. Romantic Germany. with towered water-gates, and, last of all,the profile of the Krahn Thor, or Crane Gate, Dan-zigs unique landmark, its stories projecting onebeyond another like those of Hildesheims the island formed by two arms of the Mottlau theblack and white of half-timbered granaries startedstrongly out of the mist. The river bristled with romantic shipping; and asI walked the quay, I caught, between gables, theglow of the lights of the Lange Markt flushingthe fog into a rosy cloud the center of which was thesteeple of the Rathaus. It was as though beauty hadbeen given an aur
. Romantic Germany. with towered water-gates, and, last of all,the profile of the Krahn Thor, or Crane Gate, Dan-zigs unique landmark, its stories projecting onebeyond another like those of Hildesheims the island formed by two arms of the Mottlau theblack and white of half-timbered granaries startedstrongly out of the mist. The river bristled with romantic shipping; and asI walked the quay, I caught, between gables, theglow of the lights of the Lange Markt flushingthe fog into a rosy cloud the center of which was thesteeple of the Rathaus. It was as though beauty hadbeen given an aureole. I turned a corner, and wandered along the othershore of the island, past a deserted waterway and astrange, crumbling tower called the Milk-can Gate,then back again to the Green Bridge. The darknesshad thickened so that one could no longer distinguishthe separate house-fronts, but all the lamps along theshore had their soft auras of mist, and the surface ofthe water was one delicate shimmer, with strong col- 4. THE CRANE GATE DANZIG uinns of light at regular intervals, among which thecrimson lantern of a passing boat wrought amazingeffects. Where had I known such an evening before? Asmemory wandered idly about the harbor of Liibeck,the bridges of Nuremberg, the riversides of Wiirz-burg and Breslau, I was flashed in a trice to theSiren of sea-cities, that floating film upon the wonder-fraughtOcean of dreams, and it came to me with a glow of pleasure that thisplace had from of old been called The Venice of theNorth. This, then, was my introduction to Danzig, and Inever think of it without seeing streets full of high,narrow facades melting one into another, gentlycurving streets alive with rich reliefs, statues ofblurred worthies, and inquisitive gargoyles, theblunt, mighty Church of St. Mary looming abovethem like a mountain. I can never see the name ofDanzig wdthout beholding a dusky waterway linedwith medieval structures and—strange juxtaposition—a jewel of Reformation
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1910, booksubjectgermany, bookyear1910
