showed little regard to his remonstrances, excusing himself on account of the low state of his finances since the revolution. He gave him, indeed, to understand that he despaired of satisfying him, unless he would consent to take upon him the care of his revenues, by which means he might reimburse himself by occasional small sums with his own hands. The unfortunate creditor accepted the offer, for fear of losing the amount for which he was himself indebted to others; but the wicked Auletes soon after, upon some frivolous pretence, ordered him and his servants to be imprisoned. This shameful treatment exasperated Pompey as much as Rabirius; the former having been, in some measure, security for the debt, inasmuch as the money was lent at his request, and the whole business transacted by him at a country house of his own near Alba. But Rabirius found means to escape from prison; and, as he had reason to fear the worst from so cruel and faithless a prince, he was well pleased to be able to flee from Egypt without further molestation. To complete his disgrace, he was prosecuted as soon as he returned to Rome, for having aided Auletes in corrupting the senate, by his gold; for having dishonoured the character of a Roman knight, by farming the revenues, and becoming the servant of a foreign prince; and for having been an accomplice with Gabinius, and sharing with him the ten thousand talents which the proconsul had received for his Egyptian expedition. Rabirius appears to have been acquitted; and the eloquent oration of Cicero in his defence, which is still extant, will be a lasting monument of the treachery and ingratitude of Auletes.

Notwithstanding the unheard-of tyranny with which Auletes harassed his subjects, he died, B. c. 51, in the peaceable possession of his kingdom, about four years after his re-establishment, and thirty after he had first ascended the throne. He left two sons and two daughters. He bequeathed his crown to his eldest son and daughter, ordering them to be joined in marriage, according to the vile and scandalous custom of their family, and to govern with equal power. These being both under age, (the daughter, who was the elder, was seventeen years old only,) he left them under the tuition of the Roman people, whom he conjured by all his idol gods, and his allegiance with Rome, to take care that his will was duly executed. Eutropius tells us, that, a copy of his will being transmitted to Rome, Pompey was appointed the guardian of the young prince. Both the sons were called Ptolemy; the daughters' names were Cleopatra and Arsinoe. This was

the Cleopatra whose history is so conspicuous, or rather so infamous, in the ancient records, and which is related in the succeeding pages.

PTOLEMY, CLEOPATRA.

Little is known of the beginning of the reign of Cleopatra and her brother. The first act recorded of her is, that, two of the sons of Bibulus, who had been consul with Julius Cesar, and was at this time, B. c. 48, proconsul of Syria, being killed in Alexandria by the Roman soldiers, whom Gabinius had left to guard Auletes, Cleopatra sent the murderers to Bibulus that he might punish them as he thought fit; but the proconsul sent them back with this message, that their punishment belonged not to him, but to the senate of Rome.

As Ptolemy was a minor, under the tuition of Pothinas a eunuch, and Achillas, general of his army, these two ministers, to engross the whole power to themselves, deprived Cleopatra of the share in the sovereignty left her by the will of Auletes. Cleopatra, thus injured, retired into Syria, and raised in that country, and in Palestine, a very considerable army, in order to assert her rights by force of arms. other hand, Ptolemy, having drawn together all the forces he could, took the field, and marched against his sister. Both armies encamped between Pelusium and Mount Casius, observing the motions of each other, neither of them being inclined to venture an engagement.

On the

It was at this juncture that Pompey, after having lost the battle of Pharsalia, fled to Egypt, conceiving that he should find there an asylum in his misfortunes. He had been, as narrated, the protector of Auletes, the father of the reigning king; and it was solely to Pompey's influence, that he was indebted for his re-establishment: and therefore it might have been expected that gratitude would have taught the king to receive him with open arms. But gratitude was a virtue unknown to most princes and ministers at this date, as Pompey found by experience. The unfortunate Roman, observing from the sea a great army encamped on the shore, concluded from thence, that the king was at war with his sister, and that, in such a conjuncture, he should find the young prince the more ready to protect him, since he might stand in need of his assistance; he therefore sent some of his friends to acquaint the king with his arrival, and to demand permission to land and enter his kingdom.

VOL. I.

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Ptolemy himself returned no answer to Pompey's request; but Pothinas and Achillas, the two reigning ministers, with Theodotus the rhetorician, the young king's preceptor, and some others, consulted together what answer to return. This council differed in opinion; some were for receiving him, others for sending him word to seek a retreat elsewhere. Theodotus opposed both these propositions, and, displaying all his eloquence, undertook to demonstrate that there was no other choice to be made, than that of ridding themselves of him. His reasons were, because, if they protected him, Cesar would not fail to be revenged on them for abetting his enemy; and, if they refused to receive him, and affairs should take a turn in his favour, he would without doubt make them pay dear for their refusal; and therefore, the only safe way to guard against both these evils, was to put him to death, which, said he, will gain us the friendship of Cesar, and prevent the other from doing us mischief; for, according to the ancient proverb, "Dead men do not bite."

Some writers tell us, that Theodotus maintained this cruel paradox only to display his eloquence and talents. But, be this as it may, it had a fatal effect. The advice prevailed, as being in their opinion the wisest and safest course to pursue; and Achillas Septimius, a Roman officer in the service of the king of Egypt, and some others, were charged with putting it into execution. They went to take Pompey on board a shallop, under the pretext that large vessels could not approach the shore without difficulty. The troops were drawn up at the seaside, as with design to do honour to Pompey, Ptolemy being at their head. The perfidious Septimius tendered his hand to Pompey in the name of his master, and bade him come to a king, his friend, whom he ought to regard as his ward and son. Pompey then embraced his wife Cornelia, who wept over him as one lost to her; and, after having repeated some lines of Sophocles, to the effect that แ every man who enters the court of a tyrant becomes his slave, though free before," he went into the shallop. The tragedy soon followed. When they saw themselves near the shore, they stabbed Pompey before the king's eyes, cut off his head, and threw his body upon the strand, where it had no other funeral than one of his freed-men could give it, with the assistance of an old Roman, who was accidentally passing that way. They raised him a wretched funeral pile, and for that purpose made use of some fragments of an old wreck that had been driven ashore. Lucan, in his Pharsalia, re

lates, that the freed-man, whom he immortalizes under the name of Cordus, erected a stone over the spot where he buried him, with this inscription,

“BENEATH THIS STONE, THE ONCE GREAT POMPEY LIES;" than which nothing can be more emphatic, or better show the vanity of human greatness. The name of Pompey had filled the world with alarms; but beneath that stone he lay silently, not even striking terror into the worms that devoured his mortal frame. A Christian poet thus moralizes on his fall:

"The dust of heroes cast abroad,

And kick'd and trampled in the road
The relics of a lofty mind

That lately wars and crowns designed,
Tossed for a jest from wind to wind,
Bid me be humble, and forbear
Tall monuments of fame to rear-
They are but castles in the air.
The towering heights and frightful falls,
The ruined heaps and funerals
Of smoking kingdoms and their kings,
Tell me a thousand mournful things
In melancholy silence-

He,

That living could not bear to see
An equal, now lies torn and dead-

Here his pale trunk, and there his head.

Great Pompey! while I meditate,

With solemn horror, thy sad fate,

Thy carcass scattered on the shore
Without a name, instructs me more

Than my whole library before."-DR. WATTS.

Cornelia witnessed the death of Pompey; and it is easier to imagine the condition of a woman, in the height of her grief from so tragical an occurrence, than to describe it. Those who were in the galley with her, and in two other ships in company with it, made the coast resound with the cries they raised, and, weighing anchor immediately, set sail, and prevented the Egyptians, who were preparing to chase them, from pursuing this design.

In the mean time, Julius Cesar, being informed that Pompey had steered his course towards Egypt, pursued him thither; and he arrived at Alexandria just as the news of his death was brought to that city. Theodotus, or, as others say, Achillas, believing he should do him a pleasure, presented him the head of that illustrious fugitive. But Cesar, though