On the Emperor’s birthday, and when the visits of foreign potentates take place, no tickets are sold and the seats are occupied entirely by guests invited by His Majesty. A splendidly brilliant spectacle is presented on these occasions. The whole house is decorated with wreaths of flowers, the _Parkett_ filled entirely with the gentlemen of the Diplomatic Corps, Ambassadors and envoys from the remotest parts of the world. Chinese mandarins in yellow silk robes, wearing peacocks’ feathers in their caps, Turks and Egyptians in red fezes, all mingle with the uniforms of every existing army into a wonderful mass of scintillating colour. The ladies on these occasions are seated in the dress circle, in a line with the Royal Box which is crowded with princely personages. Before the entrance of the Emperor and Empress the Intendant of the Theatre in full uniform comes to the front of the box and taps loudly three times on the floor with his wand of office, and at once that queer gabbling jargon of incoherent sound which rises from a crowd of people talking together is suddenly hushed into a complete silence, in which Their Majesties with their guests slowly advance, bow to the audience and take their places. I invariably received a ticket for a stage box on these occasions, the best possible place for an uninterrupted view of the house. From this point of vantage at different times I saw many notable royal personalities, among others the late King Edward with Queen Alexandra, who visited Berlin the year before the King’s death. The performance on these occasions was always short and not too absorbing, and on King Edward’s visit the spectacular play of _Sardanapalus_ was given, which strictly speaking is hardly to be classed with opera at all, consisting as it does of a series of splendid pictures interspersed with songs. The last scene of all is a very realistic and vivid representation of the funeral pyre of Sardanapalus, whither slaves bring all the treasures of the house to be consumed by the fire, which, beginning with little licking tongues of flame, soon spreads to a wide and vivid blaze, in which Sardanapalus and all his household perish. At the moment before the curtain finally descends the whole stage has the appearance of a glowing furnace threaded with leaping flames and rolling billows of smoke. King Edward, being very tired with his hard day’s work in Berlin, had indulged in a short nap during the scene, and woke to consciousness at the moment of most intense conflagration, when he was for a few moments much excited and alarmed, believing that the fire was real and wondering why the firemen stationed at the wings had not yet become active. With some difficulty the Empress managed to convince him that there was no danger. CHAPTER V CHRISTMAS AT COURT