The Queen of the Hanse
In the heart of the Hanseatic League, we were reminded that in some places assumptions are invalid, and cash is still king.
Lübeck, Germany
June 14, 2023
The sail-away from Stockholm was happy consolation for our short stay in that remarkable town.
The archipelago is incredible. With Alaska’s glaciers and Panama’s canal, it’s among the more captivating sights we’ve seen from a ship.
Extending forty miles from the city to the sea, this assemblage of islands is of recent geologic vintage. A product of post-glacial rebound (when receding ice permits land to rise), the current configuration is only since the Viking era.
At a annual rate of three millimeters, these islands continue to rise. Ascending with them are scattered fishermen, annual tourists, and a few forts.
We passed within a few feet of one. Fredriksborg fortress was established in the early 18th century to protect Stockholm from Russian colonists. We slipped by with no trouble, even with my Russian wife.
But the Russians weren’t the only antagonists who harassed the Swedes. We spent this afternoon in another town that caused them trouble.
This was the first day anything was wrong with the weather. But only because I was under it. Otherwise, conditions remain immaculate.
Since clouds cleared our first afternoon in Amsterdam, they’ve completely abandoned Baltic skies. Under such ideal conditions, we’ve returned to Germany, and docked In Kiel.
To pass a day, options seemed slim in that commercial port. We considered going to Hamburg. But as with Berlin last week, it was too far…and too big…for a few hours to be worthwhile.
So we opted for Lübeck. It was still a dull 90-minute bus ride. But the city size was more manageable, and its history fit with our Medieval theme the last couple weeks.
Our voyage thru the Baltic has carried us around the Hanseatic League. From Amsterdam in the west, Estonia in the east, and Visby in the middle, we’ve hit many cogs in this mercantile wheel.
Today, we went to the hub. We saw the hamlet that in its heyday was known as “Queen of the Hanse.” The Emperor Charles IV lumped it with Rome, Pisa, Florence, and Venice as among the five “Glories of the Empire.”
For these reasons, many historians consider Lübeck to be the founding member of the Hanseatic League. But we can’t be sure.
The league emerged from Medieval mist. There was no formal “founding”, so we don’t know when it was established, or by whom.
It was an oligopoly of Germanic towns that eventually expanded around the Baltic. The Germans called these merchant alliances “hanses”, meaning “unions” or “guilds”. At its 14th century height the League almost monopolized the Baltic and controlled the mouths of its great rivers.
“Lübeck Law” was adopted by scores of towns, lending credence to the city’s claim to be cradle of the Hanse.
That makes superficial sense. We’ve seen Lübeck’s fingerprints most everywhere we’ve been. These Teutonic troublemakers meddled in Bornholm, Estonia, Rostock and Visby.
The city was founded in 1158 as an outpost of war and trade with Scandinavia. Under the camouflage of commerce, its “merchants” cross-crossed the Baltic and engaged in conquest.
The herring trade was essential to early growth. Lübeckers acknowledged its importance by carving that fish on their pews.
But by the 15th century, herring began to spawn in the North Sea rather than the Baltic, taking its trade from the Hanse to Holland. Amsterdam rose as Lübeck fell.
In 1519, as we saw in Stockholm, Sweden’s Gustavas Vasa came to Lübeck to escape the Danes. From this town he received money and a ship to return to Sweden.
Like Sweden, Lübeck declared war on Denmark, in retribution for King Christian’s crusades against Hanseatic shipping. After the Thirty Years War and the rising influence of Atlantic trade, the city declined.
For several centuries, it receded from world affairs. In the 20th century, world affairs found Lübeck. The city was heavily damaged by RAF bombings during the Second World War, with incendiary devices destroying several churches and much of the old city.
Rebuilding continued for forty years, till Lübeck was restored to the Medieval conditions we saw today.
We parked just outside the Holsten Gate, crossed the bridge, and entered the island village at the mouth of the Trave.
The twin spires of Mariankirche dominate the town. Emblematic of “brick Gothic”, the Medieval basilica was built in the 13th century, and barely survived the Second World War.
When constructed, this was the only brick church vault built this high. Eight centuries later, soaring 126 feet over the central nave, it still is. Inspired by French churches across the Rhine, buttresses were added to support the lateral thrust of the ambitious vault.
Sadly, as throughout most of Europe, the great cathedrals and ancient churches have been reduced mainly to museums. And in Protestant Germany, most of those are as devoid of art as they are of congregants.
But local architecture remains impressive. From Mariankirche, we entered the town square and found the Rathaus. The impressive façade grew by accretion, with ornate spires adorning Renaissance arcades atop the initial Gothic brick.
Beyond the square, the bustling Mühlenstraße yielded to several floral alleys surrounding Aegidienkirche dedicated to St Giles.
The tranquil blocks between this quiet church and the placid river were among the more peaceful and colorful in Lübeck.
As we walked, thirst overcame us, and we learned how assumptions could lead us astray. Plenty of places sold water. But almost none allowed us to buy it.
Whereas Stockholm essentially prohibited cash, at many Lübeck businesses it’s almost mandatory. Dozens of bars, cafés, markets, and restaurants all resisted plastic. Each also refused US dollars, which wasn’t a surprise…but was certainly no help.
My parched wife was seeking any oasis in this Deutsch desert. I popped my head into a small bar where the proprietor…like many in this part of north Germany…spoke no English.
Imagine the nerve of these Prussian provincials! Not speaking our language in their country!
If we’d be speaking German if not for Allied victory in two world wars, why aren’t the vanquished Huns not compelled to speak ‘Murican?
Fortunately, a pointed index finger, like an extended middle one, is the same in all languages. I followed his signal to a café across the street.
There the young man behind the counter at Lübecker Speicher-Rösterei (a roastery and pastry place we’ll never forget) made our day by selling us water. We thanked him by also buying a few desserts.
After washing them down, we returned across the river, and boarded our bus. Within a couple hours, we were back in Kiel.
We wandered toward St Nikolai Church, where we were turned away by construction workers renovating the interior. We vacated immediately. When orders are given in adamant German, we ask few questions.
Having affirmed Kiel had little to offer, we boarded the ship, poured a drink, and departed the Hanse amid a flock of seagulls and a flotilla of sails.
JD