by Pat Brown
When Octavian’s man Proculeius was sent to capture Cleopatra, he likely just put a ladder up to the window. Now it is possible, if the building was still under construction, that he came up through some scaffolding. No doubt he came with a swarm of men to capture Cleopatra alive and to stop her from setting any fires that might destroy her considerable treasure. Clearly, no fire was ever set, so there was likely no treasure there to burn up (she had probably already removed it from Alexandria). The queen was trapped, her last hope of escape extinguished.
I sat in a chair in front of a shabby little café on the Corniche. I remembered my visit to the temple at Dendera, and how I looked up at the ceiling with its soaring columns embracing the roof and I wondered how it would feel to be Cleopatra standing among all that magnificence and knowing that such grandeur was something I actually lived, that the whole of the country saw me as more than a mortal, saw me as a goddess, saw me as a savior. Then, as I had walked deeper and deeper into the Dendera temple, I could feel a sense of isolation. Is that how Cleopatra felt when all the splendor was to be taken from her, cutting her down to size, to that of a simple human being? The crushing weight of defeat and despair that must have pressed down upon Cleopatra as she sat next to the body of her husband and the huddled forms of her crying children must have been unbearable. Perhaps, in an odd twist of fate, the grandeur of the temple that surrounded her and once made her feel superior now made her feel small, weak, and insignificant.
Or possibly the coolness of the stones around her shot their chill into her heart, freezing the blood in her veins, turning her into an ice queen for her last, final stand against Octavian. Of the ancient authors, none painted a particularly emotional scene on the part of Cleopatra, save Plutarch, who described the queen as highly distraught and hysterical, so much so that she inflicted injury upon herself in order to counteract the emotional pain she felt inside.
And when she had thus got him in and laid him down, she rent her garments over him, beat and tore her breasts with her hands, wiped off some of his blood upon her face, and called him master, husband, and imperator. . . .
[H]er breasts were wounded and inflamed by the blows she gave them. Because of her grief and pain—for her chest was inflamed and lacerated where she had beaten it.1
Even at a time when her world collapsed around her and hope had been extinguished, would Cleopatra fall apart, or would she hold herself together, carrying her pharaonic superiority and pride to the bitter end? I believe that Cleopatra’s high level of narcissism would not have allowed the world to see her shaken or crying or humbled. I find Plutarch’s description of Cleopatra’s behavior unseemly for such a queen; that she would abuse herself in such a fashion was more likely a dramatic story than a reality.
Two issues must be examined concerning Cleopatra’s self-abuse: how common was it for the women in the ancient world, specifically Egypt and Greece, who lost their husbands to injure themselves physically in their grief? And, second, was Cleopatra the type of woman to do so?
There are quite a number of writings, including the Bible, which cite woman and men beating themselves upon their breasts as a sign of mourning.2 Hairpulling and wailing were common as well. Mourning was to be a public display, though, showing others the importance of the person who died and the level of grief those remaining felt for the loss of their loved one. Much of the mourning process was communal and served as a group bonding experience.
Sometimes the act was more of a political statement, and professional mourners were hired to add to the numbers of bereaved, thus raising the importance of the deceased. How often the phrase “beating one’s breast” actually meant inflicting damage is questionable because little was written about resulting injuries. Therefore, “beating one’s breast” is most often construed as a public display, rather than actual self-abuse.
Beating of the breast is primarily an Eastern mourning activity and is a common form of expression in Greece and Egypt. Ancient Egyptian tombs even show art depicting women beating on their breasts in front of mummies, with one such work showing blood dripping from a woman’s breast onto the body of the deceased.3
Therefore, Plutarch’s story of Cleopatra grieving in such a fashion was not at all beyond reason.
However, was it probable? There is no evidence in Cleopatra’s past behavior that she was prone to histrionics. When Julius Caesar was murdered, there was no mention of Cleopatra abusing herself. When Cleopatra and Antony barely escaped with their lives from Actium, it was Antony who fell into a depression and mistreated himself physically with alcohol. Cleopatra always held her head high and pressed on.
There are two reasons for “beating one’s breast” after the death of someone important. First, it would be the public display to generate communal cohesiveness and a political show. Antony’s death occurred at a time and place where a display of extreme grief by Cleopatra would serve no purpose to the community. No one except her children, maidservants, and a contingent of guards would have witnessed such an act and, therefore, the “breast beating” would serve no purpose in any communal or political sense.
Second, such a show would be commensurate with the depth of emotion one would feel for the loss of a loved one. Since Cleopatra spent little time with Antony in their last year together and not even all that much in the many years prior, nor did she seem to express much passion for him, it is difficult to believe that this man—who had just failed her yet again, and who likely cost Cleopatra both her life and her sovereignty—was going to awaken much anguish in her. The only anguish Cleopatra likely felt was for the tragic failure of her attempt to save herself, her children, and Egypt. While she might be terribly upset at the turn of events, because the practice of breast beating is a public mourning ritual for the dead, she would not likely have engaged in such abuse as a personal reaction to bad news.
One also wonders if the reports of such public displays ever offered any proof of the level of harm the women did to themselves; I could find none. I conducted role-play to put myself through an experience of the sort to see what it felt like, physically and emotionally. Role-play is an important part of crime reconstruction. How will we be able to determine if some behavior could truly be an element of a crime if we are not sure it is even possible or plausible? My role-play educated me quite a bit. I found that pummeling one’s breasts is incredibly awkward and required a wide arc of one’s fists with quite a bit of force in order to actually land a solid blow that causes pain and bruising. Because it requires much energy and a feeling of foolishness ensues quite quickly, I concluded that one would indeed have to be experiencing hysterical grief to keep up such a ridiculous activity or one must be earning a tidy sum for the performance.
Actual laceration of the breasts in order to draw blood is even more difficult. This requires first tearing away of all the outer clothing and then clawing with great pressure to even get a good scratch—and then one must be standing in public half-naked. All in all, in a crazed emotional haze, it would be far easier to abuse one’s face and rip one’s hair out. It occurred to me that supposed public displays of grieving for a dead ruler or important relative may be more a mock attack on oneself with a great deal of screaming and crying to make the assault seem agonizing. Since oftentimes this was paid work, it would behoove the actresses to put on a good show but not cause serious damage to themselves; to do otherwise would rather make the earnings not worth the effort.
Another proof that Cleopatra did not abuse herself is actually contained within a contradiction just paragraphs away in Plutarch’s rendition of events when, according to his account, Octavian sends his man Proculeius to capture Cleopatra before she can set fire to the treasure. While I will discuss the matter of how Cleopatra ended up in the hands of Octavian a bit later in the analysis, it is first important to establish that Cleopatra did no harm to herself. Plutarch writes of when Proculeius slipped into the “mausoleum” and came up behind Cleopatra,
. . . whereupon the queen turned about,
saw Proculeius, and tried to stab herself; for she had at her girdle a dagger such as robbers wear. But Proculeius ran swiftly to her, threw both his arms about her, and said:
“O Cleopatra, thou art wronging both thyself and [Octavian], by trying to rob him of an opportunity to show great kindness, and by fixing upon the gentlest of commanders the stigma of faithlessness and implacability.”
At the same time he took away her weapon, and shook out her clothing, to see whether she was concealing any poison. And there was also sent from [Octavian] one of his freedmen, Epaphroditus, with injunctions to keep the queen alive by the strictest vigilance, but otherwise to make any concession that would promote her ease and pleasure.4
Would not Proculeius, in seeing a bloodied Cleopatra, knife in hand, already believe she had stabbed herself? Would he not check for such wounds? Would he, if he wanted her to stay alive, not inform Caesar immediately that she was suffering from bruises and gashes on her breast from her own abuse? Yet he apparently notices none of these things, nor does he call for medical assistance. He also never notes that she has exposed either of her breasts for examination. It is only later that the issue of these supposed injuries to Cleopatra’s breast arises again. This glaring omission could simply be an oversight by Plutarch, or it could be a story of self-abuse later fabricated as an explanation for the injuries Cleopatra exhibits after being in Octavian’s custody. The next part of the story concerning Cleopatra’s capture and incarceration suggests that the injuries were sustained after she was put under his guard.
After a few days [Octavian] himself came to talk with her and give her comfort. She was lying on a mean pallet-bed, clad only in her tunic, but sprang up as he entered and threw herself at his feet; her hair and face were in terrible disarray, her voice trembled, and her eyes were sunken. There were also visible many marks of the cruel blows upon her bosom; in a word, her body seemed to be no better off than her spirit.5
We must return to Cleopatra’s state of mind and her choice of strategy at this dire moment when we examine how she came under Octavian’s control and what transpired between them. Once it was clear to Octavian that Antony was dead, for he had received the proof by Dercetaeus’s delivery of Antony’s sword, Plutarch writes:
After this, he sent Proculeius, bidding him, if possible, above all things to get Cleopatra into his power alive; for he was fearful about the treasures in her funeral pyre, and he thought it would add greatly to the glory of his triumph if she were led in the procession. Into the hands of Proculeius, however, Cleopatra would not put herself; but she conferred with him after he had come close to the tomb and stationed himself outside at a door which was on a level with the ground. The door was strongly fastened with bolts and bars, but allowed a passage for the voice. So they conversed, Cleopatra asking that her children might have the kingdom, and Proculeius bidding her be of good cheer and trust Caesar in everything.
After Proculeius had surveyed the place, he brought back word to Caesar, and Gallus was sent to have another interview with the queen; and coming up to the door he purposely prolonged the conversation. Meanwhile Proculeius applied a ladder and went in through the window by which the women had taken Antony inside. Then he went down at once to the very door at which Cleopatra was standing and listening to Gallus, and he had two servants with him. One of the women imprisoned with Cleopatra cried out,
“Wretched Cleopatra, thou art taken alive.”6
And Cassius Dio, the only other ancient historian to write of this event, says:
And so Antony died there in the embrace of Cleopatra; she felt confident about Octavian and made it clear to him right away what had happened, but she did not completely trust that she would suffer no harm. Therefore, she remained inside so that, even if nothing else should save her, she could obtain amnesty and her kingdom by exploiting Octavian’s fear of losing her treasure. Even then, amid such calamity, she was so mindful of her sovereignty that she preferred to die with her name and status intact rather than to live as a private citizen. To be sure, she also had fire for her treasure and for herself asps and other reptiles, which she had tested on men to determine how each of them killed. Octavian was eager to control her treasury and to take her alive and lead her in his triumph, but having given her, in some sense, his word, he did not want to seem to have her as a prisoner taken against her will. So, he sent to her Gaius Proculeius, an equestrian, and Epaphroditus, a freedman, with instructions detailing what should be said and done. They met with Cleopatra and, while discussing some reasonable options, suddenly grabbed her before completing the negotiation.7
The ancient authors tell a very odd story of Cleopatra’s lockdown in the “mausoleum,” or temple, as I have determined. Let’s pretend for a moment that the story is true, that Cleopatra did indeed plan to destroy her treasure in desperation.
A fire is not an instantaneous affair. It requires quite a bit of work to start it, stoke it, and build it up to an all-consuming furnace that would have the power to destroy such a quantity of goods as the Egyptian royal treasury is described to have contained. Are we to believe that Cleopatra and her ladies stayed alone in this massive edifice with a mountain of treasure amid the logs and pitch with no one else to assist them in putting this plan into action? We are speaking of the queen of Egypt, who had gone into battle with men and always had her guards and protectors at her disposal. Would not then Cleopatra bring a contingent of men with her into the temple to guard her and to fight anyone who attempted to enter? Wouldn’t she, if she were truly planning to set a fire, set her men to build and tend the blaze? Are we to believe she was so foolish and impotent a queen that she must manage it herself with just a couple of middle-aged women to assist her in such a monumental task? Would she simply stand by the door and trade foolish talk with Octavian’s men, handmaidens listening at her side, while knowing that at any time his army could attack and be inside the building within minutes? All of this seems highly unlikely.
Neither would Octavian waste time with negotiations if he believed the coveted Lagide treasure might be inside the temple. Once he was able to move on the city with the knowledge that Antony was dead and the enemy had surrendered, it would not be long before his men would be at the temple to storm it and capture both Cleopatra and her treasure. Wasting time in foolish negotiations would only delay his attempt to protect and seize the treasure and capture Cleopatra alive. If by this point he realized that no treasure was in the temple, he would still want to move just as quickly to take Cleopatra, and all others who might have vital information, into his custody. He was also eager to find Caesarion and, and as part of his plan to destroy the Egyptian royal line, eliminate him.
Large as the temple was, it was sensible that Cleopatra and her personal guard would move into the depth of the temple while her men attempted to prevent Octavian’s soldiers from entering. This would prevent her death in the assault and allow her the opportunity to set the stage for the moment when she would come face to face with her enemy.
Inevitably, Cleopatra would lose this standoff. Once she had lost control of the temple and had been captured by the forces of Octavian, where would he keep her sequestered? There are two stories concerning this matter:
From Plutarch we have a piece of the story with information that appears to be missing. First, in the passage that follows, he writes of the moment when Proculeius took the dagger from Cleopatra’s possession in the mausoleum (as he has stated earlier, this is where she had hidden herself).
And there was also sent from [Octavian] one of his freedmen, Epaphroditus, with injunctions to keep the queen alive by the strictest vigilance, but otherwise to make any concession that would promote her ease and pleasure.8
Yet later Plutarch writes:
[Octavian] had resolved to send off her and her children within three days. After Cleopatra had heard this, in the first place, she begged [Octavian] that she might be permitted to pour libations for Antony; and when the request was granted, she had herself carried to the t
omb, and embracing the urn which held his ashes, in company with the women usually about her . . .9
Plutarch does not tell us where Cleopatra is but says she must be carried to the mausoleum. But surely she cannot be in the mausoleum, or this transport would not be necessary. Plutarch fails to include in his tale any information about what transpired between the time Epaphroditus is sent to watch Cleopatra and allow anything she would like for her comfort (in the mausoleum) to the point in the story when she is obviously returning to the mausoleum. Either she was actually in the temple or palace where she was confined for a period and then brought to the mausoleum, or she was in the mausoleum, brought elsewhere, and then returned.
Ancient Roman historian Florus explains:
When she despaired of convincing the Princeps [Octavian] and realized that she was spared only for display in his triumph, she took advantage of a rather lax guard and escaped to the mausoleum (this is what they call the royal tomb).10
Cassius Dio goes further in describing her captivity:
Then they took her to the palace, but did not remove any of her accustomed retinue or attendants, in order that she should entertain more hope than ever of accomplishing all she desired, and so should do no harm to herself.11