April 14.—The Ridotto, a very large fine room, well lighted, most people in their usual dresses—no brilliancy of dress, or whimsicality, or variety of character. Those who masque, merely disguise themselves, without assuming any particular costume.
April 17.—Breakfasted at Lady Taaffe’s, to see the Emperor pass by to St. Stephen’s, in honour of the citizens of Vienna, who, on the anniversary of this day four years ago, rose en masse, and took arms to oppose Buonaparte. The occasion of the fête made it interesting; dazzling it was not, for the Emperor, who is averse to all unnecessary parade, was in a plain coach, without guards or any outward sign of royalty. All the citizens who took arms, marched in a body, with their officers at their head, and military music. The spectators made a most pleasing part of the spectacle; not a beggar, or ragged or dirty person to be seen. All were well clothed, and had the appearance of enjoying habitually the comforts of life. The Emperor is easy of access, and two days in the week may be approached by the meanest of his subjects. He is averse to all pomp, lives in his own family, and is attached to his own wife, which in Germany is a singular thing, as a mistress is almost considered here a necessary part of the establishment of a married man. He appears at the Prater in the plainest carriage, driving the Empress, who scarcely ever leaves him. She is not beautiful, but possesses, I am told, a thousand graces; is highly accomplished; mistress both of the theory and practice of music, and an excellent mineralogist. I dined to-day at Prince Esterhazy’s, one of the greatest among the Hungarian noblemen. He has a million florins a-year, but is greatly in debt. He was not at home, but the Princess is a charming, unaffected, pretty woman about thirty.
April 20.—Dined at Prince Colloredo’s. His wife, though very civil, could not conceal her joy that I was soon to go to England, because I was to be succeeded by a gold muslin, which I have promised to buy for her. The abundance of pearls and diamonds worn here is absolutely dazzling. I am told they are all entailed.
April 21.—Passed the evening with the Duchess of Giovine. The oftener we meet, the more I admire the extent of her information, the clearness of her understanding, and the vivacity of her ideas. The learned languages, history ancient and modern, and the various branches of natural philosophy, especially mineralogy, seem familiar to her. She has reflected deeply on education, politics, and manners; and owned to me that she had hoped to have a place about the Empress, which would enable her to direct the education of the Archduchesses.[19] No woman could be more fit for such a situation; but court intrigues, and particularly the influence of the Marquis di Gallo, the Neapolitan Minister, and of the present grande maîtresse, prevented it. That the first should oppose her was the more extraordinary, as she is highly favoured by the Queen of Naples. An unhappy marriage, bad health, and a natural taste for mental improvement, all co-operated to promote her present retired and studious life.
April 25.—A thé at Comtesse Worzell’s, a Polonaise. Lord Douglas, a late arrival, was of the party. He looks like a public singer, and is devoted to music, but is easy and well-bred. Saw the real dress of a Polish nobleman. It is becoming, and is a sort of tunic of two colours, with sleeves puffed at the top, and a girdle. The colours are blue and grey.
April 26.—The opera of La Virtu in Cimento, a charming piece on the canvass of Patient Grizzle; the music by Paer. His wife sings in it remarkably well.
May 2.—The public walks about Vienna are delicious, particularly the Augarten, where no carriages or horses are admitted, and which, if less a garden peigné, would be perfect. I have dined three days this week at the houses of the Ministers. This is no compliment, being a matter of course. There are about forty persons present at these entertainments. The dinners do not appear superlatively good, and would not, I believe, content an English epicure. They all begin at three, end before five; coffee and cards succeed; one retires about six, and, if one chooses, returns at nine to an assembly in the same house.—Among the modes here, I chiefly dislike the use of running footmen. It is so cruel, and so unnecessary. These unhappy people always precede the carriage of their masters in town, and sometimes even to the suburbs. They seldom live above three or four years, and generally die of consumption. Fatigue and disease are painted in their pallid and drawn features; but, like victims, they are crowned with flowers, and adorned with tinsel. Dwarfs as a piece of pageantry also pain me, though I do not well know why.
May 4.—Drank tea at a house Mad. de —— possesses in the Prater, a delicious little spot; and the moving, animated, and varied spectacle it offers of people of every description and almost of every nation, apparently happy and entertained, is wonderfully amusing—for a few moments. The inhabitants of Vienna may certainly be called the Sybarites of Europe, and their love of diversions proves an obstacle to the cultivation of intellect, art, or science.
May 7.—Was presented by the Baroness de la Vallaise to the Emperor and Empress. He receives quite alone, she with two ladies of honour; so in fact you merely pay them a morning visit. He has a mild countenance; she has as much gentleness in her expression, with more animation. Both are extremely gracious, and it appears nature, and not art. They place themselves on a level with you, and do not remind you that they descend. She is not handsome, but very pleasing. She was well dressed, in white silk; in her hair, which seems very fine and was dressed with powder, she wore a row of emeralds, each set flat, and surrounded with diamonds. A trimming on the front of her gown, and her necklace and ear-rings, were all of the same kind.
May 11.—Supped with Mad. Divoff. Cardinal Albani accompanied very well on the pianoforte Mons. ——, a banker, who had passed his youth in Italy, and who sung charmingly. Madame de Kalitschoff, the Russian embassadress, a lively pretty woman, was so impatient for the pattern of my combs, that she pulled them out of my head, without the least reluctance to discompose my toilette, and put them into her own. The women here possess little taste in their dress. The manner in which they mix every colour, not merely in the rainbow, but in all nature, and the variety of showy ornaments they heap on one another, is incredible.