John Quincy Adams: A Public Life, a Private Life

National Review, Nov 10, 1997 by Richard Samuelson

John Quincy Adams: A Public Life, a Private Life, by Paul C. Nagel (Knopf, 448 pp., $30)

Mr. Samuelson is a doctoral candidate in history at the University of Virginia.

PAUL C. Nagel has spent half a career writing about the Adams family. His latest book, a biography of John Quincy Adams, is perhaps the best of the lot. Although he set out to explore the "inner J. Q. Adams," and even consulted a psychiatrist during his research, this book displays few of the psychological excesses of his earlier works. Instead it details one of the most fascinating careers in American history in a straight forward manner, emphasizing Adams's own thoughts and deeds.

From his work on the U.S. mission to Russia in 1781 as a mere cub of 14, to his death on the floor of the House in 1848, and with service in between as America's minister to several European courts, as a state and then U.S. senator from Massachusetts, as Secretary of State, and then as President, Adams rendered yeoman service to the Union. Beyond politics, Adams was one of the most lettered men of his age. He was the first Boylston Professor of Rhetoric at Harvard, and he produced several volumes of translation from Latin, Greek, German, and French into English, as well as other scholarly works. Throughout his career Adams took stock of his actions in his diary. There, he ruminated daily on how his deeds affected, not his political future, but the state of his soul. Adams was no Bill Clinton, or Jack Kennedy for that matter.

His character comes through in the little details. His inability to keep either his cravat or his hair in place brings forth the image of a scholar and litterateur, rather than of a statesman and politician. The permanent ink stain on his right thumb and forefinger conjures up a man who could barely function without pen in hand. Adams was always worrying through a problem on the page before him.

By relating several well-selected anecdotes, Nagel both amuses his reader and illuminates his subject. One such tale shows Adams's intensity better than any number of pages of analysis possibly could. In his 71st year, Adams suffered digestive problems, and his doctor told him to dissolve in water and drink three drops of sulphuric acid daily. Assuming that more was invariably better, Adams dissolved five drops instead of three and developed massive blisters on his tongue and a nasty sore throat.

In one of the most notorious episodes of any Presidency, Adams's competitive streak nearly cost the nation his services. For his daily exercise, Adams had taken to swimming in the Potomac. As a matter of course, the diurnal swim became a test of presidential vigor. One day as he arrived at the river with his son John and his servant Guista in tow, he saw an old boat by the shore and determined to row it across the river and see if he could swim back. His son took one look at the boat and beat a swift retreat to the White House. Half way across the river, the President pushed onward. The boat filled with water. Guista, who had been rowing, swam for safety. The boat sinking rapidly, Adams jumped into the water, still clad in his long-sleeved shirt and pantaloons, and barely reached the shore.

Nagel describes the denouement. Once on the shore,

the shirt and pantaloons that had nearly pulled the President under were wrung out and donned by Guista so that he could search for a vehicle to carry them back to the Executive Mansion. Now entirely unclad, Adams stayed behind to sit on a rock and ponder his folly. By then, a passerby who witnessed some of the excitement had taken a garbled report into town, starting a rumor that journalists picked up, to the effect that the Chief Executive had drowned.

Rather than laugh at the foolishness that had led to his brush with death, Adams confronted the situation gravely, resolving that he would never again swim "to show what I can do . . . I must strictly confine myself to the purposes of health, exercise, and salutary labor." The ideas of recreation and amusement were foreign to him. Life was fundamentally about being purposeful.

Although he gives full play to this humorless side, Nagel also softens the image we have of Adams. He was a much-sought-after dinner companion in both Europe and America, and a devotee of theater and opera. When distance separated him for too long from Mrs. Adams, he penned verses that were not exactly puritanical. Despite his grim determination, Adams could be charming.

Unfortunately, by dwelling upon Adams's own life and words and neglecting their larger historical context, Nagel makes it more difficult for his readers to grasp the forces that drove Adams onward. He wanted success not just for himself, but for the greater glory of his family, his country, and his God. In pursuing these goals he received strength and inspiration from several sources. From his Puritan ancestors, Adams learned that God has allotted each of us a certain time on earth and a certain stock of talents, which each man is duty-bound to improve in His service. From the Whig political tradition, Adams took his belief in disinterested public service in the name of the general good. From the Enlightenment, he drew his promethean ambition. He strove to help man reach a higher plane of life and to move toward Immanuel Kant's dream of perpetual peace. Without this historical background, it is difficult to appreciate the link between the demands that Adams placed on himself and the goals that he sought in this world. At heart, Adams was uncomfortable with limits.