VIENNA FROM LEOPOLDSBERG
Approaching Vienna from the river may be, as has been suggested, a little disappointing but then it might be said that few beautiful towns have approaches worthy of their reputation; and Vienna is in this regard not an exception. From the river we go through a variety of streets, along a broad thoroughfare—the People’s Prater, a large part of which seems given over to “side shows”—and it is only when we have crossed one or other of the bridges that span the Danube Canal, and reached St. Stephen’s cathedral, and then journeyed to the great theatres, galleries, museums, and palaces, that we begin to realize at once the beauty and fascination of the place. Disappointment soon gives way to appreciation, and appreciation to enthusiasm.
Though Tulln is said to have been a town before Vienna was so much as a village, it is probable that there is something of exaggeration in the saying, for excavations not infrequently reveal Roman relics in the capital, though the many sieges it has undergone during a somewhat stormy history seem to have robbed it of any lasting evidences of its age. It is, indeed, as a handsome modern city that it appeals to the eye, with its broad “Ring” roads, its grand blocks of stone buildings, its many fine statues, its evidences of culture, and its animated crowds. Beyond the life of its streets, the beauty of its many buildings, one of the most insistent memories of Vienna is the noise of the traffic on its stone-paved streets. This is not, however, the place for a detailed account of the city, we can but glance at it, as it were in passing. Despite the many tragic episodes in its long history, the place is famous as a centre of art and music, pleasure and social life, and even a short sojourn serves to show what an endless variety of beautiful spots, on rivers, in valleys, on hills and mountains the Viennese have ever within their reach.
Though it has now spread far about the valley, and towards the foot of the vineyard hills, it is not so very long since Vienna was a walled city recalling the days when Emperors were closely besieged in their citadel, or the later times when the triumphing Napoleon made it one of the centres of his conquest. Already, however, before the walls had disappeared the town had so far expanded beyond them that, as a visitor in the early part of last century said, Vienna was “the least part of itself.” The same thing might be said of London if we were to regard the City as London.
The magnificent St. Stephen’s cathedral—the most prominent object in any survey of the city from the neighbouring heights—is one of the sights that remain most vividly in memory after we have left Vienna. This grand edifice, which has survived the many sieges before which so much of the ancient town has disappeared, was erected in the twelfth century, and forms one of the most beautiful of all temples for Christian worship. Its delicate crocketed spire, rising from a massive but rich tower is one of the great beauties of architecture, and the lofty interior—despite some obtrusive modernities—is grandly impressive.
The Palace at Schönbrunn is also a memorably beautiful place with its splendidly planned grounds and beautiful view of the city from its gloriette, but it is not possible to mention the many points of interest, nor to refer to the historical or legendary lore of a city that is rich in both.
One legend that may be given is that connected with the Spinnerinn am Kreuz, a beautiful Gothic cross on the Wienerberg to the south of the city, from the neighbourhood of which a lovely panorama of Vienna can be studied and admired. This was erected in 1382, replacing a simple crucifix, according to one version of the legend, which says that a lady whose husband had joined the Crusades was wont to sit day after day at the foot of the crucifix spinning and praying. When at length the husband returned safely the thankful wife erected this cross with the proceeds of her spinning. The other version of the story tells us that a young Crusader here bade farewell to his lady love, and at the moment of separation she presented him with a rose and sang—
“Take the flower! Let the heart’s first bequeathing
Be the pledge of true faith on thy plume;