The essay “A Plea for Captain John Brown” by transcendentalist philosopher Henry David Thoreau was written in the immediate aftermath of abolitionist John Brown’s 1859 raid on Harpers Ferry—a violent anti-slavery uprising (See: Background). First read to the citizens of Concord, Massachusetts, on the evening of Sunday, October 30, 1859, the speech was delivered again following Brown’s subsequent arrest and prior to his execution on December 2, 1859.

Thoreau delivered the address to an audience made up of Christians who were generally sympathetic to the abolition of slavery but for whom violent confrontation was unpalatable. Thoreau contrasts Brown’s actions with the inaction of the comfortable religious and editorial institutions who dismissed him as irrational. The speech is a mosaic that moves fluidly between tribute and critique. It explores The Question of Violence in a Civil Society, The Self-Delusion of the Christian Church, and The Cowardice of Mass Media.

The speech is an example of the apologia genre, an address that uses the rhetorical devices ethos, pathos, and logos, which Thoreau marshals to argue in favor of Brown. Thoreau employs metaphor and allusion to compare the life of the infamous abolitionist to other revolutionary, historical, and religious heroes, positioning Brown within an ethic of transcendent virtue in defiance of unjust civil governance.

This study guide refers to the printed text found on the Project Gutenberg website and is cited by paragraph.

Thoreau spends the first third of the essay arguing in favor of Brown’s character and the character of his men. A biographical sketch positions Brown as an intrinsically peaceful, simple, honest, Puritan, and Cromwellian man (See: Index of Terms) with “Spartan habits” (11): As a boy, after the War of 1812, Brown resolved to “never have anything to do with war unless it were a war for Liberty” (2). Thoreau also exalts the discipline of Brown’s men in the Kansas Territory, where they fought the disreputable pro-slavery border ruffians during the Bleeding Kansas era of history (See: Index of Terms), a period marked by extremist violence following the Kansas-Nebraska Act of 1854.

Thoreau repeatedly insinuates that Brown’s minuscule forces were so successful because of the inherent rightness of their cause. Brown was not as highly educated as many others in New England but used direct action to live according to his principles—a commitment that marks him a true transcendentalist. Thoreau then appeals to logos, conveying Brown’s allegiance to the liberty granted by the US Constitution and his faith in the Union. Many in Thoreau’s audience no doubt sympathized with this position and recognized the inherent logical discrepancy between a nation based on the ideal of freedom and the practice of slavery.

In the middle third of the essay, claiming to represent a growing and important contingency of citizens disenchanted by the quagmire of electoral politics, Thoreau turns his attention to the editorials that followed the raid on Harpers Ferry. Newspapers editors, Thoreau contests, agree with Brown that slavery is morally unacceptable but offer no alternative solutions to the crisis of slavery and only “criticize his tactics” (4). Thoreau mocks those who criticize Brown on the charge that he “threw his life away,” asking, “Which way have they thrown their lives, pray?” (5). Thoreau questions the idea that Brown needs to have won for his actions to be justified. The transcendent principles are all that matters, and Brown’s heroic action will pay dividends when it inspires others to follow suit. Via several literary and historical allusions, Thoreau points out that the masses glorify unthinking soldiers—whether in the poem “The Charge of the Light Brigade” by Lord Tennyson, or in the writings of Plutarch, or by valorizing the courage of the Revolutionary Army officer Israel Putnam—yet shrink back from Brown. What kind of bravery is it, Thoreau asks, to allow slavery to proceed unabated?

Thoreau then sets his sights on the Christian Church for their complicity in the violence through abstention on the question of slavery—a position he calls only a pretense of morality. Many abolitionists at the time placed their faith in the American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions—an organization that oversaw the deployment of missionaries abroad and domestically. But Thoreau accuses the Board of being emblematic of Christian abolitionists who are too comfortable to take action but criticize anyone who fights for the cause. While his neighbors cannot conceive of anyone more virtuous than themselves, when the time for action strikes, no one wants to talk about their beliefs anymore.

Thoreau compares patriotism to idol worship: It romanticizes other places and periods imagined to be simpler and relies on the slow process of electoral reform rather than confronting a living, breathing example of the beliefs patriots claim to hold. Thoreau points out in Paragraph 28 that Brown’s actual testimony has not even been reproduced in its entirety; instead, the space was taken by the minutia of political conventions—which is akin to printing an antiquated legal prognosis in place of the New Testament.

At the midpoint of the essay, Thoreau calls out the hypocrisy of William Lloyd Garrison, publisher of the anti-slavery newspaper The Liberator, and of the Bostonian abolitionists and editors who moralized against the South. Thoreau charges Garrison with being too concerned about losing subscribers to defend an honest man in his time of need; editors like him point the finger at moral men while concerning themselves mostly with their own prosperity. They wanted to shame the South for their violence while sitting by and doing nothing about it, while Brown has made them look foolish by taking from their sails “the little wind they had” (30).

To show the significance of Brown’s actions, Thoreau explains that the attack has disrupted the calm in the South. This is why Brown is such a fruitful champion of justice.

In response to the accusation that Brown’s actions constitute unprecedented violence, Thoreau details the violence of slavery and slave transport. Ignoring this is classism—the editors of the newspapers look down on Brown for getting his hands dirty, while they hide their hands in their pockets. Thoreau wants Brown to become a representative of the South because he represents the pinnacle of American virtue.

In the final third of the essay, Thoreau outlines his resistance to a government that is no longer capable of holding the moral high ground. By killing Brown, the state shows itself to be immoral. Pointing out that the Underground Railroad functions outside the law and yet receives broad tacit support in the North, Thoreau reasserts Brown’s claim to the right to free enslaved people from their enslavers, with force if necessary. “I do not wish to kill or be killed,” Thoreau says, “but I can foresee circumstances in which both of these things would be by me unavoidable” (57).

In “the light of history” (10), Thoreau contends, Brown will eclipse even the great Revolutionary heroes of Concord, while those who refuse to resist slavery will be completely erased. Brown can teach the American people what it means to lead; that his attack failed indicates only the failure of his neighbors to stand behind him—four million enslaved Americans would have considered Brown a savior had he succeeded.

The last page of the essay likens Brown to Christ several times. Brown represents true America, the best of Christianity, and the best of transcendental philosophy. The essay concludes by quoting Brown’s prescient warning to the South regarding the imminent prospect of war. In the final paragraph, Thoreau speaks of a time in the future when Brown will be renowned and slavery will be abolished: “Then, and not till then,” says Thoreau, “we will take our revenge” (77).