“Once on the [gallows] platform, [John] Brown obligingly positioned himself beneath the hanging rope. Facing south and a little east, toward the Shenandoah River, he had a commanding view of the crowded field, the rolling farmland beyond, and the gentle arc of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Born in the hard, stony hills of northwestern Connecticut, he would cast his last gaze at the fertile valley of Virginia. And his final company on the gallows would be, not the black children and slave mother he’d hoped for, but the portly, top-hatted sheriff…and the jailer and slave dealer, John Avis. Brown raised his pinioned arms to shake their hands, and then the two men tied his ankles, pulled a white hood over his head, and adjusted the noose around his neck. Avis asked Brown to step forward, onto the trap door…”
- Tony Horwitz, Midnight Rising: John Brown and the Raid that Sparked the Civil War
“Was John Brown simply an episode, or was he an eternal truth? And if a truth, how speaks that truth today?”
- W.E.B. Du Bois, John Brown
Today, John Brown – the wizened man with the beard of an Old Testament prophet, and the personality to match – is mostly remembered, if at all, as a footnote in the vast historiography of the American Civil War. Today, he is just another marker on a timeline that includes the Missouri Compromise, the Compromise of 1850, the Fugitive Slave Act, Dredd Scott v. Sandford, and Bleeding Kansas (where Brown first entered the public stage, in murderous fashion). Today, John Brown’s bracing moral clarity – and his lethally precipitate actions – are lost in a fog of euphemisms such as “state’s rights.”
But that is today.
In his own time, his contemporaries recognized what he had done and what he meant. W.E.B. Du Bois wrote that Brown’s assault on Harpers Ferry in 1859 “did more to shake the foundations of slavery than any single thing that ever happened in America.” Frederick Douglass, who knew Brown personally and disagreed with his plans, stated that: “If John Brown did not end the war that ended slavery, he did at least begin the war that ended slavery.” Herman Melville wrote a poem in which he called John Brown, quite simply, “[t]he meteor of the war.”
Tony Horwitz’s Midnight Rising is an attempt to recapture that John Brown, the John Brown who took it upon himself to nudge destiny along. As characters go, he is tough to beat: the man who led a rag-tag group of idealists and adventurers in a harebrained scheme to steal weapons from the U.S. Armory in Harpers Ferry, arm escaped slaves, and start a war; the man who went to Kansas and murdered pro-slave settlers in cold blood; the man who was not just an abolitionist, but a believer in equality; the man of whom Frederick Douglass once said: “I could live for the slave, but he could die for him;” the man who went to the gallows without flinching, his final written statement a prophecy: “I, John Brown, am now quite certain that the crimes of this guilty land will never be purged away but with blood.”
Despite the exceptional raw materials for his book, the early going of Midnight Rising is unexpectedly slow. At 290 pages of text, this is a short book, and I never thought about quitting. Yet it surprised me how uninvolved I felt, even at the halfway point.
The problem is that this is not a typical Tony Horwitz book. Horwitz made his reputation (a sterling, Pulitzer Prize-winning reputation) writing what I call Historical Road Trips. He would choose a topic (the Civil War, Columbus, Captain Cook) and then hit the road (or the water), traveling to the locales himself, talking to local historians, researchers, and enthusiasts. He then produced books that combined the wit and charm of Sarah Vowell’s Assassination Vacation with impeccable reportage and deep insight.
(A sad side note: Horwitz recently died, quite suddenly, at the age of sixty. Undoubtedly, he had many more stories to tell. The tragedy, as always: Life is too short; the library is too large).
Instead of taking that route here, Horwitz decides to present Midnight Rising as a straight history (with the exception of a brief, first-person prologue). The result is a semi-inert retelling of Brown’s early life, his bad business dealings, his growing radicalism, and his shadowy ties to the Secret Six (wealthy northerners who financed his escapades). I’m not saying this was terrible, by any means, but it fell far below my expectations from Horwitz, and did nothing to separate itself from Evan Carton’s Patriotic Treason.
Then comes the raid itself, which is delivered with novelistic detail, narrative coherence, and gripping style. Helped along by a great map of the area, Horwitz delivers the full, bloody, brutal raid, from the accidental shooting of a free black man by Brown’s men (an inauspicious way to begin their crusade), to the slaughter of escaping raiders as they floundered helplessly in the Potomac River, to their final capture in an engine house, by Marines commanded by some feller named Robert Lee, who would have a role to play in the war to come. It is the fullest, best account of Brown’s misbegotten action I have ever read.
Midnight Rising reaches a high peak at this point, and it is natural that there is a comedown as Horwitz deals with the judicial aftermath. Still, his recreation of the gunfight at the corner of Potomac and Shenandoah is worth the cover price.
That said, I can’t help but wish that Horwitz had given Midnight Rising his usual treatment. This is a topic that calls out for an on-the-ground exploration. I would have loved to have had Horwitz ask Americans – both white and black – what John Brown means to them, or if they recognized the name at all.
Because to me, the question of what John Brown symbolizes today is fascinating. Personally, I see in him a rebuke to the notion that the Civil War was ever about anything other than slavery. And his actions – in his willingness to hang from the neck until dead (the New York Tribune said he strangled, jerked, and quivered for five minutes) – serve as a counterpoint to the idea that Americans in the mid-19th century were entirely ignorant of the possibility that slavery was immoral. The proposition of slavery's evil was out there, whether it was believed or not. John Brown put it there, on the front page of every newspaper in the country.
And yet, John Brown can also be reckoned a terrorist and a murderer. He took judgment into his own hands. He was the jury and the executioner. Of course, he would say he had right on his side, that he had righteousness. He would say that he had God looking over his shoulder. Yet we today, in the Age of Terror, know all too well how many crimes have been committed in the name of God.
Unfortunately, in writing a traditional narrative history, Horwitz misses the opportunity to have engaged this discussion in his own inimitable style. That opportunity is now gone forever.
Still, we are left with something worthwhile. A book that serves to remind those who know of John Brown of his importance, and a book that serves to introduce John Brown to those who do not.