because unable to endure Cæsar's victory._
Besides Lucretia, of whom enough has already been said, our advocates
of suicide have some difficulty in finding any other prescriptive
example, unless it be that of Cato, who killed himself at Utica. His
example is appealed to, not because he was the only man who did so,
but because he was so esteemed as a learned and excellent man, that
it could plausibly be maintained that what he did was and is a good
thing to do. But of this action of his, what can I say but that his
own friends, enlightened men as he, prudently dissuaded him, and
therefore judged his act to be that of a feeble rather than a strong
spirit, and dictated not by honourable feeling forestalling shame,
but by weakness shrinking from hardships? Indeed, Cato condemns
himself by the advice he gave to his dearly loved son. For if it
was a disgrace to live under Cæsar's rule, why did the father urge
the son to this disgrace, by encouraging him to trust absolutely to
Cæsar's generosity? Why did he not persuade him to die along with
himself? If Torquatus was applauded for putting his son to death,
when contrary to orders he had engaged, and engaged successfully,
with the enemy, why did conquered Cato spare his conquered son,
though he did not spare himself? Was it more disgraceful to be a
victor contrary to orders, than to submit to a victor contrary to the
received ideas of honour? Cato, then, cannot have deemed it to be
shameful to live under Cæsar's rule, for had he done so, the father's
sword would have delivered his son from this disgrace. The truth
is, that his son, whom he both hoped and desired would be spared by
Cæsar, was not more loved by him than Cæsar was envied the glory of
pardoning him (as indeed Cæsar himself is reported to have said[74]);
or if envy is too strong a word, let us say he was _ashamed_ that
this glory should be his.