When the New Town was founded, this street was named Angelova, after Angelo of Florence (died 1408), court apothecary under Charles IV and his son, Wenceslas IV.
In 1757, it was renamed Bredovská after the noble Bredow family (Josef Breda was the governor of Prague’s Old Town, and owned property here).
One such property was turned into an orphanage upon the order of Maria Theresa; it’s now known as Schebek Palace, as a businessman called Jan Schebek commissioned a Neo-Renaissance makeover in 1870.
It’s now the headquarters of the National Economic Institute of the Academy of Sciences.
Another palace in the street – Petschek Palace – was commissioned by a local, German-speaking banker, Julius Petschek (1856-1932), as the headquarters for the family-run bank, Bankhaus Petschek & Co.
The Petschek family were Jewish, and the heads of the bank after Julius’ death – his son Walter and his nephew Hans – migrated in 1938, later settling in the United States.
In March 1939, the Nazis proclaimed the Protectorate of Bohemia and Moravia; a few months later, the Gestapo started to use Petschek Palace as their headquarters. They used the premises to torture and interrogate members of the Czech resistance.
About 36,000 people were interrogated here; many of them did not survive; the building became known colloquially as ‘Pečkárna’ (possibly a pun on the Petscheks, also similar to the Czech word for ‘bakery’). A plaque outside commemorates the brutality of the Gestapo.
The street therefore got its current name in 1946, but what isn’t mentioned on the plaque is the fact that, by this point, it was the home of the Czechoslovak secret police, also notorious for their brutal treatment of suspects.
They moved to new headquarters in 1948, since which point the building has been used by the Ministry for Industry and Trade.
There’s a museum, including a replica of the Gestapo torture chamber; visits are by request only. It’s run by the Czech Union of Freedom Fighters, a veteran organisation which isn’t without controversy, as several members served in the security services prior to 1989.
You may also recognise the building’s exterior from this scene in The Bourne Identity, where it was a body double for the Gemeinschaft Bank in Zürich.
Next to Schebek Palace, and built around the same time as it, number 9 is the former Buštěhradská dráhy headquarters, named after the railway company it was built for. It’s now the seat of the Czech Communist Party.
On the other side of Schebek Palace, Ringhoffer Palace has formerly been the headquarters of banks, but now hosts Kantýna, a popular restaurant.
Across the road, you can get a glimpse of what Prague’s main post office looks like from the other side.
And I can think of some people who will definitely not be happy if I fail to mention that number 13 in the street is the Prague branch of the British Council.
Finally, Ukrainophiles will find this plaque dedicated to Taras Shevchenko on the corner with Opletalova interesting.
There was a printing house here; in 1876, this is where the first uncensored edition of his 1840 collection of poems, Kobzar, was published. The publisher was Eduard Grégr, of the Young Czech party.
Alois Oliva was born in Kutná Hora in 1822, but went to school in Dresden, where he had relatives.
Going straight into employment after he finished school, he was, by the age of 20, a procurator. He then joined a sugar factory in Ruzyně, eventually becoming a partner. He founded his own sugar business in Prague in 1864.
Around the same time, Oliva became a member of Prague’s city council, supervising (and giving financial support to) a school on nearby Jindřišská. He also co-founded the Prague Stock Exchange.
He was elected to the Czech Land Assembly in 1865, and to the Imperial Council in Vienna in 1873, which he never attended until 1879 due to the Czech policy of passive resistance (and he resigned his post in 1880 anyway).
In 1890, he and his wife, Louisa, donated two of their properties on Na příkopě to the Municipality of Prague. The Municipality had to guarantee that any profits generated from the use of these buildings would be used to fund a home for disadvantaged children.
Girls were to be favoured (there were meant to be twice as many girls as boys), there would be a focus on practical education, and all teaching was to take place in Czech rather than German.
It was to be known as Dětský vychovací ústav Aloisa a Louisy Olivových (The Alois and Louisa Oliva Children’s Educational Institution), or, for short, Vychovatelna Olivových.
The City of Prague accepted the offer, and, to show its gratitude, renamed this street – where the Olivas owned two other properties (the street was previously called ’Sirotčí’ – Orphanage – because it included one).
Building started in 1892 in Říčany – shortly after Louisa’s death – and the facility was officially opened in 1896.
Oliva died in 1899, and is buried, along with his wife, at Olšany Cemetery.
In 1926, the facility was turned into a sanatorium for children from Prague. Since 1980, it’s been used as a treatment centre for children with upper respiratory tract diseases. It also deals with treatments for those who are overweight or obese: https://www.olivovna.cz/.
Jan Opletal was born on either 31 December 1914 or 1 January 1915 to a poor family in Lhota nad Moravou, near Olomouc. He was the youngest of eight children.
He had to work from a very early age to support his family, but also excelled at sports and was an outstanding athlete and gymnast at his local Sokol.
After graduating high school with top grades in all but one subject in 1934, he was unable to go to university for financial reasons, and joined the military.
Transferring to Prague, he took up courses at the Institut français and also started to learn English and Spanish. After completing his military service in 1936, he enrolled at Charles University’s Faculty of Medicine.
On 28 October 1939, the 21st anniversary of the founding of Czechoslovakia – and about seven months after the Nazi occupation of Bohemia and Moravia had begun – 100,000 demonstrators took to the streets of Prague. Opletal was one of them.
The crowd tried to proceed from Vodičkova to Karlovo náměstí, but, with the Nazi police appearing, they were forced to retreat onto Žitná. It was here that Opletal was shot in the stomach by an unknown assailant.
He died on 11 November, aged 24.
His funeral was held four days later, and became another massive demonstration against the Nazis.
On the night of 16-17 November, the Nazis responded by executing nine students, sending 1,200 students to a concentration camp, and closing the Czech universities entirely.
The names of those nine students don’t get said enough. They were Bedřich Koula (26), František Skorkovský (30), Jan Černý (24), Jan Weinert (24), Jaroslav Klíma (26), Josef Adamec (29), Josef Matoušek (33), Marek Frauwirth (28) and Václav Šaffránek (18).
Two years later in London, 17 November was declared as International Students’ Day, and still is.
And it was on 17 November 1989, sixty years after Opletal died, that Czech students would hold a demonstration which was brutally put down by riot police.
Within eleven days, the Communists’ monopoly on power in Czechoslovakia would be no more.
On the corner of Opletalova and Václavák, you have The Flow, which controversially replaced Dům U Turků and the premises of the former Pražská akciová tiskárna / Prague Stock Printing Company.
The Neo-Renaissance Daněk Palace, at number 19, used to host the Prognostic Institute of the Czechoslovak Academy of Sciences, but is now used by the Regional Directorate of the Municipal Police for Prague 1.
The Institute of Economic Studies of Charles University operates a bit further down, at number 26.
As does the Autoclub of the Czech Republic (number 45).
And there’s a student dorm at number 38 called Jednota; its location by the train station must be pretty incredible if you’re the sort of student who goes back to their home town every weekend so their mum can do their washing.
Finally, the views from Opletalova onto said train station don’t always look wonderful, but last Saturday they certainly did.
Originally published on X on 26 January 2024. George, not Denzel, Dinah or Poussey.
I could tell the George Washington story, but you might already know it quite well and/or feel it’s not got enough/any Czech connections (it won’t shock you to learn that GW never set foot in Bohemia).
So let’s go looking for world leaders and political figures who may not have been in charge in the Czech Republic or Czechoslovakia, but were/are of Czech origin.
Jerzy Buzek, Prime Minister of Poland from 1997 to 2001, was born in Smilovice in 1940, though he was, of course, part of the Polish community there. He was also President of the European Parliament from 2009 to 2012: https://www.europarl.europa.eu/meps/en/28269/JERZY_BUZEK/history/9
Karl Renner (1870-1950) held multiple roles in Austria, eventually becoming its first post-WW2 president in 1945. He was born to an ethnic German family in Unter Tannowitz (now Dolní Dunajovice), and went to secondary school in nearby Nikolsburg (now Mikulov).
Keeping with a theme, Adolf Schärf, President of Austria from 1957 until his death in 1965, was born in Mikulov in 1890, though his family had moved to Vienna by the end of the decade.
While Juscelino Kubitschek (1902-1976) was President of Brazil from 1956 to 1961, a period which included the founding of Brasília. His mother had Czech origins.
In Ireland, Ivana Bacik is the granddaughter of Karel Bačik, who moved to Ireland after WW2 after his glass factories were nationalised, and set up Waterford Glass there. Ivana has been leader of the Labour Party since March 2022: https://www.ivanabacik.com/.
And we can’t go without mentioning Marie Jana Körbelová, who also emigrated to North America in 1948, and eventually became US Secretary of State in 1997. You’re more likely to know her as Madeleine Albright.
Tangential bonus material: Americans with roots in Slovakia include Jon Bon Jovi, Dave Grohl, Jon Voight (and therefore Angelina Jolie), Paul Newman and Andy Warhol.
Further bonus material: the most noticeable building on Washingtonova is possibly the headquarters of the Celní úřad pro hlavní město Prahu / Customs Office for the Capital City of Prague, but the whole street has an air of grandeur to it (well, the car park doesn’t).
Using Google to find news stories about Washingtonova is an absolute waste of time, as it lists not only every story relating to Washington D.C., but also everything Czech that’s ever been mentioned in the Washington Post.
Originally published on X on 24 and 25 January 2024 (it’s a two-partner).
Václav (Wenceslas, as in ‘Good King’) was born around 907, the son of Vratislav (Wrocław-founding) and Drahomíra (pagan; murderous), and the granddaughter of Ludmila (Christian; victim of said murderousness; later saintly) and Bořivoj (the first verifiable Czech leader).
He became Prince of Bohemia while still in his teens, around 925. His reign had the typical features of the time, i.e. rivalry with Saxony which ended up with Václav promising to pay tribute to avoid Bohemia being raided (again).
He also decided to strengthen the Bohemian state, and the role that Christianity played within it. He therefore founded St Vitus Church at Prague Castle, predecessor of maybe the best-known building in the country.
It’s accepted that this happened on 28 September – now also Czech Statehood Day – but we don’t know if it happened in 929 or 935.
In any case, by the end of the century, Václav had been beatified and was henceforth regarded as a key fighter for the national cause.
Now onto the square.
As mentioned in every other post of late, Charles IV founded Prague’s New Town in 1348. A new town requires a new market, and one of the main ones was set up here, on what became known as the Koňský trh (Horse Market).
It’s hard to imagine now, but, even 400 years later, the market still looked like it belonged in the countryside – and, for a time, there was even a stream (the Vinohrady stream) flowing through it.
It was actually placed right in the middle of the square – where Vodičkova and Jindřišská are now – before being moved, in 1827, to where we now see Hotel Europa.
Also in the ‘hard to imagine now’ category, it was only around this time that the square was introduced to paving and streetlights. Trams started running along the square in 1884 (and ran until 1980).
Bendl’s statue got moved to Vyšehrad in 1879 – it’s still there – while a new statue by Josef Václav Myslbek was unveiled in 1913, but not completed until 1925.
You’ll recognise it.
You might just think the square is for tourists and anybody who is really into Popeye’s or Primark – but it has, of course, played a key role in many important moments in the country’s history.
On 28 October 1918, Isidor Zahradník declared an independent Czechoslovakia in front of a huge crowd.
During the Nazi occupation, the occupying powers (not the first noun that I wanted to write) used the square for their own demonstrations.
And, in 1968, Soviet troops fired on the National Museum because they thought it was the headquarters of Czech Radio.
Am I allowed to say ‘twats’? Twats.
A few months later, this would be where Jan Palach set himself on fire in protest against post-Prague Spring demoralisation. Here are some pics I took during the commemorations of that event in 2019.
And many of us who aren’t Czech will have first seen Wenceslas Square in 1989, when it was the backdrop for the Velvet Revolution:
All the imperfections since, and I *still* get goosebumps watching this.
Václavák, as the locals call it, is constantly under reconstruction – the lower part is way more pleasant than it was a decade ago – and trams are due to make a comeback by the end of the decade.
For some reason, my oldest memory of Prague concerns a Reader’s Digest book my parents once had, and which I was obsessed with as a child.
The Guide to Places of the World included a two-page spread about Czechoslovakia – it was published in the 1980s, after all – with a photo of a rather foggy-looking Václavák, with trams going down it.
I have no idea why that picture stuck with me as strongly as it did – and I certainly wouldn’t go so far as to say that photo is ultimately the reason why I’m here – but it does make me particularly excited about the moment when the trams make a return.
There’s a lot of see on Václavák, although you may have to look up rather than directly in front of yourself to see the interesting, not-for-sale-not-aimed-at-tourists stuff. Join me.
Number 47 is a particularly recent addition – the Flow Building (designed by the Chapman Taylor architectural studio, and completed in 2020), mainly known for making you realise Primark is extremely popular here.
It replaced the Neo-Renaissance Dům U Turků, built in 1880 and demolished in 2017. The decision was met with controversy, unsurprisingly, including a Facebook page which unsuccessfully campaigned for the decision to be reversed: https://t.co/gGvvxrRuL3
Next door at number 45 is the socialist realist Hotel Jalta (1958). There’s an anti-nuclear shelter in the basement, which is now a museum about the Cold War (do go – it’s fascinating and the guides are great).
Number 41 is Luxor Palace; since 2002, it’s been the home of the Luxor bookshop, and I really hope I never find out how much money I’ve spent here in the last seventeen years.
Nearby is the building in whose courtyard Jan Zajíc, a 18-year-old student, killed himself by self-immolation on 25 February 1969, little over a month after Jan Palach had died.
At number 25, Hotel Evropa was built in 1872, based on a design by Josef Schulz. It’s currently undergoing renovation, and you may have seen its interior during Mission: Impossible.
The exterior is pretty stunning too.
At number 19 is Palác Generali, built in 1895 and named after Assicurazioni Generali, an Italian insurance company. A local guy called Franz Kafka worked here from 1907 to 1908.
Another Art Deco hotel is at number 7 – Hotel Zlatá Husa (built in 1909 & 1910). It’s connected to number 5, Hotel Ambassador (built in 1922, and originally a department store).
On the corner, Palác Koruna (opened in 1914) hosted Prague’s first self-service restaurant, Automat Koruna, until 1992. It also hosted Prague’s answer to HMV or Virgin, Bontonland, which I visited with 24 hours of first arriving in Prague in 2005 and miss enormously.
Crossing over (or, let’s be fair, turning around – the square is 65 metres wide and there are no cars in this part), Palác Euro was added in 2002 and looks like it.
It’s next to the Lindt department store building, which, in the 1920s, had the square’s first glass facade. It also hosted Prague’s first ‘western-style’ bookshop (1998 to 2011), and yes, I miss that too.
Number 6, built in 1929, is the Baťa Shoe House – named after one of the most famous Czech brands, if not the most famous. They still operate a store in there.
These glass buildings are quite a contrast to the most historical-looking Adam’s Pharmacy / Adamova lékárna, built between 1911 and 1912, and Peterkův dům, opened in 1899 and named after a banker called Peterka who had an apartment here.
Since 1996, number 14 has hosted Dobrá čajovna, a tea-house so successful that it has branches not only in Slovakia, Poland and Hungary, but also in the United States.
Palác U Stýblů (1928-9) used to be the home of the Semafor Theatre until it moved to Dejvice, as well as of Kino Alfa, a Prague institution that, sadly, hasn’t shown any films since 1994.
The Česká Banka Palace (built between 1913 & 1916) is the home of the Světozor Cinema, and was designed by Osvald Polívka, who was also responsible for the Assicurazioni Generali building right across the road, as well as, in part, Obecní dům and the New Town Hall on Karlák.
Right across from there is Wiehlův dům – home of the (excellent) Academia bookshop and publishing house. It has the best shop windows in Prague (example from the 30th anniversary of the Velvet Revolution).
Next door, we Brits may know Palác Hvězda (1913) best for hosting M&S – but watch any clips from the Velvet Revolution in 1989, and this is the balcony people are most probably giving speeches from.
And neighbouring Palác Rokoko (1913-6) has been the home of the eponymous theatre ever since it opened.
Up from here, you’ve got buildings owned/used by the State Agricultural Intervention Fund and Komerční Banka respectively. The latter has (had?) a paternoster which TERRIFIED me when I taught English in there for a time in 2007.
Palác Fénix (1927-30) was mentioned in a recent thread, while Dům módy (1954-6) hosted what was possibly the most glamorous, up-market department store in Czechoslovakia. Things change.
This thread is too long, and yet, when I went through it just now to see if anything could be eliminated, I not only failed to delete anything but also started worrying about all the things that I’d left out. And that is Prague in a nutshell, really.
Between 1348 and 1350, Charles IV arranged for the construction of Gothic-style walls all around the (then brand) New Town.
Like pretty much every settlement in Bohemia, the New Town had an incredibly rough time of it during the Thirty Years’ War (1618-48). Therefore, new, improved fortifications were needed, and these were constructed, in Baroque style, from 1654 to 1721.
here were five gates through which one could enter / exit the New Town (in Czech, a ‘gate’ is a brána, coming from the Proto-Slavic borna, a ‘guarded entrance’ – also giving us the verb bránit, to defend or protect).
Another was the Koňská brána / Horse Gate, which was at the top of the Koňský trh / Horse Market, nowadays known as Václavské náměstí, and led to Říčanská silnice, now known as Vinohradská.
It got a revamp from 1831 to 1836, but was demolished in 1875/6 (as was the Rye Gate), and was replaced by a small, low-key building more widely known as the National Museum. Here it is with some idiot whose 40th birthday it was on that day standing near it.
You can see the gate at the end of Václavák in this photo.
Whereas this drawing of the gate was published in 1874, shortly before there would be no gate at all.
It seems the picture was pretty accurate.
And, as for the name of the street? Mezibranská means ‘between the gates’ (i.e. these two).
You know where Kraków is. Like me, you may also be wondering when people stopped spelling it ‘Cracow’ in English (full disclosure: I was never a fan of that spelling).
Kraków is named after Krakus, the alleged founder of the city (and its castle, Wawel), who apparently defeated a dragon living at the foot of Wawel Hill by feeding it fake sheep filled with stones.
Back when the Prague’s New Town, where this street is located, was founded in 1348, Wawel was where Polish kings were crowned, and the king of Poland was Casimir III the Great / Kazimierz III Wielki, founder of what is now known as the Jagiellonian University – Poland’s oldest.
He also had a new district of Kraków named after him – Kazimierz. This was the centre of Jewish life in Kraków, and, if you’ve been to the city as a tourist, it’s likely that you spent a good portion of your time there.
Anyway, when Charles IV founded Prague’s New Town, he arranged for merchants to move over from Kraków, and they settled round here, hence the street name.
Kraków is somewhere I only ever seem to go when I have a lot of work to do, so my pics over the years are limited, but here are some, including a mildly amusing instruction on how to close the door in your hotel room from 2014.
A smečka is a pack (e.g. of dogs or wolves), or a pride (of lions). It originally meant ‘loop’ or ‘dog-collar’, before being attributed to a whole group of animals rather than simply to one animal’s neck.
This could be the reason for the street’s name, but apparently there’s another theory.
The street was first mentioned as ‘Smekhacz’ in 1399, possibly a derivation of ‘smek hače’ (he took off his trousers).
This doesn’t seem inappropriate given the number of, erm… ‘clubs’ on this street, and suggests things haven’t changed that much over the centuries.
From 1880 to 1881, number 13 was lived in by a certain Nikola Tesla. He’d come to Prague to study, but was disadvantaged by not knowing either Ancient Greek or Czech. He went to some lectures, but moved to Budapest in 1881 to take up work at the Telephone Exchange.
Next door, at number 15, is the K. E. Macan Library and Printing House for the Blind, currently with over 5,000 registered users.
At number 26, the Činoherní klub was founded in 1965.
On 19 November 1989, the Civic Forum was founded here.
There’s some incredible footage of this even here, and the home-camera nature of it makes it all the more fascinating:
Until 1948, the building had been the headquarters of the Czech Women’s Club. Fittingly, it was built by Milada Petříková-Pavlíková, the first woman in Czechoslovakia to graduate as an architect (in 1921).
In 1959, the first performance by the Divadlo Semafor – specifically the opening performance of Člověk z půdy (Man from the Attic) – took place here:
Finally, near the corner with Václavák is one of the entrances to Palác Fénix, opened in 1930. It includes the Studio Eva Theatre, whose simple but effective posters are a feature of pretty much every tram journey I take in Prague.
Příčný is a great word if your thing is vocabulary you’re not likely to have to use much unless it comes up in your job: a příčná flétna is a cross flute, a příčný práh is a sleeping policeman (pictured), and a příčný sval břišní is a transverse abdominal muscle.
The name has been in place since the 1400s; before then, the street was called Proti věži (Against the Tower) or Věžní (Tower). Take a look at the New Town Hall from Řeznická and you’ll see why.
This is a short one today, but, let’s be fair, it was due.
And the prize for ‘most numerous and least helpful Google results for a Prague street name’ goes to…
Josef Matěj Navrátil was born in Slaný in 1798, but lived in Prague from 1801. As a child, his father taught him how to paint rooms.
So logically, after graduating from the Prague Academy in 1823, he became a painter-decorator, mainly working in stately homes and castles.
From 1832, he travelled extensively around Europe (with a particular fondness for the Alps), and developed his skills as a landscape painter.
(Pictured: ‘Forest landscape with a girl’, ‘Waterfall on the Mumlava River’, ‘Mountain landscape with lake’ and ‘Landscape with ruins)
He was also known for his still life paintings and his works depicting people (examples of both below).
In 1850, Navrátil became chairman of the Union of Fine Artists, but later life didn’t treat him kindly: his son Antonín (also a painter) died in 1859, and two years later he suffered a stroke and was unable to work again. He died in poverty in 1865.
Navrátil’s works fell into oblivion until 1909, when an exhibition was dedicated to him at the Rudolfinum. A particularly big fan was the photographer Josef Sudek, whose own work was inspired by him.
In the 1500s, various names were used – Velká Řeznická, Masná and Řeznická, because of the number of butchers round here (a butcher is a řezník). The last of these names, Řeznická, was used until 1869 (and is still the name of a neighbouring street).
You might think that the name ‘Školská’ is because of a specific school in the street. Actually, the whole street is quite educational (though, as you’ll see, one of the schools appeared after the street was renamed).
The former New Town General School has now got an incredibly catchy name: Vyšší odborná škola ekonomických studií, Gymnázium, Střední průmyslová škola potravinářských technologií a Střední odborná škola přírodovědná a veterinární, Praha 2, Podskalská: https://podskalska.cz.
AKA the VOŠ, G, SPŠ a SOŠ Podskalská; if you’re more into English, it’s the Podskalská Higher Vocational School of Economic Studies, Gymnasium, Secondary Vocational School of Food Technologies and Secondary Vocational School of Natural Sciences and Veterinary Science.
The State Language School (founded 1920) also has quite the full name – Jazyková škola s právem státní jazykové zkoušky hlavního města Prahy (Language School with the Right to State Language Examination of the Capital City of Prague) – but looks like my idea of school heaven.
Cross this street (which will take no time at all, it’s very narrow), and you’ve got the family home – and birthplace – of Jaroslav Hašek.
As well as one of Prague 1’s two branches of the city library, and the Leica Gallery, which has a range of interesting events on in any given year: https://lgp.cz
A jáma is a pit, a hole, or a hollow; a synonym for this is a prohlubeň. And, expectedly, pits/hollows are what the terrain round here once consisted of.
The hollows round here had water in them, and, in the early days of the New Town, were used by the various traders who worked round here (and who we’ve spoken about a fair bit lately) as a rubbish dump.
The street has been named after Jan Vodička since about 1450. We don’t know much about him, other than that he lived in the 15th century, was a butcher, and owned property here.
But, as you’ve probably noticed (and, as Vodičkova is a key tram thoroughfare, you may find yourself on it quite frequently), there are plenty of other factoids to keep us occupied.
I find footage of things like openings of first-ever McDonald’s quite hypnotic, especially when these things took place in my youth, so here’s a whole 40 minutes of the stuff:
Number 22, formerly the Girls’ High School in Prague – the first school of its kind in Bohemia – is now an elementary school, and, no matter how many times I go past it on the tram, it blows my mind that a school can look this incredible.
This building actually marks the spot on which the building owned by Mr Vodička stood. It’s not as hi-tech as modern shopping centres but makes for significantly better photos.
Across the road, Myšák Gallery is much more recent – 2007 – and is named after the well-known pastry shop, founded by one František Myšák. The Museum of Fantastic Illusions opened in the Gallery in 2019.
One of the less glamorous buildings on the street – number 34 – is the headquarters of the Czech Export Bank.
But next door is the somewhat more spectacular Lucerna, initially realised by Vácslav Havel, grandfather of Václav without an S. It’s now owned by his sister-in-law, Dagmar Havlová (as opposed to his widow, also called Dagmar Havlová).
You may know its concerts, its cinema, its paternoster, and its ‘David Černý gonna David Černý’ statue.
Just across, at number 37, Palác Langhans was bought in 1882 by Jan Nepomuk Langhans, founder of the eponymous photo company. Which explains why I’ve been here to get passport photos before.
Number 41 is Kino Světozor, opened in the same-named arcade in 1918, and the ultimate ‘I never come here but should come here, like, all the time’ location.
Excellent stained-glass in the arcade too (Tesla once lived round here – more on that story soon).
Finally, the Neo-renaissance Wiehlův dům (Wiehl House) is on the corner with Wenceslas Square. More on this one when we get to Václavák in about nine days (if this site has a limit to the number of posts a thread can have, that might be the day on which I find out).
Prague, though, seriously. I’m never going complain about the number 9 not having arrived yet ever again.
Lucerna update, June 2024: Dagmar Havlová, sister-in-law of Václav Havel, sold her majority stake (but maintaining a 25% one), stating that money from the sale would be used to renovate the building.
The street was first mentioned in 1383, under the name of Tandléřská – a tandléř, derived from southern German, being a dealer in used clothes and shoes.
In the 15th century, it became known as Nová Pasířská (more on that tomorrow, when we get to the street that used to be known as Stará Pasířská). In the 16th century, the ‘Nová’ was dropped.
The current name has been in place since 1876, i.e. pretty much automatically after Palacký’s death (except for a brief reversion to Pasířská during the Nazi occupation).
Back on number 7: it’s got the not terribly Czech-looking name of MacNeven Palace. The owner, Wilhelm Mac Neven O’Kelly ab Aghrim, had been born in Baile na hAbhann in County Galway in 1714.
He became a doctor and moved to Prague, where he wrote several books and lectured at the university. He stayed in Prague until his death in 1787.
In 1827, Palacky’s fiancee, Terezie Měchurová, gave him the palace (owned by her parents up to that point) as a dowry.
But Palacký wasn’t the only famous Czech to live and die here – in 1853, František Ladislav Rieger married Palacký’s daughter, Marie. He would live in the building, ultimately dying in it in 1903.
This is a picture from 1848 of mother and daughter (Terezie and Marie).
On the other hand, the square itself deserves some attention.
In 1347, one year after the founding of the New Town, Charles IV founded the Church of Our Lady of the Snows / Kostel Panny Marie Sněžné, as well as the associated monastery.
Regarding that name: legend has it that a Roman patrician called John vowed, with his wife, to donate their possessions to the Virgin Mary, but prayed that she’d give them a sign when it was time to do so.
One night in August, they had a vision of the Virgin, and, later that night, snow fell on the Esquilino, one of the seven hills of Rome. Which was, apparently, the sign that had been requested.
Which may not sound particularly exceptional, except that this walk to the New Town would ultimately result in the First Prague Defenestration and the Hussite Wars.
In 1606, the church and monastery started to be used by the Discalced Franciscan order. In 1611, a fanatical mob attacked the monastery and killed fourteen monks.
In 2012, they were beatified as the Fourteen Prague Martyrs.
This courtyard within the church is dedicated to them, complete with a street sign which will have me lying in bed at 01:00 tonight wondering if it was wrong of me not to write this part as a separate thread.
Here’s how the church looked in 1930.
The church has also had its own gardens since 1347 (now called Františkánská zahrada). Here they are a couple of weeks ago, probably at their least floral (and at their most ‘hurry up, this is closing early today’).
One of the monastery buildings now hosts the Austrian Cultural Forum (Österreichisches Kulturforum Prag), in front of which there’s a statue of (the non-Austrian but definitely cultural) Josef Jungmann.
And those of us who are still a bit upset about the demise of Bontonland on Václavák can do some music shopping on Jungmannovo instead.
Finally, the square also includes the famed U Pinkasů restaurant, which Václav Havel, Václav Klaus and Miloš Forman all visited more than once (probably not at the same table). In 1843, it became the first place in Prague to have Plzeňský Prazdroj on tap.
There are some great old pictures from the restaurant on Wikipedia (credited to one ‘Titl’).
Josef Jungmann was born in Hudlice, near Beroun, in 1773. His family wanted him to make a career in the church, and sent him to attend the local Piarist school.
However, he transferred to a grammar school on Panská in Prague’s New Town, graduating in 1792 and then studying philosophy at Prague University.
In Litoměřice, he taught Czech at the gymnasium (grammar school) – a fact which becomes more interesting when you consider he was the first Czech language teacher at a gymnasium in Bohemia. Ever.
While living in Litoměřice, Jungmann met one Johanna Světecká z Černčic, from a noble family, and, interestingly, born in Vršac (now in Serbia). They married in 1800 and agreed to bring their children up to speak Czech (Johanna’s family was German-speaking).
In 1821, Jungmann founded the first Czech scientific journal, Krok (Step) and formed a group of patriotic intellectuals around him, including František Palacký, Jan Evangelista Purkyně, František Ladislav Čelakovský – all of whom have featured in these threads before.
From 1835 to 1839, Jungmann published the five-volume Slownjk česko-německý Josefa Jungmanna (Josef Jungmann’s Czech-German Dictionary).
It sets out the basis for the vocabulary of modern Czech, including archaic words and borrowings from other Slavic languages.
Jungmann also aimed to create the first Czech encyclopaedia, but this never materialised. On the other hand, he was knighted for his work on the dictionary (and the language as a whole) in 1839.
Jungmann died in 1847 and is buried in Olšany Cemetery, as is Johanna, who died in 1855. In 1878, meanwhile, Široká was renamed Jungmannova – a street which merits a few more posts (and pictures). Read on.
Husův dům / The Hus House (number 9) has existed since the Middle Ages, but was given a cubist makeover in the 1920s. It hosts the Synod Council of the Evangelical Church of the Czech Brethren.
It also houses the renowned Kalich Theater, opened in 1999.
Number 17 used to host the Měšťanská beseda, a Czech-speaking cultural association co-founded by Jungmann in 1845, shortly before his death.
The Škoda Palace was built in 1929 in order to house factories of, yes, Škoda. From 1994 to 2004, it was used by the ČEZ Energy Group; it’s currently the site of Prague’s Town Hall.
Walk on a bit, and you’ve got another excuse to take even more photos of Palác Adria. As well as the entrance to the Divadlo bez zábradlí.
Across the road at number 30, the Mozarteum and its concert hall were never visited by Mozart – what with having been built in 1913 – and used to host a leftist theatre (D 33), as well as, in the 1970s, one of Supraphon’s recording studios.
At number 24, Evropský dům / European House, is, yes, where you would go to get information about the EU and its institutions.
Whereas one of the two Hlávka foundation houses (Hlávkovy nadační domy) takes up numbers 10, 12 and 14. It was here, during the later stages of WW1, that politician Přemysl Šámal and his collaborators organised resistance against Austria-Hungary.
And number 6 stands out precisely because of how much smaller it is than its neighbours.
Finally, number 1 is the Comedy Theatre / Divadlo Komedie, run by the legendary Vlasta Burian in the 1930s and 1940s. Its functionalist building was built in 1930 (yes, I forgot to take a photo, so here’s a nice one (credit to Andreas Praefcke): https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Praha_Divadlo_Komedie.jpg
Magdalena Artmann was born at the castle in Všeradice, near Beroun, in 1785. After the premature deaths of her father and siblings, she moved to Plzeň with her mother.
Until she was 18, Magdalena only spoke German, but then she fell in love with a law graduate – and Czech patriot – called Jan Alois Rettig. They married in 1808.
Rettig, who worked as a councillor in several Czech towns, recognised his wife’s talents as a writer, encouraged her to keep writing, and even hired experts to give her advice and tips. Which counts as pretty enlightened for the 1810s.
Magdaléna was particularly interested in providing an education to girls; she wrote short stories aimed at teenage girls, and also gave them classes in economics, cooking, housework and Czech literature.
Her most famous work was 1826’s Domácí kuchařka (Home Cookbook). Featuring over 700 recipes, it was innovative in that it was written in Czech, used clear language, and didn’t assume that the reader had infinite time or infinite money with which to buy ingredients.
It also had the outstanding subtitle of Pojednání o masitých a postních pokrmech pro dcerky České a Moravské (Treatise on Meaty and Fasting Dishes for the Daughters of Bohemia and Moravia).
As well as her writing, Rettigová ran a social salon, was in charge of the library in Ústí nad Orlicí when she and her husband lived there, and, when they moved to Litoměřice, was active in promoting renovation and construction projects.
It was in Litoměřice that Jan died in either 1842 or 1844; Magdaléna would follow him in 1845. She’s buried in the cemetery there.
Magdalény Rettigové is not a long street – and half of it is only accessible if somebody opens the gate for you.
Beyond that gate is the Faculty of Education of Charles University. Appropriately, it was formerly a school for girls.
There’s also the Church of the Holy Trinity (Kostel Nejsvětější Trojice; tower from 1713). In 2005, it was handed over to the Slovak Greek Catholic Church (which may sound obscure, but has 350,000 followers in Slovakia alone).
I also never realised there was barrier-free access to Národní Třída metro station here (partially because, in my head, this is fairly far away from the main entrance, even if it isn’t in reality).
Vladislav/Władysław/Vladislaus/Ulászló was born in 1456, as the eldest son of Casimir IV Jagiellon, Grand Duke of Lithuania and King of Poland. His mother was Elizabeth of Austria, granddaughter of Sigismund, Holy Roman Emperor (and King of Bohemia from 1419 to 1437).
Elizabeth’s brother, Ladislaus the Posthumous (Ladislav Posmrtni), had become King of Bohemia in 1453, but would die in 1457, aged just 17. The cause of death was probably leukaemia.
Hence Vladislav being chosen as King by the Bohemian Diet when George died in 1471. However, the Catholic States Bohemia had also elected Matthias Corvinus (Matyáš Korvín) as King two years earlier.
They made peace in 1478, when it was agreed that Vladislav would get Bohemia, while Matyáš would be in charge in Moravia, Lusatia and Silesia, all of which Vladislav would get to be in charge of if Matyáš were to die prematurely.
In 1483, the Hussites, worried about Vladislav’s concessions to the Catholics (who were making plans to get all their powers back), launched an uprising in Prague. Defenestrations were involved, because of course they were.
Eventually, in 1485, the Hussites and the Catholics met at Kutná Hora and declared their churches to be equal, making Bohemia the first country in Europe to legally guarantee religious tolerance (for these two confessions, at least). Take that, Nantes.
In 1490, that peace made twelve years earlier proved quite advantageous to Vladislav – Matyáš did indeed die, and Vladislav became King of Hungary, which he celebrated by moving to Buda. He would only pop back to Prague twice after this.
Which you would probably do too if you wanted to avoid the Hussite-Catholic bickering that took up much of the rest of his reign over Bohemia (not described in detail here because it’ll surely appear in another thread one day).
Vladislav died in 1516, and was succeeded by his son Ludvík, who would be the last of the Jagiellon Kings of Bohemia (and who would show even less interest in Bohemia than his dad did, visiting once in his ten-year reign).
Number 13, built in the late 1930s for the Czech Mutual Life Insurance Company, is quite impressive.
Jan Evangelista Purkyně was born on the noble estate at Libochovice (near Litoměřice) in 1787.
He joined the Piarists as a monk in 1804, but quit at the age of twenty and became a tutor to a noble family before studying medicine at Prague University from 1813 onwards. He graduated in 1818 and became an assistant there.
However, his desire to become a professor was thwarted by his pro-Czech sentiments, and he got hired in Wrocław (then in Prussia and known as Breslau) instead. This was partially thanks to the recommendation of the naturalist Karl Asmund Rudolphi.
Purkyně would marry Rudolphi’s daughter, Julia, in 1827; they had four children, but Julia and the two daughters would die of cholera while in Wrocław.
In 1837, Purkyně discovered Purkinje cells (output neurons of the cerebellar cortex, i.e. in the lower part of brain, which play pivotal roles in coordination, control, and learning of movements).
(Drawing by Santiago Ramón y Cajal, Madrid, 1899)
In 1839, he discovered Purkinje fibres, which are located in the inner ventricular walls of the heart. They’re composed of electrically excitable cells and are essential for maintaining a consistent heart rhythm.
He also discovered Purkinje images, which are images formed by the reflection of light in the structure of the eye.
Purkyně was also one of the few scientists in the region at the time to accept Darwin’s theory of evolution.
Returning to Prague University in 1850, Purkyně founded a physiological institute there, but devoted more and more of his time to pro-Czech activities: for instance, he founded the magazine Živa, and took part in the founding of the Sokols (https://whatsinapraguestreetname.com/2024/08/26/prague-2-day-114-sokolska/).
He also sat in the Bohemian Diet, where, as a member of the Young Czechs, he campaigned for the university to also offer classes in Czech.
Purkyně was granted the Knight’s Cross of the Order of Leopold by Francis Joseph I in 1868; this was elevated to a knighthood in July 1869, but Purkyně died later in the same month. He died on Spálená (https://whatsinapraguestreetname.com/2024/09/01/prague-2-day-163-spalena/), where he had also lived.
Other things named after Purkyně include the Jan Evangelista University in Ústí nad Labem (https://ujep.cz/en/) and Asteroid 3701 Purkyně, discovered by Czech astronomer Antonín Mrkos in 1985, as well as one of the Moon’s craters.
What's in a Prague street name 
