which I deem it necessary to give you any description; and these are, the
_Convent of the Capuchins_, near the new Market Place, and that of the
_Franciscans_, near the street in which I lodge. The former is tenanted by
long-bearded monks. On knocking at the outer gate, the door was opened by
an apparently middle-aged man, upon whose long silvery, and broad-spreading
beard, the light seemed to dart down with a surprisingly, picturesque
effect. Behind him was a dark cloister; or at least, a cloister very
partially illumined--along which two younger monks were pacing in full
costume. The person who opened the outward door proved to be the _porter_.
He might, from personal respectability, and amplitude of beard, have been
the _President_. On my servant's telling him our object was to view the
IMPERIAL TOMBS, which are placed in a vault in this monastery, he
disappeared; and we were addressed by a younger person, with a beard upon a
comparatively diminutive scale, and with the top of his hair very curiously
cut in a circular form. He professed his readiness to accompany us
immediately into the receptacle of departed imperial grandeur. He spoke
Latin with myself, and his vernacular tongue with the valet. I was soon
satisfied with the sepulchral spectacle. As a whole, it has a poor and even
disagreeable effect: if you except one or two tombs, such as those of
_Francis I_. Emperor of the Romans, and _Maria Theresa_--which latter is
the most elaborately ornamented of the whole: but it wants both space and
light to be seen effectually, and is moreover I submit, in too florid a
style of decoration. Like the generality of them, it is composed of bronze.
The tombs of the earlier Emperors of Germany lie in a long and gloomy
narrow recess--where little light penetrates, and where there is little
space for an accurate examination. I should call them rather
_coffin-shells_ than monuments. When I noticed the tomb of the Emperor
Joseph II. to my guide, he seemed hardly to vouchsafe a glance at it ...
adding, "yes, he is well known every where!" They rather consider him (from
the wholesale manner in which the monasteries and convents were converted
by him to civil purposes) as a sort of _softened-down Henry VIII_. Upon the
whole, the living interested me more than the dead ... in this gloomy
retirement ... notwithstanding these vaults are said to contain very little
short of fourscore tombs of departed Emperors and Monarchs.
The MONASTERY OF THE FRANCISCANS is really an object worth visiting ... if
it be only to convince you of the comfort and happiness of ... _not_ being
a _Franciscan monk._ I went thither several times, and sauntered in the
cloisters of the quadrangle. An intelligent middle-aged woman--a sort of
housekeeper of the establishment--who conversed with me pretty fluently in
the French language, afforded me all the information which I was desirous
of possessing. She said she had nothing to do with the kitchen, or
dormitories of the monks. They cooked their own meat, and made their own
beds. You see these monks constantly walking about the streets, and even
entering the hotels. They live chiefly upon alms. They are usually
bare-headed, and bare-footed--with the exception of sandals. Their dress is
a thick brown cloak, with a cowl hanging behind in a peaked point: the
whole made of the coarsest materials. They have no beards--and yet,
altogether, they have a very squalid and dirty appearance. It was towards
eight o'clock, when I walked for the first time, in the cloisters; and
there viewed, amongst other mural decorations, an oil painting--in which
several of their order are represented as undergoing martyrdom--by hanging,
and severing their limbs. It was a horrid sight ... and yet the _living_
was not very attractive.
Although placed in the very heart of the metropolis of their country, this
Franciscan fraternity appears to be insensible of every comfort of society.
To their palate, nothing seems to be so sweet as the tainted morsel upon
the trencher--and to their ear, no sound more grateful than the melancholy
echo, from the tread of their own cloister. Every thing, which so much
pleased and gratified me in the great Austrian monasteries of
CHREMSMINSTER, ST. FLORIAN, MÕLK, and GÕTTWIC, would, in such an
atmosphere, and in such a tenement as the Franciscan monastery here, have
been chilled, decomposed, and converted into the very reverse of all former
and cheerful impressions. No walnut-tree shelved libraries: no tier upon
tier of clasp and knob-bound folios: no saloon, where the sides are
emblazoned by Salzburg marble; and no festive board, where the watchful
seneschal never allows the elongated glass to remain five minutes
unreplenished by Rhenish wine of the most exquisite flavour! None of these,
nor of any thing even remotely approximating to them, were to be witnessed,
or partaken of, in the dreary abode of monachism which I have just
described.
You will be glad to quit such a comfortless residence; and I am equally
impatient with yourself to view more agreeable sights. Having visited the
tombs of departed royalty, let us now enter the abodes--or rather
PALACES--of _living_ imperial grandeur. I have already told you that
Vienna, on the first glance of the houses, looks like a city of palaces;
those buildings, which are professedly _palatial_, being indeed of a
glorious extent and magnificence. And yet--it seems strange to make the
remark ... will you believe me when I say, that, of the various palaces, or
large mansions visited by me, that of the EMPEROR is the least imposing--as
a whole? The front is very long and lofty; but it has a sort of
architectural tameness about it, which gives it rather the air of the
residence of the Lord Chamberlains than of their regal master. Yet the
_Saloon_, in this palace, must not be passed over in silence. It merits
indeed warm commendation. The roof, which is of an unusual height, is
supported by pillars in imitation of polished marble ... but why are they
not marble _itself_? The prevailing colour is white--perhaps to excess; but
the number and quality of the looking glasses, lustres, and chandeliers,
strike you as the most prominent features of this interior. I own that, for
pure, solid taste, I greatly preferred the never-to-be-forgotten saloon in
the monastery of St. Florian.[144] The rooms throughout the palaces are
rather comfortable than gorgeous--if we except the music and ball rooms.
Some scarlet velvet, of scarce and precious manufacture, struck me as
exceedingly beautiful in one of the principal drawing rooms. I saw here a
celebrated statue of a draped female, sitting, the workmanship of Canova.
It is worthy of the chisel of the master. As to paintings, there are none
worth description on the score of the old masters. Every thing of this kind
seems to be concentrated in the palace of the Belvedere.
To the BELVEDERE PALACE, therefore, let us go. I visited it with Mr.
Lewis--taking our valet with us, immediately after breakfast--on one of the
finest and clearest-skied September mornings that ever shone above the head
of man. We had resolved to take the _Ambras_, or the LITTLE BELVEDERE, in
our way; and to have a good, long, and uninterrupted view of the wonders of
art--in a variety of departments. Both the little Belvedere and the large
Belvedere rise gradually above the suburbs; and the latter may be about a
mile and a half from the ramparts of the city. The _Ambras_ contains a
quantity of ancient horse and foot armour; brought thither from a chateau
of that name, near Inspruck, and built by the Emperor Charles V. Such a
collection of old armour--which had once equally graced and protected the
bodies of their wearers, among whom, the noblest names of which Germany can
boast may be enrolled--was infinitely gratifying to me. The sides of the
first room were quite embossed with suspended shields, cuirasses, and
breast-plates. The floor was almost filled by champions on horseback--yet
poising the spear, or holding it in the rest--yet _almost_ shaking their
angry plumes, and pricking the fiery sides of their coursers. Here rode
Maximilian--and there halted Charles his Son. Different suits of armour,
belonging to the same character, are studiously shewn you by the guide:
some of these are the foot, and some the horse, armour: some were worn in
fight--yet giving evidence of the mark of the bullet and battle axe: others
were the holiday suits of armour ... with which the knights marched in
procession, or tilted at the tournament. The workmanship of the full-dress
suits, in which a great deal of highly wrought gold ornament appears, is
sometimes really exquisite.
The second, or long room, is more particularly appropriated to the foot or
infantry armour. In this studied display of much that is interesting from
antiquity, and splendid from absolute beauty and costliness, I was
particularly gratified by the sight of the armour which the Emperor
Maximilian wore as a foot-captain. The lower part, to defend the thighs,
consists of a puckered or plated steel-petticoat, sticking out at the
bottom of the folds, considerably beyond the upper part. It is very simple,
and of polished steel. A fine suit of armour--of black and gold--worn by an
Archbishop of Salzburg in the middle of the fifteenth century, had
particular claims upon my admiration. It was at once chaste and effective.
The mace was by the side of it. This room is also ornamented by trophies
taken from the Turks; such as bows, spears, battle-axes, and scymitars. In
short, the whole is full of interest and splendor. I ought to have seen the
ARSENAL--which I learn is of uncommon magnificence; and, although not so
curious on the score of antiquity, is yet not destitute of relics of the
old warriors of Germany. Among these, those which belonged to my old
bibliomaniacal friend Corvinus, King of Hungary, cut a conspicuous and very
respectable figure. I fear it will be now impracticable to see the Arsenal
as it ought to be seen.
It is now approaching mid-day, and we are walking towards the terrace in
front of the GREAT BELVEDERE PALACE: built by the immortal EUGENE in the
year 1724, as a summer residence. Probably no spot could have been selected
with better judgment for the residence of a Prince--who wished to enjoy,
almost at the same moment, the charms of the country with the magnificence
of a city view... unclouded by the dense fumes which for ever envelope our
metropolis. It is in truth a glorious situation. Walking along its wide and
well cultivated terraces, you obtain the finest view imaginable of the city
of Vienna. Indeed it may be called a picturesque view. The spire of the
cathedral darts directly upwards, as it were, to the very heavens. The
ground before you, and in the distance, is gently undulating; and the
intermediate portion of the suburbs does not present any very offensive
protrusions. More in the distance, the windings of the Danube are seen;
with its various little islands, studded with hamlets and fishing huts,
lighted up by a sun of unusual radiance. Indeed the sky, above the whole of
this rich and civilized scene, was, at the time of our viewing it, almost
of a dazzling hue: so deep and vivid a tint we had never before beheld.
Behind the palace, in the distance, you observe a chain of mountains which
extends into Hungary. As to the building itself, I must say that it is
perfectly _palatial_; in its size, form, ornaments, and general effect. He
must be fastidious indeed, who could desire a nobler residence for the most
illustrious character in the kingdom!
Among the treasures, which it contains, it is now high time to enter and to
look about us. Yet what am I attempting?--to be your _cicerone_ ... in
every apartment, covered with canvas or pannel, upon which colours of all
hues, are seen from the bottom to the top of the palace!? It cannot be. My
account, therefore, is necessarily a mere sketch. RUBENS, if any artist,
seems here to "rule and reign without control!" Two large rooms are filled
with his productions; besides several other pictures, by the same hand,
which are placed in different apartments. Here it is that you see verified
the truth of Sir Joshua's remark upon that wonderful artist: namely, that
his genius seems to expand with the size of his canvas. His pencil
absolutely riots here--in the most luxuriant manner--whether in the majesty
of an altarpiece, in the gaiety of a festive scene [145], or in the
sobriety of portrait-painting. His _Ignatius Loyola_ and _St. Francis
Xavier_--of the former class--each seventeen feet high, by nearly thirteen
wide--are stupendous productions ... in more senses than one. The latter
is, indeed, in my humble judgment, the most marvellous specimen of the
powers of the painter which I have ever seen... and you must remember that
both England and France are not without some of his most celebrated
productions--which I have frequently examined.
In the _old German School_, the series is almost countless: and of the
greatest possible degree of interest and curiosity. Here are to be seen
_Wohlgemuths, Albert Durers,_ both the _Holbeins, Lucas Cranachs,
Ambergaus,_ and _Burgmairs_ of all sizes and degrees of merit. Among these
ancient specimens--which are placed in curious order, in the very upper
suite of apartments, and of which the back-grounds of several, in one solid
coat of gilt, lighten up the room like a golden sunset--you must not fail
to pay particular attention to a singularly curious old
subject--representing the _Life, Miracles, and Passion of our Saviour_, in
a series of one hundred and fifty-eight pictures--of which the largest is
nearly three feet square, and every other about fifteen inches by ten.
These subjects are painted upon eighty-six small pieces of wood; of which
seventy-two are contained in six folding cabinets, each cabinet holding
twelve subjects. In regard to _Teniers, Gerard Dow, Mieris, Wouvermann,_
and _Cuyp_ ... you must look _at home_ for more exquisite specimens. This
collection contains, in the whole, not fewer than FIFTEEN HUNDRED
PAINTINGS: of which the greater portion consists of pictures of very large
dimensions. I could have lived here for a month; but could only move along
with the hurried step, and yet more hurrying eye, of an ordinary
visitor[146].
About three English miles from the Great Belvedere--or rather about the
same number of miles from Vienna, to the right, as you approach the
Capital--is the famous palace of SCHÖNBRUNN. This is a sort of
summer-residence of the Emperor; and it is here that his daughter, the
ex-Empress of France, and the young Bonaparte usually reside. The latter
never goes into Italy, when his mother, as Duchess of Parma, pays her
annual visit to her principality. At this moment her Son is at Baden, with
the court. It was in the Schönbrunn palace that his father, on the conquest
of Vienna, used to take up his abode; rarely, venturing into the city. He
was surely safe enough here; as every chamber and every court yard was
filled by the élite of his guard--whether as officers or soldiers. It is a
most magnificent pile of building: a truly imperial residence--but neither
the furniture nor the objects of art, whether connected with sculpture or
painting, are deserving of any thing in the shape of a _catalogue
raisonné_. I saw the chamber where young Bonaparte frequently passes the
day; and brandished his flag staff, and beat upon his drum. He is a soldier
(as they tell me) every inch of him; and rides out, through the streets of
Vienna, in a carriage of state drawn by four or six horses, receiving the
_homages_ of the passing multitude.
To return to the SCHÖNBRUNN PALACE. I have already told you that it is
vast, and capable of accommodating the largest retinue of courtiers. It is
of the _Gardens_ belonging to them, that I would now only wish to say a
word. These gardens are really worthy of the residence to which they are
attached. For what is called ornamental, formal, gardening--enriched by
shrubs of rarity, and trees of magnificence--enlivened by
fountains--adorned by sculpture--and diversified by vistos, lawns, and
walks--interspersed with grottos and artificial ruins--you can conceive
nothing upon a grander scale than these: while a menagerie in one place
(where I saw a large but miserably wasted elephant)--a flower garden in
another--a labyrinth in a third, and a solitude in a fourth place--each, in
its turn; equally beguiles the hour and the walk. They are the most
spacious gardens I ever witnessed.
The preceding is all I can tell you, from actual observation, about the
PALACES at Vienna. Those of the Noblesse, with the exception of that of
Duke Albert, I have not visited; as I learn that the families are from
home--and that the furniture is not arranged in the order in which one
could wish it to be for the purpose of inspection or admiration. But I must
not omit saying a word or two about the TREASURY--where the Court Jewels
and Regalia are kept and where curious clocks and watches, of early
Nuremburg manufacture, will not fail to strike and astonish the antiquary.
But there are other objects, of a yet more powerful attraction:
particularly a series of _crowns_ studded with gems and precious stones,
from the time of Maximilian downwards. If I remember rightly, they shewed
me here the crown which that famous Emperor himself wore. It is,
comparatively, plain, ponderous, and massive. Among the more modern regal
ornaments, I was shewn a precious diamond which fastened the cloak of the
Emperor or Empress (I really forget which) on the day of coronation. It is
large, oval-shaped, and, in particular points of view, seemed to flash a
dazzling radiance throughout the room.
It was therefore with a _refreshing_ sort of delight that I turned from
"the wealth of either Ind" to feast upon a set of old china, upon which the
drawings are said to have been furnished by the pencil of Raffaelle. I
admit that this is a sort of _suspicious_ object of art: in other words,
that, if all the old china, _said_ to be ornamented by the pencil of
Raffaelle, were really the production of that great man, he could have done
nothing else but paint upon baked earth from his cradle to his grave--and
all the _oil paintings_ by him _must_ be spurious. The present, however,
having been presented by the Pope, may be safely allowed to be genuine. In
this suite of apartments--filled, from one extremity to the other, with all
that is gay, and gorgeous, and precious, appertaining to royalty--I was
particularly struck with the insignia of regality belonging to Bonaparte as
King of Rome. It was a crown, sceptre, and robe--of which the two former
were composed of metal, like brass--but of a form particularly chaste and
elegant. There is great facility of access afforded for a sight of these
valuable treasures, and I was surprised to find myself in a crowd of
visitors at the outer door, who, upon gaining entrance, rushed forward in a
sort of scrambling manner, and spread themselves in various directions
about the apartment. Upon seeing one of the guides, I took him aside, and
asked him in a quiet manner "what was done with all these treasures when
the French visited their capital?" He replied quickly, and emphatically,
"they were taken away, and safely lodged in the Emperor's Hungarian
dominions."
You may remember that the conclusion of my last letter left me just about
to start to witness an entertainment called _Der Berggeist_, or the _Genius
of the Mountain;_ and that, in the opening of this letter, I almost made
boast of the gaiety of my evening amusements. In short, for a man fond of
music--and in the country of GLUCK, MOZART and HAYDN--_not_ to visit the
theatres, where a gratification of this sort, in all the perfection and
variety of its powers, is held forth, might be considered a sort of heresy
hardly to be pardoned. Accordingly, I have seen _Die Zauberflöte, Die
Hochzeit des Figaro_, and _Don Giovanni:_ the two former quite enchantingly
performed--but the latter greatly inferior to the representation of it at
our own Opera House. The band, although less numerous than ours, seems to
be perfect in every movement of the piece. You hear, throughout, a
precision, clearness, and brilliancy of touch--together with a facility of
execution, and fulness of instrumental tone--which almost impresses you
with the conviction that the performers were _born_ musicians. The
principal opera house, or rather that in which the principal singers are
engaged, is near the palace, and is called _Im Theater nächst dem
Kärnthnerthoc_. Here I saw the _Marriage of Figaro_ performed with great
spirit and éclat. A young lady, a new performer of the name, of _Wranizth_,
played Susannah in a style exquisitely naïve and effective. She was one of
the most natural performers I ever saw; and her voice seemed to possess
equal sweetness and compass. She is a rising favourite, and full of
promise. Madame _Hönig_ played Mazelline rather heavily, and sung
elaborately, but scientifically. The Germans are good natured creatures,
and always prefer commendation to censure. Hence the plaudits with which
these two rival syrens were received.
The other, opera house, which is in the suburbs, and called
_Schauspielhause_, is by much the larger and more commodious place of
entertainment. I seized with avidity the first opportunity of seeing the
_Zauberflöte_ here, and here also I saw Don Giovanni: the former as
perfectly, in every respect, as the latter was inefficiently, performed.
But here I saw the marvellous ballet, or afterpiece, called _Die
Berggeist_; and I will tell you why I think it marvellous. It is entirely
performed by children of all ages--from three to sixteen--with the
exception of the venerable-bearded old gentleman, who is called the _Genius
of the Mountain_. The author of the piece or ballet "von herrn
Ballet-meister"--is _Friedrich Horschelt:_ who, if in such a department or
vocation in society a man may be said (and why should he not?) to "deserve
well of his country," is, I think, eminently entitled to that distinction.
The truth is, that, all the little rogues (I do not speak literally) whom
we saw before us upon the stage--and who amount to nearly one hundred and
twenty in number--were absolutely beggar-children, and the offspring of
beggars, or of the lowest possible classes in society. They earned a
livelihood by the craft of asking alms. Mr. Horschelt conceived the plan of
converting these hapless little vagabonds into members of some honest and
useful calling. He saw an active little match girl trip across the street,
and solicit alms in a very winning and even graceful manner--"that shall be
my _columbine_," said he:--and she was so. A young lad of a sturdy form,
and sluggish movement, is converted into a _clown_: a slim youth is made to
personate _harlequin_--and thus he forms and puts into action the different
characters of his entertainment... absolutely and exclusively out of the
very lowest orders of society.