Chapter XXII: Appendix: II

RECOLLECTIONS OF THE JOHN BROWN RAID BY THE HON. ALEXANDER R. BOTELER, A VIRGINIAN WHO WITNESSED THE FIGHT

_Taken from The Century_

On entering the room where John Brown was, I found him alone, lying on the floor on his left side, and with his back turned toward me. The right side of his face was smeared with blood from a sword cut on his head, causing his grim and grizzled countenance to look like that of some aboriginal savage with his war-paint on. Approaching him I began the conversation with the inquiry:

"Captain Brown, are you hurt anywhere except on the head?"

"Yes, in my side, here," said he, indicating the place with his hand.

I then told him that a surgeon would be in presently to attend to his wounds, and expressed the hope that they were not very serious. Thereupon he asked me who I was, and on giving him my name he muttered as if speaking to himself.

"Yes, yes--I know you now--member of congress--this district."

I then asked the question:

"Captain, what brought you here?"

"To free your slaves," was the reply.

"How did you expect to accomplish it with the small force you brought with you?"

"I expected help."

"Where, whence, and from whom, Captain, did you expect it?"

"Here and from elsewhere," he answered.

"Did you expect to get assistance from whites here as well as from the blacks?" was my next question.

"I did," he replied.

"Then," said I, "you have been disappointed in not getting it from either?"

"Yes," he muttered, "I have--been--disappointed."

Then I asked him who planned his movement on Harper's Ferry, to which he replied: "I planned it all myself," and upon my remarking that it was a sad affair for him and the country, and that I trusted no one would follow his example by undertaking a similar raid, he made no response. I next inquired if he had any family besides the sons who accompanied him on his incursion, to which he replied by telling me he had a wife and children in the State of New York at North Elba, and on my then asking if he would like to write to them and let them know how he was, he quickly responded:

"Yes, I would like to send them a letter."

"Very well," I said, "you doubtless will be permitted to do so. But, Captain," I added, "probably you understand that, being in the hands of the civil authorities of the State, your letters will have to be seen by them before they can be sent."

"Certainly," he said.

"Then, with that understanding," continued I. "There will, I am sure, be no objection to your writing home; and although I have no authority in the premises, I promise to do what I can to have your wishes in that respect complied with."

"Thank you--thank you, sir," he said repeating his acknowledgment for the proffered favor and, for the first time, turning his head toward me.

In my desire to hear him distinctly, I had placed myself by his side, with one knee resting on the floor; so that, when he turned, it brought his face quite close to mine, and I remember well the earnest gaze of the gray eye that looked straight into mine. I then remarked:

"Captain, we, too, have wives and children. This attempt of yours to interfere with our slaves has created great excitement and naturally causes anxiety on account of our families. Now, let me ask you: Is this failure of yours likely to be followed by similar attempts to create disaffection among our servants and bring upon our homes the horrors of a servile war?"

"Time will show," was his significant reply.

Just then a Catholic priest appeared at the door of the room. He had been administering the last consolations of religion to Quinn, the marine, who was dying in the adjoining office; and the moment Brown saw him he became violently angry, and plainly showed, by the expression of his countenance, how capable he was of feeling "hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness."

"Go out of here--I don't want you about me--go out!" was the salutation he gave the priest, who, bowing gravely, immediately retired. Whereupon I arose from the floor, and bidding Brown good-morning, likewise left him.

In the entry leading to the room where Brown was, I met Major Russell, of the marine corps, who was going to see him, and I detailed to him the conversation I had just had. Meeting the major subsequently he told me that when he entered the apartment Brown was standing up--with his clothes unfastened--examining the wound in his side, and that, as soon as he saw him, forthwith resumed his former position on the floor; which incident tended to confirm the impression I had already formed, that there was a good deal of vitality left in the old man, notwithstanding his wounds--a fact more fully developed that evening after I had left Harper's Ferry for home, when he had his spirited and historic talk with Wise, Hunter and Vallandigham.