Suddenly there was a deep roar, as though the sea were pouring in. A thousand trumpets rang out and the victorious army marched into sight. The cavalry, in sparkling armour, led the way. Then the chariots shook the ground as they rolled by in martial splendour, laden with gold, silver, statues, all the spoils taken from the violated temples. Thousands of captives, with arms bound and heads bent, followed. Then King Artabazes, his wife and their two sons, appeared, their arms fastened with silver chains in token of their former grandeur. At last, standing in his chariot drawn by four foaming chargers, his brow crowned with golden laurel, superb in, his robes of royal purple, came the Imperator.
On a platform draped with sumptuous silk, Cleopatra awaited him, her children by her side. On the first step stood Cæsarion, his face, even more than his name, recalling the divine Cæsar. No ceremony in Cleopatra's day had even approached this in royal grandeur, and surely no other one had ever held such a triumph for her. What it meant for this proud woman, who had borne the scoffs and jeers of Rome, to see its highest dignitaries prostrate at her feet! What a revenge to count by hundreds their golden eagles! In order to leave no doubt as to her intention of putting herself in the place of their god, Jupiter, she was wearing the silver tiara, surmounted by the sacred asp, which was the head-dress of her own goddess, Isis.
As the Imperator appeared she rose, advanced to the edge of the platform, and handed him the lotus sceptre, the replica of her own, in token that he was to share with her the throne of Egypt.
Antony's face was radiant. From his exalted stand he proclaimed her Queen of Kings, Empress, Goddess, and announced once more her sovereignty over the kingdoms which he had recently presented to her. Turning to the children, whose young heads were weighed down by their diadems, he explained the order of their inheritance. The eldest was to have Media, Armenia, and the land of the Parthians. Helios would inherit the Libyan provinces; and his twin sister, Selene, Phoenicia and the island of Cyprus. Cæsarion, who had just reached his fourteenth year and laid aside the white and purple robe of the Roman youth for the toga of manhood, he declared to be the sole heir of his father, Julius Cæsar.
There was deafening applause, as though Alexandria with her group of prospective kings was indeed the capital of all the world.
The sun dropped into the sea. From the gates of Canopus to the Necropolis, the line of houses began to show lights, one by one, in the gathering darkness, their roofs glowing red from the glare of the torches. All sorts of festivities began. Oil, wine, and wheat were distributed to the eager crowds; handfuls of money were thrown to the populace and gathered up as quickly as it fell. The huge tables in the palace gardens were loaded with refreshments. There were spectacles of every variety, noble and obscene, artistic and bloody, to suit all manner of tastes. The arena, as always, attracted the larger number of people. The animals had been let loose, and, with a license never permitted in Rome, young aristocrats took the part of the gladiators. When these contestants whetted the appetite of the wild beasts by offering their bare arms the whole audience stood up and watched, breathless, to see the blood gush out.
Following the Roman custom, these fêtes went on for forty days. On the opening evening Cleopatra and Antony appeared in their royal robes, apart—as befitted their position as sovereigns. Mounted on elephants, gleaming with jewels, they went through the different quarters of the city. But they soon wearied of this imposing regalia; it isolated them, kept them at a distance from the various amusements whose echoes appealed to their desire for entertainment. They dismissed the elephants and attendants and went about on foot through the paved streets. Once there, the feverish need for further excitement that stirs all merry-makers in Saturnalia took possession of them. They mixed with the rioters, enjoying their ribald jests and gross pleasures, and heedless of all sense of dignity, they wandered about as in the old days when they frequented the disreputable resorts of the Rhakotis.
Drink and excitement had stolen Antony's senses, and he conceived the grotesque notion of ending the festival with a gigantic orgy and masquerade, where, disguised as Silenus, surrounded by a crowd of bacchanals, he would wander through the streets all night long. There is a legend that owing to an amethyst ring, given to her by one of her necromancers, Cleopatra never lost her presence of mind. She chose the moment when Antony was utterly intoxicated to add a final insult to those that had been heaped upon Rome during this festival of folly. Mimics, eunuchs, the lowest kind of actors, were mounted on curules, the ivory chairs of state reserved for the highest dignitaries, and, in ridicule of a revered Roman custom, the Queen ordered all the Romans then in Alexandria to file past this rabble.
This scandal crowned the succession of orgies. When the news of it reached Octavius his heart quivered with delight! It supplied the means, which he had lacked the wit to devise, to undermine Antony's prestige. Careful and cunning, he suppressed his first instinct to make use of these outrages at once for his own advantage. It was not the right moment to attack an adversary who, in spite of blatant faults, had many warm partisans. Before beginning this assault he must win favour for himself and dispel the unflattering impressions that he had made in his youth. Versed in the trick of changing his policy, he effected such a complete alteration of standards that to this day it is uncertain which represented his real self: the cruel, suspicious, perfidious tyrant that he had seemed up to that time, or the gracious prince, the patron of art and letters, who has been known for so many centuries as Augustus Cæsar!
Cheating and trickery unquestionably played a part in this sudden metamorphosis, but it is possible that, seeing the wisdom of honesty, he used it as an instrument for promoting his own interests. At all events, if he were not a better man, his conduct from that time gave every evidence of it.