I am currently reading a biography of John Adams by David McCullough, the widely-respected, Pulitzer-Prize-winning American historian. A decade ago, his work on Adams was adapted by HBO into a seven-part mini-series. On the basis of his popular acclaim, I have always assumed that McCullough couldn’t write. I’ve been wrong.
In 1780, with the outcome of the War of Independence still very much in doubt, Adams left France for Holland to secure a loan from Dutch bankers for the American war effort. While residing in Amsterdam, he enrolled his thirteen-year-old son, John Quincy, in the ancient and prestigious University of Leiden. John Quincy had accompanied his father two years earlier on the arduous trans-Atlantic sea-voyage from Massachusetts to France, and during his two months aboard ship, redeemed the time by studying and becoming sufficiently fluent in French to serve as Adams’ interpreter at the French court. At the University of Leiden, John Quincy took classes in philosophy, classics, law, science, and medicine. The lectures were delivered in Latin, of course. Continue reading “A Different Species: Notes on the Yukkiness of Progressive Self-Absorption”