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.
* * * * *