John Brown to Samuel Edmund Sewall, November 29, 1859

CHARLESTOWN, JEFFERSON CO., VA., Nov. 29, 1859.

S. E. SEWALL, ESQ.

My dear Sir: Your most kind letter of the 24th inst. is received. It does, indeed, give me "pleasure," and the greatest encouragement to know of any efforts that have been made in behalf of my poor and deeply afflicted family. It takes from my mind the greatest cause of sadness I have experienced during my imprisonment here. I feel quite cheerful, and ready to die. I can only say, for want of time, may the God of the oppressed and the poor, in great mercy, remember all those to whom we are so deeply indebted.

Farewell.

Your friend,

JOHN BROWN.

SOURCE: James Redpath, The Public Life of Capt. John Brown, p. 364

John Brown to James Forman, December 1, 1859

CHARLESTOWN PRISON, JEFFERSON CO., VA., Dec. 1, 1859.

JAMES FORMAN, ESQ.

My dear Friend: I have only time to say I got your kind letter of the 26th Nov. this evening. Am very grateful for all the good feeling expressed by yourself and wife. May God abundantly bless and save you all. I am very cheerful, in hopes of entering on a better state of existence, in a few hours, through infinite grace in "Christ Jesus, my Lord." Remember the "poor that cry," and "them that are in bonds as bound with them."

Your friend as ever,

JOHN BROWN.

SOURCE: James Redpath, The Public Life of Capt. John Brown, p. 368-9

John Brown to John F. Blessing, November 29, 1859

To John F. Blessing, of Charlestown, Va., with the best wishes of the undersigned, and his sincere thanks for many acts of kindness received. There is no commentary in the world so good, in order to a right understanding of this blessed book,¹ as an honest, childlike, and teachable spirit.

John Brown.

Charlestown, Nov. 29, 1859.

_______________

¹ John Brown’s pocket Bible.

SOURCE: Franklin B. Sanborn, The Life and Letters of John Brown, p. 619

John Brown’s Last Letter to his Family, November 30, 1859

Charlestown Prison, Jefferson County, Va.,

Nor. 30, 1859.

My Dearly Beloved Wife, Sons, And Daughters, Every One, — As I now begin probably what is the last letter I shall ever write to any of you, I conclude to write to all at the same time. I will mention some little matters particularly applicable to little property concerns in another place.

I recently received a letter from my wife, from near Philadelphia, dated November 22, by which it would seem that she was about giving up the idea of seeing me again. I had written her to come on if she felt equal to the undertaking, but I do not know that she will get my letter in time. It was on her own account, chiefly, that I asked her to stay back. At first I had a most strong desire to see her again, but there appeared to be very serious objections; and should we never meet in this life, I trust that she will in the end be satisfied it was for the best at least, if not most for her comfort.

I am waiting the hour of my public murder with great composure of mind and cheerfulness; feeling the strong assurance that in no other possible way could I be used to so much advantage to the cause of God and of humanity, and that nothing that either I or all my family have sacrificed or suffered will be lost. The reflection that a wise and merciful as well as just and holy God rules not only the affairs of this world but of all worlds, is a rock to set our feet upon under all circumstances, — even those more severely trying ones in which our own feelings and wrongs have placed us. I have now no doubt but that our seeming disaster will ultimately result in the most glorious success. So, my dear shattered and broken family, be of good cheer, and believe and trust in God with all your heart and with all your soul; for He doeth all things well. Do not feel ashamed on my account, nor for one moment despair of the cause or grow weary of well-doing. I bless God I never felt stronger confidence in the certain and near approach of a bright morning and glorious day than I have felt, and do now feel, since my confinement here. I am endeavoring to return, like a poor prodigal as I am, to my Father, against whom I have always sinned, in the hope that be may kindly and forgivingly meet me, though a very great way off.

Oh, my dear wife and children, would to God you could know how I have been travailing in birth for you all, that no one of you may fail of the grace of God through Jesus Christ; that no one of you may be blind to the truth and glorious light of his Word, in which life und immortality are brought to light. I beseech you, every one, to make the Bible your daily and nightly study, with a child-like, honest, candid, teachable spirit of love and respect for your husband and father. And I beseech the God of my fathers to open all your eyes to the discovery of the truth. You cannot imagine how much you may soon need the consolations of the Christian religion. Circumstances like my own for more than a month past have convinced me, beyond all doubt, of my own great need of some theories treasured up, when our prejudices are excited, our vanity worked up to the highest pitch. Oh, do not trust your eternal all upon the boisterous ocean, without even a helm or compass to aid you in steering! I do not ask of you to throw away your reason; I only ask you to make a candid, sober use of your reason.

My dear young children, will you listen to this last poor admonition of one who can only love you? Oh, be determined at once to give your whole heart to God, and let nothing shake or alter that resolution. You need have no fears of regretting it. Do not be vain and thoughtless, but sober-minded; and let me entreat you all to love the whole remnant of our once great family. Try and build up again your broken walls, and to make the utmost of every stone that is left. Nothing can so tend to make life a blessing as the consciousness that your life and example bless and leave others stronger. Still, it is ground of the utmost comfort to my mind to know that so many of you as have had the opportunity have given some proof of your fidelity to the great family of men. Be faithful unto death: from the exercise of habitual love to man it cannot be very hard to love his Maker.

I must yet insert the reason for my firm belief in the divine inspiration of the Bible, notwithstanding I am, perhaps, naturally sceptical, — certainly not credulous. I wish all to consider it most thoroughly when you read that blessed book, and see whether you cannot discover such evidence yourselves. It is the purity of heart, filling our minds as well as work and actions, which is everywhere insisted on, that distinguishes it from all the other teachings, that commends it to my conscience. Whether my heart be willing and obedient or not, the inducement that it holds out is another reason of my conviction of its truth and genuineness; but I do not here omit this my last argument on the Bible, that eternal life is what my soul is panting after this moment. I mention this as a reason for endeavoring to leave a valuable copy of the Bible, to be carefully preserved in remembrance of me, to so many of my posterity, instead of some other book at equal cost.

I beseech you all to live in habitual contentment with moderate circumstances and gains of worldly store, and earnestly to teach this to your children and children's children after you, by example as well as precept. Be determined to know by experience, as soon as may be, whether Bible instruction is of divine origin or not. Be sure to owe no man anything, but to love one another. John Rogers wrote to his children: “Abhor that arrant whore of Rome.” John Brown writes to his children to abhor, with undying hatred also, that sum of all villanies, — slavery. Remember, “he that is slow to anger is better than the mighty,” and “he that ruleth his spirit than he that taketh a city.” Remember also that “they being wise shall shine, and they that turn many to righteousness, as the stars for ever and ever.”

And now, dearly beloved family, to God and the work of his grace I commend you all.

Your affectionate husband and father,

John Brown.

SOURCES: Franklin B. Sanborn, The Life and Letters of John Brown, p. 613-5

John Brown to his sisters Mary Hand and Martha Davis, November 27, 1859

Charlestown, Jefferson Cottnty, Va.,

Nov. 27, 1859 (Sabbath).

My Dearly Beloved Sisters Mary A. And Martha, — I am obliged to occupy a part of what is probably my last Sabbath on earth in answering the very kind and comforting letters of sister Hand and son of the 23d inst., or I must fail to do so at all. I do not think it any violation of the day that God made for man. Nothing could be more grateful to my feelings than to learn that you do not feel dreadfully mortified, and even disgraced, on account of your relation to one who is to die on the scaffold. I have really suffered more, by tenfold, since my confinement here, on account of what I feared would be the terrible feelings of my kindred on my account, than from all other causes. I am most glad to learn from you that my fears on your own account were ill founded. I was afraid that a little seeming present prosperity might have carried you away from realities, so that “the honor that cometh from men” might lead you in some measure to undervalue that which “cometh from God.” I bless God, who has most abundantly supported and comforted mo all along, to find you are not ensnared. Dr. Heman Humphrey has just sent me a most doleful lamentation over my “infatuation and madness” (very kindly expressed), in which, I cannot doubt, he has given expression to the extreme grief of others of our kindred. I have endeavored to answer him kindly also, and at the same time to deal faithfully with my old friend. I think I will send you his letter; and if you deem it worth the trouble, you can probably get my reply, or a copy of it. Suffice it for me to say, “None of these things move me.” Luther Humphrey wrote me a very comforting letter.

There are things, dear sisters, that God hides even from the wise and prudent. I feel astonished that one so exceedingly vile and unworthy as I am should even be suffered to have a place anyhow or anywhere among the very least of all who, when they come to die (as all must), were permitted to pay the debt of nature in defence of the right and of God's eternal and immutable truth. Oh, my dear friends, can you believe it possible that the scaffold has no terrors for your own poor old unworthy brother? I thank God, through Jesus Christ my Lord, it is even so. I am now shedding tears, but they are no longer tears of grief or sorrow; I trust I have nearly done with those. I am weeping for joy and gratitude that I can in no other way express. I get many very kind and comforting letters that I cannot possibly reply to; wish I had time and strength to answer all. I am obliged to ask those to whom I do write to let friends read what I send as much as they well can. Do write my deeply afflicted and affectionate wife. It will greatly comfort her to have you write her freely. She has borne up manfully under accumulated griefs. She will be most glad to know that she has not been entirely forgotten by my kindred. Say to all my friends that I am waiting cheerfully and patiently the days of my appointed time; fully believing that for me now to die will be to me an infinite gain and of untold benefit to the cause we love. Wherefore, “be of good cheer,” and “let not your hearts be troubled.” “To him that overcometh will I grant to sit with me in my throne, even as I also overcame and am set down with my Father in his throne.” I wish my friends could know but a little of the rare opportunities I now get for kind and faithful labor in God's cause. I hope they have not been entirely lust.

Now, dear friends, I have done. May the God of peace bring us all again from the dead!

Your affectionate brother;

John Brown.

SOURCES: Franklin B. Sanborn, The Life and Letters of John Brown, p. 607-9

John Brown to Marie Sterns, November 27, 1859

Charlestown, Jefferson County, Va., Nov. 27, 1859.

My Dear Miss Sterns, — Your most kind and cheering letter of the 18th instant is received. Although I have not been at all low-spirited or cast down in feeling since being imprisoned and under sentence (which I am fully aware is soon to be carried out), it is exceedingly gratifying to learn from friends that there are not wanting in this generation some to sympathize with me and appreciate my motive, even now that I am whipped. Success is in general the standard of all merit. I have passed my time here quite cheerfully; still trusting that neither my life nor my death will prove a total loss. As regards both, however, I am liable to mistake. It affords me some satisfaction to feel conscious of having at least tried to better the condition of those who are always on the under-hill side, and am in hopes of being able to meet the consequences without a murmur. I am endeavoring to get ready for another field of action, where no defeat befalls the truly brave. That “God reigns,” and most wisely, and controls all events, might, it would seem, reconcile those who believe it to much that appears to be very disastrous. I am one who has tried to believe that, and still keep trying. Those who die for the truth may prove to be courageous at last; so I continue "hoping on," till I shall find that the truth must finally prevail. I do not feel in the least degree despondent or degraded by my circumstances; and I entreat my friends not to grieve on my account. You will please excuse a very poor and short letter, as I get more than I can possibly answer. I send my best wishes to your kind mother, and to all the family, and to all the true friends of humanity. And now, dear friends, God be with you all, and ever guide and bless you!

Your friend,

John Brown.

SOURCES: Franklin B. Sanborn, The Life and Letters of John Brown, p. 607

John Brown to Mary Ann Day Brown, November 26, 1859

Charlestown, Jefferson County, Va., Nov. 26, 1859

. . . I remember the faithful old lady¹ well, but presume she has no recollection of me. I once set myself to oppose a mob at Boston, where she was. After I interfered, the police immediately took up the matter, and soon put a stop to mob proceedings. The meeting was, I think, in Marlboro Street Church, or Hotel, perhaps. I am glad to have you make the acquaintance of such old pioneers in the cause. I have just received from Mr. John Jay, of New York, a draft for fifty dollars for the benefit of my family, and will enclose it made payable to your order. I have also fifteen dollars to send to our crippled and destitute unmarried son. When I can I intend to send you, by express, two or three little articles to carry home. Should you happen to meet with Mr. Jay, say to him that you fully appreciate his great kindness both to me and my family. God bless all such friends! It is out of my power to reply to all the kind and encouraging letters I get: I wish I could do so. I have been so much relieved from my lameness for the last three or four days as to be able to sit up to read and write pretty much all day, as well as part of the night; and I do assure you and all other friends that I am quite busy, and none the less happy on that account. The time passes quite pleasantly, and the near approach of my great change is not the occasion of any particular dread.

I trust that God, who has sustained me so long, will not forsake me when I most feel my need of Fatherly aid and support. Should he hide his face, my spirit will droop and die; hut not otherwise, be assured. My only anxiety is to be properly assured of my fitness for the company of those who are “washed from all filthiness,” and for the presence of Him who is infinitely pure. I certainly think I do have some “hunger and thirst after righteousness.” If it be only genuine, I make no doubt I “shall be filled.” Please let all our friends read my letters when you can; and ask them to accept of it as in part for them. I am inclined to think you will not be likely to succeed well about getting away the bodies of your family; but should that be so, do not let that grieve you. It can make but little difference what is done with them.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

You can well remember the changes you have passed through. Life is made up of a series of changes, and let us try to meet them in the best manner possible. You will not wish to make yourself and children any more burdensome to friends than you are really compelled to do. I would not.

I will close this by saying that if you now feel that you are equal to the undertaking, do exactly as you feel disposed to do about coming to see me before I suffer. I am entirely willing.

Your affectionate husband,

John Brown.

_______________

¹ Mrs. Mott

SOURCES: Franklin B. Sanborn, The Life and Letters of John Brown, p. 605-6

John Brown to Dr. Heman Humphrey, November 25, 1859

Charlestown, Jefferson County, Va., Nov. 25, 1859.

Rev. Heman Humphrey, D.D.

My Dear And Honored Kinsman, — Your very sorrowful, kind, and faithful letter of the 20th instant is now before me. I accept it with all kindness. I have honestly endeavored to profit by the faithful advice it contains. Indeed, such advice could never come amiss. You will allow me to say that I deeply sympathize with you and all my sorrowing friends in their grief and terrible mortification. I feel ten times more afflicted on their account than on account of my own circumstances. But I must say that I am neither conscious of being “infatuated” nor “mad.” You will doubtless agree with me in this, — that neither imprisonment, irons, nor the gallows falling to one's lot are of themselves evidence of either guilt, “infatuation, or madness.”

I discover that you labor under a mistaken impression as to some important facts, which my peculiar circumstances will in all probability prevent the possibility of my removing; and I do not propose to take up any argument to prove that any motion or act of my life is right. But I will here state that I know it to be wholly my own fault as a leader that caused our disaster. Of this you have no proper means of judging, not being on the ground, or a practical soldier. I will only add, that it was in yielding to my feelings of humanity (if I ever exercised such a feeling), in leaving my proper place and mingling with my prisoners to quiet their fears, that occasioned our being caught. I firmly believe that God reigns, and that he overrules all things in the best possible manner; and in that view of the subject I try to be in some degree reconciled to my own weaknesses and follies even.

If you were here on the spot, and could be with me by day and by night, and know the facts and how my time is spent here, I think you would find much to reconcile your own mind to the ignominious death I am about to suffer, and to mitigate your sorrow. I am, to say the least, quite cheerful. “He shall begin to deliver Israel out of the hand of the Philistines.” This was said of a poor erring servant many years ago; and for many years I have felt a strong impression that God had given me powers and faculties, unworthy as I was, that he intended to use for a similar purpose. This most unmerited honor Ho has seen fit to bestow; and whether, like the same poor frail man to whom I allude, my death may not be of vastly more value than my life is, I think quite beyond all human foresight I really have strong hopes that notwithstanding all my many sins, I too may yet die “in faith.”

If you do not believe I had a murderous intention (while I know I had not), why grieve so terribly on my account? The scaffold has but few terrors for me. God has often covered my head in the day of battle, and granted me many times deliverances that were almost so miraculous that I can scarce realize their truth; and now, when it seems quite certain that he intends to use me in a different way, shall I not most cheerfully go? I may be deceived, but I humbly trust that he will not forsake me “till I have showed his favor to this generation and his strength to every one that is to come.” Your letter is most faithfully and kindly written, and I mean to profit by it. I am certainly quite grateful for it. I feel that a great responsibility rests upon me as regards the lives of those who have fallen and may yet fall. I must in that view cast myself on the care of Him “whose mercy endureth forever.” If the cause in which I engaged in any possible degree approximated to be “infinitely better” than the one which Saul of Tarsus undertook, I have no reason to be ashamed of it; and indeed I cannot now, after more than a month for reflection, find in my heart (before God in whose presence I expect to stand within another week) any cause for shame.

I got a long and most kind letter from your pure-hearted brother Luther, to which I replied at some length. The statement that seems to be going around in the newspapers that I told Governor Wise that I came on here to seek revenge for the wrongs of either myself or my family, is utterly false. I never intended to convey such an idea, and I bless God that I am able even now to say that I have never yet harbored such a feeling. See testimony of witnesses who were with me while I had one son lying dead by my side, and another mortally wounded and dying on my other side. I do not believe that Governor Wise so understood, and I think he ought to correct that impression. The impression that we intended a general insurrection is equally untrue.

Now, my much beloved and much respected kinsman, farewell. May the God of our fathers save and abundantly bless you and yours!

John Brown.

SOURCES: Franklin B. Sanborn, The Life and Letters of John Brown, p. 603-5

John Brown to Reverend McFarland, Wednesday, November 23, 1859

Jail, Charlestown, Wednesday, Nov. 23, 1859.

The Rev. Mcfarland.

Dear Friend, — Although you write to me as a stranger, the spirit you show towards me and the cause for which I am in bonds makes me feel towards you as a dear friend. I would be glad to have you or any of my liberty-loving ministerial friends here, to talk and pray with me. I am not a stranger to the way of salvation by Christ. From my youth I have studied much on that subject, and at one time hoped to be a minister myself; but God had another work for me to do. To me it is given, in behalf of Christ, not only to believe on him, but also to suffer for his sake. But while I trust that I have some experimental and saving knowledge of religion, it would be a great pleasure to me to have some one better qualified than myself to lead my mind in prayer and meditation, now that my time is so near a close. You may wonder, are there no ministers of the gospel here? I answer, no. There are no ministers of Christ here. These ministers who profess to be Christian, and hold slaves or advocate slavery, I cannot abide them. My knees will not bend in prayer with them, while their hands are stained with the blood of souls. The subject you mention as having been preaching on the day before you wrote to me is one which I have often thought of since my imprisonment. I think I feel as happy as Paul did when he lay in prison. He knew if they killed him, it would greatly advance the cause of Christ; that was the reason he rejoiced so. On that same ground “I do rejoice, yea, and will rejoice.”  Let them hang me; I forgive them, and may God forgive them, for they know not what they do. I have no regret for the transaction for which I am condemned. I went against the laws of men, it is true, but “whether it be right to obey God or men, judge ye.” Christ told me to remember them that were in bonds as bound with them, to do towards them as I would wish them to do towards me in similar circumstances. My conscience bade me do that. I tried to do it, but failed. Therefore I have no regret on that score. I have no sorrow either as to the result, only for my poor wife and children. They have suffered much, and it is hard to leave them uncared for. But God will be a husband to the widow and a father to the fatherless.

I have frequently been in Wooster, and if any of my old friends from about Akron are there, you can show them this letter. I have but a few more days, and I feel anxious to be away “where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest.” Farewell.

Your friend, and the friend of all friends of liberty,

John Brown.

SOURCES: Franklin B. Sanborn, The Life and Letters of John Brown, p. 598-9

John Brown to His Younger Children, November 22, 1859

Charlestown, Jefferson County, Va., Nov. 22, 1859.

Dear Children, All, — I address this letter to you, supposing that your mother is not yet with yon. She has not yet come here, as I have requested her not to do at present, if at all. She may think it best for her not to come at all. She has (or will), I presume, written yon before this. Annie's letter to us both, of the 9th, has but just readied me. I am very glad to get it, and to learn that you are in any measure cheerful. This is the greatest comfort I can have, except that it would be to know that you are all Christians. God in mercy grant you all may be so! That is what yon all will certainly need. When and in what form death may come is but of small moment. I feel just as content to die for God's eternal truth and for suffering humanity on the scaffold as in any other way; and I do not say this from any disposition to “brave it out.” No; I would readily own my wrong were I in the least convinced of it. I have now been confined over a month, with a good opportunity to look the whole thing as “fair in the face” as I am capable of doing; and I now feel it most grateful that I am counted in the least possible degree worthy to suffer for the truth. I want you all to “be of good cheer.” This life is intended as a season of training, chastisement, temptation, affliction, and trial; and the “righteous shall come out of” it all. Oh, my dear children, let me again entreat you all to “forsake the foolish, and live.” What can you possibly lose by such a course? “Godliness with contentment is great gain, having the promise of the life that now is, and of that which is to come.” “Trust in the Lord and do good, so shalt thou dwell in the land; and verily thou shalt be fed.” I have enjoyed life much; why should I complain on leaving it? I want some of you to write mo a little more particularly about all that concerns your welfare. I intend to write you as often as I can. “To God and the word of his grace I commend you all.”

Your affectionate father,

John Brown.

SOURCES: Franklin B. Sanborn, The Life and Letters of John Brown, p. 596-7

John Brown to his former teacher, Reverend Herman L. Vaill, November 15, 1859

Charlestown, Jefferson County, Va., Nov. 15, 1859.

Rev. H. L. Vaill.

My Dear, Steadfast Friend, — Your most kind and most welcome letter of the 8th inst. reached me in due time. I am very grateful for all the good feeling you express, and also for the kind counsels you give, together with your prayers in my behalf. Allow me here to say, notwithstanding “my soul is among lions,” still I believe that “God in very deed is with me.” You will not, therefore, feel surprised when I tell you that I am “joyful in all my tribulations;” that I do not feel condemned of Him whose judgment is just, nor of my own conscience. Nor do I feel degraded by my imprisonment, my chains, or prospect of the gallows. I have not only been (though utterly unworthy) permitted to “suffer affliction with God’s people,” but have also had a great many rare opportunities for “preaching righteousness in the great congregation.” I trust it will not all be lost. The jailer (in whose charge I am) and his family and assistants have all been most kind; and notwithstanding he was one of the bravest of all who fought me, he is now being abused for his humanity. So far as my observation goes, none but brave men are likely to be humane to a fallen foe. “Cowards prove their courage by their ferocity.” It may be done in that way with but little risk.

I wish I could write you about a few only of the interesting times I here experience with different classes of men, clergymen among others. Christ, the great captain of liberty as well as of salvation, and who began his mission, as foretold of him, by proclaiming it, saw fit to take from me a sword of steel after I had carried it for a time; but he has put another in my hand (“the sword of the Spirit”), and I pray God to make me a faithful soldier, wherever he may send me, not less on the scaffold than when surrounded by my warmest sympathizers.

My dear old friend, I do assure you I have not forgotten our last meeting, nor our retrospective look over the route by which God bad then led us; and I bless his name that he has again enabled me to hear your words of cheering and comfort at a time when I, at least, am on the “brink of Jordan.” (See Bunyan's “Pilgrim.”) God in infinite mercy grant us soon another meeting on the opposite shore. I have often passed under the rod of him whom I call my Father, — and certainly no son ever needed it oftener; and yet I have enjoyed much of life, as I was enabled to discover the secret of this somewhat early. It has been in making the prosperity and happiness of others my own; so that really I have had a great deal of prosperity. I am very prosperous still; and looking forward to a time when “peace on earth and good-will to men” shall everywhere prevail, I have no murmuring thoughts or envious feelings to fret my mind. “I’ll praise my Maker with my breath.”

I am an unworthy nephew of Deacon John, and I loved him much; and in view of the many choice friends I have had here, I am led the more earnestly to pray, “gather not my soul with the unrighteous.”

Your assurance of the earnest sympathy of the friends in my native land is very grateful to my feelings; and allow me to say a word of comfort to them.

As I believe most firmly that God reigns, I cannot believe that anything I have done, suffered, or may yet suffer will be lost to the cause of God or of humanity. And before I began my work at Harper's Ferry, I felt assured that in the worst event it would certainly pay. I often expressed that belief; and I can now see no possible cause to alter my mind. I am not as yet, in the main, at all disappointed. I have been a good deal disappointed as it regards myself in not keeping up to my own plans; but I now feel entirely reconciled to that, even, — for God's plan was infinitely better, no doubt, or I should have kept to my own. Had Samson kept to his determination of not telling Delilah wherein his great strength lay, he would probably have never overturned the house. I did not tell Delilah, but I was induced to act very contrary to my better judgment; and I have lost my two noble boys, and other friends, if not my two eyes.

But “God's will, not mine, be done.” I feel a comfortable hope that, like that erring servant of whom I have just been writing, even I may (through infinite mercy in Christ Jesus) yet “die in faith.” As to both the time and manner of my death, — I have but very little trouble on that score, and am able to be (as you exhort) “of good cheer.”

I send, through you, my best wishes to Mrs. W——.¹ and her son George, and to all dear friends. May the God of the poor and oppressed be the God and Savior of you all!

Farewell, till we meet again.

Your friend in truth,

John Brown.

_______________

¹ The Rev. Leonard Woolscy Bacon, then of Litchfield, Conn., who first printed this letter, said in 1859: “My aged friend, the Rev. H. L. Vail, of this place, remembers John Brown as having been under his instruction in the year 1817, at Morris Academy. He was a godly youth, laboring to recover from his disadvantages of early education, in the hope of entering the ministry of the Gospel. Since then the teacher and pupil have met but once. But a short time since, Mr. Vaill wrote to Brown, in his prison, a letter of Christian friendship, to which he has received this heroic and sublime reply. I have copied it faithfully from the autograph that lies before me, without the change or omission of a word, except to omit the full name of the friends to whom he sends his message. The handwriting is clear and firm, but toward the end of the sheet seems to show that the sick old man's hand was growing weary. The very characters make an appeal to us for our sympathy and prayers. ‘His salutation with his own hand. Remember his bonds.’”

SOURCES: Franklin B. Sanborn, The Life and Letters of John Brown, p. 589-91

John Brown to George Adams, Boston, November 15, 1859

Charlestown, Jefferson County, Va., Nov. 15, 1859.

My Dear Sir, — Your kind mention of some things in my conduct here which you approve is very comforting, indeed, to my mind. Yet I am conscious that you do me no more than justice. I do certainly feel that through Divine grace I have endeavored to be “faithful in a few things,” mingling with even these much of imperfection. I am certainly “unworthy even to suffer affliction with the people of God;” yet in infinite grace he has thus honored me. May the same grace enable me to serve him in a “new obedience” through my little remainder of this life, and to rejoice in him forever. I cannot feel that God will suffer even the poorest service we may any of us render him or his cause to be lost or in vain. I do feel, dear brother, that I am wonderfully “strengthened from on high.” May I use that strength in “showing His strength unto this generation,” and His power to every one that is to come! I am most grateful for your assurance that my poor, shattered, heart-broken family will not be forgotten. I have long tried to recommend them to “the God of my fathers.” I have many opportunities for faithful plain-dealing with the more powerful, influential, and intelligent classes in this region, which I trust are not entirely misimproved. I humbly trust that I firmly believe that “God reigns,” and I think I can truly say, “Let the earth rejoice!” May God take care of his own cause, and of his own great name, as well as of those who love their neighbors. Farewell!

Yours in truth,

John Brown

SOURCES: Franklin B. Sanborn, The Life and Letters of John Brown, p. 588-9

John Brown to Jeremiah Brown, Post Script November 13, 1859

November 13.

P. S. Say to my poor boys never to grieve for one moment on my account; and should many of you live to see the time when you will not blush to own your relation to Old John Brown, it will not be more strange than many things that have happened. I feel a thousand times more on account of my sorrowing friends than on my own account. So far as I am concerned, I “count it all joy.” “I have fought the good fight,” and have, as I trust, “finished my course.” Please show this to any of my family that you may see. My love to all; and may God, in his infinite mercy, for Christ’s sake, bless and save you all!

Your affectionate brother,

J. Brown.

SOURCES: Franklin B. Sanborn, The Life and Letters of John Brown, p. 588

John Brown to Rebecca Buffum Spring,* November 8, 1859

Charlestown, Jefferson County, Va., Nov. 8, 1859.

Mrs. Rebecca B. Spring.

My Dear Friend, — When you get home, please enclose this to Mrs. John Brown, North Elba, Essex County, N. Y. It will comfort her broken heart to know that I received it. Captain Avis will kindly let you see what I have written her. May the God of my fathers bless and reward you a thousandfold; and may all yours be partakers of his infinite grace!

Yours ever,

John Brown.

Nov. 9.

P. S. Will try to write you at your home. I forgot to acknowledge the receipt of your bounty. It is hard for me to write, on account of my lameness.

Yours in truth,

J. B.

_______________

* “Written by John Brown on the back of a note sent by him to Mrs. Marcus Spring. This note and indorsement is now in my possession.” — James Freeman Clarke, January, 1883.

SOURCES: Franklin B. Sanborn, The Life and Letters of John Brown, p. 587

John Brown to His Family, November 8, 1859

Charlestown, Jefferson County, Va., Nov. 8, 1859.

Dear Wife And Children, Every One, — I will begin by saying that I have in some degree recovered from my wounds, but that I am quite weak in my back and 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 everything I could desire to make me comfortable, and the little I do lack (some 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 and 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 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 her 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 a final separation. 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, and by all sorts of creatures, and by all sorts of papers, throughout the whole country. Again, it is my most decided judgment 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. Oh, Mary! do not come, but patiently wait for the meeting of those who love God and their fellow-men, where no separation must follow. “They shall go no more out forever.” I greatly long to hear from some one of you, and to learn anything that in any way affects your welfare. I sent you ten dollars the other day; did you get it? I have also endeavored to stir up Christian friends to visit 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 Captain John Avis, Charlestown, Jefferson County, Virginia.

“Finally, my beloved, be of good comfort.” May all your names be “written in the Lamb's 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.

SOURCES: Franklin B. Sanborn, The Life and Letters of John Brown, p. 585-7

John Brown to His Family, November 9, 1859

Nov. 9.

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.

J. B.

SOURCES: Franklin B. Sanborn, The Life and Letters of John Brown, p. 587