Showing posts with label Execution of John Brown. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Execution of John Brown. Show all posts

Wednesday, January 31, 2024

Services for John Brown at Concord, Massachusetts, December 2, 1859

The martyrdom of John Brown was most worthily celebrated at Concord, Massachusetts. The town which inaugurated the first American "Insurrection" was faithful to its traditions in doing honor to the first martyr of the second and the grander Revolution; and, unlike other towns, equally zealous for justice, and equally desirous of doing honor to the merits and memory of John Brown, it possessed more men by nature fit for the occasion, than any other community of the same population in the Union.

The meeting at Concord assembled in the Town Hall at two o'clock in the afternoon, Dec. 2d, and was called to order by the Hon. Simon Brown, who said that on this day Virginia had inflicted on herself a worse blow than all her enemies had ever done or could do; she had, under the forms of law, murdered her truest friend.

Rev. E. H. Sears, of Wayland, offered up the following

PRAYER.

Our Father who art in heaven, we desire at this hour to gather ourselves closer within thine omnipotence and mercy; for when a sense of this world's oppressions and wrongs hangs heavily upon us, to whom shall we go but unto thee? Thou dost unite us to thyself by ties of filial love, and to our fellow-men by the ties of a common brotherhood, for thou hast given us all one human heart. Look down at this hour from thy holy heavens, and extend thy protecting providence another by the hand of Away from the dismal around one who is passing from this world to violence, and from the midst of cruel men. surroundings, away from the scaffold, away from the scoffings and the strife of tongues, open, we beseech thee, a clear pathway to that world where there is no hatred and wrong; where the wicked cease from troubling, and the slave is free from his master. And remember, we pray thee, those whose hearts are now made to break and to bleed those who at this hour are called to widowhood and orphanage; fold them tenderly in the arms of thy providence, and lead them and preserve them. And remember the race who have been trodden down for ages under the heel of oppression and wrong, and let their redemption come. Let those who have passed on through fire and blood, plead for them with thee. Let the blood of all thy martyrs for liberty, from ancient times down to this hour, cry to thee from the ground till the slave rises from his thraldom into the full glory of manhood. And when that day shall come, let it not be through the chaos of revolutions, not by staining this fair earth with the blood of brothers, but let thy spirit descend in its gentleness, and change the heart of the master, and melt off the fetters of the slave. And O, at this dark hour, give us a new consecration of ourselves to the cause of humanity By Him who came from heaven and clothed himself in our nature, the nature of the humblest man that lives, that he might raise it up and glorify it; by him who took up into his experience all the wants and woes of our common humanity; by him who speaks from all thy lowly ones, "Inasmuch as ye did it to one of the least of these, ye did it unto me," — by all these motives may we take with fresh zeal the vow of self-devotion to the cause of God and man. And to thee, in Jesus Christ, be all the glory forever. Amen.

This hymn was then sung by a choir, accompanied by the music of an organ, which had been placed in the Hall for this occasion:

HYMN.

 

Go to the grave in all thy glorious prime,

    In full activity of zeal and power;

A Christian cannot die before his time;

    The Lord's appointment is his servant's hour.

 

Go to the grave; at noon from labor cease;

    Best on thy sheaves; the harvest task is done;

Come from the heat of battle, and in peace,

    Soldier, go home; with thee the fight is won.

 

Go to the grave; for there thy Saviour lay

    In death's embrace, ere he arose on high;

And all the ransomed, by that narrow way

    Pass to eternal life beyond the sky.

 

Go to the grave; no, take thy seat above;

    Be thy pure spirit present with the Lord;

Where thou for faith and hope hast perfect love,

    And open vision for the written word.

 

MR. THOREAU'S REMARKS.

Henry D. Thoreau then rose and said: So universal and widely related is any transcendent moral greatness, and so nearly identical with greatness every where and in every age,—as a pyramid contracts the nearer you approach its apex,— that, when I now look over my commonplace book of poetry, I find that the best of it is oftenest applicable, in part or wholly, to the case of Captain Brown. Only what is true, and strong, and solemnly earnest, will recommend itself to our mood at this time. Almost any noble verse may be read, either as his elegy or eulogy, or be made the text of an oration on him. Indeed, such are now discovered to be the parts of a universal liturgy, applicable to those rare cases of heroes and martyrs for which the ritual of no church has provided. This is the formula established on high—their burial service to which every great genius has contributed its stanza or line. As Marvell wrote:

When the sword glitters o'er the judge's head,

And fear has coward churchmen silenced,

Then is the poet's time; 'tis then he draws,

And single fights forsaken virtue's cause;

He, when the wheel of empire whirleth back,

And though the world's disjointed axle crack,

Sings still of ancient rights and better times,

Seeks suffering good, arraigns successful crimes.

 

The sense of grand poetry, read by the light of this event, is brought out distinctly like an invisible writing held to the fire:

 

All heads must come

To the cold tomb, —

Only the actions of the just

Smell sweet and blossom in the dust.

 

We have heard that the Boston lady1 who recently visited our hero in prison, found him wearing still the clothes, all cut and torn by sabres and by bayonet thrusts, in which he had been taken prisoner; and thus he had gone to his trial; and without a hat. She spent her time in prison mending those clothes, and, for a memento, brought home a pin covered with blood.

What are the clothes that endure?

The garments lasting evermore

Are works of mercy to the poor;

And neither tetter, time, nor moth

Shall fray that silk or fret this cloth.

 

The well-known verses called "The Soul's Errand," supposed, by some, to have been written by Sir Walter Raleigh, when he was expecting to be executed the following day, are at least worthy of such an origin, and are equally applicable to the present case. Hear them: 

THE SOUL'S ERRAND.

 

Go, soul, the body's guest,

    Upon a thankless arrant;

Fear not to touch the best;

    The truth shall be thy warrant:

        Go, since I needs must die,

        And give the world the lie.

 

Go, tell the Court it glows

    And shines like rotten wood;

Go, tell the Church it shows

    What's good, and doth no good;

        If church and court reply,

        Give church and court the lie.

 

Tell potentates they live

    Acting by other's actions;

Not loved unless they give,

    Not strong but by their factions:

        If potentates reply,

        Give potentates the lie.

 

Tell men of high condition,

    That rule affairs of state,

Their purpose is ambition,

    Their practice only hate;

        And if they once reply,

        Spare not to give the lie.

 

Tell Zeal it lacks devotion;

    Tell Love it is but lust;

Tell Time it is but motion;

    Tell Flesh it is but dust;

        And wish them not reply,

        For thou must give the lie.

 

Tell Age it daily wasteth;

    Tell Honor how it alters;

Tell Beauty how she blasteth;

    Tell Favor how she falters;

        And, as they shall reply,

        Give each of them the lie.

 

Tell Fortune of her blindness;

    Tell Nature of decay;

Tell Friendship of unkindness;

    Tell Justice of delay;

        And if they dare reply,

        Then give them all the lie.

 

And when thou hast, as I

    Commanded thee, done blabbing,

Although to give the lie

    Deserves no less than stabbing,

        Yet, stab at thee who will,

        No stab the soul can kill.

 

"When I am dead,

    Let not the day be writ,"

Nor bell be tolled;2

    "Love will remember it"

When hate is cold.

 

Mr. Thoreau also read these passages, selected for the occasion by another citizen of Concord:

 

COLLINS.

 

How sleep the brave, who sink to rest,

By all their country's wishes blest!

When Spring, with dewy fingers cold,

Returns to deck their hallowed mould,

She there shall dress a sweeter sod

Than Fancy's feet have ever trod.

 

By Fairy hands their knell is rung,

By forms unseen their dirge is sung;

There Honor comes, a pilgrim gray,

To bless the turf that wraps their clay,

And Freedom shall awhile repair,

To dwell a weeping hermit there.

 

SCHILLER.

 

He is gone, he is dust;

He the more fortunate; yea, he hath finished;

To him there is no longer any future;

His life is bright — bright without spot it was,

And cannot cease to be. No ominous hour

Knocks at his door with tidings of mishap.

Far off is he, above desire and fear;

No more submitted to the change and chance

Of the unsteady planets. O, 'tis well

With him; but who knows what the coming hour,

Veiled in thick darkness, brings for us?

 

WORDSWORTH.

May we not with sorrow say,

A few strong instincts, and a few plain rules,

Among the serdsmen of the hills, have wrought

More for mankind at this unhappy day,

Than all the pride of intellect and thought?

 

TENNYSON.

 

Ah, God! for a man with heart, head, hand,

Like some of the simple great ones gone

        Forever and ever by;

One still strong man in a blatant land,

Whatever they call him what care I,—

Aristocrat, democrat, autocrat,—one

Who can rule, and dare not lie.

 

GEORGE CHAPMAN.

 

There is no danger to a man who knows

Where life and death is; there's not any law

Exceeds his knowledge, neither is it needful

That he should stoop to any other law;

He goes before them, and commands them all.

That to himself is a law rational.

 

SHILLER.

 

                                      At the approach

Of Extreme peril, when a hollow image

Is found a hollow image, and no more,

Then falls the power into the mighty hands

Of nature, of the spirit giant-born

Who listens only to himself, knows nothing

Of stipulations, duties, reverences,

And, like the emancipated force of fire

Unmastered, scorches, ere it reaches them,

Their fine-spun webs.

 

WOTTON.

 

How happy is he born and taught

    Who serveth not another’s will,

Whose armor is his honest thought,

    And simple truth his utmost skill—!

Whose passions not his masters are,

    Whose soul is still prepared for death,

Not tied unto the world with care

    Of princes’ ear  or vulgar breath;—

Who hath his life from rumors freed,

    Whose conscience is his strong retreat,

Whose state can neither flatterers feed,

    Nor ruin make oppressors great;

Who envies none whom chance doth raise,

    Or vice; who never understood

How deepest wounds are given with praise;

    Nor rules of state, but rules of good; —

This man is freed from servile bands

    Of hope to rise or fear to fall;

Lord of himself, though not of lands,

    And having nothing, yet hath all.

TACITUS.3

You, Agricola, are fortunate, not only because your life was glorious, but because your death was timely. As they tell us who heard your last words, unchanged and willing you accepted your fate; as if, as far as in your power, you would make the emperor appear innocent. But, besides the bitterness of having lost a parent, it adds to our grief, that it was not permitted us to minister to your health, . . . to gaze on your countenance, and receive your last embrace; surely, we might have caught some words and commands which we could have treasured in the inmost part of our souls. This is our pain, this our wound. . . . You were buried with the fewer tears, and in your last earthly light, your eyes looked around for something which they did not see.

If there is any abode for the spirits of the pious; if, as wise men suppose, great souls are not extinguished with the body, may you rest placidly, and call your family from weak regrets, and womanly laments, to the contemplation of your virtues, which must not be lamented, either silently or aloud. Let us honor you by our admiration, rather than by short-lived praises, and, if nature aid us, by our emulation of you. That is true honor, that the piety of whoever is most akin to you. This also I would teach your family, so to venerate your memory, as to call to mind all your actions and words, and embrace your character and the form of your soul, rather than of your body; not because I think that statues which are made of marble or brass are to be condemned, but as the features of men, so images of the features, are frail and perishable. The form of the soul is eternal; and this we can retain and express, not by a foreign material and art, but by our own lives. Whatever of Agricola we have loved, whatever we have admired, remains, and will remain, in the minds of men, and the records of history, through the eternity of ages. For oblivion will overtake many of the ancients, as if they were inglorious and ignoble : Agricola, described and transmitted to posterity, will survive.

MR. CHARLES BOWERS followed Mr. Thoreau, and read the celebrated protest of Thomas Jefferson, author of the Declaration of Independence, third President of the United States, a Virginian, a historian of Virginia, and the predecessor of Governor Wise in the gubernatorial chair of that State; in which, it will be seen, he seems to have anticipated something like what has lately occurred:

PROTEST OF JEFFERSON.

The whole commerce between master and slave is a perpetual exercise of the most boisterous passions, the most unremitting despotism on the one part, and degrading submission on the other. . . . The man must be a prodigy who can retain his manners and morals undepraved by such circumstances. And with what execration should the statesman be loaded, who, permitting one half the citizens thus to trample on the rights of the other, transforms those into despots and these into enemies—destroys the morals of the one part, and the amor patriƦ of the other! And can the liberties of a nation be deemed secure, when we have removed their only firm basis—a conviction in the minds of the people that these liberties are the gift of God? that they are not to be violated but with his wrath? Indeed, I tremble for my country when I reflect that God is just that his justice cannot sleep forever; that, considering numbers, nature and natural means only, a revolution of the wheel of fortune, an exchange of situation, is among possible events; that it may become probable by supernatural interference! The Almighty has no attribute that can take side with us in such a contest.

HON. John S. Keyes said: In order to give this assembly a picture of the event now taking place in Virginia, I propose to read to you an account of a scene in some respects similar, which occurred in Edinburgh some two hundred years ago:

 

THE EXECUTION OF MONTROSE.4

 

They brought him to the Watergate,

    Hard bound with hempen span,

As though they held a lion there,

    And not a venceless man.

They set him high upon a cart—

    The hangman rode below—

They drew his hands behind his back,

    And bared his noble brow.

Then as a hound is slipped from leash,

    They cheered the common throng,

And blew the note with yell and shout,

    And bade him pass along.

 

It would have made a brave man's heart

    Grow sad and sick, that day,

To watch the keen, malignant eyes

    Bent down on that array.

Then stood the Whig south country lords

    In balcony and bow;

There sat their gaunt and withered domes,

    And their daughters all a-row;

And every open window

    Was full as full might be

With black-robed Covenanting carles,

    That goodly sport to see!

 

But when he came, though pale and wan.

    He looked so great and high,

So noble was his manly front,

    So calm his steadfast eye,

The rabble rout forbore to shout,

    And each man held his breath,

For well they knew the hero's soul

    Was face to face with death.

And then a mournful shudder

    Through all the people crept,

And some that came to scoff at him

    Now turned aside and wept.

 

But onward — always onward

    In silence and in gloom,

The dreary pageant labored,

    Till it reached the place of doom.

 And then uprose the great Montrose

    In the middle of the room-

"I have not sought in battle-field

    A wreath of such renown,

Nor dared I hope, on my dying day,

    To win the martyr's crown.

 

"There is a chamber far away

    Where sleep the good and brave,

But a better place ye have named for me

    Than by my father's grave.

For truth and right, 'gainst tyrants' might

    This hand hath always striven,

And ye raise it up for a witness still

    In the eye of earth and heaven.

Then nail my head on yonder tower

    Give every town a limb-

And God, who made, shall gather them;

    I go from you to Him!"

 

The morning dawned full darkly,

    The rain came flashing down,

And the jagged streak of the levin-bolt

    Lit up the gloomy town:

The thunder crashed across the heaven,

    The fatal hour was come;

Yet aye broke in, with muffled beat.

    The 'larum of the drum.

There was madness on the earth below,

    And anger in the sky;

And young and old, and rich and poor,

    Came forth to see him die.

 

Ah, God! that ghastly gibbet!

    How dismal 'tis to see

The great, tall, spectral skeleton,

    The ladder and the tree!

Hark! hark! it is the clash of arms

    The bells begin to toll — 

"He is coming! He is coming!"

    "God's mercy on his soul!"

One last, long peal of thunder —

    The clouds are cleared away,

And the glorious sun once more looks down

    Amidst the dazzling day.


"He is coming! he is coming!"

    Like a bridegroom from his room,

Came the hero from his prison

    To the scaffold and the doom.

There was glory on his forehead,

    There was lustre in his eye,

And he never walked to battle

    More proudly than to die;

There was color in his visage,

    Though the checks of all were wan,

And they marvelled as they saw him pass,

    That great and goodly man!

 

He mounted up the scaffold,

    And he turned him to the crowd;

But they dared not trust the people,

    So he might not speak aloud.

But he looked upon the heavens,

    And they were clear and blue,

And in the liquid ether

    The eye of God shone through;

Yet a black and murky battlement

    Lay resting on the hill,

As though the thunder slept within

    All else was calm and still.


The grim Geneva ministers

     With anxious scowl drew near,

As you have seen the ravens flock

    Around the dying deer.

He would not deign them word nor sign,

    But alone he bent his knee,

And veiled his face for Christ's dear grace,

    Beneath the gallows tree.

Then radiant and serene he rose,

    And cast his cloak away;

For he had ta'en his latest look

    Of earth, and sun, and day.

 

A beam of light fell o'er him

    Like a glory round the shriven,

And he climbed the lofty ladder

    As it were the path to heaven.

Then came a flash from out the cloud,

    And a stunning thunder-roll;

And no man dared to look aloft;

    Fear was on every soul.

There was another heavy sound,

    A hush, and then a groan;

And darkness swept across the sky —

    The work of death was done!

A. Bronson Alcott then offered these sentences from

PLATO.

An upright man is a perpetual magistrate.

Jupiter, fearing for our race, lest it should entirely perish, by reason of injuring one another from not possessing the political art, but only the military, sent Hermes to carry Shame and Justice to men, that they might be ornaments of cities and bonds to cement friend,hip. Hermes, therefore, asked Jupiter in what manner he was to give Shame and Justice to men. "Whether, as the arts have been distributed, so shall I distribute these, also? For they have been distributed thus: one man who possesses the medicinal art is sufficient for many not skilled in it. And so with other craftsmen. Shall I thus dispense Shame and Justice among men, or distribute them to all?" "To all," said Jupiter, "and let all partake of them; for there would be no cities if a few only were to partake of them, as of other arts. Moreover, enact a law in my name, that whoever is unable to partake of Shame and Justice, shall be put to death as a pest of a city."

The next exercise was the recital of the following original

ODE.

 

O Brother, brave, and just, and wise!

    Whose death unjust we mourn to-day,

Thy name shall live till Freedom dies;

    No tyrant can thy spirit slay!

 

The Hero's page, the Martyr's scroll,

    Since men for truth and virtue bled,

Bears record of no manlier soul

    Than thine that even now has fled.

 

Unworthy land that knew thee not!

    That bade her best and bravest die!

Be hers the shame thy glorious lot

    Admits thy soul to God's free sky.

 

His constant voice inspired thy deed.

    His clear command thy heart obeyed,

His hand shall give thy deathless meed

    When thou and we in dust are laid.

 

The prattling child shall lisp thy praise,

    The aged sire thy cause approve;

Forbidden to prolong thy days,

    Our love shall yet thy shame remove.

 

Ralph Waldo Emerson said that the part assigned to him in the services of the day, was to read portions of the conversations, speeches, and letters of John Brown—an obscure Connecticut farmer, who, taking the Gospel in earnest, and devoting himself to the uplifting of a despised race, had suddenly become the most prominent person in the country. He then read extracts from the conversation between Senator Mason and John Brown, and from Captain Cook's Confession; the last speech of John Brown in Court; his letter to Rev. Mr. Vaill, of Litchfield, Connecticut; his "letter to a Christian Conservative," and a passage from his reply to Mrs. Child.5

Mr. Alcott then read the

SERVICE FOR THE DEATH OF A MARTYR.

In introducing this new and worthy liturgy, he said that on occasions like the present, when the heart and the conscience are so deeply moved, silence seems better than speech. Yet some voice must be found for the sentiment so universal today; and accordingly I now read to you these leaves of wisdom from

 

JESUS CHRIST.

 

    Whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them: for this is the law and the prophets.

    Whether it is lawful to obey God or man, judge ye.

SOLOMON.6

The ungodly said, reasoning with themselves, but not aright, Our life is short and tedious, and in the death of a man there is no remedy; neither was there any man known to have returned from the grave.

Let us oppress the poor righteous man; let us not spare the widow, nor reverence the ancient gray hairs of the aged.

Let our strength be the law; for that which is feeble is found to be nothing worth.

Therefore let us lie in wait for the righteous; because he is not for our turn, and he is clean contrary to our doings: he upbraideth us with our offending the law.

He professeth to have the knowledge of God; and he calleth himself the child of the Lord. He was made to reprove our thoughts.

He is grievous unto us even to behold: for his life is not like other men's, his ways are of another fashion.

We are esteemed of him as counterfeits; he abstaineth from our ways as from filthiness; he pronounceth the end of the just to be blessed, and maketh his boast that God is his father.

Let us see if his words be true, and let us prove what shall happen in the end of him.

For, if the just man be the Son of God, He will help him, and deliver him from the hand of his enemies.

Let us examine him with despitefulness and torture, that we may know his meekness and prove his patience.

Let us condemn him with a shameful death; for by his own saying he shall be respected.

Such things they did imagine and were deceived; for their own wickedness had blinded them.

They, the people, stood up, and the rulers took counsel together against the Lord and against his Anointed.

They cast their heads together with one consent, and were confederate against him.

He heard the blasphemy of the multitude, and fear was on every side, while they conspired together against him to take away his life.

They spake against him with false tongues, and compassed him about with words of hatred.

They rewarded him evil for good.

They took their counsel together, saying, God hath forsaken him: persecute him and take him, for there is none to deliver.

Let the sentence of guiltiness proceed against him, and now that he lieth, let him rise up no more.

False witnesses, also, did rise up against him; they laid to his charge things that he knew not.7

Then shall the righteous man stand in great boldness before the face of such as have afflicted him and made no account of his labors.

"For the sins of the people and the iniquities of the rulers they shed the blood of the just. In their anger they slew a man; the man whom Thou hadst made so strongly for Thine Own Self." — Lamentations.

He, being made perfect, in a short time fulfilled a long time.

For his soul pleased the Lord; therefore, hasted He to take him away from among the Wicked.

This the People saw and understood it not, neither laid they up this in their minds that His grace and mercy is with His saints, and that He hath respect unto His Chosen.

When they see it they shall be troubled with terrible fear, and shall be amazed at the strangeness of his salvation, so far beyond all that they looked for.

And they, repenting and groaning for anguish of spirit, shall say within themselves, This was he whom we had sometime in derision and a proverb of reproach.

We, fools, accounted his life madness and his end to be without honor. How is he numbered among the children of God, and his lot is among the saints!

What hath pride profited us? or what good hath riches with our vaunting brought us?

All those things are passed away like a shadow, and as a post that hasteth by ;

And as a ship that passeth over the waves of the water;

Or as when a bird hath flown through the air;

Or, like as when an arrow is shot at a mark, it parteth the air, which immediately cometh together again, so that a man cannot know where it went through;

Even so we, in like manner, as soon as we were born, began to draw to our end, and had no sign of virtue to show; but were consumed in our own wickedness.

But the righteous live forevermore; their reward, also, is with the Lord; and the care of them is with the Most High.

Therefore shall they receive a glorious kingdom and a beautiful crown from the Lord's hand; for with his right hand shall he cover them, and with his arm shall he protect them.

Great are Thy Judgments, and cannot be expressed; therefore unnurtured souls have erred.

For, when unrighteous men thought to oppress the righteous one, they, being shut up in their houses, the prisoners of darkness, and fettered with the bonds of a long night, lay there exiled from the Eternal Providence.

For while they supposed to lie hid in their secret sins, they were scattered under a dark veil of forgetfulness, being horribly astonished and troubled with strange apparitions.

For neither might the corner that held them keep them from fear; but noises, as of waters falling down, sounded about them; and sad visions appeared unto them with heavy countenances.

No power of the fire might give them light; neither could the bright flames of the stars endure to lighten that horrible night.

Only there appeared unto them a fire kindled of itself, very dreadful; for, being much terrified, they thought the things which they saw to be worse than the sight they saw not.

Yea, the tasting of death touched the righteous also.

For then the blameless man made haste, and stood forth to defend them, and bringing the shield of his proper ministry, even prayer and the propitiation of incense, set himself against the wrath, and so brought the calamity to an end, declaring that he was Thy Servant.

So he overcame the destroyer, not with the strength of body or force of arms, but with a word subdued he him that punished, alleging the oaths and covenants made with the Fathers.

For, in all things, O Lord, Thou didst magnify Thy Servant and glorify him; neither didst Thou lightly regard him, but didst assist him in every time and place.

The souls of the righteous are in the hands of God, and there shall no torment touch them.

In the sight of the unwise he seemed to die: and his departure is taken for misery, and his going from us to be utter destruction; but he is in peace.

For though he be punished in the sight of men, yet is his hope full of Immortality.

And, having been a little chastised, he shall be greatly rewarded; for God proved him and found him worthy for himself.

He shall judge the nations and have dominion over the people, and his Lord shall reign forever.

The following original verses, by a gentleman of Concord, were then read by Mr. Brown, and sung by the congregation standing:

DIRGE.

To-day beside Potomac's wave,
    Beneath Virginia's sky,
They slay the man who loved the slave,
    And dared for him to die.

The Pilgrim Fathers' earnest creed,
    Virginia's ancient faith,
Inspired this hero's noblest deed,
    And his reward is — Death!

Great Washington's indignant shade
    Forever urged him on —
He heard from Monticello's glade
    The voice of Jefferson.

But chiefly on the Hebrew page
    He read Jehovah's law,
And this, from youth to hoary age,
    Obeyed with love and awe.

No selfish purpose armed his hand,
    No passion aimed his blow;
How loyally he loved his land
    Impartial Time shall show.

But now the faithful martyr dies;
    His brave heart beats no more;
His soul ascends the equal skies;
    His earthly course is o'er.

For this we mourn, but not for him:
    Like him, in God we trust;
And though our eyes with tears are dim,
    We know that God is just.

_______________

1 The wife of Judge Russell.

2 The selectmen of the town, not knowing but they had authority, refused to allow the bell to be tolled on this occasion.

3 Translated by Mr. Thoreau.

4 From Aytoun's "Lays of the Scottish Cavaliers."

5 I do not wish to repeat the same quotations in any of my books; and, as all the passages read by Mr. Emerson appear in my Life of John Brown, in the chapters entitled "The Political Inquisitors," "Condemned to die," "Lying in Wait," and "The Conquering Pen," I omit them here.

6 Chiefly from the "Wisdom of Solomon."

7 The last eight verses are from the Psalter.

SOURCE: James Redpath, Editor, Echoes of Harper’s Ferry, p. 437-54

Saturday, October 28, 2023

Mary Ann Day Brown to John Brown, November 13, 1859

Eaglewood, Perth Amboy, New York, Nov. 13.

My Dear and Beloved Husband: I am here with Mrs. Spring, the kind lady who came to see you, and minister to your wants, which I am deprived of doing. You have nursed and taken care of me a great deal; but I cannot even come and look at you. O, it is hard! But I am perfectly satisfied with it, believing it best. And may the Lord reward the kind jailer for his kind attentions to you. You cannot think the relief it gave me to see Mrs. Spring, and to get a letter from your own hands. When you were at home last June I did not think that I took your hand for the last time. But may Thy will, O Lord, be done. I do not want to do or say any thing to disturb your peace of mind; but, O, I would serve you gladly if I could. I have often thought that I should rather hear that you were dead than fallen into the hands of your enemies; but I don't think so now. The good that is growing out of it is wonderful. If you had preached in the pulpit ten such lives as you have lived, you could not have done so much good as you have done in that one speech to the Court. It is talked about and preached about every where and in all places. that Moses was not allowed to go into the land of Canaan; so you are not allowed to see your desire carried out. Man deviseth his way, but the Lord directeth his steps. . . .

SOURCE: James Redpath, Editor, Echoes of Harper’s Ferry, p. 427

Mary Ann Day Brown to John Brown, November 29, 1859

NEAR PHILADELPHIA, Nov. 29.

My dear Husband: I have just received your letter to Mr. M., saying that you would like to have me stay here until you are disposed of. I felt as if I could not go any further away until that sad event. You are the gainer, but we are the losers; but God will take care of us all. I am with Mrs. Lucretia Mott. . . . I find warm friends every where I go. I cannot begin to tell you the good this Sacrifice has done, or is likely to do, for the Oppressed. O, I feel it is a great Sacrifice; but hope that God will enable us to bear it. . . . I went to hear Mrs. Mott preach to-day, and heard a most excellent sermon; she made a number of allusions to you, and the preaching you are doing, and are likely to do. I expect to hear Wendell Phillips tomorrow night. Every one thinks that God is with you. I hope he will be with you unto the end. Do write to me all you can. I have written to Governor Wise for your body and those of our beloved sons. I find there is no lack of money to effect it if they can be had. Farewell, my dear, beloved husband, whom I am never to see in this world again, but hope to meet in the next.

From your most affectionate wife,
Mary A. Brown.

SOURCE: James Redpath, Editor, Echoes of Harper’s Ferry, p. 428

Annie Brown to John Brown, November 9, 1859

North Elba, November 9.

Father, you said that you were cheerful. I am glad of that. But why should you be otherwise? All you were guilty of was, doing your duty to your fellow-men. Would that we were all guilty of the same. Martha and Bell* bear their grief like heroines. . . Give my love to Stevens and the other prisoners. Tell them I think of them often; tell them to hope for the best; but be sure and be prepared for the worst. . . .

Ever your affectionate daughter,
Annie Brown.
_______________

* The widows of Oliver and Watson Brown.

SOURCE: James Redpath, Editor, Echoes of Harper’s Ferry, p. 428

Ellen Brown to John Brown, undated, likely November 1859

Dear Father: I deeply sympathize with you; and were it in my power to help or comfort you, how gladly would I do it! But that cannot be; and I can only say, I hope we may so live as to profit by the kind and good advice you have so often given us, and at last meet in heaven. Farewell! Your affectionate daughter,

ELLEN BROWN.

SOURCE: James Redpath, Editor, Echoes of Harper’s Ferry, p. 428

John Brown Jr. to John Brown, November 28, 1859

JEFFERSON, ASHTABULA Co., OHIO,}
Thursday, Nov. 28, 1859.}

My dear, dear Father: I have just learned that there is probably a way through which I may communicate with you; and, though the time is short, I must say a word.

While my heart is bowed down with unutterable grief, I have cause to thank God that my reason is yet unclouded. The Spirit which has sustained you in your hours of dreadful suffering, and which dispels the shadows of "the dark valley," has not deserted us who love to call you father. I feel that I cannot, in these my last words to you on this side of Heaven, say any thing more comforting. Though we are poor in this world's goods, and some of our number are hunted by the minions of tyranny for endeavoring to aid our despised and oppressed brethren, we yet feel rich in the legacy of your life and deeds.

You say in your letter to J. R., "Tell my poor boys not to mourn for me." O, how can we help mourning for you? We must mingle our tears together over our dear lost father. No, not lost; for, "though you die, yet shall you rise again." For a brief period, you must pass beyond our sight. We may never look upon your outward form again, but still you will live live in the hearts of your children, and in the hearts of millions of poor Afric's sons and daughters, who will yet love to call you father.

Be assured that all I can do to minister to the comfort of the destitute members of our family, I shall do, "not forgetting those in bonds as bound with them."

And now, my dear father, be cheered by our conviction that your life furnishes the best vindication of your memory; that, even now, your motives are appreciated by those whose hearts are susceptible to generous and noble emotions; and, O! with these words I convey the assurance of the undying attachment of your affectionate son John, in this his long, last Farewell.

SOURCE: James Redpath, Editor, Echoes of Harper’s Ferry, p. 429

Marian Brown Hand to John Brown, November 23, 1859

Rawsonville, Nov. 23.

My dear Brother John: If I have not been first to come forward to express my sympathy for you, in this your hour of trial, it was not because I did not feel very deeply; but whenever I undertake to give expression to my feelings, words are inadequate, and I find myself driven away from earth in thought to find consolation; and I rejoice that there is One seeth as man cannot see. O, my brother, if I could say any thing that would help to cheer thine heart or buoy up your spirits, I should be most happy. You say in your letter to Jeremiah that the time may come when we will not be ashamed to own our brother John. Do not let the evil spirit suggest such a thought as this to mar your peace. No! I rejoice that a brother of mine is accounted worthy to suffer and die in His cause, and I feel myself impelled to cry out, "The Lord reigneth; let the earth rejoice;" and, as you, like our Heavenly Master, have been a "Man of Sorrows, and acquainted with grief," I do pray that you may be able to forgive your enemies, and to pray for them, as Stephen of old did, "Lord, lay not this sin to their charge."

O, read the 53d chapter of Isaiah, and may it comfort and sustain you as it has me. O, "fear not them that kill the body and have not power to kill the soul." I feel that you will be sustained in every conflict. Let it cheer you that thousands of Christians are offering prayer to God daily and hourly in your behalf, and that God will get honor and glory in the finale of the matter. I received a letter yesterday from her that was Harriett O——, saying, "Tell your brother how deeply I feel and pray for him in these his days of trial, that God will be his friend and support to the last." Sister D—— would unite with me in this, if she were here; for it is the first thing thought of when we meet — How shall we express our sympathy for him? What can we say that will add one ray of comfort? I shall write to Mary, for my own widowed heart can in some measure realize how bitter is the cup of which she must drink. I should dearly love to receive a few lines, at least, from you. My children send their sympathy and love; and now, dear brother, God be with you, is the prayer of your affectionate sister.

Marian S. H.

Please receive what mother has written as coming from myself also; and may God be with you and sustain you in all your trials. I can say no more.

Your affectionate nephew,
A. K. H.1
_______________

* Half sister of John Brown, daughter of Owen Brown and Sally Root.

1 Addison K. Hand, son of Marian Brown & Titus H. Hand.

SOURCE: James Redpath, Editor, Echoes of Harper’s Ferry, p. 429-30

Annie Lorena Wilson & Frances C. Brown* to John Brown, November 28, 1859

HUDSON, Ohio, Nov. 28.

Dear Uncle John: Through the politeness of Mr. Lewis, from Akron, we take this opportunity to send you our love and heartfelt sympathies in your present tribulation. We think of you almost every moment, and nightly our simple prayers are offered up in behalf of our uncle John, that he may be sustained in all his afflictions by an overruling Providence.

We remain, as ever, your affectionate nieces,
A. L. W. and F. C. B.
_______________

* Nieces of John Brown: Annie Lorena Wilson, daughter of Emeline King & Samuel D. Wilson, and granddaughter of Anna Ruth Brown and Hiram King; Frances C. Brown, daughter of Jeremiah Root Brown and Abi Cornelia Hinsdale.

SOURCE: James Redpath, Editor, Echoes of Harper’s Ferry, p. 430

Jeremiah Brown* to John Brown, November 9, 1859

Cleveland, Nov. 9.

Dear Brother John: I will not attempt to express my feelings of sympathy for you. You know my heart. Can I do any thing for you in regard to your business, or for your family? . . . Jason wants to go and sue you, but cannot, He says, "Tell father I wish I could help him." My family wish to be remembered to you. You will live in our hearts, though dead in body.

Yours affectionately,
JEREMIAH BROWN.
_______________

* John Brown’s half-brother, son of Owen Brown and Sally Root.

SOURCE: James Redpath, Editor, Echoes of Harper’s Ferry, p. 430

Rev. Luther Humphrey* to John Brown, November 12, 1859

Windham, Portage Co., Ohio, Nov. 12.

My Dear Cousin: I have just completed the attentive perusal of the account published in the New York Tribune of November 5, of your trial and sentence to be hung on the 2d December.

Never before did I read such a sentence upon any relative of mine. From their own witnesses I cannot see any ground why you should be sentenced to death for a single one of the counts presented in your indictment. You may have one thing to comfort you under all your afflictions and sorrows: "The Lord reigns;" and He will cause the wrath of man to praise him, and the remainder of wrath He will restrain. He knows well what were your motives in what you have done; and whether it was the best course or not, he will overrule it all for his glory. The Bible throughout condemns oppression in all its forms, and is on the side of the oppressed, and their sighs and groanings have come up before him, and he has seen all their tears. Though man may not be able to deliver those who are in bonds, yet God can do it with perfect ease, and he has taken the matter into his own hands, and he will certainly accomplish it. The prophet Isaiah was directed to say to the people, "There is no peace, saith my God, to the wicked. Cry aloud; spare not; lift up thy voice like a trumpet; and show my people their transgressions, and the house of Jacob their sins. Is not this the fast that I have chosen, to loose the bands of wickedness, to undo the heavy burdens, and to let the oppressed go free, and that ye break every yoke? Is it not to deal thy bread to the hungry, and that thou bring the poor that are cast out to thy house? When thou seest the naked, that thou cover him, and that thou hide not thyself from thine own flesh?"

He who hath made of one blood all nations of men to dwell on the face of the earth sent his servants Moses and Aaron to Pharaoh, king of Egypt, saying, "Thus saith the Lord God of the Hebrews, Let my people go, that they may serve me; for I will at this time send all my plagues upon thine heart, and upon thy servants, and upon thy people, that thou mayest know there is none like me in all the earth." Pharaoh said in the pride and stoutness of his heart, "Who is the Lord, that I should obey his voice to let Israel go? I know not the Lord; neither will I let Israel go." So may the wicked slaveholders of the South say respecting those whom they cruelly hold in bondage; but the same king who delivered the children of Israel from Egyptian bondage will surely deliver those who are oppressed in our own country, and it will not be in the united power of earth and hell to prevent their deliverance. God will accomplish it in his own good time and way. We may well exclaim with Jefferson, "I tremble for my country when I remember that God is just."

You, my dear sir, may be called to die in the cause of liberty, as your beloved sons have been caused to give up their lives; but, if so, I believe your and their blood will "cry unto the Lord from the ground." If you are really a child of God, you will soon be where the wicked cease from troubling, and where the weary are at rest; where all things work together for good. Christ is saying to you, "What I do thou knowest not now, but thou shalt know hereafter." I fully believe what the kind Quaker woman1 wrote you, "Thousands pray for thee every day. Posterity will do thee justice." Should they put you to death, they will not only have to wade through the blood of those who have been cruelly murdered in the same cause, but also through the prayers of God's people, which will not be unheeded or disregarded by the hearer of prayer. I am exceeding thankful that the jailer is so kind to you, and that you are permitted to occupy yourself in writing and reading. I doubt not but you now value the Bible far above all other reading. May it do you good! It will be exceedingly gratifying to me to receive a letter from you before your exit, . . . I shall continue to pray for you so long as you may be a subject of prayer, that the Lord may comfort and support you and your remaining mourning and afflicted family. May we all be permitted to meet in heaven, with all the blood-bought throng, and with them unite in praise to the Redeemer forever and ever. May that peace which passeth all understanding be yours in the trying hour. Farewell! Farewell!

L. H.
_______________

* Cousin of John Brown, son of Hannah Owen Brown and Solomon Humphrey Jr.

1 The letter referred to I do not republish in this volume, as it has already appeared in "The Public Life."

SOURCE: James Redpath, Editor, Echoes of Harper’s Ferry, p. 431-2

Rev. Edward Brown* to John Brown, November 20, 1859

La Crosse, Wisconsin, Nov. 20.

Dear Cousin: Little did I think when I parted with you and other friends in Hudson twenty years ago that I should ever address you a prisoner under sentence of death. But such are the mysterious ways of that inscrutable Providence that directs our steps, however we may devise our ways. I have for years watched your strange, eventful history. I have wept for your griefs, and my soul has burned within me when I have read the tale of wrongs endured by your family in Kansas. And when I now read, in a venial partisan press those heartless slanders, many of which, extending back to former years, I know to be as base as can be invented by the Father of Lies, and see you held up before the world in a character not only impossible to you, but to any one brought up and educated by the sainted Oliver Brown, my indignation can scarcely be repressed. It is for this I feel that, ere you must undergo the sentence meted out to you by a false and wicked System, I must write a word, simply to express to you my confidence in your sincerity, and my belief that you have acted according to your convictions of duty. Looking at the matter from my own stand-point, I should not conceive it my duty to have done as you did. Place me in your circumstances, and I am wholly unable to say what I should have done. I have but one son! Were I called to see him wantonly sacrificed to the extension of a System, founded, nurtured, and perpetuated only in wrong, I know not what it would make me. In a conversation with you at your father's house, twenty-two years since, when some of our friends imbibed the strange notion that they had become perfectly holy, you remarked:

"We never know ourselves till thoroughly tried. As heating of old smooth coin will make the effaced stamp visible again, so the fire of temptation reveals what is latent even to ourselves."

I will not at this distance, and under your circumstances, even venture an opinion as to the right or wrong of your act. If your sentence is executed, you are too near the bar of that God who will judge righteous judgment, who, as you have said, "is no respecter of persons," for me to pretend to sit in judgment. Rather would I commend you to that mercy that "will not break a bruised reed." But this I will say, that I would sooner take the place you must take before Him than that of the noblest in the world's esteem, who has robbed the least of God's poor of his right. I shall cherish your memory while God spares you here, as one I formerly esteemed very highly, and whom I never can believe would have done a known wrong, even to save your life. I know it will take another and a better generation to do justice to your memory. Yet I feel an earnest desire to do what I can to set you before the world in the true light. I shall endeavor to open correspondence with your family, and gather all the facts, both for my own satisfaction and that of other friends. If this shall reach you in time, may I beg of you a word, though it be but a word, that I may know that it was received, I shall observe the day that man has fixed to terminate your earthly career as a day of fasting and prayer, in which I shall endeavor in my imperfect way to remember not only you and your deeply-afflicted family, but also bear upon my heart before a compassionate Saviour, the oppressed and downtrodden, "remembering them that are in bonds as bound with them."

And now, cousin John, farewell, till we meet in eternity. And may we then be permitted, with those venerable fathers who taught us in youth to love and serve a God of truth and righteousness, to join in the new song to Him that loved us and bought us with his own precious blood.

Your affectionate cousin,
EDWARD BROWN,
_______________

* Cousin of John Brown, son of Frederick Brown & Chloe S. Pettibone.

SOURCE: James Redpath, Editor, Echoes of Harper’s Ferry, p. 432-3

Saturday, September 30, 2023

A. E D.* to John Brown, November 27, 1859

PHILADELPHIA, Nov. 27, 1859.

My Friend: You will let me call you so? I want to write you a few words of loving sympathy, though my heart is heavy with grief and sorrow, and the fast-falling tears will scarcely permit me to. Sometimes, when about my work, or in the quiet twilight hour, as I sit and think of you, I see only the glorious cause in which you have toiled and suffered; I remember your heroic self-sacrifices, your noble generosity, your unwavering, unhesitating devotion to the right, and I say to myself: "Ah! it is a fitting close to such a life; it is well he should die a martyr's death; that he should seal his testimony with his blood; that he should obey the apostolic injunction, and 'give his life for the brethren.'" To-day, I have been thinking of you constantly, and with the thought there has been singing through my brain the verse of a hymn learned long ago:

"On the Rock of Ages founded,
What can shake thy sure repose?
With salvation's walls surrounded,
Thou canst sinile at all thy foes."

"Ah!" I say to myself, "that is true, but it does not contain all; for he weeps and prays for his persecutors." Sometimes, when I have thought of the down-trodden and the oppressed, I have repeated sadly to myself the plaint which seems as if written expressly for them : "Behold, is it nothing to you all, ye that pass by, that I sit alone and weep?" Yes, it was something to one brave, true, manly heart, something which caused him to toil and suffer, and at last lay down his life in their cause. And then, all of these high, brave thoughts fade out, and I think of you sick and suffering, bound and in prison; I think of the scoffs and jeers, the crown of thorns, the bloody sweat, the cross, the agony; I think of the widowed and heart-broken wife, the outlawed, manly sons, alas! alas! the fatherless ones, and my heart swells almost to bursting with its grief. I have gone about for weeks with a soul heavy and sick with sorrow: O, my God! how can I say, "Thy will be done"? I have one earnest, longing wish; that is, to be with you once, if only for a little while—to look at you with my tear-dimmed eyes — to kneel by your side, feel your hand laid in blessing on my head, and then go forth to battle for the right with all the power that is in me. I should carry about that blessing with me forever; for it would be that of one already standing in the light of the Eternal Glory. But this may not be. In its place there is one favor I would ask of you. It is, that you would write me a few words, if only to say, "Be strong;" which would be a strong and sure support to me, which should be with me always, and which I would have them lay upon my pulseless heart at last. Is it asking too much of you? Can you spare me so much of your precious time? And now, my friend, I must say - Farewell. O, how can I? how can I? It comes from a grief-torn and bleeding heart. I have but one consolation that the Heavenly Father, in his infinite mercy, and the Lord Jesus Christ, in tenderest compassion, with his own wounds bleeding afresh, are ever near you to comfort and to bless. And now, at last — Farewell!

A. E. D.

To one very near his rest and reward—John Brown

_______________

* A woman from Philadelphia.

SOURCE: James Redpath, Editor, Echoes of Harper’s Ferry, p. 420-1