A Scene from Richmond
President Breckinridge rode towards the house, accompanied by Secretary Davis. He was thin and haggard, but remained an erect, attractive figure on horseback. “President Breckinridge was the handsomest man I ever saw”, commented one of the ladies of the house, now serving as a nurse for the Confederate soldiers. Their house, located at the outskirts of the Confederate capital, had been turned into a makeshift hospital, and was now filled with wounded soldiers. The South had little in the way of medical supplies due to the blockade imposed by the Philadelphia Tyrant, but the soldiers were in good cheer. They had just turned away the invader again, and Lincoln’s defeat and with it their independence seemed closer now. That’s when the President himself appeared, and pain and sadness evaporated in favor of celebration and jubilee. One soldier even seemed to forget his wounded leg and jumped to his feet to holler a “hurrah for Johnny Breck!”
Breckinridge took his hat off and saluted his troops. “My brave boys!,” he said, “I’ve come to thank you for your patriotism and bravery. It is to you that the Confederacy owes the confident hope in victory that will impel us to a glorious place among the independent nations of the world.” Breckinridge waited a few moments while the resounding cheers that had started in response quieted down, and then continued. “The thanks of the Chief Executive of the Confederacy pale in comparison to the gratitude your immortal courage has entitled you to, but I hope you will find in them a bereavement for your pain. Rest, my brave boys, you have done enough.” But the soldiers would have none of it. “No, Father John!” they cried, “there’s still fight in us!” Breckinridge just smiled, and then got off his horse and went into the house to give a more personal thanks to the ailing troops.
Miss Elizabeth Hopkins, the young lady who was struck by the President’s handsome appearance, would never forget Breckinridge’s tender concern for the troops. “The President was the noblest, most generous person in the continent,” she wrote later with absolute certainty of the truth of her words. “He loved us and cared for us like a father, and we could do no less than love him fully in return,” commented a soldier for his part. No matter how tired he was, Breckinridge devoted a few minutes to every soldier, asking about their families, hearing their tales, and trying to do all he could to lighten their sorrows. A Kentucky soldier, who had rallied to a Kentucky pro-secession militia and then became part of the ”Orphan Brigade”, was flabbergasted when the President didn’t just remember him from those months trying to get Kentucky to secede, but recalled his name.
During the visit the Secretary of War, Jefferson Davis, too chatted with the soldiers. Despite his role as an officer working mostly behind the scenes, the soldiers and the people knew him as one of the cornerstones of the Breckinridge regime. In contrast to the beloved Breckinridge, Davis was never truly loved by the people of the Confederacy. “That lay largely in the nature of the man,” explains William C. Davis, “for not knowing how to inspire popularity, he never courted it, instead disdaining such pandering to the masses as beneath his dignity.” Yet, Davis’ commitment to the cause and his loyalty to Breckinridge inspired admiration in many Confederates. As the Secretary of War he was a visible leader, his patriotism and sheer determination inspiring to the troops. And so, even if the cheers for Jeff Davis weren’t as loud, they were just as sincere.
After the President retired from the house and mounted his horse, he and the Secretary rode around. A resident who observed the scene would never forget “the graceful forms and dignified countenances of the two horsemen riding side by side.” It was in those quiet moments on horseback that Davis showed his softer side, a side that could be gentlemanly and even charming. Davis was never a good bureaucrat, his temper irritable, his personality aloof, his demeanor cold. This was often contrasted negatively to Breckinridge’s easy charm and grace. But on the saddle Davis always seemed to recover his spirits, and he and Breckinridge talked freely of literature, horses, horticulture, and wildlife. Whatever the differences between the two men, they had grown to trust and respect each other. According to Varina Davis, she never saw her husband in happier moods than when he was able to forget the war and just enjoy a chat on horseback with Breckinridge.
The two men then stopped in front of a small house. Despite the sorry state of the building, the owner too had accepted wounded soldiers and was doing her best to tend to them. Other soldiers were around, eating their meager supplies of parched green corn. The soldiers let out a cheer to their two leaders, who acknowledged them with a wave of their hats. The President then descended from his horse and offered a gentlemanly greeting to the lady of the house, who, obviously exhausted, was nonetheless still sewing socks at the same time as she bounced a baby on her knee. When she saw Breckinridge, she stopped her work and held up her infant. “He is named for you”, she said. A touched Breckinridge then took a handful of coins from his pocket and offered them to the woman. “Oh, I couldn’t!”, she begged off, but the Chief Executive insisted, exclaiming that he didn’t need the money and that “seeing any of my people suffering pains me more than a stab or a shot could”. John Breckinridge Stokes would die a year later, in May 1865, during the post-war famine.
Walking to the backyard, the President saw two young boys playing marbles. Someone then suggested that they should join in the game. “At once the president and the secretary of war were on their knees,” William C. Davis tells, “marbles in hand, spending an hour at a spirited contest amid peals of laughter.” It was clear that in that moment, even if for a little while, Breckinridge and Davis had been able to forget their cares and sorrows, leaving aside their seriousness and dignity. Perhaps, as they played a game they surely enjoyed during their own boyhoods, they remembered better and easier times. After the game concluded, the President sat down, leaning against a tree. Davis and the soldiers quickly surrounded him, and Breckinridge took out his lunch, some biscuits, and shared them with the men. He then started to recount some stories. The two young boys soon crawled into his lap, and Breckinridge remained with them for a couple more hours before duty recalled him to Richmond. When Mary Breckinridge saw her husband, she thought he was the happiest he’d been in a long time, but there was an unmistakable note of sadness underneath his smile. “It’s as if Mr. Breckinridge thought that this could not last,” she mused, “as if we’re approaching the end.”