As the Partian war was the most important of the three, Verus was sent to quell it, and but for the ability of his generals—­the greatest of whom was Avidius Cassius—­would have ruined irretrievably the fortunes of the Empire.  These generals, however, vindicated the majesty of the Roman name, and Verus returned in triumph, bringing back with him from the East the seeds of a terrible pestilence which devastated the whole Empire and by which, on the outbreak of fresh wars, Verus himself was carried off at Aquileia.

Worthless as he was, Marcus, who in his lifetime had so often pardoned and concealed his faults, paid him the highest honours of sepulcre, and interred his ashes in the mausoleum of Hadrian.  There were not wanting some who charged him with the guilt of fratricide, asserting that the death of Verus had been hastened by his means!

I have only one reason for alluding to atrocious and contemptible calumnies like these, and that is because—­since no doubt such whispers reached his ears—­they help to account for that deep unutterable melancholy which breathes through the little golden book of the Emperor’s Meditations.  We find, for instance, among them this isolated fragment:—­

“A black character, a womanish character, a stubborn character, bestial, childish, animal, stupid, counterfeit, scurrilous, fraudulent, tyrannical.”

We know not of whom he was thinking—­perhaps of Nero, perhaps of Caligula, but undoubtedly also of men whom he had seen and known, and whose very existence darkened his soul.  The same sad spirit breathes also through the following passages:—­

“Soon, very soon, thou wilt be ashes, or a skeleton, and either a name, or not even a name; but name is sound and echo.  And the things which are much valued in life are empty, and rotten, and trifling, and little dogs biting one another, and little children quarrelling, laughing, and then straightway weeping.  But fidelity, and modesty, and justice, and truth are fled

     “‘Up to Olympus from the wide-spread earth.’”

(v. 33.)

“It would be a man’s happiest lot to depart from mankind without having had a taste of lying, and hypocrisy, and luxury, and pride.  However to breathe out one’s life when a man has had enough of those things is the next best voyage, as the saying is.” (ix. 2.)

“Enough of this wretched life, and murmuring, and apish trifles. Why art thou thus disturbed?  What is there new in this?  What unsettles thee?...  Towards the gods, then, now become at last more simple and better.” (ix. 37.) The thought is like that which dominates through the Penitential Psalms of David,—­that we may take refuge from men, their malignity and their meanness, and find rest for our souls in God.  From men David has no hope; mockery, treachery, injustice, are all that he expects from them,—­the bitterness of his enemies, the far-off indifference of his friends.  Nor does this greatly trouble him, so long as he does not wholly lose the light of God’s countenance.  “I had no place to flee unto, and no man cared for my soul.  I cried unto thee, O Lord, and said, Thou art my hope, and my portion in the land of the living.”  “Cast me not away from Thy presence, and take not Thy Holy Spirit from me.”