The features of her face seem to have been strongly moulded, although the general effect given is that of smallness and delicacy. Her nose was aquiline and prominent, the nostrils being sensitive and having an appearance of good breeding. Her mouth was beautifully formed, the lips appearing to be finely chiselled. Her eyes were large and well placed, her eyebrows delicately pencilled. The contour of her cheek and chin was charmingly rounded, softening, thus, the lines of her clear-cut features. “Her beauty,” says Plutarch, “was not in itself altogether incomparable, nor such as to strike those who saw her”; and he adds that Octavia, afterwards Antony’s wife, was the more beautiful of the two women. But he admits, and no other man denies, that her personal charm and magnetism were very great. “She was splendid to hear and to see,” says Dion Cassius, “and was capable of conquering the hearts which had resisted most obstinately the influence of love and those which had been frozen by age.”
It is probable that she was very small in build. In order to obtain admittance to her palace upon an occasion of which we shall presently read, it is related that she was rolled up in some bedding and carried over the shoulders of an attendant, a fact which indicates that her weight was not considerable. The British Museum bust seems to portray the head of a small woman; and, moreover, Plutarch refers to her in terms which suggest that her charm lay to some extent in her daintiness. One imagines her thus to have been in appearance a small, graceful woman; prettily rounded rather than slight; white-skinned; dark-haired and dark-eyed; beautiful, and yet by no means a perfect type of beauty.
Her voice is said to have been her most powerful weapon, for by the perfection of its modulations it was at all times wonderfully persuasive and seductive.
“The Devil hath not, in all his quiver’s choice,
An arrow for the heart like a sweet voice,”
says Byron; and in the case of Cleopatra this poignant gift of Nature must have served her well throughout her life. “Familiarity with her,” writes Plutarch, “had an irresistible charm; and her form, combined with her persuasive speech, and with the peculiar character which in a manner was diffused about her behaviour, produced a certain piquancy. There was a sweetness in the sound of her voice when she spoke.” “Her charm of speech,” Dion Cassius tells us, “was such that she won all who listened.”
Her grace of manner was as irresistible as her voice; for, as Plutarch remarks, there seems to have been this peculiar, undefined charm in her behaviour. It may have been largely due to a kind of elusiveness and subtilty; but it would seem also to have been accentuated by a somewhat naïve and childish manner, a waywardness, an audacity, a capriciousness, which enchanted those around her. Though often wild and inclined to romp, she possessed considerable dignity and at times was haughty and proud. Pliny speaks of her as being disdainful and vain, and indeed so Cicero found her when he met her in Rome; but this was an attitude perhaps assumed by the Queen as a defence against the light criticisms of those Roman nobles of the Pompeian faction who may have found her position not so honourable as she herself believed it to be. There is, indeed, little to indicate that her manner was by nature overbearing; and one is inclined to picture her as a natural, impulsive woman who passed readily from haughtiness to simplicity. Her actions were spontaneous, and one may suppose her to have been in her early years as often artless as cunning. Her character was always youthful, her temperament vivacious, and her manner frequently what may be called harum-scarum. She enjoyed life, and with candour took from it whatever pleasures it held out to her. Her untutored heart leapt from mirth to sorrow, from comedy to tragedy, with unexpected ease; and with her small hands she tossed about her the fabric of her complex circumstances like a mantle of light and darkness.
She was a gifted woman, endowed by nature with ready words and a happy wit. “She could easily turn her tongue,” says Plutarch, “like a many-stringed instrument, to any language that she pleased. She had very seldom need of an interpreter for her communication with foreigners, but she answered most men by herself, namely Ethiopians, Troglodytes, Hebrews, Arabs, Syrians, Medes, and Parthians. She is said to have learned the language of many other peoples, though the kings, her predecessors, had not even taken the pains to learn the Egyptian tongue, and some of them had not so much as given up the Macedonian dialect.” Statecraft made a strong appeal to her, and as Queen of Egypt she served the cause of her dynasty’s independence and aggrandisement with passionate energy. Dion Cassius tells us that she was intensely ambitious, and most careful that due honour should be paid to her throne. Her actions go to confirm this estimate, and one may see her consumed at times with a legitimate desire for world-power. Though clever and bold she was not highly skilled, so far as one can see, in the diplomatic art; but she seems to have plotted and schemed in the manner common to her house, not so much with great acuteness or profound depth as with sustained intensity and a sort of conviction. Tenacity of purpose is seen to have been her prevailing characteristic; and her unwavering struggle for her rights and those of her son Cæsarion will surely be followed by the interested reader through the long story before him with real admiration.
It is unanimously supposed that Cleopatra was, as Josephus words it, a slave to her lusts. The vicious sensuality of the East, the voluptuous degeneracy of an Oriental court, are thought to have found their most apparent expression in the person of this unfortunate Queen. Yet what was there, beyond the ignorant and prejudiced talk of her Roman enemies, to give a foundation to such an estimate of her character? She lived practically as Cæsar’s wife for some years, it being said, I believe with absolute truth, that he intended to make her Empress of Rome and his legal consort. After his assassination she married Antony, and cohabited with him until the last days of her life. At an age when the legal rights of marriage were violated on every side, when all Rome and all Alexandria were deeply involved in domestic intrigues, Cleopatra, so far as I can see, confined her attentions to the two men who in sequence each acted towards her in the manner of a legitimate husband, each being recognised in Egypt as her divinely-sanctioned consort. The words of Dion Cassius, which tell us that “no wealth could satisfy her, and her passions were insatiable,” do not suggest a more significant foundation than that her life was lived on extravagant and prodigal lines. There is no doubt that she was open to the accusations of her enemies, who described her habits as dissipated and intemperate; but there seems to be little to indicate that she was in any way a Delilah or a Jezebel. For all we know, she may have been a very moral woman: certainly she was the fond mother of four children, a fact which, even at that day, may be said to indicate, to a certain extent, a voluntary assumption of the duties of motherhood. After due consideration of all the evidence, I am of opinion that though her nature may have been somewhat voluptuous, and though her passions were not always under control, the best instincts of her sex were by no means absent; and indeed, in her maternal aspect, she may be described as a really good woman.
The state of society at the time must be remembered. In Rome, as well as in Alexandria, love intrigues were continuously in progress. Mommsen, in writing of the moral corruption of the age, speaks of the extraordinary degeneracy of the dancing girl of the period, whose record “pollutes even the pages of history.” “But,” he adds, “their, as it were, licensed trade was materially injured by the free act of the ladies of aristocratic circles. Liaisons in the first houses had become so frequent that only a scandal altogether exceptional could make them the subject of special talk, and judicial interference seemed now almost ridiculous.” Against such a background Cleopatra’s domestic life with Cæsar, and afterwards with Antony, assumes, by contrast, a fair character which is not without its refreshing aspect. We see her intense and lifelong devotion to her eldest son Cæsarion, we picture her busy nursery in the royal palace, which at one time resounded to the cries of a pair of lusty twins, and the vision of the Oriental voluptuary fades from our eyes. Can this dainty little woman, we ask, who soothes at her breast the cries of her fat baby, while three sturdy youngsters play around her, be the sensuous Queen of the East? Can this tender, ingenuous, smiling mother of Cæsar’s beloved son be the Siren of Egypt? There is not a particle of trustworthy evidence to show that Cleopatra carried on a single love affair in her life other than the two recorded so dramatically by history, nor is there any evidence to show that in those two affairs she conducted herself in a licentious manner.