The Secret Memoirs of the Courts of Europe: William II, Germany; Francis Joseph, Austria Hungary, Volume I. (of 2) by Mme. La Marquise de Fontenoy

M >> Mme. La Marquise de Fontenoy >> The Secret Memoirs of the Courts of Europe: William II, Germany; Francis Joseph, Austria Hungary, Volume I. (of 2)

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It is no exaggeration to state that the emperor is in almost perpetual
conflict, and at open war with the great majority of German painters
and designers--a notable exception being the case of Professor von
Menzel. Indeed, their discontent occasionally breaks forth with
an intensity altogether new in the annals of German loyalty to the
throne. A very remarkable instance thereof is the means which they
adopted to show their disapproval of the emperor's treatment of
Wallot, the designer of the palace of the imperial parliament. Wallot
is universally recognized as the foremost architect of the age in
Germany, and his original design for the building, as accepted by
the authorities, was a very grandiose and magnificent conception.
Financial considerations necessitated the modification of some of the
features of the building, while others were forced upon the architect
sorely against his will by the emperor, with the result that the
palace is not quite so superb as originally projected. It remains,
however, a magnificent and imposing pile, well worthy of the purpose
for which it has been erected, and in no way a displeasing monument of
German art and architecture as understood in the nineteenth century.

All the recognized authorities, both Teuton and foreign, in questions
of art and architecture, have pronounced themselves in this sense,
the only discordant note being that to which the emperor has given
utterance. Not only has he publicly declared the new Reichshaus to
be "the very acme of bad taste," but he even went to the length of
striking the designer's name from the list of gold medalists at the
exhibition of art and architecture held at Berlin shortly after the
completion and inauguration of the building. The gold medal had been
voted to Herr Wallot by a jury composed of all the most celebrated
artists in Germany, whose verdict, representing that of the nation,
might have been considered as definite and final. The kaiser, however,
when the list was submitted to him for final approval, substituted,
in lieu of the name of Professor Wallot, that of his favorite
portrait painter, Madame Palma Parlaghy, whose work is, in the eyes of
Germany's leading artists, so execrable that the hanging committee of
the Berlin Academy have repeatedly refused to accord places to any of
her pictures on its walls.

Madame Parlaghy is a pupil of Makart and of Lenbach, and a native of
Hadji-Dorog, in Hungary. She is between thirty and forty, possessed
of glittering, enigmatic eyes, highly-colored cheeks and lips, and the
almost too profuse head of hair that one sees so often on the shores
of the Danube. Her beauty may, nevertheless, be described as majestic,
and she conveys the idea of being a woman possessed of considerable
strength of mind, as well as much diplomacy. She was first recommended
to the emperor by the present Czarina of Russia, to whom she gave
drawing lessons, prior to the marriage of the empress, and after
William had obtained an idea of her skill by a very pleasing portrait
which she painted of Field Marshal von Moltke, which was, however,
rejected by the hanging committee of an art exhibition at Berlin, he
purchased the picture in question for a large sum, and likewise gave
her an order to paint several portraits of himself, declaring openly
that if the judgment of the leading Berlin artists were to be final in
the matter of admitting paintings to public galleries and exhibitions,
there would never be a single work of art worthy of the name on view.
Madame Parlaghy's portraits of the emperor, though questionable as
works of art, are, it must be confessed, very flattering likenesses of
his majesty.

It was shortly after this slight inflicted by the emperor on Professor
Wallot, and the honor conferred upon Madame Parlaghy, that the
National Society of Architects and the National Association
of Artists, the two principal organizations of the kind in
Germany--composed of all that is most eminent in the realms of
architecture and art--jointly invited Professor Wallot to a great
banquet in Berlin, at which over six hundred guests were present, in
the course of which William was guyed in a most merciless manner! The
chief ornament on the principal table was a model of the Reichshaus in
"Schwarzbrod," cheese and confectionery. The dome consisted of a Dutch
cheese, the "Germania" on the top was represented by a smartly aproned
chambermaid on horseback, the horse being led by a footman in imperial
livery, while the whole was labeled "Der gipfel des geschmack,"--the
acme of taste. Another item of the programme was a sort of automatic
machine, which, when a gold medal was placed in the slot, would
perform "Der gesang an Ihr,"--the song to her--meaning, of course,
Madame Parlaghy.

The joke, I need hardly say, consisted in the parodying of the title
of the emperor's musical composition "Sang am Aegir!" The
lustre hanging from the ceiling, which is known in Germany as a
"Kronleuchter" was in the form of an old crinoline. At the entrance to
the banqueting hall hung the representation of a gold medal, which
a lady painter was trying in vain to grasp. The tone of the speeches
throughout the evening was in thorough keeping with the decorations,
and it is doubtful whether such a bold exhibition of independence,
and even disloyalty towards the sovereign, has ever been seen in the
Prussian capital. It speaks well for William's good sense that he
should have refrained from proceeding against any of the organizers of
the entertainment on the ground of _lese majeste_.

There is, as I stated above, one Prussian painter, however, of whom
the kaiser is exceedingly fond, whose eminence in art is acknowledged,
not only in Germany, but all the world over, and upon whom William
has lavished the highest honors that it is in his power to bestow. The
painter in question is Professor von Menzel; popularly known in Berlin
as "His Little Excellency," owing to his diminutive size, his stature
being about four feet nine inches! Professor Menzel, who is of the
most humble origin, is to-day a Knight of the Order of the Black
Eagle, which is the Prussian equivalent of the English Order of the
Garter, or of the Austrian Order of the Golden Fleece, this
decoration carrying with it a patent of hereditary nobility. He is now
considerably over eighty, but from his twelfth year he has earned his
living by means of his brush and palette. All his principal paintings
are devoted to the illustration of historic episodes of Prussian
history and of the reigning house of Hohenzollern. One of his
masterpieces is entitled "The Flute Concert," and represents Frederick
the Great in his palace at Sans-Souci, at a concert with the principal
members of court and his household around him.

One evening the emperor sent for old Menzel, and asked him to join the
royal family at Sans-Souci. When the little painter alighted he was
conducted to the imperial presence, and was somewhat astonished
to notice that the sentinels at the various doors instead of being
arrayed in their ordinary uniform, wore the military garb of the time
of Frederick the Great. But his surprise developed into downright
amazement, when at length two folding-doors were thrown open, and he
found himself in the same apartment which had furnished the scene of
his painting of "The Flute Concert." The room was lighted, as in
olden times, with wax candles, the old-time furniture was disposed
identically as represented in his painting, and, moreover, the company
assembled was composed of men in the costumes of the time of Frederick
the Great, and of ladies attired in the picturesque dress of the
middle of the last century. There advanced to welcome the astounded
artist a personage who, but for the moustache, was the very image
of Frederick the Great, and in whom the little professor had
some difficulty to recognize the kaiser. William greeted him with
old-fashioned courtesy, using the elaborate politeness of our great
grandfathers, and after having presented the little painter to all
the guests, the ladies curtsying deeply in the fashion of the Court of
Versailles, and the men bowing low, Menzel was led by the emperor to
a seat beside the empress, and the emperor's private band, whose
uniforms were in perfect keeping with the costumes of the guests,
played first of all several of Frederick the Great's compositions for
the flute, and then a few of Bach's loveliest _morceaux_. The emperor
himself remained standing beside the little painter's chair throughout
the entire concert, the empress alone and some of her ladies being
seated, while the remainder of the fair guests, as well as all the
men, stood about the apartment endeavoring as far as possible to group
themselves in the same way as the personages figuring in Menzel's
painting. After the concert was finished, the company adjourned to an
adjoining room, Menzel occupying the place of honor to the right of
the empress, while the emperor toasted the little fellow with more
than ordinary eloquence and cordiality.

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.

Through the death of Crown Prince Rudolph, her husband, as next
brother to Emperor Francis-Joseph, became heir to the throne, and
owing to the refusal of Empress Elizabeth to take any part whatsoever
in court life, the archduchess was from that moment, to all intents
and purposes, the "first lady in the land." It was she who presided
at all court ceremonies and official functions, who received the
presentations, and who filled the post of empress alike at Vienna
and at Pesth. Her husband was entirely swayed by her, and completely
subject to her influence, and it is notorious that she looked for the
day when, through his accession to the throne, she would become
the virtual ruler of the great dual empire, and be in a position to
inaugurate all sorts of political ideas, peculiar to herself, notably
in connection with a reversal of Austria's present foreign policy. She
has never made any secret of her disapproval of the Austrian alliance
with Italy, and has even gone so far as to attend with her husband
public meetings in favor of the restoration of the temporal power of
the Papacy, at which King Humbert was bitterly denounced and abused
as a usurper! There seemed no reason whatsoever why her consort should
not live to succeed his elder brother, and as the archduke possessed
a singularly strong constitution, and had scarcely suffered a single
hour's illness since his childhood, there was no cause to fear any
untoward event. Indeed he might have been alive at the present moment
had it not been for his unfortunate pilgrimage to Jerusalem, where
in some way he contracted the malady which carried him off so very
suddenly. He enjoys the distinction of being the only member of his
house whose whole body reposes in the vault of the Capuchin Church
at Vienna, where so many hundred Hapsburgs sleep, some in coffins of
silver and gold, others in caskets of exquisitely ornamented copper.
According to a very gruesome custom in vogue with the reigning house
of Austria for many centuries, the heart is extracted from the body of
the imperial dead within twenty-four hours after their demise, placed
in a silver urn filled with spirits of wine, hermetically sealed, and
then conveyed with the utmost pomp and ceremony, though at night,
to the old cathedral of St. Stephen, where it is received with much
solemnity by the clergy, and placed in niches of the wall, near the
high altar. The entrails are in the same way removed, and conveyed
with identically the same ceremonies to the ancient church of the
Augustines, and it is only what is left that is buried in the vaults
of the Capuchin Church.

Archduke Charles-Louis did not relish this extraordinary yet
traditional treatment of his remains after death, and fervently
believing in the resurrection of the body in the flesh, thought it
distinctly uncanny that his heart and his entrails should each have
to go hunting through the city for his body on the Day of Judgment.
Accordingly, he was laid to rest just as he died, instead of being
entombed, like all the other members of the House of Hapsburg, in
sections.

CHAPTER XI

If I have refrained in the preceding chapter from making any mention
of the attainments of the Dowager Empress Frederick, either as
a sculptor or as a painter, it is because she is so immeasurably
superior to all other royal personages in the realms of art that she
can no longer be regarded as a mere amateur, no matter how clever.
Besides this, her individuality is so strong, her intellectual gifts
so great, and the part which she has played in German politics so
important that she really deserves separate treatment.

If I link her name with that of her daughter-in-law, Empress
Augusta-Victoria, it is because the latter's influence on German
affairs has been even still more weighty, though she is far less
brilliant and clever than her husband's mother. Indeed my readers
after perusing this chapter may feel disposed to ask themselves
whether ordinary intelligence in high places does not work more
successfully than genius.

It is difficult to describe Empress Frederick as anything else than
a genius. Certainly I have never known a more gifted woman. The
diversity, the scope, and the depth of her knowledge are simply
amazing. In conversation it is difficult to broach any subject, no
matter what it is, that she has not mastered. Her acquaintance with
the mediaeval, Renaissance and modern schools of painting, and with
every form and work of art industry is unsurpassed even by those men
who have devoted their entire lives to these studies. I have on one
and the same evening heard her converse on Venetian art with Ludovic
Passini, proving herself his equal in her astounding knowledge of
Venice, past and present; talk with a distinguished physician, who was
amazed by the theoretical knowledge which she displayed of the throat
and breathing organs, and who declared that if she had only had
practical experience, she would have been the finest throat specialist
in the world; and discuss literature with a celebrated Englishman of
letters, chiding him upon his admitting his inability to cap a passage
from Pope, which she quoted! The late Sir Richard Wallace, than whom
no one possessed a more profound knowledge of the masterpieces of the
painters, goldsmiths, jewelers and potters of bygone centuries, was
wont to declare that Empress Frederick surpassed him as an expert,
although, with unlimited wealth at his disposal, he had devoted more
than half a century of his life to the collection of "chefs d'oeuvre"
in all parts of the world.

The depth of her researches into chemical science exceeds that of Lord
Salisbury, who is her most intimate personal friend in England, and
at whose Elizabethan country seat she invariably visits when in her
native country, most of her time while under his roof being spent with
him in his laboratory. But it is particularly as an artist, both with
brush and chisel, that she excels, and while as a painter she ranks
with some of the leading professional masters of the present day, as a
sculptor she surpasses anything achieved or even attempted as yet by a
woman.

The subject which naturally stimulates her most to artistic effort is
the portraiture of her fondly-loved husband. His memory, although he
has been dead eleven years, is so fresh in her mind, her eye is so
capable of recalling his image, and her hand is so well trained to
follow her impressions, and to reproduce what she can visualize, that
no sculptor could vie with her in reproducing his splendid form and
manly features. She once gave a commission to the celebrated German
sculptor Uphues for a colossal statue of "Unser Fritz," and calling
at the artists' studio, whilst he was at work on his clay model, she
pointed out to him some points in which he had not caught the right
expression. Verbal explanations not adequately conveying her meaning,
she asked permission to use the roughing chisel, set to work, and
in half an hour with a touch here and a touch there, modified the
features to such a degree that the sculptor was astounded at the
striking improvement. The model has since been transferred to marble,
and is universally considered to be the best portrait extant of
Emperor Frederick.

No greater tribute to her brilliancy and penetration in the matter
of statecraft could possibly be given than the undisguised and openly
acknowledged animosity with which she was, throughout her married
life, regarded by the late Prince Bismarck, who feared her more than
all his masculine rivals and opponents together. She was a political
foe worthy in every respect of his steel, for she repeatedly
checkmated his moves; and if he sometimes spoke of her with a
brutality and a degree of vehemence altogether out of place, this
must be regarded as more in the light of a compliment than as an
intentional piece of discourtesy, as it was a virtual admission of
the fact that her opposition to his projects was of altogether too
masculine and virile a character to admit for one moment of his
according to her that forbearance and chivalrous deference which men
as a rule are wont to concede to women as a tribute to their sex. She
fought him unceasingly, from the time when he violated the Prussian
constitution, shortly before the war with Denmark, until the day
when through her efforts and statecraft he was driven from office,--a
vanquished foe. He had used in vain every weapon against her that his
ingenuity could devise. He had even gone so far as to publicly charge
her with treason in betraying to the English, and through them to
the French, military secrets which had been imparted to her by her
husband, during the war of 1870. He had, in short, done everything
that lay in his power to prevent her husband from succeeding to the
crown, mainly, as he admitted, with the object of preventing her from
sharing the throne as empress; and after having grossly insulted
her in the presence of her dying, voiceless and helpless husband
by refusing to transact any state business, or to communicate any
confidential reports to the monarch as long as she was in the room,
he incited her eldest son, whose mind he had deliberately poisoned
against her, to take steps which could only intensify the sorrow of
the grief-stricken woman immediately after her so fondly loved husband
had been taken from her.

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