THE BATTLE OF ACTIUM.
Cleopatra, in parting with Antony as described in the last chapter, lost
him for two or three years. During this time Antony himself was involved
in a great variety of difficulties and dangers, and passed through many
eventful scenes, which, however, can not here be described in detail. His
life, during this period, was full of vicissitude and excitement, and was
spent probably in alternations of remorse for the past and anxiety for the
future. On landing at Tyre, he was at first extremely perplexed whether to
go to Asia Minor or to Rome. His presence was imperiously demanded in both
places. The war which Fulvia had fomented was caused, in part, by the
rivalry of Octavius, and the collision of his interests with those of her
husband. Antony was very angry with her for having managed his affairs in
such a way as to bring about a war. After a time Antony and Fulvia met at
Athens. Fulvia had retreated to that city, and was very seriously sick
there, either from bodily disease, or from the influence of long-continued
anxiety, vexation, and distress. They had a stormy meeting. Neither party
was disposed to exercise any mercy toward the other. Antony left his wife
rudely and roughly, after loading her with reproaches. A short time
afterward, she sank down in sorrow to the grave.
The death of Fulvia was an event which proved to be of advantage to
Antony. It opened the way to a reconciliation between him and Octavius.
Fulvia had been extremely active in opposing Octavius's designs, and in
organizing plans for resisting him. He felt, therefore, a special
hostility against her, and, through her, against Antony. Now, however,
that she was dead, the way seemed to be in some sense opened for a
reconciliation.
Octavius had a sister, Octavia, who had been the wife of a Roman general
named Marcellus. She was a very beautiful and a very accomplished woman,
and of a spirit very different from that of Fulvia. She was gentle,
affectionate, and kind, a lover of peace and harmony, and not at all
disposed, like Fulvia, to assert and maintain her influence over others by
an overbearing and violent demeanor. Octavia's husband died about this
time, and, in the course of the movements and negotiations between Antony
and Octavius, the plan was proposed of a marriage between Antony and
Octavia, which, it was thought, would ratify and confirm the
reconciliation. This proposal was finally agreed upon. Antony was glad to
find so easy a mode of settling his difficulties. The people of Rome, too,
and the authorities there, knowing that the peace of the world depended
upon the terms on which these two men stood with regard to each other,
were extremely desirous that this arrangement should be carried into
effect. There was a law of the commonwealth forbidding the marriage of a
widow within a specified period after the death of her husband. That
period had not, in Octavia's case, yet expired. There was, however, so
strong a desire that no obstacle should be allowed to prevent this
proposed union, or even to occasion delay, that the law was altered
expressly for this case, and Antony and Octavia were married. The empire
was divided between Octavius and Antony, Octavius receiving the western
portion as his share, while the eastern was assigned to Antony.
It is not probable that Antony felt any very strong affection for his new
wife, beautiful and gentle as she was. A man, in fact, who had led such a
life as his had been, must have become by this time incapable of any
strong and pure attachment. He, however, was pleased with the novelty of
his acquisition, and seemed to forget for a time the loss of Cleopatra. He
remained with Octavia a year. After that he went away on certain military
enterprises which kept him some time from her. He returned again, and
again he went away. All this time Octavia's influence over him and over
her brother was of the most salutary and excellent character. She soothed
their animosities, quieted their suspicions and jealousies, and at one
time, when they were on the brink of open war, she effected a
reconciliation between them by the most courageous and energetic, and at
the same time, gentle and unassuming efforts. At the time of this danger
she was with her husband in Greece; but she persuaded him to send her to
her brother at Rome, saying that she was confident that she could arrange
a settlement of the difficulties impending. Antony allowed her to go. She
proceeded to Rome, and procured an interview with her brother in the
presence of his two principal officers of state. Here she pleaded her
husband's cause with tears in her eyes; she defended his conduct,
explained what seemed to be against him, and entreated her brother not to
take such a course as should cast her down from being the happiest of
women to being the most miserable. "Consider the circumstances of my
case," said she. "The eyes of the world are upon me. Of the two most
powerful men in the world, I am the wife of one and the sister of another.
If you allow rash counsels to go on and war to ensue, I am hopelessly
ruined; for, whichever is conquered, my husband or my brother, my own
happiness will be for ever gone."
Octavius sincerely loved his sister, and he was so far softened by her
entreaties that he consented to appoint an interview with Antony in order
to see if their difficulties could be settled. This interview was
accordingly held. The two generals came to a river, where, at the opposite
banks, each embarked in a boat, and, being rowed out toward each other,
they met in the middle of the stream. A conference ensued, at which all
the questions at issue were, for a time at least, very happily arranged.
Antony, however, after a time, began to become tired of his wife, and to
sigh for Cleopatra once more. He left Octavia at Rome and proceeded to
the eastward, under pretense of attending to the affairs of that portion
of the empire; but, instead of doing this, he went to Alexandria, and
there renewed again his former intimacy with the Egyptian queen.
Octavius was very indignant at this. His former hostility to Antony, which
had been in a measure appeased by the kind influence of Octavia, now broke
forth anew, and was heightened by the feeling of resentment naturally
awakened by his sister's wrongs. Public sentiment in Rome, too, was
setting very strongly against Antony. Lampoons were written against him to
ridicule him and Cleopatra, and the most decided censures were passed upon
his conduct. Octavia was universally beloved, and the sympathy which was
every where felt for her increased and heightened very much the popular
indignation which was felt against the man who could wrong so deeply such
sweetness, and gentleness, and affectionate fidelity as hers.
After remaining for some time in Alexandria, and renewing his connection
and intimacy with Cleopatra, Antony went away again, crossing the sea into
Asia, with the intention of prosecuting certain military undertakings
there which imperiously demanded his attention. His plan was to return as
soon as possible to Egypt after the object of his expedition should be
accomplished. He found, however, that he could not bear even a temporary
absence from Cleopatra. His mind dwelled so much upon her, and upon the
pleasures which he had enjoyed with her in Egypt, and he longed so much to
see her again, that he was wholly unfit for the discharge of his duties in
the camp. He became timid, inefficient, and remiss, and almost every thing
that he undertook ended disastrously. The army, who understood perfectly
well the reason of their commander's remissness and consequent ill
fortune, were extremely indignant at his conduct, and the camp was filled
with suppressed murmurs and complaints. Antony, however, like other
persons in his situation, was blind to all these indications of
dissatisfaction; probably he would have disregarded them if he had
observed them. At length, finding that he could bear his absence from his
mistress no longer, he set out to march across the country, in the depth
of the winter, to the sea-shore, to a point where he had sent for
Cleopatra to come to join him. The army endured incredible hardships and
exposures in this march. When Antony had once commenced the journey, he
was so impatient to get forward that he compelled his troops to advance
with a rapidity greater than their strength would bear. They were,
besides, not provided with proper tents or with proper supplies of
provision. They were often obliged, therefore, after a long and fatiguing
march during the day, to bivouac at night in the open air among the
mountains, with scanty means of appeasing their hunger, and very little
shelter from the cold rain, or from the storms of driving snow. Eight
thousand men died on this march, from cold, fatigue, and exposure; a
greater sacrifice, perhaps, than had ever been made before to the mere
ardor and impatience of a lover.
When Antony reached the shore, he advanced to a certain sea-port, near
Sidon, where Cleopatra was to land. At the time of his arrival but a small
part of his army was left, and the few men that survived were in a
miserably destitute condition. Antony's eagerness to see Cleopatra became
more and more excited as the time drew nigh. She did not come so soon as
he had expected, and during the delay he seemed to pine away under the
influence of love and sorrow. He was silent, absent-minded, and sad. He
had no thoughts for any thing but the coming of Cleopatra, and felt no
interest in any other plans. He watched for her incessantly, and would
sometimes leave his place at the table, in the midst of the supper, and go
down alone to the shore, where he would stand gazing out upon the sea, and
saying mournfully to himself, "Why does not she come?" The animosity and
the ridicule which these things awakened against him, on the part of the
army, were extreme; but he was so utterly infatuated that he disregarded
all the manifestations of public sentiment around him, and continued to
allow his mind to be wholly engrossed with the single idea of Cleopatra's
coming.
She arrived at last. She brought a great supply of clothes and other
necessaries for the use of Antony's army, so that her coming not only
gratified his love, but afforded him, also, a very essential relief, in
respect to the military difficulties in which he was involved.
After some time spent in the enjoyment of the pleasure which being thus
reunited to Cleopatra afforded him, Antony began again to think of the
affairs of his government, which every month more and more imperiously
demanded his attention. He began to receive urgent calls from various
quarters, urging him to action. In the mean time, Octavia--who had been
all this while waiting in distress and anxiety at Rome, hearing
continually the most gloomy accounts of her husband's affairs, and the
most humiliating tidings in respect to his infatuated devotion to
Cleopatra--resolved to make one more effort to save him. She interceded
with her brother to allow her to raise troops and to collect supplies, and
then proceed to the eastward to re-enforce him. Octavius consented to
this. He, in fact, assisted Octavia in making her preparations. It is
said, however, that he was influenced in this plan by his confident belief
that this noble attempt of his sister to reclaim her husband would fail,
and that, by the failure of it, Antony would be put in the wrong, in the
estimation of the Roman people, more absolutely and hopelessly than ever,
and that the way would thus be prepared for his complete and final
destruction.
Octavia was rejoiced to obtain her brother's aid to her undertaking,
whatever the motive might be which induced him to afford it. She
accordingly levied a considerable body of troops, raised a large sum of
money, provided clothes, and tents, and military stores for the army; and
when all was ready, she left Italy and put to sea, having previously
dispatched a messenger to her husband to inform him that she was coming.
Cleopatra began now to be afraid that she was to lose Antony again, and
she at once began to resort to the usual artifices employed in such cases,
in order to retain her power over him. She said nothing, but assumed the
appearance of one pining under the influence of some secret suffering or
sorrow. She contrived to be often surprised in tears. In such cases she
would hastily brush her tears away, and assume a countenance of smiles and
good humor, as if making every effort to be happy, though really oppressed
with a heavy burden of anxiety and grief. When Antony was near her she
would seem overjoyed at his presence, and gaze upon him with an expression
of the most devoted fondness. When absent from him, she spent her time
alone, always silent and dejected, and often in tears; and she took care
that the secret sorrows and sufferings that she endured should be duly
made known to Antony, and that he should understand that they were all
occasioned by her love for him, and by the danger which she apprehended
that he was about to leave her.
The friends and secret agents of Cleopatra, who reported these things to
Antony, made, moreover, direct representations to him, for the purpose of
inclining his mind in her favor. They had, in fact, the astonishing
audacity to argue that Cleopatra's claims upon Antony for a continuance of
his love were paramount to those of Octavia. She, that is, Octavia, had
been his wife, they said, only for a very short time. Cleopatra had been
most devotedly attached to him for many years. Octavia was married to him,
they alleged, not under the impulse of love, but from political
considerations alone, to please her brother, and to ratify and confirm a
political league made with him. Cleopatra, on the other hand, had given
herself up to him in the most absolute and unconditional manner, under the
influence solely of a personal affection which she could not control. She
had surrendered and sacrificed every thing to him. For him she had lost
her good name, alienated the affections of her subjects, made herself the
object of reproach and censure to all mankind, and now she had left her
native land to come and join him in his adverse fortunes. Considering how
much she had done, and suffered, and sacrificed for his sake, it would be
extreme and unjustifiable cruelty in him to forsake her now. She never
would survive such an abandonment. Her whole soul was so wrapped up in
him, that she would pine away and die if he were now to forsake her.
Antony was distressed and agitated beyond measure by the entanglements in
which he found that he was involved. His duty, his inclination perhaps,
certainly his ambition, and every dictate of prudence and policy, required
that he should break away from these snares at once and go to meet
Octavia. But the spell that bound him was too mighty to be dissolved. He
yielded to Cleopatra's sorrows and tears. He dispatched a messenger to
Octavia, who had by this time reached Athens, in Greece, directing her not
to come any farther. Octavia, who seemed incapable of resentment or anger
against her husband, sent back to ask what she should do with the troops,
and money, and the military stores which she was bringing. Antony directed
her to leave them in Greece. Octavia did so, and mournfully returned to
her home.
As soon as she arrived at Rome, Octavius, her brother, whose indignation
was now thoroughly aroused at the baseness of Antony, sent to his sister
to say that she must leave Antony's house and come to him. A proper
self-respect, he said, forbade her remaining any longer under the roof of
such a man. Octavia replied that she would not leave her husband's house.
That house was her post of duty, whatever her husband might do, and there
she would remain. She accordingly retired within the precincts of her old
home, and devoted herself in patient and uncomplaining sorrow to the care
of the family and the children. Among these children was one young son of
Antony's, born during his marriage with her predecessor Fulvia. In the
mean time, while Octavia was thus faithfully though mournfully fulfilling
her duties as wife and mother, in her husband's house at Rome, Antony
himself had gone with Cleopatra to Alexandria, and was abandoning himself
once more to a life of guilty pleasure there. The greatness of mind which
this beautiful and devoted wife thus displayed, attracted the admiration
of all mankind. It produced, however, one other effect, which Octavia must
have greatly deprecated. It aroused a strong and universal feeling of
indignation against the unworthy object toward whom this extraordinary
magnanimity was displayed.
In the mean time, Antony gave himself up wholly to Cleopatra's influence
and control, and managed all the affairs of the Roman empire in the East
in the way best fitted to promote her aggrandizement and honor. He made
Alexandria his capital, celebrated triumphs there, arranged ostentatious
expeditions into Asia and Syria with Cleopatra and her train, gave her
whole provinces as presents, and exalted her two sons, Alexander and
Ptolemy, children born during the period of his first acquaintance with
her, to positions of the highest rank and station, as his own acknowledged
sons. The consequences of these and similar measures at Rome were fatal to
Antony's character and standing. Octavius reported every thing to the
Roman senate and people, and made Antony's misgovernment and his various
misdemeanors the ground of the heaviest accusations against him. Antony,
hearing of these things, sent his agents to Rome and made accusations
against Octavius; but these counter accusations were of no avail. Public
sentiment was very strong and decided against him at the capital, and
Octavius began to prepare for war.
Antony perceived that he must prepare to defend himself. Cleopatra entered
into the plans which he formed for this purpose with great ardor. Antony
began to levy troops, and collect and equip galleys and ships of war, and
to make requisitions of money and military stores from all the eastern
provinces and kingdoms. Cleopatra put all the resources of Egypt at his
disposal. She furnished him with immense sums of money, and with an
inexhaustible supply of corn, which she procured for this purpose from her
dominions in the valley of the Nile. The various divisions of the immense
armament which was thus provided for were ordered to rendezvous at
Ephesus, where Antony and Cleopatra were awaiting to receive them, having
proceeded there when their arrangements in Egypt were completed, and they
were ready to commence the campaign.
When all was ready for the expedition to set sail from Ephesus, it was
Antony's judgment that it would be best for Cleopatra to return to Egypt,
and leave him to go forth with the fleet to meet Octavius alone. Cleopatra
was, however, determined not to go away. She did not dare to leave Antony
at all to himself, for fear that in some way or other a peace would be
effected between himself and Octavius, which would result in his returning
to Octavia and abandoning _her_. She accordingly contrived to persuade
Antony to retain her with him, by bribing his chief counselor to advise
him to do so. His counselor's name was Canidius. Canidius, having received
Cleopatra's money, while yet he pretended to be wholly disinterested in
his advice, represented to Antony that it would not be reasonable to send
Cleopatra away, and deprive her of all participation in the glory of the
war, when she was defraying so large a part of the expense of it. Besides,
a large portion of the army consisted of Egyptian troops, who would feel
discouraged and disheartened if Cleopatra were to leave them, and would
probably act far less efficiently in the conflict than they would do if
animated by the presence of their queen. Then, moreover, such a woman as
Cleopatra was not to be considered, as many women would be, an
embarrassment and a source of care to a military expedition which she
might join, but a very efficient counselor and aid to it. She was, he
said, a very sagacious, energetic, and powerful queen, accustomed to the
command of armies and to the management of affairs of state, and her aid
in the conduct of the expedition might be expected to conduce very
materially to its success.
Antony was easily won by such persuasions as these, and it was at length
decided that Cleopatra should accompany him.
Antony then ordered the fleet to move forward to the island of Samos.[9]
Here it was brought to anchor and remained for some time, waiting for the
coming in of new re-enforcements, and for the completion of the other
arrangements. Antony, as if becoming more and more infatuated as he
approached the brink of his ruin, spent his time while the expedition
remained at Samos, not in maturing his plans and perfecting his
arrangements for the tremendous conflict which was approaching, but in
festivities, games, revelings, and every species of riot and dissolute
excess. This, however, is not surprising. Men almost always, when in a
situation analogous to his, fly to similar means of protecting themselves,
in some small degree, from the pangs of remorse, and from the forebodings
which stand ready to terrify and torment them at every instant in which
these gloomy specters are not driven away by intoxication and revelry. At
least Antony found it so. Accordingly, an immense company of players,
tumblers, fools, jesters, and mountebanks were ordered to assemble at
Samos, and to devote themselves with all zeal to the amusement of
Antony's court. The island was one universal scene of riot and revelry.
People were astonished at such celebrations and displays, wholly
unsuitable, as they considered them, to the occasion. If such are the
rejoicings, said they, which Antony celebrates before going into the
battle, what festivities will he contrive on his return, joyous enough to
express his pleasure if he shall gain the victory?
After a time, Antony and Cleopatra, with a magnificent train of
attendants, left Samos, and, passing across the Ægean Sea, landed in
Greece, and advanced to Athens; while the fleet, proceeding westward from
Samos, passed around Tænarus, the southern promontory of Greece, and then
moved northward along the western coast of the peninsula. Cleopatra wished
to go to Athens for a special reason. It was there that Octavia had
stopped on her journey toward her husband with re-enforcements and aid;
and while she was there, the people of Athens, pitying her sad condition,
and admiring the noble spirit of mind which she displayed in her
misfortunes, had paid her great attention, and during her stay among them
had bestowed upon her many honors. Cleopatra now wished to go to the same
place, and to triumph over her rival there, by making so great a display
of her wealth and magnificence, and of her ascendency over the mind of
Antony, as should entirely transcend and outshine the more unassuming
pretensions of Octavia. She was not willing, it seems, to leave to the
unhappy wife whom she had so cruelly wronged even the possession of a
place in the hearts of the people of this foreign city, but must go and
enviously strive to efface the impression which injured innocence had
made, by an ostentatious exhibition of the triumphant prosperity of her
own shameless wickedness. She succeeded well in her plans. The people of
Athens were amazed and bewildered at the immense magnificence that
Cleopatra exhibited before them. She distributed vast sums of money among
the people. The city, in return, decreed to her the most exalted honors.
They sent a solemn embassy to her to present her with these decrees.
Antony himself, in the character of a citizen of Athens, was one of the
embassadors. Cleopatra received the deputation at her palace. The
reception was attended with the most splendid and imposing ceremonies.
One would have supposed that Cleopatra's cruel and unnatural hostility to
Octavia might now have been satisfied; but it was not. Antony, while he
was at Athens, and doubtless at Cleopatra's instigation, sent a messenger
to Rome with a notice of divorcement to Octavia, and with an order that
she should leave his house. Octavia obeyed. She went forth from her home,
taking the children with her, and bitterly lamenting her cruel destiny.
In the mean time, while all these events had been transpiring in the East,
Octavius had been making his preparations for the coming crisis, and was
now advancing with a powerful fleet across the sea. He was armed with
authority from the Roman senate and people, for he had obtained from them
a decree deposing Antony from his power. The charges made against him all
related to misdemeanors and offenses arising out of his connection with
Cleopatra. Octavius contrived to get possession of a will which Antony had
written before leaving Rome, and which he had placed there in what he
supposed a very sacred place of deposit. The custodians who had it in
charge replied to Octavius, when he demanded it, that they would not give
it to him, but if he wished to take it they would not hinder him. Octavius
then took the will, and read it to the Roman senate. It provided, among
other things, that at his death, if his death should happen at Rome, his
body should be sent to Alexandria to be given to Cleopatra; and it evinced
in other ways a degree of subserviency and devotedness to the Egyptian
queen which was considered wholly unworthy of a Roman chief magistrate.
Antony was accused, too, of having plundered cities and provinces to make
presents to Cleopatra; of having sent a library of two hundred thousand
volumes to her from Pergamus, to replace the one which Julius Cæsar had
accidentally burned; of having raised her sons, ignoble as their birth
was, to high places of trust and power in the Roman government, and of
having in many ways compromised the dignity of a Roman officer by his
unworthy conduct in reference to her. He used, for example, when presiding
at a judicial tribunal, to receive love-letters sent him from Cleopatra,
and then at once turn off his attention from the proceedings going forward
before him to read the letters.[10] Sometimes he did this when sitting in
the chair of state, giving audience to embassadors and princes. Cleopatra
probably sent these letters in at such times under the influence of a
wanton disposition to show her power. At one time, as Octavius said in his
arguments before the Roman senate, Antony was hearing a cause of the
greatest importance, and during a time in the progress of the cause when
one of the principal orators of the city was addressing him, Cleopatra
came passing by, when Antony suddenly arose, and, leaving the court
without any ceremony, ran out to follow her. These and a thousand similar
tales exhibited Antony in so odious a light, that his friends forsook his
cause, and his enemies gained a complete triumph. The decree was passed
against him, and Octavius was authorized to carry it into effect; and
accordingly, while Antony, with his fleet and army, was moving westward
from Samos and the Ægean Sea, Octavius was coming eastward and southward
down the Adriatic to meet him.
In process of time, after various maneuvers and delays, the two armaments
came into the vicinity of each other at a place called Actium, which will
be found upon the map on the western coast of Epirus, north of Greece.
Both of the commanders had powerful fleets at sea, and both had great
armies upon the land. Antony was strongest in land troops, but his fleet
was inferior to that of Octavius, and he was himself inclined to remain on
the land and fight the principal battle there. But Cleopatra would not
consent to this. She urged him to give Octavius battle at sea. The motive
which induced her to do this has been supposed to be her wish to provide a
more sure way of escape in case of an unfavorable issue to the conflict.
She thought that in her galleys she could make sail at once across the sea
to Alexandria in case of defeat, whereas she knew not what would become of
her if beaten at the head of an army on the land. The ablest counselors
and chief officers in the army urged Antony very strongly not to trust
himself to the sea. To all their arguments and remonstrances, however,
Antony turned a deaf ear. Cleopatra must be allowed to have her way.
On the morning of the battle, when the ships were drawn up in array,
Cleopatra held the command of a division of fifty or sixty Egyptian
vessels, which were all completely manned, and well equipped with masts
and sails. She took good care to have every thing in perfect order for
flight, in case flight should prove to be necessary. With these ships she
took a station in reserve, and for a time remained there a quiet witness
of the battle. The ships of Octavius advanced to the attack of those of
Antony, and the men fought from deck to deck with spears, boarding-pikes,
flaming darts, and every other destructive missile which the military art
had then devised. Antony's ships had to contend against great
disadvantages. They were not only outnumbered by those of Octavius, but
were far surpassed by them in the efficiency with which they were manned
and armed. Still, it was a very obstinate conflict. Cleopatra, however,
did not wait to see how it was to be finally decided. As Antony's forces
did not immediately gain the victory, she soon began to yield to her fears
in respect to the result, and, finally, fell into a panic and resolved to
fly. She ordered the oars to be manned and the sails to be hoisted, and
then forcing her way through a portion of the fleet that was engaged in
the contest, and throwing the vessels into confusion as she passed, she
succeeded in getting to sea, and then pressed on, under full sail, down
the coast to the southward. Antony, as soon as he perceived that she was
going, abandoning every other thought, and impelled by his insane
devotedness to her, hastily called up a galley of five banks of oars, and,
leaping on board of it, ordered the oarsmen to pull with all their force
after Cleopatra's flying squadron.
Cleopatra, looking back from the deck of her vessel, saw this swift galley
pressing on toward her. She raised a signal at the stern of the vessel
which she was in, that Antony might know for which of the fifty flying
ships he was to steer. Guided by the signal, Antony came up to the vessel,
and the sailors hoisted him up the side and helped him in. Cleopatra had,
however, disappeared. Overcome with shame and confusion, she did not dare,
it seems, to meet the look of the wretched victim of her arts whom she had
now irretrievably ruined. Antony did not seek her. He did not speak a
word. He went forward to the prow of the ship, and, throwing himself down
there alone, pressed his head between his hands, and seemed stunned and
stupefied, and utterly overwhelmed with horror and despair.
He was, however, soon aroused from his stupor by an alarm raised on board
his galley that they were pursued. He rose from his seat, seized a spear,
and, on ascending to the quarter-deck, saw that there were a number of
small light boats, full of men and of arms, coming up behind them, and
gaining rapidly upon his galley. Antony, now free for a moment from his
enchantress's sway, and acting under the impulse of his own indomitable
boldness and decision, instead of urging the oarsmen to press forward more
rapidly in order to make good their escape, ordered the helm to be put
about, and thus, turning the galley around, he faced his pursuers, and
drove his ship into the midst of them. A violent conflict ensued, the din
and confusion of which was increased by the shocks and collisions between
the boats and the galley. In the end, the boats were beaten off, all
excepting one: that one kept still hovering near, and the commander of it,
who stood upon the deck, poising his spear with an aim at Antony, and
seeking eagerly an opportunity to throw it, seemed by his attitude and the
expression of his countenance to be animated by some peculiarly bitter
feeling of hostility and hate. Antony asked him who he was, that dared so
fiercely to threaten _him_. The man replied by giving his name, and saying
that he came to avenge the death of his father. It proved that he was the
son of a man whom Antony had at a previous time, on some account or
other, caused to be beheaded.
There followed an obstinate contest between Antony and this fierce
assailant, in the end of which the latter was beaten off. The boats then,
having succeeded in making some prizes from Antony's fleet, though they
had failed in capturing Antony himself, gave up the pursuit and returned.
Antony then went back to his place, sat down in the prow, buried his face
in his hands, and sank into the same condition of hopeless distress and
anguish as before.
When husband and wife are overwhelmed with misfortune and suffering, each
instinctively seeks a refuge in the sympathy and support of the other. It
is, however, far otherwise with such connections as that of Antony and
Cleopatra. Conscience, which remains calm and quiet in prosperity and
sunshine, rises up with sudden and unexpected violence as soon as the hour
of calamity comes; and thus, instead of mutual comfort and help, each
finds in the thoughts of the other only the means of adding the horrors of
remorse to the anguish of disappointment and despair. So extreme was
Antony's distress, that for three days he and Cleopatra neither saw nor
spoke to each other. She was overwhelmed with confusion and chagrin, and
he was in such a condition of mental excitement that she did not dare to
approach him. In a word, reason seemed to have wholly lost its sway--his
mind, in the alternations of his insanity, rising sometimes to fearful
excitement, in paroxysms of uncontrollable rage, and then sinking again
for a time into the stupor of despair.
In the mean time, the ships were passing down as rapidly as possible on
the western coast of Greece. When they reached Tænarus, the southern
promontory of the peninsula, it was necessary to pause and consider what
was to be done. Cleopatra's women went to Antony and attempted to quiet
and calm him. They brought him food. They persuaded him to see Cleopatra.
A great number of merchant ships from the ports along the coast gathered
around Antony's little fleet and offered their services. His cause, they
said, was by no means desperate. The army on the land had not been beaten.
It was not even certain that his fleet had been conquered. They endeavored
thus to revive the ruined commander's sinking courage, and to urge him to
make a new effort to retrieve his fortunes. But all was in vain. Antony
was sunk in a hopeless despondency. Cleopatra was determined on going to
Egypt, and he must go too. He distributed what treasure remained at his
disposal among his immediate followers and friends, and gave them advice
about the means of concealing themselves until they could make peace with
Octavius. Then, giving up all as lost, he followed Cleopatra across the
sea to Alexandria.