This is the first of a series of articles looking at predictions of the "end of the world." Because this is only a portion of the discussion, it may seem that the political aspects are pretty light. Hang on, we'll get there.
In August of 1844, a temporary city appeared on the grassy fields outside Exeter, New Hampshire, near the spot where the fresh waters of the Exeter River spread out into the brackish Squamscott. Hundreds of tents, arrayed in rows and clusters, sprang up in a matter of days. Many were of the same simple design that would serve both soldiers and Cub Scouts for a century to come. Others were much more elaborate structures that would have been at home in a good-sized circus. Some of these tents belonged to individuals; others housed expeditionary forces from entire towns. Groups from Maine and parties from Massachusetts bedded down side by side, and the smoke rising from their morning fires might have been a precursor to camps that would appear two decades later outside of Washington and Richmond.
But the army camped on the fringes of the small manufacturing town was not there to pillage. They were there to sing, to pray, to preach, and to furiously debate theology. Mostly they were there to wonder why the world had not ended, as it was supposed to, the previous spring.
The Millerites were a protestant group that had gone from zero to 100,000 members in a decade. They were named for William Miller, a farmer and Bible enthusiast from that fabulous generator of new faiths, the "burned-over district" of New York. Miller, like many Americans around the time of the Revolution, had spent his early life as deist, believing in a remote God who had little to do with human beings. But following a "foxhole conversion" during the War of 1812, in which he had survived while men all around him died, Miller began to study the Bible, looking for signs and portents. Starting in 1832, Miller published a series of letters in a local Baptist paper. In these letters, Miller first laid out his unique theories about prophetic statements found in the Old Testament book of Daniel. In particular, Miller latched on this verse.
Daniel 8:14 And he answered him, 'For two thousand three hundred evenings and mornings; then the sanctuary shall be restored to its rightful state.'
In reading this section of the book, Miller used a system that was then popular among those seeking to interpret bible prophecies and assumed that each biblical day actually corresponded to a year. By that way of calculating, the passage in Daniel referred to a period of 2300 years. But years from what? To what?
For the start of his period, Miller turned to what was then the most respected chronology of ancient events – the list of biblical dates compiled in 1650 by Church of Ireland Archbishop James Ussher. Ussher had carefully surveyed the lengthy lives attributed to early biblical characters and with a few known dates, strict observation of all those "begats" and a lot of calculation, he set the beginning of the world on 23 October, 4004 BC. His chronology was widely known, and many bibles sold in the 18th and 19th centuries including Ussher's dates as annotations beside biblical events. Though his 4004 date for the beginning of the world is the one most commonly cited today, Ussher's chronology didn't stop there. He put Noah's flood in 2348 BC, pegged the Exodus at 1491 BC, and in the number that would become important for the Millerites, set 457 BC as the year in which Artaxerxes I of Persia had decreed that Jerusalem – and the Temple – should be rebuilt.
Using the date for the construction of the "second temple" as the start, Miller reasoned that the 2300 years would run out in 1843. Then, after a bit of jiggering with the numbers and consultation with the Jewish Rabbinical calendar, he settled on the period from 21 March 1843 to 21 March 1844. That was the date range for the "second advent," the moment when Christ would return and the world would be judged.
The ideas that Miller published spawned interest that grew from a few local meetings into a national movement. Congregations spread rapidly, and the news of the approaching advent spurred Miller's followers to evangelize their beliefs to friends and neighbors. The movement spawned multiple tracts, letters, books, a regular magazine –Signs of the Times and even a daily paper -- The Midnight Cry. When Millerite meetings in some towns became too large to be held in any local building, the group commissioned a massive tent, capable of seating 4,000. As a movement, the Millerites were innovative, inspired, and vigorous. They were also in trouble.
The problem that summer in New Hampshire was that Miller's window of possible dates for the second coming had come and gone. No matter how the dates were nudged, no matter which version of the Jewish calendar was used, the numbers could not be stretched far enough. It's easy to think of a group that started around predictions of the end of the world as being dark and morbid, but the Millerites were known for the excitement with which they spread their message. They were always singing, literally ecstatic about the rapidly approaching advent. But not at this meeting. Among the thousands camped outside Exeter, factions formed, arguments broke out, and tempers ran high.
Millerites had not come from one religious background. Some, like Miller himself, had once been deists. Others had been Baptist, or Methodist, or any of a dozen other denominations. For years they had been united around one idea – the advent – but on the campgrounds at Exeter, divisions reopened. Some tents became full of evangelical fervor, loud songs, and wild shouts. More bookish members of the gathering were appalled at this development, and pressed for order – which only seemed to spur on the activities of their "scandalous" brethren. Everywhere on the field, preachers and lay leaders called for order, tried to make a point, or led groups in solemn prayer. Deprived of the focus provided by Miller's original letters, the movement was falling apart.
Finally, several days into the meeting, Samuel Snow spoke to the crowd. Snow had once been an avowed atheist, and a writer for an atheist newspaper. However, he had read Miller's letters and been converted to the idea of the approaching advent. Two years before the Exeter camp-meeting, Snow had become a Millerite preacher. At that time, he had made some calculations of his own – ones that provided a different date for the end of the age – but they had gathered little attention. At Exeter he stood on a platform and laid out his case again.
According to Snow, the 2300 years since 457 should not start on the announcement of the temple's rebuilding. Instead the clock should have started only when the actual work of rebuilding the temple began. To find this date, Snow went through the biblical book of Ezra, tracing that prophet's journey back to Jerusalem.
Ezra 7:9 -- He had begun his journey from Babylon on the first day of the first month, and he arrived in Jerusalem on the first day of the fifth month, for the gracious hand of his God was on him
Bouncing back to Daniel, Snow then determined that preparations for starting on the temple had taken around two months, and that the actual construction had begun immediately after the "Great Day of Atonement." This gave Snow a new date, one set in the fall. Using his understanding of when the Day of Atonement had taken place, Snow did something that Miller had never done – he singled out an exact date for the advent: 22 October 1844.
Other preachers immediately began to pick holes in Snow's methodology, but the date reassured most Millerites. Not only was it a date that had not already passed them by, but it was a date certain, a specific morning on which they might rise and meet the Lord. The next day, Snow repeated his reasoning for an even larger gathering. By the time the tents were packed up and people began to leave the campground, they carried with them one message – 22 October 1844 was the last day of earth.
Even before Exeter, some of the Millerites had taken actions based on their understanding that time was coming to a rapid close. Some had sold off or given away most of their possessions. Farmers had not bothered to till their fields. After Exeter this kind of behavior became more widespread. Even farmers who had earlier planted now left food rotting in the fields, not bothering to harvest. Factory workers walked away from their tasks and machinists left their shops. Throughout the end of summer and start of autumn, Millerites continued to spread their message. In many towns their meetings were crowded to overflowing and at gatherings across the Northeast Millerites parted with tears and promises that they would see each other next at the great camp meeting along the shores of the heavenly sea.
Those Millerite preachers who had been skeptical of Snow's calculations began to feel the excitement of the hastening date. Even Miller himself, who had resisted setting an exact date, came to adopt Snow's calendar. A new feeling had come over those in the movement, and Miller recognized it. For many, this "tarrying time" before the great day was a period of somber reflection and prayer. It was a time for "stepping away" from worldly things.
There is something in this present waking up different from anything I have ever before seen. This is no great expression of joy; that is, as it were, suppressed for a future occasion… The singers are silent; they are waiting to join the angelic hosts… the general expression is 'Behold the bridegroom cometh, go ye out and meet him.'
William Miller
On 22 October 1844, many Millerites donned white robes that had been created for the occasion. Some Millerites gathered together in worship. Others assembled on hillsides, ready to be swept up into the sky. Some even climbed onto the rooftops of buildings where they could glimpse the approach of Christ. Many remained in their homes, praying and waiting. As midnight approached, the crowds grew quiet.
When the dawn came, the weeping began.
To be continued