Chapter XLIII: Conclusion: Of the CIVIL War (29)

Notwithstanding the altogether unfavorable reception of his History of England, which had now become a chief standard work, our author received a sum for the copyright, which, together with a pension he enjoyed through the influence of Lord Bute, had procured him not only independence but opulence. He therefore meditated passing the rest of his life in philosophical retirement, when, in 1763, he accepted an invitation to accompany the Earl of Hertford on his embassy to Paris, where his literary reputation obtained for him a reception, which, after the apathy of his own countrymen, astonished and delighted him. He remained at the French capital, in the situation of _charge d’affaires_, until the beginning of 1766, when he returned to England in company with the celebrated Rousseau, who is said to have repaid the delicate and generous behavior of our author with his usual ingratitude. In 1767, he was appointed under secretary of state to Mr. Conway, and after holding that situation for about two years, he returned to Edinburgh, in 1769, with a fortune of £1,000 a year. The next four years of his life were passed in the enjoyment of ease and reputation; the succeeding portion is best described towards the close of his autobiography, dated April 18th, 1776. ‘In spring 1775,’ he says, ‘I was struck with a disorder in my bowels, which at first gave me no alarm, but has since, as I apprehend it, become mortal and incurable. I now reckon upon a speedy dissolution. I have suffered very little pain from my disorder; and what is more strange, have, notwithstanding the great decline of my person, never suffered a moment’s abatement of my spirits; insomuch, that were I to name a period of my life, which I should most choose to pass over again, I might be tempted to point to this latter period. I possess the same ardor as ever in duty, and the same gayety in company. I consider, besides, that a man of sixty-five, by dying, cuts off only a few years of infirmities; and though I see many symptoms of my literary reputation’s breaking out at last with additional lustre, I know that I could have but a few years to enjoy it. It is difficult to be more detached from life than I am at present.’

After having finished the account of his life, he, at the request of his friends, went to England for the improvement of his health, but returned with no benefit, after a few weeks’ stay at London and Bath. He now employed himself in correcting his works for a new edition, and considering himself as a dying man, talked familiarly and even jocularly of his approaching dissolution. To one of his friends, who, struck by his cheerfulness, could not help expressing hopes of his recovery, he said, ‘Your hopes are groundless; I am dying as fast as my enemies, if I have any, could wish, and as easily and cheerfully as my best friends could desire.’ His weakness increased daily, until the afternoon of the 26th of August 1776, when he expired, says Dr. Black, ‘in such a happy composure of mind, that nothing could exceed it.’

Hume seemed to have formed a very just estimate of his own character: he describes himself as a man of mild disposition, of command of temper, of an open, social, and cheerful humor, capable of attachment, but little susceptible of enmity, and of great moderation in all his passions. This account of himself is fully corroborated by Dr. Adam Smith, who speaks of his social and intellectual qualities in the highest strain of eulogy: ‘Upon the whole,’ says the doctor, in his concluding remarks upon the death of Hume, ‘I have always considered him, both in his lifetime and since his death, as approaching as nearly to the idea of a perfectly wise and virtuous man, as, perhaps, the nature of human frailty will permit.’ Of this frailty he exhibited no inconsiderable portion in treating all systems of religion as founded in superstition; and, perhaps, there was a levity of conduct immediately preceding his death, which was beyond the dignity even of a philosopher, as it was certainly very opposite to the unpretending resignation of a dying Christian. His person had no affinity to his mind; his face was broad and flat, his mouth wide, his eyes vacant, and the corpulency of his whole person is said to have been better fitted to communicate the idea of a turtle-eating alderman, than of a refined philosopher. At Turin he fell in love with a lady, and addressing her, declared that he was “_abime aneanti_.” “Oh! pour aneanti,” replied the lady, “ce n’est en effet qu’une operation très naturelle de votre systême.”

In his intellectual character he takes his place in the first rank of modern philosophical sceptics, and it must be confessed that few writers have insisted on their theories with more vigor, self-command, or ability. The merit of his History of England is now generally allowed, though notwithstanding his own claim to perfect impartiality, prejudices, particularly in favor of the House of Stuart, appear in his work, and he has been accused of coloring facts to support his favorite and somewhat erroneous position that the English constitution cannot be considered as a regular plan of liberty before the reigns of the first two Stuarts. Upon the whole, however, few historians are more free from prejudice than Hume; nor is he often excelled in the clearness and eloquence of his style. About seven years after his death appeared an Essay on Suicide, generally believed to have been the production of his pen, and which, it is said, would have appeared in his lifetime, had not the booksellers been afraid to publish it.

An anecdote of Hume is told in one of Dr. Beattie’s letters to Mrs. Montague, which shows that however sincere a sceptic our author may have been, he admitted the propagation of his opinions might be destructive to the morals, if not the happiness, of at least one half of the intellectual world. ‘Mr. Hume,’ says Beattie, ‘was boasting to Dr. Gregory, that among his disciples in Edinburg, he had the honor to reckon many of the fair sex. “Now tell me,” said the doctor, “whether if you had a wife or a daughter, you would _wish_ them to be your disciples? Think well before you answer me; for, I assure you, that, whatever your answer is, I will not conceal it.” Mr. Hume, with a smile, and some hesitation, made this reply: “No; I believe scepticism may be too sturdy a virtue for a woman.”’ At another time, Mrs. Mallet, wife of the poet, meeting him at an assembly, boldly accosted him in these words: ‘Mr. Hume, give me leave to introduce myself to you; we Deists ought to know each other.’ ‘Madam,’ replied he, ‘I am no Deist; I do not style myself so; neither do I desire to be known by that appellation.’

ALEXANDER POPE.

Alexander Pope was born in Lombard Street, London, of Roman Catholic parents, on the 22d of May, 1688. He was according to Johnson, more willing to show what his father was not, than what he was; but his principal biographers make him the son of a linen-draper, who had grown rich enough to retire from business to Binfield, near Windsor. Alexander was deformed from his birth, and of so delicate a constitution, and such weakness of body, that he constantly wore stays; and when taking the air on the water, had a sedan-chair in the boat, in which he sat with the glasses down. He received the early part of his education at home, and, when about eight, was placed under the care of one Taverner, a Romish priest, who taught him the rudiments of Latin and Greek. His taste for poetry was first excited by the perusal of Ogilby’s Homer and Sandy’s Ovid; and, on his removal to school at Twyford, near Winchester, he exercised his talents in verse, by lampooning the master. He was next sent to a school in the vicinity of Hyde Park Corner, whence his occasional visits to the play-house induced such a fondness for theatrical exhibitions, that he composed a play from Ogilby’s Iliad, with some verses of his own intermixed, which was acted by his schoolfellows.

About twelve years of age, when he wrote his earliest production, The Ode of Solitude, he was called by his father to Binfield, where he improved himself by translating into verse the Latin classics, and in reading the English poets. The versification of Dryden particularly struck him, and he conceived such a veneration for the genius of that poet, that he persuaded some friends to take him to the coffeehouse which he frequented, and pleased himself with having seen him. As early as 1702, he had put into more elegant verse Chaucer’s January and May, and The Prologue to the Wife of Bath; and in the same year, he translated the epistle of Sappho to Phaon, from Ovid. At this time, the smoothness of his versification, which might be said to be formed, surpassed his original; ‘but this,’ says Johnson, ‘is a small part of his praise; he discovered such acquaintance both with human and public affairs, as is not easily conceived to have been attainable by a boy of fourteen, in Windsor Forest.’

In 1703, he passed some time in London, in the study of the French and Italian languages; and on his return to Binfield, wrote a comedy, a tragedy, or epic poem, with panegyrics on all the princes of Europe, and, as he confesses, ‘thought himself the greatest genius that ever was.’ Many of the productions upon which he founded this idea of himself, he subsequently destroyed; nor is it from an earlier period than 1705, that his life, as an author, is properly computed. In that year, he wrote his Pastorals, which, together with the very elegant and learned preface, received the praise of all the poets and the critics of the time; to whose society he, in the following year, more particularly introduced himself, by attending Will’s Coffee-house, in London, where most of them used to assemble. His pastorals did not appear until 1709, and in the same year he wrote, and in 1711 published, his Essay on Criticism, which he seems to have considered either so learned or so obscure, as to declare that ‘not one gentleman in sixty, even of a liberal education, could understand it.’ The piece was translated into French and German, and however overrated may have been the author’s estimation of it, has not been inadequately praised by Johnson, who observes that it displayed extent of comprehension, nicety of distinction, acquaintance with mankind, and knowledge both of ancient and modern learning, not often attained by the maturest age and longest experience. The essay, however, was not without opponents, and was attacked in a bitter and elaborate pamphlet, by Dennis, in consequence of some lines applied to him by Pope, whom he designated as ‘a little affected hypocrite, who had nothing in his mouth at the same time but truth, candor, friendship, good-nature, humanity and magnanimity.’ In this year, he also wrote his Messiah, first published in The Spectator, and his verses on the Unfortunate Lady, who, we are told by Ruffhead, having been removed by her guardian into a foreign country to avoid the addresses of Pope, put an end to her life by stabbing herself with a sword.

His next production was The Rape of the Lock, which is considered the most airy, the most ingenious, and the most delightful of all his compositions. The origin of it is too well known to need repetition here; but it is doubtful, as generally asserted, whether it had the effect of reconciling the parties whose conduct gave rise to the subject. On its first appearance, Addison called it a delicious little thing, and urged Pope not to alter it: he was, however, too confident of improving it to follow this advice, and considerably altered, and added to, the poem. ‘His attempt,’ says Johnson, ‘was justified by its success: The Rape of the Lock stands forward in the classes of literature as the most exquisite example of ludicrous poetry.’ In 1712, he published The Temple of Fame, and, about the same period, his Eloise to Abelard; to the composition of which he was led, according to Savage, by the perusal of Prior’s Nut-brown Maid. In 1713, appeared his Windsor Forest, the conclusion of which is said to have given pain to Addison, both as a poet and politician; but this is doubted by Johnson, who, in proof of the apparant friendship that continued to exist between the two poets, refers to the prologue of Cato, written by Pope, and also to a defense of that tragedy against the attacks of Dennis. About this time, the subject of our memoir is said to have studied painting under Jervis, and to have made progress enough to take the portraits of several of his friends.

He now turned his attention to the completion of his Iliad, which he offered to subscribers in six quarto volumes, for six guineas. The subscription soon rose to an amount that, while it gratified, at the same time alarmed him, when he thought of the extent of his undertaking; which, he says, disturbed him in his dreams at night, and made him wish that somebody would hang him. It was also given out, by some of his enemies, that he was deficient in Greek; and Addison, who does certainly, in this instance, seem to have been jealous of the fame of Pope, hinted to the Whigs, with a view to impede the subscription, that he was too much of a Tory; whilst this suspected him to be of the other party, in consequence of his contributions to Steele’s Guardian. His genius, however, carried him above all difficulties; and at the rate of about fifty lines per day, he soon completed the whole of the volumes, though his repeated alterations delayed the appearance of the sixth until 1720. The clear profit which he gained by this work amounted to £5,324 4_s._; a sum that relieved him from his present pecuniary difficulties, and enabled him to secure himself against future ones, by the purchase of considerable annuities.

The Iliad, which is described by the author’s biographer already mentioned, as not only one of the noblest versions of English poetry ever seen by the world, but, as one of the greatest events in the annals of learning, was a source of much annoyance to Pope, both during its progress and after its completion. Whilst it failed to gain him a patron, it also lost him a friend; the coldness of Addison he returned with indignation, and the overtures of Lord Halifax with indifference and contempt. He had taken umbrage at the conduct of the former, in endeavoring to create a rivalry between his translation of Homer and Tickall’s; the appearance of which, at the same time with his own, he had good reasons for attributing to the instrumentality of Addison. A reconciliation between them was afterwards attempted to be brought about, by Steele; but the interview only increased their mutual dislike, which continued to the end of their lives. Another reason assigned for Pope’s quarrel with Addison, is, that he had given one Gildon ten guineas to abuse the former in a letter, which was published respecting Wycherley. ‘On hearing of which,’ says Pope, ‘I wrote a letter to Mr. Addison, to let him know that I was not unacquainted with this behavior of his; that if I were to speak severely of him in return for it, it should not be in such a dirty way; that I should rather tell him myself fairly of his faults, and allow his good qualities; and that it should be something in the following manner. I then adjoined the first sketch of what has since been called my satire on Addison,――the character of Atticus.’ Our author’s contempt for Lord Halifax arose from that nobleman’s delay in the bestowal of his patronage, until he had secured some compliment, in the way of dedication or otherwise, which the poet was not over anxious to render. ‘They, probably,’ says Johnson, ‘were suspicious of each other: Pope would not dedicate till he saw at what rate his praise was valued; Halifax thought himself entitled to confidence, and would give nothing unless he knew what he should receive.’

Pope had removed to his celebrated villa, at Twickenham, in the year 1715, when the first volume of his Iliad was published, from which time he generally continued to reside there. In 1717, he collected his former works into one quarto volume; and in 1720, partaking of the national infatuation, he lost a slight sum of money in the South Sea stock. In 1721, he was induced, by a reward of £217 12_s._, to give his name and labors to an edition of Shakspeare, in which his various errors were detected and exposed with all the insolence of victory, by Theobald, in a book called, Shakspeare Restored. From this time, says Johnson, Pope became an enemy to editors, collators, and verbal critics; and hoped to persuade the world that he miscarried in this undertaking only by having a mind too great for such minute employments. The same authority tells us that, in 1723, he appeared as a witness on the trial of Bishop Atterbury, and that, in the few words he had to utter, he made several blunders. In 1725, appeared his translation of the Odyssey, in which he was assisted by Broome and Fenton; the former of whom he is said to have treated with great illiberality. About the year 1726, he had the misfortune to be overturned in the water whilst passing a bridge in a friend’s coach, by which he narrowly escaped drowning, and lost the use of two of his fingers from the breaking of the windows. Upon this occasion he received a letter of consolation from Voltaire, whom he had previously entertained at this table, where he is said to have talked with so much grossness, that Pope was driven from the room.

In 1727, he joined with Swift in the publication of three volumes of Miscellanies, wherein was inserted his Art of Sinking in Poetry; and in the following year appeared his Dunciad, a general attack against all the inferior authors of his time, whom he distinguished by the appellation of The Dunces. ‘On the day the book was first vended,’ says Pope, ‘a crowd of authors besieged the shop; entreaties, advices, threats of law and battery, nay, cries of treason, were all employed to hinder the coming out of the Dunciad.’ The poem excited a great sensation in all quarters, and was presented to the king and queen by Sir Robert Walpole. It is said to have blasted the literary reputation of all those whom it touched, and to have driven many of them to such an extent of hatred against the author, that they held weekly clubs to consider how they might injure him, and brought his image in clay for the purpose of executing him in effigy. In 1731, he published a poem on Taste, by which he incurred the odium of all parties, in consequence of ridiculing, under the name of Timon, his former friend and patron, the Duke of Chandos; to whom he wrote an explanatory letter, as full of hypocrisy as his verses were of ingratitude. In 1733, he published anonymously, the first, and in 1735, under his own name, the fourth part of his Essay on Man; the idea of which he acknowledges to have received from Bolingbroke, who is said to have ridiculed Pope as having advanced in it principles of which he did not perceive the consequence, and as blindly propagating opinions contrary to his own. Pope certainly appears to more advantage as a poet than a theologist in this production; which was on its translation into French, attacked with great skill by Professor Crousaz, of Switzerland, who discovered that many of the positions contained inferences against the doctrines of revelation. Warburton, however, defended the essay, in a manner that ever afterwards secured him the gratitude and friendship of Pope, who took the opportunity of acknowledging that he had not explained his own meaning properly, and of disclaiming any intention to propagate the principles of Bolingbroke.

His next poems in succession, were An Epistle to lord Bathurst, the Characters of Men and of Women, several imitations of Horace, Dr. Donne’s Satires, and an Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. In 1737, he published, by subscription, a quarto volume of his Correspondence; for the previous publication of which, by Curill, whom he had prosecuted in the house of lords, he accounts, in his preface, by saying that his letters had been stolen from a friend’s library, and thence sent privately to the press. There is, however, good reason to believe that they were printed with his own connivance, in order to give him an opportunity of subsequently publishing them himself, without incurring the imputation of vanity. In 1738, at which time he was visited by the Prince of Wales, and was of the opposition party, he published two Satirical Dialogues, in which he attacked several statesmen, but with a view rather of displaying his powers as a satirist than his sentiments as a patriot. These works were followed, in 1742, by a fourth book of The Dunciad, which brought on a paper war between himself and Cibber; his attack against whom he repeated, in a new edition of that work, in a strain of virulence that contributed more to the amusement of his readers than to his own reputation. From this time his vital powers gradually declined; he gave over original composition, and passed his time in the correction and revisal of his former works, and in social intercourse with his intimate friends, the chief of whom appear to have been Warburton and lord Bolingbroke. An asthma, with which he had been for some years affected, now terminating in a dropsy, his end visibly approached; he met it with resignation and calmness; and after having taken the sacrament, and exclaimed, a short time previously to death, ‘there is nothing meritorious but friendship and virtue!’ he expired, on the 30th of May, 1744, so placidly that the attendants did not ascertain the exact time of his dissolution. He was interred at Twickenham, where a monument was erected to him by Warburton, to whom he lelft half his library and the copyright of such of his works already printed as were not otherwise disposed of.

The character of Pope has been differently estimated by his biographers, Warburton, Bowles, Warton and Johnson. The last seems to have treated it in the most impartial manner; but his view of it is too diffuse and incongruous to be altogether satisfactory. Upon the whole Pope seems to have been more deserving of praise than he is represented; he has been considered exclusively in his literary character to have had justice done to him as a man. His reputation even as a poet, in the complete sense of the word, has been a subject of dispute with many; but it is idle to deny him a title to which none have so zealously, if so successfully, aspired. It is not to be denied that, upon the ground-work of others, he has raised some of his most beautiful superstructures; but from whatever sources he may have drawn his ideas, he has transferred them immortally to his own verses, by the manner in which he there enshrined them. His Iliad will probably continue to supersede all other translations; whilst the exquisite machinery of the sylphs in The Rape of the Lock, and the vigorous animation and pathetic tenderness pervading his Verses on the Unfortunate Lady, evince an original genius which may successfully challenge competition: His avowed model was Dryden; between whom and himself, Johnson, in drawing an elaborate comparison, says, that where the one delights the other astonishes; that Dryden is sometimes vehement and rapid,――Pope always smooth, uniform, and gentle. His conclusion seems to be that the former wrote the brighter paragraphs, the latter the better poems. ‘Pope,’ he observes, ‘had perhaps the judgment of Dryden; but Dryden certainly wanted the diligence of Pope.’ His Ode to St. Cecelia’s Day, the same authority thinks inferior to Dryden’s, but his Epistle of Eloise to Abelard he ranks as one of the most happy productions of human wit. For seductive eloquence and splendor of imagery, his Essay on Man is unequaled; but stripped of their ornaments, the sentiments will be found commonplaces and the diction bombastic. His epistolary writings, composed, doubtless, with a view to publication, attest the care and elegance of his pen, but are too full of that affectation and ambition, with which he himself confesses his early letters to have been vitiated.

Vanity and affectation were principal features in the character of Pope; like Byron, he pretended a hatred of the world, whilst his highest pleasure consisted in pleasing those who lived in it; and his egotism is sufficiently manifest in the contempt with which he treated all excellence in others that had not some affinity with his own. One of his boasts was, that he never obtained the notice of one titled acquaintance by adulation or servility; and Johnson, in confirming this, says, that he never flattered those whom he did not love or praised those whom he did not esteem. An exception to this, however, appears in his conduct towards Lord Hervey and Lady Wortley Montagu, in a memoir of whom he will be found apologizing in a strain of meanness and hypocrisy commensurate with the grossness and vindictiveness of his previous abuse. But though sometimes violent in his attacks and mean in his retreat, he was warm and constant in his friendships; and his social qualities, says Johnson, exhibit a perpetual and unclouded effulgence of general benevolence. Though his fortune was far from splendid, he assisted Dodsley with £100 to open a shop, and of the subscription of £40 a-year that he raised for Savage, £20 were paid by himself.

In his domestic concerns, he was frugal almost to parsimoniousness; in proof of which, it is said, that he used to write his compositions on the backs of letters; and after a scanty entertainment to two of his guests, would place a single pint of wine, with two small glasses, upon the table, and say, ‘Gentlemen, I leave you to your wine.’ He, however, would sometimes give a splendid dinner to a party of his friends, and is said himself to have been so great an epicure, that his heart was often won by a present of some luxury for his table. He used constantly to call for coffee in the night, when it is not probable he took much sleep, if the story of Lord Oxford’s domestic be true, that she was called from her bed, by him, four times in one night, to supply him with paper, lest he should lose a thought. He did not excel in conversation; and it was said no merriment of others, or of his own, excited him to laughter. There appears to have been a certain littleness and artifice in his intercourse with mankind, particularly with regard to trifles, which made Lady Bolingbroke say that ‘he played the politician about cabbages and turnips.’ In his person, he was so much beneath the middle stature, that, to bring him to a level with common tables, it was necessary to raise his seat; his countenance was, upon the whole, prepossessing, and his eyes were animated and expressive. His physical debility continued throughout his life; to conceal the tenuity of his legs, he wore three pairs of stockings; and being unable to dress or undress himself, could neither retire to rest, nor rise, without assistance.

An important feature in his private history, is his intimacy with Martha Blount, the daughter of a Catholic gentleman, near Reading, who is said to have been his intimate confidant and companion through life. She possessed great influence over him, and though she treated him with great neglect for some time previous to his death, he left her the greater part of his property. With this temporary exception, those to whom Pope was attached, remained his warm friends to the last; and Bolingbroke, who wept over him in his last illness, said, ‘I never knew in my life a man that had so tender a heart for his particular friends, or more general friendship for mankind.’ Having discovered, however, after the death of Pope, whom he had commissioned to procure a few impressions of his Patriot King, that he had ordered one thousand five hundred copies to be privately printed, Bolingbroke was so enraged at the transaction, that he exerted his utmost efforts to blast the memory of the man over whom he had so lately shed tears of affection and regret. For this artifice, of which the motive is not apparent, Warburton attempted to apologize; but in so unsatisfactory a manner, that it produced an answer, by Mallet, in A Letter to the most Impudent Man living.

We conclude our memoir of this paradoxical character, with the following anecdotes respecting him:――Lord Halifax having expressed himself dissatisfied with several passages in Pope’s translation of the Iliad, the latter observed to Garth, that, as he could not see where any alteration could be made for the better, his lordship’s observation had laid him under some difficulty. ‘All that you need do,’ said Garth, laughing, ‘is to leave them just as they are; call on Lord Halifax two or three months hence, thank him for his kind observations on those passages, and then read them to him as altered.’ Pope followed his advice, waited on Lord Halifax some time after, said he hoped his lordship would find his objections to those passages removed, read them to him exactly as they were at first, and his lordship was extremely pleased with them, and cried out, ‘ay, now they are perfectly right; nothing can be better.’

On Pope’s receiving, at his house, the Prince of Wales, with the most dutiful expression of attachment, the former remarked, ‘how shall we reconcile your love to a prince with your professed indisposition to kings, since princes will be kings in time?’ ‘Sir,’ replied the poet, ‘I consider royalty under that noble and authorized type of the lion; while he is young, and before his nails are grown, he may be approached and caressed with safety and pleasure.’ During his last illness, a squabble happening between his two physicians, Dr. Burton and Dr. Thompson, who mutually charged each other with hastening the death of their patient by improper prescriptions, Pope silenced them by saying, ‘gentlemen, I only learn by your discourse that I am in a dangerous way; therefore all I now ask is, that the following epigram may be added, after my death, to the next edition of The Dunciad, by way of postscript――

Dunces rejoice, forgive all censures past,
The greatest dunce has kill’d your foe at last.

Pope, though some have attributed them to Young, is also said to have composed, on being asked for an extempore couplet, by lord Chesterfield, the following lines, with the pencil of that nobleman:――

Accept a miracle, instead of wit
See two dull lines with Stanhope’s pencil writ.

JOHN ADAMS.

John Adams, a distinguished patriot of the revolution, was born at Braintree, Massachusetts, October 19, 1735. The ancestors of Mr. A. had left England for the wilds of America, in order to enjoy their religious opinions unmolested. They were among the first settlers of Massachusetts, Henry Adams, the great-great-grandfather of John, and one of the original proprietors of the town of Braintree, having fled from England, with other Puritans, in the year 1630. Their condition was that of substantial yeomen, who possessed the fee simple of their lands, and maintained themselves and families by manual labor. Mr. A. having, when yet a boy, evinced great fondness for books, and readiness in learning, his father determined to give him a collegiate education, and placed him, in consequence, under the care of Mr. Marsh (who was afterwards the preceptor of the celebrated Josiah Quincy), that he might be prepared for entrance into the university of Cambridge. He remained in that institution until the year 1755, when he received his bachelor’s degree, and in 1758 that of master of arts. Whilst at college, he is said to have been distinguished by intense application, retentiveness of memory, acuteness of reasoning, boldness and originality of thought, strength of language, and an honesty of character which could neither assume nor tolerate disguise. After he had left college, he commenced the study of law, at Worcester, with colonel James Putnam, and, during the period he was so engaged, instructed pupils in the Latin and Greek languages, in order to be able to defray his expenses himself. Before proceeding farther, it may not be amiss to notice the posture of affairs in Massachusetts at that epoch. For a long time past, that province had been disturbed by almost unremitted contentions between its inhabitants and the parliament of Great Britain, on various important subjects. The English legislature had, in fact, nothing to do with the colonies, as all dominion acquired by conquest or discovery invariably accrued to the king. To him alone the emigrants paid allegiance and applied for protection, and, although parliament always affected to believe itself entitled to regulate their concerns, they received very little interruption from it in the exercise of the privilege granted them by the king of governing and legislating for themselves. In the course of time, however, parliament became jealous of the power, approaching to independence, which they enjoyed, and began to impose unconstitutional restraints upon their commerce, to violate their charters, and, in short, to treat them so arbitrarily, that their spirit was completely roused, and a vigorous resistance called forth. Massachusetts, especially, had become a theatre of perpetual struggle for power on the one side, and for freedom on the other. But it was hitherto only an intellectual warfare, no idea of a separation from the mother country having been entertained. In 1758, Mr. A. left the office of colonel Putnam, and entered that of Jeremiah Gridley, then attorney-general of the province, and of the highest eminence at the bar. Gridley had, some years previously, superintended also the legal studies of James Otis, and, proud of his two pupils, used often to say, that ‘he had raised two young eagles, who were, one day or other, to peck out his eyes.’ In 1759, Mr. A. was admitted, at his recommendation, a member of the bar of Suffolk. Mr. A. commenced the practice of his profession in that part of his native town now called _Quincy_, but first brought himself into notice by his defense of a prisoner in the county of Plymouth, from which time a sufficiency of lucrative business generally occupied his attention. In 1761, he was admitted to the degree of barrister at law, and shortly afterwards was placed in the possession of a small landed estate by his father’s decease. In February of this year, an incident occurred, which inflamed his enthusiasm in the cause of his country’s rights to the highest pitch. The British cabinet had long shown a desire to assert the sovereign authority of parliament over the colonies in all cases of taxation and internal policy; but the first evidence of its having determined to do so was an order in council, issued this year, enjoining the officers of the customs in Massachusetts Bay to execute the _acts of trade_, and make application for _writs of assistance_, to the supreme judicature of the province. These writs were a species of general search-warrants, authorizing those who were empowered to carry them into effect to enter all houses, warehouses, etc., for the purpose of discovering and seizing such goods as were not discharged from the taxes imposed upon them by the acts. The officers of the customs applied for them, in pursuance of their instructions, to the court at Salem, but the demand was refused, on account of doubts concerning their constitutionality. It was then determined to have the affair argued by counsel in Boston. Great alarm now pervaded the whole community. Mr. Otis was engaged, by the merchants of Salem and Boston, to oppose the concession of so formidable an instrument of arbitrary power. In order to do so with entire freedom, he resigned the lucrative station of advocate-general in the court of admiralty, which he then enjoyed. Of the masterly manner in which he performed his duty, Mr. A., who was present at the discussion, has transmitted a vivid account. ‘Otis,’ says he, ‘was a flame of fire! With a promptitude of classical allusion, a depth of research, a rapid summary of historical events and dates, a profusion of legal authorities, a prophetic glance of his eyes into futurity, and a rapid torrent of impetuous eloquence, he hurried away all before him. _American Independence was then and there born._’ He afterwards adds, ‘Every man of an immensely crowded audience appeared to me to go away, as I did, ready to take arms against writs of assistance.’ Speaking of this discourse on another occasion, he said, ‘that James Otis, then and there, first breathed into this nation the breath of life.’ In 1764, he married Abigail Smith, second daughter of the Rev. William Smith, of Weymouth, and grand-daughter of colonel Quincy, of Mount Wollaston, a lady every way worthy of her husband, endowed by nature with a countenance singularly noble and lovely, and with a mind whose fine powers were improved by an excellent education. Her ardor in the cause of her country was as elevated as his own, and her piety unaffected and exemplary. About a year afterwards, Mr. A. published in the Boston Gazette several pieces, under the title of ‘An Essay on Canon and Feudal Law,’ which were reprinted in London, in 1768, and called ‘A Dissertation on Canon and Feudal Law.’ It is, perhaps, not the smallest proof of its merit, that it was there attributed to Gridley, who at that time enjoyed the highest reputation for ability. The friends of the colonies in England termed it ‘one of the very best productions ever seen from North America.’ The name of the real author was afterwards divulged, in 1783, when it was published in Philadelphia, by Robert Bell, in a pamphlet form, with lord Sheffield’s observations on the commerce of the American States, and entitled ‘An Essay on Canon and Feudal Law, by John Adams, Esq.’ It seems to have been the principal object of the author to extinguish, as far as possible, the blind and almost superstitious veneration of his countrymen for the institutions of the parent country, by holding up to their abhorrence the principles of the canon and feudal law, and showing to them the conspiracy which existed between church and state, for the purpose of oppressing the people. He inculcates the sentiments of genuine liberty, as well as the necessity of correct information on the part of his fellow-citizens, in order that they might be prepared to assert and maintain their rights by force, if force should ever become necessary. It was indeed a work eminently calculated to excite the people of America to resist, at all hazards, any infringement of their liberties. In December, 1765, Mr. A. was engaged, as counsel with Mr. Gridley and Mr. Otis, to support, before the governor and council, a memorial presented to the former, from the town of Boston, praying that the courts, which had been closed on account of the opposition to the stamp act, might again be opened. Through their united exertions, the petition was successful. In the same year, he removed to Boston, where he continued in the practice of his profession on a very extensive scale. After he had resided there about two years, the crown officers of the province, thinking, perhaps, that his patriotism was not without its price, made him an offer, through Mr. Sewall (between whom and himself an intimate friendship subsisted, formed at the time when he was studying with colonel Putnam), of the office of advocate-general in the court of admiralty, the most lucrative post in the gift of the governor. This office also was one which conducted its incumbents directly to the highest provincial honors. He refused it, however, as he says in his preface to the late edition of _Novanglus_, ‘decidedly and peremptorily, though respectfully.’ In 1769, he was appointed chairman of the committee chosen by the town of Boston, for the purpose of drawing up instructions to their representatives, to resist the encroachments of the British government. His colleagues were R. Dana and Jos. Warren. At the time they were thus employed, the metropolis was invested by an armed force, both by sea and land, and the state-house surrounded by a military guard, with cannon pointed at the door. Large majorities of both houses of parliament had signified their approval of the measures adopted by the king; had promised him their support, and besought him to prosecute, _within the realm_, all those who had been guilty of treasonable acts, in Massachusetts, since the year 1767, in accordance with the decree of parliament of the 35th of Henry VIII. Nevertheless, the committee performed their task with undaunted firmness, and reported the instructions which, no doubt, contributed to produce the strong resolutions subsequently adopted by the legislature of Massachusetts. It was on account of these instructions and resolutions, that the _provincial_ garrison was withdrawn, by order of the governor, from the castle, and _regular troops_, in the pay of the crown, substituted. The instructions also formed one of the specific charges made against the colony by the committee of the lords of council for plantation affairs, to the lords of council, July 6, 1770.

A striking example of the firmness and uprightness of Mr. A. occurred during the course of that year. He had, hitherto, been very active in stimulating the people of his province to the strenuous maintenance of their rights, and had thereby aided in producing an excitement greater than he could have wished, and which he found it necessary to counteract. The people of Boston had become exasperated at the idea of a garrison placed in their city, and were extremely hostile to the soldiers composing it. These feelings led to an attack upon a party of them under the command of captain Preston, March 5. They fired on the assailants in self-defense, and killed several of them. The soldiers were immediately arraigned before the civil authority, and Mr. Adams, in conjunction with Josiah Quincy and Mr. Sampson S. Blowers, was requested to aid them upon their trial. Although the minds of the people were inflamed almost to madness, and the defense of the accused seemed to involve a certain loss of popularity, Mr. A. immediately undertook to act as their advocate. Mr. A. was no demagogue; he saw that the honor of his country was at stake, and he rejoiced, as has been well said, in the opportunity of showing to the world, that the cause of America did not depend upon a temporary excitement, which could stifle the voice of justice, but upon the sober, steady, persevering determination of the people to support their rights. The cause was conducted by him and his colleagues with great ability, and the soldiers were all acquitted save two, who were found guilty of manslaughter, received a slight branding as a punishment, and were then discharged. Scarcely any thing which occurred during the revolution confers more honor upon the national character, and did more service to the cause of America, than this triumph of justice. Mr. A. soon received a proof that the public confidence in him was not diminished, by his election, in May, 1770, to the legislature of his state, as one of the representatives of the town of Boston. His conduct in this new situation displayed the same patriotism, courage and hostility to the despotism of the mother country, by which he had always been distinguished. He took a prominent part in every public measure, and served on several committees, who reported some of the most important state papers of the time; among which were the address and protest to the governor against the removal of the general court from Boston to Cambridge. In Bradford’s History of Massachusetts, we find the following account of a controversy in which Mr. A. was engaged in the year 1773. ‘The ministerial regulation for paying the salary of the judges, which rendered them wholly dependent on the crown, was the occasion of a learned and able discussion in the public papers, by William Brattle, senior member of the council, and John Adams. The essays of the latter were written with great learning and ability, and had a happy effect in enlightening the public mind on a question of very great importance. It subjected him, indeed, to the displeasure of governor Hutchinson and the ministerial party; and at the next election in May, when chosen by the assembly into the council, the governor gave his negative to the choice. These essays were published in the Boston Gazette of February, 1773, under Mr. Adams’ proper signature, and would make a pamphlet of 50 or 60 pages.’ In 1774, he was again rejected by governor Gage, and soon afterwards he was appointed one of the committee of the town of Boston, who prepared the celebrated resolutions on the Boston port-bill. June 17, of this year, governor Gage, having dissolved the assembly, this body, before separating, passed a resolution to appoint a committee to meet other committees from other colonies, for the purpose of consulting upon their common interests, and, in consequence, Mr. Thomas Cushing, Mr. Samuel Adams, Mr. John Adams and Mr. Robert Treat Paine were elected to the first continental congress, which met at Philadelphia in the following September. Soon after Mr. A. was chosen, an incident occurred which gives an idea of his feelings on contemplating this great and daring national movement. His friend Sewall, who had taken the ministerial side in politics, and was at that time attorney-general of the province, hearing of his election, invited him to a morning walk, in the course of which he endeavored to dissuade him from his purpose of assuming the seat in congress to which he had been appointed. He told him that the determination of Great Britain to pursue her system was fixed; that her power was irresistible, and would involve him in destruction, as well as all his associates who persevered in opposition to her designs. ‘I know,’ replied he, ‘that Great Britain has determined on her system, and that very determination determines me on mine. You know that I have been constant and uniform in opposition to her designs. The die is now cast. I have passed the Rubicon. Sink or swum, live or die, survive or perish with my country, is my fixed, unalterable determination.’ On bidding him adieu, Mr. A. said to his friend, ‘I see we must part, and with a bleeding heart I say, I fear forever. But, you may depend upon it, this adieu is the sharpest thorn on which I ever set my foot.’ Mr. A. took his seat in congress, September 5, 1774, the first day of their session, and was soon chosen a member of some of the most important committees, such as that which drew up the statement of the rights of the colonies, and that which prepared the address to the king. He and his colleagues carried with them the character of being so thoroughly desirous of independence, that, before they arrived at Philadelphia, warning had been given to them, by many of the most respectable inhabitants of the Middle States, not to utter a word on that subject, as it was as unpopular as the stamp act itself. Almost all the delegates from the other colonies were impressed with the idea that England could be brought to terms, without resorting to a declaration of independence. Washington alone, of the Virginia delegation, was doubtful whether the measures adopted by congress would be efficacious in attaining the object for which they were designed. In one of his letters, Mr. A. says, that Richard Henry Lee used the following language to him, when they parted: ‘We shall infallibly carry all our points; you will be completely relieved; all the offensive acts will be repealed; the army and fleet will be recalled, and Britain will give up her foolish project.’ On his return to Massachusetts, he became engaged in a controversy with his friend Sewall, who was writing a series of essays under the appellation of _Massachusettensis_, for the purpose of vindicating the cause of the government party. Mr. A.’s papers were published in the Boston Gazette, with the signature of _Novanglus_, and exhibit the cause of America in the most triumphant and favorable light. When Mr. A. resumed his seat in congress the following year, hostilities had in reality commenced between Great Britain and the colonists, though as yet not openly declared, and the blood of numbers of brave men had stained the plains of Lexington and Concord. On receiving the account of this battle, congress determined upon war. It was necessary to fix upon some one for the post of commander-in-chief of the troops which were ordered to be raised. The eyes of all the New England delegation were turned upon General Ward, then at the head of the army in Massachusetts. At a meeting of them, when that officer was proposed for nomination, Mr. A. alone dissented, and urged the selection of George Washington, one of the representatives from Virginia. He was resisted, and left the meeting with the declaration that Washington on the next day should be nominated. He was accordingly nominated, at the instigation of Mr. A., by governor Johnstone of Maryland, and chosen without an opposing voice. Five days after the appointment of General Washington, Mr. Jefferson made his first appearance on the floor of congress, having been chosen by the people of Virginia to fill the place of Patrick Henry, who had lately been elected the governor of that province. Between this distinguished man and Mr. A. a friendship speedily arose, which subsisted, with a short interruption, during the remainder of their lives. When Mr. A. returned to Massachusetts, after the dissolution of the congress of 1775, the post of chief justice of the state was offered to him, which he declined, on account of his belief that he should be able to render more effectual service to the cause of his country in its national councils. At the time that he resumed his seat in them in 1776, hostilities were active between Great Britain and the colonies. But the object of the latter was as yet merely to resist the authority assumed by the parent country to impose taxes upon them at pleasure. Few persons entertained the idea of a dissolution of connexion; very few, even of the delegates in congress, seemed to desire it; but among those few John Adams was the foremost. We have already mentioned its unpopularity. As soon as Mr. A. was suspected in Philadelphia of being an advocate of that measure, he was represented constantly in the most odious light, and even pointed at and avoided on appearing in the streets. Still, however, he persevered, made every day proselytes, and, May 6, 1776, moved in congress a resolution, which was, in fact, a virtual declaration of independence, recommending to the colonies ‘to adopt such a government as would, in the opinion of the representatives of the people, best conduce to the happiness and safety of their constituents and of America.’ This passed, after a hard struggle, on the 15th of the same month, and was the prelude to the glorious and daring resolution, moved by Richard Henry Lee, of Virginia, on the 7th of June following, and seconded by Mr. A., ‘that these united colonies are, and of right ought to be, free and independent states; that they are absolved from all allegiance to the British crown; and that all political connexion between them and the state of Great Britain is, and of right ought to be, totally dissolved.’ The debate upon this motion was of the most animated character. It continued from the 7th to the 10th, when the further discussion of the measure was postponed to the 1st of July. A committee of five was also appointed to prepare a provisional draft of a declaration of independence. The members of it were chosen by ballot, and were Thomas Jefferson, John Adams, Benjamin Franklin, Roger Sherman, and Robert R. Livingston. Mr. Jefferson and Mr. A. were deputed a sub-committee to prepare the instrument, the former of whom, at the earnest solicitation of the latter, became its author.