The Adams Papers, in breadth and depth, are astonishing, inspiring and best of all, thanks to John Quincy, wondrously available to any researcher who comes their way. Back in January 18, 1847, along with his bequest of books, manuscripts, documents and papers, and those of his father, he made two recommendations to his son Charles Francis. First he hoped that he would create a fireproof building in which to keep them safe; second, it was his wish that he keep them together as far as it was in his power as one library, to remain in the family and not to be sold or dispersed “as long as may be practicable.”
Honoring John Quincy’s vision, if not his name, and designed by the Boston architect Edward Cabot in brick, stone and slate, the one-room Stone Library, built on family property, opened in September 1780 and housed the collection accordingly until April 4, 1956 when, for want of space, the Adams family “gave custody of the personal and public papers (all but the books) written over a span of three centuries” to the safekeeping of the Massachusetts Historical Society, which remains a treasury not only for its contents but also for the staff, whose successive editions of Adams Family Correspondence and other related works are masterful works of impeccable scholarship.
On my first encounter at the MHS, writing about Abigail Adams, the esteemed Lyman H. Butterfield was editor in chief of the Adams Papers, and Len (Louis Leonard) Tucker was the Society’s president. Fortunately for me, Len’s generosity of spirit prevails. Dennis A. Fiori now presides as energetic president. C. James Taylor, whose thoughtful reading improved my book immeasurably in matters of both fact and content, is now editor in chief of the Adams Papers. Members of his staff who have graciously come to my rescue include Judith Graham, Sara Georgini, Elaine Grublin, Hobson Woodward, Caitlin Christian-Lamb (former research associate) and especially Amanda Mathews. And none more faithfully or crucially over the years than Sara Sikes, who reached out to sources in St. Petersburg while assembling the images reproduced in this book.
Fortunately, a microfilm copy of the Adams Papers exists at Columbia University, to which affable David Adams, then a student at Marymount Manhattan College, made innumerable trips in order to photocopy John Quincy Adams’s diary as well as much of his then unprinted correspondence, prior to its recent digital renderings. I am also grateful to Kelly McMaster who, as a Hertog fellow at Columbia University, rounded up information on John Quincy’s many colorful, if often obscure, colleagues.
Frustration over the skimpy trove of Louisa Catherine Adams’s letters, thought to be lost or destroyed, provoked the stubborn search of relevant libraries in locations where members of her family had lived in the hope that one or more might have preserved the stray remnants of her correspondence. In this cause, I was enormously aided by Candace Wainwright, who once and bravely owned a unique travel bookstore that stocked guide books together with corresponding literature. In this quest on behalf of Louisa Catherine, Candy contacted the Maryland Historical Society; the Wisconsin Historical Society, which holds the Boyd and Tanner Family Papers; the Hamilton College Library; the Bryn Mawr College Library; the Library of Congress; the Houghton and Widener Libraries at Harvard University; the New-York Historical Society and the Haverhill Public Library. Though the “dig” did not unearth a single early treasure, what was surprising was the number of letters Louisa Catherine wrote in old age that were heartbreaking in recollection of the frailties of her youth.
When it came to general research and access to streams of scholarly papers and for their spontaneous all-around assistance at the New York Public Library, I am indebted to Wayne Furman and David Smith, and to Laura Ruffin for her gentle guidance in the Manuscripts and Archives Division.
In the initial stages of the book, it seemed as though Geraldine Sheehan’s homecoming was perfect. After early years at The New York Times in Paris and New York, she served the State Department on both coasts of Africa, in Liberia and Somalia, and returned to Washington in time to encourage me to brave a biography of John Quincy Adams and to plan the scope of the book I would write. Her untimely death deprived me not only of an admirable friend but, if prior experience counts, a blunt yet inspiring critic.
When it came down to editing the book, as John Quincy was a man of infinite words and sensibilities and I in his thrall, it was my greatest luck that Michael Leahy offered to discipline both of us as chapter after chapter slipped out of my printer. Michael was, in the course of his years at The New York Times, a superb editor of several sections of the paper, including Arts & Leisure and Travel, and my book is infinitely improved by his discreetly penned “fly specks” and his probing questions about content, form and grammar. Heartened by his thoughtful judgment and taste, my appreciation of his friendship on behalf of John Quincy Adams is boundless.
My great good fortune has held with Deborah C. Gaisford’s valiant role as a kind of managing editor, a coordinator in chief on all issues. Gifted as she is able and with a miraculous respect for detail, Deb, who writes and consults on the subject of health care, came to help with footnotes and to my enormous pleasure and relief stayed steadfast from introduction to bibliography.
Ultimately, I am indebted to my nephew, William Schwalbe, author and editor who introduced me to Elisabeth Dyssegaard. As executive editor at Palgrave Macmillan, Elizabeth’s interest in John Quincy Adams and her appreciation of his talents and challenges has been extremely heartening. I also thank Donna Cherry, senior production manager, for her cordial guidance in routing the book to publication. Also, I happily share with Will his admiration of Lisa Queen, my wise and ever supportive agent.
Over the years, while John Quincy has seemed unfairly demanding, he has also been surprisingly rewarding. In the cause I have made and cherish new and deepened friendships, thankful for Jean Angell, Mardee Stone, Barbara Miller, Zoneida Felix, Elizabeth Niedbala, Karen Wilcox, Dr. Andrew Winneg, Blitz (Harriet) Leahy, Dr. Alvin Tierstein, Tony Downer and my office moving team of four, including Chris Yockey, Nate Diana, Will Levin and Rawle Deland. It is with great pleasure that I remember Catherine Hull, acclaimed horticulturist and a direct descendant of Louisa Catherine, who twice invited me to the fall family gathering at the Stone Library. For the solution and treatment of a unique health issue, I am ever in Dr. Anne Liebling’s debt. And I will not forget Shirley Hazzard’s deep smile and nod of certainty on learning that the book had come to pass.
Long in researching, rereading and rewriting, in the end it takes my entire family to actually produce any book that I write. I once likened the process to a kind of cottage industry, and so it remains. For translations from the French, for interpretation of Adams family finances and health issues, for literary, technological, philosophical and spiritual support, I am thankful for my sons John and Peter; my sons-in-law, Jonathan Deland and Mark di Suvero; my daughter-in-law Anna; my daughter Emme. In the past I noted that my daughter Kate, once a favorite filer, had turned into a thoughtful, witty and decisive editor. And so she has proven, indispensable this time around to the fate of John Quincy Adams. My grandson William Hayes Levin is the most recent recruit, as competent as he is inventive.
Usually, I could depend on my husband Wilbur Arthur Levin to read every word I put on paper. I counted on his help as stern grammarian, rigorous statistician and patient philosopher. When he suddenly became ill, I promised him I would keep at my work. I have done so, remembering him as my “Dearest Friend” every word of the way.