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Culture
A Long Night’s Journey into Day
by Michael Cervin
It was nearing midnight when 22 men left the farm where they had been hiding in secret and planning their attack for months. They trekked the five miles on foot in the October cold, following the line of the river to guide them. It was nearly 4 a.m. as they crossed the river and found their target, a federal arsenal, burgeoning with weapons. Once there, they easily subdued the two guards on duty. The raid had begun.
John Brown was a tall, lanky man of six feet, a mere 59 years old when he and his loose aggregate group of followers decided to attack Harpers Ferry in Virginia in 1859. Planning for victory, his ill-timed and poorly planned raid was a disaster. Years of commitment to abolishing slavery culminated in miserable failure. Well, sort of.
John Brown is a pivotal figure in American history, yet outside of civil war buffs, historians and those living in the region, he has become a footnote. However, Brown single handedly set the stage for the Civil War and his dedication to eradicating slavery put many zealots of his day to shame. Brown was not simply opposed to slavery; he dedicated his life, and ultimately his death, to making certain it was exposed for the immoral action that it was. 2009 marks the 150th anniversary of his raid on Harpers Ferry and his attempt at forging his own destiny.
“What he did, in my opinion, was that he forced the slavery issue. He brought it to the forefront,” says Bob O’Connor, author of three books on the Civil War era including, The Perfect Steel Trap: Harpers Ferry 1859. In a peculiar or perhaps cosmically amusing overture, 2009 has lined up as a unique time. This year is the 200th anniversary of Abraham Lincoln’s birth, the 100th anniversary of the NAACP, the 150th anniversary of John Brown’s raid, and Barack Obama has taken office as the first African-American president. “I think the planets have definitely aligned,” O’Conner says. “It’s an interesting scenario and I think you’ve got the founders of the NAACP, Lincoln and Brown all smiling because you’ve got a black president.” One can assume they would be happy. But in 1859, Brown’s actions angered slave owners. “John Brown has merely told what time of day it is,” anti-slavery newspaper publisher William Lloyd Garrison wrote. “It is high noon.” The country would never be the same.
The facts are there for anyone to analyze. His first wife had died and nine of his 20 children were dead as well. He was a failure at most everything he put his hand to and he’d accumulated debts he could never pay. In 1847, he had a seminal moment that would alter his path and help shape American history. In a small church in Hudson, Ohio, Brown answered the call to abolish slavery permanently. A noble cause, yes, but the man himself wasn’t always so noble. Brown and his sons hacked five pro-slavery men to death with broadswords in Kansas in 1856, then escaped. Brown’s raid was designed to agitate the white slave-owning population, and give the courage for slaves to rise up, kill their masters in their beds and join Brown on a crusade to stomp out slavery. He was convinced that once word got out, his ranks would swell and a mighty force would form. He defiantly stormed the armory in Virginia and took hostages, one of whom just happened to be George Washington’s great grandnephew. Decades later, all that remains of Brown’s raid is the brick building: a two room fire engine house in which he sequestered himself and his hostages. No slaves joined him that night. Angry townspeople arose instead and, similar to the rest of his life, nothing went right. Ironically, the first man killed in the raid was the town baggage-master, Hayward Shepherd, a free black man. The first of Brown’s followers to die was Dangerfield Newby, a former slave. Federal troops were sent to quell the uprising, headed by then Colonel Robert E. Lee. They stormed the building to end the stalemate, killing two of Brown’s sons and wounding Brown himself. In a strange twist of fate, Lieutenant Israel Green, the military man first inside the engine house, drew his sword and stabbed Brown. But Green carried a ceremonial sword, and it bent. Brown, though wounded, did not die.
In the aftermath of the raid, many speculated that had Brown been killed, his anti-slavery message would never have reached so wide an audience. Brown was tried for treason and during the time he was held in prison, hundreds of reporters from around the world converged on Harpers Ferry, recording Brown’s denunciation of slavery and telegraphing it to a waiting worldwide audience.
He seemed to many as a fanatic, a wild eyed man with nothing to lose, just the sort of agitator you don’t want to come across. To others he was a martyr, a man who drew a line in the sand. It’s easy in hindsight to dismiss him as a nut case. “I think Brown was a freedom fighter,” O’Connor muses. “He had a mission to free the slaves. I don’t think anyone would say that wasn’t a noble purpose.”
But Brown was a man blunted by contradictions. “The nation and the world doesn’t know what to do with him,” O’Connor says. Frankly, neither does Harpers Ferry. There is a sense of ambivalence in the small hamlet about Brown’s actions and the unwanted attention he’s brought to the place. Tourists still flock to the beautiful spot, perched on a hilltop overlooking the confluence of the Potomac and Shenandoah rivers. But many residents would prefer if history would forget about Brown. However, 9/11 brought up the old feelings again. Was Brown right in his beliefs, regardless of his actions? Or were his actions justifiable given his altruistic intentions? It depends on whom you ask. “There’s a fine line between a terrorist and a freedom fighter,” O’Connor concedes. “If George Washington lost the revolutionary war he would have been hanged by the neck, along with a lot of his buddies.” Had Brown’s campaign succeeded, history might consider him a hero and a patriot. But an ignoble death and flat out failure has reduced him to a forgotten episode.
Can the ends ever be justified by the means we employ? On November 2, 1859, after being convicted of treason, John Brown addressed the court: “I believe that to have interfered as I have done, as I have always admitted I have done, on behalf of God’s despised poor was not wrong but right. I feel no consciousness of my guilt.” One month later, on December 2, 1859, Brown ascended the steps to the gallows and was hanged. His actions caused others to reevaluate theirs. According to Virginia law, Brown was guilty of treason. But moral law may have reached a different conclusion.
Our lives are the sum of our choices and as we look into the mirror, only we know the inner workings of our hearts. And yet one act at the end of a life can change everything. One wrong choice can mar a lifetime of service. One right choice can potentially erase years of bad deeds. At the very least, John Brown stood and fought for something he fully believed in to help those who could not help themselves. The very least we can do, as mindful citizens of planet Earth, is to stand up and be counted. Right or wrong, Brown put his life on the line. “His zeal in the cause of freedom was infinitely more superior to mine,” said Frederick Douglass, the free African American orator and writer. “I could live for the slaves; John Brown could die for them.” Talk may be cheap, but inaction can be fatal.
Michael Cervin is the author of numerous historical articles and the recent book, Generous Fiction. To find out more about his work and his radio show, visit www.CervinItStraight.com.