Lincoln's Melancholy

[RJNorton]

(10-06-2016 09:52 PM)Gene C Wrote:  Lincoln's "melancholy" seemed to be ongoing (throughout his life), but how much did it affect his ability to function?

Your thoughts?

Gene, IMO his periods of depression have been over-magnified. It is true that in 1835 when Ann Rutledge died, and after January 1, 1841, when he broke up with Mary Todd, Lincoln entered periods of deep melancholy/depression. In 1841 he missed time in the state legislature. He sought advice when he apparently wrote Dr. Charles Drake in Cincinnati, described his depression, but received the reply that the doctor could not prescribe any treatment without a personal interview with Lincoln.

Other than 1835 and 1841 were there other periods in Lincoln's life where his tendency toward melancholy REALLY effected his life? Offhand, I cannot think of any. Twenty Days says that Lincoln stopped seeing people on Thursdays after Willie died (on a Thursday), but the schedule change didn't last long.

[Eva Elisabeth]

I agree with the three of you, for the same reasons. Plus those were different times - please see my last post #37 here:
http://rogerjnorton.com/LincolnDiscussio...m#pid53384

[Angela]

Roger, the word "over-magnified" is perfect. I kept wondering where all this "depression" talk came from in later biographies because I found so little facts that would back this in the original writings from Lincoln OR others. He himself might have been a little dramatic with the choice of words at times - but he often used that kind of language for positive as for negative thoughts.

What I also noticed is that many people described him as social and entertaining and how his expression would become animated when talking.
Could it be that - due to the stark differences in his facial features - people would notice the difference between happy and sad as far more intense that it actually was?

[ELCore]

(10-08-2016 04:54 AM)Angela Wrote:  What I also noticed is that many people described him as social and entertaining and how his expression would become animated when talking.
Could it be that - due to the stark differences in his facial features - people would notice the difference between happy and sad as far more intense that it actually was?

I believe that is Dr. John Sotos' idea in The Physical Lincoln. That Lincoln (to put it in my own words in modern terms) had "Resting Sad Face". (Confer.)

[Eva Elisabeth]

(10-08-2016 04:54 AM)Angela Wrote:  Roger, the word "over-magnified" is perfect. I kept wondering where all this "depression" talk came from in later biographies because I found so little facts that would back this in the original writings from Lincoln OR others. He himself might have been a little dramatic with the choice of words at times - but he often used that kind of language for positive as for negative thoughts.

What I also noticed is that many people described him as social and entertaining and how his expression would become animated when talking.
Could it be that - due to the stark differences in his facial features - people would notice the difference between happy and sad as far more intense that it actually was?

Good point, Angela.

[Rob Wick]

In 1894 Ida Tarbell was in Springfield doing research for her McClure's Magazine articles. She went into Roland Diller's drug store to get something to drink and escape the brutal summer heat. She struck up a conversation with Diller, and she soon found one of her greatest sources for "human" stories about Lincoln. In her interview notes, she notes Diller's comment in discussing Lincoln's love of telling jokes and stories “He had to do that cause he was melancholic like. He had shadows over him. We used to say when we saw him broodin’ ‘What’s the use Abe? Nothing ain’t your fault. What’s the use?’ but he couldn’t help it.”

When Tarbell modeled her character Billy Brown after Diller in her He Knew Lincoln and Other Billy Brown Stories (which was her best-selling book, selling in 1909 alone 17,000 copies), she omitted Diller's talk of Lincoln's melancholy. While one might think she did that in order to save Lincoln's reputation from gossip, she also took out Diller's positive comments about Mary Todd Lincoln. From an earlier draft of my original book on Tarbell and Lincoln, I write the following:

In both the published article and the subsequent book, nowhere is Mary Lincoln’s name mentioned. Given Tarbell’s general dislike of Mary, and her knowledge that Robert did not like to see his mother’s name in print even in stories that were favorable, that is not surprising. By the time Tarbell published He Knew Lincoln, Diller had been dead for two years, so it was impossible for him to point out Tarbell’s omission. Would he have done so? It seems likely, given that in another interview, Diller told Tarbell he was “a Mrs. Lincoln man” saying she was a good neighbor. “Of course she had a temper,” Diller told Tarbell. “The Todds all had a crazy streak. My wife says we all have a crazy streak and I guess she’s right. You have haven’t you?

I quote this to point out that Diller was trying to tell Tarbell truthful information about Lincoln. Even though Diller was a Democrat, he had a great deal of affection for Lincoln. They were close friends. That Tarbell chose to leave Diller's comments about Lincoln's melancholy out of her writing cannot be seen as a question mark on the information's veracity.

There is no question that Diller was a character (he constantly flirted with Tarbell, calling her "Tarbucket") but if you look through the notes that she gathered regarding him, they correspond with what others have said about Lincoln. There are too many stories of Lincoln's melancholic nature for it not to have a basis in fact.

Best
Rob

[Angela]

(10-08-2016 06:09 AM)ELCore Wrote:  I believe that is Dr. John Sotos' idea in The Physical Lincoln. That Lincoln (to put it in my own words in modern terms) had "Resting Sad Face". (Confer.)

Ha, "resting sad face" is very fitting! Glad to hear that others noticed that as well. But then, so much is written about how very different he looked in real life compared to the pictures...it would have to be a huge difference.

[RJNorton]

I tend to think Lincoln handled his mood swings better during his presidential years than in his earlier years.

A fellow attorney, Jonathan Birch, said of Lincoln in court, "His eyes would sparkle with fun, and when he had reached the point in his narrative which invariably evoked the laughter of the crowd, nobody's enjoyment was greater than his. An hour later he might be seen in the same place or in some law office near by, but, alas, how different! His chair, no longer in the center of the room, would be leaning back against the wall; his feet drawn up and resting on the front rounds so that his knees and chair were about on a level; his hat tipped slightly forward as if to shield his face; his eyes no longer sparkling with fun or merriment, but sad and downcast and his hands clasped around his knees. There, drawn up within himself as it were, he would sit, the very picture of dejection and gloom. Thus absorbed have I seen him sit for hours at a time defying the interruption of even his closest friends. No one ever thought of breaking the spell by speech; for by his moody silence and abstraction he had thrown about him a barrier so dense and impenetrable no one dared to break through. It was a strange picture and one I have never forgotten."

Offhand, I cannot think of any descriptions like this (or at least to this degree) during the 1861-1865 years.

[Eva Elisabeth]

I think Orville H. Browning, who knew Abraham Lincoln well, probably assesssed spot-on: “He had his moods like other men. He was sometimes jolly and genial, and gain at other times absorbed and abstracted – but these alternations were only manifestations of his constitutional temperament – they came and went irregularly. He was sometimes mirthful and sometimes sad, but both moods quickly passed away and left him always the same man.”

[L Verge]

That sounds like a normal state of being for many people -- not clinical depression like some modern authors try to persuade us that Lincoln suffered from.

As I have stated many times, I am not well-read on Lincoln the man; but the references that I have seen to his up-and-down moods have even made me wonder if, what his "analysts" are describing as depression-oriented, was more like a "brooding" state that he would go into where he wanted to be alone to figure out his next move in life, solutions for legal cases he was involved in, how to change the world, etc. -- Sort of a Greta Garbo syndrome?

[ELCore]

Eva and Laura, I think that makes much more sense than Lincoln having a "mental illness".

[Eva Elisabeth]

(10-09-2016 12:22 PM)L Verge Wrote:  That sounds like a normal state of being for many people -- not clinical depression like some modern authors try to persuade us that Lincoln suffered from.

As I have stated many times, I am not well-read on Lincoln the man; but the references that I have seen to his up-and-down moods have even made me wonder if, what his "analysts" are describing as depression-oriented, was more like a "brooding" state that he would go into where he wanted to be alone to figure out his next move in life, solutions for legal cases he was involved in, how to change the world, etc. -- Sort of a Greta Garbo syndrome?

Abraham Lincoln indirectly hinted at this himself - Ruth Painter Randall wrote: “The two younger boys were so devoted to each other it was almost as hard for Willie to witness Tad’s tears as it was for Mr. Lincoln. He looked on sorrowfully at their father’s failure to bring Tad out of his woe, then lapsed into an absorbed silence which lasted for ten or fifteen minutes. He was evidently trying hard to think of some way he could cheer Tad up. Mr. Lincoln was watching Willie and making sure that no one disturbed his mental concentration. Finally Willie clasped both hands together, shut his teeth over his lower lip, and looked up into his father’s face with a smile. Mr. Lincoln had been waiting for this. ‘There!’ he exclaimed. ‘You have it now, my boy, have you not?’ Then turning to a guest who was at the breakfast table he explained, ‘I know every step of the process by which that boy arrived at his satisfactory solution of the question before him, as it by just such slow methods I attain results.”

[RJNorton]

I think his face had a lot to do with how others viewed him. William Herndon said, "The perpetual look of sadness was his most prominent feature." Francis B. Carpenter, the artist who lived in the White House for part of 1864, said of Lincoln, "I have said repeatedly to friends that Mr. Lincoln had the saddest face I ever attempted to paint." Joshua Speed said of his first meeting Lincoln, "As I looked up at him I thought then, and think now, that I never saw a sadder face."

[davg2000]

(10-10-2016 03:47 AM)RJNorton Wrote:  I think his face had a lot to do with how others viewed him. William Herndon said, "The perpetual look of sadness was his most prominent feature." Francis B. Carpenter, the artist who lived in the White House for part of 1864, said of Lincoln, "I have said repeatedly to friends that Mr. Lincoln had the saddest face I ever attempted to paint." Joshua Speed said of his first meeting Lincoln, "As I looked up at him I thought then, and think now, that I never saw a sadder face."

I've really never thought that Lincoln was "mentally ill," but, instead, that melancholy was merely his nature. Centuries ago, humans were understood by the four humors of blood, yellow bile (yellow choler), black bile (black choler, also known as melancholy), and phlegm. All people were thought to have these bodily fluids in some proportion individual and correct to them. Someone ill might have an imbalance in his blend of the humors. Although no one views illness this way today, it was also believed that a person might be well yet predisposed to a certain humor; one might be sanguine, choleric, melancholy, or phlegmatic. We view these now as traits. Someone who is moody, sometimes depressed, silent for long periods, thoughtful, might today be understood as simply melancholy. Maybe Lincoln was just being Lincoln.

[Rob Wick]

I think people sometimes get too hung up on the pejorative nature of the term "mentally ill." Mental illness is in reality a continuum that can range from mild depression all the way to a psychosis that would require someone to be institutionalized against their will. Many of the various conditions described as mental illness can be successfully treated with medicine and therapy or a combination of the two. To say that one suffers, or suffered, from mental illness isn't to say that person no longer is a valued or productive member of society. Of course, there's also a legal definition of the term insanity which may or may not conform to the clinical definition.

That said, as with many (if not most) things regarding Lincoln, there is no absolute evidence as to what level, if any, that Lincoln suffered. But there is far too much anecdotal evidence that his periods of depression were much greater than a mere case of the "blues." Joshua Wolf Shenk may have overshot on his estimation of Lincoln's depressive nature, but Shenk wasn't the first to think there was something more to it then many seem to want to admit. From my own perspective, I can tell you that EVERYTHING I am today results from the death of my father when I was five. How I approach people, how I approach relationships, how I approach life in general, stems from that event. For Lincoln to become melancholic given the nature of frontier life in general and the specific instances of the loss of his mother, sister and later Ann Rutledge, could trigger strong instances of depression in someone so inclined. And while no one has ever been able to find the letter Lincoln supposedly wrote to Dr. Daniel Drake, its existence comes from one of the better sources of Lincoln reminisces, that of Joshua Speed. Charles Strozier notes that Drake was a psychiatrist with a national reputation for dealing with mental illnesses, and that Lincoln, who was living in Springfield at the time, likely heard of Drake from Anson Henry, who would have known of Drake since Henry graduated in 1827 from the medical school in Cincinnati. Why would Lincoln have sought out such an expert if he wasn't concerned about getting it under control?

Look at the poem that Lincoln wrote when he went back to Indiana in 1844. The second stanza had to have come from a deep place in Lincoln's mind. Here it is in its entirety.

But here's an object more of dread
Than ought the grave contains--
A human form with reason fled,
While wretched life remains.

Poor Matthew! Once of genius bright,
A fortune-favored child--
Now locked for aye, in mental night,
A haggard mad-man wild.

Poor Matthew! I have ne'er forgot,
When first, with maddened will,
Yourself you maimed, your father fought,
And mother strove to kill;

When terror spread, and neighbors ran,
Your dange'rous strength to bind;
And soon, a howling crazy man
Your limbs were fast confined.

How then you strove and shrieked aloud,
Your bones and sinews bared;
And fiendish on the gazing crowd,
With burning eye-balls glared--

And begged, and swore, and wept and prayed
With maniac laught[ter?] joined--
How fearful were those signs displayed
By pangs that killed thy mind!

And when at length, tho' drear and long,
Time smoothed thy fiercer woes,
How plaintively thy mournful song
Upon the still night rose.

I've heard it oft, as if I dreamed,
Far distant, sweet, and lone--
The funeral dirge, it ever seemed
Of reason dead and gone.

To drink it's strains, I've stole away,
All stealthily and still,
Ere yet the rising God of day
Had streaked the Eastern hill.

Air held his breath; trees, with the spell,
Seemed sorrowing angels round,
Whose swelling tears in dew-drops fell
Upon the listening ground.

But this is past; and nought remains,
That raised thee o'er the brute.
Thy piercing shrieks, and soothing strains,
Are like, forever mute.

Now fare thee well--more thou the cause,
Than subject now of woe.
All mental pangs, by time's kind laws,
Hast lost the power to know.

O death! Thou awe-inspiring prince,
That keepst the world in fear;
Why dost thos tear more blest ones hence,
And leave him ling'ring here?

This is a very heartfelt and sensitive rendition of an event that not only had a major impact on the tight-knit Spencer County community, but also had a major impact on Lincoln, who wrote it after his 1844 visit, sending it to Andrew Johnston in 1846. Lincoln told Johnston "He is three years older than I, and when we were boys we went to school together. He was rather a bright lad, and the son of the rich man of our poor neighborhood. At the age of nineteen he unaccountably became furiously mad, from which condition he gradually settled down into harmless insanity. When, as I told you in my other letter I visited my old home in the fall of 1844, I found him still lingering in this wretched condition. In my poetizing mood I could not forget the impression his case made upon me."

This stanza could easily have spoken of Lincoln's own feelings toward what he knew was building up inside of his own mind.

I've heard it oft, as if I dreamed,
Far distant, sweet, and lone--
The funeral dirge, it ever seemed
Of reason dead and gone.

I've often wondered why it seemed that Lincoln was so hard to know. I think part of it comes from the fact that he was one of the most self-aware individuals who ever rose to prominence. With such a deep well of self-knowledge, Lincoln worked to make sure he kept as tight a lid as humanly possible on his emotions. Only to a very few (Mary, Joshua Speed) does he let himself be more open. Lincoln could see in himself the same demons that battled Matthew Gentry, but also know those periods of illness were interspersed with periods of reason that gave him comfort.

Now fare thee well--more thou the cause,
Than subject now of woe.
All mental pangs, by time's kind laws,
Hast lost the power to know.

When he returned to Indiana in 1844, he saw that Gentry had gone from an intensive and murderous insanity to a more harmless and somewhat curious existence through the passage of time. As Lincoln saw Gentry's demons quieting down as he got older, it is possible that he believed so to his own demons would do the same.

So, to sum up, it does the memory of Lincoln no violence to say he suffered from mental illness or clinical depression. On the continuum I spoke of, I think a strong case can be made for a mild form of clinical depression. And I also agree with Roger's earlier point that during Lincoln's presidency instances of this were rare. Yet think about it--what else could have focused Lincoln's mind so intently then guiding the country through the Civil War?

Best
Rob