Piso was an energetic man. Confident in the justice of his case, he reappeared in the Senate when, after the lapse of six days, the sessions again began; and defended himself in a clever, energetic, and resolute speech. He seems to have been especially happy in the way in which he shattered the charge of poisoning. He demanded that his own slaves, and those belonging to Germanicus who had been present at the famous banquet at which it was suggested that he had put poison in the dead man’s wine, should be put to the torture. The speech made a lively impression, and would probably have saved Piso, had not serious disorders broken out in Rome while he was speaking in the Senate. An immense popular demonstration invaded the precincts of the Senate, while he was speaking, howling for his execution, and crying that, if the Senate acquitted him, they had serious thoughts of avenging Germanicus by lynching the judges. A section burst into the Forum, overturned the statues, and made as if to drag them away to the Gemoniæ and to break them in pieces. It was found necessary to send Piso to his house with an escort of soldiers, in order to save him from violence. What was the origin of these demonstrations? Were they the natural explosion of popular passion, fed by the ready credulity of the masses? Were they stirred up by the enemies of Tiberius and Piso, to impress the hesitating section of the Senate? We shall never know. All that is certain is that, by the evening of the day on which these demonstrations took place, nobody in Rome, least of all the accused, was any longer under the delusion that Piso could be acquitted of the charge, however absurd and unjust it might be. The Senate, weakened by so many internal dissensions and by so many civil wars, was no longer a strong enough assembly to dare resist this mad fury on the part of the masses. By evening, Piso had lost all heart and had already made up his mind to give up the struggle. But his sons gathered round him and put into him fresh courage. Renewed efforts were made to induce Tiberius to oppose his authority to the torrent of calumny and insensate hate. Had Tiberius left room for one glimmer of light? or did Piso’s sons and friends delude themselves and delude him? It is certain that next day Piso again plucked up courage and returned to the Senate, where he continued his defence, parrying and countering fresh attacks, with his eyes ever fixed on Tiberius, the man who more than anyone else was persuaded of his innocence, and from whom a word might be so useful to him. Tiberius, however, did not dare pronounce that word. Surrounded as he was by so many enemies and suspicions, not even he—the lord of the world, as the historians call him—felt himself strong enough to engage in open duel with the public opinion of Rome and the majority in the Senate. So, when he perceived that Tiberius himself could not or would not help him, Piso abandoned the struggle. Returning home that evening,