What historians call "the first Great Awakening" can best be
described as a
revitalization of religious piety that swept through the American
colonies between the 1730s
and the 1770s. That revival was part of a much broader movement, an
evangelical upsurge
taking place simultaneously on the other side of the Atlantic, most
notably in England,
Scotland, and Germany. In all these Protestant cultures during the
middle decades of the
eighteenth century, a new Age of Faith rose to counter the currents of
the Age of
Enlightenment, to reaffirm the view that being truly religious meant
trusting the heart rather than the head, prizing feeling more than
thinking, and relying on biblical revelation rather than human reason.
The earliest manifestations of the American phase of this
phenomenon—the beginnings
of the First Great Awakening—appeared among Presbyterians in
Pennsylvania and New Jersey.
Led by the Tennent family—Reverend William Tennent, a Scots-Irish
immigrant, and his four
sons, all clergymen—the Presbyterians not only initiated religious
revivals in those colonies during the 1730s but also established a
seminary to train clergymen whose fervid, heartfelt preaching would
bring sinners to experience evangelical conversion. Originally known as
"the Log College," it is better known today as Princeton University.
Religious enthusiasm quickly spread from the Presbyterians of
the Middle Colonies to
the Congregationalists (Puritans) and Baptists of New England. By the
1740s, the clergymen
of these churches were conducting revivals throughout that region,
using the same strategy that had contributed to the success of the
Tennents. In emotionally charged sermons, all the more powerful because
they were delivered extemporaneously, preachers like Jonathan Edwards
evoked vivid, terrifying images of the utter corruption of human nature
and the terrors awaiting the unrepentant in hell. Hence Edwards's
famous description of the sinner as a loathsome spider suspended by a
slender thread over a pit of seething brimstone in his best known
sermon, "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God."
These early revivals in the northern colonies inspired some converts to become
missionaries to the American South. In the late 1740s, Presbyterian preachers from New York
and New Jersey began proselytizing in the Virginia Piedmont; and by the 1750s, some
members of a group known as the Separate Baptists moved from New England to central
North Carolina and quickly extended their influence to surrounding colonies. By the eve
of the American Revolution, their evangelical converts accounted for about ten percent of all southern churchgoers.
The First Great Awakening also gained impetus from the
wideranging American
travels of an English preacher, George Whitefield. Although Whitefield
had been ordained as a minister in the Church of England, he later
allied with other Anglican clergymen who shared his evangelical bent,
most notably John and Charles Wesley. Together they led a movement to
reform the Church of England (much as the Puritans had attempted
earlier to reform that
church) which resulted in the founding of the Methodist Church late in
the eighteenth century.
During his several trips across the Atlantic after 1739, Whitefield
preached everywhere in the
American colonies, often drawing audiences so large that he was obliged
to preach outdoors.
What Whitefield preached was nothing more than what other Calvinists
had been proclaiming
for centuries—that sinful men and women were totally dependent for
salvation on the mercy of
a pure, all-powerful God. But Whitefield—and many American preachers
who eagerly imitated
his style—presented that message in novel ways. Gesturing dramatically,
sometimes weeping
openly or thundering out threats of hellfire-and-brimstone, they turned
the sermon into a
gripping theatrical performance.
But not all looked on with approval. Throughout the colonies,
conservative and moderate clergymen questioned the emotionalism of evangelicals and charged
that disorder and discord attended the revivals. They took great exception to "itinerants,"
ministers who, like Whitefield, traveled from one community to another, preaching and all
too often criticizing the local clergy. And they took still greater exception when some white
women and African Americans shed their subordinate social status long enough to exhort
religious gatherings. Evangelical preachers and converts rejoined by lambasting their
opponents as cold, uninspiring, and lacking in piety and grace. Battles raged within
congregations and whole denominations over this challenge to clerical authority as well as the
evangelical approach to conversion from "the heart" rather than "the head."
So the first Great Awakening left colonials sharply polarized along religious lines.
Anglicans and Quakers gained new members among those who disapproved of the revival's
excesses, while the Baptists (and, in the 1770s, the Methodists) made even more handsome
gains from the ranks of radical evangelical converts. The largest single group of churchgoing
Americans remained within the Congregationalist and Presbyterian denominations, but they
divided internally between advocates and opponents of the Awakening, known respectively as
"New Lights" and "Old Lights." Inevitably, civil governments were drawn into the fray. In
colonies where one denomination received state support, other churches lobbied legislatures for
disestablishment, an end to the favored status of Congregationalism in Connecticut and
Massachusetts and of Anglicanism in the southern colonies.
Guiding Student Discussion
Now let's cut to the classroom. You've sketched out the story of the first Great
Awakening—its beginnings in the mid-Atlantic, its transit to New England, and its culmination
in the South, its legacy of debate and division. And you've emphasized that it was only the
colonial manifestation of a religious revival of much broader geographic scope—it spread the
length of British North America (where, indeed, the only public figure whose name was
known to virtually all colonials was George Whitefield!) and reverberated throughout the
Protestant countries of Europe as well.
So your next move might be to pose the question: What could account for the
tremendous appeal of evangelical Christianity to men and women living on both sides of the
Atlantic during the latter half of the eighteenth century?
Chances are that most students will simply look confused at this inquiry—although some
Christians among them might suggest that divine providence inspired large numbers of people
to embrace "true Christianity." If that happens, you have a prime opportunity to point out that
while such an explanation might well be persuasive from the standpoint of faith (that is, the
perspective of a believer), historians (no matter what their personal religious convictions might
be) strive to explain the IMMEDIATE causes of why things happened without reference to acts
of God. (Otherwise they'd all be out of business, since the ULTIMATE cause of every
historical event, from the standpoint of faith, is the will of God.)
With a little luck, those remarks will return the class to thinking about the SPECIFIC
HISTORICAL CIRCUMSTANCES that might have enhanced the appeal of evangelical
Christianity, with its formidable array of emotional consolations and moral certitudes, to large
numbers of people in the eighteenth century.
To keep the discussion on that track—and to make such connections more accessible to
students—you might try tossing out the observation that religious culture in America today
bears many resemblances to that of the eighteenth century. As many commentators, both
scholarly and popular, have noted, recent decades have witnessed an evangelical revival—what
some regard as yet another "Great Awakening." Since the 1960s, membership in conservative
evangelical Protestant churches has grown dramatically, while the membership of national
organizations like the Promise Keepers and local bible study groups have also expanded at an
astonishing rate. Some of your students will be aware of those trends—and therefore will have greater
confidence when it comes to speculating about the social sources of contemporary
evangelicalism's popular appeal—the transient lives of many Americans as population shifts to
the South and West, the high incidence of family fragmentation in the face of staggering
divorce rates, the uncertainty over gender roles fueled by feminism, the threats that recent
scientific discoveries and "secular humanism" are perceived by many to pose to "traditional
values," and so forth.
Okay, here's the payoff lurking at the end of this seeming
digression into the religious
culture of the late twentieth century: by now at least some students
will see the connection
between popular religious inclinations and broader social trends. So
this is the moment for you to steer them back into the eighteenth
century by noting that this, too, was an era of
extraordinary upheaval and crisis for ordinary people. Remind them that
England was entering
the Industrial Revolution and that evangelicals like the Methodists
attracted large numbers of
converts among miners and factory workers. Remind them that northern
Ireland and Germany,
other hotbeds of evangelical enthusiasm, were wracked by warfare,
famine, or both—harsh conditions that prompted hundreds of thousands to
migrate to British North America.
And, finally, remind them that in the American colonies, the same epoch
witnessed a massive
internal shift of population to the embattled frontiers of the South
and West, where ordinary
families endured hardscrabble, rootless lives and the ever-present
threat of attack from
dispossessed Indian tribes. Such circumstances also thrust women into
newly responsible roles
for the survival of migrating households as families were fragmented by
movement and death.
It follows that men and women faced with such stark challenges might have sought
opportunities for fellowship, solace, and emotional release—and that is exactly what
evangelicals on both sides of the Atlantic offered. Presbyterians, Baptists, and Methodists
touted their churches as havens from all the evils afflicting ordinary people—as islands of
disciplined stability and Christian charity in a churning sea of social chaos and cultural
confusion.
If you'd like more information about the First Great Awakening, the first book to
consult is Patricia Bonomi's Under the Cope of Heaven. This is probably the best overview of
religious history in the American colonies, and it offers a superb discussion of both the First
Great Awakening and how it bore upon the American Revolution. Another key source
is J. M. Bumsted and John E. Van de Wetering, What Must I Do to Be Saved? For a vivid
evocation of how revivalism flourished on both sides of the Atlantic during the eighteenth
century, you could not choose a better book than Leigh Eric Schmidt's Holy Fairs. Finally, for
a magisterial survey of the sweep of spiritual awakenings throughout America's past, you
should take a look at William McLoughlin's American Revivalism.
Historians Debate
There are two notable trends in recent scholarship on this subject. The first is
represented by those historians who argue that the revivals became a means by which humbler
colonials challenged the prerogatives of their social "betters"—both by criticizing their
materialistic values and undermining their claims to deference and respect. The strongest case
for this interpretation in the North has been advanced by Gary Nash in The Urban Crucible, a
wide-ranging study of major seaports in the eighteenth century; a similar view of the
Awakening in the upper South appears in Rhys Isaac, The Transformation of Virginia, 1740-1790. Indeed, some scholars like Harry Stout (The New England Soul) have argued that the
first Great Awakening radically transformed and democratized modes of mass communication,
thereby setting the stage for the emergence a new popular politics in the revolutionary decades
that followed.
But this interpretation has been sharply criticized by other scholars like Christine Leigh
Heyrman (Commerce and Culture) and Christopher Jedrey (The World of John Cleaveland)
who view the first Great Awakening, at least in the North, as an essentially conservative
movement, a continuation of earlier religious traditions. As for the South, even those scholars
who credit the potentially radical implications of early evangelical teachings in that region
argue that challenges to slavery and class privilege faded quickly in the wake of the revolution;
see, for example, Christine Leigh Heyrman, Southern Cross and Rachel Klein, The Unification
of a Slave State.
That skepticism about the social and political effects of colonial revivalism is shared by
another scholar who has offered the most sweeping rejection of the long-held view that the
first Great Awakening marked a watershed in early American history: Jon Butler, in his essay,
"Enthusiasm Described and Decried: The Great Awakening as Interpretive Fiction," Journal of
American History, 69 (1982-83), 305-25.
Many students of the first Great Awakening have been drawn to considering its possible
bearing on the American Revolution. If you'd like to find out more about their conclusions,
continue reading under Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries: Religion and the American Revolution.
Christine Leigh Heyrman was a Fellow at the National
Humanities Center in 1986-87. She holds a Ph.D. from Yale University in
American Studies and is currently Professor of History in the
Department of History at the University of Delaware.� Dr. Heyrman is
the author of Commerce and Culture: The Maritime Communities of Colonial New England,
1690-1740 [1984], Southern Cross: The Beginning of the Bible Belt [1997], which won the Bancroft Prize in 1998, and Nation of Nations: A Narrative History of the Republic, with James West Davidson, William Gienapp, Mark Lytle, and Michael Stoff [3rd ed., 1997].
Address comments or questions to Professor Heyrman through TeacherServe "Comments and Questions."