Mělník Chateau Diary

March 26, 2014 by Tracy's Travels

The Renaissance arcades of Mělník Chateau

This was my second visit to Mělník Chateau, located less than an hour from Prague by bus. I was enthusiastic about getting reacquainted with the interior that I had so admired during my first time here. Back then, there had been no guided tours. Visitors were given a text to read while they walked through the chateau’s rooms. This time I would have a tour, so I was excited about seeing the chateau from a new perspective.
I knew a bit about the history of the chateau already, and what I did not remember I perused in a booklet that I had bought at the box office, which also served as the souvenir shop. Mělník’s history is closely connected with Czech legends. Supposedly, Princess Ludmila often resided in the town while raising her grandson, Wenceslas (Václav), who would later become a well-respected duke of Bohemia and after his death the patron saint of the country. The original wooden structure was changed into a stone castle during the 10th century. Spouses of Bohemian princes owned the castle, which got a Gothic makeover in the second half of the 13th century.
The castle became home to Bohemian queens during Holy Roman Emperor Charles IV’s reign. Emperor Charles IV, who was responsible for building Prague’s New Town, the Charles Bridge and Charles University, supported winemaking in Mělník and the surrounding areas. He even imported burgundy grapes. Queen Elisabeth Přemyslid, the last wife of Emperor Charles IV, resided in the castle for a lengthy period and died there. She was responsible for building the chapel. The Přemyslid dynasty had ruled Bohemia from the 9th century to 1306.
The castle was given Late Gothic features in the late 15th century. During the following century, it was changed into a Renaissance chateau. The reconstruction was finished during the 17th century. While the castle became decrepit during the Thirty Years’ War of the 17th century, it was soon repaired.

One wall of Mělník Chateau

Then, in 1753, one of the most significant events in the chateau’s history occurred. Marie Ludmila Countess Czernin wed August Anton Eusebius Lobkowicz. The castle would remain in the Lobkowicz family until 1948, when it was nationalized after the Communist coup that instigated 40 years of totalitarianism in Czechoslovakia.
I envied the fact that the Lobkowiczs had played such prominent roles in Czech history. In the early 15th century Nicolas was given the village of Lobkovice nad Labem by King Wenceslas IV, and he took the name of the village. George Popel Lobkowicz of Vysoký Chlumec held the post of the highest chamberlain of Emperor Rudolph II. Zdeněk Vojtěch became the highest chancellor of the Bohemian Kingdom. His son, Wenceslas Eusebius, served as the highest chamberlain in the kingdom and as president of the secret services during the 17th century.
In the following century John George Christian was made a prince due to his military achievements. Anton Isidor was one of the founders of what is now Prague’s National Gallery. George Christian served as supreme marshal of the Bohemian Kingdom and was a member of the Bohemian Parliament during the 19th century.
But there would be dark, turbulent times for the Lobkowicz clan. During World War II the Nazis took over the chateau. The family took refuge in Prague. Then came 1948 and the Communist coup. The Lobkowiczs fled the country, and the chateau was put in the hands of the state. The present owner of the chateau, George John Prince Lobkowicz, moved to the homeland of his ancestors from Switzerland in 1990. He has been owner of the chateau since 1992 and currently resides there.
I also envied the fact that the Lobkowiczs could trace their ancestry so far back. I knew that my Slovak ancestors had been potato farmers in east Slovakia. I even met a few very distant relatives about 10 years ago, but, unfortunately, they do not keep in touch with me anymore. On the Czech side of the family, I know that my great-grandparents were from somewhere near Prague or from Prague itself. They had a common surname – Šimánek. I also know that I had ancestors from somewhere in Moravia, with the popular Czech surname Mareš.
I moved to Czechoslovakia in 1991 partially because I felt a strong association with the country of my roots and intuitively felt that it was a part of my personal identity. If only I knew more about my ancestors, and if only they had played such prominent roles in Czech history as had the Lobkowiczs! Yet, at the same time, I was not sure that I wanted to know more about my ancestors. I had visited the village in east Slovakia where my great aunt had come from, and I was going to look for an inhabitant with the same – not common – last name as my great aunt’s maiden name. But I decided not to because I was scared. While I wanted to meet long lost relatives, I was also scared of finding them. Scared they might not like me or that I might not like them. What if they had been Communists? What if they were mean people? What if they hated Americans or wanted money from me because they thought all Americans were rich?

The elegant Renaissance arcades

I studied the impressive exterior of the chateau. I loved the elegance of the Renaissance arcades with decorations on the walls. A sundial also adorned the façade. There was sgraffito, too, which I adored. The other wing was built later, in the 17th century, in Baroque style. After admiring the Renaissance arcades for a while, I noticed that it was time for the tour to start and I entered the souvenir shop, ready for what I was sure would be an impressive walk through the ages of Mělník’s top sight.
The guide, a serious and well-dressed woman, described some of the background of the chateau and Lobkowicz family, and it was clear that she was very professional and knowledgeable. The first room was called the Bedroom of George Christian, named after a Lobkowicz who died tragically at the age of 25 in a racing car accident in 1932. I was reminded how we have to treasure each moment in our lives and see the beauty in daily life because we never knew when our time will be up.
I was captivated by a Baroque closet flaunting intarsia. The painted decoration high on the walls showed plant leaves with vases in green and brown. The colors seemed to go well with the 17th century Baroque furniture. On the headboard of the Baroque bed was a painting of a Madonna that appealed to me. I also took note of the richly carved wood of the bed. Portraits of the Lobkowicz family adorned the room, too, and one of the paintings had been executed by master Czech Baroque artist Karel Škréta.
August Longin’s Study was named after a Lobkowicz who had befriended Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, a visitor of Mělník. The room featured two exquisite French desks – one hailing from the 17th century and the other from the 18th century. The older one was inlaid with tortoiseshell, plated brass and tin in ebony wood, made in the Boulle style. The 18th century desk, celebrating the Rococo style, was made of gilded bronze and plated brass. I particularly admired the gold decoration on the younger desk, the one that had been stolen during the totalitarian era. It had wound up in an office at the Ministry of Culture.
However, that was not all the room had to offer. An 18th century table with mother-of-pearl hailed from Japan and had designs of fans on its top. There was also a portable 18th century toilet near the room. Small portraits of Habsburg rulers hung on one wall. I spotted Holy Roman Emperor Joseph II and Empress Maria Theresa right away.

The sundial on the facade

The next room was the Children’s Room with toys from the 19th century, including dolls and a puzzle. Porcelain in a cabinet hailed from Hungary. The 18th century bed in the room was short, but it was standard size for adults at that time. People slept sitting up because they were afraid they would die if they lay down. I admired the rich, wooden carving of the bed and the Madonna on the headboard.
The Big Dining Room featured two Baroque bureaus from the 17th century. They were inlaid with tortoiseshell and adorned with gilded decorations. Some of the pictures painted on them focused on seascapes with ships. The chairs were upholstered with tapestries. The guide pointed out two valuable 17th century lunettes by Škréta; they were part of the story of the life and death of Saint Wenceslas, who, according to legend, had resided in Mělník when he was a child. Other breathtaking paintings rounded out the room’s décor.
The Grand Drawing Room featured 18th century furniture. I noticed two 18th century Rococo tables with gilded brass angels decorating the legs. Portraits of the prominent politician George Christian and his wife Anna were rendered by Czech painter František Ženíšek, who had also decorated the National Theatre. More astounding works of art adorned the walls, some portraits of the Lobkowicz family, others biblical paintings and still others sporting themes from antiquity. I spotted Helen of Troy in one rendition.
I was drawn to the white furniture and pale green walls. It looked airy and light and exuded an atmosphere filled with joy. Chinese and faience porcelain as well as ceramic vases from Asia made up the room, too.

Another view of the sundial

The hallway was adorned with a bust of Parliament member George Christian. It had been created by Josef Václav Myslbek, a master of modern sculpture working in the 19th and early 20th century. Engravings featuring carriages decorated one wall, too. I was drawn to other works of art – the pictures of romantic 18th century Prague, especially to Old Town Square, my favorite part of the capital city. I remember the first time I stepped onto Old Town Square. I felt an unexpected electricity, a strong connection with the city and country. I was only a tourist at the time, but at that moment I knew I had to return to live in the homeland of my ancestors.
Perhaps the most astounding room was the Big Hall with Maps and Vedutas that came next. The maps and vedutas hailed from the 17th century. I noticed maps of Italy, France and the Netherlands. Then there were all the big vedutas of European towns on the walls. It was so breathtaking that it was almost overwhelming. The veduta of Prague featured only one bridge, the Charles Bridge, without any statuary decoration. Strasbourg, Nuremburg, Regensburg, Venice, Florence, Seville, Madrid and Brussels were just a few of the other cities represented. The detail of the maps and vedutas was more than impressive. Most of them were made in Amsterdam.
Perhaps I was so drawn to this room because I loved maps so much. I used to buy maps of Czech towns I had never been to and wondered what each building and each street looked like as I took a an imaginary walk through the town. Two large maps decorated my living room – one of the Czech Republic and another of Slovakia, as I treasured memories of Czechoslovakia. I often traced the routes from Prague to various chateaus and impressive towns and thought about my adventures there.
On the map of Slovakia I found Špišský Castle, below which some very distant ancestors were buried, and traced paths to Poprad, Kežmarok and Bratislava. I found Morské Oko in the Vihorlat, near my great aunt’s home village, and traced the path to Košice and Michalovice, where I had heard that some of my other ancestors had hailed from. I found more places I had visited – Humenné, Levoča and Trenčín, for example, and recalled moments of happiness and discovery.
Back to the tour. The Knights’ Hall featured 16th century suits of armor on the walls. An 18th century oak table also caught my attention. In the Small Hall with Vedutas, various weapons from the 17th to 19th century were displayed. However, what really caught my attention where the black-and-white vedutas of European cities during the early 18th century. I was entranced by the vedutas of Prague and Brno. Some military equipment on display came from 17th century Turkey. I also admired the richly carved Chinese furniture. I have always been an admirer of wooden Chinese furniture.
The vast Concert Hall was still used for concerts, balls and other events. It was situated in the Baroque wing of the chateau, but the construction of this part had not been finished until 2005. There was an original 16th century wall with sgraffito decorations that delighted me. I’ve always been a big fan of sgraffito! The opposite wall was a copy made in this century, but, faithful to the original plan, it complemented the authentic side. I looked up and saw a painted coffered ceiling. Vedutas of Versailles and its park from the 17th century adorned another wall. Drawn to these works of art, I thought back to my visit to Versailles, during a warm February afternoon and how impressed I had been with the vast French chateau.
Then we went downstairs, passing by colored lithographs of Prague sights from 1792 and 1793. We wound up on the first floor in the lavish Grand Dining Room. Exquisite Baroque paintings adorned the walls. I loved the gold-and-white decoration on the pink-colored ceiling. The silverware hailed from the 18th century, and the guide pointed out Viennese porcelain as well as white Sèvres porcelain. The highlights of the room, though, were two paintings. One was another lunette from the cycle of Saint Wenceslas by Škréta. There was also a spectacular painting called “Christ with Veronica” by Paolo Veronese. It portrayed Christ on the cross with a self-portrait of the painter as the carrier of the cross.

The town hall on the main square

The chapel was last. It hailed from the 14th century, built by Queen Elisabeth, the fourth wife of Emperor Charles IV, and was originally dedicated to Saint Louis. During the Thirty Years’ War, the chapel was so badly damaged that it had to be rebuilt, and this time it was consecrated to Saint Ludmila. A painting of Saint Ludmila’s baptism adorned the main altar. Impressive paintings dotted the chapel. Two portraits – of Saint Andrew and Saint Bartholomew – by my favorite Czech Baroque artist, Petr Brandl decorated the space. There was even a painting of an apostle, created by Peter Paul Rubens.
Then the tour ended, and I was thankful that I had been led through the chateau by such a professional guide who had given such detailed information about each room. I was very impressed with her knowledge and enthusiasm. I knew how disappointing tours could be if the guides were not good, though most of my experiences with tour guides in this country has been positive. It was much better to have a tour guide than to be given a text and walk through the chateau by yourself, I mused. The guide helped bring the chateau alive. Her words gave life to the chateau that had played roles in Czech history and legends.
I think it was possible to tour the wine cellars as well, but I do drink much alcohol and am not very interested in wine. However, there are three floors of historical wine cellars below the chateau: Emperor Charles IV had them built. The Lobkowiczs have a family tradition of presenting a new-born with a new wine barrel. The barrel would be filled a year before the young Lobkowicz turned 18. It was remarkable that wine had played such a prevalent role in the family history.
Winetasting tours were available, and if I had liked alcohol, I would have been enthusiastic about taking one of these trips to the cellars with original, wooden barrels.
Instead of sampling wine, I ate a delicious meal in the chateau’s restaurant, though they did not offer my beloved chicken with peaches and cheese. Still, I was pleased with the food and the service.

The picturesque houses on the main square

I walked around the town and noticed the impressive Renaissance and Baroque houses on the large main square, especially the town hall, which hailed from the late 14th century. Next to the chateau was the Gothic Church of Saints Peter and Paul. Unfortunately, it was closed, but the ossuary was open. I found out that the next tour of the ossuary would not start until after my bus left for Prague. What a pity. I knew I would have to come back someday, to tour the chateau again and to visit this ossuary that I had not known about before this trip.

The Gothic Church of Saints Peter and Paul

Soon I walked through the decorated gate from 1500 and made my way to the bus station. I immediately caught a bus bound for Prague. When I disembarked at the Holešovice bus station in Prague 7, I was truly happy. I had had another positive experience at another impressive Czech chateau. My day had been filled with making new discoveries and gathering new perspectives on the Lobkowicz family history, the history of the chateau and my own personal history.

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

The gate dates back to 1500.

In 2022 I visited Mělník again, this time with a friend who was seeing it for the first time. The chateau was awe-inspiring, and I could tell that my friend was very impressed. We took a few moments to take in the views from the chateau. The panorama was riveting.

I was in luck because the Church of Saints Peter and Paul was open. It was Gothic in structure with some Romanesque elements. The altars and pulpit were Baroque, though. In the 16th century, well-renowned architect Benedikt Reid was responsible for reconstructing the church. He had designed part of Prague Castle to much acclaim. I was very impressed with the church. It was a pleasant surprise.

Even though the food and parking downtown were expensive, the trip was enlightening. It was another day well spent.

Kačina Chateau Diary

March 13, 2014 by Tracy's Travels

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 19^th century Empire style chateau in the Czech lands – boasts not only representative rooms in 19^th century Empire, Biedermeier and Classicist styles but also a 19^th 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 19^th 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 19^th 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 20^th 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 18^th century. Jan Rudolf was a man of many achievements. He built the magnificent park in Veltrusy and Kačina chateau in the 19^th 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 19^th 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 19^th 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 19^th 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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Mníšek pod Brdy Chateau Diary

December 31, 2013 by Tracy's Travels

I took a bus from Prague’s Smíchov train station to Mníšek pod Brdy, where the chateau was close to the main square. The ride lasted only a half hour. It was my second time here. During my first visit in 2004, only one tour had been available. Then, in 2011, the chateau began offering two routes. I was eager to see what awaited me on the new tour.

Because I had already been here, I knew the basic history. The castle was first mentioned in 1348. Jan Vratislav from Mitrovic became its owner during 1487, and Mníšek pod Brdy stayed in his family for 168 years. During the Mitrovic era the castle was turned into a Renaissance chateau. However, the history of Mníšek pod Brdy Chateau was not all rosy. The chateau was almost destroyed in 1639 during the Thirty Years’ War.

Luckily, when Servác Engel from Engelsfluss purchased it in 1655, he transformed the ruins into a Baroque masterpiece. Several other clans claimed ownership before the Kasts took over. Because Baron Kast had collaborated with the Nazis during World War II, the chateau was put in the hands of the state during 1945. Once utilized as an archive for the Ministry of the Interior, Mníšek pod Brdy Chateau was taken over by the Ministry of Culture in 2000. It was reconstructed in 2001 and opened to the public a few years later.

Even the entranceway did not disappoint. The knight’s armor on the wall hailed from the Thirty Years’ War. A Baroque closet, designed with intarsia, was charming. Portraits of family members who owned the castle during the 19^th century also adorned the space.

The moment I set my eyes on the knights’ armor, I thought of my first visit here, with Pavel, whose job involved restoring artifacts in castles and chateaus in central Bohemia. He had proudly pointed out that he had repaired that suit of armor, and he had been the one who told me about this chateau in the first place. We had met at Frýdlant v Čechách Castle and Chateau a month earlier. He had explained that he had a girlfriend, but she did not really like visiting castles. So he often traveled alone. I was alone as well. I appreciated his friendship. Then he had showed me around Kutná Hora, his hometown. The next time we saw each other, we came here. We were captivated by the chateau and then had lunch in a pizzeria in Prague.

The Winter Dining Room was first on the itinerary. I admired a closet that hailed from the second half of the 17^th century. The impressive ceiling painting also dated from that period. There were three sculptures in the chapel. An angel in a dramatic pose stood out on black, swirling columns. I was drawn to the landscape paintings on a wall in the Dining Room. I loved landscape paintings and how they depicted nature’s moods. Some works portrayed the land as idyllic while others emphasized that nature could be intimidating and even cruel. I also admired a jewel chest with intarsia. On one wall colorful plates with Oriental motifs dated from the 18^th century. The chantry in front of the chapel was the work of legendary Czech artist Karel Škréta.

The Big Dining Room was only used for special occasions. Four huge paintings represented earth, water, air and fire, according to the enthusiastic guide with a contagious smile and strong voice. In the allegory of the earth, the man dominating the picture wielded an axe, looking quite intimidating. The white tiled stove shaped as a pyramid exuded the Classicist style. The bottom part of a closet was false, hiding a stairway. Holy Roman Emperor Charles VI made an appearance, too, in a painting depicting a moment in front of the Czech court, shortly after his coronation during 1722. Candlesticks sported designs of swirls and green leaves. I loved the details in objects found in castles and chateaus. The decoration on the candlesticks was just one example of those details that made the object unique and intriguing.

The Servery, where food was prepared, included a closet made in Baroque style at the beginning of the 20^th century. Flowers and birds dominated wall paintings. The delicate porcelain on the table was created in Vienna during the first half of the 19^th century. There was also an 18^th century depiction of a big, white rooster with a colored face and brilliant feathers. The striking colors of the feathers caught my attention. This certainly was a piece that stood out. I had never seen a rooster portrayed this way. The wall flaunted a floral pattern on a tan background with the delicate flowers appearing in pink and blue hues.

The Great Salon was next. The furniture hailed from the first half of the 19^th century. A picture above the door showed Mníšek and its surroundings with a church. The symbols of hunting were very pronounced: A bear, sword, horn and rifle, among others, adorned the landscape. Across the space, on the wall above the entrance to the clock tower, more scenery of Mníšek was portrayed, this time accompanied by medical symbols such as a mask, an arrow and birds. Above the door leading to the following room, I could see what Mníšek Chateau looked like at the beginning of the 20^th century.

In the clock tower to one side of the space, there were four grandfather clocks. The one with red, black and brown decoration attracted me the most. The red complemented the black and brown colors and gave the clock a certain vibrancy. In the next room a jewel chest from 18^th century Japan was captivating, designed with pictures of the countryside and birds. I marveled at the exquisitely painted drawers.

The stucco ceiling of the Smoking Salon had original plastic ornamentation from the 18^th century. A pelican was one dominant figure. I do not think I had ever seen a pelican on a stucco ceiling of a chateau. I loved the surprises this chateau offered, first the rooster with the brilliant feathers and now a depiction of a pelican. I loved tours that held surprises for me. The dark crimson color of the walls was also appealing. A card table with indentations for money hailed from the first half of the 18^th century. A still functional bright red gramophone dated from 1890.

Then we entered the Ladies’ Salon. The paintings on the wall were framed in Secession style. The décor on the walls showed putti as well as people relaxing in the countryside alongside red and green flowers. Meissen porcelain went back to the 18^th century. A toiletry table intrigued me. If you turned up the central part, there was a mirror. Set down, it became a desk.

The library, with 2,000 books, hailed from the Kast family’s era in the chateau. The volumes were in English, French and German. The decoration on the ceiling captivated me. One section showed Venus’ engagement and the other portrayed Venus and Mars, accompanied by fluttering angels, with their son Eros. I loved how mythology was often represented in castle and chateau decorations. Greek and Roman mythology had intrigued me ever since I took a course on that subject at university. All the different attributes for the gods, the captivating stories and their morals – they fascinated me. A unique bell was also in the room. It was shaped like a round, pudgy woman.

We had a 20-minute break before the second tour. I wondered if Pavel had already been on the second route. He probably had, I mused. I thought back to our conversation in the pizzeria in Prague after we had seen this chateau. He told me that he had broken up with his girlfriend, and he had time to visit me every weekend in Prague.

I had valued our friendship, but I did not want to date him. He was much younger than I was and a bit naïve about the world. I stressed that I was only looking for a friend, not a boyfriend, and he was suddenly quiet as he picked at his lasagna.

How many times had a man I was interested in told me that he just wanted to be friends? Or how many times did a man I like express no interest in me at all? It happened to me all the time, and it was painful. But I could not lie to Pavel because I cared about his feelings.

After some minutes, he smiled – a forced smile – and began talking about a chateau near Brno where he planned to go some time the following month. He did not invite me to go with him. I was so lost in thought that I did not hear the guide announce the beginning of the second tour. I was one of the last people to enter the first room.

The second route featured the private apartments of Theodorich Kast and his wife. Framed embroideries complemented small, family photos. I wondered if his family life had been complicated as were my relationships. The family photos had an idyllic quality about them. It looked like Kast had a happy family, free of worries or tension.

The guide showed us one intriguing invention. A doll with a wide dress could be placed over a kettle to keep the water hot. This was another pleasant surprise for me. I had never seen such an object before. Yes, Mníšek pod Brdy was full of surprises. I noticed that the woman dressed in blue in one portrait closely resembled legendary 19^th century Czech writer Božena Němcová with her fragile, round face. Like Němcová she wore a sad but resilient expression and had sorrowful eyes and straight, black hair. I had read Němcová’s The Grandmother several times and had seen the play by Brno’s Divadlo Husa na provázku and film versions as well.

The following room belonged to the husband Theodorich. A jumble of black-and-white photos decorated the walls. The old telephone had no numbers, only a receiver. A heart with a black outline was carved into the headboard of the wooden bed. This was another example of a detail that captured my attention. The heart decoration made the bed unique and exquisite.

The next room showed off photos and paintings of horses. I had never been enthusiastic about horses. I was afraid of them. I would never ride a horse because I would be too scared that I would fall off or be thrown off. I thought of a friend whose teenage daughter had been thrown from a horse and had died, only 15 years old. Yet I knew many people were enthusiastic about the sport and did not get injured. I focused on the tour again. Two small cases resembled hat boxes, but they weren’t. Instead, they were meant to be used on picnics. One hid a jug that could be kept warm while the other was really a chemical toilet.

The Children’s Room was decorated in white. Three dolls from the beginning of the 20^th century sat on a children’s sofa. Two glass parrots that look like owls served as electric lamps above the desk. In a doll house I was drawn to the colorful decorative lamp shades. A model of a school could be seen in one corner of the room. Inside, I noticed wooden benches, a podium, a blackboard and pictures of animals on a miniature wall. I recalled how simple life had seemed when I had been a grade school student and how complex it had become when I had reached adulthood. Sometimes I longed for those simple days when the world was black-and-white, everything was good or evil. There were no gray areas to confuse or upset me.

The next room was meant for a mother and a small baby. I noticed another tea doll. Exquisite clothes for an infant were displayed on the crib. An 18^th century Venetian mirror also made an appearance. I admired the simple gold design on the headboard of the bed as well as the gold decoration on a closet.

The Ladies’ Bathroom included not only a flushing toilet, bidet and narrow tub, but also a selection of women’s and children’s shoes. The purple women’s footwear stood out. I remembered my outing to the extraordinary shoe museum in Zlín in Moravia a few years back. I had never realized that footwear could be so fascinating. Hat boxes took up space on the highest shelf.

We left the rooms after passing by graphics in the hallway. Once again, I was charmed by the chateau with its modest, though extremely appealing, décor. Mníšek pod Brdy had a romantic flair. No object in the chateau really stood out from the others. All the artifacts complemented each other to give a breathtaking impression. I loved the small details on the artifacts. Mníšek pod Brdy Chateau was a place I would love to visit once a year, I decided.

It was a sunny, summer day. The weather was perfect. I was happy. I was even happy to be here alone. Part of me missed Pavel’s presence, but I realized that it had to have played out the way it did. At some point during the second tour, I had stopped wishing Pavel and I could have gone on being just friends and had accepted what was. It was fate. Suddenly, for a short time, life seemed simple. As simple as the life represented by the dollhouse and model of the school in the Children’s Room. If only life could always be this simple! I headed to the nearby main square, where I ate my favorite chicken with peaches and cheese before catching a bus back to Prague. Yes, I was happy.

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

Dobříš diary

October 17, 2013 by Tracy's Travels

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Return Trip to Dobříš Chateau in 2024

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

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

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

Photos from other spaces in the interior

From the park

The orangery with wall painting

The orangery main gate

Illusionary wall painting on the orangery

More illusionary wall painting on the orangery

Holy Mountain (Svatá Hora) Diary

October 6, 2013 by Tracy's Travels

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Buchlov Castle Diary

August 20, 2013 by Tracy's Travels

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Velké Meziříčí Chateau Diary

August 8, 2013 by Tracy's Travels

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 16^th century. Later, in 1733, Baroque elements were added. Owner Rudolf Lobkowicz gave the chateau a Neo-Gothic flair.

Other 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 18^th 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 20^th 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.

Other 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.

In 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 19^th 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.

Then 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.

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

Zlatá Koruna Monastery

July 26, 2013 by Tracy's Travels

I traveled by a very comfortable train to the monastery of Zlatá Koruna (“The Golden Crown”) one summer morning. When I got off the train, I almost panicked. I was in the middle of nowhere. Soon, though, I got my bearings, found the village and made my way to my destination. The monastery is situated only six kilometers from the historical, romantic town of Český Krumlov, in a picturesque setting next to the Vltava River.

The monastery of Zlatá Koruna was founded by King Otakar II of the Přemyslid dynasty in 1263 for the Cistercian Order. Legend has it that King Otakar II promised to establish a monastery and dedicate it to the Virgin Mary if he won the Battle of Kressenbrunn in 1260. Though burned down by the Hussites during the Hussite Wars in 1420, the monastery was reconstructed in the 17^th and 18^th centuries. Zlatá Koruna suffered again, though, when, at the end of the 18^th century and the beginning of the 19^th century, it housed various factories.

It looks nothing like a factory now, I thought to myself as the tour of the three-aisled basilica, big and small convent buildings and chapel began.

The elaborate Rococo stucco décor and exquisite Rococo wall paintings throughout the monastery astounded me. I was impressed by the refectory, the former monastery dining room, which housed three early Baroque frescoes dating from 1685. The painting at the door of the refectory showed prophet Habakkuk with an angel. The middle fresco took up the Holy Trinity theme. Another fresco was devoted to Hagar with his son Ishmael and an angel. The entranceway to the refectory was decorated by a huge canvas that told the story of Josef in Egypt.

The Chapel of Guardian Angels was the oldest preserved part of this monastery, dating back to the late 13^th century and, I soon realized, a gem of early Gothic architecture in the Czech lands. In 1763 painter František Prokyš adorned it with beautiful Rococo frescoes.

The Chapter Hall, built in 13^th century Gothic style, featured Rococo paintings depicting religious allegories. In the Cruciform Passage area of the Big Convent, my eyes were drawn to the rich Rococo stucco decoration and stunning frescoes by Lukáš Plank. These works illustrated scenes from the history of the Cistercian Order, the guide told our group.

The Church of the Annunciation of the Virgin Mary was also dominated by stucco ornamentation. The main altar dated from the late 18^th century and was adorned with sculptures by Jakub Eberle. I did not miss the High Gothic rose window in the transept, either.

Other sights that enthralled me included the epitaph of Přemysl Otakar II. An empty coffin was opened by the God Saturn, Pallas Athena standing at his side. Designed circa 1772 by Jakub Eberle, the epitaph showed off a black coffin surrounded by rich sculptural ornamentation and dynamic, twisting figures as well as white and gold decoration.

During the 1700s the monastery served as a school for children, and part of the tour highlighted teaching aids in the form of small pictures depicting significant personalities from Czech history. Other pictorial learning tools included pictures of a carpenter’s workshop and a blacksmith’s workshop, for instance. An exhibition about literature in southern Bohemia rounded out the tour. A Czech literature enthusiast, I was enthralled with the displays.

Afterwards, I took a walk across the bridge to the other side of the Vltava and relaxed on the embankment. I thought about many things – happy and sad moments, failures and successes – as I gazed at the monastery from the opposite embankment. It was a sunny summer day, the perfect weather for traveling. I watched many people canoe down the gentle river. Before long, though, it was time to get lunch and then head for the small shack that served as a train station. While waiting for my train back to Prague, I stared at the monastery in the distance. Then I boarded the train, and the monastery disappeared from sight.

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

Plasy Monastery Diary

July 25, 2013 by Tracy's Travels

NOTE: I added photos of the interior from my third visit.

I have been to Plasy twice, both times changing trains in Plzeň (Pilsen). It is only 45 minutes from the home of pilsner beer. The exterior of the building did not impress me, but when I got inside, I was in for a treat.

First, a bit about the history of the monastery: Founded in the 12^th century by Prince Vladislav II, Plasy was burned down by the Hussites, followers of the martyr and preacher Jan Hus, in 1421 during the Hussite Wars, which pitted radical Hussites against the more moderate ones teamed up with the Holy Roman Empire, Royalists, Hungary and The Pope. (The Radical Hussites lost, and Holy Roman Emperor Sigismund put on the Bohemian crown.) In the 18^th century architects J.B. Mathey, Jan Blažej Santini-Aichel and Kilian Ignác Dientzenhofer (the younger of the two Dientzenhofers, who hailed from Bavaria but worked in Bohemia during the 18^th century) gave it a High Baroque appearance.

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Things took a turn for the worst, though, when Holy Roman Emperor Joseph II closed down the monastery in 1785. Austro-Hungarian Empire chancellor, diplomat and politician Klement Václav Lothar Metternich bought it in the early 1800s, and his family tomb is located in the Church of Saint Václav (Wenceslas) across the street from the monastery, Plasy is also associated with one particular composer: famous Czech Bedřich Smetana spent a week here. He was not the only Czech personality to set foot in Plasy, though: Czech King Václav I (Wenceslas I) also stayed here on several occasions.

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At the beginning of the tour, I walked along the 61-meter long Cloister Hallway, boasting eight ceiling frescoes by Jakub Antonín Pink. One tripartite fresco depicted the Virgin Mary offering food to monks while another showed the Virgin Mary helping monks work in the fields. I noticed the modern art on the walls of the hallway: All the paintings shared the theme of Saint Jan Nepomucký (whom English speakers might better know as John Nepomuk). The works of modern art seemed out of place, though.

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My group continued to the Chapel of Saint Bernard. Surprisingly, there was no furniture in this room. That was because Metternich sold all of it during his tenure there. Stunning, though, was the high wall painting of Saint Bernard, painted by premiere Czech Baroque artist Petr Brandl, whose works I greatly admired. Saint Bernard was leaning on a rock in a forest as angels flocked above. The ceiling fresco depicted Jesus Christ and the 14 disciples.

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The Chapter Hall, measuring 27 meters in height, was designed by famous architect Kilian Ignác Dientzenhofer. This was where new monks used to be accepted, and where monks had cast their votes for new abbots. I glanced up at the ceiling and was impressed with what I saw – a fresco of the Virgin Mary and a gathering of monks. The tour guide told us to bang our fists on one of the wooden benches: The echo would last more than nine seconds, she claimed. She was right.

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One step into the first part of the library and I wondered where the books were: In the second part there were indeed three tall bookcases, though one was almost empty. There was a reason for this, the guide explained: Metternich had changed the library into a smoking room and theatre. The first section, the former smoking room, featured a ceiling fresco. What did it depict? Hard to tell. All the smoke that had lingered in the air had turned the fresco black. In the other area Metternich had installed a seating area and stage, but I saw a Secession bureau, the three tall bookcases and a ceiling fresco depicting an allegory concerning medicine, philosophy and theology.

The former circular Reading Room was intriguing, too. It was home to eight larger-than-life canvases by Pink. These 18^th century Baroque paintings all dealt with themes about eating and drinking, taken from the Old Testament.

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When I walked into Winter Dining Room, I noticed that there were no tables or chairs. Instead, I saw an impressive sculptural grouping of Saint Luitgarda standing in the otherwise empty space. Created by legendary Czech sculptor Matyáš Bernard Braun, its original could be seen on Prague’s Charles Bridge. On the far right-hand side, I peeked into a small window of the monastery prison, where monks were sent if they came late for prayer, for instance.

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I also viewed two foundation water basins set there because the monastery was so close to the Střela River. These were part of the elaborate water pressure system designed by Czech architect Santini-Aichel, who, in order to give the monastery a firm foundation, constructed the convent on 5,100 oak piles and also created a system of connecting channels as a sort of defense against flooding. He specifically used oak wood because oak hardens in water. It fascinated me that Santini also came up with a unique hydrological system for the monastery.

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I didn’t miss the Baroque toilets, which were composed of circular holes in wooden benches. I looked down through the toilet seat and saw water below. On the way to the Hospital Wing, our group stopped at a self-supporting, winding staircase designed by Santini-Aichel, who I knew for his unique Baroque-Gothic style in a church at Sedlec, near Kutná Hora. I stretched my neck to glimpse the ceiling fresco of Archangel Michael fighting a dragon.

Then we moved to the Hospital Wing, where the pharmacy exhibitions were situated. First, I came across the Baroque pharmacy: I noticed the hand-made, exquisitely painted pictures on the drawers. My eyes were especially drawn to the drawer marked “opium.” It was the only one with a lock on it, the guide said.

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The Classicist pharmacy featured a white theme: wooden shelves were stocked with white jars, and the glass jars had white labels. All the labels on the drawers were white as well. Before reaching the Secession pharmacy, I stopped in the small hospital chapel. The Virgin Mary and 14 saintly helpers stared down at me from the ceiling. The Secession pharmacy flaunted many decorations of flowers and plants on the walls and cabinets. A chandelier impressed me, too. I liked the glass jars with white labels and the red and green fancy trim.

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Then our group left the main building of the monastery, crossed the street, passed the bust of Smetana in the small park and entered the Church of Saint Václav (Wenceslas), where Metternich’s family tomb was located. Originally a Gothic church, it had been reconstructed in Baroque style. Richard Metternich, Klement V. L. Metternich’s son, was the last of the family to be buried in the tomb, during 1938. Several abbots were also buried here.

After the remarkable tour I went to a restaurant nearby and had my usual, chicken with peaches and cheese. Then it was time to return to Prague, so I set off for the small train station. The numerous works of Baroque art had been stunning. Two paintings by master Karel Škréta, a creation by Esther I. Raab and six more canvases by Jan Kryštof Liška also helped to represent the rich Baroque art in the monastery. I better appreciated the differences among the three artistic styles by visiting the pharmacies. The Baroque ceiling and wall frescoes were unforgettable.

Rychnov nad Kněžnou Diary

July 20, 2013 by Tracy's Travels

My journey started at 6:30 a.m. on a bus from a Metro station on the other side of Prague, about an hour from my home. We arrived in the east Bohemian town of Hradec Králové, where I was to change buses, on time at 7:45. Then I had to wait. But for how long? The information on the Internet stated that the bus to Rychnov nad Kněžnou would leave at 10 a.m., but the woman at the information desk in Hradec Králové confirmed that the time of my next departure was 9:30 a.m.

It took another hour and a half to get to Rychnov nad Kněžnou, situated in the foothills of the Orlické (Eagle) Mountains northeast of Prague, near the Polish border. While it was a sunny day in Prague, in the mountainous terrain it was much cooler, though still pleasant. The bus station was only minutes away from the chateau, so I didn’t have to worry about getting lost on my way back to the 15:05 bus to Hradec Králové. (Actually, I did get lost. I was about two streets away from the bus station on my attempt to return there. I always seem to get lost!)

I had already visited Rychnov once, about 10 years earlier. While the chateau may not have outdone those nearby in Častolovice and Opočno, it certainly ranked right up there. The chateau had an intriguing past. The town had been home to a castle or fortress as early as 1258, but it became a ruin, and a church was built over it in the late 16^th century. This chateau was built between 1670 and 1690, under the guidance of František Karel Kolowrat. The well-known noble Kolowrat family had purchased the estate during the Thirty Years’ War in 1640, and their descendants even live in the chateau today. (It was returned to the family in 1992.) The residence underwent a Baroque transformation between 1713 and 1727. The architect of what was once the riding hall was the well-renowned Gothic Baroque master Jan Blažej Santini Aichel. In the late 16^th century a bell tower had been constructed in the town. It was the third biggest in Bohemia, weighing almost seven tons.

As I approached the chateau, I noticed the column with the Virgin Mary, dating from 1692 to 1694. Soon I was one of three people on the 60-minute tour. The first thing I saw was the coat-of-arms of an eagle on the hallway floor. Above the red and silver eagle was the word “faithfully;” below it, the word “always.” I paid special attention to the crown above the eagle; Emperor Charles IV gave the Kolowrat family the crown on their coat-of-arms after one member of the family had saved the ruler’s life during an assassination attempt in Pisa, Italy.

My favorite room was the picture gallery. The chateau boasted more than 300 paintings on display and furniture from as far back as the 17^th century. The picture gallery’s collection of about 400 paintings consisted mostly of portraits of the Kolowrat family members, still lifes and hunting scenes by Dutch and Italian masters, and there were also landscapes. Some works took up religious themes as well. The dark-haired, tall man who was giving the tour mentioned that at one time, the collection held 1,218 paintings. This gallery also traced the development of the nobility in portraiture from the 16^th to the 19^th century. The biggest delight for me was the masterpiece by legendary Czech artist Karel Škréta – his portrait of Ignác Vitanoský of Vlčkovice. However, not only paintings abounded in the chateau; decorated ceramic stoves were situated in each room, dating from the 17^th to 20^th century.

Other paintings of note included “Esther before Ahasuerus” from the South Netherlandish School of the 16^th century. I noticed the luxury of the palace, where the scene took place. In the background, through an open door, I could see greenish-blue mountains and a winding stairway leading up to a mysterious building. What intrigued me the most, though, were the loud, red stockings of Ahasuerus.

In one room a large painting showed the execution of noblemen on Prague’s Old Town Square during 1621, after the Protestant Bohemian States lost to the Holy Roman Empire, Spain and the Catholic League in the Battle of White Mountain during November of 1620. Edison light bulbs were featured in a chandelier decorating another space.

One of my favorite artifacts was a painting of a winter landscape with figures on the ice in a quaint village scene. Several people rode a sleigh, and another was falling down. It reminded me of the wintry creations by my favorite Dutch master, Pieter Brueghel the Elder.

The Škréta portrait was certainly a highlight of the tour. Ignác Vitanovský of Vlčkovice had a gentle yet determined look in his eyes as he gazed at the viewer. I also saw Baroque furniture employing a green and tan leaf motif. In one space a pink and white Venetian chandelier greeted me. The guide pointed out that there was an engraving in the middle of one bureau. It showed Boleslav murdering his brother, the future Czech patron saint Václav (Wenceslas), in Stará Boleslav on September 28, 935.

Then we came to the Knights’ Hall with life-size portraits of members of the Kolowrat family. The chapel was quaint with its ceiling fresco and altar featuring a very pensive Saint Mary of the Snow. Another room was filled with various fans of different colors, some of them made of silk. The guide explained how fans had been used to set up meetings or ask someone out on a date. For example, a gesture with a fan could tell a man if the woman was single or married. A Buddha also decorated that room. The head and hands could move, and it stuck out its tongue at the viewer.

In the Dining Room I saw Viennese, Empire style, Meissen and other styles of porcelain. What interested me the most were the paintings of dead animals on the walls. It seemed to be inappropriate décor for a place where people ate. Looking at those paintings during dinner would certainly ruin my appetite.

The tour was over too soon. Then I went to lunch on the main square, where I had my favorite chicken with peaches and cheese. I also checked out the Holy Trinity Church, erected on the site of what was once a castle or fortress. The church was closed, but I did see an intriguing fresco on one wall.

There was even more to see at the chateau. The Hladík Gallery featured statues of former Prague professor of the arts Karel Hladík, who lived from 1912 to 1967 and hailed from the Rychnov area. I was impressed. His busts, torsos, decorated totem pole-like sculptures and figures in agony spoke to me as they relayed strong emotions. I felt as if I really knew the people whose busts I saw, as if I almost could understand them. Another intriguing work was his portrait of a gaunt Franz Kafka.

The upstairs portion of the Orlická Gallery awaited me. There I saw the landscapes by Jan Trampota. These were landscapes in bright pastels, mostly of scenes in the Orlické Mountains. One of Trampota’s works showed the beautiful countryside with gentle hills and lush trees. The terrain was sprinkled with a few cottages. This watercolor “At the End of Summer” was executed during 1928-29 in soothing pastels and greens and browns, and was my favorite of his paintings on display. In another room landscape paintings by one of my favorite Czech artists, Antonín Hudeček, were hung. I wanted to take Hudeček’s field of pink flowers home.

There were many rooms in the gallery, all boasting intriguing paintings, plus a temporary photography exhibition. By the time I got through the gallery, it was time to hurry back to the station to get the bus back to Hradec Králové. I did get lost during what should have been a five-minute trek, but I still made it in time.

On the bus I noticed a sign stating that passengers must fasten their seat belts. But I didn’t have a seat belt. In fact, the other seats near me didn’t, either. Both buses coming to Rychnov nad Kněžnou had been equipped with seat belts. Luckily, there was no accident and upon arriving to Hradec Králové, I immediately got on a 16:30 bus to Prague.

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Tracy's Travels

My travels throughout the Czech Republic and beyond

Tag Archives: Prague

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