The noted Tennessee pioneer and Cumberland Presbyterian itinerant preacher Joseph Brown developed a reputation for exhibiting the jerks during the Great Revival. As Brown acknowledged in his autobiography, he struggled with the bodily exercises throughout his life. In this 1877 article, Columbia, Tennessee, newspaper editor J. J. McDaniel recalled his early childhood memories of witnessing Brown’s jerking fits during an 1823 camp meeting. Hurricane Switch was the name of an early nineteenth-century settlement in Maury County, near Columbia, Tennessee. Click here for excerpts from Brown’s “Biographical Sketch.”
Hurricane Switch Pioneer Items.
During the early settlement of Maury County, probably no man occupied a more prominent position than Col. Joseph Brown, not only among the pioneers was this so, but he was spared during a long life of piety and usefulness among their descendants. Much has been written concerning his captivity among the Indians, also as an Indian fighter, and during the organization of the civil government. But much will never be known, till we see as we are seen, and know as we are known.
Col. Tom Crawford gave a thrilling narrative of the escape of himself and Col. Brown, from captivity among the Indians. After their escape they rambled at night for many miles, lost their direction, and feared they might return right into the Indian encampment, so they concluded to pass the night in a tree-top. Before lying down, Col. Brown proposed they should return thanks for their fortunate escape. They got on their knees—Crawford felt pretty thankful—and Col. Brown commenced praying: the longer he prayed the louder his voice; then he got happy, and made the words ring, till Crawford expected every moment to see the Indians make their appearance. He said it seemed to him the praying and shouting could be heard two miles; his faith not being so strong, he slipped down, and wandered off in the dark, till he found another tree-top, where he remained till day. He ever after, even in advanced life, said, “Others may doubt the piety of Col. Brown, but for himself, he had seen him tried where there would be no false acting.” It is known they finally reached the settlements. This is only the recollection of what a small boy heard some fifty years ago.
About 1822–3, when a very small boy, I attended a camp-meeting at McCain’s. Only a few tents were then built; some camped in covered wagons, some under cloth tends, others in pens covered with cloth. Among the tents built, was the one so long occupied by Col. Brown, and there I first saw him under religious excitement, and first heard that involuntary “Oh!” accompanied by the spasmodic “jerk,” forward and downward, and as he arose erect, “My Redeemer” was uttered in a lower voice. Those who once heard him, can recollect the effects and intonation of his voice, which a pen-picture cannot render intelligible. Some years before, those peculiar, involuntary and spasmodic exercises known as “jerks,” had been very common; at that day, they were more rare, and continued to effect Col. Brown likely through life.
At that camp-meeting, a very large crowd was in attendance, a great number under religious excitement, the altar was crowded with many shouting. One tall young woman was seized with a spasmodic shout: she jumpped up, and commenced swaying her body backwards, forwards, several men holding her to prevent her injuring herself on the benches. With every muscle rigid, she swayed backwards, and forwards, and such sudden “jerks,” as her head went back, as to cause long flowing hair to crack like a whip. The swaying the body, the spasmodic “jerks,” and her hair switching like a whip, the rigid features, the increasing purple in the face, the graduate exhaustion of nature, her sinking in the altar like an infant,—all these are now indellibly photographed on my recollection. No pen-picture can convey an adequate conception of her involuntary, and purely religious exercises, and the surrounding excited crowd.
Another young woman bounced up, shouting, and reared around extremely for some time, when she looked around at her beau, and said, “Will nobody hold me?”
Among the negroes recovered by Col. Brown, of those captured by the Indians was a boy named “Chow.” He grew up quite a tall man, of decided mixed Indian appearance. Through Col. Brown’s leniency he was allowed great liberty; the fact is, he was nearer free than his master. From his Indian appearance, and roving disposition he became a noted character, and was recognized as a notoriously, very hard case.
Living with Col. Brown, was a man named Beanland, who, for some cause, got into a settlement with Chow; then matters had progressed to an interesting point, and just when the excitement was greatest, Col. Brown made his appearance. “My Redeemer, Chowee,—put it to him Beanland,”—that is the saying the boys started; more than likely they made it up. However, it took the rounds. Among the school boys at play, they managed to bring it in very often. Should one plump the middle man from taw, he would jump up, crack his heels together, and “My Redeemer, Chowee—put it to him Beanland,” popped out like a byword.
Soon after the poor-house was located where it now is, Col. Brown kept a regular appointment on Sunday evenings, when he preached to the afflicted poor. Many of the neighbors were regular in attendance on his ministry. No matter how inclement the weather, from rain, snow, intense cold, or frozen roads, Col. Brown would not forego his visit and services to the unfortunately poor.
When quite a small boy, but little removed from infancy, I attended those services. A pulpit was improvised by his taking a stand back of a chair. He enchained my attention, and with intense anxiety, I watched his every movement, expecting every “jerk” to see him job his eye out on the top of the chair post.
During her long confinement, after my mother was paralyzed, he called frequently to pray with, and for her. At her request, that good old man (who was instant in season, and out of season) would take a text, with only herself and family for an audience, and on his knees beside her trundle bed, preached direct into her best hearing hear; (for she had become very deaf) and there on his knees would he labor, preach, and shout, until those two old pioneers (who had known each other so long and well) would receive a foretaste of the joys of the blessed abode; and for days after, she enjoyed a serene cheerfulness, even under her long continued affliction.
The latter years of his life, Col. Brown passed with his daughter, in Giles. During the war, and when a raid was made on the stock, a soldier captured Col. Brown’s pony. The good old man, then nearly a 100 years old, went out and took his pony by the bridle, and appealed to the soldier to leave him, his gentle pony, the only animal he could ride. The soldier rudely pushed him aside, and cursed him. The old man remarked, “Young man, that pony will never do you any good.” Were his words prophetic? Did he speak from inspiration, as Noah, Jacob, and other Patriarchs did? The next day that soldier met a sudden and violent death: that a fearful retribution!
Source
“Hurricane Switch Pioneer Items,” [Columbia, Tenn.] Herald and Mail, Apr. 20, 1877, supplement, [5].
