Cleopatra the Great (27 page)

Guests reclined on couches around a central dining table, a linen napkin at their neck and another to wipe their fingers — forks had yet to be invented, although the Romans were particularly fond of imported Eastern silverware. And after the gods had been invoked in an ancient form of grace, a procession of servants brought in gold and silver platters laden with food.

With bread the basis of most ancient diets, the wealthy enjoyed light ‘artophites' bread made from best wheat flour in contrast to the soldiers' dried ‘buccellatum' bread or the coarse bran loaves fed to slaves and dogs. And although, through economic necessity, most Romans added little more to their bread than eggs and vegetables, plain food was a means for some to demonstrate Republican credentials in the face of increasingly exotic fare from the East. One third-century
BC
Roman general required nothing more than a dish of home-grown boiled turnips, since ‘a man for whom such a dinner sufficed had no need of gold'. Yet Caesar and Cleopatra, like most wealthy Romans, expected a much wider range of fare on their dining tables than bread and turnips.

Beginning a meal with the traditional ‘gustatio' starters, asparagus was a favourite dish commonly served at Caesar's table with an olive oil-based dressing or perhaps incorporated into some form of mousse. Served alongside were such dishes as mushrooms in red wine, celery in raisin sauce, lentils with mussels and herbs, olives in herb-flavoured oil, bread and tapenade (olive paste), vegetable fritters and small balls of fried cheese-pastry known as Globi.

When in Rome, Cleopatra may have done as the Romans did and enjoyed an early form of tagliatelle known as lagana, a great favourite of Caesar's associate Cicero, along with a polenta or porridge called pulmentus to which cheese might be added to create ‘Puis Punica', Carthaginian porridge. There were various types of cheese, from ricotta to softer cream cheeses blended with herbs or nuts; Sicilian cooks were well known for their enthusiastic use of cheese, although their cheesy fish recipes were a little too much for some palates.

Yet fish, both plain and highly flavoured, appeared frequently at the Primae Mensae, the main course. A favourite of Greeks and many Italians, all manner of seafood could be caught around the Bay of Naples, although Caesar was also supplied by his wealthy cousin's fish farm whose speciality, sea eels, would have been presented at Cleopatra's table when she was in Rome. Eels were among the most expensive offish, and the belief that the Egyptians worshipped then was referred to in one Greek comedy which claimed that ‘the eel you consider the greatest divinity, and we the greatest dish'. But then, the Greeks' extreme love of seafood also bordered on the religious.

One recipe for eels dressed in beet leaves compared the fish to nubile goddesses in the same way that a pair of Greek sisters were referred to as ‘the anchovies' on account of their ‘pale skin, slender figures and large eyes'. ‘Some men's lust for fish was so great that they were described as ‘opsomanes', ‘fish-mad'; rather than those who were simply ‘gunaikomanes', ‘girl-mad', and, since they were able to wield such power, fish were commonly used in love spells. With the red mullet associated with the classical goddess Hekate and the Nile perch sacred to Hathor, the Egyptian association between fish and reproduction is reflected in the words of a girl rising from the waters, inviting her lover to ‘see the red fish playing between my fingers'. Then as now, certain seafood was regarded as an aphrodisiac: Venus herself was said to consume giant oysters at midnight. It would not be too difficult to imagine Caesar and Cleopatra sharing a dish of the oysters imported into Rome from as far afield as the Red Sea and Britain, presumably well packed with ice or vinegar.

For the wealthy minority, exotic imports might also include British beef imported via Gaul; ‘Numidian birds' or guinea fowl from North Africa; Egypt's smoked quail, which were a favourite of Alexander; and even the Indian peacocks kept for their ornamental value but very occasionally served at table as the ultimate in conspicuous consumption, even if they were so tough that they had to be made into rissoles and then stewed in a broth. Served alongside them were the more widely available roast lamb, sucking pig, roast duck and pigeon, with a range of elaborate sauces. Caesar's secretary Aulus Hirtius was famous for the sauces his chef produced, from lamb stewed Lydian-style with feta cheese to beef and veal cooked in a sweet and sour sauce.

It is questionable whether Cleopatra ever tucked into famous Roman delicacies such as dormice in honey or milk-fattened snails served in liquamen, a sauce made from fermented fish entrails. But liquamen was certainly a firm favourite with the Romans, who added it liberally to most savoury dishes and it was a staple of the dining table along with its more concentrated version, garum. The frequent use of salt, wine vinegar and costly black pepper imported via Egypt's Red Sea ports, along with ginger, cinnamon and turmeric from south-east Asia, all earned the Romans a well-deserved reputation for highly flavoured food.

A selection of grapes, apples, pomegranates and figs usually formed the last course. Cleopatra had a taste for large, juicy figs and may well also have been fond of Egyptian dates, which were imported by the sackload from Thebes. The soft fruits of Campania were available too, stewed in wine or made into jelly along with an early form of ice cream made from honey, nectar and ice, a favourite of Alexander's that was no doubt available to his successors. Honey was also added to stewed fruit, egg custards and a whole array of confections such as sesame and honey wafers, nut and poppy-seed biscuits, a panforte-type fruit and nut cake, and the distinctive pyramid-shaped cakes or ‘pyramis' made of honey-soaked wheat in an amusing tribute to Cleopatra's homeland.

After dinner came the ‘drinking course' symposium, and although Caesar drank little himself he and Cleopatra may have shared the odd glass of vintage Caecuban, ‘the Roman equivalent of the modern champagne', drunk from the finest crystal goblets. With performances by the ‘perfumed singer and musical virtuoso' Marcus Tigellius Her-mogenes, and the occasional recitation from the Mytilene poet Cri-nagoras who visited Caesar in 45
BC
, the couple's symposia brought like-minded philhellenes together in a combination of floor-show and philosophical debate, sometimes led by Cleopatra's philosopher friend Philostratus.

Although the original Greek symposia tended to be all-male drinking parties at which women were only there to provide some variety to the standard homosexual proceedings, the mixed gatherings of Rome clearly intimidated some men who claimed ‘worse still is the well-read menace, who's hardly settled for dinner before she starts . . . comparing, evaluating rival poets . . . she's so determined to prove herself eloquent, learned . . . Avoid a dinner partner with an argumentative style . . . choose someone rather who doesn't understand all she reads. I hate these authority-citers . . . who with antiquarian zeal quote poets I've never heard of.

Although Roman women's drinking habits would have been strictly policed at such events, Cleopatra's court by the Tiber would have been governed by the very different traditions of the Ptolemies and their patron deity Dionysos, god of wine, whose previously banned rites were reintroduced into Rome by the famously abstemious Caesar. No doubt he restored the god as a gesture to Cleopatra, but the reappearance of a cult featuring public drinking and dancing must have proved unpopular with many of the more straitlaced Romans. It was certainly true of those who wanted the old Republic back, and who as the enemies of Caesar could have had little love for the woman presiding over her foreign court at the heart of Rome.

Although Caesar lived with his Roman wife Calpurnia in his official residence on the Sacred Way, the ancient sources suggest that he appeared with Cleopatra fairly openly. Some modern commentators suggest he was far too busy to have seen much of her, only dropping in from time to time; on the contrary, Cleopatra's influence on Caesar cannot be underestimated.

It was certainly not lost on the Republicans, who had long blamed anything they didn't like on the nearest ‘non-Roman' source, be it Greek or Egyptian. Having already declared Alexandria ‘the home of all tricks and deceits', Cicero paid Cleopatra at least one visit to acquire certain literary works he claimed she had promised him. In the end her efficient network of spies and informers presumably discovered his true opinion, and the books were never forthcoming. This clearly upset Cicero — but with several failed marriages suggesting some sort of problem with women, not to mention his loathing for most things Greek, exemplified by his use of the term Graeculus, ‘dirty little Greek', and his deep hatred of monarchy, it seems unlikely he could ever have forged a close friendship with a woman he refused even to name, referring only to ‘the queen' in an intended insult.

His attitude certainly revealed the enormous divide between Egyptian monarchy and Roman Republicanism, although Cleopatra's presence in Rome was at odds not only with Republican ideals but also with the status of Roman women. At a time when the best epitaph a Roman woman could hope for was that she was ‘charming in conversation, yet her conduct was appropriate. She kept house, she made wool', a woman wielding more power than the men around her was simply unacceptable. So too was a woman covered in all the trappings of royalty which the Romans associated with men, and while a man in women's clothes was simply regarded as effeminate, Roman women were forbidden by law to wear male clothing.

Certainly Cicero had claimed that ‘our ancestors established the rule that all women, because of their weakness of intellect, should be under the power of [male] guardians', although he presumably never voiced such sentiments in the presence of the intellectually superior Cleopatra. Yet in an extraordinary letter to a friend, Cicero wrote, ‘I hate the queen! And the man who vouches for her promises, Ammonius, knows I have good reason to do so; although the gifts she promised me were of a literary nature and not beneath my dignity — the sort I should not have minded proclaiming in public. Her man Sara too, beside being a rogue, I have found impertinent towards myself. Once, and only once, have I seen him in my house; and then, when I asked him politely what he wanted, he said he was looking for Atticus. And the queen's insolence, when she was living in Caesar's house in the gardens across the Tiber, I cannot recall without indignation. So no dealings with that lot!'

Although his intriguing reference to ‘her man Sara' has been assumed to be a shortening of the Egyptian name Serapion, it may just as likely refer to Cleopatra's brother Ptolemy XIV whose royal title ‘son of Ra' would have been vocalised as ‘sa ra' when read out at audiences in Rome. If he did visit Cicero's house, his belief in his own divine status would also explain his perceived ‘impertinence' in much the same way that his half-sister was described as insolent.

As Cicero and his fellow Republicans discussed how they should deal with this unnaturally powerful woman who wielded so much influence over Caesar and the future of Rome, they expressed equal suspicions of Antonius, a long-standing enemy of Cicero's. Referring to him as a loathsome man', Cicero ridiculed Antonius' love of all things Greek and lampooned his exotic dress sense, from his penchant for the white ‘phaikasion' footwear of Athenian officials and Alexandrian priests to his choice of local clothing when working in Gaul. From time to time Antonius also dressed as Herakles, his family's divine ancestor, whom he resembled in build ‘and also by the fashion of his dress. For whenever he had to appear before large numbers, he wore his tunic girt low about the hips, a broadsword on his side, and over all a large coarse mantle'.

Yet the things that Cicero so despised about Antonius were the very things which made him so attractive to Caesar and Cleopatra. He had mended his former ways with the help of his ambitious third wife, Fulvia, and the couple may well have paid court to Cleopatra in an attempt to heal the rift with Caesar. Antonius once lost interest in a speech when Cleopatra passed by in her carrying chair, whereupon ‘Antonius started up and left them in the middle of their cause, to follow at her side and attend her home.' Knowing him to be a philhellene and a great admirer of Alexander, Cleopatra realised his cause was theirs, drawing him back into their circle of allies as she embarked on her quest to bring Caesar supreme power in Rome to complement her own position as supreme monarch in Egypt.

Their young son Caesarion was destined to be the new Alexander, to rule over a united East and West. His early years in Rome may well have followed Soranus' indispensable advice on weaning, teething, swaddling and even nappy rash, together with recommendations for a small ‘push-cart' or chair on wheels when the baby started to walk. It was said that the boy not only looked like Caesar but walked like him, and now that they were able to spend time together in the privacy of the villa a bond must have developed between father and son, his only surviving child in a culture which prized male heirs above all else.

Although the time was not yet right for Caesar to make a public announcement of his paternity, he had nevertheless told Antonius and several close associates as he began work on a new law which would make it legal for the Dictator to have more than one marriage for the purpose of producing an heir. This was clear evidence of the serious nature of his relationship with Cleopatra and his intentions for their son. Cleopatra herself was highly popular among Caesar's faction, as well as an object of tremendous curiosity to the general public.

Having recently enjoyed the dazzling splendours of Caesar's Triumph for Egypt, the people of Rome must have regarded Cleopatra's arrival in their city as adding to this exotic allure: she was the most glamorous individual most Romans had ever seen; every detail of her appearance and lifestyle was scrutinised and copied. From her Egyp-tian-themed surroundings to her melon hairstyle and pearl jewellery, so many Roman women adopted the ‘Cleopatra look' that their statuary has often been mistaken for Cleopatra herself.