Prague’s New Town was founded in 1348; of its early citizens, we know that there was one called Jakub Charvát.
We can also assume he was quite well-off, because, in 1378, he bought two houses (now at numbers 33 and 34 on this street), as well as the surrounding Olbramovice gardens.
He replaced the garden with eighteen new houses which he rented out, making him a precursor of those nightmare landlords in big cities who people love exposing on Facebook.
He owned so much property in this area that it came to be known as Charváty, and the street name was in place by around 1400 too.
Maps from the 19th century refer to the street as Židovská zahrada zadní (Rear Jewish Garden). I was going to discuss this in tomorrow’s post, but that is a long one and this one isn’t particularly, so here goes.
This was a Jewish cemetery, used for burials from 1254 (at the latest) until 1478, when the area was transformed into building plots.
From 1900 to 1920, construction works round here unearthed several Jewish tombstones from that time; fragments are in the National Museum.
Further construction work in 1997 resulted in the discovery of another 400 tombs and skeletal graves; the works were terminated as Judaism states that graves are inviolable for eternity. The subterranean area was declared a cultural monument. More on https://www.jewishgen.org/austriaczech/archaeol.htm.
A memorial, created by Richard Sidej and put in place in 2016, commemorates the cemetery.
Until 1781, there was a moat here, which had the somewhat inconvenient effect of separating the Old Town and the New Town. Therefore, it was decided to fill the ditch and create a street in its place.
Then, after 1870, it was named Ferdinandská, after Ferdinand V ‘the Benevolent’ / ‘Dobrotivý’, who had abdicated the Habsburg throne in 1848 and lived out his remaining years in Prague Castle. The name shifted slightly to Ferdinandova třída around 1900.
The current name was introduced in 1919, and has been used ever since (except during the Nazi occupation, when it was called Viktoria).
On 17 November 1989, Národní was the scene of a brutal crackdown on demonstrators by the riot police.
As well as those crucial moments in Czech history, there’s so much to see on Národní. Let’s go for a walk (please forgive me for skipping the theatre and the Ursuline convent/church, both of which are discussed in recent threads).
Lažanský Palace was built between 1861 and 1863, and, in its early days, was lived in by Bedřich Smetana. You may well be familiar with the cafe that was opened in the building in 1881 – Cafe Slavia.
Other parts of the building are used by FAMU.
Next door to the palace, and built around the same time (1858-62) for the Spořitelna česká bank, number 3 has hosted the Czech Academy of Sciences since 1994.
At number 7, Pojišťovna Praha (the Prague Insurance Company) was built between 1906 and 1907, and is owned by the Center of Joint Activities of the Academy of Sciences of the Czech Republic. Nice bookshop in there too.
Continuing the (freaking awesome) art nouveau theme, Topič House is at number 9. It was built as part of the František Topič Publishing House and used to host Topič Salon, once the longest-running private art gallery in Prague.
At number 25, Palác Metro was built in 1870 and given an overhaul between 1922 and 1925. Nowadays, it includes three theatres and, because I don’t want to paint an idealised picture of Prague, a KFC.
At number 37, Palác Platýz has a much longer history than most buildings here – back to 1347, though obviously not in its current form. Nice courtyard.
Crossing the road, we come to Palác Adria, one of those buildings that could be voted the best building in the world and still be underrated. It was built in 1924 and its style is apparently known as ‘Rondocubist’.
Since 1998, it’s hosted Divadlo Bez zábradlí, which, when it was founded in 1990, was the first privately-owned theatre in the country.
WHAT A BUILDING THOUGH.
Turning back towards the river, Palác Porgesů z Portheimu (1762-76) has been owned by the Prague Gas Works since the 1940s.
While Palác Chicago (1927-8) was, at the time of building, one of the most cutting-edge buildings in Prague; it was fitted out with facilities which were meant to emulate those of American skyscrapers.
The Máj shopping centre (1972-5) is known for being: a) incredibly 1970s; b) the scene of a multi-storey Tesco when I first visited Prague in 2005, a store so big that it had a boomerang section; c) briefly a Kmart in the 1990s; d) under reconstruction.
Palác Louvre was built around the turn of the 20th century, replacing an old riding stable. It’s best known for its eponymous cafe, which was one of Kafka’s favourite hangouts and reached the peak of its popularity in the 1920s and 1930s.
Schirdingovský palác (renovated in 1752) is the home of the Czech Bar Association. It’s most famous for its plaque commemorating the Velvet Revolution, as this is the spot where the most brutal police beatings took place.
And finally, Palác Dunaj (Danube) was opened in 1930, and, during Communist times, hosted the Cultural Center of the GDR. Having hosted the British Council in the 1990s/2000s, it’s recently been converted into upmarket office space, and this is due to open in the next few weeks.
If there’s one thing I love about writing these posts, it’s the opportunity to walk down a street you’ve walked down a million times and see all these things you’ve never really looked at before. It’s kind of like falling in love with someone all over again.
This was granted in the same year, but it wasn’t until 1851 that a board was set up for the project, and started gathering donations (this is something like wanting to set up a Gofundme page and then having to wait six years to actually do so).
The plot of land where the theatre is located was purchased in 1852; ten years later, construction began on the Provisional Theater (Prozatímní divadlo), which was completed within six months.
The ceremony was quite well attended, shall we say – it’s said that over 100,000 people witnessed it.
The architect whose design for the theatre was selected was Josef Zítek (pictured – he also designed the Rudolfinum), and his vision was carried out by František Havel (not related to Václav) from 1874 onwards.
By 1868; the foundations of the theatre were prepared; in 1873, a commission was formed to decide who would get to decorate the façade of the building; by 1877, the theatre also had a roof.
However, during these works, the roof, auditorium and stage were destroyed by a fire, a mere two months and one day after the theatre’s opening.
Thanks to hugely generous donations from the people of Prague, the theatre – worked on by architect Josef Schulz – reopened on 18 November 1883, again with a performance of Libuše.
The Prozatímní, meanwhile, was joined to the theatre’s southern wing.
Also from 1977 to 1983, the theatre gained a younger sibling, the Nová scéna / New Scene. It’s the home of the Laterna Magica.
The 1980s also saw the construction of the theatre’s restaurant building and service building. The service building is, well, very 1980s, and the pink neon letters on the screen in this picture only add to that.
Meanwhile, the National Theatre is the sort of building you can look at from every angle without getting bored.
One of the buildings whose façade was significantly damaged by the explosion is now a gallery called, appropriately, Fasáda. I like what they’ve done with it very much.
I was also quite taken by number 22 in the street when I walked past it; apparently it now hosts luxury apartments.
Václav Havel was born in 1936 in Prague. His family was well-off and well-known: his grandfather Vácslav (1861-1921) had built Lucerna, while his father (also Václav; 1897-1979) had created Barrandov Terraces.
Meanwhile, his maternal grandfather, Hugo Vavrečka (1880-1952), had been a renowned war correspondent, and was also the first Czechoslovak ambassador to Hungary, before carrying out the same role in Austria.
Struggling to get into the secondary school of his choice due to his bourgeois background, Havel, in 1951, started training as a chemical laboratory technician while also attending evening classes on Štěpánská (https://whatsinapraguestreetname.com/2024/09/01/prague-2-day-167-stepanska/), graduating in 1954.
He started studying economics at the Czech Technical University (ČVUT) in 1955, but dropped out in 1957 and tried, unsuccessfully, to get a place at the Film and TV School of the Academy of Performing Arts (FAMU).
After his military service (1957-9), Havel got a job as a stage technician at the ABC Theatre on Vodičkova, before switching to Na zábradlí (on Anenské náměstí) in 1960.
It was at the latter theatre that Havel’s second play, Zahradní slavnost (The Garden Party), was premiered in 1963 (see https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A5P4s_APdaE). He eventually became the theatre’s dramaturg.
Havel got on the authorities’ radar in June 1967, when he made a speech at the Congress of Czechoslovak Writers criticising censorship (https://archiv.hn.cz/c1-54248810-1967-projev-na-sjezdu-spisovatelu). Originally on the list of candidates to lead the Union of Czechoslovak Writers, he was promptly removed from it.
During the Prague Spring in the following year, he became head of the Circle of Independent Writers, and demanded a multi-party political system.
Once the Prague Spring was crushed, Havel’s works were no longer allowed to be performed or published. Having a certain degree of financial independence due to his plays’ international success, he took a job in a brewery and published his new plays in samizdat.
He was one of the founders of Charter 77, a civil rights movement formed in part as a response to the imprisonment of the Plastic People of the Universe in 1976. The founding of the Charter would result in Havel’s imprisonment in 1977 & 1978: https://edu.ceskatelevize.cz/video/15230-vaclav-havel-a-charta-77.
Undeterred, Havel founded the Committee for the Defense of the Unjustly Prosecuted (VONS) in 1978, which campaigned for the rights – and the release – of political prisoners. This would lead to his longest stay in prison – 45 months from 1979 to 1983.
Two months later, he was imprisoned again following a police crackdown during Palach Week, on the 20th anniversary of Jan Palach’s self-immolation. Released on parole in May, he helped draft the Several Sentences petition, published in June.
On 17 November 1989, the police violently dispersed a student demonstration. Within two days, Havel had co-founded the anti-totalitarian Civic Forum (OF); by the 21st, he would be addressing a packed Wenceslas Square.
On the 28th, the Communist party relinquished power after 41 years. Of the many, many things this meant, one was that Czechoslovakia would need a new president. Havel was nominated on 8 December, and inaugurated on the 29th.
In Havel’s first term, he helped pave the way for free elections, democracy, and the withdrawal of Soviet troops; within a year, Pope John Paul II, George Bush and the Dalai Lama had all visited Czechoslovakia, and Havel had spoken at the US Congress.
However, this term was also marked by a somewhat generous amnesty in 1990 and tensions between the Czech and Slovak Republics (Havel wanted them to remain as one state).
When the Czech Republic became independent on 1 January 1993, Havel became its first president, and would remain in that position for two terms, i.e. ten years.
In this time, the Czech Republic joined NATO, and made preparations towards becoming a member of the EU. Havel also addressed the thorny topic of Czech-German relations, an area where his two successors seemed quite happy to aggravate matters.
Olga died of cancer in January 1996; in the same year, Havel would be diagnosed with lung cancer.
After leaving office in 2003, Havel remained politically engaged, particularly concerning human rights in Myanmar, Belarus and Kurdistan. He also wrote two more plays, including Leaving / Odcházení, which he directed a film version of in 2011.
Havel died on 18 December 2011, aged 75, as a result of a respiratory illness which had been caused or aggravated by his various stays in prison. Deservedly, there was an immense outpouring of grief.
There are many places named after Havel, both in the Czech Republic and internationally; if you fly into Prague, his name will be the first one that you see.
This square, meanwhile, is the ‘piazzetta’ of the National Theatre, designed in 1981 and given its current name in 2016. It includes Heart for Václav Havel, by the sculptor Kurt Gebauer.
This is obviously a very long thread, but even more obviously feels like it doesn’t go into enough detail.
Update, March 2024: on the second anniversary of the Russian attack on the theatre in Mariupol, Czech-Ukrainian initiative organised an event here to commemorate the children, and adults, who lost their lives due to this senseless and reprehensible war. Слава Україні. https://www.ceskenoviny.cz/zpravy/2493618
Svatá Voršila is known to English-speakers as Saint Ursula; we don’t know much about her other than that, in 383 AD, she, along with a group of virgins, was beheaded by the Huns in Cologne, where the main church devoted to her is now located.
We also know that Christopher Columbus later named the Virgin Islands after her and her unlucky group.
Having originally settled in Malá Strana, the order bought a town house round here in 1664. In the following years, they would buy more properties in the area, only to demolish them and replace them with a new building, the first stone being consecrated in 1674.
By 1676, enough work had been done for the nuns to move into their new convent here; in 1702, the foundation stone of the Church of St Ursula was laid.
As Ursuline nuns are particularly dedicated to education, they founded an elementary school; education was initially in German, with Czech being introduced in 1898.
The convent was closed in 1784 as part of Joseph II’s reforms, but only briefly (presumably because the Ursulines, working in education, were seen as ‘productive’ rather than ‘contemplative’).
However, the communists would abolish the convent yet again in 1951, nationalising the school and interning the nuns in Northern Bohemia. The Ursulines would get their property back in 1991.
The convent and church actually have their entrances on Národní rather than Voršilská, but let’s not let that get in the way of a good story.
Things that do have their entrance on Voršilská – other than the school – include, at number 1, the Arnošt of Pardubice halls of residence, built in 1901 (on the site of a former monastery) and run/used by Charles University since 1945.
At number 3, meanwhile, there’s the functionalist Nová síň art gallery, founded in 1934 and currently also owned by the Ursulines.
Across the road, at number 10, is Deymovský Palace, one of many palaces belong to the Schwarzenbergs. Converted into office space in 1994, Václav Havel had his headquarters here in his post-presidential days.
Finally, number 12, Dietrichsteinský Palace, is Prague’s Apostolic Nunciature, i.e. it’s basically the Vatican City’s embassy (spoiler alert: they don’t issue visas).
When this street was built in the 14th century, it was named Pasířská, because it was inhabited by pasíři – craftsmen making belts from metal, i.e. girdlers.
When they moved to another nearby street – which we’re getting to soon-ish – they were replaced by makers of fur coats and goods, and the street was renamed Kožešnická (a ‘furrier’ in Czech is a kožešník).
By 1791, the German name Nikolander Gasse had been introduced, and the Czech name Mikulandská appears on a map from 1816.
Apparently, one of the houses in the road was owned by a Mikuláš or a Nikolaus, although we don’t know any more about him.
Mikulandská included the first German Realschule in Prague; its most famous teacher was Jan Neruda, who, in the late 1850s, gave Czech classes to, amongst others, the writer Jakub Arbes. It later became a primary school.
The building gained a certain degree of notoriety in 2018, when it collapsed during renovations; three workers were injured. Police charged two people with causing the accident in 2021.
While it’s been suggested that there may have been a Mr Černý who owned property here, the most likely explanation is because the street is relatively narrow and, therefore, dark.
(And, if the first theory was correct, surely the street would be called Černého anyway)
Černá includes the Evangelical Faculty of Theology (ETF) of Charles University, and, while 2024 has only just begun, this may be the worst photo of a building in Prague that you’ll see all year.
Across the road is the house lived in by avant-garde artist and writer Karel Teige (1900-51); it also hosted a children’s home run by Dominican nuns. Currently, the same order offers student accommodation here.
Around 1400, one of the houses on this street was owned by a Velík Křemenec, whose name literally translates as ‘Big Quartzite’, which is incredible.
We don’t know much about him other than that he was wealthy, the house he owned was named Na Křemenci, and he had a licence to brew beer in there.
Over time, the name of the street gradually got corrupted to ‘Skřemenná’, but, in the 1700s, it became known as Poštovská, because postal cars would travel through it as part of the journey from Malá Strana to Vienna.
If you’ve been in Křemencova, there’s quite a good chance that this was because you were at number 11, AKA U Fleků, possibly the oldest brewery in Prague (the pub was first mentioned in 1499).
I think this is the house originally owned by Mr Křemenec, but don’t quote me on that as it could also have been bought later by a descendant. These days, it’s named after Jakub Flekovský, who bought it in 1762.
Across the road, number 12 was built from 1892 to 1894 in order to provide better premises for the country’s first Realgymnasium (a secondary school that prepares children for university). It educated, amongst others, Vladislav Vančura, Jiří Voskovec and Jan Werich.
Like any self-respecting street, Křemencova also has its own ghost. It’s said that, twice a week, a carriage drives through here from Vyšehrad, containing a miller who stole a lot of money. And the ghost won’t give up the, well, ghost until the money is spent on a good cause.
He also decreed that a village be created here, in the monastery’s honour. The village was named Opatovice (an opat is an ‘abbott’, with both words having their root in the Aramaic ‘abbā’).
The abbott may actually have lived here, at least according to one source I read.
In 1348, Charles IV founded Prague’s New Town, and so Opatovice ceased to exist as a separate village.
Current-day Opatovická includes the premises of the former Josef R. Vilímek Publishing House, one of the most famous in Bohemia in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. It’s now used by the Higher Vocational School of Journalism (VOŠP).
The street also features Vilímkův průchod, also named after the publisher, and linking Opatovická to Spálená. It’s convenient – and I can’t believe I hadn’t realised it was there until I took these photos – but it’s also in need of a bit of a makeover.
Jircha is tanned leather, derived from the Latin ‘hircus’, which is a buck or male goat. So a jirchář is a tanner, but is not exactly as the same as a koželuh, the standard word for ‘tanner’.
A koželuh – or a černokožešník (‘black leather craftsman’) – uses so-called tan, obtained from the bark of trees, to process leather.
A jirchář – or a bělokožešník (one who works with white hides) – processed hides using a solution of alum, water, egg yolks and flour. Apparently such a person would now be known as a ‘currier’.
And, of course, working as a jirchář or koželuh is what Wikipedia (quite wonderfully) refers to as an ‘odoriferous trade’, which is why it makes sense for it to be carried out near water.
In the 14th and 15th centuries, the street was known by another name, which, while also reflecting its tanners, was somewhat less complimentary: Smradařská (something like ‘Stinkers’ Street’).
But clearly somebody sensed that an image overhaul was needed, as, in the time of Charles IV, tanners were brought to work here from Calabria, and the street later came to be known as V Kalábrii.
Having been known as Jirchářská Prostřední from 1850 to 1870, it’s had its current name since 1870, which was quite a big year for renaming of streets.
V Jirchářích includes St. Michael’s Church in Jircháře, which is the home of the Czech, Slovak and English congregation of the Evangelical Church of the Augsburg Confession in the Czech Republic.
František Václav Pštross was born on this street in 1823; his father, also called František, was a local politician and owned a tannery, which František Junior joined in 1842.
Not content with only following in some of his father’s footsteps, he was elected to Prague City Council in 1848, but had to turn down the position as he was under 30.
He became a member of Prague’s Chamber of Commerce and Industry in 1850 (eventually spending a year as its Chairman from 1858), and also opened a leather processing factory in 1852.
In 1861, following municipal elections which saw Czech liberals take precedence over the German population, Pštross was elected as Mayor of Prague.
During his tenure, Czech became the main language of the administration, as well as the principal language in all of the city’s schools.
However, two years into his term, Pštross died of meningitis. He was 40.
He’s buried at Olšany Cemetery.
Pštrossova includes the building which, from 1890 to 1953, housed Minerva – the first high school for girls not only in Prague, but in Central Europe. It was founded by Eliška Krásnohorská, who is the subject of an upcoming post.
I’m quite glad this one is brief, because I’m currently on the larger of the two britských ostrovů, where we celebrate Christmas a day later than the Czechs.
If you fancy a quick quiz later, consider asking your relatives how you say Kanárské ostrovy, Panenské ostrovy and Velikonoční ostrov in English. Bis morgen!
The island was gradually formed by deposits of sand during the 16th century. It was initially settled by dyers, and therefore got the name of ‘Barvířský’ (a ‘dyer’ being a barvíř, derived from barva, which means colour).
After flooding in 1784, walls were added to the island, and trees were planted; in 1801, one František Antonín Engel opened a cotton-goods factory on the island, and the name ‘Engelův ostrov’ started to be used.
A spa-inn complex was added to the island in 1817, and, in 1836, the then-owner of the island, Václav Antonín Novotný, opened a new restaurant.
He named it – and the island – Žofín, after Princess Sophie of Bavaria (1805-72), mother of the future Franz Joseph I.
In June 1848, the Slavic Congress met here. The first congress of its kind, it was cut short due to the Prague Uprising ten days later, but gave the island its current name (plenty of us still say Žofín, though).
The Municipality of Prague purchased the island in 1884, when the palace was rebuilt in the form we know it in today.
It’s still one of Prague’s most important venues, although somebody should probably tell its web team to update their English-language event calendar (the next event is apparently a New Year’s Party on 31 December… 2019).
Also on the island is this 1927 statue by Ladislav Šaloun, Souzvuk (Harmony).
Slovanský ostrov was also home to Bohemia’s first steam locomotive – a 1:4 scale model of its British counterpart which was launched in 1841 and ran for all of 160 metres.
You can see it at the front of this drawing from the time.
A strouha is a gutter or a drain – and, in the 14th century, the term was also attributed to the bay of the Vltava located here.
It was also in the 14th century that we have the first written mention of a church here – St Peter’s Church Na strouze, allegedly built by Saint Wenceslas himself. It was destroyed by the Hussites in the 1420s, and unlike so many other churches, not replaced or renovated.
At number 1, Na Struze includes this memorable tenement house built between 1906 and 1907 by Gustav Papež (1863-1945).
While opposite (admittedly with its address on Masarykovo nábřeží) is the Goethe-Institut, which has operated here since 1991. It was the East German Embassy from 1949 to 1990 (having also been the Bulgarian Embassy from 1945 to 1948).
(Inevitably goes down rabbit hole of wondering if there are other cities in the region where the Goethe-Institut took over the East German Embassy’s premises)
Warsaw: no, although it set up shop in Poland earlier than it did in Czechoslovakia (1990 vs 1991), and its first address had previously been the East German Cultural and Information Centre: https://www.goethe.de/ins/pl/pl/sta/war.html?wt_sc=warszawa
Budapest: no, because there was once a time when Hungary was the one that was ahead of the curve, meaning that the local Goethe-Institut was opened before communism ended (1988 vs 1989): https://www.goethe.de/ins/hu/hu/index.html
Bucharest / Sofia: not sure.
Bratislava: not the capital of an independent country until 1993, so wouldn’t have had an East German embassy anyway.
East Berlin: now we’re just being stupid.
I’m now thinking ‘What happened to East German embassies’ would be a great little series if I weren’t already slightly occupied with this one, although, now I think about it, most of them probably just got subsumed into the West German ones.
Anyway, the Goethe dot CZ building was built in 1905, replacing a spa and a building with the excellent name of U tří divých mužů (The three wild men).
Mills operating here by the Vltava got their name from a former owner, Jan Šítka, who died in 1451.
In 1495, a wooden water tower was built, but would be destroyed by a fire six years later. A replacement would also be burned down in 1588, after which everybody got the message and a stone version was created instead.
Despite damage by Swedish troops in the Thirty Years’ War, the tower would function as the local waterworks until either 1847 or 1913 (two sources that I’ve been looking at mention different years).
Back on the street itself (which, let’s be honest, isn’t *that* near the tower), those who enjoy looking for embassies and consulates (or that could just be me) will be able to walk along Šítkova and tick Cape Verde off their list.
Vojtěch was born around 956 in Libice nad Cidlinou, near Nymburk, into the powerful Slavník dynasty (the other powerful family of the time being the Přemyslids).
Studying in Magdeburg for about ten years, he took the name ‘Adalbert’ upon his confirmation and was ordained as the second Bishop of Prague in 982, at a time when Christianity wasn’t gaining as much of a hold in Bohemia as those in power would have wanted.
Forced into exile when the Slavníks refused to finance a war being waged by Duke Boleslav, he headed to Rome in 988, returning five years later. In the year of his return, he also founded Břevnov Monastery.
The rivalry between the Slavníks and the Přemyslids would result in the storming of Libice in 995; several of Adalbert’s brothers were also killed. Adalbert excommunicated the murderers, but he was no longer safe either; he fled to Hungary, and then to Poland.
While acting as a missionary in Prussia, Adalbert was murdered by a pagan mob on 23 April 997.
A few years later, he was canonised as Saint Adalbert of Prague, but his remains were kept in Gniezno, near Poznań.
Therefore, there are shrines to Vojtěch both at Prague Cathedral (whose full title has included his name since 1997) and in Gniezno, and also two skulls purported to be his, although the one in Gniezno was stolen in 1923. And he’s a patron saint of both countries.
The Church of St. Vojtěch stands in this street, and was first mentioned in writing in 1318.
Its biggest claim to fame is probably the fact that, from 1874 to 1877, an up-and-coming composer worked here (for very little money, apparently) as the church’s organist. His name was Antonín Dvořák.
Also on the street is one of the locations of the Brána jazyků (Gate of Languages) Elementary School, a reminder that schools buildings really are quite different here to those in my country of origin, and quite possibly yours too.
Named after a textbook by Comenius, the school was opened in 1906, originally as a girls’ school. Its list of former students is basically a who’s who of the Czech entertainment industry. Great pics from 1907 here.
(Not a street; thought it might have a street sign like some parks do; it doesn’t; felt like writing about it anyway)
The island was first mentioned in writing in the 1100s, when it served as a park and was called Travník (‘Lawn’). During the reign of Charles IV (1346-78), local shooters were allowed to practise here, hence the current name.
Occupied by Ferdinand I in 1547, he then returned half of it to the City of Prague in 1562. Ferdinand’s half continued to be used by the city’s guild of sharpshooters, who also held an annual festival here until the 1800s.
In 1812, this building was erected for the guild; it’s now a restaurant.
Between 1839 and 1841, a chain bridge was built here – at the time, it was the second bridge across the Vltava (after Charles).
Pretty incredible 1840 painting (by Karel Würbs) of its construction below.
It was called the Emperor Francis I Bridge, after the man you will either refer to as Francis I (the first Emperor of Austria, 1804-35) or as Francis II (the last Holy Roman Emperor, 1792-1806).
The bridge was good at connecting places – Smíchov was suddenly way less remote than it had been – but less good at tolerating large amounts of traffic.
It was closed down in 1898, and work began on a stone replacement which was also named after Francis I slash II. The opening, in 1901, was attended by Franz Joseph I.
13 years later, war would break out, a war that would ultimately result in this bridge never being named after or inaugurated by Habsburgs ever again.
In 1914, a Czechoslovak battalion was formed in Russia (pic 1) and would serve as the Russian Third Army, while France (pic 2) also permitted Czechs and Slovaks to join the Foreign Legion.
The first significant action of the Czechoslovak formations in Russia would be the Battle of Zboriv, a victory of the Russian Provisional Government against Austria-Hungary (Zboriv is about 85 km away from L’viv), in July 1917.
As a result of their success, they were given permission to recruit prisoners of war – greatly increasing their numbers – and also to be turned into a legion. An autonomous Czechoslovak legion would also be formed in France at the end of the year.
However, in November 1917, the Bolsheviks came to power and Lenin withdrew Russia from the war. Tomáš Masaryk determined that the Legion should make its way to France and continue fighting the Central Powers.
Given that the areas to the west of Russia were occupied by German soldiers, Masaryk decided that they should evacuate via that well-known midpoint between Moscow and Paris, Vladivostok.
However, relations between the Soviets – paranoid about counter-revolution – and the Czechs and Slovaks – paranoid about Communists within their ranks – meant this evacuation was unlikely to go smoothly.
In May 1918, Leon Trotsky insisted that the legionaries disarm; they refused, and fighting on several points of the Trans-Siberian Railway followed. The legionaries would even seize control of Vladivostok in July.
Meanwhile, back in Europe and North America, news of the legionnaires’ Czexploits (including capturing the places underlined in the map below) would leave a strong impression on the Allies, who became increasingly favour of giving these guys their own state.
There would be further victories in autumn 1918, but a strengthened Red Army, muted material support from the Allies and the creation of Czechoslovakia on 28 October made the soldiers want to get the hell out at last.
For this reason, they declared neutrality in 1919 (not especially pleasing their White Russian allies), signed an armistice with the Bolsheviks in February 1920, and, by September, all legionaries had finally left via Vladivostok.
When the French and Italian Legions (the latter was formed later on, in 1918, but its troops were the first to get to Czechoslovakia) returned, they promptly became involved in dealing with wars against Poland (pic 1) and Hungary (pic 2) in 1919).
The Russia-based legion, however, had been stuck there for so long that they even ended up issuing their own stamps.
If you’re still thinking about Christmas presents, Last Train Home is a computer game that only came out last month; the goal is to help the Czechoslovak troops get home from the Trans-Siberian railway.
Reviews are really good – and we’re talking internationally.
Back to the bridge, Most Legií got its name in 1919 – so well before the evacuation from Vladivostok – but the bridge was also known as Smetana Bridge during the Nazi occupation, and then as the 1 May Bridge from 1960 to 1990.
In the early days, tolls were collected on either side of the bridge; the towers used for this purpose remain.
The reliefs on its streetlamps deserve attention too.
And the view from the bridge itself? I freaking love this city.
Malostranské is the adjective to denote Malá Strana, which we’re about three days away from leaving before we head over to the other side of the river.
And a nábřeží is an embankment. The name ‘Malostranské nábřeží’ has been applied since 1905.
This was about 18 years after this quite impressive pair of residential buildings in the street were built. They’re the work of the architect Josef Schulz (1840-1917).
The embankment also gives good views of the Kampa Museum, at least so I thought until I saw how it looks from the place that will be the subject of day 91.
A šeřík is a lilac tree. Lilac trees originated in south-east Europe and Asia Minor, but are often grown in the Czech Republic for ornamental purposes.
The technical word for lilac – ‘Syringa’ – comes from the Greek for ‘pipe’; ‘lilac’ comes from the French ‘lila’, denoting the flowers’ colour.
Meanwhile, it’s believed that the somewhat different Czech word, šeřík, was derived from the Russian ‘сирень’.
Anyway, the story goes that the street was named after a very noticeable lilac tree outside number 8.
It’s very much not there now.
But this street has a habit of being named after things that aren’t there anymore – in the 19th century, it was called ‘U řetězového mostu’ / ‘By the Chain Bridge’. And, as we’ll see in a couple of days time, it hasn’t been by one of those since 1901.
What's in a Prague street name 