On the
eve of John Brown's hanging not half a dozen men in the city of
Concord, the most intellectual town in New England, the home of
Emerson, and Hawthorne, and Alcott, dared say that they felt any
respect for the man or sympathy for the cause for which he died.
I wish to quote a few passages from this "Plea for Captain John Brown."
To fully realize its power, you should read it all for yourselves. You
must put yourselves back into history, now already seeming almost
ancient history to us, to the period when Buchanan was President--the
terrible sultry lull just before the great storm. You must picture the
audience of the best people in Massachusetts, half-sympathizing with
Captain Brown, half-afraid of being guilty of treason in so doing. You
must picture the speaker, with his clear-cut, earnest features and
penetrating voice. No preacher, no politician, no professional
reformer, no Republican, no Democrat; a man who never voted; a
naturalist whose companions were the flowers and the birds, the trees
and the squirrels. It was the voice of Nature in protest against
slavery and in plea for Captain Brown.
"My respect for my fellow-men," said Thoreau, "is not being increased
these days.
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