Alte Mühle

“A mill by the city walls…” whispered the wind through the ancient timbers of the Alte Mühle. The Alte Mühle in Hanover. It’s a whisper of a story, carried on the breeze from centuries past. This isn’t the mill you see in photographs from the Hermann-Löns-Park. That one is a bockwindmühle, relocated here piece by piece. No, the Alte Mühle we speak of stood by the Leine river, an integral part of Hanover’s history for over 600 years. Imagine the Leine, not as it is today, but as a rushing, churning force driving the great water wheel of the Alte Mühle. The first record of it appears in 1226 as “molandinum Honovere,” simply “the mill of Hanover.” By 1347, it earns a new name: “Klikmoelen,” or Klickmühle, nestled beside the city walls. For centuries, the Klickmühle ground grain for the city, its rhythmic clicking a constant soundtrack to Hanoverian life. In 1535, a vital addition joined the mill: a waterworks. This “Bornkunst,” drew water from the Leine to supply the city’s wells. Klickmühle was not just a mill. It was an engine of life for Hanover. An inscription stone from 1615 speaks of renovations, a “new building” of the mill’s masonry and foundation. The inscription tells of deeper foundations, stronger stonework, and even a rebuilt “Schnelle Graben,” a fast-flowing channel feeding water to the mill’s wheel. In 1636, Hanover’s destiny changed. Duke George of Calenberg declared the city his residence and began constructing the Leineschloss. The area around Klickmühle transformed, becoming the Schlossvorplatz, a grand open space before the palace. Sadly, this meant the demolition of 42 houses on the mill’s island. Even as the city changed around it, Klickmühle remained. The Corpus bonorum of 1720 notes yet another rebuilding of the mill in 1712. The mill’s story is also interwoven with the lives of prominent Hanoverians. Carl Georg Fiedeler, born in the Klickmühle in 1811, went on to become a successful entrepreneur. His son, Hermann, also born in the mill in 1844, later played a role in Döhren’s history. Progress, as it often does, eventually claimed the Klickmühle. In 1895, to create a grand southern entrance to Hanover, both the mill and the adjacent waterworks were demolished to make way for the Flusswasserkunst, a new, grand waterworks designed by Hubert Stier. Though the Alte Mühle, the Klickmühle, is gone, its spirit lingers. Across from the Markthalle, a restaurant bears its name, a small tribute to the centuries of service the mill gave to Hanover. The next time you are near the Leine, near the Markthalle, pause. Listen. You might just hear the faintest click, the ghost of the Alte Mühle whispering its stories on the wind.