Posted on Nov 16, 2014 in workshop | 8 comments

I landed my first university teaching job at 28 years of age in 1972 at what was then Sangamon State University in Springfield, Illinois (now a branch of the University of Illinois).  With my family, I lived on an old, decidedly non-working farm in the country.  I did have chickens and horses in the barn, but otherwise things were a bit feral. My dogs fed on rabbits in the fields, there were lots of weeds, cars kept breaking down, and I never had enough money.  I had a freshly minted PhD in European history from the University of Chicago and was about to begin formal psychoanalytic training at the Chicago Institute for Psychoanalysis, where Heinz Kohut developed his theory of self psychology.  I was young and ambitious, perhaps a bit brash, and committed to the serious study of history from a psychoanalytic point of view.  It was something of a treat to stumble onto Abraham Lincoln.  Besides, what else can one do in Springfield, Illinois, but study Lincoln?  I found the subject utterly engrossing and spent the next decade working on a psychoanalytic study of pre-presidential Lincoln.  As I worked on it, I made a presentation on my work in a seminar that drew Kohut’s attention and led to our work together on a number of projects.

My book, Lincoln’s Quest for Union, that came out in 1982, was the first serious psychological study of Lincoln and caused quite a stir. One chapter dealt with his friendship with Joshua Speed when both were young men living in Springfield and sleeping in the same bed with each other for nearly four years before their marriages in 1842.  I have never felt people understood my argument that in this complex, textured relationship Lincoln worked through agonizing issues of intimacy.  Over the decades I have read any number of books arguing with me.  Some say, rather tendentiously, that because Lincoln and Speed slept together they must have been gay.  That literature, in turn, has prompted a slew of books that portray Lincoln as a high testosterone heterosexual male, visiting prostitutes and littering the ground with broken hearts.

It was none of the above, and a few years ago I decided to revisit the subject and develop the story of the friendship in the detail it deserves.  It is the story of Lincoln’s selfobject relationship with Speed, his most intimate and only real friend, and the ways this selfobject relationship saw Lincoln through a period of crisis bracketed by two suicidal depressions.  Lincoln’s letters to Speed just before and after his friend’s marriage, which are the most revealing of anything Lincoln ever wrote, reveal the personal meaning Lincoln found in Speed’s own uncertainties and the ways this meaning allowed Lincoln to move ahead in his marriage to Mary Todd.  The story of Lincoln’s friendship with Speed is the story of Lincoln’s development of a cohesive self that would never again risk clinical depression and that would foster what he called at Gettysburg “a new birth of freedom” for the country.

Charles Strozier