What's in a Prague street name

Every street in Prague, one by one.

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I could talk about myself for ages, or I could point out that https://english.radio.cz/ed-ley-englishman-recording-stories-pragues-streets-one-one-8806941 is over two years old but still largely stands (other than the Twitter links).

  • Prague 1, day 47: Valdštejnská

    Originally published on X on 23 October 2023.

    You can read the long, devious, side-swapping story of Albrecht z Valdštejna here: https://whatsinapraguestreetname.com/2024/09/08/prague-1-day-46-valdstejnske-namesti/.

    But I’m also going to suggest that you take a look at the story of Johannes Kepler: https://whatsinapraguestreetname.com/2024/09/08/prague-1-day-19-keplerova/.

    Because, in 1608, a young Valdštejn was in Prague and, as was customary for anyone of importance at the time, got a horoscope from Kepler (although he never met Kepler and sent an intermediary on his behalf).

    Kepler was sceptical about astrology, but was even more sceptical about Rudolph II’s ability to pay him (he was the court astrologer and mathematician), so these horoscopes were a nice – and necessary – side-job.

    Working with nothing but Valdštejn’s name and date of birth, Kepler’s horoscope was remarkably accurate, describing his subject as intelligent, antisocial, ambitious to the point of being inappropriate, suspicious of others, incapable of love, greedy and cruel.

    One wonders if Valdštejn would own a social media network or two if he had been born in the 20th century.

    Kepler also predicted that Valdštejn would marry his way into a lot of money, and would become very popular, but also make himself a lot of enemies.

    Valdštejn would remain obsessed with horoscopes (i.e. with himself) for the rest of his life. In early 1634, Kepler predicted that Valdštejn was about to enter a period of particularly big disagreements with those around him.

    Given he was killed by his own men on 23 February, it’s safe to say Kepler wasn’t wrong about this either.

    Number 6, U Bílého beránka (The White Ram), is a Neo-Baroque villa built in 1917. It hosts the Belgian Embassy.

    Whereas next door’s Fürstenberg Palace is somewhat older – dating back to 1580 – and has been leased to the Polish government for use as their embassy since 1922. It also has what I imagine to be one of the greatest office views in the world.

    Kolovratský Palace, at number 10, is one of the (many) seats of the Czech Parliament.

    While number 14, Pálffy Palace, is used by the Prague Conservatory.

    And number 20, U zlatého slunce (The Golden Sun), hosts the National Pedagogical Museum and Library of J.A. Comenius, devoted to the history of Czech education.

    On the other side of the street, there’s Valdštejnská jízdárna, a historical riding school now used by the National Gallery.

    There’s a lot of reconstruction right now, hence these photos being terrible.

  • Prague 1, day 46: Valdštejnské náměstí

    Originally published on X on 22 October 2023.

    Albrecht Václav Eusebius z Valdštejna – usually called Albrecht von Wallenstein in English texts – was born in the Heřmanice Fortress, near Jaroměř, in 1583.

    His father was a nobleman who had fallen on hard times, and, by the age of eleven, Albrecht had become an orphan and had to go and live with his mother’s side of the family.

    In 1600, Albrecht quit his studies, with a list of achievements including getting involved in brawls, nearly beating his servant to death, and allowing a local murderer to escape.

    He went travelling around Europe and continued his studies in Italy.

    Returning to Bohemia, he fought in the army of Emperor Rudolph II, and converted to Catholicism, possibly realising, in these Counter-Reformation times, that being a Catholic would be more useful career-wise than being a Protestant.

    In 1609, Valdštejn married a wealthy young widow, Lucretia of Víckov, whose first husband had owned Holešov, Lukov, Rymice and Vsetín – all of which passed to Valdštejn when she died in 1614.

    So rich that he was able to employ 200 horsemen, he allowed Ferdinand of Styria – later Ferdinand II – to use these in the Friuli War against Venice in 1617.

    The Estates Uprising in Bohemia would break out in the following year; the Estates didn’t want Ferdinand as their king, and elected Frederick V of the Palatinate instead.

    In 1619, the rebel Estates seized Valdśtejn’s lands; he would recover these in 1620, as a reward for his faithfulness to Ferdinand, and his contribution to the Battle of Bílá Hora (he didn’t fight himself, but his cuirassiers, hired from the Netherlands, did).

    Also gaining properties confiscated from Protestants, Valdštejn inherited the estate of Frýdlant in 1625, and, from 1627, practically ruled this as a separate country, the Duchy of Frýdlant, with its own noblemen and its own coins.

    Setting up his capital in Jičín, Valdštejn would also see to that city’s development (https://whatsinapraguestreetname.com/2023/02/26/prague-3-day-158-jicinska/).

    By 1625, Valdštejn’s wealth was so great that he was able to not only make loans to Ferdinand II, but also provide him with an entire army, eventually consisting of about 50,000 men.

    While Valdštejn had multiple successes in the Thirty Years’ War (and presumably made himself hugely hated amongst the Poles, Swedes, Danes and Germans in the process), Ferdinand suspected that he wanted to take over the entire Holy Roman Empire, and dismissed him in 1630.

    It would be all of two years before Valdštejn’s services were required again, though, but, in 1633, Valdštejn decided to turn against the Habsburgs, and entered into negotiations without them with the enemy (incl. Saxony, Sweden, Brandenburg and France).

    In February 1634, Ferdinand signed a patent, ordering that Valdštejn be removed; he was charged with high reason in the same month.

    Hoping to meet up with the Swedes, who he had been making overtures to, and thinking he’d be safer the further he was from Prague, Valdštejn escaped from Plzeň to Cheb on 23 February.

    However, two days later, he was assassinated by some Scottish and Irish officers in his force (showing just how pan-European the Thirty Years’ War had become).

    A trilogy of plays by the German writer Friedrich Schiller (1759-1805) – Wallensteins Lager, Die Piccolomini, and Wallensteins Tod – are commonly known as Wallenstein.

    They were on my suggested reading list at university; I never read them. Proof, once again, that we should all do our undergrad degrees twenty years later than we do.

    On the square, Wallenstein Palace was commissioned by Valdštejn in the 1620s, and would remain in the family’s hands until 1945. It now hosts the Czech Senate.

    The Aueršper Palace, at number 1, was built in the late 17th century. It’s now used by the Czech Parliament, which seems to have access to more buildings than even Valdštejn did.

    While Ledebour Palace, at number 3, was created in the 1600s after the merger of five individual houses. In communist Czechoslovakia, it hosted the Ministry of Information; it now hosts the National Monument Institute, which aims to preserve monuments across the country.

  • Prague 1, day 45: U Zlaté Studně

    Originally published on X on 21 October 2023.

    U Zlaté Studně translates as ‘At the Golden Well’.

    ‘So, where’s the well?’, I heard you ask. And, erm, it isn’t. Or, at least, not anymore, and I don’t know when/if it existed.

    Although an actual well isn’t here, if you zoom in on the façade of this building, also called U Zlaté Studně, you may see something.

    (Quality of photo entirely indicative of the fact that I took photos for this thread before I wrote it)

    In the Book of John, Jesus, on what is now the Third Sunday in Lent, went to a town called Sychar, and found a well. He was thirsty, so he headed there for water.

    A woman from Samaria – i.e. a Samaritan (Samaritánka, if we’re being Czech about it) was there, wanting to draw water.

    Their conversation is the topic of this gospel classic, which was also covered by Nick Cave, Bob Dylan and Peter, Paul and Mary:

    And there’s even a Czech version of this number, from 1978, although it’s not about a well and the nameless woman is now called Ráchel:

    Anyway, said hotel is now supposedly one of the greatest in the world, having been voted as such in 2011 (3rd best in the world, and best in Europe, in 2016, too): https://goldenwell.cz

    And you just *know* that somebody wrote this after getting incredibly exasperated with one too many lost tourists:

    I have to post the Peter, Paul and Mary version, too, because it’s just great:

  • Prague 1, day 44: Tomášská

    Originally published on X on 20 October 2023.

    The earliest mention of a church round here dates from 1228. In 1285, King Václav II invited a group of Augustine monks to Prague and decided they needed a new, better church in the same location. It was devoted to Thomas the Apostle (https://whatsinapraguestreetname.com/2024/09/07/prague-1-day-8-na-baste-sv-tomase/).

    The altar was consecrated in 1315, and it would take a mere ninety years until construction of the church was complete. And, for all that hard work, it got burned down by the Hussites in 1420.

    It also got burnt down in 1520 and 1541, after which it was rebuilt in Renaissance style. It was reconsecrated in 1593, and then rebuilt again in the early 18th century.

    It’s the only parish church in Malá Strana.

    From an artistic point of view, its insides can be described as ‘quite good’: take a look for yourself: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Category:Interior_of_the_Church_of_Saint_Thomas_(Mal%C3%A1_Stran%C3%A1)

    It used to include The Martyrdom of St Thomas by Peter Paul Rubens (painted 1637-8), but that’s now in the National Gallery.

    It still includes this 1602 painting of St Sebastian by Bartholomeus Spranger: https://www.pubhist.com/w42628

    As well as four paintings by the most important early Baroque Czech painter, Karel Škréta (https://whatsinapraguestreetname.com/2024/02/18/prague-2-day-34-skretova/).

    In 2022, the church was the location for the funeral of legendary Czech singer Hana Zagorová:

    Tomášská was once lived in (and died in) by Austrian-Bohemian composer Václav Tomášek (1774-1850), apparently known as ‘The Musical Pope of Prague’, which, for all I know, could actually be the most savage putdown you’ve heard all year.

    I took a photo of this building on Tomášská because I liked it. Sometimes that’s all the reason you need.

  • Prague 1, day 43: Sněmovní

    Originally published on X on 19 October 2023.

    Buckle up, kids, this one probably has a link to many of your least favourite Czechs. Because sněmovna is short for Poslanecká sněmovna, or ‘Chamber of Deputies’.

    In 1650, one Countess Markéta Anna Thunová purchased a building here, and the family bought two more in 1662 and 1694.

    Combined and reconstructed, they came to be known as Thun Palace. If you’re confused, you should be – that’s also the name of the British Embassy, which is really just a matter of metres away: https://whatsinapraguestreetname.com/2024/09/08/prague-1-day-41-thunovska/

    From 1779 until 1794 (when it was ruined by fire), the palace hosted an opera company.

    In 1801, the similarly-named Anna Marie Thunová sold the building to the Czech Estates, who used it as office space for several decades before, in 1861, it became the Chamber of Deputies.

    In 1918, it was here that Tomáš Garrigue Masaryk was proclaimed President, and, in the years after that, Thun Palace was the meeting place of the Senate, rather than the Parliament.

    Serving as government ministries in the 1950s and 1960s, the building became the seat of the Czech National Council in 1968, and, since 1993, it’s been the Czech Chamber of Deputies.

    Across the road at number 3 is Kolowrat Palace, which hosts the Parliamentary Institute, a scientific, information and educational centre for the Chamber of Deputies, some of whose members would, let’s be fair, benefit from a bit more science, information and education.

    While number 5, Lažanský Palace, was lived in by writer, artist and director Jiří Brdečka for a couple of decades before his death in 1982.

    And number 7 is the Honorary Consulate of Monaco.

    (For those wondering – i.e. no-one – the Czech consulate’s address in Monaco is 15, av. de Grande-Bretagne, MC 98000 Monte-Carlo)

    Number 13, the Schützen Palace, has an impressive history but is now looking decidedly out of use, and could do with a bit of love (or an investor who is so rich that he/she is no longer familiar with the concept).

    Whereas Fünfkirchen House, at the top of the street, is probably most famous for giving the street its original name, and fans of Ye Olde Prague Street Signs will enjoy seeing another one here.

    It was also the birthplace of Gelasius Dobner (1719-1790), Enlightenment historian and founder of modern critical Czech historiography.

    He has a street too, but don’t expect a thread on that just yet – it’s in Prague 17.

    But do take this as your confirmation that I *totally* intend to get on to Prague 17 one day.

  • Prague 1, day 42: Zámecká

    Originally published on the other place on 18 October 2023.

    A short one today, as befits a short street (only six addresses or thereabouts).

    Until the 19th century, the street was known as Ke stupňům (‘Towards the stairs’), with said stairs being these: https://whatsinapraguestreetname.com/2024/09/08/prague-1-day-40-zamecke-schody/).

    From 1829, it had the same name as the steps did – Nové zámecké schody – or was also named after its location directly under them (Pod Novými zámeckými schody).

    In 1870, the street got its current name. Zámecká is an adjective from zámek – i.e., a castle.

    I’m sensing somebody is going to ask in the comments what the difference is between a zámek and a hrad, so:

    A hrad is a fortified, fenced-off place, whereas a zámek is also closed off, of course, but it doesn’t serve a military purpose and is generally just a very nice place to live.

    Hrady were more of a thing in the Middle Ages, whereas we reached Peak Zámek Era in the 17th and 18th centuries.

    Obviously, the difference between these two things can be quite imperceptible – which is probably why this street refers to a zámek and not a hrad.

    Another difference is that my Mac doesn’t insist on repeatedly changing zámek to ‘hard’.

    But when it changes ‘hrady’ to ‘Hardy’, at least I have an excuse to listen to one of my all-time favourite songs:

  • Prague 1, day 41: Thunovská

    Originally published on X on 17 October 2023.

    In the 1300s, this area was given the hugely creative and cryptic name of ‘Pod stupni Pražského hradu’ (Under the steps of Prague Castle), and you can read about those steps here: https://whatsinapraguestreetname.com/2024/09/08/prague-1-day-40-zamecke-schody/

    At some point, the name ‘Kavčí hora’ also appears, which will be hugely distracting to anyone who has worked with/at Česká televize. I think this translates as ‘Jackdaw hill’ but will gladly accept corrections.

    From the 18th century, the lower part of the street was called Sklenářská (Glassmakers’ Street), the middle part was called Farní (Parish), and the upper part was called Thunovská. They’ve all been one street since 1870.

    There’s been a building where the present-day Thun Palace is located since at least the 1300s. After the Thirty Years’ War (1618-48), it was acquired by one Walter Leslie, a Scottish soldier and diplomat.

    This was a reward from Emperor Ferdinand II for Leslie’s role in killing General Albrecht von Wallenstein, who there will be a lot about in one of this week’s threads.

    In 1659, Leslie sold the palace to one Guidobald von Thun und Hohenstein, Prince-Bishop of Salzburg.

    It went through many modifications in the decades that followed (in order: baroque / classicist / classicist / classicist / English Gothic).

    In 1919, the British moved in and made it their Embassy – which it still is.

    This also explains the sculpture of a certain Mr Churchill outside.

    I haven’t been indoors since 2007, back when you still had to renew your passport in person. The lady there told me that my old passport was in a terrible state and that I should be more careful in future. I responded like a ten-year-old but acknowledge she was probably right.

    Thunovská also includes Palác Věžníků (the Věžníks were a noble family which died out in the 18th century). In the early days of Czechoslovakia, it was the German Embassy, and also used to host the Czechoslovak Red Cross.

    Then there’s the Palace of the Lords of Hradec – also owned by the Thun family at one point – which was once lived in by Alfons Mucha.

    It’s currently owned by the Italian government, and is part of their embassy complex (the main address of the embassy is just next door, on Nerudova): https://whatsinapraguestreetname.com/2024/09/08/prague-1-day-37-nerudova/.

  • Prague 1, day 40: Zámecké schody

    Originally published on X on 16 October 2023.

    You’ll have been down these (if you planned your sightseeing round Prague sensibly), or up them (if you didn’t).

    Back in the Middle Ages, there was a road here, aptly called Strmá cesta (Steep Road).

    At some point, these were replaced by the steps (which have basically had the same form since the 1600s).

    They’ve had their name for most of this time, except between 1829 and 1870, when they were known as the Nové zámecké schody (New Castle Stairs).

    They were given that name to distinguish them from the Staré zámecké schody (Old Castle Stairs), which should be covered in the next 10-20 posts. And which are actually newer than these, because life doesn’t always make sense.

    There are 220 of these old-new steps, covering a height of almost 37 metres.

  • Prague 1, day 39: Karmelitská

    Originally published on X on 13 October 2023.

    This story starts in Mount Carmel, a mountain range on the northern coast of Israel in which the city of Haifa is located.

    In the 13th century, a group of men settled here and founded the Brothers of the Blessed Virgin Mary of Mount Carmel, living in solitude, poverty and prayer.

    Forced out by the Saracens in 1238, they moved (back) to Europe, and the order gradually lost importance and prestige.

    One Teresa Sánchez de Cepeda Dávila y Ahumada, better known as Teresa of Ávila, established the Convento de San José  in her home town in 1562, and founded a new order fully dedicated to poverty.

    The Discalced Carmelites were established as a separate grouping in 1580, and this seems like a very good time to confess that it was early Shakira who taught me that ‘discalced’ means ‘barefoot’. Gracias, Shak.

    In 1624, the Carmelites arrived at an already-existing monastery in Prague (whose Lutheran inhabitants had obviously been forced out after the Battle of Bílá Hora) and expanded it significantly. It’s on this street, and this is its church (at number 9).

    The church’s most famous ‘inhabitant’ is the Pražské Jezulátko, or Infant Jesus of Prague, supposedly once the property of Teresa and donated to the Carmelite friars in 1628: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Category:Infant_Jesus_of_Prague#/media/File:Child_Jesus_of_Prague_(original_statue)_(crop).jpg

    He’s got a cracking wardrobe, too. Quite jealous: https://www.pragjesu.cz/oblekani-jezulatka/

    In 1784, the monastery was abolished as part of Joseph II’s reforms (see also: 3,286 other posts in this series). The altar and its poster boy didn’t get repaired until a century later, while the Carmelites moved back in in 1993.

    Another church-monastery combo on Karmelitská – that of Mary Magdalene – was also cancelled at the time, but now hosts the Czech Museum of Music.

    Whereas Rohan Palace, across the road, is resided in by the Ministry of Education, Youth and Sports of the Czech Republic.

    Lažanský Palace, not to be confused with the building of the same name which hosts Cafe Slavia, is the District Court for Prague-West. Despite this very much not being Prague-West.

    And Vrtbovský Palace hosts a garden which looks like it could be one of Prague 1’s best-kept secrets, but this idiot didn’t have any cash with him and wasn’t able to pay the entry fee to prove this.

    Finishing this thread off with an ‘I get to live in a city which looks like this’ moment.

  • Prague 1, day 38: Malostranské náměstí

    Originally published on X on 12 October 2023.

    In 1257, Přemysl Otakar II founded a town here, just below the castle, and gave it the Latin name of Nova civitas sub castro Pragensi (New City under Prague Castle), or just Nova civitas, or – and this is where you may get confused if you’re a Praguer – Nové Město.

    The district (actually its own town until 1784) was later known as the Menší Město pražské (Lesser Prague Town), before gaining its current name, presumably to avoid confusion with the Nové Město which had sprung up across the river in 1348.

    The Square, meanwhile, has upper and lower parts which you’ve be forgiven for thinking were entirely separate streets. And even after all this time in Prague, I still find it mind-blowing how much there is to see here.

    The western front of the square is taken up by the Liechtenstein Palace, the expropriation of which (in 1945) is one of the reasons why Liechtenstein didn’t establish diplomatic relations with the Czech Republic (or Slovakia) until 2009.

    Formerly the headquarters of the Political Centre of the Communist Party of the Czech Republic, it’s now the Music and Dance Faculty of the Academy of Performing Arts.

    Hartig Palace – which was purchased by one Terezie Hartigová in 1735, seemingly no relation to Josef Hartig of Koněv Gets Kancelled fame – hosts the Academy’s rectorate.

    The Holy Trinity Column (Sloup Nejsvětější Trojice) was built out of gratitude to whoever is up there above us for helping to avert the plague in 1713.

    Those railings around it could be to do with the lightning damage it suffered a few months ago: https://www.idnes.cz/praha/zpravy/praha-mala-strana-morovy-sloup-poskozeni-boure.A230818_082511_praha-zpravy_vich

    Separating the two parts of the square is St. Nicholas Church (1740-55), built on the decision of the Jesuits on the site of a former Gothic parish church.

    Its proximity to the US, West German and Yugoslavian embassies meant that the communists used it as an observatory.

    Moving on to the Lower Square, Grömling Palace used to be the site of Cafe Radetzky, a favourite of the intellectuals of Prague (including Jan Neruda). If they were to go there now, they’d be faced with the first ever Czech Starbucks (opened in 2008).

    Smiřický Palace is where, in 1618, Albrecht Smiřický convened a secret meeting of anti-Habsburg Czechs (we know how well that went). It’s now part of the Chamber of Deputies. And is a stunner.

    Parliament also makes use of Šternberk Palace (which you can see a tiny part of in this picture) and Velikovský House (which you can see much more of).

    Kaiserštejn Palace, acquired by Česká spořitelna in 1840, became the seat of the Czechoslovak Chamber of Commerce and Industry, and then its Czech-only equivalent, before being reacquired by the bank. It’s used for conferences and weddings and the like.

    In the same block is Malostranská beseda, which served as the Town Hall until 1784. One of the cultural centres of Malá Strana, it has a pub, a restaurant and club. It was also where the Jára Cimrman Theatre first operated (in 1867).

    Any of these buildings – and others I haven’t even mentioned – could form their own thread. As this one’s already quite long, here are some brilliant pics of the square (I especially love the 1950s/60s-looking ones seemingly taken by a Hungarian): https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Category:Malostransk%C3%A9_n%C3%A1m%C4%9Bst%C3%AD_(Prague)

  • Prague 1, day 37: Nerudova

    Originally published on X on 11 October 2023.

    We’re very much in ‘your friends and family who only visited Prague once have walked along here’ territory now.

    Jan Nepomuk Neruda was born on Újezd in Malá Strana in 1834. Four years later, his dad opened up a shop at U Dvou slunců (The Two Suns) on Ostruhová street – which is today’s Nerudova.

    An ostruh is a spur – and these were produced on the street once upon a time.

    He and his mother moved to another house on the street, U tří černých orlů (Three Black Eagles), when his father died. Neruda would live with her until her death in 1869.

    Quitting his law studies, he started to work for local newspapers, writing for, amongst others, Tagesbote aus Böhmen, Prager Morgenpost, Čas and Hlas (being a member of the editorial staff at the latter two).

    In 1858, the Májovci – a group of writers taking their name from Karel Hynek Mácha’s poem Máj (https://whatsinapraguestreetname.com/2024/07/07/prague-2-day-62-machova/) – published their first almanac. Nerudova was one of the key contributors.

    When Hlas merged with Národní listy in 1865, Neruda became the resident columnist. His columns on Prague society would lead to a five-volume series of books, Fejetony (volume four was actually about Paris, and volume five was also about his travels).

    He also wrote poetry which largely fell on deaf ears until a couple of decades after his death, translated Hungarian works into Czech, and was an avid collector of coins.

    Sadly, his columns also betray significant anti-Semitism, which may be one reason why, when the Nazis occupied Bohemia and Moravia, they changed the German name of the street but kept the Czech one as it was.

    Neruda never married (he’s pictured with his first love, Anna Holinová), struggled financially for much of his life, and developed both misanthropy and an addiction to alcohol.

    In 1888, he slipped on ice and shattered his kneecap, and, while he continued to write for Národní listy, he worked exclusively in *puts on best Czech accent from March 2020* home office mode after that.

    He died in 1891, aged 57, and is buried at Vyšehrad.

    Here is one of his most famous poems, put to music by Radůza in 2007:

    Many believe that Nobel Prize-winning Chilean poet Pablo Neruda chose his pseudonym after Jan Neruda, but I wonder how likely it is that the latter’s work would have been available in translation in Chile prior to the former adopting the name pseudonym around 1920.

    In the ‘houses on Nerudova that Neruda didn’t live in’ corner, Bretfeld Palace (no. 35) used to be a social centre, where its founder (and rector of Charles University), Josef Bretfeld (1729-1820), welcomed, among others, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart and Giacomo Casanova.

    Morzin Palace, at number 5, has hosted the Romanian Embassy since 1925, and includes a plaque to Michael the Brave / Mihai Viteazul, one of the country’s greatest national heroes.

    And just opposite, Kolovrat Palace has hosted the Italians since 1924 (1924-5 clearly being big years for embassy-founding).

    I read that the interior is kind of buggered by recent renovations, but I don’t have photographic evidence.

    Kinský Palace, at number 15, was owned by the Ministry of Defence in the late 20th century, and now acts as accommodation for members of parliament.

    Žižkov had its own Nerudova running concurrently with this one until 1947: https://whatsinapraguestreetname.com/2023/01/14/prague-3-day-136-jezkova/.

  • Prague 1, day 36: Tržiště

    Originally published on X on 10 October 2023.

    Until the Middle Ages, this was the location of a stream, flowing from Strahov to the Vltava.  This was then replaced with a street – Vlašská (https://whatsinapraguestreetname.com/2024/09/08/prague-1-day-31-vlasska/).

    Then, in the late 1700s, the marketplace on Malostranské náměstí was moved to here. 

    And – as you might be guessing if you don’t know already – a tržiště is a marketplace.  And this became its own street.

    However, it took until 1870 for the street to get its current name – iterations in place before then included ‘Nový trh’ (New Market), ‘Novotržní’ (ditto but an adjective), ‘Vaječný trh’ (Egg Market) and ‘Selský trh’ (Salt Market).

    As befits a long-ish street in Malá Strana, Tržiště is not without its fair share of interesting buildings.

    Number 15, Schönborn Palace, was built in the mid-1650s, and, in 1925, was purchased by some entity apparently known as the United States Government for USD 117,000.  It’s been their Embassy ever since.

    Next door, number 13, AKA Vratislav Palace, hosts the Irish Embassy and one of the 33 embassies that the Republic of Kosovo currently has around the world.

    Finally, U Ježíška (number 19) is apparently the site of a former nunnery. It was lived in by a young František Palacký (https://whatsinapraguestreetname.com/2024/08/31/prague-2-day-145-palackeho-namesti/) when he first arrived in Prague and is now the site of Alchymist, possibly the best located hotel I can think of.

    Just adding this photo to the thread to show that, even in Malá Strana, you can find a bit of peace and quiet if you know where to look (and this was taken at a weekend).

  • Prague 1, day 35: Břetislavova

    Originally published on X on 9 October 2023.

    And, today, I give you options.

    OPTION 1

    Břetislav was born around 1002, the son of Oldřich and a woman who was not Oldřich’s wife (at least at the time).

    Dad (https://x.com/ed__ley/status/ed__ley/status/1618142655611047939…) became Duke of Bohemia in 1012, deposing (and blinding*) his brother Jaromír.

    * You’re welcome for the reminder that we haven’t got worse, we just haven’t got better.

    Father and son would manage to take back Moravia from the Poles in either 1019 and 1029, and Břetislav moved to Olomouc with his wife, Jitka ze Schweinfurtu, whom he had kidnapped from a monastery, because apparently being illegitimate makes you have to do these things.

    In 1033 Oldřich was deposed, imprisoned and replaced by Jaromír. In 1034, Jaromír was deposed, imprisoned and replaced by Oldřich. But Oldřich would die in the same year.

    Perhaps sensing that being Duke of Bohemia was f**king awful, Jaromír had been offered the position a third time upon Oldřich’s death, but refused in favour of Břetislav. And got murdered a year later anyway. Jesus.

    Once in power, Břetislav focused on getting himself some Polish territory – in 1039, he sacked Gniezno, from where he obtained the remains of Adalbert of Prague (Vojtěch) and brought them back home.

    The Polish royals were forced to move from Gniezno to Kraków, so we can kind of say that Břetislav had an effect on the Central European tourist industry which has lasted to this very day.

    However, if you have a talent, there’s always somebody who’ll get annoyed, so Henry III, Holy Roman Emperor, thinking Břetislav was a bit too good at this reclaiming Polish cities thing, invaded Bohemia in 1040.

    Břetislav’s troops gave him the what for at Brůdek (in the Šumava).

    In 1041, however, Henry tried again, with a lot more success, besieging Prague Castle. Břetislav was forced to pledge allegiance to Henry, who had realised that someone who is good in battle is a useful ally to have.

    Břetislav died in 1055 in Chrudim (https://whatsinapraguestreetname.com/2023/06/24/prague-3-day-177-chrudimska/) while planning to invade Hungary. He’s buried in Prague Castle.

    OPTION 2

    Number 306/8 was once a pub called U Břetislavů. Which it definitely isn’t now: https://www.pamatkovykatalog.cz/dum-u-bileho-johanesa-15532173

    It also turns out that Prague had at least one other Břetislavova until 1937: https://whatsinapraguestreetname.com/2023/02/26/prague-3-day-148-ondrickova/

    BONUS MATERIAL

    From the 14th century, the street was called V rámích soukenických (‘Drapery frames’), which sounds very grand in English but is meant to refer to tools used to stretch cloth products (please comment if you know what these are actually called in English).

    Then, from about 1600, it was known as Truhlářská (a ‘truhlář’ is a ‘joiner’), before getting its current name in 1870.

  • Prague 1, day 34: Jánský vršek

    Originally published on X on 3 October 2023.

    A vršek is the upper part of something, or a small hill.

    And if you want to know you Jan was, take a quick look at day 33: https://whatsinapraguestreetname.com/2024/09/08/prague-1-day-33-janska/.

    So this thread isn’t *too* brief, here’s one of the rare old-school German-language street signs you find round here:

    Jánský vršek also formed part of the annual Pražské schody (Prague Stairs) cycling race, where cyclists rode down 190 stairs. And did so again. And again. For an hour plus one circle.

    This seems to have been paused since 2019, given the official website is down and the event’s wallpaper on Facebook is currently this:

    Here’s some clips of the 2018 event, including Jánský vršek:

  • Prague 1, day 33: Jánská

    Originally published on X on 1 October 2023.

    This part of Malá Strana used to be a separate settlement called Obora (meaning ‘enclosure’ or ‘forest’). It was first mentioned in 1278, but a sanctuary had already been founded here the century before that.

    That first mention in 1278 occurred because, at the time, Bohemia was hit by a devastating famine which would last until 1282, and the church grounds were the scene of mass graves for the victims.

    The name of the church was Kostel svatého Jana Křtitele v Oboře – The Church of John the Baptist in Obora.

    First mentioned as a parish church in 1363, the church became deserted around 1400, and it wouldn’t be until 1546 that the Utraquists (https://whatsinapraguestreetname.com/2022/11/28/prague-3-day-100-kalisnicka/) purchased it.

    This is Middle Ages Prague, of course, so it won’t be surprising to learn that Obora was burned down twice – once in 1354, and again by the Hussites in 1419.

    Proper renovation would start in 1626, but the parish would cease to exist by the end of the Thirty Years’ War in 1648, the year in which Obora officially became part of Malá Strana.

    Joseph II’s reforms led to the church being closed down in 1784, and sold off two years later, soon being converted into a residential building.

    Jánská contains the back ends of buildings whose façades we’ll get to when we reach Nerudova. Even without the house fronts (or perhaps because they’re elsewhere), views are quite beautiful.

    With a special mention for this one, which is quite something.

  • Prague 1, day 32: Šporkova

    Originally published on X on 30 September 2023.

    Once upon a time, there was a Renaissance house in this street, owned by, amongst others, the House of Martinice, a noble family who claimed to have originated from the ancient Vršovci clan.

    A descendant of that family, Heinrich Clam-Martinic, would end up being one of the last Prime Ministers of the Austro-Hungarian Empire (he held the position for six months from 1916 to 1917).

    Later in the 17th century, the house was given a Baroque makeover, followed by an even more significant one in 1723-6.

    The book I have in front of me says the building was owned by one Count Johann Karl von Sporck (1722-1790), and has been known as Šporkův palác ever since.

    I have no reason to refute this, but it’s interesting that the blue plaque in the first post refers to František Antonín hrabě Špork / Franz Anton von Sporck (1662-1738), who I assume was a relative but haven’t been able to work out exactly which one.

    We do know that Franz Anton was a big deal, though, largely thanks to the Habsburgs and their insistence on dispossessing Protestants and giving their property to Catholics instead after Bílá Hora (1620).

    He inherited enough properties from his family to be able to acquire the village of Kuks (near Hradec Králové) and turn it into a properly Baroque spa resort (largely destroyed by a flood in 1740).

    Heading back to Prague 1, Šporkův palác became the property of the Congregation of the Sisters of Mercy of St. Charles Borromeo in the late 19th century – and still is.

    Just next door is the Vlašský špitál, which is best explained by pointing you back to yesterday’s https://whatsinapraguestreetname.com/2024/09/08/prague-1-day-31-vlasska/. Fittingly, this is now the location of the Italian Cultural Institute.

  • Prague 1, day 31: Vlašská

    Originally published on X on 29 September 2023.

    Way, way, back (as in ‘invading Macedonia in 270 BC’ way back), there was a Celtic tribe known in Latin as the Volcae.

    Their name found its way into Proto-Germanic as *Walhaz, which came to mean a foreigner who spoke a Romance language, or a Celt who had become romanised. Later, it also came to mean ‘nomad’.

    The word then started to refer to a huge number of places that you might be familiar with.

    *Walhaz, in Old Frankish, became *Walholant, the Land of the Romans. Those of you who remember that French ‘gu’ is often equivalent to Germanic ‘w’ may already have worked out that this then led to Gaule (French) and Gaul (English).

    *Walhaz made it way into Old English as Wealh, and, proving that humanity hasn’t changed that much over the centuries, started to be used to refer to any inhabitant of the Western Roman Empire. The Anglo-Saxons started to use it to refer to what we now call, yes, Wales.

    There was also a Wealh presence in the south-west of Britain, in a part of the island that looked a bit like a horn, or a carnu-. You might know it as Cornwall.

    Meanwhile, back on the mainland, *Walhaz also gave its name to Wallonia, and, for the first time, I now also (sort of) understand why Swiss Germans refer to the French part of Switzerland as ‘Welscher Schweiz’.

    And then there’s Wallachia, a principality founded in the 14th century, and united with another principality, Moldavia, in 1859. Seven years later, the two would adopt a single name – Romania. In Serbia, vlah is still used to denote a Romanian speaker.

    ‘Vlach’ has also been used, at different times and in different places, to refer to Slovaks, Hungarians, Bulgarians, Serbs and Albanians.

    This is all well and good, and has covered a heck of a lot of ground (literally). But Vlašská isn’t named after any of these.

    Because ‘Vlach’ has also been used to refer to Italians – and, indeed, it still is in Polish, where Italy is called Włochy (plural alert), and in Hungarian, where an Italian is an olasz and their country is Olaszország.

    And, in the mid-1500s, Italians settled in the area where the street is now. We got there eventually!

    In 1573, the Italians had become so numerous that they founded the Wallachian (later Italian) Congregation. It operated until 1942. My pic of the Congregation’s still-standing hospital isn’t the best, so enjoy this excellent old-school street sign instead.

    Vlašská includes a particularly important European embassy, but not the Italian one – that’s on Nerudova. Lobkowicz Palace hosts the German Embassy (it was also the Chinese one for a few years from 1949 onwards).

    The embassy was seen on televisions all over the world in 1989, when its garden became a temporary home to East Germans wishing to flee to the West.

    And to end today’s lesson about words which can really mean anything you want, Moravské Valašsko / Moravian Wallachia is the part of Moravia which borders Slovakia and contains Vsetín.

    It’s so called because ‘Vlach’ came to mean ‘shepherd’ or ‘pastor’ too.

    And one more – ever gone to the pub in Slovenia and drunk a Laško or ten? Well, those are brewed in the spa town of Laško, formerly Laško selo, or ‘Vlach village’.

  • Prague 1, day 30: Strahovské nádvoří (Strahov Courtyard)

    Originally published on X on 28 September 2023.

    For the beginnings of Strahov, take a look at yesterday’s thread and pretend it’s 1143: https://whatsinapraguestreetname.com/2024/09/08/prague-1-day-29-strahovska/.

    A little bit of tribute should also be paid to Jindřich Zdík, bishop of Olomouc from 1126 to 1150, who was as instrumental in founding the monastery as Vladislav II was.

    The first inhabitants of the monastery were Premonstratensian monks from Steinfeld (now in Germany on the French border). The Premonstratensian order is named after its place of origin, Prémontré, in Northern France.

    The remains of their founder, Norbert of Xanten, who died in 1134, would be transferred to Strahov five centuries later.

    (He’s on Charles Bridge too)

    The 1140s version of the monastery was made of wood; by the end of the century, it was replaced by a stone version.

    Much like every third building I mention in these posts, it suffered extensive fire damage in 1258, and again in the 1300s, and, in the 1420s, got treated with all the respect and care that you would expect of the Hussites.

    It wasn’t given a proper reconstruction until the early 1600s, only for the Swedes to ransack it and take much of the library with them in 1648. In the 1670s, architects Giovanni Domenico Orsi and Jan Baptista Mathey saw to its reconstruction.

    Strahov’s monks survived Joseph II’s reforms in the 1780s, but the communists eventually closed it down in 1950, and sent many of the monks to concentration camps.

    Restoration, and a reopening, would occur in 1992-3.

    One highlight of Strahov is the Basilica of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary (Klášterní bazilika Nanebevzetí Panny Marie), whose current, baroque form was designed by Italian architect Anselmo Lurago following damage caused by French and Prussian bombardment in 1742 & 1751.

    Their YouTube channel does a good job of publishing some of its services:

    The Church of St Roch is impressive too, and the whole courtyard is nice and (relatively) quiet.

    But what Strahov is really famous for is its library, completed in 1783 and housing a pretty mind-blowing 200,000 books.

    Proving that Strahov doesn’t do small numbers, its gallery includes 1,500 paintings from the 14th to 19th centuries.

    Reviews of the library online highlight how beautiful it is, but also that the tour is quite short and doesn’t allow you to see very much of it. So here’s a 3D tour instead: https://strahovskyklaster.pano3d.cz

    Pretty stunning even from a Mac.

    The reason for the tour not being everything people might want it to be? The books need a special microclimate in order to stay in good condition, and your breath is not part of that microclimate.

  • Prague 1, day 29: Strahovská

    Originally published on X on 27 September 2023.

    In 1143, Vladislav II, the second King of Bohemia, founded a monastery. I don’t want to say huge amounts about that right now, because it’ll leave me with nothing to say tomorrow.

    Originally known as Sion (i.e. Zion), its name had changed to Strahov within a few years. ‘Strahov’ may be derived from the verb strážit, ‘to guard’ (střežit in modern Czech, strážiť in Slovak).

    Eventually, it became the name of the entire district. However, only part of it is in Prague 1; if you’re lucky enough to live in one of the villas round here, you may well be in Prague 5: https://www.idnes.cz/bydleni/na-navsteve/smichov-praha-opustene-domy-hotel-strahov-stadion-vanicek-prazdne-domy-bezdomovci-ruiny-soud.A190226_135834_dum_osobnosti_web

    Whereas, if you were lucky enough to be one of the 110,000-odd people at this gig on 18 August 1990, you were in Prague 6:

    Strahovská itself connects the monastery with Petřín. Make it all the way to the end, and you’ll reach Štefánikova hvězdárna / Štefánik’s Observatory, built in 1928 and named after Slovak astronomer Milan Rastislav Štefánik.

    These would be better pictures if there hadn’t been quite so much reconstruction work taking place when I was there.

    You can also escape down the hill without having to use your feet very much.

    Also worth mentioning are the ‘Strahov events’ of 1967.

    On 31 October, students living in the local dormitories had had enough of the constant power cuts, and 2,000 took to the streets, shouting ‘Chceme světlo, chceme více světla’ (We want light, we want more light).

    The security forces reacted with aggression, beating protesters, some of them so badly that they became unable to continue their studies.

    Mladá Fronta reported on the event – obviously, the students didn’t get a good write-up, but nor did those who beat them up. Public awareness of this would be one of the factors that contributed to the Prague Spring a few months later.

    Here’s a 2002 piece on the events from Czech Television: https://www.ceskatelevize.cz/porady/1091682868-osudove-okamziky/403235100081006/

    And a pretty incredible piece on the events from a year on (great footage of many of the streets covered recently here, too): https://www.ceskatelevize.cz/porady/1130615451-ceskoslovensky-filmovy-tydenik/218562262700006/

  • Prague 1, day 28: Na náspu

    Originally published on X on 26 September 2023.

    A násep or násyp is a ’causeway’, ’embankment’ (a železniční násep is a ‘railway embankment’) or ‘rampart’.

    Another word for ‘rampart’ is hradba. As in this lot: https://whatsinapraguestreetname.com/2024/09/07/prague-1-day-6-marianske-hradby-the-marian-walls/.

    When fortifications were built around here, this street was artificially raised. The street was called Na Mariánských hradbech for a while in the 1800s (it got its current name in 1870), despite said fortifications being a bit further north.

    Only one house has an entrance on this street, and it was previously lived in by director Karel Kachyňa. Who was clearly a fan of Hradčany: https://whatsinapraguestreetname.com/2024/09/08/prague-1-day-20-novy-svet-new-world/.

    As you might expect for a street with only one house, it’s also lovely and peaceful and a good little escape from the crowds at the castle.