Octavius,[16] but failing her person he had her effigy, and the
statue of Cleopatra with a serpent wound about her arm was borne in
the triumphal procession. Does it not seem that the statue of this
illustrious queen, who had subdued the greatest of the Romans, who had
made Rome tremble, and who preferred death to assisting at her own
humiliation, had by her death triumphed over her conqueror, and still
defied the senate and the people on the way to the Capitol?
We can easily conceive of Cleopatra as a great queen, the rival of the
mythic Semiramis, and the elder sister of the Zenobias, the Isabellas,
the Maria-Theresas, and the Catharines; but, in truth, only those
queens are great who possess manly virtues, who rule nations and compel
events as a great king might do. Cleopatra was too essentially a woman
to be reckoned among these glorious androgynuses. If for twenty years
she preserved her throne and maintained the independence of Egypt, it
was done by mere womanly means—intrigue, gallantry, grace, and weakness
which is also a grace. Her sole method of governing was, in reality,
by becoming the mistress of Cæsar and the mistress of Mark Antony.
It was the Roman sword that sustained the throne of the Lagidæ. When
by the fault of Cleopatra the weapon was broken, the throne tottered
and fell. Ambition, her only royal virtue, would have been limited to
the exercise of her hereditary government if circumstances had not
developed and exalted it.
Knowing herself weak, without genius and without mental force, she
reckoned wholly on her lovers for the accomplishment of her designs,
and it too often happened to this woman, fatal to others as to herself,
to retard the execution of these, dominated, as she ever was, by the
imperious desire of some entertainment or some pleasure. This queen
had the recklessness of the courtesan; women of gallantry might have
considered her their august and tragic ancestress. She only lived for
love, pomp, and magnificence; wherefore, when her lover was slain, her
beauty marred, her wealth lost, and her crown shattered, she found, to
face death, the masculine courage which had failed her in life.
No, Cleopatra was not a great queen. But for her connection with
Antony, she would be forgotten with Arsinoë or Berenice. If her renown
is immortal, it is because she is the heroine of the most dramatic
love-story of antiquity.
[Illustration]
FOOTNOTES
[1] Cicero to Atticus.—In this letter, dated from Brundusium, June 14,
706 A. U. C., Cicero speaks of the long sojourn of Cæsar at Alexandria.
There is thought to be much trouble there, “valde esse impedimentum.”
This “impedimentum,” of which Cæsar makes no complaint, was Cleopatra.
[2] If this were true, Cleopatra would have been as fatal to Cæsar as
she afterwards became to Antony.
[3] We must not judge Antony wholly by the passionate attacks of
Cicero. Plutarch quotes a number of clever retorts of this brave and
excellent soldier; and, in another order of ideas, his letter to
Octavius and Hirtius, from which we find long extracts in the “Third
Philippic,” is the work of a skillful politician as well as a model of
wit.
[4] A curious inscription, discovered in Alexandria by M. C. Vescher,
is as follows: “Antony the Great, the Inimitable.”
[5] Pliny, IX. 35. The legend is not so much of a myth as it appears.
Pliny relates that Octavius, having found the second pearl in the
treasury of Cleopatra, had it cut in two, and with it adorned the ears
of the Pantheon Venus.
[6] Another incident, also related by Plutarch, says that Antony
sometimes sought relaxation from the excesses of the “Life Inimitable”
in more tranquil pleasures, such as angling. Vain even in trifles, and
mortified if he caught nothing, he had fishes attached to his hook by
a diver. The trick did not escape Cleopatra. The next day she had a
salted fish fastened to his hook, which the triumvir drew gravely from
the water amid shouts of laughter. From this time Antony renounced
angling.
[7] Appian says positively that Antony was in love with Octavia.
[8] Like all the Ptolemies, the last of the Lagidæ was a great builder.
[9] Antony also made a gift to Cleopatra of the 300,000 manuscripts of
the library of Pergamos, to replace a part of the volumes burned at
Alexandria.
[10] Thirty-five drachmæ were given to each legionary, and a less sum
to every soldier.
[11] The Egyptian, says Florus forcibly, demanded as the price of her
favors, the Roman Empire from a drunken emperor: “Mulier ægyptia ab
ebrio imperatore pretium libidinum Romanum Imperium petit.”
[12] These verses were written after the battle of Actium, 31 B. C.,
but they no less indicate the sentiments of the Romans at the
commencement of the war. If this indignation and hatred obtained with
such violence after the victory, what must they have been in the very
hour of danger? Lucan says: “This woman, the reproach of Egypt, the
fatal Erinys of Latium, incestuous daughter of the Ptolemies; who made
the Capitol tremble with her sistra.”
[13] It therefore seems probable that it was in the autumn of 32 B. C.
that Antony must have married Cleopatra.
[14] Dion says that Cleopatra betrayed Antony at Alexandria, as at
Pelusium, and that she sent him word of her death that he might be
urged to commit suicide, and his body given up to Octavius. Once for
all, we take for authority Plutarch, who seems much more worthy of
credit. The taking of Alexandria was on August 1, 30 B. C.
[15] The peculiar force of this verb in the passive form cannot be
fitly rendered in a translation. It is, word for word, “I will not be
triumphed.”
[16] Cleopatra died the 15th of August, 30 B. C.
Transcriber’s Notes
Punctuation and spelling were made consistent when a predominant
preference was found in this book; otherwise they were not changed.
Simple typographical errors were corrected.
Ambiguous hyphens at the ends of lines were retained.
Table of Contents added by Transcriber and placed into the Public
Domain.
The illustrations are decorative; the ones at the beginning of each
chapter are headpieces.
Page 53: “the war of Persia” was printed that way.
Page 65: “ἐρω.μένην” was printed with the period.
Page 103: “Οἰ θριαμβεúσομαι” was printed that way.