divorce is not an American invention,—not because she was guilty but because she was accused of guilt. "Cæsar's wife," he said, "must be above suspicion." He pronounced publicly, contrary to custom, heartrending panegyrics over his next two wives, then retired with his varied wedlock experiences into well-earned freedom, where he remained, with the exception of a few lapses, during the remainder of his life.
We have wondered why Balzac in his book, "The Petty Annoyances of Married Life," did not mention Cæsar among his illustrations, with his varied nuptial experiences and personal knowledge of the subject of "how to be happy though married." If he had included him among his examples of gracious submission to petty domestic annoyances he would, we imagine, have shown the justice of adding at least another leaf to the laurel crown that covered the bald head of our hero. It would be of interest, too, to know with what degree of tolerance his various wives regarded his convulsions, and how the community regarded them,—what effect, for instance, Cæsar's last fit in the presence of his delegates was likely to have on the coming election. If at a public gathering in ancient Rome a man happened to have a convulsion, no matter how important the meeting, it was immediately dispersed. And how were his soldiers affected by their commander's having a seizure at the beginning of a campaign, at the end of a battle, or while making love, after the pagan custom of the period, to a brand-new sweetheart?
