hell and devils!
ELECTOR (backing away from him).
Open the gate for me!
THE PRINCE. Oh, mother mine!
HOHENZOLL. The raving idiot!
ELECTRESS. Whom did he call thus?
THE PRINCE (clutching at the wreath).
Beloved, why do you recoil? My Natalie!
[He snatches a glove from the PRINCESS' hand.]
HOHENZOLL. Heaven and earth! What laid he hands on there?
COURTIER. The wreath?
NATALIE. No, no!
HOHENZOLLERN (opening the door). Hither! This way, my
liege!
So the whole scene may vanish from his eye!
ELECTOR. Back to oblivion, with you, oblivion,
Sir Prince of Homburg! On the battle-field,
If you be so disposed, we meet again!
Such matters men attain not in a dream!
[They all go out; the door crashes shut in the PRINCE'S face. Pause.]
SCENE II
The PRINCE OF HOMBURG remains standing before the door a moment in perplexity; then dreamily descends from the terrace, the hand holding the glove pressed against his forehead. At the foot of the stair he turns again, gazing up at the door.
SCENE III
Enter COUNT HOHENZOLLERN by the wicket below. A page follows him. The PRINCE OF HOMBURG.
PAGE (Softly).
Count! Listen, do! Most worshipful Sir
Count!
HOHENZOLLERN (vexed).
Grasshopper! Well? What's wanted?
PAGE. I am sent—
HOHENZOLL. Speak softly now, don't wake him with your chirping!
Come now! What's up?
PAGE. The Elector sent me hither.
He charges you that, when the Prince awakes,
You breathe no word to him about the jest
It was his pleasure to allow himself.
HOHENZOLLERN (softly).
You skip off to the wheatfield for some sleep.
I knew that, hours ago. So run along.
SCENE IV
COUNT HOHENZOLLERN and the PRINCE of HOMBURG.
HOHENZOLLERN (taking a position some distance behind the PRINCE who is still gazing fixedly up toward the terrace). Arthur!
[The PRINCE drops to the ground.]
And there he lies!
You could not do it better with a bullet.
[He approaches him.]
Now I am eager for the fairy-tale
He'll fabricate to show the reason why
Of all the world he chose this place to sleep in.
[He bends over him.]
Arthur! Hi! Devil's own! What are you up to?
What are you doing here at dead of night?
THE PRINCE. Ah, dear, old fellow!
HOHENZOLLERN. Well, I'm hanged! See here!
The cavalry's a full hour down the road
And you, their colonel, you lie here and sleep.
THE PRINCE. What cavalry?
HOHENZOLLERN. The Mamelukes, of course!
Sure as I live and breathe, the man's forgot
That he commands the riders of the Mark!
THE PRINCE (rising).
My helmet, quick then! My cuirass!
HOHENZOLLERN. Where are they?
THE PRINCE. Off to the right there, Harry.—On the stool.
HOHENZOLL. Where? On the stool?
THE PRINCE. I laid them there, I thought—
HOHENZOLLERN (regarding him).
Then go and get them from the stool yourself.
THE PRINCE. What's this glove doing here
[He stares at the glove in his hand.]
HOHENZOLLERN. How should I know?
[Aside.] Curses! He must have torn that
unobserved from the lady niece's arm. [Abruptly.] Quick
now, be off!
What are you waiting for?
THE PRINCE (casting the glove away again).
I'm coming, coming.
Hi, Frank! The knave I told to wake me must
have—
HOHENZOLLERN (regarding him).
It's raving mad he is!
THE PRINCE. Upon my oath, Harry, my dear, I don't know where I am.
HOHENZOLL. In Fehrbellin, you muddle-headed dreamer—
You're in a by-path of the Castle gardens.
THE PRINCE (to himself).
Engulf me, Night! Unwittingly once more
In slumber through the moonshine have I
strayed! [He pulls himself together.]
Forgive me! Now I know! Last night, recall,
The heat was such one scarce could lie in bed.
I crept exhausted hither to this garden,
And because Night with so sweet tenderness
Encompassed me, fair-haired and odorous Night—
Even as the Persian bride wraps close her lover,
Lo, here I laid my head upon her lap.
What is the clock now?
HOHENZOLLERN. Half an hour of midnight.
THE PRINCE. And you aver the troops are on the march?
HOHENZOLL. Upon my word, sharp, stroke of ten, as planned.
The Princess Orange regiment in van,
By this undoubtedly has reached the heights
Of Hackelwitz, there in the face of Wrangel
To cloak the army's hid approach at dawn.
THE PRINCE. Well, no harm's done. Old Kottwitz captains her
And he knows every purpose of this march.
I should have been compelled, at all events
By two, to come back hither for the council:
Those were the orders. So it's just as well
I stayed in the beginning. Let's be off.
The Elector has no inkling?
HOHENZOLLERN. Bah! How should he?
He's tight abed and snoozing long ago.
[They are about to depart when the PRINCE starts, turns, and picks
up the glove.]
THE PRINCE. I dreamed such an extraordinary dream!
It seemed as though the palace of a king,
Radiant with gold and silver, suddenly
Oped wide its doors, and from its terrace high
The galaxy of those my heart loves best
Came down to me:
The Elector and his Lady and the—third—
What is her name?
HOHENZOLLERN. Whose?
THE PRINCE (searching his memory). Why, the one I mean!
A mute must find his tongue to speak her name.
HOHENZOLL. The Platen girl?
THE PRINCE. Come, come, now!
HOHENZOLLERN. The Ramin
THE PRINCE. No, no, old fellow!
HOHENZOLLERN. Bork? Or Winterfeld?
THE PRINCE. No, no! My word! You fail to see the pearl
For the bright circlet that but sets it off!
HOHENZOLL. Damn it, then, tell me! I can't guess the face!
What lady do you mean?
THE PRINCE. Well, never mind.
The name has slipped from me since I awoke,
And goes for little in the story.
HOHENZOLLERN. Well,
Let's have it then!
THE PRINCE. But now, don't interrupt me!—
And the Elector of the Jovelike brow,
Holding a wreath of laurel in his hand,
Stands close beside me, and the soul of me
To ravish quite, twines round the jeweled band
That hangs about his neck, and unto one
Gives it to press upon my locks—Oh, friend!
HOHENZOLL. To whom?
THE PRINCE. Oh, friend!
HOHENZOLLERN. To whom then? Come, speak up!
THE PRINCE. I think it must have been the Platen girl.
HOHENZOLL. Platen? Oh, bosh! Not she who's off in Prussia?
THE PRINCE. Really, the Platen girl. Or the Ramin?
HOHENZOLL. Lord, the Ramin! She of the brick-red hair?
The Platen girl with those coy, violet eyes—
They say you fancy her.
THE PRINCE. I fancy her—
HOHENZOLL. So, and you say she handed you the wreath?
THE PRINCE. Oh, like some deity of fame she lifts
High up the circlet with its dangling chain
As if to crown a hero. I stretch forth,
Oh, in delight unspeakable, my hands
I stretch to seize it, yearning with my soul
To sink before her feet. But as the odor
That floats above green valleys, by the wind's
Cool breathing is dispelled, the group recedes
Up the high terrace from me; lo, the terrace
Beneath my tread immeasurably distends
To heaven's very gate. I clutch at air
Vainly to right, to left I clutch at air,
Of those I loved hungering to capture one.
In vain! The palace portal opes amain.
A flash of lightning from within engulfs them;
Rattling, the door flies to. Only a glove
I ravish from the sweet dream-creature's arm
In passionate pursuing; and a glove,
By all the gods, awaking, here I hold!
HOHENZOLL. Upon my word—and, you assume, the glove
Must be her glove?
THE PRINCE. Whose?
HOHENZOLLERN. Well, the Platen girl's.
THE PRINCE. Platen! Of course. Or could it be Ramin's
HOHENZOLLERN (with a laugh).
Rogue that you are with your mad fantasies!
Who knows from what exploit delectable
Here in a waking hour with flesh and blood
The glove sticks to your hand, now?
THE PRINCE. Eh? What? I?
With all my love—
HOHENZOLLERN. Oh, well then, what's the odds?
Call it the Platen lady, or Ramin.
There is a Prussian post on Sunday next,
So you can find out by the shortest way
Whether your lady fair has lost a glove.
Off! Twelve o'clock! And we stand here and jaw!
THE PRINCE (dreamily into space).
Yes, you are right. Come, let us go to bed.
But as I had it on my mind to say—
Is the Electress who arrived in camp
Not long since with her niece, the exquisite
Princess of Orange, is she still about?
HOHENZOLL. Why?—I declare the idiot thinks—
THE PRINCE. Why?
I've orders to have thirty mounted men
Escort them safely from the battle-lines.
Ramin has been detailed to lead them.
HOHENZOLLERN. Bosh!
They're gone long since, or just about to go.
The whole night long, Ramin, all rigged for flight,
Has hugged the door. But come. It's stroke o' twelve.
And I, for one, before the fight begins,
I want to get some sleep.