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
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