Rundetaarn
Title
Rundetaarn
Description
The Rundetaarn, whose name is Danish for “Round Tower,” is a remarkable piece of Early Modern architecture. This is not due to the technologies used to build it (which were standard for the time), nor its actual design (which is utilitarian and, frankly, somewhat dull), but instead the result of the fact that the Rundetaarn looms over Copenhagen as a symbol of the ways in which science, in this case astronomy, was increasingly valued by Early Modern leaders both secular and religious as a vital, or at least valuable, part of running their various domains.
The Rundetaarn is a cylindrical tower attached to Copenhagen’s Trinitatis Church, built to serve as an astronomical observatory for the nearby University of Copenhagen (and to replace Uraniborg, the observatory complex of Tycho Brahe, after it was destroyed following the renowned astronomer’s fall from royal favor). The tower structure is built mostly of brick, stands about 136 feet in height, and is capped with an open platform surrounded by a fence on which astronomers would have been able to set up their various measuring devices without need to worry about buildings or trees impeding their view of the stars (Rundetaarn, Short History of the Tower). The areas of the tower not directly connected to the church are set with rows of Gothic-style windows arranged in columns of seven, and an arched cornice which contains smaller windows sits beneath the rim of the observation deck. The interior of the Rundetaarn is taken up mostly by a large ramp capable of allowing a horse-drawn carriage access to the top of the tower (Rundetaarn, Short History of the Tower). Aside from this remarkable detail, though, the Rundetaarn is an architecturally uninteresting building which takes its cues not from contemporary Baroque or Northern Renaissance architecture but instead the architecture of the Late Medieval period. It could be argued that this was a deliberate choice, a counter-balancing of the new discoveries astronomy promised with the tradition of the past, or it could be that, since this was a building constructed to be useful, its Gothic aesthetic served to render it visually palatable with a minimum of elaboration. This latter explanation seems likelier when one considers that Denmark, as a Protestant country, would have valued the use value of a structure over pointless ornateness.
Why, though, would the king of Denmark finance such a structure, and why attach it to a church? The answer lies in the very pragmatism referenced above. The Rundetaarn, though certainly an expensive and impressive building project, was first and foremost conceived of as a tool. It was, of course, a tool for scientists to observe the cosmos, but it was also a tool for Denmark’s political leadership. Allowing carriage access to the top would have been useful for carrying equipment, but it’s hard not to see that this was also a way for the kings of Denmark to lay claim to their version of the Rundetaarn-as-tool, its usefulness as a dedicated research institute which would bring prestige to the nation and provide its rulers with new, and potentially useful, knowledge. When the king rides his carriage up to your workplace using a staircase designed for that explicit purpose, you gain a pretty clear idea of the attitude he wants you to have towards him (i.e. one of respect and deference), and of the fact that the information you produce with your research had better be valuable to him. Similarly, the fact that the Rundetaarn was built as part of a church is a reflection of the fact that religious authority over science, and especially astronomy, was probably of particular concern during the era when the Rundetaarn was built. It’s likely that part of the reason for melding Christianity and science together (literally) by making the church and observation structures contiguous was the hope that doing so might avoid another Galilean catastrophe of ideological rebellion, reducing the cultural danger the Rundetaarn posed to the unity of Denmark. The function of the Rundetaarn was therefore to provide the benefits of a specialized astronomical research post to the Danish crown while ensuring that the astronomers working there posed no danger either to the monarchs they served or the Church whose cultural power their research might threaten. It is, in other words, a perfect encapsulation of the promises of and anxieties around natural philosophy and/or the nascent idea of “science” in the Early Modern period.
The Rundetaarn is a cylindrical tower attached to Copenhagen’s Trinitatis Church, built to serve as an astronomical observatory for the nearby University of Copenhagen (and to replace Uraniborg, the observatory complex of Tycho Brahe, after it was destroyed following the renowned astronomer’s fall from royal favor). The tower structure is built mostly of brick, stands about 136 feet in height, and is capped with an open platform surrounded by a fence on which astronomers would have been able to set up their various measuring devices without need to worry about buildings or trees impeding their view of the stars (Rundetaarn, Short History of the Tower). The areas of the tower not directly connected to the church are set with rows of Gothic-style windows arranged in columns of seven, and an arched cornice which contains smaller windows sits beneath the rim of the observation deck. The interior of the Rundetaarn is taken up mostly by a large ramp capable of allowing a horse-drawn carriage access to the top of the tower (Rundetaarn, Short History of the Tower). Aside from this remarkable detail, though, the Rundetaarn is an architecturally uninteresting building which takes its cues not from contemporary Baroque or Northern Renaissance architecture but instead the architecture of the Late Medieval period. It could be argued that this was a deliberate choice, a counter-balancing of the new discoveries astronomy promised with the tradition of the past, or it could be that, since this was a building constructed to be useful, its Gothic aesthetic served to render it visually palatable with a minimum of elaboration. This latter explanation seems likelier when one considers that Denmark, as a Protestant country, would have valued the use value of a structure over pointless ornateness.
Why, though, would the king of Denmark finance such a structure, and why attach it to a church? The answer lies in the very pragmatism referenced above. The Rundetaarn, though certainly an expensive and impressive building project, was first and foremost conceived of as a tool. It was, of course, a tool for scientists to observe the cosmos, but it was also a tool for Denmark’s political leadership. Allowing carriage access to the top would have been useful for carrying equipment, but it’s hard not to see that this was also a way for the kings of Denmark to lay claim to their version of the Rundetaarn-as-tool, its usefulness as a dedicated research institute which would bring prestige to the nation and provide its rulers with new, and potentially useful, knowledge. When the king rides his carriage up to your workplace using a staircase designed for that explicit purpose, you gain a pretty clear idea of the attitude he wants you to have towards him (i.e. one of respect and deference), and of the fact that the information you produce with your research had better be valuable to him. Similarly, the fact that the Rundetaarn was built as part of a church is a reflection of the fact that religious authority over science, and especially astronomy, was probably of particular concern during the era when the Rundetaarn was built. It’s likely that part of the reason for melding Christianity and science together (literally) by making the church and observation structures contiguous was the hope that doing so might avoid another Galilean catastrophe of ideological rebellion, reducing the cultural danger the Rundetaarn posed to the unity of Denmark. The function of the Rundetaarn was therefore to provide the benefits of a specialized astronomical research post to the Danish crown while ensuring that the astronomers working there posed no danger either to the monarchs they served or the Church whose cultural power their research might threaten. It is, in other words, a perfect encapsulation of the promises of and anxieties around natural philosophy and/or the nascent idea of “science” in the Early Modern period.
Creator
Photograph: Laurids de Thurah
Architect: Unknown (Danish)
Architect: Unknown (Danish)
Source
https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Hafnia_Hodierna_Tab_XC_Rundetaarn.jpg
Rundetaarn, Short History of the Tower, 2018. http://www.rundetaarn.dk/en/the-tower/facts/
Rundetaarn, Short History of the Tower, 2018. http://www.rundetaarn.dk/en/the-tower/facts/
Date
Finished 1642
Contributor
Brendan Glenn
Rights
Public Domain; free re-use
Original Format
Woodcut
Physical Dimensions
Unknown
Citation
Photograph: Laurids de Thurah
Architect: Unknown (Danish), “Rundetaarn,” HIST 139 - Early Modern Europe, accessed August 6, 2026, https://earlymoderneurope.hist.sites.carleton.edu/items/show/110.