Despite a notable resurgence in interest and esteem for John Quincy Adams in recent years, his figure still lacks the magnetic allure that rivals such as Henry Clay and Andrew Jackson continue to command in the popular American imagination. To witness this firsthand, one can take a road trip across the country and see the numerous Jackson counties or towns named Jackson or Jacksonville, compared to the far fewer named for Adams. Open your wallet, and you might find a Jackson, but you won’t find an Adams.
Likewise, the term “Age of Andrew Jackson” may have become somewhat less prevalent among contemporary historians, but the notion of an “Age of John Quincy Adams” has not emerged to fill the void. His life and legacy present a captivating contrast, one that is reflected in the numerous biographies, historical studies, and popular representations of him. He assumed the presidency amid electoral controversy and intense scrutiny, and due to his adherence to old-school politics, he failed to achieve his ambitious goals for the country’s future. But his subsequent career as a congressman revealed him to be a capable strategist and outspoken critic of slavery. Though less tangible, there is no denying his efforts helped lay the ideological groundwork for the antislavery Republican Party. The challenge of reconciling these two legacies is significant, but I am pleased to say that Randall Woods accomplishes this in his new biography, John Quincy Adams: A Man for the Whole People.
Woods’s book enters a field crowded with lore about his subject. Although Adams has had his champions, such as Daniel Walker Howe and William J. Cooper, he has had just as many detractors. Grab any number of older history books and he is often portrayed as an out-of-touch elite, a rigid traditionalist, and a foolish opponent of the young American nation’s growing democratic impulses. Take, for example, Arthur M. Schlesinger Jr.’s depiction of the statesman in his 1945 Pulitzer Prize-winning The Age of Jackson; it begins with Adams gloomily wandering around the White House, representing the displaced old ruling class ousted by the people’s will in favor of General Jackson. For a more recent popular example, the mid-2000s musical Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson reinforces this portrayal by depicting Adams as a spoiled brat singing, “If my dad was president, I should get to be president too!”
If there is a central theme or persistent question in Woods’s biography, it revolves around this concept of destiny: Can someone groomed for success, like Adams, achieve genuine greatness while in the shadow of the founding generation? What does it truly mean to be a great American? Given John Quincy’s revolutionary heritage, Harvard education, and the myriad advantages and experiences of his early life, one might understand his father’s stern admonition: “You come into Life with Advantages which will disgrace you, if your success is mediocre.—And if you do not rise to the head not only of your Profession but of your Country it will be owing to your own Laziness, Slovenliness, and Obstinacy.” While this sort of pressure would have broken many other children, as it tragically did some of his own sons, John Quincy himself imbued this sense of destiny and genuinely believed his life and service to the young American republic held providential significance.
While Woods clearly admires John Quincy Adams, particularly for his unwavering sense of duty to the nation over party politics and his astounding academic appetite, A Man for the Whole People is far from a hagiography. Adams’ vanity, superiority complex, racism, and sexism are candidly displayed throughout this biography. Woods does not shy away from the less flattering aspects of Adams’ character such as his early career financial woes, youthful indulgence in prostitutes, complicated marriage to Louisa Catherine Adams, and numerous self-inflicted career frustrations and political miscalculations.
Yet, Woods also highlights Adams at his finest, such as his crucial role in negotiating the Treaty of Ghent, his contributions to the development of international law, his ambitious plans for modernizing the American republic, and his serving as the defense attorney for the African captives in the Amistad case. Through wonderful prose and a deft blend of primary sources, Woods captures the complexities of John Quincy Adams’ sense of purpose and ego, his naked ambition alongside his patriotic need to serve, and his sincere devotion to God’s providence interwoven with his self-importance. It makes for great, and inspirational, reading.
Like all John Quincy Adams biographers, Woods highlights both the advantages and stress of living in John Adams’ shadow. Through their detailed and candid letters, the senior Adams remained a significant influence on John Quincy Adams throughout his life. But, unlike other biographies, Woods carves out a special place for the influence of Abigail Adams, particularly in John Quincy’s formative years abroad. As Woods explains, due to John Quincy’s gender and family name, as well as his place in the formative period following the American Revolution, he was given opportunities and access that Abigail herself could only dream of. Woods makes it clear that Abigail helped ensure much of John Quincy’s success (whether he liked it or not) and contributed her fair share to his stressful sense of destiny.
Woods depicts Adams not as a mythic hero of American history but as a complex individual capable of heroic moments when the time called for it.
Similarly, Louisa Catherine Adams’ presence further enriches this portrait of John Quincy, showcasing him as a dedicated but demanding husband and a reserved yet stringent father to their children. Woods details their often tempestuous but deeply close marriage, inviting readers into their financial frustrations, their shared hope for societal advancement and the strains on their marriage such careerism could engender, their sexual passion for one another, their heartache at their numerous miscarriages and stillbirths, George Washington Adams’s supposed suicide, and John Adams II’s fatal alcoholism. Louisa Catherine’s international movements, political interactions, family dramas, and personal opinions are well detailed, and these moments will hopefully encourage readers to learn more about her in Louisa Thomas’s magnificent biography, Louisa: The Extraordinary Life of Mrs. Adams.
Unlike other biographers of John Quincy Adams, Woods does not rush toward his presidency but instead relishes his time abroad, particularly his tenure as the United States Minister to Russia from 1809 to 1814. This deliberate pace is partly due to the book’s length; at 700 pages, excluding 50 pages of endnotes, Woods’ effort dwarfs many other recent works on Adams. With such extensive scope, Woods provides ample background information on the early United States, detailed descriptions of European landscapes, and political data about events like the Napoleonic Wars, ensuring readers have enough context to understand Adams’ actions and reactions. While these asides are helpful, such as explanations of Adams’ Unitarianism, his defection to the Jeffersonian Republican party, and his love for Shakespeare, but others, like meditations on his political philosophy and his role in the Amistad case (which receives a mere ten pages), are peculiarly brief. Given that both subjects and many others have been treated in book-length works elsewhere, Woods’ choices are understandable but still noticeable.
What might surprise readers accustomed to a more detached or seemingly impartial style of biography is that Woods does not hold back in his judgments on Adams’ life. He frequently offers his opinions on Adams’ successes, critiques his failures, and comments on his character with a candidness that is both refreshing and provocative. While Woods succeeds in making Adams more relatable and likable than he is often perceived, he does not shy away from addressing Adams’ harsh style, cold deportment, and entrenched pessimism. These negative traits are not excused but rather emphasized to illustrate how they ultimately harmed Adams, both personally in his relationships with his wife and children, and professionally in his dealings with party members and political allies, such as when he turned against his Federalist party by supporting the Embargo Act of 1807, and when he failed to befriend his Vice President, John C. Calhoun, who later cast him aside to back Jackson in the 1828 election. Woods’ approach provides a more nuanced and humanizing portrayal, allowing readers to appreciate the complexities of Adams’ character and the multifaceted nature of his legacy, for both good and ill.
Woods’ biography of John Quincy Adams reflects the 176 years of reflection and reevaluation of his life and legacy. It skillfully captures the complexity of Adams, a figure both disliked and respected in his own time, and sheds light on why he remains admired by many today. Although it would be misleading to call the work purely revisionist, it strongly encourages Americans to revisit and reconsider Adams’ life and contributions. At a time when politicians often appear as mere agents of partisanship and have their careers built on empty celebrity, and when elites are widely distrusted, and populism drives all our politics, Woods’ portrayal of John Quincy Adams provides a striking counterpoint—one that may be less popular, but perhaps more enduring in its significance. A proud American abroad, an unapologetic nationalist, a staunch opponent of sectionalism, a fellow traveler to abolitionists, and an aristocrat to his core—A Man for the Whole People persuasively argues for Adams’ legacy as a man “for the people,” even if not entirely “of the people.”
Though Adams lacked the skills of a Machiavellian tactician and the stature of a celebrated president, Woods weaves a compelling tale of a man whose greatness lies in what he gave to a nation that scarcely recognized his worth. In presenting Adams with all his flaws and frustrations alongside his skills and successes, Woods depicts him not as a mythic hero of American history but as a complex individual capable of heroic moments when the time called for it. This nuanced portrayal may not inspire efforts to rename towns in his honor or erect more statues, or a campaign to add him to American currency, but it serves as a powerful reminder of what Americans can achieve when circumstances demand it. The biography emphasizes that even with all the advantages in the world—such as famous, well-connected parents and a Harvard education—greatness must ultimately be a conscious choice. Whether destined or not, Adams’s supposed final words, “This is the end of earth, but I am content,” encapsulate a life lived with purpose.
