German writers, commenting on the turn of the century, claim to discover a change in the Emperor's character about this period. He has lost much of his imaginative, his Lohengrin, vein, and has become more practical, more prosaic and matter-of-fact. To use the German word, he is now a _Realpolitiker_, one who deals in things, not words or theories, and drawing his gaze from the stars makes them dwell more attentively on the immediate practical considerations of the world about him. His nature has not changed, of course, nor his manner, but he has begun to see that he must employ means and ways different from those he employed previously. He has not become a Bismarck, for he still pursues his aims more in the spirit of the colonel of a regiment leading his men to the attack with banners flying, drums beating, swords rattling in their scabbards and mailed gauntlets held threateningly aloft, than in that of the cool and calculating politician ruminating in his closet on the tactics of his opponents, and deliberating how best to meet and confound them; but he gives more thought to what is going on about him, to party politics, to the economic necessities of the hour, and to modern science and its inventions. What strikes the Englishman perhaps as much as anything in the Emperor's character at this time is the Cromwellian trait in it. This is a side of his Protean nature which never seems to have been adequately recognized in England, yet in a singularly baffling character-composition it is one of the fundamental elements. The view of Prussian monarchy, inherited from one Hohenzollern to another for generation after generation, that the race of people to which he belonged (with any other race he could include by conquest in it) has been handed over by Heaven for all eternity to his family, naturally predisposes him to take a religious, a patriarchal, one might say an Hebraic, view of government; but in addition we find the warrior spirit at all times going hand in hand with the religious spirit, almost as strongly as in the case of Mahomet with the Koran in one hand and the sword in the other. There was nothing in the Emperor's youth to show the existence of deeply religious conviction, but as soon as he mounted the throne, and all through the reign up to the close of the century, indeed some years beyond it, his speeches, especially when he was addressing his soldiery, were filled with expressions of religious fervour. "Von Gotten Gnaden," he writes as a preface for a Leipzig publication appearing on January 1, 1900,