Diary of John Quincy Adams, volume 2

339 4th. JQA

1788-01-04

4th. Adams, John Quincy
4th.

Nothing—It would be a fine theme to expatiate upon. It has been well expatiated on. When I look around me, and see the vices, the follies, the errors of my fellow creatures, when I look into myself and enquire, into the springs and motives of my actions, when I look forward, and ask, what am I to do, what am I to expect, an involuntary sigh, acknowledges that nothing, is the only answer. In the physical world, what are sensual gratifications, what is the earth, and all it contains, what is Life itself—nothing. In the moral world, what is honour, what is honesty, what is religion?—nothing. In the political world, what is Liberty, what is patriotism, what is power and grandeur?—nothing. The universe is an atom, and it's creator is all in all. Of him, except that he exists, we know nothing, and consequently our knowledge is nothing.

Perhaps the greatest truth of all is, that for this half hour, I have been doing nothing.

5th. JQA

1788-01-05

5th. Adams, John Quincy
5th.

I have this week been reading Cecilia,1 a novel of some reputation; it was written by a Lady, and does not exhibit that knowledge of human nature, which is the greatest excellency, perhaps of novels. Some of the characters however are well drawn; they are generally exaggerated, and appear rather too strongly marked for perfect imitations of nature. The characters of Miss Larolles and of Meadows, appear to me, original, and true: that of Lady Pemberton, is pleasing, but merely an imitation. The story in general is well told, and the interest is preserved; but in many places probability is not sufficiently consulted, and the repetitions of the mistakes at Belfield's lodgings, become tedious, and wearisome; the catastrophe is not just as I should wish it, yet perhaps it is more judicious than it would have been to have preserved her fortune. If the book, was made shorter by two volumes, I think it would be much better than it is; but even now it is infinitely superior to the common herd of novels, which are mere nusances to Literature.

I passed the evening quite in a solitary way at my own lodgings. The weather has this week been extremely cold.

1.

Frances (Burney) d'Arblay, Cecilia, or, Memoirs of an Heiress, 5 vols., London, 1782.

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