The portrait of the Danish sculptor Thorvaldsen
(1770–1844) late in life shows him sitting comfortably in an armchair with a look of concentration on his face. The marked wrinkles between his eyes and the thin-lipped mouth, seemingly incapable of smiling, bring to life his taciturn and melancholy personality.

This portrait was painted during Amerling’s second stay in Rome. Presumably the main features of the work were complete by autumn 1842, as Thorvaldsen, who left Rome on 1 October that year, etched his name into the wet paint with the wooden tip of a brush. Amerling’s signature below indicates that work on the painting continued until 1843. A year later the composition was presented to the public at an art exhibition in Vienna.

Thorvaldsen’s fame had not diminished with age. He briefly returned to Rome in 1841, where he had worked for almost forty years, developing his sculptural style with its influences of classicism and emerging romanticism.

This portrait shows the two year-old Princess sleeping with a doll in her arms. Her relaxed and peaceful slumber mirrors her untroubled being. The finely painted features and red cheeks contrast with the energetic, open brush strokes, which capture her unruly locks and wrinkled shirt. Amerling focuses closely on the subject, thereby increasing the intimate nature of the picture through its proximity to the viewer.

This work is a successful blend of portrait and genre. As seen here, this combination played a dominant role in the Biedermeier period.

This portrait also expresses the close relationship between the artist and his princely client. Prince Alois II commissioned many portraits of his family from Amerling. This painting is the first of a series, comprising portraits of the Princesses Karoline (1837) and Sophie (around 1839), the hereditary Prince Johann (1845) and finally of the Prince himself, in a robe of the Order of the Golden Fleece (1845).

In Gauermann’s book of earnings we find a description of this painting by the artist himself. ‘A cart laden with grain is being rushed up a hill; two horses, a grey and a chestnut, pull with great difficulty; on the first sits a youth, driving; another horse is unhitched, being led by a boy. On the hill to the left are trees bent by a storm and underneath a farmhouse. A thunderstorm is brewing above the high mountains in the background. In the centre appears Lake Zell; a group of country folk are coming up the hill; the wind has blown a boy’s hat off, two men are holding on to the cart.’

In contrast to this rather sober description, the painting captivates its viewer through its loaded atmosphere. The painting exudes the special quality of the charged air preceding a storm, once described by Gauermann as his favourite theme. The almost supernatural light typical of an approaching storm also contributes to the success of the portrayal. The frantic urgency of the people is palpable as they endeavour to secure the harvest. It appears as though the energy of nature’s drama has been transferred to the people. The real subject of the painting is therefore the primal experience of natural might and its power over the fate of mankind.

The Eruption of Mt. Vesuvius at Night shows an eerie natural spectacle. Rebell chose the view of the southern tip of Cape Posillipo. There, on volcanic tuff cliffs, lies the scuola di Virgilio, a complex of ruins known as Virgil’s sorcerer’s school. Yet the school is hardly recognisable among the dramatic events. The fire-spewing volcano towers above the stormy sea as the glow of the lava illuminates the clouds and forms a counterpoint to the cold light of the moon.

Prince Johann I personally ordered the painting from Rebell during his visit to Rome in 1822. Originally the picture was also dated in that year. The date of 1808 which can be seen today is probably the result of a mistake made during an old restoration. An eruption of Vesuvius in 1882 is, in fact, documented and presumably occasioned the commission for Rebell. Details of the painter’s depiction even match contemporary reports of the eruption. Yet the painting is not necessarily the result of observations. Such “effect pieces” were often completed on the basis of travel reports and vedutas.

The depiction of dramatic light phenomena and the artistic portrayal of elemental natural events were popular in late 18th century Italy. Mostly they were the work of foreign artists. The Austrian painter Michael Wutky (1739–1822) was one such painter and he passed this type of painting on to his student Joseph Rebell.

This picture shows Emperor Franz Joseph at the age of two dressed as a grenadier. On his head sits a heavy bearskin cap, in his right hand he holds a rifle and in his left the wooden figure of a Hungarian grenadier. A red and white checked flag used as a marker during manoeuvres and a drum complete the “military equipment”. With a friendly smile, the child is seen toying with the insignias of future power. The peaceful ambience and the pseudo still-life arrangement robs the military toys of any association with the brutalities of real life.

As, later in life, the Emperor was presented with this childhood portrait, he recognised the study of his grandfather, Emperor Franz I, in the imperial house in Baden. On the desk in the background stand miniatures of his uncle Archduke Ludwig (1784–1864) and Elisabeth, Princess of Savoy-Carignan (1800–1856).

The picturesque ruins of the Temple of Juno Lacinia lie on a rocky hill with an olive grove. In 1845 Waldmüller travelled to Sicily for the second time, on this occasion to Agrigento named after the sacred sites built there in the fifth century B.C. The Greek Temple of Lacinia is one such site the Romans dedicated to the goddess Juno Lacinia.

For his picture Waldmüller chose the perspective from the north. In the background, to the south, appears the sea between the rock formations. The view of the temple is from its best preserved side.

The painting is a direct expression of the fascination the southern light and the characteristics of the Italian landscape held for Waldmüller. The glistening sun bathes the landscape in a warm, yellow light. The colour blends the porous stone of the temple with the surroundings, making it seem an integral part of the landscape. The long shadows of a late summer afternoon weave the olive trees spread loosely across the slope into a lattice reaching to the foot of the hill.