Thus the days went happily at Lorium in the companionship of Pius, itself “a school of all the virtues.” For twenty-three years Marcus studied in this school, but like all good things this sweet discipleship too had an end. In A.D. 161 Antoninus died a death as peaceful as his life had been. Feeling the end nigh he put his affairs in order and commanded that the golden statue of Fortune, the symbol of Empire, which had ever to stand in the Emperor’s state apartments, should be borne to Marcus’ chamber. To the tribune on duty he gave the password _Æquanimitas_ (peace of soul) as the watchword of the night,--the night of his own soul; then turning about, he seemed to fall asleep: his own peaceful spirit had passed away; “κατ’ἰσὸν ὑπνῷ μαλακωτάτῳ as if in gentlest sleep.” The sceptre passed into the hands of Marcus, then forty years of age. For him it was the beginning of sorrows. Æschylus would have said that the gods were jealous of his too great prosperity. In his private life they were good to him on account of his virtues, but it were unmeet that with such virtues mortal man should join the sovereignty of the world; for such a one might justly claim more homage than the questionable individuals who inhabited Olympus with the title of “gods.” The lot of men also had been too happy in the Golden Age of the Antonines: it would exceed all measure were Marcus, the ideal philosopher-king, to rule with such favour from above as his predecessors had enjoyed. So might Æschylus have prophesied truly after the event, as is the way with moralists. Thenceforth the glory of that age waned. To the philosopher by nature had succeeded the philosopher by reflection. We shall see the result of the change. CHAPTER III A PHILOSOPHER ON THE THRONE