Unter den Linden

Walk to the middle of the broad avenue and stand under the trees. Two rows of linden trees run down the center, with a wide path between them. Cars pass on either side, but here, in the green strip, the noise softens. The branches meet overhead. This is Unter den Linden. The name means: under the linden trees.

This avenue is one of the main streets of central Berlin. It runs in a straight line for about a mile. At one end stands the Brandenburg Gate. At the other lie the river Spree, a cluster of museums, and the rebuilt royal palace. Along the way you pass some of the most important buildings in the country.

The street began as something simple. In the seventeenth century, this was a riding path. It led from the city palace out to the hunting grounds in the Tiergarten, the great park to the west. A ruler of Brandenburg ordered linden and nut trees planted along the route. The trees gave the street its name, and they have been replanted many times since.

Over the years the path became a grand avenue. Kings and architects filled it with palaces, churches, and halls. They wanted a street that would show the power and learning of Prussia, and later of Germany. Much of what you see is built from pale stone in calm, balanced shapes, looking back to the buildings of ancient Greece and Rome.

On one side stands Humboldt University. It opened in 1810 and became one of the most respected places of learning in Europe. Many famous thinkers and scientists taught or studied here. In front, on fair days, sellers line long tables with second-hand books. Students still hurry through the gates today.

Across the street opens a wide square called Bebelplatz. It looks calm and empty. But look down. Set into the ground is a pane of glass. Beneath it is a small white room of empty bookshelves. This is a memorial. On this square, in 1933, crowds gathered by night and burned thousands of books the Nazis had banned. The empty shelves mark what was lost.

Near the square stand two more landmarks. One is the State Opera, a home for music since the seventeen hundreds. The other is St. Hedwig's Cathedral, a round church with a low dome, built in the shape of an ancient temple. Both have been damaged and rebuilt across the centuries.

Walk on and you reach the Neue Wache. From the outside it looks like a small Greek temple. Inside is a single bare room, open to the sky through a round hole in the ceiling. At its center sits a simple sculpture of a mother holding her dead son. The room is a memorial to the victims of war and tyranny. Rain and snow fall on the figure through the open roof.

For much of the twentieth century, this avenue stood in the eastern half of a divided city. After the Second World War, Berlin was split. Unter den Linden lay in East Berlin, behind the Wall. The Brandenburg Gate at its western end was sealed off, a dead end facing the border. People could not pass freely from one side to the other.

When the Wall fell in 1989, the gate opened again, and the avenue was whole once more. Since then, building after building has been cleaned, repaired, or rebuilt. The royal palace at the eastern end, torn down under East German rule, has been reconstructed and now holds a museum of world cultures.

Today the street works on two speeds. Traffic and trams move along the edges. In the middle, under the trees, people stroll slowly. Tour groups gather. Couples sit on benches. The lindens give shade in summer, and in early summer their small pale flowers fill the air with a soft, sweet smell.

Stand here a moment longer before you walk on. A simple riding path became a royal showpiece, then a stage for book burning and war, then a sealed street in a split city, and now an open avenue again. The trees overhead have been cut down and planted again and again. Like the city itself, they keep coming back.