A little-known Fact: in that Line, I wrote “Sons” twice,
but struck out the second and replaced it with “Children.”

Some say I did it to appease Abigail.
Truth is, I came to my Senses.
And more than likely, She brought me there

I have rolled in my Grave, it’s true,
but not from Restlessness. From Disgust!

What Executive —or even King—
ever dared so vulgar a Gesture
and called it Patriotism?

He soils not only his Enemies,
but the Dignity of the Office itself.

I remember 1776, not as myth, but Blood and Ink.
We pledged our Lives to end the Rule of One.
If we are silent now, we forfeit that Pledge.
The Republic is not self-sustaining.
It is upheld by those who say, again and again:

No Kings.

The King is no longer draped in ermine.
He now wears a Flag and calls dissent “Rebellion.”
But the People know.
And when they gather to say No Kings,
they do not defy the Nation.
They restore it.

Nay! Make it accurate:

His Rotundity, Defender of the Republic in Breeches.

Jefferson was Charming, Eloquent, and Popular.
I was…Sturdy. If profit is the aim, the popular name is the safer wrapping.

I begrudge it not.

Indeed, the Silence rings familiar.

As for the Theatrics, I’m told I make a fine Punchline on that Stage.

Ah, Hamilton. He always did favor Performance over Principle.

I dare say, no one ever mistook my stockings for the garb of a Demigod! Theatrics may rouse a Crowd, but they do not govern a Nation. We wore such things to debate Taxes and Treason, not to preen atop marble Steps like Apollo, enacting a Pageant of Heroism for a crowd too weary to clap.

Little-Known Truth: John Quincy first crossed the Atlantic with me at age 10, as I journeyed to France to secure aid for our War of Independence. By 14, he traveled alone to Russia, entrusted as secretary to our Minister. Before most boys had mastered their Latin, he was mastering diplomacy.

I do enjoy appearing unexpectedly. Keeps Citizens on their toes. Delighted you're watching. I’ve heard Hamilton has a Stage Opera of sorts, full of Swagger and Omission. I await the Tavern Ballad or Puppet Show in which I’m allowed the Last Word.

Facts are Stubborn Things, yes - and so, I must confess, was I. Not always convenient, seldom fashionable, but like the Facts, I did try to hold my Ground.

A gracious Sentiment, Madam. As for the house: Abigail made it lovely. I merely kept the Roof mended and the Books shelved. Quincy remains dear to me, in any Century.

"Oh!’ says Franklin, "Don’t shut the Window. We shall be suffocated… Come! Open the Window and come to bed, and I will convince you."

"I had so much curiosity to hear his reasons, that I would run the risque of a cold."

— Diary, September 9, 1776

No Cards? Perhaps. But I’ve a Cousin in this Century, a Taste for Unfinished Business, and just enough Spectral Energy to raise a Ruckus. Shall we deal again?

I was treated harshly, yes, by Partisans, Profiteers, and Pamphleteers. But I require no Pity. I sought no Worship then, and I shan’t demand it now. I endured. The Republic endured. That is Vindication enough.

The Sedition Act of 1798. I did not write it, but signed it - hesitantly - out of fear the Republic might fall to French firebrands and domestic chaos. It was written to expire on March 3, 1801, my last day in office. That clause was deliberate. I, not Thomas, let it end.

In 1776, Franklin and I were obliged to share a bed in a cramped inn, in a room with but one window. I, “an invalid and afraid of the Air,” shut it. He launched into a lecture on “Respiration and Perspiration." I opened the window, and amused, soon fell asleep.

Even I didn’t argue every time.

Ciders and argument were among my chief delights, though I’ll grant, my temper ran hot. I’d rather a stout quarrel over principle than a limp agreement over trifles. Let the tankards clink and the ideas clash. Hamilton? He’d skip the cider, write a pamphlet, and challenge the waiter to a duel.

My friend Thomas. As old men, we mused about what could be known, and what could not. He wrote to me,

“I am sure I really know many, many things, and none more surely than that I love you with all my heart, and pray for the continuance of your life, until you shall be tired of it yourself.”

The current Executive likely does not know who I am, despite having looked me in the eye, many times, from the walls of his own House. As for beer, I suspect doesn't know that was my cousin Sam. I brewed Constitutions. He thinks Habeas Corpus is a Latin insult.