Magdeburg Cathedral

Stand still for a moment on the wide square and look up. Two grey towers rise above you, their stone darkened by centuries of weather. Somewhere behind them the River Elbe runs north, and on a quiet morning you can hear jackdaws calling from the high ledges. The air near the walls feels cooler. This is Magdeburg Cathedral, dedicated to Saint Maurice and Saint Catherine, and it has watched over this riverbank for a very long time.

To understand why a church of this size stands here, start with one man: Otto the Great. In the tenth century, Otto was the most powerful ruler in the German lands. He later became Holy Roman Emperor, a title that linked him to the old idea of Rome. Otto loved Magdeburg. He founded a monastery here dedicated to Saint Maurice, and he pushed for the town to become the seat of an archbishop. That happened in 968. From then on, Magdeburg was a centre of the Church on the eastern edge of the empire.

Otto also wanted his church to look imperial. He had ancient columns brought from Italy, columns of polished stone that had once stood in Roman buildings. Here is the first surprise. When the later cathedral was built, the builders kept some of these columns and reused them in the choir, the area around the high altar. So when you walk inside, you can see stone that was already very old before the cathedral existed. It is a direct line back to Otto's ambitions.

That first Ottonian cathedral did not survive. In 1207 a great fire destroyed it. Only two years later, in 1209, work began on a new building. The builders chose a new style that was spreading from France: Gothic. Gothic architecture uses pointed arches, tall windows, and stone ribs that carry the weight of the vaults. Magdeburg's cathedral is often described as the first Gothic cathedral built on German soil. Look closely, though, and you will see older, rounder forms mixed in near the east end, because the masons were still learning the new ideas.

Building something this large took generations. The cathedral was consecrated in 1363, more than a century and a half after the fire. Even then it was not finished. The two west towers were only completed in 1520. Think about that span. People were born, worked on this site, and died without seeing it complete. Their sons and grandsons carried on. Today the towers reach roughly a hundred metres, and they still shape the skyline of the city.

Before you go inside, walk around to the north side and find the Paradise Portal. Here stand a group of thirteenth-century stone figures: the Wise and Foolish Virgins. They come from a parable in the Gospels about ten young women waiting for a bridegroom. Five prepared oil for their lamps, five did not. The sculptors gave them real faces. The wise virgins look calm and content. The foolish ones weep, frown, and turn away. Many visitors walk past them. They are worth a long look.

Now step inside. The first thing most people notice is the height, and then the light. The nave is long and tall, and the walls are mostly plain stone. Since the Reformation in the sixteenth century, this has been a Protestant church, and that shows in its calm, uncluttered feel. Much of the colourful decoration of a medieval Catholic interior is gone. What remains is the structure itself: piers, arches, and the long view toward the choir.

In the choir you will find the tomb of Otto the Great. It is surprisingly modest for an emperor, a simple marble slab. Nearby lies his first wife, Editha. She was an English princess, a granddaughter of Alfred the Great, sent across the sea to marry Otto. Here is the second surprise. In the early twenty-first century, researchers opened her tomb and studied the remains inside. Their analysis supported the idea that these really were the bones of the English queen who died in the tenth century.

Look also for a small, many-sided chapel inside the church. Within it sits a pair of crowned figures, a man and a woman, side by side. They date from the thirteenth century. They are traditionally identified as Otto and Editha, although scholars have offered other readings. Whoever they represent, they have a gentle, almost human presence. In the choir there is another remarkable statue: Saint Maurice, carved as an African man in armour. It is one of the earliest known depictions of a Black African in European sculpture.

The cathedral has seen dark days. In 1631, during the Thirty Years' War, imperial troops stormed Magdeburg and much of the city burned. It was one of the worst massacres of that long conflict. According to accounts from the time, a crowd of townspeople took shelter inside the cathedral, and they survived. Centuries later, in January 1945, bombing raids devastated Magdeburg again. The cathedral was damaged, but it was repaired after the war, while much of the old city around it was not.

One more work deserves your attention. In the nave stands a memorial by the sculptor Ernst Barlach, made after the First World War. It shows soldiers and grieving figures in carved wood, without any heroic pose. They look tired, frightened, and sad. In the Nazi years the memorial was removed from the cathedral, because it did not glorify war. After the Second World War it came back. Standing in front of it, many visitors find it more moving than any triumphal monument.

When you leave, take a few minutes outside. The cathedral square is broad and open, and archaeologists have found traces of earlier buildings beneath it, including remains linked to Otto's time. Walk a short distance toward the Elbe. From the riverside paths the towers rise above the trees, and you can see how the church was placed to be seen from far away. In the evening, the stone turns warm and golden for a short while.

So take one last look. The towers in front of you were finished five centuries ago. The columns inside are older still, carried here from Italy for a king who wanted his town to feel like Rome. The stone has survived fire, war, and long neglect. As you walk away, listen for the jackdaws on the ledges, and the bells if they ring. They have been part of this place for a very long time.