An Ancient City and Kingdom: Munich
"Munich, since I was a little girl there, has become a center of art and music. She attracts students from all over the world..."
Note: This article has been excerpted from a larger work in the public domain and shared here due to its historical value. It may contain outdated ideas and language that do not reflect TOTA’s opinions and beliefs.
From When I Was a Girl in Bavaria, by Bertha Tauber Harper, 1932.
An Ancient City and Ancient Kingdom
My native city was Munich, the capital of Bavaria. American tourists have called it “the City of Friendship” because of its friendly atmosphere and its cordial inhabitants. The Bavarians call it “the Isar Athens” from that lively, turbulent mountain stream, the Isar, which, gushing forth from the Alps, rushes right through the city, and because of the beautiful Greek architecture with which the kings of Bavaria embellished this far-famed city.
Munich, since I was a little girl there, has become a center of art and music. She attracts students from all over the world to her great art treasures, her art academies, conservatories of music, medical schools, and great museums. Munich has also one of the largest and best-attended universities. Her beautiful streets and parks, the numerous monuments and fountains scattered all over the city, and a certain Gemuthlichkeit, for which there is no equivalent word in other languages, but which means an air of welcome and cordiality, make it a place where visitors usually love to linger longer than they had intended.
The city was founded in 1158 by monks. The name Muenchen was derived from the word Monch (monk). It was later called “Monaco” by the invading Romans. The age-blackened cathedral, the famous Frauenkirche, is a silent testimony to Munich’s great antiquity, for it was completed four years before America was discovered. Its rounded towers can be seen afar from every direction.
These towers and a gigantic bronze arm holding a laurel wreath are the first indications to the traveler that he is approaching Munich. The arm with the wreath, which is usually inhabited by numerous sparrow families, belongs to the colossal bronze statue of the Bavaria, one of the largest monuments in the world. My father was present when it was erected in sections, and he once counted twenty-eight men and two boys crawling out of the Bavaria’s head. A huge lion, the emblem of Bavaria, sits majestically at her side. One can go into the interior of the statue, up some sixty-five steps, and into the head, from which he can obtain a magnificent panorama of the city, the wooded Isar Valley, and the snow-capped Alps.
Bavaria, which is in the southern part of Germany, took its name, so the legend tells us, from an enterprising young traveler by the name of Baioarius, who wandered westward from Armenia with a crowd of followers, and found a land that was fertile and good to behold, and a peaceful people who cultivated the soil and lived on fish and game. These new arrivals established themselves in this promised land and called it Boiaria after their leader. And it has been the garden spot of Europe ever since.
In 955, the Huns, a savage tribe of Hungarians who lived farther down the Danube, broke into Bavaria and ravaged the little country from east to west. They were finally driven back, but Bavaria was in constant danger of invasion by her neighbors, particularly by the Austrians and the Huns. This aroused the belligerent spirit of the people. They became great fighters, and to this day they are known for their courage, their daring, and their endurance.
The conflicts with invading tribes lasted for centuries. This caused the Bavarians to erect walls and moats around their little settlements and to build their small houses close together for protection. This is why, to-day, the traveler finds the little Bavarian country towns with their stone houses and narrow streets so closely packed that, from a distance, they have the aspect of toy villages.
Munich might never have been the beautiful and far-famed capital city of Bavaria, had it not been for an elector who occupied a settlement farther up the river Isar, called Foehring, and who got into a dispute with Grand Duke Henry about the tolls for the salt transport. The salt then came from the big salt mines at Reichenhall, a small town in the Bavarian Alps. To avoid further trouble with the Grand Duke, the elector destroyed the little marketplace, Foehring, and moved to the small village which belonged to the monks. That was in 1157.
The elector’s name was Otto von Wittelsbach. Later, the dynasty of the Bavarian princes took the name of Wittelsbach, and for nearly seven hundred years they reigned over the little country of Bavaria.
In 1796 Napoleon Bonaparte dispatched a powerful army to devastate Bavaria and to take possession of Munich. But in 1800 Bavaria became an ally of France and was made into a kingdom.
The first king of the House of Wittelsbach was Maximilian Joseph I. He was much beloved, for he was a most cordial, unpretentious monarch, who loved to mingle with the people. It is said of him that on one occasion he showed himself at the annual Volksfest in Munich, which was, and is to this day, held every October on a great meadow, called Die October Wiese. He is described as appearing in a simple Napoleonic coat, gray tight-fitting breeches, and high boots. A pair of large gold earrings dangled from his ears. Thus the portly monarch meandered leisurely from booth to booth, now and then slapping some elderly gentleman on the shoulder and exchanging drinks with him.
A citizen of Munich stepped out of the crowd. He approached the king, familiarly tapped him on the shoulder, and offered him a drink out of his stein, saying: “Ah, Maxi, we are so glad thou art with us to-day!” The king laughed good-naturedly and drank the foaming beverage out of the fellow’s mug.
His wife, Queen Karoline, a Hessian princess, was as much beloved. She devoted herself exclusively to the education of their son, Ludwig I, and to her domestic duties. (I may mention here that my grandmother on my father’s side, who was a von Johler, was, in her young days, lady-in-waiting to this queen. Through her, many royal souvenirs, such as table linen once used at the royal table in the early eighties, have come down to me and are yet among my treasured possessions.)
This Crown Prince Ludwig showed, at an early age, his great love for art treasures and beautiful architecture. When he was twenty-four years old, he sketched the plans for an ideal art museum, the Glyptothek, which now contains some of the most famous sculptures of ancient Greece and Rome, and which is one of the chief attractions of Munich. It was also this beauty-loving Ludwig who erected the magnificent Propylaen and the Art Exhibition buildings, all on the same vast and imposing plaza. Then were built the two Pinakotheks, whose priceless paintings of old and new masters are visited by thousands every year.
The Hoftheater, the Royal Theater, a most beautiful and dignified building, adorns a large square and adjoins the royal palace. This large palace was built near the end of the sixteenth century. Until 1918 it was the home of the Wittelsbachs, but now it is a museum, open to the public for a small admission fee. Throngs of sight-seers now marvel at its magnificent rooms, at the rare paintings on the walls of its galleries, and at the huge and exquisitely executed tapestries, depicting scenes from Bavarian and old German history, and worked, for the most part, by former princesses. One is overawed by the splendor and wealth of the many rooms, by the gilded furniture, the heavy damask draperies, the allegoric paintings on the ceilings, the marble statuary on all sides, the many gold and silver chandeliers, and by the mirror room, where one meets oneself in every direction.
Yet, as we view the royal bedchambers with their heavy gilded furniture, we wonder how the princes of former days performed their ablutions. with only a wash-bowl and a pitcher, and we think gratefully of our modern conveniences, and would not exchange them for all the magnificence of royal dwellings.
This royal palace has six courtyards, with gardens, fountains, grottoes, and statuary. In one of these squares there is a large monument to Otto von Wittelsbach, surrounded by mythological figures.
One becomes weary of beholding so much splendor. Emerging from the royal palace, one gladly turns into a quiet street with its rows of ornamental trees and shrubs and its islands of flowers and statuary. Americans are surprised to see their native corn plants used as ornamental shrubs around the statues on Munich’s boulevards. But these corn plants never reach a stage of maturity there, as the nights are too cold. To the citizens of Munich they look tropical.
One can go very few blocks in Munich without coming upon some noble piece of architecture, the creation of that beauty-loving mind of Ludwig I. Even the ornamental stone bridges across the Isar are surmounted by Greek statues. On the other side of the river, facing one of the finest bridges, stretches a long imposing building with rows and rows of arcs. This is the Maximilianeum, formerly a school for training pages, but now used for other educational purposes. Books could be devoted to a description of all the beautiful edifices with which this king embellished Munich, making it one of the proudest cities in Europe.
Though the people were appreciative of his untiring ambitions, they nevertheless forced him to abdicate. The Bavarians are by nature straightforward, honest, conscientious, and law-abiding, but intolerant in matters of wrongdoing, and unhesitating in meting out punishment. For instance, to this day they uphold the custom of taking justice into their own hands in small villages, whenever a criminal act has been committed. On a still night, a horde of villagers, equipped with tin pans and every possible noise-making instrument, will assemble before the culprit’s house and will make a terrific din until he appears at his door. He must then listen to a loudly read recital of his misdoings and must promise to reform, or he will be driven out of the village. He usually reforms. They call this mode of punishment Haberfeldtreiben.
King Ludwig fared no better. His subjects disapproved of his friendship with the Spanish dancer, Lola Montez. They first gave him warning by jeering him on the streets whenever he showed himself. Then, one morning, a mass of angry people assembled in front of the royal residence, called loudly for his appearance, and threw stones into the large windows of the palace. They kept up this demonstration until he appeared on a balcony. Loudly and earnestly he was requested to abdicate right then and there, in favor of his son Maximilian II. He did abdicate. That was in 1848. (My mother, a young girl then, was in the crowd and witnessed the proceedings. She picked up one of the pieces of window glass and kept it as a souvenir. It was fully an inch thick.)
Maximilian II thus ascended the throne. He was a studious man, and said of himself: “ Were I not born to a royal cradle, I would much rather be a professor than a king.” He was very plain and of simple habits. He and his wife, Queen Maria, believed in bringing up their unusually handsome children, Ludwig and Otto, in strict discipline. The young princes were never allowed sweetmeats, nor were they permitted to keep late hours. For pocket money they were given the equivalent of ten cents a week. A devoted nursery maid occasionally brought them candy on the sly.
Crown Prince Ludwig showed, early in life, his great love for music, poetry, and solitude. He was an idealist, a dreamer. He was barely twenty years old when his father, Maximilian II, died, and Ludwig had to ascend the Bavarian throne. He showed little inclination to assume the responsibilities of a king. He would rather roam about in the mountains or listen to beautiful music than attend to the affairs of state, which bored him. He seldom showed himself to the public, to the great disappointment of his people, who appreciated his personal charm and his goodness of heart. In order not to show himself at the opera, he often waited until the performance was over and then had the whole opera repeated to him alone, a solitary figure in the king’s loge. But he always rewarded the singers most liberally for their extra trouble.
He was known to be very lavish in bestowing gifts, especially at Christmas time, to any needy persons he happened to hear of, and in helping struggling artists and musicians. He was the great promoter of Richard Wagner, whom he enabled, through generous contributions, to carry out his loftiest plans in creating his masterpieces— Lohengrin, Tannhauser, Parsifal , and Die Meistersinger.
Ludwig had wonderful ideas of beauty and harmony and gave them shape by erecting the most enchanting castles, of which we shall speak later. In 1886 he came to a very tragic end by drowning. How it happened will ever be a mystery.
His natural successor, his brother Otto, had become an incurable mental invalid, so the Bavarian regency went to the next of kin, their uncle Luitpold. But Bavaria had ceased, since 1871, to be an independent kingdom.
It was this same Ludwig II who, at the close of the Franco-Prussian war, had proposed that there should be one united Germany and that the little separate kingdoms should be a part of the German Empire.
The Munich of to-day is a great center of attraction during the months of July and August, when the Music Festivals take place. The city is then alive with thousands of tourists from all over the world, who come to hear the grand operas, especially those of Wagner given in the spacious Regenten Theater, which was built for these occasions. An air of good cheer prevails all over the city. Everybody seems to feel at home among the good-natured inhabitants with their keen sense of humor, their Gemuthlichkeit, and their lack of mercenary spirit.
After the opera nearly all present go to the famous Hofhrauhaus (the royal brewery) to refresh themselves with the renowned Munich beer. And there the most democratic spirit prevails. No class distinction is known. The professor or the diplomat sits next to the laborer or the chimney sweep. Everybody is friendly to his neighbor. When there is no more room in the vast hall, people sit outdoors around beer barrels as best they can, and laugh and chat as if they were old acquaintances. Waitresses in neat peasant costume hurry around to fill empty steins. Old women peddle radishes. Everything is cheerful and orderly. No disturbances take place among these mixed crowds, no inebriate is seen. The Munich beverage is known to be unadulterated and harmless.
Strangers who chance to be in the neighborhood of the “Marienplatz,” the great square in which stands the City Hall, around eleven o’clock in the morning will wonder why all traffic is blocked, why thousands of eager faces are turned upward, watching the tower of the Rathhaus.
Presently the door of the big clock opens. Two figures representing old-time coopers emerge and announce the hour of eleven by striking their hammers upon barrels. Then come forth in solemn procession the twelve apostles, one after another. They make their rounds and disappear into the clock house.
A lower door now opens and out comes a jolly crowd of coopers, dancing merrily and swinging garlands of flowers. They, too, disappear into the interior of the clock house. And while gay music is playing, a clown with horned cap and sharply pointed shoes dances in front of the clock and makes grimaces at the crowd below.
To produce this marvelous mechanism required seven years of work on the part of skillful sculptors and master mechanics. No visitor to Munich should miss this extraordinary spectacle.
Nor should he depart without seeing the Deutsche Museum, which is on an island in the Isar. If one were to cover the space within this museum, which houses one of the most wonderful collections of man’s products that has ever been assembled, one would have to walk nine miles. There one can see everything, from the first crude efforts of humans to make themselves a home in caves, to the most modern of conveniences. One can see, in the Planetarium, how the universe revolves. Each department has skilled instructors to explain the workings and the significance of its displays. Of course, it would take weeks to see all that the great museum contains.
Several of the ancient city gates and sections of old walls that were built as far back as 1300 a. d. remain standing as landmarks of Munich’s past. But little white and blue trolleys now run through these gates, behind which, in hoary ages, armored warriors stood ready to ward off the invader with formidable lances and huge rocks.
Harper, Bertha Tauber. When I Was a Girl in Bavaria. Lothrop, Lee, and Shepard Co., 1932.
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