Familiar Letters of John Adams and His Wife Abigail Adams During the Revolution: with a Memoir of Mrs. AdamsAdams, John
History
Familiar Letters of John Adams and His Wife Abigail Adams During the Revolution: with a Memoir of Mrs. Adams
Adams, John
Adams, Abigail, 1744-1818 -- Correspondence; Adams, John, 1735-1826 -- Correspondence; Presidents -- United States -- Correspondence
Mrs. Mifflin, who is a charming Quaker girl, often inquires kindly after
your health.
Adieu, my dear wife. God bless you and yours; so wishes and prays,
without ceasing,
JOHN ADAMS.
27. JOHN ADAMS.
9 October, 1774.
I am wearied to death with the life I lead. The business of the Congress
is tedious beyond expression. This assembly is like no other that ever
existed. Every man in it is a great man, an orator, a critic, a
statesman; and therefore every man upon every question must show his
oratory, his criticism, and his political abilities. The consequence of
this is that business is drawn and spun out to an immeasurable length. I
believe if it was moved and seconded that we should come to a resolution
that three and two make five, we should be entertained with logic and
rhetoric, law, history, politics, and mathematics, and then--we should
pass the resolution unanimously in the affirmative. The perpetual round
of feasting, too, which we are obliged to submit to, makes the
pilgrimage more tedious to me.
This day I went to Dr. Allison's meeting in the forenoon, and heard the
Dr.;[58] a good discourse upon the Lord's supper. This is a Presbyterian
meeting. I confess I am not fond of the Presbyterian meetings in this
town. I had rather go to Church. We have better sermons, better prayers,
better speakers, softer, sweeter music, and genteeler company. And I
must confess that the Episcopal church is quite as agreeable to my taste
as the Presbyterian. They are both slaves to the domination of the
priesthood. I like the Congregational way best, next to that the
Independent.
This afternoon, led by curiosity and good company, I strolled away to
mother church, or rather to grandmother church. I mean the Romish
chapel. I heard a good, short moral essay upon the duty of parents to
their children, founded in justice and charity, to take care of their
interests, temporal and spiritual. This afternoon's entertainment was to
me most awful and affecting; the poor wretches fingering their beads,
chanting Latin not a word of which they understood; their pater nosters
and ave Marias; their holy water; their crossing themselves perpetually;
their bowing to the name of Jesus, whenever they hear it; their bowings
and kneelings and genuflections before the altar. The dress of the
priest was rich with lace. His pulpit was velvet and gold. The
altar-piece was very rich; little images and crucifixes about; wax
candles lighted up. But how shall I describe the picture of our Saviour
in a frame of marble over the altar, at full length, upon the cross in
the agonies, and the blood dropping and streaming from his wounds! The
music, consisting of an organ and a choir of singers, went all the
afternoon except sermon time. And the assembly chanted most sweetly and
exquisitely.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account