If you are journeying downstream (east) on the Danube, you will encounter Melk Abbey at the western entrance to the Wachau Valley. If you are traveling upstream, as we were, Melk Abbey is the last outpost in the Wachau Valley and marks the transition to the Nibelungengau, another scenic section of the Danube which, together with the Wachau, forms the Wachau-Nibelungengau tourism region. If “Nibelungengau” sounds familiar to fans of Wagnerian opera, it’s because the area was a setting for some of the action in the great German medieval epic of the Nibelungenlied. A word of caution: if you’re a fan of Wagnerian opera, be warned that the plot of the Ring cycle is very different from the German medieval epic. The Nibelungenlied was originally written in Middle High German around 1200 but is based on events of the 5th century CE involving the German kingdom of Burgundy and the Huns, whereas Wagner took his inspiration primarily from Norse mythology. The author of the epic poem Nibelungenlied is unknown, but is thought to have been from the region of Passau, a German city higher up on the Danube where the Monarch Queen would dock the next day. Unlike the Wagnerian Ring cycle, the Nibelungenlied poem does not envisage the end of the world. But there is plenty of sex, blood and gore in it nonetheless.
As it flows east from Passau, which is on the border of Austria and Germany, the Danube takes a turn to the northeast when it reaches the Wachau Valley. The town of Melk lies on the south bank of the Danube just as it starts to make that northeast turn, and Melk Abbey is on a rocky outcrop high above, overlooking the river. It is a striking setting.
Austria began as a defensive zone or “mark” intended to provide a bulwark against the ravages of the Magyars, who began their incursions in the late 9th century CE, paralleling (and hastening) the disintegration of the empire of Charlemagne. A series of fortified centers were built which offered protection to the local population, which in turn had to support the fortress. Melk was one such fortress, and for a time the most important, after Leopold I (r. 976-984), first of the Babenbergs, made it his headquarters in 984 and likely brought in a group of priests (termed “canons regular”) to provide spiritual guidance and jump-start the economy. The Babenbergs later moved east, eventually making their capital at Vienna. But in the meantime Melk became a spiritual center as well as a political and economic center.
In 1012 an Irish monk named Colman (Koloman in German) went on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. To get there he took a route similar to that which Richard I the Lion-Hearted used in trying to return from the Holy Land a couple of centuries later, and met an even worse fate. Colman was mistaken for a spy at Stockerau and hanged. But following his death, reports of miracles associated with his burial site began to be reported, and the local population, perhaps in remorse for his unjust execution, began to venerate his remains. Getting wind of this, so to speak, in 1014 Henry I (r. 994-1018), Leopold I’s successor as Margrave of Austria, had Colman’s remains transferred to Melk, so that he could have a saint who would sanctify his fortress and the Austrian mark. Koloman did indeed become the patron saint of Austria, for a while; Melk became a center of his saintly cult, and its religious community continued to grow in importance from then on, aided and abetted by donations of religious relics from the Babenbergs. The next Margrave of Austria, Adalbert I (r. 1018-1055), donated a splinter supposedly from the Cross of Christ, which was set in a matrix of precious stones and is now known as the Melk Cross. The actual foundation of Melk Abbey took place in 1089, in the reign of Margrave Leopold II (1075-1095), who donated the land for the monastery.
Over the following centuries, as the Babenbergs became Dukes of Austria and then were replaced by the Habsburgs, Melk became one of the richest and most renowned monasteries in Europe. I first encountered mention of it in Umberto Eco’s novel The Name of the Rose, which was made into a film starring Sean Connery. Published in 1980, the novel has as one of its two main protagonists Adso of Melk, who accompanies a scholar named William of Baskerville (played by Sean Connery in the movie) in a quest to solve a series of murders in an Italian monastery early in the 14th century. William and Adso solve the murders, but in the end the monastery burns down and with it its magnificent library, destroying scores of precious and irreplaceable documents from antiquity. The denouement bears an eerie parallel to the fate of Melk Abbey, where the library burned down in 1297 and many important documents were lost. Unlike the fictional Italian monastery, however, Melk recovered and went on to instigate a major religious reform movement in the 15th century. The Melk Reform movement greatly reinvigorated monastic life in Austria and southern Germany, and perhaps as a result the Catholic Church in those areas was better prepared to resist and reverse the spread of Protestantism in the 16th century. In any case, Melk Abbey survived the travails of the Reformation, as well as the Thirty Years’ War (1718-1748) and the Turkish wars which followed, and managed to prosper.
Nevertheless, its physical condition had by the end of the 17th century so deteriorated that a great deal of reconstruction and rebuilding was needed. Between 1702 and 1736 such a renewal took place under the auspices of an extremely energetic and able abbot, Berthold Dietmayr, and a talented architect, Jakob Prandtauer. This was now the Baroque era, and Melk Abbey as we see it today is a legacy of that period. It is considered one of the finest achievements of that era. Unfortunately, in 1738 another huge fire destroyed much of the new work, but it was redone in the succeeding years and in fact one of the jewels of the abbey, the Baroque Garden Pavilion, was created during this period.
Along with the reconstruction, Melk Abbey became a center of intellectual activity, especially during the time of Joseph II, when the ideas of the Enlightenment became the guiding light of the ruling regime. But this era also brought new difficulties. In an orgy of centralization the government required all theological instruction to be conducted in the main seminary in Vienna and closed Melk’s theological seminary. New “commender abbots” and other staff appointed by the emperor ran roughshod over the abbey’s traditions. Josephinian parish reforms resulted in the assignment of many new parishes to Melk, which brought new financial burdens which the abbey was not equipped to cope with, so it fell into debt.
Despite all these challenges, Melk Abbey survived the era of Joseph II. It also survived the Napoleonic wars, the end of serfdom and the manorial system (from which it derived its income) in the 19th century. Even after the breakup of the Habsburg Empire following World War I, when the abbey lost its estates in Hungary and other resources, it managed to muddle through by expedients such as selling its Gutenberg Bible. It even managed to install modern plumbing and electricity during that period.
But the advent of National Socialism in 1938 brought more serious threats to its existence. The Nazis confiscated the monastery school and most of the facilities, leaving only a small part of the complex to serve as an abbey. They drafted the able-bodied monks into the army and threatened to dissolve the monastery altogether. The defeat of Nazi Germany removed this shadow, and in the aftermath the abbey escaped serious damage from the occupying armies, although the troops stole and drank most of the wine in the cellars.
During in the postwar period Melk Abbey regained the school and other facilities expropriated by the Nazis, but then it encountered new challenges. A serious fire damaged the abbey in 1974, and a new reconstruction had to be undertaken. This occurred during a time when the abbey found that it was becoming increasingly less possible to survive on its traditional sources of income, agriculture and forestry, and had lost some of its remaining property to a Danube powerplant project. One solution was an increasing reliance on tourism as a source of income, and part of that was to build a new parking lot, which was of course where our Gate1 bus brought us, as well as new gardens and a restaurant.
Debarking from the bus, we descended a great staircase and embarked upon a wide straight path through a garden area, passing what used to be an orangery but is now the monastery restaurant, which can accommodate up to 600 people. The path took us to the main portal of the monastery.
Flanking the main portal are two bulky, frowning structures which tower higher than the portal itself and almost dwarf it. The one on the left, the South Bastion, was built for defense in 1650. The Thirty Years’ War had ended in 1648, but the Ottoman Empire was still a threat from the east, and in fact the bastion served its purpose in helping to stave off the Turkish onslaught of 1683. The North Bastion was added much later for symmetry.
On either side of the gate are statues of the two patron saints of the Abbey, St. Koloman on the left and St. Leopold on the right. In the 17th century the Austrians decided that having an Irishman as their patron saint was unseemly, so in 1663 they replaced St. Koloman in that capacity with one of their own, Leopold III the Good (1073-1136) of the House of Babenberg, Margrave of Austria from 1095 to 1136. But St. Koloman continued to be venerated in Melk, and his remains are interred there. The statues at the Melk portal date from 1716. The portal itself was completed in 1718.
On the roof of the portal structure are two angels, each holding a key to the Abbey, and between them, on the apex, is a golden star, copied from the coat of arms of Berthold Dietmayr, the abbot responsible for the reconstruction of the Abbey in the early 18th century.
Passing through the portal, we found ourselves in the outer courtyard, known as the Gatekeeper’s Courtyard, looking at the eastern fa
Entering through the archway, we found ourselves in Benedict Hall. Thus far I have neglected to mention that Melk Abbey belongs to the Order of St. Benedict. Benedict of Nursia (480-547 CE) is considered the founding father of Western (Latin Christian) monasticism. Most monasteries founded in medieval Europe followed the Benedictine rule. Benedict Hall in Melk Abbey is simple and elegant, two stories high with a balustrade running around the second floor. The hall is almost bare except for the ceiling, which features a splendid fresco depicting St. Benedict on top of a mountain with a temple and a cross. Unfortunately, I didn’t manage to fit all of the fresco into my photo of the hall.
From Benedict Hall we emerged into the Prelate’s Courtyard. This is the largest courtyard and has some rather unusual features that are worth describing. Coming into the courtyard from Benedict Hall, one’s eye is first drawn to the imposing dome of the abbey church, rising above the roof on the far side of the court, then to the cornice atop the wall, which is topped with sculptures of saints and features a colorful fresco in the center. If you turn your gaze to the other walls of the courtyard, you will find that each of them has a similar cornice with its own fresco. Although the cornices with their statues are Baroque and part of the original 18th-century construction, the frescoes are modern and recent. During the restoration of the 1980s it was found that the existing Baroque frescoes had deteriorated too much to be restored, so they were replaced in 1988 by new ones created by Peter Bischoff. The original frescoes represented the four cardinal virtues, and so do the new ones: Prudence, Temperance, Justice and Fortitude. The introduction of modern art into the Baroque setting, though intended to harmonize as closely as possible, was somewhat controversial but I find that it works well enough.
The fresco on the west side of the courtyard, beneath the dome, depicts a boldly striding figure looking into a mirror, illustrating the precept “know thyself.” Two other figures appear in the scene, one reading, the other listening, and altogether they are intended to represent the virtue of Prudence.
The fresco on the north side depicts two figures pouring fire and water into an urn, with the aim of blending them into the essence of Temperance.
Fortitude, on the south side, is represented by three symbols – a column, a lion, and the figure of a human, who though sorely wounded by the lion, refuses to give up in the face of adverse circumstances.
The fresco on the east side, on the fa
In the middle of the courtyard is a sculptured fountain. The original version, dating from 1687, depicted St. Koloman, but in 1722 the abbot gave it to the town of Melk, and today it stands on the town hall square. The fountain sculpture that stands in the courtyard today doesn’t look very much like St. Koloman, and I haven’t been able to find out what it is supposed to represent.
Our guided tour of the interior of the Abbey began (and ended) at the southwestern corner of the Prelate’s Court, where we entered the Imperial Wing, which used to contain rooms reserved for the imperial court, but now hosts a museum. Here we ascended the Imperial Staircase and found ourselves in the Imperial Corridor, which runs almost the entire length of the building; on its walls are portraits of the rulers of Austria down through the centuries, beginning with the first Babenberg margraves.
I don’t have many pictures of the interior rooms of the Abbey to show. The rooms were often dim, flash photography as usual was not allowed, and I managed to bungle the settings for low-light photos on my camera so that many of the pictures I did take did not come out well. But there were balconies in strategic locations, and from them I shot some good views of the exterior of the abbey as well as the countryside and the town of Melk.
The Melk River flows almost parallel to the Danube, and through the town of Melk for a distance before it meets with the Danube. It creates a long peninsula which is part of the town of Melk but remains heavily wooded and relatively unspoiled. On the peninsula there is an arena, the Wachau Arena Melk, which is essentially a large theater tent where cultural events are hosted, most notably the Sommerspiele Melk, a drama and music festival held annually in June — sounds like a pleasant environment and experience.
Having ascended the Imperial Staircase into the Imperial Corridor, we entered the museum, which in days of yore housed the Imperial apartments. Now it holds exhibits on the history of the monastery and its current activities, including the cultural, political and economic functions which it used to serve and still serves in some regard, especially education. Some of the abbey’s most noteworthy art treasures are also found in the museum. Unfortunately many of the oldest medieval pieces, especially those containing precious metals, had to be sold off to help pay for the wars of the Habsburgs. But some of the most important documents, including chronicles of the history of the monastery and records relating to its construction, remain in the museum.
After visiting the Museum we toured two of the most imposing parts of the Monastery, the Marble Hall and the Library. I don’t have photos of the interior of either of these, only the exterior. The Marble Hall was a guest reception room and dining hall for festive occasions, especially those involving the imperial court. There are two inscriptions in Latin above its doors: “Hospites tamquam Christus suscipiantur” (“Guests should be received as if they were Christ”) and “Et omnibus congruus honor exhibiatur” (“And to each the honor given which is due”). These are quotations from the Rule of St. Benedict. I suspect they were observed more in the case of guests from the Imperial Court more than for lesser beings such as itinerant pilgrims. The ceiling of the Marble Hall features a stunning fresco done by Paul Troger in 1731, depicting the Greek goddess Pallas Athena driving a chariot pulled by lions, and also Hercules killing the Hound of Hell with his club. The allusion to Hercules was in deference to Charles VI, who was the reigning emperor in 1731 and liked to be compared to Hercules.
The Library also has a magnificent ceiling fresco by Paul Troger. But whereas the Marble Hall fresco expresses a wordly theme in alluding to the virtues of the Habsburgs, its counterpart in the Library idealizes Faith, represented by a woman holding biblical symbols in one hand and the shield of the Holy Spirit in the other. She is accompanied by angelic figures representing the four cardinal virtues of Prudence, Temperance, Justice and Fortitude. Additional paintings by Troger and others around the ceiling borders represent the arts and sciences; sculptures at the doors symbolize the four faculties of the premodern university – theology, philosophy, medicine and law. The list of artworks in the library and its adjacent rooms goes on and on, and is too lengthy for me to recite here. The bookshelves themselves are works of art, and the books are bound to match them.
Finally, we descended via the Spiral Staircase to the Abbey Church. I managed to sneak a couple photos of the interior. One of them provides a view of the High Altar, where center stage (as it were) is taken by the figures of Saints Peter and Paul. Legend has it that they were both held in prison together during the Neronian persecution of 64 CE and were executed on the same day, Peter being crucified upside-down and Paul beheaded with a sword. They are depicted on the High Altar as shaking hands in farewell before being led out to execution. The altar also has figures depicting some of the Old Testament prophets on either side of the saints. At the center of the second level of the altar is a crown of victory, together with figures depicting battles of the Church against various evils. The third level has figures of Moses and Aaron on either side of a panel depicting God the Father. On the ceiling are frescoes by a painter from Salzburg, Johann Michael Rottmayr, completed in 1722. The dome, completed in 1717, also has frescoes by Rottmayr.
The Abbey Church has many other artistic masterpieces, too numerous to describe here (and my powers of description are inadequate to do them justice in any case). But one of the major takeaways from my visit to Melk Abbey involves the method behind the masterworks of the Baroque-era reconstruction. Abbot Berthold Dietmayr, the instigator and driving force behind the project, commissioned the greatest artists and architects available to create some of the key pieces of work, and had them sketch out the designs for others. Then he engaged local artists to execute the designs, pushing them to scale heights of skill they would never have attained otherwise. I think this was a key secret of his success and a major reason for his acclamation by posterity.
Our guided tour ended at the Imperial Corridor. There we were invited to explore the gardens of the monastery, which are quite extensive and include some additional architectural jewels (at an additional cost). I didn’t allow myself enough time to see all of the gardens because I spent too much time and money in the gift shop, where among other things I bought a little book about the abbey, which goes into great detail about its history, art and architecture as well as its current activities. Written by the abbot and other members of the abbey staff, and published by the Benedictine press, the book contains in addition to the text a great many beautiful pictures of the monastery, both its interior and exterior. I have shamelessly drawn much of the content of this post from it, while carefully abridging and paraphrasing the material to avoid charges of plagiarism. I cannot reproduce any of the wonderful photos from the book here, but there are some very nice ones to be found on the Wikipedia page for Melk Abbey. Don’t miss the photos of the church interior, the Library and above all the Spiral Staircase, which is one of the most fabulous examples of its genre anywhere. A couple from Alabama named Kevin and Amanda also have some extraordinary pictures of the Spiral Staircase on their website. (Note that I am not referring to the Imperial Staircase, a shot of which I’ve included in the gallery above, but rather the interior staircase connecting the church and the Library). See also the 365Austria Melk Abbey web page. And of course Melk Abbey’s own website has marvelous photos of most of its attractions.
I did manage to see the Baroque Garden, which is the setting for an exquisite pavilion built in 1848 to provide rest and relaxation for the monks after their arduous exertions in fasting and praying. It contains a tea room with exotic frescoes painted on the walls by Johann Bergl, who filled his work with plants, animals, jungle themes and native people. I did not have time to explore the interior of the building, let alone take tea there, but there are some excellent photos of it on the web by a Canadian-German photographer, Nina On the Go [sic]. From the garden I was also able to get a shot of one of the Babenberg towers, part of the original castle fortifications from the 11th century.
All too soon it was time to return to the Monarch Queen, which was about to begin the long journey to its next port of Aschach, the jumpoff point for the excursion to Salzburg. We climbed the same grand staircase which we had descended from the parking lot, and were bid farewell by the parting admonition carved in the stone in the midst of the steps: “Ankommen und du wirst H
