To your left rises a dramatic Baroque monument characterized by its undulating white façade, a central dome weathered to a pale green, and twin towers that frame the entrance.
This is the Church of St. Nicholas, but do not let its confident, pious appearance fool you. If buildings could have identity crises, this one would be in therapy. While it looks like a permanent fixture of the square, the structure you see was only completed in 1737. It was designed by Kilian Ignaz Dientzenhofer, the heavy hitter of Prague Baroque architecture, to replace a burned-down Gothic church that had stood here since the 1200s. The Benedictine monks moved in, expecting to stay forever.
They were wrong. Just fifty years later, Emperor Joseph II decided he had too many monasteries and not enough cash. He deconsecrated the church and kicked the monks out. What followed was essentially a massive yard sale. The altars, paintings, and bells were sold off to the highest bidder. Local legend says one of the bells went to a village called Dolany, while a statue ended up guarding a bridge in a town called Přeštice. That poor statue actually fell into the river in the 1980s, which seems to be just the sort of luck associated with this place.
Once the church was stripped, the city bought the empty shell and turned it into a warehouse. During the Napoleonic Wars, instead of incense and prayers, the nave-the soaring central hall of the church-was filled with sacks of grain. It served as a military supply depot, which is a fairly humble comedown for a Dientzenhofer masterpiece.
Its fortunes turned again in 1870 when it was leased to the Russian Orthodox Church. This brings us to the most impressive artifact inside. If you peek in, look for the massive crystal chandelier. It is shaped like an imperial crown and weighs fourteen hundred kilograms-that is roughly the weight of a compact car hanging from the ceiling. It was a gift from the Russian Tsar Nicholas II to the Orthodox congregation here.
History kept moving. We just came from the monument to Jan Hus, and his legacy actually circles back here. In 1920, this building became the birthplace of the Czechoslovak Hussite Church, a modern denomination that broke away from Rome, led by a man named Karel Farský.
Despite the years of abuse and being treated as a storage locker, the artistic soul of the building survived. The ceiling frescoes by Kosmas Damian Asam, depicting the lives of saints and scenes from the Old Testament, are stunning. They were once whitewashed over-perhaps to match the grain sacks-but have since been restored. From a Benedictine jewel to a grain silo, a concert hall, a Russian outpost, and finally a Hussite church, St. Nicholas has proven to be the ultimate shapeshifter of Old Town Square.
St. Nicholas stands as a testament to Prague’s ability to reinvent itself, no matter how many times the furniture gets sold.
Take a moment to admire the curves of the façade, and when you are ready, we will continue our walk.
