For nearly a century Egypt had been impossible to govern. Restless, corrupt, sanguinary, it had become a prey to the various pretenders to the throne. To hold it together in any way, to utilize the magnificent resources of its rich soil, to get rid of the bands of pirates, deserters, and outlaws which made up the larger part of its army, required a stronger power than the Lagidæ possessed. Too indolent to make any exertion, these dilettante sovereigns had formed the habit of appealing to Rome for aid whenever a new insurrection broke out. Ptolemy the Piper, Cleopatra's father, had only been able to secure his crown by bribing the Roman Senators; and as to Cleopatra, we know what means she had used to regain her sceptre! If the peace that she had restored seemed desirable, if she had been given credit for the temporary prosperity of the country, there was also much discontent that these things had been accomplished at the price of a scandal, and by an alliance which, at any time, might change the ruling power and put it in foreign hands. Feeling herself deserted, surrounded by opposition, by plots, deprived of the troops, which, owing to military reasons, had been removed to other parts, the Queen had days of deep depression. She was overwhelmed by her responsibilities, especially when her ministers came with various accounts: of a pest so terrible that the embalmers were unable to care for the bodies of the dead; with sickening tales of the corpses which lined the public highways; again of famine, which for two successive seasons had ravished the land; of the wasteful extravagance of dishonest officials in charge of government affairs; of the difficulties of administration which each and every day brought forth. She was weary and often went back in imagination to the days when the passion of a mighty conqueror had taken all care away, and she had only to wave her ivory sceptre to have any desire fulfilled.