One reason, perhaps, for his removal to the jail has not been given by himself or his friends. As I have said, the Brownlows were a peculiar people—"devilish peculiar," in fact.
While we can all admire the pluck and spirit of the family, which resented the presence of armed Rebel soldiers on their own door step—their castle—one can not help but feel that a little discretion, mixed up with their abundant spirit, would have brought out more satisfactory results.
The Parson's combativeness must have been in the blood of the family, as it was not confined to himself and his sons, but was exhibited while I was there, in a striking manner, by one of his daughters. For some fancied or real offense on the part of one of the guards, who was stationed at her father's door with a loaded gun in his hands, Miss Brownlow, after deliberately giving the soldier and his officer "a piece of her mind," coolly walked up to the guard and vigorously and repeatedly slapped him in the face, and kept up her attack until the man actually backed down off the side of the porch, while the officer of the guard, who was with him, hastily scrambled down on the other side, leaving her in possession of the entrance to the castle.
The incident had a widespread notoriety at the time, when the facts reached the North; the affair was widely published throughout the country with many exaggerations. I did not witness this affair, but gathered from the Misses Craig and others what is probably the true story.
My confinement to the house of my good friends, the Craigs, though sick and sometimes suffering, was made to me the most agreeable two weeks of my trip South, all through the kind care and attention of the family. Miss Maggie and myself seemed to be nearest in accord in our sentiments, not only of the war, but maybe of love and peace and, through her pleasant friendship, I was enabled to lose, in a manner, some of my interest in the far-away Capitola.
By the exercise of some diplomacy, necessitating a good deal of talking and some shameful lying to a young and innocent girl, I induced Miss Maggie and her sister to take me down to the Brownlow house, as a visitor who was desirous of meeting the now celebrated family.
I did not dare to intimate to Miss Maggie that I sympathized deeply with the cause of the Brownlows; in fact, I never admitted to a living soul, not one—not even after my return from my trips—the true character and purpose of the undertaking. An elder sister, having some doubts about the Brownlows' probable reception of a visitor in a gray blouse uniform, thought it advisable to arrange the matter beforehand, and sent the little girl around to the house one day with a polite note, stating that a Maryland soldier desired the pleasure of their acquaintance.
The mother looked with some disfavor on the proceeding, but, of course, Maggie and I accomplished our purpose, and the note was returned with a verbal answer to "Come ahead." This was not exactly as encouraging a response as we had hoped for, but, after a little fun from the mother and older sister over our probable reception, they arranged among themselves for a short call during the afternoon.
I was gathering information; and, feeling secure through my supposed sympathy with Mr. Brownlow, I had not the least hesitancy about meeting him personally; I did not consider the family failings at all. I knew, too, that I should soon leave there for home—my mind was already settled on that—and I could travel now without the fear of meeting any persons who had known me at Manassas, Richmond, or Pensacola. My plans were to reach the Union lines at the nearest point, which was then Cumberland Gap.
As I have tried to explain, the Brownlows' residence was just around the corner, so that it was like a neighborly "run in for a little while" for the Misses Craig to escort their guest around to their house that afternoon.