The gods, too, no matter what might be the moral aspect of the private life of royalty, were worshipped and revered, and with the temples of Denderah and Philæ the name of Cleopatra VI is especially associated. Though less gigantic than some of the others, the Temple of Hathor, the Goddess of Love, at Denderah, with that at Philae were none the less beautiful. Here at Dendera or Denderah, the Tentyra of the Greeks, a yearly festival was conducted with great splendor. The original edifice dated back to the earliest period of Egyptian history; it was added to and altered by the monarchs of the Twelfth Dynasty, by Thothmes III and by Rameses II and III. It is said to have contained no less than twelve crypts. On the site of this old building the later Ptolemies had re-erected a newer structure, and it is here, on the southern, rear wall was found the conventional portrait of Cleopatra VI, as Isis, and her son Caesarion.
The exquisite beauty of the ruins at Philae still charm the beholder—graceful columns and feathery palms, like cameos against the radiant blue of the sky, the river softly lapping at their feet. We can imagine the splendor and magnificence of it all, when in the completeness of its perfection and the queenly Venus with her attendant train of followers, adding its artistic and picturesque human element to the scene.
Thus in gaiety and revel the Roman soldier, forgetful of his duties, and his fair enchantress, passed the time. Says Plutarch further of Cleopatra: “Plato admits four sorts of flattery, but she had a thousand. Were Antony serious or disposed to mirth she had at any moment some new delight or charm to meet his wishes; at every turn she was upon him, drank with him, hunted with him, and when he exercised in arms she was there to see. At night she would go rambling with him to disturb and torment people at their doors and windows, dressed like a servant woman, for Anthony also went in servant’s disguise.” But it is further added that “the Alexandrians in general all liked it well enough and joined good humoredly and kindly in his frolic and play, saying they were much obliged to Antony for acting the tragic parts at Rome and keeping his comedy for them.”
The story of the fishing party is among the more innocent of these frolics. Antony, not having good luck, secretly caused divers to put fishes upon his hook, which Cleopatra discovering, got beforehand with him and had a salted, dried fish put on, which of course caused much amusement and merriment when drawn to the surface, and “the laughing queen” is reported to have said, “Leave the fishing, General, to us poor sovereigns of Pharos and Canopus; your game is cities, kingdoms and provinces!”
But the blackest stain upon this period is the murder of the poor princess, Arsinoe, who had taken refuge at Miletus, in the temple of Artemis Leucophryne, and who was put to death there by Antony’s orders, at the instigation of Cleopatra. Perhaps beautiful and attractive also, if to a less extent, how different were the experiences of the two sisters! It seems strange that Arsinoe was not already the wife of and under the protection of some powerful noble or king—but Fate decreed differently.
Their mad existence could not continue forever and matters at Rome grew so serious for Antony that he finally tore himself away from his enchantress and returned. His wife came to meet him, but died on the journey, so that legally he was now a free man. One almost wonders that he did not marry Cleopatra and try to make himself king of Egypt, as the first Ptolemy had done. But probably his reason forbade the attempt, and old relations once more began to hold sway. He made peace with the new Caesar, Octavian, Julius’ nephew, and accepted his offer of his half-sister, Octavia, the recent widow of Caius Marcellus, for his wife, the Senate dispensing with the law which obliged a widow to pay the respect of ten months of single life to her late husband. Octavia was a fine and beautiful woman, and is spoken of as serious and gentle, worthy of a better fate than to be the mate of Antony. For a time, however, she won his regard and an influence for good over him, recalling him to his better self, and a return to public duties, till Antony undertook the campaign against Parthion, and came once more within reach of his former enslaver.
For four years he seems to have been separated from Cleopatra, who had borne him twins, and with strange patience bided her time. She is said to have maintained the claims of her eldest son Caesarion and during all this time to have made no demands on Antony. He had left her, spite of all she had done, or could do, to detain him, and wounded, mortified and indignant, perhaps, she held her peace.
Pride is sometimes as strong a motive as love itself. So far solace she turned, as so many before her had done, to the building and repairing of temples.
Ebers has assumed in the preface to his “Cleopatra” that the colossal pair, hand in hand, found at Alexandria in 1892, of which the female figure is fairly preserved, represent Antony and Cleopatra. Once within reach of her, Antony’s old passion revived, and he sent for her to Syria. Very differently she acted from the first time he had summoned her; she needed no second bidding, but came at his call, and all was as before between them. He made her numerous and valuable gifts, acknowledged the twins as his own, giving them the names of Alexander and Cleopatra, and as surnames the titles of “Sun” and “Moon,” and utterly broke loose from all his obligations. Once more Cleopatra triumphed.
She then returned to Egypt, while Antony went further afield; she in the interval going in state to Jerusalem, to visit Herod the Great. Says another writer in “The Greek World Under Roman Sway:” “The scene at Herod’s palace must have been inimitable. The display of counter fascinations between the two tigers, their voluptuous natures mutually attracted, their hatred giving to each the deep interest in the other which so often turns to mutual passion while it incites to conquest, the grace and finish of their manners, concealing a ruthless ferocity, the splendor of their appointments—what more dramatic picture can we imagine in history?”