Marriage: can we talk?

by Msgr. Thomas J. McSweeney

Until recently, my only image of Abigail Adams, the wife of this nation’s second president, John Adams, came from the Broadway musical 1776 in which she appears as the only female character. She is the only person who could draw out the loving side of her husband’s otherwise acerbic personality.

From time to time the couple are seated at opposite ends of the stage writing letters that try to erase the distance forced upon them by the exigencies of the American Revolution. It’s an evocative portrayal of marriage under extraordinary pressure in extraordinary times.

At the time I thought how enlightening the Adams correspondence would be for anyone interested in the institution’s changes over time, even as it remains fundamentally the same.

So when I picked up Steve and Cokie Roberts’ best-selling book, From This Day Forward, I was delighted to find not only the story of John and Abigail but also an assortment of other stories that illustrate the persistent issues of love and marriage, work and family, parents and children. What is particularly remarkable about the Roberts’ treatment is their shared view that - despite all the hand-wringing and cynicism about the institution of marriage - there is every reason for hope.

For the Roberts, the Adams’ letters reinforce a simple point: "Communication is to a marriage what sunlight is to a plant: a basic necessity." When the Adamses celebrated their golden anniversary, Abigail told the gathering that her only unhappiness with John came from that long separation during the Revolutionary years. Yet, the Roberts show how the beleaguered couple used that turbulent period to support and strengthen their union while continuing to grow and change as individuals.

For instance, John and Abigail differed, sometimes heatedly, about the education of their daughters. Determined that girls not be deprived of an education, Abigail used every opening to argue the issue. In time John seems to acquiesce: "The education of our children is never out of my mind. Train them to virtue, habituate them to industry, activity and spirit . . . it is time, my dear, for you to teach them French."

But Abigail’s concerns were not only domestic ones. Thinking ahead to the new laws of an independent United States, Abigail wrote: "I desire you would remember the ladies, and be more favorable to them than your ancestors. Do not put such unlimited power into the hands of husbands. Remember all men would be tyrants if they could. If attention is not paid to the ladies we are determined to foment a rebellion."

John’s response was less than tactful: "I cannot but laugh . . . in practice you know we [men] are the subjects. We have only the name of masters, and rather than give up this, which would completely subject us to the despotism of the petticoat, I hope General Washington . . . would fight."

Still, reading their letters, you get a sense of their ability to disagree without overstepping each other’s bounds. You also learn that their love endured all things. Abigail wrote: "The age of romance has long ago past, but the affection of almost infant years has matured and strengthened." John signed off: "Yours, with more ardor than ever - The Happiest Man on Earth."

When a couple experiences the inevitable trials that come with decades of marriage, yet feel happiness and ardor, they are not lucky - they are committed. And that will be just as true in another two hundred years.