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,