Reviewed by: Liberty and Insanity in the Age of the American Revolution by Sarah L. Swedberg David Thomas (bio) Liberty, Madness, Mental illness, Rationality, Political culture Liberty and Insanity in the Age of the American Revolution. By Sarah L. Swedberg. (Lanham, MD: Lexington Books, 2021. Pp. 267. Cloth, $110.00.) [End Page 118] In the opening sentence of Sarah L. Swedberg's incisive new book, we read that Revolutionary-era Americans "saw madness everywhere" (1). They suspected it in the halls of government and felt it in action out-of-doors; they read of it in their newspapers and discerned it in the wartime economy; they suffered it on the battlefield and strained against it within their homes. The story of this ubiquitous madness that most interests the author is not, however, the well-studied rise of the asylum in the early republic. This book, instead, investigates how the upheavals of the Revolution prompted Americans to articulate "their concerns about the world around them through the medical language of mental illness" (2). Liberty, of course, was one of those concerns, and Swedberg convincingly argues that Americans living through the Revolution considered liberty and insanity as inherently intertwined. Swedberg charts the intersections of liberty and insanity in political and medical discourse along three trajectories: the common assumption that social conflict spurred madness, the widespread agreement that government should be rational, and the differentiation of friends and enemies via the language of insanity. These uses all relied on a conceptual overlapping of the political body and the human body. Chapter 1, which lays much of the theoretical foundation, uses stories of forced institutionalization to elucidate the tensions between liberty and tyranny throughout the Anglo-American world. Alongside expected considerations of the power inherent to medical diagnosis and the case of James Otis, Swedberg offers some provocative surprises. For example, she reads accounts from institutionalized patients alongside political protest pamphlets and captivity narratives and tells the lesser-known story of war hero John Macpherson who was confined in Philadelphia through the machinations of his wife and John Dickinson. Chapters 2 through 8 then unfold chronologically from the Revolution's earliest protests through the Washington presidency. Each chapter offers a different thematic focus as well. For example, Chapter 8, which, along with the first chapter, might be the book's best, centers foreign policy and attitudes toward the French Revolution. Two specific strengths of the book are worth noting. First, Swedberg insists on holding the dual concepts of the title together with an "and" rather than simply opposing them with an "or." It is astounding how much Revolutionary thinkers fretted about madness arising from good government and the enjoyment of liberty even as they decried a loss of liberty to tyrannical government. Too much liberty, or even, too much [End Page 119] enthusiasm about liberty, had produced what Benjamin Rush called Anarchia, a new "species of insanity" (8). Even more worrisome, republics were especially prone to the malady, being a form of government that demanded constant attention to freedom and extreme exertions that taxed the minds and bodies composing the body politic. Additionally, to sober Revolutionaries, excessive love of liberty urged some Americans to embrace the "madness of democracy" (187) whether in the form of the "mad zeal" (83) of the mob or the "party rage" (186) of early elections. Second, from a formal array of Parliamentary speeches, political pamphlets, and medical treatises to the daily world of letters, newspapers, and anecdotes, Swedberg has uncovered seemingly every lurid, medico-political diagnosis of "American Fever" (214) in the archives. Each account bolsters her point that no one was immune in early America. Even America's beloved, well-mannered George Washington appeared mad to the Democratic-Republicans. One writer denounced his farewell address as replete with "political diseases" and the "loathings of a sick mind" (229). The arresting quotes, however, also accentuate the moments when it remains unclear if early Americans really did see the madness everywhere. On occasion, the line between rhetorical analysis and empirical description blurs. For instance, Swedberg's militiamen at Lexington were, in her own words, "certainly crazed from too little sleep and too much adrenaline" (109). Additionally, sheer volume ensures some...
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