“Marriage is a state of mysterious paradoxes and contradictions that unfold rapidly in a small room. Bride and groom find themselves naked as never before, and vulnerable, with perhaps greater need for cover. They begin in awe of each other's perfections, only to be dismayed when they discover flaws. The man who longed for comfort in a woman's arms suddenly feels suffocated, oppressed, wanting air. Lincoln had been a private and secretive man, always preferring to remain apart. How could he love this woman as he meant to love her while preserving the core of his being? And what is she to make of this man who, like an infinity of Chinese boxes, opens one after another to her in the effort to reveal his heart, and uncovers only one more box locked as tight as the one before? She is an open book, her emotions visible to all. Needing love, she finds herself one night ecstatic in the prospect of it, seeming to hold it for a joyful hour, only to awaken and find it insufficient, or that her need in response to his giving is redoubled.
- Daniel Mark Epstein, The Lincolns: Portrait of a Marriage
The line on Mary Todd Lincoln has always been that she was plain crazy, an unlikeable woman of fragile psyche who was ultimately pushed over the edge of madness by unendurable loss. This is definitely how many contemporaries viewed her. Indeed, Mary Lincoln’s grating personality might have saved the life of Ulysses Grant, as Grant’s wife Julia refused an invitation to Ford’s Theater because she could not stand Abraham Lincoln’s spouse.
In comparison to her husband, who became a national martyr, Mary’s faults are magnified to the point of distortion. Today, if she is remembered at all, it is typically unkindly.
Daniel Mark Epstein’s The Lincolns: Portrait of a Marriage invites you to take a more holistic view of a complicated woman, caught in a complicated relationship. While not a biography of Mary alone, she is finally given equal billing with her illustrious husband. Overall, Epstein treats her with compassion, but he can also be unsparing. This embracing of the good, the bad, and the contradictory make for a thought-provoking book.
The first thing that needs to be mentioned is that Portrait of a Marriage is intensely and admirably focused. Unlike many histories, which promise one thing in the subtitle, only to deliver another, Epstein is serious about keeping the narrative solely about the Lincoln marriage, to the avoidance of nearly everything else.
Certainly, this is a good thing – few of the 512 pages of text are wasted – but it comes with a warning: This is a better literary experience if you’ve already read a book or three or ten about the sixteenth president. That’s because Epstein isn’t too concerned about filling in any context. Indeed, he starts this tale with events already in motion, and with Abe Lincoln having just broken off his engagement to Mary (don’t worry – they get back together).
Epstein’s task, at its most basic level, is extremely difficult. A marriage can be an unknowable thing, not only to outsiders, but to the people living it as well. Not only does Epstein have to pierce this semi-impenetrable veil, but he has to reach far into the past to do so (hampered by the fact that eldest son Robert Lincoln got rid of many of his parent's less-flattering and more-personal correspondence). Epstein mostly accomplishes his goal by deep research, reasoned speculation, and lively, entertaining prose.
Portrait of a Marriage certainly adds to our understanding of Abraham Lincoln apart from his world-historical activities. Instead of dwelling on him as Commander-in-Chief during America’s bloodiest conflict, we discover a different Lincoln altogether, a Lincoln who was vacillating and indecisive in love (Mary Todd was the second engagement that Lincoln broke), a Lincoln who worried about contracting syphilis, a Byron-loving Lincoln whose ruminations about love are hilariously awkward across the centuries. This is a portrait of an evolving father, who essentially gave up on disciplining his children after Robert, and who had much closer relationships with Willie and Tad than he did with his firstborn, who survived them all. We see an indulgent and patient husband, almost Job-like in his ability to withstand his wife's tantrums and mood swings.
Epstein’s portrayal of Mary is even more fascinating, and nuanced. At times, the tempestuous, perennially-immature, uncouth, tone-deaf woman of legend comes to the fore. She took out her jealousies on others, especially young women (such as famed beauty Kate Chase) who she thought attracted her husband’s deeply sad eyes. Almost an entire chapter is spent on a spending spree in New York City, where Mary racked up enormous debts that she then tried to hide from her husband and Congress. As a therapy shopper myself, I understand the impulse, but she dropped sums that are jaw dropping even today, without adjusting for inflation.
At other times, you see a much more sympathetic depiction: A woman who loved her children and tried to protect them; who was dealt great losses early and often, and formulated a response to that; who was politically shrewd and of strong, well-formed beliefs; who provided advice and thrust to her ambitious husband (or perhaps gave him some of her own ambition, as her stated goal was to marry a man who'd be president); and who visited wounded and dying soldiers without flinching. She was also involved in a debilitating carriage accident that – in light of what we know about concussions – may have altered her brain chemistry. On top of all that, she shared her life with a melancholic husband who was a bit distracted trying to save democracy.
One of the things that struck me most in Portrait of a Marriage is Epstein’s fine handling of Abraham Lincoln’s final hours, unconscious and dying in a boarding house across the street from Ford’s Theater. During this long death watch, Mary was alternately crying, screaming hysterically, and fainting. Frankly, I find that these are all within the range of acceptable emotional responses when your spouse has been murdered while sitting next to you, holding your hand. Secretary of War Edwin Stanton, though, disagreed, and shouted: “Take that woman out and do not let her in again!”
And thus Lincoln died surrounded by his political acquaintances, his generals, a bevy of useless doctors, and a historical sightseer or two, while his wife awaited the news in the parlor, banned from entering further.
Certainly, Mary Lincoln was a difficult personality, but it is hard not to read a powerful strain of male chauvinism into reactions towards her, both then and now.
Epstein ends his book with the death of Lincoln, refusing to follow Mary’s solitary journey into declining mental health, increasing isolation, and death at the age of sixty-three. I was fine with this decision, since Portrait of a Marriage is full to brimming with sadness and despair, and I really did not want to continue this particular journey much longer.
Mary Todd was married to Abraham Lincoln for twenty-three years. When she met him, he was a gangly young lawyer and political hopeful. By the time their marriage ended, on April 15, 1865, that same man had altered the trajectory of world events, with her by his side. With Abraham Lincoln’s passing, he no longer belonged to his wife, but to history and time itself. That must have made their separation all the more personally wrenching. Mary may not deserve her husband’s immortality, but she certainly deserves better than she has received from posterity.