his having been deceived by Faustina.  The latter, who was a daughter of Antoninus Pius, seeing that her husband had fallen ill, and expecting that he might die at any moment, was afraid that the imperial office might revert to some outsider and she be left in private life; for Commodus was both young and rather callow, besides.  So she secretly induced Cassius to make preparations to the end that if anything should happen to Antoninus he might take both her and the sovereignty. [Sidenote:—­23—­] Now while he was in this frame of mind, a message came that Marcus was dead (in such circumstances reports always make matters worse than they really are) and immediately, without waiting to confirm the rumor, he laid claim to the empire on the ground that it had been bestowed upon him by the soldiers at this time quartered in Pannonia.  And in spite of the fact that before long he learned the truth, nevertheless, since he had once made a move, he would not change his attitude but speedily won over the whole district bounded by the Taurus, and was making preparations to maintain his ascendancy by war.  Marcus, on being informed of his uprising by Verus, the governor of Cappadocia, for a time concealed it; but, as the soldiers were being mightily disturbed by the reports and were doing a deal of talking, he called them together and read an address of the following nature: 

[Sidenote:—­24—­] “Fellow-soldiers, I have not come before you to express indignation, nor yet in a spirit of lamentation.  Why rage against Fate, that is all-powerful?  But perchance it is needful to bewail the lot of those who are undeservedly unfortunate, a lot which is now mine.  Is it not afflicting for us to meet war after war?  Is it not absurd to be involved in civil conflict?  Are not both these conditions surpassed in affliction and in absurdity by the proof before us that there is naught to be trusted among mankind, since I have been plotted against by my dearest friend and have been thrust into a conflict against my will, though I have committed no crime nor even error?  What virtue, what friendship shall henceforth be deemed secure after this experience of mine?  Has not faith, has not hope perished?  If the danger were mine alone, I should give the matter no heed,—­I was not born to be immortal,—­but since there has been a public secession (or rather obsession) and war is fastening its clutches upon all of us alike, I should desire, were it possible, to invite Cassius here and argue the case with him in your presence or in the presence of the senate; and I would gladly, without a contest, withdraw from my office in his favor, if this seemed to be for the public advantage.  For it is on behalf of the public that I continue to toil and undergo dangers and have spent so much time yonder outside of Italy, during mature manhood and now in old age and weakness, though I can not take food without pain nor get sleep free from anxiety.