Cleopatra had observed from his words and manner that he wished to exhibit her in Rome, and that he had little intention of allowing her son Cæsarion to reign in her place, but purposed to seize Egypt on behalf of Rome. Far from reassuring her, the interview had left her with the certainty that the doom of the dynasty was sealed; and already she saw clearly that there was nothing left for which to live. Presently a messenger from Cornelius Dolabella came to her, and broke the secret news to her that Octavian, finding her now recovered from her illness, had decided to ship her off to Rome with her two children in three days’ time or less. It is possible, also, that Dolabella was already able to tell her that there was no hope for her son Cæsarion, for that Octavian had decided to kill him so soon as he could lay hands on him, realising, at the instance of his Alexandrian friend Areius, that it was unwise to leave at large one who claimed to be the rightful successor of the great Dictator.
On hearing this news the Queen determined to kill herself at once, for her despair was such that the fact of existence had become intolerable to her. In her mind she must have pictured Octavian’s Triumph in Rome, in which she and her children would figure as the chief exhibits. She would be led in chains up to the Capitol, even as she had watched her sister Arsinoe paraded in the Triumph of Julius Cæsar; and she could hear in imagination the jeers and groans of the townspeople, who would not fail to remind her of her former boast that she would one day sit in royal judgment where then she would be standing in abject humiliation. The thought, which of itself was more than she could bear, was coupled with the certainty that, were she to prolong her life, she would have to suffer also the shock of her beloved son’s cruel murder, for already his death seemed inevitable.
Having therefore made up her mind, she sent a message to Octavian asking his permission for her to visit Antony’s tomb, in order to make the usual oblations to his spirit. This was granted to her, and upon the next morning, August 29th, she was carried in her litter to the grave, accompanied by her women. Arriving at the spot she threw herself upon the gravestone, embracing it in a very passion of woe. “Oh, dearest Antony,” she cried, the tears streaming down her face, “it is not long since with these hands I buried you. Then they were free; now I am a captive; and I pay these last duties to you with a guard upon me, for fear that my natural griefs and sorrows should impair my servile body and make it less fit to be exhibited in their Triumph over you. Expect no further offerings or libations from me, Antony; these are the last honours that Cleopatra will be able to pay to your memory, for she is to be hurried far away from you. Nothing could part us while we lived, but death seems to threaten to divide us. You, a Roman born, have found a grave in Egypt. I, an Egyptian, am to seek that favour, and none but that, in your country. But if the gods below, with whom you now are dwelling, can or will do anything for me, since those above have betrayed us, do not allow your living wife to be abandoned, let me not be led in Triumph to your shame; but hide me, hide me: bury me here with you. For amongst all my bitter misfortunes nothing has been so terrible as this brief time that I have lived away from you.”[145]
For some moments she lay upon the tombstone passionately kissing it, her past quarrels with the dead man all forgotten in her desire for his companionship now in her loneliness, and only her earlier love for him being remembered in the tumult of her mind. Then, rising and placing some wreaths of flowers upon the grave, she entered her litter and was carried back to the mausoleum.
Vatican.]
[Photograph by Anderson.
THE NILE.
AN EXAMPLE OF ALEXANDRIAN ART.
As soon as she had arrived she ordered her bath to be prepared, and having been washed and scented, her hair being carefully plaited around her head, she lay down upon a couch and partook of a sumptuous meal. After this she wrote a short letter to Octavian, asking that she might be buried in the same tomb with Antony; and, this being despatched, she ordered everybody to leave the mausoleum with the exception of Charmion and Iras, as though she did not wish to be disturbed in her afternoon’s siesta. The doors were then closed, and the sentries mounted guard on the outside in the usual manner.