Episode 2.5 The War Drags On

[Transcript]

Hello, and welcome to America’s First Ladies. I’m your host, Risa Weaver-Enion.

Episode 2.5 The War Drags On

Before we begin, I wanted to add a trigger warning and spoiler alert to this episode. It contains a fairly harrowing description of stillbirth. So if this is something you have experienced, this episode may be difficult to listen to.

When we left off last week, John had finally returned to Braintree after an absence of eight months. During those eight months, Common Sense was published, the Declaration of Independence was signed, and Abigail and the children were inoculated against smallpox.

It had been an eventful year, and Abigail was thrilled to once again have her husband by her side. Because a great deal of what we know about Abigail and John’s life comes from their letters to each other, there’s less to say about the times they were together. Obviously they weren’t writing letters to each other when they were in the same house.

We do know that John spent most of his time in Braintree with the family, as opposed to Watertown with the state legislature, as he had done on his two previous visits home from Philadelphia. Presumably he spent some time addressing all those problems Abigail outlined for him in her letter insisting that he come home soon, especially the house in Boston.

While he was home, John was once again named as a delegate to Congress, and he departed in mid-January, but he wasn’t heading to Philadelphia. Because the British were within striking distance of Philadelphia, Congress had convened in Baltimore, Maryland for the time being. John rode to Baltimore with one of the new delegates from Massachusetts, James Lovell. 

Lovell had been imprisoned in Novia Scotia by the British for being a spy in occupied Boston. After a year and a half, he was freed in a prisoner exchange and then named to Congress by the Massachusetts legislature. He remained in Congress for the duration of the war, becoming the longest sitting delegate in the process. He will soon become an important correspondent for Abigail.

Speaking of our girl Abigail, she wasn’t thrilled when John left again for Congress, especially because she was pregnant again. Little Tommy had just turned 4 in September, and Abigail was only 32, so it wasn’t terribly unusual that she had gotten pregnant on John’s visit.

In the eighteenth century, pregnancy and other intimate topics were taboo and not discussed openly. Therefore, Abigail and John used a variety of euphemisms to discuss the pregnancy in letters. Abigail first wrote to her friend Mercy Otis Warren, “Many circumstances conspire to make this Seperation more greivious to me than any which has before taken place. I had it in my Heart to disswade him from going and I know I could have prevaild. But our publick affairs at that time wore so gloomy an aspect that I thought if ever his assistance was wanted, it must be at such a time. I therefore resignd my self to suffer much anxiety and many Melancholy hours for this year to come.”

John arrived in Baltimore after a grueling three-week winter journey. With the British occupying New York, he had to take a round-about route across the mountains of eastern Massachusetts and southern New York, riding on difficult trails through fierce snowstorms. But his thoughts were with Abigail. In his first letter to her he wrote, “I am anxious to hear how you do. I have in my Mind a Source of Anxiety, which I never had before. You know what it is. Cant you convey to me, in Hieroglyphicks, which no other Person can comprehend, Information which will relieve me. Tell me you are as well as can be expected.”

Abigail replied, “You make some inquiries which tenderly affect me. I think upon the whole I have enjoyed as much Health as I ever did in the like situation, a situation I do not repine at, tis a constant remembrancer of an absent Friend, and excites sensations of tenderness which are better felt than expressed.”

I should probably note that calling one’s spouse a “friend” in this time period was a term of endearment. It indicated a much more intimate relationship than it would to us today. Abigail and John often addressed their letters to each other “Dearest Friend” or something similar.

Her good health aside, Abigail had worries about the pregnancy, as she probably had with her previous pregnancies, but John had been with her for all of the previous pregnancies. This time, she could only write to him about her fears regarding childbirth, which we know was quite dangerous at this time. “How great the mind that can overcome the fear of Death! How anxious the Heart of a parent who looks round upon a family of young and helpless children and thinks of leaving them to a World full of snares and temptations which they have neither discretion to foresee, nor prudence to avoid.”

Abigail was melancholy for other reasons. She was stuck at home through a snowy winter. Her cow had frozen to death and she had to purchase a replacement. She heard that General Charles Lee had been captured by the British, and his dog Spada, the one she had shaken paws with, had either been killed or was missing. And her younger sister Betsy was marrying someone she thought was totally unacceptable.

At 26, Betsy was still single and getting dangerously close to spinsterhood. She still lived at the parsonage with her widowed father. He took on boarders to help with expenses, and Betsy was now engaged to one of those boarders, a man named John Shaw. Shaw was a Calvinist minister, and although she never came right out and said it, it seems that Abigail objected to him because his religious convictions were too rigid. Calvinists were known for being very judgmental, and she preferred the more moderate approach of Congregationalism. Let’s set aside the irony of Abigail being judgmental about a man she had never met but had decided was overly judgmental because of his strain of Protestantism.

Abigail also seems to have suspected that Betsy didn’t love Shaw but was marrying him for lack of anyone better, not wanting to remain single any longer. It was also mildly scandalous that Betsy was marrying a man who had lived under the same roof as her while she was still single. Eventually, Abigail would warm to John Shaw, and he and Betsy would be instrumental in caring for Abigail’s sons when she goes to Europe in a few years.

Abigail was due to deliver her baby in July. By spring she was feeling more apprehensive, and felt that bad omens were all around. A woman she knew in Boston had died shortly after giving birth that April. In June there were unseasonably cold thunderstorms in Philadelphia, where Congress had returned, which John took as a bad omen. New England had gotten hot earlier than usual that summer, and Abigail had insomnia from the pregnancy. 

She was grateful for 12 year old Nabby, who helped her enormously, writing, “I am happy in a daughter who is both a companion and an assistant in my Family affairs and who I think has a prudence and steadiness beyond her years.”

On July 8, Abigail started a letter to John that she put down and resumed several times over the next few days; amazingly, right through her labor pains. I’m going to quote various bits and pieces as if they were one continuous stream of thought. 

“I sit down to write you this post, and from my present feelings tis the last I shall be able to write for some time. I was last night taken with a shaking fit, and am very apprehensive that a life was lost. As I have no reason today to think otherways; what may be the consequences to me, Heaven only knows. Tis now 48 hours since I can say I really enjoyed any Ease. Slow, lingering and troublesome is the present situation. The Dr. encourages me to Hope that my apprehensions are groundless. I must lay my pen down this moment, to bear what I cannot fly from—

and now I have endured it I reassume my pen. Join with me my dearest Friend in Gratitude to Heaven, that a life I know you value, has been spaired, altho the dear Infant is numberd with its ancestors. [I was] perfectly sensible of its discease as I ever before was of its existence. Tho my suffering were great thanks be to Heaven [I survived]. The circumstance which put an end to its existance, was evident upon its birth, but at this distance and In a letter which may possibly fall into the Hands of some unfealing Ruffian I must omit particulars. Suffice it to say that it was not oweing to any injury which I had sustained, nor could any care of mine have prevented it. It appeared to be a very fine babe, and as it never opened its eyes in this world, it looked as though they were only closed for sleep”

For those not following the obscure language, the child had been stillborn but we don’t know exactly why. It had apparently died in utero during the shaking fit Abigail experienced a few days before the birth. Based on a description of Abigail’s earlier symptoms of vision problems and headaches, Charles Akers speculates that Abigail was suffering from toxemia, which we know today as preeclampsia. 

It’s characterized by high blood pressure, swelling, and protein in the urine. It can be fatal for both mothers and the fetus, and there would have been no way to diagnose or treat this in 1777. When preeclampsia escalates to eclampsia, seizures can occur. This is likely what Abigail experienced. Fans of the TV show Downton Abbey may recall that eclampsia is also what killed Lady Sybil just after childbirth. 

John didn’t receive the news until the end of July. The child was a girl, and he and Abigail had intended to name her Elizabeth in honor of Abigail’s mother. John wrote to Abigail, “Never in my whole life was my heart affected with such emotions. Devoutly do I return thanks to God, whose kind providence has preserved to me a life that is dearer to me than all other blessings in the world. Is it not unaccountable, that one should feel so strong an Affection for an Infant, that one has never seen, nor shall see? Yet I must confess to you, the Loss of this sweet little Girl, has most tenderly and sensibly affected me.”

Of the three girls Abigail had given birth to, only Nabby survived. This was Abigail’s final pregnancy, and she resolved to take comfort in her daughter and three sons.

Meanwhile, the American economy was in trouble, and Abigail was constantly dealing with shortages and inflation. The British navy was blockading the East Coast, meaning few ships could arrive, which limited the number of goods being delivered to America. Congress had no ability to print money, and wouldn’t have that power until the U.S. Constitution was adopted in 1788. Each individual state printed its own currency and they were all printing far too much of it. There also was a ring of counterfeiters operating out of New Hampshire, which made matters worse.

The Massachusetts government tried to implement price controls, but some merchants simply held back their merchandise and refused to sell it at the regulated prices. Abigail told John a story about a group of Boston women who accosted a merchant (an “eminent, wealthy, stingy” merchant in Abigail’s words) and forced him to turn over the keys to his warehouse, where they then confiscated a large barrel of coffee that he had been stockpiling.

Finding men to work the farm was a continual problem for Abigail. Besides losing men to the Continental Army, a number of them joined the ranks of privateers, serving on ships authorized to plunder any enemy ships they captured. When the plundered goods were sold, the ships’ crews received a cut of the proceeds. In some cases, women were left no choice but to farm the land themselves.

John was owed a fair bit of money from past legal clients and others who had purchased the produce of his farms and promised to pay later. In the mid-1770s, the Massachusetts currency had lost about two-thirds of its value, so when these people paid their debts to the Adamses, they were receiving much less than they were really owed. Abigail decided to help offset these losses by investing in government bonds.

Congress was offering war bonds paying 6% interest, which was a great return. Investors bought the bonds, thereby giving the government much needed funds to pay and supply the troops, among other things. It was unclear how Congress would actually be able to pay the interest owed to the investors, so the value of the war bonds also depreciated, but it did so more slowly than the depreciation of paper money, so it was still a win. Abigail was worried that John would be unhappy with her investments because, as Woody Holton puts it, John had a steadfast abhorrence of all forms of financial shenanigans. So Abigail explained the situation in a letter.

“This week I propose to send in to the continental Loan office a hundred pounds’ worth of currency. If I do not explain the matter I fear you will suspect me of being concerned with the New Hampshire money makers. I have done the best in my power with what I received.” John accepted her explanation, writing in return, “I know not what would become of me, and mine, if I had not such a Friend to take Care of my Interests in my Absence.”

In the fall of 1777, Abigail received a letter from a member of Congress who was not her husband, which was very odd, but was the beginning of a long and fruitful correspondence. The letter was from John’s fellow Massachusetts delegate, James Lovell. He sent Abigail a map he sketched of the areas where the British and Continental armies were likely to engage one another. It proved useful over the next several weeks, as a series of events played out.

We covered all this in more detail in season 1 because George Washington was involved, so I’ll just briefly recap here. British General Howe’s fleet sailed out of New York Harbor on July 23, but no one knew where they were headed. Finally, on August 25, they appeared in the Chesapeake Bay, headed for Philadelphia. Washington and his troops were defeated at the Battle of Brandywine Creek on September 11. Congress evacuated Philadelphia, retreating to Lancaster and then to York. On September 25-26, the British marched into Philadelphia and occupied it. On October 4, Washington was defeated again at Germantown, but then on October 17, Generals Gates and Arnold managed a stunning victory against General Burgoygne at Saratoga.

In November 1777, John’s current appointment to Congress was about to expire, so he obtained a leave of absence and came home. He had been gone for 10 months, and these long absences were hard on him and the family.

Most of the original delegates to Congress had returned to their previous lives. Of the original Massachusetts delegates, only John was still serving. He was delighted to be back on his farm, and was thinking of reviving his law practice. Many of his former colleagues in law were rich men now, thanks to a bounty of lawsuits taking place. He accepted a case that took him to Portsmouth, New Hampshire in early December. As it turns out, this would be the last legal case he ever handled.

While he was away, letters from Congress arrived in Braintree. Having been instructed to open any correspondence that arrived while he was away, Abigail opened them and was alarmed to discover that Congress wanted John to go to France. 

Congress had already sent a three-man delegation to France to negotiate a loan from the government of King Louis XVI. Benjamin Franklin, Arthur Lee, and Silas Deane had been sent to Paris in the fall of 1776, and had recently successfully negotiated a package of loans. But Silas Deane was embroiled in scandal, and Congress wanted to replace him with John. 

A packet of three letters was sent, along with the official commission to the French court. One letter was from Henry Laurens of South Carolina, who was the new president of Congress, one letter was jointly signed by Richard Henry Lee and James Lovell on behalf of the Committee for Foreign Affairs, and then there was a separate letter from Lovell. The Committee’s letter said, “We are by no means willing to indulge a thought of your declining this important service.” Lovell’s separate letter expressed some concern about Benjamin Franklin’s advanced age, and added, “We want one man of inflexible integrity on the embassy.”

Because Abigial and James Lovell were already correspondents, she sent a reply to him, expressing her extreme concern over this new commission. “And can I, sir, consent to be separated from him whom my heart esteems above all earthly things, and for an unlimited time? My life will be one continued scene of anxiety and apprehension, and must I cheerfully comply with the demand of my country?”

There was never any serious doubt that either John or Abigail would fail to comply with this demand. But it was an enormous demand. 

The timing also couldn’t be worse. Crossing the Atlantic Ocean in the 18th century was daunting enough in good weather. But crossing in the middle of winter was highly dangerous because of the fierce storms that could arise out of nowhere. Not to mention the fact that there was a war going on. Because he had signed the Declaration of Independence, John was high on the list of traitors that England would love to capture and either imprison or execute. The possibility of attack, either by the British Navy or by privateers, was a serious one.

Despite all this, Abigail and John seriously considered going to France as a family. Abigail was struggling with the idea of being separated by an entire ocean. But in the end, they decided that because of the dangers posed by the crossing, the expense of living as a family in France, and the fact that there would be no one to run the family farm if they both left, Abigail and the children would stay behind.

They did, however, also decide that their eldest son, John Quincy, would accompany John to France. I’ve been referring to him by his childhood nickname of Johnny thus far, but he’s at the beginning of what will be a long and impressive diplomatic and political career, so let’s call him by his formal name now.

John Quincy was 10 ½ years old in the winter of 1777-78. His father had been away for most of the past three years, so this expedition to France was thought to be a good chance for father and son to reconnect. And the opportunity to see a foreign country and learn another language was too good to be missed.

John and John Quincy set sail from Quincy Bay on February 14, 1778 on a 24-gun frigate named Boston. They took with them a servant named Joseph Stephens, ink, paper, account books, 25 quill pens, a dozen clay pipes, tobacco, a pocket-sized pistol, 2 hogs, 2 fat sheep, 72 chickens, 5 bushels of corn, 168 eggs, a keg of rum, a barrel of madeira, 48 bottles of port wine, tea, chocolate, brown sugar, mustard, pepper, a box of wafers, a bag of Indian meal, and a barrel of apples. It sounds like they were packed for an epic dinner party, not a dangerous 3000-mile sea voyage. This was not only John Quincy’s first time on a ship, but it was also John’s first experience.

I’m going to quote a long passage from David McCullough’s book John Adams, because it’s too vivid to paraphrase. “A hardened seaman like Captain Tucker knew what the Atlantic could deliver up in February: the chances of being hit by a northeaster and driven onto the shoals of Cape Cod, graveyard of ships; the sheer terror of winter storms at sea when freezing spray aloft could turn to ice so heavy as to cause a ship to capsize. Navigation, never a simple matter, became difficult in the extreme from a violently pitching deck and with a horizon distorted by breaking seas, or, in the absence of sun and stars, quite impossible.

Adams was leaving his wife, children, friends, his home, his livelihood, everything he loved. He was risking his life and that of his small son, risking capture and who knew what horrors and indignities as a prisoner, all to begin ‘new business’ for which he felt ill suited, knowing nothing of European politics or diplomacy and unable to speak French, the language of diplomacy. He had never in his life laid eyes on a King or Queen, or the Foreign Minister of a great power, never set foot in a city of more than 30,000 people. At age forty-two he was bound for an unimaginably distant world apart, with very little idea of what was in store and every cause to be extremely apprehensive.”

Meanwhile, Abigail wrote to a friend just after their departure, “And now cannot you immagine me seated by my fire side Bereft of my better Half, and added to that a Limb lopt off to heighten the anguish. … I resign my own personal felicity and look for my satisfaction in the Consciousness of having discharged my duty to the publick.”

Abigail would have to wait an unbearably long time to hear news of John and John Quincy’s crossing, which was long and difficult. The ship only made it to Marblehead, Massachusetts before a snowstorm reduced visibility to zero and forced them to wait two days before continuing. But then fair weather enabled them to clear the dangers of Cape Cod and get out onto the open sea. 

On their second day at sea, they spotted a group of three British frigates. They kept their distance, but one of the British ships pursued them. For the next two days they played cat and mouse with the British frigate, but then a fierce storm blew in and the Boston’s main mast was struck by lightning. John wrote in his diary, 

“[The ship] shuddered…darted from side to side…all hands were called, and with much difficulty the guns were all got in and secured. It was with the utmost difficulty that my little son and I could hold ourselves in bed with both our hands, and bracing ourselves against the boards, planks, and timbers with our feet. … The sails were all hauled down by a foresail…and we were left with bare poles entirely at the mercy of wind and water. The noises were such that we could not hear each other speak at any distance.”

The next morning brought clear weather, but they had been blown several hundred miles off course by the storm. Twenty of the crew had been injured in the storm, and one died.

For the next few weeks things remained calm. Many others making the crossing with them were French soldiers returning home after serving with the Continental Army. One took John Quincy under his wing and tutored him in French. John was also studying his French for the entire journey.

On March 10, they spotted a British cruiser, a heavily armed merchantman ship flying the British flag. The Boston fired one shot, the merchantman fired three in return. But when the merchantman caught sight of the Boston’s more formidable array of cannons, they surrendered. No one could say John’s crossing was uneventful.

On March 30, six weeks and four days after departing the Massachusetts coast, the Boston anchored at Bordeaux, after being piloted up the Gironde River. John was invited to dine on a French warship anchored nearby, and it was there he learned that the alliance with France that he had been sent to help negotiate had been signed on February 6, before John had even left home.

It took them several days to ride from Bordeaux to Paris by carriage. They finally arrived on April 8. John’s first visit the next morning was to Benjamin Franklin, who then took charge of their social calendar, introducing John to everyone. Franklin lived in the village of Passy, between Paris and Versailles, where the court was located. John moved into Silas Deane’s old quarters in the house that had been put at Franklin’s disposal by the Frenchman who owned it. John Quincy was enrolled in a nearby boarding school.

Just a quick note here about French pronunciation. In most cases, I’ll try to pronounce French names and places properly, but as an American person would pronounce French, not with the overly French pronunciation. For example, Versailles would be pronounced vechr-saye by an actual French person, but vair-saye by an American speaking French. Paris is pronounced pah-ree by the French, but pair-is by us. So I’m going with Paris. I don’t want the pronunciation to be jarring for the listener. So, back to the show.

Franklin introduced John to King Louis’s Foreign Minister, Charles Gravier, Comte de Vergennes, who will be referred to as Vergennes from here on out. Everyone John met was friendly, respectful, and polite. When he wasn’t paying visits, he worked on his French and bought every book that was recommended to him. He also frequently attended the theater, often taking John Quincy with him.

On May 8, 1778, John was formally presented to 24-year-old King Louis XVI of France. John was dressed in a brand-new wardrobe of French clothes, wearing a wig and a dress sword, which was required at the palace. It was a brief encounter, held during the King’s levée, his elaborate morning ceremony of being dressed.

While John was busy galllivanting around Paris and Versailles in company with Franklin, Abigail was left worried about whether or not he and John Quincy had even arrived safely. She was in correspondence both with James Lovell and also with John’s former law clerk John Thaxter, Jr., who was serving as a clerk in Congress. She figured that either of them would receive news before she could.

There were rumors that the Boston had been sunk, and near the end of May, a loyalist newspaper printed that the ship had been captured by the British. Abigail had no way of knowing what was true.

Trans-Atlantic communication was exceedingly slow, and not very reliable. In the best weather, a ship could cross the Atlantic in four weeks; in bad weather, it could easily stretch to eight weeks. Then there was the possibility of sinking or being captured. If a ship sank, any letters it was carrying went down with it. If a ship was captured, the crew generally threw the bags of letters overboard to avoid having them fall into enemy hands. It was impossible to know whether any given letter would make the crossing safely.

In mid-June, Abigail finally learned that John and John Quincy had safely arrived in Bordeaux. The Boston had, indeed, been captured by the British, but not until after departing from Bordeaux. She finally received letters from her husband and son at the end of June. John Quincy wrote that he enjoyed France and his school, and gave her an account of his daily schedule. John described the French men and ladies he had met and interacted with. “The Delights of France are innumerable. Stern and hauty Republican as I am, I cannot help loving these People.” 

I should point out that when John refers to himself as a republican, he doesn’t mean a political party. Those don’t exist yet. What he means is that he is a person who supports a republic form of government, as opposed to a monarchy. It’s what the Americans were hoping to establish for themselves after getting out from under the thumb of the British monarchy.

Abigail wouldn’t receive another letter from John until late October. For those keeping track, that’s two letters in eight months. John’s sojourn in France was going to be a difficult time for Abigail. Over the next six and a half years, she would only spend four months with John by her side.

Next week, we’ll learn more about what Abigail accomplishes while John is away.

Thanks for listening to this episode. It was produced by me, and the music is by Matthew Dull. I would love it if you could recommend this podcast to a friend so I can reach more people. Thanks!