“So live, that when thy summons
comes to join
The innumerable caravan, that moves
To the pale realms of shade, where
each shall take
His chamber in the silent halls
of death,
Thou go not, like the quarry-slave
at night,
Scourged to his dungeon; but, sustained,
and soothed
By an unfaltering trust, approach
thy grave,
Like one who wraps the drapery of
his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant
dreams.”
On the day succeeding Mr. Adams’ death, when the two Houses of Congress met, the full attendance of members, and a crowded auditory, attested the deep desire felt by all to witness the proceedings which would take place in relation to the death of one who had long occupied so high a place in the councils of the Republic. As soon as the House of Representatives was called to order, the Speaker, (the Hon. Robert C. Winthrop of Massachusetts,) rose, and in a feeling manner addressed the House as follows:—
“Gentlemen of the House of Representatives of the United States: It has been thought fit that the Chair should announce officially to the House, an event already known to the members individually, and which has filled all our hearts with sadness. A seat on this floor has been vacated, toward which all eyes have been accustomed to turn with no common interest. A voice has been hushed forever in this Hall, to which all ears have been wont to listen with profound reverence. A venerable form has faded from our sight, around which we have daily clustered with an affectionate regard. A name has been stricken from the roll of the living statesmen of our land, which has been associated, for more than half a century, with the highest civil service, and the loftiest civil renown.
“On Monday, the 21st instant, John Quincy Adams sunk in his seat, in presence of us all, by a sudden illness, from which he never recovered; and he died, in the Speaker’s room, at a quarter past seven o’clock last evening, with the officers of the House and the delegation of his own Massachusetts around him.