Touched by her fingers, the cithern seemed instinct with life, and from its strings there rolled a gushing flood of glorious symphonies. She was eloquent and imaginative, witty and animated. Her conversation, therefore, was charming; and if she exhibited caprice, which she sometimes did, it was forgotten in the inimitable grace of her manner.

Had she not been fond of pleasure, she would have · constituted an exception to the times. Yet she was no Sybarite; but, like Aspasia,—or, to find her parallel in a later age, like Margaret of Valois,-she loved to mingle the intellectual with the sensual. There had been a reaction in the social condition of the Egyptian people-the sacerdotal power was diminished the influence of their strange religion was weakened--the prejudice of caste was not felt to the same extent as formerly-refinement had taken the place of austerity, and licentiousness that of gloomy formalism. This change commenced with her father's reign, and her character was formed by the circumstances that surrounded her.

Her vices were those of the age:-her virtues, few though they may have been, were cherished in spite of it. She was superstitious,-but Superstition was then Religion. She was cruel,-but cruelty was the besetting sin of nations and individuals. She was selfish-why should she not have been selfish, with enemies plotting and conspiring against her at her father's court, and seeking in every way to compass her destruction? She was ambitious,-but when were the sons or daughters of kings and princes without am

bition? She possessed strong and ardent passions, which she rarely attempted to control,-but they were the only feelings she was at liberty to gratify: she was formed to love, and be loved in return, but both the law and her religion forbade the indulgence of an honest affection.

Such was the youthful queen of Egypt when she ascended the throne of her father, not as sole mistress, but enjoying a divided empire, and coupled, too, with a condition, that of her marriage with her brother, who was still younger than herself,-from which she revolted, less from principle, indeed, than for the reason that its fulfilment was abhorrent to her inclinations. A mutual dislike seems to have been early formed between them; and the flame was industriously fanned by the designing counsellors and favorites of young Ptolemy. Not less ambitious than his sister and wife, but her inferior in talents, in accomplishments, and in every attribute necessary to maintain the dignity appropriate to his position, he was but the tool and creature of abler and more designing

men.

The strong aversion conceived for each other by the royal pair was soon changed to the most rancorous hate. The Egyptian people were by no means favorable to the rule of a female sovereign, and this na tional prejudice contributed a great deal to strengthen the influence of the king's advisers. While the joint power remained in the hands of Cleopatra, they could do nothing,-she was too intelligent to be a dupe, too ambitious to acknowledge a superior,—and, therefore,

it became their aim and object to deprive her of her share in the sovereignty. Their plans, for the time, were successful. Acting under the advice of Photinus, his tutor, of Achillas, the general of his army, and Theodotus, the rhetorician, Ptolemy refused to allow her to participate in the administration of the government.

It was not in the nature of Cleopatra to submit to so great an indignity. She claimed her rights, with a boldness and spirit which, among any other people, would have aroused a general and irrepressible feeling of enthusiasm in her favor; but the prejudices of the populace were stimulated and aroused by the artful ministers, and they, too, joined in the cry against her. Too proud to compromise her dignity, by a surrender of her authority, she was nevertheless forced to vield to the tide of popular fury. But the heroic heart that beat in her bosom was unsubdued. Obliged to fly from Egypt, she hastened to Palestine and Syria, to collect an army that might enable her to recover the heritage of which she had been deprived.

Just at this juncture, the fate of Rome and of the world was decided on the plains of Pharsalia. Pompey fled to Egypt, but was treacherously murdered by the cruel Ptolemy and his ministers. The victorious Cæsar followed close upon his track, with an army too small for conquest, but having in its leader a host. He was then at the zenith of his power, and brave men trembled when his name was uttered. The murder of his great enemy did not secure his friendship, as the counsellors of Ptolemy had anticipated: he

treated them with coldness, and demanded the prompt payment of a sum of money due him from Auletes.

Anarchy now reigned in Egypt. Altercations and disputes between the respective adherents of Cleopatra and her brother were of daily occurrence. Assassinations were frequent; violence usurped the place of justice; and crime went unpunished. While this state of things existed, Cæsar could not expect that his claim would be satisfied; for the turbulent state of the country afforded abundant excuses, or pretences, for postponing its consideration, or evading it altogether. Accordingly, it was his policy to promote the early restoration of order and quiet, and to that end he proposed, as the representative of the Roman Senate and nation, to hear and determine the dispute between Cleopatra and her brother.

In the mean time, the fair refugee had nearly completed her preparations, and was about to return to Egypt to maintain her right to the throne by force of Having received the summons of Cæsar to appoint some person to plead her cause before him, she determined to obey it, but to be her own advocate; and fearing that the arbiter might be prejudiced against her by Ptolemy and his ministers, she resolved to seek a private interview with him, without delay.

Lest her approach should be suspected, and means be taken to prevent any communication with the Roman general, she sailed from Syria in a frail skiff, attended but by a single friend, Apollodorus, a Sicilian Greek. Cæsar himself had not dared to venture out

to sea, on account of the prevalence of the fierce Etesian winds; but nothing daunted her buoyant soul. It was a high stake in peril-her crown and kingdom -everything to her. Each moment was pregnant with danger, and the dark waters of the Mediterranean frowned gloomily upon her; yet she knew not what it was to fear, for wind and wave seemed but to throb in unison with the wild, fierce passions that sustained her.

Arrived off the harbor of Alexandria, she found that it would be impossible to effect a landing in safety, and to avoid the spies and elude the vigilance of Photinus and Achillas, except by stratagem. Her woman's wit and cunning now served her well. Having procured some cloths and other fabrics, such as were brought for sale by foreign merchants, she spread them out, and laid herself at full length upon them. Following her directions, her faithful attendant Apollodorus wound them about her person, and then tied the bundle with a thong in the same manner as packages of goods were secured.

Thus hidden from all stranger eyes, she was conveyed in the dusk of evening to the quarters of the Roman commander; her companion sustaining, for the nonce, the character of a merchant, and bearing the load of beauty on his shoulders as if it were but common merchandize. In answer to all inquiries, he said he bore a present for Cæsar. That was true, though not in the sense in which he was understood; but the reply was sufficient, and he pursued his way unmolested, through crowds of citizens and soldiers,