He was seated at a large table covered with documents and parchments of every description, and had evidently been dictating to his secretary, who left the room on the other side as I entered. He is very like his pictures, which, however, do not give one any idea of his short-sighted, dreamy eyes, nor of his intensely good-humoured and humorous expression. He has a kind of way of looking up at one in a half-appealing fashion, as much as to say “For Heaven’s sake don’t think that I take all this business seriously.” His movements are quick but not jerky. He held in his hand a chain of amber beads which he kept on absent-mindedly fingering during the whole interview. His fingers are short, square, and rather fat. He spoke Greek, which he speaks very purely indeed and without any Latin accent. Indeed, he speaks it too well. He asked me whether I was enjoying my visit to Rome, how long it was since I had been here, what I thought of the improvements, and if I had been to the new theatre. I said I had not been to the theatre, but that I was told the games in the Circus were extremely well worth seeing. The Emperor laughed and shrugged his shoulders, and said that it was very civil of me to say so, since I knew quite well that those spectacles, although hugely enjoyed by the ignorant rabble, were singularly tedious to people of taste and education like myself. I bowed as he made this compliment. As for himself, he continued, the games frankly bored him to death, but, of course, it was a State duty for him to attend them. “It is part of my profession,” he said, “but if I had my own way I should witness nothing but Greek plays acted by my own company in my own house.” He asked after several of my relatives whom he had met in Greece, remembering their exact names and occupations. He asked me if I had been writing anything lately, and when I said that I was sick of books and intended henceforth to devote all my leisure to seeing people and studying them, he laughed. “Nothing is so discouraging,” he said, “as trying to improve the literary taste in this city. We are an admirable people; we do a great many things much better than other people--I do not mean only our colonization”--he said smiling--“and our foreign trade, but our portrait painting and our popular farce. But as a general rule directly we touch Art we seem to go altogether wrong, and the result is nauseous. Therefore, if you want to find a Roman who will be thoroughly sympathetic, capable, and intelligent, and decent, choose one who knows nothing about Art and does not want to. With you it is different,” he added, “Athens is a city of artists.” He then changed the subject and referred to the rather bitter criticisms published at Athens about his policy with regard to the Jews, especially that new sect among them who called themselves Christians.