it was enough for them to hear that it was in any way criticized: a
suspicion, a suggestion, that it was in peril was sufficient to stir
them profoundly. These proud citizens of Rome had the idea that all
other great cities envied her and were anxious to overthrow her
power. Carthage, Corinth, Athens, all in important positions, had in
their turn fallen under suspicion. To-day all their instincts of
defence were united against superb, preëminent Alexandria. There was
a persistent rumour that Cleopatra was planning to transfer the
world-capital from Rome to that city. This danger in itself would
have bred hatred of her, but, in addition, there were the recent vile
tales. Her extravagant luxury was especially distasteful to a people
who made poverty almost a crime. In passing from mouth to mouth the
incident of the pearls was naturally exaggerated. There was now an
account of a bath, enriched each day by a mixture of gold and amber,
to which the body of this courtesan owed the glowing warmth of colour
which so enticed men's gaze.
While this gossip was spreading among the Plebeians, Mæcenas was busy
agitating the Intellectuals. He got together a group of literary
men, and, with that ease of language and charm of persuasion that
always carried conviction, he described Octavius as the coming master
of the world. These men were quickly persuaded to use their pens to
advance his cause. It was arranged to make conservatism, religion,
devotion, social reform the fashion--all the ideals of which Cæsar's
nephew was patron, as opposed to the Oriental usages to which Antony
had become a convert. Virgil, in his delightful pastoral, was the
first to carry out this project of Mæcenas's. His poems were of wide
influence in reviving that taste for country life and love of the
earth which the long wars had rudely interrupted. At the same time
Horace put aside his Epodes on wine and women for the more serious
Odes. Deploring the fatal power of women when in control of the
Government by actual right or by their domination over the men who
represented it, he gave an outline of the lives of women famous in
history and legend, and set forth the inevitable misfortune that they
had brought upon their countries. He adjured the people, in the name
of their imperilled nation, to unite against the fatal Egyptian
woman, the evil demon of the day.
The situation was growing less difficult for Octavius. He could now
venture to lay before the Senate certain accusations that until that
moment he had not dared to make public. The Senate was the supreme
arbiter, the tribunal before which all discussions relating to the
Government were laid. To denounce his colleague there was dangerous,
for not only had Antony many partisans in the Senate, but this year
the two Consuls, Caius Sossius and Ahenobarbus, were his sworn
friends. The advisers of Octavius were well aware of the risks
incurred, but, under the existing conditions, immediate action was
imperative. A duel to the death must be fought between the two
rivals.
It was one of the last days of the year 33 B.C. The sun went in and
out amongst the flake-like clouds, making it impossible to know
whether sunshine or cloud-drifts would prevail. Octavius studied the
sky long and earnestly and finally decided that the way the birds
were flying meant weather favourable for his undertaking. He started
toward the Senate.
The crowd had begun to gather. There were beggars asking alms and
slaves carrying provisions. Women were collected about the public
market-places where beans, fish, and sausages were displayed.
Half-naked children, brown as crickets, paddled in the gutters.
Troops of donkeys, bearing wicker baskets, chariots, litters, blocked
the streets. Twelve lictors ran before the Imperator to clear the
way, but in spite of that his pallor and nervousness were noticed by
the people in the street. He was under a strain, and as he took his
seat in the chair of honour he felt beneath his toga for the poignard
which he always carried there. Since the assassination of Cæsar a
_senatus consulte_ had forbidden the wearing of arms in the Senate
chamber. But to-day, on the eve of a debate, the consequences of
which no one could divine, all precautions were legal. At least so
Octavius thought!
At the first instant the opposing parties gauged each other at a
glance. Placing a heavy portfolio before him, filled with his
various accusations against Antony, Octavius opened the discussion.
Faithful to his former tactics, which had been so successful with the
people, he launched his opening diatribes against Cleopatra:
"This incestuous daughter of Ptolemy the Piper, descendant of the
Lagidæ, is our worst enemy. Threatened in her own country by those
who abhor her loose ways and the dangers of her insecure government,
she has made use of the power of Rome for her own protection.
Intoxicated with her success, this mad woman has even dreamed of
destroying our capital. She is preparing to attack us, I tell you,
and with a shameful army of slaves and eunuchs is planning an
invasion of Italy!"
The effect of this speech was instantaneous. The uproar that greeted
it was deafening. Furious with rage, the Senators rose in a body,
and with angry gestures raised their togas like the wings of
gigantic, ferocious birds.
A direct attack on Antony required greater courage. Octavius felt
that the least false step might result in an irreparable downfall.
Confident, however, of the convincing force of his arguments, he
commenced his address. He denounced Antony, not only for having
taken for his own use the newly acquired provinces, but for having
deliberately made over the greater part of them to the Queen of Egypt.
"Yes, not content with robbing and despoiling his own country, this
infatuated lover of Cleopatra has offered to this alien woman Armenia
and Media, the territories of Calcida, as well as Phoenicia, with
Tyre and Sidon, and the enormous revenues from Palestine." Octavius
paused between the name of each country in order to let the wrath of
the people have ample time to seek expression. The protestations
came with precipitate and overwhelming violence.
"The scoundrel! The traitor! Our beautiful lands! Our richest
provinces!" Shouts of indignation filled the hall.
Until that moment Antony's staunch supporters had thought it wise to
keep silence. When the first roars began to subside Caius Sossius
commanded silence. He announced an important proclamation. That
very morning he had received a notice that would give the lie direct
to these attacks, which the conqueror of the Parthians had fully
expected. In eloquent terms, the Consul recalled the recent
brilliant deeds of Mark Antony. "And," he thundered, "it is he, the
valiant hero of all these victories, whose life has been risked again
and again for the glory of his country, for the safety of Rome, who
is now being vilified because he is not here to defend himself!"
The tide changed on the instant. "It is cowardly! It is unworthy of
us," cried a dozen voices. Encouraged by this evidence of sympathy,
Sossius went on with greater emphasis. "These much decried donations
to Alexandria, what are they but annexations of Rome? As Egypt is,
or will be to-morrow, a Roman province, why is there any discontent?
This wealth of the Orient, what is it used for? It is equipping the
Roman army, feeding the soldiers of the Republic. It is building
temples, it is erecting barracks, to make the name of our Capital
revered throughout the world! Where is our loss?"
"Moreover," continued the friend of Antony, with a respectful
inclination to the august assembly, "in regard to the rights of the
Senate, the Imperator requests that you either ratify the measures
that he has taken in the service of his country, or, if you
disapprove of his action in the matter, to turn them down."
The tide had unmistakably turned in Antony's favour. Whatever errors
he had committed in his infatuation for Cleopatra, he had been the
dominant figure in Roman warfare during the past ten years; the only
one who had accomplished great deeds and who had been, through all, a
noble citizen of Rome.
Octavius felt the ground giving way beneath his feet. Pale as the
statues around him, he felt as though after this first tilt he might
probably end with his head in the dust. His swelling portfolio,
however, was still full of accusations against Antony. His weapons
were not yet exhausted. He took his courage in both hands and again
began to speak. He went over the deeds of Antony and Cleopatra
during the festivities at Alexandria, giving, in exaggerated and
revolting detail, the experiences of those nights of debauchery in
the streets of the great city. He dwelt on the investiture of
Cleopatra's bastard children, especially the fact that Cæsarion was
treated with the honour and ceremony belonging to a Roman prince in
being presented to the Roman legions as the lawful heir of Cæsar.
Here there was an interruption. Why harp on an old grievance? The
Republic was not a dynasty, there was no sense in taking umbrage at
so-called heirs. All that was merely part of the masquerading. If
Antony had joined in such frivolous amusements it was regrettable
certainly, it showed a lack of dignity. But, on the other hand, the
same thing had occurred at Rome, when he had had his chariot drawn by
lions. Such puerile nonsense was ridiculous but scarcely deserving
of severe reproof.
The current was propitious now and Sossius took advantage of it to
remind the people that the policy of Octavius, at the time of Cæsar's
death, had been reprehensible in the extreme. Here Tufius interposed
with the comment that it was useless to recur to things so far in the
past.
"I speak of the things of yesterday," retorted the Consul. He then
explained briefly that in destroying the Triumvirate and altering it
into a dictatorship for two, Octavius had appropriated for himself
the share belonging to Lepidus. In seizing the African provinces,
with, their ships, cavalry, infantry, and all their accessories; in
confiscating for his personal use the Sicilian land wrested from
Sextus Pompey; in dividing the best parts of Italy among his own
soldiers, leaving no portions for the veterans of the other armies,
had not Octavius offended justice and exceeded the limits of his
power far more than Antony had ever done?
Another outburst, equalling the one provoked by the opening speech of
Octavius, began. The assembly was completely won over to Antony's
cause. Sweat stood in great drops on the forehead of Octavius. He
felt the sheath of his hidden poignard press against his left side.
For the moment he had the sensation of being trapped, and with
clenched teeth and flaming eyes he glared about him defiantly. He
was accused of aspiring to the office of supreme magistrate! How
could he give irrefutable proof of his disinterestedness?
"I will resign every office that I hold; I will give up all public
duties and go back to private life as a plain Roman citizen, on the
sole condition that my colleague, Antony, does the same!" he cried.
This struck the right note. Every one was weary of the dictatorship
and wanted to return to a republican form of government. But the
issues then at stake were too grave to permit a hasty decision.
Besides, Octavius did not have the confidence of the people. His
former attitude had given good ground for suspicion. The very moment
when he was ostensibly giving up his power might be precisely the
instant when he was exploiting his position in order to retain it.
Undecided as to what was to be the next step, the Consuls declared
that in Antony's absence immediate action was impossible. A
conference with him was essential. Ahenobarbus proposed going to
Alexandria to obtain his resignation. The majority endorsed this
course and the vote was held over for a later meeting.
The situation was perplexing for Octavius. Again he realized how
deep a hold Antony had on the affections of the people. It was the
same old story. How could he hope to defeat a rival who had not only
a formidable army at his back, but wealth and popularity in addition?
He went to consult his friends, as he always did when in a quandary.
Mæcenas lived in a villa on the Esquiline hill, commanding a
magnificent view. Rome lay in majestic state on the banks of her
river below, and the soft beauty of the Campagna stretched out to the
Sabine Hills along the horizon. As Octavius drew near Mæcenas went
out to meet him with outstretched hands. His affection for the
Imperator was sincere and loyal, as is shown in various letters from
him. "I love you better than myself. Where you lead, I will follow.
Whatever comes to you I will share, for my life is inseparably bound
up in yours."
The two friends sat down near the brazier, which filled the hall with
warmth and the fragrance of incense. Octavius recounted what had
just happened in the Senate. Mæcenas admitted that there were grave
difficulties, but he contended that these were only temporary and
that they could be adjusted. In Antony's present state of
over-excitement he would undoubtedly do something to rouse keen
disapproval, if not a serious disturbance. In the meantime Agrippa
should make secret preparations for war, while Octavius devised some
means of turning the tide of public opinion once more in his favour.
A policy of strict conservatism, as opposed to the wild Egyptian
schemes of Antony, seemed the wise move at the moment. The oldest
temple in Rome, that built in the time of Romulus in honour of
Jupiter Feretrius, was falling into ruins. Octavius must give orders
for its reconstruction. He must also complete the building of the
Pantheon, begun by Cæsar to the glory of Mars.
While the two friends were planning for the future, Athenodorus came
in. His practical mind confirmed these suggestions. He proposed
that they consider something to please the Plebeians, for their
opinion carried great weight as to popularity. During the summer
months the Roman populace suffered cruelly from scarcity of water.
It would be an excellent device to repair the aqueduct of Marcia, and
to open cheap baths, in order that the working classes might have the
same comfort and refreshment that the Patricians enjoyed in their
luxurious _sudatoria_.
These constructive works met Octavius's entire approval. In the near
future they might prove to be his strongest support. But the moment
was not propitious for the carrying out of the plans. He had barely
had time to summon the architects and go over their drawings, when a
thunderbolt fell!
Unknown to Cleopatra, Antony had always kept up friendly relations
with Octavia. In the first place, he was really grateful for all the
assistance that this noble woman had rendered him. In the second, he
had the more powerful motive of expecting further services! They
exchanged letters frequently, and, as the sister of Octavius, she
could keep her husband fully informed of all that was going on in
Rome. She was, in addition, the most desirable of mediators, for her
delicate hands held the thread of communication between the
brothers-in-law and she was careful not to break it off. She also
constantly entertained a set of Antony's friends in her house on the
Palatine hill, and these were always ready to discuss the virtues of
their hero and do honour to him in his absence. With warm affection
she had looked after the education not only of her own children, but
of those that Fulvia had borne Antony as well.
Unlucky chance, or one of those acts of treachery that often occur in
the nests of intrigue which form in kings' palaces, had thrown one of
Antony's letters to his wife into the hands of Cleopatra. Its
affectionate tone and the promise of a visit in the near future
precipitated a crisis which was bound to come. In the Queen's heart,
uneasy always with memories and fears, the arrow of jealousy struck
deep. "After all he has promised me!" she cried bitterly. Then came
the inevitable reaction, natural to a highly strung, nervous nature
that could endure no grief, and again she cried: "I will have my
revenge!"
Charmian, who never left her side, lived in a perpetual state of
terror. She was divided between love for the Queen and dread of her
passionate temperament that was always courting dramatic situations.
Had not an augur predicted that the love affair of Antony and
Cleopatra would end in blood? She longed to divert her beloved
mistress from the passion that threatened to drive her mad. Kneeling
before her, she laid her head on the Queen's trembling knees. "Why
should you suffer thus?" she said. The girl felt her shoulder warm
from the Queen's feverish touch. "If I could only hold that cursed
woman here in my hands and by a thousand tortures make her expiate
the sufferings she has brought me!" Cleopatra's voice shook with
rage. Charmian tried to calm her, but the wound was already
festering and the venom of hate was spreading through her veins.
With a sudden frenzy she included the whole world in her vengeance as
she swore: "I will go to Rome itself. I will compel Octavius and his
sister to go to war, and with bound hands she shall follow my chariot
to the Capitol!"
This extravagant fancy was distressing to Charmian. As in a mist she
saw the deadly whirlpool sucking them all down in its depths. But
wise counsel is impotent in dealing with a mind wild with jealous
desire to seize and rend its prey. Charmian's gentle words were not
regarded.
The afternoon was nearly over. The air grew less stifling and fresh
puffs of fragrance were wafted in from the magnolia trees. All the
shades of the rainbow shone in the sunset light. It was the hour
when Antony, refreshed and perfumed, after his daily siesta, came to
seek Cleopatra. She was lying on her couch and, annoyed at his being
a little late for their rendezvous, she put her elbow on the
sumptuous cushions and held her head as though it were heavy with
aching. His step made her tremble, and she had a sullen, troubled
expression that indicated a coming storm.
Antony had no chance to escape. The fatal letter, unrolled from its
mother-of-pearl rod, lay on the table. For this letter, for his
crime of being friendly with his faithful wife, he would have to pay
dearly. As he drew near she overwhelmed him with a flood of violent
reproaches. He was a man who could not keep his word. While she,
happy in their being together, and awaiting impatiently the coming
announcement of their marriage, was full of trust in him, he was
playing her false, planning to leave her. He listened silently, and
when her first outburst had subsided he tried to plead with her. The
political situation compelled him to maintain cordial relations with
the sister of Octavius, as she was the most valuable and dependable
intermediary in his connections with the Government at Rome. Her
help was necessary for the protection of his interests there. If he
severed this alliance it would entail a war for which he was not
prepared. But Cleopatra paid no heed. She was burning with jealousy
and a desire for vengeance. She would put an end, once and for all,
to this rival who had alienated Antony's affections. She would
require that Antony, by an official repudiation of Octavia, should
break the last bond that held him to the Occident, and thenceforth he
should belong to her alone.
Antony was fresh from an interview with Ahenobarbus, who had arrived
at Alexandria the day before, bringing news of the active campaign
against him that was going on in Italy and warning him of the
consequence of his continued stay in Egypt. If the thunderbolts that
had been let loose in the Senate had been turned aside it was solely
due to the loyalty of his friends there, but they had defended him
because they were counting on his speedy return to Rome, on his skill
in handling the situation when he came. They would brook no insult
to his noble wife. She had the entire sympathy of the State and he
would offend public opinion if he dared to put the Egyptian woman in
her place. No one would come to his defence a second time.
Patricians and Plebeians alike would be on the side of Octavius and
his sister, and their warm sentiments would be roused in behalf of
the abandoned wife and her children.
In a gleam of reason, the last perhaps that this warrior-statesman
ever knew, Antony saw clearly the dire results of his carrying out
the demand of his fierce mistress. Quivering with excitement he
tried to ward off the coming tragedy.
"We must be cautious. What demon of jealousy possesses you? The
astounding rupture that you are asking me to make will in no way
affect our mutual relations. All my life is yours, and only yours.
I have no thought but to serve you!"
But Cleopatra was too enraged to listen to reason. With her long,
snake-like eyes, her luscious scarlet mouth, her body curled in a
corner of her divan, she seemed like an impregnable fortress.
"I will not yield. I have had enough of hearing the Romans call
Octavia your wife and me your concubine. I desire that by a solemn,
official deed you proclaim me, Cleopatra, as your only lawful wife."
The struggle this time was neither so long nor so violent as the one
of three years before when Antony, moved by the tender devotion of
Octavia, had defended her against his mistress. To-day, far away,
given over to a life of uninteresting virtue, she had less power to
hold his affection. Cleopatra's insatiable passion won the victory
and led to that entire subjugation of will in which a man is no
longer a man. His spirit as well as his flesh was conquered. He was
as wax in her hands, and when she asserted that Octavia had always
been the secret ally of her brother, and that both at Tarentum and at
Rome Antony had been their plaything, he made no protest and his
silence was like acquiescence. But that was not enough. To gain all
she wanted it was necessary to rouse in Antony a passionate hatred,
and as this would not have been possible against the tender, loving
wife who had been so faithful to him, she brought up the name of
Octavius to awaken all the fierce animosity in his soul. To a man of
his temperament, impressionable, weak, but devoured with ambition,
she held up the poltroon Octavius as the man who was seizing the
supreme power.
"So you will be content with our little eastern kingdom," she
sneered, "while he holds dominion over all the countries from Illyria
to the Pillars of Hercules!"
Antony's cheeks blanched. This vision of his colleague's outranking
him, possessing greater power, master of vaster territories than his
own, sent a shiver through his whole being. Such hatred must have an
outlet. Twice already these rivals had been at the point of flying
at each other's throats; of destroying each other; twice the tiny
hand of a woman had intervened. To-day it was again a woman's hand
that slipped in between them, but this time to stir up anger, to
corrupt, to embitter, and this time war was inevitable.
IX
ACTIUM
Octavius had just come, as he did every few days, to see his sister.
Although there was always an affectionate intimacy between them,
to-day their voices were raised in a manner that suggested a
difference of opinion, if not a sharp disagreement. The subject
under discussion was the usual one, and the more Octavius accused
Antony the more Octavia defended him.
"Antony is not so much in the wrong as you say. I understand his
motives. He writes often. I know how dear Rome is to him, that he
adores his children. Besides, we shall soon see him here."
"How can you deceive yourself so? Are you blind, my sister, to the
infamous way he has treated you? Have you forgotten that he sent you
back from Athens like a servant, without honour, without escort,
without even the thanks that your generosity toward him deserved?"
No, Octavia had forgotten nothing, but her loving heart was ready to
excuse all rather than lose the one she loved.