necessity for leaving Naples; and he returned to Rome, as the historian
says, _praetrepidus_; by which word, however, according to its genuine
classical acceptation, we apprehend is not meant that he was highly
alarmed, but only that he was in a great hurry. That he was not yet under
any real alarm (for he trusted in certain prophecies, which, like those
made to the Scottish tyrant "kept the promise to the ear, but broke it to
the sense,") is pretty evident, from his conduct on reaching the capitol.
For, without any appeal to the senate or the people, but sending out a few
summonses to some men of rank, he held a hasty council, which he speedily
dismissed, and occupied the rest of the day with experiments on certain
musical instruments of recent invention, in which the keys were moved by
hydraulic contrivances. He had come to Rome, it appeared, merely from a
sense of decorum.

Suddenly, however, arrived news, which fell upon him with the force of a
thunderbolt, that the revolt had extended to the Spanish provinces, and
was headed by Galba. He fainted upon hearing this; and falling to the
ground, lay for a long time lifeless, as it seemed, and speechless. Upon
coming to himself again, he tore his robe, struck his forehead, and
exclaimed aloud--that for him all was over. In this agony of mind, it
strikes across the utter darkness of the scene with the sense of a sudden
and cheering flash, recalling to us the possible goodness and fidelity of
human nature--when we read that one humble creature adhered to him, and,
according to her slender means, gave him consolation during these trying
moments; this was the woman who had tended his infant years; and she now
recalled to his remembrance such instances of former princes in adversity,
as appeared fitted to sustain his drooping spirits. It seems, however,
that, according to the general course of violent emotions, the rebound of
high spirits was in proportion to his first despondency. He omitted
nothing of his usual luxury or self-indulgence, and he even found spirits