Alright, coming up on your right, imagine for a moment you’ve arrived at Egeregg Castle-but don’t worry if you don’t see turrets or drawbridges. These days, the grand structure is long gone, covered by a patchwork of modern housing and the ordinary business of city life. Still, if you listen carefully to the ground beneath your feet, you might sense a few secrets lingering.
Let’s rewind to 1551, when Koloman Egerer-a Viennese merchant with ambition (and, some might say, a decent flair for branding)-bought a plot here at what used to be the edge of Linz. Dealers needed water for their trades, and this area fit the bill, perched beside the Ludl, a small but lively side arm of the Danube. If someone told you today they bought a “bit swampy, prone-to-flooding” piece of land on the outskirts, you might raise an eyebrow. But Koloman? He snapped it up, tacked on a sturdy house, and after a bit of expansion, named his new place Egereck-giving it a whiff of aristocratic air, even before imperial approval.
His good fortune didn’t stop there. By 1572, Koloman was knighted by Emperor Maximilian II, and Egereck was elevated to the status of a “Freihaus,” which meant independence from a long list of taxes and feudal chores. I won’t bore you with the exact numbers, but back then, skipping city taxes was about as delightful as saving thousands of euros a year-quite the coup. The catch? He did have to put down a lump sum, the interest of which (imagine about a year’s salary, both then and now) went back to the city coffers as an artful compromise.
Koloman’s family life had as many twists as his real estate deal. His relatives married into all sorts of notable lineages-one daughter wed a humanist named Johann Sambucus, herself cited as Protestant, which in Catholic-majority Austria was, well, spicy. The Egerer men didn’t hang around long; by 1598, the male line fizzled out, and Egereck changed hands like a used car-passing through a series of aristocrats and officials, each more grandly titled than the last. The Grundemann family, for instance, beefed up their status with imperial favor and kept Egereck as their fancy weekend address.
Back then, Egeregg Castle was built in a robust square, anchored at each corner by onion-domed towers that seemed determined to look medieval-function following form, with no plans for actual battles. Locals could spot its silhouette in engravings, nestled in the marshy lowlands beside the “smelly” Ludl creek-a less-than-ideal address for a grand estate, unless you enjoyed exotic damp and the occasional mosquito.
Over the centuries, Egereck drifted between being a prestigious home, a fallback apartment for widows, and eventually, a management office for the sprawling Grundemann properties. But by the 1700s, the glamour faded. In 1737, it was torn down by order of Josef Groß von Ehrenstein, the postmaster (a surprisingly powerful gig), so he could build Linz’s first home for orphans and the poor, the Prunerstift. In classic Linz fashion, some demolition started before the emperor signed off on it, but, permission came through eventually. Parts of the old castle ended up in the foundation of that charity building-talk about recycling.
Even into the 1800s, the castle’s cellars served as horse stables, tucked away underground. When the railway came to town, Egereck’s last traces were swept away. Today, aside from a fading street name, there’s nothing left in sight-unless you count the invisible footprints of all those who schemed, dreamed, or tried to dodge taxes on this spot.
Ready for a change of pace? MAERZ, the Artists' Association, is just a minute north. Let’s go see what’s new and creative in Linz.
