1) A reasonably timed start, the morning was only marred by forgetting my hat in the station café where I had my breakfast coffee. But it was still there when I rushed back, so all was well.
2) If I had planned this visit in advance, as God intended, I’d be retracing my steps a lot less. As it is, I always seem to be taking the subway to Karlsplatz and somewhere in the wide radius of the Hofburg. This time my path took me through the Burggarten as four beautiful white horses were being exercised, so that can be considered a bonus.
Horsies!
3) Today’s first stop was the imperial treasury. My goodness, they sure do have a lot of pretty things here, and very few people to admire them — which gave me a lot of elbow room.
If only they had a caftan version in the gift shop, we’d all be entirely ready for the holiday season.
3a) I didn’t expect quite so much couture, being more interested in jewels, but still — my goodness, what a collection!
3b) I really must read up about the Dukes of Burgundy at some point.
It is actually called the Burse of St. Stephen.
3c) Most surprising was the Holy Handbag of St. Stephen, which I guess is no longer exhibited with the Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch.
4) From there it was a hop and skip to the imperial crypt. It sort of surprised me to see this Capuchin friary in such a posh retail district (but obviously they got there first). They make it clear via signage that “You are entering a graveyard” and you will show respect, which overall people did.
I mean, really.
4a) Now I had been the crypt at El Escorial in 2022 (you know, those other Hapsburgs . . . ), and that had been mighty lavish and impressive. I hadn’t really thought about what to expect here, but these severely spare chambers are just filled with lines of metal sarcophagi. But some of them are so elaborate they should be parade floats.
Just look at that big ol’ thing!
4b) Maria Theresa’s double-wide sarcophagus (which she shares with her husband) was designed to overpower. The information plaque indicated that the empress prayed there every day after the death of her husband, which reminded me of a story Madame Campan told her in her biography of Marie Antoinette. One of Antoinette’s older sisters, Josepha, was about to set off to marry the King of Naples (as one does), but just as she was preparing to leave, she “received an order from the Empress not to set off without having offered up a prayer in the vault of her forefathers.” Ordinarily not a problem, except another member of the family had just been laid away there after dying of smallpox. Oopsie. “The Archduchess, persuaded that she should take the disorder to which her sister-in-law had just fallen a victim, looked upon this order as her death-warrant” and “Her anticipation was realised; confluent smallpox carried her off in a very few days, and her youngest sister ascended the throne of Naples in her place.”
4c) In the (extensive) rules posted near the entrance, visitors are prohibited from placing floral tributes on the sarcophagi, including in vases. So I found it quite clever that gray hatboxes filled with red roses had been placed in a couple places. An ingenious solution.
4d) In the penultimate chamber Franz Joseph had been laid to rest, with his beloved Sisi on one side and his tragic, sadly misunderstood son Rudolph on the other. Each of these sarcophagi had some sort of floral tribute at its front: a long-stemmed pink rose for the emperor, two small nosegays for Rudolph, and for Sisi three small bouquets, a small sheaf of handwritten notes, and three framed pictures of herself.
As seen from the rear, so Rudolph is on the left and his mother Sisi on the right.
4e) I also took note of Zita, the last empress, who died in 1989.
4f) In conclusion, most members of this family are not remembered for their achievements, or even as individuals. “Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!” indeed.
5) Then, to the Café Demel, another of those recommended by my Friend Who Knows Vienna. The joint was jumpin’ since it was just after noon, but one must go upstairs to be seated, not just linger on the first floor with all the pastry and candy counters. The modern staircase disoriented me for a moment because one wall is only clear glass with no handrail. #acrophobia
5a) Mademoiselle seated me quickly, and I was very glad indeed to be sitting down. And eventually I had my first goulash of the trip, with potatoes and an aperol spritz, which I enjoyed while contemplating a vista of Venetian glass chandeliers.
5a.i) Then of course I had to have a melange and a slice of chocolate torte.
“But you’ve gotta have a gimmick if you want to get ahead!”
6) To walk from the café to the Leopold Museum was to walk a straight line through the Hofburg, which made things simple. There are street musicians in Vienna the same as there are in tourist destinations all over the world, but this is the first time I’ve seen one wearing a horse’s head mask while playing the accordion. Of course I put some change in his basket; that’s dedication.
Portrait of Egon Schiele by Max Oppenheimer.
7) The Leopold focuses mainly on Vienna of 1900 and the artists and designers who made it so vibrant (some of whom I’d never heard): Klimt and Schiele, of course, but also Alma Mahler, Richard Gerstl, Koloman Moser (of whom I must learn more), Oskar Kokoschka, Carl Moll, Max Oppenheimer, and Minnie Moore*. Most of the Klimts in this collection are from early in his career, before he developed his signature style. Schiele, brilliant and disturbing. Richard Gerstl was a surprise, particularly because I recognized one of his self-portraits. (By the way, it’s a really bad idea to have an affair with the wife of your mentor.) But Moser’s works most made me want to learn more about him.
7a) The lowest level of the Leopold was devoted to the Biedermeier period, which is basically the period between the Congress of Vienna (1814-15?) and the revolutions of 1848. What I knew about the Biedermeier was not much — basically curly maple furniture with black bands — but they put together a really magnificent collection of paintings, clothing, and other items to illustrate the period.
7b) When in a museum with an unexpected entirely empty room, one must pause to honor the memory of Irving Penn with a selfie.
Why indeed? Seen on the way to dinner.
8) Truly, I was worn out — not least because one of my sockless socks just would not stay in place — and very happy to take the subway back to my hotel. I looked in at the little shop of household goods that also advertised “souvenirs,” hoping for Viennese house numbers and postcards. But alas for me, it was mostly cleaning supplies and kitchen organizers.
9) After a brief but heavy NAP, I returned to Café Eduard for a glass of rosé and their chicken risotto — which could have been cooked a little longer, but was still savory. And then a negroni at the hotel bar while I wrote.
*Or was it her sister, Minnie Others? 😜