The Marquise of O and Other Stories E-Book

Heinrich Von Kleist

• Herausgeber: Lebooks Editora
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 201

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

The Marquise of O and Other Stories by Heinrich von Kleist brings together tales that explore the tensions between desire, morality, and fate, framed in the intense and enigmatic style of the early 19th-century German author. The story that gives the volume its title, "The Marquise of O" (1808), presents a respectable widow who, after a mysterious wartime event, discovers she is pregnant without recalling having been intimate with anyone. The scandal surrounding her condition triggers a conflict between honor, truth, and social perception, as the protagonist seeks to understand what happened and defend her dignity against suspicion. Alongside this story, the volume often includes other equally powerful tales, such as "Saint Crispin and Saint Crispinian", which satirizes social classes and popular cunning; "The Earthquake in Chile", depicting how a natural disaster disrupts human relationships and challenges the fragility of moral order; and "The Duel", focusing on obsession with honor and the violent resolution of conflicts. Each story combines extreme situations with ethical dilemmas, placing characters in circumstances that force them to confront hidden passions and internal contradictions. Kleist's narrative is characterized by tense pacing, direct dialogue, and unexpected twists that break reader expectations and place them in an ambiguous realm where rationality coexists with irrationality. His stories reflect a worldview in which chance and fate play decisive roles, challenging established norms and showing how life can change radically in an instant. Heinrich von Kleist (1777–1811) was one of the great storytellers and playwrights of German Romanticism. His work, often marked by emotional intensity and reflection on human destiny, influenced subsequent generations of European writers. In The Marquise of O and Other Stories, he offers a mosaic of tales that, beyond their historical context, continue to question readers about the fragility of morality, the power of desire, and the unpredictability of life.

Leseprobe

Heirinch von Kleist

THE MARQUISE OF O AND OTHER STORIES

Contents

INTRODUCTION

THE MARQUISE OF O

ST. CECILIA or THE POWER OF MUSIC

THE BETROTHAL IN SANTO DOMINGO

THE FOUNDLING

THE DUEL

INTRODUCTION

Heinrich von Kleist

1777–1811

Heinrich von Kleist was a German playwright, narrator, and poet, considered one of the most original and controversial figures in early 19th-century German literature. His work, marked by emotional intensity, paradox, and the exploration of human conflict, departs from the classicism of his time and anticipates themes that would influence late Romanticism and Modernism. Although not fully recognized during his lifetime, today he is regarded as one of the great innovators of German literature.

Childhood and Education

Born in Frankfurt (Oder), Kleist came from a Prussian aristocratic family with a military tradition. In his youth, he joined the Prussian army, participating in military campaigns, but he soon became disillusioned with military life. He studied mathematics, philosophy, and law at the University of Viadrina, though his true passion was literature and philosophical thought. From an early age, he exhibited a restless, intellectual, and tormented temperament.

Career and Contributions

Kleist developed a brief but intense literary oeuvre. Among his most notable plays are The Schroffenstein Family (1803), Penthesilea (1808), The Prince of Homburg (1810), and Kätchen of Heilbronn (1810). His dramas are characterized by extreme tension, the conflict between passion and duty, and the exploration of irrational behavior in humans.

In addition to his plays, he wrote stories now considered masterpieces of German narrative, such as Michael Kohlhaas (1810), a tale of justice and vengeance, and The Marquise of O… (1808), which addresses themes of honor, violence, and morality in an innovative narrative style. His prose, full of paradoxes and unexpected turns, reveals the psychological complexity of his characters.

Impact and Legacy

During his life, Kleist faced great difficulties in gaining recognition. His style, too intense and disconcerting for contemporary tastes, led to misunderstanding and rejection. However, later writers and critics, including Thomas Mann, Franz Kafka, and Heinrich Heine, recognized him as a precursor of Modernism and a master of dramatic and narrative tension.

Today, his work is valued for its originality, its exploration of the tragic and absurd, and its ability to portray human existential dilemmas. His plays continue to be performed, and his stories are studied as central works of German literature.

Kleist’s life was marked by instability and inner torment. In 1811, together with his friend Henriette Vogel, he decided to end his life in a suicide pact on the shores of the Wannsee, near Berlin. He was only 34 years old.

Despite his tragic end and lack of recognition during his lifetime, Heinrich von Kleist occupies a central place in the German and European literary canon. His intense and visionary work continues to captivate through the depth of its moral conflicts, the strength of its language, and the modernity of its ideas.

About the Work

The Marquise of O and Other Stories by Heinrich von Kleist brings together tales that explore the tensions between desire, morality, and fate, framed in the intense and enigmatic style of the early 19th-century German author. The story that gives the volume its title, “The Marquise of O” (1808), presents a respectable widow who, after a mysterious wartime event, discovers she is pregnant without recalling having been intimate with anyone. The scandal surrounding her condition triggers a conflict between honor, truth, and social perception, as the protagonist seeks to understand what happened and defend her dignity against suspicion.

Alongside this story, the volume often includes other equally powerful tales, such as “Saint Crispin and Saint Crispinian”, which satirizes social classes and popular cunning; “The Earthquake in Chile”, depicting how a natural disaster disrupts human relationships and challenges the fragility of moral order; and “The Duel”, focusing on obsession with honor and the violent resolution of conflicts. Each story combines extreme situations with ethical dilemmas, placing characters in circumstances that force them to confront hidden passions and internal contradictions.

Kleist’s narrative is characterized by tense pacing, direct dialogue, and unexpected twists that break reader expectations and place them in an ambiguous realm where rationality coexists with irrationality. His stories reflect a worldview in which chance and fate play decisive roles, challenging established norms and showing how life can change radically in an instant.

Heinrich von Kleist (1777–1811) was one of the great storytellers and playwrights of German Romanticism. His work, often marked by emotional intensity and reflection on human destiny, influenced subsequent generations of European writers. In The Marquise of O and Other Stories, he offers a mosaic of tales that, beyond their historical context, continue to question readers about the fragility of morality, the power of desire, and the unpredictability of life.

THE MARQUISE OF O

Upon hearing this news, the Elector's condition deteriorated so severely that, for three fateful days, the doctor feared for his life, as he was suffering from so many simultaneous ailments. Nevertheless, thanks to his naturally robust health, after lying on a sickbed for several painful weeks, he recovered sufficiently to be placed in a carriage, surrounded by pillows and blankets, and taken back to Dresden to attend to his affairs. Upon arrival, he summoned Prince Christiern von Meissen and inquired about the progress of the preparations for Eibenmayer's departure. They had decided to send Eibenmayer to Vienna as their representative in the Kohlhaas affair to present their complaint to his Imperial Majesty regarding Kohlhaas's violation of the peace of the Empire. The prince replied that, in accordance with the elector’s order upon his departure for Dahme, Eibenmayer left for Vienna immediately upon Zäuner's arrival. Zäuner was a jurist whom the elector of Brandenburg sent to Dresden to present his charge against Junker Wenzel von Tronka in the matter of the black horses. The elector, flushing and walking over to his desk, expressed surprise at this haste. To the best of his knowledge, he had made it clear that he wanted Eibenmayer's departure delayed until after a consultation with Dr. Luther. At Luther's request, Kohlhaas had been granted amnesty, and the elector would then have issued more precise orders. He shuffled some correspondence and documents lying on his desk with an air of suppressed anger. After a pause during which he stared at the Elector in amazement, the Prince said he was sorry if he had incurred his displeasure in this matter. However, he could show him the written decision of the State Council ordering him to dispatch the attorney at the aforementioned time. He added that the Council had made no mention of consulting Dr. Luther. Earlier, it might have been useful to consider the views of this man of God, given his intervention on Kohlhaas’s behalf. However, this was no longer the case now that the amnesty had been publicly violated, the horsedealer had been arrested, and he had been handed over to the Brandenburg courts for judgment and execution. The Elector said that sending off Eibenmayer was not a very grave mistake, but for now, he did not want the attorney to open any proceedings against Kohlhaas in Vienna. He requested that the Prince send a dispatch rider to him at once with instructions to that effect. The prince replied that, unfortunately, this order came a day too late. According to a report he had just received, Eibenmayer had already begun legal action and presented his complaint to the state chancellery in Vienna. "How," asked the Elector in dismay, "was this possible in so short a time?" The prince answered that three weeks had passed since Eibenmayer left and that he was instructed to prosecute the affair with all possible speed as soon as he reached Vienna. He added that any delay in this case would have been improper, given the stubborn persistence with which the Brandenburg attorney, Zäuner, was pressing the charges against Junker Wenzel von Tronka. Zäuner had already applied to the court for an order to provisionally remove the black horses from the knacker's hands with the intention of restoring them to health. Despite objections from the other side, the court had ordered it.

The elector rang the bell, remarking that it was of no consequence. Then, after turning to the prince and asking him about various indifferent matters, such as what was happening in Dresden and what had occurred during his absence, the elector motioned to the prince and dismissed him. However, he could not conceal his feelings. On the same day, he asked for the entire Kohlhaas file in writing, pretexting that he wished to work on the case personally due to its political importance. As he could not bear to contemplate the destruction of the one man from whom he could discover the mysterious message on the piece of paper, he wrote a letter to the Emperor in his own hand, imploring him with heartfelt urgency. He hoped that he would soon be able to give a clearer account of the weighty reasons for which he was asking the Emperor to grant him leave to withdraw the charge brought by Eibenmayer against Kohlhaas, provisionally, until a further decision could be reached. Through his Chancellery of State, the Emperor sent a note replying that he was astonished by the sudden change in the Elector’s attitude, and that the report submitted by Saxony had made the Kohlhaas affair a matter concerning the entire Holy Roman Empire. Accordingly, he saw it as his duty to appear as the accuser before the House of Brandenburg. Since he had already sent Court Assessor Franz Müller to Berlin to act as his prosecutor and bring charges against Kohlhaas for breaching the public peace, he could not withdraw the charges. The matter would have to proceed according to law.

The Elector was profoundly upset by this letter. When private reports from Berlin began to reach him, indicating that the trial in the High Court had begun and forecasting that, despite the efforts of his appointed advocate, Kohlhaas would probably be executed, the unhappy prince decided to make one more attempt. He wrote a personal letter to the Elector of Brandenburg, begging him to spare the horse dealer’s life. He argued that the amnesty guaranteed to Kohlhaas made it improper to carry out a death sentence; assured the Elector that, despite the severity of the proceedings in Saxony, he never intended to have Kohlhaas executed; and described how inconsolable he would be if Berlin's protection turned out to be more disadvantageous than Saxon law. To the Elector of Brandenburg, much of this account seemed ambiguous and obscure. He answered that the zeal with which the attorney of his Imperial Majesty was conducting the prosecution meant that any deviation from the absolute rigor of the law, as desired by the Elector of Saxony, was out of the question. The Elector of Brandenburg remarked that the Elector of Saxony's concern was excessive. Although Kohlhaas was on trial in the Berlin High Court for crimes that the amnesty had pardoned, the Elector of Saxony was not his accuser. The amnesty had been proclaimed by the supreme ruler of the Empire, who was not bound by it. He also emphasized the importance of setting an example with Kohlhaas, given Nagelschmidt's ongoing outrages, which had already spread to Brandenburg with unprecedented audacity. He requested that, if these considerations held no weight, the Elector of Saxony appeal to the Emperor himself, as only the Emperor could pardon Kohlhaas.

The Elector fell ill from grief and vexation over these fruitless attempts. When the Chamberlain visited him one morning, the Elector showed him the letters he had sent to Vienna and Berlin in his efforts to prolong Kohlhaas’s life. He hoped to gain time to try to take possession of the paper he carried. The chamberlain fell to his knees and implored the Elector by all that was sacred and dear to him to tell him what was written on the paper. The elector asked the chamberlain to bolt the door and sit on his bed. Then, taking the chamberlain's hand and pressing it to his bosom with a sigh, the elector began the following narrative: "I understand that your wife has already told you how the elector of Brandenburg and I encountered a gypsy woman on the third day of our meeting at Jüterbock. Being a man of a lively disposition, the Elector decided to play a joke on this strange woman in public to destroy her reputation for fortune-telling. This had just been the subject of some inappropriate conversation at dinner. Accordingly, he stood with his arms folded by the table where she was sitting and demanded that, if she was going to tell his fortune, she should first give him a sign that could be verified that same day. Otherwise, he said, he would not believe her even if she were the Roman Sibyl herself. After looking us up and down quickly, the woman said the sign would be this: the big, horned roebuck that the gardener’s boy was raising in the park would come to meet us in the marketplace before we left. You must understand that this roebuck was intended for the Dresden court kitchens and was kept under lock and key in an enclosure shaded by oak trees in the park and surrounded by a high wooden fence. Furthermore, the park and the garden leading to it were carefully closed because the enclosure contained other small game and poultry. Therefore, it was impossible to imagine how the roebuck could come to us in the square and fulfill the prophecy. Nevertheless, suspecting a trick, the Elector briefly consulted me. Determined to carry out his joke and discredit anything she might say, he ordered the roebuck slaughtered and prepared for the table the following day. He then turned back to the woman, in front of whom all this had been said aloud, and asked, "Well now! What can you reveal about my future?" Looking into his hand, the woman replied: "Hail, my Lord Elector! Your Highness will rule for many years. The house of your ancestors will flourish for many generations. Your descendants will become great and glorious, achieving power above all the princes and lords of the world!" After looking pensively at the woman for a moment, the Elector stepped back and said in an undertone that he now regretted sending off the messenger who would disprove the prophecy. While the noblemen in his retinue showered money into the woman’s lap with much rejoicing, he asked her if her greeting to me would be equally impressive. He gave her a gold coin from his own pocket as well. After opening a box by her side and slowly sorting the money into it by denomination and quantity, the woman closed the box, held her hand up as if shielding her eyes from the sun, and looked at me. When I repeated the question, I said jokingly to the Elector as she examined my hand: "She doesn't seem to have anything pleasant to tell me!"

She picked up her crutches, slowly pulled herself up from her stool, and came up close to me. With her hands held out mysteriously in front of her, she whispered plainly in my ear, "No!" "Indeed!" I exclaimed, confused, and recoiled from her. She sank back on her stool with a cold, lifeless stare, as if her eyes were those of a marble statue. "And from what quarter does danger threaten my house?" Taking some paper and charcoal, she crossed her knees and asked if I wanted her to write it down. When I answered, "Yes, do that!" because the circumstances left me no choice, she said, "Very well! I shall write down three things for you: the name of the last ruler of your dynasty, the year he will lose his throne, and the name of the man who will seize it by force.” Having done so in front of everyone, she rose to her feet, sealed the paper with glue moistened by her withered lips, and pressed it with a lead signet ring she wore on her middle finger. When I tried to take the paper from her, overcome with curiosity, she exclaimed, "Not so, Your Highness!" She turned around and held up one of her crutches. "That man over there with the plumed hat, standing on a bench in the church doorway behind the crowd, will sell you this piece of paper if you want it!" With that, before I could grasp what she said, she left me speechless, clapped her box shut, slung it over her shoulder, and mingled with the crowd. I saw no more of her. At that moment, much to my relief, the gentleman whom the Elector had sent to the palace reappeared. He informed the Elector with great glee that the roebuck had been slaughtered and dragged into the kitchen by two huntsmen before his eyes. The elector, in high spirits, put his arm through mine to accompany me from the square and said, "There we are, you see! The prophecy was just a common swindle, not worth our time or money!" But you can imagine our consternation when, even as he was speaking, a cry went up around the square. Everyone turned and stared at a huge butcher's dog trotting toward us from the palace courtyard. The dog had seized the roebuck as fair game in the kitchen, its teeth sunk in the animal's neck. Scullions and skivvies were in hot pursuit, but the dog dropped the roebuck just three paces from us. Thus, the woman’s prophecy was indeed fulfilled, and the roebuck, dead though it was, had come to meet us in the market square. This sight struck me with a more deadly blow than a thunderbolt from the winter sky could have. As soon as I was free of the company I had been in, I immediately set about discovering the whereabouts of the man with the plumed hat whom the woman had pointed out to me. But none of my people could find the slightest trace of him, despite searching without pause for three days. Now, my dear friend Kunz, I saw him with my own eyes only a few weeks ago in the farmhouse at Dahme!" Saying this, he dropped the Chamberlain’s hand, wiped the sweat from his brow, and fell back onto his bed.

The Chamberlain saw this incident quite differently but thought it would be a waste of breath to try to persuade the Elector that his view was mistaken. He urged the Elector to try again to find a way to get the paper and then leave the man to his fate. But the Elector replied that no means occurred to him whatsoever, and nevertheless, the thought of not being able to get the paper — or indeed, of seeing all knowledge of its contents perish with the man who had it — tormented him to the point of despair. When his friend asked if attempts had been made to trace the gypsy woman, the Elector answered that he had ordered the government, under a fictitious pretext, to search for her throughout the entire principality. They were still doing so in vain to this day. In any case, he refused to go into the reasons why he doubted she could ever be traced in Saxony. It so happened that the Chamberlain intended to travel to Berlin on business connected with several large properties in Neumark that his wife had inherited from the High Chancellor, Count Kallheim, who had died soon after his dismissal from office. As he was fond of the Elector, he asked, after brief reflection, if he could have a free hand in the matter. His master warmly grasped his hand, pressing it to his heart and saying, "Be as myself in this matter and get me that piece of paper!" The chamberlain then delegated his office affairs, advanced his departure by several days, left his wife behind, and set off for Berlin, accompanied by only a few servants.

Meanwhile, as we mentioned earlier, Kohlhaas had arrived in Berlin. The Elector of Brandenburg had him lodged in a prison for persons of rank, where he and his five children were made as comfortable as possible. Immediately upon the arrival of the Imperial Attorney from Vienna, Kohlhaas was put on trial before the High Court for breaking the peace of the Empire. He objected in his defense, stating that he could not be indicted for the armed invasion of Saxony and the violence that ensued, as the Elector of Saxony had agreed to pardon him for these actions at Lützen. However, he was informed that His Imperial Majesty, represented by the prosecutor in this case, could not take this into consideration. After all this had been explained to him, and he was assured that he would receive full compensation for his case against Junker Wenzel von Tronka in Dresden, he readily accepted the situation. On the day of the Chamberlain’s arrival, the law was pronounced upon Kohlhaas, condemning him to death by beheading. Though lenient, no one believed the sentence would be carried out, given the case's complications. Indeed, the whole of Berlin, knowing the Elector's fondness for Kohlhaas, confidently hoped he would commute the sentence to a long and severe term of imprisonment. Nevertheless, the Chamberlain realized that there might be no time to lose if he were to achieve the task assigned to him by his master, so one morning he clearly and circumstantially revealed himself to Kohlhaas in his ordinary court dress. Kohlhaas stood idly at his prison window, watching the passersby. From the horse-dealer's sudden movement, he concluded that Kohlhaas had noticed him. He also noted with peculiar satisfaction that Kohlhaas had raised his hand to his breast involuntarily, as if to clasp the locket. He surmised what had flashed through Kohlhaas's mind at that moment and decided that this was sufficient preparation for the next step in his attempt to gain possession of the paper. He sent for an old woman — a rag-seller whom he had noticed hobbling on crutches through a crowd of other riffraff on the Berlin streets, plying the same trade — who seemed similar enough in age and dress to the one described by the Elector. Assuming that Kohlhaas would not remember the features of the old woman who had briefly appeared to hand him the piece of paper, he decided to use this other woman in her place, if possible, and have her impersonate the gypsy woman. To prepare her for the role, he recounted in detail everything that had transpired between the Elector and the gypsy woman in Jüterbock. He emphasized the three mysterious items on the paper, as he did not know how much the gypsy had disclosed to Kohlhaas. When he had explained that she must mumble an unintelligible speech conveying that a plan was afoot to obtain this paper by trickery or force, to which the Saxon Court attached extreme importance, he instructed her to ask the horse dealer to return it to her for safekeeping for a few crucial days, since it was no longer safe with him. In return for substantial remuneration, some of which she required the chamberlain to pay in advance, the old rag seller immediately undertook to carry out this task. As she had known the mother of Herse, the groom killed at Mühlberg, for some months, and as this woman was permitted by the authorities to visit Kohlhaas occasionally, she succeeded, a few days later, in bribing the jailer with a small sum and gaining access to the horse dealer.