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,