Note (back) — Chapter II · (continued 2)

His return to Quincy held out the less promise of comfort, because the old chasm between him and the Federalist gentlemen of Boston had been lately reopened. Certain malicious newspaper paragraphs, born of the mischievous spirit of the wretched Giles, had recently set afloat some stories designed seriously to injure Mr. Adams. These were, substantially, that in 1808-9 he had been convinced that some among the leaders of the Federalist party in New England were entertaining a project for separation from the Union, that he had feared that this event would be promoted by the embargo, that he foresaw that the seceding portion would inevitably be compelled into some sort of alliance with Great Britain, that he suspected negotiations to this end to have been already set on foot, that he thereupon gave privately some more or less distinct intimations of these notions of his to sundry prominent Republicans, and even to President Jefferson. These tales, much distorted from the truth and exaggerated as usual, led to the publication of an open letter, in November, 1828, addressed by thirteen Federalists of note in Massachusetts to John Quincy Adams, demanding names and specifications and the production of evidence. Mr. Adams replied briefly, with dignity, and, considering the circumstances, with good temper, stating fairly the substantial import of what he had really said, declaring that he had never mentioned names, and refusing, for good reasons given, either to do so now or to publish the grounds of such opinions as he had entertained. It was sufficiently clear that he had said nothing secretly which he had reason to regret; and that if he sought to shun the discussion opened by his adversaries, he was influenced by wise forbearance, and not at all by any fear of the consequences to himself. A dispassionate observer could have seen that behind this moderate, rather deprecatory letter there was an abundant reserve of controversial material held for the moment in check. But his adversaries were not dispassionate; on the contrary they were greatly excited and were honestly convinced of the perfect goodness of their cause. They were men of the highest character in public and private life, deservedly of the best repute in the community, of unimpeachable integrity in motives and dealings, influential and respected, men whom it was impossible in New England to treat with neglect or indifference. For this reason it was only the harder to remain silent beneath their published reproach when a refutation was possible. Hating Mr. Adams with an animosity not diminished by the lapse of years since his defection from their party, strong in a consciousness of their own standing before their fellow citizens, the thirteen notables responded with much acrimony to Mr. Adams's unsatisfactory letter. Thus persistently challenged and assailed, at a time when his recent crushing political defeat made an attack upon him seem a little ungenerous, Mr. Adams at last went into the fight in earnest. He had the good fortune to be thoroughly right, and also to have sufficient evidence to prove and justify at least as much as he had ever said. All this evidence he brought together in a vindicatory pamphlet, which, however, by the time he had completed it he decided not to publish. But fortunately he did not destroy it, and his grandson, in the exercise of a wise discretion, has lately given it to the world. His foes never knew how deeply they were indebted to the self-restraint which induced him to keep this formidable missive harmless in his desk. Full of deep feeling, yet free from ebullitions of temper, clear in statement, concise in style, conclusive in facts, unanswerable in argument, unrelentingly severe in dealing with opponents, it is as fine a specimen of political controversy as exists in the language. Its historical value cannot be exaggerated, but apart from this as a mere literary production it is admirable. Happy were the thirteen that they one and all went down to their graves complaisantly thinking that they had had the last word in the quarrel, little suspecting how great was their obligation to Mr. Adams for having granted them that privilege. One would think that they might have writhed beneath their moss-grown headstones on the day when his last word at length found public utterance, albeit that the controversy had then become one of the dusty tales of history.[8]