There need be no tears for John Brown, wrote Sanborn’s boss at the Springfield Republican, Samuel Bowles. Few men die so happily.

Brown is not dead, George William Curtis declared. He is planted, and he will spring up a hundred-fold.

Sanborn called the whole episode an important and thrilling interlude in his youth. Not only would it go down in Missouri and Virginia history, but in world history likewise. On a more personal note, Sanborn wrote of John Brown’s foray entangling him in still further events and consequences.

Brown's sons Oliver and Watson had died at Harpers Ferry with seven other of Brown's men. Four more men had been hung with Brown at Charlestown: Green, a fugitive slave, Copeland, a free-born Negro, Cook, a white law student, and Coppoc, a young white Quaker. Alfred Hazlitt had been captured, but his life had been spared. Aaron Dwight Stevens, hit by six bullets while carrying a flag of truce, had also been taken prisoner.

John Brown's son Owen had got away, as had Francis Jackson Merriam, who showed up in Concord at Sanborn’s door. -- Out of regard for his safety, Sanborn said, -- I declined to see him. I would give him shelter and see to it he'd arrive safely in Canada. I'd later learn he'd feel chagrine at my apparent lack of confidence in his judgment but, to put it plainly, Merriam seemed quite insane.

Now an outlaw with a price on his head, Merriam had sped north from Virginia, straight to Concord, and knocked at Sanborn's front door. Sanborn was out. His sister Sarah took the fugitive in, fed him, tried to calm him, and kept him out of sight. He brooded or raved, muttering or crying out, insisting there'd need to be another insurrection. Sarah caught her brother at the door before he entered, and summed up the situation for him. Sanborn left directly, going to Emerson's to request the use of his horse and carriage in the morning.

Certainly, said Emerson.

Sanborn next visited Thoreau, explaining he was harboring a man who in the morning had to be taken, even if he protested, to South Acton to catch the Canada-bound train. Sanborn knew George Stearns' wife had recently implored Thoreau to write a biography of John Brown and that Thoreau had declined, being busy, he'd said, building up and revising his notes detailing the life of America's Red Man. Sanborn now asked if he might intrude on Thoreau; was he up to this?

Of course, Thoreau said.

Thoreau had no idea who his unruly, wild-eyed passenger was, and he didn't ask. From the back of the carriage, the stranger demanded he be taken at once to Ralph Waldo Emerson, for he had important plans to lay before him. Perhaps you are Mr. Emerson? You look like him.

No, Thoreau answered, urging the horse to a quicker gait. Merriam now leaped from the carriage.I'm going back to Concord! he cried out. Thoreau stopped the carriage and, talking softly, eased the young man back into the carriage. He saw him off to Canada that same evening.

Charles Loring Brace, a social worker trained as a clergyman, then traveling the New England lecture circuit for the New York City Children's Aid campaign, arrived at Sanborn's house on New Year's day, 1860, joining Alcott, Thoreau, and Sanborn for dinner. To their amazement and delight, Brace had brought with him his Uncle Asa Gray's copy of Charles Darwin's Origin of Species, published just five weeks before. The leading botanist of the 1850s, Gray was the very author of the Botany textbook Thoreau had consumed at Harvard. Gray's very early review of Darwin's new book had just appeared. Rarely seen outside of Cambridge, Gray had explored the Pacific Isles and the American West via dried specimens of plants meticulously catalogued and arranged in his elaborate Harvard herbarium, corresponding with Darwin who had held Thoreau entirely in thrall in 1851 with the book of his travels, The Voyage of the Beagle. Here was Asa Gray's own copy of Darwin's book, here was his nephew Brace, and Alcott, and Thoreau. Sanborn's spirits lifted.

Year of meteors! Walt Whitman would write of the year just entered. Brooding year! Year all mottled with evil and good. Year of forebodings!

I would be a fool and an idiot, Sanborn wrote, not to admit the thrill I felt, beyond the obvious pain, at the outset of 1860. John Brown's foray, not merely into Missouri and Virginia, but into world history, and the events and consequences which followed, could not but leave deep impressions on me. To be in a plot, Cardinal de Retz had written regarding his involvement in a conspiracy to assassinate Cardinal Richelieu, is often a mark of folly. But nothing is more likely to make a man wise, at least for a time, than to have been in one. I know nothing of wisdom but, as for my small share in Brown's enterprise, I have never regretted the least it.

Like John Brown Jr., I was summoned before Virginia's Senator Mason, early in January, Sanborn wrote. He declined to go to Washington because he would be liable to seizure in passing through Virginia and Maryland, and because he knew he would not testify against anyone at any price, including the price of his own exemption. I offered to give testimony in Massachusetts, through fear of lack of protection in Washington. Senator Mason assured me he would be personally responsible for my safety, but I had resolved I would never offer my testimony in the South, to slaveholders.

In mid-January, Bronson Alcott wrote George Stearns' wife Mary, who had sent him a copy of The Life and Epistles of St. John the Just, to thank her for it, saying he had not yet had a chance to read it. Sanborn has this snowy morning, and before breakfast, just returned the book with a revolutionary smile of exceeding hearty approval.

Last night, Mr. Sanborn was waiting in the Post Office when a stranger walked up to him and said, Mr. Sanborn I believe? Ellen Emerson wrote her father, away on a lecture tour, on January 17th. Mr. Sanborn replied, Good evening, sir. Here is your summons, the stranger said. You are summoned to appear in Washington by the 24th of this month. Shall I say you will come, sir? You may make what return you please, sir, he said. Then Sanborn went to meet with Edith, and he told her everything. She came home and told his cousin Alice. They decided to keep things quiet. Edith passed a gentleman in the street who was haranguing on the subject, but she kept her tongue. At 5 o'clock Alice Leavitt and Ellen Forbes came. We were to go to a play, and as we walked along, Alice talked about Willie Forbes.

In order to get into some Harvard secret society, Ellen told her father, Willie had participated in an initiation rite. He was trying to place a Bible stolen from Yale on the preacher's desk in the Harvard Chapel, when he was caught by a watchman, who had hid himself in the pulpit when he'd heard Willie squeezing in at a window. Willie was just putting down the Bibles when the man rose up out of the pulpit and rushed at him. Willie ran, and was fired at. In firing again, the guard aimed aside of him. Willie surrendered. He was confined to a jail cell with two thieves. His father arrived, had them turned out, and turned home looking perfectly pale, telling his family the news. Mrs. Forbes went to see the guard, who said he was very sorry. Willie spent the day and night in jail, which he said was more dreadful than anything he had ever imagined. He said the noises he heard were fearful. He said he hadn't known such things existed. The next day he came home sick. They thought he had scarlet fever. Now he is better, but he feels dreadful, Alice Leavitt told me, her brother being one of Willie's best friends. She went home on Sunday to see if he had anything to do with it. He told her Forbes was the noblest boy in the college, far above such miserable tricks. The boys all knew they risked expulsion when they did such things, but they didn't know that they risked their lives. He said the government owed them amends for keeping them in ignorance. They agreed to give themselves up to the government to be punished in any way, solemnly agreeing never to do anything naughty again while they were in college, if William Forbes were not expelled.

Mr Sanborn will be back in town next Sunday, Ellen informed her father on January 20th. He took tea here last night. He said he could find no man to take the school. When I asked him about James Lowell, he said he doubted he would be willing and, even if he would, he thought he was hardly the right person, though he was a good scholar, experienced in teaching, and a pleasant fellow. Mr. Sanborn said that if he had to stay away more than six weeks, he would give up the school altogether.

We had our Leap-year party at Sanborn's, Ellen wrote her Father on January 23rd. Saturday morning Edward and I went to Milton. We rode out from Boston in the Forbes' carriage. I stayed at the Watson's, and Edward at the Forbes's. Mrs. Watson told me that William Forbes was expelled. The faculty didn't tell him until all the students had gone home for vacation. She also said that the Chief of Police had brought the matter before the Court, and that Willie was to be tried the second week in February and that two lawyers had told her it was a States Prison offence to attack an officer in the discharge of his duty, and that Mr. Forbes ought to send him directly to Europe, and pay the bail. Presently Mr. Forbes came in and asked her to walk with him. When she came home she said Mr Forbes had said there was no danger. In the evening, Mrs Forbes said she was greatly comforted to see Willy so cheery this evening. She said his behaviour and temper through the whole had been most satisfactory, and beautiful, till he had heard of his being expelled from Harvard, after which he was very bitter, for a while.But then his father talked to him for a long time in the kindest manner, and he soon returned to all his normal sweetness of feeling.

Mr. Higginson will be spending the night here tonight, Ellen wrote her father on January 25th. Mr. Sanborn's sister Sarah and their lovely cousin, Louisa Leavitt, will have tea with him. The school goes on well, though Mr. Sanborn is gone.

Mr. Higginson didn't talk much, Ellen wrote on January 28th, after he'd joined them for tea. He leaned forward, fixing his eyes on Edith, whose chattering seemed quite to delight him. Louisa Leavitt perceived his particular attention toward Edith, directing her conversation now to him. He laughed, and kept up with her, and seemed to have a very good time. Overhearing Miss Leavitt talking with Edward about Algebra, he joined in, and soon everyone seemed to be talking on just about everything. Mr. Higginson's lecture that evening was interesting and funny. Afterwards, I offered Mr. Higginson some wine, and mother gave him cakes. The next morning we had breakfast early. Edith came down to make sure we got him off punctually.

Willie Forbes has got a bad deal, Ellen Emerson wrote her father on January 30th. Dr. Walker has published an account of the matter, omitting the pistol part, which makes it very one-sided. I have lost much of my enthusiasm for Cambridge, hearing so much lately of the troubles and drawbacks there. The principle from which the government started was that all the young men of Harvard were scoundrels, which was said to be at the bottom of all our recent troubles. Willie Forbes behaved beautifully, amicably disposed towards the Harvard Faculty, except he did say it was rather mean of Dr. Walker to have passed over the pistol.

Ellen's sister Edith, though enamored of Willie Forbes' recent pain, also felt for Frank Sanborn in his difficult and likewise dramatic circumstances. Such abundant controversy. What trouble men got into!

Their controversial father was away on a lecture tour, in the meantime, stirring up controversy in the West. The important thing is not the form of religion, Emerson was preaching, but the faith common to all.

Emerson annoyed some but delighted many with a trick he had of searching for the last word or phrase of a sentence… which would seem to have… escaped him. Endearingly he would… after a long pause… stumble onto the...just...right...word. Though variously denounced as a Freethinker, Anglophile, monarchist, infidel, and abolitionist, still reporters could swoon, as one did in the Wisconsin State Journal on February 9th, after Emerson's Madison, Wisconsin lecture, There is such charm in his manner, and in the shifting expression of that New England visage of his, with the keen, seer-like eyes, and the fine, deep, musical voice.

Here in Concord, Ellen Emerson wrote a cousin, Mr. Sanborn's doings are at present our chief interest. He disappears, and we say goodbye, supposing he will be gone for months. In the course of a week or two, he astonishes us by opening the parlour door, and saying Good evening, in the most common tone in the world. The next morning the school is stunned by seeing the exile in foreign parts seated calmly in his chair, like a piece of last winter. Every one settles down into the old ways, with a confidence that all is right again when, some morning, Mr. Whittemore suddenly is again in the chair, the headmaster remembered as having been last seen at such a time and place. I am sorry Mr. Sanborn has to run away. It does look cowardly. People who know Mr. Sanborn are sure it is all right, as he is not a coward. He has been writing a protest which will be in all the papers. Captain Brown's daughters have come here to school, and are staying with us at present. They are very willing to talk, and it is very interesting to listen.

Abraham Lincoln arrived in New York City on February 27th. He was surprised to learn he was not to speak at Henry Ward Beecher's Brooklyn church, as had been originally scheduled, but rather at the Cooper Institute. He stayed in Manhattan at the Astor House where, while a snowstorm raged outside, the red carpet was rolled out for him. Matthew Brady took a photograph of Lincoln that would be distributed widely in New England, showing the leather-faced statesman, fifty-one, sans beard, with bright, focused eyes, wearing a new black suit, a vest, a stiff white shirt, and a black tie, his left hand resting on a stack of books. Here was a genuine contender, a man absolutely sure of himself. Though snow flurries whipped New York City that evening, 1,500 people showed up at the Cooper Institute to hear Abe Lincoln speak.

From Washington D.C. came the news that Senator Mason had refused Sanborn's proposal that he testify in Massachusetts. Having supposed he would do that, Sanborn wrote, I had already written him to say that under no conditions would I appear before his damned committee. I said I would adhere to my rights as a citizen of Massachusetts. I reminded him I could hardly rely on his promised protection in Virginia, my friend Sumner having been so brutally assaulted a few years before, in the Virginia Senate Chamber.

Upon the receipt of my missive, Sanborn reported, Senator Mason declared me a Contumacious Witness. On February 16th, the vote came in: I was to be arrested at once, though a few Southern Senators, recognizing my attitude about State Rights was quite similar to theirs, voted against the arrest. I chose not to be seized by anyone any time prior to my being quite ready for it.

Sanborn again traveled to Canada, now stopping by North Elba, Ohio, in order to visit John Brown’s grave and those of his family who still remained. He arranged with mrs. Brown for two of her daughters, Anne and Sarah, to enter his school.

I am back in Concord, Sanborn wrote his mother in New Hampshire on February 28th, though in a place unknown to all but a few persons. Colonel Whiting has taken me in, agreeing not to reveal my whereabouts. Since my arrest was ordered by the Senate, it is unclear how freely I may go about my business here. To be on the safe side I have taken precautions. It is not generally known that I am in town, though I was walking in the street every evening but one last week. On Sunday I walked all around town, calling at half a dozen houses. I keep myself busy indoors with reading and writing, and keeping an eye on my school, which goes on well in my absence, under Mr. Whittemore and the other teachers. Do not be overly concerned about me, Sanborn soothed his mother. I am as unconcerned as ever in my life. I slept at home last Saturday night. The Brown girls, Anne and Sarah, daughters of John Brown, went to school yesterday.

I was lately at the center of a vortex of costumes, Louisa may Alcott wrote a friend in early March, preparing for a grand Masquerade Ball held at the Town House, given by the Dominie, Sanborn, and his students, nineteen of whom had come to me coolly, one after the other, seeking ideas, or dresses, driving me nearly to distraction. The ball came off yesterday evening, and was a fine affair. Everyone had done their best to be splendid, and splendid they were. The gentlemen were smart as you please in velvet cloaks, plumy hats, slashed doublets, and big boots. The ladies were queens and vivandiere's. There was Alciabades, a Zouave, Don Giovanni, Rob Roy, Robin Hood, a turkey buzzard in Turkish dress, a Spaniard in a black slouched hat, feathers and a big cloak, a lady from Maine with her umbrel bag and spec's, and Lady Teazle from The School for Scandal in crimson and white brocade with pearls promiscuous and white plumes, a jack daw all fun and feathers, looking like Vashti or any other fabulous old being given to the vanities of the flesh. There were seventy five or a hundred in masks, besides a gallery full of spectators, a band of five tooters, and a caller, Johnny, his one eye more askew than ever with the excitement of the thing. Everybody loved it except the same old fogies who always want things back as they were at Noah's ark.

An invitation came from Philadelphia asking Emerson to speak there, which now was withdrawn as Emerson was known to be a defender of Captain John Brown, whose recent action, it was felt in the Quaker City, was contemptuous. A riot was feared. Emerson simply traveled on to New York City, to give his lectue on Manners there. Though Manhattan surely was home to more slavery sympathizers than Philadelphia, Emerson lectured at the New York Christian Union on March 23rd without incident.

Whenever Emerson was away from Concord on his lecture tours, Ellen, then 21, and Edith, 19, could be counted on to keep him posted about life at home. Ellen acted as her father's treasurer and secretary. If Ellen wasn't available to deposit checks in the bank, or to pay bills, then Edith could be trusted to take care of it.

In Concord through much of the spring and summer of 1860, Emerson lectured frequently in Boston. With Theodore Parker off in Florence, Italy, Emerson was invited to lecture Sundays before the enormous audiences of Parker's Fraternity, the Congregational Society, at the Boston Music Hall.

Elizabeth Peabody was out of Massachusetts for a time that month, visiting Richmond, Virginia, where she sought from Governor Letcher a reprieve for the two remaining Harpers Ferry prisoners, Albert Hazlitt and Aaron Stevens. The Governor listened stonily, unmoved. He denied the request. Stevens was hanged on March 16th.

Concord's citizens were put on red alert. A network was formed for the reporting of the arrival of a stranger, such as had occasionally showed up in search of fugitive slaves. Sanborn's whereabouts of any evening were kept secret. He stayed each night in a different house. Just about every home in Concord was opened to him. Mary Mann offered him Wayside. No one could say just how often, or when, Sanborn was with Mrs. Mann.

The report of the Secretary of the Concord School Committee, Franklin Sanborn, was issued on April 2, 1860, in the midst controversy over Concord's District System. The Committee had consisted of two members representing the one district that was Concord's town center, and one representing the six other outlying districts, combined. Sanborn had thrown himself headlong into the controversy, opposing the staus quo, supporting the proposition of districts' rights to greater representation on the School Committee. Concord voters had thrown their lots in with Sanborn, and the School Committee grew to comprise three people from the town center district, and one person from each of the other six outlying districts. Sanborn's ambition of employing a Superintendent of Schools at $100 a year had also won voters' approval. Sanborn had been made School Committee Secretary and, as his first act, he had placed Bronson Alcott's name into nomination for Superintendent of Schools, though Alcott had never allowed his own children to attend public schools, nor even Sanborn's school for that matter.

On Tuesday, April 3rd, the controversial Secretary of the School Committee was arrested by Federal Marshals bearing a subpoena from the U.S. Senate.