From noon of that day the whole city was in a ferment, preparing for the
entry on the morrow of our new Emperor. This was acclaimed the most
magnificent spectacle ever beheld in Rome; certainly I was never spectator
of anything so impressive. The day was fair, almost cloudless, mild and
warm, but pleasant with a gentle breeze. From where Falco and I viewed the
procession, nearer the Forum, we gazed about on a wondrous picture: the
blue sky above, under it a frame of roofs, mostly of red tiles, some of
green weathered bronze among them giving variety, and here and there a
temple roof of silver gleaming in the sun, not a few gilded and flashing.
As far as we could see about us every balcony was hung with tapestries gay
with particolored patterns, every doorway and window was wreathed in
flowers, countless braziers sent up columns of scented smoke. The streets
were lined with throngs habited in togas newly whitened; spectators of
both sexes, the men in white togas, their women in the brightest silks,
crowded every window, loggia, balcony, roof, and other viewpoint. The
chattering of the crowds ceased when the head of the procession appeared,
and, in a breathless hush, we saw leading it on horseback, with two
mounted aides, Flavius Juvenalis, who had been third and last Prefect of
the Praetorium to Julianus and who, as an honorable gentleman and loyal
official, had been confirmed and continued in this post by Severus.
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