One such voice crying in the wilderness was that of John Chapman, the woodsman and tree planter better known as Johnny Appleseed. Born in Massachusetts in 1774, he became a living legend on the American frontier, walking thousands of miles across Pennsylvania, Ohio, and Indiana not only to plant apple trees but to spread the spiritual teachings of Emmanuel Swedenborg. Chapman was a follower of the eminent Swedish scientist and mystic whose philosophy inspired generations after his death in 1772. He had converted to the Swedenborgian church, called the Church of the New Jerusalem (or just New Church), while living in Pennsylvania. Although he was a businessman who sold seedlings and saplings to the pioneers, Chapman also was a pacifist, vegetarian, and deeply religious man who distributed Swedenborg’s texts all across the frontier. Upon arriving at a settlement, Chapman would shout, “News! Fresh from heaven!” as he handed out chapters of the books and collected pages that had already been read. When he was invited into a local home to spend the night, he would sit around the fire extolling the virtues of his faith.
Chapman probably told his hosts about Swedenborg’s great renown as a clairvoyant back in his native land, how in 1759 the seer had remotely viewed Stockholm in flames from 250 miles away—long before couriers could deliver news of the fire. Swedenborg believed that, in addition to this psychic gift, he had been specially chosen as a channel for communication with spirits of dead human beings that inhabited various rungs of heaven and hell. In his view, dead souls abiding in heaven had an existence much the same as they had on Earth except they now were not burdened by sin. This spiritual world was reflected in the physical world; everyday things harbored a deeper hidden meaning. The Bible, too, contained symbolic meanings and could be interpreted in a radically different way by considering the correspondences woven into its language. Above all, the “good news” Chapman was spreading was Swedenborg’s promise that salvation was open to all, that people had some measure of control over their final destiny. In fact, it would be the recently dead individual, rather than God, who would review earthly deeds and judge him or herself accordingly. This was a message that spiritualists would embrace in due time.
Chapman had begun his wanderings in Ohio as early as 1801. He refined his business practices into what became a familiar ritual: he would collect seeds from commercial cider presses, identify places in the wilderness that he thought would be settled in a year or two, and plant orchards in those areas. Though he often lived in the forest with little shelter, Chapman sometimes built cabins or bought property to use as a base for his operations or simply as an investment. For three decades he owned land in eight Ohio counties and planted apple orchards in nearly twice that number. Even more important, in his eyes, was his influence in establishing Swedenborgian societies; although this faith would never become widespread in the state or the nation, Ohio by 1843 had several hundred members of the Swedenborgian church.
In Meigs County the fruits of Chapman’s spiritual labor were seen in the Grant family, converts who entertained the holy man at their home and established a Swedenborgian congregation inspired by his teachings. Apparently no such society existed in neighboring Athens County, but Chapman did travel through the area, often stopping to spend the night at the Dover Township farm of Abraham Pugsley, a Baptist minister. Local tradition has it that Chapman planted his last orchard in southeastern Ohio on Elder Pugsley’s land before moving his operations farther west. If his path had ever crossed that of Jonathan Koons, they could have passed many lively hours parsing theology in addition to mulling the finer points of growing apples. Chapman’s twin legacies would linger in southeastern Ohio for decades after his 1845 death in Indiana.
While Chapman was bringing a mystical strain of Christianity to the area, he might have encountered the Reverend James Quinn, a Methodist missionary based in Marietta who traversed the wilds on his horse, Wilks. In December 1799 Quinn had made his first pass through the Hockhocking Valley, preaching at any settlements he could find. Although he enjoyed comfortable lodgings in Athens, he endured many lonely hours on the trail, once carving his name on a beech tree after taking a solitary meal of “pone and meat.” After several years as a circuit rider, Quinn helped organize what was likely the first camp meeting in Athens County—a four-day affair that drew excited participants with its evangelical style of preaching and singing. Methodist societies eventually formed in Athens and Alexander Townships, cementing that denomination’s influence in the area.
Just a year or two after the town of Athens was incorporated in 1811, the Methodists built a brick church in the village. The Presbyterians followed with their own building in 1828, having previously worshipped at the courthouse. Although they were several years behind the Methodists in actual church construction, the Presbyterians were highly influential. At least three presidents of Ohio University were ordained ministers of that faith, as were many faculty members.
The elders of the Presbyterian church took their duties seriously, disciplining members of the congregation who drank to excess, neglected prayers, questioned religious doctrines, or committed fornication or adultery. In 1828 the elders set their sights on Samuel Baldwin Pruden and his wife, Mary Cranston Pruden. Baldwin at age 30 was an enterprising merchant and miller who was developing the Bingham mill in Athens as a wool-carding operation. Within a few years he would make his fortune by establishing his own flax oil, grist, and saw mill, and a saltworks just south of Athens. Mary was the daughter of a well-to-do family in New York State and a descendant of two colonial governors of Rhode Island. As a youth she had survived a harrowing voyage down the rain-swollen Ohio River, during which she was nearly swept away by a flash flood, before reaching Athens on foot.
In the spring of 1828 Baldwin Pruden was brought before the Session, the governing body of the local Presbyterians, for failing to attend services for more than a year. When questioned by the church elders, he said “he disbelieved the authenticity of the Holy Scriptures and that he did not believe in the future punishment of the wicked.” He was excommunicated on May 10, 1828, “until he manifest repentance.”
Mary Pruden may have continued to attend services after the ouster of her husband, but her adherence to church doctrine was also suspect. The contrary ideas entertained by the couple were thought to stem from their reading of the New Harmony (Indiana) Gazette. New Harmony, founded in 1814, was a utopian community in southwestern Indiana that sought an egalitarian lifestyle for all its residents. The Scottish industrialist Robert Owen, who was widely regarded as an infidel, had purchased the town in 1825. The newspaper, edited by his son Robert Dale Owen, provided a platform for free thinking—questioning the norms of society that most people took for granted. The paper weighed in on slavery, women’s right to divorce, child labor, free education, and other reform issues. Above all, the paper challenged the very pillars of religious orthodoxy.
“Our ancestors drowned old women for a knowledge of witchcraft and burnt heretics, because they were guilty of heterodox sentiments,” an 1827 editorial noted, “and we, their successors, if we have lessened the punishment, have not become more rational in our accusations. In the nineteenth century, we accuse our fellow-men of candor, and impeach them of sincerity. An atheist is a blameless character so long as he dissembles; but let him be guilty of honesty, and his character is lost.”
A stubborn dalliance with this newspaper continued to cause problems for the Prudens. Just a month after her husband’s removal from the church, Mary Pruden was called to answer similar charges. “We charge you with questioning the truth of some parts of the Holy Scriptures—Expressing doubts about some of the leading doctrines of the Gospel—and industriously propagating infidel principles from a certain weekly paper called the New Harmony Gazette,” the indictment declared. Mary Pruden pleaded not guilty.
A formal trial commenced on July 19 with the Reverend Robert G. Wilson presiding. Wilson was pastor of the church as well as president of Ohio University. The jury of six elders was made up of male church members of high standing in Athens—four merchants, a lawyer, and a justice of the peace. At Mary Pruden’s request, the lawyer, Joseph Dana, was allowed to assist in her defense. She also asked questions of the