The Woman of Andros and The Ides of March (26 page)

Marriage inevitably commits us to extended examples of our wives’ conversation. Now the conversation of women within the married relationship – I do not now speak of that other crucifixion, their conversation at social gatherings – behind all the disguises of guile and incoherence treats of only these two subjects: conservation and ostentation.

It shares a characteristic of the conversation of slaves, and logically so, for the position of women in our world has much in common with that of slaves. This may be regrettable but I would not be among those who would apply themselves to altering it. The conversation of slaves and women is directed by ruse. Guile and violence are the sole resorts available to the dispossessed; and violence on the part of slaves can only be resorted to through close consolidation with their fellow unfortunates. Against such consolidation the state rightly maintains a constant vigilance and the slave is driven to seek his ends by guile. The recourse to violence is likewise closed to women because they are incapable of consolidation; they distrust one another like Greeks and with good reason. Hence, they, too, resort to ruse. How often in visiting my villas and conferring all day with my foremen and laborers I have retired to bed as exhausted as though I had wrestled with each, body and mind at the alert lest I be crippled or robbed. The slave introduces the aims he has in mind from every direction and by every indirection; there is no trap for concession that he does not employ, no flattery, no show of logic, no pressure on fear or avarice; and all this to avoid building a pergola, to eliminate an inferior, to enlarge his cottage, or to obtain a new coat.

Such too is the conversation of woman; but how much more diverse her aims, how much wider her resources of attack, and how much more deeply rooted her passion to attain her ends.

For the most part, a slave merely desires conveniences; but behind a woman’s wishes lie forces which are for her the very nature of life itself: the conservation of property; the esteem in which she is held by those matrons of her acquaintance whom she despises and dreads; the claustration of a daughter, whom she wishes to be ignorant, joyless, and brutified. So deeply rooted are a woman’s aims that they have to her the character of self-evident truth and unshakable wisdom. Hence, she can feel only contempt for any opinion that opposes her own. Reason is unnecessary and trifling to one so endowed; she is deaf in advance. A man may have saved the State, directed the affairs of a world, and acquired an undying fame for wisdom, but to his wife he is a witless fool.

[
Here follows a paragraph about the sexual relationship. It has been so distorted by the glee and invention of copyists and transmitters that it is impossible to determine the original text
.]

These things are not often said, though occasionally the poets reveal them – those same poets who are primarily responsible for the delusion that marriage is a heaven and who betray us into seeking the Perilous Exception. Euripides left no word of it untold in the
Medea.
Little wonder that the Athenians drove him from Athens with imprecations for telling such truths. The mob was led by Aristophanes who has shown that he knew these things – though with less candor; he stifled his knowledge in order to hound from the city a greater poet. And Sophocles! What husband has not smiled grimly to himself before the scene where Jocasta heaps lies on lies, putting a fair face on a calamitous situation. Notable example of that so-called conjugal love that will conceal any fact from a husband in order to maintain an ostensible contentment; bold illustration that for mentality a wife can barely distinguish a husband from a son.

Oh, my friend, let us console ourselves with philosophy. There is a realm where they have never entered; indeed, in which they never have taken the faintest interest. Let us welcome that old age which frees us from that desire for their embraces – embraces which must be paid for at the cost of all order in our lives and any tranquility in our minds.

Abra, Pompeia’s Maid, to Clodia.

[
October 1
.]

I have been in great anxiety, honoured Madam, concerning yourself and your house and concerning our Master after the attempt on his life. Madam, all has been in great dismay here; the house always full of visitors and police and my mistress at her wits’ end. Himself, praise the Immortal Gods, woke up at noon and seemed none the worse; in fact, very merry which made my mistress most angry. He was very hungry and ate and ate and the doctor protested and my mistress got down on her knees and begged him not to eat. But he made such jokes that we had all we could do to keep straight faces.

I heard him say to everybody standing around, Madam, that he never enjoyed a dinner more than the one he enjoyed at your house. The General Marc Antony said why and he said because the company was so good. And, begging your pardon, Marc Antony said you mean Claudilla and himself said Claudilla is an extraordinary woman. I hope I am correct in telling things like this to Madam.

Now I should tell Madam that he announced to all who came in during the day that Cleopatra, she that is queen of Egypt, will arrive today or tomorrow.

[
October 6
.]

The Master was not home last night, the first time in a very long time and everybody has their ideas.

The Queen has sent my mistress the most wonderful presents, especially one the most wonderful thing ever seen. Some workmen came yesterday in great secrecy and set it up and put it in motion. It is an Egyptian palace, Madam, no higher than one’s knee. And when you take off the front wall you can see all the people inside and there is a barnyard and a royal procession and in the most beautiful clothes and colours. But that is not all. When you start water running, this is hard to explain, Madam, the little people all move, the Queen and all her court walk into the house,
up the stairs, yes,
and through the house and the animals go and drink in the Nile and a crocodile swims
against the water,
and the women weave and fishers fish and, Immortal Gods, I cannot tell all that they do. One could look at it forever. My mistress was very delighted and had lights brought and we thought she would never go to bed. Everybody says how clever it was of the Queen, because my mistress forgot everything when she was watching this palace and she forgot that her husband was not at home.

[
October 8
.]

Yesterday the Queen came to visit my mistress. We thought she would wear very fine clothes, but she just wore a blue dress and not a single jewel, so she must know the law about them. Her hair was not dressed at all, madam, just anyhow and I had taken two hours with mistress’s. My mistress thanked her for the toy palace and then the whole time was taken up in explaining it. The Queen is very simple. She even knew my name and explained things to me. But as my mistress’s secretary said you can see that she’s thinking all the time. When the Master he came home, he asked how did it go and my mistress very dignified said why very well, what did you think? Oh, Madam, you should see my Master these days. It is like having ten boys in the house. He is always teasing my mistress and pinching her.

Cornelius Nepos: Commonplace Book.

[
October 3
.]

The Queen of Egypt has arrived. She was received at Ostia by a deputation from the City and the Senate but refused to disembark because the Dictator’s insignia was not present among the welcoming guidons. This was reported to Caesar who hastily dispatched Asinius Pollio to the port bearing his trophies. She then came to Rome, traveling by night.

The Queen has received no one and is reported to be indisposed. She has, however, sent magnificent presents to some thirty persons of note.

[
October 5
.]

The Queen was received at the Capitoline today. The magnificence of her train exceeded anything ever seen in the City. To me at a distance she seemed very beautiful; Alina [
his wife
], having a view of better advantage [
probably sitting among the votaresses of Hestia
] and being a woman, reports that she is decidedly plain, having cheeks so plump that they are condemned as ‘jowls.’ Gossips report that there was a fierce struggle with the Dictator in regard to her costume. The Queens of Egypt, in dress of ceremony, apparently through identification with the Goddess Isis, wear no garments above the girdle. Caesar insisted that she cover her bosom according to the Roman usage, and it was done though lightly. She made a short speech in broken Latin, a longer one in Egyptian. The Dictator replied in Egyptian and Latin. The omens at the sacrifice were extremely favourable.

Cicero in Rome to his Brother.

[
October 8
.]

The words ‘Queen of Egypt’ cast a deep spell, my friend, but not upon me.

I have corresponded for a number of years with this Queen; I have done innumerable services for her chancellery. It can be presumed that she knows my interests and my disposition and my services to this Republic. Arriving in this city she distributes presents to every clerk in the backstairs of government, gifts of a splendor that are suitable only from one royalty to another. To me she sent another such gift. It could feed Sicily for a year; but what have I to do with jeweled headdresses and emerald cats. By the Immortal Gods, I let her steward, the blockhead Hammonios, know that I am not a drunken actor and that I am a man who more values a gift by its appropriateness than by its expense. ‘Has the library at Alexandria no manuscripts?’ I asked him.

The spell cast by this Queen is greatly diminished by the closer view. I indulge a theory that each of us has one age in life toward which we are directed as iron filings are directed toward the north. Marc Antony is forever sixteen and the discrepancy between that age and his present years makes for an increasingly sorry view. My good friend Brutus has been a deliberative and judicious fifty since the age of twelve. Caesar is at forty – a Janus looking toward youth and age, irresolute. By this law, young though she is, Cleopatra is a woman of forty-five, which renders what youthful charms she possesses embarrassing. Her plumpness is the plumpness of a woman who has had eight children. Her walk and port is much admired but not by me. She is twenty-four; her walk is the walk of a woman trying to give the impression that she is twenty-four.

One must be on the alert to recognise these things, however. The prestige of her title; the magnificence of her dress; the effect of her two signal advantages – namely, her fine eyes and the beauty of her speaking voice – subdue the unwary.

Letter and Questionnaire: Cleopatra to Caesar.

[
October 9.
]

My
Deedja, Deedja, Deedja – Crocodeedja
is very unhappy-happy, very happy-unhappy. Happy that she is to see her
Deedja
on the night of the twelfth, all the night of the twelfth, and unhappy that the night of the twelfth is a thousand years away. When I am not with my
Deedja
I sit weeping. I tear my robe to pieces, I wonder why I am here, why I am not in Egypt, what I am doing in Rome. Everybody hates me; everybody sends me letters wishing me dead. Cannot my
Deedja
come before the twelfth? Oh,
Deedja,
life is short, love is short; why cannot we see one another? All day and night other people are seeing my
Deedja.
Do they love him more than I do? Does he love them more than he loves me? No, no, there is nothing in the world that I love more than my
Deedja,
my
Deedja
in my arms, my
Deedja
happy, happy, happy in my arms. Separation is cruel, separation is waste, separation is meaningless.

But if my
Deedja
wishes it so I weep; I do not understand, but I weep and wait for the twelfth. But I must write a letter every day. And oh my
Deedja,
write me a letter every day. I cannot sleep when night comes after a day when I have had no real letter from you. Every day there are your presents with five words. I kiss them; I hold them long; but when there is no real letter with the presents I cannot love them.

I must write a letter every day to tell my
Deedja
that I love only him, and think only of him. But there are other tiresome little things I must ask him, too. Things I must know so that I will be a dignified guest worthy of his protection. Forgive
Crocodeedja
these little tiresome questions.

1. At my party, at my rout, I go to the lowest step of my throne to welcome my
Deedja’s
wife. Do I also go to the lowest step to meet my
Deedja’s
aunt? What do I do to welcome the consuls and the consuls’ wives?

[
Caesar’s answer:
Hitherto all queens have come to the lowest step. I am changing all that. My wife and my aunt will be with me. You will meet us at the arch. Your throne will not be raised by eight steps, but by one. All other guests you will greet standing before your throne. This arrangement may seem to rob you of the dignity of eight steps, but eight steps are not a dignity for those who must descend them and you would have to descend them to welcome the consuls who are or have been sovereigns. Think this over and you will see that
Deedja
is right.]

2. The Lady Servilia has not replied to my invitation.
Deedja,
you understand that I cannot suffer that. I know ways to enforce her attendance and I must use them.

[
Caesar’s answer:
I do not understand you. The Lady Servilia will be present.]

3. If it’s a cold night, I shall not move an inch from my braziers or I shall perish. But where can I get enough braziers for my guests at the water-ballet?

[
Caesar’s answer:
Furnish the ladies of your court with braziers. We Italians are accustomed to the cold and we dress to warm ourselves.]

4. In Egypt royalty does not receive dancers and theater people. I am told I should invite the actress Cytheris, that she is received by many patricians, and that your nephew or cousin Marc Antony goes nowhere without her. Must I invite her? Indeed, must I invite
him?
– he comes every day to my court; he has very impudent eyes; I am not accustomed to being laughed at.