It is then that the Elector decides to make the Prince himself the judge of his offense, and writes him the following letter: 

  “My Prince of Homburg, when I made you prisoner
  Because of your too premature attack,
  I thought that I was doing what was right—­
  No more; and reckoned on your acquiescence. 
  If you believe that I have been unjust,
  Tell me I beg you in a word or two,
  And forthwith I will send you back your sword.”

He gives this letter to Nathalie for her to deliver to the Prince.  I must set down the words with which she receives the letter: 

  “I do not know and do not seek to know
  What woke your favor, liege, so suddenly. 
  But truly this, I feel this in my heart,
  You would not make ignoble sport of me. 
  The letter hold whate’er it may—­I trust
  That it hold pardon—­and I thank you for it!”

Many another writer would have believed it was not enough for Nathalie to prove herself a heroine, but that she must stride onward with seven league boots and become an Amazon as well.  Kleist, however, had looked deeply into feminine nature, he knew that woman’s greatness only blooms above the abyss, and that she loses her wings the moment that earth again offers her a spot where she can safely and firmly tread.  Nathalie sighs only once:  “Oh what is human greatness, human fame!” But she rejoices when she has the saving letter of the Elector in her possession, and, without troubling herself further about its contents, she hastens, enraptured, to the Prince of Homburg.

The Prince receives the letter.  He reads it aloud while Nathalie listens.  She grows pale; for she feels what a man must do who is called upon to be his own judge.  Nevertheless she urges the Prince to write the words which the Elector requires; she snatches the letter from the Prince’s hand; when he hesitates, she reminds him of the open grave he has already seen.  But neither is the Prince any longer in doubt concerning the significance of the moment, concerning the Elector, concerning his own guilt.  He says,

  “I will not face the man who faces me
  So nobly, with a knave’s ignoble front! 
  Guilt, heavy guilt, upon my conscience weighs,
  I fully do confess—­”

He writes this to the Elector, and Nathalie embraces him exclaiming: 

  “And though twelve bullets made
  You dust this instant, I could not resist
  Caroling, sobbing, crying:  ‘Thus you please me!’”

I would gladly follow the great poet through the fifth act also, but it is not indispensable for the analysis of the play, as the denouement is easy to foresee—­namely that the Prince, after already suffering one death through the relinquishment of that idea which has been the guiding principle of his life hitherto, is spared a second death.  Finally I must add that I have not chosen the Prince of Homburg as the subject of my criticism because this tragedy is the most successful of all Kleist’s plays, but merely because it offers the best opportunity for drawing a comparison between the dramatic achievements of Kleist and those of Koerner.  And now, courage.  We must start in with Koerner and we will choose that one of his products which is universally declared the greatest, his Zriny.