I have never met Stacy Schiff; I have not read her Pulitzer-Prize-winning biography of Vera Nabokov; and I doubt that I ever will. You see, this morning I picked up the Saturday-Sunday review pages of the 23-24 October Wall Street Journal; and after reading one marvelous piece after another, I came upon Ms. Schiff’s article Still under Cleopatra’s Spell – which touches on a subject which I, on occasion, still teach. Based presumably upon Schiff’s forthcoming book Cleopatra: A Life, her article reminds me a bit of the sort of Hollywood movie that takes a classic work of profound insight – say Henry James’s The Bostonians – and twists it into a boring feminist tract.
We remain unnerved by female ambition, accomplishment, and authority,” Ms. Schiff informs us.
The wise woman mutes her voice in order to maintain her political or corporate constituency. She is often cast all the same as a scheming harridan or a threatening seductress. Her clothing budget attracts uncommon scrutiny, by definition either too large or too small. If she is not overly sexual, she is suspiciously sexless.
"Oh, really?" I found myself thinking. Since when have such aspersions generally been cast to real effect on the likes of Meg Whitman, Carly Fiorina, Christine O’Donnell, Sharron Angle, Diane Feinstein, Ella Grasso, Sandra Day O’Connor, Margaret Thatcher, Golda Meir, or Indira Gandhi? All of these women have been subject to attack, of course, but ordinarily not in the fashion that Ms. Schiff imagines – except, of course, when Maureen Dowd is on the prowl. And if Ms. Schiff’s account describes with any accuracy the brickbats frequently thrown at the likes of Barbara Boxer and Hillary Clinton, perhaps it is because there is some truth in the charges lodged.
When Ms. Schiff turns from generalizations to the putative subject of her new book, her prose becomes breathless:
Cleopatra emerged as stand-in for her occult, alchemical land, the intoxicating address of sex and excess. She wielded power shrewdly and easily, making her that rarest of things: a woman who—working from an original script—discomfited the very male precincts of traditional authority. Two thousand years later, those tensions and anxieties have not relaxed their hold.
And when Ms. Schiff turns to the particulars, she is similarly inclined to exaggeration. “Cleopatra controlled the greatest grain supply in the ancient world,” she rightly observes. Then, she promptly goes off the tracks: “Rome stood at her mercy. She could singlehandedly feed that city. She could equally well starve it if she cared to.” The first and third of these claims are utterly unfounded. To begin with, Ms. Schiff neglects the fact that Rome had other sources of grain in Sicily, Spain, Sardinia, North Africa, Anatolia, and the Crimea, and she fails to mention that, like her father, Cleopatra was a client monarch who ruled at the sufferance of Rome and who possessed no means by which to prevent the Romans from landing an army in Egypt and supplanting her. There was a reason why – when faced with Julius Caesar and Mark Antony – Cleopatra resorted to sexual allure. Seduction is what she had to offer; and, if she exercised power in the Roman world, it was solely through the men that she seduced.
In Cleopatra’s day, Rome was not, as Ms. Schiff claims, “a provincial backwater.” It was a gigantic city – the capital of a vast empire encompassing the entire Mediterranean as well as the region now occupied by Belgium and France. If one wanted a book, it was not generally “difficult to get a copy” at Rome, and there is no evidence that on cultural grounds the Romans “nursed a healthy inferiority complex” vis-à-vis the residents of Alexandria. Nor is there any evidence that “in Egypt female children were not left to die” and that “the Romans marveled” at the fact. Ms. Schiff is no doubt correct when she says that “Egyptian women loaned money and operated barges, initiated lawsuits and hired flute players,” but – when she then adds that “they enjoyed rights women would not again enjoy for another 2,000 years” – she once again goes off the deep end.
Roman women lacked political rights, as did all Egyptians of both sexes (apart from the Ptolemies, their Macedonian overlords). But Roman women did not lack “legal rights,” and Roman widows were perfectly capable of loaning money, operating barges, and initiating lawsuits. Moreover, it is a mistake to assert that in republican Rome – as opposed to, say, Pericles’ Athens – “a good woman was an inconspicuous woman.” Lucretia was, to say the least, conspicuous, and so was Cornelia, the mother of the Gracchi – and, at Rome, these two women and those like them were celebrated for their strength. It is, moreover, absurd to say, as Ms. Schiff does, that among the Romans “the allergy to the powerful woman was even sturdier than that to monarchy or to the impure, inferior East.” Octavian’s wife Livia was no shrinking violet. Cleopatra was not a Roman, and when Antony ditched Octavian’s sister and embraced as his consort the Macedonian ruler of Egypt, he was turning his back on his country, and everyone knew it.
As for “the divide between the civilized, virtuous West and the tyrannical, dissolute East,” it did not begin, as Ms. Schiff asserts, in any way “with Rome and its Egyptian problem.” It began centuries before with the Persian Wars, and it is visible in Aeschylus’ Persians and in Herodotus. When Octavian launched his propaganda assault against Mark Antony, he had a well-defined cultural heritage on which to draw.
If Ms. Schiff’s book is anything like the article she has just published, it will reveal a lot more about its author than about its subject – which is, alas, generally in my experience true of feminist writing and, for that matter, feminist film direction.
Just wait, though. Scott Rudin has reportedly bought the film rights; Angelina Jolie has supposedly been cast as Cleopatra; and some African-Americans – forgetful that Cleopatra was Macedonian and not Egyptian, and caught up in the myth that the ancient Egyptians looked like the Bantu peoples of modern, sub-saharan Africa and not as they do today – are reportedly complaining that she is “too white.” Are we going to have Brad Pitt inflicted on us as Mark Antony? I shudder at the thought.