This sculpture portrays the dramatic climax of a story from the Old Testament. God wants to put Abraham’s faith and loyalty to the test, and commands him to sacrifice his own son. Without hesitating, Abraham complies with his divinely willed fate, climbs the Mountain of Moriah (which, translated, means “fear of God”) and builds an altar there for the burnt offering (Genesis 22:1-19).

Bergler is able to convey the tension of the depicted moment with considerable authenticity. Resigned to God’s will, Isaac sits blindfolded on the altar. Abraham has already drawn his knife to slay his son. Then an angel of the Lord appears, and stops him from fulfilling the divine command at the last possible moment. The strength with which the angel literally blocks Abraham’s thrust is rendered palpable by the two figures’ opposite directions of motion. The angel’s right hand, raised and pointing towards heaven, announces to Abraham his deliverance from his agonising obligation. Abraham, meanwhile, gazes thankfully at the bearer of the good tidings.

This small sculpture was not a model for one of larger dimensions, but an independent work of art. Sculptures of this size were easy to keep in living quarters and were affordable to buy. They therefore enjoyed great popularity during the 18th century.

The relief shows a sleeping St. Joseph, to whom an angel of the Lord appears in a dream. The angel commands him to flee to Egypt because King Herod wants to kill Jesus (Matthew 2:13).

In 1803, Vienna’s municipal authorities decided to replace the two damaged fountains of St. Joseph and St. Leopold located on the Graben. Their dedication to the two provincial patrons had originated from a vow made by Emperor Leopold I during the plague epidemic, and the fountains had then been built during the reign of his son Joseph I. The new fountains were crafted in accordance with the original portrayals, Johann Martin Fischer being commissioned with their design and execution.

Although this is a relief, the figures have an almost full-round effect. The background level of the relief is not really perceived as a surface, but rather as depth to the work.

This new acquisition is a further rendering of the front base relief of St. Joseph’s Fountain on Vienna’s Graben. In its sharpness and trueness to detail, it is significantly better preserved than the version on the fountain, which is exposed to the elements.

Fischer may have made the relief for his friend and benefactor Joseph Barth, whose patron saint was St. Joseph and in whose possession the relief is documented to have been.

This fascinating portrait of an unknown gentleman is a masterpiece from the early 1650s, a period of stylistic transition in the artist’s oeuvre during which his pictures generally became darker with black and greys dominating. The reduced palette is, however, enlivened by a new and very free technique. Simplicity of form and colouring is typical of Hals’ late style, which was beginning to emerge at this time.

In this portrait Frans Hals is revealed as an outstanding master in the art of characterisation. He concentrates on the head and hand of the sitter. Beneath the broad brim of his black hat, the unknown man looks at us with a challenging glance. The remaining surface area is used only sparingly. The black of the clothing makes the man’s physical presence tangible. Wild brushstrokes in the background indicate the spatial context.

This picture is not only interesting for its artistic qualities. Its history is also of significance for Vienna. The painting came to Vienna in the nineteenth century from Brussels via Elsace and eventually ended up in the collection of Baron Albert de Rothschild. The Nazis stole it from the family in 1938. After the War the portrait was, along with many other objects, “bequeathed” to the Kunsthistorisches Museum (Museum of Fine Arts) in Vienna before finally being returned in 1998.

In this still-life van Huysum combines flowers of differing character in a compact arrangement. He depicts the blossoms, leaves, fruits and animals with great precision, drawing on his entire painterly skills. This life-like manner of portrayal does not contradict the ornamental composition. Despite the plastic qualities of the individual objects, the work is conceived to maximise effectiveness on the visual plane.

Van Huysum’s style is in the tradition of Amsterdam flower painting established by Willem van Aelst in the 1650s, which remained influential into the 18th century. Equipped with the experience of long periods in Italy and France, he imported a visual style characterised by its ornamentation.

The main element of the composition is a slightly skewed vertical axis around which the objects are grouped. Aelst’s strongly contrasted treatment of light and shadow seems somewhat softened by van Huysum’s brighter ground. Van Huysum’s work in turn became an exemplar for several generations of still-life painters of the 18th and 19th centuries.

This sculpture of a naked man tied by both hands to a tree stump embraces two levels of interpretation: one mythological, the other religious. On the one hand, it could be intended to depict the satyr Marsyas. The ancient myth has it that Marsyas, who was famous for his flute playing, challenged Apollo to a musical contest. The two agreed that the victor could have unconditional control over the loser. Apollo won because he could accompany his singing by playing the cithara, and he had Marsyas skinned alive as punishment for his insolence.

The no less brutal alternative is the martyrdom of St. Sebastian who, as an officer of Emperor Diocletian’s personal guard, protected Christians from persecution and was executed by archers at the emperor’s command.

The holes, probably once occupied by arrows, turned out to be a later addition. Perhaps the figure had originally been Marsyas before being modified to become St. Sebastian.

The sculpture may have stood in the grotta of Isabella D’Este in Mantua during the 16th century. The corresponding inventory of 1542 mentions “una figura nuda legata a un tronco” (a naked figure tied to a tree trunk). Stylistically it could also be associated with the circle of artists at the Gonzaga court in Mantua. Andrea Mantegna has been suggested as a possible creator of the sculpture. Although contemporary written sources identify him as having been not only a painter but also a sculptor, nobody has thus far been successful in identifying a sculpture as being from his hands. The Marsyas in the Princely Collections could fill this gap.

Even back in ancient times, the judgement of Paris was a popular theme in visual arts and literature. Paris is commanded by the Gods to settle the dispute between the goddesses Hera, Athena and Aphrodite over the question of which one is the most beautiful.

Making various promises, the goddesses compete for the favour of the youthful referee. Hera, the sister and spouse of Zeus, offers Paris her power. Athena, goddess of both war and peace, promises to give him military fame. Aphrodite, however, promises him the most beautiful woman in the world. Evidently an irresistible offer, because Paris hands her the golden apple, symbolising her victory in the contest.

It is this moment of the decision that Soldani captures in his bronze ensemble. While Athena seems not to want to believe that she has lost, Hera is already turning away in disappointment. Incidentally, Paris is then to abduct the beautiful Helen with Aphrodite’s assistance, thereby sparking the Trojan War.

Together with this bronze sculpture, Prince Hans Adam II of Liechtenstein also purchased Soldani’s bronze ensemble Diana and Callisto. Soldani had offered Prince Johann Adam Andreas I of Liechtenstein the opportunity to purchase both objects back in 1702.

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).