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|Romanticism and Vormärz, 1800-1848|
I. Summarizing Statement|
German literature from 1800 to 1848 is marked by a number of different aesthetic, poetic, and political ideologies, and resists attempts at easy classification. Towards the end of the 18th century after the French Revolution, a general dispute arose amongst the later Enlightenment thinkers about the function of the aesthetic realm, including literature. A broader system of social spheres combined with a much larger educated reading public led to a split between higher ('autonomous') literature and lower Trivialliteratur; this division can be seen as the result of a widespread compartmentalization of society as well as a fear of egalitarian tendencies amongst the educated classes. Classical models, many poets thought, were no longer sufficient: instead, new forms should be developed -- these should not seek legitimation from the past, but should be independent and progressive. The early Romantics (based in Jena and Berlin around the Schlegels) called for a new mythology; the fragment, with its self-contained unity but resistance to final closure, was a favored form. The novel, often fragmentary, was hailed as the 'modern' genre, and as the Romantic movement broadened to include the circles in Heidelberg and elsewhere, literature took on a philosophical justification: literary work was seen not as an escapist art, but as a combination of creativity and critical reflection. The problem of history was thematized by many writers, including Novalis, who sought a synthesis in the future and rejected others' call for a return to the idealized harmony of the past (cf. Brentano and Friedrich Schlegel). Kleist, in particular, problematized the construction of subjectivity, including race and gender. Hoffmann and Heine use satire and irony to retain their critical stance, but many Romantics suppressed some of the social awareness and the critical function of literature (Brentano, the Brothers Grimm) by turning to 'Nature' and the 'Volk' as the source for renewal. By the 1830's, however, a new generation of poets, constrained by the increased conservatism and censorship reigning in Germany -- which was itself a response to a shift in the economic and social order, as the middle class became more concerned with issues of civil society -- emphasized the importance of Gesellschaftskritik and politically engaged literature. New genres (cultural and travel sketches, political poetry) gained prominence, and by the Vormärz period, a radical and materialist ideology stood at odds with the conservative establishment, creating an extremely large spectrum for literary activity. Women writers, among them Aston and von Arnim, proclaimed the emancipatory ideals of the period, but often defy classification into the established categories. After the failed revolutions of 1848, much of the literary radical spirit disappeared, and although individual authors continued to uphold the autonomous critical stance in their writings, much of the Biedermeier period is characterized by a withdrawal into the ordered harmony of hearth and home. Even here, however, Weimar classical aestheticism is not a functional model, and many authors (Stifter, Grillparzer) show a persistent engagement with the social reality of their age.
I B: Keywords
Plainly stated, the period from 1800 to 1848 was one of revolution for most of Europe. The French Revolution of 1789 was still reverberating through Germany at this time, and the influence of the Napoleonic Wars made itself apparent, as well. One could go so far as to claim that the Romantic movement itself sprang out of the Revolution, embracing nationalistic and aesthetic ideals which conflicted with those of the Enlightenment thinkers. Jean-Paul, for instance, portrayed many egalitarian ideals in his writings, although his style can hardly be called revolutionary or radical. Büchner, some forty years after the event itself, chose to write his revolutionary drama Dantons Tod, manipulating key historical events to portray them in the light of his own disillusionment with the times and with the way the revolution had run its course. Novalis' idea of freedom in a universal religion, as portrayed in Die Christenheit oder Europa, can be ascribed to revolutionary impetus, though significantly modified to his personal aesthetic. Kleist, too, shows how the age of revolution penetrated into the inner and private worlds of society: his Verlobung in St. Domingo deals with the repercussions of the later stages of the French Revolution on the colonial island, thematizing the question of personal subjectivity and illustrating how the social construction of the individual can undercut bourgeois authority. By 1830, when the July Revolution in Paris sparked a new wave of oppositional literature in Germany, writers such as Heine and the Young Germans had established their presence as writers of politically engaged literature: Heine's epic poems from the 1840's attack not only the conservative establishment in Germany, but the oppositional forces as well. After 1840, increasing radicalism fueled by political stirrings marked the writings of the Vormärz authors as well as women writers such as Louise Aston, whose emancipatory ideals met with small critical acclaim. By 1848, the unsuccessful revolutions throughout the German realm produced a sense of resignation for many, and a withdrawn, idyllic literature became characteristic for the period: Stifter and other Biedermeier novelists, for example, turned to a gentle but firm order to overcome the chaos of the revolutionary years. All in all, German literature from 1800-1848 drew heavily upon the political tide of revolution that was sweeping the continent, to such an extent that the discussion of almost any work from the period must take these ideals into account.
2. Literature as an autonomous realm
The conception of literature as an autonomous realm provided a source of debate and contention throughout the late 18th and most of the 19th centuries. In particular, the question was tied to the idea of politically engaged literature: if literature is indeed autonomous, can it retain a critical social stance, or does it become escapist and idealist? While the Weimar classicists were still writing for a fairly homogeneous reading public, and could thus concern themselves with matters of 'universal knowledge,' even the early Romantics knew that this term was a misnomer: public writing by this point had become divided between the educated philosophical literature and the Trivialliteratur so beloved by the new reading masses. Early Romantic literature therefore chose to maintain its elitist stance, and showed a marked fear of the egalitarian tendencies of the age: hence the insistence on an autonomous and often fantastic Poesie, one which may not even reflect the concerns of bourgeois society. The typical early Romantic Märchen, removed from time and place, provides one example, and even Tieck's Blonder Eckbert shows little regard for modern social realities. Eckbert's story does, though, mirror the poetological debate of autonomy: having believed all along that he was an autonomous individual, Eckbert collapses in terror at the end when he learns that his independence was an illusion, and that each individual he encountered was only a manifestation of his own subjectivity. Authors such as Novalis preferred to see poetry as the autonomous realm in which a reconciliation could be sought: set off from the social reality, literature could thus portray a utopian vision of balance and harmony, as in the Hymnen an die Nacht. This functionalized autonomy continued to influence the thinking of the later Romantics: Hoffmann's tales -- certainly Der goldne Topf more so than Kater Murr -- are tied directly to the social reality of his day, but are by no means restricted to this banality: they create a realm of autonomy for themselves in which their internal logic prevails and a reconciliation becomes unnecessary. By the end of the Romantic period, the politically motivated poetry of the Young Germans and the Vormärz authors threatened to put an end to the belief in the possibility of literary autonomy, but Heine's writings insist on upholding both his "Zwecklosigkeit" as well as his political statements. By 1848, however, the idealist tendencies of many Biedermeier poets emphasized a withdrawal from the chaotic conflicts of the era, and their literature, while arguably "autonomous," no longer retained the critical function of the later Romantics.
The emphasis on nature in the poetry and prose of the Romantic period cannot be overlooked, but it should be noted that theirs was a highly artificial conception of the "natural" world. The early Romantics thematized primarily the dichotomy between "Natur" and "Gesellschaft," with a celebration of the lively and fantastic natural world, a realm far preferable to the degenerate bourgeois reality. Often the experience of nature is represented more than the natural world itself: particularly this can be seen in the poetry of Eichendorff and the young Heine. Brentano's "Eingang" shows another use for nature: here nature has been internalized, and it becomes a metaphor for the inner processes of the poet. Tieck's Blonder Eckbert criticizes very harshly the manipulation or instrumentalization of Nature: Bertha's neglect of the dog and her theft of the bird for monetary and self-interested purposes leads eventually to her death, although the position of the Old Woman here as a natural figure is questionable at best. Bettine von Arnim's "Königssohn" reflects both the Romantic glorification of Nature as well as the mistrust of language and its mimetic qualities: in her tale, reconciliation between the natural and the social world is achieved, but only with the loss of language. Heine's later works show a continuing fascination with the natural realm, but he is willing to appropriate metaphors of nature for political purposes: his satirical characterization of the Tendenzbär Atta Troll, for instance, a dancing bear who returns to his natural habitat, is a far cry from the pious hymns of Novalis and the early Romantics. With the growth of German cities and increasing industrialization, the poetry of the Vormärz shows little concern with the positive side of the natural world, but by the time of Stifter we can see a return to the idyll, a balance between natural order and social concord: his insistence on "das sanfte Gesetz," the general manifestation of natural law, maintains the state of harmony and balance in his works.
II. Heinrich Heine and Bettine von Arnim
Heinrich Heine and Bettine von Arnim, although quite strikingly different in their approach to literature -- not to mention style of language -- nonetheless expressed similar political and social goals, both in their writings and in their personal lives. While Heine's exile in Paris led him to critique his homeland from abroad, and thus opened him up to accusations of treason or betrayal, Bettine's work as both an author and a political agitator in Berlin was characterized by personal involvement and political engagement, even after the failed revolution of 1848.
Born in the Rhineland, Heine attended a Gymnasium which leaned strongly toward the French Enlightenment ideals; in addition, his Jewish background provided him with societal models different from those of the surrounding German states. Throughout his writings, Heine shows a great concern for the future of his homeland and for the future of Germany as a whole; his most heartfelt expressions of Vaterlandsliebe can be found in letters describing his decision to leave Germany for Paris, lamenting the state of affairs that forced him into such a move. In his epic poems of the 1840's, Heine lashes out at both the conservative, repressive state which put a ban on his works and made the lives of his Jewish relatives extremely difficult, as well as at the oppositional forces and the Tendenzdichter whose efforts, Heine believed, were either short-sighted attempts at placating the people or misguided utopian visions which could never be achieved. Heine was strongly influenced by the Saint-Simonist movement in France, and was allied to a certain extent with the Young Germans, whose slogans of "Emanzipation des Fleisches" and freedom for women and the disadvantaged Heine eagerly embraced. Having met Marx in 1843, Heine seems at times to incorporate early socialist ideals in his poetry; at other times, however, Marxism becomes the brunt of satire as much as any conservative tradition. Heine criticized the Socialists primarily for what he considered to be their "kunstfeindlich" stance; while early Socialism was seemingly opposed to any pleasure other than that necessary for survival, Heine instead insists that there should be "Zuckererbsen für jedermann." Heine was also afraid of the great revolution and the idea of the 'unwashed masses' having political power; one critic notes that "eine Nivellierung der Gesellschaft nach unten ... schreckte Heine vor allem ab." Heine preferred the idea of a revolution from above; the ideal monarch for him was one who could reign independently of the aristocracy, for the betterment of all social classes. Heine's conception of the privileged position of the poet in society is significant: he hoped, as a poet, to be able to incite the monarch to rule intelligently, as the closing Caput of Deutschland. Ein Wintermärchen clearly indicates. Heine also saw himself as a mediator between the common peoples of Europe: his role as a journalist and poet in French exile was not only to critique the social problems of his homeland, but to provide a better understanding between both nations.
Bettine Brentano von Arnim, on the other hand, grew up in a well-to-do family of Italian descent, and, especially after her marriage and the move to Berlin in 1817, was shaped primarily by the political atmosphere of the Prussian state. In addition to crusading to help the Brothers Grimm in the wake of their dismissal from Göttingen, Bettine began to take an active role in helping out the poor and disadvantaged. Unlike Heine, whose contributions were on a primarily literary and philosophical level, Bettine's efforts were physical and direct: she even gave handouts and assistance to the victims of the cholera epidemic in Berlin. Her great concern for the poor, for the impoverished of Berlin and elsewhere, manifests itself in many of her writings, such as the Armenbuch, in which she attempted to catalog the living conditions of the Silesian weavers, and the Königsbuch with Grunholzer's supplement describing the misery of Voigtland. Bettine was admired by the Young Germans and the political writers of the Vormärz for her activism, but, like Heine, she was never satisfied to ally herself fully with any school. Whereas Heine's love for Germany compelled him into exile, Bettine continued her efforts at home, even after 1848 (the second volume of the Königsbuch appeared in 1852). Her work is an example of the emancipation and freedom for women that she so desired, and yet, similar to Heine's Judaism, the issue is rarely thematized to any outright extent in her writings. Bettine and Heine both objected to the arrogance and irresponsibility of the aristocratic classes; she leans, perhaps more so than Heine, towards socialism, but with an ever-present sense of personal involvement, and a more strongly egalitarian component. At the same time, the speeches in the Königsbuch indicate that Bettine also hoped for an ideal enlightened monarch, much as Heine did. She, however, saw the possibility for this enlightenment even in the person of Friedrich Wilhelm IV, and believed that, while it was the monarch's duty to put things right in the kingdom, it was Bettine's own duty to mediate between the king and his people. While Heine's mediation crossed national and regional borders, Bettine's was in effect an attempt to improve communication across class boundaries. Both, however, worked for the improvement of the social conditions in their homeland: Heine by means of the pointed critiques of his satirical literature, and Bettine by personal and poetic intervention.
III. Narrative Structure in Kater Murr
E.T.A. Hoffmann's Lebensansichten des Katers Murr incorporates two distinct narratives that not only overlap in time and place but play off against each other in order to illustrate Hoffmann's recognition of the unattainabilty of the early Romantic utopian ideals of a synthesis between history and poetics. The tale is marked by duplicity: both a doubling of the narrative strand and a conflicting, often confusing plot contribute to the unique character of the text and challenge traditional strategies of interpretation.
The narrative 'autobiography' of the cat Murr opens the text; this strand provides continuity for the greater portion of the novel and ends the work with a certain amount of closure. The Kreisler tale, on the other hand, not only starts abruptly and with no discernible introduction, but is continuously interrupted by Murr's own writing. Thus while the cat's tale is complete, consecutive, and for the most part coherent, the human narrative is only partially comprehensive, often incoherent, and not always consecutive. This reversal of the natural order plays a significant role in the reader's understanding of the story, often directing sympathy and attention to the uncanny animal world rather than the familiar scene at the Sieghartsweiler court. In addition, the structural unity of Murr's narrative contributes to his own credibility; the biographer of Kreisler, on the other hand, not only admits his imperfect knowledge of the events of the plot, but loses any pretense of reliable narration when his tale is challenged by the cat's musings.
Many events in the Kreisler narrative find parallels in Murr's report. This can disturb the reader by drawing attention to the ridiculousness of the comparison, but it can also have a critical function, calling the human events themselves into question. Kreisler's withdrawal from court life to the cloister, for instance, is paralleled by Murr's frantic escape into his master's oven: an indication that both actions are not only temporary but futile. Both characters submit to duels in order to retain their social standing, and Kreisler's duet with Julia is complemented by Murr's duet with his 'wife' Miesmies. All of these parallels are underscored by a more fundamental comparison between the figures of Murr and Kreisler, both of whom are artists, suffering for their art as well as their love.
Although the two narratives are interspersed in such a way as to make the reader think that the events in each are simultaneous, in fact the text extends itself in both directions beyond the narrated events of the human world. The novel's structure reveals itself to be circular in two respects: Murr's own narrative ends but finds its beginning in the events of the royal festival, when Abraham discovers the kitten nearly drowned by the storm; so too does Abraham's final letter to Kreisler point to the beginning of book, where the Kreisler tale was inaugurated by a discussion of the festival upon Kreisler's return to court. In addition, citations play a role in forming unity and circularity: both narratives open with quotes from literary forbears (Murr quotes Goethe, Kreisler's tale is a citation of Sterne), and while Murr's narrative closes with an appeal for further reading in the next volume -- in a sense a citation of Hoffmann himself -- Kreisler's tale ends with his reading of the letter, thus a quotation of Abraham.
The function of such diverse methods of structural fragmentation is manifold, but centers around Hoffmann's own ideals of the literary realm. Rejecting the paradigm of Novalis and Schlegel, who believed that a reconciliation or a harmonious balance between nature, history, and mankind could be found in poetic creation, Hoffmann instead thematizes the very attainability of this harmony. His duplicitous narrative structure serves to parody any number of hermeneutic codes and genre definitions; the smug Bildungsroman of Murr's youth destroys its own unity, as does the Künstler- or Gesellschaftsroman of the Kreisler strand. The juxtaposition of Murr's 'autobiography' with Kreisler's less-than-complete 'biography' calls attention to the fiction of each, and the novel as a whole resists any attempts at generic classification. By illustrating -- and simultaneously undercutting -- the independence of Murr's grotesque realm and Kreisler's social reality, Hoffmann denies the possibility of a poetic harmony. The barrier remains, the internal logic of each strand prevails: autonomy is upheld, while agreement becomes not only impossible, but unnecessary.
IV. Critical Review of Recent Scholarship
Theodore Ziolkowski's comprehensive study German Romanticism and its Institutions presents a thorough examination of the role of five types of institutions -- mining, law, the madhouse, the university, and the museum -- for the Romantic movement in general and for individual authors and works. Ziolkowski's focus is broad, but his detailed analysis of individual authors and texts makes not only for an enlightening presentation, but for enjoyable reading as well. His framework could easily provide impetus for a graduate course on German literature of the Romantic period, focusing either on specific institutions and their reflection in literature, or on specific authors and the illustration of institutional moments in their works.
Ziolkowski opens his study with a discussion of previous scholarship and remarks on the curious imbalance between Anglo-American studies of German institutions and Continental, often Dutch, inquiries. He notes that his work is a move away from the literary biography which has been the standard hermeneutic mode to a "literary history" in the most literal sense of the term. Romanticism for Ziolkowski encompasses the period between 1789 and 1815, although he does make reference to works outside of these boundaries (most particularly to Grass and Hofmannsthal). Objecting to an abundance of either disjointed analyses or broad characterizations of social trends, he wishes instead to seek, like the Romantics themselves, a unifying principle. This can be found, he believes, by examining the way in which cultural institutions are portrayed in literature: "if the spirit of the whole manifests itself in its institutions, then the appropriate way in which to seek to understand the whole is not on the abstract level of social theory but through these very institutions."  Anticipating the claim that his approach may invalidate itself, he insists on the relevance of the topic, asserting that Romanticism was by no means merely an inward-looking or escapist literature: like the institution itself, the Romantic writer "stood between reality and the individual, oriented not only toward the infinite and the miraculous but also toward the social actuality of his times." 
Ziolkowski then begins his analysis with an examination into the institution of mining, which, he claims, supplied the Romantic writers with images and metaphors for their literature. Emphasizing the difference between English mining -- primarily the dirty and hazardous coal mines epitomized by Blake's "dark satanic mills" -- and the German fascination with the mountain mine as a source of gold, silver, and other valuable metals, Ziolkowski notes how many Romantic writers were themselves somehow affiliated with the mining industry. He then examines the image and role of mining in several key works and ascertains that the mine represents a descent into the soul, focusing either on history, moral questions, or issues of sexuality.
The institution of law also played an important role for Romantic literature, supplying both plots and themes throughout the period. Again, Ziolkowski discusses the many authors who were trained in law before turning to literature: more, he notes, than in England or France. The debate between natural law and the codification of traditional societal strictures is briefly thematized; then the importance of the law within narrative frames is explicated. Hoffmann in particular serves as a notable example: the style of his legal briefs, Ziolkowski writes, "anticipates and then parallels the clarity of exposition in his narratives." 
The madhouse and the institution of psychiatric practice provides the material for the next chapter. Noting the ideological shift at the beginning of the 19th century towards a belief that the insane could be treated and cured rather than "merely stowed away out of sight,"  Ziolkowski draws a parallel to the shift in literary portrayals of insanity from "madness as a motif" to the metaphorical use of psychology. The novel, it is shown, provided the perfect vehicle for Romantic writers to explore the psychology of characters, the causes and motivations of madness. As literature became psychological, so too did psychiatry become fictionalized, with an increasing reliance upon narrative strategies to illustrate the workings of the mind. Again the writings of Hoffmann serve as primary examples, works in which "fiction has become an autonomous mode of psychiatric thought." 
From the madhouse we move to the university, and indeed, Ziolkowski comments that the early universities were little more than gathering places for rowdy young men to drink and brawl. After the reforms at Jena, however, the lectures by Fichte about his Wissenschaftslehre and by Schelling about his Identitätsphilosophie guided Jena's university to the center of scholarship for the early Romantic movement. Ziolkowski examines a number of theoretical writings about the university systems at Halle, Heidelberg, and Berlin (in particular Humboldt), and notes that the theme of the student as the hero of popular literature was a common one at this time. He concludes, without much textual support, that for the Romantic writer the university "constituted the appropriate model of the transcendental mind in its totality and unity." 
Ziolkowski's final chapter deals with the museum as a model for art and literature of the period; he expands this institution to take in discussions about the figure of the artist in literature and about the history of art and religion. Schinkel's Altes Museum in Berlin is seen as the institutionalization of the Romantic worship of art -- a temple in every sense. The symbiosis of religion and art, as seen particularly in Wackenroder and Tieck, is supported by the predominance of the artist as a modern protagonist. In conclusion, Ziolkowski notes that the newfound critical interest in Romantic art and literature is a reflection of our own age, "because we sense more or less consciously that we live in a time analogous to Romanticism to the extent that traditional institutions are being challenged and modified in response to a new Zeitgeist or, to use a more timely term, model or paradigm." 
In light of this study, I would propose to structure a graduate course on the Romantic period around the portrayals, in significant texts and contexts, of the five institutions Ziolkowski examines. For the context of mining, a good example would be perhaps the Märchen of the Brothers Grimm, from whence the Western world has come to know the character of Snow White and her gold-mining dwarves: the issues of sexuality (the Prince, Snow White herself -- and why does she live with seven dwarves?) and guilt (the wicked stepmother, the powerless father) certainly come to mind for this text. Another good representative could be Tieck's Der Runenberg: Christian himself (even his name!) and his fantastic sightings of the voluptuous mysterious woman with the runic tablet, as well as his reasons for leaving the stability of his bourgeois marriage in order to return to the mountain -- all of these show a concern for issues of sexuality and history that would make for intriguing discussion.
For the institution of law, an obvious text would be Hoffmann's Das Fräulein von Scuderi: set in the midst of the French Golden Age, the plot centers around a murder and the repercussions of arresting an innocent suspect. In addition, the choice of Hoffmann is fortuitous, since, as Ziolkowski elaborates, the text is not only about the law: it was written by a trained jurist. Another possibility would be to examine the theoretical conceptions of natural and societal law, or even to focus on one and trace the changes over the course of the period. An intriguing case in point would be to discuss the differences between Novalis' conceptualization of the law of nature, as opposed to Stifter's formulation of "das sanfte Gesetz," also a form of natural law.
The concept of insanity and the institution of the insane asylum provides a more difficult task; certainly there is no end to the portrayals of madness amongst the Romantics (Tieck's Blonder Eckbert, Hoffmann's Kreisler tales, many works by Kleist), but I might find it interesting to discuss instead Büchner's Woyzeck. Here we see not only a fascination (as also in his Lenz) with the concept and documentation of the manifestations of insanity, but with both the causes -- be they societally or medically induced -- and with the consequences as well. Notably, Ziolkowski does not mention Büchner in any of his discussions, although this can perhaps be ascribed to the temporal limitations of his study.
The model of the university and its implications for Romantic literature is also a very challenging topic. Perhaps it is best to keep discussion of the educational system on a more theoretical level, since finding a text better adapted to such discussion than Wilhelm Meister would prove difficult. Even Ziolkowski shows a marked tendency to shy away from fictional accounts in this chapter; his discussions of Novalis' Lehrlinge zu Sais and Eichendorff's Auch ich war in Arkadien are, however, exceptionally interesting. Unfortunately I have not read either of those works; instead, I might propose to take up certain writings by Fichte or even Schlegel: the "Rede über die Mythologie," although not concerned with the university system, shows the dialogue form so characteristic of university theoreticians, and thematizes issues of literary and cultural relevance at the same time.
The final section, combining the institution of the museum with a more generalized account of the position of art and religion in the aesthetic realm, could clearly be served by any number of Romantic texts: Novalis' poetry, Schlegel's fragments, Tieck's fairy tales. An interesting choice, as Ziolkowski also suggests, would be Wackenroder's and Tieck's Herzensergießungen eines kunstliebenden Klosterbruders: as the very title suggests, Josef Berglinger's pious reverence for music is discussed philosophically in regards to the discussion of the 'zwei wunderbare Sprachen' of art and nature, which enable mankind to comprehend the divine. Another possibility would be to choose almost any text of Hoffmann's -- perhaps Der goldne Topf or even Kater Murr -- and problematize the figure of the artist and his conflict in society.
Ziolkowski's book is, I believe, an excellent source of information and an instructive criticism of the period; any course modeled on such a detailed account could only fall short of the compass of the study. Nonetheless, a survey course which focuses on the question of the institutions in Romantic literature would be a rewarding and productive experiment. As Ziolkowski underscores, it is necessary to integrate his analysis into a broader understanding of the cultural forces of the era: most of the texts mentioned above could fit into several (if not all) of the proposed categories of discussion. Ziolkowski himself concludes that three factors link the institutions he discusses and "reveal themselves as basic characteristics of the Romantic view of the world: the belief in history, the autonomy of art, and the unity of being."  By examining the role of the institutions in this light, we can reach a better understanding of the fundamental issues of the period.
Written and © Nancy Thuleen in 1995 for German 704 at the University of Wisconsin-Madison.
If needed, cite using something like the following:
Thuleen, Nancy. "Romanticism and Vormärz, 1800-1848." Website Article. 21 December 1995. <http://www.nthuleen.com/papers/704final.html>.