Right in front of you stands an impressive, sand-colored stone palace stretching along the corner with two grand, low, two-story wings, dozens of pale shutters, and tall hipped roofs peeking over-just look for the long, symmetrical building with the classical windows and the sturdy, no-nonsense presence at the crossroads.
Welcome to the Egloffsteinsches Palais-the largest baroque palace of the old Erlangen nobility! Imagine the year is 1718. The world smells of fresh-cut sandstone, powdered wigs, and maybe-if the wind is right-a whiff of horse and carriage. Count Carl Maximilian von Egloffstein, a man of ambition and, presumably, fabulous taste in hats, decides that nothing short of the grandest noble residence would suit him at the edge of the growing city. The result? This four-winged sandstone fortress with its grand hall and rows of wide shuttered windows, an aristocratic sight that must have made the neighbors feel very humble indeed.
On the Schuhstraße side, you might spot the long façade with its twenty-one windows-yes, count them if you like, but don’t get dizzy! The three windows in the middle bulge out grandly, marking where the majestic ballroom lies. Picture carriages rolling up, noble guests stepping out in swirling coats, music and candlelight floating from that grand salon. Inside, under an oval ceiling panel crafted by the Bayreuth master Andrea Domenico Cadenazzi, Apollo rides his chariot, the goddess Ceres lounges, and stucco cherubs beam down-an artistic treat designed to dazzle.
Yet things don’t always go as planned, even for counts and countesses. After Carl Maximilian’s death, debts piled up and by the 1740s, the palace was in new hands-first the state, which briefly housed dusty local officials, then the University, making plans for anatomical theaters and even an observatory. Imagine students poking at skeletons in one room while professors squint at the stars. But, sadly, money ran out faster than enthusiasm. The city finally bought the building in 1749 and transformed the front into a poorhouse and the back into an orphanage. If you shiver, it might be a ghostly orphan racing down these halls, or just a chilly Erlangen breeze.
During the worst harvest in 1746, the poorhouse buzzed with desperate energy, while the orphanage in the rear tried to keep children out of trouble by offering them their first lessons. In a twist of fate, this palace became home to future poet and orientalist Friedrich Rückert in the early 1800s. Look up at the windows-the tragic loss of his children in the palace’s rooms inspired heart-wrenching poetry that’s still read today. One might say that this grand building has seen its share of happiness and heartbreak.
Fast-forward to the industrial age-tobacco takes over! That’s right; the halls once trodden by counts and orphans became a tobacco factory, filling the building with the sweet, sharp aroma of snuff and cigars. Later, it hosted schools, including the Ohm-Gymnasium, which soon outgrew even this gigantic palace-the equivalent of teenage rebellion, but for an entire institution. At one point, it even had Bavarian Jager soldiers marching in its courtyards. If these walls had eyes, they’d be very, very surprised by all their tenants.
The palace changed again and again-public library, vocational school, and finally, today’s adult education center and Franco-German Institute. Over your head, most of the building is still protected as a historical monument, except the western wing, which was once stables and carriage houses (follow your nose-a faint smell of hay and horses may still linger in old stones, or maybe that’s just my imagination galloping).
So here stands the Egloffsteinsches Palais, a building that’s worn so many hats you’d think it owned stock in the local hat shop. Nobles, orphans, students, poets, soldiers, and just maybe, you-each leave a little mark on its long, long story.
