Portrait and Biography of Parson Brownlow, The Tennessee Patriot

or, as Pollock says,

"Where gravitation, shifting, turns the other way,
And sends him Hellwards."

They drove Johnson's wife, far gone with consumption, and very feeble, to take refuge with her son-in-law in the adjoining county of Carter. They drove him into the woods, where he remained no less than three months, used his house and his beds for a hospital, and sold his goods at public sale. But the scale has turned. Andrew Johnson is now Governor. He is "the right man in the right place."

If President Lincoln had consulted the Union men of Tennessee as to what man should occupy that position, the reply would have been almost unanimously, "give us Andy Johnson." He has the unflinching courage of Old Hickory, and let me tell you, too, that he feels all the malice and venom requisite for the occasion. He will row those wretches up Salt River. He will send a good many of them to Fort Warren, where, I trust, after due trial for treason, they will be hung upon a gallows of similar character and dimensions to that upon which Haman hung.

When, upon the 6th of November, they thrust me into jail at Knoxville, I found one hundred and fifty men whose sole offence was their faithfulness to the Union. Every man among them was an acquaintance of mine. Three of them were Baptist preachers. One of these three, old man Pope, a man seventy years of age, and for many years a Minister of the Gospel, was thrown into jail for praying, previously to his sermon, for the blessing of God upon the President of the United States. The Rev. Mr. Kates, a man about seventy-five years old, was imprisoned for throwing up his cap and hallooing as a company of Union Home Guards was passing.

When I entered the door the inmates of the prison were perfectly astonished. Some of them were so overpowered by the nature of the circumstances, that they could hardly speak. "O," said they, "we never expected to come to this. We never expected the day would come when we would look through the iron grates of a prison!"

I said to them, "Boys, cheer up. Are you here for murder, or counterfeiting, or horse-stealing? No. You are here for no other offence than that of defending the glorious stars and stripes, and I look upon this as the brightest day of my life. These scoundrels will be sick of this business before the thing is over."

While I was in the jail both of these poor preachers were taken sick. The furniture of the prison deserves description. There was no sign of a bedstead, not a chair nor a stool of any kind, and the only "furniture" there was consisted of a dirty wooden pail and two tin cups. The whole one hundred and fifty prisoners could not lie down at once, so that we had to "spell" each other, so all might have a little while to sleep. A part stood while the others lay down. That's the way we lived in the jail.

These poor old preachers came near dying. The rebels showed me one favor. The jailor, I knew, as a mean, sneaking rascal, whom I had published in my paper for forgery, and I was sure that he would give me arsenic in order to make sure of my not doing so again, and I obtained permission for my wife to send me my dinner every day, and I had to send the basket full every day, and in this way I had the satisfaction of feeding those two feeble old preachers for two weeks with something they could eat.

Old Mr. Kates had three sons in jail. Madison Kates was on the verge of the grave with typhoid fever. He lay upon the floor of that damp brick jail, with an old overcoat under his head for a pillow, and a single thickness of old home-made carpeting between him and the cold, damp floor of the prison. In this condition his poor wife came thirty-five miles to see him, with an infant about six weeks old in her arms. She came into the yard of the prison and asked permission to see her husband. The officers said "No, they did not allow any body to have anything to say to these infernal Union-shriekers." I went to the window then, myself, and by dint of perseverance, prevailed upon them at last to let her see her husband. They limited her to just fifteen minutes. When she entered the door her eyes fell upon her husband lying in the corner, so weak and emaciated that he could scarcely stir. He was nearly gone. She held her infant in her arms. The sight of her husband in that condition unnerved her completely. Seeing she was upon the point of letting the child fall, I took it from her and she sank down upon the floor beside her husband. Neither of them uttered a word, but clasping each others hands they sobbed and cried together, and O, my God! I hope that I shall never see such a sight as that again.

That, ladies and gentlemen, is the spirit – the hellish, inhuman, infernal spirit of secession. The Devil himself is a saint, compared to the leaders in that scheme.

In Andrew Johnson's town they hung up two men to the same limb, and the bloody Col. Ledbetter, a man born and educated in the State of Maine, going down to Mobile and marrying a lot of negroes through another woman – the worst man, the biggest coward, and the blackest-hearted villain that ever made a track in East Tennessee – this man tied the knots with his own hands, and directed that the victims should be left hanging for four days and nights right over the iron track of the railroad, and ordered the engineers to run their trains slowly by the spot in order that the secessionists on board might feast their eyes upon the ghastly spectacle. And it is a fact as true as it is revolting, that men stood upon the platforms of every train that went by and kicked the dead bodies as they passed, and struck them with sticks and ratans, with such remarks as "that they looked well hanging there," and that all "d – d Yankees and traitors should hang that way too." It is true that Col. Ledbetter, as the weather was somewhat warm and the corpses were becoming somewhat offensive, ordered them to be cut down at the expiration of some thirty-six hours, but it was for the convenience of his secession friends purely, and not from any other motive.

One day they came with two carts and took old Harmon, a Methodist class leader, and his son. Old Mr. Harmon was seated in one cart upon his coffin, and his son in the other, and each cart was surrounded by a strong guard of rebel bayonets, and driven down the hill to a scaffold in sight of the jail. The young man was hung first, and the father was compelled to look upon his death struggles. Then he was told to mount the scaffold, but being feeble and overpowered by his feelings, two of the ruffians took hold of him, one of them saying, "Get up there, you damned old traitor!" and the poor old man was launched after his son.

A few days after this they came up to the jail with another cart. We never knew whose turn was to come next. I had "counted the cost." I intended, if my turn had come, to meet my fate with the best grace I could. I had prepared a speech for the occasion, and I can assure you that I should have pronounced a handsome eulogy, if I had been called upon, for if I have any talent in the world, it is that talent which consists in piling up one epithet upon another. But it turned out that the cart was not intended for me. It was intended for a young man by the name of H. C. Haun, an excellent young man of fine morals and good common sense. He had a wife and two small children. Haun was informed one hour before hand that he was to be hung. He immediately asked for a Methodist preacher who lived in the town, to come to see him, and to pray with him. The reply was: "We don't permit any praying here for a damned Union-shrieker."

Haun met his fate like a man. When under the scaffold, a drunken, lying chaplain rose up, and delivered a short address. Said he, "The poor, unfortunate young man, who is now about to pay the penalty of his crimes, says that he regrets his course, and that he was led into it through the influence of traitors. He is, therefore, deserving of your pity." As quick as thought Haun sprang to his feet, and in a much stronger and steadier tone than the lying villain beside him had made use of, said: "My fellow citizen, there is not one word of truth in what that man has told you. I have made no such concession. On the contrary, all that I have said and done, I have said and done after mature deliberation, and I would do the same again. I am here ready to be executed. Execute your purposes." He died like every Union man ought to die when called to face death by villains and traitors.

My fellow citizens: I congratulate you upon the fact, now sufficiently clear, that the rebellion is now pretty well "played out." We will wind the thing up this spring and summer. They are nearly "out of soap" down South. They lack guns, clothing, boots and shoes. The boots I have on cost me $15 in Knoxville. They are out of hats, too. In Knoxville there is not a bolt of bleached domestic or calico to be had, nor a spool of Coat's thread, and, although "Cotton is King," we never made a spool of thread south of Mason and Dixon's line. Sewing needles and pins are not to be had. The blockade is breaking them up. It has been remarked on the streets of Knoxville, that no such thing as a fine-toothed comb was to be had, and that all the little secession heads were full of squatter sovereigns hunting for their rights in the territories. [Laughter and applause.]

The Reverend Doctor retired amid continued applause and cheering, and was followed by General Samuel F. Cary, of Ohio, who, though his remarks were brief, were marked with that spirit-stirring eloquence for which he is noted. Many of his patriotic allusions and decided and unerring blows at traitors were received with vociferous shouts of applause. He said that all were rejoiced at the delivery of Brownlow from the clutches of tyranny, but our rejoicings were saddened by the thought that multitudes like him were flying to the mountains for safety, or were rotting in prisons, or were being hanged and murdered for loving their country. He wished the President and Government could learn to appreciate the magnitude of the rebellion. It was time that hemp was used to hang the leaders of this wicked rebellion. It had been said by the sympathisers with this infernal war against the Government, that the Abolitionists had brought the war upon the country. This was simply a lie. The President and all connected with the management of the Government had manifested a desire to protect slave property above all other property. He, for one, would protect a loyal man like Brownlow in his property, be it slave property or otherwise; but he would confiscate the property of rebels, their lands, their houses, their niggers and their necks. The integrity of the Republic should be saved at all cost, and he would be willing for a still further sacrifice of life and expenditure of money, rather than compromise on any other principle or condition than that every leader of the rebellion should meet the death of a traitor upon the gallows.

He claimed that slavery was only a pretext with the conspirators who originated the rebellion – it was not the cause of the war. It was mainly hostility to popular government on the part of the aristocrats of South Carolina and other fire-eating States. South Carolina had in it during the Revolution more tories than any other State, and she never had an organized government that conformed to the requirements of the Constitution – it was not Republican in form. A property qualification was required for voters larger than that of England. The people never voted for President or any officer save that of members of the State Assembly, and the poor man had no voice even in that election. Their judges, elected for life, came upon the bench clothed in gowns and wigs, and the Speaker of their Legislature was ushered into his chair according to the old British custom, adorned with robes, and in the most pompous manner. They had no penitentiary in that State, but the whipping-post, ear-cropping and branding were the punishments most in vogue.

The speaker said he sometimes felt gratified that this war had come upon us. We had been a nation of party worshippers, and had lost sight of that spirit of patriotism that should ever guide freeman of so great and free a nation. He hoped that party spirit would be obliterated forever, though we had men in Indiana who were plotting how to make political capital out of the misfortunes of the country. Next to secessionists, he despised such men. They were so selfish that they would sell their grandmother's bones to button makers.

His motto was: "Let Slavery take care of itself." Let us put down the rebellion, and whatever may come in the way of accomplishing this purpose, be it slavery or what else, let it perish. He had been called a proslavery man, because he had advocated non-interference with the question in the States. He believed that it was requisite that the institution should exist as a contrast to be constantly kept before the laboring men of the North as an encouragement to labor. Invention was the child of an educated people, and our great improvement in the sciences, arts and mechanics, was attributable to our respect for and aid given to the man who earns his bread by the sweat of his brow. Let the problem work itself out. Like the skunk that the man would not kill, but confined until it stunk itself to death, slavery was destined, if left alone, to kill itself. It had been said that it would be best to divide the country, and let the secessionists have a country of their own. The channel of the Mississippi will never be permitted to be owned or obstructed by any other government, and no other flag will be allowed to wave but the proud ensign of the American Union. Americans can never consent to be humiliated to ask passports into a foreign country to visit the tombs of Washington, Jackson or Clay, and Indianians should never consent to allow Kentuckians to give a quit claim deed to the ashes of their dead ancestry now mingling with the soil of this State. The country never will be divided. Let us all unite then in extinguishing the rebellion, and vindicate ourselves by hanging Jeff. Davis and Toombs between the heavens and the earth.

Alluding to the course pursued by Southern divines, General Cary said Bishop Polk now utters oaths, and he did not wonder at it, for when a man becomes a rebel he has severed the last link that binds men to their God, and there was no hope for their repentance or salvation. He had told a Universalist preacher lately to quit preaching his doctrines until after the rebellion, for a real fire and brimstone hell was wanted for the benefit of its authors and abettors.

General Cary concluded his brief address amid cries of "go on," "go on," but owing to the lateness of the evening he declined to say more.

The popular chorus of "Glory Hallelujah! the Lord is on our side," was then sung by a number of musical amateurs, after which Governor Morton announced the news just received of General Pope's brilliant victory, which the audience received with vehement cheering. The patriotic Parson joined in with the assemblage, and waved his handkerchief exultingly.

T. Buchanan Reed, one of the nation's best poets, was introduced by Governor Morton, who read, in a style that but few professional readers could excel, some extracts from patriotic poems and songs of his own composition, viz: "The Wild Wagoner of the Alleghanies," "A Tribute to the Brave Ones at Home," and "The Defenders." Each and all of these readings were received with applause by the audience.

After "Hail Columbia," by the band, the meeting adjourned. Take it all in all, it was decidedly the most intellectual and spirit-stirring entertainment Indianapolis has ever witnessed.

BROWNLOW IN CHICAGO

The Parson left Indianapolis for Chicago on the 8th of April, attended by General Cary and others, and arrived at the latter place on the morning of the 9th, having met, all along the road, repeated and earnest demonstrations of welcome, from the sympathizing, loyal masses of the people.

During the whole of Thursday, the 10th, Mr. Brownlow was the recipient of visits from the citizens of Chicago. Between the hours of 11 and 12 there was a crowd of ladies gathered in the spacious parlors to pay their respects, and during the introductory exercises he made the following impromptu remarks:

Ladies and Gentlemen: – When I had the honor, last evening, of meeting and being introduced to the committees which your city sent to greet me, I remarked that those committees formed the finest body of men I ever saw. But when I look at the sweet faces and forms which I now see before me, I am ready to pronounce those men a very ordinary looking lot. If I am more particularly attached to the tall ladies, it is because I am more strikingly reminded of the loved ones at home.

AT THE BOARD OF TRADE

It being understood that the Parson would make his appearance on 'Change at 12 o'clock, long before that hour arrived large numbers of the citizens, members of the Board and others, began to gather there, and by noon the spacious rooms were packed to their utmost capacity with persons eager to catch a glimpse of the redoubtable Parson, and pay him that respect to which his patriotic conduct has entitled him. At 12 o'clock the distinguished guest entered, arm in arm with Mayor Rumsey, and followed by the different Committees of Reception. The Parson's appearance was greeted with hearty applause, and, when order was restored, Stephen Clary, Esq., made a few appropriate introductory remarks; after which, Mayor Rumsey arose and said:

Fellow Citizens: – It may have been expected that on this occasion I would make a speech before you; but such is not my intention. The condition of my health, and the hoarseness with which I am afflicted, render it well-nigh impossible for me to speak at all. I will, therefore, only say that, in behalf of the city of Chicago, whose chief magistrate I am, it is my privilege to introduce to you Mr. W. G. Brownlow, and in your behalf welcome, to the hospitalities of our city, this noble patriot, who has periled not only his temporal interests, but his life, for the Union cause in Tennessee. It is sufficient that I mention his name to you.

After the Mayor had concluded, J. C. Wright, Esq., on behalf of the Board of Trade, addressed Mr. Brownlow in an eloquent and stirring manner, as follows:

Rev. W. G. Brownlow: – At the request of the officers of this Board of Trade, I have the honor, sir, of performing the most agreeable duty of welcoming you to our Exchange.

It is not, sir, because of any official position you now hold, or have held, that this vast assembly has gathered here to receive you; but, sir, it is a mark of respect and admiration for your patriotic devotion to your country. When this horrid rebellion assumed its gigantic proportions, the loyal men of the North watched with anxiety the course of many men of the South, whom we had delighted to honor with the highest positions of trust and power. With rare exceptions we saw them retreating into the ranks of the traitors, using their influence, wealth and position to strike down the mildest and most beneficent government which God in his mercy had ever permitted man to establish. They beguiled and deceived the people, who had been accustomed to look up to them, and listen to their counsels. Many of the arch traitors, not content to act with the popular voice of their States, joined the ranks of the rebels, endeavoring to force their States to disregard their allegiance to that glorious Union which, for nearly a century, had thrown its genial influence and protection over a united, happy, and prosperous people. Amidst all this horrid exhibition of treason, and malignant, hellish hate, when the heart grew sick at contemplating the dark and dismal scene before us; when your neighbors and friends around you, in vast numbers, had deserted that old flag, consecrated by our fathers' blood, and were trampling under foot that Constitution which had so long been our pride and our hope, you, sir, stood firm and unmoved in your devoted patriotism. Threatened with the halter, with your grave yawning before you, with scorn you spurned proffered freedom in such honors as traitors could confer. To you the grave had no terrors to be shunned by an act of disloyalty to your beloved and now grateful country.

We are now rapidly making undying history for future generations to read. When the history of this wicked rebellion – for I can not call it an honorable war – is written, it will be sadly deficient, if its pages do not tell, in words that burn, the story of your wrongs, your fortitude, and your unswerving devotion to your country in the hour of her great trial. Our children will need no romance to stir their young hearts, but the truthful picture of your sufferings and heroism will fill the place of high wrought fiction. We shall no longer point to the classic ages for noble examples of heroes, who laughed at the halter and rack, and scorned life at the price of dishonor.

Sir, it is because you have so loved your country, and suffered for your principles, that we this day welcome you to our Exchange, to our hearth-stones, to our hearts.

In behalf of the officers, and of the more than nine hundred loyal members of this Board, again, air, I bid you welcome. Amid the stirring, glorious news of the triumph of our arms, I bid you welcome.

At the close of Mr. Wright's address, Parson Brownlow arose, and, after pausing a few moments until the tumult of applause had subsided, in a calm, clear voice, began his remarks. His first few words were uttered in a low tone, scarcely audible except to those nearest the speaker; but presently his voice was raised to a higher key, and, with his distinct and emphatic enunciation, every person in the vast crowd could easily hear and understand.

He said he claimed no credit for his acts in Tennessee, for he had simply done his duty – nothing more – and any man who would not, under similar circumstances, do the same thing, deserved to be hung. He was a Union man from principle, not from policy. He had always been a Union man; it was no new thing with him. He had opposed secession with what abilities God had given him, under all circumstances, and wherever, in his presence, it had shown its vile features. And this he should continue to do, at the risk of being mobbed and hung, if need be. He was a national man; he had no sentiments in the South that he was not willing to promulgate in the North; and none in the North that he would not proclaim upon the house-top in the Southern States. In 1828, the speaker supported John Quincy Adams for the Presidency, and for that act incurred the hatred of many of his friends in the South. At a later day, when Mr. Adams presented before Congress a petition for the abolition of slavery, the speaker also defended him in that particular; for, though not an abolitionist, he had always contended that a Congressman's constituents had the right to petition that body for anything they might desire. He had supported that eminent statesman, Henry Clay; and, when he died, he would willingly have voted for Clay's last pair of pantaloons, stuffed with straw! He had advocated the claims of Daniel Webster, for his gigantic intellect and commanding statesmanship entitled him to the highest honors of the nation. But the last ticket he had supported was the Bell-Everett ticket, which bore such a close resemblance to a kangaroo – being the strongest in its hinder parts. He should make a trip to Boston, purposely to visit Edward Everett, and to take him by the hand, for he was a patriot. But as to "Old Man Bell," he was fast traveling the road leading to a certain locality where traitors and devils are sure to land eventually. Being destitute of nerve, moral courage, of fixed patriotic principles, the weak old man had succumbed to the hell-born and hell-bound heresy of secession.

The speaker here made allusion to the treatment he had received from the traitorous rabble in his own State, and gave a brief sketch of his imprisonment in the Knoxville jail; of the threats of immediate execution with which his ears were daily regaled; the actual hanging of many of his companions in the prison; and many interesting particulars of the struggle between treason and loyalty in Eastern Tennessee. He stated that, for many days, he fully expected to be hung, and had become perfectly resigned to his fate, provided his persecutors would grant him one privilege, which was, that from the gallows he might be permitted to address them for one hour. "I had prepared myself for the occasion," said Mr. Brownlow, "and I intended to do the Southern Confederacy justice – to pronounce a high-wrought eulogy on the concern, from Jeff. Davis down to the smallest secession Devil among them."

The speaker thought that the Union sentiment of Eastern Tennessee had never abated one iota; that there were thousands of good Union men there, who would hail the approach of the Federal army with sincere joy. Gen. Jackson put down the rebellion of 1832, and, though this was a much more formidable uprising, he believed Abe Lincoln would subdue it. "My friends," said the orator, "the hanging must begin on the other side, this season, and I want to superintend it. You may think I speak harshly; but, after what I have seen and experienced among the rebels, how can I feel differently? I tell you, my hearers, I intend to go back to Tennessee, before long, under different circumstances from those under which I left the State. I want to go back in company with Gen. Fremont; I want a big war-horse, and a military suite, and the General and myself will ride down among those rebels, and, if you will excuse my apparent egotism, I do believe the scoundrels had rather see the Devil coming after them!"

After paying his compliments to Mason and Slidell, both of whom he knows personally, the Parson remarked that, "When this rebellion is put down, England and France will have to behave themselves, or we will thrash them both."

The speaker then thanked the citizens for the kind reception given him, and closed his speech with the promise that they should hear from him again in the evening. He took his seat amid a storm of applause, that emanated from the hearts as well as the mouths of his hearers.

Gen. S. F. Cary, of Cincinnati, being present, was loudly called for, and, taking the stand, proceeded to deliver one of the most thrillingly eloquent speeches to which we have ever listened. We have not room for even a summary of this production, but those who are familiar with the celebrated Cincinnati orator will appreciate the meaning of our observation, when we say it was one of Gen. Cary's happiest efforts.

After he had closed, Frank Lumbard was called upon for a song, and, mounting the stand, gave, in his best style, "The Star Spangled Banner," the entire assemblage joining in the swelling chorus, with splendid effect. The crowd then filed out past the President's desk, where sat the Parson, each individual grasping his extended hand with evident emotions of sympathy and kindly regard. Mr. Brownlow and party soon after repaired to the Sherman House, where they partook of a sumptuous dinner.

In the afternoon the party made a visit to Camp Douglas, and spent some time in making observations among the very class of men from whose clutches the Parson had so recently escaped.