German-American about to return to my home in Pennsylvania, where he had
lived for some time. I inquired according to the direction he had sent
me to Frankfort, but he was not there; however, an old man, finding who
I was, said Herr Otto had directed him to go with me to Hesselhurst, a
village four or five miles off, where he would meet me. So we set off
immediately over the plain, and reached the village at dusk....
My friend arrived at three o'clock the next morning, and, after two or
three hours' talk about home and the friends whom he expected to see so
much sooner than I, a young farmer drove me in his wagon to Offenburg, a
small city at the foot of the Black Forest, where I took the cars for
Freiburg. The scenery between the two places is grand. The broad
mountains of the Black Forest rear their fronts on the east, and the
blue lines of the French Vosges meet the clouds on the west. The night
before, in walking over the plain, I saw distinctly the whole of the
Strassburg minster, whose spire is the highest in Europe, being four
hundred and ninety feet, or but twenty-five feet lower than the Pyramid
of Cheops.
I visited the minster of Freiburg yesterday morning. It is a grand,
gloomy old pile, dating back from the eleventh century--one of the few
Gothic churches in Germany that have ever been completed. The tower of
beautiful fretwork rises to the height of three hundred and ninety-five
feet, and the body of the church, including the choir, is of the same
length. The interior is solemn and majestic. Windows stained in colors
that burn let in a "dim religious light" which accords very well with
the dark old pillars and antique shrines. In two of the chapels there
are some fine altar-pieces by Holbein and one of his scholars, and a
very large crucifix of silver and ebony, kept with great care, which is
said to have been carried with the Crusaders to the Holy Land....
We went this afternoon to the Jägerhaus, on a mountain near, where we
had a very fine view of the city and its great black minster, with the
plain of the Briesgau, broken only by the Kaiserstuhl, a long mountain
near the Rhine, whose golden stream glittered in the distance. On
climbing the Schlossberg, an eminence near the city, we met the grand
duchess Stephanie, a natural daughter of Napoleon, as I have heard. A
chapel on the Schönberg, the mountain opposite, was pointed out as the
spot where Louis XV.--if I mistake not--usually stood while his army
besieged Freiburg. A German officer having sent a ball to this chapel
which struck the wall just above the king's head, the latter sent word
that if they did not cease firing he would point his cannons at the
minster. The citizens thought it best to spare the monarch and save the
cathedral.
After two days delightfully spent, we shouldered our knapsacks and left
Freiburg. The beautiful valley at the mouth of which the city lies runs
like an avenue for seven miles directly into the mountains, and presents
in its loveliness such a contrast to the horrid defile which follows
that it almost deserves the name which has been given to a little inn
at its head--the "Kingdom of Heaven." The mountains of the Black Forest
enclose it on each side like walls, covered to the summit with luxuriant
woods, and in some places with those forests of gloomy pine which give
this region its name. After traversing its whole length, just before
plunging into the mountain-depths the traveler rarely meets with a finer
picture than that which, on looking back, he seems framed between the
hills at the other end. Freiburg looks around the foot of one of the
heights, with the spire of her cathedral peeping above the top, while
the French Vosges grow dim in the far perspective.
The road now enters a wild, narrow valley which grows smaller as we
proceed. From Himmelreich, a large rude inn by the side of the green
meadows, we enter the Höllenthal--that is, from the "Kingdom of Heaven"
to the "Valley of Hell." The latter place better deserves its
appellation than the former. The road winds between precipices of black
rock, above which the thick foliage shuts out the brightness of day and
gives a somber hue to the scene. A torrent foams down the chasm, and in
one place two mighty pillars interpose to prevent all passage. The
stream, however, has worn its way through, and the road is hewn in the
rock by its side. This cleft is the only entrance to a valley three or
four miles long which lies in the very heart of the mountains.
It is inhabited by a few woodmen and their families, and, but for the
road which passes through, would be as perfect a solitude as the Happy
Valley of Rasselas. At the farther end a winding road called "The
Ascent" leads up the steep mountain to an elevated region of country
thinly settled and covered with herds of cattle. The cherries--which in
the Rhine-plain below had long gone--were just ripe here. The people
spoke a most barbarous dialect; they were social and friendly, for
everybody greeted us, and sometimes, as we sat on a bank by the
roadside, those who passed by would say "Rest thee!" or "Thrice rest!"
Passing by the Titi Lake, a small body of water which was spread out
among the hills like a sheet of ink, so deep was its Stygian hue, we
commenced ascending a mountain. The highest peak of the Schwarzwald, the
Feldberg, rose not far off, and on arriving at the top of this mountain
we saw that a half hour's walk would bring us to its summit. This was
too great a temptation for my love of climbing heights; so, with a look
at the descending sun to calculate how much time we could spare, we set
out. There was no path, but we prest directly up the steep side through
bushes and long grass, and in a short time reached the top, breathless
from such exertion in the thin atmosphere.
The pine-woods shut out the view to the north and east, which is said to
be magnificent, as the mountain is about five thousand feet high. The
wild black peaks of the Black Forest were spread below us, and the sun
sank through golden mist toward the Alsatian hills. Afar to the south,
through cloud and storm, we could just trace the white outline of the
Swiss Alps. The wind swept through the pines around, and bent the long
yellow grass among which we sat, with a strange, mournful sound, well
suiting the gloomy and mysterious region. It soon grew cold; the golden
clouds settled down toward us, and we made haste to descend to the
village of Lenzkirch before dark.
Next morning we set out early, without waiting to see the trial of
archery which was to take place among the mountain-youths. Their booths
and targets, gay with banners, stood on a green meadow beside the town.
We walked through the Black Forest the whole forenoon. It might be owing
to the many wild stories whose scenes are laid among these hills, but
with me there was a peculiar feeling of solemnity pervading the whole
region. The great pine-woods are of the very darkest hue of green, and
down their hoary, moss-floored aisles daylight seems never to have
shone. The air was pure and clear and the sunshine bright, but it
imparted no gayety to the scenery; except the little meadows of living
emerald which lay occasionally in the lap of a dell, the landscape wore
a solemn and serious air. In a storm it must be sublime.
About noon, from the top of the last range of hills, we had a glorious
view. The line of the distant Alps could be faintly traced high in the
clouds, and all the heights between were plainly visible, from the Lake
of Constance to the misty Jura, which flanked the Vosges on the west.
From our lofty station we overlooked half Switzerland, and, had the air
been a little clearer, we could have seen Mont Blanc and the mountains
of Savoy. I could not help envying the feelings of the Swiss who, after
long absence from their native land, first see the Alps from this road.
If to the emotions with which I then looked on them were added the
passionate love of home and country which a long absence creates, such
excess of rapture would be almost too great to be borne.
[Footnote A: From "Views Afoot." Published by G.P. Putnam's Sons.]
II
NUREMBERG
AS A MEDIEVAL CITY[A]
BY CECIL HEADLAM
In spite of all changes, and in spite of the disfigurements of modern
industry, Nuremberg is and will remain a medieval city, a city of
history and legend, a city of the soul. She is like Venice in this, as
in not a little of her history, that she exercises an indefinable
fascination over our hearts no less than over our intellects. The subtle
flavor of medieval towns may be likened to that of those rare old ports
which are said to taste of the grave; a flavor indefinable, exquisite.
Rothenburg has it; and it is with Rothenburg, that little gem of
medievalism, that Nuremberg is likely to be compared in the mind of the
modern wanderer in Franconia. But tho Rothenburg may surpass her greater
neighbor in the perfect harmony and in the picturesqueness of her
red-tiled houses and well-preserved fortifications, in interest at any
rate she must yield to the heroine of this story.
For, apart from the beauty which Nuremberg owes to the wonderful
grouping of her red roofs and ancient castle, her coronet of antique
towers, her Gothic churches and Renaissance buildings or brown riverside
houses dipping into the mud-colored Pegnitz, she rejoices in treasures
of art and architecture and in the possession of a splendid history such
as Rothenburg can not boast. To those who know something of her story
Nuremberg brings the subtle charm of association. While appealing to our
memories by the grandeur of her historic past, and to our imaginations
by the work and tradition of her mighty dead, she appeals also to our
senses with the rare magic of her personal beauty, if one may so call
it. In that triple appeal lies the fascination of Nuremberg....
The facts as to the origin of Nuremberg are lost in the dim shadows of
tradition. When the little town sprang up amid the forests and swamps
which still marked the course of the Pegnitz, we know as little as we
know the origin of the name Nürnberg. It is true that the chronicles of
later days are only too ready to furnish us with information; but the
information is not always reliable. The chronicles, like our own
peerage, are apt to contain too vivid efforts of imaginative fiction.
The chroniclers, unharassed by facts or documents, with minds "not by
geography prejudiced, or warped by history," can not unfortunately
always be believed. It is, for instance, quite possible that Attila,
King of the Huns, passed and plundered Nuremberg, as they tell us. But
there is no proof, no record of that visitation. Again, the inevitable
legend of a visit from Charlemagne occurs. He, you may be sure, was
lost in the woods while hunting near Nuremberg, and passed all night
alone, unhurt by the wild beasts. As a token of gratitude for God's
manifest favor he caused a chapel to be built on the spot. The chapel
stands to this day--a twelfth-century building--but no matter! for did
not Otho I., as our chroniclers tell us, attend mass in St. Sebald's
Church in 970, tho St. Sebald's Church can not have been built till a
century later?
The origin of the very name of Nuremberg is hidden in the clouds of
obscurity. In the earliest documents we find it spelt with the usual
variations of early manuscripts--Nourenberg, Nuorimperc, Niurenberg,
Nuremberc, etc. The origin of the place, we repeat, is equally obscure.
Many attempts have been made to find history in the light of the
derivations of the name. But when philology turns historian it is apt to
play strange tricks. Nur ein Berg (only a castle), or Nero's Castle, or
Norix Tower--what matter which is the right derivation, so long as we
can base a possible theory on it? The Norixberg theory will serve to
illustrate the incredible quantity of misplaced ingenuity which both of
old times and in the present has been wasted in trying to explain the
inexplicable.
Be that as it may, the history of our town begins in the year 1050. It
is most probable that the silence regarding the place--it is not
mentioned among the places visited by Conrad II. in this
neighborhood--points to the fact that the castle did not exist in 1025,
but was built between that year and 1050. That it existed then we know,
for Henry III. dated a document from here in 1050, summoning a council
of Bavarian nobles "to his estate Nourinberc." The oldest portion,
called in the fifteenth century Altnürnberg, consisted of the
Fünfeckiger Thurm--the Five-cornered tower--the rooms attached and the
Otmarkapelle. The latter was burned down in 1420, rebuilt in 1428, and
called the Walpurgiskapelle. These constituted the Burggräfliche
Burg--the Burggraf's Castle. The rest of the castle was built on by
Friedrich der Rotbart (Barbarossa), and called the Kaiserliche Burg. The
old Five-cornered tower and the surrounding ground was the private
property of the Burggraf, and he was appointed by the Emperor as
imperial officer of the Kaiserliche Burg. Whether the Emperors claimed
any rights of personal property over Nuremberg or merely treated it, at
first, as imperial property, it is difficult to determine. The castle at
any rate was probably built to secure whatever rights were claimed, and
to serve generally as an imperial stronghold. Gradually around the
castle grew up the straggling streets of Nuremberg. Settlers built
beneath the shadow of the Burg. The very names of the streets suggest
the vicinity of a camp or fortress. Söldnerstrasse, Schmiedstrasse, and
so forth, betray the military origin of the present busy commercial
town. From one cause or another a mixture of races, of Germanic and
non-Germanic, of Slavonic and Frankish elements, seems to have occurred
among the inhabitants of the growing village, producing a special blend
which in dialect, in customs, and in dress was soon noticed by the
neighbors as unique, and stamping the art and development of Nuremberg
with that peculiar character which has never left it.
Various causes combined to promote the growth of the place. The
temporary removal of the Mart from Fürth to Nuremberg under Henry III.
doubtless gave a great impetus to the development of the latter town.
Henry IV., indeed, gave back the rights of Mart, customs and coinage to
Fürth. But it seems probable that these rights were not taken away again
from Nuremberg. The possession of a Mart was, of course, of great
importance to a town in those days, promoting industries and arts and
settled occupations. The Nurembergers were ready to suck out the fullest
advantage from their privilege. That mixture of races, to which we have
referred, resulted in remarkable business energy--energy which soon
found scope in the conduct of the business which the natural position of
Nuremberg on the south and north, the east and western trade routes,
brought to her. It was not very long before she became the center of the
vast trade between the Levant and Western Europe, and the chief emporium
for the produce of Italy--the "Handelsmetropole" in fact of South
Germany.
Nothing in the Middle Ages was more conducive to the prosperity of a
town than the reputation of having a holy man within its borders, or the
possession of the miracle-working relics of a saint. Just as St.
Elizabeth made Marburg so St. Sebaldus proved a very potent attraction
to Nuremberg. As early as 1070 and 1080 we hear of pilgrimages to
Nuremberg in honor of her patron saint.
Another factor in the growth of the place was the frequent visits which
the Emperors began to pay to it. Lying as it did on their way from
Bamberg and Forcheim to Regensburg, the Kaisers readily availed
themselves of the security offered by this impregnable fortress, and of
the sport provided in the adjacent forest. For there was good hunting to
be had in the forest which, seventy-two miles in extent, surrounded
Nuremberg. And hunting, next to war, was then in most parts of Europe
the most serious occupation of life. All the forest rights, we may
mention, of wood-cutting, hunting, charcoal burning and bee-farming
belonged originally to the Empire. But these were gradually acquired by
the Nuremberg Council, chiefly by purchase in the fifteenth century.
In the castle the visitor may notice a list of all the Emperors--some
thirty odd, all told--who have stayed there--a list that should now
include the reigning Emperor. We find that Henry IV. frequently honored
Nuremberg with his presence. This is that Henry IV., whose scene at
Canossa with the Pope--Kaiser of the Holy Roman Empire waiting three
days in the snow to kiss the foot of excommunicative Gregory--has
imprest itself on all memories. His last visit to Nuremberg was a sad
one. His son rebelled against him, and the old king stopt at Nuremberg
to collect his forces. In the war between father and son Nuremberg was
loyal, and took the part of Henry IV. It was no nominal part, for in
1105 she had to stand a siege from the young Henry. For two months the
town was held by the burghers and the castle by the Prefect Conrad. At
the end of that time orders came from the old Kaiser that the town was
to surrender. He had given up the struggle, and his undutiful son
succeeded as Henry V. to the Holy Roman Empire, and Nuremberg with it.
The mention of this siege gives us an indication of the growth of the
town. The fact of the siege and the words of the chronicler, "The
townsmen (oppidani) gave up the town under treaty," seem to point to the
conclusion that Nuremberg was now no longer a mere fort (castrum), but
that walls had sprung up round the busy mart and the shrine of St.
Sebald, and that by this time Nuremberg had risen to the dignity of a
"Stadt" or city state. Presently, indeed, we find her rejoicing in the
title of "Civitas" (state). The place, it is clear, was already of
considerable military importance or it would not have been worth while
to invest it. The growing volume of trade is further illustrated by a
charter of Henry V. (1112) giving to the citizens of Worms customs'
immunity in various places subject to him, among which Frankfort, Goslar
and Nuremberg are named as royal towns ("oppida regis").
[Footnote A: From "The Story of Nuremberg." Published by E.P. Dutton &
Co.]
ITS CHURCHES AND THE CITADEL[A]
BY THOMAS FROGNALL DIBDIN
It may be as well briefly to notice the two churches--St. Sebald and St.
Lawrence. The former was within a stone's throw of our inn. Above the
door of the western front is a remarkably fine crucifix of wood--placed,
however, in too deep a recess--said to be by Veit Stoss. The head is of
a very fine form, and the countenance has an expression of the most
acute and intense feeling. A crown of thorns is twisted around the brow.
But this figure, as well as the whole of the outside and inside of the
church, stands in great need of being repaired. The towers are low, with
insignificant turrets; the latter evidently a later erection--probably
at the commencement of the sixteenth century. The eastern extremity, as
well indeed as the aisles, is surrounded by buttresses; and the
sharp-pointed, or lancet, windows, seem to bespeak the fourteenth, if
not the thirteenth, century. The great "wonder" of the interior is the
Shrine of the Saint (to whom the church is dedicated), of which the
greater part is silver. At the time of my viewing it, it was in a
disjointed state--parts of it having been taken to pieces, for repair;
but from Geisler's exquisite little engraving, I should pronounce it to
be second to few specimens of similar art in Europe. The figures do not
exceed two feet in height, and the extreme elevation of the shrine may
be about eight feet. Nor has Geisler's almost equally exquisite little
engraved carving of the richly carved Gothic font in this church, less
claim upon the admiration of the connoisseur.
The mother church, or Cathedral of St. Lawrence, is much larger, and
portions of it may be of the latter end of the thirteenth century. The
principal entrance presents us with an elaborate doorway--perhaps of the
fourteenth century--with the sculpture divided into several
compartments, as at Rouen, Strassburg, and other earlier edifices. There
is a poverty in the two towers, both from their size and the meagerness
of the windows; but the slim spires at the summit are, doubtless, nearly
of a coeval date with that which supports them. The bottom of the large
circular or marigold window is injured in its effect by a Gothic
balustrade of a later period. The interior of this church has certainly
nothing very commanding or striking, on the score of architectural
grandeur or beauty; but there are some painted glass windows--especially
by Volkmar--which are deserving of particular attention. Nuremberg has
one advantage over many populous towns; its public buildings are not
choked up by narrow streets; and I hardly know an edifice of
distinction, round which the spectator may not walk with perfect ease,
and obtain a view of every portion which he is desirous of examining....
Of all edifices, more especially deserving of being visited at
Nuremberg, the Citadel is doubtless the most curious and ancient, as
well as the most remarkable. It rises to a considerable height, close
upon the outer walls of the town, within about a stone's throw of the
end of Albrecht Dürer Strasse--or the street where Albert Dürer
lived--and whose house is not only yet in existence, but still the
object of attraction and veneration with every visitor of taste, from
whatever part of the world he may chance to come. The street running
down is the street called (as before observed) after Albert Dürer's own
name; and the well, seen about the middle of it, is a specimen of those
wells--built of stone--which are very common in the streets of
Nuremberg. The upper part of the house of Albert Dürer is supposed to
have been his study. The interior is so altered from its original
disposition as to present little or nothing satisfactory to the
antiquary. It would be difficult to say how many coats of whitewash have
been bestowed upon the rooms, since the time when they were tenanted by
the great character in question.
Passing through this street, therefore, you may turn to the right, and
continue onward up a pretty smart ascent; when the entrance to the
Citadel, by the side of a low wall--in front of an old tower--presents
itself to your attention. It was before breakfast that my companion and
self visited this interesting interior, over every part of which we were
conducted by a most loquacious cicerone, who spoke the French language
very fluently, and who was pleased to express his extreme gratification
upon finding that his visitors were Englishmen. The tower and the
adjoining chapel, may be each of the thirteenth century; but the
tombstone of the founder of the monastery, upon the site of which the
present Citadel was built, bears the date of 1296. This tombstone is
very perfect; lying in a loose, unconnected manner, as you enter the
chapel; the chapel itself having a crypt-like appearance. This latter is
very small.
From the suite of apartments in the older parts of the Citadel, there
is a most extensive and uninterrupted view of the surrounding country,
which is rather flat. At the distance of about nine miles, the town of
Fürth (Furta) looks as if it were within an hour's walk; and I should
think that the height of the chambers (from which we enjoyed this view)
to the level ground of the adjacent meadows could be scarcely less than
three hundred feet. In these chambers there is a little world of
curiosity for the antiquary; and yet it was but too palpable that very
many of its more precious treasures had been transported to Munich. In
the time of Maximilian II., when Nuremberg may be supposed to have been
in the very height of its glory, this Citadel must have been worth a
pilgrimage of many score miles to have visited. The ornaments which
remain are chiefly pictures; of which several are exceedingly
precious....