The Great Awakening had shattered ecclesiastical monopoly.
Richard Reggie Smith Research/Editor Creative Commons Attribution (CC BY) 4.0
The Great Revival of the 1700s—better known as the First Great Awakening—did not arrive in Cheshire as a single thunderclap. It unfolded over decades, reshaping the town’s religious life, fracturing families, and eventually entangling faith with revolution. What began in the 1730s as a theological dispute ended, by the 1780s, as a political reckoning.
In 1724, Samuel Hall was ordained minister of the West Society of Wallingford (the parish that would
become Cheshire in 1780). A Yale graduate and firm supporter of the Saybrook Platform, Hall embodied Connecticut’s “Standing Order”—the state-supported Congregational system often called the “Land of Steady Habits.”
Church and government were intertwined. Taxes supported the local minister. Religious dissent was not merely theological; it was civic defiance.
In August 1739, as revival currents began stirring across New England, Deacon Joseph Ives quietly resigned his office—an unusual and telling act. The town’s spiritual consensus was beginning to crack.
The Awakening and the Tax Revolt (1740–1742)
By the early 1740s, the First Great Awakening swept through Connecticut. Itinerant preachers such as George Whitefield and the more radical James Davenport denounced established ministers as “unconverted” and “blind guides.”
Cheshire divided into two camps:
Old Lights: Supporters of Hall, defenders of order and hierarchy.
New Lights: Revivalists who emphasized emotional conversion and “heart religion.”
In 1741, dissent turned legal. Fifteen Cheshire men—including Matthew Bellamy, Thomas Ives, Phineas Ives, Ebenezer Blakesley, John Bellamy, Aaron Tuttle, and others—petitioned the Bishop of London, claiming persecution for conscience’s sake. They objected to paying the mandatory minister’s tax to Hall, calling it “tyrannical and unjust.”
Matthew Bellamy became emblematic of the revolt. Sued repeatedly for nonpayment, he briefly faced imprisonment. Ironically, his son, Joseph Bellamy, would become one of New England’s leading New Light theologians.
In response to revivalist incursions, Connecticut passed the 1742 Anti-Itinerancy Act, restricting outside preachers from entering parishes without permission—a direct effort to contain the New Light movement.
Liturgical Battles and the Wallingford Controversy (1750s)
Conflict persisted. In 1756, even the adoption of Isaac Watts’ psalm translations ignited division: 79 voted in favor; 37 opposed. Nearly one-third of the congregation resisted what they viewed as modern innovation. A durable opposition faction had formed.
In 1758, tensions deepened during the “Wallingford Controversy.” When the neighboring church sought to ordain James Dana, Hall and the regional Consociation objected, branding Dana an “Arminian.” The local church proceeded anyway. A pamphlet war followed, with dissenters accusing church councils of “usurping authority.” Communion between factions ceased for years.
The Episcopal Alternative and St. Peter’s (1760)
Exhausted by Old Light rigidity and New Light fervor, some residents sought a third path: Anglicanism. Under Connecticut law, membership in the Church of England allowed parishioners to redirect their taxes away from the Congregational minister.
In 1760, Cheshire’s Episcopal Society formally organized, building what would become St. Peter's Episcopal Church near the town center. Its proximity to the Congregational meetinghouse symbolized the end of monopoly.
Leadership came from figures such as Ichabod Camp and Samuel Andrews, the latter a Yale graduate who converted to Anglicanism and served the region.
By the 1760s, Cheshire had moved from religious uniformity to pluralism—a profound transformation.
Revolution and Suspicion (1776–1777)
The Revolution transformed theological division into political suspicion. Because the King of England was head of the Anglican Church, Cheshire’s Episcopalians were viewed as potential Loyalists.
In 1776, being an Anglican could invite scrutiny. Reverend Samuel Andrews was placed under house arrest and forbidden to pray publicly for the King. Episcopal services fell silent or moved into private homes.
Some Loyalists hid in the rocky refuge known as the Tory Den, high on Mount Sanford along what is now the Quinnipiac Trail. Families such as the Beaches and Atwaters were associated with these refuges. Others faced confiscation of livestock and grain by Patriot committees.
In April 1777, Wallingford (including Cheshire parish) voted to secure the estates of “inimical persons.” Among those singled out:
Abiathar Camp — ordered to depart; later fled to Nova Scotia.
Zachariah Ives — placed under surveillance.
Reverend Samuel Andrews — confined and later exiled.
Ralph Isaacs — interned under local supervision.
Taxes for suspected Loyalists were doubled. Some families absconded to British lines in New York or resettled in New Brunswick after the war.
Aftermath and Legacy
By the war’s end, Cheshire was no longer the tightly bound Congregational parish it had been in 1724. The Great Awakening had shattered ecclesiastical monopoly, normalized dissent, and fostered a culture willing to question authority—spiritual and political alike.
In 1780, Cheshire became a separate town. Religious pluralism endured. The Episcopal congregation survived wartime suspicion, eventually erecting the present St. Peter’s building in 1840.
What began as arguments over conversion, psalms, and ministerial taxes evolved into a broader lesson: once a community learns to challenge its pulpit, it may soon challenge its crown.
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