Kačina Chateau Diary

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My friend and I went to the chateau by car, driving a little over an hour to the sprawling white-columned, two-floor chateau of Kačina, sporting an elegant tympanum on its main façade. I would visit again, in 2020, also by car.

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The huge chateau – the biggest 19th century Empire style chateau in the Czech lands – boasts not only representative rooms in 19th century Empire, Biedermeier and Classicist styles but also a 19th century library, theatre and pharmacy plus an agricultural museum. An unfinished chapel is on the vast grounds as well. The chateau was built from 1802 to 1822.

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The balanced Empire style hails from the early 19th century when symbols and decorations were influenced by ancient Greece and Rome. Biedermeier style, from 1815-1845, refers to furniture that is simple yet elegant with very little decoration. During this period ebony, cherry, ash and oak woods were often used. The Classicist trend can be defined as symmetrical, proportional and geometrical, taking its name from the style utilized in Classical antiquity and that of ancient Rome.  Architecture of this style is very well-organized with columns, pilasters, lintels, hemispheric domes and niches.

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I was lucky that I had a guide who was so enthusiastic and knowledgeable about the place. When I came back in 2020, I had another terrific guide. In fact, I had always had the best guides at this chateau: they were enthusiastic and animated, not merely uttering words they had memorized from a text. Their zeal was contagious. They were exactly the kind of guides I wished I had had on every tour I had taken. The details of each room just spewed spontaneously from this tour guide’s mouth. She even took me to parts of the chateau that were usually off-limits to tourists.

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First, we hit the representative rooms. The ground floor consisted of the spaces used for social occasions and guest rooms while the first floor, which cannot be visited, had been made into a family residence.

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The first room we walked into took my breath away. This hallway with a roundel or circular window that is 16 meters high was so light and airy yet elegant that it reminded me a bit of the Pantheon in Rome. I remembered sitting across from the Pantheon at a restaurant for my fortieth birthday dinner, an experience I shared with my parents. That was one of my most treasured travel-related memories. We continued into a hallway with some hunting trophies and black-and-white British lithographs sporting hunting and horse-jumping themes.

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The first three rooms, formerly guest rooms, gave background information about the chateau and explained the history of the Chotek family, who had chosen this chateau as their summer residence during the 19th century. Models of chateaus adorned each room, such as the blood red model of Veltrusy, destroyed by the 2002 floods, the chateau where the Choteks had once had their family residence. In a portrait Jan Rudolf Chotek, the founder of Kačina, looked as if he was harboring a secret he would never reveal.

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First, you need some background about the Chotek family. Veltrusy Chateau was their family residence from 1716 to the 20th century. Jan Karel served the emperor as an armorer, and his youngest son Rudolf worked as the highest chancellor in the Czech lands. Because he did not have a son, his nephew Jan Rudolf took over in the 18th century. Jan Rudolf was a man of many achievements. He built the magnificent park in Veltrusy and Kačina chateau in the 19th century. He was responsible for the construction of many embankments and parks throughout the Czech lands.

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His youngest son Karel spent 17 years as the highest Czech burgrave and built the highway between Karlovy Vary and Mariánské Lážne. He even learned Czech from legendary historian František Palacký. He also established a residence at Velké Březno chateau, built from 1842-1854, in northern Bohemia – a charming building that looks like a hunting lodge or villa. I fondly recalled my trip to Velké Březno, where I had looked out the window at the park, suddenly feeling free of stress as if I had been cleansed of my worries. Ferdinand Maria Chotek, the fourth son of Jan Rudolf, was the Olomouc archbishop for four years. Žofie Chotková married František Ferdinand d’ Este, both of whom were assassinated in 1914.

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The last male Chotek was Karel, who along with his wife Lívie became German citizens after World War II and emigrated to Germany. During the war the chateau was sold to the Germans, and the HitlerJugend resided there. The chateau was nationalized after the war according to the Beneš decrees, which gave property owned by Germans during the war to the state.  In 1950 the chateau belonged to the Ministry of Agriculture, and it became an agricultural museum. Now the chateau looks as it did when Jan Rudolf lived here. The coat-of-arms for the Chotek family shows a half wheel, a gold bear in a blue field and a black imperial eagle on gold.

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The ladies’ wing was first, then the men’s wing. The Ladies’ Study boasted pink and grey decor with white ornamentation. Family portraits adorned the walls as did pictures of three summerhouses that once graced the park, founded as far back as 1789 and now composed of 20 hectares with 61 kinds of trees and 20 kinds of bushes. An oil painting depicted knights readying for a tournament on Chotek property. I gazed at a square, gold clock in a gold frame, positioned high on a wall. I was drawn to the geometric symmetry of the square design.

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Next was the Pink Salon. The original chandelier was second Rococo in style, gilded with gold and dominated by Czech crystal. An Empire style small black table with gold legs and a circular table with the same decoration got my attention. Pink and white porcelain dominated a circular table in the middle of the room. Corinthian columns were painted on the walls.

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The Ladies’ Bedroom included some magnificent intarsia furniture. A picture with cupids was carved into a wooden bedframe.  I immediately took to the Empire style black-and-purple closets for accessories in the Ladies Changing Room. A light pink chair and couch complemented a Venetian mirror decorated with black and pink. The purple, pink and black colors went together superbly, I mused.

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The Small Dining Room, still used for concerts, included an Empire style table and a Biedermeier side table plus a gold chandelier. The Dance Hall was 22 meters long, 12 meters wide and 16 meters high with fantastic roundels. A crystal chandelier captivated me. The brown parquets on the floor sported circular and diamond shapes. For a moment we stood on the terrace and took in the vastness of the park land around us.

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The Men’s Salon had a Baroque pool table, but it was the Renaissance brown tiled stove that entranced me. The unique feature of the room was the oak leaf motif. I recalled that oak was often utilized in the Biedermeier style. Wooden circles with oak leaf motifs decorated the ceiling and the tops of the walls. Frames were also covered in wooden oak leaf ornamentation. The couch and chairs were Second Rococo in style. I noticed that the armchairs where the Choteks sat when playing cards were very low.  I wondered what sort of conversations had taken place there while the Choteks had played cards. What had they talked about? What were their interests and worries? What events had brought them joy? Vienna porcelain and Czech glass also lit up the room.

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The white stove in the Music Room had white décor and hailed from the Second Rococo period. I also noticed a Baroque bureau and two big portraits of Jan Rudolf Chotek and his youngest son Karel, both wearing prestigious golden medals around their necks. Jan Rudolf was holding a plan of Kačina in one hand while Prague dominated the background of Karel’s portrait.

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The furniture in the Men’s Study or Smoking Room was captivating as well. The green couch and chairs were Empire style as was the chandelier. The desk hailed from the Biedermeier period. I notice a small statue of Empress Elizabeth, fondly called Sissy, on a desk top. I thought about how she had loathed the strict regimen of royal life and how she danced to the beat of her own drum. She had become a symbol of individual identity during her 44-year reign as the longest reigning Austrian empress. She had been so independent, traveling around the world. And she had had to deal with so many tragedies. A large portrait of her husband, Austro-Hungarian Emperor Frantisek Josef I, also hung here – in the painting he was a young man with many medals on his uniform. The young man in that painting would become the most respected and most beloved member of the Habsburg dynasty, ruling the Austrian Empire and then Austro-Hungarian Empire for 68 years, the third longest reign in the history of Europe.

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On another wall was a huge brown map of the Chotek property as of 1734. The guide pointed out that the fields were numbered. There was also a secret door to the south colonnade, but we went downstairs instead to see the former bathroom, which was a large hole in the dilapidated floor. The person taking the bath used to sit on a chair in the tub while servants poured water over him or her.

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We trekked upstairs again, this time to the Men’s Bedroom. The prayer stool was made with intarsia, wooden with wood decoration. Paintings with religious themes also adorned the room. Plants made the room come alive. In the Men’s Changing Room there were small paintings of Italian towns on the walls. The chandelier hailed from the Empire period. The Hunting Salon was dominated by a polar bear rug. I noticed the animal’s sharp teeth.  A white tiled stove boasted white ornamentation with two female figures on its sides. Oriental chairs also made up the space. The furniture was Baroque and pseudo-Baroque and included a Baroque bureau.

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The Big Dining Room featured a folding table that usually sat 24 guests during the Chotek’s days. The table was decorated with a green clover motif. Each chair had the coat-of-arms of the Chotek family with a crown on top. The rich wooden décor on the wooden sideboard got my attention. Ceramics and the Chotek coat-of-arms were displayed on the superb piece of wooden furniture. A Second Rococo mirror had a lavish gold frame with the coat-of-arms prominent at the top. The high walls were decorated with gilded wood, and an exquisite crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling. There was also a secret door.

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Next came the library, my favorite part of the tour. Roundels or circular windows with painted cupolas and stylized squares allowed light to stream into the three sections, onto the colored shapes on the floor. The library from the turn of the 19th century reminded me of a structure out of antiquity. The fake grey marble columns gave the place a dignified air. Tall bookcases were crammed with books, some of which looked like they had golden spines. A gallery above held magazines and newspapers. The Chotek coat-of-arms was present on all 40,000 volumes, the guide said. Mostly written in German, the books also included publications in French, Spanish, Italian and old Czech. Some of the volumes were older than 1500 – the oldest was a book of Russian psalms hailing from 1480.

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Among the most significant in the space was the 18-volume complete set of the French Description of Egypt from 1809-1818, which consisted of encyclopedias that documented everything French military leader and political leader Napoléon Bonaparte had seen in Egypt, from plants to pyramids. There were only two other complete sets in the world: one was in the Louvre and the other in the King’s Library in England. These books were printed specifically for European rulers. 

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The editions in the breathtaking space also included 398 handwritten manuscripts, 38 handwritten maps and 250 catalogues. Among the books, I saw downstairs in the first part were S. Dionysii Opera, a fat two-volume set and collections of Lumír magazine, established in 1851 and written by Czech patriots such as Karel Havlíček Borovksý, who is considered the founder of Czech journalism, satire and literary criticism. Tall medical books stood nearby.

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The second part of the library was a study with small statues of Czech rulers and one of Michelangelo. Among the 19th century statues, I spotted the mythical Libuše who prophesized the founding of Prague; Jiří of Poděbrady, a Czech king who ruled from 1458 to 1471; Emperor and Czech king Charles IV, who reigned from 1346 to 1378 and was responsible for founding Charles University, the New Town in Prague and the Charles Bridge; and Holy Roman Emperor and Czech king Rudolf II, who was in charge from 1576 to 1611 and is known for his love of alchemy and cultural pursuits.

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Then the guide showed me the object that enthralled me the most during my visit. It was a globe put together in eight layers. There were top and bottom layers and then six layers representing the continents. On one side was a picture of a continent, and on the other side there was information about it. I spotted a polar bear on one picture. It seemed to me to be an excellent visual teaching aide for young students.

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The third part was dominated by a huge vase with ornate décor. I could see Romulus and Remus with a wolf in relief on the exquisite object. Then the guide showed me an Empire style card catalogue, with a card for each book. The golden writing on the cards had been scribed in flowing, fancy script.

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Then we went up a narrow staircase to the gallery, a part that was usually off-limits to tourists. I spotted editions of the newspaper Prager Zeitung and sheets containing information about new publications in the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Illustrated magazines were also kept here.

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The guide even led me through the back study rooms. Paintings adorned the walls, and I spotted a grey tiled stove with white ornamentation. Each painting hung in one space had been executed with a different technique. A display case illustrated the technology of painting and materials for painters, such as paraffin. In another display case I saw handmade paper and an ancient book made from handmade paper.

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Yet another space featured brightly colored, dynamic scenes of Divoká Šárka Park in Prague, one painting for each month, though the set here was not complete. I was entranced by the green hills of the park I loved so much, where I felt so at home, one which reminded me a bit of Vermont. I was glad I lived so close to that park. It made me feel relaxed and worry-free.

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Soon we came to the 19th century pharmacy. One exhibit showed how to dry herbs, another displayed various baskets. A machine for mixing syrup was on display, too. I saw a press for making fresh herbs and a press for making tablets as well. The jars behind the counter and old scale came in various colors. A large book about herbs dated from 1920. Ceramic jugs also decorated the room.

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The theatre, on the opposite side of the chateau, hailed from 1851. It had never been open to the public. It was used only by the Choteks and their good friends. The Chotek family wrote the plays themselves in German and acted them out. Jan Rudolf’s 15 plays on then current themes are now in Prague’s National Museum. The group had even prepared plays by William Shakespeare, tailoring them to their own needs. How I would have loved to have seen those plays!

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The stage was made of wood, but it was not original. The walls were made of imitation marble on the lower section while stylized painting adorned the upper half. A compartment seated four people in the middle of the back wall. The two balconies boasted gold and black decoration. There was an orchestra pit, and there were pulleys above the stage. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling that had been partially damaged by water during the 1960s. Some set designs had been saved. The gallery now contained wooden benches, but it had consisted of comfortable chairs back in the Chotek days. There were bleachers for standing room at the top level. On the relatively new ceiling I spotted the two bears holding a coat-of-arms.

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Last but not least we visited the unfinished chapel, which was occasionally decorated with flowers and candles and used for weddings. What had been initially planned to be a crypt was only a hole because it was never completed. In the 1950s the floor had been cemented. Before that, it was made of earth. The cross-shaped structure was composed of rock with brick so it could be dry. I imagined how breathtaking the chapel would have looked if it had been finished in a simple and elegant Empire style, for instance.

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Then it was time to say goodbye to one of the best guides I had ever met. I thanked her profusely and my friend and I went to nearby Kutná Hora, where a sumptuous chicken lunch awaited me. We walked briefly through the picturesque town, up the hill to Saint Barbara’s Cathedral and along the bridge flanked by statues. All too soon, though, it was time to head back to Prague.

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

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Regensburg Diary

A view of the town from the Stone Bridge

A view of the town from the Stone Bridge

 

My boss at a languageschool where I had taught had praised Regensburg back in 1997. Ever since then, I had wanted to visit the historic town, but the trip kept being postponed. Then I went on a one-day excursion with arsviva to Bamberg, Germany and got my first taste of the wonders of Bavaria. (I only have faint memories of my visit to Munich when I was nine years old.) I was so enthralled with Bamberg that I just had to explore other towns in Bavaria. So, during October of 2013, the next time I had a few days off work, I took the train to Regensburg.

The direct train only took a little over four hours to get to the only preserved medieval town in Germany. On the train I acquainted myself with the history of this architectural gem. A UNESCO World Heritage site since 2000, Regensburg did not experience much destruction during World War II, enabling it to keep its medieval character. A Roman military camp was located there as far back as 179 AD, and the Romans would greatly influence the town for 300 years. During the Middle Ages, emperors, dukes and kings had frequented the town. After it became a part of the Carolingian Empire, Charlemagne visited Regensburg three times. Regensburg acquired the status of a Free Imperial City in 1245 and also was a bustling trade center. The town lost its independence and became part of the Duchy of Bavaria in 1486, but soon the tables turned again, and Regensburg regained its independence.

The facade of an architecturally intriguing building in Regensburg

The facade of an architecturally intriguing building in Regensburg

When the Turks overtook Constantinople, this Bavarian city was no longer a gateway to the East, triggering financial hardships. As a result, according to the unwritten law that blamed minorities for economic difficulties, the Jews were expelled in 1519. During 1542 Regensburg became a Protestant town. The town became a household name once again when the Imperial Diet political gatherings took place there for 150 years, from 1663 to 1806, when the assembly of estates held conferences at the Old Town Hall. Electors and princes were among those present for the meetings.

During Napoleon’s reign the town found itself in dire straits. The Imperial Diet was cancelled in 1806, and Regensburg was stripped of its independence once again. In 1810 it became a part of the Kingdom of Bavaria. From 1945 to 1949, the town was the site of the largest displaced persons’ camp in Germany, with mostly Ukrainians in residence. And to think that throughout all those centuries, throughout all those trials and tribulations, Regensburg never lost its medieval flavor!

The Hotel Kaiserhof across from the cathedral

The Hotel Kaiserhof across from the cathedral

My hotel, the pistachio-colored Hotel Kaiserhof, was situated across from St. Peter’s Cathedral, a Gothic wonder. The clean, no-frills, comfortable room sported a double bed, even though I was paying for a single room. I had stayed in other singles the size of a closet in various hotels throughout Europe. It was refreshing to find myself in a room that was spacious enough, though not large.

After unpacking the necessities, I headed straight for the St. Peter’s Cathedral. The first cathedral in the town had hailed from the end of the eighth or ninth century, but it fell victim to a fire in 1273. Then this cathedral was erected in a Gothic style inspired by France.  However, there were interruptions, and the cathedral was not completed until 1872, some 600 years later. The west façade boasts two towers while the cathedral has a triple-choir design. The nave is short and has five bays. I had read that the architectural design of the cathedral had influenced Peter Parler’s plans for Prague’s St. Vitus Cathedral, my favorite cathedral in the world.

St. Peter's Cathedral

St. Peter’s Cathedral

The medieval sculptural decoration on the façade, which dated from around 1400, was breathtaking.  On the train I had learned that this sculptural adornment ranked among the most impressive artistry of the Middle Ages. I gazed up at the main portal with its stunning tympanum and the 22 reliefs focusing on the Virgin Mary’s life.

On the south portal I was awed by a scene showing St. Peter being scooped out of prison by an angel.  I could hardly believe that the relief hailed from 1320. The tympanum of the south façade boasted plentiful rich sculptural ornamentation as well. Reliefs decorated the buttress fronts, too. I spotted St. Peter in a boat, a rendition that I knew appeared on the current coats-of-arms for the cathedral chapter.

However, it made my stomach churn when I saw a sculptural figure of Jews suckling from a pig. I recalled reading that Jews had been expelled from the town in the 16th century. The anti-Semitic artwork reminded me of the anti-Semitic and racist portraits of a Jew, an Arab and a black man stricken with diseases in the library of the Hrádek u Nechanic Chateau in Bohemia. I also recalled eating in a pizzeria in downtown Prague a few years ago, when a waiter told me that Neo-Nazis were marching through the Jewish Town. I also thought of the prejudice against Roma in Czech society today. So many centuries later and religious and racial tolerance were still serious concerns.

The rich ornamentation on the facade of the cathedral

The rich ornamentation on the facade of the cathedral

Upon entering the cathedral, I was instantly transported back to the Middle Ages. It was dark and gloomy except for the light that the stained glass windows let in, giving the cathedral an airy quality. Made from 1300 to 1370, the windows had a mystical aura. I felt as if the light cleansed me spiritually, as if it cleansed my soul. I was so entranced. I could not believe I was looking at original Gothic stained glass. I had read that one window portrayed scenes from Christ’s childhood while another showed scenes from the lives of St. Peter and St. Paul. Pictures of saints decorated the windows, too. Some of the stained glass came from the original cathedral that had burned down. That part was in Romanesque style, dating from 1230.

The vibrant colors inside the cathedral

The vibrant colors inside the cathedral

Then I took notice of sculptural figures of St. George and St. Martin on horseback. They were remarkable works of art hailing from the 14th century.  I also saw something I had never seen before – creepy creatures with human heads in niches near the main entrance. Called the Devil and his Grandmother, the figures supposedly kept away any evil spirits that might try to wander inside. Bishops’ tombs also made up the interior. A stone sculpture of a Madonna and Child above one altar was created in 1320. A huge colored wooden crucifix dated from the 16th century. The main altar was silver and was made glorious by busts of St. Mary and St. Joseph as well as Saints Peter and Paul.

On one section there was a relief of St. John of Nepomuk, a Czech saint who was thrown into Prague’s Vltava River from the Charles Bridge on the order of Bohemian King Wenceslas IV, who was married to Joanna of Bavaria. The Queen’s confessor, John of Nepomuk would not tell the king what his wife had said to him in confidence. I thought of the many times I had walked by the five-haloed statue of St. John of Nepomuk on the Charles Bridge. Once again focusing on this cathedral, I was amazed by the ribbed vaulting designed with crossing piers. There was a Late Gothic pulpit, and exquisitely carved Baroque stalls adorned the nave.

One of the side altars in the cathedral

One of the side altars in the cathedral

Another highlight of the interior for me was the Smiling or Laughing Angel, one of the Annunciation figures. Enthusiastic about bearing exciting news for Mary, the angel was absolutely jubilant, and the sense of pure happiness that emanated from the sculpture made me joyful and thankful for everything I had in life. The joy was characterized by a sense of innocence, and it brought to mind the happy moments of my childhood. Opening Christmas presents in my grandparents’ house as Grandpa pretended to be Santa Claus, striking out batter after batter in Little League baseball, riding my sleigh in the fresh snow near our townhouse, reading Paddington the Bear books over and over, holding my Paddington and Snoopy stuffed animals, receiving an autographed picture from one of my favorite baseball or ice hockey players, hugging my mother and knowing that everything would be okay. I was amazed that a sculptural figure from the late 13th century could depict emotions so poignantly.

Downtown Regensburg

Downtown Regensburg

Then I walked around the center of the town, admiring the large patrician houses, some even with towers. One building dating from the 14th century even had a fresco of David and Goliath, created from 1570 to 1580. Dating back to the 12th century, the Stone Bridge measures 30 meters in length and includes 15 arches. I tried to imagine knights of the second and third Crusades marching over the bridge on their way to the Holy Land. The views of the river and town from the bridge were incredible. I loved the small street called Kramgasse, next to my hotel. Once home to shops of grocers and junk dealers, now it flaunted luxurious shops. The oriels on the buildings intrigued me. 

There were other delights in this colorful, vibrant town, too. The Fountain of Bishop’s Court was built in 1980 and showed a priest giving a sermon to geese while a fox nabbed one goose by the neck.  In the tale the priest is an impostor, the Devil pretending to be a man of the cloth. It made me think of the false friends I had known through the years, the times I felt betrayed by people I had trusted.

View from the Stone Bridge

View from the Stone Bridge

I explored Neupfarrplatz, where the homes of 500 Jews had once been located until their expulsion in the early 16th century. The homes were gone now, and stylish shops lined the square. A reminder of the Jewish presence in the town, a relief showed the floor plan of a Jewish synagogue that had once stood near the middle of the square. I felt an emotional connection with the relief. It was modern and fresh, yet also represented the lost history of the town.

The Goldener Turm, built from 1250 to 1300, included the highest patrician tower in the city. Part of the Old Town Hall dated from the 13th century and had a tower, too. I was intrigued by its Gothic windows. Patrician houses also lined Haidplatz Square. Emperor Karl V had been a guest at the architecturally captivating Goldenes Kreuz building. I also gazed at the Porta Praetoria Roman gate from 179 AD with its stone arch and side tower. As I walked through the center of town, I was surprised that Regensburg had so many tea shops and bookstores. A teetotaler and a literature addict, I wandered through each one. The varieties of teas offered were astounding.

In the morning I ate croissants in the hotel’s quaint breakfast room and headed for the Collegiate Church of Our Lady of the Alte Kapelle. A farmer’s market was in progress in the square where the church was situated. All the fruit and vegetables looked delicious. 

The interior of the Alte Kapelle

The interior of the Alte Kapelle

I knew the church dated from 875, when a grandson of Charlemagne had it erected. The medieval sculptures decorating the main portal did not prepare me for the strikingly different interior. I gaped at the 18th century Baroque and Rococo ornamentation. This was definitely one of the most beautiful chapels I had ever seen.  It was light and airy, full of vibrant colors that emitted joy and hope. The main painting depicted the Pope handing Holy Roman Emperor Henry (Heinrich) II a picture of the Virgin Mary.  It was only possible to see the two naves and six bays through an iron grille, unfortunately. I longed to walk through the chapel and peer closely at each decoration.

The Alte Kapelle

The Alte Kapelle

The stucco work was astounding, and the white walls were adorned with putti. The frescoes narrated described the legend of how the church came into being. They also celebrated the Virgin Mary as the patron saint of the church and glorified the founders of the church, Emperor Henry II and Empress Cunigunde of Luxembourg. Emperor Henry II had believed in centralized authority and had strongly supported the Catholic Church. Due to his devotion to the Catholic Church, Pope Eugene III canonized him in 1146. He was the only German bestowed this honor. His wife Cunigunde was involved in politics, participating in the Imperial Diets in Regensburg. She is said to have performed miracles, such as walking over flaming irons. One fresco showed the Virgin Mary as the Queen of Heaven, surrounded by angels and saints. The main altar was decorated in rocaille and focused on the Virgin Mary. God the Father was perched on a globe above her, and a dove symbolizing the Holy Ghost also appeared.

It fascinated me that this church retained elements of the Middle Ages and at the same time celebrated the Baroque and Rococo periods with a flourish. I could not get over how the 18th century styles gave the chapel a sort of weightlessness and airiness that so poignantly represented joy and hope for me.  It was uplifting. I was in an ever better mood when I left the chapel, after staring through the grille for at least a half hour.

Next I found my way to the Emmeram Abbey. I would be touring the Thurn und Taxis Palace adjacent to it later in the day. The monastery had gained independence from the bishopric in 975 and did not lose its independence until 1803. Then, at the beginning of the 19th century, the abbey was secularized. The King of Bavaria gave the Thurn und Taxis family the monastery because the postal services that they had managed for centuries had been nationalized. I had read that the stone reliefs on the north portal, dating from the Middle Ages, were the oldest north of the Alps.

Religious ornamentation on the facade of a building

Religious ornamentation on the facade of a building

The complex was named after the bishop Emmeram, who had lived in Regensburg in the 700s. Inside frescoes told his exciting life story: He had worked as a missionary for Theodo I, the Duke of Bavaria and was much respected throughout the realm. Then the duke’s unwed daughter confided in him that she was pregnant, and she did not want to tell the duke who the father was. Emmeram advised her to lie and say that he was the father. Then he set off on a pilgrimage to Rome.

When the duke’s daughter told her father the news, he had his son and followers chase Emmeram. When they caught the pious missionary, the duke’s followers tied him to a ladder and chopped him into pieces, slowly torturing him. Then the duke found out that Emmeram was not the father of his daughter’s child and ordered his body to be bought back to Regensburg. Emmeram was made a saint.  I also saw fascinating altars and a crypt dating from 780, showing off masterful Romanesque architecture.  The high altar hailed from 1669.

My next stop was the palace. I had to use an audio guide at the palace because the tours were only in German.  I was disappointed that the Electors’ Fountain was covered in scaffolding. I wanted to see the sculpture of Emperor Arnulf bearing a scepter and shield and the eight coats-of-arms standing for the Holy Roman Empire and the seven electors who selected the emperor.

The architecture of Regensburg

The architecture of Regensburg

Upon entering the palace, we came to a monumental marble staircase. The guide spoke animatedly for some minutes before my audio guide started. The German-speaking tourists were enthralled with whatever he was saying. Then we went up one of the 14 marble staircases in the complex that was the largest residential palace in Germany. It included more than 500 rooms. A ceiling  painting looked as if it was about to burst with color above the staircase.

The Thurn und Taxis clan dated back to the 13th century when the family was named Tasso. During the end of the 15th century, Francesco Tasso created the first postal system going from Innsbruck to Brussels. It took a week for the mail to reach its destination. The key to its success was that the rider and horse were changed at each postal station. For his ingenuity, Tasso was given nobility status by Emperor Maximilian I and thus became Franz von Taxis in 1512. By the end of the 18th century, the postal system was flourishing.

Then bad times came. At the beginning of the 19th century, most of the postal service was nationalized. The French Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte put an end to the Thurn und Taxis’ control of the postal service in 1815. After the Napoleonic era, the family managed the postal service once again, but only until Otto von Bismarck became Chancellor of the North Germany Federation in 1867. A very conservative politician and nationalist who did not favor democracy, the prominent Prussian statesman was responsible for forming the German Empire in 1871.

A fascinating facade in downtown Regensburg

A fascinating facade in downtown Regensburg

I was intrigued by the grotesque figures on the ceiling of the Conservatory, also called the Winter Garden. Female figures represented the seasons, though winter was conspicuously absent. I noticed that a sickle and grain stood for summer. The Brussels’ tapestries in the Large Dining Room were astounding. The Throne Room featured a throne from the 18th century and tapestry decoration. The Ballroom took my breath away. Its wall paneling, frames, balustrades and stucco ceilings boasted Rococo and Neo-Rococo styles. Faience Neo-Rococo stoves were present, too. The Ballroom, created in 1730, had been transported from Frankfurt to Regensburg in 1890, when the Thurn und Taxis clan moved to Regensburg. Even the glass chandeliers had been equipped with electric lighting at the end of the 19th century. I liked the idyllic landscape paintings hung high on the walls and the rich white decoration that included garlands and putti as well as plant and ribbon motifs.

I noticed a portrait of Elizabeth of Austria, often called Sisi, in the Balcony Room. Because her sister Helene was married to Crown Prince Maximilian Anton von Thurn und Taxis, she had often stayed here. The sisters’ father had been a Bavarian Duke while their mother was the daughter of the Bavarian King. I had read how uncomfortable Sisi had felt around the ceremony of royal life and how she had been a free spirit who had traveled around the world. I thought about Franz Joseph intending to propose to Helene but changing his mind and asking for Sisi’s hand in marriage instead. And I thought of Sisi’s assassination in Geneva, when an Italian anarchist stabbed her while she was taking a walk. And I remembered reading about the lavish funeral with all the pomp and ceremony that she had despised.

The gate to the Stone Bridge

The gate to the Stone Bridge

The Silver Room featured a silver chandelier with cupids holding candles. The tapestry with a battle theme in the Gobelin Salon got my attention as well. The Yellow Salon exploded with color. It was decorated in Rococo style and dated from about 1740.  I tried to imagine members of the noble family playing music here, the tinkling of piano keys or rich melody of a clarinet. I was happy whenever I saw yellow because it was my Mom’s favorite color and the color of the kitchen walls in my parents’ house. I recalled all the earnest conversations I had with my Mom, seated at that circular kitchen table, sipping green or black tea.

The Green Salon had served as a bedroom for Princess Therese from 1812. I was mesmerized by the bed decorated with four swan figures on its legs. I loved the detail of the feathers and long necks of the swans. A curtain was adorned with gold bees. Both the swans and bees were characteristics of the French style that dominated this room. In the Czar Nikolaus Salon a portrait of Princess Theresa von Thurn und Taxis showed the 37-year old clad in a chemise dress and wearing pearls in front of a forest. I noticed an exquisite blue with gold tea set in another room.

Then we came to a contemporary art exhibition of portraits of the living family. The portraits of four women and one young man had blinking eyes. I thought it was a good idea to put portraits of the current family in the exposition, but I did not understand why their eyes were blinking. I guess it was meant to emphasize that they were living, that the tradition of the family continued, but it seemed out-of-place with the décor of the other rooms. Then I saw the House Chapel that had once been a bedroom for Crown Princess Helene. After the Princess’ death in 1890, her son Prince Albert I had it reconstructed into a chapel. The alloyed coats-of-arms decorating the windows impressed me.

Regensburg's cathedral dominates the skyline.

Regensburg’s cathedral dominates the skyline.

Next we entered part of the cloister. I imagined monks walking through the round Romanesque arches while singing hymns. I saw statues dating back to 1200. I imagined how the room had looked in the Middle Ages with its then colorful decoration depicting biblical stories. I admired a Neo-Gothic tomb chapel as well. Another wing featured high and thin Gothic arches. The cloisters were certainly full of architectural wonders!

After touring the palace, I visited its museum. I saw a Japanese lacquered cabinet from 1690 and took special notice of the exquisite Asian landscape scenes on the front. White gold porcelain featured floral motifs. A ceremonial carrying chair also caught my attention. Medals from the chivalry Order of the Golden Fleece that was founded in 1430 and 55 richly decorated 18th century snuff boxes also made up the exhibition. One room was decorated with Biedermeier furniture, dating from 1815 to 1848. The furniture was not positioned against the walls in order to encourage communication. The highlight, though, was the white with gold porcelain service set from the early 1700s, made by a Viennese manufacturer that had only been in existence for 30 years. It was the only complete service of this manufacturer in the world.

The Old Town Hall

The Old Town Hall

I had a late lunch at an otherwise empty café near the monastery. It was decorated plainly and appeared to be a place for locals as the menu of five entrees was written only in German. I imagined that the restaurant would be packed on weekdays. I chose the Wiener Schnitzel and received a generous portion. It was delicious. I had dessert at the oldest coffeehouse in Germany, the Café Prinzess, where I managed to find a free table despite the crowd. I ordered almond cake and green tea. Surprisingly, service was not slow. The cake and the green tea were excellent.

Soon it was time for the English tour of the Old Town Hall across the street from the coffeehouse. I got a free ticket because I have a press pass and would be writing about the exhibition. However, only the torture chambers in the cellar were open that day. The lavish rooms once used for the Imperial Diet were closed for a conference. Two tourists complained that they had to pay full price for their tickets, even though the Imperial rooms were off limits that day. They decided to come back the following day when both parts of the tour would be open. I was leaving the next day, so I had no chance of seeing the Imperial rooms on this trip.

For almost 150 years from the 17th to the beginning of the 19th centuries, the Imperial Assembly had held political meetings in this building. But the Imperial history of the town was above, in those lavish rooms that I could not see. I descended into the torture chamber, which helped paint a portrait of the history of the town. I peered down at a dungeon that was three meters deep with no light. A Jewish gravestone served as the toilet seat, another reminder of the rampant anti-Semitism that had riddled the town. Once again, I recalled the 1519 expulsion of the Jews.

An ancient door at the Old Town Hall

An ancient door at the Old Town Hall

I also saw a so-called spiked rabbit, consisting of spikes on a wooden chair. I could not imagine the pain a person would feel seated on those spikes. It was too awful to think about. Some prisoners were locked in a neck iron, exposed to the public in a pillory. I also saw a timber cell without any light.  Prisoners sentenced to death stayed in the Dead Man’s Cell, where there was light and fresh air. An opening allowed family members to touch the incarcerated’s hands before the execution. A big beam balance from the 16th century kept the merchants honest. If merchants cheated customers, they went to the pillory.

The instruments had been used from 1530 to 1781, during three centuries. It was difficult for me to imagine that such horrific methods had been used for such a long time. Then again, in in today’s world there is waterboarding. When the accused was detained, he or she might have heard a concert taking place in one of the Imperial rooms above, but the prisoners were never tortured to musical accompaniment.  

The Romanesque portal at St. James' Church

The Romanesque portal at St. James’ Church

I walked around town for the rest of the day, the history of the town seeping into my soul. The next morning I had a little time before I headed to the train station. I was disappointed that I did not have a chance to visit any of the museums, especially the Historic Museum that told the tales of the town from as far back as Roman times.

First I walked to the Church of St. James, which was built by Scottish monks in 1150. The church still retained its Romanesque style. The entrance portal was pure Romanesque, richly decorated with sculptural figures and grotesque symbols. The architectural gem was encased in glass, so there was a physical barrier between the viewer and the object. I could understand the need to protect such an ancient treasure, but the glass barrier restricted the visual communication with the viewer. I gaped at the entrance portal for about a half hour. The interior was austere but beautiful.

Next, I headed for Dachauplatz, trying to find the remnants of the Roman wall as they were marked on my map. A small section of the wall that did not even come up to my knees disappeared into a parking garage. Modernization had destroyed some of the historical roots of the town, replacing significant reminders of the past with an eyesore common in the contemporary world. I was very disappointed that a car park had been built in the historical center of the town, marring the cityscape. I had read that in the past a monastery had been on the premises.

The decoration on the Romanesque portal

The decoration on the Romanesque portal

As I had made my way to Dachauplatz, I had taken note of all the various architectural styles of the buildings and the artwork adorning the facades. Standing on the square, facing the Historic Museum, I tried to imagine what it would have been like to have been present in 1945, near the end of the war. Residents had taken part in a demonstration, eager for the Americans to take over the city. Some protestors were executed in that same square.

Soon it was time to take the train back to Prague. I yearned to visit the town again and to get to know Bavaria even better. On the train a pleasant surprise awaited me. I began chatting with the woman seated across from me, an American world traveler in her sixties on her way to Prague. It turned out that she also loved reading mysteries and adored cats. As we discussed many topics, I realized that the best thing about traveling is the people you meet on the way to your destination. We would keep in touch, for sure.

I returned to Prague, elated, ready to face the long winter ahead with energy and enthusiasm and ready to plan a spring trip back to Bavaria.

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

 

Another look at the Romanesque portal of St. James' Church

Another look at the Romanesque portal of St. James’ Church

Kutná Hora Diary

A view of the town

A view of the town

I had visited to the medieval, former mining town of Kutná Hora back in 1992. I recalled exploring the mines, touring the awe-inspiring cathedral and gazing at the Italian Court.  I could not forget my visit to the creepy ossuary with shapes made out of human bones. Still, it had been a long time ago. So, in 2012, I decided to return to this special place that for some reason I had not made time for during so many years.

 I sharpened my knowledge of the town’s history during the one and a half hour bus ride on that perfect, sunny morning. Kutná Hora gained recognition thanks to its silver mines from the 13th to 15th centuries. At one time, the town’s mine in was the deepest in the world. There was an international demand for its silver, which was exported to one-third of Europe. During Kutná Hora’s golden days of the Middle Ages, the Prague Groschen, a significant currency in Europe, was produced here. Even after the turbulent years during the Hussite Wars in the 15th century and during the Thirty Years’ War of the 17th century, mining in Kutná Hora preserved. The mine was not even shut down from World War II to 1991.

Plague Column in Kutná Hora

Plague Column in Kutná Hora

I came to the downtown area and soon found myself at the plague column where impressive statues twisted and turned. Then I headed for Saint Barbara’s Cathedral, passing the art museum in the former Jesuit College that hailed from the 18th century. Unfortunately, I did not have time to peruse the art collection during that excursion, but I promised myself to make another trip there in the near future. Too many other sights awaited me on that day. I admired 12 statues of saints, forged from 1650 to 1716, on the way to the impressive cathedral.

A statue on the way to St. Barbara's Cathedral

A statue on the way to St. Barbara’s Cathedral

I could not help noticing the cathedral’s outer buttresses. The gargoyles and monsters on the neo-Gothic façade were imposing, defending their holy site from evil. (By the way, I love Neo-Gothic!) I had familiarized myself with the history of Saint Barbara’s. Its past had much to do with mining. The cathedral was even named after the miners’ patron saint, Barbara. Although construction started on the cathedral in 1338, it was not completed until 1905. The building was as I had remembered it  – absolutely stunning. Once again I marveled at the many Baroque works of art, including three Baroque chapels and a magnificent Baroque organ case.

 

St. Barbara's Cathedral

St. Barbara’s Cathedral

I was particularly drawn to the oldest piece in the cathedral, a statue of Our Lady Enthroned, hailing from 1380. Flanked by two angels in mid-flight, the gold-clad Our Lady gripped a golden orb. The stained glass windows did not disappoint, either. They were exquisite, dating from the end of the 19th century and the beginning of the 20th century. I spotted the cathedral in the background of two of the windows. I also noticed soldiers on horses raising their swords.

KHsvBarb10Then I came to the unique late Gothic frescoes focusing on the mining profession. I had not seen art with a mining theme anywhere else. In the Mint Chapel frescoes from the 15th century depicted miners making Prague Groschens, striking the coins with mallets. That made me think of how my favorite painter, Pieter Bruegel the Elder, portrayed people at their trades or in scenes from everyday life. A few weeks earlier I had visited the Kunsthistorisches Museum in Vienna, where I had feasted my eyes on 12 canvases by the masterful Bruegel the Elder.

 “The Battle between Carnival and Lent” came to mind. In this depiction celebrating humanity and peasant life, the artist set the scene at a market and church squares. Mass had just ended, and the churchgoers carried their chairs out of the holy building.  Crippled people begged for money in front of the church. A corpulent man dressed in pink and yellow stockings was playing a guitar and wearing what looked like a ceramic pot on his head. Bruegel the Elder’s “Seasons of the Year” cycle was another of my favorites. It focused on activities in the countryside. I thought of the depiction of winter, “Hunters in the Snow,” and the hunters in the scene that visually and poetically described man’s relationship to the last season of the year.

The main altar in the cathedral

The main altar in the cathedral

“Peasant Wedding” also showed the lower class at their trades. A servant was filling mugs with beer, for example. Rich in tradition, it depicted the bride without the groom, seated at the table with her head crowned in a small wreath. A child tried the creamy porridge, licking the bowl. Everyday people were engrossed in what were for them everyday activities, some profession-related, others focusing on leisure. The portrayal of the common man as a miner minting coins was, in my mind, connected to the Flemish and Dutch canvases celebrating everyday life. A statue of a miner appeared in the cathedral as well, which made the relationship with Dutch and Flemish works of art even more apparent.

The exquisite stained glass windows in the cathedral

The exquisite stained glass windows in the cathedral

In another Chapel the Smíšek family huddled around an altar. Saint Christopher carried a child on his shoulders in one large fresco. Then I meandered to the other side of the cathedral, where I saw a mural with a different theme:  Created in 1746, “The Vision of Saint Ignatius Wounded in the Battle of Pamplona” showed off angels fluttering through pink clouds. I was also entranced by the stone pulpit, built in 1560. The 17th century ornate wooden pews caught my eye, too.

Hrádek, a museum about the town, mining and silver

Hrádek, a museum about the town, mining and silver

After exploring the interior of the cathedral, I was hungry. I stopped for chicken on a skewer at a restaurant with outdoor seating in a courtyard on Ruthardka, a romantic and picturesque street cutting through the center of town. After lunch I stopped by Hrádek or The Small Castle and was eager to see the museum about the town as well as the history of mining and silver in Kutná Hora’s past. The entranceway was full of  teenage tourists enthusiastically chatting to each other. I did not want to visit the mines again – I was too claustrophobic – so I asked for the short tour. The man at the box office said he did not think there would be a short tour that day, but maybe he would have one around four p.m., when I had to be back in Prague. I was disappointed as I had read that the former royal residence was decorated with a Renaissance coffered ceiling from 1493 and consisted of halls featuring late Gothic ribbed vaulting. The medieval Saint Václav Chapel boasted wall paintings of Czech saints, I had read.  This museum would have to wait until another time.

I carried on to the Stone House, which harkened back to the era before the Hussite period of the 15th century, though it was last reconstructed at the turn of the 20th century. I was fascinated by its richly decorated Gothic façade, even though it dealt with the grim theme of death. I spotted Adam and Eve under a tree in the gable.

The Stone House

The Stone House

First, steep stairs led me down into the lapidary in the basement, which was part of the pre-Hussite structure. The collection boasted stone fragments from medieval times. I was especially enthralled by the pieces of the outer buttresses of the Cathedral of Saint Barbara, especially with the stone set in a fleur-de-lis pattern. I also saw pinnacles, finials and crockets. The angels that had originally decorated the cathedral entranced me, too.

Then one of the guides, a cheerful woman in her forties, gave me a tour of the first and second floors. Part of the first floor was devoted to objects representing the city’s former guilds throughout the centuries. This I what I liked about small museums. They often contained pleasant surprises.  I had never seen an exhibition dealing with guilds. One artifact looked like a griffin sticking his tongue out. Two lions and a crown represented another guild. The symbols of the guilds were intriguing.

A closeup of the Gothic facade of The Stone House

A closeup of the Gothic facade of The Stone House

In the hallway stood a painted wardrobe and chest with folk themes. I loved folk art, so rich in tradition. Another space featured Baroque and Biedermeier furniture as well as a forte piano from the 19th century. The Baroque desk and wardrobe from the 18th century caught my attention.

On the second floor relics from religious orders greeted me. A New Testament hailed from 1677. I also saw a silver reliquary and pewter altar vase. Especially intriguing was the small, woodcut relief of Madonna and Child from the 19th century. A Pieta scene from the 18th century captivated me as well. My favorite, though, was a sculpture of Saint Mary surrounded by miners. She wore a star-studded golden halo, her hands clasped in prayer. Bruegel the Elder also dealt with everyday people’s relationship to religion. I thought of the canvas featuring Carnival and Lent again.

The Italian Court

The Italian Court

I did not have time to go to the Italian Court that day, but I would come back again soon to visit it. I recalled its royal chapel in Gothic style with Art Nouveau decoration. The Italian Court, hailing from the end of the 13th century, had played a significant role in the town’s history. The Prague Groschen was first minted there. Kings of Bohemia had stayed at the Italian Court, and Vladislav of Jagollen had been voted King of Bohemia there during 1471.

A chandelier made out of human bones

A chandelier made out of human bones

I knew that the 12-sided stone fountain was under reconstruction, so  I headed for the suburb of Sedlec , where there was an ossuary and cathedral. A 20-minute walk took me to the ossuary with a cemetery, hailing from the 13th century, the resting place of many plague victims and fallen soldiers from the Hussite wars.

The ossuary in Sedlec

The ossuary in Sedlec

The ossuary in the All Saints’ Chapel went back to the 14th century.  I remembered the space being bizarre and morbid yet fascinating at the same time. The Schwarzenberg clan had purchased the ossuary in 1784. They arranged the 40,000 bones and skulls into various shapes. Before that, architect Jan Santini Blažej-Aichel had renovated the space in his unique Baroque Gothic style, which I deeply admired. I gazed at the bones forming a huge chandelier, a Gothic tower and a chalice.

 

The Schwarzenberg coat-of-arms

Another decoration in the ossuary

I was enamored with the Schwarzenberg coat-of-arms. Bones depicted a severed Turk’s head and a raven. The chandelier was my favorite, though. I also gazed in wonder at the skulls from soldiers during the Hussite wars of the 1420s in one display case. I could hardly believe that I was looking at skulls that were so many centuries old, skulls that had once been heads of living human beings.

A chalice made out of human bones

A chalice made out of human bones

Last but not least I visited the oldest cathedral in the country. The Cathedral of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary and Saint John the Baptist has been a UNESCO site since 1995. It was constructed from 1282 to 1320 and got a makeover in Baroque Gothic style by the brilliant Santini Blažej-Aichel.

The cathedral flaunts Baroque artworks

The cathedral flaunts Baroque artworks

I was astounded by the seven chapels and the renderings of saints. I was very excited to see three paintings by my favorite Czech Baroque painter, Petr Brandl, whose works evoked such strong emotions in me.

An impressive chapel

An impressive chapel

I admired the Baroque confession booths, hailing from 1730. Saint Vincent’s and Saint Felix’s relics, donated by Pope Benedict XIV in 1742 on the 600th anniversary of the monastery, were also fascinating. The Chapel of the Virgin Mary of Sedlec was impressive with its elaborate Ionic columns and plump putti with angels. The statues originally on the west front of the building intrigued me, too. My favorite was a haloed Saint Benedict gripping an open book. I thought of how literature had opened up new worlds for me, especially the Slovak writings of Václav Pankovčín and his penchant for magic realism.

Once again, Kutná Hora had cast a magical spell on me. I had strolled down medieval streets, toured two cathedrals, visited an ossuary and a museum- all delightful  and inspiring experiences. Now it was time to catch the bus back to Prague. One thing was for certain:  I would definitely be coming back here. Soon.

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

A picturesque street in Kutná Hora

A picturesque street in Kutná Hora

Žleby Chateau Diary

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Miraculously, I made the train connection in Čáslav with four minutes to spare and not long afterwards found my way from the train station in the village of Žleby to the chateau. To say Žleby is majestic and romantic is a vast understatement. The chateau looks as if it has emerged from a fairy tale. I inspected the fountain in front of the chateau. It dates from 1860 and shows a member of the Auersberg family, who owned the chateau for over 200 years, grappling with a bison. As I bought my ticket, I was a bit disappointed, though. A 90-minute tour was available, but a third tour did not open until May. So, I would miss the chateau theatre and lower floor library, unfortunately. (I saw these during my 2020 visit by car.)

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While I waited for the tour to begin on that freezing April morning, I familiarized myself with the history of the chateau as described in a booklet I had purchased. Žleby was first mentioned in writing during 1289. The Lichtemburks owned Žleby until 1356, when Holy Roman Emperor Charles IV gave it to Markvart from Vartenberk. During the Hussite wars, the castle was razed, sharing the same fate as many other places in Bohemia during that bloody era. Then Jiří from Dubé and Vizmburk restored the castle in Late Gothic style. It was changed into a four-winged Renaissance chateau with an arcaded courtyard at the end of the 16th century and the beginning of the 17th century under another owner. During the first part of the 18th century, Baroque renovations began.

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In 1746, while the Schönfelds owned the chateau, their daughter Kateřina married Jan Adam from Auersperg. When Kateřina died, the Auersberg line took over ownership of the chateau, and the family would retain Žleby for 200 years. Baroque restorations continued, and the Auersbergs also designed Rococo interiors. Some years later, owner Vincenc Karel Auersberg and his wife Princess Vilemína Colloredo-Mansfield would become responsible for many changes that gave the place a romantic makeover as they were influenced by English architecture from the first half of the 19th century.

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Thus, from the 1840s Žleby took on a more romantic air. The Auersberg couple wanted to give the chateau more of a Gothic character and added a prison and bastions. They fitted the interior with leather wallpaper, wood furnishings, weapons and historic furniture, all of which can be seen in the chateau today. In 1849 Vincenc bought land for the future park. In 1942 the chateau changed hands, and after the war it was nationalized.

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The chapel was first on the list. Upon entering the tiny, quaint two-floor chapel, the narrow, high and oblong stained glass windows behind the altar of the Annunciation of the Virgin Mary caught my attention. The windows bewitched me with their dynamic, bright colors. I then studied the main altar and was drawn to the bright red of an angel’s cloak. The chapel was the youngest part of the chateau, in 19th century Neo-Gothic style, the guide – probably a university student – explained. It dated from 1853 to 1858. Still, there were a few items that went back farther than the 19th century. For instance, a side altar hailed from the 15th century. The triptych showed the Virgin Mary with a sculptural grouping of a Pieta in the middle of two statues. I noticed the trickles of blood on Jesus’ crossed hands. The oldest item in the entire chateau was here – a 15th century richly engraved baptismal font. Statues of saints were positioned high on the side walls of the chapel. I spotted the flapping drapery of Saint Elizabeth.

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Then we left the interior and walked through the courtyard with its breathtaking Renaissance arcades to another entrance. The inside hallway was dominated by a 16th century knight in armor on the model of a horse cloaked in red. The guide said that the knight weighed 40 kilograms, the horse 20 kilograms. On the walls were very wide moose antlers. I also noticed slits for eyes in some helmets, the shoulder boards and the neck guards of armor, a two-handed sword and a rapier.

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As we made our way up the Renaissance stairway, the young man leading our group pointed out that the chateau had the second most weapons after Konopiště, a popular chateau located about an hour from Prague. Indeed, on the walls leading up to the next floor I saw many weapons. Ancient rifles covered one wall, and in another place I spotted a white ivory horn with detailed engravings, once used by Polish King Jan III. Sobiesky, who liberated Vienna from a Turkish threat in 1683.

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We entered the Knights’ Hall, which was decorated with 14 knights’ armors from the 16th century, hunting trophies, pistols and swords –  one with red and green gem decoration in the hilt caught my eye –  as well as 188 painted glass pictures covering one wall. These glass paintings hailed from 1503 to 1749 and were decorated with allegorical figures, biblical scenes and coats-of-arms. I spotted the coat-of-arms of the Auersberg family above the doors. Three paintings from the beginning of the 16th century showed tournament and banqueting scenes. The ceiling featured stucco designs. An intarsia-designed credence was a delight, too.

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We went through the Emperor’s Room with its white swirls and flowers on brown wallpaper and dark brown table with white swirl decoration on the top. Then we moved on to the bedroom, where a brilliantly colored triptych from the 15th century entranced me. The gold and red colors complemented each other. A huge Baroque bed featured columns and a canopy. On the white tiled stove I saw scenes in nature. I noticed the sea, cliffs and a castle in the landscapes. A black and gold jewel chest was riveting as was an intarsia brown table. The golden wallpaper made an everlasting impression on me. Made with leather, it showed flowers with greenery and golden grapes. Little did I know that even more fascinating leather wallpaper awaited me in other rooms.

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The Prince’s Study was next on the agenda. The velvet leather wallpaper, colored dark blue and decorated with flowers, also heated the room. An intarsia closet was exquisite. In the Travel Room, silverware was packed in a box that fit into a portable chest that could be lugged around during journeys. The bed itself was enthralling – it could be packed up, appearing as a closet with intarsia design. A travel toilet in a box resembled a crate.

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The Rococo Salon was dominated by a tapestry featuring fountains, trees, apples, peacocks and well-dressed women taking a stroll through the idyllic scenery. Again, the wallpaper amazed me. This time it was decorated with flowers and birds. The leather wallpaper in this chateau brought to mind that fascinating leather wallpaper at Šternberk Castle in central Moravia.

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Soon we came to the Small Men’s Study with its daiquiri tiled stove that boasted coat-of-arms – just one of many tiled stoves that would bewitch me with its beauty. The leather wallpaper above the desk consisted of royal blue and brown swirls. I also peered at ancient books with delicate, brown and gold bindings.

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From there we entered the representative rooms. In the hallway the chairs had carved, wooden figures in their backs, and the bench also had a finely carved back displaying coats-of-arms. In the Thirty Years’ War Room the walls were covered in Late Gothic carved wood paneling with swirls cut into the wood. Elegant, dark chairs complemented ivory rifles and swords as well as helmets. There were two secret doors in the room – one led to a dry toilet and the other to the downstairs library.

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The upper floor library consisted of 6,000 books and 6,000 engravings. The big books had beautiful spines. Smaller books were set on shelves high on the walls. The Gallery enthralled as well. Engravings made up one display case. Paintings on the walls included those with animal scenes and a delicate still life of fruit. The leather wallpaper came from 72 deer. The walls were decorated with wood paneling featuring the geometric motif of the Auersberg “A”. There was also a Renaissance dagger that caught my attention. The coronation sword of Emperor Ferdinand I was compelling, too. A Baroque ebony bureau was made of ivory and tortoiseshell.

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The Red Room, though, had the most enticing wallpaper, with its gold and red ornamentation. A painting on the ceiling showed fluttering cherubs.  The Late Renaissance tiled stove from the 16th and 17th century featured Old Testament scenes in the upper part and New Testament scenes in the lower section. The green and brown colors made it attractive as well. The door with intarsia dated from the Renaissance, from 1573 to be exact, and used to be part of the Jihlava town hall. Above me was a beautiful, coffered ceiling.

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The Tyrol Room boasted a Baroque tiled stove from the Tyrol region that was just as captivating as the one in the Red Room. The brown stove showed scenes from mythology in white relief. The swirling, white columns on the stove were complemented by the swirling, pine wood columns in the wood paneling hailing from the Tyrol. A wooden Rococo sleigh for children looked precious. A Delft fajan vase was exquisite, and on the walls were impressive fajan plates.

The stunning Blue Salon was decorated with the biggest tiled stove in the chateau, a blue, white and mustard yellow piece hailing from Bavaria and featuring grape harvest scenes from that region. A rare black desk was complemented by gemstones. A Spanish-Moorish bureau from the 17th century graced the room as well. A  Baroque ebony cabinet hailed from 17th century Germany. The walls in the lower half of the space were decorated with light wood panels while the upper part included blue and gold leather wallpaper. I looked up at the wood, coffered ceiling. It was astounding.

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The Knights’ Dining Room did not disappoint, either. The biggest space in the chateau included an intarsia closet and rare hand-painted goblets with colorful figures. Swords and hunting trophies covered the walls. Another bureau in the room was decorated with an ivory engraving of a man on a horse, spearing a boar.

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Blue-and-white porcelain dominated the space where meals were prepared, and rare rose porcelain from Slavkov in Moravia was exhibited in the kitchen itself with its huge, astounding brickwork. Blue-and-white English porcelain was displayed on a table. A unique, 19th century, cylindrical grill stood out. The kitchen smelled like a bakery. Chateau employees in historic dress were baking bread. A boiling house and smoke house were attached, too. The stove dated from the 19th century.

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After the 10 of us on the tour sampled some homemade Easter bread, the eloquent and enthusiastic guide said goodbye. I took a few more photos of the romantic, fairy tale façade with elegant gate before heading to the park. Then I walked down the street to a pub for a fattening, yet tasty, lunch of beef and dumplings. From the pub window I gazed at the chateau. I felt as if I was a trance. I was so drawn to the chateau. I knew that soon I would have to wake up from my trance and get on the train to Čáslav, where I would switch to a Prague-bound train. Looking out the window at the chateau, I decided that I had had a great day. I just wished that more tourists would visit the chateau that was located only 18 kilometers from Kutná Hora, a major attraction.

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

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Manětín Chateau Diary

 

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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.

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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.

ImageThat 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 18th 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 19th century. An 18th 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 18th 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 18th 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 18th 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 19th 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 20th 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.

 

Lysice Chateau Diary

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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.

ImageThe guide filled me in on the history of the chateau and its owners. Its history may go back as far as the 13th century, and there was a fortress at Lysice in the 15th century. It became an early Renaissance water fortress in the 16th 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 18th century. At this time a grotto had been created in the park along with allegorical figures representing the months of the year.

ImageWhen 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.

ImageThe interior of the chateau underwent much reconstruction in the 19th century under Emanuel’s guidance. In the 1830s the elegant colonnade was built in the park. Disaster struck at the beginning of the 20th 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 19th 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.

ImageThe 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.

ImageThe 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 17th 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 19th 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.

ImageI 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.

ImageThe 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 14th century and had been found near Lysice.

ImageThe 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.

ImageThen 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 19th 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.

ImageThe Small Shooting Gallery contained 13 hand-painted shooting targets, the oldest ones hailing from the 18th 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. 

ImageIn 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 20th 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.

ImageThen 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 19th 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.

ImageThe romantic upper terrace hailed from the 19th century. Decorating a wall niche was a Madonna statue. I also discovered a grotto that hailed from the 18th 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.

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

Buchlovice Chateau Diary

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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.

ImageAfter 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 18th 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.

ImageBuchlovice was the seat of a significant meeting in European history at the beginning of the 20th 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.

ImageAs 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 17th 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.

ImageThe 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.

ImageThe 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 16th to 19th centuries with 6,378 artworks. These renditions were situated in the depository, which was not part of the tour.

ImageNow it was time to explore the English style garden, created at the beginning of the 18th 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.

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

Buchlov Castle Diary

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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 17th and 18th 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 20th century and into the 21st century.

ImageAn intriguing legend is associated with the linden tree situated in front of the Dancing Hall, home to 18th 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 16th 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 17th 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.

ImageOn 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 17th 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 18th and 19th 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 14th 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 15th century. It always astonished me that artifacts from the 14th or 15th century could survive to the present day.  It fascinated me how they were tangible connections with the distant past.

ImageThe 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 16th 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.

ImageThen 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 19th 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.

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Nové Hrady near Litomyšl Chateau Diary

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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 12th century. After the Hussite Wars in the 15th century, a Gothic castle called “Nový Hrad” or “New Castle” was erected there. In the 16th 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.

ImageBack 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.

ImageI 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.

ImageNext 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.

ImageThen 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 18th 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.

ImageThe next room was set up in the Biedermeier style, from the first half of the 19th 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 20th century.

ImageAfter 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.Image

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

Velké Meziříčí Chateau Diary

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The direct bus from Prague to Velké Meziříčí – believe it or not – arrived early: It got in at 8:45 instead of the scheduled 8:55, and on a weekday, too. Almost two hours from Prague, the south Moravian town is on the bus routes to Jihlava and Brno.

Dating back to the 1330s, the chateau boasts some intriguing legends and is connected with some significant historical events. According to one legend, a week before the 1723 fire that ravaged the town and chateau, at noon the chateau clock tolled 102 times instead of 12 times. A week later 102 buildings had incurred damage from the fire, including the town hall. Another legend concerns one of the former owners of the chateau – Duchess Marie Eleanora from Guastalla and Sabionetta. After dying tragically in a horse riding accident, she began to haunt the chateau as its so-called “White Lady.”

Historical events also took place here.  In August of 1415, chateau owner Lacek of Kravaře ushered Moravian nobility to the chateau, trying to convince them to sign a protest against the incarceration of legendary Czech priest, philosopher and reformer, Jan Hus, who had been accused of heresy against the Catholic Church.

The chateau went through several renovations. It was Jan the Younger from Meziříčí who changed it from a Roman Gothic castle to a Renaissance chateau in the 16th century. Later, in 1733, Baroque elements were added. Owner Rudolf Lobkowicz gave the chateau a Neo-Gothic flair.

ImageOther former owners made their mark in the chateau’s history as well. For example, Marie Eleanora Liechtensteinová also served as Lady of the Bedchamber for Holy Roman Empress and Sovereign of Bohemia Maria Theresa of Austria. She became a close friend of the Empress’ daughter, French Queen and Navarre Queen Marie Antoinette, who also was the Archduchess of Austria. During the 18th century French Revolution, Marie Antoinette gave her good friend her exquisite, wooden desk. The chateau also obtained Empress Maria Theresa’s unique, black glass funereal necklace, which she had worn after her husband, František Štěpán Lotrinský, died. I was enamored with both items in the former Dancing Hall.

Former owners Rudolf Lobkowicz and František Harrach were world travelers, bringing back souvenirs from Asia, for example. These are displayed in the Oriental Salon. Some objects from Japan that caught my attention included a black and gold wardrobe, a jewelry box for traveling and a red chest. I also saw silk-topped paintings. The picture of a pagoda was exquisite. A precious Baroque table was decorated with a picture of the town.

Known as a collector, traveler, poet, press editor and economist, Harrach was also an aide to Archduke Ferdinand Karl Joseph of Austria-Este, better known as Archduke Ferdinand d’Este. In September of 1909, Harrach hosted d’Este plus Emperor of Austria and King of Bohemia Franz Joseph I and German Emperor and Prussian King Wilhelm II as well as other historical figures during military field maneuvers. The bedroom where Emperor Franz Joseph I slept was one of the many highlights of the tour. I marveled at the ornate wooden décor of the bed frame and gazed at Emperor Franz Joseph’s portrait hanging nearby.

But perhaps Harrach is better known for his participation in one particular historical event. When Archduke Ferdinand d’Este was assassinated in Sarajevo on June 28, 1914, Harrach was sitting next to him but escaped injury. Harrach swabbed blood from Ferdinand’s fatal wound with his handkerchief, and at the chateau I saw the blood on a white background in a black frame marked with the date and year of the tragedy. That was the most impressive feature of the Serbian Salon, which also was home to many photos of Archduke Ferdinand d´Este and Emperor Franz Joseph I.

When Harrach died, his daughter Josefa inherited the chateau, but she was forced to emigrate in 1948, after the February Communist coup. The chateau was nationalized and served various functions in the 20th century – it has been and still is a museum; it also has served as a state archive and a maternity hospital. In 1995 the chateau was returned to the family. Now Josefa’s three sons look after it.

ImageOther items that particularly impressed me were the life-size portraits of nobles on the landing. I felt as if the portraits could swallow me up. Three coats-of-arms with Baroque golden frames also enriched the landing. The Men’s Salon featured an exquisite brown tapestry of leaves, fruit and branches as well as a jewel box made of tortoise shell and silver. A unique stand for cigars also decorated the room. The chandelier was unique as well – it was made out of deer antlers and brass.

The former Dancing Hall held more treasures than Marie Antoinette’s desk and Maria Theresa’s necklace. I also saw Rococo furniture and a Baroque black closet decorated with ivory. The Rococo Dining Room was light and airy and used for concerts. The frescoes on the walls showed Czech streams, bridges and cottages, a sort of idyllic country life. Another fresco portrayed the chateau in Baroque style and still another depicted a town celebration. I gaped at the Venetian chandelier. It had diamond-shaped glass pieces. I loved Venetian chandeliers!

Then I came to the museum section of the chateau. I was impressed that the museum hosted a very eclectic collection of items. With displays ranging from Cubist furniture to town life during the last 600 years, every room held a different surprise.

In the hallway there was an intriguing sculpture exhibition by Velké Meziříčí native Jiří Marek, who lived from 1914 to 1993. His large wooden figures twisted in agony. I could almost feel the pain portrayed in the sculptures. The pain was almost tangible. In one sculpture Marek had created a limp hand so realistically. His figures reminded me somewhat of those created by legendary Czech sculptors Frantisek Bílek and Franta Uprka.

ImageIn the Velké Mezíříčí town exposition the uniform top of the Pioneers Communist youth organization from the 1980s got my undivided attention.  In a display case was a light blue shirt with a red scarf that I have come to associate so well with the Pioneers’ organization. Because I hadn’t experienced Communism, the uniform shirt captivated me. I wondered if the parents of the child who had worn these clothes had actually believed in Communist ideology or if they had dressed their child this way out of fear.

The exposition also showed what kind of clothes townspeople wore during the 19th century and what sort of furniture could have been found in their homes. Tapestries depicting scenes from town life hung on the walls.

Soon I came to the Cubist rooms – a Cubist living room in one space and a bedroom of that style in another. The Cubist furniture was designed by well-known architect Pavel Janák and the famous Artěl group in Prague for a prominent Czech mathematician and physicist. Janák’s box with a top, its black stripes on white almost hypnotizing me, was in one display case. What impressed me the most was the Cubist couch. The back was composed of three triangular shapes, the middle one at a different angle than the outer two.

ImageThen I made my way to the Jewish synagogue, which was strongly advertised on the town’s Web pages. (Later I found out the advertised synagogue was a different one, which is now used as an exhibition space.) The red brick façade was beautiful, but the inside was a disappointment. Vietnamese sold their goods in the interior, as row upon row of cheap clothing littered the spaces. I saw a straw hat with the words The Czech Republic written on the brim and packs of underwear as well as backpacks hanging from a wall. I had expected that this synagogue would be a sort of museum open to the public, possibly with tours and information about Jewish life in the town. I soon left the synagogue and continued toward the main square.

On the main square there was a quaint church, an impressive town hall and stunning sgraffito on the façade of several buildings. I ate lunch – turkey in some gross-looking but thankfully tasteless sauce – in a garden restaurant where the service was slow.

Then I headed back to the bus station to get the one o’clock back to Prague. I was the only person at the stop, which made me wonder if I was standing in the right place. I became nervous. When the bus didn’t show up by 1:10 pm, I was worried. It did come, though, at 1:20 pm, and soon I was on my way home, with fond memories of the chateau’s representative rooms and the diverse displays of its museum.Image

 

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