1767-1848 The contemplation of this man's career awakens a certain sadness in the observer; for in the grim integrity and resolute independence of his character, in the austerity and rigid industry of his life, in his strenuous exertions for the public welfare as he saw it, in his austere friendships, and many enmities, there is something pathetic; here was one who lived the best and truest life he knew of, who did nothing unworthy, and much that was of high value; who attained to many honors, including the presidency of his country; and who died in the capital where he had spent so much of his laborious life; and yet who seems to have missed something; some kindly human touch, some pleasure, or gentleness or relaxation which should belong to mortal man, and without which he loses the best that life has to bestow. Adams was as one who spends his whole life in armor, never doffing the heavy helmet and the burdensome steel cuirass, and hardly throwing aside the gauntlets; who, like the knights in Scott's "Lay of the Last Minstrel," must "Carved at the meal with gloves of steel, And drank the red wine through the helmet barred." There is no resting place in his life, and apparently no childhood or boyhood. He was the son of that fiery and indomitable Puritan, John Adams, and was destined by his father from his birth to the career of a statesman. We may imagine that John Adams was no indulgent father; he cared not to show his son the easy and pleasant side of existence; he made him feel that every waking moment should be devoted to virtue and politics. John was travelling with his father in Europe in his twelfth year, and in his thirteenth was attending Leyden University, merely as a preparation for his course at Harvard, where he graduated at the age of twenty-one, in 1788. Study of law followed; at twentyfour he was admitted to the bar; was soon appointed ambassador to the Hague by Washington, and concluded a commercial treaty with Prussia. He entered the Massachusetts Senate at thirty-five, and that of the United States at thirty-six, sitting with the Federalists, but presently breaking with them on the question of the embargo, which he supported. During the voluntary retirement from Congress which this act of independence occasioned, he taught rhetoric at Harvard for two years; then, against his father's advice this time, he accepted the ministry to Russia, and aided in the Treaty of Ghent. The ministry at London succeeded, and in 1817 he returned home to be Secretary of State in Monroe's Cabinet. By his diplomacy the acquisition of Florida was accomplished, and the limits of Louisiana defined. Then came the presidency, almost inevitable to such a man, yet the electoral college was tied, and the vote had to be given by the House. He was not satisfied with one term; but his effort to secure another was defeated, and he retired to private life. He was then sixty-two years old, and surely he had done enough. But in 1831 he returned to Congress as an independent member of the House, and there he worked and watched for eighteen years more. His death was due to a stroke of paralysis at the age of eighty-one. His speeches were himself in words; closely reasoned, fearless, clearcut, terse, and relentless. The "Oration at Plymouth" is an example of his most polished style of delivery. ORATION AT PLYMOUTH Delivered at Plymouth on December 22, 1802, in commemoration of the landing of the Pilgrims A MONG the sentiments of most powerful operation upon the human heart, and most highly honorable to the human character, are those of veneration for our forefathers, and of love for our posterity. They form the connecting links between the selfish and the social passions. By the fundamental principle of Christianity, the happiness of the individual is interwoven, by innumerable and imperceptible ties, with that of his contemporaries: by the power of filial reverence and parental affection, individual existence is extended beyond the limits of individual life, and the happiness of every age is chained in mutual dependence upon that of every other. Respect for his ancestors excites, in the breast of man, interest in their history, attachment to their characters, concern for their errors, involuntary pride in their virtues. Love for his posterity spurs him to exertion for their support, stimulates him to virtue for their example, and fills him with the tenderest solicitude for their welfare. Man, therefore, was not made for himself alone. No; he was made for his country, by the obligations of the social compact: he was made for his species, by the Christian duties of universal charity: he was made for all ages past, by the sentiment of reverence for his forefathers; and he was made for all future times, by the impulse of affection for his progeny. Under the influence of these principles, "Existence sees him spurn her bounded reign." They redeem his nature from the subjection of time and space: he is no longer a "puny insect shivering at a breeze"; he is the glory of creation, formed to occupy all time and all extent; bounded, during his residence upon earth, only by the boundaries of the world, and destined to life and immortality in brighter regions, when the fabric of nature itself shall dissolve and perish. The voice of history has not, in all its compass, a note but answers in unison with these sentiments. The barbarian chieftain, who defended his country against the Roman invasion, driven to the remotest extremity of Britain, and stimulating his followers to battle, by all that has power of persuasion upon the human heart, concludes his exhortation by an appeal to these irresistible feelings-" Think of your forefathers and of your posterity." The Romans themselves, at the pinnacle of civilization, were actuated by the same impressions, and celebrated, in anniversary festivals, every great event which had signalized the annals of their forefathers. To multiply instances, where it were impossible to adduce an exception, would be to waste your time and abuse your patience: but in the sacred volume, which contains the substance of our firmest faith and of our most precious hopes, these passions not only maintain their highest efficacy, but are sanctioned by the express injunctions of the Divine Legislator to his chosen people. The revolutions of time furnish no previous example of a nation shooting up to maturity and expanding into greatness, with the rapidity which has characterized the growth of the American people. In the luxuriance of youth, and in the vigor of manhood, it is pleasing and instructive to look backwards upon the helpless days of infancy; but in the continual and essential changes of a growing subject, the transactions of that early period would be soon obliterated from the memory, but for some periodical call of attention to aid the silent records of the historian. Such celebrations arouse and gratify the kindliest emotions of the bosom. They are faithful pledges of the respect we bear to the memory of our ancestors, and of the tenderness with which we cherish the rising generation. They introduce the sages and heroes of ages past to the notice and emulation of succeeding times: they are at once testimonials of our gratitude, and schools of virtue to our children. These sentiments are wise; they are honorable; they are virtuous; their cultivation is not merely innocent pleasure, it is incumbent duty. Obedient to their dictates, you, my fellow-citizens, have instituted and paid frequent observance to this annual solemnity. And what event of weightier intrinsic importance, or of more extensive consequences, was ever selected for this honorary distinction? |