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April/May 1999
The Spreewald—
A Unique Natural Wonderland and Ethnic Enclave
By John Dornberg
It is a corner of Germany so small you need a detailed map to find it. There are virtually no roads, just a maze of waterways negotiable by flat-bottomed punts that glide past thatch-roofed
farmhouses. Wildlife almost extinct elsewhere in Europe—otters, white storks, white-tailed sea eagles, kingfishers, and 44 kinds of dragonflies—abound. Instead of German, most people speak a Slavic tongue
related to Polish and Czech.
That is the Spreewald, a unique nature preserve and ethnic-cultural enclave where time seems to have stood still. Yet if you look closely at the map, you will see it is only 55 miles
southeast of Berlin and a scant 60 miles north of Dresden. Moreover, it has been a popular travel destination for more than a century—ever since Theodor Fontane described the region in his Wanderungen durch die Mark Brandenburg (Journeys Through the March of Brandenburg). Indeed, in the summer months it is so overrun that guide books recommend visiting mid-April to mid-May or late September through October.
According to legend, the Spreewald owes its existence to the Devil. Once upon a time he was out plowing with a team of oxen, drawing the furrow that was to become the Spree River. About
halfway between the hill country of the Oberlausitz (Upper Lusatia), where the Spree rises, and Berlin, where it joins the Havel River, the oxen got tired, lay down, and refused to budge. The Devil was furious. He screamed, cracked his whip, cursed, and threw rocks at them. This frightened the beasts so that they ran wild, first in one direction, then another, and back again in total confusion, all the time pulling the plow after them. And that, so the story goes, is how the labyrinth of the river's more than 300 branches and canals—called Fliesse—came into being.
The scientific explanation is that after the last ice age, when the glaciers receded and the rivers cut through the masses of rock deposit left behind, the Spree reached an area southeast of
Berlin where, because of the flat terrain, it began spreading out in a lacework of channels.
Regardless of the version you prefer, the result is a region so singular in Europe that it is under special Unesco protection: 600 miles of shallow waterways connecting towns, hamlets, and
isolated farmsteads that you can navigate either by rented canoes, or punts with seating up to 35, steered by polemen. Even the letter carriers and deliverymen come by boat. And in winter, when the Fliesse
freeze, ice-skates and sleds are the best way to get around.
The abundance of water also created an agricultural cornucopia. The area is famous for cucumbers, horseradishes, pumpkins, onions, celery, and herbs that made it the "vegetable bin" of
19th-century Prussia.
Moreover, the Spreewald is the homeland of the Sorbs, the Slavic descendants of the Wends whom the Knights of the Teutonic Order and the Margraves of Meissen and Brandenburg subdued in the 12th
and 13th centuries. Since then, though often discriminated against but at other times protected like a threatened species, this ethnic minority of 60,000 has managed to preserve its culture to such a degree that
in towns like Lübbenau and Lübben, or villages like Lehde and Burg signs are in two languages.
Small wonder, then, that the Spreewald has long been touristic turf. The first narrow-gauge railroad, between Cottbus and Lübbenau, began operation in 1898. It connected with trunk lines to
Berlin, Dresden, and the cities of Silesia and brought thousands of visitors to the area.
Even in Communist times, when only East Germans and East Berliners went there because others needed visas that were rarely granted, the Spreewald drew an average of one million visitors annually.
For those who could not even travel to other Communist countries but were lucky to be assigned spartan quarters in party or trade union-run hostels, it was an exotic holiday destination. Nowadays those numbers
are even higher.
"Actually little has changed," said Ulrich Schröter, operator of the punt on which I took an exploratory ride last fall. "In German Democratic Republic (GDR) days we had few
individual visitors but busloads of factory, union, or other groups. Today our passengers are mostly individual travelers, but we're just as busy. And we get tips."
Though private hotels and restaurants-most of them moderately priced-have mushroomed since the fall of the Berlin Wall, they are booked during summer school vacations. Thus the best time to come
is in spring or fall, and on weekdays.
The best starting point is Lübbenau (Lubnjow) population 22,000, the largest town in the region and the touristic epicenter of the Oberspreewald (Upper Spreewald), a landscape of scores of islands and densely wooded river banks.
Lübbenau had its beginnings as a fortified settlement of the Lusizi, a West Slavic tribe, who began settling here in the 6th or 7th century. Remnants of their moated, earth-walled 9th-century
fortress were excavated on the grounds of Schloss Lübbenau, the castle of the local lords, that was built on the site of this Slavic settlement in the early 14th century.
Despite constant strife between the burghers and the ruling counts, Lübbenau blossomed into an important linen-weaving, clothmaking, and beer-brewing center in the Middle Ages. It
declined in importance during the early Industrial Revolution but soon regained prosperity in the late 19th century when that narrow-gauge railway began bringing weekend tourists. But some of the Spreewald's
oldest inns, such as the Gaststätte zum Fröhlichen Hirsch and the Gaststätte Wotschofksa, date back to the 1700s. These are the spots to sample the local cuisine: Quark (smearcase) with linseed oil and boiled potatoes, carp soup, boiled beef with horseradish sauce, pan-fried zander with potato salad, pike and eel in creamy sauces, and accompanied with pickles of various kinds.
On a weekday it's an inviting town with narrow, cobblestone streets, lined by half-timbered houses. The main feature of its Marktplatz is the 18th-century Stadtkirche St. Nikolai (St. Nicholas City Church). Near the square you'll find Schloss, or Castle, Lübbenau.
The present structure is neo-Classical in style. Over the centuries it had many owners, among them the Counts von der Schulenburg family, one of whose descendants, Friedrich von der Schulenburg,
was Nazi Germany's ambassador to Moscow, helped draft the Hitler-Stalin pact, and then was executed in November 1944 for his part in the plot to kill Hitler. In 1621 the Schulenburgs sold the castle and lands
surrounding Lübbenau to Count Johann Siegmund zu Lynar, scion of a Tuscan family closely linked to the Medicis, who had come to Germany through trade in flax. The Lynars have owned the castle ever since—except
for 46 years during which they were expropriated, first by the Nazis and then by the Communists. The expropriation is part of the story.
Count Wilhelm Friedrich zu Lynar, the father of the present owner, Christian, was a Wehrmacht major, adjutant to Field Marshal Erwin von Witzleben and, like Schulenburg, one of the key members of
the conspiracy to assassinate Hitler. He was executed in September 1944. Like many others in the plot, the family, consisting of his widow and Christian, then 10, was expropriated by the Nazis. East German
authorities upheld the confiscation and turned the castle into a school, but allowed Countess Lynar and Christian to continue living in three of its more than 50 rooms. In 1953 they fled to West Germany.
Christian zu Lynar successfully reclaimed the property after Germany's 1990 reunification and has turned it into a top category hotel.
In the castle's former chancellery and orangery you will
find the Spreewald-Museum, a collection of Sorbic folk art as well as porcelain, faiences, and portraits of Lynar family members, including ones by Antoine Pesne and F. A. Tischbein. An old narrow-gauge locomotive and a combination passenger-and-freight car are in a nearby hall.
From the museum it is a short walk to either of Lübbenau's two Kahnfährhäfen, the harbors where you can board a punt for a choice of excursions lasting from two to ten hours with
several stops along the way.
The flat-bottomed boats are privately operated by Fährmänner (ferrymen) who work in cooperatives, some of which have existed for 100 years. Coffee, beer, wine, and soft drinks are served on board. Umbrellas are available to shade you and blankets to keep you warm. Prices average DM 5 (about $3) per hour per person.
One of the most rewarding roundtrips from Lübbenau, which you can reduce by about an hour by walking back along clearly marked trails, is the three-hour excursion that includes a stop at the
village of Lehde and its open-air museum of farmhouses and Sorbian customs. It is a journey through Fliesse densely lined by weeping willows, silver poplars, ashes, birches, and alder trees, many with trunks
five feet in diameter and nearly a century old. Patches of water lilies and reeds narrow the channels to little more than six or eight feet in width.
The usually vociferous "gondoliers" who propel the barges with long poles that reach down three to five feet to the bottoms of the channels, will tell you that the whole area is a unique
biological enclave and that no less than four score pairs of storks return here to roost each year. But the islands are also very much inhabited by farmers, craftsmen, and vacationers who live in the wooden,
thatch-roofed houses. A unique feature is the emblem of two crossed, crowned heads of snakes on the front gable of nearly every house. The Schlangenkönig (snake king)—representative of the ringneck snakes
and slowworms that abound here—plays a benign protective role in Sorbian mythology. Although there are paths, foot bridges, and even a few roads (for residents only) that connect the larger islets nowadays, most
people who live and work there still travel by rowboats or punts. When your punt pulls up to one of the stands on the shores, farmers sell their vegetables, handicrafts, and pickled cucumbers.
Lehde (Ledy) is where many punts stop for lunch or afternoon coffee at the 70-year-old thatch-roofed, half-timbered Café Venedig, and where you can decide
whether to continue or walk back to Lübbenau. It is but one of the colorful villages that you can see on longer excursions, however it is the most picturesque and romantic, for the hamlet of 200 has preserved
its original character and appearance. Theodor Fontane called it a "Venice in vest-pocket size."
Lehde's biggest attraction is the Spreewald Freilandmuseum (Blotjoski Muzej Lubnjow Ledy in Sorbian) an open-air museum of three fully furnished and equipped Sorbian farmyards with 200-year-old log and thatch-roofed buildings, some of them brought there from the larger village of Burg. Among them are a bakery, barns, and a workshop for making the punts. The three-dimensional picture of what life was like for the Sorbs features agricultural tools, colorfully painted furniture, costumes, and countless household artifacts. It is open daily April through October. From the museum it is a leisurely 45 minutes' walk back to Lübbenau.
Lübben (Lubin), population 14,000 and seven miles northwest of Lübbenau, is the region's second-largest town and the gate to the Unterspreewald (Lower Spreewald), so called because it is a few feet lower in altitude. Like other towns in the area, it was not only a site of rivalry and conflict between Germans and Slavs but, later in the 17th and 18th centuries, between Saxony and Prussia. Prussia finally triumphed at the 1815 Congress of Vienna when the German kingdoms and principalities realigned their borders. In the southern part of town there are still remnants of the outer defenses of the 9th century Sorb fortress. Although Lübben was almost 85 percent destroyed by artillery bombardment during the last month of World War II, a section of its medieval brick wall, including two Gothic watchtowers, survived and has been well restored. Fontane described Lübben as a "sleepy farming town," which it has remained. Its main attractions are the parish church and the 17th-century castle.
The Stadtkirche (City Church) is officially called the Paul Gerhardt Kirche in honor of its 17th-century pastor, considered one of the greatest German hymnal writers. There is a statue of him in front of the main portal. It is a three-naved late-Gothic hall church with some fine interior furnishings.
The Schloss, a five minute walk from the church, is a brick Renaissance structure that replaced a moated castle from the 14th century. The dukes of Saxony used it occasionally as a
summer residence. Most of the time it was the seat of their local administrators. Though the building now houses municipal offices, it incorporates a small museum of local history which includes the Wappensaal,
an ornate neo-Renaissance hall, now used for concerts. Its walls and ceiling are richly ornamented with murals depicting 116 escutcheons and coats of arms of Saxonian rulers and Lübben lords.
Lübben is the departure point for Kahnabfahrtstelle, or punt excursions, of two to eight hours to both the Lower and Upper Spreewald. Near the castle you can also rent canoes and
paddle-boats for do-it-yourself exploration. But if you do, be sure pick up a hiking-biking-boating guidebook to the waterways. They are a maze in which it is easy to get lost.
From Lübben it is an 11-mile drive along the northern boundary of the Upper Spreewald to the village of Straupitz in the heart of a lake district.
Straupitz (Tsupc) is a so-called unplanned village: a conglomeration of farms that just got bigger and grew into a community over the centuries. It
would hardly be worth mentioning were it not for the Counts von Houwald who settled here in the 17th century, acquired vast parcels of land, and helped the area to prosperity. The Houwalds left their mark with a
chateau in English country manor house-style, now a school, surrounded by a 30 acre landscaped park; an unusual kind of windmill; and a magnificent village church designed by none less than Karl Friedrich
Schinkel, the Prussian master architect.
The 18th-century Holländermühle (Dutch Windmill) is unique in Germany in that it serves a triple purpose: It can press flax to linseed oil, grind grain to flour, and also operate
as a saw-mill. It is still in operation and can be visited daily (except Mondays) from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m.
The Dorfkirche, which replaced an earlier 17th-century village church, is an eye-popping testimonial to the status of the Houwald family. You had to be really rich to commission
Schinkel, then Prussia's most acclaimed architect, to erect a church of this magnitude virtually in the middle of nowhere. The austere cream-colored structure, built between 1827 and 1832, is a masterpiece of
neo-Classical design. Its twin towers, each more than 130 feet high, are visible from miles away. The interior is remarkable for its clean lines and sparse decoration: a few frescoes and paintings; epitaphs of a
succession of Houwalds; a 17th-century altar and baptismal font, both from the previous village church.
A narrow road through marshes and Fliesse leads seven miles south to Burg (Borkowy), the "eastern gate to the Upper Spreewald." Incorporation of several other
hamlets has made this one of Germany's largest villages in area—20 square miles with a population of only 4,000. Within the communal boundaries there are 194 navigable Fliesse spanned by some 300 bridges, which
are called Bänke (benches). Sorb customs play an especially important role in Burg, and if you want to see traditional costumes, then you should visit the local Heimatfest on the last weekend in August. Farmsteads here are larger and more isolated than elsewhere in the Spreewald, and many of their thatch-roofed houses and barns are half-timbered or made of logs and date back to the 17th and 18th centuries.
The name Burg has nothing to do with a fortress but derives from the Sorbian "borkowy," which means "a pine forest," of which there are many. The Schlossberg, the community's
highest hill, rises up to 30 feet above the Spree. Archaeological excavations there have turned up remnants of a Sorb prince's fortified residence. The hillock is the subject of many Sorb myths, among them the
story of a Sorbian king who lives in its depths. This center of Sorb settlement was the focus of strong Slavophobic feelings during World War I and as a result German locals built a 100-foot observation tower on
the hillock.
Along the road between Straupitz and Burg there is the Arznei- und Gewürzpflanzgarten, a garden of medicinal herbs. Guided tours are available on the first and third Sunday of
every month between May and September.
A must-see is the Alter Spreewaldbahnhof, where the narrow-gauge trains made a stop on their runs between Cottbus and Lübbenau until the line stopped operating in 1970. It has
been made into a picturesque, turn-of-the-century-style inn, and there are a number of restored railway cars to see.
One- to eight-hour punt rides are available at the Kahnfährhäfen in Burg-Dorf, the central hamlet, and in Burg-Kauper.
From Burg it is a 14-mile drive back to Lübbenau or 12 miles to Cottbus, the largest city (population 125,000) in the Niederlausitz, where the main attractions are the Baroque
and neo-Classical burgher houses surrounding the Altmarkt (Old Market Square); the Gothic Oberkirche; the Apothekenmuseum (Apothecary Museum); the Wendisches Museum (Sorb Museum); and Schloss Branitz.
Contributing editor John Dornberg writes from Munich.
HOTELS:
Lübbenau
Hotel Schloss Lübbenau, Schlossbezirk 6, 03222 Lübbenau;
Tel.: 011.49.3542.8730; Fax: 011.49.3542.873666.
Doubles DM 230 to DM 290 ($140 to $175) in high season, DM 170 to DM 240 ($100
to $145) off season.
Turmhotel, Nach Stottoff 1, 03222 Lübbenau;
Tel.: 011.49.3542.89100; Fax: 011.49.3542.891047.
Doubles DM 180 ($110) in high season, DM 160 ($95) off season.
Hotel Spreewaldeck, Dammstrasse 31, 03222 Lübbenau;
Tel.: 011.49.3542.89010, Fax: 011.49.3542.890110.
Doubles DM 160 ($95) high season, DM 130 ($80) off season.
Lübben
Spreewaldhotel Stephanshof, Lehnigksberger Weg 1, 15907 Lübben;
Tel.: 011.49.3546.27210; Fax: 011.49.3546.272160.
Doubles DM 160 ($95).
Hotel Spreeufer, Hinter der Mauer 4, 15907 Lübben;
Tel.: 011.49.3546.27260; Fax: 011.49.3546.272634.
Doubles DM 140 ($85).
Hotel Spreeblick, Gubener Str. 53, 15907 Lübben;
Tel.: 011.49.3546.2320; Fax: 011.49.3546.232200. Doubles DM 130 ($80)
INFORMATION:
Fremdenverkehrsverein Lübbenau, Ehm-Welk-Str. 15, 03222 Lübbenau;
Tel.: 011.49.3542.3688; Fax: 011.49.3542.46770.
Fremdenverkehrsverein Lübben, Lindenstrasse 14, 15907 Lübben;
Tel.: 011.49.3546.2433 or 3090; Fax: 011.49.3546.2543.
Fremdenverkehrsamt Burg, Am Hafen 1, 03096 Burg-Dorf;
Tel.: 011.49.35603.417.
Fremdenverkehrsbüro Cottbus, Karl-Marx-Str. 68, 03044 Cottbus;
Tel.: 011.49.355.24254; Fax: 011.49.355.791931.
SIDEBAR
Land of the Sorbs
For all their colorful customs, and their role as a tourist attraction in the Ober- and Niederlausitz, the Sorbs are not just part of the Spreewald's folklore. They are a
living reminder that Germany in its modern geographical configurations is the result of eastward expansion in the Middle Ages.
The Sorbs are ethnic-cultural-linguistic descendants of the West Slavic peoples who settled between the Oder and Elbe rivers around A.D. 600. They inhabited those territories for half a
millennium before the Germanic Franks and Saxons arrived. Countless place names in eastern Germany attest to their long presence. Schwerin (from the Slavic word zwer, meaning a wild animal), Kamenz (from kamen,
meaning rock), Leipzig (from lipzi, the place under the linden trees), or the Berlin boroughs of Spandau (originally Spandowo), and Köpenick (called Copenice in Slavic) are some examples.
Most of the other Western Slavs were either slaughtered or forced to flee eastward into today's Poland and Czech Republic during the mid 12th- to mid 13th-century campaigns by the Margraves of
Brandenburg and Meissen and the Knights of the Teutonic Order to conquer the territories east of the Elbe. But the Sorbs stayed put.
Though they adopted many teachings, Christianity, and the German language from their occupiers, they also preserved their own idiom and many pagan customs. From the Middle Ages into the 19th
century they were oppressed and subjected to repeated attempts at forced assimilation.
In the early 20th century they enjoyed a brief respite, but hopes of a state of their own, like Poland and Czecho-Slovakia were never realized. They were cruelly persecuted in the Third
Reich. The Nazis disbanded the Sorbs' cultural societies, notably the Domowina (Homeland), their umbrella organization. Many Sorb leaders were incarcerated in concentration camps. There were plans to deport the entire Sorbian populace to German-occupied parts of Eastern Europe.
After World War II, to demonstrate "fraternity" and "alliance" with the Slavic countries of the Soviet bloc, East Germany's Communist regime bent over backwards to protect the
Sorbs. It supported preservation of their language with subsidized newspapers, publishing houses, a radio station and schools and sponsored their cultural events. But there was a price to pay. Although the
Domowina was reestablished, it was subverted and became virtually an extension of the ruling Communist party.
Following Germany's reunification in 1990, the Bonn government slashed most central support for the Sorbs, and rejected proposals to amend the constitution to give the Sorbs official status as a
cultural-linguistic minority, such as that enjoyed by the approximately 50,000 Danes in Schleswig-Holstein.
Because their territory was divided by the reconstituted states of Saxony (Upper Lusatia) and Brandenburg (Lower Lusatia), responsibility for preserving Sorbian culture passed to those two state
governments. Current federal government funds amount to about DM 16 million ($9.5 million) but are due to be cut in half by the year 2007; funding by the two states comes to another DM 20 million (about $12
million).
Ironically this division corresponds roughly with the linguistic and religious divisions within the Sorb community. Their language has two dialects: Upper Sorb, which is closer to Czech, and Lower
Sorb, which is akin to Polish. The Upper Sorbs, who inhabit the Oberlausitz are predominantly Catholic; the Lower Sorbs of the Niederlausitz and the Spreewald in Brandenburg are mainly Lutheran Protestant.
The subsidies are used to support a variety of cultural and educational activities.
In the Oberlausitz there are 37 primary schools in which Sorbian is taught and a secondary school in Bautzen in which all courses except physics, mathematics, and chemistry are in Sorbian. There
are 22 Sorbian language schools, including three secondary schools, in the Niederlausitz.
Two radio stations broadcast Sorbian programs, and two daily Sorbian newspapers are published.
In addition there are Sorbian museums in Bautzen and Cottbus, theaters, an institute of Sorbian studies, and chairs of Sorbian language and literature at the universities of Leipzig and Potsdam.
"For the next few decades prospects of preserving the language and culture are fairly good," says Dietrich Scholze, director of the Sorbian Institute in Bautzen, "but I would not
make longer-term predictions. Assimilation into German culture seems inevitable unless we gain special political status.”
Sorb identity is also threatened by continuing destruction of their village culture through strip mining of lignite. This began under East German communism and continues under post-1990
capitalism. Between 1945 and 1989 some 46 Sorbian villages were razed and destroyed by brontosaurus-like excavators that turn the lands between Bautzen and Cottbus into horrorscapes.
Horno (Rogow), population 350—is next on the list of the Lausitz Brown Coal Corp. (Laubag). Last June Brandenburg's supreme court ruled that forced resettlement of Horno's
inhabitants would not contravene the state constitution's guarantee of Sorbian minority status. Horno's burghers have filed a class action appeal at the European Court of Justice, which is expected to rule some
time this year.
—John Dornberg
In Goethe's Footsteps—Leipzig, Wetzlar, Weimar
By John Dornberg
Following Johann Wolfgang von Goethe's footsteps in this 250th anniversary of his birth would be a tour de force. Not only was Goethe an inimitable travel writer, but he was an indefatigable
traveler, often escaping from some unrequited love affair.
As is the case with Napoleon Bonaparte, there are scores of places that can claim Goethe as a visitor, if not a long-term resident. Peripatetic until age 80, often traveling in the brougham on
exhibit in the courtyard of his house in Weimar, he must have slept in many different beds. The German National Tourist Office lists 25 destinations associated with Goethe that you could visit this year—and that
does not include Strasbourg, where he was a student, Rome, where he spent nearly two years, Karlovy Vary, the former Karlsbad, in Bohemia, where he often took the waters, or all the places in Italy and
Switzerland that he described in his Italian journey. My choice narrows to three because of the role they played in Goethe's life and writings: Leipzig, Wetzlar, and Weimar.
LEIPZIG
"Leipzig to me is dear—a Paris in miniature." Thus spoke Goethe, through the words of one of the bawdy carousers in the Auerbachs Keller-scene of Faust, and paid tribute to the city that
formed his young-adult years.
He was only 16 when he arrived on October 3, 1765, to matriculate as a law student at Leipzig University. He roomed at a merchant widow's home in the Haus zur Grossen Feuerkugel (House of the Big Fireball) at No. 3 Neumarkt. Neither jurisprudence nor Leipzig had been his choices. He would have preferred studying old languages, literature, history, archaeology, and orientalism at Göttingen. But his father, a prominent jurist and himself a Leipzig graduate, had insisted, and sweetened it with a princely allowance of 1,200 guldens a year.
Goethe was immediately taken by the city, which was more cosmopolitan than his native Frankfurt. "The high buildings impressed me," he wrote later in his autobiography Dichtung und Wahrheit (Poetry and Truth), "and it is quite imposing, especially on Sundays and holidays, and at night when the streets are half illuminated by the moon."
Goethe remained for three years, though energetic studying was not part of his stay. Indeed, he spent more time sowing his oats in grand homes and in taverns, especially Auerbach’s, than at
lectures. But when he dropped out in 1768 without a degree, much to his father's vexation, he had learned a great deal about life.
The spirit of young Goethe in Leipzig is captured by the statue of him in front of the Alte Börse (Old Bourse). He seems to be gazing at the university, nowadays a 365-foot skyscraper completed in 1973, but appears to be walking jauntily toward Auerbachs Keller. On the pedestal's sides are relief portraits of two young women. One is Friederike Oeser, who guided him intellectually; the other is Catharina Schönkopf, called Annettchen, three years his senior, with whom he fell madly in love. The affair inspired his first two plays: Die
Laune des Verliebten (The Lover’s Feelings) and Die Mitschuldigen (The Guilty Parties).
Because of extensive urban renewal and modernization of the historic Altstadt (Old Quarter) in the first decades of this century, and its 75-percent destruction by World War II air raids, little of Leipzig looks like it did in Goethe's time. The House of the Big Fireball was bombed to rubble in 1943. Only two places link directly to Goethe: Auerbachs Keller and the Coffe Baum café.
Auerbach’s dates from 1530 when Heinrich Stromer von Auerbach, a city councilor, built a huge mercantile complex with courtyards and arcades, known as Auerbachs Hof, between Peterstrasse and
Neumarkt. The wine tavern in the vaulted cellar of one of the buildings became the favorite of Leipzig as well as visiting students and professors.
Among them was Dr. Johann Faust, a 16th-century physician, alchemist, and subject of many legends, including that he sold his soul to the devil in exchange for youth, knowledge, and magical
powers. He was the anti-hero of a book in 1587 by Johann Spiess and of a play by Christopher Marlowe, premiered in 1593.
According to one tale, Faust, accompanied by some students, was passing by Auerbach’s just as four draymen were trying to haul a wine cask out of the cellar. Faust boasted he could do that
single-handedly for a price: all the wine in the cask. Among much derisive laughter, he straddled the barrel and rode it out of the cellar like a horse. The truth to the story is probably that everybody was
already roaring drunk. But by 1625 it was the theme of two paintings in the cellar and became part of the Faust lore that Goethe read. Knowing the tavern as well as he did, it follows that he would make a visit
to Auerbach’s a scene in his version of the Faust legend.
Auerbachs Hof was razed in 1912 and replaced by the Mädler Passage, a neo-Renaissance "trade-fair palace" commissioned by Anton Mädler, the luggage and handbag
manufacturer. But the cellar was preserved, enlarged, and decorated with murals and sculptures of scenes from Faust. It is Leipzig's top spot for dining and wining.
Another favorite hangout of Goethe's, as well as of Gotthold Lessing, Johann Gottsched, Christian Gellert, Robert Schumann, Franz Liszt, Richard Wagner, Max Klinger, and other writers,
composers, and artists, was Zum Arabischen Coffe Baum (To the Arab Coffee Tree), one of Europe's oldest coffeehouses.
The curious name derives from a relief above the door showing a cherub handing a turbaned Turk, sitting beneath a coffee tree, a bowl of that then-exotic beverage. The building at No. 4 Kleine
Fleischgasse has been a meeting place for Leipzig intellectuals since 1718. During the Communist years it was a state-run restaurant, closed after reunification and reopened as a café last November following a
four-year, $4.8 million renovation. The rooms are filled with pictures of famous guests and objects relating to the history of coffee.
Even if there is little else relating to Goethe in Leipzig, there is plenty to see and do.
Leipzig was the city of Johann Sebastian Bach, who served as cantor of the Thomaskirche (St. Thomas' Church) and director of its famous boys' choir, the Thomanerchor, from
1723 until his death in 1750. The church, originally part of the monastery in which Leipzig University was founded in 1409, was altered numerous times until restored in neo-Gothic style in the late 19th century.
St. Thomas's chief heritage today is that of Bach and its close association with Leipzig's music world. There are two main organs, one from 1908, the other completed in 1967. Concerts are held several times a
week, including Friday evening and Saturday afternoon-performances by the Thomanerchor. The Bose-Haus across the street, a 400-year-old merchant's mansion, houses the Bach-Museum, a collection of memorabilia and
manuscripts. Chamber music concerts take place in its main hall.
Leipzig's oldest and largest church, dating from 1165, is the Nikolaikirche (St. Nichlolas's). Its neo-Classical interiors and paintings are the work of Adam Friedrich Oeser,
Goethe's drawing teacher. In October 1989 it was the scene of the "Monday demonstrations" that triggered the opening of the Berlin Wall and the fall of East Germany's Communist regime.
For an idea of Leipzig in Goethe's time, seek out the surviving Renaissance and Baroque buildings in the Old Quarter, especially the 17th-century Alte Börse, now used for concerts, and
the Altes Rathaus (Old Town Hall), completed in 1557, which houses the Stadtgeschichtliches (City History) Museum. Barthels Hof is the oldest merchants' complex, dating from 1523. Its courtyards,
surrounded by "facades reaching to the sky," reminded Goethe of "a big fortress." The Frege-Haus on Katharinenstrasse, built in 1707, is named for the banking family that once owned it. The Königshaus,
so named because it accommodated Saxony's kings on visits to Leipzig, is two years older. The ornate Romanus-Haus is named for Leipzig's early 18th-century mayor Conrad Romanus, who built it for 150,000 taler but had little time to enjoy it—soon being jailed for 41 years because of financial shenanigans.
WETZLAR
After a long illness that kept him in Frankfurt most of 1769, Goethe went to Strasbourg where he reluctantly continued studying law at the university. Besides dabbling in alchemy, anatomy, and the
antiquities, he had another affair—with Friederike Brion—which inspired several poems, including “Röslein auf der Heide” (Rose on the Heathland).
Goethe finally got his doctorate in jurisprudence in 1771 and returned to Frankfurt, worked as a newspaper critic, and wrote his early masterpiece Götz von Berlichingen, based on
the life of a rebellious 16th-century German knight. But before it was published he was dispatched by his father to Wetzlar to serve a law internship at the Reichskammergericht, the supreme court of the
Holy Roman Empire, which had its seat there. He had a great-aunt in Wetzlar who, presumably, was to keep an eye on him.
Goethe arrived on May 10, 1772, and took a room at No. 7 Kornmarkt, across the street from his aunt's house. He soon discovered that three friends from Leipzig were also in town,
including Karl Wilhelm Jerusalem. Though he duly signed in at the court, there is no evidence that he ever went to any sessions. Instead he spent most of his time socializing, imbibing with Jerusalem and other
interns at the Gasthaus zum Kronprinzen at No. 17 Domplatz, and, most important, courting Charlotte Buff, daughter of the administrator of the Deutschordenshof (Court of the Teutonic Knights) and fiancée of another good friend, Johann Christian Kestner. Goethe's love for "Lotte" Buff changed his life.
On September 11, 1772, four months after arriving in Wetzlar and shortly after Lotte had firmly rejected him, he left town without saying goodbye to anyone. Six weeks later his friend Jerusalem,
using two pistols borrowed from Kestner, shot himself because of his own unhappy affair with a married woman.
The unrequited ardor for Lotte, the friendship with Kestner, and Jerusalem's suicide became the central themes of Goethe's first big literary success, Die Leiden des jungen Werthers (The
Sorrows of Young Werther). He wrote the roman à clef, set in Wetzlar, in two months, and when it was published in the fall of 1774 it became an instant bestseller.
Nowhere else except in Weimar is Goethe as omnipresent as here. Besides a Goethestrasse, Lottestrasse, Kestnerstrasse, and Wertherstrasse, you will find the Lotte House, Jerusalem House, and a
dozen other spots that played a role in the "Sorrows."
Starting in May and continuing through September the local tourist office will sponsor dozens of special events to mark the Goethe anniversary.
The 850-year-old town of 54,000 became a free imperial city in 1180, thrived as a commercial center in the Middle Ages, but went into sharp decline in the Thirty Years War. It regained prominence
when the Reichskammergericht was moved there from Speyer in 1689. In the late 19th and early 20th century Wetzlar was a center of German optical manufacturing and birthplace of the Leica, the world's first
35-millimeter camera. Because there was relatively little damage during World War II, its Old Quarter looks almost as it did in Goethe's time: steep, winding cobblestone streets lined by half-timbered houses
covering every architectural style from Gothic through Baroque.
For do-it-yourself exploring use the Tourist Office's Historischer Rundgang in der Altstadt, a practical 14-page guide and map to more than 40 historic sites in the Old Quarter.
The most important and rewarding ones connected with Goethe are the Lottehaus, Jerusalemhaus, and the Reichskammergerichtsmuseum.
The Lottehaus, where Goethe spent almost every day in the summer of 1772, was the administration building of the Teutonic Knights, who had acquired land and established a hostel in Wetzlar in
1287. The Teutonic Order, founded in 1190 during the Third Crusade, was disbanded in 1809 under pressure from Napoleon. Three generations of the Buff family resided here as administrators. The house exhibits
period furnishings, documents and early editions by Goethe.
In the 17th-century Jerusalemhaus Karl Wilhelm Jerusalem, secretary of the Duchy of Brunswick's legation to the high court, had a two-room apartment from 1767 until his suicide in 1772. Among the
objects in the little museum are numerous portraits, including one of Elisabeth Herd, wife of the Palatinate legation secretary, with whom Jerusalem was in love. The furnishings all date from the second half of
the 18th century.
A visit to the Reichskammergerichtsmuseum will give you an overview of the institution's role in the Holy Roman Empire. A high court to regulate feuds and disputes between the constituent
electorates, principalities, and duchies of the empire was established by Emperor Maximilian I in 1495. It held sessions in various cities until 1527 when Speyer became its permanent home. The wars with France
and Louis XIV's conquests in the Rhineland, forced the court to flee eastward and settle in Wetzlar in 1689. Since all its members were highly respected civil servants, they brought renewed prosperity to the
town. The empire and the court were disbanded by Napoleon in 1806.
Though it is doubtful that Goethe was ever in it, Wetzlar's Dom (Cathedral), used nowadays for both Catholic and Protestant services, is a must. The huge structure that towers over Buttermarkt (Butter
Market) square was begun in the 12th century and never really completed. It incorporates so many styles that it is like a stone album of German ecclesiastical architecture. Each master seems to have had his own
ideas. Yet, it is remarkably harmonious on the inside with a trove of art treasures, including 14th-century frescoes and an unusual Pieta from 1380.
In Wetzlar you get a feeling of the past when you head down one of the steep, narrow lanes to the Lahn and cross the river by way of the 13th-century Lahnbrücke or Lahn Bridge. It is probably the route Goethe took in 1772, when he left, sorrowful like Werther.
Goethe journeyed downstream along one of Germany's most idyllic river valleys. Though it is only 60 miles—an hour's drive—to Lahnstein, where the Lahn meets the Rhine, you could easily spend a
week or two here to see the sites.
WEIMAR
Goethe was only 26 but famous, thanks to Werther and Götz von Berlichingen, when in November 1775 he visited Weimar, capital of the principality of Saxe-Weimar-Eisenach,
at the invitation of its 18-year-old Duke Carl August and his widowed mother Anna Amalia, who was making the vest-pocket duchy (394 square miles in area and total population 107,000) into a European center of
the arts. The trip was a turning point. Goethe became the young duke's privy-councilor and, later, chief minister, and Weimar became home for the rest of his life.
The picturesque city in the heart of Thuringia, designated as Europe's "Cultural Capital" this year, abounds with sites relating to Goethe, and a week is barely enough to see everything.
The Goethehaus, his town mansion on the Frauenplan, was where he spent nearly 50 years writing, entertaining Europe's other great thinkers, and working as the duchy's chief civil
servant. Three of the rooms were reserved for Christiane Vulpius with whom he lived out of wedlock for 18 years before they were married in 1806. The furnishings, including his substantial library, are original.
A tour of it as well as the adjacent museum can take the entire day.
Goethe's Gartenhaus (Garden House) that he bought in 1776 is the small country house on the Ilm River where he lived during his first six years and later years when he used it only in the summer.
The Wittumspalais, at the corner of Schillerstrasse and Theaterplatz, was the dower house of Anna Amalia. Here she surrounded herself with the leading intellectuals in Germany. Besides showing
period furnishings, the museum houses an important collection of paintings, Baroque costumes, and applied art.
The ‘Haus der Frau von Stein’, on the edge of the Ilm Park, was where Goethe spent countless hours in the company of his greatest unrequited love, Charlotte von Stein, seven years his senior and
wife of the ducal master of the house. The platonic relationship started shortly after Goethe's arrival in Weimar and lasted a decade. Though she had seven children from her husband, legend has it that she got
1,700 letters from Goethe.
The Schillerhaus on Schillerstrasse was where the poet and dramatist Friedrich Schiller, enticed to Weimar by Goethe, spent the last years of his life and wrote William Tell (without ever having been in Switzerland). The furnishings are not original—most of those having been sold by his widow to pay off the mortgage on the house after his premature death in 1805—but the ambience is genuine enough. The modern annex houses the Schiller Museum, a collection dealing with his life and work.
The Deutsches Nationalthater on Theaterplatz—thrice rebuilt and in different styles—was where Goethe and Schiller staged their dramas. The statue of the two on the square dates from 1857. In 1919
it was the seat of the National Assembly that drafted the constitution of the Weimar Republic.
Though the nearly 60 years that Goethe spent there were Weimar's golden age, there is more to see than sites connected with him and Schiller. Weimar was an important center of the Reformation and
briefly after World War I the cradle of German democracy and a font of liberalism in the arts. Besides Goethe and Schiller, some of the greatest figures of literature, art, and music are associated with the
city: Martin Luther, Lucas Cranach, Johann Sebastian Bach, Johann Gottfried von Herder, Christoph Wieland, Franz Liszt, Richard Wagner, Thomas Mann, Walter Gropius, Henry van de Velde, Lionel Feininger, Vasily
Kandinsky, and Paul Klee.
For the sites, start on the Markt (Market Square), surrounded by Renaissance, Baroque, and neo-Gothic burgher houses of which the Stadthaus, built in 1547, and the Cranachhaus,
Cranach the Elder's last residence, completed in 1549, are the finest. The Hotel Elephant has been Weimar's leading hostelry for more than 300 years. Thomas Mann used it as the setting for his Lotte in Weimar.
The Stadtkirche, or city church, on Herderplatz was completed around 1500. Luther preached from its pulpit; Lucas Cranach the Younger painted the altarpiece depicting his father
and Saxony's Elector Frederick the Wise; Bach did a stint as its organist; Herder was its pastor for nearly 30 years.
The Residenzschloss, just a couple of minutes' walk from the church, was the ducal palace and now houses the Kunstsammlungen zu Weimar, a magnificent collection of art,
including major works by Dürer, Cranach senior and junior, Veronese, Tintoretto, Titian, and Rubens.
The Liszthaus on Marienstrasse, full of original furnishings and some of his favorite instruments, is where Franz Liszt, spent his summer months from 1869 until his death in 1886. Among the
objects on exhibit are the portable clavichord he used when traveling and the baton with which he conducted the first Weimar performance of Lohengrin by his son-in-law Richard Wagner.
Diagonally across Marienstrasse is the Bauhaus School at which Kandinsky, Klee, and Feininger were teachers. It is now the Bauhaus University.
Contributing editor John Dornberg writes from Munich.
HOTELS
Leipzig
Park Hotel, Richard Wagner Str. 7, 04l09 Leipzig;
Tel.: 011.49.341. 98520; Fax: 011.49.341.9852740.
Doubles DM 233 to DM 268 ($140 to $160).
Hotel Adagaio, Seeburgstr 96, 04103 Leipzig;
Tel.: 011.49.341.216699; Fax; 011.49.341.9603078.
Doubles DM 195 to DM 320 ($115 to $190).
Wetzlar
Hotel Bürgerhof, Konrad Adenauer Promenade 20, 35578 Wetzlar;
Tel.: 011.49.6441.9030; Fax: 011.49.6441.903100.
Doubles DM 155 to DM 180 ($93 to $108).
Hotel Wetzlaer Hof, Obertorstr. 3, 35578 Wetzlar;
Tel.: 011.49.6441. 9080; Fax: 011.49.6441.908100.
Doubles DM 150 to DM 170 ($90 to $100)
Weimar
Hotel Elephant, Markt 19, 99423 Weimar;
Tel.: 011.49.3643.8020; Fax: 011.49.3643.802610.
Doubles DM 310 to 390 ($185 to $235) without breakfast.
Hotel Amalienhof, Amalienstr. 2, 99423 Weimar;
Tel.: 011.49.3643.5490; Fax: 011.49.3643.549110.
Doubles DM 170 to DM 196 ($100 to $120) including breakfast.
INFORMATION:
Leipzig Tourist Service, Richard-Wagner-Str. 1, 04109 Leipzig;
Tel.: 011.49.341.7104260; Fax: 011.49.341.7104276;
Email: lipsia@aol.com
Wetzlar Tourist Information, Domplatz 8, 35573 Wetzlar;
Tel.: 011.49.6441.99338; Fax: 011.49.6441.99339;
Web: http://www.wetzlar.de
Weimar Tourist Information, Markt 10, 99421 Weimar;
Tel.: 011.49.3643.24000 or 19433; Fax: 011.49.3643.240040;
Web: http://www.weimar.de
GERMAN-AMERICAN FEATURE
German Émigré Artists in America
By Angela Koenig
In 1848 a prominent Cincinnati businessman, John Groesbeck, was traveling abroad when he stopped in Düsseldorf to visit his friend Worthington Whittredge, an American artist studying at the famed
Royal Academy of Art. According to Whittredge’s memoirs, the two men were reunited at the studio of a German artist. But before the reunion between the two Americans had a chance to begin, their German host
latched onto the businessman and pressed him into service as a model for a painting in progress. The German painter needed the American visitor—who now had a fake bandage affixed to his head—to portray a wounded
solider in a boat. Whittredge, however, had no time to be offended by the inconvenience. He too soon found himself in the same metaphorical boat; enlisted first to hold an oar and pose as a boatsman and
then—remaining still for almost two hours—as a body double for the painting’s central figure, a cape-clad officer standing at the helm. Unbeknownst to all three men, the painting would go on to receive
international acclaim and remain a symbol of American patriotism into the 20th century. The painting would also gain the distinction of being the most reproduced image in America. It’s title: “Washington
Crossing the Delaware.”
But can you name the artist? Few people, aside from art historians and scholars, can. It was the German-born Emanuel Leutze(1816–1868). So intent was his sense of accuracy that for “The Crossing”
Leutze nabbed almost every American he came into contact with to model for the painting. He even procured an exact copy of General Washington’s uniform. Throughout his lifetime, Leutze lived in both Germany and
America and died while residing in Washington, D.C.
How is it, then, that Leutze—responsible for painting one of the most significant images in American history, found in most every school primer in the United States—often goes unrecognized?
Experts say this can, in part, be explained by a tacit assumption in American culture that art appreciation is an elitist pastime. But it is also a reflection, they say, of a pervasive—though inaccurate—popular
mindset: that the earliest American artworks—portraits, landscapes, and occurrences—were executed by artists of English, French, or Spanish origin because these groups were among the first to settle the New
World. In fact, the world view of early Americana was, and still is, greatly defined by the paintings of Euro-Americans who came from Germany and the German-speaking regions of Austria and Switzerland.
“Museums, in some cases, have not started seriously to collect them, but art dealers are starting to catch on, ”says art historian Peter Merrill, who recently published three books about German
art in America. (See sidebar)
Art scholar Marion Deshmukh, an associate Professor of History and Art History at George Mason University, who writes and lectures on the connection between German and American art, asserts:
“People may know some of the paintings, but not the names of the artists; and even if they do know more, certainly very little biographical information. English painters were there all along,” she stresses, “but
the German influence was quite pronounced, especially during the first half of the 19th century.”
In the decades that led up to the mid-19th century—before American cultural tastes turned toward the French—German-born artists, indeed, made a solid impact. Many artists who came to America had
either trained, or returned to train, at renowned schools located in Berlin, Dresden, Weimar, Munich, and Düsseldorf. The latter popularized the Düsseldorf style of painting: works that reflected the ordinary
events of day to day life, as opposed to the traditionally accepted painting of royalist activities. Coming into vogue at the time were the Romantic Movement and a heightened interest in science and nature, and
America offered artists fresh imagery to place on their canvases.
As with all art that originated in the New World, the works of German émigré artists can be traced to the late 1600s and early 1700s, during the formation of the British colonies. At the time,
however, the practicalities of life for most people spawned a greater appreciation for items like food, shelter, guns, and ammunition. Thus, what few professional painters there were found their talents tied to
painting portraits for those who could afford the luxury. Two German immigrant artists—Justus Engelhardt Kuhn and Jeremias Theus—are said to have found great success in the 1700s by painting portraits for
wealthy colonists. On the flip side of commerce, the German immigrant Johann Valentin Haidt, who came to Pennsylvania to live with the Moravians around 1754, served as an artist/documentarian, painting members
of his religious community.
The Germanic influence on the United States in the early 19th century followed the course of immigration patterns. It is estimated that between 1770 and 1890 about 200 German émigré artists had to
come America; the number grew to 1,336—to include German-American artists—by 1913. While the earliest draw, though few in numbers, is attributed to spiritual freedoms, the later influx began with the economic
and political freedoms validated by the American Revolution of 1776. These factors, coupled with the romantic idea of uncharted territories and exotic native peoples, inspired artists to travel from Germany to
the new frontier. Though portraiture continued to dominate as a subject matter well into the 1840s, genre painting—documenting the human endeavor—and nature painting were beginning to gain popularity. In fact,
John Lewis Krimmel (1789–1821), who emigrated from Württemberg, is credited as being the first painter in America (circa 1820) to step outside the confines of portraiture and exclusively paint happenings that
took place in the then-burgeoning city of Philadelphia.
Perhaps the most widely recognized of all mid-19th century German émigré artists was the prolific painter Albert Bierstadt (1830–1902), considered among the foremost painters of grandiose
landscape scenes depicting the American frontier. Born in Solingen, Germany, Bierstadt came to America as a child and was raised in Massachusetts. He departed for Europe in 1857—spending some time in Düsseldorf
under the private tutelage of Leutze and Whittredge—but two years later returned to New York to paint. After going West with a surveying team in 1859, his brush captured the natural glory of unblemished wonders,
such as the “Rocky Mountains.” Another excursion, to California in the 1860s, produced scores of paintings of the Yosemite Valley, more famously “The Domes of the Yosemite.” All told, the number of Bierstadt’s
works—paintings, illustrations, and engravings—exceeded 1,000. During the third quarter of the century, however, he began to be criticized for his large canvases and often larger-than-life scenes. He completed
his last, large western landscape painting, “The Last of the Buffalo,” in 1888.
Painting Native Americans became a specialty of the German-born artist Charles Weimar (1828–1898). Though Indians were an ever-present danger, he found their ways and appearance a fascinating
muse. At 15 he came from Siegburg, Germany, and settled with his parents on the outskirts of St. Louis, where he befriended the local tribespeople. He too studied at the Düsseldorf academy, where he painted “The
Captive Charger,” depicting Indians who’d taken the horse of a fallen American soldier. Weimar returned to St. Louis in 1856 and shortly after died of consumption. Another German-born artist, Charles Nahl
(1818–1878), who moved to San Francisco in 1850, documented what would become known as the Wild West. His paintings, such as “Weighing the Gold,” captured the adventuresome spirit of California Gold Rush years.
Without the advent of the camera, German interests abroad sponsored a number of exploring expeditions; employing artists to produce the modern equivalent of a picture postcard. The Swiss-born artist Charles
Bodmer (1809–1893), for example, served to document the American travels of Prince Maximillian zu Wied between 1832 and 1834. In addition to work-for-hire artists, there were also many independent, untrained
artists such as Franz Hölzlhuber from Linz, Austria. His search for gainful employment—outside the art world—took him down the Mississippi River into Arkansas and to the American Southwest. As an aside to odd
jobs, he painted more than 100 watercolors of his travels. And upon his return to Austria in 1860 he exhibited his works as a collective representation of the American Western frontier. While the most prolific
number of paintings by German émigré and German-American artists were produced in the latter half of the 19th century, there is no doubt that their predecessors—hundreds, with varying degrees of talent—paved the
way. It was, after all, from these early artworks that Americans and outside cultures—then and now—gained insight into the trials, tribulations, and glories of a newly created populace; and in many ways, their
relative anonymity says something about the assimilation of German culture into American culture.
“The whole thing is kind of an undiscovered element that a few people are beginning to unearth,” says Thomas Litdke, executive director of the West Bend Art Museum in Wisconsin. The museum has an
impressive collection—about 250 paintings—of regional art, about 90 percent of which, due to the large concentrations of German immigrants who settled the midwestern states, are by German-born and
German-American artists.
”Some of those who did not achieve national acclaim,” he notes, “were just as good and just as interesting as those who did achieve wider acclaim.”
That recognition, however, is starting to surface, due greatly, says Deshmukh, to the reunification of Germany. “There is,” she says “a new interest in the German-American relationship, both
historic and contemporary.”
In 1996, for instance, more than 150 paintings from museums and private collections all over the United States were shipped to the German History Museum in Berlin for the exhibition: 1813–1913
Vice Versa: German Painters in America, American Painters in Germany. Its organizers, Gerhard Bott, the former director of the German National Museum in Nuremberg, and his wife, art historian Dr. Katarina Bott,
who reside in Austria, are currently working to bring the exhibition to the United States.
Angela Koenig writes from Cincinnati, Ohio.
For more information, look to the following resources:
The Art Institute of Chicago
Tel.: (312) 443–3600
West Bend Art Museum (Wisconsin)
Tel.: (414) 334–1151
German-American Collection
The University of Cincinnati Library
Tel.: (513) 556–1955
German Artists in America.
A Biographical Dictionary by Peter C. Merrill, Scarecrow Press, 1997; Tel.: (800) 462–6420.
SIDEBAR ON PETER MERRILL
In the area of fine arts, it’s not unusual for public institutions to receive large donations from a wealthy patron. In 1998 three U.S. institutions—The University of Cincinnati, The West Bend Art
Museum in Wisconsin, and The Art Institute of Chicago—received information and resources deemed priceless: the research archives of art historian and scholar Dr. Peter C. Merrill, who is one of the world’s
leading experts on German art in America.
“I wanted to make it available for people who want to continue,” commented Merrill, 68, from his home in Boca Raton, Florida. The decision to donate his archives came in conjunction with his
retirement as a professor of Languages and Linguistics at Florida Atlantic University, and a medical condition that is adversely affecting his eyesight.
His living legacy, which was divided among the three institutions, consists of more than 1,000 slides, notes, and professional papers that he amassed over a 30-year period. Merrill used
these materials to conduct history lectures, to write more than 40 published articles, and to write three books, published in 1997, about Germanic influences on American culture. The books—German Immigrant
Artists in America. A Biographical Dictionary, German-American Artists in Early Wisconsin. A Biographical Dictionary; and German-American Painters in Wisconsin. Fifteen Biographical Essays—provide
detailed information on the lives and works of hundreds of German-born and German-American artists: from the country’s earliest beginnings to present. Over the course of his research, Merrill had the opportunity
to view many of these artists’ original works—at museums and in private collections. By cross-referencing official records, both here and in Germany, he was also able to expound on—and sometimes correct—existing
histories.
“The reference books, which were the first things I turned to, often had to be supplemented by deeper research,” says Merrill.
Collectively, “It’s a tremendous resource.... It’s so gigantic, so encompassing that people from all over the world will come to use it,” asserts Dr. Don Heinrich Tolzmann, who is the Director of
the German-American Studies Program at the University of Cincinnati. Merrill’s gift to UC—about 400 slides and papers covering artists throughout the United States—is now included in the university’s
German-Americana Collection: the largest archival collection in the world pertaining to the German-American experience.
“What we’ve had was strong in history, literature, and culture but we really never had anything that specifically covered the area of art.... What Merrill’s done fills a major gap for all future
work on the topic,’’ says Tolzmann.
Merrill’s archives concentrating on artists in Wisconsin went to the West Bend Art Museum in Wisconsin, and his archives on Chicago artists, many of whom were of Swiss heritage, went to the Art
Institute of Chicago.
—Angela Koenig
YESTERYEARS—APRIL/MAY 1999
By Robert A. Selig
1) The Easter Bunny
Eggs and rabbits are pre-Christian fertility symbols. In ancient Egypt and Persia people exchanged decorated eggs at the spring equinox. Early Christians adopted the custom, and the Easter egg
became a religious symbol—representing the tomb out of which Jesus came forth like life bursting forth from an egg. They were often colored red to represent the blood of Christ. During the Middle Ages, eggs,
forbidden during Lent, were given at Easter to servants and children to symbolize the resurrection and new life in Christ. The rabbit was an image of Christ's post-resurrection appearances, which were
likened to the rabbit being seen and then disappearing and then being seen again somewhere else.
The first mention of an egg-carrying Osterhase, or Easter Bunny, comes from Germany in the late 1500s, where he brought red eggs on Holy Thursday and multi-colored eggs the
night before Easter Sunday. Children would build nests in a secret place, often outside, using their caps and bonnets. If they were good, the Osterhase would leave some eggs for them. The first edible
bunnies, made of pastry, were created in Germany about 200 years ago. Early 18th-century German immigrants to Pennsylvania brought the pastry tradition with them to America.
2) What’s In a Name: Mennonites and Amish
The origins of Wiedertäufertum, or Anabaptists, lie in the radical religious reform movements of the early 16th century. Already by the early 1520s Bernese Anabaptists
demanded the complete separation of state and church and refused service as magistrates and in the military. Theologically they rejected infant baptism, among other rituals, as not based on scripture and
demanded the Re- or Ana- baptism of all believers.
Independent of developments in Switzerland, a group of Anabaptists coalesced in the Netherlands and northwestern Germany during the 1530s. They were soon called the Mennoniten after their leader Menno Simons (ca. 1494–1561). Though viciously persecuted all across Europe, Menno's group flourished in the religiously tolerant Netherlands, which granted the Anabaptists freedom of worship in 1579. A century later persecution swept Swiss-German Anabaptists into the Palatinate, where they encountered their Dutch-German brethren. Among the Swiss refugees was Jakob Ammann (1644–1730). Amman was a fundamentalist, and when Palatine "Mennonites" rejected his reform demands in March 1694, the movement split into the Mennonites and Ammann's followers, the Amish. In order to escape the depravations of the War of the Spanish Succession (1701–1715), the majority of both groups soon migrated (mostly) to Pennsylvania, where they have preserved their lifestyles until today.
3) 19th-Century African-Americans and Germany
In 1852 African-American businessmen assembled for the Black State Convention in Cincinnati "Resolved, that we recommend the teaching of the German language in our schools, believing that
it will prove a great auxiliary to our cause." Why? Part of the explanation lies in the great esteem in which white Americans such as Ralph Waldo Emerson, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, or George Bancroft
held German language and culture. Throughout the century the German educational system strongly influenced the American system, and many African-Americans saw education as the way out of their misery.
Another reason was the ideological affinity many blacks felt with the 1848 revolutionaries fleeing from political oppression in Germany to the United States. The 1852 convention
expressed sympathy "with the oppressed...German Socialists in their efforts to throw off the yoke of despotism and reestablish their liberty." In August 1859 Frederick Douglass wrote in the
Douglass’ Monthly: "A German has only to be a German to be utterly opposed to slavery. In feeling, as well as in conviction and principle, they are anti-slavery." Douglass and his
abolitionist friends saw the Germans as allies in their struggle against slavery, a hope borne out by the thousands of immigrants who fought for the Union during the Civil War.
4) Pennsylvania-German Gypsies
Gypsies, a term derived from the word Egyptian for an ethnic group originating in northern India, appeared in Germany during the first decades of the 15th century. Initially welcomed by the
local populations, they soon became subject to persecution when they insisted on maintaining their separate language (based on Sanskrit) and culture and resisted all attempts to force them into a settled
life-style.
Driven by their unquenchable wanderlust, the first Sinti, as they call themselves today in Germany, crossed the Atlantic for Pennsylvania with Moravian Brethren during the late 1720s. Colonial
immigrants seem to have confined their wanderings to Lancaster and Berks counties, while most of the 400 or so families entering the United States during the height of the gypsy immigration from 1850–1862
preferred southern states such as Virginia. In America they engaged primarily in horse-trading and the hawking of cheap goods. From the 1850s until the outbreak of World War I, most gypsy immigrants declared
Austro-Hungarian nationality, though Pennsylvania-Dutch remained the most widely used term.
Even in the New World gypsies remained persecuted: It was not until October 1986 that Pennsylvania Governor Dick Thornburgh repealed a statute of 1909 allowing local authorities to run them
out of town.
5) Robert F. Wagner (1877–1953)
Robert Wagner was nine years old when his parents immigrated to New York in 1886. When Reinhardt and Magdalene Wagner returned disappointed to Nastätten in Hesse ten years later, Robert
remained behind. Admitted to the New York Bar as a 23-year-old in 1900, he entered the New York House of Representatives with the support of the Tammany Hall machine in 1904.
A rising star in New York politics, he was the Democratic whip in the State Senate when the Triangle Shirtwaist Company fire in March 1911 killed 146 female employees. The tragedy opened his
eyes to the need for improved labor laws. He used his position in the Senate to push legislation so effectively that by 1913 the NY AFL declared labor laws in their state to be the best in the nation.
A judge in the New York Supreme Court since 1919, Wagner was elected to the U.S. Senate in 1926, where he served until 1947. Year after year his labor bills were defeated until Congress passed the
"Relief and Construction Act" of 1932, which acknowledged federal responsibility for the unemployed. The crowning achievement of Wagner’s legislative activities was the "National Labor Relations
Act" of 1935, commonly known as the Wagner Act.
EDITORIAL
Cultural Travels
Just as Goethe’s novel The Sorrows of Young Werther conquered the reading public of Germany—and Europe—in the 1770s, the story deeply affected my romantic sensibilities as a college student and was my introduction to the writer. In celebration of the 250th birthday of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, German Life takes a more lighthearted route in this issue and follows him in his travels.
Best known as a man of letters, Goethe’s interests and talents extended far beyond the literary realm. He was a skilled artist and had a comprehensive knowledge of antique art. He was learned in
biology, mineralogy, and optics. And his practical pursuits included architecture, economics, horticulture, mining, and landscape gardening. Because of his wide range of activities, some people refer to him as
the last European to embody the universal man.
His broad interests and different official duties propelled Goethe to travel extensively. As one writer points out in these pages, to follow his trails completely one would have to cross Germany’s
borders into Switzerland, France, Italy, and the Czech Republic. Yet, delving into Goethe’s connections to his homeland provides perhaps the greatest insight into his life. Indeed, when visiting Leipzig,
Wetzlar, and Weimar—three cities where he resided—one becomes more familiar not just with Goethe but also with Germany.
Goethe spent nearly 60 years in Weimar in particular and thus contributed to the city’s reputation as the center of German humanistic tradition. Coinciding with the special attention that the
Goethe anniversary year will bring Weimar, the city has been chosen as the 1999 European Cultural Capital. It is a distinction placed upon various European Union (EU) countries since 1985. This marks the first
time a German city will be recognized. About 300 events are scheduled to allow visitors to learn about Germany’s cultural achievements. We invite you to explore some of the samplings illustrated in this issue.
Even though events like the Goethe anniversary and the EU honor bestowed on Weimar highlight Germany’s accomplishments, some pockets of German culture remain unrecognized. As this issue’s
German-American feature illustrates, German-speaking artists captured essential aspects of early Americana but, to a great degree, have not received their due acclaim. By focusing on these artists’ work, we hope
to do our part in correcting the oversight. Moreover, we hope to show you that to appreciate German cultural riches, one does not always need to travel to Europe but can also find treasures closer to home.
Letters to the Editor: April/May 1999
Hungarian Connections
I found the article regarding the origins of German settlement in Hungary (“Ungarland ist’s Reichste Land,” Feb./Mar. ’99) enjoyable, especially since I have a family connection to the time
period. In 1770 my father’s ancestors traveled down the Danube River from a small town named Felldorf and eventually settled in the town of Filipowar in Batschgau. The family stayed in the area for almost
200 years until World War II when they were expelled.
Also, I just returned from Germany where I visited the Haus der Donauschwaben (House of the Danube-Swabians), a cultural museum located in Sindelfingen. The history of this migration described in the article is also documented and preserved at this museum with exhibits, books, paintings and Trachten (colorful ethnic clothes).
Fred Gauss
Via Email
As the son of Donau-Swabians I found the article regarding German settlement in Hungary fascinating. My parents spoke fondly of farming life in the region in the 1920s and 1930s.
Sadly that all ended for them with the advent of WWII. As the article states “...the deportations following WWII uprooted their descendants again and dispersed them all over the globe.” Our dispersion
brought us to Colorado from Bukin in the Bacscka. Thank you for bringing my ancestry into historical perspective.
Franz Ripsam
Alamosa, CO
The article regarding Germans in Hungary clarified the political and social reasons for the emigrations of my ancestors. I certainly did not know what maneuverings were going on at the time,
but the historical details are now clear to me. Thank you very much.
Bob Eiserle
Via Email
Telling It Like It Is
The article on Low German (Language, Feb/Mar ’99) was interesting and factual but contained some gaps. The 19th-century north German immigrants came in significant
numbers to many more states than was suggested in the article, e.g., Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Minnesota, and Kansas.
In many cases, their mother tongue (Plattdüütsch or Low German) is still used daily in the regions where they settled. This is also the case in large parts of northern Germany. It is not currently just an object of “study” or “cultural interest.” The article did not include any mention of the fact that Low German is being taught in elementary schools in various parts of northern Germany. It is not nearly as dead as one might surmise from the article. I hope you will have a future article that is more comprehensive.
Bob Stockman
Via Email
I would like to compliment you for the fine article “Plattdeutsch—Niederdeutsch—Low German” (Language, Feb./Mar. ’99). Both the content of the text and the graphic representation of the
information are the best summary of this topic that I have seen published recently in the English language.
Two recent and related developments might be of further interest. First, On December 1, 1998, Low German was accepted by the European Council into the European Charter of Minority Languages.
Low German now has official status as a language. This means, for example, that legal proceedings must now be conducted in Low German if requested and if it is the native language of either parties involved.
A group of politicians and interested citizens under the leadership of Wolfgang Bürnsen, member of Germany’s Federal Parliament, organized the bipartisan campaign that is responsible for its success.
Second, on October 22–24, 1999, the Pommerscher Verein in Wausau, Wisconsin, is planning a Low German Conference (Plattdüütsch Konferenz). Don Zamzow can be contacted for
further information at tel.: (715) 359–5189.
Dr. Joachim Reppmann
Professor of German
Carleton College
Retaining Identity
The caption on page 26 of the Feb./Mar. ’99 article “Globalization German-Style” identifies the three-wheeled vehicle in the photo as one of the first Daimler transport vehicles. The carriage
was actually built by Carl Benz in 1885. Gottlieb Daimler’s first car ran in 1886.
Both men were established engineers at the time and each had his own businesses but neither man knew about the other’s inventions. In fact, the two men never met each other in their lifetimes.
Daimler-Benz did not exist until 1924.
When Daimler-Benz and Chrysler merged, I was sorry to see Benz’s name removed from the company name. I hope such action will not cause him to be forgotten in the future, as the caption seems
to foretell.
Stephen A. Miller
York Springs, PA
Errata
February/March 1999
- “A Joyful Madness”: The Swiss city pictured on the lower righthand corner of page 34 is Lucerne.
- “Russian Jews in Germany”: The correct title of the book by photographer Edward Serotta is Jews, Germany, Memory.
- Library: The title of the book and main subject in the review is Dona Leopoldina. In Portuguese there is no ñ.
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