Write a detailed commentary on Friedrich von Homburg, Act 4 sc.4, ll.1331-1394 (Papier und Feder, Wachs und Petschaft mir! to scene end)

At first sight, taken in isolation, this scene appears to focus on the relationship between the Prince and Natalie, the only significant speaking characters in it, as she visits him in his prison cell. However, the only physical demonstration of romantic love is the brief kiss she gives him with her penultimate speech, presented far from tenderly as an exclamatory command: ‘Nimm diesen Kuß!’ (1385). Their dialogue deals with the question of the Prince having his execution, due the next day, repealed. The scene is thus emotive, portraying the two characters’ individual character traits in their responses. The commentary that follows will deal in equal measure with the Prince and Natalie, as their personal styles of reaction in this tense, frantic context are illustrated as contrasts that lend both their roles significance. From the outset, stylistic distinctions need to be highlighted. This will be done by first considering the metre in which the scene is presented as a singular, unified element, before turning to focus on each of the characters and the key themes they represent: the Prince, embodying division and complexity of personal identity; and Natalie, representing strength in the face of adversity and attempting to reconfigure communicative dynamics.
Metrically, this passage is typical of the play, composed in the iambic pentameter, each line being decasyllabic. This symbolises the rigidity of convention in which the characters function: if all that is presented is a series of symmetrical lines, speaking them would seem like imprisonment. Strikingly, their tonal delivery underlines how both the Prince – who is physically imprisoned – and Natalie – who strives to “release” the Prince, literally and metaphorically – are more powerful dramatic characters than the poetic metre can constrain. Punctuation is a device consistently deployed to appropriately interrupt the rhythm, vary the dynamics, and de-poeticise the passage. Exclamations are especially frequent, starting with the first line of the passage, where the Prince calls for his writing materials without delay, each time signalling conviction on the part of the speaking character. All but three of Natalie’s speeches contain exclamations, indicating her strength of character on the one hand and the tension she injects into the scene on the other. The three exceptions all represent interrogation, symbolised by another appropriate punctuation mark: ‘Was sagst du?’ (1360), ‘Gleichviel?’ (1373), and ‘Du ungeheuerster, ich glaub, du schriebst?’ indicate her disbelief at the Prince’s communication in his letter – and not explicit in the play. Thus, we are reminded that there is more to the acts of communication at the heart of this passage than the metre and even the stage directions convey. Both characters punctuate the traditional Classical form with the Romantic problem of individual conviction at odds with society. Frequent further punctuation – dashes, colons and semi-colons, as well as the pause in l.1336 – necessitates variation in pitch or tempo to convey the heightened emotion that distinguishes this passage from previous scenes (Act III, scene i onwards). Then, the Prince’s false assumptions about the Kurfürst’s motive for imprisoning him were also met with disbelief – but not with the inescapable confrontation and demands for immediate response provided in this passage by Natalie and her emphasis on the lack of time. Significantly, the use of a comma to form a symmetrical caesura at the syllabic centre of several of Natalie’s lines in her longest speech contrasts with the aforementioned disruptive punctuation. Natalie’s evenly punctuated, fluent style thematises her clarity of insight and persistence in endeavouring to persuade the Prince to seek his pardon, even given his uncooperative behaviour ‘Die Regung lob ich, die dein Herz ergriff’ (1364) and the sheer horror of the impending situation ‘Aus Karabinern, überm Grabeshügel’ (1365). This even tone is exceptional, though: the marriage between style and content is cemented by disruption in many of the other lines, marked by frequent short questions and responses, prompting and prompted by the longer speeches, and conveying tensions between the incompatibilities of the Prince’s mindset with the mindsets of Natalie and those who have passed judgement on him. Yet, even the prosaic words and phrases are integral to the decasyllabic blank verse (hence the line numbering) provided they are spoken quickly, as the tension of the scene demands, by two performers in vocal harmony, which Kleist’s use of repetition invites – for example, ‘Gleichviel!/ Gleichviel?/ Er handle, wie er darf’ (1372).
The passage opens deceptively: the Prince orders a servant to bring him stationery so that he can write back to the Kurfürst, but he does not do so of his own volition. The Prince proves himself neither a great commander nor skilful in writing; and, as the scene progresses, he presents himself as being far from resolved to simply accept the pardon. We note that Natalie is on the verge of anger at the start of this passage, having just implored the Prince to accept the Kurfürst’s pardon by confirming his innocence: ‘Schreibt, wenn Ihr mich nicht böse machen wollt!’ (1330). Natalie’s strength of character is exposed partly through her own convictions, as she took the initiative to seek justice for the Prince, but also significantly by the Prince’s relative weaknesses in following her prompt to write to her father only after she has repeatedly urged him. Her efforts are persistent, whereas the Prince’s behaviour is unexpected and unpredictable. In the play as a whole, the Prince is the protagonist as the central character (although he is all too often overpowered and undermined); within this passage, he is the antagonist, complicating matters and reacting adversely to Natalie’s and the Kurfürst’s initiative. Banished from the battlefield, he now holds one small weapon: his pen, a metaphor for his masculinity, as the strokes he deploys with it, along with the sealing of the letter will seal his fate.
Natalie’s role is demanding for the performer and is brought to life for the reader by Kleist’s stage directions. These also guide our reactions to the Prince: she is ‘gerührt’ (1359), as are we, by his intimation that he will not protest his innocence by accepting the Kurfürst’s pardon as he regards his death sentence as a just punishment. She then finds his delay in choosing his phrasing ‘schmerzvoll’ (1361) as the hour of his supposed execution approaches; and she is ‘erschrocken’ (1375) when, with his – and the play’s – typical ambiguity, he completes his letter without revealing its contents. Her role as the conduit between her father and the Prince is also commanding in driving the plot forward. Without her persuading these masculine figures (elsewhere in the play associated with military command), where would the Prince be? Not prone to romantic reverie towards her, not impelled to charge onto the battlefield, and thus not condemned to death, let alone faced with the choice laid bare here between legitimising his death and overruling it. She cannot fathom his ambiguities and ultimately fails to manipulate his motivation for the repeal that she nevertheless persuades him to seek. She urges the Prince to respond to her father immediately, directing the frantic pace of the play by provoking frustration separately in both of their attitudes: early in the passage, they each turn away from the other (the Prince speaks ‘in den Bart’ 1332; Natalie ‘für sich’, 1338). This emphasises how disharmony results from a lack of face-to-face communication – a significant message Kleist conveys with the play as a whole in its treatment of divisions between social structures (family, country, regiment) to which an individual must allocate loyalties. In her most substantial speech (1361-72), Natalie raises the very awareness the Prince lacks that time is running out before his death is delivered. Her imagery details explicitly and insightfully the frightening scene threatening to await: ‘das Regiment / Ist kommandiert, das dir Versenktem morgen, / Aus Karabinern, überm Grabeshügel, Versöhnt die Totenfeier halten soll’ (1363-66). Here, as well as displaying foresight about military operations, she is haunted by the vision of the Prince’s open grave, an image that finally rubs off on the Prince now that it has been presented so eloquently, as we are reminded when he visits this grave for himself in Act V, Scene vi. Moreover, at the end of this passage and scene, she, a civilian, issues a command as determined as a soldier’s, sending Graf Reuß to deliver the Prince’s message and ordering the regiment back that night. The passage/ scene thus concludes by pre-empting movement and focus on a wider social context than the two characters we have encountered in one bare room here, making the transition to the presentation of a different setting and characters in Act V smooth and swift. Natalie’s bold and resolute communication is responsible for this. She has already guided the Prince towards formulating a logical response to the Kurfürst’s letter – ‘Tun, wie ers hier in diesem Brief verlangt’ (1369); but her efforts have been hampered by the Prince’s own resolution to put perceived duty before compromise. She is not presented as unequivocally succeeding in her endeavours because she has not been assigned an equivalent socially-directed duty or hierarchical position to the Prince’s: such was the sexual inequality of the age, persisting into Kleist’s time.
Whereas Natalie comes into her own here, the Prince is his usual confused and confusing self. Natalie’s strength in a male-dominated world is as much relative, given the Prince’s flaws, as it is absolute in the coherence of her actions. He seeks to draft his response to the Kurfürst in line with his misguided sense of composure of character, as the repeated notion of Fassung highlights. His composure is a problem under review, as he rejects ‘Eines Schuftes Fassung’ (1334) and ponders ‘wie ich mich fassen soll’ (1337). By contrast, the Kurfürst’s Fassung (in the sense of comprehension) is taken for granted, although he is not present in this scene (another instance of disharmony arising when communication is indirect). The Prince considers the Kurfürst’s decision ‘Recht, wie ein großes Herz sich fassen muß!’ (1344), and so does Natalie, who assures the Prince ‘Nun so versichr’ ich dich, er faßt sich dir/ Erhaben’ (1371-2). Natalie also displays Fassung in both senses, not quite losing her composure and comprehending the Prince in the judgements she expresses of his character. She labels him ‘Du Unbegreiflicher!’ (1351) when he delays; he promptly changes his mind as a result of her exclaiming ‘Du Rasender!’ (1358) after he has indicated agreement with the Kurfürst’s cause for having him executed. By writing his life away, however, he becomes superlatively for Natalie ‘Du Ungeheuerster’ (1375). The Prince’s inability to accept a straightforward resolution to his predicament is a significant source of drama. He cannot simply ink two words of consent beneath a letter: his call for ‘Papier und Feder, Wachs und Petschaft’ (1331) signals a laborious (somewhat impotent) process. We expect this from one who – extending the phallic metaphor of the pen – now senses his impulsive, premature potency on the battlefield was inappropriate and who, far from being resolute and disciplined, is prone to daydreaming (e.g. in Act I, Scene i) but takes no opportunity when Natalie visits to develop his romance.
After the Prince’s disobedient leadership on the battlefield has resulted in the death penalty, this passage presents him as an obedient follower. His obligation to the sovereign state of Prussia is underlined time and time again by his words, e.g. ‘Mir ziemts hier zu verfahren, wie ich soll!’ (1374). He cannot simply agree to a pardon because this would render him ‘eines Schuftes … keines Prinzen’ (1334). A prince, however honourable, is merely a leader-in-waiting; a ‘Schuft’, however, displays intolerably dishonourable leadership in disobeying orders. As well as choosing between leading and following, the Prince also decides to act more as a soldier, by pledging loyalty to his masculine, military instincts, and less as a lover, as he does not follow Natalie’s wishes for reconciliation with her father. Repeatedly assessing the Kurfürst as ‘würdig'(1342 & 1349) and himself as ‘ein Unwürdger’ (1350), the Prince is driven by ‘Schuld’, which ‘ruht, bedeutende, mir auf der Brust’ (1351). This is paradoxical: how can such a lack of self-esteem amount to honour or dignity? At best, we can define the Prince as being in a state of transition, as he portrays himself in the symbolic act of redrafting his letter: ‘Ich denk mir eine andre Wendung aus’ (1335). With such a lack of sovereignty over his self-image, the Prince leaves our sovereign judgement of his behaviour in a state of perpetual suspense! In real historical terms, his mentality had proved futile by 1810 when Kleist wrote the play, as victory over Sweden at Fehrbellin in 1675 was now overshadowed by the fall of the Holy Roman Empire in 1806. The Prince’s ‘wie ich soll’ is as resonant now as ever, a timeless reaction to fatal decisions from figures in authority who justify their deeds merely as being “the right thing to do”. Yet, the only life in the balance, or potential casualty of warfare, to matter in this play is the Prince himself!
The two letters are highly significant devices in this scene: neither one is “held up” to scrutiny by being presented in full. Pauses (1332, 1336), concealments (‘zerreißt und unter den Tisch wirft’, 1332; ‘legt den Brief weg’, 1350) and attempts by each character to snatch the letter from the other (1334, 1359) are tantalising for the audience, too, as the letters are two of very few props in the prison cell. The other prominent items, the table, chair, ‘Feder, Wachs und Petschaft’, all elevate the significance of the letters, which symbolise the potentially fatal lack of transparency and agreement in communicative exchange throughout this play, characteristic of the insecurities of war rather than peace or reconciliation. The table and chair also enable the Prince to demonstrably move up and down according to the dynamics of his physical and emotional energies. When seated, he positions his face and body over an object (the table occupying substantial physical space) and away from Natalie and the audience — as after l. 1357: ‘Er läßt sich mit verschränkten Armen wieder an den Tisch nieder und sieht in den Brief’, underlining his disproportionate devotion to impersonal written communication in Natalie’s presence.
The Prince’s humility, bound up with his Prussian sense of honour, can also be taken as a humanitarian appeal to the Kurfürst if the choice of verb ‘streiten’ in his remark ‘kann er mir / Vergeben nur, wenn ich mit ihm drum streite’ (1382-83) implies a challenge by legal (and thus honourable) means. However, less favourable interpretations are possible. ‘Streiten’ is negative, conveying dispute not harmony, and here it is coupled with the multiple meanings of the Kurfürst’s ‘Gnade’ – about which the Prince wishes to know ‘nichts’ – a noun that might just as well refer to a vague perception of the Kurfürst’s grace (or favourable disposition) as to the specific pardon. The Prince’s last speech in this scene is a masterpiece of German blank verse and a challenge to anyone translating it into modern prose or English. While many of Natalie’s comments are timelessly unambiguous, once again, the Prince’s lack of transparency and his tendency towards complication prevail in his verbal signals, just as they do in his behaviour.
In historical terms, both characters are “out of time” as far as Classicism and Enlightenment thinking are concerned, and they convey this metaphorically in their behaviour. Natalie is motivated by the urgency of saving the Prince’s threatened life at what she perceives – and he fails to see – as the last moment. She believes a rational response to the Kurfürst, ‘wie ers … verlangt’ (1369) will save the day, but this is only partly an enlightened view, as she is calling here for a variation on the theme of obedience to authority, not a deviation, by ingeniously persuading her father to revise his reaction to the Prince. The Prince, nevertheless, thinks otherwise, and she cannot acknowledge his fundamental complexity of character which has resulted inevitably in a muddled response that reverts to an unenlightened, duty-bound admission of guilt that destroys any notion of Classical heroism she has already undermined by her dominance in driving the scene forward. The Prince’s unheeded request to her, ‘Laß, einen Augenblick! Mir scheint -‘ (1359) is especially resonant in its qualified style: both characters perform on impulse, according to what seems most honourable at the time, without enquiring into more profound psychological motivations. This shortcoming is all the more evident when we compare literature of the Romantic movement.
All in all, this passage reaches one point of conclusion: the Prince will evidently not consent to his execution. Nevertheless, given his erratic responses, the fundamental problem of the play (for characters and audience alike) of how the Prince should be accommodated in society remains unresolved. We await in Act V the responses of his military colleagues and superiors, with every sense that his erratic behaviour will bring about further twists and turns in the plot. This passage is a microcosm of the play as a whole, ‘a deliberate deviation from conventional historical and heroic drama’ (Garland, 1997, 668), which we associate with the Classical tradition, pointing towards Romanticism. Romantic traits include not only the haunting imagery of death prefigured and its effects upon a troubled central character whose state of mind is at odds with the realities around him, but also the effects so prominent in this passage of a strong female presence upon this character.