ERMENGARDE ST. JOHN in AFTER LÜTZEN

 

Ermengarde St. John by Nathalie Novi, her face the full moon wreathed in flames. This edition from Lacombe's Classiques Illustrés has just released in both France and Spain.

She is one of my favourite characters from public domain youth literature because I could relate to her family issues as a teen (my dad and hers put pressure on us to study harder!). Therefore she frequently appears in my classic literature crossover fics.

Most recently in "After Lützen," my 30YW Les Mis AU-crossover, her surname changed to Johannitz and her hometown from Oxford to Leipzig! She will even get, by following the widowed Queen Eleanor and her freaks into Sweden, to meet a child Queen Christina and befriend her (just like she did with Sara in canon), becoming her handmaid... what better day than today, Gustavus Adolphus Day, to announce the news?

IN MEMORIAM GUSTAVI ADOLPHI MMXXI - GOTHENBURG 4TH CENTENNIAL SPECIAL

 This year marks the fourth centennial of the foundation of Gothenburg by a twentyish Gustavus Adolphus in 1621, and there is commemorative artwork of him all over town so I thought I would share a few I took during my summer holidays:

When he founded Gothenburg and Borâs and Sundsvall and many other localities (in Sweden and elsewhere in the North and Baltic!) in 1621 it was a tranquil peacetime year of newlywed youth, a decade away from the battlefields of the heart of Europe and especially from the fog and the chaos of Lützen...

 

To the memory of Gustavus Adolphus Karlsson of Vasa

*Nyköping, Sweden, 9th of December 1594 
 + Lützen, Saxony, 6th of November 1632

His spouse Mary Eleanor (next to the throne), their daughter Christina Augusta 
(in his arms), his right-hand man Chancellor Axel Oxenstierna (next to the throne),
 his courtiers and his people, his officers and soldiers, will always
 keep his memory alive, as long as Sweden and freedom exist.

Beloved ruler of nations and leader of armies,

consort, father, friend, and lover

Inspired by thirst

for glory, on the field of battle quaffed

instead death's bitter draught.

The last word was missing in his epic song:

the word that crowns every achievement.

The mourners have done their duty, right or wrong:

they wrote it in blood and bereavement.

He left us when we (and he) expected it the least, 
in the prime of his life and at the climax of his career,
before he could be tarnished by the failing vigour of an older age
or by the corruption brought upon him by success. 
A single bullet, just like any other, 
suddenly struck his back and entered his noble chest, 
to quench a flame that never could or should have burned brighter.