The State Rooms

The character of Schloss Leopoldskron begins with the stone itself. The staircase is formed from warm-toned marble quarried from the nearby Untersberg mountain – grounding the building literally and symbolically in its landscape.

Above, delicate white rococo stucco by Johann Kleber softens the classical geometry. The ceiling appears almost weightless, its sculpted forms rippling like fabric in motion. Watching over the ascent are statues of Roman emperors Marcus Aurelius and Septimius Severus - figures of intellect, duty, and imperial ambition – reminding visitors that architecture here was always intended to communicate meaning.

Designed in 1927 and inspired by the Abbey Library of St. Gallen, the Max Reinhardt Library was the creative and intellectual centre of Reinhardt’s life at Leopoldskron. Painted ceiling cartouches, carefully balanced proportions, and a concealed staircase reflect his theatrical imagination.

At its height, the library held some 15,000 volumes - including rare editions, theatre journals, and personally dedicated works. Several Stars of David and Reinhardt’s personal insignia are intricately set into the wooden and brass doors of the Library, symbols that mysteriously survived the Nazi seizure of the Schloss.

Many of Reinhardt’s books were saved and shipped to him in New York before further persecution could destroy them. After wartime misuse and liberation, the library returned to its role as a space of learning and exchange.

Today, it remains a place of reflection - where guests can relax with a book in an antique chair by the window, and where conversations continue long into the evening, a testament to Reinhardt’s deep love of learning, storytelling and human connection.
 

The Marble Hall’s ceiling offers an 18th-century vision of the “four corners of the earth.” Dragons and elephants represent Asia; parrots and monkeys, Africa; llamas and alligators, the Americas; horses and oxen, Europe. Framed within are references to the four elements, the arts, and the stages of life - an ambitious attempt to map human experience across the globe.

At its centre, Salzburg artist Franz Anton Ebner painted the mythological “Marriage of Atalanta,” a tale of love, wit, and divine intervention. The surrounding paintings by Andrea Rensi depict the founding of the Schloss and the lineage of ownership within the Firmian family.

The Marble Hall has also witnessed profound shifts in history. Following the seizure of the Schloss by the Gestapo in 1938, the hall hosted propaganda concerts and elite gatherings. Yet just two years after the war’s end, former enemies met here again to imagine a different future at the first ever Salzburg Seminar. Beauty and rupture coexist in this space – a reminder of how the Great Hall has both endured and been reclaimed.

Consecrated in 1744, the palace chapel marks the completion of the Schloss. Dominated by a gilded marble altar, the room is defined by luminous white surfaces and pale stucco ornamentation.

An altar painting by Franz Anton Ebner depicts Mary with the infant Jesus, alongside St. Leopold and St. Rupert - figures central to Salzburg’s religious history. Eleven paintings by Andrea Rensi line the walls and ceiling, conveying key teachings of the Catholic Church.

Though Archbishop Firmian was buried in Salzburg Cathedral after his death, his heart remains interred beneath the chapel floor — a testament to the place he “loved so dearly.”

Originally Max Reinhardt’s music parlour, the Venetian Salon is defined by golden wood panels and mirrored walls depicting scenes from Commedia dell’arte, a form of improvised theatre from the 16th Century. Installed in 1930 and purchased from an Italian palazzo, the panels form part of Austria’s protected heritage.

Commedia dell’arte – meaning “comedy of the profession” – was improvisational, satirical, and radically inclusive. It embraced women performers and blurred social hierarchies, celebrating the transformative power of performance. Reinhardt saw it as foundational to modern theatre.

The Venetian Salon provided the inspiration for the exquisitely designed ballroom in the Von Trapp family manor – where Maria first dances with the Captain in The Sound of Music.

Today, the room’s imagery invites deeper reflection. Figures such as Arlecchino – shown with darkened masks or painted faces – were once theatrical conventions, but now prompt larger questions and critical reflection. The Venetian Salon holds past and present in conversation – layered, complex, and evolving.

Adjacent to the Venetian Salon, the Mansbach White Salon mirrors its proportions but speaks more quietly. A blue-and-gold tiled stove from around 1740 anchors the room, its ornamentation more restrained than its neighbour’s.

Portraits of the Firmian family line the walls, framed by stucco work dating to the palace’s original construction. During Max Reinhardt’s era, the room housed porcelain and glassware used for elegant family meals.

In the post-war decades, it served as a discussion space and staff canteen before being carefully restored. Today, it once again offers cultivated charm for intimate gatherings and small dinners.

With gilded mirrors, hand-painted panels, and filtered light, the Green Salon is one of the Schloss’s most ornate spaces. Commissioned by Max Reinhardt in the 1920s, its decorative scheme draws on the French rococo tradition of chinoiserie - an 18th-century European interpretation of East Asian aesthetics.

This style, once a symbol of aristocratic worldliness, now raises questions of appreciation and appropriation. Reinhardt’s interpretation blended rococo art history with cinematic sensibility, creating a space suspended between homage and illusion.

Three statues of Kuan Yin, the Buddhist figure of compassion, stand within the room. Across centuries and cultures, Kuan Yin’s evolving form - sometimes male, female, or androgynous - speaks to care beyond fixed identity, adding another layer to the salon’s dialogue.