1868 — A Last Hurrah

by Michiana Covenant | Aug 16, 2013 | Breckinridge

September 21, 2012

But R. J. Breckinridge was a contented and happy old man as well! Into the summer of 1868 he was lonely and miserable, but as I like to say, history never moves in the same direction for long! There were a number of changes in the summer and fall of 1868 that were conducive to his happiness:

1) While church affairs in Kentucky went from bad to worse (as the “rebel” Synod prepared to unite with the Southern Presbyterian Church), RJB was highly sought after as a speaker and writer in the Grant campaign that resulted in the election of Ulysses S. Grant as president of the United States. [General Grant also gave RJB’s son, Joseph, a six month leave of absence to take care of his late brother, Charley’s affairs]. Whether praised (in the Republican press), or damned (in the Democratic press), RJB was back in the limelight!

2) Speaking of Joseph, he married his late brother’s fiancee, Louise Dudley [Incidentally, Joseph’s eldest sister, Mary, who was supposed to have orchestrated the match, thought that Lou was the perfect soldier’s wife, because she didn’t seem to care whether she could match her skirt to her blouse]. Sister Sophy (in New York) howled that Lou would desecrate Charley’s memory by marrying his brother only 11 months after his death — but then in the next breath hoped that Joseph and Lou would come visit them when they passed through New York back to California!

3) Speaking of marriage, on November 5, 1868, RJB married for the third time. His new wife, Margaret Faulkner White, was 35 year old widow with small children of her own — but he needed someone who would take care of him, and she needed someone who would provide for her and her children. While all three of RJB’s surviving daughters commented to him about how “quite quite young” she was (Mary was now 40 years old, and did not quite relish the thought of calling a 35 year old “mother”), the children all agreed that he needed someone to look after him.

4) Speaking of looking after RJB, the person who seemed most afraid of the change (from what I can gather) was Betty Cowan. In my last note, I referred to RJB’s frustration with his domestic help. Betty Cowan had remained with him after all the other former slaves had left. In 1867 she had married, and her husband had persuaded her to leave RJB’s employ — but life for the freedmen in Kentucky was hard — and so Betty returned to keep house for the “old Doctor.” She was especially fond of John — and wrote to him often while he studied at Princeton. At least one of her letters betrays her fears that the new Mrs. Breckinridge would disrupt “her” house!

5) Perhaps most important of all was his reconciliation with Issa — Willie’s wife. From 1862-1868 there had been virtually no contact between them. Her bitterness towards her father-in-law (whom she viewed as the personification of the hated Yankees) and his patronizing attempts to contact her during the war had resulted in an equally bitter cold war that lasted long after the rest of the Breckinridge clan had reconciled. After two years of icy silence, Willie urged his father to reach out to Issa (since RJB had *never* seen Sophy — the daughter named after Willie’s mother — and had only seen Ella — now five years old — in the street). Charley’s death seems to have done something to soften RJB, and perhaps also Issa. His father replied that his silence toward Issa was not hostility, but simply the inability to communicate with a person who had rebuffed every effort he had ever made. A year later in September of 1868 Willie convinced Issa to take the children for a visit to RJB’s house, and after a few further pleasantries were exchanged, Issa invited RJB to stay for a week at their place in Lexington after RJB’s wedding, even referring to him as “dear Father” for the first time.

Finally — fully three years after the end of the War — the Breckinridge family was at peace with each other.

6) And last, but not least, in the summer of 1868 Danville Theological Seminary finally reopened its doors with the General Assembly’s blessing, and around a dozen students enrolled. RJB was back in the saddle, training pastors for the church he loved. (Admittedly, he almost immediately had one student try to leave due to his comment about the “ingratitude” of more than half of DTS’s graduates who now served in the “rebel” Synod that was seeking to align with the Southern General Assembly. One student admitted that *he* intended to serve in the southern church, and so sought a dismissal. RJB refused — suggesting that the student had misunderstood his comment…)

So…while as charmingly cantankerous as ever, by the end of 1868, RJB was as happy as he had been for many, many years.

1867 — An Old and Miserable Man

by Michiana Covenant | Aug 15, 2013 | Breckinridge

September 20, 2012

Robert J. Breckinridge (1800-1871) was a very lonely old man. He was committed to rebuilding Danville Theological Seminary after the Civil War — but his circle of friends was getting smaller and smaller. Nearly 3/4 of the members of the Synod of Kentucky wound up rejecting his attempt to keep the Synod in the Old School — as radicals and moderates joined together in uniting with the southern Presbyterian Church in 1869. Throughout the north he was respected and admired as the man who had kept Kentucky in the Union — but in Kentucky he was increasingly irrelevant. The only men who would come teach at his seminary were a handful of devoted followers whose career depended on him. But he had driven away most of Danville’s natural constituency, alienating most of Kentucky by his strong pro-Lincoln, pro-Union stance during the War (one of his many colorful nicknames was “the Reverend Maligner” — one that hurt the most was “the Political Parson” — since he was famous for *never* bringing politics into the pulpit — though he would spend the other six days of the week on the political stump!).

Further, Danville is around 40 miles from Lexington (where his daughter Mary, and his son William, lived). His eldest son, Robert, lived only a few miles away at Chilhowie, and practiced law in Danville — but besides crazy Anny (a demented former slave who simply wouldn’t leave) and an unreliable series of Irish and African servants, few of whom lasted more than a few weeks, his housekeeping was, as he put it, “rather an uphill business; and is likely to continue so – until the ‘darkies’ relent, or we get good enough to take ‘no thought what we shall eat, or what we shall drink.’”

Besides the eldest three, the rest of his children were spread around the country (reminding us that having family spread all over the country is as old as America). He had a daughter in New York, and a daughter in Maryland, as well as two sons in the army in Alabama and San Francisco and a son at Princeton college.

And then, in August of 1867, 23 year old Charles, the youngest son of his first wife, died of Yellow Fever, while serving in the army in Alabama. Charley was the one of Sophy’s children who had no memories of his mother (he was 6 months old when she died). His older sister, Mary, wet-nursed him when she was only sixteen, and then served as a surrogate mother for him.

Once again death had struck RJB. Two wives. Seven children. At least three grandchildren. Seven of his eight siblings by his 42nd birthday.

And now, at the age of 67, he was alone.

The Church and Politics — Civil War Style

by Michiana Covenant | Aug 10, 2013 | Breckinridge

September 19, 2012

I’ve spent the last couple days in the Library of Congress reading Breckinridge letters from 1866-1867. I usually find that the first day I work pretty slowly — and I read more carefully (before remembering on the second day that if I don’t make it through at least 5 volumes of correspondence a day, I won’t finish!!)

The major public event in Robert Jefferson Breckinridge’s life in 1866-1867 was the division of the Synod of Kentucky in the wake of the Civil War. The short version looks like this:
1–During the War, the Old School General Assembly had declared that secession involved the sin of treason, and so any ministers or members wishing to return to the Old School church from the Confederate states would have to repent of the sin of treason.
2–After the War, some Kentuckians (many of whom had fought for the Confederacy) objected to the General Assembly’s rule — and some filed a protest, entitled, “The Declaration & Testimony” (D&T).
3–When the General Assembly declared against the D&T, and determined that the Presbytery of Louisville had erred in adopting it, RJB was determined to prevent D&T adherents from remaining in the Synod of Kentucky.

The Presbyterian church in Kentucky was deeply divided. The lines fell largely between the pro-Confederate men (such as Stuart Robinson of Louisville) and the pro-Union men (such as RJB). Of course, Kentucky in 1866 was already deeply divided. It was very hard for Kentuckians to remember that ‘Union’ and ‘Confederate’ could still be one in Christ. Indeed, it is probably true that Presbyterianism in Kentucky never recovered from the Civil War. Ministers (including R. J. Breckinridge and Stuart Robinson, but by no means limited to them!) were so politically engaged throughout the war that when the war ended, they could no longer view themselves as brethren.

Over the last two days I read several letters written to RJB from pastors who had tried to minister to divided flocks — but failed. Many churches that were barely large enough to support a minister divided — their two ruling elders dividing the congregation. Many of the pastors left the state looking for a place to minister that would not be driven by politics.

To no one’s surprise, lawsuits followed. Who owned the property? In a curious twist, the lead lawyer defending the 2nd Presbyterian Church in Lexington (a Union-friendly church) was RJB’s Confederate son, Willie. Willie was cut to the heart at how deeply he had grieved his father by joining the Confederate Army, and so now (in 1867) he was determined to do everything in his power (consistent with his convictions) to demonstrate his love and loyalty to his father.

The mutually destructive course of Kentucky Presbyterians in the 1860s demonstrates how deeply the church had become enmeshed in the politics of the day. RJB would have been appalled at what the Presbyterian Church became in the 20th century (to say nothing of the 21st century!) — but he contributed significantly to its cultural and political captivity. When the church forgets that we are one regardless of our political differences, we are doomed.

1861 — The Travails of Kentucky

by Michiana Covenant | Aug 8, 2013 | Breckinridge

March 22, 2011

Right now I am reading about the travails of Kentucky in 1860-1861. With the election of Abraham Lincoln in 1860 (over RJ’s nephew, John C. Breckinridge), and the secession of South Carolina, the question for Kentucky was whether to join the Confederacy to preserve slavery — or whether to trust the Union. Many Kentuckians wanted no part of a “Cotton Confederacy” — and even RJB favored at one point a southwestern Confederacy of Kentucky, Tennessee, Arkansas, Missouri, Louisiana and Texas. He suggested that an independent Kentucky would be better than domination by either abolitionists or South Carolina.

Throughout the 1850s RJB had made occasional forays into national politics by writing public letters to prominent individuals (e.g., Charles Sumner, William Seward, and his nephew, Vice President John C. Breckinridge). These carefully crafted letters won him high praise from conservatives — and guaranteed that when RJB spoke on national issues, people from all over the country would pay attention.

On January 4, 1861, on the national Day of Humiliation, RJB gave a discourse in Lexington, Kentucky, which quickly made it into print in newspapers all over the country. He began with the thesis “that our duties can never be made subordinate to our passions without involving us in ruin, and that our rights can never be set above our interests without destroying both.” Shortly thereafter, he began editing the Danville Quarterly Review — which regularly included his political commentary on the political and military course of the Civil War.

One of his first subscribers was Edward Bates — an Old School Presbyterian ruling elder (and Abraham Lincoln’s Attorney General!). Among those who wrote to encourage and thank him for his literary efforts was Francis Lieber, an influential political theorist at Columbia University (and a long-time colleague of James Henley Thornwell at South Carolina College!). Many people noticed at the time (and since) a number of statements in Abraham Lincoln’s speeches that reflect at least a similar mode of expression as Breckinridge, and some were convinced that Lincoln had been influenced by RJB’s arguments. (Certainly Lincoln viewed RJB as a crucial figure to holding Kentucky in the Union).

But it was not merely the bigwigs who paid attention to him. When the Governor of Kentucky proposed holding a convention to decide whether to secede from the Union, a lady from Louisville wrote him, “to implore you to go forthwith to our Capitol and exert every power and influence you possess to overcome such high handed treason. I feel that everything rests upon Kentucky’s course – and that course I am satisfied you alone can direct – God never bestowed such gifts upon you without holding you responsible for their proper use. Go — Oh for God’s sake go — and save your name a name so dear to every Kentuckian — your state and your Country.”

Plenty of other ministers wrote on political matters. But I do not find other ministers receiving anywhere near the attention that Breckinridge did.

Even before the war started, I find that death continues to play a large role in my research.

First, sickness and death plagued the Breckinridge home. RJB himself was terribly ill almost every winter, and sometimes he never really recovered for 6-9 months. Then, in 1859 his second wife, Virginia, died (possibly breast cancer), followed shortly by his son William’s wife Lucretia (seizures after childbirth), two grandchildren, and finally, a year after her mother, his twelve-year-old daughter, Virginia (apparently of diptheria that weakened her heart).

But there is another sort of death that RJB spoke of: controversy. Many people thought that RJB loved to fight — but he disagreed. “I never fight merely for fun: only when it is needful to fight. I don’t understand that there is any fun in it. Fighting means death. Therefore I attack no one — and I advise no one to attack me.”

Fighting means death. I had been thinking this about RJB for some time — so I was pleased to hear him say it! RJB never entered a controversy just for “fun.” He only fought when truth and honor were at stake (in other words, when life was on the line). Of course, I think he erred sometimes in his judgment — but in principle I agree: fighting means death. Is it worth dying over? If not — don’t fight!