Bratislava – Old Town Hall (Schützenscheiben – Queen Maria Ludovica from 1808)
This elegant wooden disc is a Schützenscheibe, which as my two loyal blog readers will now know, is a form of painted target used in traditional shooting competitions, a sort of festive invitation to take aim at a bit of imperial portraiture. In this case, the honour falls to Maria Ludovika (1787-1816) of Austria-Este, Queen of Hungary and Holy Roman Empress, depicted here in all her finery and dated May 1808. Nothing says “we love our monarch” like painting her onto a large wooden circle and then taking potshots at her from 30 paces.
Maria Ludovika, for those not up to date on their early 19th-century Habsburg power players (and I’ve have had to faff about on Google as it’s not my strong point either), was the third wife of Emperor Francis II (later Francis I of Austria — same man, different empire). She was known for her political influence, strong anti-Napoleonic stance and, evidently, her ability to be immortalised on birchwood under a decorative ribbon and a hopeful branch of olive. The inscription rather helpfully proclaims her “the pride of Hungary” and “our greatest joy” which is precisely the kind of thing you say about someone you’re about to fire at respectfully with a musket.
As some sort of claim to fame, she was the hostess of the Congress of Vienna in 1815, following Napoleon’s final defeat. Her health, however, had been deteriorating from 1809 due to tuberculosis. She died in Verona, Kingdom of Lombardy-Venetia on 7 April 1816 at the age of just 28. She is buried in the Imperial Crypt in Vienna and Maria Ludovika and Emperor Francis I had no children, but as he was married four times, he had successors ready and waiting.
I rather liked the theatrical composition of it all and there are names of the good citizens responsible for commissioning at the bottom. This particular disc has survived remarkably well, with only a few signs of wear, suggesting either excellent preservation or slightly hesitant shooters. Another interesting little snapshot of what I would call the Germanic traditions of the early nineteenth century.
