Your friends,
Charles G. Smith,
John Morrison,
F. M. Burton,
Robt. S. Northcutt,
Saml. Davis.
Nashville, Oct. 13th, 1855.
Messrs. Smith, Morrison, and others:
Gentlemen:—Your note requesting me to publish the substance of my remarks on the Square, last Tuesday night, has been received, and I would have replied sooner, but for my absence at Shelbyville. I have now made the same speech at Clarksville, Nashville, and Shelbyville; and my only regrets are, that my engagements prevent me from delivering the same speech at every point in this State, where Gov. Johnson held me up as the "High Priest of the Order," and argued therefrom the want of respectability for the Order. In addition to your request, I have had verbal applications from many gentlemen to publish my remarks—gentlemen who have been mild and moderate throughout their political course. I shall, therefore, comply with your request and theirs, at my earliest convenience.
I hold that no man's position in life should shield him from the rebukes he may merit by his bad conduct; and as for the present Governor of Tennessee, his wholesale abuse of the American party, towards whose members, without a single exception, he has indulged in language which ought not to be tolerated within the precincts of Billingsgate, no epithet is too low, too degrading, or disgraceful, to pay him back in.
Respectfully, &c.,
W. G. BROWNLOW.
Fellow-Citizens:—The occasion which has called you together to-night, is the special appointment of our young friend, Mr. Crowe, to whose eloquence we have all listened with pleasure. I have made no appointment to speak here; nor have I prompted the loud and long calls made upon me, this evening, by this large Nashville audience. I shall speak to you; but not upon the issues of the late canvass, nor upon those of the approaching canvass of 1856. I will discuss Andrew Johnson and E. G. Eastman; and if they are in the assembly, I hope they will come forward and take seats on this stand, that I may have the pleasure of looking them full in the face, as I denounce them in unmeasured terms: which is my purpose to-night, let the consequences be what they may!
On a memorable night in August, after it was understood that Andrew Johnson was reëlected to the office of Governor, a procession was formed in Knoxville, composed of the worst materials in that young and growing city—such as drunken, red-mouthed Irishmen, lousy Germans, and insolent negroes, with three or four men of respectable pretensions thrown in, to exercise a controlling influence over these bad materials. This riotous mob halted in front of my dwelling, in East Knoxville, and groaned and sang for my especial benefit: all which was natural enough—as they had triumphed over me in the election of a Governor. I took no offence at their rejoicing over the election of Gov. Johnson, as I told them; and for the reason, that I knew them to be of that class of men who would actually need the exercise of the pardoning power, at the hands of the present Governor, to release them from the penitentiary, before his present term of service would expire!
From my humble dwelling, this beautiful procession marched to the Coleman House, on Gay street, yelling like devils, and insulting the inmates of every house they passed. "Huzza for Andy McJohnson!" exclaimed one. "Three cheers for Andy O'Johnson!" exclaimed another. While, to cap the climax—"Well done, my Johnsing and the White Bastard," (meaning Basis,) exclaimed a drunken negro! Halting in front of the Coleman House, the Governor elect mounted a goods box, and under feelings of great excitement, hatred, and malice, delivered a speech abusive of the whole American party, excepting none, in coarse, bitter language, in a style peculiarly his own—adapted alone to the foul precincts of Billingsgate—rounding his periods with a diabolical and infernal grin, alone suited to a display of oratory by a land pirate!
I reported this slanderous speech—not in as offensive style—as it was delivered; for his looks and grins no man can report on paper. I also wrote the substance of what he said to Major Donelson, in a letter, of which I shall have something more to say before I leave this stand. Just here, I will repeat what the Governor did say, and what I reported him to have said in my paper. I wish this large audience to hear me distinctly, and to recollect the points I make; for I shall wind up on the Governor and his miserable tool, Eastman, with a degree of severity you have not been accustomed to, but which shall be warranted by the facts in each case.
Gov. Johnson said this new party of self-styled Americans professed to have organized with a view to purify and reform the old political parties. A beautiful set, said he, to reform! The Order of Know Nothings was composed of the worst men in the Whig and Democratic parties. As a sample of these men, he pointed out Andrew J. Donelson, by name—exclaiming as often as twice, Who is Andrew J. Donelson? He is a soured, office-seeking, disappointed politician, who has been kicked out of the Democratic party. To illustrate his views more fully, he told the crowd to imagine a large gang of counterfeiters out there! and an equally large gang of horse-thieves out yonder! Take from these two companies the worst men in their ranks, form a third party of these, and you have a representation of this Know Nothing party. This was a beautiful party to propose reform, or to speak of other parties being corrupt! He was interrupted repeatedly; and I think I may safely say, among hands, they gave him the d——d lie fifty times! James M. Davis, a respectable mechanic, asked him if he would say that to Major Donelson's face? He replied, that he heard the hissing of an adder, or a goose, and went through with certain stereotyped phrases you have all heard from his lips. This call upon him by Mr. Davis was not named in my newspaper report, nor in my letter to Major Donelson. Indeed, I did not anticipate a denial of his abuse.