Photo by Francisco Antunes
Before the challenges of an Oxford Trinity term started, I spent a week in Alsace, one of Europe’s great borderlands. Alsace occupies a plain between the Vosges and Black Forest mountains, full of vineyards, medieval villages and ruined castles. Perhaps the most famous of the Alsatian castles is Haut-Koenigsbourg, which makes for a rather unsettling visit, raising questions about memory, identity and heritage.
On a windswept hill above the Alsace plain, Haut-Koenigsbourg was first built in 1147 by the Hohenstaufen of the Holy Roman Empire. Its fortifications were extended in the fifteenth century, by the various disreputable families to whom the Holy Roman Emperors leased the castle. Attacked by the Swedes during the Thirty Years War, the castle was badly damaged and abandoned in 1633, becoming just another Alsatian hilltop ruin.
|Kaiser Wilhelm II, castle enthusiast|
All this changed with the annexation of Alsace by a newly unified Germany in 1871, part of the price France paid for its defeat in the Franco-Prussian war. Presented as a gift to Kaiser Wilhelm II, from 1900 to 1906 Hochkoenigsburg became the subject of one of the most ambitious restoration projects of the long nineteenth century, as an army of artisans, architects and engineers descended on the castle. The rebuilt fortress was to function as a celebration, and proclamation, of German imperial rule over Alsace. This ideological agenda is present in the very fabric of Haut-Koenigsbourg – in the Hohenstaufen and Habsburg family trees inscribed in multiple rooms, the massive imperial eagle mounted on the highest turret, the frescos in the great hall showing military victories, and the sheer triumphant scale of the building itself. Here, Kaiser Wilhelm’s ambitions in 20C Europe are expressed in, and legitimised through, medieval fantasy. Here, in a bizarre fusion, Game of Thrones meets Prussian militarism.