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2005 Aliens in the World: Sectarians, Secularism and the Matt McCook

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COLLEGE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES

ALIENS IN THE WORLD:

SECTARIANS, SECULARISM AND THE SECOND GREAT AWAKENING

By

MATT MCCOOK

A Dissertation submitted to the Department of History in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy

Degree Awarded: Fall Semester, 2005

The members of the Committee approve the dissertation of Matt McCook defended on

August 18, 2005.

______Neil Jumonville Professor Directing Dissertation

______Thomas Joiner Outside Committee Member

______Elna Green Committee Member

______Albrecht Koschnik Committee Member

______Amanda Porterfield Committee Member

The Office of Graduate Studies has verified and approved the above named committee members.

ii

The following is dedicated to three individuals whose lives have been and will be affected by this project and its completion as much as mine. One has supported me in every possible way throughout my educational pursuits, sharing the highs, the lows, the sacrifices, the frustration, but always being patient with me and believing in me more than I believed in myself. The second has inspired me to go back to the office to work many late nights while at the same time being the most welcome distraction constantly reminding me of what I value most. And the anticipated arrival of the third has inspired me to finish so that this precious child would not have to share his or her father with a dissertation. Alyssa, Collin and Katie, or Jackson (or whatever we finally decide your name will be), I hope that you can be proud of this completed work and possible inspired by some of the individuals it discusses, but most of all, I hope you look forward to spending more time together with no looming ABD cloud hanging over us as much as I do.

iii ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Whatever measure of success I have attained in the field of academics is owed to all those who taught, advised, encouraged, challenged and nurtured me along the way.

Neither time nor space is permitted to express my thanks to all who deserve it, but since this dissertation marks the completion of a terminal degree I find it appropriate to recognize mentors at each stage of my academic journey.

First, I must thank Dr. Henry Speck III, my first college history professor. It was only by chance that I found myself in his course on world history my freshman year, but the coincidence proved to be life changing. Although I was by no means his most outstanding student, I was one of his most admiring. He was a brilliant, challenging and inspiring professor and I was an awestruck undergrad. After taking every other history course I could with Dr. Speck I set out to do for others what he had done for me. I wanted to be a history professor able to challenge others mentally and spiritually at their minds’ ripest moment. Quiet naively I originally imaged being a specialist in ancient and

Middle Eastern history like Dr. Speck, but I am now committed to the study of another place and another time. Regardless of the scholarly distance between our areas of expertise, Dr. Speck will always be the professor I strive to become. Had I not been so inspired by his example I would never have started the educational journey which is now coming to an end.

I must also thank the history department at Sam Houston State University for helping me get to this point. Both faculty and staff deserve recognition for the ideal educational experienced I enjoyed there. I enrolled in their Masters’ program in history

iv determined to go from there to a doctoral program, but having little idea of how to get there or what to specialize in. I left SHSU certain of what I wanted to study and well prepared for the highest level of training as an historian. Although I was only a part time student taking much more from the department than I gave, I was encouraged, nurtured and refined every step of the way. I was also allowed considerable freedom in designing my program of study, and I never had trouble finding professors willing to oversee independent study courses, without which I could not have finished my degree and started at Florida State University when I did.

In particular I want to acknowledge the SHSU professor who was responsible for my interest in American religious history, Dr. Terry Bilhartz. Because of my own naivety and his humility, I had no idea he had contributed so significantly to the study of the Second Great Awakening. It was not until I started researching the subject for a paper in a doctoral course on Jeffersonian America that I realized how great his contribution has been. I only hope mine is a worthy follow up as one of his former students. I consider his recommendation for admission to doctoral studies among my highest academic honors and I look forward to getting his feedback on this study as it evolves, hopefully, from dissertation to book.

Next, I owe thanks to the members of my dissertation committee at Florida State

University who have been exceptionally helpful and accommodating. I am forever grateful to Dr. Elna Green and Dr. Amanda Porterfield who were willing to replace retired committee members late in my dissertation process and still provided me with helpful and encouraging feedback. Without their kindness I would have been lost. I also thank Dr. Thomas Joiner for his willingness to serve as the outside committee member on

v short notice, not to mention many good times playing on his team in basketball. I

especially thank Dr. Albrecht Koschnik who, from the beginning, read each of my

dissertation chapters more judiciously and provided helpful feedback more expeditiously

than is expected of any secondary reader. The fact that he did this while I was out of

state and he has been working toward securing his own tenure is remarkable. I thank

each of these committee members for their sacrifices on my behalf.

Finally, I thank my mentor, major professor and friend, Dr. Neil Jumonville. His acceptance of me as a graduate student made the pursuit of my professional goals possible. His courses made that pursuit enjoyable. And his encouragement made me believe I would succeed. Thanks to his direction my ill conceived ideas for a dissertation topic were refined and improved upon resulting in a finished product which is far greater than those I envisioned earlier. His suggestion that I include the Transcendentalists in my study of sectarians’ otherworldly attitudes gave this dissertation what I think is its most original part. For helping me develop as a scholar, pushing me toward excellence, placing me in an academic position I desired and praising my most noteworthy efforts,

Dr. Jumonville has been an ideal major professor and dissertation director. My doctoral dream inspired by Dr. Speck is now happily a reality thanks to Dr. Jumonville.

vi TABLE OF CONTENTS

Abstract………………………………………………………………………………….viii

Preface……………………………………………………………………………………ix

CHAPTER ONE: INTRODUCTION ……………………………………………………1

CHAPTER TWO: THE AND DISCIPLES……………………………. 19

CHAPTER THREE: THE MILLERITES……………………………………………….54

CHAPTER FOUR: THE MORMONS…………………………………………………..85

CHAPTER FIVE: THE HICKSITES…………………………………………………..121

CHAPTER SIX: THE TRANSCENDENTALISTS..………………………………….158

CHAPTER SEVEN: CONCLUSION………………………………………………….192

ENDNOTES……………………………………………………………………………196

BIBLIOGRAPHY………………………………………………………………………241

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH…………………………………………………………...267

vii ABSTRACT

The association of an otherworldly impulse with the Second Great Awakening and the study of sectarianism in the Jacksonian period have long been overlooked by scholars. Most have associated the awakening with evangelicals’ social and moral reform efforts or with Christian political mobilization because their attention has been focused on settled or maturing religious groups. Without question the awakening inspired many Christians to establish reform societies whose purpose was to turn the into a godly evangelical empire. However, the awakening also resulted in the creation of several new religious sects who rejected these efforts. The Disciples of Christ, or , the Millerites, the Mormons and the Hicksite Quakers do not fit typical characterizations of the awakening. They tried in various ways to remain unblemished by the world rather than expending their energies trying to perfect it. As sectarians in their initial stage of religious development they focused more on rewards in the next life than on comfort and conquest in this one. An analysis of their views on politics, social reform and economics suggests that the Second Great Awakening inspired an otherworldly outlook among sectarians even while it nurtured a reform impulse among denominations. The fact that American Transcendentalists, who were engaged in a separate literary, intellectual and spiritual movement, had similar attitudes toward politics, social reform and economics further suggests that the otherworldly outlook was pervasive in Jacksonian America.

viii PREFACE

This dissertation marks the end of my career as a student and represents the completion of a long educational journey. At times the journey was physical. I started researching and writing this dissertation in Tallahassee, Florida, and finished it in Edmond, Oklahoma. Like most historical scholarship it required travel to libraries and archives as well. But the most important journey was internal. I now understand that writing a dissertation involves serious reflection and, at times, soul searching. Readers are only privy to the writer’s thoughts at a given moment, not to the evolution of the scholar’s ideas. They acquire much more from a dissertation and its author if they know what led an author to a particular project, what the author’s purpose was, and how his or her ideas were shaped over time. Thus, before readers begin to navigate their way through this work, I want them to know more about how this project was conceived, how it evolved and what underlying questions it attempts to address. The journey that led to this dissertation started in my second year of doctoral studies. Until then I happily studied American intellectual and religious history, but had not considered potential dissertation topics very thoroughly. I wanted to explore some aspect of history, my own religious tradition, but my major professor, Dr. Neil Jumonville, suggested that I think of something with broader appeal. He advised me to think of an important underlying question with potentially broad appeal and to think of a research project that addressed the fundamental question. Identifying a deep question with public and personal appeal was easy. I had often contemplated what the proper relationship between Christians and politics ought to be. As a Christian I believed (and still believe) that there are much more important things than politics, or any temporal endeavor for that matter. As an American, however, I have the freedom to speak, act and vote in ways that make this nation more congruent with . Some would say this is my duty as both an American and a Christian. Put more broadly and plainly I wanted to address this philosophical question: What is a Christian’s role in the world?

ix Although this question has been asked by many Christians over the past two thousand years, I realized that it was not an historical question. That is, I knew that its answer could not be derived through historical methods. It was a religious, philosophical and personal question for which I sought no definitive answer. By keeping that question in mind I simply hoped to make whatever narrow work of scholarship I decided on relevant to a wider audience. Several periods within the twentieth century came to mind when I decided to write about Christians’ attitudes toward politics because that century was filled with examples of Christians mobilizing politically. In its early decades Fundamentalists battled alcohol and Darwinism politically while liberal Christians battled poverty and other effects of industrialization. At mid-century evangelical Christians united against communism, socialism, and anything that deviated from America’s consensus culture. Through most of my life the religious right has argued that Christians have a duty to use political means to redeem America from its immoral culture. Even while I wrote this dissertation at the turn of a new century evangelical Christians played a major role in electing and re-electing President George W. Bush. After taking consecutive courses in Jeffersonian and Jacksonian America with Dr. Albrecht Koschnik, however, my attention turned to the nineteenth century. Once I started seriously studying the Second Great Awakening I knew I had found my dissertation topic. I found this era to be ideal for my interest in Christian’s political attitudes because it was a period of religious revivalism, social activism and mass politics. According to several of the scholars I read, the Second Great Awakening was a socially, economically and politically motivated movement that encouraged evangelical Christians to create a godly kingdom in America. While this explanation had some validity – many Christians organized to eradicate societal sins like alcohol abuse and Sabbath breaking – my own familiarity with the history of the Churches of Christ made me aware that the explanation was problematic. Leaders of the early from which Churches of Christ emerged had little interest in politics. In fact, they encouraged Christians to avoid an unhealthy interest in all worldly things. I suspected that other new religious movements held similar views. And if all of the religious movements that emerged during the

x Second Great Awakening had an otherworldly outlook, I knew that the characterization of the awakening needed to be broadened. I now had an idea with which to approach Dr. Jumonville. I told him that I planned to study the otherworldly attitudes of several sectarian groups who emerged during the Second Great Awakening. After hearing some of my initial findings he suggested that I also study the Transcendentalists who shared a similar otherworldly outlook. Thus after much contemplation I started studying Christian and spiritual groups who answered the underlying question of a Christian’s role in the world very differently than the religious right. The subjects of my study believed that Christians should keep themselves pure by being “aliens in the world.” In various ways they opposed partisan politics, social reform efforts and materialism. While this otherworldly stance is not loudly pronounced by twenty-first century American Christians, I am certain that many still feel this way. I believe further research would confirm that there have been many Christians who saw themselves as “aliens in the world” even in times of great political and social activism. This dissertation certainly bares that out for the Second Great Awakening.

xi CHAPTER ONE: INTRODUCTION

America’s political and religious landscapes simultaneously underwent drastic changes in the early years of the republic. In the course of just one generation, the reins of political power shifted from a genteel, aristocratic elite to a common, democratic public; those who constituted religious establishments before the Revolution, Anglicans and Congregationalists, lost ground to religious groups never officially sponsored by any American government. Methodists, and, to a lesser extent, Presbyterians reigned supreme in the Jacksonian period. Not only did these evangelical Christians have numerical superiority, with their army of committed volunteers they exerted the greatest influence over America’s culture, habits, and institutions. And in the absence of a established by law, they turned early nineteenth century America into a Protestant evangelical empire.1 Yet success, as it so often does, came with potential perils. Just as the victorious Jeffersonians struggled to maintain their principles once in power, evangelicals faced a similar dilemma. Theirs was a more potent dilemma, however, because their success challenged the very essence of the Protestant tradition. originated as a protest movement challenging the existing religious authorities. It called people back to a more primitive and countercultural form of Christianity. Observing the lessons of history Protestants believed that the purity of the early church had been undermined more by Constantine’s establishment of Christianity as the Roman Empire’s religion than by anything else. Similarly, English Puritans believed that the Anglican Church suffered because of its tie to the monarchy and Massachusetts Baptists said the same of Congregationalism’s establishment in New England. In the Protestant mind, the Christian movement was threatened by establishment, and perhaps even by its own success. The writers instructing Christians to make disciples of all nations while remaining undefiled by the world may have unintentionally initiated this dilemma within Christianity; Christians were charged with the responsibility to save the world, but not to become worldly in their attempt. Protestants faced an additional tension. Wherever their movement succeeded and wherever Protestantism became the

1 dominant religion, they were no longer a movement. Instead, they became the establishment against which others would protest. Scholar Ernst Troeltsch noted this problem within Christianity and provided the vocabulary subsequent scholars have used to comment on this evolutionary process undergone by Christian groups. According to his model Christian groups start out as sects, evolve into denominations and may eventually become established churches. Sects are Christian groups at odds with the world around them. They are the financially marginal, the morally strict, the Christians who insist on purity, those who see themselves as the entire body of Christ and are antagonistic toward other religious bodies, and most of all, those who long for the peaceful kingdom of heaven and expect to find it nowhere else. Sects are generally led by ministers without formal training. Denominations, on the other hand, are those religious bodies which have an educated ministry, formalized conversions, more money, more prestige, and a more harmonious relationship with other religious groups. They emphasize Christian unity, often at the expense of purity, and they are quite comfortable in the world confident that they can establish a godly kingdom there.2 Theologian H. Richard Niebuhr elaborated on Troeltsch’s work and suggested that Christian groups always go through this “sect-denomination” process whereby religious bodies which come to dominate a culture become more settled, more complacent, more formal and more at home in the world causing new sects to emerge in opposition to them.3 Sociologists Roger Finke and Rodney Stark contributed an interesting addendum to this theory by suggesting that sects have always outperformed denominations in America’s free market religious economy. The rise of the Baptists and Methodists in the early nineteenth century serves as a prime example. According to Finke and Stark, these sectarian, otherworldly groups attracted more converts than their more established denominational counterparts precisely because they demanded more of converts making religious commitment more personal and genuine. Sectarian qualities among certain early nineteenth century evangelical groups attracted enough converts to make them the new dominant force in American religion.4 The rise of the evangelicals at this time was fostered by a complex religious movement which contemporary observers and modern historians have called the “Second Great Awakening.” Much like the designation “Progressive movement,” the “Second

2 Great Awakening” nearly defies definition because it refers to such a wide array of cultural and religious phenomena. Donald Mathews described it as “one of those happily vague generalizations which American historians use every now and again to describe a movement whose complexity eludes precision.”5 Practically everything related to evangelicals in the early nineteenth century must be explained as a cause or an effect of the Second Great Awakening. Yet, the name is still useful when its characterization is not oversimplified. Mindful of this danger and anxious to correct misconceptions of the awakening, the author presents the following by way of introduction. The Second Great Awakening was initiated by a series of religious revivals which swept much of the United States. It was so named because it was considered a sequel to the awakening started by George Whitefield and Jonathan Edwards in the 1740s, but it was no mirror reflection of its predecessor. Ministers of the Second Great Awakening were generally less Calvinistic than those of the first and they were more confident in people’s abilities. Not only could people make decisions independently which would grant them immediate conversion, according to these later revivalists, they could also actively plan and promote religious revivals, and establish reform societies whose purpose was to Christianize American society and hasten the advent of Christ’s millennial reign. Thus, ministers of the second awakening credited people with more ability, but burdened them with more responsibility. Many evangelicals accepted the challenge. They planned for and organized an almost unbroken series of revivals from the end of the eighteenth century to the early 1840s.6 They also filled the ranks of numerous moral and social reform societies trying to reshape American morals. In so doing, they often stepped beyond the realm of spiritual concern into the realm of secular politics. The efforts of some evangelicals to keep federal offices closed on Sundays, establish public schools for the promotion of morality, and abolish , for example, made their religious causes blend uniquely into secular politics. This was especially so in the Jacksonian period, when the expansion of voting rights and the establishment of a new legitimized party system increased political participation. Thus, out of the Second Great Awakening came the impulse among evangelical Christians to reform secular society making the American republic synonymous with the Kingdom of Christ.

3 Typical characterizations of the awakening stop there. They see the awakening as an attempt by evangelical Christians to assert their power and press for their agenda using social reform societies and the political process. They forget that the awakening was great, or general, and experienced differently by different Christian bodies each at different evolutionary stages of the sect-denomination process. Congregationalists were members of the most established denomination and the only one still supported by some state governments. They supported heady and dignified revivals which were theologically conservative, that is Calvinistic, but they were critical of wildly emotional and experimental revivals. As protectors of a divine covenant which they supposed covered spiritual as well as civil affairs, they supported social and moral reform efforts and ministers’ direct involvement in politics.7 The Presbyterians, who differed from the Congregationalists only in their ecclesiastical organization, had similar views on the awakening. They united with Congregationalists in missionary efforts, and together these groups were the greatest supporters of societies, tract societies, Sunday schools and the movement to protect the Sabbath. Their ambivalent attitude toward revivalism illustrates their own maturation in the sect-denomination process. After initiating the , perhaps the most famous of the awakening, they discouraged such emotional revivals and dismissed some who pursued them.8 They embraced frontier revivalist techniques only after they were popularized and dignified by Charles Finney.9 Maturing sects, like the Methodists and Baptists, were the greatest beneficiaries of the Second Great Awakening. These groups pioneered and perfected techniques to initiate revivals in the frontier west and attracted the largest number of converts. The secret to Methodist success was in their organization and their theology. Having hardy circuit riding ministers to service many congregations at once, they made the most of their limited fiscal and human resources. By using circuit riders and camp meetings Methodist ministers reached many more people than the settled ministers of other denominations. Their Arminian theology was also advantageous because it was attractive to frontier folk. Fiercely independent people making their own way in the wilderness had little use for a theology which taught that their fate was already determined; they embraced the Arminian theology of the Methodists which taught that salvation was a

4 matter of human choice. Although Baptists were Calvinists, their plain spoken, common ministers, connected with western audiences for similar success.10 Both Methodists and Baptists typified the western revivals, but they were not whole-hearted supporters of the religious and moral reform societies associated with the awakening. Methodists expressed concerns that Bible, tract and missionary societies, organizations which were supposed to be purely ecumenical, could be perverted for the purpose of spreading Calvinist doctrine. They preferred their own societies. Many Baptists, protective of strict congregational autonomy, likewise rejected missionary societies.11 Because they had battled against state sponsored churches in New England for so long, they opposed any encroachment by the churches into civil affairs.12 Although the northern wings of both of these groups expressed interest in social reforms, their southern branches had almost none. At least among the Methodists interest in social reforms increased as time passed as they grew out of their sectarianism into denominationalism.13 Then there were the emerging sects, new religious groups born during the awakening, who each had their own reactions to it. A group known various as Disciples of Christ, Churches of Christ, or simply, Christians, had mixed feelings about revivalism. One of their leaders, Barton Stone, whole-heartedly supported revivals after planning the one at Cane Ridge, but their other leader, Alexander Campbell, was a critical opponent of emotionally driven revivals. Both had serious reservations about political participation and involvement in social reforms. A group of pre-millennialists called the Millerites had similar reservations. Although many of them supported social reforms earlier, they withdrew from social reforms, politics and economic life altogether believing Christ’s return was imminent. They too were participants and promoters of some of the awakening’s biggest revivals. The Mormons and Hicksite Quakers emerged roughly in the same period. Neither were participants of revivals, but both were surrounded by and shaped by the Second Great Awakening. In their reactions against the awakening they expressed social views similar to their sectarian counterparts who at least nominally supported it. Studying the ways in which these sectarians experienced and reacted to the Second Great Awakening can shed light on the awakening and help scholars characterize it more richly.

5 The following dissertation proposes to do just that. It provides a richer characterization to the Second Great Awakening by focusing on religious groups and aspects of the awakening that are typically overlooked. It investigates these sectarians’ political, social and economic views during the awakening in order to correct the over- generalized notion that the awakening was a religious movement whose purpose was to enhance evangelicals’ influence on American culture through reform societies and aggressive political participation and to encourage and legitimate market capitalism. Such a notion has some validity when applied to denominations, but not to the sectarians. When one analyzes their political, social and economic views it becomes clear that many who participated in, or were influenced by the revivalism and reform tendencies of the awakening, washed their hands of secular political goals and strove instead to attain holiness and some degree of separation from secular society. Disciples/Christians, Millerites, Mormons, and Hicksites, each in different ways, sought to live in, but not of the world. Their unique responses to the three pillars of secularization - partisan politics, market capitalism, and evangelical secular reforms - suggest that the awakening was accompanied by another impulse, less pervasive, but just as real as the reform impulse. This other derivative of the awakening was an otherworldly outlook that led many to reject the political and economic realms of the secular world altogether. The fact that transcendentalists had a similar outlook suggests that the otherworldly impulse was present in intellectual circles as well as among the sects.14 Subsequent chapters will address the Christians/Disciples, Millerites, Mormons, Hicksites, and Transcendentalists in greater detail. Each chapter will summarize the group’s development, explain their relation to the Second Great Awakening, and demonstrate their otherworldly qualities in narrative form. They will also include an analysis of each group’s views on politics, social reform and economics. Before the heart of this dissertation can be addressed, however, a bit more introductory is necessary. The balance of this chapter will be devoted to the historiography of the Second Great Awakening and the political culture in which it emerged. It will also suggest some ways in which evangelicals expressed otherworldly views. Although a more thorough treatment of the evangelicals, like those found in subsequent chapters, would be helpful, it is not practical. The space needed to

6 summarize Presbyterian, Methodist and Baptist history and then to analyze thoroughly each group’s views on politics, social reform and economics would be mammoth. It would also distract from this work’s focus on sectarians. Thus, a few examples will have to suffice to suggest that an otherworldly, sectarian spirit was still present among the evangelicals. The Second Great Awakening resembles the Progressive movement in its ability to elude historians’ simple interpretations, but unlike the Progressive movement, the Second Great Awakening lacks an interpretive synthesis of the movement’s entirety. Historians have focused on its manifestations in local areas, its theology, its leaders, or its unifying and divisive affects, but none has pulled all available scholarship together to fully characterize the movement.15 Despite this scholarly void, historians long perpetuated a consistent and oversimplified version of the movement. According to this tradition the awakening emerged in New England in response to a lull in religious fervor, the dominance of secular rationalism and the prospect of religious disestablishment. Deists threatened to supplant the religious heritage of Puritan New England until Timothy Dwight, the grandson of Jonathan Edwards, became President of Yale University in 1795. Dwight renewed his region’s covenant relationship with God, squelched the Deists and brought about a renewal of religious vigor, so the story goes. Local revivals, led primarily by Dwight’s students at Yale, grew into a general awakening spanning all parts of the young republic. As the awakening moved westward, the frontier played a major role in its expression. Essentially, two distinct styles of revival emerged, one in the east and one in the west. In the East, Congregationalists and Presbyterians led by ministers like Asahel Nettleton and Lyman Beecher carried on quiet revivals appealing to the head as well as the heart. In the West, backwoods commoners were drawn to the wild camp revivals of the Methodists and Baptists which served as a means to tame the region.16 In the 1820s, Charles Finney helped bridge the gap between the two sets of revivals by bringing the wilder frontier style to the eastern cities and by delivering a death blow to .17 The awakening resulted in a renewed commitment to Christianity manifested in efforts to spread the gospel to others through various societies that coordinated missionary efforts, the distribution of Bible and religious tracts, and the establishment of Sunday schools. Evangelicals moved by the awakening also created

7 organizations to promote temperance, morality, peace, prison and slavery reform, and the protection of the Sabbath. In the absence of religious establishment, some have argued, ministers used these societies along with political pressure to create an evangelical empire asserting control over Americans’ behavior.18 An addendum to this consensus interpretation was the idea that the Second Great Awakening was primarily characterized by ministers’ efforts to reform morality, through moral suasion or legislation, in order to assert control over America’s citizens and culture. Scholars first articulated this “social control” thesis in the 1950s and 1960s, an ideal time for such an interpretation. Evangelicals in post-war America had renewed influence over American culture and politics thanks to the mass revival techniques of Billy Graham, the unification of American culture against atheistic communism, and the prevalence of civil religion. “Born again” Christianity embedded itself in America’s institutions. At the same time, intellectuals challenged America’s institutions and its mass culture which overwhelmed individualism. Naturally, post-war scholars were interested in the history of revivalism and the past efforts of evangelicals to shape American culture. In the Second Great Awakening they found manipulative and politically minded ministers not unlike their contemporaries who had great political and cultural influence. John Bodo decried the “theocratic” northern clergy who continued to see themselves as the keepers of a covenant between the civil government and God.19 Charles Cole similarly noted that northern clergymen turned their attention increasingly to politics and social reform trying to control the public’s eating, drinking and sexual habits after Charles Finney started his itinerant ministry.20 Timothy Smith attributed the social control efforts to the prevalence of post-millennialism which encouraged evangelicals to strive toward the creation of God’s kingdom on earth. Smith was not too critical of ministers involved in social reforms, but Clifford Griffin’s analysis of clergymen, or “moral stewards” was most unflattering. “Between birth and death,” he asserted, “the societies’ officers hoped to impose on the turbulent American people a set of ideas which, the trustees felt, but few held.” Griffin found evangelical ministers not only hungry for political power and economic stability, but morally insincere.21 The social control thesis was effectively challenged on two fronts. The first was geographical. Histories of southern and western religion did not harmonize with the

8 social control thesis. Too often these regions were overlooked by scholars causing them to present a distorted characterization of the awakening in general.22 The dominant religious groups there, Methodists and Baptists, always supported the disestablishment of churches by law. Their ministers had no status to protect; they were poorly paid if paid at all. They often discouraged political participation, denounced materialism and encouraged the rejection of all worldly things. Congregationalist ministers in New England may have initiated revivals and pushed moral reforms because of their apprehensions of religious disestablishment, Jeffersonian dominance and their own waning influence, but ministers outside of that covenanted province were not social controllers. Certainly they exerted a great deal of influence over their regions, but their motives were not primarily political, social or economic.23 Others still focusing on the north challenged the social control thesis by suggesting that ministers were motivated by spiritual, not political and social goals. Lois Banner dismantled the social control interpretation by demonstrating that many evangelicals had no interest in political power or connecting churches with civil authorities. Presbyterians headed the American Bible Society and American Sunday School Union and, Banner points out, they had always favored the disestablishment of churches.24 The self-sacrifice necessary for missionary life could hardly be described as sinister and even Charles Finney gave missionary work priority over social reform.25 Banner found that the social control thesis was especially inappropriate for Methodists who preached non-political and discouraged involvement in partisan politics until they become a more settled body. She suggested that scholars must consider denominational differences, or rather their place in the sect-denomination process when explaining evangelicals’ benevolence.26 In response to the charge that evangelicals were in cahoots with market capitalists, Banner pointed out that they challenged materialism.27 James Moorhead similarly challenged the social control thesis by describing the “divided mind” within Protestantism and the person of Charles Finney. According to Moorhead, Finney tempered his enthusiasm for reform with an insistence that it be motivated purely with inward conviction. While Finney encouraged Christian activism in the social and political world, he considered the conversion of individual sinners a greater calling. If

9 the foundation for social reform was individual conversion, as Moorhead suggested, Finney and company were more interested in saving souls than controlling social habits.28 Since these challenges were brought to the fore the social control thesis lost much of its appeal, but neither it nor related interpretations of the awakening were completely supplanted. Nearly all of the original social control theorists had their books republished in the two decades following their original introduction.29 They also found kindred minds among several modern scholars interested in evangelicals’ social and political involvement. These scholars are not as critical of evangelicals as Clifford Griffin was, but they describe the awakening as something primarily characterized by social and political mobilization.30 In A Shopkeeper’s Millennium, Paul Johnson argued that the awakening was inspired by economic issues; it was driven by middle class entrepreneurs hoping to encourage moral habits among laborers that were also good for business. His interpretation of Finney’s revivals along the Erie Canal is now a classic.31 Another classic of Second Great Awakening historiography is Donald Mathews’ article, “The Second Great Awakening as an Organizing Process, 1780-1830: An Hypothesis.” This article has probably inspired both the supporters and opponents of the social control thesis. Because Mathews argued that organization, rather than revival, was the distinguishing innovation of the Second Great Awakening, many scholars have focused on evangelicals’ reform social and political organization as the key characteristics of the awakening.32 However, because he suggested that more attention be focused on Methodists and Baptists outside of New England, scholars have found ample reason to doubt the applicability of the social control thesis generally.33 Similarly, the long standing argument that the awakening was a response to unstable social circumstances created by the market revolution and the rootless nature of mobile Americans everywhere, has come under attack by those focusing on the awakening elsewhere.34 Terry Bilhartz and others assert that the revivals came to those who proactively planned for them, not simply where social anxiety was highest.35 This dissertation attempts to follow another of Mathews’ suggestions which has not been adequately followed; that is, to study the Second Great Awakening as a movement. The size of this organic and evolving religious movement did not make it impenetrable to the same forces that act upon the movements of individual religious

10 bodies. It too underwent a sort of sect-denomination process starting in the early nineteenth century as a series of revivals focused on the conversion of sinners and developing a host of reform organizations decades later. It had characteristics and stages that were sectarian and others that were denominational in nature. It simultaneously inspired social and political activism in some while encouraging others to focus exclusively on salvation in the next life. This study does not address or pretend to resolve all of the scholarly problems still faced by historians of the awakening, but it does cast serious doubt on some longstanding notions of the movement. Neither the social control thesis nor the reform impulse is adequate to interpret sectarians’ response to the awakening. If evangelicals were more politically involved in this period one must look not just to the Second Great Awakening, but also to political developments for an explanation. The antebellum period was characterized by democratization and an expanded electorate. The American republic conceived by the Revolutionary generation was one in which talented men above self interest represented the selfish and less informed masses. At least, that was the ideal. In the Jacksonian period, the 1820s, 1830s and 1840s, the republican ideal became much more democratic. Social equality was praised as a virtue and expected in the people’s representatives. When Andrew Jackson and later William Henry Harrison were elected presidents of the US the highest qualification for public office was being a common man of the people. The elimination of property restrictions on voting made the impact of the egalitarian ethos felt in the electoral process. It also opened the door for more political participation from Americans generally, not just evangelicals. Greater participation accompanied wider opportunity, not waning religious influence. According to Nathan Hatch, evangelicals initiated America’s “democratization” through the revivals, teachings, and reform activities of the Second Great Awakening. By making salvation a matter of human choice and not divine prerogative, evangelicals showed great faith in human capacity. They also did so by using uneducated ministers, and insisting that common people could read and understand scripture without theological training. Hatch effectively argued that the Second Great Awakening was not a conservative reaction against church disestablishment, democracy, or other unsettling

11 social changes; it was the most democratic movement of the post-Revolutionary period.36 Many of the evangelicals on which Hatch focused viewed politics as a distraction from more important religious matters.37 It was not simply repulsion to civic affairs that kept many evangelicals away from politics, but their opposition to partisanship. In the Jacksonian period, in became clear that political parties had become a permanent fixture in American politics. The Revolutionary generation denounced partisanship, but created America’s first party system. A generation later American politics was dominated by a second party system with Democrats on one side and Whigs on the other. Because partisan political rallies often displayed the enthusiasm, disorder, and rowdiness of camp meetings without any of its redeeming qualities, many evangelicals cautioned against identification with either party.38 Because evangelicals placed primacy on the act and will of individuals, they were often uncomfortable surrendering their individual consciences to a party platform. Sectarian evangelicals were even more apprehensive. Just as they rejected the religious of denominations, they rejected party platforms. According to Ronald Formisano, the permanence of parties resembled established churches in Massachusetts.39 While this may have encouraged Congregationalist clergymen to accept political parties, it had the opposite effect on sectarians who thus rejected both compromised institutions. Maturing sects like Methodists and Baptists shared many of these anti-partisan sentiments. Yet, both parties had characteristics and stood for issues that appealed to many evangelicals. Whigs were generally nationalists convinced that the success of the republic depended on the morals of its citizens and the prosperity of the nation both of which could be promoted by the federal government. They supported the Bank of the United States and internal improvements projects as means of advancing and coordinating economic activities even if these gave some private interests advantages. They also supported efforts to end alcohol abuse, protect the Sabbath, promote morality through public education, and eventually end slavery. Opponents viewed their efforts as meddlesome, but Whigs encouraged self control more than social control.40 Many evangelicals interested in public morality identified with the Whigs. While Whigs politicized moral issues, Democrats moralized political issues.41 They decried what they perceived to be an unholy union between the federal government and private business

12 interests. They denounced the Bank and discouraged federal expenditures and debt as revivalists spoke of sin. Rather than promoting public morality and particular business interests, Democrats preferred that the government leave individuals alone. Their individualism and persona as outsiders made them appealing to certain evangelicals as well.42 Historians have tried to locate evangelicals’ party loyalties for some time. After Arthur Schlesinger, an historian of the progressive school, glossed over Jacksonian politics and divided groups clearly along class lines, with the “haves” in the Whig camp and the “have nots” with the Democrats, Lee Benson and Ronald Formisano suggested that ethnic and religious affiliations, not class distinctions, were the best indicators of party membership. They argued along with others that the Whig party was primarily the home of Congregationalists, Presbyterians, Pietists, and northern evangelicals while the Democrats attracted Catholics, southern evangelicals and free thinkers.43 Although Benson and his followers were careful not to suggest that party lines and denominational lines were parallel, or that religious affiliations were the only factor in determining political affiliation, a group of detractors argued that Benson’s “ethno-cultural” interpretation was too narrow; it merely substituted religious determinism for economic determinism in party formation.44 The recent resurgence of class based, Marxist explanations of the Jacksonian period also challenged Benson’s “ethno-cultural” school.45 This work is only tangentially related to the debate over the formation of political parties. It is concerned with sectarians’ political attitudes and activities, but without statistically analysis of their voting patterns it cannot contribute to this debate. However, by studying the ideas expressed by each group’s leaders one can see how they felt about each party’s platform. According to the “ethno-cultural” interpretation, the Second Great Awakening was primarily a Whig movement. More thorough analysis of sectarians’ political views, however, shows that they were just as likely to be Democrats if they participated politically at all. Evangelicals in general were perhaps not as politically driven or as easy to place politically as scholars have suggested. There were certainly many who believed that it was the duty of all Christians to elect good men to office and to use legislation and voluntary societies to elevate morality. Examples of this mentality abound in Lyman

13 Beecher’s reform sermons, Charles Finney’s doctrine of perfectionism, Ezra Stiles Ely’s call for a Christian political party, and a multiplicity of evangelical journals encouraging political activism and social reform. And all of these have been used as evidence of the awakening’s reform impulse. Even publications critical of the awakening’s revivals and reforms, like Protestant Jesuitism, suggest the prevalence of a politicized clergy interested in social reform. However, evangelicals also expressed otherworldly attitudes which have often been ignored by scholars. A few examples of this mentality will conclude this introductory chapter. First, one can observe otherworldliness in the individual most associated with the Second Great Awakening. Charles Finney who inspired a merchant class revival in New York and encouraged an army of evangelical volunteers to reshape their society also warned Christians of worldliness. He hoped Christians would have “victory over the world,” but in his with that title he described that victory, not as something achieved through politics or reform, but as “rising above [the world’s] engrossments.” A number of worldly things distracted Christians’ higher thoughts and impeded their ultimate victory, Finney said. “One is swallowed up with study, another with politics, a third with money getting and a fourth perhaps with fashion and with pleasure; but each in his own way makes earthly good the all-engrossing object.”46 In a similar sermon Finney condemned the “love of the world.” Those who were more concerned with their business interests, civil affairs, or secular news than the spread of the gospel, Finney charged with loving the world.47 Finney condemned not only unscrupulous business practices, but also horded wealth. Wealthy and devout characters from the Old Testament like Abraham and Job, he asserted, were not given the responsibility to preach to all.48 Since God now commissioned all Christians to spread the word, Finney believed they must do so fully using all of their resources and not being hindered by worldly interests. Other evangelicals similarly noted the adverse effects money had on religion. Presbyterian William Sprague said that greed and the desire for wealth were among the obstacles to genuine revivalism.49 The Methodist journal Christian Advocate praised attendees who were “bold enough to leave the world for a season and God in the ‘feast of tabernacles.’”50 Their willingness to leave financial concerns behind earned them praise. Circuit riders deserved even more accolades in this

14 respect for exchanging any sense of security for a rugged itinerant lifestyle largely dependent on others’ charity. James Finley lamented the death of a fellow circuit rider saying that the “mammon loving world” was unworthy of him.51 The founder of , John Wesley, noted that riches and religion were inversely related; where one increased, the other decreased. He was also concerned that Christians could become wealthy through the application of Christian principles and that wealth could bring worldliness to the formerly righteous individual. Antebellum Methodists shared his view and encouraged others to give all they had for the cause of Christianity.52 According to this mentality, financial prosperity weakened religious devotion. So did institutional development, according to circuit rider Peter Cartwright. He provides yet another example of otherworldliness among evangelicals. In his autobiography, which was written primarily to instruct and inspire younger Methodists, he expressed concern for the state of the Methodist church. To him it seemed that the Methodists were getting weaker spiritually as they were becoming wealthier and more institutionalized. When he started as a circuit rider in the early nineteenth century the perils of the wilderness were much greater than they were by mid-century. He reminded his readers that early Methodism had no Bible and tract societies to help their , no Sunday schools, colleges, and seminaries to help train their ministers, and no pewed churches or musical instruments to make their assemblies comfortable or elegant. Yet without these, Cartwright believed Methodists had been stronger.53 In their more educated, wealthy and institutional phase they had seen all but the last of their great camp meetings.54 Although Cartwright’s comments predated Ernst Troeltsch’s scholarship and Niebuhr’s theology, he essentially described and lamented the sect-to-denomination process within the Methodist church.55 Another Methodist circuit rider expressed similar sentiments in his frontier based autobiography. James Finley described his battles on behalf of temperance without the aid of a temperance society.56 Like Cartwright, he believed that education and reform societies, although beneficial, could undermine genuine religion. The backwoods Christian is shut up to his Bible, and I have wondered if the great multitude of books has not had a deleterious tendency, in diverting the mind from the Bible; just as the multiplicity of benevolent associations has a tendency to divert the mind from the church. This should not be; and in fact, there is no

15 necessity for it, for there is room for all good books and good associations, as auxiliaries.57 Finley seemed to prefer the primitive, simple and sectarian state of the church, when it had to take on an untamed frontier and unrepentant hearts. He favored the church in both a figurative and literal wilderness where he believed religion was most genuine. Anticipating transcendentalism he noted, “Alone in the deep solitude of the wilderness man can commune with himself and Nature and her God, and realize emotions and thoughts that the crowded city never can produce.”58 Hesitancy against reform societies and preference for individual action was confined neither to frontier ministers nor to the Methodists. Francis Wayland, a New England Baptist , criticized voluntary associations on a number of points. First, he charged that the societies placed too much emphasis on raising money, making collectors and not evangelists the most important members.59 Next, he said that societies tended to diminish individual responsibility and weakened the personal connection between the giver and receiver of benevolence.60 Through reform societies Christians could help the poor, minister to souls in prison, spread the gospel of Jesus, and attack social sins all without personally going into “the world;” their donations or pledge to the society’s sentiments were the only commitments required. And what if an individual did not agree entirely with a society’s goals or methods? Wayland argued that it was the individual’s responsibility to withdraw from the society because membership meant wholehearted submission to the society and guilt was associational.61 As a Baptist believer in the strict separation between church and states, it also concerned Wayland that reform societies could be tempted to mix with politics. Majorities ruled in civil affairs, but morality was dictated by individual conscience. According to Wayland, religious associations threatened individual’s morals and religion by shouldering responsibilities that God squarely placed on individuals.62 Calvin Colton articulated many of Wayland’s concerns in one of the most famous critiques of the Second Great Awakening’s associations, Protestant Jesuitism. Colton criticized moral reform societies by showing their Catholic tendencies. He was not rabidly anti-Catholic; he discouraged the spread of sensational tales of priests like Maria Monk’s Awful Disclosures. But he did think the Catholic Church, though well intentioned, had minimized individual responsibility and Protestant moral reform

16 societies had done the same.63 He believed that the primitive and simple institution of the church was sufficient to address people’s spiritual needs. Even if auxiliary societies were popular, expedient and successful, Colton preferred the divinely established and steady operation of the church. “The church may be slow,” he commented, “but it is more sure.”64 People were not trustworthy enough, according to Colton, for them to be given such great responsibilities and resources outside of the church’s guidance. Neither should “the corrective influence of Christianity” be forced upon people by the law or by social pressure. Colton maintained that temptations to power corrupted reform societies.65 Furthermore, he did not always agree with their goals. Temperance societies in particular irritated Colton because they bound people to a pledge of abstinence that neither Christ nor the apostles kept.66 Although Calvin Colton was an opponent of the associational aspects of the Second Great Awakening, he was a defender of its revivals. Liturgical and rational religious movements obviously opposed the emotionally charged revivals outright, but evangelicals were torn.67 Some said they were genuine works of God’s spirit and others said they were Satan’s instruments of division and disruption. Presbyterians were particularly divided on the issue. Along with William Sprague, Colton served as a moderate voice in the evangelical debate over revivals. While both men admitted that revivals were excessive at times, they defended genuine revivals even if they were the results of human efforts.68 Debates over revivals and those over reform societies were internal debates; they were not simply conversations with evangelicals on one side and non-evangelicals on the other. Evangelicals were engaged in debates with other evangelicals on the proper role of Christians in the world. Many evangelicals, notably Lyman Beecher, argued that Christians had a duty to elect Christian leaders to public office.69 Others complained that Beecher was overly involved in politics and warned that the political church was the enemy of pure Christianity.70 Beecher and the advocates of associational reform defended the motives, methods and goals of reform societies.71 Other evangelicals questioned reform societies on all three counts.72 Some promoted moral reforms as a means of social mobility; others condemned the pursuit of wealth.73 In order to secure the religious and civil prosperity of the nation Lyman Beecher argued that reform

17 societies along with learned ministers and a permanent system of education were necessary.74 Others thought the church was purer in its primitive state characterized by alienation from the world and led by undistinguished ministers.75 Too often historians of the Second Great Awakening have treated evangelicals as a singular force. The temptation to see them as such exists because they were the leaders, participants and beneficiaries of the awakening. However, among their number were also critics of revivalism and associational reform. Evangelicals were too varied and from too many different theological and ecclesiastical backgrounds to have a singular response to the awakening. The awakening sparked conversation among them on a number of issues. Further investigation into these conversations would probably bring to light an otherworldly tendency among them which has often been overlooked, especially among the maturing sects. The rest of this dissertation focuses on other participants in the conversation, the emerging sects. Their voices make it clear that the Second Great Awakening inspired otherworldliness as well as reform.

18 CHAPTER TWO: THE CHRISTIANS AND DISCIPLES

Or don’t you know that all of us who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? We were therefore buried with him through into death in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, we too may live a new life. Romans 6:3, 4

Since, then, you have been raised with Christ, set your hearts on things above where Christ is seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things. Colossians 3:1, 2

Of all the sectarian groups to emerge in the Jacksonian period, perhaps none better exemplified the rising faith in the common man than those who collectively called themselves the Disciples of Christ, or simply Christians.1 This body of believers, led by men such as Alexander Campbell, Barton W. Stone, and others, were fully confident in people’s ability to understand the scriptures without specialized training or the aid of religious authorities. Their reading of those scriptures also convinced them that God’s church was to be strictly congregational and autonomous at the local level. In these respects they were the religious expression of individualism, among the most pervasive aspects of American culture in the Jacksonian period.2 These Christians also shared an anti-historical attitude with Americans in general. Much as the American nation considered itself free of old world evils and its historical influence, many Christians considered themselves uninfluenced by history, even the Protestant Reformation, in their efforts to restore the first century church.3 Thus, one might rightly say that Christians theologically constituted a truly American religious movement. Yet, this is only partly true. For the religious devotees insistent on “reviving the ancient gospel” rejected much of what constituted early nineteenth century American society.4 Their “historylessness” in some ways placed them self consciously outside of American history and culture as well. Like their evangelical neighbors, they battled immorality on the western frontier and the rationalized religion of the East, but their enemies were not simply those outside of the rising evangelical Christian sphere. They also found fault with many of the practices and beliefs of those in the “denominational world,” a realm from which they considered themselves completely alienated. They

19 preached and published not only against the vices of worldly temptations, but also against clerical authority, church hierarchy, denominational divisiveness, the infrequency of taking the Lord’s Supper, and common understandings of baptism among other evangelicals. Outside of theological and doctrinal differences, Restoration Christians found fault with most of the social crusades of the wider evangelical empire. Despite their optimism about individuals’ abilities to understand the scriptures, they were not united supporters of Bible societies. Neither were they advocates of missionary societies initially. Rather, they were suspicious of denominational and financial purposes within such bodies. Many found these organizations unauthorized since they were not explicitly called for in scripture. This attack they frequently launched against temperance societies as well. If they were cool toward these reform societies whose goals they shared, they were outright opponents of the Sabbatarian movement and most other such efforts by Christians to use legislation toward religious ends. In other words, the moral reform movements so frequently associated with the Second Great Awakening found little appreciation among this religious body that was itself a product of that awakening.5 Because of their peculiarities, Restoration Christians constituted what Ernst Troeltsch called a sect, rather than a church, or denomination.6 Typical of sects, Christians assumed an otherworldly perspective on life, choosing to focus their attention on the things of the spirit, including devotional life, doctrinal and behavioral purity, and evangelism rather than such secular concerns as politics, economics, and social reforms. Their congregational discipline holding members to strict standards of behavior and the common perception among them that they alone constituted the church qualified them as sectarians as well. The leaders and laymen of the Restoration Movement exhibited many of the characteristics that have distinguished religious sectarians from churches, or denominations, throughout the history of Christendom. However, they stood out among the other sects of their period in at least two significant ways. First, more than the leaders of other sectarian groups, restoration leaders were well educated.7 The four most important initial leaders, Barton Stone, , and Thomas and Alexander Campbell, all had college educations. The latter three had been trained in Scotland’s

20 most prestigious universities, among the world’s finest at the time. In addition to being ministers, lecturers, and publishers, they were equally known as educators, the founders of various academies and colleges. Their considerable degree of education helps explain the other way in which they were unique among sectarians. With the partial exception of Stone, they were rationalists suspicious of emotion in religious expression.8 (Stone was also a rationalist suspicious of religious emotionalism, but his support of revivals outweighed his suspicion.) Restoration Christians, then, were naturally and consciously alienated from both the rising evangelical movement and other sectarians. Yet, perhaps more than they realized, they were part of a significant trend common in American religion at the time of the Second Great Awakening -- the impulse to stay aloof from perceived worldliness. Like several other religious groups of the early nineteenth century, restoration Christians spoke out against the secularizing tendencies of politics, reform movements, and the market economy. In hindsight, they did so with good cause since these in part were responsible for the eventual division of their movement. The remainder of this chapter is an examination of the two principle leaders of the Restoration Movement, Barton W. Stone and Alexander Campbell, and their respective views of partisan politics, reform movements, and the market revolution. Obviously some of the complexity and plurality of the Restoration Movement is lost when the thoughts of only two men are examined. However, there is reason to take such an approach. Not only were these men the most influential leaders of the movement, they were the authors of publications which were essentially the mouthpiece of Restoration Christians for many years. More importantly, the minds of Stone and Campbell encompass most of the varied reactions individual Restorationists had toward society’s secularization. The social thought of restoration Christians generally varied, mixed or mirrored the thoughts of these men. Thus, readers will not simply be introduced to two individuals, but to two types of early nineteenth century Restoration Christian, and from each of type they will discover the varying degrees in which Restorationists sought alienation from “the world.”

21 Barton Warren Stone (1772-1844) was strongly influenced by the spirit of freedom fostered by the American Revolution and the pietistic religiosity of both Great Awakenings. Growing up in revolutionary Maryland and he “drank deeply of the spirit of liberty,” a fact that no doubt shaped his later role as the leader of a revolutionary and freedom loving religious movement.9 But it was not until 1790, when he studied at David Caldwell’s “log college” in Guilford, , an institution shaped by the Great Awakening’s late ripples in the South, that religion became the shaping factor in his life. His former grade school training had been based almost solely on the Bible leaving him in want of variety for intellectual stimulation and leading him to read, as he would later admit, “such trash” as he could obtain.10 Although Stone had the misfortune of never knowing his father who died while Barton was an infant, he relished the freedom afforded him by the division of his father’s estate when he was fifteen years old. With his share of the inheritance and the support of his mother and older brothers, he resolutely set his sights on obtaining a liberal arts education at Caldwell’s school and, by doing so, he hoped to enjoy the blessings financial prosperity could afford.11 Thus, with his academic and worldly interests far outweighing those of a religious and spiritual nature, Barton Stone entered Caldwell’s “log college” having no idea that the two would clash and force him to choose between them. Right away, despite his disciplined devotion to his studies, Stone felt that the academic atmosphere was compromised by the religious excitement spurred on by James McGready’s revivalist preaching in Guilford. Many of his classmates, filled with pietistic zeal, met regularly for prayer and singing early in the mornings before classes commenced. Troubled by this, Stone decided to transfer to the Hampden-Sydney College in Virginia, but was delayed by a storm. As it turned out, this natural force had seemingly supernatural consequences, according to Stone’s recollection of events. With his bags packed and no place to go, he saw no harm in accompanying his roommate to hear a minister preach. The minister was McGready and his emphasis on salvation awakened Stone’s interest in becoming a Christian and caused a soul searching battle within his mind. While he contemplated embracing Christianity he believed that such a decision would come at the expense of his family’s blessing, wealth and “worldly honor,” things he was not keen on sacrificing. Seeing worldly and heavenly pursuits as incompatible, he made his decision. “After due

22 deliberation, I resolved from that hour forward to seek religion at the sacrifice of every earthly good, and immediately prostrate myself before God in supplication for mercy.”12 However, this was only the beginning of Stone’s spiritual journey, one that would often reinforce his perception of being an “alien in the world.” For the next few years, Stone struggled to harmonize the Calvinist doctrines of election and limited atonement with his own reading of the scriptures and the pervasive spirit of liberty. McGready’s message had influenced him, but it was not until hearing William Hodge’s sermon, “God is Love,” in 1791 that Stone’s despair over his own salvation left him. Stone not only converted to Christianity afterward, he devoted his energies to becoming a minister of the gospel. As a ministerial candidate of the Presbyterian Church in Orange County, North Carolina in 1793, he struggled to deliver a sermon on his assigned topic, the trinity, another theological concept that conflicted with his own reading of the Bible. In frustration, Stone settled for a teaching position at a Methodist Academy in Georgia, but he returned to North Carolina in 1796 and received his license to preach. Like many others of his time pursuing their own dreams, Stone headed west. His preaching at the Cane Ridge and Concord churches in ’s Bourbon County won the approval of their members who invited him to be their minister in 1798.13 When asked by the Presbytery, who were overseeing his ordination as a minister, if he accepted the Confession of Faith, he answered, “I do, as far as I see it consistent with the word of God.”14 This qualified acceptance of the was sufficient for the Presbytery and Stone was in position to make history as the organizer of the Cane Ridge revival. Those first years in Kentucky did not bode revivalist success, however. Stone’s interest in saving sinners from what he considered “the ruined world,” and his many sermons against striving for earthly wealth did not easily overwhelm many frontiersmen’s preoccupation in worldly affairs.15 His continual prayers for revival were seemingly answered, however, when he heard of the communion services in neighboring counties that attracted large crowds in June of 1800.16 Leading these early revivals was James McGready, and once again, Stone’s life was shaped by contact with him. Witnessing the excitement of the Logan County communion service and camp meeting, Stone decided to organize and advertise his own service at Cane Ridge.17 However, no amount of planning could have prepared Stone for the numbers of people who attended

23 the Cane Ridge camp meeting, or the degree of religious enthusiasm they displayed. An estimated 20,000 people came to Cane Ridge during the six day camp meeting in August 1801.18 Some came to hear the ministers of various denominations preach at various corners of the camp grounds, to sing hymns of praise, to fellowship with fellow believers, and to partake in the communion service on Sunday, while others came to scoff at the proceedings, or simply to witness the unusual physical behaviors participants displayed when moved by the spirit. Many fell, jerked, barked and laughed involuntarily, even some who had been skeptics.19 Such religious enthusiasm convinced many that a new age had dawned, perhaps the millennial reign of Christ. While present purposes preclude an investigation into the various explanations scholars have offered for the origins of the Cane Ridge revival, a few of its results should be mentioned, especially those relating to Barton Stone.20 First, Cane Ridge intensified the conflict within New Light Presbyterians’ minds which constantly strove to harmonize the idea of a loving God and the Calvinist doctrine of election.21 Some New Light evangelists, like James McGready, still held to Calvinist doctrine insisting that individuals were condemned unless, through God’s grace, they had been granted faith. McGready believed that by exposing sinners to sermons, prayers, and scripture reading, all of which were the means by which grace could be imparted, God’s spirit might awaken some of them for a short time. The sinners’ awakening created a window of opportunity during which they would have to come to Christ before their awakened state passed along with any hopes of salvation. Thus, McGready still held to the Calvinistic notion of election while he justified the urgent need for revival preaching. Stone, on the other hand, became convinced that the Calvinist doctrine of election was wrong. After Cane Ridge, he believed that people were condemned because of their refusal to believe, not God’s refusal to grant them faith. Further, he came to see faith as the intellectual act of believing, not the moral act of coming to Christ. Stone saw faith as a gift from God only in the respect that it came as a result of God’s testimony.22 Next, the emotional outbursts at Cane Ridge became the subject of ridicule and suspicion among many believers, including Presbyterians who had not forgotten the excesses of John Davenport in the First Awakening. As the primary planner of the revival and a defender of its physical exercises, Stone became associated with revival excess too.23 Although Stone

24 was never fully comfortable with the emotionalism displayed at Cane Ridge, he was convinced that it was nothing less than God’s spirit working through those believing God’s testimony.24 His emphasis on the work of the spirit to bring about conversion independent of scripture was later a significant difference between his own beliefs and Alexander Campbell’s.25 Finally, Stone was most moved by the coming together of Christians from many denominations at Cane Ridge. Thus, to Stone, and many other witnesses of western revivals, a new age had dawned in which Calvinism was no longer supreme, the beginning of Christ’s millennial reign seemed imminent, and the prospect of Christian unity was strong. The Cane Ridge revival, like the Second Great Awakening as a whole, brought division as well as unity. This was especially true for Kentucky Presbyterians, many of whom were quite uncomfortable with the emotional outbursts of Cane Ridge. More importantly, they feared that revivalists in Stone’s circle were preaching . Robert McNemar, an associate of Stone, was accused of such teachings by the Washington Presbytery, but they gave him no formal reprimand. The governing Kentucky Synod, however, censured the presbytery for not acting against McNemar. Since disciplinary action was usually the business of the local presbytery, Stone and other revivalists petitioned on McNemar’s behalf. Because they supported a man who opposed the Westminster Confession they were dismissed from the presbytery.26 Stone quickly pointed out that his own dismissal was unfair since he had never fully accepted this confession of faith.27 The dismissed ministers took the liberty to form their own governing body, the in 1803.28 The freedom represented by creating a new presbytery may have seemed remarkable to people unfamiliar with American religious liberty, but the voluntary dismantling of this growing body demonstrated a degree of autonomy surprising even on the American scene. On June 28, 1804, Stone and five others signed “The Last Will and Testament of the Springfield Presbytery,” a document that condemned all creeds, religious governing bodies, and clerical titles of distinction in favor of congregational autonomy and Christian unity based solely on the scriptures. After only a year of existence, the Springfield Presbytery willed itself to die because its ministers were increasingly convinced that manmade creeds and governing bodies had perverted the

25 simple primitive form of church government described in the New Testament. The Springfield Presbytery’s “Observation on Church Government” articulated their objections to humankind’s “mending what they supposed God had left imperfect…” by saying, “They have changed or amended, added or diminished, as times and circumstances made necessary, till at length the church has become everything, or anything, but what it should be.”29 Convinced as they were that human invention had fostered a spirit of division, these ministers could not, with clean consciences, continue to support the religious body they had created. They also opted against denominational names that indicated divisiveness when they decided simply to take the name “Christian.”30 They found it proper to admonish other religious bodies to follow in their steps. Among the admonitions the Springfield Presbytery offered, one was directed satirically at their former governing body. “We will that the Synod of Kentucky examine every member, who may be suspected of having parted from the Confession of Faith, and suspend every such suspected heretic immediately in order that the oppressed may go free, and taste the sweets of gospel liberty.”31 In an even broader statement supporting congregational autonomy and individual conscience these revivalist ministers closed by saying, “Finally, we will, that all our sister bodies read their carefully, that they may see their fate there determined, and prepare for death before it is too late.”32 The signers of this document, however, did not stay united for long. “As early as 1805 McNemar and [John] Dunlavy and several families joined the Shakers when they invaded Kentucky” and “then in 1811 [Robert] Marshall and [John] Thompson repudiated their ‘errors’ and returned to the Presbyterians.”33 This left only Barton Stone and following the path laid out in the “Last Will and Testament.” Ronald Byers points out interestingly, and not a little ironically, that Stone was now in the position that the Kentucky Synod had been in just a few years prior. He was now a defender of the faith, a more conservative protector of doctrine.34 Although the doctrines of which he was now a defender were the principles of unity and freedom of opinion, even his liberal spirit could not tolerate defection to the Shakers or reunion with the Presbyterians. Thus, Stone’s efforts to promote both individual liberty and a certain degree of doctrinal conformity among believers illustrate a perpetual problem among Christians -- the conflict between unity and purity.35

26

While Stone’s spiritual journey led him away from Calvinist doctrine, away from the authority of religious governing bodies, and in search of Christian unity and primitivism, a pair of Scotch-Irish immigrants was traveling a similar path. Thomas Campbell (1763-1854) and his eldest son, Alexander (1788-1866), led a slightly larger body of followers dedicated to the unity of all Christians based on strict adherence to the New Testament, where they believed the doctrinal and organizational patterns of the Christian Church were established. Like Stone, the Campbells eventually abandoned Calvinist theology and the Presbyterian Church. They too often found themselves alienated from mainstream religious bodies when their sectarian teachings set themselves apart from those in the secular and denominational world. Thomas Campbell did not have to come to the US to understand divisions among Christians, nor to appreciate individual religious conscience against the restrictions of religious and civic governing bodies. Living in Ireland’s Ulster region, he was well acquainted with divisions between Catholics, Anglicans and the many subdivisions of Scottish Presbyterians. Thomas Campbell himself was identified with the Anti-Burgher Seceder Presbyterian Church, a group especially sensitive about encroachments of the civil government into religious affairs.36 He graduated from the University of Glasgow in 1786, where Thomas Reid’s common sense philosophy was the ruling epistemology, then taught school and attended an Anti-Burgher theological seminary until 1791.37 After several years of serving as a probationary minister in congregations without a settled minister, he became the pastor of the church in Ahorey in 1798. Despite the fact that this was a period of intense rivalry between Catholics and Protestants in Ireland, Thomas Campbell refused to have anything to do with secret societies against the Catholics and “from politics he kept entirely aloof.”38 Such was his commitment to Christian unity that he petitioned the General Synod in Scotland and argued in person for the reunification of the Burgher and Anti-Burgher factions of the Presbyterian Church in 1805. His pleas were ignored at the time, but in 1820 the factions did unite once again, several years after the Campbells had departed for America.39 Even given his efforts to unite Christians in Ireland and to promote the acceptance of individual religious opinions where explicit biblical instructions were absent, Thomas

27 Campbell’s most important and cherished work was in the training of his children. He served as their primary literary and religious tutor, especially for his oldest child, Alexander. Every day Thomas Campbell conducted two family devotionals coinciding with the morning and evening meals where his children were required to memorize often lengthy passages of scripture which were then discussed at the table.40 Thomas Campbell was separated from his beloved family in 1807 when he set out for western Pennsylvania due to health difficulties. He heeded only the latter part of his doctor’s advice to rest more and to find a new environment.41 His family’s plans to follow him to the United States after he had found a home were delayed by a shipwreck off the coast of Scotland. Alexander took full advantage of their delay prolonged by stormy winter weather by attending the University of Glasgow, where he could further follow his father’s footsteps.42 In Scotland, Alexander came under the influence of James and Robert Haldane, religious Independents who promoted congregational autonomy and freedom from creeds, while challenging Calvinism and infant baptism.43 Shortly after Thomas Campbell’s arrival in Pennsylvania his commitment to Christian unity was tested. He came to the United States in the early stages of the Second Great Awakening shortly after western Presbyterians were dividing over the merits of revivals.44 And it was not long before he became the source of division within the Chartiers Presbytery of Pennsylvania when he opened communion to all Presbyterians ignoring the various factional lines Scotch-Irish immigrants brought with them. The governing synod censured Campbell and the local Presbytery gave him no ministerial assignment the following year.45 Much like the ministers of Kentucky’s Springfield Presbytery, Thomas Campbell rejected the authority of the synod and formed the Christian Association of Washington with other sympathetic ministers. Thomas Campbell set forth the theological principle of the Christian Association in this famous statement: “where the scriptures speak, we speak; where the scriptures are silent, we are silent.”46 Drawing upon his Scottish common sense philosophical roots, Thomas Campbell established the basis of his plan for Christian unity: strict and simple adherence to the scriptures.47 Not wanting the Christian Association to be seen as a divisive body, Thomas Campbell decided to express the unifying goals of this body on paper. The resulting

28 “” expressed sentiments similar to the Springfield Presbytery’s “Last Will and Testament.” Like Stone and his associates, Thomas Campbell denied the governing authority of the presbytery saying “we are persuaded that it is high time for us not only to think, but to act for ourselves; to see with our own eyes, and to take all measures directly and immediately from the Divine standard; to this alone we feel ourselves to be divinely bound to be conformed, as by this alone we must be judged.”48 Although Thomas Campbell and the Springfield Presbytery both advocated the freedom of individual religious conscience, neither advocated this freedom as absolute. The “divine standard” by which all men would be judged, according to Thomas Campbell, was not one’s own conscience, but the word of God revealed in the scriptures. The “Declaration and Address” clearly held up the Bible as the sole source of judgment and unity as his following statement illustrates: We are also of opinion that as the Divine word is equally binding upon all, so all lie under an equal obligation to be bound by it and it alone, and not by any human interpretation of it; and that, therefore, no man has a right to judge his brother except in so far as he manifestly violates the express letter of the law -- that every such judgment is an express violation of the law of Christ, a daring usurpation of his throne, and a gross intrusion upon the rights and liberties of his subjects.49

The “Declaration and Address” had been approved by the Christian Association just days before the rest of the Campbell family, including Alexander, arrived in America in September 1809. Thomas was anxious to inform his family of his struggles with the presbytery and get his son’s opinion on the document which, at that time, was still “in the hands of the printer.”50 Remarkably, Alexander had arrived at many of his father’s convictions during their separation and whole heartedly supported the “Declaration and Address.” It seemed that the religious training Alexander had received from his father left such an impression that even while separated their evolving thoughts were in step. Regardless of the Campbells’ enthusiasm for their new plan of Christian unity, the small membership of the Christian Association and other sympathetic ministers’ reluctance to join left the movement humble indeed. The Christian Association, upon Thomas Campbell’s insistence, constituted only a religious society, not a church. Thus, Thomas Campbell felt it necessary to apply for membership to the Synod of Pittsburgh. Their rejection of his application convinced him of what his son already knew -- their

29 reformation would have to march forward independent of established churches. The Christian Association then formed the in 1811 choosing Thomas Campbell as their elder, and Alexander as their minister. With a small following of about thirty men and women, the Campbells’ reformation was underway. Although Thomas Campbell’s insistence on adhering to the explicitly expressed principles of the Bible was meant to bring about Christian unity, the principle contained within it seeds of division. For Campbell’s plea for unity was based on following the primitive practices of the first century church as described in the Bible. Traditional practices of the church were baseless, according to Campbell, if they were not also practiced by first century Christians. It was reasonable for Thomas Campbell to assume that unity required all Christians going back to a common source, the Bible, for guidance. As an intellectual disciple of Scottish common sense realism, he was confident that with a proper reading of the scriptures, all people could come to a reasonably unified interpretation of God’s word.51 However, calling into question doctrines and practices not explicitly mentioned in scripture opened the door for divisions. If primitive church practices and doctrines were the standards of modern church behavior, then those not following a primitive pattern were compromising the purity of the Lord’s church. Much like Barton Stone, Thomas Campbell began to realize the difficulty in balancing purity and unity within the church, and as his movement often leaned toward purity, their alienation became more apparent.52 The most significant questions that arose while applying Campbell’s principles of primitivism were those over the subject, means and purpose of baptism. Several members of the Christian Association noted that Thomas Campbell’s “speak where the Bible speaks” principle challenged the practice of infant baptism since there were no explicit examples of this practice in the New Testament. These members more fully recognized the implications of Thomas Campbell’s teaching than he did. Alexander noticed the same implications upon his reading of the “Declaration and Address.”53 His own study of the matter convinced him that infant baptism was merely a “human invention.”54 Yet, neither Campbell felt it necessary at that point to call into question the legitimacy of their , or those of all other Christians. The issue confronted Thomas Campbell directly when three Brush Run members refused to take communion

30 after they had been accepted as members. They believed that the Bible taught that one had to be baptized in order to be part of the Lord’s body and that immersion was the only proper means of baptism. Thomas Campbell then proceeded to baptize individuals he already considered members. “It so happened, however, that Thomas Campbell, who had introduced the reformatory movement, became thus, on this occasion, the first to introduce immersion -- a practice which subsequently became a distinguishing feature in the process of the reformation.”55 The birth of Alexander Campbell’s first child, Jane, on March 13, 1812, brought to his own mind questions concerning infant baptism. His intensified study of scripture in the original Greek language led him to believe that baptism was an immersion appropriate only for adult believers, and its purpose was to wash away sins. Convinced of this, Alexander did not have little Jane baptized. Instead, he, his wife, mother, sister and father, along with two others, were immersed by a local Baptist minister. Contrary to Baptist custom, the Campbells gave no conversion experience testimonies. They were baptized after a simple confession of faith and seven hours of explaining their reasons for taking such actions to their audience.56 Their newfound insistence on immersion as the only proper means of baptism became a barrier between these reformers and other churches.57 Naturally, because the members of the Brush Run congregation and Baptists now agreed on the subject and means of baptism, they were drawn closer together.58 Yet, differences of opinion on the purpose of baptism and other practices derived from the Campbells’ primitivism made any union with Baptists nominal at best. Alexander so often preached among the Baptist congregations that the Brush Run church was invited to join the Redstone Baptist Association.59 In a move similar to Barton Stone’s qualified acceptance of the Westminster Confession, the Brush Run members agreed to join the Redstone Baptist Association in 1813 provided that they “be allowed to preach and teach whatever [they] learned from the Holy Scriptures, regardless of any creed or formula in Christendom.”60 Campbell’s uneasy relationship with the Redstone Baptist Association was made shakier still when he delivered his “Sermon on the Law” to that body in 1816. In this sermon Campbell made a strict distinction between the Law of Moses in the Old Testament and the new covenant of Jesus in the New Testament. The latter was not

31 merely an extension of the former according to Campbell. Instead, it made the former obsolete. Only those of a pharisaical mindset, according to Campbell, continued to insist upon upholding the Mosaic Law.61 With this sermon Campbell had introduced a new hermeneutic, one that both shaped his followers emphasis on New Testament Christianity and offended Calvinist Baptists who saw a unity of covenants between the parts of Christian scripture.62 Campbell’s emphasis on the New Testament also limited his tolerance for imposing religious legislation upon secular society. Sabbath laws in Puritan New England were the logical political expression of the widespread religious beliefs that the community was united under the continuation of Old Testament covenants. For Campbell, this was not so because the old covenant had been discarded under the Christian dispensation.63 Alexander Campbell was still relatively unknown outside of Baptist circles within Virginia and Ohio, until the early 1820s. Then, his reputation as a fine debater and the publication of his made his views widely known, and further complicated his relationship with the Baptists. Being more educated than the average Baptist frontier minister, Campbell was the ideal candidate to debate the Presbyterian John Walker on the subject of baptism in 1820. The Ohio audience heard Campbell not only defend the Baptists’ opposition to infant baptism, but go beyond it insisting that baptism was for the forgiveness of sins, a blessing for which sinless children had no need. Three years later, Campbell faced W.L. MacCalla, a more able Presbyterian debater, in Kentucky on the same subject. By this time Campbell had lost whatever apprehensions he had about debating saying “a week’s worth of debating is worth a year’s preaching….”64 With his impressive performance in this debate and the release of the Christian Baptist that same year, and after a successful preaching tour through Kentucky in 1824, Campbell captured the attention of Kentucky’s religious seekers, including Stoneite Christians.65 As Campbell’s success grew, so did his alienation from the Baptists. His Kentucky tour had been a mixed blessing for Baptists. Many were invigorated with Campbell’s teaching, but his stance on baptismal remission of sins, and his attack on traditional practices and Calvinist theology elicited criticism from orthodox Baptists. Back home in Virginia Campbell was the source of more division. When his own

32 Wellsburg congregation, a colony church of the Brush Run congregation, joined the liberal Mahoning Baptist Association in Ohio, their ties to the more conservative Redstone Association were severed. The Mahoning Association was extremely successful, especially after appointing Walter Scott to be their missionary in the Western Reserve (Ohio frontier) in 1827. Scott shared with Campbell a Presbyterian heritage, a Scottish university education, and a commitment to restoring the primitive church. To Campbell’s restoration theology, Scott added the practical concept of a “plan of salvation.” Crowds came to hear Scott’s explanation of the steps toward salvation, few enough to be counted on one hand. One needed only to believe, repent, and be baptized in order to have their sins forgiven, and receive the Holy Spirit.66 Many Americans confused by the barrage of religious teaching in the Jacksonian age were delighted with Scott’s message, and thousands followed the steps he had laid out.67 Scott’s bountiful soul harvest could not be considered a Baptist success, however. Members of the Mahoning Association by that time were known as Reformed Baptists, and their remarkable growth was clearly identified with Campbell’s reformation. By the early 1830s the so called were completely separated from the Baptists. Because the Brush Run congregation had been forced out of the Redstone Association for their refusal to accept an orthodox creed, Campbell felt justified in claiming that his movement was being forced out. However, in some cases it was the traditional Baptists who felt pushed. In the Mahoning Association, for example, a group of orthodox Baptists took flight and created the new Beaver Association.68 In 1829 they released the “Beaver Anathema,” a list of charges against Reformers concentrating on Campbell’s insistence on baptismal remission and his New Testament hermeneutic. This list of charges became the basis of orthodox grievances against Campbellites in Kentucky and Virginia as well.69 Certainly the content of Campbell’s Christian Baptist enhanced the ever present tensions. If the name of his first journal seemed to indicate his identification with the Baptist Church, the content proved otherwise. From 1823 to 1830, Campbell used this instrument to tell people to “Come out of Babylon,” by which he meant the denominational world.70 He launched biting criticism toward the clergy of all denominations, including the Baptists, for abandoning the organizational and doctrinal principles laid out in the first century. Indeed, he was a “religious Ishmaelite -- his hand

33 against every sect, and the hand of every sect against him.”71 Although his , published from 1830 to 1870, was less confrontational, it carried on the sectarian tradition of his previous journal until 1836.72 Those who had been called Baptist Reformers were now the Disciples of Christ. Although Campbell had never intended to create a new religious body, his insistence on restoring the primitive church and the “denominational world’s” reluctance to accept his ideas made it inevitable. However, the goal of Christian unity had not been completely abandoned in the quest for purity, especially among Stoneite Christians. The 1832 union between Christians and Disciples in Lexington, Kentucky initiated the eventual union of 12,000 Disciples and 10,000 Christians into a collective body calling themselves Churches of Christ, or Disciples of Christ.73

The union of Stone’s and Campbell’s forces seemed unlikely given the differences between the two men. Campbell, who had been academically and theologically trained by his father early on, was by the time of their union among the wealthiest men in Virginia.74 Stone, on the other hand, grew up without religion and without a father and was always of humble means.75 Backgrounds and financial status aside, the two differed on several important religious issues as well. Stone remained a strong supporter of religious revivals ever mindful of his Cane Ridge experience. The excesses associated with revivals he attributed simply to human imperfection. In defense of Cane Ridge and revivals in general Stone wrote, “The good so far exceeded the evil, the latter almost disappeared.”76 Campbell, on the other hand, was an outspoken opponent of religious revivals and emotionalism decrying the “religion of excitement” which to him supplanted the “excitement of religion.”77 Such was his suspicion of revival excess that he sent his father to witness Walter Scott’s successful preaching tour in the Western Reserve “lest the impulsive zeal of his ardent and able friend, Scott, might in [that] quarter, wreck the vessel of reformation.”78 Both Stone and Campbell rejected the Calvinistic belief that salvation was completely out of human hands, but they did not agree on exactly what might bring people to repentance. Campbell believed that only the word of God could lead individuals in the right way while Stone was convinced that the Holy Spirit could work independent of scripture toward the same purpose.79

34 Disagreements on the nature of the trinity and the best name for their followers might also have kept these two from uniting.80 Perhaps the most significant difference between Stone and Campbell for the present study was their opposing worldviews. Historian Richard Hughes has made this distinction clearest by pointing out that Campbell had a post-millennialist perspective while Stone’s was apocalyptic. Campbell was more optimistic about the world’s future, particularly America’s, and man’s ability to improve temporal institutions in preparation for Christ’s return. The title and contents of his second religious journal, Millennial Harbinger, demonstrate his confidence in human’s hastening of the millennial reign of Jesus. Initially, Campbell did not realize that his faith in a progressive future and his devotion to the church’s primitive past were inconsistent, if not incompatible. In fact, he originally saw the restoration of the primitive church as the principle means of hastening the millennium. Over time, however, he came to speak of “science, technology, education, and republican institutions” as harbingers of the millennium as much as he did the primitive church.81 Stone, on the other hand, had no confidence in human institutions, nor did he expect the restoration of the primitive church to influence Christ’s return. His attitude toward all things “worldly” was more typical of pre-millennialists foreseeing only destruction and judgment for earthly kingdoms in the future. In preparation for the coming judgment, Stone emphasized holy living more than doctrinal and institutional purity.82 The different worldviews of Stone and Campbell helps explain the relative importance each man placed on the two goals of the Restoration Movement -- unity and the restoration of the first century church. Both Thomas and Alexander Campbell, as products of Scottish Common Sense Realism, were confident that Christian unity would come through a correct reading of the Bible. Such a reading, they hoped, would lead individuals to a unified truth about baptism by immersion, congregational autonomy, and other doctrinal and institutional questions. Stone, on the other hand, did not believe unity would simply come through correct biblical exegesis. Unity, he insisted, could not come through conformity to any creeds or doctrine, or even through the restored practice of immersion for the remission of sins. It came only through submission to God’s spirit.83 Thus, Stone, a believer in baptismal remission, was more willing than Campbell to accept

35 diversity on doctrinal points and commune with the un-immersed.84 He also worked more diligently than Campbell in the name of Christian unity acting as a peacemaker between Campbell’s Reformers and New England Christians, and urging Lyman Beecher to use his influence to bring about unity.85 The divergent worldviews of Stone and Campbell are important in trying to understand their views on politics, moral reforms, and the market revolution. Their followers approached such topics from either an apocalyptic mindset similar to Stone’s, or a post-millennial perspective like Campbell’s. Within the movement these differences grew to be quite significant. For in later years, their dissimilar worldviews and their followers’ polarized modifications of their ideas caused the movement to fracture. Unity and restoration were no longer imagined as compatible goals; followers chose to strive for one or the other. Similarly, the post-millennial and apocalyptic aspects of Restoration thought no longer co-existed. In 1906 Restoration Christians officially divided into two bodies -- Disciples of Christ, and Churches of Christ-- neither body being purely Stoneite or .86 The split came as a result of doctrinal, sectional, and economic differences that were, at least in part, related to dissimilar social outlooks between apocalyptics and post-millennialists.87 However, despite these different worldviews, alienation from partisan politics and religious reform societies was widespread among Restoration Christians.

The relationship between the Restoration Movement and American politics is complex to say the least. In some ways, the two were firmly attached. The “Christian Movement,” according to Nathan Hatch, was the religious expression of the democratic and individualistic spirit that poured forth from the American Revolution. Certainly, their early leaders, including , James O’Kelley, Stone and Campbell, embraced republican principles.88 Smith had been relatively disinterested in politics until Jefferson’s “revolution of 1800.” Afterward, he was optimistic about the political process in America and its application to religion.89 James O’Kelly, likewise, applied the democratic and individualistic principles of the American Revolution to his religious leadership by insisting that Methodist circuit riders be able to question their assignments. All of these ministers, especially Campbell, developed reputations for criticizing other

36 ministers for their devotion to tradition. Believing that each individual could interpret the Bible correctly without relying on learned religious experts was clearly an example of republican principles applied to religion. Furthermore, both political parties and Restorationists used the same medium to bring about unity among their followers. In the absence of any religious governing body, Christians and Disciples relied on their publications for this purpose more than most religious bodies did.90 Yet, in other ways, Christians and Disciples opposed the political process altogether. Many in this religious tradition considered themselves outside of historical and cultural influence. Because they believed they had restored the patterns of New Testament Christianity previously tainted by time, many were hesitant to open themselves to cultural influence through political participation. Restoration Christians, whether of the apocalyptic or post-millennial type, were fairly united in their opposition to the party spirit that seemed to permeate Jacksonian politics. This was in no way an unusual position since many people, both of religious and secular bent, saw parties as the antithesis to true republicanism. A long standing political tradition against partisanship still lingered from the Federalist Era and was especially strong among the Whigs. Although Stone was exclusively concerned with religious rather than political divisions, it is significant that he referred to the divisive spirit among competing denominations as “partyism.” Such divisiveness, whether religious or political, Stone considered “the bane of Christianity.”91 He rejoiced that the union of his and Campbell’s followers celebrated no religious or political party.92 While Stone’s hostility to partisanship resembled Whigish political thought, other aspects of his character had more in common with the Democrats. As a poor farmer who opposed moral reform societies and questioned the growing acquisitive spirit, he expressed the sentiments of the common man first won over by the Democrats. However, Stone never advocated either party in his preaching or publishing. Rather, he warned against partisanship altogether and distanced himself from all party names by not participating politically. Campbell similarly steered clear of party labels because of the damage political divisiveness could have on his efforts to unite Christians and restore the “ancient order.”93 However, the absence of political affiliation in Campbell’s journals may have

37 been more practical than principled. Because Campbell did participate politically, he can more easily be associated with political parties than Stone can even while he was silent on specific party affiliation. Historian Harold Lunger says that Campbell was a Jacksonian in the 1820s. Campbell admired Jackson’s executive strength, his advocacy of general suffrage and office rotation, and his opposition to aristocratic privilege and the Sabbatarian movement. By the 1840s, however, Lunger maintains that Campbell had become a Whig critical of the spoils system, mobocracy, Jackson’s enslavement to his own passions, and Van Buren, the supposed aristocrat.94 Friendship with Henry Clay also placed him within the Whig camp.95 Still, by not identifying publicly with either camp, Campbell’s religious movement was able to draw members from all sides. Given the divisive nature of Jacksonian politics and Stone’s emphasis on Christian unity, it is no wonder that he put no faith in American politics. Still, the degree to which he separated himself from the political realm is likely surprising to modern readers. When he preached and wrote about separation from the world, he not only described fashions, entertainment, and material wealth as distractions to Christians, but politics as well. “Whenever a Christian seeks for, or holds a civil or military office in the governments of this world,” Stone asserted, “he loses the savor of religion, his zeal and ardent desire to promote the interests of Zion.”96 Unlike post-millennialists, who were confident that the coming millennial reign of Christ would come as a result of America’s moral and political virtues, Stone was not at all optimistic about America’s political future. He considered all governments, in fact, in rebellion to God’s government.97 Since a person could “only serve one master,” those who chose to study “Caesar’s laws,” according to Stone, would alienate themselves from God due to the compromise necessary in politics.98 Stone’s views on earthly governments resembled those of the Israelite prophet and Judge Samuel who considered his people’s request for an earthly king to be a rejection of God as their king. True Christians interested in God’s laws, Stone reasoned, had no interest in the laws created by mere men.99 Political participation was not only a distraction to Christians, but a violation of their authority. Stone promoted the idea that Christians had only the duty to obey those human laws which were not in direct violation of God’s law, but nothing more.100 To seek political office, promote political parties, or

38 even to vote was, to Stone, an admission that God’s laws were insufficient.101 He best summarized his views on Christians’ political participation in the following: “Men by the light of truth are beginning to see that Christians have no right to make laws and governments for themselves…We must cease to support any …government on earth by our counsels, co-operation, and choice.”102 Stone was not alone in his pessimism toward politics. Arthur Crihfield, an Ohio preacher and editor with pre-millennialist leanings, expressed similar feelings. Separation from partisan politics was not separation enough for Crihfield. He urged his readers to keep their “minds from all secular affairs as to give them only the necessary attention.”103 While readers of this statement may have interpreted “necessary attention” in a number of ways, it was clear that Crihfield wanted his audience to give politics minimal attention. Opponents of this mentality, then and now, believe that Christians have a responsibility to the government, but Benjamin U. Watkins answered thusly: “But you may ask, is not Bro. W. a ‘constituent’ in this government. I answer, no, I am a pilgrim and a stranger as all my fathers were…My citizenship is in Heaven! May the good Lord keep us all unspotted from the world!”104 Barton Stone consistently held these views on politics throughout his ministry. Politics contributed nothing to the spiritual display he witnessed at Cane Ridge, the event that remained the most pivotal in his life. Something more akin to politics, at least inter- denominational politics, may have contributed to his dismissal from the Kentucky Synod in the years just after Cane Ridge. It is interesting to note that his fellow Presbyterian defector, David Purviance, the only other signer of the Springfield Presbytery’s Last Will and Testament who did not join the Shakers, or rejoin the Presbyterians, gave up politics to become a minister.105 For Stone, this was not only necessary for ministers, but laymen as well. (It should be remembered that the individual and joint movements of Stone and Campbell de-emphasized the special role of ministers and focused instead on the universal responsibilities and abilities of laymen.) Even in his later years, when many Restoration Christians were accepting denominational traits including cooperation with other evangelicals toward political ends, Stone remained an apocalyptic sectarian. The apolitical aspect of his thought was carried on by later leaders of the movement like and who continued to preach against political and

39 military participation.106 The apolitical tradition modeled by Barton Stone gave the Restoration Movement a strong otherworldly flavor. Most Restoration Christians were not so politically alienated as Stone. Most advocated political participation through voting, and some, although a minority, even sought political office.107 One would expect to find such a different attitude toward politics among the post-millennialists. Thus, it is surprising to note the similarities between Stone’s rejection of politics and Alexander Campbell’s early attitudes towards the same. As a post-millennialist, Campbell was optimistic about America’s republican institutions. Especially in his later years, he spoke favorably about the prospects of moral and cultural progress through political and educational means. However, one must be reminded that early on Campbell’s post-millennialist perspective was essentially sectarian. That is, it was largely incompatible with similarly optimistic post-millennial outlooks for its major component was the restoration of the first century church and the abolition of denominational Christianity. Until this was accomplished, Christ’s coming kingdom could not be realized.108 He did not, like many post-millennialists of the mid- nineteenth century, envision simply a spiritual, rather than a physical, . But that physical second coming had to be preceded by the restoration of the true church. The millennium was to come as a result of the church’s restoration, not political improvement. Campbell’s particular brand of post-millennialism made for a fairly negative attitude toward political participation. When a Millennial Harbinger reader asked whether or not a Christian could hold political office without weakening his faith Thomas Campbell replied in the negative. Both he and his son felt it was better for Christians to avoid political office.109 Because the scriptures gave no explicit instructions on the matter, the Campbells did not consider abstaining from political office to be binding upon all Christians, but it was clearly the conclusion they hoped others would make. Alexander also rejoiced when John T. Johnson gave up politics for the ministry. In response Campbell said, “Sir, in descending from the forum and legislative hall to proclaim a crucified savior, you have ascended far above all earthly crowns.”110 On the issue of voting Alexander Campbell took a less sectarian line admitting that he “sometimes” voted for “certain principles or policies” without devotion to a party. He

40 rarely encouraged his readers to vote on specific policies except to promote the cause of common schools, or to abolish slavery. In the former case he appealed to readers as citizens, not Christians, and in the latter case he encouraged voting rather than using extra legal means of abolishing slavery.111 Campbell’s attitude toward politics was shaped even more by his insistence on church-state separation. This conviction grew out of his father’s own experience in Ireland where the union of religious and secular authorities weakened the legitimacy and liberties of both. Campbell was heavily influenced by the political writings of John Locke who insisted that the state was to protect only political freedoms while the church remained strictly voluntary.112 Of course, Campbell thought good government required moral leaders and Christian duty required subjection to one’s government. Similarly, he considered any public education plan incomplete without exposure to the Bible.113 But this was as far as Campbell tolerated the mutual support, or worse, dependence, of religious and secular institutions. His opposition to the incorporation of churches illustrates this.114 For Campbell, churches needed no government to authorize their legal existence, especially one that was established by the direct authority of God’s own son. Two of the most distinctive aspects of Campbell’s religious thought, his belief in adult immersion and his New Testament hermeneutic, reinforced his insistence on church-state separation and further limited his advocacy of political participation among Christians. For centuries, being a Christian in Europe was equated with being a citizen of a nation where Christianity was the state religion. Infant baptism was the means by which the faith covenant was passed down within nations and families, much as circumcision was used among the Israelites as a sign of God’s continual covenant with Abraham’s family. This tied the church too closely to civil authorities for Campbell’s liking.115 He made clear in his “Sermon on the Law” that he considered the old covenant to have been fulfilled and replaced by Jesus. The theocracy of the Israelites and the multiplicity of specific rules under the Mosaic Law had served their purpose and did not need to be reestablished in the American setting. The new covenant was between God and any person who voluntarily accepted his call, not a nation, and its moral code was based on the principles of Jesus’ and the apostles’ teachings, not Mosaic law. Not only did infant baptism by sprinkling violate the voluntary principle so important to Campbell,

41 it negated the most important symbolism of baptism; the re-enactment of Christ’s death, burial and resurrection, which, according to Campbell, was only accomplished through immersion. By this act, a person was considered dead to their old lives and to the world. Nothing in Campbell’s religious teachings could have been a more clear expression of a Christian’s separation from worldly concerns such as politics. Given Campbell’s less than enthusiastic attitude toward politics, his participation in the 1829 Virginia Constitutional Convention is noteworthy. Representing a western district of Virginia, Campbell assembled with men of great national standing such as James Madison, John Randolph, John Marshall and James Monroe.116 In an effort to explain Campbell’s presence there, two historians have offered conflicting explanations. According to Harold Lunger, Campbell’s participation in this political arena was completely out of character for him and done with a great deal of hesitation. Lunger’s explanation is as follows. At the urging of his neighbors and fellow Restorationists Campbell was persuaded to accept his nomination to the convention in the hopes of remedying the problems of slavery. The potential exposure to his religious cause also convinced him to accept the call. Although he was still firmly against Christians holding political office, participation in a Constitutional Convention was different to Campbell since it would create the rule of law which office seekers would have to uphold.117 Serving on the judicial committee Campbell consistently voted in harmony with the other men of his district in support of a system of representation more favorable to western counties, and wider suffrage for non-landowning white males. The fact that these principles were resisted by the convention’s majority soured Campbell on politics even more. Lunger further stated that Campbell grew more interested in political affairs and felt a closer connection to other evangelicals in his later years only after it became clear that his religious movement was not going to bring about absolute Christian unity. In other words, Lunger saw in Campbell a personal transformation akin to the sect to church process.118 Keith Brian Huey, on the other hand, saw no such transformation in Campbell in the simple sect-denomination-church formula.119 Instead, he argued that Campbell’s presence at the Virginia Constitutional Convention was consistent with his confidence in the renovating power of civil governments and their influence over the coming

42 millennium.120 His interpretation of Campbell’s political views is summarized as follows. Campbell was emphatic about church-state separation, especially since the union of the two was associated with Catholicism. However, he trusted the civil government’s ability to defeat the “Catholic menace” in a non-violent way by establishing common schools where the Bible would be the primary source.121 Campbell’s criticism of moral reform societies and other efforts by Protestants to use political means to achieve religious ends came as a result of his suspicion of the powers that be, not because he distrusted civil authorities.122 Rather than focusing on religious primitivism as a shaping factor in Campbell’s political thought as Lunger had, Huey focused on Campbell’s connection to Irish and his post-millennialism.123 Both historians have given their readers a greater understanding of Alexander Campbell’s social and political thought. Though they came to somewhat different conclusions, they both made valid points. By focusing more on Campbell’s European roots and the connection between his views on church-state relations and his anti- Catholicism, Huey made important revisions. However, there is still a considerable amount of evidence supporting Lunger’s argument that Campbell became less hostile to Christian involvement in politics as his religious views grew more accommodating to other evangelicals. Huey acknowledged that Campbell’s identification with other Protestants and their causes increased as he came to see real “popery” as a greater threat than the Protestant variety, but he saw a greater degree of continuity in Campbell’s political thought than Lunger. The most obvious detail which strengthens Lunger’s view and weakens Huey’s is that the evidence that can be used to suggest that Campbell was fairly positive about politics comes almost exclusively from the Millennial Harbinger, not the more sectarian Christian Baptist. If his religious journals are true expressions of his spiritual and political ideals, it is clear that Alexander Campbell changed between the publication of his two journals. Contemporaries who subscribed to his Millennial Harbinger believed they were reading a changed Campbell when this former firebrand wrote, “For we find in all Protestant parties Christians.”124 This 1837 statement prompted one “much surprised” sister in Lunenburg, Virginia to ask Campbell how he came to such a conclusion given the prevailing belief among Restoration Christians that adult immersion for the

43 forgiveness of sins was the act by which a person obtained Christ’s name and joined his church. In Campbell’s reply, known as the “Lunenburg letter,” he reasoned that the presence of true Christians among the Protestants, and before that, among the Catholics, was consistent with the Bible’s teachings. If there had been no Christians within these bodies, the church would not have been an everlasting kingdom against which the gates of hell could not stand. Campbell went on to explain that Christians were those who were obedient to Jesus “according to [their] measure of knowledge of his will.” Those ignorant of the true purpose of baptism while sincere and diligent in their obedience to Christ might still be Christians, according to Campbell. Campbell further distinguished between two classes of the un-immersed, those who are ignorant of baptism’s importance and those who have been taught its true nature and still rejected it. Neither of these enjoyed the “same certainty” of salvation as the immersed, Campbell said, but the former were clearly safer than the latter.125 Over the next three years, Campbell tried unsuccessfully to convince many of his long time readers that he was not being inconsistent. He defended his position with frequent reference to earlier statements in the Christian Baptist where he excluded from Christianity only those who “willfully” rejected immersion. Certainly, by denying that adult immersion could biblically be a test of fellowship, Campbell resembled his father’s open fellowship principles. However, it is easy to understand why many of his readers thought Campbell had changed. If the un-immersed were safer in ignorance, had not Campbell imperiled them by debating effectively the true nature of baptism? For every person who accepted adult immersion for the forgiveness of sins and thus joined what Campbell designated the safest class of Christians, another may have been pushed from the still safe position of blissful ignorance to the hopeless position of willful disobedience. His recent confidence that many could be Christians without immersion countered his earlier efforts to convince people of their need for baptism, or re-baptism. His early words and deeds did not seem fully consistent with those after 1837.

The Lunenburg letter and the discussion it sparked were only indirectly related to Campbell’s view of politics. For it revealed changes in the religious thinking of Alexander Campbell, or at least shifts in his emphasis, at the same time that Campbell

44 was becoming more Whig like in his political thinking. The shift is even clearer when one examines Campbell’s changing views on religious and moral reform societies. Early on he and Stone both rejected most efforts by evangelicals to make the nation holier through moral suasion, legislation, or societies outside of the church. Stone maintained that position while Campbell later became more confident that certain religious societies could improve the nation’s morals and enhance Christian unity. Having failed to unite all Christians through primitivism, Campbell more openly identified with Protestantism and American culture in opposition to Catholicism. Barton Stone spoke so passionately about the possibility and urgency of Christian unity one might expect him to have given his full support to the ecumenical religious and moral reform societies of his day. Instead, he was among their most bitter opponents. Despite his friendly correspondence with Lyman Beecher, the individual most closely tied to religious societies, and his identification with the goals of these organizations, Stone was convinced that they would divide Christians.126 Certainly the variety of religious society members representing many different religious denominations would make agreement on key doctrinal points difficult. This, however, was not the basis for Stone’s pessimism. Doctrinal unity, at least on points he considered non-essentials, was neither possible nor desirable to Stone. Religious societies were doomed to divide Christians, according to Stone, because many of their leaders strove for political power.127 This was deplorable to Stone not only because he thought Christians should avoid the political arena, but because he considered personal ambition to be the chief cause of disunity among Christians.128 If the desire for political power was a driving force behind these religious and moral reform societies, as Stone maintained, they could not possibly bring about Christian unity regardless of their ecumenical nature. Even more dangerous to the cause of Christian unity was what Stone considered the other hidden goal of religious societies -- the attempt to create orthodoxy. His suspicion in this regard came largely from his own experiences battling the Kentucky synod’s enforcement of traditional Calvinism. Stone was convinced that religious societies were dominated by the most powerful denominations who were interested in promoting their own creeds. These were typically Calvinistic. This “partyism” so ruined the supposedly ecumenical purposes of religious societies that Stone considered tract and

45 Sunday school societies as “the engines to support the most anti-Christian monsters in all its various forms…sectarianism.”129 (Since Stone did not use “sectarianism” in its Troeltschian sense, the word “denominationalism” may substitute.) Thus, Stone, a devoted crusader for Christian unity, considered it one’s duty to oppose religious societies.130 To Stone, moral reform societies threatened the church not only by causing division, but also by displacing its influence. Much as Stone believed that Christians had no authority to legislate in civil governments, he also believed that moral reform societies lacked jurisdiction over moral issues. In his view they were unnecessary because of the church’s and Bible’s sufficiency. He advised Christians to avoid alcohol, but had no use for the temperance societies. “If the obligations of a temperance society can have greater influence on you to desist from this evil, than the obligations of the word of God, the honor of religion, the glory of immortality, and the horrors of hell,” Stone advised, “then unite with that society.”131 These societies he also believed were motivated by profit more than anything benevolent. Interestingly, the religious reform society with which Stone most identified was the most radical and unpopular of all, abolitionism. Convinced that slavery was sinful, Stone set his few slaves free in the wake of the Cane Ridge revival and sent those he later inherited to Liberia. Quite typical of colonization advocates, Stone denied the resistance of free blacks to colonization and believed that with enough money, the plan could easily be carried out.132 When this turned out not to be the case Stone increasingly moved toward an abolitionist stance insisting that true Christians should free their slaves.133 He never joined an abolitionist society and reserved his more biting remarks for other religious reform societies. Alexander Campbell was similarly sympathetic to the cause of emancipation. He opposed laws that prevented educating slaves and hoped to present a colonization plan at Virginia’s Constitutional Convention. Campbell’s plan involved using the government money usually spent on debt to compensate slave owners and fund the colonization. He did accept the advice of friends who suggested that he not make this proposal because of the divisions it might cause in his religious movement.134 Unlike Stone, Campbell came to see abolitionists themselves as a greater threat to the church than slavery. Not wanting

46 to see the Disciples of Christ divided over slavery as Methodists and Baptists were in the 1840s, Campbell’s rhetoric started to resemble the pro-slavery forces. He encouraged churches to tolerate slave owners and citizens to comply with the Fugitive Slave Law. Students at Campbell’s Bethany College were dismissed for abolitionist agitation much as Lyman Beecher had dismissed the Lane rebels.135 For many years Alexander Campbell opposed religious and moral reform societies on much the same grounds as Stone. He too considered these societies as promoters of individual Christian denominations, and tools for personal profit and power. In his estimation the popular clergy through religious societies “shuts up everybody’s mouth but their own; and theirs they will not open unless they are paid for it.” Since he had given up “earthly compensation” for his own preaching, his attacks were particularly venomous on this point.136 He also opposed religious societies for usurping the church’s authority. As far as he was concerned, Bible and missionary societies had no authority since the New Testament called for no such organizations explicitly.137 In a letter to Campbell’s Christian Baptist, Robert Cautious warned Campbell of such extremism lest he become like those who “in hastening out of Babylon…run past Jerusalem.”138 Campbell’s response indicated that he clearly favored the distribution of Bibles through the church, even if it could only manage to send twenty.139 The ability to spread the gospel quickly and widely was less important to him than doing it according to the New Testament pattern. Here his primitivism played a major role. Other aspects of Campbell’s religious thought, namely his New Testament hermeneutic and his insistence on church-state separation, had a tremendous affect on his opinions of moral reform societies. This is most clearly illustrated by his reaction to evangelical Christians’ efforts to protect the Sabbath, their most bold and direct effort to change American society through legislation prior to political abolition. Campbell opposed evangelical Christians’ efforts to stop the Sunday mails for a number of reasons. First, as Campbell frequently pointed out, the Jewish Sabbath described in the Bible was the seventh day of the week, not the first. If evangelical Christians were trying to uphold the Law of Moses, they would need to abstain from work of any kind on Saturdays, including food preparation, a task few clergymen spoke out against in their efforts to keep the Sabbath holy.140 Campbell used this argument simply to show the inconsistency

47 of Sabbatarians, not to advocate a stricter Sabbath. Besides, he believed the old covenant and Mosaic Law to have been fulfilled and abolished by the new covenant of Jesus. Because Sabbath breaking was not listed as a sin in the New Testament after Jesus’ death, Campbell found the Sabbath principle to be unbinding on New Testament Christians. Finally, because Americans held so many different religious views in regard to the Sabbath, Campbell considered it impractical for a civil authority to legislate over a religious issue. For once that precedent was set, Campbell thought, no one could easily find the boundaries that kept the government from encroaching upon the church.141 One final objection Campbell had to the Sabbatarian cause best illustrates his early exclusivist and sectarian nature. Since the Sabbath had originally been instituted as a holy day only among the Jews, Campbell considered the modern application of the Sabbath principle to apply only to God’s people under the new covenant. Simply put, Campbell believed true Christians were the only people bound to God’s laws. If the civil government attempted to bind people of the world to the same religious rules, Christians could no longer stand out as a called out people, the church would be weakened, and the problems of European Catholicism would not be far behind. Despite his opposition to most religious and moral reform societies, Alexander Campbell headed the American Christian Bible Society (ACBS) in 1849.142 This body was organized by fellow Disciples to distribute bibles nationwide just like the ecumenical American Bible Society (ABS). On the surface, this appears to be more evidence of change in Campbell’s thinking. However, Campbell again denied charges of inconsistency as in the case of the Lunenburg letter. Although he would have liked for the ABS to have interpreted “baptism” as “immersion” as he had, his confidence that individuals could read and understand scripture independently made bible societies seem less prone to corruption than other religious societies.143 Thus, he encouraged his readers to support the ABS until Disciples/Christians had their own bible society.144 What concerned him most about the creation of the parallel ACBS was the availability of funds to support Christian colleges and the perception that the ACBS was simply the creation of a few men in Cincinnati, not the lack of a scriptural authority for such an organization.145 If Campbell’s views on bible societies do not offer conclusive evidence of changes in his religious thinking, those on missionary societies do. Campbell was a

48 contributor to missionary societies until his conscience would no longer allow it.146 Once he devoted himself to primitivism, he found no biblical basis for such organizations and he used the Christian Baptist to argue his point. He favored “God’s call” to missionaries, which was always successful, over the call of missionary boards. According to Campbell, missionary societies were not only unbiblical, they were ineffective. The state of religion in New England had been untouched by the efforts of the missionary societies in his estimation.147 As late as 1835 Campbell still considered missionary societies, like temperance societies, to be “rival churches of human contrivance.”148 Only eleven years later, after Restoration Christians had established their own board of missions, Campbell declared that the American Christian Bible Society and the American Christian Missionary Society were “indeed two branches of the same great enterprise to enlighten and save the world.”149 Campbell’s faith in human institutions, at least those created by his own co- religionists, was considerably higher than it had been before. To explain why this was so, historians and Christians of the restoration tradition alike have offered two primary interpretations. Many have suggested, as I have, that Campbell did undergo a transformation in the same way that sects often become denominations. Others believe that Campbell was principally consistent throughout his ministry and that his ultra- conservative supporters clung too tightly to his earlier iconoclastic rhetoric. Even if this interpretive dilemma is not resolved, one thing is quite clear: despite Campbell’s late identification with Protestantism and American culture, he was still firmly opposed to most of the religious and moral reform societies associated with the Second Great Awakening.

The two principle leaders of the Restoration Movement did not comment directly on what Charles Sellers has called the market revolution. Certainly the availability of capital, the rise of government chartered banks and corporations, the development of a permanent working class, and other changes in the American market economy touched the lives of Barton Stone and Alexander Campbell, but they were understandably silent on the complex economic transformation that was only recently defined. Stone’s and Campbell’s attitudes toward the market revolution may be deduced indirectly, however,

49 after examining their comments on economics generally. Such an investigation reveals that Stone was again more alienated from “worldly” secular trends than Campbell was. It also reveals that Campbell was more at peace with the market revolution than he was with either political participation or religious reform societies. Barton Stone was poor his entire life. He exemplified the principles of ministerial self denial and poverty and encouraged others not to be drawn in by the worldly fashions and allurements.150 In this way, Stone strove to emulate the model of Jesus. In an article titled “A Sure and Certain Way to Become Rich,” Stone criticized the “mania” for wealth that had seemingly swept the nation and commented that “rich men are never pre-eminent in religion.” (Surely Campbell had just slipped his mind!) Eternal riches, Stone believed, were the rewards of those who lived holy lives.151 Stone also condemned usury and encouraged people to lend money without regard to financial return.152 Godly living was clearly more important to Stone than worldly gain. However, in his righteous rejection of the acquisitive spirit, Stone was not so alien as to advocate an alternative to capitalism. In fact, he criticized both the Shakers and Robert Owens for their communal ideas.153 Economic justice was no substitute for doctrinal purity so far as Stone was concerned. Instead of economic alternatives, Stone offered simple Jacksonian economic advice by urging his readers to avoid the burden of debt like they would war or famine.154 Thus, Stone approached economics with much the same aloofness that he did with politics. He considered both to be distractions to godliness though he never suggested alternative systems. They were simply beneath the concerns of true Christians. Alexander Campbell, on the other hand, did not consider poverty as virtuous as did Stone. How could he as one of the wealthiest men in western Virginia?155 In lieu of poverty, Campbell exemplified financial humility by refusing compensation for his preaching, a luxury afforded him by his successful journals, harvests, livestock investments and college. Like Stone, he preached against mammon worship and selfish acquisition, but he was also a strong defender of the capitalist system identifying more with traders and speculators than the urban working class.156 Usury was only sinful, by his estimation, when the money loaned was not intended for trade, commerce or further investment. When banks charged interest for speculative loans, Campbell believed, they

50 were in full compliance with God’s will.157 Christians were, too, when they acted within the framework of both God’s will and the capitalist system. When one Christian suggested living under a communal system, however, he was chastised by Campbell despite the precedent for such arrangements in the New Testament. Sydney Rigdon was most impressed by Campbell’s idea of restoring the primitive church after Walter Scott’s preaching tour through Ohio. He was among Campbell’s chief lieutenants until Campbell rejected his idea of a Christian commune as a distortion of scripture. Rigdon believed that the sharing of goods practiced by first century Christians in Jerusalem should be reestablished just as the practice of immersion had been to restore the church’s primitive pattern.158 Campbell, however, argued that the Christian community of Jerusalem grew out of their specific circumstances (3000 converts had gathered there for the Jewish Passover and had not yet returned to their homes) and was not repeated elsewhere. Furthermore, Campbell reasoned that Jerusalem Christians shared their possessions to address specific members’ needs; they did not cooperatively produce goods to be sold. Examples of charitable giving among first century Christians was further evidence for Campbell that private property was not contrary to Christian primitivism.159 Rigdon eventually put his ideas into practice among the Mormons, and Campbell continued to defend market capitalism as compatible with the church’s restoration. It would be difficult to speculate on general attitudes toward the market revolution among Restoration Christians because they were not economically homogenous. Rich and poor alike embraced the Stone-Campbell movement. It attracted many commoners as well as the highest percentage of slave holders among other religious bodies.160 Restoration Christians included both those whose financial status allowed them to enjoy a comfortable life and those whose poverty made them long for the next life. At the institutional level, the poorer southern congregations tended to carry on Stone’s apocalyptic worldview. According to David Harrell, they objected to instrumental music in worship, missionary societies, and Christian colleges for economic as well as doctrinal reasons.161 The wealthier congregations of the north more typically shared Campbell’s post-millennialism, his later acceptance of Christian institutions, and his enthusiasm for market capitalism.

51

Given their attitudes toward politics, religious and moral reform societies, and the market economy, restoration Christians do not fit the typical descriptions of evangelical Christians in the Jacksonian period. Since those descriptions usually focus on northeastern evangelicals faced with the challenges of the disestablishment of state churches, it’s easy to see why Restoration Christians stand out. They emerged in areas where there was not only no established state church, but few churches altogether. Their leaders, therefore, did not initiate religious revivals and push for religious reforms in order to regain their lost influence. In fact, Barton Stone and Alexander Campbell were generally hostile to religious reform societies altogether because they believed them to be unscriptural and dominated by denominational leaders. Campbell may have changed his views on missionary societies once Disciples created their own, but he and Stone were consistently opposed to any efforts to legislate morality. They were not advocates of the “benevolent empire” so often associated with the Second Great Awakening. Political attitudes among restoration Christians also contradict the usual descriptions of evangelicals’ political views. In the midst of widening enfranchisement and increased political participation that resembled religious enthusiasm, many of them stayed remarkably aloof from politics altogether. When they did participate they were just as likely to be Democrats as they were to be Whigs. In short, restoration Christians contradict so many of the assumptions about early nineteenth evangelicals they force historians to reexamine the nature of the Second Great Awakening. For, although alienation from secular politics and religious reforms was not universal, the impulse to protect themselves from “the world” was quite strong. This otherworldly perspective of Barton Stone was eventually overwhelmed by Campbell’s more comfortable attitude toward American culture and Protestantism at large, but in the formative years of the Stone-Campbell movement and the Second Great Awakening the sectarian view was more pervasive. Of the two leaders of the Restoration Movement, Barton Stone was more closely associated with the Second Great Awakening. He organized the Cane Ridge revival and continued to support revivalism while Campbell was always skeptical about revivals. It is interesting to note, then, that Stone was by far

52 the more otherworldly. That alone suggests that the Second Great Awakening was driven by more than a reform impulse.

53 CHAPTER THREE: THE MILLERITES

In the time of those kings, the God of heaven will set up a kingdom that will never be destroyed, nor will it be left to another people. It will crush all those kingdoms and bring them to an end, but it will itself endure forever. Daniel 2:44

Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and there was no longer any sea. I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Now the dwelling of God is with men and he will live with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away. Revelation 21:1-4

The revival fever that characterized much of the 1830s was all but gone by the end of the decade. Even Charles Finney, the most famous revivalist of the period, had traded his itinerancy for a teaching position at Oberlin College. The fact that he was trying desperately to rekindle the revivalist spirit among his students signaled its waning.1 The success of religious reform, which had already made great strides in “Christianizing America,” and the emergence of the Whigs, a largely evangelical political party interested in attacking social sins, may partially explain the decline of revivals. If political power and moral influence were the primary goals of those leading the Second Great Awakening, there would be less need of revivals by 1840. By then, Finney’s students were more associated with abolitionism than revivalism, and the excitement of the presidential campaign had seemingly replaced religious revivals. Yet, one major wave of revivals still remained. Those who believed that the world would be destroyed upon Christ’s return in 1843, as William Miller calculated, initiated a series of revivals meant to awaken the world to the coming danger in a nation brimming with pride over its political, material and moral progress. Such a message as Miller’s estranged his followers from the largely optimistic, evangelical society in which they lived. Most evangelicals not only rejected the Millerite message, they mocked the believers in the imminent advent of Christ and alienated those among them who listened to Miller’s predictions. Contemporaries described Millerites as deluded, extremists, or even lunatics.2 They reasoned that the only kind of people who could be drawn to such a message were dissenters and outcasts already disinherited by society. Virtually no rumor of Millerite peculiarity seemed too bizarre to be accepted. In fact, detractors reveled in

54 stories of Millerites dressed in ascension robes waiting in graveyards for Christ’s return only to find, when the earth had not been destroyed, that they had abandoned their worldly possessions too soon.3 William Miller himself was the object of entertaining derision as well. In a Philadelphia play entitled, “Miller, or the End of the World,” he was roasted in absentia by the comedian playing the lead role.4 He faced more serious accusations by those who thought he was more dangerous than clownish. Many considered him arrogant because he believed that he knew approximately when the judgment day would come though the Bible taught that God alone knew the time and the hour in which his son would return. Still others believed Miller was motivated by greed and they accused him of profiting from the fear he created. For most of their contemporaries, Millerites were a people set apart, yet unholy. Early scholars were not much kinder, or objective, in their appraisals of the Millerites. Those who did not deride the Millerites were admitted co-religionist defenders.5 Breaking from this unproductive pattern, recent scholars have deemphasized extremism among the Millerites and focused instead on what Millerites shared with American culture. David L. Rowe, for example, describes Millerites as demographically similar to their neighbors. They came from several occupational backgrounds, though farming was most common, and their wealth was slightly above average in Ithaca, New York.6 Rowe reasons that the Millerites could hardly be considered disinherited sectarians because they constituted a diverse mass movement who shared many beliefs and revival techniques with other evangelicals around them.7 Other scholars have demonstrated a connection between Millerites and the pervasive reform impulse of the early nineteenth century.8 By showing that many Adventist leaders were supporters of practically all religious and moral reform efforts, these scholars have portrayed Millerites as fairly typical American evangelicals.9 The idea that Millerites were not so foreign to American society as their contemporaries described is strengthened by Ruth Alden Doan. She effectively argues that William Miller drew from previous orthodox beliefs. Miller’s view that history was driven supernaturally by God was no new idea.10 Neither was his biblical literalism, a hermeneutical tradition that held sway in Europe until the eighteenth century, according to Doan.11 William Miller’s views of human nature and history were essentially Calvinistic. What made heretical, Doan argues, was that post-

55 millennial optimism and faith in human progress had made his conception of Christ’s imminent physical return and the destruction of all earthly kingdoms outmoded. “Miller forced into the open an awareness of the degree to which old views had already faded away.”12 Doan and others further bring Millerites into the mainstream American fold by minimizing the importance of Millerites’ attempts to pinpoint the time in which Christ would return. Those predicting the advent on specific dates were not acting in accordance with the spirit of the Millerite movement, Doan asserts.13 Thus, Millerites have most recently been described as fairly typical Americans involved in various reform movements who were distinct only by their pre-millennialism. While these scholars have shed more light on the early adventist movement, the very distinctive nature of the Millerites must not be overlooked.14 The fact that Millerites fit logically within American culture has been well established, but scholars should be careful lest they tame Millerites to such a degree that their singularity is removed.15 Millerites believed that they would soon be standing before God, the decider of all mankind’s eternal fate. They also interpreted meteor showers, earthquakes and political turmoil around the world as signs of the coming judgment. Even if trying to pinpoint the exact day judgment would come was contrary to true Millerism, their belief that they had such little time made them act and think in ways that were peculiar. It was not simply the belief that Christ was coming physically that made them different, but the belief that he was coming soon. Such a momentous prospect necessitated that all worldly activities, including working for moral reforms, become subordinate to the work of preparing for souls for salvation. This, for Miller, became the ultimate cause, the “reform above all reforms” that sparked the “revival to end all revivals.”16 Those who did not see it as such were endangering their souls’ eternal destinations. Many Adventists eventually withdrew from evangelical fellowships that were not preaching with the same urgency that Miller did. Time mattered to the Millerites precisely because they believed there was so little time left. If it was spent on things other than preparation for the Lord’s coming or warning others to ready themselves, it was considered wasted, especially as the expected advent drew increasingly near. The sense of urgency which compelled Millerites to think primarily in an eternal manner was but one of their sectarian characteristics. In several other ways Millerites

56 constituted what Ernst Troeltsch called a sect rather than a denomination. Their pre- millennialist understanding of the earth’s final destruction naturally made them focus more on the afterlife than on comfort and progress in this life. They also exhibited a sectarian understanding of ministers by identifying with a man who had no theological training and whose only qualification for ministry was his own common sense understanding of the Bible.17 Miller opposed religious and clerical elitism in true sectarian fashion. In reply to Reverend Dowling’s comment that individuals were incapable of understanding scripture without an expert to explain it to them, Miller said, “I do despise theses baubles or titles, which have become too common in the Christian world, which the Son of God never wore and taught his followers to reject.”18 Miller saw ministerial titles and degrees as useless, or idolatrous. Although Miller spent his later life trying to explain prophetic scriptures to others, he did so because he believed educated and distinguished ministers had blinded people to the truth, not because individuals were incapable of understanding the Bible for themselves.19 At least one sign of sectarianism was missing from Miller’s thought, the belief that his followers were God’s only people. As one accepting of denominationalism, Miller believed that Christians were found among the various religious bodies. Aside from his general criticism of learned clergy and post-millennnial teachings, he reserved his only specific denominational denunciations for Catholics, Mormons and Universalists.20 Yet, Miller’s acceptance of other denominations outside of his own Baptist background did not negate the sectarian nature of his movement. Though he never intended to start a separatist religious body, his warnings against preachers who cry “peace and safety” inspired many to leave their more settled denominations and join the developing Adventist movement. It was , rather than Miller, who urged adventists to “come out of Babylon” and leave their denominations, but Miller’s own preference that the church be “in the wilderness” encouraged a strong sense of sectarianism. The true church, according to Miller, was purer and more prepared for judgment when their standing in the world was most humble and alienated.21 While it is clear that Millerites fit Troeltsch’s definition of a sect, it is less clear that they fit within the parameters of the Second Great Awakening. Chronologically, the second awakening is so ill defined that its usefulness as a descriptive concept is

57 threatened. Traditionally, scholars have framed the awakening somewhere between the 1790s and the 1830s, but some have extended its termination to include the popular Millerite revivals occurring from 1842 to 1844.22 If by “Second Great Awakening” one means a period of sustained and universal religious euphoria, both periods are far too long. However, if one means simply a period in which particular revival techniques were effectively used to awaken sinners, the longer period is valid. Millerites attracted approximately 500,000 people to about 125 camp meetings between the summers of 1842 and 1844, borrowing practically all their revival techniques from the many Methodists within their ranks.23 Their revivals rarely resembled the unrestrained emotionalism of Cane Ridge. Revival techniques had matured considerably over four decades. Yet, these late manifestations were not wholly unlike their predecessors. Millerite camp meetings were interdenominational, they focused on the conversion of sinners, and they inspired criticism much like earlier revivals. Since Miller inspired many revivals as an itinerant lecturer a decade before his followers picked up the camp meeting tradition, it is reasonable to associate Millerites with the end of the Second Great Awakening. The remainder of this chapter assumes just such an association, but seeks to clarify the connection. Too often the Second Great Awakening is seen as the creation of anxious New England ministers who initiated religious and moral reforms in order to bolster their waning political and social influence. Despite their New England origins and their involvement in moral reforms, Millerites defy this characterization of the Second Great Awakening. As pre-millennialists, they were disaffected by worldly government and sought no political offices. Because they believed time was running out, they grew less interested in money and moral reforms except where those could be used as means to prepare people for judgment. In short, their sectarian nature pitted them against worldliness in all its forms, and in their rejection of the world, they expressed a fundamental feature of the Second Great Awakening.

Few could have predicted from William Miller’s (1782-1849) early life that he would become a prophet of the earth’s imminent destruction, for he had neither religious inclinations nor disdain for the world. He was born in Pittsfield, Massachusetts on February 15, 1782 to William and Paulina Phelps Miller, a poor farming couple who

58 together embodied “piety and patriotism.” The former of these qualities developed more slowly in Miller than the latter despite the religious devotion of his mother and maternal grandfather, a Baptist minister, and despite growing up where the Great Awakening first flourished almost fifty years prior. The more recent Revolutionary spirit was, by that time, stronger in New England and in the Miller household than any revival spirit. Miller’s father, a Captain in the Continental Army during the late war, taught him morality, hard work, and the importance of citizenship, but not religious faith. His mother taught him to read and therein lay his first passion. When young William was five the Millers moved to Low Hampton, New York where he attended school only three months each winter, but Miller did not stay within these educational limits. He constantly stayed up late reading borrowed books by the fire paying no attention to how little sleep he would get before morning chores. On one occasion, his father scolded him for sneaking downstairs in the middle of the night to continue reading an abridgement of Defoe’s Robinson Crusoe. Only after Miller became a minister of Christ’s imminent return would he identify with the title character’s alienation from the world. Until that time, Miller was quite comfortable in the world despite his poverty. He had exhausted his father’s tiny religious library and had become a serious student of Voltaire, Hume, Paine and Ethan Allen. 24 Success in the world seemed to lie before Miller in young adulthood because of his unusually disciplined mind and literary talent. His father’s friends had already recognized his potential and had supplied him with reading material to encourage his drive for improvement. After marrying Lucy Smith of Poultney, in 1803, he impressed the people in his new hometown with a poem he wrote to commemorate Independence Day. He was invited into the local Masonic fraternity and enjoyed the company of several men of standing, some of whom were fellow deists. Private relationships led to success in public life as Miller was elected Constable in 1809. Miller continued to hold local offices until the outbreak of war with Britain in 1812 when he was named captain of the local militia. Miller was still not a rich man, but his success in private and public life was so great that his religious biographer, , believed he had endangered what little Christian sentiments he had with worldliness.25

59 War always has the potential to either strengthen or weaken soldiers’ faith and it dramatically altered Miller’s religious sentiments. The typical amoral environment of military camps often loosens soldiers’ moral restraint. At the same time, coming face to face with death can also turn a soldier’s thoughts heavenward. Miller seemed pulled in both directions as the war gave him ample opportunity for both gambling and thinking of eternity. From a military point of view Miller’s most significant war moment was his presence at the victorious battle of Plattsburg, but spiritually another moment was more important. One night Miller entered the tent of some of his soldiers still burning their lamps ready to reprimand them for such late carousing. When he learned that they were gathered for prayer he ridiculed them and still accused them of gambling, his own vice.26 The shame he felt from this moment helped lead him to a more orthodox and less humanistic understanding of sin. As one might expect, Miller’s involvement in the War of 1812 initially fueled his patriotism more than his piety, but his war experience eventually led him from deistic rationalism to a faith more akin to his mother’s.27 His spiritual journey, however, was not a one way trip in which he left behind all trace of his former self. It began with a return home, rather, and was propelled by the same rational, disciplined and passionate approach to study that had defined Miller before. In 1816 Miller moved back to familiar Low Hampton with Lucy to take over his late father’s farm. There he regularly attended the local Baptist church with only slightly more interest than he had displayed before. Although he thought often about eternity, he gained little from church services. Still a child of the Enlightenment, Miller believed his own reading of the Bible was more profitable than hearing it read, or interpreted by some deacon. Significantly, Miller did not experience conversion until he was asked to read before the congregation. This earned him the taunts of his former deistic friends who could hardly fathom that Miller had become a believer in the Bible as the revealed word of God.28 They likely failed to realize the degree to which Miller had remained a rationalist. His approach to biblical study, guided by his systematic “rules of interpretation,” still embodied enlightenment ideals.29 He attempted to read the Bible with commentaries and his former prejudices put aside believing the Bible to be its own interpreter. That is, Miller believed all scripture to be consistent and in harmony with the rest of scripture; its true interpretation was made clear by a reasoned study of other

60 scripture.30 This resembled the Scottish Common Sense idea that truth could only be distorted by false perception or interpretation. Among his other “rules” was the rationalistic principle that all scriptures must be brought together in order to fully understand any doctrinal teaching. These rules made the Bible for Miller a “feast of reason.”31 Miller’s earlier passion for rational reading and study remained, but the object was now the Bible rather than Enlightenment philosophy. Miller had abandoned enlightened rationalism in two significant ways, however. First, he took for granted that the Bible was morally and literally true. He searched it for absolute truths as an enlightened scientist might search the universe for natural laws. For him, it was a predictor of things to come more reliable, even, than a scientist’s predictions based on repeated experimentation. Taking the Bible’s validity for granted was not an approach approved by enlightenment thinkers.32 His last and most important “rule of interpretation” also broke from his rationalistic past. In it he said that faith was essential to understand the Bible. This acceptance of mysticism, like his acceptance of the Bible’s literal truth, was foreign to the younger Miller, but biblical literalism and faith were essential aspects of the prophetic message that Miller would later deliver.33 The heart of Miller’s message was based on his understanding of the prophetic scriptures in the books of Daniel and Revelations. For him, the world’s history was a series of literal fulfillments of these scriptures which clearly indicated that the end was near. Initially, Miller was drawn to the 2300 days referenced in Daniel 8:14, the time that would pass from the issuing of the decree to rebuild Jerusalem to the “cleansing” of the temple. Miller reasoned that the decree to rebuild Jerusalem was given in 457BC.34 Miller also took for granted that the “cleansing” of the temple could only mean the destruction of the world. Thus, by using the common day-year interpretation of prophecies and by simply subtracting 457 from 2300, Miller concluded that the world’s end would come around 1843. Further investigation of history and scripture convinced Miller that all signs were pointing toward 1843 as the year of the end. Other milestone years corresponding with biblical prophesies had already been fulfilled “to the year,” according to Miller. Jesus’ crucifixion in 33AD was exactly 490 years, or the “seventy weeks” of Daniel chapter 9, from the issuing of Artaxerxes’ decree referenced in Ezra. Likewise, Napoleon’s capture of Italy in 1798, which brought the Catholic Church’s civil

61 power to an end, was an exact fulfillment of the “time, times and half a time” allotted for Catholic supremacy, according to Miller.35 The beginning and end of the Islamic challenge to Christianity also fit neatly into Miller’s chronology. Since Miller interpreted the seven trumpets and seven churches of Revelations as symbolic of seven epochs in the church’s history, every event fit somewhere in his cosmic chronology. The many biblical “proofs” Miller offered in defense of his universal conception of history convinced many that time was short. Although Miller was convinced as early as 1818 that the judgment day was only twenty-five years away, he did not immediately sound the alarm. Instead, he studied for five more years considering every objection to his views that he could imagine before making them known publicly.36 This deliberation may have separated Miller from religious quacks who stir up fanaticism on a whim, but it also left Miller in a desperate state of evangelical neglect. Miller believed it was his duty to let people know the end was near. Beginning in 1823, Miller began to express his views in private conversations, but this did not satisfy his conscience. Neither did his efforts to publish his views. As effective as writing was for reaching a mass audience, it did not discharge Miller of God’s call to “go and preach.” Miller’s reluctance to do so was finally broken by divine intervention, or so it seemed according to his retelling. Only half an hour after Miller had pledged in prayer that he would express his views publicly if the opportunity arose, he was invited to be a guest speaker at the nearby Dresden church. His sermon was so well received that the congregation invited him to come back again the next week. Thus, in 1831 Miller’s ministry had begun.37 For the remainder of that decade, Miller almost single-handedly spread the advent message often initiating revivals and conversions as he traveled and lectured. Reports from his Dresden experience led to several other speaking engagements in the area.38 Thanks to the publication of some of his lectures in the Vermont Telegraph in 1832, invitations for him to speak became frequent enough that he entered the ministry full time in 1834.39 Miller, the one time farmer, “set his hand to the plow” with considerable devotion and humility, never being paid for his lectures and rarely receiving traveling expenses. He managed to get by with the profits from his farm now managed by his son.40 After the 1836 publication of Miller’s lectures in a book called Evidence from

62 Scripture and History of the Second Coming of Christ About the Year 1843, he was even busier speaking throughout New York and New England.41 The urgency of Miller’s message was an especially effective means of initiating revivals. Many preachers who disagreed with Miller pragmatically invited him to lecture in order to revive their congregations.42 Initially, other ministers were not too concerned that the ecumenical Miller would take converts from them. After all, Miller did not try to win converts to his predictions, but to Christianity in general in order to prepare people for the coming Judgment.43 Although Miller did this effectively, time was too short for him to reap the harvest alone. Two things helped turn his adventist message into a Millerite movement. The first of these was the economic Panic of 1837 which helped “prepare the soil” for Miller’s message, making his listeners more receptive. Prior to the financial devastation of the late 1830s, Americans generally possessed an optimistic spirit that seemed incongruent with Miller’s pre-millennialist message.44 The world’s coming destruction was hard to fathom given the pace of political, economic, national and moral progress that many believed they were witnessing. However, the poverty, joblessness, and uncertainty caused by the panic made it conceivable, or even hopeful, that the world would soon pass away. Millerism then struck a chord with those who loathed the destructive power of banks and corporations. Consequently, the number of conversions linked to Miller’s preaching dramatically increased after the panic.45 This is not to suggest that the adventist movement was simply a response to economic conditions. Such an interpretation could not account for those conversions prior to 1836, or explain why Millerites were generally better off than their neighbors in New York. Poor economic condition aided the Millerite movement, they did not create it. The second and more important boost to Miller’s message was Joshua V. Himes (1805-1895), a man whose promotional efforts on behalf of were instrumental in creating a Millerite movement. Before there was any connection between the two men, Himes was already a religious force in his own right. He was raised in a privileged Episcopal home in Wickford, Rhode Island until his father was ruined by a dishonest business associate. Having no more funds for Joshua’s education, he was apprenticed to a cabinetmaker in New Bedford, Massachusetts. He left that trade, however, to become a

63 revivalist for the , a body of Restorationist Christians with loose ties to the Stone-Campbell movement. Next, Himes became the minister of the Christian Church in Boston. This position was imperiled, however, by the fact that Himes was more devoted to moral reform than was Boston. Controversy over abolitionism eventually drove the most radical reformers, including Himes, a friend and associate of William Lloyd Garrison, out of the First Christian Church. They then started the Second Christian Church and headquartered numerous moral reforms from their Chardon Street Chapel. Himes was the minister of the Second Christian Church in Boston when he heard William Miller speak in 1839 at Exeter, . Like other ministers in the Christian Connection, Himes was interested in Miller’s attempt to restore the first century church’s sense of urgency. So impressed was Himes that he re-extended his invitation for Miller to lecture in Boston. Miller accepted and lectured in Boston for the first time in December 1839.46 Himes was a changed man as a result. After being convinced that the advent was near he proclaimed, “I could not believe or preach as I had done.”47 Henceforth, he devoted all of his energies to spreading Miller’s message. When he learned that Miller’s speaking tours were the only means by which the message was being spread, Himes utilized his promotional skills to reach more people than Miller could have alone. In March 1840, he created and edited the first Millerite journal, Signs of the Times. He also arranged for agents to sell subscriptions for a handsome commission. Many more than the five thousand subscribers read Signs of the Times.48 Himes also published other temporary journals, such as Midnight Cry, that were meant to supplement Millerite camp meetings in specific locations.49 His unrelenting publication of Millerite literature earned him the nickname “Napoleon of the Press.”50 Yet, Himes wore more hats than just those of editor and distributor. He was also the principle organizer of numerous general conferences, the compiler of an adventist songbook, the Millennial Harp, used at their camp meetings, and a featured speaker at Millerite gatherings. In a real sense, the Millerite movement was started by Joshua V. Himes.51 Miller may have been the original prophet, the Moses whose voice led people out of their post-millennial bondage, but it was Joshua Himes who assembled the forces necessary to bring more people into the “Promised Land.”

64 With Miller, Himes and a number of other talented leaders, the Millerite movement had begun in earnest. Through itinerant ministries and the distribution of adventist literature, Millerites reached a varied audience attracting Methodists, Baptists, Christians, Congregationalists and some from other denominational backgrounds.52 Their acceptance of the advent’s imminence did not necessitate leaving their denominations, for Millerism was an ecumenical movement. Beliefs varied as much as denominational backgrounds. A number of Millerites disagreed with the emphasis on 1843. Millerites also held numerous opinions on how exactly the millennium would unfold.53 William Miller’s faith in the ability of common people to read and understand the scriptures encouraged individualism and freedom within adventist ranks. What held Millerites together was their belief that Christ would soon return personally to judge the world, and their efforts to warn others of his coming. Far from being exclusivists, Millerites subordinated all doctrinal disputes to the greater purpose of preparing for the Judgment. When John Starkweather, a dissident Millerite minister, insisted that true Christians possessed charismatic spiritual gifts, he was shunned by other Millerite leaders as much for his intolerance as for his fanaticism.54 Most Millerites sought to avoid both radicalism and separatism. However, this became more difficult as the expected end of time approached. Urgency pressed Millerites to speak more forcefully about the coming judgment while denominational opposition attempted to silence them, or drive them away through ridicule, withdrawing fellowship, or even violence. Millerites had unwittingly taken separatist steps when they held their first “General Conference of Christians Expecting the Lord Jesus Christ” in October 1840. Later General Conferences further identified them as a separate group and alienated them from established denominations. The meeting held in Boston in May 1842 especially did so because Millerties there decided to fully endorse 1843 as the year of the end.55 Dogmatism on this point drove a wedge between Millerites and Christians who did not accept 1843 as significant. The Boston General Conference signified a certain degree of separatism by suggesting the use of camp meetings for Millerite revivals. Although holding camp meetings was not at all unique to the Millerites, it was necessitated by their alienation. As they were no longer welcome in most church buildings, Millerites spread their message using a technique the

65 Methodists had perfected.56 Millerites added to revivals the novelty of a huge tent which could seat 2500 people with standing room for another 1000. In the great tent, attendees could hear and see the Millerite message more plainly than ever thanks to the impressive 1843 chart developed by Charles Fitch and . The tent was not only an excellent promotional device it was a symbol of Millerite separatism. Like the wilderness tabernacle of the Israelites, the great tent housed the faithful in worship in a land that was not their own as they prepared to enter the Promised Land.57 Separation between Millerites and their denominations was more widespread and official after Charles Fitch delivered his “Come Out of Babylon” sermon on July 26, 1843. Babylon, as Fitch used the metaphor, meant not only the sinful world or the Catholic Church as it was commonly used, but also the Christian denominations who rejected the adventist message.58 Many Millerites who had not already been pushed out of their churches now left them to save themselves just as Lot and his family had fled Sodom. With the expected destruction of the world at hand, Millerites distanced themselves from it and its churches. By 1843, the Millerite movement seemed to have a life of its own independent of its founder. Illness had prevented William Miller from attending the majority of the General Conferences. Otherwise, he might have counseled his brothers against separatism and dogmatism concerning 1843. Miller never wished to create a new sect and he always prefaced his predictions concerning 1843 with the word “about.” On the other hand, Miller’s principles led logically to both separatism and more precise dating.59 As an anti-clerical pietist, Miller had little tolerance for ministers who rejected his predictions. He considered their reluctance to accept as a result not of their ignorance, but of their obstinate desire to mislead. Further, he reasoned that those who questioned his motives were projecting their own guilt onto him.60 Miller may not have initially endorsed denominational separation, but his own anti-clericalism was a natural precursor to Fitch’s “come outer” plea. Seeing the mistreatment his fellow adventists faced, Miller saw that separation was necessary. Similarly, Miller was so certain of the precision in which biblical prophesy was fulfilled it is easy to see why his followers fixated on 1843.61 Miller was not an advocate of precise dating, but neither did he entertain the

66 alternate idea that Christ might return in 1847.62 Throughout his ministry 1843 had been significant, even if it was not central to his message. In that year he reluctantly accepted the request of his followers for a more specific timeframe.63 By suggesting that Christ would likely come between March 21, 1843 and March 21, 1844, Miller set the stage for both excitement and disappointment. Seeing the fruits of this timeframe, the pragmatic Himes embraced it more fully than Miller. Millerite revivals were filled with more people and zeal than ever before, and Millerites devoted themselves more exclusively to spiritual matters. Some sold their possessions and gave everything they had to support this last evangelistic push. For those who sacrificed all their worldly goods, the sting of disappointment must have been most piercing when March 21, 1844 passed. Yet, the movement did not die. It was saved in part by the softness of Miller’s timeframe. The slight imprecision of Miller’s predictions kept adventists’ faith alive. Even those Millerites who still sought precision were not left hopeless. By switching to a Rabbinical Jewish calendar, some reasoned that the advent was still less than a month away.64 The movement was also sustained by the alienation Millerites already felt in the world. The ridicule Millerites now faced was seen as a testing of their faith. They were reminded that both Noah and Lot faced a tarrying time before destruction came to their neighbors.65 So, Millerites were encouraged to persevere in the midst of a hostile and mocking environment. They maintained their faith interpreting the passing of time as confirmation of God’s mercy rather than their error.66 Miller did admit to error in May, although he could not find his miscalculation in scripture.67 His humility and continued faith in biblical prophesy also helped sustain his listeners. Though they were less certain of when the end would come, they were no less committed to preparing for it. As the faithful Millerites tarried, a relatively minor spokesman among them gave them renewed confidence by specifying the date on which Christ would return. This more precise date caused even greater excitement and deeper disappointment than the earlier prediction had. Samuel S. Snow (1806-1870), the man most responsible for the precise dating, reasoned from typology that Christ’s return would correspond with the Jewish Day of Atonement which was celebrated on the tenth day of the seventh month of the Jewish calendar.68 For Millerites this meant October 22, 1844. This “true Midnight

67 Cry” gained momentum in the summer of 1844 thanks to the promotion of (1796-1879) and the doctrine’s reception at the summer camp meetings.69 Although Miller had earlier suggested that Christ would likely return in the fall, he opposed the Seventh Month movement initially because it was not based strictly on scripture. He too saw Christ as the anti-type of many Old Testament types, but he found typology too weak a basis to predict the day of Christ’s return. It lacked the proofs he believed he had for his original estimation. However, he and the other Millerite leaders accepted the Seventh Month movement as fall approached.70 The excitement was almost too much to resist for adventists. They took to heart Storrs’ plea: “Behold the bridegroom cometh; go ye out to meet him!”71 The precision and certainty of the expected advent enabled Millerites to terminate their worldly activities with less worry that such was done too soon. Farmers who neglected to plant their crops and those selling and giving away all their possessions were certain that the end had come. Thus, October 22, 1844 found the Millerites looking skyward anticipating Christ’s return. Those who had sacrificed everything in preparation hoped they had not done so in vain. The rising of the sun the following day, however, darkened their hopes leaving the Millerite movement in disarray. Since the Millerites had not ascended into heaven as expected, they had to individually decide where they would go next. Some returned to their former denominational homes and faced the almost unbearable ridicule of gloating Christians who had not been taken in by Millerism. Others not willing to face such humiliation preferred to stay outside of the religious mainstream in groups like the Shakers. Still others were so disappointed by their failed prediction that they left organized religion altogether.72 For those remaining within the adventist fold, their religious paths were determined by how they interpreted the October disappointment. Most original Millerite leaders believed that the Seventh Month movement had been a mistake. They acknowledged that no fulfillment of prophesy had occurred on October 22 and warned against further date setting. Newer Millerite leaders, however, believed Apollos Hale’s and Joseph Turner’s theory that Christ had come spiritually on that day, shutting the door of opportunity on any who were not yet saved. Although traditional Millerites had always insisted that Christ’s return would be literal, their legacy of lay theology and anti-clericalism made it nearly impossible to silence the “spiritualizers.”

68 Despite this difficulty, Millerite leaders at the 1845 Albany Conference attempted to weed out extremists by declaring that sanctioned adventist ministers had to be selected by the general conference. Thus, Millerites confronted their fringes by taking the shape of a denomination. Such a move hardly restored order. Controversies over the resurrection of the wicked, the Jews’ return to Israel, and the reestablishment of worship on Saturday created a number of separate Adventist denominations from the Millerite sect. The Adventist faith in its various forms lived on after Miller’s death in 1849, but it never regained the spiritual intensity it once had. Most of the religious bodies that emerged from the Millerite movement failed to maintain the evangelistic fervor that had made Millerism and revivalism almost indistinguishable. Only the Seventh Day Adventists, driven by the prophetic visions of Ellen White and their desire to convince others that only Sabbattarian worship was sanctioned by God, grew substantially through the continuation of evangelical efforts. Modern Adventists still preach that Christ’s return is imminent, but the passing of a century and a half has made their warning cry faint in comparison to Miller’s. The irony is that Millerism was not quieted by the perpetuation of political, economic and moral progress, but by the evangelical mainstream’s acceptance of pre-millennialism. After the Civil War American voices warning others to prepare for the world’s destruction no longer came from the wilderness. They came from urban business centers, over radio waves and through the television from men like Dwight Lyman Moody, Billy Sunday, Billy Graham and Jerry Falwell. These and other mainstream pre-millennialists altered the Millerite legacy not only by avoiding setting dates for Christ’s return, but also by advocating the Christianization of American institutions through political activism.

Having summarized the growth and development of the Millerite movement it is now useful to focus on Millerites’ attitudes toward politics, economics and moral reform. Although their attitudes would naturally vary widely among their numerous adherents, it is possible and reasonable to determine general attitudes from the lectures, writings and actions of their leaders. Such a top down approach obviously has limitations, but it offers the best method of determining group posture where evidence for each individual’s position is unavailable. Besides, since Miller’s published lectures and the adventist

69 journals initiated and united the movement, it is likely that their commentary on politics, economics and reform would influence other Millerites’ views on the same. The sectarian nature of the movement itself also sheds light on the relationship between Millerites and the world around them. Like most other sects, Millerites focused more on piety, evangelism and the afterlife than they did politics, economics and reform. As pre- millennialists who anticipated the destruction of earthly kingdoms, they were often hostile to party politics. They also disdained the acquisitive and speculative spirit associated with banks and corporations in the Jacksonian period. And although many Millerites were leaders in various moral reform societies, their commitment to reform weakened as the expected end approached. Thus, the following will demonstrate that Millerites rejected all forms of worldliness and made themselves aliens in the world.73 In some resects the Millerite movement could be interpreted as a manifestation of the political ideals of the second party system. Millerites enigmatically shared principles with both major parties. With the Whigs they shared a desire to improve the collective morals of society, and with the Democrats they shared a confidence in the abilities of the common man. Miller’s preference for Old School Calvinism may have aligned him socially with the Whigs, but his anti-clericalism was clearly Democratic.74 Yet, similarities between the principles of Millerites and political parties should not obscure the degree to which Millerites rejected partisan politics. The ecumenical Miller opposed the divisive nature of party politics as much as he opposed fruitless doctrinal controversy which needlessly divided Christians. In counseling his listeners to avoid the uncleanliness of the world he had this to say: What is the unclean thing? I answer, It is the policy of worldly governments; in one word, it is a political spirit; that spirit which is not peaceable, pure, easy to be entreated. Who, I ask, ever saw a political partisan have these fruits while prompted by that spirit? ‘First pure, then peaceable, easy to be entreated.’ A political man, if he had any conscience, would blush with shame to claim these appellations.75

Because Miller saw the political spirit as the antithesis to a Christian spirit, it is easy to understand why he never advocated the agenda of any political party in his lectures or writing. There is no sure indication that Miller’s withdrew from the political process

70 completely, but it is significant that his ministerial career began after he abandoned his political career in Vermont. Joshua Himes, the second most important Millerite leader, broke from politics at least as much as Miller had. Like many whose primary interest was in the restoration of the primitive church, Himes had little interest in participating in a worldly government. Ministers of the Christian Connection did not seek the sanction of the temporal government for their churches’ legitimacy. Himes’ early commitment to moral reform pushed him even further away from political participation. As a founding member of the 1838 Non-resistance Society, Himes objected to holding office in any government which used force to uphold its laws. The Non-resistance Society’s Declaration of Sentiments also precluded Himes from pledging allegiance to the US, voting, or using the American court system. 76 For him, a government that did not adhere to God’s laws, as Himes perceived them, had to be abandoned, not converted through the political process. In this way, Himes shared fellow reformer William Lloyd Garrison’s rejection of the American government. The Millerite rejection of politics, however, ran much deeper than simply opposing partisanship and rejecting specific American policies. Their unique understanding of the coming millennium fostered negative views toward all earthly governments. Their post-millennial contemporaries believed that Christ’s spiritual reign in the lives of many Christians would eventually bring the earth’s kingdoms under his control. This spiritual understanding of Christ’s kingdom encouraged people to participate in and purify their governments in order to hasten the coming of the millennium. But Millerites “rejected a millennialism that smacked of the worldly and political.”77 Miller’s physical understanding of Christ’s return encouraged people to take up different battles other than those of purifying their government. In his lecture on the Battle of Gog, Miller described the physical destruction of all earthly kingdoms. To him, this battle was not simply a moral battle, but a real struggle between the worldly people of all the earth’s governments and the army of God.78 Regardless of what moral progress took place, Miller believed that the kingdoms of earth would soon be “destroyed by the brightness of [Christ’s] coming.”79 Thus, efforts to improve the world’s governments were basically futile.

71 What came as a shock to so many in the Jacksonian Era was that Miller did not believe that America would play any special role in hastening the millennium. Many millennialist thinkers, including Jonathan Edwards, Timothy Dwight and Charles Finney, taught that God’s reign on earth would be hastened by the purity of the American government and its people.80 The optimist and nationalistic spirit of the Jacksonian Era had practically canonized this type of American post-millennialism. Millerites, however, challenged the notion that the American government was somehow more holy than all others. Miller certainly appreciated the freedoms afforded by the American government which allowed him to express his religious views in relative peace. In fact, it was in defending the nation that Miller had been brought back to religion, and it was in America that people were being awakened to Miller’s warnings. But he knew that in the end the American government had the same fate as all others. Miller did not accept the idea that any government aided in the establishment of Christ’s kingdom. Instead, he saw earthly kingdoms as mere pawns which God maneuvered in order to bring about his will. Throughout history God had used various governments to punish heathens for their sins and to humble his own people when they turned from him, according to Miller’s understanding. The book of Daniel, upon which Miller based most of his predictions, was filled with examples of God using nations to establish his justice. The book describes Israelites’ experiences under Babylonian captivity, an unpleasant situation that was the result of Israelite idolatry. It then foretells, through a series of symbols and dreams, the rise and fall of the Babylonian, Persian, Greek and Roman empires each of whom emerge to humble the previous power and to unwittingly make way for the eventual establishment of an eternal Godly kingdom. In Daniel, Miller found no examples of a righteous nation furthering God’s work, but plenty of examples of God raising and crushing kingdoms for his own glory. He found the same in more recent history by seeing the ascension of Muslim power as a means for God to humble the Catholic Church. In a similar way, Miller believed that God used the infidel nation of France under Napoleon to bring an end to Papal civic authority in 1798. How God planned to use the United States was purely a divine prerogative. What was clear to Miller, the Old Calvinist, was that all governments, no matter how democratic, operated under the monarchy of God.81

72 In addition to Miller’s pre-millennialism, his belief that time was running out also cultivated a negative attitude toward politics and the world’s governments. Although some accused Miller of trying to make a name for himself in order to win political influence, Miller dismissed these charges by pointing out that too little time remained for him to establish a political following. Why would he seek an office in an establishment that would soon fall? he questioned. While most Americans anticipated the 1844 Presidential election, which proved to inspire as much political zeal as the previous election had, Millerites anticipated the end of the world before Election Day. Millerites considered it a distraction to focus on elections when the preparation of souls was so urgent. Attention, energy and funds were needed for evangelism rather than elections. Joshua Himes expressed this sentiment exactly. “The politicians of this age have spent millions of silver and gold to elevate a man, to the Presidency of the United States! Shall we not pour out our treasures, to give the slumbering church and world, the news of the approach and reign of our Eternal king?”82 Millerites prepared for Christ’s coming as one prepares for death.83 Politics was simply not part of “getting their house in order.” Thus, Millerites took a more negative stance on politics than is usually associated with evangelicals during the Second Great Awakening. The ecumenical, pre-millennial, and time conscious nature of their movement naturally steered them away from political aspirations. Certainly, many Millerites still participated politically. Their leaders never insisted that true Christians had to abstain. But the absence of such a directive does not weaken the point. Millerites were careful not to make doctrinal or practical demands that might cause dissention. They only required that people prepare themselves and their neighbors spiritually for Christ’s coming. The importance of that task so far outweighed all other duties that political participation was naturally down played by Millerite ideology.

Economic interests were also subordinated by spiritual ones among the Millerites. Because they were confident that the earth would soon be destroyed, they believed that time spent in evangelism and worship was more valuable than that spent in acquiring money. With such little time, money had no value unless it was to be sacrificed for the cause immediately. Even anti-Millerite skeptics recognized the economic implications of

73 Millerism and they often used charges of financial impropriety to discredit Millerite leaders. In turn, Millerites defended themselves and criticized others who preached for supposed material motives. Benevolence and evangelism were the only valid motives for Millerites acquiring money. Millerites demonstrated that economics was not their primary interest not only by preaching against horded wealth, but by largely ignoring economic problems. Although they grew up in a period of economic uncertainty attracting many of the downtrodden, Millerites cared little about solving economic problems. Economic hardship interested them primarily because it provided opportunities for sacrificial benevolence and because it provided still more signs that the end was near. Thus, urgency influenced Millerite economic attitudes and behaviors discouraging material accumulation and encouraging sacrifice, or even the cessation of labor in the closing days. The Millerite movement developed in a period when criticism over recent economic developments was common. Many Americans objected to the proliferation of banks, paper money, speculation, and corporations. The growth of market capitalism and industrial factories disrupted home based manufacturers, the apprentice system and, consequently, family and business relations. Although these changes created great wealth and opportunity for many, they also inspired a number of negative responses. Locofoco Democrats called for the elimination of paper currency after Andrew Jackson had killed the national bank. The Workingmen’s Party attempted to unite laborers in order to obtain a larger portion of the wealth their work created. Others decided to escape the problems of competitive capitalism by establishing socialistic utopian communities, especially after the Panic of 1837. Criticism of economic conditions in Jacksonian America was almost as widespread as capitalist speculation. Thus, the Millerites were not alienated by simply joining in this criticism. They stood out because of their own peculiar economic attitudes and behaviors which were motivated by their religious beliefs. Like many of their neighbors, Millerites were concerned with the nation’s speculative euphoria and the growing number of banks. However, they did not offer solutions to these problems. Instead, they interpreted worsening economic conditions only as signs that the end was near.84 Had they advocated the labor theory of value or utopian socialism, they might have blended in with

74 other economic critics, but their widespread cessation of work as the expected end approached isolated them from both the advocates and enemies of the market revolution. To reject speculation was common; to neglect work and leisure was radical.85 In light of Millerite beliefs, however, their economic views were not unreasonable. Neither socialism nor unionism would have been congruent with Millerism, for even if these could have produced more equality in the United States, they could not slow, speed or prevent the earth’s coming destruction. If Millerites had withdrawn from society and developed a model utopian community, they would have neglected their duty to sound the alarm. Only the cessation of work and the neglect of leisure harmonized with the Millerite sense of urgency. John Dowling, a critic of Millerism, recognized the implications that Miller’s predictions had on economic behavior when he wrote, If convinced I would say, ‘The Day of the Lord is at hand! Build no more houses! Plant no more fields and gardens! Forsake your shops and farms and all secular pursuits, and give every moment to preparation for this great event! For in three short years this earth shall be burned up and Christ shall come in the clouds, awake the sleeping dead and call all the living before his dread tribunal.’86

Other opponents of Millerism recognizing the same logic criticized William Miller because he had not sold his farm by the time he predicted the world would end. Regarding their economic behaviors, Millerites faced a double edged sword. Those who followed the logic of their faith and neglected their earthly occupations were called extremists, or lazy. Those who did not were considered hypocrites.87 Reasonable or not, Millerite economic practices earned their neighbors’ disdain. Even more threatening than charges of extremism or hypocrisy were the accusations that William Miller and his lieutenants were simply scamming their listeners for profit. Such charges could have ended the movement, if sustained. Thus, Millerite leaders were careful to clear their names of financial impropriety. Miller defended himself primarily by referring back to his predictions. The shortness of time, he reasoned, made speculation impossible and would prevent him from enjoying any wealth for long.88 Such a defense was reasonable if Miller truly believed the end was near, but how could he convince skeptics of his honest intensions? The fact that he received no compensation for his lectures was a much better defense. According to the pragmatic

75 Himes, the results produced by Miller were the best indicators of his sincerity.89 Himes’ own sincerity was questioned because he personally handled donations, sales and profits from Millerite publications. An anti-Millerite broadside illustrated Himes’ supposed materialism. It showed Miller and his followers ascending into the clouds along with their great tent while Himes, surrounded by money bags, was prevented from leaving by Satan who said, “Joshua V., you must stay with me.”90 Simple reference to Miller’s system would not clear Himes of these accusations. So, he opened his financial records to the public and demonstrated that profits were funneled back into the movement’s evangelistic efforts. Himes had not grown wealthy though his access to Millerite funds gave him the opportunity to do so.91 While Miller defended himself against accusations of materialism, he used similar charges to indict much of the professional clergy, at least those who rejected pre- millennialism. Ministerial rejection of adventism required explanation. Because Miller was so certain that a plain understanding of scripture proved his case, he often had trouble understanding why supposed biblical scholars rejected his predictions. Only their own selfish material motives, it seemed to Miller, could properly explain their rejection of adventism. It was bad enough that theological “doctors and great men” flattered people by “crying peace and safety when sudden destruction cometh.”92 The fact that ministers made well while telling people what they wanted to hear was even more troubling for Miller. In sectarian fashion, Miller lambasted “hirelings in the church; those who feed themselves and not the flock.”93 As an unpaid itinerant lecturer who promoted an unpopular doctrine, Miller completely separated himself from those ministers whom he considered driven by materialism. By depicting his opponents as money grubbers and by maintaining financial humility himself, Miller created a movement that was attractive to pietists who saw holiness in poverty. Not all Millerites were poor, however. According to David Rowe’s study of adventists in New York, they may not have been poor as a group. After studying Millerites’ financial records, Rowe concluded that they had more money than the average person in Ithaca, New York. His admittedly small sample prevents any grand generalization based on those figures, but his case study still offers insights into the economic views of the Millerites. Regardless of where Millerites were found along the

76 socio-economic ladder, they described themselves as “poor in the things of this world.” They saw poverty as a means of setting themselves apart from the world and a sign of their salvation. They did not condemn wealth itself, but they warned against horded wealth and selfish financial ambition.94 If Millerites as a group were not actually poor, they at least made anti-materialism a virtue. One notable exception to this general rule should be mentioned. In his efforts to spread Millerite literature, Joshua Himes did not exactly encourage anti-materialism. He enticed journal distributors to sell subscriptions by offering them handsome commissions. The more buyers they could find for Signs of the Times, the more money they would make. In this and other ways, Himes was what David Arthur called a “shrewd businessman and a practical politician.” He managed to wrestle the profitable Signs of the Times away from its original printers, Dow and Jackson, by threatening to remove his influence. Knowing that the journal was worthless without his editing, they sold him their rights to its publication. In doing these things Himes was driven more by pragmatism than by materialism. If more journals could be distributed by appealing to individuals’ monetary ambitions, Himes was happy to pay higher commissions. If more money could be generated for the cause by printing his journals personally, he did not shy away from confrontational business tactics. To a certain degree, he was willing to use the ways of the world in order to save it. The urgency of time made him even more willing to operate in this way as he lived by this idea: “What we do must be done quickly.” The fact that the money generated from Signs of the Times was funneled back into the evangelical efforts illustrates that Himes was motivated by results, not financial gain.95 Millerites best illustrated their anti-materialism by their willingness to sacrifice for the cause. Despite the cost of the great tent’s construction and the expense of hiring a crew to erect the tent on rented lands, Millerites were willing to pay for the excellent promotional tool. Some made contributions at camp meetings when called upon to do so. Others rid themselves of flashy adornments giving their jewelry rather than cash. Still others sold their property and used their entire earnings for evangelism.96 Although this ultimate sacrifice was not expected, or even requested by all Millerite leaders, it was praised by the movement’s journal editors.97 To give up everything for the cause was the best demonstration of one’s faith. It showed full confidence that Christ was coming soon.

77 To give in this way also connected Millerites to first century Christians who often made great financial sacrifices on behalf of the church with no regard for their own security. The cessation of work was another way in which Millerites could demonstrate their faith and their anti-materialism. This was done on a small scale when camp meetings were held. Participants were expected to leave their businesses for a time to be devoted to worship and preparation for the Lord’s coming. Millerite camp meetings were designed to last longer than a weekend just for this purpose.98 The permanent neglect of work did not happen on a large scale until just before the end was expected. In fact, Millerites generally conducted business as usual until ten days prior to the “true midnight cry.”99 Some scholars suggest that this late cessation of labor is evidence that Millerites were not economic extremists. However, the fact that many Milllerites stopped working only in the last days does not necessarily imply that their rejection of worldliness was any less severe. In fact, their confidence in knowing exactly when the end would come may have allowed them to continue their earthly business until just before the end, stopping just in time for a total commitment in the last days. The earlier warning that Christ would come in about 1843, did not allow for this sacrificial precision. When Reuben Brown complained that he had given all for the cause by December 1843 only to find that he reached the end of his money before the end of the world, Miller replied that his giving was “going too fast.”100 Miller further warned against sacrificing all out of fear or guilt. Those who fully believed that October 22, 1844 would be the final day could be confident that they neglected their earthly business just in time. Most Millerite leaders had not called for a complete cessation of work, or the absolute liquidation of all earthly wealth. However, their response to those who were now financially destitute revealed a similar spirit of sacrifice. Those who had expressed their faith in the advent by ridding themselves of all earthly possessions now faced double disappointment. Not only did they not ascend into heaven, their earthly lives would now be much harder. Sensitive to their plight, Joshua Himes urged fellow Millerites to provide for their hurting brethren. In the Midnight Cry he wrote, “Some among us still have this world’s goods and can render present aid to the destitute. I doubt not all will do their duty.”101 He did not want adventists to turn to other Christian denominations or charity organizations for help. Sacrifice among the faithful would

78 could take care of Millerites’ temporal needs and further connect their movement to first century Christian practices. Still anticipating the advent, the pragmatic Himes also urged people to return to their work and make provisions for continued physical existence. More importantly, he wanted people to continue preparing themselves and others for Christ’s return. Himes showed the way by continuing to publish adventist journals.102 Millerite economic attitudes were shaped by the perceived shortness of time just as their political views had been. Their rationale for rejecting speculation, materialism, and work derived from a sense of urgency. Time’s pressing required that Millerites make absolutely clear that they worshiped God and not mammon. William Miller best illustrated adventists’ rejection of materialism in a lecture titled “The Times and Their Duties.” Chastising “worldly minded sinners” he said, “They search their accounts oftener than their Bibles; they study more how to attain the world than eternal life. In a word, they are glued to the present evil world, and when the day shall come, they will, with the rich man, lift up their eyes being in torment.”103

Although an investigation of Millerites’ political and economic views clearly demonstrated the sectarian nature of their revival movement, analyzing their attitudes toward reform is more complicated. Millerites did not reject moral reform as they did other manifestations of worldliness. In fact, many Millerites and a majority of their leaders were involved in the various moral crusades that interested other evangelicals. On the surface, their participation in moral reform movements seems to reinforce the oversimplified notion that the Second Great Awakening was simply characterized by the reform impulse. At the same time, it appears to undercut the assertion that Millerites were sectarians, aliens in the world. However, with closer inspection it becomes clear that their involvement in reforms did not undermine their sectarian nature. As the Millerite movement progressed adventists’ commitment to reform weakened. Several aspects of their theology, including pre-millennialism and biblical literalism, undermined reformist principles. Again, time consciousness forced Millerites to prioritize their commitments; as the end approached, evangelism and worship ranked far higher than moral reform. More than anything, adventists’ zeal for moral reform was diluted by Miller’s own warnings that the church maintain its purity, keeping free of worldly

79 influence. Millerites never completely abandoned moral reform, but they found in adventistism a much higher cause. Reform was simply one means used to prepare for Christ’s return. It did not remain for them a means by which to save society or hasten the millennium. Despite Millerites’ early commitment to reform, their attitudes at the peak of the adventist movement confirm their otherworldly nature. For some reason William Miller’s lectures found fertile soil in the minds of many reformers. Perhaps they found in Miller a fellow soldier who, like them, was uncompromising in his attacks on sin. Or maybe his cause gave theirs broader significance by connecting it to the coming Judgment Day. Whatever the reason, there was an unmistakable connection between moral reformers and Millerism. The example of Joshua Himes alone legitimates this relationship. Himes was an advocate of temperance reform, non-resistance, abolitionism and a close associate of William Lloyd Garrison. His Chardon Street Chapel headquartered many of Boston’s reform conferences. Yet, Himes was not the only reformer turned Millerite. Charles Fitch, , George Storrs and a number of other Millerite ministers were involved in reform causes as well.104 Similarly, a great number of adventist laymen drawn from neighboring evangelical churches had worked for moral and religious reform. The strong reformist influence among Millerites may help explain why women played such a significant role in the movement. Although their work was primarily behind the scenes, Millerite women had more influence within the adventist cause than the average women in other Christian groups. Several Millerite women became evangelists as the urgency of spreading the word increased.105 The Millerite movement was definitely influenced by its reformist membership. Millerites were involved in a variety of reform movements, but the cause of anti- slavery was especially strong among adventists.106 Charles Fitch, for example, established a name for himself as an ardent abolitionist while he ministered in Boston’s First Free . In his tract “Slavery Weighed Against the Balance of Truth and its Comparative Guilt Illustrated,” Fitch called slavery worse than any other sin, even murder. He also denied that abolishing slavery violated owners’ supposed property rights and encouraged the application of moral suasion saying, “let every pulpit thunder forth this mandate of the most high God.”107 Fitch’s insistence on abolition went

80 far beyond Miller’s own colonization advocacy. As did Joseph Bates, a Millerite missionary who bravely traveled the South where most abolitionists were reluctant to go. When asked by a Southern judge if he had come to get their slaves, he replied, “Yes, Judge, I am an abolitionist and have come to get your slaves, and you too!” Bates’ reply revealed that his desire to win converts had outpaced his desire to free slaves. Another prominent abolitionist Millerite was Angelina Grimke Weld. Although she eventually rejected Millerism, never accepting the idea that the world’s literal destruction would be accompanied by Christ’s physical return, her initial attraction to Millerism illustrates the adventist-abolitionist relationship. The fact that both abolitionists and adventists became antagonistic toward established churches may help explain the connection between the two movements.108 Despite the large number of reformers and abolitionists within the Millerite movement, certain aspects of adventist theology undermined their commitment to reform. First, biblical literalism undercut Millerite reformism. It was a greater tool for slave owners than for abolitionists. They often referred to explicit instructions for slaves to obey their masters while abolitionists could refer to no explicit command to set slaves free. Miller’s biblical literalism may help explain why he favored colonization to the abolition of slavery.109 Next, their pre-millennialism compromised Millerites’ desire to purify the nation’s institutions. Even a nationwide honoring of the Sabbath could not prevent the nation’s destruction. Furthermore, Miller believed post-millennialists were inconsistent in their application of the Sabbath doctrine. For him, the Sabbath was another symbol Christ was coming soon. Since the Bible taught that a day for God was like one thousand years, Miller reasoned the God would do his work in six of those long days and rest on the seventh after his judgment. If the judgment and resurrection were to come after the establishment of Christ’s millennial reign, or after another thousand year day, then Christ would still be completing his work on the Sabbath, the holy day of rest. Unlike the Seventh Day Adventists who emerged from Millerism, William Miller was not arguing in favor of seventh day worship. He was simply pointing out what he believed was an inconsistency in the post-millennialists’ protection of the Sabbath.110 Finally, Millerites’ commitment to reform was compromised by their insistence that others accept the immediacy of the second advent. Western Midnight Cry editors found it

81 terribly inconsistent for a woman to be kicked out of her church for singing adventist songs by a minister who led many temperance songs.111 Priorities were reversed, Millerites believed, when discussion of Christ’s immediate return was silenced and abstaining from alcohol was demanded. The Millerite belief that time was running out was especially limiting to their reformist activities. The abolitionist and reformer Joshua Himes accepted Miller’s pre- millennialist arguments quickly, but he was not initially convinced that 1843 would be the approximate end of the world. As he came to accept Miller’s calculations, however, his reform activities decreased. Although the Chardon Street Chapel was still opened for reformers, Himes spent his time editing journals, organizing conferences and lecturing for the Millerite cause. It seemed that his initial reaction to Miller’s teaching had been correct: “[He] could not believe or preach as [he] had done.” Others convinced by Miller lost their zeal for reform as well.112 Charles Fitch, the once staunch abolitionist, spoke at Oberlin College not to commend its students for their anti-slavery activities, but to debate their theologians on adventism.113 Such defections from reform left William Lloyd Garrison lamenting those “carried away” by Millerism.114 According to Ronald Graybill, Millerites had not really advanced the reformist cause at all. Although many Millerites had come from reformists backgrounds, at the peak of the adventist movement, they had little time for other activities.115 Probably the greatest deterrent to adventist activism was William Miller’s own warnings about worldliness and church pride. On one hand, he supported Bible societies, missionary societies, Sabbath schools and the as means to prepare people for the coming judgment. All of these, Miller thought, had created a tidal wave of religious interest that was “giving more light” to the lost world.116 On the other hand, Miller believed that such outward success for the church had to be handled with caution, especially when the church was befriended by worldly institutions. When tracing Jewish and Christian history, Miller concluded that God’s people had always fared better when rejected by the world. The early church, the first Protestants, and the Israelites, according to Miller, were all closer to God in “the wilderness” than they were after securing their places among the earth’s kingdoms. In such a primitive and persecuted state the church was more humble, pure and dependent on God, Miller remarked, “for there she mixes not

82 with the world, there she is not wholly engaged after the riches, honors, wisdom and fashions of this world.” Outside of the wilderness, Miller said, the church “enjoys possessions, privileges and laws among the kingdoms and political nations of the earth; kings are her nursing fathers and queens her nursing mothers.”117 To Miller, friendship with the world had caused the Israelites to trade their allegiance to God for an earthly king and had transformed the primitive church into a Catholic establishment. In the midst of the Second Great Awakening, Miller warned that friendship with the world was diminishing the progress of moral reforms against social sins. Perhaps nothing at the present time impedes the progress of these things so much as the popular spirit, the pride and arrogance of the church herself. She is more or less counting the applause of the world. She is mingling her holy religion with the opinions and principles of men. She is proud and self sufficient, doting upon her own works and forgetting her dependence on God. If this be the true state of the church, God may suffer tyrants to remain as a scourge to the church, ‘as a rod to the fool’s back.’118

Miller never advocated the complete abandonment of moral and religious reform societies, but his pietistic warnings about the church’s potential worldliness certainly discouraged enthusiasm for moral reform. Interestingly, Miller’s wilderness theory of church development mirrors the sect- denomination hypothesis of Ernst Troeltsch and H. Richard Niebuhr as well as the later conclusions of religious sociologists Roger Finke and Rodney Stark. Like Troeltsch and Niebuhr, Miller saw Christianity as a countercultural movement constantly threatened by its own success. His wilderness theory suggested that church purity was weakened by its association with the world just as Troeltsch and Niebuhr suggested that otherworldly sects lost their movement mentality as they prospered materially and focused on temporal goals. The adventist movement was, in part, an effort to reawaken Christians to their countercultural heritage. Its success came not from its accommodation to the world, but from its rejection of it. Just like the sectarians described by Finke and Stark, the Millerites grew at the close of the Second Great Awakening precisely because they maintained tension between themselves and their surrounding environment and because they focused on salvation in the next life rather than comfort and progress in the present. The challenge faced by the Millerites, and all sectarians, was that of maintaining their

83 movement mentality. Without their former confidence that Christ’s return was imminent, their otherworldly nature has been understandably difficult to sustain. Up until their October disappointment, however, their otherworldly nature was undeniable. Millerite preaching focused exclusively on preparation for the coming Judgment ignoring topics of worldly concern. Because of their pre-millennialism, their sensitivity to time’s scarcity, and Miller’s preference for the church in the “wilderness,” Millerites turned cool toward all aspects of worldliness. They discouraged political participation by identifying the political spirit with evil and by emphasizing the imminent destruction of all earthly kingdoms. They showed their disdain for the market revolution and materialism by interpreting economic changes as signs of the end and by abandoning sound financial practice. And finally, Millerites lost interest in moral and religious reform except as means to prepare people for Christ’s return. At the peak of the adventist movement and the height of the Second Great Awakening, most Millerites were “happy to see their former causes subsumed under one great and final movement.”119 Although this chapter has focused on ways in which the Millerites broke from the usual interpretations of Second Great Awakening revivalism, it does not follow that scholars who emphasize Millerites’ connections to American culture are mistaken. Indeed, Millerites were both “aliens in the world” and products of American revivalism. Such qualities only seem exclusive because of narrow scholarship on the Second Great Awakening. Predominantly historians have suggested that early nineteenth century revivalism was driven by political and economic concerns fueling a desire to reform the nation’s morals and religious practices. If this reform impulse was the only byproduct of the Second Great Awakening, then Millerites could not have been both “aliens in the world” and products of American revivalism. However, if the awakening also fostered a spirit of separation from worldliness, the connection between sects like the Millerites and the awakening becomes clear.

84 CHAPTER FOUR: THE MORMONS

But, behold, the righteous, the saints of the Holy One of Israel, they who have believed in the Holy One of Israel, they who have endured the crosses of the world, and despised the shame of it, they shall inherit the kingdom of God, which was prepared for them from the foundation of the world, and their joy shall be full forever. II Nephi 9:18

And now, my beloved son, notwithstanding their hardness, let us labor diligently; for if we should cease to labor, we should be brought under condemnation; for we have a labor to perform whilst in this tabernacle of clay, that we may conquer the enemy of all righteousness, and rest our souls in the kingdom of God. Moroni 9:6

The most original and successful sectarian group to emerge in Jacksonian America was the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, commonly known as the Mormons. From the founding of this body in 1830 to the early twenty-first century its membership grew from only three small families, including Joseph Smith’s, to four million American adherents and an estimated nine million worldwide. Due to this meteoric rise the Mormons are numerically greater than those groups who originally constituted the American religious mainstream; Congregationalists, Presbyterians, and Episcopalians.1 As impressive as this growth is, it is equaled by their increased acceptance and respectability in American society. Originally, Mormons were a materially humble people persecuted by their neighbors who considered them both un- Christian and un-American. Now they are a collectively wealthy and welcomed part of the American religious mainstream known for their intense patriotic devotion to the United States.2 Although Mormon growth appears to follow the same sect-denomination transformation experienced by other sects who emerged in America during the Second Great Awakening, their journey from alienation to Americanization has been as unique as their religious movement.3 One thing that sets Mormons’ experience apart from other Jacksonian sects has been their historically equivocal relationship with wider American culture. On one hand, it is misleading to speak of Americanization among the Mormons because the land and culture of America had left an unmistakable mark on them from the beginning. Like many mainstream Christians in America, Mormons believed that Christ’s millennial kingdom would be established first in America. However, they were alone in believing that America had been the home of ancient Israelites who prophesied, witnessed and

85 recorded Christ’s coming to America just after his ascension in Jerusalem. Their belief that a single American, Joseph Smith, had been granted the authority to restore God’s church through direct revelation was also unique. No other American religious group considered their homeland so central to God’s plan of salvation. On the other hand, few religious groups offended the values and institutions of the American people as thoroughly as the Mormons. They faced much the same opposition that American Catholics faced in this period with fewer adherents to defend themselves.4 In a time characterized by competitive capitalism and the rise of individuals, the Mormons emphasized community in the establishment of a collective economy. Their strict hierarchal church structure and their talk of a political kingdom caused many Americans to perceive that Mormons wished to undermine the tradition of church-state separation. More than anything, the practice of polygamy was a source of conflict between Mormons and wider American culture. Only after Mormons abandoned collective economics, polygamy and their attempts to create a political kingdom were they welcomed into the religious mainstream. With these distinguishing marks removed, Mormons still think of themselves as a people set apart. Even now, as Mormons are distinguished primarily by their belief in continual extra-biblical revelations, they often see their gathering as a holy Zion surrounded by pagan Babylonians. The complex relationship between Mormons and American culture makes any analysis of their transformation difficult. Explaining the acceptance of Mormons by the wider American populace is further complicated because their belief in perpetual revelations undermines the sect- denomination theory. Typically when an alienated religious sect alters their beliefs or practices to accommodate its surrounding culture it is clearly recognized as a step toward secularism and denominationalism. However, when the changes are made as a result of new revelations from God, they hardly seem like secularized compromises. Non- Mormons may reasonably assume that Latter Day Saints have changed their attitudes toward polygamy and racial purity in the priesthood in order to gain greater acceptance from outsiders. Mormons, on the other hand, see these alterations as obedience to new revelations rather than compromises with the world. Therefore, no adjustment in Mormon belief or practice can be explained by the sect-denomination theory without dismissing their belief in perpetual revelation.

86 Given these complications it is fortunate that the current chapter is not an attempt to explain why the Latter Day Saints were mainstreamed, or why they have been so successful in what was once a hostile environment. These matters receive some attention, but the focus of this chapter is on the early Mormons as an alienated Jacksonian sect. Much like the Restoration Christians and the Millerites already discussed, the Mormons possessed an otherworldly focus typical of sectarians as the name “Latter Day Saints” implies. They shared with the Millerites the belief that time was running out and with the Christians/Disciples the idea that the church was in need of restoration. Much more than those other sectarians, the Mormons believed theirs was the only true church, restored from apostasy through God’s revelations to Joseph Smith. Mormons recognized no one outside the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints as Christians. They saw themselves as aliens in the world and this perception was reinforced by constant confrontations between themselves and their neighbors. Due to Mormons’ exclusivity, zeal and otherworldly focus, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints was clearly a sect. Yet, it was unique among the sects already discussed in at least two important ways. First, the Mormons were led by Joseph Smith to a uniquely materialistic understanding of existence. In the Doctrine and Covenants he wrote, “For man is spirit. The elements are eternal, and spirit and element, inseparably connected receiveth a fullness of joy.”5 Based on their understanding of that verse, many Mormons rejected typical body-soul and mind-matter distinctions believing that all matter was eternal and that all beings, including God, had a material existence. Thus, it is somewhat misleading to say that the Mormons focused on otherworldly things since they did not distinguish between what was “worldly” and what was “spiritual.”6 Their understanding of the physical being eternal made them seemingly more interested in “worldly” matters than other sectarians. For example, Mormons spent a great deal of time and energy searching for and securing lands on which they could begin to build God’s physical kingdom on earth, an act that would have been unthinkable to other sectarians. Furthermore, Mormons invested heavily in building lavish temples rather than simple meeting places or tents that express a more temporary nature and purpose. Because the Mormons did not

87 see all things physical as temporal and all things spiritual as eternal, they were more comfortable practicing politics and experimenting with economics than other sectarians. The second way in which Mormons were different than the sectarians already mentioned was in their relation to the Second Great Awakening. Restoration Christians and the Millerites were supporters, participants and, in some ways, products of the awakening. In contrast, Mormons, while embracing some of the awakening’s characteristics, were primarily opposed to the awakening. As far as the awakening was a challenge to Calvinism, Mormons were complete supporters. Like many other Christians in the Jacksonian period, they believed that individuals were unburdened by Adam’s sin having both the free will to chose salvation and the ability to help build God’s kingdom on earth. Mormons also shared with supporters of the Second Great Awakening an enthusiasm for evangelism and missions. Yet, ultimately they rejected the awakening for its lack of authority. In Joseph Smith’s first vision he was instructed not to join any religious group for God’s true church had fallen into apostasy and would be restored only by Smith. Because he believed that ministers of the Second Great Awakening had no authority to baptize, promote religious reforms, or even to preach the gospel, he was quite critical of them, questioning their motives even when he agreed with their goals. Smith rejected the ecumenical spirit of religious pluralism that was prominent in the awakening and claimed that his church alone had the authority to add people to God’s kingdom. Although Mormons emerged in the atmosphere of the awakening and exemplified some of its characteristics, they constituted a reaction to it rather than one of its fruits. In previous chapters the author argued that the Second Great Awakening spawned more than an impulse to reform social problems and to Christianize American institutions. It also fostered an otherworldly spirit that encouraged Christians to reject the things of this world, including political ambitions and financial gain, and to live as aliens sojourning through a strange land. Restoration Christians and Millerites, each in their own way, embraced this otherworldly spirit in their early days. This chapter argues that the early Mormons, in their own unique way, expressed a similar impulse. They rejected the reform efforts of denominational ministers who lacked divine authorization and who, therefore, worked only toward worldly ends. They also rejected the economic changes of the Jacksonian period and practiced various forms of communalism as they tried to

88 establish God’s kingdom on earth. Although they devoted more attention to material concerns than other sectarians, they did so, not because they were more worldly, but because they saw God’s kingdom as both spiritual and physical. Their experiments in communal living had the effect of alienating them from American society. Likewise, Mormons dabbled in politics only to further God’s kingdom, and their political involvement created further cultural isolation. Simply to point out that the Mormons were a people set apart would be stating the obvious. However, to examine their alienation in the context of Jacksonian religious developments is not a redundant endeavor. While this chapter primarily argues that Mormons expressed an otherworldly spirit similar to other Jacksonian sects, it also suggests something more generally about American religion in this period. Namely, that an otherworldly spirit was quite common among religious groups touched by the Second Great Awakening.

America’s most successful religious innovator, Joseph Smith, was associated by time and place with the Second Great Awakening. He was born December 23, 1805, in the small New England village of Sharon, Vermont, at about the time that Lyman Beecher was launching a religious crusade against dueling. Smith’s birth also closely coincided with the appointment of the liberal Henry Ware as Hollis Professor of Theology at Harvard, a decision that eventually led religious conservatives to abandon Harvard and establish Andover Theological Seminary. When the Smith family moved from New England to Palmyra, New York, in 1816, they found themselves even closer to the center of the awakening. Along the Erie Canal religious revivals and conversions abounded, especially during Charles Finney’s preaching tours, and this region proved fertile ground for new religious movements. Joseph Smith and his family were influenced by the revivals surrounding them, but the establishment of a new religious movement eventually separated them from the rest of evangelical America.7 Although the Smiths were a religious family, they belonged to no particular church. Joseph’s mother, Lucy Mack Smith, was most attracted to the religious revivals that surrounded them. She desired to have a conversion experience, but the numerous competing denominations discouraged her. In her later history of her son and family she

89 recalled these thoughts: “If I remain a member of no church, all religious people will say I am of the world; and if I join some one of the different denominations, all the rest will say I am in error…how can I decide in such a case as this, seeing they are all unlike the Church of Christ, as it existed in former days.”8 At one time she drew near to the Methodists, but her husband discouraged her joining. The threat of pain, illness, and death in her family kept her in constant prayer to God. She believed that her prayers were answered when she and her daughter were spared from impending death on separate occasions. Lucy again relied on her faith when young Joseph had part of his chin bone removed to relieve unbearable pain.9 Joseph’s father, also named Joseph, was less interested in religious revivals than Lucy, but he was not devoid of religious belief. His faith in dreams, visions and the power of seer stones made him unorthodox, but not irreligious.10 After a dream convinced him that religionists knew no more “concerning the Kingdom of God than those of the world,” he had no desire to join any church.11 Thus, Joseph Smith, Jr. grew up in a religious, but un-churched home sharing the faith and religious practices of both of his parents. His father’s example may have encouraged him to use seer stones, but his reputed skill in finding treasure by using the stones was something he earned on his own. So impressive were his skills that he was hired by a Joseph Stowell, a man who hoped young Joseph could help him find a hidden mine. After several treasure seekers became discouraged with their lack of findings, Peter Bridgeman, a nephew and neighbor of Stowell’s, charged Smith with being an impostor. In 1826, while Charles Finney was earning the enmity of Asahel Nettleton for his use of “new measures,” Joseph Smith was defending himself in court for his use of seer stones. Despite the support of Stowell, Smith lost his case.12 No record of Smith’s punishment has survived, but the consequences of this episode are worth speculation. Perhaps this event convinced Joseph Smith to pursue higher things. Although Mormons have not wasted time apologizing for Smith’s early reputation, they certainly consider Smith more admirable in his later years. Non-Mormons have often wondered if Smith’s trial made him more determined not to be caught in the weaving of a much more elaborate lie.13 While that debate will remain unresolved, people can agree that from this point on Joseph Smith became a pivotal person attracting some with his apparent charisma and infuriating others with his supposed fraudulency.

90 Folk magic did not constitute the whole of Smith’s religious experiences. Joseph followed his mother to religious revivals and became very interested in religious questions at the age of twelve. Like his mother, he was confused by the plurality of religious denominations each claiming to be keepers of the truth. According to Smith’s frequent retelling, he retreated to the woods one morning in 1820 to ask God which of the sects he should join and God replied that he should join none, for none were his true church. Because Joseph had leaned toward the Methodists before this vision, he told a Methodist minister of his incredible experience only to be rejected.14 Although it was the revivals of the Second Great Awakening that first stirred Smith’s religious thoughts, after his first vision he would never again seek guidance from any ministers. After his first vision Joseph Smith believed that the churches surrounding him had no authority from God. In 1823, a second series of visions convinced him that the scriptures contained in the Bible were incomplete. Joseph was praying in his room when an angel appeared to him in a bright light. The angel introduced himself as Moroni, an ancient American follower of God. Moroni told Joseph of a book written on gold plates where the story of America’s ancient inhabitants and Christ’s appearing before them was recorded. This book, Moroni explained, contained “the fullness of the everlasting gospel.” Buried with it were two special stones called Urim and Thummin inside a breastplate which would enable Joseph to translate the ancient book. Moroni warned Joseph not to show any of these items to anyone unless God commanded him otherwise. He repeated his exhortations to Joseph three times and left. The next day, Moroni returned to Joseph instructing him to tell his father of his vision. After he had done so, Moroni showed Joseph the golden plates. Joseph could not remove them, however, until he was able to keep God’s commandments. Until that day, Joseph was to return to the place where the plates were buried each year and wait for God’s appointed time to make his secret message known.15 Over the next four years Joseph Smith underwent what Mormons might consider a conversion experience. His religious habits were essentially unchanged in the immediate aftermath of his visit from Moroni. With his family in financial crisis and himself on trial, Smith had enough earthly concerns to occupy his mind. Love, too, diverted his attention. While working for Mr. Stowell, Joseph boarded with the Isaac

91 Hale family and fell in love with Isaac’s daughter, Emma. In 1827, Joseph and Emma eloped and were married. This union did not please Isaac Hale because he believed the negative picture painted of Joseph Smith at his trial. He did not see, as later Mormons would believe, that Smith was a changed man. On September 22, 1827, Moroni gave Joseph Smith the golden plates and the Urim and Thummin with which to translate them. These he kept hidden in a chest as he was charged with their safekeeping. The one time treasure hunter had now become worthy to receive the golden plates.16 Smith’s conversion, however, did not make him part of an existing religious community. Instead, it initiated his establishment of a new one. Events surrounding Smith’s translation of the golden plates foreshadowed the estrangement that developed between his followers and the surrounding community. Word of Smith’s discovery had already become too widespread for him to be able to translate the plates in Palmyra without interruption. So, Joseph and Emma Smith removed to nearby Harmony, Pennsylvania, to start translating the golden plates. The move was made possible by Martin Harris, a devoted believer in Smith’s abilities who gave the couple the necessary funds. Smith’s method of translation required not only separation from society, but isolation from his scribes. Behind a curtain dividing his work room, Joseph Smith peered into a sack at the Urim and Thummin which lay on top of the golden plates. Slowly the translated words would come to Joseph and Emma would write them down as he dictated. Martin Harris moved in with the Smiths in April 1828 and took over as scribe since Emma was pregnant. Just months earlier Smith had copied some ancient foreign characters as they appeared on the plates and translated a short sample for Harris to take to experts in the East for verification. According to Harris, Dr. Charles Anthon, a classics professor at Columbia University, verified the authenticity of the characters and the translation until he learned of their origins. Anthon obstinately rejected Smith’s story, but Harris became a confirmed believer. Consequently, Harris was ridiculed by his neighbors who once respected him for his integrity.17 Harris did not fully realize the alienation he would experience helping Smith translate Moroni’s golden plates until it created a rift between his wife and him that nearly ended Smith’s movement before it got started. After persistent prodding, Harris

92 convinced Smith to allow him to take the full manuscript, then totaling 116 pages, to show his family. According to Lucy Smith’s later retelling, Martin Harris’ wife had already done “all that lay in her power to injure Joseph in the estimation of his neighbors” convinced that Smith’s eye was “upon her husband’s property.”18 Despite her suspicions of Smith’s designs, Mrs. Harris was happy to keep his manuscript in her special bureau. Martin Harris proudly showed his work to all who visited. In doing so he violated an agreement he made with Smith that he would only show the manuscript to his family. He also damaged his wife’s bureau by picking the lock in order to show a visitor the manuscript. Harris was panic-stricken when he could no longer find the manuscript. Most speculate that Mrs. Harris burned it or hid it with the intention of altering it, but both Martin Harris and Joseph Smith assumed responsibility for its loss.19 According to Smith, God blamed him for the loss and had Moroni take away the plates, the Urim and Thummin.20 This loss, coupled with the death of Joseph’s newborn son, Alvin, nearly ended the movement. Joseph Smith learned through this episode and through revelation that he had erred in listening to men rather than God. He had unwisely been swayed by Harris’ urgings. Moroni admonished him for this when he returned the plates and seer stones to Joseph. Smith became more keenly aware of the ways in which the world could thwart his efforts. If a devoted follower like Harris could hinder Smith’s mission, how much more could a true enemy stand in the way of the church’s restoration? The lost manuscript, now possibly in enemy hands, could be used against Smith should he fail to retranslate in precisely the same manner. If a direct revelation from God had not prevented Smith from retranslating what had been lost, he might have come to that conclusion independently. Fortunately for Smith, other plates in his possession, the plates of Nephi, contained much the same story as those already translated from the plates of Mormon. Thus, the work of translating the golden bible continued.21 In the closing months of translation, Smith continued to drift further from secular society, but he also drew closer to a new assistant, Oliver Cowdery. While teaching school in Palmyra, Cowdery had learned of Joseph’s work. Since Cowdery too was a young religious seeker and a believer in visions and supernatural gifts, he was drawn to Joseph. He lived with Joseph and Lucy Smith until the family had to move in with their

93 son Hyrum. Cowdery then moved to Harmony to help Joseph complete his translation. Martin Harris and Emma Smith gave way to the new scribe and he and Joseph toiled together. Cowdery cherished the days he spent working with Joseph for he was convinced that he was sitting “under a voice dictated by the inspiration of heaven.”22 Joseph was also blessed by their association. Never had he experienced such closeness with Harris. No blanket divided the room during translation as it had before. Smith and Cowdery even shared visions together. One day while praying during a break from translating, they were visited by an angelic John the Baptist who conferred upon them the Priesthood of Aaron and restored to this pair the authority to baptize, something Smith had come to believe was absent in surrounding churches. Each man then baptized the other to seal their appointment. Cowdery also proved himself useful in a very practical way by introducing Smith to another young man, David Whitmer. As distractions in Harmony stymied their work, Whitmer moved the Smith family to his home in Fayette, New York where the translating work drew to a close.23 The pace of Smith’s work quickened with Cowdery’s help and the Book of Mormon was finished by July of 1829.24 Those who had worked with Smith, especially Martin Harris, still sought assurance that the work had been from God. Both Smith’s revelations and the Book of Mormon mentioned the role of witnesses in carrying the divine message. So, Joseph Smith chose Cowdery, Whitmer, and a forgiven Harris to be witnesses of the golden plates. The four prayed together in the woods, but saw nothing until Harris had removed himself. Then, the angel Moroni appeared and showed the plates to Cowdery and Whitmer. The vision was repeated for the third witness when Smith found Harris deeper in the woods. On a second occasion, eight witnesses viewed the plates.25 Controversy has continued to surround these two events. For non-Mormons, the fact that all witnesses were members of only a few tight knit families leaves the possibility of conspiracy open. The publication of differing accounts by the first three witnesses may suggest collective deception more than conspiracy.26 The fact that witnesses viewed the plates through the “eyes of faith” rather than beholding them physically has also raised doubts. For believers, however, the visions were real. Despite the fact that each of the first three witnesses eventually broke ties with Smith, none ever denied that they had witnessed the

94 plates.27 They were convinced of something that seemed strange or unbelievable to outsiders. If events surrounding the writing of The Book of Mormon made Smith’s followers seem peculiar, the content of the book would do so even more. Although few copies were sold when first published in Palmyra in 1830, the public had some knowledge of the Book of Mormon thanks to Abner Cole who published portions of the book in his newspaper without permission. The prospect that Joseph Smith, a young man of questionable reputation, had received a special commission from God was skeptically received. Cole dismissed Smith’s supernatural claims though faith in the Bible required a similar faith in the miraculous. This criticism failed to explain how the uneducated Smith managed to write a book at all. Residents of Palmyra explained that Smith had little original material since much was copied or paraphrased from the Bible.28 Alexander Campbell, however, saw as much similarity between the Book of Mormon and the Bible as that shared between a bat and the American eagle.29 Campbell sensed more of the world’s influence in Smith’s book. This prophet Smith, through his stone spectacles, wrote…every error and almost every truth discussed in New York for the last ten years. He decided all the great controversies: infant baptism, ordination, the trinity, regeneration, repentance, justification, the fall of man, the atonement, transubstantiation, fasting, penance, church government, religious experience, the call to the ministry, general resurrection, eternal punishment, who may baptize, and even the question of free masonry, republican government and the rights of man.30

Campbell went on to criticize Smith’s knowledge of Judean history and geography and further questioned how a book that had been compiled over so many years could stylistically seem to come from a single hand.31 Criticisms such as Campbell’s and those circulating Palmyra’s press helped make Joseph Smith, like so many other prophets, without honor in his hometown. The book that inspired such controversy tells the story of an ancient Israelite family’s migration to America and their descendents’ subsequent episodes of faith and apostasy. The narrative begins with a prophet named Lehi who predicted the coming destruction of Jerusalem just prior to the Babylonian conquest.32 Not finding a receptive audience, Lehi and his family took to the wilderness along the Red Sea. There, in accordance with God’s will, they built a vessel that would carry them to America. Even

95 before departing, two of Lehi’s sons, Laman and Lemuel, questioned the faith and prophecies of their father. Lehi’s faithful sons included Nephi, Samuel, Jacob and a youngest son foreshadowing Smith named Joseph. Continual warfare between the faithful Nephites and the treacherous Lamanites constitutes the majority of the Book of Mormon. The family resemblance between these tribes was removed when God cursed the Lamanites with dark skin. Generations of warfare and cycles of sin and repentance ceased temporarily when the resurrected Christ made his appearance to both civilizations in America. Jesus appointed twelve apostles and instructed these ancient Americans on the structure and purpose of his church and other doctrinal issues. After Jesus’ ascension the Nephites and Lamanites renewed their hostilities. Mormon, a military and spiritual leader of the Nephites from 327-385AD, had become the keeper of the plates of Nephi upon which the secular and spiritual history of his people was recorded. Sensing that the end was near, Mormon summarized Nephite history on his own plates and included his own commentary before leading the Nephites into one final decisive battle in which they were all but wiped out. Before his death, Mormon made his son, Moroni, the protector of the plates. Moroni, the last survivor of the Nephite people, completed what would eventually become the Book of Mormon by adding his story to the Nephite narrative and abridging the story of another group of ancients. Jared, present when God confused people’s language at the Tower of Babel, took his family to the wilderness and then to America in watertight barges according to God’s instructions. His descendents also destroyed one another leaving only one faithful survivor, Ether, to record the Jaradite story. The political, military and spiritual history of the Nephites, Lamanites, and Jaredites constitute the Book of Mormon. Although the majority who read the Book of Mormon rejected its spiritual and historical validity, some immediately felt that by reading it they had learned the fullness of the gospel.33 For them, the Book of Mormon became an inspirational guide to their lives. This was not so much because the Book of Mormon established the foundation of doctrine and religious practice for Joseph Smith’s followers. His own continued revelations did that. The Book of Mormon was especially important because its faithful believers found in it examples of how God’s saints were to live among the ungodly. Throughout the Book of Mormon a remnant of God’s people remained boldly calling

96 others to repentance. In those times when the remnant was overwhelmed by the unbelieving majority, they fled to the wilderness for protection, separation and re- consecration. Regardless of the odds, even when the remnant dwindled to a single individual, the faithful still held to the truth and preserved their stories for future believers.34 Such lessons were very important to a group who was constantly pressed by non-believers around them. Their alienation helped them identify with the faithful of old and assured them all the more of the gospel they now preached. The completion of the Book of Mormon was only the beginning of Joseph Smith’s ministry. He desired not only the revelation of new scriptures, but the establishment of a new community of God’s people. More accurately, Smith’s followers were to be the re- establishment of the true church, an entity that he believed had ceased to exist shortly after the apostolic age. Having experienced revelations concerning the church’s re- establishment, Smith officially gathered the Church of Christ together on April 6, 1830 in Fayette, New York.35 The congregation, numbering about fifty people, consisted primarily of the Smith and Whitmer families. Both family ties and outside pressures bound the new community together. Smith was arrested in two separate counties charged again with disorderly conduct. In both cases, local authorities sought unsuccessfully to impede the stirrings Smith had caused among his new followers. Both cases were dismissed and the new converts were more devoted to Smith than ever. In Colesville, New York, Joseph Knight’s family demonstrated their loyalty by defending him in court, testifying that he had miraculously healed Newell Knight, and even paid for his defense.36 While newer members drew closer to Joseph Smith, old associates challenged his leadership. Oliver Cowdery, who had shared several visions with Smith in the recent past, believed he detected error in Smith’s recent revelation about the qualifications of baptism. He and the Whitmer family were convinced that Smith’s position, requiring that members show signs of receiving the Holy Spirit, sounded too akin to Puritan strictures of membership and opened the door to “priestcraft.”37 Cowdery and the Whitmers also accepted as authoritative the revelations of Hiram Page whose seer stone enabled him to compile quite a list of revelations. Joseph Smith’s authority was questioned, especially since he no longer had the Urim and Thummin. The prospect of competing visions

97 threatened the unity of the church, just as Anne Hutchinson’s visions had divided Massachusetts. First by argument, then by revelation Smith convinced Cowdery and the rest of his followers that “no one shall be appointed to receive commandments and revelations in this church, except….Joseph Smith, jun., for he receiveth them even as Moses.”38 That same revelation instructed Cowdery to preach among the Lamanites.39 Joseph Smith maintained the movement’s unity by making his the only voice of God’s commands.40 The new church was also united by its common cause, to spread the fullness of the gospel. In this task, the Mormons resembled the evangelical churches also on a quest to evangelize the world in one generation. The Second Great Awakening’s attack on Calvinism empowered and inspired Christians to work toward the salvation of all individuals and the purification of society itself. Smith’s followers shared the first goal with other Christian missionaries, but worked quite differently to achieve it. Mormons did not possess the numbers or resources necessary to organize missionary societies, Bible societies and tract societies. Instead, they each became responsible for teaching and distributing the Book of Mormon. Their message was harder for the surrounding culture to accept. Evangelical Christians had only to encourage and awaken an already Christianized culture while Mormons had the additional tasks of convincing others that Joseph Smith was a prophet, that theirs was the only true church, and that baptisms performed by non-Mormons were unauthorized. Their message was so alien to the surrounding culture Richard Bushman likened them to “the first apostles in a world that had never heard of Christianity.”41 Despite the difficulty, Mormons did draw a number of followers to their ranks outside of their core families and opened doors that would lead them closer to their promised land. Mormons found especially fertile soil among Restoration Christians. This was most likely because of similarities between Alexander Campbell’s and Joseph Smith’s teachings on restoration and baptism. Mormons saw themselves as the restored first century church much like Campbell’s listeners did. Mormons also immersed adult believers for the remission of their sins, a practice Campbell was famous for defending.42 Thus, it is not surprising that Parley Pratt, a young Campbellite preacher from Ohio, was drawn to the Mormons while visiting New York. He did not believe the church could be

98 fully restored without the miraculous workings of the Holy Spirit and a clear line of authority back to the apostles. Joseph Smith provided both. Just months after his conversion, Pratt joined Oliver Cowdery on his westward mission among the Lamanites. He guided the missionary team to Mentor, Ohio, where they preached to his former congregation led by Sidney Rigdon. Rigdon was a close associate of Alexander Campbell’s and none too hasty to accept Smith’s missionaries. However, a sharp disagreement with Campbell over Christian communalism left him feeling that the church’s restoration was incomplete. After reading the Book of Mormon, Rigdon and over a hundred in his congregation were converted. This success and another revelation inspired the New York Mormons to travel west to join the rest of their spiritual family.43 Naturally, Sydney Rigdon quickly became Smith’s new right hand man. He was the only experienced minister yet to have joined the Mormons and his influence was already evidenced by the number of his congregants that followed him into Mormonism. Outsiders recognizing Rigdon’s abilities assumed that had been the founder of this movement. It seemed more likely to them that Rigdon, not Smith, had first conceived of the Book of Mormon.44 Even if this was not truly the case, Rigdon’s aid to Smith was substantial. When two minister converts, Ezra Booth and Simonds Ryder, turned against Smith becoming ardent opponents of Mormonism, Rigdon defended the prophet challenging the apostates to debates. Though they refused, Rigdon demonstrated his loyalty to Smith even more forcefully when he was tarred and feathered along with the prophet by a mob led by Simonds Ryder.45 Rigdon’s most significant contribution to Smith’s religious movement was the introduction of a communal system that would, in various forms, become a distinguishing feature of Mormonism. As a restorationist, Ridgon had great interest in the ways in which first century Christians took care of each other’s needs. He was convinced that early Christians lived communally, sharing all their goods and considering nothing their own. And his congregation lived thusly. At least on some level, Smith had to appreciate their communal experiment. Ancient Americans lived in much the same way, according to the Book of Mormon.46 Smith also had several revelations in which God encouraged a degree of income equality among the saints.47 However, Smith replaced Rigdon’s communal experiment with the law of consecration and stewardship. Under this plan

99 each church member consecrated their possessions to the Church. In return they became stewards over their possessions giving their surplus to the bishop’s storehouse.48 In Kirtland, Ohio, Mormons did what many Christians in Jacksonian America did, they prepared for the coming of God’s millennial kingdom. Again, as with so many things, they did so in their own unique way. Although Mormons were quite optimistic about their own futures, they did not share the post-millennial views of the majority of their countrymen. The idea that God’s kingdom had already been established in the hearts of his people and that American society was bound for continual improvement was repugnant to them. The message of Joseph Smith, like that of other sectarians, was pre- millennial. He and his lieutenants, Sydney Rigdon and Parley Pratt, warned others to awaken from their post-millennial slumber.49 Christ’s return, they preached, would be sudden and destructive for all of those not among the saints. The fate awaiting “gentiles” made “the gathering” of the saints in Kirtland all the more significant. It was a refuge from a lost world, a meeting place for those looking for Christ’s return.50 While they waited, however, the gathered saints faced more hardship in their attempts to create Christ’s kingdom on earth. The trouble started not in Kirtland, but near Independence, Missouri. Not long after Joseph Smith’s followers migrated to Ohio further revelations instructed Smith, Rigdon and other church leaders to go to Missouri where God promised his covenanted people a refuge.51 On the outskirts of white settlement in Jackson County, Missouri, Smith and company established the community of Zion and consecrated land for the building of a great temple. A group of Mormons from Colesville, New York, first helped populate the community and on their heels were hundreds following the encouragement of Joseph Smith and the Evening and Morning Star, Zion’s own newspaper distributed beyond the gathering.52 Thus, two parallel communities grew simultaneously in 1831; a brand new community where all Mormons were to gather eventually in Missouri and a much larger and well established weigh station in Ohio. Zion’s residents were more than a little irritated that their prophet still lived near Kirtland and made only two visits to the place where the saints were to convene.53 Of much greater consequence was the animosity Missouri Mormons aroused among their neighbors. No cosmopolitans of Puritan stock, Jackson County’s frontier residents resented the rapid development of Zion and considered its promulgators a

100 political, economic, religious and cultural threat. Missourians already chafed by the Mormons’ missionary efforts among the Indians, their block voting habits, their religious peculiarities and their economic communalism were not at all pleased when an article in the Evening and Morning Star seemed to encourage the migration of free blacks to Zion. Despite the editor’s efforts to dispel rumors and fears, Missourians prepared to remove the 1200 Mormons in Jackson County before thousands more descended on Zion. They presented the Mormons with a petition to that effect. Some signed the petition under the duress of mob action in July 1833. Others withdrew to Clay County only after more violent confrontations in the fall. Mormons sought redress from the state government, but they quickly determined that justice could be achieved only through self-reliance. Armed saints from Kirtland marched one thousand miles to help defend their brothers and sisters and to guarantee their property rights. Zion’s Camp, as they were called, only narrowly avoided going to war with Missouri’s state militia before returning to Kirtland.54 While Missouri Mormons struggled to regroup those in Kirtland enjoyed a golden age of ecclesiastical, theological and communal development. Joseph Smith had already announced the restoration of the Aaronic and Melchizedek priesthoods and had established the First Presidency to oversee the church.55 In 1834 he instituted two other ecclesiastical bodies, the Quorum of Twelve Apostles and the Quorum of Seventy.56 Both groups symbolized the church’s restoration; the first represented Christ’s apostles and the twelve tribes of Israel and the latter mirrored the seventy missionaries Jesus sent out in pairs to proclaim the nearness of God’s Kingdom and to warn people of a fate worse than Sodom’s.57 These Kirtland years were characterized by the maturation of the Mormon’s church structure and by scriptural and theological development. Joseph Smith collected, revised and published his revelations in Doctrine and Covenants, a work that remains sacred among the saints.58 He also obtained lost scriptures supposedly written by the patriarch Abraham. Smith purchased ancient papyri and mummies from a traveler displaying his personal collection of Egyptian artifacts and from these he translated the Book of Abraham.59 Together with Smith’s personal history, the Articles of Faith and additional revelations expanding on Genesis called the Book of Moses, this translation helps comprise a third sacred Mormon text, The Pearl of Great Price.

101 While Smith’s continual translations and revelations added to the biblical narrative they also altered Mormon theology making it even more distinct. The most significant theological innovations in the Kirtland years were those that altered Mormon’s conceptions of heaven and hell. New revelations convinced Smith that heaven was comprised of three levels of descending glory, the celestial, terrestrial, and telestial kingdoms. The first was reserved for the “church of the first born,” those who accepted Jesus, were immersed in an authorized baptism and who kept Christ’s commandments.60 The second level was reserved for good people who had received God’s glory, “but not his fullness;” believers who had not accepted Joseph Smith’s restoration.61 The final circle of heaven was reserved for those who had never received the gospel and had thus never really rejected it. After “being thrust down to hell” even these would dwell in heaven.62 Only believers who later rejected truth would experience a “second death” in hell.63 While this revelation was almost universalist in nature, assuring some degree of heaven to most people, it offered little extra incentive to Mormons. If faithful, they could spend eternity in God’s presence, as they expected, but if unfaithful, they would be worse off than the unbeliever. The more hopeful and inspiring aspect of this revelation was that all people would know Christ as Lord upon their resurrection; he was assured the spiritual victory. All that remained was for his church to prepare for his coming by restoring his kingdom on earth. This they did by constructing a temple whose completion was coupled with an outpouring of spiritual gifts and blessed visitations by Jesus, Moses and Elijah.64 As Kirtland Mormons built their community and conducted business they were assured that their efforts would be rewarded with similar divine blessings. Regardless of the distinct spiritual motivation behind Mormon business activities, they felt the same negative consequences of overextended credit that gentiles experienced in the Panic of 1837. Mormons had already borrowed extensively to purchase land and construct the Kirtland temple whose completion dried up an important source of capital. Smith hoped, therefore, to remedy this problem by opening a bank in Kirtland as God had supposedly instructed him to do. It was, after all, the age of Jackson and small wildcat banks were taking root everywhere. When the Locofocos of the state legislature refused to charter the new bank, the prefix “anti” was simply added to the already printed bills and the Kirtland Safety Society Anti-Banking Company was born.65

102 Bills from this institution were backed not by specie, but by land, and were therefore not redeemable for anything of value. Rather than helping liquidate Smith’s debt of approximately one hundred thousand dollars, the failure of the Kirtland Bank brought numerous lawsuits against Smith and managed to pull other investors down with it.66 Mormon scholars offer a variety of explanations which seem more palatable to them than accepting Smith’s mismanagement. Some suggest that members’ speculation, pride and apostasy caused the bank’s downfall, while others claim that Kirtland’s bank, although financially sound, simply fell prey to economic forces beyond its control.67 Neither of these explanations, however, remove the sting of what followed. Smith and his followers left their property and their debts behind in haste and joined their brothers and sisters in Missouri.68 This move only heightened tensions already in existence between Mormons and other Missourians and would be followed by yet another flight for refuge. As the welcome for Missouri saints in Clay County had worn thin, most moved to newly established Caldwell County where they established the Far West settlement. Kirtland saints then moved to Davies County and established a smaller town where Smith believed Adam had lived after his expulsion from Eden, Adam-ondi-Ahman.69 Again the saints embraced their connections to the God of the Old Testament, but found themselves still a people in search of a promised land. Angered by block voting, the creation of the Danites, a secret Mormon defense organization, and the combative oratory of Sidney Rigdon’s Independence Day Speech, the once relatively tolerant people of northern Missouri turned their fury on the Mormons and the so-called Mormon War was underway.70 When Mormons in Gallatin, Davies County were not allowed to vote, an armed band of Saints led by Joseph Smith paid a visit to the county judge and secured what they thought was his support.71 Judge Black’s report charged the Mormons with armed intimidation and ignited passions against them. Following this was a series of armed clashes, exaggerated reports of atrocities and more violent clashes. The worst of these, the Haun Hill Massacre on October 30, 1838, was given legal sanction by Governor Boggs’ declaration that the Mormons had to be exterminated or driven out. Mass arrests the next day may have led to mass executions had not General Alexander Doniphan refused to carry out the order.72 Smith and others lingered in prison awaiting

103 the state’s punishment until guards allowed them to escape to while being taken to another county.73 It would be Smith’s last successful flight from his enemies. Once again the Mormons repeated the labors of community building they had already endured in Ohio and Missouri. This time their gathering seemed more assured of peace than ever. Newcomer James Bennett managed to get a favorable charter granting the saint’s city of Nauvoo its own militia, municipal court, university and control over its local affairs.74 The once shunned people were welcomed in Illinois where evenly matched Democrats and Whigs curried their favor.75 Smith and his followers, taking full advantage of their autonomy, created their grandest community yet. Nauvoo grew to be the second largest city in the state next to with a population of about 12,000. Mormons succeeded in business, erected another temple, and sent overseas missionaries to England.76 With their autonomy they also felt freer to practice their most peculiar religious rituals. According to biographer Fawn Brodie, Joseph Smith was a polygamist before he came to Nauvoo, but it was only in this last stage of his life that plural marriage was openly sanctioned. Many women, some of whom were already married, were joined to Joseph Smith, some in physical unions and others in a purely spiritual sense.77 While in Nauvoo, Smith also introduced the doctrine of eternal marriage, which assured all couples whose vows were “sealed” by the Holy Spirit in the temple that their marriage bonds would be everlasting. “Then they shall be Gods,” Smith revealed, “because they have no end.”78 In a funeral address for King Follette, Smith elaborated on the prospect of man’s divinity by explaining God’s origins saying, “God himself was once as we are now, and is an exalted man, and sits enthroned in yonder heavens!”79 If this prospect of divinity encouraged the gathered at Nauvoo, so too did the practice of proxy baptisms for the dead whereby saints could retroactively save their departed loved ones, or misguided Christians of the past who had never received an authorized baptism.80 Nauvoo Mormons, it seemed, were limited neither by the heavens, nor the grave. The world, however, continued to creep in and threaten their community. Its first manifestation was in the person of John C. Bennett who arrived in Nauvoo in August 1840 and quickly rose to the position of Assistant President. From this elevated office he abused the plural marriage system and was excommunicated from the church. Bennett bitterly sought to expose the church’s institutions deemed most dangerous by gentiles, the

104 practice of plural marriage and the existence of the Danite militia.81 Both the Democrats and the Whigs hoped to capitalize on Bennett’s expose, the latter by publishing it and the former by denouncing their publication as a “Whig plot.”82 Neither party could consistently use the Mormons toward their own ends. Attempts to do so usually led to their own exploitation. Because Mormons’ collective political voices could swing elections one way or the other, their votes were both coveted and resented. Anti-Mormon political sentiment intensified when Joseph Smith announced his own bid for the presidency of the United States in 1844 after the other candidates and Congress showed little interest in forcing a favorable settlement for their Missouri losses.83 The past haunted the saints in a very real way when Joseph Smith became the prime suspect in an assassination attempt on Missouri’s Governor Boggs in May 1842.84 In hiding, Smith temporarily escaped the dangerous encroachments of the world. Two years later Smith was again pursued by Illinois officials. Outside of Nauvoo citizens were appalled by the news that Smith had ordered the destruction of the Nauvoo Expositor, a paper which considered him a fallen prophet. Smith’s autocratic rule confirmed what many had suspected of the Mormons; that their principles and organization were contrary to American principles. Thus, mobs prepared for action against the saints as Mormons prepared to defend themselves. Joseph and Hyrum Smith crossed the Mississippi River to join the Mormon community in Iowa, but returned when civil war seemed likely. They were taken to Carthage, Illinois, to await trial. Although Illinois’ Governor Ford promised the prophet a fair trial, his presence in Nauvoo left the Smith brothers at the mercy of the Carthage mob. As his assassins broke through the door of his cell, Smith defended himself with a gun smuggled in by one of the saints, but this only delayed their designs. Joseph Smith was shot and killed while trying to escape through the prison window and his brother Hyrum was murdered in the prison cell.85 Once the founder of a peculiar restoration movement and now a martyred saint; Joseph Smith had paid the ultimate price for religious alienation.

Joseph Smith’s life and the religious movement he initiated were unquestionably unique. Even in America, where the absence of a religious establishment has often seemed to be an invitation for the development of new religious movements, the

105 Mormons had no parallel. They shared little more than specific traits with various other groups. With Shakers and the Oneida Community they shared a rejection of traditional family structures, with Christians they shared an insistence on baptism via immersion for the forgiveness of sins, and with Universalists they shared the belief that evil persons could be redeemed after death.86 Perhaps the strongest connection Mormons had with any other group was that between them and the other sectarian groups of the Jacksonian period. All of these groups saw themselves as pilgrims longing for their heavenly homes. None but the Mormons had to relocate physically, but all sojourned mentally beyond their earthly dwellings. In one way or another, they had all rejected the world, its politics, its economics, and its efforts to reform itself. Mormons, as one might expect, did so in their own unique way. Their material understanding of all existence allowed them, nay compelled them, to participate more openly in certain matters considered worldly by other sectarians, but they still rejected the world as strongly as other sectarians did. An examination of their political, economic and reformist views will bear this out. In their political behaviors and attitudes Mormons did not appear otherworldly at all. Their active participation in politics and devotion to American political institutions seemingly set them apart from other sectarians. Joseph Smith did not discourage political participation as a distraction from spiritual pursuits as Barton Stone had. Rather, he encouraged block voting as a means to empower the restored church. Nor did Smith and the Mormons become less politically involved as they looked forward to Christ’s return as the Millerites had. Instead, Smith grew increasingly involved in politics and even became a candidate for president of the United States in his final year. Although his candidacy was no threat to the real contenders in the race, it upset those already bothered by what seemed to be the political ambitions of the Mormon movement. Their neighbors in Ohio, Missouri and Illinois strongly resented Mormons’ collective efforts to influence local politics. Millerites were ridiculed for their withdrawal from politics; Mormons were persecuted for their participation. Other sectarians viewed politics as a secular affair that distracted from spiritual affairs, but Mormons, making no distinction between the two, used political means to achieve their spiritual ends.87

106 The union of politics, religion and American citizenship was strongly reinforced by divine revelations. Joseph Smith, speaking for God, told his followers that they must “organize themselves according to the laws of man.”88 Again, he repeated, “Let no man break the laws of the land, for he that keepeth the laws of God hath no need to break the laws of the land. Wherefore, be subject to the powers that be….”89 Such encouragements to respect the ruling authorities were not unique to Mormons since biblical writers made this a duty as well. However, biblical admonitions concerning subjection to governments were written with respect to the Roman government or governments in general. After eighteen hundred years, the absolutism of those biblical commands had obviously faded since Christians often justified rebellion, denied the divine right of kings, and insisted that governments uphold more fundamental laws lest they compel Christians to replace them. Joseph Smith’s revelations were given specifically to Americans who were to uphold the US Constitution. Strict adherence to the Bible’s commands to be subject to the governing authorities may not have prevented an American Revolution, but Smith’s pronouncements demanded respect for the government that finally arose after that revolution. Just as the spiritual and the secular were united in the Mormon mind, so too, was Mormonism and American political institutions. The noble political traditions to which Christian citizens owed their allegiance, Mormons learned, had existed in America long before the Constitution, the Articles of Confederation, or the establishment of the English colonies. According to the Book of Mormon, the establishment of the church and of a democratic tradition occurred simultaneously under the leadership of the Nephite priest, Alma. Alma looms large among Mormon saints because he initiated the rite of baptism, ordained the first priests and established the church in ancient America. He did this after fleeing to the wilderness to escape King Noah, a monarch who had already killed an earlier prophet. Alma’s followers hoped to make him their king, but he refused to accept the position saying: “Behold it is not expedient that we should have a king; for thus saith the Lord: Ye shall not esteem one flesh above another; therefore I say unto you it is not expedient that ye should have a king. Nevertheless, if it were possible that ye could always have just men to be your kings it would be well for you to have a king.”90 By rejecting the idea of

107 monarchy and embracing equality because of the corruptibility of mankind, Alma sounded more like Revolutionary era Americans than like the biblical Samuel who discouraged the Israelites quest for a king because it would undermine their theocracy under the direct leadership of God as king.91 After the death of King Noah and a brief period of exile, the Nephites had a just king, but one who was as committed to classical liberalism as Alma. He too believed that good kings were desirable, but rare. If kings used God’s commands as a higher law to which they were accountable, if God’s law served as a constitution, Mosiah favored monarchy.92 Despite the church’s persecution at the hands of unbelievers, Mosiah insisted that “there should be no persecutions among them” and “that there should be an equality among all men.”93 Taking this higher road the modern reader can almost hear him say along with Thomas Jefferson, “It does me no injury for my neighbor to say there are twenty gods or no God. It neither picks my pocket nor breaks my leg.”94 Later, Mosiah showed himself to be somewhat of a democrat by saying: Therefore, choose you by the voice of the people, judges, that ye may be judged according to the laws which have been given you by our fathers, which are correct, and which were given them by the hand of the Lord….Now it is not common that the voice of the people desireth anything contrary to that which is right; but it is common for the lesser part of the people to desire that which is not right; therefore, this shall ye observe and make it your law – to do your business by the voice of the people.95

Having read the Book of Mormon, Latter Day Saints could not help but notice the mutually beneficial relationship that existed between God’s church and a democratic republican form of government. A general conference of the Mormon Church held in 1835 expressed their faith in America’s political institutions by outlining their collective views in an appendix to the Doctrine and Covenants. They asserted, first of all, that “governments were instituted by God for the benefit of man.” They were to respect individual’s property, maintain religious freedom, and protect citizen’s lives while citizens were expected to honor their magistrates, sustain their governments and uphold the laws. These were the terms of the covenant binding on both parties. Conference members also asserted that “men should appeal to the civil law for redress of all wrongs and grievances….” while maintaining that “men are justified in defending themselves…when immediate appeal cannot be made

108 to the laws and relief afforded.”96 The fact that Mormons repeatedly appealed to the civil authorities over their property losses in Missouri illustrates their faith in the divinely instituted American government. Thomas O’Dea most astutely analyzed Mormons’ devotion to American political institutions saying, …it must be recalled that the Mormon idea of America as a promised land included an official recognition of American political institutions as divinely appointed. The Mormon church saw in the discovery of this continent and its settlement the preparation for the restoration of which it claimed itself to be the institutional embodiment. The free political institutions of the United States were seen as strategically important in this regard and the Saints believed and today still believe that the Constitution was divinely inspired.97

Outside of Latter Day Saints’ scripture Joseph Smith proclaimed the blessings of America’s political tradition. In his “Powers and Policy of the Government,” published in conjunction with his presidential candidacy, Smith praised nearly every national leader in America between Ben Franklin and Andrew Jackson. It mattered not that the “golden patriot” Franklin, “the illustrious Washington,” “the respected and venerable Thomas Jefferson,” Madison, Monroe, the elder and younger Adams, and Andrew Jackson represented such diverse political views that they could not have been fully pleased with their inclusion in Smith’s hall of patriots given their company. Smith lauded Washington’s strengthening of the army and John Adams’ nationalism just before applauding Jefferson, an opponent of both. Similarly, Smith compliments Andrew Jackson for paying off the national debt just after giving John Quincy Adams his due for overseeing the nation’s development.98 Whether Smith was uninterested or unaware of the differences that existed between these politicians is unclear. What does stand out is that the founder of the Mormon church wanted to align his movement with the rich tradition of America’s political past. The seamless progress of the American republic “began to decline under the withering touch of Martin Van Buren!” Smith insisted.99 Only then did partisanship, patronage, priestcraft and spiritual wickedness corrupt the American government. The death of William Henry Harrison dimmed any hopes of reversing these trends. Thus, Smith threw his hat in the ring in 1844 “to restore the Government to its pristine health and vigor.”100 Smith was not content to restore Christ’s church, he also hoped to restore America’s political greatness.

109 In this same publication Smith laid out his most complete political platform for helping Americans “arise, phoenix like, over the cinders of Martin Van Buren’s power….”101 His plan, if it can be called such, expressed grand, unrealistic dreams, but not a consistent political ideology. In some ways it was quite democratic. Smith assured people that if he were elected President, he would do all he could to carry out the people’s wishes with regard to slavery, territorial expansion and banking.102 However, his suggestion that Congressional membership should be cut by “at least two-thirds,” having only “two members to a million population,” would have made the House of Representatives a more elite club than any Federalist imagined. To be fair, Smith was not motivated by elitism, but by a desire to rid the nation of bureaucracy which had, he believed, “shorn our nation of its goodly locks in the lap of Delilah.”103 For those few who became US Congressmen, Smith suggested that they receive “two dollars and their board per diem, except Sundays.” While he advocated curtailing legislators’ pay, Smith also wished to enhance the power of the national and state executives giving them more power to suppress mobs. In cases where “the Governor himself may be a mobber,” as Mormons thought Missouri’s Governor Boggs had been, Smith hoped the president could intervene with a free hand. This was hardly the consensus among majoritarians. Similarly, Smith advocated a stronger military and the elimination of court marshals for deserters. Smith’s economic plans seemed to betray his own experience and convictions. He advocated a great national bank with branches in each of the states and territories. The bank’s leaders would be popularly elected and it would not issue more bills than its capital stock. The Kirtland Anti-Bank might have done well to follow that advice. Smith opposed speculators and inequality, but still supported the re-issuance of a national bank.104 Smith’s program was consistent in two respects. First, it expressed an almost utopian faith in the ability of the American community to improve individuals and society. All convicts but murderers could be safely released with the simple admonition to “Go thy way and sin no more.”105 After this purging of the penitentiary system, Smith hoped to turn prisons into “seminaries of learning” where instead of being punished, prisoners could do public works improving both society and themselves. Lawyers too, after their repentance, could serve the public, according to Smith, by preaching the gospel

110 without pay giving people a “learned priesthood” rather than a “hireling ministry.” Smith proposed simple, but unworkable, solutions for even the nation’s most difficult problems. Slavery could be ended peacefully when Congress appropriated funds to compensate slave owners. Without doing the math, Smith believed the funds would be available once Congress’s size and pay had been reduced. Likewise, Smith offered fanciful solutions to the problems of territorial expansion saying that he would welcome Oregon, Texas, Canada and Mexico into this blessed union. Besides persistently expressing dreamy notions, Smith was consistently opposed to partisanship. He would be neither a Democratic nor a Whig candidate. His platform borrowed from both parties sponsoring equality and territorial expansion like the Democrats, as well as banks and social reforms like the Whigs. Thus, Joseph Smith and the Mormons cherished American political institutions, participated in politics by voting, petitioning and campaigning, and they supported a mixed program which did not identify them as either Democrats or Whigs. Mormons’ political participation, however, cannot be understood simply as a natural response to their faith in American institutions. Politically, Mormons were nothing if not practical. They participated as they did primarily out of necessity. Stoneite Christians could discourage political participation because they had nothing to lose collectively by ignoring politics. Mormons were not in such a position. With lost property to reclaim and persecution from others who considered them un-American, it was in their best interest to participate politically.106 Notwithstanding the close ties between the Mormon Church and American political institutions, with its democratic and republican ideals, and its separation of church and state, political participation was not an end in itself; for Mormons, it was a means to an end. In Smith’s political platform he denounced partisan politics, but in practice he tried to use it to protect the Saints’ interests. When Mormons were fighting to retrieve their property in Jackson County, Missouri they became heavily involved in politics. Since working through appeals failed at every level, they organized Zion’s camp. In Ohio, several leading Mormons held local offices as Democrats.107 Mormons also supported Andrew Jackson in the hopes that he would address their Missouri grievances. This was ironic since Jackson’s states’ rights preference made him a poor savior to the

111 Mormons.108 The Democrats’ emphasis on individualism also made it a strange party for the autocratic and communitarian Mormons. Still, Mormons and Democrats shared the conviction that religious and moral beliefs and practices were purely personal.109 Both parties obviously realized the power of the Mormon vote. That is why Northern Missouri citizens tried to keep them from voting in 1838 and why the evenly matched parties of Illinois welcomed them the next year. As these parties hoped to use the Mormons for their purposes, Smith did the same with the parties. He pledged the Mormons’ votes to Cyrus Walker, an attorney and Whig candidate for Congress, in order to obtain his legal services when he was a suspect in the attempted murder of Missouri’s Governor Boggs. Hyrum Smith made a contradictory promise to the Democrats with the understanding that they would not use the militia to come to arrest Joseph. Just days before the election Joseph encouraged his followers to vote Democratic since Hyrum had received a revelation to that affect. Mormons voted for the Democrats and the Whigs never forgot.110 Again, when Smith petitioned the major Presidential candidates in 1844, he seemed perfectly willing to swing the votes at his disposal to the party which would cooperate. He addressed each one cautiously and cordially at first, but when they proved uncooperative, and thus useless to him, he lashed out. Smith chided John C. Calhoun of “nullifying Carolina” for his states’ rights position and certainly insulted Calhoun by maintaining that President Jackson had a right to invade South Carolina over the nullification issue.111 Likewise, he lambasted Henry Clay for his part in the Missouri Compromise, which passed “for the benefit of slavery,” for his opposition to Texas’ annexation and for his shrinkage from principle when faced with South Carolina’s rebellion. Since Clay was willing to lower tariffs and abandon his banking system, things which Smith had always opposed, it seemed to Smith that the Kentuckian was “the Clay and the people the potter.”112 Smith’s partisan loyalty ended when a party or candidate could not serve his needs. In their political selfishness the Mormons were really no different than other voters, then or now. People vote for those whom they think will serve their interests or honor their convictions best. However, Mormons used politics to further their ends to a degree unknown to most voters. They voted and participated as they did in order to establish and further the Kingdom of God, which they believed would ultimately

112 overwhelm all governments, including that of the United States.113 In his diatribe against Henry Clay, Smith may have hinted at the coming of such a kingdom: I mourn for the depravity of the world; I despise the hypocrisy of Christendom; I hate the imbecility of American statesmen; I detest the shrinkage of candidates for office, from pledges and responsibility: I long for a day of righteousness, when He ‘whose right it is to reign, shall judge the poor, and reprove with equity for the meek of the earth,’ and I pray God, who hath given our fathers a promise of perfect government in the last days, to purify the hearts of the people, and hasten the welcome day.114

He did so repeatedly in his revelations declaring the “the day shall come when the nations of the earth shall tremble because of [God’s Kingdom].”115 The kings, presidents and governors of men were “as grass” and would soon “give heed to the glory of Zion,” Smith declared.116 Through Smith, God had instructed the Saints not to “break the laws of the land,” but to “be subject to the powers that be, until He reigns whose right it is to reign, and subdues all enemies under his feet.”117 Millenarian thinking clearly shaped Mormon political attitudes. As their 1834 name change implied, they focused on eschatology, the latter days. Parley Pratt and Sydney Rigdon debated and published their millennial views taking on the post- millennialists of their day. Smith too had revelations that “the time [was] at hand.” 118 Like the Millerties, Mormons believed they had to act quickly to prepare for Christ’s return. Although the Mormons did not attach a date to that expected event, and Smith came to believe that it would not be in his lifetime, they believed it would be soon. What separated the two sectarian groups was how they prepared for that event. Millerites increasingly distanced themselves from politics as the day approached because they considered politics a distraction from spiritual matters. The Mormons, who made no distinction between the secular and the spiritual, grew increasingly political in their efforts to establish God’s Kingdom. Millerites preferred a metaphorical wilderness where Christians were alienated from the world’s governments. The Mormons retreated to a literal wilderness because of their alienation and there became more political than ever. From Utah, their physical confrontations with “the world,” in the form of the US government, reached its peak in the Mountain Meadows Massacre and in the Mormon War of 1857. No other Jacksonian sect clashed so sharply with American institutions and culture. Yet, none had spoken so favorably or faithfully of the American government.

113 In order to establish God’s Kingdom on earth Mormons had to act in specific ways, both politically and economically. Just as they voted and petitioned to further their cause, they also bought property, established businesses, shared cooperatively, invested and managed a centrally planned economy with an eye toward the establishment of God’s Kingdom. While their overt economic acts may have seemed worldly to some, their motivations were based on sectarian principles. Like the Millerites, Christians and Disciples, they rejected “worldly” economics, but in a drastically different way. They did not abandon their work as Millerites did when they expected Christ’s return, nor did they stop at the Stoneite Christian denouncement of greed and luxury. Because the kingdom they hoped to build was physical as well as spiritual, they planned and worked to enrich that kingdom. They worked within America’s economic system, as they had worked within the political system, to further their cause. They did so, however, with mixed results. On one hand, cooperative planning and the Church’s hands on economic style helped the community become self sufficient, prosperous, tight knit and separate from the world. On the other hand, their corporate involvement in economic affairs necessitated confrontations with “the world” as neighbors resented their collective power and creditors demanded repayment. Economic matters were central to the complex sectarianism of the Latter Day Saints. Economics were important to Joseph Smith’s movement from the very beginning. Even before they adopted any cooperative financial system, money matters helped define the Saints. It is interesting that before Joseph Smith became a prophet he was a treasure hunter. He used seer stones not to decipher scripture, but to unearth wealth. Of greater importance, his followers were drawn to his movement partly for economic reasons, according to Gordon Pollock. After a thorough study of those converted to Smith’s movement, Pollock discovered that most of those converted by Smith’s message were detached from their families, rootless, and financially depressed. They could easily identify with the Christian theme of alienation. They became what the world called Mormons not because they saw in Smith’s movement a chance to get rich, but because of the sacrifices it required in this life and the promises it offered in the next. 119 Membership was not purely economically determined. Pollock suggests that many converts were attracted by the social benefits that membership offered, miraculous signs

114 they perceived and by Smith’s message which offered clear directions in a time of denominational confusion.120 In short, those who became Mormons, because of their social and religious conditions prior to conversion, were predisposed toward sectarianism and attracted by it. Throughout Mormon scripture wealth is described as a gift from God which has the potential to lead to ungodly qualities. In the Book of Mormon God often rewarded those obedient to him with riches. Church members, in fact, prospered more than those who rejected God.121 But the Book of Mormon also teaches that riches are a temptation, that vanity is sinful, that the poor are to be looked after, that wealth must be used for good and that one’s heart must not be set on riches.122 According to the Book of Mormon, God’s people in America originally shared all things in common until this noble cooperative scheme was disrupted by individuals’ pride derived from their increasing wealth.123 Several Mormon scriptures reflect this Biblical and sectarian theme. God will reward those who are faithful to him, the teaching goes, but when he does, one must take heed that they do not become ungrateful, prideful, extravagant, or insensitive to the poor. Mormon scriptures went beyond this Biblical refrain, however, by encouraging income equality. Several verses from Doctrine and Covenants express ideas similar to the following passage: “Nevertheless, in your temporal things you shall be equal, and this not grudgingly, otherwise the abundance of the manifestations of the Spirit shall be withheld.”124 Compelled by these scriptures, Mormons believed that all economic matters were in God’s hands and that he would judge his faithful remnant according to their attitudes and habits regarding money. Once the small but growing body moved to Kirtland, Ohio, their economic activities went against societal norms. It was not uncommon for people to resist the changes brought on by the “market revolution,” but it seemed un-American, or at least anti-Jacksonian, to organize a planned, cooperative economy. Part of what distinguished the Mormons’ community from other communal experiments like those established by Transcendentalists, was that theirs was not so much a rejection of capitalism as a way to make capitalism work for the church as a whole rather than for some individuals. As has already been mentioned, Smith altered Rigdon’s plan, which called for the sharing of all things in common, and replaced it with his United Order, under which properties were

115 deeded to the church by Mormons and each family decided for themselves what they needed to live on and what surplus they would return to the church’s treasury. Thus, capitalism was still encouraged under the direction of and for the benefit of the church. Their agricultural and industrial gathering was a microcosm of the nation’s economy. In Kirtland, the church owned a bank, farms, a brickyard, a tannery, a general store, a print shop, and a steam sawmill. In Nauvoo it controlled a pottery plant, a print shop, a mercantile establishment and a waterpower mill.125 Each of these was considered a critical component in the establishment of God’s Kingdom. And the church’s success in these enterprises bred resentment among their neighbors still playing by individualistic, Jacksonian economic rules. So, economic planning and cooperation helped the Mormons prosper and helped unite them as an alienated sect. The point in Mormon history where economic management led to less desirable results was obviously when the Kirtland Bank collapsed. That event caused divisions among the saints and demonstrated that they were not, indeed, separated from the world.126 A large number of important saints, including Oliver Cowdery, Martin Harris and David Whitmer, the original three witnesses, broke from the church at this time. Cowdery was never fully comfortable with the church’s authority over what others might consider non-spiritual matters. The failure of the Kirtland Bank and the community’s finances signaled to him and others that Smith was a fallen prophet. Smith’s demonstration of financial irresponsibility, his seemingly reckless land speculation, and inability, or unwillingness, to pay his debts also exposed his movement to criticism both then and now. In an effort to defend Smith, some Mormon historians suggest that the financial disaster at Kirtland was not due to Smith’s recklessness. They maintain that Ohio’s economy and that of Kirtland specifically provided reasons to be optimistic. Land values soared not because of over-speculation, but because of natural demand. 127 Furthermore, the revisionists argue, there were many unauthorized banks in Ohio which aided in the downfall.128 While some have branded Smith for his lack of foresight, these authors argue that he had enough assets in property to pay his debts, but had he sold them conditions would have worsened because of the depressed land values.129

116 Despite the merits of this economic defense of Smith, a crucial point must not be obscured in the debate over Smith’s economic integrity and that is that financial integrity was not Smith’s goal, the building of a kingdom was. Just as in politics, economics were a means to an end for Smith and the Mormons. If anything stood in the way of Mormons’ economic prosperity, and thus their ability to build God’s Kingdom, Smith was prepared to use other means, even violence, to achieve their goals. Nothing was to stand in the way of building Zion. If gentiles refused to sell their lands to the Mormons denying them their inheritance, the Mormons were to obtain it by “the shedding of blood.”130 Smith’s determination to see the gathering prosper helps observers understand why he did not stay in Kirtland to honor his obligation to his creditors. If he could have paid his debts it would have seriously weakened the Church’s financial base, and if he could not, his imprisonment would have been even more detrimental to the gathering. Neither option was feasible. Ignoring his debt obligations, however, posed no philosophical, or theological dilemma. Being millenarians, the Saints were certain that the world’s governments would soon come to an end. Along with them, the debts of the church would be abolished. Sydney Rigdon made it a matter of faith for Mormon creditors to await repayment patiently while all Saints devoted their energy toward extinguishing the church’s debts. Rigdon asked individuals to sacrifice economically for the cause of Zion.131 Gentile creditors, caring nothing for the creation of Smith’s Zion, were less patient and cooperative. Because their demands threatened the success of Smith’s movement, they were ignored. Like other sectarians of the Jacksonian period, the Mormons opposed most of the reform movements associated with the Second Great Awakening. For obvious reasons they rejected ecumenical Bible societies, tract societies and missionary societies preferring to send their own messengers armed with their own scriptures. They also echoed the familiar criticism against “priestcraft” just as others who opposed professional ministers’ attempts to Christianize American institutions. From the Mormon perspective, American institutions simply needed to be maintained, especially traditions like republicanism, religious freedom, and church-state separation. They needed no help from ministers still reeling from the disestablishment of state churches.

117 Yet, despite their rejection of most Second Great Awakening societies, the Mormons seemed to embrace other moral reforms. The Book of Mormon strongly discouraged drunkenness, a behavior frequently characteristic of the evil Lamanites.132 A direct revelation from God went much farther than the most strict temperance advocate saying that alcohol, tea, coffee and tobacco were all prohibited.133 Certain passages from the Book of Mormon also suggested that slavery had no place in America. Again the negative example of the Lamanites offered instruction. They often enslaved the righteous Nephites who fought against their oppressors.134 The record of the Jaredites similarly discouraged slavery saying “Whatsoever nation shall possess [this land] shall be free from bondage and from captivity, and from all other nations under heavern, if they will but serve the God of the land, who is Jesus Christ….”135 Mormon scriptures also demanded that the Sabbath be treated as a day of consecration to the Lord.136 Mormons learned from their scripture that widespread drunkenness was a sign of the last days.137 Taken at face value one may assume that the Mormons were brought closer to their evangelical neighbors by encouraging temperance, abolitionism and the Sabbath’s protection. However, a clearer understanding of the Mormons as a sect leads one to conclude that the Mormons were not supporters of the benevolent empire. If anything, they were attempting to establish a competing empire. Despite their strict rejection of alcohol consumption, they were not drawn into temperance circles. Temperance leaders, not being privy to God’s direct revelations, would have had no basis, according to the Mormons, for requiring abstinence from strong drink. They were not the recipients of God’s promise “that the destroying angel [would] pass by them, as the children of Israel, and not slay them.”138 Regarding abolitionism, Mormons were far too willing to appease the fears of their neighbors to have been real reformers. After being associated with abolitionism in Missouri, Mormons made it clear that they opposed the movement. Smith condemned the “hireling pseudo-priesthood” for pushing “abolition doctrines and doings and ‘human rights’ into Congress and into every place where conquests smells of fame…” while, at the same time, he believed that the slavery problem could be resolved whenever Southerners were “assured of an equivalent for their property.”139 He denounced abolitionists on biblical and societal grounds saying that southerners knew the evils of slavery better than northerners did and by pointing to biblical verses sanctioning

118 slavery. After making his view of abolitionism clear, he cautioned LDS elders not to preach to slaves before their masters were converted.140 In their collective treatise of Governments and Laws in General, Mormons had this to say in support of the status quo: We believe it just to preach the gospel to the nations of the earth, and warn the righteous to save themselves from the corruption of the world; but we do not believe it right to interfere with bond servants, neither preach the gospel to, nor baptize them, contrary to the will and wish of their masters, nor to meddle with or influence them in the least, to cause them to be dissatisfied with their situations in this life, thereby jeopardizing the lives of men; such interference we believe to be unlawful and unjust, and dangerous to the peace of every government allowing human beings to be held in servitude.141

As Mormons used political participation and economics pragmatically for the furtherance of God’s Kingdom, they did the same with their commitment to reforms. When their anti-slavery leanings threatened the progress of their movement, Mormons shied away from abolitionism. Mormons maintained their commitment, however, to protecting the Sabbath just as their scriptures instructed, but their motives for doing so were clearly sectarian in nature. In an article in the Evening and Morning Star Saints were told to protect the Sabbath for the following reason: We are the children of God, and let us not put off his law. When a saint works on the Sabbath, the world can reply: So do we. When the saints travel to do business on the Sabbath, the world can reply: So do we. When the saints go from one meeting to another to see and be seen, the world can reply: So do we. When the children of the saints play on the Sabbath, the world can reply: So do ours. Brethren, watch, that you may enter into the Lord’s sacred rest.142

Mormons advocated Sabbath observance as a way to set them apart from the world, not as a means to transform it. Unlike some New England ministers who promoted Sabbatarianism as a way of bringing back the recently disestablished church, Mormons were not seeking to re-establish the covenant between God and America, at least not the same covenant that Puritans believed existed. Mormons saw themselves as the re- establishment of something much older than Winthrop’s “city upon a hill.” They saw themselves as God’s one true church destined to conquer the world’s governments and govern future worlds. Until that day came, and they believed it was not far off, they knew they would be a distinct people.

119 In the Jacksonian period religious distinction was not unique. Sectarianism flourished as several religious movements sought to re-capture the otherworldly spirit of the early church. Although they did not separate secular from spiritual pursuits, Mormons rejected the idea that political participation and moral reform were means by which America should be Christianized. Instead, they focused on their own efforts to establish God’s Kingdom on earth through the efforts of the church, the only body capable and divinely authorized to transform the world’s governments and institutions. In doing so they became part of a trend much wider than the confines of their own religious movement. The tendency for religious groups to neglect or dismiss secular affairs and to focus instead on otherworldly issues was manifested in several groups touched by the revivals of the Second Great Awakening. The otherworldly impulse extended beyond the bounds of the awakening too; that is, it prevailed even among groups who were unsupportive of the Second Great Awakening, as Mormons help demonstrate. Subsequent chapters dealing with the Hicksite Quakers and Transcendentalists, other groups who rejected the awakening but embraced an otherworldly focus, make this important point about the awakening even more clearly.

120 CHAPTER FIVE: THE HICKSITES

It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery. Mark my words! I, Paul, tell you that if you let yourselves be circumcised, Christ will be of no value to you at all….You who are trying to be justified by law have been alienated from Christ; you have fallen away from grace. But by faith we eagerly await through the Spirit the righteousness for which we hope. For in Christ Jesus neither circumcision nor uncircumcision has any value. The only thing that counts is faith expressing itself through love. Galatians 5:1-6

So I say live by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the sinful nature. For the sinful nature desires what is contrary to the Spirit and the Spirit what is contrary to the sinful nature. They are in conflict with one another so that you do not do what you want. But if you are led by the Spirit, you are not under law. Galatians 5:16-18

A man is not a Jew if he is only one outwardly, nor is circumcision merely outward and physical. No, a man is a Jew if he is one inwardly; and circumcision is circumcision of the heart, by the Spirit, not by the written code…. Romans 2:28, 29

When one thinks of nineteenth century Quakers the reform movements of that era, especially abolitionism, are likely to come to mind. General treatments of American history have perpetuated that mental association often giving the impression that Quakers were always and primarily social reformers. Although recent scholars have demonstrated that the reform tradition among Quakers was neither original nor universal, the generalization remains common.1 Similarly, the Second Great Awakening suffers from overgeneralization when it is still presented simply as a religious movement whose purpose was to reshape American political and social life in the image of evangelical Christians with no mention of its otherworldly aspects. Remarkably, few scholars have discussed Quakers and the Second Great Awakening together though they are both typically associated with reform. Bringing the two together, as this chapter attempts to do, may help clarify both of these generalizations. Before bringing Quaker and awakening scholarship together, it is important to understand why they have been treated separately in the past. This separation is due in part to the very different ways in which their reform activities have been interpreted. Quakers have generally been praised as forerunners of liberal causes for their selfless devotion to humanitarianism. Reformers of the Second Great Awakening have just as often been criticized for their self serving efforts to legislate morality and to Christianize American institutions. Quakers were once criticized for their retreat from secular

121 politics, but more recently they have been applauded for taking a principled stand refusing to compromise their beliefs.2 Rigidity on the part of awakeners seldom receives similar praise. More importantly, Quakers have been omitted from Second Great Awakening scholarship because there is no direct connection between the two; they were neither revival promoters nor participants. Their absence from revivals, however, did not shield Quakers from the effects of the awakening; in fact, they were profoundly affected by it. Quakers inherited a carefully balanced theology which left several fundamental issues in precarious position. Opinions on the Bible’s inspiration, Christ’s divinity, the atonement, the trinity and several other issues were varied. Yet, their commitment to religious tolerance and individualism in matters of belief held the society together. That is, until they were touched by the Second Great Awakening. Evangelicals’ insistence on the divinity of Christ, the necessity of atonement, and the Bible as the foundation of belief forced Quakers to clarify their opinions on such matters. As it intensified internal differences among Quakers, the awakening caused two splits within the Society of Friends, the Hicksite separation of 1827-8 and the Wilburite-Gurneyite split of 1845. Neither of these divisions has received much scholarly attention by those outside of the Society of Friends, and so the scholarly disconnection between Quakers and the Second Great Awakening continues.3 It is important to note, still, that the awakening could not have caused such disruption had it been completely foreign to Quakers. Its impact was felt precisely because its goals and ideas were similar to those of the Quakers. The primary reason for discussing Quakers in the context of the Second Great Awakening is to get a more complete picture of sectarianism in the early nineteenth century. Particularly, the Hicksite Quakers are worth noting because their rejection of the awakening led them to sectarian views similar to those discussed in previous chapters. Hicksites were generally advocates of reform, but opponents of the evangelical moral and religious reform societies. Because they saw the Bible as secondary when compared to the light of God within each person, they were especially critical of Bible and tract societies. Like Alexander Campbell’s Christians, Hicksites believed these groups were worshipping mammon rather than God. Because they favored inward spirituality to outward religiosity, they also rejected evangelical efforts to protect the Sabbath. Their

122 exertions on behalf of the peace movement and abolitionism, reforms they supported, were meant to purify their own religious society, not to Christianize America. Hicksites actually had little to say, positively or negatively, about American politics except to reinforce the principle of church-state separation. Their silence on many political issues and on partisanship suggests that their focus was elsewhere. Their commitment to some reform may have associated them with the Whigs, but their economic views were more aligned with Democrats. Hicksites were comprised mainly of small farmers many of who rejected personal extravagance as well as internal improvement projects. Their disinterest in politics, distaste for the market revolution, and distrust of evangelical reformers made them very similar to the other Jacksonian sects. Yet, the Hicksites are unique among the other Jacksonian sects that have been discussed. Only they emerged from outside of the evangelical tradition. Although they circulated their religious beliefs, their efforts were concentrated within the Society of Friends; they did little to spread their message from outside Quaker circles. Like the other sectarians their roots can be traced to the Protestant Reformation, but their movement represents perhaps the most radical and liberal expression of the Reformation. Long before the Hicksite separation, Quakers prided themselves on being a peculiar people distinguishing themselves from the rest of Protestant society in a number of ways. Thus, they had a much longer tradition of rejecting worldliness than the other sectarians previously discussed. Most significant was the Hicksite view of the Bible. The other sectarian groups based their religious movements on either a new interpretation of scriptures or new found scriptures. The Hicksites, however, broke from Orthodox Quakers largely because they believed the latter to be placing undue emphasis on the Bible. Their rejection of the world was coupled with a rejection of the Bible as the primary source of God’s will. Finally, their sectarian characteristics resulted from their rejection of the awakening while other sects of the same period supported it. On the surface, the Hicksite rejection of the Second Great Awakening and their embracing of sectarianism may appear to support the idea that the awakening was merely an attempt by evangelical ministers to assert their influence through politics and religious reforms. Hicksites certainly saw the awakening in this way. But their view, and that of some past scholars, was incomplete because they looked primarily at Calvinistic religious

123 groups who were associated historically with the religious establishment in America. Neither they nor many scholars examined the periphery closely enough. Had they done so, they may have noticed the same sectarian qualities they advocated among other groups who participated in revivals. Doctrinal and theological barriers would still have prevented unions among these sectarians, but in their views on politics, economics and reform they may have discovered a surprising kinship. The purpose of this chapter is to investigate that sectarian kinship that existed between Hicksite Quakers and other Jacksonian sects. It does so by examining the life and teachings of Elias Hicks and some of his followers and by comparing their political, economic and reformist attitudes to other sectarians. It asserts two conclusions from this investigation. The first and easiest to demonstrate is simply that the Hicksites were sectarians who, like those discussed previously, rejected what they considered worldly pursuits—politics, moral reform, and market capitalism. By itself, this assertion is neither original nor particularly important. What gives it significance is what this suggests about the spirit of the times. Namely, that an otherworldly spirit was prevalent among many groups touched by the Second Great Awakening, both by those who accepted it and those who rejected it. Quakers are a prime example that reformism was not confined to the awakening for they sought moral reforms without any direct connection to the awakening. Similarly, otherworldliness was associated with, but not exclusively contained within, the awakening. The Hicksites demonstrate that sectarianism flourished in the midst of the Second Great Awakening.

Before examining the character and movement of Elias Hicks it is first necessary to summarize the Quaker movement from its origins in England to its transformation and division in the nineteenth century; for it is within the specific context of Quaker history, not the history of American Protestantism generally, that Elias Hicks’ movement must be rooted. Outside of that context, Hicksites’ alienation, their hostility to the world, their inward struggle for holiness, and their sectarian nature cannot properly be understood. Like Alexander Campbell and Joseph Smith, Elias Hicks saw his movement as a restoration movement. His goal was not the restoration of church authority or scriptural adherence, it was a call back to the pure spiritual Christianity of George Fox, the founder

124 of the Society of Friends popularly called Quakers. Thus, it is important to at least introduce that which Hicks hoped to restore. George Fox was an English religious seeker whose heart was both moved and troubled by the growth of Puritanism in the early 1640s. This religious awakening, according to Hugh Barbour, was “not unlike the Great Awakening under Jonathan Edwards, or the Kentucky camp meetings of the American Second Great Awakening.”4 In 1643, when he was only nineteen, Fox left home “at the command of God” and sojourned among Anglican priests, religious independents and anyone who appeared to have answers to his spiritual questions. The priests proved to be “miserable comforters,” men so entrenched in worldliness that they did not recognize the pagan origins of Christmas, and they thought nothing of referencing pagan gods when naming the days of the week.5 These so called “religious professors” further repulsed Fox by worshiping God in temples and demanding a degree from Oxford or Cambridge from all ministers. So, Fox was naturally drawn to a host of religious dissenters. These too failed to speak to Fox’s state, however. Fox’s spiritual quest remained unfulfilled until he looked inward and discovered the union and fellowship with God which Fox believed was available to all mankind. Thus, Fox began his ministry in 1647 preaching the importance of the “inner light.”6 Fox’s doctrine of the inner light distinguished Friends from other Christians and provided the basis for Quaker worship and daily life. Fox taught that the inner light was the Spirit of Christ, a seed that dwelled within every individual waiting to be cultivated. That light, spirit, or seed, when cultivated, was to guide every thought, word and deed. As Friends tried to align their lives with Christ’s Spirit within, inner turmoil was the initial result because their lives, no matter how pious, paled in comparison to the purity of the inner light. However, as one struggled inwardly to suppress the selfish inner man a sense of peace followed.7 Friends were convinced that if they paid attention to the leadings of the spirit they would be carrying out the very will of God. To assure that Friends were led by the inner light and not their own worldly desires, their leadings had to be selfless, consistent and accompanied by a life that was morally pure.8 Because selflessness was a sign of being spirit led, words or deeds that led to persecution rather than accolades were less suspect. Friends considered struggle with the outer world

125 nothing compared to the inner struggle each soul faced when cultivating Christ’s seed.9 Thus, to a certain extent, the doctrine of the inner light encouraged alienation from the world. It also inspired a unique style of worship. Friends met for worship with no planned agenda, no prepared sermon. They simply waited on God. Some were moved physically in their meditation, which explains why detractors called them “Quakers.” Others felt compelled to speak. First time speakers often questioned whether their words came from Christ’s Spirit or their own vanity, but when selfishness was ruled out, Friends spoke with the assurance that their words were God’s.10 Thus, the inner light doctrine distinguished and emboldened Friends, and because Fox taught that everyone had that seed within, his teachings had enormous potential for unifying Christians. Fox hoped that this “inner light” would unite Christians and restore the true spiritual nature of the church. Instead, his teachings brought division, persecution and alienation. Fox was imprisoned on eight separate occasions for civil and religious disturbances.11 On the first of these occasions Fox offended his audience with his message and his methods, the two things for which Quakers would be persecuted in their early history. While a minister urged his flock to judge all things by the scriptures, Fox interrupted and cried out in the “steeple house” that all things were to be tested by the spirit. After making the same suggestion at another church the congregation beat him with their Bibles and with less holy weapons.12 Those who followed Fox in England and America suffered in kind, often in more dramatic ways.13 When Ann Austin and Mary Fisher entered Massachusetts with Quaker literature they were strip searched, imprisoned, and finally deported. Puritan authorities also whipped several other missionaries severely and notoriously killed the persistent Friends William Robinson, William Leddra, Marmaduke Stevenson and Mary Dyer.14 Although Quakers petitioned the crown concerning their persecution in New England, they actually welcomed such persecution as a sign of their holiness.15 For those brave enough to join the Society of Friends in this early stage were engaged in “The Lamb’s War,” an inward struggle against the ways of the world that was meant to bring the outer world under the authority of God’s spirit. This apocalyptic mission enabled the Society of Friends to embrace their persecution and their countercultural alienation.16

126 Besieged as they were by the world, Quakers found solace in meeting together. On a weekly basis, Friends gathered in quiet meditation, trying to silence their thoughts as well as their mouths, and waited. When one felt sure that the Spirit, and not their own vanity, compelled them to speak, they did so convinced that they spoke the very words of God. Witnessing the sincerity and power of “quietism” in worship was most often that which converted new members; experience, rather than theology, attracted outsiders. 17 The importance of corporate meetings may sound odd given Fox’s emphasis on the spirit found within each individual and his de-emphasis on outward forms of religion. One might wonder why a man who found “Christ within” and who considered all acts and thoughts worship still insisted on gatherings. Clearly, Fox had not initiated a wholly individualized Christianity. Individual Christians had access to God’s spirit within, but the “New Jerusalem” could be realized only when those illuminated Christians came together.18 Individuals connected with the spirit of God, but a body of true Christians constituted the church, and that church was the Quakers’ refuge. Other meetings for business, planning and discipline were also important for comforting and distinguishing the Society of Friends. Quaker historian Rufus Jones, in fact, argued that the implementation of organized meetings was Fox’s most original contribution to Christian history, more so even than his theological speculation.19 Just a few years after Fox initiated his missionary movement, he started to organize the Quaker church through a series of meetings. Local monthly meetings sent representatives to regional quarterly meetings who in turn sent representatives to the yearly meeting in London. Although there would eventually be several Yearlies located in America, these general meetings were initially sporadic gatherings that allowed Friends to share their sufferings and advice, and to serve one another’s needs. Local meetings for discipline were more regular, and perhaps more necessary, since disorder was always a danger for Quakers as they were united, not by creeds or written codes, but by God’s spirit within.20 These Monthlies maintained order among Quakers just as the civil government did for Anglicans and Puritans. Still, because Quakers did not rely on civil authorities and because they maintained that their membership was purely voluntary, Quaker discipline was distinctly sectarian. Friends resolved their differences within rather than taking their disputes to worldly civil authorities. In fact, as William Frost points out, Friends

127 typically restored backsliding members with the admonition of influential members before discipline was required by the monthly meeting.21 As the Society of Friends grew, Fox’s plan for organized monthly, quarterly and yearly meetings matured. These meetings not only comforted the persecuted Quakers, they fostered unity, developed leaders, and demonstrated sectarian defiance in a hostile environment.22 Quaker meetings offered them sanctuary from the world; so too did the prospect of a Quaker colony in America where the restored church could flourish unmolested. When Fox visited the New World from 1671-1673 to encourage Quakers in the colonies, he already envisioned the creation of a Quaker colony granted and ruled by God’s providence. In route to America, Fox experienced the hand of providence when his ship narrowly escaped the pursuit of a pirate ship. Not wanting to experience shipwreck as the Apostle Paul had, his fellow travelers followed Fox’s instructions exactly. Fox’s comparison to Paul in his Journal illustrates his restorationist motive; he sought parallels between himself and primitive Christians. Between himself and Paul, they were easy to find. Both men had experienced repeated persecution for their missionary efforts. Both argued against the prevailing religious environment in which they lived. And both journeyed, near the end of their lives, to locations of extreme importance for the success of their ministry. For Paul, it was Rome, the very center of the ancient world. For George Fox, it was America, the future home of a Quaker utopia. Like Paul, Fox reached his destination, not in chains, but in pursuance of religious freedom.23 The fulfillment of Fox’s dream would be realized, of course, by the most famous and prominent convert to the Society of Friends, William Penn. After Penn helped settle an argument in 1676 between two Quakers with competing claims to West Jersey, Quaker colonial plans began to materialize. Out of court settlements like this one would seem unnecessary if the Quakers had their own colony and their own local government. According to Isaac Sharpless, government itself would have been unnecessary in a colony comprised of only Friends.24 However, when Charles II extinguished his debt to William Penn by granting him the charter to a much larger colony, Penn dreamed of a religious utopian community unlike any that had been established. His colony would have a government, but it would also be a “holy experiment” embodying all Quaker principles, even the principles of religious and political liberty. Penn’s government was

128 not simply tolerant it faithfully avoided any interference with an individual’s conscience and made no provisions for military service.25 It also pursued justice to natives as no colonial government had. Penn believed his land title was insufficient despite the king’s charter, and so he sought to purchase lands from the original inhabitants. Just as Quakers saw Christ as the anti-type of the Jewish law, their government was an anti-type to traditional colonial governments.26 The difficulty in maintaining the Quaker character of Pennsylvania without government coercion made his utopian vision even bolder than John Winthrop’s in Massachusetts. Less than a decade after initiating the “holy experiment,” political and theological controversies undermined the utopian vision and divided the Society of Friends. Pennsylvania faced numerous political problems in its early years including disputes between Penn and his renters, Quakers and non-Quakers, and lower county residents and their northern neighbors.27 These were miniscule, however, to the religious controversy brought on by George Keith. This former Presbyterian embraced Fox’s teachings early on and became a staunch defender of the Society of Friends. His reputation among Friends rivaled those of William Penn and Robert Barclay, the primary articulator of Quaker theology. When Keith settled in Philadelphia in 1689 he became concerned with the ill effects the colonial utopia was having on Friends. He believed the Society was already falling short of the commitment and discipline of first generation Friends. Now that removal to America and a religious Act of Tolerance freed them of persecution, Keith believed Friends were becoming settled and perverting true Quaker theology. Specifically, he complained that Quakers had so emphasized the sufficiency of Christ within that they had neglected to acknowledge the Christ of history described in scripture. Before the movement was a half century old, Keith advocated further restoration. However, he did not call for a return to Fox’s principles, but for the implementation of elders and deacons at all meetings and for a confession of faith that would raise the importance of scriptures in relation to the inner light. When his proposal was rejected he intensified his criticism of Quaker ministers and suggested that the Society’s involvement in civil government undermined their commitment to peace since no government could govern without force. Keith was disowned by the Philadelphia Yearly Meeting in 1692 and three years later, after his appeal, by the London Yearly Meeting. Many Quakers

129 stood by him and established a series of separate Christian Quaker meetings. Although their importance dwindled when Keith joined the Anglicans in 1700, the affects of this first major separation would linger.28 In many ways, the Keithian foreshadowed all the major Quaker controversies that would arise in the following century and a half, including the Hicksite separation. It brought to the fore theological, political and social controversies that still lingered when Elias Hicks’ views were questioned. When Keith urged Friends not to neglect the scriptures in their emphasis on the inner light, he upset a precariously balanced theology that teetered between history and experience. That controversy was not fully resolved in Hicks’ time, for when he preached the inner light, he was charged with denying the historical Christ. By pointing out the limitations Friends would have in governing a colony based on their religious principles, Keith identified another ongoing question with which Friends would continuously grapple, the proper role of Friends in the temporal government. Finally, since Keith was among the first Friends to condemn slavery, he is at least partially responsible for the long standing debate among Friends about involvement in social reforms. Keith and Hicks, Friends separated by more than a century, were in agreement on social and political issues, but on opposite sides theologically. That fact that both of them were criticized for their theological views by the Friends’ majority in their time illustrates that the Quaker movement had undergone some major transformations in the interim. The first of these was a spiritual and political transformation that disrupted the more tranquil times following the Keithian controversy. In the mid 18th century, after decades of prosperity, political dominance, and disciplinary laxity, a number of reformers successfully returned the settled Quaker church to its sectarian roots. Foremost among reformers was John Woolman, a man known especially for his opposition to wealth and slavery for their detrimental effects on Christianity. His admonition against luxury, his writings on slavery, and his refusal to purchasing anything made from slave labor helped convince the 1758 Yearly to discipline members who bought or sold slaves.29 Quakers rejected earlier abolitionists, like Benjamin Lay, for their extremist views.30 But by the 1750s, reformers were being heard and the Quaker tradition of social reform was renewed.31 Reformers held a number of leadership positions within Friends’ meetings.

130 From these positions they increased the frequency and severity of disciplinary action often dismissing members for drunkedness, inattendence, or marrying outside of the Society of Friends. Reformist actions were intended to purify Friends internally, protecting them from the world just as Nehemiah’s wall protected the Israelites.32 Even their efforts to end slavery, according to Jean Soderlund, was primarily an attempt to rid their own religious society of the evil, not an attempt to change the world.33 In fact, their concerns were very otherworldly. John Woolman’s “A Plea for the Poor” and Anthony Benezet’s “The Mighty Destroyer Displayed” (1794) discussed the various sins caused by the desire for earthly wealth, something for which Pennsylvania Quakers were known. This sectarian transformation among Friends coincided with related political changes that led to the withdrawal of Friends from leadership positions in Pennsylvania’s government. George Keith earlier pointed out the difficulty Friends would have administering a government while adhering to their pacifist principles. This warning seemed especially prophetic when the British colonies clashed with other European powers. The final, decisive clash, the French and Indian War, marked a turning point in Quaker history. Unwilling to raise money or arms in the colony’s defense and unable to convince the non-Quaker majority to agree Friends surrendered their political leadership of Pennsylvania. Although not all left their posts willingly, Friends generally withdrew from worldly politics, focused more on internal renewal, and finally acted like the minority they were in the mid 18th century.34 Thus after the first one hundred years, Quaker history had, in some respects, brought Friends’ religious development full circle. They would never again experience the persecution of the first generation Friends, or recapture their zeal, but Quakers had remarkably returned to their sectarian roots after enjoying a privileged, even if not established, church position in Pennsylvania. They had reversed Troeltsch’s church-state cycle and recommitted to distinctive, purified and alien roots.35

Elias Hicks (1748-1830) was born into this sectarian atmosphere and he remained true to it throughout his life. Even his childhood was a pilgrimage toward purity and away from the world’s allurements. Elias first lived in the town of Hempstead on Long Island. His parents had just recently joined the Society of Friends, but being far from the

131 nearest meeting, Elias was surrounded by playmates of other religious groups, or members of no fellowship whatsoever. This “exposed [him] to much temptation,” according to his mature recollection.36 Occasionally, the allure of the world’s pleasures drowned out his own inner voice and he spent much time hunting and fishing for sport when, at age eight, his family moved to the coast. Although Hicks “did not give way to anything which was commonly accounted as disreputable,” his being “hardened in vanity” troubled his young mind.37 His mother’s death when he was eleven and his removal to live with an older brother at age thirteen presented him with less structure and more temptation. Throughout his teen years, Elias played cards, raced horses and attended dances with a guilty conscience. Being apprenticed to a Quaker carpenter was no help since Hicks regarded the man to be “in an eager pursuit after temporal riches.” Only Hicks’ inner light brought him peace when he determined to give up vanity and “wholly withdraw from the company of those inclined to such pursuits.”38 His increased devotion to meetings and his renewed resolve against sin led him to condemn the practice of bundling common among young unmarried couples of his time and sanctioned by most parents. Quaker distinctiveness had not just occurred to Hicks in adulthood. As a child he noticed the difference between town hall meetings, where all decisions were made by popular vote, and Quaker meetings, where quietism prevailed.39 But with a greater appreciation for Quaker distinctiveness, Hicks was now ready for leadership. His rise within the Society of Friends roughly coincided with the Revolutionary War, a time in which Friends’ separateness would be challenged, but ultimately upheld. Hicks spent those days encouraging Friends not to conform to the world around them. His first official assignment from his monthly meeting was to join a committee sanctioning the marriage of a young Quaker couple. When he was convinced that the plain ceremony would be void of “immodest feasting or drinking,” things typically associated with other weddings, he approved the union.40 More significantly, as Hicks became recognized as a gifted speaker at Friends’ meetings, he was appointed to speak to slave owning Quakers to awaken their consciences.41 In the tradition of John Woolman, Hicks urged Friends to reject the institution that much of the Christian world had accepted. War too attracted Hicks’ attention and condemnation. Long Island Quakers were not as tempted to take up arms as some in other parts since they were generally left

132 alone, unmolested as they traveled after the British occupation. Others, however, were more acutely affected by the war. As Hicks visited these Friends, he exemplified Quaker distinctiveness most clearly as he later recalled. I had to caution Friends against mixing with the people in their human policies and outward forms of government; showing that, in all ages, those, who were called to be the Lord’s people, had been ruined, or suffered great loss, by such associations; and manifesting clearly by scripture testimony, and other records, that our strength and preservation consisted in standing alone, and not to be counted among the people or nations; who were setting up party, and partial interests, one against the another; which is the ground of war and bloodshed…..Those, therefore, who are in the true Christian spirit, cannot use any coercive force or compulsion by any means whatever; not being overcome with evil, but overcoming evil with good.42

The fact that several of Hicks’ own brothers took up arms against the British profoundly disappointed him, yet he continued to ignore the loud patriotic cry listening instead to the voice within. If public affairs did not turn Hicks’ mind toward worldly concerns, personal affairs may have been more distracting. On the eve of the Revolution, Elias Hicks was developing roots. In 1771 he married Jemima Seaman and started a family. As he busied himself farming, raising a family and caring for a family replete with physical infirmities, it seems natural that he might have been preoccupied with temporal concerns. However, in the recollections of his journal, he seemed ever focused on spiritual matters, even when discussing the deaths of two daughters and four sons, none of whom lived through their teen years. What mattered most to him was that his children had been dutiful and each was “admitted into the realms of peace and joy.” He considered himself fortunate compared to others whose children were healthy, but ungodly. Looking back he saw their physical weakness as a divine blessing. Had his sons been able bodied, they might have fallen to the “temptations of the world.”43 To a certain degree, Hicks had to give attention to “worldly matters” in order to maintain his farm, but his recognition that such things were a distraction illustrates his unrelenting focus on spiritual matters as the following journal entry suggests: Second day. I spent in my temporal concerns. What a strict and continual guard and watch it requires, when engaged in any worldly business, to keep the mind free and loose from every thing of a terrestrial nature; so that, at the first beck or

133 motion of the divine intelligence, we may be ready to obey, and submit willingly to its holy requiring, without consulting with flesh and blood.44

Perhaps Hicks was able to take such a view of things because he was away from home so often. Most of his time was spent traveling between local meetings and carrying out the work of an itinerant minister. As a representative of the Jericho monthly meeting or the New York yearly, Hicks traveled for weeks or months sometimes covering as many as two thousand miles. As he traveled, Hicks cultivated “the hedge which separated Friends from non-Friends” by urging Friends to give up their slaves, encouraging the building of separate Quaker schools, establishing stronger moral discipline within the society, and insisting on a unified fellowship.45 As the Society of Friends recovered from the disruption of the Revolutionary War, Hicks was a leading advocate of traditional Quaker separateness. He and others were concerned that too many Quakers were being carried away by popular political and commercial concerns. Much like Thomas Jefferson, Hicks hated to see his brothers casually take on debt. His concern, however, was not for the future of the nation, but for the reputation of the Society of Friends. To a remarkable degree, Hicks and other traditional Quakers remained aloof from politics in a generation in which civic affairs took center stage. Some monthly meetings forbade their members from holding public office. Individuals, like John Comly, refused to vote.46 Although Hicks did hold a minor local position, the silence of his journal and letters on political matters suggests that his attention was elsewhere.47 In the tradition of George Fox, Elias Hicks confronted the clergy, practices and beliefs of other Christian denominations. These interchanges with the religious world around him were most indicative of his sectarianism. He consistently railed against “hireling ministers” rejecting their supposed scriptural authority for being paid for their preaching. Such payments, Hicks argued, were sanctioned under the old Mosaic Law, which was merely the shadow of the coming covenant of Christ, and then only to Levites, who were supported by the house of Israel because they could own no land.48 Hicks also opposed those “much blinded by the prejudice of education;” he was convinced that knowledge of the inner light was all the education required of God’s spokesmen.49 Although he was in harmony with Baptists on these issues, he argued against their

134 practice of water baptism and especially against Calvinist theology. Hicks opposed water baptism for the same reason that he opposed other outward, physical religious observances; to him, they were mere shadows of the new spiritual covenant established by Christ and of no more value than Jewish feasts or circumcision. To bolster his argument against water baptism, Hicks sought scriptural backing in the writings of the apostle Paul. Although his use of scripture to establish baptism as a non-essential was fundamentally flawed, Hicks’ did not rely solely on the Bible to combat outward religion; his inner light was more reliable, but harder to convey to evangelicals.50 By rejecting worldliness, promoting internal purity and encouraging strict Quaker discipline, Elias Hicks was established as a defender of Quaker distinctiveness. The years and miles he had given in service to the society, preaching and encouraging Friends, proved that he was among the most dedicated Quakers too. Given these ingredients, Hicks seemed likely to be the greatest leader of the Society of Friends in the early nineteenth century. However, another transformation was taking place among Quakers. Unlike the one into which Hicks was born in 1748, this transformation drew Quakers closer to the religious world around them. The idea that distinctiveness was a virtue began to wane, as did Hicks’ appeal to the majority of Friends. Although he remained true to traditional Quaker ideas, he was at odds with those calling themselves Orthodox Quakers. What caused this great transformation in the early nineteenth century? While a number of social, economic and theological factors may have been involved, the transformation can most generally be attributed to the Second Great Awakening which indirectly brought Orthodox Quakers and evangelicals closer together.51 Friends were hardly drawn in by revivals, anxious benches and the prospect of immediate conversion; such aspects of the awakening collided sharply with quietism and the search for the inner light. However, other characteristics of the awakening naturally attracted Quakers. The plain style of revival preachers was more akin to Quaker spokesmen than the polished, university trained ministers that dominated the eighteenth century. Evangelical preaching style also came to resemble Quakerism as extemporaneous speaking became more widespread. Just as in Quaker meetings, evangelical ministers relied more heavily on God’s spirit to give them the right words. Even if preachers memorized carefully worded

135 parts of their sermons for maximum emotional affect, a planned step away from the podium appeared to be a step toward Quaker spiritualism. The resounding revival message that anyone could be saved also removed the great Calvinistic barrier separating Quakers and evangelicals. Probably more than evangelical style or theology, Quakers were influenced by the reform impulse of the Second Great Awakening. For several decades Friends had battled slavery and alcohol abuse within their society. Now that many evangelicals were making those causes wider crusades, Quakers found themselves fighting along side those with whom they refused to intermarry. What was even more remarkable was that many Quakers started to join Evangelicals in their campaigns to protect the Sabbath and distribute Bibles. To this, Elias Hicks was absolutely opposed. Protecting the Sabbath by law seemed strange indeed to a traditional Friend like Hicks who understood that the Quakers had never sought government assistance in the maintenance of their religious practices, not even when they controlled Pennsylvania. Furthermore, Hicks did not wish to see the Sabbath observed at all. He often worked before and after meetings for worship if there was still work to do. As an outward religious observance, the Sabbath was of no value to Hicks. In a letter to William Poole, Hicks expressed this idea most clearly when he denounced the “superstitious observances of the fist day of the week…with its demoralizing tendency on the morals and manners of a great portion of the inhabitant of (the) country.” Continuing, he remarked, “If we should now take up the Jewish rite of circumcision, it would not be so inconsistent and hurtful, as the superstitious observances of the first day as now established by the laws of our country.”52 Hicks also believed Bible societies, like Sabbath laws, fostered “priestcraft.” Leaders of such organizations were governed by selfishness, according to Hicks.53 Even if their motives were pure, Hicks was certain that the distribution of the scriptures would do “four times more harm than good” since their misinterpretation was the source of all church divisions. According to Hicks, “no event transpired since the building of the Tower of Babel…that is so fully representative thereof, as the multiplied Bible societies on the present day.”54 Despite his opposition, a group of Philadelphia Friends established Bible and Tract societies not officially run by the Yearly meeting, but sanctioned by the dominant orthodox members.55 Hicks’ unbending opposition to the benevolent empire set him

136 and his supporters on a collision course with Friends who were becoming more evangelical. Before any conflict was made public between the two parties developing within the Society of Friends, there were signs of the coming division at about the turn of the century. Hannah Barnard, a New York Friend, was disowned by the London Yearly Meeting because she disbelieved parts of the Bible. Specifically, she did not think God had ordered the Israelites to war and the truth of the miraculous conception had not been revealed to her.56 By 1806, both the Philadelphia and Baltimore Yearly Meetings added to their books of discipline that denial of Christ’s divinity or the authenticity of scriptures were dismissible offenses.57 Beliefs that had previously been left to individual discretion and interpretation were mandated. Hicks naturally disagreed with the decision, but as a respected member of the New York Yearly, he was not directly affected. The incongruence between his views and those of orthodox Friends became clearer after he traveled and labored with Stephen Grellet, a French émigré who emphasized evangelical doctrines in his ministry. While he spoke of the divine inspiration of scriptures, the trinity, human depravity, the incarnation, and atonement, Hicks spoke a more traditional Quaker message including an emphasis on Christ’s transforming work within. Grellet was troubled that Hicks spoke of inward transformation to the exclusion of the necessary outward acts of Christ, namely his divine birth and atoning death. Privately, Grellet expressed concern over the “impending calamity” that was sure to befall the Society as a result of Hicks’ views.58 Such concerns were made public in subsequent years. First, Phebe Willis, an elder at Hick’s own Jericho meeting, was concerned about Hicks’ views on the Bible, and asked him to clarify them. When Hicks’ replied using some of his boldest statements against abuses of the Bible and the problems that its misinterpretation has caused, Willis, without permission, published the letter.59 As Orthodox Friends scrutinized Hicks’ views, they began to have doubts about his doctrinal soundness. Public opposition toward Hicks was first manifested in the 1819 Pine Street Monthly in Philadelphia, where Hicks was a guest. Hicks spoke passionately against any symbolic endorsement of slavery and urged the young to surpass their predecessors in reform. Some Friends were offended that Hicks referred those who used the products of slave labor as murderers and

137 thieves. While the men continued to conduct business, Hicks requested permission to address the women. An orthodox Friend, Jonathan Evans, tried unsuccessfully to convince the assembly to deny Hicks’ request. He was, however, successful in adjourning the meeting while Hicks was absent. Hicks’ return to an empty room was a clear sign of disrespect. “These were,” as Bliss Forbush declared, “the first rumblings of [an] impending storm.”60 A clearer sign of brewing trouble came in 1822 when a group of Philadelphia elders attempted to arrange a direct interview with Hicks. Repeated charges of Hicks’ theological heresy compelled ten elders of various Philadelphia meetings to confront him. However, Hicks was not inclined to meet with them. They had no real authority over his theological opinions. Liberty of conscience was deeply rooted in Quakerism. If any organization had the authority to question Hicks it would be his own monthly meeting. Furthermore, Hicks and his supporters noted that the individuals who first had concerns about his teachings should have should have confronted him directly, or taken their charges to the Jericho Monthly. For those offended to have confronted Hicks directly in love would have conformed to biblical principles, yet the orthodox defenders of scripture had not followed that course.61 Hicks cooperated, finally, after some supporters suggested that he do so. But, he took several witnesses with him to what the elders had anticipated would be a private meeting. This show of skepticism dissatisfied the elders and they subsequently refused to meet Hicks with his entourage present. Since no agreeable meeting format could be arranged, the Philadelphia elders drafted a letter declaring that they had broken religious unity with Hicks due to his conduct and religious views.62 Hicks’ supporters stood by him. The Southern Quarterly Meeting wrote their own letter to that effect while local meetings disowned Ezra Comfort and Isaiah Bell, Hicks’ most recent accusers.63 Informal divisions would grow to total separation. Doctrinal soundness became an even heavier concern for Orthodox Friends when a Presbyterian, writing under the pseudonym “Paul,” attacked Quakers as unchristian. Specifically, he criticized their minimization of the scriptures, the very problem the orthodoxy perceived. Benjamin Ferris, under the name “Amicus,” responded to the continuous charges of “Paul” from 1821 to 1823 in the Christian Repository. Ferris did not claim to speak for all Quakers, but since he had taken the role of defender his replies

138 would reflect on the entire Society of Friends. Since his defense was decidedly Hicksite in nature, Orthodox Friends had cause for concern. As “Amicus” addressed the subjects of baptism, the Lord’s Supper, the trinity and atonement he treaded on shaky ground. “Paul” maintained that baptism, in some form, and the were practices instituted by Jesus and carried on by his disciples and that the belief in the trinity was equally necessary.64 “Amicus” argued that none of these were binding on Christians, nor beneficial for them. Baptism in water, Amicus noted, was merely the shadow of the more perfect baptism of the spirit which Christ promoted.65 “Amicus” likewise considered the Eucharist to be of no value not only because its physical observance was reminiscent of Pharisaic rituals, but also because its observance implied a very un-Quaker teaching – that Christ’s blood had to be shed for the atonement of man’s sins.66 Similarly, “Amicus” denied that the doctrine of the trinity was biblical, let alone essential.67 The exchange between “Paul” and “Amicus” went nowhere, except into nauseating repetition, because of the original impasse over scriptural authority and the inner light. This controversy was really at the heart of their continued debate and the Hicksite-Orthodox tension. “Paul” insisted that the Bible must be the standard source of religious truth for reliance on an inner light was too mystical and individual experiences were too numerous to be trusted.68 “Amicus” did not deny the inspiration of the scriptures. In fact, he often used scripture to argue his points.69 Yet, he associated the Bible with “priestcraft,” and doctrinal blindness, and subordinated its value to that of the inner light, just as Elias Hicks was doing.70 “Paul” noted that the real value of the public correspondence between himself and “Amicus” was in the illumination of Quaker views. He was sure that real Christians would not count Quakers among their number when they read “Amicus.”71 Instead, Paul believed, others would consider Quakers to be atheists, or like the Unitarians, a group who focused inwardly and denied the very fundamentals of Christianity. This worried Orthodox Quakers. Since many orthodox Quakers were dissatisfied with the defense of their fellowship offered by “Amicus,” a clear statement of Quaker beliefs seemed attractive to some. Their efforts to create such a statement, however, widened divisions within the society. No formal statement of belief had ever been adopted by the Society of Friends. Certainly the writings of George Fox, William Penn, Robert Barclay, John Woolman and

139 others were held in high regard, but even these constituted no uniform standards of belief. For a religious movement distinguished by its emphasis on Christ within, the inner light, to draft any such statement seemed repugnant. Orthodox Friends, though, were so concerned that apostasy was creeping into their ranks, some thought that such a statement might now be necessary. Thus, the 1823 Meeting for Sufferings in Philadelphia drafted a summary of Quaker beliefs extracted from earlier Friends’ writings hoping to have it included in the published collection of Paul and Amicus letters. When the publisher refused to include them, they simply inserted them into their minutes to be approved by the Philadelphia Yearly Meeting. The discussion this statement inspired was lively. Many opponents cried out against this “creed” while others simply objected to the haphazard form of the statement. Although the statement of belief was rejected, its very proposal heightened the defensiveness of those who would later be called Hicksites. The battles lines had been drawn. Orthodox Quakers considered their opponents heretics who denied, or at least minimized, foundational principles of Christianity such as the inherent divinity of Christ, his miraculous birth, the necessity of his atoning death, and the primary importance of inspired scripture. Since Hicksites considered all of these issues matters of opinion, they did not believe any of them were tests of fellowship. To them, the Orthodox party was wrong to insist on doctrinal uniformity; they were taking on the unholy historical role successively played by Pharisees, Catholics, Anglicans and New England Puritans. Although both sides considered themselves the true heirs of George Fox, the Hicksites had stronger ties to the Quaker tradition of persecution. As religious libertarians, they were not forcing their theology on anyone, only their standards of reform and simplicity. Orthodox Friends were left in the awkward position of being doctrinal policemen, much like those who had opposed George Keith. Yet, because Keith had advocated much of what they now defended, they had little Quaker precedent from which to draw. Hicksites had more Quaker tradition behind them.72 As Orthodox Friends seemed always on the offensive, the role of religious martyrdom came easily for Hicksites. Elias was opposed in person and in writing by several prominent English Friends including Ann Braithwaite, Joseph John Gurney, and Thomas Shillitoe, known as the Quaker George Whitefield. Singling out Hicks, a respected minister after some fifty years of service, made these attacks seem

140 unscrupulous. So too did the personal rebuff Jonathan Evans gave Hicks by refusing to shake his hand at a Pine Street Monthly Meeting.73 More important than these personal attacks were the efforts of the Orthodox Friends to assert their authority in often unprecedented ways. The Philadelphia Quarterly Meeting, for example, challenged the Green Street Monthly for having welcomed visits from Hicks to their families. The superior meeting then tried to dissolve the Green Street Monthly with no authority to do so. Hicksites naturally portrayed themselves as the victims of unloving authoritarians.74 The occasion of actual separation between the Orthodox and Hicksite parties came in 1827 at the Philadelphia Yearly Meeting. Uneasy preparatory meetings among ministers convinced reformer John Comly that division was inevitable. The opening session of the general meeting seemed to confirm that opinion as Orthodox and Hicksite factions could not agree upon a clerk to preside over the meeting. Hicksites opposed the incumbent, Samuel Bettle, because he had openly criticized those who opposed the statement of faith as being of little weight. They also feared that Bettle’s bias would come out in several cases brought before the Yearly in which he was personally involved. Consequently, the Hicksites nominated John Comly, the previous assistant clerk, in place of Bettle. However, Orthodox Friends were equally determined to have Bettle as the clerk again, and to defend the Society against Hicksite heresy. Knowing that the clerk exerted considerable control over the course of the meeting, neither side was willing to yield. Having never come to such an impasse, Friends in Philadelphia had no precedents to follow. Orthodox Friends reasoned that the meeting should continue with last year’s clerk and assistant clerk in place. They were not willing to put the issue to a popular vote because the Monthlies sympathetic to Hicks had sent an unusually large number of representatives.75 Samuel Bettle ignored Hicksite pleadings and warnings and read the first minute of the meeting which, in effect, made him the clerk. After this conflict the meeting conducted business, but not as usual. Conflicts took on a particularly partisan tone. When consensus could not be reached decisions were passed back to the Quarterly Meetings where Orthodox Friends had already asserted unprecedented powers. This left the Green Street Monthly meeting’s controversy unresolved and Hicksite Quakers on the defensive. Thus, one evening before the Yearly was to adjourn, many reformers met at Green Street and drafted a document addressed to

141 Friends within the Philadelphia Yearly Meeting which called for a “quiet retreat from this scene of confusion.”76 This document asserted “that God alone is the sovereign Lord of conscience, and that with this unalienable right, no power, civil or ecclesiastical, should even interfere.” Signers were convinced that earlier Friends were united by this principle and their adherence to it had enabled them to be lights in the world. It was the very principle by which Friends had distinguished themselves, according to these reformers. By implication, Hicksites suggested that the Orthodox party had strayed from the roots of Quakerism. Although the document ends with a plea for unity, it also called its readers to consider the current circumstances and make a decision.77 The Yearly Meeting was concluded the following day, but not without one more controversy. Female Friends who now rejoined the men brought with them the suggestion that the Yearly Meeting establish a committee to examine the ministers of the several Monthlies. Although the reformers objected to this wholeheartedly, they were scarcely in a position to block the proposal having already planned to separate. Orthodox Friends who had attended the open meeting at Green Street were quick to point this out. They found it inconsistent that anyone would move to secede from a body and then attempt to dictate the direction of the body they intended to leave. Furthermore, those who comprised such a committee would have to agree with its existence and purpose. The committee, then, was made up of the most staunchly evangelical Friends, the very people who opposed the Hicksite reformation.78 Now the path to separation was clearly marked. With an Orthodox committee searching for doctrinal heresy and a Hicksite letter calling for liberty of conscience, Friends would have to decide between the parties. In the weeks that followed the Philadelphia Yearly Meeting, local Monthlies divided into Hicksite and Orthodox camps. Other Yearly Meetings followed the same course. Heated battles divided the Yearly Meetings of Baltimore and Indiana, as well as New York and Ohio with Hicks himself in attendance. Only the New England and North Carolina Yearlies avoided separation. Elsewhere, Society properties and burial plots became the objects of legal battlegrounds. Hicksite Friends wanted to divide societal properties proportionately according to the number of members each had, but Orthodox Friends did not universally accept this offer. In some cases property disputes were settled only by the courts.79 The failure of Friends

142 to settle their disputes within their religious society was, perhaps, their lowest point as a body. This peculiar and spirit driven people who insisted on governing their own affairs now relied on the government to settle their differences. Once separated, the Hicksite and Orthodox Quakers each sought to address the problems they believed had led to the separation. Because Orthodox Quakers believed that liberal doctrinal views had caused the disruption they tightened their discipline and continued to distribute Bibles as a doctrinal standard. Although they only had true dominance in Philadelphia, they had the added advantage of being the only faction with which the London Yearly officially corresponded. Even if Hicksites insisted that they were upholding the doctrine and practices of the original Quakers, the Orthodox connection to London gave them an extra claim to legitimacy. Hicksites believed that church authority more than doctrinal issues caused the division. Thus, they did little to assure unity of beliefs. Rather than distributing Bibles, they circulated the journals of original Quaker libertarians.80 After the separation, Elias Hicks continued to do as he had done for over fifty years: preach and encourage Friends across the country. His travels ended in 1830 when he contracted paralysis and died on a trip to western New York. His incredible devotion and endurance was equaled by his uncompromising commitment to original Quaker principles and doctrines. Although he had not called for the separation, he was clearly at the heart of the controversy. The primary issues that led to the division, questions over church authority and doctrinal disputes over Christ’s atonement and the value of scriptures, were issues that Hicks had brought to the fore. While other Quaker reformers confronted the local Orthodoxy more directly, they usually did so in defense of Hicks’ message. Few Quakers had individually touched the Society of Friends so profoundly; his influence was comparable to that of Fox, Barclay and Penn. And no individual since George Keith had such a polarizing affect on Friends as Elias Hicks.81

The story of the Hicksites did not really end at Elias Hicks’ death. They remained a separate branch of the Society of Friends until they reunited with Orthodox Friends in 1955. However, for reasons that will later become obvious, this narrative must stop at Hick’s death in order to focus on Hicksites’ political, reformist, and economic views.

143 Although Elias Hicks had championed Quaker distinctiveness throughout his life, he and his supporters shared much in common with the other sectarians of their day. Quaker worship and Christology remained quite unique, but Hicksites rejected worldliness in much the same way and for many of the same reasons that other sectarians did. Their disinterest in politics strongly resembled the aloofness of Christians and Millerites, sects who had supported the awakening. Their criticism of market capitalism anticipated similar critiques from the Mormons, Millerites and Stoneite Christians. Especially in their rejection of religious reforms, Hicksites favored these sectarians. In all three areas, Hicksites exhibited the same rejection of worldliness that characterizes sectarianism. When Elias Hicks was born the reformist commitment so often associated with Quakerism was being articulated convincingly by John Woolman, Benjamin Lay and others. Eighteenth century Quaker reformers urged Friends to rid themselves of the sin of slavery, to maintain behavioral purity within their ranks and to promote economic justice.82 Hicks carried their reformist tradition into the next century. However, neither he nor his followers were typical reformers of the Jacksonian period, for their promotion of abolition and peace was coupled with a rejection of nearly all other social and religious reforms associated with the Second Great Awakening. Hicksites opposed Bible, tract and missionary societies along with the Sabbatarian and temperance movements. Although there are several specific reasons for their rejection of these movements, their sectarian nature was the underlying cause. For the most part, Hicksites were financially humble, as sectarians tend to be, and this made them especially sensitive to the costs of religious reform. They were less willing and able than Orthodox Friends to collect resources necessary to distribute religious literature and to finance missionary efforts.83 Even if cost was not an issue, their exclusivity discouraged any union with religious reform societies who were comprised of many who did not share their religious views.84 In sectarian fashion, Hicksites rejected the idea that ministers required education and training insisting instead that God’s call was sufficient.85 Their preference for ministerial simplicity pitted them against the educated leaders of reform societies as well. Their sectarian desire to remain untainted by the world also discouraged their involvement in the religious reform societies which seemed to surround and threaten them.

144 Another related deterrent from involvement in religious reform was their understanding that religious purity required the perpetual movement of Christianity. Perhaps this keen awareness came from their own understanding of their historical origins. Friends saw themselves as a religious society who pushed the noble reformation forward while other Protestants simply traded one stale religious establishment for another. Hicksites were now concerned that the post-millennial confidence of reformers was stifling the more important Reformation. They noted that the strict, otherworldly and seemingly uneducated religious sects were attracting more members than the denominational elites. This assessment not only anticipated Roger Finke’s and Rodney Stark’s interpretation of America’s religious free market, but also William Miller’s wilderness ideal.86 Like Miller, Hicksites believed that the corporate body of Christians was strongest when it faced alienation and trials, something Hicksites were experiencing even within their insular society. They were concerned that the establishment of a broad benevolent empire by religious reformers could potentially threaten true religious purity. Quakers had to look no farther than their own history in colonial Pennsylvania to see that living in a blissful Christian atmosphere could easily weaken an individual’s zeal for the faith. In a way, Hicksites expressed a wilderness ideal common among sectarians which reinforced their rejection of religious reform societies. Theirs was not the wilderness of William Miller, or of Brigham Young, but an inward spiritual wilderness. So they focused on the cultivation of one’s inner light as a behavioral guide. Against religious reform organizations, Elias Hicks reserved his most scathing remarks for the Bible, tract and missionary societies. Like Alexander Campbell, Barton Stone and many others, he questioned the motivations of those who led these organizations charging them with greed and selfish ambition. Literalists and spiritualists found common ground in their opposition to religious reform societies. Though they appeared to be doing a good work, Hicks declared that they, like Satan, masqueraded as “angels of light” keeping their sinister motives hidden. “I can have no fellowship,” he declared, “with these bowels of darkness.”87 What particularly perturbed Hicks was that religious societies took advantage of the poor who donated to their cause. Since they falsely appeared to be benevolent societies, Hicks considered them worse than gamblers

145 and horse racing.88 Other Hicksites also shared this view and repudiated “priestcraft,” “hireling ministers,” and the “mite societies.”89 Medieval times were Dark Ages, Benjamin Ferris insisted, not because of the limited distribution of scriptures, but because of the establishment of a “mercenary priesthood.”90 The following excerpt from The Reformer suggests that many Hicksites believed they were living in just such a time: Never before was there a time when more outward duties and services of religion were performed, or a greater variety of means and institutions used to induce others to practice them than at present; and never perhaps was there a time, since Christianity was first preached, when there was less true religion.91

Hicksites opposed Bible, tract and missionary societies not only because greed supposedly drove such groups, but also because they considered the religious societies to be pushers of particular doctrines, not simply general ambassadors of Christianity. Specifically, Hicksites were concerned that the societies were agents of Calvinism. The Berean, a Quaker publication sympathetic to the Hicksite perspective, warned that tract societies were entirely Calvinistic.92 Its contributors took some satisfaction in knowing that the Methodists, an anti-Calvinistic group, were outperforming the Calvinist religious societies in the religious free market though they did not distribute Bibles.93 But what if religious denominations did not compete on a level field? What if tract societies became part of the public school curriculum where compulsory attendance would make them inescapable? This possibility concerned the Hicksites. Again, The Berean sounded the alarm declaring that the writings of Thomas Paine would be less harmful than imposing tracts in schools.94 Another contributor, in words that were sure to agitate racist sensitivities, declared, “We would sooner have a child brought up among the Cherokees, or any other peaceable tribe of Indians than in a school exposed to the inroads of the priesthood.”95 Failed efforts to wed tract societies and schools were causes for celebration in Hicksite publications.96 Hicks acknowledged that some Bible and tract distributors were sincere, but pure motives did not cleanse the corrupt societies. He still considered them deluded at best. Their work was not to be commended in any way. According to “Amicus,” the Bible societies bragged on themselves plenty in contrast to the humble Friends.97 Even if religious reformers worked feverishly for what they considered a worthy cause, Hicks reminded his listeners that what mattered was the fruit one produced, not one’s efforts or

146 intentions. Hicks tauht that the one talent man in Jesus’ parable of the talents had not been lazy, but that he failed to produce fruit because his efforts were misdirected.98 Even if Bible societies demonstrated fruits in the form of conversions, Hicks still saw these groups as dangerous for, to him, they did the will of men, not the will of God.99 By challenging the motives and character of religious reform societies Hicksites were in agreement with other sectarians, especially the Christians discussed in chapter two. By challenging the value of the Bible itself, however, they were in a class by themselves. Even more than the Mormons, who believed they had discovered newer and more authoritative revelations, the Hicksites emphasized the limitations and potential dangers of “religion by letter.” Although Elias Hicks asserted that he used more scripture to prove his doctrines than any other individual, he often aroused Orthodox suspicions with his negative remarks about the Bible.100 Some of his most barbed statements about the Bible have been mentioned and need not be repeated, but a more thorough discussion of his views is useful. Despite all of his scriptural references, Hicks believed the scriptures were quite limited. Without reason they could not be understood properly. Without the Spirit of God, they could not be put into practice.101 Without the experience of direct revelation, they “afford[ed] no truth.”102 While Alexander Campbell believed God’s Spirit dwelled in Christians via scripture, Hicks saw the Spirit fully independent of scripture. For one to know God and to do his will, the Bible was unnecessary, according to Hicks. Reading the works of George Fox, Hicks believed, had considerable advantages over reading the Bible. Fox’s works were originally written in English and would therefore not be subject to errors of translation. Hicks also asserted that they would be easier to understand since they were of more recent origin. Biblical writers’ proximity to Christ may have given them certain insights, but their distance from the nineteenth century made their voices less relevant. They did not know that Christianity would become the mandatory religion of the empire that once suppressed it, or that outward expressions of Christian faith would become commonplace. Fox’s understanding of the spiritual nature of God’s plan and his post-reformation perspective made his voice even more important for Hicks.103 Other Hicksites were quick to point out the Bible’s limitations too. It had not kept its possessors from living in extravagant vanity, becoming prideful, or even shedding

147 blood.104 It seemed that its readers did not necessarily adhere to the principles within its pages, at least not those deemed most important by Hicksites. What was more important than the Bible’s limitations were its potential dangers that Hicks was wont to point out. As previously mentioned, Hicks thought the Bible had done more harm than good by causing multiple divisions among those professing Christianity. Biblical literalists were especially susceptible to this danger, Hicks noted.105 He also declared that the misuse or misunderstanding of the Bible had the potential to minimize people’s acknowledgement of God’s power. In a letter to Phebe Willis he said, “to suppose a written rule necessary, or much useful, is to impeach the Divine character….” Hicks believed that many had replaced God with scripture, the “chief idol,” while others used it for their own ends through manipulated interpretation.106 Still, he told Phebe Willis, he did not wish the scriptures to be annihilated. This was certainly little comfort to the orthodox Willis, for in making this point he compared scripture to alcohol. Both could be done away with to prevent their abuse, Hicks suggested, but, since some benefited from their proper use, Hicks was willing to see them remain.107 Such an analogy was sure to displease both the Bible societies and temperance advocates, neither of which Hicks cared to appease. Another of Hicks’ analogies illustrated his fundamental reason for opposing Bible societies. While speaking at a meeting in western Philadelphia, Hicks condemned those who learned “religion by the letter” and compared their pursuit to Adam and Eve’s unwise attraction to the tree of knowledge.108 Hicks did not see the Bible as a forbidden fruit, but he made it clear that it was not the roadmap back to God, which could only be found within.109 Other Hicksites echoed this view. One Berean contributor suggested that George Keith had fallen into apostasy because he became too learned; his heady religion led him astray.110 Another contrasted the religious “professor (pretender)” who “gets his religion from books, creeds and catechisms and deposits it in his head” to the real possessor of religion whose heart was filled with divine love.111 This head verses heart religious dichotomy employed by the Hicksites relegated all intellectual pursuits to an inferior status and squelched any desire to support Bible societies. Alexander Campbell was convinced that the Bible held the key to the church’s restoration, but for

148 Hicksites, the Bible could be an obstacle to the church’s continual reformation stifling the movement toward pure, spiritual Christianity. Hicksites opposed the Sabbatarian movement for similar reasons; it was, like Bible, tract, and missionary societies, unnecessary and potentially dangerous, they thought. Hicks denied the need for a day of rest just as he denied himself rest choosing instead to travel, minister and work throughout his adult life. Others, he argued, observed the Sabbath because it was popular to do so, not because of conviction.112 Their observance, then, was meaningless to Hicks if it was not freely chosen. The anti- Calvinistic origins of Quakerism made free choice a central part of Friends’ religion and made compulsory Sabbath observance anathema. If governments or popular pressure compelled people to observe the Sabbath, it was as likely to produce sinful idleness as it was to produce holy reflection. Hicks emphasized the importance of free choice and his rejection of Calvinism by insisting that God elected only those who had freely chosen him.113 Even as Christ fulfilled the will of God, another Hicksite remarked, he chose to do so freely, or else all of his acts would have been rendered meaningless.114 In the same way, Hicksites considered it meaningless to have Sabbath observance compelled by law. There was still a deeper reason for the Hicksite rejection of Sabbatarianism. It was an outward, physical counterfeit of the inward, spiritual act of worship. Hicks was convinced that man’s obligation to participate in all such outward observances died with Jesus on the cross.115 To insist on honoring the Sabbath, Hicks said, would be like requiring Christians to honor all Jewish rites, including animal sacrifice; this, he believed, would dishonor Jesus. On his controversial preaching tour through Philadelphia in 1824, Hicks remarked as follows: “All the moral laws on earth fall short of helping us to do our duty to God and to our fellow creatures; and they will remain inadequate, because if they do not, they will take away the honor from God, and attribute it to the creature.”116 Again, Hicks’ views were similar to Alexander Campbell’s on this issue. Campbell’s “Sermon on the Law” also suggested that the Old Law had been nailed to the cross and replaced by a new covenant. They agreed that Sabbath observation would have been religious digression, but they could not have differed more on the necessity of baptism and taking the Lord’s Supper, observances which Campbell considered binding by New Testament command and example. Hicksites believed that no law, whether sacred or

149 profane, governed them but the law they carried in their hearts daily.117 If possible, this made for an even stronger indictment against Sabbatarianism than Campbell’s. The main reform cause embraced by Hicksites was the least popular and most volatile of them all, the movement to abolish slavery. Although active abolitionism did involve Hicksites in a political and economic issue that some may consider worldly, it did not undermine their sectarian nature. Especially in the years prior to William Lloyd Garrison’s The Liberator, abolitionism had such few adherents it could hardly be equated with friendship with the world. Even after Garrison’s campaign and Nat Turner’s rebellion brought abolitionism to the fore, it remained an alienated movement in an age of reform. If anything, Hicksite involvement set them apart even more from other religious groups. By rejecting popular reforms and embracing the unpopular it seemed as though the martyr’s tradition was still strong among Friends. Opponents may not have taken the lives of Hicksite abolitionists, but Elias Hicks urged his brothers and sisters to sacrifice their livelihoods and change their lifestyles for slaves’ sakes in his most famous publication, Observations on the Slavery of Africans written primarily for other Friends. Friends had already rid themselves of slave drivers, slave traders and many slave holders thanks to their nearly century old anti-slavery tradition. But Hicks believed that all of these sinful offices were merely the agents of the consumer. “If we purchase the commodity, we participate in the crime,” he insisted arguing that consumers of slave produced materials were just as guilty as the slave owners, drivers and traders themselves.118 This was no Calvinistic sharing of original sin; Hicks believed every individual was responsible to God for their own actions. One was free, of course, to refuse participation in the slave business and to avoid being tainted with its evil, but ignorance was no excuse. So, Hicks urged other Friends to change their occupations or their buying habits if these helped perpetuate slavery. Such sacrifices, he believed, would be a powerful moral testimony against slavery even convincing others of its evil.119 Although Hicks relied on the moral and economic suasion of John Woolman to battle slavery, he did address the government’s rights and responsibilities in relation to slavery. Governments had to end slavery, he believed, for the same reason individuals had to refuse to buy slave produced materials: to free themselves of the guilt.120 It did not

150 matter to Hicks that slavery was allowed under the Constitution. To him, it stood condemned under a higher law. Governments too would be subject to God’s condemnation if they did not adhere to his principles. States’ attempts at gradual emancipation fell far short of these principles. Hicks particularly criticized New York’s law which freed male slaves when they turned twenty-eight and females at twenty-five because whites were considered liberated adults much earlier. Plus, liberation was only part of what was owed to slaves. Hicks insisted that freed slaves be compensated and that their children be educated; he offered nothing to slave owners as most anti-slavery advocates did. 121 Hicks’ views on slavery were ahead of their time and unique among sectarians.

On more purely economic issues, however, Hicks’ views were quite old fashioned mirroring prevailing sectarian beliefs in a number of respects. Hicks did not speak as often on economic issues as he did on reforms, but from what little he said it is clear that he was an opponent of the market revolution. Demographic and sociological evidence suggest that other Hicksites may have been as well.122 Without question Hicksites discouraged materialism by attacking luxury, criticizing paid ministers, and by making a virtue of Hicks’ own sacrificial ministry for which he never received a salary.123 For most New Yorkers, the most significant event of the 1820s was not the Hicksite separation, but the completion of the Erie Canal in 1825. This manmade waterway opened the door for greater commercial profits and helped advance the market revolution. Hicks opposed it, however, saying that if God had intended there to be a waterway there he would have created one. Though his reasons for opposition are unclear, it seems that Hicks opposed the canal in part because it was manmade. Nature’s beauty and grandeur might cause a soul to reflect on God, but at the Erie Canal one could only marvel at man’s genius. In the same way, Hicks opposed railroads and encouraged Friends not to be involved in such “low and groveling concerns.” After Hicks died, his son in law became a railroad commissioner, a fact that would most likely have disappointment Hicks. Perhaps Hicks opposed all internal improvements not simply because they added to God’s creation, but because they took money away from ordinary people and put in the hands of the government. His comments against tax supported

151 education demonstrate that Hicks had little faith in the government’s ability to use public funds for Quakers’ benefits. He may have opposed internal improvements for similar reasons. Whatever the reason, it is clear that Hicks was no friend of the market revolution.124 Hicks’ faith in market capitalism became so weak that at one point he even questioned the propriety of private ownership, but his anti-Calvinism and spiritualism kept him from going any further.125 He never advocated the creation of a communitarian society as Mormons did, nor did he suggest fundamental changes in the capitalist system. Instead, he continued to live and work within the existing economic system which he considered flawed. His inaction should not be surprising though; economic systems did not interest him as economic justice did and the latter could only be achieved by the free will of individuals. If an economic system could eliminate all poverty, exploitation and injustice it would, in a sense, take away individuals’ economic free will. They would be predestined to succeed materially, or forced by a system to be charitable. Such positive ends would have been rendered meaningless to Hicks by the means used to achieve them. Just as Jesus had to choose his fate in order for his sacrifice to be meaningful, individuals had to freely make economic choices for there to be real financial sacrifice. Furthermore, Hicks was too concerned with inward, spiritual battles to fight for an alternative economic system. By criticizing market capitalism and doing nothing to change it, Hicks displayed a truly sectarian disinterest in the world’s economics. Other Hicksites probably shared Hicks’ economic opinion by virtue of their socioeconomic status. Robert Doherty’s important sociological study of the Hicksite separation has demonstrated that significant socioeconomic differences existed between Hicksite and Orthodox Friends. The former tended to be small farmers, artisans, and laborers while the latter were more urban, more interested in speculative enterprises and more likely to be commercial farmers. These differences may not have been the cause of the separation, but they certainly affected the way each group responded to economic and social changes around them. As the beneficiaries of such changes, Orthodox Friends were not threatened by the market revolution. Hicksites, though, grew more sensitive about economic inequality and assumed a sectarian stance against the pursuit of

152 mammon. Rather than seeing financial wealth as a sign of spiritual success, they praised economic sacrifice as a Christian virtue.126 The potential danger of material wealth was a favorite Hicksite theme. Elias warned that the cares and deceitfulness of riches distracted Christians from spiritual matters.127 Its pursuit was exhausting and its acquisition blinding. Since people were “too abt to amuse [them]selves with vanities,” Hicks suggested, more money would only mean more distractions. “Let us become tired of the vanities of this life; and let us be willing to give up all to God,” Hicks pleaded.128 Others were concerned that wealth threatened the vitality of their religious society. In the following extract Hicks’ defenders suggested that the wealth of Orthodox Friends had undermined their Christian spirit: It is a lamentable reflection, that as sects become rich, popular and powerful, they often persecute those who dissent from them in matters of opinion. Popery first assumed this power; and the rulers and disciplinarians who now sit in judgment and compose Quaker councils, are serviley adopting the same anti-Christian course.129

If wealth could alter the character of a religious society, or stifle the progress of a religious movement, Hicksites learned that they were better off without it. Again, Hicksites took their queue from John Woolman who remarked, “Every degree of luxury hath some connection with evil.”130 Woolman had long since preached a gospel of contentment suggesting that wealth only bred the desire for more wealth. In his instructive journal he had commented on the added burden increased business became to his ministerial pursuits. Too much business had driven Woolman to quit his merchandizing enterprise and to rely financially on his simpler trade as a tailor.131 This allowed him time to carry on his life’s work as a Quaker reformer. Woolman’s “Plea for the Poor” also foreshadowed the Hicksite economic mindset. Therein he urged everyone to find useful employment, making products or providing services that did not compromise Christian principles in any way. He also urged Friends not to become overworked.132 Neither Woolman nor Hicks advocated Sabbath observation, but it seems that they both recognized that people had to guard against being consumed by their occupations. To the poor, Woolman also advised against buying on credit which would truly make them slaves of their luxurious habits. And to the rich, Woolman said to be like fathers to the poor.133 Woolman hoped that his advice and example would help

153 Friends guard against the “carnal mind” that he believed was growing within their religious society.134 Hicksite sectarian economic views were certainly meant to do the same.

The Hicksite separation occurred on the eve of Andrew Jackson’s successful bid for the presidency in 1828 and could, therefore, not have occurred at a more politically charged time. Adding to that was the rise of the Anti-Mason Movement with which Hicks’ comments against secret societies had been compared. Yet, Hicksites hardly addressed political issues at all. When they did broach political subjects it was usually in relation to religious reform and made no reference to partisan politics. Their virtual political silence does not necessarily imply that they were completely aloof politically. They had no Barton Stone telling them not to vote and no William Miller saying there was no time for politics. They had only a few admonitions from Elias Hicks, a heritage rooted in church-state separation and a habit of putting inward struggles first to discourage their involvement in politics. Without thorough statistical data on Hicksite voting records, it is impossible to say conclusively whether or not these were sufficient to keep Hicksites from politics. However, it is reasonable to conclude from their thoughts and actions that Hicksites approached politics as sectarians placing a low value on participation and an even lower one on running for office. Quaker history provided Hicksites with sufficient lessons to discourage excess involvement in politics. Hicksites knew from their past that their society had been most pure when they were at odds with their government. The purest Friends and the ones they revered most were those who had not let the world’s governments compromise their religious convictions. They had refused to fight in Cromwell’s, Wolfe’s or Washington’s army, they had gone to preach where they were banned, and they had condemned institutions sanctioned by the government. From more recent Quaker history James Cockburn learned the following: “Wealth and power entwine themselves deeply round the human heart, and have often involved individuals and societies in proceedings at variance with their own principles.”135 Holding political office, like striving for wealth, was sure to challenge Hicksite principles, they believed. Not only would it weaken their “distinguishing peculiarities,” it would put them in the position of making and upholding

154 written laws though they considered themselves governed only by the inward spirit of Christ. Outward laws, whether ecclesiastical or secular, were beneath the concerns of a principled, spirit-led Hicksite. Elias Hicks exemplified this attitude in his own comments on politics. He preferred that Friends remain aloof, if not completely detached, from political concerns. One of his comments to this effect has already been quoted, but deserves repeating. In his journal Hicks said, “I had to caution Friends against mixing with the people in their human policies, and outward forms of government; showing that, in all ages, those who were called to be the Lord’s people, had been ruined, or suffered great loss, by such associations….” In a letter to William Poole Hicks expressed the same attitude by praising “Amicus” for his retreat from politics. He was one who stood high in a political point of view among the people, having filled several high offices, both in the civil and military department, in pretty early life; but being made sensible of the impropriety of those things, and the inconsistency of such a course of life with the precepts of the Gospel, he made a full and pretty sudden surrender of all his worldly honors and offices….136

Clearly, Hicks did not want Quakers to pursue the reins of government in order to reattempt the establishment of a Holy Experiment. Inward mastery was enough for him. Despite those factors which discouraged being tainted by the world’s politics, Hicksites were touched by Jacksonian political principles. In the years immediately following the separation, Hicksites instituted a system of office rotation in their Yearly Meeting appointments.137 Sensitivity to religious authoritarianism certainly inspired this policy, so too did the Democrats’ insistence on eliminating career civil servants. When it was convenient, Hicksites were majoritarians. Though they acknowledged when battling religious reformers that the truth was not found in numbers, they argued something quite different when explaining their separation from Orthodox Quakers. Frequently, Hicksites emphasized that Orthodox Friends comprised a minority faction who was forcing their will on the majority. Although Hicksite dominated local meetings sent a larger than usual number of delegates to the Philadelphia Yearly, they believed that their numbers further legitimized their position. If political participation could be detrimental to the Hicksites, a convenient use of Jacksonian principles was helpful in their defense.138

155 By now this chapter’s main assertion is clear; Hicksites were sectarians who rejected politics, religious reform societies, and market capitalism in much the same way that Christians, Millerites and Mormons did. The question that remains is “what does this mean for the Second Great Awakening?” Since Hicksites opposed the awakening, does their flight from worldliness confirm what social control historians have said about the Second Great Awakening? On the surface the Hicksites’ story might appear to indicate that remoteness from the awakening was the key to acquiring otherworldliness. The rest of the story, however, suggests just the opposite. It is significant to note that both Hicksite and Orthodox Friends were changed substantially by the absence of the other. At first, Orthodox Friends drew more closely to and further from their distinctive past, but the doctrinal unity they had so emphasized seemed harder to achieve after the separation. They no longer had a liberal enemy against which they could unite. Thus, differences were amplified. Ironically, the major dispute among Orthodox Friends was the degree to which they could accept evangelicalism. Englishman Joseph John Gurney, the most evangelical Friend, minimized Quaker spiritualism proclaiming that God was made known to people only through the Bible. Further, he argued that God’s spirit resided within to guide people toward a correct understanding of the scriptures. Some Orthodox Friends could not tolerate Gurney’s assertions, nor did they appreciate the attention he devoted to politics and religious reform. While Gurney was visiting America, Rhode Island’s John Wilbur expressed his disapproval so strongly that he was dismissed by his Quarterly and Yearly Meetings in 1843. Wilbur still had sufficient local support to form an independent Yearly meeting. Even Jonathan Evans, the Philadelphia Friend most reviled by Hicksites, stood along side Wilbur in opposition to Gurney. The Gurneyite-Wilberite separation created two bodies of Orthodox Friends; one who became almost indistinguishable from other evangelicals and one who held to their sectarian past.139 Hicksites were likewise changed in the absence of evangelical Friends. No longer having a wealthy, urban and worldly faction to oppose, their sectarianism began to wane. In its place grew a liberal body which permitted beliefs and practices that would have received the mutual condemnation of both Quaker factions before the separation. Ironically, this group who took its name from a strict moral disciplinarian found it

156 difficult to remove anyone from their fellowship without mimicking Orthodox authoritarianism. Such liberal discipline among the Hicksites doomed the distinctiveness that characterized them at the time of Hicks’ death and stifled their sectarian movement. Such movements require an enemy who is perceive as worldly against whom they can take a spiritual and moral stand. Hicksites had this enemy in evangelistic teachings and the reform societies of the awakening. As they distanced themselves from supporters of the awakening, however, the only enemy left to battle was intolerance. Thus, the Hicksites became a liberal body that let “people do and believe what they pleased” leaving their sectarian qualities behind.140 The history of the Hicksite separation and this addendum to their story reveals two important truths about sectarianism and the Second Great Awakening. First, it demonstrates, as countless other groups have, that sectarianism is virtually impossible to maintain. Religious groups change over time and so do their relationships with the world around them. Though the Hicksites revitalized the Quaker tradition of distinctiveness which was already quite old, even they were not impervious to accommodation. Among Quakers, the sectarian torch was passed to the Wilburites, a group of Orthodox Quakers who rejected Gurney’s full scale acceptance of evangelicalism. They had not been outspoken opponents of the awakening before, but their opposition to Gurney drove them to a position which was both anti-evangelical and sectarian. The fact that Wilburites, and not Hicksites, were sectarians in the mid-nineteenth century illustrates a second important truth; the Second Great Awakening inspired an otherworldly sectarianism in various individuals and groups. For Christians and Millerites, participation in awakening revivals encouraged them to reject worldliness in all its forms. For Mormons, Hicksites and later Wilburites, opposition to the awakening inspired them to do the same. In all cases, proximity to the awakening was key.

157 CHAPTER SIX: THE TRANSCENDENTALISTS

…Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day….So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. II Corinthians 4:16, 18

In 1831 Charles Finney penetrated the heart of Puritan New England when several Congregationalist ministers urged him to do for Boston what he had already done for New York. A few years earlier Lyman Beecher had pronounced his determination to keep Finney out of Massachusetts. Both men were evangelists and promoters of the Second Great Awakening, but Beecher was uneasy about Finney’s supposed extremism preferring his own and Asahel Nettleton’s reserved style of revivalism.1 Despite his earlier opposition, however, Beecher worked along side Finney as the great evangelist tried to awaken Bostonians spiritually. Finney had some success there, but he was disappointed in the way New England Christians shrank from his “searching sermons.” It seemed to him that his audience was overly concerned that his sermons would fuel Unitarian criticism.2 Indeed, Boston was not so much the heart of Puritanism as it was the heart of by 1831. And this figured prominently into the way in which the Second Great Awakening played out there. The following year, Ralph Waldo Emerson resigned his Unitarian ministry position because he could no longer administer the Lord’s Supper in good conscience. To him, this was a ritual that Jesus never intended to institutionalize and one that distracted modern worshippers from their focus on a spiritual kingdom. Emerson opposed not only the physical emblems of the Lord’s Supper, but also the focus on Jesus, a figure who Emerson admired merely because “he teaches us how to become like God.”3 Emerson’s revolt from Unitarianism and his subsequent initiation of a transcendentalist movement in New England would similarly awaken spirits and stir religious controversy. Despite the simultaneous growth of these spiritual and religious movements Transcendentalism and the Second Great Awakening are seldom coupled together. Scholars of one usually make only scant reference to the other. The primary reason for this scholarly separation is quite valid; Transcendentalists were generally not participants in revivalism and what little they said about it was negative. Similarly, revivalists

158 ignored the Transcendentalist Movement since Emerson and company were neither supporters of revivalism nor numerous enough to mount an effective opposition. Both movements were on separate tracks. Yet in many ways their tracks were parallel. Both the Second Great Awakening and the Transcendentalist Movement were expressions of early nineteenth century Romanticism. While this literary, social and intellectual revolution defies simple definitions it can be characterized as follows: Romanticism was a reaction “against rationalism, mechanistic materialism…and all the dominant ingredients of the Enlightenment.” It honored what was imaginative, creative, mysterious and inward. It championed an organic view of society and a divine view of nature.4 Both the awakening and transcendentalism were expressions of this spirit of the times. They were both initiated in part by their reactions to rationalistic religion. Timothy Dwight’s battle with Yale’s Deists was mirrored in the Transcendentalists’ battle with Unitarians two generations later. Both movements expressed a great deal of faith in people, not simply because of their capacity to observe and comprehend the world around them, but because each was confident in the authenticity of individual emotional experiences, experiences that often occurred in the woods. Many of their mutual adherents saw individuals as perfectible and used non-traditional ways to reach their hearers. Charles Finney used urban revivals rather than a parish pulpit and extemporaneous speaking rather than printed sermons. Emerson left his pulpit to become an itinerant lecturer and freelance writer letting his inner voice articulate God’s message. Another similarity, which is noteworthy even if obvious, is that awakening revivalists and Transcendentalists were both involved in religious movements. Members of both movements sensed the uniqueness of their times. They were not blind to the monumental changes taking place in politics, economics and other aspects of society. This awareness made them both excited about their opportunities to transform American culture and terrified at the prospect of failure. They each perceived that something was amiss with the institutions, culture and prevailing theology surrounding them. Whether they sought to replace or simply modify those structures, they were all involved in efforts to purify, reform, restore and reinvigorate a religious spirit that they believed to be diminished. Their methods of addressing these problems altered as time progressed. As

159 movements they were susceptible to the process whereby sects become denominations. Although the Transcendentalists did not constitute a formal religious body as the other groups previously analyzed, they still struggled to maintain purity within their own ranks, and after a period of exclusivity, they became more comfortable engaging directly in the world’s affairs. All previous chapters have suggested that the Second Great Awakening was a complex movement that simultaneously encouraged the reform of society and individuals. Some, taking their cue from revivalists, participated in politics and reform efforts in order to prepare God’s millennial kingdom. Others, especially newer religious groups, rejected politics and social reform as worldly endeavors and focused instead on evangelism and personal holiness. This simultaneous development of a reform impulse alongside an otherworldly impulse illustrates yet another parallel between the Second Great Awakening and the Transcendentalists Movement. Transcendentalists were similarly divided; some eagerly engaged in efforts meant to reform society while others focused on realizing the intuitive greatness of individual souls whose discovery would transform society without associational efforts. The Transcendentalist Movement was a complex movement with both external and internal manifestations, much like the awakening, and for this reason it is appropriate to study the movements together. Revisionist interpretations of the Transcendentalists have helped bring scholarship of these two movements together. Traditionally, the Second Great Awakening has been characterized by its reform impulse while Transcendentalists have been seen as disengaged intellectuals who, for the most part, were unwilling to get directly involved in social reform movements. Anne Rose suggested that Transcendentalists were not nearly so aloof as scholars had supposed in Transcendentalism as a Social Movement, 1830- 1850.5 More recently, Len Gougeon’s study of Emerson places the chief Transcendentalist in the middle of the reform crusades, especially the abolitionist movement.6 His bold reinterpretation has inspired still more recent studies of the Transcendentalists’ relationship to social reform movements, most of whom accept his position that Emerson was a committed reformer throughout his career.7 This reinterpretation has revealed apparent connections between the Transcendentalists and the Second Great Awakening. In 2004 Barry Hankins brought the two together by

160 emphasizing their mutual commitment to reforms. Though his study addresses the reforms of the Second Great Awakening, he challenges the “social control” thesis and insists that revivalists were sincere in their efforts to save their listeners.8 What is missing is the connection between Transcendentalists and the sectarians of the Second Great Awakening. Hankins’ description of the awakening focuses almost exclusively on Finney, Beecher and their reform efforts and says nothing about new religious groups involved in revivals and less inclined to be social reformers.9 This chapter hopes to establish that connection, however, by showing that Transcendentalists held social, political and economic views similar to the sectarians already discussed. Making this or any assertion about the Transcendentalists comes with a unique challenge that was not a major concern in earlier chapters. Whereas individual leaders, or perhaps a pair or trio of spokesmen articulated the collective views of Millerities, Mormons and Hicksites, Transcendentalism was expressed by multiple varied voices. Emerson has generally been accepted as the prime articulator of Transcendentalism in America, but others had much to say on their own that did not simply fall in step with his views. George Ripley started the utopian community of Brook Farm which Emerson refused to join. Henry David Thoreau went to prison rather than paying taxes in his protest against the Mexican-American War whereas Emerson did not act on his opposition so personally. And Orestes Brownson was a proud Democrat and majoritarian while Emerson was anything but. These and many other examples illustrate the difficulty of identifying a single Transcendentalist position on anything. They were a varied lot united mainly in the independence of their assertions. Since this work is focused on the Second Great Awakening specifically and the sectarian spirit of the Jacksonian period generally, it is not necessary to address every question that still troubles scholars of Transcendentalist thought. Transcendentalists’ views on politics, social reform and economics are analyzed here mainly as a means of demonstrating how widespread sectarianism was in the early nineteenth century. When Transcendentalists’ writings are compared to those of the sectarians it becomes clear that an alienated, otherworldy spirit was a major part of the religious and intellectual climate of the Jacksonian period. It was expressed by supporters as well as opponents of the

161 Second Great Awakening and even by the parallel intellectual movement of Transcendentalism.

To summarize the history of the Transcendentalist movement in America, one must begin with a time and a place. Most logically, the time would be 1836 and the place would be the home of George Ripley. For it was then and there that the first meeting of what would later be known as the “Transcendentalist Club” was held. A group of Harvard graduates met together for a symposium to discuss religion, literature and philosophy at the suggestion of Frederick Henry Hedge.10 And from that first meeting an intellectual, literary and religious movement developed which would have a major impact on American culture far greater than the duration of the movement or the size of its membership. However, before the history of that movement can be explored something must be said about the transcendentalists’ view of history. The occasion that first brought them together was an historic occasion, Harvard’s bicentennial, but the assembly gathered did not see themselves as bound to Harvard’s past, or any past for that matter. Transcendentalists sometimes reflected on their past and even wrote histories of their movement, but these were not meant to establish or propagate a tradition.11 They were merely personal attempts to understand the movement that had promoted the spiritual freedom of individuals. In the Jeffersonian tradition, transcendentalists had little use for the authority of tradition. Much like their contemporary sectarians, they rejected much of their religious heritage, but they moved beyond Christians, Millerites, Mormons and Hicksites by also trying to free themselves and their culture from their intellectual and literary past. But even as they defied the past, Transcendentalists were influenced by European philosophical and literary developments and religious developments in New England. American Transcendentalists appreciated their European intellectual roots as inheritors of the Kantian and Romantic Revolutions because these challenged the Enlightenment tradition that Transcendentalists were most anxious to topple.12 For over a century, the Western world was dominated by the rationalist and empiricist philosophy of the Enlightenment. Eighteenth century Europeans had the assurance that their universe was governed by natural laws waiting to be discovered through the scientific

162 method. They assumed that human progress would be perpetual now that they had been freed from the authority, traditions and theology of the church. And they believed what John Locke had taught about the human mind, that all learning was the result of sense experience and that there were no innate ideas. They were not sure, however, how to answer questions arising from Locke’s epistemology. How could one know that what their senses perceived was accurate, or if those objects perceived even existed materially? More importantly, how could one square their spiritual faith with a philosophy that dealt only with the observable? Immanuel Kant addressed the problems of Locke’s philosophy in his Critique of Pure Reason in 1781. Kant argued that the human mind was not simply a passive instrument absorbing data through the senses; it imposed order on those experiences with pre-existing categories in the mind. The conditions of thought were, therefore, independent of experience, or transcendental.13 Kant’s Critique did not satisfy all speculation, nor was he accepted by most Christians. But by reintroducing the concept of innate ideas and by suggesting that questions of value and morals could not be addressed merely through reason, he gave the next generation what they desperately sought, a philosophy that encouraged spiritual inquiry.14 American Transcendentalists praised both German and French philosophers of the Kantian school for reuniting philosophy and religion.15 Much of America’s knowledge of Kant’s philosophy and that of his disciples came from English literary figures who Transcendentalists also admired. Thomas Carlyle, William Wordsworth and Samuel Taylor Coleridge were among the leaders of the Romantic revolution in literature, which celebrated nature, emotions, the mysterious and the individual. English Romantics were impressed by Kant’s philosophy and by the writing of Goethe and Schiller. Inspired by the Germans, English Romantics chose intuition over pure reason, mystery over order, and creativity over calculation. Coleridge added to Kant’s critique of Locke in his own Aids to Reflection. Coleridge and the others rejected the assumptions and values of the Enlightenment. Whereas the Enlightenment sought to understand the universe through reason, Romantics were creatively enraptured by the wonderful incomprehensibleness of it all. Americans were introduced to German philosophy in reviews of Coleridge’s work by James Marsh and Frederick Henry Hedge, the man who initiated the first meeting of the Transcendentalist Club.16

163 Although the flowering of Romanticism in Europe did cross the Atlantic, American transcendentalism was primarily the product of the very New England heritage that they rejected. It was the manifestation of theological disputes that had challenged New England since its founding. The Puritans who settled Massachusetts and established Harvard College some two hundred years earlier adopted a modified version of Calvinism as their theology. Pure Calvinism, with its emphasis on God’s sovereignty and human helplessness, offered no encouragement for righteous living; people were already either saved or condemned and they could do nothing to change their lot. But as Puritans developed “covenant theology” they provided an incentive for righteousness without undermining God’s sovereignty. Essentially this theology taught that the almighty God voluntarily lowered himself into a contractual agreement with the elect, and those who agreed to enter into this covenant relationship agreed to live righteously as well. As Conrad Wright has described it, covenant theology was meant to prevent the two extreme dangers of Antinomianism and Arminianism; the former was discouraged because the covenant required the elect to live righteously and the latter was avoided because salvation was still a matter of God’s free choice, not humankind’s. Yet, by adopting this theology Puritans started a difficult balancing act between God’s sovereignty and human agency. The more man’s role in the covenant was emphasized, the further away from pure Calvinism they drifted.17 Transcendentalism was simply the final step away from Calvinistic determinism. Along the two century long path between Puritanism and Transcendentalism several major developments marked the way. The first of these was the ministerial response to waning religious zeal. Concerned that second and third generation Puritans would never have conversion experiences necessary to be church members many churches adopted the Half-way covenant. While this did provide some hope for church growth, it undermined the distinction between the church and the world. Solomon Stoddard blurred the distinction further by opening communion to the converted and unconverted alike. Stoddard and other ministers believed that by exposing people to prayer, scripture reading, preaching and the Lord’s table, they might be converted. Thus, salvation was becoming more a matter of human choice and not divine prerogative.18

164 Two generations later, reactions to the Great Awakening also anticipated Transcendentalism. While Jonathan Edwards defended the revivals despite their excesses, Charles Chauncy rejected them completely for their disorder and called for reason to calm the enthusiasm. Chauncy saw himself as the traditionalist and the revivalists as the antinomian innovators. And in a sense he was right; he defended the traditional view of a slow and progressive conversion against the notion that conversion must be coupled with extreme emotion. According to Chauncy, reason calmed emotions and made affective responses to Christ largely unnecessary. Unwittingly, Chauncy and other opponents of revivalism were gradually moving toward Arminianism.19 He and the heirs to his mentality challenged the Calvinists’ view in subsequent theological battles over original sin, free will and justification by faith. In each case the liberals, as Chauncy’s party came to be called, asserted that humans were basically good, not totally depraved by an inherited sinful nature. They came to believe that anyone could accept God’s covenant, not just the elect, and that the path to salvation was through people’s gradual moral development, not via sudden conversions.20 This liberal position, which came to be identified as Unitarianism, dominated the religious atmosphere of both Boston and Harvard by the early nineteenth century. And it was out of this Unitarian environment from which Transcendentalism emerged as both the culmination of that liberal movement and a reaction against it.21 Transcendentalists accepted the Unitarian position that people were basically good and that Calvinism was a demeaning and backward theology. They just went a step further than Unitarians by asserting the potential divinity of all people. Transcendentalists reacted against the obvious influence of the Enlightenment upon Unitarianism. Unitarians were the philosophical heirs of John Locke and the Scottish Common Sense realists. They precariously balanced the rational and the supernatural in their theology, accepting people’s capacity to perceive God in the natural world while still insisting that miracles offered proof that God had revealed himself in a supernatural way in the Bible. A debate over miracles would later be the specific issue that first divided Transcendentalists from Unitarians, but more general philosophical differences anticipated the division. Unitarians were rationalists, Transcendentalists were romantics. The latter rejected the former because they believed the rationalistic Unitarians had forgotten the heart of

165 religion in their attempt to dignify human mental capabilities. Transcendentalists found the Unitarian church to be void of a viable philosophy, without passion or enthusiasm, stagnant, fixed in the eighteenth century and no longer constituting a movement.22 William Ellery Channing (1780-1842) attempted to breathe new life into the Unitarian movement by restoring the spirit of religion to the heady tradition. His efforts earned him the respectable designation “our bishop” from Emerson.23 Channing provided the foundational theological outlook of the Unitarian church when he preached a sermon at Jared Spark’s ordination in Baltimore entitled “Unitarian Christianity” in 1819. Here Channing denounced the Calvinist and Trinitarian interpretation of scriptures, argued for a more rational approach to the Bible and discussed the damage Trinitarianism does to one’s spiritual life. Transcendentalists could appreciate his approach to scriptures, which was akin to the German higher criticism, but, even more, Transcendentalists identified with his 1828 sermon “Likeness to God” where Channing made his boldest statements about people’s potential. Real religion, he said, “is to become what we praise.” People had within them divine qualities no different than God’s except that he possessed them in infinite quantities. They understood God, Channing said, because they had “the seeds of the same excellence.” This line of reasoning found fertile ground among the Transcendentalists who also emphasized people’s divinity. In his plea for a national literature and for the development of self culture and in his social activism Channing anticipated much of what the Transcendentalists would say and do.24 It should be noted, however, that Channing and the Transcendentalists were of different minds. He did not, like most Transcendentalists, break from the Unitarian church; his battles were against Calvinism, not against Unitarianism and rational philosophy. He remained a rationalist who believed that God revealed himself, not just in nature, but supernaturally in the scriptures and through the work of miracles. Most importantly, Channing had a profound sense of duty; sin, for him, was the failure to do one’s duty. For Emerson, sin and duty were practically irrelevant concepts. As an early Emerson sermon indicates, he supported good works only as they were an expression of an inner conscience, but Channing emphasized one’s duty to help the poor and slaves

166 even before one’s conscience compelled such actions.25 Nevertheless, Channing served as an important bridge between Unitarianism and Transcendentalism. Despite the Transcendentalists’ rejection of the past, they were products of recent historical developments. They gladly embraced the Kantian and Romantic Revolutions that had been stirring Europe for a half century, but they also inherited a New England legacy. From the first generation of Puritans, they inherited both the Arminianism and the Antinomianism that covenant theology was meant to avoid. From the Half-way covenant, Transcendentalists inherited a blurred distinction between the church and the world, a distinction that they further obliterated by rejecting the church and preaching the divinity of nature and humankind. From Unitarianism they obtained an elevated view of humans and an appreciation for open intellectual speculation not hindered by authority. Transcendentalists even had direct ties to Calvinism’s ablest defender, Jonathan Edwards. According to Perry Miller, Jonathan Edwards expressed views that approximated the pantheism of Emerson. Puritanism, Miller asserts, originally contained piety, religious passion, and inward communion with God along with its social conformity, law and order. Unitarians maintained the decorum and sobriety of earlier Puritanism without its dogmatism; Transcendentalists revived the mystical aspects of earlier Puritanism.26

With this intellectual and religious heritage present, even if not acknowledged, the “Transcendentalist Club” started meeting in 1836. It seemed harmless enough; it was simply a gathering of friends who met to discuss religion, literature and philosophy. Among the club’s members were Frederick Henry Hedge (1805-1880), Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882), George Ripley (1802-1880), Amos Bronson Alcott (1799-1888), Orestes Brownson (1803-1876), Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862), Margaret Fuller (1810-1850), Theodore Parker (1810-1860), William Henry Channing (1810-1884), Elizabeth Peabody (1804-1894) and others. They were New England’s own, mostly Unitarian ministers who met when Hedge managed to free himself from ministerial duties in Maine to join his friends around Boston. Yet these periodic meetings were perhaps not as innocent as they first appear. Those gathered were primarily united in their dissatisfaction with the prevailing culture and in their independence. Transcendentalists were as free from each other as they wanted to be from their past. Although they shared

167 certain common interests in literature, philosophy, education, and nature, they trusted their own thoughts more than any others’ and hoped to encourage others to have a similar faith in their own voice. In this way their meetings were not unlike those hosted by Anne Hutchinson two centuries earlier. Like her, the Transcendentalists challenged the religious authorities and harkened only to their inner divine voice. Their enemies were not nearly the authoritarians that John Winthrop was. They were liberal Unitarians. Yet, the Transcendentalists, through their meetings, publications, and lectures, initiated a religious movement that challenged the religious world immediately surrounding them. When the Transcendentalist Club first started meeting in 1836, some of its members had already expressed or acted on ideas which put them at odds with the Unitarian culture around them. Ralph Waldo Emerson’s Nature was published in that year and his pantheistic views were open for scrutiny. Even if New Englanders understood the philosophical idealism of Jonathan Edwards, Emerson must have sounded quite heretical by asserting: “I become a transparent eyeball; I am nothing; I see all; the currents of the Universal Being circulate through me; I am part or parcel of God.”27 Nature for Emerson was a source of inspiration, the place where humans find themselves and God because it was God’s work. By declaring nature to be a “mute gospel,” Emerson opened the mouths of critics.28 Orestes Brownson’s New Views on Christianity, Society and the Church and William Henry Furness’s Remarks on the Four Gospels also challenged the structures of Unitarian faith. The former did so by insisting that the philosophy upon which Unitarian theology rested was incompatible with religion and the latter did so by declaring that Jesus “taught nothing more than the religion of nature….”29 Amos Bronson Alcott also inspired criticism with the publication of his Conversations with Children on the Gospels in the same year. Although Alcott was the only Transcendentalist without formal education, his career was as an educator and it was in this realm that he expressed faith in human intuitive powers as Emerson had done in Nature. His Temple School in Boston had opened its doors two years earlier. There Alcott led a group of about thirty students between the ages of six and twelve to contemplate their inward spirit through his Socratic teaching style. By avoiding rote memorization and corporal punishment Alcott’s methods were unusual, but it was his open discussions of religion with children which created the most controversy. For

168 Alcott, it made sense to ask children to decipher the spiritual meaning of scriptures and not to impose upon them orthodox interpretations for he considered children’s spirits pure and most capable of understanding spiritual messages. Shortly after he published Conversations, parents withdrew their support of the Temple School.30 George Ripley initiated perhaps the greatest controversy within Unitarianism by inspiring a theological battle waged in Unitarian journals. While reviewing James Martineau’s The Rationale of Religious Inquiry, Ripley suggested that the supposed liberal theology of Unitarianism was even more damaging to one’s spirit than the Calvinism of old. The negative view of man in Calvinism was at least transparent, but in Unitarianism human nature was depreciated slyly by the orthodox position on miracles. Unitarians were rational Christians whose faith in human reason gave them a more elevated view of people than any other Christian fellowship. Yet, what distinguished them from pure Deists was their belief that God had revealed himself not just in the order of the universe, but in the Bible itself. Because people did not always use their rational powers, Unitarians held, revelation from God was necessary. The foundation for this “supernatural rationalism” was the authenticity of the miracles described in the Bible. Through an ironic suspension of reason, Unitarians insisted that miracles provided the evidence needed to prove the truth of the Bible.31 Ripley challenged this doctrine and asserted that while biblical miracles probably did occur, they were not the best proof of God’s revelation; man’s very nature provided all the proof needed.32 Christianity did not need the testimony of miracles when all of nature was a miracle.33 Unitarian leaders could not sit still while Ripley attacked the foundation of their faith; they needed a giant champion to deal with the stones that Transcendentalists were hurling. That champion was a man who had taught several of the Transcendentalists at Harvard, including Ripley. Andrews Norton was a Unitarian whose reputation as a defender of liberal Christianity was equal to that of William Ellery Channing. Norton wrote a letter to the Christian Examiner where Ripley’s review was published expressing his disappointment that such views were published by the Christian Examiner and now associated with it. Ripley replied in a sarcastic and venomous tone practically inviting a theological and personal war to be waged in the religious journal. While Ripley was sure that he could not convince Norton of his position given the philosophical differences

169 between the two, he still dared Norton to keep the fight going with these words: “If you should see fit, Sir, to continue this controversy, which I am as far from shrinking from as I am from courting, I trust it will be with a desire to elicit truth by discussion rather that to silence it by authority.”34 Neither side shrank from the controversy, but Transcendentalists would have to find another vehicle for their ideas since the Christian Examiner no longer published their works, either because they wanted to avoid controversy, or because of Norton’s influence. Outside of journals Transcendentalists still had lectures and their own publications through which to express their ideas. Emerson was given this opportunity when asked to speak to the Phi Beta Kappa Society at Harvard in 1837 about a year after the Transcendentalist Club first met. On this occasion he delivered his “American Scholar” address. As Perry Miller points out, Emerson made no reference to the controversy within Unitarinianism and thus his address appears timeless, perhaps even innocent. But given the context of time and place, “The American Scholar” was a frontal attack on the Unitarian establishment in its own citadel. It reinforced the battle lines between the Unitarian “bookworms” and the Transcendentalist “Man thinking.”35 Ironically, Emerson told Harvard’s best graduates that they could have spent their time more wisely.36 “When [we] can read God directly, the hour is too precious to be wasted in other men’s transcripts of their readings.”37 Emerson declared the true scholar to be free from tradition, books, popular opinion…even the definition of freedom.38 He urged his listeners not to shirk their responsibility to trust themselves with the full assurance that God was revealed in nature around them and their souls within.39 Although Emerson closed by urging Americans to be free of European thought, this address was more than a national declaration of intellectual independence; it was a declaration of individual spiritual sufficiency apart from the church and society.40 The following year Emerson launched a barb at the Unitarian church even more jagged when speaking to the Harvard’s Divinity School. He declared that Jesus’ divinity was derived simply from his sole realization that “God incarnates himself in man.” Christianity, according to Emerson, had made a grave error by deifying Jesus and denying the possibility within other people to become his equal. For Emerson, Jesus was divine only in a sense that all people could be divine by realizing God’s spirit within.

170 Thus, he paraphrased Jesus’s claim to divinity as such: “I am divine. Through me, God acts; through me, speaks. Would you see God, see me; or see thee, when thou also thinkest as I now think.”41 In a related point, Emerson identified what he considered to be the other great error of Christianity, the belief that revelation was a thing of the past. New revelations, he said, and not the testimony of miracles, was needed more than ever.42 His call for new revelation was not original. Joseph Smith had called for new revelation and believed that God spoke through him alone. Emerson’s belief in the divine voice potentially present within anyone was more akin to the Hicksite Quaker view of revelation, but the “Divinity School Address” went further; Hicks still believed that the inner light was cultivated by waiting on God in study and mediation and in fellowship with other saints, it was not something that emerged spontaneously from one’s communion with nature or in scholarly, artistic solitude. Emerson had clearly broken new ground and, at least in the strictest sense of the term, broken from Christianity altogether. Declaring the potential divinity of all people may have been, as Octavious Frothingham suggested, the logical last step in Protestantism, “claim[ing] for all men what Protestant Christianity claimed for its own elect,” it was not a step Unitarians were willing to take.43 Orthodox Unitarians still trying to win their point on the authenticity and necessity of biblical miracles were shocked by Emerson’s “Divinity School Address.”44 Andrews Norton once again attacked the “New School in Literature and Religion,” and condemned Transcendentalists in “A Discourse on the Latest Form of Infidelity.” In articles by these names, Norton attacked the foundations of Transcendentalism ridiculing Coleridge, Carlyle, Victor Cousin and others praised by the Transcendentalists.45 He described the Transcendentalists as irrational people with “firm footing in the clouds.”46 What concerned Norton, though, was the negative influence Transcendentalists were having on the minds of the young. He realized that it was the Divinity School’s graduating class who invited Emerson to speak and who were most receptive to his message. Norton was concerned that this “new school,” ludicrous as it may have been, had the potential and desire to disrupt the community.47 Transcendentalists would have had no way to respond directly to Norton’s criticism if not for the establishment of two journals friendly to their views. The Western

171 Messenger published in Louisville, Kentucky, was started by James Freeman Clark, William Eliot and Ephraim Peabody in order to defend Unitarianism in the West. However, over time it became more of a literary magazine and finally a Transcendentalist organ.48 This predecessor to The Dial published favorable reviews of Emerson’s Nature and even filled its pages with the text of this and other works of Emerson.49 Although The Western Messenger was an able defender of Transcendentalism and circulated widely in the East, Orestes Brownson believed another journal was needed to address New England more directly. Thus, he started his Boston Quarterly Review in 1838 and almost single-handedly filled its pages regularly. Brownson defended Emerson’s “American Scholar” and the character of Bronson Alcott, still a controversial figure because of his views on education. He also went on the offensive against Andrews Norton criticizing his Evidences for the Genuineness of the Gospels. The inner witness of God within individuals, Brownson said, made revelations unnecessary.50 Although Brownson was an able champion of Transcendentalism, he did not always defend as Emerson would have. For him, the battle between Transcendentalists and Unitarians was not primarily a philosophical struggle between idealists and rationalists; it was a social struggle between democrats and aristocrats.51 Whereas Emerson lauded the spirit within individuals, Brownson’s faith was in the spirit of the masses. He believed that great individuals were the products of a great national spirit; they were made by history not makers of history. Brownson believed that Emerson mistakenly emphasized solitude for scholars and artists and chided Emerson’s individualism with the following: American scholars we shall have, but only in proportion as the scholar weds himself to American principles, and becomes the interpreter of American life…The idea of this nation is that of democratic freedom, the equal rights of men. No man, however learned he may be, however great in all the senses of greatness, viewed simply as an individual, who does not entertain this great idea, who does not love it, and struggle to realize it in all our social institutions, in our whole practical life, can be a contributor to American literature.52

Brownson further critiqued William Wordsworth, an artist Transcendentalists admired, because Wordsworth was not for social equality.53 Clearly, with the publication of “The Laboring Classes,” Brownson was for social equality. In this, his most controversial work, Brownson advocated the elimination of monopolies, privilege and hereditary

172 property to prevent the subjugation of laborers, although, he predicted, these reforms would be met with violence.54 Brownson was a dogmatic majoritarian who eventually abandoned Transcendentalism for Catholicism and the Democratic Party, but his preference for collective reform over individualism was expressed by other Transcendentalists.55 Differences between individualists and collectivists became more apparent later. In 1840, the Transcendentalist Club focused on launching a journal, something that had been a dream of theirs for some time, but when the vision materialized they faced the tough realities of initiating and sustaining a successful magazine. Choosing an editor was somewhat difficult since most members were heavily taxed by independent writing projects. Emerson was the logical choice, but he was too protective of his own independence to be saddled with such a responsibility. Other original members, Hedge and Ripley likewise declined. Brownson was willing to take on the project, or rather to absorb the Transcendentalists’ energies in his own journal, but none could accept this. The duty fell to Margaret Fuller instead.56 Finances were a perpetual problem, too. Although Transcendentalists did not define success in terms of profits, they did not want their journal to be a financial drain. It proved to be one, however, with a readership of never more than three hundred, and an inability to pay its contributors or its editor.57 Worse still, it was often an intellectual drain, especially for Fuller as she struggled to fill its pages without abandoning the lofty goals she set for the journal.58 The half-hearted support given by some members, Hedge and Ripley for example, put an even larger burden on Fuller, Emerson and other regular contributors. Fuller burned out in two years, and the journal, under Emerson’s editorship, exhausted itself in 1844.59 Despite these difficulties, The Dial was a spiritual success. Emerson said that the goal of The Dial was to measure sunshine, not time, and it radiated the beams of Transcendental light. It was certainly not the “dead face of a clock,” but a truly unique journal that cast shadows of doubt upon the rationalist clocklike universe.60 The Dial offered space to provocative and controversial publications. Chief among these were Ripley’s positive appraisal of “Brownson’s Writings” and Alcott’s “Orphic Sayings.”61 The former was controversial because it was written just after Brownson wrote and published “The Laboring Classes.”62 The latter was a series of provocative proverbs

173 which added to Alcott’s reputation as a religious radical and caused Fuller to balk at their continuous publication.63 The Dial also included some of the most important enduring writings of the Transcendentalists like Fuller’s “The Great Lawsuit,” which would later become Woman of the Nineteenth Century, an important catalyst for the initiation of the women’s rights movement in America.64 It provided a forum for young writers like Henry David Thoreau and Theodore Parker to express their enduring and original ideas publicly. It introduced new pieces of poetry and reviewed modern literature. It elevated the role of the literary and social critic, declaring them to be the “needed friend” of artists. Most of all, it did what Margaret Fuller said critics were to do, suggest thought.65 While The Dial suggested thought, George Ripley suggested action. He bought a farm in West Roxbury, Massachusetts and urged others to join him in creating a model society at Brook Farm. Ripley hoped to bring together working and thinking, manual labor and education in a microcosm that would demand the attention of the wider world. “If wisely executed,” he said in the fashion of Winthrop, “it will be a light over this country and this age. If not the sunshine, it will be the morning star.”66 Ripley’s project attracted a number of scholars and students who wished to work and learn together, but many more experienced Brook Farm as mere visitors. Emerson, for one, preferred his own private utopia and said so in a reply to Ripley’s invitation to join. He admired Ripley’s ambition, but he believed that the school had nothing to offer him personally and he was skeptical of the community’s success.67 Emerson’s refusal to join Ripley at Brook Farm marked an important cleavage in Transcendentalist ranks between individualists and collectivists just as the earlier parting of Emerson and Brownson had.68 To confirm the differences between individualists and collectivists one need only consider the divergent paths each traveled in the early 1840s. In 1841, when Ripley initiated his communal experiment at Brook Farm, Emerson published a series of lectures including his most individualistic, “Self-Reliance,” which implicitly denounced Ripley’s farm. Emerson defined right and wrong in terms of his own conscience saying “The only right is what is after my constitution; the only wrong what is against it,” and further declared his belief in the absolute truth of the private heart.69 By implication, his private rejection of Brook Farm suggested that it was not right for anyone. Certainly it was not right for him. There was no improvement which Ripley hoped Brook Farm to model that

174 Emerson did not think he could develop better in solitude.70 If an individual was “better than a town,” as Emerson taught, he was also superior to a community.71 Emerson’s emphasis on self-trust and his denunciation of imitation were indictments against Brook Farm where members were receptive to all manner of popular reforms from Grahamism and abolition to water cures and starving cures.72 Especially when Brook Farm adopted the socialistic ideas of Charles Fourier, Emerson could “anticipate [their] argument” just as he could when any individual’s conscience was under the submission of a sect.73 His comments on freedom from consistency could just as easily have been applied to the Fourier experiment at Brook Farm: “Leave your theory, as Joseph his coat in the hand of the harlot, and flee.”74 Brook Farmers did flee, or rather they were forced to quit their communal experiment in 1847 when a great fire added to their financial woes. They did not, however, abandon their commitment to collective reform just yet. The Harbinger, which was published by the Brook Farm Association, continued to sound the call for universal reform for two more years.75 Bronson Alcott’ was normally an individualist, but after a trip to England in 1843 he was also caught up with the desire to reshape society through model utopias. His community, Fruitlands, was located on a farm in Harvard, Massachusetts. Its name hinted at its moral code. Fruitlands was a vegetarian community that used no animals for food, clothing, labor, or as suppliers of fertilizer. So serious were they about the elevation of all living things that they hired no manual labor and ate no vegetables that grew downward. These restrictions made life for the tiny community hard enough, but the absence of Alcott and other men giving lectures brought the ill conceived experiment to an end in just six months. Alcott’s partner, Englishman Charles Lane, joined the Shakers in his continued quest for a better social arrangement. Alcott returned to his first loves, education and conversations with children and parents.76 The quintessential example of transcendental collectivism, however, was neither Alcott’s community at Harvard, nor Ripley’s at West Roxbury; it was West Roxbury’s Transcendentalist preacher Theodore Parker. Parker was distinctive among Transcendentalists because he did not leave the Unitarian Church, but continued to preach while finding himself in the middle of the transcendentalist controversy. As “Levi Blogett,” Parker articulated the Transcendentalist position on miracles; using his own

175 name he inspired the same admiration and criticism to which Emerson was accustomed. In “A Discourse on the Transient and Permanent in Christianity,” differentiated between true Christianity and Unitarianism saying they were as dissimilar as Jesus and Mohammed.77 He echoed Emerson’s “Divinity School Address” by suggesting that people had wrongfully deified Jesus and the specific words of the Bible rather than taking the timeless principles to heart.78 Christianity, Parker said, would still be true even if Jesus performed no miracles and had lived in Athens.79 Sentiments such as these alienated Parker from conservative Unitarians, but his social views separated him from Emerson and the individualists. In 1840 Parker called together reformers of all kinds at the Chardon Street Chapel in Boston. Afterward, Parker gradually became more involved in a multiplicity of reform movements. Temperance, abolition, women’s rights, penal reform, the Sabbath and the peace movement all captured his attention. None held it alone and none compelled him to forsake all other duties in pursuit of a particular reform, but Parker was unquestionably a universal reformer most interested in saving individuals by reshaping social structures.80 At the opposite end of the Transcendentalist Movement was Henry David Thoreau, critical of reformers and disinterested in associational life. While Parker made his mark mingling among Boston’s reformers, Thoreau made his retiring to the woods.81 As Brook Farmers tried to establish a model community, Thoreau tried to become the model individual living out Emerson’s “Self Reliance.”82 He hoped that others who read Walden would see that they could be freer with fewer possessions, smaller houses, more simplicity and less work. As he saw it, most individuals lived in “quiet desperation” constantly enslaved to their desire for luxuries, fashions, and possessions. Living a most simple life and strictly defining the necessities of it, Thoreau freed himself from work for all but six weeks per year. He spent the balance of his time reading, studying nature and cultivating his individual spirit.83 This did not mean the death of Thoreau’s social concern; he opposed the Mexican-American War so strongly that he chose jail over paying taxes. The resulting “Resistance to Civil Government” was concerned with social and political matters, but it was an expression of Thoreau’s unbending individualism.84 In Walden he pushed for less routine work, here he argued for less government. In both cases it was individualism which Thoreau held dear; he would not sacrifice it for wealth,

176 government or reform. Thoreau even abandoned the serenity of Walden Pond when it ceased to serve his individualism. As he noticed ruts in the path he walked to the pond he realized that even an individual in solitude faced the dangers of conformity and tradition.85 Other Transcendentalists’ living experiments were terminated because the communities could not be sustained financially. After voluntarily living in simply poverty, Thoreau’s ended when the woods no longer sustained his spirit. By 1850, most scholars agree, the Transcendentalist Movement had run its course. All of the major Transcendentalists, with the exception of Margaret Fuller, were still living, but they no longer met together as a club.86 Parker tried to revive the meetings, but got nowhere. Their journals were no longer published, their communal experiments had been abandoned and Thoreau had returned from the woods. Though they continued to write and lecture, their most important works had already been published.87 What was once a revolutionary force in New England religion and culture was now tamed. Perry Miller has suggested alternative explanations for why the movement ended. Perhaps they had simply lost to the growing industrial and entrepreneurial spirit which would characterize American culture in the mid-nineteenth century. For all of their rhetoric, Transcendentalists had, after all, very little to show for their efforts. With great interest people could read and then simply ignore them.88 Or perhaps, as Miller intimates, the Transcendentalist Movement was terminated by its own success. The more Unitarian ministers resembled Emerson, the less revolutionary Transcendentalists seemed.89 This hypothesis suggests the possibility that the Transcendentalists had gone through the sect- denomination process. Although they were never as exclusive as a sect, nor as organized as a denomination, they did seem to become less idealistic and more comfortable acting in the world around them. The impending crisis over slavery consumed more of their energies and even the individualists among them became increasingly involved in social and political activism. Whatever the cause of these developments, attention must also be given to their views on politics, social reform and economics with an eye toward their sectarian qualities resembling those discussed in previous chapters.

Transcendentalists did not share a united view of politics, social reform and economics. Given their intellectual independence and the divisions between

177 individualists and collectivists among them, this is not surprising. Their views on these three issues were as varied as those held by participants of the Second Great Awakening. Among the Transcendentalists were Democrats and Whigs, the champions and critics of majorities, some of whom engaged personally in politics and others who distanced themselves from the political fray and at least one of whom challenged the very necessity of government and the utility of voting. They were among the greatest supporters and greatest critics of social reform. When speaking on economic issues some anticipated socialism or the communism of Karl Marx and others the Social Darwinism of William Graham Sumner. Thus, describing a singular Transcendentalist view of politics, social reform or economics is impossible. However, there were certain commonalities among Transcendentalists on these issues that were quite similar to those of the sectarians analyzed earlier. Transcendentalists expressed greater interest in economic affairs than most of the other sectarians discussed so far. While some were content to simply condemn materialism, like the Christians, none ignored financial issues altogether as the Millerites. As the Mormons had done, Transcendentalists established communities with cooperative economic systems as alternatives to the capitalist world around them. Perhaps Transcendentalists shared this common interest with the Mormons because they viewed the physical, material world in a similar way. Whereas both Christians and Millerites believed that all material things were distractions from divine pursuits that would be destroyed, Transcendentalists and Mormons placed a higher value on the physical world. Mormons believed that matter was eternal; Transcendentalists believed that God permeated the natural world. Rather than considering economic affairs beneath the concerns of the righteous, both groups saw economic justice as a major part of their mission. For Mormons, it was the means by which the church was sustained; for Transcendentalists, it was the means by which individual souls could be elevated. Brownson’s “The Laboring Classes,” Parker’s “Sermon of Merchants,” the communities of Brook Farm and Fruitlands and Thoreau’s Walden experiment all expressed different forms of economic discontent and different means of elevating individual souls. For Brownson, the problem was the suppression of laborers and the development of strict class divisions which were perpetuated by conservative protectors of institutions,

178 especially the clergy.90 Laborers’ conditions were so poor, Brownson said, that they suffered more than slaves having “all the disadvantages of freedom and none of its blessings, while the slave, if denied the blessings, is freed from the disadvantages.” Further attacking the wage system he wrote, “Wages is a cunning device of the devil, for the benefit of tender consciences, who would retain all the advantages of the slave system, without the expense, trouble, and odium of being slave holders.”91 Here, Browson sounded much like George Fitzhugh in Cannibals All!, but his purpose was to protect workingmen, not to defend slavery.92 Brownson was also concerned about the affects labor had on workers’ “health, spirits and morals.” While some placed responsibility on individual workers and employers to resolve the problem, Brownson argued that this social problem could only be addressed by the government compelled by the collective voices of the people. He did not deny that different levels of talent would lead to inequalities in fortune, nor did he wish to eliminate all financial inequality. He wanted the government to remove artificial barriers that gave perpetual advantages to some and inescapable disadvantages to others. Namely, he wanted the elimination of banks, monopolies and hereditary property. Because he was convinced that the rich would never consent to such changes, he believed that they would have to be forced and he was ready to wage such a war.93 Bronson Alcott and George Ripley did not advocate violence to change the economic system, but they did take matters in their own hands by establishing communities with alternative economic systems and advancing their own solutions to economic problems. For Alcott, the simple solution to all economic problems and perhaps many spiritual problems was living simply. Complex trade, competition and private property were undesirable features of capitalism, in Alcott’s mind, as was government intrusion in economic affairs. Having no more admiration for government than Thoreau, Alcott was a proponent of laissez faire economics, not because he wanted competition to flourish, but because he considered government intervention unnecessary in a cooperative, self sufficient, economic community governed by love and not greed. He shared Brownson’s concern for the working class and hoped to protect laborers’ dignity by not hiring them and by having Fruitlands residents take up manual labor themselves. In the end, however, his inattention to labor and finances in general brought

179 the Fruitlands experiment to an early end. Alcott’s community paid too little attention to industrial labor and was too simplistic to be applauded by most socialists.94 Judged purely on his economics, Ripley was a disappointment as well. His community was far more organized and less restricted by bizarre moral and dietary standards. He more thoroughly addressed the problems of workers by encouraging manual labor at Brook Farm and by trying to alleviate laborers from the monotony of toil by dividing communal tasks according to talent and interest according to Fourier’s model. But Brook Farm recognized private property, honored the institutions of church, government and marriage, and placed intellectual over material development too much for most socialists. As an economic model, the community was hardly a “city upon a hill.” It was supported by its school more so than its agricultural and industrial output.95 Thus, Ripley’s community, like Alcott’s, was more a spiritual and intellectual success than a material one. Since this was Ripley’s intention, his Brook Farm experiment should not be judged too harshly. Theodore Parker’s comments on economics also focused on spiritual matters. He did not agree with Brownson’s radical stand on property, but he did comment on the negative effects of wealth and privilege in several sermons. After delivering a few sermons that were diluted versions of Brownson’s treatise, he delivered his most original economic sermon “A Sermon of Merchants” in 1846. Parker expressed serious concern that the wealthy had become more powerful than ever. Being challenged neither by priests nor nobles, Parker said, America’s merchant class had become a dangerous new elite with the power to buy legislatures, control churches, alter the teachings of theological schools and pass laws favoring employers. Parker did not lament the rise of the merchant class, nor did he try to inspire class conflict. He simply pointed out an ironic change accompanying the rise of the merchant class. Earlier merchants had been political liberals, the Whigs of the Revolutionary generation, but since then, they had become conservatives, modern day Tories. In a sense, they had undergone the economic equivalent to the sect-denomination process; a group that once struggled independently for its success was now complacent and arrogant, preserved by tariffs.96 Parker laid on the rich the burden of taking care of the poor. If merchants used their position wisely and responsibly, Parker was satisfied that they were doing God’s will.97

180 Of the Transcendentalists’ commentary on economics, Thoreau’s was the most spiritual. He did not offer material solutions to economic problems in Walden, only the benefits of simplicity, poverty. Thoreau had little use for either capitalism or socialism; strictly speaking, he held to no economic theory, but he was adamant about individuality and anti-materialism. He found it strange that people took such interest in knowing the amount of money he made lecturing.98 Why should everything be valued in proportion to their monetary worth, he wondered?99 He repudiated wealth and the pride that typically accompanied it preferring the wisdom of voluntary poverty.100 Simplicity and poverty he considered the paths to individual freedom. Wealth only added to one’s worry and stunted inner growth, while poverty gave one an appetite for life.101 People wasted most of their lives working, Thoreau thought, in order to become wealthy, but if they would adopt simpler habits they would be free from unnecessary toil. Other Transcendentalists suggested that individuals engage in manual labor more often to relieve the working class; Thoreau urged people to free themselves from mundane toil and spend more time cultivating their spirits. Besides, Thoreau believed the only work of any value was that which had intrinsic worth. “The ways by which you may get money almost without exception lead downward. To have done anything by which you earn money merely is to have been truly idle or worse. If the laborer gets no more than wages which his employer pays him, he is cheated, he cheats himself.”102 Thoreau’s emphasis on simplicity and individualism left no room for government intrusions into the economy. He neither supported their charity, nor their internal improvement projects. These he called “external and superficial.” Having government funded railroads did not benefit people, for they did not ride railroads, but were ridden on by them.103 Thus, Thoreau had little regard for economics and material concerns whether on the national or personal level. Emerson offered yet another variation on Transcendentalists’ economic views. His were like Thoreau’s in some ways. He objected to socialism and considered material externals an obstacle to inward development.104 Neither Emerson nor Thoreau was willing to abandon their pursuit of self culture in order to help the less fortunate. Like the sectarians, they valued spiritual salvation for themselves and others over the temporary relief charity might provide. “Are they my poor?” Emerson asked when pressured toward philanthropy. He begrudged the “wicked dollar” that he sometimes gave under

181 pressure, but hoped to be man enough to resist in the future.105 In an early sermon Emerson expressed even stronger opposition to charity. “When you give a dollar to a starving beggar, what good have you done? You have appeased his hunger for a little hour, and given bread to himself and his famished child, until the evening…but with the morning sun, his misery returns…it is to yourself the good was done.” Thoreau likewise favored giving of oneself over the giving of money, calling philanthropy overrated and selfish. In this regard, Emerson and Thoreau resembled William Graham Sumner’s social Darwinism, but the accusation is more fitting for Emerson who had money than for Thoreau whose acceptance of poverty stunted his sympathy for the poor.106 Emerson did not retreat to the woods, live in poverty, or express indifference to his income. He departed from Thoreau in at least one other way; he found that having money could be beneficial for the freedom it provided. Those who had it were not as miserable as Thoreau surmised.107 One recognizes a few common themes when analyzing the Transcendentalists’ views on economics. They were, first of all, universally against materialism; here they held to the traditional Biblical maxim: “the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil.” Because money diverted people’s attention away from enlightenment, Transcendentalists did not encourage the single-minded pursuit of it. They were also concerned with the dignity of the working class and advocates of manual labor. Despite their communal experiments, they held some fairly orthodox economic opinions, which in the American setting meant they were classical liberals. According to Harriet Cunningham’s study, they were generally supported private property, free trade and the rights of individuals.108 They generally looked to one’s internal sense of justice rather than the coercion of government, to correct economic ills. Most importantly, outside of Brownson and perhaps William Henry Channing, they subordinated economics and material concerns to spiritual pursuits. Charles Finney urged Bostonians to do the same when he visited in 1831.109 So did all of the sectarians studied herein. Transcendentalists generally had a cautious attitude toward politics. For individualists, at least, politics ran counter to their self-trusting values. Truth for them was determined by looking inward, not by counting hands and determining the majority’s opinion. In his “Orphic Sayings,” Bronson Alcott condemned America’s obsession with

182 numbers with these words: “Beelzebub marshals majorities,” and “The voice of the private, not public heart, is alone authentic.”110 Emerson’s “Self Reliance” and Thoreau’s “Resistance to Civil Government” echoed this sentiment as well. Emerson urged people to place the “law of consciousness” above popular standards and the eternal laws found in the individual soul above the laws created by legislatures.111 Thoreau, more than any other, held the individual conscience supreme. “Men are degraded,” he thought, “when considered as the members of a political organization.”112 He found politics narrow and unimportant as he gazed upon the nature.113 After going to jail for his opposition to a popular war he had this to say about individuals and majorities: Can there not be a government in which majorities do not virtually decide right and wrong, but conscience? –in which majorities decide only those questions to which the rule of expediency is applicable? Must the citizen ever for a moment, or in the least degree, resign his conscience to the legislator? Why has every man a conscience, then? I think that we should be men first and subjects afterward. It is not desirable to cultivate a respect for the law so much as for the right. The only obligation which I have a right to assume is to do at any time what I think right.114

Coupled with their positive views of individual conscience were negative views of the electoral process. One of Alcott’s “Orphic Sayings” again illustrates the point. “Sinners choose; saints act from instinct and intuition.”115 While individual voters may instinctively know the best candidate without much contemplation, the nation could not collectively intuit their leaders. Alcott did not suggest that they do so, but he clearly expressed his disdain for the political process. Similarly, Thoreau suggested that politics should be treated as a natural bodily function; it should be handled unconsciously as a necessity without disturbing “man’s waking hours” lest it interfered with one’s work toward enlightenment.116 He expressed his own misgivings about voting in the following: All voting is a sort of gaming, like checker or backgammon, with a slight moral tinge to it, a playing with right and wrong, with moral questions; and betting naturally accompanies it. The character of the voters is not staked. I cast my vote, perchance, as I think right, but I am not vitally concerned that the right should prevail. I am willing to leave it to the majority. Its obligation, therefore, never exceeds that of expediency. Even voting for the right is doing nothing for it. It is only expressing to men feebly your desire that it should prevail.117

183 Much like Barton Stone, the individually focused Transcendentalists saw politics as a distraction. Their only responsibility was to act in harmony with God’s higher law. If Thoreau and Alcott expressed the most negative views of politics, Orestes Brownson and George Bancroft were at the opposite extreme. Like the Mormons, they admired America’s government and the elective process and engaged strategically in party politics to achieve their goals. Bancroft, especially, believed that voting was an almost mystical act that helped bring the majority’s collective conscience to light; the more voters, the greater the decisions rendered.118 Though not as mystically, Brownson also expressed confidence in American democracy and kept the public politically informed by writing and publishing many articles on current political issues. However, despite his involvement and confidence in America’s political system, Brownson recognized enough flaws in the political system to make him politically cautious as well. He accepted the permanence of the two party system, but not as equally legitimate options. America would always have a party favoring people and one favoring wealth.119 As long as the Whigs mastered the people through the banks and tariffs and since they had adopted the Democrats method of appealing to the masses, there was always a chance that majorities would choose poorly.120 Brownson did not lose his faith in popular sovereignty with each Whig victory, but he did become more convinced that majorities could be manipulated. Even if they were not manipulated, Brownson realized that majorities could be dangerous if absolute, tyrannizing individuals. Here Brownson resembled both Alexis de Tocqueville who decried the tyranny of the majority, and John C. Calhoun who did not wish his minority voice to be completely disenfranchised.121 Like other Transcendentalists, Brownson declared that justice, not majorities, must be sovereign.122 Although he considered America’s democracy to be the best political means of achieving justice, he did not mistake the means for ends. Transcendentalists were restrained in their political activism because they saw themselves primarily as scholars and artists. Much like Barton Stone, who considered politics outside the concern of true Christians, Transcendentalists believed it was not a scholar’s true realm. Frederick Henry Hedge described a scholar as one who sacrificed materially and abstained from politics striving instead after self culture.123 Although in his “American Scholar” Emerson described a more active scholar, he felt discomfort

184 when he entered the political arena. In 1837 Emerson wrote a letter to President Martin Van Buren questioning his policy toward the Cherokee Indians. This was a new step for Emerson who was, up until this time, politically aloof. He expressed his regret privately still convinced that he should keep his distance from political issues.124 From then until 1844, Emerson entered what Len Gougeon called his “silent years” not specifically addressing another political issue publicly in that time.125 What broke Emerson’s silence and awakened other Transcendentalists to political involvement was the slavery issue. Since Transcendentalists had always been more concerned with the natural laws of justice than with partisan politics, it is not surprising that they were drawn to politics by the main moral political debate of their time. And this was a political issue that especially conflicted with Transcendentalists’ principles. They were not all for racial equality, but they did oppose any impediments to individuals’ intellectual and spiritual development; slavery was certainly such an obstacle. For this reason, Transcendentalists had always been against slavery. But, like Alexander Campbell, they condemned abolitionists as well. However, despite their earlier misgivings, their political involvement increased steadily in the 1850s.126 In this way Transcendentalists’ political attitudes were inversely related to those of the Millerites; Millerites withdrew from politics when they believed the end was coming near, but Transcendentalists increased their political activities as time drew nigh. Several specific acts related to slavery compelled Transcendentalists to become more active politically. Thoreau made his stand over the Mexican-American War which he believed was fought only for the advancement of slavery. For most others, the Fugitive Slave Act was the turning point. As part of the Compromise of 1850, Congress passed a law requiring northerners to go against their consciences and return fugitive slaves to their owners. Emerson and company could not abide this violation of moral principles so they made their voices heard on this and every subsequent issue related to slavery throughout the decade. Four years after the bill’s passage, Emerson opened on address on this subject by explaining why he did not “often speak to public questions.” He then proceeded to assail the once monumental Daniel Webster for supporting the bill. Webster, Emerson thought, could have “brought the whole country to its senses,” but instead he cowered away in the name of union.127 The kind of give and take compromise

185 necessary in the world of politics was anathema to Emerson. He and other Transcendentalists had much greater appreciation for the principled and mission-driven John Brown. Although they typically opposed violence on principle, Parker supported him financially, Thoreau defended him, and Emerson idolized him as a great man.128 The mania over slavery certainly affected Transcendentalists’ views on politics. Their late enthusiasm for political causes, however, should not obscure their typically sectarian attitude toward politics. While they still constituted an intellectual and spiritual movement, Transcendentalists were quite averse to politics. This was most true of their individualists who decried the political process and the rule of majorities. It was also true of the scholars among them who considered politics outside their domain. To a certain extent, it was even true of those who later became their most politically active. Theodore Parker, who was arguably the most politically active Transcendentalist, criticized the “Pharisees of politics” before his name became synonymous with social reform and political activism.129 In the 1850s, when the Fugitive Slave Law, Uncle Tom’s Cabin, fighting in Kansas, Senator Sumner’s caning, the Dred Scott decision, and John Brown had made slavery the political issue of the day, Parker considered it a duty to attend to political affairs. He circulated petitions and counseled senators, his own and those not representing Massachusetts. Still, he considered himself a “non-political reformer” not shackled by institutions, not restrained by constituents, but free to speak on moral issues without compromise.130 The Transcendentalist Movement emerged in a period of intense social reform that both scholars and the Transcendentalists recognized.131 Between 1836 and 1850 America was alive with efforts to improve society. Evangelical Christians took the lead in these moral and social reforms distributing Bibles, encouraging temperance, protecting the Sabbath, calling slavery into question and promoting a wide array of other causes in their efforts to create the kingdom of God on earth. Secularists, too, promoted certain social reforms confident in the perfectibility of humans. Even the Unitarian Church, out of which the Transcendentalist Movement emerged, got involved.132 Social reform constituted part of the world surrounding Transcendentalists. According to Octavius Frothingham, they embraced this culture being natural reformers unsatisfied with leaving “men as they were.”133 But they also criticized specific reforms for some of the same

186 reasons sectarians did, especially in the early stages of the Transcendentalist Movement. One is puzzled, then, when trying to define their views on social reform. The subject has inspired scholarly debate since commentary was first made on the Transcendentalists. The closing of this chapter will not settle the debate, but it will point out some noteworthy similarities between Transcendentalists’ views of social reform and those inspired by the Second Great Awakening. The Transcendentalist Movement most resembled the Second Great Awakening in its participants’ attitudes toward social reform. Some Transcendentalists actively promoted the causes of temperance, peace, prison reform and abolition all in order to reshape and improve society. Others among them, the individualists, were skeptical about social reform and critical of reformers. They encouraged people not to become lost in social reform efforts which could become a distraction to the more important task of deepening individuals’ spirits. Similarly, some participants of the Second Great Awakening promoted social reforms while others, the sectarians among them, encouraged Christians to distance themselves from worldly distractions. The early Transcendentalist Movement resembled sectarians in their negative attitudes towards social reform, but as the movement progressed, Transcendentalists became more active in social reforms like the more developed evangelical denominations. Despite Transcendentalists’ “natural” inclination to reform, their spiritual and liberal individualism made them enemies of some reform efforts. They dismissed certain reform efforts automatically. Bible, tract and missionary societies did not receive their support; they scarcely received their attention. Emerson was convinced that Bible societies were impotent when he witnessed one existing harmoniously next to a slave auction in Florida.134 Because Transcendentalists believed that God was revealed in nature, they did not believe that the distribution of scriptures was necessary to help people find God. Their debate with Unitarians over miracles demonstrated that they promoted a religion, or spirituality independent of scriptures. Like the Hicksites and Mormons, they opposed Bible societies preferring other sources of divine inspiration. The most devoted Transcendentalist reformer, Theodore Parker, made this most plain when he distinguished between the Christianity of Christ, the church and society. The Christianity of Christ, he believed, was lost on Bible and missionary societies.135

187 Other specifically religious reforms garnered mixed feelings. For example, Theodore Parker opposed the idea of protecting the Sabbath by law, but he did not want “to see the Sunday devoted to labor or to sport:;” he still thought that devoting at least one day to “spiritual culture” was positive for both individuals and society. At an Anti- Sabbath Convention, Parker said, “we can cast out the Devil without calling in the aid of Beelzebub” to remind others that the idea of a Sabbath, void of its legal restrictions, should not be dismissed.136 As Thoreau demonstrated at Walden Pond, Transcendentalists could have a life of perpetual Sabbaths without the support of government. While Parker was a moderate opponent of the Sabbath, he was a moderate supporter of temperance. Though he thought alcohol was a good thing when used properly and opposed in the invasion of private rights, he believed the teetotalers pledge was right for the times; he thought abstaining from alcohol was pragmatically positive.137 Transcendentalists favored education, but they did not want children to receive a narrow education at a Sunday school. Their principles accepted only the type of Sunday school William Ellery Channing described, one that taught the person of Jesus without catechism or mechanical teaching that deadened the mind.138 Transcendentalists’ spirits were more in accord with other reform efforts that were less tied to religion. In principle, most of them supported peace advocacy, women’s rights, prison reform, and the elevation of laborers, but even when they agreed with the cause, they did not necessarily agree with the means of addressing it. Individualists like Thoreau believed that the best means to reform were private; reform needed no convention.139 Frederick Henry Hedge echoed this sentiment. All the reform associations, he charged, had not improved many people, but the example of reformed individuals could.140 Emerson, too, argued that concerted action was no more beneficial to reform and was most often injurious.141 The prophet of self reliance opposed the imitation of it all. “Every project in the history of reform, no matter how violent and surprising, is good,” Emerson asserted, “when it is the dictate of a man’s genius and constitution, but very dull and suspicious when adopted from another.”142 Thus, individualistic Transcendentalists repeatedly expressed displeasure at the associational means of reform.

188 Transcendentalists also objected to the shortsightedness of social reforms. They considered it too often misdirected and narrowly conceived. Individualists focused on the self as both the proper means and object of reform. Thoreau considered fixing one’s self to be the most important and difficult task of all. He saw outward crusades as a way of escaping this most important responsibility.143 To those who believed he neglected his duties as a citizen of the world he answered: “One would like to be making large dividends to society out of that deposited capital in us, but he does well for the most part if he proves a secure investment only, without adding to the stock.”144 Reforming one’s self was all that duty required. Emerson also criticized social reform for addressing the effects and not the cause of social ills.145 Because every symptomatic problem had a corresponding reform association to address it, Emerson found social reform too narrow. “Is virtue piecemeal?” he asked.146 Although collectivists were more supportive of social reform, they also found it too narrow. Theodore Parker could not just focus on one reform cause, but was active in nearly all of them. George Ripley’s Harbinger also declared that Democrats, abolitionists, the advocates of peace, temperance, and moral reform would be ineffective separately; they could only reshape society by joining together.147 Whether they focused on the self or associationalism as the “reform of all reforms,” Transcendentalists often disparaged social reform. In addition to questioning the cause, means, and focus of social reform, Transcendentalists attacked its messengers as well. Much like their sectarian contemporaries, Transcendentalists questioned the character of reformers. Thoreau called them diseased.148 Although he considered the future theirs and not the conservatives,’ he was convinced that reformers would become more distasteful.149 He fled “those coming to do [him] good” at Walden Pond.150 Others may have run to embrace the reformers, but their popularity made Bronson Alcott question their virtue. He commented that saints were only popular in heaven and did not desire the applause of men.151 Emerson found reformers timid and unequal to the task because they had not first reformed themselves.152 Emerson’s criticism of reformers could be venomous, but ultimately he said they were merely products of their times. If they were extremists, Emerson understood, they simply reflected the falsehood of the institutions that they challenged.153 Emerson and

189 others were changed by the times as well. Just as in politics, the slavery issue compelled Transcendentalists of both the individualists and collectivists varieties to act. By the 1850s all of those who had maligned social reform found themselves promoting abolitionism. This disconnection between what was said and what was done, or between the earlier and later Transcendentalists, has given scholars fuel for debate on the true relationship between Transcendentalists and social reform. Because of his cardinal position among Transcendentalists, the debate has centered on Emerson. At various times he has been considered a conservative opponent of social reform or a liberal promoter of social causes. Those claiming he opposed social reform have focused on his early writings and those claiming he was a supporter look to his later writings.154 Recently, Len Gougeon has effectively argued that Emerson was always concerned with reform, but that his struggle to define the role of a scholar in social reform delayed his official entry into the public realm.155 Others have concurred with this view and reminded potential critics that Emerson’s definition of self reliance always allowed for personal redefinition; a one time critic of reform could become a supporter without being untrue to his or her self.156 Thanks to these recent contributions to scholarship, Emerson and the Transcendentalists have, in effect, been rescued from the negative image of being selfish, conservative and distant opponents of social reform. Yet there is an irony in the revisionist conclusions of recent Emerson scholars. Emerson is now praised by them because of his lifelong commitment to reform; he has become “virtue’s hero” because of the new emphasis on his involvement in reforms and politics. His reputation and that of the Transcendentalist Movement has been saved because it now appears that Transcendentalists were more engaged with the world than previously assumed.157 Ministers of the Second Great Awakening, on the other hand, have been treated quite differently. Rather than being praised for their involvement in politics and social reform, they have been called meddlers, power hungry and accused of social control. That which passes for virtue among the Transcendentalists is considered manipulation when practiced by evangelical ministers. Perhaps scholars have treated the two movements differently because many ministers of the Second Great Awakening supported reform societies which were meant to convert people to a specific religion while Transcendentalists simply wanted devotion to humanitarian reform in general.

190 Perhaps the involvement of active clergymen in political affairs seems more a violation of church-state separation than the political activities of men who constitute an intellectual and religious movement, but who no longer have any affiliation with a church. It could be that Transcendentalism and the Second Great Awakening are judged by different standards simply because they are studied by different sets of scholars. Whatever the case, it seems that the Second Great Awakening has been unfairly judged. If the leaders of other quasi-religious movements are praised for their activism, its leaders should not be criticized for theirs. Both the Transcendentalist Movement and the Second Great Awakening were complex movements with both a reform impulse and an otherwordly spirit. The Transcendentalist Movement has been praised recently because their reform efforts have come under sharper focus. Hopefully, by demonstrating the otherworldly spirit of the Second Great Awakening, its reputation will be similarly saved.

191 CHAPTER SEVEN: CONCLUSION

For almost two hundred years the Second Great Awakening has eluded precise definition and characterization. Contemporaries took sides defending or condemning its manifestations. Scholars have explained its origins, features, proponents, enemies and results. But neither has satisfactorily interpreted the entirety of this religious movement that spanned half a continent and nearly half a century. Without the synthesis of scholarship specific traits of the awakening which were most pronounced in specific places and among specific groups have been generally attributed to all involved in the awakening and used to characterize the movement as a whole. Specifically, the efforts of Congregationalists in New England to reshape society through political pressure and associational reform have been overemphasized. The Second Great Awakening cannot be reduced simply to a caricature portraying it as a religious movement that spawned a number of reform societies and encouraged revived Christians to use their political power to create an evangelical empire. Some of those touched by the awakening had little interest in politics and social reform, at least not as a means of creating an evangelical empire; they focused instead on individual redemption, holiness and preparation for the next life. This was true of many Methodists, Baptists and Presbyterians, but it was especially true of new sects which emerged in the peak years of the Second Great Awakening. Scholars wanting to characterize the Second Great Awakening must consider these sectarians. Analysis of the Christians/Disciples social and political views demonstrates that social reform and political activism did not always follow religious revival. After Barton Stone initiated the Cane Ridge revival, arguably the most famous revival in American religious history, he did not turn to political or social reform. In fact, he stayed aloof from reform societies and encouraged people not to participate in the ungodly world of politics. He believed the divisiveness of parties ruined any hopes of unifying God’s church and the distraction of worldly affairs turned Christians’ attention away from spiritual pursuits. Stone’s worldview was apocalyptic; thus, he rejected everything that considered “worldly.” The other leader of the Stone-Campbell movement, Alexander

192 Campbell, also opposed social reform societies and discouraged political participation despite his more optimistic, post-millennial worldview. As a restorationist he wanted to follow the pattern of the first century church as described in the New Testament. The church then was an underground movement with no political power. Campbell believed that efforts to make Christian ethics binding on all American citizens were a violation of church-state separation and a threat to Christian purity. The true Christian, according to Campbell, was not born or coerced by laws, but one who chose to be immersed in baptism, died to the world of sin and rose to live a new life. Millerites also exemplify the otherworldly spirit of the Second Great Awakening. William Miller’s lectures on Christ’s imminent return attracted many listeners, but his message reached a much wider audience when Joshua Himes utilized techniques familiar to ministers of the awakening. Through journal publications, a system of distributing religious literature and the last great wave of the awakening’s revivals, Miller’s adventist message spread. Although it attracted many who had been active in social reform, Miller’s message eventually inspired his followers to leave all worldly pursuits, including social reform efforts, behind. The urgent pre-millennialist message was key. Because Millerites were convinced that Christ’s return would come quickly and destructively, they were compelled to focus their energies and resources preparing for it. Evangelical churches had been growing in numbers and influence throughout the early nineteenth century, but Miller was concerned that their comfortable status had made them weak. The church was always strongest, he contended, when it was alienated. Many of his followers became just that as they left churches that did not preach with such urgency, abandoned their possessions, awaited Christ’s return and were mocked after their disappointment. Another alienated group, the Mormons, provide further evidence that an otherworldly perspective was common among those touched by the awakening. What little religious background Joseph Smith possessed came from attending revivals during the Second Great Awakening. Their denominational pluralism perplexed him and caused him to wonder which group was right. After several divine visions, he was convinced not only that no existing denomination was right, but that it was his responsibility to restore the true church. With extraordinary charisma he attracted people who followed him from

193 New York to Ohio, Missouri and eventually Illinois where he was martyred. In each location the gathered saints devoted themselves to establishing God’s kingdom on earth. Because Mormons had a very physical understanding of that kingdom, they built temples, coordinated economic activities and voted collectively in order to further it. They were doctrinally and theologically distinct, but they shared with Christians/Disciples and Millerites a rejection of moral reform societies. Although they supported temperance, anti-slavery and Sabbatarian goals, they stayed aloof from societies organized to address such issues. Their interest was not in creating a moral America, but in creating the kingdom which would eventually topple all other kingdoms. The traditional view of the Second Great Awakening is also challenged when a branch of Quakers called the Hicksites are considered. Although Hicksites rejected evangelicalism, they were powerfully affected by the awakening which inspired otherwordliness in them. Their leader, Elias Hicks, urged Friends to be distinct as they had been traditionally. As he perceived it, many Friends had become too friendly with the world around them pursuing wealth, engaging in politics, joining ecumenical social reform organizations, and distributing Bibles like many evangelicals. He challenged the so called “Orthodox” Friends for their recent evangelical leanings. They in turn charged him with heretical beliefs and moved to censure all such heterodoxy. The awakening upset precariously balanced Quaker doctrines on the nature of Christ and the necessity of scripture. Doctrinal and ecclesiastical differences eventually divided the Quakers into two separate bodies. Once Quakers divided, Hicksites were distanced from any association with the awakening; without an enemy which they could call worldly, Hicksites lost their sectarianism. Later a branch of the Orthodox Friends, the Wilburites, carried the sectarian banner. The Hicksite narrative demonstrates that proximity to the awakening was essential in producing an otherworldly outlook. Finally, the Transcendentalist movement helps one understand the Second Great Awakening more richly. Several Transcendentalists rejected materialism, partisan politics and social reform societies as the sectarians did. Their movement paralleled the awakening, each having both individualistic and social threads. The fact that otherworldliness was shared by Transcendentalists and sectarians, shaped by the Second

194 Great Awakening, suggests that it was a prevalent outlook among early nineteenth century Americans. It was certainly prevalent enough to warrant further investigation. This dissertation has been successful if it convinces others that the Second Great Awakening was, at least in part, characterized by an otherworldly impulse and if it encourages scholars to investigate this impulse further. Those wishing to take the next steps should consider two thematic approaches. The first is the sect-denomination process. More attention must be paid to religious groups’ stages of institutional development. This work has suggested that the awakening inspired different responses from formerly established churches, mature denominations, maturing sects and emerging sects, but more investigation is needed to see if that theory is valid. Even if it is not, future scholars must take institutional development into account if they are to fairly characterize the awakening or any other multi-denominational religious movement. The other theme which should be considered is the wilderness. Many of the awakening’s revivals took place in the wilderness and much of its energy was spent trying to tame it. The subjects of this work, however, often believed that the wilderness, both literally and figuratively, was where religious and spiritual development was strongest. There they were aliens, distinct and set apart from the world, moving toward a promised land. Outside of the wilderness distinction faded and movement ceased. Scholars would be wise to explore these themes of the Second Great Awakening lest their understanding of the movement also becomes prematurely settled.

195 ENDNOTES

Chapter One: Introduction

1 Martin Marty suggests that what legal disestablishment of churches in the US took away, the evangelical ethos gave back creating a de facto established church. In England, where there was a church established by law, the religious ethos was weak. See Martin E. Marty, “Living with Establishment and Disestablishment in 19th Century Anglo-America,” Journal of Church and State 18:1 (1976): 61-77.

2 Ernst Troeltsch, The Social Teaching of the Christian Churches, vol. 1. (New York: Macmillan, 1931), pp. 331-343.

3 H. Richard Niebuhr, The Social Sources of Denominationalism (New York: World Publishing, 1929). See also Ruth B. Bordin, “The Sect to Denomination Process in America: The Freewill Baptist Experience,” Church History 34:1 (December 1965): 77-94.

4 See Roger Finke and Rodney Stark, The Churching of America, 1776-1990: Winners and Losers in Our Religious Economy, (New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 1992).

5 Donald Mathews, “The Second Great Awakening as an Organizing Process, 1780-1830: A Hypothesis,” American Quarterly 21 (Spring 1969): 23.

6 According to Richard J. Carwardine, revivals were more constant after 1819 in the second half of the awakening. See his Trans-Atlantic Revivalism: Popular Evangelicalism in Britain and America, 1790- 1865 (Westport, Connecticut: Greenwood Press, 1978), pp. 51-2.

7 See Samuel C. Preston, “From Church to Denomination: American Congregationalism in the 19th Century,” Church History 38 (March 1969): 67-87.

8 Charles E. Johnson, “The Frontier Camp Meeting: Contemporary and Historical Appraisals, 1805- 1840,” Mississippi Valley Historical Review 37:1 (June 1950): 92.

9 Carwardine, Trans-Atlantic Revivalism, p. 16.

10 Dickson D. Bruce, Jr., And They All Sang Hallelujah: Plain-Folk Camp Meeting Religion (Knoxville: University of , 1974), p. 5.

11 John Len Eighmy, Churches in Cultural Captivity: A History of the Social Attitudes of Southern Baptists, 2nd ed. (Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press, 1987): 19; Bertram Wyatt-Brown, “The Anti-Mission Movement in the Jacksonian South: A Study in Regional Folk Culture,” Journal of Southern History 36:4 (November 1970): 501-529; M. Scott Miyakawa, Protestants and Pioneers: Individualism and Conformity on the American Frontier (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1964), pp. 144-158.

12 For a thorough history of Baptists’ struggles against church establishment see William G. McLoughlin, New England Dissent, 1630-1833: The Baptists and the Separation of Church and State, 2 vols. (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1971).

13 Baptists also underwent the sect-denomination process, but their denominationalism was expressed more through the formalized training of ministers and conventionalized conversions. Their strict

196 congregationalism still discouraged cooperative social reform efforts. See Bordin, “The Sect to Denomination Process in America,” pp. 77-94.

14 The use of the terms “worldly” and “otherworldly” may seem curious or vague to some readers, but there are reasons for using this terminology. First, no other terms capture the essence of the sectarians as well. While some millennial language comes close, it cannot be applied as generally. The groups studied here expressed a variety of millennial views while some expressed none at all. They cannot all be described as pre-millennialists, eschatological, or even those awaiting the millennial kingdom of God. However, for the most part they can be described as anti-materialistic and anti-political. They all subordinated temporal, or worldly concerns to spiritual, otherwordly ones. Finally, they made use of the terms as well. When they spoke of evil and sinful deeds, or just activities, attitudes and states of mind which were either incompatible with Christianity or a distraction from Christian life, they called those things worldly.

15 For early accounts of the Second Great Awakening see Catherine C. Cleveland, The Great Revival in the West, 1787-1805 (Chicago: P. Smith Press, 1916); Charles Roy Keller, The Second Great Awakening in Connecticut (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1942); Arthur B. Strickland, The Great American Revival: A Case Study in Historical Evangelism with Implications for Today (Cincinnati: Standard Press, 1934); Bernard A. Weisberger, They Gathered at the River: The Story of the Great Revivalists and Their Impact upon Religion in America (Chicago: Quadrangle Books, 1958). For an interesting analysis of the historiography of the Second Great Awakening see Virginia Lee Holsheiser, “From James Finley to Anne Loveland: A Historiographical Review of the Second Great Awakening,” (Master’s Thesis, University of Missouri-Columbia, 1983). In this work Holsheiser analyzes the interpretations of contemporary observers to the awakening, second generation writers, and professional historians to 1980. Works since the 1980s still disagree on the origins, nature and results of the awakening.

16 This interpretation of western revivals has its roots in Frederick Jackson Turner’s frontier thesis. Catherine Cleveland and William Warren Sweet saw western revivals as a way of taming the frontier and establishing order. See Cleveland, The Great Revival in the West, 1787-1805; William Warren Sweet, Revivalism in America (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1944); Religion on the American Frontier, 1783-1850, 4 vols. (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1939-1964). M. Scott Miyakawa, one of Sweet’s students, follows Turner’s thesis as well, but challenges his idea that individualism prevailed on the rugged frontier. See his Protestants and Pioneers.

17 Although most historians see Finney as having significantly altered Calvinistic theology, if not doing away with it altogether, the precise relationship between revivalism and Calvinism is a source of dispute. For the more common interpretation which presents Finney as a major revisor of Calvinism see William G. McLoughlin, Revivals, Awakenings, and Reform: An Essay on Religion and Social Change in America, 1607-1977 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1978); David William Kling, A Field of Divine Wonders: The New Divinity and Village Revivals in Northwestern Connecticut, 1792-1822 (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1993); Howard Alexander Morrison, “The Finney Takeover of the Second Great Awakening During the Oneida Revivals of 1825-1827,” New York History 59:1 (1978): 27-53. For the alternative interpretation which presents Finney as a defender of Edwardsian Calvinism see Allen C. Guelzo, “An Heir, or a Rebel?: Charles G. Finney and the New England Theology,” Journal of the Early Republic 17:1 (1997): 61-94.

18 Terry Bilhartz, Urban Religion and the Second Great Awakening: Church and Society in Early National Baltimore (London and : Associated University Presses, 1986), p. 134. Bilhartz offers a similar summarization of how scholars have viewed the awakening.

19 John R. Bodo, The Protestant Clergy and Public Issues, 1812-1848 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1954), p. 5.

20 Charles C. Cole, Jr., The Social Ideas of Northern Evangelists, 1826-1860 (New York: Octagon Books, 1966), pp. 77, 125.

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21 Clifford S. Griffin, Their Brothers’ Keepers: Moral Stewardship in the United States, 1800-1865 2nd ed (Westport, Connecticut: Greenwood Press, 1983), p. 43. For other early examples of the social control thesis see Timothy Smith, Revivalism and Social Reform in Mid Nineteenth Century America (NewYork: Abingdon, 1957); Charles I. Foster, An Errand of Mercy: The Evangelical United Front, 1790-1837 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1960). For an interesting variation on the social control thesis see J. Thomas Jable, “Aspects of Moral Reform in Early 19th Century Pennsylvania,” Pennsylvania Magazine of History and Biography 102:3 (July 1978): 344-63. While most have argued that evangelicals turned to political pressure when their reform societies were unsuccessful, Jable suggests that moral stewards worked through the law first and then turned to reform societies when legislative efforts failed.

22 Samuel S. Hill emphasized that the Second Great Awakening was experienced differently by the north and south. Any characterization of the awakening which does not account for this difference will be misleading. See Samuel S. Hill, The South and the North in American Religion (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 1980), p. 30.

23 Donald G. Mathews, Religion in the Old South (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1977), p. 42; John B. Boles, The Great Revival, 1787-1805: The Origins of the Southern Evangelical Mind (Lexington: University Press of Kentucky, 1972), pp. 165-74; The Irony of Southern Religion (New York: Peter Lang, 1994), pp. 18-21; Bruce, And They All Sang Hallelujah, pp. 12, 61, 98-104; Charles A. Johnson, The Frontier Camp Meeting: Religion’s Harvest Time (Dallas: Southern Methodist University, 1955), p. 162; Miyakawa, Protestants and Pioneers, pp. 37, 46. For another challenge to the social control school see Mark Noll, “Protestant Theology and Social Order in Antebellum America,” Religious Studies Review 8:2 (April 1982): 133-42.

24 Lois W. Banner, “Religious Benevolence as Social Control: A Critique of an Interpretation,” Journal of American History 60:1 (June 1973): 27.

25 Ibid, p. 34.

26 Ibid, pp. 29-32.

27 Ibid, p. 41.

28 James H. Moorhead, “Social Reform and the Divided Conscience of Antebellum Protestantism,” Church History 48 (December 1979): 418-424. See also Donald Dayton, Discovering an Evangelical Heritage (Peabody Massachusetts: Hendrickson Publishers, 1992), p. 18; Sidney E. Mead, The Old Religion in the Brave New World: Reflections on the Relation Between Christendom and the Republic (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1977), pp. 53-6.

29 The following have all been republished: Smith, Revivalism and Social Reform; Griffin, Their Brothers’ Keepers; Cole, The Social Ideas of Northern Evangelists; Bodo, The Protestant Clergy and Public Issues.

30 See for example Richard J. Carwardine, Evangelicals and Politics in Antebellum America (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1993); William B. Cooley, “The Second Great Awakening: A Study of Institutional and Ideological Causes,” (Master’s Thesis, California State University-Dominguez Hills, 2000); Michael Lee Dusing, “The Relation of the Second Great Awakening to Social Reform Movements in America,” (Master’s Thesis, Columbia Theological Seminary, 1990).

31 See Paul E. Johnson, A Shopkeeper’s Millennium: Society and Revivals in Rochester, New York, 1815- 1837 (New York: Hill and Wang, 1978).

32 Donald Mathews, “The Second Great Awakening as an Organizing Process, 1780-1830: A Hypothesis,” American Quarterly 21 (Spring 1969): 26.

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33 Ibid, pp. 32-6.

34 For examples of the most enduring works that have suggested such an interpretation see Johnson, A Shopkeeper’s Millennium; Whitney Cross, The Burned Over District: The Social and Intellectual History of Enthusiastic Religion in Western New York, 1800-1850 (New York: Harper and Row, 1950).

35 Bilhartz argued against the “demand side” interpretation of the awakening which held that it was revivals were a response to social conditions. He effectively argued his “supply side” interpretation showing the revivals came to those who planned them effectively. See Bilhartz, Urban Religion and the Second Great Awakening. Ellen Eslinger adds weight to this argument by pointing out that the initial revivals in Kentucky occurred after the state became much more stable than it had been when on the periphery of the frontier. See Ellen Eslinger, Citizens of Zion: The Social Origins of Camp Meeting Revivalism (Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press, 1999). Curtis Johnson’s study on demand side vs. supply side revivalism suggests that both arguments are valid. Through social science methods, he discovered that in New York revivals came to those who had planned for them and to areas where certain economic and demographic conditions made people more open to the message. See Curtis D. Johnson, “Supply-side and Demand-side Revivalism?: Evaluating the Social Influences on New York State Evangelism in the 1830s,” Social Science History 19:1 (1995): 1-30.

36 Nathan O. Hatch, “The Democratization of Christianity and the Character of American Politics,” in Religion and American Politics: From the Colonial Period to the 1980s, ed. Mark A. Noll (New York: Oxford University Press, 1990), pp. 92-9.

37 Ibid, p. 102.

38 Daniel Dupre, “Barbecues and Pledges: Electioneering and the Rise of Democratic Politics in Antebellum Alabama,” Journal of Southern History 60:3 (August 1994): 484, 492, 499.

39 Ronald P. Formisano, The Transformation of Political Culture: Massachusetts Parties, 1790s-1840s (New York: Oxford University Press, 1983), pp. 85-6.

40 Lawrence Frederick Kohl, The Politics of Individualism: Parties and the American Character in the Jackson Era (New York: Oxford University Press, 1989), pp. 70-7, 97; David Walker Howe, The Political Culture of American Whigs (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1979), pp. 30-6, 101; “The Evangelical Movement and Political Culture in the North During the Second Party System,” Journal of American History 77:4 (March 1991): 1220.

41 John M. McFaul, “Expediency vs. Morality: Jacksonian Politics and Slavery,” Journal of American History 62:1 (June 1975): 38.

42 See Kohl, The Politics of Individualism, pp. 21-59.

43 See Arthur Schlesinger, The Age of Jackson (Boston: Little, Brown and Company, 1945); Lee Benson, The Concept of Jacksonian Democracy: New York as a Test Case (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1960); Formisano, The Transformation of Political Culture.

44 For the challenge to the “ethnocultural school” see Richard L. McCormick, The Party Period and Public Policy: American Politics from the Age of Jackson to the Progressive Era (New York: Oxford University Press, 1986), pp. 32-54; Richard B. Latner and Peter Levine, “Perspectives on Antebellum Pietistic Politics,” Reviews in American History 4:1 (March 1976): 15-24. For a defense of Benson and company see Ronald P. Formisano, “The Invention of the Ethnocultural Interpretation,” American Historical Association 99:2 (April 1994): 453-77.

45 For an excellent summary of this historiography see William G. Shade, “Politics and Parties in Jacksonian America,” Pennsylvania Magazine of History and Biography 110:4 (October 1986): 483-507.

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Examples of class based interpretations would include Sean Wilentz, Chants Democratic: New York City and the Rise of the American Working Class, 1788-1850 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1984) and Charles Sellers, The Market Revolution: Jacksonian America, 1815-1846 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1991).

46 Charles G. Finney, Victory Over the World: Revival Messages (Grand Rapids, : Kregel Publications, 1975), pp. 11-2.

47 Charles G. Finney, “Sermon XII: Love of the World,” in Sermons on Important Subjects (New York: John S. Taylor, 1836), pp. 257, 258, 263, 268.

48 Ibid, pp. 259-65.

49 William B. Sprague, Lectures on Revivals of Religion (Albany, New York: Webster and Skinners, O. Steele and W.C. Little, 1832), pp. 64-5.

50 Christian Advocate 1:1 (September 9, 1826): 2.

51 James B. Finley, Autobiography of Rev. James B. Finely; or, a Pioneer Life in the West, 2nd ed. Edited by W.P. Strickland (Cincinnati: R.P. Thompson, 1865), p. 337.

52 Christian Advocate 1:2 (September 16, 1826): 1; Donald Dayton, Discovering an Evangelical Heritage (Peabody, Massachusetts: Hendrickson, 1976), p. 123-4.

53 Peter Cartwright, Autobiography of Peter Cartwright: The Backwoods Preacher, ed. W.P. Strickland (Cincinnati: Cranston and Curts, 1856), pp. 74-5, 3-8.

54 Ibid, p. 524.

55 It should be noted that Cartwright’s active participation in politics and pursuit of political office were not typical sectarian traits, but his concern about the church’s increasing wealth and institutionalization were.

56 Finley, Autobiography, pp. 250-1.

57 Ibid, p. 171.

58 Ibid, p. 158.

59 Francis Wayland, Limitations of Human Responsibility (Boston: Gould, Kendell and Lincoln, 1838), p. 92.

60 Ibid, pp. 93-4.

61 Ibid, pp. 98-101, 111.

62 Ibid, pp. 104, 114.

63 Calvin Colton, Protestant Jesuitism (New York: Harper Brothers, 1836), pp. 13-23, 28-30, 68.

64 Ibid, pp. v, 117-35. See also The Reformer 3:29 (1822): 93. The Reformer was an evangelical journal published in Philadelphia which declared itself to be the voice of no particular sect or party.

65 Colton, Protestant Jesuitism, pp. 114, 145, 105-6.

66 Ibid, pp. 50-89.

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67 For a liturgical critique of revivalism see John W. Nevin, The Anxious Bench (Chambersburg, Pennsylvania: Weekly Messenger, 1843).

68 Calvin Colton, History and Character of American Revivals of Religion (London: Frederick Westley and A.H. Davis, 1832), pp. 2-6, 260-8; Sprague, Revivals of Religion, pp. 27-59, 118-46, 204.

69 See Lyman Beecher, “The Remedy for Dueling,” in Lyman Beecher and the Reform of Society: Four Sermons (New York: Arno Press, 1972), pp. 5-44. Here Beecher urges Christians to withhold their votes from duelers applying public pressure to end the sinful practice. See also “The Christian Citizen,” in The Christian Examiner and General Review 25 (July 1839): 290-5.

70 Fraser, Pedagogue for God’s Kingdom, p. 41; The Reformer 4:38 (1823): 36.

71 While there is no shortage of evidence in evangelical journals to support this claim, Beecher’s early sermons in support of social reform societies are noteworthy. See “The Practicality of Suppressing Vice by Means of Societies Instituted for that Purpose,” and “Six Sermons on the Nature, Occasions, Signs, Evils and Remedy of Intemperance,” in Lyman Beecher and the Reform of Society, pp. 5-107.

72 See The Reformer 1:7 (1820): 145.

73 Ellen Eslinger, “Antebellum Liquor Reform in Lexington, Virginia: The Story of a Small Southern Town,” Virginia Magazine of History and Biography 99:2 (April 1991): 163-186; The Reformer 2:23 (1821): 241, 257.

74 Lyman Beecher, Plea for the West, 2nd ed. (Cincinnati: Truman and Smith, 1835), pp. 13-41.

75 The Reformer 1:11 (1820): 25; 2:23 (1821): 243, 257, 270-6.

Chapter Two: The Christians and Disciples

1 A note of clarification should accompany the use of these names. The churches associated with Alexander Campbell were originally called “Reformed Baptists,” or “Campbellites,” by their detractors. As they gradually became a body separate from Baptist circles they took the name “Disciples of Christ.” Barton Stone’s followers called themselves “Christians” after their break from Presbyterianism. After the union of these two groups the names “Disciples of Christ,” “Christian Church,” and “Churches of Christ” were often used interchangeably to classify them although they are now used by separate bodies. Because the scope of this monograph falls chronologically within that earlier period, I have chosen to use the terms interchangeably to describe one body of believers except where only the Campbell or Stone wing are the subject. I have also used interchangeably the two names most often used for their movement as a whole, the “Restoration Movement,” or the “Stone-Campbell Movement.”

2 Rick D. Williams, “Creating an American Faith: Restorationists and the Reformation of the Early Republic,” (Masters Thesis, Illinois State University, 1994), p. 133.

3 C. Leonard Allen and Richard T. Hughes, Discovering Our Roots: The Ancestry of Churches of Christ, (Abilene, Texas: Abilene Christian University Press, 1988), p. 2; Nathan Hatch also commented on the Christian Movement’s radical disconnection with the past in his “The Christian Movement and the Demand for a Theology of the People,” Journal of American History 67:3 (December 1980): 557. 4 This phrase is taken from a series of articles within Alexander Campbell’s Christian Baptist published from 1823 to 1830.

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5 For the connection between Awakenings and the Restoration Movement see Max Ward Randall, The Great Awakenings and the Restoration Movement (Joplin, Missouri: College Press, 1983).

6 For the classic description of the church-sect types see Ernst Troeltsch, The Social Teaching of the Christian Churches, Vol. I, (New York: Macmillan, 1931), pp. 331-43.

7 Richard M. Tristano, The Origins of the Restoration Movement: An Intellectual History (Atlanta: Glenmary Research Center, 1988), p. 116.

8 William Marvin Moorhouse, “The Restoration Movement: The Rhetoric of Jacksonian in a Frontier Religion” (Ph.D. diss., Indiana University, 1967), pp. 13, 17.

9 William Garrett West, Barton Warren Stone: Early American Advocate of Christian Unity (Nashville: Disciples of Christ Historical Society, 1954), p.1.

10 James M. Mathes, ed., The Works of Elder Barton W. Stone, 2nd ed. (Cincinnati: Moore, Wilstach, Keys and Company, 1859), p.10.

11 West, Barton Warren Stone, p. 3.

12 Mathes, ed., The Works of Elder Barton W. Stone, p. 14.

13 West, Barton Warren Stone, pp. 10-6.

14 Mathes, ed., The Works of Elder Barton W. Stone, p. 17. Paul Conkin points out that Stone’s retelling of this supposed qualified acceptance of the Westminster Confession was not remembered by the Presbytery granting his ordination. See his Cane Ridge: American Pentecost (Madison: University of Wisconsin, 1990), p. 75.

15 West, Barton Warren Stone, pp. 24-28. Ellen Eslinger, Citizens of Zion: The Social Origins of Camp Meeting Revivalism (Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press, 1999), pp. 170-1.

16 John B. Boles, The Great Revival, 1787-1805: The Origins of the Southern Evangelical Mind (Lexington: University of Kentucky Press, 1972), p. 52; Max Ward Randall, The Great Awakenings and the Restoration Movement (Joplin, Missouri: College Press, 1983), p.49.

17 Conkin, Cane Ridge: American Pentecost, p. 73. Boles, The Great Revival, 1787-1805, pp. 55-64.

18 Paul Conkin suggests that the traditional estimate that 20,000 people attended is an exaggeration. Actual numbers there, he points out, are difficult to know with any certainty since so many people witnessed or participated in the revivals briefly and left while newcomers continued to show up. Numbers of converts are equally suspect since no clear definition of what constituted conversion was established. See Conkin’s Cane Ridge: American Pentecost, p. 87-95.

19 Richard McNemar, a participating minister whose writings serve as one of the main sources for our historical knowledge of this revival, saw the conversion of skeptics as further proof that the revival was from God. See McNemar’s The Kentucky Revival: A Short History of the Late Extraordinary Outpouring of the Spirit of God in the Western States of America (New York: Edward O. Jenkins, 1846), p. 28.

20 Influenced by the Turner thesis, most early scholars attributed the Cane Ridge enthusiasm to the wild nature of the American frontier. See Catherine Cleveland, The Great Revival in the West, 1797-1805 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1916) and Charles A. Johnson, The Frontier Camp Meeting: Religion’s Harvest Time (Dallas: Southern Methodist University Press, 1955). More recently some have shown that Cane Ridge type revivals were not an American innovation at all, but a tradition within Scottish Presbyterianism. See Conkin’s Cane Ridge: American Pentecost and Leigh Eric Schmidt, Holy Fairs:

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Scottish Communions and American Revivals in the Early Modern Period (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1989). Ellen Eslinger further challenges the frontier thesis by arguing that Kentucky was relatively settled by the time of the Cane Ridge revival in comparison to its earlier frontier stage. Further, she suggests that it was the anxiety and uncertainty fostered by controversies over land titles, not simple poverty and deprivation, that made Kentucky especially susceptible to religious enthusiasm. See Ellen Eslinger, Citizens of Zion: The Social Origins of Camp Meeting Revivalism (Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press, 1999). Other scholars, like John Boles, have placed the Cane Ridge revival in a larger context of intellectual and cultural development. For him, it was a primary shaper of the southern evangelical mindset. See Boles, The Great Revival, 1787-1805, 1972.

21 D. Newell Williams, “Barton W. Stone’s Revivalist Theology,” in Cane Ridge in Context: Perspectives on Barton W. Stone and the Revival, ed. Anthony L. Dunnavant (Nashville: Disciples of Christ Historical Society, 1992), p. 77.

22 Ibid, pp. 77 - 80.

23 John Opie, “James McGready: Theologian of Frontier Revivalism,” Church History 34:4 (December 1969): p. 451; West, Barton Warren Stone, pp. 34-7, 40.

24 Randall, The Great Awakenings and the Restoration Movement, p. 51.

25 West, Barton Warren Stone, p. 181.

26 Williams, “Barton W. Stone’s Revivalist Theology,” pp. 54-8.

27 Ibid, pp. 69-70.

28 Ronald Byers correctly points out that the Springfield Presbytery was created because of an argument over church government, not in an effort to launch a Christian unity movement, a goal they would later articulate. See Byers “Cane Ridge from a Presbyterian Point of View” in Cane Ridge in Context: Perspectives on Barton W. Stone and the Revival, ed. Dunnavant (Nashville: Disciples of Christ Historical Society, 1992), p. 98.

29 McNemar, The Kentucky Revival, p.141.

30 Rice Haggard is widely credited for suggesting the name “Christian” to the ministers of the Springfield Presbytery. Although he was not a member of the Springfield Presbytery, as a witness to their proceedings, his influence was strong especially since he had been among James O’Kelly’s Republican Methodists suggesting the same non-denominational name. See Randall, The Great Awakenings and the Restoration Movement, pp. 72-6.

31 Mathes, ed., The Works of Elder Barton W. Stone, pp.23-4.

32 Ibid, p. 24.

33 Leroy Garrett, The Stone-Campbell Movement: An Anecdotal History of Three Churches (Joplin, Missouri: College Press, 1981), p. 116.

34 Byers, “Cane Ridge from a Presbyterian Point of View,” p. 102.

35 Ibid, p. 103. In the same volume C. Leonard Allen points out that freedom among the Stoneites was turned to restriction once they believed the ancient order had been restored. See C. Leonard Allen, “The Stone the Builders Rejected”: Barton W. Stone in the Memory of Churches of Christ,” in Cane Ridge in Context, ed. Dunnavant, p. 46.

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36 In 1733 a group of ministers led by Alexander Erskine seceded from the Church of Scotland insisting of the right to choose their own ministers. These Seceders were then subdivided in 1747 over the question of whether or not town burgesses should be required to take oaths to support “the religion presently professed within the realm.” Those opposing the oaths were called Anti-Burgher Seceders. Both this party and the Burgher Seceders were divided further in the 1790s and early 1800s into Old Lights and New Lights over the question of civil magistrates power in religion. Because this division was more clear in Scotland than in Ireland, it is unclear which side Thomas Campbell supported. The fact that his theological mentor, Archibald Bruce, was the leading Old Light Anti-burgher Seceder, and Thomas Campbell’s own aversion to civil authorities in church matters suggests that he was of the same mind. See Harold L. Lunger, The Political Ethics of Alexander Campbell (St. Louis: Bethany Press, 1954), pp. 20-6. Lester McAllister, Thomas Campbell: Man of the Book (St. Louis: Bethany Press, 1954), pp. 45-6. Robert Richardson, Memoirs of Alexander Campbell (Indianapolis: Religious Book Service, 1897), pp. 53-8. For an opposing view which portrays the Campbells as opponents of the Anglican establishment, not of all civil authorities in religious matters see Keith Brian Huey, Alexander Campbell’s Church - State Separation as a Defining and Limiting Factor in his Anti-Catholic Activity (Ph. D. diss., Marquette University, 2000), pp. 36-58.

37 McAllister, Thomas Campbell, pp. 24-30. The significance of Scottish Common Sense philosophy upon the restoration Thomas Campbell and other leaders of the Restoration Movement is hard to over emphasize. Thomas Reid insisted that with correct methods of perception and reasoning all individuals could accurately ascertain truth. This principle describes the way in which restorationists, especially the Campbells, approached the scriptures. They held that everyone would come to the same conclusions about the Bible’s teachings if they simply applied correct logic and methods of study.

38 Richardson, Memoirs of Alexander Campbell, pp. 41-5.

39 Richardson, Memoirs of Alexander Campbell, pp. 57-8; McAllister, Thomas Campbell, p. 15.

40 Richardson, Memoirs of Alexander Campbell, p. 35; McAllister, Thomas Campbell, p. 34.

41 McAllister, Thomas Campbell, pp. 56-67.

42 Richardson, Memoirs of Alexander Campbell, p. 114.

43 Ibid, pp. 176-94.

44 McAllister, Thomas Campbell, p. 62.

45 McAllister, Thomas Campbell, pp. 74, 94; William Mervin Moorhouse, “The Restoration Movement,” p. 5.

46 Richard T. Hughes and R. L. Roberts, The Churches of Christ (Westport, Connecticut: Greenwood Press, 2001), p. 192.

47 McAllister, Thomas Campbell, p. 15.

48 Richardson, Memoirs of Alexander Campbell, p. 242; McAllister, Thomas Campbell, pp. 107-8.

49 Richardson, Memoirs of Alexander Campbell, p. 242.

50 Richardson, Memoirs of Alexander Campbell, p. 246; McAllister, Thomas Campbell, p. 101.

51 Tristano, The Origins of the Restoration Movement, p. 27.

52 On balancing the goals of purity and unity within the movement, Richard Tristano argues that Alexander Campbell chose the former. See Tristano, The Origins of the Restoration Movement, p. 83-4.

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53 McAllister, Thomas Campbell, pp. 152-3.

54 Ibid, p. 153.

55 Richardson, Memoirs of Alexander Campbell, p. 373; See also McAllister, Thomas Campbell, pp. 154-5.

56 Louis and Beth White Cochran, Captives of the Word (Garden City, New York: Doubleday, 1969), p. 12; McAllister, Thomas Campbell, p. 156.

57 McAllister, Thomas Campbell, p. 167.

58 Tristano makes an interesting observation about Alexander Campbell’s views on baptism. Campbell was in agreement with Baptists on the form and objects of baptism, but his views on the purpose of baptism, the forgiveness of sin and addition to the church, was more in line with the Catholic Church’s view. This is particularly ironic considering his reputation as an anti-Catholic minister. See Tristano, The Origins of the Restoration Movement, p. 91.

59 Garrett, The Stone-Campbell Movement, p. 182.

60 McAllister, Thomas Campbell, p. 169.

61 Garrett, The Stone-Campbell Movement, pp. 184-5.

62 Ibid, p. 186.

63 Alexander Campbell, “Sermon on the Law,” in Millennial Harbinger 3rd series, III (1846): pp. 493-521.

64 Richardson, Memoirs of Alexander Campbell, vol. 2, p. 90.

65 Garrett, The Stone-Campbell Movement, pp. 189-97.

66 The more popular five step formula for contemporary Christians is hear, believe, repent, confess, and be baptized. Conkin, Cane Ridge, p. 24.

67 Scott’s simple rationalistic style has been said to have been ideal for Jacksonian America. See Moorhouse, “The Restoration Movement,” pp. 126-131. For a more comprehensive detailing of Scott’s preaching style and success see Amos S. Hayden, Early History of the Disciples in the Western Reserve, Ohio (New York: Arno Press 1972).

68 Garrett, The Stone-Campbell Movement, pp. 222-30.

69 Ibid, p. 226.

70 Cochran, Captives of the Word, p. 42.

71 Hughes, Reviving the Ancient Faith, p. 24.

72 Ibid, p. 23-4, 32-40.

73 Tristano, The Origins of the Restoration Movement, p. 115.

74 David E. Harrell, Quest for a Christian America: The Disciples of Christ and American Society to 1866 (Nashville: Disciples of Christ Historical Society, 1966) pp. 62-3.

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75 W.G. West, Barton Warren Stone, p. 134.

76 5 (1831): p. 167.

77 Millennial Harbinger 10 (1839): p. 33; West, Barton Warren Stone, p. 152.

78 Hayden, Early History of the Disciples in the Western Reserve, Ohio, p. 147; Randall, The Great Awakenings and the Restoration Movement, p. 363. It should also be noted that Campbell’s cautiousness was unwarranted since Scott was a thoroughly rationalistic preacher, not one given to emotionalism. See Moorhouse, “The Restoration Movement,” p. 122.

79 West, Barton Warren Stone, p. 181.

80 Campbell’s understanding of the atonement was essentially Calvinistic. He believed that God’s holiness required a perfect blood sacrifice to erase the sins of the world. Thus, Jesus’ death was an appeasement of God’s wrath. Stone, however, believed Jesus’ death was more an expression of God’s love used to inspire people to leave sinful ways and accept Christ. Stone had clearly moved farther from Calvinism than Campbell. See West, Barton Warren Stone, pp. 82-3, 157-62. For a complete explanation of Stone’s theology see Williams, “Barton W. Stone’s Revivalist Theology,” pp. 73-87. Their debate over the best name for their fellowship similarly revealed their doctrinal and theological stances. Stone favored the name “Christian” the most common name given to followers of Christ. This he hoped would encourage unity and the abandonment of denominational names. In order to avoid confusion with those calling themselves simply “Christians” in New England (The Christian Connection) Campbell favored the name “Disciples of Christ.” Besides, as he pointed out, this was the more primitive of the titles used for Christ’s followers having it origins in Jerusalem before people were first called Christians at Antioch. West, Barton Warren Stone, pp. 153-5.

81 Hughes, Reviving the Ancient Faith, p. 29.

82 Ibid, pp. 92-5.

83 Allen, “The Stone the Builders Rejected,” p. 67.

84 Ibid, pp. 63-4; West, Barton Warren Stone, pp. 110, 126-7, 145, 166.

85 West, Barton Warren Stone, pp. 177, 113.

86 Allen, “The Stone the Builders Rejected,” pp. 52-3. Leonard Allen explains that Churches of Christ held to Stone’s worldview and Campbell’s primitivism while the Disciples of Christ carried on Stone’s plea for unity and Campbell’s optimism about America’s future. After the First World War, Stone’s anti-political tradition was difficult to find in either religious body. See Hughes, Reviving the Ancient Faith, pp. 133-4.

87 David E. Harrell, “The Sectional Origins of the Churches of Christ,” Journal of Southern History 30 (August 1964): pp. 264-71. Harrell maintains that geographical and economic differences were at the heart of the split that had occurred unofficially around the time of the Civil War. The predominantly southern Churches of Christ opposed the use of missionary societies and instrumental music among the northern Disciples, two issues related to economics as well as doctrine.

88 Nathan Hatch, “The Christian Movement and the Demand for a Theology of the People,” Journal of American History 67:3 (December 1980): 558-9.

89 Ibid, p. 548.

90 Williams, “Creating an American Faith,” pp. 138-9.

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91 Stone, “Partyism and Party Names,” in The Works of Elder Barton W. Stone, ed. Mathes, p. 157.

92 Christian Messenger 4 (1832): 7.

93 Lunger, The Political Ethics of Alexander Campbell, p. 11.

94 Whigs derided Andrew Jackson for being controlled by passions, or rather being unable to restrain his animal instincts. Wedding a married woman, killing a man in a duel and having British officers in Florida executed were just some of the examples Whigs pointed toward to suggest that Jackson was unfit for public office. His rowdy supporters attending his inaugural, Whigs lamented, also seemed to be controlled by passions, not restrained by reason. Jackson’s supporters praised him for his decisiveness and genuine exhibition of emotions, but neither Whigs in general, nor Campbell specifically, could abide what they perceived to be a lack of rationality.

95 Lunger, The Political Ethics of Alexander Campbell, pp. 137-149.

96 Christian Messenger 12 (1841): 202.

97 Allen, “The Stone the Builders Rejected,” p. 45; Hughes, Reviving the Ancient Faith, pp. 110-113.

98 Christian Messenger 12 (1841): 202.

99 Ibid, p. 203.

100 Ibid, p. 204; Christian Messenger 14 (1844): 170.

101 Christian Messenger 14 (1844): 168.

102 Christian Messenger 13 (1843): 126; Harrell, Quest for a Christian America, p. 55.

103 Harrell, Quest for a Christian America, p. 55.

104 Ibid, p. 55.

105 Conkin, Cane Ridge, p. 103. It should be noted that David Purviance did not support the Stone- Campbell union because he feared immersion for the forgiveness of sins would become a test a fellowship.

106 Allen, “The Stone the Builders Rejected,” p. 53.

107 Harrell, Quest for a Christian America, p. 54.

108 Lunger, The Political Ethics of Alexander Campbell, p. 56.

109 Lunger, The Political Ethics of Alexander Campbell, p. 57-8. Millennial Harbinger 10 (1839): 575.

110 Lunger, The Political Ethics of Alexander Campbell, p. 60; Millennial Harbinger 2 (1831): 179; Harrell, Quest for a Christian America, p. 56.

111 Lunger, The Political Ethics of Alexander Campbell, p.62.

112 Ibid, pp. 51-2.

113 Ibid, p. 156; Huey, Alexander Campbell’s Church - State Separation, p. 123,130.

114 Lunger, The Political Ethics of Alexander Campbell, p. 51.

207

115 Lunger, The Political Ethics of Alexander Campbell, p. 38; Huey, Alexander Campbell’s Church - State Separation, pp. 82-83.

116 Lunger, The Political Ethics of Alexander Campbell, p. 78.

117 Ibid, p. 77.

118 Ibid, p. 14, 54, 116, 265.

119 Huey, Alexander Campbell’s Church - State Separation, p. 97.

120 Ibid, p. 8.

121 Ibid, p. 1, 123, 130.

122 Ibid, p. 20.

123 Ibid, p. 5.

124 Millennial Harbinger 8 (1837): 273.

125 Ibid, pp. 411-4, 506-8, 561-7.

126 For Stone’s support of Lyman Beecher’s call for Christian union see Richard L. Harrison, “Is Barton Our Cornerstone,” in Cane Ridge in Context, ed. Dunnavant, p. 67.

127 Christian Messenger 2 (1827): 171.

128 Ibid, pp. 45-6.

129 Ibid, p. 29.

130 Ibid, p. 169.

131 Christian Messenger 4 (1829): 249-50.

132 Ibid, pp. 57-63.

133 Harrell, Quest for a Christian America, pp. 97-9; Christian Messenger 5 (1831): 11.

134 Harrell, Quest for a Christian America, p. 103; Lunger, The Political Ethics of Alexander Campbell, pp. 193-6.

135 Lunger, The Political Ethics of Alexander Campbell, pp. 200-30.

136 Christian Baptist 1 (1823): 216-21.

137 Ibid, pp. 156-8.

138 Ibid, pp. 33-4.

139 Ibid, pp. 100-2.

140 Ibid, pp. 127-33.

208

141 Christian Baptist 4 (1826): 536-8.

142 Huey, Alexander Campbell’s Church - State Separation, p. 21.

143 Millennial Harbinger 7 (1836): 185-6.

144 Millennial Harbinger 13 (1842): 315-6.

145 Millennial Harbinger 17 (1846): 56-8, 296.

146 Christian Baptist 1 (1823): 220.

147 Ibid, pp. 47-9.

148 Millennial Harbinger 6 (1835): 388.

149 Millennial Harbinger 17 (1846): 564.

150 West, Barton Warren Stone, pp. 133-4; Allen, “The Stone the Builders Rejected,” p. 51.

151 Christian Messenger 14 (1844): 328-330.

152 Christian Messenger 13 (1843): 48-51.

153 Harrell, Quest for a Christian America, p. 93.

154 Christian Messenger 12 (1841): 148-9.

155 Harrell, Quest for a Christian America, pp. 62-3.

156 Lunger, The Political Ethics of Alexander Campbell, pp. 179-80, 183. Lunger mentions that Campbell was among the first to import Merino sheep, an improved breed.

157 Millennial Harbinger 14 (1843): 254-5.

158 Both Acts 2:44, 45 and Acts 4:32 refer to this community sharing their possessions communally. Interestingly, the earlier passage just follows one of Campbell’s key passages (Acts 2:38) where baptism for the remission of sins is described.

159 Millennial Harbinger 3 (1832): 187; Lunger, The Political Ethics of Alexander Campbell, pp.180-1; Hayden, Early History of the Disciples in the Western Reserve, Ohio, pp. 209, 298-9.

160 Harrell, Quest for a Christian America, pp. 8, 93.

161 Ibid, pp. 67-8, 78.

Chapter Three: The Millerites

1 James D. Bratt, “The Reorientation of American Protestantistm, 1835-1845,” Church History 67:1 (1998): 52-5.

2 For a defense against the charge that Millerism caused lunacy see Francis D. Nichol, The Midnight Cry: A

209

Defense of the Character and Conduct of William Miller and the Millerites, Who Mistakenly Believed that the Second Coming of Christ Would Take Place in the Year 1844 (Tacoma Park, Washington: Review and Herald Publishing, 1944), pp. 339-348.

3 Rumors of Millerites fashioning special white ascension robes were common in the secular and religious press. Millerites, however, denied all such rumors. Their journals never suggested wearing any special such garment. See Nichol, The Midnight Cry, pp. 371-426 for a Millerite defense against this alleged practice.

4 Nichol, The Midnight Cry, p. 131.

5 See Clara Endicott Sears, Days of Delustion: A Stronge Bit of History (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1924) for an entertaining, but scholarly unsound description of the Millerites based largely upon the memory of some who remembered hearing about the adventist crisis. The defense was offered by Francis D. Nichol, The Midnight Cry. In this work, Nichol, a Seventh Day Adventist, admitted the problem of objectivity then proceeded to write as much a defense as a history of the movement. See also Ronald L. Numbers and Jonathan M. Butler, eds., The Disappointed: Millerism and Millennialism in the Nineteenth Century (Bloomington, Indiana: University of Indiana Press, 1987) and Everett N. Dick, William Miller and the Advent Crisis (Berrien Springs, Michigan: Andrews University Press, 1994). Their introductory essays provide useful historiographical information.

6 David L. Rowe, “Millerites: A Shadow Portrait,” in The Disappointed, eds., Numbers and Butler, pp. 9- 12.

7 Rowe uses the term “sectarian” to mean a small, exclusive religious group with little cultural impact. By this connotation I agree with Rowe although I argue that Millerites were “sectarian” in the Troeltschian sense. See his Thunder and Trumpets: Millerites and Dissenting Religion in Upstate New York, 1800-1850 (Chico, California: Scholars Press, 1985).

8 Numbers and Butler, eds., The Disappointed, p. xviii.

9 Ruth Alden Doan, The Miller Heresy, Millennialism, and American Culture (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1987), pp.180-2.

10 Ibid, pp. ix, 3.

11 Ibid, p. 87.

12 Ruth Alden Doan, “Millerism and Evangelical Culture,” in The Disappointed, eds. Numbers and Butler, p. 130.

13 Doan, The Miller Heresy, p. 48.

14 Like David Rowe, I have chosen not to capitalize “adventist” when it refers to Millerites because the term did not designate a denomination until after 1844. See footnote in Rowe, Thunder and Trumpets, p. ix.

15 Eric Anderson, “The Millerite Use of Prophecy: A Case Study of ‘Striking Fulfillment’” in The Disappointed, eds. Numbers and Butler, p. 89. In this essay Eric Anderson makes this point abundantly clear as he emphasizes the significance of specific timing in Millerite prophesy.

16 Bratt, “The Reorientation of American Protestantism,” p. 70.

17 Although Miller became an ordained Baptist minister before he was widely known as an Adventist lecturer, his ordination required no formal training.

210

18 Joshua V. Himes, Views of the Prophecies and Prophetic Chronology selected from manuscripts of William Miller with a Memoir of His Life (Boston: Joshua V. Himes, 1842), p. 183. John Dowling. D.D. was a New York Baptist minister critical of Miller’s pre-millennialism.

19 Himes, Views, pp. 184-186; William Miller, Evidence from Scripture and History of the Second Coming of Christ About the Year 1843 Exhibited in a Course of Lectures (Troy, New York: Kemble and Hooper, 1838), p. 257.

20 Wayne R. Judd, “From Ecumenists to Come-Outers: the Millerites 1831-1843,” Adventist Heritage 11:1 (1986): 6-8.

21 Miller, Evidence, pp. 247-50.

22 Richard Carwardine says that the second awakening peaked in its adventist phase. See his Trans-Atlantic Revivalism: Popular Evangelicalism in Britain and America, 1790-1865 (Westport, Connecticut: Greenwood Press, 1978), p. 52.

23 Milton L. Perry, “The Role of the Camp Meeting in Millerite Revivalism, 1842-1844,” (Ph.D. diss., Baylor University, 1994), p. 34.

24 Sylvester Bliss, Memoir of William Miller (Boston: Joshua V. Himes, 1853), pp. 1-16.

25 Ibid, pp. 17-24; Nichol, The Midnight Cry, pp. 20-3.

26 Bliss, Memoir of William Miller, pp. 50, 59-61.

27 Wayne R. Judd, “William Miller: Disappointed Prophet,” in The Disappointed, eds., Numbers and Butler, pp. 18, 19.

28 Bliss, Memoir of William Miller, pp. 63-70.

29 For Miller’s rules of interpretation see Himes, Views, pp. 20-30; Judd, “William Miller: Disappointed Prophet,” p. 20.

30 Nichol, The Midnight Cry, p. 31.

31 Bliss, Memoir of William Miller, p. 77.

32 George Knight points out that biblical literalism and rationalism like Miller’s were both part of the intellectual environment. See his Millennial Fever and the End of the World: A Study of Millerite Adventism (Boise, Idaho: Pacific Press, 1993), p. 39.

33 While Miller was in most senses a biblical literalist, he did at times choose figurative or symbolic interpretations. David Rowe points out that Miller dismissed the belief that the Jews literally had to return to Israel before the millennium could commence favoring instead the symbolic interpretation that Christians were now the seed of Abraham. See Rowe, Thunder and Trumpets, p. 98.

34 The seventh chapter of Ezra describes the decree to rebuild Jerusalem issued by Artaxerxes in his seventh year as king. Miller accepted the widely held notion that this was in 457BC.

35 For Miller, the “time, times and half a time” represented three and a half prophetic years. Translating those years into 42 months of 30 days each, Miller believed this period represented 1260 actual years. Miller felt sure that Papal Rome’s civil power had lasted from 538 to 1798. While interpreting days as years was not uncommon, Miller’s manner of converting three and a half years into 42 months and then

211 into 1260 days which represented 1260 years was unusual.

36 Knight, Millennial Fever, p. 36; Bliss, Memoir of William Miller, p. 82.

37 Knight, Millennial Fever, pp. 42-44; Nichol, The Midnight Cry, pp. 41-5.

38 David Rowe points out that Miller’s Dresden sermon did not immediately end his hesitancy to preach. Miller was not an active speaker in 1832, but interest in his published lectures compelled him to proclaim actively. Rowe also notes that Henry Jones, an early convert of Miller’s, also spread the Millerite message early on. See Rowe, Thunder and Trumpets, pp. 17-20.

39 Knight, Millennial Fever, p. 58. Miller was ordained to preach by the Baptist church in 1833, but he did not preach full time until the following year.

40 Knight, Millennial Fever, p. 59.

41 Miller, Evidences was first published in 1833, but was expanded and republished in 1836. Miller’s standard lectures within were often republished, or included in other adventist publications. Bliss, Memoir of William Miller, p. 106.

42 Sears, Days of Delusion, p. 50; Knight, Millennial Fever, p. 141.

43 Knight, Millennial Fever, p.57, 64; Bliss, Memoir of William Miller, pp. 215-6.

44 It should be noted that Miller did not see his message as pessimistic. It was exciting for those sure of their salvation, but terrifying for those unsaved.

45 Knight,. Millennial Fever, p. 63.

46 David Tallmadge Arthur, “Joshua V. Himes and the Cause of Adventism, 1839-1845” (Master’s Thesis, University of Chicago, 1961), pp. 6-20; Numbers, The Disappointed, pp. 37-39.

47 Bliss, Memoir of William Miller, p. 140. Initially, Himes was convinced only of Miller’s pre- millennialism and his assertion that the end was near. He did not accept Miller’s emphasis on 1843 until it was only a year away. See Knight, Millennial Fever, p. 73.

48 Knight, Millennial Fever, pp. 73, 78.

49 Ibid, p. 79-80. Unlike most temporary papers, the Midnight Cry due to its success continued to be published long after the 1842 New York camp meeting it was meant to promote.

50 Ibid, pp. 76-7.

51 Ibid, pp. 81-7.

52 Perry, “The Role of the Camp Meeting in Millerite Revivalism, 1842-1844,” p. 16.

53 Doan, The Miller Heresy, p. 38; Nichol, The Midnight Cry, pp. 94, 101. Henry Dana Ward, for example, never accepted 1843 as the time of the end. George Storrs, similarly, did not believe that sinners would burn in an eternal hell. Instead, he believed that the unsaved would be annihilated with no eternal existence. See also Knight, Millennial Fever, p. 195.

54 Bliss, Memoir of William Miller, pp. 229-234; Knight, Millennial Fever, pp. 171-8.

55 Knight, Millennial Fever, pp. 87-8.

212

56 Perry, “The Role of the Camp Meeting in Millerite Revivalism, 1842-1844,” p. vi.

57 Ibid, p. 88, 97, 120; Nichol, The Midnight Cry, p. 114. Francis Nichol estimates that the Great Tent could hold 4000.

58 Knight, Millennial Fever, pp. 154-155; Nichol, The Midnight Cry, p. 148.

59 Both George Knight and David Rowe acknowledge the inherent separatism in Miller’s theology. See Knight, Millennial Fever, p. 155; Rowe,Thunder and Trumpets, p. 95.

60 Himes, Views, pp. 184, 196.

61 See Anderson, “The Millerite Use of Prophesy,” pp. 78-91.

62 Doan, The Miller Heresy, p. 34.

63 Knight, Millennial Fever, p. 127.

64 Ibid, p. 163. Those now using this calendar expected the advent on April 18 or 19.

65 Ibid, p. 167.

66 Ibid, p. 162.

67 Ibid, p. 163.

68 Typology in Biblical study is the practice of finding parallels between Old and New Testaments symbols. Old Testament types are seen as shadows of New Testament anti-types. For example, the law giver and deliverer Moses is the type for which Jesus is the anti-type. Similarly, the Jewish Day of Atonement could be seen as paralleling the atonement of Judgment Day. This method of biblical study was and is still common among evangelical Christians.

69 Knight, Millennial Fever, p. 189.

70 Ibid, pp. 199-202.

71 Midnight Cry (October 3, 1844): 97-9.

72 Doan, The Miller Heresy, pp. 205-6.

73 This interpretation of the Millerites’ relationship to reform as the expected end approached is quite common. It can be found in Rowe, Thunder and Trumpets, pp. 90-5; Ronald D. Graybill, “The Abolitionist-Millerite Connection” in The Disappointed eds., Numbers and Butler, pp. 139-52. However, other authors have not used this interpretation as a way of broadening the characterization of the Second Great Awakening.

74 Jonathan M. Butler, “The Making of a New Order: Millerism and the Origins of Seventh Day Adventism,” in The Disappointed, eds., Numbers and Butler, p. 194.

75 Miller, Evidence, p. 251.

76 Arthur, “Joshua V. Himes and the Cause of Adventism, 1839-1845,” p. 16.

77 Doan, The Miller Heresy, p. 72.

213

78 Himes, Views, pp. 76, 84.

79 Miller, Evidence, p. 34.

80 N. Gordon Thomas, “The Second Coming: A Major Impulse of American Protestantism,” Adventist Heritage 3:2 (1976): 4.

81 Miller’s understanding of God’s sovereignty working through history was his most Calvinistic trait. His evangelism was not held back by notions of predestination or limited atonement.

82 Signs of the Times (Nov. 1, 1840): 113.

83 Bliss, Memoirs of William Miller, p. 276.

84 Arthur, “Joshua V. Himes and the Cause of Adventism, 1839-1845,” p. 72; Signs of the Times (April 6, 1842): 4.

85 Doan, The Miller Heresy, pp. 147-54.

86 Himes, Views, p. 182.

87 Knight, Millennial Fever, p. 210.

88 Bliss, Memoir of William Miller, p. 182.

89 Himes, Views, p. 56.

90 Knight, Millennial Fever, p. 184.

91 Signs of the Times (July 5, 1843): 143-4; Arthur, “Joshua V. Himes and the Cause of Adventism, 1839- 1845,” p. 102.

92 Himes, Views, p. 99.

93 Ibid, p. 128.

94 Rowe, “Millerites: A Shadow Portrait,” pp. 9-12.

95 Arthur, “Joshua V. Himes and the Cause of Adventism, 1839-1845,” pp. 51-7.

96 Perry, “The Role of the Camp Meeting in Millerite Revivalism, 1842-1844,” pp. 88, 209-11.

97 Just prior to the October disappointment some Millerite leaders, such as Joseph Matsh and George Storrs, encouraged people to give up all their possessions. However, most Millerite leaders never made such a plea. Still they did praise those who sacrificed. See Signs of the Times (September 7, 1842): 178; Knight, Millennial Fever, pp. 206-7.

98 Perry, “The Role of the Camp Meeting in Millerite Revivalism, 1842-1844,” p. 45.

99 Arthur, “Joshua V. Himes and the Cause of Adventism,” p. 52.

100 Western Midnight Cry 2:2 (Dec 16, 1843): 13.

214

101 Midnight Cry (Oct 31, 1844): 140.

102 Arthur, “Joshua V. Himes and the Cause of Adventism, 1839-1845,” p. 154.

103 Himes, Views, p. 102.

104 J. F. C. Harrison, The Second Coming: Popular Millenarianism, 1780-1850 (London: Routledge and Kegal Paul, 1979), p. 202; Knight, Millennial Fever, pp. 107, 193.

105 Perry, “The Role of the Camp Meeting in Millerite Revivalism, 1842-1844,” pp. 199-202.

106 Ruth Doan estimates that half of the Millerite leadership came from abolitionist backgrounds. See Doan, The Miller Heresy, p. 181.

107 Charles Fitch, Slavery Weighed in the Balance of Truth And Its Comparative Guilt Illustrated, (Boston: Isaac Knapp, 1837), pp. 18, 33-4.

108 Graybill, “The Abolitionist-Millerite Connection,” pp. 143-6.

109 Nichol, The Midnight Cry, pp. 54, 176.

110 Miller explained his views on the Sabbath in an essay called “The Great Sabbath.” Here he argued that the Sabbath had always been the seventh day for God and the first day for man, since man had just been created on God’s sixth day. For this reason and because Christ rose on the first day, Miller concluded that Christians were to honor their first day of the week. In this, he agreed with most post-millennialists. He could not, however, agree that Christ would be judging the world after the Great Sabbath. See Himes, Views, pp.158-71.

111 Western Midnight Cry 2:1 (Dec 9, 1843): 4.

112 Graybill, “The Abolitionist-Millerite Connection,” p. 140.

113 Fitch had already broken from William Lloyd Garrison because of the latter’s harsh tone against the clergy. See Fitch’s “Appeal of Clerical Abolitionists on Anti-Slavery Measures” in The Liberator (Boston) August 19, 1837.

114 Doan, The Miller Heresy, p. 185.

115 Graybill, “The Abolitionist-Millerite Connection,” pp. 143, 149-50. Graybill points out that Adventists renewed their interest in reform in the 1860s by embracing health reform. At that time, slavery once again caught their attention. They interpreted it as the thing that would destroy the world.

116 Miller, Evidence, pp. 238-40.

117 Ibid, pp. 248, 250.

118 Ibid, p. 260.

119 Harrison, The Second Coming: Popular Millenarianism, 1780-1850, p. 202

Chapter Four: The Mormons

215

1 Paul Conkin, American Originals: Homemade Varieties of Christianity (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1992), p. 162.

2 Ibid, p. 163.

3 Klaus Hansen acknowledges that Mormon history validates the sect-denomination theory of Ernst Troeltsch. See his Quest for Empire: The Political Kingdom of God and the Council of 50 in Mormon History (Lincoln: University of Nebraska, 1974), p. 188.

4 See David Brion Davis, “Some Themes of Countersubversion: An Analysis of Anti-Masonic, Anti- Catholic, and Anti-Mormon Literature,” Mississippi Valley Histrorical Review 47 (1960): 205-224.

5 Joseph Smith, Doctrine and Covenants 93:33 (Westport, Connecticut: Greenwood Press, 1971). Elsewhere in Doctrine and Covenants 131 this idea is used to justify eternal marriage. Physical bonds in the flesh are not broken in the spiritual realm.

6 Sterling M. McMurrin, The Theological Foundations of the Mormon Religion (Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press, 1965), pp. 5-8.

7 Several historians have noted Smith’s childhood ties to Second Great Awakening revivalism. Fawn Brodie, No Man Knows My History: The Life of Joseph Smith (New York:Alfred Knopf, 1971), pp. 1-15; Richard Bushman, Joseph Smith and the Beginnings of Mormonism (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1984), p. 6; Robert V. Remini, Joseph Smith (New York: Penguin, 2002), p. 1. Whitney Cross most notably associated the rise of Mormonism with revivalism in New York. See The Burned-Over District: The Social and Intellectual History of Enthusiastic Religion in Western New York, 1800-1850 (New York: Harper and Row, 1950).

8 Lucy Smith, Biographical Sketches of Joseph Smith the Prophet and his Progenitors for many Generations (New York: Arno Press, 1969), p. 37. Since this reflection was written and published after the death of her son, Lucy Smith’s memories of her spiritual struggle were most likely shaped by Joseph’s later denunciation of all denominations.

9 Ibid, pp. 47, 60-66. Again, Lucy Smith’s recollection of events may be questioned. The idea that a pre- teen Joseph could maturely ask his mother to leave the room and refuse to take alcohol to deaden the pain that would accompany having his leg cut into and his boned carved upon seems like religious propaganda. If true, Joseph was extraordinary even as a child.

10 Remini, Joseph Smith, pp. 6, 15-16. Remini emphasizes the prevalence of folk magic in his chapter entitled “The Second Great Awakening” suggesting that it had wider acceptance than historians have previously realized.

11 Lucy Smith, Biographical Sketches, pp. 56-7.

12 Fawn Brodie, No Man Knows My History, pp. 30-32. Remini, Joseph Smith, p. 48-50.

13 One need only compare the work of Fawn Brodie, a former Mormon, to those of practicing Mormon historians to see vastly different interpretations of Smith’s experiences as a treasure seeker. Brodie suggests that Smith learned from his mistakes in his money digging scheme and improved as a con artist. See Brodie, No Man Knows My History, pp. 32-33. The success and canonization of Brodie’s work has inspired frequent commentary from Mormon scholars including an edited book criticizing Brodie’s interpretation. See Newell G. Bringhurst, Reconsidering No Man Knows My History: Fawn Brodie and Joseph Smith in Retrospect, (Logan, Utah: Utah State University Press, 1996). Practicing Mormons like Richard Bushman do not dismiss Smith’s early life, but emphasize that Smith’s dabbling in magic simply made him a man of his times. See Bushman, Joseph Smith and the Beginnings of Mormonism, p. 72.

216

14 Richard L. Bushman, Joseph Smith and the Beginnings of Mormonism, pp. 53-60. There is no written record of this vision older than 1832.

15 Bushman, Joseph Smith and the Beginnings of Mormonism, pp. 61-64, Remini, Joseph Smith, pp. 43-48, Lucy Smith, Biographical Sketches, pp. 79-86.

16 Ibid, pp. 76-80; Brodie, No Man Knows My History, pp. 32-33; Church Educational System, Church History in the Fulness of Times: The History of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints (Salt Lake City: The Church of Jesus Christ of LDS, 1992), pp. 41-44. Official LDS history calls this period a time of preparation arguing that Smith needed four years of refinement to be able to undertake the work he had to do.

17 James B. Allen and Glen M. Leonard, The Story of the Latter Day Saints (Salt Lake City: Deseret Books, 1976), pp. 40-42.

18 Lucy Smith, Biographical Sketches, p. 116.

19 Lucy Smith, Biographical Sketches, pp. 120-122. Bushman, Joseph Smith and the Beginnings of Mormonism, pp. 90-92.

20 Joseph Smith, History of the Church (Salt Lake City: Deseret, 1951), 1:20-28.

21 Ibid, pp. 22-28.

22 Bushman, Joseph Smith and the Beginning of Mormonism, p. 97. Quoted from Messenger and Advocate October 1834.

23 Smith, History of the Church, 1:32-44.

24 Fawn Brodie, No Man Knows My History, p. 62. The 3,700 words per day averaged by Smith and Cowdery, including parts quoted directly from the Bible, are proof to believers that this was not the work of man.

25 Smith, History of the Church, 1:52-60; Bushman, Joseph Smith and the Beginnings of Mormonism, pp. 102-107.

26 Fawn Brodie, No Man Knows My History, p. 77.

27 Paul Conkin, American Originals, p. 167. While Mormons stress this fact to prove the validity of Smith’s work, Conkin points out that the witnesses, possibly conscious of their reputations, had reasons to stick to their story.

28 Bushman, Joseph Smith and the Beginnings of Mormonism, pp. 108-110, 119-125.

29 Ibid, p. 126.

30 Millennial Harbinger 2 (February 1831): 93.

31 Ibid, p. 93. Campbell was especially put off by Smith’s calling the ancient inhabitants of America “Christians” even before Jesus had come. Had they been Christians, in Campbell’s view, they would no longer have been under the Old Law, something to which they still adhered. Campbell also pointed out that under the Mosaic Law, John the Baptist could not have conferred Aaron’s priesthood on anyone, as Smith claimed John had done for Oliver Cowdery and himself, since he was not a Levite.

217

32 Lehi’s prediction and subsequent journey to America were said to have occurred around 600BC. Jerusalem was defeated and the Judeans became captives of the Babylonians in 587BC.

33 Richard Bushman, Joseph Smith and the Beginnings of Mormonism, p. 140. Bushman points out that believers rarely became convinced of the Book of Mormon’s truthfulness after long deliberation. Most who came to believe it did so immediately in response to the working of the spirit. This presents a problem for both the believer and the non-believer. Believers can defend the validity of the Book of Mormon by saying that they know it to be true because the spirit has revealed its truth to them, a difficult proof for non- believers to refute. Mormons, on the other hand, have to account for a seeming contradiction. If belief is usually determined by the intervention of God’s spirit and not by the convincing proof of the text itself, then it would seem saints are chosen by God. The Book of Mormon is clearly against Calvinism, but its reception seems to depend on a certain degree of choseness.

34 A few examples of flights to the wilderness by the faithful can be found in the following Book of Mormon verses: I Nephi 2:4; Mosiah 23:1, 3; Alma 33:19.

35 Smith, History of the Church, 1:79.

36 Ibid, I:35-36; Church Educational System, Church History in the Fulness of Time, p. 71-74; Richard Bushman, Joseph Smith and the Beginnings of Mormonism, pp. 159-162.

37 Smith, History of the Church, 1:104-105; Richard Bushman, Joseph Smith and the Beginnings of Mormonism, p. 166; Robert V. Remini, Joseph Smith, p. 90.

38 Smith, Doctrine and Covenants 28:2.

39 Smith, Doctrine and Covenants 28:8.

40 The elimination of competing visions is among the events in Mormon history upon which believers and unbelievers cannot agree. For unbelievers, this is clear evidence of Smith’s dictatorial motives. For believers, this was simply the command of God to thwart Satan’s scheme of creating division. See the different explanations given by Brodie, No Man Knows My History, pp. 91-2; Bushman, Joseph Smith and the Beginnings of Mormonism, pp. 166-8; James B. Allen and Glen M. Leonard, The Story of the Latter- Day Saints, (Salt Lake City: Deseret, 1976), pp. 50-1.

41 Bushman, Joseph Smith and the Beginnings of Mormonism, p. 153.

42 Ibid, p. 180. Bushman also notes the similarities of these restoration movements.

43 Smith, Doctrine and Covenants 38:32; History of the Church 1:118-125.

44 F. Mark McKierman, The Voice of One Crying in the Wilderness: Sidney Rigdon, Religious Reformer, 1793-1876 (Lawrence, Kansas: Coronado Press, 1971), p. 37. Rumor had it that Ridgon introduced Smith to a novel written by Reverand Solomon Spaulding which was plagiarized to make the Book of Mormon.

45 McKierman, The Voice of One Crying in the Wilderness, pp. 52-55. Booth and Ryder each turned against the prophet for different reasons. Booth resented the supposed despotism of Smith who accepted no other’s revelations. He also found it unfair for Smith and Rigdon to ride in carriages to Missouri while Booth had to walk. Ryder, a former Campbellite minister, had been converted to Mormonism because a young girl correctly predicted the destruction of Peking. He then turned against Mormonism when Smith misspelled his name “Rider” in a revelation. As fairly prominent ministers, these men had at least the potential to disrupt Smith’s movement, especially if Rigdon had joined them. It is noteworthy that Rigdon challenged the apostates to debate. Since this was the common format for discussing doctrinal differences among the Campbellites, Rigdon was drawing on his religious

218 roots. He too was challenged to debate the merits of Mormonism by Thomas Campbell. In that case he refused the invitation.

46 Smith, Book of Mormon, IV Nephi 1:24

47 Smith, Doctrine and Covenants 49:20; 51:3, 9; 70:14; 78:6; 82:17.

48 Smith, Doctrine and Covenants 72.

49 Grant Underwood, The Millennial World of Early Mormonism (Urbana: University of Illinois Press 1993), pp. 24-29.

50 Thomas F. O’Dea, The Mormons (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1957), pp. 90, 117, 135. O’Dea appropriately emphasizes the concept of the gathering among Mormons, a concept oft taught in Mormon scriptures.

51 Smith, Doctrine and Covenants 52

52 Smith, History of the Church, 1:188-202; Church Education System, Church History in the Fulness of Time, pp. 102-111.

53 Brodie, No Man Knows My History, p. 120.

54 Ibid, pp. 130-137; Church Education System, Church History in the Fulness of Time, pp. 130-139; Allen and Leonard, The Story of the Latter-Day Saints, pp. 84-93. Smith recounts the Mormons’ expulsion from Clay County, Missouri in his History of the Church, 1:372-393. In this account, he presents the Mormons as true Americans, adhering to the principles of religious freedom, and the “mob” as an anti-American group who had adopted a “secret constitution” declaring their intensions to drive the Mormons out.

55 The Aaronic and Melchizedek priesthoods were the lower and higher offices of priesthood within the Latter Day Saints’ Church. According to LDS doctrine, the priesthood of Aaron was restored when John the Baptist appeared to Joseph Smith and Oliver Cowdery and instructed them to baptize one another around June of 1829. The priesthood of Melchizedek was restored later when the apostles Peter, James and John appeared before Joseph Smith. Smith, Doctrine and Covenants 84, 107; History of the Church, 1:287-295. While the principle behind these two priesthoods and of LDS organization as a whole is restorationist in nature, its structure is distinct from that described in the Bible in many ways. For example, there is no mention in the Bible about a President of the Church, or a first presidency which includes the President and his three counselors. Likewise, the priesthood of Melchizedek was not an office in either the Israelite community or within the early church. Melchizedek was a mysterious character mentioned few times in the Bible. He is first introduced as the King of Salem (meaning peace) and priest of God who blessed Abraham. Abraham then offered Melchizedek a tenth of his possessions signifying the superiority of the latter. Melchizedek is then only referred to in a messianic psalm and in the book of Hebrews where the author says that Jesus is a priest in the order of Melchizedek, a priest without beginning or end, and a prince of peace. The Hebrew writer uses this comparison to emphasize the superiority of Jesus over the Levitical (or Aaronic) priesthood and the Law of Moses. See Genesis 14:18, Psalms 110:4, Hebrews 6:20- 7:28.

56 Smith, History of the Church, 2:194-202; Church Education System, Church History in the Fulness of Time, pp. 153-158.

57 See Luke 10:1-24.

58 Smith, History of the Church, 2:243; Church Education System, Church History in the Fulness of Time, pp. 153-55, 159-60.

219

59 Smith, History of the Church, 2:235-38, 348-50.

60 Smith, Doctrine and Covenants 76:50-70.

61 Smith, Doctrine and Covenants 76:71-80.

62 Smith, Doctrine and Covenants 76:81-86, 100-110.

63 Smith, Doctrine and Covenants 76:31-38.

64 Smith, History of the Church, 2:435-36.

65 Smith, History of the Church, 2:467, 470-73; Church Education Society, Church History in the Fulness of Time, pp. 171-73; Brodie, No Man Knows My History, pp. 195-198; Allen and Leonard, The Story of the Latter-Day Saints, pp. 111-112. Locofocos were a branch of Jackson’s Democratic Party originating in New York who was staunchly opposed to economic privilege which they believed most banks created. They were in favor of “hard money” and opposed the chartering of more state banks.

66 Allen and Leonard, The Story of the Latter-Day Saints, p. 113. Thomas O’Dea estimates the debt to have been $150,000. See The Mormons, p. 45.

67 Marvin S. Hill, C. Keith Rooker and Larry T. Wimmer suggest that Smith had reasons to be optimistic about his plan to raise capital because of rising land values which were not created by over-speculation and that the Kirtland banking experiment suffered the same as many other legitimate financial enterprises. Smith, they claim, could have gotten himself out of debt, but the land sales necessary to have done that would have depressed the overall value of land. See their work titled The Kirtland Economy Revisited: A Market Critique of Sectarian Economics (Salt Lake City: Brigham Young University, 1977). The Church Education Society’s version of events suggests that the greed and reckless speculation of certain Mormons was the cause of the financial trouble. See Church History in the Fulness of Time, pp. 172-73. Fawn Brodie’s interpretation places the blame more squarely on Smith’s negligence in No Man Knows My History, pp. 196-204.

68 Smith left in January 1838 while the rest of Kirtland made the trek in the summer and early fall.

69 Smith, History of the Church, 3:34-40; Church Education Society, Church History in the Fulness of Time, pp. 181-88; McKierman, The Voice of One Crying in the Wilderness, pp. 89.

70 Smith, History of the Church, 3:42, 55-62; O’Dea, The Mormons, p. 46; Brodie, No Man Knows My History, p. 131-37; Shipps, The Mormons in Politics, p. 59.

71 Smith, The History of the Church, 3:62-66; Brodie, No Man Knows My History, pp. 226-27.

72 Smith, History of the Church, 3:175-200; Church Education Society, Church History in the Fulness of Time, pp. 197-206.

73 Smith, History of the Church, 3:319-321.

74 Church Education Society, Church History in the Fulness of Time, pp. 222-23.

75 Brodie, No Man Knows My History, pp. 248-49. In the introduction to Smith’s History of the Church, church leaders suggest that Mormons were welcomed into Illinois because the state needed a boost to their population and commerce. See History of the Church, 4: xxii-xxiii.

220

76 McKierman, A Voice Calling from the Wilderness, p. 101; Church Education Society, Church History in the Fulness of Time, pp. 229-233, 247-49; Smith, History of the Church, 4:9. Smith’s History estimates that Nauvoo had 15,000 inhabitants.

77 Brodie, No Man Knows My History, pp. 278-282, 297-308, 334-347; Church Education Society, Church History in the Fulness of Time, pp. 251-61.

78 Smith, Doctrine and Covenants 132:20.

79 Smith, History of the Church, 6:305.

80 Smith, History of the Church, 6:595-99.

81 Smith, History of the Church, 5:4-6, 18, 49, 78-82, 252; Church Education Society, Church History in the Fulness of Time, pp. 2663-64; Brodie, No Man Knows My History, pp. 310-22.

82 Brodie, No Man Known My History, pp. 317-19.

83 Smith, History of the Church, 4:24-38; Church Education Society, Church History in the Fulness of Time, pp. 269-70. See also Correspondence Between The Prophet Joseph Smith and the Honorable J.C. Calhoun and Henry Clay and Other Presidential Candidates.

84 Brodie, No Man Knows My History, p. 323; Church Education Society, Church History in the Fulness of Time, p. 266-68.

85 Church Education Society, Church History in the Fulness of Time, pp. 275-84.

86 Individual similarities are noted in the following works: Conkin, American Originals; Louis Kern, An Ordered Love: Sex Roles and Sexuality in Victorian Utopias: The Shakers, The Mormons and the Oneida Community (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1981); Lawrence Foster, Religion and Sexuality: The Shakers, the Mormons and the Oneida Community (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1981). Conkin notes the similarities between Mormons and other American religious movements including Restorationists, Universalists, Millerites and others. Kern and Foster compare the Mormons to Shakers and the Oneida Community, other Jacksonian groups who rejected mainstream patterns of sexuality and family.

87 Joseph Smith’s interest in politics was a significant break from those of his grandfather, Asael Smith, expressed in a 1796 letter to Mr. Jacob Town. In this letter Asael Smith expresses absolute faith in the stability of his government and acknowledges his own ignorance of political matters. Asael Smith indicates that God does not need his help in guiding the government. Therefore, Asael Smith chooses to observe the “eleventh commandment,” minding his own business and giving “little concern about what passes in the political world.” This letter is reproduced in Smith’s History of the Church to show the noble character from which Joseph Smith descended, but the editors make no comment on how the two Smiths differ dramatically in their view of politics. See History of the Church, 1:287.

88 Smith, Doctrine and Covenants 44:4.

89 Smith, Doctrine and Covenants 58:21.

90 Smith, Book of Mormon, Mosiah 23:7, 8.

91 According to the biblical narrative, the people of Israel wanted a king like the other peoples around them had. Samuel, their judge and the prophet of God, believed that by enthroning a man as king over Israel, God would be dethroned as their true ruler. He finally acquiesced and named Saul as the first king over Israel after God assured him that the Israelites were rejecting God’s leadership and not Samuel’s. Alma, by

221 contrast, saw no problem with having a king provided an incorruptible person could be found. Without such a person, Alma preferred equality.

92 Smith, Book of Mormon, Mosiah 29:11-17.

93 Smith, Book of Mormon, Mosiah 27:3.

94 Thomas Jefferson, Notes on the State of Virginia (1782), p. 285.

95 Smith, Book of Mormon, Mosiah 29:25, 26.

96 Smith, Doctrine and Covenants 134:1-12

97 O’Dea, The Mormons, p. 169.

98 Joseph Smith, Joseph Smith’s Views on the Powers and Policy of the Government of the United States to which is appended the correspondence between the Prophet Joseph Smith and the Hons. John C. Calhoun and Henry Clay, candidates for the Presidency of the United States, (Salt Lake City, 1844), p. 12-13.

99 Ibid, p. 14.

100 Ibid, p. 15.

101 Ibid, p. 19.

102 Ibid, p. 22.

103 Ibid, p. 16.

104 Ibid, pp. 16, 18.

105 Ibid, p. 16.

106 O”Dea, The Mormons, p. 168. O’Dea points out that Mormons were very practical politically as they were willing to compromised certain religious convictions in order not to agitate their neighbors, especially on the slavery issue.

107 This anti-partisan pragmatic approach to political involvement can be seen also in Smith’s History of the Church where he says Mormons “care not a fig for Whig or Democrat” but chose to vote for those friendly to their cause. See History of the Church, 6:480.

108 Hansen, Mormonism and the American Experience, pp. 80-81.

109 Grant Underwood acknowledges the very Jacksonian and democratic nature of Mormonism. See his The Millenarian World of Early Mormonism, pp. 104-05.

110 Brodie, No Man Knows My History, pp. 353-54.

111 Smith, Correspondence pp. 27, 30.

112 Smith, Correspondence, pp. 35-38.

113 JoAnn Barnett Shipps, “The Mormons in Politics: the First Hundred Years,” (Ph.D. Diss., Boulder: University of Colorado, 1965), p. 18. Shipps suggests that Mormons used politics most vigorously when they felt threatened.

222

114 Smith, Correspondence, p. 42.

115 Smith, Doctrine and Covenants 64:41-4

116 Smith, Doctrine and Covenants 74:1-11.

117 Smith, Doctrine and Covenants 58:20-21.

118 Underwood, The Millenarian World of Early Mormonism, pp. 24-29, 38-41; Gordon Pollock, In Search of Security: The Mormons and the Kingdom of God on Earth, 1830-1844 (New York: Garland Publishing, 1989), pp. 184-85, 196-97, 202-03.

119 Gordon D. Pollock, In Search of Security: The Mormons and the Kingdom of God on Earth, 1830-1844 (New York: Garland Publishing, 1989), pp. 2-7; 51.

120 Pollock, In Search of Security, pp. 9, 101-103, 283.

121 Smith, Book of Mormon, Mosiah 27:7. See also Alma 1:31, I Nephi 2:20, Jacob 2:19.

122 See these Book of Mormon scriptures: Alma 1:30, 5:53, 45:24; Hel 13:20-22, 30-33; Mosiah 4:23,12:29; II Nephi 9:3, 42; 28:15.

123 Smith, Book of Mormon, IV Nephi 1:24, 25.

124 Smith, Doctrine and Covenants 70:14; See also 38:27; 49:20; 51:3, 9; 78:6; 82:17.

125 Stephen J. Thompson, “Mormon Economics, 1830-1900: The Interaction of Ideas and Environment,” (Ph.D. Diss. University of Illinois Urbana-Champaigne, 1973), pp. 18-29.

126 Pollock, In Search of Security, p. 297.

127 Marwin S. Hill, C. Keith Rooker and Larry T. Wimmer, The Kirtland Economy Revisited: A Market Critique of Sectarian Economics, (Salt Lake City: Brigham Young University Press, 1977), pp. 2-16.

128 Ibid, pp. 45-47.

129 Ibid, pp. 24-40.

130 Smith, Doctrine and Covenants 58:52-53.

131 Smith, History of the Church, 2:480.

132 Smith, Book of Mormon, I Nephi 4:7, Mosiah 22:7, Alma 55:14-19, 30.

133 Smith, Doctrine and Covenants 89:1-9.

134 Smith, Book of Mormon, Mosiah 7:15; Alma 9:22, 36:29, 43:8, 48:4, 62:5

135 Smith, Book of Mormon, Ether 2:12

136 Smith, Book of Mormon, Jarom 1:5; Mosiah 13:16-19, 18:23; Doctrines and Covenants 59:12-14.

137 Smith, Book of Mormon, II Nephi 27:1

223

138 Smith, Doctrine and Covenants 89:21

139 Smith, Powers and Policy of the Government, pp. 15, 20.

140 Smith, History of the Church, 2:436-440.

141 Smith, Doctrine and Covenants 134:12

142 “The Elders in the Land of Zion to the Church of Christ Scattered Abroad,” The Evening and Morning Star, Dec. 1832, p. 5. Reprinted in Church Education Society, Church History in the Fulness of Time, p. 111.

Chapter Five: The Hicksites

1 See Jean R. Sunderland, Quakers and Slavery: A Divided Spirit (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1985) and Jack D. Marietta, The Reformation of American Quakerism, 1748-1783 (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1984).

2 Jack Marietta notes that sectarianism among the Quakers has been disparaged by many, including Daniel Boorstin, but he sees the Quakers as principled examples for moderns. See Marietta, The Reformation of American Quakerism, 1748-1783, p. xiv-xv. Daniel Boorstin, The Americans: The Colonial Experience (New York: Vintage, 1958), pp. 58-63. Although much has been written on colonial history since Boorstin, I use his work here because it makes the best contrast to Marietta’s work and because Marietta specifically noted Boorstin as the scholar whose interpretation he was challenging.

3 These divisions are absent also from many standard texts of American religious history. See Sydney Alstrom, A Religious History of the American People (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1972); Edwin Gaustad and Leigh Eric Schmidt, The Religious History of America: The Heart of the American Story from Colonial Times to Today, Revised Edition. (San Francisco: Harper Collins, 2002); Winthrop Hudson and John Corrigan, Religion in America, 6th ed. (Upper Saddle River, New Jersey: Prentice Hall, 1999). Only Roger Finke and Rodney Stark mention the Hicksites in relation to the Second Great Awakening in The Churching of America 1776-1990: Winners and Losers in Our Religious Economy (New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 1992), p. 44. They do so to demonstrate that sectarian groups attract more people than denominations. See also Robert W. Doherty, The Hicksite Separation: A Sociological Analysis of Religious Schism in Early Nineteenth Century America (New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 1967).

4 Hugh Barbour, The Quakers in Puritan England (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1964), p. 42.

5 Fox broke with Nathaniel Stephen because he mentioned the days of the week by name. It would be common among Friends, from Fox’s time on, to refer to the days as ‘the first day,” ‘the second day,” and so on. See Rufus M. Jones, ed., The Journal of George Fox (New York: Capricorn Books, 1963), p. 72.

6 Rufus M. Jones, ed., The Journal of George Fox (New York: Capricorn Books, 1963), pp. 65-83.

7 Barbour, The Quakers in Puritan England, pp. 94, 98.

8 Ibid, pp. 116-9. Unlike Ranters, Friends did believe that union with the Spirit did not make one impervious to sinful desires. Thus, they encouraged continual self examination .

9 Ibid, p. 102.

10 Ibid, pp. 98, 102; John Woolman, The Journal of John Woolman (Secaucus, New Jersey: The Citadel Press, 1961), p. 11. In his journal John Woolman agonized over whether or not he had spoken for too long

224 the first time he was moved to speak in a meeting. Thereafter, he became more confident that his impulse was in line with God’s leadings.

11 Margaret H. Bacon, The Quiet Rebels: The Story of the Quakers in America (New York: Basic Books, 1969), p. 19.

12 Jones, ed., The Journal of George Fox, pp. 109-114.

13 During the reign of Charles II, over 13,000 Quakers were imprisoned. Three hundred and thirty-eight died in prison. Allen C. Thomas, A History of the Friends in America (Philadelphia: John C. Winstron, 1919), p. 59.

14 Bacon, The Quiet Rebels, pp. 27-33. Allen C. Thomas, A History of the Friends in America, pp. 61-7. Although Dyer was punished and exiled from Massachusetts on two occasions, she still felt compelled to return to the “Lion’s Den,” the Quakers’ name for Boston.

15 Edward Burrough, A Declaration of the Sad and Great Persecution and Martyrdom of the People of God Called Quakers in New England for the Worshipping of God (London: Robert Wilfox, year?) In this document Burroughs appealed to the king complaining that Massachusetts Puritans were the real enemies of the English government since they persecuted loyal and peaceful English citizens. Burroughs emphasized that Puritans were inconsistent since they were guilty of the same oppression which they complained of in England.

16 Barbour, The Quakers in Puritan England, pp. 65-7, 182-9.

17 Jerry William Frost, The Quaker Family in Colonial America: A Portrait of the Society of Friends (New York: St. Martin’s, 1973), p. 30. See also D. Elton Trueblood, The People Called Quakers (New York: Harper and Row, 1966), p. 85-107. Trueblood beautifully describes Quaker worship as experiential finding its power not in ritual or doctrine, but in connection with other worshippers.

18 Jones, ed., The Journal of George Fox, p. 481.

19 Jones, ed., The Journal of George Fox, p. 460.

20 Allen C. Thomas, A History of the Friends in America (Philadelphia: John C. Watson, 1919), pp. 47-51. Thomas points out that Fox organized Yearly meetings in the mid 1650s partly to curtail the disruptive activities of extremists. See also Trueblood, The People Called Quakers, p. 70. Trueblood recognizes the dangerous temptation of Quakers to emphasize the Christ of subjective experience.

21 Jerry Willliam Frost, The Quaker Family in Colonial America, pp. 48-61. Frost suggests that Quaker discipline followed a middle path between the anarchy of the Ranters and the church and state union of Anglicans, Presbyterians and Puritans.

22 Jones, ed., The Journal of George Fox, p. 473; Trueblood, The People Called Quakers, p. 110. In his Journal Fox claims that “outsiders” were troubled by Friends’ meetings, as if they understood the transforming potential the society might have on the world. Faced with hostility, Friends still came together. Their gatherings, Trueblood points out, did produce ministerial leaders because Friends recognized those who had an apparent talent for communicating God’s will. In the absence of a formally ordained ministry, Quakers simply, and pragmatically, recognized those who ministered as such. For a succinct summary of the organization of Quaker meetings, see the appendix in Jean R. Soderlund, Quakers and Slavery: A Divided Spirit (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1985).

23 In Acts 27 Luke records his account of Paul’s shipwreck. After appealing to Caesar while in the court of Felix, Paul was sent as a prisoner to Rome. Before he eventually arrived his ship came apart in a strom.

225

According to this text, the ship wrecked because godless sailors on board ignored Paul’s warnings about setting out that day.

24 Isaac Sharpless, A Quaker Experiment in Government (Philadelphia: Alfred J. Ferris, 1898), p. 22.

25 Sharpless, A Quaker Experiment in Government, pp. 1-2.

26 Anthony Benezet, A Short Account of the People Called Quakers: Their Rise, Religious Principles and Settlement in America (Philadelphia: Joseph Crukshunk, 1780), p. 19.

27 For a detailed description of these problems see the second and third chapters of Gary B. Nash, Quakers and Politics: Pennsylvania, 1681-1726 (Boston: Northeastern Union Press, 1993) and J. William Frost, ed., The Keithian Controversy in Early Pennsylvania (Norwood, Pennsylvania: Norwood, 1980). Frost’s introduction to this collection suggests that Keith and Fox may have shared the same view.

28 Thomas, A History of the Friends in America, pp. 96-9; Nash, Quakers and Politics, pp. 144-56; Arthur J. Mekeel, “The Founding Years, 1681-1789,” in John M. Moore, ed., Friends in the Delaware Valley: Philadelphia Yearly Meeting 1681-1981 (Haverford, Pennsylvania: Friends Historical Association, 1981), pp. 19-21.

29 Jean Soderlund, Quakers and Slavery: A Divided Spirit (Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1985), p. 30.

30 Ibid, pp. 15-25. Benjamin Lay was rejected as much for his antics as his moral opposition to slavery. He shocked fellow Friends by kidnapping a Quaker child to illustrate the injustice of the slave trade. At the 1738 Yearly, he stabbed a Bible from which oozed a red, blood like substance as he tried to convince others to reject the argument that the Bible condones slavery and to discipline members involved in the unjust institution.

31 Ibid, p.32; Jack D. Marietta, The Reformation of American Quakerism, 1748-1783 (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1984), p. 97. Marietta and Richard Vann both contend that Quaker social concerns were not continuous from the time of Fox to John Woolman. Instead, these periods were separated by complacency in the early 18th century.

32 Jack D. Marietta, The Reformation of American Quakerism, 1748-1783 (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1984), p. 83.

33 Soderlund, Quakers and Slavery: A Divided Spirit, p. 173.

34 Marietta, The Reformation of American Quakerism, pp. 150-2, 185. While some historians has seen this withdrawal as a sign of Quakers’ undesirable dogmatism and inflexibility, Marietta sees this as a respectable sectarian stance on principles, something that has become far too rare. See Daniel Boorstin, The Americans: The Colonial Experience (New York: Vintage, 1958), pp. 63-9.

35 Marietta, The Reformation of American Quakerism, pp. xi-xv. Marietta emphasizes that sectarianism among Quakers, or in American religious history in general, has not been treated adequately or judged fairly. It is this author’s intention to do as Marietta did and give sectarians their due.

36 Elias Hicks, The Journal of Elias Hicks, 5th ed. (New York: Arno Press, 1969), p. 7.

37 Ibid, p. 8.

38 Ibid, p. 11.

39 Bliss Forbush, Elias Hicks: Quaker Liberal, (New York: Columbia University Press, 1956), pp. 8-12.

226

40 Ibid, p. 25.

41 Ibid, pp. 30-2.

42 Elias Hicks, The Journal of Elias Hicks, pp. 76-77.

43 Ibid, p. 14.

44 Hicks, The Journal of Elias Hicks, p. 222, 132, 133; Forbush, Elias Hicks: Quaker Liberal, p. 158.

45 Forbush, Elias Hicks: Quaker Liberal, p. 52.

46 John Comly, Journal of the Life and Religious Labours of John Comly (Philadelphia: 1853), pp. 53-4.

47 Forbush, Elias Hicks: Quaker Liberal, p. 80. Hicks was one of six citizens of Oyster Bay in charge of the marsh lands in 1797. Holding this office hardly suggests that he was a political man. The absence of political references in his journal may seem of little note since Quaker journals were specifically for spiritual teaching. However, Hicks so emphasized the distinctiveness of Quakers, it is reasonable to surmise that he wanted Friends to focus on the individual and collective renewal of their society, not on the political climate of the Federalist period. Letters of Hicks, especially that of December 26, 1821 to William Poole, also indicates his anti-political leanings.

48 Hicks, The Journal of Elias Hicks, pp. 218-21; Forbush, Elias Hicks: Quaker Liberal, pp. 72-5.

49 Hicks, The Journal of Elias Hicks, p. 84.

50 By using an isolated quote from Paul in I Corinthians chapter one in which Paul said, “I did not come to baptize,” Hicks asserted that Paul opposed baptism. Such an interpretation ignores the context in which this statement was made and many other positive baptism references made by Paul. The Corinthians whom Paul addressed were dividing into various groups, some loyal to Paul, others loyal to Apollos, and still others devoted to Christ. Paul, opposing such divisiveness, declared that he was glad he had not baptized many because that could be a pretext for misplaced loyalty. Paul urged the Corinthians to be united under Christ only. He did admit to baptizing some among the Corinthians. That he could not remember who he baptized, or how many suggests that he baptized people often. Other scriptures in which Paul proclaims the importance of baptism, even his own, makes Hicks’ claim that Paul opposed baptism unfounded.

51 Hamm, The Transformation of American Quakerism, pp. xiii-xiv, 14-32.

52 Elias Hicks to William Poole, 5 January 1817, Letters of Elias Hicks including also a Few Short Essays, written on several occasions, mostly illustrative of his doctrinal views (New York: Isaac T. Hopper, 1834), p. 24.

53 Elias Hicks, Two Discourses Delivered in New York December 17, 1824 by Elias Hicks (New York: James V. Seaman, 1825), pp. 4-5.

54 EH to Phebe Willis 19 May 1818, Letters of Elias Hicks, p. 48. Hicks expressed this same view in a speech to the Germantown Monthly Meeting in December of 1824 where he again compared Bible societies to the confusion and sin of Babel. See Elias Hicks, A Series of Extemporaneous Discourses Delivered in the Several Meetings of the Society of Friends in Philadelphia, Germantown, Abington, Byberry, Newtown, Falls and Trenton (Philadelphia: Joseph and Edward Parker, 1825), pp. 93-112.

55 J. William Frost, “Years of Conflict and Separation: Philadelphia Yearly Meeting, 1790-1860,” in John M. Moore, ed., Friends in the Delaware Valley: Philadelphia Yearly Meeting 1681-1981 (Haverford, Pennsylvania: Friends Historical Association, 1981), p. 61.

227

56 Forbush, Elias Hicks: Quaker Liberal, pp. 118-9. After Barnard was silenced she joined the Unitarians, a group with whom many associated Elias Hicks.

57 Ibid, p. 195; Ingle, Quakers in Conflict, p. 68.

58 Forbush, Elias Hicks: Quaker Liberal, pp. 134-9.

59 Forbush, Elias Hicks: Quaker Liberal, p. 182.

60 Forbush, Elias Hicks: Quaker Liberal, pp. 188-90.

61 See Matthew 18:15-17.

62 Letter from the Ten Elders to Elias Hicks December 19, 1822 copied in Cockburn, A Review, pp. 68-71 and Janney, An Examination, pp. 220-2.

63 Forbush, Elias Hicks: Quaker Liberal, p. 215; Cockburn, A Review, pp. 78-9.

64 The Christian Repository 1 (June 2, 1821): 29; (June 16, 1821): 30; (November 2, 1821): 126. On going discussion on these issues continues throughout.

65 The Christian Repository 1 (July 21, 1821): 57-8.

66 The Christian Repository 1 (August 11, 1821): 70; (November 24, 1821): 130; (December 8, 1821): 137- 8.

67 The Christian Repository 2 (June 29, 1822): 46.

68 The Christian Repository 1 (May 19, 1821): 24; (May 26, 1821): 26.

69 The Christian Repository 1 (December 29, 1821): 149. Paul pointed out that Amicus used scriptural references to argue his case because he did could not trust everyone’s inner light. In this way, Paul hoped to reveal a fundamental flaw in Quaker theology—the absence of doctrinal authority.

70 The Christian Repository 2 (April 20, 1822): 5.

71 The Christian Repository 2 (May 7, 1822): 25.

72 This statement in no way is meant to imply that the Hicksites were the real followers of George Fox and the Orthodox Friends were not. Here, I’m simply suggesting that the Hicksites could more effectively draw from history since the Society of Friends had traditionally been persecuted by those who thought them un- Christian. Hicksite historians certainly made the most of the separation writing sympathetic portrayals of their brothers that have become the standard treatments of the division. See Ingle, Quakers in Conflict, Doherty, The Hicksite Separation, Forbush, Elias Hicks: Quaker Liberal, Janney, An Examination and Cockburn, A Review.

73 Ingle, Quakers in Conflict, p. 126; Forbush, Elias Hicks, p. 245; Evans, Jonathan Evans and His Time, 1759-1839 (Boston: Christopher Publishing House, 1959), pp. 79-81.

74 Cockburn, A Review, pp. 102-7, 69-186, 206-21.

75 Early Hicksite accounts of this episode are quick to point out the unprecedented steps taken by the Orthodox camp, but seem blind to their own sides’ peculiar maneuvers. Samuel Janney argues that the Hicksites were within their rights to send as many delegates as each meeting should choose, but says that

228 the Orthodox Friends were wrong to assume that last year’s clerk would simply hold his position during the impasse. Both practices seem to have been done without prior example and should be viewed with suspicion. See Janney, An Examination, p. 261.

76 “Letter to the Friends Within the Compass of the Yearly Meeting held in Philadelphia” reprinted in Cockburn, A Review, p. 203.

77 Ibid, p. 199-205.

78 Janney, An Examination, pp. 268-9.

79 Cockburn, A Review, pp. 250-70; Janney, An Examination, pp. 269-347.

80 Frost, “Years of Crisis and Separation,” pp. 78-99.

81 Forbush, Elias Hicks, pp. 278-284. See Barnabus Bates, Remarks on the Character and Exertions of Elias Hicks, Being an Address Delivered Before the African Benevolent Societies in Zion’s Chapel, New York, March 15, 1830, New York: Mitchell and Davis, 1830.

82 Marietta, The Reformation of American Quakerism, pp. 97-128; Bacon, The Quiet Rebels, 94-146. See also Woolman, The Journal of John Woolman and Plea for the Poor.

83 Doherty, The Hicksite Separation, pp. 39-41.

84 Frost, “Years of Crisis and Separation,” pp. 60-7.

85 The Berean 1:1 (February 1824): 1-5; 1:4 (March 1824): 62-3; 1:5 (April 20, 1824): 72; 1:9 (July 24, 1824): 134; 1:19 (December 7, 1824): 300-1.

86 The Berean 1:9 (July 24, 1824): 137; 1:19 (December 7, 1824): 301. In the latter reference a Hicksite contributor anticipates the sect-denomination interpretation of Finke and Stark by suggesting that sects always attract more members. See Finke and Stark, The Churching of America.

87 Elias Hicks, A Series of Extemporaneous Discourses Delivered in the Several Meetings of the Society of Friends in Philadelphia, Germantown, Abington, Byberry, Newtown, Falls and Trenton (Philadelphia: Joseph and Edward Parker, 1825), pp. 290-1.

88 The Reformer 2:18 (June 1821): 134-40.

89 The Reformer 2:16 (April 1821): 80-9; 4:44 (July 1823): 164. The Berean 1:19 (December 7, 1824): 300; 2:4 (June 7, 1825): 49-50; 2:7 (Sept 20, 1825): 82.

90 The Christian Repository 1:49 (March 16, 1821): 193.

91 The Reformer 2:1 (January 1, 1821): 1.

92 The Berean 2:3 (May 19, 1825): 42.

93 The Berean 2:19 (March 21, 1826): 289. Methodists did establish their own Bible societies, but their defection from societies dominated by Calvinists may have given this contributor the idea that they did not distribute Bibles.

94 The Berean 2:4 (July 7, 1825): 49-50.

95 The Berean 1:25 (March 1826): 398-400.

229

96 The Berean 2:2 (May 5, 1825): 27.

97 The Christian Repository 1:8 (June 2, 1821): 31-2.

98 Hicks, Extemporaneous Discourses, p. 299. The Parable of the Talents is recorded in Matthew 25:14-30. In the parable a master gives three servants a sum of talents (money) based on their abilities. To the first he gives five, to the second two, and to the last one. When the master returns he commends his first two servants who have doubled the talents given by the master. The last servant, however, is rebuked for making nothing of his one talent for he only hid the talent until the master’s return. The master condemns this servant as “wicked” and “lazy,” but Hicks suggests that he may have actually worked hard in a misguided way.

99 Hicks, The Journal of Elias Hicks, p. 412.

100 Elias, Hicks, The Quaker, Being a Series of Sermons by Members of the Society of Friends, Vol. I, (Philadelphia: M.T.C. Gould, 1827), p. 19.

101 Hicks, Extemporaneous Discourses, pp. 13, 129.

102 Letters of Elias Hicks, pp. 25-32.

103 EH to Phebe Willis, 19 May 1818, Letters of Elias Hicks, p. 49.

104 The Christian Repository 1:14 (July 14, 1821): 54; 2:2 (April 20, 1822): 5.

105 EH to William Poole, 28 December 1819, Letters of Elias Hicks, pp. 50-51.

106 EH to Phebe Willis, 19 May 1818, Letters of Elias Hicks, pp. 46-7.

107 EH to Phebe Willis, 23 September 1820, Letters of Elias Hicks, p. 64.

108 Hicks, Extemporary Discourses, 42.

109 Hicks, Extemporaneous Discourses, pp. 42, 48-50.

110 The Berean 1:5 (April 20, 1824): 72.

111 The Berean 1:1 (February 1824): 4-5.

112 EH to William Poole, 15 June 1817, Letters of Elias Hicks, p. 39.

113 Hicks, Extemporaneous Discourses, pp. 24-5.

114 Evan Lewis, Review of the Testimony Issued by the Orthodox Seceders from the Monthly Meetings of Westbury and Jericho Against Elias Hicks (New York: A. Ming, 1829), p. 52.

115 “An Essay on the Birth and Offices of Christ,” in Letters of Elias Hicks, p. 81.

116 Hicks, Extemporaneous Discourses, p. 54.

117 Hicks, Sermons, p. 94.

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118 Hicks, Observations on the Slavery of the Africans and Their Descendents and on the Use of the Produce of Their Labour Recommended to the Serious, Personal, and Impartial Consideration of the Citizens of the United States, and Others Concerned (New York: Samuel Wood, 1814), pp. iv, 15.

119 Ibid, pp. 4, 16.

120 Ibid, p. 11; Extemporaneous Discourses, p. 211.

121 Ibid, pp. 11-15.

122 For a sociological and economic analysis of the Hicksites see Doherty, The Hicksite Separation. Doherty provides multiple statistical tables and charts demonstrating the economic gap between Hicksites and Orthodox Friends.

123 The Berean 2:4 (June 7, 1825): 49-50; The Reformer 1:4 (April 1, 1820): 73; 2:16 (April 1, 1821): 80.

124 Henry W. Wilbur, Life and Labours of Elias Hicks (Philadelphia: Friends General Conference Advancement Committee, 1910), pp. 95-103.

125 Ibid, p. 95.

126 See Doherty, The Hicksite Separation, pp. 34-87.

127 Hicks, Journal, p. 233; Wilbur, Life and Labours of Elias Hicks, p. 95-6.

128 Hicks, Extemporaneous Discourses, pp. 5, 16.

129 The Cabinet; or, Works of Darkness Brought to Light Being a Retrospect of the Anti-Christian Conduct of Some of the Leading Characters in the Society of Friends Towards Elias Hicks to which is added, the proposed Quaker Creed and an Appendix Containing Some Remarks on Thomas Eddy’s Letters in His “Facts and Observances” with A Glance at Passing Events (Philadelphia: John Mortiner, 1825), p. 71.

130 John Woolman, The Journal of John Woolman and Plea for the Poor (Secaucus, New Jersey: The Citadel Press), p. 43.

131 Ibid, pp. 18, 41.

132 Ibid, pp. 225, 234, 41.

133 Ibid, pp. 42, 227.

134 Ibid, p. 77.

135 Cockburn, A Review, p. 54.

136 EH to William Poole, 26 December 1821, Letters of Elias Hicks, p. 92.

137 Doherty, The Hicksite Separation, p. 87.

138 Janney, An Examination, pp. 260-9.

139 See John Wilbur, “Appendix, Containing a Comparison of Some of the Doctrinal Views of Joseph John Gurney with those of Several Standard Writers Among the Early Friends and Several Testimonies and Letters Relative to the Doctrines and Conditions of the Society of Friends,” in A Narrative and Exposition of the Late Proceedings of New England Yearly Meeting (New York: Piercy and Reed Printers, 1845), pp.

231

277-325. Allen C. Thomas, A History of the Friends in America (Philadelphia: John C. Winston, 1919), pp. 144-9; Hamm, The Transformation of Quakerism, pp. 20-32.

140 Ingle, Quakers in Conflict, p. 247; Frost, “Years of Crisis and Separation,” p. 83.

Chapter Six: The Transcendentalists

1 Barry Hankins, The Second Great Awakening and the Transcendentalists (Westwood, Connecticut: Greenwood Press, 2004), p. 45.

2 Charles G. Finney: An Autobiography (Old Tappan, New Jersey: Fleming H. Revell, 1908), pp. 302-19.

3 Ralph Waldo Emerson, Sermon CLXII “The Lord’s Supper” in Transcendentalism: A Reader ed. Joel Myerson (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), pp. 68-78.

4 Roland N. Stromberg, European Intellectual History Since 1789, 5th ed. (Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey: Prentice Hall, 1990), pp. 41-8.

5 Anne C. Rose, Transcendentalism as a Social Movement, 1830-1850 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1981). Rose focuses her study on those Transcendentalists who she believes were most committed to reform, Emerson, Brownson, Ripley, Peabody, Fuller, and Alcott, and not on the more individualistic Thoreau or the more conventional Parker.

6 Len Gougeon, Virtue’s Hero: Emerson, Anti-slavery and Reform (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 1990). Gougeon’s introductory chapter, “Abolition and the Biographers” is a very useful historiographical essay on the various interpretations of Emerson and social reform.

7 See T. Gregory Garvey, ed., The Emerson Dilemma: Essays on Emerson and Social Reform (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 2001) and David M. Robinson, ed., The Political Emerson: Essential Writings on Politics and Social Reform (Boston: Beacon Press, 2004).

8 Hankins, The Second Great Awakening and the Transcendentalists, pp. 51-3.

9 To be fair, Hankins’ work is quite short and does not pretend to be exhaustive, so its focus on Finney and Beecher may be understandable. See Hankins, The Second Great Awakening and the Transcendentalists.

10 Joel Myerson, The New England Transcendentalists and the Dial: A History of the Magazine and Its Contributors (London: Associated University Press, 1980), p. 19.

11 See Perry Miller, ed., The American Transcendentalists: Their Prose and Poetry (New York: Doubleday, 1957), pp. 3-47. Here Miller presents four different transcendentalists’ interpretation of their own movement. It should also be noted that a former transcendentalist, Octavius B. Frothingham, provides some of the essential histories and biographies of transcendentalist studies. See his Transcendentalism in New England: A History (Boston: American Unitarian Association, 1876); The Life of Theodore Parker: A Biography (Boston: James R. Osgood, 1874); and George Ripley (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1882); Memoir of William Henry Channing (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1886).

12 The European roots of transcendentalism are too great and complicated a subject to be adequately addressed here; since it is only tangentially related to subject at hand, a cursory introduction will have to suffice. For a more complete explanation of the influence of Kantian and post-Kantian philosophy on the Transcendentalists see Frothingham, Transcendentalism in New England, pp. 1-104.

232

13 Stromberg, European Intellectual History Since 1789, pp. 27-8.

14 Frederick Henry Hedge, “Colridge’s Literary Character,” in Transcendentalism: A Reader ed. Myerson, p. 89. In his overview of Kantian philosophy, Hedge said that this was its greatest value. It should be noted that both Evangelicals and Unitarians in America were adherents of Scottish Common Sense Realism, another version of Lockean philosophy which suggested that the common perceptions of sense experience could generally be trusted. This was the philosophical school of Alexander Campbell which encouraged him to believe that people could come to reasonable unity on their interpretations of the Bible if they simply used reason without bias when reading it. Cameron Thompson has argued that the Transcendentalists rejected Scottish Common Sense philosophy, which dominated American education, just as fully as they did Locke. See his “John Locke and New England Transcendentalism,” in American Transcendentalism: An Anthology of Criticism ed. Brain M. Barbour (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1973), pp. 83-102.

15 Fichte, Schelling, Schleiermacher, and Cousin are among those philosophers who Transcendentalists praised. For a summary of their philosophies and their influence see Frothingham, Transcendentalism in New England, pp. 1-104; Rene Wellek, “The Minor Transcendentalists and German Philosophy,” and Georges J. Joyaux, “Victor Cousin and American Transcendentalism,” in American Transcendentalism ed. Barbour, pp. 103-38.

16 See Frederick Henry Hedge, “Colridge’s Literary Character,” in Transcendentalism, ed. Myerson, p. 78- 97.

17 Conrad Wright, The Beginnings of Unitarianism in America (Boston: Starr King Press, 1955), pp. 10-17.

18 Ibid, pp. 16-7.

19 Ibid, pp. 56-8.

20 Ibid, pp. 119, 133.

21 H.C. Goddard, “Unitarianism and Transcendentalism,” in American Transcendentalism ed. Barbour, p. 162.

22 Goddard, “Unitarianism and Transcendentalism,” in American Transcendentalism ed. Barbour, p. 166.

23 David Robinson, “The Legacy of Channing: Culture as a Religious Category in New England Thought,” Harvard Theological Review 74 (1981), p. 221.

24 Compare Channing’s “Remarks on a National Literature” and “Self -Culture” with Emerson’s “American Scholar” and “Self Reliance.” Although there are many similarities, it should be noted that Channing sees religion as the power behind a great national literature whereas Emerson sees both society and religion as the enemies of his American Scholar. Likewise, Channing’s “Self-Culture” is less selfish than Emerson’s self reliant individual. See William Ellery Channing, The Works of William E. Channing, D.D. (Boston: American Unitarian Association, 1896), pp. 12-26, 124-38; Carl Bode, ed., The Portable Emerson, pp. 51- 71, 138-64.

25 See Albert J. Von Frank, ed., The Complete Sermons of Ralph Waldo Emerson (Columbia: University of Missouri Press, 1989), p. 180.

26 Perry Miller, “From Edwards to Emerson,” in American Transcendentalism ed. Barbour, pp. 63-81.

27 Emerson, “Nature,” in The Portable Emerson ed. Bode, p. 11.

233

28 Ibid, p. 29. For an example of the criticism which Nature received see Francis Bowen, “Emerson’s Nature” in The Transcendentalists: An Anthology ed. Perry Miller (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1960), pp. 173-6.

29 Orestes Brownson, New Views on Christianity, Society and the Church, in Transcendentalists ed. Miller, pp. 114-23; William Henry Furness, Remarks on the Four Gospels in Transcendentalists ed. Miller, p. 125.

30 See A. Bronson Alcott, “The Doctrine and Discipline of Human Culture,” except from Conversations with Children on the Gospels, and Elizabeth Palmer Peabody “Explanatory Preface to Record of a School: Exemplifying the General Principles of Spiritual Culture,” in Transcendentalism ed. Myerson, pp. 167-95, 97-120. These documents explain the philosophical principles upon which Alcott based his school and show how he allowed students to discover their own truths through conversations. Elizabeth Peabody’s comments are also helpful since she too worked at Alcott’s school and she recorded the conversations. Myerson points out that, while she defended Alcott’s methods, she also wanted to distance herself from the coming controversy.

31 Wright, The Beginnings of Unitarianism in America, pp. 151-9.

32 George Ripley, “Martineau’s Rationale” in Transcendentalism ed. Miller, pp. 129-32.

33 Myerson, The New England Trancendentalists and the Dial, p. 25.

34 Ripley, “Letter to the Editor,” in Transcendentalism ed. Myerson, p. 164.

35 Miller, Transcendentalists, p. 179.

36 This is the observation of Joel Myerson. See his Transcendentalism, p. 195.

37 Emerson, “The American Scholar,” in The Portable Emerson, ed. Bode, p. 57.

38 Ibid, pp. 56, 62, 64.

39 Ibid, p. 62.

40 Ibid, pp. 70-71.

41 Emerson, “The Divinity School Address,” in The Portable Emerson, ed. Bode, p. 78.

42 Ibid, pp. 80-81.

43 Frothingham, Transcendentalism in New England, p. 108.

44 Wright, The Beginnings of Unitarianism in America, p. 159.

45 Andrews Norton, “The New School in Literature and Religion,” in Transcendentalists, ed. Miller, p. 193.

46 Andrews Norton, “A Discourse on the Latest Form of Infidelity,” in Transcendentalists ed. Miller, p. 211.

47 Andrews Norton, “The New School in Literature and Religion,” in Transcendentalists ed. Miller, p. 193, 195.

48 Clarence L.F. Gohdes, The Periodicals of American Transcendentalism (Durham: University of North Carolina Press, 1931), p. 18.

234

49 Ibid, p 22-3. The Western Messenger was published from 1835-1841 and shared many contributors with The Dial. Other notable editors of this journal included William Ellery Channing, Jr., Christopher Cranch, James H. Perkins and Samuel Osgood.

50 Orestes Brownson, “Norton’s Evidences for the Genuineness of the Gospels,” in Transcendentalists ed. Miller, pp. 206-07. Theodore Parker expressed essentially this same argument in a pamphlet published in 1840 under the name Levi Blogett. See Parker’s “The Previous Questions between Mr. Andrews Norton and His Alumni,” in Transcendentalists ed. Miller, pp. 226-31.

51 Miller, Transcendentalists, p. 183.

52 Orestes Brownson, “Emerson,” in Transcendentalists ed. Miller, pp. 431-4.

53 Orestes Brownson, “Wordsworth,” in Transcendentalists ed. Miller, p. 435.

54 Orestes Browson, “The Laboring Classes,” in Transcendentalists ed. Miller, pp. 436-46. Boston Quarterly Review 3:2 (July 1840): 358-95.

55 Most notably William Henry Channing and George Bancroft were Transcendentalists of the Brownson type. Channing defended Brownson’s “Laboring Classes” even to the detriment of his Western Messenger. While other Transcendentalists distanced themselves from Brownson, Channing remained his biggest defender. Bancroft was also a democratic Transcendentalist interested mainly in the collective spirit. His writings in the Boston Quarterly Review and his History of the United States exemplify this branch of Transcendentalism. It is also noteworthy to mention that Bancroft’s history linked the Quakers to Kant and Transcendentalism. See Miller, Transcendentalists, pp. 422-30, 446-9.

56 Myerson, The New England Transcendentalists and The Dial, pp. 36-8.

57 Ibid, p. 74; Cooke, An Historical and Biographical Introduction to Accompany The Dial, pp. 84-5.

58 Cooke, An Historical and Biographical Introduction to Accompany The Dial, pp. 63, 82-3.

59 Myerson, The New England Transcendentalists and The Dial, pp. 48-51, 93.

60 Ralph Waldo Emerson, “The Editors to the Readers,” The Dial 1:1 (July 1840): 1-4.

61 Ripley’s review of Brownson’s work came just after Brownson published his controversial “The Laboring Classes.” Ripley’s positive appraisal marked The Dial as a radical publication. So too did Alcott’s “Orphic Sayings,” a collection of provocative proverbs which inspired the fury of the public. See George Ripley, “Brownson’s Writings,” The Dial 1:1 (July 1840): 23-30; A. Bronson Alcott, “Orphic Sayings,” The Dial 1:1 (July 1840): 85-98, 1:3 (January 1841): 351-6.

62 See Orestes Brownson, “The Laboring Classes,” Boston Quarterly Review 3:2 (July 1840): 358-95; Miller, Transcendentalists, pp. 436-46.

63 Perry Miller says that Alcott’s “Orphic Sayings” was the main reason The Dial was ridiculed. See his Transcendentalists, p. 303; Myerson, The New England Transcendentalists and The Dial, p. 61; Cooke, An Historical and Biographical Introduction to Accompany The Dial, pp. 170-1.

64 Margaret Fuller, “The Great Lawsuit,” The Dial 4:1 (July 1843): 1-48; Miller, Transcendentalists, p. 457-64.

65 Fuller, “Essay of Criticism,” The Dial 1:1 (July 1840): 5-11.

66 Ripley to Ralph Waldo Emerson, 9 November 1840, Transcendentalism, ed. Myerson, pp. 307-11.

235

67 Emerson to George Ripley, 15 December 1840, Transcendentalism, ed. Myerson, pp. 311-3.

68 Joel Myerson says that “at the heart of this controversy was the question: Which comes first, a just and honorable society or a good and moral people?” Transcendentalists divided over “whether a just society, with just laws, can change its populace for he better, or whether people must be reformed before they can enact fair and just laws.” Brownson focused on changing society. So did Ripley, though his plan was not nearly as revolutionary. And Emerson focused on reforming the individual first. See Myerson, Transcendentalism, p. 307. Perry Miller also points to Brook Farm as a pivotal departure between individualists and associationalists. See Miller, Transcendentalists, p. 464.

69 Emerson, “Self-Reliance,” in The Portable Emerson, ed. Bode, pp. 138, 142.

70 Emerson to George Ripley, 15 December 1840, Transcendentalism, ed. Myerson, pp. 311-3.

71 Emerson, “Self-Reliance,” in The Portable Emerson, ed. Bode, p. 164.

72 Lindsay Swift, Brook Farm: Its Members, Scholars and Visitors (New York: Corinth Books, 1961), pp. 49, 67.

73 Emerson, “Self-Reliance,” in The Portable Emerson, ed. Bode, p. 144.

74 Ibid, p. 145.

75 For a summary history of The Harbinger, published from 1845-1849 see Frothingham, Transcendentalism in New England, pp. 325-32; Gohdes, The Periodicals of American Transcendentalism, pp. 101-31.

76 Alcott and Charles Lane, “Fruitlands,” and “The Consociate Family Life,” in Transcendentalism, ed. Myerson, pp. 428-9, 435-42; Koster, Transcendentalism in America, pp. 21-2, 64-7; Frothingham, Transcendentalism in New England, pp. 249-83.

77 Theodore Parker, “A Discourse of the Transient and Permanent in Christianity,” in The American Transcendentalists, ed. Miller, p. 110.

78 Ibid, pp. 106-139.

79 Ibid, p. 121.

80 Frothingham, The Life of Theodore Parker, pp. 125-35, 352-75; Henry Steele Commager, Theodore Parker: Yankee Crusader (Boston: Beacon Press, 1947), pp. 50, 75-8, 151-167.

81 Although I am using the examples of Brownson, Ripley and Parker as examples of social oriented Transcendentalists and Emerson and Thoreau as individualists, Joel Porte has pointed out more subtle differences between the latter two. Emerson, he suggests, was driven by his intellect and Thoreau by his senses. See Joel Porte, Emerson and Thoreau: Transcendentalists in Conflict (Middletown, Connecticut: Wesleyan University Press, 1965).

82 Koster, Transcendentalism in America, p. 48. Koster describes Thoreau as Transcendentalism’s “chief practitioner” and the most thoroughly tied to the principles of Transcendentalism.

83 Henry David Thoreau, Walden (New York: W.W. Norton, 1951), pp. 19-21, 26-9, 36, 41, 48, 50-1, 84.

84 See Thoreau, “Resistance to Civil Government,” in Transcendentalism ed. Myerson, pp. 546-65.

236

85 Thoreau, Walden, p. 343.

86 Perry Miller says without question that the movement was over by 1850 in his Transcendentalists, p. 13. Anne Rose also terminates her study of the movement in that year. See Rose, Transcendentalism as a Social Movement, 1830-1850, p. xi.

87 The publication of Thoreau’s Walden and “Life Without Principle” in 1854 are notable exceptions.

88 Basil Willley’s introduction to Walden suggests that this is how people have always treated Thoreau. He is read, revered and ignored, much like Jesus’ “Sermon on the Mount.” See Willey’s “Introduction” in Walden, p. 8.

89 Miller, Transcendentalists, pp. 13-4.

90 Brownson, “The Laboring Classes,” Boston Quarterly Review 3 (July 1840): 366.

91 Ibid, pp. 368-70.

92 For another comparison of black slavery to white labor see “The Question of Labor,” The Harbinger 1:2 (June 21, 1845): 29-31. Here, too, the plight of white laborers is considered worse.

93 Ibid, pp. 390-5.

94 Harriet Elaine Cunningham, “The Economic Ideas of the New England Transcendentalists,” (Masters Thesis, University of Texas at Austin, 1941), pp. 52-63.

95 Ibid, pp. 64-74.

96 The transition from liberal to conservative in economic and political terms is by no means parallel to the transition from sect to denomination in religion. In fact, because sects often ignored political and economic matters, they were often conservatives. Their more exclusive nature and stricter discipline would also make them more conservative than denominations. This analogy is simply meant to convey the idea of movement and transition. As Parker saw it, merchants had abandoned their principles and their purity once they were successful. Similarly, sects tend to become more complacent and concerned with self preservation once successful.

97 Parker, “A Sermon of Merchants,” in Transcendentalists ed. Miller, pp. 449-56.

98 The Writings of Henry D. Thoreau, Vol. 12, p. 111.

99 Ibid, Vol. 14, pp. 282-4.

100 Thoreau, Walden, p. 29; Cunningham, ‘The Economic Ideas of the New England Transcendentalists,” p. 30.

101 The Writings of Henry D. Thoreau, Vol. 12, p. 277; Cunningham, “The Economic Ideas of the New England Transcendentalists,” p. 30-1.

102 Thoreau, “Life Without Principles,” in The Writings of Henry D. Thoreau: Reform Papers ed. Glick, p. 158-9; See also The Writings of Henry D. Thoreau, Vol. 7, pp. 151, 356-7

103 Ibid, p. 160; Thoreau, Walden, p. 108.

104 Cunningham, “The Economic Ideas of the New England Transcendentalists,” pp. 8-10.

237

105 Emerson, “Self Reliance,” in The Portable Emerson ed. Bode, p. 142; Thoreau, Walden, p. 88.

106 Len Gourgeon finds it ironic that some scholars have seen Emerson as a conservative forerunner of laissez faire capitalism when he was, in Gourgeon’s view, always a social reformer. My intention is not to link him also to social Darwinism, but simply to point out the similarity between some of his specific comments on charity and those of social Darwinism’s main American promoter. They are interesting and ironic when compared because Emerson was not truly a social Darwinist. He was not nearly as interested in economics as Sumner was and this is my point. Social Darwinism denounces charity because of its ill effect on society; Emerson discouraged it when it did not come from the heart because of the negative effect on the individual soul. See Gourgeon, Virtue’s Hero, pp. 337-9.

107 Emerson, “Compensation,” in The Portable Emerson ed. Bode, p. 167; Cunningham, “The Economic Ideas of the New England Transcendentalists,” p. 12; Adapa Ramakrishna Rao, Emerson and Social Reform (Atlantic Highlands, New Jersey: Humanities Press, 1980), p. 48.

108 Cunningham, “The Economic Ideas of the New England Transcendentalists,” pp. 75-9.

109 Finney, Autobiography, pp. 302-319.

110 Alcott, “Orphic Sayings,” in The Dial 1:1 (July 1840): 88-9.

111 Emerson, “Self Reliance,” in The Portable Emerson ed. Bode, pp. 154-5.

112 The Writings of Henry David Thoreau, Vol. 6, ed. Bradford Terry (New York: AMS Press, 1968), p. 306.

113 Ibid, 8:53. See also “Life Without Principle” in The Writings of Henry D. Thoreau: Reform Papers ed. Wendell Glick (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1973), p. 177.

114 Thoreau, “Civil Disobedience,” in Henry D. Thoreau: Selected Writings on Nature and Liberty ed. Oscar Cargill (Indianapolis: Liberal Arts Press, 1952), p. 11.

115 Alcott, “Orphic Sayings,” in The Dial 1:1 (July 1840): 88-9.

116 The Writings of Henry David Thoreau, 9:103.

117 Thoreau, “Civil Disobedience,” in Henry D. Thoreau: Selected Writings on Nature and Liberty ed. Cargill, p. 15.

118 Miller, Transcendentalists, pp. 422-30.

119 The Works of Orestes A. Brownson Vol. 15 collected and arranged by. Henry F. Brownson (New York: AMS Press, 1966), p. 35-6, 115-7. The Harbinger offered more commentary on partisanship following the death of Andrew Jackson. The article praised Jackson for battling privilege and held the system, not Jackson, responsible for the unpleasantries of partisanship. See “Andrew Jackson,” The Harbinger 1:3 June 28, 1845): pp. 45-6.

120 Ibid, pp. 259-69.

121 See Alexis de Tocqueville, Democracy in America and John C. Calhoun, A Disquisition on Government.

122 Ibid, pp. 1-34, 291.

123 Frederick Henry Hedge, “The Art of Life-The Scholar’s Calling,” The Dial 1:2 (October 1840): 177-9.

238

124 Robinson, ed., The Political Emerson, pp. 27-32; Rao, Emerson and Social Reform, p. 70.

125 Gougeon, Virtue’s Hero, pp. 41-85.???

126 Robinson, ed., The Political Emerson, p. 28.

127 Emerson, “The Fugitive Slave Law,” in The Portable Emerson ed. Bode, pp. 541-57.

128 Commager, Theodore Parker, p. 250-2; Emerson, “John Brown,” in The Portable Emerson ed. Bode. Pp. 569-72; Thoreau, “A Plea for John Brown,” in The Writings of Henry David Thoreau ed. Glick, pp. 111-38. See also Jennifer Segrest Davis, “The Great Man: Emerson’s Theory of Social Reform,” (Masters Thesis, Austin Peay State Universtiy, 2004). In this brief thesis Davis analyzes Emerson’s writings on Daniel Webster and John Brown and argues that Emerson was taken in by Brown’s violent and anti- intellectual means of causing social reform.

129 Parker, “The Pharisees,” in The Dial 2:1 (July 1841): 66-9.

130 Commager, Theodore Parker, pp. 255-67.

131 Scholarly attention to reforms in this period is commonplace. For its impact on the Transcendentalists see Rao, Emerson and Social Reform, p. 17. Emerson also recognized the prevalence of reforms. See his “Historic Notes on Life and Letters in New England,” in The Portable Emerson ed. Bode, pp. 601, 606.

132 Rose, Transcendentalism as a Social Movement, pp. 28-37. Rose shows that the Transcendentalist Movement had a close relationship to the Second Great Awakening by demonstrating the influence evangelicalism had on the Unitarians. She argues that Transcendentalism emerged out of Evangelical Unitarianism.

133 Frothingham, Transcendentalism in New England, p. 153.

134 Rao, Emerson and Social Reform, p. 75.

135 Parker, “A Lesson for the Day, or The Christianity of Christ, of the Church and of Society,” The Dial 1:2 (October 1840): 196-210.

136 Frothingham, The Life of Theodore Parker, pp. 354-7.

137 Ibid, pp. 357-60.

138 The Works of William Ellery Channing (Boston: American Unitarian Association, 1896), p. 447-58; Rao, Emerson and Social Reform, pp. 97-106.

139 Thoreau, “Reform and the Reformers,” in The Writings of Henry D. Thoreau: Reform Papers ed. Glick, p. 183; “Journal” in The Writings of Henry D. Thoreau, 7:247.

140 Hedge, “The Art of Life-The Scholar’s Calling,” The Dial 1:2 (October 1840): 180.

141 Emerson, “New England Reformers,” in The Political Emerson, ed. Robinson, pp. 76, 79.

142 Emerson, “New England Reformers,” in The Political Emerson ed. Robinson, p. 73.

143 Thoreau, “Reform and the Reformers,” in The Writings of Henry D. Thoreau: Reform Papers ed. Glick, pp. 183-4, 194.

239

144 Thoreau, “Journal” in The Writings of Henry D. Thoreau, 7:350-1.

145 Emerson, “Lecture on the Times,” The Dial 3:1 (July 1842): 13.

146 Emerson, “New England Reformers,” in The Political Emerson ed. Robinson, p. 78. Emerson similarly critiqued the system of Fourier whose reform system “had skipped no fact but one, namely Life.” See “Historic Notes of Life and Letters in New England,” in The Portable Emerson ed. Bode, p. 610.

147 Several articles in The Harbinger express the desire that all reformers should come under the banner of associationalism. See, for example, “Union of All Reformers for One Great Reform,” The Harbinger 1:9 (August 9, 1845): 135; “Moral Reform,” 1:8 (August 1, 1845): 124-7 and 1:9 (August 9, 1845): 141-2; “The Union of All Reformers,” 1:11 (August 23, 1845): 169-70 and 1:16 (September 27, 1845): 245-6; “Reform and Reformers,” 5:19 (October 16, 1847): 294-5.

148 The Writings of Henry D. Thoreau, 7:240.

149 Thoreau, “Reform and the Reformers,” in The Writings of Henry D. Thoreau: Reform Papers ed. Glick, pp. 181-2.

150 Thoreau, Walden, p. 89.

151 Alcott, “Orphic Sayings,” The Dial 1:3 (January 1841): 351-2.

152 Emerson, “New England Reformers,” in The Political Emerson ed. Robinson, p. 77; “Lecture on the Times,” The Dial 3:1 (July 1842): 13.

153 Emerson, “Historic Notes of Life and Letters in New England,” in The Portable Emerson ed. Bode, p. 613; “Man the Reformer,” The Dial 1:4 (April 1841): 524.

154 A summary of the various interpretations offered by Emerson’s biographers can be found in Gougeon, Virtue’s Hero, pp. 1-23.

155 Ibid, pp. 24, 41, 337-9.

156 Michael Strysick, “Emerson, Slavery, and the Evolution of the Principle of Self Reliance,” in The Emerson Dilemma ed. Garvey, pp. 139-69.

157 When reading the history of Transcendentalism one is struck by the frequency with which scholars seem to be defending Transcendentalists against charges of being aloof as if such a charge were an automatic indictment. See Frothingham, Transcendentalism in New England; Rose, Transcendentalism as a Social Movement, Gougeon, Virtue’s Hero; Garvey, ed., The Emerson Dilemma.

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BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH

Matt McCook was born in Garland, Texas July 31, 1973. He was raised and educated in Post,

Texas where he graduated from high school in 1991. He attended Abilene Christian University where he earned a Bachelor of Science degree in interdisciplinary studies in 1995. The following school year while still living in Abilene he secured a middle school teaching position in Cisco, Texas where he taught 7th grade Texas history and 8th grade American history for one year. He was married in the middle of that school year to a fellow educator and Abilene Christian University graduate. Together they taught at

Northland Christian School in Houston from 1996 to 1999. Matt taught 8th and 9th grade American history as well as Psychology and Sociology.

Being in Houston afforded him the opportunity to pursue graduate school, something he had hoped to do since being inspired by Dr. Henry Speck III at Abilene Christian University. Thus, he attended

Sam Houston State University while teaching secondary school full time and earned his Master of Arts degree in History in the summer of 1999. Immediately upon completion of the degree, he started full time doctoral work at Florida State University in Tallahassee, Florida. While there he worked as a graduate assistant in the World War II Institute for one year and was a teaching assistant for the Department of

History for two years. Under the direction of Dr. Neil Jumonville, he completed his required coursework and passed his comprehensive examinations in 2001. In the fall of 2002 he was hired as an assistant professor of history at Oklahoma Christian University where he teaches presently.

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