twenty-first of the month, a band of slavery men swept down on the town
of Lawrence, and while the free-state citizens looked on, sacked and
burned the place. John Brown and his sons hurried there, but when they
reached Lawrence the houses were in ashes. He denounced the free-state
men as cowards, for to his ardent nature it seemed an outrage that
men should let themselves be treated so by ruffians. When a discreet
citizen said that they must act with caution John Brown burst out at
him: "Caution, caution, sir! I am eternally tired of hearing that word
caution--it is nothing but the word for cowardice!" There was nothing
for him to do, however, and he was about to turn toward home when a boy
came dashing up. He reported that the ruffians in the Swamp of the Swan
had warned all the women in the Brown settlement that they must leave
Kansas by Saturday or Sunday, or they would be driven out. The women
had been frightened, and taking their children, had fled in an ox-cart
to the house of a relative at a distance. The boy added that two houses
and a store near the settlement had been burned.
Those were dark days on the border, days that hardened men's natures.
Such a man as John Brown felt that it was his duty to stamp out the
pest of slavery at any cost. He turned to his sons and to some German
friends whose homes had been burned. "I will attend to those fellows,"
said he. "Something must be done to show these barbarians that we too
have rights!" A neighbor offered to carry the little band of men in his
wagon. They looked to their guns and cutlasses. Peace-loving people in
Lawrence grew uneasy. Judging from Brown's expression, they feared that
he was going to sow further trouble.
Eight men drove back to the Browns' settlement, and found that the
messenger's story was correct. They called a meeting of those who were
to be driven out of Kansas, according to the ruffians' threats. At the
meeting they decided to rid the country of the outlaws, who had only
come west to plunder, and some of whom had been employed in chasing
runaway slaves who had escaped from their masters. Their plans made,
Brown's band rode to a little saloon on the Pottawatomie Creek where the
raiders made their headquarters. Within an hour's walk were the men's
cabins. Members of Brown's band stopped at the door of each cabin that
night, and asked for the men they wanted. If the inmates hesitated to
open the door it was broken open. Two of the men on their list could
not be found, but five were led out into the woods and killed. It was a
horrible deed, barbarous even in those days of bloodshed. But Brown's
men felt that they were forced to do it.
John Brown thought that this one desperate act might set Kansas free;
but it only marked the beginning of a long and bloody drama. As soon
as the facts were known he and his sons became outlaws with prices on
their heads. Even his neighbors at Osawatomie were horrified at his act.
Two of his sons who had not been with him were arrested, and the little
settlement became a center of suspicion. The father withdrew to the
woods, and there about thirty-five men gathered about him. They lived
the life of outlaws, and neither slave-state nor free-state officers
dared to try to capture them. By chance a reporter of the New York
_Tribune_ came on their camp. He wrote: "I shall not soon forget the
scene that here opened to my view. Near the edge of the creek a dozen
horses were tied, all ready saddled for a ride for life, or a hunt
after Southern invaders. A dozen rifles and sabres were stacked against
the trees. In an open space, amid the shady and lofty woods, there was
a great blazing fire with a pot on it; a woman, bareheaded, with an
honest sunburnt face, was picking blackberries from the bushes; three or
four armed men were lying on red and blue blankets on the grass; and two
fine-looking youths were standing, leaning on their arms, on guard near
by.... Old Brown himself stood near the fire, with his shirt sleeves
rolled up, and a large piece of pork in his hand. He was cooking a pig.
He was poorly clad, and his toes protruded from his boots. The old man
received me with great cordiality, and the little band gathered about
me."
This band, living in forest and swamp, was always ready to strike a
blow for the free-state cause. The slavery men were getting the upper
hand, and Northern families who had settled in Kansas began to look to
John Brown for protection. The "border ruffians" grew worse and worse,
attacking small defenseless settlements, burning homes and carrying
off cattle. Sometimes it was only the fear of retaliation from Brown's
company that kept the raiders from still greater crimes. Occasionally
they met; once they fought a battle at Black Jack, and twenty-four
of the enemy finally surrendered to nine of Brown's men. One of the
leader's sons was badly wounded, and the father had to nurse him in the
woods.
Affairs grew worse during the summer. The vilest scum of the slave
states poured into Kansas, and the scenes on the border grew more and
more disgraceful. There were pitched battles, and at last the governor
of the territory, thoroughly scared, surrendered his power into the
hands of the slave-holders, and fled for his life. The slave-state men
thought that the time had come to strike a blow that should settle the
question in Kansas permanently. They prepared to gather an army in
Missouri, intending to cross into Kansas, and so terrify settlers from
the North that they would make no further resistance. Conditions looked
desperate to John Brown, and he left the territory for a short time to
see what he could do to get help for his cause.
A large band of emigrants from the North were on the march toward
Kansas, and Brown rode to meet them. The emigrants had heard of him, and
welcomed him to their midst. He encouraged them and urged them to fight
for freedom, and went on his way hoping to rouse more free-state men to
enter Kansas.
The East was now thoroughly awake to the lawless situation on the
border, and a new governor, Geary by name, was sent out from Washington.
Meetings were held in the large cities, and money, arms, and men
began to pour into Kansas. Several hundred men from Missouri attacked
Osawatomie, which was defended by Abolitionists, and a battle followed.
John Brown was there, and when his party won the day he gained the
nickname of "Osawatomie Brown," by which he was generally called
thereafter.
Fired by this success, the leaders of the free-state army planned to
capture Lawrence. The new governor feared that such an act would mean
the beginning of a general civil war, and did his best to prevent it.
He succeeded in this. The free-state men were divided into two parties,
those whose aim was to have Kansas admitted to the Union as a free
state, and those who, like John Brown, were bent on abolishing slavery
throughout the United States. Governor Geary assured the former men
that Kansas would be free soil, and he tried to induce Brown to leave
that part of the country for a time in the interest of peace. Brown was
willing to do as Governor Geary wished, thinking that Kansas was safe
for the present. He wanted to turn his attention to other parts of the
country, where he thought he was more needed. In September, 1856, he
started east with his sons. He was now a well-known figure, hated by
all slave-owners, a hero to Abolitionists, and distrusted by that large
number of men whose object was to secure peace at any cost.
There were many people in the North at that time who were helping
runaway slaves to escape from their masters, and in certain parts of
the country there were stations of what was called the "Underground
Railroad." Negroes fleeing from the tyranny of Southern owners were
helped along from one station to another, until they were finally safe
across the Canadian border. The law of the country said that negro
slaves were like any other form of property, and that it was the duty of
citizens to return runaways to their masters. There were also scattered
through the border states a number of men whose business it was to catch
fugitive slaves and take them back south. These men were usually of a
brutal type, and the poor refugee who fell into their clutches was made
to suffer for his attempt at escape. Story after story of the sufferings
of slaves came to John Brown's ears, and he felt that it was his duty
to throw himself into the work of the Underground Railroad, and help as
many slaves as possible to cross into Canada.
This work was not enough for him, however; he wanted to strike some blow
at the slave-owners themselves. The Alleghany Mountain range was one
of the main roads for fugitives, for there men could hide in the thick
forests of the mountainside, and could make some show of defense when
the slave-catchers and bloodhounds came in pursuit. John Brown knew this
country well. He traveled through the North, talking with other men who
felt as he did, and trying to work out a plan which should force the
country to decide this question of negro slavery. At last he decided to
make a raid into Southern territory, and free slaves for himself.
In the heart of the Alleghanies, and almost midway between Maine and
Florida, is a great natural gateway in the mountains. Here the Potomac
and the Shenandoah Rivers meet, and seem to force their way through the
natural barrier. This pass is Harper's Ferry, and in 1859 it was the
seat of a United States arsenal. To the south was a country filled
with slaves, who looked to Harper's Ferry as the highroad to freedom.
Not far from the arsenal rose the Blue Ridge Mountains, the heights of
which commanded the pass. It was John Brown's plan to lead men from
the Maryland side of the Potomac River to attack the arsenal, and when
it was captured to carry arms and ammunition across the Shenandoah to
Loudoun Heights in the Blue Ridge, and hide there. From here his band
could make raids to the south, freeing slaves, and shielding them from
their masters, while using the mountains for a shelter.
There were many other men in the United States bent on destroying
slavery, but few so impulsive as John Brown. His plan was rash in the
extreme, and even its success would have profited only a few slaves. But
Brown was a born crusader. The men who followed him were all impulsive,
and many of them were already trained in the rude ways of frontier life.
They knew what he had done in Kansas, and were ready to fight on his
side anywhere else. They had a real reverence for John Brown. The tall
man with the long, almost white hair, keen eyes, and flowing beard was
no ordinary leader. He had the power to convince men that his cause was
just, and to hold them in his service afterward.
In June, 1859, John Brown, with two of his sons, and two friends,
started south. He rented a farm about five miles from Harper's Ferry,
in a quiet, out-of-the-way place. There were several cabins in the
neighborhood, and as his followers gradually joined him, they occupied
these shelters. A daughter kept house for him during the summer. The men
farmed in the daytime, and planned their conspiracy at night. The leader
did everything he could to win the friendship of his neighbors. He had
some knowledge of medicine, and attended all who were sick. Frequently
he preached in the little Dunker chapel near by. He was always ready
to share his food or give the shelter of his roof to any travelers.
Slowly he collected guns and ammunition, and late in September sent
his daughter north, and arranged to make his attack. At first some of
the other men objected to his plans. One or two did not approve of his
seizing the government arsenal, and thought they should simply make a
raid into Virginia as the slave-state men had formerly carried war into
Kansas. Their leader, however, was determined, and nothing could turn
him. Already he feared lest some suspicion of his purpose might have
spread, and was eager to make his start. He set Sunday night, October
16th, as the time for the raid. That morning he called his men together
and read to them from the Bible. In the afternoon he gave them final
instructions, and added: "And now, gentlemen, let me impress this one
thing upon your minds. You all know how dear life is to you, and how
dear life is to your friends. And in remembering that, consider that
the lives of others are as dear to them as yours are to you. Do not,
therefore, take the life of any one, if you can possibly avoid it; but
if it is necessary to take life in order to save your own, then make
sure work of it."
At eight o'clock that night the old farm was alive with action. John
Brown called: "Men, get on your arms; we will proceed to the Ferry."
His horse and wagon were driven up before the door, and some pikes, a
sledge-hammer, and a crowbar were put in it. John Brown pulled on his
old Kansas cap, and cried: "Come, boys!" and they went into the lane
that wound down the hill to the highroad.
Each of the band had been told exactly what he was to do. Two of the
men were to cut the telegraph lines, and two others were to detain the
sentinels at the bridge. Men were detailed to hold each of the bridges
over the two rivers, and others to occupy the engine house in the
arsenal yard.
The night was cold and dark. John Brown drove his one-horse farm-wagon,
and the men straggled behind him. They had to cover five miles through
woods and over hills before they came down to the narrow road between
the cliffs and the Cincinnati and Ohio canal. Telegraph wires were cut,
the watchman on the bridge was arrested, and the band found their way
open into Harper's Ferry.
Their object was to seize the arms in the arsenal and rifle factory.
They marched to the armory gate, where they found a watchman. "Open the
gate," one of Brown's men ordered. The watchman said that he could not,
and another of the band declared that there was no time for talk, but
that he would get a crowbar and hammer from the wagon. He twisted the
crowbar in the chain that held the gate, and broke it open; then leaving
the watchman in the care of two men, the rest made a dash for the
arsenal.
A great deal happened in a short time. Guards were overpowered, the
bridge secured, and the river forded close to the rifle-works. Not a gun
had to be fired, and both soldiers and civilians did as they were bid
by the armed men. Others of the raiders hurried out into the country,
and meeting some colored men, told them their plans, and the latter at
once agreed to join them. Each of the negroes was sent at once to stir
up the slaves in the neighborhood, and bring them to Harper's Ferry. The
raiders then came to the house of Colonel Lewis Washington. They knocked
on the door, and were admitted. Colonel Washington asked what they
wanted. The leader answered, "You are our prisoner, and must come to the
Ferry with us." The Virginian replied, "You can have my slaves, if you
will let me remain." He was told, however, that he must go back with
them; and so he did, together with a large four-horse wagon and some
arms, guns, swords, and cartridges.
Others of the band had brought in more Virginia prisoners. An east-bound
train on the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad that reached Harper's Ferry
about one o'clock in the morning was detained, and the passengers were
kept there until sunrise. John Brown was in command at the arsenal,
and the rest of his band were acting at different points. By morning
the people of the village were all alarmed. They did not know what the
raiders meant to do, but many of them fled to the mountains, spreading
the news as they went.
In spite of some little confusion among his followers, practically all
of John Brown's plans had been successful up to this point. He had
captured the armory, and armed about fifty slaves. His next object was
to get the store of guns and ammunition that he had left at his farm.
Here came the first hitch in his plans. He ordered two of his men, Cook
and Tidd, to take some of the freed slaves in Colonel Washington's
wagon, and drive to the house of a man named Terrence Burns, and take
him, his brother and their slaves prisoners. Cook was to stay at Burns's
house while Tidd and the negroes were to go to John Brown's farm, load
the guns in the wagon, and bring them back to a schoolhouse near the
Ferry, stopping on the way for Cook and his prisoners. This the two men
did; but they were so slow in getting the arms from the farm to the
schoolhouse, a distance of not over three miles, that much valuable
time was lost. Cook halted to make a speech on human equality at one
of the houses they passed, and Tidd stopped his wagon frequently and
talked with passers-by on the road. They had the first load of arms at
the schoolhouse by ten o'clock in the morning, but it was four o'clock
in the afternoon before the second load arrived. All the guns and arms
should have been at the schoolhouse by ten o'clock, if the men had
followed John Brown's orders strictly.
John Brown probably still intended to carry his arms, together with the
prisoners and their slaves, up to Loudoun Heights, where he would be
safe for some time, but his men were so slow in obeying his orders that
the enemy was given time to collect. The train that had left Harper's
Ferry that morning carried word of the raid throughout the countryside,
and men gathered in the neighboring villages ready to march on Harper's
Ferry and put an end to the disturbance. John Brown held thousands of
muskets and rifles in the arsenal, while the men who were marching
to attack him were for the most part armed with squirrel guns and
old-fashioned fowling-pieces. The militia collected rapidly, and marched
toward the Ferry from all directions. By noon the Jefferson Guards had
seized the bridge that crossed the Potomac. Meantime John Brown had
girded to his side a sword that had belonged to Lafayette, that had been
taken from Colonel Lewis Washington's house the night before, called
his men from the arsenal into the street, and said, "The troops are on
the bridge, coming into town; we will give them a warm reception." He
walked back and forth before the small band, encouraging them. "Men, be
cool!" he urged. "Don't waste your powder and shot! Take aim, and make
every shot count! The troops will look for us to retreat on their first
appearance; be careful to shoot first."
The militia soon advanced across the bridge and up the main street.
When they were some sixty or seventy yards away from the raiders John
Brown gave the order to fire. Some of the militia fell. Other volleys
followed; and the attacking party was thrown into disorder. Finally
they were driven back to the bridge, and took up a position there until
reinforcements arrived. As they retreated John Brown ordered his men
back to the arsenal. In the lull of the firing nearly all the unarmed
people who were still in the town fled to the hills.
It was now one o'clock in the afternoon, and the band of raiders could
have escaped to Loudoun Heights. But their leader wanted to carry the
guns and ammunition away with him, and to do this he needed the aid
of the rest of his men. He sent a messenger to one of his followers
named Kagi, who was stationed with several others on the bank of the
Shenandoah, with orders for him to hold the place a short time longer.
The messenger, however, was fired on and wounded before he could reach
Kagi, and the latter's party was soon attacked by a force of militia,
and driven into the river. A large flat rock stood up in the river, and
four of the five raiders reached this. There three of them fell before
the fire of bullets, and the fourth was taken a prisoner. In similar
ways the number of John Brown's men was much reduced.
The leader realized the danger of the situation, and decided that
his best chance of escape lay in using the prisoners he had captured
as hostages for his band's safe retreat. He moved his men, and the
more important of the prisoners, to a small brick building called the
engine-house. There he said to his captives, "Gentlemen, perhaps you
wonder why I have selected you from the others. It is because I believe
you to be the most influential; and I have only to say now that you will
have to share precisely the same fate that your friends extend to my
men." He ordered the doors and windows barricaded, and port-holes cut in
the walls.
The engine-house now became the raiders' citadel, and the militia and
bands of farmers who were arriving at Harper's Ferry released the
prisoners who were still in the arsenal, and concentrated all their fire
on the band in the small brick house.
As the sun set the town filled with troops, and it was evident that the
men in the fort would have to surrender. They kept up their firing,
however, from the port-holes, and were answered with a rain of bullets
aimed at the doors and windows. Both sides lost a number of men. Two of
John Brown's sons had been shot during the day. Finally the leader asked
if one of his prisoners would volunteer to go out among the citizens and
induce them to cease firing on the fort, as they were endangering the
lives of their friends, the other captives. He promised that if they
would stop firing his men would do the same. One of the prisoners agreed
to try this, and the firing ceased for a time.
More troops poured into Harper's Ferry, and presently Colonel Robert E.
Lee arrived with a force of United States marines. Guards were set about
the engine-house to see that John Brown and his men did not escape. Then
Colonel Lee sent a flag of truce to the engine-house, and in the name of
the United States demanded that Brown surrender, advising him to throw
himself on the clemency of the government. John Brown answered that he
knew what that meant, and added, "I prefer to die just here." Again in
the morning Lee sent his aide to the fort. The officer asked, "Are you
ready to surrender, and trust to the mercy of the government?" Brown
answered, "No, I prefer to die here." Then the soldiers attacked, not
with guns this time, but with sledge-hammers, intending to break down
the doors. This did not succeed, and seizing a long ladder they used
it as a battering-ram, and finally broke the fastenings of the main
door. Lieutenant Green pushed his way in, and, jumping on top of the
engine, looked about for John Brown. Amid a storm of bullets, he saw
the white-haired leader, and sprang at him, at the same time striking
at him with his sword. John Brown fell forward, with his head between
his knees. In a few minutes all of the raiders who were left in the
engine-house had surrendered to the government troops.
Of the band that had left the farm on Sunday night seven were taken
prisoners, ten had been killed in the fighting, and six others had
managed to make their escape. By noon of Tuesday, October 18th, the raid
was over. John Brown, wounded in half a dozen places, lay on the floor
of the engine-house; and the governor of Virginia bent over him. "Who
are you?" asked the governor. The old man answered, "My name is John
Brown; I have been well known as old John Brown of Kansas. Two of my
sons were killed here to-day, and I'm dying too. I came here to liberate
slaves, and was to receive no reward. I have acted from a sense of duty,
and am content to await my fate; but I think the crowd have treated me
badly. I am an old man. Yesterday I could have killed whom I chose; but
I had no desire to kill any person, and would not have killed a man had
they not tried to kill me and my men. I could have sacked and burned the
town, but did not; I have treated the persons whom I took as hostages
kindly, and I appeal to them for the truth of what I say. If I had
succeeded in running off slaves this time, I could have raised twenty
times as many men as I have now for a similar expedition. But I have
failed."
The news of John Brown's raid spread through the country, and the people
North and South were amazed and bewildered. They had grown used to
hearing of warfare in the distant borderland of Kansas, but this was
a battle that had taken place in the very heart of the Union. Men did
not know what to think of it. John Brown appeared to many of them as a
monstrous figure, a firebrand who would touch his torch to the tinder
of slavery, and set the whole nation in a blaze. Newspapers and public
speakers denounced him. They said he was attacking the foundations of
the country when he seized the arsenal and freed slaves from their
lawful owners. Only a handful of men had any good to say for him, and
that handful were looked upon as madmen by their neighbors. Only a few
could read the handwriting on the wall, and realize that John Brown was
merely a year or two in advance of the times.