Amongst this party, it
happened that there were a few Roman trumpeters. From one of these,
the phantom, rising as they advanced nearer, suddenly caught a
trumpet, and blowing through it a blast of superhuman strength,
plunged into the Rubicon--passed to the other bank--and disappeared in
the dusky twilight of the dawn. Upon which Caesar exclaimed:--"It is
finished: the die is cast: let us follow whither the guiding portents
from heaven, and the malice of our enemy alike summon us to go." So
saying, he crossed the river with impetuosity; and in a sudden rapture
of passionate and vindictive ambition, placed himself and his retinue
upon the Italian soil; and as if by inspiration from Heaven, in one
moment involved himself and his followers in treason, raised the
standard of revolt, put his foot upon the neck of the invincible
republic which had humbled all the kings of the earth, and founded an
empire which was to last for a thousand and half a thousand years. In
what manner this spectral appearance was managed--whether Caesar were
its author, or its dupe, will remain unknown forever. But undoubtedly
this was the first time that the advanced guard of a victorious army
was headed by an apparition; and we may conjecture that it will be the
last.
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