|
|
|
June/July 1996 Issue:
Estival Festivals
Summer Musical Pleasures in German-Speaking Europe
by Anne Midgette
When the theater and concert season ends in May or June, you might think it would mean a holiday from cultural pursuits. Not so in Europe. In the summer months, the extraordinary
panoply of cultural offerings that Germany has to offer simply changes venue and moves into beautiful castles or open-air stages for summer festival season.
There is something incomparable about hearing music in a beautiful, special setting in a holiday atmosphere. Often, too, these festivals bring audiences closer to the original spirit in
which the music was written than does your average performance in a modern concert hall, sealed off by necessity from a work's origins, its composer's intentions, the atmosphere of Europe that influences the
world's classical concert repertoire today.
The granddaddy of all German festivals, the Richard Wagner opera festival in Bayreuth, exemplifies perfectly the special quality a summer festival can confer on the standard repertoire:
you can hear Wagner operas the world over, but they will never sound quite the way they do at Bayreuth. Wagner himself began this festival, and it has been devoted exclusively to his operas ever since.
Production styles may vary, but the venue stays the same: the festival theater on its signature Grüne Hügel (green hill), a little ways out of town.
From the outside, the theater looks a bit rough; Wagner ran out of funding--his patron, King Ludwig of Bavaria, having effectively bankrupted his realm--before he could finish off the
theater's facade according to plan. Inside, the theater is more as he wanted it, notable for its technical innovations; an extremely deep proscenium, and an orchestra pit placed almost entirely on the stage.
Audiences also know well its uncomfortable wooden seats, on which everyone sits in full evening regalia--long dresses only, ladies, and black tie for men--in the stifling heat for the four or five hours of each
opera. By way of compensation, each intermission is an hour long, allowing everyone to stroll around the green hill, digest the music and whatever else they feel like eating, and--to some, the most important
activity--see and be seen.
Bayreuth, however, is not an activity for everyone. Generally, you have to write away for tickets far in advance, and continue writing in, like a lottery player, for several years until
finally your name comes up on the list and you are granted entrance. Still, bevies of eager students and visitors flock around the box office before performances, holding up hopeful Suche Karte (Looking for
Tickets) signs, which sometimes yield results. People looking to buy or sell tickets also often place classified ads in their local papers in Munich, Hamburg, or Berlin months before the festival takes place.
This year's festival (July 25-August 28) features only one premiere, a new Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg by Wagner grandson Wolfgang, control of the festival having remained very much a family affair through
the 120 years or so since it began. But there is also a complete staging of the four-evening Ring cycle for diehard Wagnerites.
The other pole of the festival cosmos in German-speaking Europe might be thought to center around Mozart, since it is held in the Austrian town of his birth--Salzburg. And it is true
that the Salzburg festival does regularly present Mozart operas; this year's program includes Le Nozze di Figaro, for example. But the festival's identity has come to center more around new, sometimes startling
productions by hot young stage directors and modern works since Gerard Mortier took over as Festival Director in 1990.
This has not always been to the liking of the regular festival public, whose tastes were cultivated during the decades when the great and eminently traditional conductor Herbert von
Karajan dominated the proceedings; but it has certainly livened up the staid little town in the summer (this year from July 21 to August 31). Furthermore, because the modern works are not always as popular as
those by Mozart, it means you can sometimes get tickets for productions in the Großes Festspielhaus (a somewhat claustrophobic theater, seeming to be wider than it is deep, so that audience members feel they are
sitting on top of the exceptionally broad, almost panoramic view of the stage).
Salzburg also presents a variety of concerts and recitals--from orchestra performances to chamber events--in various venues, some in the local music conservatory, the Mozarteum.
Highlights this year include a new Fidelio, staged by Herbert Wernicke (who has become something of a festival regular) and conducted by Sir Georg Solti, and an Elektra; (although Mozart fans looking for a
traditional experience might want to steer clear of Luc Bondy's unfortunate, rather uninspired production of Le Nozze di Figaro.)
Even more summery than Salzburg is Bregenz, a town perched at the western tip of Austria between Germany and Switzerland, laying claim to its own stretch of the shores of the Bodensee
(known to English speakers as Lake Constance). The Bregenz Festival began the year after WWII as a means to revive the townspeople's spirits and morale after the war years; in 1946, at the first festival,
performances were given on two barges moored in the lake. Today, these have been replaced by a huge (6,000-seat) theater actually built on pilings over the water, which festival officials bill as the
"world's largest floating stage." Long known for featuring lighter fare--musicals and operettas--the festival turned around in the mid-1980s when it began bringing in serious directors to try new,
innovative stagings of famous operas, such as Jerome Savary's fantasy-world rendering of The Magic Flute.
Because of the technical complexity of the stagings, the stage is actually completely dismantled and built wholly anew for each production, which then runs for two years: 1996 (July
21-August 23) is the second year of David Pountney's everything-but-the-kitchen- sink Fidelio. This Fidelio is not unlike something Andrew Lloyd Webber might have dreamed up: starting with a row of
suburban-looking houses that, hydraulically powered, can be moved up and down at will, it goes on from technical marvel to technical marvel, culminating in a fireworks display as a motor launch chugs up to the
stage from the lake to deliver the Governor for his visit, followed by a barge like something Cleopatra might ride through the Hollywood Bowl, laden with star-spangled cheerleaders who storm the stage. All in
all, it is a very entertaining evening if you do not come expecting anything too deep or do not mind that the musical side of things is pretty much overpowered by the staging (and by the fact that in such a huge
outdoor space, everything has to be miked). If you prefer your opera more straightlaced, you might visit the smaller, indoor stage, where the festival makes a point of producing less well-known operas; this
year's production is Le Roi d'Artus by Chausson.
In the month of July, opera fans in Germany congregate in Munich for the Munich Opera Festival. Unlike some festivals, the Munich festival does not have a special venue for special
performances but is held in the Bavarian State Opera and features performances from the regular season: generally all of the new productions from the season just past, one new premiere, and a few evergreens,
always concluding with Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg on July 31. This festival does offer special prices, but with a twist: ticket prices are far higher than for regular season performances, even if it is the
same production. Notably, this year's festival premiere is actually the world premiere of a specially commissioned work; German composer Hans- Jürgen von Bose has written an opera based on Kurt Vonnegut's novel
Slaughterhouse Five. Von Bose wanted his opera to have the same English title, but the opera house director, Peter Jonas, was adamant that the work be German (perhaps because Jonas himself, being English, is
sensitive to accusations of favoring his native land): what audiences on July 1 will see, therefore, is Schlachthof Fünf.
At the opposite end of the spectrum from all of these festivals, geographically, at least, is the Schleswig-Holstein Festival (July-August), held in the northernmost of Germany's 16
states, a flat land of thatched-roofed farmhouses and windswept dunes. Focusing not on opera but on the concert repertoire, this festival (held in a number of regional cities, but centered in the harbor city of
Kiel) came to prominence under the aegis of Justus Frantz, a bespectacled wunderkind who tries to bill himself as an Alleskönner, or all-round talent--he plays the piano and conducts--but, by having chosen to
take the route of showman, is no longer taken very seriously by the mainstream classical world. Frantz does have a wide popular following: his efforts to bring classical music to a wider public (laudable enough
in themselves) also led to the television show Achtung, Klassik!, which presented various stars performing excerpts of different works in a format not altogether unlike the Firestone Hour in 1950s America. As a
pure musician, however, Frantz has grown careless, something that seems to have been echoed by financial carelessness; he was relieved of his duties as Festival Director in 1994, having run things a bit too far
into the red. Still, he remains associated with the festival and will give six concerts this year, including appearances conducting the international Philharmonie der Nationen (one of these concerts will be held
in neighboring Denmark). Other festival highlights include concerts by popular a capella group The King's Sisters and the Netherlands' Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra under Riccardo Chailly.
Many summer festivals are nowhere near as large or as ambitious as those mentioned hereto, striving to take advantage of lovely venues or highlight less-well-known spots, rather than to
draw le beau monde. Notable in the former category are events such as the Mozart Festival in Würzburg (see sidebar) or the annual Schwetzingen Festival (May-June), which centers around the Baroque theater of the
summer palace of the Electors of Mannheim. May and June are also asparagus and strawberry season in Schwetzingen, so all of the region's specialties come into the limelight at once.
Another June festival takes place in the spa town of Bad Wörishofen, famed among ailing Germans as the first site of the Kneipp Kur (a homeopathic program of herbal therapy and baths,
which is now widespread at spas through Germany); for virtuoso pianist Ivo Pogorelich, this aspect of the town's history was perhaps less important than the fact that the little spot was an ideal venue for the
festival he planned, and which is designed, for the most part, around himself. Even more intimate is a venue like Heidenheim, which presents a single opera--this year, Verdi's Un Ballo in Maschera--and a concert
or two in an open-air stage under the castle in a little- known village not far from Ulm: a great way to discover a new region of the Bavarian countryside. One unusual festival that lives from its venue is the
Festival Mittel Europa, or Drei-Länder-Fest (Three State Festival), held at the intersection of Bavaria, Bohemia, and Saxony: another less-trodden corner of the world to explore.
In September, Germany's festival season effectively draws to a close. Marking its end is the Berlin Festival, which spreads throughout the venues of Germany's one real metropolis.
Cultural life in Berlin is taking all kinds of new twists and turns and remains all the more an open question, as the city gears itself up to become the reborn capital of Germany. This year, the approximately
month-long festival will focus on the relationship between France and Germany, with a major museum exhibition on 19th century French and German art, and concerts by everyone from the Berlin Philharmonic to the
City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra. Whatever its focus, the annual Berlin Festival's array of concerts, exhibitions, and operas not only celebrates the city, but helps audiences and performers alike segue
back into the routine, and the excitement, of the start of a new season.
For More Information
In North America, contact the German National Tourist Offices in New York (212) 661-7200, Los Angeles (310) 575-9799, or Toronto (416) 968- 1570.
In Germany, contact
Bayreuth Festival
Postfach 100262
95402 Bayreuth
Tel.: 011.49.921.78780
Berliner Festspiele GmbH
Budapester Straße 50
10787 Berlin
Tel.: 011.49.30.254890
Festival Mittel Europa
Tel. (Cologne); 011.49.221.500.3222
Heidenheim Festival
Tel.: 011.49.7321.327387
Munich Opera Festival
Bavarian State Opera
Postfach 100148
80539 Munich
Tel.: 011.49.89.2185.1920
Schleswig-Holstein Music Festival
Postfach 3840
24037 Kiel
Tel.: 011.49.431.579820
In Austria, contact
Bregenz Festival Postfach 311
6901 Bregenz
Tel.: 011.43.5574.49200
Salzburg Festival
Postfach 140
5010 Salzburg
Tel.: 011.43.662.8045
Music expert Anne Midgette writes from Munich.
John V. Steger:
The Man and his Town
By John W. Wozny
Few of the townspeople living in Steger, Illinois--a town 30 miles south of Chicago--today realize that at one time a man named Steger not only gave the village its name but also
provided the only livelihood the early settlers had: work at his piano factory. A bonafide American Dream story, John V. Steger lifted himself from a penniless, teenaged immigrant to a millionaire captain of
industry.
Born on March 24, 1854 to an art-dealer father in Ulm, a picturesque village in Germany's Black Forest, young John was apprenticed to a woodworker when he was only fourteen years old.
After completing his apprenticeship in three years, he set out for America. He spoke no English when he arrived in New York and had only twelve cents in his pocket. Yet, that same afternoon he already hired out
as a rough carpenter, rebuilding ice houses on the Hudson river.
Steger worked at a series of different jobs and lived in various households where he noticed that the most prominent piece of household furniture was a piano. In the booming post-Civil
War United States, the piano was not merely a musical instrument but a status symbol, sole purveyor of entertainment to thousands of homes. Built by a master craftsman and his apprentices, the ornate piece of
decorative furniture was expensive. Thus, although in great demand, only the wealthy could afford them. Steger's dream was to make the piano affordable for everyone through mass production.
Steger moved eventually from employee to shop owner after following his self-imposed golden rule of saving half of his earnings. In ten years he managed to accumulate nearly $4,000,
which allowed him to rent a store right in the heart of Chicago's busiest district on State street, buy some pianos, and start selling them.
From the outset, he was a master of consumer psychology. When he was only able to afford a second story location for his first store, he placed a sign on the street entrance admonishing
the public to: "Save $100.00 by walking up one flight of stairs."
In a few years after opening his piano store, he leased larger quarters where he could assemble the instruments, thereby cutting a costly step and lowering the selling price. From
there, Steger moved on to manufacturing; in 1891, he purchased twenty acres in the south suburb of Colombia Heights and built his factory--Steger and Sons Piano Manufacturing Company.
Steger built not only a factory but also housing for his employees, patterning the businessman George Pullman's town of Pullman, Illinois. But unlike Pullman, who charged his workers
higher than normal rent, Steger sold his houses on contract to his employees so that they too could realize the great American dream of home ownership. While Pullman was vilified for being a greedy company
landlord, Steger was adulated as a generous benefactor.
Steger scoured the local area and the continent for his cadre of master craftsmen. Against standard industry practice, which meant assigning each craftsman a piano to build, Steger made
each foreman of a specific department. He could then hire trainable but unskilled, low-cost labor and end up with a product costing far less than that of his competitors.
Years before Olds and Ford had even started their assembly lines, Steger had one operating that mass produced pianos. His master plan was so successful that in less than ten years, to
house his sales and administrative offices and showrooms, he was able to commission one of Chicago's prominent architects to build Chicago's sixth-highest building, a nineteen-story skyscraper at the corner of
Wabash and Jackson.
By this time, the Steger family had the business well under control. The oldest son Chris was in charge of the Chicago building, while the other son George was operations manager of the
factories.
John Steger's meteoric success was due in part to his fatherly concern not only for his employees but also for his community. He never lost the "old country" paternalism where
the employer considers himself father to his family of employees.
Remembering from his apprenticeship how his master took him on picnics, Steger established a worker's holiday for his plant staff and organized a "Steger Day" celebration
complete with parades, laudatory speeches, free beer, and fireworks. In time, most of the businesses in town would close on this occasion. Dignitaries and politicians from throughout the state came to enjoy the
day and bestow praise on this local industrial giant.
Even in the early years, Steger's fatherly touch had come to the fore. When 82 townspeople met to incorporate the Colombia Heights subdivision, Steger covered the costs of incorporation
and as a result, the village was aptly named Steger. He saw to it that the village had a volunteer fire department, water supply system, and steam supply system, all company provided. The Steger Congregational
Church was founded with his help and assistance. And to ensure that the village government would get off on the right track, he served the first two terms as president of the new village board.
As years went by, the Steger piano enjoyed immense popularity, not only because of its low price but also its musical quality. The locally made Steger grand piano was used in the
Vatican and in many European concert halls.
The grosses Traumbild--the grand vision of this once penny poor German immigrant--was being fulfilled. Sales skyrocketed. The factory produced 100 pianos a day, shipping them in its own
blue and white fleet of railroad cars emblazoned with the Steger name. To provide the lumber needed for the pianos, Steger also became part owner of The Flanner-Steger Land and Lumber Company in Wisconsin that
provided hundreds of acres of forests.
As success begets triumph, John V. Steger became a personage known nationally and internationally in business and financial circles. He was president and director of the Bank of Steger
and served on the board of directors of a couple Chicago area banks. The man who at one time could speak no English was now a member of the Union League Club of Chicago, one of the most exclusive and selective
private clubs in the country. He was also a member of the Chicago Heights Club, a prestigious group of area civic leaders, which honored his fiftieth birthday in 1904; more than 100 people came from all over the
United States to attend the white-tie dinner party--the most aristocratic ever staged in the Chicago area.
Although earning him plaudits from around the world, Steger's innovative ideas also created, perhaps inevitably, a certain "green- eyed monster" among his competitors. The
invidious piano manufacturing community inveigled a trade publication to do an exposè on the owner of the world's largest piano factory. In a series of scurrilous articles that ran for nearly a year, the trade
magazine attacked Steger, his relatives, his methods, and his managers. Not one to allow anyone to besmirch his Teutonic honor, he retaliated by suing the writer, the editor, and the publisher for criminal
libel. He won his case; the author was sent to the penitentiary, and the editor and publisher were each deported to their home countries.
With his two sons running the dynasty, Steger enjoyed his travels more and more, living in the Union League Club just around the corner from his Chicago office building and enjoying the
camaraderie of his fellow business moguls. He did, however, particularly enjoy visits to the plant. The one-hour train ride from downtown Chicago to Steger allowed him leisurely visits to the factory where he
kept pet goldfish (actually carp) in a water reservoir.
On a summer Sunday afternoon in 1916, after visiting his grandchildren, Steger went off to feed his pets goldfish at the plant. He suffered a fatal heart attack and fell into the
reservoir where he was later found. The next day, June 12, 1916, The Chicago Tribune's front-page banner proclaimed "Piano Magnate Drowns."
Steger died at the height of his prominence and popularity and at the pinnacle of his company's prosperity. He was spared from experiencing consumer whim switching from the piano to the
newfangled contraption, the radio.
No longer the most sought after household item, demand for the mass- produced piano dwindled away. Sales plummeted, and ten years later, Steger's grand dream suffered the market place's
death blow. Steger and Sons Piano Manufacturing Company declared bankruptcy in 1926.
The factory building that so proudly proclaimed the Steger name gave way to a shopping mall. Today, only a water tower rising high above the homes and stores and an old, faded sign on
the long- abandoned passenger train depot still carry the Steger name.
In downtown Chicago, the nineteen-story building with the name Steger fired into the perdurable terra cotta clay stands in what was once "piano row"--the heart of Chicago's
business district. Although unnoticed by thousands of persons who pass by it daily, it serves as a monument to the dreams realized by the penniless teenager from Ulm, Germany.
John Wozny writes from Steger, Illinois.
Three Countries Corner:
An Idyllic Experiment in European Unification
By John Dornberg
When Charlemagne's three bickering grandsons temporarily stopped warring against each other in 843 A.D., they divided up the Holy Roman Empire he had founded and laid the foundations
for some of the national borders of modern Europe. Charles the Bald got the western part, which became the nucleus of today's France, Louis the German took the eastern part, which became Germany, and Lothair,
the oldest of the three, got a paltry patch of territory between the two as well as the title of Holy Roman Emperor.
This "Middle Kingdom," also called "Lotharingia," did not last very long beyond Lothair's death, being divided once again by his brothers and his sons. The
geographic heart of the little realm--Baden, Alsace, and northwestern Switzerland astride the Upper Rhine--became the most contested turf in history.
But today, 50 years after World War II, this lush sumptuous region, nearly drowning in wine, rich in art and history, radiant with some of Europe's most beautiful countryside, and famed
for its cuisine, hospitality, and tourist attractions, is a kind of test tube of European unity and the place where a united Europe already works.
Because Europeans are becoming increasingly disenchanted with the idea of a centrally-run Europe as envisaged in the Maastricht Treaty and by the "Eurocrats" in Brussels, and
also reject a "Europe of the Fatherlands," as projected in the 1960s by Charles de Gaulle, there is a growing movement toward a "Europe of the Regions." This part of the former Middle Kingdom
is pioneering the idea. The Drei-Länder-Eck (Three Countries Corner), where Germany, France, and Switzerland meet, is a "Euro-Region," though one of the partners, Switzerland, neither a member of the
European Union nor of the EU's recently established Committee of the Regions.
Common ethnic and linguistic roots have made cooperation easy. The Germans, French, and Swiss who inhabit the area are all descendants of the Alemanni and speak closely related
dialects--Badisch, Alsatian, Schweizer Deutsch. But whatever the lubricant, they have certainly buried their hatchets and nowadays practice remarkable togetherness. They work by the thousands in each others'
factories; shop in each others' stores; study in each others' colleges and universities; issue tripartite monthly entertainment and culture guides, and they even protest together when their region is threatened
ecologically and environmentally.
In fact, one particular protest did much to unite the Three Countries Corner, taking place 20 years ago in Wyhl, an orchard and winegrowing village, halfway between Freiburg and
Strasbourg on the German side of the Rhine at the foot of the Kaiserstuhl mountain. In early 1975, Badenwerk A.G., a utility company of which the State of Baden-Württemberg is majority shareholder, announced
final plans to build a 1,284 megawatt nuclear power plant on a 100-acre site in a nature preserve just north of the town.
On February 18, 1975, some 300 demonstrators occupied the construction site. They were then dispersed by 800 state police armored like Medieval knights and armed with billy clubs and
water cannons. What looked like the start of a new war on the territory of the Middle Kingdom turned into a grassroots revolution.
A week later, not hundreds but thousands of protesters--from Baden, Alsace, and Basel Canton--converged on the site and stayed. They erected tents; built huts, tree houses, and
makeshift shelters; dug wells and set up field kitchens, pubs, canteens, dispensaries, pharmacies, preschools, and kindergartens. The event turned into the biggest sit-in-squat-in demonstration Europe had ever
seen.
The peaceful demonstration, during which some 10,000 Germans, French, and Swiss lived on the site, lasted more than nine months. Most demonstrators were local farmers, housewives,
members of village volunteer fire departments, or vintners. Police were powerless against so many ordinary burghers, and so, it turned out, were the courts. Finally, construction was postponed indefinitely and
eventually plans for the plant were dropped altogether.
Last year, hundreds of veterans of the Wyhl protest met for a 20th anniversary reunion at a popular gasthaus in nearby Sasbach. One of them, Peter Modler of Freiburg, said: "Our
resistance movement was not just a successful show of people power but provided the impetus for uniting the entire region."
The facts and figures of that unification are staggering.
Some 27,000 French workers commute across five Rhine bridges to jobs in Germany each day; another 33,000 travel to work in Switzerland. Thousands of Germans also have jobs in
Switzerland--1,200 from the town of Weil-am-Rhein, just north of the Basel district of Kleinbasel. Passport and customs controls between France and Germany have been totally eliminated and those on the Swiss
side are practically negligible. Along the German-Swiss frontier there are dozens of small Rhine bridges where you can drive, bicycle, or just stroll across the border virtually unnoticed and unchecked. The most
picturesque is the 600-foot-long, 200-year-old covered wooden bridge between Säckingen on the German and Stein on the Swiss side.
Because Germany has a restrictive store-closing law, the stores and markets of Mulhouse, Colmar, and Strasbourg are usually crowded to bursting with Germans on weekends. And because
German bakeries are shut on Sundays, countless Freiburgers drive 12 miles to Neuf-Brisach on Sunday mornings to get fresh croissants and baguettes from boulangeries there. Conversely, Alsatians in droves buy
their electrical appliances in Freiburg's big department stores because the selection is larger and prices are lower.
A Euro-Bus running at 20-minute intervals connects the Alsatian cities of Mulhouse and Colmar with Baden's Lörrach and Freiburg, and if you don't have a monthly commuter's ticket you
can pay in either German marks or French francs. Basel has its own regional network, and from the city's center you can ride to nearby German and French towns.
Political and business leaders promote the region jointly and secretary-general of Strasbourg's chamber of commerce René Ulrich describes it as a "Golden Triangle of Research and
Higher Education," a concept of enormous potential. Together, the four cities boast numerous universities and research institutes that cooperate with one another on projects; there are cross border classes
and lectures, with full credit, and students as well as faculty members at Freiburg, Basel, and Mulhouse carry "Regio-Passes" that allow them to use each others' facilities--from libraries and
laboratories to computer centers and cafeterias.
"For many decades, indeed for 200 years, our location as border regions and cities worked to our disadvantage," says Freiburg's lord mayor Rolf Böhme, "Nowadays, under
the aegis of European integration, that geographical situation promises great benefits. European unity must start at the edges, just the way wounds begin to heal."
The speed with which the wounds can heal will be determined by how much independence the region and its three parts have. Thus far the national governments, and in the case of Baden and
Alsace also the European Union Commission in Brussels, still play the dominant role.
Language is also a problem. Few Badeners and Baselers speak French, and, until recently, fewer and fewer Alsatians spoke German or Alsatian dialect. German was discredited in Alsace
after 1945, and although 75 percent of people over 50 still speak Alsatian, among adults under 30 it is less than half, among school-age teenagers the ratio is about 25 percent, and among those age four to ten,
less than 10 percent. But things are changing. French is becoming the first foreign language in more and more high schools in Baden. Alsace now has 70 bilingual elementary schools in which all subjects are
taught 13 hours in German, 13 hours in French each week. The aim of the program, introduced in 1991, is to have one such school in each district by the year 2000. In addition, more than 60 Strasbourg streets now
have signs giving their names in both French and Alsatian dialect: like "Rue du Dome," also called "Müenschtergässel."
Obstacles notwithstanding, if you visit the Three Countries Corner, you feel that the experiment in European unity will succeed, and the test tube in which it is being conducted is one
of Europe's most rewarding travel destinations. Besides a profusion of travel-poster villages on the German, French, and Swiss sides of the Rhine, the most significant places to see are Freiburg, Colmar, Basel,
and Strasbourg.
Freiburg
With a population 195,000, of whom 30,000 are students at its 500- year-old university, Freiburg is the place to start. It is one of Germany's most attractive towns: a city of forests,
vineyards, Gothic architecture, cozy wine taverns, gourmet eateries, splendid hotels, open air markets, and a balmy climate.
The amazing thing about Freiburg, founded in 1120 by a Duke of Zähringen and under Austrian Habsburg rule from 1386 until 1805, when Napoleon assigned it to the Grand Duchy of Baden, is
that it is so beautiful and picturesque, despite having been almost 80 percent destroyed during World War II. Fortunately, its most spectacular buildings survived that 1944 air raid, and nearly everything else
was carefully reconstructed, brick by brick, gargoyle by gargoyle, according to old photographs and etchings. It is a city for walking, and the entire Old Quarter, still marked by Gothic town gates, is a
pedestrian zone, closed to all vehicles except clanging streetcars and bicycles.
Freiburg's greatest architectural gem is its cathedral, the Minster of Our Lady, begun around 1200 and completed some three centuries later. Its open lacework steeple, soaring to 370
feet, has been called "the most beautiful church tower of Christianity's finest period." The cathedral is a treasure chest of ecclesiastical art: magnificent stained glass windows, paintings by Holbein
the Younger, 17th century tapestries, and a main altar painting by Hans Baldung Grien.
A stroll through Freiburg's narrow, twisting cobblestone streets is like a walk into the past, and nearly every corner or bend offers a surprise. Two 16th century patrician houses were
joined to create the Renaissance style city hall. There are a number of other Gothic churches, and some of the university buildings date from its founding in 1457.
Freiburg is also a must for those who regard pleasures of the palate half the fun of traveling. The city has a dozen restaurant that merit stars or toques, and one of them, Zum Roten
Bären, has been in business continually since 1311. Wine is the lifeblood of this city, located in the heart of the Kaiserstuhl and Breisgau districts. No other vineyards in Germany get as much sun as those
around Freiburg.
Colmar
Colmar, 28 miles west of Freiburg by way of German Breisach and French Neuf-Brisach, flanks the little Lauch River and is filigreed by canals that give the name Petite Venise (Little
Venice) to a charming district of quaint half-timbered houses. Its history goes back to the 8th century and Charlemagne, who built a residence there, Villa Columbaria, around which artisans and peasants settled.
By 1226, when it was granted the status of a free imperial city with its own jurisdiction and coinage, it was a major trading and cultural center of the Upper Rhine valley. Much of that Medieval legacy is
preserved in its architecture, especially in numerous merchants' and craftsmen's houses and in the Gothic churches of the maze-like Old Quarter.
Frédéric Auguste Bartholdi, sculptor of the Statue of Liberty, was born and worked in Colmar. His family home is now the Musée Bartholdi. Even more important is the Musée d'Unterlinden,
located in the buildings of a 13th century convent. It is one of France's leading art galleries, drawing almost as many visitors as the Louvre in Paris. The greatest masterwork on exhibit is the 16th century
"Issenheim Altarpiece" by Matthias Grünewald.
The historic center is a pedestrian zone, but if your legs give out, a tourist mini-train makes the rounds almost hourly.
Must-sees, besides the museums, are the 13th century Dominican Church with stupendous stained glass windows and an altarpiece by Breisach master Martin Schongauer; St. Martin's Church,
which features fine stone carvings and an 18th century organ by Johann Silbermann; the 15th century Customs House, and the Maison de Tètes, named for the sculpted heads in its gables.
Although you could take in the major sights in a day, that leaves no time for strolling, ogling, and soaking up atmosphere, nor for indulging in Colmar's superb cuisine.
Choucroute--wine cured sauerkraut with chunks of pork, ham, bacon, and sausage--is the most famous dish. Colmar abounds with Michelin-starred restaurants, and the two-star Schillinger is the best.
Basel
Basel, 45 miles south of Colmar or Freiburg, population 200,000, is Switzerland's second largest city but most underrated tourist town. It has an image problem, caused partly by its
principal businesses-- trade, banking, and chemicals. In fact, though, it is hard to imagine another city so rich in culture, so picturesque, and so beautifully situated. Or where else might you find 27 major
museums, including one of Europe's best endowed art galleries; a university where Erasmus, Paracelsus, Calvin, Nietzsche, and Karl Japsers once taught; a kaleidoscope of Medieval architecture? And it takes days
to explore.
Basel's history goes back to Roman time. In the Dark Ages and Charlemagne's time it was a powerful prince-bishopric, and in 1025, it became part of the Holy Roman Empire. For centuries
its guilds were in conflict with the Habsburgs, whose ancestral castle is 35 miles southwest, and in 1501 it joined the Swiss Confederation as the 12th canton. By then, Basel was one of the richest cities along
the Rhine.
Except for damage caused by a 1356 earthquake, it has remained unchanged. A good place to start exploring is on the Münsterhügel at the Minster, the richly carved exteriors of which
date from the 12th and 13th centuries. The city abounds with other fine churches, all full of ecclesiastical art. Near the Minster is the Kunstmuseum, the world's oldest public art gallery, established in 1662.
The heart of Basel's Old Quarter is the 16th century City Hall on the Marktplatz, where there is a daily flowers and produce market. This district is a maze of hilly, winding streets lined by half-timbered
burgher houses, Baroque mansions, and Rococo town palaces. Narrow lanes and passageways, some so narrow that there is barely room for two-way pedestrian traffic, lace the area.
And Basel, too, is a gourmet's paradise. Enea Silvio de Piccolimini, the humanist professor who founded the University of Basel in 1460 and later became Pope Pius II, once said of
Baselers: "Most of them are devotees of good living and spend most of their time at the table. " Things have not changed much in over 500 years.
Strasbourg
Strasbourg, 260,000 population (of which 50,000 are students and 10, 000 are "Eurocrats"), about 90 miles north of Basel by way of Colmar and the picture-postcard winegrowing
towns and villages of the Route du Vin, is not only the capital of Alsace but also the seat of the European Parliament and the Council of Europe. Founded in 10 B.C. as a Roman stronghold, it was a free city of
the Holy Roman Empire from 1201 until brought under French rule in 1681. From 1870 to 1944, it changed hands between France and Germany four times.
Almost everything in the Old Town is within walking distance. Its landmark and greatest attraction is the magnificent 980-year-old Cathédrale Notre Dame. Besides the stone lattice-work
spire and the elaborate facade, the church's treasures include 12th to 14th century stained glass windows, and a unique 15th century astronomical clock.
Near the cathedral are five major museums. Musts are the Musée des Beaux Arts, which exhibits Italian, Spanish, and Dutch-Flemish old master paintings, the Musée des Arts Décoratifs,
which has the finest collection of ceramics and faiences in France, and the Musée d'Art Moderne, featuring modern and contemporary painting and sculptures, including a substantial collection of works by Jean
Arp, who was born in Strasbourg.
The city's most picturesque quarter, lined by scores of half- timbered houses with restaurants, taverns, boutiques, and giftshops, is called "La Petite France," though it
looks as German as it was in Medieval times when tanners, millers, and fishermen lived and worked there.
Strasbourg, like Colmar, is studded with Michelin-rated restaurants. The coziest and most photogenic is the three-story, half-timbered 16th century Maison Kammerzell. The best, each
with three stars, are the pricey Crocodile and Buerhiesel.
Though it entails a startling architectural change of pace from Medieval to modern, a visit to Strasbourg would be incomplete without the steel-and-glass European Parliament
building--if only to see the symbol of European unity for which this Three Countries Corner of Baden, Alsace, and Basel is the vibrant and idyllic test tube. As Freiburg's Mayor Rolf Böhme says, "If Europe
doesn't work here, it will never work."
Contributing editor John Dornberg writes from Munich.
WHERE TO STAY
FREIBURG
Zum Roten Bären, near one of the Medieval city gates, is not only one of Germany's oldest inns, established in 1311, but a charming small hotel with 25 rooms. Doubles DM 250 to DM 310
($172 to $213) including buffet breakfast. 12 Oberlinden, D-79098 Freiburg im Breisgau, Tel. 011.49.761.387870, Fax. 011.49.761.3878717.
Hotel am Rathaus, virtually adjacent to the 16th century hall, is a moderately priced small hotel with 40 rooms. Doubles DM 175 to DM 200 ($120 to $137) buffet breakfast included. 4
Rathausgasse, D-79098 Freiburg im Breisgau, Tel. 011.49.761.31129, Fax. 011.49.761.286514.
COLMAR
Hostellerie le Maréchal, right on the banks of a canal in the "Petite Venise" district, is a combination of four 16th century half timbered houses with 28 rooms. Doubles Ffr.
600 to Ffr.900 ($120 to $180) depending on view and location. 4 Place Six Montagnes Noires, F-68000 Colmar, Tel. 011.33.89.416032, Fax. 011.33.89.245940.
Hotel Centre Underlinden, just a minute's walk from the Musée d'Unterlinden, has 76 rooms in the budget category. Doubles Ffr. 500 ($100). Rue Golbery, F-68000 Colmar, Tel.
011.33.89.417171, Fax. 011. 33.89.238271.
BASEL
Hotel Merian, on the right bank of the Rhine in Kleinbasel, is a nearly perfect small hotel. All 63 rooms are modern and the work of a leading interior decorator, and half of them look
out on the river, the Minster and the Old Quarter. Doubles Sfr. 190 to Sfr. 220 ($158 to $183) depending on size and view. 2 Rheingasse, CH-4058 Basel, Tel. 011.41.61.6810000, Fax. 011.41.61.6811101.
Hotel Kraft, practically next door to the Merian, also offers views of the river, Minster district, and Old Quarter. Doubles range from Sfr. 130 to Sfr. 260 ($108 to $216), depending on
view and whether or not they have private bath. 12 Rheingasse, CH-4058 Basel, Tel. 011.41. 61.6918877, Fax. 011.41.61.6910907.
STRASBOURG
Hotel des Rohan, practically next to the Cathedral, offers 36 rooms furnished in Louis XV fashion or rustic regional decor. Doubles Ffr. 500 to Ffr. 600 ($100 to $120). 17 Rue Maroquin,
F-67000 Strasbourg, Tel. 011.33.88.328511, Fax. 011.33.88.756537.
Hotel Europe, a 300-year-old half-timbered house in the heart of the La Petite France district, has 60 rooms and was once a stagecoach inn at which Voltaire and Goethe stayed. Doubles
Ffr. 450 to Ffr. 750 ($90 to $150), depending on size and view. 38 Rue du Fossé-des- Tanneurs, F-67000 Strasbourg, Tel. 011.33.88.321788, Fax. 011.33.88. 756545.
|
 |
|
|
|
Home Page || About German Life Current Issue || Magazine Archives || Web Guide
Subscriptions
|| Advertising || Submissions
|
|
|
Copyright 1995-2007 German Life. All rights reserved. Reproduction in whole or in part is prohibited without the written permission of the publisher. German Life is a registered trademark of Zeitgeist Publishing, Inc.
For more information contact publisher@germanlife.com
|
|
|
Created and maintained by the German Corner.
|
|
