April 26, 2016

Dear Mr. Jefferson,

You and I ought not be renewed before we have conferred again with each other. I may find your manner to be odious at times. But the Union is still to me an object of much greater anxiety, as much as ever Independence was, and so as I confess that your mind and pen are gifts bestowed upon Americans for reference, I seek your counsel.

I have become familiar with a text entitled “The Wells Report,” and I have enclosed this peculiar document for your reading. Despite its plain disregard for science and law, and despite the corrupt nature of its origins and methods, there appears to be little power or willingness among the people to stifle implementation of penalties related to its decision, as though the document is at once unjust and unassailable.

I thus read within its pages not trite examinations of referees and ball sacks or bathhouse stalls, but a harbinger. If the people are not provided the tools to properly distinguish between truth and fallacy and furthermore have come to view truth as a common victim to more potent and inexorable powers, I fear the dawning of a dark and traumatic era for our republic. As there never was a democracy yet that did not commit suicide, I fear America may be at present knotting its own noose.

Having so long together fought against tyranny, I need not point out the names of men by whom this union has been put in jeopardy. And I need not point out the names of men by whom this union has been preserved. Your recollection can be no more less than mine.

Though I disturb your long sleep with sincerest regrets, the document has so deeply disturbed my own that I beg your mind’s inspection.

I am as ever,

John Adams

p.s. Abigail relays her greetings and asks if you are not still laying with your servants.