It may be asked how does he appear in the intimacies of private life, to the inner circle of his Court, to those who see him in unguarded moments? Men often change for the better, or sometimes for the worse, when they retire from the public eye. But the Emperor is much the same everywhere, he has no special reserves of character for domestic consumption only. At home he inspires much the same charm that he does abroad, and sometimes the same irritation. Unexpected people, whimsical people, are necessarily alternately irritating and charming just as their moods happen to please or displease the circle of people whom they affect. He is a man who is bound to get somewhat on the nerves of those who surround him, to make his service laborious to his servants, his secretaries, his courtiers, who live in a state of continual apprehension, fearing that they may not be ready for some sudden call, some unanticipated duty. There is no more alert place in the world than the Prussian Court. “We are like the Israelites at the Passover,” grumbled one lady: “we must always have our loins girt, our shoes on our feet--shoes suitable for any and every occasion, fit for walking on palace floors or down muddy roads--our staff in our hand; nobody dare relax and settle down to be comfortable.” The Emperor disapproves of people who want to settle down and be comfortable. In a jolly, good-humoured but none the less autocratic kind of way, he sets everybody doing something. He likes to keep things moving, has no desire for the humdrum, the usual, the everlasting sameness of things. No one who knows the Emperor intimately can fail to see how early English influences have helped to mould his character, how intensely he loves and admires English life as apart from English politics, for which he has a perplexed, irritated wonderment and contempt. “Not one of your Ministers,” he said to me on one occasion, “can tell how many ships of the line you have in your navy. I can tell him--he can’t tell me. And your Minister of War can’t even ride: I offered him a mount and every opportunity to see the manœuvres--‘Thanks very much for your Majesty’s gracious offer--Sorry can’t accept it--I’m no horseman unfortunately.’ A Minister of War!--and can’t ride! Unthinkable!” He gave his short, sharp laugh. But life as lived in the English country-side has for him irresistible charms.