Kašna se sochou svatého Josefa na Karlově náměstí Fountain

Welcome in the middle of Charles Square, right where the heart of New Town is pulsing. You are standing in front of a monument that at first glance seems modest, almost narrow between huge platinum alleys and flowing traffic, but in its stone body lies the history of one of the most tragic moments of Prague's past. Look ahead. You see the baroque fountain, whose central element is the pestilence column - the dark, binding pestilence pillar that rises from the pool as a silent witness of the time when the memory has not calmed down here for centuries.

Now that you've put your headphones on, try to move the noise of the present. Notice the shape of the column. It's a simple, square pillar of stone, without overdecorating, which carries on top of the statue. It is this statue, the statue of St. Joseph with Jesus in hugs and angels, that attracts the looks and gives this place its artistic weight. It is the work of the hands of Matej Václav Jäckel, a Lužický sculptor, whose mule has gained respect even for the most demanding zakaters in Prague. The statue is made of pestilence, i.e. bronze, and in the sunlight it shines with warm, brown golden tones, which perfectly contradict the colder, grey stone of the pillar and pool.

Let us now return in 1680. Prague didn't know the elegance of today. The streets were narrow, untidy, and the city was dragged into a disease against which there was neither a healing powder nor a prayer to guarantee salvation. The plague-plague spread like a dark cloud. There's talk of approximately 6,000 victims in the background. Six thousand lives in one city in a few months. This was a disaster not only demographic, but also spiritual. People were dying in families, all the streets were dying out, cemeteries couldn't keep up with the dead. Whoever could, ran to the villages who couldn't, stayed waiting for fate.

And just as the epidemic began to withdraw, when fear of narrow streets began to slowly return to normal rhythm, a promise was born in Prague. Citizens, councilmen, the Church - all who survived - felt immense gratitude that the disease had ended. Believers at the time did not seek the causes in bacteria, they sought them in God's will and deserving. And so in 1697, seventeen years after the end of the plague, the idea of building a memorial began to be born. Not as a tomb, but as a prayer of gratitude culminated in stone and all.

Between 1697 and 1698, the statue was created. Matěj Václav Jäckel, a master who could pull life out of the bronze, created a sculpture where St. Joseph holds little Jesus. It's a scene full of tenderness, parental care and protection. The angels around them are not just decorations, they are messengers, guardians, symbols of the heavenly help that Prague prayed for. Notice the details you're seeing right now: how Jäckel caught waves of clothing, how gently lies the child in the father's hands, how angels with ease hang around the column. It is the ultimate piece of the Czech Baroque, dynamic but deeply calm. And it is, as the historical record states, the oldest sculpture to decorate this place. Before her there were other sculptures, other monuments, but this one remained here as the first in line to remind us today of the history of the square.

The year 1698 then brought the completion of the whole fountain. It wasn't just a pillar with a statue. The swimming pool was built into which the water flowed, and the whole was used as a public fountain - a source of water for the surroundings, instead of meeting, but above all a permanent expression of gratitude. The water in the Baroque was a symbol of life, purity, purification. It flowed from the hoses into a stone container, took away dust and anxiety, and people poured water from it into pots for cooking, for drinking, for life. Today, the water in the pool keeps circling, even though no one's drinking anymore. But the sound of dripping and rustling is still the same - music that reminds us that life continues.

Now look closer to the stone pillar. If you look at its surface, you'll see signs of time. Erosion, moss in grooves, maybe even traces of repairs from the last century. The architects of this fountain remained unknown. We don't know who suggested a pool arrangement, who calculated the pressure of the hoses, who chose the type of stone. But we know who put a face to this place. Matěj Václav Jäckel. He was a sculptor from Lusatic, a region that gave the Czech country many talented masters. His work here is not isolated. His hand created statues on the Charles Bridge, in the church of St. Nicholas on the Malá Strana, in many other Prague temples. But this statue of St. Joseph is one of those that stands freely under the open sky, exposed to rain, snow, sun and the looks of thousands of people daily.

An interesting fact that may surprise you: although the fountain looks like an inseparable part of the square, it is not the original position in absolute sense. Charles Square went through massive reconstructions in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. The New Town Hall before which you stand has been rebuilt, the streets have spread, the tram tracks have stretched through the pourting. The fountain was moved, dismantled, stored and reassembled. The fact that it stands here today in the form you see is proof of the care of the monuments and respect for history. In 1998 it was included in the list of cultural monuments of the Czech Republic, which gives it legal protection, but we know that the real protection is that people stop, look up and understand what they see.

You're standing in front of a monument that connects two planes. One level of pain and loss - the 6,000 victims, the empty houses, the grief of mothers and grooms. And the second plane of hope, faith and art beauty. St. Joseph, the protector of families, the patron saint of the dying, who quietly carries the burden of responsibility, seems to be an ideal patron for a place where life and death met in the most worrying form. Jesus in his arms is not only God's son, he is a symbol of the future that is born from the ruins of the past. The angels then whisper that even in the darkest night there is someone who holds his hand over the city.

Now that you have experienced this place not only with your eyes but with your heart, you can look further. Behind your back, you have a massive New Town Hall building with its tower, where once the bells sounded to warn, to rejoice, to sorrow. You have in front of you the square, which was once a market, then a park, today it is a mixed space for walks, sports and meetings. Platanus alleys that give you shade in summer were planted much later, in the nineteenth century, but now they belong inseparably to this place. Their crowns shadow the fountain, protecting it from excessive sun and rain.

Let's take a step further in your imagination. Imagine, in 1698, on the day of the discovery, the people in the Baroquas came here with their clothes on, their feathers and hats on. Princes, townsfolk, craftsmen, women with children in security. All quiet, heads down, praying for the end of the plague. The water in the fountain jumped into stone for the first time, the sound was new, clean, promise of the future. And the statue of St. Joseph in the glow of the sun shone like a new coin, like hope cast in bronze.

Today, centuries later, you can lay your hand on the cool stone of the pool. You will feel the desire of the past, but also the fortress with which this city has always risen. The fountain with the statue of St. Joseph is not just a piece of stone and metal. It's a book opened on a page that says, "We've been here, we've suffered, we've survived, and we've raised the memory so that you who come after us will know that you can overcome even the darkest time."

Thank you for stopping by and listening. Before you leave, take a moment to look at the angels at the foot of the column again. Their faces, even if destroyed by time, still express peace. And then look up to St. Joseph's face. It is expressed by wisdom, patience, silence. It's a face that's seen generations coming and going. You're one of them now. It carries on this history. Let the road guide you safely, whether you're heading towards Vltava, to Vysehrad, or just home to an apartment in the surrounding houses. Good-bye, and may Charles Square always receive you with a calm heart.