Brühl's Terrace

Start with the stone under your feet. It is smooth and slightly uneven, worn down by generations of strolling shoes. Below you, the Elbe moves slowly past, wide and grey-green. On a calm day you can hear the slap of water against the moored paddle steamers, the cry of gulls, and a street musician somewhere behind you. Welcome to Brühl's Terrace, the raised promenade that runs along the old town riverbank of Dresden.

This place has a famous nickname. People call it the Balcony of Europe. The phrase is often linked to the poet Goethe, but nobody can say for certain who said it first. Either way, the name fits. You are standing high above the river, on a long stone ledge, with the whole of the Elbe valley spread out in front of you. It feels like stepping onto a balcony that belongs to the entire city.

Here is the first surprise. This elegant promenade began as a weapon. The ground beneath you is part of Dresden's old city fortifications. In the sixteenth century, the rulers of Saxony built thick walls and bastions along the river to protect their capital. A bastion is an angled stone platform that juts out from a wall, so that defenders can fire along its length. The terrace sits on top of those defences. You are walking on a former war machine.

So who was Brühl? Heinrich von Brühl was the powerful chief minister of Augustus the Third, Elector of Saxony and King of Poland, in the eighteenth century. In 1739, the ruler gave Brühl this stretch of the fortifications. Brühl did not see walls. He saw a garden. He laid out terraces and planted greenery. He built a palace, a library, a picture gallery, and a small belvedere, which is a pavilion made for enjoying a view.

At that time, this was a private paradise. Ordinary people of Dresden could not simply walk up here. The view belonged to a minister and his guests. Brühl was famous for his luxury, and also for his debts. After the Seven Years' War, much of Saxony was in ruins, and Brühl's reputation suffered badly. Most of his buildings here have since disappeared, but his name stayed fixed to the terrace.

The great change came in 1814. After the defeat of Napoleon, Saxony was briefly under the control of the allied powers, and a Russian governor ran the city. He ordered the terrace opened to the public. A broad flight of steps was built up from the palace square. From that moment, this became a promenade for everyone. Families, students, soldiers, and lovers came here to walk, to talk, and to watch the river.

If you came up those wide steps, look back at them now. On the staircase stand four sculpture groups by the Dresden sculptor Johannes Schilling. They show the four times of day: morning, noon, evening, and night. Each figure has its own mood. Morning feels alert and fresh. Night feels heavy and still. It is a quiet way to remind every visitor that the terrace is a place to come back to at any hour.

Now turn and look along the length of the promenade. The buildings behind you are mostly from the late nineteenth century, when Dresden was rich and confident. One of them has a ribbed glass dome topped by a golden figure. That is the Academy of Fine Arts. Locals gave the dome a playful nickname: the lemon squeezer. Once you hear it, you cannot stop seeing it. Its folded, fluted shape really does look like the kitchen tool.

Further along stands the Albertinum, a large building that today holds art collections. Dresden's art museums are among the most important in Germany. Here you will also find monuments to people who shaped the city's culture. One honours the architect Gottfried Semper, who designed the opera house nearby. Another honours the sculptor Ernst Rietschel. The terrace works almost like an open-air hall of fame for Dresden's artists.

Here is the second surprise, and it lies beneath you. Under the terrace, parts of the old fortress still survive as dark passages and vaulted rooms called casemates. They were buried and forgotten for a long time. Today a section can be visited. Inside, the air is cool, and the walls are rough and heavy. It is a strong contrast. Above, people eat ice cream in the sun. Below, the stone still carries the memory of cannon and guards.

There is also a local story about porcelain. Locals say that Johann Friedrich Böttger, the alchemist linked to the invention of European hard-paste porcelain in the early eighteenth century, worked in secret inside these fortifications. The ruler wanted him to make gold. Instead, his work helped lead to Meissen porcelain. The details of exactly where he worked are debated, so treat the exact spot as tradition. But the idea of white gold born inside a fortress wall is part of the terrace's charm.

In February 1945, Allied bombing destroyed much of Dresden's old centre. Many of the buildings around this terrace were badly damaged or burned. What you see today is the result of decades of careful rebuilding. Some stones are dark with age and fire. Others are pale and new. Look closely at the facades and you can often see this patchwork. The city chose to rebuild its riverside face, piece by piece.

Before you leave, walk to the railing and simply look. Across the water lies the Neustadt, the New Town. To your left, the Augustus Bridge crosses the river on its stone arches. Behind you, the dome of the Frauenkirche rises above the rooftops. Watch the steamers below, with their paddle wheels and tall funnels. Feel the stone railing, cool or warm depending on the hour. As you walk on, notice how the noise of the city fades up here, and the river sets the pace.