John Quincy Adams: A Man for the Whole People

by Randall Woods

Dutton 2024

All but bald, with eyes sharp enough to cut the granite rocks of his native New England in two, a short, somewhat pudgy septuagenarian congressman stands addressing the United States House of Representatives. He has just caused a pandemonium in the House by asking permission to present a petition from a group of female slaves. The Southern congressmen have declared that petitions from women of “infamous character” ought not to be heard in the House. But the New Englander thinks otherwise. “[I]f they were infamous women, then who is it that made them infamous? Not their color, I believe, but their masters! I have heard it said in proof of the fact, and I am inclined to believe it is the case, that in the South there existed great resemblances between the progeny of the colored people and the white men who claim possession of them. Thus, perhaps, the charge of infamous might be retorted on those who made it, as originating from themselves.”

Those words were uttered by John Quincy Adams in 1837, six years into his 17-year-long career in the House of Representatives. Such an outspoken, divisive man, one would guess, was only fit for a career in Congress, for he doubtless did not have the broad regional appeal or political skills needed for any higher national office. And yet, less than ten years before this speech, John Quincy Adams was president of the United States. Before that, he was secretary of state under President James Monroe, a member of the Southern slavocracy Adams later so thoroughly detested.

Randall Woods, a professor of history at the University of Arkansas, tells the remarkable story of John Quincy Adams in his big new book John Quincy Adams: A Man for the Whole People. The book’s subtitle might seem somewhat odd in light of John Quincy’s later career, but it fits his earlier career well. 

The son of the Founding Father and second president John Adams, John Quincy Adams came to prominence as one of the infant republic’s best diplomats and politicians, a man with no party who was thoroughly devoted to simply advancing his whole country’s interests, not his own. Or this is at least what he wanted people to think. Thoroughly his father’s son in regards to politics, Adams believed in a federal government that would (in Woods’ words) give the people “the example of good government,” one that would be strong enough to unite the nation’s disparate regions, provide them with a myriad of services, and give them all a shining beacon to gaze in wonderment at.  These were oddly idealistic sentiments to be possessed by a misanthropic realist like John Quincy Adams. Adams himself frequently failed to live up to his dreams of national moral and political excellence—as Woods is fully willing to point out, with minimal excuse-making.

When Secretary of State Adams is negotiating the treaty that will give the US Florida and extended America’s land claims all the way to the Pacific, Woods notes that, in order to achieve these ends, Adams “was willing to tolerate the expansion of slavery into newly acquired territories, sacrifice those Native Americans who stood in his way, and violate the provision in the Constitution giving Congress and Congress alone the power to declare war.” All this “confirmed the nations of Europe in their opinion that the United States was just another avaricious empire. The only difference between them and America was the latter’s self-righteousness.”

Woods treats everything in John Quincy’s career with such clear-sightedness. Indeed, John Quincy Adams: A Man for the Whole People provides a more objective and astute portrait of the man than any recent cradle-to-grave biography of him.

Woods is just as good on the personal Adams as he is on the political Adams. In the first half of the book especially (in chronicling a life as full as John Quincy Adams’, Woods spends a surprisingly long time the events of John Quincy’s youth, with the first few chapters of his book reading more like a biography of John Adams than of John Quincy Adams), Woods does an excellent job of showing the full range of John Quincy’s personality. Adams was infamously abrasive and unlikable, concealing his insecurities and immense mistrust of the world with an icy demeanor and a sharp tongue.

Woods cannot help but accentuate the negative aspects of Adams’ personality, given their prominence in Adams’ life. But he also manages to frequently show the more likable, and all-too-elusive, side of John Quincy Adams (whom Woods at one point takes the unprecedented step of describing as “a hail-fellow-well met”):

 …when [Adams] was in the bosom of his family or at dinner with people he respected[,] his inhibitions softened by wine, he was a witty, charming raconteur, toasting, singing, rhyming, and dancing. … ‘Under an exterior of, at times, almost repulsive coldness [observes a colleague of Adams], dwelt a heart as warm, sympathies as quick, and affections as overflowing as ever animated any bosom. His tastes too were all refined. Literature and Art were familiar and dear to him.’

Though important moments are occasionally not written as dramatically as they should be (see: the chapter on the famous Amistad case), Woods’ prose is usually energetic and clear. His prodigiously detailed, coldly objective book is a very good one-stop shop for those interested in learning about the ever-fascinating sixth president of the United States—or those just looking for a well-done biography.

Spencer Peacock is a student currently living in Utah