Herzog-Friedrich-Straße is home to some of Innsbruck’s most beautiful Gothic buildings. In the 15th century, stone houses gradually replaced the old wooden structures. When Innsbruck was elevated to the status of a princely residence city, the clientele changed and prosperity increased. Real estate was meant to reflect this new status. It’s worth taking a closer look at the façades, bay windows, reliefs, and frescoes. Three particularly fine examples can be found in the early modern row of houses opposite the city tower.

The Katzunghaus was first mentioned in records in 1455. Notable are the reliefs on the bay window created by the Türing family in 1530, depicting a late medieval tournament. Today, it houses the city’s oldest continuously operating coffeehouse. Court confectioner Anton Georg Katzung opened this Innsbruck institution in 1793. Interestingly, unlike earlier inns that bore animal names such as Eagle, Bear, or Stag, Katzung confidently chose his own name for the establishment. Later owners of Innsbruck cafés and patisseries, such as Munding and Café Grabhofer, followed his example. What was new about cafés was that they were public places aimed primarily at the local urban bourgeoisie. Unlike inns, which mainly accommodated travelers, cafés allowed the bourgeoisie and minor nobility to meet without seeming disreputable. Going out and being seen in a public establishment became respectable. Katzung was the first to offer a billiard table to the general public—a pastime previously reserved for aristocrats in their salons and upper-class university students. More recent is the iconic 1950s-style lettering on the façade.

Also worth seeing is the Trautsonhaus. The building was named after hereditary marshal Hans Freiherr von Trautson, who acquired it in 1541. This building, too, is a masterpiece by Gregor Türing. The Gothic sandstone bay windows are richly decorated with strictly symmetrical, intricate ornaments, giving a good impression of the typical architecture of the time. The vaulted arcades beneath the arcades date from the transitional period between Renaissance and Gothic. The baroque fountain on a small platform was installed in 1806 under Bavarian administration and is the last fountain in the old town to survive in its original form. Where tourists now refresh themselves and Christmas market visitors clean their hands of pastry grease or mulled wine, fruit, vegetables, and laundry were once washed. The building underwent major renovations in 1889 and again after World War II air raids. During these works, the ornate paintings that still adorn the façade were uncovered. A brief visit to the Gothic courtyard is worthwhile. It shows the classic structure of Innsbruck’s stone residential houses of the time, with shaft and staircase.

Particularly Gothic—though not original from the 16th century—is the Weinhaus Happ. From the 15th century onward, the wine trade flourished here. In 1427, Tyrolean sovereign Friedrich IV granted Innsbruck innkeepers permission to serve wine. Innsbruck has always been an important hub for wine trade heading north. The city lies on the imaginary border between beer and wine regions: in cooler northern Europe, beer was the drink of choice, while Mediterranean countries favored wine. Innsbruck’s role as a trading city and its residents’ drinking habits were—and still are—influenced by both sides of this wine-beer divide. The building was first officially listed as an inn in 1783 under beer host Martin Juffing. After numerous changes of ownership, Franz Happ took over the establishment in 1874. Like many old town buildings, Weinhaus Happ was in a deplorable state by the late 19th century after years of neglect. Following a complete collapse of the façade, it had to be renovated for the first time. After the difficult war years, Maria Schwarz took over in 1921, and gradually the Happ became an Innsbruck institution. Like many other venues, the tavern next to the Golden Roof also hosted theater performances. Its current striking appearance dates back to six years later, when the then-unknown Franz Baumann (1892–1974) redesigned the building inside and out. The challenge was to renovate and modernize the building without disturbing the cityscape. Recently, the Tyrolean Heritage Protection Association and the district administration had gained the final say on construction projects in sensitive locations. Urban planning was not to be done on the drawing board but with respect for historic town centers. Baumann designed the façade in the cubic style of New Objectivity. He planned the intricately carved entrance door, the prominent house sign, the staircase, the dining rooms, and the furnishings as a harmonious whole. Instead of a fully paneled parlor, Baumann used wood sparingly. By employing new materials, he succeeded in bringing Tyrolean style and the coziness of the traditional tavern into the modern era. The central bay window was a popular design element of the time, also used by his brother-in-law Theodor Prachensky in the building above the passage to the savings bank in Maria-Theresien-Straße. The room inside was lovingly renamed Baumannstube after Baumann rose to prominence as one of the leading architects of his time. The façade paintings of Weinhaus Happ also date from the interwar period. In 1937, Erich Torggler created South Tyrolean rural motifs, including an image of Saint Urban, the patron saint of winemakers. The different climatic conditions north and south of the main Alpine ridge led to different cultivation methods. While wine in the south was mainly an export product, North Tyrol had to import wine as well as wheat. Farmers’ interests in the individual regions differed greatly when it came to tariffs. The sovereign had to continually fine-tune the tax system to satisfy all interests and necessities as best as possible. Weinhaus Happ can be seen as a symbol of the differences in agriculture between Tyrol north and south of the Brenner Pass, while at the same time representing the unity of the land—a feeling still shared by many people today.

Legend has it that when the Turks laid siege to Vienna in 1683, they brought two things to Austria that have left a lasting mark on breakfast culture to this day: the crescent-shaped Kipferl and coffee. How the exotic beverage actually made its way from distant growing regions into the German-speaking world can no longer be conclusively reconstructed; it was almost certainly not through sacks of coffee beans allegedly abandoned on the battlefield outside Vienna. This urban legend can more plausibly be traced back to the late seventeenth century, when the coffee bean began to establish itself in Europe as a luxury commodity consumed by political and economic elites. This was the era of the great trading companies, the first stock exchanges, and the philosophers, legal scholars, and economists of the early Enlightenment—a period in which lucrative overseas trade brought coffee and the economic sectors that developed around it into Europe’s cities. As part of the Habsburg Empire and an important trading town, Innsbruck was involved in this imperial business from an early date. Long-distance trade was an integral part of the local economy. Thanks to the Inn Bridge and its favourable geographic position, the city had been integrated into European trade networks since the twelfth century. A substantial portion of Innsbruck’s wealthy elite—who also exercised political influence through the city council—emerged from the mercantile class.

At the beginning of the eighteenth century, coffee appeared for the first time in Innsbruck’s municipal legislation, a strong indication that it had crossed the threshold into public significance within urban life. In 1713, the city council decreed that coffee might be purchased exclusively in pharmacies. Much like Red Bull in the 1990s, the exotic drink was initially viewed with suspicion. As demand grew in the Enlightenment climate of Emperor Joseph II’s reign and coffee gradually gained wider social acceptance, these restrictions were relaxed. Coffee nevertheless remained an exclusive and expensive indulgence of eccentric elites rather than an everyday beverage. Spice merchants—shops specialising in spices and foodstuffs—began to sell coffee. The Innsbruck coffee brand Nosko, which still exists today, claims to be the city’s oldest roastery, tracing its origins to the spice shop founded in 1751 by Josef Ulrich Müller at Seilergasse 18. Unterberger & Comp. Kolonialwaren, the second coffee roastery still operating in Innsbruck today, likewise began as a spice merchant’s business. Jakob Fischnaller took over a shop in the Old Town that had existed since 1660 and began selling coffee there in 1768. Restaurateurs followed this slowly emerging trend. With the arrival of the first licensed coffee servers at the end of the 1750s, the triumphal advance of the coffee bean began. These early establishments bore little resemblance to the Viennese coffeehouse culture known worldwide today. In 1793, Café Katzung opened its doors to the affluent bourgeoisie, who began to appropriate public space with billiard tables and newspaper stands. Fifty years later, there were already eight coffeehouses in the small city of Innsbruck. Unlike traditional inns, coffeehouses symbolised a new, urban, and enlightened lifestyle and marked a clear distinction between city and countryside. For a long time, wine and beer had been the everyday drinks of the masses. In the Middle Ages, water from wells—especially in larger cities—was often considered unsafe, while light wine and nourishing, calorie-rich beer were more reliable alternatives. Alcohol, however, dulled the senses. Under Maria Theresa, peasants were granted local distilling rights. The strong, often cheaply produced spirits distilled from fallen fruit were popular among the rural population and among workers and employees in cities alike—and problematic at the same time. Anyone concerned with social standing avoided them. Coffee, by contrast, promoted alertness and productivity and supported the new virtues of diligence and industriousness. In cities such as Innsbruck, the compliant subject was gradually replaced by the critical, newspaper‑reading citizen. Consuming the expensive colonial commodity allowed one to present oneself as a connoisseur, capable of distinguishing genuine bean coffee from the cheap brews adulterated with various fillers—and able to afford it—thereby setting oneself apart from the lower classes. When Napoleon banned the import of coffee in the territories under his control in 1810 in an attempt to weaken the British economy, which depended heavily on overseas trade, this sparked fierce protests throughout Europe. Fig and chicory coffee, used as substitutes—as would later again be the case during the World Wars—met with little enthusiasm among the bourgeois population.

The colonial goods trade, which linked the exploitative business models of African coffee plantations, American tobacco plantations and South American fruit plantations with the Alps, reached a high point in Innsbruck, as in the entire German-speaking region, from the end of the 19th century, when the European powers' race for Africa entered the home straight. In 1900, there were around 40 colonial goods traders in Innsbruck. These were mostly speciality shops and general merchants who sold various, usually expensive goods from all over the world. Above all, luxury goods such as rum, tobacco, cocoa, tea and coffee or exotic fruits such as bananas were sold as colonial goods to the wealthy Innsbruck bourgeoisie. From this time onwards, the Viennese coffee house culture with all its peculiarities finally became the standard for the bourgeois culture of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Monarchy. No matter where you were between Innsbruck in the west and Czernowitz in the east of the vast empire, you could be sure of finding a railway station, an appropriate hotel and a coffee house with German-speaking staff and a similar menu and furnishings. Coffee houses, unlike traditional inns, were places where not only the aristocracy and new elites, but also men and women, albeit often in separate areas as in the Cafe Munding, could spend time.

Neither coffeehouse culture nor colonial goods shops disappeared from everyday life with the rupture of the First World War and the end of the monarchy. In the 1930s, around sixty such businesses were still operating in Innsbruck. Supermarkets with extensive assortments as we know them today did not yet exist; shopping was still done at market stalls or in small shops. Only after the Second World War did the term Kolonialwaren disappear from the city’s trade registers, replaced by the designations coffee roastery and fruit importer. What remains, however, is not only Viennese coffeehouse culture. Innsbruck is still home to several of the oldest cafés of their kind, including Katzung, Munding, and Central. Since 1884, the firm Ischia has distributed exotic fruits in the city and remains a prominent feature of the urban landscape to this day with its distinctive logo on the company building next to the new city library. A brass plaque at Herzog‑Friedrich‑Strasse 26 and a large version of the logo depicting a trading ship on the main thoroughfare Egger‑Lienz‑Strasse near the Westbahnhof attest to the presence of the Unterberger brand. More contentious is the logo of Praxmarer Kaffee, which shows a kneeling “Moor” offering a cup on a façade in Amraserstrasse. While the traditional coffee company no longer exists, the firm Praxmarer Obst—trading in exotic fruits—continues to operate under the same name.

The First World War not only brought ruling dynasties and empires to an end, the 1920s also saw many changes in art, music, literature and architecture. While jazz, atonal music and expressionism failed to establish themselves in little Innsbruck, a handful of architects changed the cityscape in an astonishing way. Inspired by new forms of design such as the Bauhaus style, skyscrapers from the USA and the Soviet Modernism from the revolutionary USSR, sensational projects emerged in Innsbruck. The best-known representatives of the avant-garde who brought about this new way of designing public space in Tyrol were Lois Welzenbacher, Siegfried Mazagg, Theodor Prachensky and Clemens Holzmeister. Each of these architects had their own idiosyncrasies, making the Tiroler Moderne nur schwer eindeutig zu definieren ist. Allen gemeinsam war die Abwendung von der klassizistischen Architektur der Vorkriegszeit unter gleichzeitiger Beibehaltung typischer alpiner Materialien und Elemente unter dem Motto Form follows function. Lois Welzenbacher schrieb 1920 in einem Artikel der Zeitschrift Tyrolean highlands about the architecture of this period:

"As far as we can judge today, it is clear that the 19th century lacked the strength to create its own distinct style. It is the age of stillness... Thus details were reproduced with historical accuracy, mostly without any particular meaning or purpose, and without a harmonious overall picture that would have arisen from factual or artistic necessity."

The best-known and most impressive representative of the so-called Tiroler Moderne was Franz Baumann (1892 - 1974). Unlike Holzmeister or Welzenbacher, he had no academic training. Baumann was born in Innsbruck in 1892, the son of a postal clerk. The theologian, publicist and war propagandist Anton Müllner, alias Bruder Willram became aware of Franz Baumann's talent as a draughtsman and enabled the young man to attend the Staatsgewerbeschule, today's HTL, at the age of 14. It was here that he met his future brother-in-law Theodor Prachensky. Together with Baumann's sister Maria, the two young men went on excursions in the area around Innsbruck to paint pictures of the mountains and nature. During his school years, he gained his first professional experience as a bricklayer at the construction company Huter & Söhne. In 1910 Baumann followed his friend Prachensky to Merano to work for the company Musch & Lun zu arbeiten. Meran war damals Tirols wichtigster Tourismusort mit internationalen Kurgästen. Unter dem Architekten Adalbert Erlebach machte er erste Erfahrungen bei der Planung von Großprojekten wie Hotels und Seilbahnen. Wie den Großteil seiner Generation riss der Erste Weltkrieg auch Baumann aus Berufsleben und Alltag. An der Italienfront erlitt er im Kampfeinsatz einen Bauchschuss, von dem er sich in einem Lazarett in Prag erholte. In dieser ansonsten tatenlosen Zeit malte er Stadtansichten von Bauwerken in und rund um Prag. Diese Bilder, die ihm später bei der Visualisierung seiner Pläne helfen sollten, wurden in seiner einzigen Ausstellung 1919 präsentiert.

Baumann's breakthrough came in the second half of the 1920s. He was able to win the tenders for the remodelling of the Weinhaus Happ in the old town and the Nordkettenbahn railway. In addition to his creativity and ability to think holistically, he was also able to harmonise his architectural approach with the legal situation and the modern requirements of tendering in the 1920s. Construction was a state matter, the Tyrolean Heritage Protection Association together with the district administration, was the final authority responsible for the assessment and authorisation of construction projects. During his time in Merano, Baumann was already involved with the Homeland Security Association came into contact with it. Kunibert Zimmeter had founded this association together with Gotthard Graf Trapp in the final years of the monarchy. In "Our Tyrol. A heritage book" he wrote:

"Let us look at the flattening of our private lives, our amusements, at the centre of which, significantly, is the cinema, at the literary ephemera of our newspaper reading, at the hopeless and costly excesses of fashion in the field of women's clothing, let us take a look at our homes with the miserable factory furniture and all the dreadful products of our so-called gallantry goods industry, Things that thousands of people work to produce, creating worthless bric-a-brac in the process, or let us look at our apartment blocks and villas with their cement façades simulating palaces, countless superfluous towers and gables, our hotels with their pompous façades, what a waste of the people's wealth, what an abundance of tastelessness we must find there."

The economic boom of the late 1920s saw the emergence of a new clientele and clientele that placed new demands on buildings and therefore on the construction industry. In many Tyrolean villages, hotels had replaced churches as the largest building in the townscape. The aristocratic distance from the mountains had given way to a bourgeois enthusiasm for sport. This called for new solutions at new heights. No more grand hotels were built at 1500 m for spa holidays, but a complete infrastructure for skiers in high alpine terrain such as the Nordkette. The Tyrolean Heritage Protection Association ensured that nature and townscape were protected from overly fashionable trends, excessive tourism and ugly industrial buildings. Building projects had to blend harmoniously, attractively and appropriately into the environment. Despite the social and artistic innovations of the time, architects had to keep the typical regional character in mind. This was precisely the strength of Baumann's approach to holistic building in the Tyrolean sense. All technical functions and details, the embedding of the buildings in the landscape, taking into account the topography and sunlight, played a role for him, who was not officially allowed to use the title of architect. He thus followed the "Rules for those who build in the mountains" by the architect Adolf Loos from 1913:

Don't build picturesquely. Leave such effects to the walls, the mountains and the sun. The man who dresses picturesquely is not picturesque, but a buffoon. The farmer does not dress picturesquely. But he is...

Pay attention to the forms in which the farmer builds. For they are ancestral wisdom, congealed substance. But seek out the reason for the mould. If advances in technology have made it possible to improve the mould, then this improvement should always be used. The flail will be replaced by the threshing machine."

Baumann designed even the smallest details, from the exterior lighting to the furniture, and integrated them into his overall concept of the Tiroler Moderne in.

From 1927, Baumann worked independently in his studio in Schöpfstraße in Wilten. He repeatedly came into contact with his brother-in-law and employee of the building authority, Theodor Prachensky. From 1929, the two of them worked together to design the building for the new Hötting secondary school on Fürstenweg. Although boys and girls still had to be planned separately in the traditional way, the building was otherwise completely in keeping with the style of the Neuen Sachlichkeit and the principle Light, air and sun.

In his heyday, he employed 14 people in his office. Thanks to his modern approach, which combined function, aesthetics and economical construction, he survived the economic crisis well. Only the 1000-mark barrier, die Hitler 1934 über Österreich verhängte, um die Republik finanziell in Bredouille zu bringen, brachte sein Architekturbüro wie die gesamte Wirtschaft in Probleme. Nicht nur die Arbeitslosenquote im Tourismus verdreifachte sich innerhalb kürzester Zeit, auch die Baubranche geriet in Schwierigkeiten. 1935 wurde Baumann zum Leiter der Zentralvereinigung für Architekten, nachdem er mit einer Ausnahmegenehmigung ausgestattet diesen Berufstitel endlich tragen durfte. Im gleichen Jahr plante er die Hörtnaglsiedlung in the west of the city.

After the Anschluss in 1938, he quickly joined the NSDAP. On the one hand, like his colleague Lois Welzenbacher, he was probably not averse to the ideas of National Socialism, but on the other he was able to further his career as chairman of the Reich Chamber of Fine Arts in Tyrol. In this position, he courageously opposed the destructive furore with which those in power wanted to change Innsbruck's cityscape, which did not correspond to his idea of urban planning. The mayor of Innsbruck, Egon Denz, wanted to remove the Triumphal Gate and St Anne's Column in order to make more room for traffic in Maria-Theresienstraße. The city centre was still a transit area from the Brenner Pass in the south to reach the main road to the east and west on today's Innrain. At the request of Gauleiter Franz Hofer, a statue of Adolf Hitler was to be erected in place of St Anne's Column. Hofer also wanted to have the church towers of the collegiate church blown up. Baumann's opinion on these plans was negative. When the matter made it to Albert Speer's desk, he agreed with him. From this point onwards, Baumann was no longer awarded any public projects by Gauleiter Hofer.

After being questioned as part of the denazification process, Baumann began working at the city building authority, probably on the recommendation of his brother-in-law Prachensky. Baumann was fully exonerated, among other things by a statement from the Abbot of Wilten, whose church towers he had saved, but his reputation as an architect could no longer be repaired. Moreover, his studio in Schöpfstraße had been destroyed by a bomb in 1944. In his post-war career, he was responsible for the renovation of buildings damaged by the war. Under his leadership, Boznerplatz with the Rudolfsbrunnen fountain was rebuilt as well as Burggraben and the new Stadtsäle (Note: today House of Music).

Franz Baumann died in 1974 and his paintings, sketches and drawings are highly sought-after and highly traded. Anyone who takes a close look at recent major projects such as the city library, the PEMA towers and many of Innsbruck's housing estates will recognise the approaches of the Tiroler Moderne rediscover even today.

The year 1848 occupies a mythical place in European history. Innsbruck was not one of the hotspots like Paris, Vienna, Budapest, Milan or Berlin, but even in the “Holy Land” of Tyrol the revolutionary year left its mark. In contrast to the rural surroundings, an enlightened educated bourgeoisie had developed in Innsbruck. Enlightened people no longer wanted to be subjects of a monarch or territorial prince, but citizens with rights and duties in relation to a modern state. Students and members of the liberal professions demanded political participation, freedom of the press and civil rights. Workers demanded better wages and working conditions. Particularly radical liberals and nationalists even questioned the absolute authority of the Church. In March 1848 this socially and politically highly explosive mixture erupted in uprisings and street fighting in many cities. In Innsbruck, some students and professors celebrated the newly granted freedom of the press with a torchlight procession. On the whole, however, the revolution proceeded quietly in the rather leisurely Tyrol. To speak of a spontaneous outburst of emotion or even a revolution would already be an exaggeration: the date of the procession was postponed from 20 to 21 March because of bad weather. There were hardly any anti-Habsburg riots or violent incidents; a stray stone thrown into a Jesuit window was one of the highlights of the Alpine version of the Revolution of 1848. The students even supported the city magistrate in maintaining public order, thereby demonstrating their gratitude to the monarch for the newly granted freedoms and their loyalty.

The initial enthusiasm for change among the bourgeois elites was soon replaced in Innsbruck by a surge of German-national patriotism. On April 6, 1848, the governor of Tyrol led a ceremonial procession in which the German flag was displayed. A German tricolour was also hoisted on the city tower. While students, workers, liberal-national citizens, republicans, supporters of a constitutional monarchy, and Catholic conservatives could not agree on social issues such as press freedom, they shared a common hostility toward the Italian independence movement, which had spread across northern Italy from Piedmont and Milan. Innsbruck students and riflemen, with the support of the imperial army leadership, marched into the Trentino to suppress unrest and uprisings at an early stage. Notable members of this corps included the already elderly Father Haspinger, who had fought alongside Andreas Hofer in 1809, and Adolf Pichler. Johann Nepomuk Mahl-Schedl, a wealthy owner of Büchsenhausen Castle, even equipped his own company and marched over the Brenner Pass to secure the border. However, the war did not remain confined to the southern borders. Innsbruck itself, as the political and economic center of the multinational crown land of Tyrol and home to many Italian speakers, became an arena of the conflict between nationalities. Combined with ample alcohol consumption, anti-Italian sentiment posed a greater threat to public order than the demand for civil liberties. A dispute between a German-speaking craftsman and an Italian-speaking Ladin escalated to such an extent that it nearly triggered a pogrom against the numerous businesses and inns of Italian-speaking Tyroleans.

The relative calm of Innsbruck suited the imperial court in Vienna, which was under pressure. As unrest in the capital continued after March, Emperor Ferdinand fled to Tyrol in May. According to contemporary press reports, he was enthusiastically welcomed by the population.

"“What is the name of the land to which such an honour falls, what is the people that enjoys such trust in these fateful times? Does the peace and security here rest solely on legend from ancient times, or is there also in the present a foundation on which one can build, which the wind cannot blow away and the storm cannot shake? This Alpine land is called Tyrol, do you like it? Yes, the Tyrolean people alone prove, in the midst of a shaken Europe, reverence and loyalty, courage and strength for their hereditary ruling house, while all around rebellion, contradiction, defiance and demands, often even revolt and upheaval rage; Tyrol alone stands firmly without wavering in custom and obedience, in religion, truth and law, while elsewhere insolence and falsehood, madness and passions prevail …”"

In June, a young Franz Joseph—still not yet emperor—also stopped at the Hofburg on his return from the battlefields of northern Italy instead of traveling directly to Vienna. Innsbruck once again became a royal residence, albeit only for one summer. While blood was shed in Vienna, Milan, and Budapest, the imperial family enjoyed rural Tyrolean life. Ferdinand, Franz Karl, his wife Sophie, and Franz Joseph received guests from foreign courts and were driven by carriage to excursion destinations such as Weiherburg, Stefansbrücke, Kranebitten, and even up to Heiligwasser, and went on hikes. This calm did not last long. Ferdinand, considered no longer fit to rule, handed over power under gentle pressure to Franz Joseph I. In July 1848, the first parliamentary session was held in Vienna, and a constitution came into force. However, the monarchy’s willingness to reform soon waned. The new parliament—the Reichsrat—could not pass binding laws, the emperor never attended it, and he did not understand why a monarchy ordained by God needed such a council.

Nevertheless, liberalization continued, especially in cities. Innsbruck was granted the status of a city with its own statute. Municipal law introduced a form of citizenship tied to property or tax payments, granting certain rights. Local voting rights were extended to adult male citizens. Innsbruck politics came to be dominated by a greater German liberal faction of merchants, traders, industrialists, and innkeepers. On June 2, 1848, the first issue of the liberal, pro-German Innsbrucker Zeitung was published. Conservative readers preferred the Volksblatt für Tirol und Vorarlberg, while moderates read the Bothen für Tirol und Vorarlberg. Press freedom, however, was soon restricted again. Censorship was partially reintroduced, and newspapers were not allowed to write against the provincial government, monarchy, or Church.

"Anyone who, by means of printed matter, incites, instigates or attempts to incite others to take action which would bring about the violent separation of a part from the unified state... of the Austrian Empire... or the general Austrian Imperial Diet or the provincial assemblies of the individual crown lands.... Imperial Diet or the Diet of the individual Crown Lands... violently disrupts... shall be punished with severe imprisonment of two to ten years."

After Innsbruck had officially replaced Meran as the provincial capital in 1849 and had thus finally become the political centre of Tyrol, parties began to form. With the establishment of the Catholic-conservative faction and the liberals, a pair of opposing ideas emerged that would shape politics not only until the First World War. Associations of all kinds as political organisations in advance of parties, and newspapers, formed the lines along which society split in all questions of life from the cradle to the grave. From 1868 onwards, the liberal, greater German-oriented party provided the mayor of the city of Innsbruck. The influence of the Church declined in Innsbruck in contrast to the surrounding municipalities. Individualism, capitalism, nationalism and consumption stepped into the breach. New worlds of work, department stores, theatres, cafés and dance halls did not displace religion entirely even in the city, but the weighting shifted as a result of the civil freedoms won in 1848.

The probably most important legal change of 1848 was the land relief patent. In Innsbruck the clergy, especially Wilten Abbey, owned a large part of the agricultural land. The Church and the nobility were exempt from taxes. In 1848/49 feudal lordship and the relationship of subjection were abolished in Austria. Ground rents, tithes and compulsory labour were thus removed. The landowners received one third of the value of their land from the state within the framework of the reform, one third was regarded as tax relief, and one third of the compensation had to be borne by the peasants themselves. They could pay this amount in instalments over twenty years. The after-effects can still be felt today. The descendants of the peasants who were successful at the time enjoy, through inherited land ownership resulting from the 1848 reforms, the fruits of prosperity and also political influence through land sales for housing, leases and compensation payments by public authorities for infrastructure projects. The landowning nobility of the past had to come to terms with the humiliation of taking up bourgeois occupations. The transition from privilege by birth to privileged status within society through financial means, networks and education often succeeded. Many Innsbruck dynasties of academics have their origins in the decades after 1848.

Life also changed for the broader population. The previously unknown phenomenon of leisure time emerged and, together with disposable income available to a greater number of people, fostered hobbies. Civil organisations and associations—from reading circles to choral societies, fire brigades and sports clubs—were founded. The revolutionary year also manifested itself in the cityscape. Parks such as the English Garden at Ambras Castle or the Hofgarten were no longer reserved exclusively for the aristocracy but served citizens as local recreational areas. In St. Nikolaus the Waltherpark was created as a small oasis of calm. One floor above, the first swimming and bathing facility in Tyrol opened at Büchsenhausen Castle; soon afterwards another bath followed in Dreiheiligen. Excursion inns around Innsbruck flourished. Alongside high-end restaurants and hotels, a scene of taverns emerged in which workers and employees could also afford pleasant evenings with theatre, music and dancing.

With Innsbruck’s rise to the status of a residence city, a true building boom began. Anyone who wished to wield influence needed to have a residence in the city, in order to be as close as possible to the centre of power. In the period before newspapers, a regular postal system, fax, and email, politics was conducted primarily through direct personal contact. One family was particularly closely associated with this development and played a decisive role in transforming the settlement at the Inn Bridge into a stone-built city in a contemporary Gothic style. In the fifteenth century, Sigismund the Rich in Coin brought Niklas Türing (1427–1496) to Innsbruck. Türing first appears in the historical record in 1488. The Türings were a family of stonemasons and master builders from Memmingen in what is now Swabia, a region that at the time belonged as part of Further Austria to the Habsburg Monarchy. Innsbruck had already been the seat of the provincial government for several decades, but architectural grandeur north of the Alps had yet to take hold. The city consisted largely of wooden houses and was scarcely representative. Over the course of the late Middle Ages, Gothic and, somewhat later, Renaissance art had enveloped Europe in a new architectural idiom, founded on a new understanding of architecture and aesthetics. Buildings such as Notre Dame or York Minster set a trend that would shape much of Europe until the onset of the Baroque. Pointed towers, ribbed vaults, bay windows, and playful carvings depicting scenes of courtly life are among the typical features that give this heterogeneous style its distinctive character. For craftsmen and builders, golden times dawned—times that would gather even greater momentum under Maximilian.

During this transitional period between the Middle Ages and the Early Modern era, the Türings left a lasting mark on Gothic Innsbruck. Their work can be traced particularly well in the Old Town. Many of the town houses, such as the Trautson House, still preserve Gothic ground plans, inner courtyards, and carved elements today. Thanks to their training, the Türings combined an eye for the overall structure with attention to detail in their building projects. They were renowned for their exceptionally fine stonework, which made it possible to create elaborate portals, arcades, staircases, and vaults. They produced ornamental reliefs with patterns typical of Renaissance art; grotesques, vases, and animal motifs were characteristic forms of embellishment for bay windows and plain walls. The symmetrical arrangement of individual elements is another hallmark of the period. A substantial part of the Golden Roof (Goldenes Dachl) is attributable to Niklas Türing. He also created the statue of the castle giant Haidl, an exceptionally tall member of Sigismund’s bodyguard, which can still be seen today in the City Tower. Emperor Maximilian held him in such high esteem that he permitted him to immortalise both the Türing family coat of arms and that of his wife—a fountain and a fish—in the vaulting of the Golden Roof. His son Gregor likewise left his mark, among other works, with the Trautson House in Herzog-Friedrich-Strasse and the House of the Castle Giant in Domgasse. Thanks to careers that advanced in step with the city’s development, the Türings gained not only fame and honour but also considerable wealth. A record from 1497 reports that Niklas Türing served the provincial ruler as a “salaried court mason.” When he died—either in 1517 or 1518, the precise year is unknown—his gravestone titled him “Chief Master Builder to His Roman Imperial Majesty.” Together with his son Gregor, he was listed as a master stonemason. The building boom also enabled the Türings to acquire citizenship in Innsbruck. By 1506 at the latest, they owned a house in the workers’ and artisans’ quarter of Anbruggen. In 1509 they were able to purchase the building that today houses the Gasthof zum Lamm in Mariahilfstrasse, and they later acquired additional property at what is now Schlossergasse 21.

The last member of the Türing family to exert a formative influence on Innsbruck’s building scene was Niklas Türing the Younger, who, together with Andrea Crivelli, began the planning work on the Hofkirche. During the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, the influence of Gothic architecture—particularly in what is now Austria—began to wane. In the course of the Counter-Reformation, churches in particular were increasingly rebuilt or newly constructed in the Baroque style. Today, Türingstrasse in eastern Innsbruck commemorates this early modern dynasty of master builders.

Many Tyroleans still like to see themselves as a nation of their own. With “Tirol isch lei oans,” “Zu Mantua in Banden,” and “Dem Land Tirol die Treue,” the federal state has no fewer than three more or less official anthems. This pronounced local patriotism, as in other Austrian provinces, has historical roots. Tyrolean freedom and independence are frequently invoked almost as local sacred relics to substantiate this self-image. People also like to speak of the first democracy on mainland Europe—an assertion that is clearly an exaggeration when one considers the feudal, hierarchy-driven history of the region well into the twentieth century. Nevertheless, a certain distinctiveness in Tyrol’s historical development cannot be denied, even if this involved less the participation of broad sections of the population than the curtailment of the sovereign’s power by local elites. Tyrolean princes were already minting coins bearing their likenesses at an early stage, yet their relationship with the clergy, the estates, and the population was subject to constant fluctuation. The first act of what might be called proto-democratic Tyrolean historiography was what the Innsbruck historian Otto Stolz (1881–1957) enthusiastically celebrated in the 1950s—drawing on English history—as a Magna Charta Libertatum. Following the marriage of the Bavarian Ludwig of Wittelsbach to the Tyrolean sovereign Margaret of Tyrol-Gorizia, the Bavarian Wittelsbach dynasty briefly ruled Tyrol. In order to win over the Tyrolean population, Ludwig decided in the fourteenth century to offer the estates a concession. In the Great Charter of Freedom of 1342, he promised the Tyroleans that no laws would be enacted and no taxes raised without prior consultation with the estates. However, this was by no means a democratic constitution in the modern, twenty-first-century sense, as the estates consisted primarily of the landed nobility, who naturally represented their own interests. Although one version of the document mentioned the inclusion of peasants as an estate in the regional assembly, this version was never officially implemented.

The second act followed with Habsburg involvement. As cities and the bourgeoisie gained greater political weight in the fifteenth century due to their economic importance, a counterbalance to the nobility emerged within the estates. At the Landtag of 1423 under Frederick IV, eighteen members of the nobility met for the first time with eighteen representatives of towns and the peasantry. Over time, a fixed composition developed in the regional assemblies of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. Represented were the bishops of Brixen and Trient, the abbots of Tyrolean monasteries, the nobility, delegates from the towns, and representatives of the peasantry. The Landeshauptmann presided over the assembly. Naturally, the resolutions and wishes of the Landtag were not binding on the prince; nevertheless, it was surely reassuring for a ruler to know that representatives of the population stood behind him or supported difficult decisions. 

Another important document for the region was the Tyrolean Landlibell. In 1511, Maximilian stipulated, among other things, that Tyrolean soldiers were to be deployed only for the defense of their own land. The reason for Maximilian’s apparent generosity lay less in affection for the Tyroleans than in the necessity of keeping the Tyrolean mines operational instead of sacrificing valuable workers and the peasantry that supported them on Europe’s battlefields. What is often overlooked is that the Landlibell also imposed significant restrictions on the population and increased financial burdens. In addition to regulating troop contingents, it defined special taxes. The nobility and clergy were required to use the income from their estates as the tax base, which often amounted to a rough estimate. Towns, by contrast, were taxed according to the number of hearths in their houses—a figure that could be recorded quite accurately. The highly sought-after mining workers were exempt from these taxes and were only conscripted for military service in cases of extreme emergency. This special regulation of territorial defense laid down in the Landlibell was one of the causes of the uprising of 1809, when young Tyroleans were conscripted during mobilization under universal military service. To this day, the Napoleonic Wars—during which the Catholic crown land was threatened by the “godless French” and the revolutionary social order—continue to shape Tyrolean self-perception. During this defensive struggle, a bond formed between Catholicism and Tyrol. Before a decisive battle against Napoleon’s armies in June 1796, the Tyrolean riflemen entrusted their fate to the Sacred Heart of Jesus and entered into a personal covenant with God to protect the Holy Land of Tyrol. Another identity-forming legend from 1796 centers on a young woman from the village of Spinges. Katharina Lanz, who entered regional history as the “Virgin of Spinges,” is said to have motivated the nearly defeated Tyrolean troops through her commanding presence in battle, ultimately enabling them to overcome the French superiority. Depending on the account, she is said to have wielded a pitchfork, a flail, or a scythe—much like the French maiden Joan of Arc—striking fear into Napoleon’s troops. Legends and traditions surrounding the riflemen and the notion of being an independent, God-chosen nation accidentally attached to the Republic of Austria stem from these narratives. The government in Vienna under Maria Theresa viewed this identity with skepticism. Distinct identities of individual crown lands did not align with enlightened concepts of a modern state. In the nineteenth century, too, efforts were made to strengthen identification with the monarchy and foster a new national consciousness. Subjects were meant to feel allegiance not to Tyrol, but to the House of Habsburg. The press, visits by the ruling family, monuments such as the Rudolf Fountain, and the opening of Bergisel with Hofer portrayed as a loyal Tyrolean were intended to help transform the population into faithful imperial subjects. Over the centuries, Innsbruck’s inhabitants saw themselves as Tyroleans, Germans, Catholics, and subjects of the emperor—but hardly anyone identified as Austrian before 1945. Only after the Second World War did a sense of belonging to Austria slowly begin to develop in Tyrol as well.

The end of the monarchy further strengthened Tyrolean national sentiment. When the Habsburg Empire collapsed after the First World War, the crown land of Tyrol also fell apart. What had been known as South Tyrol until 1918—the Italian-speaking region between Riva on Lake Garda and Salurn in the Adige Valley—became Trentino with its capital in Trento. Liberals and conservatives, otherwise divided on almost every issue, were united in their hostility toward the unwanted division of the province and the founding of the Republic of German-Austria. Even today, many Tyroleans take particular pride in their local identity and readily distinguish themselves from residents of other federal states. For many Tyroleans, the Brenner Pass still represents an unjust border more than a century later, even though political cross-border cooperation takes place at the EU level within the framework of a “Europe of the Regions.” The legend of the Holy Land, the independent Tyrolean nation, and the first mainland democracy persists to this day. The saying “bisch a Tiroler bisch a Mensch, bisch koana, bisch a Oasch” (“If you’re a Tyrolean, you’re a human being; if you’re not, you’re an arse”) succinctly captures Tyrolean nationalism. The fact that the historical crown land of Tyrol was a multiethnic construct—including Italians, Ladins, Cimbrians, and Rhaeto-Romans—is often deliberately ignored in right-wing circles. Laws from the federal capital Vienna or even from Brussels are viewed with unreflective skepticism. Nationalists on both sides of the Brenner still draw on figures such as the Virgin of Spinges, the Sacred Heart of Jesus, and Andreas Hofer to present their causes in a way that resonates with the public.