In the stress of the times and in spite of the most strenuous efforts, the Phoebus went under with the first volume, and the publishing business was a total wreck.  Kleist’s joy at the acceptance of The Broken Jug by Goethe for the Weimar theatre was turned to bitterness when, because of unintelligent acting and stage management, this brilliant comedy failed wretchedly; the disappointed author held Goethe responsible for this fiasco and foolishly attacked him in a series of spiteful epigrams.  He longed to have his Arminius performed at Vienna, but the Austrian authorities were too timid to risk the production of a play that openly preached German unity and a war of revenge against the “Roman tyranny” of Napoleon.  Kleist then turned to lyric poetry and polemic tirades for the expression of his patriotic ardor.  When Austria rose against Napoleon, he started for the seat of war and was soon the happy eye-witness of the Austrian victory at Aspern, in May, 1809.  In Prague, with the support of the commandant, he planned a patriotic journal, for which he immediately wrote a series of glowing articles, mostly in the form of political satires.  This plan was wrecked by the decisive defeat of the Austrians at Wagram in July.

Broken by these successive disasters, Kleist again fell seriously ill; for four months his friends had no word from him, and reports of his death were current.  In November, 1809, he came to Frankfort-on-the-Oder to dispose of his share in the family home as a last means of raising funds, and again disappeared.  In January, 1810, he passed through Frankfort on the way to Berlin, to which the Prussian court, now subservient to Napoleon, had returned.  He found many old friends in Berlin, and even had prospects of recognition from the court, as the brave and beautiful Queen Louise was very kindly disposed toward him.  Again he turned to dramatic production, and in the patriotic Prussian play, Prince Frederick of Homburg, created his masterpiece.  Fortune seemed once more to be smiling upon the dramatist; the Prince of Homburg was to be dedicated to Queen Louise, and performed privately at the palace of Prince Radziwill, before being given at the National Theatre.  But again the cup of success was dashed from the poet’s lips.  With the death of Queen Louise, in July, 1810, he lost his only powerful friend at court, and now found it impossible to get a hearing for his drama.

[Illustration:  SARCOPHAGUS OF QUEEN LOUISE IN THE MAUSOLEUM AT CHARLOTTENBURG Sculptor, Christian Rauch]

Other disappointments came in rapid succession. Kitty of Heilbronn, performed after many delays at Vienna, was not a success, and Iffland, the popular dramatist and director of the Berlin Theatre, rejected this play, while accepting all manner of commonplace works by inferior authors.  The famous publisher Cotta did print Penthesilea, but was so displeased with it that he made no effort to sell the edition,