Potsdamers’ dance to music of time brings back Prussian past
The boom town near Berlin seems determined to leap over its East German past
Tourists walk in the garden of Sanssouci Palace in Potsdam. Photograph: Johannes Eisele/AFP/Getty Images
On a mild Saturday night in Potsdam, a hundred people are dancing in a circle outside Prussian King Frederick the Great’s Sanssouci palace. As a baroque melody echoes around the curved colonade, the smiling strangers concentrate on their twirls and bows as they are drilled in the art of court dancing.
The dance mistress and a few in the crowd are in historical costume – silk gowns, breeches even the odd powdered wig – but most of the older crowd are either in rain jackets or various shades of beige. We’re at the annual Palace Evening, attracting almost 30,000 people to enjoy a drink, readings and music in the former royal park.
The 300-hectare space, roughly half the size of Dublin’s Phoenix Park, is like a housing estate of Prussian palaces. Just when you think you’ve seen them all you turn a corner and encounter another: vast and pompous like the New Palace, or low-slung and more modest like the yellow palace of Sanssouci – French for without a care. Potsdam was imperial Berlin’s Versailles or Windsor, where Frederick the philosopher king liked to make music, plan wars and muse with Voltaire. At the park’s old windmill, blades turning steadily in the still night air, half a dozen men gather bearing the white and black Prussian flag. It’s an odd sight considering that Prussia, the linchpin of the first German Reich, was abolished in 1947.
Marco Schönberger, the group’s leader, doffs his three-cornered hat and shows off his iron cross medal. “We’re not far-right or anything, we just like this chance to celebrate Prussia’s positive legacy,” he said. “It wasn’t all wars and militiarism; it was a very progressive state, too.”
On nights like this Potsdam seems far away from Berlin, 40km to the east, and decoupled entirely from the surrounding state of Brandenburg. It inspired Bach’s famous concertos and several travel volumes by Effi Briest author Theodor Fontane. More recently cabaret singer Rainald Grebe’s vicious cabaret ode to “Brandenburg” mocked the state for being so depopulated that “three neo-Nazis stand on a hill and find no one to beat up”.
Almost the size of Ulster and Connacht combined, with just 2.4 million people, Brandenburg’s vast Lausitz area, where wolves once again roam wild, is a world away from Potsdam. When East Germany’s 14 districts – 15 if you include East Berlin – were merged into six “new” Länder or federal states in 1990, Potsdam was made Brandenburg’s capital.
The town is booming, its population is growing and many millionaires – modest industrialists, reedy quizshow hosts, leather-faced fashion designers – have moved here rather than to Berlin, settling into expensive piles on surrounding lakes.
While Berlin pitches itself as “poor but sexy”, Potsdam is rich and becoming more Prussian by the day. For centuries Brandenburg was the home of the Hohenzollern family, and nucleus of their latter Prussian empire.
In East German times much of that historic vista was obliterated. Now the East German architecture is vanishing in favour of Prussian reproductions. The pinnacle of this trend lies across the river Havel from the main train station, a pink and grey facade palace that looks centuries old but opened its doors just last January.