CLEOPATRA AND ANTONY IN ALEXANDRIA.
There can be little doubt that Antony was extremely anxious to form
a solid alliance with Cleopatra at this juncture, for he needed just
such an ally for the schemes which he had in view. His relations with
Octavian were strained, and the insignificant part played by the latter
in the operations which culminated at Philippi had led him to feel some
contempt for the young man’s abilities. The Triumvirate was, at best,
a compromise; and Antony had no expectation that it would for one day
outlive the acquisition either by Octavian or himself of preponderant
power. At the back of his mind he hoped for the fall of Cæsar’s nephew;
and he saw in the alliance with Cleopatra the means whereby he could
obtain a numerical advantage over his rival.
After the battle of Philippi Octavian had returned to Rome, and
Antony now received news that the troops under their joint command
were highly dissatisfied with the rewards which they had received
for their labours. There was considerable friction between those who
were loyal to Octavian and those who thought that Antony would treat
them more generously; and the latter’s agents in Rome, notably his
wife Fulvia, were endeavouring to widen the breach, more probably
of their own accord than with their leader’s direct consent. Antony
had no wish to break with Octavian until he could feel confident of
success; and, moreover, his attention was directed at this time more
keenly to the question of the conquest of Parthia than to that of the
destruction of Octavian. The great Dictator had stirred his imagination
in regard to the Parthians, and possibly the project of the invasion
of India was already exercising his mind, as it certainly did in later
years.[89] His plans therefore, in broad outline, now seem to have been
grouped into three movements: firstly, the formation of an offensive
and defensive alliance with Cleopatra, in order that her money, men,
and ships might be placed at his disposal; secondly, the invasion
of Parthia, so that the glory of his victories and the loot of the
conquered country might raise his prestige to the highest point; and
thirdly, the picking of a quarrel with Octavian, in order that he might
sweep him from the face of the earth, thereby leaving himself ruler
of the world. Then, like Cæsar, he would probably proclaim himself
King, would marry Cleopatra, and would establish a royal dynasty, his
successor being either his stepson, the Dictator’s child, or the future
son of his marriage with the Queen of Egypt should their union be
fruitful.
Filled with these hopes, which corresponded so closely to those of
Cleopatra, Antony prepared to go to Alexandria in the autumn of the
year B.C. 41, intent on sealing the alliance with the Queen of Egypt.
He arranged for a certain Decidius Saxa, one of the late Dictator’s
chosen generals, to be placed in command of the forces in Syria; and
it was this officer’s duty to keep him informed of the movements of
the Parthians, and to prepare for the coming campaign against them.
The King of Parthia, Orodes by name, had engaged the services of a
Roman renegade named Quintus Labienus, a former colleague of Cassius
and Brutus; and this man was now working in conjunction with Pacorus,
the King’s son, in organising the Parthian armies and preparing them
for an offensive movement against the neighbouring Roman provinces.
There seemed thus to be no doubt that war would speedily break out, and
Antony was therefore very anxious to put himself in possession of the
Egyptian military and naval resources as quickly as possible.
[Illustration:
_Vatican._] [_Photograph by Anderson._
OCTAVIAN.]
He was about to set sail for Alexandria when news seems to have reached
him that the troubles in Rome were coming to a head, and that his
brother Lucius Antonius, and his wife Fulvia, were preparing to attack
Octavian. He must therefore have hesitated in deciding whether he
should return to Rome or not. He must have been considerably annoyed
at the turn which events had taken, for he knew well enough that he
was not then in a position to wage a successful war against Octavian;
and he was much afraid of being involved in a contest which would
probably lead to his own downfall. If he returned to Italy it was
possible that he might be able to patch up the quarrel, and to effect
a reconciliation which should keep the world at peace until the time
when he himself desired war. But if he failed in his pacific efforts,
a conflict would ensue for which he was not prepared. It seems to me,
therefore, that he thought it more desirable that he should keep clear
of the quarrel, and should show himself to be absorbed in eastern
questions. By going over to Egypt for a few weeks, not only would
he detach himself from the embarrassing tactics of his party in Rome,
but he would also raise forces and money, nominally for his Parthian
campaign, which would be of immense service to him should Octavian
press the quarrel to a conclusive issue. Moreover, there can be little
question that to Antony the thought of meeting his stern wife again
and of being obliged to live once more under her powerful scrutiny
was very distasteful; whereas, on the other hand, he looked forward
with youthful enthusiasm to a repetition of the charming entertainment
provided by Cleopatra. Antony was no great statesman or diplomatist;
and jolly overgrown boy that he was, his effective actions were at all
times largely dictated by his pleasurable desires. The Queen of Egypt
had made a most disconcerting appeal to that spontaneous nature, which,
in matters of this kind, required little encouragement from without;
and now the fact that it seemed wise at the time to keep away from Rome
served as full warrant for the manœuvre which his ambition and his
heart jointly urged upon him.
Early in the winter of B.C. 41, therefore, he made his way to
Alexandria, and was received by Cleopatra into the beautiful Lochias
Palace as a most profoundly honoured guest. All the resources of that
sumptuous establishment were concerted for his amusement, and it was
not long before the affairs of the Roman world were relegated to the
back of his genial mind. In the case of Cleopatra, however, there was
no such laxity. The Queen’s ambitions, fired by Cæsar, had been stirred
into renewed flame by her success at Tarsus; and she was determined
to make Antony the champion of her cause. From the moment when she
had realised his pliability and his susceptibility to her overtures,
she had made up her mind to join forces with him in an attempt upon
the throne of the Roman Empire; and it was now her business both
to fascinate him by her personal charms and, by the nature of her
entertainments, to demonstrate to him her wealth and power.
“It would be trifling without end,” says Plutarch, “to give a
particular account of Antony’s follies at Alexandria.” For several
weeks he gave himself up to amusements of the most frivolous character,
and to the enjoyment of a life more luxurious than any he had ever
known. His own family had been simple in their style of living, and
although he had taught himself much in this regard, and had expended a
great deal of money on lavish entertainments, there were no means of
obtaining in Rome a splendour which could compare with the magnificence
of these Alexandrian festivities. His friends, too, many of whom were
common actresses and comedians, had not been brilliant tutors in the
arts of entertainment; nor had they encouraged him to provide them so
much with refined luxury as with good strong drink and jovial company.
Now, however, in Cleopatra’s palace, Antony found himself surrounded on
all sides by the devices and appliances of the most advanced culture of
the age; and an appeal was made to his senses which would have put the
efforts even of the extravagant Lucullus to shame. Alexandria has been
called “the Paris of the ancient world,”[90] and it is not difficult to
understand the glamour which it cast upon the imagination of the lusty
Roman, who, for the first time in his life, found himself surrounded by
a group of cultured men and women highly practised in the art of living
sumptuously. Moreover, he was received by Cleopatra as prospective
lord of all he surveyed, for the Queen seems to have shown him quite
clearly that all these things would be his if he would but cast in his
lot with her.
Antony quickly adapted his manners to those of the Alexandrians.
He set aside his Roman dress and clothed himself in the square-cut
Greek costume, putting upon his feet the white Attic shoes known as
_phæcasium_. He seems to have spoken the Greek language well; and he
now made himself diplomatically agreeable to the Grecian nobles who
frequented the court. He constantly visited the meeting-places of
learned men, spending much time in the temples and in the Museum; and
thereby he won for himself an assured position in the brilliant society
of the Queen’s Alexandrian court, which, in spite of its devotion to
the pleasant follies of civilisation, prided itself upon its culture
and learning.
Meanwhile he did not hesitate to endear himself by every means in his
power to Cleopatra. He knew that she desired him, for dynastic reasons,
to become her legal husband, and that there was no other man in the
world, from her point of view, so suitable for the position of her
consort. He knew, also, that as a young “widow,” whose first union had
been so short-lived, Cleopatra was eagerly desirous of a satisfactory
marriage which should give her the comfort of a strong companion upon
whom to lean in her many hours of anxiety, and an ardent lover to whom
she could turn in her loneliness. He knew that she was attracted by
his herculean strength and brave appearance; and it must have been
apparent to him from the first that he could without much exertion win
her devotion almost as easily as the great Cæsar had done. The Queen
was young, passionate, and exceedingly lonely; and it did not require
any keen perception on his part to show him how great was her need,
both for political and for personal reasons, of a reliable marriage.
He therefore paid court to his hostess with confidence; and it was not
long before she surrendered herself to him with all the eagerness and
whole-hearted interest of her warm, impulsive nature.
The union was at once sanctioned by the court and the priesthood, and
was converted in Egypt into as legal a marriage as that with Cæsar had
been. There can be little doubt that Cleopatra obtained from him some
sort of promise that he would not desert her; and at this time she must
have felt herself able to trust him as implicitly as she had trusted
the great Dictator. Cæsar had not played her false; he had taken her to
Rome and had made no secret of his intention to raise her to the throne
by his side. In like manner she believed that Antony, virtually Cæsar’s
successor, would create an empire over which they should jointly rule;
and she must have rejoiced in her successful capture of his heart,
whereby she had obtained both a good-natured, handsome lover and a bold
political champion.
In the union between these two powerful personages the historian
may thus see both a diplomatic and a romantic amalgamation. Neither
Cleopatra nor Antony seem to me yet to have been very deeply in love,
but I fancy each was stirred by the attractions of the other, and
each believed for the moment that the gods had provided the mate so
long awaited. Cleopatra with her dainty beauty, and Antony with his
magnificent physique, must have appeared to be admirably matched by
Nature; while their royal and famous destinies could not, in the eyes
of the material world, have been more closely allied.
We have seen how Antony allowed his more refined instincts full play
in Alexandria, and how, in order to win the Queen’s admiration, he
showed himself devoted to the society of learned men. In like manner
Cleopatra gave full vent to the more frivolous side of her nature, in
order to render herself attractive to her Roman comrade, whose boyish
love of tomfoolery was so pronounced. Sometimes in the darkness of
the night, as we have already seen, she would dress herself in the
clothes of a peasant woman, and disguising Antony in the garments
of a slave, she would lead him through the streets of the city in
search of adventure. They would knock ominously at the doors or
windows of unknown houses, and disappear like ghosts when they were
opened. Occasionally, of course, they were caught by the doorkeepers
or servants, and, as Plutarch says, “were very scurvily answered and
sometimes even beaten severely, though most people guessed who they
were.”
Cleopatra provided all manner of amusements for her companion. She
would ride and hunt with him in the desert beyond the city walls,
boat and fish with him on the sea or the Mareotic Lake, romp with
him through the halls of the Palace, watch him wrestle, fence, and
exercise himself in arms, play dice with him, drink with him, and
fascinate him by the arts of love. The following story presents a
characteristic picture of the jovial life led by them in Alexandria
during this memorable winter. Antony had been fishing from one of the
vessels in the harbour; but, failing to make any catches, he employed
a diver to descend into the water and to attach newly-caught fishes
to his hook, which he then landed amidst the applause of Cleopatra
and her friends. The Queen, however, soon guessed what was happening,
and at once invited a number of persons to come on the next day to
witness Antony’s dexterity. She then procured some preserved fish
which had come from the Black Sea, and instructed a slave to dive
under the vessel and to attach one to the hook as soon as it should
strike the water. This having been done, Antony drew to the surface the
salted fish, the appearance of which was greeted with hearty laughter;
whereupon Cleopatra, turning to the discomfited angler, tactfully said,
“Leave the fishing-rod, general, to us poor sovereigns of Pharos and
Canopus: _your_ game is cities, provinces, and kingdoms.”
During this winter Antony and the Queen together founded a kind of
society or club which they named the _Amimetobioi_, or Inimitable
Livers, the members of which entertained one another in turn each day
in the most extravagant manner. Antony, it would seem probable, was
the president of this society; and two inscriptions have been found in
which he is named “The Inimitable,” perhaps not without reference to
this office. A story told by a certain Philotas, a medical student at
that time residing in Alexandria, will best illustrate the prodigality
of the feasts provided by the members of this club. Philotas was one
day visiting the kitchens of Cleopatra’s palace, and was surprised to
see no less than eight wild boars roasting whole. “You evidently have
a great number of guests to-day,” he said to the cook; to which the
latter replied, “No, there are not above twelve to dine, but the meat
has to be served up just roasted to a turn: and maybe Antony will wish
to dine now, maybe not for an hour; yet if anything is even one minute
ill-timed it will be spoilt, so that not one but many meals must be in
readiness, as it is impossible to guess at his dining-hour.”
As an example of the food served at these Alexandrian banquets, I
may be permitted to give a list of the dishes provided some years
previously at a dinner given in Rome by Mucius Lentulus Niger, at which
Julius Cæsar had been one of the guests; but it is to be remembered
that Cleopatra’s feasts are thought to have been far more prodigious
than any known in Rome. The _menu_ is as follows: Sea-hedgehogs;
oysters; mussels; sphondyli; fieldfares with asparagus; fattened fowls;
oyster and mussel pasties; black and white sea-acorns; sphondyli again;
glycimarides; sea-nettles; becaficoes; roe-ribs; boar’s ribs; fowls
dressed with flour; becaficoes again; purple shell-fish of two kinds;
sow’s udder; boar’s head; fish pasties; ducks; boiled teals; hares;
roasted fowls; starch-pastry; and Pontic pastry. Varro, in one of his
satires, mentions some of the most noted foreign delicacies which were
to be found upon the tables of the rich. These include peacocks from
Samos; grouse from Phrygia; cranes from Melos; kids from Ambracia;
tunny-fish from Chalcedon; murænas from the Straits of Gades; ass-fish
from Pessinus; oysters and scallops from Tarentum; sturgeons from
Rhodes; scarus-fish from Cilicia; nuts from Thasos; and acorns from
Spain. The vegetables then known included most of those now eaten, with
the notable exception, of course, of potatoes.[91] The main meal of
the day, the _cœna_, was often prolonged into a drinking party, known
as _commissatio_, at which an _Arbiter bibendi_, or Master of Revels,
was appointed by the throwing of dice, whose duty it was to mix the
wine in a large bowl. The diners lay upon couches usually arranged
round three sides of the table, and they ate their food with their
fingers. Chaplets of flowers were placed upon their heads, cinnamon
was sprinkled upon the hair, and sweet perfumes were thrown upon their
bodies, and sometimes even mixed with the wines. During the meals
the guests were entertained by the performances of dancing-girls,
musicians, actors, acrobats, clowns, dwarfs, or even gladiators; and
afterwards dice-throwing and other games of chance were indulged in.
The decoration of the rooms and the splendour of the furniture and
plate were always very carefully considered, Cleopatra’s banquets being
specially noteworthy for the magnificence of the table services. These
dishes and drinking-vessels, which the Queen was wont modestly to
describe as her _Kerama_ or “earthenware,” were usually made of gold
and silver encrusted with precious stones; and so famous were they for
their beauty of workmanship that three centuries later they formed
still a standard of perfection, Queen Zenobia of Palmyra being related
to have collected them eagerly for her own use.
Thus, with feasting, merry-making, and amusements of all kinds,
the winter slipped by. To a large extent Plutarch is justified in
stating that in Alexandria Antony “squandered that most costly of all
valuables, time”; but the months were not altogether wasted. He and
Cleopatra had cemented their alliance by living together in the most
intimate relations; and both now thought it probable that when the time
came for the attempted overthrow of Octavian they would fight their
battle side by side. By becoming Cleopatra’s lover, and by appealing to
the purely instinctive side of her nature, Antony had obtained from her
the whole-hearted promise of Egypt’s support in all his undertakings;
and these happy winter months in Alexandria could not have seemed to
him to be wasted when each day the powerful young Queen come to be more
completely at his beck and call. The course of Cleopatra’s love for
Antony seems to have followed almost precisely the same lines as had
her love for Julius Cæsar. Inspired at first by a political motive,
she had come to feel a genuine and romantic affection for her Roman
consort; and the intimacies which ensued, though largely due to the
weaknesses of the flesh, seemed to find full justification in the fact
that her dynastic ambitions were furthered by this means. Cleopatra
thought of Antony as her husband, and she wished to be regarded as
his wife. The fact that no public marriage had taken place was of
little consequence; for she, as goddess and Queen, must have felt
herself exempt from the common law, and at perfect liberty to contract
whatever union seemed desirable to her for the good of her country and
dynasty, and for the satisfaction of her own womanly instincts. Early
in the year B.C. 40 she and Antony became aware that their union was
to be fruitful; and this fact must have made Cleopatra more than ever
anxious to keep Antony in Alexandria with her, and to bind him to her
by causing him to be recognised as her consort. He was not willing,
however, to assume the rank and status of King of Egypt; for such a
move would inevitably precipitate the quarrel with Octavian, and he
would then be obliged to stake all on an immediate war with the faction
which would assuredly come to be recognised as the legitimate Roman
party. This unwillingness on his part to bind himself to her must
have caused her some misgiving; and, as the winter drew to a close, I
think that the Queen must have felt somewhat apprehensive in regard to
Antony’s sincerity.
Setting aside all sentimental factors in the situation, and leaving out
of consideration for the moment all physical causes of the alliance,
it will be seen that Antony’s position was now more satisfactory than
was that of the often sorely perplexed Queen. By spending the winter at
Alexandria the Roman Triumvir had kept himself aloof from the political
troubles in Italy at a time when his presence at home might have
complicated matters to his own disadvantage; he had obtained the full
support of Egyptian wealth and Egyptian arms should he require them;
and he had prepared the way for a definite marriage with Cleopatra at
the moment when he should desire her partnership in the foundation of
a great monarchy such as that for which Julius Cæsar had striven. He
had not yet irrevocably compromised himself, and he was free to return
to his Roman order of life with superficially clean hands. Nobody in
Rome would think the less of him for having combined a certain amount
of pleasure with the obvious business which had called him to Egypt;
and his friends would certainly be as easily persuaded to accept the
political excuses which he would advance for his lengthy residence in
Alexandria as the Cæsarian party had been to admit those put forward
by the great Dictator under very similar circumstances. Like Julius
Cæsar and like Pompey, Antony was certainly justified in making himself
the patron of the wealthy Egyptian court; and all Roman statesmen were
aware how desirable it was at this juncture for a party leader to
cement an alliance with the powerful Queen of that country.
On the part of Cleopatra, however, the circumstances were far less
happy. She had staked all on the alliance with Antony--her personal
honour and prestige as well as her dynasty’s future; and in return
for her great gifts she must have been beginning to feel that
she had received nothing save vague promises and unsatisfactory
assurances. Without Antony’s help not only would she lose all hope
of an Egypto-Roman throne for herself and her son Cæsarion, but she
would inevitably fail to keep Egypt from absorption into the Roman
dominions. There were only two mighty leaders at that time in the
Roman world--Octavian and Antony; and Octavian was her relentless
enemy, for the reason that her son Cæsarion was his rival in the
claim on the Dictator’s worldly and political estate. Failing the
support of Antony there were no means of retaining her country’s
liberty, except perhaps by the desperate eventuality of some sort
of alliance with Parthia. It must have occurred to her that Egypt,
with its growing trade with southern India, might join forces with
Parthia, whose influence in northern India must have been great, and
might thus effect an amalgamation of nations hostile to Rome, which
in a vast semicircle should include Egypt, Ethiopia, Arabia, Persia,
India, Scythia, Parthia, Armenia, Syria, and perhaps Asia Minor. Such
a combination might be expected to sweep Rome from the face of the
earth; but the difficulties in the way of the huge union were almost
insuperable, and the alliance with Antony was infinitely more tangible.
Yet, towards the end of the winter, she must constantly have asked
herself whether she could trust Antony, to whom she had given so much.
She loved him, she had given herself to him; but she must have known
him to be unreliable, inconsequent, and, in certain aspects, merely an
overgrown boy. The stakes for which she was fighting were so absolutely
essential to herself and to her country: the champion whose services
she had enlisted was so light-hearted, so reluctant to pledge himself.
And now that she was about to bear him a son, and thus to bring before
his wayward notice the grave responsibilities which she felt he had
so flippantly undertaken, would he stand by her as Cæsar had done, or
would he desert her?
Her feelings may be imagined, therefore, when in February B.C. 40,
Antony told her that he had received disconcerting news from Rome and
from Syria, and that he must leave her at once. The news from Rome does
not appear to have been very definite, but it gave him to understand
that his wife and his brother had come to actual blows with Octavian,
and, being worsted, had fled from Italy. From Syria, however, came a
very urgent despatch, in regard to which there could be no doubts.
Some of the Syrian princes whom he had deposed in the previous autumn,
together with Antigonus, whose claims to the throne of Palestine he had
rejected, had made an alliance with the Parthians and were marching
down from the north-east against Decimus Saxa, the governor of Syria.
The Roman forces in that country were few in number, consisting for the
most part of the remnants of the army of Brutus and Cassius; and they
could hardly be expected to put up a good fight against the invaders.
Antony’s own trusted legions were now stationed in Italy, Gaul, and
Macedonia; and there were many grave reasons for their retention in
their present quarters. The situation, therefore, was very serious,
and Antony was obliged to bring his pleasant visit to Alexandria to an
abrupt end. Plutarch describes him as “rousing himself with difficulty
from sleep, and shaking off the fumes of wine” in preparation for his
departure; but I do not think that his winter had been so debauched
as these words suggest. He had combined business and pleasure, as
the saying is, and at times had lost sight of the one in his eager
prosecution of the other; but, looking at the matter purely from a
hygienic point of view, it seems probable that the hunting, riding, and
military exercises of which Plutarch speaks, had kept him in a fairly
healthy condition in spite of the stupendous character of the meals set
before him.
The parting of Antony and Cleopatra early in March must have contained
in it an element of real tragedy. He could not tell what difficulties
were in store for him, and at the moment he had not asked the Queen for
any military help. He must have bade her lie low until he was able to
tell her in what manner she could best help their cause; and thereby
he consigned her to a period of deep anxiety and sustained worry. In
loneliness she would have to face her coming confinement, and, like a
deserted courtesan, would have to nurse a fatherless child. She would
have to hold her throne without the comfort of a husband’s advice; and
in all things she would once more be obliged to live the dreary life of
a solitary unmated Queen. It was a miserable prospect, but, as will be
seen in the following chapter, the actual event proved to be far more
distressing than she had expected; for, as Antony sailed out of the
harbour of Alexandria, and was shut out from sight behind the mighty
tower of Pharos, Cleopatra did not know that she would not see his face
again for four long years.