Ugly Cleopatra

Liz Taylor as Cleo

by Caroline Lawrence
author of the Roman Mysteries

Contrary to what we would love to believe, Cleopatra VII (i.e. the famous one) was probably not a stunning beauty like Elizabeth Taylor.

Nefertiti

Cleopatra is associated with Egypt, so many modern film-makers and book cover designers use the beautiful portrait of the Egyptian queen Nefertiti as their inspiration.

This portrait bust of Nefertiti, who lived around 1350 BC, was probably idealised (i.e. made to look nicer than the real woman).

But even if Egyptian Nefertiti was that beautiful, remember Cleopatra was not Egyptian. She was a Macedonian Greek, a descendant of Ptolemy, one of Alexander the Great's commanders.

When I was researching the 14th book in my Roman Mysteries series, The Beggar of Volubilis, I was shocked to see contemporary depictions of Cleopatra on coins. These portraits showed Cleopatra as a frizzy-haired, bull-necked hag with a hooked nose and jutting chin. And a man's Adam's apple! She looks like a transvestite, for goodness sake.

Scholars tell us she had herself shown like this because the "masculine" features reminded people of her power and lineage. In other words, it was a kind of political propaganda.

BM exhibition catalogue

But what did she really look like?

A 20th century French writer named André Malraux said this: "Nefertiti is a face without a queen, Cleopatra is a queen without a face." What he meant was that we have a perfect idea of what Nefertiti looked like, but we know almost nothing about her. Whereas we know tons about Cleopatra but nobody can agree what she looked like.

In the glossy catalogue accompanying a 2001 British Museum exhibition about Cleopatra, scholar Guy Weill Goudchaux suggests that Cleopatra was probably slender. Why? Because she had to be light enough for one man to carry her rolled up in a sleeping mat along corridors of the palace and into Caesar's presence. But she probably wasn't too petite or she wouldn't have been able give birth to four children with no problems.

OK. She was slender and not too tall. But what did her face look like?

There are two other famous quotes about Cleopatra that relate to her looks.

The first one is by Plutarch, a Greek historian who was born around AD 45, about 75 years after she died. In his biography of Mark Anthony he writes this about Cleopatra (and I paraphrase): "Her beauty was not exceptional enough to instantly affect those who saw her, but she had a charming way of conversing, and an invigorating presence. Her sweet voice was as well-modulated as a lyre, and she could speak whichever language she pleased."

So she was melodic, intelligent, charming and charismatic. But not a jaw-dropping beauty, like Elizabeth Taylor up above.

The other famous quote is by a French philosopher named Blaise Pascal who lived in the 1600s. He had a big nose himself and was certainly familiar with the startling coins showing big-nosed Cleo. He wrote this: "If Cleopatra's nose had been shorter, the whole face of the world might have been changed."

This statement has intrigued generations of scholars since, and even the creators of Asterisk refer to it in their own witty way.

witty nose reference by Julius Caesar in Asterix and Cleopatra

But Monsieur Pascal knew that in the ancient world – and many periods since – a strong nose showed strength of character. If her nose had been weaker, maybe her character would have been weaker, too. Maybe her strong nose was one of the things that attracted Julius Caesar and Mark Anthony, two of the most powerful men in the world, to fall in love with her and marry her.

bust of Cleopatra in Berlin

In the 21st century, everyone wants babyish good looks, with big eyes and a button nose. Women will pay good money to have a strong nose made smaller, to fit in with modern conventions.

But at the time when Cleopatra and Anthony were struggling with Octavian for control of the entire Roman Empire (c. 37 - 30 BC) a big nose did signify strength of character and power. This marble bust, now in Berlin, is accepted as one of the few accurate depictions of Cleopatra VII. It shows that she did indeed have a strong nose, even if it wasn't the eagle's beak depicted on the coins.

To my mind, the most inspired portrait ever done of Cleopatra is the one painted in 1888 by J.W. Waterhouse. I am going through a bit of a Waterhouse phase, and have blogged about his fabulous paintings of Adonis, Ariadne, Circe, Hylas, Narcissus and Orpheus. Waterhouse was famous for painting dewy-eyed nymphs and nubile girls.

His Cleopatra is quite a departure from his usual type.

But what a departure. He shows a woman sitting on a throne, with her head down. This reminds me of a phrase from the Iliad: hypodra idon, looking out from beneath her eyebrows. The phrase is usually applied to the great warrior Achilles.

Waterhouse has shown us a woman with frizzy rather than glossy black hair. Her face is in shadow so we have to get right up close to see her features and read her expression. She has a low, heavy forehead and a monobrow. Dark, smouldering eyes, full of intelligence and ambition with a hint of regret. A strong nose, sensuous lips and a firm, rounded chin.

Cleopatra by J.W. Waterhouse (1888) sadly in a private collection

Her posture speaks volumes, too. She is seated on a throne to represent power. One arm akimbo, a gesture of authority often seen in parents, teachers and police when enforcing their rules. Her left arm rests on a lioness arm-rest of her throne, another symbol of power. But one of her mannish fingers is almost gouging out the lioness's eye. This reminds us that she was ruthless when she had to be.

What Waterhouse has done is to combine the two contrasting personae of Cleopatra: the slender charismatic charmer who held men in her thrall and the power-craving, ruthless ruler who was not afraid to have herself portrayed as a man in drag.

a Waterhouse nymph

I called this post "Ugly Cleopatra" to gain your attention. In fact she was the woman of her century. Brilliant, witty, charismatic, courageous, fluent in several languages and – most unusually – politically ambitious.

I think Waterhouse totally got Cleopatra.

Compare his soft, watery nymphs to the smouldering, tortured despot above and I think you will agree that in her own way Cleo is just as beautiful as any of them.

Only a hell of a lot scarier! 

P.S. In April 2016, I attended Les Grands Jeux Romains at the ancient Roman arena at Nîmes. Over four hundred re-enactors restaged the (sea) battle of Actium with Cleopatra playing a major part. The attention to detail was superb and I was delighted to see Waterhouse's influence in Cleopatra's throne with its lion-head arms. (photo of Cleopatra by Christelle Champ)

[Two of my Roman Mysteries feature references to Cleopatra VII, the famous one. In The Beggar of Volubilis a plain, frizzy-haired, big-nosed girl claims to be her great, great granddaughter. In The Scribes from Alexandria Cleo makes a "guest appearance" on the beach at Canopus. The 17+ books in the Roman Mysteries series are perfect for children aged 9+, especially those studying Romans, Greeks or Egyptians as a topic in Key Stage 2. Carrying on from the Roman Mysteries, the Roman Quests series set in Roman Britain launched in May 2016 with Escape from Rome.]

Cleopatra in Bath

(Caroline Lawrence's review of the Thermae Bath Spa in the town of Bath)

After my talk at the Bath Festival of Children’s Literature, I thought it might be fun to try out the new luxury Thermae Bath Spa. Built of glass and stone, it is surrounded by Georgian Buildings. You book your session in advance and if you get one of their 50 special ‘treatments’, you get two hours in the baths as well. I studied the options as listed on their website and plumped for the ‘Cleopatra goat’s milk bath flotation and foot massage’. After all, this session was for research purposes.

You pay for your session in advance (I’m sure Cleopatra had a gold card) and you turn up half an hour beforehand with your swimming things. If you book a treatment, the Spa loans you a white robe and towel for no extra charge, and they give you white terrycloth slippers to use and keep. (If you just visit the pools and steam room you have to rent these three items or bring your own.) Upon entry, you are given a plastic bracelet called a ‘SmartBand’ which you use to open and close your locker and to pay for meals in the restaurant. Most efficient. I think Julius Caesar would have approved.

The partitions between the changing rooms and shower cubicles are a made of frosted glass in eau-de-nil (pale Nile-water-green). At first glance they look as if they might be see-through but thankfully, they aren’t. After changing into my swimsuit and stowing my belongings in locker number LXXI, I don the white robe and terrycloth slippers and shuffle off to the lower ground floor. You can get to different levels by lift or stairs.


There are skylights and glass walls everywhere, so you get a delicious sense of space and light. Well done, Vitruvius! (Or whoever designed it…)

For treatments, you go to the Minerva Bath on the lowest floor and follow a ramp up. The glass walls allow you to see people frolicking in the Minerva Bath as you wait. The Minerva Bath is a big curved swimming pool with a circular section for a whirlpool and a fan shaped downward-pointing spout for an intermittent jet of water. As I fill out a brief medical questionnaire and wait for my treatment, I notice lots of cuddling couples in the pool. Plus ça change. The Romans knew very well how sensual a few hours of steam and water and massage could be. I imagine Cleo and Anthony would have enjoyed that big warm pool.

At precisely 6.15, the time of my appointment, one of the therapists comes to get me. She is dressed in blue uniform like the scrubs they wear in American hospital TV shows. Natalie takes me into a private room with ambient generic new-age mood music. There is a ceiling fan, a shower and a treatment table.

Natalie is charming. She asks me a few questions based on the questionnaire, then tells me to ‘Take off your robe and swimsuit and lie down on the table, please.’

‘Naked?’ I ask.

‘No, you put on these paper panties.’

I notice the massage table is covered by two sheets of plastic, a towel and some alarming looking pieces of blue marsh grass.

‘Are you going to whip me with those first?’ I ask.

Natalie laughs as she removes them. ‘No, they’re for decoration.’

As she leaves me to get ready I wonder if Cleopatra ever wore papyrus panties.

Alma-Tadema Roman bath

I lie face down on the bed, with a towel over me. Natalie comes back in and gives me a rather cursory dry skin brushing with a natural fiber brush (camel hair, perhaps?) Then she slathers me with a warm mixture of goatsmilk, ‘minerals’ and aloe vera. I guess a whole bath of the stuff would be terribly expensive, but I am a little disappointed. I imagined myself descending into an Alma-Tadema circular marble bath filled with warm goatsmilk as muscular Nubian slaves fanned me with peacock feathers. Oh well…

The goatsmilk mixture gets cold very quickly and there is a lot of tactful faffing about with the towel to preserve my modesty. (When I had a hot fango mud treatment in Ischia, my female therapist encouraged me to slather my modesty myself.) After I am more or less coated in this quickly cooling milky mixture, Natalie wraps the two plastic sheets around me and puts a warm, rosemary filled eye-mask over my eyes. Now for the floatation bit. A cushion filled with warm water rises up around me as the platform beneath my back sinks down into its base. I can feel the cushion’s warmth on my arms and cheeks, along with a sensation of floating. This reminds me of waterbeds from the 1980’s, only the warmth makes it much nicer. Nicer still is when Natalie gently massages my feet – the only part of me still sticking out - with ‘Oriental oil’. This is good because otherwise the water-filled flotation cushion might be a bit claustrophobic; the gentle foot massage gives your mind another point of focus. The ambient music is still playing. Although I wish it was more exotic and Egyptian, this part is blissful. I even drift off once or twice. The bright yellow chime of a yoga bell brings me back to the here and now.

I feel ‘stretched out’ as the panel comes back up and the floatation device melts away. Most of the goatsmilk and aloe vera mixture should have soaked into my skin, but Natalie massages in the last remnants to make sure it is all absorbed. After the delicious warmth of the floatation cushion it is uncomfortably chilly as my naked back is exposed, and I ask her to turn off the ceiling fan. She removes the plastic sheets by having me lift up my back and then my legs and finishes massaging in the mixture.

A final chime of the bell marks the end of my session. Natalie says she will get me a glass of water and that I can then dress in my own time. She reminds me not to forget to put on my ‘SmartBand’. I have just finished dressing when she comes back with a plastic cup of water. She shows me an area where I could go to have a herbal tea and relax, but I forego that because I want to go up to the rooftop pool and see the sunset.

Eheu! I’m too late. The sun has already set and it’s a bit overcast now. But never mind. The town of Bath still looks lovely from up here, with the Abbey floodlit and the sky not quite dark. Again, I notice lots of canoodling couples in the water, most in their 20’s. Suddenly, some bubbles start to rise up. ‘Here they come,’ says a hairy-backed man to his girlfriend. The bubbles are pretty feeble. Nothing to write home to Julius Caesar about. And the pool isn’t as warm as I’d expected. When you get out it is quite chilly. Not as nice as the hot pool in Bamff, surrounded by snowly peaks. Another flaw is that the terrycloth slippers soon get sodden and cold. White plastic flip-flops would be better, but probably not as cheap to produce.

a Nile blue lotus

Next I go to the steam room one floor below the rooftop pool. This is a huge steamy room with a central shower and four large cylindrical frosted glass pods full of even more steam. In one of the pods I see a couple alone and embracing. Edepol! This place really is like Baiae, the ancient mixed baths of Rome. Baiae was notorious for bathing establishments with mixed sex bathing and the inevitable debauchery that went along with that.

Most people are up on the rooftop pool, so apart from the embracing couple and one or two others, the steam pods are empty. I find one pod for myself. A circular bench of stone is very warm, but not too hot to sit or lie on. I try out the frankincense steam, the lavender, and the breathless eucalyptus. Of course, eucalyptus is from Australia and was unknown in Roman times. Cleopatra would have enjoyed saffron, rose or lotus. The foot massage pools around the side of the room don’t seem to be working. For some reason the plugs don’t stop the water going out. So I have to forego the ‘gentle water massage’ on my tootsies. By Isis! This is not good.

not the Thermae Bath Spa, but Pamukkale, Turkey

There are three hot baths in the complex, including the Cross bath at a slightly removed site, now closed for the evening. In actual fact the pools are warm - not hot - and as it s a cool September evening, it makes it slightly a chilly exercise as I descend three floors to the Minerva Bath. The water in this pool is only lukewarm, too. I wish it were warmer, like the baths I tried in Pamukkale in Turkey a year or two ago. I wonder if this is the natural temperature of the springs. I remember seeing the milky green water in the great pool of the Roman bath next door steaming in the cool air above it and I suspect not. I wait in the lukewarm pool under the fan-shaped shower for the massage jet. One of the bathers tells me that it comes on unexpectedly. This seems a bit pointless. I wait for ten minutes and am finally rewarded with a powerful jet of lukewarm water. Would be nice if it were hotter. But I suppose that might lead to people overheating and health and safety issues. Hmf. Cleopatra never had to worry about health and safety.

Now I am getting hungry. I decide to visit the Spring Restaurant. You get two complimentary hours in the baths with any treatment, and if you eat in the Spring Restaurant they add on 45 minutes. Suddenly I realize I left my ‘SmartBand’ in my therapy room. Doh! That wasn’t very smart of me. Luckily Natalie turned it in at reception and they hand it back with a smile. The restaurant could be warmer, too. But I find a table by a window and sit down in my damp bathing suite and toweling robe. I blink in surprise as a man and woman in Georgian costume walk by on the night cobblestones below me. Apparently Bath is popular for Jane Austen-themed weddings.

I long for my notebook or iPhone so I can make notes, but have to content myself with sipping my glass of house white and watching the other diners. It is quite a surreal experience to be dining in a room full of people wearing white robes and slippers. One bespectacled man has tucked his dark green paper napkin into the neck of his robe. I think of Fellini’s great film 8 1/2, with all its great spa scenes.

My crab cakes with sweet chili sauce and lemongrass salad arrive. Ugh! The sauce and pineapple in the salad are cloyingly sweet and the crab cakes too fishy. I should have ordered the Greek salad in honour of Cleopatra, who was Greek not Egyptian. She would have dined on crocodile steaks and ibis tongues, no doubt.

Another flaw in the Thermae Bath Spa is that you have to go right to the lowest level to shower, then back up a floor to the changing rooms. And the showers demand that you constantly hit their buttons, otherwise they only give you ten seconds of water. Annoying. Chop off somebody’s head. (right: the Pink Panther and Scooby Doo outside the baths... don't ask!)

What would Anthony and Cleopatra think of the Thermae Bath Spa? Well, apart from the absence of oiled Nubian slaves with peacock-feather fans and full immersion pools of goatsmilk (wasn’t it asses’ milk, anyway?) they would have loved the look of the place: the pale Nile-water-coloured cubicles, the light, the glass, the water and the romantic atmosphere. They might have enjoyed a steamy embrace in the frankincense pod and a luxurious couples’ massage in the therapy rooms. But if I were Cleopatra, heads would roll about the following flaws:
1. Too chilly
2. Soggy, clammy terrycloth slippers
3. Foot massage pools malfunction
4. Cloying crab cakes
5. Too many hoi polloi! I want it all to myself!

You can book a treatment at the Thermae Bath Spa by phoning 0844 888 0844, or by visiting their website www.thermaebathspa.com

And you might enjoy my blog about Ugly Cleopatra.

[The 17 books in the Roman Mysteries series are perfect for children aged 9+, especially those studying Romans, Greeks or Egyptians as a topic in Key Stage 2. There are DVDs of some of the books as well as an interactive game.]