Reviews of Books

For an eighteenth-century man ambitious for fame, John Adams has achieved far less notice from posterity than other similarly accomplished founders of the American republic. But that may be changing. Consider not only David McCullough's best-selling biography but also John Adams and the Founding of the Republic, a collection of essays that began life at a conference sponsored by the Massachusetts Historical Society in 1996. Though it breaks little new ground, this collection refines our understanding of Adams, even as it defines its limits. As with any such volume, the contributors tackle various topics, but if any theme brings them together, it is that of fame. Their essays show that Adams's lack of popularity was partly his own fault, perhaps even his wish. Like many of his peers, Adams longed for fame yet deemed it beneath his dignity to court popularity. On a personal level, Adams doubted the value of fame itself, however much he craved it. Fame ultimately rested on opinion, and opinion was by definition fluid, transient, insubstantial. Hence, the quest for acclaim could be a snare and a delusion.	1
Certainly, Adams has drawn a mixed verdict from historians. His career as a diplomat has long been controversial. Adams's detractors point to the tension between Adams and Benjamin Franklin that shook the American legation in Paris, and they point to the even worse relationship he had with the French foreign minister, Charles Vergennes. On the other side, Adams's few defenders have long hailed American diplomatic successes during Adams's tenure. Though Adams gave offense to Vergennes with his blunt demand for military aid, the French eventually sent the ships to North America that made victory at Yorktown possible; Adams secured a treaty and a loan from the Dutch; and the Americans could hardly have asked for a better settlement in 1783. The question has long been what credit Adams deserves for these achievements. Gregg L. Lint turns the scholarship on its ear by asking what possible harm Adams could have done, other than bruise a few egos. Lint might also have explored the impact of the undetected British spy spell in the American legation; arguably, it played a key role in sowing tensions between Adams and Franklin and Adams and Vergennes.	2
Several essays in this collection suggest that Adams cherished his independence too much truly to worship fame. On the one hand, as C. Bradley Thompson's insightful essay on Adams's political science shows, the idea of fame commanded considerable attention in Adams's political thought. According to Thompson, Adams was a profound political innovator who combined the classical idea of mixed government with the modern ideas of representation and of separation of powers. To uphold liberty under law, governments employed what Adams termed "the language of signs" (p. 251). Among such signs were formal titles and conspicuous displays of wealth and power. Though he realized that such outward signs lacked intrinsic value, Adams's study of human nature resulted in the conviction that in all times and in all places they gained sway over the minds of men. Hence, a well-built constitution harnessed men's love of fame to the public good.	3
At the same time, Adams's reasoning led him to conclude that the pursuit of fame was beneath him. That most people in most ages were moved by outward show simply proved their superficiality. It is this war between Adams's passion for distinction and his reasoned rejection of fame that makes his point of view hard to pin down. Jack D. Warren, Jr., gives the conventional reading of Adams's attitude toward fame in his treatment of Adams's vice presidency. Warren highlights Adams's carping at George Washington, particularly his sardonic remarks about the president's "talents." These included, Adams told Benjamin Rush many years later, "an handsome face," "a tall stature," "an elegant form," and "a large, imposing fortune" (p. 121). Such were the sources of the great man's renown and the qualities Adams notoriously lacked. Read in light of Thompson's essay, we can see that Adams's satire was directed at human nature, not at Washington. His complaint was that the people recognized Washington's greatness, which he too admired, only because of his other, extraneous "talents."	. . .