My Dearest Friend: Letters of Abigail and John Adams, Edited by Margaret A. Hogan and C. James Taylor, Harvard University Press, 528 pp., $35
Generations from now, what will your personal writings reveal about you and the time in which you lived? Would you want them preserved, or destroyed? Former first lady Martha Washington destroyed most of her letters from George. Mother Teresa had not wanted her letters to see daylight.
Fortunately, the illustrious Adams family of Massachusetts has been careful to preserve the remarkable correspondence of John and Abigail. More than a thousand letters exist, which have generated many collections since the first (severely edited) one was first published in 1876.
Now, readers can enjoy a new view of these prolific writers who were so devoted to each other and to their country. "My Dearest Friend: Letters of Abigail and John Adams" is an extraordinary set of 289 of their personal letters.
The country changed in epic fashion during the 40-plus years this collection spans, from their youthful flirtations in 1762 Colonial America to John's re-election defeat in 1801, and they were at the center of most of the changes.
John, a keen observer of people and events, was often away from Abigail and their children for months at a time. He traveled for his momentous work at the Continental Congress, his appointments as political minister and commissioner to different countries, and as vice president and president.
Abigail had a vibrant intellect, a strong moral compass, and the practical skills that come from single-handedly managing a family and a New England farm. She would weave in quotes from Shakespeare and other great writers in her letters, and often playfully signed off as "Portia," the wife of a Roman patriot.
In the class-obsessed 1700s, John often felt at a disadvantage, since he came from a family of moderate means. Throughout his life, he protected his good name with meticulous care, and relied on Abigail as his most trusted adviser, especially during times of political turmoil.
Each was the other's "dearest friend."
Editors Margaret A. Hogan and C. James Taylor, who are also the editors of the Adams papers at the Massachusetts Historical Society, have deliberately crafted this volume for recreational historical reading, not for scholarly research. Beyond a page of introductory text for each chapter, a timeline, and an index, John and Abigail speak for themselves, in original spelling and punctuation.
The style works, beautifully. There are many books on these two that provide context and background; this one, in which John and Abigail's voices soar unencumbered over the pages, is a lovely addition to the Adams shelf.
You can't help but feel a little guilty reading these rich exchanges, since they were borne of long separations, with mail delivery that was slow at best, and during wartime, unreliable. Even the act of writing could be difficult: in one letter, Abigail talks about a winter so cold, the ink freezes in her pen.
But primitive technology offers some advantages. Most letters stand on their own as well-formed, complete essays. The obvious contrast is with today's slapdash notes - a byproduct of instant communication and plentiful resources.
Abigail provides a full picture of daily life in Braintree: the strong family bonds, the community, and the ever-present threat of deadly diseases such as smallpox or dysentery. She debates her husband on the rights of women, and sends gripping accounts of the Battle of Bunker Hill.
John's letters describe the towering men he works with and the heavy political decisions that face him. They long for each other, Abigail at one point asking, "Who shall give me back Time?" But, she notes "should I wish you less wise, that I might enjoy more happiness? I cannot find that in my heart."
John, literally at the table of history, shares the highs and lows of America's fight for freedom. In 1776 he writes sardonically, "I have seen in this World, but a little of that pure flame of Patriotism . . . There is much of the . . . Affectation of it."
While they are apart, they endure the deaths of parents, friends, and, most heartbreaking, an infant daughter. Their elegiac letters carry an almost unbearable beauty.
They both wanted their lives to be part of a larger story, for the good of the young nation. Both were aware of the cost. As John wrote at the height of the American Revolution: "Posterity! You will never know, how much it cost the present Generation, to preserve your Freedom! I hope you will make good use of it."
Carol Iaciofano writes the blog Nine Hundred Words, at http://www.ninehundredwords.blogspot.com/.
