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The photo is this nomination is not clear at a low resolution, it is difficult to tell that it is a streetcar instead of a bus. One option is to crop the outer areas of the photo to focus on the streetcar, or to use one of the other photos that has more of a side profile for the streetcar with some cropping as well. I am fine with the wording of the hook as is. I cannot locate Portland streetcars--something old, something new in the NS Line article, however I did locate This article. Please point out the first citation if I missed it.

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The Edge Markets. Retrieved 10 April Daily Express. King Gunther of Burgundy determines to risk his life for her love, and calls on Sigfrid to help him in his wooing. Sigfrid assents, on condition that Gunther gives him his sister to wife, which Gunther promises to do, so soon as Brunhild shall have come to Burgundy. The compact is sealed with an oath, and the ship is equipped for the voyage.

Golden shields and rich apparel are carried down to the shore, and many a tearful eye follows the heroes, as with swelling sails they set off on their voyage. Sigfrid, the skilful seaman, grasps the helm, and Gun- ther takes the oar. After a voyage of twelve days they arrive at Isenstein, where Brunhild resides. On the sea shore they see three vast palaces and a spacious hall, surrounded by six-and-eighty towers of strange and awful architecture, and all built of green marble.

Sigfrid alone is acquainted with this wondrous castle and its lofty mistress. She, too, knows the hero that approaches, alas! To win thy love hath he come. He is my lord, and I his vassal. In thy behoof are we here. She turns back the sleeves from her white arms, grasps the shield and spear, and commences the fight.

Gunther, who cannot see Sigfrid, trembles at the sight of his antagonist, although the struggle was of his own seeking. Sigfrid takes Gunther's shield and bids him only imitate his gestures. The Valkyr hurls the spear, and the sparkles flash from the shield of her opponent, like flames waving in the wind. Sigfrid reels for a moment under the force of the blow, but recovers himself directly, and then hurls the spear against the maiden with still greater force ; she wards it off with her shield, but falls.

But the bold Sig- frid, lithe and agile of limb, seizes at once the mighty stone, casts it still further than the maiden, and in the same instant that he throws it, makes an enormous bound, far outstripping her's, although he bore the king along with him under his arm. The Valkyr turns to her attendants with the exclamation, u Come hither, my mates and men, King Gunther shall be your lord. The ob- ject had been gained. Brunhild is betrothed to Gun- ther, while Kriemhild and Sigfrid, in the presence of the whole court, exchange the kiss of betrothal.

But meanwhile, tears fall down the cheeks of the beautiful Brunhild. Sad and conscience-stricken, Gunther de- mands the cause of her grief. She answers, " I weep for thy sister Kriemhild, because thou hast wedded her not to a king, but to one of thy vassals. As we have seen above, Brunhild and Sigfrid were not strangers to each other, the cause which she assigns for her grief is evidently a feigned one ; for she must know that Sigfrid is as much a king as Gunther. It is equally plain that Gunther gives her an evasive answer, for fear of betraying himself. It must have been all along appa- rent to the reader that Brunhild had some previous claim to Sigfrid's affection.

Her love, long suppressed, now bursts forth into the flames of jealousy. And here we get a glimpse of the deities of the old pagan world. A writing appears on the wall, full of threatening augury, which makes the hearts of the beholders shud- der. Upon this, Sigfrid, the victorious god of the sun and of spring, the god of nature with the bright shining eyes, breaks through the flaming wall, and delivers the cap- tive. They are then wedded, the sun-born god with the earth-born maiden. But short is their nuptial joy.

Sigfrid departs, departs for ever from his young bride; just like the year, ever moving onward in his remorseless career, parts from his first love, the verdant spring, for his second love, the glowing summer. This legend still lives on in the mouth of the Germans, but in an altered shape. Instead of the awful Valkyr, surrounded by a flaming wall, we have in the fairy tale, Dornroschen, an enchanted maiden of wondrous beauty, who has been pricked by a spindle, and sleeps behind a wall of thorns until released by her deliverer. Museum, 1 , pp.

Miiller," Versuch einer mythologischenErklarung derNibelungsage," All the other attempts at a mythological or historical exposition of the " Niebelungensage " are failures; e. Erom this condemnation we must except Peter Erasmus Muller's excellent " Sagabibliothek," which, however, treats more of the northern shape of the Saga.

To the observations in the text on the origination of the " Nibelungenlied" from separate songs, we may add that W. Miiller, in his " Ueber die Lieder von der Nibelungen," broaches quite a novel idea, viz. This idea, which is based on good grounds, is a medium between Lachmann's notion and the old hypothesis, which ascribed the whole work to one writer only. In Adolf Holtzman started a conjecture which was meant to upset the whole of Lachmann's theory about the origin of the Nibelungenlied. But if we lift up the curtain, what a wondrous vista may be seen in the far distance.

The more than human Valkyrs, Sigfrid the magnificent God of Light and Power ; Wuotan, the Lord of the World and Giver of Victory ; and beyond these, Do- rjar and Ziu, Fro and Frowa, and all the figures, whe- ther dreadful or benign, of the old pagan mythology of Germany ; and further still, the terrible powers of Nature herself, the phantoms of a wild primaeval people. But to return to the course of our story.

It is true that only at intervals we obtain a glimpse of the demons lowering in the background ; but there is no lack of demons of another sort. Jealousy, envy, hatred, bloody revenge, pre all there. But these are blended with the noblest aspirations of the human breast, with love, and fidelity, and gratitude ; just in fact as these are blended indissolubly in the heart of man, so that one and the same pulsation produces love and hate, envy and gratitude.

This transformation of the Saga from the harsher mythic character into a milder and softer form, is solely attributable to the of the poem, which was declared hy Lachmann to he the oldest, was only a clumsy abbreviation of the detailed description ; while this last was the original shape of the poem, as it appears in the text of Laszberg's MS. This assertion occasioned a considerable contest, which is not yet decided. Holtzmann's proposition can only gain the victory if he succeed in showing that all the oldest German epics, — the "Beovulf,' the " Hildebrandslied," and even the " Heliand," and the later popular poems, are clumsy abbreviations of broader originals.

Ominously the tale moves on. The first step has been taken towards the fulfilment of KriemhilcTs dream. Brunhild's jealousy has been awakened. Although she had been conquered, yet ever and anon the wild spirit of war and contention comes upon her. On the evening of her marriage she has a contest with Gunther, who, being no longer assisted by Sigfrid, as on the former occasion, is shamefully beaten.

To heighten his disgrace, the bride binds him hand and foot with her girdle, and hangs him up by a hook in the wall, from which he is not released until after abject entreaty. Sad and disconcerted, he applies next day to Sigfrid, who slips into his magic cape, contends with the bride, and overcomes her as before. But this time he takes from her, unobserved, the girdle and a ring, both of which he gives to his wife Kriemhild, a gift which is destined to be fatal to himself and spouse, and not only so, but to all their kith and kin.

But the Nemesis still slumbers. The happy pair set out for the land of Sigfrid's parents, Sigmund and Sigelinde. Sigmund resigns the crown in favour of his son. Kriemhild becomes the mother of a son, who is called Gunther, after his uncle. Brunhild also bears a son, who is called Sigfrid. For ten years Sigfrid and his spouse live in undisturbed happiness. He, the great ruler, not only of the Netherlands, but also of the more distant country of the Nibelungs, and the posses- sor of vast treasures ; she, the happiest of queens.

But ten years have not extinguished the fire that burns in the bosom of Brunhild. Is not Sigfrid our liegeman, and yet these ten years he has done no suit or service? Besides, how delightful it would be to see Kriemhild again, so modest, so grace- ful, and so kind. Sigfrid, after taking counsel with his father and followers, resolves to accept the invitation. Accom- panied by Kriemhild and the aged Sigmund his mother, Sigelinde was dead , and a thousand noble knights for his retinue, he sets off for Worms, joyous and unsus- pecting, and bearing with him rich presents for the Burgundian court.

His little son, Gunther, who is left behind, is fated never to see his father and mother more. Arrived at King Gunther's court, they meet with a brilliant reception. Thousands of knights flock to the tournament from every side. The sound of trumpets, of drums, and flutes re-echoes through the spacious city on the Rhine. But amid these festal strains ever and anon the shrill tones of jealous hate fall upon the ear ; the hoarse voices of contention drown the sweet mur- murs of the flute, and give the murderous signal which shall soon affright the halls of the castle and the streets of the city, shall soon fill every land, and shall make many a heart to quake, even when a thousand years have rolled by.

The two queens sit beside each other, as in the fair days of yore. Kriemhild thinks of those days, when she only enjoyed in prospect the happiness w T hich is now hers in reality. These kingdoms belong to Gunther, and will continue so. Brunhild stops before the building and waits for Kriemhild. When the latter arrives, she bids her stand still with an imperious voice, in the face of all her train, " for a vassal's wife has no right to go before her queen.

Sigfrid wooed and then deserted thee. He, and not Gunther, was thy vanquisher, so 'tis thou who art a vassal's wife ; " and then, repenting of her words as soon as she had uttered them, she adds, " Thou art to blame for this quarrel. It grieves me much, I do assure thee. Most ready am I to be thy true friend again. As they came out of the Minster, Brunhild stops Kriemhild, and requests her to explain, in order that she may take sanguinary vengeance on Sigfrid, if he has boasted of her love.

Kriemhild shows the ring, and then — upon Brunhild saying that she had stolen it — the girdle. Humbled, yet breathing vengeance against Sigfrid for betraying her, Brunhild resolves upon his death. All he had told Kriemhild was, that 'the ring and girdle once belonged to Brunhild. And so he says, "They have both forgotten themselves.

It grieves me sorely, Gunther, that my wife hath troubled thine. Let us, and the women also, say no more about it. Boiling with impotent rage, she keeps her chamber, when Hagen finds her, and hears from her own lips the deep insult that had been put upon her. His queen weeps. She has been insulted by a vassal; he must die. Kriemhild's three brothers, and Ortwin of Metz are consulted. Giselher alone, the youngest of the three, looks on the affair as a mere woman's quarrel, and far too insignificant to be atoned for by Sigfrid's death. The rest, Gunther among the number, after a short hesitation, resolve that he must die.

A false alarm of war is to be spread ; Sigfrid is sure to go on the expe- dition, and at a favourable opportunity he is to be slain. Before leaving for the war Hagen waits on Kriem- hild to bid her the customary adieu. She has almost forgotten the dispute, and has not the faintest suspicion that she sees before her one who has sworn the death of her husband. To whom rather than to thee shall I entrust the safety of my Sigfrid? Guard him well, I charge thee on thine allegiance. When he bathed in the dragon's gore there was one spot between his shoulder-blades which was covered by a broad leaf of the linden.

When the war spears are flying thick one might strike him there. So shield him, Hagen, I be- seech thee. The expedition being now no longer necessary, it is changed into a grand hunting party. Sigfrid takes a last farewell of his affectionate spouse. Her soul is troubled with dark forebodings, just as it was in the days of her childhood, when she dreamt of the falcon and the eagles ; for she has had a dream where she saw two cliffs fall upon Sigfrid, in the ruins of which he disappears.

Sigfrid comforts her. Nobody can be his foe ; he has been kind to all. He will soon be back again. She fears, but what and whom she knows not. Hagen, the only one that could be a source of alarm to her, she thinks she has made her friend. But she parts from Sigfrid with the words, " Right sorry I that thou dost leave me thus.

The hunters are wearied and thirsty, but they have nothing at hand to slake their thirst withal. Hagen, however, bethinks him of a fountain in the neighbouring forest, whither, by his advice, they repair. The wide-spreading linden that shades the fountain is in sight, when Hagen expresses a wish to have a specimen of Sigfrid's renowned speed of foot. When Gunther has drunk, he also stoops down to the spring.

While he is so engaged the treacherous Hagen removes the arms out of his reach and darts the spear right through the cross mark on Sigfrid's back. Mor- tally wounded, he springs to his feet to take vengeance on his murderer. The only weapon left him, however, was his bejewelled shield, with which he rushes upon Hagen.

Out fly the precious stones with the violence of his blows. Hagen is smitten to the earth, and the shield is dashed to pieces.

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But the hand of death is upon the hero. His cheeks grow pale and his feet totter, and the husband of Kriemhild sinks down among the flowers which are bedabbled with his heart's blood. Gunther too is heard bewailing. Waking for a moment from his death-trance the murdered man exclaims, te Why weep for the mischief ye yourselves have done? It were better omitted. This draws one more sentence from the dying man.

She is thy sister; protect her as becomes a prince. Never again shall I be seen by my father and my men. His corpse is placed on a gold-red shield and carried to Worms, on the Rhine. It is proposed by some that they shall say he was slain by robbers. She has insulted Brunhild too deeply for me to care whether she weeps or no. And so it comes to pass. The domestic who precedes Kriemhild with a light bids her stop, for the corpse of a knight is lying in the street.

A loud cry of horror bursts from Kriemhild. She knows who it is without being told. Whoever has done this shall die. Kriemhild bids them bide their time. There was a superstition in those days, which even now is not extinct, that when the murderer approached the bier, the wounds of the murdered man would break out afresh.

She resorts to this test. And just when Gun- ther was in the act of trying to persuade her that her husband had fallen by some unknown robbers, Hagen comes near, and the wounds begin to flow. The coffin, rich with gold and silver, is broken open for her to take another look at Sigfrid. With her white hand she lifts up the head and imprints a kiss on his pale lips.

Sigmund and his retainers depart from Worms ; but Kriemhild cannot quit the spot where her love began and had so luckless an ending. She cares not for crown or treasures, nor yet for her child, now that Sigfrid is gone. Two thoughts alone possses her mind : grief and revenge. At first grief takes the pre- eminence ; but by degrees revenge asserts its power, and therefore it is that she is indifferent to her child. It may here be remarked that in this Saga, in its oldest form, no mention is made of the child. So Homer, in the classical epic, is averse to introducing characters which are of little interest for the development of the story.

For three years after the death of Sigfrid, Kriemhild vouchsafes not a word to her brother Gunther. Upon Hagen she will not even deign to look. For the pur- pose of reconciling their sister, the brothers send for the famous hoard hort which Sigfrid gave to Kriem- hild for a wedding present, and which is guarded by Alberich in the land of the Nibelungs.

For four nights and as many days twelve wagons are employed in trans- porting the treasure from the hollow mountain, where it lay, to the ship. On its arrival it is presented to Kriemhild, who becomes friends with the brothers, but not with Hagen. He fancies that her almsgiving will gain all the people to her side and make them disaffected to the king.

In opposition to the wish of the brothers he seizes on the treasure. Gemot advises that they should sink it into the Rhine, which is accordingly done, an oath being taken by all that they will never divulge the spot. For this reason the second part of the poem was, at the time of its composition, called et Nibelungen Not" while the whole now bears the name of " Nibelungen Lied. Coloured robes and golden ornaments, as may be seen from the old ballads, were the customary gifts of kings.

In the poem of " Beovulf," ring-giver or gold-dispenser is synonymous with " king. Schilbung and Nibelung are slain by Sigfrid on account of the treasure. Sigfrid, the second possessor, is cut off in the zenith of his renown. And the Burgundian kings, the third possessors, are, as the poem expressly states, destroyed for not revealing where the treasure was hid. It is plain that we are here upon the dark confines of Pagan mythology. The gold is the property of the sons of darkness, of mist nebel: hence Nibelungen.

Niflheim is, in the Northern mythology, the name for the Land of the Dead. Whoever gives himself up to the gold, falls into the power of the spirits of the subterranean world ; becomes in fact a Nibelung, or doomed to death ; w r hile the gold itself is destined to pass from his hands. It is accord- ingly sunk into the Rhine, where the spirits regain possession of it ; the idea of the fatal fascination which gold exercises on man, thus worked out, affords a glimpse at the deeply imaginative cast of mind possessed by the old Germans.

Her two sons had previously fallen by the side of Dietrich of Bern in the battle of Ravenna. Etzel wishes to marry again, and the widow of Sigfrid is recommended to him by his faithful counsellor, Margrave Riidiger of Bechlarn. Riidiger, on his journey westward, stops at his home, Bechlarn, in Austria, and relates to his wife Gotelinde, and his daughter, the object of his journey, who, though rejoiced that he should have been selected for so honourable a mission, grieve for the death of Helche.

Riidiger arrives at Worms incognito. Hagen, however, exclaims in astonishment, " 'Tis long since I saw the bold blade Riidiger ; but if I am not much deceived, this must be Riidiger himself come from the land of the Huns. Hagen had formerly met Riidiger at the court of King Etzel. The king and his brothers are in favour of the proposal, but Hagen is against it.

Kriemhild, too, declines the proposition, " God forbid that you should jest thus with a poor wretch like me. What should I have to do with a man who has already won one woman's heart? Riidiger appears the next day. But she replies to his offers with i Margrave Riidiger, had you known what I have endured, you would never ask me to wed again.

In Sigfrid I lost more than any woman can hope to regain. Meanwhile, her brothers, Giselher and Gemot, reason with her. My beauty is all faded. When Riidiger comes next day to hear her final answer, she persists in her refusal ; until he says to her aside, " Had you none else in Hunnen-land but me and my true retainers, none should insult you with impunity. Sh then gives him her hand in token of consent, and before long they set off to Hungary, her brothers bearing her company as far as Veringen, on the Danube.

On the way they stop at Riidiger's castle of Bechlarn, on the Danube, where his wife Gotelind receives her new mistress with much affection. At Tulna she is received by Etzel with four-and-twenty kings and princes in his train. But who is it that stands at the head of that group of knights with the wolf- helmets? He is tall, and like a lion about his loins, which look as if they were cast in bronze. His clear eye and kingly forehead remind her of Sigfrid, but it is Sigfrid's cheerful youth changed into the sober experience of ripe manhood, across whose brow the storms of fortune have passed.

His redundant locks are confined by a kingly circlet ; with his nervous left hand he grasps his sword-hilt, while his right rests on a lion-shield. It is Dietrich of Bern, King of the Goths, the greatest hero of his time, and, after Sigfrid, the most renowned in German legend, who, together with his band of Wolfings, is a guest at the court of Etzel.

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  • On their arrival at Vienna the marriage is celebrated with surpassing magnificence, and the fes- tivities continue for seven days. But Kriemhild, the cause of all this vast concourse and jubilee, "her thoughts were far away on the Bhine, and on the happy days she spent with Sigfrid. Her eyes grew moist, but she was forced to hide her tears. Seven years have elapsed, when she brings forth a prince, who is christened Ortlieb.

    After this, six more years expire, and then the day of vengeance begins. Send, I pray thee, to Worms, and invite all my relatives to a festival. When the envoys arrive at Worms, seven days are taken to consider whether the invitation should be accepted. Hagen strenuously opposes going. But Gemot says, i If you are afraid, we will go alone. His advice is followed. Among the multitude of retainers that join the expedition is the bold and joyous Volker of Alzei, skilled in the viol and in song, and also Dank wart, Hagen's brother.

    Kriemhild is full of terrible joy when she hears that they are coming. Her aim is accomplished. Dark forebodings of the future still agitate the Bur- gundian court. Ute, the aged mother of Kriemhild, dreams before they start that all the birds in the land are dead. Hagen, disconcerted at the omen, would again have dissuaded them from the expedition.

    On arriving at the Danube, they find the waters out. Hagen, who goes through the lonely forest in search of the ferryman, hears the sound of splashing waters, and sees two water-sprites, or swan-maidens, bathing. Being aware that they could foretell the future, he has recourse to a stratagem for the purpose of obtaining the infor- mation he desires. He removes their clothes ; upon which the forms of the deep approach, and, to get her clothes back again, one of them says, " Great honour awaits you in Etzel's land.

    Go back while there is time. None of you will return over the Danube except the chaplain of the king. After ferrying all the rest of the party over, he returns for the chaplain, whom, to break the spell, he hurls into the stream. He then makes for the shore which they had left, and which he succeeds in reaching.

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    Hagen, when he perceives him escape, knows that all is over, and breaks the boat to pieces. Henceforward he is prepared for death. In their passage through Bavaria they have a fight with Gelfrat, the reigning prince, in which Dankwart plays the most conspicuous part. It often occurs in real life that the destruction of all our domestic happiness is preceded by some moment of intense pleasure.

    So it is here. We have a beautiful picture of domestic felicity in the noble Riidiger, with his gentle spouse Gotelind, and their blooming daughter, Dietlinde, who receive the party with the greatest hospitality. The modest Dietlinde gives them each the kiss of welcome, till she comes to Hagen, whose ferocious visage makes her shudder ; but, being admonished by her father, she offers him her pale cheek. In the afternoon she again joins the festive throng, and listens to the music of Volker von Alzei.

    Good fellowship has reached its height, when the Bur- gundians sue for the hand of Dietlinde for the young prince Giselher. The betrothal at once takes place ; and it is arranged that they shall marry on the return of the Burgundians homeward. Yolker again delights them all with his various songs, some grave, some gay, till the hour of separation arrives. Before parting, Riidiger presents Gemot with his favourite sword, which he has wielded in many a battle. Gemot wears it from that time forward, and the last blow he deals with it is on the head of the noble donor.

    Hagen also receives as a souvenir from Gotelinde the shield of her father, Nodung, which had hung up as a precious relic in Riidiger's hall of arms. Old Hildebrand, Dietrich's retainer, is the first to hear of their arrival in Hungary, and bears the tidings to his master, who at once rides forth to meet them.

    It is the daring warriors of the Amelungs, with him of Bern at their head. She had best hold to the Hun-king. Sigfrid will never come back. Hagen, thou champion of the Nibelungs, beware of her. There he comes on his lofty steed, the dark, grey-haired warrior, with his fiery eye and fearful countenance ; his frame as if it were of wrought iron.

    He dismounts and approaches Dietrich. An old Burgundian, who had accompanied Kriemhild hither, replies, " That is him of Tronei : his sire was Aldrian. He looks friendly there, by Dietrich's side, but he is a man of fiercest mood. The mass of the Burgundians are lodged in the neighbourhood, under the command of Dankwart; while the kings and higher nobles take up their abode in the palace.

    In the midst of the bustle Hagen meets Volker, and, conscious of their approaching fate, they swear to stand by each other until death. From a window Kriemhild sees them sitting on a bench of stone, with a crowd of Huns staring at them in silent awe. She bursts into tears, and when her people demand the cause of her weeping, bids them take vengeance upon Hagen. Sixty men arm and descend towards the court- yard, led by the queen, who purposes surprising Hagen into a public confession of his crime.

    Yolker rises on the approach of the queen, but Hagen retains his seat with an air of cool defiance.

    Dagmar (American actress)

    But his insolence does not stop here. He places across his knee a gleaming sword, the hilt of which is set with a jasper green as grass. Kriemhild recognises it at once. It is the renowned Balmung which used to hang at Sigfrid's side. This was indeed a cruel thrust, ripping up afresh the old heart's wound. How dared you ride hither after what you've done? They are my masters, and I their man. Where they are am I also.

    I slew Sigfrid because the dame Kriem- hild insulted the fair Brunhild. Do your worst; here am I to answer for the wrong. But a pause ensues. The queen follows them to greet her relatives ; but only to Giselher, her youngest brother, will she vouchsafe the kiss of amity. Kriemhild then enquires for the Nibelung treasure ; had they brought it with them?

    Suspecting that they had been forewarned by some- body, she asks who it was. Presently, after being received by Etzel, the guests retire to rest. As be enters the vast sleeping chamber, a cry of anguish escapes from the youngest brother, the newly-betrothed Giselher. Hagen and Yolker keep guard without, still and motionless. Yet Volker takes his viol once more..

    Its clear sweet tones break the silence of the night,, and sound the knell of the Burgundian race. But no. A band of Huns who attempt to surprise the sleepers are frightened, away by Hagen's terrible voice. Next day a tournament Buhurt is held, whereat Yolker,, getting from sport to earnest, kills a Hun, and a general combat is alone prevented by the firmness of the king. Dietrich reminds her that the Burgundians are her relatives, and had come relying on her good faith. They had done him no harm. So that Sigfrid should never be avenged by Dietrich. At last the queen persuades Blodelin, her husband's brother, by the promise of a great reward, to attack Dankwart's Burgundians, who lodged near at hand.

    He goes to execute his mission. The queen returns to the banquet hall. Hither her son Ortlieb is also brought, and introduced by Etzel to the company. Much drew on existing published material, the Parny review in the Athenaeum on Aristophanes , the article on the Spanish theatre in Europa , or the recent Comparaison of that Heinrich von Collin also present was in the process of translating.

    In Vienna, Schlegel had to take a lot for granted, and he was sparing in his citation of sources. It was not the real point. While philology could never be an irrelevance for Schlegel, the circumstances of the Lectures required large generalisations, relativisms, eye-catching juxtapositions and sweeping conclusions, the most famous of which is this section from the Twelfth Lecture:. Ancient art and poetry strives for the strict severance of the disparate, the Romantic delights in indissoluble mixtures: all opposites, nature and art, poetry and prose, the grave and the gay, memory and intuition, the intellectual and the sensuous, the earthly and the divine, life and death, it stirs and dissolves into one solution.

    As the oldest law-givers proclaimed and set out their teachings and precepts in modulated harmonies, as Orpheus, the first tamer of the still wild human race, is praised in fable; in the same way the whole of ancient poetry and art is like a cadenced set of prescriptions, the harmonious proclamation of the eternal precepts of a world, finely ordered, that reflects the eternal archetypes of things. The Romantic, by contrast, is the expression of the mysteries of a chaos that is struggling to bring forth ever new and wondrous births, that is hidden under the order of nature, in its very womb: the life-giving spirit of primal love hovers anew over the waters.

    The one is simpler, clearer and more akin to nature in the self-sufficient perfection of its single works; the other, despite its fragmentary appearance, is closer to the secret of the universe. For instance, the images of biological organic growth as opposed to the mechanical and ordered, are common currency in the language of German idealism: Schlegel applies them to whole periods and styles. In matters of presentation and disposition, he had learned some lessons from Berlin; while in terms of his general attitudes, he had not greatly changed.

    Old enmities ran deep. Thus to introduce the essential Shakespeare, Schlegel reformulated the insight, not new or original, which the Germans Herder, Goethe, Eschenburg, Tieck, Schlegel himself had made their own: that Shakespeare is the natural inerrant genius who essentially has nothing to learn, but who submits to the discipline of form and art to achieve true greatness.

    Read my Shakespeare, is the unspoken message of his Shakespeare lecture to his German audience, an instruction of less relevance for later French, English or other readers. Shakespeare had links with both the intellectual Bacon and the political strivings of his age, but there was in his account of the English nation still some of that spirit of chivalry and feudalism, independence of mind and action, that had animated the Middle Ages.

    Furthermore: the Histories, taken as a cycle, could be read as heroic epic in dramatic form: it was not Spenser, not Milton especially not he , but Shakespeare who through the unconsciousness of genius had supplied the English with their national epic. Not for the first time German ideas were being assimilated to the processes of foreign literature: Schlegel was clearly finding analogies with the Nibelungenlied , one of his current preoccupations.

    Aeschylus and Sophocles had been Athenian citizens, Seneca the court philosopher of Nero. Hence the amount of space, seemingly beyond all proportion three lectures out of fifteen , that Schlegel devotes to the disqualification of the neo-classical, the need to deny it houseroom in the wide scheme of European drama that he unfolds, one that also obliquely takes in the Indians, who with the Greeks were the only ancient people with a native dramatic tradition. It reflected national characteristics and virtues love, honour. Much of this would take on a peculiar relevance as the Lectures appeared in print, the sections up to and including European neo-classicism in , followed in by the sections on Romantic drama.

    These political aspirations as opposed to legal, military and educational reforms were of course not to be fulfilled in the German lands, and Prince Metternich, no doubt sitting in the front row of the lecture hall, would be the author of the later reaction that saw their frustration. Their journey took them into the Bohemian lands: Goethe was rumoured to be in Carlsbad.


    This meeting never eventuated, but in Prague, where they arrived on 26 May, they hoped to meet Friedrich Gentz. He chose therefore to lie low in Prague. He had to borrow money from his brother to get this far, and more would be needed to see him to his ultimate destination. His first communication from Vienna, in July , would inaugurate a litany recounting his tribulations, his waiting in the antechambers of the influential, his harassments, real and imagined, by the secret police. Wieland was gracious, even to Schlegel.

    Schlegel left the party at Weimar and made a quick dash across to Hanover. It was part of her discovery that the Germans were a profoundly religious people Protestant Germans, that is, for Catholics formed a disproportionately shorter part of the narrative. She may not even have appreciated the differences inside German Protestantism.

    But the visit to the Moravian Brethren in Neudietendorf near Erfurt struck a different note. She described the communal life and worship of the Brethren, their regularity and tranquility, the harmony of their inner feelings and their outward conduct. It was to be the last time that he saw his cherished and devoted mother. Hanover had been swallowed up by this Napoleonic creation. Outside, Spain rose in revolt; later, Austria prepared for war.

    He is more conciliatory in the matter of national dramatic styles, provided that none claims a monopoly of taste or excellence the second part of his Vienna Lectures, published later in the same year, would adopt a different tone. Instead, he uses Constant to diminish Schiller.

    Schiller had not succeeded in containing his material in five acts; his trilogy was not, like those of the Greeks, the product of inner necessity, but of despair. Had Schiller been a more experienced dramatist, had he spent less time on philosophical or historical studies, he might have achieved the same five- act solution as Constant.

    This was the delayed critical voice of Jena. Reimer in his turn handed Schlegel over to Julius Hitzig in Berlin, a new publisher looking for copy and very glad to add the famous translator to his list. Sophie Bernhardi had not forgotten her poetic ambitions amid her family affairs. Could Schlegel find a publisher for her verse epic Flore und Blanscheflur? He remembered Zimmer in Heidelberg. Zimmer was not interested, but he sensed a real prize when Schlegel offered him his Vienna Lectures.

    Schlegel had wanted them to appear in Vienna itself, but publishers there would only pay in paper money. Zimmer could offer proper currency, two and a half Carolins per sheet for a print-run of 1, Doubtless Schelling had a hand in this. There was an academy project on standard German grammatical usage. Could he be persuaded? In fact Schlegel was far more interested in borrowing the Munich manuscript of the Nibelungenlied.

    Schlegel had remained behind while she, Sabran and Montmorency set out for the event, which took place on 17 August. It was the only folk event that she in fact seems to have seen and it suited her purposes admirably. There were other spectators of note at Interlaken. That great royal traveller Crown Prince Ludwig was there.

    It was the moment to intercede for Friedrich Tieck, still in Rome. Having done the busts of the Weimar notabilities and some in Munich, would Tieck not be the ideal sculptor for the Walhalla, the monument to German greatness that was to arise on the banks of the Danube near Regensburg? Thus ensued one of the more bizarre episodes in the history of Coppet.

    He did not practise ethereality: no serving- wench was safe from his attentions. Goethe had been equally fascinated and repelled by him, but the periodical Prometheus expressed itself more drastically: sampling his works was like enjoying a banquet where one had unwittingly been eating human flesh. Werner also spent hours in conversation with Schlegel. Maybe she needed a catalyst such as Werner or Schlegel. Tieck, Novalis and Friedrich Schlegel had been attracted to the Silesian theosophist, whereas August Wilhelm had been less drawn.

    That was only to cease with his conversion to Catholicism in Schlegel was not to take such a step. For there is enough evidence from his correspondence up to the Russian journey of a searching for spiritual satisfaction, for an easing of soul, but not necessarily inside an ecclesiastical or hierarchical framework. At this stage he was willing to defend the speculations of his brother Friedrich in Ueber die Sprache und Weisheit against the likes of Schelling; indeed in an important letter to the latter of 19 August he saw philosophy as but one way towards truth, not an end in itself; it alone—not even Kant—could not open up the ultimate secrets.

    Whereas later it would be history, historical record, the examination of sources on the broadest of bases that would inform his method of study, he was now prepared to entertain hidden links between the spiritual and material world that would not sustain historical or philological analysis. But where personal involvement or friendship entered into it he could be relied upon to produce a striking image that comes over to us as authentic. He filled niches in the Weimar palace, not only with Goethe and Schiller, but with Klopstock and Voss.

    His Schelling breathes energy and intelligence; his Alexander von Humboldt has something of the freshness and determination of the young voyager. That was certainly the way that Werner, the later convert to Catholicism and ordained priest, wished to see it. This would not be the hardship it might seem to be, for her father had presciently purchased property there. The fates of these two enterprises were soon to be intertwined.

    Was he the property of the Franco-American owner of Chaumont and a reminder that slavery was still being practised in both countries? The poem states that the slave was set free, and it affirms his belief still in the efficacy of the sacraments. For a publisher the author went to Gabriel-Henri Nicolle, who had also brought out Corinne.

    They knew of her unrepentant interest in politics, for instance her concern as the widow of a Swedish diplomat at the outcome of the succession to the Swedish throne. Their recommendation was: publication, but with changes to the offending passages. The proofs then went to the highest authority himself: Napoleon. His main instruction was the removal of the section favourable to England. It is clear from that context that Auguste, not subject to the same ban as his mother, had taken the letter in person; Schlegel had sought to intervene with Corbigny. The proofs were then pulped.

    Pleas for an audience fell on deaf ears. In fact she received a visa for Coppet and decided to return there instead. And was it not clear that Schlegel, the author of the Comparaison , was regarded as her accomplice? Fortunately the French translation had not reached the production stage, and Chamisso was able to retain his manuscript for future use.

    The French police bulletins of October and November were notable in drawing attention to the ideological dangers filtering in from Germany: Werner, with his offensive Attila ; Fichte of the Reden an die deutsche Nation , Gentz in the pay of the English , and the Schlegel brothers.

    Nor with a print run of 5, and several sets of proofs in existence was this humanly possible. Some say, in Lausanne, Humboldt is supposed to have said it. Do you not have any bright new plans for next spring? She had meanwhile decided that it would be prudent for him to absent himself from Coppet or Geneva for a couple of months. It all added to the precariousness of their situation. In the summer of and lasting into , there was even an infatuation: with the admirable and gifted Marianne Haller, the wife of the city architect and very much his junior.

    Schlegel could only enjoy her charms, her intelligence and her talk at a distance. It is certainly no coincidence that the two poems that he addressed to her adopt the conventions of Minnesang, one of them even in an approximation to Middle High German stanzaic form, for this was the lady untouchable and inviolate whom one could approach only in verse. It was to the robuster Nibelungenlied that Schlegel now devoted time and leisure, to collate the various manuscripts. It was, however, to Mohr and Zimmer that Schlegel turned for the works that for him mattered in these last Swiss years: the completed Vienna Lectures and the Poetische Werke , both of which came out in These were not good times for publishers or for authors.

    North Germany, a market that a bookseller overlooked at his peril, was subject to the decree of 5 February that extended across the French imperial territories to all those under its jurisdiction; Zimmer, in neutral Baden, went ahead with the Poetische Werke nevertheless. Die Kunst der Griechen , that elegy that had once adulated Goethe, was still there, more on account of its correct versification than its genuine sentiments. He would have even more pleasure when in the same year Ludwig Tieck, a notoriously bad correspondent, surprised him by dedicating to him his collection Phantasus and reawakening the memory of Jena.

    Here were some political tactics, some acts of deference, but also an acknowledgement of who belonged together, who had stood up for the other over the years—and there were not many of them left. Frontispiece and title page. It was a reminder of how medieval chivalry and fable still informed the Renaissance Ariosto, Tasso, Shakespeare, Cervantes , how the canonical poets all proceeded from the same sources and substance.

    In June, , while he was briefly back in Coppet, she decided on an altogether more adventuresome and risky operation: she asked Schlegel to travel from Berne to Vienna with a copy, to be deposited in the safe hands of Friedrich Schlegel and to be recovered on their way eventually to Russian or Swedish asylum. The route to be taken was at this stage not clear, but Vienna would in all likelihood be the point of departure.

    In Vienna, he found his brother, doubtless told in advance of this imminent incursion, and not a little surprised. It bound him to a political ideology—that of the Habsburg state, its aspirations and its myths—yet who in these years could live free of such allegiances? Ludwig Tieck, living in his bolt hole in remotest Brandenburg, perhaps, or those two footloose if very different figures, Clemens Brentano and Zacharias Werner, until Rome claimed them, but most others could not afford that luxury.

    One must picture—if one can—a corpulent Friedrich festooned in this finery, on horseback, in the rain, mud, heat and dust of armies on the march. It was his task to produce an army newspaper. The Austrian army had meanwhile withdrawn to Hungary. Friedrich suffered privations: with his usual intellectual curiosity he nevertheless explored in Buda the antiquities of the kingdom and met scholars and writers.

    He was not back in Vienna until the end of More significant for him were the lectures on history which he gave in Vienna from 19 February to 9 May, And these lectures, delivered in the fine historiographical prose of which Friedrich was capable, had a distinctly Austrian accent. And the fine rhetoric of delivery did not conceal a historical teleology and a message for the times, something that a political journalist and intellectual was expected to supply.

    It is for us brothers of course a great privation to be separated from each other without any prospect of meeting again; he was quite hypochondriac and in lowest spirits before I arrived, but our conversations picked him up again. When I left, he went with me and then he turned back, alone, on foot across a bare and treeless plain, a truly sad image of our separation.

    Unlike Friedrich, who was to deliver three more big lecture cycles in Vienna and Dresden, August Wilhelm was only once again to lecture to a general public, much later in Berlin.

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    His lectures on history embraced the ancient world, not the modern, and they were for a university audience. It was a reflection of her own experience, sometimes even shared with him, yet it was so much limited to what she had actually seen and taken in, was so ideologically slanted to her needs, that questions of mere attributions or informants— who helped her with this part or that—became largely irrelevant.

    There was little point in asking, as some contemporaries were to do, whether Schlegel had checked it through. Nations should serve as guides one to one another, and they would all be wrong were they to deprive each other of the enlightenment that they can afford one another mutually.

    There is something very strange about the difference between one people and another: climate, landscape, language, government, above all the events of history, a force ranking above all others, contribute to these diversities, and no-one, however superior he may be, can guess at what is going on naturally in the mind of the one who lives on a different soil and breathes a different air: one will do well in every country to receive alien thoughts; for, in this way hospitality makes the fortune of the one who receives it.

    He knew also which places and which persons she chose to omit no Munich, no Berlin salons, no Gentz, for instance and which individuals she chose to elevate to a status largely ordained by her and her own personal acquaintance. He might also have reflected that his material, his insights, his plot-summaries could be implicitly relied upon for their accuracy, while hers could not, being often second-hand, tailored to her needs, and sometimes wilfully wrong as in her account of the plot of Faust.

    He may have despaired at her account of Kant, until he recognized, as one must, that she was using him, as so many other figures and ideas, to further her own cultural and political aims, or that she was calling for the study of serious philosophy as opposed to frivolous scepticism or materialism. There were allusions enough to the times in which they were delivered, arguments for the audience to understand why Germany in its present state could not emulate Athens or Golden Age Spain or Elizabethan England.

    In that sense his Lectures were a continuation of debates and agonizings since over what had gone wrong, why the old order had collapsed, why the German lands had fallen to Napoleon one after the other and had been divided and ruled as he saw fit. In postulating how the theatre might contribute to the building of the nation, Schlegel was doing his patriotic duty, less outspokenly of course than political voices like, say, Arndt, Gentz, or Stein, while performing it nevertheless.

    True, with its territorial divisions, it had then as now lacked a capital city, something that the Germans themselves had been deploring for several generations and that Friedrich Schlegel had noted with regret in Europa. For her part, she was not interested in institutions or society other than its highest echelons, or indeed too many tiresome factual details.

    The important thing was to point to what France did not have, but might have, if it let another nation be its guide and inspiration. It might see alternatives to centralism, control, despotism and acts of arbitrary tyranny. Readers in France might have cause to ponder issues that were not specific to Germany, but which might acquire a new urgency through an openness to another culture: reason, intelligence, faith, imagination, philosophy, mental energy. It had been a way of transcending the provincial narrowness of Jena and it would also overcome the restrictions of Bonn, for his later scholarly career was oriented as much to Paris and London as to the Prussian university where he was to live and work.

    In fact he was only there from October to November, , and from March to May in America was now ruled out, although as late as November she was contemplating it. They became more and more dependent on snippets of news regarding the political situation in Europe. Could Turkey be a route, once the Russo-Turkish border was secure? When Capelle used chicanery to challenge the validity of the original purchase of Coppet by the Neckers, it was Schlegel who was able to use the good offices of his Heidelberg publisher to secure the deeds.

    On his side, he could not aspire to claiming her affection, let alone her love; he was merely indispensable and fraternally so; on her side she permitted no rivals, but at the same time she was free to indulge her passions as she chose. Small wonder that he in a letter of April or May, reproached her with folly and heartlessness towards him. Already in May, Germaine and Rocca entered into a solemn engagement to marry, and in the late summer she found herself pregnant—in her forty-sixth year.

    Of the official Coppet circle only Fanny Randall was party to the secret; Schlegel never found out while there. Germaine was to the outside world suffering from dropsy: even Zacharias Werner in Rome heard of it.

    Licensing of German Newspapers by the ICD

    It was in Berne, too, that he received through his sister-in-law Julie Schlegel in Hanover the news of the death of his mother, on 21 January, Protestant worship no longer met the needs of his heart: it was in Catholic shrines that he found a first solace. Nowhere is there a word about confession or doctrine: the outward signs and symbols manifested in the act of worship, he claimed, brought us an assurance of the divine presence. He must have assumed that he would never return, for this cache was to remain undiscovered for over years. He left behind too his 1,volume library, carefully ordered according to incunables, quartos, and octavos.

    One could see here the books that had occupied him during this part of his career—the material on Dante, Shakespeare, Homer, Roman antiquities, the Nibelungenlied , the fine arts—and some, like the volumes of the Asiatick Researches , that pointed to future preoccupations. Rocca and Albert would join them later. No-one must suspect anything: there were to be no visible preparations for departure. It was to end in St Petersburg. In a sense she had been traversing Europe since late Schlegel was in her company for a large part of that time. Why not an even grander tour?

    Yet this journey was in every other respect different. Stockholm lent itself, because she was the widow of a Swedish envoy and baron. Her children were technically Swedish citizens, and she wished to see her sons employed in the service of their adopted country.

    Her ultimate goal was however England, the land that in her eyes could do no wrong or very little. He was already the much-celebrated author of the Vienna Lectures, which had been published in full in , and were to appear in French in and in English in It would be issued in London by John Murray. For these were years that saw him producing not poetry but a great deal of prose, political rhetoric in fact.

    After this interlude of roughly two years, Schlegel was to turn again to pure scholarly activity, involving learning the basics of Sanskrit. Like her he was a fugitive from Napoleon. His association with her had seen him banned from Geneva. Now he was fleeing in her company, finding refuge in Russia, a country at war with Napoleon, and then in Sweden, where the Prince Royal and the Tsar had just concluded a treaty.

    Once Sweden and France were formally at war, Schlegel had no option but to stay close to Bernadotte. For Napoleon and his agents they were seditious, insurrectionary even. When later comparing his own career in these years with the academic idyll in Heidelberg enjoyed by his old adversary Johann Heinrich Voss, Schlegel was not exaggerating in saying that he could have been arrested for treason in French territory. In , Albertine, now sixteen and a young beauty, was married to Victor, duke of Broglie.

    There were other reminders. All this may help in part to explain the tone in his letters, not without some self-pity, of stoical acceptance of an unfulfilled lot, the sense that one had to accommodate to what life had in store and not expect happiness. A secret political agent, following armies on horseback; wearing a splendid uniform, in court dress; rubbing shoulders with the high and mighty, corresponding with the Tsar, Metternich Bernadotte as a matter of course ; formulating state policy, like Stein or Gentz?

    There was nothing new in these associations: the visits to Italy, Germany and Austria, while under different circumstances, had been a first habituation. In a way the rest simply followed. In these years people changed in station and allegiance as chance and circumstances demanded. Why could not Schlegel the Hanoverian write pamphlets in Swedish service?

    The middle-aged Fichte ruined his health as an academic firebrand in Berlin. Younger men, some of whom had heard Schlegel in Jena or Berlin, rallied to the colours. Only the unmartial Ludwig Tieck, dedicating his collection Phantasu s to Schlegel in and evoking the great days of Jena, kept well out of the fray in his bolt hole in the Mark of Brandenburg. Unlike some of these, Schlegel did not see action and generally kept back with the headquarters staff.

    Not for him the mud, the dust, the fleas, the corpses, the dead horses, the Cossacks, the detritus of the battlefield, the first-hand narratives of great encounters. In the rearguard, he would exchange the sword for the pen, as a forceful writer in both German and French. Here, they were joined by Rocca, Albert, and Schlegel, who had been entrusted with securing passports for the next leg of the journey. He would rejoin them in Stockholm.

    He had no option but to swallow his chagrin and concentrate on the main task of their all somehow reaching Sweden. It would be different from their previous journeyings, for she was now in poor health and less able to withstand discomforts. Schlegel was in effect a proscribed person, Rocca was a French citizen. From Berne they went via Zurich and Winterthur and then briefly through the Bavarian controlled Tyrol. Rather than reflect on the recent fate of Andreas Hofer and his Tyrolean uprising, it was expedient to pass quickly through to Salzburg and Munich and gain Austrian soil.

    The parties met up at Linz and proceeded to Vienna. She would soon realize that Austria had changed since The Schlegel brothers saw each other for the last time until There was however the need to obtain passports for their forward journey: visits to the Russian and Swedish ambassadors became as much a necessity as a social duty. They were soon to learn the unpalatable fact that Austria could present a different aspect if one came as a fugitive, even one of fame and high rank.

    They were subjected to constant surveillance, and it was even to emerge that one of their servants was in police pay. His master Metternich, less enamoured than he, was absent and did nothing. Peace had been concluded between Russia and Turkey. It was one reason why she had preferred exile in Coppet to banishment in America. Napoleon however put paid to that particular scheme by declaring war on Russia.

    There were harassments and petty inconveniences along the way, with uncertainties about passports Schlegel had been left in Vienna to sort these out as they passed through Moravia Brno, Olomouc and Galicia. The monotony of the landscape depressed her. There were however compensations. With great relief they arrived at Brody, the Austrian-Russian border station, on 13 July.

    The governors of Kiev, Orel and Tula received them. Then, on 2 August, the golden cupolas of Moscow came into sight. Except in a political context, he rarely wrote anything complimentary about the Slavs. Whether the journey through the Slavonic lands was the cause, must remain a conjecture. They had time to take in the ancient city, to meet its most famous literary personage, Nikolai Karamzin, and its governor, Count Rostopchin, who was soon to give the order for its destruction. They then travelled across the endless plain, through Novgorod and thus to St Petersburg, where they arrived on 11 August.

    The month in the Russian capital was to be the first of her late triumphs, with Stockholm, London and Paris to follow. This meant that Schlegel inevitably receded into the background, while she shone all the more refulgently. Arndt mentions him only by name, Stein similarly, John Quincy Adams, who had two animated conversations with her, not at all.

    St Petersburg was offering asylum to notable ruling spirits in the opposition against Napoleon. Arndt had made his journey to Moscow and to St Petersburg to join Stein and become his private secretary. A treaty had been signed there on 30 August, leaving Sweden free to pursue its policies against Denmark, suitably assisted by a Russian loan. The Tsar had charmed his Swedish partner, but had not committed himself to concrete undertakings. Savary certainly thought so. More probably she put in a good word for Bernadotte during her audience with Alexander. To her distress it was booed. Anti- French feelings might run high, but surely French culture was excepted.

    It clearly was not. In that assumption he was correct. This meant leaving the splendours of St Petersburg for the more sober grandeur of Stockholm. If one wanted an illustration of how the French Revolution had shaken up the old political and social order of Europe, he would provide it. Bernadotte was above all the army commander at Austerlitz, at Jena, at Eylau, at Wagram, yet Napoleon was never satisfied with his performance at these battles, and what is more he did not trust him.

    Nor did the thought of a parvenu on the Swedish throne worry him. Or indeed of older Swedish history: the remembrance of the Treaty of Kalmar of , for instance, that had once united the three Scandinavian nations under one throne, or of Gustavus Adolphus, or even of Charles XII. He would have learned that Sweden was still smarting under the loss of its large eastern buffer province of Finland, which had been wrested from it by Russia in after a brief campaign. It was all the more necessary to ensure good relations with Russia in the east and to secure territorial guarantees in the west.

    He had forced Sweden to declare war on Britain no shots were actually ever fired , then he had invaded Swedish Pomerania preparatory to his Russian campaign in the summer of For the first time since Vienna, Schlegel emerged from the shadows. Her customary intrepidity deserted her when she left dry land, and her fears were compounded on seeing the frail vessel that was to transport them.

    It was, as it were, Lady Hamilton translated to the Baltic. A storm rose, the ship was forced to take shelter near a rocky island. Under such bizarre and slightly hilarious circumstances were Niobe or Iphigenia seen in the Gulf of Bothnia. Schlegel produced a poem for the occasion—it could not be otherwise—adding it to his earlier homage to the young dancer Friederike Brun. The Prussian envoy claimed that her house was the centre of anti-Napoleonic intrigue in the city. Nor did he support the Danish initiatives to secure concessions from the British, which later elicited sarcastic comments from Schlegel.

    Of course he had in various contexts expressed quite pronounced views on the development of the modern state, its tendency to centralism, bureaucracy, standing armies. For him the Reformation was the source of many of these evils, which as he saw it had brought the Middle Ages proper to a symbolic end. Rather—in the year —they were a call for reflection on the past as a guide to present uncertainties. Real politics were, as ever, best left to those who knew its practical limits and who did not go into reveries about what once was. His brother Friedrich meanwhile had been called upon to formulate general policies of state according to Austrian doctrine and had assumed the role of a political propagandist for the Habsburg cause.

    They were very largely in German, a language that Bernadotte did not read. The Vienna Lectures, the best proof of the man and his style, were not to appear in French until later in Thus General Suchtelen was more or less right when he saw in Schlegel a man whose talents and whose knowledge of Germany made him ideally suitable.

    Thus it lacked official status and remained a draft. The reasons for this are not difficult to see. It begged questions and made sweeping assumptions. No-one doubted that a campaign against Napoleon would have to be initiated in the German lands: opinions differed on the details. Bernadotte himself was really only marginally interested in Germany.

    When he did go there, he used Swedish territory in Pomerania as his base. Baron Stein, and later Prince Metternich, also had very different notions of how Germany would look during and after a campaign against Napoleon, and they were not especially interested in a Swedish role in these processes except in a minor capacity.

    He knew that, rhetorically, the case had to be prepared with care. The mention of Walcheren, the British fiasco of , suggested that small and badly organised expeditions were unlikely to succeed. It would by the same token remind the Prince Royal that he, as Marshal Bernadotte, had once been largely instrumental in that particular British defeat.

    What was needed was the revival of the German empire itself. Of course it would be an empire that reflected the present state of Germany, its sophistication in political and philosophical thought, not some entity in the past. At most one might wish an existing royal house to assume leadership, such as Habsburg.

    Only here did the memorandum pick up some of the medievalisings of the Deutsches Museum. This latter would be no other than Baron Stein with whom, Schlegel reminded the Prince, he had had conversations in St Petersburg. Switzerland would form part of it, the Hanseatic towns as well they would make it a sea power. Without realizing it, Schlegel was coming close to the pan-German visions to be formulated in mid-century and beyond. The envoi of the memorandum was addressed to Sweden and to the Prince Royal himself.

    It invoked the ultimate example of Gustavus Adolphus, whose worthy successor it suggested Bernadotte was. A good command of selected facts, a well- presented argument however shaky in parts , and some gross flattery: all of these factors combined to make this a skilfully written political pamphlet.