To spot St. Martin’s Church, look for a grand white building with tall, classically styled walls and two slightly slender towers topped by greenish domes, peeking above the treetops right in front of you.
Welcome to the storied St. Martin’s Church-where Oltner history echoes through every stone, and, if you listen carefully, you might even hear a bell or two chiming in the background. Try to picture this square more than 200 years ago, when the church you see now was nothing but an architect's dream and an empty patch of ground once occupied by the Heilig-Kreuz Chapel. That chapel had to say goodbye in 1806 because it just wasn’t big enough for the growing town-a little sibling pushed aside by the promise of something grander.
Blasius Balteschwiler, the church’s architect, started work in a confident classical style-think dramatic pillars, elegant lines, and all the pride of the early 1800s. The old St. Martin’s was torn down, except for one stubborn neighbor: the City Tower, which still stands nearby, almost like it’s keeping watch over its newer sibling. This church, built between 1806 and 1813, ended up right at the very heart of Olten.
But don’t let these calm walls fool you; St. Martin’s witnessed storms-political ones, that is! For years, it was the proud Roman Catholic church in town, until the Vatican Council of 1870 and the fierce Kulturkampf-the “culture struggle”-swept across Switzerland. Suddenly, Oltner Catholics divided, and St. Martin’s became the spiritual home for the Old Catholic congregation. You might imagine heated debates echoing between these walls while the townsfolk decided where-and how-they’d worship.
Think the outside is full of surprises? Wait till you hear about the towers! They look like sturdy stone, but in truth they’re clever fakes-wooden frames dressed up with clever paint and metal to look just like real masonry. It’s the architectural equivalent of a well-styled wig. Legend has it, the original towers were meant to look slimmer than what actually got built, but the city’s sense of style was no match for engineering realities and, let’s be honest, a bit of trickery. Every so often, someone would suggest finishing these “temporary” towers for good, but they remain as they are-a bit of a prankster’s legacy.
Step inside, and the church’s musical story begins. An 1879 Kuhn organ, proudly perched at the back, still sings nearly as it did on its very first day. When it was new, the golden letters on the organ pipes proclaimed GLORIA IN EXCELSIS DFO-a typo that lasted a whole century. Talk about a keyboard slip! Only with the latest renovations did “DFO” finally become “DEO.” In the choir loft, you’ll now find another treasure-a hand-crafted Italian organ, made with care in 2002 to sound just like an instrument from the 1700s.
And what would a city church be without its bells? Listen now: from the left tower, a set of four bells-one ancient, three relatively new-call out to the faithful and let the whole town know the time. The biggest weighs a full 1,000 kilograms. The bells even have a clever tuning: “f1” was chosen as the ideal sound to echo across Olten.
After millions of francs and a sweeping renovation that ended in 2018, St. Martin’s shines once again as the home of the city’s Christian Catholic parish. Every stone has a story, and every echo, joke, and even typo inside these walls is part of a tapestry two centuries in the making. So while you’re here, listen close-you never know what secrets St. Martin’s might whisper if you give it a chance.
If you're curious about the towers, organs or the bells, the chat section below is the perfect place to seek clarification.
