Chapter VII: The Swamp of the Swan (1)

“And his fellow answered and said, This is nothing else save the
sword of Gideon the son of Joash, a man of Israel: for into his
hands hath God delivered Midian, and all the host.”

“Did you go out under the auspices of the Emigrant Aid Society?” asked the Inquisition of John Brown in after years. He answered grimly: “No, sir, I went out under the auspices of John Brown.” In broad outline the story of his coming to Kansas has been told in the last chapter, but the picture needs now to be filled in with the details of his personal fortunes, and a more careful study of the development of his personal character in this critical period of his career. The place of his coming was storied and romantic. French-fathered Indians wheeling onward in their swift canoes saw stately birds in the reedy lowlands of eastern Kansas and called the marsh the Swamp of the Swan. Up from the dark sluggish rivers rose rolling goodly lands over which John Brown’s brother Edward had passed to California in 1849, and on which his brother-in-law had settled as early as 1854. Here, too, naturally had followed the five pioneering sons in April, 1855. They came hating slavery and yet peacefully, unarmed, and in all good faith, with cattle and horses and trees and vines to settle in a free land. In Missouri they met hatred and inhospitality, and in Kansas sickness and freezing weather. Nevertheless they were stout-hearted and hopeful, and went bravely to work until the political storm broke, when they wrote home hastily for arms to defend themselves. John Brown, as we have seen, brought the arms himself, taking his son Oliver and his son-in-law Henry with him. “We reached the place where the boys are located one week ago, late at night,” he wrote October 13, 1855. “We had between us all, sixty cents in cash when we arrived. We found our folks in a most uncomfortable situation, with no houses to shelter one of them, no hay or corn fodder of any account secured, shivering over their little fires, all exposed to the dreadful cutting winds, morning, evening and stormy days.” All went to work to build cabins and secure fodder, keeping at the same time a careful eye on the political developments. On free state election day, October 9th, “hearing that there was a prospect of difficulty, we all turned out most thoroughly armed,” but “no enemy appeared” and Brown was encouraged to think that the prospect of Kansas becoming free “is brightening every day.”

By November the settlers, he wrote, “have made but little progress, but we have made a little. We have got a shanty three logs high, chinked and mudded, and roofed with our tent, and a chimney so far advanced that we can keep a fire in it for Jason. John has his shanty a little better fixed than it was, but miserable enough now; and we have got their little crop of beans secured, which together with johnny cake, mush and milk, pumpkins and squashes, constitute our fare.” And he adds, “After all God’s tender mercies are not taken from us.... I feel more and more confident that slavery will soon die out here—and to God be the praise!”

On November 23d he writes: “We have got both families so sheltered that they need not suffer hereafter; have got part of the hay (which had been in cocks) secured; made some progress in preparation to build a house for John and Owen; and Salmon has caught a prairie wolf in a steel trap. We continue to have a good deal of stormy weather—rains with severe winds, and forming into ice as they fall, together with cold nights that freeze the ground considerably. Still God has not forsaken us!”[93]

It was thus that John Brown came to Kansas and stood ready to fight for freedom. No sooner had he stepped on Kansas soil, however, than it was plain to him and to others that the cause for which he was fighting was far different from that for which most of the settlers were willing to risk life and property. The difference came out at the first meeting of settlers in the little Osawatomie township. Redpath says: “The politicians of the neighborhood were carefully pruning resolutions so as to suit every variety of anti-slavery extensionists; and more especially that class of persons whose opposition to slavery was founded on expediency—the selfishness of race, and caste, and interest: men who were desirous that Kansas should be consecrated to free white labor only, not to freedom for all and above all.” The resolution which aroused the old man’s anger declared that Kansas should be a free white state, thereby favoring the exclusion of Negroes and mulattoes, whether slave or free. He rose to speak, and soon alarmed and disgusted the politicians by asserting the manhood of the Negro race, and expressing his earnest, anti-slavery convictions with a force and vehemence little likely to suit the hybrids.[94]

Nothing daunted by the cold reception of his radical ideas here, Brown strove to extend them when a larger opportunity came at the first beleaguering of Lawrence. It was in December, 1855, when rumors of the surrounding of Lawrence by the governor and his pro-slavery followers came to the Browns. The old man wrote home: “These reports appeared to be well authenticated, but we could get no further accounts of the matters; and I left this for the place where the boys are settled, at evening, intending to go to Lawrence to learn the facts the next day. John was, however, started on horseback; but before he had gone many rods, word came that our help was immediately wanted. On getting this last news, it was at once agreed to break up at John’s camp, and take Wealthy and Johnnie to Jason’s camp (some two miles off), and that all the men but Henry, Jason, and Oliver should at once set off for Lawrence under arms; those three being wholly unfit for duty. We then set about providing a little corn bread and meat, blankets, and cooking utensils, running bullets and loading all our guns, pistols, etc. The five set off in the afternoon, and after a short rest in the night (which was quite dark), continued our march until after daylight; next morning, when we got our breakfast, started again, and reached Lawrence in the forenoon, all of us more or less lamed by our tramp.”[95]

The band approached the town at sunset, looming strangely on the horizon: an old horse, a homely wagon and seven stalwart men armed with pikes, swords, pistols and guns. John Brown was immediately put in command of a company. He found that already “negotiations had commenced between Governor Shannon (having a force of some fifteen or sixteen hundred men) and the principal leaders of the free state men, they having a force of some five hundred men at that time. These were busy, night and day, fortifying the town with embankments and circular earthworks, up to the time of the treaty with the governor, as an attack was constantly looked for, notwithstanding the negotiations then pending. This state of things continued from Friday until Sunday evening,”[96] when Governor Shannon was induced to enter the town and after some parley a treaty was announced. Immediately Brown’s suspicions were aroused. He surmised that the governor’s party had not thus lightly given up the fight for slavery, and he feared that the leading free state politicians had sacrificed the principles for which he was fighting for the sake of the temporary truce. Already the drunken governor was making conciliatory remarks to the crowd in front of the free state hotel, the free state Governor Robinson replying, when John Brown, mounting a piece of timber at the corner of the house, began a fiery speech. “He said that the people of Missouri had come to Kansas to destroy Lawrence; that they had beleaguered the town for two weeks, threatening its destruction; that they came for blood; that he believed, ‘without the shedding of blood there is no remission’; and asked for volunteers to go under his command, and attack the pro-slavery camp stationed near Franklin, some four miles from Lawrence.... He demanded to know what the terms were. If he understood Governor Shannon’s speech, something had been conceded, and he conveyed the idea that the territorial laws were to be observed. Those laws he denounced and spit upon, and would never obey—no! The crowd was fired by his earnestness and a great echoing shout arose: ‘No! No! Down with the bogus laws. Lead us out to fight first!’ For a moment matters looked serious to the free state leaders who had so ingeniously engineered the compromise, and they hastened to assure Brown that he was mistaken; that there had been no surrendering of principles on their side.”[97] The real terms of the treaty were kept secret, but Brown with his usual loyalty accepted their word as true and wrote exultingly home: “So ended this last Kansas invasion,—the Missourians returning with flying colors, after incurring heavy expenses, suffering great exposure, hardships, and privations, not having fought any battles, burned or destroyed any infant towns or Abolition presses; leaving the free state men organized and armed, and in full possession of the Territory; not having fulfilled any of all their dreadful threatenings, except to murder one unarmed man, and to commit some robberies and waste of property upon the defenseless families, unfortunately within their power. We learn by their papers that they boast of a great victory over the Abolitionists; and well they may. Free state men have only hereafter to retain the footing they have gained, and Kansas is free.”[98]

The Wakarusa “treaty,” however, was but a winter’s truce as John Brown soon saw; his distrust of the compromisers and politicians grew, and he tried to get his own channels of news from the seat of government at Washington. “We are very anxious to know what Congress is doing. We hear that Frank Pierce means to crush the men of Kansas. I do not know how well he may succeed, but I think he may find his hands full before it is all over.”[99] And Joshua R. Giddings assures him that the President “never will dare to employ the troops of the United States to shoot the citizens of Kansas.”[100] Yet the President did dare. Not only were regular troops put into the hands of the Kansas slave power, but armed bands from the South appeared, and one in particular from Georgia encamped on the Swamp of the Swan near the Brown settlement. John Brown’s procedure was characteristic. With his surveying instruments in hand one May morning, he sauntered into their camp. He was immediately taken for a government surveyor and consequently “sound on the goose,” for “every governor sent here, every secretary, every judge, every Indian agent, every land surveyor, every clerk in every office, believed in making Kansas a slave state. All the money sent here by the national government was disbursed by pro-slavery officials to pro-slavery menials.”[101] Brown took with him, his son says, “four of my brothers,—Owen, Frederick, Salmon, and Oliver,—as chain carriers, axman, and marker, and found a section line which, on following, led through the camp of these men. The Georgians indulged in the utmost freedom of expression. One of them, who appeared to be the leader of the company, said: ‘We’ve come here to stay. We won’t make no war on them as minds their own business; but all the Abolitionists, such as them damned Browns over there, we’re going to whip, drive out, or kill,—any way to get shut of them, by God!’”[102]

Many of the intended victims were openly mentioned, and every word said was calmly written down in John Brown’s surveyor’s book. Soon this information was corroborated by the Southern camp being moved nearer the Brown settlement. Secret marauding and stealing began. Brown warned the intended victims, and, at a night meeting, it seems to have been decided that at the first sign of a move on the part of the “border ruffians” the ringleaders should be seized and lynched. Not only was this the opinion at Osawatomie, but secret councils throughout the state were beginning to lose faith in conciliation and compromise, and to listen to more radical advice. From Lawrence, too, there came encouragement to John Brown to take the lead in this darker forward movement. There was little open talk or explicit declaration, but it was generally understood that the next aggressive move in the Swamp of the Swan meant retaliation and that John Brown would strike the blow.

While, however, the free state leaders were willing to let this radical hater of slavery thus defend the frontiers of their cause, they themselves deemed it wise still to stick to the policy of passive resistance, and their wisdom cost them dear. On the 21st of May the pro-slavery forces swooped on Lawrence, and burned and sacked it, while its citizens stood trembling by and raised no hand in its defense. John Brown knew nothing of this until it was too late to help. Notwithstanding, he hurried to the scene, and sat down by the smoldering ashes in grim anger. He was “indignant that there had been no resistance; that Lawrence was not defended; and denounced the members of the committee and leading free state men as cowards, or worse.” It seemed to Brown nothing less than a crime for men thus to lie down and be kicked by ruffians. “Caution, caution, sir!” he burst out at a discreet old gentleman, “I am eternally tired of hearing that word caution—it is nothing but the word of cowardice.”[103] Yet there seemed nothing to do then, and he was about to break camp when a boy came up riding swiftly. The ruffians at Dutch Henry’s crossing, he said, had been warning the defenseless women in the Brown settlement that the free state families must leave by Saturday or Sunday, else they would be driven out. The Brown women, hastily gathering up their children and valuables, had fled by ox-cart to the house of a kinsman farther away. Two houses and a store in the German settlement had been burned.

John Brown arose. “I will attend to those fellows,” he said grimly. “Something must be done to show these barbarians that we too have rights!”[104] He called four of his sons, Watson, Frederick, Owen and Oliver, his son-in-law, Henry Thompson, and a German, whose home lay in ashes. A neighbor with wagon and horses offered to carry the band, and the cutlasses were carefully sharpened. An uneasy feeling crept through the onlookers. They knew that John Brown was going to strike a blow for freedom in Kansas, but they did not understand just what that blow would be. There were hesitation and whispering, and one at least ventured a mild remonstrance, but Brown shook him off in disgust. As the wagon moved off, a cheer arose from the company left behind.

It was two o’clock on Friday afternoon that the eight men started toward the Swamp of the Swan. Arriving in the neighborhood they spent Saturday in quietly and secretly investigating the situation, and in gathering evidence of the intentions of the “border ruffians.” Although the exact facts have never all been told, it seems clear that a meeting of the intended victims was secured at which John Brown himself presided. Probably it was then decided that the seven ringleaders of the projected deviltry must be killed, and John Brown was appointed to see that the deed was done. The men condemned were among the worst of their kind. One was a liquor dealer in whose disreputable dive the United States court was held. His brother, a giant of six feet four, was a thief and a bully whose pastime was insulting free state women. The third was the postmaster, who managed to avoid direct complicity in the crime, but shared the spoils. Next came the probate judge, who harried the free state men with warrants of all sorts; and lastly, three miserable drunken tools, formerly slave-chasers who had come to Kansas with their bloodhounds and were ready for any kind of evil.

These were not the leaders of the pro-slavery party in Kansas, but rather the dogs which were to worry the free state men to death. The ringleaders sat securely hedged back of United States bayonets and the Missouri militia, but their tools depended for their safety on terrorizing the localities wherein they lived. Here then, said John Brown, was the spot to strike and, once sentence of death had been formally passed, the band hurried to its task. The saloon lay on the creek where the great highway from Leavenworth in the northeastern part of the state crossed on its way to Fort Scott. Around it within an hour’s walk were the cabins of the others. In all cases the proceeding was similar: a silent approach and a quick sharp knocking in the night. The inmates leapt startled from their beds, for midnight rappings were ominous there. They hesitated to open the door, but the demand was peremptory and the door was frail. Then the dark room was filled with shadowy figures, the man dressed quickly, the woman whimpered and listened, but the footsteps died away and all was still. Three homes were visited thus; two of the number could not be found, but five men went out into the darkness with their captors and never returned. They were led quickly into the woods and surrounded. John Brown raised his hand and at the signal the victims were hacked to death with broadswords.

The deed inflamed Kansas. The timid rushed to disavow the deed. The free state people were silent and the pro-slavery party was roused to fury. Even the silent co-conspirators of Pottawatomie rushed to pledge themselves “individually and collectively, to prevent a recurrence of a similar tragedy, and to ferret out and hand over to the criminal authorities the perpetrators for punishment.” But they took no steps to lay hands on John Brown and as he said, their cowardice did not protect them. Four times in four years the wrath of the avengers flamed in the Swamp of the Swan, and swept the land in fire and blood, and the last red breath of the expiring war in Kansas glowed in these dark ravines.

To this day men differ as to the effect of John Brown’s blow. Some say it freed Kansas, while others say it plunged the land back into civil war. Truth lies in both statements. The blow freed Kansas by plunging it into civil war, and compelling men to fight for freedom which they had vainly hoped to gain by political diplomacy. At first it was hard to see this, and even those sons of John Brown whom he had not taken with him, recoiled at the news. One son says: “On the afternoon of Monday, May 26th, a man came to us at Liberty Hill, ... his horse reeking with sweat, and said, ‘five men have been killed on the Pottawatomie, horribly cut and mangled; and they say old John Brown did it.’ Hearing this, I was afraid it was true, and it was the most terrible shock that ever happened to my feelings in my life; but brother John took a different view. The next day as we were on the east side of Middle Creek, I asked father, ‘Did you have any hand in the killing?’ He said, ‘I did not, but I stood by and saw it.’ I did not ask further for fear I should hear something I did not wish to hear. Frederick said, ‘I could not feel as if it was right;’ but another of the party said it was justifiable as a means of self-defense and the defense of others. What I said against it seemed to hurt father very much; but all he said was, ‘God is my judge,—we were justified under the circumstances.’”[105]

This was as much as John Brown usually said of the matter, although in later years a friend relates: “I finally said, ‘Captain Brown, I want to ask you one question, and you can answer it or not as you please, and I shall not be offended.’ He stopped his pacing, looked me square in the face, and said, ‘What is it?’ Said I, ‘Captain Brown, did you kill those five men on the Pottawatomie, or did you not?’ He replied, ‘I did not; but I do not pretend to say that they were not killed by my order; and in doing so I believe I was doing God’s service.’ My wife spoke and said, ‘Then, captain, you think that God uses you as an instrument in His hands to kill men?’ Brown replied, ‘I think He has used me as an instrument to kill men; and if I live, I think He will use me as an instrument to kill a good many more!’”[106]

No sooner was the deed known than John Brown became a hunted outlaw. Two of his sons who had not been with him at the murders were arrested on Lecompte’s “constructive treason” warrants because they had affiliated with the free state movement. Horror at his father’s deed and the cruelty of his captors drove the eldest son temporarily insane, while the life of the other was saved only by a scrap of paper which said, “I am aware that you hold my two sons, John and Jason, prisoners—John Brown.”[107] The old man never wavered. He wrote home: “Jason started to go and place himself under the protection of the government troops; but on his way he was taken prisoner by the bogus men, and is yet a prisoner, I suppose. John tried to hide for several days; but from feelings of the ungrateful conduct of those who ought to have stood by him, excessive fatigue, anxiety, and constant loss of sleep, he became quite insane, and in that situation gave up, or, as we are told, was betrayed at Osawatomie into the hands of the bogus men. We do not know all the truth about this affair. He has since, we are told, been kept in irons, and brought to a trial before bogus court, the result of which we have not yet learned. We have great anxiety both for him and Jason, and numerous other prisoners with the enemy (who have all the while had the government troops to sustain them). We can only commend them to God.”[108]

Withdrawing to the forests, John Brown now began to organize his followers. Thirty-five of them adopted this covenant in the summer of 1856:

“We whose names are found on these and the next following pages, do hereby enlist ourselves to serve in the free state cause under John Brown as commander, during the full period of time affixed to our names respectively and we severally pledge our word and our sacred honor to said commander, and to each other, that during the time for which we have enlisted, we will faithfully and punctually perform our duty (in such capacity or place as may be assigned to us by a majority of all the votes of those associated with us, or of the companies to which we may belong as the case may be) as a regular volunteer force for the maintenance of the rights and liberties of the free state citizens of Kansas: and we further agree; that as individuals we will conform to the by-laws of this organization and that we will insist on their regular and punctual enforcement as a first and a last duty: and, in short, that we will observe and maintain a strict and thorough military discipline at all times until our term of service expires.”[109]

A score of by-laws were added, providing for electing officers, trial by jury, disposal of captured property, etc. Then follow these articles:

“Art. XIV. All uncivil, ungentlemanly, profane, vulgar talk or conversation shall be discountenanced.

“Art. XV. All acts of petty theft, needless waste of property of the members or of citizens are hereby declared disorderly; together with all uncivil, or unkind treatment of citizens or of prisoners.

“Art. XX. No person after having first surrendered himself a prisoner shall be put to death, or subjected to corporeal punishment, without first having had the benefit of an impartial trial.

“Art. XXI. The ordinary use or introduction into the camp of any intoxicating liquor, as a beverage, is hereby declared disorderly.”[110]

Nor was this ideal of discipline merely on paper. The reporter of the New York _Tribune_ stumbled on the camp which the authorities did not dare to find:

“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. One of them was the youngest son of old Brown, and the other was ‘Charley,’ the brave Hungarian, who was subsequently murdered at Osawatomie. 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. But it was a moment only; for the captain ordered them to renew their work. He respectfully but firmly forbade conversation on the Pottawatomie affair; and said that, if I desired any information from the company in relation to their conduct or intentions, he, as their captain, would answer for them whatever it was proper to communicate.

“In this camp no manner of profane language was permitted; no man of immoral character was allowed to stay, excepting as a prisoner of war. He made prayers in which all the company united, every morning and evening; and no food was ever tasted by his men until the divine blessing had been asked on it. After every meal, thanks were returned to the Bountiful Giver. Often, I was told, the old man would retire to the densest solitudes, to wrestle with his God in secret prayer. One of his company subsequently informed me that, after these retirings, he would say that the Lord had directed him in visions what to do; that for himself he did not love warfare, but peace,—only acting in obedience to the will of the Lord, and fighting God’s battles for His children’s sake.

“It was at this time that the old man said to me: ‘I would rather have the smallpox, yellow fever, and cholera all together in my camp, than a man without principles. It’s a mistake, sir,’ he continued, ‘that our people make, when they think that bullies are the best fighters, or that they are the men fit to oppose those Southerners. Give me men of good principles; God-fearing men; men who respect themselves; and, with a dozen of them, I will oppose any hundred such men as these Buford ruffians.’

“I remained in the camp about an hour. Never before had I met such a band of men. They were not earnest but earnestness incarnate.”[111]

A member of the band says:

“We stayed here up to the morning of Sunday, the first of June, and during these few days I fully succeeded in understanding the exalted character of my old friend. He exhibited at all times the most affectionate care for each of us. He also attended to cooking. We had two meals daily, consisting of bread made of flour, baked in skillets; this was washed down with creek water, mixed with a little ginger and a spoon of molasses to each pint. Nevertheless we kept in excellent spirits; we considered ourselves as one family, allied to one another by the consciousness that it was our duty to undergo all these privations to further the good cause; had determined to share any danger with one another, that victory or death might find us together. We were united as a band of brothers by the love and affection toward the man who with tender words and wise counsel, in the depth of the wilderness of Ottawa Creek, prepared a handful of young men for the work of laying the foundation of a free commonwealth. His words have ever remained firmly engraved in my mind. Many and various were the instructions he gave during the days of our compulsory leisure in this camp. He expressed himself to us that we should never allow ourselves to be tempted by any consideration to acknowledge laws and institutions to exist as of right, if our conscience and reason condemned them. He admonished us not to care whether a majority, no matter how large, opposed our principles and opinions. The largest majorities were sometimes only organized mobs, whose howlings never changed black into white, or night into day. A minority conscious of its rights, based on moral principles, would, under a republican government, sooner or later become the majority. Regarding the curse and crimes of the institution of slavery, he declared that the outrages committed in Kansas to further its extension had directed the attention of all intelligent citizens of the United States and of the world to the necessity of its abolishment, as a stumbling-block in the path of nineteenth century civilization; that while it was true that the pro-slavery people and their aiders and abettors had the upper hand at present, and the free state organization dwindled to a handful hid in the brush, nevertheless, we ought to be of good cheer, and start the ball to rolling at the first opportunity, no matter whether its starting motion would even crush us to death. We were under a protection of a wise Providence, which might use our feeble efforts.

“Occasionally Captain Brown also gave us directions for our conduct during a fight, for attack and retreat. Time and again he entreated us never to follow the example of the border ruffians, who took a delight in destruction; never to burn houses or fences, so often done by the enemy. Free state people could use them to advantage. Repeatedly he admonished us not to take human life except when absolutely necessary. Plunder taken from the enemy should be common property, to be used for continuance of the struggle; horses to go to recruits, cattle and provision to poor free state people.”[112]

To this band of men the surrounding country, which was already feeling the first retaliatory blows of the pro-slavery party, now looked for aid, and Brown stood ever ready. His men, however, could form but the nucleus of a spirited defense and for a time the settlers hesitated to join the band until Brown threatened to withdraw. “Why did you send Carpenter after us? I am not willing to sacrifice my men without having some hope of accomplishing something,”[113] he demanded of a hesitating emissary, and turning to his men he said: “If the cowardice and indifference of the free state people compel us to leave Kansas, what do you say, men, if we start south, for instance to Louisiana, and get up a Negro insurrection, and thereby compel them to let go their grip on Kansas, and so bring relief to our friends here?” Frederick Brown jumped up and said: “I am ready.”[114]

The petty outrages of the Georgia guerrillas now so increased in boldness and in frequency that a company was hastily formed which called Brown’s men to the defense of a neighboring village. “We will be with you,” cried Brown, and thus he told the story of what followed to the folks at home:

“The cowardly mean conduct of Osawatomie and vicinity did not save them; for the ruffians came on them, made numerous prisoners, fired their buildings, and robbed them. After this a picked party of the bogus men went to Brown’s Station, burned John’s and Jason’s houses, and their contents to ashes; in which burning we have all suffered more or less. Orson and boy have been prisoners, but we soon set them at liberty. They are well, and have not been seriously injured. Owen and I have just come here for the first time to look at the ruins. All looks desolate and forsaken,—the grass and weeds fast covering up the signs that these places were lately the abodes of quiet families. After burning the houses, this self-same party of picked men, some forty in number, set out as they supposed, and as was the fact, on the track of my little company, boasting with awful profanity, that they would have our scalps. They, however, passed the place where we hid, and robbed a little town some four or five miles beyond our camp in the timber. I had omitted to say that some murders had been committed at the time Lawrence was sacked.

“On learning that this party was in pursuit of us, my little company, now increased to ten in all, started after them in company of a Captain Shore, with eighteen men, he included (June 1st). We were all mounted as we traveled. We did not meet them on that day, but took five prisoners, four of whom were of their scouts, and well armed. We were out all night, but could find nothing of them until about six o’clock next morning, when we prepared to attack them at once, on foot, leaving Frederick and one of Captain Shore’s men to guard the horses. As I was much older than Captain Shore, the principal direction of the fight devolved on me. We got to within about a mile of their camp before being discovered by their scouts, and then moved at a brisk pace, Captain Shore and men forming our left, and my company the right. When within about sixty rods of the enemy, Captain Shore’s men halted by mistake in a very exposed situation, and continued the fire, both his men and the enemy being armed with Sharps rifles. My company had no long shooters. We (my company) did not fire a gun until we gained the rear of a bank, about fifteen or twenty rods to the right of the enemy, where we commenced, and soon compelled them to hide in a ravine. Captain Shore, after getting one man wounded, and exhausting his ammunition, came with part of his men to the right of my position, much discouraged. The balance of his men, including the one wounded, had left the ground. Five of Captain Shore’s men came boldly down and joined my company, and all but one man, wounded, helped to maintain the fight until it was over. I was obliged to give my consent that he should go after more help, when all his men left but eight, four of whom I persuaded to remain in a secure position, and there busied them in the horses and mules of the enemy, which served for a show of fight. After the firing had continued for some two to three hours, Captain Pate with twenty-three men, two badly wounded, laid down their arms to nine men, myself included,—four of Captain Shore’s men and four of my own. One of my men (Henry Thompson) was badly wounded, and after continuing his fire for an hour longer, was obliged to quit the ground. Three others of my company (but not of my family) had gone off. Salmon was dreadfully wounded by accident, soon after the fight; but both he and Henry are fast recovering.

“A day or two after the fight, Colonel Sumner of the United States army came suddenly upon us, while fortifying our camp and guarding our prisoners (which, by the way, it had been agreed mutually should be exchanged for as many free state men, John and Jason included), and compelled us to let go our prisoners without being exchanged, and to give up their horses and arms. They did not go more than two or three miles before they began to rob and injure free state people. We consider this in good keeping with the cruel and unjust course of the administration and its tools throughout this whole Kansas difficulty. Colonel Sumner also compelled us to disband; and we, being only a handful, were obliged to submit.

“Since then we have, like David of old, had our dwellings with the serpents of the rocks and wild beasts of the wilderness, being obliged to hide away from our enemies. We are not disheartened, though nearly destitute of food, clothing, and money. God, who has not given us over to the will of our enemies, but has moreover delivered them into our hand, will, we humbly trust, still keep and deliver us. We feel assured that He who sees not as men see, does not lay the guilt of innocent blood to our charge.”[115]

It was John Brown’s hope that the courage engendered by the striking success of the fight at Black Jack, would spread the spirit of resistance to the whole free state party. Lawrence, then the capital, was still surrounded by a chain of forts held by bands of pro-slavery marauders: one at Franklin just east of the city; another just south and known as Fort Saunders; and a third between Lawrence and the pro-slavery capital, Lecompton, known as Fort Titus. When it was rumored that the United States troops would disperse the free state legislature about to meet at Topeka, John Brown hurried thither, hoping that resistance would begin here and sweep the Territory. One of the free state leaders met him at Lawrence and journeyed with him toward Topeka. Brown and he took the main road as far as Big Springs, he says, and continues:

“There we left the road, going in a southwesterly direction for a mile, when we halted on a hill, and the horses were stripped of their saddles, and picketed out to graze. The grass was wet with dew. The men ate of what provision they had with them, and I received a portion from the captain,—dry beef (which was not so bad), and bread made from corn bruised between stones, then rolled in balls and cooked in the ashes of the camp-fire. Captain Brown observed that I nibbled it very gingerly, and said, ‘I am afraid you will be hardly able to eat a soldier’s harsh fare.’

“We next placed our two saddles together, so that our heads lay only a few feet apart. Brown spread his blanket on the wet grass, and when we lay together upon it, mine was spread over us. It was past eleven o’clock, and we lay there until two in the morning, but we slept none. He seemed to be as little disposed to sleep as I was, and we talked; or rather he did, for I said little. I found that he was a thorough astronomer; he pointed out the different constellations and their movements. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘it is midnight,’ as he pointed to the finger-marks of his great clock in the sky. The whispering of the wind on the prairie was full of voices to him, and the stars as they shone in the firmament of God seemed to inspire him. ‘How admirable is the symmetry of the heaven; how grand and beautiful! Everything moves in sublime harmony in the government of God. Not so with us poor creatures. If one star is more brilliant than others, it is continually shooting in some erratic way into space.’

“He criticized both parties in Kansas. Of the pro-slavery men he said that slavery besotted everything, and made men more brutal and coarse—nor did the free state men escape his sharp censure. He said that we had many noble and true men, but too many broken-down politicians from the older states, who would rather pass resolutions than act, and who criticized all who did real work. A professional politician, he went on, you never could trust; for even if he had convictions, he was always ready to sacrifice his principles for his advantage. One of the most interesting things in his conversation that night, and one that marked him as a theorist, was his treatment of our forms of social and political life. He thought that society ought to be organized on a less selfish basis; for while material interests gained something by the deification of pure selfishness, men and women lost much by it. He said that all great reforms, like the Christian religion, were based on broad, generous, self-sacrificing principles. He condemned the sale of land as a chattel, and thought that there was an indefinite number of wrongs to right before society would be what it should be, but that in our country slavery was the ‘sum of all villanies,’ and its abolition the first essential work. If the American people did not take courage and end it speedily, human freedom and republican liberty would soon be empty names in these United States.”

Early next morning the party pressed on until they came in sight of the town. Brown would not enter but sent a messenger ahead, and the narrator continues:

“As he wrung my hand at parting, he urged that we should have the legislature meet, resist all who should interfere with it, and fight, if necessary, even the United States troops. He had told me the night before of his visit to many of the fortifications in Europe, and criticized them sharply, holding that modern warfare did away with them, and that a well-armed brave soldier was the best fortification. He criticized all the arms then in use, and showed me a fine repeating-rifle which he said would carry eight hundred yards; but he added, ‘The way to fight is to press to close quarters.’”[116]

The Topeka journey was in vain. The legislature quietly dispersed at the command of Colonel Sumner, and John Brown saw that his only hope of stirring up effective resistance lay in Lane’s “army” of immigrants, then approaching the northern boundaries of Kansas, with whom was his son-in-law’s brother. Taking, therefore, his wounded son-in-law and leaving his band, he pressed forward alone on a dangerous and wearisome way of one hundred and fifty miles through the enemy’s country. Hinton saw him as he rode into one of the camps and says:

“‘Have you a man in your camp named William Thompson? You are from Massachusetts, young man, I believe, and Mr. Thompson joined you at Buffalo.’ These words were addressed to me by an elderly man, riding a worn-looking, gaunt gray horse. It was on a late July day, and in its hottest hours. I had been idly watching a wagon and one horse, toiling slowly northward across the prairie, along the emigrant trail that had been marked out by free state men under command of ‘Sam’ Walker and Aaron D. Stevens, who was then known as ‘Colonel Whipple.’ John Brown, whose name the young and ardent had begun to conjure with and swear by, had been described to me. So, as I heard the question, I looked up and met the full, strong gaze of a pair of luminous, questioning eyes. Somehow I instinctively knew this was John Brown, and with that name I replied, saying that Thompson was in our company. It was a long, rugged-featured face I saw. A tall, sinewy figure, too (he had dismounted), five feet eleven, I estimated, with square shoulders, narrow flank, sinewy and deep-chested. A frame full of nervous power, but not impressing one especially with muscular vigor. The impression left by the pose and the figure was that of reserve, endurance, and quiet strength. The questioning voice-tones were mellow, magnetic, and grave. On the weather-worn face was a stubby, short, gray beard, evidently of recent growth.... This figure,—unarmed, poorly clad, with coarse linen trousers tucked into high, heavy cowhide boots, with heavy spurs on their heels, a cotton shirt opened at the throat, a long torn linen duster, and a bewrayed chip straw hat he held in his hand as he waited for Thompson to reach us, made up the outward garb and appearance of John Brown when I first met him. In ten minutes his mounted figure disappeared over the north horizon.”[117]

Pushing on northward, Brown found asylum for his wounded follower at Tabor, Ia. Returning, he joined the main body of Lane’s men at Nebraska City. Here again arose divided counsels. Radical leaders like Lane and Brown were proscribed men, and United States troops stood on the borders of Iowa to prevent the entrance of armed bodies. It was decided, therefore, that Lane must not enter with the immigrants, and a letter to this effect was brought to him by Samuel Walker, a free state leader. Walker says:

“After reading it he sat for a long time with his head bowed and the tears running down his cheeks. Finally he looked up and said: ‘Walker, if you say the people of Kansas don’t want me, it’s all right, and I’ll blow my brains out. I can never go back to the states, and look the people in the face, and tell them that as soon as I got these Kansas friends of mine fairly into danger I had to abandon them. I can’t do it. No matter what I say in my own defense, no one will believe it. I’ll blow my brains out and end the thing right here.’ ‘General,’ said I, ‘the people of Kansas would rather have you than all the party at Nebraska City. I have got fifteen good boys that are my own. If you will put yourself under my orders I’ll take you through all right.’”[118]

Thus Walker, Lane, and John Brown with a party of thirty stole into Kansas and started anew the flame of civil war.

Brown’s old company, organized early in 1858, was mounted and brought to the front, and a systematic effort was made by Lane to free Lawrence from its beleaguering forts. The first attack was directed against Franklin on the night of August 12th, and as ex-Senator Atchison of Missouri indignantly reported: “Three hundred Abolitionists, under this same Brown, attacked the town of Franklin, robbed, plundered and burned, took all the arms in town, broke open and destroyed the post-office, captured the old cannon ‘Sacramento,’ which our gallant Missourians captured in Mexico, and are now turning its mouth against our friends.”[119] Two days later the little army turned southward to Fort Saunders. Lane deployed his forces before it with John Brown’s cavalry on his right wing. A charge was ordered and the garrison fled to the woods, leaving an untasted dinner and large stores of goods. On August 16th, Fort Titus on the road to Lecompton was besieged with cannon, and finally fired by a load of hay; Colonel Titus, a Georgian, was captured and John Brown and other leaders wanted to hang him, for he was one of the most brutal of the border-ruffian commanders. Sam Walker, however, saved his neck.

So furious had been this short campaign that the pro-slavery party sued for a truce. Walker tells how “on the following day Governor Shannon and Major Sedgwick came to Lawrence to negotiate an exchange of prisoners. They held about thirty of our men and we forty of theirs. It was agreed to ‘swap even,’ we surrendering all their men, including Titus; they to hand over all our men and cannon they had captured at the sacking of Lawrence. I insisted very strongly on this last point of the contract, for when the gun was taken I swore I would have it back within six months. I had the pleasure of escorting our prisoners to Sedgwick’s camp, and receiving the cannon and the prisoners held by the enemy there, in exchange.”[120]

The whirlwind of guerrilla warfare now swept back to the dark ravines of the Swamp of the Swan. After the murders of May came the first counter attack of early June, culminating in the battle of Black Jack. This check quelled the pro-slavery party a while and they began manning the forts around Lawrence. On August 5th the free state men struck a retaliating blow while John Brown was absent in Nebraska, although he was credited with being present by the Missouri newspapers. Similar skirmishes followed, and the advantage was now so completely with the free state forces, that a final crushing blow was planned by the slave party of Missouri. Manifestoes swept the state, and “No quarter” was the motto. The Missourians responded with alacrity and a great mass crossed the border divided into two wings. The lesser attacked Osawatomie and a newspaper in Missouri said:

“The attack on Osawatomie was by part of an army of eleven hundred and fifty men, of whom Atchison was major-general. General Reid with two hundred and fifty men and one piece of artillery, moved on to attack Osawatomie; he arrived near that place and was attacked by two hundred Abolitionists under the command of the notorious John Brown, who commenced firing upon Reid from a thick chaparral four hundred yards off. General Reid made a successful charge, killing thirty-one, and taking seven prisoners. Among the killed was Frederick Brown. The notorious John Brown was also killed, by a pro-slavery man named White, in attempting to cross the Marais des Cygnes. The pro-slavery party have five wounded. On the same day Captain Hays, with forty men, attacked the house of the notorious Ottawa Jones, burned it, and killed two Abolitionists. Jones fled to the cornfield, was shot by Hays, and is believed to be dead.”[121]

But John Brown was not dead and was ever after known as “Osawatomie” Brown. He wrote home September 7th saying:

“I have one moment to write to you, to say that I am yet alive, that Jason and family were well yesterday; John and family, I hear, are well (he being yet a prisoner). On the morning of the 30th of August an attack was made by the ruffians on Osawatomie, numbering some four hundred, by whose scouts our dear Frederick was shot dead without warning,—he supposing them to be free state men, as near as we can learn. One other man, a cousin of Mr. Adair, was murdered by them about the same time that Frederick was killed, and one badly wounded at the same time. At this time I was about three miles off, where I had some fourteen or fifteen men over night that I had just enlisted to serve under me as regulars. These I collected as well as I could, with some twelve or fifteen more; and in about three-quarters of an hour I attacked them from a wood with thick undergrowth. With this force we threw them into confusion for about fifteen or twenty minutes, during which time we killed or wounded from seventy to eighty of the enemy,—as they say,—and then we escaped as well as we could, with one killed while escaping, two or three wounded, and as many more missing. Four or five free state men were butchered during the day in all. Jason fought bravely by my side during the fight, and escaped with me, he being unhurt. I was struck by a partly-spent grape, canister, or rifle shot, which bruised me some, but did not injure me seriously. Hitherto the Lord has helped me.”[122]

A cheer went up from all free Kansas over this vigorous defense, and for once there was unanimity among the leaders of the free state cause. Robinson, the wariest of them, wrote: “I cheerfully accord to you my heartfelt thanks for your prompt, efficient, and timely action against the invaders of our rights and the murderers of our citizens. History will give your name a proud place on her pages, and posterity will pay homage to your heroism in the cause of God and humanity.”[123]

Meantime the Missourians, after their hard-won victory, hastened back to join the larger wing of the invaders, and so disconcerting was their report, that when Lane made a feint against them, they started to retreat. Governor Woodson’s call for the “territorial militia,” however, heartened them and gave them legal standing. By September 15th they were threatening Kansas again with nearly 3,000 men. The nation, however, was now aroused and the new governor, Geary, with orders to make peace at all costs, was hurrying forward. Among the first whom he summoned to secret conference was John Brown. Brown came to Lawrence and was leaving, satisfied with Geary’s promises, when the invading army of Missourians suddenly appeared before the city. He immediately returned to the town, where there were only 200 fighting men. He was asked to take command of the defense but declined, preferring to act with his usual independence. About five o’clock Monday, the 15th, he mounted a dry-goods box on Main Street opposite the post-office and spoke to the people: