Washington, DC, 1863
The President of the United States was glad to escape the Oval Office. He retreated to the comfort of his private parlor; his wife was waiting for him there. He sat in his favorite chair and picked up The Atlantic. It was a relief to read a magazine rather than a budget report or some other red-tape rubbish.
"One of your former beaus has an essay in here," he informed the First Lady.
She looked up from her embroidery. "Which one, my dear? There were several gentlemen who tried to sweep me off my feet before you succeeded."
"Abraham Lincoln," President Stephen A. Douglas replied.
"Abe? What is he blathering about now? Abolition, socialism, what?" asked Mary Todd Douglas.
"Women's suffrage," President Douglas replied.
"I suppose that makes a certain amount of sense, given that he and Tilly have only girls." Mary Todd Douglas turned her head and glanced at the daguerreotype of her family on the mantelpiece. Three strong sons, two fine daughters. Matilda EdwardsLincoln had not been blessed with sons.
"Trade unions, abolitionism, women's suffrage -- it's no wonder Lincoln's political career ground to a halt in Washington." President Douglas turned the page.
"Oregon, dear," Mary Todd Douglas corrected him quietly.
The president looked up.
"Abe was governor of the Oregon Territory, not Washington."
Douglas shrugged. From Washington, DC, there was little difference between Washington Territory and Oregon, beyond the fact one was a state and one was a territory. Both were far from civilization and full of trees. His former colleague's political career had ended abruptly after his term as territorial governor had ended. While Lincoln was still respected by the Whig Party, his essays read and discussed across the nation, he himself had not been considered a serious candidate for higher office in years. Since Oregon had become a state, Lincoln had run for and lost elections to the governorship, the senate, and the state legislature. He seemed destined to remain a lawyer who dabbled in poetry and political essays.
The president read aloud, "Even those of us who favor the right and privilege of voting being granted to the ladies do not agree as to how the thing should be managed. A young journalist of my acquaintance has suggested that women who are as clever at forty as their sons at twenty should be granted the vote. Of course, he also suggests that this might keep most ladies from voting, as they would be unwilling to admit to such an advanced age." He chuckled softly. "Our neighbors to the north permit women in some provinces to vote in local elections, and some have suggested this as a good preliminary step for us to follow." He read silently for a few minutes. "Abe also suggests that female property-owners vote, on the grounds they pay taxes, 'remembering that 'no taxation without representation' was one of the guiding principles of our forefathers'. "
"I must confess there is a certain amount of logic in that," Mary muttered.
President Douglas raised a disapproving eyebrow.
"History, I should have said, rather than logic," she corrected herself.
"Abe goes on about history: he claims women voted in New Jersey could vote until 1807, and makes allusions to Mercy Warren and Abigail Adams. Typical of the man, he always liked to throw in something to show off his book-learning."
Mary nodded. Large self-taught, Abe was vain of his education.
"Now he's quoting Robert Burns." Humming "Green Grow the Rashes," Douglas read on silently. He chuckled softly. "Now he's pointing out that female voters would make elections cheaper, as candidates wouldn't need to buy as much beer and corn liquor to entice voters; they'd buy tea instead. You would never be interested in anything so vulgar as female suffrage, would you, Mary?"
A wistful look in her appeared in her eyes. To vote herself, rather than to urge other women to urge their husbands to vote for her husband. To have power in her own right, instead of being the power behind the throne. Being a political hostess was all she had ever wanted or known ... Robert Todd's daughter, Ninian Edwards' sister-in-law, Stephen Douglas' wife, in the not too distant future, she would be known as Robert Douglas' mother. To be a politician herself ... 'twas a wild, impossible dream. She took a deep breath. She schooled her features to an expression of complacency. "Of course not, dear."
The President of the United States was glad to escape the Oval Office. He retreated to the comfort of his private parlor; his wife was waiting for him there. He sat in his favorite chair and picked up The Atlantic. It was a relief to read a magazine rather than a budget report or some other red-tape rubbish.
"One of your former beaus has an essay in here," he informed the First Lady.
She looked up from her embroidery. "Which one, my dear? There were several gentlemen who tried to sweep me off my feet before you succeeded."
"Abraham Lincoln," President Stephen A. Douglas replied.
"Abe? What is he blathering about now? Abolition, socialism, what?" asked Mary Todd Douglas.
"Women's suffrage," President Douglas replied.
"I suppose that makes a certain amount of sense, given that he and Tilly have only girls." Mary Todd Douglas turned her head and glanced at the daguerreotype of her family on the mantelpiece. Three strong sons, two fine daughters. Matilda EdwardsLincoln had not been blessed with sons.
"Trade unions, abolitionism, women's suffrage -- it's no wonder Lincoln's political career ground to a halt in Washington." President Douglas turned the page.
"Oregon, dear," Mary Todd Douglas corrected him quietly.
The president looked up.
"Abe was governor of the Oregon Territory, not Washington."
Douglas shrugged. From Washington, DC, there was little difference between Washington Territory and Oregon, beyond the fact one was a state and one was a territory. Both were far from civilization and full of trees. His former colleague's political career had ended abruptly after his term as territorial governor had ended. While Lincoln was still respected by the Whig Party, his essays read and discussed across the nation, he himself had not been considered a serious candidate for higher office in years. Since Oregon had become a state, Lincoln had run for and lost elections to the governorship, the senate, and the state legislature. He seemed destined to remain a lawyer who dabbled in poetry and political essays.
The president read aloud, "Even those of us who favor the right and privilege of voting being granted to the ladies do not agree as to how the thing should be managed. A young journalist of my acquaintance has suggested that women who are as clever at forty as their sons at twenty should be granted the vote. Of course, he also suggests that this might keep most ladies from voting, as they would be unwilling to admit to such an advanced age." He chuckled softly. "Our neighbors to the north permit women in some provinces to vote in local elections, and some have suggested this as a good preliminary step for us to follow." He read silently for a few minutes. "Abe also suggests that female property-owners vote, on the grounds they pay taxes, 'remembering that 'no taxation without representation' was one of the guiding principles of our forefathers'. "
"I must confess there is a certain amount of logic in that," Mary muttered.
President Douglas raised a disapproving eyebrow.
"History, I should have said, rather than logic," she corrected herself.
"Abe goes on about history: he claims women voted in New Jersey could vote until 1807, and makes allusions to Mercy Warren and Abigail Adams. Typical of the man, he always liked to throw in something to show off his book-learning."
Mary nodded. Large self-taught, Abe was vain of his education.
"Now he's quoting Robert Burns." Humming "Green Grow the Rashes," Douglas read on silently. He chuckled softly. "Now he's pointing out that female voters would make elections cheaper, as candidates wouldn't need to buy as much beer and corn liquor to entice voters; they'd buy tea instead. You would never be interested in anything so vulgar as female suffrage, would you, Mary?"
A wistful look in her appeared in her eyes. To vote herself, rather than to urge other women to urge their husbands to vote for her husband. To have power in her own right, instead of being the power behind the throne. Being a political hostess was all she had ever wanted or known ... Robert Todd's daughter, Ninian Edwards' sister-in-law, Stephen Douglas' wife, in the not too distant future, she would be known as Robert Douglas' mother. To be a politician herself ... 'twas a wild, impossible dream. She took a deep breath. She schooled her features to an expression of complacency. "Of course not, dear."