From B. K. M., an Ohio Clergyman, to John Brown, November 26, 1859

Cincinnati, Ohio, Nov. 26.

My Dear Christian Brother: I hope you will not consider it impertinent or intrusive in me to write you. I am only a stranger to you; but, as a minister of Christ, I feel anxious to send you some word of encouragement and consolation at this trying moment of your life, standing as you do under the very shadow of approaching doom. The executors of penal law, under which you are held, manifest no disposition to relent or mitigate the rigors of the penalty pronounced upon you. I therefore feel that in coming to you by this epistle I am intruding upon you in the midst of reflections and solemnities inconceivably momentous and sacred. Of the brief and waning period allowed you by your captors, only six days now remain, and by the time this shall meet your eye this meagre fragment of space will have dwindled to hours, and the gloomy death-pageant preparing to encircle your execution will be about ready for the gaze of eager thousands, whom sympathy, curiosity, or hatred will gather together. I long to say something to you that may in some way breathe consolation and inspire fresh and holy outgoings of hope, courage and confidence in God. And yet I know God is with you, and his presence and favor are infinitely better and dearer than any sympathy and condolence of your brethren in Christ. And yet I know that a sad yet hopeful, a painful yet prayerful, remembrance of you by those who are in spirit with you, while widely separated from you, will not be painful to you nor unacceptable to God.

I most fervently pray that you may find, through Divine Grace, that however severe the trial that approaches, and however sad all that is now passing upon you may be," according to your day so shall your strength be." God exercises His government in wisdom, love, and mercy, and he does and will overrule all things for His glory and the final good and salvation of all that put their trust in Him. Fear not; God will gird thee with strength, and give a meetness and a divine readiness for your great trials; and may he turn your captivity and death, if you must die, to His glory and the final deliverance of all the oppressed of this land. "Faithful is He that hath called you, who also will do it."

The events that have been brought about recently through your agency have convulsed the nation, and stirred the popular heart to its utmost depth, and the minions of oppression have been made to quake with fear. What is to be the result God only knows, but this, I think, is already apparent, the cause of Freedom is immeasurably stronger than it was before you struck your blow at Harper's Ferry, and were permitted to stand forth a captive among slaveholders and doomed to die.

I herewith inclose you a few lines which I have penned almost involuntarily upon one of the most heroic sentences that have been pronounced in modern times, which the public prints record as yours. This alone is enough to give glory to your captivity; and the spirit that could give utterance to it will make your death a triumph, both for yourself and suffering humanity. Very truly and sympathetically,

Your brother in Christ,

B. K. M.

P. S. Should time and your dying condition permit, write merely enough to say you have received this, and send in the enclosed envelope. Such a note will be received as a memento from a dying brother in Christ, and martyr for the cause of our oppressed fellow men.

 

THE HOARY CONVICT.

 

“I do not know that I can better serve the cause I love so much than by dying for it.” 

— JOHN BROWN, in prison.

 

Brave man! whate'er the world may think of thee,
    Howe'er in judgment hold thy daring deeds,
Men cannot fail in every step to see
    This is no craven heart that beats and bleeds.

Kind friends proclaim thy ardent mind unstrung —
    A maniac only heard the bondman sigh;
While foes alarmed have quivering curses flung,
    And deem it mercy even to let thee die.

But friends and foes to thee are all the same,
    Who drink not at the fount where thou hast stood;
With thee one thought has nursed the hidden flame;
    Thy fettered brother claims the common blood.

To lift Him from Oppression's iron heel
    Became with thee a purpose, then a cause;
Thy life-long madness was a power to feel —
    That gush of feeling wrote thy code of laws.

Thy abject brother doubled in thy sight
    Grew into numbers as the vision rose,
Then stood a nation, without power or might.
    And all their weakness plead against their foes.

The cause of man loomed grandly on thy sight;
    Man, crushed and feeble, was thy rallying cry;
Its wail charmed strangely to the unequal fight.
    To give them Freedom, or to bravely die.

Hadst thou thus dared 'neath far Italia's sky
    Men would have shouted pæans to thy name;
History would dared her highest skill to try,
    And on a spotless page embalmed thy fame.

But thou hast struck on thine own country's plains
    For hosts who crouch where shouts for Freedom flow;
Hosts of a dusky brow, condemned to chains,
    For whom the bravest dared not strike a blow.

Men grudge thee now a felon's gloomy cells,
    And, restive, wail a felon's doom at morn;
Reproach loads every breeze that round thee swells,
    And heaven's own light comes mixed with human scorn.

Oppression hastes to drink thy flowing blood,
    And dip her iron hoof in costly gore;
But right shall strengthen with the might of God,
    And thou, when slain, be mightier than before.

Yon captive hosts shall rise from tears and chains,
    And kneel redeemed at God's own scat ere long;
Then thou shalt rise, and Freedom's festive strains
    Shall give thy memory to immortal song.

Go, then, and die! thy scarred, heroic form
    And hoary locks may grace a scaffold high,
But thy loved Cause shall live beyond the storm,
    And thou canst best subserve it now to die!

SOURCE: James Redpath, Editor, Echoes of Harper’s Ferry, p. 398-401