The Lady and the President: The Letters of Dorothea Dix and Millard Fillmore

by Charles M. Snyder

When the private papers of Millard Fillmore, thought to have been destroyed in 1889, were discovered they proved to include a large number of letters to Fillmore from Dorothea Dix, the renowned crusader for the humane treatment of the insane. Almost simultaneously, the letters of Fillmore to Dix, which had lain forgotten in a private collection since 1887, became available.

Thus overnight a correspondence of more than a hundred and fifty letters, spanning nearly twenty years, opened new perspectives upon two prominent Americans whose friendship was known to few during their lifetimes and had long been forgotten by historians.

All the extant correspondence between the thirteenth President of the United States and the humanitarian reformer is published here for the first time. Charles M. Snyder provides an illuminating background on the principles and a running commentary on the events that shaped their lives and their relationship.

The Lady & the President provides a wealth of raw material for a reinterpretation of these two neglected figures, offering new insights into their warm personal relations, their roles as national leaders, and the perilous times in which they lived.

408 pages, Paperback

First published July 15, 2014

Reviews

[Jen · Rating 4 out of 5]

"We are not sent into this world mainly to enjoy the loveliness therein; nor to sit us down in passive ease; no, we were sent here for action; the soul that seeks to do the will of God with a pure heart fervently, does not yield to the lethargy of ease...Oh, how can any fold the hands to rest and say to the spirit, take thine ease for all is well!."


A good revelatory book on the nature of Dorothea, as it includes her thoughts and conversations through the letters she exchanged with Millard Fillmore, during and after his presidency. Most people wouldn't think of this as a 'good' book. I think most people would think these letters and conversations 'dry as toast.' But to hell with everyone else, in this case, toast is my favorite thing.

Dorothea Dix has been my favorite American historical figure since sixth grade. She was a fascinating and remarkable person: unapologetically bossy, demanding, and unswerving in her commitment to better the conditions of those who could not better their own. She never married but proudly declared a state lunatic asylum in New Jersey to be her 'first-born child.'

Dorothea didn't look away from ugly and had all the best reasons not to do what polite society wanted. What made her highly qualified to advocate for the wounded, incarcerated, and insane? Pretty much nothing except that she could see and was literate. And this is why I have a girl crush on this dead woman. Because after what she saw she decided, "to hell with just quilting and throwing coins in the plate, I'm taking notes and names!" She went around looking at the ugly--jails, attics, and almshouses and then drafted a petition, addressing the 'gentlemen' in power:


"I call your attention to the present state of insane persons confined within this Commonwealth, in cages, closets, cellars, and pens, chained naked, beaten with rods and lashed into obedience...Men of Massachusetts, I beg, I implore...I commit to you this sacred cause. Your action upon this subject will affect the present and future conditions of hundreds and thousands. In this legislation, as in all things, you may exercise that wisdom which is the breath of the power of God."

She is largely unremembered by the world, although she helped to establish hospitals and asylums for the mentally ill, and the first publicly funded psychiatric treatment hospital. She was a firm believer in restorative justice and advocated for prison reform in America and abroad. She was a well-spoken and complicated person with definite opinions. She was confident, critical, bold, and demanded too much of herself and others. She took on the shitty jobs no one wanted, and kept at it. Persuasive as hell in her letters, it is clear that she relished taking on or being given too much to accomplish. Within the first few weeks of the Civil War, she volunteered as a nurse and advocated for women nurses in the war effort.

And throughout her life, she wrote about all this. Holy crap, did she write! Just her writings to Fillmore in this book should be enough letter writing for a lifetime, and yet she petitioned everyone everywhere regarding the treatment of the insane, ill, and imprisoned. I have no idea how she kept it up, especially since everything I've read about her mentions her weak constitution and bouts of sickness. It makes me ashamed of myself, really, overwhelmed by family and work responsibilities.