(from Reverend Peter Cartwright,
Autobiography of Peter Cartwright,
the Backwoods Preacher, 1857)
THE BIBLE LED the way to America. First the Pilgrims came to Plymouth to escape English persecution. In turn, the Pilgrims ousted Roger Williams for his different beliefs. Williams traveled “fourteen weeks of bitter winter season without knowing what bread or bed did mean” to found Providence, Rhode Island. There, with thirteen followers, he created the first commonwealth in the world to guarantee religious freedom unequivocally. To the south, Lord Baltimore attracted Catholics to Maryland, and later William Penn beckoned Quakers to Philadelphia.
Over the centuries, a number of charismatic leaders founded religious denominations. Mother Ann Lee started the Shakers. Joseph Smith’s visions launched the Mormons, whom Brigham Young led to Salt Lake City. In Boston Mary Baker Eddy founded Christian Science. One preacher, William Young, persuaded tens of thousands that the second coming of Christ was imminent. He urged his followers to prepare for that final day by climbing up on their housetops and haystacks in order to shorten their ascent to heaven. He set the date for the second coming for October 22, 1843.
There have been uncanny times of a national spiritual quickening. In 1734, the first revival, known as the Great Awakening, was ignited by the intellect and sermons of Jonathan Edwards and culminated in 1740 with the fiery zeal of George Whitefield’s evangelism. Thus was the American Methodist Church born.
A Second Great Awakening began in 1790. Peter Cartwright was a circuit-riding minister who fanned the flames of the revival, crisscrossing Illinois preaching fire, brimstone, and salvation.
Cartwright once had a “set-to” with a Herculean ferryman who defamed him—right in the middle of the Sangamon River. Cartwright hurled the ferryman overboard, then held him under water long enough to extract three gasping promises: (1) that he would say the Lord’s Prayer each morning and evening; (2) that he would hear every preacher who came within five miles; and, (3) that he would forevermore so ferry across the river any Methodist minister, free of charge. Cartwright’s constituents elected him to Congress. He later lost his seat to Abraham Lincoln. Here, in a passage from the Autobiography of Peter Cartwright, the Backwoods Preacher, published in 1857, Cartwright relates how he managed his ministry when holy hell broke out.
OUR LAST QUARTERLY-MEETING was a camp-meeting. We had a great many tents, and a large turnout for a new country, and, perhaps, there never was a greater collection of rabble and rowdies. They came drunk, and armed with dirks, clubs, knives, and horsewhips, and swore they would break up the meeting. After interrupting us very much on Saturday night, they collected early on Sunday morning, determined on a general riot.
At eight o’clock I was appointed to preach. About the time I was half through my discourse, two very fine-dressed young men marched into the congregation with loaded whips, and hats, and rose up and stood in the midst of the ladies, and began to laugh and talk. They were near the stand, and I requested them to desist and get off the seats; but they cursed me, and told me to mind my own business, and said they would not get down.
I stopped trying to preach, and called for a magistrate. There were two at hand, but I saw they were both afraid. I ordered the magistrates to take these men into custody, but they said they could not do it. I told them, as I left the stand, to command me to take them, and I would do it at the risk of my life. I advanced toward the rowdies. They ordered me to stand off, but I advanced.
One of them made a pass at my head with his whip, but I closed in with him and jerked him off the seat. A regular scuffle ensued. The congregation by this time were all in a commotion. I heard the magistrate give general orders, commanding all friends of order to aid in suppressing the riot. In the scuffle I threw my prisoner down, and held him fast; he tried his best to get loose; I told him to be quiet, or I would pound his chest well.
The mob, who sided with the ruffians, rose, and rushed to the rescue of the two prisoners, for we had taken the other young man also. An old and drunken magistrate came up to me, and ordered me to let my prisoner go. I told him I should not. He swore if I did not, he would knock me down. I told him to crack away.
Then one of my friends, at my request, took hold of my prisoner, and the drunken justice made a pass at me; but I parried the stroke, and seized him by the collar and the hair of the head, and fetching him a sudden jerk forward, brought him to the ground, and jumped on him. I told him to be quiet, or I would pound him well.
The rowdy mob then rushed to the scene. They knocked down seven magistrates, and several preachers and others. I gave up my drunken prisoner to another, and threw myself in front of the friends of order. Just at this moment the ringleader of the mob and I met; he made three passes at me, intending to knock me down. The last time he struck at me, by the force of his own effort he threw the side of his face toward me. It seemed at that moment that I had not the power to resist temptation, and I struck a sudden blow in the burr of the ear and dropped him to the earth. Just at that moment the friends of order rushed by hundreds on the mob, knocking them down in every direction.
In a few minutes, the place became too strait for the mob, and they wheeled and fled in every direction; but we secured about thirty prisoners, marched them off to a vacant tent, and put them under guard till Monday morning, when they were tried, and every man was fined to the utmost limits of the law. The aggregate amount of fines and costs was near three hundred dollars. They fined my old drunken magistrate twenty dollars, and returned him to court, and he was cashiered at his office.
On Sunday, when we had vanquished the mob, the whole encampment was filled with mourning; and although there was no attempt to resume preaching till evening, yet, such was our confused state, that there was not then a single preacher on the ground willing to preach, from the presiding elder, John Sale, down. Seeing we had fallen on evil times, my spirit was stirred within me. I said to the elder, “I feel a clear conscience, for under the necessity of the circumstances we have done right, and now I ask to let me preach.”
“Do,” said the elder, “for there is no other man on the ground can do it.”
The encampment was lighted up, the trumpet blown. I rose in the stand, and required every soul to leave the tents and come into the congregation. There was a general rush to the stand. I requested the brethren, if ever they prayed in all their lives, to pray now. My voice was strong and clear, and my preaching was more of an exhortation and encouragement than anything else. My text was, “The gates of hell shall not prevail.”
In about thirty minutes the power of God fell on the congregation in such a manner as is seldom seen; the people fell in every direction, right and left, front and rear. It was supposed to be no less than three hundred fell like dead men in mighty battle; and there was no need of calling mourners, for they were strewed all over the camp-ground; loud wailings went up to heaven from sinners for mercy, and a general shout from Christians, so that the noise was heard afar off. Our meeting lasted all night, and Monday and Monday night; and when we closed on Tuesday, there were two hundred who had professed religion, and about that number joined the Church.