Society and solitude: Twelve chapters
examples of dignity and wisdom. I have lately found in an old note-book
a record of a visit to ex-President John Adams, in 1825, soon after the
election of his son to the Presidency. It is but a sketch, and nothing
important passed in the conversation; but it reports a moment in the
life of a heroic person, who, in extreme old age, appeared still erect
and worthy of his fame.
_----, Feb., 1825._ To-day, at Quincy, with my brother, by
invitation of Mr. Adams’s family. The old President sat in a large
stuffed arm-chair, dressed in a blue coat, black small-clothes,
white stockings; a cotton cap covered his bald head. We made our
compliment, told him he must let us join our congratulations to those
of the nation on the happiness of his house. He thanked us, and said:
“I am rejoiced, because the nation is happy. The time of gratulation
and congratulations is nearly over with me: I am astonished that I
have lived to see and know of this event. I have lived now nearly a
century; [he was ninety in the following October:] a long, harassed,
and distracted life.”--I said, “The world thinks a good deal of joy
has been mixed with it.”--“The world does not know,” he replied, “how
much toil, anxiety, and sorrow I have suffered.”--I asked if Mr.
Adams’s letter of acceptance had been read to him.--“Yes,” he said,
and, added, “My son has more political prudence than any man that
I know who has existed in my time; he never was put off his guard:
and I hope he will continue such; but what effect age may work in
diminishing the power of his mind, I do not know; it has been very
much on the stretch, ever since he was born. He has always been
laborious, child and man, from infancy.”--When Mr. J. Q. Adams’s age
was mentioned, he said, “He is now fifty-eight, or will be in July”;
and remarked that “all the Presidents were of the same age: General
Washington was about fifty-eight, and I was about fifty-eight, and
Mr. Jefferson, and Mr. Madison, and Mr. Monroe.”--We inquired when he
expected to see Mr. Adams.--He said: “Never: Mr. Adams will not come
to Quincy but to my funeral. It would be a great satisfaction to me
to see him, but I don’t wish him to come on my account.”--He spoke of
Mr. Lechmere, whom he “well remembered to have seen come down daily,
at a great age, to walk in the old town-house,”--adding, “And I wish
I could walk as well as he did. He was Collector of the Customs
for many years under the Royal Government.”--E. said: “I suppose,
sir, you would not have taken his place, even to walk as well as
he.”--“No,” he replied, “that was not what I wanted.”--He talked of
Whitefield, and “remembered when he was a Freshman in College, to
have come into town to the _Old South_ church, [I think,] to hear
him, but could not get into the house;--I however, saw him,” he said,
“through a window, and distinctly heard all. He had a voice such as
I never heard before or since. He cast it out so that you might hear
it at the meeting-house, [pointing towards the Quincy meeting-house,]
and he had the grace of a dancing-master, of an actor of plays.
His voice and manner helped him more than his sermons. I went with
Jonathan Sewall.”--“And you were pleased with him, sir?”--“Pleased!
I was delighted beyond measure.”--We asked if at Whitefield’s return
the same popularity continued.--“Not the same fury,” he said, “not
the same wild enthusiasm as before, but a greater esteem, as he
became more known. He did not terrify, but was admired.”
We spent about an hour in his room. He speaks very distinctly for so
old a man, enters bravely into long sentences, which are interrupted by
want of breath, but carries them invariably to a conclusion, without
correcting a word.
He spoke of the new novels of Cooper, and “Peep at the Pilgrims,”
and “Saratoga,” with praise, and named with accuracy the characters
in them. He likes to have a person always reading to him, or company
talking in his room, and is better the next day after having visitors
in his chamber from morning to night.
He received a premature report of his son’s election, on Sunday
afternoon, without any excitement, and told the reporter he had
been hoaxed, for it was not yet time for any news to arrive. The
informer, something damped in his heart, insisted on repairing to the
meeting-house, and proclaimed it aloud to the congregation, who were
so overjoyed that they rose in their seats and cheered thrice. The
Reverend Mr. Whitney dismissed them immediately.
* * * * *
When life has been well spent, age is a loss of what it can well
spare,--muscular strength, organic instincts, gross bulk, and works
that belong to these. But the central wisdom, which was old in infancy,
is young in fourscore years, and, dropping off obstructions, leaves in
happy subjects the mind purified and wise. I have heard that whoever
loves is in no condition old. I have heard, that, whenever the name of
man is spoken, the doctrine of immortality is announced; it cleaves
to his constitution. The mode of it baffles our wit, and no whisper
comes to us from the other side. But the inference from the working
of intellect, hiving knowledge, hiving skill,--at the end of life just
ready to be born,--affirms the inspirations of affection and of the
moral sentiment.
THE END.
Cambridge: Printed by Welch, Bigelow, and Company.
FOOTNOTES:
[A] Dr. Thomas Brown.
[B] Iliad, III. 191.
[C] Diary, I. 169.
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