Evangelism has a long and strange history in the United States, but there were few evangelists who had a more, ahem, colourful career than the Reverend James Davenport.
Born in Stamford, Connecticut in 1716, Davenport was part of an extremely distinguished Puritan family. His great-grandfather founded the New Haven colony while his father and grandfather were both Puritan pastors. James seemed destined to follow in their footsteps and attended Yale University so that he could be ordained as a minister, Whatever plans he had for a quiet career in the ministry ended when he met the overzealous David Ferris in Yale and became part of his inner circle. Ferris was a radical evangelist who took his inspiration from the evangelical movement that was sweeping parts of Europe and the pre-Revolution American colonies around this time.
Known as the First Great Awakening, Protestant ministers led by George Whitefield in the United Kingdom and Jonathan Edwards in Massachusetts began to reject traditional religious teachings and preached a more personal relationship with God. This also marked a major split in Protestant churches along class lines. While the Evangelists talking about being "born again" and publicly proclaiming their faith, the traditionalists were increasingly disturbed at what was happening at the Evangelist rallies, including screaming, "talking in tongues", fainting spells, and cries of salvation. Although the new Evangelist movement was mainly limited to local revivals in numerous places throughout British North America, at least a few religious leaders were especially prominent, James Davenport among them.
After Davenport graduated from Yale at the age of seventeen (the youngest on record), he went on to complete his religious training so that he could be ordained as a minister. It was somewhere around this time that he developed a "cancry humour" on his leg, likely a severe ulcer, that would plague him for the rest of his life. While staying at the house of the Reverend Jared Eliot, Davenport managed to recover to the point of continuing his religious studies. He credited his recovery to the power of faith and his future vocation seemed even clearer.
Ordained as a minister in 1738, he took up position at a Puritan church in Long Island though he was only twenty-one years old. Meanwhile, momentous things were happening as other Evangelists began preaching the "Good News of salvation" and Davenport became convinced that the Day of Judgment was at hand. Inspired by the success of other Evangelists, Davenport decided that God was calling him to follow their example. As he would later claim, opening his Bible to a passage in which Jonathan and armor-bearer attack the Philistine camp inspired him to launch his crusade in 1741.
This transition from staid minister to fiery evangelist was somewhat, um, abrupt. During one marathon session, he ranted at his congregation for twenty-four hours straight before collapsing. After recovering, he then called on all of his parishioners to make full confessions and chose the most worthy among them to become his formal "brethren" (the less worthy among them were relegated to being called "neighbors"). Though Davenport insisted that it was the Holy Spirit which inspired him to choose who were most likely to be saved, quite a few parishioners were disgruntled to find out they were considered unworthy.
Davenport also tried his hand at faith healing. One mentally ill parishioner who was "distracted and dumb" (possibly catatonic) became a special project for him as he predicted that she would be "delivered and recover her speech" on a given day as a result of his prayers and fasting over her. As it happened, she died on the predicted date though she never recovered her sanity or speech. Not wasting an opportunity, the good reverend insisted that his prayers had been answered and that she had been received into Heaven instead. Quite a few of his parishioners accepted this explanation and managed to get themselves promoted to "brethren" status afterward.
Soon afterward, James Davenport gave up his comfortable congregation and became a traveling preacher, much like his Evangelist heroes. One of his "brethren", Daniel Tuthill, joined him as an assistant. Davenport's new mission depended on recruiting converts by reaching as many people as possible in order to save them before the world ended. His preaching, much like so many of his fellow Evangelists before and since, was filled with descriptions of hellfire, the inherent sinfulness of mankind, and the need for salvation by allowing the Holy Spirit to flow through their hearts so that they could avoid damnation.
With other Evangelists paving the way, whipping congregations into a religious frenzy, Davenport certainly found his share of receptive converts. One media account describes the kind of sermons he gave and the fever of religion he helped inspire:
Divers women were terrified and cried out exceedingly. When Mr. Davenport had dismissed the congregation some went out and others stayed; he then went into the broad alley, which was much crowded and there screamed out, “Come to Christ! Come to Christ! Come Away! Come Away!” Then he went into the third pew on the women’s side, and kept there, sometimes singing, sometimes praying; he and his companions all taking their turns; and the women fainting and in hysterics. This confusion continued until 10:00 at night and then he went off singing through the streets
Not surprisingly, he also had to deal with the numerous enemies he made along the way. Along with converting the unbelieving, he also began attacking other ministers, including some he declared to be "unconverted" after they refused to confess their own sins to him. He declared these uncooperative ministers to be "wolves in sheep's clothing" who were leading their parishioners into "perdition." Considering that a few of his targets were fellow Evangelists, you can imagine the controversy Davenport inspired. Many even refused to allow him to deliver sermons in their churches and Davenport was obliged to conduct his revival meetings out in the open.
Davenport's crusade had mixed success at best. His illustrious family guaranteed him a few sympathetic listeners among the more established communities but he still had an unfortunate tendency to divide entire congregations. The sermons he delivered were, well, provocative. Here is a bit of one of his sermons that one witness described:
"At lenth, he turn’d his Discourse to others, and with the utmost Strength of his Lungs addressed himself to the Congregation, under these and such-like Expressions; viz. You poor unconverted Creatures, in the Seats, in the Pews, in the Galleries, I wonder you don’t drop into Hell! It would not surprise me, I should not wonder at it, if I should see you drop down now, this minute into Hell. You Pharisees, Hypocrites, now, now, now, you are going right into the Bottom of Hell…. Then he came out of the Pulpit, and stripped off his upper Garments, and got into the Seats, and leapt up and down some time, and clapt his Hands, and cried out in those Words, the War goes on, the Fight goes on, the Devil goes down, the Devil goes down; and then betook himself to stamping and screaming most dreadfully.
Even supposedly "converted" ministers quickly regretted inviting him to give guest sermons to their parishioners. When some of them visited him to try to get him to explain himself, he denounced them as "Wolves in Sheep's Clothing" and prayed for their conversion instead.
Still, Davenport was amazingly successful when he went out to preach to Native American tribes and the support he received with Protestants tended to split along class lines. The wealthier merchants and farmers mistrusted this new preacher whom they regarded as a dangerous fanatic but the less well-off townspeople loved his antics. A general court in Connecticut even passed a law in 1741 banning preachers to give sermons to parishes without the express permission of the presiding minister. Davenport promptly broke that law and was arrested soon after.
Appearing before the Connecticut general assembly, Davenport gave his most bizarre performance yet. Certainly, those few available descriptions of James Davenport's bizarre behaviour at his trial seem downright entertaining. According to one news story:
"At one point everyone there heard him "vehemently crying out, That he saw hell-flames slashing in their faces; and that they were now! now! dropping down to hell; and also added, Lord! Thou knowest that there are many in that gallery and in these seats, that are now dropping down to Hell! etc.”
Screaming about persecution, Davenport compared himself to Christ with his own suffering and, when the sheriff tried to eject him, he shouted "Lord! thou knowest somebody’s got hold of my sleeve, strike them! Lord, strike them—". A mob of his supporters quickly gathered and attacked the sheriff and his deputies as they led Davenport to jail.
On the following day, the court concluded that Davenport was insane and deported him from the Connecticut colony. Though supporters tried to stop them, Davenport and his assistant were shipped back to Long Island. Once there, he discovered that his old parishioners were rather tired of his antics and frequent absences. He was basically ordered to stay at home and tend to his own congregation but Davenport was unrepentant. As far as he was concerned, he was one of the leading lights of the new Evangelical movement and his crusade would continue.
By 1742, his crusading had taken him to Boston where a group of ministers promptly ordered him to explain his attacks on fellow preachers. His critics included many Evangelists who refused to allow him to preach to their own parishioners. But this didn't stop him. Instead, he took to the streets and held open-air rallies that would last whole nights. As one Boston newspaper described it:
"Though were you to see him in his most violent Agitations, you would be apt to think, that he was a Madman just broke from his Chaines: But especially had you seen him returning from the Commons after his first preaching, with a large Mob at his heels, singing all the Way thro’ the streets, he with his Hands extended, his Head thrown back, and his Eyes staring up to Heaven, attended with so much Disorder that they look’d more like a company of Bacchanalians after a mad Frolick than sober Christians who had been worshipping God."
People in Boston were forced to put up with Davenport and his disciples singing hymns in the streets at all hours, day or night. Most of these followers were young people, including children, from the less well-off segments of Boston society. Though some of them simply came to watch the antics, Davenport's vicious attacks on fellow clergy proved to be extremely popular. Like everywhere else he went though, Davenport divided Boston society and his exhausted critics finally persuaded Boston magistrates to have him arrested and put on trial.
And what a trial it was!
Davenport was in fine form throughout the hearing, denouncing the unconverted ministers and making grim prophecies about what would happen to them when they faced judgment. His supporters predictably insisted that he was being persecuted though he was extremely well-treated while in jail (his jailors likely worried about mob violence if any reports of abuse got out). The outcome was never really in doubt though. The only two holdouts in the jury were a Quaker and a lay supporter, both of whom objected to the trial being held at all. When the court declared Davenport to be non comp0s mentis, he promptly decamped for a more congenial city. It took a considerable amount of time for things to settle down in Boston afterward and his trial would remain a hot issue for years.
The final saga in James Davenport's strange career occurred in 1743 when he was invited to New London, Connecticut. Despite having already been deported (and risking a heavy fine in the process), Davenport and his chief disciple, Daniel Tuthill, set sail immediately. By this time, Davenport was visibly weaker because of his health problems. He needed Tuthill's help to walk but this hardly deterred him from his mission. On arriving in New London, he preached to his followers about the "Messages which he said, he received from the Spirit in Dreams and otherwise, importing the great Necessity of Mortification and Contempt of the World.”
To accomplish this great goal, Davenport encouraged his followers to throw away any worldly possessions to which they were attached. Along with wigs, fine clothing,artworks, and jewelry, they also had to throw away those books he deemed offensive. To nobody's surprise, this included books by religious authors he regarded as "unconverted", including some of his own fellow Evangelists. These various works were destroyed in two "bonfires of the vanities" in which his followers danced around the flames while these books were still burning.
During the last of these bonfires, Davenport and his followers were reportedly in a state of hysteria as they cast clothing onto the bonfire. According to one account, "ome of them in the heighth of their Zeal, conferred not with Flesh and Blood, but fell to stripping and cast their Cloaths down at their Apostle’s Feet; one or two hesitated about the Matter, and were so bold as to tell him they had nothing on which they idoliz’d: He reply’d, that such and such a Thing was an Offense to him; and they must down with them." Davenport, in his zeal, began stripping off his own clothing, including his breeches which he then threw on the fire. One woman, perhaps a little distressed by this radical act, snatched the breeches from the fire and basically told the good Reverend to restrain himself. This was apparently what broke the spell and made Davenport realize that he had gone too far.
And, that was pretty much it for James Davenport. While his other antics had done little to curb the enthusiasm of his followers, indecent exposure was a bit much even for them. He left town soon afterward and, because of declining health,was taken home to recover. As for the local townspeople who had taken part in the book burnings, they were later charged though most of them just got off with small fines. A council of ministers was held later that year which marked the end of Davenport's crusade, not to mention the Great Awakening itself. While Evangelism still continued, the zeal was somewhat more restrained from that point onward.
As for the Reverend Davenport, he was deeply disturbed by the New London incident and began to wonder whether he had been possessed by God or Satan. His doubts about what he had been doing, not to mention the deep schism he had caused, left him depressed. Though he still believed that the Holy Spirit had spoken to him, he recognized that he he had been too arrogant in denouncing his fellow preachers. By 1744, he had recovered enough to go on a "repentance tour" visiting many of the towns in which he had carried out his most outrageous episodes so he could personally apologize for what he had done.
Still, while he was considerably wiser, his great success as a preacher was largely behind him. His movement broke up and he was largely abandoned by almost everyone, even his "armour bearer" Daniel Tuthill. Though he made a new tour across Connecticut in which he personally apologized to many of the ministers he had previously denounced, the spirit had largely gone out of him. In 1744, he wrote The Confessions and Retractions of James Davenport in which he publicly apologized for much of what he had said in the past and blamed himself for "falling into the Snare of the Devil."
Reaction to Davenport's confession was largely mixed. Some critics argued that he didn't go far enough in apologizing considering the harm he had already done while others were prepared to accept his apology at face value. Davenport resigned his Long Island post and went to a new church in New Jersey where he would spend the rest of his days. Somewhere along the way, he managed to marry and have three children though little else is known about this final period in his life. In 1756, with the outbreak of the Seven Years' War, Davenport made one last proclamation that the war was an omen of the coming Apocalypse, A year later, he was dead at the age of forty-one.
So what can anyone say about James Davenport's legacy? His fervent crusading and his humiliating disgrace can probably serve as a warning for modern evangelists whose outrageous claims have a way of blowing up in their faces. If nothing else, his antics can be considered a prime example of the dangers of hubris (not to mention, ahem, overexposure). Sadly, modern day pundits seem determined to fall into the same trap as Davenport, even if they definitely lack his personal charisma.
In an era of smartphones and social media, embarrassing moments have a way of being recorded for posterity. We may be seeing quite a few "penitence tours" in the years to come.
