Académique Documents
Professionnel Documents
Culture Documents
Middle Ages
Entangled History of Medievalism in
Nineteenth-Century Europe
Edited by
Patrick J. Geary and Gábor Klaniczay
LEIDEN • BOSTON
2013
Introduction ..................................................................................................... 1
PART ONE
MEDIEVALISM IN NINETEENTH-CENTURY HISTORIOGRAPHY
PART TWO
MEDIEVALISM IN NINETEENTH-CENTURY ARCHITECTURE
PART THREE
MEDIEVALISM IN NINETEENTH-CENTURY PHILOLOGY
PART FOUR
MEDIEVALISM AND ITS ALTERNATIVES IN
NATIONAL DISCOURSES
Michael Werner
* I am very grateful for the discussions and precious comments of the focus group mem-
bers who shared the common work at the Collegium Budapest during the first months of
2009.
identity. In addition romantic historicism sees in the Middle Ages the har-
monious unity of a religiously formed community and its advocates were
interested in the popular traditions inherited from the Middle Ages and
sought to use these traditions to shape their own ways of life.
The positivistic or scholarly Historismus, by contrast, attempted to infer
“pure elements” of the past form vocabulary in an art-historically correct
way. It criticized the “Subjektivismus” of romantic historicism, and tried to
find a teachable and objectively correct style derived from form details.
But as we will see, even if it concentrated on details, the positivistic his-
toricism did not proceed (and work out) without representing the totality,
which encompasses and summarizes all individual details.
At this step, a basic tension important for our subject becomes vis-
ible: that between Totalisierung and eclecticism. As normally understood,
eclecticism means combining and mixing heterogeneous elements in
opposition to the idea of a totalized and unified representation of the
past. What I will attempt to show is, on the contrary, that eclecticism is
not an ahistorical and arbitrary handling of the past, but a radicalization
in the appropriation of the past by the present. In this sense, eclecticism
is a special version of totalizing proceedings, which could explain the shift
from historicism to modernity and to avant-garde.
II
III
The spiritualistic turn of late medievalism was not only a problem of shift-
ing ideas: it also involved changes related to the formal architectural lan-
guage. David Wilson’s contribution to this volume highlights several main
5 See David Wilson, “The Roots of Medievalism in North-West Europe: National Roman-
ticism, Architecture, Literature”, in this volume, at pp. 111–138.
6 This is also the case for the late neoromanesque churches.
7 Wilhelm Worringer, Abstraktion und Einfühlung. Ein Beitrag zur Stilpsycholo-
gie (München: Piper, 1907). This book is the published version of Worringer’s doctoral
dissertation.
8 Wilhelm Worringer, Formprobleme der Gotik (München: Piper, 1911).
9 Alois Riegl, Der moderne Denkmalkultus. Sein Wesen und seine Entstehung (Wien/
Leipzig: Braumüller, 1901). On Riegl, see Céline Trautmann-Waller, “Alois Riegl (1858–1905),”
IV
The first example that shows the link between Gothics and modernists is
the central role of glass, and related to this, of light. Light broken by col-
ored glass was, as we know, one of the themes of impressionist artists, and
also of neo-Gothics, who see in the interplay of lighting effects a symbol of
in Michel Espagne and Bénédicte Savoy (eds.), Dictionnaire des historiens d›art allemands
(Paris: CNRS Editions, 2010), 217–28.
10 Worringer, Formprobleme der Gotik, 72 ff.
11 Scheffler, Der Geist der Gotik, 109 ff.
the mystical union of sky and earth, of god and nature. For the modernists,
it was a central point. Among many others, Bruno Taut’s Glass Pavilion at
the 1914 Werkbund-Exhibition in Cologne offers a tremendously persua-
sive example.12 On the one hand, it was financed by the Association of
the German glass industry. The glass makers aimed to demonstrate the
possibilities of different types of glass (colored glasses, glass bricks, etc.)
for new architectural purposes. The structure, a multi-faceted polygon,
was made of concrete and glass bricks, the cupola had a complex design
of rhombic faces covered with colored glass projecting a kaleidoscope of
colors recalling and multiplying the effects of Gothic rosettes. Between the
lower and upper levels two staircases framed a cascading waterfall with
underwater lighting. The pavilion was a masterpiece of advanced indus-
trial techniques. On the other hand, the light effects aimed at triggering
emotions and at provoking the feeling of a spiritual utopia. The mystical
dimension of the construction was emphasized by several inscriptions
on the frieze due to the poet Paul Scheerbarth, who the same year pub-
lished his Glasarchitektur (architecture of glass) dedicated to Taut. Among
these verses one could read that “colored glass destroys hatred,” “without
a glass palace, life is a burden,” and “the light aims to cross the whole
universe and is coming to life within the crystal.” In an early drawing of
the pavilion, Taut himself noted that the project had to be conceived in
the spirit of a Gothic cathedral.13 More precisely, he wrote on the top of
another drawing of the project: “The Gothic cathedral is the prelude to the
architecture of glass.”14 This means that the new architecture was founded
upon the Gothic Cathedral, but intended to go far beyond. Combining
organic forms, verticality, geometry of nature, capture of dynamics and
forces coming from the universe, the new architecture aimed at dissolving
spatial limitations while dealing with spatial geometry and spatial compo-
nents. The fundamental element is the play of lights (Fig. 1 and Fig. 2).
My second example occurred five years later, in April 1919. Between the
two dates took place the First World War, the collapse of the European
system of states, of the first stages of European imperialism, and the end
of a certain idea of European civilization. The great War generated an
apocalyptic vision of European culture now rejected by the masses at a
level never before seen and a cynical contempt for individual values. The
shock caused by the war deeply affected Europeans’ self-understanding.
The world seemed broken. The creation of the Bauhaus in 1919 was one
of the solutions suggested by German artists and intellectuals to face the
new situation. The task was to invent the building of a new world. This
task Gropius, the director of the Bauhaus, could not imagine other than
under an architectural project. In his manifesto, which announced the
opening of the new institution, he argued:
The ultimate aim of all visual arts is the complete building! To embellish
buildings was once the noblest function of the fine arts; they were the indis-
pensable components of great architecture. Today the arts exist in isolation,
from which they can be rescued only through the conscious, cooperative
effort of all craftsmen. Architects, painters, and sculptors must recognize
anew and learn to grasp the composite character of a building both as an
entity and in its separate parts. Only then will their work be imbued with
the architectonic spirit which it has lost as “salon art.”
The old schools of art were unable to produce this unity; how could they,
since art cannot be taught. They must be merged once more with the work-
shop. The mere drawing and painting world of the pattern designer and the
applied artist must become a world that builds again. When young people
who take a joy in artistic creation once more begin their life’s work by learn-
ing a trade, then the unproductive “artist” will no longer be condemned to
deficient artistry, for their skill will now be preserved for the crafts, in which
they will be able to achieve excellence.
Architects, sculptors, painters, we all must return to the crafts! For art is
not a “profession.” There is no essential difference between the artist and
the craftsman. The artist is an exalted craftsman. In rare moments of inspi-
ration, transcending the consciousness of his will, the grace of heaven may
cause his work to blossom into art. But proficiency in a craft is essential to
every artist. Therein lies the prime source of creative imagination.
Let us then create a new guild of craftsmen without the class distinctions
that raise an arrogant barrier between craftsman and artist! Together let
us desire, conceive, and create the new structure of the future, which will
embrace architecture and sculpture and painting in one unity and which
will one day rise toward heaven from the hands of a million workers like
the crystal symbol of a new faith.15
This new philosophy of building was accompanied by Lyonel Feininger’s
woodcut of a cathedral on the cover of the manifesto: beams of light con-
verge upon the cathedral’s three spires, representing the three arts of paint-
ing, architecture (in the center) and sculpture. (Fig. 3) Two main elements
here are particularly important: The first is the symbolism of the cathedral
as an allegory of a total work of art and an emblematic figure of social and
spiritual unity. Taut had already used the drawing of a Gothic cathedral
spire to illustrate his book The City Crown.16 Especially in the disorder
and apocalyptic atmosphere following the War, the totalizing symbolism
of the Cathedral promised salvation by the creative act performed by the
community of artists and craftsmen under the direction of the architect
(Baumeister). The second, on a more technical level, was the great unity
of artists and craftsmen. This issue refers back to discussions held before
the war, especially within the Werkbund (and, at that time, related to the
British arts and crafts movement). But what was, in the 1900s, a debate on
industrial standardization and individual craftsmanship, now led back to
the world of the construction of cathedrals. The well-organized building
site where masters, companions and journeymen worked together harmo-
niously, constituted the model. The cathedral workshop (Dombauhütte),
where the pieces were shaped, appears as the idealized place of common
work. The religion of art no longer exists, but the concrete craft and work-
manship combine manual and intellectual activity. Thus the cathedral is
not only a symbolic representation of a unified world, but also a place for
the coordinated practices of creation. Of course, the totalizing metaphor
of the cathedral would be progressively abandoned by the Bauhaus, when
it challenged, in the middle of the twenties, the themes of “new objectiv-
ity.” But in the beginning, it fixed a “passage oblige,” a forced passage.
The third example returns to Bruno Taut. In autumn 1919, Taut formed
an association called Gläserne Kette (chain of glass) gathering 13 avant-
garde architects, among them Walter Gropius, Wassili and Hans Luck-
hardt, Max Taut, Hans Scharoun, Hermann Finsterlin and Hans Hansen.17
The idea was, in a period characterized by unemployment, to form a
chain of correspondences by exchanging letters, drawings, watercolors,
visual representations and, more generally, ideas. The members of the
chain adopted pen-names, Taut, for instance, choose Glas and Gropius
Maß (measure). Between November 1919 and December 1920, 84 letters
with attached documents were exchanged by the architects. They often
used programmatic formulas and wrote in a somewhat expressionist style.
One of the pieces sent by Taut was the drawing of a scenic play called
“Der Weltbaumeister. Architektur-Schauspiel für symphonische Musik”
18 (Essen: Folkwang Verlag). The text of the play is reproduced in Thiekötter, Kristallisa-
tionen, 65 ff., the pictures of scenes 1 to 13 and 21 in Stavrinaki, La chaîne de verre, 225–32.
Fig. 6. Bruno Taut, Der Weltbaumeister (1919), scenes 20 and 21 (the cathedral star
encountering the earth).
© 2013 Koninklijke Brill NV ISBN 978-90-04-24486-3
254 michael werner
Fig. 7. Bruno Taut, Glass Pavilion, top of the cupola with the crystal representing
the cathedral star.