“Once the rehearsals of a play in which the Emperor is interested are under way he loses no time in going to the theatre to see whether the instructions he has appended to the stage directions in the MS. are being properly carried out.  Some morning, when the vast stage of the opera is humming with activity, the well-known primrose-coloured automobile will drive up to the entrance and the Emperor, accompanied only by a single adjutant, will emerge.  In three minutes William II will be seated at a big, business-like table placed in the stalls, before him a pile of paper and an array of pencils.  When he is in the house there is no doubt whatever in anyone’s mind as to who is conducting the rehearsal.  His intendant stands at his side in the darkened auditorium and conveys his Majesty’s instructions to the stage, for the Emperor never interrupts the actors himself.  He makes a sign to the intendant, scribbles a note on a sheet of paper, while the intendant, who is a pattern of unruffled serenity, just raises his hand and the performance abruptly ceases.  There is a confabulation, the Emperor, with the wealth of gesture for which he is known, explaining his views as to the positions of the principals, the dresses, the uniforms, using anything, pencil, penholder, or even his sword to illustrate his meaning.  Again and again up to a dozen times the actors will be put through their paces until the imperial Regisseur is entirely satisfied that the right dramatic effect has been obtained.

“All who have witnessed the imperial stage-manager at work agree that he has a remarkable flair for the dramatic.  Very often one of his suggestions about the entrances or exits, a piece of ‘business’ or a pose, will be found on trial to enhance the effect of the scene.  A story is told of the Emperor’s insistence on accuracy and the minute attention he pays to detail at rehearsal.  After his visit to Ofen-Pest some years ago for the Jubilee celebration, which had included a number of Hungarian national dances, the Emperor stopped a rehearsal of the ballet at the Berlin opera while a Czardas was in progress and pointed out to the balletteuses certain minor details which were not correct.

“In his attitude to the Court actors and actresses he displays the charm of manner which bewitches all with whom he comes in contact.  He calls them ‘meine Schauspieler,’ which makes one think of ‘His Majesty’s Servants’ of Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre.  This practice sometimes has amusing results.  Once when the Theatre Royal comedian, Dr. Max Pohl, was suddenly taken ill the Emperor said to an acquaintance, ‘Fancy, my Pohl had a seizure yesterday;’ and the acquaintance, thinking he was referring to a pet dog replied, commiseratingly:  ‘Ah, poor brute!’ After rehearsal the Emperor often goes on to the stage and talks with the actors about their parts.

“A Hohenzollern must not be shown on the stage without the express permission of