These are the two ends of a chain which is not
without its links. He is not Old Brown any longer; he is an angel
of light.
I see now that it was necessary that the bravest and humanest man
in all the country should be hung. Perhaps he saw it himself. I
almost fear that I may yet hear of his deliverance, doubting if a
prolonged life, if any life, can do as much good as his death.
"Misguided"! "Garrulous"! "Insane"! "Vindictive"! So ye write
in your easy-chairs, and thus he wounded responds from the floor of
the Armory, clear as a cloudless sky, true as the voice of nature
is: "No man sent me here; it was my own prompting and that of my
Maker. I acknowledge no master in human form."
And in what a sweet and noble strain he proceeds, addressing his
captors, who stand over him: "I think, my friends, you are guilty
of a great wrong against God and humanity, and it would be perfectly
right for any one to interfere with you so far as to free those
you willfully and wickedly hold in bondage."
And, referring to his movement: "It is, in my opinion, the greatest
service a man can render to God."
"I pity the poor in bondage that have none to help them; that is
why I am here; not to gratify any personal animosity, revenge, or
vindictive spirit. It is my sympathy with the oppressed and the
wronged, that are as good as you, and as precious in the sight of
God."
You don't know your testament when you see it.
"I want you to understand that I respect the rights of the poorest
and weakest of colored people, oppressed by the slave power, just
as much as I do those of the most wealthy and powerful."
"I wish to say, furthermore, that you had better, all you people
at the South, prepare yourselves for a settlement of that question,
that must come up for settlement sooner than your are prepared for
it. The sooner you are prepared the better. You may dispose of
me very easily. I am nearly disposed of now; but this question is
still to be settled,--this negro question, I mean; the end of that
is not yet."
I foresee the time when the painter will paint that scene, no longer
going to Rome for a subject; the poet will sing it; the historian
record it; and, with the Landing of the Pilgrims and the Declaration
of Independence, it will be the ornament of some future national
gallery, when at least the present form of slavery shall be no
more here. We shall then be at liberty to weep for Captain Brown.
Then, and not till then, we will take our revenge.
