The second century, like the first, opened with fierce ecclesiastical
tumult. Whitefield's itineracy, like the blazing cross in the Lady of
the Lake, was the signal for an uprising. Fired by his passionate
oratory, the masses revolted from the chill formalism of a dead
ministry. The effect of the excitement which pervaded New England, when
considered merely as an appetizer of the intellect, can not be
over-estimated, and the vigor which the colonial mind thus acquired
astonished in an after day the dullards of the British Parliament. The
chief throb was felt in Connecticut, where strolling preachers of a new
order held forth in barns and school-houses. Among these imitators of
Whitefield were some men of high character, such as Tennant and Finley
(afterwards president of Nassau Hall, Princeton), while others were
frenzied enthusiasts. Davenport, the chief of these, was 'a
heavenly-minded youth,' whose usefulness was wrecked by fanaticism. In
his journey he was attended by one whom he called his armor-bearer, and
their entrance into each village was signaled by a loud hymn sung by the
excited pair. The very tone in which Davenport preached has been
perpetuated by his admirers; it was a nasal twang, which had great
effect. A law was passed against those irregularities, and Davenport was
thrown into Hartford jail, where he sang hymns all night, to the great
admiration of his friends. On being released he went to Lyme, where,
after sermon, a bonfire of idols was made, to which the women
contributed their ornaments and fine dresses, and the men their vain
books. This religious movement was marred by much evil; yet its fruits,
as we have stated, were found in that mental strength which subsequently
bore the brunt of the Revolution. Its excited scenes are hit off by such
reports as these,--'Sally Sparhawk fell and was carried out of meeting;'
this statement being frequently repeated. The style of preaching in
vogue may be imagined when we read of Tennant's appearance in the