From The International Library of Masterpieces, Literature, Art, & Rare Manuscripts, Volume I, Editor-in-Chief: Harry Thurston Peck; The International Bibliophile Society, New York; 1901; pp. 53-60.
ADAMS, JOHN QUINCY, an American statesman and publicist; sixth President of the United States; born at Braintree, Mass., July 11, 1767; died in Washington, D. C., February 21, 1848. Before he reached the Presidency he had served as his country’s representative in England, France, Prussia, and Holland; in his youth, too, he had accompanied his father, John Adams, when he was American Minister at London. He was a frequent contributor to the press, of articles on political topics. He translated Wieland’s “Oberon” into English (1797); published “Letters on Silesia,” (1803). The “Diary of J. Q. Adams,” with his “Memoirs,” in 12 vols., was published 1874-77, edited by his son.
“MAN wants but little here below,
Nor wants that little long.”
’T is not with ME exactly so,
But ’t is so in the song.
My wants are many, and if told
Would muster many a score;
And were each wish a mint of gold,
I still should long for more.
What first I want is daily bread,
And canvasbacks, and wine,
And all the realms of nature spread
Before me when I dine.
Four courses scarcely can provide
My appetite to quell,
With four choice cooks from France beside
To dress my dinner well.
What next I want, at heavy cost,
Is elegant attire, —
Black sable furs for winter’s frost,
And silks for summer’s fire,
And Cashmere shawls, and Brussels lace
My bosom’s front to deck,
And diamond rings my hands to grace,
And rubies for my neck.
54
And then I want a mansion fair,
A dwelling house in style,
Four stories high, for wholesome air,
A massive marble pile,
With halls for banquets and for balls,
All furnished rich and fine,
With stabled studs in fifty stalls,
And cellars for my wine.
I want a garden and a park
My dwelling to surround,
A thousand acres (bless the mark!),
With walls encompassed round,
Where flocks may range and herds may low,
And kids and lambkins play,
And flowers and fruits commingled grow,
All Eden to display.
I want, when summer’s foliage falls,
And autumn strips the trees,
A house within the city’s walls,
For comfort and for ease.
But, here as space is somewhat scant
And acres rather rare,
My house in town I only want
To occupy — a square.
I want a steward, butler, cooks,
A coachman, footman, grooms,
A library of well-bound books,
And picture-garnished rooms,
Corregios, Magdalen, and Night,
The Matron of the Chair,
Guido’s fleet Coursers in their flight,
And Claudes at least a pair.
Ay! and to stamp my form and face
Upon the solid rock,
I want, their lineaments to trace,
Carrara’s milk-white block,
And let the chisel’s art sublime
By Greenough’s hand display
Through all the range of future time
My features to the day.
55
I want a cabinet profuse
Of medals, coins, and gems;
A printing-press for private use
Of fifty thousand ems;
And plants and minerals and shells,
Worms, insects, fishes, birds;
And every beast on earth that dwells
In solitude or herds.
I want a board of burnished plate,
Of silver and of gold,
Tureens of twenty pounds in weight,
With sculpture’s richest mold,
Plateaus, with chandeliers and lamps,
Plates, dishes all the same,
And porcelain vases with the stamps
Of Sèvres and Angoulême.
And maples of fair glossy stain
Must form my chamber doors,
And carpets of the Wilton grain
Must cover all my floors;
My walls with tapestry bedecked
Must never be outdone;
And damask curtains must protect
Their colors from the sun.
And mirrors of the largest pane
From Venice must be brought;
And sandalwood and bamboo cane
For chairs and tables bought;
On all the mantelpeices, clocks
Of thrice-gilt bronze must stand,
And screens of ebony and box
Invite the stranger’s hand.
I want (who does not want?) a wife,
Affectionate and fair,
To solace all the woes of life,
And all its joys to share;
Of temper sweet, of yielding will,
Of firm yet placid mind;
With all my faults to love me still,
With sentiments refined.
56
And as Time’s ear incessant runs
And Fortune fills my store,
I want of daughters and of sons
From eight to half a score.
I want (alas! can mortal dare
Such bliss on earth to crave?)
That all the girls be chaste and fair,
The boys all wise and brave.
And when my bosom’s darling sings
With melody divine,
A pedal harp of many strings
Must with her voice combine.
A piano exquisitely wrought
Must open stand apart,
That all my daughters may be taught
To win the stranger’s heart.
My wife and daughters will desire
Refreshment from perfumes,
Cosmetics for the skin require,
And artificial blooms.
The civet fragrance shall dispense
And treasured sweets return,
Cologne revive the flagging sense,
And smoking amber burn.
And when, at night, my weary head
Begins to droop and doze,
A southern chamber holds my bed
For nature’s soft repose,
With blankets, counterpanes, and sheet,
Mattress and bed of down,
And comfortables for my feet,
And pillows for my crown.
I want a warm and faithful friend
To cheer the adverse hour,
Who ne’er to flatter will descend
Nor bend the knee to power;
A friend to chide me when I ’m wrong,
My inmost soul to see,
And that my friendship prove as strong
For him as his for me.
57
I want a kind and tender heart,
For others’ wants to feel;
A soul secure from Fortune’s dart,
And bosom armed with steel,
To bear Divine chastisement’s rod,
And mingling in my plan
Submission to the will of God
With charity to man.
I want a keen, observing eye,
An ever-listening ear,
The truth through all disguise to spy,
And wisdom’s voice to hear;
A tongue to speak at virtue’s need
In Heaven’s sublimest strain,
And lips the cause of Man to plead,
And never plead in vain.
I want uninterrupted health
Throughout my long career,
And streams of never-failing wealth
To scatter far and near, —
The destitute to clothe and feed,
Free bounty to bestow,
Supply the helpless orphan’s need
And soothe the widow’s woe.
I want the genius to conceive,
The talents to unfold
Designs, the vicious to retrieve,
The virtuous to uphold;
Inventive power, combining skill,
A persevering soul,
Of human hearts to mold the will
And reach from pole to pole.
I want the seals of power and place,
The ensigns of command,
Charged by the People’s unbought grace
To rule my native land;
Nor crown nor sceptre would I ask
But from my country’s will,
By day, by night, to ply the task
Her cup of bliss to fill.
58
I want the voice of honest praise
To follow me behind,
And to be thought in future days
The friend of human kind,
That after ages, as they rise,
Exulting may proclaim
In choral union to the skies
Their blessings on my name.
These are the wants of mortal man;
I cannot want them long,
For life itself is but a span,
And earthly bliss a song.
My last great want, absorbing all,
Is, when beneath the sod,
And summoned to m final call,
The mercy of my God.
And, oh! while circles in my veins
Of life the purple stream,
And yet a fragment small remains
Of nature’s transient dream,
My soul, in humble hope unscared
Forget not thou to pray
That this thy want may be prepared
To meet the Judgment Day.
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(From his Fourth of July Oration at Quincy, 1831.)
NULLIFICATION is the provocation to that brutal and foul contest of force, which has hitherto baffled all the efforts of the European and Southern American nations, to introduce among them constitutional governments of liberty and order. It strips us of that peculiar and unimitated characteristic of all our legislation — free debate; it makes the bayonet the arbiter of law; it has no argument but the thunderbolt. It were senseless to imagine that twenty-three States of the Union would suffer their laws to be trampled upon by the despotic mandate of one. The act of nullification would itself be null and void. Force must be called in to execute the law of the Union. Force must be applied by the nullifying State to resist its execution —
“Ate, hot from Hell,
Cries Havoc! and lets slip the dogs of war.”
The blood of brethren is shed by each other. The citizen of the nullifying State is a traitor to his country, by obedience to the law of his State; a traitor to his State, by obedience of the law of his country. The scaffold and the battle-field stream alternately with the blood of their victims. Let this agent but once intrude upon your deliberations, and Freedom will take her flight for heaven. The Declaration of Independence will become a philosophical dream, and uncontrolled, despotic sovereignties will trample with impunity, through a long career of after ages, at interminable or exterminating war with one another, upon the indefeasible and unalienable rights of man.
The event of a conflict of arms, between the Union and one of its members, whether terminating in victory or defeat, would be but an alternative of calamity to all. In the holy records of antiquity, we have two examples of a confederation ruptured by the severance of its members; one of which resulted, after three desperate battles, in the extermination of the seceding tribe. And the victorious people, instead of exulting in shouts of triumph, “came to the House of God, and abode there till even before God; and lifted up their voices, and wept sore, and said, — O Lord God of Israel, why is this come to pass in Israel, that there should be to-day one tribe lacking in Israel?” The other was a successful example of resistance against tyrannical taxation, and severed forever the confederacy, the fragments forming separate kingdoms; and from that day, their history presents an unbroken series of disastrous alliances and exterminating wars — of assassinations, conspiracies, revolts, and rebellions, until both parts of the confederacy sunk in tributary servitude to the nations around them; till the countrymen of David and Solomon hung their harps upon the willows of Babylon, and were totally lost among the multitudes of the Chaldean and Assyrian monarchies, “the most despised portion of their slaves.”
In these mournful memorials of their fate, we may behold the sure, too sure prognostication of our own time, from the hour when force shall be substituted for deliberation in the settlement of our Constitutional questions. This is the deplorable alternative — the extirpation of the seceding member, or the never-ceasing struggle of two rival confederacies, ultimately bending the neck of both under the yoke of foreign domination, or the despotic sovereignty of a conqueror at home. May Heaven avert the omen! The destinies of not only our posterity, but of the human race, are at stake.
60Let no such melancholy forebodings intrude upon the festivities of this anniversary. Serene skies and balmy breezes are not congenial to the climate of freedom. Progressive improvement in the condition of man is apparently the purpose of a superintending Providence. That purpose will not be disappointed. In no delusion of national vanity, but with a feeling of profound gratitude to the God of our Fathers, let us indulge the cheering hope and belief, that our country and her people have been selected as instruments for preparing and maturing much of the good yet in reserve for the welfare and happiness of the human race. Much good has already been effected by the solemn proclamation of our principles, much more by the illustration of our example. The tempest which threatens desolation, may be destined only to purify the atmosphere. It is not in tranquil ease and enjoyment that the active energies of mankind are displayed. Toils and dangers are the trials of the soul. Doomed to the first by his sentence at the fall, man, by his submission, converts them into pleasures. The last are since the fall the condition of his existence. To seem them in advance, to guard against them by all the suggestions of prudence, to meet them with the composure of unyielding resistance, and to abide with firm resignation the final dispensation of Him who rules the ball, — these are the dictates of philosophy — these are the precepts of religion — these are the principles and consolations of patriotism; these remain when all is lost — and of these is composed the spirit of independence — the spirit embodied in that beautiful personification of the poet, which may each of you, my countrymen, to the last hour of his life, apply to himself: —
“Thy spirit, Independence, let me share,
Lord of the lion heart and eagle eye!
Thy steps I follow, with my bosom bare,
Nor heed the storm that howls along the sky.
In the course of nature, the voice which now addresses you must soon cease to be heard upon earth. Life and all which it inherits, lose of their value as it draws towards its close. But for most of you, my friends and neighbors, long and many years of futurity are yet in store. May they be years of freedom — years of prosperity — years of happiness, ripening for immortality! But, were the breath which now gives utterance to my feelings, the last vital air I should draw, my expiring words to you and your children should be, INDEPENDENCE AND UNION FOREVER!