ADAMS AND JEFFERSON.
July 4, 1826, was a memorable day. It was the fiftieth anniversary
of American Independence, and for that reason, if no other, it was
likely to be a day of note. But, by a singular coincidence, two eminent
Americans, fathers of the republic, both of whom had filled the
Presidency, yielded up their lives.
When John Adams was dying at Quincy, in Massachusetts, he spoke of his
great countryman, Thomas Jefferson, who he naturally supposed was to
survive him. But the same day, and that the natal day of the republic,
brought the illustrious career of each to a close. Not untimely, for
John Adams had passed the age of ninety, and Jefferson was but a few
years younger.
Those were not the days of telegraphs nor of railroads, and the
news had to be conveyed by stage-coaches, so that it was perhaps
a month before the country through its large extent knew of the
double loss which it had sustained. It was certainly by a most
remarkable coincidence that these two great leaders, representing the
two political parties which divided the country, but one in their
devotion to the common welfare, passed from earthly scenes on the same
anniversary. It was no wonder that they were the subjects of public
addresses and sermons throughout the United States.
Of all those addresses but one is remembered to-day. It was the oration
delivered by Daniel Webster on the 2d of August, 1826. This too was
an anniversary, the anniversary of the day when the Declaration of
Independence had been engrossed by the Revolutionary Congress.
As the circumstances attending the delivery of this oration will be new
to my young readers, I quote from Mr. Ticknor’s description, as I find
it in Mr. Curtis’s Life of Mr. Webster. After detailing an interview,
in which Mr. Webster read him in advance some portions of the oration,
he proceeds:
“The next day, the 2d of August, the weather was fine, and the
concourse to hear him immense. It was the first time that Faneuil
Hall had been draped in mourning. The scene was very solemn, though
the light of day was not excluded. Settees had been placed over the
whole area of the hall; the large platform was occupied by many of the
most distinguished men in New England, and, as it was intended that
everything should be conducted with as much quietness as possible,
the doors were closed when the procession had entered, and every
part of the hall and galleries was filled. This was a mistake in the
arrangements; the crowd on the outside, thinking that some space
must still be left within, became very uneasy, and finally grew so
tumultuous and noisy that the solemnities were interrupted. The police
in vain attempted to restore order. It seemed as if confusion would
prevail. Mr. Webster perceived that there was but one thing to be done.
He advanced to the front of the stage, and said in a voice easily heard
above the noise of tumult without and of alarm within, ‘_Let those
doors be opened_.’
“The power and authority of his manner were irresistible; the doors
were opened, though with difficulty, from the pressure of the crowd on
the outside; but after the first rush everything was quiet, and the
order during the rest of the performance was perfect.
“Mr. Webster spoke in an orator’s gown and wore small-clothes. He was
in the perfection of his manly beauty and strength, his form filled out
to its finest proportions, and his bearing, as he stood before the
vast multitude, that of absolute dignity and power. His manuscript lay
on a small table near him, but I think he did not once refer to it. His
manner of speaking was deliberate and commanding. When he came to the
passage on eloquence, and to the words, ‘It is action, noble, sublime,
godlike action,’ he stamped his foot repeatedly on the stage, his form
seemed to dilate, and he stood, as that whole audience saw and felt,
the personification of what he so perfectly described. I never saw him
when his manner was so grand and appropriate.
“The two speeches attributed to Mr. Adams and his opponent attracted
great attention from the first. Soon they were put into school-books,
as specimens of English, and of eloquence. In time men began to
believe they were genuine speeches, made by genuine men who were in
the Congress of ’76; and at last Mr. Webster received letters asking
whether such was the fact or not. In January, 1846, he sent me from
Washington a letter he had just received, dated at Auburn, begging him
to solve the doubt. With it he sent me his answer, which is published
in his works, saying: ‘The accompanying letter and copy of answer
respect a question which has been often asked me. I place them in your
hands, to serve if similar inquiries should be made of you.’ Two months
after, in March of the same year, he sent me a letter from Bangor, in
Maine, asking the same question, beginning the note which accompanied
it with these words: ‘Here comes another; I cannot possibly answer
all of them, one after another.’ Indeed he continued to receive such
letters until the edition of his works was published in 1851, though
the matter was repeatedly discussed and explained in the newspapers.
The fact is, that the speech he wrote for John Adams has such an air
of truth and reality about it, that only a genius like Mr. Webster,
perfectly familiar with whatever relates to the Revolution, and indeed
with its spirit, could have written it.”
There is hardly a schoolboy who reads this book who has not declaimed
his famous speech, beginning, ‘Sink or swim, live or die, survive
or perish, I give my hand and my heart to this vote.’ It is hard to
believe that this noble and impressive speech, so true to the sturdy
character of Mr. Adams, and so appropriate to the occasion, was written
by Mr. Webster one morning, before breakfast, in his library. It is
also surprising that the orator was not certain whether it really had
merit or not, and read it to Mr. Ticknor for his opinion.
Though parts of this speech are familiar, I shall nevertheless conclude
my chapter with the exordium, since it will be read with fresh interest
in this connection.
“This is an unaccustomed spectacle. For the first time, fellow
citizens, badges of mourning shroud the columns and overhang the arches
of this hall. These walls, which were consecrated so long ago to the
cause of American liberty, which witnessed her infant struggles, and
rang with the shouts of her earliest victories, proclaim now that
distinguished friends and champions of that great cause have fallen. It
is right that it should be thus. The tears which flow and the honors
which are paid when the founders of the republic die give hope that the
republic itself may be immortal. It is fit that by public assembly and
solemn observance, by anthem and by eulogy, we commemorate the services
of national benefactors, extol their virtues, and render thanks to God
for eminent blessings, early given and long continued, to our favored
country.
“Adams and Jefferson are no more, and we are assembled, fellow
citizens, the aged, the middle-aged, and the young, by the spontaneous
impulse of all, under the authority of the municipal government,
with the presence of the chief magistrate of the commonwealth and
others, its official representatives, the university, and the learned
societies, to bear our part in the manifestations of respect and
gratitude which universally pervade the land. Adams and Jefferson
are no more. On our fiftieth anniversary, the great day of national
jubilee, in the very hour of public rejoicing, in the midst of echoing
and re-echoing voices of thanksgiving, while their own names were on
all tongues, they took their flight together to the world of spirits.
“If it be true that no one can safely be pronounced happy while he
lives, if that event which terminates life can alone crown its honor
and its glory, what felicity is here! The great epic of their lives how
happily concluded! Poetry itself has hardly closed illustrious lives
and finished the career of earthly renown by such a consummation. If
we had the power, we could not wish to reverse this dispensation of
Divine Providence. The great objects of life were accomplished, the
drama was ready to be closed. It has closed; our patriots have fallen;
but so fallen, at such age, with such coincidence, on such a day, that
we cannot rationally lament that that end has come, which we know could
not long be deferred.
“Neither of these great men, fellow citizens, could have died at any
time without leaving an immense void in our American society. They have
been so intimately, and for so long a time, blended with the history of
the country, and especially so united in our thoughts and recollections
with the events of the Revolution, that the death of either would have
touched the strings of public sympathy. We should have felt that one
great link connecting us with former times was broken; that we had
lost something more, as it were, of the presence of the Revolution
itself and of the Act of Independence, and were driven on by another
great remove from the days of our country’s early distinction, to meet
posterity and to mix with the future. Like the mariner, whom the ocean
and the winds carry along, till he sees the stars which have directed
his course and lighted his pathless way descend one by one beneath the
rising horizon, we should have felt that the stream of time had borne
us onward till another great luminary, whose light had cheered us and
whose guidance we had followed, had sunk from our sight.
“But the concurrence of their death on the anniversary of independence
has naturally awakened stronger emotions. Both had been presidents,
both were early patriots, and both were distinguished and ever honored
by their immediate agency in the act of independence. It cannot but
seem striking and extraordinary that these two should live to see the
fiftieth year from the date of that act; that they should complete
that year; and that then, on the day which had just linked forever
their own fame with their country’s glory, the heavens should open to
receive them both at once. As their lives themselves were the gifts of
Providence, who is not willing to recognize in their happy termination,
as well as in their long continuance, proofs that our country and its
benefactors are objects of His care?”
Towards the close of the oration we find a striking passage familiar to
many, and justly admired, touching the duties which devolve upon the
favored citizens of the United States.
“This lovely land, this glorious liberty, these benign institutions,
the dear purchase of our fathers, are ours; ours to enjoy, ours to
preserve, ours to transmit. Generations past and generations to come
hold us responsible for this sacred trust. Our fathers from behind
admonish us with their anxious paternal voices; posterity calls out to
us from the bosom of the future; the world turns hither its solicitous
eyes; all, all conjure us to act wisely and faithfully in the relation
which we sustain.
“We can never, indeed, pay the debt which is upon us; but, by virtue,
by morality, by religion, by the cultivation of every good principle
and every good habit, we may hope to enjoy the blessing through our
day, and to leave it unimpaired to our children. Let us feel deeply how
much of what we are, and of what we possess, we owe to this liberty,
and to these institutions of government. Nature has indeed given us a
soil which yields bounteously to the hands of industry, the mighty and
fruitful ocean is before us, and the skies over our heads shed health
and vigor. But what are lands, and skies, and seas to civilized man,
without society, without knowledge, without morals, without religious
culture? and how can these be enjoyed, in all their extent and all
their excellence, but under the protection of wise institutions and a
free government? Fellow citizens, there is not one of us, there is not
one of us here present, who does not at this moment, and every moment,
experience in his own condition, and in the condition of those most
near and dear to him, the influence and the benefits of this liberty
and these institutions. Let us then acknowledge the blessing, let
us feel it deeply and powerfully, let us cherish a strong affection
for it, and resolve to maintain and perpetuate it. The blood of
our fathers, let it not have been shed in vain; the great hope of
posterity, let it not be blasted!”
It has been said with truth that no funeral oration has ever been
pronounced, in any age, and in any language, which exceeds this in
eloquence and simple grandeur. Happy the country that possesses two
citizens of whom such praises can be uttered, and happy the nation
that can find an orator of such transcendent genius to pronounce their
eulogies!