Cleopatra the Great

by Joann Fletcher

  By the summer of 49 BC, the power balance in Egypt had shifted yet again. Cleopatra was no longer co-ruler and had been deposed by her brother’s courtiers, who declared Ptolemy XIII sole monarch. His former nurse Potheinos promoted himself to minister of finance to get his hands on Egypt’s purse-strings. And within a couple of months, the duplicitous Pompeius personally recommended that his remaining colleagues in the Senate should formally thank Ptolemy XIII for his military help and recognise him as Egypt’s sole legitimate ruler.

  Unwanted by the Alexandrians and officially unrecognised by Rome, ‘pharaoh Cleopatra’ was nevertheless still recognised by the Egyptians. After retreating south to her loyal supporters around Thebes and their powerful military commander, Kallimachos, she seems to have travelled across the Eastern Desert to the Red Sea. Leaving Egypt at the beginning of 48 BC, she ‘took up residence in Arabia and Palestine’ where her ability to speak Hebrew and Aramaic helped her plan her strategy. A court was established in Askalon, near Gaza, where she built up an army paid for with coins from the Askalon mint. Her coin portraits show her wearing a characteristic melon hairstyle and diadem and reveal a careworn, rather gaunt face with deep-set eyes, a very aquiline nose, a rounded chin and a bowed lower lip. All these features bore a striking similarity to her father, Auletes, with something of the dynasty’s founder, Ptolemy I; Cleopatra’s masculine-style coin images were purposely designed to show her as a capable successor to such men as she prepared to do battle and retake the throne.

  Caesar likewise had been busy. In order to take the war to Pompeius he sailed east to Greece in January 48 BC to join Antonius, then marched on Pompeius’ base at Dyrrhachium. Although rations ran so low that Caesar’s troops were forced to eat bread made of grass as he led parties of raiders in disguise across the enemy lines, Pompeius failed to follow up his victories in their sporadic encounters. This left Caesar free to face him again.

  At Pharsalus on 9 August, in blazing heat, Caesar prayed to his ancestor Venus, Greek Aphrodite, whose armed image he always wore on a ring. Promising her a great temple if she brought him victory, his rousing battle-cry of ‘Victrix’ carried the day. Although he rode up and down the lines ordering his men to kill as few of the enemy as possible, fifteen thousand of Pompeius’ men still died, with another twenty thousand surrendering and Pompeius himself only just managing to escape.

  As the largest battle ever fought between Romans, Pharsalus was also one of the most decisive in history, making Caesar the master of Rome and gaining him many new ‘friends’. After taking on to his staff two staunch Republicans, Gaius Cassius Longinus and Lucius Junius Brutus, son of Caesar’s long-term mistress Servilia, Caesar went east to Anatolia to find money to pay his victorious troops. In Ephesus, he made a point of leaving Artemis’ rich temple treasury intact and in return received the title ‘Manifest God’, ‘descended from Ares [Roman Mars] and Aphrodite [Venus] and Saviour of Mankind’. Caesar’s progress was reported to Cleopatra down the coast at Askalon, where she no doubt rejoiced at news of Pompeius’ defeat. Caesar’s reaction to divine honours would have given her a real insight into the character of a man happy to exploit a divine persona to further his political ends.

  His desire to emulate his hero Alexander gave them further common ground, and when he travelled on to Troy for another PR opportunity he paid homage to his ancestors the Trojan Prince Aeneas and the goddess Venus. For as he had said himself, his family ‘reckon descent from the goddess Venus’ and ‘can claim both the sanctity of kings who reign supreme among mortals, and the reverence due to gods, who hold even kings in their power’. Echoing Alexander’s own beliefs, this was clearly someone with whom Cleopatra could do business. So she sent him a detailed report of her own situation and told him she was about to take back her throne by force of arms.

  Her brother’s ally, Pompeius, had been defeated. The Nile flood, on which Egyptian agriculture was dependent, had failed again. Since the amount of water was seen as a measure of the gods’ goodwill, the fact that these were the lowest levels ever recorded made great propaganda. The return of Living Isis would restore divine favour. All things considered, it was the perfect time to launch her invasion. She set out at the head of her army on the six-day march south to the Egyptian border.

  Ptolemy’s advisers Potheinos and Theodotus encouraged the fourteen-year-old pharaoh to go to meet her, dressed in his golden armour and military cloak woven with the images of gods and ancestors. He was accompanied by his general Achillas and the Gabiniani among a force of twenty thousand men. After arriving at Mount Kasios, some 30 miles east of Pelusium, Ptolemy’s army set up camp on the sandy mounds to await Cleopatra. Then, as sister and brother finally faced each other on 28 September 48 BC and prepared for hostilities, a small flotilla of Roman ships appeared off the coast, carrying the defeated general Pompeius, his wife Cornelia, their youngest son and two thousand men who had remained loyal. True to form, a cash-strapped Pompeius had returned to his usual source, seeking help from his ally Ptolemy XIII of Egypt.

  His arrival was greeted with little enthusiasm. Not only were the royal coffers close to empty, but Ptolemy’s advisers had no desire to be placed at a disadvantage with the victorious Caesar, already in the east. And there was always the real possibility that the Gabiniani troops might go over to their former general and weaken Ptolemy’s forces against Cleopatra. Deciding that ‘a dead man cannot bite’, Potheinos and Theodotus agreed that Pompeius’ elimination would placate his enemy Caesar, who would then return to Rome, grateful to the Egyptian king, who would be allowed to remain in power.

  So as Pompeius’ ship pulled close to land, Ptolemy XIII granted his formal request to land and waited in full military regalia, watching as Achillas and two Roman officers of the Gabiniani were sent over to row him ashore. As he climbed down into their boat, Pompeius recognised one of the officers as having served under him — although his greetings were cut short when the same man stabbed him in the back. Ptolemy then ordered that Pompeius should be beheaded, his body cremated on the beach and his severed head embalmed to preserve it. After seizing most of Pompeius’ fleet, Achillas remained with the troops in Pelusium to keep Cleopatra at bay while Ptolemy returned to Alexandria with Pompeius’ head to await Caesar’s arrival.

  They did not have long to wait. Just a few days later the general, distinctive in his purple cloak, arrived off the coast of Alexandria with a small fleet and a modest force of four thousand. Hoping to catch up with the defeated Pompeius and extend his famous clemency, Caesar too needed money, claiming that Auletes’ heirs still owed him 6000 talents. In an attempt to discourage him from landing, Theodotus sailed out to meet him with Pompeius’ head as a gift — the presentation of a relative’s body parts to make a political point had long been part of the Ptolemies’ modus operandi. But Caesar was appalled. Although he later wrote with characteristic detachment that ‘he learns of the death of Pompeius’, he was seen to be so overcome with grief at the time that he wept openly, for, regardless of recent battles, the severed head before him belonged to his son-in-law and the father of his short-lived grandchild. His genuine feelings for Pompeius were also revealed by the fact that he took the head from Theodotus and kept it safe until such time as he could give it appropriate burial ashore.

  This was certainly not the reaction Theodotus was expecting. Much to his alarm and that of Potheinos, who was watching closely from the shore, Caesar reverted to his official status and, declaring his intention to carry out his duty as executor of Auletes’ will, proceeded to disembark. Mindful of how this might appear to the famously volatile Alexandrians now lining the harbourside, he decided against a show of force and took only a small group of officers led by the two lictors carrying the fasces, the bundles of axes and reeds that served as traditional symbols of consular office.

  Stirred up by Potheinos, the crowds assumed that Caesar was asserting Rome’s power over their territory and started to grow restless. Then, ‘undaunted, with looks that ever masked his f
ears’, Caesar brazened it out and made for the nearby palace quarter within which lay the fortified Inner Palaces and the home of the monarchs themselves. Stretching for half a mile or so along the breezy seafront, this ‘amazing building complex comprised multiple colonnaded courts of different shapes and dimensions’ that marked the way each generation had added their own personal palace. Passing through its adjoining administrative buildings, Caesar finally reached the guest quarters and took up residence.

  Posing as simply another Roman tourist doing the sights, he nonchalantly viewed the Library and Museum and ‘visited the temples of the gods and the ancient shrines of divinity which attest the former might of Macedonia. No thing of beauty attracted him, neither the gold and ornaments of the gods, nor the city walls; but in eager haste he went down into the vault hewn out for a tomb. There lies the mad son of Macedonian Philip’, this description of Alexander by a Republican sympathizer revealing he was hated almost as much as Caesar for their shared imperial ambitions.

  But Caesar’s real reason for visiting Alexander’s city was to settle the Ptolemies’ dynastic dispute to the best advantage of Rome and himself, so he ordered brother and sister to dismiss their armies and appear before him. Retaining his forces at Pelusium to keep Cleopatra at bay, Ptolemy XIII arrived with the customary pharaonic splendour and accompanied by the ever-present Potheinos. Ptolemy informed the Roman general that his sister had taken power for herself, then raised an army against him, so had forfeited all rights to the throne and left him sole ruler. Caesar then pointed out that any successor of Auletes still owed him 6000 talents, at which point Potheinos, in his role as treasurer, intervened to suggest that Caesar must surely have more pressing business elsewhere. The Roman was unimpressed with Potheinos’ insolence, particularly in light of his role in Pompeius’ murder. Potheinos for his part resented the challenge to his behind-the-scenes authority and made sure the Alexandrians continued their hostility, even ordering royal meals to be served on the poorest-quality tableware to imply that Caesar had stolen all the gold and silver plate.

  Surrounded by the Alexandrians within the confines of the Palace quarter, Caesar then waited for Ptolemy’s former co-ruler. Although she had already written to him, Cleopatra wanted to plead her own case in person. But she realised she would have to take great care if she were to make her way through the city without being recognised and avoid the guards whom Potheinos had stationed all around the palace to prevent her reaching Caesar alive. Yet against overwhelming odds, the twenty-two-year-old managed to pull off one of the most daring wartime missions ever staged, successfully crossing enemy lines with the greatest panache.

  Chapter 4

  A Veiled Proposal: Cleopatra Meets Caesar

  Having dismissed her troops at Pelusium, Cleopatra left camp for Alexandria in the company of a Sicilian courtier named Apollodorus, whose title, ‘Philos’, was the official Macedonian term for a high-ranking confidant. With the presence of her brother’s troops making an approach by land impossible she decided to take to sea, travelling west along the Delta coast towards the Pharos lighthouse. Reaching Alexandria’s Great Harbour under cover of darkness, her small vessel with Apollodorus at the helm attracted little attention. As the boat approached the steps of the royal harbour beside the palace she concealed herself to avoid her brother’s guards.

  According to the famous version of events related by the first-century AD Greek historian Plutarch, Cleopatra ‘was at a loss at how to get in undiscovered’ until she hit upon the idea of stretching herself full-length on a carpet which Apollodorus rolled up, tied and carried in to Caesar. Her ‘piquant wrapper’ has been imagined by some to have been nothing less than a full bale of oriental rugs; other translations have suggested an alternative mode of transport after ‘she thought of putting herself into the coverlet of a bed and lying at length, whilst Apollodorus tied up the bedding and carried it on his back through the gates to Caesar’s apartments’. This has been interpreted as some sort of ‘linen bag of the kind used to carry carpets’ or a ‘bed-linen sack’. Certainly, a brilliantly staged piece of political daring has been reduced to little more than knockabout comedy. Yet it seems somewhat unlikely that a pharaoh of Egypt and living goddess would allow herself to be rolled up, trussed up and manhandled in such a manner, or indeed that the sudden appearance of a late-night carpet salesman touting for business around the palace would fail to raise suspicion from a guard already on high alert.

  It may be that confusion was caused by the way ancient bedlinen doubled as clothing — the Greek word ‘himation’ refers to a piece of material used as a bedsheet, wrapped around the body on waking to form the standard outer garment worn by both sexes throughout the day. In similar fashion, cloaks were often used as blankets and ‘coverlets and bedclothes were considered as clothing by the Romans’ . The scenario of a heavily cloaked Cleopatra would certainly seem to make far more sense in the context of first-century BC Alexandria, where the fashion for heavy drapery would have formed the perfect disguise — particularly since the himation and more tentlike pharos mantle were often used by women to cover the face in public. By no means a recent invention, face veiling dates back thousands of years. Although never used by the ancient Egyptians, it was a widespread custom amongst elite women from Assyria in the east right through to the Greek colonies of Asia Minor and even in Athens. In Cleopatra’s day it was standard practice for Greek women: ‘they wrap their heads in their himatia such that the garment seems to cover the whole face like a little mask; the eyes alone peep out; all the other parts of the face are covered by the mantles’. It was a form of dress imposed by husbands who wanted to hide their possessions from other men; one second-century BC Roman consul even divorced his wife for going outdoors without being fully covered, telling her that ‘by law, only my eyes should see you’.

  Although classical sculpture did not show the face covered either by veils or helmets, both of which were pushed back to reveal the subject’s face, veiling was occasionally represented on a small scale: there are scenes on Greek vases showing women with their himatia pulled over their faces as they dance before their menfolk and the deities Dionysos and Artemis. The face veil also appears on small-scale sculpture, the most accomplished example being a bronze figurine from Alexandria of such quality that she may well have been one of the royal favourites or ‘minor wives’ passing through the palace en route to the king. With only her painted, elongated eyes visible, she is completely swathed in her sheetlike mantle. The outline of her hair is pulled back into a bun just visible through ample drapery which makes her body appear ‘fluid and like a whirlwind’, recalling the way the sea breezes caused the mantles of Alexandria’s ladies to blow about them like the billowing mantle of Isis Pharia, whose colossus stood guard close to the palace.

  It is therefore quite intriguing to imagine a similarly clad Cleopatra on her daring mission to reach Caesar, silently moving through the harbour’s dark waters beneath the towering figure of her alter ego. As her boat reached the seaward side of the palace she must have pulled her dark mantle tight about her, concealing her well-known face as she followed Apollodorus swiftly up the white stone steps and across the limestone esplanade before disappearing into the shadows. They would have entered by one of the palace entrances no doubt used by the steady stream of favoured female courtiers on their visits to successive kings. It has reasonably been suggested that, should the need have arisen, Latin-speaking Apollodorus would have been able to communicate with any Roman guards they encountered — either Ptolemy’s Gabiniani or Caesar’s personal bodyguards — allowing his royal charge to pass unhindered through the passages of the labyrinthine palace she knew so well.

  Slipping into Caesar’s quarters, Cleopatra then famously revealed herself. But, rather than springing unceremoniously out of an unrolled carpet, dizzy and unkempt, it is far more likely that she simply pulled back her heavy dark mantle to reveal her face in a gesture recalling the way gods’ statues were concealed from profane eyes
within temples. For even the Romans knew that in Egypt the sacred inscription accompanying the bejewelled statue of Isis stated, ‘I am that which is, which hath been, and which shall be, and none have ever lifted the veil that hides my Divinity from mortal eyes.’

  As Living Isis now revealed her own divinity before Caesar’s eyes, her appearance as the many-named goddess brought together multiple strands of mythology in a superbly stage-managed event, laden with meaning and innuendo which only the limits of Caesar’s intellect would prevent him from understanding. Veiling had been a key part of marriage ceremonies dating back to at least the sixth century BC, and the unveiling of a bride by her husband in both Greek and Roman ceremonies signified the surrender of her virginity to him. Since the concept of a woman unveiling herself in front of a man whom she did not know was completely alien within these cultures, Cleopatra’s highly suggestive gesture may therefore have been an invitation to some sort of union or alliance.

  Her unveiling must also have revealed inner clothing made of the ultra-fine linen that the Ptolemies so favoured, from Arsinoe IFs gauzy veils to the transparent robes of Physkon whose visibly obese physique had so horrified his Roman guests. Yet as Cleopatra’s ‘white breasts were revealed by the fabric of Sidon,’ a popular tale of the time described how its hero ‘could see her whole body in it, and her desire grew even greater than it had been before’ — feelings no doubt shared by the Roman who stood before her.

  Cleopatra certainly seems to have been deeply attractive to Caesar, despite current notions that she was no great beauty, based on interpretations of coin images whose masculine-type features were deliberately exaggerated to compete with those of male rivals. A form of propaganda also employed by her female predecessors Hatshepsut, Nefertiti and Cleopatra III, the masculine-type portraits of the seventh Cleopatra have nevertheless been added to the ambiguous statement that ‘her beauty was not in and for itself incomparable’. This has been taken to mean that she simply was not beautiful, rather than that there were other women whose beauty could compare with hers. But the same ancient source clearly states that Cleopatra was able to rely on ‘the power of her beauty’ while another clearly admits she ‘was a woman of surpassing beauty, and at that time, when she was in the prime of her youth, she was most striking. Being brilliant to look upon and to listen to, with the power to subjugate every one, even a love-sated man already past his prime, she thought that it would be in keeping with her role to meet Caesar, and she reposed in her beauty all her claims to the throne’.