The Insurrectionist Read online

  Finally, in August 1857—aboard a horse-drawn wagon—Brown and Owen rolled into Tabor, the abolitionist community in the southwestern corner of Iowa where the old man and his boys had sought refuge in the past. There were citizens in Tabor willing to aid Free State fighters. It was a good place for him to set up his base of operations before reentering the territory.

  His first task upon arriving was to take an inventory of weapons. Aside from his own personal cache of arms, the two hundred Sharps carbines from the Massachusetts State Kansas Committee remained in storage in the home of a local minister. The two hundred .31 caliber Maynard revolvers purchased by George Stearns were still in eastern Iowa, where they would remain until Brown claimed them. And the pikes ordered from Connecticut forge-master Charles Blair were put on hold; the old man had no way of paying the balance he owed on them.

  Though Brown found the carbines fouled with grease, they weren’t his main concern. A rift had developed between him and Hugh Forbes, the one-hundred-dollar-a-month drill officer, who showed up in Tabor just two days after the old man’s arrival. There was no one—other than Owen—for Forbes to train. Brown had failed to recruit a single soldier.

  Forbes said he’d been misled, but Brown blamed the situation on the two-month delay caused by his illness, something Forbes would have known about if he’d answered the old man’s letters. The failure of Forbes to reply had vexed Brown, especially since he’d sent his drill officer six months’ salary in advance.

  While Forbes waited for recruits to materialize, the old man cleaned weapons. He now believed the possibility of renewed hostilities in Kansas was slipping away, and his thoughts had shifted to a plan for invading the South.

  When he tried to discuss his plan with Forbes—who insisted on being addressed as “Colonel”—he was met with resistance. The two argued incessantly, first about how to wage war against slaveholders, then about how Forbes might benefit from the generosity of Brown’s benefactors, men the colonel referred to sarcastically as “the humanitarians.”

  “Forbes has become a burden to me,” Brown complained to Owen. “I grow weary of the bickering.”

  An issue dividing the two men was the role to be played by slaves in the invasion Brown was planning, an invasion that would require liberated slaves to join the old man’s army.

  “Whether he is free or slave,” Brown asserted, “the black man must fight for his freedom. He must join in the war on slavery—or the nation will never respect him.”

  Forbes argued, “It’s foolish to think that men ignorant of the use of arms or the conditions of battle could contribute effectively to a war against their oppressors.”

  Brown countered, “Nat Turner and fifty men held Virginia for five weeks.”

  Forbes again: “A slave who is not given advance warning of an uprising or who isn’t already in state of agitation will answer your call reluctantly or not at all.”

  Forbes continued to find fault with Brown’s ideas. And he was obsessed with money. He had needs Brown hadn’t been aware of, claiming to have a wife and children living abroad in poverty. If he didn’t send them a decent allotment very soon their survival was in doubt. “I must take care of my family, Captain. Surely the humanitarians will understand.”

  Even though Brown’s personal bank account had dwindled, he might have been more sympathetic to Forbes had their relationship not begun to unravel. The old man even had come to believe the colonel wanted to assume a more prominent role in the plan for invading the South. Could it be, Brown grumbled to Owen, that Forbes saw himself as the leader of such an invasion?

  For the moment Brown was confined to Tabor, unsure of his next move, annoyed by his carping drill officer, depressed by the state of affairs in Kansas, and anxious about the depletion of his money.

  Then came the news that the Kansas territorial election had resulted in a Free State victory. Thirty-three of the fifty-two seats in the legislature were won by Free State candidates, and a Free State man was elected to represent the territory in the US Congress. There was no doubt peace was coming—sooner rather than later. Brown resigned himself to the fact he was no longer needed in Kansas. He could set his sights exclusively on taking his war on slavery elsewhere. He’d been thinking about the Allegheny Mountains of northern Virginia.

  First, though, he was obligated to keep his promise to return to Kansas—maybe not to fight but rather to find men who were willing to join him in striking a blow on Southern soil. He sent a note to John Cook, the young man with long blond locks who already had demonstrated his ability to rally volunteers to Brown’s cause. Brown wrote that he was in Iowa but hoped to get to Lawrence very soon and wanted Cook to arrange a meeting. “Be sure to invite all who wish to continue the fight against slavery,” the old man wrote. “Tell them to bring their arms and ammunition.”

  Before leaving for Kansas, Brown penned a letter to his Massachusetts supporters indicating he was “in immediate need of from five hundred to one thousand dollars for secret service and no questions asked.”

  Somehow he’d find the soldiers and money to begin a campaign in the Southern states. “God will not let me fail,” he told Owen.

  Shortly thereafter, Brown’s faith was rewarded. He received $250—part of it from George Stearns, the rest from Kansas militants who coveted the old man’s Sharps carbines. He wasted no time purchasing a fresh team of horses for the wagon trip to Lawrence.

  While Owen guided the team along the road from Tabor to Nebraska City—the first leg of the journey—Forbes, who insisted on coming along, voiced his grievances. Brown had deceived him, he said. He’d been promised employment for a full year. Nonsense, Brown replied; Forbes had been hired on a monthly basis with only the first six months guaranteed.

  The colonel continued his rant. What about the humanitarians—the Massachusetts men who cherished freedom and were committed to the abolition of slavery? Why hadn’t they delivered on their promises? How was it possible, Forbes groaned, that he—who fought alongside and gained the respect of the great Italian revolutionary Giuseppe Garibaldi—was reduced to begging? How was he to care for his wife and children?

  Brown endured Forbes’s harangues during the twenty-mile trip to Nebraska City. He decided the colonel had become a liability. Perhaps Forbes should return to New York City, where the prospects for earning money were better. Brown opened his carpetbag, took out some cash, and handed it to the colonel. Then he reached into his coat pocket and withdrew an envelope.

  “I have written a letter of introduction to my good friend Frederick Douglass. You may wish to avail yourself of his hospitality.” Brown paused before adding, “I expect to be mustering my new recruits in Ohio. Perhaps you will be able to join us there.”

  Forbes took the money and envelope without uttering a word. Maybe he was thinking about the long stagecoach ride to Iowa City, the nearest railhead for trains bound for the East. Or maybe he viewed Brown’s talk of mustering new recruits as wishful thinking.

  Owen gave the reins a shake, and he and the old man continued on to Kansas. They hadn’t traveled far when Owen said, “I fear we’ve not heard the last of Colonel Forbes.”

  When he arrived in Lawrence, Brown received another windfall. Stearns had once more honored his request. An agent of the Massachusetts State Kansas Committee presented the old man with a bank draft in the amount of $500.

  Now Brown had the means to vigorously pursue recruits. With Cook’s help, he started enlisting volunteers, among them two men who would become part of his inner circle: Aaron “Colonel Whipple” Stevens and John Henry Kagi, a bright, self-educated journalist and lawyer who once taught school in Virginia and served in Stevens’s Second Kansas Militia.

  Brown told his new volunteers to meet him in Tabor, where he’d reveal his plans and unveil a store of weapons and supplies.

  Nine men were waiting when he and Owen returned to the Iowa village. Those present soon learned the old man had no intention of resuming activities in Kansas, a disappointmen
t to Cook, who was anticipating more raiding of proslavery settlements.

  But Brown had a different agenda. He said he planned to launch an invasion into the South by the coming spring and that he wanted to set up a “military school” to sharpen fighting skills and instill discipline in the soldiers he hoped to recruit. Though he hadn’t decided on an exact location for the school, he was certain the Lord would provide the necessary guidance. The confidence the old man exuded—coupled with the cessation of hostilities in Kansas and the two hundred Sharps carbines he laid out for inspection—erased any doubts the men may have had.

  It was a cold and blustery morning in early December 1857 when Brown and his company of nine volunteers left Tabor. They marched behind two covered wagons, each drawn by a two-horse team. The wagons were filled with crates of Sharps carbines, cooking gear, blankets, tents, and provisions. An icy wind gnawed at toes and fingers, and in the evenings the men huddled around a cooking fire while Stevens—in his baritone voice—led them in the singing of Brown’s favorite hymns. The misery induced by the harsh weather drew the men closer together.

  As they approached the eastern border of Iowa on the last day of December—having marched almost three hundred miles—Brown decided they had gone far enough. In the village of Springdale, populated largely by Quakers, he found someone willing to house and feed the men through the winter—in exchange for his two teams of horses and the wagons. After the supplies and weapons were unloaded and stored, the old man put Stevens in charge of drills and marksmanship.

  Then he continued on—alone. There was much to be done in preparation for the invasion.

  For some time Brown had been deliberating about a scheme for recruiting more men. It involved organizing a convention of free blacks and former slaves residing in Canada West, a territory nestled among three of the Great Lakes—Huron, Erie, and Ontario. Almost forty thousand people of color lived in Canada West, most of them former slaves, some freeborn and well educated; they had established communities with schools that provided instruction in literacy, mathematics, and the applied subjects of agronomy and the mechanical arts. Such communities would be ideal destinations for the slaves—especially women and children—the old man intended to liberate.

  To bring his convention to fruition Brown needed the support of the core financial backers he’d come to rely on, and he also hoped to draw on the resources of prosperous persons of color scattered throughout the Northeast.

  But before taking the first step toward realizing his grand ambition, the old man wanted to make sure future generations would know that whatever the outcome of his attempt to free slaves on Southern soil, his cause would be viewed as a righteous one and his aims were in keeping with the ideals of the Founding Fathers. To this end, he intended to put his beliefs and purposes into writing—a document that would serve as a manifesto justifying what he regarded as the most important action in America since the Revolutionary War. Before creating such a document, he needed someone who would listen to his ideas, someone with a sympathetic ear. So he headed for Rochester, New York, the home of his longtime friend and ally Frederick Douglass.

  En route to New York, Brown stopped briefly at the Ohio farm of his eldest son, John Jr., who was still haunted by his experiences in Kansas. He said he’d received a letter from Franklin Sanborn of the Massachusetts State Kansas Committee.

  “Sanborn says that someone he knows nothing about has been up to mischief,” John Jr. told his father. “Apparently your Colonel Forbes wrote Senator Sumner and Dr. Howe. He denounced you and threatened to do great harm to your plans if he isn’t paid what he’s owed.”

  Brown didn’t seem overly concerned. The new year—1858—had just arrived, and he was excited about the prospects of realizing his life’s goal. He was poised to strike a blow against slavery on Southern soil—something he’d been contemplating for more than two decades. Before continuing his journey to New York, he told his son, “We shall wait and see how far Forbes is willing to go.”

  Frederick Douglass’s home was situated on a hill not far from Lake Ontario on the outskirts of Rochester. As a stationmaster on the Underground Railroad, Douglass chose the location for its remoteness; it wasn’t unusual for runaways to hide in his barn before escaping to Canada. The seclusion was ideal for Brown. He could work without having to worry about federal marshals or inquisitive neighbors.

  The youthful appearance of the thirty-nine-year-old Douglass belied the fact he was among the most highly regarded and eloquent spokesmen of the abolitionist movement. His broad, angular face with its prominent jaw was framed by a mass of thick, black hair. In contrast, Brown—now nearly fifty-eight—was still whip-thin and slightly stooped, his face etched by long exposure to the elements. Though the two men differed markedly in age and appearance, they shared a bond of mutual respect. Since their first meeting nearly ten years earlier, Douglass had gradually come to accept the old man’s belief that slavery could be eradicated from the South only through violent action.

  During Brown’s three-week stay in Rochester, Douglass became a captive audience as the old man hammered out the details of his multifaceted plan. It began with a constitution.

  “A constitution for what?” Douglass asked.

  “A constitution that will serve two purposes, my friend—the first being to create a provisional government with all the powers necessary to ensure order and security for men and women who will be experiencing freedom for the first time.” He studied the reaction of his host, then added, “My aim, as you know, is to gather up many hundreds from the plantations, and I do not intend to allow my efforts to turn into anarchy.”

  Douglass said, “And this constitution will eliminate such a possibility?”

  “Indeed—but it also shall have a larger purpose.”

  Since they first met in 1848—when the old man was in the wool business in Massachusetts—Douglass had known about Brown’s dream of liberating slaves. However, talk of a constitution and a provisional government was new to him.

  Brown continued: “The constitution will express everything that lies at the heart of this nation’s calamitous illness—an illness brought on by a slaveholding elite that has usurped the powers of the government.” His voice grew louder. “Our spineless president bows to the slave conspiracy, and the slaveholding chief justice declares the black man to be less than human, mere chattel, having no more rights than a mule.”

  Brown reached into his pocket, pulled out a handkerchief, and mopped his brow. “The people of this nation must understand that it is not I who will have incited an uprising among the slaves. It is the slaveholder who has declared a most barbarous and unprovoked war on those he holds in bondage. He has violated the truths set forth in the Declaration of Independence. He has corrupted the purpose of the federal constitution in order to satisfy his wicked desires.” Brown paused, waited for his passion to cool, then added, “The time has come to make slavery totter from its foundation.”

  The old man had spent himself—emotionally if not physically. Douglass urged him to rest. There would be other opportunities to talk.

  Before retiring for the evening, Douglass mentioned that he had received a visit from Hugh Forbes. The meeting turned out to be a disappointment, he said. “All the man could talk about was his destitute circumstances and that he was in dire need of money.” Douglass admitted he expected more of Forbes, especially since the colonel came with a letter of introduction from Brown.

  From early morning until late in the evening, Brown worked on his constitution, as well as his own version of the Declaration of Independence. His constitution was simplistic, seeming at times to be a parody of the US Constitution; it affirmed the rights of a diverse society, promising freedom and equality not only to slaves but also to others who were oppressed, including women and native peoples. Both documents addressed the injustices of a government held hostage by slaveholders.

  As he wrote, Brown worried his words would be interpreted as a pretext for an armed rebell
ion against the federal government—which was never his intention. He saw his constitution as an instrument advocating reform, providing a model for a more perfect Union. To guard against misinterpretation, he concluded with a caveat:

  The foregoing Articles shall not be construed so as in any way to encourage the overthrow of any State Government of the United States, and look to no dissolution of the Union, but simply to Amendment and Repeal.

  On the eve of his departure from Rochester, Brown was riding a wave of optimism that receded only slightly when Shields Green—a fugitive slave employed by Douglass—handed him another angry letter from Hugh Forbes. Green, who was privy to some of the conversations between Douglass and Brown, had come to admire the old man and felt he had much in common with the ideas he heard expressed.

  The letter from Forbes contained the usual threats but had little effect on Brown; his enthusiasm was still intact as he took time to write Franklin Sanborn, inviting him and the other Massachusetts men—his core benefactors—to attend a meeting at Gerrit Smith’s Peterboro estate near Syracuse. Smith’s home was to be the old man’s next stop. The letter began:

  God has honored but comparatively a very small part of mankind with such mighty and soul-satisfying rewards. . . . I expect to effect a mighty conquest even though it be like the last victory of Samson.

  The meeting at Gerrit Smith’s was important to Brown. He couldn’t take his war on slavery into the South without the support of his backers. So he was disappointed that none of the Massachusetts men showed up except Sanborn. But he was glad to hear Sanborn say he would write a report of the meeting and pass it on to the others when he returned to Boston.

  The gathering took place in an upper room of the Peterboro mansion on February 22—George Washington’s birthday. Only Brown, Smith, and Sanborn were present as the old man laid out the constitution he’d drawn up at Douglass’s home and told of his desire to launch an invasion into slave territory somewhere east of the Alleghenies.