Digital
History>eXplorations>John
Brown: Hero or Terrorist?>The
Execution>John Brown to His Family
John
Brown to his Family, November 8, 1859
Source:
Sanborn, John Brown, 585-587
Dear Wife and Children, every one,
I
will begin by saying that I have in some degree recovered from
my wounds, but that I am quite weak in my back and sore about
my
left kidney. My appetite has been quite good for most of the
time since I was hurt. I am supplied with almost everything
I could de
sire to make me comfortable, and the little I do lack (some
articles of clothing which I lost) I may perhaps soon get again.
I am, besides, quite cheerful, having (as I trust) "the
peace of God, which passeth all understanding," to "rule
in my heart," and the testimony (in some degree) of a good
conscience that I have not lived altogether in vain. I can trust
God with both the time and the manner of my death, believing,
as I now do, that for me at this time to seal my testimony for
God and humanity with my blood will do vastly more toward advancing
the cause I have earnestly endeavored to promote, than all I
have done in my life before. I beg of you all meekly and quietly
to submit to this, not feeling yourselves in the least degraded
on that account. Remember, dear wife and children all, that
Jesus of Nazareth suffered a most excruciating death on the
cross as a felon, under the most aggravating circumstances.
Think also of the prophets and apostles and Christians of former
days, who went through greater tribulations than you or I, and
try to be reconciled. May God Almighty comfort all your hearts,
and soon wipe away all tears from your eyes! To him be endless
praise! Think, too, of the crushed millions who "have no
comforter." I charge you all never in your trials to forget
the griefs "of the poor that cry, and of those that have
none to help them." I wrote most earnestly to my dear and
afflicted wife not to come on for the present, at any rate.
I will now give her my reasons for doing so. First, it would
use up all the scanty means she has, or is at all likely to
have, to make herself and children comfortable hereafter. For
let me tell you that the sympathy that is now aroused in your
behalf may not always follow you. There is but little more of
the romantic about helping poor widows and their children than
there is about trying to relieve poor "niggers." Again,
the little comfort it might afford us to meet again would be
dearly bought by the pains of a final separation. We must part;
and I feel assured for us to meet under such dreadful circumstances
would only add to our distress. If she comes on here, she must
be only a gazing stock throughout the whole journey, to be remarked
upon in every look, word, and action, and by all sorts of creatures,
and by all sorts of papers, throughout the whole country. Again,
it is my most decided judgment that in quietly and submissively
staying at home vastly more of generous sympathy will reach
her, without such dreadful sacrifice of feeling as she must
put up with if she comes on. The visits of one or two female
friends that have come on here have produced great excitement,
which is very annoying; and they cannot possibly do me any good.
Oh, Mary! do not come, but patiently wait for the meeting of
those who love God and their fellow men, where no separation
must follow. "They shall go no more out forever."
I greatly long to hear from some one of you, and to learn anything
that in any way affects your welfare. I sent you ten dollars
the other day; did you get it? I have also endeavored to stir
up Christian friends to visit and write to you in your deep
affliction. I have no doubt that some of them, at least, will
heed the call. Write to me, care of Captain John Avis, Charlestown,
Jefferson County, Virginia.
“Finally,
my beloved, be of good comfort." May all your names be
"written in the Lamb's book of life!" may you all
have the purifying and sustaining influence of the Christian
religion) . . .
P.S.
I cannot remember a night so dark as to have hindered the coming
day, nor a storm so furious or dreadful as to prevent the return
of warm sunshine and a cloudless sky. But, beloved ones, do
remember that this is not your rest, that in this world you
have no abiding place or continuing city. To God and his infinite
mercy I always commend you.
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