THE intelligence of the melancholy end of Gallus soon reached Augustus, and made the stronger impression on him, from several influential voices having been already raised in disapproval of the senate's premature and severe decree, and expressing doubts as to the sincerity of his accusers. Now that Gallus himself had decided matters in such a way as allowed of no recal or mitigation of his sentence, and that the emperor had no longer any anxiety for his own safety, the consciousness of great injustice having been committed, took its place. When a true version of what had passed at the house of Lentulus got abroad, and it became by degrees established that Gallus was much less guilty than had been supposed, and that he had fallen a victim to an intrigue, which the hostilely-disposed senate had embraced as a welcome opportunity for his destruction, Augustus loudly lamented the fate, which robbed him alone, among all men, of the liberty of being angry with his friends, according to his own measure and will. He firmly renounced the decree which made him master over the property of Gallus, and ordained that whatever disposition might have been previously made, should have full effect. The senate, with the same alacrity that they had entertained the accusation, now proceeded to declare that all guilt had been effaced by his death, and that nothing should stand in the way of an honourable funeral.