Twenty Years of Congress, Vol. 1 / From Lincoln to Garfield, with a Review of the Events Which Led to the Political Revolution of 1860

by James Gillespie Blaine

The Oregon senator, with his ardent nature, and his impulse to take part in every conflict, had raised a regiment of volunteers principally composed of men from the Pacific coast. It was known as the California Regiment, and was encamped near Washington.**** On the 1st of August, while performing the double and somewhat anomalous duty of commanding his regiment and representing Oregon in the Senate, Mr. Baker entered the chamber in the full uniform of a Colonel in the United-States army. He laid his sword upon his desk and sat for some time listening to the debate. He was evidently impressed by the scene of which he was himself a conspicuous feature. Breckinridge took the floor shortly after Baker appeared, and made a speech, of which it is fair criticism to say that it reflected in all respects the views held by the members of the Confederate Congress then in session at Richmond. Colonel Baker evidently grew restive under the words of Mr. Breckinridge. His face was aglow with excitement, and he sprang to the floor when the senator from Kentucky took his seat. His reply, abounding in denunciation and invective, was not lacking in the more solid and convincing argument. He rapidly reviewed the situation, depicted the character of the Rebellion, described the position of Breckinridge, and passionately asked, "What would have been thought, if, in another Capitol, in a yet more martial age, a senator, with the Roman purple flowing from his shoulders, had risen in his place, surrounded by all the illustrations of Roman glory, and declared that advancing Hannibal was just, and that Carthage should be dealt with on terms of peace? What would have been thought, if, after the battle of Cannae, a senator had denounced every levy of the Roman people, every expenditure of its treasure, every appeal to the old recollections and the old glories?"

Mr. Fessenden, who sat near Baker, responded in an undertone "He would have been hurled from the Tarpeian Rock." Baker, with his aptness and readiness, turned the interruption to still further indictment of Breckinridge: "Are not the speeches of the senator from Kentucky," he asked, "intended for disorganization? are they not intended to destroy our zeal? are they not intended to animate our enemies? Sir, are they not words of brilliant, polished treason, even in the very Capitol of the Republic?"

It is impossible to realize the effect of the words so eloquently pronounced by the Oregon senator. In the history of the Senate, no more thrilling speech was ever delivered. The striking appearance of the speaker in the uniform of a soldier, his superb voice, his graceful manner, all united to give to the occasion an extraordinary interest and attraction.

The reply of Mr. Breckinridge was tame and ineffective. He did not repel the fierce characterizations with which Colonel Baker had overwhelmed him. He did not stop to resent them, though he was a man of unquestioned courage. One incident of his speech was grotesquely amusing. He was under the impression that the suggestion in regard to the Tarpeian Rock had been made by Mr. Sumner, and he proceeded to denounce the senator from Massachusetts with bitter indignation. Mr. Sumner looked surprised, but having become accustomed to abuse from the South, said nothing. When next day it was shown by the Globe that Mr. Fessenden was the offender, Mr. Breckinridge neither apologized to Mr. Sumner, nor attacked the senator from Maine. The first was manifestly his duty. From the second he excused himself for obvious reasons. After his experience with Baker, Breckinridge evidently did not court a conflict with Fessenden.

The course of Mr. Breckinridge was in direct hostility to the prevailing opinion of his State. The Legislature of Kentucky passed a resolution asking that he and his colleague, Lazarus W. Powell, should resign their seats, and, in the event of refusal, that the Senate would investigate their conduct, and, if it were found to be disloyal, expel them. Mr. Breckinridge did not wait for such an investigation. In the autumn of 1861 he joined the Rebellion, and was welcomed by the leaders and the people of the Confederacy with extravagant enthusiasm. His espousal of their cause was considered by them to be as great an acquisition as if a fresh army corps had been mustered into their service. His act called forth the most bitter denunciation throughout the North, and among the loyal people of Kentucky. He had not the excuse pleaded by so many men of the South, that he must abide by the fortunes of his States, and the worst interpretation was placed upon his presence at the July session of Congress.

Among the earliest acts at the next session was the expulsion of Mr. Breckinridge from the Senate. It was done in a manner which marked the full strength of the popular disapprobation of his course. The senators from the rebellious States had all been expelled at the July session, but without the application of an opprobrious epithet. There had also been a debate as to whether expulsion of the persona, or a mere declaration that the seats were vacant, were the proper course to be pursued by the Senate. Andrew Johnson maintained the latter, and all the Democratic senators, except McDougall of California, voted with him. But in the case of Mr. Breckinridge there was not a negative vote—his own colleague Powell remaining silent in his seat while five Democratic senators joined in the vote for his expulsion. The resolution, draughted by Mr. Trumbull, was made as offensive as possible, curtly declaring that "John C. Breckinridge, the traitor, be and is hereby expelled from the Senate."

The mutation of public opinion is striking. Mr. Breckinridge lived to become a popular idol in Kentucky. Long before his death (which occurred in 1875 in his fifty-fourth year) he could have had any position in the gift of his State. If his political disabilities could have been removed, he would undoubtedly have returned to the Senate. His support did not come solely from those who had sympathized with the South, but included thousands who had been loyally devoted to the Union. He possessed a strange, fascinating power over the people of Kentucky,—as great as that which had been wielded by Mr. Clay, though he was far below Mr. Clay in intellectual endowment. No man gave up more than he when he united his fortunes with the seceding States. It was his sense of personal fidelity to the Southern men who had been faithful to him, that blinded him to the higher obligation of fidelity to country, and to the higher appreciation of self-interest which is inseparably bound up with duty. He wrecked a great career. He embittered and shortened a life originally devoted to noble aims, and in its darkest shadows filled with generous impulses.

The original aim of Kentucky was to preserve a position of neutrality in the impending contest was found to be impracticable. The Confederates were the first to violate it, by occupying that section of the State bordering upon the Mississippi River with a considerable force under the command of General Polk, the Episcopal Bishop of Louisiana. This was on the 4th of September. Two days later the Colonel of the Twenty-first Illinois Volunteers, who was in command at Cairo, took possession of Paducah. It was the first important step in a military career which fills the most brilliant pages in the military annals of our country. The name of the Illinois Colonel was Ulysses S. Grant.

EFFECT OF REBEL VICTORY AT BULL RUN.

The Confederate victory at Bull Run produced great effect throughout the South. The fall of Sumter had been a signal encouragement to those who had joined the revolt against the Union, but as no blood had been spilled, and as the garrison had been starved out rather than shelled out, there was a limit to enthusiasm over the result. But now a pitched battle had been fought within cannon sound of the National Capital, and the forces of the Union had been put to flight. Jefferson Davis had come from Richmond during the battle, and telegraphed to the Confederate Congress that the night had "closed upon a hard-fought field," but that the enemy were routed, and had "precipitately fled, abandoning a large amount of arms, knapsacks, and baggage;" that "too high praise cannot be bestowed upon the skill of the Confederate officers or the gallantry of all their troops;" that "the Confederate force was fifteen thousand, and the Union army was thirty-five thousand." He evidently knew the effect which these figures would have upon the pride of the South, and he did not at the moment stop to verify his statements. The actual force under McDowell was much less, that under Beauregard much greater, than Mr. Davis stated. McDowell was certainly outnumbered after General Johnston's army arrived on the field. If General Patterson, who was in command in the Shenandoah Valley, had been able to engage or detain Johnston, the fate of the day might have been different. But Johnston outgeneraled Patterson, and achieved what military genius always does,—he had his force in the right place at the right time.