Pennsylvania Senator Edgar Cowan, who thought it was dangerous to give freedmen the vote, and who was no particular friend of women, immediately stepped forward with an amendment that he hoped would defeat the bill.33 His proposal struck out the word “male,” changing S.1 into universal suffrage legislation that he assumed would meet an early death—and perhaps humiliate the Radicals.
The Cowan amendment created an uproar. It also produced an unexpected opening for the discussion of woman suffrage, a cause that had been shunted aside by the Radicals in spite of lobbying by activist women. Seeing this opportunity, local suffragists, including Belva, visited the Capitol, where they encouraged members of Congress to speak out in support of women’s right to vote. Cowan’s colleagues also stepped forward, happy to denounce his “prank.” Rhode Island Republican Henry Anthony said that he supposed “the Senator from Pennsylvania introduced this amendment rather as a satire upon the bill itself, or if he had any serious intention it was only a mischievous one to injure the bill.”34 “Injury,” of course, was exactly what Cowan had in mind. He had not anticipated, however, that his proposal would unleash three days of earnest debate on the issue of women’s rights. On December 11, 12, and 13, a handful of senators rose to praise the talents of women leaders, to give lessons in political theory (citing John Stuart Mill and Herbert Spencer), and to assert that women were every bit as entitled as men to the natural right to vote. Several representatives challenged the idea that politics must be a rude and disorderly sport, insisting that women’s involvement would reduce strife. Without meaning to, Cowan had ignited one of the earliest congressional deliberations on voting rights for women.
Senators opposed to woman suffrage responded with standard arguments, noting woman’s failure “to bear the bayonet” and the desirability, in a republic, of making the family rather than the individual the “foundation upon which to rest suffrage.”35 One opponent argued poetically that “the domestic altar is a sacred fane [temple] where woman is the high and officiating priestess” whose need for purity required that she be “separated from the exercise of suffrage and from all those stern and contaminating and demoralizing duties that devolves upon the hardier sex—men.”36 He warned against making “noble woman a partisan, a political hack.”37 Other senators condemned Cowan for distracting them from the “pressing necessity” of protecting freedmen. When the presiding officer finally called for a vote, nine members supported the universal suffrage amendment, while thirty-seven cast their ballots in opposition. Having held Belva and her confederates at bay, the Senate recessed for the Christmas holiday. After the New Year, the members reconvened, with both houses of Congress taking up S.1 in its original form. The legislation passed quickly, and was repassed over the veto of the president, enfranchising “every male person over the age of 21” in the District while making no change in the political status of women.38 Despite the defeat, Belva said that the amendment had served “a good purpose for all disfranchised classes, as [it] called out a notable debate.”39
Belva and her colleagues were both maddened by the vote and optimistic. Full of fight, after watching the newly enfranchised freedmen vote at a May 1867 District election, a small group decided to organize in behalf of D.C. woman suffrage. Late in the spring Belva and Griffing, among others, met at the home of James and Julia Holmes and founded the Universal Franchise Association. The vote on S.1, as well as the recently broken alliance with the abolitionist movement, had convinced them that in order to recruit more supporters, and win legislative battles, they needed to hold regular public meetings where universal suffrage could be defended.
This decision was not made lightly. Open meetings courted ridicule and assault. Animosity toward women’s rights was intense. Not infrequently a “woman shrieker” speaking in public required police protection and even then, according to one journalist, “she was in danger of being bombarded with addled hen fruit, and very sure to hear the world’s estimate in language profane and nasty.”40 Tough and resolute, the UFA women, with their male supporters, faced their fears and made their plans public. At the first association meeting they discussed how to reopen the question of woman suffrage in the District, and announced support for the work of the American Equal Rights Association (AERA), a newly formed national organization whose members were campaigning for a constitutional amendment that would guarantee universal suffrage.
In 1867 37-year-old Belva McNall made the acquaintance of a 65-year-old gentleman. His name was Ezekiel Lockwood and, in less than a year, he would become Belva’s second husband.
Lockwood was a Washington dentist whose advertisements promised “Teeth extracted without pain.”41 He belonged to the E Street (Thirteenth Street) Baptist Church and, for some time, had also worked as a lay minister.42 Beyond that, he was a mysterious figure. Forty-five years after their marriage, Belva told her nephew’s wife that she knew little about Dr. Lockwood’s life: “I cannot give a very comprehensive account,” she said, “and his last son died 2 years ago.”43 Pension records show that Ezekiel was born in 1802 in Jay, Essex County, New York. Like Belva, he came from a farm family. In the 1820s he followed his older brother James west and later won appointment as the postmaster in Galena, Illinois.44 He and James bought land.45 There was a wife, who died, and decades of middle-aged life about which he was silent. In February 1862, he joined the Union Army as chaplain to the 2nd Regiment, D.C. Infantry. Wartime records describe a decent but aging soldier who won praise for his “comforting words” at the second battle of Bull Run and the battle of Antietam.46
Belva and Ezekiel left little record of their courtship. They met at the Union League Hall where Belva and Lura lived and conducted their classes. Like Belva, Ezekiel earned income as a rental agent. Courting was a simple matter as he boarded a few blocks away, near his Pennsylvania Avenue dental office. Few of their friends were aware of the courtship until the couple sent out wedding invitations.47 In an autobiographical sketch, Belva introduced the fact of her second marriage humorously, perhaps apologetically: “In the midst of these labors [reading legal treatises], I committed the indiscretion so common to the women of this country, and, after fifteen years and more of widowhood, married the Rev. Ezekiel Lockwood.”48
The couple wed on March 11, 1868, in an evening ceremony held at the Union League building. Two local clergymen, the Reverend Dr. George W. Sampson, president of Columbian College, and his colleague, the Reverend Dr. Abraham D. Gillette, had been invited. Each cleric offered prayers and comments before Gillette performed the marriage service. Margaret Renshaw, a widow who lived at Twelfth Street, served as Belva’s matron of honor; Dr. O. A. Daily, a fellow dentist, joined Ezekiel as best man. Lura and her cousins, the Richardsons, stood in line to congratulate the couple, along with the many friends who had been invited for an evening of food and music.49 A neighbor described Ezekiel as “a spare man and tall, quite aged yet spry.”50 That he did not shine when compared with his wife is suggested by the later comment of passing acquaintance James Densmore, who portrayed Ezekiel as “a man much her inferior in force and ability.”51
Ezekiel was sixty-six when they married, twenty-eight years older than his bride (and four years older than her father). He was a pious man, which pleased Belva, who attended church regularly and supported temperance. He was hard working and cultivated opportunity. In addition to managing the League Hall, and practicing dentistry, sometime in the late 1860s Ezekiel joined the corps of men who, at the conclusion of the Civil War, offered their services as veteran-pension claim agents.52 Shortly after this, he won a public commission as notary public. Although modest, this was the kind of striving that Belva expected and admired. It was also work that could be shared with a wife.
Before their marriage Belva told Ezekiel that she was bored with teaching. She had been reading law books at night and hoped for a new occupation. Although careful not to say as much in public, she imagined a jointly operated claims office with Ezekiel