Paris

Beautiful arbiters of intelligence and sex, these women are historically important but perhaps a dying breed. First of two parts.

Nov. 15, 2000 | Courtesans have moved nations for centuries, using a potent combination of sex and politics to influence powerful men and advance their own places in society. Renaissance Venetian Victoria Franco charmed her powerful men with poetry and sex. Fast-forward 400 years or so, and courtesan spirit is embodied in women like Pamela Harriman and Clare Boothe Luce, who propelled themselves to power through their associations and marriages with powerful men. The throne is still open for a true courtesan of the 21st century.

Like a hybrid of Dorothy Parker and Jennifer Lopez, a courtesan in Renaissance Italy used her brains and her body to enjoy the benefits of marriage -- companionship, property and financial stability -- without the stifling social constraints. She also replaced a man's wife on the social scene, since proper married women were sequestered from the sins of the world and kept prisoners in their own home.

Courtesans were companions for bankers, princes, prelates and merchants. Known for their wit, charm and elegance, they palled around with the most important and powerful men of their day. They wrote novels, published poems and influenced politics, often delivering political messages from pillow to pillow. They also used sex, and they flaunted it in ways that married women could not. As the French traveler and writer Pierre de Brantome snidely commented in the 16th century, "Roman ladies copulate like bitches but are silent as stones."

While the heyday of courtesans was classical Greece, they've been in every culture, most notably Renaissance Italy and 18th century Japan. No one knows where the term comes from but it's closest to the male "courtier" which means "of the court," says Margaret Rosenthal, the author of "The Honest Courtesan: The Life of Veronica Franco." Franco is perhaps the best known courtesan of the Renaissance -- a hall-of-famer who greased relations between Venice and France by bedding the King of France, and whose life was depicted in the 1998 film "Dangerous Beauty."

So what exactly would Italian courtesans do all day? They managed their household (which was often paid for by their patrons), overseeing the servants and shopping much like noblewomen. Courtesans were masters of disguise, for sexual intrigue and to throw off potential government officials. They would alternately dress like virgins, widows or ultra-demure noblewomen. Or they would go all out, clad lavishly and teetering on 10-inch clogs (which conveniently required them to have an escort), or sailing into church with an entourage of 10 panting men. (And all this dress-up meant that courtesans were among the biggest supporters of the cosmetics industry, dyeing their hair blond and even putting makeup on their breasts.)

Sometimes they would gleefully evoke the courtesans of ancient Greece, dressing up in togas and telling their lovers they were goddesses. And one of the favorite Venetian bedroom games was acting out the story of Leda and the swan.

But there was little companionship with other women. Friendships with other courtesans were strained since they were all competing for the choicest patrons. Noblewomen didn't like to hang out with them because, well, they were sleeping with their husbands.

Nighttime was when courtesans kicked into high gear. According to Mateo Bandello's 16th century book "Novelle," high-level courtesans would have six or seven lovers, each assigned to a different night of the week and each giving her a monthly "salary." This, of course, necessitated intricate scheduling and lover-shuffling in the days before cellphones and organizers.

To reward their patrons, courtesans would celebrate them in poetry and dedicate books to them, so "a volume of their poetry read like a who's who list of Venice," says Rosenthal. Literary and business skills were often passed from courtesan to courtesan in a kind of mentor relationship. "Franco was very interested in helping other women," says Rosenthal.

Being a courtesan allowed women to hold on to their sexuality while cultivating their minds. The only other women who were allowed to study were those in convents. "Being a courtesan let these women have more erudite lives than they normally would," says Rosenthal. And, "because a courtesan wasn't just arm candy," according to Rosenthal, she had to be learned. She was expected to attend her patrons' salons to entertain visiting politicians, and be a witty participant.

Unlike the courtesans of Italy and Greece, their Japanese counterparts -- whose heyday was the 18th century -- were only arm candy. "The whole point was for them to be amusing and decorative," says Elizabeth Sabato Swinton, curator of Asian art at Worcester Art Museum in Massachusetts. "They had absolutely no role in politics, and they were not respectable by any means. No one wanted their daughter to be a courtesan."

According to Swinton, the courting process was very ritualistic. Men would pay huge amounts of money just for an introduction, and they would have to follow an elaborate process of eating and drinking before they could even think about having sex. "You had to know the rules in order to play the game. It was all very stiff and formal," explains Swinton. And having a fat wad of cash would not guarantee sex. "If all you had was money, you would be considered a bore."

As well as influencing men using sex, courtesans also had enormous influence on fashion. In Japan from the 1600s to the late 1800s (the Edo period), courtesans invaded the drag venues where there was Kabuki theater. "The pleasure district was like Hollywood in the '30s and '40s," explains Swinton. "Courtesans had an entourage whenever they paraded in the streets, much like a queen bee." Women dressed like courtesans, in layers of embroidered silk robes, huge hair and extreme makeup that emphasized their eyes and mouths.

And just like Cher and her love affair with drag impersonators today, Swinton says, "Kabuki actors would frequently depict courtesans, and courtesans would model themselves after the male Kabukis. It was all this very weird role reversal."

Which was half of the fun. Part of a courtesan's mystery and intrigue was that the boundary between her and a noblewoman was murky. This was also done on purpose to avoid taxation. The Renaissance Italian government kept lists of courtesans in order to tax them, and, in some cities, they had to wear a yellow veil to identify themselves. But that didn't last very long. "Sometimes they would dress more demurely to throw men off," says Rosenthal. "They would also wear breeches under their skirts, because the whole idea of separating the legs was very risqué. They would also do it to attract men who had uh, tendencies for boys."

Courtesans' skills at cross-dressing did not go unnoticed by the Venetian government. Homosexuality was seen as a huge threat and punishable by death (men would be beheaded and their bodies burned), so Venetian officials often paid courtesans to "cure" homosexuals. Courtesans were encouraged to stand topless on the Ponte Della Tette, or Bridge of Tits, as it's still known today, to entice and convert suspected gays.

The homosexual angle was present in classical Greece (479-323 B.C.) as well. According to James Davidson, author of "Fishcakes and Courtesans," Greek courtesans (called hetaeras) enjoyed playing slippery games of identity, like their Italian counterparts did. They didn't want to be pinned down and subjected to taxation. (And since women couldn't own property in Greece, they lived "in the uncertain economy of the gift; jewels became an important part of a courtesan's 'portfolio.'") But it was also fun. "Somewhere between a wife and a common prostitute was the courtesan," says Davidson. "That was also part of the attraction -- you didn't know who was a courtesan and who wasn't." Or as he puts it so deliciously in his book, "There was only one division that really mattered: the division between Wives and the Rest."

Davidson talks about ancient Greek sex scandals with the ease and facility with which we discuss the latest dirt on Ben and Gwyneth. And his book probes an overlooked aspect of ancient Greek life -- heterosexual sex -- with a delightfully naughty relish. For example, when discussing how Pericles' famous funeral speech about democracy was rumored to be written by his courtesan, Aspasia, he explains it as being "a really bitchy dig at Pericles." Courtesans were everywhere in ancient Greece, says Davidson, which is "shocking because even to speak the name of a good woman was scandalous."

What we know about them comes from records of symposia, because "if you had a great party, you'd always stock the place with courtesans," Davidson writes. Hetaeras loved parody and satire, and for laughs at parties they would take "high falutin' things and make them obscene and funny." Their witticisms were collected and put into verse, and they were also the inspiration for countless plays, speeches and works of art.

Davidson also chronicles how courtesans helped inspire ancient sex manuals, which included positions like "Lion on the Cheese Grater" which, as he says, "leaves us none the wiser."

The most distinguished courtesan and the "cleverest manipulator" of ancient Greece was Phryne, rumored to be the model for the sculpture of Venus. She, like many courtesans, was constantly popping up in court for causing trouble. One of the most famous trials of ancient Greece -- and the inspiration for dozens of paintings -- was Phryne's trial for introducing false gods. Her boyfriend Hyperides defended her, and when he saw he wasn't making headway with the jurors, he "reached over and exposed her breasts, filling the jurors with religious awe." She was acquitted.

Phryne also became incredibly wealthy because of her associations with men. When the city of Thebes was razed by the Macedons, she offered to pay for the city wall to be rebuilt as long as the citizens provided this inscription: "Alexander may have knocked it down, but Phryne the hetaera got it back up again."

Luce's method of seducing and dazzling men was quite different from Harriman's. They were both ferociously ambitious, and masters at dishing up sparkling conversation, but comparisons end there. "They targeted very different types of men," says Morris. "Pamela was a nurturer. She always wanted to marry her lovers, while Clare got what she wanted and left."

And Luce was not the great hostess that Harriman was, says Marie Brenner, author of "Great Dames: What I Learned From Older Women." "She was more like a Sherman tank. She'd do things like serve lettuce to the men at lunch because that's all she wanted to eat, or refuse to serve wine to the women but pour herself a glass." Martha Stewart would disapprove, but then again, she's no courtesan. Or is she? Are there any modern-day contenders to the legacy of Harriman and Luce? While some would argue that women no longer need to act like courtesans, there are still women who think that the fastest -- and juiciest -- rise to power is through a man.

Washington is still mourning Harriman's death. Her closest replacement is Sally Quinn, the former Washington Post writer turned socialite. But she's a pale version of the classic courtesan. As one political insider sniffs, "The grande dames only go to her house because of Ben Bradlee." The Beltway has also turned a cold shoulder to Quinn since she wrote a self-righteous article blasting President Clinton for his affair with Monica Lewinsky. (It's no secret that when Quinn was a junior staffer at the Washington Post, she began an affair with Bradlee, 25 years her senior, who eventually left his wife for her.) The press erupted, and trashed her. In 1998, during a live C-Span interview, a caller confronted Quinn, saying, "Take a look at your own life. A lot of people said you slept your way to the top." Quinn turned purple. One Washington insider says gleefully, "My friends say that moment was worth the entire year's price of cable."

Other names that are tossed around include Sen. Dianne Feinstein, fundraiser Georgette Mossbacher, Cristyne Lategano, Katrina vanden Heuvel and political pundit (and Salon columnist) Arianna Huffington. Huffington is the most probable contender. She's smart, sassy and attractive and has a sexy Greek accent, which are all excellent criteria for courtesanship. "She's certainly brilliant and among the ranks of such women as Madame de Pompadour," says Kevin Chaffee, Washington Times social editor. "She's more intelligent than most of the men she's been associated with, with the possible exception of Bernard Levin."

Joe Eszterhas dubbed Huffington "the sorceress" in "American Rhapsody" and Al Frankel jokingly calls her "the evil but beautiful Arianna Huffington."

Others would argue that she lacks the most important asset -- multiple husbands. "She's just a one-off," says Ogden, referring to her former husband, Michael Huffington. "She didn't have the number of men Pamela did, or the number of positions."

One woman who does have it all is Democratic fundraiser and serial wife Patricia Duff. She has been called "an enchantress," "exquisite in a Grace Kelly way," "luminous," a "man magnet" and a "femme fatale" by journalists. Washington Post columnist Richard Cohen said of their first meeting: "She was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen, maybe after the Grand Canyon." A former husband said, "She can be the single most charming being in the history of the world."

Like Harriman and Luce, Duff gained her political power through her associations with wealthy and powerful men and, like Harriman, she never had the misfortune of falling in love with a poor man. She studied international relations at Georgetown, and later took a job at the House Select Committee on Assassinations.

From there, she worked on two endeavors: collecting powerful husbands and gaining political power. Her first marriage was to a high school sweetheart. The second was to Washington lawyer Dan Duff. After that marriage dissolved, Duff went to Los Angeles to become an actress, where she met studio head Mike Medavoy and lured him away from his wife. She later dumped him to chase after billionaire Ron Perelman, the Revlon executive and New York's richest man, and the two married in 1995.

The Perelmans had a very ugly spat at the 1996 Democratic Convention and Perelman filed for divorced shortly afterward. (The marriage lasted only 18 months.) But the union left Duff with $30 million and an impressive political track record. While with Perelman, Duff became the executive director of the Women's Leadership Forum and co-chaired fundraising for the 1996 Clinton-Gore campaign. Right now, Duff's political actions have taken a back seat as she battles Perelman for custody of their 4-year-old daughter, but she still seems to be on the prowl for power. She has most recently been linked to Sen. Robert Torricelli, D-N.J., so she hasn't forgotten her old ways.

While some, like Brenner, consider these sexy and powerful women to be proto-feminists, others, like conservative babe/pundit Ann Coulter, are appalled by their behavior. "Women like Pamela Harriman and Patricia Duff are basically Anna Nicole Smith from the waist down," she spits out. "Let's just call it for what it is. They're jewels Lots of women in that era got ahead without having to sleep with men ... Speaking as someone who's been accused of sleeping with their male bosses -- and I never have -- I resent courtesans like Cristyne Lategano."

Coulter says, "Clare Booth Luce is a true feminist. She's brilliant, satirical, snobby and fabulous. She wrote 'The Women,' which is still being produced today. What did Pamela Harriman ever write?"

And as for the accusation that Clare zeroed in on Henry Luce, Coulter says that's crap. "The reason that Clare ended up marrying a powerful man is because she was a hot commodity herself. Who was she going to end up with, the paper boy?" The same goes for Huffington, she says. "Even though Arianna has gone to the dark side politically, she was accomplished before she ever met Michael Huffington. She could have married anybody."

Politics aside, Brenner has a hilariously practical take on modern-day courtesans. "These women didn't waste their sexuality. Instead of sleeping with some jerk and complaining about bad sex, they sexed someone powerful."