Civil War anniversary: Mary Todd Lincoln

Published 10:58 pm Saturday, May 2, 2015

Rarely in American history has a figure emerged into the public eye with so much potential, exhibited so many baffling behaviors, then faded from view in a such a cloud of tragedy, as did Mary Todd Lincoln.

As the wife of President Abraham Lincoln, her term as first lady coincided almost exactly with the most tumultuous period in the country’s history, the Civil War. With Southern roots and Northern sympathies, her personal life in many ways reflected the division that tore the nation apart during those four years.

Born in 1818 into a wealthy, slave-holding family of Lexington, Ky., Mary Ann Todd enjoyed the advantages associated at the time with aristocratic status. She received a private education and had few responsibilities as a young lady other than an active social life. At 5 feet 2 inches, with blue eyes, reddish-brown hair and a lovely complexion, she was described as “the very creature of excitement.” Mary was vivacious, intelligent and compassionate. But she could also be impulsive, sarcastic and spiteful — qualities that would haunt her later in life.

At age 20 she went to Springfield, Ill., to live with her married sister. There she met Abraham Lincoln, a fledgling lawyer nine years her senior who was described as “a poor nobody then.” The courtship of Mary, one of the most eligible women in town, and Abe, the dirt farmer’s son, was stormy and even endured one broken engagement. But the marriage finally took place in 1842 in the parlor of her sister’s Springfield home.

Her days of leisure ended abruptly and she settled down in Springfield to a family life of household responsibilities and child care (the couple would eventually have four sons). Lincoln served one term in Congress, from 1847-49, during which she and her first child relocated to Washington to live with him in a boarding house.

Always interested in political affairs, Mary actively supported her husband’s career, sometimes even exceeding the limits of acceptable interaction with the press. During his campaign for the U.S. Senate in 1858, Lincoln engaged in a series of debates with Stephen Douglas that propelled him into the national spotlight. Though he lost that race, with Mary’s vigorous support and unwavering faith in his abilities, he won the presidency two years later.

When Lincoln was inaugurated March 4, 1861, Mrs. Lincoln became the first “first lady” to be identified by that title, though she preferred “Mrs. President.” She reveled in her new position, refusing to play the traditional invisible role of presidential wives. She read journals and newspapers, attended debates and discussed appointments with her husband. A staunch supporter of his efforts to preserve the Union, she volunteered as a nurse in Union hospitals, visited Union camps and frequently worked with the Sanitary Commission fairs to raise funds for soldier supplies.

 Hoping to maintain the prestige of the presidency and raise Union morale, she frequently held elegant dinners and receptions and filled the White House with intellectuals and literary figures. She was a gracious and charming hostess, loved conversation in French or English and enjoyed a good joke.

Largely due to the influence of her seamstress Elizabeth Keckley, a former slave who had purchased her freedom, Mrs. Lincoln became an ardent champion of abolition. She worked actively with the Contraband Relief Association, an organization founded by Keckley to raise funds to help former slaves, or “contraband,” as they were called, who had fled to the relative safety of Washington and were often destitute. “These immense number of Contrabands,” Mrs. Lincoln wrote,” are suffering intensely, many without bed coverings and having to use any bits of carpeting to cover themselves — many dying of want.” When her husband issued the Emancipation Proclamation of 1863, she viewed it as a personal victory.

Throughout the war Mary was plagued with the regional bias of her family. Her brother and three half-brothers all served with the Confederate Army. One was killed at Shiloh and another wounded at Vicksburg. Her family’s allegiances came into sharp public focus when her half-sister’s prominent husband, Brig. Gen. Benjamin Hardin Helm, commander of the 1st Kentucky “Orphan” Brigade, was killed in the Battle of Chickamauga.

With her Confederate-leaning family and her Unionist opinions, Mrs. Lincoln was caught between South and North — and seen as a traitor by both. Her conflicting background and opinions, coupled with the ongoing bitter war itself, turned her years in the White House into a tense and turbulent roller coaster ride.

Nor could Mary win the approval she sought in Washington society. Even from the beginning, she was judged too “Western” and too “Southern” to assume the social leadership role expected of the president’s wife. Insecure, but eager to gain popularity, Mrs. Lincoln became obsessed with redecorating the White House with lavish furnishings and adorning herself with expensive clothes. In search of both, she took frequent, costly shopping trips to New York and elsewhere. Unfortunately, her extravagance in decor caused conflicts with the White House staff, who called her “the Madam,” and her excesses and boldness in attire, such as collecting 400 pairs of gloves and donning low-cut dresses, raised eyebrows, even those of her husband.

Mrs. Lincoln created further ill will by erroneously assuming many items were gifts, when they were not, or accepting gifts in exchange for influencing her husband for political favors. Meanwhile, the bills piled up, as did criticism of her ostentatious behavior — which was especially offensive when Union soldiers were suffering in hospitals and dying on battlefields.

Her questionable judgment, and lack of discretion, often led to embarrassment for the president. She defied social norms, yielded to flattery, was too quick to divulge sensitive information, and too free to express opinions on political issues. Yet the ever-patient Lincoln declared, “My wife is as handsome as when she was a girl, and I … fell in love with her, and what is more, I have never fallen out.”

Tragedy struck the Lincolns at the White House early in 1862, when their 11-year-old son Willie died, likely of typhoid fever. Tad, their youngest, also fell ill with the fever, but recovered. (The couple had previously lost another son, Edward, to tuberculosis, in 1850.) The loss of Willie left Mary inconsolable. Her grief, and her desire to communicate with him in the afterlife, led her to become involved with dubious “mediums” and “spiritualists” and vulnerable to their dictates and suggestions.

During this time, her husband was under a relentless burden from the war, made even worse as death tolls mounted. But Mrs. Lincoln, now tortured by grief and afflicted by mood swings, depression and nervousness approaching hysteria, was incapable of helping him. Her condition was the cause of even greater anxiety for Mr. Lincoln, who nevertheless always maintained “a manner of affectionate solicitude, so marked, so gentle and unaffected that no one could see them together without being impressed by it.”

In July 1863 Mrs. Lincoln received a serious head injury when thrown from her carriage. After recovering, whenever possible, she and her husband enjoyed afternoon drives together. During their last outing, on the afternoon of April 14, 1865, the day he would be assassinated, Lincoln told her, “I consider this day, the war has come to a close. We must both be more cheerful in the future — between the war and the loss of our darling Willie — we have both been very miserable.”

The trauma of her husband’s assassination that night, seated beside her, was more than Mary could bear. His death, and her financial debts, immobilized her. Her mental and physical health deteriorated over the next 17 years. If she had been buoyant and debonair as a young lady, she was bitter and dour as a widow. At one point her son Robert committed her to an insane asylum, but she later won her release. She died in 1882 in the home of her sister, the same home in which she had married, 40 years earlier.

Mary Todd Lincoln’s life is a story of a once-promising, once-vibrant life that became engulfed in pain and heartbreak. No doubt some of her sadness can be attributed to her own behavior. And some can be assigned to fate.

But the times in which she lived dictated much of her sorrow. It was a long, cruel war, and Mary Todd Lincoln, like everyone at the time, paid a heavy price in tears.

This article is part of a series of stories about Dalton and life in Dalton during the Civil War. The stories run on Sunday and are provided by the Dalton 150th Civil War Commission. To find out more about the commission, go to dalton150th.com. If you have material that you would like to contribute for a future article, contact Robert Jenkins at (706) 259-4626 or robert.jenkins@ robertdjenkins.com.