Eleanor Roosevelt is an example that, no matter what anybody says, people can change for the better. And Blanche Wiesen Cook is the biographer every public figure should be so lucky to have.
She doesn’t just tell us about Eleanor, she also puts her life in context, dispels pervasive myths, presents possibilities, challenges the reader’s assumptions, and gives just enough details to make the narrative come to life without being tedious. Her writing is so absorbing that it reads more like a coming-of-age novel than a biography.
The reason I didn’t give it five stars is not the book itself, but the subject. It charts Eleanor’s early personal and political development, but I wasn’t as impressed as I thought I’d be. For example, Cook repeats over and over what a great teacher Marie Souvestre was, and how much she influenced her students, especially Eleanor. She supposedly encouraged them to think for themselves, to challenge authority. But a few chapters later, Eleanor is quoted as saying that she had never given serious thought to women’s suffrage until her husband expressed his support in 1911, and then decided that if Franklin supported it, then she did too. Upon reading this, I asked myself: What the hell did Marie Souvestre teach Eleanor Roosevelt? Votes for women was one of the most prominent issues of the day, one that affected them directly, but it seems that neither the teacher nor the student ever discussed it. And where is that independent thinking if she simply adopted her husband’s opinions instead of forming her own?
The problem is that Eleanor remained on the sidelines until she became First Lady. During the First World War, Franklin was Assistant Secretary of the Navy while Eleanor became a pacifist. Unlike her contemporaries, her support for feminism and world peace was vague and theoretical in nature. She didn’t participate in the activism of the likes of Jane Addams, Carrie Chapman Catt, and Lillian Wald.
Eleanor was in Washington when the brutal Red Summer of 1919 occurred, but she wrote about it as though it were a minor inconvenience. The ardent support she showed for civil rights later in life is not present either. On the contrary, her anti-Semitism made me wince, and Cook’s explanation -almost excuse- didn’t sit well with me. When Franklin became Governor of New York, she wrote to him advising to fire Belle Moskowitz and Robert Moses, who were an integral part of Al Smith’s team, his predecessor and ally. Cook writes that her “distrust of Moskowitz was motivated more by political turf than bigotry,” and that “her prejudice was impersonal and casual, a frayed raiment of her generation, class, and culture.” But her letter, in which she presents Moses and Moskowitz as stereotypical greedy, power-hungry Jews, tells another story:
“By all signs I think Belle and Bob Moses mean to cling to you and you will wake up to find R.M. Secretary of State and B.M. running Democratic Publicity at her old stand unless you take a firm stand. Gosh, the race has nerves of iron and tentacles of steel!”
This is how the Nazis talked about the Jews. But the words are coming from a woman whose name went on to become synonymous with human rights. So what does one do with Eleanor Roosevelt after that?
I will finish the trilogy, if only to find the woman who was called the First Lady of the World.
***
Where the book truly shines is in shedding light on Eleanor’s personal life. After leaving Allenswood School to make her debut in society at her grandmother’s orders, she maintained a correspondence with Marie Souvestre that lasted until the latter’s death in 1905. The teacher’s letters are full of love, concern, and wisdom:
“From this very minute, when I am writing to you, life, your life, which is entirely new and entirely different, and in several respects entirely contradictory, is going to take you and drag you into its turmoil. Protect yourself to some extent against it, my dear child, protect yourself above all from the standpoint of your health... Give some of your energy, but not all, to worldly pleasures which are going to beckon you. And even when success comes, as I am sure it will, bear in mind that there are more quiet and enviable joys than to be among the most sought-after women at a ball...”
Marie Souvestre was dying of cancer when Eleanor married Franklin, and thus was unable to attend the wedding. But she did send a telegram with a single word: “BONHEUR!” For the rest of her life, Eleanor would keep a portrait of Mademoiselle Souvestre and carry her letters with her, just as she did with her father’s, who had died when she was a child.
Many years later, Eleanor’s friend Joseph Lash wrote in one of his books about her that she was ashamed of Marie Souvestre, presumably because she was a lesbian. The idea is almost funny in its irony, considering how popular Eleanor was with her fellow students at Allenswood (an all-girls school), and how many of her closest friends in adulthood were lesbians -Esther Lape, Elizabeth Read, Nancy Cook, Marion Dickerman, and of course, Lorena Hickok. Blanche Wiesen Cook makes it clear that Eleanor never repudiated her beloved teacher:
“Eleanor Roosevelt never turned away from the memory of Marie Souvestre. Her influence and spirit burned deeply within ER, and her teachings continually pointed in the direction of what was possible by way of independence, self-fulfillment, public activity, and human understanding.”
The chapters about her relationships with Earl Miller and Lorena Hickock -that were decidedly romantic and possibly sexual- are also beautifully written. Here are some of my favourite passages:
“What then is the nature of romance, of love and passion? What are the varieties of lust and love, of physical and emotional contentment, excitement and satisfaction, in a woman’s life? Historically, in the courtly love story between the squire and his Lady, the intensities of passionate romance dance outside or just beyond the fields of lust. In this very modern saga, did lust remain on the outskirts of love? There are many ways in which a fully eroticized romance between two intimate and caring adults may emerge. ER had a private life. She risked censure and criticism on a daily basis -in order to be alone with her chosen friends, to fulfill her needs and wants as she experienced and understood them. It is obvious that ER and Earl Miller had a romantic friendship, a life-enhancing relationship. Whatever rules they agreed upon, they were two mutually consenting adults who were engaged in a discreet relationship that took them frequently into rustic cabins, high atop the Adirondack Mountains, and occasionally into remote seaside villages along the East Coast. There they sought privacy, relaxation, and comfort and did - whatever they agreed to do.”
“The fact is that ER and Hick were not involved in a schoolgirl ‘smash.’ They did not meet in a nineteenth-century storybook, or swoon unrequitedly upon a nineteenth-century campus. They were neither saints nor adolescents. Nor were they virgins or mermaids. They were two adult women, in the prime of their lives, committed to working out a relationship under very difficult circumstances. They had each already lived several other lives. They knew the score. They appreciated the risks and the dangers. They had both experienced pain in loving. They never thought it would be easy or smooth. They gave each other pleasure and comfort, trust and love. They touched each other deeply, loved profoundly, and moved on. They sought to avoid gossip. And, for the most part, they succeeded. They wrote to each other exactly what they meant to write. Sigmund Freud notwithstanding: A cigar may not always be a cigar, but ‘the north-east corner of your mouth against my lips’ is always the northeast corner.”
Blanche Wiesen Cook said in an interview that in many ways this is a book about self-esteem. Eleanor Roosevelt travelled a long, perilous and often lonely road towards fulfillment. The journey only ended with her death in 1962. She suffered from frequent bouts of depression, but in spite of that -or maybe because of it-, she did things she was afraid to do: she forced herself to get out into the world, to connect with others, to be curious, to do challenging work, and in doing so, she became an inspiration for many, a woman for all seasons.