Luhačovice

Nestled in the gentle fold of the Vizovice Highlands, Luhačovice presents itself as a study in contrasts: modest population and grand architectural ambition; centuries‑old mineral springs and 21st‑century medical care; tranquil wooded hillsides and the hum of cultural life. With some 5,000 inhabitants, the town and its four municipal parts—Luhačovice proper (4,160), Kladná Žilín (192), Polichno (257) and Řetechov (233)—occupy adjacent valleys and two outlying exclaves carved into the White Carpathians Protected Landscape Area. From its first recorded mention in 1412 to its present status as Moravia’s largest spa centre, Luhačovice has evolved through shifting proprietorships, architectural renaissances and political upheavals, always anchoring itself to the curative promise of its mineral waters.

The name “Luhačovice” likely stems from an early owner named Luhač or from the old Czech luhy, denoting damp meadows. Perched roughly 15 kilometres south of Zlín, the town sits at 250 metres above sea level along the Šťávnice River—also called Luhačovický potok—while the ridges around it climb to nearly 600 metres at Brda in Řetechov and to 672 metres at Komonec further north. These slopes, clad in mixed woodland, contribute both to the town’s microclimate and to its distinctive urban silhouette, where spa pavilions and villas appear woven into the natural folds of valley and hill. To the east, pastoral fields bleed into the strict boundaries of the White Carpathians Protected Landscape Area, hinting at an older pattern of land use and ethnographic ties to Luhačovské Zálesí, the borderland between Moravian Wallachia and Slovakia.

By the late 16th century, Luhačovice had become the seat of an estate encompassing a dozen villages. The aftermath of the Battle of White Mountain saw its transfer to the Liechtensteins, and in 1629 it passed to the Serényi family, who would steward the springs for over three centuries. In the 1670s, Count Ondřej Serényi commissioned channels and stone surrounds for the first spring—later dubbed Amandka in honour of Amand Serényi—and around 1760 oversaw the opening of a second, christened Vincentka. Word of the waters’ therapeutic value spread gradually; by 1789, a simple inn stood ready to receive those seeking relief, and the adjoining chapel dedicated to Saint Elizabeth appeared soon after, anchoring pilgrimage and leisure alike.

As spa tourism gained momentum in Bohemia and beyond, Luhačovice stepped tentatively into the modern era. Yet by century’s end, financial strain threatened both estate and enterprise. A decisive intervention arrived in 1902, when Czech physician František Veselý rallied local investors to form a joint‑stock company. This entity wrested control of the spa from the Serényi proprietors—who nonetheless remained significant shareholders—and set about reimagining Luhačovice as a contemporary Czech health resort. The extension of a railway line connected the town directly to Prague, Brno and Olomouc, ushering in a steady flow of visitors and enabling the transport of Vincentka water for wider distribution.

Central to this renewal was the work of Dušan Jurkovič, the architect whose vision fused folk traditions with the emerging Art Nouveau idiom. Between 1902 and 1914, he transformed the once‑modest Janův House into a signature hotel adorned with frescoes of Saints Cyril and Methodius by Jano Köhler, erected the hydropathic establishment crowned by the Sunshine Spa swimming pool, and fashioned villas—Vlastimila and Valaška—whose steep gables and wooden braces echoed local carpentry. His “chaloupka” and “jestřabí” hotels, bandstand and other spa pavilion designs became prototypes for the town’s expanded urban plan. Although some of Jurkovič’s structures have since vanished, the buildings that remain continue to define Luhačovice’s cohesive yet unruly charm.

The First World War imposed a lull, but with the inauguration of Czechoslovakia in 1918, Luhačovice experienced a resurgence. Through the 1920s and 1930s, population growth and renewed investment propelled the spa’s expansion. Architects such as Bohuslav Fuchs, J. L. Holzl and the Kuba brothers contributed modernist villas and communal facilities. A new swimming pool, community house and town hall emerged, each reflecting an architectural language both progressive and harmonized with the town’s earlier, more romantic edifices. In 1936, Luhačovice received official town status, cementing its regional importance.

The German occupation of 1939–45 curtailed access to the spa for Czech citizens, as Nazi organizations commandeered much of the infrastructure. Liberation in 1945 inaugurated a new building spree: the Great and Small Colonnades rose in the valley, enclosing the Hall of Vincentka and the health centre; these monumental promenades established the architectural axis still central to Luhačovice’s identity. The communist coup of February 1948 brought complete nationalization of the spa industry. Under the Ministry of Health, the town continued to serve as a centre for therapeutic care: in 1957, it joined the official roster of Czechoslovak spa towns, and successive decades saw incremental improvements to both services and environment.

Following the fall of communism, the process of restitution returned sections of the old Serényi estate—including Luhačovice Castle—to Isabella Thienen‑Adlerflycht (née Serényi) in 2017. Today the town remains accessible by the same interregional rail link that transformed its prospects in the early 20th century, as well as by the branch line to Bojkovice. Road networks complement these rail arteries, ensuring that Luhačovice continues to lie within comfortable reach of the Czech urban centres.

Luhačovice’s enduring allure rests on its mineral springs, whose composition is that of a heavily mineralized, naturally effervescent residual seawater. Rich in chlorides, sulfates and trace elements, Vincentka water is bottled on site and prescribed for ailments of the vocal cords and respiratory tract, metabolic disorders, gastric and duodenal ulcers, liver cirrhosis, diabetes mellitus, chronic pancreatitis and even consequences of excessive alcohol use. Seven natural springs and dozens of drilled wells underscore the town’s hydrological wealth, yet it is the Vincentka spring—housed under the vaulted arcade of the Small Colonnade—that remains the most celebrated and frequented source.

The small Chapel of Saint Elizabeth, erected in 1795, stands as Luhačovice’s oldest surviving building. From that modest baroque origin, the town’s skyline would accrue a succession of architectural layers: late‑19th‑century villas in Swiss‑style Art Nouveau and Neo‑Renaissance; Jurkovič’s folk Art Nouveau pavilions; interwar modernist works by Fuchs and Holzl; late‑20th‑century additions to spa facilities. Beyond Jurkovič, figures such as Emil Králík, Oskar Poříska and František Roith left their mark. Bohuslav Fuchs, in particular, devised zoning plans that enabled the construction of the Radun, Iva, Avion and Viola guesthouses and the Sáva villa, structures that balance functional simplicity with quietly refined detailing.

While visitors have long arrived for treatments, Luhačovice’s offerings extend beyond spa regimens. The dam three kilometres upstream—known as the Luhačovická or Pozlovická reservoir—fulfills both flood‑control and leisure roles; angling competitions held here each spring and autumn draw contenders from across the Czech Republic. Within town, cafés, wine bars, pastry shops and restaurants reflect Moravian culinary traditions, which evolved alongside the hospitality industry in the early 20th century. The daily rhythm of spa promenades now intertwines with cultural events staged in the spa theatre, exhibitions in historic halls and concerts on the bandstand skirting the colonnades. A modular sports hall and outdoor tennis courts further diversify the activity palette.

Beyond the immediate spa precinct, marked circuits guide walkers and cyclists through the surrounding hills. Signposts point to castle ruins perched on forested knolls and to the remnants of the Serényi château southwest of town—silent testament to the family’s centuries of stewardship. Information panels along the way narrate the arrival of Slavic settlers in Moravia, while interpretive centres outline the region’s ethnographic profile: the vernacular architecture of Luhačovské Zálesí, the folkloric customs at the crossroads of Wallachia and Slovakia, and the gradual melding of highland and lowland traditions.

Today, Luhačovice’s urban visage—where irregular valleys intersect and terraces of buildings cling to slopes—remains both idiosyncratic and cohesive. Streets curve in gentle arcs, guiding visitors beneath timbered eaves, through colonnades whose arches frame shafts of light and leaf, toward the spectral outline of surrounding ridges. In this setting, the healing waters continue to flow uninterrupted, as they have for centuries, carrying within them the sediment of history, architecture and human endeavour. Though time has brought political transformations and shifting aesthetic currents, the town has preserved its equilibrium between physiological purpose and cultural resonance, offering a rare alignment of science, art and landscape. In Luhačovice, the past is neither frozen nor merely commemorated: it endures in daily rituals of sips and strolls, in the careful stewardship of buildings old and new, and in the unspoken promise that, here, waters may yield not only cure but also quiet wonder.