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- Her family lived in Egypt for three hundred years or so, which might make her Egyptian in your eyes and mine, but to the Egyptians she was still Greek. She was descended from the general Ptolemy who served under Alexander the Great during his conquests.
- The legendary Pharaoh Cleopatra, however, is a most puzzling challenge, her weapons beyond men's cunning. She calls her ways 'femininity-culture-love,' and rare is the soldier who knows how to counter those.
- The Snake Bracelet of Cleopatra is the 39th episode of Legends of the Hidden Temple. It was the 28th episode to air. 1 Moat Crossing 2 Steps of Knowledge 3 Temple Games 3.1 Cleopatra's Needle (Obelisk) 3.2 Great Pyramid (Water Ramp) 3.3 Gifts of Antony (Bungee Soap Line) 4 Temple Run 5 Watch Episode 6 Notes Before each team was a bridge of floating rings. When Kirk gave the signal, the first.
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Cleopatra Egyptian queen, famous in history and drama as the lover of Julius Caesar and later as the wife of Mark Antony. She became queen on the death of her father, Ptolemy XII, in 51 BCE and ruled until 30 BCE, when she and Antony committed suicide after their forces were beaten by the Roman armies of Octavian. Play Legend of Cleopatra slot machine by Playson where 100-lines of action are spread across 6-reels with Wilds, Free Spins and Double Reel Feature.
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Legend Of Cleopatra
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CHAPTER NINE
Cleopatra had a jazz band
In her castle on the Nile
Every night she gave a jazz dance
In her queer Egyptian style …
J. Morgan and J. Casino games with best odds for player. Coogan, ‘Cleopatra Had a Jazz Band'1
Three hundred years after her death, Cleopatra-Isis was still being worshipped at Philae. Her image would remain on Egypt's coins for decades and on her temple walls for thousands of years. But this version of Cleopatra the queen and wise mother goddess was confined to Egypt. In the wider Mediterranean world the well-oiled Roman propaganda machine continued to manipulate public opinion against Cleopatra long after the battle of Actium.
Octavian was determined that his own personal history should be recorded for posterity in a way that justified his not always heroic actions and confirmed his god-given right to rule; a difficult matter for a self-proclaimed republican to explain. To achieve this, he not only published his own autobiography, he edited, and in some cases burned, Rome's official records. Much of his propaganda – the ephemeral jokes, graffiti, pamphlets, private letters and public speeches – has of course been lost. But enough remains to allow us an understanding of the corruption of Cleopatra's memory.
As Cleopatra had played a key role in Octavian's struggle to power, her story was allowed to survive as an integral part of his. But it was to be diminished into just two episodes: her relationship with Julius Caesar and, more particularly, her relationship with Mark Antony. Caesar, the adoptive father who gave Octavian his right to rule, was to be remembered with respect as a brave and upright man who manipulated an immoral foreign woman for his own ends. Antony, Octavian's rival, was to be remembered with a mixture of pity and contempt as a brave but fatally weak man hopelessly ensnared in the coils of an immoral foreign woman. Cleopatra, stripped of any political validity, was to be remembered as that immoral foreign woman. Almost overnight she became the most frightening of Roman stereotypes: an unnatural female. A woman who worshipped crude gods, dominated men, slept with her brothers and gave birth to bastards. A woman foolish enough to think that she might one day rule Rome, and devious enough to lure a decent man away from his hearth and home. This version of Cleopatra is, of course, the precise opposite of the chaste and loyal Roman wife, typified by the wronged Octavia and the virtuous Livia, just as Cleopatra's exotic eastern land is the louche feminine counterpoint to upright, uptight, essentially masculine Rome. As public enemy number one, Cleopatra was extremely useful to Octavian, who not unnaturally preferred to be remembered fighting misguided foreigners rather than decent fellow Romans.
The most vivid near-contemporary interpretation of Cleopatra is a fictional account. When, in 29, Publius Vergilius Maro started work on his twelve-volume Aeneid, he determined to create a modern epic in the style of Homer's Odyssey (Books 16) and Iliad(Books 712) that would both glorify Rome and celebrate Octavian's rule. Aeneas, son of the goddess Venus and founder of Rome, was to be equated with Octavian, descendant of Venus and of Aeneas and founder of the Roman Empire. Underpinning the first part ofThe Aeneid is the tragedy of Dido and Aeneas. The eponymous hero, fleeing by boat from devastated Troy, is desperate to reach his ancestral homeland but runs into a storm and washes ashore on the North African coast. Here he meets Dido, founder and queen of Carthage, who is compelled by the gods to fall in love with him. The two go through a form of marriage, which Dido recognises as legally binding but Aeneas, it soon transpires, does not. Happy in their love for each other, they forget the outside world. But Aeneas is a strong moral character, obedient to the will of the gods. Faced with the choice between pleasure and duty he chooses duty, and deserts the queen:
‘I know, O queen, you can list a multitude of kindnesses you have done me. I shall never deny them and never be sorry to remember Dido while I remember myself, while my spirit still governs this body. Much could be said. I shall say only a little. It was never my intention to be deceitful or run away without your knowing, and do not pretend that it was. Nor have I ever offered you marriage or entered into that contract with you.'2
Furious and despairing, Dido curses her former lover, then commits suicide rather than face life alone.
Parallels with the stories of Julius Caesar (a strong man who put duty above pleasure) and of Antony (a lesser man than Aeneas/Caesar/Octavian who was tempted by a foreign queen and found wanting) are obvious. Dido, a woman who willingly enters into a pseudo-marriage and who is ultimately destroyed by her own guilt, is to be equated with Cleopatra. Virgil is, however, relatively sympathetic to Dido, whose life has been deliberately destroyed by the gods. Less sympathetic to Cleopatra is his anachronistic reference to Aeneas's intricate shield, forged by Vulcan, which features Octavian's victory at the battle of Actium:
On the other side, with the wealth of the barbarian world and warriors in all kinds of different armour, came Antony … With him sailed Egypt and the power of the East from as far as distant Bactria, and there bringing up the rear was the greatest outrage of all, his Egyptian wife! … The queen summoned her warships by rattling her Egyptian timbrels – she was not yet seeing the two snakes there at her back – while Anubis barked and all manner of monstrous gods levelled their weapons at Neptune and Venus and Minerva.3
Faced with such a glorious image, Virgil's readers might perhaps forget just how weak Octavian's military record actually was.
The subversive Augustan poet Sextus Propertius writes longingly of his feisty mistress Cynthia. He, like Mark Antony, has been ensnared and to a certain extent emasculated by a powerful woman, and he is not afraid of admitting it. Answering the question, ‘Why do you wonder if a woman controls my life?' he lists examples of famous, unnaturally dominating women, including the Amazon Penthesilea, Omphale, queen of Lydia, Semiramis and, of course, Cleopatra, ‘the whore queen of Canopus'. Later he provides a somewhat tongue-in-cheek tribute to Octavian and the battle of Actium. Clearly Propertius is aware of the irony of a Roman man celebrating a great victory over a mere woman, but, like Virgil before him, he sensibly sees no need to labour this delicate point.4 In this he is joined by his contemporary Horace, who is happy to reduce Cleopatra to the status of a madwoman drunk on power, yet who also gives a surprisingly sympathetic account of her death: ‘fiercer she was in the death she chose, as though she did not wish to cease being queen'.5 By restoring some of Cleopatra's dignity, Horace actually makes her a more credible and worthy foe for Octavian.
Rome's historians, writing later than the poets, preserve a more rounded impression of Cleopatra. She is seductive and unnatural, yes, but we also catch glimpses of an educated, even intelligent woman. But history, in Rome, was not the strict discipline that it is (or should be) today. Sparse historical ‘facts' were woven into a coherent narrative with large helpings of personal opinion and guesswork. Stories were selected in order to make a moral or political point. And, of course, the Roman historians concentrated on Cleopatra's interaction with the Roman world while ignoring her life in Egypt. The two most influential of Cleopatra's ‘biographers' are Plutarch and Dio; from their works come the Cleopatras described by later classical authors. The Roman writer Suetonius (The Divine Julius and The Divine Augustus) and the somewhat unreliable Alexandrian Greek Appian (The Civil Wars) add further to Cleopatra's tale.
Maestrius Plutarchus (Plutarch), a Greek from Chaironeia in Boeotia, wrote his Parallel Lives in c. AD 100, using the not always successful device of ‘parallels' to allow a comparison between the moral strengths and weaknesses of his Greek and Roman subjects. Among those he studied were Pompey the Great (paired with the Spartan king Agesilaus), Julius Caesar (paired with Alexander the Great) and Mark Antony (paired with Demetrios Poliorcetes of Macedon, son of Antigonos ‘the One-Eyed'). Cleopatra's story was, of necessity, interwoven with theirs. Although it is claimed that Plutarch had access to the memoirs (now lost) of Cleopatra's physician Olympus, and that his grandfather had a friend who knew Cleopatra's cook, his sources remain hidden. His methodology, however, is made clear from the outset:
… it is not histories that I am writing, but lives; and in the most illustrious deeds there is not always a manifestation of virtue or vice, nay, a slight thing like a phrase or a jest often makes a greater revelation of character than battles when thousands fall, or the greatest armaments, or sieges of cities. Accordingly, just as painters get the likenesses in their portraits from the face and the expression of the eyes, wherein the character shows itself, but make very little account of the other parts of the body, so I must be permitted to devote myself rather to the signs of the soul in men, and by means of these to portray the life of each, leaving to others the description of their great contests.6
The Lives were popular with Plutarch's fellow Romans, and popular again in medieval times and the Renaissance, when they inspired a whole host of authors and artists. Plutarch's Cleopatra is a confusing creature; he seems unable to make up his mind whether she is essentially good or essentially bad, although he is certain that she is manipulative, and that she has been the ruin of at least one good Roman.
The Greek historian and Roman senator Cassius Dio Cocceianus wrote his highly readable, action-packed eighty-volume Roman History in the years between AD 200 and 222. He tells us that he spent a decade researching his magnum opus, and that he consulted all the important references. These, most unfortunately, go unnamed, but almost certainly included the works of the historians Livy and Polybius. Cleopatra's story stretches from Book 42 – Julius Caesar in Egypt – to her suicide in Book 51. Dio's Cleopatra is an erotically powerful, manipulative woman with a fatal allure. Naturally, Antony is unable to resist her. The two deaths are followed by a brief but damning character assessment. Antony is a contradiction: brave yet foolish, both generous and harsh, ‘characterised equally by greatness of soul and by servility of mind', while Cleopatra:
… was of insatiable passion and insatiable avarice; she was swayed often by laudable ambition, but overweening effrontery. By love she gained the title Queen of the Egyptians, and when she hoped by the same means to win also that of Queen of the Romans, she failed of this, and lost the other besides. She captivated the two greatest Romans of her day, and because of the third she destroyed herself.7
Plutarch and Dio were non-Roman by birth, yet they were happy to transmit the official Roman worldview. The historian Josephus, or Joseph son of Matthias (c. AD 37–100), had a Jewish education and saw things from a slightly different perspective. Josephus had stood against the Romans in the Jewish–Roman war of AD 66–73. Having failed to commit suicide with his fellow soldiers, he was captured by Vespasian's forces and changed his allegiance. Now a loyal Roman citizen, Titus Flavius Josephus settled in Rome, where, in receipt of generous public funds, he published a series of works, each intent on proving that he was both a good Roman and a good Jew. His two-volume Against Apion was published in response to an anti-Jewish outburst by the Greek grammarian Apion of Alexandria. Book 2 includes a highly idiosyncratic outline of Ptolemaic history that, of course, includes an unflattering portrait of Cleopatra, who, in Josephus's eyes, commits the double offence of being both anti-Roman and anti-Jewish:
… This man [Apion] also makes mention of Cleopatra, the last queen of Alexandria, and abuses us, [the Jews], because she was ungrateful to us; whereas he ought to have reproved her, who indulged herself with all kinds of injustices and wicked practices, both with regard to her nearest relations and husbands who had loved her, and, indeed, in general with regard to all the Romans and those emperors that were her benefactor … she destroyed the gods of her country and the sepulchres of her progenitors, and while she had received her kingdom from the first Caesar, she had the impudence to rebel against his son [Octavian] …8
In AD 640 Egypt fell to the Islamic forces led by the Arab general Amr Ibn-al-As. Almost immediately, Muslim Egypt became isolated from the Christian world. For over a thousand years, until the sixteenth-century Ottoman conquest, western scholars continued to study ancient Egypt second-hand via the only sources available to them: the classical authors and the Bible. Meanwhile, in Egypt, a separate and very different historical tradition was evolving. Medieval Arabic scholars had access to Coptic (Christian), classical, Jewish and Arabic texts, including the Egyptian history written by the seventh-century Coptic Bishop John of Nikiou, which includes a sympathetic account of the good Queen Cleopatra, wife of Julius Caesar.9 Most importantly, they also had first-hand access to the ancient monuments, and to the scholars and storytellers who preserved Egypt's oral heritage. From this invaluable information the Arab historians were able to develop a parallel understanding of Egypt's past which included a very different version of Cleopatra from that recognised in the West. The traveller and historian Al-Masudi (died c. 956) introduces us to the eastern Cleopatra, who variously appears as Qilopatra, Kilapatra or Aklaupatr:
… She was a sage, a philosopher, who elevated the ranks of scholars and enjoyed their company. She also wrote books on medicine, charms and cosmetics in addition to many other books ascribed to her which are known to those who practice medicine.10
This Cleopatra is the ‘virtuous scholar' mentioned in Chapter 1 (pages 32–3): a public benefactor who protects her people and presides over academic seminars, where she displays an impressive knowledge of mathematics, science and philosophy. She is credited with the authorship of a series of books ranging from cosmetics (an important and by no means female-orientated science in Egypt) through gynaecology to coins, weights and measures.
As a detailed account of Cleopatra's reign, the Arab history is in many ways flawed: Bishop John believed, for example, that Cleopatra built both the Heptastadion linking Pharos to the mainland and the canal which brought fresh water to Alexandria; others believed that she built the Pharos lighthouse. But looking beneath these specifics, and allowing for the fact that the historians may well have confused the lives of several Ptolemaic queens, plus other scholarly women, it does confirm that the lingering memory of Cleopatra within Egypt was a positive and appreciative one – a memory which focused on her political and administrative achievements rather than her love life. Unfortunately, the works of the Arabic historians, written in Arabic and until recently not widely available in translation, have been to a large extent overlooked by western Egyptologists.
Meanwhile, in the West, the Roman version of Cleopatra continued to evolve, reflecting contemporary images and ideals of womanhood. She became a beauty rather than a monster and, as beauty was unthinkingly equated with goodness, her story became that of an unconventional life redeemed by loyalty to a man. At the same time, her firm association with a snake led to a hazy identification with the Biblical Eve. The Christian Church, of course, forbade suicide. But in a world accustomed to stories of Christian martyrs finding redemption through suffering and death, Cleopatra's story was an acceptable variant. In 1380 Geoffrey Chaucer included the legend of Cleopatra the martyr in his Legend of Good Women, and her transformation into a virtuous queen who lived only for the love of a man was complete.
Plutarch's Parallel Lives, translated into French by Jacques Amyot (1559), then from the French into English by Sir Thomas North (1579, 1595, 1603), served as the inspiration behind William Shakespeare's Julius Caesar (c. 1600), Antony and Cleopatra (c. 1606) and Coriolanus (c. 1607). The parallels between Plutarch and Antony and Cleopatra are obvious. Plutarch says
Vegas casino with a leprechaun in its logo. …she disdained to set forward otherwise, but to take her barge in the river of Cydnus; the poop whereof was of gold, the sails of purple, and the oars of silver, which kept stroke in rowing after the sound of the music of flutes, howboys, cithernes, viols, and such other instruments as they played upon in the barge. And now for the person of her self, she was laid under a pavilion of cloth of gold of tissue, apparelled and attired like the goddess Venus, commonly drawn in picture: and hard by her, on either hand of her, pretty fair boys apparelled as painters do set forth god Cupid, with little fans in their hands, with the which they fanned wind upon her …
Legend Of Cleopatra
Shakespeare's Domitius Enobarbus says
I will tell you.
The barge she sat in, like a burnished throne,
Burned on the water: the poop was beaten gold;
Purple the sails, and so perfumèd that
The winds were love-sick with them. The oars were silver,
Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made
The water which they beat to follow faster,
As amorous of their strokes. For her own person,
It beggared all description: she did lie
In her pavilion, cloth-of-gold of tissue,
O'erpicturing that Venus where we see
The fancy outwork nature. On each side her
Stood pretty dimpled boys, like smiling cupids,
With divers-coloured fans, whose wind did seem
To glow the delicate cheeks which they did cool,
And what they undid did.11
Placing drama and popular appeal above loyalty to his source, Shakespeare dropped some of Plutarch's disapproval, borrowed slightly from Horace, and allowed his queen to become a genuine heroine ruined by uncontrollable passion. Female rule, in Shakespeare's day, was seen as neither unnatural nor undesirable, and Shakespeare's play, written when memory of the reign of Elizabeth I was still vivid, reflects this. His was by no means the first of the modern Cleopatras, nor would it be the last, but his Cleopatra has had the greatest effect on the public imagination, inspiring a wealth of Cleopatra-themed art: novels, plays, poetry, paintings, sculptures, operas, ballets, songs, tragedies, comedies and epic films. These in turn have inspired a wealth of Egypt-themed marketing, with an anachronistic Cleopatra being used to sell everything from cigarettes to sandals.12
The cultural historian Mary Hamer speaks for many when she tells of her confusion when first faced with a Cleopatra who was not Shakespeare's: ‘I learned to stop using Shakespeare as a norm and to ask what Cleopatra had meant before he wrote.'13 It is more disconcerting to realise that several ‘academic' publications have been unable to cast aside Shakespeare's vision and have been seduced into quoting Shakespeare as if he were a primary historical source.14 To understand that this has happened due to a shortage of contemporary descriptions of Cleopatra is only partially to excuse the offence.
That modern representations of Cleopatra distort history to reflect the prejudices and assumptions of their creators perhaps goes without saying. Some of these distortions are obvious and naïve. Medieval and Renaissance artists, for example, were happy to abandon any attempt at realism and depict Cleopatra as a pale blonde because the pale blonde was their ideal of beauty. Others are more subtle or manipulative. Nineteenth-century artists gave Cleopatra a vaguely Egyptian-oriental appearance, and used her as a metaphor for the penetration and ownership of the (feminine) East by the (masculine) West. In many instances their aggressively seductive Cleopatras appear to invite their own destruction. Twentieth-century film-makers spoke grandly of historical accuracy and serious drama, yet produced a succession of Cleopatras designed to appeal to the audiences whose repeated visits to the cinema would make their films a success.15 Theda Bara's 1917 vampish Cleopatra, much admired in its day, quickly became laughable. The cinematic Cleopatra had to evolve into a woman who would appeal both to the men who had enjoyed Miss Bara's barely-there costumes and to the newly educated, newly enfranchised working women who were now able to pay for their own cinema tickets. Claudette Colbert made a smart, amusing and very modern Cleopatra for the pre-war audience. Elizabeth Taylor, a sultry temptress on screen and off, brought glamour to an austere world and became for many the ‘real' Cleopatra. Doubtless, soon the studios will present us with an updated Cleopatra – an action woman for the twenty-first century. Underlying all these films, hidden beneath the glitter and the wigs, lie issues of censorship and political correctness and disturbing messages about colonialism, racism, motherhood and the rights of women to control their own sexuality. Just how much sex, violence and plain, dull history can be shown in a film that has to earn its way at the box office? How much can history be rewritten to lend more immediate dramatic impact to the story? Is there anything wrong with distorting characters and changing locations in the name of art and entertainment? Those, and there are many, who learn their ancient history solely from Troy (Petersen, 2004), Alexander (Stone, 2004) and Cleopatra(Mankiewicz, 1963) are not necessarily aware of these issues but are heavily affected by them.
Joseph Mankiewicz based his Cleopatra on Carlo Maria Franzero's The Life and Times of Cleopatra, a book in which the author relied upon his ‘Latin instinct' rather than simple scholarship to interpret Cleopatra's life. A brief excerpt is enough to give the flavour of the book:
Was she, as a young girl, taken to the Temple of Thebes and deflowered, in the old custom, on the altar of Amon-Re. Did she, in the corrupt atmosphere of the Palace and of her city, allow herself a few amorous adventures? And most important of all – was she a sensual woman, as Josephus calls her, ‘a slave to her senses'? The answer is perhaps simple and eternal: there is no beautiful and intelligent and gifted woman who is not also a woman of the senses.16
A better choice would have been the Life and Times of Cleopatra Queen of Egypt by Arthur Weigall. Weigall's 1914 book, written for a popular audience, was the first to attempt to break away from Shakespeare and set the queen in her own context. Cleopatra was to be viewed as an Egyptian politician rather than a Roman mistress. Indeed, the introduction to the book specifically warns against seeing Cleopatra through purely Roman, or purely modern eyes, and Weigall advises his readers, as they pace the courts of the Ptolemies, against succumbing to ‘the anachronism of criticising our surroundings from the standard of twenty centuries after Christ'.17 He takes great pains to explain and excuse Cleopatra's unconventional eastern lifestyle to his conventional middle-class western readers, who, he assumes, will be shocked by the queen's antics, yet he cannot resist dedicating his first chapter to a consideration of the queen's character and looks. As a quotation from Weigall started this book, it is perhaps appropriate that he should have the last word:
…Having shut out from his memory the stinging words of Propertius, and the fierce lines of Horace … the reader will be in a position to judge whether the interpretation of Cleopatra's character and actions, which I have laid before him, is to be considered as unduly lenient, and whether I have made unfair use of the merciful prerogative of the historian, in [sic] behalf of an often lonely and sorely tried woman, who fought all her life for the fulfilment of a patriotic and splendid ambition, and who died in a manner ‘befitting the descendant of so many kings'18
