However one condemns the policy of Austria with respect to her subject provinces and the rest of Europe, it is impossible not to be struck with her liberal provision for her own immediate people. The public institutions of all kinds in Vienna are allowed to be the finest and most liberally endowed on the continent. Her hospitals, prisons, houses of industry, and schools, are on an imperial scale of munificence. The emperor himself is a father to his subjects, and every tongue blesses him. Napoleon envied him their affection, it is said, and certainly no monarch could be more universally beloved.
Among the institutions of Vienna are two which are peculiar. One is a maison d’accouchement, into which any female can enter veiled, remain till after the period of her labour, and depart unknown, leaving her child in the care of the institution, which rears it as a foundling. Its object is a benevolent prevention of infanticide.
The other is a private penitentiary, to which the fathers of respectable families can send for reformation children they are unable to govern. The name is kept a secret, and the culprits are returned to their families after a proper time, punished without disgrace. Pride of character is thus preserved, while the delinquent is firmly corrected.
LETTER XIII.
Vienna—Palaces and Gardens—Mosaic Copy of Da Vinci’s “Last Supper”—Collection of Warlike Antiquities; Scanderburg’s Sword, Montezuma’s Tomahawk, Relics of the Crusaders, Warriors in Armour, the Farmer of Augsburg—Room of Portraits of Celebrated Individuals—Gold Busts of Jupiter and Juno—The Glacis, full of Gardens, the General Resort of the People—Universal Spirit of Enjoyment—Simplicity and Confidence in the Manners of the Viennese—Baden.
At the foot of a hill in one of the beautiful suburbs of Vienna, stands a noble palace, called the Lower Belvidere. On the summit of the hill stands another, equally magnificent, called the Upper Belvidere, and between the two extend broad and princely gardens, open to the public.
On the lower floor of the entrance-hall in the former palace, lies the copy, in mosaic, of Leonardo da Vinci’s “Last Supper,” done at Napoleon’s order. Though supposed to be the finest piece of mosaic in the world, it is so large that they have never found a place for it. A temporary balcony has been erected on one side of the room, and the spectator mounts nearly to the ceiling to get a fair position for looking down upon it. That unrivalled picture, now going to decay in the convent at Milan, will probably depend upon this copy for its name with posterity. The expression in the faces of the apostles is as accurately preserved as in the admirable engraving of Morghen.
The remaining halls in the palace are occupied by a grand collection of antiquities, principally of a warlike character. When I read in my old worm-eaten Burton, of “Scanderburg’s strength,” I never thought to see his sword. It stands here against the wall, along straight weapon with a cross hilt, which few men could heave to their shoulders. The tomahawk of poor Montezuma hangs near it. It was presented to the emperor by the king of Spain. It is of a dark granite, and polished very beautifully. What a singular curiosity to find in Austria!