΢��Ȧ

Long before texts, tweets, and emojis became a primary form of communication, lovers crafted well-thought-out, emotion-filled messages on beautiful wood-pulp stationery. Their writings provided a window into the soul of the author and involved the reader in myriad emotions that captured the full complexity of the author’s deepest thoughts and earnest beliefs.

But, for African-derived people, particularly those with roots in American slavery, this epistolary tradition was often out of reach, illegal, and potentially fatal. Consequently, they routinely passed stories through oral tradition from generation after generation.

This is one of the reasons why I was astounded three years ago when my cousin, John Rice, presented me with a box containing more than 500 well-preserved family letters dating from 1807 to 1931. Written by our Rhode Island ancestors of color and their friends and associates – some of whom were either recently emancipated or one or two generations removed from chattel slavery – the letters chronicle more than a century of resilience and persistence as detailed in the authors’ own words.

In 2020, I organized, digitized, and read the letters in chronological order. From this unique perspective, and as a loving and respectful onlooker, I peered into the authors’ lives, their journeys, their struggles, and their love. As a parent, I was drawn to the letters written by my 4th great-grandparents, abolitionists Isaac and Sarah Ann (Casey) Rice. I was moved by the love they shared for their children and their hopes and dreams for future generations. I felt anxiety from their struggles, pride in their accomplishments, and sorrow in their pain.

As I read the letters between abolitionist friends, I was energized by their fierce determination to be seen and treated as equals, respected, and judged based on their ability, unlimited by their race. I was empowered by the women who stepped outside gender normative roles of the era to become educated, self-sufficient, and vocal advocates for abolition and equal rights.

Most of all, I was drawn to the beautiful love story revealed in dozens of extant love letters exchanged between my 4th great-aunt Mary Ann Casey Rice and Henry O. Remington during their five-year courtship and 17-year marriage. For all their courtship, the couple lived in the neighboring states of Rhode Island and Massachusetts. Today, travel between the two towns of Newport, Rhode Island and New Bedford, Massachusetts takes about an hour. But, in the nineteenth century, such travel could consume an entire day when traveling by stagecoach and ferry.  After their marriage in 1842, Mary Ann frequently stayed in Newport caring for her parents and younger siblings while Henry traveled, participating in Colored Conventions of the time. Undeniably, communication through the epistolary tradition played an important role in their relationship. At times, the letters were exchanged in rapid succession, but often, days, or even weeks could pass without a reply. Through their writing they shared their deepest thoughts, desires, and love for one another when time, distance, and duty kept them apart. 

Henry’s religious beliefs anchored his values and was a chief expression of his love:

New Bedford, Mass
February 14, 1842

Mary my dear,

My beloved, O my beloved. Hear my voice, come to Jesus. O what shall I say to you, what shall I do for you. O you lay near my heart and every time I awake in the night my prayer is that you might be saved. O my dear, is there any language that can move you…

In this letter I felt the depth of his love for Mary Ann, his hope that she should know the joy of accepting Christ as her savior, and his desire that she would feel the same abiding love for him that he has for her: 

“O, my love, my dove, come away. O may you read these lines and feel as I feel for you.”

From the beginning to the end of this parchment-colored letter, which Henry signed “yours until death,” carefully folded, and then sealed with wax, I felt that the intensity of Henry’s deep-rooted faith and abiding love was one that could last forever.

And it did.

Henry and Mary Ann continued writing to one another for the duration of their marriage until they were parted by Henry’s untimely death in 1860. But even in death, their love endured. Mary Ann kept the letters for decades until her passing in 1888. Although Mary Ann remarried in later years, her final resting place is beside Henry, her true love.

It is remarkable that the couple’s letters, written more than 160 years ago, remain. While the letters provide a direct connection to Henry and Mary’s most intimate thoughts, they provide a lesson for us this Valentine’s Day. When we express the love we have for one another in writing, our words live not just in the moment, but live forever.

Happy Valentine’s Day.