The same process of spire-growth can be traced to some extent both in

England and in France, but on the whole it is by no means clear that the

spire, properly so called, is not an importation from the banks of the

Rhine. Height in the roof appears always to have been considered a

beauty by German architects, and it seems to have been applied to towers

earlier in Germany than in other countries.

Far more important than these, and surpassing them infinitely in beauty,

is the group of churches which adorns the city of Cologne, the virtual

capital, or at least the principal city, of Germany at the time of their

erection. The old cathedral has perished and made way for the celebrated

structure that now occupies its place. As just remarked, if it was like

the restoration proposed by Boisserée, it resembled Worms, and must have

belonged to the 12th century; but it does not seem that there are

sufficient data for determining this question.

[Illustration: 707. Sta. Maria in Capitolio, Cologne. (From Boisserée’s

‘Nieder Rhein.’) Scale 100 ft. to 1 in.]

Of the remaining churches three may be selected as types of the German

round-arched style as it existed on the eve of the introduction of the

French pointed style into Germany.

[Illustration: 708. Apse of the Apostles’ Church at Cologne. (From

Boisserée.)]

Of these, Sta. Maria in Capitolio (Woodcut No. 707) is apparently the

oldest. It was originally erected by Plectrudis, wife of Pepin

Heristall, in the year 700, but of that church nothing now remains. The

nave was rebuilt apparently in the 11th century, and the choir, with its

three noble apses, in the 12th, and perhaps even as late as the 13th

century. In plan these apses are more spacious than those of the

Apostles’ Church or of that of St. Martin (Woodcuts 708 and 709), this

church alone having a broad aisle running round each, a feature which

gives great breadth and variety to the perspective, but the apse of the

Church of the Apostles (erected A.D. 1035) is far more beautiful

externally. This latter building is perhaps, taken altogether, the most

pleasing example of its class, externally at least. The whole design of

the east end is quite complete, as we now see it, and is perfectly well

balanced in all its parts. St. Martin’s, on the other hand (Woodcut No.

709), has more of the aspiring tendencies of the pointed style, and,

though very elegant, its apsidal gallery is too small, and the whole

design somewhat wire-drawn, while there is a solidity and repose about

the design of the Apostles’ Church, and a perfect harmony among the

parts, which we miss in the more modern example. These three churches,

taken together, suffice probably to illustrate sufficiently the nature

and capabilities of the style which we are describing. The triapsal

arrangement possesses in a remarkable degree the architectural propriety

of terminating nobly the interior to which it is applied. As the

worshipper advances up the nave, the three apses open gradually upon

him, and form a noble and appropriate climax without the effect being

destroyed by something less magnificent beyond. But their most pleasing

effect is external, where the three simple circular lines combine

gracefully together, and form an elegant basement for any central dome

or tower. Compared with the confused buttresses and pinnacles of the

apses of the French pointed churches, it must certainly be admitted that

the German designs are far nobler, as possessing more architectural

propriety and more of the elements of true and simple beauty. The

churches which possess this feature are small, it is true, and therefore

it is hardly fair to compare them with such imposing edifices as the

great and overpoweringly magnificent cathedral of the same town; but

among buildings on their own scale they are as yet unrivalled. As these

churches now stand, their effect is to some extent marred by the

circumstance of their naves neither being sufficient in extent nor so

ornamental as to support effectually the varied outline and rich

decoration of the apse. Generally these are of a different age and of a

less ornate style, so that the complete effect of a well-balanced

composition is wanting; but this does not suffice to destroy the great

beauties these churches undoubtedly possess.

[Illustration: 709. Apse of St. Martin’s Church at Cologne. (From

Boisserée.) Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.]

In so far as beauty of design in this style is concerned, perhaps the

church at Bonn ought to be quoted next after those of Cologne. It is

only the east end, however, that belongs properly to their style of

architecture, the nave and central tower were not completed till the

13th century; but the eastern apse and its two flanking towers are in

themselves as noble as the triapsal arrangement of the Apostles’ Church,

but would require even a bolder nave and loftier west end to balance

them than the more modest arrangement of that building. As it is, the

effect of the church as a whole is destroyed by the comparative meanness

of these parts.

[Illustration: 710. East End of Church at Bonn. (From Rosengarten.)]

[Illustration: 711. Plan of Church at Laach. (From Geier and Görz.)]

As is the case with almost all Mediæval buildings, the greater number of

churches of this age have been erected at different periods of time, and

the designs altered as the work proceeded, to suit the taste of the day.

This circumstance makes them particularly interesting to the

architectural historian, though the artist and architect must always

regret the incompleteness and want of harmony which this produces. An

exception to this rule is found in the beautiful abbey church at Laach,

erected between the years 1093 and 1156, therefore rather early in the

style. Its dimensions are small, only 215 ft. internally by 62; but this

is compensated for by its completeness. It is one of the few churches

that still possess the western paradise or parvise, as shown in the

remarkable ancient plan found at St. Gall. The western apse is applied

to its proper use of a tomb-house, and on each side of it, as at

Mittelzell, are the principal entrances. Externally this church has two

central and four lateral towers, two of the latter being square, and two

circular. It is impossible to fancy anything more picturesquely pleasing

than this group of towers of various heights and shapes, or a church

producing a more striking effect with such diminutive dimensions as this

one possesses, the highest point being only 140 ft. from the

ground-line. No church, however, of the pointed Gothic style has its

sky-line so pleasingly broken, while the cornices and eaves still retain

all the unbroken simplicity of classic examples, showing how easily the

two forms might have been combined by following the path here indicated.

This church, the Liebfrauen Kirche at Halberstadt, and the Abbey of

Maulbronn[383] in Wurtemburg, the most perfect Cistercian abbey

existing, are perhaps the finest and most typical buildings in this

style, and sufficient to characterise the form of architecture in vogue

in Germany in the great Hohenstaufen period (1138-1284), and in the

century immediately preceding the accession to power of that house; but

they are not nearly all the really important buildings which during the

epoch of true German greatness were erected in almost every considerable

city of the empire. In Cologne itself there is the church of St. Gereon,

the nave of which, with its crypt, belongs to the 11th century, the apse

to the 12th, and the decagonal domed part to the 13th. This is a most

interesting specimen of transition architecture, and as such will be

mentioned hereafter. So is the church of St. Cunibert, dedicated in

1248, and hardly more advanced in style than the abbey of St. Denis near

Paris, built at least a century earlier. The churches of St. George and

of Sion in the same city afford interesting examples of the style; but

even more important, however, than these are the noble church at

Andernach, the remains of the abbey church of Heisterbach, and that of

St. Quirinus in Neuss. In the same neighbourhood the little church of

Sinzig is a pleasing specimen of the age when the Germans had laid aside

the bold simplicity of their earlier forms to adopt the more elegant and

sparkling contours of pointed architecture. A little farther up the

Rhine the church of St. Castor at Coblentz agreeably exemplifies the

later work (1157-1208), its apse being one of the widest and boldest of

its class, though deficient in height, and the style may be said to have

reached its zenith in the cathedrals of Limburg on the Lahn and Bamberg.

[Illustration: 712. View of Church at Laach. (From Geier and Görz.)]

[Illustration: 713. Church at Sinzig. (From Boisserée.)]

[Illustration: 714. Rood-Screen at Wechselburg. (From Puttrich.)]

The neighbourhood of Trèves has also some excellent specimens of

Romanesque work, among which may be mentioned the abbey of Echternach,

the church of St. Mathias, and the interesting and elegant church of

Merzig.

[Illustration: 715. Crypt at Göllingen. (From Puttrich.)]

In Saxony there are many beautiful though no very extensive examples of

the German style. Among these the two ruined abbeys of Paulinzelle and

Bürgelin, neither of them vaulted churches, are remarkable for the

simple elegance of their forms and details, showing how graceful the

style was becoming before the pointed arch was introduced. The church at

Wechselburg is also interesting, though somewhat gloomy, and retains a

rood-screen of the 12th century (Woodcut No. 714), which is a rare and

pleasing example of its class. The church at Hechlingen also deserves

mention, and the fragment of the abbey at Göllingen is a pleasing

instance of the pure Italian class of design sometimes found in Germany

at this age. Its crypt, too (Woodcut No. 715), affords an example of

vaulting of great elegance and lightness, obtained by introducing the

horse-shoe arch, or an arch more than half a circle in extent, which

takes off the appearance of great pressure upon the capital of the

pillar, and gives the vault that height and lightness which were

afterwards sought for and obtained by the introduction of the pointed

arch. It is still a question whether this was not the more pleasing

expedient of the two. There was one objection to the use of this

horse-shoe shape, that considerable difficulty arose in using arches of

different spans in the same roof, which with pointed arches became

perfectly easy.

[Illustration: 716. Façade of the Church at Rosheim. (From Chapuy.)]

Another example, of more Lombardic design however, is found in the

church of Rosheim in Alsace, the façade of which (Woodcut No. 716)

belongs as much to Verona as to this side of the Alps. Its interior is

of pleasing design, though bolder and more massive than the exterior

would lead us to expect.

The façade of the church of Marmoutier in the same province, and of the

cathedral of Gebweiler, are two examples—very similar to one another—of

a compromise between the purely German and purely Italian styles of

design. The small openings in the former look almost like those of a

southern clime, but in its present locality give to the church an

appearance of gloom by no means usual. Still it has the merit of

vigorous and purpose-like character.

[Illustration: 717. Church at Marmoutier (Maarmünster). (From Chapuy.)]

At Bamberg the church of St. Jacob is well worthy of attention, and the

Scotch church at Ratisbon is one of the best specimens in Germany of a

simple basilica without transepts or towers. Its principal entrance is a

bold and elegant piece of design, covered with grotesque figures whose

meaning it is difficult to understand. Had it been placed at the end of

the church, it might have formed the basis of a magnificent façade; but

stuck unsymmetrically on one side—as is so usual in Germany—it loses

half its effect, and can only be considered as a detached piece of

ornamentation, which is here—as it generally is—fatal to its effect as

an architectural composition.

DOUBLE CHURCHES.

Before leaving ecclesiastical buildings, it is necessary to allude to a

class of double churches and double chapels. Of the former the typical

example is the church of Schwartz Rheindorf, erected by Arnold von Wied,

Archbishop of Cologne, on his return from Constantinople in 1148, and

dedicated in the year 1151. It is in itself a pleasing specimen of the

style, irrespective of its peculiarity. It is, however, simply a church

in two storeys, and was originally built as a mausoleum, and in the form

of a Greek cross without a tower at the intersection. After the death of

the Archbishop, his sister Hedwig (Abbess of Essen) extended the nave

two bays towards the west in order to form a junction with a nunnery

which she had built on the west side. It is probable that the Byzantine

plan first carried out exercised much influence on the churches at

Cologne and the Rhine generally. At first sight, the lower church looks

like an extensive crypt, but this does not seem to have been its purpose

so much as to afford an increase of accommodation, to enable two

congregations to hear the same service at the same time, there being

always in the centre of the floor of the upper church an opening

sufficient for those above to hear the service, and for some of them at

least to see the altar below. In castle chapels, where this method is

most common, the upper storey seems to have been occupied by the

noblesse, the lower by their retainers, which makes the arrangement

intelligible enough.[384]

[Illustration: 718. Section of Church of Schwartz Rheindorf. Scale 50

ft. to 1 in.]

The church at Schwartz Rheindorf is not large, being only 112 ft. long,

over all, by 53 ft. wide across the transepts; and the two western bays

appear to have been added afterwards. The walls of the lower storey are

built of sufficient thickness to admit of a gallery being carried all

round the church externally on the level of the floor of the upper

church. This gives it a very peculiar but pleasing character; and as the

details are good and appropriately designed, it is altogether as

characteristic and as original a design as can well be found of the

purely German style of its age.

[Illustration: 719. View of the Church of Schwartz Rheindorf. (From

Simon.)]

In the castle at Nuremberg there is an old double chapel of this sort,

but it does not appear in this instance that there was an opening

between the two; if it existed, it has been stopped up. There is another

at Eger, and two are described by Puttrich in his beautiful work on

Saxony: one of these, the chapel at Landsberg near Halle, is given in

plan and section in Woodcuts Nos. 720 and 721; and though small, being

only 40 ft. by 28 internally, presents some beautiful combinations, and

the details are finished with a degree of elegance not generally found

in larger edifices; the other, that at Freiburg on the Unstrutt,

measuring 21 ft. by 28, is altogether the best of the class, from the

beauty of its capitals and the finish of every part of it. It belongs in

time to the very end of the 12th, or rather perhaps to the 13th century,

and from the form of its vaults and the foliation of their principal

ribs, one is almost inclined to ascribe to it a later period; for it

would be by no means wonderful if in a gem like this the lords of the

castle should revert to their old German style instead of adopting

foreign innovations. The windows are of pointed Gothic, and do not

appear like insertions. Other examples exist at Goslar, where, however,

there is no opening between lower and upper chapel; at Coburg, Lohra,

Steinfurt in Westphalia, and Vianden in Luxemburg.

[Illustration: 720. Plan of Chapel at Landsberg. (From Puttrich.)]

[Illustration: 721. Section of Chapel at Landsberg. (From Puttrich.)]

[Illustration: 722. View and Plan of the Cathedral at Zurich. (From

Voselin.) Scale 100 ft. to 1 in.]

Returning again to Switzerland, with which this chapter began, we find

several interesting buildings in that country during the whole

round-arched Gothic period, many combining the boldness of the Northern

examples with a certain amount of Southern elegance of feeling in the

details, which together make a very charming combination. Among these,

none are more remarkable than the cathedral at Zurich (Woodcut No. 722).

Its date is not correctly known; for though it seems that a church was

founded here in the time of Otho the Great, it is very uncertain whether

any part of that building is incorporated in the present edifice, the

bulk of which is evidently of the 11th or 12th century. The arrangement

and details of the nave are so absolutely identical with those of San

Michele at Pavia, that both must certainly belong to the same epoch. But

in this church we meet with several German peculiarities to which

attention cannot be too frequently drawn by those who would characterise

correctly the peculiarities of German Gothic.

[Illustration: 723. Doorway at Basle. (From Chapuy.)]

The first of these is the absence of any entrance in the west front.

Where there is an apse at either end, as is frequently the case in the

German churches, the cause is perfectly intelligible; but the cathedral

of Zurich has not, and never had, an apse at the west end, nor is it

easy to suggest any motive for so unusual an arrangement, unless it is

that the prevalence of the plan of two apses had rendered it more usual

to enter churches in Germany at the side, and it was consequently

adopted even where the true motive was wanting. In an architectural

point of view, it certainly is a mistake, and destroys half the effect

of the church, both internally and externally; but it was very common in

Germany before they learnt from the French to make a more artistic

arrangement of the several parts.

Another peculiarity is the distinct preparation for two towers at the

west end, as proved by the two great piers, evidently intended to

support their inner angles. Frequently in Germany the whole west end was

carried up to a considerable height above the roof of the nave, and

either two or three small spires were placed on this frontal screen.

This, however, does not appear to have been the case here; for though

the two towers that now adorn it are modern, the intention seems

originally to have been the same. Had they been intended to flank the

portal, and give dignity to the principal entrance, their motive would

have been clear; but where no portal was intended, it is curious that

the Germans should so universally have used them, while the Italians,

whose portals were almost as universally on their west fronts, should

hardly ever have resorted to this arrangement.

The east end, as will be observed, is square, an arrangement not unusual

in Switzerland, though nearly unknown in the Gothic churches of Italy

and Germany. The lateral chapels have apses, especially the southern

one, which I believe to be either the oldest part of the cathedral, or

to have been built on the foundations of that of Otho the Great.

The most beautiful and interesting parts of this church are the northern

doorway and the cloisters, both of nearly the same age, their date

certainly extending some way at least into the 12th century. As

specimens of the sculpture of their age, they are almost unrivalled, and

strike even the traveller coming from Italy as superior to any of the

contemporary sculpture of that country.

One of the doorways of the cathedral of Basle (Woodcut No. 723) is in

the same style, and perhaps even more elegant than that of Zurich. Both

in the simplicity of its form and in the appropriateness of its details

it is quite equal to anything to be found in Italy of the 11th or 12th

century. Its one defect, as compared with Northern examples, is the want

of richness in the archivolts that surmount the doorway. But, on the

other hand, nothing can exceed the elegance of the shafts on either

side, the niches of the buttresses, or of the cornice which surmounts

the whole composition.

These details of the Swiss buildings are well worthy of the most

attentive consideration, inasmuch as they equal those of Provence or the

North of Italy in elegance of feeling and design, while they are free

from the classical trammels which so frequently mar their

appropriateness in those provinces. In Switzerland they are as original

as in Northern Germany, and as picturesque, while they are free from the

grotesqueness that so frequently mars the beauty of even the best

examples in that country.

CHAPTER III.

CIRCULAR CHURCHES.

CONTENTS.

Aix-la-Chapelle—Nymwegen—Fulda—Bonn—Cobern.

IF we are fortunate in having the St. Gall plan and Reichenau cathedral

with which to begin our history of the basilican-formed churches in

Germany, we are equally lucky in having in the Dom at Aix-la-Chapelle an

authentic example of a circular church of the same age. As Emperor of

the Romans, Charlemagne seems to have felt it necessary that he should

have a tomb which should rival that of Augustus or Hadrian, while, as he

was a Christian, it should follow the form of that of Constantine, or

the most approved model of the circular church, which was that which had

been elaborated not very long before at Ravenna. Though its design may

have been influenced by Romano-Byzantine examples to some extent, the

general arrangement of the building, and its details exhibit an

originality which is very remarkable. The mode in which the internal

octagon is converted into a polygon of sixteen sides, the arrangement of

the vaults in both storeys, and the whole design, are so purely

Romanesque in form, that it must be far from being the first example of

its style. It is, however, the oldest we possess, as well as the most

interesting. It was built by the greatest man of his age, and more

emperors have been crowned and more important events have happened

beneath its venerable vaults than have been witnessed within the walls

of any existing church in Christendom. Notwithstanding the doubts that

have been thrown lately on the fact, I feel convinced that we now

possess the church of Charlemagne in all essential respects as he left

it.[385] The great difficulty in fixing its age appears to arise from

the circumstance that most of its architectural ornaments have been

painted or executed in mosaic, instead of being carved, and time and

whitewash have so obliterated these, that the remaining skeleton—it is

little else—seems ruder and clumsier than might be expected.

As will be seen from the annexed plan, the church is externally a

polygon of sixteen sides, and is about 105 ft. in diameter; internally

eight compound piers support a dome 47 ft. 6 in. in diameter. The height

is almost exactly equal to the external diameter of the building.

Internally this height is divided into four storeys; the two lower,

running over the side-aisles, are covered with bold intersecting vaults.

The third gallery was vaulted with rampant conical vaults, and above

that are eight windows giving light to the central dome.

[Illustration:

Half Plan Gallery Floor.

Half Plan Lower Storey.

724. Plan of the Church at Aix-la-Chapelle. (From J. von Nolten.)

Scale 100 ft. to 1 in.

]

To the west was a bold tower-like building, flanked, as is usual in this

style, by two circular towers containing staircases. To the east was a

semicircular niche containing the altar, which was removed in 1353, when

the present choir was built to replace it.

There is a tradition that Otho III. rebuilt this minster, though it is

more probable that he built for himself a tomb-house behind the altar of

that of his illustrious predecessor, where his bones were laid, and

where his tomb till lately stood at the spot marked X in the centre of

the new choir. What the architect seems to have done in the 14th century

was to throw the two buildings into one, retaining the outline of Otho’s

tomb-house, which may still be detected in the unusual form shown in the

plan of the new building.

The tradition is that this building is a copy of the church of San

Vitale at Ravenna, and on comparing its plan with that represented in

Woodcut No. 429, it must be admitted that there is a considerable

resemblance. But there is a bold originality in the German edifice, and

a purpose in its design, that would lead us rather to consider it as one

of a long series of similar buildings which there is every reason to

believe existed in Germany in that age. At the same time the design of

this one was no doubt considerably influenced by the knowledge of the

Romano-Byzantine examples of its class which its builders had acquired

at Rome and Ravenna. Its being designed by its founder for his tomb is

quite sufficient to account for its circular plan—that, as has been

frequently remarked, being the form always adopted for this purpose. It

may be considered to have been also a baptistery—the coronation of kings

in those days being regarded as a re-baptism on the entrance of the king

upon a new sphere of life. It was in fact a ceremonial church, as

distinct in its uses as in its form from the basilica, which in Italy

usually accompanied the circular church; but whether it did so or not in

this instance can only be ascertained when the spot and its annals are

far more carefully examined than has hitherto been the case.

[Illustration: 725. Church at Nymwegen. (From Schayes.) No scale.]

[Illustration: 725_a_. The Thurm, Mettlach.]

[Illustration: 725_b_. Column of Triforium, Mettlach.]

The circular churches at Nymwegen in Brabant and at Mettlach near Trèves

are even less known than this one; the former was apparently built in

imitation of Aix-la-Chapelle, and by the same monarch. From the

half-section, half-elevation (Woodcut No. 725),[386] it will be seen

that it is extremely similar to the one just described, both in plan and

elevation, but evidently of a somewhat more modern date. It wants the

façade which usually adorned churches of that age; but it seems so

unaltered from its original arrangement that it is well worthy of more

attention than it has hitherto received. The example at Mettlach

(Woodcut No. 725_a_), near Trèves, and known as the Thurm, was built by

Lioffinus, a British monk, 987-990. It is octagonal in plan, with a

triforium gallery, the arches of which are carried on richly carved

cubical capitals (Woodcut No. 725_b_). The building is 32 ft. in

diameter and 61 ft. high, there being a third storey above the triforium

gallery.

The same design as that of Nymwegen was repeated in the choir of the

nuns in the abbey church of Essen (c. 950 A.D.), where, however, there

is a double range of columns in the upper gallery.

Of the church of Otho the Great at Magdeburg we know nothing but from a

model in stone, about 12 ft. in diameter, still existing in the present

cathedral, and containing sitting effigies of Otho and his English

Edith, who were buried in the original edifice. The model unfortunately

was made in the 13th century, when the original was burnt down; and as

the artists in that day were singularly bad copyists, we cannot depend

much on the resemblance. It appears, however, to have been a polygon of

sixteen sides externally, like the two just mentioned; and if it is

correct to assume, as was generally the case, that the choir of the

present cathedral is built on the foundation of the older church, its

dimensions must have been nearly similar, or only slightly inferior to

those of either of the two last-mentioned churches. The details of the

model belong to the age in which it was made, and not to that of the

church it was meant to represent.

At Ottmarsheim, in Alsace, is another example which, both in design and

dimensions, is a direct copy of the church at Aix-la-Chapelle. The only

difference in plan is that it remains an octagon externally as well as

internally, and that the gallery arches, instead of being filled with a

screen of classical pillars borrowed from Italy, are ornamented with

shafts supporting eight arches designed for the place. There is no

tradition which tells us who built this church, nor for what purpose it

was erected. It is older than that at Nymwegen, but is certainly a copy

of Charlemagne’s church, and apparently not very much more modern.

At the Petersberg, near Halle, is a curious compound example shown in

the Woodcut No. 726. It is a ruin, but interesting as showing another

form of circular church, differing from those described above, more

essentially German in design, and less influenced by classical and

Romanesque forms than they were. It never was or could have been

vaulted, and it possesses that singular flat tower-like frontispiece so

characteristic of the German style, which is found in no other country,

and whose origin is still to be traced.

At Fulda there is a circular church of a more complicated plan than

this, though it is in fact only an extension of the same design. The

circular part or choir is in this instance adorned with eight

free-standing pillars of very classical proportions and design, very

similar to those of Hildesheim (Woodcut No. 699). There is a small

transeptal entrance on one side of the circle, and apparently a vestry

to correspond on the other. It is altogether one of the most perfect

buildings of its class, either in Germany or France, in so far at least

as its plan is concerned. Its date is probably the beginning of the 11th

century, but it stands on a circular crypt of still more ancient

date.[387]

[Illustration: 726. Church at Petersberg. (From Puttrich.)]

[Illustration: 727. Plan of Church at Fulda. (From Puttrich.) Scale 50

ft. to 1 in.]

At Drüggelte, near Soest, there is a small circular church which

deserves notice for the singularity of its plan. Externally it is a

polygon of twelve sides. Internally it has four circular piers in the

centre, two very large and strong, two more slender, and around them a

circle of twelve columns of very attenuated form. As is usual in German

churches, the door and apse are not placed symmetrically as regards each

other. Its dimensions are small, being only 35 ft. across internally.

The German architects are not quite agreed as to its date; generally it

is said that its founder brought the plan from the Holy Land, and built

it here early in the 12th century in imitation of the Rotunda which the

Crusaders found on their arrival in Jerusalem.

[Illustration: 728. Plan of Church at Drüggelte. (From Kugler.) Scale 50

ft. to 1 in.]

Though it is anticipating to some extent the order of the dates of the

buildings of Germany, it may be as well to complete here the subject of

the circular churches of that country; for after the beginning of the

11th century they ceased to be used except in rare and isolated

instances. At that date all the barbarian tribes had been converted, and

the baptism of infants was a far less important ceremony than the

admission of adults into the bosom of the Church, and one not requiring

a separate edifice for its celebration, and tombs had long since ceased

to be objects of ambition among a purely Aryan race. At the same time

the immense increase of the ecclesiastical orders, and liturgical forms

then established, rendered the circular form of church inconvenient and

inapplicable to the wants of the age. The basilica, on the other hand,

was equally sacred with the baptistery, and soon came to be considered

equally applicable to the entombment of emperors and to other similar

purposes.

The circular church called the Baptistery at Bonn (Woodcut No. 729),

which was removed only a few years ago, was one of the most interesting

specimens of this class of monuments in the age to which it belongs. No

record of its erection has been preserved, but its style is evidently of

the 11th century. Excepting that the straight or rectangular part is

here used as a porch, instead of being inserted between the apse and the

round church to form a choir, the building is almost identical with St.

Tomaso in Limine, and other Lombard churches of the same age. Both

externally and internally it is certainly a pleasing and elegant form of

church, though little adapted either for the accommodation of a large

congregation or to the ceremonies of the Mediæval Church.

[Illustration: 729. Baptistery at Bonn. (From Boisserée’s ‘Nieder

Rhein.’)]

There is another small edifice called a Baptistery at Ratisbon, built in

the last years of the 12th century, which shows this form passing

rapidly away, and changing into the rectangular. It is in reality a

square with apses on three sides, and vaulted with an octagonal dome. As

we have just seen, the same arrangement forms the principal as well as

the most pleasing characteristic of the Cologne churches, where on a

larger scale it shows capabilities which we cannot but regret were never

carried to their legitimate termination. The present is a singularly

pleasing specimen of the class, though very small, and wanting the nave,

the addition of which gives such value to the triapsal form at Cologne,

and shows how gracefully its lines inevitably group together. On the

spot it is still called the Baptistery; but the correct tradition, I

believe, is that it was built for the tomb-house of the bishop to whom

it owes its erection.

[Illustration: 730. The Matthias Chapel at Cobern on the Moselle. (From

Wiebeking.) No scale.]

One more specimen will serve to illustrate nearly all the known forms of

this class. It is a little chapel at Cobern on the Moselle (Woodcut No.

730), hexagonal in plan, with an apse, placed most unsymmetrically with

reference to the entrance—so at least we should consider it; but the

Germans seem always to have been of opinion that a side entrance was

preferable to one opposite the principal point of interest. The details

of this chapel are remarkably elegant, and its external form is a very

favourable specimen of the German style just before it was superseded in

the beginning of the 13th century by the French pointed style.

There is, besides these, a circular chapel of uncertain date at

Altenfurt near Nuremberg, and there are many others at Prague and in

various parts of Germany, but none remarkable either for their

historical or for their artistic importance. This form went out of use

before the style we are describing reached its acmé; and it had not

therefore a fair chance of receiving that elaboration which was

necessary for the development of its capabilities.

A little farther on we shall have occasion again to take up the subject

of circular churches when speaking of those of Scandinavia, where the

circular form prevailed to a great extent in the early ages of

Christianity in that country; never, however, as a baptistery or a

tomb-house, but always as a kirk. It was afterwards introduced by the

Danes into Norfolk and Suffolk, but there still farther modified,

becoming only a western round tower, instead of a circular nave.

CHAPTER IV.

DOMESTIC ARCHITECTURE.

CONTENTS.

Lorsch—Palaces on the Wartburg and at Gelnhausen—Houses—Windows.

AS might be expected, the remains of domestic architecture are few and

insignificant as compared with those of the great monumental churches,

which in that age were the buildings _par excellence_ on which the

wealth, the talent and the energy of the nation were so profusely

lavished.

[Illustration: 731. Porch of Convent at Lorsch. (From Möller’s

‘Denkmäler,’ &c.) No scale.]

The earliest building which has been brought to light is certainly the

portal of the Convent at Lorsch, near Mannheim. It is now used as a

store and has been a good deal defaced; but sufficient remains, not only

to show its form, but the character of its details. These are so

classical as to justify us in calling the building Romanesque; and if it

were not that we have buildings—such for instance as St.

Paul-Trois-Châteaux (Woodcut No. 551), which may date in the 10th and

11th century—we might be inclined to assert most confidently that the

date of this building must approximate nearly to the time of the

departure of the Romans. On the other hand, the purely classical details

of such buildings as those found in Provence must render us cautious in

judging of the age of any erection at that early time, from the style

alone. No church in Germany is so classical in its details as this, but

it will not do to rely on these alone for evidence of date; for a

hundred churches may have been built for one portal like this, and

though ecclesiastical forms had become sacred, an architect may have

felt himself justified in resorting to any amount of Paganism in a

semi-secular building. On the whole there seems little doubt but that

this porch formed part of the monastic building dedicated in the

presence of Charlemagne in 774. It may, however, have been erected by an

Italian architect, and consequently be more classical in its details

than if the product of some purely Teutonic artist.

Its dimensions are inconsiderable, being only 31 ft. by 24. It has three

arches in each face, and above them a series of pilasters supporting

straight-lined arches—if the expression may be used. These are

interesting, as the same form is currently used in our Saxon

architecture, but never with such purely classical details as here. It

is, in fact, only the elegance of these that gives interest to this

building.

Nothing now remains of the palaces which Charlemagne built at Ingelheim,

or at Aix-la-Chapelle, nor of the residences of many of his successors,

till we come to the period of the Hohenstaufens. Of their palaces at

Gelnhausen (1170 A.D.) and on the Wartburg (1140-1190 A.D.) enough

remains to tell us at least in what style and with what degree of taste

they were erected, and the remains of the contemporary castle of

Muenzenburg complete, as far as we can ever now expect it to be

completed, our knowledge of the subject.

One of the earliest palaces still existing is that of the Imperial

Palace at Goslar, founded by Henry III. It has suffered much from

restorations, but probably retains its original plan, the chief feature

of which is an immense hall on the upper storey measuring 181 ft. long

by 52 ft. wide. Another example with similar hall of less size is found

in the Palace of Dankwarderode, in Brunswick, 1150-70. Of the same date

is the Palace of Eger, to which Frederic Barbarossa added a chapel in

two storeys, similar to the double chapel of Landsberg, both of which

are referred to on page 243.

Besides these a considerable number of ecclesiastical cloistered

edifices still remain, and some important dwelling-houses in Cologne and

elsewhere; but on the whole our knowledge is somewhat meagre,—a

circumstance that is much to be lamented, as, from what we do find, we

cannot fail to form a high idea of the state of the domestic building

arts at that period.

What remains of the once splendid palace of Barbarossa at Gelnhausen

consists first of a chapel very similar to those described in the last

chapter; it is architecturally a double chapel, except that the lower

storey was used as the hall of entrance to the palace, and not for

divine service. To the left of this were the principal apartments of the

palace, presenting a façade of about 112 ft. in length, and probably

half as high. Along the front ran a corridor about 10 ft. deep, a

precaution apparently necessary to keep out rain before glass came to be

generally used. Behind this there seem to have been three rooms on each

floor; the largest, or throne-room, being about 50 ft. square. The

principal architectural features of what remains are the open arcades of

the façade, one of which is represented in the last woodcut (No. 732).

For elegance of proportion and beauty of detail they are unsurpassed by

anything of the age, and certainly give a very high idea of the degree

of excellence to which architecture and the decorative arts had then

been carried, and, as will be observed, they are purely Romanesque in

detail, without any trace of the classicality of Lorsch.

[Illustration: 732. Arcade of the Palace at Gelnhausen. (From Möller.)]

[Illustration: 733. Capital, Gelnhausen. (From Möller, ‘Denkmäler.’)]

The castle on the Wartburg is historically the most important edifice of

its class in Germany, and its size and state of preservation render it

remarkable in an artistic point of view. It was in one of its halls that

the celebrated contest was held between the six most eminent poets of

Germany in the year 1206, which, though it nearly ended fatally to one

of them at least, shows how much importance was attached to the

profession of literature at even that early period. Here the sainted

Elizabeth of Hungary lived with her cruel brother-in-law; here she

practised those virtues and endured those misfortunes that render her

name so dear and so familiar to all the races of Germany; and it was in

this castle that Luther found shelter after leaving the Diet at Worms,

and where he resided under the name of Ritter George, till happier times

enabled him to resume his labours abroad.

[Illustration: 734. View of the Palace on the Wartburg. (From

Puttrich.)]

The principal building in the castle where these events took place

closely resembles that at Gelnhausen, except that it is larger, being

130 ft. in length by 50 in width. It is three storeys in height, without

counting the basement, which is added to the height at one end by the

slope of the ground.

All along the front of every storey is an open corridor leading to the

inner rooms, the dimensions of which cannot now be easily ascertained,

owing to the castle having been always inhabited, and altered in modern

times to suit the convenience and wants of its recent occupiers. In its

details it has hardly the elegance of Gelnhausen, but its general

appearance is solid and imposing, the whole effect being obtained by the

grouping of the openings, in which respect it resembles the older

palaces at Venice more than any other buildings of the class. It has not

perhaps their minute elegance, but it far surpasses them in grandeur and

in all the elements of true architectural magnificence. It has been

recently restored, apparently with considerable judgment, and it well

deserves the pains bestowed upon it as one of the best illustrations of

its style still existing in Europe.

The extensive ruins of the castle on the Münzenberg, which, like those

of Gelnhausen and Wartburg, belongs to the 13th century, though less

important, is hardly less elegant than either. It derives a peculiar

species of picturesqueness from being built principally of the prismatic

basalt of the neighbourhood, the crystals being used in their natural

form, and where these were not available, the stones have been

rusticated with a boldness that gives great value to the more ornamental

parts, in themselves objects of considerable beauty.

None of these castles have much pretension to interest or magnificence

as fortifications,—a circumstance which gives an idea of more peaceful

times and more settled security than we could quite expect in that age,

especially as we find in the period of the pointed style so many and

such splendid fortifications crowning every eminence along the banks of

the Rhine, and indeed in every corner of the land. These last may, in

some instances, have been rebuildings of castles of this date, but I am

not aware of any having been ascertained to be so.

There is no want of specimens of conventual buildings and cloisters in

Germany of this age; but every one is singularly deficient both in

design as a whole and in the elegance of its parts. The beautiful

arcades of the palaces we have just been describing nowhere reappear in

conventual buildings. Why this should be so it is difficult to

understand, but such certainly is the fact. The most elegant that is

known to exist is probably the cloister to the cathedral at Zurich. It

is nearly square, from 60 to 70 ft. each way. Every side is divided into

five bays by piers supporting bold semicircular arches, and these are

again subdivided into three smaller arches supported by two slender

pillars. The arrangement will be understood from the woodcut (No. 735).

This cloister is superior in design to many in France and elsewhere of

the same age; its great beauty consists in the details of the capitals

and string-courses, which are all different, most of them with figures

singularly well executed, but many merely with conventional foliage, not

unlike the honeysuckle of the Greeks, and not unworthy of the comparison

as far as the mere design is concerned, though the execution is rude.

The same is the case with the sculptures of the portal; for though they

display even less classical feeling, they show an exuberance of fancy

and a boldness of handling which we miss entirely in the succeeding

ages, when the art yielded to make way for mere architectural mouldings,

as if the two could not exist together. The example of Greece forbids us

to believe that such is necessarily the case, but in the Middle Ages it

certainly was, that as the one advanced nearer to perfection, the other

declined in almost an equal degree.

[Illustration: 735. Cloister at Zurich. (From Chapuy, ‘Moyen-Âge

Monumental.’)]

The best collection of examples of German cloisters is found in

Boisserée’s ‘Nieder Rhein.’ But neither those of St. Gereon nor of the

Apostles, nor St. Pantaleone at Cologne, merit attention as works of

art, though they are certainly curious as historical monuments; and the

lateral galleries of Sta. Maria in the Capitol are even inferior in

design; their resemblance, however, to the style of Ravenna gives them

some value archæologically. The same remarks apply to the cloisters at

Heisterbach, and even to the more elegant transitional buildings at

Altenberg. Almost all these examples, nevertheless, possess some elegant

capitals and some parts worthy of study; but they are badly put together

and badly used, so that the pleasing effect of a cloistered court and

conventual buildings is here almost entirely lost. The cause of this is

hard to explain, when we see so much beauty of design in the buildings

to which they are generally accompaniments.

There are several dwelling-houses in Cologne and elsewhere which show

how early German town-residences assumed the tall gabled fronts which

they retained to a very late period through all the changes which took

place in the details with which they were carried out. In the

illustration (Woodcut No. 736) there is little ornament, but the forms

of the windows and the general disposition of the parts are pleasing,

and the general effect produced certainly satisfactory. The size of the

lower windows is remarkable for the age, and the details are pure, and

are executed with a degree of lightness which we are far from

considering as a general characteristic of so early a style.

[Illustration: 736. Dwelling-house, Cologne. (From Boisserée.)]

The windows at the back of the house illustrated in Woodcut No. 736, are

so large, that were it not for the unmistakable character of those in

front, and of some of its details, we might be inclined to suspect that

it belonged to a much more modern age. As shown in the Woodcut No. 737,

the details are as light and elegant as anything domestic in

architecture of the pointed style.

There are several minor peculiarities which perhaps it might be more

regular to mention here, but which it will be more convenient to allude

to when speaking of the pointed style. One, however, cannot thus be

passed over—and that is the form which windows in churches and cloisters

were beginning to assume just before the period when the transition to

the pointed style took place.

[Illustration: 737. Windows in Dwelling-house, Cologne.]

[Illustration: 738. Windows from Sion Church, Cologne. (From

Boisserée.)]

[Illustration: 739. Windows from St. Quirinus at Neuss. (From

Boisserée.)]

Up to that period the Germans showed no tendency to adopt window

tracery, in the sense in which it was afterwards understood, nor to

divide their windows into compartments by mullions. I do not even know

of an instance in any church of the windows being so grouped together as

to suggest such an expedient. All their older windows, on the contrary,

are simple round-headed openings, with the jambs more or less ornamented

by nook-shafts and other such expedients. At the end of the 12th and

beginning of the 13th century they seem to have desired to render the

openings more ornamental, probably because tracery had to a certain

extent been adopted in France and the Netherlands at that period. They

did this first by foiling circles and semicircles; the former a

pleasing, the latter a very unpleasing, form of window, but not so bad

as the three-quarter windows—if I may so call them—used in the church of

Sion at Cologne (Woodcut No. 738) and elsewhere: these, however, are

hardly so objectionable as the fantastic shapes they sometimes assumed,

as in the examples (Woodcut No. 739), taken from St. Quirinus at Neuss.

Many others might be quoted, the forms of which are constructively bad

without being redeemed by an elegance of outline that sometimes enables

us to overlook their other faults. The more fantastic of these, it is

true, were seldom glazed, but were mere openings in towers or into

roofs. These windows are also generally found in transition specimens,

in which men try experiments before settling down to a new course of

design. Notwithstanding this, they are very objectionable, and are the

one thing that shakes that confidence which might otherwise be felt in

the power of the old German style to have perfected itself without

foreign aid.

CHAPTER V.

POINTED STYLE IN GERMANY.

CONTENTS.

History of style—St. Gereon, Cologne—Churches at Gelnhausen—Marburg—

Cologne Cathedral—Freiburg—Strasburg—St. Stephen’s, Vienna—Nuremberg—

Mühlhausen—Erfurt.

IT is scarcely necessary to repeat—what has been already perhaps

sufficiently insisted upon—that the Germans borrowed their pointed style

from the French at a period when it had attained its highest degree of

perfection in the latter country. At all events, we have already seen

that the pointed style was commonly used in France in the first half of

the 12th century, and that it was nearly perfect in all essential parts

before the year 1200; whereas, though there may be here and there a

solitary instance of a pointed arch in Germany (though I know of none)

before the last-named date, there is certainly no church or building

erected in the pointed Gothic style the date of which is anterior to the

first years of the 13th century. Even then it was timidly and

reluctantly adopted, and not at first as a new style, but rather as a

modification to be employed in conjunction with old forms.

This is very apparent in the polygonal part of the church of St. Gereon

at Cologne (Woodcuts Nos. 740 and 741), commenced in the first year of

the 13th century, and vaulted about the year 1212.[388] The plan of the

building is eminently German, being in fact a circular nave, as

contradistinguished from the French chevet, and is a fine bold attempt

at a domical building, of which it is among the last examples. In plan

it is an irregular decagon, 55 ft. wide over all, north and south, and

66 ft. in the direction of the axis of the church. Notwithstanding the

use of the pointed arch, the details of the building are as unlike the

contemporary style of France as is the plan; and are, in fact, nearly a

century behind French examples in the employment of all those expedients

which give character and meaning to the true pointed style.

Another church in the same city, St Cunibert, is a still more striking

example of this. Commenced in the first decade of the 13th century, and

dedicated in 1248, the very year in which it is said the

foundation-stones of the cathedral were laid, it still retains nearly

all the features of the old German style, and though pointed arches are

introduced, and even tracery to a limited extent, it is still very far

removed from being what can be considered an example of the new style.

[Illustration: 740. Section of St. Gereon, Cologne. (From Boisserée,

‘Nieder Rhein.’) Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.]

[Illustration: 741. Plan of St. Gereon, Cologne. (From Boisserée.) Scale

50 ft. to 1 in.]

More advanced than either of these is the choir of the cathedral of

Magdeburg, said to have been commenced in 1208, and dedicated in 1254.

This was built, as before mentioned, to supply the place of the old

circular sepulchral church of Otho and his English queen Edith. Hence it

naturally took the French chevet form, of which it is, probably, the

earliest example in Germany, and which it copies rudely and imperfectly

in its details. It possesses the polygonal plan, the graduated

buttresses, the decorative shafts, and other peculiarities of the French

style, and, if found in that country, would be classed as of about the

same age as St. Denis. The upper part of the choir and the nave are of

very much later date, and will be mentioned hereafter.

[Illustration: 742. East End of Church at Gelnhausen. No scale.]

A more interesting example of transition than this is the church at

Gelnhausen, unfortunately not of well-known date, but apparently built

in the middle of the 13th century, though the choir, it is said, was not

finished till 1370. Its interest lies in its originality, for though the

pointed arch is adopted, it is in a manner very different from that

followed by the French, and as if the architects were determined to

retain a style of their own. In general design its outline is very like

that of the church at Sinzig (Woodcut No. 713). In it attempts are even

made to copy its apsidal galleries, but their purpose is misunderstood,

and pillars are placed in front of windows,—a blunder afterwards

carried, at Strasburg and else where, to a far more fatal extent. Taken

altogether, the style here exhibited is light and graceful; but it

neither has the stability of the old round-arched Gothic, nor the

capabilities of the French pointed style. The Liebfrauen church attached

to the cathedral at Trèves is another of the anomalous churches of this

age (1227 to 1243): its plan has already been given (Woodcut No. 696),

and was probably suggested by the form of the old circular building

which it supplanted. Perhaps from its proximity to France it shows a

more complete Gothic style than either of those already mentioned; still

the circular arch continually recurs in doorways and windows, and

altogether the uses of the pointed forms and the general arrangement of

parts and details cannot be said to be well understood. There is,

however, a novelty, truly German in its plan and a simplicity about its

arrangement, which make it the most pleasing specimen of the age, and

standing on the foundation of the old church of Sta. Helena, and grouped

with the Dom or cathedral, it yields in interest to few churches in

Germany.

From these we may pass at once to two churches of well-authenticated

date, and slightly French in style. The first, that of St. Elizabeth at

Marburg, whose name has been already mentioned (p. 258) as adding

interest and sanctity to the old castle on the Wartburg. Four years

after her death she was canonised, and in the same year, 1235, the

foundation was laid of this beautiful church, which was completed and

dedicated forty-eight years afterwards, viz., in 1283.

[Illustration: 743. Plan of the Church at Marburg. (From Möller’s

‘Denkmäler.’) Scale 100 ft. to 1 in.]

[Illustration: 744. Section of Church at Marburg. Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.]

It is a small church, being only 208 ft. in length by 69 in width

internally, and though the details are all of good early French style,

it still exhibits several _Germanisms_, being triapsal in plan, and the

three aisles being of the same height. The latter must be considered as

a serious defect, for besides the absence of contrast, either the narrow

side-aisles appear too tall or the central one too low. This has also

caused the defect of two storeys of windows being placed throughout in

one height of wall, and without even a gallery to give meaning to such

an arrangement. No French architect ever fell into such a mistake, and

it shows how little the builders who could not avoid such a solecism

understood the spirit of the style they were copying. The west front

with its two spires is somewhat later in date, but of elegant design,

and is pleasingly proportioned to the body of the church, which is

rarely the case in Germany.

[Illustration: 745. Plan of Church at Altenberg. Scale 100 ft. to 1 in.]

The other church is that at Altenberg, not far from Cologne, on the

opposite side of the river Rhine. The foundation-stone was laid in 1255,

and the chapels round the choir completed within a few years of that

time, but the works were then interrupted, and the greater part of the

church not built till the succeeding century. Like all the early

churches of the Cistercian Order it is without towers, and is extremely

simple in its outline and decorations. It is, in fact, almost a copy of

the abbey of Pontigny (Woodcut No. 643), which was built fully a century

earlier, and though it does show some advance in style in the

introduction of tracery into the windows and more variety of outline

externally, it is remarkable how little progress it evinces in the older

parts. In the subsequent erection there are some noble windows filled

with tracery of the very best class, which render this church the best

counterpart Germany can produce of our Tintern Abbey, which it resembles

in many respects. Indeed, taken altogether, this is perhaps the most

satisfactory church of its age and style in Germany, and in the erection

of which the fewest faults have been committed. It was rescued from ruin

by Frederick William IV. of Prussia, but its extensive conventual

buildings have been destroyed by fire.

These examples bring us to the great typical cathedral of Germany, that

of Cologne, which is certainly one of the noblest temples ever erected

by man in honour of his Creator. In this respect Germany has been more

fortunate than either France or England; for though in the number of

edifices in the pointed style and in beauty of design these countries

are far superior, Germany alone possesses one pre-eminent example in

which all the beauties of its style are united.

[Illustration: 746. Plan of Cathedral at Cologne. (From Boisserée.[389])

Scale 100 French ft. to 1 in.]

Generally speaking, it is assumed that the building we now see is that

commenced by Conrad von Hochstetten in the year 1248, but more recent

researches have proved that what he did was to rebuild or restore the

double-apse cathedral of earlier date. The examples just quoted,

however, were no other proof available, are sufficient to show that the

Gothic style was hardly then introduced into Germany, and but very

little understood when practised. It seems that the present building was

begun about the year 1270-1275, and that the choir was completed in all

essentials as we now find it by the year 1322.[390] Had the nave been

completed at the same rate of progress, it would have shown a wide

deviation of style, and the western front, instead of being erected

according to the beautiful design preserved to us, would have been

covered with stump tracery, and other vagaries of the late German

school, all of which are even now observable in the part of the

north-west tower actually erected. As the church is now complete

according to the original design, one of its principal beauties is the

uniformity of style that reigns throughout, contrasting strongly as it

does with the greater number of Northern cathedrals, whose erection

spreads over centuries. In dimensions it is the largest cathedral of

Northern Europe; its extreme length being 468, its extreme breadth 275,

and its superficies 91,464 ft., which is 20,000 ft. more than are

covered by Amiens, and one-fourth more than Amiens was originally

designed to cover. On comparing the eastern halves of these two from the

centre of the intersection of the transept, it will be found that

Cologne is an exact copy of the French cathedral, not only in general

arrangement, but also in dimensions, the only difference being a few

feet of extra length in the choir at Cologne, which is more than made up

at Amiens by the projection of the Lady Chapel. The nave, too, at

Cologne is one bay less in length. On the other hand, the German

building exceeds the French by one additional bay in each transept, the

two extra aisles in the nave, and the enormous substructures of the

western towers. All these are decided faults of design into which no

French architect would have fallen.

Looking at Cologne in any light, no one can fail to perceive that its

principal defect is its relative shortness. If this was unavoidable at

least the transept should have been omitted altogether, as at Bourges,

or kept within the line of the walls, as at Paris, Rheims, and

elsewhere. It is true, our long low English cathedrals require bold

projecting transepts to relieve their monotony; but at Cologne their

projection detracts both internally and externally from the requisite

appearance of length. Indeed, this seems to have been suspected at the

time, as the façades of the transepts were the least finished parts of

the building when it was left, and the modern restorers would have done

well if they had profited by the hesitation of their predecessors, and

omitted an expensive and detrimental addition.

Another defect before alluded to is the double aisles of the nave. It is

true these are found at Paris, but they were an early experiment. At

Bourges the fault is avoided by the aisles being of different heights;

but in none of the best examples, such as Rheims, Chartres, or Amiens,

would the architects have been guilty of dispersing their effects or

destroying their perspectives as is done at Cologne, and now that the

whole of the interior is finished these defects of proportion are become

more apparent than they were before. The clear width of the nave is 41

ft. 6 inches between the piers, its height 155 ft., or nearly four times

the width—a proportion altogether intolerable in architecture. And this

defect is made even more apparent here by the aisles being together

equal in width to the nave, while they are only 60 ft. in height.

Besides the defect of artistic disproportion, this exaggerated height of

the interior has the further disadvantage of dwarfing to a painful

extent the human beings who frequent it. Even the gorgeous ceremonial of

the Catholic Church and their most crowded processions lose all their

effect by comparison with the building in which they are performed. Were

a regiment of Life Guards on horseback to ride down the central aisle at

Cologne, they would be converted into pigmies by the 148 ft. of height

above them. Lateral spaciousness has not the same dwarfing effect; when

all are standing on the same floor, distance does not diminish in a

building more than in the open air, and with that effect we are

familiar, but great height in a room is unusual, and in proportion as it

affects the mind with awe or astonishment does it diminish the

appearance of those objects with which we are familiar. Perhaps,

however, the most striking defect of the internal design is the want of

repose or subordination of parts: 50 pillars practically identical in

design, and spaced nearly equally over the floor, and beyond them

everywhere a wall of glass. If the four central piers had been wider

spaced, or of double the section they now are, or had there been any

plain wall or any lateral chapels anywhere, it would have been better.

Notwithstanding all these defects, it is a glorious temple; but so

mathematically perfect, that not one little corner is left for poetry,

and it is consequently felt to be infinitely less interesting than many

buildings of far less pretensions.

Externally the proportions are as mistaken, if not more so than those of

the interior; the mass and enormous height of the western towers

(actually greater than the whole length of the building), now that they

are completed, have given to the whole cathedral a look of shortness

which nothing can redeem. With such a ground-plan a true architect would

have reduced their mass one-half, and their height by one-third at

least.[391]

Besides its great size, the cathedral of Cologne has the advantage of

having been designed at exactly the best age; while, as before remarked,

the cathedrals of Rheims and Paris were a little too early, St. Ouen’s

too late. The choir of Cologne, which we have seen to be of almost

identical dimensions with that of Amiens, excels its French rival

internally by its glazed triforium, the exquisite tracery of the

windows, the general beauty of the details, and a slightly better

proportion between the height of the aisles and clerestory. But this

advantage is lost externally by the forest of exaggerated pinnacles

which crowd round the upper part of the building, not only in singular

discord with the plainness of the lower storey, but hiding and confusing

the perspective of the clerestory, in a manner as objectionable in a

constructive point of view as it is to the eye of an artist. Decorated

construction is, no doubt, the great secret of true architecture; but

like other good things, this may be overdone. One-half of the abutting

means here employed might have been dispensed with, and the other half

disposed so simply as to do the work without the confusion produced.

When we turn to the interior to see what the vault is, which this mass

of abutments is provided to support, we find it with all the defects of

French vaulting—the ribs few and weak, the ridge undulating, the

surfaces twisted, and the general effect poor and feeble as compared

with the gorgeous walls that support it. Very judicious painting might

remedy this to some extent; but as it now stands the effect is most

unpleasing.

[Illustration: 747. Western Façade of Cathedral of Cologne. (From

Boisserée.)]

The noblest as well as the most original part of the design of this

cathedral is the western façade (Woodcut No. 747). As now completed, it

rises to the height of 510 ft. This front, considered as an independent

feature, without reference to its position, is a very grand conception.

It equals in magnificence those designed for Strasburg and Louvain, and

surpasses both in purity and elegance, though it is very questionable if

the open work of the spires is not carried to far too great an extent,

and even the lower part designed far too much by rule. M. Boisserée

says, “the square and the triangle here reign supreme;” and this is

certainly the case: every part is designed with the scale and the

compasses, and with a mathematical precision perfectly astonishing: but

we miss all the fanciful beauty of the more irregular French and English

examples. The storeyed porches of Rheims, Chartres, and Wells comprise

far more poetry within their limited dimensions than is spread over the

whole surface of this gigantic frontispiece. Cologne is a noble

conception of a mason, but these were the works of artists in the

highest sense of the word.

It is certainly to be regretted that there is no contemporary French

example to compare with Cologne, so that we might have been enabled to

bring this to a clearer test than words can do. St. Ouen’s comes nearest

to it in age and style, but it is so very much smaller as hardly to

admit of comparison; for though the length of the two churches is nearly

identical, the one covers 91,000 square feet, the other little more than

half that, or only 47,000. Yet so judicious is the disposition of the

smaller church, and so exquisite its proportions, that notwithstanding

the late age of its nave, and the inappropriateness of its modern front,

it is internally a more beautiful and almost as imposing a church as

that of Cologne, and externally a far more pleasing study as a work of

art. Had Marc d’Argent commenced his building at the same time as the

builder of Cologne, and seen it completed, or had he left his design for

it prior to 1322, even with its smaller dimensions, it would have been

by far the nobler work of art of the two. These, however, are after all

but vain speculations. We find in Cologne the finest specimen of masonry

attempted in the Middle Ages; and notwithstanding its defects, we now

see in the completed design a really beautiful and noble building,

worthy of its builders and of the religion to which it is dedicated.

At Freiburg, in the Breisgau, there is a contemporary example, commenced

in 1283, and finished in 1330. This fine spire is identical in style

with the Cologne examples, and perhaps on the whole even better,

certainly purer and simpler both in outline and detail, though it is not

clear that the richer ornament of Cologne would not be more in

accordance with this description of lace-work.

[Illustration: 748. View of the Church at Freiburg. (From Möller’s

‘Denkmäler.’)]

The total height of the spire at Freiburg is 385 ft. from the ground,

and is divided into three parts. The lower portion is a square, plain

and simple in its details, with bold prominent buttresses, and

containing a very handsome porch. The second is an octagon of elegant

design, with four triangular pinnacles or spirelets at the angles, which

break most happily the change of outline, and out of this rises,

somewhat abruptly, the spire, 155 ft. in height. An English architect

would have placed eight bolder pinnacles at its base; a French one would

have used a gallery, or taken some means to prevent the cone from merely

resting on the octagon. This junction between the two is poor and badly

managed; but after all, the question is, whether the open spire is not a

mistake, which even the beauty of detail found here cannot altogether

redeem. It is not sufficient to say it is wrong, because a spire is and

ought to be a roof, and this is not. It is true a spire was originally a

roof, and still retains the place of one, and should consequently

suggest the idea; but this is not absolutely indispensable; and if the

tower be insufficient to support the apparent weight of a solid spire,

or for any such reason, the deviation would be excusable, but such is

not the case here, nor at Cologne.

Indeed, it seems that the whole is only another exemplification of the

ruling idea of the German masons, an excessive love of _tours de force_,

and an inordinate desire to do clever things in stone, which soon led

them into all the vagaries of their after Gothic; here it is

comparatively inoffensive, though I still feel convinced that if

one-half the openings of the tracery were filled up, or only a central

trefoil or quatrefoil left open in each division, the effect would be

far more pleasing and satisfactory.

In the spires that flank the transepts, the open work is wholly

unobjectionable, owing to the smallness of the scale; but in the main

and principal feature of the building the case is very different:

dignity and majesty are there required; and the flimsiness, as it might

almost be called, of the open work, goes far to destroy this.

The nave of this church is a fair specimen of the German Gothic of the

age, being contemporary with the spire, or perhaps of a little earlier

date; but the want of the triforium internally, and the consequent heavy

mass of plain wall over the pier-arches, give it a poor and weak

appearance. The choir, a work of the 15th century, runs into all the

extravagance of the later German style; its only merits being its size

and lightness.

Of the other open-work spires of Germany, one of the most beautiful is

that of Thann in Alsace, in which the octagonal part is so light that

anything more solid than the tracery that forms the spires would seem to

crush it.

Besides these, there is a pleasing example at Esslingen; another

attached to the cathedral at Meissen, in favour of which nothing can be

said; and those adorning the two towers of the façade of the cathedral

of Berne, which, because they are so small relatively to the towers they

surmount, and are in fact mere ornaments, are pleasing and graceful

terminations to the front.

Next in rank to Cologne among German cathedrals is that at Strasburg. It

is, however, so much smaller as hardly to admit of a fair comparison,

covering, even with its subsidiary adjuncts, little more than 60,000

square ft. The whole of the eastern part of this church belongs to an

older basilica, built in the 11th and 12th centuries, and is by no means

remarkable either for its beauty or its size, besides being so

overpowered by the nave, which has been added to it, as to render its

appearance somewhat insignificant. The nave and the western front are

the glory and the boast of Alsace, and possess in a remarkable degree

all the beauties and defects of the German style.

[Illustration: 749. Plan of Strasburg Cathedral. Scale 100 ft. to 1 in.]

It is not known when the nave was commenced, but probably in the early

half of the 13th century, and it seems to have been finished about the

year 1275, a date which, if authentic, is in itself quite sufficient to

settle the controversy as to whether any part of Cologne is of an

earlier age, everything we see in Strasburg being of an older style than

anything in that church.

[Illustration: 750. West Front of Cathedral at Strasburg.]

Be this as it may, the details are pure and beautiful, and the design of

singular boldness. The central aisle is 55 ft. wide from centre to

centre of the piers, and the side aisles 33 ft. wide, while the

corresponding dimensions at Cologne are only 49 ft. and 25 ft.

respectively. Notwithstanding this, the vault at Strasburg is only 101

ft. in height against 155 ft. at Cologne. The consequence is, that

measured from centre to centre the central aisle at Cologne is more than

three times as high as it is wide, while at Strasburg it is less than

twice. The whole width of the more northern example is practically equal

to the height—at Strasburg it is one-fifth less; but the one having only

three aisles, while the other has five, makes all these discrepancies

still more apparent. Had the architect at Cologne, instead of

introducing an external aisle, only increased the dimensions of

Strasburg by one-fifth, retaining all its proportions, he would both

externally and internally have produced the noblest building of the

Middle Ages. As it is, the smaller nave of Strasburg is infinitely

superior in proportion and apparent dimensions to that of the larger

building.

This comparative lowness of the nave at Strasburg is greatly in its

favour, as the length, which is only 250 ft., is made the most of, and

the shortness of the cathedral is not perceived.

It does not appear that Erwin von Steinbach had anything to do with this

part of the structure, beyond repairing the vault when damaged by fire

in 1298, at which time he also introduced some new features of no great

importance, but sufficient in some degree to confuse the chronology.

What he really did, was to commence the western façade, of which he laid

the foundation in 1277, and superintended the erection till his death,

41 years afterwards, when he was succeeded by his sons, who carried it

up to the platform in 1365.

The Germans, however, wishing to find a name to place in their Walhalla,

and mistaking entirely the system on which buildings were carried out in

the Middle Ages, had tried to exalt Erwin into a genius of the highest

order, ascribing to him not only the nave, but also the design of the

spire as it now stands. If he had anything to do with the former, he

must have been promoted at a singularly early age to the rank of

master-mason, and have been a most wonderfully old man at the time of

his death; and if he designed the spire, he must have had a strangely

prophetic spirit to foresee forms and details that were not invented

till a century after his death! The fact is, Erwin did no more than

every master-mason of his age could do. There is no novelty or invention

in his design, and only those mistakes and errors which all Germans fell

into when working in pointed Gothic. In the first place, the façade is

much too large for the church, which it crushes and hides; and instead

of using the resources of his art to conceal this defect, he made the

vault of the ante-chapel equal in height to that of Cologne, the result

being that the centre of the great western rose-window is just as high

as the apex of the vault of the nave. It is true it can be seen in

perspective from the floor of the church, but the arrangement appears to

have been expressly designed to make the church look low and out of

proportion.

The spiral staircases at the angles of the spire are marvels of

workmanship, and the whole is well calculated to excite the wonder of

the vulgar, though it must be condemned by the man of taste as very

inferior in every respect to the purer designs of an earlier age.

It is not known whether the original design comprised two towers, like

those of the great French cathedrals, or was intended to terminate with

a flat screen-like façade. Probably the latter was the case, as mass,

and not proportion, seems to have been this architect’s idea of

magnificence.

The spire that now crowns this front, rising to a height of 468 ft. from

the ground, was not finished till 1439, and betrays all the faults of

its age. The octagonal part is tall and weak in outline, the spire

ungraceful in form and covered with an unmeaning and constructively

useless system of tracery.

Besides the fault of proportion for which the design of Erwin is clearly

blamable, all his work betrays the want of artistic feeling which is

characteristic of the German mason. Every detail of the lower part of

the front is wire-drawn and attenuated. The defect of putting a second

line of unsymmetrical tracery in front of windows, the first trace of

which was remarked upon in speaking of Gelnhausen, is here carried to a

painful extent. The long stone bars which protect and hide the windows

are admirable specimens of masonry, but they are no more beauties than

those which protect our kitchen windows in modern times. The spreading

the tracery of the windows over the neighbouring walls, so as to make it

look large and uniform, is another solecism found both here and at

Cologne, utterly unworthy of the art, and not found in, I believe, a

single instance in France and England, where the style was so much

better understood than in Germany.

Altogether the façade of the cathedral at Strasburg is imposing from its

mass, and fascinating from its richness; but there is no building in

either France or England where such great advantages have been thrown

away in so reckless a manner and by so unintelligent a hand.

The cathedral at Ratisbon is a far more satisfactory specimen of German

art than that of Strasburg. It is a small building, only 272 ft. in

length, and 114 in breadth internally, and covering about 32,000 sq. ft.

It was commenced in the year 1275; the works were continued for more

than two centuries, and at last abandoned before the completion of the

church.

As will be seen from the plan (Woodcut No. 751), it is much more German

than French in its arrangements, having three apses instead of a chevet.

The side-aisles are wide in proportion to the central one, the transept

subdued, and altogether it is more like the old round-arched Gothic

basilica than the French church. It has two storeys of windows in the

apse, as at Marburg, where the arrangement is unmeaning and offensive,

while here the nave has side-aisles and a clerestory: thus the upper

windows of the apse are a continuation of the clerestory windows of the

nave, and the effect is not unpleasing. The details of this church are

singularly pleasing and elegant throughout, and produce on the whole a

harmony not commonly met with in German churches of this age and style.

[Illustration: 751. Plan of Ratisbon Cathedral. Scale 100 ft. to 1 in.]

If size were any real test of beauty, the cathedral at Ulm ought to be

one of the finest in Germany, being just twice as large as that at

Ratisbon, covering 63,800 sq. ft. So far also as constructive merit is

concerned, it is perhaps the best; for though I have no plan I can quite

rely upon, I believe that not more than one-fifteenth of the area is

occupied by the supports; nor is this church surpassed by many in sharp

and clever mechanical execution of the details. With all this it would

be difficult to find a colder and more unimpressive design than is here

carried out; both internally and externally, it is the work of a very

clever mason, but of a singularly bad artist. The freemasons had, when

it was founded (1377), got possession of the art in Germany; and here

they carried their system to its acmé, and with a result which every one

with the smallest appreciation of art can perceive at once. It is said

that, in the original design, the outer range of pillars, dividing the

side-aisle into two, was to have been omitted, which would have made it

even worse than it is. Its one western tower, now that it is completed,

is perhaps more beautiful than that at Strasburg; and, besides, being

actually higher (529 ft.), appears taller from standing alone. Its form,

too, is more pleasing; and, though its details are far more suited for

execution in cast iron than in stone, rivals, and perhaps even

surpasses, those at Antwerp or Mechlin.

[Illustration: 752. View of the Spire of St. Stephen’s, Vienna. (From

‘Chiesi Principali d’Europa.’)]

St. Stephen’s of Vienna (Woodcut No. 752), ranks fourth or fifth among

the great churches of Germany, both for size and richness of decoration.

Its length, internally, is 337 ft., its width 115, and it covers about

52,000 square ft. It is situated too near the eastern edge of the

province for us to expect anything very pure or perfect as an example of

Gothic art, and it certainly sins against every canon that a purist

would enact. The three aisles are nearly equal in width and height,—

there is no clerestory—no triforium. There are two very tall windows in

each bay. The pillars are covered with sculpture, more remarkable for

its richness than its appropriateness, and the tracery of the vaults is

very defective. Yet, with all these faults, and many more, no one with a

trace of poetry in his composition can stand under the great cavernous

western porch and not feel that he has before him one of the most

beautiful and impressive buildings in Europe. A good deal of this may be

owing to the colour. The time-stain in the nave is untouched, the

painted glass perfect, and the whole has a venerable look, now too rare.

The choir is being smartened up, and its poetry is gone. Meanwhile, no

building can stand in more absolute contrast with the cathedral at

Cologne than this one at Vienna. The former fails because it is so

coldly perfect that it interests no one; this impresses, though

offending against all rules, because it was designed by a poet. We feel

as if the Rhenish architect would certainly have been Senior Wrangler at

Cambridge had he tried, but that his Danubian brother was fit to be

Laureate at any court in Germany.

It is the same with the exterior. The one great roof running over the

three aisles, and covering all up like an extinguisher, ought to be

abominable, but it gives a character to the whole that one would be

sorry to miss, and is not out of harmony with the exceptional character

of the whole building. The great glory of this church consists in its

two spires, one of which is finished, the other only carried up to about

one-third of its intended height. Their position is unfortunate, as they

are placed where the transepts should be, so that they neither form a

façade nor dignify the sanctuary; they occupy, in fact, the position of

the lateral entrances which the Germans were so fond of, and are the

principal portals of the building. In itself, however, the finished

spire is the richest, and, excepting that at Freiburg, perhaps the most

beautiful of all those in Germany. Its total height, exclusive of the

eagle, is 441 ft., rising from a base about 64 ft. square, gradually

sloping from the ground to the summit, where it forms a cone of the

unprecedently small angle of little more than 9 degrees. The transition

from the square base to an octagonal cone is so gradual and so concealed

by ornament, that it is difficult to say where the tower ends and the

spire begins. This gives a confusion and weakness to the design by no

means pleasing. Indeed the whole may be taken as an exemplification of

all the German principles of design carried to excess, rather than as a

perfect example of what such an object should be. It deserves to be

remarked that there is no open work in the spire, though, from its own

tenuity and the richness of the tower, there is no example where it

would have been less objectionable.

Had the architects of Eastern Germany continued to practise the style a

little longer before the introduction of the Renaissance art, it is

probable they would have gone further from the French forms than they

did even in St. Stephen’s. Among the novelties they did employ, one of

the most remarkable was the invention of flat-roofed choirs. The plan of

the Franciscan church at Salzburg (Woodcut No. 753) will explain what is

meant by this.[392] The nave of the church is a very beautiful example

of the round-arched style, so pure and elegant in its details as to

betray its proximity to Italy, and without a trace of pointed

architecture, though dating as late as 1230-1260. In the year 1470 it

was determined to rebuild the choir. In France this would have been

effected by an extended range of chapels round a chevet; in England by

several bays added to the length. In Germany they did better: they

placed five slender piers on the floor: these, though 70 ft. in height,

are less than 4 ft. in diameter, yet they appear sufficient for the task

they have to perform, while their slenderness prevents them from

interrupting the view in any direction. From these rose a vault,

extending on the same level from wall to wall with a tree-like growth,

from each of these pillars—without any exertion or constructive

difficulty; the choir thus forms a hall 66 ft. wide by 160 in length,

exclusive of the side-chapels which surround it in two storeys. A dome

in that position might have been more sublime; but passing through the

confined vestibule of the nave the expansion into the light and airy

choir produces one of the most magical effects to be found in any church

in Europe. The details of the vault, as is only too usual at that age,

are not constructively correct; but if this design had been carried out

with English fan-tracery nothing could well be more beautiful. In plan

and dimensions this choir very nearly resembles Henry VII.’s Chapel at

Westminster; but in design the German surpasses the English example to a

greater extent than it falls short of it in beauty of detail.

[Illustration: 753. Plan of the Franciscan Church at Salzburg.]

St. Lawrence’s Church at Nuremberg is a larger and better known example

of the same class of design. It was commenced in 1275, and finished

after 202 years’ labour. The style of this church is consequently much

more uniform; and though not large, being only 300 ft. long by 100 in

width, its proportions are so good that it is a very beautiful and

impressive example of the style. It is a little too late in its details,

but beautiful in its arrangements. The view, standing by the pulpit and

looking towards the east, is as poetic as that of St. Stephen’s, and as

spacious as at Salzburg. The two rows of windows round the apse are a

defect that might easily have been avoided, but which the beauty of the

painted glass goes far to redeem.

Externally, the western front, though on a small scale, only 250 ft. in

height, is better proportioned and more pleasing in its detail than

almost any other double-spire façade in Germany that can be named. The

real defect of the exterior is the overwhelming roof of the nave and the

want of external buttresses, which, with bold pinnacles, would have gone

far to correct its heaviness.

[Illustration: 754. Plan of St. Lawrence’s Church, Nuremberg.]

St. Sebald’s Church at Nuremberg seems originally to have been a chevet

turned the wrong way, to the eastern end of which a choir of somewhat

exaggerated dimensions was added at a later age (1303-1377). This choir

was not only placed unsymmetrically as regards the axis of the older

part, but also as regards its own parts. It is, however, lofty and airy,

with the same arrangement as to vaulting as the two last examples, but,

being lighted by a single row of tall windows, it avoids the defect of

the two-storeyed arrangement. These windows are 50 ft. high, and barely

8 ft. in width, which is far too narrow in proportion. Their mullions

are nearly 40 ft. in height; and, though triumphs of German masonic

skill, are most unpleasing features of architectural design.

[Illustration: 755. Plan of the Church at Kuttenberg, taken above the

roof of the aisles. Scale 100 ft. to 1 in.]

When the Germans had once mastered this invention in vaulting they

applied it wherever an opportunity presented itself, and in one instance

at least, to a five-aisled basilica. It is true the church of St.

Barbara at Kuttenberg,[393] in Bohemia, is only a fragment, but it is a

very remarkable one. The building was apparently commenced about the

year 1358, and completed, as far as we now see it, in 1548. Its

dimensions are smaller than those of Cologne, being only 126 ft. across

its five aisles instead of 150; but its great peculiarity is that the

roof of the first aisle next the central one on each side is converted

into a great gallery, as shown in the section (Woodcut No. 756), and the

vault carried flat above the three. To a certain extent this prevents

the clerestory windows from being so easily seen from all parts of the

floor of the church, but when seen it is at a better angle; and,

altogether, a play of light and shade and a poetry of effect is

introduced which more than compensates for this. The double apse may be

the most characteristic feature of German Mediæval churches, but this

seems to be the highest and most poetic of their inventions.

[Illustration: 756. Section of the Church of St. Barbara, Kuttenberg.

Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.]

The church of St. Veit at Prague is very similar to that at Kuttenberg.

It was commenced about the year 1346, and, like it, was meant to imitate

and rival Cologne. Its proportions, however, are better, being only 105

ft. high, internally, with a width of 130 ft., but its details, as might

be expected from its date, are very far inferior to those of its

northern rival. Like Kuttenberg, it is now only a choir—a fragment of

what was intended; and it neither possesses the poetry of its Bohemian

rival, nor the perfect masonry of Cologne, and perhaps more resembles

Beauvais than any other church of its age.

In Bavaria there are several churches erected later in the style, which,

in spite of many defects of detail, are still very imposing edifices.

The cathedral at Munich is a well-known example of this style, but a

better specimen is the St. Martin’s church at Landshut (1404). As in

almost all these examples, the three aisles are the same height, and

outside are covered by one gigantic roof. Internally this gives great

spaciousness, but externally the exaggerated height of the windows and

the size of the roof are great defects. The most beautiful feature at

Landshut is the spire, which rises to the height of 425 ft., and is as

gracefully and appropriately designed as any other which has been

completed in Germany of its age. Though not so rich as St. Stephen’s at

Vienna, it has not its confusion of outline, and it also avoids the

somewhat ambiguous beauties of the open-work spires so frequent in this

country.

In adopting the pointed-arched style, the Germans generally abandoned

their favourite double-apse arrangement; and though they seldom adopted

the whole of the chevet, preferring their own simple apse to it, it

seems to have been only, or at least generally, where an old round

Gothic double-apse church existed previously, that this arrangement was

continued after the commencement of the 13th century. Naumburg, the nave

of which was commenced about the year 1200, is an instance of this. This

was no doubt inserted between two older apses, both of which were

rebuilt at a later age, forming two very beautiful and extensive choirs.

The whole makes a very pleasing and interesting church, though there

certainly is an architectural incongruity in entering by the side, and

the double-apse arrangement is unfamiliar and nearly unintelligible to

us at the present time.

A still better example is the cathedral at Bamberg, which, judging from

its date, ought to be in the complete pointed style. Though its east end

dates from 1220, and the west 1257, it is still so completely

transitional, and the pointed form so timidly used, that in France it

would certainly be said that there was a mistake of at least a century

in these dates. It is nevertheless a very fine church; and its four

elegant towers flanking the two apses give it a local and at the same

time a dignified character which we often miss in the imitations of

French churches, too common at this age. At Naumburg unfortunately only

three towers exist, the fourth never having been erected, which

considerably mars the effect when comparing it with the more complete

edifice at Bamberg.

Augsburg is another example of this class; although of good age, the

rebuilding having commenced in 1366, it is one of the ugliest and

worst-designed buildings in Germany, with nothing but its size to redeem

it. It is peculiar in having a chevet at one end and an apse at the

other.

The principles of the French schools of art seem to have prevailed to a

much greater extent in the North of Germany, and we have in consequence

several churches of more pleasing design than those last mentioned.

Among these is the cathedral at Halberstadt, a simple but beautiful

church, not remarkable for any very striking peculiarities, but

extremely satisfactory in general effect. The great church, too, at

Xanten may be quoted as another very favourable specimen, though far

more essentially German in its arrangement. The western front is older

than the rest, and is German, wholly without French influence. It has no

central entrance, but has two bold massive towers. The church behind

these is of the latter part of the 13th and the 14th centuries. It is

generally good in detail and proportion, but is arranged, as seen in the

plan, in a manner wholly different from the French method, though in a

form common in all parts of Germany. The polygonal form is retained both

for the apse and for the chapels, but without adopting the chevet with

its surrounding aisle, nor the absolute seclusion of the choir as a

priestly island round which the laity might circulate, but within whose

sacred precincts they were not permitted to enter. It is observable that

in those districts where chevets are most frequent, generally speaking,

the Catholic religion has had the firmest hold. On the other hand, where

the people had declined to adopt that arrangement, it was a sign that

they were ripe for the Reformation, which accordingly they embraced as

soon as the standard of rebellion was raised.

[Illustration: 757. Plan of Church of St. Victor at Xanten. Scale 100

ft. to 1 in.]

In the South of Germany we have already had occasion to remark on the

tendency to raise the side-aisles to the same height as the central one,

which eventually became the rule in the great brick churches of Munich

and other parts of Bavaria, the piers or pillars becoming mere posts

supporting what was practically a horizontal roof. In the north the

tendency seems to have been the other way—to exaggerate the clerestory

at the expense of the aisles. A notable example of this is found in the

nave at Magdeburg, where the side-aisles are practically little more

than one-third of the whole height of the church; and there being no

triforium, the clerestory windows rest apparently on the vault of the

side-aisle. This has now no doubt a disagreeable effect, but when filled

with painted glass the case must have been different, and the effect of

this immense screen of brilliant colours must have been most beautiful.

A better example of this arrangement is found in the cathedral at Metz,

where, from its proximity to France, the whole style was better

understood, and the details are consequently more perfect. Externally,

it must be confessed, the immense height of the clerestory gives to the

church a wire-drawn appearance, very destructive of architectural

beauty; but internally, partly from the effect of perspective and partly

from the brilliancy of such glass as remains, criticism is disarmed. The

result, however contrary to the rules of art, is most fascinating; and

at all events, though an error, it is in a far more pleasing direction

than that of the southern architects.

These may perhaps be considered the great and typical examples of the

pointed style as applied to church architecture in Germany; but besides

these there are numerous examples scattered all over the country, many

of which, as being less directly under French influence, display an

originality of design, and sometimes a beauty, not to be found in the

larger examples.

Among these is the Cathedral of St. George at Limburg on the Lahn. This

building belongs to the early part of the 13th century, and exhibits the

transitional style in its greatest purity, and with less admixture of

foreign taste than is to be found in almost any subsequent examples.

Though measuring only about 180 ft. by 75, it has, from its crown of

towers and general design, a more imposing appearance externally than

many buildings of far larger dimensions. The interior is also singularly

impressive.

The church of St. Emmeran at Ratisbon, a square building of about the

same age and style, is chiefly remarkable for the extensive series of

galleries which surround the whole of the interior, being in fact the

application of the system of double chapels (see p. 241) to a parish

church; not that vaulted galleries are at all rare in Germany, but that

generally speaking they are insertions; though here they seem part of

the original design.

At Schulpforta in Saxony there is a very elegant church of the best age,

and both in design and detail very different from anything else in

Germany. Its immense relative length gives it a perspective rarely found

in this country, where squareness is a much more common characteristic.

At Oppenheim, in the Bavarian Rhenish Palatinate, is a church the choir

of which is a simple and pleasing German apse with elongated windows.

The nave, four bays in length, is an elaborate specimen of German

ornamentation in its utmost extravagance, and, considering its age, in

singularly bad taste, at least the lower part. The clerestory is

unobjectionable, but the tracery of the windows and walls of the

side-aisles shows how ingeniously it was possible to misapply even the

beautiful details of the early part of the 14th century. In St. Werner’s

Chapel, Bacharach, on the Rhine, this is avoided, and, as far as can be

judged from the fragment that remains, it must, if it ever was

completed, have been one of the best specimens of German art in that

part of the country. The nave of the cathedral at Meissen, though marked

by many of the faults of German design, is still a beautiful example of

well-understood detail.

[Illustration: 758. View of Maria Kirche at Mühlhausen. (From Puttrich,

‘Denkmäler.’)]

[Illustration: 759. Plan of Maria Kirche at Mühlhausen. Scale 100 ft. to

1 in.]

As a purely German design nothing can surpass the Maria Kirche at

Mühlhausen (Woodcut No. 759). The nave is nearly square, 87 ft. by 105,

and is divided into five aisles by four rows of pillars supporting the

vaults, all at the same level. To the west is a triple frontispiece, and

to the east (Woodcut No. 759) the three apses, which form so favourite

an arrangement with the Germans. Externally its attenuation is painful

to one accustomed to the more sober work of French architects; but this

fault is here not carried to anything like the excess found in other

churches. Internally the effect is certainly pleasing, and altogether

there are perhaps few better specimens of purely German design in

pointed architecture. The church of St. Blasius, in the same town, is

far from being so good an example of the style.

The cathedral at Erfurt is a highly ornamented building, but though

possessing beautiful details in parts, yet it shows the slenderness of

construction which is so frequent a fault in German Gothic buildings.

The church of St. Severus in the same town resembles that at Mühlhausen,

but possesses so characteristic a group of three spires[394] over what

we would consider the transept—or just in front of the apse—that it is

illustrated (Woodcut No. 760). It certainly looks like a direct lineal

descendant from the old Roman basilican apse grown into Gothic tallness.

Though common in Germany, placed either here or at the west front, I do

not know of any single example of such an arrangement either in France

or England.

[Illustration: 760. St. Severus Church at Erfurt. (From Puttrich,

‘Denkmäler.’)]

To the same class of square churches with slightly projecting chancels

belongs the Frauen Kirche at Nuremberg, one of the most ornate of its

kind, and possessing also in its triangularly formed porch another

peculiarity found only in Germany. The principal entrances to the

cathedrals of Ratisbon and Erfurt are of this description—the latter

being the richest and boldest porch of the kind.

One of the best known examples of the daring degree of attenuation to

which the Germans delighted to carry their works is the choir (Woodcut

No. 724) added in 1353 and 1413 to the old circular church of

Charlemagne at Aix-la-Chapelle. As we now see it, the effect is

certainly unpleasing; but if these tall windows were filled with painted

glass, and the walls and vaults coloured also, the effect would be

widely different. Perhaps it might then be even called beautiful; but

with scarcely a single exception all those churches are now deprived of

this most indispensable part of their architecture, and, instead of

being the principal part of the design, the windows are now only long

slits in the masonry, giving an appearance of weakness without adding to

the beauty or richness of the ornament.

The same remarks apply to the Nicholai Kirche at Zerbst, and the Petri

Kirche at Gorlitz, both splendid specimens of this late exaggerated

class of German art. By colour they might be restored, but as seen now

in the full glare of the cold daylight they want almost every requisite

of true art, and neither their size nor their constructive skill

suffices to redeem them from the reproach.

CHAPTER VI.

CONTENTS.

Circular Churches—Church Furniture—Civil Architecture.

CIRCULAR CHURCHES.

IN adopting the pointed style, the Germans almost wholly abandoned their

old favourite circular form; the Liebfrauen Church at Trèves (Woodcut

No. 695) being almost the only really important example of a church in

the style approaching to a rotunda. Chapter-houses are as rare in

Germany as in France, and those that are found are not generally

circular in either country. There is a baptistery attached to the

cathedral at Meissen, and one or two other insignificant examples

elsewhere; but the most pleasing object of this class is the Anna

Chapel, attached to the principal church at Heiligenstadt. It is said

that it always was dedicated to the sainted mother of the Virgin, but it

would require more than tradition to prove that it was not originally

designed as a baptistery or a tomb-house. Be this as it may, it is one

of the most pleasing specimens of its class anywhere to be found, and so

elegant as to make us regret the rarity of such structures.

[Illustration: 761. Anna Chapel at Heiligenstadt. (From Puttrich,

‘Denkmäler.’)]

CHURCH FURNITURE.

The churches of Germany are not generally rich in architectural

furniture. Few rood-lofts are found spanning from pillar to pillar of

the choir like that at the Madeleine of Troyes (Woodcut No. 669); and

though some of the screens that separate the choirs of the churches are

rich, they are seldom of good design. The two at Naumburg are perhaps as

good as any of their class in Germany. Generally they were used as the

_lectorium_—virtually the pulpit—of the churches. In most instances,

however, the detached pulpit in the nave was substituted for these, and

there are numerous examples of richly-carved pulpits, but none of

beautiful design. In most instances they are overloaded with ornament,

and many of them disfigured with quirks and quibbles, and all the

vagaries of later German art.

The fonts are seldom good or deserving of attention, and the original

altars have almost all been removed, either from having fallen to decay,

or to make way for some more favourite arrangement of modern times.

The “Sacraments Häuschen” (the receptacle for the sacred elements of the

Communion) is a peculiar article of furniture frequently found in German

churches, and in some of those of Belgium, though very rare in France

and unknown in England, but on which the German artists seem to have

lavished more pains than on almost any other article of church

decoration. Those in St. Lawrence’s Church at Nuremberg and at Ulm are

perhaps the most extraordinary pieces of elaborate architecture ever

executed in stone, and have always been looked on by the Germans as

chefs-d’œuvre of art. Had they been able, they would have delighted in

introducing the same extravagances into external art: fortunately the

elements forced them to confine them to their interiors. Nothing,

however, can show more clearly what was the tendency of their art, and

to what they aspired, than these singular erections, which,

notwithstanding their absurdity, considering their materials, must

excite our wonder, like the concentric balls of the Chinese. To some

extent also they claim our admiration for the lightness and the elegance

of their structure. Simplicity is not the characteristic of the German

mind. A difficulty conquered is what it glories in, and patient toil is

not a means only, but an end, and its expression often excites in

Germany more admiration than either loftier or purer art.

[Illustration: 762. Sacraments Häuschen at Nuremberg. (From Chapuy.)]

[Illustration: 763. Doorway of Church at Chemnitz.]

It can scarcely be doubted but that much of the extravagance which we

find in later German architecture arose from the reaction of the

glass-painters on the builders. When first painted glass was extensively

introduced, the figures were grouped or separated by architectural

details, such as niches or canopies, copied literally from the stone

ornaments of the building itself. Before long, however, the painter, in

Germany at least, spurned at being tied down to copy such mechanical and

constructive exigencies; he attenuated his columns, bent and twisted his

pinnacles, drew out his canopies, and soon invented for himself an

architecture bearing the same relation to the stone Gothic around him

that the architecture shown on the paintings of Pompeii bears to the

temples and buildings from which it is derived. In Germany, painters and

builders alike were striving after lightness, but in this the painter

was enabled by his material easily to outstrip the mason. The

essentially stone character of architecture was soon lost sight of. With

the painter, the finials, the crockets, and the foliage of the capitals

again became copies of leaves, instead of the conventional

representations of nature which they are and must be in all true art.

Like Sir James Hall in modern times, the speculative mind in Germany was

not long, when advanced thus far, in suggesting a vegetable theory for

the whole art. All these steps are easily to be traced in the sequence

of German painted glass still preserved to us. The more extravagant and

intricate the design, the more it was admired by the Germans. It was,

therefore, only natural that the masons should strive after the same

standard, and should try to realise in stone the ideas which the

painters had so successfully started on the plain surface of the glass.

The difficulty of the task was an incentive. Almost all the absurdities

of the later styles may be traced more or less to this source, and were

it worth while, or were this the place, it would be easy to trace the

gradual decay of true art from this cause. One example, taken from the

church at Chemnitz (Woodcut No. 763), must suffice, where what was

usual, perhaps admissible, in glass, is represented in stone as

literally as is conceivable. When art came to this, its revival was

impossible among a people with whom such absurdities could be admired,

as their frequency proves to have been the case. What a fall does all

this show in that people who invented the old Round-Gothic style of the

Rhenish and Lombard churches, which still excite our admiration, as much

from the simple majesty of their details as from the imposing grandeur

of their whole design!

CIVIL ARCHITECTURE.

If the Germans failed in adapting the pointed style of architecture to

the simple forms and purposes of ecclesiastical buildings, they were

still less likely to be successful when dealing with the more

complicated arrangements of civil buildings. It is seldom difficult to

impart a certain amount of architectural character and magnificence to a

single hall, especially when the dimensions are considerable, the

materials good, and a certain amount of decoration admitted; but in

grouping together as a whole a number of small apartments, to be applied

to various uses, it requires great judgment to ensure that every part

shall express its own purpose, and good taste to prevent the whole

degenerating into a mere collection of disjointed fragments. These

qualities the Germans of that age did not possess. Moreover, there seems

to have been singularly little demand for civil edifices in the 13th and

14th centuries. It is probable that the free cities were not organised

to the same extent as in Belgium, or had not the same amount of

manufacturing industry that gave rise to the erection of the great halls

in that country; for, with the exception of the Kauf Haus at Mayence, no

example has come down to our days that can be said to be remarkable for

architectural design. Even this no longer exists, having been pulled

down in 1812. It was but a small building, 125 ft. in length by 92 in

width at one end, and 75 at the other. It was built in the best time of

German pointed architecture, and was a pleasing specimen of its class.

At Cologne there is a sort of Guildhall, the Gürzenich, and a tower-like

fragment of a town-hall, both built in the best age of architecture; and

in some of the other Rhenish towns there are fragments of art more or

less beautiful according to the age of their details, but none that will

bear comparison with the Belgian edifices of the same class.

Some of the castles in which the feudal aristocracy of the day resided

are certainly fine and picturesque buildings, but they are seldom

remarkable for architectural beauty either of design or detail. The same

remarks apply to the domestic residences. Many of the old high-gabled

houses in the streets are most elaborately ornamented, and produce

picturesque combinations in themselves and with one another; but as

works of art, few have any claims to notice, and neither in form nor

detail are they worthy of admiration.

[Illustration: 764. Schöne Brunnen at Nuremberg. (From Chapuy.)]

Among more miscellaneous monuments may be named the weigh-tower at

Andernach, with its immense crane, showing how any object may be made

architectural if designed with taste. The Schöne Brunnen, or “Beautiful

Fountains,” in the market-place at Nuremberg, is one of the most

unexceptionable pieces of German design in existence. It much resembles

the contemporary crosses erected by our Edward I. to the memory of his

beloved queen Eleanor, but it is larger and taller, the sculpture

better, and better disposed, and the whole design perhaps unrivalled

among monuments of its class. The lightness of the upper part and the

breadth of the basin at its base give an appearance of stability which

contributes greatly to its effect.

Scarcely less elegant than this is the cross or “Todtenleuchter,”

Lanterne des Morts, in the cemetery of Kloster Neuberg, near Vienna. Its

height is about 30 ft.; the date engraved upon it is 1381. There is a

small door at a height of about 5 ft. from the ground, and near the

summit a chamber with six glazed windows, in which the light was

exhibited.

[Illustration: 765. Todtenleuchter at Kloster Neuberg.]

In France, some ten or twelve of these lanterns have recently been

brought to light and described. In Germany about as many, besides

numberless little niches in which lamps were placed in churches, showing

a prevalence in Christian countries of a custom which now only prevails

among Mahomedans, of placing lights at night in the tombs of saints or

of relatives, so long as their memory is preserved. Perhaps, however,

the greatest point of interest attached to their investigation arises

from the light these foreign examples may be expected to throw on the

origin of the Round Towers in Ireland. Their form is not unlike this at

Kloster Neuberg. Their destination seems the same, though the dimensions

of the Irish towers are greatly in excess of any similar monuments found

on the continent of Europe.[395]

[Illustration: 766. Bay Window from St. Sebald’s Parsonage, Nuremberg.]

In the town of Nuremberg are several houses presenting very elegant

specimens of art in their details, though few that now at least afford

examples of complete designs worthy of attention. The two parsonages or

residences attached to the churches of St. Sebald and St. Lawrence are

among the best. The bay window (Woodcut No. 766) from the façade of the

former is as pleasing a feature as is to be found of its class in any

part of Germany.

A more characteristic specimen, however, is to be seen at Brück on the

Mur, in Styria, where there still exists a large house, the front of

which is ornamented with a verandah in several bays, one of which is

represented in the annexed woodcut No. 767. It is in two storeys, the

upper containing twice the number of openings of the lower. The whole

design is singularly elegant, but betrays the lateness of the date

(1505) in every detail; and, more than this, exhibits those peculiarly

German features which are so characteristic of the later Gothic in that

country. In the lower storey, for instance, the ogee arch instead of

being filled up with a decorative piece of construction, is made

circular by a plain piece of stone, which completes the construction but

violates the decoration. Above this we have a balustrade in stone,

imitating wood in a manner the Germans were so fond of, but which is

certainly wrong in principle, as it is in taste; but notwithstanding

these defects, we cannot but regret that more examples of the same class

have not come down to our time.

[Illustration: 767. Façade of House at Brück-am-Mur.]

The town-hall at Brunswick (Woodcut No. 768) is one of the most

picturesque and characteristic of these buildings, and perhaps also the

most artistic. It is difficult, however, to reconcile our feelings to

the light arch supporting the tracery of the upper part of the upper

gallery. If the four mullions had been brought down, they would not have

impeded either light or air to an appreciable extent, and if more space

had been wanted for addressing people in the platz, the omission of the

central mullion would have sufficed. Notwithstanding this, it is a

picturesque and appropriate building, more so than any other known out

of the Flandrian province. The fountain, too, on the right hand of the

cut, is a pleasing specimen of its class; a little heavier at the base

than quite comports with the style, though that is a fault quite on the

right side.

[Illustration: 768. Town-hall at Brunswick. (From Rosengarten.)]

It is true that in all countries the specimens of domestic art are, from

obvious causes, more liable to alteration and destruction than works of

a more monumental class. Making every allowance for this, Germany still

seems more deficient than its neighbouring countries in domestic

architecture in the pointed style, and one can hardly escape the

conviction that this form was never thoroughly adopted by the people of

this country, and that it therefore, never having had much hold on their

feelings or taste, died out early, leaving only some wonderful specimens

of masonic skill in the more monumental buildings, but very few

evidences of true art or of sound knowledge of the true principles of

architectural effect.

CHAPTER VII.

NORTHERN GERMANY.

(BALTIC PROVINCES.)

BRICK ARCHITECTURE.

CONTENTS.

Churches at Lubeck—in Brandenburg—in Ermenland—Castle at Marienburg.

ALONG the whole of the southern shores of the Baltic extends a vast

series of sandy plains, now composing the greater part of the kingdom of

Prussia, with Hanover and Mecklenburg and the duchies of Brandenburg and

Brunswick. This district was to a considerable extent cultivated during

the Middle Ages, and contained several cities of great commercial and

political importance, which still retain many of their ecclesiastical

and civil buildings.

These plains are almost wholly destitute of any stone suitable for

building purposes, and brick has alone been employed in the erection not

only of their houses, but of their churches and most monumental

buildings. This circumstance has induced such a variation in the

character of the architecture as to justify the Baltic provinces being

treated separately. The differences which are apparent may also be owing

to some extent to ethnographic differences of race, though it is not

easy to say how much may be owing to this cause. In early Christian

times the whole province was inhabited by the Wends, a race of Sclavonic

stock; they have been superseded by the Teutonic races and their

language has disappeared, but their blood must still remain, and a

knowledge of this fact would at once account to an ethnologist for the

absence of art. A Teutonic race, based on a Celtic substratum, would

have wrought beauty out of bricks, and the constructive difficulties

would not have prevented the development of the art. But a Teutonic

formation overlying a Sclavonic base is about as unfortunate a

combination for architectural development as can well be conceived.

This, added to the deficiency of stone as a building material, will more

than suffice to account for the special treatment we meet with on the

southern shores of the Baltic.

[Illustration: 769. Plan of Cathedral, Lubeck. (From Schlösser and

Tischbein, ‘Denkmäle Lubeck.’) Scale 100 ft. to 1 in.]

It is true that in the hands of a refined and art-loving people like the

inhabitants of the north of Italy, brick architecture may be made to

possess a considerable amount of beauty. Burnt clay may be moulded into

shapes as elegant, and as artistic as can be carved in stone; and the

various colours which it is easy to impart to bricks may be used to form

mosaics of the most beautiful patterns; but to carry out all this with

success requires a genuine love of art, and an energy in the prosecution

of it, which will not easily be satisfied. Without this the facilities

of brick architecture are such that it can be executed by the commonest

workman, and is best done in the least artistic forms. While this is the

case, it requires a very strong feeling for art to induce anyone to

bestow thought where it is not needed, and to interrupt construction to

seek for forms of beauty. In brick architecture, the best walls are

those with the fewest breaks and projections, so that if relief and

shadow are to be obtained, they must be added for their own sake; and

more than this, walls may be built so thin that they must always appear

weak as compared with stone walls, and depth of relief becomes almost

impossible.

Another defect is, that a brick building almost inevitably suggests a

plaster finishing internally; and every one knows how easy it is to

repeat by casting the same ornaments over and over again, and to apply

such ornaments anywhere and in any way without the least reference to

construction or propriety.

All these temptations may of course be avoided. They were so at Granada

by the Saracens, who loved art for its own sake. They were to a

considerable extent avoided in the valley of the Po, though by a people

far less essentially art-loving than the Moors. But it will easily be

supposed that this taste and perception of beauty exerted less influence

in the valley of the Elbe. There the public buildings were raised as

simply as the necessities of construction would allow, and ornaments

were applied only to the extent absolutely requisite to save them from

absolute plainness. Thus the churches represent in size the wealth and

population of the cities, and were built in the style of Gothic

architecture which prevailed at the time of their erection; but it is in

vain to look in them for any of the beauties of the stone Gothic

buildings of the same period, though the variety which they gave to

their moulded brickwork, and the dexterity with which they treated it,

imparted a character to it which is not without its interest.

[Illustration: 770. Plan of Marien Kirche, Lubeck. Scale 100 ft. to 1

in.]

The principal group of churches in the district is found at Lubeck,

which was perhaps, in the Middle Ages, the wealthiest town on the shores

of the Baltic. The largest of these is the Dom Kirche or Cathedral

(Woodcut No. 769), a building 427 ft. long over all. The nave is 120 ft.

wide externally. The vaults of the three aisles spring from the same

height, the central one being 70 ft. high, those of the side-aisles a

little less. This, with the wide spacing of the piers, gives a poor and

bare look to the interior. The choir is better, showing a certain amount

of variety about the chevet; but even this is leaner than in any stone

building, and displays all the poverty so characteristic of the style.

The Marien Kirche is a more favourable specimen of its class, though not

so large. It is of a somewhat earlier age, and is built more in

accordance with the principles of Gothic design. The central aisle is

130 ft. high; the side-aisles only half as much. This allows space for a

very splendid clerestory, which, if filled with stained glass, would

redeem the flatness of the mouldings and the general poverty of the

architecture of the interior.

[Illustration: 771. View of Marien Kirche, Lubeck. (From Schlösser and

Tischbein.)]

The church of St. Catherine is smaller than either of these, though of

about the same age as that last mentioned, and of as good a design. It

possesses the somewhat curious peculiarity of having a double choir one

above the other like that of St. Gereon at Cologne (Woodcut No. 740),

but more complete and extensive than in that example. The whole of the

lower choir is vaulted over, and a second, at a height of 20 ft., forms

an upper choir over its whole extent.

There are several smaller churches in Lubeck, none of which show any

peculiarities not found in the larger. The same faults which

characterise the interior of these churches are also found in the

exterior. The Marien Kirche (Woodcut No. 771) is the best of them in

this respect, but though its outline is good, it is far from being a

pleasing specimen of architecture. Its two western towers are of the

form typical in Lubeck. They are just 400 English ft. in height, and

with these dimensions ought to be imposing objects, but they certainly

are not so, being in fact as bad specimens as could be of Gothic towers.

As usual in Germany, there is no door at the west end of any of these

churches, and the principal entrances are in all cases lateral; one of

those attached to the cathedral is an elaborate and beautiful piece of

stone architecture, but it is the only one apparently that is at all

remarkable.

Some of the rood-screens are covered with carving, and the tabernacles,

or receptacles for the holy elements, are, as in most parts of Germany,

elaborately ornamented. They are nearly of the same age and of the same

style as those at Nuremberg, one of which is represented in Woodcut No.

762.

Dantzic possesses several large churches very similar, both in style and

arrangement, to those of Lubeck. The principal of these is the

cathedral, or Marien Kirche, commenced in its present form in 1343, and

completed in the year 1502. It is 316 ft. long and 105 in width, with a

transept extending to 206 ft. The whole area of the church is about

42,000 sq. ft., so that though not among the largest, it may still be

considered as a first-class church; and, being of a good age, it is as

effective in design as any of the brick churches of the province. It has

one tower at the west end 230 ft. in height.

[Illustration: 772. Tower in the Kœblinger Strasse, Hanover.]

The church of St. Catherine is in part older than the cathedral, having

been founded in 1185, though it was to a great extent rebuilt at a

subsequent period. Its dimensions as it now stands are 210 ft. long, and

120 ft. wide over all. Neither it nor any of the other churches of the

town seem to have any remarkable feature of design or construction

worthy of being alluded to.

Other churches of less importance but of similar style are found in the

Marien Kirche and St. Nicolas at Stralsund; in the Marien Kirche at

Stargard, which has its west front richly ornamented with moulded-brick

tracery; in the churches of Wismar, in the Marien Kirche at Prenzlau,

where the west gable is the most elaborate in North Germany, and in

other churches in Neu-Brandenburg, Anclam, and other towns.

The form of church tower found in Lüneberg, and indeed generally in the

district, is a modification of that at Paderborn (Woodcut No. 706), and

is well exemplified by that in the Kœblinger Strasse at Hanover (Woodcut

No. 772). It is an honest and purpose-like piece of architecture, but

without much pretension to beauty of design.

[Illustration: 773. Church at Frauenburg. (From Quast, ‘Denkmäler der

Baukunst in Ermeland.’)]

Further east in Ermeland, as Eastern Prussia used to be called, there

are many brick buildings, which from their picturesqueness and the

appropriateness of their form half disarm the critic. Among these, for

instance, such a church as that of Frauenburg (Woodcut No. 773), with

its light graceful spires and its brick tracery in its gables, is an

object, if not of grandeur, at least of considerable beauty in itself,

and in this instance is grouped with so many others as to form a more

picturesque combination than is usually to be met with on the shores of

the Baltic. The church itself is 300 ft. long by 80 in width, and has

three aisles in the nave, of equal height but unequal width. Its worst

defect is in the plainness and bulk of the octagonal piers which support

the vault.

The next illustration, of the church at Santoppen (Woodcut No. 774) is

of a type infinitely more common in Ermeland. In Quast’s work[396] are

some dozen churches varying only slightly from this in design, but in

many the western tower is more like a many-storeyed warehouse than a

building designed either for ornament or any church-like use. They all,

however, possess some character and charm from their novelty, being very

unlike anything found elsewhere.

[Illustration: 774. View of Church at Santoppen. (From Quast.)]

The Marien Church at Brandenburg (Woodcut No. 775) exhibits this style

carried to an excess which renders it almost bizarre. The lower part is

unobjectionable, the ornament around the doors and under the windows

being appropriate and well placed; but the windows themselves are too

plain even in this style, and above this the ornament is neither

constructive nor elegant. The building might be either a dwelling or a

civil building, or anything else, as well as a church, and it is

difficult to find on what principle the design is varied or arranged. In

true Art the motive is apparent at a glance, and should always be so.

At Hamburg, fires, and the improvements consequent on modern activity

and prosperity, have nearly obliterated all the more important buildings

which at one time adorned that city.

[Illustration: 775. Façade of Marien Kirche, Brandenburg. (From

Rosengarten.)]

At Königsberg, at the opposite extremity of the district, there seems to

be little that is remarkable, except a cathedral, possessing an enormous

façade of brickwork, adorned with blank arches, but without the smallest

pretensions to beauty, either internally or externally.

CIVIL BUILDINGS.

[Illustration: 776. Façade of the Knight-hall in the Castle of

Marienburg. (From Rosengarten.)]

The most remarkable among the civil buildings of the province is the

castle at Marienburg, which was for nearly a century and a half the

residence of the masters of the once powerful knights of the Teutonic

order. The Alte Schloss was built in 1276, the middle castle in 1309; so

that it belongs to the best age of Gothic art: and, being half palace,

half castle, ought to possess both dignity and grandeur. It betrays,

however, in every part the faults of brick architecture in this

province, and though curious, is certainly not beautiful. All the

windows are square-headed, though filled with tracery, and the vaultings

of the principal apartments are without grace in themselves, and do not

fit the lines of the openings; even the boldly projecting

machicolations, which in stone architecture give generally such dignity

to castellated buildings, here fail in producing that effect, from the

tenuity of the parts and the weakness of their apparent supports.

The town-hall at Lubeck is imposing from its size, and singular from the

attempt to gain height and grandeur by carrying up the main wall of the

building high above the roof, and where no utilitarian purpose can be

suggested for it. Indeed there are few towns in the province that do not

possess some large civic buildings, but in all instances these are less

artistic than the churches themselves; and, though imposing from their

mass and interesting from their age, they are hardly worthy of notice as

examples of architectural art.

The town of Lüneburg retains not only its public buildings, but its

street architecture, nearly as left from the Middle Ages; and its quaint

gables and strange towers and spires give it a character that is

picturesque and interesting, but cannot be said to be beautiful.

The town-halls of Tangermünde, Rostock, and Stralsund, have façades of

similar style to that of Lubeck. In all these cases as a rule these

façades are mere decorative screens, which, like the churches in Italy,

rise high above the roofs of the main building. The Rathhaus at

Stralsund is surmounted by six lofty gables with large circular openings

in them open to the sky, so that there is no attempt at concealment, the

fact probably being that, proud of their dexterity in the moulding of

the brickwork, and repetition being easy and inexpensive, they were not

content with the small elevation which the height of their buildings

gave them. In this respect the Rathhaus at Hanover is an exception, and

here the decorative features are confined to the gables of the principal

hall and the lofty dormer windows—to deep friezes or bands of

boldly-modelled terra-cotta work—enriched plate tracery in the windows

of the great hall, and (in contrast to the simple brickwork of the two

lower storeys) to elaborate detail in their gables and dormer windows,

which are divided up by vertical buttresses placed anglewise, composed

of five or six semicircular shafts grouped together, and in alternate

bands of yellow and green glazed bricks. The effect of these bright

colours must have been somewhat startling when the buildings were new,

but, in the unrestored portions, their brilliance has been toned down by

time, and their effect is now harmonious and agreeable.

The most interesting series of structures in the Baltic provinces are

the gateways of their towns, which are not only extremely picturesque

objects both in outline and colour, but display great fertility of

invention and variety in form. Among the more important may be noticed

the Holstein Thor and Burg Thor of Lubeck; the two gates at Stendal, and

the four gates of Neu-Brandenburg.

As the examples just enumerated are types of the best buildings which

exist in the province, they are sufficient to characterise the style,

and at the same time to show how much can be done even with the

restriction imposed by the absence of stone. As many of the towns were

populous and wealthy during the Middle Ages, they of course had large

and commodious churches; and although they are wanting in those high

qualities which we find in the French cathedrals, their size and the

excellence of their vaulting render them well worthy of study.

In addition to the buildings above referred to, in many of their towns,

such as Anclam, Lubeck, Dantzic, and others, will be found fine examples

of the pointed style of Hanseatic architecture.

BOOK VI.

CHAPTER I.

SCANDINAVIA.

CONTENTS.

Sweden—Norway—Denmark—Gothland—Round Churches—Wooden Churches.

NO one who has listened to all that was said and written in Germany

before the late war about “Schleswig-Holstein Stamm verwandt,” can very

well doubt that when he passes the Eyder going northward, he will enter

on a new architectural province. He must, however, be singularly

deficient in ethnographical knowledge if he expects to find anything

either original or beautiful in a country inhabited by races of such

purely Aryan stock. If there is any Finnish or Lap blood in the veins of

the Swedes or Danes it must have dried up very early, for no trace of

its effect can be detected in any of their architectural utterances;

unless, indeed, we should ascribe to it that peculiar fondness for

circular forms which is so characteristic of their early churches, and

which may have been derived from the circular mounds and stone circles

which were in use in Sweden till the end of the 10th century. The

country in fact was only converted to Christianity in the reign of Olof

Sköt Konung—1001 to 1026; and then, and for a long time afterwards, was

too poor and too thinly inhabited to require any architectural

buildings, and when these came to be erected the dominant race was one

that never showed any real sympathy for the art in any part of the

world.

SWEDEN.

The largest and most important monument in the province is the Cathedral

of Upsala, (Woodcut No. 777) measuring 370 ft. by 330 ft., though it can

hardly be quoted as an example of Scandinavian art; for when the Swedes,

in the end of the 13th century (1287), determined on the erection of a

cathedral worthy of their country, they employed a Frenchman of the name

of Étienne Bonnueill, to furnish them with a design, and to superintend

its erection. This he did till his death, though how far the work was

advanced at that time there is now no means of knowing. The church is

only 330 ft. in extreme length by 145 in width, with two western towers,

and the principal portal between them. The whole is of brick, except the

doorways, the gable of north transept, the interior columns, and some

smaller ornamental details. The building was in progress during 200

years,[397] and after Bonnueill’s death the French principles of detail

were departed from; and, in addition to this, the upper parts of western

towers were rebuilt during the last century, and other disfigurements

have taken place, so that the building would hardly be deemed worthy of

a visit farther south, and is only remarkable here from the meanness of

its rivals.

[Illustration: 777. Plan of Upsala Cathedral.]

The church at Linköping (1260-1500) ranks next in importance to that of

Upsala. It has, however no western towers or other ornaments externally,

but otherwise it far surpasses the latter in interest and the beauty of

its details. It is said to have been founded in 1150, and the oldest

portions are the transept and crossing of the choir, where the arches

are semicircular resting on piers with angle shafts and half-cylindrical

columns. Early in the 12th century the nave was continued, the work,

according to Mr. Perry, having spread over a long period, as at the west

end of the nave the work is as late or later than any of the work at

Upsala. The wall arcading in the north and south aisles is bold in

design, nobly moulded and carved. The choir, with its three eastern

chapels, was commenced late in the 13th or early in the 14th century,

but not completed till 1499.

The cathedral at Lund is both older and better than either of these. It

was commenced apparently about the year 1072, and consecrated in 1145 by

Archbishop Eskill, who had presided over its construction, and to whom

may be attributed its purely German character, as he had been brought up

in Hildesheim. The church has been magnificently restored, but

unfortunately at too early a date to have preserved much of its

historical features.

[Illustration: 778. Apse of Lund Cathedral. From a drawing by Mr.

Tavenor Perry.]

The church of St. Nicholas at Orebro is chiefly interesting on account

of its strong resemblance to English work. The fine south porch bears a

strong likeness to the now destroyed porch of St. Mary Overie, published

in Mr. Dollman’s work,[398] and is not dissimilar to the porch of the

north transept of Westminster Abbey.

There are other churches in Sweden, at Westeräs, Stregnäs, and Abo in

Finland, all large[399]—viz., about 300 ft. east and west by 100 to 120

in width,—and founded in the 12th and 13th centuries; but, like the nave

at Lund, they have been altered and improved so frequently during the

last 600 years, that very little remains of the original design:

whatever that may have been, in their present state they are hardly

worthy of mention.

Perhaps the most pleasing objects in Sweden are the country churches,

with their tall wooden spires and detached belfries. If these do not

possess much architectural beauty, they at all events are real

purposelike erections, expressing what they are intended for in the

simplest manner, and with their accompaniments always making up a

pleasing group.

[Illustration: 779. Old Country Church and Belfry. (From Marryat, ‘One

Year in Sweden.’)]

NORWAY.

The Norwegians are more fortunate than either the Danes or Swedes in

possessing at Trondhjem a national cathedral of great beauty and

interest, even in its present ruined state.

Its history is easily made out from a comparison of local traditions

with the style of the building itself. Between the years 1016 and 1030

St. Olaf built a church on the spot where now stands St. Clement’s

church, the detached building on the north, shown in plan at A (Woodcut

No. 780). He was buried a little to the south of his own church, where

the high altar of the cathedral is now situated. Between the years 1036

and 1047, Magnus the Good raised a small wooden chapel over St. Olaf’s

grave; and soon afterwards Harald Haardraade built a stone church,

dedicated to Our Lady, immediately to the westward of this, at B. This

group of three churches stood in this state during the troubled period

that ensued. With the return of peace in 1160, Archbishop Eysteen

commenced the great transept C C to the westward of the Lady Chapel, and

probably completed it about the year 1183. At that time either he or his

successor rebuilt the church of St. Clement as we now find it. During

the next sixty or seventy years the whole of the eastern part of the

cathedral was rebuilt, the tomb-house or shrine being joined on to the

apse of the Lady Church, as was explained in speaking of the origin of

the French chevet (p. 73). In 1248 Archbishop Sigurd commenced the nave,

but whether it was ever completed or not is by no means certain. In 1328

the church was damaged by fire, and it must have been after this

accident that the internal range of columns in the circular part was

rebuilt in the style of our earlier Edwards.

Thus completed, the church was one of the largest in Scandinavia, being

350 ft. long internally; the choir 64, and the nave 84 ft. wide. But its

great merit lies more in its details than in its dimensions. Nothing can

exceed the richness with which the billet-moulding is used in the great

transept. Its employment here is so vigorous and so artistic, that it

might almost be suspected that this was its native place, and that it

was derived from some wooden architecture usual in this country before

being translated into stone.

The greatest glory of the place is the tomb-house at the east end.

Externally this presents a bold style of architecture resembling the

early English.[400] Internally it is a dome 30 ft. in diameter,

supported on a range of columns disposed octagonally, and all the

details correspond with those of the best period of decorated

architecture.

[Illustration: 780. Plan of Cathedral of Trondhjem. Scale 100 ft. to 1

in.]

As will be observed from the plan (Woodcut No. 780), the architect had

considerable difficulty with all these rebuildings to bring the old and

new parts to fit well together, and in consequence the walls are seldom

straight or parallel with one another, and, what is most unusual, the

choir expands towards the east. This is not, however, carried to such an

extent as to be a blemish, and with a double range of columns down the

centre would hardly be perceived, or if perceived, the effect would be

rather pleasing than otherwise.

Had the western front been completed, it would have been one of the most

beautiful anywhere to be found, not only from its extent (120 ft.), but

also from the richness and beauty of its details, belonging to the very

best period of art—about the year 1300. In design and detail it

resembles very much the beautiful façade of Wells Cathedral. Like the

rest of the cathedral, it is now in a very ruinous state, and, as will

be seen by the view (Woodcut No. 781), the whole is so deformed

externally by modern additions, that its original effect can only be

judged of by a careful examination of its details.

[Illustration: 781. View of Cathedral of Trondhjem.[401]]

DENMARK.

The most interesting church in Denmark is that at Roeskilde, in Jutland,

which is now the burial-place of the kings, and the principal cathedral

of the country. The original church was founded in the year 1081, and

was then apparently circular, and of the same dimensions as the east end

of the present edifice. This latter was commenced after the middle of

the 12th century, and does not seem to have been completed as we now see

it till towards the end of the 13th. The east end is probably one-half

of the old round church rebuilt, the required enlargement of space

having been obtained by a considerable extension of length towards the

west.