The morning mists of the Shenandoah and Potomac rivers hung heavy across the narrow streets of Harpers Ferry on 18 October 1859. That day, the little town perched astride the Virginia-Maryland border captured the attention of the nation. John Brown—and the bloody remains of his grandiose scheme to overthrow the government— watched approaching U.S. Marines from his position inside the fire-engine house of the U.S. Arsenal. The militant abolitionist’s short-lived insurrection pulled the Marine Corps squarely into a dramatic prelude to the Civil War.
When John “Ossawatomie” Brown—so called because of the home town of his militant activities in Kansas in 1856—and his band of 18 men descended on Harpers Ferry late in the evening of 16 October, they took hostages, shot and killed several townspeople, and attempted to rally the local slaves for an abolitionist revolt. In response, local militia were feverishly called to arms and steadily pushed Brown’s forces back into the arsenal compound. The bloody debris of John Brown’s army—some six strong, including his mortally wounded son—occupied the U.S. Arsenal and most of Harpers Ferry and traded shots with hundreds of mobilized but disorganized Virginia militiamen who surrounded the building.
At sunrise, Brown’s forces heard the measured, slow approach of troops. They could see the blue dress uniforms, the crossed white webbing, and the black ammunition and bayonet pouches of U.S. Marines. To John Brown, this meant the end, because instead of the clumsy, half-hearted militia, he faced regular troops of the United States. The Marines deployed around the engine house, mostly out of sight.
Brown and his compatriots had done everything within their power to secure their position, but he knew that his only hope was to use his 13 hostages as a means to bargain for escape. Through a crack in the barricaded door, he watched a lone figure approach in an Army uniform, carrying a piece of paper. Brown knew it would be an ultimatum.
The image of a slave revolt was a powerful totem for Virginians in the late 1850s, and the burning memory of slave Nat Turner and South Carolina revolts of earlier generations remained in everyone’s thoughts. Word of the violence at Harpers Ferry spread quickly as soon as the would-be revolutionaries bungled the capture of a Baltimore and Ohio night express. The train escaped and reached Frederick, Maryland. Telegraphed messages reached Secretary of War John B. Floyd, the governors of Virginia and Maryland, and the rest of the nation, starting a chain of events that brought Marines to Harpers Ferry, so far away from their naval element.
Monday, 17 October, had been a beautiful autumn day at the Washington Navy Yard.1 The senior Marine line officer present was First Lieutenant Israel Green, a rising star among the company officers of the Marine Corps. Unlike many senior Marine officers, Green had a deep and abiding intellectual curiosity about his profession, and he actively sought to expand his knowledge. He was the Instructor of Artillery at Marine Barracks Navy Yard, Washington.2 On his own initiative, he spent the summer of 1856 at West Point, learning artillery tactics, and afterward, the Navy allocated a battery of guns for his use. Officers such as Green represented the future of the Marine Corps. Like many of his brother officers, he was tom over the widening chasm that was dividing his country.
At 1200, the Chief Clerk of the Navy Department, Charles W. Welsh, drove his carriage into the Navy Yard, sought out Green, and quickly apprised him of the situation: John Brown of Kansas had taken the Federal arsenal at Harpers Ferry and was at that moment under siege from state troops. A Federal force was needed—quickly—to end the stalemate. Secretary of War Floyd had reported that his soldiers were many hours away. How many Marines were available for immediate service? Green replied that he had some 90 available, as well as two light howitzers.5 While Welsh prepared orders for Navy Secretary Isaac Toucey’s signature to order the Marines to Harpers Ferry, Green readied his troops. He would take 86 Marines, two 3-inch howitzers, one box of .69-caliber ball ammunition for the reworked Model 1842 rifled muskets, and shrapnel for the guns. The troops would go in full-dress uniform, wearing the distinctive blue jackets and trousers, buff-white cross webbing, and the Marine-unique black leather ammunition and bayonet pouches.
By 1330, Colonel John Harris received signed orders from Secretary Toucey directing him to send all available Marines by the next train to Harpers Ferry. Upon arrival, the Marines were to report to the senior Army officer present for instructions. In the absence of a senior officer, Green would take charge and protect government property.
If Green represented the future of the Marine Corps, Colonel Harris was its past and present. A barracks officer who had fought even the modest centralization of Headquarters authority attained by former Commandant Archibald Henderson, Harris saw Marine Corps roles and missions in narrow, parochial terms. He was a slow thinker and mover, but he wasted no time in mobilizing the Marines. The task at hand was a mission drawn directly from the heritage of Harris’s Corps: the employment of a small, detached body of Marines firmly under the control of another service. It just happened that the service that day was the Army instead of the Navy. Harris detailed a senior Major, Corps Paymaster William H. Russell, to accompany young Green on the operation. Russell was a staff officer and could not exercise command, but Harris thought his experience and judicious temperament might prove useful to a more aggressive Green.
The Marines marched to the station and departed on the 1530 train. They changed trains at Relay House on the outskirts of Baltimore and then began the long journey across Maryland to Frederick on the B&O. The sun was setting west of the Blue Ridge to their front, and the morale of the Marines was high. None had previous war experience; for most of them this was their first expedition as
train was shunted to a siding. Waiting there in the crisp Virginia evening, Green and Russell kept the Marines on board the train and peered anxiously down the track back to Washington.
In the small world of the antebellum military, Green undoubtedly knew of Robert E. Lee. He was the coming man in the Army, having served with distinction in the Mexican War and enjoyed the favor of the Commanding General of the Army, Winfield Scott. Lee had been on leave at his Arlington, Virginia, home when the crisis broke. As both a respected soldier and a native Virginian, Lee was the obvious choice for such a touchy, potentially explosive Marines—and a welcome change from the eternal drill- and-order and counterorder of barracks life. They were finally doing what they had enlisted to do.
At Frederick, Green received a telegram from Brevet Colonel Robert E. Lee, the officer placed in command by Secretary of War Floyd. Lee ordered Green to wait at Sandy Hook, a switch point about one mile east of Harpers Ferry, for his arrival on a special train from Washington.4 The Marines reached Sandy Hook well after dark, and their task. That the Army was sending him to command operations showed the significance of the perceived threat.
The special train, chartered by John W. Garrett, the President of the B&O, pulled alongside the Marines at 2200. Lee stepped down and introduced himself to the two Marine officers, and he then presented his own aide, First Lieutenant J. E. B. Stuart, of the 1st U.S. Cavalry. Stuart had been in Washington on personal business when he heard of the crisis at Harpers Ferry. Ever eager to get in a fight, he persuaded Lee to accept him as his volunteer aide.
The two groups of officers exchanged information quickly. Lee did not know much more than the Marines did, but he brought with him a proclamation of martial law, given to him by President James Buchanan that afternoon during a hurried interview. It was Lee’s to issue if he saw fit.
Lee needed intelligence before acting. What was going on in Harpers Ferry? How many men did Brown have? Rumors indicated he had more than 500 men. Four companies of Maryland militia present at Sandy Hook informed Lee of the most recent events at Harpers Ferry: shots had been fired, and some were dead in the town, but the militia had forced the intruders to barricade themselves in the engine house. Besides the small band of men holed up with Brown—and the very critical problem of his hostages—the uprising was over.
Lee telegraphed the War Department to cancel Army reinforcements and decided against issuing the proclamation of martial law, because the circumstances did not require such draconian measures. Lee impressed Green with his calm manner and mastery of the situation.5 At 2300, Green ordered the Marines off the railroad cars, down the track, and across the bridge into Harpers Ferry. He left the artillery on the train. Once the Marines entered the Arsenal compound by a back gate, they took control of the inner security around the engine house. The militia, numbering in the hundreds, maintained an outer, if uncertain, ring in the town. Lee and Green saw immediately the grave weaknesses of the state troops: They were undependable, undisciplined, and largely drunk.
Lee’s problem was simple but difficult. With the insurrection contained, he had to capture—or kill, if necessary—John Brown and his men without harming the hostages. The engine house was a strong position, and the doors were stout and well built. Artillery would have little effect, except against the doors, and would certainly cause injury to the hostages. A storming party appeared to be the only solution. Darkness and the confined space of the engine house—no larger than 30 feet by 20 feet— however, would make identifying the hostages more difficult. Lee postponed his attack until dawn.
It was early morning by the time the Marines were in position around the engine house, and Green, Lee, and Stuart had formulated a plan. At about 0200, Lee wrote a message to be delivered to Brown, demanding his unconditional surrender. On Lee’s command, Stuart would approach the engine house and deliver the ultimatum; he would brook no parley. If Brown refused, Stuart would leap aside, and a storming party would batter down the doors and enter. Lee hoped to catch the abolitionist by surprise, while he was digesting the contents of the note. It might gain precious seconds that could mean the difference between life and death for the hostages.
Lee felt that it would be best if some of the state militia forces in the area composed the assaulting party. He asked Colonel Shriver, commander of Maryland forces, if he wanted the opportunity, but Shriver declined, adding that “These men of mine have wives and children at home. I will not expose them to such risks. You are paid for doing this kind of work.”6 Lee then turned to Colonel Robert W. Baylor, commander of the Virginia militia, and asked the same question. Colonel Baylor also answered negatively, referring to the Marines standing by as “mercenaries.” If any dying was to be done, it would be done by the regulars.7
Israel Green was an interested onlooker to these negotiations. When Baylor said no, Lee turned and asked him, with grave and composed courtesy, if he wished the honor of “taking those men out.”8 It was obviously a rhetorical question, but Green responded with equal courtesy, removing his ceremonial full-dress cover and warmly thanking Lee for the opportunity.
Final preparations for the assault were made in the hour before dawn. Green divided his force into an assaulting party of 12 Marines, armed with service muskets and fixed bayonets, and he designated another 12 Marines as a reserve. Three Marines were armed with sledgehammers to knock down the reinforced wooden doors. Green designated another small party, probably fewer than four, to go with Lieutenant Stuart when he delivered the ultimatum. The remainder, some 60 Marines, were to cordon off the immediate area to prevent escape.
Lee and Green briefed the assault element personally. To reduce any possible injury to the hostages, the Marines would fire no weapons after a breach was obtained. Only bayonets were to be used. Green would enter with the lead element of the assault party, carrying a light sword as his only weapon.
Major Russell was in the background during these preparations, because his status as a paymaster staff officer did not give him the authority to interfere with operational matters. He planned to supervise the reserve. He was armed with nothing more than a rattan switch, because, like Green, he had left Washington in a hurry. Russell had been of considerable use to Green during the hectic early-morning hours, as the small Marine force organized for combat.
Stuart felt that he was not doing enough, but he could contribute nothing else except to act as Lee’s emissary to Brown. Undoubtedly, he coveted the opportunity to lead the assault party, but he was astute enough, as he later wrote to his mother, to realize that “For Colonel Lee to have put me in command of the storming party would have been an outrage to Lieutenant Green, which would have rung through the Navy for 20 years. . .as well they might send him out here [Kansas] to command my company of cavalry. . . .”9
Green and Stuart agreed on a signal to initiate the attack: Stuart would step away from the heavy doors and wave his hat. Unarmed and dressed in civilian clothes, Lee positioned himself on a small rise some 40 feet from the front of the engine house, where he was not visible to the defenders. As the sun broke through the early morning mist, Lee again warned Stuart not to parley with Brown. Stuart was to deliver the ultimatum, promising the insurrectionists protection from a mob assembled in Harpers Ferry, and then demand an immediate answer. If Brown refused, Stuart would signal for the Marines. More than 25 years later, Israel Green wrote with feeling about the appearance of his Marines, recalling that their bright blue uniforms with white cross webbing and French-style fatigue caps gave “color and life to the October morning.”10
At about 0700, Stuart walked boldly toward the heavy, right door of the engine house. As he approached, the door opened slightly, and J. E. B. Stuart could see the bearded visage of John Brown regard him coldly over a cocked Sharps carbine. Stuart knew Brown from his depredations in Kansas and recognized him immediately. Stuart handed him Lee’s note and waited while Brown read it slowly and deliberately. The militia, scarcely more than a rabble themselves, circled and clotted behind the thin blue line of Marines. Behind them, more than 2,000 spectators flooded the small town and watched the exchange. Brown finished reading, looked up, and began to offer a counterproposal—the release of his band and the hostages, with a head start—but before he could elaborate further, Stuart leapt away and waved his hat wildly, finding cover behind the stone abutment between the doors.
The Marines came forward at the double-quick, carrying their muskets at the ready, bayonets fixed. Green was in the lead, and he motioned for the Marines to start their work, then positioned himself next to Stuart at the abutment between the doors. When the sledgehammer party began hammering, they heard the sound of gunfire from inside, as the militants shot back into the heavy doors. The Marines doubled their efforts, since the shots could have signalled a massacre of the hostages, but Brown had prepared his defense wisely: He tied the doors shut with rope, which gave them a spring and defeated the efforts of the sledgemen. In addition, he positioned the fire engines behind the doors and secured the handbrakes. Had Brown desired, he could have shot every hostage while the Marines flailed at the door.
This frustrating effort continued for several minutes with no satisfactory result. Looking about desperately, Green saw a ladder on the ground and sent the reserve party of 12 Marines to retrieve it. Under Major Russell’s direction, they used the ladder as a battering ram. On the second blow, the Marines knocked a hole in a panel of the door, low on the right side, splintering it up from that point. Green dove through from his position beside the abutment. Luckily for him, Brown had just emptied his carbine at the splintered hole a second before and was reloading. Rolling to his right, Green sprinted to cover inside the engine house along the right wall. Private Luke Quinn followed Green through the breach, when John Brown shot him in the abdomen. As more Marines poured through the breach, Green groped for his foe in the smoky gloom. Suddenly, he recognized one of the hostages, Colonel Lewis Washington, who grasped Green’s left hand and said, “Hello, Green, this is Ossawatomie,” as he pointed out Brown. Washington was a nephew of the first President and had positioned himself near the front of the engine house to assist any storming party. The rest of the hostages were huddled against the back wall in a state of abject fear.
Brown was kneeling and reloading again, having just shot Private Mathew Rupert in the face as he came through the small breach. He overheard Washington identify him, but before he could turn, Green sprung and struck him with his sword on the neck. Brown fell on his side and then on his back, apparently unconscious. Green struck him again, this time over his heart with the intent of killing him, but Brown was wearing a leather cross belt, and Green’s sword bent nearly double. The leather belt and the flimsiness of Green’s sword saved Brown’s life. He was knocked senseless, however, and was badly wounded.
By then, at least four other Marines were inside, and the fight resembled a close-quarter infantry brawl. One of Brown’s companions, hiding underneath a firewagon, was bayonetted to death; a second was run through and killed against the back wall of the engine house. The Marines were fighting mad. It was over within three minutes. The smoke-filled, acrid, stinking building was full of hoarse, shouting Marines. Green ordered his men to stop before killing the remaining two terrified abolitionists. He felt that the only defender who put up any real resistance was Brown himself.11 Undoubtedly, the others were stunned by the rapidity of the assault and the ferocity of the Marines, who did not fire but closed implacably with their bayonets, exactly as Lee had ordered.
Thirteen hostages were released unharmed. Brown had defended the engine house with four riflemen and his dying son. Two of his companions were killed in the assault, and Brown was severely wounded. Private Quinn died moments after his wounding. Private Rupert’s wounds were slight.
Lee reported the successful completion of his mission by mid-morning, 18 October. He forwarded initial reports and intelligence data on the rebellion via Major Russell, who returned to Washington that day. Green and the Marines stayed with Lee.12 The War Department directed Lee to turn over the conspirators to local authorities at the county seat. Lee decided to use his dependable Marines for this task, so later in the day, Green escorted the prisoners, including Brown, to Charlestown.
“Rumors and alarms” were rife across the western Virginia countryside, and upon their return, Green, Lee, Stuart, and 25 Marines travelled at 2100 on 19 October to Pleasant Valley, Maryland, where hysterical reports shrieked of yet another attack by militant abolitionists. A hasty five- mile march to the small village, however, found nothing. The weary Marines returned to Harpers Ferry and there boarded the 0115 train to Washington.
Israel Green must have been satisfied with himself on the train ride home. In Harpers Ferry, he exercised independent command of the Marines, under the direction of the leader of the U.S. Army, Robert E. Lee. He led an attack against an entrenched foe and did so without loss of civilian life. He could be confident that Lee was pleased with his performance, as well as that of the entire Marine detachment.
It was a small episode, militarily, but it had enormous political significance. The Marine Corps had accomplished its job creditably, without fanfare, and with the elan of professionals. As the first distant call of the Civil War, Harpers Ferry hinted darkly at the violent, fratricidal strife that was soon to follow.
1. Israel Green, “The Capture of John Brown,” North American Review, No. CCCXLIX, December 1885, p. 564.
2. Biography file of Israel Green, Headquarters United States Marine Corps.
3. Green, op. cit.
4. Ibid.
5. Ibid., p. 568.
6. D. S. Freeman, R. E. Lee (New York: Scribner’s Sons, 1934), vol. I, p. 398.
7. Ibid.
8. Ibid.
9. J. E. B. Stuart, Letter to his mother, January 1860, quoted from H. B. McClellan, The Life and Campaigns of Major General J. E. B. Stuart (Boston and New York: Publisher, 1885), pp. 29-30.
10. Green, op. cit., p. 568.
11. Ibid.
12. Report of Brevet Colonel R. E. Lee in U.S. Congress, Senate, Senate Committee Report No. 278, 1st Session, 36th Congress, p. 43.