Cleopatra

CHAPTER VII.

THE ALEXANDRINE WAR.

The Alexandrine war.--Forces of Caesar.--The Egyptian army.--Fugitive
slaves.--Dangerous situation of Caesar.--Presence of Caesar.--Influence of
Cleopatra.--First measures of Caesar.--Caesar's stores.--Military
engines.--The mole.--View of Alexandria.--Necessity of taking possession
of the mole.--Egyptian fleet.--Caesar burns the shipping.--The fort
taken.--Burning of Alexandria.--Achillas beheaded.--Plans of
Ganymede.--His vigorous measures.--Messengers of Ganymede.--Their
instructions.--Ganymede cuts off Caesar's supply of water.--Panic of the
soldiers.--Caesar's wells.--Arrival of the transports.--The transports in
distress.--Lowness of the coast.--A combat.--Caesar successful.
--Ganymede equips a fleet.--A naval conflict.--Caesar in danger.
--Another victory.--The Egyptians discouraged.--Secret messengers.
--Dissimulation of Ptolemy--Arrival of Mithradates.--Defeat of Ptolemy.
--Terror and confusion.--Death of Ptolemy.--Cleopatra queen.--General
disapprobation of Caesar's course.--Cleopatra's son Caesarion.--Public
opinion of her conduct.--Caesar departs for Rome.--He takes Arsinoe with
him.


The war which ensued as the result of the intrigues and maneuvers
described in the last chapter is known in the history of Rome and Julius
Caesar as the Alexandrine war. The events which occurred during the
progress of it, and its termination at last in the triumph of Caesar and
Cleopatra, will form the subject of this chapter.

Achillas had greatly the advantage over Caesar at the outset of the
contest, in respect to the strength of the forces under his command.
Caesar, in fact, had with him only a detachment of three or four thousand
men, a small body of troops which he had hastily put on board a little
squadron of Rhodian galleys for pursuing Pompey across the
Mediterranean. When he set sail from the European shores with this
inconsiderable fleet, it is probable that he had no expectation even of
landing in Egypt at all, and much less of being involved in great
military undertakings there. Achillas, on the other hand, was at the
head of a force of twenty-thousand effective men. His troops were, it is
true, of a somewhat miscellaneous character, but they were all veteran
soldiers, inured to the climate of Egypt, and skilled in all the modes
of warfare which were suited to the character of the country. Some of
them were Roman soldiers, men who had come with the army of Mark Antony
from Syria when Ptolemy Auletes, Cleopatra's father, was reinstated on
the throne, and had been left in Egypt, in Ptolemy's service, when
Antony returned to Rome. Some were native Egyptians. There was also in
the army of Achillas a large number of fugitive slaves,--refugees who
had made their escape from various points along the shores of the
Mediterranean, at different periods, and had been from time to time
incorporated into the Egyptian army. These fugitives were all men of the
most determined and desperate character.

Achillas had also in his command a force of two thousand horse. Such a
body of cavalry made him, of course, perfect master of all the open
country outside the city walls. At the head of these troops Achillas
gradually advanced to the very gates of Alexandria, invested the city on
every side, and shut Caesar closely in.

The danger of the situation in which Caesar was placed was extreme; but
he had been so accustomed to succeed in extricating himself from the
most imminent perils, that neither he himself nor his army seem to have
experienced any concern in respect to the result. Caesar personally felt
a special pride and pleasure in encountering the difficulties and
dangers which now beset him, because Cleopatra was with him to witness
his demeanor, to admire his energy and courage, and to reward by her
love the efforts and sacrifices which he was making in espousing her
cause. She confided every thing to him, but she watched all the
proceedings with the most eager interest, elated with hope in respect to
the result, and proud of the champion who had thus volunteered to defend
her. In a word, her heart was full of gratitude, admiration, and love.

The immediate effect, too, of the emotions which she felt so strongly
was greatly to heighten her natural charms. The native force and energy
of her character were softened and subdued. Her voice, which always
possessed a certain inexpressible charm, was endued with new sweetness
through the influence of affection. Her countenance beamed with fresh
animation and beauty, and the sprightliness and vivacity of her
character, which became at later periods of her life boldness and
eccentricity, now being softened and restrained within proper limits by
the respectful regard with which she looked upon Caesar, made her an
enchanting companion. Caesar was, in fact, entirely intoxicated with the
fascinations which she unconsciously displayed.

Under other circumstances than these, a personal attachment so strong,
formed by a military commander while engaged in active service, might
have been expected to interfere in some degree with the discharge of his
duties; but in this case, since it was for Cleopatra's sake and her
behalf that the operations which Caesar had undertaken were to be
prosecuted, his love for her only stimulated the spirit and energy with
which he engaged in them.

The first measure to be adopted was, as Caesar plainly perceived, to
concentrate and strengthen his position in the city, so that he might be
able to defend himself there against Achillas until he should receive
re-enforcements from abroad. For this purpose he selected a certain
group of palaces and citadels which lay together near the head of the
long pier of cause way which led to the Pharos, and, withdrawing his
troops from all other parts of the city, established them there. The
quarter which he thus occupied contained the great city arsenals and
public granaries. Caesar brought together all the arms and munitions of
war which he could find in other parts of the city, and also all the
corn and other provisions which were contained either in the public
depτts or in private warehouses, and stored the whole within his lines.
He then inclosed the whole quarter with strong defenses. The avenues
leading to it were barricaded with walls of stone. Houses in the
vicinity, which might have afforded shelter to an enemy, were demolished
and the materials used in constructing walls wherever they were needed,
or in strengthening the barricades. Prodigious military engines, made to
throw heavy stones, and beams of wood, and other ponderous missiles,
were set up within his lines, and openings were made in the walls and
other defenses of the citadel, wherever necessary, to facilitate the
action of these machines.

There was a strong fortress situated at the head of the pier or mole
leading to the island of Pharos, which was without Caesar's lines, and
still in the hands of the Egyptian authorities. The Egyptians thus
commanded the entrance to the mole. The island itself, also, with the
fortress at the other end of the pier, was still in the possession of
the Egyptian authorities, who seemed disposed to hold it for Achillas.
The mole was very long, as the island was nearly a mile from the shore.
There was quite a little town upon the island itself, besides the
fortress or castle built there to defend the place. The garrison of this
castle was strong, and the inhabitants of the town, too, constituted a
somewhat formidable population, as they consisted of fishermen, sailors,
wreckers, and such other desperate characters, as usually congregate
about such a spot. Cleopatra and Caesar, from the windows of their palace
within the city, looked out upon this island, with the tall light house
rising in the center of it and the castle at its base, and upon the long
and narrow isthmus connecting it with the main land, and concluded that
it was very essential that they should get possession of the post,
commanding, as it did, the entrance to the harbor.

In the harbor, which was on the south side of the mole, and,
consequently, on the side opposite to that from which Achillas was
advancing toward the city, there were lying a large number of Egyptian
vessels, some dismantled, and others manned and armed more or less
effectively. These vessels had not yet come into Achillas's hands, but
it would be certain that he would take possession of them as soon as he
should gain admittance to those parts of the city which Caesar had
abandoned. This it was extremely important to prevent; for, if Achillas
held this fleet, especially if he continued to command the island of
Pharos, he would be perfect master of all the approaches to the city on
the side of the sea. He could then not only receive re-enforcements and
supplies himself from that quarter, but he could also effectually cut
off the Roman army from all possibility of receiving any. It became,
therefore, as Caesar thought, imperiously necessary that he should
protect himself from this danger. This he did by sending out an
expedition to burn all the shipping in the harbor, and, at the same
time, to take possession of a certain fort upon the island of Pharos
which commanded the entrance to the port. This undertaking was
abundantly successful. The troops burned the shipping, took the fort,
expelled the Egyptian soldiers from it, and put a Roman garrison into it
instead, and then returned in safety within Caesar's lines. Cleopatra
witnessed these exploits from her palace windows with feelings of the
highest admiration for the energy and valor which her Roman protectors
displayed.

The burning of the Egyptian ships in this action, however fortunate for
Cleopatra and Caesar, was attended with a catastrophe which has ever
since been lamented by the whole civilized world. Some of the burning
ships were driven by the wind to the shore, where they set fire to the
buildings which were contiguous to the water. The flames spread and
produced an extensive conflagration, in the course of which the largest
part of the great library was destroyed. This library was the only
general collection of the ancient writings that ever had been made, and
the loss of it was never repaired.

The destruction of the Egyptian fleet resulted also in the downfall and
ruin of Achillas. From the time of Arsinoe's arrival in the camp there
had been a constant rivalry and jealousy between himself and Ganymede,
the eunuch who had accompanied Arsinoe in her flight. Two parties had
been formed in the army, some declaring for Achillas and some for
Ganymede. Arsinoe advocated Ganymede's interests, and when, at length,
the fleet was burned, she charged Achillas with having been, by his
neglect or incapacity, the cause of the loss. Achillas was tried,
condemned, and beheaded. From that time Ganymede assumed the
administration of Arsinoe's government as her minister of state and the
commander-in-chief of her armies.

About the time that these occurrences took place, the Egyptian army
advanced into those parts of the city from which Caesar had withdrawn,
producing those terrible scenes of panic and confusion which always
attend a sudden and violent change of military possession within the
precincts of a city. Ganymede brought up his troops on every side to the
walls of Caesar's citadels and intrenchments, and hemmed him closely in.
He cut off all avenues of approach to Caesar's lines by land, and
commenced vigorous preparations for an assault. He constructed engines
for battering down the walls. He opened shops and established forges in
every part of the city for the manufacture of darts, spears, pikes, and
all kinds of military machinery. He built towers supported upon huge
wheels, with the design of filling them with armed men when finally
ready to make his assault upon Caesar's lines, and moving them up to the
walls of the citadels and palaces, so as to give to his soldiers the
advantage of a lofty elevation in making their attacks. He levied
contributions on the rich citizens for the necessary funds, and provided
himself with men by pressing all the artisans, laborers, and men capable
of bearing arms into his service. He sent messengers back into the
interior of the country, in every direction, summoning the people to
arms, and calling for contributions of money and military stores.

These messengers were instructed to urge upon the people that, unless
Caesar and his army were at once expelled from Alexandria, there was
imminent danger that the national independence of Egypt would be forever
destroyed. The Romans, they were to say, had extended their conquests
over almost all the rest of the world. They had sent one army into Egypt
before, under the command of Mark Antony, under the pretense of
restoring Ptolemy Auletes to the throne. Now another commander, with
another force, had come, offering some other pretexts for interfering in
their affairs. These Roman encroachments, the messengers were to say,
would end in the complete subjugation of Egypt to a foreign power,
unless the people of the country aroused themselves to meet the danger
manfully, and to expel the intruders.

As Caesar had possession of the island of Pharos and of the harbor,
Ganymede could not cut him off from receiving such re-enforcements of
men and arms as he might make arrangements for obtaining beyond the sea;
nor could he curtail his supply of food, as the granaries and magazines
within Caesar's quarter of the city contained almost inexhaustible stores
of corn. There was one remaining point essential to the subsistence of
an army besieged, and that was an abundant supply of water. The palaces
and citadels which Caesar occupied were supplied with water by means of
numerous subterranean aqueducts, which conveyed the water from the Nile
to vast cisterns built under ground, whence it was raised by buckets and
hydraulic engines for use. In reflecting upon this circumstance,
Ganymede conceived the design of secretly digging a canal, so as to turn
the waters of the sea by means of it into these aqueducts. This plan he
carried into effect. The consequence was, that the water in the cisterns
was gradually changed. It became first brackish, then more and more salt
and bitter, until, at length, it was wholly impossible to use it. For
some time the army within could not understand these changes; and when,
at length, they discovered the cause the soldiers were panic-stricken at
the thought, that they were now apparently wholly at the mercy of their
enemies, since, without supplies of water, they must all immediately
perish. They considered it hopeless to attempt any longer to hold out,
and urged Caesar to evacuate the city, embark on board his galleys, and
proceed to sea.

Instead of doing this, however, Caesar, ordering all other operations to
be suspended, employed the whole laboring force of his command, under
the direction of the captains of the several companies, in digging wells
in every part of his quarter of the city. Fresh water, he said, was
almost invariably found, at a moderate depth, upon sea-coasts, even upon
ground lying in very close proximity to the sea. The digging was
successful. Fresh water, in great abundance, was found. Thus this danger
was passed, and the men's fears effectually relieved.

A short time after these transactions occurred, there came into the
harbor one day, from along the shore west of the city, a small sloop,
bringing the intelligence that a squadron of transports had arrived upon
the coast to the westward of Alexandria, and had anchored there, being
unable to come up to the city on account of an easterly wind which
prevailed at that season of the year. This squadron was one which had
been sent across the Mediterranean with arms, ammunition, and military
stores for Caesar, in answer to requisitions which he had made
immediately after he had landed. The transports being thus windbound on
the coast, and having nearly exhausted their supplies of water, were in
distress; and they accordingly sent forward the sloop, which was
probably propelled by oars, to make known their situation to Caesar, and
to ask for succor. Caesar immediately went, himself, on board of one of
his galleys, and ordering the remainder of his little fleet to follow
him, he set sail out of the harbor, and then turned to the westward,
with a view of proceeding along the coast to the place where the
transports were lying.

All this was done secretly. The land is so low in the vicinity of
Alexandria that boats or galleys are out of sight from it at a very
short distance from the shore. In fact, travelers say that, in coming
upon the coast, the illusion produced by the spherical form of the
surface of the water and the low and level character of the coast is
such that one seems actually to descend from the sea to the land. Caesar
might therefore have easily kept his expedition a secret, had it not
been that, in order to be provided with a supply of water for the
transports immediately on reaching them, he stopped at a solitary part
of the coast, at some distance from Alexandria, and sent a party a
little way into the interior in search for water. This party were
discovered by the country people, and were intercepted by a troop of
horse and made prisoners. From these prisoners the Egyptians learned
that Caesar himself was on the coast with a small squadron of galleys.
The tidings spread in all directions. The people flocked together from
every quarter. They hastily collected all the boats and vessels which
could be obtained at the villages in that region and from the various
branches of the Nile. In the mean time, Caesar had gone on to the
anchorage ground of the squadron, and had taken the transports in tow to
bring them to the city; for the galleys, being propelled by oars, were
in a measure independent of the wind. On his return, he found quite a
formidable naval armament assembled to dispute the passage.

A severe conflict ensued, but Caesar was victorious. The navy which the
Egyptians had so suddenly got together was as suddenly destroyed. Some
of the vessels were burned, others sunk, and others captured; and Caesar
returned in triumph to the port with his transports and stores. He was
welcomed with the acclamations of his soldiers, and, still more warmly,
by the joy and gratitude of Cleopatra, who had been waiting during his
absence in great anxiety and suspense to know the result of the
expedition, aware as she was that her hero was exposing himself in it to
the most imminent personal danger.

The arrival of these re-enforcements greatly improved Caesar's condition,
and the circumstance of their coming forced upon the mind of Ganymede a
sense of the absolute necessity that he should gain possession of the
harbor if he intended to keep Caesar in check. He accordingly determined
to take immediate measures for forming a naval force. He sent along the
coast, and ordered every ship and galley that could be found in all the
ports to be sent immediately to Alexandria. He employed as many men as
possible in and around the city in building more. He unroofed some of
the most magnificent edifices to procure timber as a material for making
benches and oars. When all was ready, he made a grand attack upon Caesar
in the port, and a terrible contest ensued for the possession of the
harbor, the mole, the island, and the citadels and fortresses commanding
the entrances from the sea. Caesar well knew this contest would be a
decisive one in respect to the final result of the war, and he
accordingly went forth himself to take an active and personal part in
the conflict. He felt doubtless, too, a strong emotion of pride and
pleasure in exhibiting his prowess in the sight of Cleopatra, who could
watch the progress of the battle from the palace windows, full of
excitement at the dangers which he incurred, and of admiration at the
feats of strength and valor which he performed. During this battle the
life of the great conqueror was several times in the most imminent
danger. He wore a habit or mantle of the imperial purple, which made him
a conspicuous mark for his enemies; and, of course, wherever he went, in
that place was the hottest of the fight. Once, in the midst of a scene
of most dreadful confusion and din, he leaped from an overloaded boat
into the water and swam for his life, holding his cloak between his
teeth and drawing it through the water after him, that it might not fall
into the hands of his enemies. He carried, at the same time, as he swam,
certain valuable papers which he wished to save, holding them above his
head with one hand, while he propelled himself through the water with
the other.

The result of this contest was another decisive victory for Caesar. Not
only were the ships which the Egyptians had collected defeated and
destroyed, but the mole, with the fortresses at each extremity of it,
and the island, with the light house and the town of Pharos, all fell
into Caesar's hands.

The Egyptians now began to be discouraged. The army and the people,
judging, as mankind always do, of the virtue of their military
commanders solely by the criterion of success, began to be tired of the
rule of Ganymede and Arsinoe. They sent secret messengers to Caesar
avowing their discontent, and saying that, if he would liberate
Ptolemy--who, it will be recollected, had been all this time held as a
sort of prisoner of state in Caesar's palaces--they thought that the
people generally would receive him as their sovereign, and that then an
arrangement might easily be made for an amicable adjustment of the whole
controversy. Caesar was strongly inclined to accede to this proposal.

He accordingly called Ptolemy into his presence and, taking him kindly
by the hand, informed him of the wishes of the people of Egypt, and gave
him permission to go. Ptolemy, however, begged not to be sent away. He
professed the strongest attachment to Caesar, and the utmost confidence
in him, and he very much preferred, he said, to remain under his
protection. Caesar replied that, if those were his sentiments, the
separation would not be a lasting one. "If we part as friends," he said,
"we shall soon meet again." By these and similar assurances he
endeavored to encourage the young prince, and then sent him away.
Ptolemy was received by the Egyptians with great joy, and was
immediately placed at the head of the government. Instead, however, of
endeavoring to promote a settlement of the quarrel with Caesar, he seemed
to enter into it now himself, personally, with the utmost ardor, and
began at once to make the most extensive preparations both by sea and
land for a vigorous prosecution of the war. What the result of these
operations would have been can now not be known, for the general aspect
of affairs was, soon after these transactions, totally changed by the
occurrence of a new and very important event which suddenly intervened,
and which turned the attention of all parties, both Egyptians and
Romans, to the eastern quarter of the kingdom. The tidings arrived that
a large army under the command of a general named Mithradates, whom
Caesar had dispatched into Asia for this purpose, had suddenly appeared
at Pelusium, had captured that city and were now ready to march to
Alexandria.

The Egyptian army immediately broke up its encampments in the
neighborhood of Alexandria, and marched to the eastward to meet these
new invaders, Caesar followed them with all the forces that he could
safely take away from the city. He left the city in the night, and
unobserved, and moved across the country with such celerity that he
joined Mithradates before the forces of Ptolemy had arrived. After
various marches and maneuvers, the armies met, and a great battle was
fought. The Egyptians were defeated. Ptolemy's camp was taken. As the
Roman army burst in upon one side of it, the guards and attendants of
Ptolemy fled upon the other, clambering over the ramparts in the utmost
terror and confusion. The foremost fell headlong into the ditch below,
which was thus soon filled to the brim with the dead and the dying;
while those who came behind pressed on over the bridge thus formed,
trampling remorselessly, as they fled, on the bodies of their comrades,
who lay writhing, struggling, and shrieking beneath their feet. Those
who escaped reached the river. They crowded together into a boat which
lay at the bank and pushed off from the shore. The boat was overloaded,
and it sank as soon as it left the land. The Romans drew the bodies
which floated to the shore upon the bank again, and they found among
them one, which, by the royal cuirass which was upon it, the customary
badge and armor of the Egyptian kings, they knew to be the body of
Ptolemy.

The victory which Caesar obtained in this battle and the death of Ptolemy
ended the war. Nothing now remained but for him to place himself at the
head of the combined forces and march back to Alexandria. The Egyptian
forces which had been left there made no resistance, and he entered the
city in triumph. He took Arsinoe prisoner. He decreed that Cleopatra
should reign as queen, and that she should marry her youngest brother,
the other Ptolemy,--a boy at this time about eleven years of age. A
marriage with one so young was, of course, a mere form. Cleopatra
remained, as before, the companion of Caesar.

Caesar had, in the mean time, incurred great censure at Rome, and
throughout the whole Roman world, for having thus turned aside from his
own proper duties as the Roman consul, and the commander-in-chief of the
armies of the empire, to embroil himself in the quarrels of a remote and
secluded kingdom with which the interests of the Roman commonwealth were
so little connected. His friends and the authorities at Rome were
continually urging him to return. They were especially indignant at his
protracted neglect of his own proper duties, from knowing that he was
held in Egypt by a guilty attachment to the queen,--thus not only
violating his obligations to the state, but likewise inflicting upon his
wife Calpurnia, and his family at Rome, an intolerable wrong. But Caesar
was so fascinated by Cleopatra's charms, and by the mysterious and
unaccountable influence which she exercised over him, that he paid no
heed to any of these remonstrances. Even after the war was ended he
remained some months in Egypt to enjoy his favorite's society. He would
spend whole nights in her company, in feasting and revelry. He made a
splendid royal progress with her through Egypt after the war was over,
attended by a numerous train of Roman guards. He formed a plan for
taking her to Rome, and marrying her there; and he took measures for
having the laws of the city altered so as to enable him to do so, though
he was already married.

All these things produced great discontent and disaffection among
Caesar's friends and throughout the Roman army. The Egyptians, too,
strongly censured the conduct of Cleopatra. A son was born to her about
this time, whom the Alexandrians named, from his father, Caesarion.
Cleopatra was regarded in the new relation of mother, which she now
sustained, not with interest and sympathy, but with feelings of reproach
and condemnation.

Cleopatra was all this time growing more and more accomplished, and more
and more beautiful; but her vivacity and spirit, which had been so
charming while it was simple and childlike, now began to appear more
forward and bold. It is the characteristic of pure and lawful love to
soften and subdue the heart, and infuse a gentle and quiet spirit into
all its action; while that which breaks over the barriers that God and
nature have marked out for it, tends to make woman masculine and bold,
to indurate all her sensibilities, and to destroy that gentleness and
timidity of demeanor which have so great an influence in heightening her
charms. Cleopatra was beginning to experience these effects. She was
indifferent to the opinions of her subjects, and was only anxious to
maintain as long as possible her guilty ascendency over Caesar.

Caesar, however, finally determined to set out on his return to the
capital. Leaving Cleopatra, accordingly, a sufficient force to secure
the continuance of her power, he embarked the remainder of his forces in
his transports and galleys, and sailed away. He took the unhappy Arsinoe
with him, intending to exhibit her as a trophy of his Egyptian victories
on his arrival at Rome.


CHAPTER VIII.

CLEOPATRA A QUEEN.

The Alexandrine war very short.--Its extent.--Revenues of Egypt.--The
city repaired.--The library rebuilt.--A new collection of manuscripts.--
Luxury and splendor.--Deterioration of Cleopatra's character.--The young
Ptolemy.--Cleopatra assassinates him.--Career of Caesar.--His rapid
course of conquest.--Cleopatra determines to go to Rome.--Feelings of
the Romans.--Caesar's four triumphs.--Nature of triumphal
processions.--Arsinoe.--Sympathy of the Roman people.--Caesar overacts
his part.--Feasts and festivals.--Riot and debauchery.--Public
combats.--The artificial lake.--Combat upon it.--Land combats.--The
people shocked.--Cleopatra's visit.--Caesar's plans for making himself
king.--Conspiracy against Caesar.--He is assassinated.--Arsinoe
released.--Calpurnia mourns her husband's death.--Calpurnia looks to
Mark Antony as her protector.

The war by which Caesar reinstated Cleopatra upon the throne was not one
of very long duration. Caesar arrived in Egypt in pursuit of Pompey about
the first of August; the war was ended and Cleopatra established in
secure possession by the end of January; so that the conflict, violent
as it was while it continued, was very brief, the peaceful and
commercial pursuits of the Alexandrians having been interrupted by it
only for a few months.

Nor did either the war itself, or the derangements consequent upon it,
extend very far into the interior of the country. The city of Alexandria
itself and the neighboring coasts were the chief scenes of the contest
until Mithradates arrived at Pelusium. He, it is true, marched across
the Delta, and the final battle was fought in the interior of the
country. It was, however, after all, but a very small portion of the
Egyptian territory that was directly affected by the war. The great mass
of the people, occupying the rich and fertile tracts which bordered the
various branches of the Nile, and the long and verdant valley which
extended so far into the heart of the continent, knew nothing of the
conflict but by vague and distant rumors. The pursuits of the
agricultural population went on, all the time, as steadily and
prosperously as ever; so that when the conflict was ended, and Cleopatra
entered upon the quiet and peaceful possession of her power, she found
that the resources of her empire were very little impaired.

She availed herself, accordingly, of the revenues which poured in very
abundantly upon her, to enter upon a career of the greatest luxury,
magnificence, and splendor. The injuries which had been done to the
palaces and other public edifices of Alexandria the fire, and by the
military operations of the siege, were repaired. The bridges which had
been down were rebuilt. The canals which had been obstructed were opened
again. The sea-water was shut off from the palace cisterns; the rubbish
of demolished houses was removed; the barricades were cleared from the
streets; and the injuries which the palaces had suffered either from the
violence of military engines or the rough occupation of the Roman
soldiery, were repaired. In a word, the city was speedily restored once
more, so far as was possible, to its former order and beauty. The five
hundred, thousand manuscripts of the Alexandrian library, which had been
burned, could not, indeed, be restored; but, in all other respects, the
city soon resumed in appearance all its former splendor. Even in respect
to the library, Cleopatra made an effort to retrieve the loss. She
repaired the ruined buildings, and afterward, in the course of her life,
she brought together, it was said, in a manner hereafter to be
described, one or two hundred thousand rolls of manuscripts, as the
commencement of a new collection. The new library, however, never
acquired the fame and distinction that had pertained to the old.

The former sovereigns of Egypt, Cleopatra's ancestors, had generally, as
has already been shown, devoted the immense revenues which they extorted
from the agriculturalists of the valley of the Nile to purposes of
ambition. Cleopatra seemed now disposed to expend them in luxury and
pleasure. They, the Ptolemies, had employed their resources in erecting
vast structures, or founding magnificent institutions at Alexandria, to
add to the glory of the city, and to widen and extend their own fame.
Cleopatra, on the other hand, as was, perhaps, naturally to be expected
of a young, beautiful, and impulsive woman suddenly raised to so
conspicuous a position, and to the possession of such unbounded wealth
and power, expended her royal revenues in plans of personal display, and
in scenes of festivity, gayety, and enjoyment. She adorned her palaces,
built magnificent barges for pleasure excursions on the Nile, and
expended enormous sums for dress, for equipages, and for sumptuous
entertainments. In fact, so lavish were her expenditures for these and
similar purposes during the early years of her reign, that she is
considered as having carried the extravagance of sensual luxury, and
personal display, and splendor, beyond the limits that had ever before
or have ever since been attained.

Whatever of simplicity of character, and of gentleness and kindness of
spirit she might have possessed in her earlier years, of course
gradually disappeared under the influences of such a course of life as
she now was leading. She was beautiful and fascinating still, but she
began to grow selfish, heartless, and designing. Her little brother,--he
was but eleven years of age, it will be recollected, when Caesar arranged
the marriage between them,--was an object of jealousy to her. He was
now, of course, too young to take any actual share in the exercise of
the royal power, or to interfere at all in his sister's plans or
pleasures. But then he was growing older. In a few years he would be
fifteen,--which was the period of life fixed upon by Caesar's
arrangements, and, in fact, by the laws and usages of the Egyptian
kingdom,--when he was to come into possession of power as king, and as
the husband of Cleopatra. Cleopatra was extremely unwilling that the
change in her relations to him and to the government, which this period
was to bring, should take place. Accordingly, just before the time
arrived, she caused him to be poisoned. His death released her, as she
had intended, from all restraints, and thereafter she continued to reign
alone. During the remainder of her life, so far as the enjoyment of
wealth and power, and of all other elements of external prosperity could
go, Cleopatra's career was one of uninterrupted success. She had no
conscientious scruples to interfere with the most full and unrestrained
indulgence of every propensity of her heart, and the means of indulgence
were before her in the most unlimited profusion. The only bar to her
happiness was the impossibility of satisfying the impulses and passions
of the human soul, when they once break over the bounds which the laws
both of God and of nature ordain for restraining them.

In the mean time, while Cleopatra was spending the early years of her
reign in all this luxury and splendor, Caesar was pursuing his career, as
the conqueror of the world, in the most successful manner. On the death
of Pompey, he would naturally have succeeded at once to the enjoyment of
the supreme power; but his delay in Egypt, and the extent to which it
was known that he was entangled with Cleopatra, encouraged and
strengthened his enemies in various parts of the world. In fact, a
revolt which broke out in Asia Minor, and which it was absolutely
necessary that he should proceed at once to quell, was the immediate
cause of his leaving Egypt at last. Other plans for making head against
Caesar's power were formed in Spain, in Africa, and in Italy. His
military skill and energy, however, were so great, and the ascendency
which he exercised over the minds of men by his personal presence was so
unbounded, and so astonishing, moreover, was the celerity with which he
moved from continent to continent, and from kingdom to kingdom, that in
a very short period from the time of his leaving Egypt, he had conducted
most brilliant and successful campaigns in all the three quarters of the
world then known, had put down effectually all opposition to his power,
and then had returned to Rome the acknowledged master of the world.
Cleopatra, who had, of course, watched his career during all this time
with great pride and pleasure, concluded, at last, to go to Rome and
make a visit to him there.

The people of Rome were, however, not prepared to receive her very
cordially. It was an age in which vice of every kind was regarded with
great indulgence, but the moral instincts of mankind were too strong to
be wholly blinded to the true character of so conspicuous an example of
wickedness as this. Arsinoe was at Rome, too, during this period of
Caesar's life. He had brought her there, it will be recollected, on his
return from Egypt, as a prisoner, and as a trophy of his victory. His
design was, in fact, to reserve her as a captive to grace his _triumph_.

A triumph, according to the usages of the ancient Romans, was a grand
celebration decreed by the Senate to great military commanders of the
highest rank, when they returned from distant campaigns in which they
had made great conquests or gained extraordinary victories. Caesar
concentrated all his triumphs into one. They were celebrated on his
return to Rome for the last time, after having completed the conquest of
the world. The processions of this triumph occupied four days. In fact,
there were four triumphs, one on each day for the four days. The wars
and conquests which these ovations were intended to celebrate were those
of Gaul, of Egypt, of Asia, and of Africa; and the processions on the
several days consisted of endless trains of prisoners, trophies, arms,
banners, pictures, images, convoys of wagons loaded with plunder,
captive princes and princesses, animals wild and tame, and every thing
else which the conqueror had been able to bring home with him from his
campaigns, to excite the curiosity or the admiration of the people of
the city and illustrate the magnitude of his exploits. Of course, the
Roman generals, when engaged in distant foreign wars, were ambitious of
bringing back as many distinguished captives and as much public plunder
as they were able to obtain, in order to add to the variety and splendor
of the triumphal procession by which their victories were to be honored
on their return. It was with this view that Caesar brought Arsinoe from
Egypt; and he had retained her as his captive at Rome until his
conquests were completed and the time for his triumph arrived. She, of
course, formed a part of the triumphal train on the _Egyptian_ day. She
walked immediately before the chariot in which Caesar rode. She was in
chains, like any other captive, though her chains in honor of her lofty
rank, were made of gold.

The effect, however, upon the Roman population of seeing the unhappy
princess, overwhelmed as she was with sorrow and chagrin, as she moved
slowly along in the train, among the other emblems and trophies of
violence and plunder, proved to be by no means favorable to Caesar. The
population were inclined to pity her, and to sympathize with her in her
sufferings. The sight of her distress recalled too, to their minds, the
dereliction from duty which Caesar had been guilty of in his yielding to
the enticements of Cleopatra, and remaining so long in Egypt to the
neglect of his proper duties as a Roman minister of state. In a word,
the tide of admiration for Caesar's military exploits which had been
setting so strongly in his favor, seemed inclined to turn, and the city
was filled with murmurs against him even in the midst of his triumphs.

In fact, the pride and vainglory which led Caesar to make his triumphs
more splendid and imposing than any former conqueror had ever enjoyed,
caused him to overact his part so as to produce effects the reverse of
his intentions. The case of Arsinoe was one example of this. Instead of
impressing the people with a sense of the greatness of his exploits in
Egypt, in deposing one queen and bringing her captive to Rome, in order
that he might place another upon the throne in her stead, it only
reproduced anew the censures and criminations which he had deserved by
his actions there, but which, had it not been for the pitiable spectacle
of Arsinoe in the train, might have been forgotten.

There were other examples of a similar character. There were the feasts,
for instance. From the plunder which Caesar had obtained in his various
campaigns, he expended the most enormous sums in making feasts and
spectacles for the populace at the time of his triumph. A large portion
of the populace was pleased, it is true, with the boundless indulgences
thus offered to them; but the better part of the Roman people were
indignant at the waste and extravagance which were every where
displayed. For many days the whole city of Rome presented to the view
nothing but one wide-spread scene of riot and debauchery. The people,
instead of being pleased with this abundance, said that Caesar must have
practiced the most extreme and lawless extortion to have obtained the
vast amount of money necessary to enable him to supply such unbounded
and reckless waste.

There was another way, too, by which Caesar turned public opinion
strongly against himself, by the very means which he adopted for
creating a sentiment in his favor. The Romans, among the other barbarous
amusements which were practiced in the city, were specially fond of
combats. These combats were of various kinds. They were fought sometimes
between ferocious beasts of the same or of different species, as dogs
against each other, or against bulls, lions, or tigers. Any animals, in
fact, were employed for this purpose, that could be teased or goaded
into anger and ferocity in a fight. Sometimes men were employed in these
combats,--captive soldiers, that had been taken in war, and brought to
Rome to fight in the amphitheaters there as gladiators. These men were
compelled to contend sometimes with wild beasts, and sometimes with one
another. Caesar, knowing how highly the Roman assemblies enjoyed such
scenes, determined to afford them the indulgence on a most magnificent
scale, supposing, of course, that the greater and the more dreadful the
fight, the higher would be the pleasure which the spectators would enjoy
in witnessing it. Accordingly, in making preparations for the
festivities attending his triumph, he caused a large artificial lake to
be formed at a convenient place in the vicinity of Rome, where it could
be surrounded by the populace of the city, and there he made
arrangements for a naval battle. A great number of galleys were
introduced into the lake. They were of the usual size employed in war.
These galleys were manned with numerous soldiers. Tyrian captives were
put upon one side, and Egyptian upon the other; and when all was ready,
the two squadrons were ordered to approach and fight a real battle for
the amusement of the enormous throngs of spectators that were assembled
around. As the nations from which the combatants in this conflict were
respectively taken were hostile to each other, and as the men fought, of
course, for their lives, the engagement was attended with the usual
horrors of a desperate naval encounter. Hundreds were slain. The dead
bodies of the combatants fell from the galleys into the lake and the
waters of it were dyed with their blood.

There were land combats, too, on the same grand scale. In one of them
five hundred foot soldiers, twenty elephants, and a troop of thirty
horse were engaged on each side. This combat, therefore, was an action
greater, in respect to the number of the combatants, than the famous
battle of Lexington, which marked the commencement of the American war;
and in respect to the slaughter which took place, it was very probably
ten times greater. The horror of these scenes proved to be too much even
for the populace, fierce and merciless as it was, which they were
intended to amuse. Caesar, in his eagerness to outdo all former
exhibitions and shows, went beyond the limits within which the seeing of
men butchered in bloody combats and dying in agony and despair would
serve for a pleasure and a pastime. The people were shocked; and
condemnations of Caesar's cruelty were added to the other suppressed
reproaches and criminations which every where arose.

Cleopatra, during her visit to Rome, lived openly with Caesar at his
residence, and this excited very general displeasure. In fact, while the
people pitied Arsinoe, Cleopatra, notwithstanding her beauty and her
thousand personal accomplishments and charms, was an object of general
displeasure, so far as public attention, was turned toward her at all.
The public mind was, however, much engrossed by the great political
movements made by Caesar and the ends toward which he seemed to be
aiming. Men accused him of designing to be made a king. Parties were
formed for and against him; and though men did not dare openly to utter
their sentiments, their passions became the more violent in proportion
to the external force by which they were suppressed. Mark Antony was at
Rome at this time. He warmly espoused Caesar's cause, and encouraged his
design of making himself king. He once, in fact, offered to place a
royal diadem upon Caesar's head at some public celebration; but the marks
of public disapprobation which the act elicited caused him to desist.

At length, however, the time arrived when Caesar determined to cause
himself to be proclaimed king. He took advantage of a certain remarkable
conjuncture of public affairs, which can not here be particularly
described, but which seemed to him specially to favor his designs, and
arrangements were made for having him invested with the regal power by
the Senate. The murmurs and the discontent of the people at the
indications that the time for the realization of their fears was drawing
nigh, became more and more audible, and at length a conspiracy was
formed to put an end to the danger by destroying the ambitious
aspirant's life. Two stern and determined men, Brutus and Cassius, were
the leaders of this conspiracy. They matured their plans, organized
their band of associates, provided themselves secretly with arms, and
when the Senate convened, on the day in which the decisive vote was to
have been passed, Caesar himself presiding, they came up boldly around
him in his presidential chair, and murdered him with their daggers.

Antony, from whom the plans of the conspirators had been kept profoundly
secret, stood by, looking on stupefied and confounded while the deed was
done, but utterly unable to render his friend any protection.

Cleopatra immediately fled from the city and returned to Egypt.

Arsinoe had gone away before. Caesar, either taking pity on her
misfortunes, or impelled, perhaps, by the force of public sentiment,
which seemed inclined to take part with her against him, set her at
liberty immediately after the ceremonies of his triumph were over. He
would not, however, allow her to return into Egypt, for fear, probably,
that she might in some way or other be the means of disturbing the
government of Cleopatra. She proceeded, accordingly, into Syria, no
longer as a captive, but still as an exile from her native land. We
shall hereafter learn what became of her there.

Calpurnia mourned the death of her husband with sincere and unaffected
grief. She bore the wrongs which she suffered as a wife with a very
patient and unrepining spirit, and loved her husband with the most
devoted attachment to the end. Nothing can be more affecting than the
proofs of her tender and anxious regard on the night immediately
preceding the assassination. There were certain slight and obscure
indications of danger which her watchful devotion to her husband led her
to observe, though they eluded the notice of all Caesar's other friends,
and they filled her with apprehension and anxiety; and when at length
the bloody body was brought home to her from the senate-house, she was
overwhelmed with grief and despair.

She had no children. She accordingly looked upon Mark Antony as her
nearest friend and protector, and in the confusion and terror which
prevailed the next day in the city, she hastily packed together the
money and other valuables contained in the house, and all her husband's
books and papers, and sent them to Antony for safe keeping.


CHAPTER IX.

THE BATTLE OF PHILIPPI.

Consternation at Rome.--Caesar's will.--Brutus and Cassius.--Parties
formed.--Octavius and Lepidus.--Character of Octavius.--Octavius
proceeds to Rome.--He claims his rights as heir.--Lepidus takes command
of the army.--The triumvirate.--Conference between Octavius, Lepidus,
and Antony.--Embassage to Cleopatra.--Her decision.--Cassius abandons
his designs.--Approach of the triumvirs.--The armies meet at Philippi.
--Sickness of Octavius.--Difference of opinion between Brutus and
Cassius.--Council of war.--Decision of the council.--Brutus greatly
elated.--Despondency of Cassius.--Preparations for battle.--Resolution
of Brutus to die.--Similar resolve of Cassius.--Omens.--Their influence
upon Cassius.--The swarms of bees.--Warnings received by Brutus.--The
spirit seen by Brutus.--His conversation with it.--Battle of
Philippi.--Defeat of Octavius.--Defeat of Cassius.--Brutus goes to his
aid--Death of Cassius.--Grief of Brutus.--Defeat of Brutus.--His
retreat.--Situation of Brutus in the glen.--The helmet of water.--Brutus
surrounded.--Proposal of Statilius.--Anxiety and suspense.--Resolution
of Brutus.--Brutus's farewell to his friends.--The last duty.--Death of
Brutus.--Situation of Antony.


When the tidings of the assassination of Caesar were first announced to
the people of Rome, all ranks and classes of men were struck with
amazement and consternation. No one knew what to say or do. A very large
and influential portion of the community had been Caesar's friends. It
was equally certain that there was a very powerful interest opposed to
him. No one could foresee which of these two parties would now carry the
day, and, of course, for a time, all was uncertainty and indecision.

Mark Antony came forward at once, and assumed the position of Caesar's
representative and the leader of the party on that side. A will was
found among Caesar's effects, and when the will was opened it appeared
that large sums of money were left to the Roman people, and other large
amounts to a nephew of the deceased, named Octavius, who will be more
particularly spoken of hereafter. Antony was named in the will is the
executor of it. This and other circumstances seemed to authorize him to
come forward as the head and the leader of the Caesar party. Brutus and
Cassius, who remained openly in the city after their desperate deed had
been performed, were the acknowledged leaders of the other party; while
the mass of the people were at first so astounded at the magnitude and
suddenness of the revolution which the open and public assassination of
a Roman emperor by a Roman Senate denoted, that they knew not what to
say or do. In fact, the killing of Julius Caesar, considering the exalted
position which he occupied, the rank and station of the men who
perpetrated the deed, and the very extraordinary publicity of the scene
in which the act was performed, was, doubtless, the most conspicuous and
most appalling case of assassination that has ever occurred. The whole
population of Rome seemed for some days to be amazed and stupefied by
the tidings. At length, however, parties began to be more distinctly
formed. The lines of demarkation between them were gradually drawn, and
men began to arrange themselves more and more unequivocally on the
opposite sides.

For a short time the supremacy of Antony over the Caesar party was
readily acquiesced in and allowed. At length, however, and before his
arrangements were finally matured, he found that he had two formidable
competitors upon his own side. These were Octavius and Lepidus.

Octavius, who was the nephew of Caesar, already alluded to, was a very
accomplished and elegant young man, now about nineteen years of age. He
was the son of Julius Caesar's niece.[1]

[Footnote 1: This Octavius on his subsequent elevation to
imperial power, received the name of Augustus Caesar, and it is
by this name that he is generally known in history. He was,
however, called Octavius at the commencement of his career,
and, to avoid confusion, we shall continue to designate him by
this name to the end of our narrative.]

He had always been a great favorite with his uncle. Every possible
attention had been paid to his education, and he had been advanced by
Caesar, already, to positions of high importance in public life. Caesar,
in fact, adopted him as his son, and made him his heir. At the time of
Caesar's death he was at Apollonia, a city of Illyricum, north of Greece.
The troops under his command there offered to march at once with him, if
he wished it, to Rome, and avenge his uncle's death. Octavius, after
some hesitation, concluded that it would be most prudent for him to
proceed thither first himself, alone, as a private person, and demand
his rights as his uncle's heir, according to the provisions of the will.
He accordingly did so. He found, on his arrival, that the will, the
property, the books and parchments, and the substantial power of the
government, were all in Antony's hands. Antony, instead of putting
Octavius into possession of his property and rights, found various
pretexts for evasion and delay. Octavius was too young yet, he said, to
assume such weighty responsibilities. He was himself also too much
pressed with the urgency of public affairs to attend to the business of
the will. With these and similar excuses as his justification, Antony
seemed inclined to pay no regard whatever to Octavius's claims.

Octavius, young as he was, possessed a character that was marked with
great intelligence, spirit, and resolution. He soon made many powerful
friends in the city of Rome and among the Roman Senate. It became a
serious question whether he or Antony would gain the greatest ascendency
in the party of Caesar's friends. The contest for this ascendency was, in
fact, protracted for two or three years, and led to a vast complication
of intrigues, and maneuvers, and civil wars, which can not, however, be
here particularly detailed.

The other competitor which Antony had to contend with was a
distinguished Roman general named Lepidus. Lepidus was an officer of the
army, in very high command at the time of Caesar's death. He was present
in the senate-chamber on the day of the assassination. He stole secretly
away when he saw that the deed was done, and repaired to the camp of the
army without the city and immediately assumed the command of the forces.
This gave him great power, and in the course of the contests which
subsequently ensued between Antony and Octavius, he took an active part,
and held in some measure the balance between them. At length the contest
was finally closed by a coalition of the three rivals. Finding that they
could not either of them gain a decided victory over the others, they
combined together, and formed the celebrated _triumvirate_, which
continued afterward for some time to wield the supreme command in the
Roman world. In forming this league of reconciliation, the three rivals
held their conference on an island situated in one of the branches of
the Po, in the north of Italy. They manifested extreme jealousy and
suspicion of each other in coming to this interview. Two bridges were
built leading to the island, one from each bank of the stream. The army
of Antony was drawn up upon one side of the river, and that of Octavius
upon the other. Lepidus went first to the island by one of the bridges.
After examining the ground carefully, to make himself sure that it
contained no ambuscade, he made a signal to the other generals, who then
came over, each advancing by his own bridge, and accompanied by three
hundred guards, who remained upon the bridge to secure a retreat for
their masters in case of treachery. The conference lasted three days, at
the expiration of which time the articles were all agreed upon and
signed.

This league being formed, the three confederates turned their united
force against the party of the conspirators. Of this party Brutus and
Cassius were still at the head.

The scene of the contests between Octavius, Antony, and Lepidus had been
chiefly Italy and the other central countries of Europe. Brutus and
Cassius, on the other hand, had gone across the Adriatic Sea into the
East immediately after Caesar's assassination. They were now in Asia
Minor, and were employed in concentrating their forces, forming
alliances with the various Eastern powers, raising troops, bringing over
to their side the Roman legions which were stationed in that quarter of
the world, seizing magazines, and exacting contributions from all who
could be induced to favor their cause. Among other embassages which they
sent, one went to Egypt to demand aid from Cleopatra. Cleopatra,
however, was resolved to join the other side in the contest. It was
natural that she should feel grateful to Caesar for his efforts and
sacrifices in her behalf, and that she should be inclined to favor the
cause of his friends. Accordingly, instead of sending troops to aid
Brutus and Cassius, as they had desired her to do, she immediately
fitted out an expedition to proceed to the coast of Asia, with a view of
rendering all the aid in her power to Antony's cause.

Cassius, on his part, finding that Cleopatra was determined on joining
his enemies, immediately resolved on proceeding at once to Egypt and
taking possession of the country. He also stationed a military force at
Taenarus, the southern promontory of Greece, to watch for and intercept
the fleet of Cleopatra as soon as it should appear on the European
shores. All these plans, however--both those which Cleopatra formed
against Cassius, and those which Cassius formed against her--failed of
accomplishment. Cleopatra's fleet encountered a terrible storm, which
dispersed and destroyed it. A small remnant was driven upon the coast of
Africa, but nothing could be saved which could be made available for the
purpose intended. As for Cassius's intended expedition to Egypt, it was
not carried into effect. The dangers which began now to threaten him
from the direction of Italy and Rome were so imminent, that, at Brutus's
urgent request, he gave up the Egyptian plan, and the two generals
concentrated their forces to meet the armies of the triumvirate which
were now rapidly advancing to attack them. They passed for this purpose
across the Hellespont from Sestos to Abydos, and entered Thrace.

After various marches and countermarches, and a long succession of those
maneuvers by which two powerful armies, approaching a contest, endeavor
each to gain some position of advantage against the other, the various
bodies of troops belonging, respectively, to the two powers, came into
the vicinity of each other near Philippi. Brutus and Cassius arrived
here first. There was a plain in the neighborhood of the city, with a
rising ground in a certain portion of it. Brutus took possession of this
elevation, and intrenched himself there. Cassius posted his forces about
three miles distant, near the sea. There was a line of intrenchments
between the two camps, which formed a chain of communication by which
the positions of the two commanders were connected. The armies were thus
very advantageously posted. They had the River Strymon and a marsh on
the left of the ground that they occupied, while the plain was before
them, and the sea behind. Here they awaited the arrival of their foes.

Antony, who was at this time at Amphipolis, a city not far distant from
Philippi, learning that Brutus and Cassius had taken their positions in
anticipation of an attack, advanced immediately and encamped upon the
plain. Octavius was detained by sickness at the city of Dyrrachium, not
very far distant. Antony waited for him. It was ten days before he came.
At length he arrived, though in coming he had to be borne upon a litter,
being still too sick to travel in any other way. Antony approached, and
established his camp opposite to that of Cassius, near the sea, while
Octavius took post opposite to Brutus. The four armies then paused,
contemplating the probable results of the engagement that was about to
ensue.

The forces on the two sides were nearly equal; but on the Republican
side, that is, on the part of Brutus and Cassius, there was great
inconvenience and suffering for want of a sufficient supply of
provisions and stores. There was some difference of opinion between
Brutus and Cassius in respect to what it was best for them to do. Brutus
was inclined to give the enemy battle. Cassius was reluctant to do so,
since, under the circumstances in which they were placed, he considered
it unwise to hazard, as they necessarily must do, the whole success of
their cause to the chances of a single battle. A council of war was
convened, and the various officers were asked to give their opinions. In
this conference, one of the officers having recommended to postpone the
conflict to the next winter, Brutus asked him what advantage he hoped to
attain by such delay. "If I gain nothing else," replied the officer, "I
shall live so much the longer." This answer touched Cassius's pride and
military sense of honor. Rather than concur in a counsel which was thus,
on the part of one of its advocates at least, dictated by what he
considered an inglorious love of life, he preferred to retract his
opinion. It was agreed by the council that the army should maintain its
ground and give the enemy battle. The officers then repaired to their
respective camps.

Brutus was greatly pleased at this decision. To fight the battle had
been his original desire, and as his counsels had prevailed, he was, of
course, gratified with the prospect for the morrow. He arranged a
sumptuous entertainment in his tent, and invited all the officers of his
division of the army to sup with him. The party spent the night in
convivial pleasures, and in mutual congratulations at the prospect of
the victory which, as they believed, awaited them on the morrow. Brutus
entertained his guests with brilliant conversation all the evening, and
inspired them with his own confident anticipations of success in the
conflict which was to ensue.

Cassius, on the other hand, in his camp by the sea, was silent and
desponding. He supped privately with a few intimate friends. On rising
from the table, he took one of his officers aside, and, pressing his
hand, said to him that he felt great misgivings in respect to the result
of the contest. "It is against my judgment," said he, "that we thus
hazard the liberty of Rome on the event of one battle, fought under such
circumstances as these. Whatever is the result, I wish you to bear me
witness hereafter that I was forced into this measure by circumstances
that I could not control. I suppose, however, that I ought to take
courage, notwithstanding the reasons that I have for these gloomy
forebodings. Let us, therefore, hope for the best; and come and sup with
me again to-morrow night. To-morrow is my birth-day."

The next morning, the scarlet mantle--the customary signal displayed in
Roman camps on the morning of a day of battle--was seen at the tops of
the tents of the two commanding generals, waving there in the air like a
banner. While the troops, in obedience to this signal, were preparing
themselves for the conflict, the two generals went to meet each other at
a point midway between their two encampments, for a final consultation
and agreement in respect to the arrangements of the day. When this
business was concluded, and they were about to separate, in order to
proceed each to his own sphere of duty, Cassius asked Brutus what he
intended to do in case the day should go against them. "We hope for the
best," said he, "and pray that the gods may grant us the victory in this
most momentous crisis. But we must remember that it is the greatest and
the most momentous of human affairs that are always the most uncertain,
and we can not foresee what is to-day to be the result of the battle. If
it goes against us, what do you intend to do? Do you intend to escape,
or to die?"

"When I was a young man," said Brutus, in reply, "and looked at this
subject only as a question of theory, I thought it wrong for a man ever
to take his own life. However great the evils that threatened him, and
however desperate his condition, I considered it his duty to live, and
to wait patiently for better times. But now, placed in the position in
which I am, I see the subject in a different light. If we do not gain
the battle this day, I shall consider all hope and possibility of saving
our country forever gone, and I shall not leave the field of battle
alive."

Cassius, in his despondency, had made the same resolution for himself
before, and he was rejoiced to hear Brutus utter these sentiments. He
grasped his colleague's hand with a countenance expressive of the
greatest animation and pleasure, and bade him farewell, saying, "We will
go out boldly to face the enemy. For we are certain either that we shall
conquer them, or that we shall have nothing to fear from their victory
over us."

Cassius's dejection, and the tendency of his mind to take a despairing
view of the prospects of the cause in which he was engaged, were owing,
in some measure, to certain unfavorable omens which he had observed.
These omens, though really frivolous and wholly unworthy of attention,
seem to have had great influence upon him, notwithstanding his general
intelligence, and the remarkable strength and energy of his character.
They were as follows:

In offering certain sacrifices, he was to wear, according to the usage
prescribed on such occasions, a garland of flowers, and it happened that
the officer who brought the garland, by mistake or accident, presented
it wrong side before. Again, in some procession which was formed, and in
which a certain image of gold, made in honor of him, was borne, the
bearer of it stumbled and fell, and the image was thrown upon the
ground. This was a very dark presage of impending calamity. Then a great
number of vultures and other birds of prey were seen for a number of
days before the battle, hovering over the Roman army; and several swarms
of bees were found within the precincts of the camp. So alarming was
this last indication, that the officers altered the line of the
intrenchments so as to shut out the ill-omened spot from the camp. These
and other such things had great influence upon the mind of Cassius, in
convincing him that some great disaster was impending over him.

Nor was Brutus himself without warnings of this character, though they
seem to have had less power to produce any serious impression upon his
mind than in the case of Cassius. The most extraordinary warning which
Brutus received, according to the story of his ancient historians, was
by a supernatural apparition which he saw, some time before, while he
was in Asia Minor. He was encamped near the city of Sardis at that time.
He was always accustomed to sleep very little, and would often, it was
said, when all his officers had retired, and the camp was still, sit
alone in his tent, sometimes reading, and sometimes revolving the
anxious cares which were always pressing upon his mind. One night he was
thus alone in his tent, with a small lamp burning before him, sitting
lost in thought, when he suddenly heard a movement as of some one
entering the tent. He looked up, and saw a strange, unearthly, and
monstrous shape, which appeared to have just entered the door and was
coming toward him. The spirit gazed upon him as it advanced, but it did
not speak.

Brutus, who was not much accustomed to fear, boldly demanded of the
apparition who and what it was, and what had brought it there. "I am
your evil spirit," said the apparition. "I shall meet you at Philippi."
"Then, it seems," said Brutus, "that, at any rate, I shall see you
again." The spirit made no reply to this, but immediately vanished.

Brutus arose, went to the door of his tent, summoned the sentinels, and
awakened the soldiers that were sleeping near. The sentinels had seen
nothing; and, after the most diligent search, no trace of the mysterious
visitor could be found.

The next morning Brutus related to Cassius the occurrence which he had
witnessed. Cassius, though very sensitive, it seems, to the influence of
omens affecting himself, was quite philosophical in his views in respect
to those of other men. He argued very rationally with Brutus to convince
him that the vision which he had seen was only a phantom of sleep,
taking its form and character from the ideas and images which the
situation in which Brutus was then placed, and the fatigue and anxiety
which he had endured, would naturally impress upon his mind.

But to return to the battle. Brutus fought against Octavius; while
Cassius, two or three miles distant, encountered Antony, that having
been, as will be recollected, the disposition of the respective armies
and their encampments upon the plain. Brutus was triumphantly successful
in his part of the field. His troops defeated the army of Octavius, and
got possession of his camp. The men forced their way into Octavius's
tent, and pierced the litter in which they supposed that the sick
general was lying through and through with their spears. But the object
of their desperate hostility was not there. He had been borne away by
his guards a few minutes before, and no one knew what had become of him.

The result of the battle was, however, unfortunately for those whose
adventures we are now more particularly following, very different in
Cassius's part of the field. When Brutus, after completing the conquest
of his own immediate foes, returned to his elevated camp, he looked
toward the camp of Cassius, and was surprised to find that the tents had
disappeared. Some of the officers around perceived weapons glancing and
glittering in the sun in the place where Cassius's tents ought to
appear. Brutus now suspected the truth, which was, that Cassius had been
defeated, and his camp had fallen into the hands of the enemy. He
immediately collected together as large a force as he could command, and
marched to the relief of his colleague. He found him, at last, posted
with a small body of guards and attendants upon the top of a small
elevation to which he had fled for safety. Cassius saw the troop of
horsemen which Brutus sent forward coming toward him, and supposed that
it was a detachment from Antony's army advancing to capture him. He,
however, sent a messenger forward to meet them, and ascertain whether
they were friends or foes. The messenger, whose name was Titinius, rode
down. The horsemen recognized Titinius, and, riding up eagerly around
him, they dismounted from their horses to congratulate him on his
safety, and to press him with inquiries in respect to the result of the
battle and the fate of his master.

Cassius, seeing all this, but not seeing it very distinctly, supposed
that the troop of horsemen were enemies, and that they had surrounded
Titinius, and had cut him down or made him prisoner. He considered it
certain, therefore, that all was now finally lost. Accordingly, in
execution of a plan which he had previously formed, he called a servant,
named Pindarus, whom he directed to follow him, and went into a tent
which was near. When Brutus and his horsemen came up, they entered the
tent. They found no living person within; but the dead body of Cassius
was there, the head being totally dissevered from it. Pindarus was never
afterward to be found.

Brutus was overwhelmed with grief at the death of his colleague; he was
also oppressed by it with a double burden of responsibility and care,
since now the whole conduct of affairs devolved upon him alone. He found
himself surrounded with difficulties which became more and more
embarrassing every day. At length he was compelled to fight a second
battle. The details of the contest itself we can not give, but the
result of it was, that, notwithstanding the most unparalleled and
desperate exertions made by Brutus to keep his men to the work, and to
maintain his ground, his troops were borne down and overwhelmed by the
irresistible onsets of his enemies, and his cause was irretrievably and
hopelessly ruined.

When Brutus found that all was lost, he allowed himself to be conducted
off the field by a small body of guards, who, in their retreat, broke
through the ranks of the enemy on a side where they saw that they should
meet with the least resistance. They were, however, pursued by a
squadron of horse, the horsemen being eager to make Brutus a prisoner.
In this emergency, one of Brutus's friends, named Lucilius, conceived
the design of pretending to be Brutus, and, as such, surrendering
himself a prisoner. This plan he carried into effect. When the troop
came up, he called out for quarter, said that he was Brutus, and begged
them to spare his life, and to take him to Antony. The men did so,
rejoiced at having, as they imagined, secured so invaluable a prize.

In the mean time, the real Brutus pressed on to make his escape. He
crossed a brook which came in his way, and entered into a little dell,
which promised to afford a hiding-place, since it was encumbered with
precipitous rocks and shaded with trees. A few friends and officers
accompanied Brutus in his flight. Night soon came on, and he lay down in
a little recess under a shelving rock, exhausted with fatigue and
suffering. Then, raising his eyes to heaven, he imprecated, in lines
quoted from a Greek poet, the just judgment of God upon the foes who
were at that hour triumphing in what he considered the ruin of his
country.

He then, in his anguish and despair, enumerated by name the several
friends and companions whom he had seen fall that day in battle,
mourning the loss of each with bitter grief. In the mean time, night was
coming on, and the party, concealed thus in the wild dell, were
destitute and unsheltered. Hungry and thirsty, and spent with fatigue as
they were, there seemed to be no prospect for them of either rest or
refreshment. Finally they sent one of their number to steal softly back
to the rivulet which they had crossed in their retreat, to bring them
some water. The soldier took his helmet to bring the water in for want
of any other vessel. While Brutus was drinking the water which they
brought, a noise was heard in the opposite direction. Two of the
officers were sent to ascertain the cause. They came back soon,
reporting that there was a party of the enemy in that quarter. They
asked where the water was which had been brought. Brutus told them that
it had all been drunk, but that he would send immediately for more. The
messenger went accordingly to the brook again, but he came back very
soon, wounded and bleeding, and reported that the enemy was close upon
them on that side too, and that he had narrowly escaped with his life.
The apprehensions of Brutus's party were greatly increased by these
tidings; it was evident that all hope of being able to remain long
concealed where they were must fast disappear.

One of the officers, named Statilius, then proposed to make the attempt
to find his way out of the snare in which they had become involved. He
would go, he said, as cautiously as possible, avoiding all parties of
the enemy, and being favored by the darkness of the night, he hoped to
find some way of retreat. If he succeeded, he would display a torch on a
distant elevation which he designated, so that the party in the glen, on
seeing the light, might be assured of his safety. He would then return
and guide them all through the danger, by the way which he should have
discovered.

This plan was approved, and Statilius accordingly departed. In due time
the light was seen burning at the place which had been pointed out, and
indicating that Statilius had accomplished his undertaking. Brutus and
his party were greatly cheered by the new hope which this result
awakened. They began to watch and listen for their messenger's return.
They watched and waited long, but he did not come. On the way back he
was intercepted and slain.

When at length all hope that he would return was finally abandoned, some
of the party, in the course of the despairing consultations which the
unhappy fugitives held with one another, said that they _must not_
remain any longer where they were, but must make their escape from that
spot at all hazards. "Yes," said Brutus, "we must indeed make our escape
from our present situation, but we must do it with our hands, and not
with our feet." He meant by this that the only means now left to them to
evade their enemies was self-destruction. When his friends understood
that this was his meaning, and that he was resolved to put this design
into execution in his own case, they were overwhelmed with sorrow.
Brutus took them, one by one, by the hand and bade them farewell. He
thanked them for their fidelity in adhering to his cause to the last,
and said that it was a source of great comfort and satisfaction to him
that all his friends had proved so faithful and true. "I do not complain
of my hard fate," he added, "so far as I myself am concerned. I mourn
only for my unhappy country. As to myself, I think that my condition
even now is better than that of my enemies; for though I die, posterity
will do me justice, and I shall enjoy forever the honor which virtue and
integrity deserve; while they, though they live, live only to reap the
bitter fruits of injustice and of tyranny.

"After I am gone," he continued, addressing his friends, as before,
"think no longer of me, but take care of yourselves. Antony, I am sure,
will be satisfied with Cassius's death and mine. He will not be disposed
to pursue you vindictively any longer. Make peace with him on the best
terms that you can."

Brutus then asked first one and then another of his friends to aid him
in the last duty, as he seems to have considered it, of destroying his
life; but one after another declared that they could not do any thing to
assist him in carrying into effect so dreadful a determination. Finally,
he took with him an old and long-tried friend named Strato, and went
away a little, apart from the rest. Here he solicited once more the
favor which had been refused him before,--begging that Strato would hold
out his sword. Strato still refused. Brutus then called one of his
slaves. Upon this Strato declared that he would do any thing rather than
that Brutus should die by the hand of a slave. He took the sword, and.
with his right hand held it extended in the air. With the left hand he
covered his eyes, that he might not witness the horrible spectacle.
Brutus, rushed upon the point of the weapon with such fatal force that
he fell and immediately expired.

Thus ended the great and famous battle of Philippi, celebrated in
history as marking the termination of the great conflict between the
friends and the enemies of Caesar, which agitated the world so deeply
after the conqueror's death. This battle established the ascendency of
Antony, and made him for a time the most conspicuous man, as Cleopatra
was, the most conspicuous woman, in the world.


CHAPTER X.

CLEOPATRA AND ANTONY.

Cleopatra espouses Antony's cause.--Her motives.--Antony's early
life.--His character.--Personal habits of Antony.--His dress and
manners.--Vicious indulgences of Antony.--Public condemnation.--Vices of
the great.--Candidates for office.--Antony's excesses.--His luxury and
extravagance.--Antony's energy.--His powers of endurance.--Antony's
vicissitudes.--He inveighs away the troops of Lepidus.--Antony's
marriage.--Fulvia's character.--Fulvia's influence over Antony.--The
sudden return.--Change in Antony's character.--His generosity.--Funeral
ceremonies of Brutus.--Antony's movements.--Antony's summons to
Cleopatra.--The messenger Dellius.--Cleopatra resolves to go to
Antony.--Her preparations.--Cleopatra enters the Cydnus.--Her splendid
barge.--A scene of enchantment.--Antony's invitation refused.
--Cleopatra's reception of Antony.--Antony outdone.--Murder of
Arsinoe.--Cleopatra's manner of life at Tarsus.--Cleopatra's
munificence.--Story of the pearls.--Position of Fulvia.--Her anxiety and
distress.--Antony proposes to go to Rome.--His plans frustrated by
Cleopatra.--Antony's infatuation.--Feasting and revelry.--Philotas.--The
story of the eight boats.--Antony's son.--The garrulous guest.--The
puzzle.--The gold and silver plate returned.--Debasing pleasures.
--Antony and Cleopatra in disguise.--Fishing excursions.--Stratagems.
--Fulvia's plans for compelling Antony to return.--Departure of
Antony.--Chagrin of Cleopatra.

How far Cleopatra was influenced, in her determination to espouse the
cause of Antony rather than that of Brutus and Cassius, in the civil war
described in the last chapter, by gratitude to Caesar, and how far, on
the other hand, by personal interest in Antony, the reader must judge.
Cleopatra had seen Antony, it will be recollected, some years before,
during his visit to Egypt, when she was a young girl. She was doubtless
well acquainted with his character. It was a character peculiarly
fitted, in some respects, to captivate the imagination of a woman so
ardent, and impulsive, and bold as Cleopatra was fast becoming.

Antony had, in fact, made himself an object of universal interest
throughout the world, by his wild and eccentric manners and reckless
conduct, and by the very extraordinary vicissitudes which had marked his
career. In moral character he was as utterly abandoned and depraved as
it was possible to be. In early life, as has already been stated, he
plunged into such a course of dissipation and extravagance that he
became utterly and hopelessly ruined; or, rather, he would have been so,
had he not, by the influence of that magic power of fascination which
such characters often possess, succeeded in gaining a great ascendency
over a young man of immense fortune, named Curio, who for a time upheld
him by becoming surety for his debts. This resource, however, soon
failed, and Antony was compelled to abandon Rome, and to live for some
years as a fugitive and exile, in dissolute wretchedness and want.
During all the subsequent vicissitudes through which he passed in the
course of his career, the same habits of lavish expenditure continued,
whenever he had funds at his command. This trait of character took the
form sometimes of a noble generosity. In his campaigns, the plunder
which he acquired he usually divided among his soldiers, reserving
nothing for himself. This made his men enthusiastically devoted to him,
and led them to consider his prodigality as a virtue, even when they did
not themselves derive any direct advantage from it. A thousand stories
were always in circulation in camp of acts on his part illustrating his
reckless disregard of the value of money, some ludicrous, and all
eccentric and strange.

In his personal habits, too, he was as different as possible from other
men. He prided himself on being descended from Hercules, and he affected
a style of dress and a general air and manner in accordance with the
savage character of this his pretended ancestor. His features were
sharp, his nose was arched and prominent, and he wore his hair and beard
very long--as long, in fact, as he could make them grow. These
peculiarities imparted to his countenance a very wild and ferocious
expression. He adopted a style of dress, too, which, judged of with
reference to the prevailing fashions of the time, gave to his whole
appearance a rough, savage, and reckless air. His manner and demeanor
corresponded with his dress and appearance. He lived in habits of the
most unreserved familiarity with his soldiers. He associated freely with
them, ate and drank with them in the open air, and joined in their noisy
mirth and rude and boisterous hilarity. His commanding powers of mind,
and the desperate recklessness of his courage, enabled him to do all
this without danger. These qualities inspired in the minds of the
soldiers a feeling of profound respect for their commander; and this
good opinion he was enabled to retain, notwithstanding such habits of
familiarity with his inferiors as would have been fatal to the influence
of an ordinary man.

In the most prosperous portion of Antony's career--for example, during
the period immediately preceding the death of Caesar--he addicted himself
to vicious indulgences of the most open, public, and shameless
character. He had around him a sort of court, formed of jesters,
tumblers, mountebanks, play-actors, and other similar characters of the
lowest and most disreputable class. Many of these companions were
singing and dancing girls, very beautiful, and very highly accomplished
in the arts of their respective professions, but all totally corrupt and
depraved. Public sentiment, even in that age and nation, strongly
condemned this conduct. The people were pagans, it is true, but it is a
mistake to suppose that the formation of a moral sentiment in the
community against such vices as these is a work which Christianity alone
can perform. There is a law of nature, in the form of an instinct
universal in the race, imperiously enjoining that the connection of the
sexes shall consist of the union of one man with one woman, and that
woman his wife, and very sternly prohibiting every other. So that there
has probably never been a community in the world so corrupt, that a man
could practice in it such vices as those of Antony, without not only
violating his own sense of right and wrong, but also bringing upon
himself the general condemnation of those around him.

Still, the world is prone to be very tolerant in respect to the vices of
the great. Such exalted personages as Antony seem to be judged by a
different standard from common men. Even in the countries where those
who occupy high stations of trust or of power are actually selected, for
the purpose of being placed there, by the voices of their fellow-men,
all inquiry into the personal character of a candidate is often
suppressed, such inquiry being condemned as wholly irrelevant and
improper, and they who succeed in attaining to power enjoy immunities in
their elevation which are denied to common men.

But, notwithstanding the influence of Antony's rank and power in
shielding him from public censure, he carried his excesses to such an
extreme that his conduct was very loudly and very generally condemned.
He would spend all the night in carousals, and then, the next day, would
appear in public, staggering in the streets. Sometimes he would enter
the tribunals for the transaction of business when he was so intoxicated
that it would be necessary for friends to come to his assistance to
conduct him away. In some of his journeys in the neighborhood of Rome,
he would take a troop of companions with him of the worst possible
character, and travel with them openly and without shame. There was a
certain actress, named Cytheride, whom he made his companion on one such
occasion. She was borne upon a litter in his train, and he carried about
with him a vast collection of gold and silver plate, and of splendid
table furniture, together with an endless supply of luxurious articles
of food and of wine, to provide for the entertainments and banquets
which he was to celebrate with her on the journey. He would sometimes
stop by the road side, pitch his tents, establish his kitchens, set his
cooks at work to prepare a feast, spread his tables, and make a
sumptuous banquet of the most costly, complete, and ceremonious
character--all to make men wonder at the abundance and perfection of the
means of luxury which he could carry with him wherever he might go. In
fact, he always seemed to feel a special pleasure in doing strange and
extraordinary things in order to excite surprise. Once on a journey he
had lions harnessed to his carts to draw his baggage, in order to create
a sensation.

Notwithstanding the heedlessness with which Antony abandoned himself to
these luxurious pleasures when at Rome, no man could endure exposure and
hardship better when in camp or on the field. In fact, he rushed with as
much headlong precipitation into difficulty and danger when abroad, as
into expense and dissipation when at home. During his contests with
Octavius and Lepidus, after Caesar's death, he once had occasion to pass
the Alps, which, with his customary recklessness, he attempted to
traverse without any proper supplies of stores or means of
transportation. He was reduced, on the passage, together with the troops
under his command, to the most extreme destitution and distress. They
had to feed on roots and herbs, and finally on the bark of trees; and
they barely preserved themselves, by these means, from actual
starvation. Antony seemed, however, to care nothing for all this, but
pressed on through the difficulty and danger, manifesting the same
daring and determined unconcern to the end. In the same campaign he
found himself at one time reduced to extreme destitution in respect to
men. His troops had been gradually wasted away until his situation had
become very desperate. He conceived, under these circumstances, the most
extraordinary idea of going over alone to the camp of Lepidus and
enticing away his rival's troops from under the very eyes of their
commander. This bold design was successfully executed. Antony advanced
alone, clothed in wretched garments, and with his matted hair and beard
hanging about his breast and shoulders, up to Lepidus's lines. The men,
who knew him well, received him with acclamations; and pitying the sad
condition to which they saw that he was reduced, began to listen to what
he had to say. Lepidus, who could not attack him, since he and Antony
were not at that time in open hostility to each other, but were only
rival commanders in the same army, ordered the trumpeters to sound in
order to make a noise which should prevent the words of Antony from
being heard. This interrupted the negotiation; but the men immediately
disguised two of their number in female apparel, and sent them to Antony
to make arrangements with him for putting themselves under his command,
and offering, at the same time, to murder Lepidus, if he would but speak
the word. Antony charged them to do Lepidus no injury. He, however, went
over and took possession of the camp, and assumed the command of the
army. He treated Lepidus himself, personally, with extreme politeness,
and retained him as a subordinate under his command.

Not far from the time of Caesar's death, Antony was married. The name of
the lady was Fulvia. She was a widow at the time of her marriage with
Antony, and was a woman of very marked and decided character. She had
led a wild and irregular life previous to that time, but she conceived a
very strong attachment to her new husband and devoted herself to him
from the time of her marriage with the most constant fidelity. She soon
acquired a very great ascendency over him, and was the means of
effecting a very considerable reform in his conduct and character. She
was an ambitious and aspiring woman, and made many very efficient and
successful efforts to promote the elevation and aggrandizement of her
husband. She appeared, also, to take a great pride and pleasure in
exercising over him, herself, a great personal control. She succeeded in
these attempts in a manner that surprised every body. It seemed
astonishing to all mankind that such a tiger as he had been could be
subdued by any human power. Nor was it by gentleness and mildness that
Fulvia gained such power over her husband. She was of a very stern and
masculine character, and she seems to have mastered Antony by surpassing
him in the use of his own weapons. In fact, instead of attempting to
soothe and mollify him, she reduced him, it seems, to the necessity of
resorting to various contrivances to soften and propitiate her. Once,
for example, on his return from a campaign in which he had been exposed
to great dangers, he disguised himself and came home at night in the
garb of a courier bearing dispatches. He caused himself to be ushered,
muffled and disguised as he was, into Fulvia's apartments, where he
handed her some pretended letters, which, he said, were from her
husband; and while Fulvia was opening them in great excitement and
trepidation, he threw off his disguise, and revealed himself to her by
clasping her in his arms and kissing her in the midst of her amazement.

Antony's marriage with Fulvia, besides being the means of reforming his
morals in some degree, softened and civilized him in respect to his
manners. His dress and appearance now assumed a different character. In
fact, his political elevation after Caesar's death soon became very
exalted, and the various democratic arts by which he had sought to raise
himself to it, being now no longer necessary, were, as usual in such
cases, gradually discarded. He lived in great style and splendor when at
Rome, and when absent from home, on his military campaigns, he began to
exhibit the same pomp and parade in his equipage and in his arrangements
as were usual in the camps of other Roman generals.

After the battle of Philippi, described in the last chapter,
Antony--who, with all his faults, was sometimes a very generous foe--as
soon as the tidings of Brutus's death were brought to him, repaired
immediately to the spot, and appeared to be quite shocked and concerned
at the sight of the body. He took off his own military cloak or
mantle--which was a very magnificent and costly garment, being enriched
with many expensive ornaments--and spread it over the corpse. He then
gave directions to one of the officers of his household to make
arrangements for funeral ceremonies of a very imposing character, as a
testimony of his respect for the memory of the deceased. In these
ceremonies it was the duty of the officer to have burned the military
cloak which Antony had appropriated to the purpose of a pall, with the
body. He did not, however, do so. The cloak being very valuable, he
reserved it; and he withheld, also, a considerable part of the money
which had been given him for the expenses of the funeral. He supposed
that Antony would probably not inquire very closely into the details of
the arrangements made for the funeral of his most inveterate enemy.
Antony, however, did inquire into them, and when he learned what the
officer had done, he ordered him to be killed.

The various political changes which occurred, and the movements which
took place among the several armies after the battle of Philippi, can
not be here detailed. It is sufficient to say that Antony proceeded to
the eastward through Asia Minor, and in the course of the following year
came into Cilicia. From this place he sent a messenger to Egypt to
Cleopatra, summoning her to appear before him. There were charges, he
said, against her of having aided Cassius and Brutus in the late war
instead of rendering assistance to him. Whether there really were any
such charges, or whether they were only fabricated by Antony as pretexts
for seeing Cleopatra, the fame of whose beauty was very widely extended,
does not certainly appear. However this may be, he sent to summon the
queen to come to him. The name of the messenger whom Antony dispatched
on this errand was Dellius. Fulvia, Antony's wife, was not with him at
this time. She had been left behind at Rome.

Dellius proceeded to Egypt and appeared at Cleopatra's court. The queen
was at this time about twenty-eight, but more beautiful, as was said,
than ever before. Dellius was very much struck with her beauty and with
a certain fascination in her voice and conversation, of which her
ancient biographers often speak as one of the most irresistible of her
charms. He told her that she need have no fear of Antony. It was of no
consequence, he said, what charges there might be against her. She would
find that, in a very few days after she had entered into Antony's
presence, she would be in great favor. She might rely, in fact, he said,
on gaining, very speedily, an unbounded ascendency over the general. He
advised her, therefore, to proceed to Cilicia without fear; and to
present herself before Antony in as much pomp and magnificence as she
could command. He would answer, he said, for the result.

Cleopatra determined to follow this advice. In fact, her ardent and
impulsive imagination was fired with the idea of making, a second time,
the conquest of the greatest general and highest potentate in the world.
She began immediately to make provision for the voyage. She employed all
the resources of her kingdom in procuring for herself the most
magnificent means of display, such as expensive and splendid dresses,
rich services of plate, ornaments of precious stones and of gold, and
presents in great variety and of the most costly description for Antony.
She appointed, also, a numerous retinue of attendants to accompany her,
and, in a word, made all the arrangements complete for an expedition of
the most imposing and magnificent character. While these preparations
were going forward, she received new and frequent communications from
Antony, urging her to hasten her departure; but she paid very little
attention to them. It was evident that she felt quite independent, and
was intending to take her own time.

At length, however, all was ready, and Cleopatra set sail. She crossed
the Mediterranean Sea, and entered the mouth of the River Cydnus. Antony
was at Tarsus, a city upon the Cydnus, a small distance above its mouth.
When Cleopatra's fleet had entered the river, she embarked on board a
most magnificent barge which she had constructed for the occasion, and
had brought with her across the sea. This barge was the most magnificent
and highly-ornamented vessel that had ever been built. It was adorned
with carvings and decorations of the finest workmanship, and elaborately
gilded. The sails were of purple, and the oars were inlaid and tipped
with silver. Upon the deck of this barge Queen Cleopatra appeared,
under a canopy of cloth of gold. She was dressed very magnificently in
the costume in which Venus, the goddess of Beauty, was then generally
represented. She was surrounded by a company of beautiful boys, who
attended upon her in the form of Cupids, and fanned her with their
wings, and by a group of young girls representing the Nymphs and the
Graces. There was a band of musicians stationed upon the deck. This
music guided the oarsmen, as they kept time to it in their rowing; and,
soft as the melody was, the strains were heard far and wide over the
water and along the shores, as the beautiful vessel advanced on its way.
The performers were provided with flutes, lyres, viols, and all the
other instruments customarily used in those times to produce music of a
gentle and voluptuous kind.

[Illustration: MEETING OF CLEOPATRA AND ANTONY.]

In fact, the whole spectacle seemed like a vision of enchantment.
Tidings of the approach of the barge spread rapidly around, and the
people of the country came down in crowds to the shores of the river to
gaze upon it in admiration as it glided slowly along. At the time of its
arrival at Tarsus, Antony was engaged in giving a public audience at
some tribunal in his palace, but everybody ran to see Cleopatra and the
barge, and the great triumvir was left consequently alone, or, at least,
with only a few official attendants near him. Cleopatra, on arriving at
the city, landed, and began to pitch her tents on the shores. Antony
sent a messenger to bid her welcome, and to invite her to come and sup
with him. She declined the invitation, saying that it was more proper
that he should come and sup with her. She would accordingly expect him
to come, she said, and her tents would be ready at the proper hour.
Antony complied with her proposal, and came to her entertainment. He was
received with a magnificence and splendor which amazed him. The tents
and pavilions where the entertainment was made were illuminated with an
immense number of lamps. These lamps were arranged in a very ingenious
and beautiful manner, so as to produce an illumination of the most
surprising brilliancy and beauty. The immense number and variety, too,
of the meats and wines, and of the vessels of gold and silver, with
which the tables were loaded, and the magnificence and splendor of the
dresses worn by Cleopatra and her attendants, combined to render the
whole scene one of bewildering enchantment.

The next day, Antony invited Cleopatra to come and return his visit;
but, though he made every possible effort to provide a banquet as
sumptuous and as sumptuously served as hers, he failed entirely in this
attempt, and acknowledged himself completely outdone. Antony was,
moreover, at these interviews, perfectly fascinated with Cleopatra's
charms. Her beauty, her wit, her thousand accomplishments, and, above
all, the tact, and adroitness, and self-possession which she displayed
in assuming at once so boldly, and carrying out so adroitly, the idea of
her social superiority over him, that he yielded his heart almost
immediately to her undisputed sway.

The first use which Cleopatra made of her power was to ask Antony, for
her sake, to order her sister Arsinoe to be slain. Arsinoe had gone, it
will be recollected, to Rome, to grace Caesar's triumph there, and had
afterward retired to Asia, where she was now living an exile. Cleopatra,
either from a sentiment of past revenge, or else from some apprehensions
of future danger, now desired that her sister should die. Antony readily
acceded to her request. He sent an officer in search of the unhappy
princess. The officer slew her where he found her, within the precincts
of a temple to which she had fled, supposing it a sanctuary which no
degree of hostility, however extreme, would have dared to violate.

Cleopatra remained at Tarsus for some time, revolving in an incessant
round of gayety and pleasure, and living in habits of unrestrained
intimacy with Antony. She was accustomed to spend whole days and nights
with him in feasting and revelry. The immense magnificence of these
entertainments, especially on Cleopatra's part, were the wonder of the
world. She seems to have taken special pleasure in exciting Antony's
surprise by the display of her wealth and the boundless extravagance in
which she indulged. At one of her banquets, Antony was expressing his
astonishment at the vast number of gold cups, enriched with jewels, that
were displayed on all sides. "Oh," said she, "they are nothing; if you
like them, you shall have them all." So saying, she ordered her servants
to carry them to Antony's house. The next day she invited Antony again,
with a large number of the chief officers of his army and court. The
table was spread with a new service of gold and silver vessels, more
extensive and splendid than that of the preceding day; and at the close
of the supper, when the company was about to depart, Cleopatra
distributed all these treasures among the guests that had been present
at the entertainment. At another of these feasts, she carried her
ostentation and display to the astonishing extreme of taking off from
one of her ear-rings a pearl of immense value and dissolving it in a cup
of vinegar,[1] which she afterward made into a drink, such as was
customarily used in those days, and then drank it. She was proceeding to
do the same with the other pearl, when some of the company arrested the
proceeding, and took the remaining pearl away.

[Footnote 1: Pearls, being of the nature of _shell_ in their
composition and structure, are soluble in certain acids.]

In the mean time, while Antony was thus wasting his time in luxury and
pleasure with Cleopatra, his public duties were neglected, and every
thing was getting into confusion. Fulvia remained in Italy. Her position
and her character gave her a commanding political influence, and she
exerted herself in a very energetic manner to sustain, in that quarter
of the world, the interests of her husband's cause. She was surrounded
with difficulties and dangers, the details of which can not, however, be
here particularly described. She wrote continually to Antony, urgently
entreating him to come to Rome, and displaying in her letters all those
marks of agitation and distress which a wife would naturally feel under
the circumstances in which she was placed. The thought that her husband
had been so completely drawn away from her by the guilty arts of such a
woman, and led by her to abandon his wife and his family, and leave in
neglect and confusion concerns of such momentous magnitude as those
which demanded his attention at home, produced an excitement in her mind
bordering upon frensy. Antony was at length so far influenced by the
urgency of the case that he determined to return. He broke up his
quarters at Tarsus and moved south toward Tyre, which was a great naval
port and station in those days. Cleopatra went with him. They were to
separate at Tyre. She was to embark there for Egypt, and he for Rome.

At least that was Antony's plan, but it was not Cleopatra's. She had
determined that Antony should go with her to Alexandria. As might have
been expected, when the time came for the decision, the woman gained the
day. Her flatteries, her arts, her caresses, her tears, prevailed. After
a brief struggle between the sentiment of love on the one hand and those
of ambition and of duty combined on the other, Antony gave up the
contest. Abandoning every thing else, he surrendered himself wholly to
Cleopatra's control, and went with her to Alexandria. He spent the
winter there, giving himself up with her to every species of sensual
indulgence that the most remorseless license could tolerate, and the
most unbounded wealth procure.

There seemed, in fact, to be no bounds to the extravagance and
infatuation which Antony displayed during the winter in Alexandria.
Cleopatra devoted herself to him incessantly, day and night, filling up
every moment of time with some new form of pleasure, in order that he
might have no time to think of his absent wife, or to listen to the
reproaches of his conscience. Antony, on his part, surrendered himself a
willing victim to these wiles, and entered with all his heart into the
thousand plans of gayety and merry-making which Cleopatra devised. They
had each a separate establishment in the city, which was maintained at
an enormous cost, and they made a arrangement by which each was the
guest of the other on alternate days. These visits were spent in games,
sports, spectacles, feasting, drinking, and in every species of riot,
irregularity, and excess.

A curious instance is afforded of the accidental manner in which
intelligence in respect to the scenes and incidents of private life in
those ancient days is sometimes obtained, in a circumstance which
occurred at this time at Antony's court. It seems that there was a young
medical student at Alexandria that winter, named Philotas, who happened,
in some way or other, to have formed an acquaintance with one of
Antony's domestics, a cook. Under the guidance of this cook, Philotas
went one day into the palace to see what was to be seen. The cook took
his friend into the kitchens, where, to Philotas's great surprise, he
saw, among an infinite number and variety of other preparations, eight
wild boars roasting before the fires, some being more and some less
advanced in the process. Philotas asked what great company was to dine
there that day. The cook smiled at this question, and replied that there
was to be no company at all, other than Antony's ordinary party. "But,"
said the cook, in explanation, "we are obliged always to prepare several
suppers, and to have them ready in succession at different hours, for no
one can tell at what time they will order the entertainment to be
served. Sometimes, when the supper has been actually carried in, Antony
and Cleopatra will get engaged in some new turn of their diversions, and
conclude not to sit down just then to the table, and so we have to take
the supper away, and presently bring in another."

Antony had a son with him at Alexandria at this time, the child of his
wife Fulvia. The name of the son, as well as that of the father, was
Antony. He was old enough to feel some sense of shame at his father's
dereliction from duty, and to manifest some respectful regard for the
rights and the honor of his mother. Instead of this, however, he
imitated his father's example, and, in his own way, was as reckless and
extravagant as he. The same Philotas who is above referred to was, after
a time, appointed to some office or other in the young Antony's
household, so that he was accustomed to sit at his table and share in
his convivial enjoyments. He relates that once, while they were feasting
together, there was a guest present, a physician, who was a very vain
and conceited man, and so talkative that no one else had any opportunity
to speak. All the pleasure of conversation was spoiled by his excessive
garrulity. Philotas, however, at length puzzled him so completely with a
question of logic,--of a kind similar to those often discussed with
great interest in ancient days,--as to silence him for a time; and young
Antony was so much delighted with this feat, that he gave Philotas all
the gold and silver plate that there was upon the table, and sent all
the articles home to him, after the entertainment was over, telling him.
to put his mark and stamp upon them, and lock them up.

The question with which Philotas puzzled the self-conceited physician
was this. It must be premised, however, that in those days it was
considered that cold water in an intermittent fever was extremely
dangerous, except in some peculiar cases, and in those the effect was
good. Philotas then argued as follows: "In cases of a certain kind it is
best to give water to a patient in an ague. All cases of ague are cases
of a certain kind. Therefore it is best in all cases to give the patient
water." Philotas having propounded his argument in this way, challenged
the physician to point out the fallacy of it; and while the physician
sat perplexed and puzzled in his attempts to unravel the intricacy of
it, the company enjoyed a temporary respite from his excessive
loquacity.

Philotas adds, in his account of this affair, that he sent the gold and
silver plate back to young Antony again, being afraid to keep them.
Antony said that perhaps it was as well that this should be done, since
many of the vessels were of great value on account of their rare and
antique workmanship, and his father might possibly miss them and wish to
know what had become of them.

As there were no limits, on the one hand, to the loftiness and grandeur
of the pleasures to which Antony and Cleopatra addicted themselves, so
there were none to the low and debasing tendencies which characterized
them on the other. Sometimes, at midnight, after having been spending
many hours in mirth and revelry in the palace, Antony would disguise
himself in the dress of a slave, and sally forth into the streets,
excited with wine, in search of adventures. In many cases, Cleopatra
herself, similarly disguised, would go out with him. On these excursions
Antony would take pleasure in involving himself in all sorts of
difficulties and dangers--in street riots, drunken brawls, and desperate
quarrels with the populace--all for Cleopatra's amusement and his own.
Stories of these adventures would circulate afterward among the people,
some of whom would admire the free and jovial character of their
eccentric visitor, and others would despise him as a prince degrading
himself to the level of a brute.

Some of the amusements and pleasures which Antony and Cleopatra pursued
were innocent in themselves, though wholly unworthy to be made the
serious business of life by personages on whom such exalted duties
rightfully devolved. They made various excursions upon the Nile, and
arranged parties of pleasure to go out on the water in the harbor, and
to various rural retreats in the environs of the city. Once they went
out on a fishing-party, in boats, in the port. Antony was unsuccessful;
and feeling chagrined that Cleopatra should witness his ill-luck, he
made a secret arrangement with some of the fishermen to dive down, where
they could do so unobserved, and fasten fishes to his hook under the
water. By this plan he caught very large and fine fish very fast.
Cleopatra, however, was too wary to be easily deceived by such a
stratagem as this. She observed the maneuver, but pretended not to
observe it; she expressed, on the other hand, the greatest surprise and
delight at Antony's good luck, and the extraordinary skill which it
indicated.

The next day she wished to go a fishing again, and a party was
accordingly made as on the day before. She had, however, secretly
instructed another fisherman to procure a dried and salted fish from the
market, and, watching his opportunity, to get down into the water under
the boats and attach it to the hook, before Antony's divers could get
there. This plan succeeded, and Antony, in the midst of a large and gay
party that were looking on, pulled out an excellent fish, cured and
dried, such as was known to every one as an imported article, bought in
the market. It was a fish of a kind that was brought originally from
Asia Minor. The boats and the water all around them resounded with the
shouts of merriment and laughter which this incident occasioned.

In the mean time, while Antony was thus spending his time in low and
ignoble pursuits and in guilty pleasures at Alexandria, his wife Fulvia,
after exhausting all other means of inducing her husband to return to
her, became desperate, and took measures for fomenting an open war,
which she thought would compel him to return. The extraordinary energy,
influence, and talent which Fulvia possessed, enabled her to do this in
an effectual manner. She organized an army, formed a camp, placed
herself at the head of the troops, and sent such tidings to Antony of
the dangers which threatened his cause as greatly alarmed him. At the
same time news came of great disasters in Asia Minor, and of alarming
insurrections among the provinces which had been committed to his charge
there. Antony saw that he must arouse himself from the spell which had
enchanted him and break away from Cleopatra, or that he would be wholly
and irretrievably ruined. He made, accordingly, a desperate effort to
get free. He bade the queen farewell, embarked hastily in a fleet of
galleys, and sailed away to Tyre, leaving Cleopatra in her palace,
vexed, disappointed, and chagrined.


CHAPTER XI.

THE BATTLE OF ACTIUM.

Perplexity of Antony.--His meeting with Fulvia.--Meeting of Antony and
Fulvia.--Reconciliation of Antony and Octavius.--Octavia.--Her marriage
to Antony.--Octavia's influence over her husband and her
brother.--Octavia pleads for Antony.--Difficulties settled.--Antony
tired of his wife.--He goes to Egypt.--Antony again with
Cleopatra.--Effect on his character.--The march to Sidon.--Suffering of
the troops.--Arrival of Cleopatra.--She brings supplies for the
army.--Octavia intercedes for Antony.--She brings him re-enforcements.
--Cleopatra's alarm.--Her arts.--Cleopatra's secret agents.--Their
representations to Antony.--Cleopatra's success.--Antony's message
to Octavia.--Devotion of Octavia.--Indignation against Antony.--Measures
of Antony.--Accusations against him.--Antony's preparations.--Assistance
of Cleopatra.--Canidius bribed.--His advice in regard to Cleopatra.--The
fleet at Samos.--Antony's infatuation.--Riot and revelry.--Antony and
Cleopatra at Athens.--Ostentation of Cleopatra.--Honors bestowed on
her.--Baseness of Antony.--Approach of Octavius.--Antony's will.--Charges
against him.--Antony's neglect of his duties.--Meeting of the fleets.
--Opinions of the council.--Cleopatra's wishes.--Battle of Actium.--Flight
of Cleopatra.--Antony follows Cleopatra.--He gains her galley.--Antony
pursued.--A severe conflict.--The avenger of a father.--Antony's
anguish--Antony and Cleopatra shun each other.--Arrival at
Tsenarus.--Antony and Cleopatra fly together to Egypt.

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 provisions. 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
very 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, rousing 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.
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 Aegean Sea, landed in
Greece, and advanced to Athens, while the fleet, proceeding westward
from Samos, passed around Taenarus, 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 Caesar 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.[1]

[Footnote 1: These letters, in accordance with the scale of
expense and extravagance on which Cleopatra determined that
every thing relating to herself and Antony should be done,
were engraved on tablets made of onyx, or crystal, or other
hard and precious stones.]

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 Aegean 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 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 Taenarus, 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.


CHAPTER XII.

THE END OF CLEOPATRA.

Infatuation of Antony.--His early character--Powerful influence of
Cleopatra over Antony,--Indignation at Antony's conduct.--Plans of
Cleopatra.--Antony becomes a misanthrope.--His hut on the island of
Pharos--Antony's reconciliation with Cleopatra.--Scenes of
revelry.--Cleopatra makes a collection of poisons.--Her experiments with
them.--Antony's suspicions.--Cleopatra's stratagem.--The bite of the
asp.--Cleopatra's tomb.--Progress of Octavius.--Proposal of
Antony.--Octavius at Pelusium.--Cleopatra's treasures.--Fears of
Octavius.--He arrives at Alexandria.--The sally.--The unfaithful
captain.--Disaffection of Antony's men.--Desertion of the fleet.--False
rumor of Cleopatra's death.--Antony's despair.--Eros.--Antony's attempt
to kill himself.--Antony taken to Cleopatra.--She refuses to open the
door.--Antony taken in at the window.--Cleopatra's grief.--Death of
Antony.--Cleopatra made prisoner.--Treatment of Cleopatra.--Octavius
takes possession of Alexandria.--Antony's funeral.--Cleopatra's wretched
condition.--Cleopatra's wounds and bruises.--She resolves to starve
herself.--Threats of Octavius.--Their effect.--Octavius visits
Cleopatra.--Her wretched condition.--The false inventory.--Cleopatra in
a rage.--Octavius deceived.--Cleopatra's determination.--Cleopatra
visits Antony's tomb.--Her composure on her return.--Cleopatra's
supper.--The basket of figs.--Cleopatra's letter to Octavius.--She is
found dead.--Death of Charmion.--Amazement of the by-standers.--Various
conjectures as to the cause of Cleopatra's death.--Opinion of
Octavius.--His triumph.

The case of Mark Antony affords one of the most extraordinary examples
of the power of unlawful love to lead its deluded and infatuated victim
into the very jaws of open and recognized destruction that history
records. Cases similar in character occur by thousands in common life;
but Antony's, though perhaps not more striking in itself than a great
multitude of others have been, is the most conspicuous instance that has
ever been held up to the observation of mankind.

In early life, Antony was remarkable, as we have already seen, for a
certain savage ruggedness of character, and for a stern and indomitable
recklessness of will, so great that it seemed impossible that any thing
human should be able to tame him. He was under the control, too, of an
ambition so lofty and aspiring that it appeared to know no bounds; and
yet we find him taken possession of, in the very midst of his career,
and in the height of his prosperity and success, by a woman, and so
subdued by her arts and fascinations as to yield himself wholly to her
guidance, and allow himself to be led about by her entirely at her will.
She displaces whatever there might have been that was noble and generous
in his heart, and substitutes therefor her own principles of malice and
cruelty. She extinguishes all the fires of his ambition, originally so
magnificent in its aims that the world seemed hardly large enough to
afford it scope, and instead of this lofty passion, fills his soul with
a love of the lowest, vilest, and most ignoble pleasures. She leads him
to betray every public trust, to alienate from himself all the
affections of his countrymen, to repel most cruelly the kindness and
devotedness of a beautiful and faithful wife, and, finally to expel this
wife and all of his own legitimate family from his house; and now, at
last, she conducts him away in a most cowardly and ignoble flight from
the field of his duty as a soldier--he knowing, all the time, that she
is hurrying him to disgrace and destruction, and yet utterly without
power to break from the control of his invisible chains.

The indignation which Antony's base abandonment of his fleet and army at
the battle of Actium excited, over all that part of the empire which had
been under his command, was extreme. There was not the slightest
possible excuse for such a flight. His army, in which his greatest
strength lay, remained unharmed, and even his fleet was not defeated.
The ships continued the combat until night, notwithstanding the betrayal
of their cause by their commander. They were at length, however,
subdued. The army, also, being discouraged, and losing all motive for
resistance, yielded too. In a very short time the whole country went
over to Octavius's side.

In the mean time, Cleopatra and Antony, on their first return to Egypt,
were completely beside themselves with terror. Cleopatra formed a plan
for having all the treasures that she could save, and a certain number
of galleys sufficient for the transportation of these treasures and a
small company of friends, carried across the isthmus of Suez and
launched upon the Red Sea, in order that she might escape in that
direction, and find some remote hiding-place and safe retreat on the
shores of Arabia or India, beyond the reach of Octavius's dreaded power.
She actually commenced this undertaking, and sent one or two of her
galleys across the isthmus; but the Arabs seized them as soon as they
reached their place of destination, and killed or captured the men that
had them in charge, so that this desperate scheme was soon abandoned.
She and Antony then finally concluded to establish themselves at
Alexandria, and made preparation, as well as they could, for defending
themselves against Octavius there.

Antony, when the first effects of his panic subsided, began to grow mad
with vexation and resentment against all mankind. He determined that he
would have nothing to do with Cleopatra or with any of her friends, but
went off in a fit of sullen rage, and built a hermitage in a lonely
place, on the island of Pharos, where he lived for a time, cursing his
folly and his wretched fate, and uttering the bitterest invectives
against all who had been concerned in it. Here tidings came continually
in, informing him of the defection of one after another of his armies,
of the fall of his provinces in Greece and Asia Minor, and of the
irresistible progress which Octavius was now making toward universal
dominion. The tidings of these disasters coming incessantly upon him
kept him in a continual fever of resentment and rage.

At last he became tired of his misanthropic solitude, a sort of
reconciliation ensued between himself and Cleopatra, and he went back
again to the city. Here he joined himself once more to Cleopatra, and,
collecting together what remained of their joint resources, they plunged
again into a life of dissipation and vice, with the vain attempt to
drown in mirth and wine the bitter regrets and the anxious forebodings
which filled their souls. They joined with them a company of revelers as
abandoned as themselves, and strove very hard to disguise and conceal
their cares in their forced and unnatural gayety. They could not,
however, accomplish this purpose. Octavius was gradually advancing in
his progress, and they knew very well that the time of his dreadful
reckoning with them must soon come; nor was there any place on earth in
which they could look with any hope of finding a refuge in it from his
vindictive hostility.

Cleopatra, warned by dreadful presentiments of what would probably at
last be her fate, amused herself in studying the nature of poisons--not
theoretically, but practically--making experiments with them on wretched
prisoners and captives whom she compelled to take them in order that she
and Antony might see the effects which they produced. She made a
collection of all the poisons which she could procure, and administered
portions of them all, that she might see which were sudden and which
were slow in their effects, and also learn which produced the greatest
distress and suffering, and which, on the other hand, only benumbed and
stupefied the faculties, and thus extinguished life with the least
infliction of pain. These experiments were not confined to such
vegetable and mineral poisons as could be mingled with the food or
administered in a potion. Cleopatra took an equal interest in the
effects of the bite of venomous serpents and reptiles. She procured
specimens of all these animals, and tried them upon her prisoners,
causing the men to be stung and bitten by them, and then watching the
effects. These investigations were made, not directly with a view to any
practical use, which she was to make of the knowledge thus acquired, but
rather as an agreeable occupation, to divert her mind, and to amuse
Antony and her guests. The variety in the forms and expressions which
the agony of her poisoned victims assumed,--their writhings, their
cries, their convulsions, and the distortions of their features when
struggling with death, furnished exactly the kind and degree of
excitement which she needed to occupy and amuse her mind.

[Illustration: CLEOPATRA TESTING THE POISONS UPON THE SLAVES]

Antony was not entirely at ease, however, during the progress
of these terrible experiments. His foolish and childish fondness
for Cleopatra was mingled with jealousy, suspicion, and distrust;
and he was so afraid that Cleopatra might secretly poison him,
that he would never take any food or wine without requiring that she
should taste it before him. At length, one day, Cleopatra caused the
petals of some flowers to be poisoned, and then had the flowers woven
into the chaplet which Antony was to wear at supper. In the midst of the
feast, she pulled off the leaves of the flowers from her own chaplet and
put them playfully into her wine, and then proposed that Antony should
do the same with his chaplet, and that they should then drink the wine,
tinctured, as it would be, with the color and the perfume of the
flowers. Antony entered very readily into this proposal, and when he was
about to drink the wine, she arrested his hand, and told him that it was
poisoned. "You see now," said she, "how vain it is for you to watch
against me. If it were possible for me to live without you, how easy it
would be for me to devise ways and means to kill you." Then, to prove
that her words were true, she ordered one of the servants to drink
Antony's wine. He did so, and died before their sight in dreadful agony.

The experiments which Cleopatra thus made on the nature and effects of
poison were not, however, wholly without practical result. Cleopatra
learned from them, it is said, that the bite of the asp was the easiest
and least painful mode of death. The effect of the venom of that animal
appeared to her to be the lulling of the sensorium into a lethargy or
stupor, which soon ended in death, without the intervention of pain.
This knowledge she seems to have laid up in her mind for future use.

The thoughts of Cleopatra appear, in fact, to have been much disposed,
at this time, to flow in gloomy channels, for she occupied herself a
great deal in building for herself a sepulchral monument in a certain
sacred portion of the city. This monument had, in fact, been commenced
many years ago, in accordance with a custom prevailing among Egyptian
sovereigns, of expending a portion of their revenues during their
life-time in building and decorating their own tombs. Cleopatra now
turned her mind with new interest to her own mausoleum. She finished it,
provided it with the strongest possible bolts and bars, and, in a word,
seemed to be preparing it in all respects for occupation.

In the mean time, Octavius, having made himself master of all the
countries which had formerly been under Antony's sway, now advanced,
meeting none to oppose him, from Asia Minor into Syria, and from Syria
toward Egypt. Antony and Cleopatra made one attempt, while he was thus
advancing toward Alexandria, to avert the storm which was impending over
them, by sending an embassage to ask for some terms of peace. Antony
proposed, in this embassage, to give up every thing to his conqueror on
condition that he might be permitted to retire unmolested with Cleopatra
to Athens, and allowed to spend the remainder of their days there in
peace; and that the kingdom of Egypt might descend to their children.
Octavius replied that he could not make any terms with Antony, though he
was willing to consent to any thing that was reasonable in behalf of
Cleopatra. The messenger who came back from Octavius with this reply
spent some time in private interviews with Cleopatra. This aroused
Antony's jealousy and anger. He accordingly ordered the unfortunate
messenger to be scourged and then sent back to Octavius, all lacerated
with wounds, with orders to say to Octavius that if it displeased him to
have one of his servants thus punished, he might revenge himself by
scourging a servant of Antony's who was then, as it happened, in
Octavius's power.

The news at length suddenly arrived at Alexandria that Octavius had
appeared before Pelusium, and that the city had fallen into his hands.
The next thing Antony and Cleopatra well knew would be, that they should
see him at the gates of Alexandria. Neither Antony nor Cleopatra had any
means of resisting his progress, and there was no place to which they
could fly. Nothing was to be done but to await, in consternation and
terror, the sure and inevitable doom which was now so near.

Cleopatra gathered together all her treasures and sent them to her tomb.
These treasures consisted of great and valuable stores of gold, silver,
precious stones, garments of the highest cost, and weapons, and vessels
of exquisite workmanship and great value, the hereditary possessions of
the Egyptian kings. She also sent to the mausoleum an immense quantity
of flax, tow, torches, and other combustibles. These she stored in the
lower apartments of the monument, with the desperate determination of
burning herself and her treasures together rather than to fall into the
hands of the Romans.

In the mean time, the army of Octavius steadily continued its march
across the desert from Pelusium to Alexandria. On the way, Octavius
learned, through the agents in communication with him from within the
city what were the arrangements which Cleopatra had made for the
destruction of her treasure whenever the danger should become imminent
of its falling into his hands. He was extremely unwilling that this
treasure should be lost. Besides its intrinsic value, it was an object
of immense importance to him to get possession of it for the purpose of
carrying it to Rome as a trophy of his triumph. He accordingly sent
secret messengers to Cleopatra, endeavoring to separate her from Antony,
and to infuse her mind with the profession that he felt only friendship
for her, and did not mean to do her any injury, being in pursuit of
Antony only. These negotiations were continued from day to day while
Octavius was advancing. At last the Roman army reached Alexandria, and
invested it on every side.

As soon as Octavius was established in his camp under the walls of the
city, Antony planned a sally, and he executed it, in fact, with
considerable energy and success. He issued suddenly from the gates, at
the head of as strong a force as he could command, and attacked a body
of Octavius's horsemen. He succeeded in driving these horsemen away from
their position, but he was soon driven back in his turn, and compelled
to retreat to the city, fighting as he fled, to beat back his pursuers.
He was extremely elated at the success of this skirmish. He came to
Cleopatra with a countenance full of animation and pleasure, took her in
his arms and kissed her, all accoutered for battle as he was, and
boasted greatly of the exploit which he had performed. He praised, too,
in the highest terms, the valor of one of the officers who had gone out
with him to the fight, and whom he had now brought to the palace to
present to Cleopatra. Cleopatra rewarded the faithful captain's prowess
with a magnificent suit of armor made of gold. Notwithstanding this
reward, however, the man deserted Antony that very night, and went over
to the enemy. Almost all of Antony's adherents were in the same state of
mind. They would have gladly gone over to the camp of Octavius, if they
could have found an opportunity to do so.

In fact, when the final battle was fought, the fate of it was decided by
a grand defection in the fleet, which went over in a body to the side of
Octavius. Antony was planning the operations of the day, and
reconnoitering the movements of the enemy from an eminence which he
occupied at the head of a body of foot soldiers--all the land forces
that now remained to him--and looking off, from the eminence on which he
stood, toward the harbor, he observed a movement among the galleys. They
were going out to meet the ships of Octavius, which were lying at anchor
not very far from them. Antony supposed that his vessels were going to
attack those of the enemy, and he looked to see what exploits they would
perform. They advanced toward Octavius's ships, and when they met them,
Antony observed, to his utter amazement, that, instead of the furious
combat that he had expected to see, the ships only exchanged friendly
salutations, by the use of the customary naval signals; and then his
ships, passing quietly round, took their positions in the lines of the
other fleet. The two fleets had thus become merged and mingled into one.

Antony immediately decided that this was Cleopatra's treason. She had
made peace with Octavius, he thought, and surrendered the fleet to him
as one of the conditions of it. Antony ran through the city, crying out
that he was betrayed, and in a frensy of rage sought the palace.
Cleopatra fled to her tomb. She took in with her one or two attendants,
and bolted and barred the doors, securing the fastenings with the heavy
catches and springs that she had previously made ready. She then
directed her women to call out through the door that she had killed
herself within the tomb.

The tidings of her death were borne to Antony. It changed his anger to
grief and despair. His mind, in fact, was now wholly lost to all balance
and control, and it passed from the dominion of one stormy passion to
another with the most capricious facility. He cried out with the most
bitter expressions of sorrow, mourning, he said, not so much Cleopatra's
death, for he should soon follow and join her, as the fact that she had
proved herself so superior to him in courage at last, in having thus
anticipated him in the work of self-destruction.

He was at this time in one of the chambers of the palace, whither he had
fled in despair, and was standing by a fire, for the morning was cold.
He had a favorite servant named Eros, whom he greatly trusted, and whom
he had made to take an oath long before, that whenever it should become
necessary for him to die, Eros should kill him. This Eros he now called
to him, and telling him that the time was come, ordered him to take the
sword and strike the blow.

Eros took the sword while Antony stood up before him. Eros turned his
head aside as if wishing that his eyes should not see the deed which his
hands were about to perform. Instead, however, of piercing his master
with it, he plunged it into his own breast, fell down at Antony's feet,
and died.

Antony gazed a moment at the shocking spectacle, and then said, "I thank
thee for this, noble Eros. Thou hast set me an example. I must do for
myself what thou couldst not do for me." So saying, he took the sword
from his servant's hands, plunged it into his body, and staggering to a
little bed that was near, fell over upon it in a swoon. He had received
a mortal wound.

The pressure, however, which was produced by the position in which he
lay upon the bed, stanched the wound a little, and stopped the flow of
blood. Antony came presently to himself again, and then began to beg and
implore those around him to take the sword and put him out of his
misery. But no one would do it. He lay for a time suffering great pain,
and moaning incessantly, until, at length, an officer came into the
apartment and told him that the story which he had heard of Cleopatra's
death was not true; that she was still alive, shut up in her monument,
and that she desired to see him there. This intelligence was the source
of new excitement and agitation. Antony implored the by-standers to
carry him to Cleopatra, that he might see her once more before he died.
They shrank from the attempt; but, after some hesitation and delay, they
concluded to undertake to remove him. So, taking him in their arms, they
bore him along, faint and dying, and marking their track with his blood,
toward the tomb.

Cleopatra would not open the gates to let the party in. The city was all
in uproar and confusion through the terror of the assault which Octavius
was making upon it, and she did not know what treachery might be
intended. She therefore went up to a window above, and letting down
ropes and chains, she directed those below to fasten the dying body to
them, that she and the two women with her might draw it up. This was
done. Those who witnessed it said that it was a most piteous sight to
behold,--Cleopatra and her women above exhausting their strength in
drawing the wounded and bleeding sufferer up the wall, while he, when he
approached the window, feebly raised his arms to them, that they might
lift him in. The women had hardly strength sufficient to draw the body
up. At one time it seemed that the attempt would have to be abandoned;
but Cleopatra reached down from the window as far as she could to get
hold of Antony's arms, and thus, by dint of great effort, they succeeded
at last in taking him in. They bore him to a couch which was in the
upper room from which the window opened, and laid him down, while
Cleopatra wrung her hands and tore her hair, and uttered the most
piercing lamentations and cries. She leaned over the dying Antony,
crying out incessantly with the most piteous exclamations of grief. She
bathed his face, which was covered with blood, and vainly endeavored to
stanch his wound.

Antony urged her to be calm, and not to mourn his fate. He asked for
some wine. They brought it to him and he drank it. He then entreated
Cleopatra to save her life, if she possibly could do so, and to make
some terms or other with Octavius, so as to continue to live. Very soon
after this he expired.

In the mean time, Octavius had heard of the mortal wound which Antony
had given himself; for one of the by-standers had seized the sword the
moment that the deed was done, and had hastened to carry it to Octavius,
and to announce to him the death of his enemy. Octavius immediately
desired to get Cleopatra into his power. He sent a messenger, therefore,
to the tomb, who attempted to open a parley there with her. Cleopatra
talked with the messenger through the keyholes or crevices, but could
not be induced to open the door. The messenger reported these facts to
Octavius. Octavius then sent another man with the messenger, and while
one was engaging the attention of Cleopatra and her women at the door
below, the other obtained ladders, and succeeded in gaining admission
into the window above. Cleopatra was warned of the success of this
stratagem by the shrieks of her women, who saw the officer coming down
the stairs. She looked around, and observing at a glance that she was
betrayed, and that the officer was coming to seize her, she drew a
little dagger from her robe, and was about to plunge it into her breast,
when the officer grasped her arm just in time to prevent the blow. He
took the dagger from her, and then examined her clothes to see that
there were no other secret weapons concealed there.

The capture of the queen being reported to Octavius, he appointed an
officer to take her into close custody. This officer was charged to
treat her with all possible courtesy, but to keep a close and constant
watch over her, and particularly to guard against allowing her any
possible means or opportunity for self-destruction.

In the mean time, Octavius took formal possession of the city, marching
in at the head of his troops with the most imposing pomp and parade. A
chair of state, magnificently decorated, was set up for him on a high
elevation in a public square; and here he sat, with circles of guards
around him, while the people of the city, assembled before him in the
dress of suppliants, and kneeling upon the pavement, begged his
forgiveness, and implore him to spare the city. These petitions the
great conqueror graciously condescended to grant.

Many of the princes and generals who had served under Antony came next
to beg the body of their commander, that they might give it an honorable
burial. These requests, however, Octavius would not accede to, saying
that he could not take the body away from Cleopatra. He, however, gave
Cleopatra leave to make such arrangements for the obsequies as she
thought fit, and allowed her to appropriate such sums of money from her
treasures for this purpose as she desired. Cleopatra accordingly made
the necessary arrangements, and superintended the execution of them;
not, however, with any degree of calmness and composure, but in a state,
on the contrary, of extreme agitation and distress. In fact, she had
been living now so long under the unlimited and unrestrained dominion of
caprice and passion, that reason was pretty effectually dethroned, and
all self-control was gone. She was now nearly forty years of age, and,
though traces of her inexpressible beauty remained, her bloom was faded,
and her countenance was wan with the effects of weeping, anxiety, and
despair. She was, in a word, both in body and mind, only the wreck and
ruin of what she once had been.

When the burial ceremonies were performed, and she found that all was
over--that Antony was forever gone, and she herself hopelessly and
irremediably ruined--she gave herself up to a perfect frensy of grief.
She beat her breast, and scratched and tore her flesh so dreadfully, in
the vain efforts which she made to kill herself, in the paroxysms of her
despair, that she was soon covered with contusions and wounds, which,
becoming inflamed and swelled, made her a shocking spectacle to see, and
threw her into a fever. She then conceived the idea of pretending to be
more sick than she was, and so refusing food and starving herself to
death. She attempted to execute this design. She rejected every medical
remedy that was offered her, and would not eat, and lived thus some days
without food. Octavius, to whom every thing relating to his captive was
minutely reported by her attendants, suspected her design. He was very
unwilling that she should die, having set his heart on exhibiting her to
the Roman people, on his return to the capital, in his triumphal
procession. He accordingly sent her orders, requiring that she should
submit to the treatment prescribed by the physician, and take her food,
enforcing these his commands with a certain threat which he imagined
might have some influence over her. And what threat does the reader
imagine could possibly be devised to reach a mind so sunk, so desperate,
so wretched as hers? Every thing seemed already lost but life, and life
was only an insupportable burden. What interests, then, had she still
remaining upon which a threat could take hold?

Octavius, in looking for some avenue by which he could reach her,
reflected that she was a mother. Caesarion, the son of Julius Caesar, and
Alexander, Cleopatra, and Ptolemy, Antony's children, were still alive.
Octavius imagined that in the secret recesses of her wrecked and ruined
soul there might be some lingering principle of maternal affection
remaining which he could goad into life and action. He accordingly sent
word to her that, if she did not yield to the physician and take her
food, he would kill every one of her children.

The threat produced its effect. The crazed and frantic patient became
calm. She received her food. She submitted to the physician. Under his
treatment her wounds began to heal, the fever was allayed, and at length
she appeared to be gradually recovering.

When Octavius learned that Cleopatra had become composed, and seemed to
be in some sense convalescent, he resolved to pay her a visit. As he
entered the room where she was confined, which seems to have been still
the upper chamber of her tomb, he found her lying on a low and miserable
bed, in a most wretched condition, and exhibiting such a spectacle of
disease and wretchedness that he was shocked at beholding her. She
appeared, in fact, almost wholly bereft of reason. When Octavius came
in, she suddenly leaped out of the bed, half naked as she was, and
covered with bruises and wounds, and crawled miserably along to her
conqueror's feet in the attitude of a suppliant. Her hair was torn from
her head, her limbs were swollen and disfigured, and great bandages
appeared here and there, indicating that there were still worse injuries
than these concealed. From the midst of all this squalidness and misery
there still beamed from her sunken eyes a great portion of their former
beauty, and her voice still possessed the same inexpressible charm that
had characterized it so strongly in the days of her prime. Octavius made
her go back to her bed again and lie down.

Cleopatra then began to talk and excuse herself for what she had done,
attributing all the blame of her conduct to Antony. Octavius, however,
interrupted her, and defended Antony from her criminations, saying to
her that it was not his fault so much as hers. She then suddenly changed
her tone, and acknowledging her sins, piteously implored mercy. She
begged Octavius to pardon and spare her, as if now she were afraid of
death and dreaded it, instead of desiring it as a boon. In a word, her
mind, the victim and the prey alternately of the most dissimilar and
inconsistent passions, was now overcome by fear. To propitiate Octavius,
she brought out a list of all her private treasures, and delivered it to
him as a complete inventory of all that she had. One of her treasurers,
however, named Zeleucus, who was standing by, said to Octavius that that
list was not complete. Cleopatra had, he alleged, reserved several
things of great value, which she had not put down upon it.

This assertion, thus suddenly exposing her duplicity, threw Cleopatra
into a violent rage. She sprang from her bed and assaulted her secretary
in a most furious manner. Octavius and the others who were here
interposed, and compelled Cleopatra to lie down again, which she did,
uttering all the time the most grievous complaints at the wretched
degradation to which she was reduced, to be insulted thus by her own
servant at such a time. If she had reserved any thing, she said, of her
private treasures, it was only for presents to some of her faithful
friends, to induce them the more zealously to intercede with Octavius in
her behalf. Octavius replied by urging her to feel no concern on the
subject whatever. He freely gave her, he said, all that she had
reserved, and he promised in other respects to treat her in the most
honorable and courteous manner.

Octavius was much pleased at the result of this interview. It was
obvious, as it appeared to him, that Cleopatra had ceased to desire to
die; that she now, on the contrary, wished to live, and that he should
accordingly succeed in his desire of taking her him to grace his triumph
at Rome. He accordingly made his arrangements for departure, and
Cleopatra was notified that in three days she was to set out, together
with her children, to go into Syria. Octavius said Syria, as he did not
wish to alarm Cleopatra by speaking of Rome. She, however, understood
well where the journey, if once commenced, would necessarily end, and
she was fully determined in her own mind that she would never go there.

She asked to be allowed to pay one parting visit to Antony's tomb. This
request was granted; and she went to the tomb with a few attendants,
carrying with her chaplets and garlands of flowers. At the tomb her
grief broke forth anew, and was as violent as ever. She bewailed her
lover's death with loud cries and lamentations, uttered while she was
placing the garlands upon the tomb, and offering the oblations and
incense, which were customary in those days, as expressions of grief.
"These," said she, as she made the offerings, "are the last tributes of
affection that I can ever pay thee, my dearest, dearest lord. I can not
join thee, for I am a captive and a prisoner, and they will not let me
die. They watch me every hour, and are going to bear me far away, to
exhibit me to thine enemies, as a badge and trophy of their triumph over
thee. Oh intercede, dearest Antony, with the gods where thou art now,
since those that reign here on earth have utterly forsaken me; implore
them to save me from this fate, and let me die here in my native land,
and be buried by thy side in this tomb."

When Cleopatra returned to her apartment again after this melancholy
ceremony, she seemed to be more composed than she had been before. She
went to the bath, and then she attired herself handsomely for supper.
She had ordered supper that night to be very sumptuously served. She was
at liberty to make these arrangements, for the restrictions upon her
movements, which had been imposed at first, were now removed, her
appearance and demeanor having been for some time such as to lead
Octavius to suppose that there was no longer any danger that she would
attempt self-destruction. Her entertainment was arranged, therefore,
according to her directions, in a manner corresponding with the customs
of her court when she had been a queen. She had many attendants, and
among them were two of her own women. These women were long-tried and
faithful servants and friends.

While she was at supper, a man tame to the door with a basket, and
wished to enter. The guards asked him what he had in his basket. He
opened it to let them see; and, lifting up some green leaves which were
laid over the top, he showed the soldiers that the basket was filled
with figs. He said that they were for Cleopatra's supper. The soldiers
admired the appearance of the figs, saying that they were very fine and
beautiful. The man asked the soldiers to take some of them. This they
declined, but allowed the man to pass in. When the supper was ended,
Cleopatra sent all of her attendants away except the two women. They
remained. After a little time, one of these women came out with a letter
for Octavius, which Cleopatra had written, and which she wished to have
immediately delivered. One of the soldiers from the guard stationed at
the gates was accordingly dispatched to carry the letter. Octavius, when
it was given to him, opened the envelope at once and read the letter,
which was written, as was customary in those days, on a small tablet of
metal. He found that it was a brief but urgent petition from Cleopatra,
written evidently in agitation and excitement, praying that he would
overlook her offense, and allow her to be buried with Antony. Octavius
immediately inferred that she had destroyed herself. He sent off some
messengers at once, with orders to go directly to her place of
confinement and ascertain the truth, intending to follow them himself
immediately.

The messengers, on their arrival at the gates, found the sentinels and
soldiers quietly on guard before the door, as if all were well. On
entering Cleopatra's room, however, they beheld a shocking spectacle.
Cleopatra was lying dead upon a couch. One of her women was upon the
floor, dead too. The other, whose name was Charmian, was sitting over
the body of her mistress, fondly caressing her, arranging flowers in her
hair, and adorning her diadem. The messengers of Octavius, on witnessing
this spectacle, were overcome with amazement, and demanded of Charmian
what it could mean. "It is all right," said Charmian. "Cleopatra has
acted in a manner worthy of a princess descended from so noble a line of
kings." As Charmian said this, she began to sink herself, fainting, upon
the bed, and almost immediately expired.

The by-standers were not only shocked at the spectacle which was thus
presented before them, but they were perplexed and confounded in their
attempts to discover by what means Cleopatra and her women had succeeded
in effecting their design. They examined the bodies, but no marks of
violence were to be discovered. They looked all around the room, but no
weapons, and no indication of any means of poison, were to be found.
They discovered something that appeared like the slimy track of an
animal on the wall, toward a window, which they thought might have been
produced by an _asp_; but the reptile itself was nowhere to be seen.
They examined the body with great care, but no marks of any bite or
sting were to be found, except that there were two very slight and
scarcely discernible punctures on the arm, which some persons fancied
might have been so caused. The means and manner of her death seemed to
be involved in impenetrable mystery.

There were various rumors on the subject subsequently in circulation
both at Alexandria and at Rome, though the mystery was never fully
solved. Some said that there was an asp concealed among the figs which
the servant man brought in in the basket; that he brought it in that
manner, by a preconcerted arrangement between him and Cleopatra, and
that, when she received it, she placed the creature on her arm. Others
say that she had a small steel instrument like a needle, with a poisoned
point, which she had kept concealed in her hair, and that she killed
herself with that, without producing any visible wound. Another story
was, that she had an asp in a box somewhere in her apartment, which she
had reserved for this occasion, and when the time finally came, that she
pricked and teased it with a golden bodkin to make it angry, and then
placed it upon her flesh and received its sting. Which of these stones,
if either of them, was true, could never be known. It has, however, been
generally believed among mankind that Cleopatra died in some way or
other by the self-inflicted sting of the asp, and paintings and
sculptures without number have been made to illustrate and commemorate
the scene.

This supposition in respect to the mode of her death is, in fact,
confirmed by the action of Octavius himself on his return to Rome, which
furnishes a strong indication of his opinion of the manner in which his
captive at last eluded him. Disappointed in not being able to exhibit
the queen herself in his triumphal train, he caused a golden statue
representing her to be made, with an image of an asp upon the arm of it,
and this sculpture he caused to be borne conspicuously before him in his
grand triumphal entry into the capital, as the token and trophy of the
final downfall of the unhappy Egyptian queen.

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