So I guess anyone who felt I only mentioned the Klementinum very briefly yesterday will feel better now.
The name comes from the Church of St Kliment, which the Dominicans moved into in 1227, when they also created a monastery.
The monastery was severely damaged by fire at the start of the Hussite Wars in 1420.
It wasn’t until over a hundred years later – when Emperor Ferdinand I asked the Jesuit order to come to Bohemia – that the building’s decline was reversed. He let the Jesuits move in here (pretty incredible location) in 1556, and they turned the monastery into a college.
As did the Chapel of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary from 1590 to 1597 (same link as above).
The Jesuits would continue to purchase local houses and land, and also continued to rebuild and renovate (with an unavoidable pause due to the Thirty Years’ War).
So successful was their college, that, in 1616, it was granted university status, and became an even bigger rival to the decidedly non-Catholic Charles University than it had been before.
The Jesuits were expelled from Bohemia in 1618, but were unsurprisingly invited back after Bílá Hora in 1620. In 1622, they were asked to take over the administration of Charles University, and Charles University’s library was moved into the Klementinum.
The two institutions would be merged entirely in 1654.
The complex also featured a printing house (more on that in about two weeks), a pharmacy and an observatory.
From 1709 to 1726, the Klementinum got a High Baroque makeover, including expansions to the college, a new church for St Kliment, and the astronomical tower.
In 1773, however, the Jesuits were abolished by the Holy See.
The university was secularised and, in 1775, an archbishop’s seminary moved in (we got there eventually), staying until 1929.
The street name would follow shortly after.
In 1777, Maria Theresa declared the university library to be a public one. Since 1990, it’s been the National Library.
Again, quite a few untold stories in this one (not least about Charles University / the library), but quite likely to turn up in other posts soon enough.
Charles/Karel/Karl was born in 1316, as the son of John of Bohemia and his wife Elizabeth.
Because these family trees aren’t confusing enough, his birth name was actually Václav, but he chose the name Charles at his confirmation.
In 1323, his father sent him to France, where he got an excellent, multilingual education.
His father also arranged for him to marry Blanche de Valois, a cousin of Charles IV of France (as opposed to Charles IV of Bohemia. This isn’t getting easier).
Having gained experience of battle at his father’s side in 1331, Karel was persuaded to move back to Bohemia, as his father was away a lot and was also losing his eyesight.
He returned in 1333 (here he is being welcomed at Újezd) and was named Margrave of Moravia.
Charles would soon prove to be a more energetic, authoritative and popular leader than his father, which is presumably what no father ever wants to hear.
Support from Pope Clement IV – a former teacher and confidant – enabled the promotion of Prague from bishopric to archbishopric in 1344.
But the Pope’s support would come in even more handily in 1346, when Clement supported Charles’ election as King of the Romans (and of Germany), replacing Louis IV (the Bavarian), who Clement seriously disliked.
Later that year, John would die at the Battle of Crécy, and Charles also became King of Bohemia, a role he’d kind of being playing for the last thirteen years anyway. He’d also become Holy Roman Emperor in 1355.
Charles made Prague his home, and really worked on turning it into the centre of the empire. Without him, we wouldn’t have the New Town, Charles Bridge, Charles University (the region’s first), and much more besides.
Beyond Prague, Charles was also successful in increasing the size of the Bohemian crown lands, annexing Upper Lusatia, Lower Lusatia, and, ultimately, Brandenburg.
However, this would be accompanied by family upsets – his first wife, Blanche de Valois, died in 1348. His second wife, Anne of Bavaria, died in 1353, and his third, Anna von Schweidnitz, in 1362.
His fourth wife, Elizabeth of Pomerania, would outlive him.
While his relations with the nobility were generally good, his attempts to codify Bohemian Law (in the Maiestas Carolina, written in 1350) were met with resistance, and by 1355 he’d given up on them.
A year later, however, his Golden Bull, which set much of the constitutional structure of the Holy Roman Empire, including the system for election of its rulers, was adopted successfully.
Charles would also find time to write an autobiography, Vita Caroli, as well as other works.
He died in 1378 and was buried in Prague. In 2005, he was voted the greatest Czech ever in one of those shows that every country seemed to have around that time.
He’s on here too.
This leaves a lot out, obviously, but I get the feeling that a lot of the left out stuff will be used in future threads.
But we’re not done yet, because this street has major footfall (it was on the Royal Route back when there were royals, and is an inescapable part of the tourist route now that there are tourists).
Starting by Charles Bridge, the Church of the Most Holy Salvator was the Jesuits’ seat in Prague when they were a thing.
And then there’s St. Clement’s Cathedral, the cathedral of the Apostolic Exarchate of the Greek Catholic Church in the Czech Republic. (Note: while writing this, I developed mild nerves that this might be the wrong building, but I’m posting it anyway)
All of these form part of the Klementinum, the largest complex of buildings in Prague after the Castle. It used to be a Jesuit college (1622-1773), and is now administered by the National Library of the Czech Republic.
Non-Klementinum highlights of Karlova include U Zlatá studně (The Golden Well), now a hotel. On its façade, you can see Saint Wenceslas and John of Nepomuck, as well as two plague patrons and, on the top floor, Jesuit patrons.
At the turn of the 1700s, the owners added these decorations to show their gratitude for surviving a plague epidemic.
While, in 1714, U Zlatého hada (The Golden Snake) was apparently the location of Prague’s first cafe. A few more have opened since.
Colloredo-Mansfeld Palace is where, in 1620, the royal council of Frederick V of the Palatinate met for the last time after the Bohemian army’s beyond-disastrous showing at the Battle of Bílá Hora.
While Pöttingovský palác is currently home to Divadlo Ta Fantastika, a repertory theatre owned by Lucie Bílá (stop press: she’s gone and named it after herself now).
‘Malé náměstí’ translates as ’Small square’ (and the map above is another excellent reminder that we might translate náměstí as ‘square’, but it doesn’t necessarily need to be shaped like one.
Anyway, let’s take a look around (a pleasingly colourful look around at that).
Number 1, U anděla (The Angel), was once the pharmacy owned by Angelius de Florentia, Charles IV’s botanist; in the 18th century, it was owned by Ericsson. It now hosts the North Carolina State University European Center in Prague and the Polish Institute.
Number 2, U Bílého lva (The White Lion), was the site of Prague’s oldest printing house (in 1487), where the first Czech Bible was printed.
(Side note: this is clearly a later, Baroque modification, and the same goes for most buildings on this square)
Number 3, Rottův dům, is named after the Rott family, who ran a hardware store here until 1948, when they fled Czechoslovakia (although the shop survived until 1989).
Full disclosure: I once wound up at the Hard Rock Cafe for some event in 2017. There was a Roxette tribute band playing that evening. I f**king love Prague.
Number 5 – which is where the street sign pic comes from – is called U Tří kominíčků (The Three Chimneys). It’s impressively narrow.
This whole set is delightful, actually.
Number 10, U Zlatého rohu (The Golden Corner), is used by various NGOs, including the Scout Institute.
And, again, I’m going to have to post a few more houses on the square, because, even if I don’t have anecdotes about them, just look how freaking pretty they are, as is the fountain in the middle of the square.
Jiřík Černý was born around 1511 in Rožďalovice, near Nymburk, but there are no written mentions of him until 1534, when he gained a bachelor’s degree from the Faculty of Arts at Charles University.
At some point (the years after his graduation aren’t well documented either), he changed his name to Jiří Melantrich (which is Greek for ‘black-haired’).
His name does appear in 1545, when he published a book in Prostějov (Doktora Urbana Rhegia rozmlouvání s Annou, manželkou svou / ‘Dr. Urban Rhegius conversing with Anna, his wife’).
Melantrich moved back to Prague a year or two later, bringing some of his printing materials with him. In 1547, however, Ferdinand I (pictured) banned the printing of non-Catholic books due to the Estates Revolt in the same year.
Melantrich got around this by joining a company owned by Bartoloměj Netolický, a Catholic. His most famous publication would be the Melantrich Bible, or the Melantriška for short, first published in 1549.
He would publish another 17 titles before buying Netolický’s share of the business in 1552 and essentially becoming a sole trader.
In 1557, Melantrich was awarded a coat of arms and became known as Jiří Melantrich of Aventino; in 1558, he became an alderman of Prague’s Old Town.
Key publications in the 1560s included Epistolarum Medicinalium libri quinque (Five Books of Medical Letters), containing medical letters written to patients by Pietro Andrea Mattioli, the Prague-based physician to King Ferdinand.
As well as Mattioliho herbář, a Czech translation of Mattioni’s Discorsi (full title probably too long to fit into three posts, let alone one), his analysis of 100 recently-discovered plants, and a key work in the field of botany.
He also published something with the excellent name of Knížka v českém a německém jazyku složená, kterak by Čech německy a Němec česky … učiti se měl – ‘A combined book in Czech and German, how a Czech should learn German and a German should learn Czech’ – in 1567.
A new edition of the Bible, with new woodcuts, came out in 1570; interestingly (and unsurprisingly, given increased religions tensions at the time), it came under scrutiny from the Austrian censors despite its text being identical to the previous edition.
That picture includes the only depiction that we have of Melantrich from the time.
Inside, we have, for example, Moses drawing water from a rock in the desert and Jonah being thrown ashore by a whale.
In 1576, Melantrich married his daughter Anna to Daniel Adam, a professor at Charles University, to whom he entrusted the printing house. However, their relationship became tense because Adam – known as Daniel Adam z Veleslavína from 1578 – answered back to the censors.
Melantrich died in 1580, having published at least 233 works in his lifetime, and was buried in the Bethlehem Chapel (https://whatsinapraguestreetname.com/2024/10/01/prague-1-day-160-betlemske-namesti/). In a clear signal of how he felt about his son-in-law, he left the business to his son Jiří (and absolutely nothing to Veleslavín).
However, Jiří would die in 1586, so Veleslavín took over the business again. He, in turn, would die in 1599, after which Veleslavín’s son took charge. It was, expectedly, confiscated and given to the Jesuits after the Battle of Bílá Hora, and never regained its past glory.
Melantrich’s family house on this street – which has had its current name since 1894 – is long gone, but you do get to enjoy, for example, the building created for the Municipal Savings Bank of Prague (1891, the work of Antonín Wiehl and Osvald Polívka). And its exhibitions.
Or attractive Renaissance buildings such as U pěti korun (The Five Crowns; originally in Gothic style but redone in 1615).
Which is next to Dům U Košíku (The Basket) and Dům U Svatých Tří králů (The Holy Three Kings). Such beautiful buildings, yet people only ever walk past them in order to make it to the Astronomical Clock in time to see it do stuff for a few seconds.
Melantrich was also the name of a publishing company founded by the Czech National Socialist Party (not related to that one) in 1897. During the First Republic, it was Czechoslovakia’s biggest.
‘Kůže’ means skin, but also leather. There are two modern-day adjectives derived from this: kožní and kožený. ‘Kožná’ is the feminine form of… well, neither, actually.
Anyway, in the 18th century, number 8 in the street was a kožnice, i.e. a warehouse and shop for leather goods. Indeed, from about 1800 until 1870, the street was called U kožnice.
I know there’s always the risk of something like that Spanish woman who restored that painting happening, but my goodness, this graffiti. Surely number 8 deserves a bit of vigilante justice.
Even if it’s just to honour Artúr Görgei (1818-1916), one of the leading lights of the Hungarian Revolutionary Army, who studied chemistry at Charles University from 1845 to 1848 and lived here.
Before its leather era, Kožná was known as U zlatého medvěda (The Golden Bear), after number 1 in the street, which is actually called U Dvou zlatých medvědů (the *two* golden bears).
Currently owned by the Museum of the Capital City of Prague, it was, in 1885, the birthplace of Egon Kisch, a legendary reporter, best known for his travels across the world (he was known as Der rasende Reporter – the Furious Reporter), his communism and his hatred of Nazism.
A ‘kamzík’ is a chamois, i.e. a goat-antelope mainly found in the Alps, but also in the Tatras, Carpathians, Balkans and Pyrenees. One has to assume they like mountains.
Closer to home, they were planted (can one plant an animal?) into the Sudetes (AKA the Krkonošsko-jesenická subprovincie, or Sudety) in the early 20th century, and apparently these chamois are the healthiest in Europe.
Number 4 in this street is called U bílého kamzíka (The White Chamois), and has been called that since about 1650. Around 1800, the street followed suit.
So I guess it’s nice to realise it’s not named after their hides being flogged at one of the nearby markets (spoiler: not the case for tomorrow’s street).
Indeed, the street was known as Za Karolinem until 1800. But back in the Middle Ages, it was called Pleierova, after Oldřich Pleier, the owner of number 9 (which, in its current form, is called U Černého slunce, or the Black Sun, and, yes, looks better on Celetná).
Kamzíková itself is more of a passageway between more important streets, and, while you might think that makes it sound quite appealing… it’s kind of not.
So, it made sense for people with an interest in trade and selling to settle here. Such as traders in iron, i.e. ‘železo’.
The street name ‘Železníků’ can be traced as far back as 1354, but got simplified to its current form in the 15th century.
Meaning it’s sadly nothing to do with Železník (1978-2004), four-time winner of the Velká pardubická steeplechase.
Železník’s mum and dad were called Želatina and Zigeunersohn; Želatina gave birth to Želka, Žeton, Žitomír, Žikava, Žerotín and Železník, proving that animals get more exciting names than we do.
Železná is largely a thoroughfare for tourists to get from A to B (much as the traders used it once upon a time), but also includes this very worthy addition to Prague: https://www.praguepride.cz/en/events/community-center.
Rather than build something from scratch, the councillors decided to buy property from rich families and adapt it.
By 1364, the Town Hall had a tower – Prague’s tallest at the time, and not significantly changed in the centuries since.
As a result, the square was called Staré tržiště (The Old Marketplace), which changed to Staroměstský rynk (Old Town Market) in the 14th century (note how ‘rynek’ is still the standard Polish word for ‘market square’, and Poland has a lot of fine ones).
In 1410, an astronomical clock, largely the work of Mikuláš of Kadaň and Jan Šindel, was inaugurated. It’s the oldest clock of its kind that’s still in operation.
Its current decorations are from 1490 (possibly carried out by Jan Růže), and the clock was worked on by Jan Táborský of Klokotská Hora in the mid-16th century. It’s not changed fundamentally since (the crowds have increased, though).
But that was outdone in gruesomeness 199 years, later, when the Habsburg regime executed 27 Czechs who had led the Bohemian Revolt, which had been quashed by the Czech defeat at the Battle of White Mountain (Bílá Hora) the year before: https://english.radio.cz/400-years-pragues-old-town-square-executions-8720953.
In 1650, Old Town Square gained the Marian Column, which was Ferdinand III’s way of saying thanks to Prague for defeating the Swedes in 1648.
One might say that not forcing people to convert to Catholicism is another good way of showing gratitude, but hey.
By the 17th century, the square had come to be known as ‘Staroměstský plac’ (Old Town Market) or ‘Velké náměstí’ (Big Square).
In 1784, when the Old Town, New Town, Malá Strana and Hradčany became one administrative unit, the town halls of the last three were closed down, and the one on Old Town Square started to serve the whole of Prague.
Key events in the 19th century included the Neo-Gothic extension of the Old Town Hall (1838-1848), the official introduction of Staroměstské náměstí as the square’s name (1895), and – hard to imagine now – the introduction of trams. They would run until 1966.
Here’s a picture of one going past the Astronomical Clock, an image so unimaginable that I’m half-expecting to find out it’s made by AI.
At the start of the 20th century, Old Town Square wasn’t immune to the ‘rehabilitation’ (asanace) that aimed to improve hygiene but also destroyed a lot of cultural heritage.
One victim was the Krenn House, one of the largest Baroque houses in the Old Town.
Old Town Square has always been a popular place for demonstrations – this picture is of a demonstration in support of universal suffrage, held in November 1905.
In 1915, a monument was erected to Jan Hus, 500 years after he was executed. Financed by public donations, it soon became a symbol of resistance to Habsburg rule.
This therefore made it an inevitable location for pro-independence demonstrations in 1918 (the speakers in this two pictures are the politician, Václav Klofáč, and the lawyer and soon-to-be Inspector General of Czechoslovakia’s armed forces, Josef Scheiner).
During the Prague Uprising in May 1945, the Town Hall was captured by insurgents and became one of the main targets of Nazi fighters, who set the building on fire, destroying part of the city archives. The Neo-Gothic extension had to be demolished: https://www.esbirky.cz/predmet/150989?searchParams=.
In November 1962, a bomb went off on Old Town Square during a celebration of the Great October Socialist Revolution.
Mikšův dům once belonged to a furrier by the name of Mikeš, but (after a fire) was bought by the Old Town in 1458 and incorporated into the Town Hall.
Next door, Dům kramáře Kříže, has a very similar story – Kříž was a shopkeeper who bought the house in 1387, and it too became part of the Town Hall in 1458. It includes council chambers, one of which is used for weddings.
Dům U Minuty is famous not only for its freaking wonderful sgraffito decorations, but also because Franz Kafka lived here from 1889 to 1896 (and all three of his sisters were born here).
The Church of Saint Nicholas was built from 1732 to 1737, replacing what had been a centre of Hussite ideology back in the day. It was reinstated as a Hussite church in 1920.
The former building of the Prague Municipal Insurance Company is now the Ministry for Regional Development of the Czech Republic.
(Briefly imagines getting to go to work on this square every day)
These are the buildings that were destroyed to make way for this one in 1899.
While here, what is now a restaurant was once part of a monastery dedicated to St Salvatore. The other buildings that were part of the monastery were destroyed as part of the ‘clean-up’ of Prague that took place in 1902-3.
In 1843, Palác Kinských, a standout even on a square like this, was the birthplace of Bertha von Suttner. In 1905, she would become the first woman to win the Nobel Peace Prize.
Next door, U Kamenného zvonu (The Stone Bell) is used by the Gallery of the Capital City of Prague.
Štorchův dům was built in 1896-7 for a publisher, Alexander Štorch. What you see is a restoration from 1948 (with later modifications), as the house was burned down during the Prague Uprising in May 1945.
U Kamenného beránka (The Stone Lamb) was once a literary and cultural salon, run by Berta Fantová and attended by, among others, Albert Einstein, Christian von Ehrenfels, Max Brod and Franz Kafka (who we’ve established didn’t have much of a commute to get there).
U Červené lišky (The Red Fox) was purchased by Coast Capital Partners in 2017 for ‘the highest known sum in the Czech Republic that a buyer was willing to pay for a house in the centre’ (CZK 230,000 per square metre, and I don’t feel I’ve helped anyone by specifying that).
While I don’t have specific comments on Dům Na Kamenci other than that I love that colour.
In non-building territory, the Prague Meridian was used to tell the time until 1918 (high noon was determined by a shadow cast by the Marian Column). The marker on the ground says ‘The Meridian according to which time in Prague was determined in the past’ in Czech and Latin.
In 965, Ibrahim ibn Yaqub, an Arabic-speaking, Sephardi Jewish traveller (and probable merchant) whose family came from what is now Tortosa in Catalonia, travelled to Prague.
He wrote about his trip – and what he wrote is the oldest written reference to Prague that we have.
He wrote that it was ‘the largest city in terms of trade’ with a market where people sold and bought slaves, tin, furs and food.
It’s highly possible that he was talking about this spot here.
Even if he wasn’t, a market definitely existed in this spot by the 1100s. It had a ‘merchant’s centre’ which was fortified, with a moat, walls and two gates, and anyone who wanted to enter had to pay a fee – or Ungelt (in German).
However, once traders had paid this, it was worth it – they could sleep here, as could their horses, for whom there was a stable, and they could store their supplies. So important was the centre that it had its own Romanesque church (dedicated to the Virgin Mary) and a hospital.
As for the Czech name, there’s an Old Slavic word – tynъ – which means ‘wall’. It’s assumed that this is of Germanic origin, an origin which has since given us the German ‘Zaun’ (wall), the Dutch ‘tuin’ (garden), and – wait for it – the English ‘town’.
As the Old Town grew in importance, the original church was replaced by an Early Gothic church in 1256, but, by the mid-1300s, the parishioners were quite flush with cash and decided to fund something even grander.
Construction was initially led by Matthias of Arras (responsible for the early stages of St Vitus’ Cathedral) and Peter Parler (who took over work on St Vitus’ after Matthias died, and was also responsible for Charles Bridge). It was ready for use – if not complete – by 1380.
The church fell into Hussite control (from 1427, its vicar was Jan Rokycana – https://whatsinapraguestreetname.com/2022/11/19/prague-3-day-19-rokycanova/), but the ensuing wars, combined with the fact this construction was taken a bit more seriously than that of a panelák, meant that it wasn’t completed until 1511.
More gruesomely, the roof of the church couldn’t be built as planned, as, in 1437, Emperor Sigismund – not, shall we say, a Hussite stan – had decided that the timber meant for this job should be used to build gallows for the execution of Jan Roháč (https://whatsinapraguestreetname.com/2022/11/25/prague-3-day-81-rohacova/).
After the Battle of Bílá Hora in 1620, the church was, like Bohemia itself, subject to forced recatholicisation – the statue of George of Poděbrady (the only Hussite king) was replaced by a relief of the Madonna, and Rokycana’s tombstone was destroyed, as were his remains.
After the Thirty Years’ War, the interior was redone in Baroque style, but the church suffered fires in both 1679 and 1819. It always seems to have some kind of renovation going on.
Back to the Ungelt/Týn, wealthier Prague residents would start to build their own homes around the market in the 1300s (though none of these are the originals because, yes, fires).
After the Hussite Wars, Prague’s position as a centre of international trade had been massively screwed, and the Ungelt became a place for domestic trade only.
In 1774, the customs office moved to Haštalská, and Ungelt/Týn became neglected. After reconstruction work, it was opened to the public again in 1996.
Number 3, U Černého slona (The Black Elephant), is now a hotel whose website says it’s had some pretty important guests (Tycho Brahe, Václav Havel, Madeleine Albright).
While number 7, Palác Budovců z Budova, is named after one of its owners, Václav Budovec z Budova, who would be executed just a stone’s throw away on Old Town Square in 1621, four years after he purchased the house. He’s commemorated by a statue on the façade.
And number 6, U Zlatého prstenu (The Golden Ring), was reconstructed by the Czech-Croatian architect Vlado Milunič in the 1990s. Since 2016, it’s been part of the Museum of the Capital City of Prague.
There are two more streets named after Týn – including one which is the complex itself – so expect to see some of these buildings from slightly different angles in future posts.
Today, I’m able to give you the address where he once owned a house (from 1664), but not the house itself, as that was demolished in 1911.
The street was originally called Štupartská, just like its neighbour, but gained an adjective in 1925. I’m not convinced that it’s actually the smaller of the two streets, and, if it is, it’s not by a significant amount.
So, inevitably, to the left of the church, you’ll find the buildings of the former monastery (numbers 6 and 8). One of them is now a school.
Across the road at number 7, Dům U Božího oka (God’s Eye House) is part of the Týn complex (more on that soon). Another victim of the fire of 1689, it was restored in early Baroque style in 1694.
According to one source, Petr Štupart z Löwenthal was a hetman (i.e. a military commander) in the imperial army for fifteen years, after which he moved to Prague and worked in the Royal Chamber for three decades.
In 1664, Štupart purchased a house in the vicinity, and I’ll write about that tomorrow as it’s not actually on this street.
Number 12, meanwhile, is another entrance to Menhartovský palác (covered in the Celetná thread).
These fine buildings deserve to be photographed too.
As does one of Prague’s greatest views (to me, at least). If this view isn’t a book cover already, it should be.
Here’s my (sightly filtered, but it was still a glorious day) photo of the same view from April 2016, at which point I’d already decided I was moving back to Prague but hadn’t yet told anyone.
While their main stomping ground was on Anenské náměstí, it seems that they also owned a house at number 1, which was known as In Templo (Czech: V Templu).
Their time in Bohemia is not brilliantly documented, so I’m unsure if they moved here before or after they were cancelled by the Pope in 1312.
I read that the building was later occupied by nuns, who ran a hospital for poor women, but then the different pages I was looking at started giving slightly different information, so I’ll stop now.
Anyway, have a Good Friday, and I look forward to giving you something a bit more concrete tomorrow.
Wenceslas/Václav I – the ‘One-Eyed’ – became King of Bohemia in 1230. The one eye thing was the result of a childhood hunting trip gone wrong. Which isn’t directly relevant to the story, but somebody was going to ask if I didn’t mention it.
Anyway, events in 1230 and the years around it were dominated by the Crusades, one of the less deadly consequences of which was that Christianity became increasingly mainstream in Europe. And church orders became a feature of cities, not just the countryside.
On that note, in 1232, Václav decreed that a church be built for the Franciscan order, who had been founded in 1209. The foundation stone was set in 1232, and the monastery was complete by 1244. The church was dedicated to St Jacob.
Devastated by a fire in 1316, the monastery was clearly still a priority for the leaders of Bohemia, as John of Luxembourg (not yet ‘The Blind’ – that would happen at the Battle of Crécy in 1346) paid for its renovation *and* left it much grander than it had been before.
When Charles IV died in 1378, his body was displayed in the church (though also in other locations).
The church survived the Hussite Wars and the Thirty Years’ War – but a fire, probably started by French arsonists, and probably something to do with the the rivalry between Louis XIV and the Spanish royals (who were Habsburgs, of course), damaged it considerably in 1683.
Renovated within twelve years of that (credit to the Prague builder Jan Šimon Pánek), it was ultimately closed down in 1784, had yet another fire in 1841, and, in 1869, became the location of Bohemia’s first kindergarten.
Also, its outside are spectacular and I should probably start exploring the insides of some of these places too.
Pope Paul VI declared the church a basilica minor in 1974.
Jakubská also features Kapounovský dům – also rebuilt after that fire in 1689, and presumably the only place in Prague that used to be both a crematorium (in 1713) and an illegal ‘wine and beer tavern and soup house’ (in 1720).
It was rebuilt yet *again* after another how-many-of-these-fires-seriously in 1754.
The house was owned in the late 19th century by Karl David Becher, who worked as a doctor in the spas of Karlovy Vary, and also set up a museum here dedicated to the town.
I’m assuming that Karl David was a relative of Josef Vitus Becher (1769-1840), who invented a drink you might have heard-of-slash-regretted.
Another spa doctor from KV, Leopold Fleckles, had had an office in the house in the 19th century, where he received regular visits from a patient, Karl Marx. Hence the first ever Karl Marx Museum being set up here in 1960. It existed until – you guessed correctly – 1990.
While ‘rybná’ is an adjective relating to ‘ryba’, i.e. fish, this area was, around 1200, a popular place for butchers, which led to the street being called ‘Za masnými krámy’ (Behind the Butcher Shops) until the 18th century.
In the 18th century, the name changed to ‘Za svatým Jakubem’ for reasons which I’ll be going into more detail on tomorrow.
However, in the same century, fishmongers started to operate around here, after laws stating that fish could only be sold on Old Town Square, and later also on Charles Square, were abolished.
The name Rybná has been used since 1870.
The most distinctive building on Rybná is probably the modern Burzovní palác, the Stock Exchange Palace, which, yes, hosts the Czech Stock Exchange.
I was going to say this has been a slightly short/dull one, but Staroměstské náměstí is up on day 190 and I’ll probably be there taking pics over Easter and wondering if I can have a few more dull ones.
Wenceslas/Václav IV became King of Bohemia in 1378, and, like his father, Charles/Karel IV, originally lived at Prague Castle.
Václav’s talents included favouritism, being less popular than his father, and not getting on well with his relatives.
Such a relative was Charles’s widow, Elizabeth of Pomerania, who not only supported her own sons (including Sigismund, later Václav’s successor), but also lived at the Castle.
Which may be why Václav wanted a change of scene and headed to the Old Town.
The court would be the official residence of the Czech Kings (when they spent time in Bohemia) until 1485, when Vladislav II, probably feeling that the other side of the river would be less riot- and defenestration-heavy than the Old Town had become, moved back to the castle.
It was in the court, for example, that George created his “Treaty for the establishment of peace in all Christendom”. This kind of preempted the EU: he proposed a treaty of all Christian powers, whereby all these countries would settle their differences peacefully.
After the move, the court served various purposes: it was a seminary for archbishops for a time (from 1636), was the location of a church devoted to St Vojtěch (from 1705, pictured below before its destruction in 1902), and, from 1869 to 1900, was a school for cadets.
It was demolished in 1902/3, and its replacement, Municipal House, would appear about a decade later.
I can’t tell you what the Royal Court looked like, but I can feel safe in assuming that it didn’t get as many haters as the Kotva shopping centre, which was built between 1969 and 1975 (as if these pictures didn’t already tell you it was a child of the 1970s).
Once Czechoslovakia’s biggest shopping centre, it’s getting a revamp.
Brilliant vintage footage of its insides back in the day here:
And, credit where it’s due, I once got a drink on its terrace and this was the view I got.
(Also, as I forgot to mention it before, ‘kotva’ means ‘anchor’)
Králodvorská also features Hotel Paříž, which you may know best from Bohumil Hrabal’s I Served the King of England.
Finally, Králův Dvůr is not to be confused with, erm, Králův Dvůr, a town of 10,000 in Beroun District, named after a medieval court which was probably founded by Václav I.
Confusingly, Václav IV – who founded the Králův Dvůr in Prague – was captured by his cousin, Jobst of Moravia, at the other Králův Dvůr in 1394.
The buildings were used for various purposes after that*, at least until 1902, when they were demolished; three years later, construction started on their replacement, led by Osvald Polívka and Antonín Balšánek.
* More details tomorrow.
After significant overruns – both in terms of time and cost – Obecní dům, AKA Municipal House, opened on 16 December 1912.
Then, on 26 November 1989, Ladislav Adamec, the final communist Prime Minister of Czechoslovakia, had his first meeting with Václav Havel here. Communist rule would officially end two days later.
Once he was in power himself, Havel attached major importance to the renovation of Obecní dum – the works, taking place between 1994 and 1997, ultimately cost CZK 2 billion.
The most famous part of the building’s interior is the Smetana Hall (Smetanova síň), the main concert hall of Prague’s Symphony Orchestra. This is how it looked during the opening of the Prague Spring festival of 1990:
That was before the renovation work, of course, so here’s the equivalent concert from 2021:
While you can see the cafe inside the building in this video by Radio Prague:
I only got as far as the entrance and assumed I wasn’t able to get any further than that, so here you go:
Whereas, in 1987, INXS got a lot further than I did, and we can be very grateful for that:
The gate was then renamed Horská, because what is now Hybernská ultimately led to Kutná Hora.
Once the Old Town fortifications lost their importance, the gate became seriously dilapidated, which wasn’t what you wanted people to see at the start of the Royal Way.
However, construction was suspended after 1483, largely because King Vladislav II had moved his court from round here to Prague Castle.
From the 1700s onwards, the gate was used to store gunpowder, which is why it’s known as the Prašná brána.
It suffered significant damage when the Prussians besieged Prague in May and June 1757.
It got its current appearance – which we would describe as pseudo-Gothic – between 1878 and 1886. Its façade features statues of Czech monarchs and symbols of the countries they ruled over.
This photo shows how the tower looked in 1868, before its revamp.
The street – which has a grand total of three addresses – was named Petrohradská in 1905, after St Petersburg, before changing to Lvovská in 1916, after L’viv. It’s had its current name since 1927.
Re: Lvovská, I went to L’viv in May 2017 and couldn’t help but fall madly in love with the place.
For the most well-known of the buildings on U Prašné brány, see tomorrow’s thread.
A ‘calta’ is a a type of medieval Bohemian pastry.
They had some sort of ‘braided’ design on them, which means I’m currently picturing a hot cross bun, but probably more intricate.
Google results for this pastry reveal more hits over in Slovakia than here, where it was apparently once traditional to bake calty for weddings, christenings, Easter, Christmas, and well, any excuse.
Anyway, a baker of calty would be known as a caltnéř or a caletník – and around 1300 or so, they used to sell their goods here. Hence Celetná.
Celetná was the first part of the Královská cesta, or the Royal Way, which connected the Old Town with Prague Castle.
Nowadays, it connects Staroměstské náměstí and Náměstí Republiky, so it’s understandably filled with people all the time (there were trams until 1959, and it is pedestrianised these days).
But there are several good reasons to stop and stare. So let’s do that.
Sixtův dům, at number 2, is due to be converted into a Ritz-Carlton hotel; this plan, mooted for a long time, was approved in 2020 despite protests from preservationists. It also looks pretty rubbish right now.
Number 3, U tří králů (The Three Kings), was lived in by Franz Kafka from 1896 to 1907.
While number 5, Týnská fara / the Týn Rectory, is first mentioned in writing in 1135 and was founded by Soběslav I as a hospital for sick merchants and the poor.
It now hosts the local parish office and a restaurant (more on Týn when we get to Old Town Square, of course).
Number 10, U Bílého páva (The White Peacock), was burned down during the Prague Uprising in May 1945, so what you see now is a reconstruction from 1949 (the chocolate museum obviously arrived later).
Number 12, Hrzánský Palace, is another Kafka connection – from 1906 to 1912, Hermann and Julie Kafka (parents of Franz) ran a textile wholesale business from here.
Millesimovský Palác, at number 13, was once the Institute of Marxism-Leninism, is now used by Charles University, and is mainly being written about by me right now because I just think it’s a great building.
While Menhart Palace – number 17 – hosts the Celetná Theatre and the Institute of Arts – Theater Institute, founded by the Ministry of Culture in 1959 and aiming to acquaint both Czechs and foreigners with the country’s theatres and their work.
Number 29, U Zlatého anděla (The Golden Angel), attracted several royals in the late 19th and early 20th centuries – the monarchs of Denmark, Greece, Hannover and Saxony are all listed as guests.
Number 30, U České orlice (The Czech Eagle), stands out thanks to its Neo-Gothic style. It was commissioned in 1896 by a physician, Čeněk Klika, who would later co-found the Czech Scouting Association.
There are also two buildings on Celetná known as Palác Pachtů z Rájova, or Pachtovský palác – numbers 31 and 36. The picture is of number 36.
In June 1848, street fights were taking place between students and radicals on one side, and the forces of the commanding general in Bohemia, Alfred Windischgrätz, on the other. His wife, Marie Eleonora zu Schwarzenberg, was watching from one of this building’s windows.
While watching, she was hit by a stray bullet and was killed. The full circumstances remain unknown.
‘Ovocný trh’ translates as ‘fruit market’. You’ve already worked out where this one is going.
From the early 1200s, a market selling fruit and vegetables stood here. You were still able to shop at the market in the early 20th century, as evidenced by this postcard from 1907.
And this photo from 1927.
The street has a lot of impressive buildings on it, of which the most noticeable is Stavovské divadlo / the Estates Theatre.
Built between 1781 and 1783, it was one of the first Classicist buildings in Prague. Four years after its opening, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart would conduct his Marriage of Figaro here, where it got a much better reception than it had in Vienna.
This gave him the motivation to compose Don Giovanni, which would also get its premiere here in 1787 (this is the set design for an early Prague production).
Also famous is the Karolinum, the historic seat of Charles University, created in 1383-6 by converting a stone palace.
It’s the seat of the University’s rector, as well as where graduations and matriculation ceremonies take place.
But my favourite building on Ovocný trh – and one of the buildings in Prague that had a particularly big impact on me when I first visited in 2005 – is Dům U Černé Matky Boží / the House of the Black Madonna.
Built in 1912 on the site of a Baroque house with the same name, it’s a Cubist marvel (this is the building it replaced).
You can see the Black Madonna that the building is named after in the last of the photos that I took (and, indeed, in the pic from 1911 above).
It was the Czech Museum of Fine Arts from 1994 to 2002 – and has been the Czech Museum of Cubism since 2003: https://www.upm.cz/czech-cubism/.
The street then underwent market-related name changes: in the early 1800s, the western part was called Vaječný trh (Egg Market), and the eastern part was Husí trh (Goose Market).
The current name has been in place since about 1850 – but, for its origins, we need to go back about five centuries, specifically to 1347.
This is the year in which Charles/Karel IV – he of the University, the Bridge, the Square, Karlštejn, Karlovy Vary, and much of Prague Castle as we currently know it fame – was crowned King of Bohemia.
As part of the festivities, knightly tournaments were carried out in the area where the street is now, and guests were served by knights (rytíři) on horseback.
The tournaments would continue to be carried out until the 1700s; sadly, the knight-waiter concept was not.
Kind of amazingly, the historians of Charles University carried out a reenactment of Charles’s coronation in 2016 (no knights fighting, though):
Things on Rytířská include number 12, originally a complex comprised of Stará rychta (The Old Bailiff’s House) and the Havel gate – part of the Old Town fortifications.
Now existing in classicist style, it’s the headquarters of the Health Station of the City of Prague.
While Wimmer Palace (number 18) got royally screwed over by unauthorised modifications in 2004/5, and hasn’t been used since.
To put even more of a downer on your morning (it’s certainly put one on mine), the same is true of its neighbour, Palác Hrobčických (on the left).
Also closed to the public is the Old Town Market building, built in the mid-1890s.
Finally, across the road, you’ve got the Hungarian Cultural Centre, and, if you look a bit more closely, they’re currently celebrating the most Hungarian anniversary ever.
