The news of the coming of the South Carolinians had not reached Illinois
when I started for Kansas, but when I had reached Western Missouri the
country was alive with excitement. Maj. Jefferson Buford had arrived
with 350 soldiers, and a part of them were quartered in Atchison. Some
persons whose acquaintance I had made, and who were my friends, besought
me not to go on.
The last night I stayed in Missouri was at De Kalb. A gentleman who
had come from St. Joseph stayed over night at the hotel where I put
up. He was tall of stature, with a flowing beard sprinkled with gray,
and was of a remarkably dignified and impressive presence. We
conversed during the evening on general topics, but no allusion was
made to the one exciting topic, on which almost all seemed ready to
talk _instanter._
The next morning he overtook me. He was on horseback, and mentioned
that he was going to Atchison, and for some distance rode beside my
buggy, continuing the conversation. Then, as he could travel faster
than myself, he rode on.
The reader will recognize this gentleman again in Atchison. An account
of my adventures [4] on the other side of the river will be found in a
letter addressed by myself to the _Herald of Freedom_:
[For the Herald of Freedom.]
STRANGER CREEK, Ocena P. O., May 6, 1856.
MR. EDITOR--_Dear Sir_: The bar of public opinion seems to
be the only tribunal to which the free State men of Kansas
can appeal for redress. I must, therefore, ask your
indulgence while I make a statement of facts.
One year ago I came to Kansas and bought a claim on
Stranger Creek, Atchison county. On the 17th of August,
the Border Ruffians of the town of Atchison sent me down
the Missouri River on a raft. We parted under a mutual
pledge: I pledged myself that if my life was spared I
would come back to Atchison, and they pledged themselves
that if I did come back they would hang me. Faithful to my
promise, in November last I returned to Kansas, and
visited Atchison in open day, announced myself on hand,
and returned without molestation. Kansas being sparsely
settled, without churches or meeting-houses, it was
determined that Mrs. Butler should live on our claim with
her brother and her brother's wife, while I should return
to Illinois, and resume my labors as a preacher.
April 30th I returned to Kansas, crossing the Missouri
River into Atchison. I spoke with no one in the town, save
with two merchants of the place, with whom I have had
business transactions since my first arrival in the
Territory. Having remained only a few moments, I went to
my buggy to resume my journey, when I was assaulted by
Robert S. Kelley, co-editor of the _Squatter Sovereign_,
and others, was dragged into a saloon, and there
surrounded by a company of South Carolinians, who are
reported to have been sent out by a Southern Emigrant Aid
Society. In this last mob I recognized only two that were
citizens of Atchison or engaged in the former mob. It is
not reported that these emigrants from the Palmetto State
seek out a claim, and make for themselves a home, neither
do they enter into any legitimate business. They very
expressively describe themselves as having _come out to
see Kansas through._ They yelled, "Kill him! Kill him!
Hang the Abolitionist." One of their number bristled up to
me and said, "Have you got a revolver?" I answered, "No."
He handed me a pistol and said, "There, take that, and
stand off ten steps; and I will blow you through in an
instant." I replied, "I have no use for your weapon." I
afterwards heard them congratulating themselves in
reference to this, that they had acted in an honorable
manner with me. The fellow was furious; but his companions
dissuaded him from shooting me, saying they were going to
hang me.
They pinioned my arms behind my back, obtained a rope, but
were interrupted by the entrance of a stranger--a
gentleman from Missouri, since ascertained to be Judge
Tutt, a lawyer from St. Joseph. He said: "My friends, hear
me. I am an old man, and it is right you should hear me. I
was born in Virginia, and have lived many years in
Missouri. I am a slaveholder, and desire Kansas to be made
a slave State, if it can be done by honorable means. But
you will destroy the cause you are seeking to build up.
You have taken this man, who was peaceably passing through
your streets and along the public highway, and doing no
person any harm. We profess to be 'Law and Order' men, and
ought to be the last to commit violence. If this man has
broken the law, let him be judged according to law; but
for the sake of Missouri, for the sake of Kansas, for the
sake of the pro-slavery cause, do not act in this way."
They dragged me into another building, and appointed a
moderator, and got up a kind of lynch law trial. Kelley
told his story. I rose to my feet, and calmly and in
respectful language began to tell mine; but I was jerked
to my seat and so roughly handled that I was compelled to
desist. My friend from Missouri again earnestly besought
them to set me at liberty. Kelley turned short on him and
said: "Do you belong to Kansas?" Judge Tutt replied: "No;
but I expect to live here in Atchison next fall, and in
this matter the interests of Kansas and Missouri are
identical." Chester Lamb, a lawyer in Atchison, and Samuel
Dickson, a merchant of the place, both pro slavery men,
also united with Judge Tutt in pleading that I might be
set at liberty. While these gentlemen were speaking, I
heard my keepers mutter, "If you don't hush up, we will
tar and feather you." But when Kelley saw how matters
stood, he came forward and said he "did not take Butler to
have him hung, but only tarred and feathered," Yet in the
saloon he had sad to the mob: "_You shall do as you
please._" He dared not take the responsibility of taking
my life, but when these unfortunate men, whose
one-idea-ism on the subject of slavery and Southern rights
has become insanity--when these irresponsible South
Carolinians, sent out to be bull dogs and blood hounds for
Atchison and Stringfellow--when they could be used as
tools to take my life, he was ready to do it.
Our gunpowder moderator cut the matter short by saying,
"It is moved that Butler be tarred and feathered and
receive thirty-nine lashes." A majority said "Aye," though
a number of voices said "No." The moderator said, "The
affirmative has it; Butler has to be tarred and feathered
and whipped." I began to speculate how that sort of thing
would work as far north as the latitude of Kansas. There
was a good deal of whispering about the house. I saw dark,
threatening and ominous looks in the crowd. The moderator
again came forward, and, in an altered voice, said: "_It
is moved that the last part of the sentence be
rescinded."_ It was rescinded, and I was given into the
hands of my South Carolina overseers to be tarred and
feathered. They muttered and growled at this issue of the
matter. They said, "If we had known it would come out in
this way, we would have let shoot Butler at the first. He
would have done it quicker than a flash." One little,
sharp-visaged, dark-featured South Carolinian, who seemed
to be the leader of the gang, was particularly displeased.
With bitter curses he said, "I am not come all the way
from South Carolina, spending so much money to do things
up in such milk-and-water style as this."
They stripped me naked to my waist, covered my body with
tar, and for the want of feathers applied cotton. Having
appointed a committee of seven to certainly hang me the
next time I should come into Atchison, they tossed my
clothes into my buggy, put me therein, accompanied me to
the outskirts of the town, and sent me naked out upon the
prairie. It was a cold, bleak day. I adjusted my attire
about me as best I could, and hastened to rejoin my wife
and little ones on the banks of the Stranger Creek. It was
a sorrowful meeting after so long a parting, still we were
very thankful that, under the favor of a good Providence,
it had fared no worse with us all.
Many will ask now, as they have asked already, what is the
true and proper cause of all these troubles I have had in
Atchison? I have told the world already; I can only repeat
my own words. I have said, The head and front of my
offending hath this extent, no more: I had spoken among my
neighbors favorably to making Kansas a free State, and
said in the office of the _Squatter Sovereign_, "I am a
Free-soiler, and intend to vote for Kansas to be a free
State."
Still it will be regarded as incredible that a man should
receive such treatment for uttering such words as I report
myself to have uttered. The matter is plain enough when
the facts are understood.
Prior to August 17, 1855, there was no Free-soil party
organized in Atchison county--perhaps not in the whole
Territory of Kansas. Free-soilers did not know their own
strength, and were disposed to be prudent; some were
timid. Here in Atchison county we determined that if the
Border Ruffians were resolved to drive matters to a bloody
issue, the responsibility of doing so should rest wholly
with themselves. There are many Free-soilers in this
county--brave men--who have no conscientious scruples to
hinder them from arming themselves, and preparing to repel
force with force. The Border Ruffians sought by a system
of terrorism so to intimidate the Free-soilers as to
prevent them from organizing a Free-soil party, or even
discussing the subject of freedom and slavery in Kansas.
They carried this to such an extent of outrageous violence
that it came to be currently reported that it was as much
as a man's life was worth to say in the town of Atchison,
"I am a Free-soiler." We deprecated violence, and wished a
peaceful discussion of the subject. It was therefore most
fitting that a man whose profession forbade him to go
armed should put to the test of actual experiment whether
an American citizen of blameless life could be permitted
to enjoy the right of free speech--the privilege of
expressing views favorable to making Kansas a free
State--such views being uttered without anything of angry,
abusive or insulting language. It was for this purpose the
above words were spoken, and which have been the cause of
all my troubles in Atchison.
If there is any class of men who stand behind the curtain
and pull the wires, we would respectfully represent to
them that it will do no good to urge these understrappers
on to these deeds of violence and ruffianism. We are not a
class of men to utter childish complaints at any wrongs we
may suffer, _but we know our rights and intend to have
them._
Subscribing myself the friend of all good and civil men,
whether North or South, I am very truly, PARDEE BUTLER.