fight; he wanted no further conciliation.  But he did not as yet openly declare his views.  In 1774 General Gage was placed at the head of the British military force in Boston, and the port was closed.  The legislature, overawed by the troops, removed to Salem, and then chose five men as delegates to the General Congress about to assemble in Philadelphia.  John Adams was one of these delegates, and associated with him were Samuel Adams, Thomas Cushing, James Bowdoin, and Robert Treat Paine.

All historians unite in their praises of this memorable assembly, as composed of the picked men of the country.  At the meeting of this Congress began the career of John Adams as a statesman.  Until then he had been a mere politician, but honest, bold, and talented, in abilities second to no one in the country, ranking alone with Jefferson in general influence,—­certainly the foremost man in Massachusetts.

But it was the vehemence of his patriotism and his inspiring eloquence which brought Adams to the front, rather than his legal reputation.  He was not universally admired or loved.  He had no tact.  His temper was irascible, jealous, and impatient; his manners were cold, like those of all his descendants, and his vanity was inordinate.  Every biographer has admitted his egotism, and jealousy even of Franklin and Washington.  Everybody had confidence in his honesty, his integrity, his private virtues, his abilities, and patriotism.  These exalted traits were no more doubted than the same in Washington.  But if he had more brain-power than Washington he had not that great leader’s prudence, nor good sense, nor patience, nor self-command, nor unerring instinct in judging men and power of guiding them.

One reason, perhaps, why Adams was not so conciliatory as Jefferson was inclined to be toward England was that he had gone too far to be pardoned.  He was the most outspoken and violent of all the early leaders of rebellion except his cousin, Samuel Adams.  He was detested by royal governors and the English government.  But his ardent temperament and his profound convictions furnish a better reason for his course.  All the popular leaders were of course alive to the probable personal consequences if their cause should not succeed; but fear of personal consequences was the feeblest of their motives in persistent efforts for independence.  They were inspired by a loftier sentiment than that, even an exalted patriotism.  It burned in every speech they made, and in every conversation in which they took part.  If they had not the spirit of martyrdom, they had the spirit of self-devotion to a noble cause.  They saw clearly enough the sacrifices they would be required to make, and the calamities which would overwhelm the land.  But these were nothing to the triumph of their cause.  Of this final triumph none of the great leaders of the Revolution doubted.  They felt the impossibility of subduing a nation determined to be free, by such forces as England could send across the ocean.