Cæsar was a turning point in the course of Roman history, a crisis in the history of the world. His labors affected an epoch, and the tragedy of his passing is a memory which can never be relinquished by the human mind. Yet, inasmuch as a man's greatness is always in large measure attributable to the character of the times in which he lives, the same conditions which he seizes to raise himself to the highest position serve also to surround him with other men who approach him in that wisdom strength, and valor which are developed by the common environment. Cæsar was first in a community of heroic souls. Pompey, Mark Antony, Brutus, Cato, and Cassius, all exhibit in their character and their powers a greater or lesser participation in those qualities which made Caesar preëminent. This is none the less true also of the women of the day; the times wrought greatness of soul in them to as liberal a degree as in the men. Hazard, ambition, and high enterprise carried the women of this period far in the development of those qualities which are brought out by such means. Portia, Calpurnia, Fulvia, Julia, and Cornelia were fit companions for their renowned masculine associates. Hence, independent of how little or how much the feminine participants in this great world-drama may appear upon the stage, we may be certain that when they are seen we have before us some of the most remarkable women in history, if for no other reason than that they are connected with the plot of that drama. The attention is naturally first drawn to those women who were most intimately connected with Julius Cæsar. To Aurelia, the daughter of M. Aurelius Cotta, was destined the honor of bringing into the world the man who was to bear one of the three most renowned names in its military history. She lost her husband, Caius Julius, while their son was yet a boy; but, from what is known of her character, it is evident that she was not unequal to the task of superintending alone the completion of young Cæsar's education. It was undoubtedly to her influence that he owed the development of those traits which are most pleasing in his greatness. Tacitus is sufficient authority for this, likening as he does Aurelia to the mother of the Gracchi. She was one of the few surviving representatives of that matronal dignity and virtue which beautified the austerity of the earlier days of the Republic. Her house, small and frugally managed, was situated under the Esquiline and Viminal hills, in that low part of Rome called the Subura. It was not a fashionable quarter; in fact, it was a street of shops and taverns. It resounded with the clamor of traffic and the noise of such broils and revelry as are usual in the vicinity of pothouses. At the top of the street, there was a depressed, open space, called the Lacus Orphei because of a statue of Orpheus which stood there. To this spot, which must have made an admirable playground, Aurelia was in the habit of sending a slave to