MR. ADAMS' LAST APPEARANCE IN PUBLIC AT BOSTON--HIS HEALTH--LECTURES ON
HIS JOURNEY TO WASHINGTON--REMOTE CAUSE OF HIS DECEASE--STRUCK WITH
PARALYSIS--LEAVES QUINCY FOR WASHINGTON FOR THE LAST TIME--HIS FINAL
SICKNESS IN THE HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES--HIS DEATH--THE FUNERAL AT
WASHINGTON--REMOVAL OF THE BODY TO QUINCY--ITS INTERMENT.
The last time Mr. Adams appeared in public in Boston, he presided at a
meeting of the citizens of that city, in Faneuil Hall. "A man had been
kidnapped in Boston--kidnapped at noon-day, 'on the high road between
Faneuil Hall and old Quincy,' and carried off to be a slave! New England
hands had seized their brother, sold him into bondage forever, and his
children after him. A meeting was called to talk the matter over, in a
plain way, and look in one another's faces. Who was fit to preside in such
a case? That old man sat in the chair in Faneuil Hall. Above him was the
image of his father and his own; around him were Hancock and the other
Adams, and Washington, greatest of all. Before him were the men and women
of Boston, met to consider the wrongs done to a miserable negro slave. The
roof of the old Cradle of Liberty spanned over them all. Forty years
before, a young man and a Senator, he had taken the chair at a meeting
called to consult on the wrong done to American seamen, violently
impressed by the British from an American ship of war--the unlucky
Chesapeake. Now an old man, clothed with half a century of honors, he sits
in the same Hall, to preside over a meeting to consider the outrage done
to a single slave. One was the first meeting of citizens he ever presided
over; the other was the last: both for the same object--the defence of
the eternal right!" [Footnote: Theodore Parker.]
Few men retain the health and vigor with which Mr. Adams was blessed in
extreme old age. When most others are decrepit and helpless, he was in the
enjoyment of meridian strength and energy, both of body and mind, and
could endure labors which would prostrate many in the prime of manhood. An
instance of his powers of endurance is furnished in his journey to
Washington, to attend the opening of Congress, when in the 74th year of
his age. On Monday morning he left Boston, and the same evening delivered
a lecture before the Young Men's Institute, in Hartford, Conn. The next
day he proceeded to New Haven, and in the evening lectured before a
similar Institute in that city. Wednesday he pursued his journey to New
York, and in the evening lectured before the New York Lyceum, in the
Broadway Tabernacle. Thursday evening he delivered an address before an
association in Brooklyn; and on Friday evening delivered a second lecture
before the New York Lyceum. Here were labors which would seriously tax the
constitution of vigorous youth; and yet Mr. Adams performed them with much
comparative ease.
His great longevity, and his general good health, must be attributed, in
no small degree, to his abstemious and temperate habits, early rising, and
active exercise. He took pleasure in athletic amusements, and was
exceedingly fond of walking. During his summer residence in Quincy, he has
been known to walk to his son's residence in Boston (seven miles,) before
breakfast. "While President of the United States, he was probably the
first man up in Washington, lighted his own fire, and was hard at work in
his library, while sleep yet held in its obliviousness the great mass of
his fellow-citizens." He was an expert swimmer, and was in the constant
habit of bathing, whenever circumstances would permit. Not unfrequently
the first beams of the rising sun, as they fell upon the beautiful
Potomac, would find Mr. Adams buffeting its waves with all the
sportiveness and dexterity of boyhood, while a single attendant watched
upon the shore. When in the Presidency, he sometimes made a journey from
Washington to Quincy on horseback, as a simple citizen, accompanied only
by a servant.
More than four score years had sprinkled their frosts upon his brow, and
still he was in the midst of his usefulness. Promptly at his post in the
Hall of Representatives stood the veteran sentinel, watching vigilantly
over the interests of his country. With an eye undimmed by age, a quick
ear, a ready hand, an intellect unimpaired, he guarded the citadel of
liberty, ever on the alert to detect, and mighty to repel, the approach of
the foe, however covert or however open his attacks. Never did the Union,
never did freedom, the world, more need his services than now. A large
territory, of sufficient extent to form several States, had been blighted
by slavery, and annexed to the United Sates. A sanguinary and expensive
war, growing out of this strengthening of the slave power, had just
terminated, adding to the Union still larger territories--now free soil
indeed, but furnishing a field for renewed battles between slavery and
liberty. New revolutions were about to break forth in Europe, to convulse
the Eastern Hemisphere, and cause old thrones to totter and fall!
How momentous the era! How deeply fraught with the prosperity of the
American Republic--with the progress of man--the freedom of nations--the
happiness of succeeding generations! How could he, who for years had
prominently and nobly stood forth, as the leader of the hosts contending
for the rights and the liberties of humanity, be spared from his post at
such a juncture? Who could put on his armor?--who wield his weapons?--who
"lead a forlorn hope," or mount a deadly breach in battles which might yet
be waged between the sons of freedom and the propagators of slavery? But
the loss was to be experienced. A wise and good Providence had so ordered.
The sands of his life had run out. A voice from on high called him away
from earth's stormy struggles, to bright and peaceful scenes in the spirit
land. He could no longer tarry. Death found the faithful veteran at his
post, with his harness on. How applicable the words of Scott, on the
departure of Pitt:--
"Hadst thou but lived, though stripp'd of power,
A watchman on the lonely tower,
Thy thrilling trump had roused the land,
When fraud or danger were at hand;
By thee, as by the beacon-light,
Our pilots had kept course aright;
As some proud column, though alone,
Thy strength had propp'd the tottering throne.
Now is the stately column broke,
The beacon-light is quenched in smoke,
The trumpet's silver sound is still,
The warder silent on the hill!
O think how, to his latest day,
When death, just hovering, claimed his prey,
With Palinure's unaltered mood,
Firm at his dangerous post he stood;
Each call for needful rest repell'd,
With dying hand the rudder held,
Till, in his fall, with fateful sway,
The steerage of the realm gave way."
It has been supposed by some that the remote cause of Mr. Adams's death
was a severe injury he received by a fall in the House of Representatives,
in June, 1840. The accident is thus described by an eye witness:--
"It had been a very warm day, and the debates had partaken of
extraordinary excitement, when, a few moments before sunset, the House
adjourned, and most of the members had sought relief from an oppressive
atmosphere, in the arbors and recesses of the adjoining Congressional
gardens.
"At that time I held a subordinate clerkship in the House, which usually
confined me, the larger portion of the day not devoted to debate, to one
of the committee rooms; whilst the balance of the day I occupied as a
reporter.
"Mr. Adams was always the first man in the House, and the last man out of
it; and, as I usually detained myself an hour or more after adjournment,
in writing up my notes, I often came in contact with him. He was pleased
to call at my desk very often, before he went home, and indulge in some
incidental, unimportant conversation. On the day referred to, just as the
sun was setting, and was throwing his last rays through the murky hall, I
looked up, and saw Mr. Adams approaching. He had almost reached my desk,
and had uplifted his hand in friendly salutation, when he pitched
headlong, some six or eight feet, and struck his head against the sharp
corner of an iron rail that defended one of the entrance aisles leading to
the circle within the bar, inflicting a heavy contusion on his forehead,
and rendering him insensible. I instantly leaped from my seat, took the
prostrate sufferer in my arms, and found that he was in a state of utter
stupor and insensibility. Looking around for aid, I had the good fortune
to find that Col. James Munroe, of the New York delegation, had just
returned to his desk to procure a paper he had forgotten, when, giving the
alarm, he flew to the rescue, manifesting the deepest solicitude for the
welfare of the venerable statesman. Follansbee, the doorkeeper, with two
or more of his pages, came in next; and after we had applied a plentiful
supply of cold water to the sufferer, he returned to consciousness, and
requested that he might be taken to his residence. In less than five
minutes, Mr. Moses H. Grinnell, Mr. George H. Profit, Mr. Ogden Hoffman,
and Col. Christopher Williams, of Tennessee, were called in, a carriage
was procured, and Mr. Adams was being conveyed to his residence in
President Square, when, it being ascertained that his shoulder was
dislocated, the carriage was stopped at the door of the private hotel of
Col. Munroe, in Pennsylvania Avenue, between Eleventh and Twelfth
streets; the suffering, but not complaining statesman, was taken out, and
surgical aid instantly put in requisition. Doctor Sewall was sent for;
when it was ascertained that the left shoulder-joint was out of the
socket; and, though Mr. Adams must have suffered intensely, he complained
not--did not utter a groan or a murmur.
"More than an hour elapsed before the dislocated limb could be adjusted;
and to effect which, his arm endured, in a concentrated and continued
wrench or pull, many minutes at a time, the united strength of Messrs.
Grinnell, Munroe, Profit, and Hoffman. Still Mr. Adams uttered not a
murmur, though the great drops of sweat that rolled down his furrowed
cheeks, or stood upon his brow, told but too well the physical agony he
endured. As soon as his arm was adjusted, he insisted on being carried
home, and his wishes were complied with.
"The next morning I was at the capitol at a very early hour, attending to
some writing. I thought of, and lamented the accident that had befallen
Mr. Adams, and had already commenced writing an account of it to a
correspondent. At that instant I withdrew my eyes from the paper on which
I was writing, and saw Mr. Adams standing a foot or two from me, carefully
examining the carpeting. 'Sir,' said he, 'I am looking for that place in
the matting that last night tripped me. If it be not fastened down, it may
kill some one.' And then he continued his search for the trick-string
matting."
Mr. Adams after this accident did not enjoy as sound health as in previous
years, yet was more active and vigorous than the majority of those who
attain to his age. But on the 20th of November, 1846, he experienced the
first blow of the fatal disease which eventually terminated his existence.
On the morning of that day, while sojourning at the residence of his son,
in Boston, preparing to depart for Washington, he was walking out with a
friend to visit a new Medical College, and was struck with paralysis by
the way. This affliction confined him several weeks, when he obtained
sufficient strength to proceed to Washington, and enter upon his duties in
the House of Representatives. He viewed this attack as the touch of death.
An interregnum of nearly four months occurs in his journal. The next entry
is under the head of "Posthumous Memoir." After describing his recent
sickness, he continues:--"From that hour I date my decease, and consider
myself, for every useful purpose, to myself and fellow-creatures, dead;
and hence I call this, and what I may hereafter write, a posthumous
memoir."
Although he was after this, regular in his attendance at the House of
Representatives, yet he did not mingle as freely in debate as formerly. He
passed the following summer, as usual, at his seat in Quincy. In November,
he left his native town for Washington, to return no more in life!
On Sunday, the 20th of February, 1848, he appeared in unusual health. In
the forenoon he attended public worship at the capitol, and in the
afternoon at St. John's church. At nine o'clock in the evening he retired
with his wife to his library, where she read to him a sermon of Bishop
Wilberforce, on Time--"hovering, as he was, on the verge of eternity!"
This was the last night he passed beneath his own roof.
Monday, the 21st, he rose at his usual very early hour, and engaged in his
accustomed occupations with his pen. An extraordinary alacrity pervaded
his movements, and the cheerful step with which he ascended the steps of
the capitol was remarked by his attendants. He occupied a portion of the
forenoon in composing a few stanzas of poetry, at the request of a friend,
and had signed his name twice for members who desired to obtain his
autograph.
Mr. Chase had introduced a resolution of thanks to Generals Twiggs,
Worth, Quitman, Pillow, Shields, Pearce, Cadwalader, and Smith, for
their services in the Mexican war, and awarding them gold medals. Mr.
Adams was in his seat, and voted on the two questions preliminary to
ordering its engrossment, with an uncommonly emphatic tone of voice. About
half past one o'clock, P. M., as the Speaker had risen to put another
question to the House, the proceedings were suddenly interrupted by cries
of "Stop!--stop!--Mr. Adams!" There was a quick movement towards the chair
of Mr. Adams, by two or three members, and in a moment he was surrounded
by a large number of Representatives, eagerly inquiring--"What's the
matter?"--"Has he fainted?"--"Is he dead?" JOHN QUINCY ADAMS, while
faithful at his post, and apparently about to rise to address the Speaker,
had sunk into a state of unconsciousness! He had been struck a second time
with paralysis. The scene was one of intense excitement. Pallor, anxiety,
alarm, were depicted on every countenance. "Take him out,"--"Bring
water,"--exclaimed several voices. He had been prevented from falling to
the floor by a member from Ohio, whose seat was near his--Mr. Fisher--who
received him in his arms. Immediately Mr. Grinnell, one of his colleagues
from Massachusetts, was by his side, keeping off a press of anxious
friends, and bathing his face with iced water.
"He was immediately lifted into the area in front of the Clerk's table.
The Speaker instantly suggested that some gentleman move an adjournment,
which being promptly done, the House adjourned. A sofa was brought, and
Mr. Adams, in a state of perfect helplessness, though not of entire
insensibility, was gently laid upon it. The sofa was then taken up and
borne out of the Hall into the Rotunda, where it was set down, and the
members of both Houses, and strangers, who were fast crowding around, were
with some difficulty repressed, and an open space cleared in its immediate
vicinity; but a medical gentleman, a member of the House, (who was prompt,
active, and self-possessed throughout the whole painful scene,) advised
that he be removed to the door of the Rotunda opening on the east portico,
where a fresh wind was blowing. This was done; but the air being chilly
and loaded with vapor, the sofa was, at the suggestion of Mr. Winthrop,
once more taken up and removed to the Speaker's apartment, the doors of
which were forthwith closed to all but professional gentlemen and
particular friends."
The features of the dying patriarch were almost as rigid as though in
death: but there was a serenity in his countenance which betokened an
absence of pain. There were five physicians, members of the House,
present, viz.:--Drs. Newell, Fries, Edwards, Jones of Georgia, and Lord.
These gentlemen were unremitting in their attentions. Drs. Lindsley and
Thomas, of the city, were also immediately called in. Under the advice of
the medical gentlemen present, he was cupped, and mustard plasters were
applied, which seemed to afford some relief. Reviving a little and
recovering consciousness, Mr. Adams inquired for his wife. She was
present, but in extreme illness, and suffering the most poignant sorrow.
After a few moments' interval he relapsed again into unconsciousness. A
correspondent of the New York Express describes as follows the progress of
these melancholy events:--
"Half past one o'clock.--Mr. Benton communicated to the Senate the notice
of the sudden illness of Mr. Adams, and moved an adjournment of that body.
"Quarter to two.--Mr. Adams has several physicians with him, but exhibits
no signs of returning consciousness. The report is that he is sinking.
"Two o'clock.--Mr. Giddings informs me that he shows signs of life. He
has just now attempted to speak, but cannot articulate a word. Under
medical advice he has submitted to leeching.
"Half past two.--Mrs. Adams and his niece and nephew are with him, and Mr.
A. is no worse. The reports, however, are quite contradictory, and many,
despair of his recovery.
"Three o'clock.--None but the physicians and the family are present, and
the reports again become more and more doubtful. The physicians say that
Mr. Adams may not live more than an hour, or he may live two or three
days.
"His right side is wholly paralyzed, and the left not under control, there
being continually involuntary motions of the muscles. Everything which
medical aid can do, has been done for his relief. Briefly, just now, by
close attention, he seemed anxious to 'thank the officers of the House.'
Then, again, he was heard to say--'This is the last of earth! I AM
CONTENT!' These were the last words which fell from the lips of, 'the old
man eloquent,' as his spirit plumed its pinions to soar to other worlds."
Mr. Adams lay in the Speaker's room, in a state of apparent
unconsciousness, through the 22d and 23d,--Congress, in the meantime,
assembling in respectful silence, and immediately adjourning from day to
day. The struggles of contending parties ceased--the strife for interest,
place, power, was hushed to repose. Silence reigned through the halls of
the capitol, save the cautious tread and whispered inquiry of anxious
questioners. The soul of a sage, a patriot, a Christian, is preparing to
depart from the world!--no sound is heard to ruffle its sweet serenity!--a
calmness and peace, fitting the momentous occasion, prevail around!
The elements of life and death continued their uncertain balance, until
seven o'clock, on the evening of the 23d, when the spirit of JOHN QUINCY
ADAMS bade adieu to earth forever, and winged its flight to God.
"Give forth thy chime, thou solemn bell,
Thou grave, unfold thy marble cell;
O earth! receive upon thy breast,
The weary traveller to his rest.
"O God! extend thy arms of love,
A spirit seeketh thee above!
Ye heav'nly palaces unclose,
Receive the weary to repose."
The tidings of Mr. Adams' death flew on electrical wings to every portion
of the Union. A statesman, a philanthropist, a father of the Republic, had
fallen. A nation heard, and were dissolved in tears!
In the history of American statesmen, none lived a life so long in the
public service--none had trusts so numerous confided to their care--none
died a death so glorious. Beneath the dome of the nation's capitol; in the
midst of the field of his highest usefulness, where he had won fadeless
laurels of renown; equipped with the armor in which he had fought so many
battles for truth and freedom, he fell beneath the shaft of the king of
terrors. And how bright, how enviable the reputation he left behind! As a
man, pure, upright, benevolent, religious--his hand unstained by a drop of
human blood; uncharged, unsuspected of crime, of premeditated wrong, of an
immoral act, of an unchaste word--as a statesman, lofty and patriotic in
all his purposes; devoted to the interests of the people; sacredly
exercising all power entrusted to his keeping for the good of the public
alone, unmindful of personal interest and aggrandizement; an enthusiastic
lover of liberty; a faithful, fearless defender of the rights of man! The
sun of his life in its lengthened course through the political heavens,
was unobscured by a spot, undimmed by a cloud; and when, at the close of
the long day, it sank beneath the horizon, the whole firmament glowed with
the brilliancy of its reflected glories! Rulers, statesmen, legislators!
study and emulate such a life--seek after a character so beloved, a death
so honorable, a fame so immortal. Like him--
"So live, that when thy summons comes to join
The innumerable caravan, that moves
To the pale realms of shade, where each shall take
His chamber in the silent halls of death,
Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night,
Scourged to his dungeon; but, sustained, and soothed
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave,
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams."
On the day succeeding Mr. Adams' death, when the two Houses of Congress
met, the full attendance of members, and a crowded auditory, attested the
deep desire felt by all to witness the proceedings which would take place
in relation to the death of one who had long occupied so high a place in
the councils of the Republic. As soon as the House of Representatives was
called to order, the Speaker, (the Hon. Robert C. Winthrop of
Massachusetts,) rose, and in a feeling manner addressed the House as
follows:--
"Gentlemen of the House of Representatives of the United States: It has
been thought fit that the Chair should announce officially to the House,
an event already known to the members individually, and which has filled
all our hearts with sadness. A seat on this floor has been vacated, toward
which all eyes have been accustomed to turn with no common interest. A
voice has been hushed forever in this Hall, to which all ears have been
wont to listen with profound reverence. A venerable form has faded from
our sight, around which we have daily clustered with an affectionate
regard. A name has been stricken from the roll of the living statesmen of
our land, which has been associated, for more than half a century, with
the highest civil service, and the loftiest civil renown.
"On Monday, the 21st instant, JOHN QUINCY ADAMS sunk in his seat, in
presence of us all, by a sudden illness, from which he never recovered;
and he died, in the Speaker's room, at a quarter past seven o'clock last
evening, with the officers of the House and the delegation of his own
Massachusetts around him.
"Whatever advanced age, long experience, great ability, vast learning,
accumulated public honors, a spotless private character, and a firm
religious faith, could do, to render anyone an object of interest,
respect, and admiration, they had done for this distinguished person; and
interest, respect, and admiration, are but feeble terms to express the
feelings with which the members of this House and the people of the
country have long regarded him.
"After a life of eighty years, devoted from its earliest maturity to the
public service, he has at length gone to his rest. He has been privileged
to die at his post; to fall while in the discharge of his duties; to
expire beneath the roof of the capitol; and to have his last scene
associated forever, in history, with the birthday of that illustrious
patriot, whose just discernment brought him first into the service of his
country.
"The close of such a life, under such circumstances, is not an event for
unmingled emotions. We cannot find it in our hearts to regret, that he has
died as he has died. He himself could have desired no other end. 'This is
the end of earth,' were his last words, uttered on the day on which he
fell. But we might also hear him exclaiming, as he left us--in a language
hardly less familiar to him than his native tongue--'Hoc est, nimirum,
magis feliciter de vita migrare, quam mori.'
"It is for others to suggest what honors shall be paid to his memory. No
acts of ours are necessary to his fame. But it may be due to ourselves and
to the country, that the national sense of his character and services
should be fitly commemorated."
Mr. Holmes of South Carolina arose and addressed the House in most
eloquent strains. The following are extracts from his eulogy:--
"The mingled tones of sorrow, like the voice of many waters, have come
unto us from a sister State--Massachusetts weeping for her honored son.
The State I have the honor in part to represent once endured, with yours,
a common suffering, battled for a common cause, and rejoiced in a common
triumph. Surely, then, it is meet that in this, the day of your
affliction, we should mingle our griefs.
"When a great man falls, the nation mourns; when a patriarch is removed,
the people weep. Ours, my associates, is no common bereavement. The chain
which linked our hearts with the gifted spirits of former times, has been
rudely snapped. The lips from which flowed those living and glorious
truths that our fathers uttered, are closed in death! Yes, my friends,
Death has been among us! He has not entered the humble cottage of some
unknown, ignoble peasant; he has knocked audibly at the palace of a
nation! His footstep has been heard in the Hall of State! He has cloven
down his victim in the midst of the councils of a people! He has borne in
triumph from among you the gravest, wisest, most reverend head! Ah! he has
taken him as a trophy who was once chief over many States, adorned with
virtue, and learning, and truth; he has borne at his chariot-wheels a
renowned one of the earth.
"There was no incident in the birth, the life, the death of Mr. Adams, not
intimately woven with the history of the land. Born in the night of his
country's tribulation, he heard the first murmurs of discontent; he saw
the first efforts for deliverance. Whilst yet a little child, he listened
with eagerness to the whispers of freedom as they breathed from the lips
of her almost inspired apostles: he caught the fire that was then kindled;
his eye beamed with the first ray; he watched the day spring from on high,
and long before he departed from earth, it was graciously vouchsafed unto
him to behold the effulgence of her noontide glory. * * * * * * *
"He disrobed himself with dignity of the vestures of office, not to retire
to the shades of Quincy, but, in the maturity of his intellect, in the
vigor of his thought, to leap into this arena, and to continue, as he had
begun, a disciple, an ardent devotee at the temple of his country's
freedom. How, in this department, he ministered to his country's wants, we
all know, and have witnessed. How often we have crowded into that aisle,
and clustered around that now vacant desk, to listen to the counsels of
wisdom, as they fell from the lips of the venerable sage, we can all
remember, for it was but of yesterday. But what a change! How wondrous!
how sudden! 'Tis like a vision of the night. That form which we beheld but
a few days since, is now cold in death!
"But the last Sabbath, and in this hall, he worshipped with others. Now
his spirit mingles with the noble army of martyrs, and the just made
perfect, in the eternal adoration of the living God. With him "this is the
end of earth." He sleeps the sleep that knows no waking. He is gone--and
forever! The sun that ushers in the morn of that next holy day, while it
gilds the lofty dome of the capitol, shall rest with soft and mellow light
upon the consecrated spot beneath whose turf forever lies the PATRIOT
FATHER and the PATRIOT SAGE!"
The following resolutions were unanimously passed by the House of
Representatives:--
"Resolved, That this House has heard with the deepest sensibility, of the
death in this capitol of JOHN QUINCY ADAMS, a Member of the House from the
State of Massachusetts.
"Resolved, That, as a testimony of respect for the memory of this
distinguished statesman, the officers and members of the House will wear
the usual badge of mourning, and attend the funeral in this hall on
Saturday next, at 12 o'clock.
"Resolved, That a committee of thirty be appointed to superintend the
funeral solemnities.
"Resolved, That the proceedings of this House in relation to the death of
JOHN QUINCY ADAMS be communicated to the family of the deceased by the
Clerk.
"Resolved, That the seat in this hall just vacated by the death of the
late JOHN QUINCY ADAMS be unoccupied for thirty days, and that it,
together with the hall, remain clothed with the symbol of mourning during
that time.
"Resolved, That the Speaker appoint one member of this House from each
State and Territory, as a committee to escort the remains of our venerable
friend, the Honorable JOHN QUINCY ADAMS, to the place designated by his
friends for his interment.
"Resolved, That this House, as a further mark of respect for the memory of
the deceased, do adjourn to Saturday next, the day appointed for the
funeral."
In the Senate, after a formal annunciation of the death of Mr. Adams, in a
message from the House of Representatives, Mr. Davis, of Massachusetts,
arose and delivered a feeling address, on the life and services of the
deceased patriot. The following are extracts:--
"Mr. President: By the recent affliction of my colleague, (Mr. Webster,) a
painful duty devolves upon me. The message just delivered from the House
proves that the hand of God has been again among us. A great and good man
has gone from our midst. If, in speaking of JOHN QUINCY ADAMS, I can give
utterance to the language of my own heart, I am confident I shall meet
with a response from the Senate.
"He was born in the then Province of Massachusetts, while she was girding
herself for the great revolutionary struggle which was then before her.
His parentage is too well known to need even an allusion; yet I may be
pardoned if I say, that his father seemed born to aid in the establishment
of our free Government, and his mother was a suitable companion and
co-laborer of such a patriot. The cradle hymns of the child were the songs
of liberty. The power and competence of man for self-government were the
topics which he most frequently heard discussed by the wise men of the
day, and the inspiration thus caught gave form and pressure to his after
life. Thus early imbued with the love of free institutions, educated by
his father for the service of his country, and early led by WASHINGTON to
its altar, he has stood before the world as one of its eminent statesmen.
He has occupied, in turn, almost every place of honor which the country
could give him, and for more than half a century, has been thus identified
with its history. * * * * *
"It is believed to have been the earnest wish of his heart to die, like
Chatham, in the midst of his labors. It was a sublime thought, that where
he had toiled in the house of the nation, in hours of the day devoted to
its service, the stroke of death should reach him, and there sever the
ties of love and patriotism which bound him to earth. He fell in his seat,
attacked by paralysis, of which he had before been a subject. To describe
the scene which ensued would be impossible. It was more than the
spontaneous gush of feeling which all such events call forth, so much to
the honor of our nature. It was the expression of reverence for his moral
worth, of admiration for his great intellectual endowments, and of
veneration for his age and public services. All gathered round the
sufferer, and the strong sympathy and deep feeling which were manifested,
showed that the business of the House (which was instantly adjourned) was
forgotten amid the distressing anxieties of the moment. He was soon
removed to the apartment of the Speaker, where he remained surrounded by
afflicted friends till the weary clay resigned its immortal spirit. 'This
is the end of earth!' Brief but emphatic words. They were among the last
uttered by the dying Christian."
When Mr. Davis had concluded his remarks, Mr. Benton, of Missouri,
delivered a most beautiful eulogy on the character of Mr. Adams. He
said:--
"Mr. President: The voice of his native State has been heard through one
of the Senators of Massachusetts, announcing the death of her aged and
most distinguished son. The voice of the other Senator, (Mr. Webster,) is
not heard, nor is his presence seen. A domestic calamity, known to us all,
and felt by us all, confines him to the chamber of private grief, while
the Senate is occupied with the public manifestations of a respect and
sorrow which a national loss inspires. In the absence of that Senator, and
as the member of this body longest here, it is not unfitting or unbecoming
in me to second the motion which has been made for extending the last
honors of the Senate to him who, forty-five years ago, was a member of
this body, who, at the time of his death, was among the oldest members of
the House of Representatives, and who, putting the years of his service
together, was the oldest of all the members of the American Government.
"The eulogium of Mr. Adams is made in the facts of his life, which the
Senator from Massachusetts (Mr. Davis) has so strikingly stated, that,
from early manhood to octogenarian age, he has been constantly and most
honorably employed in the public service. For a period of more than fifty
years, from the time of his first appointment as Minister abroad under
Washington, to his last election to the House of Representatives by the
people of his native district, he has been constantly retained in the
public service, and that, not by the favor of a Sovereign, or by
hereditary title, but by the elections and appointments of republican
Government. This fact makes the eulogy of the illustrious deceased. For
what, except a union of all the qualities which command the esteem and
confidence of man, could have ensured a public service so long, by
appointments free and popular, and from sources so various and exalted?
Minister many times abroad; member of this body; member of the House of
Representatives; cabinet Minister; President of the United States; such
has been the galaxy of his splendid appointments. And what but moral
excellence the most perfect--intellectual ability the most eminent--
fidelity the most unwavering--service the most useful, could have
commanded such a succession of appointments so exalted, and from sources
so various and so eminent? Nothing less could have commanded such a series
of appointments; and accordingly we see the union of all these great
qualities in him who has received them.
"In this long career of public service Mr. Adams was distinguished not
only by faithful attention to all the great duties of his stations, but to
all their less and minor duties. He was not the Salaminian galley, to be
launched only on extraordinary occasions, but he was the ready vessel,
always launched when the duties of his station required it, be the
occasion great or small. As President, as cabinet Minister, as Minister
abroad, he examined all questions that came before him, and examined all
in all their parts, in all the minutiae of their detail, as well as in all
the vastness of their comprehension. As Senator, and as a member of the
House of Representatives, the obscure committee-room was as much the
witness of his laborious application to the drudgery of legislation, as
the halls of the two Houses were to the ever ready speech, replete with
knowledge, which instructed all hearers, enlightened all subjects, and
gave dignity and ornament to debate.
"In the observance of all the proprieties of life, Mr. Adams was a most
noble and impressive example. He cultivated the minor as well as the
greater virtues. Wherever his presence could give aid and countenance to
what was useful and honorable to man, there he was. In the exercises of
the school and of the college--in the meritorious meetings of the
agricultural, mechanical, and commercial societies--in attendance upon
Divine worship--he gave the punctual attendance rarely seen but in those
who are free from the weight of public cares.
"Punctual to every duty, death found him at the post of duty; and where
else could it have found him, at any stage of his career, for the fifty
years of his illustrious public life? From the time of his first
appointment by Washington to his last election by the people of his native
town, where could death have found him but at the post of duty? At that
post, in the fullness of age in the ripeness of renown, crowned with
honors, surrounded by his family, his friends, and admirers, and in the
very presence of the national representation, he has been gathered to his
fathers, leaving behind him the memory of public services which are the
history of his country for half a century, and the example of a life,
public and private, which should be the study and the model of the
generations of his countrymen."
At the conclusion of Mr. Benton's address, the following resolutions,
introduced by Mr. Davis, were passed by the Senate:--
"Resolved, That the Senate has received with deep sensibility the message
from the House of Representatives announcing the death of the Hon. JOHN
QUINCY ADAMS, a Representative from the State of Massachusetts.
"Resolved, That, in token of respect for the memory of the deceased, the
Senate will attend his funeral at the hour appointed by the House of
Representatives, and will wear the usual badge of mourning for thirty
days.
"Resolved, That, as a further mark of respect for the memory of the
deceased, the Senate do now adjourn until Saturday next, the time
appointed for the funeral."
President Polk issued a Proclamation announcing to the nation its
bereavement, and directing the suspension of all public business for the
day. The public offices were clothed in mourning. Orders were issued from
the War and Navy Departments, directing that at every military and naval
station, on the day after the order should be received, the honors
customary to the illustrious dead should be paid.
At 12 o'clock on Saturday, the 26th of February, the funeral took place in
the capitol. It was a solemn, an imposing scene. The Hall of
Representatives was hung in sable habiliments. The portraits of Washington
and La Fayette, the beautiful statue of the Muse of History in the car of
Time, and the vacant chair of the deceased, were wreathed in crape. In the
midst, and the most conspicuous of all, was the coffin containing the
remains of the illustrious dead, covered with its velvet pall. The
President of the United States, and the Heads of Departments, the Members
of both Houses of Congress, the Judges of the Supreme Court, the Foreign
Ministers, Officers of the Army and Navy, Members of State Legislatures,
and an immense concourse of the great, the wise, and the good, were
present, to bestow honor on all that remained of the statesman, the
philosopher, and the Christian.
A discourse was delivered on the occasion, by the Rev. R. R. Gurley,
chaplain to the House of Representatives, from Job xi. 17, 18--"And thine
age shall be clearer than the noon-day; thou shalt shine forth, thou
shalt be as the morning: and thou shalt be secure, because there is
hope." The following are extracts from the sermon:--
"In some circumstances, on some occasions, we most naturally express our
emotions in silence and in tears. What voice of man can add to the
impressiveness and solemnity of this scene? The presence and aspect of
this vast assembly, the Chief Magistrate, Counsellors, Judges, Senators,
and Representatives of the nation, distinguished officers of the army and
the navy, and the honored Ambassadors from foreign powers,--these symbols
and badges of a universal mourning, darkening this hall into sympathy with
our sorrow, leave no place for the question, 'Know ye not that a prince
and a great man is fallen in Israel?' Near to us, indeed, has come the
invisible hand of the Almighty--that hand in which is the soul of every
living thing, and the breath of all mankind; in this very hall, from
yonder seat, which he so long occupied, in the midst of the
representatives of the people, has it taken one full of years and honors,
eminent, for more than half a century, in various departments of the
public service; who adorned every station, even the highest, by his
abilities and virtues; and whose influence, powerful in its beneficence,
is felt in many, if not in all the States of the civilized world.
* * * * *
"Not more certainly is the body invigorated and preserved by suitable
food, by manly exercises, by the vital air, than are the intellectual and
moral faculties by the investigation and reception of divine truths, by
habits of obedience to the divine will, by cheerful submission to the
order and discipline of Divine Providence. Nor let us ever distrust the
Father of our spirits, who knows perfectly all the wants of our nature,
but rest assured that his commandments in the sacred Scriptures are
entirely in harmony with the decrees of his providence; and that as to
fear Him and keep His commandments is the whole duty (because the highest
duty, and comprehending all others), so will it prove the whole and
eternal happiness of man. If the indissoluble and harmonious connection
between the laws of nature, of Providence and the moral law, be not
always obvious, it is always certain. Over all the darkness, disturbances,
and evils of the world shines revealed, more or less clearly, like the
serene and cheerful heavens, this immutable law, binding virtue, however
obscure, persecuted, or forsaken, to reward; duty, however humble or
arduous, to happiness. Hence the declaration, that all things shall work
together for good to them who love God, and that all things are
theirs--the past and future, things temporal and spiritual, prosperity and
adversity, angels, and principalities, and powers, and God himself, in all
the resources of his wisdom and all the eternity of his reign.
"How shone out, clear as the noonday, yet mild and gentle as the morning,
even in age, in the life and character of that great and venerable man,
around whose precious, but, alas! inanimate form we all press in
gratitude, admiration, and love, those high virtues derived from faith in
God, and nurtured by his revealed truth, this bereaved Congress, and, I
may add, this nation witnesses. * * * * * *
"Truly emblematic of his moral integrity and strength of character would
be the granite column from his native hills, one and entire, just in its
proportions, towering in its height, immoveable in its foundations, and
pointing to Heaven as the temple and throne of everlasting authority, the
final refuge, the imperishable home of all regenerated and faithful souls.
"Independence of mere human authority in the use of his reason, on all
subjects, was united with veneration most sincere and profound for the
sacred Scriptures, as a supernatural revelation from God, 'whose
prerogative extends not less to the reason than the will of man,' and from
a daily perusal of the Divine Word, and a constant and devout attendance
upon the public worship of the Sabbath, although differing on some points
from common opinions, he cherished enlarged views of Christian communion,
and recognized in most, if not all the religious denominations of this
country, members of one and the same family and kingdom of Jesus Christ.
* * * * * * *
"Alas, the sad and appalling ruins of death! 'This is the end of earth.'
Approach! lovers of pleasure, seekers after wisdom, aspirants, by
pre-eminence in station, and power, and influence among men, to fame; see
the end of human distinctions and earthly greatness! Surely man walketh
in a vain show; surely man in his best estate is altogether vanity. How
pertinent to this scene the words of Job: 'He leadeth princes away
spoiled, and overthroweth the mighty. He removeth away the speech of the
trusty, and taketh away the understanding of the aged. He discovereth
deep things out of darkness, and bringeth out to light the shadow of
death!' How, indeed, is the mighty fallen, and the head of the wise laid
low! All flesh is grass--all the glory of man as the flower of the field.
And shall this vast congregation soon be brought to the grave--that house
appointed for all the living? Hear, then, the great announcement of the
Son of God: 'I am the resurrection and the life, and whosoever believeth
in me, though he were dead yet shall he live, and whosoever liveth and
believeth in me shall never die.' Is it strange that he who communed so
much with the future as the great statesman to whose virtues and memory we
now pay this sad, final, solemn tribute of honor and affection, should, in
the last conversation I ever had with him, have expressed both regret and
astonishment at the indifference among too many of our public men to the
truths and ordinances of our holy religion? Is it to affect our hearts
that he has been permitted to fall in the midst of us, to arouse us from
this insensibility, and cause us to press towards the gates of the eternal
city of God? Let us bless God for another great example to shine upon us,
that another star (we humbly trust) is planted amid the heavenly
constellations to guide us to eternity!"
At the conclusion of the exercises in the capitol, a vast procession,
escorted by military companies, conveyed the remains to the Congressional
burying ground, where they were to rest until preparations for their
removal to Quincy should be completed.
"Sad was the pomp that yesterday beheld,
As with the mourner's heart the anthem swelled;
The rich-plumed canopy, the gorgeous pall,
The sacred march, and sable vested wall!--
These were not rites of inexpressive show,
But hallowed as the types of real woe!
Illustrious deceased! a NATION'S sighs,
A NATION'S HEART, went with thine obsequies!"
The following letter of thanks from Mrs. Adams, addressed to the Speaker,
was laid before the House of Representatives:--
"Washington, February 29, 1848.
"SIR: The resolutions in honor of my dear deceased husband, passed by the
illustrious assembly over which you preside, and of which he at the moment
of his death was a member, have been duly communicated to me.
"Penetrated with grief at this distressing event of my life, mourning the
loss of one who has been at once my example and my support through the
trials of half a century, permit me nevertheless to express through you my
deepest gratitude for the signal manner in which the public regard has
been voluntarily manifested by your honorable body, and the consolation
derived to me and mine from the reflection that the unwearied efforts of
an old public servant have not even in this world proved without their
reward in the generous appreciation of them by his country.
"With great respect, I remain, sir, your obedient servant,
"LOUISA CATHARINE ADAMS."
On the following week, the Committee of one from each State and Territory
in the Union, appointed by the House of Representatives to take charge of
the remains of the deceased ex-President, and convey them to Quincy for
final interment, commenced their journey. It was a new, yet inexpressibly
thrilling and imposing spectacle. The dead body of "the Old Man Eloquent,"
surrounded and guarded by a son of each of the States and Territories of
that Union which he had so largely assisted in consolidating and
sustaining, leaves the capitol of the nation, where for more than thirty
years he had acted the most conspicuous part among the fathers of the
land, to rest in the tomb of its ancestors, amid the venerable shades of
Quincy. How solemn the progress of such a procession. It was indeed, "the
Funeral March of the Dead!" Wherever it passed, the people rose up and
paid the utmost marks of respect to the remains of one who had occupied so
large a space in the history of his country. In towns, in villages, in
cities, as the mournful cortege swept through, business was suspended,
flags were displayed at half mast, bells were tolled, minute guns were
fired, civil and military processions received the sacred remains, and
watched over them by night and by day, and passed them on from State to
State.
"What a progress was it which the dead patriot thus made! From the capitol
of the nation, beneath whose dome, and while at his post of duty, he was
seized by death--within sight almost of that Mount Vernon where repose
the ashes of him, the Father of his Country, who first distinguished,
encouraged and employed the extraordinary capacity of the youthful
Adams--through cities that in his life time have grown up from
villages--passing, at Baltimore, almost beneath the shadow of the monument
which there testifies of the valor of those who fell for country in the
war of 1812--and in Philadelphia halting and reposing within the hall
where his great father; John Adams, had fearlessly stood for Independence,
and where Independence was proclaimed--the dead passed on, everywhere
followed by the reverential gaze and the mourning heart, till, reaching
the great metropolis of New York, where the same father had been sworn in
and taken his seat, as the first Vice President of the United States, with
George Washington for President! Thence away the march was resumed, till
it reached old Faneuil Hall--the cradle of American liberty, the fitting
final restingplace, while yet unburied, of the body of one in whose heart,
at no moment of life, did the love of liberty, imbibed or strengthened in
that hall, suffer the slightest abatement." [Footnote: King's Eulogy.]
Faneuil Hall was clothed in the dark drapery of mourning, fitting to
receive the body of one of the greatest of the many noble sons of the
venerable Bay State. Amid solemn dirges and appropriate ceremonies, the
chairman of the Congressional Committee surrendered to a Committee from
the Legislature of Massachusetts, the sacred remains they had accompanied
from the capitol of the United States.--
"Throughout the journey," said the chairman, "there have been displayed
manifestations of the highest admiration and respect for the memory of
your late distinguished fellow-citizen. In the large cities through which
we expected to pass, we anticipated such demonstrations; but in every
village and hamlet, at the humblest cottage which we passed, and from the
laborers in the field, the same profound respect was testified by their
uncovered heads."
The Committee of the Massachusetts Legislature having thus received the
body from its Congressional escort, in turn surrendered it to the keeping
of the municipal authorities of Boston, for burial at Quincy. This
ceremony was performed by Mr. Buckingham, chairman of the Legislative
Committee, in these impressive words:--
"In the name and behalf of the Government and People of the Commonwealth
of Massachusetts, whose honored but humble servant I this day am, I
consign to your faithful keeping, Mr. Mayor, the remains of JOHN QUINCY
ADAMS--all that was mortal of that venerable man, whose age and whose
virtues had rendered him an object of intense interest and admiration to
his country and to the world. We place these sacred remains in your
possession, to be conveyed to their appointed home--to sleep in the
sepulchre and with the dust of his fathers."
Mr. Quincy, the Mayor, in accepting the guardianship conferred upon him in
behalf of the city of Boston, replied in the following terms:--
"There is something sublime in the scene that surrounds us. An honored son
of Massachusetts--one who was educated by a signer of the Declaration of
Independence--one who heard the thunder of the great struggle for liberty
on yonder hill, has, after a life of unparalleled usefulness and fidelity,
fallen in the capitol of the country he served. His remains were escorted
here by delegates from every State in the Union. They have passed over
spots ever memorable in history. They have everywhere been received with
funeral honors. They have reposed in the hall of independence. They now
lie in the cradle of liberty. As a citizen of Massachusetts, I cannot but
acknowledge our sense of the honor paid to her distinguished son. Mourned
by a nation at its capitol, attended by the representatives of millions to
the grave, he has received a tribute to his memory unequalled among men.
"These remains now rest in the cradle of liberty. It is their last
resting-place on their journey home. As a statesman's, 'this is to them
the last of earth!' To-morrow they will be deposited in the peaceful
church-yard of the village of his birth, there to be mourned, not as
statesmen mourn for statesmen, but as friends mourn for friends.
"He will be 'gathered to his fathers!' And how great, in this case, is the
significance of the expression! It is possible that other men may be
attended as he will be to the grave. But when again shall the tomb of a
President of the United States open its doors to receive a son who has
filled the same office?"
On the following day, the body, under the charge of the municipal officers
of Boston, was conveyed to Quincy. In the Unitarian church, in the
presence of old neighbors and friends, the last funeral exercises were
held, and the last sad burial service was performed.
By the side of the graves of his fathers, overshadowed by aged trees,
which had sheltered his head in the days of boyhood, in a plain tomb,
prepared under his own direction, and inscribed simply with his name,
sleep the ashes of JOHN QUINCY ADAMS.
"Let no weak drops
Be shed for him. The virgin in her bloom
Cut off, the joyous youth, and darling child,
These are the tombs that claim the tender tear
And elegiac songs. But Adams calls
For other notes of gratulation high;
That now he wanders thro' those endless worlds
He here so well descried; and, wondering, talks
And hymns their Author with his glad compeers.
Columbia's boast! whether with angels thou
Sittest in dread discourse, or fellow blest
Who joy to see the honor of their kind;
Or whether, mounted on cherubic wing,
Thy swift career is with the whirling orbs,
Comparing things with things, in rapture lost,
And grateful adoration for that light
So plenteous ray'd into thy mind below
From Light himself--oh! look with pity down
On human kind, a frail, erroneous race!
Exalt the spirit of a downward world!
O'er thy dejected country chief preside,
And be her Genius called! her studies raise,
Correct her manners, and inspire her youth;
For, though deprav'd and sunk, she brought thee forth,
And glories in thy name. She points thee out
To all her sons, and bids them eye thy star--
Thy star, which, followed steadfastly, shall lead
To wisdom, virtue, glory here, and joy
Unspeakable in worlds to come."
EULOGY.[Footnote: Delivered before the Legislature of New York, by Wm. H.
Seward.]
------
We are in the midst of extraordinary events. British-American Civilization
and Spanish-American Society have come into collision, each in its fullest
maturity. The armies of the North have penetrated the chapparels at Palo
Alto and Resaca de la Palma--passed the fortresses of Monterey, and rolled
back upon the heart of Mexico the unavailing tide of strong resistance
from the mountain-side of Buena Vista. Martial colonists are encamped on
the coasts of California, while San Juan d'Ulloa has fallen, and the
invaders have swept the gorge of Cerro Gordo--carried Perote and Puebla,
and planted the banner of burning stars and ever-multiplying stripes on
the towers of the city of the Aztecs.
The thirtieth Congress assembles in this conjuncture, and the debates are
solemn, earnest, and bewildering. Interest, passion, conscience, freedom,
and humanity, all have their advocates. Shall new loans and levies be
granted to prosecute still farther a war so glorious? or shall it be
abandoned? Shall we be content with the humiliation of the foe? or shall
we complete his subjugation? Would that severity be magnanimous, or even
just? Nay, is the war itself just? Who provoked, and by what unpardonable
offence, this disastrous strife between two eminent Republics, so
scandalous to Democratic Institutions? Where shall we trace anew the
ever-advancing line of our empire? Shall it be drawn on the shore of the
Rio Grande, or on the summit of the Sierra Madre? or shall Mexican
Independence be extinguished, and our eagle close his adventurous pinions
only when he looks off upon the waves that separate us from the Indies?
Does Freedom own and accept our profuse oblations of blood, or does she
reject the sacrifice? Will these conquests extend her domain, or will they
be usurped by ever-grasping slavery? What, effect will this new-born
ambition have upon ourselves? Will it leave us the virtue to continue the
career of social progress? How shall we govern the conquered people? Shall
we incorporate their mingled races with ourselves, or rule them with the
despotism of proconsular power? Can we preserve these remote and hostile
possessions in any way, without forfeiting our own blood-bought heritage
of freedom?
Steam and lightning, which have become docile messengers, make the
American people listeners to this high debate, and anxiety, and interest,
intense and universal, absorb them all. Suddenly the council is dissolved.
Silence is in the capitol, and sorrow has thrown its pall over the land.
What new event is this? Has some Cromwell closed the legislative
chambers? or has some Caesar, returning from his distant conquests, passed
the Rubicon, seized the purple, and fallen in the Senate beneath the
swords of self-appointed executioners of his country's vengeance? No!
nothing of all this. What means, then, this abrupt and fearful silence?
What unlooked for calamity has quelled the debates of the Senate and
calmed the excitement of the people? An old man, whose tongue once indeed
was eloquent, but now through age had well nigh lost its cunning, has
fallen into the swoon of death. He was not an actor in the drama of
conquest--nor had his feeble voice yet mingled in the lofty argument--
"A grey-haired sire, whose eye intent
Was on the visioned future bent."
And now he has dreamed out at last the troubled dream of life. Sighs of
unavailing grief ascend to Heaven. Panegyric, fluent in long-stifled
praise, performs its office. The army and the navy pay conventional
honors, with the pomp of national woe, and then the hearse moves onward.
It rests appropriately, on its way, in the hall where independence was
proclaimed, and again under the dome where freedom was born. At length the
tomb of JOHN ADAMS opens to receive a SON, who also, born a subject of a
king had stood as a representative of his emancipated country, before
principalities and powers, and had won by merit, and worn without
reproach, the honors of the Republic.
From that scene, so impressive in itself, and impressive because it never
before happened, and can never happen again, we have come up to this place
surrounded with the decent drapery of public mourning, on a day set apart
by authority, to recite the history of the citizen, who, in the ripeness
of age, and fulness of honors, has thus descended to his rest. It is fit
to do so, because it is by such exercises that nations regenerate their
early virtues and renew their constitutions. All nations must perpetually
renovate their virtues and their constitutions, or perish. Never was there
more need to renovate ours than now, when we seem to be passing from the
safe old policy of peace and moderation into a career of conquest and
martial renown. Never was the duty of preserving our free institutions in
all their purity, more obvious than it is now, when they have become
beacons to mankind in what seems to be a general dissolution of their
ancient social systems.
The history of JOHN QUINCY ADAMS is one that opens no new truth in the
philosophy of virtue; for there is no undiscovered truth in that
philosophy. But it is a history that sheds marvellous confirmation on
maxims which all mankind know, and yet are prone to undervalue and forget.
The exalted character before us was formed by the combination of virtue,
courage, assiduity, and modesty, under favorable conditions, with native
talent and genius, and illustrates the truth, that in morals as in nature,
simplicity is the chief element of the sublime.
John Quincy Adams was fortunate in his lineage; in the period, and in the
place of his nativity; in all the circumstances of education; in the age
and country in which he lived; in the incidents, as well as the occasions
of his public service; and in the period and manner of his death. He was a
descendant from one of the Puritan planters of Massachusetts, and a son of
the most intrepid actor in the Revolution of Independence. Quincy, the
place of his birth, is a plain, bounded on the west by towering granite
hills, and swept without defence by every wind from the ocean. Its soil
in ancient times was as sterile as its climate is always rigorous.