American Crossroads: Teaching History on the Great Plains

Brantz Mayer Visit to Harpers Ferry, 1856

“The Potomac, at this point, is a third of a mile wide, and foams over a bed of ledges crossing it at right angles like so many fractured barriers, denoting the conflict between the ridge and river when it burst through the hills. Such, with few intermissions, is the character of scenery from the Point of Rocks to Harper’s Ferry, which is built on a narrow, declivitous tongue, lying directly in the confluence of the Shenandoah and Potomac, and washed on either side by those noble streams. The railway reaches it by a stupendous curving bridge of nine hundred feet over the latter; and as the mountain steeps converge precipitously at all points about the gap, but small space is left for building with accessible convenience. Nearly all the level river-margin has been used for the National Armory, so that the town scrambles picturesquely among the upland bluffs, till the hill-top, like the end of all things, is terminated by the groves and monuments of a cemetery.

Our first visit was to the Armory, where we were introduced to all the mysteries in this wonderful assemblage of contrivances for death. Every thing was exhibited and set in motion—from the ponderous tilt-hammers, which weld steel into solidity, down to the delicate operations by which the impulse of a hair can put these terrible engines in action. I was soon struck by the fact that, after all, it is not so easy to kill a man—especially, if we consider the intricate preparations which have to be made in constructing weapons for human slaughter. We learned that a musket consists of forty-nine pieces, and that the number of operations in completing one—each of which is separately catalogued and valued—amount to three hundred and forty-six; all, in some degree, requiring different trades and various capacities for execution; so that, perhaps, no man, or no two men in the establishment, could perform the whole of them in manufacturing a perfect weapon!

I confess that, with but little turn for mechanical science, most of these complicated machines were rather surprising than comprehensible to me; so that, while my companions strolled through the apartments in quest of instruction, I followed leisurely in their rear, rather grieving than glorying in the inventive skill that had been lavished on their construction under national auspices. It may be considered more sentimental than practical in the present belligerent state of mankind, to doubt the wisdom of making military preparations under the amiable name of “defense,” yet I have never been able to understand why it should not be “constitutional” to create as well as to kill, and to make a sickle as well as a sword! Why it is that political law allows millions for the belongings of war, and denies a dollar to those genial arts which, in ten years, would do more for the progress of humanity than centuries of traditionary force have effected for its demoralization? Nay, how much more beneficially would these hundreds of workmen be employed, if government devoted their labor to the manufacture of such unpicturesque instruments as hoes, spades, rakes, axes, pitchforks, plows, and reaping machines; and if the army, which is to wield the perilous weapons that are strewn in every direction, were transmuted, under national patronage, into cultivators of those “homesteads” which politicians so cheaply vote them! But, alas! the soldier is epic, and the farmer only pastoral, and pageantry beats homeliness all the world over!

These lackadaisical fancies floated through my mind as I walked over the half mile or armory; and I hope I may not be set down as “too progressive” or “Utopian,” if I divulge them in this public confessional.

It was noon when we left the Armory and climbed to the fragment of Jefferson’s Rock, which affords the best coup d’oeil of this celebrated scenery. It was a fatiguing tramp under a mid-day sun, but we found a breeze singing down the gorge of the Shenandoah when we rested under the old pine-tree among the cliffs. The rock itself is of very little interest, except for its association with Mr. Jefferson’s name, and its remarkable poise on a massive base. The drawing at the beginning of this article presents an accurate view of the whole scene. From the gap between the fragments the prospect combines the grand and beautiful in a wonderful degree. Beyond the brow of the hill very little of the town is seen to disfigure the original features of the prospect, so that the wilderness of mountain, forest, and water may still be as freshly enjoyed as they were by the earliest travelers. Indeed it is impossible for language to sketch the spirit of the spot more vividly than is done in the bold penciling of Jefferson. “You stand,” says he, “on a very high point of land; on your right comes up the Shenandoah, having ranged the foot of the mountain a hundred miles to seek a vent; on your left approaches the Potomac in quest of a passage also. In the moment of their junction they rush together against the mountain, rend it asunder, and pass off to the sea.” In a few distinct words of outline we have the geology and geography of the spot before us; but when the sun is lower and the shadows broader than at the time of our visit, so as to impart variety of tone and effect to the scene, it is difficult to conceive a wilder prospect than the mountains forming the gap, or a more placid landscape than that which waves away beyond it, till hill, forest, and river fade in the east. There is a remarkable contrast between the roughness of the foreground and the pastoral quiet of the distance, so that the very landscape seems to teach the need and harmony of repose after struggle.

Source: Extract from Brantz Mayer. "A June Jaunt," Harper’s New Monthly Magazine, April 1857.

John Brown to Mass. Legislature

John Brown to Mary Ann Brown

November 8, 1859

Charlestown Jefferson Co. Va:
8th Nov 1859

Dear Wife & Children Every One

I will begin by saying that I have in some degree recovered from my wounds; but that I am yet quite weak in my back & sore about my left Kidney. My appetite has been quite good for most of the time since I was hurt. I am supplied with almost Every thing I could desire to make me comfortable, and the little that I do lack (some few articles of clothing which I lost) I may perhaps soon get again. I am besides quite cheerful having (as I trust) the peace of God which passeth all understanding" to "rule in my heart" and the testimony (in some degree) of a good conscience that I have not lived altogether in vain. I can trust God with both the time and the manner of my death; believing as I now do that for me at this time to seal my testimony (for God & humanity) with my blood, will do vastly more toward advancing the cause I have Earnestly Endeavored to promote, than all I have done in my life before. I beg of you all meekly and quietly to submit to this; not feeling yourselves to be in the least degraded on that account. Remember dear wife and children all, that Jesus of Nazareth suffered a most Excruciating death on the cross as a felon - under the most aggravating circumstances. Think also of the prophets, and apostles and Christians of former days, who went through greater tribulations than you or I: and (try) to be reconciled. May God Almighty comfort all your hearts, and soon wipe away all tears from your eyes. To him be endless praise. Think too of the crushed millions "who have no comforter." I charge you all - never (in your trials) to forget the griefs "of the poor that cry and of those that have none to help them." I wrote most Earnestly to my dear and afflicted wife not to come on for the present at any rate. I will now give you my reasons for doing so. First it would use up all the scanty means she has or is at all likely to have to make herself and children comfortable hereafter. For let me tell you that the sympathy that is now aroused in your behalf may not always follow you. There is but little more of the romantic about helping poor widows and their children than there is about trying to relieve poor "niggers." Again the little comfort it might afford us to meet again, would be dearly bought by the pains of final seperation [sic]. We must part, and I feel assured; for us to meet under such dreadful circumstances would only add to our distress. If she comes on here she must be only a gazing stock throughout the whole journey, to be remarked upon in every look, word and action by all sorts of creatures and by all sorts of papers throughout the whole country, again it is my most decided judgement that in quietly and submissively staying at home vastly more of generous sympathy will reach her; without such dreadful sacrifice of feeling as she must put up with if she comes on. The visits of one or two female friends that have come on here have produced great Excitement which is very annoying: and they cannot possibly do me any good. O Mary do not come, but patiently wait for the meeting (of those who love God and their fellow men) where no seperation [sic] must follow. "They shall go no more but forever" - I greatly long to hear from some one of you, and to learn any thing that in any way affects your welfare. I sent you $10. the other day; did you get it? I have also endeavored to stir up Christian friends to visit you and write to you in your deep affliction. I have no doubt that some of them at least will heed the call. Write to me, care of Capt. John Avis, Charlestown Jefferson Co. Va: "Finally my beloved be of good comfort." May all your names be "written in the Lambs book of life" - May you all have the purifying and sustaining influence of the Christian religion - is the Earnest prayer of your affectionate husband and Father.

John Brown

P. S. I cannot remember a night so dark as to have hindered the coming day: nor a storm so furious or dreadful as to prevent the return of warm sunshine and a cloudless sky. But beloved ones do remember that this is not your rest; that in this world you have no abiding place or continuing city. To God and his infinite mercy I always commend you.

Ever Yours
J. B.

To the Friends of Freedom.

New York Tribune
March 4, 1857

The undersigned, whose individual means were exceedingly limited when he first engaged in the struggle for liberty in Kansas, being now still more destitute, and no less anxious than in time past to continue his efforts to sustain that cause, is induced to make this earnest appeal to the friends of freedom throughout the United States, in the firm belief that his call will not go unheeded. I ask all honest lovers of liberty and human rights, both male and female, to hold up my hands by contributions of pecuniary aid, either as counties, cities, towns, villages, societies, churches, or individuals. I will endeavor to make a judicious and faithful application of all such means as I may be supplied with. Contributions may be sent in drafts to W. H. D. Callender, cashier State Bank, Hartford, Conn. It is my intention to visit as many places as I can during my stay in the States, provided I am first informed of the disposition of the inhabitants to aid me in my efforts, as well as to receive my visit. Information may be communicated to me (care of Massasoit House) at Springfield, Mass. Will editors of newspapers friendly to the cause kindly second the measure, and also give this some half-dozen insertions? Will either gentlemen or ladies, or both, who love the cause, volunteer to take up the business? It is with no little sacrifice of personal feeling that I appear in this manner before the public.

JOHN BROWN.

Source: F. B. Sanborn, ed., The Life and Letters of John Brown. Boston: Roberts Brothers, 1891., pp. 379-80

The John Brown Song (courtesy of West Virginia State Archives)

New York Semi-Weekly Tribune

December 6, 1859.

JOHN BROWN’S EXECUTION.

THE EXECUTION OF CAPT. BROWN

From Our Special Correspondent.
Baltimore, Dec. 3, 1859.

Telegraphing from Charlestown or Harper’s Ferry to The Tribune being out of the question, I am forced to lose a day and write from this place. The execution was in the highest degree imposing and solemn, and without disturbance of any kind. Lines of patrols and pickets encircled the field for ten miles around, and over five hundred troops were posted all about the gallows. At 7 o’clock in the morning workmen began to erect the scaffold, the timber having been hauled the night previous. At 8 troops began to arrive. Troopers were posted around the field at fifty feet apart, and two lines of sentries further in. The troops did not form hollow around the gallows, but were so disposed as to command every approach. The sun shone brightly, and the picture presented to the eye was really splendid. As each company arrived it took its alloted position. On the easterly side were the cadets, with their right wing flanked by a detachment of men with howitzers; on the northeast, the Richmond Grays; on the south, Company F of Richmond; on the north, the Winchester Continentals, and, to preserve order in the crowd, the Alexandria Rifleman and Capt. Gibson’s Rockingham Company were stationed at the entrance gate, and on the outskirts. At 11 o’clock the procession came in sight, and at once all conversation and noise ceased. A dead stillness reigned over the field, and the tramp of the approaching troops alone broke the silence. The escort of the prisoner was composed of Capt. Scott’s company of cavalry, one company of Major Loring’s battalion of defencibles, Capt. Williams’s Montpelier Guard, Capt. Scott’s Petersburg Grays, Company D, Capt. Miller, of the Virginia Volunteers, and Young Guard, Capt. Rady, the whole number the command of Col. T. P. August, assisted by Major Loring–the cavalry at the head and rear of the column.

The prisoner sat upon the box which contained his coffin, and, although pale from confinement, seemed strong. The wagon in which he rode was drawn by two white horses. From the time of leaving jail until he mounted the gallows stairs he wore a smile upon his countenance, and his keen eye took in every detail of the scene. There was no blenching nor the remotest approach to cowardice or nervousness. His remarks have not been correctly reported in the Baltimore and New-York papers. As he was leaving jail, when asked if he thought he could endure his fate, he said, “I can endure almost anything but parting from friends; that is very hard.” On the road to the scaffold, he said, in reply to an inquiry, “It has been a characteristic of me from infancy not to suffer from physical fear. I have suffered a thousand times more from bashfulness than from fear.” On entering the field he said, as if surprised, “I see all persons are excluded from the field except the military.” I was very near the old man, and scrutinized him closely. He seemed to take in the whole scene at a glance, and he straightened himself up proudly, as if to set to the soldiers an example of a soldier’s courage. The only motion he made, beyond a swaying to and fro of his body, was that same patting of his knees with his hands that we noticed throughout his trial and while in jail. As he came upon an eminence near the gallows, he cast his eyes over the beautiful landscape and followed the windings of the Blue Ridge Mountains in the distance. He looked up earnestly at the sun and sky, and all about, and then remarked, “This is a beautiful country. I have not cast my eye over it before–that is, while passing through the field.” The cortege passed half around the gallows to the east side, where it halted. The troops composing the escort took up their assigned position, but the Petersburg Grays, as the immediate body guard, remained as before, closely hemming in the prisoner. They finally opened ranks to let him pass out, when, with the assistance of two men, he descended from the wagon, bidding good by to those within it; and then, with firm step and erect form, he strode past Jailor, Sheriff, and officers, and was the first person to mount the scaffold steps. He then looked about him, principally in the direction of the people, in the far distance. Then to Capt. Avis, his jailor, he said, “I have no words to thank you for all your kindness to me.” To Sheriff Campbell he remarked, “Let there be no more delay than is necessary.” His black slouched hat was then removed, his elbows and ankles were pinioned, and the white hood was drawn over his head. The Sheriff requested him to step forward on the trap. He said, “You have put this thing over my head and I cannot see; you must lead me.” There are eight minutes of suspense, while the stupid cavalry are trying to find their proper position. Impatient at the delay, Col. Scott gives the signal, Sheriff Campbell severs the rope with his hatchet, the trap falls with a horrid screech of its hinges, and the unfortunate man swings off into the air.

There was but one spasmodic effort of the hands to clutch at the neck, but for nearly five minutes the limbs jerked and quivered. He seemed to regain an extraordinary hold upon life. One who had seen numbers of men hung before told me [he] had never seen so hard a struggle. After the body had dangled in mid air for twenty minutes, it was examined by the surgeons for signs of life. First the Charlestown physicians went up and made their examination, and after them the military surgeons, the prisoner being executed by the civil power and with military assistance as well. To see them lifting up the arms, now powerless, that once were so strong, and placing their ears to the breast of the corpse, holding it steady by passing an arm around it, was revolting in the extreme.

And so the body dangled and swung by its neck, turning to this side or that when moved by the surgeons, and swinging, pendulum like, from the force of the south wind that was blowing, until, after thirty-eight minutes from the time of swinging off, it was ordered to be cut down, the authorities being quite satisfied that their dreaded enemy was dead. The body was lifted upon the scaffold and fell into a heap as limp as a rag. It was then put into the black walnut coffin, the body guard closed in about the wagon, the cavalry led the van, and the mournful procession moved off.

Throughout the whole sad proceeding the utmost order and decorum reigned. I think that when the prisoner was on the gallows, words in ordinary tones might have been heard all over the forty-acre field. In less than fifteen minutes the whole military force had left the field of execution, a dozen sentries alone, perhaps, remaining. The townspeople having been kept at a considerable distance, and none from the country about being allowed to approach nearer than a mile, there were not, I think, counting soldiers and civilians, more than a thousand spectators. A great felling of exasperation prevails in consequence of this foolish stringency, and it is a wonder than conflicts have not arisen between the citizens and their protectors.

John Brown, although at times willing to argue with the local clergy upon religious matters, has absolutely rejected all appearance of spiritual comfort at their hands, even maintaining that those who were capable of countenancing Slavery, were not fit to come between him and his God. The other day, he said, that instead of any clergyman of Charlestown, if they would suffer him to be followed to the place of execution by a family of little negro children, headed by a pious slave mother, it would be all he would ask. The New-York Herald reports him to have said when told that his wife could not remain with him more than three or four hours, “I want this favor from the State of Virginia.” This is incorrect, for with the same contemptuous independence which he has ever displayed, he said, proudly, “Oh, I don’t ask any favors of the State of Virginia, You must do your duty.” When the husband and wife parted, she shed some tears, but the old hero, patting her on the shoulder, said, “Mary, this is not right. Show that you have nerves.” She is said to have straightened herself up as if electrified, and wept no more. The body left Charlestown under escort in the afternoon, and at Harper’s Ferry was delivered up to Mrs. Brown.

Like a string that snaps after great tension, the public mind at Charlestown seemed relieved the moment that the body had been returned to the jail. The extra sentries were called in, and people were suffered once more to pass in and out of town with tolerable freedom. The dread is not all removed yet, however, for every night mysterious lights are seen to shoot up, in the direction of Harper’s Ferry, which are answered elsewhere. Despite all vigilance and search, no cause can be assigned, and it is, therefore, believed that parties of rescuers are patiently biding their time to take revenge, when fancied security once more prevails. It is said that there can be no shadow of doubt that large bodies of armed men have been hovering very near to Charlestown, and the remaining prisoners are guarded with the most jealous vigilance. Yesterday morning orders were issued that no more visitors shall be admitted to the prisoners, they having implored the authorities to give them their little remaining time for reflection.

Independent Democrat Articles
on John Brown Raid

October 25, 1859

DARING ABOLITION FORAY!

OUTRAGEOUS ATTEMPT TO ABDUCT SLAVES FROM JEFFERSON COUNTY, VIRGINIA.

The Soil of Virginia Stained with the blood of her Citizens in Attempting to Defend their Firesides from Rapine and Robbery.

THE INFERNAL DESPERADOES CAUGHT, AND THE VENGEANCE OF AN OUTRAGED COMMUNITY ABOUT TO BE APPEASED.

About midnight of Sunday John Brown, with his force amounting, as they say, to 22 crossed the Potomac Bridge with a one-horse covered wagon, containing their guns, picks &c. They immediately seized Patrick Higgins, the watchman at the Bridge, who gave one of the party a blow and made his escape, informing the Conductor of the night train of Cars, Capt. Phelps. They then endeavored to induce Hayward, the free colored watchman of the Railroad Office to take up arms and join them in their nefarious purposes. Upon his refusing to do so, they immediately shot him. He was a valuable fellow, whose life was worth more than all the bandit, as he was trusted with everything in the Depot.

Sixteen of them taking possession of the Armory and Arsenal, the others repaired to the residence of Col. L. W. Washington, near Halltown, in this county, and after arousing him from his bed, with pointed rifles, demanded his surrender, and that of his negroes, &c. From thence they proceeded to the residence of Mr John H. Alstadtt, living on the turnpike, and made a similar demand. They then returned to Harpers Ferry, and placed their captives in the Government Watchhouse.

The insurgents having cut the telegraph wires, and stationed themselves at various points prevented further entrances in the public square. Mr. Thomas Burley, being seen with a gun was shot by a negro sentinel from the corner of one of the Arsenal buildings. The ball passed through is body killing him almost instantly. This negro fellow was afterwards shot.

Capt. John Avis of this town formed a company of 20 men who were posted in front of the Arsenal. Capt. Botts was detached with 20 volunteers, who took possession in front of the “Galt House,” in the rear of the Arsenal. Capt. Rowan’s Guards crossed the Potomac River and took possession of the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad Bridge. The citizens of the place, without any regular command, took other stations of the town, thereby cutting off all retreat.

The firing then commenced. Capt. Avis forced the door of the Arsenal with a gun taken from the hands of Mr. Leonard Sadler, of this town, one of the Soldiers of 1812. The fire becoming too warm, the insurgents fled to the watch house. Before they abandoned the Arsenal ground, and before the charge was made upon them, George W. Turner, Esq., one of our most estimable and valuable citizens, was shot as he was passing down High street. He died in a short time afterwards.

The citizens made gallant charges at both works of the Armory. At the Rifle Factory the rebels were driven into the river. One was taken prisoner and three shot. A negro man of Col. Washington was drowned in his effort to escape. He had been forced to take up arms.

Thus having been driven from every point, they were virtually whipt, as none were left but those in the watch house, who were anxious to capitulate as they were hemmed up and cut off from every avenue of escape. Their terms of capitulation were that they should be allowed to pass over the Bridge into Maryland with their arms. The response of our officers was an unconditional surrender.

The insurgents had made holes in the watch house, from which points they fired. Fontaine Beckham, Esqr, Agent of the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad, and Mayor of Harpers Ferry, was killed. He was on the Railroad in front of the house. About 5 o’clock the Winchester Contine[n]tal Guards Capt B. B. Washington arrived, and were stationed to guard the upper works. A train of cars from Frederick brought three companies, about 100 strong.

In the morning of Tuesday, about 3 [o]’clock, the military of Baltimore, with the Marine from Washington, arrived so that in 28 hours from the time of alarm we had on the ground 10 companies, numbering upwards of 400, and one company of regulars, 75 strong, besides 1500 citizens. The Alexandria Riflemen, were also present on Tuesday.

On Tuesday morning, Col. Lee stormed the Watch house. One of the Marines was killed, and one slightly wounded. All the insurgents were either killed or wounded.

Out of the whole 22 as stated all have been killed or taken prisoners except Cooke and Taylor.

The negroes, who were captured from our citizens, as soon as an opportunity was presented, made their escape, and returned to their masters much gratified to be able to do so. It is gratifying to know that there is not one of our negroes who would voluntarily take up with these desperadoes

We give below the list of those who were taken prisoners of the marauding party:--and who are now in the Charlestown Jail—

Capt. John Brown, of New York;
Aaron D. Stevens of Con.
Edwin Coppeck, Iowa.
Shields Green (colored) of Harrisburg Pa.
John Copeland (colored) of Obe[r]lin, Ohio.

The following is a description of the assault upon the Engine house, as published in the Baltimore American, whose reporter was eye-witness of the scene:

Shortly after 7 o’clock, on Tuesday morning, Lt. J. E. B. Stuart of the 1st Cavalry, who was acting as aid for Col. Lee, advanced to parley with the besieged, Samuel Strider, Esq., bearing a flag of truce. They were received at the door by Capt Brown—Lieut Stuart demanded an unconditional surrender, only promising them protection from immediate violence, and trial by law. Capt. Brown refused all terms but those previously demanded, which were substantially: “That he should be permitted to march out with his men and arms, taken their prisoners with them; that they should proceed unpursued to the second toll-gate, when they were free their prisoners. The soldiers were then at liberty to pursue and they would fight if they could not escape.” Obviously this was refused and Lieut Stuart pressed upon Brown his desperate position, and urged a surrender. The expostulation though beyond ear-shot, was evidently very earnest, and the coolness of the Lieutenant and the courage of his aged flag bearer, won warm praise.

At this moment the interest of the scene was intense. The volunteers were arranged all around the building, cutting off escape in every direction. The marines divided in two squads, were ready for a dash at the door. Finally, Lieut. Stuart, having exhausted all argument with the determined Capt. Brown, walked slowly from the door. Immediately the signal for attack was given, and the Marines headed by Col. Harris and Lieut. Green advanced in two lines on each side of the door. Two powerful fellows sprang between the lines and with heavy sledge hammers attempted to batter down the door. The door swung and swayed, but appeared to be secured with a rope, the spring of which deadened the effect of the blows. Failing thus to obtain a breach, the marines were ordered to fall back, and twenty of them took hold of a ladder, some forty feet long and advancing at a run, brought it with tremendous force against the door. At the second blow it gave way, one leaf falling inward in a slanting position. The marines immediately advanced to the breach, Major Russell and Lieut. Green leading. A marine in the front fell; the firing from the interior was rapid and sharp, they fired with deliberate aim, and for the moment the resistance was serious and desperate enough to excite the spectators to something like a pitch of frenzy. The next moment the marines poured in, the firing ceased, and the work was done, whilst the cheers rang from every side, the general feeling being that the marines had done their part admirably.

Note: Copy of article is in John Brown Scrapbook, Boyd Stutler, folder 7, Boyd B. Stutler Collection, West Virginia State Archives.

John Brown's Last Prophecy

Charlestown, Va, 2nd, December, 1859

I John Brown am now quite certain that the crimes of this guilty, land: will never be purged away; but with Blood. I had as I now think: vainly flattered myself that withought very much bloodshed; it might be done.

(John Brown's last letter, written on day he hanged. From "John Brown: a Biography," by Oswald Garrison Villard.)



Letter from Mahala Doyle

Altho' vengeance is not mine, I confess that I do feel gratified to hear that you were stopped in your fiendish career at Harper's Ferry, with the loss of your two sons, you can now appreciate my distress in Kansas, when you then and there entered my house at midnight and arrested my husband and two boys, and took them out of the yard and in cold blood shot them dead in my hearing. You can't say you done it to free slaves. We had none and never expected to own one...My son John Doyle whose life I beged of you is now grown up and is very desirous to be at Charlestown on the day of your execution.

(A letter sent to John Brown while in jail. From "To Purge This Land with Blood" by Stephen Oates.)



Letter from Frances Ellen Watkins

Nov. 25, 1859

Dear Friend: Although the hands of Slavery throw a barrier between you and me, and it may not be my privilege to see you in the prison house, Virginia has no bolts or bars through which I dread to send you my sympathy...I thank you that you have been brave enough to reach out your hands to the crushed and blighted of my race. You have rocked the bloody Bastille; and I hope from your sad fate great good may arise to the cause of freedom...

(A letter from Frances Watkins, a free black living in Kendallville, Indiana. From "Freedom's Unfinished Revolution," by William Friedheim and The American Social History Project.)



A Plea for Capt. John Brown

By Henry David Thoreau

I am here to plead his cause with you. I plead not for his life, but for his character, - his immortal life; and so it becomes your cause wholly, and is not his in the least. Some eighteen hundred years ago Christ was crucified; this morning, perchance, Captain Brown was hung. These are the two ends of a chain which is not without its links. He is not Old Brown any longer; his is an angel of light.

(Read to the citizens of Concord, Mass., Sunday Evening, October 30, 1859.)



Richmond "Whig" Newspaper Editorial

Though it convert the whole Northern people, without an exception, into furious, armed abolition invaders, yet old Brown will be hung! That is the stern and irreversible decree, not only of the authorities of Virginia, but of the PEOPLE of Virginia, without a dissenting voice. And, therefore, Virginia, and the people of Virginia, will treat with the contempt they deserve, all the craven appeals of Northern men in behalf of old Brown's pardon. The miserable old traitor and murderer belongs to the gallows, and the gallows will have its own

(Richmond "Whig" newspaper editorial quoted in the "Liberator", Nov. 18, 1859. From "John Brown: a Biography," by Oswald Villard)



John Brown Writes From Jail

Charlestown, Jefferson County, VA, Nov. 1, 1859

My Dear Friend E. B. of R. I. :

You know that Christ once armed Peter. So also in my case, I think he put a sword into my hand, and there continued it, so long as he saw best, and then kindly took it from me. I mean when I first went to Kansas. I wish you could know with what cheerfulness I am now wielding the "Sword of the Spirit" on the right hand and on the left. I bless God that it proves "mighty to the pulling down of strongholds." I always loved my Quaker friends, and I commend to their kind regard my poor, bereaved widowed wife, and my daughters and daughters-in-law, whose husbands fell at my side. One is a mother and the other likely to become so soon. They, as well as my own sorrow-stricken daughter[s], are left very poor, and have much greater need of sympathy than I, who, through Infinite Grace and the kindness of strangers, am "joyful in all my tribulations."

Your friend,

John Brown

(From "John Brown: a Biography," by Oswald Villard)

http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/amex/brown/filmmore/reference/primary/index.html

John Brown and Southern Politics.