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I have a lot more to write about - the question is whether the readers want to read it.

Surely you are being ironic? :)

OF COURSE we'd want to read it! (Sorry for shouting)

More of these fabulous essays? Keep 'em coming, we'll be reading. As if you didn't know that, with a teaser like
the Oversight (Hand, Eye and Heart)
:D
I'll jump: 'The Oversight? What's that then? Tell us about it then!' :p
Please continue, I'm hooked.
 
Enticing the Muses: The Merchants and the Arts



Of all the arts, Bremen is most commonly associated with music. The visual arts – sculpture and painting – flourished in Italy and the Netherlands without evoking any answering school in Germany. German literature from 1500 on tended to be dark, heavy and philosophical – in equal parts impenetrable and unpopular. There is no Bremen school of poetry, dance or cuisine worthy of the name.

The only notable architectural style associated with Bremen is the unfortunate post-Reformation ‘sea-castle’ style. Luridly if appropriately termed the ‘drunken-dwarvish’ style by Mill, the dark colors, pointed windows and profusion of stonework decorations evoke a certain horrified fascination – and a deep, lasting sense of pity for the people who must live therein.

But in the world of music, the name of Bremen is synonymous with glorious achievement. Names such as Buxtehude, the Bachs (father and sons), the Haydn brothers, Dittersdorf , Mozart, Beethoven, Mendellsohn, Schumann and Schubert are all linked, in some fashion, with the Golden City. For generation after generation, musical genius made its home in the churches and concert halls of Bremen. And how did this constellation of stars come to settle by the shores of the Baltic?

The answer is beer.



In her infancy, Bremen possessed only one item for export that was of reliable quality: her beer. Despite the money to be made from shipping the goods of others, the city needed a high-value, low-bulk trade good of reliable quality and quantity, produced at home. The brewers of the Baltic shores were eager and able to provide not one but a variety of fine brews, and these were soon in demand in places as far away as England, France, Spain and Italy. Other raw materials and manufactured goods might come and go, but barring war the export of immense amounts of beer was a dependable constant.

The first Archbishop of Bremen to incline into the Protestant camp was Cristoph I (1511-1558), Duke of Braunschweig-Luneburg. He first proposed the imposition of a small tax – one pfennig per keg – as an export duty on beer. The money was to go into a special fund for the construction of a vast cathedral and the establishment of a choir, a school of music and the purchase of an organ.

Not being able to openly thwart the Archbishop, who was still ruler of Bremen in somewhat more than name, the Great Councils voted to allow the fee to be collected but not spent on church projects. Over the next few decades, the power struggle between the Archbishop and the Councils moved into other areas and the collected funds were used to construct a concert hall and to commission works both sacred and secular. Soon thereafter, the first permanent composer-in-residence was hired – the otherwise undistinguished Zeitsler – and a distinguished tradition was launched.

Control of the funds passed to an Arts Council by the early 1600’s, the whole being overseen by the Hands and Eyes in the usual fashion. And as the funds doubled and redoubled, concert halls sprouted across Bremen-controlled territory and municipalities vied with the nobility for the sponsorship of the musical talents of Europe. Competition with Catholic Vienna and Paris spurred this pursuit of music to amazing heights.

Some of this flood of musical output was mediocre, pedestrian and banal, and some was frankly bad. Genius does not come when called – or when purchased – but the vast majority of the enormous compositional output was solid craftsmanship. An example of this early period would be the career of J.S. Bach. Not well known or appreciated in his lifetime, the rediscovery of his works by Mendellsohn led to a fierce revival of interest in Renaissance and Baroque music.

Repeated – almost constant – wars with Catholic Austria, France and Genoa put a sharper point on the competition. Bremen’s armies fought tenaciously on the defensive but were rarely risked in offensive campaigns, denying the city-state the ‘bragging rights’ of martial glory. Her fabulous mercantile profits were fading during this period as other nations came to compete in the market place, and her merchants were reduced to buying painting, jewelry, sculpture and even architecture from foreign sources.

But through the lapses and disappointments there was music, music in abundance, all paid for by the Bishop’s Pfennig and oceans of exported beer. Music became the pride and joy of a city that was sensitive to the aristocratic sneers of her European neighbors, a city-state that was isolated in religion, beset militarily and steadily losing her dominance of European markets. Music came to be viewed as almost a uniquely Protestant virtue, and any talent or success of composers in Paris and Vienna was bitterly resented.

One such resented talent was Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. In his early career he made the obligatory tour of the north German concert halls, performing to packed houses and rapturous applause. His subsequent service with the Bishop of Salzburg and settlement in Vienna was viewed with deep regret in Bremen, but if anything the loss of Handel to England cut more deeply. In service to George of Hanover, Handel followed his patron when George came to the throne of the island kingdom. The warm relations of the two countries helped ease the blow, but did nothing to fill the Cristoph Hall.

That famous landmark of old Bremen was begun in 1704 and greatly expanded in the middle years of the century. The ‘vast bestiary of improbable forms’ had served as concert hall, opera and music school since it first opened, but had never boasted a composer in residence of any true merit. It had long been thought that the position belonged to Handel if he wanted it, and it had to sting that he evidently did not.

And so, until nearly the turn of the century, the finest facility in Europe was host to great singers and instrumentalists, a magnificent orchestra and a peerless opera company, all of whom were performing the works of foreign composers.



In 1791, the Count von Walsegg zu Stuppach approached Mozart – anonymously – with a commission for a great Requiem Mass. Despite great success with opera, Mozart’s financial affairs were perilous; the high life in Vienna was expensive and Mozart was utterly unable to manage his money. Terrified of the mysterious stranger but desperate for money, Mozart accepted the commission and began work on what he superstitiously thought would be his own funeral music. And as he worked, he began to sicken.

Franz Josef Haydn, meanwhile, was approaching the end of his career with the Esterhazy family in Hungary. The recent death of his patron meant that Haydn was at least temporarily free of obligations, and he decided to travel. And there was, of course, no place more appealing than Salzburg where his brother Michael was the court musician. While in Salzburg, nothing could be more natural than a sojourn to the glittering capital, Vienna, and attendance at social functions such as operas and concerts.

While in Vienna, the Haydns met many of the musical luminaries of the day including Salieri, publisher Hoffmeister and Mozart’s former pupil Johann Hummel. From them, they learned how very ill – and how desperately pressed – Mozart and his young wife truly were.

Although the position would have been his – or Michael’s – at a word, Haydn arranged with Hoffmeister and Mozart’s wife to spirit the ailing genius out of the country. The scattered pages of the Requiem were actually left on the floor of Mozart’s apartment, never to be completed. And whether it was the freedom from that baleful influence or simply the better doctors available, Mozart rallied and recovered his health in Bremen. His debts were settled, his living expenses paid and the composer was free – at last – to teach if he chose and write whatever he wished.

Had his good friend Haydn not intervened, Mozart might well have died that winter in Vienna. Instead of a marble tomb in Bremen he might have found a nameless pauper’s grave, and the world would never have known his later masterpieces. Had Mozart remained in Vienna, it is hardly conceivable that Beethoven would ever have had the chance to study under the master – entirely possible that we might today not even know who Beethoven was.

And Haydn? He hired Hummel to provide music for the Esterhazy family while he spent his retirement in Bremen writing those last five symphonies.

And – with Mozart and Beethoven – developing a taste for beer.
 
Ah, an essay on the cultural life in Bremen. And we learn that beer makes the world go round. Beck's, I suppose? ;) :D
 
QUOTE]Originally posted by Director


The answer is beer.
In her infancy, Bremen possessed only one item for export that was of reliable quality: her beer.
[/QUOTE]

Well I don´t know about quality. Becks, hmm very water like if you ask me, but I remember that there were another brand, Hemelinger I think. It was pretty good :p
 
Director, since I can't host any maps for my own AARs I'm always grateful for those that can and do.

Another great essay indeed.
 
Yet another great essay. I love those small "what-if" details throughout the story! :)

I know many a staunch Good Templar that wouldn't agree with your view of beer, but alas I digress... ;)

Let's just quote our favourite booze-hound, Homer Simpson: "Alcohol: the cause of and solution to life's all problems!"
 
Although the position would have been his – or Michael’s – at a word, Haydn arranged with Hoffmeister and Mozart’s wife to spirit the ailing genius out of the country. The scattered pages of the Requiem were actually left on the floor of Mozart’s apartment, never to be completed. And whether it was the freedom from that baleful influence or simply the better doctors available, Mozart rallied and recovered his health in Bremen. His debts were settled, his living expenses paid and the composer was free – at last – to teach if he chose and write whatever he wished.

Had his good friend Haydn not intervened, Mozart might well have died that winter in Vienna. Instead of a marble tomb in Bremen he might have found a nameless pauper’s grave, and the world would never have known his later masterpieces. Had Mozart remained in Vienna, it is hardly conceivable that Beethoven would ever have had the chance to study under the master – entirely possible that we might today not even know who Beethoven was.

How very tempting... If only Bremen had become a world power, the world of classical music would have been far better. :D

Another very well written essay. Also, another building brick in your alternate history. I have never read an AAR that created such a plausible and rich world.
 
Sytass - um, actually there were over one hundred brewers producing for export in this period. Perhaps Becks was one of them - I'll have to research it. As soon as I get a google link to that alternate universe... what's that dial-up?

I actually don't drink much beer. Dark beer is OK, Guiness is too much (sorry). If I drink I like wine and beer with food, vodka, rum or tequila in cocktails - and ONLY premium stuff, please. For a long time my favorite beer was Budweiser - not to drink, but because my family raised the rice they used to brew it ($).

Judge - the line about beer making up a majority of Bremen's early exports is true. The breweries only declined with wars (especially WWI and II). My sources say German beer was popular in England at least through the turn of the last century (1900).

stnylan - this one was a lot of fun to write - and it's all true! Except that when his patron died, Haydn went first I think to England and only came to Vienna after Mozart's death. They never actually met but corresponded and were on good terms.

Commandante - my personal view of beer is perhaps not reflected in this essay. But the thought of the Haydn brothers, Mozart and young Beethoven 'riffing' of an evening is pretty amusing.

Stuyvesant - IF Bremen was a world power! Haven't you seen the maps? What more do you want - Russia? :D

Thanks for the compliments. I really enjoy taking a premise and following it out to its 'logical' conclusion. The strange, skewed quasi-government of Bremen has been a lot of fun.

Beethoven was famous in his own lifetime chiefly because he devoted so much time and effort to telling everyone how wonderful he was. Bach, in contrast, was known as a minor composer and a fine keyboard artist until his works were rediscovered and popularized by Mendellsohn.

Is anyone a P.D.Q. Bach fan? If you aren't, you should be. Peter will forgive me if I list his website HERE.
 
Originally posted by Director

Judge - the line about beer making up a majority of Bremen's early exports is true. The breweries only declined with wars (especially WWI and II). My sources say German beer was popular in England at least through the turn of the last century (1900).


Ok England is after all a beer country and maybe the beer in those days was somewhat better than Becks (at least in comparison with other brands at that time):p
 
I agree with the others that you're weaving a very plausible alternative history here. I also liked the different ending to Mozart's life. :) I followed P,D, Q Bach from the beginning but it has been a few years (my record player died) since I last listened to him.

Joe
 
Sed quis custodiet ipsos Custodes? (Who guards the Guardians?)



It is always disconcerting for us to look at the culture of others, and frequently the closer the resemblance to our own the greater the differences jar us. Much of what we believe, we unthinkingly take for granted. Much of our culture we inhale with the air of childhood, and it seems that our way of doing things is therefore not only right and proper, but best.

Government, in the forms and practices of that government, is a critical component of culture. No-one raised in the Parliamentary, limited monarchy of Great Britain is truly comfortable when contemplating the absolute tyranny of Russia, for example – the more so when that examination is made up close and in person.

Let us then consider the peculiar governmental structures of Bremen and how those shaped and were shaped by the city’s transition to state and empire.



In the beginning, all the coalescing nation-states were absolute monarchies, and the more absolute the monarch were the faster the state achieved nation-hood and the more tightly-bound were the individual parts. Thus, our early proto-states in Western Europe - France, Spain, England, Austria, Poland and Bremen – can be sorted by the degree of ‘absoluteness’ with which they were ruled and the relative cohesion of their national parts.

France had the advantage of many excellent monarchs, and those kings had at their service a powerful army with which to impose their will. The armies – and their devoted, professional commanders – made it possible to rapidly assemble the various Duchies into some semblance of the modern French state.

Unfortunately, this reliance on military power meant that France was almost continuously at war, and the stresses thus generated led to the repeated centrifugal fracturing of the state. The armies made it possible to assemble the state – repeatedly – but the least relaxation of vigilance led to mass defections and revolts. France, therefore, was a kingdom of Sisyphus, forever compelled to roll the stone of unification up the slope of war, only to see that stone roll back down in pieces.

Austria came into being through a process of slow, steady growth. The individual pieces were thoroughly pacified and integrated into the imperial framework, but cultural and linguistic differences meant the various peoples of the Osterreich never felt any deep sense of attachment to it. The extensive, expensive bureaucracy made it possible to maintain control of a vast number of people who had nothing in common, but the bureaucracy was stifling – and it engendered obedience without loyalty. Hence where France was forever in a dynamic state of reconstruction, the Empire of the Hapsburgs was tightly focused on internal stability to the exclusion of all else. Also, the explosive growth of Bremen denied the richer parts of north and western Germany to the Hapsburgs, forcing them to be content with the poorer Hungarian and Balkan territories.

Old Castile became Espana without ever managing to absorb any of the other kingdoms of the peninsula – Portugal, Aragon and Granada. Absolute in power, secure in the linguistic and cultural unanimity of the homeland, her rulers looked far abroad to a foreign empire of vast scope and wealth. Their government changed little, which explains both the rapid rise and inglorious fall of that overseas empire. Spain was expansionist, but too rigid to adapt to changing circumstances; rather than bend, she broke.

Poland can scarcely be said to have had a government at all. With the nobles grimly determined to hold onto their rights at any hazard, the Polish ‘kings’ and nation paid over and over the price for disunion and disorganization. Hobbled by their own procedures, the Polish nobles produced a government that prevented a monarch from attaining any power whatsoever. Unfortunately, this system left them completely at the mercy of states that did develop strong central governments, and Poland repeatedly came to ruin between the Scylla of her nobles’ pride and the Charybdis of foreign power.

England began as an absolute monarchy, tempered it with a Parliament of men of every station in the kingdom and finally settled into an efficient limited monarchy run by practical, professional ministers. Many an English king (and queen) came to see that what was given up in terms of absolute power was doubly regained in the loyalty and enthusiasm of subjects who felt they had a voice and a stake in the kingdom. As with Spain, England’s primary growth was overseas. And like Spain, extended wars cost her almost all of her territories outside Europe, but her more flexible representative government enabled her to keep Canada and large holdings in France.

Bremen, of course, had no tradition of authoritarian rule. The political power of the Archbishops began dwindling with the riots of the early 1400’s and never approached the absolute authority of a king of France or an Emperor of Austria. The town council – heavily dominated by the master merchants of the Hanse – was capable of running the city-state itself but seemingly ill-suited to the task of pacification and rule in the surrounding territories. Thus, any government for Bremen must take into account the twin forces of rapid territorial growth and domestic political vacuum.

Doktor Gropius spent several chapters in political discussions, all of an introductory style and content. The meat of these discourses compares favorably with Machiavelli, although where the Italian is circuitous and judicious the German tends to brutal abbreviation. In any event, the Doktor’s extended use of Roman examples led to the outright adoption of Roman forms and offices by the men who studied under him.

Thus, when Hanover was first taken, the town council nominated three men for the office of military governor. From those three, the Archbishop selected Heinrich Gustloff and sent him off to rule Hanover as military governor, or Proconsul.

As the years went on, the power and influence of the Archbishops declined further and further. The town council proved itself incapable of managing what was, by that time, a considerable collection of German states. And so, beginning with the Munster Reforms that followed the Religious War of 1521, Bremen’s government mutated into something quite unlike the other European states.

Even the name changed. Too large and diverse to be the city or state of Bremen – and never having been a kingdom or duchy, grand or otherwise – one of the first acts of the new government was to style itself as the North German Customs Union. Later known as the Greater Bremen Customs Union, the very name emphasized that this government was concerned more with security and trade than with any monarchial pomp or imperial splendor,

Each province was to elect a council, whether noble (like Erz) or some mix that might include nobles, ecclesiastics and laity. The size of the local council, and the methods of election, was typically left to local law and custom. The Senate (composed at first of only the European Proconsuls) and the Archbishop appointed Proconsuls to rule in conjunction with the provincial councils. The Proconsuls were reassigned to different provinces, spending on average some five to eight years in a given state. Once recruited and appointed, they typically served until retirement or death with occasional periods of vacation or simple unemployment. The local councils had wide latitude in local affairs but were required to defer to the Proconsul if he insisted. In addition, the Proconsuls met more or less annually, with the Archbishop presiding and functioning as chief minister, and this Proconsular Senate handled all ‘national’ affairs. Powerful nobles in conquered territories (those who survived the annexation) were typically brought into the local council or made Proconsul and shuffled off to another province.

There were abuses, of course, and corruption and scandal and treason and revolt. And no-one can convincingly argue that the system was efficient or fair, but it did have several great strengths to offset its convoluted complexity. Firstly, because their time in one place was so strictly limited, it was difficult for a Proconsul to build a local power base from which to topple the whole. Secondly, great latitude was allowed to local interests in many matters, which gave those people a stake in the government as a whole. Thirdly, the Proconsular Senate was small enough to make meaningful discourse and rapid action possible at need.

This form lasted some sixty years, collapsing in the chaos of Wilhelm Roon’s attempted coup and assassination in 1584. In its later evolution, the government settled into a more familiar form. Each province elected two Proconsuls, one to be available to serve as executive in another province and the other to attend and vote in the national Senate, over which the Archbishop or (after 1648) the Chancellor presided.

Through it all, the central government retained real power, local interests kept a voice in local matters, and Bremen stayed together. And in the background there were the officers of the Hand, the Eye and the Heart.



Arguably the greatest collection of twaddle in the western world is the heap of waste-paper dealing with the adventures of these agents. Whether perusing the railings of Thomas Paine or the romantic frothing of Dumas, this author keeps a large quantity of skepticism handy and applies it liberally at need.

In the very beginning, the office was the creation of Archbishop Gerhard II, Count Schwarzburg. The men he chose were all young, mostly literate and mainly recruited from the merchant classes and petty nobility. They were charged with the inspection of property, empowered to sit as judges in some cases, and strictly enjoined to root out corruption and financial impropriety.

They were never a monastic order, nor were they particularly secret. Their powers varied considerably over the centuries, waxing and waning according to their political friends and foes, and eventually they divided into three separate agencies. All three were soon detached from the Archbishop’s authority, although they continued to report to him as the head of government. All three agencies received funding from the national treasury as well as fines and banking fees. Selection for membership was a rigorous process, and widely sought after.

An Officer of the Eye might be settled or on a roving commission. Either way, he was empowered and required to collect information and forbidden to act upon it save by report to the Proconsul, Senate and Archbishop. In the main, these agents were concerned with political impropriety and corruption, although they certainly played their part in espionage both foreign and domestic.

The Officers of the Heart were limited to financial matters. Their rigorous standardization of weights and measures made Bremen the standard of Europe, and their enforcement of the laws against usury made banking safe, dependable and international. All investigations into taxes, duties, fees, banking and the mint were handled here.

It is with the Officers of the Hand that most authors concern themselves. They have been called spies and assassins and compared to the Musketeers of France. In truth, they partook of some of all of these qualities, and more.

The Left Hand concerned itself completely with espionage. They investigated friends and allies as intensely as enemies and neutrals, and kept the vigil against the spies of other nations. An Officer of the Right Hand might live all his life in one spot, typically serving as judge and justice of the peace, or might work on a roving commission. Sometimes paired with an Officer of the Eye, the Hand was the embodiment of the power of the state and carried absolute authority. Any state functionary – even rarely but famously, Proconsuls and Senators - could be overruled, fined, imprisoned, removed or executed. The only requirement was that any use of the power of the Hand caused the agent to be tried by a panel of Proconsuls (or Senators), Eyes and Hearts. More like a military court martial than a civil trial, these panels were a sure check to an aggressive agent of the Hand.

The most famous panel was the one that sat in the case of Franz Nagel in 1548. Present in Brandenburg when Proconsul Wilhelm Roon proclaimed himself King of Germany, the agent pulled a pistol and shot him dead. The panel determined that Agent Nagel should have first attempted less lethal means. They sentenced him therefore likewise to die, but magnanimously allowed him to take his own life in expiation.

A final power of these agencies was their Masters charge to present the List of Appointment for Proconsuls. Although the Senate could – and often did – overrule these recommendations, the endorsement of the Eye, Hand and Heart – or the lack thereof – was a powerful political weapon.

“Every government derives its power from the consent of the governed. No matter how absolute a king may be, if enough of the nobles and ecclesiastics and people rise up, the king must yield. Always remember: the best attainment of your aim is through leading wolves, not by driving sheep.” ‘Gedanken auf Kriege’, Johannes Gropius
 
judge - remember also that pilsner beer (what most Americans mean by beer) had not yet been invented. And the Hanse had a huge trading presence in England - an entire walled town called the Steelyard - that they maintained until Elizabeth threw them out. The Hanse insisted on trade concessions in England and refused to give reciprocal rights to English traders in the Baltic.

Storey - I'm so glad you like it. I think of it as my 'through the looking glass' series, Possibly more of a funhouse mirror than Dodgson's looking-glass. :D

Peter Schickele has a syndicated program on national Public Radio (different days and times around the country). It's a VERY entertaining look at the wheres and whys of music - all sorts. HIGHLY recommended. Informative without taking itself too seriously.

My turntables died too - the last ones I lost when I sold the bar. And a lot of my collection isn't available on CD. *sigh*.

Valdemar - HEY! You snuck that one in on me! Glad to hear from you!
 
Originally posted by Director

My turntables died too - the last ones I lost when I sold the bar. And a lot of my collection isn't available on CD. *sigh*.


Why don't you buy or rent a cheap one and then sit down and copy it unto CD?

I remember my dad did that when I was a kid with his old Laquered records (not sure its called that in english) onto cassetes, before he got rid of the old record player that could play those damn things.

V
 
Another good essay Director. Do you have any idea how many more are there to go?
 
Hey Director, I'm reading but the time I have for posting is mostly used up on beta discussions at the moment.

This is great though, and although you're writing with a very different style to Napoleon, your gift for getting game events into the discussion still shines through.

As for your turntable, I recommend a Pro-ject turntable. Designed in the UK by Henley Designs and made in the Czech Republic, they are good value and good quality.

EDIT: No, I don't work for them. :D
 
I love the phylosophical undertones of the essays, Director.

Answers my question of what others think of as they play the game :D you play a nice game, and you think nice thoughts.

Me, on the other other hand... :eek:
 
Great essay. The early government reminds me a bit of what I've read about the Ottoman Empire, what with the incorporation of defeated nobles and the shuffling of governors.

However, the greatest lines this time weren't about the government or the intelligence services, they were these:
And in the background there were the officers of the Hand, the Eye and the Heart.



Arguably the greatest collection of twaddle in the western world is the heap of waste-paper dealing with the adventures of these agents. Whether perusing the railings of Thomas Paine or the romantic frothing of Dumas, this author keeps a large quantity of skepticism handy and applies it liberally at need.
:D
Very nicely done indeed! The use of the word 'twaddle' just adds to the highly condescending tone. It has a very high content of 'unacknowledged-university-professor-lashing-out-against-the-uneducated- masses'.

It's amazing you have the time to come up with all these essays. They seem to require an awful lot of research and work. Nonetheless, I'm very glad you're willing to do just that, because they continue to be excellent.
 
Valdemar - unfortunately, the turntable is not all I need. My audio equipment is all in pieces at the moment. I probably can borrow a ttable from the bar DJ if i need to - pro quality Panasonics. He's a friend still and the bar is all CD now.

stnylan - If you think I'm going on too long, you can just stop reading. :p

I have no set plans for this. As I look over my notes and the history logs, ideas come to me and I write about them. I wanted this to be a series I could write about, set down and come back to. That's why the posts are in no set chronological order.

Topic headings in the file include
  • The Republic Militiant (the wars)
    The Impact of Martin Luther(The Protestant faith comes to Bremen)
    An Empire of Trade(The rise and fall and rise of trade)
    The Colonial Corporation (The Great Migrations)

This doesn't mean all that much - the Mozart essay (one of my personal favorites, I think) was written purely on a lark.

Owen - How good to hear from you! My gameplay has improved a bit I think - or maybe the opening situation just seemed less drastic than France in 1796. There is something about knowing that they all ARE out to get you...

Glad you're tuned in. Thanks for the ttable tip.

Am I saying anything valuable here? I really am trying to talk about some issues with waging war in EU2 rather than issues with the game mechanics per se. Is the philosophy too thick?

Gaijin de Moscu - I'm so glad to see you're back and writing again. Good to know you're reading, too. I'm very glad you like the series - I'm enjoying the writing quite a lot.

You think I'm a nice guy because you don't see all the scheming and screaming that goes on. :D It is true that I prefer a peaceful, profitable empire of trade to endless wars. I'm much more a Clive than a Bonaparte, I suppose, but when I do resort to war I insist it result in a profit for my side.