It is doubtful whether any sovereign has ever gone to such lengths in order to honor the leading artist of his dominions, and it is difficult to speak too highly of the delicacy of the compliment, or of its originality. It might have been sufficient to turn the head of any other painter than Menzel. But while he is devoted to the reigning family there is certainly no one who is less of a courtier. In fact he is terribly outspoken, and never hesitates to speak to his sovereign with the fearless sincerity of a Diogenes. Of a truth, there is no end to the stories current, illustrating his independence of character. Once, having been commissioned by the grandfather of the present kaiser, namely, old Emperor William, to paint a picture of his coronation as King of Prussia, he reproduced with too much exactitude, and too little flattery, the features of the emperor's exceedingly vain and by no means youthful consort, Empress Augusta. Her majesty insisted that he should alter his portrait of her, and render it more attractive, but this Menzel absolutely refused to do, and the consequence was that the empress on numerous occasions made him feel the weight of her displeasure.
The old painter bided his time, and eventually got even with her in a very characteristic fashion. Being entrusted with the task of reproducing on canvas the scene of the emperor's departure for the seat of war in 1870, he portrayed the Empress Augusta with her face entirely concealed in her handkerchief, as if weeping, although she prided herself on not having shed a single tear on that occasion.
Another time during the life of old Field Marshal Wrangel, a lady of the court, more famous for her vanity than her beauty, complained to him that Menzel had done her scant justice in a large picture representing some important event of contemporary court history. Wrangel, who was famous as a brow-beating bully of the good old Prussian type,—people trembling at the mere sight of him,—promised to see Menzel, and to make him change the portrait of the lady to a more flattering likeness. Greatly to his surprise, however, when he broached the subject to Menzel, he discovered that the latter greatly resented such meddlesomeness. Indeed, Menzel even had the temerity to suggest that field marshals would do far better to attend to subjects that they knew something about than to the art of painting, of which they knew nothing. Wrangel flared up, so did Menzel, and soon the air was blue with finely characterized and bona-fide Prussian oaths, punctuated with the angry sarcasms of the enraged painter. The upshot of the interview was that Wrangel, who had never before turned his back on an enemy, was compelled to beat an ignominious retreat without having accomplished his object; but before disappearing through the door of the studio, he turned and positively yelled at the painter:
"You are a disgusting little toad, and your picture is vile."
While most of the members of the House of Hapsburg paint and sketch with a good deal of cleverness and skill, there is only one, namely, the now widowed Archduchess Maria-Theresa, who can be regarded as an artist in every sense of the word. She excels alike with the chisel and the brush, while during the lifetime of her husband, her salon became, in spite of the strictness of Austrian court etiquette, the one place where eminent artists were certain to find a cordial welcome, irrespective of birth or social status.
The studio of the archduchess is situated on the second floor of her palace, in the Favoritenstrasse, and is a very lofty, long and narrow apartment, looking out on the street. It is particularly remarkable for its simplicity, presenting therein a powerful contrast to the magnificence of the two salons through which it is necessary to pass in order to reach it. The few stools, tabourets, armchairs and divans therein contained, are upholstered with soft-toned Oriental rugs, the walls are hidden by some sort of olive-colored velvety fabric, and the wall opposite the windows is divided in the middle by a species of gallery, the exquisite wood carvings of which were brought by the archduchess herself from Meran. The parqueted floors are partly concealed by the skins of tigers and polar bears, shot in the Arctic regions and in India by her brother, Dom Miguel, Duke of Braganza, the legitimist pretender to the throne of Portugal, while on easels, and suspended from the walls, are oil-color portraits by the archduchess of Baroness C. Kolmossy, to whom she is indebted for her knowledge of painting, of her husband, the late Archduke Charles-Louis, and of her sister-in-law, the lamented Empress Elizabeth, in riding habit and in ball-dress.
There is also a very pretty picture of a cat in the act of effecting its escape from the basket in which it had been confined, and a wonderful crayon sketch of Maria-Theresa's stepson, Archduke Francis-Ferdinand, the heir to the Austro-Hungarian throne. The colossal fire-place niched in one of the corners of the studio, is surmounted, not by a mirror, but by a panel of well-nigh priceless Oriental embroidery, the brilliant colors of which have been softened and rendered harmonious and mellow by age.
The doors are draped by portieres of Flemish tapestry, and shielded by Mucharabieh screens of curiously-carved wood from Cairo. Preserved from dust and damage beneath plate-glass are some unique pieces of antique Venetian point lace, presented by another brother-in-law, Don Alfonso of Spain, the younger brother of the Pretender Don Carlos, while on a huge square writing-table, the equipments of which are of Oriental gold filigree-work, richly jewelled, are usually found letters either to or from the favorite brother-in-law of the archduchess, Duke Charles-Theodore of Bavaria, the celebrated oculist, who during the course of his practice has performed more than three thousand successful operations for cataract without accepting a single penny-piece by way of remuneration.
True, the patients of this royal physician are nearly all of them poor people, and it is for their benefit that he has converted one of his castles into an ophthalmic hospital, and another palace into a species of convalescent home and resort, where poor gentlefolk and government servants with inadequate means can spend a couple of weeks in the country free of all cost.
It is difficult to refrain from a deep degree of sympathy for this so brilliant and accomplished Archduchess Maria-Theresa, whose character is best illustrated by the fact that she is literally worshipped by her grown-up step-children. The sudden death of her husband was not only a cruel bereavement, but was also the destruction of great and much-cherished ambitions.