The Clinton marriage is famously, ineffably complex. But presidential marriages are almost always about more than matters of the heart. By the time they enter the White House, a presidential couple have generally forged a partnership that is both political and personal. Once there the First Lady has a dual role to play: internal and external. Successful First Ladies must balance them; if one part overwhelms the other, the result can be disastrous. Take the Wilsons--Woodrow and his second wife Edith, whose 1915 courtship and marriage were the stuff of a romantic novel but catastrophic for the country. After Wilson was felled by a massive stroke in 1919, Edith kept him in office as a form of therapy--she thought a resignation would quicken his death--concealing the truth from the world. Half-paralyzed and nearly blind, Wilson became more rigid in a way that would affect history, refusing to compromise in order to gain Senate approval for American membership in his own creation, the League of Nations. Edith Wilson pulled off a masterful charade for the benefit of Congress and the country, becoming in the process what some called the "28th and a half" President. She skillfully arranged an early version of a photo op for a congressional delegation, propping up her inert, bedridden husband with pillows in a darkened sickroom. It was all to convince the public that the President was still in charge. Although she acted out of love, she damaged both the country and Wilson's legacy. "Woodrow Wilson was first my beloved husband whose life I was trying to save," she said with pride of what she called her stewardship; "after that he was the President of the United States." Theirs was a White House union based entirely--and tragically--on matters of the heart.
The Roosevelts represent the opposite pole. Their marriage had perhaps not enough heart. Eleanor was the "eyes and ears" of her wheelchair-bound husband, his pipeline to African Americans, Jews and other disfranchised people. Her middle-aged, maternal image gave the New Deal its most compassionate face. In 1940, F.D.R. dispatched Eleanor to the Democratic Convention to quell a revolt against his choice of political outsider Henry Wallace as running mate. "This," she told the convention, "is no ordinary time," and the force of her presence ended the crisis.
Comparisons between Eleanor Roosevelt and Hillary Clinton are unavoidable and sometimes startling, though inexact. Eleanor was famously insecure, and Hillary conveys quite the opposite impression. But like Mrs. Clinton, Mrs. Roosevelt needed time to assimilate her nearly impossible job description. She too wanted a "real job" and did not always accept the fact that being First Lady, however ill defined, is a job in itself. Eleanor took a position as assistant director of the Office of Civilian Defense. The press went after her, and F.D.R.'s enemies attacked too--calling her the O.C. Diva, forcing her to resign.
But Eleanor was unwilling to retreat to an inoffensive corner of the White House. Zealous in pushing her causes, she would interrupt Franklin's sacred cocktail hour with a sheaf of policy papers. When, in the last months of her husband's life, Eleanor still pursued her own agenda for good government--berating F.D.R. for the appointment of two Assistant Secretaries of State whom she considered reactionaries--his aides tried to limit contact between the sick, weary President and his wife. Of course she had her reasons for disengaging emotionally from the marriage--primarily the discovery in 1918 of Franklin's affair with her social secretary. Today we would call the Roosevelts a dysfunctional couple. Yet they constructed rich and varied lives for themselves, filling the void in their marriage with other relationships. But such a union would not be possible today. No present-day occupants of the White House could live as freely and creatively as the Roosevelts did during their 12-year tenure and keep their private life--and wounds--private until years after their death.
As an "external" First Lady, Jacqueline Kennedy was in her own way almost as successful as Eleanor Roosevelt. Her sense of history and style captivated the nation and put a stamp on her husband's presidency. Her unforgettable performance as the nation's widow eased us through the nightmare of November 1963. It was only much later that we learned of the harsher truths behind the glittering facade of the Kennedy White House.