At Rochester immense multitudes assembled to receive Mr. Adams. He was welcomed in an eloquent address from the Mayor of the city. The following are a few extracts from the reply of Mr. Adams:—
"Mr. Mayor and Fellow-citizens:—I fear you expect from me a speech. If it were in my power, oppressed as I am with mingled astonishment and gratitude at what I have experienced and now see of your kindness, to make a speech, I would gratify you with one adorned with all the chaste yet simple eloquence which are combined in the address to which you have just listened from your worthy Mayor. But it is not in my power. You may probably think there is some affectation on my part, in pretending inability to address you, knowing as many of you do, that I have often addressed assemblies like this. But I hope for greater indulgence from you than this. I trust you will consider that I have seen and spoken to multitudes like that now before me, but that these multitudes had frowning faces. Those I could meet, and to those I could speak. But to you, whose every face is expressive of generous affection—to you, in whose every countenance I see kindness and friendship—I cannot speak. It is too much for me. It overcomes my powers of speech. It is a new scene to me.
* * * * * *
"Amongst the sentiments which I have expressed, and the observations which I have made during my brief tour through this portion of your State, it was impossible for me to forego a constant comparison with what New York was in other days, and what it is now. I first set my feet upon the soil of the now Empire State, in 1785. I then visited the city of New York,—at that time a town of 18,000 inhabitants. I tarried, while in that city, at the house of John Jay—a man whom I name, and whom all will remember, as one of the most illustrious of the distinguished patriots who carried our beloved country through the dark period of the Revolution. Mr. Jay, the Secretary of Foreign Affairs, under the Congress of the Federation, was laying the foundation of a house in Broadway, but which was separated by the distance of a quarter of a mile from any other dwelling. At that time, being eighteen years of age, I received an invitation to visit western New York; and I have regretted often, but never more than now, that I had not accepted that invitation. Oh! what would I not have given to have seen this part of this great State then, that I might be able to contrast it with what it now is. * * * * *
"It has seemed to me as if in this region the God of nature intended to make a more sublime display of his power, than in any other portion of the world. He has done so in physical nature—in the majestic cataract, whose sound you can almost hear—in forest and in field—in the mind of man among you, In what has been accomplished to make your city what it is, the aged have done the most. The middle aged may say we will improve upon what has been done; and the young, we shall accomplish still more than our fathers. That, fellow-citizens, was the boast in the ancient Spartan procession—a procession which was divided into three classes—the old, the middle-aged, and the young. They had a saying which each class repeated in turn. The aged said—
'We have been, in days of old,Wise and gentle, brave and bold.'
The middle-aged said—
'We, in turn, your place supply;Who doubts it, let them come and try.'
And the boys said—
'Hereafter, at our country's call,We promise to surpass you all.'
And so it will be with you—each in your order."
At Auburn every possible token of respect was paid to the venerable statesman. A committee consisting of ex-Gov. Seward, Judge Conklin, Judge Miller, Luman Sherwood, P. H. Perry, S. A. Goodwin, James C. Wood, and J. L. Doty, Esqs., proceeded to Canandaigua to meet Mr. Adams. At half past nine o'clock in the evening, Mr. Adams, accompanied by the committee, arrived in Auburn. He was received by a torch-light procession, composed of the Auburn Guards, the Firemen, and an immense concourse of citizens, and conducted to the mansion of Gov. Seward, where he thus briefly addressed the people:—
"Fellow-citizens:—Notwithstanding the glow with which these brilliant torch-lights illuminate my welcome among you, I can only acknowledge your kindness, on this occasion, by assuring you that to-morrow morning, by the light of the blessed sun, I hope to take everyone of you by the hand, and express feelings too strong for immediate utterance."
On the following morning at six o'clock, Mr. Adams visited the State Prison, and made many inquiries concerning the discipline of the prison, and its success in the prevention of crime and reformation of offenders. At 9 o'clock he met the citizens in the First Presbyterian church, where he was addressed by Gov. Seward, as follows:—
"SIR:—I am charged with the very honorable and most agreeable duty, of expressing to you the reverence and affectionate esteem of my fellow-citizens, assembled in your presence.
"A change has come over the spirit of your journey, since your steps have turned towards your ancestral sea-side home. An excursion to invigorate health impaired by labors, too arduous for age, in the public councils, and expected to be quiet and contemplative, has become one of fatigue and excitement. Rumors of your advance escape before you, and a happy and grateful community rise up in their clustering cities, towns, and villages, impede your way with demonstrations of respect and kindness, and convert your unpretending journey into a triumphal progress. Such honors frequently attend public functionaries, and such an one may sometimes find it difficult to determine how much of the homage he receives is paid to his own worth, how much proceeds from the habitual reverence of good republican citizens to constituted elective authority, and how much from the spirit of venal adulation.
"You, sir, labor under no such embarrassment. The office you hold, though honorable, is purely legislative, and such as we can bestow by our immediate suffrage on one of ourselves. You conferred personal benefits sparingly when you held the patronage of the nation. That patronage you have relinquished, and can never regain. Your hands will be uplifted often, during your remaining days, to invoke blessings on your country, but never again to distribute honors or reward among your countrymen. The homage paid you, dear sir, is sincere, for it has its sources in the just sentiments and irrepressible affections of a free people, their love of truth, their admiration of wisdom, their reverence for virtue, and their gratitude for beneficence.
"Nor need you fear that enthusiasm exaggerates your title to the public regard. Your fellow-citizens, in spite of political prudence, could not avoid honoring you on grounds altogether irrespective of personal merit. John Adams, who has gone to receive the reward of the just, was one of the most efficient and illustrious founders of this Empire, and afterwards its Chief Ruler. The son of such a father would, in any other age, and even in this age, in any other country than this, have been entitled, by birth alone, to a sceptre. We not merely deny hereditary claims to civil trust, but regard even hereditary distinction with jealousy. And this circumstance enhances justly the estimate of your worth. For when before has it happened that in such a condition of society the son has, by mere civic achievement, attained the eminence of such a sire, and effaced remembrance of birth by justly acquired renown?
"The hand we now so eagerly grasp, was pressed in confidence and friendship by the Father of our Country. The wreath we place on your honored brow, received its earliest leaves from the hand of Washington. We cannot expect, with the agency of free and universal suffrage, to be always governed by the wise and the good. But surely your predecessors in the Chief Magistracy, were men such as never before successively wielded power in any State. They differed in policy as they must, and yet, throughout their several dynasties, without any sacrifice of personal independence, and while passing from immature youth to ripened age, you were counsellor and minister to them all. We seem therefore, in this interview with you, to come into the presence of our departed chiefs; the majestic shade of Washington looks down upon us; we hear the bold and manly eloquence of the elder Adams; and we listen to the voices of the philosophic and sagacious Jefferson, the refined and modest Madison, and the generous and faithful Monroe.
"A life of such eminent patriotism and fidelity found its proper reward in your elevation to the eminence from which you had justly derived so many honors. Although your administration of the government is yet too recent for impartial history, or unbounded eulogy, our grateful remembrance of it is evinced by the congratulations you now receive from your fellow-citizens.
"But your claims to the veneration of your countrymen do not end here. Your predecessors descended from the Chief Magistracy to enjoy, in repose and tranquillity, honors even greater than those which belonged to that eminent station. It was reserved for you to illustrate the important truths, that offices and trusts are not the end of public service, but are merely incidents in the life of the true American citizen; that duties remain when the highest trust is resigned; and that there is scope for a pure and benevolent ambition beyond even the Presidency of the United States of America.
"You have devoted the energies of a mind unperverted, the learning and experience acquired through more than sixty years, and even the influence and fame derived from your high career of public service, to the great cause of universal liberty. The praises we bestow are already echoed back to us by voices which come rich and full across the Atlantic, hailing you as the indefatigable champion of humanity—not the humanity which embraces a single race or clime, but that humanity which regards the whole family of MAN. Such salutations as these cannot be mistaken. They come not from your contemporaries, for they are gone—you are not of this generation, but of the PAST, spared to hear the voice of POSTERITY. The greetings you receive come up from the dark and uncertain FUTURE. They are the whisperings of posthumous FAME—fame which impatiently awaits your departure, and which, spreading wider and growing more and more distinct, will award to JOHN QUINCY ADAMS a name to live with that of WASHINGTON!"
The audience expressed their sympathy with this address by long and enthusiastic cheering. When order was restored, Mr. Adams rose, evidently under great and unaffected embarrassment.
He replied to the speech in an address of about half an hour, during which the attention of his audience was riveted upon the speaker, with intense interest and affection. He declared the embarrassment he felt in speaking. He was sensible that his fellow-citizens had laid aside all partizan feelings in coming up to greet him. He desired to speak what would not wound the feelings of anyone. He was grateful, deeply grateful, to them all. But on what subject of public interest could a public man speak, that would find harmony among an intelligent, thinking people? There were such subjects, but he could not speak of them.
The people of Western New York had always been eminently just and generous to him, and had recently proved their kindness on various occasions, by inviting him to address the State Agricultural Society on agriculture. But his life had been spent in the closet, in diplomacy, or in the cabinet; and he had not learned the practice, or even the theory of agriculture. After what he had seen of the harvests of Western New York, bursting with food for the sustenance of man, for him to address the people of such a district on agriculture, would be as absurd as the vanity of the rhetorician who went to Carthage to instruct Hannibal in the art of war. He had been solicited to address the young. In his life time he had been an instructor of youth, and, strange as from his present display they might think it, he had instructed them in the art of eloquence. And there was no more honorable office on earth than instructing the young. But the schools and seminaries had passed him, while he was engaged in other pursuits; and for him now to attempt to instruct the young of this generation, would evince only the garrulousness of age.
He had been invited to discourse on internal improvement; but that was a subject he feared to touch. On one point, however, all men agreed. All were in favor of internal improvement. But there was a balance between the reasonable sacrifices of this generation, and the burden it had a right to cast upon posterity, and every individual might justly claim to hold his balance for himself. One thing, however, he was sure he might assume with safety. In looking over the State of New York, upon its canals and railroads, which brought the borders of the State into contiguity, and its citizens in every part into communion with each other, he was sure that all rejoiced, and might well glory in what had been accomplished.
Mr. A. said he had read and endeavored to inform himself concerning prison discipline, a subject deeply interesting to the peace, good order, and welfare of society; but after his examination of the penitentiary here, he was satisfied that he was yet a learner, instead of being able to give instruction on that important subject.
He had been asked to enlist in the growing army of temperance, and discourse on that cause, so deeply cherished by every well wisher of our country. And he would cheerfully speak; but other and more devoted men had occupied the field, and what was left for him to say on temperance? In passing through Catholic Lower Canada he saw a column erected to the Virgin Mary, in gratitude for her promotion of the temperance cause. If indeed the blessed Virgin did lend her aid to that great work, it would almost win him to worship at her shrine, although he belonged to that class of people who rejected the invocation of saints.
He felt, therefore, that he had no subject on which to address them, but himself and his own public life. The experience of an old man, related by himself, would, he feared, be more irksome than profitable.
"What, then, am I to say? I am summoned here to speak, and to reply to what has been said to me by my respected friend, your late Chief Magistrate. And what is the theme he has given me? It is myself. And what can I say on such a subject? To know that he entertains, or that you entertain for me the sentiments he has expressed, absolutely overpowers me. I cannot go on. The only answer I can make, is a declaration, that during my public service, now protracted to nearly the age of eighty, I have endeavored to serve my country honestly and faithfully. How imperfectly I have done this, none seem so sensible as myself. I must stop. I can only repeat thanks, thanks, thanks to you, one and all, and implore the blessings of God upon you and your children."
At the conclusion of this reply, Mr. Adams was introduced to a large number of the ladies and gentlemen assembled in the church. He then returned to the American Hotel, where he remained an hour, receiving the visits of the citizens of the adjoining towns. At 11 o'clock the Auburn Guards escorted Mr. Adams and the committee, followed by a large procession, to the car-house. Accompanied by Gov. Seward, Judge Miller, Hon. Christopher Morgan, the committee, Auburn Guards, and a number of the citizens of Auburn, he was conveyed in an extra train of cars, in an hour and five minutes, to Syracuse.
At Syracuse, at Utica, at Albany, the same spontaneous outgushing manifestations of respect and affection met him that had hitherto attended his journey in every populous place through which he passed. In his reply to the address of Mr. Barnard, at Albany, he concluded in the following words:—
"Lingering as I am on the stage of public life, and, as many of you may think, lingering beyond the period when nature calls for repose—while I remain in the station which I now occupy in the Congress of the United States, if you, my hearers, as an assembly, or if anyone among you, as an individual, have any object or purpose to promote, or any end to secure that he believes can in any way advance his interests or increase his happiness, then, in the name of God, I ask you to send your petitions to me! (Tremendous cheering.) I hope this is not trespassing too far on politics. (Laughter, and cheers.) I unhesitatingly promise you, one and all, that if I can in any way serve you in that station, I will do it most cheerfully; regarding it as the choicest blessing of God, if I shall thus be enabled to make some just return for the kind attentions which you have this day bestowed upon me."
In his route homeward, Mr. Adams was received and entertained in a very handsome manner by the people of Pittsfield, Mass. He was addressed by Hon. George N. Briggs, who alluded, in eloquent terms, to his long and distinguished public services. Mr. Adams, in reply, spoke of the scenes amidst which he had passed his early youth, and of the influence which they exerted in forming his character and shaping his purposes. "In 1775," said he, "the minute men from a hundred towns in the province were marching, at a moment's warning, to the scene of opening war. Many of them called at my father's house in Quincy, and received the hospitality of John Adams. All were lodged in the house which the house would contain; others in the barns, and wherever they could find a place. There were then in my father's kitchen some dozen or two of pewter spoons; and I well recollect going into the kitchen and seeing some of the men engaged in running those spoons into bullets for the use of the troops! Do you wonder," said he, "that a boy of seven years of age, who witnessed this scene, should be a patriot?"
In the fall of the same year, Mr. Adams received an invitation from the Cincinnati Astronomical Society, to visit that city, and assist in the ceremony of laying the corner stone of an observatory, to be erected on an eminence called Mount Ida. The invitation was accepted. On his journey to Cincinnati, the same demonstrations of respect, the same eagerness to honor the aged patriarch were manifested in the various cities and towns through which he passed, as on his summer tour.
The ceremony of laying the corner stone took place on the 9th of November, 1843. Mr. Adams delivered an address on the occasion, replete with eloquence, wisdom, philosophy, and religion. The following beautiful extract will afford a specimen:—
"The various difficult, and, in many respects, opposite motives which have impelled mankind to the study of the stars, have had a singular effect in complicating and confounding the recommendation of the science. Religion, idolatry, superstition, curiosity, the thirst for knowledge, the passion for penetrating the secrets of nature, the warfare of the huntsman by night and by day against the beast of the forest and of the field, the meditations of the shepherd in the custody and wanderings of his flocks, the influence of the revolving seasons of the year, and the successive garniture of the firmament upon the labors of the husbandman, upon the seed time and the harvest, the blooming of flowers, the ripening of the vintage, the polar pilot of the navigator, and the mysterious magnet of the mariner—all, in harmonious action, stimulate the child of earth and of heaven to interrogate the dazzling splendors of the sky, to reveal to him the laws of their own existence.
"He has his own comforts, his own happiness, his own existence, identified with theirs. He sees the Creator in creation, and calls upon creation to declare the glory of the Creator. When Pythagoras, the philosopher of the Grecian schools, conceived that more than earthly idea of 'the music of the spheres'—when the great dramatist of nature could inspire the lips of his lover on the moonlight green with the beloved of his soul, to say to her:—
'Sit, Jessica.—Look how the floor of HeavenIs thick inlaid with pattens of bright gold!There's not the smallest orb which thou beholdest,But in his motion like an angel sings,Still choiring to the young eyed cherubim!'
"Oh, who is the one with a heart, but almost wishes to cast off this muddy vesture of decay, to be admitted to the joy of listening to the celestial harmony!"
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 joinThe innumerable caravan, that movesTo the pale realms of shade, where each shall takeHis chamber in the silent halls of death,Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night,Scourged to his dungeon; but, sustained, and soothedBy an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave,Like one who wraps the drapery of his couchAbout 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 ofRepresentatives:—
"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 ofJOHN QUINCY ADAMS be communicated to the family of the deceased by theClerk.
"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, theSenate will attend his funeral at the hour appointed by the House ofRepresentatives, and will wear the usual badge of mourning for thirtydays.
"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.