CHAPTER XII.
THE ALLIANCE BETWEEN CLEOPATRA AND ANTONY.
Determined to win the fickle Antony back to her cause and that of her son, Cleopatra set sail from Alexandria, and, passing between Cyprus and the coast of Syria, at length one morning entered the mouth of the Cydnus in Cilicia, and made her way up to the city of Tarsus which was situated on the banks of the river in the shadow of the wooded slopes of the Taurus mountains. The city was famous both for its maritime commerce and for its school of oratory. The ships of Tarshish (i.e., Tarsus) had been renowned since ancient days, and upon these vessels the rhetoricians travelled far and wide, carrying the methods of their alma mater throughout the known world. Julius Cæsar and Cato may be named as two of the pupils of this school who have played their parts in the foregoing pages;[83] and now Antony, the foremost Roman of this period, was honouring Tarsus itself with his presence. The city stood some miles back from the sea, and it was late afternoon before its buildings and busy docks were observed by the Egyptians, sheltering against the slopes of the mountains. As the fleet sailed up the Cydnus, the people of the neighbourhood swarmed down to the water’s edge to watch its stately progress; and the excitement was intense when it was seen that the Queen’s vessel was fitted and decked out in the most extravagant manner. Near the city the river widens into a quiet lake, and here in the roads, where lay the world-renowned merchant vessels, Cleopatra’s ships probably came to anchor, while the quays and embankments were crowded with the townsfolk who had gathered to witness the Queen’s arrival.
On hearing of her approach Antony had seated himself upon the public tribunal in the market-place, expecting that she would land at once and come to pay her respects to him in official manner. But Cleopatra had no intention of playing a part which might in any way be interpreted as that of a vassal or suppliant; and she therefore seems to have remained on board her ship at a distance from the shore, as though in no haste to meet Antony.
Meanwhile reports began to spread of the magnificence of the Queen’s vessels, and it was said that preparations were being made on board for the reception of the Triumvir. The crowds surrounding the tribunal thereupon hurried from the market-place to join those upon the quays, and soon Antony was left alone with his retinue. There he sat waiting for some time, till, losing patience, he sent a message to the Queen inviting her to dine with him. To this she replied by asking him to bring the Roman and local magnates to dine with her instead; and Antony, not wishing to stand upon ceremony with his old friend, at once accepted the invitation. At dusk, therefore, Cleopatra appears to have ordered her vessel to be brought across the lake to the city, and to be moored at the crowded quay, where already Antony was waiting to come on board; and the burly Roman, always a lover of theatrical display, must then have been entertained by a spectacle more stirring than any he had known before.
Across the water, in which the last light of the sunset was reflected, the royal galley was rowed by banks of silver-mounted oars, the great purple sails hanging idly in the still air of evening. The vessel was steered by two oar-like rudders, controlled by helmsmen who stood in the stern of the ship under a shelter constructed in the form of an enormous elephant’s head of shining gold, the trunk raised aloft.[84] Around the helmsmen a number of beautiful slave-women were grouped in the guise of sea-nymphs and graces; and near them a company of musicians played a melody upon their flutes, pipes, and harps, for which the slow-moving oars seemed to beat the time. Cleopatra herself, decked in the loose, shimmering robes of the goddess Venus, lay under an awning bespangled with gold, while boys dressed as Cupids stood on either side of her couch, fanning her with the coloured ostrich plumes of the Egyptian court. Before the royal canopy brazen censers stood upon delicate pedestals, sending forth fragrant clouds of exquisitely prepared Egyptian incense, the marvellous odour of which was wafted to the shore ere yet the vessel had come to its moorings.[85]
At last, as the light of day began to fade, the royal galley was moored to the crowded quay, and Antony stepped on board, followed by the chief officers of his staff and by the local celebrities of Tarsus. His meeting with the Queen appears to have been of the most cordial nature, for the manner of her approach must have made it impossible for him at that moment to censure her conduct. Moreover, the splendid allurements of the scene in which they met, the enchantment of the twilight, the enticement of her beauty, the delicacy of the music blending with the ripple of the water, the intoxication of the incense and the priceless perfumes, must have stirred his imagination and driven from his mind all thought of reproach. Nor could he have found much opportunity for serious conversation with her, for presently the company was led down to the banqueting-saloon where a dinner of the utmost magnificence was served. Twelve triple couches, covered with embroideries and furnished with cushions, were set around the room, before each of which stood a table whereon rested golden dishes inlaid with precious stones, and drinking goblets of exquisite workmanship. The walls of the saloon were hung with embroideries worked in purple and gold, and the floor was strewn with flowers. Antony could not refrain from exclaiming at the splendour of the entertainment, whereupon Cleopatra declared that it was not worthy of comment; and, there and then, she made him a present of everything used at the banquet—dishes, drinking-vessels, couches, embroideries, and all else in the saloon. Returning once more to the deck, the elated guests, now made more impressionable by the effects of Egyptian wine, were amazed to find themselves standing beneath a marvellous kaleidoscope of lanterns, hung in squares and circles from a forest of branches interlaced above their heads, and in these almost magical surroundings they enjoyed the enlivening company of the fascinating young Queen until the wine-jars were emptied and the lamps had burnt low.
From the shore the figures of the revellers, moving to and fro amidst this galaxy of lights to the happy strains of the music, must have appeared to be actors in some divine masque; and it was freely stated, as though it had been fact, that Venus had come down to earth to feast with Dionysos (Antony) for the common good of Asia. Cleopatra, as we have already seen, had been identified with Venus during the time when she lived in Rome; and in Egypt she was always deified. And thus the character in which she presented herself at Tarsus was not assumed, as is generally supposed, simply for the purpose of creating a charming picture, but it was her wish actually to be received as a goddess, that Antony might behold in her the divine Queen of Egypt whom the great Cæsar himself had accepted and honoured as an incarnation of Venus. It must be remembered that at this period men were very prone to identify prominent persons with popular divinities. Julia, the daughter of Octavian, was in like manner identified with Venus Genetrix by the inhabitants of certain cities. We have seen how Cæsar seems to have been named Lupercus, and how Antony was called Dionysos (Bacchus); and it will be remembered how, at Lystra, Paul and Barnabas were saluted as Hermes and Zeus. In the many known cases, such as these, the people actually credited the identification; and though a little thought probably checked a continuance of such a belief, at the time there seemed to be no cause for doubt that these divinities had made themselves manifest on earth. The crowds who stood on the banks of the Cydnus that night must therefore have really believed themselves to be peeping at an entertainment provided by a manifestation of a popular goddess for the amusement of an incarnation of a favourite god.
It would appear that Antony invited Cleopatra to sup with him on the following evening, but the Queen seems to have urged him and his suite again to feast with her. This second banquet was so far more splendid than the first that, according to Plutarch, the entertainment already described seemed by comparison to be contemptible. When the guests departed, not only did she give to each one the couch upon which he had lain, and the goblets which had been set before him, but she also presented the chief guests with litters, and with slaves to carry them, and Ethiopian boys to bear torches in front of them; while for the lesser guests she provided horses adorned with golden trappings, which they were bidden to keep as mementos of the banquet.
On the next night Cleopatra at last deigned to dine with Antony, who had exhausted the resources of Tarsus in his desire to provide a feast which should equal in magnificence those given by the Queen; but in this he failed, and he was the first to make a jest of his unsuccess and of the poverty of his wits. The Queen’s entertainments had been marked by that brilliancy of conversation and atmosphere of refinement which in past years had so appealed to the intelligence of the great Dictator; but Antony’s banquet, on the contrary, was notable for the coarseness of the wit and for what Plutarch describes as a sort of rustic awkwardness. Cleopatra, however, was equal to the occasion, and speedily adjusted her conduct to suit that of her burly host. “Perceiving that his raillery was broad and gross, and that it savoured more of the soldier than of the courtier, she rejoined in the same taste, and fell at once into that manner, without any sort of reluctance or reserve.”[86] Thus she soon succeeded in captivating this powerful Roman, and in making him her most devoted friend and ally. There was something irresistible in the excitement of her presence: for the daintiness of her person, the vivacity of her character, and the enchantment of her voice, were, so to speak, enhanced by the audacity of her treatment of the broad subjects introduced in conversation. Antony had sent for her to censure her for a supposed negligence of his interests; but speedily he was led to realise that he himself, and not the Queen, had deviated from the course upon which they had agreed in Rome. It was he who, by his association with Octavian, had appeared to desert what Cleopatra believed to be the genuine Cæsarian cause; whereas, on the other hand, the Queen was able to show that she had refrained from sending aid to the Triumvirate simply because she could not decide in what manner the welfare of her son, the little Cæsar, was to be promoted by such an action. Under the spell of her attraction Antony, who in the Dictator’s lifetime had never been permitted to receive in his heart the full force of her charming attack, now fell an easy victim to her strategy, and declared himself ready to carry out her wishes in all things.