Sacred Buildings and Liturgical Life in Merano

Ecclesiastical News.

Tyrol.

Merano, in March. Amid all the southern character of lush, beautiful nature, the people here maintain a northern calm that presents itself in a truly winning manner within the blossom-rich garb of almost eternal spring. Once the good German spirit, this gift of heaven, has taken root somewhere and permeated minds, foreign whims and mischievousness can never erase it. The separated waves of our intellectual antipodes are beginning once more to flow quietly into one another; the dividing line is now merely imaginary, and so we believe we can already discern, upon the ruins of the hated temple of Janus, the Christian handshake of German mutual understanding. But of the peaceful disposition of the people of Merano you will be convinced when I tell you what thoughts and works have occupied the people here recently, and what, as we hope, will stir them again this spring.

For a long time past, a building project of significance had become necessary at the local parish church. The citizens of Merano, possessing as much sense for the beautiful as for the good, demonstrated through general participation, by word and deed, how much they cared to preserve this noble monument of a golden epoch in Merano's history and restore it to a new, rejuvenated form. Even if the work is not yet completed, much that is gratifying has already occurred, and much that is desirable is in prospect; and we gladly express our full appreciation and most heartfelt praise.

As we step into this solemn sanctuary, we now fully perceive the great impression that the German architectural style makes upon a thoughtful spirit. Lofty, spacious areas fill the heart with the sensation of infinity; grave forms and cleanliness produce the most salutary effect, and thought rises effortlessly along the tall pillars that aspire upwards like slender palms, spreading their branches above, through which the blue sky peeks ¹). — Even if the altars do not stand in fine harmony with the style of the church, as the massive high altar in particular still obstructs the vista and the fine perspective on account of its height, the viewing eye is no longer unsettled by any other tasteless ecclesiastical furnishings. The disruptive tower-like mass above the pulpit has been removed, and in its place a new Gothic canopy has been affixed, crafted by the skillful hand of Flieher. The pulpit itself stands once again in its original beauty, the wretched veil having been removed from the carved stonework.

We must not depart from this church without also mentioning the solemn divine service on Sundays and feast days. The entire beauty and sublimity of the Catholic rite unfolds here before the devout congregation. We allow ourselves merely to recall the recent celebration of the Forty Hours' Devotion, where the elite of local preachers, the reverend Dean, Beda Weber, and Pius Zingerle, delighted and edified us with their elevated sacred eloquence.

The local church music, which out of modesty toward that of other towns in our country I shall merely call excellent, contributes not a little to the splendor and majesty of the divine service, particularly as the artistic sense of the present Dean makes it possible to perform larger sacred musical works as well. The elevated interpretation and precise execution of the masses of Haydn, Aiblinger, and other sacred composers of old and modern times deserve the fullest recognition. Only one thing might be wished: namely, to be able to hear the vocal quartet thrown upon its own resources and accompanied solely by the sounds of the organ, as an alternation with the instrumental music.

We now leave this temple in a gratifying mood and wander toward another, which claims the attention of connoisseurs of art to an even greater degree. Yet we cannot pass by the tower of the former without comment, or overlook it entirely; it is the highest in the land and possesses all manner of other virtues and defects. Since little store is set here by foreign criticism, it seems more expedient to have it described by a domestic author, whose praise and blame no one can challenge: »Special attention is owed to the ancient church tower, which is almost without doubt the highest in the land. It rests upon a simple vaulted arch beneath which the public road passes — a true masterpiece of architecture! Unfortunately, it was stripped of its natural, venerable color by a barbarous hand and — absurdly enough — whitewashed with lime« (Staffler, Part II, Vol. 2). This reproach of barbarism, although by no means directed at the present generation, lies as heavily on my heart as on that of any citizen of Merano; I indulge, however, in the hope that the newly awakened artistic sense will soon make amends for what an old, corrupted taste committed. Well then, clothe the proud tower once more in its ancient, grave festive attire, and for centuries it will stand again as a witness to Merano's long-vanished, now returning renown!

If the plan to relocate the cemetery outside the town, which has become necessary owing to the confinement of the site and for sanitary reasons, reaches a final conclusion, the minster of Merano will also gain a square worthy of its beauty, of which one can only think with enthusiasm. Unfortunately, a cruel death has deprived us of the two greatest benefactors of this undertaking.

The other house of God to which we would now like to devote a few well-meant words is the Hospital Church. The beauty and purity of the German form in which this church was built have already been described often enough. The handsome portal, the valuable stained-glass windows, the slender pillars, the stone pulpit have never been forgotten; now one suddenly heard of new structural alterations to be undertaken in this church. I was foolish enough to believe that tasteful Gothic altars had perhaps been ordered from Master Schönlaub in Munich; but I was soon taught otherwise. It was merely a question of a better and more spacious place for the organ. But where in the church is there a more suitable place than where it stands now? To be sure, on account of the limited space the double basses cannot stand comfortably and the trombones cannot make their vigorous slides; yet grant us the enjoyment of their excellent vocal choir, and on the few Sundays and feast days celebrated in this church we will gladly forgo the power of the double basses and trombones. Others said a raised gallery must be built for the residents of the hospital! In my opinion, these poor people should be allowed to perform their devotions in the future where they have done so since 1483. To be sure, the presence of the unfortunate is seldom gratifying to the fortunate; but one should never be prompted to make such an observation, least of all in a church, where what matters is not a well-coiffed head, but a pure heart. Equally dispensable, and objectionable as unsightly, seem to me the palisades by which the hospital section is marked off. Those who require such arrangements can easily be dispensed from attending Mass. Finally, how the construction of an upper gallery would harmonize with the fine and precisely calculated proportions of the interior of this church may be judged by anyone whose imagination is capable of picturing a gallery where the evening rays of the sun now fall into the sanctuary through the delicately traceried rose window. »What is to remain standing must stand properly. One may always make mistakes, but one must not build any.« (Goethe.) Sch.

¹) With the question whether a blue ground is admissible or inadmissible in churches of the German style,

I do not wish to concern myself. An esteemed correspondent of your paper finds it incompatible

with the lofty gravity of these temples, and might well ask in his justification: In how many German cathedrals does one find this coloring? In the Munich Au Church, perhaps?