Famous Affinities of History | Page 5

gorgeous festivals, by the fantastic adornment of her own person and
her palace, or by brilliant discussions on literature and art; she could
conjure up all their grossest instincts with the vilest obscenities of
conversation, with the free and easy jocularity of a woman of the
camps.
These last words are far too strong, and they represent only Ferrero's
personal opinion; yet there is no doubt that she met every mood of
Antony's so that he became enthralled with her at once. No such
woman as this had ever cast her eyes on him before. He had a wife at
home--a most disreputable wife--so that he cared little for domestic ties.
Later, out of policy, he made another marriage with the sister of his
rival, Octavian, but this wife he never cared for. His heart and soul

were given up to Cleopatra, the woman who could be a comrade in the
camp and a fount of tenderness in their hours of dalliance, and who
possessed the keen intellect of a man joined to the arts and fascinations
of a woman.
On her side she found in Antony an ardent lover, a man of vigorous
masculinity, and, moreover, a soldier whose armies might well sustain
her on the throne of Egypt. That there was calculation mingled with her
love, no one can doubt. That some calculation also entered into
Antony's affection is likewise certain. Yet this does not affect the truth
that each was wholly given to the other. Why should it have lessened
her love for him to feel that he could protect her and defend her? Why
should it have lessened his love for her to know that she was queen of
the richest country in the world--one that could supply his needs,
sustain his armies, and gild his triumphs with magnificence?
There are many instances in history of regnant queens who loved and
yet whose love was not dissociated from the policy of state. Such were
Anne of Austria, Elizabeth of England, and the unfortunate Mary Stuart.
Such, too, we cannot fail to think, was Cleopatra.
The two remained together for ten years. In this time Antony was
separated from her only during a campaign in the East. In Alexandria
he ceased to seem a Roman citizen and gave himself up wholly to the
charms of this enticing woman. Many stories are told of their good
fellowship and close intimacy. Plutarch quotes Plato as saying that
there are four kinds of flattery, but he adds that Cleopatra had a
thousand. She was the supreme mistress of the art of pleasing.
Whether Antony were serious or mirthful, she had at the instant some
new delight or some new charm to meet his wishes. At every turn she
was with him both day and night. With him she threw dice; with him
she drank; with him she hunted; and when he exercised himself in arms
she was there to admire and applaud.
At night the pair would disguise themselves as servants and wander
about the streets of Alexandria. In fact, more than once they were set
upon in the slums and treated roughly by the rabble who did not

recognize them. Cleopatra was always alluring, always tactful, often
humorous, and full of frolic.
Then came the shock of Antony's final breach with Octavian. Either
Antony or his rival must rule the world. Cleopatra's lover once more
became the Roman general, and with a great fleet proceeded to the
coast of Greece, where his enemy was encamped. Antony had raised a
hundred and twelve thousand troops and five hundred ships--a force far
superior to that commanded by Octavian. Cleopatra was there with
sixty ships.
In the days that preceded the final battle much took place which still
remains obscure. It seems likely that Antony desired to become again
the Roman, while Cleopatra wished him to thrust Rome aside and
return to Egypt with her, to reign there as an independent king. To her
Rome was almost a barbarian city. In it she could not hold sway as she
could in her beautiful Alexandria, with its blue skies and velvet turf and
tropical flowers. At Rome Antony would be distracted by the cares of
state, and she would lose her lover. At Alexandria she would have him
for her very own.
The clash came when the hostile fleets met off the promontory of
Actium. At its crisis Cleopatra, prematurely concluding that the battle
was lost, of a sudden gave the signal for retreat and put out to sea with
her fleet. This was the crucial moment. Antony, mastered by his love,
forgot all else, and in a swift ship started in pursuit of her, abandoning
his fleet and army to win or lose as fortune might decide. For him the
world was nothing; the