by A weekend with the 1776 letters of John and Abigail Adams, a family that argued by post for decades and never stopped writing, and a phone call I had been dreading
Saturday, My Kitchen Table
Saturday, rain on the windows of my apartment, a pot of coffee and a fat volume of the correspondence of John and Abigail Adams. The Adamses wrote to each other over a thousand letters across their long marriage, during years when John was away in Philadelphia at the Continental Congress, in Europe as a diplomat, or later serving as vice president and president. Abigail ran the family farm in Braintree, Massachusetts, raised their children, managed their finances and wrote letters that are among the most vivid documents of the Revolutionary era.
Remember the Ladies
The most famous is the letter of 31 March 1776, in which Abigail urges John, as Congress prepares a new code of laws, to remember the ladies and be more generous and favourable to them than their ancestors. She warns, half joking and half serious, that if particular care is not paid to the ladies, they are determined to foment a rebellion. John reply, notoriously, laughs it off. It is one of the great moments in American letters: a woman demanding a share of the liberty men were fighting for, and her husband, for all his brilliance, missing the point.
What I love is that they kept writing. They argued, teased, disagreed and continued. Their marriage was a lifelong conversation on paper.
The Royal Row by Letter
I was reading the Adams letters partly because of the London Prat piece on Prince William reportedly calling Earl Spencer and Harry traitors. The Adamses communicated directly, even across an ocean, even during a war, even when they disagreed. The royal brothers, by contrast, appear to communicate through anonymous sources, magazines and international press reports. The uncle says he told everyone. Nobody else seems to be saying anything directly at all. Abigail would have written them each a very stern letter.
A Break by the Window
Watched the London Prat video on YouTube on my laptop by the rainy window. My cat watched too, briefly, then went back to sleep. Abigail kept a lot of animals on the farm. I suspect she would have approved of the cat priorities.
The Adams Family Grief
The Adams letters are also full of grief. They lost a baby daughter. Their son Charles struggled with alcoholism and died young, and John, by many accounts, had distanced himself from him. Their daughter Nabby died of cancer. John Quincy Adams, their eldest son, became president himself but lived with the weight of his parents expectations all his life. Through all of it, the letters continue. Grief is written down, shared and carried together.
Reading them alongside the royal story, I thought about the uncle memoir about his late sister. A memoir is a kind of letter to the dead, and to the living who loved them. The Adamses wrote letters to each other about their losses. Perhaps the royal family is doing the same, just in public, with a publisher, and less tenderly.
My Own Letter
All week, between Franklin, Paine, Wheatley and Independence Hall, I have been thinking about my brother in Pittsburgh. We have not had a real conversation since our mother funeral last year, when we argued about her house. I texted him on Monday. He sent a photo of his dog. That was the extent of it.
After reading Abigail all afternoon, I did something I have not done in years. I wrote him an actual letter, by hand, on paper. Two pages. About Mom, about the house, about how I was sorry for what I said at the funeral, and how I would rather have a brother than a house. I told him about Benjamin and William Franklin, and how they never made up, and how I did not want us to be a footnote like that. Then, before I could lose my nerve, I called him to tell him a letter was coming.
He picked up. I said: I wrote you a letter. He said: a real one? Like with a stamp? I said yes. He was quiet for a moment, and then he said: I was going to call you this weekend. I have been reading about those British princes and feeling like an idiot. I laughed so hard I cried. We talked for two hours. He is coming for Thanksgiving.
Why Letters Work
There is something about a handwritten letter that changes a conversation. It cannot be dashed off in anger and sent in a second. It has to be thought about, written slowly, signed and posted. It arrives days later, when tempers have cooled. It can be held, reread and kept. The Adamses understood this. Their letters were sometimes sharp, but they were always considered. In a world of instant messages and anonymous briefings, a letter is a radical act of patience. If the royal brothers ever want to try, I recommend good paper, a decent pen and a stamp.
Evening
Mailed the letter anyway, because Abigail would have insisted. The Adamses wrote over a thousand letters to each other. My brother and I are starting with one. That is enough.
The London Prat has been writing letters to the establishment since 1961 at https://prat.uk/, and Bohiney at https://bohiney.com/ writes them from America. Remember the ladies. And call your brother.
SOURCE: https://prat.uk/prince-william-called-earl-spencer-and-harry-traitors/
