the one the first princess and founder of a nation
destined to live in history ages after it had ceased to exist; the other
the last princess of a land equally famed in story, whose kingdom was to
suffer extinction, in a great measure in consequence of her vices--not
because she was too weak to sway the scepter, but because she was too
wicked to rule justly.

The last representative of the dynasty of the Ptolemies, she seemed to
possess an undue share of the evil propensities of an evil race; and,
with this, the gift of rare beauty, added to very winning manners and
remarkable powers of fascination. In her constitution was blended a
dangerous combination of varied charms and varied vices. The learning of
the Egyptian schools she had mastered; there were none of the then
modern accomplishments of which she had not made herself mistress;
wealth and regal honors were hers; and yet what a sad picture she
presents! Evil passions were allowed to rankle in her breast unchecked,
till she became one of the vilest creatures, in a country become the
vilest and basest of nations. The powers of mind with which she was
endowed, used for the benefit of her country, might have been the means
of its salvation; but instead of appealing to the patriotism of her
people--if, indeed, they then possessed any--she chose rather to court
the favor of the rising Roman general, and gain by flattery and crime
what might have been denied to virtue. Though her kingdom was in danger,
and her own position and the inheritance of her children were at stake,
she reveled in sinful pleasure with the enemy. By the power of her
charms, she effected a compromise with the first Caesar, which left her
in possession of Egypt; but not on honorable terms. How could terms,
dictated on the one side and agreed to on the other by base passion, be
aught but shameful and humiliating?

Caesar in the west, and the Roman legions far away, Cleopatra paid no
more regard to the treaty between them than if it had never been made.
Such a violation of contract the Romans never forgave; and Mark Antony,
who had striven to rise to the supreme power after the assassination of
Julius Caesar, as soon as he had leisure from his other ambitious
schemes, bent his steps toward Egypt, to punish the faithless queen.
Again she had recourse to her personal charms. The stern but vicious
general, though in name a conqueror, became an easy victim of her wiles;
and was himself in fact the conque