Mary Lincoln’s “insanity case” has been discussed at length, but I’d like to give my take on it. This isn’t about “taking sides,” just understanding the actions of the people involved. I assume readers have some familiarity with these events—if not, the two best books to read are:
Jason Emerson, Mary Lincoln's Insanity Case (Urbana, Chicago and Springfield: University of Illinois Press, 2012)
Mark E. Neely, Jr. and Gerald McMurtry, The Insanity File: The Case of Mary Todd Lincoln (Carbondale and Edwardsville: Southern Illinois University Press, 1986)
Additionally, many of the original “insanity file” documents can be viewed online here.
While a full understanding will never be reached, I think there are some things worth clarifying. Here is part of a discarded book chapter that breaks down what I think the basic story was. I will expand on it in later posts, particularly the details of the trial. Questions/comments welcome!
The correspondence from 1875 and 1876, when Mary was under a conservatorship but lived at their home, makes it seem like the Edwardses are oblivious or in denial. I think they had simply learned the meaning of resignation, as I explained in my post about their daughter, Julia Edwards Baker.
More than that, she had lived with them for a few years before her marriage, and they had long been familiar with Mary’s tendencies. They seemed to think them little changed from decades before, and did not see her recent behavior, in context, as that big a deal. But her lifelong behavior made clear she could make a big deal when she wanted to.
While Elizabeth tried to keep up the lovely and deferential approach that distinguished her from the rest of the Todds, her firm opinions are manifest in her letters to Robert. As soon as Mary came to live with her, she started giving him unmissable hints that the situation was not one in which it was necessary or wise to exercise control. It wasn’t that she questioned his motives or could not understand where he was coming from. She sympathized, but saw that he had made a very bad call—or, perhaps, that if he had made a right one at the time, this was not going to work. And it was going to get a lot worse.
Less than two months after Mary’s arrival, she wrote Robert her opinion that Mary was sane—and, in fact, better than ever. She was more reasonable and gentle than before, and “bears up with great patience under the oppressive weight of restraint, which to her proud spirit, is very galling - awaiting the time, when the right of person and property, will be restored to her.”[1] Elizabeth wanted the entire thing undone as soon as possible, as she knew it was bad when Mary Lincoln was “galled.”
She explained away Mary’s erratic behavior last spring, saying that it was an aberration caused by fever and sleeping medication. It bothered her that Mary made unnecessary purchases, but Mary was staying within her means, and that was better than a lot of people Elizabeth knew. “Whatever her habits are in that respect, I would advise that you hereafter assume indifference,”—that way, he could “quietly, and unconsciously to her,” keep an eye on the situation[2]—something she had probably mastered. As for admonishing Mary on this point, “she is too much herself, to allow many suggestions.”[3]
He apparently did not get the hint, because a week later, she said that after a careful reading of his latest letter, “with much reflection,” she reiterated her opinion Robert should give her back her property--because Mary would not stand for anything else.[4] He had undoubtedly given her the same list of reasonable concerns he had held for some time. She ran through them, giving a perfunctory acknowledgement and unconvincing dismissal. She would not spend all her money, she would give her bonds to Bunn, she was not a spiritualist[5]—“I perfectly understand you, with regard to her reckless expenditure of money, for the purpose, of adding to the contents of her trunks - It has always been a prominent trait in her character, to accumulate a large amount of clothing, and now that she has the means, it seems to be, the only available pleasure. Is it not best, that she should be indulged in it, as a matter of expediency?”[6]
She had brushed everything aside to get to her real point: “There is no evidence of derangement at this time, that would justify confinement in an asylum - and to impose restraint of any kind, would involve more contention, than could be endured.”[7] It simply did not matter what Mary was up to, because there was no way to address it. Elizabeth did not know her future movements, but advised him not to interfere in her travels, and “become indifferent” to what he could not control. “Excuse me for making such suggestions,” but her life had taught her that it was best to let others alone “when you have done what you could.”[8] Indeed, she explained, more than once, “I would gladly look forward to the pleasure of protecting her for life.”[9]
Taking care of others was the only thing that gave her life meaning. Urging Mary to come back from Pau, she had written she could have the whole upper floor to herself. “If you will not take the two front rooms I will refresh the long room, for your sleeping room and set apart the other two rear rooms for your baggage . . . nothing that I can do, shall be spared to make you as comfortable, as in my power.”[10]
After again hearing from Robert about her spending habits, she manifested “surprise” that Mary was still shopping, as she had just bought new water proof shawls.[11] In any case, she would be happy to take care of Mary. “It is only, when discussing the restraints imposed upon her that she exhibits the slightest impatience,” and she thought none should be implemented.[12] They were trying to control her expenses, but at a recent charity fair, “Mrs. Lamon caused a sofa cushion, flowers &c to be made a complimentary present to her - It gratified her, and in response, she enclosed $25 for the benefit of that charity.”[13] That was just what she needed—a sofa cushion.
The Edwardses were not alone, nor were they mainly confused, flaky, or erratic—her Springfield friends were stuck, and were trying to delicately get Robert to back off without disrespecting or hurting him. The way I see it is that none of the parties involved thought they had the evidence to meet Illinois’ involuntary commitment standard, the strictest in the country, by the deliberate choice of its citizens. Everyone was deeply concerned and monitoring the situation to see what would happen, and then Leonard Swett, in Chicago with Robert, apparently perceived an urgent crisis and pulled the trigger.[14] If Robert was able to think straight at all during this period, he would not have been able to do so in the two days between Swett’s decision to move forward and the trial he arranged. Everyone else who had been advising Robert had gone home to other places in Illinois during this period.
It is not true that neither doctors nor the public could see a middle ground between sane and insane in 1875. Anyone with eyes can see that the degree, duration, and manifestation of mental illness varies. The only time a hard line needs to be drawn is when someone wants to take legal action. Illinois defined legal insanity very narrowly, and Swett knew this well. He was a top criminal defense attorney in Chicago (and longtime advisor to Lincoln).
So, he had approached several leading mental health experts, and had been discussing with them.[15] Until three day before the trial, Swett was still reflecting on whether they had any case at all—if the doctors would even put in writing that she was insane. He suggested Robert reach out to the doctors himself to see what they would say. He suggested Robert reach out to John T. Stuart to get his thoughts. He wrote to David Davis to get his opinions on moving forward. But the very next day, as Swett later told Davis, “certain facts developed,” and he decided he could not even wait to see what any of these men advised.[16]
While for unknown reasons he clearly thought her condition suddenly dangerous, he was clearly not confident he had the evidence, and even with a handpicked jury and a minimal defense, he needed something that would justify them, especially because the press and public would expect it.
Reflecting on his conversation with doctors about the possibilities, but unsure of their professional judgment, he found something to hang the case on—jumping out the window to escape an imagined fire in a delusional state. This danger was the crux of the entire case, and everything else rested on it. The only other thing was to establish that her delusions were based in mental illness, which was easy. Because the fire allegation went directly to the point of danger, which the statute was designed to address, they could hang a respectable case on it without any false testimony.
Ninian Edwards’ equivocating letters to Robert, while seemingly erratic, have a clear thread of awkward but intentional evasion running through them. He knew that if he, John T. Stuart, and their Springfield circle had told Robert back in September that Swett had screwed up, Robert would have seen this as very reproachful towards himself, and have been devastated.[17] They did not doubt his motives, and understood he was distraught. They were trying to protect him. But, mostly lawyers, they also knew that Swett had inexplicably built a house of cards in his apparently panic-driven zeal, and could not tell Mary or others with a straight face that she was currently legally insane.
They all understood the crux of the case that Swett presented was that doctors had warned she might jump out a window.[18] This was not one of their many real fears. The only defense anyone had to mount was to ask the doctor(s) one question on cross-examination: what did she do when she was under a delusion about fire? She ran towards to rescue her property before the fire reached it.[19] She ran towards imagined impending fires instead of escaping imagined building fires—that is why she thought her bonds should be on her person.
Speaking of her condition a few months later, Robert noted that he had heard nothing since her commitment about her speaking with invisible people or imagining “great fires.” “It was on account of this latter that the physicians feared danger to her person . . . that in endeavoring to escape from an imaginary fire in the house she might injure herself.”[20] He consistently focused on the physicians’ fears and transferred responsibility to them, and, as an intellectually and morally honest person, his discomfort radiates through in his carefully qualified language. Only days later, he had written a concerned friend that if she read a record of the proceedings, “I think, indeed I know, you could not but have approved,” as six physicians had told him “that by any longer delay I was making myself morally responsible for some very probable tragedy, which might occur at any moment.”[21] Years later, he wrote, “The delusion my mother was then under was not fear of rebels, but fear of fire. I remember the doctors said that in such a delusion she might suddenly jump out of a window; although they said that of course no one could predict what an insane person might do.”[22] While he certainly believed she was in danger and needed to be confined, he also knew that this particular point was not a very good one.
Injury in a hypothetical robbery by someone with knowledge she was carrying her bonds was not the type of immediate threat a court looks for—I would not be surprised to learn they saw this behavior a lot after the fire. That was one of the grounds for danger they tossed out. It would be easier to make a case for financial recklessness, which was probably his real concern, but it does not appear that Illinois allowed financial conservatorships at the time. Illinois did not want mentally ill people forced into asylums unless they were a danger to themselves or others, and they did not want them deprived of property unless they were debauching themselves to destitution. A conservator could be appointed to handle the finances of someone who by “excessive drinking, gaming, idleness or debauchery of any kind,” spent money such as “to expose himself or his family to want” or became dependent on the government or community for support. Mary Lincoln was not engaging in such activities, and was nowhere near destitute. Were this conversation revived, Robert, as the plaintiff, would take most of the heat for Swett’s actions.
Mary did have a defense attorney—Isaac N. Arnold, an attorney and politician who had been close with Lincoln, and had looked after Mary, who was very fond of him, following her husband’s death. He specialized in insanity defenses in criminal trials, and, was hesitant about moving forward, saying it would be unethical to defend her because of his personal belief that she was insane. Swett told him that if he began raising these issues, she would realize she could get a defense attorney and make trouble. She knew she had the right to a defense, and Arnold, who was in conversation with her throughout the proceedings, appears to have asked some clarifying questions, possibly at her behest. One involved whether laypeople, like hotel employees could express opinions as to whether she was insane, and the court responded they could if they confined their judgment to personal observations. Really, though, this was not the problem, as the doctors were also saying she was insane.
Still, she did have a defense, and possibly even a “real” one, if Arnold was following her instructions and she was too blindsided or cautious to mount an aggressive attack against her son in court. The testimony seems to have been truthful.[23] But ethics aside, it does not sound like the case was subjected to scrutiny, and this merely delayed the inevitable pushback.
Shortly after the trial, Stuart stopped responding to Robert’s letters and instead direct his replies through Ninian. This may have been because he was appalled at what Swett had done, but was unwilling to admit this to Robert, who believed he was acting in part on Stuart’s advice. Robert told Ninian, “Last spring after my mother came here from Florida I was so distressed in mind that I did not dare to trust to or act upon my own judgment . . . specifically I took no step without the full concurrence of Judge Davis, Mr. Stuart and Mr. Swett.”[24]
Stuart shared Robert’s concerns and was considering taking legal action, but his advice had been to wait until they had a strong case, not prevent a defense in order to pass a weak case. Stuart, upon hearing of it, informed his family members that doctors had said she would jump out a window, much to their surprise, and that the trial would be held the next day. He then made lame excuses for not coming to the trial and seems to have kept a low profile—but he understood what the strategy was. He did tell Robert he approved after the fact, showing his concern about proper procedure by saying he was glad the proceedings were so “well done” and would satisfy the public. But it was possible that this satisfaction wouldn’t last, especially for the public of Chicago, where lawyers were attuned to the high legal standard and concerns driving it. After this, he stopped responding to Robert’s letters asking for further advice.
Robert also thought he was acting on Davis’ advice, but Davis had said basically the same thing that Stuart had. The substance of is his advice to Swett (in a letter not received until after the rushed trial) was: if you, in your professional judgment, have the evidence, and think it necessary, you should move forward—the implication being not otherwise, precisely to prevent the situation they were now in.
From the time Mary arrived in Springfield, the official line did not recognize Mary’s incapacity. Springfield immediately acknowledged her claims in the press, presumably because they were trying to ward off further issues through appeasement, even though it seemed to reflect negatively on Robert. The alternative was worse. Whether on or off the record, about a week after her arrival, Elizabeth Edwards told a visiting newspaper reporter, who had taken “no little pains” to figure out the situation, “that there remains little doubt of her complete sanity, and that she is completely recovered from her late physical and mental indisposition.” Though the report included the comment, “Robert Lincoln accompanied her, stayed but a short time and returned to Chicago, a remarkable act, since he seem still possessed of the idea that his mother is crazy,” the Daily Illinois State Journal reprinted it a few days later.[25] Chicago’s Inter Ocean published a Springfield report about Mary that contained two news items—as if to minimize the impact. After a few sentences about how hot it had been, it took an unnaturally emphatic stand: “It will gratify all to learn that Mrs. Abraham Lincoln has entirely recovered from her late aberration mind, and is now considered entirely free from her affliction.” “It is reported, and with truth,” it continued vaguely, that she would stay in Springfield, “living a pleasant, quiet life.” [26]
This implausible prediction would remain the official line for the rest of her life. She was always on the cusp of leading a quiet, peaceful life. When Robert asked why he was not getting advice as to what course to take, Ninian responded in a manner that initially seems laughable: “I was very careful not to proffer any advice, nor to make any suggestions in relation to your mother and to say that I wrote by her request.”[27] While he was not exactly just the messenger, he giving him the facts on the ground in a way that highlighted the main controversies, and letting Robert make the call as to which one he would choose: unpleasant public discussion, or total surrender? “I have no doubt but that you have acted from your best judgment and from a desire to do every thing in your power for the good,”[28] he said—and then he did become exasperating. Other than her desperation to regain control of her property, she “gives less trouble than any person I ever knew.” In fact, he actively enjoyed her company—she was “very entertaining in conversation.”[29]
“You are the best judge of the right course to pursue, but we would all regret to have her resort to the law. I told her I knew you would be willing to do what Judge Davis and other friends of your father would advise.” Again, he was giving Robert the facts on the ground, so that he could make a choice---unpleasant public discussion, or total surrender? He was also attempting to arrange a graceful exit from the whole saga.
A few months later, a desperate Ninian Edwards went directly to David Davis, once a judge on the circuit in which Lincoln practiced law, and now a Justice on the Supreme Court, to which Lincoln had appointed him. Davis, the largest landholder in the state of Illinois, had been the executor of the Lincoln estate and had considerable influence over both Robert and Leonard Swett. As executor, he had gotten very familiar with Mary Lincoln, and knew what he was dealing with.
After the meeting, Davis wrote Robert that he believed “that you had better consent to the discharge of your mother,” as “Mr. Edwards and his wife both believe her to be sane, and that she ought to be discharged. They will testify to her sanity. Can we oppose it? Ought we to oppose it? Can we afford to have a general fuss, which is sure to come?” He appeared to have little concern about her money, arguing, as Ninian had done, that she could rely on her pension if she blew through her savings.
He also noted the meeting was by appointment--it appears he and Ninian had agreed to meet without Robert’s knowledge to work things out, and apparently both were willing to take her at her word. “Mr. E does not believe that your mother will squander the principal. She says she intends to spend her income hereafter but not to touch on the principal.” He had learned something new, which he passed on to Robert: “Mr. E says she still purchases things, chiefly dresses that she does not need, but he says she always did this.”
The entire dynamic is summed up in Ninian Edwards’ letter to Swett, with whom he had not had much contact, right after her release in June 1876.[30] Ninian has been described as “unraveling” for his apparent inability to see certain important distinctions, but this appears to have been more of an attempt to dodge conflict.
Swett’s letter finally got Ninian to talk straight to him, by saying, among other things, that they had given Mary’s property back “with the hope that she would be quiet . . . If she will not but turns on her only son … to destroy him, knowing that she is insane, I shall as a citizen irrespective of Robert or anyone in discharge of what I know to be my duty to her and her dead husband at the proper time have her confined as an insane person whatever may be the clamor or the consequence. Please state to her kindly and firmly my intentions.”
It was so egregious an ethical violation, so highly impractical, and such a nonexistent duty, that Ninian did not seem to think Swett was serious. And, in this same letter, Swett lectured him about ethical considerations!
Swett’s insistence that they both knew they were implicated in wrongdoing is probably what pushed him over the edge.
“You and I both know that we have committed acts of doubtful propriety,” in giving her valuables to her, including her bonds, “upon the distinction which you drew in your testimony and in your letter received today that while she is not in her right mind, she is able to manage her business . . . What she does, as we both know, is to buy dresses and be almost constantly employed in making and fitting them, and then folding them in trunks never to be again be unfolded or taken out.” This was “harmless,” even beneficial, “employing her mind” and boosting the local dress economy. But the bonds “ought” to be in a vault by “common prudence.” “Now assuming that we have done right in our doubtful experiment . . . have not we gone far enough in that line?”
“The question with us is not one of judgement, but one of courage. We yield to her step by step where we know it is wrong and makes the situation worse, simply because we are afraid of her.” Swett, for one, was done being afraid.
Ninian Edwards’ response revealed he was not confused about how trusts worked when he suggested Mary leave her bonds “in trust” with banker Jacob Bunn as a compromise, even though it would only be with her consent, which could be withdrawn at any time.[31] Ninian agreed they should be in a vault, by her own decision—he did not want her to carry the bonds around with her, and was trying feebly trying to assuage concerns about her financial future, though he did not share them. “I exacted a promise from her that she would deposit her bonds with Mr. Bunn,” he explained, willing to trust her at her word, and so he considered a nonbinding agreement good enough.[32] Nor was he confused as to whether the restoration of her property negated the finding of legal insanity,[33] though he pretended to be. Ninian never gave an opinion as to her “insanity or restoration” because those “words” offended her “and that it was not necessary under the statute, that any verdict should be rendered by the jury, “except the language about controlling property.”[34]
In his letter, which evinces the same delicacy but an undercurrent of irritation towards Swett and the situation, he pointedly responded. He emphasized his family did not believe Robert acted selfishly, that they loved him and expressed their “confidence and sympathy” in him to others from the beginning.[35] They wished him to reassure Robert that they believed every action he had took was with her interest and happiness and view, and “from the testimony of the physicians, and others of his father’s friends we do not see how he could have done otherwise.”[36] Ninian did not say given the facts or his mother’s condition. As I read it, the implication is that he received bad advice.
Ninian tried to reach a point of agreement by conceding Swett was right as to how she spent her money. Her main activity was “having drapes made and fitted.”[37] Fannie Wallace was in bad shape, and so she determined to “brighten up” her home “with new carpets” for $600.[38] Having stipulated to these facts, he awkwardly wrote, “Mrs. Edwards desires me to say that we approve of your letter.”[39] He did not confirm that he actually did. In fact, he told Swett that Mary was “very excited and angry” about being told of Swett’s threats[40] ---which Swett noted was the point. Ninian appears to have been indirectly expressing some irritation with this move by Swett, as he preceded it by saying that Mary had left her things with Bunn and followed it by requesting more items on her behalf, which she had said was all she would ask for.[41] It was all very casual. He knew that starting a direct confrontation with Swett was not wise.
But he was aggravated with Swett’s “we all know we’ve gone too far” line of argument, as it seemed like no one was on the same page as Swett. “I feel confident that she will manage her estate as to add annually 3 or 4 thousand dollars as to principal,” Ninian responded. “I have never thought otherwise since she has been at my house,” and “even if it was a doubtful experiment,” he was more than willing to concede her right to control her finances.[43]
*Note: I suggest looking at the explanatory footnotes below for more context.
[1] Elizabeth Edwards to Robert Lincoln, November 5, 1875, in Jason Emerson, Mary Lincoln's Insanity Case (Urbana, Chicago and Springfield: University of Illinois Press, 2012), chap. 8, Kindle.
[2] Ibid.
[3] Ibid.
[4] Elizabeth Edwards to Robert Lincoln, November 12, 1875, in ibid.
[5] It is not clear Mary actually considered herself a spiritualist, even though she frequently met with mediums after Tad’s death, in a desperate effort to talk with him and her husband. She explored it, but always with some doubt. One medium said “she did not believe in Spiritualism, nor do I think the communications she received from me ever satisfied her. She seemed to have established a sort of spiritual religion for herself, which comforted her the most.” She said that angels surrounded her, which sounds closer to now-mainstream Christian beliefs. Interview with Mrs. Howard, St. Charles Correspondence, “Mrs. Lincoln/Her Spirit Medium Friend,” Chicago Post and Mail, August 1875.
[6] Elizabeth Edwards to Robert Lincoln, November 12, 1875, in Emerson, Insanity Case, chap. 8.
[7] Ibid.
[8] Ibid.
[9] Elizabeth Edwards to Robert Lincoln, December 1, 1875, in Emerson, Insanity Case, chap. 8.
[10] Elizabeth Edwards to Mary Lincoln, November 5, 1879, http://contentdm.acpl.lib.in.us/digital/collection/p16089coll38/id/6943/rec/25.
[11] Ibid.
[12] Ibid.
[13] Ibid. Mary Lincoln was a fabric hoarder, which drove Robert crazy, but her Springfield friends seemed willing to indulge it to make her happy. I’m pretty sure “Mrs. Lamon” was the wife of “Ward ‘Hill’ Lamon,” so it seems that maybe her feelings about him had softened since the 1872 publication of his controversial Lincoln biography. Or she didn’t hold his sins against his wife, whom she’d probably known a long time.
[14] At no point did Swett himself seem concerned about his actions—he was very affected by whatever he perceived. Yet, in the disconnect that is constantly present between Swett and everyone else besides Robert, these concerns about her immediate safety are never again addressed. To me, this suggests that Swett thought something serious was happening, but that he had been mistaken.
[15] According to the Inter Ocean, leading doctors found her of unsound mind and incapable of self-care, which is similar to today’s standard. May 20, 1875.
[16] It is possible Swett (or Robert) was unwilling to introduce whatever evidence convinced him it was urgently serious. Swett utterly panicked and his behavior caught everyone, including himself, off guard. This is pure speculation, but he may have misread a situation—like allegedly meeting with a suspicious man--as having sexual implications. Those “facts” appeared to be at least in part related to this unknown man, and in the last few weeks she had become terrified and disoriented. She had asked men in the hotel to protect her, and there had been at least two days where she left her room not properly dressed, but what exactly the witnesses meant by that is unclear. A Springfield neighbor once said that when Lincoln was away, she sometimes became terrified at night and asked him to sleep in the room with her and Robert, who was then young. Swett could have thought she was in a situation where she would be assaulted or in which she would appear compromised and become the subject of gossip. It would make sense that he would feel this could absolutely not be tolerated and that he would not want to disclose it. It would also explain whyh, if it turned out he was mistaken, this concern disappeared without comment in the aftermath. Robert did not necessarily have to be on the same page as him about this—Swett may have emphasized other concerns, like the bonds, as the real danger. That is the only explanation I can come up with in which Swett’s actions make any sense to me.
[17] The Bradwells also gave Robert a graceful exit and were careful not to drag him in. See Mark E. Neely, Jr. and Gerald McMurtry, The Insanity File: The Case of Mary Todd Lincoln (Carbondale and Edwardsville: Southern Illinois University Press, 1986), chap. 3, Kindle.
[18] There is confusion over whether, at the time, Illinois law allowed for financial conservatorships, except in a few specific cases that did not apply to her situation. The appointment of a conservator to handle finances was almost a matter of default once someone was declared fit for personal restraint, and this was so in her case. See Robert Lincoln to Elizabeth Edwards, May 17, 1876, in Emerson, Insanity Case, chap. 9.
This situation may have been a recent development, the logical consequence of revisions to Illinois’s involuntary commitment laws designed to prevent “unjust” commitments, particularly the “abuse” of the process by husbands looking to get rid of “troublesome” wives.
The novelty and ambiguity of the legal situation in Illinois, and the fact that some other states were much more “generous” in allowing for financial conservatorships, probably explains why the press and certain parties close to the situation initially—but apparently incorrectly—assumed that an alternative to commitment was available in this case. See Neely and McMurtry, Insanity File, chap. 1, chap. 6. (“In Illinois law…insanity was more nearly an all-or-nothing proposition. This codified regnant popular opinion which believed that there were sane and insane persons and that the latter should be in asylums.”)
Pointing out that in 1875, most American doctors “knew better” than to buy into assumptions of the simplistic legal framework, Neely and McMurty go on to (quite dubiously) attribute the existence of this situation to the less enlightened “regnant popular opinion” in nineteenth-century Illinois. However, they go on to identify the “powerful factor” of “individualistic assumptions underlying American jurisprudence” as being the dominant force at work behind such laws, which, “tended to rule out mixtures of government and individual control of property.” In other words, “the radical individualism of American law frowned on paternalistic councils which could oversee, guide, regulate, or approve a partially competent individual’s handling of his private property.” Ibid, chap. 6.
Neely and McMurtry, among others, portray this as an unfortunate misjudgment resulting from ignorance or oversimplification. While there was and is significant and strong difference of opinion on how difficult to make involuntary commitment and what should be proven, making it all-or-nothing was an informed and deliberate choice, like the reasonable doubt standard in criminal trials. In this sense, such laws likely did reflect the popular opinion of contemporary Illinois, as their underlying reasoning reflected the fact that any other approach was likely to result in intolerable complications and scandals.
And critically, as a matter of law, a person cannot be considered competent and incompetent—or sane and insane—at the same time. They are mutually exclusive categories—however such terminology may be used in other contexts, legally declaring someone partially insane serves little purpose.
What exactly am I getting at here? Simple: That the black-and-white approach was not because of ignorance about degrees of mental illness.
Illinois did not want mentally ill people forced into asylums unless they were a danger to themselves or others, and they did not want them deprived of property unless they were debauching themselves to destitution.
In Illinois, a financial conservator could only be appointed to handle the affairs of a person whose “excessive drinking, gaming, idleness or debauchery of any kind” had either “expose[d] himself or his family to want” or led to dependence on government/community support. Ibid. As you can see, for rather obvious reasons, these laws had been written with (formerly) self-supporting men in mind—particularly those with dependents—men who were caught in a downward spiral related to mental illness, addiction, etc.
While women certainly engage in similar capacities for similar reasons, this was not true of Mary Lincoln in 1875, and she was nowhere near destitute. This is what made Swett’s behavior so foolish. Whether or not Mary’s behavior was reasonable was not the question at issue. Neither was whether or not such intervention was in Mary’s best interest. And the people most likely to detect this disconnect were the influential attorneys and radical individualists practicing law and/or residing in Illinois. Robert Lincoln, John Todd Stuart, Gov. Palmer, Ninian Edwards, and Swett ran in the same circles as the former group, Mary in both.
Robert, an attorney practicing in Chicago, seems to have understood this:
“The medical men told us that there was the greatest danger of personal injury unless she was protected and then could be but one opinion as to the danger to her property.” Robert also wrote that “it was absolutely necessary for her personal safety that she should be placed for a time under proper care. Under the laws of this state no person could take this course without the order of the County Court. When this was had, the law compelled the court to appoint a Conservator of her property.” Robert Lincoln to Elizabeth Edwards, May 17, 1876, in Emerson, Insanity Case, chap. 9.
As the question of her financial competence had never been before the Court, Robert and his advisors had never established that she was incompetent to handle her financial affairs, and given she had $60,000 in bonds after ten years’ responsibility, they probably would have had trouble even with a hand-picked jury—perhaps especially an educated and respectable one--who needed something to justify themselves.
[19] New York Evangelist, May 27, 1875.
[20] Robert said they also worried that she would be robbed for the large amount of money and valuables she had kept with her, and injured. Robert Lincoln to Ninian Edwards, December 16, 1875, http://contentdm.acpl.lib.in.us/digital/collection/p16089coll38/id/7289/rec/169. He seemed to connect this to the fire fear, which would make sense because she had frantically withdrawn her bond and possessions from the fireproof vaults in the last week of April, the day after a major fire in Oshkosh. Ibid; New York Evangelist, May 27, 1875; “Oshkosh Public Museum - The Great Fire of 1875.” Accessed July 24, 2019. http://www.oshkoshmuseum.org/oshkoshPublicMuseum/articlesOfInterest/the-great-fire-of-1875.
[21] Robert Lincoln to Sally Orne, June 1, 1875, in Emerson, Insanity Case, chap. 6.
[22] Robert Lincoln to Leonard Swett, June 2, 1884 in ibid, chap. 13.
[23] With a vigorous cross-examination, the truthful testimony would have been put into context and much of it would probably have appeared very differently. The weakness of the case was not in the witnesses, but in the lack of context.
[24] “Last Spring, I relied and acted upon the advice and judgment of yourself, Judge Davis and Mr. Swett.” Robert Lincoln to John Todd Stuart, November 15, 1875, in ibid, chap. 8.
[25] “GSC,” Springfield Correspondence, Toledo Commercial, reprinted in Daily Illinois State Journal, September 27, 1875. The correspondent, writing on September 22, had come to Springfield to look at the tomb and write about Lincoln-related things like the monument. The correspondent seems to have some familiarity with the Lincoln family, and turned to Mrs. Lincoln, “who should be known as the woman of many sorrows.” Noting she had now come to Springfield, “Robert Lincoln accompanied her, stayed but a short time and returned to Chicago, a remarkable act, since he seem still possessed of the idea that his mother is crazy. Of Mrs. Lincoln’s condition, is glad to say, after having taken no little pains to ascertain, that there remains little doubt of her complete sanity, and that she is completely recovered from her late physical and mental indisposition. Such is the full belief of her sister, Mrs. Edwards. The later told me that it was her wish, and she thinks and house also the desire of her unfortunate sister, to make her house Mrs. Lincoln’s home the remainder of her days. How proper it would seem to be close to so eventful a life as hers has been, amid the surroundings of early and happier days. I may add that Mrs. Lincoln receives her old friends, is entirely unrestrained, rides out, and, indeed, as Mrs. Edwards expresses it, ‘is quite like her old self in buoyancy and cheerfulness, excepting recurring touches of her deep sorrows.” That it was republished is interesting. This was almost certainly Guy S. Comly, son of General James M. Comly, who was a prominent Republican who had edited the Ohio State Journal before moving to the Toledo Commercial.
[26] The Inter Ocean, October 30, 1875.
[27] Ninian Edwards to Robert Lincoln, June 26, 1876, in Emerson, Insanity Case, chap. 11.
[28] Ibid.
[29] Ninian Edwards to Robert Lincoln, November 17, 1875, in ibid, chap. 8.
[30] Ninian Edwards to Leonard Swett, June 22, 1876, in ibid, chap. 11.
[31] See Ninian Edwards to Robert Lincoln, June 26, 1876 in ibid; Ninian Edwards to Leonard Swett, June 22, 24, 1876, in ibid. Robert was undoubtedly correct in it being irresponsible, as a matter of legal judgment, to give the bonds back—but the insistence from Springfield indicates they were very certain she would not run through them and then demand the value from the securities.
[32] Ibid. The details of this are unclear. The Bakers were in Argentina and thus needed someone authorized to care for their property in Springfield. This possibly explains why Bunn would also not respond to Robert, or take over the conservatorship—taking over the case when with the intention to let it expire would put Robert in an awkward position, or at least force an awkward conversation. Bunn’s consideration of Robert after she regained her bonds suggests some diplomacy was going on. Bunn wrote Robert that “Your mother called on me to day and placed in my hands, on special deposit, fifty nine thousand nine hundred and fifty dollars $59,950 in U.S. Registered 6% Bonds of 1881. Also, powers of atty. to collect the interest, her pension and $125 monthly for rent in Chicago.” He felt he was “not the proper person to have the custody of this property,” and that Robert should know where it was. However, the conservatorship had already ended, and he had discussed doing this with Ninian. He may have been trying to be courteous and respectful. Jacob Bunn to Robert Lincoln, June 24, 1876. http://contentdm.acpl.lib.in.us/digital/collection/p16089coll38/id/7334. Ultimately, he ended up collecting the rent money on Mary’s behalf. Jacob Bunn to Robert Lincoln, July 3, 1876, http://contentdm.acpl.lib.in.us/digital/collection/p16089coll38/id/7337/rec/2.
[33] In response to Swett’s comment about the pistol and hitmen allegedly obtained by Mary, Ninian noted he felt it his duty to pass on threats that he did not believe were real and that he now believed may have been fabricated altogether. Ninian Edwards to Leonard Swett, June 22, 1876, in ibid.
[34] One ground for commitment would be if Mary posed an immediate danger to others. See n33, above. Robert said he held back evidence, including a comment he was told about in which she expressed a desire to kidnap Mamie, but this does not seem to have been a recent or imminent threat. See Neely and McMurtry, Insanity File, chap. 3; Ninian Edwards to Leonard Swett, June 22, 24, 1876, in Emerson, Insanity Case, chap. 11.
[35] Ninian Edwards to Leonard Swett, June 24, 1876, in ibid.
[36] Ibid.
[37] Ninian Edwards to Leonard Swett, June 22, 1876, in ibid.
[38] Ibid.
[39] Ibid.
[40] Ninian Edwards to Leonard Swett, June 24, 1876, in ibid.
[41] Ibid.
[42] Ibid.
[43] Ibid.
[44] Ninian Edwards to Robert Lincoln, June 26, 1876, in ibid, chap. 11.
[45] Ibid.