Bauer Villa and Czech Cubism Diary

November 6, 2013 by Tracy's Travels

Bauer Villa

I had traveled with Arsviva, a Czech tour company that specialized in trips that emphasized art and architecture, to Sicily for 11 days in May and had enjoyed a thrilling experience full of breathtaking sights, all made more fascinating thanks to a terrific guide. This time I was on a day trip to sample Cubist architecture in central Bohemia. As we started out at seven in the morning, I thought to myself how I had always been attracted to Cubism and to the way the style assembled shapes in abstract forms utilizing many perspectives. I had found the Pablo Picasso museums in Paris and Barcelona to be breathtaking. Georges Braque’s work also bewitched me, especially in the Centre Georges Pompidou. In terms of Czech Cubism, I was most drawn to the paintings of Josef Čapek, who had also, along with his exceptionally talented brother Karel, scribed some impressive plays.

First, we went to the Evangelist church in the village of Pečky. The monument to Jan Hus near the church reminded me of the first time I had seen the monument to the 15^th century martyr on Prague’s Old Town Square, a place where I immediately felt a sense of belonging during my visit as a tourist in 1991. Hus had been a Czech priest, reformer, philosopher and teacher who was burned at the stake on July 6, 1415 for not preaching according to the doctrines of the Catholic Church; he stands out as a leading light of the Bohemian protestant reformation.

Evangelist church interior

Designed by Oldřich Liška, the Cubist interior dated from 1914 to 1919. The church was adorned in new modern style with Cubist features. The pews, the pulpit and the organ all exhibit Cubist tendencies. Inside the church I was especially captivated by the four Cubist chandeliers and the star patterns engraved on the sides of the wooden pews. The Cubist elements blended in with the relatively stark interior, not making a glaring, loud appearance but rather embracing the church in a subtle, sensitive style.

Cubist chandeliers

Next, the bus took me and the other 40-some passengers to another village called Libodřice, where, all of a sudden, a Cubist villa magically appeared. No other Cubist villa was located in the Czech countryside, I would find out. I was instantly reminded of a Cubist villa in the Vyšehrad district of Prague. I had walked by it every day on my way home from the when I lived below Vyšehrad hill. Passing by such an architectural wonder every day made me feel calm, momentarily at peace with the world and all the wonders it brings.

I was especially drawn to the framed windows of the Bauer Villa, decorated in star patterns. The large mansard roof blended into the design as well. The abstract, broken shapes appealed to me. The villa boasted block stereometric articulation. Stereometric encompasses forms such as the cone, cube, pyramid and sphere – geometric shapes. Three polygonal buttresses were combined on one side of the villa. I was impressed with the slanted form of the main cornice, too. There were not just Cubist elements apparent inside and outside the villa; the entire building embraced the style in a form that did not disturb the tranquil landscape.

Legendary Czech architect Josef Gočár, who made a name for himself during the early 20^th century in the Czech lands, designed the Bauer villa early in his career, between 1912 and 1914. Later, this pioneer of architecture would devote time to the styles of Rondocubism, Functionalism and Constructivism. His works are scattered throughout the Czech landscape, featured in Prague, Pardubice and Hradec Králové, for instance. Gočár had studied under the tutelage of famous Czech architect Jan Kotěra, who had was influenced by late 19^th century styles along with Modernism. In 1911 Gočár chaired the Cubist Group of Visual Artists. Its members included Pavel Janák (who had also worked with Kotěra); the Čapek brothers; Otto Gutfreund, a renowned sculptor who also fought in the Foreign Legion during World War I; and Vlastislav Hofman, who was accomplished in architecture, painting, graphic art, furniture design and writing. Hofman even designed about 400 sets for plays, including 200 for Prague’s National Theatre. A year later Gočár helped set up the Prague Art Workshops, designing Cubist furniture with Janák, who is best known for designing the Baba colony residential area in Prague’s sixth district.

Gazebo at Bauer Villa

Gočár’s first major projects included a staircase for the Church of the Virgin Mary on a square in Hradec Králové during 1909 and 1910. In 1910 he also designed the living quarters of a cavalry barracks in Bohdaneč. In Pardubice during 1909 to 1911 he designed the Winternitz automated mill and also concentrated on the Wenke department store in Jaroměř. In 1912 he was one of many Czech artists to convert to Cubism, utilizing simple geometric shapes juxtaposed without illusions of classical perspective. He teamed up with Janák to build the first Czech Cubist building in Prague – the reinforced concrete House of the Black Madonna, which featured angular, bay windows, a Baroque double roof and Cubist ironwork on the balcony. Like the Bauer Villa, the House of the Black Madonna did not interfere with the atmosphere. Instead, it complemented the historic environment of downtown Prague.

The Bauer Villa was constructed for Jewish entrepreneur Adolf Bauer, who owned the manor farm estate. The investor and his family lived there from 1914 to 1929, when Bauer died of diabetes. Bauer’s widow remarried and moved to Prague with her two daughters, and from 1931 Antonín Illmann took care of the villa and the farm. The Jewish Bauer family was sent to their deaths during World War II. In 1941 Nazi Augustin Juppe moved in to what had been the Bauer family home. After the war the villa was occupied by administrative offices of the City Council. A hairdresser’s salon, a library and a few apartments also took up space in the villa.

The back of the Bauer Villa

Finally gaining recognition, the Bauer Villa was accorded the status of a cultural monument in 1987. Despite that, it became more and more dilapidated. Its poor condition finally led the municipality to sell it in 2002 to the Foundation of Czech Cubism. Extensive reconstruction costing approximately 25 million Czech crowns took place, and the Cubist creation was open to the public during 2008.

The expositions in the villa featured Cubist furniture, ceramics, paintings and sculptures as well as informative displays about the Bauer family, Gočár and about Czech Cubism in general. Today there is not much original furniture in the villa, though a few pieces had been salvaged – the fireplace, a wooden closet and the bathroom tiles.

The central staircase hall had been inspired by British villa architecture. I was reminded of the staircase hall in Dušan Jurkovič’s villa in Brno. At the beginning of the tour, I was impressed with a unique coat rack in Cubist style and two chandeliers, one made by Janák and another by Ladislav Machoň, who would become a prominent exponent of Art Deco and Functionalist styles. Machoň’s designs dot Prague. His interior of the Law Faculty of Charles University is probably his best known work. There was also a dark, gloomy painting of Faust on one wall of the Bauer Villa. I wondered how the theme of Faust fit in with the Cubist movement, if indeed it did.

In the bedroom I noticed a still life painting with a goblet by František Volf and a bewitching, black Cubist chandelier. The bedroom was joined with a bathroom on the ground floor. Usually, during that period, the bedroom and bathroom would be situated on the first floor. The living room featured furniture made by Hofman in 1911 and 1912, a wall clock and chandelier. I was especially intrigued by the Cubist flower pot with its cover in the same style. Then, again in the hallway, I admired the linocuts by Václav Špála and Josef Čapek, two of my favorite Czech Cubist artists.

The Bauer Villa

Then we went upstairs via a beautiful staircase. Exhibition Room II featured furniture by Gočár and sculptures by Gotfreund. In his sculpture “Anxiety” I was aware of a certain tension permeating from the female’s drapery. This work, made between 1911 and 1912, was considered the first Cubist sculpture, though the one in the room was not the original. Other objects on the first floor included tea cups, metal and brass boxes and vases designed by Hofman and Janák. The bedroom was Hofman’s design from 1912 to 1914 with a black Cubist bed, more sculpture by Gotfreund and a chandelier hailing from that era. The study featured the style of Rondocubism, an offshoot on Cubism born after the creation of Czechoslovakia in 1918. Rondocubism featured folk and nationalistic themes with curls, circles and folkloristic elements. I was especially impressed with Janák’s green chair made of walnut.

Our guide had been informative and enthusiastic, and I was excited that I discovered another gem in the Czech Republic. I thought this would be a good half-day trip from Prague for foreigners visiting the capital city, but I doubted any tour agency offered such an excursion. The arsviva tour company’s excursions were in Czech, so it would only appeal to foreigners who were fluent in the language. I understood why Karlštejn Castle and Konopiště Chateau drew so many crowds, but still it was, I felt, highly regrettable too that such an extraordinary Cubist villa in the countryside should remain relatively unknown.

Kotěra Chateau

Next on the itinerary was the Ratboř Chateau, also called the Chateau Kotěra, built between 1910 and 1913 for Bernard Mandelík, who owned a manor farm estate and sugar refinery. The new chateau (as opposed to the old chateau also on the estate) was designed in Czech modern style by Kotěra and served as a restaurant and hotel. It is notable architecturally for its vestibule, staircase and entrance to the restaurant as well as for its guest rooms. The building is frequently used for weddings and conferences, too, and it had its own parkland.

A large, circular fountain stands in front of the façade. The cupola is decorated with two statues by legendary Czech sculptor Jan Štursa, who founded Czech modernist sculpture and was also an influential pedagogue. He began his career inspired by the symbolism of the Viennese Secession, and after World War I concentrated on depicting the horror and tragedies of wartime. He created a Cubist relief for the Mánes Bridge in Prague.

Fountain at the Chateau Kotěra

In the first guest room we saw a bookcase that had been designed by Adolf Loos, who was known for his lack of ornamentation. A severe critic of the Viennese Secession when the movement had been in full swing, the Brno-born architect who had spent much time in Austria had focused on purism and minimalistic design. The walls were decorated in green and blue with a lovely plant motif.

Cubist furniture

Another space featured original furniture, including a bed with canopy, table and bookcases. From the terrace there was an impressive view of the fountain and surrounding greenery with sculptures. It was also possible to see the statues on the cupola from a riveting, close perspective. A medallion sporting the letter “M” standing for the Mandelíks in green with dark brown wood decorated the railing. In another bedroom I was impressed with a Cubist bedframe and a Cubist chandelier that spoke of simplicity with a sense of style.

Cupola of Chateau Kotěra

After lunch we visited Cubist creations in Kolín and Poděbrady. In Kolín I saw the main square for the first time, and the Neo-Renaissance town hall caught my attention as did the Baroque facades, plague column and fountain. We gazed at Rondocubist apartment buildings dating from 1921 to 1923, the former town savings bank from 1926, the municipal theatre dating from 1937 to 1939 and a high school with magnificent Cubist elements, especially the windows, designed in 1924. The bridge across the Labe River was architecturally impressive and had been built during the 1920s.

Cubism in Kolín

In the spa town of Poděbrady, we walked through a beautiful park and a neighborhood rich with villas with Cubist elements. At our second to last stop, in Poděbrady, we were able to admire the Amálka Villa from 1910, the Kouřimka Villa from 1909 to 1910 and the Obereigner Villa from 1898. We also took in the spa buildings on the promenade, fascinating structures designed by František Janda from 1907 to 1911. Previously, I had only changed trains or buses in Poděbrady, never realizing how much there is to see here.

Cubism in Poděbrady

While we were in Poděbrady, we had extra time to spend in a café famous for its desserts. Unfortunately, it was also famous for its poor service as it took the waiters an agonizingly long time to fetch coffees and cakes. I was joined by a friendly and interesting family, an adult son with his parents. He had given his parents this trip as a Christmas present the previous year. I talked to them about my baseball and ice hockey careers growing up, attending Jaromír Jágr’s summer training camp in Slaný and sights I had seen in the Czech Republic. The father and I reminisced about Czech and Slovak hockey players who had defected to the NHL some decades ago. For me the names Peter Šťastný and Milan Nový brought back childhood memories. In my opinion, the highlight of any tour was meeting nice people, no matter how exciting the particular excursion might be. I have had some negative experiences in the country over 21 years, but meeting kind Czechs always has always made the hardships worthwhile.

Cubist facade in Poděbrady

On the way back to Prague, we stopped at the Beniesova Villa in Lysá nad Labem. The villa, created by Emil Kralíček for the owner of a sugar refinery, is known for its big entrance hall with light roof window in the shape of the Star of David and crystal motives that denoted the process of manufacturing sugar. It was sad, though, to find the villa in such a dilapidated state. The villa was fenced off; there was no possibility to see what sounded like a ravishing interior. If only someone had donated enough money to restore it to its original beauty. . . . If only. . . . It depressed me to think that people could let such architectural wonders fall into such poor condition, that there was not enough money to restore significant buildings to their former splendor.

My depression ceased by the time we returned to Prague around seven in the evening. I felt grateful that I had had the opportunity to make new friends and to go on such a fascinating excursion.

Tracy A. Burns is a writer, proofreader and editor in Prague.

Beniesova Villa

Slatiňany Chateau Diary

October 20, 2013 by Tracy's Travels

I was excited. I was actually travelling to a chateau I had never been to. This was not a return visit after a 10 or 12-year absence. I had not even known that Slatiňany existed before I flipped through a book listing all the castles and chateaus in the land and came upon the page by accident. Then, at Žleby Chateau, I heard the chateau’s name connected to the Auersperg family, who owned both properties for more than 200 years.

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The tranquil Winter Garden as seen in 2024

This time I had to change trains at Pardubice, an hour from Prague, and then I had about 20 minutes before the next train. For the first time I took the Student Agency Regio Jet and found that company’s trains to be just as comfortable and relaxing as their conspicuous yellow buses. Student Agency got me to Pardubice on time, a little after 8:30. I had time to use the public restroom at Pardubice’s train station and was surprised that at the station of a relatively good-sized city the toilets did not flush. But I guess that is just life traveling through the Czech Republic.

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The large painting with a hunting theme in the Big Dining Room

I caught the local train – a new one with a clean interior – without any delay and was in Slatiňany in about half an hour. From the miserable little train station there, it was a short, straight walk to the chateau. I arrived there a bit before 10 am, when the place would open. I admired the side of the chateau facing the walkway. It was white with painted squares that reminded me of the Renaissance sgraffito façade of Litomyšl Chateau, though it was not at all that extravagant.

I also had time to take a peek at the small church nearby. Very quaint and intimate, it was designed with a partial rotunda. I peered through the open door, but it was dark inside. Still, I did make out a stunning altarpiece and some impressive paintings. I would have loved to go inside this church because the intimate atmosphere of the small, relatively plain but compelling interior made me feel at ease. It seemed to be a good place to meditate about life and its problems.

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A look at the interior as viewed in 2024

At 10:00 am I entered the courtyard of the chateau. A statue with natural rock at its base showed off a small sculpture of a man on a horse. At the ticket office I paid for a ticket to the chateau interior exhibition – there was also a hippology tour – and bought a guidebook. I read about the background of the chateau while I waited for the caretaker give the tour.

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Beautiful furniture as seen during a 2024 visit

At the end of the 13^th century, a medieval fortress had stood on this spot, and the first owner, František of Slatiňany, managed the stronghold from 1294 to 1297. One of the later medieval owners even had a claim to fame. Václav of Slatiňany had been one of the signatories on a petition arguing against killing Jan Hus, who was accused of heresy against the Catholic Church and burned at the stake in July of 1415. (Hus was a key player in the development of the Protestant movement.)

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From 2024 trip to the chateau

Slatiňany was destroyed by fire several times. When Bohuslav Mazanec of Frymburk purchased the medieval fortress in 1575, he began to give the place a Renaissance makeover, and the renovations continued after his death in 1589. Not only was the chateau designed in Renaissance fashion but a mill, vineyard, brewery and malt house were also added.

A turning point in Slatiňany’s history came when Josef František, Count of Schönberg, bought the chateau in 1732 and had it rebuilt in Baroque style. A key event occurred when his only daughter, Marie Kateřina, married Jan Adam of Auersperg in 1746.

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From 2024 trip

Then the chateau became the property of the Auersperg family, who would rule here for 200 years, until World War II. The chateau got its present appearance from 19^th century renovations during the Auerspergs’ tenure here. In 1942 the chateau became the property of Dr. Josef Karel Trauttmansdorff, who was from an Austrian noble family. After the war, it was nationalized, according to the Beneš decrees, which took away property possessed by Germans during the war. Since Trauttmansdorff had been Austrian, his properties had to be nationalized, the decrees declared.

In the tiny entranceway hung portraits of horses – there was a horse farm and a hippology museum on the chateau land as well. Another black-and-white portrait showed a bald, distinguished looking mustached man who the guide referred to as the popular and significant František Josef, Count of Schönberg. A bison featured prominently on the family’s coat-of-arms that was placed above the portrait. The caretaker explained that this is where the Auerspergs had lived – it was a sort of family home – as opposed to Žleby Chateau, which functioned more as a museum for all those weapons and tiled stoves among its monumental interior. Three of František Josef’s five children were born here – Kristína, Karolína and Ferdinand.

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From 2024 trip

The guide also emphasized that Slatiňany was a modern chateau. There had been heaters in the place since 1925. A boiler room, a dumb waiter and flushing toilets also made up the modern conveniences. As the guide opened a door off the entrance that had once led to the park and now contained many plants, he mentioned that in the mid-19^th century there had been tennis courts, a small house for dolls and a small chapel on the grounds. Now there was only a small chapel and lake in the impressive park that features many kinds of trees.

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From 2024 trip

We walked up the small, narrow main staircase after putting on house slippers. Upstairs the pristine-looking, white hallway boasted pink chairs plus two tables with green and white décor and brown tops. White, porcelain horses manned by riders in hunting dress were featured in a display case. I was entranced with a mirror’s frame – it was silver but also with pink and light blue decoration. The room was indeed modern with its radiators and porcelain light switch. The pictures in the room showed views of Vienna. I immediately spotted the Graben with its Plague Column.

The next room was used for official visits, the guide said as he expounded on the family members in the portraits. I was also very interested in the history of the objects in the small room with many items. The first thing I noticed when I entered the room, however, was not an object but rather a smell – the stench of horse dung. Horses grazed nearby on the property, and the windows were open. I tried to concentrate on the details all around me. Maroon chairs and a couch made the space look cozy, and brown bureaus seemed to include intarsia. I admired the mirror with the ornate gold frame – it had to be Rococo. The doors and walls were white with gold décor, giving the place a light and airy feel that contrasted in a positive way with the maroon color. I also admired a red, white and blue bowl on a brown table.

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The outdoor sculptural fountain in 2024

The following room was used for unofficial visits. Facing me was a huge picture of a rider on a horse with a blue landscape and trees in the background. I stood near a brown dresser with intarsia and noticed a desk with intarsia, too. The rocking horse looked as if it had real horse hair for its mane. The white with gold tiled stove had a decorative gold jug on its top. In a portrait Vilemína Auersperg, František Josef’s wife, was clad in a black dress and pearls. Blue and white porcelain also featured prominently in the room as did a picture of a one-year old František Josef.

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The sculptures of dogs on the outdoor fountain of the chateau in 2024

The bedroom included a lovely white desk with a white chair partially covered with lace. Religious paintings decorated the back of the bed. The white tiled stove with the blue décor had to be Rococo. Black-and-white engravings covered one wall. I noticed a quaint family scene with a mother, child and dog in one picture. Vilemína’s daughter Kristína had been born in this room on November 11, 1878. There were two secret doors in the space. One hid a flushing toilet. Behind the other was a toiletry corner with porcelain items that bore the stylized A for Auersperg. The guide showed us a small, elongated bowl from Karlovy Vary. What was it for? Women were supposed to urinate in it. Another narrow, elongated porcelain case was made for a toothbrush.

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The interior during 2024

In the Small Dining Room there was no table. However, there was a huge chandelier made in Murano. Hailing from the 18^th century, the lavish light fixture boasted green, pink, blue and white glass, with blue and white flowers and green leaf formations. A compelling tapestry depicted a scene in nature with a sculpture in the middle of a fountain. I was especially fond of the black-and-white jewel chest across from me. The grandfather clock had a beautiful, gold face. Black-and-white engravings with landscape scenes and portraits of animals covered the walls of the adjacent study.

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The chateau decor in 2024

Bookshelves lined two walls of the library, and there was a secret door in a bookcase. In one photo Ferdinand, František Josef’s youngest son and the last of the Auersperg clan, looked like a member of the Mafia in a bowler hat. The caretaker remarked that very few people had attended Ferdinand’s funeral in 1942.

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A bedroom of the chateau in 2024

The Big Dining Room was dominated by a painting that was longer than the wall on which it was hung. It depicted red coat-clad hunters preparing for a hunt as the hounds played in one corner, the background filled with a lush, green landscape. Dark green cups of various sizes stood out among the tableware. The white tiled stove boasted brown flower buds and green leaves.

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One of the beautiful tapestries in the chateau during 2024

Then we went down to the kitchen in the cellar. On a high shelf white with brown vases boasted the Auersperg A. We also went into the boiler room, though the small and big boilers were no longer functional. The technology of the boiler room hailed from the First Republic in Czechoslovakia during the early 20^th century.

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As furnished during 2024

There was also a museum of hippology at the chateau, though I did not have time to visit it. The founder of Czech zootechny and prominent geneticist František Bílek had founded it. After World War II, during 1945, there were not suitable stables or pastures for all the horses in the area, so some were sent to Slatiňany, where there were vast grasslands and stables built by the Auerspergs at the end of the 19^th century. Because there was a hippological tradition in eastern Bohemia, Professor Bílek decided to base the museum here. It included three sections: three representative rooms, five rooms of a scientific section and an exhibition of the horse in art. The scientific section focused on paleontology, zoology, anatomy and domestication. Another part centered on how the horse contributed to culture and society. The exhibits come from 122 Bohemian and Moravian castles and chateaus. The segment featuring the horse in art forms opened in 1950 while the scientific section was inaugurated two years later.

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An exquisite canopied bed on display during 2024

I was sorry I did not have time to tour the second exhibition, but I had to have lunch and catch two trains back to Prague before the evening. I had to admit that horses had never been my cup of tea, but the tour sounded exciting nonetheless. Instead of waiting around, I found a restaurant with an inconspicuous sign on the main street. The interior, though, was delightful. Some backs of chairs were carved as figures of knights. Others featured coats-of-arms. My chair had a picture of a reindeer on it. The restaurant was dark with an almost romantic ambience, though the loud children were hardly romantic. The chicken was delicious as was the honey cake I had for dessert.

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The interior as it looked during a 2024 visit

Then I headed for the dingy train station, and the train arrived soon. I was facing a dilemma, though. If this local train was on time, I would have seven minutes to change trains to Prague at Pardubice. If not, I would have an hour and a half to kill at the train station without flushing toilets. Even the chateau interior from the First Republic had flushing toilets! Why couldn’t the ones at the train station flush?

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Decor of the chateau in 2024

The local train did not let me down, and I was glad because I had to go to the bathroom. I made my connection in seven minutes, and I have never been happier to use a toilet on a train.

Tracy A. Burns is a writer, proofreader and editor in Prague.

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From a 2024 visit

An exquisite chandelier made in Murano

The black kitchen with its early 20th century appliances

The large black kitchen

Dobříš diary

October 17, 2013 by Tracy's Travels

I loved the cheerful red and yellow façade of this charming chateau only a half hour from Prague. The captivating exterior always put me in a good mood. The short bus ride had taken me into a different and exciting world.

Because it was my third visit to Dobříš, I was well aware of its history. Unlike many other chateaus, Dobříš did not emerge as a Gothic castle or medieval fortress. It was built as a Renaissance chateau at the end of the 16^th century when travelers stopped in the town on their way from Prague to Italy. The chateau was purchased by royal hunter Bruno Mannsfeld in 1630, beginning its long ties to that clan. It got a Baroque makeover at the end of the 17^th century, when its lush French and English gardens came into being. Although a fire devastated the chateau in 1720, the Baroque jewel was reconstructed by 1765.

The Colloredo family came into the picture when Marie Isabella, the daughter of Jindřich Pavel Mannsfeld, married František Gundakar Colloredo in 1771, and the new name of the owners became Colloredo-Mannsfeld. World War II brought dark days to the chateau. In 1942 Dobříš was confiscated by the Nazis and served as the seat of acting Protector of the Reich Kurt Daluage, who succeeded the assassinated Reinhard Heydrich that same year. Vikard Colloredo-Mannsfeld, the owner of the chateau during this turbulent time, refused to become a German citizen, taking a stance against the Nazis and targeted as an enemy of the Reich.

In 1945 the chateau was taken over by the state and became the property of the Writers’ Syndicate. As the Writers’ Home from the 1950s to 1990s, the chateau housed scribblers for stays that lasted a week or months. Writers’ conferences were held here, too. A stormy legal battle began in 1992 when Jerome Colloredo-Mannsfeld wanted the chateau and both parks returned. Six years later he got his wish, but he died that same year. Now his descendent, also Jerome Colloredo-Mannsfeld, owns the chateau.

Both representative rooms and former guest rooms make up the 11 spaces on the tour that lasted an hour and depicted the chateau during the Rococo and Classicist eras. This time I had my own guide, which is the way I preferred to see the interiors. We began in the Salla Terrena where the glazed doors once served as an entrance to the stunning French garden I loved so much. Both the captivating statues in the room and those in the park were the work of legendary 18^th century Czech sculptor František Ignác Platzer, who also designed the statue of Saint Norbert on the Charles Bridge and the ornamentation of Saint Nicholas Church in Prague’s Lesser Quarter. The walls of this space were decorated with hunting scenes.

The Hunting Lounge featured 18^th century wallpaper with hunting motifs. Admiring the hand-painted décor, I spotted three hunters relaxing in lush scenery, accompanied by a dog. I took note of the mixture of Classicist, Rococo and Louis XVI styles evident in the pieces of furniture. I found it intriguing that the legs of a chair fit into the Rococo style while the top part exuded Classicism. The exquisite chandelier hailed from Murano. Photos of the chateau from 1910 appeared throughout the rooms.

The Master Bedrooms were next. Although the furniture flaunted Classicist style, the desk in the space was Baroque. I was particularly drawn to the 18^th century armchair upholstered with Gobelin tapestry that showed Venus coming out the sea as she was born. I also adored the gilt Japanese vase that depicted scenes from the life of Buddha. The oldest picture in the chateau, dating from the 16^th century, showed Saint Jerome with a skull. The guide explained that St. Jerome was the patron saint of the Colloredo-Mannsfelds. Weird pictures on the drawer of an 18^th century ebony bureau depicted angels with instruments of torture.

The picture on an easel in the Italian Lounge was called Canal Grande an original rendition by 18^th century Venetian painter and printmaker Canaletto. I thought back to my short trip to Venice five years ago and recalled how I was bursting with energy each day. I wish I had that much energy now. How I had loved meandering down the deserted streets on a Sunday at 7 am! That was when I became hooked on cappuccino.

There were other paintings of Venice in the room, too, as I spotted a gondola and a carnival in full swing. Views of Naples and Messina also adorned the space. A Classicist screen held a compartment for letters. The 50-kilogram chandelier hailing from Murano was light blue and white with floral ornamentation. I loved Italian chandeliers. The tan furniture with black stripes fell into the Classicist category.

I tried to imagine an afternoon tea party in the Ladies’ Rocco Lounge with women relaxing on the maroon Rococo seats and sipping tea from Meissen porcelain cups while recounting anecdotes, telling jokes and complaining about their husbands. A display case with Dresden porcelain had a unique shape – it looked like a carriage. I imagined all the conversations that must have taken place under the Bohemian crystal chandelier hailing from the days of Holy Roman Empress Maria Theresa. Paintings of pastoral scenes rounded out the attractive room.

The first thing I noticed in the Ladies’ Bedroom was that the white bed with shell ornamentation looked too short, but I knew from other tours that people used to sleep sitting up or half-sitting. They were afraid they would die if they lay down, or women did not want to mess up their elaborate hairstyles. I was surprised to hear that the bed is actually two meters long. Ludwig XVI style furniture, harkening back to the 18^th century, was featured in this opulent décor. A copy of Raphael’s Madonna hung in the room. The guide told me a legend about the Venetian mirror: People who look into it will have their wishes fulfilled as long as they do not gaze into another mirror for a year.

The next room was totally different, seemingly from another world. This Writer’s Room was decorated the way the room would have looked when the chateau belonged to the Writers’ Union, from the 1950s to the 1990s. The space featured a modern bed, a typewriter, a record player and a modern bathroom with two tubs. The corridor in the chateau was home to intriguing, 18^th century pictures of Prague and Vienna. I spotted graphics of Schönbrunn Palace and its surroundings plus a forest with a church and a pond. In the section focusing on Prague I recognized Old Town Square with a plague column in the center and Týn Church’s spires in the background.

Measuring 220 square meters, the Hall of Mirrors was the largest room on the tour. It was also the most astounding. It was often used for weddings and concerts, and I recalled attending a concert here in the early 1990s when the chateau’s rooms were not open to the public. Certainly this fresco-filled hall was suitable for weddings with its stucco ceiling décor and other ornamentation dating back to the 18^th century. Craning my neck to see the ceiling fresco, I peered at a blue sky with angels fluttering to and fro. Allegories of the four seasons were painted above the door. The frescoes above the balcony represented the five senses. Eight Venetian chandeliers captured my attention. Two marble fireplaces on opposite sides of the room and two Czech crystal chandeliers added to the room’s opulence. Above one fireplace, Josefína Czernínová held a small dog in one hand. Opposite her, Jindřich Pavel Mannsfeld gripped construction plans in his right hand.

The Gobelin tapestry room charmed me with its tapestry upholstery on the furniture. I noted the armrests portraying scenes from Italian commedia dell’ arte performances. I especially admired the semi-precious stones in the 18^th century jewel chest made of black ebony. In a portrait Marie Isabella Mannsfeld wore an attractive pink dress and had her hair up in a bob. Vases with Oriental motifs were also enticing.

The Rococo Room or Music Room featured Rococo stucco wall décor. Vases dotted the room – some Japanese and others made of Viennese porcelain and sporting floral designs. I took special note of the four Venetian mirrors with gold frames. I loved Venetian mirrors despite their opulence! Above a dominating marble fireplace, a portrait of Joseph II showed the distinguished Holy Roman Emperor with one hand on his hip. Two Czech crystal chandeliers added to the noble atmosphere. An aquarium was unique. The big bowl showed off designs of orange fish and flowers.

The oldest book in the library was open on the table – a German Bible from the 16^th century. I admired its bewitching Gothic script. The 3,600 books on the dark wooden shelves were written in German, English and French with a few in Czech, and most hailed from the 18^th and 19^th centuries. The collection included the volumes of the History of the Czech Nation in Bohemia and Moravia by legendary Czech 19^th century historian, František Palacký. Other valuable items were many books by Alexandre Dumas as well as the Encyclopedia Brittanica. Portraits of the Mannsfelds and Colloredos also adorned the room. I recognized one painting as a copy of the original I had seen in the Prado – Diego Velázquez’s “Portrait of the Spanish Infanta Margarita Teresa.” Dolls had been placed throughout the rooms as part of a special exhibition, and in this space there were 50 doll figures from novels. Madame Bovary made a memorable appearance.

The Dining Room boasted of 20^th century Neo-Renaissance traits. The 12 chairs made of leather had armrests sporting the eagle on the coat-of-arms of the Colloredo family. Portraits of the Colloredo-Mannsfelds also decorated the walls. In one portrait Josef Colloredo-Mannsfeld was seated on a red chair, with books on a nearby table, perhaps symbolizing his vast knowledge obtained while he had traveled around the world. The vases from Delft added ambience as did the stucco décor on the ceiling.

After touring the 11 rooms, I paid a visit to the JCM family Gallery. Family portraits and Baroque 17^th and 18^th century works by Italian painters dotted the walls of the small, intimate spaces. I noticed many biblical and mythological scenes as well as historical themes and landscapes. Salvatore Rosa executed “Saint Peter Fishing” in the 17^th century while a portrait of Holy Roman Emperor Leopold II hailed from the end of the 18^th century. Other works addressed topics such as the judgment of Paris and the murder of Saint Wenceslas. Leonardo Bassano’s depiction of the Last Supper from 1605 graced a wall, too.

A temporary exhibition in the gallery featured the work of Belorussian painter Alexandr Iljuščenko. I admired one modern landscape with many greens and browns and his depiction of a tram over a bridge. I could almost hear it clattering over the tracks. An alley flanked by trees during the fall also caught my attention. In another work I saw a green pasture and hills. The people rendered in the paintings appeared too modern for me and took something away from the magical atmosphere of the scenery.

Next I walked into the bewitching French park of nearly two hectares. It was one of my favorites. Founded during the 1770s when the chateau got a Baroque makeover, the French park now boasts of Rococo style. Five terraces, an orangery and a fountain with a Baroque sculptural grouping of horses created by Platzer around 1760 were just a few of the pluses. I also viewed allegorical statues of the seasons. I spotted Poseidon with a crown and Nares with an oar and ocean wreath, too. In the orangery I took note of the four statues of figures from mythology, including Apollo and Aphrodite. The English park was much larger, spanning 30 hectares with a pond and stream. Three artificial caves were located here as well.

I had an appetizing lunch of chicken on a skewer in the quaint and busy chateau restaurant and then made my way to the nearby bus stop for the half hour ride back to Prague.

Tracy A. Burns is a writer, proofreader and editor in Prague.

Return Trip to Dobříš Chateau in 2024

After learning that the chateau had changed its interior, I returned to Dobříš only to be disappointed by the transformation. Formerly richly decorated rooms had become bland spaces with panels narrating the history of the Colloredo-Mansfield clan, who, I recalled, had come into the picture during a 1630 purchase. The information about the family was intriguing as were the objects associated with each member, but these spaces did not compare with the Baroque and Rococo décor of the past. Several rooms were still lavishly adorned – but just a few. The Writers’ Room remained the same, thankfully, showing off objects from the Communist era. The fresco-filled Hall of Mirrors with eight Venetian chandeliers was roped off, so I could only take a few steps into the beautiful space.

Photos from the Writers’ Room, showing portraits and statuettes of Communists and furnishings from the totalitarian era

However, the park was as stunning as ever. The orangery had been reconstructed with illusionary wall painting. The five terraces, the fountain with Baroque statuary and the floral arrangements were just as I remembered them. Walking through the park on a sunny day was a real thrill.

Photos from other spaces in the interior

From the park

The orangery with wall painting

The orangery main gate

Illusionary wall painting on the orangery

More illusionary wall painting on the orangery

Holy Mountain (Svatá Hora) Diary

October 6, 2013 by Tracy's Travels

The bus from Prague to the central Bohemian town of Příbram, 54 kilometers southwest of the capital, took about an hour. When it made a stop on the main square in Dobříš, I remembered visiting that lovely chateau with the quaint restaurant in its courtyard. I got off in Příbram and walked uphill for a while until I reached the Holy Mountain (Svatá Hora) pilgrimage site, a former Baroque monastery complex that included ambulatories, open altars, closed corner chapels and a basilica with three open altars on its loggia. On the bus I read some historical information about the place to which the devout had been flocking for centuries.

According to one legend, the original chapel was constructed courtesy of Knight Malovec in 1261 as his way of showing thanks to the Virgin Mary, who had protected him from robbers at the site. Another legend claims that the first Archbishop Arnošt of Pardubice, had the chapel erected during his tenure in that function from 1344 to 1364. (The first Archbishop also had been an active diplomat during Emperor Charles IV’s reign.) Some speculate that the original chapel may have been built in the 15^th century or at the beginning of the 16^th century.

The statuette of the Holy Virgin, now placed in front of the silver main altar of the basilica, is Bohemian, from the Gothic period, probably created in the 14^th century. Pilgrims had begun traveling from afar to see the Madonna in the first half of the 16^th century. The figurine was hidden in the tunnels of mines and other places during the Hussite wars of the 15^th century and then returned to Holy Mountain, which witnessed dismal days again during the pillaging and destruction of the Thirty Years’ War in the 17^th century. During those battle-ridden times, the statuette had been transported from place to place again. The chapel had even been used as a stable when the Emperor’s troops took over Holy Mountain.

The blind beggar Jan Procházka dreamed of regaining his sight at Holy Mountain in 1632, and his dream came true. The popularity of Holy Mountain soared, major repairs were made and even Emperor Ferdinand II paid homage there on several occasions.

After the Jesuits took control of Holy Mountain in 1647, the Baroque complex was built. Chapels and ambulatories were erected, and the place was decorated with stucco and paintings. In 1732 the statuette was allowed to don a crown made of gold, as one of the Virgin’s titles is Regina Coeli, Queen of Heaven.

In 1773 the Jesuit Order was abolished because European leaders felt threatened it, and Pope Clement XIV succumbed to the secular demands. The Order only carried on in Prussia and Russia. In other countries it was suppressed for 40 years. In 1773 the state took over Holy Mountain. The site became dilapidated. The Redemptorists came into the picture during 1861. Extensive restoration was carried out in the early 20^th century. Pope Saint Pius X raised the status of the church to a basilica in 1905. After Czechoslovakia was created in 1918, Holy Mountain continued to be a favorite pilgrimage site.

But Holy Mountain once again faced difficult times during the Occupation and Communism. Under the Nazi regime the Redemptorists had been allowed to carry out a limited number of activities, but in 1950, during the Communist era, the Redemptorists were expelled from the site. On April 13, 1950 the Communists closed down all the monasteries in the country and transported the monks and friars to internment camps or put them in prison. Still, that did not stop the devout from making the arduous journeys to the complex. Then, in April of 1978, a fire destroyed part of the site. The police claimed some mischievous children had accidently started the blaze. When the complex was returned to the Redemptorists in 1990, extensive reconstruction took place. Now there are six priests who take care of Holy Mountain.

As I approached the Holy Mountain complex of buildings, I noticed how austere the exterior looked. I stopped in front of the main gate, called the Prague Gate, which was created in the early 18^th century in collaboration with the legendary architect Kryštof Dientzenhofer. The statuary adorning the gate was spectacular. Seven statues of prophets from the Old Testament and seven busts of saints decorated the balustrade. I spotted Saint Wenceslas, the Czech patron saint, and Saint George, among others.

The basilica was situated on a terrace in the middle of the courtyard. The terrace was decorated with spectacular statuary. Surrounding the basilica were ambulatories with 16 arcades and four closed, corner chapels. Many open chapels adorned the ambulatories that also featured 21 lunette paintings focusing on the legends and history of Holy Mountain. The 100 paintings on the vaults of the ambulatories portrayed tragedies in which the Holy Virgin of Holy Mountain saved the believers in acts of miracles and grace. One ambulatory featured falling from a tower and falling from a horse, for instance. Other vault decoration portrayed the dangers of the plague, fire and lightning. Catastrophes triggered by water were also represented. The stucco work on the ambulatory chapels was original, though the altar paintings were redone by Jan Umlouf during the late 19^th century.

The first closed chapel that we came to was the Prague Chapel, named after the capital city because the Old Town, the New Town and the Lesser Quarter of Prague had contributed funds to have it built. The coats-of-arms from these towns prominently decorated the chapel that harkened back to the late 17^th century and early 18^th century. The exquisite stucco decoration enthralled me as did the eight paintings of saints on the ceiling, but what really got my attention was the painting decorating the main altar.

It had been created by my favorite Czech Baroque artist, Petr Brandl. I loved the detail of the fluttering angel clad in dynamic drapery in Brandl’s energetic work, “The Annunciation of the Virgin Mary.” The angel’s gaze at the Virgin Mary appeared so protective, yet so fragile. The cupola featured portrayals of eight Czech saints with Saint Wenceslas and Saint Ludmila among them. On one wall I saw a painting of the Saints Cyril and Methodius, Byzantine Greek brothers, who, during the 9^th century, introduced the Slavic language to the area that is now the Czech Republic and other regions. I also admired the stucco decoration with garlands and putti.

I explored the open chapels. The Nativity of the Virgin Mary Chapel hailed from the 17^th century, with a painting on that theme in the center of the altar. Saint Catherine and Saint Wenceslas fIanked the main altar. I liked the appearance of the spiraling columns at the sides of the central panel and the white stucco on the ceiling adorned with exquisite, small paintings.

I also studied a painting of a pilgrimage from Prague to Příbram, a journey which had taken three days during the 17^th century. I recognized Prague Castle and the Charles Bridge in the background. Those were two sights I rarely visited these days but adored despite the never-ending flow of tourists.

The Triumphant Virgin Mary Chapel from 1674 was certainly unique. General and Count Jan (Johann) von Sporck had it decorated with symbols of war, such as weaponry. A general of the Habsburg armies famous for his successes during the Thirty Years’ War of the 17^th century, Sporck had certainly proved himself as a military leader, but he was also known for his avarice and cruelty. Serfs disliked him so much that they were convinced he knew witchcraft and had ties with the Devil. His son Count Frantíšek Antonín von Sporck was well-respected for his patronage of the arts.

On the altar Jan von Sporck emphasized the theme of war to the extreme. The paintings featured battles showing the defeated Turks. The central panel featured a soldier wielding a sword and shield showing the head of a Turk. White with gold stucco decoration included a child fighter armed with a sword in one hand and the head of a Turk in the other. I found the war themes appalling, especially the depiction of the child as a soldier holding a severed head.

Seeing the altar made me think about all the wars in which the United States had been embroiled during recent years. I have always been against the war with Iraq. I remember watching the beginning of the Iraq war unfold on CNN through the early morning hours, my gaze glued to the battles on the screen, horrified by what I saw, yet unable to turn away. It made me feel sick to my stomach. I did not think that the USA should get involved in Syria’s conflict, though the situation was far from simple. I wondered if there would ever be a time again when the USA would not be at war and if I would be alive to see America at peace.

The open chapel showing the engagement of the Virgin Mary to Saint Joseph portrayed the Holy Virgin receiving Saint Joseph’s ring in the central panel. Landscapes adorned with stucco were featured on the walls. Landscape depictions during the Baroque period were rare, the guide told me. We also passed musical instruments made of stucco, the violins and trumpets getting most of my attention. Another painting showed a procession of pilgrims with children approaching Holy Mountain.

The closed Březnice Chapel hailed from 1665. The stucco work was impressive. I gazed at the ceiling paintings, showing the flight into Egypt, the burial of Christ, soldiers guarding Christ’s Tomb and other scenes. I wondered who had painted them – the artist was unknown.

I noticed skulls decorating a column of another open altar. Scenes from Hell and sudden death were depicted on the vaults of the ceiling and walls. Another chapel featured the death of the Virgin Mary surrounded by paintings of the 12 apostles on the wall and ceiling.

Then we came to a closed, corner chapel named after the west Bohemian town of Pilsen. The main altar featured a painting of the patron saint of Pilsen, Saint Bartholomew, holding a book. The Virgin Mary of Pilsen and Saint Michael also made appearances. I noticed that Saint Nicholas was clad in elegant, golden robes. Angels accompanied the saints, playing various instruments. I also noticed the exquisite carvings on the benches.

Next we went outside the ambulatories and down to the Chapel of Mary Magdalene, which looked like a cave thanks to artificial stalactites, created in 1665. A statue of Saint Mary Magdalene, who, according to a medieval legend, had lived in a cave for 30 years after Christ’s resurrection, made up the main altar while scenes from her life were painted on the cupola. Figures of other saints surrounded her. The effect of the cave-like room was eerie and creepy, but stunning all the same. I had never seen anything like it except for a church in a cave in Palermo, Sicily. Outside the guide pointed out one of the 12 crosses on the Stations of the Cross that the devout could follow, saying prayers at each station, symbolically following in the footsteps of Christ to the Cross.

Don’t let me forget the closed chapel called Mníšek. It dated from the late 17^th century and early 18^th century. Its altar painting showed Saint John of Nepomuk kneeling before the Virgin Mary and hailed from 1871. Statues on the balustrades of the chapel featured saints and angels.

We continued to the basilica in the middle of the courtyard. I admired its balustrade with impressive statues of Bohemian patron saints and angels. There were three open chapels in the loggia. I liked the Coronation Chapel the best. It hailed from 1667 with stucco adornment, paintings and a marble altar. Twelve paintings representing the 12 sections of the prayer “Ave Maria” caught my attention. Czech saints, apostles, prophets from the Old Testament and archangels were gathered on the ceiling vault. On one side a painting showed the 1732 coronation ceremony of the statuette of the Holy Virgin of Holy Mountain. I wondered what it would have felt like to be at such a formal, lavish celebration during the 18^th century. It must have been enthralling to see the figurine decked in golden armor. The ceremony still takes place once a year.

Impressive painting and stucco decorated the Chapel of Saint Joachim and Saint Ann. Paintings showed scenes from the life of the Holy Virgin’s parents. The Chapel of Saint Joseph, which hailed from 1667, featured the altar painting “The Death of Saint Joseph” from 1873.

The interior was amazing. The Chapel of Saint Ignatius featured 10 paintings of scenes from the life of Saint Ignatius of Loyola. I noticed a coat-of-arms with a star and eagle and knew it stood for the Šternberk clan, who owned Šternberk Castle not far from Prague. That family had helped finance the building of this altar. Another chapel called the Assumption of the Virgin or the Chapel of Saint Wenceslas featured exquisite stucco adornment and ceiling paintings from the life of Saint Wenceslas. Silver statues of saints also decorated the space. The Chapel of Saint Elizabeth had exquisite stucco decoration, and the ceiling painting featured Saint John the Baptist with his parents.

The main altar was the big treat, though. Divided into tiers, it glittered silver. The statuette of the Holy Virgin looked so delicate inside the silver box. Silver figures of kneeling angels and Baroque reliefs added to the decoration. The antependium on the front of the altar could be traced back to 1686, and the tabernacle was constructed two years later.

I went to check out the other entrance, the south Březnice Gate. Above the portal was a stone replica of the Holy Virgin of Holy Mountain. Six stone busts from 1707 included Mary Magdalene. The sculptural adornment was undoubtedly impressive.

I said goodbye to the guide and descended the hidden staircase of more than 300 stairs that connected the complex with downtown Příbram. The Jesuits built it from 1727 to 1728 to protect pilgrims from bad weather. It was very austere, without decoration. After exiting the tunnel-like staircase, I walked down some picturesque, narrow streets with ceramic shops and small cafes. Then I came to the main square, where I found a restaurant that served my beloved chicken. After lunch I walked to the bus stop, and transportation to Prague came within five minutes.

Tracy A. Burns is a writer, proofreader and editor in Prague.

Manětín Chateau Diary

September 19, 2013 by Tracy's Travels

I had wanted to visit the Baroque chateau Manětín, about 45 minutes from Plzeň by car in Western Bohemia, for many years, but for some reason I had been under the impression that it was closed to the public. Only while I was at Chyše Chateau did I find out that Manětín had been open to the public since 1997. Today I would finally see it with my own eyes. I was very excited about the trip. I had to go by car as there was no public transportation that went to Manětín. We drove through the bewitching countryside and passed many haystack-dotted fields.

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When I arrived at Manětín, I was bewitched by the Baroque statues and a sculptural grouping of the Holy Trinity in front of the main square. A road led down to the Baroque chateau itself, situated behind the statues. At the small white church next to the chateau a group of six or seven musicians were playing funereal music on trumpets. People dressed in black walked solemnly into the church.

It was almost 10 am, and my tour began at the top of the hour. I had a few minutes to pop into the park. The Baroque and English park looked elegant and well-kept, very different than it must have looked between 1945 and the 1990s, when it was in a decrepit state. It had been restored in the 1990s to appear like it had during 1790.

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Then it was time for the tour. The knowledgeable young man acquainted me with the history of the chateau that had been first mentioned in 1169. The chateau that had begun as a medieval fortress had been transformed into Renaissance style before 1600. After a devastating fire in 1712, it was reconstructed with a Baroque appearance thanks to the then owner, Marie Gabriela Lažanská.

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The chateau had been confiscated several times. Volf Krajíř z Krajku owned the place from 1544 to 1547, when it was confiscated because he had rebelled against Holy Roman Emperor Ferdinand I. Following The Battle of White Mountain in 1620, which pitted the Protestant nobles against the Emperor and Catholic Habsburgs, the defeated nobles lost their property. The chateau was confiscated for the second time in 1622.

That was when Ester Mitrovská from Nemyšle, born Lažanská from Bukova, bought the chateau. When she died, the chateau came into the hands of her brother, Ferdinand Rudolf Lažanský. The Lažanský family would keep the chateau for more than 300 years. Times of cultural prosperity followed, especially when Václav Josef Lažanský and Marie Gabriela Lažanská manned the chateau.

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After World War II, though, the chateau was confiscated for the third time, becoming the property of the state because two Lažanská women in charge of the chateau had married two Austrian brothers. Thus, the chateau had been in part the property of the Austrian family. Due to the Beneš decrees that took away property from Germans and even expelled them from the country, Terezie Lažanská, one of the women who had married an Austrian, was deported to Austria. Some rooms were open to the public as early as 1959, and the chateau became a national monument in 2002.

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Upon entering the hallway, I was enthralled by the sculptures dotting the staircase as well as the ceiling fresco. The four statues with putti on the staircase represented the four elements. One cherub was holding a fish, representing water. Another was depicted with a cannonball and decked in an old-fashioned fireman’s helmet that looked more like military headgear. This was Fire. Earth was portrayed by a cherub with a melon and snake, and Air was depicted by a putti flying on a bird. I could almost imagine the cherub whizzing through the cold, damp chateau air on the big bird.

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A portrayal of what the chateau was supposed to look like in the 18^th century took centerstage in the ceiling fresco. Allegories of architecture and painting also adorned the fresco as did the coat-of-arms of Marie Gabriela Lažanská, perhaps the most influential of the Lažanský owners. (The guide mentioned that Marie Gabriela had been addicted to card playing. In fact, more than once she had put the chateau at stake when she had made her bet.)

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In the Reception Room there were four paintings depicting soldiers during the Thirty Years’ War, which lasted from 1618 to 1648 and started due to religious disputes. One held a spear, another a sword. The oldest piece of furniture in the chateau stood in this room as well; it was a 1640 bureau, dating from the Thirty Years’ War as well. I paid particular attention to the elegant, brown fireplace and gold with black clock and vases, all in lavish Rococo style. I liked the gold with black décor.

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The portrait of the young woman depicted in black was Terezie, who was killed in a hunting accident when she was 21 years old. (Note that this is a different Terezie than the one who was deported to Austria.) But perhaps it hadn’t been an accident at all, the guide conceded. Some say she was killed on purpose so she could not get married. Supposedly, her lover hated the man to whom she was engaged.

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In a corner of the next room, a window was painted onto the wall. The guide explained that there had been originally a window there, but it had been filled when new rooms had been added in the 19^th century. An 18^th century chaise lounge, a Venetian mirror made in Morano and a group of white, Viennese porcelain also adorned the room. On the ceiling there was a small fresco of part of a boat, dating from the first part of the 18^th century; most of the fresco had been destroyed, though. I tried to imagine what it would have looked like if the entire fresco had been visible. A port with boats and nobility strolling along an embankment on a crisp afternoon? I wondered.

I loved the way the porcelain cups were displayed on small black shelves set at different levels on the wall. In a round portrait Marie Gabriela, clad in a silver dress, appeared strong-willed and somber with a no-nonsense expression. A light wood, Baroque desk hailed from the 18^th century while the tapestry covering one wall showed a scene from the Old Testament with Moses. The two dressers, both green with floral patterns, were intriguing, for their irregular, curving shapes and color. A view of Venice was painted on each one. I recognized the Doges Palace on one and thought back to the thrilling time I toured the palace during my first day in that magical city.

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The next hallway was decorated with green pictures of castles, chateaus and various places – the pictures had been cut out of magazines. I recognized the chateau of Blatná, as two people rowed a small boat around it. Another scene showed woods in Karlovy Vary. Still others showed the castles Orlík, Točník and Žebrák. Then we came to a room with a hunting theme. Nineteenth century guns, petrified hawks and a woodpecker made up the décor. The Baroque desk, closet and dresser looked out of place.

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In the room where the nobility had gathered, the paintings on the wall showed boats at sea and hailed from 18^th century Holland. A black Baroque table and bureau from the same era also adorned the room. The glass chandelier caught my attention. It was exquisite. Made in Venice’s Morano, the chandelier was decorated with glass flower buds that looked almost as if they were icicles taking on decorative shapes. There was also an Italian mirror with a simple, gold frame.

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Decorating another hallway were more green pictures of castles, chateaus and places. I saw Plzeň, a major city now, as a 19^th century village and Roundice nad Labem before its chateau had become dilapidated. A room with a horses’ theme was decked with small paintings of horses, a clock with four, white columns, a desk with cards and a German newspaper dated 1859.

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Then we came to a room with unique paintings on the walls. They did not depict the nobility, but instead the servants and clerks who had worked at the chateau. A rarity in chateaus, this collection included 13 portraits from 1716 to 1717 hanging in several rooms and in a hallway. They were painted by Václav Dvořák, whose life remains mostly a mystery. All the people portrayed in this room were dressed in black. Two carriage drivers next to a carriage wore tall, fluffy hats with big feathers. In one portrait a solemn-looking priest stared back at me. He had written a chronicle of Manětín in three languages, the guide said.

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Objects in the next room proved to be rarities as well. The space boasted a complete collection of porcelain, plates with tea and coffee service sporting white with brown decoration. It was not often that a chateau had a complete collection; usually there were only pieces of a collection featured. In the former Billiards’ Room, there was no table, but there were more paintings of servants and clerks. Three men donning large, white wigs gazed at me. There were also portraits of a doctor, the chateau’s caretaker and the priest who was also a historian. An elderly woman held keys in one hand; she was responsible for the keys to the chateau and to the food storage rooms. The yellow tile stove with squiggly brown vertical lines appealed to me. A small device that functioned as a bell was there, too.

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The biggest room was now used for weddings and concerts. The 1730 ceiling fresco boasted its original, vibrant colors and portrayed three figures showing God’s qualities in the center. I spotted the one in red with the heart as Love. The female clad in blue represented Strength. The third portrayed a girl pouring water from a jug onto a coat-of-arms. This was symbolic of Luck or Fortune. In the corners of the ceiling, the painted figures represented the four seasons. Fall showed a naked girl with grapes and Bacchus, the god of wine. Summer was represented by a girl donning a big, straw hat and weilding a sickle as well as a woman holding a parasol. Spring: One girl was pouring water while another was holding a parrot.

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Winter had two symbols. One was Death as an angel, but there was also a woman in a black mask to depict winter as a time of social gatherings and parties. When I went back to the chateau in 2020, the black mask triggered thoughts of the coronavirus pandemic as cases were increasing in the Czech Republic. In America, where my octogenarian parents lived, the situation was horrendous with over 1,000 dying every day. In the Czech Republic we didn’t have to wear masks anymore, though I still did because I wanted to be as careful as possible. I had spent the first three weeks of lockdown in my apartment, afraid to go out, before I started taking walks and calming down. Thoughts of the coronavirus and my parents’ and friends’ health often kept me up at night.

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Mythological events were also portrayed on the ceiling. I spotted Poseidon and a falling Icarus. There were two portraits of the Lažanský family in this room as well. One showed Marie Gabriela and her daughter along with a black servant. In the portrait of her husband with their sons, the painter put himself in the work, holding a palette and brushes.

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Painted Baroque statues flanked the doorway that led to the magnificent library, which held 5,000 books, many with golden spines. Most were in German and dealt with economy, but books by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe and Johann Christoph Friedrich von Schiller also graced the shelves. There were also books in English, Italian and French, for example. Only two books in Czech were in the collection, and both described how to make beer. Topics of other books included fishing, fruit growing, history and theatre. There was even a Turkish textbook. Above me was a fresco of Zeus and his daughter Pallas Athena, the goddess of war. The ceiling had been reconstructed in the 20^th century due to a fire that had erupted because a tile stove had not been closed properly.

I found the remaining two portraits of servants in the hallway. One showed a cook and woman washing dishes in the chateau kitchen. Another showed a woman pouring water into a basin. Since there was no hot or cold water back then, the water had to be boiled in the kitchen, the guide explained. The woman pouring the water was decked in a traditional folk costume.

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We saw the chapel from the oratory behind glass. The main altar painting was by Baroque master Petr Brandl, my favorite Baroque artist. He also created two paintings on side altars. Brandl actually came to the chateau to paint the works during 1716.

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After the intriguing tour I went outside to take photos of some of the 30 Baroque statues that sprinkled the town and hailed from 1680 to 1780. I still could not enter the Baroque church next door. A simple, wooden coffin was placed in a black van, followed by a procession of people dressed in black, along with two decked in purple and white robes. I did not see the Church of Saint Barbara, either, though I later read it was Baroque in style and featured eight wooden statues of saints.

The St. John the Baptist statue, now situated at a church, had suffered much turmoil. It originally stood in front of an administrative building. Then it was placed on a small bridge. In 1944 it was severely damaged by the Nazis. Then children did more damage to the statue. After the Russians came in 1945, it was tied to a telephone pole. In 1954 it was moved to its current location.

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I went to the chateau restaurant and had my favorite excursion lunch of chicken with peaches and Cola light. Then I got back in the taxi and headed for the smallest town in Europe called Rabštejn nad Střelou, situated only nine kilometers away.

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Tracy A. Burns is a writer, editor and proofreader in Prague.

Rájec nad svitavou Diary

September 18, 2013 by Tracy's Travels

The train trip from Brno to Rájec nad svitavou took about an hour. I chatted with four young women from Vancouver during the short ride. They got off at Blansko, heading toward the Punkva caves in the Moravian Karst region. I recalled waiting for that same bus during my exciting journey to the most beautiful caves in the region. Other astounding caves were accessible by bus from Blansko, too. By now I had seen all 14 Czech caves accessible to the public. Today I was enthusiastic about visiting Rájec again. Ten years ago I had been bewitched by the chateau’s interior. I expected to be enamored again.

I found my way from the train station in Jestřebí to the chateau in Rájec without getting lost, for a change. One glance at the rectangular courtyard decorated with blossoming orange flowers, and I recalled my thrilling visit all those years ago. I saw flashbacks of the big library, Hall of Ancestors and the Big Dining Room. Then I gazed straight ahead at the three-winged, elegant building, its entranceway sporting a balcony passage. The chateau was crowned by a high mansard roof. A dormer window and a clock tour made up other significant architectural features. To my left was the chateau’s chapel.

I was psyched by the time I entered the box office. I introduced myself and told the dark-haired, frowning woman manning the computer that I was a journalist writing about the chateau, that I had set up a 90-minute tour by email and that I had sent a confirmation a few days earlier.

Her belligerent response caught me totally off-guard. “I don’t care if you are a journalist. You have to wait until there are 10 people interested in a tour before you can see our chateau,” she screamed at me. There were circles under her eyes. I wondered if she had gotten enough sleep the previous night. This woman clearly had anger issues she was not dealing with. An older, smiling woman stood next to her, and a teenage boy in a scruffy T-shirt and jeans organized some pamphlets behind the belligerent brunette, ignoring her outburst as if it was nothing new to him.

“But I reserved a tour. I contacted you a month ago and sent you a confirmation on Saturday. I will be happy to wait up to an hour, but it is customary for journalists to get private tours if there is no one else interested in a tour at that time.” I spoke calmly, careful not to make the woman angrier.

“I never got any email from you.” Her tone was aggressive, vehement even, as her eyes bore into me. The boy kept his back to her, and the round-faced woman with short, grey hair kept smiling.

“If you did not get it, why did you answer it?”

“I did not get any email from you. I certainly did not get any confirmation,” She said, skirting the question.

“I sent you the confirmation on Saturday. It is Wednesday. Surely, you have received the email by now.”

“I will go look at our computer and call the caretaker, even though she is on vacation. Give me your email address.” I wrote it down for her, and she left the building. I gathered it was not possible to look it up on the computer in the box office.

Her calm, forever smiling colleague said that of course everything would be all right, and I would get a private tour if no one else was interested in seeing the chateau now. I found the email confirmation on my mobile phone and showed it to her. The teenager, who I assumed was a summer tour guide, answered the phone next to the cash register and announced, “She already found your email. Everything is okay.”

If everything was okay, why did it take the woman another 10 minutes to return?

Finally, she stood behind the computer, which once again became the imposing physical barrier between us. The smiling woman left the room as the chateau leader in her forties announced, “I did not get any email from you. I called the caretaker, and she knows nothing about you.” I showed her the email confirmation that her colleague had seen. I noticed that her hair looked unwashed and uncombed. The young man was placing brochures in a drawer.

“I never got any email from you.”

“Then why did you answer the email I sent you a month ago and write me that you were looking forward to my visit?” I persisted.

“I do not even know what publication you are writing for.”

“You just read the name and link two seconds ago.”

The calm woman had returned and dared to speak up, stating that the guide should give me a tour, but the belligerent woman interrupted her, yelling, “We have decided you can spend 60 minutes in our chateau, but no more. You cannot spend all day with our tour guide.”

“I requested the 90-minute tour, and I do not want to spend all day with your tour guide. I just want the 90-minute tour.”

“Sixty minutes. That’s all.” She said, her gaze threatening me to challenge her.

I set off with the young man, disappointed that I would only get a 60-minute tour. We were both silent until he opened the main entrance. “What do you want to take pictures of?”

“I never said I wanted to take any pictures. I said I wanted the 90-minute tour.”

“Oh, then that’s different. I have to go back and ask them if that is possible.”

About to give up and return to Brno, I waited another five minutes for the scruffy teenager. “If you want the 90-minute tour, you need to wait 10 more minutes.”

Why not? I had already waited 30 minutes. What did 10 more minutes matter? I felt as if I was a character in an absurd play.

At the designated time, a small group gathered around the entrance, and the guide introduced himself. There were seven people in our group. The woman had told me that there had to be at least 10 visitors for a tour to take place.

I knew I should be angry. No one had spoken to me so rudely for a long time. No administrator of any monument I had visited during my 21 years here had treated me so badly. I inferred that the people running Rájec did not make an effort to encourage tourists to visit their chateau and did not care what impression they made on journalists. The entire experience was so Kafkaesque, so typical for this country.

I recalled other Kafkaesque experiences, such as when I had to go to customs in Prague to pay tax on a package my mother had sent me. She had written that the cat litter box liners cost 11 USD, and the customs officer was convinced it read 1,100.00 USD. While I was able to persuade her it was not that expensive, she still made me pay tax. Each time it became my turn at the five customs counters, the officers on duty went on coffee breaks.

I tried to concentrate on the tour. First, the guide gave some insight into the history of the chateau. The community of Rájec was established during or before the 12^th century while a stronghold was situated at the settlement probably from the 13^th century, though it had not been on the site of the current chateau. The seat of the Lords of Rájec was destroyed twice – during the 14^th century and again during the Hussite wars of the 15^th century.

The most significant clan to own the chateau was the Salm-Reifferscheidts, who obtained it in 1763. They would remain the owners until 1945. This chateau was built in 1769. The member of the family who would most influence the chateau was Count Hugo František Salm-Reifferscheidt, who became the owner in 1811 and was responsible for furnishing the interior. He expanded the library and the chateau gallery. However, dark days came to Rájec when the Nazis took control of the chateau during World War II – the reason why the state confiscated the building in 1945 under the so-called Beneš’ decrees. Now the chateau mostly flaunts the style of 19^th century Romanticism.

The tour began. The Neo-Renaissance Dining Room featured a carved cassette ceiling supported by two Corinthian columns. I marveled at the colorful handsewn tablecloth sporting 126 coats-of-arms. The colorfully upholstered chairs also lent a certain charm and energy to the room. A closet from 1667 featured rich woodcarving.

After passing by impressive Oriental vases – there were a lot of them at this chateau -, we came to the Corner Room, which displayed the prince’s crown trimmed in white fur above a blood red color. It was given to the Salms on the coronation day of Holy Roman Emperor Leopold II during October of 1790. The guide showed us the bronze door knocker featuring the god Neptune. This was the only furnishing in the chateau that hailed from its Renaissance days.

The Engravings Cabinet enthralled me. The wooden wall panels were decorated with engravings inspired by works of prominent artists, such as Peter Paul Rubens. Each wall showed off engravings with a different theme. I was especially drawn to the works dealing with life in the Vatican, though the ones focusing on French rulers also grabbed my attention. I was especially impressed with the 18^th century Holland Baroque furniture with floral and plant motifs. I recalled admiring this style in the Český Šternberk Castle not far from Prague.

The stunning Hall of Ancestors contained 40 portraits of former owners and their families. I knew that each portrait told the story of a life, of dreams that did or did not come true, of love, of troubles and of pain. As I gazed around me at the portraits, I wondered what each person’s story was. I also noted the blue and white Meissen porcelain decorating the room. A jewel chest and two tables glittered gold.

The octagonal Ceremonial Hall featured Classicist illusive wall painting that covered the 18^th century Rococo frescoes with mythological themes. I wondered what exactly the frescoes had looked like. A chandelier gave the illusion that it was gold.

The Rájec library, covering three rooms, contained 60,000 volumes, making it the largest chateau library in Moravia. Its possessions included medieval manuscripts pertaining to black magic. It dated back to the 1770s and was adorned in Empire style. What really caught my attention were the three standing skeletons in the second room. Two skeletons had one arm on each of their skulls. I wondered if they were scratching their skulls because they were puzzled by the box office brunette’s behavior. The other skeleton was headless.

Next we ascended to the first floor. The blue and white Meissen porcelain in the Dining Room was exquisite, and in the Big Hall I admired the detailed woodcarving on the gramophone from World War I. In a bedroom there were two intriguing maps – one showed Central Europe in the 1830s while the other was an administrative map of the Czech lands, delineating the different districts, from 1720. I was disappointed we did not get more time to peruse the maps.

In the study three African shields entranced me. On a desk from the 1830s there was a model of a hand that could be used as a paperweight. The Oriental Antechamber included a 17^th century jewel chest with Chinese landscapes painted in detail on the drawers. In another bedroom I saw a tapestry decorated with 120 coats-of-arms and some seascapes with raging waves.

Last we visited the chapel, in another building. The Empire style painting of the Virgin Mary was the only intriguing piece inside. Otherwise, it was barren and depressing.

I took a short stroll through the English park, established in 1767, with ponds and a waterfall. I was still puzzled by the anger the woman had unleashed at me as I walked on a narrow path, thick with trees. I pondered on how all my life I had always taken the path less traveled by, the path to adventure, the path that would lead me to get to know myself better as a person. Growing up I had played baseball and ice hockey with boys, for instance.

At a university in America shortly after the Velvet Revolution, I had become enamored by Czechoslovak theatre and the life and works of playwright-turned-president Václav Havel. After graduation I moved to Czechoslovakia, with a modest job teaching English, not knowing the language and not knowing anyone in the country. So much had changed since then. I was not even the same person anymore.

Then I wondered if my memory of this chateau would forever be associated with the rude remarks of that nasty woman at the box office and the Kafkaesque absurdity associated with it. Most probably it would, unfortunately. I remembered reading one travel blogger’s post about how unfriendly and cold Czechs had been to her in Prague. She ended the article by stating she would never return to the Czech Republic. I hoped that someday I would return here, have a positive experience and be full of the enthusiasm I had felt when I first visited this chateau some years ago.

I noticed dark clouds hovering in the sky and glanced at my watch. It was time to head back to the train station.

Tracy A. Burns is a writer, editor and proofreader in Prague.

Lysice Chateau Diary

September 4, 2013 by Tracy's Travels

When I first set my eyes on Lysice’s chateau and garden 10 years ago, I knew that someday I would be back. The two exceptional tours and extensive park enhanced by colonnades had captivated me. I was certain that this chateau was one of the most underrated sights in the Czech Republic.

It had been a short bus ride from Brno, and the bus stop was near the chateau. As usual, I had written to administrators at the chateau, informing them that I would be arriving at 9 am on this Wednesday to take the tours and write about them. The woman at the box office greeted me warmly, and soon I was starting the first tour, guided by an enthusiastic, young man with a contagious smile.

The guide filled me in on the history of the chateau and its owners. Its history may go back as far as the 13^th century, and there was a fortress at Lysice in the 15^th century. It became an early Renaissance water fortress in the 16^th century. At the end of that century, the country house there had been transformed into a castle with arcades in the courtyard and a terraced park. Baroque changes had occurred in the 18^th century. At this time a grotto had been created in the park along with allegorical figures representing the months of the year.

When Antonia Piattis married into the Dubský family, the Dubský dynasty at Lysice had begun. They owned the chateau from 1807 to 1945, when it was taken away due to the so-called Beneš decrees because the family had had Austrian citizenship during World War II. Count Emanuel Dubský was a significant member of the clan and made a name for himself in industry. His wife Matylda of Žerotín established the first children’s hospital in Moravia. It still exists today. Tragedy marked their lives as three of their sons were killed in military action, and another was murdered. Yet another died at the age of 45. Only Ervin, the second eldest, remained. He had distinguished himself as a Vice Admiral of the Austrian Navy. Ervin had also traveled all over the world. Many exhibits at the chateau came from his travels.

The interior of the chateau underwent much reconstruction in the 19^th century under Emanuel’s guidance. In the 1830s the elegant colonnade was built in the park. Disaster struck at the beginning of the 20^th century when, in 1902, the chateau theatre burned down. It was never rebuilt. After the chateau was confiscated by the state in 1945, much reconstruction took place. It became a national monument in 2001.

Now it was time for the tour to begin. First, we came to the Baroness Marie von Ebner-Eschenbach’s library, named after the prominent Austrian author who was related to the Dubský clan. She had been known for her psychological novels and was considered one of the most significant German-language writers of the late 19^th century. The space established during the 1860s now housed many manuscripts of plays that had been performed at the chateau’s former theatre. There were impressive busts of artists on one wall. Those representing William Shakespeare, Alighieri Dante and Friedrich Schiller caught my attention immediately. The richly carved wood paneling of the veined bookshelves hid the 7,000 volumes in this Pseudo-Renaissance style room. I looked up at the ceiling, dizzy with delight. The carved cassette type ceiling was stunning, inlaid with silver and gold.

The Grand Dining Room flaunted Second Rococo style, and I was drawn to the wooden, gilt chandelier that could hold 30 candles. The guide instructed me to look down, too. The parquet floor was deeply inlaid with the intarsia woodworking technique that involved fitting together wood pieces to give a mosaic appearance and an illusion of depth. The Small Dining Room was Classicist in style with two exquisite, white marble tables. Bohemian glassware and plates made of aragonite from Karlovy Vary (Karlsbad) and Belgian marble stood out in the room. The Meissen candlestick that could hold four candles was an exquisite pink and white color combination.

The Grand Representative Parlor featured illusive stucco painting on the ceiling. Japanese and Chinese colorful vases in the space were souvenirs from Ervin Dubský’s travels. The Neo-Gothic chapel hailed from the 1870s, but the Baroque altar featuring the Virgin Mary and Jesus was from the beginning of the 17^th century. A richly carved rendition of the Holy Trinity caught my attention. The portable Baroque organ weighed 100 kilograms.

The highlight of the Ladies’ Parlor for me was the large Meissen porcelain clock, featuring flowers that represented nature and dating from the second half of the 19^th century. It represented human life and the transience of time. Gazing at the clock reminded me of how I had changed as a person since I had moved to Prague in 1991, when I had been much more extroverted and had taken more chances. Sometimes I wanted to go back to that time, when everything in what was then Czechoslovakia was new and fresh. Other times I was glad I was wiser and no longer naive.

I was also I was captivated by the copy of the Black Madonna of Saint Tome above the Baroque bed. Ervin Dubský had installed a ship telephone that one blew into. The Girls’ Room was dominated by stunning lithographic prints of Vienna and its surroundings. It soothed me to see pictures of Vienna. I felt comfortable there and always enjoyed my visits to the Austrian capital that reminded me a bit of Prague. I was intrigued by a doll of a nun on a shelf. I had read that dolls dressed as nuns were often devotional and given to young girls to try to convince them to take the veil when they grew up.

The highlight of the first tour was the Oriental Salon with its treasures from Turkey, Japan and China and other places. Four small Turkish tables were inlaid with pearls. I also saw Islamic prayer rugs plus Chinese and Japanese vases. Part of the display emphasized Japan. Imari porcelain was bright blue and orange, a pleasing color combination, I mused. A partition decorated with motifs of flowers and plants was made of silk on silk.

The Samurai armor intrigued me. I knew that armor plates were attached to cloth or leather and that it was considered to be lightweight. It looked like the armor had hand-woven, colorful cloth padding protecting its front and sides. The bright colors made it vibrant. A Chinese chandelier was exquisite, showing off painted scenes of everyday life in a home. What really grabbed my attention were the four black-and-white paintings by an unknown Chinese artist. The figures had such grotesque features and reminded me of commedia dell’arte characters.

We stepped onto the first floor outer hallway, from which I had a stunning view of the courtyard with its arcades below. I noticed the coats-of-arms decorating the walls facing the courtyard. We walked by frescoes celebrating hunting themes. Next on the itinerary was the armory, featuring a collection of weapons dating from the late Gothic era to World War I. One sword was made of sawfish bone. It was interesting that the execution swords had blunt points. There were also swords that had been used by the Swedish Guard in the Vatican. The oldest sword in the collection hailed from the 14^th century and had been found near Lysice.

The Ervin Dubský Secession style library, the biggest space in the chateau, was impressive. Even though it was larger than the other library, it contained fewer books with 5,000 volumes, mostly concerned with military and nautical themes. I hovered over the miniature portraits in frames. Sailors had taken them on their journeys to remind them of the loved ones they had left behind. I was sure that behind each portrait there was an exciting story, perhaps for a short story or even a novel. Inspired by his navy days, Dubský had the cassette style ceiling built to look like a ceiling on a boat. Ervin had been not only a traveler but a painter as well. In the room Dubský had depicted himself on canvas as a wise man from the Renaissance period.

The second tour, covering the second floor, was next. The Hall Staircase had once been the theatre, the former home of the largest costume collection in Central Europe. I wondered what that theatre had looked like before it had burned down. On one wall I spotted an Oriental raincoat made of bamboo, something I had never seen before.

Then we entered the private apartments. I noted the low ceiling, which gave the spaces a more intimate feel. The Biedermeier furniture, which was the rage from 1815 to 1848, was exquisite. The style emphasized simplicity and elegance with minimal decoration. In the Count’s Parlor I was intrigued by a quill shaped as a green and white snail. The 19^th century games in a display case included a wooden card shuffler. There was also a drawing of Pernštejn Castle, one of my all-time favorites, which I had visited last year.

I was drawn to the painting of Saint Peter’s Square at the Vatican in the Gentlemen’s Social Parlor. Women had been banned from this room. I recalled spending my fortieth birthday touring the Vatican and Saint Peter’s. I remembered walking to Saint Peter’s on that wintry morning around 7:30 am, watching the sun come up. The sunrise had looked so romantic, yet I had been alone.

The Small Shooting Gallery contained 13 hand-painted shooting targets, the oldest ones hailing from the 18^th century. One target had a butterfly in the middle, others were decorated with crowns and still others showed off landscape scenes. The Reception Room was another space featuring Biedermeier decor. I loved the paintings showing Habsburg Emperor Franz Joseph I and his wife, fondly called Sisi, at the celebration of their Golden Wedding anniversary.

In the next room the guide drew my attention to a June 1906 issue of Simplicissimus magazine and showed me an advertisement for an operation to make ears smaller. I was surprised that such surgery had existed so early in the 20^th century. The Tapestry Salon featured tan furniture with a pink and green floral motif. The room got its name from the tapestries used to upholster the furnishings that had even been used in the shooting of Miloš Forman’s legendary film, Amadeus. The furnishing had been transported to Barrandov studios in Prague for the filming.

The last room was the Big Shooting Gallery, where there were 40 targets along with figures. Most of the inscriptions were German or Latin rhymes or proverbs. Only one target had Czech writing on it. I noticed that on a figural target of a scantily dressed woman there was a bullet hole through her left nipple.

I had been totally enthralled during these tours. The guide said that many foreigners have visited the chateau, but very few of them were Americans. I thought it was such a shame that Americans did not take the time to come to such an amazing chateau. I would recommend that Americans stay a week or five days in Brno and take day trips to various castles, chateaus and caves. I was also glad that my tour guide had been so enthusiastic, interesting, energetic and proud of the chateau.

Then it was time to see the terraced park that I had fallen in love with during my last visit. It had been drizzling earlier, but it was no longer raining. Since there were no guided tours at this time, I walked around by myself, dazzled by the flowers, colonnades and bridge that offered excellent views of the park and gardens. On the lower terrace I saw a romantic so-called kitchen garden, based on geometric patterns and hailing from the 19^th century. I loved the sunflowers and pink roses, though in late August some were wilting. A pond was decorated with allegorical sculptures of America, Asia and Europe.

In the middle terrace I was bewitched by the colonnade, raised flower beds and terracotta vases that dotted the terrain. I took note of the paint-chipped columns making up the colonnade. If I were a millionaire, I would donate money to restoring castles and chateaus in the Czech Republic.

The romantic upper terrace hailed from the 19^th century. Decorating a wall niche was a Madonna statue. I also discovered a grotto that hailed from the 18^th century. I spotted sculptures representing the months of a year. I did not go into the castle hothouses and orangery this time, but I remembered how stunning they had been. This park was tied with the castle parks in Kroměříž and Opočno as my favorite, I decided.

I left the chateau hesitantly. I wished I had more time to spend in the park, but the bus back to Brno was to leave soon. I knew that someday I would be back again.

Tracy A. Burns is a writer, proofreader and editor in Prague.

Buchlovice Chateau Diary

August 26, 2013 by Tracy's Travels

The bus from Brno to Buchlovice left me off on the highway. For a moment I panicked. Where was the underpass? I found it quickly, though, and soon came upon the magical chateau that immediately captured my heart. I loved chateaus most of all. Massive, Gothic castles were impressive but also cold and intimidating while chateaus had an intimate quality and a fragility that spoke to me.

Buchlovice Chateau was composed of separate lower and upper sections shaped as semicircles. The chateau flaunted the Baroque style, resembling an Italian villa from that period. Crowned by a cupola, the lower part incorporated the main building with representative rooms. The upper building hosted temporary exhibitions and was home to offices. I also was eager to explore the beauty of the garden with its stunning statues and flower species I had read about.

After I bought my ticket, I took a few snapshots of the lower chateau and the fountain with an obelisk in the middle, situated in the courtyard. Then I joined the group of about 15 people on this sunny day in early July.

Buchlovice was built in the first half of the 18^th century by Jan Dětřich of Petřvald for his wife Anežka Eleanora of Colonna-Fels. The Petřvalds owned nearby Buchlov Castle, too. Even in those days the lower chateau had been the most important structure, and back then the upper chateau had served as a farmstead.

After the Petřvalds, the Bertcholds gained the property, along with Buchlov Castle. The chateau was renovated in the 1920s. The Bertcholds held on to it until 1945, when the estate was nationalized under the so-called Beneš decrees that made it state property. The decrees stated that Germans, Nazi collaborators, traitors and others living in Czechoslovakia had to relinquish their Czechoslovak citizenship and property without compensation. The guide did not specify the reason why the Berchtolds had to give up Buchlovice, but I assumed it was because they had had German citizenship.

Buchlovice was the seat of a significant meeting in European history at the beginning of the 20^th century when the Czech lands belonged to the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Alois Lexa of Aehrenthal, the Austrian-Hungarian Minister of Foreign Affairs, met with Alexander Petrovich Izvolskii, the Minister of Foreign Affairs for Russia. Leopold II Berchtold, as Austrian-Hungarian envoy in St. Petersburg, persuaded them to hold the talk there.

The two discussed the political turmoil in the Balkans, especially the push for independence of non-Turkish nationalities under Turkish rule. Neither politician wanted war. The Austro-Hungarian Empire aimed to annex Bosnia and Herzegovina while the Russians wanted their ships to be able to travel freely through the Dardanelles. However, Aehrenthal did not confer with the Council of the Empire in Vienna on the annexation issue of Bosnia and Herzegovina along with the Russian considerations. Emperor Franz Joseph I announced the annexation of Bosnia and Herzegovina during October of 1908.

As I entered the first room on the tour, I was dazzled by the delicate color scheme, exquisite furnishings and sense of intimacy. I felt as if I were stepping into the distant past, into someone’s home. I almost expected a member of the Petřvalds or Bertcholds to enter the space. The canopy bed captured my attention. The canopy was decorated in a pleasing pink, brown and white floral design. The wallpaper was stunning and cheerful, too, featuring pink flowers. A 17^th century jewelry box from Spain had a special compartment for love letters. I wondered who had written to whom, and what exactly had been discussed in that correspondence. Did the recipient wind up marrying the writer? Or were the letters full of passionate goodbyes or passionate dreams that would never be realized?

Left with those thoughts, I continued to the Small Dining Room which featured Rococo furnishings. Even though it was lavish, I liked the flamboyancy and playfulness of the Rococo style. Yet I also appreciated Gothic and Renaissance styles, so strikingly different from Rococo. There was one unique object in the room. It was a small car that looked like a wheelchair with a steering wheel and headlights. I wondered if children played in it or if adults used it to get from room to room.

In one bedroom a painting of Madonna and Child proved a copy of a work by Raphael. The furniture was Baroque. I loved the pink and white theme in the children’s bedroom. The wallpaper featuring pink ribbons on a white background was exquisite. The Silver Salon featured silver on the wood paneling. Bright yellow furnishings brought cheer to the room. In a side room the motif of a peacock decorated the furniture.

The oval Music Hall was stunning with its frescoes. The room had two storeys divided by a gallery with gold-plated metal railings. The walls and cupola featured stucco decoration. The elliptical ceiling fresco showed the genius of the arts presenting the completed castle to Anežka, Jan Dětřich’s wife. Fortune showers her with flowers. At the top of the cupola were allegories of the personality characteristics of Anežka – justice, innocence, fortitude and love of the arts. The frescoes of the four seasons were breathtaking, too. Then there were the four allegories of the elements. I was drawn to the angry, tall waves in the fresco depicting the allegory of water. I also noticed polychrome coats-of-arms and Corinthian columns in the majestic space.

In the library that housed Frantisek Palacký’s The History of the Czech Nation in Bohemia and Moravia as well as English, German and French books, I noticed a painting of Buchlov Castle above elaborate gold frames of portraits. I would visit Gothic Buchlov after wandering through the garden here. I knew it would be a totally different experience than the tour of this Baroque chateau.

The Big Dining Room featured red chairs with Hungarian porcelain. Two large, colorful Asian vases caught my eye. The chapel housed the oldest paintings in the chateau, dating from around 1600, and white stucco on the walls and ceiling. On the second floor I was enthralled by the bedroom of Leopold II Berchtold as the space was decorated in Napoleon style with the bed covered by what looked like a military tent.

The guide mentioned that Buchlovice was also home to an impressive collection of graphic art of the 16^th to 19^th centuries with 6,378 artworks. These renditions were situated in the depository, which was not part of the tour.

Now it was time to explore the English style garden, created at the beginning of the 18^th century. Sloping from west to east, the garden was divided into terraces. A bridge over a stream led to a large stairway with a vase-bearing balustrade. On the lower terrace I saw four statues of musicians and vases with masks of satyrs. Four statues featuring allegories of the continents also called the garden home. More than 800 species and varieties of fuchsias and numerous rhododendrons were also grown in the garden that contained exotic and rare woody species.

After a walk through the impressive garden terraces, I was eager to make my way to Buchlov. Peering at my watch, I wondered if I had enough time to walk through the forest paths to the Gothic gem and make the tour in time to return to Buchlovice for the bus back to Brno.

I would soon find out.

Tracy A. Burns is a writer, editor and proofreader in Prague.

Buchlov Castle Diary

August 20, 2013 by Tracy's Travels

I had wanted to walk through the forest from Buchlovice Chateau to Buchlov Castle, but I did not have enough time before my bus back to Brno left from Buchlovice. I went to the information office and asked if there was any way I could get to Buchlov and have enough time for the 90-minute tour. The young, blond woman suggested I call a local man who gives rides back and forth. Since the information office recommended him, I thought it would be safe. The stout, bearded man came within 10 minutes, and soon massive, Gothic Buchlov loomed above me, overpowering me with its sheer size and strength.

First, the guide, a lanky man wearing a T-shirt that pictured the castle, explained that the history of Buchlov went all the way back to around 1300, when it was first mentioned in writing. At that time, Buchlov was royal property, but Moravian noble families were put in charge of it. The design of the Early Gothic chapel, forged in the 1370s, was inspired by Sainte-Chapelle Chapel in Paris. Unfortunately, it was mostly destroyed by Hungarians in an attack during 1468 and later abolished. The first private owners of the castle were the Lords of Žerotín, who took it over in 1520. Their tenure at Buchlov was short-lived, however, and the Zástřizly nobility called it home for 100 years, from 1544 to 1644. During this era Renaissance reconstruction took place.

In 1644 the Petřvalds came and would own Buchlov until 1800. The Petřvald family made some Baroque changes in the 17^th and 18^th centuries. From 1800 the property was transferred to the counts of Berchtold, who would become major players in the castle’s history. The two half-brothers Leopold I Berchtold and Dr. Bedřich Berchtold had been world travelers, and many of the souvenirs they had collected on their trips were displayed in the castle. Dr. Bedřich had another claim to fame: he had been the co-founder of the collection at Prague’s National Museum. The older brother, Leopold I, was known for setting up schools and a poor house, among other achievements.

The family kept it until 1945, when the so-called Beneš decrees made it state property. The Beneš decrees stated that Germans, Nazi collaborators, traitors and others living in Czechoslovakia had to relinquish their Czechoslovak citizenship and property without compensation. The guide did not specify the reason why the Berchtolds had to give up the property, but I guessed it was because they had had German citizenship. Much reconstruction took place during the second half of the 20^th century and into the 21^st century.

An intriguing legend is associated with the linden tree situated in front of the Dancing Hall, home to 18^th century furnishings and Baroque portraits. According to the legend, some 400 years ago the tree was planted with its roots upward and its crown in the ground. It was said to be proof that a man sentenced to death for poaching was really innocent.

After passing through a gate hailing from the middle of the 16^th century, our group arrived at the third courtyard. In the black kitchen I marveled at the oldest architectural feature in the castle – the Late Romanesque arch dating back to 1340s. The pots and utensils were copies of those used in the Middle Ages.

The armory offered an intriguing perspective on the battle-ridden history of the castle. Some weapons dated back to 1421, when the Hussites tried to conquer Buchlov, and others hailed from the 17^th century Thirty Years’ War when the Swedes did much damage. Buchlov survived that war only because a ransom was paid. There were weapons from all over the world – from Asia as well as Central and South America, for example.

On the first floor we entered the Baroque library, which was home to about 10,000 volumes. Books that promoted Protestantism were removed after the Thirty Years’ War Battle of White Mountain in Prague during 1620. The Bohemian Protestant rebels were defeated by the armies of Holy Roman Emperor Ferdinand II, who was devoutly Catholic, and the German Catholic League.

In the early 17^th century the majority of the Bohemian nobility had been Protestant. When die-hard Catholic Ferdinand II was crowned Holy Roman Emperor and King of Bohemia, it meant serious trouble for the Protestants. After the Battle of White Mountain, the Czechs would find themselves under Habsburg rule, and German would become the prominent language of the lands. The books in Czech mostly came from the Czech National Revival, an 18^th and 19^th century movement that strived to promote the Czech language, Czech culture and national identity.

I saw an intriguing architectural detail of an Early Gothic portal where the chapel from the 1370s was situated, now an empty space with spectacular views of the countryside. Then we came to the Buchlov Madonna, whose expression seemed to be asking, “Is this kid mine?” The statue dated from the first half of the 14^th century. Another Madonna appeared to be trying to keep her son from wriggling away. There was also a rendition called “The Last Supper of the Lord,” a double-sided painting, part of a winged altar, which is composed of a central panel and two side panels. It dated from the end of the 15^th century. It always astonished me that artifacts from the 14^th or 15^th century could survive to the present day. It fascinated me how they were tangible connections with the distant past.

The Knights’ Hall featured cross vaulting and reticulated vaulting. These architectural elements were decorated with the coats-of-arms of significant Moravian clans. Then we came to a room decorated with an ornate tiled stove that flaunted cherubs and floral motifs in brown, green, yellow and white. A complete knight’s armor from the 16^th century weighed 30 kilograms. I could not imagine wearing it. I do not think I would even be able to stand up in that armor. I was intrigued by the calendar from the Middle Ages. I learned that February of 1693 had had 31 days.

The next section was the castle museum. It had been opened by Count Zikmund I Berchtold in 1856. Zikmund I had revolted against the Habsburgs in Hungary during 1848 and 1849. The rebellion was unsuccessful, and he got the death penalty. The court reduced his sentence to house arrest for life, so he organized the family museum. I saw plumed helmets, weapons of American Indians and the skins of a zebra, polar bear, grizzly bear and alligators. There were also human skeletons and a collection of shoes ranging from sandals to boots. In a jar was an embryo of a baby pig with eight legs and two tails. It made me think back to the revolting human embryos that Peter the Great had collected, now gathered in Saint Petersburg. My stomach had violently churned when I had seen them during that freezing April morning several years ago.

Then the guide explained that after the Battle of Slavkov in 1805 the nearby Buchlovice Chateau had been used as a hospital where military personnel and civilians had received free medical attention. Leopold I Berchtold caught typhus there and died at the relatively young age of 50. On the wall was a picture of a woman in the third stage of syphilis. She had large empty sockets for eyes, and her nose was black. Her teeth made her look sinister and dangerous. It was absolutely horrifying. She looked like a monster, not like a human being. I thought of people with cancer and how the horrible disease could make people look so emaciated. I felt lucky that I did not have cancer and that my father had survived two bouts with the terrifying illness. I knew I would keep the image of that woman, stripped of human dignity, in my mind for a long time.

The next room was totally different. It featured an Egyptian mummy in a coffin made of cedar wood. It was about 2,300 years old. The illusive wall painting dated from the first half of the 19^th century and made me feel as though I was inside an Egyptian tomb.

Last, we climbed the tower and saw astounding views of the south and east Moravian countryside. I could also see the church where the family tomb of the Petřvalds and Berchtolds was located, but it was not nearby, and we did not go there. We descended many steps and came to the locked door. For a moment I was disoriented and lost sight of the guide. Then he appeared and opened the door with one of his many large keys. We all filed out, into the sunshine. When I turned around to thank the guide, he had disappeared.

My driver came for me, and soon I was back in Buchlovice, standing at the bus sign on the highway as car after car sped by me. The bus did arrive on time, though, and before long I was back in Brno.

Tracy A. Burns is a writer, proofreader and editor living in Prague, Czech Republic.

Nové Hrady near Litomyšl Chateau Diary

August 12, 2013 by Tracy's Travels

About eight years ago I mentioned to several English students how I loved traveling to castles and chateaus on the weekends. “Have you been to Nové Hrady near Litomyšl? You have to go there!” my 25-year old female student blurted out, explaining that she was from a nearby town. I had visited Nové Hrady Castle in south Bohemia, but I had never heard of a Nové Hrady Chateau in east Bohemia. I could not find any public transportation at a convenient time, so I put this chateau on the back burner and explored others. Then, on a Friday in 2011, I was so eager to see the Rococo chateau I had looked up on the Internet, that I took the Student Agency bus to Hradec Králové, and then made the one-hour trip to Litomyšl. From there a friend who owned a cottage nearby gave me a lift to Nové Hrady.

The history of Nové Hrady began with the construction of a church on this site in the 12^th century. After the Hussite Wars in the 15^th century, a Gothic castle called “Nový Hrad” or “New Castle” was erected there. In the 16^th century the castle was transformed into a Renaissance chateau, but during The Thirty Years’ War it was plundered and destroyed. Duchess Anna Barbara Harbuval de Chamaré bought it in 1750, and Nové Hrady got its Rococo appearance from 1773 to 1777, when her son, French nobleman Jean-Antoine Harbural de Chamaré made it his summer residence.

Back then it was dubbed the “Small Schonbrunn” or “Czech Versailles.” The French garden, English park and chateau chapel were created at this time, too. In 1935 Knight Bartoň of Dobenín purchased it and carried out the needed repairs. During the Second World War, the SS and Hitlerjugend occupied the chateau. In 1948 it became the property of the state. One wing of the chateau was turned into an elementary school, which existed here until the 1980s. An exhibition of Rococo art was placed in another wing. During the 1950s the chateau’s situation became even more desolate: Its basement was transformed into a fattening farm for pigs.

Reconstruction was carried out in various phases, but the chateau was still in a very decrepit state when it was returned to its original owner’s grandson, Josef Bartoň, in 1990. Unfortunately, he did not renovate the chateau. Instead, he put it up for sale. In 1997 the Kučera family from Prague purchased it. It finally opened to the public in 2001.

Now it looked so majestic that it was impossible for me to imagine the chateau in such terrible condition. After going through a three-part gate, I walked through a Rococo garden with fountains and ascended a lavish staircase studded with statues. I liked the coral orangish color of the chateau that made the exterior appear playful, cheerful and vibrant.

I had visited enough chateaus to I know a little about the Rococo period. The key word for this style was ornate. Small sculptures often appeared as did lavish mirrors and tapestries. Rococo was even more extravagant than the Baroque style that had preceded it.

The tour began in the hallway below a monumental staircase enriched with putti statues. The side walls of the entrance hall were decorated with hunting trophies. We entered the large Main Hall with its creamy yellow walls and white rich stucco décor. The yellow and white colors made for an airy, joyful combination. The white tile stove was original, in Late Baroque style, and a white piano stood nearby. The crystal chandelier from Empress Marie Theresa’s era used 64 light bulbs and weighed 180 kilograms.

One window looked out to the Classicist circular gazebo with Baroque theatre of evenly sheared high bushes. In the wall the guide showed us two doors that opened outward to reveal a bar. From the terrace I saw the Rococo garden I had passed through to get to the box office. The staircase looked even more elegant from this perspective.

Next we entered a Baroque bedroom. The pillowcases on the Baroque bed had delicate, lace patterns. A brown table, oak closet and desk featured intarsia. A kneeler also hailed from the Baroque era. In the following room there was a grandfather clock that the guide claimed was impossible to repair. A kneeler featured an engraving of a house and trees using the intarsia technique. A Baroque intarsia table from Holland with motifs of flowers, birds, butterflies and vases rounded out the room.

Then came the Rococo Salon. The table and armchairs had a white floral design. The table impressed me the most with the ornate, gold ornamentation of its legs and sides. A white wardrobe decorated with green laurels was pleasing to the eye. The couch and chairs were pea green with yellow, flaunting a floral pattern. The green color combined with yellow gave the furniture a cheerful appearance.

Unfortunately, original Rococo chapel had been destroyed. The present chapel was sparse. It featured two stained glass windows and a large carving of Jesus Christ on a cross.

Then it was time for another Rococo style room featuring intarsia. The tops of two dressing tables were decorated with beads shaped into green swirls on a blue and black background. The space also contained two intarsia dressers decorated with floral motifs and a kneeler boasting intarsia.

In the former kitchen the 18^th century grandfather clock, varnished in red, was engraved with Oriental themes, one feature of the Rococo period. A desk featuring Oriental themes, depicting Chinese people and nature, caught my eye. The two jewelry boxes were Chinese, too.

The next room was called the Classicism Room. Classicism relied on order, symmetry and simplicity and began after 1765 as a reaction to Baroque and Rococo. It was connected with the French Revolution. The striped grey with tan couch and two chairs certainly fit the Classicist description. In a display case there were two elegant fans.

However, a clock glittering with gold made me think of the Empire Style that would be featured in the next room. After all, the gold and black color combination was one trait of the Empire style that corresponded with the era of Emperor Napoleon and his military maneuvers into Egypt during 1796. Oriental themes also played a part in the Empire style. Sure enough, in The Empire style room, black and gold freely mingled. A black clock featured two black men wearing gold loincloths and sporting heads of golden hair. Another gold clock was decorated with a seated angel. The furniture featured Oriental and animal themes.

The next room was set up in the Biedermeier style, from the first half of the 19^th century. Carving and intarsia still appeared in smaller objects. A picture of a semi-circular square flanked by columns showed a passion for symmetry and order. I wondered if the painting depicted a place in Rome. The striped chairs and couch featured a simple yet elegant style.

The Smokers’ Salon was all about green. The rug was green, the cushions on the brown chairs were green, a partition was green, and a loveseat was decorated with green and tan stripes. This room was designed in the Art Nouveau style from the beginning of the 20^th century.

After the tour I explored the garden. There was a pond to my left, near the road. One part consisted of trees and plants on a slope, rising in tiers. It looked wild and untamed. Purple flowers lined a path behind the back gate that had its private garden. I spotted the Baroque theatre of shrubbery and the Classicist garden summerhouse. Further on, there was a hotel, an orangery, a paddock for horses, and an area where deer were bred.

I was very impressed with the Rococo exterior of the chateau, and it had been intriguing for me to see furniture and objects from various periods inside. The tour enlightened me as to the differences between eras. My understanding of the various time periods was enriched. I loved the black with gold combination of some objects. I wish the chateau had more paintings, though. A painting gallery of Baroque and Rococo art would have really added to the already stunning tour.

Soon I got back to Litomyšl, where I ate some chicken with peaches and cheese – my favorite – and then hurried to catch the 1 pm bus back to Hradec Králové. Upon arriving there, I ran to the other side of the terminal, where the Student Agency bus was about to leave for Prague. I made it just in time.

Tracy A. Burns is a writer, proofreader and editor living in Prague.

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