things germans do, episode 3: der Romantik

Germans do Romanticism.  And by Romanticism, I mean the artistic and intellectual tradition, not so much the PDA thing (which, it appears, Germans do not do--at least not as often as Russians...)  This is the venerable Johann Wolfgang von Goethe.  He was one of the first and most famous Romantics.  He was also German, and given the following evidence, I suspect those two facts are closely connected.

An older Goethe, who actually was trying to move past Romanticism.  Too bad for him everyone else still loved it to pieces.  Picture via Wikimedia.

The little biography of him that I bought tells me that his first great success, The Sorrows of Young Worther, was inspired by the angsty experiences he suffered as a young man when the pretty wife of his friend wouldn't pay him any attention.  Worther killed himself.  Goethe didn't.  That's good, because he served as the catalyst for a whole generation of poets and artists to find their inspiration beyond Enlightenment rationality--in emotion, in epic heroes, and in landscapes like this one:

Not a theme park.  Or not exactly...

I like Romanticism.  If I had to sum it up, I would call it the quest for the sublime emotional experience.  Some of the key aspects of what I understand Romanticism to be--an emphasis on the sublime instead of the rational or measurable, a devotion to nature, devotion to story instead of history, a touch of tragedy/rainy weather--make a whole lot more sense after having spent a rainy afternoon on a German Burg.  

This castle, Burg Hohenzollern, was reconstructed by Frederich Wilhem IV, a Prussian prince, on the dilapidated remnants of his "ancestral home," though none of his ancestors had lived there in hundreds of years.  I like to think of his castle as a monument to Romanticism, displaying several important elements of that tradition, starting with this staircase:

What castle is complete without a flower garden, or a staircase for invaders to walk up?  But of course practicality isn't the point--that gestalt image of aged beauty is.  The castle wasn't reconstructed to defend against invaders, anyway (although the exposed, winding path to the entrance, the five gates, and three moats, might suggest otherwise).

This castle was built as a family memorial, a look back to the past and how great it was then, when heroes walked the earth and performed mythic deeds, and an inspiration to future great deeds.  The castle as monument might explain why the Prince went ahead and placed his ancestors (and himself) around the castle as eternal guardians.

In its Romantic spirit, the castle is covered in green growth: ivy, moss and lichen, trees coming up everywhere.  In the middle ages, the forest on the hill was cleared, which made it harder for the advancing enemy to take cover from cannon fire.  Nowadays, though, the trees and overgrowth lend it just the right air of something fallen, but still great:

Romanticism tends to have a background sense of melancholy, although it might equally be interpreted as rainy weather.  Living in Germany for a while has clarified that aspect of it for me.  Just try to stand on top of a castle on a mountain, looking down over the landscape on a rainy day, and not feel moved.

If you're feeling a lack of sublime, that's the photographer's fault, not the landscape's.

Romanticism is big in American culture today, from indie music remixing 60s and 70s sounds and making them new (as opposed to Wilhelm's medieval Romanticism), to superhero movies, to (arguably) all of science fiction, to film noir and crime dramas.  Personally, I'm a fan of Wordsworth*, of The Lord of the Rings, and Percy Shelley in small doses.  But I've never really walked around in Romanticism before.  Thanks, Goethe and co., for looking out over German mountains and figuring this out for us.

*Here's an example of Wordsworth that I thought went along pretty well with the Burg Hohenzollern.  Except the Wordsworth is English.  Oh well.  Close enough, and I like Wordsworth better.

COMPOSED BY THE SIDE OF GRASMERE LAKE

1806.

          CLOUDS, lingering yet, extend in solid bars
          Through the grey west; and lo! these waters, steeled
          By breezeless air to smoothest polish, yield
          A vivid repetition of the stars;
          Jove, Venus, and the ruddy crest of Mars
          Amid his fellows beauteously revealed
          At happy distance from earth's groaning field,
          Where ruthless mortals wage incessant wars.
          Is it a mirror?--or the nether Sphere
          Opening to view the abyss in which she feeds                10
          Her own calm fires?--But list! a voice is near;
          Great Pan himself low-whispering through the reeds,
          "Be thankful, thou; for, if unholy deeds
          Ravage the world, tranquility is here!"

(via bartleby.com)