Look to your right and locate the intricate medieval structure on the tower wall, defined by two massive circular dials stacked vertically and flanked by dark gothic statues.
You are standing in front of the Prague Orloj, the oldest astronomical clock in the world that is still in operation. It is a masterpiece of medieval engineering that functions as much more than a simple timekeeper. Think of it as a primitive planetarium or a mechanical astrolabe-a complex tool used by astronomers and navigators to calculate the position of the sun, moon, and stars. The oldest parts of this mechanism date back to 1410, created by a clockmaker named Mikuláš of Kadaň and a mathematics professor named Jan Šindel.
Let’s decode that upper dial, the astronomical one. It is designed to show the state of the universe. The background represents the Earth and the sky; the blue center is the Earth itself, the upper blue is the sky above the horizon, and the black area is night. The golden sun arm sweeps across this background to tell you the time in three different ways simultaneously. First, the golden hand points to Roman numerals for our standard local time. Second, the position of the sun on the curved golden lines shows "unequal hours." In the medieval mind, an hour wasn't fixed; it was simply one-twelfth of the daylight, meaning hours stretched longer in summer and shrank in winter. Finally, the outer ring with the gothic numbers marks Old Czech Time, which counts the hours passed since sunset.
It is also a theater of morality. Look at the four figures standing on either side of that upper dial. These represent the anxieties of medieval citizens. On the far left, you have Vanity, a figure admiring himself in a mirror. Next to him is a Miser holding a bag of gold, representing greed. On the far right is a figure representing earthly pleasures. But the most important character is the skeleton standing next to the Miser. That is Death. Every hour, he rings his bell and inverts his hourglass. The other three figures shake their heads side to side, signaling that they are not quite ready to go yet. Above them, two small windows slide open to reveal a procession of the Twelve Apostles peering out at the square.
For centuries, a legend persisted that this clock was built later, in 1490, by a master named Hanuš. The story goes that the city councilors were so possessive of their beautiful clock that they ordered Hanuš to be blinded so he could never recreate his work for another city. In retaliation, the blind master supposedly reached into the gears and destroyed the mechanism, silencing the clock for a hundred years. While it makes for a dramatic tale, historical records corrected this in the 20th century, confirming the original 1410 creation date.
The clock has survived real violence, however. In May 1945, during the Prague Uprising, Nazis fired on this tower from armored vehicles. The wooden sculptures burned, and the calendar dial-the large circle at the bottom-was heavily damaged. It was painstakingly restored, but the drama didn't end there. In 2018, during a major renovation, a painter named Stanislav Jirčík was hired to restore the calendar dial. A local heritage group later noticed that the figures didn't look right. The painter had radically changed the faces, ages, and even genders of the characters, allegedly painting in the likenesses of his own friends as a joke. The deputy mayor called the work "botched" and "banal," a rather harsh review for a piece of public art.
Take a moment to watch the gears and figures if you like. When you are ready, we can continue on to the Old Town Hall just a few steps away.
