Cleopatra VI has been described by a late novelist, his picture drawn perhaps from some historical source, as having “a broad head, wavy hair, deep-set eyes, full, eloquent mouth and a long, slender throat.” Charm and talent of the highest order are generally credited to her. She had a musical voice and was a linguist of ability, skilled in Greek and Latin and could converse with Ethiopians, Jews, Arabians, Syrians, Medes and Persians and was proficient in music. Tennyson says of her:
“Her warbling voice a lyre of wildest range,
Struck by all passions.”
And another writer, disputing the fact that she is sometimes depicted as swarthy, says she was “a pure Macedonian of a race akin to and perhaps fairer than the Greeks.”
Ptolemy XIII, the so-called Auletes, came to the throne in a sense under the protection of the Romans, and again took possession of the kingdom. It was at this time that Antony first saw Cleopatra, a girl of fifteen, and was struck with her beauty, he being Master of Horse to the conquering general, Gabrinus. But the acquaintance, if such it was, and not merely a glimpse on Antony’s part, went no further then, and neither probably anticipated their subsequent relations.
Auletes’ will, demanding that his eldest son and daughter should succeed him, was accepted by the mixed populace of Alexandria, and in a degree by the whole country, and for the moment Rome did not interfere. It was a youthful pair to have laid upon them or undertake such a grave responsibility—a mere girl and a child. Cleopatra was but sixteen, Ptolemy only ten. But though young in years, Cleopatra soon showed that she had both the capacity and ambition of an older woman. The direct heritage perhaps from one or other parent included beauty and charm, but a worthless father had but little in the way of character or mental abilities with which to endow his children, and perhaps it was rather from her mother that she derived her superior characteristics. With such paternity and the traditions of the entire race we can hardly wonder at the instances of vice and cruelty which we find recorded of this last royal member of her family. That her story is so interwoven with Roman affairs gives us a clearer knowledge of it than of much of the previous history, which was included only in that of Egypt and Syria.
So Cleopatra, a mere girl of sixteen or seventeen, and her brother of ten, succeeded to the throne and were accepted by the Alexandrians. But the boy was persuaded by his counsellors to oust his sister, who was forced to yield and fled to Syria. That she had both adherents and means, however, is proved by the fact that she did not tamely submit to this violation of the agreement, but promptly raised an army, and this alone seems to indicate that, young as she was, she already showed remarkable abilities and returned to recover her lawful heritage. To live at peace with each other seemed beyond the power of most of the Ptolemy race.
At this point Pompey, seeking for allies, turned toward Egypt, and the father of the young king having been under obligations to him he made overtures to the boy sovereign. But the party in power, who for the time being were “the power behind the throne,” decided to receive him with apparent friendliness, and then treacherously murdered him, hoping thereby to secure the more powerful friendship of his adversary, Caesar. Meanwhile the armies of the young king and his sister lay opposite to each other. Caesar at once came to Egypt and was revolted at the treacherous deed, but was not in a sufficiently strong position to punish the murderers. He was received somewhat coldly and had to proceed with caution, but summoning his legions he remanded that the youthful contestants for the crown should appear before him and discuss their claims peacefully, rather than by force of arms.
This was Cleopatra’s opportunity; her strongest weapons were her personal charms rather than her military powers. At twenty years of age she must have been in the perfect bloom of her beauty, with exquisite eyes and coloring, the sweetest of voices, a fascinating manner, ample powers of wit and rare conversational abilities. To these she trusted, and not in vain. Her position, her very life was at stake; her adversaries, who could probably hope for no consideration at her hands should she again come into power, would no doubt have been glad to assassinate her had opportunity afforded. Fearing this, it is said, and time seems to give credit to the story, she hid herself in a bale of carpet and caused it to be carried to Caesar’s palace by night. No device which her fertile brain and keen wit could invent, we may be sure, was lacking in the accessories of the toilette to produce the effect she desired, to move his pity and secure his assistance. She played a great stake, perhaps with confidence, perhaps with trembling of heart, but she won, for from that time forward till his death Caesar, elderly man though he was, between fifty and sixty years of age, became her fervent admirer. Rarely, if ever, had woman accomplished so much in a single interview. She must have been elated with triumph and renewed confidence in her powers. Yet Caesar did not attempt to make her sole monarch; he lost his heart, so to speak, but not his head, as Antony subsequently did. He decreed that the will of Auletes should be carried out, restored Cyprus to Egypt and proposed that the younger brother and sister, Ptolemy and Arsinoe, should be made its governors. He even insisted that the money Cleopatra’s father had pledged to Rome should be paid. For this purpose it is said the young king’s plate was ostentatiously pawned.
The king’s chief counsellor, Pothinos, not realizing the strength that Caesar could command, nor the personal ability of the man with whom he had to deal, recalled the army and virtually declared war. Cleopatra’s troops had either been hired mercenaries, who deserted or whose time had expired, and who went over to what they considered the winning side, or they had been defeated, for in this emergency she seems to have been able to afford little support to Caesar. In defending himself he set fire to the ships in the harbor, and it is even reported that the great library was burnt, but as various authors make no mention of it this last disaster is questioned.