The naked and the dead

Officially at least, the exhibition now on at the Musée Rath in Geneva is an exercise in historical iconography. Cleopatra in the Mirror of Western Art brings together more than 100 images of the legendary Queen of Egypt. The earliest come from 15th-century illuminated manuscripts; the most recent from Hollywood movies starring Claudette Colbert and Elizabeth Taylor. Most of these Cleopatras are dark-haired, in the interest of verisimilitude, though there are one or two redheads and blondes from painters from northern countries, faithfully reproducing their sitters.

In the 16th and 17th centuries Cleopatra was portrayed as having long hair, sometimes plaited, sometimes falling loose. When Egyptomania was at its height in the 19th century, she was given short hair, sported diadems and necklaces based on the latest archaeological finds, and wore a tight-fitting embroidered skirt.

This regal late-19th-century image of Cleopatra, true to the canons of Symbolism, is the most hieratic. She is malevolent and seems unmoved by the spectacle of her slaves in their death throes after they have tested poisons at her behest. Conversely the Renaissance Cleopatra is easily moved: she sobs on occasion; she raises her eyes to heaven; her face is contorted as she contemplates the dying Antony; and she writhes with pain as she herself expires. Sometimes, however, the painter shows her already dead, with her killer, the asp, still visible.

But there is one thing that almost all these Cleopatras have in common: they are bare-breasted. Whether she is lamenting Antony's death, receiving Caesar or killing herself, the queen is usually topless, and occasionally naked.

When we consult writers of the ancient world, we find that nothing required painters to opt for such nudity in the depiction of the suicide. According to Plutarch, "she bared her arm and exposed it to the snakebite". Dio Cassius says that "only slight pinpricks were found on her arm", while Propertius refers to "arms bitten by the sacred asps".

They all talk about arms, not breasts. Painters tampered with historical fact as they saw fit. For them, Cleopatra was no doubt a moving heroine. But, much more than that, she was an excellent excuse to paint a woman in nature's garb and to weave together the themes of death and sex. Cleopatra was the Egyptian cousin of Lucretia and Mary Magdalen.

One of her most regular and determined disrobers was the early 17th-century painter Guido Cagnacci. In his earliest portrayals of the suicide Cleopatra has a plunging neckline but still wears a dress. In a painting he did towards the end of his life, she wears not a stitch of clothing. All we see is a young woman with firm breasts and half-parted lips, slumped in a large red armchair. Is she dying, or just getting her breath back after making love?

Artemisia Gentileschi portrays a Cleopatra who proudly exhibits a well-rounded bust and belly, as do Fiorentino Rosso and Pietro Negroni. As for Quentin Matsys, he spares us no part of her anatomy.

Cleopatra is the queen of eroticism who transcends good and evil even as she dies. In her final embrace, she is mated with the serpent, that eternal symbol of the devil. Even when she is portrayed in the company of Augustus, her cleavage is so inviting that the emperor cannot help gazing down into it. Their encounter is portrayed similarly by such neoclassical artists as Anton Raphael Mengs and Louis Gauffier. It is true that on that occasion, according to Plutarch, Cleopatra was "dressed only in a tunic", while Dio Cassius describes her as being "attired with a certain degree of negligence".

The exhibition ends up as a lesson in the history of the nude in painting from the Renaissance to Symbolism, which is represented by a very fine picture by Arnold Böcklin and an even more suggestive work by Hans Makart.

By comparison, Cecil B DeMille's Cleopatra and Joseph Mankiewicz's movie of the same name represent an art of frustration. Colbert and Taylor are always shown in a state of relative undress. But it remains relative: the breasts and navel are hidden by an apparel only as scanty as the public morality of the time allowed.

It would be interesting to know whether it was for similar reasons that other filmed representations of Cleopatra are not on view, but are only alluded to in the exhibition catalogue. Images from Peter Perry's The Notorious Cleopatra or the final sequence of Viktor Tourjansky's Una Regina per Cesare ( A Queen for Caesar ) would have perfectly rounded off this chapter in the history of eroticism.

At the Musée Rath, Geneva, until August 1

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