Discover millions of ebooks, audiobooks, and so much more with a free trial

From $11.99/month after trial. Cancel anytime.

The Architecture of Denmark
The Architecture of Denmark
The Architecture of Denmark
Ebook181 pages1 hour

The Architecture of Denmark

By Anon

Rating: 0 out of 5 stars

()

Read preview

About this ebook

Many of the earliest books, particularly those dating back to the 1900s and before, are now extremely scarce and increasingly expensive. We are republishing these classic works in affordable, high quality, modern editions, using the original text and artwork.
LanguageEnglish
Release dateSep 16, 2016
ISBN9781473355811
The Architecture of Denmark

Read more from Anon

Related to The Architecture of Denmark

Related ebooks

Architecture For You

View More

Related articles

Reviews for The Architecture of Denmark

Rating: 0 out of 5 stars
0 ratings

0 ratings0 reviews

What did you think?

Tap to rate

Review must be at least 10 words

    Book preview

    The Architecture of Denmark - Anon

    Preben Hansen

    LAND AND LANDSCAPE

    Lying between the North Sea and the Baltic, Denmark’s only land frontier is that which borders Germany in Southern Jutland.

    Like the fisherman, whose first glance every morning is towards the sea, the whole land is dependent upon the ocean, whose eternal rollers break upon the long coasts of the Jutland peninsula, and upon the many greater and lesser islands. A wealth of bays and inlets increases this interplay of land and sea and the Danish beechwoods grow right out to the edge of the slopes and cliffs that border sound and strait. In a few places only do the white chalk cliffs break through the soil, although chalk from the floods of the immeasurable past is the very foundation of the land. Then, where Denmark now lies, there was but deep sea, and only the highest point of the eastern island of Bornholm raised its age-old peak—formed from cooling lava of volcanic streams. Throughout the ages, minute formaniferae have sunk, with their tiny shells, down to the ocean bed, there to form, layer upon layer, the foundation of the Danish countryside, which later was yet further carved out by mighty glaciers of the great ice-age. When the ice-cap had melted, Denmark lay with the same surface it has to-day, with the same plains, hills and dales, formed of gravel and sand from glacial streams and of heavy morainic clay. Its rolling surface resembled that of the sea from which it sprang. The deep fiords and broad river valleys of Eastern Jutland are a peaceful monument to the glacial age.

    Nowadays it is seldom that the ice and snow of winter lie heavily on Denmark. The climate is mild. On the Continent east winds can bring bitter cold or summer heat, but it is the west wind that rules Denmark’s weather. It may bring with it mild warmth, or it may rise to storm and bring days of rain. And in both spring and autumn the strength of the west wind rises, bowing all plant life toward the east. England is not as familiar as Denmark with this stiff wind, which may set in for days—even for weeks—on end.

    Canal warehouse, Copenhagen

    The Danish countryside belongs to the Danish peasant. In the fields that stretch across the rolling hills he toils, followed by white flocks of gulls, tilling the soil behind horse and plough. His fields are striped rectangular carpets, rounding off the primitive ruggedness of the land. Scattered throughout the countryside his houses, built by choice where the hills slope towards the south, brave the tearing wind, and like the cattle in the fields, turning their backs to it. It is a time-honoured custom to build from east to west, in line with the wind, like ships riding at anchor.

    The earliest houses were built of peat and clay. The ridge of the straw thatch was bound with seaweed or heather. They were the first step towards the development of great conglomerations of farm buildings, with stalls and barns and store-houses, so well exemplified in the eastern districts of Jutland and on the fertile islands. Especially on the island of Funen is the four-winged half-timbered farm, surrounded by gardens, flowers and hedgerows, a lovely idyll in which the craftsmanship found in the houses of market towns combines with all that is best in the finest manor houses. But there are still many farm buildings which consist of only one long narrow block, where both man and beast live under the same hipped roof; these are typical of the more inclement districts of Jutland, behind the sandy dunes of the west coast, and out on the barren heath.

    Originally the woods, which covered a considerable part of Denmark, were the source of material for all larger buildings. Later the monk, coming through France from Rome, brought a new era with him. He taught the Dane, who possessed insufficient natural stone, to bake artificial stone from clay. Between the twelfth and thirteenth centuries nearly all country churches and several cathedrals were built of this material. Between thirty and forty churches arose each year, and most of them still stand to-day. Since then brick has become the most commonly used material. It is baked from the inexhaustible supplies of morainic clay, from the upper layers of which come red bricks and thin finely-shaped roof-tiles, while from the deeper layers come blue clay, yellow bricks, tiles and drain-pipes.

    Village church, Greasted, Zealand

    By far the greater number of the older churches have, in the course of time, been rebuilt and enlarged with chapels, towers and porches. Nevertheless, they always show the peasant’s close understanding of natural building materials. Here are the roughest boulders of the fields and great granite blocks, chiselled smooth and square, side by side with expanses of red brick pointed with lime-mixed mortar. Posts and beams are cleverly constructed in heavy oak. The pure white chalk of the subsoil shines in the walls and in the plaster surface of the arches. In every village the little church, which has often proved a stronghold in times of war and trouble, lies behind the walls of the churchyard. It looks its best on Christmas Eve, when lighted candles shine through tiny window-panes and the air is dotted with dancing snowflakes.

    When the railways were built in the middle of the last century, the peaceful Danish countryside received something of a shock. Many small towns became busy junctions, and fishing villages became seaports. The majority, however, remained all but untouched and still continue a quiet existence, discreetly observed in the mirrors fixed at a careful angle outside parlour windows, reflecting up and down each street. White-curtained windows are filled with potted plants. On the front doors of the houses trim name-plates, bearing the names of Jensen and Hansen, Nielsen and Andersen, tell who lives within. The smaller alleys have rounded cobbles with deep gutters, and behind the low lines of houses lie peaceful gardens. One town clusters round a royal castle, another round a ruin or a cathedral that stands silhouetted against the sky above the water of the fiord.

    Farmhouse in Western Jutland

    Denmark possesses no resources of coal, iron or oil. Consequently, the industrial revolution has not brought with it the hopeless slums and depressed areas that are to be found in other countries. Despite this the capital is very crowded, and contains a quarter of the nation’s population. Copenhagen is a desert of stone, fortunately set with many oases. It is at once metropolis and small-town, market and fishing village. The peasant in the town has never forgotten the soil of his forebears though new ideas blow in with every changing wind. In spite of two violent fires and Wellington’s bombardment in 1807, the street plan of the old city is still essentially medieval. Crooked and tightly packed quarters within the ancient fortifications are found side by side with the evidence of later, more formal, building. The classical streets are of surprising elegance and provide an appropriate background to barge and ship where they open on to the old harbour and the canals. Strangely enough, however, the town seems to have turned its back on the sea, and looks more towards the countryside and the suburban dwellings lying among parks and woods.

    The English park landscape is something the Dane understands, for his own land resembles a great garden. English influence can be seen not only in the parks of castles

    Enjoying the preview?
    Page 1 of 1