Gov. Morton then introduced Mr. Brownlow, who spoke at length of the
causeless character of the rebellion, and its disastrous effects, and
was frequently cordially cheered by his large audience. He gave an
account of his ancestry, and showed how they had all been engaged in the
service of the country, and always true to its flag and its principles.
He said he had been called a traitor by R. Barnwell Rhett, of South
Carolina. "Rhett" said he, "was named R. Barnwell Smith, but the Smiths
being all Tories during the Revolution, he was allowed by a legislative
act to call himself Rhett. He call _me_ a traitor," said the iron old
Parson indignantly, "when his illustrious ancestors were hunted by
Marion through all the mosquito swamps of South Carolina." (Uproarious
cheers and laughter.) He commented at considerable length on the
rebellion and its leaders, and declared, with great emphasis, that "if
the issue was to be made between the Union without slavery, and slavery
without the Union, he was for the Union and let slavery perish. (Great
applause.) Let every institution die first, and until the issue was made
between the Union and the religion of Jesus Christ, he was for the
Union." (Tremendous cheers.) We have not space to report his whole
speech, which was considerably over an hour in length, and was listened
to with close and intense attention by all, and we must content
ourselves with a report of the outrages practiced on the Union men,
which he detailed with impressive eloquence and pathos.
In May last the South began to pour a stream as hot and ugly as hell
itself from the Gulf States through Eastern Tennessee, towards Richmond
and Manassas, and Norfolk and Lynchburgh, in the shape of a rebel
soldiery armed with side knives and tomahawks, drinking gallons untold
of bad whisky, and boasting largely and savagely enough of the things
they should do in Washington. (Laughter.) I had an old banner, the stars
and stripes, floating from the top of my house, on Main street, in
Knoxville, Tennessee, in a conspicuous part of the city. They began to
come to pay their respects to us--frequently a regiment at a time. Whole
regiments of "wharf rats" from New Orleans and Mobile, as ugly and
disgusting as they were vicious, would come at once, now and then, to
"give old Brownlow a turn," as they expressed it. They would, _en
masse_, come across the river on the bridge, surround my house, yell,
throw stones, blackguard my wife and family, dare me to come out of
doors, and I now and then accepted their invitations and made them the
best bow I could. I have, time and again, gone out and given them very
frankly and unreservedly my settled opinion of the whole concern, from
Jeff. Davis down, assuring them that my scorn and contempt for them and
the Southern Confederacy was unutterable, and then, making them the
best bow I could, I would go back into the house and leave them to yell
and groan around the house till they saw proper to quit. This course
they have steadily kept up all the year. And yet all of this time I was
reading in the papers of Charleston, Savannah and Richmond, that the
Confederate army was composed of the flower and promise of the Southern
States. I told my wife that if those miserable, God-forsaken whelps that
were screaming like devils around our house almost half of every day
were the _flower_ of the Southern Confederacy, my prayer would be--God
save us from the _rabble_.
On the 6th day of November last we had an election in the Southern
States for President and Vice President of the Southern Confederacy,
with only two candidates in the field--Jeff. Davis and little Alex.
Stevens of Georgia. And when we, of Eastern Tennessee came to vote at
that election we did not vote at all, but we positively and utterly
refused to have anything at all to do with it. The sheriffs, who were
Union men, refused to open the polls, or to hold an election, thus
giving the candidates the cold shoulder, and manifesting our contempt
for the whole concern. And, gentlemen, you cannot fail to be surprised
when I announce to you the fact that the great State of Tennessee,
casting not less than 200,000 votes as her ordinary vote, gave Jeff.
Davis and his colleague in villainy a miserable vote of 25,000. Those
two men are to-day holding their offices by the vote of a miserably lean
minority of the people of the State of Tennessee. Tennessee was driven
out of the Union at the point of the bayonet. The miserable rebel
soldiery were stationed at the polls, wherever a poll was opened, with
orders to prevent every "damned Union-shrieker" that might appear from
depositing his vote. We had thousands of good Union men, men of good
morals, members of churches, Methodists, Baptists and others, who had no
desire to be involved in difficulty, and who saw that nothing could be
accomplished by attempting to exercise their rights, and who said to
themselves "we will stay at home and let the thing go by default." Let
me tell you, ladies and gentlemen, if I know anything at all of any
State it is the State of Tennessee, and I want you to mark well and
treasure up in your minds the prediction I am about to make to you. I
predict to-night that when Governor Johnson shall appoint a day (which
he will do before long,) upon which the people of the State of Tennessee
shall decide at the polls whether they shall come back again beneath the
stars and stripes, when Confederate bayonets shall be driven completely
out of the State, which they will be soon, the "Volunteer State" will
come back into the Union by a majority of 50,000 votes. (Cheers.)
There is also, at this very time, a powerful Union sentiment in each of
the other Southern States. These Southern traitors may talk to you about
the "unanimity" of feeling in regard to the war, but let me assure you
that it is all false. There is no unanimity in the Southern States.
Louisiana never voted herself out of the Union. The wretches who were in
power there smuggled the vote. The truth is that secession was _lost_ in
Louisiana. Georgia barely went out of the Union. Alabama was forced out
through the treason of Jerry Clemens and others. The "Old North State"
will gladly come back again. The Old Dominion, what shall I say of her?
God bless her while he curses her leading politicians. Virginia is about
ready to come back. She is just about sick enough now to be willing to
take medicine.
But whilst it is true that there is no unanimity in the Southern
Confederacy in regard to the war, there was one remarkable instance of
unanimity that occurred in Tennessee just about the time that we people
of the Eastern portion of the State refused to vote. By a strange freak
of Nature, or Providence, or something else, all the railroad bridges
between Bristol and Chattanooga took fire all at once, and burned down,
one night about eleven o'clock. I was not concerned in the matter, and
can't say who did it. I thought to myself that the affair had been most
beautifully planned and executed, and enjoyed it considerably in my
quiet way. (Laughter.)
It was but a little while afterward that the Legislature passed a law to
disarm all the Union men of the State. Of course I was called on, in
common with the rest. They did not find much to seize, however, at my
house. They got a double-barreled shot gun, a Sharp's rifle, and a
revolver. That was all the weapons I had. Then they commenced waiting
upon all the private families. They took all the good horses that
belonged to Union men. They entered their dwellings, threw off the
feather-beds from the bedsteads, took all the woolen blankets and
coverlets they could get hold of. They broke open chests and drawers,
and pocketed what money and jewelry they could find in them. They
carried away bacon, drove away fat hogs and beeves, and robbed the
people of every species of moveable property.
They next began to arrest them and throw them into jail. Nor was that
all. Many of them were shot down upon the streets, or in the fields, in
cold blood. I could give names in abundance, and dates, and places. I
speak not from hearsay, but from my own personal knowledge. A man would
be quietly about his work in his fields, and some one would point him
out as a Union man, and the infernal rebel cavalry would shoot him down
as a "damned Union-shrieking Abolitionist."--Others were stretched
lengthwise upon logs of wood, raised a short distance from the ground so
as to admit of their arms being tied underneath it, and were then
stripped naked, and almost literally cut to pieces. And afterwards, when
those men would come into courts of justice, and pull off their shirts
and display the marks of the inhuman treatment they had suffered, the
Judges upon the bench would coolly inform them that these were
revolutionary times, and that they could give no redress for such
grievances. Every prominent jail in East Tennessee was filled with Union
men.
Take the case of Andy Johnson. He is a man against whom I have fought
for twenty-five years with all my might, pouring hot shot into him
continually, both on the stump and through the columns of my paper, and
he in turn giving me as good as I sent. He and I are to-day upon the
most amicable terms. We, the people of East Tennessee, have merged every
other issue into this great issue of the Union. (Loud applause.) You
ought to do so in Indiana. You should never touch one of your aspiring
politicians with a ten-foot pole unless he is totally and
unconditionally opposed to this infernal rebellion. Where would I see a
man who is base enough to sympathise with secession before I would vote
for him for office? I would send him where, in the language of Milton,
"Cold performs the effect of fire,"
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.