When Lola Montez danced on the table: The Beethoven Festival of 1845
Nowadays, Beethoven festivals are almost routine. They take place annually. There is stable funding (we will draw a veil over the years 1993 to 1998), early planning by the artistic director and a firm foothold in the city’s society. At the first Beethoven Festival in 1845, everything was very different.
The occasion for the celebrations was not only the 75th birthday of the master, who died in 1827, but above all the inauguration of the Beethoven monument by the Dresden sculptor Ernst Hähnel on Münsterplatz. It all stemmed from what we would today call a ‘civic initiative’. At its helm was August Wilhelm Schlegel, one of the greats of the German scholarly world. His successor was a less fortunate choice. Heinrich Carl Breidenstein, the university’s ‘music director’, was a proven expert but had a difficult character. He was always controversial in Bonn society and was also openly hostile due to his enthusiasm for modern music (apart from Beethoven, he admired Liszt and Berlioz). He was simply not up to the task of organising a music festival with hundreds of guests in a small town without infrastructure or experience (Bonn had less than 20,000 inhabitants at the time). The matter was further complicated by the fact that King Frederick William IV and his guest Queen Victoria intended to attend. The support of Franz Liszt, which had already been needed to finance the monument, was a double-edged sword. Liszt’s connections were helpful, but his exuberant self-confidence was not. He polarised opinions and virtually invited criticism.
When Liszt arrived in Bonn a few weeks before the festival, at which he was to conduct alongside court conductor of Kurhessen Spohr, he immediately made his mark. He flatly rejected Breidenstein’s idea of using the Hussars’ riding arena in front of the northern city wall as a concert hall – according to a contemporary source, a ‘stinking hut’. The result was perhaps the greatest miracle in Bonn’s architectural history, which is otherwise not particularly rich in miracles: in less than two weeks, a consortium of Bonn carpenters, with the support of Cologne cathedral master builder Zwirner, erected a wooden festival hall in the ‘Raess’schen Gärten’. Today, we know this area as the car park in the Viktoriakarrée. With a height of around 7 metres, the building measured approximately 62 × 23 metres. However, it is difficult for us today to understand how contemporaries calculated that this space of just over 1,400 square metres could accommodate up to 3,000 visitors plus an orchestra and choir. The Bayernzelt at Pützchens Markt needs more than 2,000 square metres for such large numbers. In any case, the concerts are said to have been attended by around 2,000 people each. Incidentally, the hall was sold for demolition a few weeks after the end of the festival. The wish of the correspondent of the Leipziger illustrirte Zeitung thus remained unfulfilled. At the end of September, he had wished the hall a long life as a music venue and not as a ‘fool’s hall’. This is somewhat reminiscent of the current discussions about the use of today’s Beethoven Hall.
It was thanks in no small part to Liszt that hundreds of guests from out of town had gathered in Bonn on the eve of the celebrations. In addition to Beethoven enthusiasts including many Englishmen and a large group of Frenchmen led by Hector Berlioz, Liszt’s personal fan club also attended (mainly ladies who were almost hysterically devoted to him). Among them was the ‘it girl’ of her generation, the dancer and scandalous Lola Montez. How close she was to the maestro during those days was obvious.
The festival got off to a good start. The opening concert on the evening of August 10th, conducted by Louis Spohr, featured the Ninth and the Missa Solemnis. Even the critical critics were satisfied – although Spohr admitted that he had not known the Missa at all and had had to learn it in a crash course shortly before the concert. The next day was a day of rest, so to speak. The programme was limited to christening a ‘steamboat’ named Ludwig van Beethoven and taking it on a day trip to Nonnenwerth. On this and many other occasions, the people of Bonn held out their hands. The out-of-town guests found this unusual, and even local Gottfried Kinkel complained about the rampant commercialism and excessive merchandising.
The main reason for the festival, the unveiling of the monument on 12 August, was no longer under a lucky star. After a high mass in the cathedral, during which Berlioz had to climb over a barrier to reach his seat, the crowd gathered tightly packed on the cathedral square. It took an hour and a half before Their Highnesses, coming from Brühl, appeared on the balcony of the Fürstenberg Palace, today’s post office. The festive song composed by Breidenstein and ‘sang by a male choir’ was blown away by the wind, as was his speech, which was delivered too quietly. The unveiling itself, however, was not the ‘scandal’ that many later generations would have us believe. Queen Victoria merely noted in her diary that it was unfortunate that the statue could only be seen from the back. It was not she, but King Frederick William IV who expressed his surprise, audible only to his immediate neighbours. Alexander von Humboldt, standing next to him, made the matter the most famous anecdote in Bonn’s city history with his reply: ‘Your Majesty, please bear in mind that Beethoven was also a rough fellow during his lifetime.’
The final day was the 13th and indeed an unlucky day. The grand morning ‘artists’ concert’ began an hour late, even though the king had asked for it to start without him and his guests. The egomaniac Liszt nevertheless delayed the start because he did not want to conduct his own cantata without royal accompaniment. This was untenable, but as luck would have it, the distinguished guests arrived just as the piece ended. So the maestro started from the beginning. The rest of the audience was not amused. After a few more items on the programme, the princes had to leave for Cologne to visit the cathedral. They were once again among themselves and had two more hours of music to endure. When it was time for lunch, most of the audience left the hall (‘Too much torment!’). The concert lasted until half past one.
The low point in the evening was reached at the banquet in the ‘Hotel zum goldenen Stern’ on the market square. Despite many toasts, Liszt did not acknowledge the French delegation. This led to turmoil and the ladies present fled. Only Lola Montez remained and danced on the table. Liszt had to lock her in her hotel room, where she promptly smashed the furniture.
Today’s Beethoven festivals are more civilised. The only reminder of 1845 is the iconic monument on Münsterplatz. And perhaps that’s just as well.
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