A third art exhibition followed in 1910—that of two hundred American oil paintings brought to Berlin and shown in the Royal Academy of Arts on the Panser Platz. They included works by Sargent, Whistler, Gari Melchior, Leon Dabo, Joseph Pennell, and many others. The suggestion for this exhibition did not proceed from the Emperor, but in all possible ways he gave the exhibition his personal support. On returning from inspecting it he telegraphed to the American Ambassador in Berlin, Dr. D. J. Hill, to express the pleasure he had derived from what he had seen. Nor was such a mark of admiration surprising. The exhibition was nothing short of a revelation, going far to dissipate the German belief—perhaps the English belief also—that America possesses no body of painters of the first rank.
Again we have recourse to the marine painter, Herr Salzmann. Wired for by the Emperor, the painter got to the palace at 10.15 PM. When he arrived the Emperor cried out, "So, at last! Where have you been hiding yourself? I have had Berlin searched for you." The Emperor and Empress and suite had just returned from the theatre and were standing about the room. It turned out that the Emperor wanted the painter to help him sketch a battleship of a certain design he had in mind, to see how it would look on the water. In the middle of the room an adjutant stood and read out a speech made by a Radical deputy in the Reichstag that day, and the Emperor made occasional remarks about it, though at the same time he was engaged with the ship. The painter does not forget to add that he "was provided with a good glass of beer."
The Emperor is reported to be a capital "sitter." He had the French painter Borchart staying with him at Potsdam to paint his portrait. Borchart describes him as an ideal model, so still and patiently did he sit, and this at times for more than two hours. He talked freely during the sittings. "I don't want to be regarded as a devourer of Frenchmen," was a remark made on one of these occasions; on another he praised President Loubet; and on a third he had a good word even for the Socialist Jaures. When Borchart had finished and naively expressed satisfaction with his own work the Emperor said, "Na, na, friend Borchart, not so proud; it is for us to criticize."
As the Emperor is a lover of the "classical" in painting and sculpture, it is not strange to find him an admirer of the classical in music and recommending it to his people as the best form of musical education. He holds that there is much in common between it and the folk-songs of Germany. At Court he revived classical dances like the minuet and the gavotte. He is devoted to opera and never leaves before the end of the performance. Concerts frequently take place in the royal palaces at Potsdam and Berlin, items on the programme for them being often suggested by the Emperor. The programme is then submitted to him and is rarely returned without alteration. Not seldom the concert is preceded by a rehearsal, which the Emperor attends and which itself has been carefully rehearsed beforehand, as the Emperor expects everything to run smoothly. At these rehearsals he will often cause an item to be repeated. Bach and Handel are his prime favourites. He is no admirer of Strauss. Wagner he often listens to with pleasure, and especially the "Meistersinger," which is his pet opera. Of Italian operas Verdi's "Aida" and Meyerbeer's "Huguenots" are those he is most disposed to hear.
He has been laughed at for once attempting musical composition. The "Song to Aegir," which he composed in 1894 at the age of thirty-five (when he should have known better), was, he told the bandmaster of a Hannoverian regiment, suggested to him by the singing of a Hannoverian glee society. It is a song twenty-four lines long, with the inevitable references to the foe, and the sword and shield, and whales and mermaids, and the God of the waves, who is called on to quell the storm. The lady-in-waiting who wrote the "Private Lives of the Emperor and His Consort" tells with much detail how the song was really written, not by the Emperor, but almost wholly by a musical adjutant. It does not greatly matter, but it is likely that the Emperor is responsible for the text if he did not compose the music.
One of the best and most interesting descriptions of his kindly and characteristic way of treating artists is that given by the late Norwegian composer, Eduard Grieg.
"The other day," writes the composer,
I had a chance to meet your Kaiser. He had already expressed a desire last year to meet me, but I was ill at that time. Now he has renewed his wish, and therefore I could not decline the invitation. I am, as you know, little of a courtier. But I said to myself, 'Remember Aalesund' (for which the Emperor had sent a large sum after a great fire), and my sense of duty conquered. Our first meeting was at breakfast at the German Consul's house. During the meal we spoke much about music. I like his ways, and—oddly enough—our opinions also agreed. Afterwards he came to me and I had the pleasure of talking with him alone for nearly an hour. We spoke about everything in heaven and earth—about poetry, painting, religion, Socialism, and the Lord knows what besides.
"He was fortunately a human being, and not an Emperor. I was therefore permitted to express my opinions openly, though in a discreet manner, of course. Then followed some music. He had brought along an orchestra (!), about forty men. He took two chairs, placed them in front of all the others, sat down on one, and said, 'If you please, first parquet'; and then the music began—Sigurd Jorsalfar, Peer Gynt, and many other things.
"While the music was being played he continually aided me in correcting the tempi and the expression, although as a matter of course I had not wanted to do such a thing. He was very insistent, however, that I should make my intentions clear. Then he illustrated the impression made by the music by movements of his head and body. It was wonderful (göttlich) to watch his serpentine movements à la Orientalin while they played Anitra's dance, which quite electrified him.