John

Abigail

     Our Justice Hutchinson* is eternally giving his political hints. In a cause this morning, somebody named Captain Mackay as a referee. I said, “An honest man?” “Yes,” says Hutchinson, “he’s an honest man, only misled“–”he, he, he!”–blinking and grinning. At dinner today somebody mentioned determinations in the Lord’s House (the Court sits in the meeting-house). “I’ve known many very bad determinations in the Lord’s house of late,” says he, meaning a fling upon the clergy. He is perpetually flinging about the Fasts, and ironically talking about getting home to the Fast. A gentleman told me that he had heard him say frequently that the Fast was perfect blasphemy. “Why don’t you pay for the tea? Refuse to pay for the tea! and go to fasting and praying for direction! Perfectly blasphemy!”
     This is the moderation, candor, impartiality, prudence, patience, forbearance, and condescension of our Judge.
     Samuel Quincy said yesterday, as Josiah told me, he was for staying at home and not going to meeting as they, i.e., the meetings, are so managed.
     Such is the bitterness and rancor, the malice and revenge, the pride and vanity, which prevail in these men. And such minds are possessed of all the power of the province.
     Samuel makes no fortune this court. There is very little business here, it is true, but S. gets but very little of that little–less than anybody.
     Wyer retains his old good nature and good humor, his wit, such as it is, and his fancy, with its mildness. Bradbury retains his anxiety, and his plaintive, angry manner; David Sewall his softness and conceited modesty.
     Bradbury and Sewall always roast Dr. Gardiner at these courts, but they have done it more now than usual, as Gardiner had not me to protect him. See how I think of myself!
     I believe it is time to think a little about my family and farm. The fine weather we have had for eight or ten days past I hope has been carefully improved to get in my hay. It is a great mortification to me that I could not attend every step of their progress in mowing, making, and carting. I long to see what burden. But I long more still to see to the procuring more sea-weed, and marsh mud, and sand, etc.
     However, my prospect is interrupted again, I shall have no more time. I must prepare for a journey to Philadelphia, a long journey indeed! But if the length of the journey were all, it would be no burden. But the consideration of what is to be done is of great weight. Great things are wanted to be done, and little things only I fear can be done. I dread the thought of the Congress’ falling short of the expectations of the continent, but especially of the people of this province.
     Vapors avaunt! I will do my duty, and leave the event. If I have the approbation of my own mind, whether applauded or censured, blessed or cursed, by the world, I will not be unhappy.
     Certainly I shall enjoy good company, good conversation, and shall have a fine ride and see a little more of the world than I have before.
     I think it will be necessary to make me up a couple of pieces of new linen. I am told they wash miserably at New York, the Jerseys, and Philadelphia too in comparison of Boston, and am advised to carry a great deal of linen. Whether to make me a suit of new clothes at Boston or to make them at Philadelphia, and what to make, I know not, nor do I know how I shall go–whether on horseback, in a curricle, a phaeton, or altogether in a stagecoach I know not.
     The letters I have written, or may write, my dear, must be kept secret, or at least shown with great caution. Mr. Fairservice goes tomorrow: by him shall I send a packet. Kiss my dear babes for me.

     Your¹,
     John Adams
     Falmouth
     6 July 1774

     I believe I forgot to tell you one anecdote. When first came to this house it was late in the afternoon, and I had ridden thirty-five miles at least. “Madam,” said I to Mrs. Huston, “is it lawful for a weary traveller to refresh himself with a dish of tea, provided it has been honestly smuggled, or paid no duties?” “No, sir,” said she, “we have renounced all tea in this place, but I’ll make you coffee.” Accordingly I drank coffee every afternoon since, and have borne it very well. Tea must be universally renounced, and I must be weaned, and the sooner the better.

Footnotes:

     * – Justice Foster Hutchinson (1724-1799), an associate justice of the Superior Court, brother of Thomas Hutchinson, one of John’s most frequent targets for rancor, given Thomas Hutchinson’s support of British policies.
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     ¹ – This time John actually signed the letter for a change! Huzzah! Just thought I’d point this out, since I mentioned previously that most of the time he didn’t bother to sign them, for some unknown reason. Now back to our regularly scheduled letter!
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     Dear Abigail,

     I have nothing to do here but to take the air, inquire for news, talk politics, and write letters. This town has the best air I have ever breathed. It is very level and there are no mountains or hills to obstruct the free course of the air upon any point of compass for eight or ten miles. It lies upon the sea on the south and has a river running through it. The weather has been inexpressibly fine all this week. The air is as clear, as bright, as springy, as you can conceive. Braintree air is thick and unelastic in comparison of this. What then is that of Boston?
     I regret that I cannot have the pleasure of enjoying this fine weather with my family, and upon my farm. Oh, how often am I there! I have but a dull prospect before me. I have no hope of reaching Braintree under a fortnight from this day, if I should in twenty days.
     I regret my absence from the county of Suffolk this week on another account. If I was there, I could converse with the gentlemen who are bound with me to Philadelphia¹; I could turn the course of my reading and studies to such subjects of Law, and Politics, and Commerce, as may come in play at the Congress. I might be furbishing up my old reading in Law and History, that I might appear with less indecency before a variety of gentlemen, whose educations, travels, experience, family, fortune, and everything will give them a vast superiority to me, and I fear to some of my companions.
     This town of York is a curiosity, in several views. The people here are great idolaters of the memory of their former minister, Mr. Moody. Dr. Sayward² says, and the rest of the generally think, that Mr. Moody was one of the greatest men and best saints who have lived since the days of the Apostles. He had an ascendency and authority over the people here, as absolute as that of any prince in Europe, not excepting his Holiness.
     This he acquired by a variety of means. In the first place, he settled in the place without any contract. His professed principle was that no man should be hired to preach the gospel, but that the minister should depend upon the charity, generosity, and benevolence of the people. This was very flattering to their pride, and left room for their ambition to display itself in an emulation among them which should be most bountiful and ministerial.
     In the next place, he acquired the character of firm trust in Providence. A number of gentlemen came in one day, when they had nothing in the house. His wife was very anxious, they say, and asked him what they should do. “Oh, never fear; trust Providence, make a fire in the oven, and you will have something.” Very soon a variety of everything that was good was sent in, and by one o’clock they had a splendid dinner.
     He had also the reputation of enjoying intimate communication with the Deity, and of having a great interest in the Court of Heaven by his prayers.
     He always kept his musket in order, and was fond of hunting. On a time, they say, he was out of provisions. There came along two wild geese. He takes gun and cries, “If it please God I kill both, I will send the fattest to the poorest person in the parish.” He shot, and killed both; ordered them plucked, and then sent the fattest to a poor widow, leaving the other, which was a very poor one, at home,–to the great mortification of his lady. But his maxim was, Perform unto the Lord they vow.
     But the best story I have heard yet was his doctrine in a sermon from this text: “Lord, what shall we do?” The doctrine was that when a person or people are in a state of perplexity, and know not what to do, they ought never to do they know not what. This is applicable to the times.
     He brought his people into a remarkable submission and subjection to their spiritual rulers, which continues to this day. Their present parson³ does and says what he pleases, is a great Tory, and as odd as Moody.

     - John Adams
     York, June 30, 1774

     Footnotes:
     ¹ “gentlemen… bound with me to Philadelphia”: Just prior to the drafting of this letter, on June 17, Adams had been selected as a delegate to the First Continental Congress, scheduled to meet in Philadelphia; also chosen were James Bowdoin, Thomas Cushing, Robert Treat Paine, and John’s second cousin, Samuel Adams.

     ² Mr. Moody. Dr. Sayward: Samuel Moody was born in 1675, graduated from Cambridge in 1697, and died in 1747. He was often referred to as “peculiar”, but most seemed to mean that with nothing but respect and positivity. Dr. Jonathan Sayward (1713-97), a known loyalist, was a prominent citizen of York County. Despite his loyalist leanings, he retained his property and social position during and even after the Revolution.

     ³ their present parson: This letter was later edited to remove Adams’ identification of the pastor as Isaac Lyman, a known Loyalist. I haven’t been able to find out why it was edited. It seemed important to note, however, since Isaac Lyman will be referenced in future letters.