The Daily Dispatch: January 17, 1865., [Electronic resource]

The Revolutionary Congress — or, rather, the several congresses of '76--must have been a rare body of men.--They had been produced by the times upon which their lot had been cast, and they were up to the times. They suffered no catastrophe, however disastrous; no danger, however imminent; no emergency, however pressing; no crisis, however imminent, to oppress them, or to swerve them, for one moment, from the clear line of duty. Far from partaking of those momentary fits of despondency which sometimes, very naturally, fell like a shower bath upon the enthusiasm of the people, or that far more dangerous apathy, which was frequently the successor to violent and long-continued exertion, they were always present to cheer, to exhort, to stimulate, by every appliance within the reach of strong common sense and unabated courage. Driven, occasionally, from one place of session to another, they never lost their equanimity, and never, for an instant, gave way to doubt. There was no occasion to which they were not equal, no high resolve to the level of which they were not capable of rising. They understood thoroughly the circumstances in which they were placed. Revolutionary men in a revolutionary era, they felt and understood their position; and, laying aside the insane common-place of every-day, peaceful life, they adopted the bold spirit and high action proper to the day. They had, fortunately, never been politicians after the fashion of the days which have just passed under the old Union. They had never been taught that a party victory is the highest achievement of statesmanship, and that statesmanship consists in obtaining a victory at the polls. They were the creatures of the Revolution, as the salamander is the creature of fire. They were generated in that atmosphere — they imbibed it from their political infancy — they lived in it as their natural element — no change that it brought, how startling soever it might appear to ordinary minds, could shake their constancy. They had pledged to one another "their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor," that they would carry that thing through; and when they had once made their pledge, they proceeded to redeem it.

Would to Heaven the Congress of the Confederate States had inherited but a portion of the spirit of these grand old patriots. But we look for it in vain.--Our armies have suffered disaster and defeat. A mighty host is encompassed within a few miles of the city — the thunder of his batteries shakes the walls of the capitol. He does not hesitate to proclaim that it is his intention to enslave, or to extirpate, the whole race, of which we are part and parcel. Our Congress is in session. Bills of the most urgent necessity are before it — bills vital to our Constitution and our country — bills upon the passage of which depend our status as freemen or slaves, probably for centuries to come. We are in the eighth week of the session. The enemy is prosecuting his enterprises throughout the winter. He allows our armies no rest, day or night; and yet not one single step has been taken by our legislators for the renovation of our armies, for the amelioration of our currency; for the restoration of confidence to our people, for any object whatever that can have the remotest bearing upon our defence against the vengeance of our implacable enemies. They spend their time in talking, just as if the old days of log cabins and hard cider were here again. They appear to have fallen asleep under the administration of Martin Van Buren, and never to have become thoroughly awake. And while they are postponing every bill that can be useful in this emergency, the enemy is raising heaven and earth to recruit his armies.

The disasters which we have suffered of late are not only not irreparable, but they are not so great as others we have suffered on other occasions. But the people have been more depressed by them than they ever were before, because they had been flattered with hopes of peace by persons who well knew that there could be no peace short of submission and enslavement. The fit of depression has been longer and more violent than formerly, because they see that Congress to which they naturally turn for encouragement trifling on the very edge of the abyss with the reckless disregard of their situation which prompts sailors, when the ship is about to go down, to break open the spirit room and drown their fears in liquor. They see little hope in that quarter. Congress is, in fact, assisting the enemy by encouraging the disposition to croak, which seems to have beset the whole country. A little prompt action, a slight display of resolution, a few words to keep up the confidence of the people, would work wonders. Cannot the Congress arouse itself and become equal to this task?