Deutsches Historisches Museum
While this city has more than its share of hokey “museums” that slap together WWII and Cold War bric-a-brac, then charge too much for admission, this thoughtfully presented facility is clearly the top history museum in town. With 9,000 artifacts, exhibits, documents, paintings, and photographs spread across dozens of rooms on two floors, it’s a complete look at 1,500 years of German history.
That’s a lot. But with this chapter as your guide, you’ll sweep through it quickly and painlessly. Use it to get the big picture, then browse at will. Don’t get bogged down somewhere in the Middle Ages; be sure to reserve time and energy for the fascinating 20th century.
Cost: €8.
Hours: Daily 10:00-18:00.
Information: Tel. 030/2030-4751, www.dhm.de.
Getting There: It’s at Unter den Linden 2, immediately west of Museum Island (just across the river). Buses #100, #200, and #TXL stop right in front (Staatsoper stop). By tram, the Am Kupfergraben stop (for trams #M1 and #12) is a block behind the museum. The nearest S-Bahn stop is Friedrichstrasse, a 10-minute walk away; Hackescher Markt S-Bahn station is nearly as close.
Tours: For the most informative visit, invest in the excellent €3 audioguide, with 6 hours of info to choose from.
Length of This Tour: Allow at least 2 hours for the entire museum; for a quicker visit, focus on the 20th century on the main floor (allow about 1 hour).
Baggage Check: A cloakroom and lockers are just off the main lobby, to the left of the ticket desk.
Cuisine Art/Eateries: If you need a break during your visit, there’s a restful café with terrace seating. Some good restaurants are under the railroad tracks behind the museum (see recommendations on here).
Background: For a solid foundation for your visit, read the Germany: Past & Present chapter, at the end of this book.
Starring: The full span of German history, from the remnants of the Roman Empire to today.
The museum often has temporary exhibits, which are included in your ticket price—ask when you arrive.
From the entrance lobby, turn left and head upstairs to the first floor, then work your way down. As you tour the collection, stay on track by locating the museum’s information pillars along the way (each marked with a date span—for example, “500-900”—that matches my headers below), then browse the exhibits nearby. At the top of the stairs, consider taking 45 minutes for the fairly dry but informative introductory film on German history (with English subtitles).
• Start your tour by finding the first info pillar—“500-900.”
“Germany” began circa A.D. 500, as the Roman Empire was falling apart. Western Europe became a land of ethnic Romans and Celts, speaking Latin and worshipping Christ. But the Germanic tribes to the East (Ost) remained Deutsch-speaking and pagan for centuries. On display from this era, you may see a medieval Saxon manuscript, and a famous portrait (by Albrecht Dürer) of the man who would finally bring Germany into the European fold: Charlemagne.
• A few steps farther along, the collection continues with...
When Charlemagne was crowned “Holy Roman Emperor” in the year 800, it united much of Europe into a Kingdom of the Franks—and marked the conversion of the Germans to Christianity (see the ecclesiastical art). Charlemagne’s symbol, the eagle (see the old wooden statue), became the symbol of Germany on today’s coat of arms.
Charlemagne’s successors as “Emperor” were essentially kings of Germany, creating the nucleus of the unified German state. The “Golden Bull of 1356” (a copy of which is on display—by the windows) made sure that the Emperors were chosen by certain “electors”—mostly Germans. The Bull also dictated that one of the electors be from far-off Brandenburg—putting Berlin on the map.
The most powerful Holy Roman Emperor was Charles V—see his portrait. He ruled much of Europe during the Renaissance and Age of Discovery. On display is (a copy of) the 1492 globe Columbus used to plot his voyage—round and pretty accurate, except there’s no America yet.
Meanwhile, the German monk Martin Luther was shocking Europe with new and radical ideas, sparking the Protestant Reformation. Explore deeper into the adjoining rooms to find a number of Luther artifacts. There’s the Edict of Worms, where Charles V condemned the Protestant heretic. There’s a Bible translated by Luther into everyday German, helping to establish the “modern” German language spoken today. There are portraits by Lucas Cranach of his good friend Martin, portraits of other Reformation players, and even of Katherina von Bora—the ex-nun that the ex-monk Luther would marry. What Luther started spiraled into a Europe-wide movement—Protestantism—that led to centuries of turmoil (for more on Luther and his life, see here). With Martin Luther, Germany stepped out of the medieval shadows and onto the global stage.
Germany’s rise from feudal backwater to modern nation was swift. In the left corner of this section, find the small room with four big paintings called the “Augsburger Labours” (c. 1520s). They give a fascinating glimpse at four seasons of bustling city life in an era when German trade and industry were flourishing. It’s a surprisingly cosmopolitan world of burghers and beggars, women and children, Italian dandies, Jews, and turbaned Turks. Germany was thriving, but it still remained decentralized and under the shadow of its larger neighbor, France.
A portrait of King Louis XIV at his peak radiates the power and sophistication of France. Meanwhile, the German-speaking peoples had to deal with an invasion from the east by the Muslim Turks (see the Ottoman tent). When Vienna was besieged in 1683, the city had to be rescued by (among others) an army from far-off northern Germany—Prussia.
You’ll see portraits of various aristocrats who jockeyed for dominance in Germany (see Empress Maria-Theresa Habsburg in a blue dress). When Prussia’s Frederick the Great reluctantly agreed to an arranged marriage with Elisabeth Christine of the Habsburg clan (see their portraits hanging side-by-side), Prussia’s prestige grew. (For more about Frederick, see the sidebar on here).
Find Frederick the Great’s military uniform—it’s a few steps farther along, on the left. Though it looks dressy, this was actually the casual-Friday uniform that this man-of-the-people king usually wore instead of royal regalia. Notice the cut-fingered gloves, so he could pinch snuff. On his chest is the medallion of the Order of the Black Eagle, an honor bestowed on nobles, generals, artists, politicians, and foreign dignitaries into the 20th century.
Browse the nearby displays to understand why Frederick was so Great. He made Prussia a European power and Berlin a cultural capital. He brought the Age of Enlightenment to Germany. He met with the writer Goethe (see his bust) and published Immanuel Kant’s “Inquiry” (on display). Science flourished (see scientific instruments) as did music (see early keyboards and a picture of the Mozart family). As new ideas raced across Europe, it came to a violent eruption in France—the Revolution.
Spanning the next couple of rooms are scenes of the French Revolution and the rise of Napoleon. Napoleon conquered the Austrian Habsburgs (see the captured flag), leaving the German-speaking people with one great power—Prussia.
Find Napoleon’s hat and sword. In 1815, these objects were captured when Napoleon was defeated at Waterloo by Europe’s two new powers: England and Prussia.
Browsing these rooms, you can trace the rise of German nationalism. There are medallions marking Luther’s 300th anniversary, a great source of national pride. You’ll see machinery (thread-weavers, steam-powered contraptions) from the Industrial Revolution that was fueling Germany. Farther along you’ll see a model of an early train—the invention that would soon lace the scattered German people together.
In 1848, revolutions broke out across Europe (you’ll see turbulent scenes from cities like Paris and Berlin). Progressive Germans wanted a modern nation, ruled by the “Constitution of 1849” (on display), but the movement failed. It seemed that Germany could only be united by force, under a dominant power: Prussia.
These exhibits trace the rise of Prussia as it took over Germany’s destiny in the 1800s. Wilhelm I and his shrewd Prime Minister, Otto von Bismarck (see their busts), used political wheeling-and-dealing and outright force to try to forge Germany’s principalities and dukedoms together. They even invaded France in the Franco-Prussian War to rally the German people together in a cause. The Germans won, and you’ll see paintings of their triumph and the spiked military helmets they proudly wore. In 1871, the German people united, and they proudly waved an eagle flag (on display) of a new nation: Germany.
A huge painting radiates the optimism and glory of the new nation. Dignitaries gather in Berlin’s royal palace (which once stood on Museum Island) to announce the opening of the Reichstag. Presiding on the dais (with red robe, crown, and document) is the handsome young ruler, Wilhelm II. He wears the Order of the Black Eagle and bears the title of not merely king, but emperor (Kaiser). This was, after the medieval Holy Roman Empire, the “Second German Reich.”
Kaiser Wilhelm II reigned over a period of unprecedented wealth and prosperity. Germany was an industrial powerhouse, was acquiring rich colonies in Africa, and was expanding its military might. Berlin’s population absolutely surged, and the capital rivaled Paris and London as a cultural center. In a nearby display, the “Kaiser Panorama,” you can view old photos of turn-of-the-century Berlin in its glory, as couples and carriages promenade down Unter den Linden.
By 1914, Germany was a global superpower, destined for a glorious future.
• To see how it all played out, head downstairs to the ground floor, cross directly across the lobby, and enter the exhibit rooms.
World War I—pitting Germany against France, England, and others—was horrific. Photos show the grim reality of a war fought from defensive trenches, where a machine gun (on display) could do the killing of 500 soldiers with rifles. Posters (and a poignant woodcut by Berlin artist Käthe Kollwitz) capture the bitter and cynical mood that descended over Germany. By war’s end, Germany had lost 1.7 million men, and 4 million came home wounded. Germany was defeated.
Europe’s victors dealt harshly with Germany, sowing enormous resentment. The Weimar Republic was doomed to fail. The German economy was in shambles (see the pile of ridiculously inflated currency).
And yet, the side-room shows how, even in these tough times, booming Berlin (whose population doubled in the postwar years) flourished: the cabaret scene (flapper dresses); the development of motion pictures (Berlin was the original “Hollywood”); Bauhaus (the stripped-down architectural style that’s still influential today); and impressive ocean liners.
Dueling displays show off propaganda and uniforms from the two poles of Germany’s political spectrum: National Socialists (Nazis) and Communists.
Ultimately the Nazi Party prevailed. Their propaganda convinced the German people that they were strong and good, but had been betrayed by a rigged system. In 1933, the Nazis took control of Germany under Adolf Hitler.
Hitler narrowly became Chancellor. But within weeks, the Reichstag burned in a shocking fire (see photo)—giving him an opening to consolidate power.
At first, Germany seemed to prosper under the Nazis. They recruited supporters from all walks of life (see Hitler Youth posters, and the closet of Nazi uniforms). But under the surface, dissent simmered, and was brutally suppressed—find the footage of Nazis burning books on Bebelplatz, just across the street from this museum. In the smaller rooms beneath the mezzanine, view the hateful propaganda posters designed to train the German people to identify—and hate—Jews and other minorities on sight. These demonstrate how, even early in his reign, Hitler’s strategy to scapegoat these groups for Germany’s problems was embraced by many of his subjects. The Nazis escalated their atrocities against Jews—the 1935 Nürnberg Laws, the 1938 destruction of synagogues (Kristallnacht)—eventually culminating in the “Final Solution” and the Holocaust. (More on that later.)
To shore up support, Hitler appealed to Germans’ sense of national and ethnic pride. He preached about the Volksgemeinschaft—a “people’s community” of purely Germanic, Aryan ideals. Back out in the main hall, find the large, wall-sized church tapestry of cutesy German-style houses and common people marching in lock-(goose)step with Nazi-uniformed troops.
The Nazis set Germany on a path of global domination. They were determined to prove Germany’s might, hosting the Olympics in 1936 (see poster). Nearby, find the model of the domed building by architect Albert Speer, and ponder Hitler’s megalomania. Hitler made plans to turn Berlin into “Welthaupstadt Germania,” the “world capital” of his far-reaching Third Reich. The centerpiece would be this impossibly huge domed Volkshalle—950 feet high and able to accommodate 180,000 people. It would squat over the Spree River, just north of the Reichstag, as the anchor of a grandiose north-south axis called the Avenue of Splendors. Hitler’s grand plans were put on hold as Germany once again went to war.
At the start of World War II, Germany’s Blitzkrieg (“Lightning War”) demolished its enemies. But then came several devastating, watershed battles, such as Stalingrad (see the film).
As the tide turned against Germany, the destruction began creeping back into the Fatherland. The Allies (the US and Britain) began aerial bombardment of German cities, especially Berlin (see the bomb casings and the fragments of a downed RAF bomber, dredged from a German lake).
It became total war, including genocide. Exhibits document the atrocities at Hitler’s concentration camps, including registration photos of prisoners. A model shows the nauseating reality of Hitler’s grandiosity: a crematorium at Auschwitz (in Nazi-occupied Poland) designed to exterminate Jews. Incoming prisoners were tricked into disrobing and entering a huge, underground “shower room,” only to be killed by Zyklon-B gas. Then workers (most of them inmates hoping to postpone their own demise) would pile the bodies into four huge crematoria, which blazed 24/7 to burn the evidence of Nazi crimes. (This same model appears at the Holocaust museums at Auschwitz, in Washington, DC, and at Israel’s Yad Vashem.)
Finally, the Nazis are defeated and Hitler shoots himself. Troops from the US and USSR shake hands at the Elbe River, while newspaper headlines trumpet an Allied victory. But the cost was incalculable: More than 60 million dead worldwide, including 6 million Jews and 6 million non-Jewish Germans. A video shows how totally demolished many German cities were by war’s end.
Even before the last shots were fired, Allied leaders had already met at the Potsdam Conference to divvy up a defeated Germany (see the photo of Churchill, Truman, and Stalin). Berlin and Germany were divided between the Soviet-leaning East and the US-leaning West. And essentially immediately, World War II became a protracted Cold War.
A border post marks the “inner German border” between West and East. Exhibits juxtapose different slices of life in the two Germanys. The West’s economy recovered (see the smart VW bug), while the East’s languished (the clunky Trabi). East Germany remained under the oppressive thumb of the Soviet communist government for decades. But by the 1980s, the Soviet empire was cracking, and the German people longed to reunite and be free.
In 1989, the Berlin Wall—the most iconic symbol of division and oppression—began crumbling. You’ll see videos of the celebrations, preserved sections of the wall, and clips of US president Ronald Reagan demanding they “tear down this wall.” The Wall came down, Germany was reunited, and the homemade banners of freedom were raised.
For architecture buffs, the big attraction is the modern annex behind the history museum, designed by American architect I.M. Pei. (To get there from the old building, cross through the courtyard, admiring the Pei glass canopy overhead.) This annex complements the museum with often-fascinating temporary exhibits. A striking glassed-in spiral staircase unites four floors with surprising views and lots of light. It’s here that you’ll experience why Pei—famous for his glass pyramid at Paris’ Louvre—is called the “perfector of classical modernism,” “master of light,” and a magician at uniting historical buildings with new ones.
