whole life was a tacit condemnation of Cæsar, and his voluntary martyrdom was a keenly felt reprobation of the Dictator and all his works. Cæsar pursued him even in his grave with a lampoon.
Cato's obstinacy, his narrowness, and his irapracticability will find ample illustration in the following pages, and I need not dwell on them here. But we must not forget the other side of the picture. In an age of the most unbridled license of speech, an age which would have been inclined to leave, "not even Lancelot brave or Galahad pure," the character of Cato stood alike above censure and above eulogy.[1] The common sense of the Romans recognised in him a man over whose actions corrupt or self-seeking motives had no power, and whose sole thought was of duty. He became to them a sort of embodiment of the public conscience; "to earn the approval of Cato," was a synonym for pure and righteous action. Rome was the better for having a living standard of integrity set before her eyes. An advocate, though he might quake at the thought of having him for a juror, hesitated to challenge Cato, for such a challenge seemed an acknowledgment that his case was a bad one. In the year 54 B.C. certain candidates for the tribuneship, who wished for once to have a pure election, agreed each of them to deposit a large sum with Cato, which the depositor was to forfeit if his proceedings seemed to Cato deserving of blame; "if," exclaims Cicero,[2] "there is really no bribery this
