elaborate, and full of most delicate work; it has been shamefully
damaged, but enough remains to make one class it with the best of
these often beautiful pieces of church furniture. About twenty feet in
height, it stands on lions’ backs, and finishes at the top with the
Crucifixion.
One of the relics still preserved in this church is a Dance of Death,
in a series of twenty-five paintings round the walls of a chapel which
forms part of the north transept; it is a very complete painting,
and its date, which is said to be A.D. 1463, makes it one of the
earliest paintings of this very curious subject. Mr. Douce, in his
treatise on the Dance of Death, mentions older examples at Minden,
in the churchyard of the Innocents at Paris, in the cloister of the
S. Chapelle at Dijon, and that at Basle, which is the most famous
of all. Most, if not all of these, are, however, now destroyed, and
the interest of this painting becomes therefore the greater. It is
certainly very valuable; if for no other reason, for the variety of
costume, of every rank and order of men, which it contains, beginning
with the pope, the emperor, empress, cardinal, king, bishop, duke,
abbat, and so on to the young woman and the little child.
Besides these paintings are two by Overbeck: one in the Lady-chapel,
finished in 1824, of our Lord’s entry into Jerusalem, is certainly
very beautiful, in its calm simplicity and purity of colour, reminding
one much of Raffaelle’s early style, or of some work of that great
Christian artist, Perugino; and therefore most grateful to me, and
far more pleasing than the other, which is a Pietà, painted in 1847,
and in a thoroughly different and much more naturalistic style. In
the first painting the Lübeck people recognise and point out, with no
little pride, Overbeck’s father, mother, and sisters, all of them--as
also the great artist himself--natives of Lübeck, and perhaps fairly
enough introduced in this his offering to his native town. A lion of
the Marien-Kirche is the clock--one of those clumsy pieces of ingenuity
which so often annoy one on the Continent. There is also a metal font,
said to have been made in 1337 by one Hans Apengeter; but like that at
the cathedral, not very satisfactory.
After these two great churches, certainly by far the most interesting
church is that of the Minorite convent, S. Katharine, which is in many
ways so remarkable, as to leave perhaps a stronger impression on one’s
mind than anything else in the city. It is a desecrated church, but
desecrated happily in a quiet way; unused, and not much cared for, but
as yet not destroyed, and serving now only as a kind of museum of old
church furniture, great store of which, from the Burg-Kloster church
and elsewhere, is accumulated in its choir.
The date of the foundation of this church is given on an inscription
near the door as A.D. 1335, and its founder Bishop Henry Bockholt; but
an old chronicler, Reimar Cock, says that the guardian of the church,
Brother Emeke, pulled down the church in 1351, and rebuilt it in three
years more beautifully than before, with the alms which, during the
time of the plague, were given to the monks.
I have drawn out the plan of this church, and, with the help of my
sketches, this may, I trust, explain its extraordinary arrangement.
This consists in the elevation of the choir, with a kind of crypt
below it, above the floor of the rest of the church; the floor of the
crypt being level with that of the nave, and divided into three widths
with slender shafts, the whole groined, and when seen from the nave,
presenting certainly one of the most striking and curious interiors
I have ever met with. The west end of the under church opens to the
nave with three arches, looking just like the ordinary arrangement of
rood-screens in Lübeck; and this is just what it is: the whole choir
is simply a prolongation eastwards of the rood-loft, and at the west
end there is a raised screen surmounting the three arches, out of which
rises a most magnificent and perfect rood, with SS. Mary and John on
either side. The entire absence of seats in the nave, the great height
of the church, the darkness of the long vista of arch and column under
the choir, and the magnificence of the rood, make this interior one
of the most satisfactory and least altered things I know; and if its
arrangement is not absolutely unique, it is certainly not far from
being so. In England I know nothing at all like it, unless such an
example as the little church at Compton, near Guildford, be taken, in
which there are indeed some points of similarity--the low sanctuary,
with its groined roof, and the chapel above opening to the church, and
fenced in with its low Romanesque screen-work; all this, though on
a far smaller scale, certainly tallies curiously with this Minorite
church at Lübeck.[77]
An iron grill shuts off the chapels at the east end of the under
church, and in the centre of these is a fine brass, of which I obtained
a rubbing. It is to a member of the Lüneburg family, and contains
the figure of the burgomaster John Lüneburg, who died in the last
quarter of the fifteenth century. The inscriptions are curious, the
name, etc., all in Latin, ending with “Bidde God vor em”; and another
ending “Orate: ah werlt du hest mi bedragen!” It will be seen from
the drawing of the interior that the whole detail is of a very severe
kind,--all brick, and alas! all whitewashed. The access to the choir
is by a staircase in the south aisle, which did not appear to me to
be old. There is a space of some ten or twelve feet between the west
side of the rood-loft and the choir-stalls, which are returned; and
into this space the staircase leads. The stalls are old, and very good;
and the whole pavement of the upper choir is of tiles, of a peculiar
and interesting kind, if only for its novelty. The only pattern tiles
are in the borders, the remainder are green, black, red, and light
red, made in various shapes, and very good in their effect. One of the
chapels in the Marien-Kirche is similarly paved, but not on so grand a
scale, or with so many patterns. The only pavements at all approaching
to the same kind which at the present moment I can call to mind, are
that which has been so strangely--as it were providentially--preserved
in the footpace on which once stood the high altar at Fountains Abbey,
perfect and untouched, where all else is ruin and desolation;--and in
those most lovely marble pavements in S. Anastasia, at Verona. Some of
the arrangements of the patterns approach very near to these, but how
much more beautiful the marble of Verona is than the tiles of Lübeck
one can hardly say.
And with this ends all that one knows as positively belonging to S.
Katharine; for in this unused choir is now a store of triptychs of
that kind which, after some acquaintance with German churches, one
learns to tire of, covered with carving, quaint, and richly coloured,
or painted in Scripture story or strange legend, well enough in their
proper place, and giving once doubtless great dignity to the altars
they adorned, but here--collected and set out for view as a gallery of
paintings--if not worthless, at best very unsatisfactory. But besides
all these triptychs, there is a large aumbrye, with its old iron gates
and locks still perfect, in which is a large collection of portions
of monstrances, chalices, crosses, and the like: many of them very
beautiful, but all damaged and in fragments. Among other things I saw
a curious leather bag for carrying books, with an ingenious pocket for
money contrived in its folds and very securely fastened.
But what is most rare and curious is a collection of ancient linen
altar-cloths, which I had great trouble in getting a sight of, and
which I could not draw, as the curator of the museum insisted on
showing them himself, and when I wished to draw them, told me that he
had already himself drawn them: this, as may be imagined, was a very
poor source of comfort to me.
There was a corporal about 2 feet square, and fringed; along the edge
of which was worked an arcade with figures of saints, the dresses
stitched in a regular pattern all over, and the folds left plain:
the date of this was about A.D. 1280. There was another embroidered
corporal which I managed to get a drawing of: this was 2 feet square,
with a large cross in the centre and four smaller crosses in the
corners; the whole worked in a cross-stitch with blue and red on the
white linen. Date, I think, about 1450.
Then there were two linen cloths for the altar: one, 14 ft. long by 3
ft. 10 in. wide, with a great number of figures of prophets surrounded
with branching foliage; from the character of the figures, I date this
at about A.D. 1400. All the outlines of the figures, leaves, etc. were
marked with coloured ink borders on the linen before the work was done:
the hair and points of the dresses here and there were marked with
bright colour, but generally the work was all in white thread,--the
stitches rather long, and arranged in regular patterns and diapers.
Another linen cloth of the same size has the whole history of Reynard
the Fox: a curious subject, it may be thought, for an altar-cloth; but
I may remark that I found the same subject in the bosses of the under
church.
Besides this there was a magnificent linen dalmatic with apparels
beautifully worked and fringed with white, red, white, blue,
alternately. The orphreys had been taken off. The apparels of the
sleeves were a succession of medallions, six to each sleeve, containing
the Twelve Apostles, and the apparel at the bottom of the dalmatic had
in front our Lord and two saints, and at the back S. Mary the Virgin,
SS. Peter and Paul. The work was most beautiful, and, I have no doubt
of the end of the thirteenth century.
I believe there were other things of the same kind, but I fear my
curiosity rather disgusted the curator, who was not very anxious to let
me see very much of these precious and invaluable relics.
The exterior of S. Katharine will be best understood by my sketches.
The most noticeable fact is that some of the tracery in the eastern
part is of stone enclosed within a brick arch, and exceedingly good
in its effect; proving satisfactorily that this is the real way to use
brick and stone together. There is no comparison between these windows
and all the other windows in Lübeck. The rest are all ugly: these quite
beautiful.
The transept has a double gable, as in the Marien-Kirche, and
internally is arranged like an aisle rather than a transept. The west
front is curious and indescribable: an irregular assemblage of arcades
and windows without order or definiteness, but withal very effective.
And as will be seen from the ground-plan, the north aisle being much
narrower than the south produces of necessity a great irregularity in
the whole elevation, and this irregularity is so carefully managed as
really completely to conceal the awkwardness which would otherwise be
very apparent. There is no tower, only a turret on the roof, at the
intersection of nave, choir, and transept roofs.
In buildings connected with the church is a large library, some
cartoons of Overbeck’s, and some work of Godfrey Kneller’s, he, as well
as Overbeck, having been born here.
The other churches are not very remarkable. S. Peter’s has a good
steeple with metal turrets at the base of the spire, and I believe
there is a fine brass there, but I failed to see it.
S. James has a very plain brick tower, and a good triapsidal east end,
very much like that of S. Katharine. The steeple is crowned with a
modern spire: inside there is a late metal font, of the kind popular in
Lübeck--a large vat-like vessel standing on the backs of four kneeling
angels, and covered with small and ineffective arcading with figures
and subjects. There is a large organ of rather early date, and two
curious standard lanterns for carrying lights in procession: they are
of very late date, but still so rare as to be worth notice.
S. Giles has no one feature of interest, save its very fine tower and
spire.
Of the hospitals the most curious is the Heiligen-Geist-Spital: the
ground-plan and general arrangement of which are most remarkable. The
chapel is the oblong building at the west end, only two bays in length,
but of great width: against its east wall is a rood-screen and loft,
under which is the altar, and, on either side of the altar, doors
which admit every one under the loft into the hospital. This, like
many of our old hospitals (S. Mary’s, Chichester, and Higham Ferrers,
are cases in point) is one immense hall, 250 ft. long by 40 ft. wide,
and has down its length two passages, and four rows of cubicles for
the inmates, and accommodates no less than 150 poor people: truly a
most royal provision for the poor. There is an entrance at the sides,
but the main entrance is through the chapel, through which there is a
constant passing, and it is therefore more like a great hall than a
chapel. How much better is the ordinary English arrangement (of which
I saw a grand example at Lüneburg), in which the chapel is at the east
end of the hall. There the chapel sanctifies the whole, instead of
being itself profaned, as is the case at Lübeck.
The hospital was founded by one Bertram Mornewech, in A.D. 1286, and is
similar in plan, I believe, to the great Gothic Hospital della Scala at
Siena.
In the chapel are some brass screens like those in the Marien-Kirche,
but inferior to them. The west front is remarkable and certainly very
picturesque, with its three gables and its multitude of turrets.
The most interesting building left to be described is the ruin of the
Burg-Kloster. This was a Dominican convent, and at the Reformation
was converted into a hospital for the poor. In 1818, a portion of
the vaulting of the church fell in, and then they pulled down the
rest of the church, sending their stained glass and the organ to
the Marien-Kirche, and their triptychs and altar furniture to the
Katerinen-Kirche. The north wall only of the church now remains, but
this shows traces of stone windows enclosed within brick arches, like
those in the apse of S. Katharine, and its destruction is therefore
specially to be deplored. The foundation dates from A.D. 1229. The rest
of the conventual buildings still in great part remain, but so mixed
up with other and modern erections, that it is rather difficult to
understand them.
There is, however, a fair cloister on the north side of the church,
groined throughout and tolerably perfect: out of this, on one side,
is a kind of open groined stall, which looks something like the
ambulatories which are so beautiful a feature of our own abbeys; and
out of this ambulatory, one enters a large hall once apparently divided
by a row of columns down the centre. North of these buildings is a
room which seems to have been part of the refectory, remarkable for an
exquisite pavement of small tiles--red, black, and white--arranged in
an ingenious and intricate pattern, of which I made a careful drawing.
My drawing shows the entire remaining portion of this pavement which,
it will be seen, continued on beyond the present partition-wall. A
central shaft is still left, with an old oak sideboard framed round its
base in a most effective manner. In another part of the Burg-Kloster
there is a small fragment of similar pavement, which looks as if it had
been the hearth under a fire.
Near S. Giles’s church there is another ruined conventual building, S.
Anne’s Kloster. This was originally a nunnery of “Clarissernonnen” (I
suppose these were nuns of S. Clare, an order who had a few houses in
England), but has been converted into a workhouse. Unfortunately a
great fire in 1843 consumed the church, and left nothing but the outer
walls standing, and when I was there it was used as a place for the
workhouse men to break stones or the roads. The church is said to have
been designed and built by one Synsingus Hesse of Brunswick, who came
to Lübeck in 1502 with five assistants, and completed the work in 1510.
With this date the work tallies very well, though I confess there is no
mark of the peculiarities of a Brunswick architect, which, as must be
known to any who have ever seen that very remarkable city, are decided
enough. Part of the west front of the church of S. Anne was built with
courses of stone and brick, a most unusual arrangement in Germany,
though common enough in Italian pointed, and always very striking in
its effect; the domestic buildings retain a good many groined rooms,
and a simple cloister in very perfect condition.
We come now to the Rathhaus, whose long line of picturesque front is so
great a feature in the principal street of the city. Its history is so
confusing and its style so peculiar, that it is very difficult indeed
to affix any certain date to its various portions. It was burnt down
in A.D. 1276, and there was another fire in A.D. 1358. In A.D. 1389
there were considerable works executed, including the famous cellars,
whose still more famous wine was all cleared out by the French, when
they sacked the good city in A.D. 1806. The portion of the Rathhaus to
the south of the market-place seems to have been built in 1442–44, and
the alterations of the Börse towards the street in 1570 and 1673; so
that we may well expect a confusing and picturesque mixture of works of
various dates. The earliest external portion appears to me to be the
screen on the north side in front of the two gabled roofs; and this
and the other great screens or parapets towards the market-place and
towards the street are the most picturesque portions of the building.
They are entirely executed in red and black brick, the cusping being
all done in moulded brick. As a rich piece of colour this work is
very valuable, but architecturally its sole merit is a kind of
picturesqueness, which it certainly has in great force.
The fact is that in northern Germany all the domestic architecture
was very full of faults; the fronts of the buildings were very seldom
at all ruled by the roof line, and their stepped gables, traceried,
mullioned, and pinnacled, had no reference to anything save a desire
to look well; and so here some of the most striking portions of the
old Rathhaus are done without any regard to constructional wants, and
simply as masks of the construction; the fronts are built up to conceal
the roofs, arcaded and pinnacled without meaning, and in a style very
elaborate as compared with the other brick work throughout the city.
A sketch of perhaps the most magnificent example remaining of north
German domestic architecture--the Rathhaus at Münster--will show
you how, even with the most beautiful detail and the best possible
sculpture, this faulty mode of designing was always persisted in; from
Münster in the fourteenth century one may trace it going into the brick
districts to the north and--as at Lüneburg--filling entire towns with
its extravagancies, and then settling down, as we find it at Lübeck,
into a regular system of stepped gables and panelled façades, beyond
which the dream of house-builders never went. I confess to having
been sorely disappointed in the street architecture of Lübeck. In
the first place everything except the churches, hospitals, Rathhaus,
and gateways, is painted white, or whitewashed in the most ruthless
manner, and the architectural merit of the houses before they were
whitewashed must have been very small. The houses at the side of the
Heiligen-Geist-Spital are the best specimens of the kind of elevation
most in favour, and will, I think, quite justify my strictures, though
they are less objectionable than most, in that the gables follow the
roof line instead of being sham.
I have left until the last the town gateways, which are certainly two
of the most effective I have ever seen. The Holsteiner-Thor has two
spire-like roofs at its extremities, which are very effective, and its
front towards the town is really a magnificent specimen of the good
effect of a great quantity of arcading. The outer front of the gate is
much less ornamental. In the string-courses there is a great deal of
inlaid terra-cotta ornament. The date of this gateway is about A.D.
1477. The Burg-Thor and the buildings on the town side form about as
picturesque a group as can well be imagined. It has all been lately
restored, and, I fear, _painted:_ the colour of the red and black
bricks savouring to my eye uncommonly of artificial colour; but one
can scarce imagine anything more strikingly picturesque than the whole
group. The other side of the gate is almost exactly the same; but
standing by itself, without the picturesque buildings on either side,
is not nearly so effective.
All that I had heard of Lübeck made me promise myself a great treat in
the study of the old brick buildings and the old treatment of brick.
I must confess, however, that this was not so good or so satisfactory
as I had expected, and that it is certainly very inferior to the
Italian brick work. It is generally coarsely done, and there is but
little attempted in the way of tracery, and that little is never very
effective. I saw nothing, for instance, at all comparable to such
brick work as one sees at Verona, Mantua, and Cremona; and I doubt
much whether Germany produces any which can be compared to it. Except
in one instance, and then only to a very slight extent, there is no
attempt at all at mixing stone with brick, save at the quoins of the
towers, where there are always immense blocks of stone, intended for
strength, but contributing, I suspect, to the weakness which is quite
a characteristic of all the churches in Lübeck, Hamburg, Lüneburg,
and generally throughout this brick district. The brick churches of
Italy are remarkable in that they owe much of their beautiful effect
either to the mixture of stone with brick, or to the exquisite moulding
of the brick, and the care and delicacy with which it was built; and
one observes that whilst in Italy all the buildings have an air of
refinement, in northern Germany they have an air of great coarseness,
to which, perhaps, the entire absence of what can fairly be called
window tracery in a great degree conduces.
Something may, however, be learnt even from the failure of other men,
and so some points may well be attended to in this German brick work.
And first it teaches us, distinctly and unmistakably, that brick is
no material for window traceries; the necessity of using it ends
either in the repetition of very simple and ugly windows, such as are
almost universal in Lübeck; or, as in the Stadt-Haus, and again in
the very remarkable church of S. Katharine, at Brandenburg, in the
eternal repetition of the same small piece of moulded tracery, which,
of necessity not very good in itself, becomes, by much repetition,
quite hateful. And the effect is painful in the extreme upon the whole
practice of art: in all cases, without any exception, I believe, where
men have condescended to attempt to execute traceries or carvings in
brick moulded in this way, the tendency has been, naturally enough, to
repeat for ever things which by repetition become cheap. _One_ moulded
piece of brick tracery would be dearer than one like it in stone; but
multiply it a hundred or a thousand times, and it becomes infinitely
cheaper, but who can say by how much more infinitely tedious and
unartistic! So at Brandenburg, crockets, crocketed gablets, component
parts of tracery, and the like, are repeated over and over again, in a
manner which is really marvellous; and because it was necessary to do
this, immense sham fronts, sham parapets, and the like, must be raised,
in order to display all the resources which were at their command.
Now this is very poor architecture, very vile art; and it requires no
argument to prove that it is only the natural and certain result of
the attempt to use materials out of their proper place, and in a way
in which it was never intended they should be used. Far worse would
be an attempt to mould clay, so that it should counterfeit the work
of nature; and so, in addition to the destruction of all art by its
endless repetitions, insult God’s handiwork by counterfeiting stone
quarried from the bowels of the earth.