A cloudy Monday greeted us, which was okay with us. Some people let themselves get depressed about clouds, but clouds never detract from the beauty in the world. Perhaps our attitude helped us enjoy Prague more in February. We always had fun.
We breakfasted in the hotel, and I’ll describe its glorious buffet in another part of this blog. We said “Dobré Rano” to everyone we met, and the Front Desk staff complimented our pronunciation.
Afterwards, we wanted to try a coffeeshop that locals love. Super Tramp Coffee is beloved by Praguers as an oasis in the “urban jungle”. Lewis and I were exhilarated that it was around the corner from our hotel. Located inward from the main streets, it is literally “off the beaten path”: # 160 at the intersection of Černá and Opatovická Streets.
You will not notice the entrance, but you’ll definitely notice a tall wooden door from 1719 that belonged to palatial manor owned by Benedictine Monks.
The café is tricky to find because it’s in the courtyard of the former Josef Vilimek Publishing House. The derelict building was abandoned for decades, but the landlord gave an affordable space in its courtyard to the coffeeshop.
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The proprietress has an easily-missed banner near the entrance, and her webpage doesn’t give guidance to find the entrance. But I was resourceful and looked online for someone’s video of how to find it. From the street, customers enter the vehicle entrance of the publishing house. It is dimly lit. People turn left, go down a short corridor, and emerge in a courtyard. Initially, it still looks abandoned. But we noticed new chairs/tables in a colonnade, and two picnic tables on the grass had bouquets of flowers. However, be wary of mud in the courtyard.
Music thumped from within the shop.
Inside, the space is austere, but all the necessary machinery exists for excellent espresso, coffee, and baking. Yes, baking. We saw two women rolling dough and baking tarts in the kitchen. We love on-site handmade viennoiserie! The smell was lovely. Coffee beans are roasted in Hungary at Casino Mocca—which is internationally famous. They also make their own unique-flavored lemonades.
You might expect that type of place to be full of hippies and hipsters. In truth, a wide array of people existed: college students, two mothers with strollers, a suit-and-tie guy, an older woman, and two gym buddies. Super Tramp certainly offers a haven from the urban rush and throngs of tourists, and that appeals to locals. A fey-looking fellow in hipster clothes took our order, and we paid electronically for an Espresso and a Flat White.
Tips were not expected, but a bowl contained a few coins. The Czech custom regarding tips is to give a spare coin. That’s unlike the USA where baristas expect 15-20% of the total, or at least $1.00 per drink.
We sat on stools against a concrete wall. Within moments, he carried our drinks to us on a metal tray, including glasses of water, a tiny creamer for Lewis’ coffee, organic sugar, appropriately-sized spoons, and napkins. (In America, baristas get bigger tips but they expect you to wait nearby to hear when they shout your name, and you carry your own beverages and fetch your own water—if it’s available). Our beverages were served in Asian-style cups (without handles). Each sip was perfect! The cost of that blissful moment was 228 crowns ($9), which included $1.00 as a tip.
Despite being there during the morning commuting hour, people were unhurried. Praguers don’t rush to work; their public transportation is efficient, so they don’t need to allocate an extra 30 minutes for anticipated delays. Full of delays, Americans must endure “Rush Hours” every day for their commutes… like a low-class nation that won’t find remedies.
Lewis and I had to get accustomed to leaving our dirty dishes on the tables at coffeeshops. In Prague, employees automatically clean-up after you. Since you are the guest, they expect you to leave your dirty dishes; your priority is to enjoy the experience. In America, you tip the employees at coffeeshops, and you still clean away your dirty dishes and cups. Czechia’s philosophy is that you’re the guest who should savor the moment; they tidy up. We like their beliefs better.
The coffee was so lovely that we informed the Front Desk team at our hotel. Surprisingly, those three people didn’t know about Super Tramp, but they immediately investigated online and were impressed. They will tell future guests. It was our good deed.
From there, we travelled to the castle! The Czech Republic has 300+ castles. That’s amazing. Funded by the government, the National Heritage Institute manages 100 castles, chateaus, and monasteries, which were visited by 4.2 million people in 2023.
Prague Castle is the main one, and it is a mecca for global guests.
News reports warned about a farmers’ protest occurring that day: tractors were expected to obstruct various streets in the capital—especially closer to the castle, where the parliament is.
In the USA, protests have dire consequences for everyone because police use prison-quality barricades, and they shut-down entire roads and highways. In Manhattan, entire regions are obstructed by police—more than the protesters—and traffic is halted for miles in every direction. Things seem better-managed in Prague. (We spent 10 days in Prague and witnessed that protest, a rock-band publicity event, and a national rally in Old Town Square… yet there were no road closures, and police did their best to maintain order by facilitating traffic. It was heavenly to experience such orderliness).
On that Monday morning, the Directorate of Traffic Police dispatched officers as lookouts on the highways.
With readiness and preparedness, squads of minivans were deployed by the Directorate of Public Order to ensure that bridges and thoroughfares were not obstructed.
Mounted police appeared, too.
We also saw motorcycle cops who were prepared to zip into the tractor convoys, intercept, and prevent issues. They rode on BMW bikes! Sleek, maneuverable, and modern.
NYC’s overpaid motorcycle cops can’t do much because they ride overweight bikes that are typical of America: loaded with shiny things but lacking precision performance.
Nonetheless, at that moment, we didn’t know how Prague handled protesters, so we decided to avoid trams, buses, and taxis. Instead, we went underground—like invaders from centuries ago—to get to the castle! To get to the ancient site, we began with a modern experience. From our hotel, we rode the Metro under the river.
For somebody from America, seeing modern public transportation seems futuristic! We don’t get that while living in America’s richest city. Ten years ago, 30% of its subway trains were 40 years old. Now, those are 50 years old, and 40% of all trains are 30 years old! Despite living in a pricey area, Lewis and I suffer with a route that uses 50-year-old trains. What city forces passengers to use trains that are 50 years old?! That’s crazy.
That’s what we overpay to use for our commutes: dirty, clanky trains from 1974 in 2024! It’s like a third-world nation.
We exited at Malo Stranska Station.
It’s near a big park named Jojanovy Sady that is full of peacocks and fruit trees.
From there, many visitors enter the “back” of the castle, because it’s closer to the Metro station (the castle aims away from the city-center because the city didn’t exist when the castle began).
However, Lewis and I desired the “full experience” with authenticity, so we wanted to enter from the front. It is where the essence of old Prague resonates amongst curvy streets, magnificent buildings, monastery gardens, and melodic sounds from the Loreta carillon. The whole area is its own district, and we think it’s amazing.
Hradčany (Castle District) surrounds Prague Castle and includes historical palaces built by the nobility. Supreme authorities of the Kingdom of Bohemia met there, it was the headquarters of the Holy Roman Empire, and today’s modern government convenes there. The Kingdom of Bohemia was unique...
...because it was the only kingdom within the Holy Roman Empire. It was the only Slavic nation amongst many sovereignties and principalities that had German culture. Its nobles usually demonstrated an independent feistiness.
Hradčany was an independent borough until 1784. Then, on February 12, Emperor Joseph II issued a royal decree (as part of his Enlightenment efforts) so it became part of the capital—along with Old Town, Lesser Town, and New Town—and the whole area was renamed as the Royal Capital. The Czech word for “royal” is královské. Prague became the second-largest city in the Habsburg monarchy, after Vienna. The name “Royal Capital City of Prague” was used until 1922.
Looking up from the Metro station, we saw the long castle. Looming majestically over the capital, the ancient site is a symbol Czech politics and royal lineage.
It was the location of power for Bohemian princes and kings, Holy Roman Emperors, Austrian Emperors, Czechoslovakian presidents, and Czech presidents. The world-famous Bohemian Crown Jewels are hidden inside. President Petr Pavel is a tenant. (Keeping with tradition, leaders of the nation have their official residence in the castle). But he and his wife reside in a comfier villa named Lumbeho in the Royal Garden just beyond the castle walls.
Therefore, England’s Windsor Castle is the largest inhabited one, but Prague Castle is the largest in Europe. *To see our visit to Windsor Castle, please use this link: https://halfwindsorfullthrottle.blogspot.com/2021/10/our-trip-to-london-uk-part-4-windsor.html
Prague Castle is part of a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Its origins were in 870, by Prince Borivoj of the House of Přemysl.
He was following instructions from a relative whose talents are still legendary. Princess Libuše made prophesies that allowed her to rule the nation successfully. In that era, Czechs had a polytheistic religion, and their deities gave accurate premonitions to the princess. Similar to her mystical method for choosing her husband, she had a vision of Prague’s creation and greatness. She prophesized that it must be built near the Vltava River, 4.5 kilometers from her current fortress at Vysehrad. Her people ventured north by that distance and encountered a man building a práh (threshold) for a house. That is why the capital is named Praha (Prague).
Borivoj’s princely palace was made of wood, surrounded by stone walls.
It grew into the biggest castle in Europe! It was always the headquarters for the Head of State—princes and then kings—and the highest-ranking officiant of the Church. Prince Vratislav founded Saint George’s Church in the 910s. Saint Vitus Rotunda was established in the 920s by Prince Vaclav. The castle contained a mint that coined silver denarii, which was the Czech currency for 400 years. In 932, the martyred Prince Wenceslas I (known as “Good King Wenceslas”) was interred in the castle, within St. Vitus. In the 1000s, Prince Spytihnev II revamped St. Vitus into a prominent basilica, and the medieval castle was improved to reflect the Romantic Era. In 1135, the Royal Palace was revamped by Prince Sobeslav to replace wood with stone masonry, and he added walls and towers.
In that era, the Knights of Johannites operated a fortress to protect the castle from the south, and the humungous Strahov Monastery provided protection in the west. (The Grand Priory of the Johannites still stands in Lesser Town, and it’s the oldest Czech convent of the Knights of Malta).
Crowned in the castle in 1253, King Ottokar II ruled a feudal monarchy, so he fortified the castle further. That was the Gothic Era, and it left a strong imprint on the castle’s appearance.
It also saved the castle during a devastating fire in 1303. The 1350s were a time of immense prosperity for Prague Castle because it became an imperial residence for Emperor Charles IV, who was crowned in the castle and ruled the Holy Roman Empire. He had four wives, and their coronations occurred in the castle. The Royal Palace was rebuilt magnificently, and the castle’s ramparts were strengthened. He covered some roofs with gold-plated metal, and that caused Prague to be associated with gold. Luxembourgers took over via a strategic marriage to the last Princess of Přemysl. Their dynasty ended with the death of an emperor in 1437 who lacked a male heir.
In 1471, a new dynasty emerged from the House of Jagiellon when the King of Hungary’s son was chosen. King Vladislav (Vladislaus) II was crowned in the castle, inside St. Vitus Cathedral. At 15-years-old, he was also the King of Hungary and King of Croatia, but he chose to live in Prague. In 1482, he redid the Old Royal Palace and erected defensive towers on the north side: Powder Tower, New White Tower, and Daliborka Tower. The architect was Benedikt Rejt, and he designed Vladislav Hall as the largest (secular) vaulted hall in Europe and the most-complex structure of the late Middle Ages. Finished in 1493, its huge windows were the first examples of Renaissance influence in the nation. It was used for banquets, coronations, and jousting tournaments between knights whose horses were able to ascend the Knight’s Stairway. Vladislav II was a member of the Order of the Dragon. During the Congress of Vienna of 1515, the Jagiellons ended their feud with the Habsburgs. In 1516, Vladislav II died at age 60.
Dynastic changes brought rulers from the House of Habsburg in Austria, and those kings refurbished the castle with Renaissance flair. Many were also elected as Holy Roman Emperors, so Prague became the imperial capital of the huge international empire. That dynasty needs three paragraphs to summarize!
The House of Habsburg was founded in the 11th-century. Rudolf I was elected as King of Germany in 1273. In 1282, he got sovereignty over the Duchy of Austria. Subsequently, the “Habsburg Monarchy” was an amalgamation of Crowns, and the various realms were only united by having the same monarch. The role of the Holy Roman Emperor was continuously occupied by Habsburgs from 1438 until 1740! They regained it from 1745 until its dissolution in 1806! That’s a lot of power. They produced the Kings of Bohemia, Germany, Hungary, Portugal, Croatia, Spain, England, and Ireland. They produced Emperors of Austria and Mexico, rulers of the Southern Netherlands, and sovereigns of principalities in Italy. In 1806, they dissolved the Holy Roman Empire, so Napoleon Bonaparte couldn’t conquer it. But they made a royal proclamation that created the Empire of Austria from the realms that they owned or controlled. It was the third-largest in Europe, after Russia and Britain, and its power rivalled the fierce Kingdom of Prussia. In 1867, it pacified its Hungarian population by renaming itself as the Austro-Hungarian Empire… which feebly continued until it collapsed in 1918. Despite all of that, Bohemia always retained it name and status as a separate kingdom, and Prague was one of the empire’s best cities.
At his height of power, the Emperor of Austria was also the King of Bohemia, Apostolic King of Hungary, King of Dalmatia, Croatia, Slavonia (now in Croatia), Galicia (now part of Spain), Lodomeria (now part of Poland), Illyria (now in Slovenia), and Jerusalem, Grand Duke of Tuscany (in Italy), Grand Duke of Cracow (in Poland), Duke of Lorraine (in France), Duke of Salzburg, Styria, and Carinthia (all in Austria), Duke of Carniola (Slovenia), Duke of Bukovina (now split between Romania and Ukraine), Duke of Modena, Parma, Piacenza, Friaul, and Guastalla (all in Italy), Duke of Upper & Lower Silesia (in Czechia), Duke of Ragusa (in Croatia), Duke of Zara (in Croatia), Duke of Cieszyn (in Poland), Princely Count of Tyrol (in Germany), Princely Count of Gorizia & Gradisca (in Italy), Count of Kyburg (in Switzerland), Prince of Trento and Brixten (both in Italy), Marquis of Upper & Lower Lusatia (in Germany), Marquis of Istria (in Slovenia), Count of Hohenems, Feldkirch, and Bregenz (all in Austria), Count of Sonnenberg (in Germany), Lord of Trieste (in Italy), Lord of Cattaro (in Montenegro), and Grand Voivode of Serbia.
The current head of the House of Habsburg is an Austrian named Karl von Habsburg. He is the grandson of the last emperor.
As such, he’s also the head of the knightly Order of the Golden Fleece (established in 1430). He is the Grand Master of the chivalric Order of Saint George (founded in 1469). His career focused on politics in the European Parliament and preservation of cultural heritage. As a technicality, he never renounced his titles—as his father did—so he is the Archduke of Austria and Royal Prince of Bohemia.
Seen below, his son, Ferdinand, has award-winning skills with race cars, surfboards, planes, motorcycles, and speedboats.
Okay, now I’ll finishing giving background on the castle. In 1541, a fire severely damaged it, but repairs were done quickly by Emperor Ferdinand I. Bohemia provided half of his annual revenue, so cared for it.
The results made it look more exquisite than ever. That’s when the Royal Garden was planted. Buildings for entertaining appeared: Summer Palace (for his wife, Anne), Ball Game Hall, and a shooting range. New homes were built along the south ramparts. Nobility and merchants dwelled there, enjoying the preferential privilege of living closest to the king.
Rudolf II was crowned in the castle in 1575. During his reign, the castle was enhanced into a grand complex that was befitting its status as the “center of the empire”. He commanded that the Spanish Hall be constructed to hold his expensive artwork and scientific collections. Prague became Europe’s epicenter of culture and science. In his quest for gold, Rudolf II decreed that Golden Lane be built within the castle walls as homes for alchemists and scientists who were hired to find ways of developing gold. The New Royal Palace emerged from his genius. The Council Chamber was the staging area for violent nationalism, named the Defenestration of Prague. It caused the Thirty Years’ War: 1618-1648. In 1631, the castle was sieged and plundered by a Saxon army. At the end of the war, a Swedish army invaded and looted it again.
In 1743, Empress Maria Theresa entered St. Vitus Cathedral to be crowned as Queen of Bohemia. She decreed that the Czech language be the nation’s official language again, and she refurbished Prague Castle with its last additions, giving it a lofty chateau appearance. By then, the capital of the empire was Vienna, yet Prague remained prominent. In 1815, the Congress of Vienna reorganized Europe after the Napoleonic Wars. It didn’t help the badly-managed Austrian Empire, which distanced itself from the Age of Enlightenment and still kept feudal obligations from its peasantry. To fend off everybody that it perceived as an adversary, the Empire exhausted its treasury and troops. Revolutions of 1848 erupted across Europe against “absolute monarchies” that forbade freedom of press, equality of voting, democracy, and expression. In Prague, it occurred as The June Uprising, as men who were not property owners demanded to have rights. They were defeated. Soon after, Hungary revolted, and the feeble-minded Emperor Ferdinand abdicated so the Throne could go to his 18-year-old nephew, Franz Joseph. (Ferdinand chose Prague Castle as his home to retire in).
As the ruler of a constitutional monarchy, Franz Joseph visited in Prague in 1866, and it was a huge success of popularity.
Yet, his reign never resolved the issue of Bohemia’s overdue sovereignty within the empire. The next year, his brother—who tried to be Emperor of Mexico—was executed. In 1889, his son committed suicide, which caused a dynastic disaster. In 1898, the Empress was fatally stabbed by an assassin. Franz Joseph designated his nephew, Franz Ferdinand, as his heir, but that archduke was assassinated in 1914. Two years later, the 86-year-old Emperor died. His grand-nephew inherited the Throne, but the monarchy collapsed in 1918 when Austria was defeated during World War One.
That year, the castle became the home/office of the first president of the Czechoslovak Republic. During the “Roaring Twenties”, a Slovenian architect, Joze Plecnik, was hired to renovate the royal palace and gardens. In 1939, Nazi-controlled Germany invaded, and the Czech president died from a heart attack.
The Nazi dictator, Adolph Hitler, spent a night in the castle.
Ruled by The Third Reich, the nation was constricted during World War Two. Prague Castle was commandeered by an evil man named Reinhard Heydrich. He was a Deputy-Director of the SS (Nazi death squads) and a Director of the Gestapo (Nazi secret police) who sought to destroy all Jews in German-occupied Europe.
Allegedly, he put the Bohemian crown on his head. However, a local legend stated that any usurper who wore the crown would die within a year. Within a year, he was killed by Czech Resistance Fighters as he went to the castle… and his son died in a traffic accident within another year.
WWII ended and the nation was liberated, but it succumbed to another occupation by Soviet-controlled Russia.
The castle was used for offices of that government. Finally, in 1989, Soviet control ended. In 1993, Czechoslovakia split back into two nations: Czechia and Slovakia. Once again, Prague Castle resumed its role for the Head of State. Wow, there is SO MUCH HISTORY in its walls! We were eager to get there.
From the Metro, it was easy to transfer to any tram on Route #22 or 23. Arriving at the castle by tram is the best way.
Trams and cars go hill on a curvy street that ascends the steep hill.
Our tram went under a pedestrian bridge...
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... and it rounded a bend in the road, and we noticed that a green-space existed north of the moat; it was the Royal Garden. Its 3.6 hectares were preserved against overdevelopment since 1534, and they provide year-round beauty. The tram’s rails took us through an allée of trees.
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Most passengers exited at Prague Castle Stop, but we rode farther and exited at Brusnice Stop. That’s the best place to enter the district, and you’ll see why. Despite being at the most-visited site in the country, it is an area that many tourists overlook. It’s full of winding lanes, small houses, walled paths, and cottages that existed since the Middle Ages. They are perfectly preserved.
Nicknamed “New World”, the area began in the medieval era as homes for villagers, professionals, and Servants of the Crown. They were not rich, but they were fortunate to live within the medieval walls because they were protected—especially at night when the wall’s gates were locked. Townsfolk living outside the walls were prone to attackers and marauders. Describing their poor-yet-fortunate circumstances, many houses were named with the word “golden”: Golden Acorn, Golden Pear, Golden Star, and Golden Stork. Relatedly, at the other end of the district is a street named Golden Lane. It’s amusing that the castle is bookended by areas that are associated with gold: a prosperous omen.
From the tram stop, we crossed the street and descended a long stone staircase.
On the right, we admired gigantic walls that remained from the medieval bastion that now supports Keplerova Road. (It is named Bastione di San Francesco Borgia to honor the great-grandson of Pope Alexander VI. Francis Borgia was the Duke of Gandia, but his failure to negotiate a royal marriage for Spain and Portugal compelled him to become a priest). The huge redbrick wall dwarfed the cottages that stood below it. Seen from the sky, the bastion is part of a “pointed” segment of the wall that was added in 1730 to provide defenders with more crossfire viewpoints.
For centuries, penetrating the castle required overcoming three layers of barriers: outer bastions, medieval stone walls, and the castle's walls.
As European society improved, walls were redundant and removed. Yet, sizable portions of the medieval wall remains, and it can be admired.
At the bottom of the staircase, we admired a log cabin (roubenka); it’s the only fully-timbered home that remains in Prague. It was built in 1739 by a butcher. In 1987, it was converted into a cozy 6-suite Romantic Hotel, and it is aptly named Dům U Raka (House at the Crayfish) because the stream was full of crayfish. It also has a fire-lit café.
Beyond there, many lanes have walls, and streets have cozy homes.
It reminded us of exploring the Forbidden City in China because many properties had high walls that enclosed their courtyards, and there were narrow lanes with walls on both sides.*To see our time inside the Forbidden City, please use this link: https://halfwindsorfullthrottle.blogspot.com/2014/11/our-trip-to-china-part-i.html
Walking through that “storybook” area was perfectly suited to visiting a castle! Across the plaza, we noticed a cluster of ramshackle buildings huddled together. Painted with cheery pastel colors, they looked like they were built in the Middle Ages. The tiny curved one is known as Dum s Delovou Kouli (Small Curved House).
Behind it, a humble dwelling seemed to have cannonballs in its wall! That was a spoof to mimic the actual ones stuck in nearby buildings.
The real cannonballs were embedded in buildings during a Prussian siege in 1757, directed by King Frederick The Great, whose gayness and administrative genius built his nation. *To see when we visited his palatial garden-home in Germany, please use this link: https://halfwindsorfullthrottle.blogspot.com/2022/11/our-trip-to-berlin-germany-part-3-of-6.html
Prague was incredibly lucky to avoid major disasters, and it survived both World Wars without much damage. That attack from Prussia was its last disaster.
Around a bend in the road, we saw the Church of Virgin Mary Angelic (Kostel Panny Marie Andělské).
It was consecrated in 1602 as part of the adjoining Capuchin monastery from 1600 (the oldest in the nation). It is freckled with 40 cannonballs! The monks left them in their walls—and rebuilt some with cannonballs showing—to prove that Czechs overcome adversity and build upon it.
If you drink cappuccinos, please know that they were named for those monks. Capuchin monks appeared in 1525 as a reform movement against Catholic profiteering.
That is why their church lacks a steeple; it merely has a modest belfry. After being evicted by the Nazis and then the Soviets, the Capuchin friars returned and they inhabit the yellow monastery and the orange-roofed Loreto, across the street. An elevated “covered passage” connects both.
The grandly-baroque Loreta complex was created in 1626 by an Italian architect, Giovanni Orsi, who was hired by a noblewoman of the Lobkowicz family: Katerina Benigna.
(I’ll describe that family, later). It includes a carillon, treasury, church, and a cloisters that enclose a Holy House. The church received its Baroque façade and yellow paintjob in the 1740s from architects named Christoph and Kilian Dientzenhofer.
We turned around to admire Černínský Palace. Located at the western edge of the Castle District, it’s the largest Baroque palace in the city. It was built by a count named Humprecht Jan Czernin in 1668.
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He belonged to an ancient noble Czech family (dating back to the 1100), and he was Austria’s Imperial Ambassador to Rome. He bought the land from the princely Lobkowicz family, who still own property nearby. The count erected that Italian-style palace to outshine everyone else’s. Its humungous, and the length is accentuated by dozens of tall columns.
Its walled garden is huge—full of formal topiaries and winding paths.
In the 1740s, it was destroyed during the War of Austrian Succession. During its rebuilding, it was damaged by artillery fire when Prussian troops invaded. The palace was staunchly rebuilt, and it got attributes of the Late-Baroque era. In 1777, the family lost its fortune, so they lost the property. (By the 1910s, they regained wealth and were one of the largest landowners in the nation). Since the 1930s, the palatial complex is used as offices for the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.
Desiring food, Lewis led me north on a walled lane named Kapucinska...
... to our lunch reservations on a romantic cobblestone street named Nový Svět. Built as a medieval residential street, it is only 200 meters long, but it’s tranquil and brimming with old-fashioned atmosphere.
The castle’s outer wall occupies one side of the street, and pretty homes face it. (That reminded us of the Forbidden City, too). Farther along, an intricate iron gate gave access through the old wall to a modern playground that is near the cliff.
We lunched at Vinobona Wine & Bistro, and the address is #81/11. In Prague, the number on a red plaque indicates the whole building, and the number on a blue plague is for the unit.
It is another family-run business within the castle’s neighborhood. It didn’t appear on any tourism websites or videos that we examined; I found it on my own. It’s wonderful, and we recommend it to you! If you approach it on a colder month, you can enjoy the smells of wood-burning fires from neighboring houses. The aroma of a log fire and the anticipation of oven-fresh food have an excellence that cannot be described.
It opened in 2023, and its superior service, great wine cellar, elegantly-plated food, and fair prices are amazing. I made an online reservation, and Lucie Sládková emailed me to confirm. She’s the owner. (We like gender equality in the restaurant industry). We requested a table-for-two at their earliest timeslot: 11:30. Lucie was on-duty that morning when we arrived. Fate arranged that we were their only lunchtime customers on that Monday… and we made it worthwhile for them with laughter, conversation, and a languid lunch.
Built in an era when humans were smaller, the doorway is short.
Despite the age of the small house, it is fully modern. A motion-sensor glass door slid open for us, and Lucie stood in the foyer to welcome us. She said that most of the house existed since the 1600s, but the earliest records of the house are dated in 1210! That’s an old house! We used the lavatories to wash our hands, and their interiors are impacted by stone curvature from the medieval parts of the house. It looked like part of a grotto.
Nonetheless, the lavatories were hospitably equipped with “vanity kits”, cotton swabs, tissues, and hand lotion. At the other end, a tiny bar had three stools.
To save space, there is a spiral staircase made of planks from wine crates and barrels. Ingenious carpentry!
Despite is small size, the house has an abundance of sunlight from many windows. The back of the restaurant touches the sprawling walled garden that still belongs to the 17th-century Capuchin monastery. The monks have a vegetable garden that occupies one-quarter of it.
Arriving on the next level, we were face-to-face with Chef Tadeas Vasko. To the right of the stairwell is his immaculate and modern kitchen. We knew that we had a great meal coming.
To the left is the seating area, with windows overlooking the lane.
Each window had flowerboxes—inside and outside. Lucie watered them during our meal and described the blooms. Dangling in the windows, candle lanterns were made from wine bottles.
The back wall was covered with wood-paneling (similar to a log cabin), and had stemware, corkscrews, aerators, decanters, a wine refrigerator, and an array of vermouths and brandies. Overhead, lacquered beams added quaint ambiance.
As we sat, we liked the elegant detail of a silver napkin ring holding our blue linen napkins in-place. Lucie gave us a carafe of water. The dishes have homey patterns that your aunt might use, but the glassware is refined. Chef Vasko prepares a gourmet brunch on weekends: eggs in glass, truffled omelets with brioche, plump sausages, Eggs Royale with trout, and French toast. Lunch is served on weekdays from 11:30 to 15:00. His scrupulous methods produced a perfect one for us!
For aperitifs, Lewis ordered an Aperol Spritz with chokeberry juice. I sipped a locally-made specialty: Kamptal Verjus ZW Vodou blended in the nation’s prestigious Kamptal wine region. It includes spring water, pearl barley, and herbal syrup from Austria.
We began our meal with an aromatic soup: chicken broth with bits of chicken schnitzel stuffed with bacon, topped with baby greens and fresh herbs. It sounds simple, but Czech broth is complex. Named vyvar, a broth is made with rib and knuckle bones, dry-roasted spices, bay leaves, and unpeeled vegetables. Ideally, it simmers for several hours. That’s tremendous, and we loved it.
As appetizers, we shared Halušky (pronounced as Haloosh-key): small potato pasta with a pillowy softness that is mixed with sheep’s cheese—named bryndza—and speck. It’s a classic Czech “comfort food” that sometimes uses scraps of Prague Ham, but the chef prefers the complexity of speck—an air-cured bacon that is brined with juniper and peppercorns and then lightly smoked. To make the “pasta dumplings”, coarse flour is blended with grated raw potatoes, eggs, and a dash of salt. Their shape is achieved by shoving the dough through a special sieve or rolling them by hand. As a National Dish of Slovakia, the method is using a spoon. The sheep’s milk cheese provides a creamy texture to the recipe, and we like its tanginess. Perfected for centuries in Slovakia since 1470, it was popularized across the Austrian Empire. (Fortunately, our neighborhood of Astoria has one Czech/Slovak restaurant that serves it, so we knew about it).
We also ordered Foie Gras. Plump lobes of delectability were served with a wine reduction and toasted-yet-buttery brioche. Despite my yearning to try all things Czech, Lucie and I agreed that the buttery texture of the chef’s foie gras would be complemented best by a glass of 2018 Chablis made in France by Jean-Paul & Benoit Droin (260 crowns). That winery is known for only growing its grapes in chalky Kimmeridgian soil (full of Jurassic fossils)—never in outer areas of Portlandian limestone. Grown at an altitude of 250 meters, the mineral-rich taste of the wine had enough complexity to pair with the meat. Great choice!
Thanks to clean water management, the Vltava River is a great source of trout! Fly-fishing is popular along the riverbanks. In addition, Rainbow Trout are raised in Fish Farms throughout the Czech Republic; 406 aquaculture businesses exist. Therefore, it seemed an obvious choice to eat the chef’s Pstruh (Trout), baked to perfection and coated with a beurre blanc cause. Appropriately, Lucie gave us fish knives.
Lewis sipped a Chardonnay made by Alfred Markus Deim in Austria (160 crowns). The family-run winery existed since 1770, and the vineyards are within the Kamptal Nature Park, which is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Lewis and I like supporting environmentally-friendly viticulture, and that “lightly-oaked” wine paired superbly with the chef’s buttery fish.
For dessert, we chose homemade Buchtičky se šodó (Baked Sweet Buns) made with a velvety Šodó cream sauce and dusted with confectioner’s sugar. It is a traditional Czech recipe; the buns are shaped like ducatcoins, and its vanilla sauce is usually served with morsels of fresh fruit. Unlike a typical vanilla cream sauce, it involves a dash of white wine. Lewis sipped an espresso (75 crowns), and I opted to try a locally-made Czech brandy named Arte Vini (160 crowns). Lucie served it in a tall-stemmed tulip glass.
Our bill totaled 2,385 crowns ($100.20). We praised the chef for his talents and thanked Lucie for her warm hospitality. We will return for more cozy meals.
Galvanized from nourishment, we exited Vinobona and went to the corner, where we paused to admire the Smicerovsky House. Centuries ago, singers and musicians from the Loreta complex lived there and were given free rooms and food as part of their compensation at the church.
Arm-in-arm, Lewis and I strolled through the historic cobbled lanes. On the corner of Kanovnikca Street and U Kasaren Lane, we saw the Austrian Embassy. Due to Austria’s long relationship with the nation, their embassy remains within the castle’s area.
Around every turn, Lewis and I were enamored with the careful historical conservation!
The lane narrowed between two big yellow buildings, and we saw a Castle Guardsman patrolling the area. A patrol car of the Military Police also whizzed by.
Soldiers walked past us, too.
We turned left on Loretanska and were wowed with the statues embedded on the grand buildings.
We paused at a shop named Mandlarna Loretanska (Loreta Almond Shop). It sells cakes, croissants, and ice cream, but it specializes in alcohol made with “royal almonds” from the Hustopec orchards in Moravia.
We bought tiny bottles of distilled almond schnapps named Mandlovka.
Lewis and I love the taste of almond recipes, but we didn’t like that liqueur. Other varieties were flavored with coffee and cherries, but we disliked them, too. However, one benefit was learning about Moravia. This is its coat of arms.
In the 800s, Moravians established a principality named the Great Moravian Realm, and it was ruled by the strong Mojmir Dynasty for six generations.
In 833, it conquered the neighboring Principality of Nitra (in Slovakia). It also conquered Bohemia. After nearly a century, that was reversed. In 907, Moravia was defeated by Hungarian princes who took what is now Slovakia. They gave Moravia to the Duke of Bohemia of the Přemyslid Dynasty. He allowed Moravia to be administered by its own margrave (a marquis who ruled a border-property).
Even though the liqueur was disgusting, the almond orchard probably makes great marzipan. Groves of almond trees began 300 years ago in Moravia, but the first commercial use began earnestly in 1948. During Soviet control, it was emphasized as a form of self-dependency. The art of almond-growing was almost lost in the 1980s, but it was lovingly revived in 2011.
We left the shop and looked up to admire the Tuscany Palace that faces a small park. It was built in 1690 by the Grand Duke of Tuscany: Cosimo de Medici III. It was used by his heir, Ferdinando, who was interested in equestrian stunts, classical music, and gay orgies. It is used by the government's Ministry of Foreign Affairs.
The street is full of pretty shops.
We admired a gigantic 8-arm streetlamp.
It is powered by gas, which adds historic charm. Gas lighting began in 1847. In 1867, cast-iron streetlamps were installed, designed by Eduard Vesely and Ales Linsbauer. Most were single lamps, but 55 were three-arm, 11 were 4-arm, and 16 were 8-arm. An 8-arm lamp is big! By 1985, most were converted to electricity, but the Charles Bridge and the 8-arm lamp by the Castle entrance were preserved as gas-fed. It’s one of the last 8-arm lamps to survive.
We noticed the Schwarzenberg Palace. It was created by Johann Popel of Lobkowicz who bought land after houses burned in the Fire of 1541. He was the local Burgrave (emperor’s administrator of the city), and he built his palace in 1545 with Italian panache.
Alas, the family caused the displeasure of Emperor Rudolf II, so he confiscated it as a Property of the Crown. The Crown sold it to the Schwarzenberg Family in 1719. They were a noble Bohemian family with French heritage that began in 1172. In 1746, Emperor Francis bestowed the Schwarzenberg men with the hereditary title of Princes of the Empire. In 1909, the family gave the palace to the National Technical Museum. During the Nazi Occupation, the German Army used it. In 2002, the National Gallery obtained it to contain masterpieces by Rubens, Rembrandt, Vouet, and Ribera.
We were in Hradčany Square, in front of the castle. Across the square, we saw the Sternberg Palace, with three wings and rotunda.
The property was purchased in 1690 by an imperial count named Wenzel Adalbert of Sternberg. He belonged to one of the oldest aristocratic families in Bohemia, and he wanted to live near the castle because it was the center of government. In 1947, it was converted for the National Gallery. It contains works by Old Masters: Italian Renaissance paintings from the 14th and 15th-centuries (collected by Austria’s Archduke Franz Ferdinand), rare Russian religious iconography, Flemish and Dutch portraits from the 15th and 16th-centuries.
Next, we noticed the Archbishop’s Palace—full of flamboyant Baroque embellishment.
When the first Catholic bishopric began in Prague in 973, the bishop lived in a mansion beside Saint Vitus Cathedral. In the 1220s, bishops “outgrew” it and demanded something ostentatious, so they constructed a palace named Bishop’s Court, located in Lesser Town. In 1344, the role of bishop was elevated to archbishop. Typical of Catholic properties in that era, the palace became so luxurious that the king was envious. The palace burned down during the religious Hussite Wars of the 1400s, and the archdioceses was plundered. In 1561, a new archbishop was appointed by King Ferdinand and the Pope. His Majesty gave him a medieval mansion near the castle’s front gates. The Catholics promptly made it bigger with Renaissance style. Unsatisfied, the next archbishop reconstructed the palace in 1676 with an architect from Rome. The result is a towering Baroque masterpiece made of gleaming-white marble. It has a commanding view of the square and overlooks the roofline of Lesser Town, just below the hill. The archbishop lives there.
Last week, victims of sexual abuse from Catholic priests in the Czech Republic petitioned the government for the Archbishop’s resignation because he neglected to stop sexual predators amongst the clergy. The victims were outraged about the lack of personal accountability and the meager consequences to abusive priests: relocation or suspension with pay. The archbishop was criticized for knowing about a priest in Olomouc who sexually abused altar boys during the 1990s, yet the archbishop failed to take action and only issued a suspended sentence to him. In 1990, John Paul II was the first pope to visit Prague. That’s astoundingly sad when you realize that centuries of popes demanded immense sums of money from the Czechs, as well as their lives for wars and inquisitions. Yet, popes never visited the Czech homeland. In 2009, Pope Benedict XVI visited to reclaim followers, but Czechia remained #2 in a ranking of Europe’s least religious societies.
Directly across the street is the Salmovsky Palace, which the National Gallery filled with Japanese artwork.
It was built in 1810 on the site of two houses that were gifted to the archbishop. But he died prematurely, so the Count of Schwarzenberg bought it. After WWII, the Soviets confiscated it and nationalized it. It went to the National Gallery in 2003.
Facing us—with a full view down the street—was the main entrance to Prague Castle.
As I mentioned in the previous section, the castle is protected throughout the year by regiments of the Castle Guard, who are garrisoned nearby. *To see the daily Changing of the Guard Ceremony, please use this link: https://halfwindsorfullthrottle.blogspot.com/2024/04/our-trip-to-prague-czechia-part-2-of-9.html
The handsome buildings around the First Courtyard are named the West Wing because they are on the west side.
They were added by Empress Maria Theresa to bolster the castle. They are used by the staff of the Castle Guard, and one area includes a red-carpeted ceremonial Entrance Hall. It connects to the Pacassi Staircase, Hall of Columns, and Rothmayer Hall.
Like a pair of adventurers, we entered the castle via the Fourth Courtyard, to the left of the main entrance.
We were excited to explore the castle and its inner palaces. Yes, palaces within a castle. When you think of a palace, you might envision the ones in Madrid, Vienna, or London: gigantic, stand-alone structures. But palaces can be smaller. In an old castle like Prague’s, there are buildings that are called palaces. That is similar to China’s Forbidden City, which has many buildings that are called palaces. By today’s standards, their size might be considered mansions. But in the era of their making, they were awesomely huge and lavish. Prague Castle has several palaces within its walls, and they are grand.
We bought tickets to enter the main buildings. Off-season, the cost was 250 crowns ($10.50), instead of 450, and that included the Old Royal Palace, Saint Vitus Cathedral, St. George’s Basilica, and the Golden Lane. (The cathedral is free if you are there to worship). Access to climb the cathedral’s South Tower was 150 crowns ($6). Tour Guides cost 250 per hour.
The most significant uniqueness of Prague Castle is its size. It’s unbelievable! Windsor Castle is massive—encompassing three wards, chapel, 12 half-timbered buildings, and three wings of the royal residence. However, Prague Castle is enormous. It stretches for 570 meters (1,870 feet) in length, and its width is 130 meters (430 feet). It encompasses seven towers, a forecourt, three castle-courtyards, six building-courtyards, several streets, an Old Royal Palace (with space for indoor jousting), New Royal Palace, church, two chapels, the remnants of a monastery, a huge cathedral (the biggest in the nation), rows of half-timbered houses, barracks, dungeon, a former dormitory for noblewomen, several palaces, the official residence of the president, and a water-well. Its acreage is so large that it could contain 6 versions of Buckingham Palace!
*To see when we received permission to enter Buckingham Palace and sip tea in th Queen's garden, please use this link: https://halfwindsorfullthrottle.blogspot.com/2022/09/our-return-to-london-uk-part-4-of-6.html
On the north wall, a pastel-painted building had been the stables but became Rudolf II’s Gallery, where the emperor amassed a collection of artwork, technical innovations, natural wonders, books, inventions, and the world’s first clock that showed the seconds. Some items were purported to be a unicorn’s horn, mermaid’s fin, and the skeleton of a dragon (probably a dinosaur). In its heyday, the collection held 3,000 items! Most were stolen by Sweden in 1648. By 1656, donations by Czechs restored the gallery to 600 items. Alas, in 1762, Empress Maria Theresa moved things to Vienna. In 1918, Prague requested the return of the artwork from Austria. Austria only conceded to return less-valuable ones. (It behaved worse after WWII by denying the return of items stolen from Jewish and exiled households). After the Velvet Revolution, the Czech government purchased several paintings that belonged to Rudolf, and they adorn his gallery. Recently, the National Gallery filled it with Baroque artwork that has Bohemian history. Admission was not included with our ticket, so we’ll visit it another time.
Rudolf II was the Holy Roman Emperor, King of Bohemia, and Archduke of Austria.
Alas, due to the infamous inbreeding of his Habsburg ancestors, he suffered from physical abnormalities that impaired him from chewing and digesting. (That was similar to the last Habsburg to be King of Spain: Charles II [1665 to 1700]. Last year, we learned about him in Spain, during a tour of the Royal Palace in Madrid. His damaged genetics caused similar ailments and also left him childless). He was raised in his uncle’s royal court in Catholic-controlled Spain, yet he remained tolerant of other religions. His broadmindedness allowed Judaism to flourish in Prague. When he became king, he chose Prague—from amongst all the capitals of his realms—to be his home.
During his reign, Rudolf II attracted the crème-de-la-crème of architects, artisans, scientists, astronomers, philosophers, alchemists, goldsmiths, fortune-tellers, and educators. He appointed Johannes Kepler as the Royal Mathematician, and that genius established the first observatories in the capital. Rudolf summoned John Dee: the royal astrologist for England’s Queen Elizabeth I. The king amassed masterminds of decorative arts: Pieter Stevens, Joris Hoefnagel, Hans von Aachen, Aegidius Sadeler, and Wenzel Jamnitzer. He adored Netherlandish, Flemish, and Italian artwork by Leonardo da Vinci, Paolo Veronese, and Pieter Bruegel the Elder. Prague teemed with craftsmen and workshops—a hive of creativity that was unseen in history. Collaborations and exchanges of ideas formed a “melting pot” of improved techniques.
Rudolf was never married and was a fanatic for art, so there were speculations that he was homosexual. Lacking an heir, his power-hungry Habsburg family worried that he wasn’t developing their dynasty. They conspired against him and chose his brother, Matthias (who hated him), to usurp his throne. In 1611, the royal family helped Matthias be crowned as the new King of Bohemia, and his coronation occurred in Prague Castle. The next year, Rudolf died in Prague Castle at age 59—living in self-made squalor—and was buried in the crypt of its cathedral. Five months later, Matthias was elected as the new Holy Roman Emperor.
Another part of the North Wing is the Spanish Hall, which is next to the Rudolf Gallery, extending towards Powder Bridge. Completed in 1606, it’s the biggest room in the castle: 47 x 24 meters. The lavishly stuccoed hall has nine huge windows that face mirrors.
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The Spanish Hall is a humungous ballroom used for banquets, investitures, press-meetings, and pan-national conferences.
There is also a very long Formal Dining Room, done in similar grandeur.
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Arriving in the Third Courtyard...
...Lewis and I looked up to ogle Saint Vitus Cathedral!
In the foreground, a 600-year-old statue of Saint George slaying a dragon (circa 1373) reminded us that his church existed first. (We went to Saint George’s Basilica after the cathedral).
At the corner of the cathedral is a large building made of pink marble named The Old Provostship. It began in the 1000s as the bishop’s residence, but later bishops moved to the bigger palace that now serves the Archbishop of Prague. In 1662, the pink building was remade for the Provost of the St. Vitus Chapter clergy. In 1950, the government occupied it for administration of the castle.
A granite monolith from 1928 seemed out-of-place but commemorated the creation of Czechoslovakia. On the north paart of the courtyard, there was a Police Station. On the west part, we saw a Post Office with a mailbox. We think it’s impressive that the castle has its own Police Station and Post Office!
We reverted our gaze to Saint Vitus. It is the focal point (literally) of the Archdiocese of Prague, which originated in 973 as an ecclesiastical province (churchly jurisdiction). It contains the finest sacred architecture in the capital. In 930, the first church on the site was only a rotunda. It was done in the popular Romanesque style that harkened to the recently-imploded (but once admirable) Ancient Roman Empire. It was a tower, and it was built by the third Duke of Bohemia, named Wenceslaus. He named it for Saint Vitus because he owned the saint’s arm—as a “holy relic”—gifted by Henry I, the Holy Roman Emperor. The relic and rotunda were part of his plan to Christianize his population and gain favor with the almighty Roman Catholic Church. In the ancient Czech language, “Vitus” sounded similar to the Slavic god named Svantevit: the four-headed deity for abundance and war. Consequently, two religions existed in Prague until the 11th-century: Catholicism and polytheistic beliefs. However, the internment of “the patron saint of the nation” made the rotunda for Christians. The patron saint was Wenceslaus: the man who built the rotunda! I’ll explain.
Wenceslaus was born in 907.
His father was the Duke of Bohemia. His grandfather was the first Duke of Bohemia and founder of the House of Přemysl. When he was 13-years-old, his father was killed a battle, and his grandmother became his regent (to wield power while he was underage). Her regency was unpopular, and Wenceslaus’ mother thought he could do better on his own. She arranged the murder of the old woman in 921: being strangled with her own veil. She created her own regency and persecuted Christians. The next year, at age 15, Wenceslaus was old enough to rule on his own, and he exiled his scheming mother. Christian noblemen helped him rebel against her. With agility, he defended his dukedom against Hungarian raids, Bavarian attacks, and Saxon invaders. In 929, his enemies consolidated their knights and sieged Prague, but his monetary tributes pacified them. He hired German priests for his churches, and he built the rotunda within Prague Castle. He was referred to as Holy Prince Wenceslaus. Despite his youthfulness, he ruled justly with inherent wisdom.
Alas, in 935, his brother, Boleslaus the Cruel, secretly plotted against him, and invited him to a feast—and murdered him. Three of his henchmen stabbed Wenceslaus, and Boleslaus pierced him with a jousting lance. After his assassination, the duchy saw a cult appear to venerate him and tell the world about his ducal vigor. Neighboring nations learned about his generosity and frugality: donating to widows, being generous to downtrodden people, and being prudent with his courtiers. Due to his popularity, he was canonized as a martyr of Christianity, and his tomb became a pilgrimage shrine. In the 960s, Otto II, the Holy Roman Emperor, was so enthralled with Wenceslas’ impressive feats that he posthumously conferred the title of King upon him. Therefore, he is often referred to as King Wenceslaus. In the liturgical calendar, his feast day is September 28, and that is a national holiday in the Czech Republic. In Prague, a legend says that a superhuman army of Knights of Blanik sleeps under a mountain. If the nation is endangered, the statue of King Wenceslaus in Wenceslaus Square will come alive...
...awaken the army, and march across the Charles Bridge. There, his horse will reveal the mythical Sword of Bruncvik, and he’ll use it to vanquish the enemies. Most famously, he is world-renowned from the Christmas carol titled Good King Wenceslas. Written in England in 1853, the lyrics use a melody from the 1200s, and they describe his unwavering courage and good deeds.
He remains an icon of Czech cultural consciousness and national pride. A statue of him in medieval garb stands in front of the castle, at Hradčany Square. An image of him is stamped onto the 20-crown coin.
In Czech, the name “Wenceslas” (Wenceslaus) is Václav. Now you will recognize it on maps and in literature.
Removing our hats, we entered the cathedral.
The rotunda is unrecognizable today. During the 11th-century, Prince Spytihnev II built a church to accommodate more believers, and it used parts of the rotunda. Since the tomb of Saint Wenceslaus was in the rotunda, the location of the new church could not change. Ruling as an autocrat, King John of Bohemia craved a cathedral. He laid the first stone, and he designed it to be a royal crypt, treasury for the kingdom’s regalia, and a place for coronations. (He and his wives were crowned in the castle, but he intended grander settings for his successors).
A Frenchman who worked on the huge Papal Palace in Avignon was hired. The cathedral was created with flying buttresses, five-bay choir area, and radiating chapels around the cloisters. When that man died, a 23-year-old German genius was hired: Peter Parler, one of the most-talented builders of the Middle Ages. He created the vaulted ceilings—full of diagonal ribbings that made impressive zigzag geometry. As a stonecutter and woodcarver, he designed Gothic columns, a new dome for St. Wenceslaus’ chapel, clerestory walls, and tracery around the windows (each one is different). Amazingly, Parler did that monumental project while also working for King Charles IV to construct the Charles Bridge! In 1360, he owned a house in the castle and was elected as a City Alderman. When he died in 1399 at the age of 68, his sons and craftsmen continued the cathedral, and he was buried in it. (In Germany, a Peter Parler Prize is still awarded for architectural preservation). Construction persevered while The Crusades occurred (several long-distance wars launched by popes against other religions).
Conventionally, there are many chapels and shrines around the perimeter, and effigies and tombs exist.
The Chapel of Saint Wenceslaus is the most intriguing. Built by Peter Parler in 1356, the colorful chamber is embellished with 1,300 semi-precious stones embedded in the walls. At both entrances, heavy wooden doors are studded with iron, to prove wealth. The frescoes are original from 1372. The statue of the saint was carved in 1373 by Parler’s nephew.
Unnoticed by others, Lewis and I observed the small door in the southwest corner of the chapel with a crisscross pattern of shields.
It has seven locks, and it leads down to the Crown Chamber, where the Czech Crown Jewels and royal regalia are safeguarded. As a set, they are a National Cultural Landmark, and they are literally considered to be a national treasure. Since 1791, seven keys are needed to unlock the colorful old door. The key-holders are the President, the Prime Minister, the Speaker of the Chamber of Deputies, the Senate President, the Mayor, the Archbishop, and the Dean of the Cathedral.
Originally named the Bohemian Crown Jewels, they include an orb, scepter, reliquary cross, Saint Wenceslas’ sword, and the crown. Coronation vestments are also kept there for historical significance; the robe was worn from 1653 until 1836. The sword dates from the 900s, when Saint Wenceslas lived. Its iron blade is 76 cm (30 inches) long, and it was used by sovereigns for bestowing knighthoods.
Reproductions of the royal items are displayed in the Old Royal Palace, but the real ones are shown to the public every eight years. The centerpiece is the crown, which was made in 1347 of solid 22-carat gold. It is the fourth-oldest in Europe. Miraculously, it evaded capture, looting, invaders, Nazis, Soviets… and remodeling! It looks as it did when it was made: 19 sapphires, 30 emeralds, 44 spinels, 20 pearls, 1 ruby, 1 rubellite, and 1 aquamarine. Astounding!
When he was enrolled in the USA's elite Fashion Institute of Technology, Lewis studied jewelry design, so he was fascinated with the 677-yer-old crown... a rarity of unmarred medieval creativity, stone-cutting, mountings, and craftsmanship. Thankfully, we saw the reproduction in the Old Royal Palace.
The Crown of Saint Wenceslas was worn by 22 kings and queens.
In accordance to the royal decree from Charles IV in 1347, the Crown Jewels are exhibited within the castle for special occasions. The President has the power to decide how to display them, and they are shown every several years. (We intend to see them, next time).
An ancient Czech legend continues that if an usurper wears the crown, they are doomed to die within a year.
The cathedral was unfinished during the Renaissance, and Baroque elements were added in 1753, including the two-level pipe organ and a south tower.
With a height of 100 meters, (300 feet), the South Tower is also a bell-tower. The oldest bell was cast in 1542. The tower has the largest bell in the country, made in 1549 and weighing 15 tons. It requires four bell-ringers to swing it into motion, and two more people must activate the chiming. Newer bells were added in 2012. The clockwork gears remain from 1589. There is a separate cost to climb the tower’s 287 steps.
Instead of that, we were more interested in the awesome stained glass windows!
We exited through the way we entered, under the Rose Window (seen above). That’s the newest part of the cathedral. In 1870, new foundations were laid for a bigger nave, to allow more seats. Two Gothic towers were added to the front. In the 1920s, the famous Czech painter, Alfons Mucha, used his Art Nouveau skills on the windows, and Frantisek Kysela assembled the Rose Window. In 1929, the building was finished: 600 years after it began. Alas, the Great Depression also occurred, thanks to unregulated recklessness of American financiers in New York City, and a global crisis lasted for 10 years.
Behind the cathedral is St. George’s Basilica. It was founded in 920 by Vratislaus I, the Duke of Bohemia. We explored its Romanesque interior.
Behind it (with two white towers) is a convent for Benedictine nuns, and it was the first convent in Bohemia. It is private.
From there, we explored the Old Royal Palace, which is part of the South Wing. It served Czech princes and kings from the tenth to sixteenth centuries.
The remains of its first wooden buildings exist. In 1303, a fire damaged it, so King John of Luxembourg rebuilt it. After being crowned in the castle, King Wenceslaus IV extended the palace westward. The Old Royal Palace was decimated during the Hussite War, but Emperor Sigismund restored it after his coronation in the castle. In 1490, King Vladislav II made the castle into the main royal residence again.
Lewis and I explored Vladislav’s Hall, built in 1490. It has been entirely preserved, and its medieval vaulted ceiling is mesmerizing. Full of Gothic style, the long hall measures 62 x 16 meters. It was proudly one of the biggest rooms in Europe.
Considering its era, it’s astonishing to see its spaciousness—large enough so that jousting tournaments occurred. Special shallow stairs were made for the horses, and the Equestrian Staircase has its own tracery ceiling.
Full of spellbinding medieval flair, the main ceiling had entwined columns and a jigsaw-pattern of mismatched curves. Astounding!
Emperor Charles VI had his coronation there in 1723. Since 1918, it is used by each President.
We peeked into the Old Chamber. In that space, King Vladislav II signed the oldest-written Czech constitution, which guaranteed that the Czech nobility had influence in the management of the country.
A highlight was the Throne Room, furnished with ministerial benches with red velvet cushions. The gold throne is on a dais with a crimson velvet canopy. Instead of a foot stool, there is red pillow. The chamber is still used for official ceremonies.
That is where copies of the Crown Jewels are displayed.
We liked an exhibition titled “The Story of Prague Castle”. It gave a chronological order of historical events and construction from pre-historical times. Interactive programs displayed a visualization of the development, and we could pretend to be an assistant to one of the historical figures connected to the castle. A film was projected on Transformations in Prague Castle. Alas, the Gift Shop was disappointing... unless you like king-and-knight games or refrigerator magnets.
The New Royal Palace occupies much of the castle’s Third Courtyard in the southern wall. Monarchs from the Habsburg Dynasty wanted improvements from the Old Royal Palace, so they built a new one—without destroying the old one. In 1753, the new facility got a unified external façade from an Viennese architect named Nicolo Pacassi. Once the residence of monarchs, the palace now contains the offices of the President of the Republic. As head of the President’s team, the Chancellor has his office there, too.
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This is the presidential flag.
Czechs esteem President Petr Pavel with high regard.
Born in 1961, he enlisted in the Army and had an illustrious career of 44 years—rising to the rank of General. He earned the Medal of Heroism.
He served his nation as Chief of the General Staff and Chairman of the NATO Committee (the first military officer from a former Eastern-Bloc nation to have the role).
After his divorce, he married a Czech woman named Eva, who is a Lieutenant Colonel in the Army… and she a stepmother to his two sons.
Czechia is a parliamentary democracy—not a presidential one—so Pavel cannot wield power like American ones. (That’s probably a good thing). The President is Head of State, but Czechia’s Prime Minister, Petr Fiala, is Head of Government. Fiala has input because he oversees the Cabinet (heads of ministries), which has most of the Executive Power.
Pavel has positive outlook, executive demeanor, strategic mind, and relatedness to everyday people, and those qualities bolster his constituency.
He does "everyday things" with more authenticity than any American politician I ever knew of.
He is able to socialize in his country without dozens of bodyguards, and his offices are “approachable” for citizens. In contrast, Americans can’t get near the Oval Office in Washington D.C., and New Yorkers can’t get close to their Mayor’s Office. We admire a society that allows accessibility to its president because ours is barricaded away from his citizens by barbed wire fences, riflemen, rocket launchers, and armored cars. Those barriers are huge expenses for taxpayers. It’s not like that in Czechia (or Spain, England, Denmark, and Germany). Evidentially, when you don’t do dastardly things to the nation, its population doesn’t hate you.
If you compare the presidential flag and the government’s logo, they both include a two-tailed lion.
It has a fascinating story. In the late-1100s, the House of Přemysl ruled, and they had the power to mint their own coinage. They stamped the image of a crowned lion with double-tail on every coin, and that iconic symbol was used for the Czech coat of arms thereafter. During the Soviet Occupation, officials in Moscow added a Communist star to replace the lion’s crown, but the crown was restored after the fall of the Soviet Union.
The long building is also home to the Presidential Archives and the Castle Archives. Created in 1927, the Bull Staircase is in the corner...
... and gives access to the Na Valech Garden, which is mostly unchanged since 1550. A viewing terrace was added in 1963, so people can admire the cityscape from a dignified area that is close to Czech presidents.
From outside the castle walls, you can really appreciate the five-level square tower named Ludvik’s Wing (Louis’ Wing), built in 1485. It was named for King Vladislav’s son, Ludvik. (He was crowned in the castle in 1509).
Famously in 1618, nationalists attacked royal appointees from Austria and threw them out the window… which caused the Thirty Years War.
Leaving the Third Courtyard, Lewis and I headed east through the crowds and passed the cathedral’s gargoyles again. On the right, a whitewashed building had a domed portico with columns. It seemed irregular to the layout, but those things are expected in old castles.
It was part of the Rosenberg Palace, built by the Rosenberg Family in 1541. In 1573, two neighboring houses were purchased and attached to the palace. In the 1600s, it reverted to the Crown and became property of Emperor Rudolf II. In 1755, it was redone as an Institute of Noblewomen (ladies from aristocratic families who suffered financial hardships). It was created by Empress Maria Theresa. Mercifully, its destitute ladies didn’t have to take vows of celibacy, so we imagined them having fun with the castle’s soldiers.
The building is used by the Archeological Institute and Castle Administration.
Next to it was the small All Saints Chapel of 1185 that was redone in the 1300s.
Continuing east, we admired neat buildings on Jirska Street (George Street), which is paved with stones. It runs through the castle from Saint George’s Square to the East Gate. That is the second half of the castle.
Suddenly, Lewis pointed to a tapered stairway, so we took a fun detour.
Going up, we turned left and saw a small plaza amongst a few buildings (it's amazing how many buildings exist within the castle!) that concealed the entrance to a narrow medieval lane.
It is named Golden Alley. In his quest for gold, Emperor Rudolf II decreed that Golden Lane be built within the castle walls as homes for alchemists and scientists to find ways of developing gold. It is free after 17:00 but was included with our tickets.
It is lined brightly-painted cottages. Walking on the cobblestones, we realized that the dainty houses stand between the castle’s Romanesque wall and the outer wall against the ravine.
The quirky half-timbered houses—studded with slender chimneys—stood together for 500 years. That’s amazing! In addition to the alchemists who labored futilely for Rudolf II, goldsmiths and royal gunmen—wearing gold embroidery—occupied cottages. They were inhabited until the 1940s. #22 was inhabited by the famous writer, Franz Kafka. #12 was used by the nation’s Nobel Prize Winner for Literature: Jaroslav Seifert.
We were tempted by exquisite carved-wood items in one shop, and we browsed bangles in another. But we did souvenir shopping at #23: the Alchemist’s House. With the shopgirl’s help, Lewis chose handmade soaps for one of his clients, and he got herbal Linden Tea—harvested locally—for his coworker. (Linden trees are the national tree, and they symbolize love, protection, and health. Their blossoms make a curative tea). Americans love anything bought in a real castle because the USA doesn’t have any, and Prague’s pedigree made those gifts greater. For his uncle, Lewis bought handcrafted chocolates flavored with fruit grown in the city’s old orchards.
At the end of the lane, Daliborka Tower can be glimpsed.
It was built in 1496 as a late-Gothic fortification. It was so secure that it was used as a prison until 1790, and it’s infamous for its ghost stories. It is named for its first prisoner: a knight named Dalibor. He was arrested for protecting serfs who robbed wicked rich people—which resembles the legend of Robin Hood. While imprisoned, he played the violin so well that Praguers gave him food and wine. His popularity perpetually postponed his execution, but he died there. Supposedly, ghostly music can still be heard on some nights.
At the other end of the lane, the White Tower stands from 1486. In 1586, it was also used as a prison, dungeon, and torture chamber. During the 1621 Uprising, the emperor filled it with knights, townsfolk, noblemen, and a prince who betrayed him.
Lewis noticed a sign for the Armor & Weapon Museum, and it was included with our tickets, so we went up its wooden stairs. Amusingly, a suit of armor points upstairs to provide a hint. In the Middle Ages, the long space was a parapet at the top of the wall. Windows still exist with swiveling panels that allowed archers to shoot while being protected against incoming arrows. Dozens of antique weapons are displayed: spears, halberds, swords, battleaxes, maces, longswords, rapiers, crossbows, glaives, ball-and-chain flails, daggers, and pikes. There were many suits of armor within plexiglass cases, and they showed a chronological progression of blacksmith technology. Chainmail, breastplates, cuirasses, brigandines, and gauntlets (armored gloves) were everywhere. One cuirass was fashioned to replicate pecs and abs: the muscularity of an ideal male torso. It was meant to intimidate a challenger—or distract them with enticing homoerotic thoughts. We also saw a suit of armor for a king. It had a gold crown attached to the helmet, and a canister was attached over the groin—to protect the king’s genitals so he could still produce an heir. Yet, its position implied a perpetual erection. That might also intimidate—or entice—an opponent.
The helmets were interesting: burgonets and visorless barbutes were drastically different from helmets that enclosed the entire head (and used hinged plates to lift a grille to show the wearer’s mouth). The most constrictive were a style named Great Helm: they resembled a bucket on your head with an eye-slit to see/breath through. They looked robotic and probably inspired Sci-Fi androids. One helmet was a “Pig Faced” Bascinet, with a perforated protrusion over the mouth. Despite the word “pig”, it resembled a bird’s beak.
Back on Jirska Street, we saw the Burgrave Building, surrounded by a gated wall. It was the home of the chatelaine of the castle, and that title morphed into “burgrave”. In 1335, Charles IV lived in it during renovations of his palace, and he reported that it was haunted by a phantom that made footsteps and threw a goblet! Nowadays, it houses the Toy Museum, which is popular with children.
At that point, we arrived at another “gem” within the walls: Lobkowicz Palace. It’s the most-famous palace in Prague Castle. TripAdvisor ranked it as on the top places to visit in the city. Built along the castle’s southeast wall, it was been the private property of a princely family for five centuries.
Yes, it’s the only privately-owned building in the castle. The Renaissance structure was built in the 1500s by a Czech nobleman named Jaroslav, of the House of Pernštejn.
Official royal documents prove that it was always owned by the family, because their lineage was continuously chosen—for hundreds of years—to be the Chancellors of Bohemia. They officiated and managed the kingdom on behalf of the monarchs. The family is one of the nation’s oldest and most-distinguished, with a prominent governmental role that lasted for 700 years. They use it as a museum and event space.
The foyer is spiffy and artistic, and the Ticket Counter is modern. We paid the admission fee, and we received a 50% discount because we had a monthly transit pass via the PID app. Our total was 240 crowns ($10), and it included Audio Guides for our self-guided tour. (The voice was Prince William of the Lobkowicz family). Admission tickets are necessary to use the turnstiles to the lavatories (latrine-style for men). The café is sizable and has a heated balcony with chairs that overlook Lesser Town.
The family is an old knightly Czech one from the 1300s. In 1409, King Wenceslas IV granted them a village (Lobkovice) to own, and a princely title was bestowed on Nicholas Chudy to make him ennobled as Nicholas of Lobkovice. The village was first recorded in 1341, and its first owner was the Marshal of the Royal Court. Its castle was mentioned in 1403, and it still stands. Nicholas was one of the most influential at the royal court. He commanded the royal army successfully, won a few castles from enemies, and he persuaded the king to change the voting rights at the University of Prague. In the next century, the family split into two princely branches that still exist. They held jobs for the Czech Crown as imperial scribe, royal chamberlain, privy councilor, supreme administrator of the royal court, field marshal of the Imperial Army, president of the War Council, and ambassador. Three were bestowed with the Order of the Golden Fleece and joined that camaraderie of chivalrous knights. They built a music conservatory at Jezeri Castle, which produced Antonin Dvorak’s teacher! Prague’s folklore praises Jan Karel Lobkowicz who helped an unknown old man during a night in the city, and that man was the unmarried/childless Count of Vrtba who bequeathed his entire fortune and five estates to the Lobkowicz clan.
After World War One, the Habsburg monarchy was abolished, so the ninth prince renounced his title. (As head of the family, Ferdinand also changed the spelling of the name from Lobkowicz to Lobkowitz, so it seemed more Czech than German. Similarly, the British royal family altered its name from Battenberg to Windsor). Therefore, technically, his title passed to his cousin, who belongs to the Krimice branch of the family, and the 14th Prince of Lobkowicz is named Jaroslav.
After Czechoslovakia was established in 1918, a Land Reform law deprived the family of 80% of its ancestral territories. In 1927, they sold Lobkovick Palace—built in 1707 and located in Lesser Town—to the government. You can see it from the windows.
(In 1973, it became the German Embassy. Just before the Velvet Revolution of 1989, it provided sanctuary for thousands of East German refugees who fled the Soviets. They left their cars and climbed the fence; statues remain to signify the abandoned cars. It also signified the Czech government’s defiance against the notion of the “Iron Curtain” that Soviets put on many Central European nations. Months later, the Berlin Wall fell).
In the 1930s, a new generation of Lobkowicz men married women whom they loved—not merely based on aristocratic rules. Thus, succession of the title passed to Jaroslav Alois, and he became the 11th Prince of Lobkowicz, 5th Duke of Roudnice, and Count of Sternstein. As a Czech nobleman, he joined 85 others and signed the National Declaration of Czech Nobility of 1939 at Prague Castle. It proved that the nobility was anti-German; they were diehard Czechs. They disliked the Nazi Party that swelled in Germany via violence and illegal intimidation. Despite that solidarity, the signers were easily identifiable to Nazis who wanted to be rid of any aristocracy. Nazis overran the nation and abolished the Czech nobility. Most of the family’s priceless artwork was stolen by Nazis because Adolf Hitler wanted them in his gallery in Linz, Austria. After being the last chamberlain to Austria’s Emperor Franz Joseph, the twelfth prince died in exile in France in 1954.
The ninth prince’s son, Maximilian, escaped to London, where he worked as his government-in-exile’s ambassador to England. In 1940, Nazis bombardiers flew over London for their Blitz Bombings, so he sent his preteen son, Martin, to live in Boston, USA. Martin’s career began as a door-to-door Fuller Brush salesman. Eventually, he made an income as a stockbroker. His son, William (born in 1961 in Boston), attended Harvard University to study European History and Music. He worked as a banker and realtor. He married a lady named Alexandra Florescu, from one of Romania’s oldest noble families. When his homeland regained its independence, Czech politicians broadcast global pleas for citizens—of all social strata—to return. Unique in Europe, the government vowed to return all assets to their rightful owners. The princely family was glad to come home, and they were astounded to have almost all of their former ancestral assets returned to them! William avenged the family by toiling in the Czech Republic to get their assets.
After thousands of paperwork applications, the family reclaimed 10 castles, 25,000 acres of fertile land, 20,000 masterpieces of art, and a massive library of rare books and documents. 700 manuscripts were written before the 1500s. The recouped Roudnice Castle. It’s the fourth-largest in the nation, and it was begun in the 1300s. Martin was born there. When the Soviets confiscated it in 1948, they killed the family’s archivist who was there. Now, the family’s winery produces a lovely Saint Laurent that was considered great enough to serve to Queen Elizabeth during her State Visit to Prague. The family retains the ruins of Strekov Castle, built in 1316 for John of Luxembourg (father of Charles IV) and owned by their ancestor since 1563. In 1843, those ruins inspired Wagner to compose his opera, Tannhauser. They also regained Lucerna Palace in Prague.
Lobkowicz Palace was opened to the public in 2007. After being confiscated twice, it is magically miraculous that the structure remained undamaged. It was lovingly restored into the Lobkowicz Collections, Museum, and Café. It’s the oldest and largest “intact” private art collection in the Czech Republic. William Lobkowicz is charge of it.
His companies manage the family’s winery at Roudnice Castle (owned since 1603), Nelahozevs Castle (owned since 1623, with its village and vineyards), and Usti nad Labem (owned since 1574). Of their three children, his son, William Rudolf (born in Boston in 1994), is the most enthused with their palace at Prague Castle. It contains 5,000 pieces of music by significant composers—including original handwritten manuscripts by Joseph Haydn, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, and Ludwig van Beethoven (who wrote his Third Symphony for Napoleon Bonaparte but dedicated it to the seventh Prince of Lobkowicz). Beethoven’s fifth and sixth symphonies were also dedicated to the family. Haydn composed Lobkowicz Quartets for the generous family. During the lockdown of the COVID pandemic, William Rudolf participated in an online video made by “Honest Guide” to make the palace accessible to global audiences. We watched it before our trip, and we loved its authenticity and modesty!
The 28-years-old prince earnestly strives to preserve his family’s 700-year heritage. He’s talented with web-based promotion and the sharing of knowledge online… which draws greater crowds who want to see the masterpieces in-person. That is truly a fine example of noblesse-oblige.
Clearly, the noble family has natural instincts of stewardship and preservation… which are much better than overdevelopment from greedy corporate developers or governmental agencies of prior regimes. He is also a prince, and his father is one.
In 1624, Emperor Ferdinand III—who was crowned in the castle and married three times—elevated the men of the family to the rank of Prince of the Empire. (That title was bestowed on allies and friends of the Habsburgs because they needed Catholic supporters to counter-balance the German aristocrats who left Catholicism’s corruption to become Protestant and Lutheran). The head of the Lobkowicz Family was one of the first noblemen to receive the new title. His name was Zdenko, and his male descendants still use that hereditary title. Therefore, there were two titles of “Prince” in the family. (In 1641, he was granted lordship over a fiefdom named Sternstein. That remains part of the family’s title). So, even though William Rudolf’s ancestor renounced the title of Prince of Lobkowicz, the men who lived in America retained the hereditary titles as Princes of the Empire. So, they are technically entitled (pun intended) to use that title—even though it has no legal meaning in the modern country. As modern nobles, they do their best to support their heritage, and they share—for a fair fee—access to their family’s vast treasures.
The palace has 20 rooms on each level, and visitors can explore 10 per level. There is so much to see—with revolving exhibits—that visitors can easily find reasons to return for more exploration. In addition, the family sponsors a multiplicity of concerts, recitals, lectures, and events at the palace—almost every day! That’s impressive.
Our tickets included Audio Guides, which were informative in a conversational way. We ascended the grand stairwell, which coils upward with windows overlooking the street. Visitors go all the way upstairs to start on the Second Level (Americans call it the Third) and then they work their way downward. A foyer provided bios about the princely family. Here are exceptional members:
The 3rd Prince, Ferdinand-August, served as a Privy Councilor and married two princesses. He was known for his penchant of fine artwork. The 4th Prince was a connoisseur of great music, and his brother was the Governor of Sicily (a dominion of the Habsburgs) in 1732 and the Field Marshal of Transylvania. The 6th Prince, Ferdinand Philipp, supported King Frederick the Great against Austria. Despite that, nobody seemed to care, and in 1753 he was able to get another palace in Prague: Kvasejovic Palace (built with grandiosity in 1702 and named for its builder: Count Kvasejovic). In 1927, they sold it to the Czech government. In 1948, it was the embassy for the People’s Republic of China. In 1974, it became the embassy for Germany. The Germans still occupy it, and that seems ironic because the Germans occupied all of the family’s assets during WWII. The 7th Prince, Joseph, received a royal decree to become the 1st Duke of Roudnice. At age 14, he was a skilled musician and vocalist. Throughout his life (1772 to 1816), he financed many famous works.
Moving in a clockwise way, Lewis and I ventured through a series of elegant chambers. A central courtyard provided sunlight through many windows. Due to the odd shape of the palace—being confined within the medieval castle walls—many rooms are not square; they have angled walls that slant inward. That is the quirky fun of an old building.
The first rooms were portrait galleries, and we were interested in the fashions and hairstyles as much as the intriguing facts about each person. Two important characters were Vratislav Pernstein and his daughter, Polyxena. The first Prince of Lobkowicz, Zdenko Popel, had his portrait near one of Emperor Rudolf II. Beneath the paintings, was an altarpiece that was a wedding gift from Rudolf II.
The portrait of Polyxena mentioned the tale of how she hid two royal delegates who her countrymen threw out of a window in the castle in 1618 because both men were Catholic. They landed in piles of manure and fled to this palace at the end of the castle. It seems like they received sanctuary with her until they could escape. We saw a painting by Vaclav Brozik of her defending those Austrian emissaries in her palace (the one we stood in).
Their expulsion triggered the Thirty Years War. Polyxena von Pernstein came from another noble Czech family. Her father was a Grand Chancellor of Bohemia—managing the kingdom while the emperor lived in Austria. She was the widow-heiress of the vastly-rich Rosenberg family. Her father bequeathed his palace to her, which he got special permission to build inside Prague Castle during the 1580s. It is now the Lobkowicz Palace. In the 1650s, her husband bequeathed Roundice Castle to her. (Roundice is 20 miles north of Prague and was built in the 1100s to guard a river-crossing that was used heavily for commerce. The mammoth building is still owned by the family).
Her first husband died early, so she married Zdenek Popel Lobkowicz. In that era, a woman’s wealth diverted to her husband.
Next, we arrived in a room that was full of rare Ceramics & Porcelain. The family owns the largest collection of antique Delftware, made in the Netherlands. Dishes and stemware from the medieval era were impressive to see: old-world glass-blowing techniques and long-gone craftsmanship. Remember that when potters needed colors for their creations, they had to create the pigments by pulverizing rare stones and ingredients. Some colors were very expensive. It’s miraculous that so many fragile items survived centuries of use/storage… in a city with such a tumultuous history.
From there, we entered the Treasury Room. A broad painting by Lucas Cranach the Elder was titled The Virgin and Child with Saint Barbara and Saint Catherine of Alexandria. It is extremely valuable, and its size is rare because it dates from the 12th century.
Coming around the corner of the palace, we entered the Armory: spears, halberds, battle-axes, swords, crossbows, muskets, rifles, breastplates, and helmets—ranging from the 1600s to the 1800s. Once again, the craftsmanship was astounding—especially the woodwork and intricate inlay carvings on rifles.
One depicted a nude couple romping on a meadow. That’s unusual for a weapon.
The adjoining space included musical heritage owned/preserved by the Lobkowicz family. First, we admired string instruments and horns made during the Baroque era. The connecting room showcased masterpieces funded/collected by the 7th Prince. Highlights included a first edition of Georg Handel’s The Creation, as well as first editions of Beethoven’s Symphonies: #3, 4, and 5!
In the Music Exhibition, we saw the handwritten manuscript for Part III of Messiah, composed by George Frederic Handel. He lived from 1685 until 1759. In 1756, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart was born as a musical prodigy. When he worked for the emperor in Vienna, Handel’s music enjoyed a revival of popularity, so Mozart “modernized” the music. Mozart’s composition of Handel’s Messiah premiered in 1789, and the mastermind conducted the orchestra. In 1803, the Lobkowicz family purchased Mozart’s signed version of Messiah. Lewis and I were awed to see that classic score in a display case! It’s the only surviving section of that precious masterpiece. If you love classical music, it’s mesmerizing to see Mozart’s penmanship and how he scribbled notes (musical notes) for musicians to read.
We also saw a transcription of Mozart’s opera, Don Giovanni, written in 1800 for the princely family. Across the room, we saw a signed manuscript of Ezio by Christoph Gluck in 1750. His father worked for the family as a forester, but Gluck rose in prominence as a composer in Prague. Those are reasons why the Lobkowicz Palace is one of the most significant cultural sites in the Czech Republic.
Against the next corner, everyone paused to study an expansive painting by Pieter Bruegel the Elder, titled Haymaking. Made in 1565, it signified a shift in art to include the peasantry: simple, every-day, working-class activities. The crux of daily life that made a nation what it was: the raw materials that were essential for a society to flourish.
Two more chambers displayed paintings, and they saved the grandest for last: London: The River Thames on Lord Mayor’s Day and The River Thames Looking Towards Westminister from Lambeth… both by Canaletto.
We went downstairs, and the tour continued in a counterclockwise way.
We began in the Princess Ernstine Room, which reminded us of rooms in the palaces of Valencia that we visited last year. The highlight was a self-portrait by her.
The Bird Room and Dog Room followed, and you can guess the themes of their decorations.
Further inward, we paused in the Chinoiserie Room. Most noble families had a room dedicated to Asian art because Asian cultures were venerated in that era. While ancient Europe was still learning how to do basic things, the ancient Chinese already mastered how to make dyes (for colors), porcelain, gunpowder, whistles, kites, toothbrushes, paper, compasses, silk, acupuncture, cast-iron, wheelbarrows, crossbows, and moveable type (precursor to the printing press).
A corner room was named Prince Mortiz Room (with a portrait of Princess Leopoldine of Lobkowicz).
The doorway connected to the Music Room. It was a long area for concerts to entertain the princely family through the centuries. Onward, we admired the Rococo Room; it signified an architectural shift from Baroque—which had flourishes but some restraint—to unstoppable “over the top” effervescence. Lewis and I prefer Baroque. At the next corner, we found ourselves in the largest room, aptly named Balcony Room because you have access to the famed balcony.
As tantalizing as the antiques are, the mid-16th-century palace has another treat! Enjoying its prime location within the castle, it has balconies with breathtaking views of the capital. One is within the café, and the other is accessible from the ballroom. Exiting from the ballroom onto the balcony, we joined a pair of police officers to admire the view. Leaning on the balustrade, we gleefully enjoyed a broad vista, and we peered down at the terraced gardens on the hillside. It was a quiet moment that impressed upon us the special essence of the city.
When he was the Prince of Wales, King Charles of the U.K. visited Prague in 1991 with Princess Diana. He was quoted, “I must confess that I fell rather hopelessly in love with the city when I first came here… and not only with the city, but a large part of the country, as well.” Enamored with the historical preservation, he established the Prague Heritage Fund. It especially sustains the terraced gardens near the castle, and it was ratified by the Czech president and the Mayor of Prague.
In 1994, Charles made his third visit. After marrying his true love, Camilla, he took her to Prague for his fifth official visit. The duke and duchess got a tour from the mayor of most of the gardens throughout the capital.
The ducal pair loved the castle’s gardens as a cultural site that sustains peaceful greenery in the middle of the busy city. Thanks to their support, millions of people enjoy those old gardens as public greenways.
Lewis and I stood in a privately-owned palace, inside the world’s largest ancient castle—within a UNESCO World Heritage Site—and admired the panoramic views of Prague’s skyline. It seemed magical. The princely Lobkowicz family provided pamphlets that identify the buildings seen from the balcony: a prestigious view that continues uninterrupted for centuries. Lewis and I recognized Petrin Tower, Saint Nicholas Church, Augustine Hotel, Wallenstein Gardens, Klementium Monastery, Zizkov TV Tower, National Theatre, Dancing House, Old Town Hall, and the Charles Bridge. The pamphlet helped us notice the Vysehrad Fortress, Rudolfinum Hall, and the Church of Our Lady Victorious.
Just then, we heard a commotion of drums and chants echoing upward, and I saw the police staring nonchalantly at a group of protesting farmers at Valdštejnské Náměstí (Wallenstein Square)—far below. Their tractors and trucks circled the Senate building.
The Senate occupies the former Wallenstein (a.k.a. Waldstein) Palace, built in 1623 by a duke named Albrecht von Wallenstein, who was Emperor Ferdinand II’s commander-in-chief of imperial troops during the Thirty Years War. Alas, the duke’s machinations caused the emperor to mistrust and detest him, so the nobleman was executed by royal command in 1634. Nonetheless, the Italian-style palace remained in the Wallenstein family until 1945. Its designer was Giovanni de Galliano Peironi, whose father was the architect for the Medici banking family in Florence. It’s a gargantuan residence, with four garden courtyards, three arcades, a riding arena, loggia, aviary, Baroque-style grotto, chapel, and ornate stucco pavilions. It seemed suitable for an ancient Czech noble family that existed since the Přemyslid Dynasty. Unfortunately, its last owner joined the Nazi Party. The property was repurposed by the Czech government. Since 2001, it is used by the parliament’s Senate, and the structure is a National Cultural Monument.
Coming inside from the balcony, double doors led into the Concert Room. It was a long room that hosts weekly concerts for Praguers (for a modest fee) and provides income to the palace. In 2018, Prince Alois of the royal family of Liechtenstein was feted there for the creation of the Czech/Liechtenstein Society. It was arranged by the principality’s ambassador. (After WWI, the Prince of Liechtenstein lost his properties on Czech soil due to “land reforms” that ousted German-speaking foreigners. Before that, the Liechtenstein Palace in Lesser Town was allowed to deteriorate with disuse until the princely family sold it. Since 2009, both nations improved their relations).
An offshoot from that room is the Family Chapel, adorned in scarlet hues over dark wood. It’s incredible that in a city with churches on every-other street (and two located within 100 meters of the palace), a family would install their own chapel. That’s a lot of praying. However, the chapel allowed the family to pray without getting dressed-up for church.
At that point, the Audio Guides provided a summary of the family’s arduous efforts of restitution, so they could reclaim their heritage for public enjoyment. Self-guided tours are predicted to last for 75 minutes, but we invested 120! The palace is a treasure-trove of wonderous antiques and rare handmade beauties.
Lewis and I visited the Gift Shop and browsed clever items that Prince William and Prince William Rudolf selected as souvenirs. The items were cleverer than the ones in the castle’s Gift Shop. We purchased a bottle of the family’s wine from their vineyard at Roudnice Castle, priced at $10. The 2022 vintage was made with Muller-Thurgau white grapes, and the family’s coat of arms was displayed. Last year, it won the Gold Medal in the National Wine Competition, awarded by the Czech Winemaking Guild.
*To see when we bought a bottle of wine in Berlin made by a German prince, please use this link: https://halfwindsorfullthrottle.blogspot.com/2022/11/our-trip-to-berlin-germany-part-1-of-6.html
The noble family produces a beer named Slechtic Mezi Pivy at a brewery that they owned for centuries.
Bilinska Kyselka is a brand of spring water made at a castle that the family sold, yet it proudly brandishes the family’s coat of arms on its label as part of its heritage. Erected in the 1200s, Bilina Castle is near the mountains and is famous for curative spa waters. The family obtained it in 1502. By 1664, mineral water from the local springs was being sold. In 1702, Princess Eleonore Lobkowicz began the operation of inviting guests to use the spa. The family operated a water-bottling busines, and a professional spa was established in 1870 that still makes profits. It was sold to a private company in 1997.
Exiting the palace and looking right, we saw the castle’s East Gate. The four-sided Black Tower soared overhead to protect it. Retaining its qualities from 1135, it is a reminder of the castle’s original Romanesque fortifications.
At that time, Prince Sobeslav Přemysl established his royal court at the castle, and the tower was created as a gate. He also erected the White Tower and South Tower to guard the castle’s entrances. In the 1200s, the Black Tower got a conical roof. Charles IV gilded it to enhance the city’s reputation as “golden”. In the 1400s, signalmen lived there to act as lookouts and warn the garrisons of any approaching enemies. Unfortunately, lighting struck it in 1538, and it burned. The Great Fire of 1541 blackened it so badly that it forever earned the name of Black Tower.
Lewis and I exited through the tunnel in the gate. Outside, we saw guardhouses on either side, and a policeman stood near a booth. Visitors photographed the Castle Guards (the policeman didn’t get any attention), and others flocked to the side of the cobblestone road to take photos of the cityscape. We had a better idea, so we proceeded farther.
Saint Wenceslas’ Vineyard exists near the “back” of the castle by the East Gate. It’s amazing that the metropolitan milieu is enhanced with a vineyard—one of six! (Does your city have vineyards?) It is accessible to anyone, and it sits precipitously on the slope.
It’s the oldest vineyard in the nation because it was planted by Saint Wenceslas in the early 900s. Two grapes are cultivated: Pinot Noir and Riesling. The winery has a restaurant that serves seasonal wine-themed food. For 370 crowns, we bought two small portions of their red and white wines. We sat on the hilltop in the midst of a UNESCO World Heritage Site and sipped rare local wine whilst gazing over the rooftops of the one of the most beautiful capitals in the world. Terraced gardens cascaded beneath us. Ahh! That was a glorious way to conclude our castle exploration! *To see when we discovered an organic farm and dairy within the cosmopolitan vibe of Oslo, please use this link: https://halfwindsorfullthrottle.blogspot.com/2023/08/our-trip-to-oslo-norway-bgdoy-royal.html
Afterwards, we descended the Old Castle Stairs. Installed in the hill in the 1600s and redone in 2009, the steps are a public route between Lesser Town and the castle’s East Gate. The length is 230 meters, with 120 steps. Being smart, Lewis and I knew to exit the castle there and go DOWN the stairs. (Most visitors arrive at the Metro station and exert themselves going UP. Then, they are tired). The beautiful stonework provides a wonderful view of the capital.
The shallowness yet broadness of the steps—while being against a wall on one side—reminded us of exploring the Great Wall of China! As we descended, we saw pretty homes and gardens that hug the stairway. *To see our adventure on the Great Wall, please use this link: https://halfwindsorfullthrottle.blogspot.com/2014/11/our-trip-to-china-part-ii-great-wall.html
Please join us for the next segment!
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