It is, quite literally, ‘above Nusle’, and also serves as a reminder that, in Czech, Nusle is plural.
I thought this might be because it was formed by the combination of Upper (Horní) and Lower (Dolní) Nusle… but it seems those were already plural too.
One famous resident of Nad Nuslemi was a young Rudolf Hrušínský (1920-1994), who would go on to become one of the most famous Czech actors, especially for playing Švejk in both 1956 and 1957.
A spring called Jezerka is mentioned way back in Cosmas’ Chronica Boemorum (written from 1119 to 1125). Apparently, Libuše – she who predicted the founding of the city of Prague (https://whatsinapraguestreetname.com/2024/08/23/prague-2-day-93-libusina/) – used to go here to get water to bathe in.
In the Middle Ages, there was a vineyard and homestead here, both called Šustrová.
In 1835, the homestead was converted into a château and was renamed Jezerka; a restaurant operated here.
This was closed down in 1948 when the building was acquired by the municipality of Nusle; in 1949, construction commenced on a park, also called Jezerka.
In the 1970s the former inn building was used as a studio for Czechoslovak Television; since 2004, it’s hosted a theatre, Divadlo Na Jezerce.
But sometimes, that’s not the peak, and you may end up even higher – which is exactly what Vyšší means.
For some vocabulary – thankfully less filled with British and American politicians than the last two days – ‘vyšší vrstvy’ are the upper classes, ‘vyšší moc’ is force majeure, and ‘vyšší vzdělání’ is higher education.
Or, therefore, that the ‘horní komora’ or ‘horní sněmovna’ is the House of Lords (if you’re talking about Britain) or the Senate (if you’re talking about the US).
This three-parter ends tomorrow. Apparently, you can get upper than upper.
The first street leading off Jaurisova, when heading upwards, is this one.
And ‘dolní’ is Czech for ‘lower’. I should warn you that this is part of a trilogy, so don’t go expecting any juicy stories on days 49 or 50.
But, for vocabulary fans, the ‘Dolní komora’ is how we would refer to the House of Commons (in the UK) or the House of Representatives (in the US), much as we would like a break from referring to either.
You’ll also see the House of Commons being referred to as the Dolní sněmovna.
Pankrác Jauris was born in 1847, and was a mayor of Michle. There’ll be plenty of Michle coming up in future posts – indeed, this street is partially there, partially in Nusle.
So, for now, I’ll keep it brief and say that the earliest written mention we have of Michle is from 1185, and that it, like Nusle and so many other Prague districts, became part of Prague in 1922.
From 1912, he also ran a restaurant called Na Jezerce, which doesn’t exist these days, but a street and theatre with that name are still very much present.
Jauris died in 1934. Nowadays, the Michle Sokol is on Pod Stárkou (link to be placed here once I’m deep into my Michle era).
As the street is named after Nusle, this was going to be day one of the series, until I realised that telling the whole story of Nusle might leave me with very little to say about many of the surrounding roads.
Until 1892, the part of Nuselská that was in Nusle was called Michelská silnice, as it was the main road that led to the nearby district of Michle. Meanwhile, the part of Nusleská that was in Michle was called… Nuselská silnice, for equal and opposite reasons.
Anyway, Nusle-specific things on this street that we haven’t look at yet include the Národní dům / National House, which is currently annoying me no end because I know I’ve got a photo of it somewhere.
The Neo-Renaissance building, opened in 1898 when Nusle itself obtained town status, used to be a cultural and social centre, but is now mainly residential.
I’m also quite partial to number 59 – which I can find my photos of. It’s a residential Art Nouveau building, built in 1914.
Its highlight is the two musicians – a guitarist and a lutist – surrounding its front door.
A ‘podjezd’ is an underpass, and this street leads to (‘k’) one.
And this particular underpass leads to Praha-Vršovice railway station, which, as you might have guessed from its name, is not in Nusle (nor is it in Prague 4, so there may be a bit of a wait before I have to write about it in detail).
Luděk Marold was born in Malá Strana in 1865; he was illegitimate and took his mother’s family name. He lost both parents by the age of seven, and was then raised by his aunt, Josefa Maroldová.
At the age of sixteen, he was accepted into Prague’s Academy of Fine Arts, but after a year, he continued his studies at the equivalent institution in Munich, where he produced paintings of everyday life and befriended fellow countrymen such as Alfons Mucha (they’re both in this photo).
However, later in 1898, Marold contracted typhus, and died within a week. He was 33. His wife, Zdena, whom he had married in 1891, would take her own life in 1903.
Our starting point is ‘klobouk’, which means ‘hat’. A diminutive form of this is ‘klobouček’, which means ‘cap’ (i.e. a little hat).
Meanwhile, a ‘kloboučnictví’ would either be a place where hats are made, or where they’re sold. Apparently, this trade is called ‘millinery’, which may be something everybody else on the planet is aware of, but I swear I’d never seen that word until three minutes ago.
Anyway, in 1909, a hat factory stared operating here. Run by Stanislav Bartoš (1866-1935), it mainly produced women’s hats, but also made straw hats for men, and gave the street its name.
An extra building with a Cubist façade, serving as an space to exhibit the hats, was added to the factory in 1914.
The factory expanded in the 1920s; when nationalisation kicked in after WW2, the factory was used by Tonak, a firm which still exists (https://www.tonak.cz/kontakt/).
The main entrance to the factory – on V Horkách – is long gone, having been replaced by a residential building. However, the abovementioned exhibition hall still exists at Kloboučnická 13.
During his studies, he joined the Social Democratic Party, co-founded a student union, and edited a student magazine.
Despite having spent much of his early life thinking he would become a priest, Bartošek had, by this time, become an atheist; when the Volná myšlenka / Free Thought organisation was set up in the Czech Lands in 1904, he was one of its figureheads, travelling to international freethinker conferences, not only in Europe, but also in North America.
During World War I, the organisation was banned, and, in 1916, Bartošek was imprisoned, and then interned in a camp in Austria. When the camp closed down in 1917, he was called up for military service.
Once the war was over – and Czechoslovakia was a reality – he moved back to Prague and joined the Czechoslovak Socialist Party (ČSSD), winning a seat in the National Assembly in the 1920 elections.
However, Bartošek’s freethinking attitude clashed with that of the party; in 1923, he, and others, opposed the Defense of the Republic Act. As a result, he was expelled from the party – and stripped of his parliamentary seat. He joined the Socialist Union, a new political grouping.
However, this union was short lived – one of its two groupings decided to join the ČSSD in 1924. The second grouping – the one Bartošek was in – formed a new party, the Independent Socialist Workers’ Party, but ‘independent’ turned out to be a misnomer – this new party was merged with the Communist Party of Czechoslovakia in 1925.
Bartošek represented the Communists on Prague City Council and took part in cultural delegations to the Soviet Union; however, his membership of the party meant he was dismissed from the Freethinkers.
After the war, he became vice-president of the Czech Bar Association (the legal type, not the drinking type), worked for the Czech Communist Party’s Central Committee, and, as a supporter of the Communist coup in February 1948, then worked for the Ministry of Justice.
In late 1953, Bartošek was elected to the Czechoslovak Academy of Sciences, but, afflicted by heart disease, died in Prague less than a year later.
A ‘křížek’ is a small cross (a regular-sized cross is a ‘kříž’), and this was once the name of… something round here, probably involving the Holy Cross.
The street name is an adjective which derives from ‘družstvo’, meaning ‘association’, ‘collective’ or ‘co-op’.
For many, the word has communist connotations – a ‘zemědělské družstvo’ is what we would call a cooperative farm, although it also translates as ‘agricultural cooperative’, and, as Dairy Farmers of America and similar organisations will tell you, they don’t need to have a communist country around them to exist.
However, we’re not dealing with agriculture here – the ‘družstvo’ in question is a ‘stavební družstvo’, which we’d translate as ‘construction cooperative’ – or ‘building society’.
And, back in 1920, when Nusle hadn’t yet become part of Greater Prague, but, like all the neighbouring districts, was expanding significantly as Prague itself became a capital city, a building society was responsible for building the dwellings in this street. Hence the name.
U Pernštejnských was built in 1938, but was nameless until 1947.
The Pernštejns were a noble family originating in south-west Moravia. They reached the peak of their power in the 1500s, becoming one of the three richest families in the Czech Lands.
However, by the mid-1600s, they were no more, as the last of the female line, Polyxena (excellent name) married into the Lobkowicz family.
Historical sources are pretty silent on what happened in the 150+ years after the Empire fell, although it seems that settlements developed and tribes united with each other.
Meanwhile, from the west, Charlemagne was extending the borders of his Frankish Empire; this included a mission to Bohemia around 805, aiming to undermine local tribes.
The Principality of Moravia, meanwhile, was first mentioned in writing in 822; then, in 833, we have our first mention of Mojmír. It’s believed that he was responsible for uniting tribes from Moravia, western Slovakia and the surrounding areas. Some historians say he was a descendant of Sámo; others say he was of Persian origin.
In 833, Mojmír attacked the Principality of Nitra. This principality was either separate from Moravia at the time, or, under its duke, Pribina, was already part of Moravia but trying to break free.
In any case Mojmír was successful, and, from this point on, the principalities were definitively united, and known as Great Moravia. This is considered to be the first major Slavic state (sorry, Sámo).
Meanwhile, Pribina fled, seeking Frankish protection; however, he was a pagan, and Mojmír was on good terms with his western neighbours, so they gave Pribina a new territory to rule over – in Pannonia – but didn’t intervene against Great Moravia.
It seems that Mojmír accepted Christianity, and that it was during his reign that Moravia got its first churches.
In 846, Louis the German, grandson of Charlemagne, and first King of East Francia – a proto-Germany – invaded Great Moravia. Apparently, Mojmír died during this invasion; he was succeeded by his nephew, Rostislav (who we discussed yesterday: https://whatsinapraguestreetname.com/2025/02/15/prague-4-day-35-rostislavova/).
Great Moravia itself would survive until about 907, reaching its greatest extent under Rostislav.
Rostislav was the nephew of Mojmír I, the first known ruler of the Moravian Slavs. More on him in a couple of days.
It’s possible that, as a child, he was held as a vassal, upon Uncle Mojmír’s request, by Louis the German, King of East Francia.
Louis invaded Moravia in 846, dethroned Mojmír, and replaced him with Rostislav, who he expected would be an ally.
However, from the 850s, Rostislav started befriending Louis’ opponents and granting them asylum. Louis reacted in 855 by invading Great Moravia, but Rostislav’s men counterattacked successfully.
In 858, Rostislav became an ally of Carloman, governor of Carantania (nowadays in Austria and Slovenia) – and son of Louis. This alliance helped Rostislav to gain territory in Hungary.
In 861, the two of them would attack Louis’ forces. Rostislav attacked the Principality of Blatno, deposed its ruler, Pribina, and installed Pribina’s son, Kocel, who was to be Rostislav’s protégé.
Louis, meanwhile, formed an alliance with the Bulgarians, and eventually got his wayward son to stop rebelling against him.
In the 860s, Rostislav wrote to Pope Nicholas I, asking for a ‘teacher’ who would educate priests and help spread Christianity in Moravia, but didn’t get a reply, probably because the Pope didn’t want to annoy Louis.
Rostislav then tried his luck with the Byzantine Emperor, Michael III. This time, he was more successful – in 863, Michael sent two of the greatest Byzantine scholars, Cyril and Methodius.
In 864, Louis invaded Great Moravia. This time, Rostislav had to accept domination and the reintroduction of Latin priests who he had had thrown out about fifteen years earlier.
However, Cyril and Methodius stayed. In 869 – the year of another invasion by Louis – the Pope recognised Methodius as the local bishop.
Rostislav made plans for Svatopluk to be killed, but the latter foiled his plan, had him captured and delivered him to Louis.
Rostislav was sentenced to death, but Louis ‘generously’ commuted his sentence to blinding and imprisonment. He died in captivity, some time after 870.
In 1994, he was canonised by the Czech and Slovak Orthodox Church.
A ‘luh’ is a riparian forest, i.e. a forest that’s next to a body of water. It can also be translated as ‘meadow’, and it seems that that’s what the area round here was once known as.
I would apologise for the days on which these posts are short, but we all know that there’s always a long one round the corner (not tomorrow, though).