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JOHN BROWN FIFTY YEARS AFTER 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN T. MORSE, JR. 
 
 [Reprinted from The Atlantic Monthly for November, 1910] 
 
 THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY COMrANY 
 
 4 Park Street, Boston 
 
JOHN BROWN FIFTY YEARS AFTER 
 
 BY JOHN T. MORSE, JR. 
 
 John Brown's singular life has been 
 followed by a remarkable immorlalit y. 
 Two mad da\s at Harper's Ferry, then 
 the impressive spectacle of the execu- 
 tion; some strikin<^ things written and 
 said during his short imprisonment: — 
 thus much has impelled Americans to 
 an eager study of his life and character. 
 Evidently it is his personality that en- 
 thralls, not his historic importance, 
 which was trifling; for his ^'irginia raid 
 startled and passed like a flash of light- 
 ningwhich enters the earth without vis- 
 ible eff'ect. Mr. Villard truly says that 
 psychologists find in him 'a field for in- 
 quiry and speculation without end '; the 
 historian, however, dismisses him with 
 
 1 a few pages. Yet not half a dozen of 
 all our statesmen, warriors, and writers 
 who played efl^ective parts l)etween 1850 
 and 1865 have found so many bio- 
 graphers as have tried to tell Brown's 
 slory, no one of whom, to speak truth 
 w ithout courtesy, prior to Mr. \'illard, 
 has done really good work. 
 
 Dr. Rhodes, discouraged probably 
 by conlemplaling ihe shelf which held 
 
 -^hc John Hrown liloralurc, wrote that 
 'a century may perchance pass before 
 an historical estimate acceptable to all 
 lovers of liberty and justice can be 
 made of John Brown.' The dispassion- 
 ate pages in which these very words oc- 
 curred came near to disproving them; 
 and now Mr. Villard, 'fifty years after' 
 Brown's death, and very few years 
 
 ' John Brmrn : n Binrjrnphi/ Fifty Ycarx Aflrr. 
 Hy Oswald ('■ vwhisos Villard. 7.'?8 pp.. with 
 ciimplctc hihliofjraphv ami notes. Boston: 
 HouRhton Mifflin Co. 1910. , : 
 
 662 * ..." 
 
 after Dr. Rhodes's remark, has com- 
 pleted the disproof. Not that Mr. Vil- 
 lard has spoken the last word; for 
 Brown's career, affecting differently 
 the different temperaments of writers, 
 will forever remain a subject of discus- 
 sion ; but he probably has made a final 
 presentment of the case. No narrative 
 can ever be more full and accurate; no 
 exposition of arguments and points of 
 view more fair and even-minded. 
 
 The chief contribution making by 
 modern writers to the advancement of 
 historical work, exceeding even the 
 fruits brought by the delving special- 
 ist, is the temperate, conscientious, hon- 
 orable purpose to tell exact truth and 
 suggest unbiased conclusions. Even the 
 historical biographer, generally led to 
 his subject by admiration, appreci- 
 ates how often extravagant laudation 
 has insidiously betrayed [the good 
 name of many a worthy man, who might 
 ha\e l)ecn well esteemed had not the 
 praise-mongers vexed readers into con- 
 tradictory temper. Mr. Villard, shrewd 
 and honest, neither idolater nor show- 
 mnn, gives John Brown just as John 
 Brown was, in the flesh and in the spirit, 
 and then kindly leaves us to give praise 
 or blame as we will. 
 
 Brown himself praised no one; he 
 did not indeed often or greatly praise 
 even the God of whom he spoke in 
 nearly every hour of every da>"; for his 
 conception of God was of a Being too 
 fully occupied in imposing duties and 
 exacting performance, to endure that 
 time should be wasted in praise-l)ear- 
 ing. He himself, fully sympathizing 
 
JOHN BROWN FIFTY YEARS AFTER 
 
 1 
 
 663 
 
 with this habit of a God whom he had 
 made quite after his own image, prac- 
 tical, energetic, stern, and inflexible, 
 may to-day be interested in the judg- 
 ments which are now being pronounced 
 upon him among living men; but it 
 is not conceivable that he much cares 
 whether they are exalting him or not. 
 
 Mr. Villard conducts his narrative 
 with much particularity, making the 
 reader the constant companion of 
 Brown throughout. As a fgfrmer, es- 
 pecially as a sheep-raiser and wool- 
 seller, he was exceptionally skillful; 
 but the many speculations in business 
 and in lands into which his ' migratory, 
 sanguine,' restless temperament led 
 him, resulted generally in loss and liti- 
 gation, so that the procession of his 
 law-suits is startling. The story shows 
 well his incapacity for putting himself 
 in the other man's place; his points of 
 view were always fixed points, and all 
 his opinions were convictions. Thus 
 it happened that though, as Mr. Vil- 
 lard says, there is 'no allegation of dis- 
 honesty,' there was sometimes danger 
 that his honesty might be chiefly con- 
 spicuous in his intentions. A neighbor 
 and creditor described him as ' of ordin- 
 ary calibre, with a propensity to busi- 
 ness failure.' Dr. Von Hoist, writing 
 of him well from the point of view of an 
 admirer, attributes to him a 'sober, 
 wary judgment'; but Dr. Rhodes finds 
 him 'of moderate intellectual capacity' 
 and 'narrow-minded.' 
 
 These years when Brown was en- 
 gaged in ordinary occupations, and 
 when therefore he was to be judged by 
 ordinary standards, establish the cor- 
 rectness of Dr. Rhodes's estimate. Yet 
 Brown's own estimate, in the few but 
 very remarkable autobiographic pages 
 in which he sketches his earlier years, is 
 perhaps the best of all, and indicates 
 that he had singular self-knowledge, 
 and in fact knew himself better than 
 the commentators have known him. 
 
 He wrote that John ' followed up with 
 tenacity whatever he set about'; that 
 he ' rarely failed in some good degree to 
 eff"ect the things he undertook'; that 
 therefore he 'habitually expected to 
 succeed'; but 'with this feeling should 
 be coupled the consciousness that our 
 plans are right in themselves,' a con- 
 sciousness which never failed Brown so 
 long as the breath of life was in him. 
 Later he adds that he 'came forward 
 to manhood quite full of self-conceit, 
 and self-confident,' and 'too much dis- 
 posed to speak in an imperious or dic- 
 tating way.' 'Conceit' is hardly a 
 well-selected word, but faith in his own 
 opinions and plans Brown had beyond 
 all limit. 
 
 Brown says that at the age of twelve 
 he became an abolitionist. Thereafter 
 he grew rapidly more and more intense- 
 ly devoted to abolition; he made his 
 "children vow themselves to it; he was 
 active in the business of the 'under- 
 ground railroad'; he had schemes for 
 educating and colonizing negroes at 
 the north, and took up his residence in 
 the Adirondacks, where he hoped to 
 found a settlement of these people, 
 chiefly runaway slaves. \ When, in the 
 ' dark and bloody ' days in Kansas, four 
 of his sons undertook to farm there, 
 he promptly followed, not indeed to 
 settle in that troubled land, but to take 
 a hand in the murderous strife there 
 waging, — a hand which soon approved 
 itself so strenuous and bloody that no 
 other Free-State partisan could vie with 
 the reputation of Brown in the terrible 
 competition of shooting, burning, and 
 plundering. His name became like that 
 of the Black Douglas on the Scotch- 
 English marches. 
 
 The only virtue then visible in that 
 unhappy land was physical courage, 
 and even this often paraded in odious 
 companionship with shameful acts. 
 None the less Brown gave himself to 
 the dreadful work of the Lord with 
 
G64 
 
 JOHN BROWN FIFTY YEARS AFTER 
 
 that unsparing thoroughness so often 
 born of religion. From infancy almost 
 he had been an untiring student of the 
 Bible; his familiarit}^ with the Old Tes- 
 tament was wonderful ; quotations from 
 both the Old and the New were ever 
 on his tongue, and it is characteristic 
 that his especial favorite was: 'With- 
 out blood there shall be no remission 
 of sin.' Unfortunately the Old Testa- 
 ment is a dangerous book for a man of 
 his temperament; and the merciless 
 old Hebrews who wrote it, and whose 
 fierce careers furnished so many in- 
 cidents for it, were the worst possible 
 comrades for Brown with his intense 
 nature and literal intellect. In their 
 violent fellowship he was sure soon to 
 be embroiled in serious mischief. The 
 sword of the Lord and of Gideon, 
 though doubtless an exceeding good 
 weapon in those days of the bad Mid- 
 ianites, was an antiquated implement 
 in a civilized land nearly nineteen cen- 
 turies after the New Testament had 
 rendered the armory of the Old Testa- 
 ment an anachronism. Brown, how- 
 ever, knowing nothing of anachronisms, 
 but well assured that he knew all about 
 this holy sword, grasped it at once with 
 both hands. 
 
 Mr. Villard takes us through the 
 Kansas period almost day by day, with 
 minute details of Brown's incessant 
 comings and goings, his many conceal- 
 ments and aliases. Nicolay and Hay 
 speak of these doings as theatrical. Il 
 may, however, be remembered that Mr. 
 Lincoln spoke very coolly of Brown, 
 and Lincoln's biographers may have 
 taken their tendency from this. Prob- 
 aiily the phantasmagoric element was 
 due only to the mental excitement 
 which drove Brown to eternal move- 
 tnenl. Certainly he was hideously gen- 
 uine when he organized the massacre 
 at Pottawotomie. He, with four of his 
 J sons and three other persons, enticed 
 at night five unarmed pro-slaver}' men 
 
 from their homes and hacked them to 
 death with cutlasses. Brown led the 
 band, commanded the killing, but him- 
 self probably did none of it. 
 
 Even in the Kansas of 1856, and 
 among Free-State men, such a slaugh- 
 ter was received with horror; and to- 
 day there is no price which would not 
 be gladly paid by Brown's admirers if 
 thereby the foul deed could be blotted 
 forever from the memories of men. It 
 has therefore always been matter of 
 special interest to know what each suc- 
 cessive biographer would say of this: — 
 may not some one, some day, arise to 
 excuse it? Unfortunately there is more 
 in the case than even the brutal kill- 
 ing. There is the shock of seeing Brown, 
 with that stern paternal authority for 
 which he was noted, bid his sons do the 
 hideous slashing. Moreover, though 
 there was little chivalry mingled with 
 Kansas courage, the odium of coward- 
 liness clings about the deed. For fur- 
 ther humiliation. Brown always al- 
 leged that he had not raised his hand 
 against any man that night. Reports 
 of his phraseology indicate that his 
 words were carefully chosen to be true 
 in the letter and false in the spirit, and 
 certainly they long deceived his Eastern 
 friends into a belief that the blood-stain 
 was not upon him. It would ha\e been 
 better if he had himself struck down his 
 victims; better if he had then availed 
 himself of the ordinary privilege of a 
 criminal to give a simple convx'ntional 
 denial, instead of sneaking behind a 
 quibbling equivocation. 
 
 All this is a trying test for Mr. Vil- 
 lard, who certainly meets it admirably. 
 His narrative is precise and full, with 
 no color infused into it by the manner 
 of telling. Every argument, suggestion, 
 and point of view, pro and con, is stated 
 with perfect evenness. One seems to 
 be present at a great criminal cause, 
 w^hen an able and upright judge, in his 
 charge, reviews with judicial clearness 
 
JOHN BROWN FIFTY YEARS AFTER 
 
 665 
 
 all facts and all considerations. There 
 is no futile attempt at palliation, where 
 the only possible palliation must be 
 sought in Brown's mental condition. 
 'God is my judge,' Brown said, nor 
 ever evinced anxiety as to the judg- 
 ment. Later he said, ' I had no choice. 
 It has been decreed by Almighty God, 
 ordained from eternity, that I should 
 make an example of these mfen.' Fur- 
 ther than this he did not go in shift- 
 ing the responsibility upon God; but 
 one of his biographers has been less 
 self-restrained, alleging that the great 
 Ruler 'makes his will known in ad- 
 vance to certain chosen men and women 
 who perform it, consciously or uncon- 
 sciously.' Of course if Brown was the 
 attorney of God, he is justified; but as 
 his credentials cannot be brought into 
 court, his only defense fails. Mr. Vil- 
 lard, in honest man-fashion, says : — 
 
 'For John Brown no plea can be 
 made that will enable him to escape 
 coming before the bar of historical j udg- 
 ment. There his wealth of self-sacri- 
 fice and the nobility of his aims do 
 not avail to prevent a complete con- 
 demnation of his bloody crime at Pot- 
 tawotamie, or a just penalty for his 
 taking human life without warrant or 
 authority. If he deserves to live in his- 
 tory, it is not because of his cruel, grue- 
 some, reprehensible acts on the Potta- 
 wotamie, but despite them.' 
 
 To this period belong also the strange 
 proceedings at Chatham, Canada West. 
 There in two successive ' Conventions ' 
 Brown gathered some four dozen men, 
 chiefly negroes, and caused them by 
 vote to adopt 'A Provisional Consti- 
 tution and Ordinances for the People 
 of the United States,' whereby was 
 gravely established a skeleton govern- 
 ment, with organic laws, a Congress, 
 and a Judiciary, and regulations for 
 making treaties; with the proviso, how- 
 ever, that all this was not to be 'con- 
 strued so as in any way to encourage the 
 
 overthrow of any State Government, 
 or of the General Government of the 
 United States.' Only 'Amendment and 
 Repeal ' were sought ; and the flag ' that 
 our Fathers fought under in the Revo- 
 lution' was to be retained. Brown was 
 chosen Commander-in-chief; Secreta- 
 ries of State, of War, etc., were selected, 
 and many military commissions were 
 signed in blank. Mr. Villard says there 
 is much to admire in this surprising doc- 
 ument; but the presence of high moral- 
 ities therein does not prevent him, as 
 it had not previously prevented Von 
 Hoist, from noting the evidence of a 
 mind not entirely sane or normal. This 
 habit of documentary formality was 
 very persistent with Brown, and seems 
 to indicate a longing for orderly lines of 
 thought and action in spite of a painful 
 incapacity for carrying out the instinct^ 
 
 Only news of an assassination has 
 ever so startled our people as did the 
 news of the raid upon Harper's Ferry. 
 No popular rumor ran before it; only 
 a few persons, contributors to what 
 would now be called a 'blind pool,' 
 were in uneasy expectation of the ex- 
 plosion of some mysterious, desperate 
 scheme. It was on Sunday, October 
 16, 1859, that Brown led out his little 
 band of eighteen men from the Kennedy 
 farm in Maryland, where they had 
 been lurking several weeks. Their sud- 
 den attack upon the arsenal, occupied, 
 not garrisoned, only by civilian em- 
 ployees, was easily successful; but not 
 many hours later it became evident-- 
 even to Brown that they had only en- 
 sconced themselves in a trap which was 
 already closed. On Tuesday all was 
 over; ten of the raiders were slain or 
 mortally wounded, two of these being 
 sons of Brown; five, including Brown, 
 were prisoners; the others were saving 
 themselves by flight. 
 
 So sudden had the mad enterprise 
 been, and so promptly was it brought 
 to naught, that for the moment bewild- 
 
666 
 
 JOHN BROWN FIFTY YEARS AFTER 
 
 ermcnt rested upon all, — bewilder- 
 ment which changed into astonish- 
 ment as knowledge concerning the 
 plot was gathered, showing the folly 
 of it, the incredible stupidity. Mr. 
 Villard's exposition of these conditions, 
 especially as showing the state of 
 Brown's mind up to the close of the 
 
 / incident, is most interesting. It was 
 three or four years since the plan had 
 occurred to him; yet with so much 
 t ime for thought, he seems to ha\'e done 
 no thinking. So far as concerned pre- 
 paring a scheme, all had been blunder- 
 ing; as for plans for subsequent action, 
 whether in case of failure or success, all 
 had been vagueness. He had been 
 driven blindly forward by an uncon- 
 trollable desire to do an act; but when 
 it came to devising an effective act, or 
 a feasible manner of doing it, or any 
 way of escaping from miscarriage or of 
 improving success, his ideas had lapsed 
 into chaos, his mind had become piti- 
 fully helpless. 
 
 Naturally the cry of ' madman ' arose 
 on all sides; and equally of course 
 Brown's counsel, in the trial which 
 immediately ensued, wished to set up 
 insanity, the only possible defense. But 
 Brown decisively forbade it, and the 
 popular cry quickly ceased. So he was 
 tried, convicted, and executed as a 
 sane man; and ever since has been writ- 
 ten about, praised, blamed, judged as 
 a sane man, a fanatic certainly, too ex- 
 alted to be altogether of normal mind, 
 
 -"4nit responsibly intelligent, and en- 
 titled to credit, or suljject to discredit, 
 for ail that he did or said. He is habit- 
 ually called a Crusader, a Roundhead, 
 a Covenanter, or a Puritan, living out 
 of time, but never nowadays a luna- 
 tic. None the less the question was 
 not settled either by Brown's nega- 
 tion or by the sudden silence of the 
 people. His opinion was of no account ; 
 for if he was insane he certainly did not 
 know it. There was reason also why 
 
 the cry of 'madman' should die away 
 so soon as there was time for reflection. 
 For this theory robbed the slavery men 
 of a victim, and the anti-slavery men 
 of a martyr. So likew ise in these later 
 days, the establishment of Brown's in- 
 sanity would deprive the world of a 
 hero. In the face of such a possible 
 loss it may be well not to treat the point 
 as being' in doubt; yet, if to what we 
 have seen of Brown's mental workings 
 we add the fact that there was much 
 insanity among his kindred, it must 
 be admitted that a modern criminal 
 lawyer, with his cohort of alienist sub- 
 sidiaries, would probably be well con- 
 tent to take the case for the defense'^ 
 
 Whatever feeling of admiration, con- 
 demnation, or repulsion may be enter- 
 tained toward Brown prior to his cap- 
 ture, only one sentiment can be evoked 
 by the closing weeks; Dr. Rhodes's 
 ' century ' is not needed for that ripen- 
 ing. Yet how near it was to being lost ! 
 Lieutenant Green, hurrying to the at- 
 tack, snatched his dress-sword instead 
 of his heavy cavalry sabre. With the 
 light weapon he wounded Brown se- 
 verely in the head, and bent the blade; 
 the sabre would have done more deadly 
 work. In the latter case, as Mr. Villard 
 truly says. Brown would soon ha\e 
 been forgotten; it w^as by what came 
 after that skirmish that his apotheosis 
 was assured. v 
 
 It has been often said that if Christ's 
 life of humane teaching had not been 
 closed by a crucifixion, there would \\a.\Q 
 been no Christian religion. Brown's 
 worshipers are not backward with theiry 
 parallel. If Brown's violent career hacf 
 not been followed by his execution, 
 there would have been no — irhat? 
 What, indeed? a question that cannot 
 be shirked, if Dr. Rhodes's 'estimate' 
 is to be established. What has resulted 
 for mankind from his life and his deat h ? 
 There are various points of view. There 
 is the practical one, of his influence 
 
JOHN BROWN FIFTY YEARS AFTER 
 
 667^ 
 
 upon (he course of events. As to this 
 the fact must be admitted that every- 
 thing would have happened just as in 
 fact it did happen, if Brown had never 
 lived and never been hanged. For the 
 historian the Harper's Ferry raid is a 
 mere episode, a spectacular incident, 
 without consequences. There did, how- 
 ever, grow out of it a popular influence 
 of much though indefinite value, which 
 found expression in that famous war- 
 song which perpetuated his name as a 
 symbol. 
 
 Brown himself, gathering his wits 
 with surprising clearness after the sud- 
 den, confounding disappointment of 
 his disaster, amid shattered hopes and 
 suffering from wounds, knew at once 
 his unexpected usefulness. ' I am worth 
 inconceivably more to hang than for any 
 other purpo^ he said, shrewdly and 
 gallantly; and he saw in his personal 
 failure and sacrifice of life a link clev- 
 erly forged by God in the long chain of 
 His purpose. He was content. 
 
 \ Another and important point of view 
 relates to what Brown left behind him 
 for later generations of mankind. If he 
 has given them a grand ideal, a noble 
 example of self-devotion in the cause of 
 humanity, then his usefulness may be 
 even greater than he ever hoped for, 
 though in a way quite undreamed of by 
 him. The present tendency seems to 
 be in the direction of immortalizing 
 him as a hero, and heroes are well worth 
 having, even if, in order to do so, there 
 is need of some forgetting and much 
 forgiving. It is unfortunately true that 
 for Brown's apotheosis much must be 
 forgotten, and even more must be for- 
 given. I Upon the platform of the gallows 
 he still stood responsible for Pottawoto- 
 mie. Up to the time when he was taken 
 prisoner, one must have the tempera- 
 ment of an enthusiast to admire him; 
 thereafter, however, there is a some- 
 what different atmosphere. The element 
 of tenderness, which had run like a 
 
 fine (alas, too fine!) thread through his 
 stern, inexorable nature, now found 
 better expression in noble and touch- 
 ing letters to his family. There was per- 
 ceptible a tendency to persuade him- 
 self and others that he had been more 
 averse to bloodshed than the story of 
 his life would indicate; yet there was 
 not the slightest symptom of remorse 
 for any of his deeds of violence; indeed, 
 there could not properly or logically be 
 any remorse when he had been merely 
 an instrument to do God's will, and 
 his absolute certainty that this was the 
 case remained unshaken to his last 
 breath. It was characteristic, that even 
 now he could not see his lifelong error 
 in contemning the abolitionists who 
 used only words, though his own acts 
 of violence had led only to a ruin which 
 was humiliatingly fruitless; to the end 
 he could neither learn a lesson nor 
 acknowledge a mistake. 
 
 Finally he faced death with perfect 
 gallantry; indeed, he could not have 
 done otherwise after having so long 
 dealt lightly with mere life, whether 
 in taking it from his enemies, or in en- 
 couraging his sons and followers to 
 risk and lose it. Even his Southern 
 opponents chivalrously admitted that 
 his sincerity and his courage rendered 
 his closing days grand and impressive. 
 
 In these ultimate scenes Mr. Villard 
 at last finds and takes his opportunity. 
 Throughout his book he has borne him- 
 self with conscientious self-restraint. 
 But with Brown in prison and sure to 
 be hanged, he feels no longer the need 
 of the judicial poise; at last he is free to 
 write as his feelings dictate, and to use 
 in his picture the colors which he is sure 
 belong there. He has taken us through 
 the story of his hero's life, without 
 once telling us that it is of a hero 
 that we are reading; but now, when it 
 seems to him utterly impossible that 
 we should not recognize the fact, why 
 should he not sympathetically join 
 
p 
 
 ^ VVI 
 
 LIBRftRY OF CONGRESS 
 
 with us in generous and frank appreci- 
 ation? Now, too, we see how wise he 
 has been in the structure of that nar- 
 rative which at times we may have 
 thought a httle wearisomely minute; 
 for b.\- putting us into neighborly, daily 
 companionship with Brown, he has 
 caused us unconsciously to imbibe that 
 personal interest which may beget a 
 kindly sentiment even where there is 
 not tjuite approval. As the narrative 
 then expands in approaching Harper's 
 Ferry, we begin to get the sense of an 
 impending doom, and soon the final 
 events unroll with the awe and pathos 
 of impressive fate. The story has the 
 
 011 899 164 3 
 
 movement c 
 its simple b 
 tion of the 
 ness, then its vague foreboding of ter- 
 rible disaster, and finally its grand and 
 fatal close. Perhaps in thus dramat- 
 ically fashioning his volume Mr. Vil- 
 lard obeyed an instinct rather than 
 acted upon a preconceived plan; that 
 is often the case with great work, where 
 a writer's feelings are deeply enlisted. 
 Be this as it may, the merit and 
 charm are none the less; he has seized 
 well a splendid opportunity and has 
 written one of the great biographies 
 of our literature. 
 
 ^