Los Angeles Times Staff Writer
August 22, 2004
You can't get lost in Dresden. Wherever you go, you can see the stately white
dome of the Frauenkirche, as much a landmark in this eastern German city as St.
Peter's is in Rome.
It isn't just that the church towers 300 feet
above Dresden's lovely Baroque skyline, that its colossal dome was an
architectural marvel when consecrated in 1734 or that it stood for religious
tolerance in a Protestant city ruled by the Catholic electors of Saxony. Even
its extraordinary acoustics, which inspired composer Richard Wagner, don't fully
explain its profound meaning to Dresden and the world.
Its significance
stems from its destruction in the waning days of World War II. The Allied
firestorm, dropped from the sky the night of Feb. 13, 1945, incinerated up to
80% of the city and killed 25,000 and maybe more. (Casualty figures vary
because of the many refugees passing through the city at the time.) The
Frauenkirche, or Church of Our Lady, continued to stand above the burning pyre
until, structurally undermine d, it collapsed without warning the morning of
Feb. 15.
For the next 50 years, it lay in rubble on the city's
historic marketplace, a symbol of the devastation of war.
Now it has
risen again, rebuilt of bits and pieces salvaged from the ruins, in an 11-year,
$175-million project funded largely by international donations. From America
came almost $3 million, raised by Günter Blobel, a 1999 Nobel laureate for
medicine who donated nearly $1 million in prize money to the project. As an 8
1/2 -year-old war refugee, he passed through Dresden when it was intact. "For a
child," he said of the Dresden of that day, "it was like a fantasy."
The completion of the Frauenkirche's exterior this summer was marked by the
placement of a golden cross and orb atop the cupola, a replica of the 18th
century original. It was made by British silversmith Alan Smith, whose father
flew a bomber to Dresden that night in 1945.
The interior is scheduled
to be finished late next year, just in time for the 800th birthday celebration
of the southeastern German city in 2006.
Dresden as it used
to be
To prepare for the event, museums, gardens, squares, palaces,
the railway station and whole city blocks are being renovated — leaving,
for now, little unmarked by the unlovely signs of construction.
When the
scaffolding finally comes down, it won't be hard to imagine what Dresden was
before World War II: cultivated, pleasure-loving, one of Europe's most
cherished "grand tour" cities, filled with Italian Masters and rare Oriental
porcelain, the architectural apogee of the German Baroque.
I came to
Dresden last month seeking this reincarnated city and, more generally, the lost,
urbane world of Eastern Europe that faintly whispers in such places as Krakow,
Poland, and Riga, Latvia. I flew from Paris to Berlin, then drove south through
the lush heartland of Saxony, close to the Polish and Czech borders. The
carefully husbanded fields were bursting with sunflowers and bore no trace of
the horrors of war.
Dresdeners understandably want to put World War II
and the mean, dull years under communism behind them. I could not, because both
are so much a part of the city's remarkable story. I took two books with me:
Frederick Taylor's recently published "Dresden: Tuesday, February 13, 1945,"
which contradicts a rising tide of opinion about the needlessness and immorality
of Dresden's destruction, and "Slaughterhouse-Five," Kurt Vonnegut's 1969 novel
in which the time-traveling protagonist keeps getting shunted back to the
Dresden of 1945.
Christoph Munch, a spokesman for the Dresden Tourist
Promotion Board, labors to correct the misconception that the city is a pile of
rubble interspersed with Soviet-era apartment blocks. "When I go to America,"
he told me, "people say it must be terrible to live in Dresden."
Terrible isn't a word I'd use to describe it now.
Driving in, I saw it
from afar, on an easy bend of the Elbe River, all salt-and-pepper- colored
sandstone and Baroque whirligigs that look more like millinery than
architecture. The old part of the city, or Altstadt, sits high above the river
on a graceful terrace that 18th century playwright Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
called the "balcony of Europe."
With its forested ridges, castles and
vineyards, the Elbe Valley has just been named a UNESCO World Heritage Site.
Even in the heart of the city, the river retains its bucolic character, with
more meadowlands at its flanks than stone embankments. I spied people in the
middle of town, pitching tents, sunbathing and pushing kayaks into the
current.
With no skyscrapers and a population of just half a million,
Dresden is an open, airy city, easy to navigate. Signs directed me to the
Kempinski Hotel Taschenbergpalais, another handsomely renovated Baroque
landmark, pale yellow and trimmed with ornate white molding, occupying a city
block and enclosing a courtyard. My elegant chamber on the northeast corner had
a view of the Frauenkirche an d a ceiling higher than the room was wide.
The Taschenbergpalais was built in 1705, conveniently close to the
royal palace, for Countess Anna Constantia von Cosel, the mistress of Augustus
the Strong. Modeling himself on Louis XIV of France, he ruled Saxony with
flourish from 1694 to 1733 and eventually became king of Poland.
It was
Augustus the Strong and his son Augustus III (1696-1763), both passionate
builders and collectors, who gave Dresden its great Baroque art and
architecture. To better understand the style, which many contemporaries
consider over the top, even vulgar, I visited the Zwinger, a large, rectangular
pleasure ground enclosed by galleries, towers and gates west of
Taschenbergpalais.
To walk through the Zwinger is to feel your spirits
rise. Nearly everywhere you look, from the gold-gilded Crown Gate on the
southwest side to the adjacent Rampart Pavilion, with its twin curving
staircases, there is elaboration. Naked stone satyrs, putti and nymphs wreathe
its archways , gaze down from the balustrades of the upper terrace and
congregate around the pool and fountain, blissfully unashamed to bare their
generous breasts and behinds.
The buildings around the courtyard are
occupied by three of the 12 museums that make up Dresden's seemingly boundless
State Art Collections, a great part of it amassed by Augustus the Strong and
Augustus III.
That afternoon I visited the Zwinger's Porcelain Museum.
It's a natural in a city known for fine white pottery like that made in China
but not fabricated in Europe until 1706 when an alchemist working for Augustus
the Strong set up a secret workshop in nearby Meissen. Together with Oriental
objets d'art acquired by the porcelain-mad elector, notable examples of Meissen
china, as it came to be called, are displayed in the museum, including a zoo of
almost life-size animals: peacocks, sheep, foxes, lions and tigers.
Then it was on to perhaps the city's most renowned museum, the Old Masters
Picture Gallery, at the north co rner of the Zwinger, with paintings chockablock
on the walls. People naturally gravitate to Raphael's "Sistine Madonna," with
its much-reproduced putti gazing up at Mary and Jesus. But every room holds
amazements: Canaletto's detailed Dresden cityscapes, massive Tintorettos and
Veroneses on biblical themes, Rembrandt's beguiling "Saskia With a Red Flower."
I had dinner at Alte Meister, a sophisticated restaurant adjacent to
the museum. Forget sauerbraten and strudel. I ordered cold, clear
consommé, topped with bits of tomato, and baby free-range chicken in a
sauce of chanterelles, accompanied by a glass of crisp German
Chardonnay.
Views of the city
For the
next few days, I roamed around Dresden, climbing the tower of the Kreuzkirche,
or Church of the Holy Cross, to view the old town from on high, with the Elbe
River separating it from the new town to the north. From this perch I could see
the suburbs, some of which were leveled by World War II bombing and soullessly
rebuilt during the Soviet era, others still gracefully Victorian, with wide,
tree-lined boulevards.
The huge Grosser Garten, with its zoo and
botanical garden, spread southeast of the city center and about half a mile
south lay the Hauptbahnhof, or main railway station. It is being rebuilt in a
way that will conserve early 20th century elements and introduce high-tech new
ones, such as a fabric roof.
Tourists spend most of their time in the
Baroque Altstadt, north of the Frauenkirche and market square. It's a small
place, easy to appreciate in a casual stroll, with a short but lively restaurant
row on Munzgasse Street, yielding directly to delightful Bruhle Terrace above
the Elbe. There Dresdeners sprawl, sleeping on the grass like women along the
Seine in Impressionist paintings, and street musicians hold forth. I gave a
euro to a girl in a pinafore for a few strains of Palestrina.
On its
west side, the terrace descends in a grand flight of steps to Palace Square,
bounded by the towering facade of the Hofkirche, and the Geor- genbau gate. The
royal palace, an architectural mélange dating from 1530, has been under
renovation since 1990 but is scheduled to be completed for 2006. For now you
can enter its stables, lined by handsome white Tuscan arches and the occasional
rack of antlers; outside, a porcelain tile mural depicts more than 100 members
of the Saxon royal house. You can also peek at the royal precincts through a
break in the walls on Schlossstrasse or visit the three Dresden State Art
Collections inside: the armory; the print, drawing and photography museum; and,
soon, Augustus the Strong's priceless Green Vault, the royal treasury.
I
got a tour of the treasury museum in the making from Director Dirk Syndram, who
said Augustus the Strong put his riches on display to impress his subjects and
assure his son's succession to the Polish throne. In September, half of the
Green Vault will open, with 16th century silver caskets, ivory frigates,
jewel-encrusted nau tilus shells and a show-stopping gold, diamond and enamel
miniature replica of India's court of Grand Mogul. In 2006, more incredible
gewgaws, including a storied 41-carat green diamond, will go on display.
It is just such a diamond I should have been wearing when I went one night to
see the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater at the Semper Opera, beside the royal
palace and Zwinger on Theater Square. It was designed by Gottfried Semper and
opened in 1841. It is pale green inside, with delicate molding, like a cameo,
and a magnificent Baroque drop in front of the proscenium.
I also
listened to classical music. One night I went to the Frauenkirche to hear the
Epoca Barocca quartet play Handel, Corelli and Vivaldi. The concert was in the
newly completed undercroft, but when I entered I got a glimpse of the inside of
the church — a lofty space where, on several occasions, Johann Sebastian
Bach played the organ.
On Sunday morning, I went to a service at the
Roman Catholic Hofkirche, c hiefly to hear hymns played on the booming organ
made, like the one at the Frauenkirche, by 18th century master Gottfried
Silbermann. The Saxon electors' basilica has a soaring, slender spire almost as
tall as that of the Frauenkirche, a massive altarpiece of Christ's ascension by
Anton Raphael Mengs and an ornate Baroque pulpit.
A castle
cruise
There was time to take a river cruise on the spit-and-polish
1929 steamship Leipzig, east past three romantic villas perched high above the
Elbe in the suburb of Loschwitz, then under the Blue Wonder, a filigreed steel
suspension bridge built about the same time as the Eiffel Tower. My destination
was Pillnitz Castle, the summer residence of the Saxon electors, designed by
Matthäus Daniel Pöppelmann for Augustus the Strong, who traveled there
by gondola. Three wings border a formal garden, two of them tangerine-colored
with chinoiserie gables, lantern-shaped chimneys and Chinese friezes on the
facades. The surrounding park is lush and well tended, shaded by mature copper
beech, elm and pine trees.
One day I drove to Moritzburg Castle, the
hunting lodge of Augustus the Strong. It's on an artificial island in a lake
about 30 minutes northwest of town. It's imposing but kitschy, decorated inside
with several herds worth of antlers. Even in the formal banqueting hall they
line the walls floor to ceiling.
There is little in tourist Dresden to
recall the catastrophe of 1945, but I felt compelled to seek out a reminder, so
on the way back from Moritzburg Castle, I stopped in nearby Heidefriedhof
cemetery, where the ashes of thousands who died in the firestorm were buried in
mass graves. It's a strange, somber place without crosses and angels, just
plots in a pine forest.
Confused, I found two attendants and tried to
ask whether there was a World War II memorial in the cemetery. They spoke only
German but directed me down a tree-lined path. At the end, I found a stone
circle surrounded by the names of World War II disaster sites, including
Dresden.
The Luftwaffe poured hellfire over England during World War II.
Taylor's "Dresden" reports that in spring 1942, Germany sent bombers to Exeter,
Canterbury, Norwich and York. Their orders — as Nazi spokesman Baron
Gustav Braun von Stum is said to have told the press — were to destroy
"every building in England marked with three stars in the Baedeker Guide." The
Allies reciprocated, wasting one German city after another. All the while,
Dresden remained untouched, too beautiful and historic to target, people
thought, until that winter night just months before the end of the war.
It's frivolous, perhaps, to rue the destruction of tourist sites in the same
breath as the human casualties of war. But to lose a Frauenkirche is to lose
history, art and culture that cannot easily be recovered. In Dresden, they have
been, which makes the city doubly precious.
*
(BEGIN TEXT OF
INFOBOX)
Baroque landscape
GETTING THERE:
From
LAX, Lufthansa and Air Canada offer connecting flights (change of plane) to
Dresden. Restricted round-trip fares begin at $940.
I flew to Berlin
and rented a car. It's about a two-hour drive, the same as by train.
Lufthansa, Air France, KLM, British and Swiss offer connecting flights to
Berlin. Restricted round-trip fares begin at $940.
TELEPHONES:
To call the numbers below from the U.S., dial 011 (the international
dialing code), 49 (country code for Germany) and the local number.
WHERE
TO STAY:
Kempinski Hotel Taschenbergpalais Dresden, Taschenberg
3, 01067, Dresden; 351-49120, http://www.kempinski-dresden.de , is
one of the premier hotels in the city center in the renovated palace of Countess
Cosel, the mistress of August the Strong. Doubles begin at $350.
Hotel Bülow Residenz, Rähnitzgasse 19, 01097, Dresden;
351-80030,
http://www.buelow-residenz.de , is a small, elegant hotel just across the
Elbe River from the city center, part of the Relais & Châteaux group.
Doubles $270.
Hilton Dresden, An der Frauenkirche 5, 01067,
Dresden; 351-86420, http://www.dresden.hilton.com , enjoys
the best location of any hotel in the city, right across the street from the
rebuilt Frauenkirche. It's a modern building with contemporary décor,
several restaurants and a health club. Doubles, $140, though Hilton special
rates and packages are sometimes available.
WHERE TO EAT:
Caroussel, Hotel Bülow Residenz (see above) is a formal restaurant
with pitch-perfect service and a sophisticated French-German menu. A
four-course dinner, without wine, costs $93.
Italienisches
Dörfchen, 3 Theaterplatz, 351-498160, is a historic building on theater
square, overlooking the Elbe River, with six restaurants, including a beer
garden. Ca sual to elegant.
Alte Meister, Theaterplatz 1A,
351-4810426, is a pretty cafe restaurant with umbrella tables, just outside the
Old Masters Picture Gallery in the Zwinger. Two-course dinner, with a glass of
wine, about $36.
TO LEARN MORE:
Dresden Tourist
Information, Schinkelwache/Theater Square, P.O. Box 120952, 01010, Dresden;
351-491920 http://www.dresden-tourist.de .
German National Tourist Office, (800) 651-7010, http://www.cometogermany.com .
— Susan Spano