Selected Prose of Heinrich Von Kleist

by Heinrich von Kleist

  Kohlhaas happened to be seated on a bale of hay with his back to the wall, feeding the child that had fallen ill in Herzberg with a roll and milk, when the highborn guests dropped by the dairy farm to pay him a visit. To initiate a conversation, the lady inquired: Who was he? What ailed the child? What crime had he committed? And where was he being taken with such an armed escort? In response to this he respectfully doffed his leather cap, and, while going about his business, offered terse but satisfactory answers. Standing behind the huntsmen and noticing a small lead tube dangling from a silken thread round the horse trader’s neck, the Elector at a loss for anything else to say, asked him why he wore it and what the tube contained. To which Kohlhaas replied:

  “This tube, yes, gracious Sir” – plucking the object from round his neck, screwing it open, and removing and unrolling a note bearing a lacquer seal – “this tube has a very special meaning for me! It has been just about seven months to the day since my dear wife’s funeral; whereupon, as you perhaps already know, I rode forth from Kohlhaasenbrück to lay my hands on Junker von Tronka, who had done me great injustices, when, for reasons unknown to me, the Elector of Saxony and the Elector of Brandenburg happened to have arranged a meeting on the market square in Jüterbock, through which my journey took me. And since, toward evening, the two lords had completed their business, they went strolling through town together, engaged in friendly conversation, to catch a glimpse of the fair in full swing at the time. There they chanced upon a gypsy woman seated on a footstool telling fortunes to the crowd, and inquired of her in jest if she did not have a jolly tidbit to reveal to them. I, who had stopped off with my men at an inn and happened to be present on the square at that moment, pressed as I was behind the crowd at the entrance to a church, unable to make out what that inscrutable woman said to the gentlemen, stepped back and climbed onto a stone bench at the church portal, less, I must admit, out of curiosity than to make way for the curious, who laughingly whispered to each other that the old biddy didn’t spill the beans for every Tom, Dick, and Harry, and shoved their way forward to be present at the spectacle. No sooner had I caught sight from this unobstructed vantage point of the gentlemen and the gypsy woman seated on the stool before them scribbling something on a scrap of paper than she suddenly stood up and, leaning on her crutches, scanned the crowd; and though we had never exchanged a word nor had I ever in my life solicited her wisdom, she looked me right in the eye, pressed her way through the mob toward me and said: ‘Here! If Milord would like to know what lies ahead, let him ask you!’ And thereupon, gracious Sir, with her bony fingers she handed me this note. And when, taken aback, with all eyes upon me, I said: ‘Little mother, with what gift do you honor me?’ she replied, following much incomprehensible muttering, among which, to my great amazement, I heard my name: ‘It’s an amulet, Kohlhaas the horse trader, preserve it well for it will one day save your life!’ whereupon she disappeared. Now then!” Kohlhaas continued in a genial tone of voice, “if truth be told, as close as I came to my end in Dresden, I came away with my life; and how things turn out for me in Berlin, and if I come away alive and kicking, only the future will tell.” At these words the Elector sank down on a bench; and though in answer to the lady’s concerned question: “What’s the matter?” he answered: “Nothing, nothing at all!” he then fell unconscious to the floor before she had time to catch him in her arms. The Baronet von Malzahn, who at that very moment happened to enter the room attending to some other business, cried: “Dear God! What ails Milord?” The lady cried back: “Bring him water!” The huntsmen picked him up and carried him into a bed in the room next door; and the general stupefaction came to a head when the Lord Chamberlain, whom a page had rushed to inform, declared after several fruitless attempts to revive him: “He gives every appearance of having suffered a stroke!” While the cupbearer promptly sent a mounted messenger to Luckau to fetch a physician, the Chief Magistrate, seeing that the ailing Lord batted an eye, had him carried to a cart and slowly rolled to a nearby hunting lodge; but the effort caused him to twice more lose consciousness en route, such that he only managed to recover somewhat from the unmistakable symptoms of a nervous fever late the next morning when the physician arrived from Luckau. As soon as he came to, he sat up halfway in bed and the first question on his lips was: “Where is Kohlhaas?” Misconstruing his meaning, the Lord Chamberlain gripped his hand and said: “Milord need worry no more about that awful man, who, following the strange and incomprehensible incident, I ordered held under Brandenburg guard in the dairy farm at Dahme.” And while assuring him of his most heartfelt concern and that he had bitterly reproached his wife for her unconscionable folly in having brought Milord in contact with this man, he asked him what strange and monstrous words in the scoundrel’s conversation had so taken him aback. The Elector replied: “All I can tell you is that this whole unpleasant business was provoked by the sight of a mere scrap of paper which the man kept in a tube around his neck.” He added certain details which the Lord Chamberlain did not understand; and suddenly, gripping the latter’s hand tightly, assured him that it was of the utmost importance that he gain possession of that scrap of paper; and, sitting up straight, bid him promptly ride to Dahme and acquire that paper from the prisoner for whatever price. Hard pressed to hide his fluster, the Lord High Chamberlain assured the Elector that if this slip of paper held the slightest importance for him it was of the utmost importance not to let Kohlhaas know it, since, should he get wind of it from a careless utterance, all the riches of the realm would not suffice to make that truculent lout, hell-bent on revenge, part with it. He added, to allay his fears, that they would have to find a different way, perhaps resorting to a ruse, soliciting the help of a third impartial party, to get him to give up that scrap, which, in all likelihood, he did not even care much about, but which His Lordship so desired. Wiping the sweat from his brow, the Elector asked: “Might it not in that case be advisable to immediately send word to Dahme to have the horse trader’s further transport held up temporarily, until you manage, by whatever means, to get hold of that paper.” The Lord Chamberlain, who could hardly believe his ears, replied: “Unfortunately, in all likelihood, Milord, the horse trader has already left Dahme and is now on the far side of the border in Brandenburg, where any attempt to hinder his advance or to make him return would provoke the most unpleasant and complex repercussions, indeed such difficulties that we might not be able to resolve.” Seeing as the Elector lay his head back down on the pillow in silence with a look of utter hopelessness, the Lord Chamberlain asked: “What in heaven’s name does it say on that slip of paper? And by what strange and inexplicable coincidence did you discover that it had anything to do with you?” To which, however, casting suspicious glances at the Lord Chamberlain, whose discretion in this case he doubted, the Elector made no reply; he lay there stiffly with a fast-beating heart, staring down at the tip of the handkerchief he held in a trembling grip; and suddenly bid him go fetch the Huntsman von Stein, a hale and hearty, clever young fellow, whom he had often called upon to attend to covert business, pretending that he had some other matter to discuss with him. After explaining the matter to the Huntsman and assuring him of the importance of procuring that slip of paper now in Kohlhaas’ possession, he asked him if he thought that he could get it from Kohlhaas before he reached Berlin, and thereby earn his lifelong friendship and gratitude. And as soon as the young gentleman grasped the importance of this matter, as odd as it seemed, he assured His Lordship that he would do everything in his power to serve him. Whereupon the Elector charged him to ride after Kohlhaas, and since the latter could probably not be swayed with money, to rather in a secretly arranged meeting offer him his freedom and his life in exchange; indeed, if he asked, to furnish him with horses, men, and money to help him, albeit with great prudence, to break free of the armed detail from Brandenburg and make his escape. After requesting and receiving a written attestation signed and sealed by the Elector, Sir von Stein immediately set out with several servant
s, and, spurring on the horses, had the good fortune to catch up with Kohlhaas at a border hamlet, where he, the Baronet von Malzahn, and the horse trader’s five children were taking their midday meal outside in a courtyard. The Huntsman introduced himself to the Baronet von Malzahn as a passing stranger who wished to see the extraordinary man in his charge, and the Baronet immediately obliged, introducing him to Kohlhaas, and urging him to join them at table; and since the Baronet came and went, preparing for their departure, while the guards sat apart at a table on the other side of the house, the occasion soon presented itself for the Huntsman to reveal his true identity and the purpose of his mission to the horse trader. Upon learning the name and title of the man who had fallen unconscious at the sight of the tube at the dairy in Dahme, and being informed that to relieve the dizziness caused by the sight of it, said gentle man sought nothing more than some insight into the secrets of that slip of paper it contained, which, for various reasons, the horse trader resolved not to reveal, the latter responded that, given the ignoble and ungentlemanly treatment he had been forced to suffer in Dresden, despite his complete willingness to comply with all demands made of him, “I wish to retain that slip of paper.” In answer to the Huntsman’s baffled question as to the reason for such a strange reluctance to part with it, given that he was being offered in exchange nothing less than his freedom and his life, Kohlhaas replied: “Noble Sir! If your sovereign prince came to me and said, I will slay myself and the legions of those who support my claim to the scepter – slay myself and them, you understand, which would satisfy my deepest desire – I would still refuse to part with that slip of paper more dear to him than life itself, and I would say to him: You can make me mount the scaffold, but I can get you where it hurts, and that is exactly what I want.” And with these words, in the face of death, he called a guard over to finish off a tender tidbit left in the serving bowl; and for the rest of the hour he spent at table beside the Huntsman, he acted as if he were not there, and only turned to him again as he climbed back into the wagon with a wave of farewell. Upon being informed of this, the Elector’s condition worsened to such a degree that the physician spent three fretful days profoundly concerned for His Lordship’s life, threatened as it was from all sides. Nevertheless, by the strength of his natural constitution, after spending several difficult weeks in his sick bed, he got better; and was at least strong enough to be transported by carriage, with pillows and blankets, back to Dresden to attend to matters of state. Immediately upon his arrival, he called for Prince Christiern von Meissen and asked him how things stood with the preparations of Court Counselor Eibenmayer, whom they had decided to send to Vienna to plead their case against Kohlhaas before His Imperial Majesty for cross-border incursions and transgression of the peace on Saxon soil. The Prince replied that, in compliance with the orders His Lordship left upon his departure for Dahme, upon the arrival of the jurist Zäuner whom the Elector of Brandenburg had sent to Dresden to pursue Kohlhaas’ lawsuit against Junker Wenzel von Tronka in the matter of the nags, Court Counselor Eibenmayer had left for Vienna. Turning red in the face and rushing to his desk, the Elector expressed his surprise at such undue haste, in that, according to his recollection, he had expressly instructed that Eibenmayer’s departure be held up until further notice, pending prior necessary consultation with Dr. Luther, who had procured the amnesty for Kohlhaas. Meanwhile, knitting his brow, he shuffled through a pile of official correspondence and documents that lay on his desk. After a moment’s pause, the Prince replied with a puzzled expression that he was very sorry if he unwittingly aroused His Lordship’s displeasure in this matter; but he would be happy to show him the Privy Council’s decision, wherein it stated that he was duty-bound to send the barrister to Vienna at the aforementioned time. He added that no mention had been made in the Privy Council of the need for a consultation with Dr. Luther; that it may very well have previously been expedient to confer with that man of the cloth, given his intercession on Kohlhaas’ behalf, but not now, after having publicly broken the amnesty, having him arrested, and extraditing him for judgment and execution by the Brandenburg High Court of Law. To which the Elector replied that the Prince’s blunder in having sent off Eibenmayer was, in fact, not so serious. In the meantime, he asked that the barrister hold off until further notice on taking any action in his capacity as prosecutor in Vienna, and he, therefore, bid the Prince immediately dispatch a messenger to Vienna to communicate his wishes. To which the Prince replied that this order, alas, came one day too late, in that, according to a report received this very day, Eibenmayer had already appeared in court and proceeded with the presentation of his case before the Vienna State Chancellery. In answer to the Elector’s stunned question as to how all this could have happened in such a short time, the Prince added that three weeks had already transpired since Eibenmayer’s departure, and that the jurist had followed his orders not to tarry but to press his case promptly upon his arrival in Vienna. “A delay,” the Prince pointed out, “would in this instance have been all the more embarrassing, since the Brandenburg barrister Zäuner had proved all the more emphatic in pressing charges against Junker Wenzel von Tronka, and had already filed a motion calling for the provisional retrieval of the nags from the horse skinner for the purpose of their restitution, and, all objections notwithstanding, had already had the motion sustained. Pulling the bell to call for his servant, the Elector said: “It’s just as well! No matter!” And after plying the Prince with seemingly nonchalant questions: “How do things stand in Dresden otherwise? What happened in my absence?” with a wave of the hand he bid him take his leave, unable to hide his inner turmoil any longer. Later that same day, under the pretense of wanting to weigh the matter himself on account of its political implications, he asked for the entire dossier concerning Kohlhaas; and since he could not bear the thought of hastening the demise of the one individual able to reveal the secret of that slip, he drafted a personal appeal to the Emperor in which he begged him in an emotional and urgent tone, for pressing reasons he would perhaps elaborate upon shortly, to be allowed until further notice to withdraw the suit which Eibenmayer brought on Saxony’s behalf against Kohlhaas. In a note drafted by the State Chancellery, the Emperor replied that the Elector’s seeming sudden change of heart surprised him greatly; that the report made to him by Saxony had turned the matter of Kohlhaas into an affair of concern to the entire Holy Roman Empire; that, therefore, he, the Emperor, as the highest civic authority, felt compelled to pursue the prosecution of this case before the House of Brandenburg; to which end the Court Assessor Franz Müller had already left for Berlin in his capacity as imperial advocate to bring justice to bear on Kohlhaas for cross-border incursions and transgression of the peace, wherefore Saxony’s official complaint could no longer be revoked and the matter would have to be followed through to its end according to the laws of the realm. This written reply greatly distressed the Elector; and since, shortly thereafter, a confidential letter arrived from Berlin, announcing the start of the legal proceedings in the State Supreme Court, and noting that despite all the efforts of the attorney assigned to Kohlhaas to press his defense, he would likely end up on the gallows – the disconsolate Elector decided to make one last attempt to intercede, and sent a personal appeal to the Elector of Brandenburg asking him to spare the horse trader’s life. He pretended that the amnesty granted this man effectively precluded his execution; assured His Lordship that, despite the seeming stringency of Saxony’s pursuit of the case against him, it was never his intention to let him die; and emphasized how distressed he would be if Brandenburg’s assurance of Kohlhaas’ protection made in support of their call for his extradition for judgment in Berlin were, by an unexpected turn of events, to prove more detrimental than had the case been decided according to Saxon law. The Elector of Brandenburg, to whom this statement of the Saxon head of state seemed somewhat ambiguous and unclear, replied that, in accordance with the dictates of imperial law, the emphatic nature of the case as presented by His I
mperial Majesty’s attorney made it absolutely impossible for him to grant His Lordship’s wish to deviate from the severity of judgment. He remarked that the concern expressed by His Lordship struck him as inconsistent with the fact that the case against Kohlhaas for crimes committed during his amnesty had, after all, not been pursued by the same authority that accorded the amnesty, but rather by His Imperial Majesty, who could by no means be held accountable to its terms at the State Supreme Court in Berlin. He furthermore impressed upon him the absolute necessity of a public execution as exemplary deterrent, given the continuation of Nagelschmidt’s cross-border atrocities, perpetrated with ever more brazen audacity, some on Brandenburg soil, and bid His Lordship, should he nevertheless not wish to take into account all of the aforementioned factors, appeal directly to His Imperial Majesty, since a peremptory order of a pardon for Kohlhaas could only come from him. Overcome by grief and anger at all of these failed attempts, the Elector of Saxony once again fell sick; and when the Lord Chamberlain visited him one morning, the ailing Elector showed him the letters he had had sent to the Viennese and Berlin courts to try and keep Kohlhaas alive at least long enough for him to get his hands on the slip of paper. Falling to his knees before His Lordship, the Lord Chamberlain begged, in the name of everything sacred and dear to him, that he tell him what was written on it. The Elector said to lock the door and sit down on the bed; and, after reaching for his hand and pressing it to his heart with a sigh, he began: “Your wife, I believe, has already told you that on the third day of my meeting with the Elector of Brandenburg in Jüterbock, he and I happened upon an old gypsy woman; and since in discussion at the midday table jesting mention was made of this strange woman’s reputation, the Elector of Brandenburg, enlightened as he is by nature, decided to show her up for a fraud by means of a public prank: with this in mind he walked up to her table at the marketplace with folded arms and demanded as a proof of the verity of the fortune she was about to tell him, a sign to be tested this very day, professing that, even if she were the Roman Sybil herself, he would not otherwise believe her words. Measuring us with a quick look from head to foot, the woman said: ‘The sign will be that the big horned roe-buck the gardener’s son raised in the park will come bounding toward us in the marketplace before you leave.’ Now you must know that this fine buck destined for my table in Dresden was kept under lock and key in a high, gated enclosure in the castle park shaded by oak trees, and that, moreover, on account of the other smaller game and fowl stocked there too, the park as well as the garden leading to it were always kept locked tight, consequently it was absolutely inconceivable that this creature would, as foretold, come charging toward us at the spot where we stood; nevertheless, concerned lest the gypsy pull a fast one behind our backs, the Elector after briefly conferring with me, firmly resolved, for the sake of a lark, to upstage any of her tricks, and sent word to the castle ordering that the roe-buck be slaughtered on the spot and dressed for our dinner table the next day. Hereupon he turned back to the woman, in front of whom the entire matter was loudly discussed, and said: ‘Now then! What can you reveal about my future?’ Peering at his palm, the woman said: ‘Hail, my Lord Elector! Your Grace will reign for a long time, the house from which you come will long endure, and your descendants will be great and splendid to look upon, and will grow mighty before all princes and lords of this world!’ After a moment of silence, during which he cast a thoughtful look at the woman, he muttered, taking a step toward me, that he was almost sorry to have sent a messenger to make light of this prophecy; and while the knights in his entourage poured money into the woman’s lap, cheering all the while, he asked her, reaching into his own pocket and adding a gold piece to the pile, if the fortune she held in store for me had such a silvery jingle as his. After opening a box that stood beside her and painstakingly ordering the money by currency and denomination, and once again closing and locking the box, she shaded her face from the sun as if it were a burden to her, and looked me in the eye; and when I repeated the question, and jokingly whispered to the Elector as she studied my palm: ‘It looks to me like the old biddy has nothing pleasant to report!’ she reached for her crutch, slowly raised herself from the stool, leaned close to me with curiously outstretched hands and whispered in my ear: ‘No!’ ‘So,’ I said, sorely upset, taking a step back, as she sank down onto the stool, flashing me a blank, cold, lifeless look, as though out of marble eyes, ‘From whence is my house threatened?’ Taking up a lump of charcoal and a slip of paper and crossing her legs, she asked: ‘Shall I write it down?’ And since, at a loss for words, and under the circumstances, not knowing what else to say, I replied: ‘Yes! Do that!’ she countered: ‘Very well then! Three things I will write down for you: the name of the last reigning lord of your house, the year he will forfeit his realm, and the name of he who will take it from him by force of arms.’ Having done so in full view of everyone, she rose from her stool, sealed the slip with lacquer which she wetted with her parched lips and pressed upon it a leaden signet ring she wore on her middle finger. And seeing how I, as you can well imagine, with a burning curiosity more powerful than words can describe, sought to grab that slip of paper from her hand, she said: ‘Not so fast, Milord!’ And, turning, she raised a crutch in the air and pointed: ‘From that man over there with the feathered hat, standing on the bench at the portal to the church behind the crowd, from him will you redeem that slip of paper, if it please, Sir.’ And before I fathomed what she’d said, she left me standing there, stunned and speechless; no sooner had she shut the box behind her and hoisted it on her back, than she disappeared in the crowd that surrounded us. At that very moment, to my great relief, the knight whom the Elector had sent back to the castle returned and reported with a broad smile that the roe-buck had been slaughtered and in his presence carried by two hunters into the kitchen. Gaily grasping my arm with the intention of leading me away, His Lordship, the Elector of Brandenburg, said: ‘See there! So the old biddy’s prophecy was nothing but a common swindle not worth the time and money it cost us!’ But imagine our amazement, even as he uttered these words, when a cry rose around us in the marketplace, and all eyes turned to a huge hunting dog that came trotting toward us from the castle, where, in the kitchen, it had sunk its fangs into the roe-buck’s neck, and, chased by servants and scullery maids, finally let go not more than three paces in front of us: such that the old woman’s prophecy was, in fact, fulfilled, and although already dead, the roebuck had come bounding toward us. A bolt of lightning that strikes on a white winter day could have been no more devastating to me at that moment than the sight of that buck, and as soon as I’d broken free of the crowd my very first thought was to seek out the man with the feather hat whom the old woman had pointed out; but even after three days’ search, none of my people managed to bring me back any word of his whereabouts; and now, friend Kunz, just a few weeks ago at the dairy farm in Dahme I saw the man with my own eyes.” And with that, he let his Lord Chamberlain’s hand drop; and wiping the sweat from his brow, sank back onto his pillow. Sir Kunz, who deemed it futile to try and fathom and confirm His Lordship’s take on this incident, or to dissuade him from it, urged him to try by whatever means to acquire that slip of paper, and thereafter to leave the poor wretch to his fate; to which, however, the Elector replied that he simply could not think of any way to go about it, even though the very thought of foregoing this last chance and of seeing the secret disappear with the man brought him to the brink of madness and despair. In answer to his friend’s question of whether he had made any attempts to find the old gypsy woman, the Elector replied that, pursuant to an order he had issued under false pretext, the constabulary had sought in vain to this very day to find either hide or hair of the woman anywhere in the land: whereby, for reasons he refused to elaborate, he doubted she could be tracked down anywhere in Saxony. Now it just so happened that the Lord Chamberlain expressed a sudden desire to travel to Berlin, with the express purpose of tending to several considerably large properties that his
wife had recently inherited from the deposed and, shortly thereafter, deceased Arch-Chancellor, Count Kallheim; and seeing as he was indeed deeply devoted to the Elector, he asked him after a moment’s reflection, if His Lordship would give him a free hand in this matter; whereupon the Elector pressed the Lord Chamberlain’s hand to his heart and said: “Put yourself in my place and get me that slip of paper!” And so, after attending to a few pressing matters of business, he moved up the date of his departure and, leaving his wife behind, set off for Berlin accompanied only by a few servants.