York, June 30, 1774.
I Have nothing to do here but to take the air, inquire for
news, talk politics, and write letters.
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 gentlemen1
who are bound with me to Philadelphia; 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 even 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. Sayward says, and the rest of them 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.2
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 this 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 thy 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 parson does and says what he pleases, is a great Tory, and as odd as
Moody.
_______________
1 Thirteen days before, the writer had been
chosen with four others, J. Bowdoin, W. Cushing, Samuel Adams, and R. T. Paine,
to go to Philadelphia, for the purpose of meeting delegates of other colonies
for consultation.
2 Samuel Moody, born in 1675, graduated at
Cambridge in 1697, and died in 1747; one of a class peculiar to colonial times,
the like of whom are no longer to be found in the rural districts.
SOURCE: Charles Francis Adams, Familiar Letters of John Adams and His Wife Abigail Adams, During the
Revolution, p. 5-6
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