Speech by Ralph Waldo Emerson Delivered at the Brown Relief Meeting, held at Salem, Mass., January 6, 1860

MR. CHAIRMAN: I have been struck with one fact, that the best orators who have added their praise to his fame and I need not go out of this house to find the purest eloquence in the country — have one rival who comes off a little better, and that is John Brown. Every thing that is said of him leaves people a little dissatisfied; but as soon as they read his own speeches and letters they are heartily contented such is the singleness of purpose which justifies him to the head and the heart of all. Taught by this experience, I mean, in the few remarks I have to make, to cling to his history, or let him speak for himself.

John Brown, the founder of liberty in Kansas, was born in Torrington, Litchfield County, Conn., in 1800. When he was five years old his father emigrated to Ohio, and the boy was there set to keep sheep, and to look after cattle, and dress skins; he went bareheaded and barefooted, and clothed in buckskin. He said that he loved rough play, could never have rough play enough; could not see a seedy hat without wishing to pull it off. But for this it needed that the playmates should be equal; not one in fine clothes and the other in buckskin; not one his own master, hale and hearty, and the other watched and whipped. But it chanced that in Pennsylvania, where he was sent by his father to collect cattle, he fell in with a boy whom he heartily liked, and whom he looked upon as his superior. This boy was a slave; he saw him beaten with an iron shovel, and otherwise maltreated; he saw that this boy had nothing better to look forward to in life, whilst he himself was petted and made much of; for he was much considered in the family where he then stayed, from the circumstance that this boy of twelve years had conducted alone a drove of cattle a hundred miles. But the colored boy had no friend, and no future. This worked such indignation in him that he swore an oath of resistance to Slavery as long as he lived. And thus his enterprise to go into Virginia and run off five hundred or a thousand slaves, was not a piece of spite or revenge, a plot of two years or of twenty years, but the keeping of an oath made to heaven and earth forty-seven years before. Forty-seven years at least, though I incline to accept his own account of the matter, at Charlestown, which makes the date a little older, when he said, "This was all settled millions of years before the world was made."

He grew up a religious and manly person in severe poverty; a fair specimen of the best stock of New England; having that force of thought and that sense of right which are the warp and woof of greatness. Our farmers were Orthodox Calvinists, mighty in the Scriptures; had learned that life was a preparation, a "probation" to use their word, for a higher world, and was to be spent in loving and serving mankind.

Thus was formed a romantic character absolutely without any vulgar trait; living to ideal ends, without any mixture of self-indulgence or compromise, such as lowers the value of benevolent and thoughtful men we know; abstemious, refusing luxuries, not sourly and reproachfully, but simply as unfit for his habit; quiet and gentle as a child in the house. And, as happens usually to men of romantic character, his fortunes were romantic. Walter Scott would have delighted to draw his picture and trace his adventurous career. A shepherd and herdsman, he learned the manners of animals, and knew the secret signals by which animals communicate. He made his hard bed on the mountains with them; he learned to drive his flock through thickets all but impassable; he had all the skill of a shepherd by choice of breed, and by wise husbandry to obtain the best wool, and that for a course of years. And the anecdotes preserved show a far-seeing skill and conduct which, in spite of adverse accidents, should secure, one year with another, an honest reward, first to the farmer, and afterwards to the dealer. If he kept sheep, it was with a royal mind; and if he traded in wool, he was a merchant prince, not in the amount of wealth, but in the protection of the interests confided to him.

I am not a little surprised at the easy effrontery with which political gentlemen, in and out of Congress, take it upon them to say that there are not a thousand men in the North who sympathize with John Brown. It would be far safer and nearer the truth to say that all people, in proportion to their sensibility and self-respect, sympathize with him. For it is impossible to see courage, and disinterestedness, and the love that casts out fear, without sympathy.

All women are drawn to him by their predominance of sentiment. All gentlemen, of course, are on his side. I do not mean by "gentlemen," people of scented hair and perfumed handkerchiefs, but men of gentle blood and generosity, "fulfilled with all nobleness," who, like the Cid, give the outcast leper a share of their bed; like the dying Sidney, pass the cup of cold water to the wounded soldier who needs it more. For what is the oath of gentle blood and knighthood? What but to protect the weak and lowly against the strong oppressor?

Nothing is more absurd than to complain of this sympathy, or to complain of a party of men united in opposition to Slavery—As well complain of gravity, or the ebb of the tide. Who makes the Abolitionist? The Slaveholder. The sentiment of mercy is the natural recoil which the laws of the universe provide to protect mankind from destruction by savage passions. And our blind statesmen go up and down, with committees of vigilance and safety, hunting for the origin of this new heresy. They will need a very vigilant committee indeed to find its birthplace, and a very strong force to root it out. For the arch-Abolitionist, older than Brown, and older than the Shenandoah Mountains is Love, whose other name is Justice, which was before Alfred, before Lycurgus, before Slavery, and will be after it.

SOURCE: James Redpath, Editor, Echoes of Harper’s Ferry, pp. 119-22

Reverend William Alvin Bartlett to Daniel S. Dickinson, September 22, 1856

STRATFORD-ON-AVON, September 22, 1856.

DEAR SIR—I have just visited the birth-place and the tomb of Shakespeare, and knowing somewhat of your appreciation of his genius, I avail myself of a little leisure to enclose you a leaf from the old churchyard, and a plate or two, I procured in the room of his birth. The engravings may give you too favorable an idea of the appearance of the house, it being very much dilapidated. The mud walls within are literally carved with autographs-among which I noticed Sir Walter Scott's upon a pane of glass. Lucien Bonaparte left the following record of his visit in 1810:

"The eye of genius glistens to admire

How memory hails the sound of Shakespeare's lyre;

One tear I'll shed, to form a crystal shrine,

For all that's grand, immortal, and divine."

The effigy of Shakespeare in the chancel of the church, which is said to have been made from a cast of his features taken after death, is very different from the usual pictures of him. The tendency has been by artists to represent the physical as perfect as the intellectual man, whereas his face was not regularly formed, according to this bust. The right cheek is much fuller than the left, with a very prominent upper lip, and a double chin, and, on the whole, fleshy and more English in its appearance; as if he were not a stranger to the virtues of good ale. The old church with its rural surroundings, the Avon laving its southern extremity, and its associations, formed a most delightful retreat.

I have thus far had a very prosperous journey, and hope to reach London in a few days. Be pleased to remember me kindly to Mrs. Dickinson, Mrs. Courtney, and Miss Mary.

Yours, very respectfully,

W. A. BARTLETT.

SOURCE: John R. Dickinson, Editor, Speeches, Correspondence, Etc., of the Late Daniel S. Dickinson of New York, Vol. 2, p. 495-6

Diary of Gideon Welles: Monday, May 29, 1865

[W]e took a morning ride, Mrs. Welles being able to go with us, and drove about the place. Returning to the wharf, we took a tug, visited the Pawnee, and then went to Sumter, Moultrie, Fort Johnston, etc. The day was beautiful and all enjoyed it.

There was both sadness and gratification in witnessing the devastation of the city and the deplorable condition of this seat of the Rebellion. No place has suffered more or deserved to have suffered more. Here was the seat of Southern aristocracy. The better blood — the superior class, as they considered themselves — here held sway and dictated the policy, not only of Charleston but of South Carolina, and ultimately of the whole South. The power of association and of exclusiveness has here been exemplified and the consequences that follow from the beginning of evil. Not that the aristocracy had more vigorous intellects, greater ability, for they had not, yet their wealth, their ancestry, the usage of the community gave them control.

Mr. Calhoun, the leading genius and master mind of the State, was not one of the élite, the first families, but was used, nursed, and favored by them, and they by him. He acknowledged their supremacy and deferred to them; they recognized his talents and gave him position. He pandered to their pride; they fostered his ambition.

Rhett, one of the proudest of the nobility, had the ambition of Calhoun without his ability, yet he was not destitute of a certain degree of smartness, which stimulated his aspirations. More than any one else, perhaps, has he contributed to precipitating this Rebellion and brought these terrible calamities on his State and country. The gentlemanly, elegant, but brilliantly feeble intellects of his class had the vanity to believe they could rule, or establish a Southern empire. Their young men had read Scott's novels, and considered themselves to be knights and barons bold, sons of chivalry and romance, born to fight and to rule. Cotton they knew to be king, and slavery created cotton. They used these to combine other weak minds at the South, and had weak and willing tools to pander to them in certain partisans at the North.

The results of their theory and the fruits of their labors are to be seen in this ruined city and this distressed people. Luxury, refinement, happiness have fled from Charleston; poverty is enthroned there. Having sown error, she has reaped sorrow. She has been, and is, punished. I rejoice that it is so.

On Monday evening we left for Savannah, but, a storm coming on, the Santiago put into Port Royal, having lost sight of our consort. It had been our intention to stop at this place on our return, but, being here, we concluded to finish our work, and accordingly went up to Beaufort. Returning, we visited Hilton Head and Fort Welles on invitation from General Gillmore.

SOURCE: Gideon Welles, Diary of Gideon Welles, Secretary of the Navy Under Lincoln and Johnson, Vol. 2: April 1, 1864 — December 31, 1866, p. 312-3

Diary of Gideon Welles: Friday, April 7, 1865

We have word that Sheridan has had a battle with a part of Lee's army, has captured six Rebel generals and several thousand prisoners. His dispatch intimates the almost certain capture of Lee.

In the closing up of this Rebellion, General Grant has proved himself a man of military talent. Those who have doubted and hesitated must concede him some capacity as a general. Though slow and utterly destitute of genius, his final demonstrations and movements have been masterly. The persistency which he has exhibited is as much to be admired as any quality in his character. He is, however, too regardless of the lives of his men.

It is desirable that Lee should be captured. He, more than any one else, has the confidence of the Rebels, and can, if he escapes, and is weak enough to try and continue hostilities, rally for a time a brigand force in the interior. I can hardly suppose he would do this, but he has shown weakness, and his infidelity to the country which educated, and employed, and paid him shows gross ingratitude. His true course would be to desert the country he has betrayed, and never return.

Memo. This Rebellion which has convulsed the nation for four years, threatened the Union, and caused such sacrifice of blood and treasure may be traced in a great degree to the diseased imagination of certain South Carolina gentlemen, who some thirty and forty years since studied Scott's novels, and fancied themselves cavaliers, imbued with chivalry, a superior class, not born to labor but to command, brave beyond mankind generally, more intellectual, more generous, more hospitable, more liberal than others. Such of their countrymen as did not own slaves, and who labored with their own hands, who depended on their own exertions for a livelihood, who were mechanics, traders, and tillers of the soil, were, in their estimate, inferiors who would not fight, were religious and would not gamble, moral and would not countenance duelling, were serious and minded their own business, economical and thrifty, which was denounced as mean and miserly. Hence the chivalrous Carolinian affected to, and actually did finally, hold the Yankee in contempt. The women caught the infection. They were to be patriotic, Revolutionary matrons and maidens. They admired the bold, dashing, swaggering, licentious, boasting, chivalrous slave-master who told them he wanted to fight the Yankee but could not kick and insult him into a quarrel. And they disdained and despised the pious, peddling, plodding, persevering Yankee who would not drink, and swear, and fight duels.

The speeches and letters of James Hamilton and his associates from 1825 forward will be found impregnated with the romance and poetry of Scott, and they came ultimately to believe themselves a superior and better race, knights of blood and spirit.

Only a war could wipe out this arrogance and folly, which had by party and sectional instrumentalities been disseminated through a large portion of the South. Face to face in battle and in field with these slandered Yankees, they learned their own weakness and misconception of the Yankee character. Without self-assumption of superiority, the Yankee was proved to be as brave, as generous, as humane, as chivalric as the vaunting and superficial Carolinian to say the least. Their ideal, however, in Scott's pages of "Marmion," "Ivanhoe," etc., no more belonged to the Sunny South than to other sections less arrogant and presuming but more industrious and frugal.

On the other hand, the Yankees, and the North generally, underestimated the energy and enduring qualities of the Southern people who were slave-owners. It was believed they were effeminate idlers, living on the toil and labor of others, who themselves could endure no hardship such as is indispensable to soldiers in the field. It was also believed that a civil war would, inevitably, lead to servile insurrection, and that the slave-owners would have their hands full to keep the slaves in subjection after hostilities commenced. Experience has corrected these misconceptions in each section.

SOURCE: Gideon Welles, Diary of Gideon Welles, Secretary of the Navy Under Lincoln and Johnson, Vol. 2: April 1, 1864 — December 31, 1866, p. 276-8

Diary of Lieutenant-Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes: Wednesday, July 16, 1862

Camp Green Meadows. — A warm, beautiful day. The men busy building shades (bowers or arbors) over their streets and tents, cleaning out the springs, and arranging troughs for watering horses, washing, and bathing. The water is excellent and abundant.

I read “Waverley,” finishing it. The affection of Flora McIvor for her brother and its return is touching; they were orphans. And oh, this is the anniversary of the death of my dear sister Fanny — six years ago! I have thought of her today as I read Scott's fine description, but till now it did not occur to me that this was the sad day. Time has softened the pain. How she would have suffered during this agonizing war! Perhaps it was best — but what a loss!

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 304

Diary of Lieutenant-Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes: Tuesday Morning, March 18, 1862

A. M., very cold but looks as if the storm was at an end and bright weather come again. P. M., a lovely day. Rode with Avery on the Logan Road three miles to Evans' and Cook's. Drilled the regiment. Adjutant Avery drilled skirmish drill. P. M., drilled sergeants in bayonet exercise, and regiment in marching and squares. Spent the evening jollying with the doctors and reading Scott.

A queer prisoner brought in from New River by Richmond. Richmond, a resolute Union citizen was taken a prisoner at his house by three Rebels — two dragoons and a bushwhacker. One of the dragoons took Richmond up behind him and off they went. On the way they told Richmond that he would have to —— —— ——. Thereupon Richmond on the first opportunity drew his pocket-knife slyly from his pocket, caught the dragoon before him by his hair behind and cut his throat and stabbed him. Both fell from the horse together. Richmond cut the strap holding the dragoon's rifle; took it and killed a second. The third escaped, and Richmond ran to our camp.

Jesse Reese brought in as a spy by Richmond, says he is a tailor; was going to Greenbrier to collect money due him. Says he married when he was about fifty; they got married because they were both orphans and alone in the world!

_______________

Dr. J. T. Webb, in a letter, of March 12, to his sister (Mrs. Hayes), tells the story of Richmond's feat in the following graphic recital: Click Here.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 211

Fitz-Greene Halleck to Mrs. Rush, November 21, 1861

Guilford, Conn., Nov. 21, 1861.

My DEar Mrs. Rush: I am very grateful for your continued kind remembrance of me, and for the courtesy of your promise to like my next war-song, notwithstanding the rejection of my last as one of the unlucky twelve hundred, and I think it my bounden duty, while generously declining to put your good-nature to so severe a test, to tell you frankly a melancholy truth. Sir Walter Scott once said to a clerical friend of his: “I am afraid that I am fast losing my memory, for I listened attentively to your yesterday's sermon, and to-day I have forgotten every word of it.” So in my case, I owe a like compliment to the poetry of Mrs. Browning and Mr. Tennyson; I have read many of them over and over, and have been told that they are all exceedingly beautiful, and yet I have not at this moment a single line of them by heart! I am certain, therefore, that you, whose endurance of my intoning of remembered rhymes won for you of old the reputation of being the most lady-like of listeners, will agree with me in admitting that my memory is gone, and that I cannot conscientiously hereafter ask others to remember my rhymes while confessing my inability to remember theirs. Moreover, sadly and seriously, is this Southern, this sin-born war of ours, worthy of a poet's consecration? a poet, whose art, whose attribute it is to make the dead on fields of battle, alike the victors and the vanquished, look beautiful in the sunbeams of his song. On the contrary, it is but a mutiny, a monster mutiny, whose ringleaders are a dozen crime-worn politicians, determined to keep themselves in power, and will sooner or later find its Nemesis in the blood and tears of a servile insurrection.

If, however (to end my letter cheerfully), the recent entrapping of my old acquaintance, John Slidell, should bring us a war with England, a foe “worthy of our steel” and stanzas, I will make the attempt you so flatteringly request; and, as Homer won his laurels by singing the wrath of Achilles for the loss of his sweetheart, I will strive to win mine by singing the wrath of John Bull for the captivity of John Slidell.

SOURCE: James Grant Wilson, The life and letters of Fitz-Greene Halleck, 523-5