Fire-places are almost unknown in the private houses of Vienna, and a stranger is surprised not to find any even in the kitchens.
Vienna is composed of two distinct parts, the city properly so called and the suburbs, the latter being separated from the former by large ditches and high walls. The total population is about 225,000 souls. It is at present on the increase, in consequence of the important advantages derived by Austria from the late wars. This city, however, is not a healthy residence, notwithstanding the high winds which usually prevail there, and which tend to promote salubrity. Instances of longevity are much more rare in this than in other capitals. In general the mortality is as one to fifteen annually, which is nearly three times as great as that of the British metropolis. Though this effect may be partly owing to the attachment to the pleasures of the table for which the people of Vienna are proverbial, yet, it must also be in part ascribed to the climate, which is extremely variable, frequently changing in the course of few hours from the extreme of heat to that of cold, and the air, unless ventilated daily by a breeze about two hours before noon is said to become pestilential. The spring water also is insalubrious, being apt to occasion bowel complaints to strangers; and the water of the Danube is so thick and muddy that it cannot be drunk unless filtered.
The numerous benevolent institutions in Vienna and the comforts enjoyed by the lower classes seem to argue that this great mortality is owing rather to the climate than to any other cause. The humane mind is not here shocked by the appearance of that squalid misery which excites as much disgust as pity, and the number of mendicants with which most other large cities are infested. But if the lower classes here are better off than in some other countries, it is chiefly owing to their superior morality and good conduct, which secure them from indigence and want.
The shops of Vienna are not decorated with that profusion and luxury which are displayed in those of London and Paris. They are neat and simple; and though they may contain a considerable variety of goods, yet frequently a square glazed case of patterns hanging at the door is the only mark by which the nature of a shopkeeper's dealings is estimated. The shops, therefore, contribute but little to the embellishment of the streets in which they are situated.