THE ALLIANCE RENEWED BETWEEN CLEOPATRA AND ANTONY.
In the autumn of the year B.C. 40, some six months after the departure
of Antony, Cleopatra gave birth to twins, a boy and a girl, whom
she named Alexander Helios and Cleopatra Selene, the Sun and the
Moon. With this event she passes almost entirely from the pages of
history for more than three years, and we hear hardly anything of
her doings until the beginning of B.C. 36. During this time she must
have been considerably occupied in governing her own kingdom and
in watching, with a kind of despair, the complicated events in the
Roman world. Despatches from Europe must have come to her from time
to time telling of the progress of affairs, but almost all the news
which she thus received was disappointing and disconcerting to her;
and one must suppose that she passed these years in very deep sadness
and depression. I do not think that any historian has attempted to
point out to his readers the painful condition of disillusionment in
which the little Queen now found herself. When Antony left her she
must have expected him either to return soon to her, or presently to
send his lieutenants to bring her to him; but the weeks passed and no
such event took place. While she suffered all the misery of lonely
childbirth, her consort was engaged in absorbing affairs in which she
played no immediate part; and it seems certain that in the stress of
his desperate circumstances the inconsequent Antony had put her almost
entirely from his thoughts.
When he left her in the spring of B.C. 40 he sailed straight across the
Mediterranean to Tyre, where he learnt to his dismay that practically
all Syria and Phœnicia had fallen into the hands of the Parthians, and
that there was no chance of resisting their advance successfully with
the troops now holding the few remaining seaport towns. He therefore
hastened with 200 ships by Cyprus and Rhodes to Greece, abandoning
Syria for the time being to the enemy. Arriving at Ephesus, he heard
details of the troubles in Italy; how his supporters had been besieged
by Octavian in Perugia, which had at length been captured; and how
all his friends and relatives had fled from Italy. His wife Fulvia,
he was told, escorted by 3000 cavalry, had sailed from Brundisium for
Greece, and would soon join him there; and his mother, Julia, had fled
to the popular hero, Sextus Pompeius, the outlawed son of the great
Pompey, who had received her very kindly. Thus, not only was Italy shut
to Antony, since Octavian was now sole master of the country, but he
seemed likely also to be turned out of his eastern provinces by the
advance of the Parthians. His position was a desperate one; and he must
now have both reproached himself very deeply for his waste of time in
Alexandria and blamed his relations for their impetuosity in making war
against Octavian.
Towards the end of June Antony arrived in Athens, and there he was
obliged to go through the ordeal of meeting the domineering Fulvia,
of whom he was not a little afraid, more especially in view of his
notorious intrigue with the Queen of Egypt. The ensuing interviews
between them must have been of a very painful character. Fulvia
probably bitterly reproved her errant husband for deserting her and
for remaining so long with Cleopatra, while Antony must have abused
her roundly for making so disastrous a mess of his affairs in Italy.
Ultimately the unfortunate woman seems to have been crushed and
dispirited by Antony’s continued anger; and having fallen ill while
staying at Sicyon, some sixty miles west of Athens, and lacking the
desire to live, she there died in the month of August. Meanwhile
Antony, having made an alliance with Sextus Pompeius, was ravaging
the coasts of Italy in a rather futile attempt to regain some of his
lost prestige; but no sooner was the death of Fulvia announced than he
shifted the entire blame for the war on to his late wife’s shoulders,
and speedily made his peace with Octavian. The two rivals met at
Brundisium in September B.C. 40, and a treaty was made between them by
which the peace of the Roman world was expected to be assured for some
years to come. It was arranged that Octavian should remain autocrat
in Italy, and should hold all the European provinces, including
Dalmatia and Illyria; and that Antony should be master of the East,
his dominions comprising Macedonia, Greece, Bithynia, Asia, Syria,
and Cyrene. The remaining provinces of North Africa, west of Cyrene,
fell to the lot of the third Triumvir, the insignificant Lepidus. This
treaty was sealed by the marriage of Antony with Octavia, the sister
of Octavian, a young woman who had been left a widow some months
previously, and the wedding was celebrated in Rome in October B.C. 40,
the populace showing peculiar pleasure at seeing the two rivals, whose
quarrels had caused such bloodshed and misery, thus fraternising in the
streets of the capital.
The consternation of Cleopatra, when the news of Antony’s marriage
reached her, must have been sad to witness. The twins whom she had
borne to him were but a few weeks old at the time when their father’s
perfidy was thus made known to her; and bitterly must she have chided
herself for ever putting her trust in so unstable a man. It now seemed
to her that he had come to Alexandria as it were to fleece her of her
wealth, and she, falling a victim to his false protestations of love,
had given her all to him, only to be deserted when most she needed him.
With the news of his marriage, her hopes of obtaining a vast kingdom
for herself and for Cæsar’s son were driven from her mind, and her
plans for the future had to be diverted into other directions. She must
have determined at once to give no more assistance to Antony, either in
money or in materials of war; and we have no evidence of any such help
being offered to him in the military operations which ensued during the
next two years. Cleopatra had perhaps known Antony’s new wife in Rome,
and certainly she must have heard much of her charms and her goodness.
Plutarch tells us that Octavia was younger and more beautiful than the
Queen, and one may therefore understand how greatly Cleopatra must have
suffered at this time. Not only was her heart heavy with the thought
of the miscarriage of all her schemes, but her mind it would seem was
aflame with womanly jealousy.
In the following year, B.C. 39, by the force of public opinion,
Sextus Pompeius was admitted to the general peace, the daughter of the
sea-rover marrying Marcellus, the son of Octavian. The agreement was
made at Misenum (not far from Naples), and was celebrated by a banquet
which was given by Sextus Pompeius on board his flag-ship, a galley
of six banks of oars, “the only house,” as the host declared, “that
Pompey is heir to of his father’s.” During the feast the guests drank
heavily, and presently many irresponsible jests began to be made in
regard to Antony and Cleopatra. Antony very naturally was annoyed at
the remarks which were passed, and there seems to have been some danger
of a fracas. Observing this, a pirate-chief named Menas, who was one
of the guests, whispered to Sextus: “Shall I cut the cables and make
you master of the whole Roman Empire?” “Menas,” replied he, after a
moment’s thought, “this might have been done without telling me, but
now we must rest content. I cannot break my word.” Thus Antony was
saved from assassination, and incidentally it may be remarked that had
he been done to death at this time, history would probably have had
to record an alliance between Sextus and Cleopatra directed against
Octavian, which might have been as fruitful of romantic incident as was
the story which has here to be related. We hear vaguely of some sort
of negotiations between Sextus and the Queen, and it is very probable
that with his rise to a position of importance Cleopatra would have
attempted to make an alliance with this son of Egypt’s former patron.
In September B.C. 39, Octavia presented Antony with a daughter who was
called Antonia, and who subsequently became the grandmother of the
Emperor Nero. Shortly after this he took up his quarters at Athens,
where he threw himself as keenly into the life of the Athenians as he
had into that of the Alexandrians. He dressed himself in the Greek
manner, with certain Oriental touches, and it was noticed that he
ceased to take any interest in Roman affairs. He feasted sumptuously,
drank heavily, spent a very great deal of money, and wasted any
amount of time. The habits of the East appealed to him, and in his
administration he adopted the methods sometimes practised by Greeks
in the Orient. He abolished the Roman governorships in many of the
provinces under his control, converting them into vassal kingdoms. Thus
Herod was created King of Judea; Darius, son of Pharnaces, was made
King of Pontus; Amyntas was raised to the throne of Pisidia; Polemo
was given the crown of Lycaonia, and so on. His rule was mild and
kindly, though despotic; and on all sides he was hailed as the jolly
god Dionysos, or Bacchus, come to earth. Like Julius Cæsar, he was
quite willing to accept divinity, and he even went so far as personally
to take the place of the statue of Dionysos in the temple of that
god, and to go through the mystical ceremony of marriage to Athene at
Athens. His popularity was immense, and this assumption of a godhead
was received quite favourably by the Athenians; but when one of his
generals, Ventidius Bassus, who had been sent to check the advance of
the Parthians, returned with the news that he had completely defeated
them, public enthusiasm knew no bounds, and Antony was fêted and
entertained in the most astonishing manner.
The contrast between Antony’s benevolent government of his eastern
provinces and Octavian’s conduct in the west was striking. Octavian was
a curious-tempered man, morose, quietly cruel, and secretly vicious.
So many persons were tortured and crucified by him that he came to be
known as the “Executioner.” His manner was imperturbable and always
controlled in public; but in private life at this time he indulged
in the wildest debauches, gambled, and surrounded himself with the
lowest companions. His rule in Italy in these days constituted a Reign
of Terror; and large numbers of the populace hated the very sight of
him. His appearance was unimposing, for he was somewhat short and was
careless in his deportment; while, although his face was handsome, it
had certain very marked defects. His complexion was very sallow and
unhealthy, his skin being covered with spots, and his teeth were much
decayed; but his eyes were large and remarkably brilliant, a fact of
which he was peculiarly proud. He did not look well groomed or clean,
and he was notably averse to taking a bath, though he did not object
to an occasional steaming, or Turkish bath, as we should now call it.
He was eccentric in his dress, though precise and correct in business
affairs. He disliked the sunshine, and always wore a broad-brimmed
hat to protect his head from its brilliancy; but at the same time he
detested cold weather, and in winter he is said to have worn a thick
toga, at least four tunics, a shirt, and a flannel stomacher, while
his legs and thighs were swathed in yards of warm cloth. In spite of
this he was constantly suffering from colds in his head, and was always
sneezing and snuffling. His liver, too, was generally out of order, a
fact to which perhaps his ill-temper may be attributed. His clothes
were all made at home by his wife and sister, and fitted him badly;
and his light-brown, curly hair always looked unbrushed. He was a poor
general, but an able statesman; and his cold nature, which was lacking
in all ardour as was his personality in all magnetism, caused him to be
better fitted for the office than for the public platform. He was not
what would now be called a gentleman: he was, indeed, very distinctly a
parvenu. His grandfather had been a wealthy money-lender of bourgeois
origin, and his father had raised himself by this ill-gotten wealth to
a position in Roman society, and had married into Cæsar’s family.
These facts were not calculated to give him much of a position in
public esteem: and there was no question at this time that Antony
was the popular hero, while Sextus Pompeius, the former outlaw, was
fast rising in favour. In the spring of B.C. 38 Octavian decided
to make war upon this roving son of the great Pompey, and he asked
Antony to aid him in the undertaking. The latter made some attempt to
prevent the war, but his efforts were not successful. In the following
July, to the delight of a large number of Romans, Octavian was badly
defeated by Sextus; and Cæsar’s nephew thus lost a very considerable
amount of prestige. At about the same time Antony’s reputation made
an equally extensive gain, for in June Ventidius Bassus, acting under
Antony’s directions, again defeated the Parthians, Pacorus, the King’s
son, being killed in the battle. The news stirred the Romans to wild
enthusiasm. At last, after sixteen years, Crassus[92] had been avenged;
and Antony appeared to have put into execution with the utmost ease
the plans of the late Dictator in regard to the Parthians, while, on
the other hand, Octavian, the Dictator’s nephew, had failed even to
suppress the sea-roving Pompeians. A Triumph was decreed both for
Antony and for Ventidius, and before the end of the year this took
place.
In January B.C. 37 the Triumvirate, which had then expired, was renewed
for a period of five years, in spite of a very considerable amount of
friction between the happy-go-lucky Antony and the morose Octavian. At
length these quarrels were patched up by means of an agreement whereby
Antony gave Octavian 130 ships with which to fight Sextus Pompeius, and
Octavian handed over some 21,000 legionaries to Antony for his Parthian
war. In this agreement it will be observed that Antony, in order to
obtain troops, sacrificed the man who had befriended his mother and who
had assisted his cause against Octavian at a time when his fortunes
were at a low ebb; and it must be presumed, therefore, that his desire
to conquer Parthia and to penetrate far into the Orient was now of
such absorbing importance to him that all other considerations were
abrogated by it. Antony, in fact, enthusiastically contemplating an
enlarged eastern empire, desired to have no part in the concerns of the
west; and he cared not one jot what fate awaited his late ally, Sextus,
who, he felt, was certain in any case ultimately to go down before
Octavian. He was beginning, indeed, to trouble himself very little in
regard to Octavian either; for he now seems to have thought that, when
the Orient had been conquered and consolidated, he would probably be
able to capture the Occident also from the cruel hands of his unpopular
rival with little difficulty. Two years previously he had found it
necessary to keep himself on friendly terms with Octavian at all costs,
and for this reason he had abandoned Cleopatra with brutal callousness.
Now, however, his position was such that he was able to defy Cæsar’s
nephew, and the presentation to him of the 130 ships was no more than
a shrewd business deal, whereby he had obtained a new contingent of
troops. One sees that his thoughts were turning once more towards the
Queen of Egypt; and he seems at this time to have recalled to mind both
the pleasure afforded him by her brilliant society and the importance
to himself of the position which she held in eastern affairs. The
Egyptian navy was large and well-equipped, and the deficiency in his
own fleet due to his gift to Octavian might easily be made good by the
Queen.
In the autumn of B.C. 37 these considerations bore their inevitable
fruit. On his way to Corfu, in pursuit of his Parthian schemes, he
came to the conclusion that he would once and for all cut himself off
from Rome until that day when he should return to it as the earth’s
conqueror. He therefore sent his wife Octavia back to Italy, determined
never to see her again; and at the same time he despatched a certain
Fonteius Capito to Alexandria to invite Cleopatra to meet him in Syria.
Octavia was a woman of extreme sweetness, goodness, and domesticity.
Her gentle influence always made for peace; and her invariable good
behaviour and meekness must have almost driven Antony crazy. No doubt
she wanted to make his clothes for him, as she had made those of her
brother; and she seems always to have been anxious to bring before his
notice, in her sweet way, the charms of old-fashioned, respectable,
family life, a condition which absolutely nauseated Antony. She now
accepted her marching orders with a wifely meekness which can hardly
command one’s respect; and in pathetic obedience she returned forthwith
to Rome. I cannot help thinking that if only she had now shown some
spirit, and had been able to substitute energy for sweetness in the
movements of her mind, the history of the period would have been
entirely altered.
It must surely be clear to the impartial reader that Antony’s change of
attitude was due more to political than to romantic considerations.[93]
We have heard so much of the arts of seduction practised by Cleopatra
that it is not easy at first to rid the mind of the traditional
interpretation of this reunion; and we are, at the outset, inclined
to accept Plutarch’s definition of the affair when he tells us that
“Antony’s passion for Cleopatra, which better thoughts had seemed to
have lulled and charmed into oblivion, now gathered strength again,
and broke into flame; and like Plato’s restive and rebellious horse
of the human soul, flinging off all good and wholesome counsel, and
fairly breaking loose, he sent Fonteius Capito to bring her into
Syria.” But it is to be remembered that this “passion” for the Queen
had not been strong enough to hold him from marrying Octavia a few
months after he had left the arms of Cleopatra; and now three and a
half years had passed since he had seen the Queen,--a period which,
to a memory so short as Antony’s, constituted a very complete hiatus
in this particular love-story. So slight, indeed, was his affection
for her at this time that, in speaking of the twins with which she
had presented him, he made the famous remark already quoted, that he
had no intention of confining his hopes of progeny to any one woman,
but, like his ancestor Hercules, he hoped to let nature take her will
with him, the best way of circulating noble blood through the world
being thus personally to beget in every country a new line of kings.
Antony doubtless looked forward with youthful excitement to a renewal
of his relations with the Queen, and, to some extent, it may be true
that he now joyously broke loose from the gentle, and, for that
reason, galling, bonds of domesticity; but actually he purposed, for
political reasons, to make a definite alliance with Cleopatra, and it
is unreasonable to suppose that any flames of ungoverned passion burnt
within his jolly heart at this time.
On Cleopatra’s side the case was somewhat different. The stress of
bitter experience had knocked out of her all that harum-scarum attitude
towards life which had been her marked characteristic in earlier years;
and she was no longer able to play with her fortune nor to romp through
her days as formerly she had done. Antony, whom in her way she had
loved, had cruelly deserted her, and now was asking for a renewal of
her favours. Could she believe (for no doubt such was his excuse) that
his long absence from her and his marriage to another woman were purely
political manœuvres which had in no way interfered with the continuity
of his love for her? Could she put her trust in him this second time?
Could she, on the other hand, manage her complicated affairs without
him? Evidently he was now omnipotent in the East; Parthia was likely
to go down before him; and Octavian’s sombre figure was already almost
entirely eclipsed by this new Dionysos, save only in little Italy
itself. Would there be any hope of enlarging her dominions, or even
of retaining those she already possessed, without his assistance?
Such questions could only have one solution. She must come to an
absolutely definite understanding with Antony, and must make a binding
agreement with him. In a word, if there was to be any renewal of their
relationship, he must marry her. There must be no more diplomatic
manœuvring, which, to her, meant desertion, misery, and painful
anxiety. He must become the open enemy of Octavian, and, with her help,
must aim at the conquest both of the limitless East and of the entire
West. He must act in all things as the successor of the divine Julius
Cæsar, and the heir to their joint power must be Cæsar’s son, the
little Cæsarion, now a growing boy of over ten years of age.
With this determination fixed in her mind she accepted the invitation
presented to her by Fonteius Capito, and set sail for Syria. A few
weeks later, towards the end of the year B.C. 37, she met Antony in
the city of Antioch; and at once she set herself to the execution of
her decision. History does not tell us what passed between them at
their first interviews; but it may be supposed that Antony excused his
previous conduct on political grounds, and made it clear to the Queen
that he now desired a definite and lasting alliance with her; while
Cleopatra, on her part, intimated her willingness to unite herself with
him, provided that the contract was made legal and binding on both
sides.
The fact that she obtained Antony’s consent to an agreement which was
in every way to her advantage, not only shows what a high value was
set by Antony upon Egypt’s friendship at this time, but it also proves
how great were her powers of persuasion. It must be remembered that
Cleopatra had been for over three years a wronged woman, deserted
by her lover, despairing of ever obtaining the recognition of her
son’s claims upon Rome, and almost hopeless even of retaining the
independence of Egypt. Now she had the pluck to demand from him all
manner of increased rights and privileges and the confirmation of
all her dynastic hopes; and, to her great joy, Antony was willing
to accede to her wishes. I have already shown that he did not really
love her with a passion so deep that his sober judgment was obscured
thereby, and the agreement is therefore to be attributed more to the
Queen’s shrewd bargaining, and to her very understandable anxiety
not to be duped once more by her fickle lover. She must have worked
upon Antony’s feelings by telling him of her genuine distress; and at
the same time she must warmly have confirmed his estimate of Egypt’s
importance to him at this juncture.
The terms of the agreement appear to me to have been as follows:--
Firstly, it seems to have been arranged that a legal marriage should be
contracted between them according to Egyptian custom. We have already
seen how, many years previously, Julius Cæsar had countenanced a law
designed to legalise his proposed marriage with Cleopatra, by the terms
of which he would have been able to marry more than one wife;[94] and
Antony now seems to have based his attitude upon a somewhat similar
understanding. The marriage would not be announced to the Senate in
Rome, since he intended no longer to regard himself as subject to the
old Roman Law in these matters; but in Egypt it would be accepted as a
legal and terrestrial confirmation of the so-called celestial union of
B.C. 40.
Secondly, it was agreed that Antony should not assume the title
of King of Egypt, but should call himself _Autocrator_--_i.e._,
“absolute ruler,” of the entire East. The word αὐτοκράτωρ was a fair
Greek equivalent of the Roman _Imperator_, a title which, it will be
remembered, was made hereditary in Julius Cæsar’s behalf, and which
was probably intended by him to obtain its subsequent significance
of “Emperor.” Antony would not adopt the title of βασιλεύς or _rex_,
which was always objectionable to Roman ears; nor was the word
_Imperator_ quite distinguished enough, since it was held by all
commanders-in-chief of Roman armies. But the title _Autocrator_ was
significant of omnipotence; and it is to be noted that from this time
onwards every “Pharaoh” of Egypt was called by that name, which in
hieroglyphs reads _Aut’k’r’d’r_. Antony also retained for the time
being his title of Triumvir.
Thirdly, Antony probably promised to regard Cæsarion, the son of
Cleopatra and Julius Cæsar, as the rightful heir to the throne;[95]
and he agreed to give his own children by the Queen the minor kingdoms
within their empire.
[Illustration:
CLEOPATRA’S POSSESSIONS
IN RELATION TO
THE ROMAN WORLD
_William Blackwood & Sons, Edinburgh_ W. & A. K. Johnston,
Limited, Edinburgh & London.
]
Fourthly, Antony appears to have promised to increase the extent of
Egyptian power to that which existed fourteen hundred years previously,
in the days of the mighty Pharaohs of the Eighteenth dynasty. He
therefore gave to the Queen Sinai; Arabia, including probably the
rock-city of Petra; the east coast of the Dead Sea; part of the valley
of the Jordan and the City of Jericho; perhaps a portion of Samaria and
Galilee; the Phœnician coast, with the exception of the free cities of
Tyre and Sidon; the Lebanon; probably the north coast of Syria; part of
Cilicia, perhaps including Tarsus; the island of Cyprus; and a part of
Crete. The Kingdom of Judea, ruled by Herod, was thus enclosed within
Cleopatra’s dominions; but the deduction of this valuable land from the
Egyptian sphere was compensated for by the addition of the Cilician
territory, which had always lain beyond Egypt’s frontiers, even in
the days of the great Pharaohs.
Lastly, in return for these gifts Cleopatra must have undertaken to
place all the financial and military resources of Egypt at Antony’s
disposal whenever he should need them.
As soon as this agreement was made I think there can be little doubt
that Cleopatra and Antony were quietly married;[96] and in celebration
of the event coins were struck, showing their two heads, and inscribed
with both their names, she being called Queen and he Autocrator. In
honour of the occasion, moreover, Cleopatra began a new dating of the
years of her reign; and on a coin minted six years later, the heads
of Antony and the Queen are shown with the inscription, “In the reign
of Queen Cleopatra, in the 21st, which is also the 6th, year of the
goddess.” It will be remembered that Cleopatra came to the throne in
the summer of B.C. 51, and therefore the 21st year of her reign would
begin after the summer of B.C. 31, which period would also be the close
of the 6th year dating from this alliance at Antioch at the end of B.C.
37. Thus these coins must have been struck in the autumn of B.C. 31,
at which time the beginning of the 21st year of Cleopatra’s reign as
Queen of Egypt coincided with the end of the 6th year of her reign with
Antony. There are, of course, many arguments to be advanced against the
theory that she was now definitely married; but in view of the facts
that their two heads now appear on the coins, that Antony now settled
upon her this vast estate, that she began a new dating to her reign,
that Antony henceforth lived with her, and that, as we know from his
letter to Octavian,[97] he spoke of her afterwards as his _wife_, I
do not think that there is any good reason for postponing the wedding
until a later period.
The winter was spent quietly at Antioch, Antony being busily engaged
in preparations for his new Parthian campaign which was to bring
him, he hoped, such enormous prestige and popularity in the Roman
world. The city was the metropolis of Syria, and at this time must
already have been recognised as the third city of the world, ranking
immediately below Rome and Alexandria. The residential quarter, called
Daphnæ, was covered with thick groves of laurels and cypresses for ten
miles around, and a thousand little streams ran down from the hills
and passed under the shade of the trees where, even in the height
of summer, it was always cool. The city was famous for its art and
learning, and was a centre eminently suited to Cleopatra’s tastes.
The months passed by without much event. The Queen is said to have
tried to persuade Antony to dethrone Herod and to add Judea to her
new dominions, but this he would not do, and he begged her not to
meddle with Herod’s affairs, a correction which she at once accepted,
thereafter acting with great cordiality to the Jewish King.
In March B.C. 26, Antony set out for the war, Cleopatra accompanying
him as far as Zeugma, a town on the Euphrates, near the Armenian
frontier, a march of about 150 miles from Antioch. It is probable that
she wished to go through the whole campaign by his side, for, at a
later date, we find her again attempting to remain by him under similar
circumstances; but at Zeugma a discovery seems to have been made in
regard to her condition which necessitated her going back to Egypt,
there to await his triumphant return. In spite of the anxieties and
disappointments of her life the Queen had retained her energy and pluck
in a marked degree, and she was now no less hardy and daring than she
had been in the days when Julius Cæsar had found her invading Egypt at
the head of her Syrian army. She enjoyed the open life of a campaign,
and she took pleasure in the dangers which had to be faced. An ancient
writer, Florus, has described her, as we have already noticed, as
being “free from all womanly fear,” and this attempt to go to the wars
with her husband is an indication that the audacity and dash so often
noticeable in her actions had not been impaired by her misfortunes. She
does not appear to have been altogether in favour of the expedition,
for it seemed a risky undertaking, and one which would cost her a great
deal of money, but the adventure of it appealed to her, and added that
quality of excitement to her days which seems to have been so necessary
to her existence. Antony, however, fond as he was of her, could not
have appreciated the honour of her company at such a time; and he must
have been not a little relieved when he saw her retreating cavalcade
disappear along the road to Antioch.
From Antioch Cleopatra made her way up the valley of the Orontes
to Apamea, whence she travelled past Arethusa and Emesa to the
Anti-Lebanon, and so to Damascus. From here she seems to have crossed
to the Sea of Galilee, and thence along the river Jordan to Jericho.
Hereabouts she was met by the handsome and adventurous Herod, who came
to her in order that they might arrive at some agreement in regard
to the portions of Judea which Antony had given to her; and, after
some bargaining, it was finally decided that Herod should rent these
territories from her for a certain sum of money. Jericho’s tropical
climate produced great abundance of palms, henna, sometimes known as
camphire, myrobalan or _zukkûm_, and balsam, the “balm of Gilead,” so
much prized as perfume and for medicinal purposes. Josephus speaks
of Jericho as a “divine region,” and strategically it was the key of
Palestine. It may be understood, therefore, how annoying it must have
been to Herod to be dispossessed of this jewel of his crown; and it
is said that, after he had rented it from Cleopatra, it became his
favourite place of residence. The transaction being settled, the Queen
seems to have continued her journey to Egypt, at the Jewish King’s
invitation, by way of Jerusalem and Gaza--that is to say, across
the Kingdom of Judea; but no sooner had she set her foot on Jewish
territory than Herod conceived the plan of seizing her and putting her
to death. The road from Jericho to Jerusalem ascends the steep, wild
mountain-side, and zigzags upwards through rugged and bare scenery.
It would have been a simple matter to ambush the Queen in one of the
desolate ravines through which she had to pass, and the blame might be
placed with the brigands who infested these regions. He pointed out to
his advisers, as Josephus tells us, that Cleopatra by reason of her
enormous influence upon the affairs of Rome had become a menace to all
minor sovereigns; and now that he had her in his power he could, with
the greatest ease, rid the world of a woman who had become irksome
to them all, and thereby deliver them from a very multitude of evils
and misfortunes. He told them that Cleopatra was actually turning her
beautiful eyes upon himself, and he doubted not but that she would make
an attempt upon his virtue before he had got her across his southern
frontier. He argued that Antony would in the long-run come to thank him
for her murder; for it was apparent that she would never be a faithful
friend to him, but would desert him at the moment when he should most
stand in need of her fidelity. The councillors, however, were appalled
at the King’s proposal, and implored him not to put it into execution.
“They laid hard at him,” says _naïf_ Josephus, “and begged him to
undertake nothing rashly; for that Antony would never bear it, no, not
though any one should lay evidently before his eyes that it was for his
own advantage. This woman was of the supremest dignity of any of her
sex at that time in the world; and such an undertaking would appear to
deserve condemnation on account of the insolence Herod must take upon
himself in doing it.”
The Jewish King, therefore, giving up his treacherous scheme, politely
escorted Cleopatra to the frontier fortress of Pelusium, and thus she
came unscathed to Alexandria, where she settled down to await the birth
of her fourth child. It is perhaps worth noting that she is said to
have brought back to Egypt from Jericho many cuttings of the balsam
shrubs, and planted them at Heliopolis, near the modern Cairo.[98] The
Queen’s mind must now have been full of optimism. Antony had collected
an enormous army, and already, she supposed, he must have penetrated
far into Parthia. In spite of her previous fears, she now expected
that he would return to her covered with glory, having opened the road
through Persia to India and the fabulous East. Rome would hail him
as their hero and idol, and the unpopular Octavian would sink into
insignificance. Then he would claim for himself and for her the throne
of the West as well as that of the Orient, and at last her little son
Cæsarion, as their heir, would come into his own.
With such hopes as these to support her, Cleopatra passed through her
time of waiting; and in the late autumn she gave birth to a boy, whom
she named Ptolemy, according to the custom of her house. But ere she
had yet fully recovered her strength she received despatches from
Antony, breaking to her the appalling news that his campaign had been
a disastrous failure, and that he had reached northern Syria with only
a remnant of his grand army, clad in rags, emaciated by hunger and
illness, and totally lacking in funds. He implored her to come to his
aid, and to bring him money wherewith to pay his disheartened soldiers,
and he told her that he would await her coming upon the Syrian coast
somewhere between Sidon and Berytus.
Once more the unfortunate Queen’s hopes were dashed to the ground; but
pluckily rising to the occasion, she collected money, clothes, and
munitions of war, and set out with all possible speed to her husband’s
relief.
The history of the disaster is soon told. From Zeugma Antony had
marched to the plateau of Erzeroum, where he had reviewed his enormous
army, consisting of 60,000 Roman foot (including Spaniards and Gauls),
10,000 Roman horse, and some 30,000 troops of other nationalities,
including 13,000 horse and foot supplied by Artavasdes, King of
Armenia, and a strong force provided by King Polemo of Pontus. An
immense number of heavy engines of war had been collected; and these
were despatched towards Media along the valley of the Araxes, together
with the contingents from Armenia and Pontus and two Roman legions.
Antony himself, with the main army, marched by a more direct route
across northern Assyria into Media, being impatient to attack the
enemy. The news of his approach in such force, says Plutarch, not only
alarmed the Parthians but filled North India with fear, and, indeed,
made all Asia shake. It was generally supposed that he would march in
triumph through Persia; and there must have been considerable talk as
to whether he would carry his arms, like Alexander the Great, into
India, where Cleopatra’s ships, coming across the high sea trade-route
from Egypt, would meet him with money and supplies. Towards the
end of August, Antony reached the city of Phraaspa, the capital of
Media-Atropatene, and there he awaited the arrival of his siege-train
and its accompanying contingent. He had expected that the city would
speedily surrender, but in this he was mistaken; and, ere he had
settled down to the business of a protracted siege, he received the
news that his second army had been attacked and defeated, that his
entire siege-train had been captured, that the King of Armenia had fled
with the remnant of his forces back to his own country, and that the
King of Pontus had been taken prisoner. In spite of this crushing loss,
however, Antony bravely determined to continue the siege; but soon the
arrival of the Parthian army, fresh from its victory, began to cause
him great discomfort, and his lines were constantly harassed from the
outside by bodies of the famous Parthian cavalry, though not once did
the enemy allow a general battle to take place. At last, in October, he
was obliged to open negotiations with the enemy; for, in view of the
general lack of provisions and the deep despondency of the troops, the
approach of winter could not be contemplated without the utmost dread.
He therefore sent a message to the Parthian King stating that if the
prisoners captured from Crassus were handed over, together with the
lost eagles, he would raise the siege and depart. The enemy refused
these terms, but declared that if Antony would retire, his retreat
would not be molested; and to this the Romans agreed. The Parthians,
however, did not keep their word; and as the weary legionaries crossed
the snow-covered mountains they were attacked again and again by the
fierce tribesmen, who ambushed them at every pass, and followed in
their rear to cut off stragglers. The intense cold, the lack of food,
and the extreme weariness of the troops, caused the number of these
stragglers to be very great; and besides the thousands of men who were
thus cut off or killed in the daily fighting, a great number perished
from exposure and want of food. At one period so great was the scarcity
of provisions that a loaf of bread was worth its weight in silver;
and it was at this time that large numbers of men, having devoured a
certain root which seemed to be edible, went mad and died. “He that had
eaten of this root,” says Plutarch, “remembered nothing in the world,
and employed himself only in moving great stones from one place to
another, which he did with as much earnestness and industry as if it
had been a business of the greatest consequence; and thus through all
the camp there was nothing to be seen but men grubbing upon the ground
at stones, which they carried from place to place, until in the end
they vomited and died.” This account, though of course exaggerated and
confused, gives a vivid picture of the distressed legionaries, some
dying of this poison, some going mad, some perishing from exposure and
vainly endeavouring to build themselves a shelter from the biting wind.
All through the long and terrible march Antony behaved with consummate
bravery and endurance. He shared every hardship with his men, and when
the camp was pitched at night he went from tent to tent, talking to the
legionaries, and cheering them with encouraging words. His sympathy and
concern for the wounded was that of the tenderest woman; and he would
throw himself down beside sufferers and burst into uncontrolled tears.
The men adored him; and even those who were at the point of death,
arousing themselves in his presence, called him by every respectful and
endearing name. “They seized his hands,” says Plutarch, “with joyful
faces, bidding him go and see to himself and not be concerned about
them; calling him their Emperor and their General, and saying that
if only he were well they were safe.” Many times Antony was heard to
exclaim, “O, the ten thousand!” as though in admiration for Xenophon’s
famous retreat, which was even more arduous than his own. On one
occasion so serious was the situation that he made one of his slaves,
named Rhamnus, take an oath that in the event of a general massacre he
would run his sword through his body, and cut off his head, in order
that he might neither be captured alive nor be recognised when dead.
At last, after twenty-seven terrible days, during which they had beaten
off the Parthians no less than eighteen times, they crossed the Araxes
and brought the eagles safely into Armenia. Here, making a review of
the army, Antony found that he had lost 20,000 foot and 4000 horse, the
majority of which had died of exposure and illness. Their troubles,
however, were by no means at an end; for although the enemy had now
been left behind, the snows of winter had still to be faced, and the
march through Armenia into Syria was fraught with difficulties. By the
time that the coast was reached eight thousand more men had perished;
and the army which finally went into winter quarters at a place known
as the White Village, between Sidon and Berytus, was but the tattered
remnant of the great host which had set out so bravely in the previous
spring. Yet it may be said that had not Antony proved himself so
dauntless a leader, not one man would have escaped from those terrible
mountains, but all would have shared the doom of Crassus and his
ill-fated expedition.
At the White Village Antony eagerly awaited the coming of Cleopatra;
yet so ashamed was he at his failure, and so unhappy at the thought of
her reproaches for his ill-success, that he turned in despair to the
false comfort of the wine-jar, and daily drank himself into a state of
oblivious intoxication. When not in a condition of coma he was nervous
and restless. He could not endure the tediousness of a long meal, but
would start up from table and run down to the sea-shore to scan the
horizon for a sight of her sails. Both he and his officers were haggard
and unkempt, his men being clad in rags; and it was in this condition
that Cleopatra found them when at last her fleet sailed into the bay,
bringing clothing, provisions, and money.