“I played the minuet from the pianoforte sonata which he
     found ‘very Germanic’ and powerfully built:  and the ’Wedding
     Day at Troldhaugen,’ which piece he also liked.

“On the following day there was a repetition of these things on board the Hohenzollern, where we were all invited to dinner at eight o’clock.  The orchestra played on deck in the most wondrously bright summer night while many hundreds—­nay, I believe thousands—­of rowboats and small steamers were grouped about us.  The crowd applauded constantly and cheered enthusiastically whenever the Kaiser became visible.  He treated me like a patient:  he gave me his cloak and sent to fetch a rug, with which he covered me carefully.

“I must not forget to relate that he grew so enthusiastic over ‘Sigurd Jorsalfar,’ the subject of which I explained to him as minutely as possible, that he said to von Hiilsen, the intendant of the royal theatres, who sat next to him:  ’We must produce this work! (This was not done, however.)

“I then invited von Hiilsen to come to Christiania to witness a performance of it, and he said he was very eager to so.  All in all this meeting was an event and a surprise in the best sense.  The Kaiser, certainly, is a very uncommon man, a strange mixture of great energy, great self-reliance, and great kindness of heart.  Of children and animals he spoke often and with sympathy, which I regard as a significant thing.”

On the New Year’s Day following the Emperor sent the composer a telegram reading:  “To the northern bard to listen to whose strains has always been a joy to me I send my most sincere wishes for the new year and new creative activity.”  In 1906, Grieg, having once more been the Emperor’s guest, writes to a friend: 

“He was greatly pleased with having become once more a grandfather.  He called to me across the table (referring to ’Sigurd’), ‘Is it agreeable if I call the child Sigurd?’ It must be something Urgermanisch.”

The following anecdote may remind the reader of the amusing scene in Offenbach’s “Grand Duchesse of Gerolstein,” where the Grand Duchess, talking to the guardsman whose athletic proportions she admires, addresses him with a rising scale of “corporal” ... “sergeant” ... “lieutenant” ... “captain” ... “colonel,” and so on, as she talks, only, however, later cruelly to re-descend the scale to the very bottom when her courtship is ineffectual.  The Emperor is at an organ recital in the Kaiser William Memorial Church; the recital is over and the Court party are about to go when he greets the organist, Herr Fischer:  “My cordial thanks for the great pleasure you have given us, Herr Professor.”  “Pardon, your Majesty,” replies the organist, with commendable presence of mind:  “May I venture to thank your Majesty for the great mark of favour?” “What mark of favour?” asks the Emperor, a little puzzled.  “The fact is your Majesty