A Bibliographical, Antiquarian and Picturesque Tour in France and Germany, Volume Two

by Thomas Frognall Dibdin

In the centre of the south transept, there rises a fine, slender, clustered column, reaching to its very summit. On the exterior of this column--placed one above another, but retreating or advancing, or in full view, according to the position of the spectator--are several figures, chiefly females; probably five feet high, with labels or scrolls, upon each of which is an inscription. I never saw any thing more elegant and more striking of its kind. These figures reach a great way up the pillar--probably to the top--but at this moment I cannot say decidedly. It is here, too, that the famous Strasbourg Clock, (about which one Dasypodius hath published a Latin treatise in a slim quarto volume[211] is placed. This, and the tower, were called the two great wonders of Germany. This clock may be described in few words: premising, that it was preceded by a clock of very extraordinary workmanship, fabricated in the middle of the fourteenth century--of which, the only existing portion is, a cock, upon the top of the left perpendicular ornament, which, upon the hourly chiming of the bells, used to flap his wings, stretch out his neck, and crow twice; but being struck by lightning in the year 1640, it lost its power of action and of sending forth sound. No modern skill has been able to make this cock crow, or to shake his wings again. The clock however is now wholly out of order, and should be placed elsewhere. It is very lofty; perhaps twenty feet high: is divided into three parts, of which the central part represents Our Saviour and Death, in the middle, each in the act as if to strike a bell. When, in complete order, Death used to come forward to strike the quarters; and, having struck them, was instantly repelled by our Saviour. When he came forward to strike the hour, our Saviour in turn retreated:--a whimsical and not very comprehensible arrangement. But old clocks used to be full of these conceits.

Upon throwing an eye over what I have just written, I find that I have omitted to notice the celebrated STONE PULPIT, in the nave, enriched with small figures--of the latter end of the fifteenth century. In fact, the date of 1485, in arabic numerals, (if I remember rightly) is at the bottom of it, to the right of the steps. This pulpit, my good friend, is nothing less than the very ecclesiastical rostrum from which the famous John Geyler thundered his anathemas against the monkish clergy. You may remember that some slight notice was taken of it at the beginning of this letter, in which the progress of Protestantism at Strasbourg was attempted to be traced. I will frankly own to you, that, of all pulpits, throughout Normandy, or in Paris--as yet examined by me--I have seen none which approaches to THIS; so rich, varied, and elaborate are its sculptured ornaments.[212] The Revolutionists could only contrive to knock off the figure which was upon the top of the canopy, with other contiguous ornaments; all of which might be easily restored.

STONE PULPIT, STRASBOURG CATHEDRAL.

A word now about the great Organ. If Strasbourg have been famous for architects, masons, bell-founders, and clock-makers, it has been not less so for organ builders. As early as the end of the thirteenth century, there were several organs in this cathedral: very curious in their structure, and very sonorous in their notes. The present great organ, on the left side of the nave, on entering at the western door, was built by Silbermann about a century-ago: and is placed about fifty feet above the pavement. It has six bellowses, each bellows being twelve feet long and six wide: but they are made to act by a very simple and sure process. The tone is tremendous--when all the stops are pulled out--as I once heard it, during the performance of a particularly grand chorus! Yet is this tone mellow and pleasing at the same time. Notwithstanding the organ could be hardly less than three hundred feet distant from the musicians in the choir, it sent forth sounds so powerful and grand--as almost to overwhelm the human voice, with the accompaniments of trombones and serpents. Perhaps you will not be astonished at this, when I inform you that it contains not fewer than two thousand two hundred and forty-two pipes. This is not the first time you have heard me commend the organs upon the Continent.

One of the most remarkable features belonging to the history of Strasbourg cathedral, is, the number of shocks of earthquakes which have affected the building. It is barely possible to enumerate all these frightful accidents; and still more difficult to give credence to one third of them. They seem to have happened two or three times every century; and, latterly, yet more frequently. Take one recital as a specimen: and believe it--if you can. In the year 1728, so great was the agitation of the earth, that the tower was moved one foot out of its perpendicular direction--but recovered its former position presently. "What however is quite certain--(says Grandidier)--the holy water, contained in a stone reservoir or basin, at the bottom of a column, near the pavement, was thrown by this same agitation, to upwards of half the height of a man--and to the distance of eighteen feet! The record of this marvellous transaction is preserved in a Latin inscription, on a slab of black marble, fastened to the lower part of the tower, near the platform."[213] In 1744 a severe tempest of thunder and lightning occasioned some serious injuries to portions of the cathedral; but in 1759 it suffered still more from a similar cause. Indeed the havoc among the slighter ornamental parts, including several delicately carved figures, is recorded to have been dreadful.

Of the subordinate churches of Strasbourg, the principal, both for size and antiquity, is that of St. Thomas. I visited it several times. The exterior is one of the most tasteless jumbles of all styles and ages of art that can be imagined; and a portion of it is covered with brick. But I question if there be not parts much older than the cathedral. The interior compensates somewhat for the barbarism of the outside. It is large and commodious, but sadly altered from its original construction; and has recently been trimmed up and smartened in the true church-warden style. The great boast of this church is its MONUMENTS; which, it must be confessed, are upon the whole exceedingly interesting. As to their antiquity, I noticed two or three of the thirteenth century; but they pretend to run up as high as the tenth. Indeed I saw one inscription of the eleventh century--executed in gothic letters, such as we observe of the latter end of the sixteenth. This could not be a coeval inscription; for I doubt whether there exist, any where, a monumental tablet of the eleventh century executed in coeval gothic letters. The service performed here is after the confession of Augsbourg; in other words, according to the reformed Lutheran church. A small crucifix, placed upon an altar between the nave and the choir, delicately marks this distinction; for Luther, you know, did not wage an interminable war against crucifixes.

Of modern monuments, the boast and glory of this church is that of the famous MARSHAL SAXE; who died at the age of 55, in the year 1755. While I was looking very intently at it, the good verger gently put a printed description of it into my hands, on a loose quarto sheet. I trust to be forgiven if I read only its first sentence:--Cette grande composition réunit aux richesse de l'art des Phidias et des Bouchardon, les traits de la grande poésie." "Take any shape but this"--thought I to myself--and, folding it up as gently as it had been delivered to me, I put it into my pocket. My good friend, I do beseech you to hear me out--when I preface my remarks by saying, that, of all monuments, this is one of the most tasteless and uninteresting. Listen to a brief but faithful description of it.

An immense pyramidal-shaped gray marble forms the background. Upon such a back-ground there might have been a group of a dozen figures at least. However, there happen to be only four of the human species, and three of animals. These human figures are, the Marshal; a woman weeping lustily--I had almost said blubbering; (intended to represent France) Hercules; and a little child--of some order or degree, not less affected than the female. The animals are, a lion, a leopard, (which latter has a bear-like form) and an eagle. I will now tell you what they are all doing. Before the Marshal, is an opened grave; into which this illustrious hero, clad in complete armour, is about to march with a quiet, measured step--as unconcernedly, as if he were descending a flight of steps which led to a conservatory. The woman--that is France--is, in the meantime, weeping aloud; pointing to the grave, and very persuasively intreating the Marshal to enter--as his mortal moments have expired. I should add that death--a large formidable-looking figure, veiled by a piece of drapery, is also at hand: seeming to imply that hesitation and reluctance, on the part of the hero, are equally unavailing. Next comes Hercules; who is represented as stationary, thoughtful, and sorrow-stricken, as France is agitated and in motion. The lion and leopard (one representing Holland, and the other England--intending to convey the idea that the hero had beaten the armies of both countries) are between the Marshal and Hercules: the leopard is lying upon his back--in a very frolicksome attitude. The lion is also not less abstracted from the general grief of the figures. And this large, ugly, unmeaning composition--they have the temerity to call the union of art by Phidias and Bouchardon--with the inspiration of sublime poetry! I will make no comments.[214] It is one of those felicitous efforts which have the enviable distinction of carrying its own text and commentary. Below this vast mural monument, is a vault, containing the body of the Marshal. I descended into it, and found it well ventilated and dry. The coffin is immediately obvious: it contains the body of the chieftain enclosed in two cases--of which the first is silver, and the second copper. The heart is, I believe, elsewhere.

Forming a strikingly happy contrast to this huge, unmeaning production- -are the modest and unassuming monuments of Schoepflin, Oberlin, and Koch: men, of whom Strasbourg has good reason to be proud. Nor let the monument of old Sebastian Schmidt escape the notice and commendation of the pensive observer. These were all "fine fellows in their day:" and died, including the illustrious Marshal, steady in the faith they had espoused--that is, in the belief and practice of the tenets of the reformed church. I have no time for a particular description of these monuments. Schoepflin's consists of a bronze bust of himself placed in the front of a white marble urn, between two cinnamon-colour columns, of the Corinthian order--of free stone. The head is thought to be very like. Oberlin's is in better taste. You see only his profile, by Ohmacht, in white marble--very striking. The accompaniments are figures in white marble, of which a muse, in rilievo, is larger than life. The inscriptions, both for Schoepflin and Oberlin, are short and simple, and therefore appropriate. The monument of Koch is not less simple. It consists of his bust--about to be crowned with a fillet of oaken leaves--by a figure representing the city of Strasbourg. Below the bust is another figure weeping--and holding beneath its arms, a scroll, upon which the works of the deceased are enumerated. Koch died in his seventy-sixth year, in the year 1813. Ohmacht is also the sculptor of Koch's monument. Upon the whole, I am not sure that I have visited any church, since the cathedral of Rouen, of which the interior is more interesting, on the score of monuments, than that of St. Thomas at Strasbourg.