The White cross zählt zu den ältesten Gasthäusern Innsbrucks. Glaubt man der hoteleigenen Chronik, so öffnete es seine Pforten bereits 1465, als Innsbruck unter Siegmund dem Münzreichen zur wichtigsten Stadt Tirols aufzusteigen begann. Das schmale Haus bildete einen Teil der Laubengänge der Herzog-Friedrich-Straße, der damaligen Hauptverkehrsader durch die Stadt. Verlässlich bestätigt ist das Gasthaus am Upper town square since the 16th century under its former owner Achazi Zürler. The most famous guest in the history of the hotel was Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756 - 1791), who stayed here on one of his trips to Italy. His manager and father wanted to showcase the talents of the young genius, who was already known throughout the empire in his youth, in Tyrol. Perhaps Austria's most successful export gave a concert in the Palais Trapp in Innsbruck on 17 December 1769 at the tender age of 13. Although this one performance was not enough to make Innsbruck a lasting tourist attraction on the subject of Mozart, the hotel is still recognised as an important tourist destination thanks to a plaque commemorating the highly talented guest. Mozart House known. Six years Post Mozartem The inn received its official name under the ownership of Nikolaus Benz White Cross Inn. Wie viele Lokale wurde auch die altehrwürdige Gaststätte in der Altstadt im Laufe des 19. Jahrhunderts dank der gesellschaftlichen Umbrüche zum Treffpunkt von Bürgern und Studenten. Es wurde nicht nur fröhlich getrunken und getanzt. 1904 nahmen die als Fatti di Innsbruck events that have gone down in history have their origin in the White cross. An artist was killed in the violent street fighting between the police and German and Italian-speaking students. In the aftermath of the clashes, the furnishings and interior of the inn were completely destroyed by the wild mob in a patriotic storm of indignation, with the exception of a portrait of Emperor Franz Josef.

Due to many renovations to the interior, little remains of the old Gothic structure. In 1926, Rudolf Stolz gave the façade the striking plaster relief in the typical style of the interwar period, Tyrolean Modernism. The similarity with the painting on the opposite façade, which was completed only a short time later Weinhaus Happ is amazing. The typical bay windows of the old town are proudly adorned with grapevines and two winegrowers. St Urban, the patron saint of winegrowers and protector against drunkenness, watches over the scenery. The colourful painting blends in harmoniously with the old town and the street sign of the White cross on. Renovations were carried out again in 1952 and 2020. The pub was moved from the ground floor to the top floor. The bar Blue Brigitte im Dachgeschoss des sechsstöckigen Gebäudes zählt zu Innsbrucks beliebtesten Lounge Bars samt tollem Ausblick über die Dächer der Altstadt.

Under one of the arcades near the entrance to the Old Town lies the Quaternion Eagle, a remarkable symbol of Habsburg power during Maximilian’s era. The Quaternion Eagle, also called the Blood-Ban Eagle, represented the political hierarchy of the Middle Ages and the Early Modern period. It united the most important institutions of feudal legislation. The double-headed eagle symbolized the monarchy. Beneath its wings, the coats of arms of the individual states of the Holy Roman Empire find protection. In the top row are the coats of arms of the prince-electors who elected the emperor. The four secular electors—Bohemia, Palatinate, Saxony, Brandenburg—and the three ecclesiastical electors—Trier, Cologne, Mainz—were, perhaps for symmetry, complemented by the coat of arms of the Podestà of Rome. The unifying element is the crucified Christ, who brings together the lands and the empire. In the feudal system, the Church was considered the representative of this Maiestas Domini on earth. The four shields above the eagle symbolize the royal houses of France, England, Sicily, and Scotland, which, alongside the Habsburgs, were regarded as anointed and thus equal kings.

The painting of the Quaternion Eagle was created in 1496 on the house of the then city judge Walter Zeller, today known as the Kohlegger House. Maximilian granted Zeller—considered particularly capable and honorable—the High Jurisdiction, the right to impose the death penalty for capital crimes, a privilege normally reserved for the territorial prince. Granting this blood jurisdiction to a city judge remained unique in Innsbruck’s history. Out of pride and gratitude to the emperor, and to emphasize his loyal affiliation with the ruling house, Zeller also had the fire steels of the Order of the Golden Fleece and the coats of arms of the Habsburg hereditary lands incorporated into the Quaternion Eagle. With this powerful artistic manifestation of the Holy Roman Empire, Zeller sought to underscore the legal validity of his position. Not preserved was the decorative inscription added by Zeller’s son, Walter the Younger, as a pious addition on the outside of the building: “Nisi dominus custodiet civitatem, frustra vigilat, cui custodit eam.” (Note: Unless the Lord guards the city, the watchman keeps vigil in vain.) That the Gothic painting under the arcades is still visible today is thanks to chance. In the 17th century, the artwork, like many others, was carelessly painted over. It only reappeared during renovation work in the 1930s.

The striking building next to the Kolbenturm was once the home of one of Innsbruck’s most influential dynasties. The master builders of the Gumpp clan shaped the cityscape for generations with their baroque buildings. Innsbruck is full of the Gumpps’ legacy, but they would hardly recognise their own residence today. Although the core of the Gumpp House still dates back to the 17th century, its façade underwent a complete remake in 1911. Anton Kirchmayr designed the Munding in a wild mix of styles, combining Tyrolean Heimatstil, Art Nouveau, and Historicism. Unfortunately, these remarkable wall paintings did not survive. In 1936, the building was renovated in the style of Tyrolean Modernism, a movement that turned away from the typical Alpine charm with its extensive wooden panelling. Today, a large image of Saint Christopher, along with a poem in Tyrolean dialect, adorns the façade.

Since 1803, the Munding family has operated a confectionery in the Gumpp House. The café’s founder, Johann Nepomuk Munding, arrived during his journeyman travels from what is now the German side of Lake Constance—then part of the Habsburg Empire—via Graubünden to Tyrol. In Innsbruck, he began working in the city kitchen. With his savings, he opened what is now the oldest café in the city, despite the turbulent wartime conditions that gripped Europe. The Napoleonic campaigns also reached Innsbruck. Several sieges, plundering, and constantly shifting power dynamics marked the first ten years. Anyone who examines the house wall closely will discover a cannonball, a relic from the turbulent years of Bavarian occupation and the Tyrolean uprising of 1809. Alongside Café Katzung and Café Central, Munding was one of the meeting points for the growing bourgeoisie in Innsbruck during the Belle Époque. With its Ladies’ Café and Tea Salon, Munding also offered women a social forum — something quite unusual until the second half of the 20th century. While Katzung is now modern in style and Central exudes the charm and elegance of a Viennese coffee house, time seems to have stood still at Munding. Visitors can not only enjoy excellent cakes and coffee specialities but also admire the largely preserved furnishings and décor from that era. Windows, ceilings, and many pieces of furniture and lamps remain in the style of the 1930s.

The building of the New City School in Kiebachgasse may look inconspicuous from the outside, but anyone who manages to glimpse the inner courtyard will be rewarded with a Gothic gem from the 16th century. The elaborate wood carvings of the staircase and façade give a good impression of the craftsmanship of the Early Modern period. Looking upward is almost dizzying. The fountain that has survived the centuries is also interesting. Curious visitors can ask for access at the locksmith’s shop in the neighboring building. With a bit of luck, you can enter.

The house tells the story of one of the greatest social changes in Austrian history. In 1774, Maria Theresa’s “General School Ordinance for German Normal, Main, and Trivial Schools in All Imperial-Royal Hereditary Lands” came into force. The enlightened ruler was keen to ensure that children’s education was no longer left to the uncontrolled influence of communities and the Church, as had been the case for centuries. The previous system had led to what we would now call an education crisis: poorly trained workers unable to reach their full potential. From then on, all children—including girls—up to the age of 12 had to, or rather were allowed to, attend school, at least in theory. Nationwide, even after the law change, only one in three children went to school, with a significant urban-rural divide. In villages like Pradl, Amras, and Wilten, which were not yet part of Innsbruck, farmers preferred their children to work in the fields rather than attend school. The school fees required in the early years of the new system were another hurdle for many families. In the city, however, the hunger for education and financial means had been greater even before the law change. As early as 1768, Innsbruck’s teachers and pupils had moved from the old school at Domplatz to the new City School in today’s Kiebachgasse due to lack of space. The new school system was divided into Normal, Main, and Trivial Schools. Trivial schools were mainly found in villages and poorer districts of Innsbruck. Although the Trivial schools in neighborhoods like St. Nikolaus and Kohlstatt could not compare to the New City School in terms of teaching quality, attendance rates were at least higher than in rural areas.

In many ways, the then-modern school differed from today’s system, yet there are similarities. Children were often grouped in classes regardless of age. Religion, German, and arithmetic were part of the curriculum, as was the subject “Instructions for Righteousness and Economy.” The still-familiar subject of general studies conveyed knowledge in disciplines such as geography and natural sciences—of course strictly within the Catholic doctrine of the time. The greatest change from the previously Church-dominated teaching was the stronger focus on numbers. The new curriculum placed special emphasis on mathematical basics, for good reason: whether craftsman, civil servant, or artilleryman in the growing army, without math skills one was lost. Since 1500, mathematics had gained importance over classical humanistic subjects like rhetoric, philosophy, and languages. Economy and technology favored mathematicians over philosophers, even though university disciplines were not yet as strictly separated as they are today. Another reason for the reform and stronger state influence was the sense of statehood necessary for a modern territorial state. From an early age, children were to be raised Catholic but also loyal to the state. Not only pupils but also teachers were standardized. A handbook written at court was intended to unify teaching methods throughout Maria Theresa’s empire and guarantee a certain level of standardization. The then Innsbruck school director Philipp Jakob Tangl (1733–1780) was appointed as an advisor to Maria Theresa’s court in Vienna. Despite the enlightened nature of the curriculum, corporal punishment for disobedience and misconduct remained part of everyday life—and would continue for centuries.

Until 1868, Innsbruck’s children were taught in the New City School. A new Imperial Elementary School Act that year extended compulsory schooling to age 14 and converted Trivial schools into elementary and civic schools. The bourgeois revolution of the second half of the 19th century thus surpassed the Enlightenment under Maria Theresa. Not only was the compulsory school age raised, but new school types such as the scientific secondary school (Realgymnasium), the trade school, and the business academy emerged. The building in Kiebachgasse had become too small for the now larger number of pupils. A new tenant was quickly found in the Protestant Church, as the school also had a small chapel that could be used. When the Protestant community moved to Saggen in 1905, a locksmith rented the building in the heart of the Old Town. What would be unthinkable in today’s museum-tourism context was everyday life well into the 20th century: industrial and craft businesses located right among residential buildings.

In today’s Kiebachgasse, at the intersection with Seilergasse, was once Innsbruck’s nightlife hotspot of bygone days. Although there were small animal pens within the city walls, the name “Vier-Viecher-Eck” (Four-Beasts Corner) did not refer to animals. Early in Innsbruck’s history, taverns settled here. If you position yourself well today, you can spot the four beautiful historic signs at a glance. The inns Goldener Löwe (Golden Lion), Goldener Hirsch (Golden Stag), Roter Adler (Red Eagle), and Weißes Rössl (White Horse), which gave the place its name, were important resting spots for travelers and merchants near the goods loading area in front of the Ballhaus. Even less affluent residents spent their evenings in these taverns. Homes were not suitable for gatherings, as there was hardly any space to host guests. While dining out today is considered a privilege, in the Middle Ages it was mainly people of questionable reputation who enjoyed food and lodging in taverns. Those who could afford it had staff, a pantry, a kitchen, and candlelight at home; those without money went to one of the dives. There were no individual tables or menus—people ate whatever was served. Respectable citizens or even aristocrats could not and would not risk being seen with foreigners, vagabonds, and riffraff. Accordingly, the Vier-Viecher-Eck was considered a disreputable alley.

The bad reputation is long gone, and the houses of the Vier-Viecher-Eck have survived in one form or another. The Gasthaus zum Goldenen Löwen was renovated in the 19th century, trading its Gothic appearance for a façade in the historicist style of the time. The Weißes Rössl remains one of the city’s most popular traditional inns to this day. Not only tourists but also locals enjoy schnitzel, cheese spaetzle, and more here. The Goldener Hirsch, however, ceased operating as an inn after nearly 400 years. Besides the sign, an inscription on the façade of the Gothic building still recalls its time as a member of the Four-Beasts gang. The Roter Adler was remodeled in 1920 into its current form, which hardly matches the rest of the old town. The restaurant inside closed three years later after a change of ownership:

"As the N. Ztg. (note: Neue Zeitung) learns, the well-known inn "Roter Adler", Kiebachgasse, has been sold to the wholesale company Schifferegger, Ischia u. Co. by the previous owner Rindfleisch, who recently acquired the neighbouring hotel "Goldener Adler". The new owners are planning to close the pub."

The Ischia family still operates the Altstadthotel Das Innsbruck directly opposite. Unfortunately, the Roter Adler lost its street sign during the last renovations. As a substitute, the Goldener Adler, visible at the end of Kiebachgasse, now serves as the fourth “beast.”

Beyond the gastronomic Four Beasts, this corner of Innsbruck was lively in other ways. The street names still hint at the artisanal and commercial past, when guilds shaped Innsbruck’s social fabric. In Schlossergasse, alongside metalworking on the edge of the old town, the city’s brothel was located—strategically positioned on the then city outskirts to grant discreet access to visiting travelers, virtuous clergymen, honorable soldiers, eager students, and respectable citizens. A traveling merchant praised Innsbruck for the “…high quality of its inns, wine, and women.” Today’s Seilergasse was once known as Fleischergasse because it led to the meat market near the Inn Bridge. At its end stood the Frauen- or Pickentor, now remembered only by a small plaque. Before the relocation of the princely residence to the Neuhof under Friedrich IV, Kiebachgasse was Innsbruck’s main street. Merchants entering the city from the south reached the Ballhaus via Ballgasse, where goods were unloaded. Over time, Kiebachgasse was known by several names: Ballhausgasse, Rindergasse, or Schulgasse were common. The street’s current name honors Josef Kiebach (1829–1875), who inherited a small fortune and left it to the city’s poor fund upon his death. Firewood for the poorest and the construction of a public kitchen were among the uses of the Kiebach bequest, along with donations to the fire brigade and the St. Vincent Society. Shortly after his death, the small alley in the old town was named after Kiebach.

The narrow yellow building at today’s corner of Herzog-Friedrich-Straße and Kiebachgasse was known in the Middle Ages and the Early Modern period as the Ballhaus. Traveling merchants were required to store their bales of goods here during their stay in Innsbruck and load them onto a new wagon. Unlike the other narrow alleys of the old town, the square in front of the Ballhaus was laid out wide to give space for wagons to stop and turn around. These wagon convoys were usually not just a few small vehicles but consisted of up to 20–30 loaded wagons. For Innsbruck, the Ballhaus was an important place. An early, legally established form of forwarding and long-distance trade, known as the Rodfuhrwesen, regulated transit trade between Venice and Augsburg to the benefit of the city and the territorial prince. This system was a major source of income and an important economic factor. The Via Raetia was one of the few Alpine crossings that had already been fortified and made passable for wagons by the 14th century. Merchants who did not cross the Alps with pack animals passed through Innsbruck to a considerable extent. The individual stations along the transport route through Tyrol were spaced 20 to 40 km apart. The next stations from Innsbruck on the trade routes to the south and west were Matrei am Brenner and Telfs. Innsbruck’s Rodfuhr carriers serviced this area as far as Mittenwald. Merchants were not allowed to transport goods on their own wagons; they had to hire local carriers. This created a win-win-win situation between merchants, the city, and Innsbruck’s citizens. Merchants could rely on experienced, local carriers who only had to handle a short, familiar section of the route. The draft animals used were always rested, and merchants benefited from greater safety on the road. Paid and armed carriers guided the flow of goods past dangers and ensured that no one got lost on the hazardous Alpine routes. In the interest of the cities and territorial princes, carriers also ensured that merchants did not use hidden paths to evade tolls or the mandatory unloading of goods along the route. Monitoring this Niederlagsrecht—which generated significant financial income and many jobs—was the responsibility of the city government. It was not only the carriers who earned money from the Rodfuhrwesen: craftsmen, blacksmiths, saddlers, and innkeepers also profited from passing customers. The growing volume of trade soon attracted financial services to the city. Italian merchants established stations and developed early forms of banking through bills of exchange. Innsbruck had arrived in early capitalism—not only as a residential city but also thanks to its location between major German and Italian cities. When Venice lost importance in the eastern Mediterranean after the discovery of America in the 16th century, the Rodfuhrwesen also declined. Europe’s economic centers now lay on the Atlantic, not the Mediterranean. With the construction of the Brenner route between Innsbruck and Matrei via the less steep Schönberg in the 1580s under Ferdinand II, Innsbruck managed to maintain its role as a transit hub for a while longer. In the 18th century, even the internal trade of the Habsburg Empire shifted eastward and was handled between Trieste and Vienna via the Salzburg Alpine passes. Innsbruck increasingly found itself on the western edge of the empire. North–south trade shifted toward Switzerland, where tolls were lower. One could call the Innsbruck carriers the first losers of globalization. The system persisted in a reduced form until 1867 and collapsed completely only with the opening of the railway line over the Brenner.

When Venice lost importance in the eastern Mediterranean after the discovery of America in the 16th century, the Rodfuhrwesen also declined. Europe’s economic centers now lay on the Atlantic, not the Mediterranean. With the construction of the Brenner route between Innsbruck and Matrei via the less steep Schönberg in the 1580s under Ferdinand II, Innsbruck managed to maintain its role as a transit hub for a while longer. In the 18th century, even the internal trade of the Habsburg Empire shifted eastward and was handled between Trieste and Vienna via the Salzburg Alpine passes. Innsbruck increasingly found itself on the western edge of the empire. North–south trade shifted toward Switzerland, where tolls were lower. One could call the Innsbruck carriers the first losers of globalization. The system persisted in a reduced form until 1867 and collapsed completely only with the opening of the railway line over the Brenner.

For centuries, Innsbruck’s inns were not only social meeting points but also vital infrastructure for the city as a trading and residential hub. One of these inns was the Goldener Adler in Innsbruck, today an institution. Thanks to its proximity to the Ballhaus, it was the ideal lodging for passing merchants. The Goldener Adler was first mentioned in a document in 1573. However, since Emperor Maximilian’s entourage is said to have stayed there, it can be assumed that the inn welcomed guests much earlier. A sign at the Goldener Adler gives 1390 as its founding date. Today a respected tavern, the Goldener Adler—like all other inns—was for a long time a place where travelers, merchants, and other itinerant folk stayed. Accommodated in simple quarters and served cheap meals, they turned inns into hubs of information exchange. Travel was dangerous, and knowledge about foreign lands, political conditions, trustworthy business partners, roads, tolls, and the economic situation in various regions was worth its weight in gold in an era without internet, telephone, television, or newspapers. Strangers from all over the world maintained their own ways of interacting with each other and with society. An inn probably resembled a truck stop more than the hotels we know today. Many citizens engaged in respectable Christian professions viewed the guests with suspicion, and inns were considered places of dubious reputation. This only began to change gradually with Innsbruck’s rise in the 15th century. As the clientele changed, so did the reputation of the inns. Anyone who came to Innsbruck and cared about status stayed at the Goldener Adler. Celebrities of all kinds lodged here, as the plaque at the entrance attests. It was not uncommon for minor aristocrats and guests of the court to sleep in one of the inns when the official chambers were fully booked. Innsbruck’s innkeepers profited not only from transit but also from the city’s status as a residence and the entourage of noble visitors—though bills from the Hofburg were usually paid late and only after reminders. The Pofl—people without citizenship or sufficient property—were not allowed to enter the taverns.

The inn gained almost state-level significance during the Tyrolean uprising. From the balcony of the Goldener Adler, Andreas Hofer is said to have addressed the Innsbruck population after taking the city in 1809. A plaque under the arcades at the restaurant entrance commemorates this moment and displays the modestly ambitious text. To this day, the tradition and history of the establishment are celebrated through the naming of its rooms. Guests can dine in the Goethe Stüberl and then retire to the Archduke Eugen Room. Each room is dedicated to a prominent guest of the past, with their biography and connection to the inn lovingly recounted. The exterior of the building also reflects its significance and tradition. From the Inn Bridge, one can see the magnificent Gothic building dominating the entrance to the Old Town. Older pictures and postcards show the Goldener Adler without ornamentation; the frescoes were only rediscovered during renovations after World War II. The coat of arms with the double-headed eagle is also worth seeing. Today, the Goldener Adler is one of the most beautiful restaurants in the city, equally popular with locals and tourists. Not exactly cheap, the inn offers hearty cuisine in the pleasant atmosphere of its cozy parlors or outdoors with a view of the Ottoburg.

Opposite the Gasthof Goldener Adler stands the Old Government Building, which has served as a court and administrative building as well as the Landhaus for the Tyrolean sovereigns since 1569. During its time, the influence of the clergy and nobility within the feudal system increased under the heavy financial burden left in Tyrol by Maximilian I. His great-grandson, Archduke Ferdinand II, as a Renaissance prince, was far removed from democracy in the modern sense. However, after the uprising of 1525 under Michael Gaismair and the turmoil following Maximilian I’s era, he was keen to seek advice from the Tyrolean estates on matters of governance. The new provincial government required an official seat near the sovereign’s court. For this purpose, Ferdinand purchased the residential building known as the Zerrenmantelhaus and converted it into the home of the Landtag.

With Leopold V and his wife Claudia de Medici, the Landhaus not only gained a new sovereign but also a completely new exterior. Water damage necessitated a full renovation. Wastewater from the court laundry had caused significant damage to the government building in 1641. Claudia had the building remodelled in 1645, and the council chambers were lavishly decorated in the style of her Florentine homeland. Only a few years later, further work was required. After the earthquake that shook Innsbruck in 1689, the building—now known as the Claudiana—was renovated in Baroque style by Johann Martin Gumpp the Elder. Gumpp gave it the Baroque façade that stands out among the other buildings on the Lower Town Square. However, the Gothic interior design of the rooms remained intact. In 1732, the façade facing the inner courtyard was renewed in a simple and modest manner. There was no longer any need for excessive splendour or ostentation. By then, the Tyrolean Landtag had moved outside the city gates to the New Landhaus in the suburbs. The Gothic core of the Claudiana can still be glimpsed in the courtyard. The Türingsaal still shines with its impressive vaulted ceiling. The most magnificent of the halls—the Claudiana Hall, with its Baroque stove and beautiful wooden ceiling that still bears the coat of arms of the Florentine Medici family—is unfortunately only accessible during concerts and events organised by the University of Innsbruck.

Anyone walking from the Inn Bridge into the Old Town toward the Lower Town Square passes the Ottoburg restaurant and the Anno Neun monument on the left. Today a popular spot, it was not always a top address. According to the first, promotional theory, it was Otto of Andechs who gave the property its name, as Beda Weber wrote in his Handbook for Travelers in Tyrol (1852): “Otto I, Count of Andechs, surrounded the open settlement with walls and towers and built the Ottoburg there in 1234.” No less likely is the second theory about the name’s origin. Until 1840, directly opposite on today’s Herzog-Otto-Ufer stood one of Innsbruck’s three meat markets, before the wooden building burned down. The butcher’s stall was built on stilts over the river. It is still clearly visible in old city views. For the butchers, the location was practical, as waste could be disposed of directly into the Inn. For a long time, it was also customary to dump household waste and sewage into the river, which gave rise to unpleasant rumors. The location by the city wall, with its gate and waste disposal point, deterred potential tenants and buyers. The people of Innsbruck therefore nicknamed the building “öd Burg” (desolate castle), after the now rarely used word for “empty.” Over time, “öd Burg” became Ottoburg. It thus recalls not a prince but an early vacancy in Innsbruck’s real estate market. After the opening of the market hall and the meat yard in Saggen, the value of the Ottoburg rose. In 1911, Sebastian Kandler, one of Innsbruck’s tourism pioneers, bought the Ottoburg, renovated it, and gave it its present appearance to open a tavern. The former Kaiserjäger gave the house its enduring patriotic character—not only through the red-white-red shutters. During World War I, Kandler made the square in front of his wine tavern available for war propaganda. The monument “Father and Son” by Tyrolean artist Christian Plattner still stands there today. It commemorates the Tyrolean uprising against the Bavarian-French occupation in 1809. In 1905, the city council had the monument erected to stir sentiment against Italy and France after Italy entered the war. The Innsbrucker Nachrichten reported:

“The Anno Nine group by Christian Plattner, which the city has purchased, is finally nearing installation. Currently, the roughly three-meter-high stone block intended as a pedestal is being set up in the niche behind the Ottoburg, having been brought down from the Hötting quarry in recent days. The concrete base for this pedestal has long been ready. Since the bronze monument group has already arrived in Innsbruck, the completion of the monument should not be long in coming.”

With the introduction of general conscription under Maria Theresa in Austria, the military infrastructure adapted to a standing army. Innsbruck became a garrison town in 1745. Thirty years later, the city walls were dismantled, and the Castrum Inpruka was converted into a state barracks. The new form of warfare with artillery instead of siege towers rendered the old fortifications, designed for medieval sieges, useless. The civic duty of defense was now taken over by professional soldiers. From 1778, parts of the Tyrolean Land and Field Regiment were stationed in Innsbruck, which became the Tyrolean Kaiserjäger after the Napoleonic Wars in 1816. At the same time, the Tyrolean riflemen (Schützen) continued to exist, trained at shooting ranges throughout the country as a kind of standing militia since the late Middle Ages. In February and March 1848, many cities in northern Italy saw uprisings against the Habsburgs, which went down in history as the First Italian War of Independence. The fighting in northern Italy demanded modernization of the Tyrolean military. Border security could no longer rely on volunteer armies and privately raised companies like Adolf Pichler’s Academic Legion. In 1851, reconstruction began to create the modern Inn Barracks. Changes in the military system also altered the cityscape. Although the military presence did not restore the splendor of the times when the city was an imperial residence, it boosted the population and importance of Innsbruck. With soldiers arriving from all over the multiethnic Austro-Hungarian monarchy, an international flair entered Innsbruck. These mostly young men enlivened the city with their presence and their pay, even though barracks life offered little freedom. Unlike the students of the University of Innsbruck, the soldiers did not come from the upper class but sought social advancement through military service. The barracks remained until 1978, when the Tyrolean government took over the building as an administrative office. Wall remnants in the inner courtyard still recall the medieval castle. In the local pubs, you can still enjoy the atmosphere of the old Andechs Castle.

With the introduction of general conscription under Maria Theresa in Austria, the military infrastructure adapted to a standing army. Innsbruck became a garrison town in 1745. Thirty years later, the city walls were dismantled, and the Castrum Inpruka was converted into a state barracks. The new form of warfare with artillery instead of siege towers rendered the old fortifications, designed for medieval sieges, useless. The civic duty of defense was now taken over by professional soldiers. From 1778, parts of the Tyrolean Land and Field Regiment were stationed in Innsbruck, which became the Tyrolean Kaiserjäger after the Napoleonic Wars in 1816. At the same time, the Tyrolean riflemen (Schützen) continued to exist, trained at shooting ranges throughout the country as a kind of standing militia since the late Middle Ages. In February and March 1848, many cities in northern Italy saw uprisings against the Habsburgs, which went down in history as the First Italian War of Independence. The fighting in northern Italy demanded modernization of the Tyrolean military. Border security could no longer rely on volunteer armies and privately raised companies like Adolf Pichler’s Academic Legion. In 1851, reconstruction began to create the modern Inn Barracks. Changes in the military system also altered the cityscape. Although the military presence did not restore the splendor of the times when the city was an imperial residence, it boosted the population and importance of Innsbruck. With soldiers arriving from all over the multiethnic Austro-Hungarian monarchy, an international flair entered Innsbruck. These mostly young men enlivened the city with their presence and their pay, even though barracks life offered little freedom. Unlike the students of the University of Innsbruck, the soldiers did not come from the upper class but sought social advancement through military service. The barracks remained until 1978, when the Tyrolean government took over the building as an administrative office. Wall remnants in the inner courtyard still recall the medieval castle. In the local pubs, you can still enjoy the atmosphere of the old Andechs Castle.

The history of the church from which today’s cathedral in the Old Town emerged is older than that of the city itself. When Count Berchtold V acquired the land south of the Inn from the Wilten Abbey in 1180—land on which Innsbruck would later be built—the exchange contract already mentioned a market church. At that time, Innsbruck was not yet an independent parish but merely a branch of Wilten Abbey. There was no talk of a bishop’s seat then. Nevertheless, the church was the center of the developing town, which at that time had neither the Golden Roof nor the Imperial Palace. A cemetery surrounded the church; the last graves were only removed in 1905 with the construction of the sewer system. It was only with the construction of the city tower, the town hall, the Neuhof, and other buildings on the Upper and Lower Town Squares in the late Middle Ages that things changed. In Albrecht Dürer’s famous watercolor, painted during his journey through Innsbruck in 1495, the parish church of St. James appears merely as one of many towers in the cityscape.

The fate of St. James was far from fortunate. The church burned down several times. The earthquake of 1689, which damaged almost all Innsbruck houses, did not spare the cathedral either. In 1724, after a complete redesign in the contemporary Baroque style, the church was consecrated. It was not fitting for a city like Innsbruck to have a half-finished ruin as its showpiece within the city walls. To finance the construction, a special tax on tobacco was introduced, and additional duties were levied. The former Lion House of Ferdinand II on the Inn, which had burned down in 1636, was rebuilt as a brewery and tavern to bring extra coins into the budget through Innsbruck’s thirst for beer. After the unexpected death of Johann Jakob Herkomer, originally intended as the construction manager, Johann Georg Fischer took over the project. A beautiful legend surrounds the large ceiling fresco by Cosmas Damian Asam (1686–1739). When the painter fell from the scaffolding during work, Saint John is said to have stretched out his hand to save the maestro from certain death. After World War I, the newly drawn border at the Brenner made it difficult to administer North and South Tyrol under one diocese. North Tyrol and Vorarlberg needed their own administration. Finally, in 1964, the former small branch of Wilten Abbey became the Cathedral of Innsbruck.

In 1944, like so many other churches, the cathedral was damaged in an air raid. The interior and exterior were quickly renovated in the first post-war years to restore the proper representation of the clerical administrative center of western Austria as soon as possible. The sturdy church towers rise high into the sky, adorned with imposing gargoyles. A rider sits atop the gable above the entrance. The front façade is decorated with statues of various saints, including Saint Notburga, one of Innsbruck’s patron saints, and Saint Romedius, who is said to have ridden from Tyrol to Rome on a bear. Veneration of saints reached its peak in the 17th and 18th centuries. Baroque culture understood the importance of inspiring people for the Roman Church with good stories, the integration of popular legends, and impressive sound. The many bells of St. James remain a spectacle even today. The Marian bell, cast at the traditional Grassmayr foundry in Innsbruck, weighs over seven tons. On special occasions, the cathedral’s bells ring under the expert execution of a dedicated bell ringer. The interior of the cathedral is crowned by a dome above the famous devotional image Mariahilf by Lucas Cranach the Elder (1472–1553). This masterpiece of the Innsbruck Cathedral came as a souvenir under the art-loving provincial prince Leopold V. Since 1650, it has hung on the high altar of the cathedral, with only a brief interruption during wartime. During World War II, the image of the Virgin was taken to the nearby Ötztal to protect it from bombings. Anyone walking attentively through the city will find the Virgin in many house façades or fountains. Even outside Innsbruck, the image is widespread in North and South Tyrol. Alongside the devotional image, a second monument survived the transformation from the old to the new church and was relocated: the tomb of Maximilian III of Austria occupies a significant part of the nave. The kneeling provincial prince of Tyrol is flanked by Saint George, the patron of the Teutonic Order. Archduke Eugen, who served as the supreme military commander of Tyrol in the Austro-Hungarian army during World War I and was also a member of the Teutonic Order, is buried here as well.

Today, the cathedral square is a popular meeting place in the Old Town, just a few steps from the Golden Roof yet slightly away from the tourist crowds. Thanks to several cafés and student apartments in the picturesque houses around the fountain, young people have rediscovered the square in front of the church and brought it back to life.

Ferdinand I governed Tyrol from afar and was rarely present, but his officials made decisions that were significant for the entire European court. Tyrol was not only part of the Habsburg Empire, ruled by Ferdinand’s brother Charles V, but also an important hub for the business world of the Fugger financial magnates. Through their wealth and ties to the ruling family, they largely influenced Europe’s destiny. The Teutonic Order was not just a knightly order and a relic of the Crusades. At first glance, it may seem somewhat outdated in the Early Modern period, as warfare had long moved away from knightly armies and warrior orders. However, through skillful politics and connections to European high aristocracy, the Order ensured its survival even in an era when swords had long been replaced by gunpowder.

By 1539, the Order sold the building again, and ownership changed hands frequently thereafter. In the 18th century, the building was expanded to five stories and today serves as an ordinary residential house. In 1872, part of the house fell victim to flames during one of the frequent city fires. The facade of the once magnificent building was altered beyond recognition by these unfortunate circumstances, though the structural framework fortunately remained intact. It also suffered damage during air raids in World War II. Ironically, we owe it to the bomb damage that the building now shines again in its old Gothic splendor. During renovations in 1954, the original wall paintings were rediscovered and restored in 2001. Particularly beautiful are the elaborately decorated bay windows featuring depictions of Saint Christopher and Saint George. The lower section of the bay window displays the coat of arms. The Teutonic Order was as devout as it was militant, and Saint George, as the patron saint of the fighting class of the Middle Ages, suited these simultaneously pious and combative brothers perfectly.

At the corner of Hofgasse and Stiftgasse stands a dark Gothic building whose contrast to the bright white Hofburg opposite could not be greater. The Gothic exterior of the four-story house dates back to 1530 and is attributed to the craftsmanship of the Türing builders. A massive round-arched portal forms the entrance on Stiftgasse. The stately entrance door with the “whispering arch” on Hofgasse is a true Innsbruck curiosity: if someone whispers on one side of the arch, the person on the other side can hear even the faintest word by placing their ear against the arch. The imaginative figures on the wooden entrance door were created by Tyrolean sculptor Rudolf Millonig for the former inn “Zum Burgriesen,” inspired by the Gothic heritage. Those lucky enough to enter can admire the 17th-century staircase and the cross vaults inside.

The paintings on the façade along Hofgasse give the house its name: Kleines Riesenhaus or Burgriesenhaus (“Little Giant’s House” or “Castle Giant’s House”). They commemorate two extraordinary Innsbruck figures: the court dwarf Thomele and the castle giant Haidl. A poem beneath an image of the Virgin Mary praises these prominent residents:

“Under God’s blessing and Holy Mary’s hand, this house is dedicated to the little giants.”

Thomele served at the court of Ferdinand II, entertaining the prince and his entourage. Court dwarfs and giants had become a tradition since the Middle Ages, originating from the Duchy of Burgundy, which became part of the Habsburg Empire under Maximilian. Burgundy, with its wealthy trading cities Ghent and Bruges, was not only financially but also culturally Europe’s avant-garde alongside the Italian metropolises. European princes of the 15th century emulated the culture of the Burgundian court. Maximilian’s first wife, Mary of Burgundy, brought much of this flair to the Habsburg court and its ceremonial life. It is no wonder that the cosmopolitan Ferdinand did not want to do without court dwarfs. Court dwarfs and jesters were even allowed to criticize rulers at the time. Still, Thomele was hardly enviable—though dwarfs were highly sought-after entertainers, kicks, blows, and slaps were common if performances displeased the rulers. At the other end of the size scale stood the princely bodyguard. Castle giant Nikolaus Haidl was not just a curiosity but also part of the guard, serving as a kind of bodyguard for Archduke Sigismund “the Rich in Coin.” He was definitely no mythical figure—his gigantic skeletal remains were discovered in 1866 during construction work in the crypt of Innsbruck Cathedral. On the first floor of the city tower is a stone figure that was removed from the façade niche of the Burgriesenhaus.

A plaque on the northern façade commemorates a famous visitor: Prince Eugene (1663–1736), one of the greatest military commanders in Habsburg history, stayed here during his travels. Like many figures in Innsbruck’s history, he was a kind of European mélange. François-Eugène de Savoie-Carignan was originally a French subject of King Louis XIV and a member of the French high nobility. Legend has it that his slight build caused his rejection from the French army, though it is more likely that his family had fallen into royal disgrace, prompting Eugene to enter military service with the Habsburgs—the long-standing rivals of the French monarchy. Between 1683 and 1718, he fought in all major European conflicts. He is best remembered for saving Vienna from Ottoman conquest. Born a Frenchman, he became a member of the Emperor’s Privy Council and President of the Court War Council. Between 1716 and 1724, he served as governor of the Austrian Netherlands. With his private fortune, he became one of the most important private builders between Budapest and Vienna. As an educated collector with an interest in science and art, Prince Eugene corresponded with leading intellectuals of his time, such as Leibniz, Montesquieu, and Voltaire. Paintings portrayed him as a baroque star; songs celebrated him as the savior of Christian Europe from the Turkish threat. At the height of his power, after the emperors he served, he was probably the most influential man in Europe. His body rests in St. Stephen’s Cathedral in Vienna, while his heart lies separately in the Basilica di Superga in Turin, the burial church of the House of Savoy, his family. His indirect descendants from this French noble lineage would later fight against Austria in the Italian Wars of Independence between 1848 and 1866 to achieve Italian unity. Like Andreas Hofer in Tyrol, Prince Eugene is often exploited for nationalist and populist purposes—something he likely would not have approved of. Rather, he and court dwarf Thomele should remind us of the diverse foreign influences that give the city its unique charm. In Innsbruck, both the Burgriesenhaus and Prinz-Eugen-Straße in Saggen commemorate Austria’s most successful military leader.

The red building flanking the City Tower is the Old Town Hall. Until the 14th century, the city’s affairs were managed in the house of the town judge or mayor. Besides a lack of transparency, these were not ideal working conditions for governing an ever-growing municipality with its own city council. Duke Ludwig of Brandenburg imposed a special tax to finance the construction of a dedicated town hall. In 1358, the building on the Upper Town Square was completed. It was the first official town hall of a Tyrolean municipality. The mayor and the community now had an appropriate home as official bodies. The modest building was erected before Innsbruck’s golden age and was not intended to display bourgeois splendour but to serve as an administrative building. The market inspectors were also based in the town hall. They oversaw the goods offered, their quantity and quality. Bread, for example, was weighed by the “bread guardian” at the bread counter in the town hall to prevent extortion and fraud. Through several renovations, extensions and repairs—the earthquake of 1689 did not spare the town hall—the building took on its present form. A relief on the façade commemorates the confirmation of city rights in 1239. The plaque was added in 1939 for the 700th anniversary of this event, based on a design by Hans Andre. Despite the anti-clerical stance of the National Socialists, the church painter Andre managed to incorporate an angel as the herald of city rights. The costumes of the figures depicted do not reflect the actual fashion of Innsbruck’s bourgeoisie in the 13th century but rather what was considered the German ideal of the German city of Innsbruck at the dawn of National Socialism.

The symbolic sign of civic pride in city rights came later. The City Tower was built between 1442 and 1450 during the reign of Frederick IV. Innsbruck had meanwhile become a residence city. The increasingly wealthy citizens of Innsbruck wanted to demonstrate their newfound confidence. In 1560, the sturdy tower was crowned with an onion dome, the so-called Augsburg cap. This style was highly fashionable at the time, as Augsburg—home and business city of the merchant family Jakob Fugger—was one of Europe’s most important cities. Below the dome, skilfully crafted copper gargoyles in the shape of dolphins cluster. However, the City Tower was not merely an expression of Innsbruck’s vanity. The first floor housed a prison, and from the platform above, the tower watchman had to keep an eye out for dangers, monitor the city and, above all, sound the alarm in case of fire. Another duty of the watchman was announcing the time. Unlike today, not every citizen had a wristwatch. Besides church bells, people relied on the goodwill and precision of the man in the tower. A peculiarity of time in the Middle Ages was that it differed from village to village. Innsbruck likely had a different time than Hall or Schwaz. Only with industrialisation and the railway did synchronised time become important. Work schedules and timetables made a reinvention of time necessary.

Die Erweiterung des Alten Rathauses innerhalb der Altstadt schlug trotz mehrerer Entwurfsversuche im Laufe der zweiten Hälfte des 19. Jahrhunderts mangels Platzes fehl. Heute ist der Stadtturm beliebt, um die Altstadt von oben zu betrachten. In 55 m Höhe kann man sich wie ein mittelalterlicher Turmwächter fühlen und die ganze Altstadt überblicken. Besonders der Blick auf Helblinghaus und Goldenes Dachl mit der Nordkette im Hintergrund bildet die Kulisse für das ganz besondere Foto. Ob es gut bei den anderen Besuchern ankommt, wenn man lauthals die Uhrzeit von seinem Handy abliest, ist eine andere Frage.

The Helblinghaus is often described as the most beautiful building in Innsbruck. Purists, however, would call the only Baroque building among the Gothic houses misplaced and even kitschy. While tastes differ, one can objectively state that the richly stuccoed townhouse is a real eye-catcher. In 1730, Anton Gigl planned the conversion of a Gothic residential house into a building in the typical early 18th-century style for owner Johann Fischer. The Rococo façade features natural motifs, putti, masks, and other decorative elements. On the gable, in keeping with the spirit of the time, is a copy of Lucas Cranach’s devotional image Mariahilf. Less conspicuous but equally interesting is the very early depiction of a bare-breasted female figure. The 18th century in Tyrol was not an era when women’s bodies were commonly shown in their natural form in public. In other respects, too, the Helblinghaus was ahead of its time. The building got its name from its owner Sebastian Helbling, who, in the early 19th century, was one of the first in Innsbruck to serve the new trendy drink—coffee. At the beginning of the 20th century, the house hosted a Catholic Casino. This was not a gambling establishment but rather the meeting place of Innsbruck’s Casino Movement, a conservative political faction founded during the revolutionary year of 1848. Over the decades, the movement split into several branches, including one in the Habsburg Empire, which had not been part of the German Confederation since 1867. The Innsbruck branch consisted of academics and clerics close to the Church. The association opposed the liberal German People’s Party, which dominated the city council until World War I, and the Social Democrats. While they agreed that the German population was superior to other nationalities in the multinational Danube Monarchy, they found little else in common. Unlike the liberals, who envisioned modern, secular nation-states, the Casino Movement wanted to maintain the status quo in political and social life. Many of its members were Jesuits or had been educated under the order’s guidance. Keeping schools and education under the Church’s control was naturally a major concern for them. In the late days of the monarchy, the movement opposed universal suffrage, which the Social Democrats sought to introduce. Gender equality was equally anathema to them. Whether the depiction of the bare-breasted lady hastened the conservatives’ move to another base is not recorded. Today, the Helblinghaus houses shops and offices.

Before the Golden Roof began its long and arduous journey to becoming the city’s landmark, it had to fulfill many different roles and functions. As Innsbruck grew in importance for the region of Tyrol, Frederick IV had the “Neuhof” built around 1420. The Andechs Castle no longer matched Frederick’s expectations of a proper residence. Eighty years later, even the Neuhof was no longer representative enough to meet the standards of the new ruler. Emperor Maximilian’s court was significantly larger than that of the previous princes. He moved into the more spacious Hofburg, where the magnificent armoury tower—part of the defensive structure—became the second prestige project of his era to shape the cityscape. From then on, the centrally located Neuhof was intended to serve merely as an imperial ornament and to mark the beginning of a Golden Age at the turn of the century. In 1500, Maximilian commissioned the court architect Türing to build the ornate bay window we know today, decorated with 2,657 gilded shingles. It provided a place from which he could observe the events on the square below while presenting himself to the public. Where tourists from around the world now take photos, Maximilian once watched re-enacted medieval knightly tournaments, court hearings, and executions. These competitions, styled after the Middle Ages, were meant to entertain the court and its visitors. Maximilian’s second wife, Bianca Maria Sforza—who spent many years at court in Innsbruck—actively promoted these spectacles to combat the boredom of the small town. The elaborate oriel in the city center also served as a symbol of power. Ordinary people were never meant to forget who ruled them. The rules of the game back then were not so different from today: during the economic boom after World War I, the financial elite built a skyline in New York to display their power; a hundred years later, Dubai erected the Burj Khalifa as a symbol of its oil wealth. The Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire, meanwhile, gilded the roof of his viewing balcony and adorned it with the insignia of his rule. The reliefs beneath the oriel depict the territories ruled by Maximilian. From left to right, they show the coats of arms of Austria, Hungary, the Holy Roman Empire, Germany, Burgundy, Milan, Styria, and Tyrol. Knights and animal figures guard the Habsburg possessions. It is quite possible that the frieze, originally finished in 1500, was replaced a few years later after Maximilian was crowned emperor in 1508. Paintings on the front show the emperor with his two wives, Mary of Burgundy and Bianca Maria Sforza, depicted as minstrels. Their appearance is telling: Maximilian always portrayed his marriage to Mary of Burgundy as a love match, while he supposedly married Bianca Maria Sforza for political reasons. Accordingly, Mary of Burgundy is shown modestly with her hair covered, while the curls of Bianca Maria Sforza flow freely down her back. Mary of Burgundy died young and beautiful in a riding accident. Through her, the Habsburgs gained two future emperors, Charles and Ferdinand. The idealized representation of both wives symbolizes their significance for Maximilian. Scenes from medieval courtly life—very much in line with Maximilian’s tastes—decorate the façade. One figure depicts Emperor Frederick III, Maximilian’s stern-looking father, mockingly shown wearing a cap with donkey ears. The three-dimensional Morisco dancers, carved from sandstone, twist their limbs over monkeys, goats, and dogs. Some symbols, such as the two lions seemingly fighting over a scepter, continue to puzzle researchers today. The secret script inscribed on the band behind the dancers and figures on the upper relief panels was deciphered only in 2020. The encoded Latin phrase likely reads:

“Ego sum lux mundi qui sequitur me non ambulabit in tenebris sed habebit lucem vitae dicit dominus” Translated: *“…I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness but will have the light of life, says the Lord.”

“ Für einen großen Teil der Malereien war Hofmaler Jörg Kölderer verantwortlich, der viele Gebäude und Räume, die rund um 1500 entstanden, mit seiner Kunst schmückte. Auch das Jagdbuch, das Fischereibuch und das Zeugbuch, die das Treiben rund um die Waffenproduktion im Zeughaus zeigt, stammen aus seiner Feder. An der Decke unter dem Erker befinden sich putzige Figuren, einige davon in für das 16. Jahrhundert wohl anzüglicher Pose. Unter dem Erker auch eine Gedenktafel für den verurteilten und hingerichteten Jakob Hutter zu sehen.

After Innsbruck’s time as a Habsburg residence came to an end, the Golden Roof entered a period of decline. The rational spirit of Emperor Joseph II’s era had little mercy for the former imperial showroom of vanity. The building first became the seat of the financial administration and, from 1780 onward, served as a barracks—thus transforming the symbol of power back into a utilitarian space. The hardships that followed the Napoleonic Wars did not spare the Old Town or its historical buildings. Appreciation for Gothic houses—now protected monuments—was not yet widespread in the 19th century. That more was not lost is thanks largely to the lack of financial means at the time. In 1822, the façade received its current appearance during its conversion into a private rental property. In 1853, in the first year after its founding, the students of the new Federal Secondary School were taught in the Golden Roof. The National Socialists later used the landmark to lend civilian marriages greater prestige over traditional Catholic weddings. To this day, the Innsbruck registry office is located inside, where couples exchange their vows. Since 1996, a small museum dedicated to Innsbruck’s city history and Emperor Maximilian has been open inside the Golden Roof.