THE END OF CLEOPATRA.
Infatuation of Antony.--His early character--Powerful influence of
Cleopatra over Antony,--Indignation at Antony's conduct.--Plans of
Cleopatra.--Antony becomes a misanthrope.--His hut on the island of
Pharos--Antony's reconciliation with Cleopatra.--Scenes of
revelry.--Cleopatra makes a collection of poisons.--Her experiments with
them.--Antony's suspicions.--Cleopatra's stratagem.--The bite of the
asp.--Cleopatra's tomb.--Progress of Octavius.--Proposal of
Antony.--Octavius at Pelusium.--Cleopatra's treasures.--Fears of
Octavius.--He arrives at Alexandria.--The sally.--The unfaithful
captain.--Disaffection of Antony's men.--Desertion of the fleet.--False
rumor of Cleopatra's death.--Antony's despair.--Eros.--Antony's attempt
to kill himself.--Antony taken to Cleopatra.--She refuses to open the
door.--Antony taken in at the window.--Cleopatra's grief.--Death of
Antony.--Cleopatra made prisoner.--Treatment of Cleopatra.--Octavius
takes possession of Alexandria.--Antony's funeral.--Cleopatra's wretched
condition.--Cleopatra's wounds and bruises.--She resolves to starve
herself.--Threats of Octavius.--Their effect.--Octavius visits
Cleopatra.--Her wretched condition.--The false inventory.--Cleopatra in
a rage.--Octavius deceived.--Cleopatra's determination.--Cleopatra
visits Antony's tomb.--Her composure on her return.--Cleopatra's
supper.--The basket of figs.--Cleopatra's letter to Octavius.--She is
found dead.--Death of Charmion.--Amazement of the by-standers.--Various
conjectures as to the cause of Cleopatra's death.--Opinion of
Octavius.--His triumph.
The case of Mark Antony affords one of the most extraordinary examples
of the power of unlawful love to lead its deluded and infatuated victim
into the very jaws of open and recognized destruction that history
records. Cases similar in character occur by thousands in common life;
but Antony's, though perhaps not more striking in itself than a great
multitude of others have been, is the most conspicuous instance that has
ever been held up to the observation of mankind.
In early life, Antony was remarkable, as we have already seen, for a
certain savage ruggedness of character, and for a stern and indomitable
recklessness of will, so great that it seemed impossible that any thing
human should be able to tame him. He was under the control, too, of an
ambition so lofty and aspiring that it appeared to know no bounds; and
yet we find him taken possession of, in the very midst of his career,
and in the height of his prosperity and success, by a woman, and so
subdued by her arts and fascinations as to yield himself wholly to her
guidance, and allow himself to be led about by her entirely at her will.
She displaces whatever there might have been that was noble and generous
in his heart, and substitutes therefor her own principles of malice and
cruelty. She extinguishes all the fires of his ambition, originally so
magnificent in its aims that the world seemed hardly large enough to
afford it scope, and instead of this lofty passion, fills his soul with
a love of the lowest, vilest, and most ignoble pleasures. She leads him
to betray every public trust, to alienate from himself all the
affections of his countrymen, to repel most cruelly the kindness and
devotedness of a beautiful and faithful wife, and, finally to expel this
wife and all of his own legitimate family from his house; and now, at
last, she conducts him away in a most cowardly and ignoble flight from
the field of his duty as a soldier--he knowing, all the time, that she
is hurrying him to disgrace and destruction, and yet utterly without
power to break from the control of his invisible chains.
The indignation which Antony's base abandonment of his fleet and army at
the battle of Actium excited, over all that part of the empire which had
been under his command, was extreme. There was not the slightest
possible excuse for such a flight. His army, in which his greatest
strength lay, remained unharmed, and even his fleet was not defeated.
The ships continued the combat until night, notwithstanding the betrayal
of their cause by their commander. They were at length, however,
subdued. The army, also, being discouraged, and losing all motive for
resistance, yielded too. In a very short time the whole country went
over to Octavius's side.
In the mean time, Cleopatra and Antony, on their first return to Egypt,
were completely beside themselves with terror. Cleopatra formed a plan
for having all the treasures that she could save, and a certain number
of galleys sufficient for the transportation of these treasures and a
small company of friends, carried across the isthmus of Suez and
launched upon the Red Sea, in order that she might escape in that
direction, and find some remote hiding-place and safe retreat on the
shores of Arabia or India, beyond the reach of Octavius's dreaded power.
She actually commenced this undertaking, and sent one or two of her
galleys across the isthmus; but the Arabs seized them as soon as they
reached their place of destination, and killed or captured the men that
had them in charge, so that this desperate scheme was soon abandoned.
She and Antony then finally concluded to establish themselves at
Alexandria, and made preparation, as well as they could, for defending
themselves against Octavius there.
Antony, when the first effects of his panic subsided, began to grow mad
with vexation and resentment against all mankind. He determined that he
would have nothing to do with Cleopatra or with any of her friends, but
went off in a fit of sullen rage, and built a hermitage in a lonely
place, on the island of Pharos, where he lived for a time, cursing his
folly and his wretched fate, and uttering the bitterest invectives
against all who had been concerned in it. Here tidings came continually
in, informing him of the defection of one after another of his armies,
of the fall of his provinces in Greece and Asia Minor, and of the
irresistible progress which Octavius was now making toward universal
dominion. The tidings of these disasters coming incessantly upon him
kept him in a continual fever of resentment and rage.
At last he became tired of his misanthropic solitude, a sort of
reconciliation ensued between himself and Cleopatra, and he went back
again to the city. Here he joined himself once more to Cleopatra, and,
collecting together what remained of their joint resources, they plunged
again into a life of dissipation and vice, with the vain attempt to
drown in mirth and wine the bitter regrets and the anxious forebodings
which filled their souls. They joined with them a company of revelers as
abandoned as themselves, and strove very hard to disguise and conceal
their cares in their forced and unnatural gayety. They could not,
however, accomplish this purpose. Octavius was gradually advancing in
his progress, and they knew very well that the time of his dreadful
reckoning with them must soon come; nor was there any place on earth in
which they could look with any hope of finding a refuge in it from his
vindictive hostility.
Cleopatra, warned by dreadful presentiments of what would probably at
last be her fate, amused herself in studying the nature of poisons--not
theoretically, but practically--making experiments with them on wretched
prisoners and captives whom she compelled to take them in order that she
and Antony might see the effects which they produced. She made a
collection of all the poisons which she could procure, and administered
portions of them all, that she might see which were sudden and which
were slow in their effects, and also learn which produced the greatest
distress and suffering, and which, on the other hand, only benumbed and
stupefied the faculties, and thus extinguished life with the least
infliction of pain. These experiments were not confined to such
vegetable and mineral poisons as could be mingled with the food or
administered in a potion. Cleopatra took an equal interest in the
effects of the bite of venomous serpents and reptiles. She procured
specimens of all these animals, and tried them upon her prisoners,
causing the men to be stung and bitten by them, and then watching the
effects. These investigations were made, not directly with a view to any
practical use, which she was to make of the knowledge thus acquired, but
rather as an agreeable occupation, to divert her mind, and to amuse
Antony and her guests. The variety in the forms and expressions which
the agony of her poisoned victims assumed,--their writhings, their
cries, their convulsions, and the distortions of their features when
struggling with death, furnished exactly the kind and degree of
excitement which she needed to occupy and amuse her mind.
[Illustration: CLEOPATRA TESTING THE POISONS UPON THE SLAVES]
Antony was not entirely at ease, however, during the progress
of these terrible experiments. His foolish and childish fondness
for Cleopatra was mingled with jealousy, suspicion, and distrust;
and he was so afraid that Cleopatra might secretly poison him,
that he would never take any food or wine without requiring that she
should taste it before him. At length, one day, Cleopatra caused the
petals of some flowers to be poisoned, and then had the flowers woven
into the chaplet which Antony was to wear at supper. In the midst of the
feast, she pulled off the leaves of the flowers from her own chaplet and
put them playfully into her wine, and then proposed that Antony should
do the same with his chaplet, and that they should then drink the wine,
tinctured, as it would be, with the color and the perfume of the
flowers. Antony entered very readily into this proposal, and when he was
about to drink the wine, she arrested his hand, and told him that it was
poisoned. "You see now," said she, "how vain it is for you to watch
against me. If it were possible for me to live without you, how easy it
would be for me to devise ways and means to kill you." Then, to prove
that her words were true, she ordered one of the servants to drink
Antony's wine. He did so, and died before their sight in dreadful agony.
The experiments which Cleopatra thus made on the nature and effects of
poison were not, however, wholly without practical result. Cleopatra
learned from them, it is said, that the bite of the asp was the easiest
and least painful mode of death. The effect of the venom of that animal
appeared to her to be the lulling of the sensorium into a lethargy or
stupor, which soon ended in death, without the intervention of pain.
This knowledge she seems to have laid up in her mind for future use.
The thoughts of Cleopatra appear, in fact, to have been much disposed,
at this time, to flow in gloomy channels, for she occupied herself a
great deal in building for herself a sepulchral monument in a certain
sacred portion of the city. This monument had, in fact, been commenced
many years ago, in accordance with a custom prevailing among Egyptian
sovereigns, of expending a portion of their revenues during their
life-time in building and decorating their own tombs. Cleopatra now
turned her mind with new interest to her own mausoleum. She finished it,
provided it with the strongest possible bolts and bars, and, in a word,
seemed to be preparing it in all respects for occupation.
In the mean time, Octavius, having made himself master of all the
countries which had formerly been under Antony's sway, now advanced,
meeting none to oppose him, from Asia Minor into Syria, and from Syria
toward Egypt. Antony and Cleopatra made one attempt, while he was thus
advancing toward Alexandria, to avert the storm which was impending over
them, by sending an embassage to ask for some terms of peace. Antony
proposed, in this embassage, to give up every thing to his conqueror on
condition that he might be permitted to retire unmolested with Cleopatra
to Athens, and allowed to spend the remainder of their days there in
peace; and that the kingdom of Egypt might descend to their children.
Octavius replied that he could not make any terms with Antony, though he
was willing to consent to any thing that was reasonable in behalf of
Cleopatra. The messenger who came back from Octavius with this reply
spent some time in private interviews with Cleopatra. This aroused
Antony's jealousy and anger. He accordingly ordered the unfortunate
messenger to be scourged and then sent back to Octavius, all lacerated
with wounds, with orders to say to Octavius that if it displeased him to
have one of his servants thus punished, he might revenge himself by
scourging a servant of Antony's who was then, as it happened, in
Octavius's power.
The news at length suddenly arrived at Alexandria that Octavius had
appeared before Pelusium, and that the city had fallen into his hands.
The next thing Antony and Cleopatra well knew would be, that they should
see him at the gates of Alexandria. Neither Antony nor Cleopatra had any
means of resisting his progress, and there was no place to which they
could fly. Nothing was to be done but to await, in consternation and
terror, the sure and inevitable doom which was now so near.
Cleopatra gathered together all her treasures and sent them to her tomb.
These treasures consisted of great and valuable stores of gold, silver,
precious stones, garments of the highest cost, and weapons, and vessels
of exquisite workmanship and great value, the hereditary possessions of
the Egyptian kings. She also sent to the mausoleum an immense quantity
of flax, tow, torches, and other combustibles. These she stored in the
lower apartments of the monument, with the desperate determination of
burning herself and her treasures together rather than to fall into the
hands of the Romans.
In the mean time, the army of Octavius steadily continued its march
across the desert from Pelusium to Alexandria. On the way, Octavius
learned, through the agents in communication with him from within the
city what were the arrangements which Cleopatra had made for the
destruction of her treasure whenever the danger should become imminent
of its falling into his hands. He was extremely unwilling that this
treasure should be lost. Besides its intrinsic value, it was an object
of immense importance to him to get possession of it for the purpose of
carrying it to Rome as a trophy of his triumph. He accordingly sent
secret messengers to Cleopatra, endeavoring to separate her from Antony,
and to infuse her mind with the profession that he felt only friendship
for her, and did not mean to do her any injury, being in pursuit of
Antony only. These negotiations were continued from day to day while
Octavius was advancing. At last the Roman army reached Alexandria, and
invested it on every side.
As soon as Octavius was established in his camp under the walls of the
city, Antony planned a sally, and he executed it, in fact, with
considerable energy and success. He issued suddenly from the gates, at
the head of as strong a force as he could command, and attacked a body
of Octavius's horsemen. He succeeded in driving these horsemen away from
their position, but he was soon driven back in his turn, and compelled
to retreat to the city, fighting as he fled, to beat back his pursuers.
He was extremely elated at the success of this skirmish. He came to
Cleopatra with a countenance full of animation and pleasure, took her in
his arms and kissed her, all accoutered for battle as he was, and
boasted greatly of the exploit which he had performed. He praised, too,
in the highest terms, the valor of one of the officers who had gone out
with him to the fight, and whom he had now brought to the palace to
present to Cleopatra. Cleopatra rewarded the faithful captain's prowess
with a magnificent suit of armor made of gold. Notwithstanding this
reward, however, the man deserted Antony that very night, and went over
to the enemy. Almost all of Antony's adherents were in the same state of
mind. They would have gladly gone over to the camp of Octavius, if they
could have found an opportunity to do so.
In fact, when the final battle was fought, the fate of it was decided by
a grand defection in the fleet, which went over in a body to the side of
Octavius. Antony was planning the operations of the day, and
reconnoitering the movements of the enemy from an eminence which he
occupied at the head of a body of foot soldiers--all the land forces
that now remained to him--and looking off, from the eminence on which he
stood, toward the harbor, he observed a movement among the galleys. They
were going out to meet the ships of Octavius, which were lying at anchor
not very far from them. Antony supposed that his vessels were going to
attack those of the enemy, and he looked to see what exploits they would
perform. They advanced toward Octavius's ships, and when they met them,
Antony observed, to his utter amazement, that, instead of the furious
combat that he had expected to see, the ships only exchanged friendly
salutations, by the use of the customary naval signals; and then his
ships, passing quietly round, took their positions in the lines of the
other fleet. The two fleets had thus become merged and mingled into one.
Antony immediately decided that this was Cleopatra's treason. She had
made peace with Octavius, he thought, and surrendered the fleet to him
as one of the conditions of it. Antony ran through the city, crying out
that he was betrayed, and in a frensy of rage sought the palace.
Cleopatra fled to her tomb. She took in with her one or two attendants,
and bolted and barred the doors, securing the fastenings with the heavy
catches and springs that she had previously made ready. She then
directed her women to call out through the door that she had killed
herself within the tomb.
The tidings of her death were borne to Antony. It changed his anger to
grief and despair. His mind, in fact, was now wholly lost to all balance
and control, and it passed from the dominion of one stormy passion to
another with the most capricious facility. He cried out with the most
bitter expressions of sorrow, mourning, he said, not so much Cleopatra's
death, for he should soon follow and join her, as the fact that she had
proved herself so superior to him in courage at last, in having thus
anticipated him in the work of self-destruction.
He was at this time in one of the chambers of the palace, whither he had
fled in despair, and was standing by a fire, for the morning was cold.
He had a favorite servant named Eros, whom he greatly trusted, and whom
he had made to take an oath long before, that whenever it should become
necessary for him to die, Eros should kill him. This Eros he now called
to him, and telling him that the time was come, ordered him to take the
sword and strike the blow.
Eros took the sword while Antony stood up before him. Eros turned his
head aside as if wishing that his eyes should not see the deed which his
hands were about to perform. Instead, however, of piercing his master
with it, he plunged it into his own breast, fell down at Antony's feet,
and died.
Antony gazed a moment at the shocking spectacle, and then said, "I thank
thee for this, noble Eros. Thou hast set me an example. I must do for
myself what thou couldst not do for me." So saying, he took the sword
from his servant's hands, plunged it into his body, and staggering to a
little bed that was near, fell over upon it in a swoon. He had received
a mortal wound.
The pressure, however, which was produced by the position in which he
lay upon the bed, stanched the wound a little, and stopped the flow of
blood. Antony came presently to himself again, and then began to beg and
implore those around him to take the sword and put him out of his
misery. But no one would do it. He lay for a time suffering great pain,
and moaning incessantly, until, at length, an officer came into the
apartment and told him that the story which he had heard of Cleopatra's
death was not true; that she was still alive, shut up in her monument,
and that she desired to see him there. This intelligence was the source
of new excitement and agitation. Antony implored the by-standers to
carry him to Cleopatra, that he might see her once more before he died.
They shrank from the attempt; but, after some hesitation and delay, they
concluded to undertake to remove him. So, taking him in their arms, they
bore him along, faint and dying, and marking their track with his blood,
toward the tomb.
Cleopatra would not open the gates to let the party in. The city was all
in uproar and confusion through the terror of the assault which Octavius
was making upon it, and she did not know what treachery might be
intended. She therefore went up to a window above, and letting down
ropes and chains, she directed those below to fasten the dying body to
them, that she and the two women with her might draw it up. This was
done. Those who witnessed it said that it was a most piteous sight to
behold,--Cleopatra and her women above exhausting their strength in
drawing the wounded and bleeding sufferer up the wall, while he, when he
approached the window, feebly raised his arms to them, that they might
lift him in. The women had hardly strength sufficient to draw the body
up. At one time it seemed that the attempt would have to be abandoned;
but Cleopatra reached down from the window as far as she could to get
hold of Antony's arms, and thus, by dint of great effort, they succeeded
at last in taking him in. They bore him to a couch which was in the
upper room from which the window opened, and laid him down, while
Cleopatra wrung her hands and tore her hair, and uttered the most
piercing lamentations and cries. She leaned over the dying Antony,
crying out incessantly with the most piteous exclamations of grief. She
bathed his face, which was covered with blood, and vainly endeavored to
stanch his wound.
Antony urged her to be calm, and not to mourn his fate. He asked for
some wine. They brought it to him and he drank it. He then entreated
Cleopatra to save her life, if she possibly could do so, and to make
some terms or other with Octavius, so as to continue to live. Very soon
after this he expired.
In the mean time, Octavius had heard of the mortal wound which Antony
had given himself; for one of the by-standers had seized the sword the
moment that the deed was done, and had hastened to carry it to Octavius,
and to announce to him the death of his enemy. Octavius immediately
desired to get Cleopatra into his power. He sent a messenger, therefore,
to the tomb, who attempted to open a parley there with her. Cleopatra
talked with the messenger through the keyholes or crevices, but could
not be induced to open the door. The messenger reported these facts to
Octavius. Octavius then sent another man with the messenger, and while
one was engaging the attention of Cleopatra and her women at the door
below, the other obtained ladders, and succeeded in gaining admission
into the window above. Cleopatra was warned of the success of this
stratagem by the shrieks of her women, who saw the officer coming down
the stairs. She looked around, and observing at a glance that she was
betrayed, and that the officer was coming to seize her, she drew a
little dagger from her robe, and was about to plunge it into her breast,
when the officer grasped her arm just in time to prevent the blow. He
took the dagger from her, and then examined her clothes to see that
there were no other secret weapons concealed there.
The capture of the queen being reported to Octavius, he appointed an
officer to take her into close custody. This officer was charged to
treat her with all possible courtesy, but to keep a close and constant
watch over her, and particularly to guard against allowing her any
possible means or opportunity for self-destruction.
In the mean time, Octavius took formal possession of the city, marching
in at the head of his troops with the most imposing pomp and parade. A
chair of state, magnificently decorated, was set up for him on a high
elevation in a public square; and here he sat, with circles of guards
around him, while the people of the city, assembled before him in the
dress of suppliants, and kneeling upon the pavement, begged his
forgiveness, and implored him to spare the city. These petitions the
great conqueror graciously condescended to grant.
Many of the princes and generals who had served under Antony came next
to beg the body of their commander, that they might give it an honorable
burial. These requests, however, Octavius would not accede to, saying
that he could not take the body away from Cleopatra. He, however, gave
Cleopatra leave to make such arrangements for the obsequies as she
thought fit, and allowed her to appropriate such sums of money from her
treasures for this purpose as she desired. Cleopatra accordingly made
the necessary arrangements, and superintended the execution of them;
not, however, with any degree of calmness and composure, but in a state,
on the contrary, of extreme agitation and distress. In fact, she had
been living now so long under the unlimited and unrestrained dominion of
caprice and passion, that reason was pretty effectually dethroned, and
all self-control was gone. She was now nearly forty years of age, and,
though traces of her inexpressible beauty remained, her bloom was faded,
and her countenance was wan with the effects of weeping, anxiety, and
despair. She was, in a word, both in body and mind, only the wreck and
ruin of what she once had been.
When the burial ceremonies were performed, and she found that all was
over--that Antony was forever gone, and she herself hopelessly and
irremediably ruined--she gave herself up to a perfect frensy of grief.
She beat her breast, and scratched and tore her flesh so dreadfully, in
the vain efforts which she made to kill herself, in the paroxysms of her
despair, that she was soon covered with contusions and wounds, which,
becoming inflamed and swelled, made her a shocking spectacle to see, and
threw her into a fever. She then conceived the idea of pretending to be
more sick than she was, and so refusing food and starving herself to
death. She attempted to execute this design. She rejected every medical
remedy that was offered her, and would not eat, and lived thus some days
without food. Octavius, to whom every thing relating to his captive was
minutely reported by her attendants, suspected her design. He was very
unwilling that she should die, having set his heart on exhibiting her to
the Roman people, on his return to the capital, in his triumphal
procession. He accordingly sent her orders, requiring that she should
submit to the treatment prescribed by the physician, and take her food,
enforcing these his commands with a certain threat which he imagined
might have some influence over her. And what threat does the reader
imagine could possibly be devised to reach a mind so sunk, so desperate,
so wretched as hers? Every thing seemed already lost but life, and life
was only an insupportable burden. What interests, then, had she still
remaining upon which a threat could take hold?
Octavius, in looking for some avenue by which he could reach her,
reflected that she was a mother. Caesarion, the son of Julius Caesar, and
Alexander, Cleopatra, and Ptolemy, Antony's children, were still alive.
Octavius imagined that in the secret recesses of her wrecked and ruined
soul there might be some lingering principle of maternal affection
remaining which he could goad into life and action. He accordingly sent
word to her that, if she did not yield to the physician and take her
food, he would kill every one of her children.
The threat produced its effect. The crazed and frantic patient became
calm. She received her food. She submitted to the physician. Under his
treatment her wounds began to heal, the fever was allayed, and at length
she appeared to be gradually recovering.
When Octavius learned that Cleopatra had become composed, and seemed to
be in some sense convalescent, he resolved to pay her a visit. As he
entered the room where she was confined, which seems to have been still
the upper chamber of her tomb, he found her lying on a low and miserable
bed, in a most wretched condition, and exhibiting such a spectacle of
disease and wretchedness that he was shocked at beholding her. She
appeared, in fact, almost wholly bereft of reason. When Octavius came
in, she suddenly leaped out of the bed, half naked as she was, and
covered with bruises and wounds, and crawled miserably along to her
conqueror's feet in the attitude of a suppliant. Her hair was torn from
her head, her limbs were swollen and disfigured, and great bandages
appeared here and there, indicating that there were still worse injuries
than these concealed. From the midst of all this squalidness and misery
there still beamed from her sunken eyes a great portion of their former
beauty, and her voice still possessed the same inexpressible charm that
had characterized it so strongly in the days of her prime. Octavius made
her go back to her bed again and lie down.
Cleopatra then began to talk and excuse herself for what she had done,
attributing all the blame of her conduct to Antony. Octavius, however,
interrupted her, and defended Antony from her criminations, saying to
her that it was not his fault so much as hers. She then suddenly changed
her tone, and acknowledging her sins, piteously implored mercy. She
begged Octavius to pardon and spare her, as if now she were afraid of
death and dreaded it, instead of desiring it as a boon. In a word, her
mind, the victim and the prey alternately of the most dissimilar and
inconsistent passions, was now overcome by fear. To propitiate Octavius,
she brought out a list of all her private treasures, and delivered it to
him as a complete inventory of all that she had. One of her treasurers,
however, named Zeleucus, who was standing by, said to Octavius that that
list was not complete. Cleopatra had, he alleged, reserved several
things of great value, which she had not put down upon it.
This assertion, thus suddenly exposing her duplicity, threw Cleopatra
into a violent rage. She sprang from her bed and assaulted her secretary
in a most furious manner. Octavius and the others who were here
interposed, and compelled Cleopatra to lie down again, which she did,
uttering all the time the most grievous complaints at the wretched
degradation to which she was reduced, to be insulted thus by her own
servant at such a time. If she had reserved any thing, she said, of her
private treasures, it was only for presents to some of her faithful
friends, to induce them the more zealously to intercede with Octavius in
her behalf. Octavius replied by urging her to feel no concern on the
subject whatever. He freely gave her, he said, all that she had
reserved, and he promised in other respects to treat her in the most
honorable and courteous manner.
Octavius was much pleased at the result of this interview. It was
obvious, as it appeared to him, that Cleopatra had ceased to desire to
die; that she now, on the contrary, wished to live, and that he should
accordingly succeed in his desire of taking her with him to grace his
triumph at Rome. He accordingly made his arrangements for departure, and
Cleopatra was notified that in three days she was to set out, together
with her children, to go into Syria. Octavius said Syria, as he did not
wish to alarm Cleopatra by speaking of Rome. She, however, understood
well where the journey, if once commenced, would necessarily end, and
she was fully determined in her own mind that she would never go there.
She asked to be allowed to pay one parting visit to Antony's tomb. This
request was granted; and she went to the tomb with a few attendants,
carrying with her chaplets and garlands of flowers. At the tomb her
grief broke forth anew, and was as violent as ever. She bewailed her
lover's death with loud cries and lamentations, uttered while she was
placing the garlands upon the tomb, and offering the oblations and
incense, which were customary in those days, as expressions of grief.
"These," said she, as she made the offerings, "are the last tributes of
affection that I can ever pay thee, my dearest, dearest lord. I can not
join thee, for I am a captive and a prisoner, and they will not let me
die. They watch me every hour, and are going to bear me far away, to
exhibit me to thine enemies, as a badge and trophy of their triumph over
thee. Oh intercede, dearest Antony, with the gods where thou art now,
since those that reign here on earth have utterly forsaken me; implore
them to save me from this fate, and let me die here in my native land,
and be buried by thy side in this tomb."
When Cleopatra returned to her apartment again after this melancholy
ceremony, she seemed to be more composed than she had been before. She
went to the bath, and then she attired herself handsomely for supper.
She had ordered supper that night to be very sumptuously served. She was
at liberty to make these arrangements, for the restrictions upon her
movements, which had been imposed at first, were now removed, her
appearance and demeanor having been for some time such as to lead
Octavius to suppose that there was no longer any danger that she would
attempt self-destruction. Her entertainment was arranged, therefore,
according to her directions, in a manner corresponding with the customs
of her court when she had been a queen. She had many attendants, and
among them were two of her own women. These women were long-tried and
faithful servants and friends.
While she was at supper, a man came to the door with a basket, and
wished to enter. The guards asked him what he had in his basket. He
opened it to let them see; and, lifting up some green leaves which were
laid over the top, he showed the soldiers that the basket was filled
with figs. He said that they were for Cleopatra's supper. The soldiers
admired the appearance of the figs, saying that they were very fine and
beautiful. The man asked the soldiers to take some of them. This they
declined, but allowed the man to pass in. When the supper was ended,
Cleopatra sent all of her attendants away except the two women. They
remained. After a little time, one of these women came out with a letter
for Octavius, which Cleopatra had written, and which she wished to have
immediately delivered. One of the soldiers from the guard stationed at
the gates was accordingly dispatched to carry the letter. Octavius, when
it was given to him, opened the envelope at once and read the letter,
which was written, as was customary in those days, on a small tablet of
metal. He found that it was a brief but urgent petition from Cleopatra,
written evidently in agitation and excitement, praying that he would
overlook her offense, and allow her to be buried with Antony. Octavius
immediately inferred that she had destroyed herself. He sent off some
messengers at once, with orders to go directly to her place of
confinement and ascertain the truth, intending to follow them himself
immediately.
The messengers, on their arrival at the gates, found the sentinels and
soldiers quietly on guard before the door, as if all were well. On
entering Cleopatra's room, however, they beheld a shocking spectacle.
Cleopatra was lying dead upon a couch. One of her women was upon the
floor, dead too. The other, whose name was Charmian, was sitting over
the body of her mistress, fondly caressing her, arranging flowers in her
hair, and adorning her diadem. The messengers of Octavius, on witnessing
this spectacle, were overcome with amazement, and demanded of Charmian
what it could mean. "It is all right," said Charmian. "Cleopatra has
acted in a manner worthy of a princess descended from so noble a line of
kings." As Charmian said this, she began to sink herself, fainting, upon
the bed, and almost immediately expired.
The by-standers were not only shocked at the spectacle which was thus
presented before them, but they were perplexed and confounded in their
attempts to discover by what means Cleopatra and her women had succeeded
in effecting their design. They examined the bodies, but no marks of
violence were to be discovered. They looked all around the room, but no
weapons, and no indication of any means of poison, were to be found.
They discovered something that appeared like the slimy track of an
animal on the wall, toward a window, which they thought might have been
produced by an _asp_; but the reptile itself was nowhere to be seen.
They examined the body with great care, but no marks of any bite or
sting were to be found, except that there were two very slight and
scarcely discernible punctures on the arm, which some persons fancied
might have been so caused. The means and manner of her death seemed to
be involved in impenetrable mystery.
There were various rumors on the subject subsequently in circulation
both at Alexandria and at Rome, though the mystery was never fully
solved. Some said that there was an asp concealed among the figs which
the servant man brought in in the basket; that he brought it in that
manner, by a preconcerted arrangement between him and Cleopatra, and
that, when she received it, she placed the creature on her arm. Others
say that she had a small steel instrument like a needle, with a poisoned
point, which she had kept concealed in her hair, and that she killed
herself with that, without producing any visible wound. Another story
was, that she had an asp in a box somewhere in her apartment, which she
had reserved for this occasion, and when the time finally came, that she
pricked and teased it with a golden bodkin to make it angry, and then
placed it upon her flesh and received its sting. Which of these stories,
if either of them, was true, could never be known. It has, however, been
generally believed among mankind that Cleopatra died in some way or
other by the self-inflicted sting of the asp, and paintings and
sculptures without number have been made to illustrate and commemorate
the scene.
This supposition in respect to the mode of her death is, in fact,
confirmed by the action of Octavius himself on his return to Rome, which
furnishes a strong indication of his opinion of the manner in which his
captive at last eluded him. Disappointed in not being able to exhibit
the queen herself in his triumphal train, he caused a golden statue
representing her to be made, with an image of an asp upon the arm of it,
and this sculpture he caused to be borne conspicuously before him in his
grand triumphal entry into the capital, as the token and trophy of the
final downfall of the unhappy Egyptian queen.