MR. ADAMS. No, that is the worst of all, for it looks specious, while it
is ruinous; for what is to become of the minority? This is the only
principle--THE GREATEST GOOD OF ALL.
It must be admitted that much tyranny lurks in this favorite democratic
tenet, not half as democratic, however, as Mr. Adams's amendment. Wrongs
and outrages the most unmerciful, have been committed by majorities. It
may even happen where the forms of law are maintained; but what shall be
said when the majority resolves itself into a mob? When rivers of
innocent blood may (as they have) run from city gates. The tyranny of
majorities is irresponsible, without redress, and without punishment,
except in the ultimate iron grasp of "the higher law."
Mr. Adams's view, so much larger than the common one, may, with a strong
probability, be traced to the mother. In her letters to him, she insists
again and again upon the duty of universal kindness and benevolence.
Patriot as she was, she pitied the Refugees. She said to him,
"Man is bound to the performance of certain duties, all which tend to
the happiness and welfare of society, and are comprised in one short
sentence expressive of universal benevolence: 'Thou shalt love thy
neighbor as thyself.'
"Remember more, the Universal Cause
Acts not by partial, but by general laws;
And makes what happiness we justly call,
Subsist, not in the good of one, but ALL.'"
In other letters she illustrated observations in the same spirit by
these quotations:
"Shall I determine where his frowns shall fall,
And fence my grotto from the lot of ALL?"
"Prompt at every call,
Can watch and weep and pray and feel for ALL."
One evening, at his house in F street in Washington, he spoke of Judge
Parsons, of his depth and subtlety, and the conciseness of his language.
"Soon after I entered his office he said to us students--'Lord Bacon
observes that "reading makes a full man, conversation a ready man,
writing a correct man." Young gentlemen, my advice to you is, that you
study to be full, ready and correct.' I thought," said Mr. Adams, "that
I never heard good advice so well conveyed."
He was asked by the writer whether he had ever received any
acknowledgment of his services, any mark of gratitude from the colored
people of the District? "None," said he--"except that I now and then
hear, _in a low tone_, a hearty GOD BLESS YOU! That is enough."
It was enough; enough for recompense and for justification, since we are
in the sad pass that justification is needed--since
"Virtue itself of Vice must pardon beg,
And pray for leave to do him good."
So then, in this Republic there are millions of human hearts, which are
not permitted to love a benefactor, and dare not utter for him an
invocation, kindred to their devotion to God, except "in a low tone!"
When in 1846 Mr. Adams was struck the first time with palsy, he was
visited by Charles Sumner, who sat much by his bedside. As he became
better, he said one day to his visitor: "You will enter public life; you
do not want it, but you will be drawn into the current, in spite of
yourself. Now I have a word of advice to give you. _Never accept a
present._ While I was in Russia, the Minister of the Interior, an old
man, whose conscience became more active as his bodily powers failed,
grew uneasy on account of the presents he had received. He calculated
the value of them, and paid it all over to the Imperial treasury. This
put me to thinking upon the subject, and I then made a resolution never
to accept a present while I remained in the public service; and I never
have, unless it was some trifling token, as a hat or cane."
A neighboring clergyman, to whom this conversation was related,
exclaimed--"A hat! That cannot be, for he never had any but an old one."
It was a tradition in Cambridge that Mr. Adams, while Professor in the
University, was noted for indifference to personal appearance, and his
well-worn hat was particularly remembered.
In the relation of husband Mr. Adams showed the same fidelity and
devotedness which characterized him in every other. He was united to a
woman whose virtues and accomplishments blessed and adorned his home. In
a letter written shortly after his noble vindication of the character of
woman, and the propriety and utility of their intervention in public
affairs, he said:
"Had I not, by the dispensation of Providence, been blessed beyond the
ordinary lot of humanity in all the domestic relations of life, as a
son, a brother, and a husband, I should still have thought myself bound
to vindicate the social rights and the personal honor of the
petitioners, who had confided to me the honorable trust of presenting
the expression of their wishes to the legislative councils of the
nation. But that this sense of imperious duty was quickened within my
bosom by the affectionate estimate of the female character impressed
upon my heart and mind by the virtues of the individual woman, with whom
it has been my lot to pass in these intimate relations my days upon
earth, I have no doubt."
In 1840 he had a severe fall, striking his head against the corner of an
iron rail, which inflicted a heavy contusion on his forehead, and
rendered him for some time insensible. His left shoulder was likewise
dislocated. This occurred at the House of Representatives after
adjournment. Fortunately several members were within call, and gave him
the most tender and assiduous assistance. He was carried to the lodgings
of one of them, and a physician called. With the united strength of four
men, it took more than an hour to reduce the dislocation. "Still," says
a witness of the scene, "Mr. Adams uttered not a murmur, though the
great drops of sweat which rolled down his furrowed cheeks, or stood
upon his brow, told but too well the agony he suffered." At his request
he was immediately conveyed to his house; and the next morning, to the
astonishment of every one, he was found in his seat as usual. He was
accustomed to be the first to enter the House and the last to leave it.
Mr. Everett tells us that he had his seat by the side of the veteran,
and that he should not have been more surprised to miss one of the
marble pillars from the hall than Mr. Adams.
That this painful accident did not impair the vigor of his mind is
evident from the fact that he subsequently argued the Amistad case, and
sustained the fierce contest of three days on the expulsion resolution
in the House. It was three years later also that he made the journey for
the benefit of his health, which turned out an improvised and continuous
ovation. He had designed merely to visit Lebanon Springs. He was so much
pleased with his journey thus far into the State of New-York, that he
concluded to prolong it to Quebec, Montreal, and Niagara Falls, and
return to Massachusetts through the length of the empire State. This
return was signalized by attentions and homage on the part of the people
so spontaneous and unanimous, that nothing which has occurred since the
progress of La Fayette, has equalled it. "Public greetings, processions,
celebrations, met and accompanied every step of his journey." Addresses
by eminent men, and acclamations of men, women, and children, who
thronged the way, bore witness of the deep hold which the man, without
accessories of office and pageantry of state, had of their hearts. Of
this excursion he said himself towards the close of it, "I have not come
alone, the whole people of the State of New-York have been my
companions." In the autumn of the same year he went to Cincinnati to
assist in laying the foundation of an observatory. This journey was
attended by similar demonstrations. At a cordial greeting given him at
Maysville, Kentucky, after an emphatic testimony to the integrity of Mr.
Clay, he made that renewed and solemn denial of the charges of "bargain
and corruption."
He suffered a stroke of paralysis in November, 1846, but recovered, and
took his seat at the ensuing session of Congress. He regarded this as
equivalent to a final summons, and made no subsequent entry in his
faithful diary except under the title of "posthumous." After this he
spoke little in the House.
In November, 1847, he left his home in Quincy for the last time. On the
twentieth of February he passed his last evening at his house in
Washington. He retired to his library at nine o'clock, where his wife
read to him a sermon by Bishop Wilberforce on Time. The next morning he
rose early and occupied himself with his pen as he was wont. With more
than usual spryness and alacrity he ascended the stairs of the Capitol.
In the House a resolution for awarding thanks and gold medals to several
officers concerned in the Mexican war was taken up. Mr. Adams uttered
his emphatic _No!_ on two or three preliminary questions. When the final
question was about to be put, and while he was in the act of rising, as
it was supposed, to address the House, he sunk down. He was borne to the
speaker's room. He revived so far as to inquire for his wife, who was
present. He seemed desirous of uttering thanks. The only distinct words
he articulated were, "This is the end of earth. I am content." He
lingered until the evening of the twenty-third, and then expired.
Thus he fell at his post in the eighty-first year of his age, the age of
Plato. With the exception of Phocion there is no active public life
continued on the great arena, with equal vigor and usefulness, to so
advanced an age. Lord Mansfield retired at eighty-three; but the quiet
routine of a judicial station is not as trying as the varied and
boisterous contentions of a political and legislative assembly. Ripe as
he was for heaven; he was still greatly needed upon earth. His services
would have been of inestimable importance in disposing of the perilous
questions, not yet definitively settled, which arose out of unhallowed
war and conquest.
There is not much satisfaction in dwelling upon the general effusions of
eloquence, or the pageantry which ensued. A single glance of guileless
love from the men, women and children, who came forth from their smiling
villages to greet the virtuous old statesman in his unpretending
journeys, was worth the whole of it. The hearty tribute of Mr. Benton,
so long a denouncer, has an exceptional value, the greater because he
had made honorable amends to the departed during his life. That he was
sincerely and deeply mourned by the nation, it would be a libel on the
nation to doubt. His remains rested appropriately in Independence and
Faneuil Halls on the way to their final resting place, the tomb he had
made for those of his venerated parents. There he was laid by his
neighbors and townsmen, sorrowing for the friend and the MAN. His
monument is to stand on the other side of the pulpit.
Happy place which hallows such memories, and holds up such EXAMPLES.