Abigail Adams

Engraving by Joh Sartain

Abigail Adams was the wife of the second president of the United States. She and her husband, John Adams, had a relationship, preserved for us in their letters to each other, which shaped them, as did their work as founding mothers and fathers.

Abigail was born in 1744 in Massachusetts. She was 15 when she first met John. They were unimpressed with each other, but soon began writing bantering letters back and forth. Abigail had been educated only to domestic management, but she “read too much,” even in French. They married in 1764 and lived in John’s small house on a 60-acre farm near Braintree, Massachusetts, where John also practiced law.

It turned out to be a rare match of equals. John was mercurial, ambitious for fame. Abigail created a calm and comfortable home, becoming the ballast to his insecurity. They had four children. John began to write articles for the newspapers, complaining that the British colonists had begun to feel more like subjects rather than equals. His articles were the clearest and most powerful expression of colonial anger. All of a sudden, John was famous. Though warned it would jeopardize his career, John didn’t quit. Abigail was also defiant, supporting him.

John left for the Continental Congress in Philadelphia while Abigail managed the farm and their children for four years beginning in 1774. They wrote many letters, which took two or three weeks in the mail. But it became a conversation. “My pen is freer than my speech,” wrote Abigail. They longed for each other. John thought their letters important, that Abigail’s were better than his. Abigail pressed for women’s rights and education. She watched as the British evacuated Boston.

Abigail took the family to be inoculated against smallpox. John came home, but was only there for three months before he was asked to go to France to negotiate with the British. He took his oldest son, John Quincy with him. Abigail was devastated. Letters were much harder to come by. Some were thrown overboard off ships. In France, John could do little. He went to Amsterdam, achieving loans for the colonists, and then back to France, to make sure the newly formed United States retained its sovereignty.

Finally, in 1744, at 40, Abigail braved the Atlantic crossing and joined John. They rented a large house near Paris and learned the ornate etiquette of European capitals. Abigail was not used to such luxury. It struck her as decadent. Everyone was acting. The Adamses became close to Thomas Jefferson who was a frequent guest. Jefferson had not previously met women who were as intellectually capable as Abigail.

When John and Abigail were then sent to England, their reception was frosty. They were at the Court of St. James for three years, but hostilities didn’t cease. Abigail wanted to go home. “I am more American than ever,” she wrote. When they were able to go home, they bought a large house in the same town as their farm. John began writing notes on a constitution. Abigail wanted him to retire, but John wanted to claim his place in the new federal government he had done so much to create.

Receiving the next amount of electoral votes to George Washington, John became vice president. He presided over the senate in New York. A rented house became their social headquarters, with Abigail as hostess. For John’s second term, however, when the government moved to Philadelphia, Abigail stayed home. She had begun to have bouts of rheumatoid arthritis. In 1796, Washington stepped down and John became president. Abigail predicted it would be a “most unpleasant seat,” but “I dare not influence you,” she told John.

Abigail was right. Hamilton and the “extreme Federalists” were pulling in one direction, while Jefferson and his republicans were intriguing and pulling in the other. John would have liked to remain above the fray, as Washington had, but this was no longer possible. When the government moved to the new capital on the Potomac, John wrote to Abigail, “you must come, I can do nothing without you.”

Hamilton wanted to recruit an army to withstand a French invasion, but John felt that the country was too young to stand another war. He sent a delegation to sue for peace. In the end Napoleon’s army was spread too thin and nothing came of the conflict. John lost control of his presidency, however. His achievements had all been done by himself alone. He had never managed staff. Abigail thought him too contrarian to rule. When he realized he would not get a second term, he was glad.

Abigail and John retired to their home in Braintree. Of their four children, only John Quincy was a success. Nabby and Thomas came to live with their parents, bringing their children. Charles died of alcoholism and his family also arrived. When John Quincy was sent to Russia, his children also lived with Abigail and John, bringing the number of grandchildren to 15!  John sat writing in the middle of the melee, with Abigail as the center of gravity in the household.

John was trying to protect his legacy and settle scores. He began writing to Jefferson late in life, repairing their enmity as if it had never happened. The loss of her daughter Nabby to cancer brought Abigail to despair, but she reigned supreme until 1818, when a sudden illness felled her. She was 74.

The 250th anniversary of America’s birth next year is prompting our interest. Abigail’s letters are frequently quoted in the Ken Burns’ documentary, The American Revolution, and I have taken much of her story from First Family: Abigail and John Adams by Joseph Ellis [published 2010]. As the historical dust settles, the courage and hard work of our founding parents emerges, their successes and failures. Abigail’s common sense, her intelligence and her support of her volatile husband are to be celebrated.