Čertovka may get a street sign – but it’s actually a canal which separates Kampa Island from the rest of Malá Strana.
Kampa (which is getting a post of its own soon) was created in the 12th century, when the Knights of Malta (ditto) ordered the building of the canal so that the mills of Malá Strana would have a water supply.
There were nine mills at the time; three remain.
Originally, the canal was known as Strouha, which translates as ‘gutter’ or ’stream’; the name Čertovka dates from 1892. Legend has it that a cantankerous old woman used to wash her laundry here, and shouted at a group of young men who were also there.
They took offence at this, declared her to belong to the devil, and painted seven devils on the front of her house, which then became known as U Sedmi čertů (The Seven Devils). It’s on modern-day Maltézské náměstí.
All of which is presumably much worse than anything the woman could possibly have done, because misogyny.
Čertovka was featured in both Mission: Impossible and Amadeus, as was much of the district, and now I’m going to have to sheepishly admit I’ve never seen either and need to remedy this. With views like this, you can see why it’s a popular location for filming things.
And saská is the adjective from Sasko, AKA Saxony. For those not living nearby, Saxony is the German state on the north-west border of the Czech Republic.
You may have been to its capital, Dresden (very popular with Czechs, at least prior to Prague getting its own branch of Primark in 2021).
I worked in this fascinating building in Dresden for a few days in 2017. It’s not a mosque and never was.
But I have a real soft spot for Saxony’s largest city, Leipzig, scene of supposedly Europe’s best train station, a lot of 1989-specific history, and excellent murals.
And another soft spot for hiking in Saxon Switzerland, digital detoxing and taking a grand total of one photo in eight days.
Let’s finish this not-actually-an-advert for the Saxon Tourist Board with a nice little Sorbian saying.
Zapłata dyrbi wjetša być hač dźěra literally translates as ’The patch has to be bigger than the hole’. In other words, for a solution to a problem to work, it can’t just solve a small section of it.
Alliance 90/The Greens made use of this in their election posters in 2019 (photo from DW).
In 928, Henry the Fowler (German: Heinrich der Vogler; Czech: Jindřich I. Ptáčník), Duke of Saxony and King of East Francia, who was fighting the Glomatians, a Slavic tribe, built a fortress to secure Saxony’s border, and called it Misni, after the nearby stream.
In the following year, Henry would invade Bohemia and force Wenceslas I (the good one) to pay him tribute. It was also Henry who presented Wenceslas with the remains of St Vitus (specifically his arm).
By 933, Henry had defeated the Slavs; in 965, his son and successor, Otto I – also Holy Roman Emperor – created the Margravate of Meissen in the region.
Meissen would then be fought over by Poland (including under Boleslav I) and the Holy Roman Emperor, and, in 1241, was invaded by the Mongols under Orda Khan.
Primarily a Slavic-populated area for centuries, German migration to Meissen meant that, from the 1150s onwards, the Slavs would become a minority.
By the 16th century, Meissen was known for its successful cloth industry; however, by 1700, the industry declined as English and Dutch manufacturers started to create better, cheaper goods.
But by 1710, Meissen discovered porcelain – actually the first hard-paste porcelain to be produced in Europe, and the factory founded in 1710 is still considered one of the world’s leading manufacturers, as well as one of Germany’s best-known brands.
Meissen is 25 km from Dresden and seems to be worth a visit, not least for the late Gothic Albrechtsburg. There’s a fairly astounding collection of postcards of it on here: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Category:Albrechtsburg.
When I went here to take pics, it wasn’t entirely clear where Dražického: The Square ends and Dražického: The Street begins, not helped by the fact that the latter doesn’t even get a street sign (this happens with smaller streets sometimes).
But Dražického: The Street is the kind of place where you can go and drink a beer on the pavement at midday in November and somehow convince yourself that this is both comfortable and fun.
Jan IV. z Dražic was born into a noble family around 1260.
Jan II (died 1236) and Jan III (died 1278) were bishops in Prague, so you might already have guessed what Jan IV ultimately became.
After his investiture by King Wenceslas II, he was ordained as Bishop of Prague on 10 December 1301. The bishop’s court was located where the square is now.
In 1310, Jan supported the election of another Jan/John (namely of Luxembourg) as King of Bohemia.
While the 1310s would involve a lot of close cooperation with the King, they also involved a lot of hostility from the nobility, as he objected to the Inquisition and its treatment of Dominican monks.
One Heinrich von Schönburg, who had been removed by Jan, went blabbing to Pope John XXII, who suspended him in 1318 and forced him to leave Prague.
Having been found innocent in 1326, he wouldn’t return to Bohemia until 1329, when he was about seventy years old.
Once back in Bohemia, he focused on church reform and developing the episcopal city of Roudnice nad Labem.
Roudnice also had a bridge named after him, but it was destroyed during the Thirty Years War. Here are its remnants, photographed in 1906.
He also saw to the reconstruction of St. Giles’ Church in Prague’s Old Town (coming up in about fifty posts’ time?).
Jan died in 1343 and was buried at St Vitus’ Cathedral.
If you like excellent candelabra – and you should – there’s one right here.
This is the Malá Strana Bridge Tower at the end of the street, although your eye may be drawn more to the huge crowds. Mostecká connects Charles Bridge and Malostranské náměstí, but feels more crowded than either.
However, it doesn’t seem that this was ever a quiet street. Not only was it on the Royal Route since time immemorial, but statistics produced by the city council in 1896 mentioned ‘1,700 to 1,900 light and freight cars’ passing here daily. And trams. TRAMS.
If you have the patience to stop and look, there are interesting things on this street though. The Baroque Kounic Palace has been the Embassy of Yugoslavia, FR Yugoslavia, Serbia and Montenegro, and, now, Serbia.
Meanwhile, you might think the fact that I’m posting a picture of McDonald’s on Mostecká means I’ve gone a bit mad. But read on.
That space on the right leads to Cinema 64 U Hradeb – and, would you believe, after its opening in 1964, this was possibly Prague’s best-equipped cinema.
It closed in 2002 – before the floods, and not because of them, although they certainly made things a whole lot worse. Reconstruction work started in 2015.
Letná, originally called Leteň, or Letná pole (Summer Fields), was originally an area of vineyards and gardens, first mentioned in writing in 1261, when Přemysl Otakar II, who had just been crowned, held a banquet there.
A future king, Sigismund of Luxembourg / Zikmund Lucemburský, would use Letná as the location of a military camp in 1420 during the Hussite Wars, starting a trend which other armies would follow for centuries.
It wasn’t until the late 19th century that Letná started to become settled to any real extent, as Bubeneč and Holešovice both expanded from opposite sides.
Letná was the scene of the first Czech electric railway (in 1891, as part of the Jubilee Exhibition), and of the first Prague cablecar (around the same time). Transport would get easier when the Letná tunnel was opened in 1953 (by which time the railway & cablecar were long gone).
In Communist times, Letná was used to celebrate communism on 1 May; in 1989, it would be used to demonstrate against it (successfully):
And to welcome the Pope to a non-Communist Czechoslovakia in 1990 (yes, that is a nearly three-hour video):
And, in 2019, to protest against the man indirectly responsible for Schillerka’s TikTok account (this was not the subject of the protest): https://www.bbc.com/news/world-europe-48737467
I’ve kept the story of Letná fairly superficial here, as: a) I’m going to have to write posts about Letná at some point; and b) it’s actually in Prague 7, which this street is not.
Cihelná with an á is the feminine adjective from cihelna without an á, meaning ‘brickworks’. Once upon a time, there were two tanneries here, but, in 1781, František Antonín Linhart Herget, who had purchased them, had a Baroque brickyard built in their place.
A later owner, Josef Zobel, had it rebuilt in a classicist style in 1796; a further reconstruction occurred in 1857-8. By the 20th century, the brickyard had ceased to be used as one, and was a storage space instead; part of the buildings were demolished in 1936.
Following delays due to the floods of 2002, reconstruction began in 2003. Two years later, the building would be reopened as what you know it as now – the Franz Kafka Museum.
On another note, the pub across the road, Malostranská pivnice, advertises itself as having won a Best Pub In The World prize in 2009. There’s a bit of a discrepancy between this and its online user reviews (though I went in 2020 and quite enjoyed it, so what do I know).
If you don’t feel like spending money, Cihelná is also a lovely place to feed the ducks and enjoy the view.
If you don’t want to read that: Sorbs are a Slavic ethnic group who currently live in Lusatia, which is in Saxony and Brandenburg in Germany. They were previously under Czech rule.
In 1692, two brothers from Upper Lusatia, Martin Norbert and Georg Joseph Schimon, had set up a foundation in Malá Strana, in order to support Lusatian Sorb students.
Deciding that they needed larger premises than the brick house they were using, the Schimons purchased a plot of land in 1706. However, it would take another twenty years before construction work started.
The first students moved in in 1728: two theologians, two philosophers and 15 high school students. Good relations between Saxony and the Habsburgs, and generous donations, meant that the Sorb students in Prague were exempt from tuition fees.
In 1846, a group of pupils, led by Jakob Bus, founded Serbowka, a Sorbian school and student association.
When World War I ended in 1918, and Czechoslovakia became independent, the seminar could no longer rely on donations (the Empire was gone, and Germany was about to enter its hyperinflationary era).
It was dissolved in 1922, after which Sorbian students would have to use alternative facilities in Lusatia itself. It was revived as a centre for Sorbs after WW2 (the Society of Friends of Lusatia), but was closed down in 1955, and handed over to Charles University.
It wouldn’t be until 2009 that the Ministry of Education, Youth and Sports gave the Society of Friends of Lusatia permission to use the premises again.
This plaque on the front of the building is a great opportunity to compare and contrast the Czech and Sorbian languages:
The street also includes the entrance to Vojanovy sady, reputedly Prague’s oldest park, and named after the actor Eduard Vojan, who was born on nearby Míšeňská. For somewhere so close to Charles Bridge, it’s an absolute, crowd-free gem.
However, when it opened in March 1914, it was called the Archduke Franz Ferdinand Bridge, for all the huge amount of time old Franz would still be alive to appreciate the tribute.
The bridge served to take some of the pressure off Charles Bridge, which was dangerously overloaded with people at the time (yes, even more so than now). By 1920, it would have its current name.
Originally published on X on 1 November 2023. Street name translates as ‘By the Iron Bridge’.
Before 1868, Prague only had two bridges across the Vltava. Other than the very famous one which is still there, there was the Emperor Francis I Bridge, which isn’t. It was built in 1841, and replaced in 1898 (there’ll be a post about its replacement).
In the late 1860s, two more bridges would join them: Emperor Francis Joseph I Bridge (also gone, and coming up in a later post), and Rudolf’s Footbridge / Rudolfova lávka, which started at Klárov, where this street is now.
The Rudolf in question was Rudolf, Crown Prince of Austria, born in 1858 as the eldest son of Franz Joseph I and the Empress Siri, and, therefore, heir to the Habsburg throne. Appropriately, at the other end of the bridge, the Rudolfinum would open in 1885.
The bridge was in use until 1914, when it was replaced by POST TRUNCATED SO AS TO NOT MAKE TOMORROW’S POST REDUNDANT
Here are two wonderful pictures showing how the bridge looked.
Sadly, Rudolf himself would mainly come to be known for his presumed murder-suicide pact with his mistress, Baroness Mary Vetsera, at the Mayerling hunting lodge in 1889, when he was 30, and she was just 17.
A plovárna is an outdoor swimming pool, or, for Brits of a certain age, a lido.
Until the 1780s, this was the site of a Jesuit church and its garden, inevitably closed down as a result of Josef II’s reforms.
Around 1810, one Arnošt z Pfuolu founded an outdoor swimming pool here. This was probably the first of its kind in the entire Austro-Hungarian Empire (Vienna didn’t get one until 1812).
While it was officially for the military, it was used by the public as well, until 1840, when the civilians got their own pool – the Občanská plovárna. The classicist building was designed by Josef Kranner.
You certainly get better photos from the other side of the Vltava, so expect those to appear on here in due course.
Purchased by the Municipality of Prague in 1906, the pool served its original purpose until the 1950s.
As demonstrated by this picture, the building didn’t do too well out of the 2002 floods: https://extra.cz/fotka/482544
Reconstructed in 2019, Občanská plovárna is now ‘the most beautiful event gallery in Prague’ (and, based on the photos on its site, this may well be true): https://obcanskaplovarna.cz
The summer concerts there definitely have some of the best that Czech music has to offer: https://scenanaplovarne.cz
In 1999, the pool complex gave its name to Na plovárně, a talk show on Česká Televize hosted by Marek Eben, and, while it isn’t filmed there anymore, it definitely gets a certain calibre of guest in: https://www.ceskatelevize.cz/porady/1093836883-na-plovarne/
Adolf Kosárek was born in Herálec, near (Havlíčkův) Brod, in 1830, and went to school in Kutná Hora before working as a clerk.
He did drawing and painting in his spare time, eventually attracting the attention of Friedrich Prince zu Schwarzenberg, who had become Archbishop of Prague around the same time (approximately 1850).
Schwarzenberg provided financial support which helped Kosárek to enrol at the Prague Academy of Fine Arts. Kosárek excelled here, particularly in landscape painting classes taught by Max Haushofer (pictured).
However, he never became rich from his paintings, which tended to get sold for low sums. It seems that his hard work and financial difficulties ultimately took a toll on his health.
In 1859, about a year after getting married, Kosárek died of tuberculosis. He was 29.
It would take until 1924 for an exhibition entirely devoted to his works to be held, but, nowadays, Kosárek is regarded as the father of Czech landscape painting.
Here you have ‘Lonely Landscape (Peasants; Wedding)’, ‘Autumn landscape near Pardubice’, ‘Chapel in the Woods’ and ‘Landscape with a wagon with a white sail’.
In Paris, he became engaged to Anna (later Hana) Vlčková, and changed his own name to Edvard.
In 1908, Beneš completed his studies in Dijon with a thesis on the problems faced by the Czechs in the Austro-Hungarian Empire; he graduated from Prague University the following year despite the authorities somewhat wishing he’d chosen a different topic to write about.
After graduation, he taught at the business academy, started to study law, and lectured as an associate professor at Prague University’s Faculty of Arts.
When World War I started, Beneš founded Maffie, a secret organisation aiming to overthrow the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Going into exile in France 1915, he collaborated with both Tomáš Masaryk and Milan Rastislav Štefánik.
Their cooperation would lead to the founding of the Czechoslovak National Council (in 1916) and the Czechoslovak Legion (in 1917).
When Czechoslovakia became independent in 1918, Beneš was appointed Minister of Foreign Affairs, although he didn’t return to the country until almost a year later, having represented Czechoslovakia in the negotiations that would lead to the Treaty of Versailles.
Beneš also helped to found the League of Nations, serving as a member of its council, its Vice-President, and, ultimately (1935-6), its President. He would also continue to hold his role as Minister of Foreign Affairs until 1935, with a brief stint as PM from 1921 to 1922.
In 1935, Masaryk abdicated as President of Czechoslovakia, and Beneš took his place. This was also the year in which two thirds of Sudeten German voters voted for the pro-Nazi Sudetendeutsche Partei.
In 1938, the SdP demanded autonomy for the Sudetenland under the ‘Karlsbad programme’; Beneš’s attempt at a compromise (under the ’Third Plan’: less autonomy than demanded, but still not a bad amount) was rejected, and the British government recommended that Beneš give way.
Beneš’s “Fourth Plan”, presented in September, would’ve created a Federal Czechoslovakia; the SdP rejected this too.
On 30 September, Germany, Italy, France and the UK signed the Munich Agreement, providing for the Sudetenland to be annexed by Germany.
Britain and France told Beneš that they wouldn’t assist militarily if Germany invaded Czechoslovakia – which contradicted a military agreement signed between Czechoslovakia and France in 1925 – and Beneš gave in. He resigned on 5 October and was replaced by Emil Hácha.
Beneš went into exile, first to Britain, then to the US, where he taught at the University of Chicago. He then went back to London in 1940, forming the Czechoslovak government in exile and becoming its president.
After WWII, when Czechoslovakia was restored, Beneš was, once again, confirmed as President.
He signed the Beneš decrees, the result of which was the expulsion of nearly all Germans and Hungarians on Czechslovakian territory, many of whose families had been here for centuries.
The decrees have never been repealed, and remain a source of tension to this day.
In 1946, the Communists won the elections; Beneš, believing himself to have a good relationship with Stalin, thought Czechoslovakia could remain a multi-party democracy. The February 1948 coup d’état would prove otherwise.
Already in ill health by that time, it would’ve been hard for Beneš to put up a fight. He resigned as president in June 1948, and the media started a hate campaign against him that summer. He would die of natural causes at his villa in Sezimovo Ústí in September, aged 64.
The Embankment includes the Office of the Government of the Czech Republic / Úřad vlády České republiky, housed in the Straka Academy. Its gardens are a very nice place to sit when they’re open.
And a bit further on, there’s the Chapel of St. Mary Magdalene, and, if you stand around here, you’re in the tiny part of Holešovice that’s in Prague 1 rather than Prague 7.
The street itself dates from 1931; the barracks it’s named after closed down a mere 168 years earlier, in 1763, before being converted into military accommodation in 1779.
That housing, in turn, got demolished in 1928.
For a street that’s only 120 metres long, U Bruských kasáren certainly has a fair few things you can say about it.
Firstly, as it’s next to the Office of the Government of the Czech Republic, it’s a favourite congregation place for those who want this government to resign. They seem to have permanent residence here.
Secondly, the House of Body Culture (Domu kultury těla), opened in 1909, used to house a swimming pool, and also Prague’s first sauna. It’s no longer in use and could do with a bit of love.
Finally, you’ll probably know that Klárov is the location of Malostranská metro station, opened in 1978 – but what’s really interesting is the story of Klárov metro station, which, yes, was meant to be on U Bruských kasáren.
Built between 1952 and 1960 as part of the envisaged metro system, and also serving as a military shelter for politicians, it never formed part of the actual metro when that came in the 1970s, because it was too deep.
Nowadays, it’s the technical centre for Prague’s municipal transport company (DPP). Who probably have to deal with Team Resign every time they walk through this door.
Quite hard to imagine crowds of tourists storming out of here, isn’t it?
Alois Klar (no á) was born in Úštěk in 1763. He went to school in Litoměřice, and then went to Prague to study languages, graduating in 1782.
Four years after that, he became a professor back in Litoměřice, before returning to Prague University after being appointed professor of Greek and classical literature there.
Klar also established a scholarship scheme for talented visual artists.
In 1807, Klar also set up an educational institute for blind children in Hradčany. He would then be motivated to establish an institute for the care and employment of blind adults.
In the spring of 1832, he received a financial donation from Maria Anna of Savoy, Empress of Austria, and pushed hard for others to make a monetary contribution. Emperor Francis I also donated a plot of land, where Klárov is today.
Sadly, Klar would not live to experience the buildings of the institute for the blind (Klarův ústav slepců) being constructed, as he died shortly afterwards, in 1833.
Fulfilling its original purpose until the mid-20th century, the building is now the home of the Czech Geological Survey.
Klárov also includes this seven-metre memorial to the Czech anti-Nazi resistance in WW2, created by sculptor Vladimír Preclík and unveiled in 2008.
There’s also the Winged Lion Memorial (Památník Okřídleného lva), created by British sculptor Colin Spofforth and unveiled in 2014 by Nicholas Soames, grandson of Winston Churchill, dedicated to those Czechs and Slovaks who served in Britain’s Royal Air Force during the War.
Finally, in the ‘not here anymore’ category, Rudolph’s Footbridge / Rudolfova lávka was here from 1868 to 1914, and was, at the time, the fourth bridge across the Vltava in Prague.
They were given a reconstruction in 1835-7, and have had their current name since then.
They’re also less numerous – 121 versus 220 – but the views are good (there would be better ones if I hadn’t been faced by an onslaught of 3,753,446 tourists at this particular moment).
The steps also have a song dedicated to them, written and sung by the multi-talented Karel Hašler (1879-1941, killed at Mauthausen due to his patriotic songs):
In short, a beautiful maiden walks up the steps every evening, but with a man other than the singer. Sad face.
A statue of Hašler was inaugurated on the steps in 2009:
This 1967 version by Waldemar Matuška is a great opportunity to see some colour footage of Prague:
An opyš is ‘a narrow ridge rising from a flat hill into a valley’.
It’s not entirely clear how the word came about; there are those who believe that the word originally meant ‘tail’ (ocas in modern Czech).
Anyway, Opyš has become the name given to the lower part of the hill on which Prague Castle stands.
It also gave its name to a vineyard whose vines were supposedly tended by St Wenceslas / Václav himself.
The vineyard was revived in the early 2000s, and, as a tribute to Wenceslas, is now known as Svatováclavská vinice.
There’s a nice view of it from Klárov.
While Na Opyši itself is a nice little alternative for those not wanting to subject themselves to the hordes of tourists coming down the castle steps (more on those tomorrow).
Since February 2022, number 2 in the street has hosted Kunsthalle Praha, a private art gallery that has a pretty great selection of exhibitions: https://www.kunsthallepraha.org/en
Housed in a former transformation station for the city’s electricity works – named the Zenger Transformation Station after Czech meteorologist and physicist Václav Zenger (1830-1908), its reconstruction won the 2022 Czech National Architecture Award.
What's in a Prague street name 
