Wendell Phillips on the Puritan Principle,* December 18, 1859

I THANK GOD for John Calvin. To be sure, he burned Servetus; but the Puritans, or at least, their immediate descendants, hung the witches; George Washington held slaves; and wherever you go up and down history, you find men, not angels. Of course, you find imperfect men; but you find great men; men who have marked their own age, and moulded the succeeding; men to whose might, daring, and to whose disinterested suffering for those about them, the succeeding generations owe the larger share of their blessings; men whose lips and lives God has made the channel through which his choicest gifts come to their fellow-beings. John Calvin was one of these — perhaps the profoundest intellect of his day; certainly, one of the largest statesmen of his generation. His was the statesmanlike mind that organized Puritanism, that put ideas into the shape of institutions, and in that way organized victory, when, under Loyola, Catholicism, availing itself of the shrewdest and keenest machinery, made its reactive assault upon the new idea of the Protestant religion. If in that struggle Western Europe came out victorious, we owe it more to the statesmanship of Calvin than to the large German heart of Luther. We owe to Calvin — at least it is not unfair to claim, nor improbable in the sequence of events to suppose, that a large share of those most eminent and excellent characteristics of New England, which have made her what she is, and saved her for the future, came from the brain of John Calvin.

Luther's biography is to be read in books. The plodding patience of the German intellect has gathered up every trait and every trifle — the minutest — of his life, and you may read it spread out with loving admiration on a thousand pages of biography. Calvin's life is written, in Scotland and New England, in the triumphs of the people against priestcraft and power. To him, more than to any other man, the Puritans owed Republicanism — the Republicanism of the Church. The instinct of his own day recognized that clearly distinguishing this element of Calvinism. You see it in the wit of Charles the Second, when he said, "Calvinism is a religion unfit for a gentleman." It was unfit for a gentleman of that day; for it was a religion of the people. It recognized — first since the earliest centuries of Christianity — that the heart of God beats through every human heart, and that when you mass up the millions, with their instinctive, fair-play sense of right, and their devotional impulses, you get nearer God's heart than from the second-hand scholarship and conservative tendency of what are called the thoughtful and educated classes. We owe this element, good or bad, to Calvinism.

Then we owe to it a second element, marking the Puritans most largely, and that is — action. The Puritan was not a man of speculation. He originated nothing. His principles are to be found broadcast in the centuries behind him. His speculations were all old. You might find them in the lectures of Abelard; you meet with them in the radicalism of Wat Tyler; you find them all over the continent of Europe. The distinction between his case and that of others was, simply, that he practised what he believed. He believed God. He actually believed him, just as much as if he saw demonstrated before his eyes the truth of the principle. For it is a very easy thing to say; the difficulty is to do. If you tell a man the absolute truth, that if he will plunge into the ocean, and only keep his eyes fixed on heaven, he will never sink you can demonstrate it to him — you can prove it to him by weight and measure — each man of a thousand will believe you, as they say; and then they will plunge into the water, and nine hundred and ninety-nine will throw up their arms to clasp some straw or neighbor, and sink; the thousandth will keep his hands by his body, believing God, and float — and he is the Puritan. Every other man wants to get hold of something to stay himself; not on faith in God's eternal principle of natural or religious law, but on his neighbor; he wants to lean on somebody; he wants to catch hold of something. The Puritan puts his hands to his side and his eyes upon heaven, and floats down the centuries Faith personified.

These two elements of Puritanism are, it seems to me, those which have made New England what she is. You see them every where developing into institutions. For instance, if there is any thing that makes us, and that made Scotland, it is common schools. We got them from Geneva. Luther said, "A wicked tyrant is better than a wicked war." It was the essence of aristocracy: "Better submit to any evil from above than trust the masses." Calvin no sooner set his foot in Geneva than he organized the people into a constituent element of public affairs. He planted education at the root of the Republic. The Puritans borrowed it in Holland, and brought it to New England, and it is the sheet-anchor that has held us amid the storms and the temptations of two hundred years. We have a people that can think; a people that can read; and out of the millions of refuse lumber, God selects one in a generation, and he is enough to save a State. One man that thinks for himself is the salt of a generation poisoned with printing ink or cotton dust. The Puritans scattered broadcast the seeds of thought. They knew it was an error, in counting up the population, to speak of a million of souls because there were a million of bodies — as if every man carried a soul! — but they knew, trusting the mercy of God, that by educating all, the martyrs and the saints — that do not travel in battalions, nor ever come to us in regiments, but come alone, now and then one — would be reached and unfolded, and save their own times. Puritanism, therefore, is action; it is impersonating ideas; it is distrusting and being willing to shake off, at fitting times, what are called institutions. They were above words; they went out into the wilderness, outside of forms. The consequence was that, throughout their whole history, there is the most daring confidence in being substantially right. They asked not of safety; they never were frightened by appearances; they did the substantially right thing, and left the statesmen of a hundred years after, at a safe distance, to find out the reasons why they were right. The consequence is that, when conservatism comes together to-day, whether in the form of a "Union meeting" — dead men turning in their graves and pretending to be alive — whether it be in this form or any other, its occupation is to explain how, a hundred years ago, the course taken was right, and not to see the reflection of a hundred years ago staring them in the face to-day. Like the sitting figure on our coin, they are looking back-they have no eyes for the future. The souls that God touches have their brows gilded by the dawn of the future. A man present at the glorious martyrdom of the 2d of December, said of the hero-saint who marched out of the jail, "He seemed to come, his brow radiant with triumph." It was the dawn of a future day that gilded his brow. He was high enough, in the providence of God, to catch, earlier than the present generation, the dawn of the day that he was to inaugurate.

This is my idea of Puritan principles.

Nothing new in them. How are we to vindicate them? Eminent historians and patriots have told us that the pens of the Puritans are their best witnesses. It does not seem to me so. We are their witnesses. If they lived to any purpose, they produced a generation better than themselves. The true man always makes himself to be outdone by his child. The vindication of Puritanism is a New England bound to be better than Puritanism; bound to look back and see its faults and meet the exigencies of the present day, not with stupid imitation, but with that essential disinterestedness, that faith in right and God, with which they met the exigencies of their time. Take an illustration. When our fathers stood in London, under the corporation charter of Charles, the question was, "Have we a right to remove to Massachusetts?" The lawyers said, "No." The fathers said, "Yes; we will remove to Massachusetts, and let law find the reason fifty years hence." They knew that they had the substantial right. Their motto was not "Law and Order"; it was "God and Justice" — a much better motto. Unless you take "Law and Order" in the highest meaning of the words, it is a base motto — if it means only recognizing the majority. "Crime," says Victor Hugo, "comes to history gilded and crowned, and says, 'I am not crime; I am success." And history, written by a soul girded with parchments and stunned with half a dozen languages, says, "Yes, thou art success; we accept thee." But the faithful soul below cries out, "Thou art crime! Avaunt!" There is so much in words.

This is the lesson of Puritanism—how shall we meet it to-day? Every age stereotypes its ideas into forms. It is the natural tendency; and when it is done, every age grows old and dies. It is God's beneficent providence — death When ideas have shaped themselves and become fossil and still, God takes off the weight of the dead men from their age, and leaves room for the new bud. It is a blessed institution — death! But there are men running about who think that those forms, which the old and the experience of the past have left them, are necessarily right and indispensable. They are Conservatives. The men who hold their ears open for the message of the present hour, they are the Puritans.

I know these things seem very trite; they are very trite. All truth is trite. The difficulty is not in truth. Truth never stirs up any trouble mere speculative truth. Plato taught— nobody cared what he taught; Socrates applied truth in the streets, and they poisoned him. It is when a man throws himself against society that society is startled to persecute and to think. The Puritan did not stop to think. He recognized God in his soul, and acted. If he acted wrong, our generation would load down his grave with curses. He took the risk. He took the curses of the present, but the blessings of the future swept them away, and God's sunlight rests upon his grave. That is what every brave man does. It is an easy thing to say. The old fable is of Sysiphus rolling up a stone, and the moment he gets it up to the mountain top, it rolls back again. So each generation, with much trouble, and great energy and disinterestedness, vindicates for a few of its sons the right to think; and the moment they have vindicated the right, the stone rolls back again — nobody else must think! The battle must be fought every day, because the body rebels against the soul. It is the insurrection of the soul against the body-free thought. The gods piled Ætna upon the insurgent Titans. It is the emblem of the world piling mountains—banks, gold, cotton, parties, Everetts, Cushings, Couriers — every thing dull and heavy—to keep down thought. And ever again, in each generation, the living soul, like the bursting bud, throws up the incumbent soil, and finds its way to the sunshine and to God; and is the oak of the future, leafing out, spreading its branches, and sheltering the race and time that is to come.

I hold in my hand the likeness of a child of seventeen summers, taken from the body of a boy, her husband, who lies buried on the banks of the Shenandoah. He flung himself against a State for an idea; the child of a father who lived for an idea; who said, "I know that Slavery is wrong; thou shalt do unto another as thou wouldst have another do to thee" — and flung himself against the law and order of his time. Nobody can dispute his principles. There are men who dispute his acts. It is exactly what he meant they should do. It is the collision of admitted principles with conduct which is the teaching of ethics; it is the Normal school of a generation. Puritanism went up and down England and fulfilled its mission. It revealed despotism. Charles the First and James, in order to rule, were obliged to persecute. Under the guise of what seemed government, they had hidden tyranny. Patriotism tore off the mask, and said to the enlightened conscience and sleeping intellect of England, "Behold! that is despotism!" It was the first lesson; it was the text of the English Revolution. Men still slumbered in submission to law. They tore off the semblance of law; they revealed despotism. John Brown has done the same for us to-day. The Slave system has lost its fascination. It had a certain picturesque charm for some. It called itself "chivalry," and "a state." One assault has broken the charm—it is Despotism! Look how barbarous it is! Take a single instance. A young girl throws herself upon the bosom of a Northern boy, who himself had shown mercy, and endeavors to save him from the Christian rifles of Virginia. They tore her off, and the pitiless bullet found its way to the brave young heart. She stands upon the streets of that very town, and dare not avow the motive—glorious, humane instinct—that led her to throw herself on the bosom of the hapless boy! She bows to the despotism of a brutal State, and makes excuses for her humanity! That is the Christian Virginia of 1859. In 1608, an Indian girl flung herself before her father's tomahawk on the bosom of an English gentleman, and the Indian refrained from touching the traveller whom his daughter's affection protected. Pocahontas lives to-day, the ideal beauty of Virginia, and her proudest names strive to trace their lin eage to the brave Indian girl. That was Pagan Virginia, two centuries and a half ago.

What has dragged her down from Pocahontas in 1608 to John Brown in 1859, when humanity is disgraceful, and despotism treads it out under its iron heel? — who revealed it? One brave act of an old Puritan soul, that did not stop to ask what the majority thought, or what forms were, but acted. The revelation of despotism is the great lesson which the Puritan of our month has taught us. He has flung himself, under the instinct of a great idea, against the institutions beneath which we sit; and he says, practically, to the world, as the Puritan did, "If I am a felon, bury me with curses. I will trust to a future age to judge betwixt you and me. Posterity will summon the State to judgment, and will admit my principle. I can wait." Men say it is anarchy; that this right of the individual to sit in judgment cannot be trusted. It is the lesson of Puritanism. If the individual, criticising law, cannot be trusted, then Puritanism is a mistake; for the sanctity of individual judgment is the lesson of Massachusetts history in 1620 and '30. We accepted anarchy as the safest. The Puritan said, "Human nature is sinful"; so the earth is accursed since the Fall; but I cannot find any thing better than this old earth to build on; I must put up my corner-stone upon it, cursed as it is; I cannot lay hold of the battlements of heaven." So Puritanism said, "Human nature is sinful; but it is the best basis we have got. We will build upon it, and we will trust the influences of God, the inherent gravitation of the race towards right, that it will end right."

I affirm that this is the lesson of our history: that the world is fluid; that we are on the ocean; that we cannot get rid of the people, and we do not want to; that the millions are our basis; and that God has set us this task: "If you want good institutions, do not try to bulwark out the ocean of popular thought—educate it. If you want good laws, earn them." Conservatism says, "I can make my own hearthstone safe: I can build a bulwark of gold and bayonets about it high as heaven and deep as hell, and nobody can touch me, and that is enough." Puritanism says, "It is a delusion; it is a refuge of lies; it is not safe. The waters of popular instinct will carry it away. If you want your own cradle safe, make the cradle of every other man safe and pure. Educate the people up to the law you want." How? They cannot stop for books—show them manhood—show them a brave act. What has John Brown done for us? The world doubted over the horrid word "insurrection," whether the victim had a right to arrest the course of his master, and, even at any expense of blood, to vindicate his rights; and Brown said to his neighbors in the old school-house at North Elba, sitting among the snows—where nothing grows but men—wheat freezes—"I can go South, and show the world that he has a right to rise and can rise." He went, girded about by his household, carrying his sons with him. Proof of a life devoted to an idea! Not a single spasmodic act of greatness, coming out with no background, but the flowering of sixty years. The proof of it, that every thing around him grouped itself harmoniously, like the planets around the central sun. He went down to Virginia, took possession of a town, and held it. He says, "You thought this was strength; I demonstrate it is weakness. You thought this was civil society; I show you it is a den of pirates." Then he turned around in his sublimity, with his Puritan devotional heart, and said to the millions, "Learn!" And God lifted a million hearts to his gibbet, as the Roman cross lifted a million of hearts to it, in that divine sacrifice of two thousand years ago. To-day, more than a statesman could have taught in seventy years, one act of a week has taught these eighteen millions of people.

What shall it teach us? "Go thou and do likewise." Do it, by a resolute life. Do it, by a fearless rebuke. Do it, by preaching the sermon of which this act is the text. Do it, by standing by the great example which God has given us. Do it, by tearing asunder the veil of respectability which covers brutality, calling itself law. We had a "Union meeting" in this city a while ago. For the first time for a quarter of a century, political brutality dared to enter the sacredness of the sick chamber, and visit with ridicule the broken intellect, sheltered from criticism under the cover of sickness. Never, since I knew Boston, has any lip, however embittered, dared to open the door which God's hand had closed, making the inmate sacred, as he rested in broken health. The four thousand men who sat beneath the speaker are said to have received it in silence. If so, it can only be that they were not surprised at the brutality from such lips. And those who sat at his side—they judge us by our associates—they criticise us, in general, for the loud word of any comrade—shall we take the scholar of New England, and drag him down to the level of the brutal Swiss of politics, and judge him indecent because his associates were indecent? Gladly do I seize the opportunity of protesting, in the name of Boston decency, against the brutal language of a man,—thank God, not born on our peninsula,—against the noble and benighted intellect of Gerrit Smith, whom God bless with new health.

On that occasion, too, a noble island was calumniated. The New England scholar, bereft of every thing else on which to arraign the great movement in Virginia, takes up a lie about St. Domingo, and hurls it in the face of an ignorant audience—ignorant, because no man ever thought it worth while to do justice to the negro. Edward Everett would be the last to allow us to take an English version of Bunker Hill, to take an Englishman's account of Hamilton and Washington, when they ordered the scaffold of Andre, and read it to an American audience as a faithful description of the scene. But when he wants to malign a race, he digs up from the prejudice of an enemy they had conquered a forgotten lie—showing how weak was the cause he espoused, when the opposite must be assailed with falsehood, for it could not be assailed with any thing else. I said that they had gone to sleep, and only turned in their graves — those men in Faneuil Hall. It was not wholly true. The chairman came down from the heart of the Commonwealth, and spoke to Boston safe words in Faneuil Hall, for which he would have been lynched at Richmond, had he uttered them there that evening. I rejoice that a hunker cannot live in Massachusetts, without being wider awake than he imagines. He must imbibe fanaticism. Insurrection is epidemic in the State; treason is our inheritance. The Puritans planted it in the very structure of the State; and when their children try to curse a martyr, like the prophet of old, half the curse, at least, turns into a blessing. I thank God for that Massachusetts! Let us not blame our neighbors too much. There is something in the very atmosphere that stands above the ashes of the Puritans, that prevents the very most servile of hearts from holding a meeting which the despots of Virginia can relish. It is a hard task to be servile within forty miles of Plymouth. They have not learned the part; with all their wish, they play it awkwardly. It is the old, stiff Puritan trying to bend, and they do it with a marvellous lack of grace. I read encouragement in the very signs—the awkward attempts made to resist this very effort of the glorious martyr of the Northern hills of New York. Virginia herself looks into his face and melts; she has nothing but praises. She tries to scan his traits; they are too manly, and she bows. Her press can only speak of his manhood. One must get outside the influence of his personal presence before the slaves of Virginia can dig up a forgotten Kansas lie, and hurl it against the picture which Virginian admiration has painted. That does not come from Virginia. Northern men volunteer to do the work which Virginia, lifted for a moment by the sight of martyrdom, is unable to accomplish. A Newburyport man comes to Boston, and says that he knows John Brown was at the massacre of Pottawattomie. He was only twenty-five miles off! The Newburyport orator gets within thirty miles of the truth, and that is very near — for him! But Virginia was unable—mark you!—Virginia was unable to criticise. She could only bow. It is the most striking evidence of the majesty of the action.

There is one picture which stands out in bright relief in this event. On that mountain-side of the Adirondack, up among the snows, there is a plain cottage — "plain living, and high thinking," as Wordsworth says. Grouped there are a family of girls and boys, hardly over twenty; sitting supreme, the majestic spirit of a man just entering age—life one purpose. Other men breed their sons for ambition, avarice, trade; he breeds his for martyrdom, and they accept serenely their places. Hardly a book under its roof but the Bible. No sound so familiar as prayer. He takes them in his right hand and in his left, and goes down to the land of bondage. Like the old Puritans of two hundred years ago, the muskets are on one side and the pikes upon the other; but the morning prayer goes up from the domestic altar, as it did from the lips of Brewster and Carver, and no morsel is ever tasted without that same grace which was made at Plymouth and Salem; and at last he flings himself against the gigantic system, which trembles under his single arm. You measure the strength of a blow by the force of the rebound. Men thought Virginia a Commonwealth; he reveals it a worse than Austrian despotism. Neighbors dare not speak to each other; Courts cannot wait for the slow step of Saxon forms and safeguards; startled Judges have no time to take notes of testimony; no man can travel on the highway without a passport; the telegraph wires are sealed, except with a permit; the State shakes beneath the tramp of cannon and armed men. What does she fear? Conscience. The apostle has come to torment her, and he finds the weakest spot herself. She dares not trust the usual forms of justice. Arraigned in what she calls her court, is a wounded man, on a pallet, unable to stand. The civilized world stands aghast. She says, "It is necessary." Why? "I stand on a volcano. The Titans are heaving beneath the mountains. Thought—the earthquake of conscience—is below me." It is the acknowledgment of defeat. The Roman thought, when he looked upon the Cross, that it was the symbol of infamy — only the vilest felon hung there. One sacred sacrifice, and the cross nestles in our hearts, the emblem of every thing holy. Virginia erects her gibbet, repulsive in name and form. One man goes up from it to God, with two hundred thousand broken fetters in his hands, and henceforth it is sacred forever.

I said, that to vindicate Puritanism, the children must be better than the fathers. Lo, this event! Brewster, and Carver, and Bradford, and Winthrop faced a New England winter and defied law for themselves. For us, their children, they planted and sowed. They said, "Lo! our rights are trodden under foot; our cradles are not safe; our prayers may not ascend to God." They formed a State, and achieved that liberty. John Brown goes a stride beyond them. Under his own roof, he might pray at liberty; his own children wore no fetters. In the catalogue of Saxon heroes and martyrs, the Ridleys and the Latimers, he only saw men dying for themselves; in the brave souls of our own day, he saw men good as their fathers; but he leaped beyond them, and died for a race whose blood he did not share. This child of seventeen years gives her husband for a race into whose eyes she never looked. Braver than Carver or Winthrop, more disinterested than Bradford, broader than Hancock or Washington, pure as the brightest names on our catalogue — nearer God's heart, for, with a divine magnanimity he comprehended all races - Ridley and Latimer minister before him. He sits in that heaven of which he showed us the open door, with the great men of Saxon blood ministering below his feet. And yet they have a right to say, "We created him."

Lord Bacon, as he takes his march down the centuries, may put one hand on the telegraph and the other on the steam engine, and say, "These are mine, for I taught you to invent." So the Puritans may bless John Brown, and say, "You are ours, though you have gone beyond us, for we taught you to believe in God. We taught you to say, God is God, and trample wicked laws under your feet." And now, from that Virginia gibbet, he says to us, "The maxim I taught you, practise it! The principle I have shown you, apply it! If the crisis becomes sterner, meet it! If the battle is closer, be true to my memory! Men say my act was a failure. I showed what I promised, that the slave ought to resist, and could. Sixteen men I placed under the shelter of English law, and then I taught the millions. Prove that my enterprise was not a failure, by showing a North ready to stand behind it, I am willing, in God's service, to plunge with ready martyrdom into the chasm that opens in the forum, only show yourselves worthy to stand upon my grave!"

It seems to me that this is the lesson of Puritanism, as it is read to us to-day. "Law" and "order" are only names for the halting ignorance of the last generation. John Brown is the impersonation of God's order and God's law, moulding a better future, and setting for it an example.

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* A Discourse delivered before the Twenty-eighth Congregational Society, (Rev. Theodore Parker's,) in the Music Hall, Boston, on Sunday, December 18, 1859.

SOURCE: James Redpath, Editor, Echoes of Harper’s Ferry, pp. 105-18

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop, Sunday, August 2, 1864

The policy of enlisting negroes renders it harder for prisoners. So does the emancipation proclamation. The government having enlisted negroes, it is bound by laws of war and all honorable considerations to protect them as soldiers. To do otherwise would be dishonorable, cowardly, pernicious. Their enlistment more excited the unreasonable hatred of Southerners toward the North. The only way they can punish the North for what they deem insulting, is through their military prisons and they open their vials of wrath on "Lincoln hirelings," as they call us, who are wholly in their power. But the ever present fear of retaliation, man for man, men would be slain by hundreds, lined up and shot after being brought beyond the seat of war. As it is they come as near as they dare without displaying the black flag. Exchange was blocked last fall because Rebel authority disregards the negro as a man. That has long been a civil code of Slavedom. They adhere to it with a vengeance when he appears in arms against slavery. He is saved from slaughter if captured, on the theory that he is property, a theory in practice here for 100 years, or more. If any are escaped slaves they are to be returned to masters or used for war purposes indefinitely. If free they are appropriated as laborers, never exchanged, and if their war succeeds he can be sold. Hence the case of a white man is worse than that of a colored. He is deemed deserving of death because his government puts whites and blacks on an equality. The slave codes of the South, written and unwritten are in force, emphasized by the war power. This cruel and absurd animus of "Southern civilization," this unrighteous despotism, is of long standing. It is unquestioned by Southerners; woe be to him who disregarded it during the long arbitrary reign of Slave Kings. The mass accept it as right which is equivalent to thinking it right, and as men think so they are. Hence the critical situation of the white war prisoners at this time. We are wholly at the mercy of this cruel spirit which has transformed the South into a foe of everybody antagonistic to their customs and laws

Shall Lincoln recall his emancipation proclamation for the reason which as surely exists as we are at war? It makes it the deadliest war of any century. Nor should the policy of allowing negroes to fight for liberty be recalled. Shall free men cower and longer concede the injustices of this hell-born slave power? Indeed not. That is the issue-deadly issue to be fought to death. How well do I remember the word passed along the lines at Mine Run and other places last fall and winter: "No exchange of prisoners, men, remember." The same word sounded along the lines in the fiery ordeals in the Wilderness. The die was cast. We fought with it before our eyes. Who does not now realize its import? Davis seeks to supercede the laws of war with his old slave code. Soon after Lincoln's emancipation Davis notified his Congress that he proposed to turn commissioned officer's thereafter over to State authorities in States where captured to be punished under State laws providing for criminals engaged in inciting civil insurrection. That is his disposition, overlooking the fact that codes made to hang "abolition fanatics" can not be safely applied to war prisons in a state of war, where the States he represents are belligerents fighting for independence and asking for foreign recognition. Davis' blood-thirsty fanaticism for slavery, supercedes the intelligence he has been supposed to have and displays his savage inhumanity, thus seeking excuse to hang all U. S. officers.

[Note.—January 12, 1863, Davis, in a message to the Confederate Congress, said: "I shall, unless you, in your wisdom, deem some other course more expedient, deliver to the several State authorities all commissioned officers of the United States that may hereafter be captured by our forces in any of the States embraced in the proclamation, that they may be dealt within accordance with the laws of those States providing for the punishment of criminals engaged in inciting servile insurrection." Confederate War Records now at Washington. The same records show that in May, 1863, the Confederate Congress in its "wisdom," passed a law embodying the above suggestion, but confining its operation to commissioned officers of negro regiments. Negro soldiers, when captured, by its provisions were to be delivered to authorities of States where captured, to be disposed of according to the laws of those States. This law was never repealed, so that, as a legal proposition, any officer of a negro regiment who became a prisoner was liable to be hanged, as John Brown was at Harper's Ferry. The records also show that the prisoner problem was much discussed early in the war. A Yankee caught in slave States to "free niggers" prior to the war could be safely hanged under slave codes. Shallow minds, like Davis, assumed that it could still be done, others saw that having gone to war in the spirit that enacted the codes, they had barred themselves from exercising that sacred function. Some said make Uncle Sam feed them at his own expense though they be kept in the South. Others said starve them; others give them poor bread and water; others, break their legs and turn them loose. Some said make them build railroads or work in other ways to boost the Slave Confederacy.]

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, pp. 95-7

Victor Hugo to Editor of the London News, December 2, 1859

HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, Dec. 2, 1859.

SIR: When one thinks of the United States of America, a majestic figure rises to the mind—Washington. Now, in that country of Washington, see what is going on at this hour!

There are slaves in the Southern States, a fact which strikes with indignation, as the most monstrous of contradictions, the reasonable and freer conscience of the Northern States. These slaves, these negroes, a white man, a free man, one John Brown, wanted to deliver. Certainly, if insurrection be ever a sacred duty, it is against Slavery. Brown wished to begin the good work by the deliverance of the slaves in Virginia. Being a Puritan, a religious and austere man, and full of the Gospel, he cried aloud to these men — his brothers — the cry of emancipation "Christ has set us free!" The slaves, enervated by Slavery, made no response to his appeal — Slavery makes deafness in the soul. Brown, finding himself abandoned, fought with a handful of heroic men; he struggled; he fell, riddled with bullets; his two young sons, martyrs of a holy cause, dead at his side. This is what is called the Harper's Ferry affair.

John Brown, taken prisoner, has just been tried, with four of his fellows — Stephens, Coppoc, Green, and Copeland. What sort of trial it was, a word will tell.

Brown, stretched upon a truckle bed, with six half-closed wounds—a gun-shot wound in his arm, one in his loins, two in the chest, two in the head—almost bereft of hearing, bleeding through his mattress, the spirits of his two dead sons attending him; his four fellow-prisoners crawling around him; Stephens with four sabre wounds; "Justice" in a hurry to have done with the case; an attorney, Hunter, demanding that it be despatched with sharp speed; a Judge, Parker, absenting; the defence cut short; scarcely any delay allowed; forged or garbled documents put in evidence; the witnesses for the prisoner shut out; the defence clogged; two guns, loaded with grape, brought into the court, with an order to the jailers to shoot the prisoners in case of an attempt at rescue; forty minutes' deliberation; three sentences to death. I affirm, on my honor, that all this took place, not in Turkey, but in America.

Such things are not done with impunity in the face of the civilized world. The universal conscience of mankind is an ever-watchful eye. Let the Judge of Charlestown, and Hunter, and Parker, and the slave-holding jurors, and the whole population of Virginia, ponder it well: they are seen! They are not alone in the world. At this moment the gaze of Europe is fixed on America.

John Brown, condemned to die, was to have been hanged on the 2d of December—this very day. But news has this instant reached us. A respite is granted him. It is not until the 16th that he is to die. The interval is short. Has a cry of mercy time to make itself heard? No matter. It is a duty to lift up the voice.

Perhaps a second respite may be granted. America is a noble land. The sentiment of humanity is soon quickened among a free people. We hope that Brown may be saved. If it were otherwise—if Brown should die on the scaffold on the 16th of December—what a terrible calamity!

The executioner of Brown—let us avow it openly (for the day of the kings is past, and the day of the people dawns, and to the people we are bound frankly to speak the truth)—the executioner of Brown would be neither, the Attorney Hunter, nor the Judge Parker, nor the Governor Wise, nor the State of Virginia; it would be, we say it, and we think it with a shudder, the whole American Republic.

The more one loves, the more one admires, the more one reveres the Republic, the more heart-sick one feels at such a catastrophe. A single State ought not to have the power to dishonor all the rest, and in this ease federal intervention is a clear right. Otherwise, by hesitating to interfere when it might prevent a crime, the Union becomes an accomplice. No matter how intense may be the indignation of the generous Northern States, the Southern States associate them with the disgrace of this murder. All of us, whosoever we may be—for whom the democratic cause is a common country—feel ourselves in a manner compromised and hurt. If the scaffold should be erected on the 16th of December, the incorruptible voices of history would thenceforward testify that the august confederation of the New World had added to all its ties of holy brotherhood a brotherhood of blood, and the fasces of that splendid Republic would be bound together with the running noose that hung from the gibbet of Brown.

This is a bond that kills.

When we reflect on what Brown, the liberator, the champion of Christ, has striven to effect, and when we remember that he is about to die, slaughtered by the American Republic, the crime assumes the proportions of the Nation which commits it; and when we say to ourselves that this Nation is a glory of the human race; that—like France, like England, like Germany—she is one of the organs of civilization; that she sometimes even out-marches Europe by the sublime audacity of her progress; that she is the queen of an entire world; and that she bears on her brow an immense light of freedom; we affirm that John Brown will not die; for we recoil, horror-struck, from the idea of so great a crime committed by so great a People,

In a political light, the murder of Brown would be an irreparable fault. It would penetrate the Union with a secret fissure, which—would in the end tear it asunder. It is possible that the execution of Brown might consolidate Slavery in Virginia, but it is certain that it would convulse the entire American Democracy. You preserve your shame, but you sacrifice your glory.

In a moral light, it seems to me, that a portion of the light of humanity would be eclipsed; that even the idea of justice and injustice would be obscured on the day which should witness the assassination of Emancipation by Liberty.

As for myself, though I am but an atom, yet being, as I am, in common with all other men, inspired with the conscience of humanity, I kneel in tears before the great starry banner of the New World, and with clasped hands, and with profound and filial respect, I implore the illustrious American Republic, sister of the French Republic, to look to the safety of the universal moral law, to save Brown; to throw down the threatening scaffold of the 16th December, and not to suffer that, beneath its eyes, and, I add, with a shudder, almost by its fault, the first fratricide be outdone.

For yes, let America know it, and ponder it well—there is something more terrible than Cain slaying Abel—it is Washington slaying Spartacus.

VICTOR HUGO.

TO THE EDITOR OF THE LONDON NEWS.

SOURCE: James Redpath, Editor, Echoes of Harper’s Ferry, pp. 99-102

Speech of Theodore Tilton, December 2, 1859—12 p.m.*

I HAVE listened to the striking of your city bell! Who knows but it marked the very hour and moment when the gate of Heaven was opened, and the spirit of a new martyr passed in! To-day the nation puts to death its noblest citizen! (Cheers and hisses.) What was his crime? Guilty of what? Guilty of loving his fellow-men too well! (Applause and hisses.) Guilty of a heart of too great human kindness! Guilty of too well "remembering them that are in bonds as bound with them!" Has the brave old man still a few moments more of life? Then, though he cannot hear our words, let us say, "God bless him, and farewell!" (Applause and hisses.) But if the last sad moment is already passed, what then remains? I know not what remains for you, but as for me, I feel like throwing roses upon that scaffold and that coffin! (Mingled applause and hisses, which continued for some moments, during which the speaker advanced to the edge of the platform, and folded his arms.) Honor! thrice honor to the good Christian who to-day dies in the faith! It is the hour not of his defeat, but of his triumph! Our hearts are large for him to-day!

But what can I say? This is a time for silence rather than for words. We are standing by the old man's open grave, waiting for his body to be buried. When friends gather together to speak of a good man who has departed, every one has some word to utter which is peculiar to himself; some word which best expresses what is each man's most grateful and endearing memory of him who has gone. My own tribute to John Brown, which I offer on this day of his death, is gratitude for the influence which his heroism, his fortitude, and his faith have exerted upon my religious life. I have been made a better Christian by that man's life and death. His own great faith has strengthened mine. His own great courage has quickened mine. His Christian example of unwavering heroism and patience—in prison, under his wounds, in prospect of the gallows—all this has inspired me to a higher religious life. It has kindled within my heart a greater love to God and to my fellow-men. This is a tribute to his memory which I cannot to-day withhold.

I do not judge him merely by his last great act. John Brown was a Christian long before the great eye of the world was set on him; for, from his sixteenth year to his fifty-ninth, he has been a true and honored member of the Church of Christ. The world has not watched all that long career, but it has seen enough in a few days in his prison to make it wonder and admire.

You remember how he received the Governor of Virginia. He stood in his presence as Paul stood before Agrippa, not wishing to exchange places, but only holding out his hand and saying, " I would that thou wert altogether as I am, save these bonds!" (Applause.) You remember how he received his sentence. When the Earl of Argyle who, with his own hands put upon the head of Charles II, the crown of England, was afterwards condemned to death by the same king, the stern old Presbyterian, on hearing his fate, arose in court, and said, "The king honors me with a speedy gratitude; for while I helped him only to a crown which must shortly perish, he hastens me to a crown that is incorruptible, and that fadeth not away." So that other stern old Presbyterian, who dies this day in Virginia, arose in court and uttered a speech of equal heroism and moral grandeur — a speech that will go down to the end of time with all the grand words of all the world's heroes. (Applause and hisses.)

I cannot look upon his steadfastness without first marvelling, and then thanking God. John Brown was a Puritan — the sixth in descent from the band of Pilgrims who stepped on Plymouth Rock. I think of him and go back to old Bishop Hooper of English history — the first Puritan, the father of the Pilgrim Fathers who, when he was condemned to death for conscience' sake, wrote in his cell at Newgate, "I have spoken the truth with my lips; I have written it with my pen; I am ready to confirm it, by God's grace, with my blood!" John Brown's letters, written in his cell at Charlestown, bear in every line the same heroic testimony to God's truth! (Applause, mingled with loud hisses.) It is this high and grand faith in God that has sustained him in the long hours of his imprisonment, from its beginning until to-day that now ends it.

I have no fear how he mounted that scaffold. I have heard no news, but I believe in my soul that when the telegraph shall flash the story, it will tell of no faltering, no tremulous step, no recantation — nothing but faith, constancy, cheerfulness, heroism! When the great Marquis of Montrose, who suffered in Scotland for the cause of Church and King, was led to execution, it was a day of dark skies and threatening storms, but as he approached the scaffold the sun for a moment broke through the clouds and shone full upon his head as if the Divine glory had come to crown the saint before the martyr! And he mounted the ladder, as if it had been the ladder which Jacob saw, and walked straightway up into Heaven. So to-day, amid the greater clouds and shadows that have fallen upon our sad hearts, I believe that a light brighter than the sun has shone upon the old man who has this day gone to the gallows, and that, as he looked up for the last time toward the heavens over his head, —

"God's glory smote him on the face!"

(Cheers and hisses.)

He died no dishonorable death. Did you notice, in his late letter, which Dr. Furness read, the little line to his wife, "Think not that any ignomy has fallen upon you or upon your children, because I have come to the scaffold!" Ah! the scaffold is sometimes a throne greater than a king's. They who suffer upon it rule the world more than emperors!

You heard Mr. Hale's lecture last night. He said, "The highest province of history is to vindicate a good man from obloquy and reproach." To that impartial history which vindicates the martyrs and turns their martyrdom into glory, we commend to-day the name and memory of the martyr, John Brown! (Applause and hisses.) The deed of this day will not die! It will live in history as long as there shall be a history for heroes! Said Latimer to Ridley, when the blaze of martyrdom was wrapping them both around like a garment, "Be of good comfort, Master Ridley; we have this day lighted a candle in England which, by God's grace, no man shall ever put out." To-day God looks down from heaven on a martyrdom whose light shall shine over the world brighter than any blazing fire that ever gilded fagot or stake! This scaffold in Virginia shall stand as long as the world shall stand! No man can ever strike it down, or put it away! It will abide forever, as the monument of a Christian man who lived a hero and died a martyr, and whose name, to-day bequeathed to history, shall go down through the world gathering increasing honor through all coming time! (Great clapping and hissing.) I recall at this hour of noon those beautiful words of the New Testament, in the story of Saul, the persecutor of the prophets, struck down on his way to Damascus — "At midday, O king, I saw in the way a light from Heaven above the brightness of the fun!" He fell to the ground, blinded and terrified! He rose to his feet, converted and transformed! I pray God that at this hour of midday, at this solemn and awful moment of death, this nation may be struck down upon its knees, by the sudden glory of God bursting out of Heaven — and that it may be humbled in the dust until it shall rise repentant, and the scales shall fall from its eyes, and the whole nation shall stand at last in the light and liberty of the sons of God! (Applause and hisses, during which Mr. Tilton took his seat.)

_______________

* Delivered at noon of the 2d of December, at a public meeting of the friends of John Brown's cause in Philadelphia. As the speaker rose to address the audience the clock struck twelve.

SOURCE: James Redpath, Editor, Echoes of Harper’s Ferry, pp. 93-7

Diary of George Templeton Strong: February 10, 1860

Opera tonight with Ellie and Mrs. Georgey Peters and her papa; Der Freischutz in an Italian version. The Germanism of that opera is so intense that any translation of its text is an injustice to Weber’s memory, but its noble music can afford to be heard under disadvantages. Max was Stigelli, and very good. Agatha (Colson) was respectable. She knew how her music ought to be sung and tried hard, but had not the vigor it demands. Caspar (Junca) was pretty bad.

Query: if there ever existed a Caspar who could sing “Hier in diesem Jammerthal” as it ought to be sung, or an Agatha who could do justice to the glorious allegro that follows her “leise, leise, fromme Weise”? I enjoyed the evening, also Wednesday evening, when we had Charley Strong and wife in “our box’’ and heard The Barber, delightfully rendered. Little Patti made a most brilliant Rosina and sang a couple of English songs in the “Music Lesson’’ scene, one of them (“Coming through the Rye’’) simply and with much archness and expression. This little debutante is like to have a great career and to create a furor in Paris and St. Petersburg within five years. . . .

Last night I attended W. Curtis Noyes’s first lecture before the Law School of Columbia College.⁵ It was carefully prepared, and (to my great relief) honored by an amply sufficient audience. The lecture room was densely filled, and Oscanyan told me sixty or seventy were turned away. We may have to resort to the Historical Society lecture room (in Second Avenue).

There is much less talking of politics now that a Speaker is elected.

I think a cohesive feeling of nationality and Unionism gains strength silently both North and South, and that the Republican party has lost and is daily losing many of the moderate men who were forced into it four years ago by the Kansas outrages and the assault on Sumner. If the South would spare us its brag and its bad rhetoric, it would paralyze any Northern free-soil party in three weeks. But while Toombs speechifies and Governor Wise writes letters, it’s hard for any Northern man to keep himself from Abolitionism and refrain from buying a photograph of John Brown.

Southern chivalry is a most curious and instructive instance of the perversion of a word from its original meaning; lucus a non lucendo seems a plausible derivation when one hears that word applied to usages and habits of thought and action so precisely contrary to all it expressed some five hundred years ago. Chivalry in Virginia and Georgia means violence to one man by a mob of fifty calling itself a Vigilance Committee, ordering a Yankee school mistress out of the state because she is heterodox about slavery, shooting a wounded prisoner, assailing a non-combatant like Sumner with a big bludgeon and beating him nearly to death. Froissart would have recognized the Flemish boor or the mechanic of Ghent in such doings. Sir Galahad and Sir Lancelot in the Morte d’Arthur would have called them base, felon, dishonorable, shameful, and foul.

Burke announced sixty years ago that "the age of chivalry” was gone, and "that of calculators and economists had succeeded it.” Their period has likewise passed away now, south of the Potomac, and has been followed by a truculent mob despotism that sustains itself by a system of the meanest eavesdropping and espionage and of utter disregard of the rights of those who have not the physical power to defend themselves against overwhelming odds, that shoots or hangs its enemy or rides him on a rail when it is one hundred men against one and lets him alone when evenly matched, and is utterly without mercy for the weak or generosity for the vanquished. This course of practice must be expected of any mere mob when rampant and frightened, but the absurdity is that they call it “chivalry.” There was something truly chivalric in old John Brown’s march with his handful of followers into the enemy’s country to redeem and save those he held to be unjustly enslaved at peril of his own life. For that enterprise he was hanged, justly and lawfully, but there was in it an element of chivalry, genuine though mistaken, and criminal because mistaken, that is nat to be found in the performances of these valiant vigilance committeemen.

_______________

⁵ William Curtis Noyes (1805—1864), one of the foremost New York lawyers, and owner of a magnificent law library, had distinguished himself in numerous cases; notably in the prosecution of the Wall Street forger Huntington, and in protecting the New Haven Railroad stockholders from the consequences of Schuyler’s embezzlement.

SOURCE: Allan Nevins and Milton Halset Thomas, Editors, Diary of George Templeton Strong, Vol. 3, p. 7-9

Diary of George Templeton Strong: February 29, 1860

Went alone to Philharmonic rehearsal at Academy of Music. Watched Hazeltine and pretty Helen Lane billing and cooing just in front of me to the very appropriate accompaniment of Beethoven’s lovely D Symphony. A sentimental gent would say that the handsome young couple and the glowing joyous music of that brightest of all Beethoven’s greater works were each a sort of commentary on the other. Then I went to 24 Union Square and saw Mr. Buggies, who left Lockport Monday, spent a day at Albany, and reached New York this morning. I paid him another visit this evening. He has convalesced rapidly and looks better than I expected to see him. I feared this perilous illness might have left him with energies impaired and faculties blunted, but he is quite himself, full of life and vigorous thought. He is not without his hobby, namely: there is, or seems to be, a political reaction against sectionalism, John Brownism, Higher Lawism, and the like. This is, therefore, a good opportunity to assert the claims of the church as a conservative law-loving institution against Calvinism and the ultra Protestant notions it has produced; to tell Union men throughout the country that they belong in the church; to define the limits of authority and private judgment in political ethics. A clear statement of all this might effect a great deal just at this time and would come with a certain authority from the committee appointed by the last general convention of which Mr. Ruggles is chairman.

Monday, Jem and George Anthon dined here, and we heard Martha, which is a very pretty opera. Last night I attended Noyes’s second lecture before the Law School; crowded, like the first. That people should go away from a law lecture in New York for want of seats is without precedent. This school is the only one of our seeds of post-graduate instruction that survives and grows, our only university nucleus. If Betts and Ogden were less hopelessly inert, it might be developed into usefulness on a large scale.

SOURCE: Allan Nevins and Milton Halset Thomas, Editors, Diary of George Templeton Strong, Vol. 3, p. 11-12

Theodore Parker, December 24, 1859

ROME, December 24, 1839.

What a stormy time you are having in America! Your cradle was rocked in the Revolution, and now in your old age you see the storm of another Revolution beginning: none knows when and where it shall end. Yesterday, the telegraph brought us the expected intelligence that the Slaveholders had hung Captain John Brown! Of course I knew from the moment of his capture what his fate would be; the logic of Slavery is stronger than the intellect or personal will of any man, and it bears all Southern politicians along with it. No martyr whose tragic story is writ in the Christian books ever bore himself more heroically than Captain Brown; for he was not only a martyr, any bully can be that, but also a SAINT—which no bully can ever be. None ever fell in a more righteous cause:— it has a great future, too, which he has helped bring nearer and make more certain. I confess I am surprised to find love for the man, admiration for his conduct, and sympathy with his object, so wide-spread in the North, especially in New England, and more particularly in dear, good, old Boston! Think of the Old South on the same platform with Emerson and Phillips! Think of sermons like Wheelock's, Newhall's, Freeman Clarke's, and Cheever's Thanksgiving sermon at New York-an Orthodox minister of such bulk putting John Brown before Moses! The New York Herald had an extract from ———’s sermon. It was such as none but a mean soul could preach on such an occasion; but we must remember that it taxes a mean man as much to be mean and little, as it does a noble one to be grand and generous. Every minister must bear sermons after his kind; "for of a thorn men do not gather figs, nor of a bramble-bush gather they grapes." I rather think the Curtises did not fire a hundred cannon on Boston Common when they heard that John Brown was hung, as they did when the Fugitive Slave Bill passed. There has been a little change since 1850, and men not capable of repentance are yet liable to shame and if they cannot be converted, may yet be scared.

Well, things can never stand as they did three months ago. On the morning of the 19th of April, 1775, at day-break, Old England and New—Great Britain and the Thirteen Colonies were one nation. At sunrise, they were two. The fire of the grenadiers made reconciliation impossible, and there must be war and separation. It is so now. Great events tarn on small hinges, and let mankind march through. How different things happen from what we fancy! All good institutions are founded on some great truth of the mind or conscience; and, when such a truth is to be put over the world's highway, we think it must be borne forward on the shoulders of some mighty horse whom God has shod strong all round for that special purpose, and we wonder where the creature is, and when he will be road-ready; and look after his deep footprints, and listen for his step or his snorting. But it sometimes happens that the Divine Providence uses quite humble cattle to bear his most precious burdens, both fast and far. Some 3000 or 4000 years ago, a body of fugitives — slaves — poor, leprous, ill-clad, fled out of Egypt, under the guidance of a man who slew an Egyptian. He saw a man do a vile thing to one of his slaves, and lynched him on the spot then ran for it.

Those fugitive slaves had a great truth. The world, I think, had not known before "The Oneness of God;" at least, their leader had it, and for hundreds of years did this despised people keep the glorious treasure which Egypt did not know which Greece and Rome never understood. Who would have thought the ark of such salvation would have been trusted to such feeble hands!

Some 1800 or 1900 years ago, who would have looked to a Jewish carpenter of Galilee, and a Jewish tent-maker of Tarsus in Cilicia, with few adherents fishermen—obscure people—unlearned and ignorant men, who would have looked to such persons for a truth of religion which should overturn all the temples of the old world, and drive the gods of Olympus from their time-honored thrones of reverence and power? The Rome of the Popes is, no doubt, as Polytheistic as the Rome of the Cæsars-but the old gods are gone, and men worship the Fisherman and the Tent-maker.

It was the Augustinian Monk who broke the Roman Hierarchy to atoms. Tough in the brains, tough in the bones, mighty also by his love of the people and his trust in God, he did what it seemed only the great councils of the learned could accomplish-he routed the Popes, and wrested the German world from their rude and bloody gripe.

At a later day, when the new Continent which God had kept from the foundation of the world—a virgin hid away between the Atlantic and the Pacific seas— was to be joined to Humanity, in the hopes of founding such a Family of Men as the world had never seen, was there any one who would have thought that the Puritan, hated in his British home, and driven out thence with fire and sword, would be the Representative of Humanity, and claim and win that Bride, and wed her too, with nuptials now so auspicious? Yet so it turns out; and the greatest social and political achievement of the human race is wrought out by that Puritan, with his Bride— whose only dower was her broad lands. Really, it seems as if God chose the small things to confound the great. But when we look again, and study carefully the relation which these seemingly insignificant agents bear to the whole force of Humanity, then it appears they were the very agents most fit for the work they did. I think it will turn out so in the case of Captain Brown. What the masterly eloquence of Seward could not accomplish, even by his manly appeal to the Higher Law, nor the eloquence of Phillips and Sumner, addressed to the conscience and common sense of the people, seems likely to be brought to pass by John Brown—no statesman, no orator, but an upright and downright man, who took his life in his hand, and said, "Slavery shall go down even if it be put down with red swords!" I thanked God for John Brown years ago: he and I are no strangers, and still more now his sainthood is crowned with martyrdom. I am glad he came from that Mayflower company that his grandfather was a captain in the Revolutionary war:—the true aristocratic blood of America runs in such veins. All the grand institutions of America, which give such original power to the people, came from that Puritan stock, who trusted in God, and kept their powder dry—who stood up straight when they prayed, and also when they fought. Yes, all the grand original ideas, which are now on their way to found new institutions, and will make the future better than the past or present they come from the same source.

Virginia may be the mother of Presidents, (she yet keeps the ashes of two great ones, only their ashes, not their souls,) but it is New England that is mother of great ideas. God is their Father mother also of communities, rich with intelligence and democratic power.

John Brown came from a good lineage; his life proves it and his death. It is not for you or me to select the instruments wherewith the providence of mankind has the world's work done by human hands; it is only for us to do our little duty, and take the good and ill which come of it.

When the monster which hinders the progress of Humanity is to be got rid of, no matter if the battle-axe have rust on its hilt, and spots, here and there, upon its blade-mementoes of ancient work; if its edge have but the power to bite, the monster shall be cloven down, and mankind walk triumphantly on, to-morrow, to fresh work and triumphs new.

But I did not mean to write you such a letter as this it wrote itself, and I couldn’t help it. I cannot sleep nights, for thinking of these things. I am ashamed to be sick and good for nothing in times like these, but can't help it, and must be judged by what I can do, not can't and don't.

It is curious to find the slaves volunteering to go to shoot men (in buckram) who are coming "a thousand at a time, to rescue Captain Brown"! The African is as much superior to the Anglo-Saxon in cunning and arts of hypocrisy — except the ecclesiastical as he is inferior in general power of mind. Didn't a negro in Savannah tell a Northern minister, "I no want to be free! I only 'fraid to be slave of sin! dat's it, massa, I's fraid of de Debil, not of massa!" What a guffaw he gave when with his countrymen alone! and how he mimicked the gestures of the South-side, white-choked priest, who bore "his great commission in his work"!

But I end as I began — what a stormy time is before us! There are not many men of conscience like John Brown, but abundance of men of wrath; and the time for them-I know not when it is.

Farewell!

Theo. Parker

SOURCE: James Redpath, Editor, Echoes of Harper’s Ferry, p. 88-92

Diary of Lucy Larcom, December 27, 1860

To-night the telegraph reports the evacuation of Fort Moultrie by the Federal troops by order of the Executive, and the burning of the fort. There's something of the "spirit of '76" in the army, surely; South Carolina having declared herself a foe to the Union, how could those soldiers quietly give up one of the old strongholds to the enemy, even at the President's command?

But what will the end be? Is this secessionfarce to end with a tragedy? The South will suffer, by insurrection and famine; there is every prospect of it; the way of transgressors is hard, and we must expect it to be so. God grant that, whatever must be the separate or mutual sufferings of North and South, these convulsions may prove to be the dying struggles of slavery, and the birththroes of liberty.

It is just about a year since "Brown of Ossawatomie" was hung in the South, for unwise interference with slavery. He was not wholly a martyr; there were blood-stains on his hands, though no murder was in his heart. He was a brave man and a Christian, and his blood, unrighteously shed, still cries to heaven from the ground. Who knows but this is the beginning of the answer? But that judicial murder was not the only wrong for which the slaveholding South is now bringing herself before the bar of judgment, before earth and heaven. The secret things of darkness are coming to light, and the question will be decided rightly, I firmly believe. And the South is to be pitied, as all hardened and blinded wrong-doers should be! I believe the North will show herself a noble foe, if foe the South determines to make her.

SOURCE: Daniel Dulany Addison, “Lucy Larcom: Life, Letters, and Diary,” p. 81-2

Diary of George Templeton Strong: January 7, 1860

Walked uptown with George Anthon, who entertained me with the biography of his runaway cousin. Miss "Unadilla” Elmendorf, and incidents of the elopement, which is chronicled in newspaper paragraphs as a “marriage in high life.” The girl is illegitimate, and her Lochinvar a noted swindler of tailors and hotelkeepers and a parasite of opera troupes, but full of talent and impudence. He made his way into the barbarous State of Virginia to report John Brown's execution for Frank Leslie's or some other newspaper when almost—or quite—every other reporter was repulsed and excluded by the natives.

SOURCE: Allan Nevins and Milton Halset Thomas, Editors, Diary of George Templeton Strong, Vol. 3, p. 3

Theodore Parker to Francis Jackson, November 24, 1859

Rome, November 24, 1859.

MY DEAR FRIEND: I see by a recent telegraph which the steamer of November 2d brought from Boston, that the Court found Captain Brown guilty, and passed sentence upon him. It is said Friday, December 2d, is fixed as the day for hanging him. So, long before this reaches you, my friend will have passed on to the reward of his magnanimous public services, and his pure, upright, private life. I am not well enough to be the minister to any Congregation, least of all to one like that which, for so many years, helped my soul, while it listened to my words. Surely, the Twenty-Eighth Congregational Society in Boston needs a minister, not half dead, but alive all over; and yet, while reading the accounts of the affair at Harper's Ferry, and of the sayings of certain men at Boston, whom you and I know only too well, I could not help wishing I was at home again, to use what poor remnant of power is left to me in defence of the True and the Right.

America is rich in able men, in skilful writers, in ready and accomplished speakers. But few men dare treat public affairs with reference to the great principles of justice, and the American Democracy; nay, few with reference to any remote future, or even with a comprehensive survey of the present. Our public writers ask what effect will this opinion have on the Democratic party, or the Republican party? how will it affect the next Presidential election? what will the great State of Pennsylvania, or Ohio, or New York say to it? This is very unfortunate for us all, especially when the people have to deal practically and that speedily with a question concerning the very existence of Democratic institutions in America; for it is not to be denied that we must give up Democracy if we keep Slavery or give up Slavery if we keep Democracy.

I greatly deplore this state of things. Our able men fail to perform their natural function to give valuable instruction and advice to the people; and, at the same time, they debase and degrade themselves. The hurrahs and the offices they get are poor compensation for falseness to their own consciences.

In my best estate, I do not pretend to much political wisdom, and still less now while sick; but I wish yet to set down a few thoughts for your private eye, and, it may be, for the ear of the Fraternity. They are, at least, the result of long meditation on the subject; besides, they are not at all new nor peculiar to me, but are a part of the Public Knowledge of all enlightened men.

1. A man, held against his will as a slave, has a natural right to kill every one who seeks to prevent his enjoyment of liberty. This has long been recognized as a self-evident proposition, coming so directly from the Primitive Instincts of Human Nature, that it neither required proofs nor admitted them.

2. It may be a natural duty of the slave to develop this natural right in a practical manner, and actually kill all those who seek to prevent his enjoyment of liberty. For, if he continue patiently in bondage: First, he entails the foulest of curses on his children; and, second, he encourages other men to commit the crime against nature which he allows his own master to commit. It is my duty to preserve my own body from starvation. If I fail thereof through sloth, I not only die, but incur the contempt and loathing of my acquaintances while I live. It is not less my duty to do all that is in my power to preserve my body and soul from Slavery; and if I submit to that through cowardice, I not only become a bondman, and suffer what thraldom inflicts, but I incur also the contempt and loathing of my acquaintance. Why do freemen scorn and despise a slave? Because they think his condition is a sign of his cowardice, and believe that he ought to prefer death to bondage. The Southerners hold the Africans in great contempt, though mothers of their children. Why? Simply because the Africans are slaves; that is, because the Africans fail to perform the natural duty of securing freedom by killing their oppressors.

3. The freeman has a natural right to help the slaves recover their liberty, and in that enterprise to do for them all which they have a right to do for themselves. This statement, I think, requires no argument or illustration.

4. It may be a natural duty for the freeman to help the slaves to the enjoyment of their liberty, and, as means to that end to aid them in killing all such as oppose their natural freedom. If you were attacked by a wolf, I should not only have a right to aid you in getting rid of that enemy, but it would be my duty to help you in proportion to my power. If it were a murderer, and not a wolf, who attacked you, the duty would be still the same. Suppose it is not a murderer who would kill you, but a kidnapper who would enslave, does that make it less my duty to help you out of the hands of your enemy? Suppose it is not a kidnapper who would make you a bondman, but a slaveholder who would keep you one, does that remove my obligation to help you?

5. The performance of this duty is to be controlled by the freeman's power and opportunity to help the slaves. (The Impossible is never the Obligatory.) I cannot help the slaves in Dahomey or Bornou, and am not bound to try. I can help those who escape to my own neighborhood, and I ought to do so. My duty is commensurate with my power; and, as my power increases, my duty enlarges along with it. If I could help the bondmen in Virginia to their freedom as easily and effectually as I can aid the runaway at my own door, then I ought to do so.

These five maxims have a direct application to America at this day, and the people of the Free States have a certain dim perception thereof, which, fortunately, is becoming clearer every year.

Thus, the people of Massachusetts feel that they ought to protect the fugitive slaves who come into our State. Hence come, first the irregular attempts to secure their liberty, and the declarations of noble men, like Timothy Gilbert, George W. Carnes, and others, that they will do so even at great personal risk; and, secondly the statute laws made by the legislature to accomplish that end.

Now, if Massachusetts had the power to do as much for the slaves in Virginia as for the runaways in her own territory, we should soon see those two sets of measures at work in that direction also.

I find it is said in the Democratic newspapers that "Captain Brown had many friends at the North, who sympathized with him in general, and in special approved of this particular scheme of his; they furnished him with some twelve or twenty thousand dollars, it would seem." I think much more than that is true of us. If he had succeeded in running off one or two thousand slaves to Canada, even at the expense of a little violence and bloodshed, the majority of men in New England would have rejoiced, not only in the End, but also in the Means. The first successful attempt of a considerable number of slaves to secure their freedom by violence will clearly show how deep is the sympathy of the people for them, and how strongly they embrace the five principles I mentioned above. A little success of that sort will serve as priming for the popular cannon; it is already loaded.

Of course, I was not astonished to hear that an attempt had been made to free the slaves in a certain part of Virginia, nor should I be astonished if another "insurrection" or "rebellion" took place in the State of ——, or a third in or a fourth in ——. Such things are to be expected; for they do not depend merely on the private will of men like Captain Brown and his associates, but on the great General Causes which move all human kind to hate Wrong and love Right. Such "insurrections" will continue as long as Slavery lasts, and will increase, both in frequency and in power, just as the people become intelligent and moral. Virginia may hang John Brown and all that family, but she cannot hang the Human Race; and, until that is done, noble men will rejoice in the motto of that once magnanimous State "Sic semper Tyrannis!" "Let such be the end of every oppressor."

It is a good Anti-Slavery picture on the Virginia shield: a man standing on a tyrant and chopping his head off with a sword; only I would paint the sword-holder black and the tyrant while, to show the immediate application of the principle. The American people will have to march to rather severe music, I think, and it is better for them to face it in season. A few years ago it did not seem difficult first to check Slavery, and then to end it without any bloodshed. I think this cannot be done now, nor ever in the future. All the great charters of Humanity have been writ in blood. I once hoped that of American Democracy would be engrossed in less costly ink; but it is plain, now, that our pilgrimage must lead through a Red Sea, wherein many a Pharaoh will go under and perish. Alas! that we are not wise enough to be just, or just enough to be wise, and so gain much at small cost!

Look, now, at a few notorious facts:

I. There are four million slaves in the United States violently withheld from their natural right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Now, they are our fellow countrymen yours and mine—just as much as any four million white men. Of course, you and I owe them the duty which one man owes another of his own nation the duty of instruction, advice, and protection of natural rights. If they are starving, we ought to help feed them. The color of their skins, their degraded social condition, their ignorance, abates nothing from their natural claim on us, or from our natural duty toward them.

There are men in all the Northern States who feel the obligation which citizenship imposes on them the duty to help those slaves. Hence arose the Anti-Slavery Society, which seeks simply to excite the white people to perform their natural duty to their dark fellow-countrymen. Hence comes CAPTAIN BROWN'S EXPEDITION an attempt to help his countrymen enjoy their natural right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

He sought by violence what the Anti-Slavery Society works for with other weapons. The two agree in the end, and differ only in the means. Men like Captain Brown will be continually rising up among the white people of the Free States, attempting to do their natural duty to their black countrymen that is, help them to freedom. Some of these efforts will be successful. Thus, last winter, Captain Brown himself escorted eleven of his countrymen from bondage in Missouri to freedom in Canada. He did not snap a gun, I think, although then, as more recently, he had his fighting tools at hand, and would have used them, if necessary. Even now, the Underground Railroad is in constant and beneficent operation. By-and-by it will be an Overground Railroad from Mason and Dixon's line clear to Canada: the only tunnelling will be in the Slave States. Northern men applaud the brave conductors of that Locomotive of Liberty.

When Thomas Garrett was introduced to a meeting of political Free-Soilers in Boston, as "the man who had helped eighteen hundred slaves to their natural liberty," even that meeting gave the righteous Quaker three times three. All honest Northern hearts beat with admiration of such men; nay, with love for them. Young lads say, "I wish that heaven would make me such a man." The wish will now and then be father to the fact. You and I have had opportunity enough, in twenty years, to see that this philanthropic patriotism is on the increase at the North, and the special direction it takes is toward the liberation of their countrymen in bondage.

Not many years ago, Boston sent money to help the Greeks in their struggle for political freedom, (they never quite lost their personal liberty,) but with the money, she sent what was more valuable and far more precious, one of her most valiant and heroic sons, who staid in Greece to fight the great battle of Humanity. Did your friend, Dr. Samuel G. Howe, lose the esteem of New England men by that act? He won the admiration of Europe, and holds it still.

Nay, still later, the same dear old Boston Hunkers have never been more than rats and mice in her house, which she suffers for a time and then drives out twelve hundred of them at once on a certain day of March, 1776,—that same dear old Boston sent the same Dr. Howe to carry aid and comfort to the Poles, then in deadly struggle for their political existence. Was he disgraced because he lay seven-and-forty days in a Prussian jail in Berlin? Not even in the eyes of the Prussian King, who afterwards sent him a gold medal, whose metal was worth as many dollars as that philanthropist lay days in the despot's jail. It is said, "Charity should begin at home." The American began a good ways off, but has been working homeward ever since. The Dr. Howe of to-day would and ought to be more ready to help an American to personal liberty, than a Pole or a Greek to mere political freedom, and would find more men to furnish aid and comfort to our own countrymen, even if they were black. It would not surprise me if there were other and well-planned attempts in other States to do what Captain Brown heroically, if not successfully, tried in Virginia. Nine out of ten may fail — the tenth will succeed. The victory over General Burgoyne more than made up for all the losses in many a previous defeat; it was the beginning of the end. Slavery will not die a dry death; it may have as many lives as a cat; at last, it will die like a mad dog in a village, with only the enemies of the human kind to lament its fate, and they too cowardly to appear as mourners.

II. But it is not merely white men who will fight for the liberty of Americans; the negroes will take their defence into their own hands, especially if they can find white men to lead them. No doubt the African race is greatly inferior to the Caucasian in general intellectual power, and also in that instinct for liberty which is so strong in the Teutonic family, and just now obvious in the Anglo-Saxons of Britain and America; besides, the African race have but little desire for vengeance the lowest form of the love of justice. Here is one example out of many: In Santa Cruz, the old slave laws were the most horrible, I think, I ever read of in modern times, unless those of the Carolinas be an exception. If a slave excited others to run away, for the first offence his right leg was to be cut off; for the second offence, his other leg. This mutilation was not to be done by a surgeon's hand; the poor wretch was laid down on a log, and his legs chopped off with a plantation axe, and the stumps plunged into boiling pitch, to stanch the blood, and so save the property from entire destruction; for the live Torso of a slave might serve as a warning. No action of a court was requisite to inflict this punishment; any master could thus mutilate his bondman. Even from 1830 to 1846, it was common for owners to beat their offending victims with "tamarind rods" six feet long and an inch in thickness at the bigger end — rods thick set with ugly thorns. When that process was over, the lacerated back was washed with a decoction of the Manchineel, a poison tree, which made the wounds fester and long remain open.

In 1846, the negroes were in "rebellion," and took possession of the island; they were 25,000, the whites 3000. But the blacks did not hurt the hair of a white man's head; they got their freedom, but they took no revenge! Suppose 25,000 Americans, held in bondage by 3000 Algerines on a little island, should get their masters into their hands, how many of the 3000 would see the next sun go down?

No doubt it is through the absence of this desire of natural vengeance, that the Africans have been reduced to bondage, and kept in it.

But there is a limit even to the negro's forbearance. San Domingo is not a great way off. The revolution which changed its black inhabitants from tame slaves into wild men, took place after you had ceased to call yourself a boy.

It shows what may be in America, with no white man to help. In the Slave States there is many a possible San Domingo, which may become actual any day; and, if not in 1860, then in some other "year of our Lord." Besides, America offers more than any other country to excite the slave to love of Liberty, and the effort for it. We are always talking about "Liberty," boasting that we are "the freest people in the world," declaring that "a man would die, rather than be a slave." We continually praise our Fathers "who fought the Revolution." We build monuments to commemorate even the humblest beginning of that great national work. Once a year, we stop all ordinary work, and give up a whole day to the noisiest kind of rejoicing for the War of Independence. How we praise the "champions of liberty!" How we point out the "infamy of the British oppressors!" "They would make our Fathers slaves," say we, "and we slew the oppressor Sic semper Tyrannis!"

Do you suppose this will fail to produce its effect on the black man, one day? The South must either give up keeping "Independence Day," or else keep it in a little more thorough fashion. Nor is this all: the Southerners are continually taunting the negroes with their miserable nature. "You are only half human," say they, "not capable of freedom." "Hay is good for horses, not for hogs," said the philosophic American who now represents the great Democracy" at the court of Turin. So, liberty is good for white men, not for negroes. Have they souls? I don't know that — non mi ricordo. Contempt," says the proverb, "will cut through the shell of the tortoise." And, one day, even the sluggish African will wake up under the threefold stimulus of the Fourth of July cannon, the whip of the slaveholder, and the sting of his heartless mockery. Then, if "oppression maketh wise men mad," what do you think it will do to African slaves, who are familiar with scenes of violence, and all manner of cruelty? Still more: if the negroes have not general power of mind, or instinctive love of liberty, equal to the whites, they are much our superiors in power of cunning, and in contempt for death — rather formidable qualities in a service war. There already have been several risings of slaves in this century; they spread fear and consternation. The future will be more terrible. Now, in case of an insurrection, not only is there, as Jefferson said, “no attribute of the Almighty" which can take sides with the master, but there will be many white men who will take part with the slave. Men like the Lafayettes of the last century, and the Dr. Howes of this, may give the insurgent negro as effectual aid as that once rendered to America and Greece; and the public opinion of an enlightened world will rank them among its heroes of noblest mark.

If I remember rightly, some of your fathers were in the battle of Lexington, and that at Bunker Hill. I believe, in the course of the war which followed, every able-bodied man in your town (Newton) was in actual service. Nowadays, their descendants are proud of the fact. One day it will be thought not less heroic for a negro to fight for his personal liberty, than for a white man to fight for political independence, and against a tax of three pence a pound on tea. Wait a little, and things will come round.

III. The existence of Slavery endangers all our Democratic institutions. It does this if only tolerated as an exceptional measure—a matter of present convenience, and still more when proclaimed as an instantial principle, a rule of political conduct for all time and every place. Look at this: In 1790, there were (say) 300,000 slaves; soon they make their first doubling, and are 600,000; then their second, 1,200,000; then their third, 2,400,000. They are now in the process of doubling the fourth time, and will soon be 4,800,000; then comes the fifth double, 9,600,000; then the sixth, 19,200,000. Before the year of our Lord nineteen hundred, there will be twenty million slaves!

An Anglo-Saxon with common sense does not like this Africanization of America; he wishes the superior race to multiply rather than the inferior. Besides, it is plain to a one-eyed man that Slavery is an irreconcilable enemy of the progressive development of Democracy; that, if allowed to exist, it must be allowed to spread, to gain political, social, and ecclesiastical power; and all that it gains for the slaveholders is just so much taken from the freemen.

Look at this!—there are twenty Southern representatives who represent nothing but property in man, and yet their vote counts as much in Congress as the twenty Northerners who stand for the will of 1,800,000 freemen. Slavery gives the South the same advantage in the choice of President; consequently the slaveholding South has long controlled the federal power of the Nation.

Look at the recent acts of the Slave Power! The Fugitive Slave bill, the Kansas-Nebraska bill, the Dred Scott decision, the fillibustering against Cuba, (till found too strong,) and now against Mexico and other feeble neighbors, and, to crown all, the actual re-opening of the African slave-trade!

The South has kidnapped men in Boston, and made the Judges of Massachusetts go under her symbolic chain to enter the Courts of Justice. (!) She has burned houses and butchered innocent men in Kansas, and the perpetrators of that wickedness were rewarded by the Federal Government with high office and great pay! Those things are notorious; they have stirred up some little indignation at the North, and freemen begin to think of defending their liberty. Hence came the Free-Soil party, and hence the Republican party; it contemplates no direct benefit to the slave, only the defence of the white man in his national rights, or his conventional privileges. It will grow stronger every year, and also bolder. It must lay down principles as a platform to work its measures on; the principles will be found to require much more than what was at first proposed, and, even from this platform, Republicans will promptly see that they cannot defend the natural rights of freemen without destroying that Slavery which takes away the natural rights of a negro. So, first, the wise and just men of the party will sympathize with such as seek to liberate the slaves, either peacefully or by violence; next, they will declare their opinions in public; and, finally, the whole body of the party will come to the same sympathy and the same opinion. Then, of course, they will encourage men like Captain Brown, give him money and all manner of help, and also encourage the slaves, whenever they shall rise, to take their liberty at all hazards. When called to help put down an insurrection of the slaves, they will go readily enough, and do the work by removing the cause of insurrection: that is by destroying Slavery itself.

An Anti-Slavery party, under one name or another, will before long control the Federal Government, and will exercise its constitutional rights, and perform its constitutional

duty, and "guarantee a republican form of government to every State in the Union." That is a work of time and peaceful legislation. But the short work of violence will be often tried, and each attempt will gain something for the cause of humanity, even by its dreadful process of blood.

IV. But there is yet another agency that will act against Slavery. There are many mischievous persons who are ready for any wicked work of violence. They abound in the City of New York, (a sort of sink where the villany of both hemispheres settles down, and genders that moral pestilence which steams up along the columns of The New York Herald and The New York Observer, the great escape-pipes of secular and ecclesiastical wickedness;) they commit the great crimes of violence and robbery at home, plunder emigrants, and engage in the slave-trade, or venture on fillibustering expeditions. This class of persons is common in all the South. One of the legitimate products of her "peculiar institution," they are familiar with violence, ready and able for murder. Public opinion sustains such men. Bully Brooks was but one of their representatives in Congress. Nowadays they are fond of Slavery, defend it, and seek to spread it. But the time must come one day it may come any time. when the lovers of mischief will do a little fillibustering at home, and rouse up the slaves to rob, burn, and kill. Prudent carpenters sweep up all the shavings in their shops at night, and remove this food of conflagration to a safe place, lest the spark of a candle, the end of a cigar, or a friction-match should swiftly end their wealth slowly gathered together. The South takes pains to strew her carpenter's shop with shavings, and fill it full thereof. She encourages men to walk abroad with naked candles in their hands and lighted cigars in their months; then they scatter friction-matches on the floor, and dance a fillibustering jig thereon. She cries," Well done! Hurrah for Walker!" "Hurrah for Brooks!" "Hurrah for the bark Wanderer and its cargo of slaves! Up with the bowie-knife!

“Down with justice and humanity!" The South must reap as she sows; where she scatters the wind the whirlwind will come up. It will be a pretty crop for her to reap. Within a few years the South has burned alive eight or ten negroes. Other black men looked on, and learned how to fasten the chain, how to pile the green wood, how to set this Hell-fire of Slavery agoing. The apprentice may be slow to learn, but he has had teaching enough by this time to know the art and mystery of torture; and, depend upon it, the negro will one day apply it to his old tormentors. The Fire of Vengeance may be waked up even in an African's heart, especially when it is fanned by the wickedness of a white man then it runs from man to man, from town to town. What shall put it out? The white man's blood!

Now, Slavery is a wickedness so vast and so old, so rich and so respectable, supported by the State, the Press, the Market, and the Church, that all those agencies are needed to oppose it with those and many more which I cannot speak of now. You and I prefer the peaceful method; but I, at least, shall welcome the violent if no other accomplish the end. So will the great mass of thoughtful and good men at the North: else why do we honor the Heroes of the Revolution, and build them monuments all over our blessed New England? I think you gave money for that of Bunker Hill: I once thought it a folly; now I recognize it as a great sermon in stone, which is worth not only all the money it cost to build it, but all the blood it took to lay its corner-stones. Trust me, its lesson will not be in vain — at the North, I mean; for the Logic of Slavery will keep the South on its lower course, and drive it on more swiftly than before. "Captain Brown's expedition was a failure," I hear it said. I am not quite sure of that. True, it kills fifteen men by sword and shot, and four or five men by the gallows. But it shows the weakness of the greatest Slave State in America, the worthlessness of her soldiery, and the utter fear which Slavery genders in the bosoms of the masters. Think of the condition of the City of Washington, while Brown was at work!

Brown will die, I think, like a martyr, and also like a saint. His noble demeanor, his unflinching bravery, his gentleness, his calm, religious trust in God, and his words of truth and soberness, cannot fail to make a profound impression on the hearts of Northern men; yes, and on Southern men. For "every human heart is human," &c. I do not think the money wasted, nor the lives thrown away. Many acorns must be sown to have one come up; even then the plant grows slow; but it is an Oak at last. None of the Christian martyrs died in vain; and from Stephen, who was stoned at Jerusalem, to Mary Dyer, whom our fathers hanged on a bough of "the great tree" on Boston Common, I think there have been few spirits more pure and devoted than John Brown's, and none that gave up their breath in a nobler cause. Let the American State hang his body, and the American Church damn his soul; still, the blessing of such as are ready to perish will fall on him, and the universal justice of the Infinitely Perfect God will take him welcome home. The road to heaven is as short from the gallows as from a throne; perhaps, also, as easy.

I suppose you would like to know something about myself. Rome has treated me to bad weather, which tells its story in my health, and certainly does not mend me. But I look for brighter days and happier nights. The sad tidings from America- my friends in peril, in exile, in jail, killed, or to be hung-have filled me with grief, and so I fall back a little, but hope to get forward again. God bless you and yours, and comfort you!

Ever affectionately yours,

THEODORE PARKER.

TO FRANCIS JACKSON, ESQ., Boston.

SOURCE: James Redpath, Editor, Echoes of Harper’s Ferry, p. 73-87