A VISIT TO PARSON BROWNLOW.
THE Confederates had been driven back from Chattanooga and Knoxville, and the lines of railroad travel had been re-established. I had occasion at that time to go to Knoxville. The journey was a dangerous one; but the mission was important, and I took the chances. I was delighted to learn, after reaching Knoxville, that Parson Brownlow, the hero of East Tennessee, was at home. It was afterward arranged that I should meet him at his own house.
He dwelt in an unpretentious, two-story frame structure, having a little portico in front. Firmly attached to the little portico was a tall flagstaff, from which floated a large Union flag. This flag had been put up at the beginning of the war, and had never been hauled down. Parson Brownlow was tall, lithe, and sinewy in form. His hair was black and abundant. He was a quiet talker while conversing on ordinary subjects; but when the war, the causes which led to it, the plotting and scheming by which the loyal sentiment of East Tennessee was silenced, was the theme, his eyesflashed fire, his wit, sarcasm, and denunciation flowed in electric currents. His sentences were short, terse, and emphatic. One could better understand, looking into his face when he straightened himself up to his full height and poured out his torrent of accusations, why men whom he charged with treason and falsehood, and arraigned before God and men, should fall back in fear and shame.
He pointed out to me the little prison, with its iron-barred windows, in which he was for a time confined as a prisoner. The jail stood on the bank of the River Holstein, and he was put into a cell which overlooked the river and forest beyond. For a time his enemies had possession of the town, and he was placed where he could see nothing that was going on, and it was well. Many of his neighbors who had assumed to be loyal brought out Confederate flags, which they had kept concealed in flour-barrels, and flung them to the breeze. But there was one Union flag which did not come down, and that was the broad standard which floated over the little portico of Parson Brownlow’s house.
Mrs. Brownlow, a quiet, lovely little woman, added a word in explanation now and then; but when her boys were spoken of, she sighed heavily as though her heartstrings would snap asunder. And yet she had, in defence of the flag, shown uncommon courage. There were only two childrenat home; one a young lady, the other a girl of about ten or twelve years. We all stood out on the little portico, and Miss Brownlow described to me her heroic defence of the flag which was waving above us. She was a beautiful and stately woman; and as she stood there that day describing the scene, when with drawn pistol she challenged the men sent to take down that flag, she was the most perfect personification of the Goddess of Liberty I ever saw. As her eyes flashed fire, and her words rang out clear, full, and emphatic, we could well understand why the men retired.
The flag was watched and defended until a Union force came to their relief. The little force advanced carefully, until the head of the column reached the crest of the hill which environs the place. Looking out over the town, which was quietly sleeping in the gray of the morning, they saw among the Confederate flags the Stars and Stripes waving from one pole. It was like an inspiration. They made an impetuous charge, and captured the town. The flag over Parson Brownlow’s house never came down.
The influence of Parson Brownlow on Tennessee, and especially East Tennessee, still lives, and will live for ages. He was a man of great soul, of intense convictions, and of courage equal to his convictions. If he had been a coward, his blood would have watered the soil of Tennessee. Buthis courage, his wonderful mastery of the English language, and the fearful majesty of his presence, cowed his enemies; and those who had planned to take his life were glad to send him away out of their presence.
My visit to Parson Brownlow, his burning words, and the story of the flag, can never be forgotten. He was by far the ablest man Tennessee has ever produced.