Oass. 
 
 C" 
 
 -W^H. 
 
 Book ^^Ba^ILSL 
 
ADDRESSES 
 
 DEATH OF HON. EDWARD D. BAKER. 
 
 DELIVERED IiV THE 
 
 SENATE AND HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES 
 
 ON 
 
 WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 11, 1861. 
 
 WASHINGTON : 
 
 OOVKKNMENT PKINTINa OFFICE. 
 
 1862. 
 
IB- 
 
 ADDRESSES 
 
 ^f 
 
 DEATH OF HON. EDWARD D. BAKER, 
 
 DELIVEaED IN THE 
 
 SENATE AND HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES 
 
 OK 
 
 WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 11, 1861. 
 
 < 
 
 m- 
 
 WASHINGTON : 
 
 GOVERNMENT PRINTING OFFICE. 
 
 1862. 
 
 ■01 
 
0- 
 
 IN THE HOUSE OP REPRESENTATIVES, 
 
 Friday, January 24, 1862. 
 
 Resolved, That ten thousand copies of the Eulogies delivered on 
 the occasion of the announcement of the death of Hon. Edward 
 D. Baker, Senator from Oregon, be printed for the use of the 
 House. 
 
 Attest: 
 
 EM. ETHERIDGK, 
 
 CUrTi. 
 
 n- 
 
 ni) 
 
©■ 
 
 ■^ 
 
 ADDRESSES 
 
 DEATH OF HON. EDWARD D. BAKER. 
 
 IN THE SENATE OF THE UNITED STATES. 
 
 Wednesday, December 11, 1861. 
 
 DEATH OP HON. EDWAED D. BAKER. 
 
 The President of the United States entered the Senate Chamber, 
 supported by Hon. Lyman Trumbull and Hon. 0. H. Browning, 
 Senators from the State of Illinois. He was introduced to the Vice 
 President, and took a seat beside him on the dais appropriated to the 
 President of the Senate. J. Gr. Nicolay, Esq., and John Hay, Esq., 
 Private Secretaries to the President of the United States, took seats 
 near the central entrance. 
 
 Address of Mr. Nesmith, of Oregon. 
 
 Mr. Peesident; The usage of tliis body imposes 
 upon me the melancholy duty of announcing the death 
 of my late colleague, Edward Dickinson Baker, United 
 States Senator from the State of Oregon, who fell 
 gloriously fighting under our national flag, at the head of 
 his command, near Leesburg, in Virginia, on the 21st 
 day of last October. Mr. Baker was a native of Eng- 
 land. While young his family emigrated to Philadelphia, 
 
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 4 OBITUARY ADDRESSES 
 
 where he resided with them for several years, and sub- 
 sequently emigrated to the State of Illinois. He early 
 embraced the profession of the law, and became eminent 
 as an advocate at the bar, composed of the ablest law- 
 yers in the West, many of whom have since achieved 
 honorable distinction in other pursuits. 
 
 Mr. Baker was twice chosen a Representative to 
 Congress from Illinois, and at the commencement of 
 the war with Mexico was selected to command a regi- 
 ment of his constituents. He served with distinction 
 at the battle of Cerro Gordo, and assumed the connnand 
 of his brigade after the fall of General Shields. In 
 1852 he went to California, and by his commanding 
 ability soon secured a fine legal practice, which he 
 retained until he changed his residence to Oregon. As 
 an orator, Mr. Baker ranked high, and was peculiarly 
 fliscinating in his manner and diction ; as a soldier, he 
 was possessed of a rare aptitude for the profession of 
 arms, combined with that cool, unflinching courage 
 which enabled him to perform the most arduous duties 
 under trying circumstances, and to look upon the most 
 fearful peril with composure. We all recollect how, 
 during the late session of Congress, he threw his influ- 
 ence on the side of his country ; and when responding 
 to what he denominated the " polished treason " of a 
 Senator upon this floor, he declared himself in favor of 
 " bold, sudden, forward, and determined war." What 
 he said as a senator he was willing to do as a soldier. 
 
 It is but a few short months since, in the presence of 
 this body, he took upon himself a solemn oath to sup- 
 port the Constitution of the United States ; that cove- 
 nant has been sealed with his heart's blood. Death has 
 
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 HON. EDWARD D. BAKER. 5 
 
 silenced his eloquence forever ; and his manly form has 
 been consigned to its last resting place on the shores of 
 the distant Pacific. 
 
 In the glowing eloquence of his own words, as he 
 stood by the grave of his friend Broderick, " the last 
 words must be spoken, and the imperious mandate of 
 Death must be fulfilled. Thus, brave heart, we bear 
 thee to thy rest. Thus, surrounded by tens of thou- 
 sands, we leave thee to the equal grave. As in life no 
 other voice among us so rang its trumpet blast upon the 
 ear of freemen, so in death its echoes will reverl^erate 
 amidst our mountains and our valleys until truth and 
 valor cease to appeal to the human heart." 
 
 Mr. President, I shall leave to others more competent 
 than myself to do justice to the character and many 
 virtues of my colleague ; and 
 
 "No further seek his merits to disclose, 
 Or draw his frailties from their dread abode; 
 There they alike in trembling hope repose, 
 The bosom of his Father and his God." 
 
 I offer the following resolutions: 
 
 Resolved, That the members of the Senate, from a sincere desire 
 of showing every mark of respect due to the memory of Hon. 
 Edward D. Baker, deceased, late a Senator from the State of 
 Oregon, will go into mourning by wearing crape on the left arm for 
 thirty days. 
 
 Resoh-cd, That, as an additional mark of respect for the memory 
 of Hon. Edward D. Baker, the Senate do now adjourn. 
 
 Ordered, That the Secretary communicate these resolutions to 
 the House of Representatives. 
 
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Address of Mr. McDougall, of CaUfornia. 
 
 Mr. President: Within the brief period I have 
 occupied a seat on this floor, I have hstened to the 
 formal announcement of the decease of the two Sena- 
 tors nearest to me by the ties of association and friend- 
 ship, both representative men, and among the ablest 
 that ever discoursed counsel in this Senate. 
 
 I trust I shall be pardoned if it be thought that there 
 is something of pride in my claim of friendship with 
 such distinguished and not to be forgotten men. 
 
 The late Senator from Illinois, as well as the late 
 Senator of whom I am about to speak, were my seniors 
 in years, and much more largely instructed than myself 
 in public affairs. Differing as they had for a period of 
 more than a quarter of a century, they had met together, 
 and in the maintenance, in all its integrity, of the great 
 governmental institution of our fathers, they were one. 
 Coming myself a stranger to your counsels, I looked to 
 them for that home advice in which there is no purpose 
 of disguise or concealment. 
 
 Their loss has been, and is, to me, like the shadows of 
 great clouds ; but while I have felt, and now feel, their 
 loss, as companions, friends, and counselors, in whose 
 truth I trusted, I feel that no sense of private loss should 
 find expression when a nation suflfers. I may say here, 
 however, that while for the loss of these two great Sen- 
 ators a nation suffers, the far country from whence I 
 come feels the sufferings of a double loss. They were 
 both soldiers and champions of the West — of our new 
 and undeveloped possessions. A few months since the 
 
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 IIOX. EDWARD D. BAKER. 7 
 
 people of the Pacific, from the Sea of Cortez to the 
 Straits of Fuca, mourned for Douglas : the same people 
 now mourn for Baker. The two Senators were widely 
 different men, molded in widely different forms, and 
 they walked in widely different paths ; but the tread of 
 their hearts kept time, and they each sought a common 
 goal, only by different paths. 
 
 The record of the honorable birth, brilliant life, and 
 heroic death of the late Edward Dickinson Baker 
 has been already made by a thousand eloquent pens. 
 That record has deen read in cabin and in hall from 
 Maine to furthest Oregon. I offer now but to pay to 
 his memory the tribute of my love and praise. While 
 paying this tribute wdth a proud sadness, I trust its 
 value will not be diminished when I state that for many 
 years, and until the recent demands of patriotism ex- 
 tinguished controversial differences, we were almost 
 constant adversaries in the forum and at the bar. 
 
 A great writer, in undertaking to describe one of the 
 greatest of men, said : " Know that there is not one of 
 you wdio is aware of his real nature." I think that, 
 with all due respect, I might say of the late Senator 
 the same thing to this Senate, as I am compelled to say 
 it to myself Of all the men I have ever known, he 
 was the most difficult to comprehend. 
 
 He was a many-sided man. Will, mind, power radi- 
 ated from one centre within him, in all directions ; and 
 while the making of that circle, wdiich, according to the 
 dreams of old philosophy, would constitute a perfect 
 being, is not within human hope, he may be regarded as 
 one who at least illustrated the thought. 
 
 His great powers cannot be attributed to the work 
 
of laborious years. They were not his achievements. 
 They were gifts, God-given. His sensations, memory, 
 thought, and action w^ent hand in hand together, with a 
 velocity and power which, if not always exciting admi- 
 ration, compelled astonishment. 
 
 Although learned, the late Senator was not what is 
 called a scholar. He was too full of stirring life to 
 labor among the moldy records of dead ages ; and had 
 he not been, the wilderness of the West furnished no 
 field for the exercise of mere scholarly accomplishments, 
 
 I say the late Senator was learned. He was skilled 
 in metaphysics, logic, and law. He might be called a 
 master of history, and of all the literature of our own 
 language. He knew much of music — not only music 
 as it gives present pleasure to the ear, but music in the 
 sense in which it was understood by the old seekers 
 after wisdom, who held that in harmonious sounds rested 
 some of the great secrets of the infinite. 
 
 Poetry he inhaled and expressed. The afflatus called 
 divine breathed about him. Many years since, on the 
 then wild plains of the West, in the middle of a star-lit 
 night, as we journeyed together, I heard first from him 
 the chant of that noble song, "The Battle of Ivry." 
 Two of its stanzas impressed me then, and there are 
 other reasons why they impress me now: 
 
 " The King has come to marshal us, in all his armor dressed ; 
 And he has bound a snow-Avhite plume upon his gallant crest. 
 He looked upon his people, and a tear was in his eye ; 
 lie looked upon the traitors, and his glance was stern and high : 
 Right graciously he smiled on us, as ran from wing to wing, 
 Down all our line, a deafening shout, ' God save our Lord the King !' 
 And if my standard-bearer fall, and fall full well he may, 
 For never saw I promise yet of such a bloody fray, 
 
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 HON. EDWARD D. BAKER. 
 
 Press where ye see my white plume shines, amidst the ranks of war ; 
 And be your oriflamme to-day, the helmet of Navarre. 
 
 Hurrah ! the foes are moving — hark to the mingled din 
 
 Of fife and steed, and trump and drum, and roaring culverin ; 
 
 The fiery Duke is pricking fast across St. Andre's plain, 
 
 With all the hireling chivalry of Gueldres and Almagne. 
 
 'Now, by the lips of those ye love, fair gentlemen of France, 
 
 Charge! for the golden lilies — now upon them Avith the lance !' 
 
 A thousand spurs are striking deep, a thousand spears in rest, 
 
 A thousand knights are pressing close behind the snow-white crest ; 
 
 And in they burst, and on they rashed ! while, like a guiding star. 
 
 Amidst the thickest carnage blazed the helmet of Navarre." 
 
 It was the poetry which embodies the hfe of great 
 and chivah-ous action which moved him most, and he 
 possessed the power to create it. 
 
 He was an orator. Not an orator trained to the 
 model of the Greek or Roman school, but one far better 
 suited to our age and people. He was a master of 
 dialectics, and possessed a skill and power in words 
 which would have confounded the rhetoric of Gorgias, 
 and demanded of the great master of dialectics himself 
 the exact use of all his materials of wordy warfare. 
 
 He was deeply versed in all that belongs to the 
 relations and conduct of all forms of societies, from 
 families to States, and the laws which have and do 
 govern them. 
 
 He was not a man of authorities simply, because he 
 used authorities only as the rounds whereby to ascend 
 to principles. 
 
 Having learned much, he was a remarkable master 
 of all he knew, whether, it was to analyse, generalise, 
 or combine his vast materials. 
 
 It was true of him, as it is true of most remarkable 
 
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 10 OBITUARY ADDRESSES- 
 
 minds, tliat he did not always appear to be all lie was. 
 The occasion made the measure of the exhibition of 
 his strength. When the occasion challenged the effort, 
 he could discourse as cunningly as the Sage of Ithaca, 
 and as wisely as the King of Pylus. 
 
 He was a soldier. He was a leader — "a man of 
 war" — fit, like the Tachmonite, "to sit in the seat, 
 chief among the caj^tains." Like all men who possess 
 hero blood, he loved tame, glory, honorable renown. 
 He thirsted for it with an ardent thirst, as did Cicero 
 and Caesar; and what was that nectar in which the 
 gods delighted on high Olympus but the wine of praise 
 for great deeds accomplished 1 AVould that he might 
 have lived, so that his great sacrifice might have been 
 offered, and his great soul have gone up, from some 
 great victorious field, his lips bathed with the nectar 
 that he loved. 
 
 None ever felt more than he — 
 
 " Since all must life resign, 
 
 Those sweet delights that decorate the brave 
 'Tis folly to decline, 
 And steal inglorious to the silent grave." 
 
 But it was something more than the fierce thirst for 
 glory that carried the late Senator to the field of sacrifice. 
 No one felt more than he the majestic dignity of the great 
 cause for which our nation now makes war. He loved 
 freedom — if you please, Anglo-Saxon freedom ; for he 
 was of that great old race. He loved this land — this 
 whole land. He had done much to conquer it from the 
 wilderness ; and by his own acts he had made it his 
 land. 
 
 Hero blood is patriotic blood. When he witnessed 
 
the storm of anarchy with which the madness of de- 
 praved ambition sought to overwhehn the land of his 
 choice and love — when he heard the battle call — 
 
 "Lay down the ax, fling by the spade, 
 
 Leave in its track tbe toiling plow; 
 The rifle and the bayonet blade, 
 
 For arms like yours, are fitter now. 
 And let the hands that ply the pen, 
 
 Quit the light task, and learn to wield 
 The horseman's crooked brand, and rein 
 
 The charger on the battle-field. 
 
 "Our country calls — away! away! 
 
 To where the blood-streams blot the green! 
 Strike to defend the gentlest sway 
 That time in all its course has seen ! " — 
 
 it was in the spirit of the patriot hero that the gallant 
 soldier, the grave Senator, the white-haired man of 
 counsel, yet full of youth as full of years, gave answer, 
 as does the war-horse, to the trumpet's sound. 
 
 The wisdom of his conduct has been questioned. 
 Many have thought that he should have remained for 
 counsel in this hall. Mr. President, the propriety of a 
 Senator taking upon himself the duties of a soldier 
 depends, like many other things, on circumstances ; and 
 certainly such conduct has the sanction of the example 
 of great names. 
 
 Socrates — who was not of the councils of Athens 
 simply because he deemed his office as a teacher of 
 wisdom a higher and nobler one — did not think it un- 
 w^orthy of himself to serve as a common soldier in 
 battle ; and when Plato seeks best to describe, and most 
 to dignify, his great master, he causes Alcibiades, among 
 other things, to say of him: 
 
 -a 
 
" I onglit not to omit what Socrates was in battle ; for in tliat 
 battle after wbicU the generals decreed to me the prize of courage, 
 Socrates alone, of all men, was the saviour of my life, standing by 
 me when I had fallen and was wounded, and preserving both myself 
 and my arms from the hands of the enemy. But to see Socrates, when 
 our army was defeated and scattered in flight at Delias, was a spec- 
 tacle worthy to behold. On that occasion, I was among the cavalry, 
 and he on foot, heavily armed. After the total rout of our troops, he 
 and Laches retreated together. I came up by chance; and seeing 
 them, bade them be of good cheer, for that I would not leave them. 
 As I was on horseback, and therefore less occupied by a regard of 
 my own situation, I could better observe than at Potidoea the beautiful 
 spectacle exhibited by Socrates on this emergency." * # * * 
 
 * * * « jjg -walked and darted his regards around with a 
 majestic composure, looking tranquilly both on his friends and 
 enemies; so that it was evident to every one, even from afar, that 
 whoever should venture to attack him would encounter a desperate 
 resistance. He and his companion thus departed in safety; for those 
 who are scattered in flight are pursued and killed, whilst men 
 hesitate to touch those who exhibit such a countenance as that of 
 Socrates, even in defeat." 
 
 This is the picture of a sage painted by a sage; and 
 why may not great wisdom be the strongest element of 
 a great war? 
 
 In the days when the States of Greece were free — 
 when Rome was free, when Venice was free — who but 
 their great statesmen, counselors, and senators, led their 
 armies to victorious battle 1 In the best days of all the 
 great and free States, civil place and distinction was 
 never held inconsistent with military authority and con- 
 duct. So far from it, all history teaches the fact that 
 those who have proved themselves most competent to 
 direct and administer the affairs of government in times 
 of peace, were not only trusted, but were best trusted 
 with the conduct of armies in times of war. 
 
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 HON. EDWARD D. BAKER. 13 
 
 In tliese teachings of history there may be some 
 lessons we have yet to learn; and that we have such 
 lessons to learn I know was the strong conviction of 
 the late Senator. 
 
 It is with no sense of satisfaction that I feel it my 
 duty to say that I have been led to the opinion that 
 there is much soundness in the opinion he entertained. 
 
 It is but a brief time since the late Senator was 
 among us, maintaining our country's cause with wise 
 counsel, clothed in eloquent words. When, in August 
 last, his duties here as a Senator for the time ceased, he 
 devoted himself exclusively to the duties of a soldier. 
 Occupying a subordinate position, commanded where he 
 was most ht to command, he received his orders. He 
 saw and knew the nature of the enterprise he was re- 
 quired to undertake. He saw and knew that he was 
 required to move urjderneath the shadow of the wings 
 of Azrael. He did not — he would not — question the 
 requirement made of him. His motto on that day 
 was: "A good heart, and no hope." He knew, as was 
 known at Balaklava, that some one had blundered ; yet 
 he said: "Forward, my brigade, although some one has 
 blundered." 
 
 Was this reckless rashness 1 No ! 
 
 It may be called sacrifice, self-sacrifice ; but I, who 
 know the man who was the late Senator — the calm, 
 self-possessed perfectness of his valor — and who have 
 studied all the details of the field of his last offering 
 with a sad earnestness, say to you, sir — to this Senate, 
 to the country, and particularly to the people of the 
 land of the West, where most and best he is known and 
 loved — that no rash, reckless regardlessness of danger 
 
 m 
 
can be attributed to him. It is but just to say of liim, 
 that his conduct sprung from a stern hero, patriot, 
 martyr spirit, that enabled him to dare unflinchingly — 
 with a smile to the green earth, and a smile to the 
 bright heavens, and a cheer to his brave companions — 
 ascend the altar of sacrifice. 
 
 A poet of the middle ages, speaking of Carthage as 
 then a dead city, the grave of which was scarcely 
 discernible, says: 
 
 "For cities die, kingdoms die; a little sand and grass cover all 
 that was once lofty in them, and glorious ; and yet man, forsooth, 
 disdains that he is mortal! Oh, mind of ours, inordinate and proud." 
 
 It is true cities and kingdoms die. but the eternal 
 thought lives on. Great thought, incorporate with great 
 action, does not die, but lives a universal life, and its 
 l)ower is felt vibrating through all spirit and throughout 
 all the ages. 
 
 I doubt whether or not we should mourn for any of 
 the dead. I am confident that there should be no 
 mourning for those who render themselves up as sacri- 
 fices in any great, just, and holy cause. It better 
 becomes us to praise and dignify them. 
 
 It was the faith of an ancient people that the souls of 
 heroes did not rest until their great deeds had been 
 hymned by bards, to the sounds of martial music. 
 
 Bards worthy of the ancient time have hymned the 
 praise of the great citizen, senator, and soldier who has 
 left us. They have showered on his memory 
 
 "Those leaves, which, for the eternal few 
 Who wander o'er the paradise of fame, 
 In sacred dedication ever grew." 
 
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11 -s 
 
 HON. EDWAKD D. BAKER. 15 
 
 I would that I were able to add a single leaf to the 
 eternal amaranth. 
 
 In long future years, when our night of horror shall 
 have passed, and there shall have come again 
 
 "The welcome morning with its rays of peace," 
 
 young seekers after fame, and young lovers of freedom, 
 throughout all this land — yea, and other and distant 
 lands — will recognise, honor, and imitate our late asso- 
 ciate as one of the undying dead. 
 
 Mr. President, I second the resolutions of the Senator 
 from Oregon. 
 
 Address of Mr. Browning, of Illinois. 
 
 Mr. President: On taking my seat in the Senate at 
 its special session in July last, my first active participa- 
 tion in its business was on the occasion of the proceed- 
 ings commemorative of the death of Hon. Stephen A. 
 Douglas, my immediate predecessor; and now, sir, at 
 the commencement of this my second session, it becomes 
 my melancholy duty to bear a part in the ceremonies in 
 honor of another, who had been longer a citizen of the 
 State of Illinois, whose memory is not less dear to the 
 hearts of her people, and whose tragical and untimely 
 death has shrouded the State in mourning. 
 
 Hon. Edward D. Baker was, and had ever been, my 
 personal and political friend, and, from earliest manhood, 
 the relations between us had been of the closest and 
 most confidential character that friendship allows; and 
 there are but few whose death would have left so large 
 a void in my afiections. 
 
 ■Cd 
 
Something my jmiior in years, he was my senior in 
 the profession to which we both belonged; and com- 
 mencing our professional career in the same State, and 
 very near the same time, traveling much upon the same 
 circuit, and belonging to the same political party, a 
 friendship grew up which was cemented and strength- 
 ened by time, and continued, from our first acquaintance 
 amid the collisions of the bar and the rivalries of politics, 
 without ever having sustained a shock or an interruption 
 even for a moment; and I owe it to the memories of 
 the past, and to the relations which subsisted between 
 us whilst he lived, to offer some poor tribute to his 
 worth now that he is dead. 
 
 Few men who have risen to positions of great dis- 
 tinction and usefulness, and left the impress of their 
 lives upon their country's history, have been less indebted 
 to the circumstances of birth and fortune. He inherited 
 neither ancestral wealth nor honors; but whatever of 
 either he attained was the reward of his own energy 
 and talents. He was, very literally, the "architect of 
 his own fortunes." 
 
 Commencing the practice of law before he had reached 
 the full maturity of manhood, and in what was then a 
 border State, but among lawyers whose talents and 
 learning shed lustre upon the profession to which they 
 belonged, without the patronage of wealth or power, he 
 soon made his way to the front rank of the bar, and 
 maintained his position there to the hour of his death. 
 
 But he did not confine himself exclusively to profes- 
 sional pursuits, and to the care of his own private affairs. 
 He was a man of rare endowments, and of such fitness 
 and aptitude for public employments as were sure to 
 
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 HON. EDWAllD D. BAKER. 17 
 
 attract public attention. He could not, if lie would, 
 have made his way through life along its quiet, peaceful, 
 and secluded walks; and it does him no discredit to say 
 he would not if he could. 
 
 He was too fully in sympathy with his kind to he 
 indifferent to anything which affected their welfare, and 
 too heroic in character to remain a passive spectator of 
 great and stirring events. He was eminently a man of 
 action; and although fond of literature and science and 
 art, and possessed of a refined and cultivated taste, he 
 yet loved the sterner conflicts of life more than the quiet 
 conquests of the closet; and whilst a citizen of Illinois, 
 served her both as a soldier and civilian, and won dis- 
 tinction wherever he acted. He had elasticity, strength, 
 versatility, and fervor of intellect, and a mind full of 
 resources. 
 
 His talents were both varied and brilliant, and capable 
 of great achievements; but their usefulness was, perhaps, 
 somewhat impaired by a peculiarity of physical organi- 
 zation, which made him one of the most restless of 
 men, and incapable of the close, steady, and persevering 
 mental application without which great results cannot 
 often be attained. It was not fickleness or unsteadiness 
 of purpose, but a proud and impatient spuming of re- 
 straint, contempt for the beaten track of mental pro- 
 cesses, and disgust with the dullness and weariness of 
 confinement and inaction. But this defect was, to a very 
 great extent, compensated by the wonderful ease and 
 rapidity with which he could master any subject upon 
 which he chose to concentrate the powers of his mind; 
 by the marvelous facility with which he acquired 
 knowledge, and the felicity with which he could use it. 
 
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 18 OBITUARY ADDRESSES. 
 
 "Whatever he could do at all he could do at once, and 
 up to the full measure of his capacity. Whatever he 
 could comprehend at all he comprehended with the 
 quickness of intuition, and gained but little afterwards 
 by investigation and elaboration. He did not reach 
 intellectual results as other men do — by the slow pro- 
 cesses of analysis or induction ; but if he could reach 
 them at all, he could do it at a bound. And yet it was 
 not jumping at conclusions, for he could always state, 
 with almost mathematical clearness and precision, the 
 premises from which he made his deductions, and guide 
 you along the same path he had traveled to the same 
 goal. He saw at a glance all the material, and all the 
 relations of the material, which he intended to use, to 
 the subject in hand, but which another would have 
 carefully and laboriously to search out and collect to be 
 enabled to see at all, and diligently to collate before 
 understanding its uses and relations. 
 
 To a greater extent than most men, he combined the 
 force and severity of logic with grace, fancy, and elo- 
 quence, filling at the bar at the same time the character 
 of the astute and profound lawyer, and the able, eloquent, 
 and successful advocate; whilst in the Senate, the wise, 
 prudent, and discreet statesman was combined with the 
 chaste, classical, brilUant, and persuasive orator. 
 
 But with all his aptitude lor, and adaptation to, the 
 highest and noblest pursuits of the civilian, he had a 
 natural taste, talent, and fondness for the life of the 
 soldier. There was something in the bugle-blast of 
 war and the cannon's roar which roused his soul to its 
 profoundest depths; and he could no more remain in 
 ino-lorious ease at home, while the desolations of war 
 
 0^ 
 
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P : : ^ 
 
 HON. EDWARD D. BAKER. 19 
 
 l)lackenecl and blasted the land, than the proud eao-le 
 could descend from his home in the cloud to dwell with 
 the moping owl. 
 
 Three times, in his not protracted life, he led our 
 citizen soldiers to the embattled plain to meet in deadly 
 conflict his country's foes. Alas! that he shall lead 
 them no more! that he shall never more marshal them 
 for the glorious strife ! never more rouse to the " signal 
 trumpet tone!" He has fallen! "The fresh dust is 
 chill upon the Ijreast that burned erewhile with fires 
 that seemed immortal." 
 
 "He sleeps his last sleep — lie lias fouglit liis last battle; 
 No soiiucl shall awake him to gloiy again." 
 
 He fell — as I think he would have preferred to flill 
 had he had the choice of the mode of death — in the 
 storm of battle, cheerinoj his brave followers on to dutv 
 in the service of his adopted country, to which he felt 
 that he owed much, which he loved well, and had 
 served long and faithfully. It does him no dishonor to 
 say that he was a man of great ambition, and that he 
 yearned after military renown; but his ambition was 
 chastened by his j)atriotism, his strong sense of justice, 
 and his humanity; and its fires never burned so fiercely 
 in his bosom as to tempt him to purchase honor, glory, 
 and distinction for himself, by needlessly sacrificing, or 
 even imperiling, the lives of others. He was no untried 
 soldier, with a name yet to win. It was already high on 
 the roll of fame, and indissolubly linked with his coun- 
 try's history. Years ago, at home and abroad, he had 
 drawn his sword in his country's cause, and shed his 
 blood in defence of her rights. Years ago he had led 
 
our soldiers to battle, and by his gallantry shed new 
 lustre upon our arms, and historic interest upon Cerro 
 Gordo's heights; and now he had that fame to guard 
 and protect. He had to defend his already written page 
 of history from blot or stain, as well as to add to it 
 another leaf equally radiant and enduring. But, Mr. 
 President, it would be a poor, inadequate, and unworthy 
 estimate of his character which should explore only a 
 selfish ambition and aspirations for individual glory for 
 the sources of his action. 
 
 The impelhng causes were far higher and nobler. 
 He was a true, immovable, incorruptible, and unshrink- 
 ing patriot. He was the fast, firm friend of civil and 
 religious liberty, and believed that they should be the 
 common heritage and blessing of all mankind; and that 
 they could be secured and enjoyed only through the 
 instrumentality of organized constitutional government, 
 and submission to, and obedience of, its laws; and the 
 conviction upon his mind was deep and profound that if 
 the wicked rebellion which had been inaugurated went 
 unrebuked, and treason triumphed over law, constitu- 
 tional government in North America would be utterly 
 annihilated, to be followed by the confusion of anarchy, 
 and the confusion of anarchy to be succeeded by the op- 
 pressions and atrocities of despotism. He believed that 
 whatever the horrors, and plagues, and desolations of 
 civil war might be, they would still be far less in mag- 
 nitude and duration than the plagues and calamities 
 which would inevitably follow upon submission and 
 separation. The contest in which we are engaged had 
 been, without cause or pretext of cause, forced upon us. 
 We had to accept the strife, or so submit to an arrogant 
 
 @- 
 
HON. EDWARD D. BAKER. 21 
 
 assumption of superionty of right as to show ourselves 
 unworthy of the hberties and blessings which the blood, 
 and treasure, and wisdom, and virtue of illustrious sires 
 had achieved for us; and he believed that the issue of 
 the contest was powerfully and vitally to affect the 
 welfare and happiness of the American peoj^le, if not, 
 indeed, of all other nations, for centuries yet to be. 
 With these views, both just and patriotic, he recognised 
 it as his duty to give his services to his country when- 
 ever and in whatever capacity they could be of most 
 value and importance ; and with as much of self-al)nega- 
 tion as the frailties of humanity would allow, he took his 
 place in the serried ranks of war; and in the strict and 
 discreet discharge of his duty as a soldier, fighting for 
 his country in a holy cause, he fell. 
 
 And it is, Mr. President, to me, his friend, a source of 
 peculiar gratification, that the history of the disastrous 
 day which terminated his brilliant career, when it shall 
 have been truthfully written, will be his full and suffi- 
 cient vindication from any charge of temerity or reckless- 
 ness regarding the lives of those intrusted to his care. 
 He was brave, ardent, and impetuous, and "when war's 
 stern strength was on his soul," he no doubt felt that 
 "one crowded hour of glorious life was worth an age 
 without a name." But his was not the fitful impetuosity 
 of the whirlwind, which unfits for self-control or the 
 command of others, but the strong, steady, and resistless 
 roll of the stream within its prescribed limits, and to its 
 sure and certain object. Not the impetuosity which 
 culminates in fantastic rashness, but that which, in the 
 j)resence of danger, is exalted to the sublimity of 
 heroism. 
 
 ^^j 
 
22 OBITUARY ADDEESSES- 
 
 I have said he was ambitious, but there was never 
 ambition with less of the taint and dross of selfishness. 
 He was incaj^able of a mean and unmanly envy, and 
 was ever quick to perceive and ready to acknowledge 
 the merit of a rival, and would stifle his own desires, 
 and postpone his own aggrandizement, for the advance- 
 ment of a friend. Nobly generous, he could and did 
 make sacrifices of both pecuniary and political advantages 
 to his friendships, which, with him, were real, sincere, 
 and lasting. He never sought to drag others down from 
 moral or social, professional or political eminence, that 
 he might rise upon the ruin; nor regarded the good 
 fortune of another, in whatever vocation or department 
 of life, as a wrong done him, or as any impediment to 
 his own prosperity. Brave and self-reliant, but neither 
 rash nor presumptuous, he could avenge or forgive 
 an injury with a grace and promptitude which did 
 equal honor to his boldness of spirit and kindness of 
 heart. Under insult or indignity he was fierce and 
 dehant, and could teach an enemy alike to fear and 
 respect him, and, in the collisions of life's battle, may 
 have given something of the impression of harshness of 
 temper; but in the domestic circle, amid the social 
 throng, and under friendship's genial and enchanting 
 influences, he was as gentle and confiding in his affec- 
 tions as a woman, and as tender and trustful as a child. 
 
 Senator Baker was not only a lawyer, an orator, a 
 statesman, and a soldier, but he was also a poet, and at 
 all times, when deeply in earnest, both spoke and acted 
 under high poetic inspiration. At one time, when I 
 traveled upon the same circuit with him and others v^ho 
 have since been renowned in the history of Illinois, it 
 
 -m 
 
was no uncommon thing, after the labors of the day in 
 court were ended, and forensic battles had been lost and 
 won, for the lawyers to forget the asperities which had 
 been engendered by the conflicts of the bar in the 
 innocent if not profitable pastime of writing verses for 
 the amusement of each other and their friends; and I 
 well remember with what greater facility than others 
 he could dash from his pen eifusions sparkling all over 
 with poetic gems; and if all that he has thus written 
 could be collected together, it would make no mean 
 addition to the poetic literature of our country. Its 
 beauty, grace, and vivacity would certainly redeem it 
 from oblivion. 
 
 Yet he did not aspire to the character of a poet, but 
 wrought the poetic vein only for the present amusement 
 of himself and intimate friends; and I am not aware 
 that any of the productions of which I speak ever 
 passed beyond that limited circle. They were not per- 
 petuated by "the art preservative of all other arts." 
 
 The same thing is true of his forensic eiforts, many 
 of which were distinguished by a brilliancy, po^^'er, and 
 eloquence, and a classic grace and purity, that would 
 have done honor to the most renowned barrister, but 
 which live now only in the traditions of the country. 
 Stenography was at that day an unknown art in Illinois, 
 and writing out a speech would have been a prodigality 
 of time and labor of which an Illinois lawyer was 
 probably never guilty. 
 
 To Senators who were his cotemporaries here, and 
 who have heard the melody of his voice — who have 
 witnessed his powerful and impassioned bursts of elo- 
 quence, and felt the witchery of the spell that he has 
 
 ^ 
 
[C ;g] 
 
 24 OBITUxVRY ADDEESSES- 
 
 tlirown upon them — it were vain for me to speak of his 
 displays in this Chamber. It is no disparagement to 
 his survivors to say that he stood the peer of any gen- 
 tleman on this floor in all that constitutes the able 
 and skilful debater, and the classical, persuasive, and 
 enchanting orator. 
 
 But his clear and manly voice shall be heard in these 
 halls no more. Never again shall these crowded galle- 
 ries hang breathless on his words; never again the 
 thronging multitudes who gathered where'er he spoke be 
 thrilled by the magic of his eloquence. The voice that 
 could soothe to delicious repose, or rouse to a tempest 
 of passion, is now hushed forever. The heart once so 
 fiery brave lies pulseless in the tomb, and all that is left 
 to his country or his home, is the memory of what 
 he was. 
 
 I will not attempt, Mr. President, to speak poor, cold 
 words of sympathy and consolation to the stricken hearts 
 of his family. I know, sir, how bitter and immedicable 
 their anguish is. I know, sir, how it rends the heart- 
 strings, all willing though we be, to lay our loved ones 
 as sacrifices even on our country's altar. The death- 
 dealing hand of war has invaded my own household and 
 slain its victim there, and I know that words bring no 
 healing to the grief which follows these bereavements. 
 The heart turns despairingly away from " honor's voice," 
 which provokes not the silent dust, and from the flatteries 
 which cannot 
 
 "Soothe tlie dull, cold ear of death;" 
 and the spirits ebb, and 
 
 "Life's enchanting scenes their lustre lose, 
 And lessen in oiu- sight," 
 
 i- 
 
m ■ ^1 
 
 HON. EDWARD D. BAKER. 25 
 
 Time alone can bring healing on its wing; 
 
 "Time! the beautifiei- of the dead, 
 Adorner of the ruin, comforter 
 And only healer Avhere the heart hath bled," 
 
 can alone mitigate, chasten, and sanctify the crushing 
 sorrow. And not till after Time has done its gentle 
 work, and stilled the tempest of feeling, can the sorrow- 
 ing hearts around his now desolate hearthstone iind 
 consolation in remembering how worthily he lived, and 
 how gloriously he died; that he is "fortune's now, and 
 fame's;" and that when peace, on downy pinion, comes 
 again to bless our troubled land, and all hearts have 
 renewed their allegiance to the beneficent government 
 for which he died, history will claim him as its own, and 
 canonize him in the hearts of his countrymen as a 
 heroic martyr in the great cause of human rights, and 
 chronicle his deeds on pa^-es illuminated with the 
 gratitude of freemen, and as imperishable as the love 
 of liberty. 
 
 Address of Mr. Cowan, of Pennsylvania. 
 
 Mr. President: Pennsylvania also droops her head 
 among the States that mourn on this occasion. She, 
 too, sheds her tears and utters her wail of lamentation 
 over the fall of the senator and soldier. She was his 
 foster-mother. A national orphan, in his infancy and 
 youth she was his guardian for nurture. Perhaps he 
 had no recollection of any other country he could call 
 his "native land" but Pennsylvania, and she loved him 
 
 -m 
 
26 OBITUARY ADDRESSES- 
 
 as though he had been actually to her "manor born." 
 He died under her regimental flag, bearing her commis- 
 sion, and leading her soldiers in the deadly strife. She 
 therefore laments his heroic and untimely death with a 
 grief that yields to that of none else in its depth and 
 intensity. Let Oregon, his last and fondest love, steep 
 herself in sorrow as she may, Pennsylvania still claims 
 an equal place at her side in this national manifestation 
 of distress at his loss. She can hardly now realize that 
 in his life he was not all her own, since he died so near 
 her, and was carried from the battle-field borne upon 
 her shield. 
 
 It is not my purpose either to speak of the virtues 
 and accomplishments which adorned the private life of 
 Colonel Baker, or to enter into the detail of his public 
 services to the country: all that has been done by his 
 old and cherished friends, as they only could do it; and 
 the tribute to his worth they have oflfered here to-day is 
 in itself a noble monument to his memory. 
 
 It was not my fortune to have known him personally 
 for a long time; and I shall endeavor only to give the 
 impression he made upon me, and I think also upon the 
 public, by his well-known career in such widely different 
 situations. 
 
 This man had a remarkable life, and his history is 
 strikingly illustrative of that of his race. He was evi- 
 dently of pure English blood — at home anywhere on 
 the globe, with a strong desire to be dominant wherever 
 he was. To such a one the American continent, with its 
 restless population, furnished the theatre exactly suited 
 to his tastes and abilities; and had not that population 
 been here, he would have brought them if he could, 
 
 ii m 
 
© — — w 
 
 HON. EDWARD D. BAKER. 27 
 
 They were an emigrating and colonizing people, and he 
 was a man eminently of that sort; so that wherever they 
 went he was sure to be in the van to lead them. He 
 would have lived all over the world had it been possible, 
 and he would have carried with him his civilization and 
 favorite institutions. 
 
 Born in London, his first voyage was across the 
 Atlantic in his earliest inflmcy. During his youth his 
 home was in Philadelphia; his next move was away across 
 the Alleghanies, and his young manhood was passed 
 upon the great western prairies; but, not content, he 
 departs from thence, and in riper age — in his prime — 
 he was beyond the great deserts and the Rocky Mountains 
 dwelling on the shores of the Pacific. He had leaped 
 the continent. 
 
 Nor did he wander always along isothermal lines, but 
 with the boldest of his race, he extended his range from 
 the great lakes of North America to the Caribbean 
 sea. He had tried causes nearly as far north as Chicago, 
 and he had helped to build a railroad across the Isthmus 
 of Darien. He had raised regiments in Illinois, and led 
 them to l)attle in the gorges and on the high plateaux of 
 the Mexican Cordilleras. No climatic differences seemed 
 to deter him, and he trod the torrid with the same 
 fearless freedom he did the temperate zone. No matter 
 to him where his tent was pitched — whether on the 
 cool and salubrious banks of the Upper Mississippi, or 
 on the stifling and pestilential banks of the Chagres — it 
 was all one. He had settled on the plain of Tacubaya, 
 beside the failing sea of Anahuac, nearly as soon as 
 beside the snow-clad mountains which overhang the 
 Columbia river. All these seduced him by the very 
 
 -m 
 
m 
 
 28 OBITUARY AI>J)RESSES. 
 
 _ - 
 
 novelty of their dangers. Had lie lived in olden times, 
 he had been a viking — a sea-rover — and had come down 
 with Hengist and Horsa, skilled in the Sagas, and knowing 
 the Runes by heart; or he might, perhaps, have come 
 over with Leif, the son of Eric the Red; because anything 
 that was noble, dangerous, and difficult had such charms 
 for him that he sought it as naturally as he would have 
 sought food when he was hungry. This was his Saxo- 
 Norman nature, and to gratity its cravings he would 
 have been delighted to have gone to the Holy Land 
 with the Crusaders, or to have led a company of free 
 lancers in the wars of Italy. 
 
 He was also a man of intellect — cool, clear, sharp, and 
 ready. His culture was large, without being bookish; 
 he was learned, without being a scholar; and studious, 
 without being a student. He acquired that which he 
 thought useful to him, and he had it all at his fingers' 
 ends; and his first glance was so keen that it served 
 him as well as an hour's gaze — perhaps better. It 
 cannot be doubted that he was a great criminal lawyer — 
 great by force of his reason rather than by the illumina- 
 tion of the books — and no jury could well withstand his 
 eloquence. He was a true orator, because he confined 
 himself to his subject; and expressing himself with such 
 ease that all understood him, he was effective. He did 
 not seem to trouble himself so much as to whether he 
 was following a classic model as whether he was get- 
 ting everybody to believe just as he did. He never 
 went out of his way for etfect; therefore, he produced 
 effects. Drawing the sentiments he uttered as they 
 welled up fresh from his soul, the pitchers of his audience 
 were all filled, and they went away satisfied. He had 
 
 m- 
 
 -m 
 
HON. EDWARD D. BAKER. 29 
 
 no art, because he had the higliest art — that of simphcity. 
 All those who heard him thought he was saying just 
 what they would have said could they have stolen his 
 wondrous power of speech. 
 
 At the hustinofs he must have been unrivaled; and it 
 is no wonder he was the idol of the people wherever 
 he went. A man with such human sympathies, and 
 such rare gifts, could not fliil to find some response in 
 every heart. He had a fine personal appearance, and 
 his manners were self-possessed and easy as actual con- 
 tact with all ranks of men could make them. He was 
 also a brave man, physically and morally; and although 
 it is said that, before his last terrific battle, he had 
 heard the weird song of the fatal sisters, and felt that 
 his doom impatiently awaited him, yet he bore himself 
 as gallantly in the fight as if on parade ; and true to his 
 instincts as a soldier and gentleman, his last moment on 
 the earth was loaded with the double duty of directing 
 the battle and giving cheer and condolence to the officers 
 and soldiers who were maimed and bleeding about him. 
 Still Heaven was kind — he was saved all lingering tor- 
 ture, for his life went out through a dozen wounds, any 
 one of which had been mortal. 
 
 He is gone! whether the victim of man's folly, or 
 of inexorable fate, is for future inquiry; and it is hoped 
 that the tears of his countrymen, shed over his grave in 
 sorrow, may not become hot with indignation against 
 any wrongly accused with causing the disaster. He is 
 gone ! and his name and character henceforth belong to 
 history. His children will glory in both, and be known 
 to men because of him — the proudest legacy he could 
 leave them. His country, too, will honor his memory; 
 
 m i 
 
■m 
 
 30 OBITUARY APDRESSES- 
 
 and when the roll of her dead heroes is called, his name 
 will resound through the American Valhalla among the 
 proudest and most heroic. 
 
 Address of Mr. Dixon, of Connecticut. 
 
 Mr. President: When death, in any of its ordinary 
 forms, enters this Chamber, and terminates the labors, 
 the responsibilities, and the anxieties of the position 
 here occupied, the occasion is necessarily one of the 
 highest interest to us as members of this body, and 
 scarcely less so to the entire nation. How much of 
 added interest is imparted by the peculiar circumstances 
 that surround the sad event which we are this day 
 called to deplore ! A senator, in the prime and glory of 
 manliood, enjoying the homage so lavishly and cheerfully 
 paid hy mankind to genius; endowed with an eloquence 
 truly wonderful in its scope, its fullness, and its resistless 
 power; and adding to this full measure of political honor 
 that still more brilliant and more coveted object of 
 ambition in noble minds — military glory — is suddenly 
 arrested in his distinguished career. The voice to which 
 men thronged to listen with such eager attention is 
 silent. The How of that torrent of ideas, expressed in 
 that boundless copiousness of language, and illustrated 
 by that exhaustless exuberance of fancy which has often 
 excited our wonder not less than our admiration, has 
 ceased forever with the life wdiich our departed friend 
 offered on the field of battle, as his willing sacrifice in the 
 cause of his country. A life like his — so honored, so 
 occupied, so rewarded by all that men most desire on 
 
 U- 
 
^ r^ 
 
 HON. EDWARD D. BAKER. 31 
 
 earth, and so closed, in such a cause as that which his 
 martyr-blood has doubly consecrated — surely is worthy 
 not only of interrupting the daily offices of the Senate 
 and of the Executive, but of arresting the attention and 
 exciting the profound sorrow of a. mourning nation. 
 
 The peculiar cii'cumstances of the death of Colonel 
 Baker have been already related. After he assumed 
 a command in the army of the Potomac, although not 
 unaccustomed to military hfe, there was, as many of his 
 friends perceived, an unwonted sadness in his expression, 
 always serious and contemplative. He had looked upon 
 civil war as an event certain to happen, unless averted 
 by some extraordinary means of negotiation. He had 
 declared himself willing to sacrifice somewhat of his 
 own not extreme views, to avert the impending calamity, 
 which he so clearly foresaw. But when the last hope of a 
 peaceful solution of our troubles, had been destroyed by 
 the flagrant acts of rebels in arms against the govern- 
 ment, he was not satisfied with merely giving his vote 
 as a senator, and his voice as an orator to the cause of 
 the Constitution. His sense of duty demanded of him 
 more than this. Yet, as I have already intimated, there 
 was perceived a more than usually saddened expression 
 in his eye, and an almost tender melancholy in the tones 
 of his voice, which might have satisfied any observer 
 that no selfish motive, no vulgar ambition, had prompted 
 hhn in the sacrifice he was making. I was not therefore 
 surprised when, in the last conversation I had with him, 
 I discovered with how deep a sjjirit of patriotic devotion 
 he had entered the military service. 
 
 The death which has so gloriously ended his earthly 
 labors was not unexpected; and in recalling his words 
 
 ■m 
 
g ^ 
 
 32 OBITUARY A1)])RESSES- 
 
 on the occasion to which I alhide, I can hardly suppose 
 it was undesircd. He felt and deplored, more deeply 
 perhaps than most of us, the condition of the country ; 
 and there was also, possibly, a presentiment in his highly 
 imaginative mind of his approaching end. If so, there 
 was no dread, no shrinking from any post of duty, how- 
 ever perilous. But I well remember how — here, near 
 the spot where I now stand, in language more emphatic 
 and more expressive than any I can now recall or com- 
 mand — he disavowed having been actuated by any desire 
 for military glory, in taking up arms for the defence of 
 the Constitution and the Union. It was the voice of 
 duty, and this alone, which called him to the field; and, 
 in ol)eying that call, he felt that he was offering his life. 
 I think, too, there was that in his bold and adventurous 
 spirit, that gave a mysterious charm to any duty accom- 
 panied by danger. Indeed, his nature seemed scarcely 
 capaljle of quiet and repose. There was a restlessness, 
 an impatience in his constitution, which would not suffer 
 him to be an unparticipating spectator in any great con- 
 flict, much less in one that involved the existence of the 
 nation. For him, therefore, to withhold his hand from 
 the sword, in this great controversy, would have been 
 an impossibility under any circumstances. Had he 
 known what death he was to die, his course would have 
 been the same; for he was evidently born of that blood 
 and imbued with that spirit which makes men feel 
 that it is 
 
 "Better to die beneath the shock, 
 Thau moulder, piecemeal, on the rock," 
 
 Although I became somewhat familiarly acquainted 
 with Colonel Baker nearly sixteen years ago, I know 
 
 ■m 
 
IP a 
 
 HON. EDWARD D. BAKEK. 33 
 
 little of Ills early mental habits, or of his course of dis- 
 cipline and study. Yet it was impossible to listen to 
 his ordinary conversation, or to his elaborate efforts in 
 the Senate, or, more especially, to those unsurpassed 
 specimens of eloquence which, without a moment's 
 preparation, he threw off, burning and sparkling, in the 
 heat and glow of extemporaneous debate, yet profusely 
 illustrated by allusions to all the varied fields of litera- 
 ture and science, without being assured that his intellect, 
 naturally of a high order, had been cultivated, strength- 
 ened, and enlarged, by close and careful study, and 
 enriched and adorned by an intimate acquaintance with 
 the choicest literature of our language. As an orator, 
 he was remarkable for an assured self-possession, which 
 gave him, at all times and under all circumstances, the 
 complete control of his mental powers. To this he 
 added a command of the English language so full and 
 complete, as perhaps to tempt him sometimes to indulge 
 in an affluence of diction too ornate and copious to 
 satisfy the strictest canons of criticism. Yet who that 
 listened to him in popular assemblies, — who that heard 
 or read his speeches in the Senate, or his occasional 
 addresses — especially that memorable oration uttered 
 on the shores of the Pacific, over the dead body of his 
 friend, the brave, the still lamented Broderick, the sur- 
 passing eloquence of which seemed to resound, in sad, 
 funereal tones, as far as the Atlantic coast, — could have 
 been willing that one of those glowing, expressive, 
 perhaps redundant words, had been omitted? 
 
 The brilliant talents of Senator Baker — his unsur- 
 passed powers as an orator, his self-poised reliance upon 
 his own capacities, his courage and his patriotism — 
 
 ■ m 
 
vQ 
 
 34 OBITUARY AI)])RESSES. 
 
 would not have been sufficient in themselves, without 
 the higher moral qualities which I think he possessed, 
 to win for him that large share of the admiration of his 
 countrymen which he enjoyed. He was, I have reason 
 to believe, not only a great, but a good man. He ac- 
 knowledged his accountability to his maker, and walked 
 through life in the light of that law of God, which irra- 
 diates the path of every man who seeks to know and to 
 perform his duty. Of the peculiar tenets of his religious 
 faith, I am uninformed; but his life, judging from its 
 outward manifestation here, was that of a Christian 
 statesman. What glories illustrated its close a grateful 
 country will not soon forget. It needed only to have 
 been breathed out in the arms of victory to have been 
 the end which he would have chosen. But though that 
 might have added to the joy with which he welcomed 
 death, nothing in his end was wanting to its glory. 
 What nobler epitaph could he have desired — what 
 nobler epitaph could any of those patriots desire who 
 now, in unnumljered hosts, emulous of his fame, are 
 ready to share his fate on the field of battle — than this: 
 He died for his Country! 
 
 Address of Mr. Suimner, of Massachusetts. 
 
 Mr. President: The Senator to whom we to-day say 
 farewell was generous in funeral homage to others. 
 More than once he held great companies in rapt atten- 
 tion while he did honor to the dead. Over the coffin 
 of Broderick he proclaimed the dying utterance of this 
 early victim, and gave to it the fiery wings of his own 
 
 © ^.^ —m 
 
^ . p 
 
 HON. EDWAED D. BAKER. 35 
 
 eloquence: "They have killed me, because I was op- 
 posed to the extension of slavery and a corrupt adminis- 
 tration;" and as the impassioned orator repeated these 
 words, his own soul was knit in sympathy with the 
 dead; and thus, at once, did he endear himself to the 
 friends of freedom, even at a distance. 
 
 "Who would not sing for Lyciclas? He knew 
 Himself to sing and bnild the lofty rhyme." 
 
 There are two forms of eminent talent which are 
 kindred in their eflects — each producing an instant 
 present impression, each holding crowds in suspense, 
 and each kindling enthusiastic admiration. I mean the 
 talent of the orator and the talent of the soldier. Each 
 of these, when successful, wins immediate honor, and 
 reads his praise in a nation's eyes. Baker was orator 
 and soldier. To him belongs the rare renown of this 
 double character. Perhaps he carried into war some- 
 thing of the confidence inspired 1)y the conscious sway 
 of great multitudes, as he surely brought into speech 
 something of the ardor of war. Call him, if you will, 
 the Prince Pupert of battle; he was also the Prince 
 Pupert of debate. 
 
 His success in life attests not only his own remarkable 
 genius, but the benign hospitality of our institutions. 
 Born on a foreign soil, he was to our country only a 
 step-son; but were he now alive, I doubt not he would 
 gratefully declare that the country was never to him an 
 ungentle step-mother. The child of poverty, he was 
 brought, while yet in tender years, to Philadelphia, 
 where he l^egan life an exile. His earliest days were 
 passed in the loom rather than at school; and yet, liom 
 this lowliness, he achieved tlie highest posts of trust 
 
 iQl 
 
4- 
 
 and honor — being at the same time senator and general. 
 It was the lioast of Pericles, in his limeral oration at 
 the Ceraraicus over the dead who had fallen in battle, 
 that the Athenians were ready to communicate all the 
 advantages which they enjoyed; that they did not ex- 
 clude the stranger from their walls; and that Athens 
 was a city open to the human family. The same boast 
 may be proudly repeated by us with better reason, as 
 we commemorate our dead fallen in battle. 
 
 From Philadelphia the poor man's son was carried 
 to the West, where he grew with the growth of that 
 surprising region. He became one of its children ; and 
 his own manhood was closely associated with its power- 
 ful progress. The honors of the bar and of Congress 
 soon were his ; but his impatient temper led him from 
 these paths into the Mexican war, where he gallantly 
 took the place of Shields — torn with wounds and almost 
 ^ead — at Cerro Gordo. But the great West, beginning 
 to teem with population, did not satisfy his ambition, 
 and he repaired to California. The child whose infancy 
 was rocked on the waves of the Atlantic — whose man- 
 hood was formed in the broad and open expanse of the 
 prairie — now sought a home on the shores of the Pacific, 
 saying, in the buoyant confidence of his nature, 
 
 "No pent lip Utica contracts our powers; 
 But the whole boundless continent is ours." 
 
 There again his genius was promptly recognised. A 
 ncNV State, which had just taken its place in the Union, 
 sent him as Senator; and Oregon first became truly 
 known to us on this floor by his eloquent lips. 
 
 In the Senate he at once took the place of orator. 
 His voice was not full or sonorous, but it was sharp 
 
 — m 
 
p 
 
 HON. EDWARD D. BAKER. 37 
 
 and clear. It was penetrating, rather than commancUng; 
 and yet, when touched by his ardent nature, it became 
 sympathetic, and even musical. His countenance, body, 
 and gesture, all shared the unconscious inspiration of 
 his voice, and he went on, master of his audience — 
 master also of himself. All his faculties were completely 
 at command. Ideas, illustrations, words, seemed to 
 come unbidden, and to range themselves in harmonious 
 forms, as in the walls of ancient Tliebes each stone 
 took its proper place of its own accord, moved only l)y 
 the music of a lyre. His fame as a speaker was so 
 peculiar, even before he appeared among us, that it was 
 sometimes supposed he might lack those solid powers, 
 without which the oratorical faculty itself can exercise 
 only a transient influence. But his speech on this floor 
 in reply to a slaveholding conspirator, now an open rebel, 
 showed that his matter was as good as his manner, and 
 that, while he was a master of fence, he was also a master 
 of ordnance. His controversy was graceful, sharp, and 
 flashing, like a cimeter; but his argument was powerful 
 and sweeping, like a battery. 
 
 You have not forgotten that speech. Perhaps the 
 argument against the sophism of secession was never 
 better arranged and combined, or more simply popular- 
 ized for the general apprehension. A generation had 
 passed since that traitorous absurdity — the fit cover of 
 conspiracy — had been exposed. It had shrunk for awhile 
 into darkness, driven back by the massive logic of Daniel 
 Webster and the honest sense of Andrew Jackson. 
 
 "The times have been, 
 That when the brains were out the man would die, 
 And there an end; but now they rise again." 
 
 -a 
 
■? 
 
 OBITUAEY ADDRESSES- 
 
 As the pretension showed itself anew, our orator 
 luidertook again to expose it. How thoroughly he did 
 this, now with historic, and now with forensic skill, 
 while his whole effort was elevated by a charming, 
 ever-ready eloquence, which itself was aroused to new 
 power by the interruptions which he encountered — 
 all this is present to your minds. That speech passed 
 at once into the permanent literature of the country, 
 wdiile it gave to its author an assured position in 
 this body. 
 
 Another speech showed him in a different character. 
 It ^^■as his instant reply to the Kentucky Senator, not 
 then expelled from this body. The occasion was pecu- 
 liar. A Senator, with treason in his heart, if not on his 
 lips, had just taken his seat. Our lamented Senator, 
 who had entered the Chamber direct from his camj), 
 rose at once to reply. He began simply and calmly; 
 but as he proceeded his fervid soul broke forth in words 
 of surpassing power. As on the former occasion he 
 had presented the well-ripened fruits of study, so now 
 he spoke with the spontaneous utterance of his own 
 natural and exuberant eloquence, meeting the polished 
 traitor at every point with weapons keener and brighter 
 than his own. 
 
 Not content with the brilliant opportunities of this 
 Chamber, he accepted a commission in the army, and 
 vaulted from the Senate to the saddle, as he had already 
 vaulted from Illinois to California. With a zeal that 
 never tired, after recruiting men, drawn by the attrac- 
 tion of his name, in New York and Philadelphia, and 
 elsewhere, he held his brigade in camp near the Capital, 
 so that he passed easily from one to the other, and 
 
 m m 
 
© -Q 
 
 HON. EDWARD D. BAKER. 39 
 
 thus alternated between the duties of a senator and a 
 general. ^ 
 
 His latter career was short, though shining. At a 
 disastrous encounter near Ball's Bluff he fell, pierced 
 by nine balls. That brain which had been the seat and 
 organ of such sul^tle power, swaying assemblies, and 
 giving to this child of obscurity place and command 
 among his fellow-men, was now rudely shattered; and 
 that bosom which had throbbed so bravely was rent by 
 numerous wounds. He died with his face to the foe; 
 and he died so instantly, that he passed without pain 
 from the service of his country to the service of his 
 God — while with him passed more than one gallant 
 youth, the hope of family and friends, sent forth by my 
 own honored Commonwealth. It is sweet and be- 
 coming to die for one's country. Such a death — 
 sudden, but not unprepared for — is the crown of the 
 patriot soldier's life. 
 
 But the question is painfully asked, who was the 
 author of this tragedy, now filling the Senate Chamber, 
 as it has already filled the country, with mourning? 
 There is a strong desire to hold somebody responsible, 
 where so many perished so unprofitably. But we need 
 not appoint committees or study testimony -in order to 
 kn(jw precisely who took this precious life. That great 
 criminal is easily detected — still erect and defiant, without 
 concealment or disguise. The guns, the balls, and the 
 men that fired them, are of little importance. It is the 
 Power behind them all, saying, "The State, it is I," 
 which took this precious life ; and this Power is Slavery. 
 The nine balls which slew our departed brother came 
 from Slavery. Every gaping wound of his slashed 
 
■m 
 
 40 . OBITUARY ADDRESSES- 
 
 ])osom testifies against Slavery. Every drop of his 
 generous blood cries out from the ground against Slavery. 
 The brain so rudely shattered, and the tongue so suddenly 
 silenced in death, speak now with more than living 
 eloquence against Slavery. To hold others responsible, is 
 to hold the dwarf agent and to dismiss the giant principal. 
 Nor shall we do great service if we merely criticise some 
 local blunder, while we leave untouched that flital for- 
 bearance through which the weakness of the rebellion 
 is changed into strength, and the strength of our armies 
 is changed into weakness. 
 
 Let not our grief to-day be a hollow pageant; let 
 it not expend itself in this funeral pomp. It must be- 
 come a motive and an impulse to patriot action. But 
 patriotism itself — that commanding charity, embracing 
 so many other charities — is only a name, and nothing 
 else, unless you resolve — calmly, plainly, solemnly — that 
 Slavery, — the barbarous enemy of our country; the 
 irreconcilable foe of our Union; the violator of our 
 Constitution; the disturber of our peace; the vampire 
 of our national life, sucking its best blood; the assassin 
 of our children, and the murderer of our dead senator, — 
 shall be struck down. And the way is easy. The just 
 Avenger is at hand, with weapon of celestial temper. 
 Let it be drawn. Until this is done, the patriot, dis- 
 cerning clearly the secret of our weakness, can only 
 say, sorrowfully — 
 
 "bleed, bleed, poor country! 
 
 Great tyranny, lay thou thy basis sure, 
 For goodness dare not check thee!" 
 
 •a) 
 
g . 
 
 HON. EDWARD D. BAKER. 41 
 
 Address of Mr. Latham, of CaUfornia. 
 
 Mr. President: Several years ago, in my own home, 
 one of the most brilhant tributes to the talented dead I 
 ever heard, fell from the lips of him whose memory we 
 to-day unite to honor. After a feeling review of the 
 eloquence and genial nature of the gifted Ferguson, Col- 
 onel Baker suddenly paused, and, with a sadness of tone 
 that was a fitting echo to the thought, exclaimed, "Who 
 will thus speak of me wh^-^ ^ am dead?" The desire 
 then expressed, hut no doubt soon forgotten, is more 
 than fulfilled in the just tribute we must all pay to the 
 gallant Baker. 
 
 Mr. President, during the lifetime of the deceased, 
 although not classified among his warmest friends, yet 
 our relations were of the most amicable and cordial 
 nature. Always opposed in political opinion, through 
 several strifeful years, the pleasant recollection yet re- 
 mains of not one unkind word or act to blight the 
 respect felt for him while living, and my sincere sorrow 
 at his death. I never knew a man of more kindness of 
 disposition, more willing to make allowance for the 
 shortcomings common to all, or more ready in praise, 
 when deserved. Seemingly conscious of his power, he 
 never deemed it necessary for his own advancement to 
 disparage true talent and personal worth in others. An 
 entire absence of vindictive malice, the quick forgetful- 
 ness of even an injury or wrong inflicted, quiet compo- 
 sure amid trying scenes of an eventful life, all bespoke 
 those gentle qualities which made him a fond father, a 
 good husband, and a devoted friend. 
 
It is not my purpose to analyze Colonel Baker's 
 character. Others, who enjoyed more of his confidence, 
 can speak more accurately. If one quality marked him 
 in public life more than any other, and impressed his 
 whole career, it was his singleness of purpose. His 
 early struggles in life, his self-taught mind, his school of 
 adversity, his ardent and poetical temperament, all in- 
 fused into his very soul the most powerful and sincere 
 love of individual emulation and freedom, in the broad- 
 est acceptation of that term. He has left upon record 
 as glowing sentiments as -^^'^^ fell from the lips of man 
 in that great cause. Upon this subject, on every occa- 
 sion — at the bar, on the hustings, and in the Senate — 
 wherever his mind seized upon it, it became not " elo- 
 quence," it was fiery inspiration. Views upon the rights 
 of human liberty and the dignity of free labor, were with 
 him no "mawkish sentimentaKiy;" they controlled and 
 influenced his whole life from boyhood to the grave. 
 Hence it was that when this unprecedented rebellion 
 raised its front against our just and free government, 
 Senator Baker, by his life and the occupation of each 
 moment, was willing to prove the sincerity of his words. 
 But two weeks prior to his death, he remarked to me, 
 as he had to others: "I shall never come out this strug- 
 gle alive. The presentment of death is upon me." 
 Even then the dark wings of the coming messenger 
 were over him, and he walked courageously forward 
 l)eneath their sad shadow — 
 
 "As drops of rain foil into some dark well, 
 And from below comes a scarce audible sound, 
 So fall our tliouglits into the dark licreafter, 
 And tlieir mysterious eclio reaches us." 
 
m 
 
 HON. EDWARD D. BAKER. 43 
 
 Endeavoring to persuade him that he should not give 
 way to gloomy forebodings, well calculated to destroy his 
 peace of mind and usefulness in his duties, I shall never 
 forget, Senators, the sad but earnest manner in which he 
 replied: "I am charged with having much to do by my 
 speech in bringing these troubles upon our country. I 
 only hope to have more to do by my acts in ending 
 them." 
 
 "Among inmimorable false, unmoved, 
 Unshaken, uuscduced, unterrified, 
 His loyalty lie kept, liis love, his zeal ; 
 Nor number, nor example with him wrought 
 To swerve from truth or change his constant mind, 
 Though single." 
 
 The most brilliant mental efforts of his life are not 
 upon record. The sudden bursts of his often matchless 
 eloquence have passed away with the time and occasion 
 of their utterance. Those preserved of his addresses 
 on different occasions are cold and formal, compared 
 with others uttered without premeditation, when under 
 the inspiration of the moment his mind glowed with the 
 fire of genius and strength. His ease and grace of 
 delivery, his felicity of expression, his wonderful flow of 
 harmonious language, the musical intonations of his voice, 
 can never be forgotten by those who have heard him in 
 many of his happy efforts. His eulogies upon Senator 
 Broderick and Mr. Ferguson, a State senator of Cahfor- 
 nia, are specimens of the highest oratorical pathos; while 
 his oration in San Francisco upon celebrating the laying 
 of the Atlantic cable, contains passages of the greatest 
 sublimity and l^eauty. In my judgment, his impromptu 
 reply to Senator Breckinridge, during our session in July, 
 
 lir & 
 
44 OBITUARY ADDRESSES. 
 
 was his ablest in the Senate. But the genial nature, the 
 eloquent tongue, the mind which reveled in its own 
 exuberant creations, now sleeps in those cerements 
 which at last embrace with their chill folds all the 
 children of men. 
 
 Mr. President, let us not mourn the death of our com- 
 panion. With my estimate of his character, it was a 
 noble conclusion to an almost romantic history. As we 
 are told 
 
 " The paths of glory lead but to the grave," 
 why regret the certain end, when the feet of the noble 
 dead have trod all the flowery ways of enthusiasm, elo- 
 quence, and patriotism ? Colonel EmvER was ambitious, 
 he died a Senator; he was eloquent — he held a Senate 
 captive and heard the plaudits of an admiring people ; 
 he was patriotic — he could do no more than sacrifice 
 his life upon the altar of his country amid the shock of 
 Ijattle, and leading tiie van. The measure of human aims 
 with him was complete. Half a, century of winters had 
 scattered their snows upon his head — public judgment 
 had awarded him a place among the most eloquent, and 
 thus honored and beloved he has filled his destiny. 
 
 Our people on the far off Pacific will gather around 
 his bier and by silent tears testify not his but their own 
 loss and affliction. 
 
 The restless waves of a great ocean will moan for ages 
 to come beside his grave, and his honored ashes lie in 
 the peaceful shadow of the Lone Mountain, that natural 
 monument for the loved and lost of our new empire. 
 
 The resolutions were adopted unanimously, and the 
 Senate adjourned. 
 
 ■m 
 
HON. EDWARD D. BAKER. 45 
 
 IN THE HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES. 
 Friday, January 22, 1862. 
 
 DEATH OF SENATOR BAKER. 
 
 A MESSAGE from the Senate, by Mr. Hickey, its 
 chief clerk, communicated to the House resolutions 
 passed by the Senate on the occasion of the announce- 
 ment of the death of Hon. Edward D. Baker, late a 
 Senator from the State of Oregon. 
 
 The message from the Senate was read, as follows: 
 
 In Senate of the United States, 
 
 Decanhcr 11, 1861. 
 
 Resolved, unanimously. That the members of the Senate, from a 
 sincere desu-c of showing every mark of respect due to the memory 
 of Hon. Edavard D. Baker, deceased, late a Senator from the 
 State of Oregon, will go into mourning by wearing crape on the 
 left arm for thirty days. 
 
 Resolved, unanimously, That, as an additional mark of respect 
 for the memory of Hon. Edward D. Baker, the Senate do now 
 adjourn. 
 
 Resolved, That the Secretary of the Senate communicate these 
 resolutions to the House of Representatives. 
 
 @ — m 
 
u ■ :f 
 
 46 OBITUAEY ADDRESSES- 
 
 Acldress of Mr. Sheil, of Oregon. 
 
 If the message just read lias not startled us from our 
 usual decorum by announcing an unexpected calamity, 
 its effect is not the less painful, since it awakens 
 memories of a rooted sorrow. 
 
 Colonel E. D. Baker is dead. He fell at the head of 
 
 his column, while bravely, gallantly engaging the enemy 
 
 at BaU's Bluff, in the State of Virginia, on the 21st of 
 
 last October. His fellow officers and men bear honor- 
 
 a1)le and gratifying testimony of his daring courage in 
 
 that his first engagement during the present war. Such 
 
 courage as he there displayed has commanded the 
 
 universal admiration of all times; and so ennobling is 
 
 this enthusiasm for the truly brave, that w^e can confess 
 
 to be hero worshippers without being guilty of idolatry. 
 
 In the personal history of the deceased, there is a 
 
 lesson well calculated to inspire hope and stimulate 
 
 ambition for worthy purposes in the youth of our coming 
 
 generations. No pampered ease or "castle of indolence" 
 
 was his by virtue of his birthright. The solemn but 
 
 merciful decree passed upon "man's first disobedience" — 
 
 that in the siveat of thy face shalt thou eat bread — 
 
 promised him no royal road to this world's honors. 
 
 Yet there was no sinking of the heart, no relaxing of 
 
 the muscles, nor pahng of the cheek, when he went 
 
 forth as a volunteer to the great and most merciless 
 
 of aU l^attle-fields — the world. Years rolled on, and 
 
 manhood found him still in the field, but without 
 
 promotion. 
 
At this period his mind must have been improved l)y 
 refining and elevating studies, or some new impulse 
 must have awakened an ambition that at no time pre- 
 vious seemed to have engaged his thoughts or influenced 
 his actions; for thenceforth he evidently determined to 
 seek glory by the mind, rather than by bodily strength. 
 His repeated triumphs, and the many honors fairly won 
 in his new field of labor, fully justified him in his high 
 resolve. 
 
 A youth when landing upon our shores, without 
 friends, fortune, or even what is considered an education, 
 before he reached the meridian of life he was honored 
 with the credentials of a Senator in the Senate of the 
 United States by the legislature of the State of Oregon — 
 the highest honor that a sovereign State of this Union 
 can confer upon her citizens. 
 
 Those of us who have been so fortunate as to have 
 heard Colonel Baker in his forensic efforts l^efore the 
 people, or on the floor of tliis House or of the Senate, 
 cannot easily let slip the silver thread of memory that 
 renews our pleasures by reviving such delightful remi- 
 niscences. True, he had not the statesmanlike gravity 
 and ponderous utterance of a Webster, nor the oratorical 
 elegance of a Clay, nor the stern and unanswerable logic 
 of a Calhoun; but he had a mind stored with the richest 
 treasures of English literature; a fluency as inexhausti- 
 ble as a well of living waters ; a vivid imatjination, thoui»h 
 never violating the rules of correct taste ; a memory that 
 had complete control over the storehouse of his knowl- 
 edge; and a delivery apparently unstudied, and yet so 
 graceful, that gave to his elocpience a power which, if it 
 did not always convince, it was always certain to please. 
 
 '#■ 
 
^ _ rj^ 
 
 48 OBITUARY AI>])RESSES. 
 
 Oil the successful completion, as it was believed for 
 a short time, of the submarine telegraph between the 
 United States and Great Britain, our citizens, from one 
 end of the land to the other, manifested their delight 
 by speeches, processions, and other public demonstra- 
 tions, for what they regarded as the greatest achievement 
 of modern science. The citizens of San Francisco 
 celebrated the event with becoming ceremony. They 
 selected Colonel Baker as orator for the occasion ; and 
 fully did his peerless effort justify their choice. He 
 saw^ not "as in a glass, darkly," but by the clear light of 
 intelligent calculation, that while one end of the line 
 might be in London, the other must ultimately be on 
 the shores of the Pacific. And thus the ties of home, 
 and kindred, and friends, and the bonds of interest were 
 no longer to be loosened by time, nor weakened by 
 distance. To the citizens of that Ultima Thule of the 
 Republic such a picture of such a future, though drawn 
 by an inferior hand, would appeal with thrilling effect. 
 But while the original enterprise failed — an enter- 
 prise so grand in its conception, so benefiicent in its 
 anticipated results — its extension across the continent is 
 a successtully established fact. Yet while we rejoice in 
 this noble proof of American enterprise, the melancholy 
 reflection will be ever associated with these incidents, 
 that among the first telegrams sent over this same line 
 to the Pacific, there was one that announced the death in 
 battle of the gifted orator. 
 
 The remarks which I have just made have been 
 necessarily very brief My limited acquaintance with 
 Colonel Baker, owing to the shortness of his residence 
 in Oregon, as well as a wide divergence in our political 
 
 m- 
 
q 
 
 HON. EDWARD D. BAKER. 49 
 
 views and faith, prevent me from detailing more par- 
 ticularly the traits of his character, as also the distin- 
 guished achievements of his military prowess. Aware 
 that there are others who will fully and more ably supply 
 my deficiency, I feel less apprehension than I otherwise 
 should. 
 
 As the representative of the State of Oregon, duty, 
 consecrated by an impulse that finds a home in every 
 generous heart, demands this offering to the memory of 
 the deceased. 
 
 But, sir, there is something more than a sense of 
 duty that prompts me to take part in this solemn cere- 
 mony. I would do injustice to my feelings if I refused, 
 on such an occasion as the present, to pay my humble 
 tribute to the memory of a gallant officer and an eloquent 
 Senator. 
 
 I offer the following resolutions: 
 
 Resolved, That the House of Representatives of the United 
 States has received with the deepest sensibility the intelligence of 
 the death of Hon. E. D. Baker. 
 
 Resolved, That the members and officers of the House of Rep- 
 resentatives Avill wear the usual badge of mourning for thirty days, 
 as a testimony of the profound respect that the House entertains for 
 the memory of the deceased. 
 
 Resolved, That the proceedings of this House in relation to the 
 death of Hon. E. D. Baker be communicated to the family of the 
 deceased by the Clerk. 
 
 Resolved, That, as a further mark of respect to the memory of 
 the deceased, this House do now adjourn. 
 
 le M 
 
p ■ m 
 
 50 OBITUARY ADDRESSES. 
 
 Address of Mr. Phelps, of CaUfornia. 
 
 Mr. Speaker: In sorrowfulness of spirit, such as 
 I have seldom felt, I rise to second the resolutions 
 proposed by the honorable member from Oregon. 
 
 As a friend and admirer of the deceased Senator, and 
 as a representative of California, I should be doing 
 injustice alike to my own feelings and to the feelings of 
 those who have honored me with a seat upon this floor, 
 did I allow the opportunity to pass without adding my 
 tribute, however humble, to his memory and worth. 
 
 This, Mr. Speaker, is a time in our history tliat tries 
 the materials of which men are made. It may have 
 been difficult heretofore, but now the chaff is easily 
 separated from the wheat — the base metal from the 
 gold. Perhaps no higher eulogy could be passed upon 
 the lamented Senator than to say, no man who knew 
 Edward Dickinson Baker ever doubted his loyalty 
 and devotion to the Federal Government. When this 
 rebellion burst upon the country, enveloping it in darkness 
 black as night, — when no friendly star penetrated the 
 gloom — when a large portion of our people had forgotten 
 the struggles and teachings of our fathers, and the beauties 
 and blessings of our liberal institutions, and had allowed 
 their hearts to become alienated from the Government, 
 until they found themselves arrayed in arms against and 
 endeavoring to overthrow it, and a greater number still 
 were apathetic — when the very pillars were crumbling, 
 and the foundation stones were settling away, threaten- 
 ing a total destruction of the whole structure, — it was 
 not doubted where Colonel Baker would be found. All 
 
 g) g 
 
HON. EDWARD D. BAKER. 51 
 
 knew that his eloquent voice would be heard defending 
 the Constitution and Government; that he would speak 
 such words of encouragement and hope as would energize 
 the timid and the weak, and that his arm would be 
 reached out to protect and to defend. 
 
 Oh ! that all of his associates in the Senate had been 
 like him ! Then the earth would not have been con- 
 vulsed by the mighty throes of this great Republic; 
 then the nation would not have bled from every pore, as 
 she now Ijleeds. He was always ready to defend the 
 honor of the Government, whether upon the stump, in 
 the National Councils, or in the tented field. His great 
 heart was so wedded to it that it had not a pulsation 
 Ijut what was devotional, and could not, by any possi- 
 bility, have been swerved from its loyalty. Like the 
 old cannon at Sumter, which, though it had been used 
 perhaps a hundred times to thunder forth salvos in honor 
 of the stars and stripes when proudly and defiantly 
 unfurled to the breeze, yet when used to salute it on 
 being hauled down, after capitulation to a treasonable 
 foe, burst into fragments; so would the heart of Colonel 
 Baker, ere it could have been turned from its allegiance 
 to a government that had so long received its warmest 
 pulsations and truest devotion. 
 
 It was a matter of congratulation with all loyal men 
 in California — and, thank Heaven! the great mass of 
 the people there are as loyal, and true, as any who 
 breathe the inspiring air of liberty — that the country 
 had Colonel Baker in its chief council, in the place of 
 one who had forgotten alike his duty to his government^ 
 and the binding force of his oath of office to support 
 the Constitution. California never regarded him as 
 
 y m 
 
belonging particularly to Oregon, but as well to herself, 
 and tlie whole country. Besides, as he was long a citizen 
 there, she claims, by having given him prominence, no 
 small share of the credit of his having been placed in 
 the Senate. 
 
 It should be remarked that this loyal defender of the 
 Government, to whom so many thousands looked for 
 counsel and direction when that Government was attacked 
 by this giant rebellion, this bold and daring warrior 
 chieftain, whose fiery words of stirring eloquence, assisted 
 so much in fanning into a flame the slumbering embers 
 of patriotism in the bosoms of our people, was not a 
 native of the country. Yet how many of our citizens, 
 who are natives of the soil, and inherit the blood of 
 revolutionary sires, might learn a lesson of duty and 
 patriotism from him. The loyalty of Baker, Sigcl, 
 Corcoran, and their brave countrymen, demonstrates the 
 wisdom of our fathers in inviting them to our shores, 
 and extending to them all the benefits of our republican 
 institutions. They had struggled for years through 
 difficulties that would have appalled a less brave and 
 indomitable people, to gain the independence of the 
 country, and which, being established, they magnani- 
 mously tendered to the oppressed of every land a home, 
 and full participation in, and enjoyment of, its liberal pro- 
 visions. In doing this, our fathers truly cast their bread 
 upon the waters, which, after many days, has returned 
 to aid us with the assistance of this class of our fellow- 
 citizens, who are to-day gallantly bearing arms in defense 
 of the government, and among the leaders of whom 
 Baker, Sigel, and Corcoran have been prominent. 
 
 It is no wonder that the leaders of the traitors, whose 
 
 jg: ^3 
 
m m 
 
 HON. EDWARD D. BAKER. 53 
 
 headquarters are at Richmond, should desire to hmit 
 the right of the elective franchise, and to change our 
 naturalization laws, as our foreign-born citizens furnish 
 the poorest material out of which to manufacture traitors, 
 for the reason that many of them have tasted of tyranny 
 in the Old World, and have no longing for it here. 
 General Baker was born in the city of London, in the 
 year 1811. In 1815 his father, Edward Baker, removed 
 with his family to this country, settling in the city of 
 Philadelphia, where they resided for about ten years. 
 In 1825 he removed his family to Illinois, where the 
 early manhood of Edward Dickinson Baker was spent, 
 and where his remarkable mind ripened into full power 
 and elegance. Young Baker studied law in the office 
 of Judge Caverly, at Carrolton, at which place he mar- 
 ried a lady of high character and position, who still 
 survives him. In 1835 he removed to Springfield, 
 Illinois. In 1837 he was elected to the legislature of 
 that State, and re-elected soon thereafter. He served 
 from 1840 to 1844 in the State Senate. In 1844 he 
 was elected to a seat in this branch of the National 
 Legislature, serving with distinction until the breaking 
 out of the difficulties with Mexico, when he proceeded 
 to Springfield, and raised a regiment of young men, who 
 were immediately accepted by the Government, and 
 embarked for the war. 
 
 On arriving at Matamoros, irregularities were discov- 
 ered that demanded immediate attention, and Colonel 
 Baker came to Washington as bearer of dispatches. 
 AVhen he arrived here Congress was in session, and 
 avaihng himself of his right to a seat, he pleaded the 
 cause of the volunteers, then in the field, in a speech of 
 
 m 
 
n 
 
 54 OBITUARY ADDRESSES. 
 
 great force and power. His mission to Washington 
 accomplislied, he resigned his seat in the House, and 
 returned to his regiment in time to share in the siege 
 of Vera Cruz, and served with distinction during the re- 
 mainder of the war. After its close, he was again elected 
 to a seat in this House, and served his term with great in- 
 dustry and success. His eulogy, pronounced during that 
 term, upon the death of President Taylor, is one of the 
 gems that ornament the proceedings of Congress. In 
 1852 he went to California, establishing himself in the city 
 of San Francisco, where he practised his profession with 
 success, notwithstanding he took strong grounds against 
 certain popular movements, which would have destroyed 
 the popularity of any other man. J3ut Colonel Baker 
 could not be unpopular, as his eloquence always charmed, 
 though it did not always convince the multitude. 
 
 It was my good fortune to become acquainted with 
 him soon after his arrival in San Francisco. That 
 acquaintance soon ripened into friendship, and a friendly 
 intercourse existed between us until his death. 
 
 On his advent into California, he found a political 
 despotism reigning there, as corrupt, as it was intolerant, 
 which had well-nigh crushed out the last relic of political 
 freedom, and the last hope of freemen. This state of 
 things was sufficient to enlist his earnest attention, and 
 he finally yielded his determination to eschew politics 
 altogether, to the clamors of those desiring reform in 
 the city and State governments, who thought his popu- 
 larity would secure his election, and his ability enable 
 him to effect the desired reformation, and became a 
 candidate for the State senate in 1855. I was among 
 those selected on the legislative ticket with him; but 
 
 m — — m 
 
HON. EDWARD D. BAKER. 55 
 
 tliougli a stirring canvass was made, we suffered a 
 Waterloo defeat. This, however, instead of dishearten- 
 ing, only aroused his energies and fixed his determination. 
 In 1856 he entered the field for Fremont, and, though 
 there was no hope of carrying California, made a brilliant 
 canvass of the State. During this campaign, it frequently 
 happened that no person of his political sentiments could 
 be found to introduce him to his audiences, when he 
 would either introduce himself, or some person noto- 
 riously opposed to his principles, would volunteer to 
 render him that service. But notwithstandinof so few 
 at this time agreed with him politically, so great was his 
 reputation as an orator, he could always command larger 
 audiences than perhaps any other man in the State; and 
 though he suffered defeat after defeat, in successive 
 campaigns, he never relaxed his energies, his hold upon 
 the public mind, or his determination to see the com- 
 plete triumph of freedom of speech in California. He 
 knew that intolerance could not last always, and that 
 reformation, justice, and freedom of speech and of the 
 press, must finally prevail. 
 
 After struggling along from year to year until his 
 object was nearly an accomplished fact, or at least until 
 the dawn of a new era was faintly preceptible, he went 
 in 1859 to Oregon, where he entered immediately the 
 political arena, and after a brilliant campaign was 
 elected to the Senate. From this period his acts are so 
 intimately blended with the history of the country, and 
 are so well understood, I need not advert to them. To 
 his unyielding determination, coupled with his undying 
 love for free institutions, his glowing eloquence and 
 unanswerable logic, is California indebted, more than to 
 
 13 
 
any other man, for the entire overthrow of the pohtical 
 despotism that so long held her in its traitorous grasp. 
 And the whole country is also indebted to him in no 
 small degree, that California is to-day in the Union l)y 
 her own act and choice, and as true and loyal as any 
 State over which the banner of freedom waves. 
 
 Years ago, when our present dithculties were only 
 foreseen by the wise and cautious, and scarcely believed 
 to be of probable occurrence by them, Baker was 
 engaged in moulding public sentiment, and inculcating 
 something like a proper respect for the sacred right of 
 freedom of speech upon all questions of public policy. 
 
 The oligarchy that ruled the State as with a rod of. 
 iron, claiming to represent it here and elsewhere, but 
 who outraged every sentiment of the great mass of the 
 people, and betrayed every trust confided to them, saw, 
 doubtless, that he was dangerous to the existence of their 
 power; but they could not reach hin in any way. He 
 gave them no cause of attack; cool, courteous, and affa- 
 ble, he would meet them with weapons they knew not 
 how to use — logic, eloquence, and moral heroism. They 
 were even forced to applaud his eloquence, which seemed 
 to thrill and charm all who sat beneatli it; but his clear 
 logic they would seek to bury lieneath their subtle sophis- 
 tries, or dispel its force by mere denunciation. 
 
 Perhaps the most saddening event that befell Colonel 
 Baker in California was the death of his friend — the 
 determined, true, loyal, gallant, lion-hearted Senator 
 Broderick. They had just been through a campaign 
 together, armed only with truth and justice; and followed 
 by an undisciplined train of supporters, having had to meet 
 an organization that had always held despotic sway, they 
 
 IQI . ^ 
 
HON. EDWARD D. BAKER. 57 
 
 were, as might have been expected, unsuccessful While 
 their hearts were still sore at the want of success of their 
 cherished principles, Broderick fell a victim to that code, 
 unjust as it is cruel and barbarous, that, in some sections 
 of the country, still disgraces alike humanity and the age 
 in which we live. The whole State was sensibly affected 
 by the death of one they had looked upon as a cham- 
 pion, as true to his principles as the needle to the north 
 pole. Thousands, even among those who had always 
 opposed him politically, as they gazed upon his inani- 
 mate form, paid the tribute of tears to the fallen hero. 
 Colonel Baker, by general consent, became the funeral 
 orator, and in words of pathetic eloquence did justice to 
 the memory of one so daring, so noble, and so true. 
 But where will the orator be found in California, or here, 
 who will be able to do justice to the memory of the self- 
 sacrificing, patriotic, and gallant Colonel Baker ? 
 
 As a noticeable incident, I may be permitted to remark, 
 that some years ago, when it was supposed that a strong 
 and durable cable had been laid through the Atlantic, 
 that would thereafter pulsate with thought between the 
 great hearts of the Old and Nev^ World, the people of 
 the metropolis of the Pacific duly celebrated the event. 
 Always enterprising and enthusiastic, the citizens turned 
 out in vast numbers; and Colonel Baker, being one who 
 could always meet the expectations of the people, was 
 chosen to deliver an address on the occasion, and acquit- 
 ted himself with great credit. All those who had the 
 pleasure of listening to him on that occasion pronounced 
 his efibrt one of the most chaste and elegant discourses 
 to which they had ever listened. Years of busy tumult 
 had rolled their round, when certain energetic persons 
 
 S- 
 
determined upon the construction of a trans-continental 
 telegraph hue, that should unite the far-off shores of the 
 Pacific with the Atlantic sea-board. In due time the 
 great work was commenced, and the people watched its 
 progress with much interest, until finally they were told 
 that on the morrow it would be completed, and they 
 brought within instant communication with their old 
 homes; when, though separated by mountain chains, 
 valleys, and wide-spreading deserts, husbands and fathers 
 could converse, by the aid of the electric current, with 
 wives and children, from whom they had been separated 
 for years, as though they again surrounded the family 
 hearth. That morrow came, and the citizens of San 
 Francisco had prepared to celebrate that event, also, with 
 fitting demonstrations of joy. The wires were at last 
 joined together. Distance had been overcome. The 
 stormy Atlantic and the peaceful Pacific, separated since 
 the beginning of time, if not now united, were at least 
 brought within speaking distance of each other. But 
 all rejoicing was soon terminated. The first message 
 that flashed from east to west over the wires announced 
 the death of Colonel Baker. Quick almost as the elec- 
 tric flash that conveyed the message there, did the cur- 
 rent of sorrow run through the city. Joy faded from 
 the faces of the multitude. The crowded streets were 
 hushed into silence; and in place of loud rejoicing came 
 the whispered accents of mourning. All who loved the 
 Union and the old flag, felt that one of the most eloquent 
 defenders of the former had fallen heroically defending 
 the latter. All agreed a great man had passed away. 
 Thousands mourned in him the loss of a true and gener- 
 ous friend. All mourned for the great orator whose 
 
 lb:- 
 
silvery voice they had so often heard as it stole out in 
 harmonious cadences upon the evening air, on occasions 
 well remembered, when his eloquence had seemed to 
 lift them above the conflicting elements of the world 
 into a sphere of poetry and thought which his genius had 
 created. A great party mourned the loss of an intrepid 
 leader, who had done so much to call it into existence in 
 that State, and cause it to become the ruling power. 
 They felt that, to use his own words, pronounced upon 
 the death of the lamented Broderick, "as in hfe no other 
 voice among us so rang its trumpet blast upon the ear 
 of freemen, so in death its echoes will reverberate amidst 
 our mountains and our valleys, until truth and valor cease 
 to appeal to the human heart." 
 
 And there were others there whose sorrow could only 
 be comforted by the hand of the Almighty Father who 
 had called the valiant hero home. A loving, trustino- 
 wife was apprised by that despatch that she was thence- 
 forth a widow, and daughters were informed that a kind 
 and indulgent father had died " doing duty." I would 
 not disturb the sublimity of their sorrow, or quietude of 
 their woe; and yet, I would assure them that a grateful 
 country will hold in sacred remembrance those who fall 
 in defense of our great inheritance — the Constitution 
 and the Union. To the sorrow-stricken wqdow and 
 children I would say, weep not, grieve not; it is glorious 
 to die in defense of one's country, in the performance of 
 the highest earthly duty; and dying thus, to the patriot 
 death is robbed of its sting. 
 
 Could I speak to-day to Washington and his com- 
 patriots, who struggled so long to establish this Govern- 
 ment for us, and to Baker, Lyon, and Ellsworth, and 
 
 m ' m 
 
their brave comrades who have fallen in its defense, I 
 would acknowledge to the former that we have sinned 
 deeply ; that the Government which they established has 
 taken to its bosom many vipers, who, after being w^armed 
 into strength and power, have stung it until every 
 artery has flowed with a green, corrupting, and poisonous 
 current ; l)ut I would assure them that it is recovering 
 from it; and that we see cheering evidences that it will 
 soon be restored to full health, strength, and vigor in all its 
 parts, without undergoing the amputation of any member 
 of its great body; and the latter I would assure, that the 
 great cause for which they risked and sacrificed their lives 
 is constantly progressing, and that the armed hosts mar- 
 shaled in defense of the Constitution will onward, and 
 onward, and onward move, until every armed foe is driven 
 from the limits of the country, and every rebel footprint 
 is obliterated from our soil. To accomplish this, let tlie 
 loyal people emuhite the self-abnegating example of the 
 brave Colonel Baker. Let our Army strike quick, and 
 hard, and home upon the enemy, and treason will melt 
 and flee away. Follow his example, 
 
 "And the star-spangled banner in triumpli shall wave 
 O'er the laud of the free, and the home of the brave." 
 
 in every State and Territory, that has ever acknowledged 
 its sway. 
 
 The remains of the late Senator have been removed 
 fo-r burial to my far-off" home of the West, where the 
 waves of the mild Pacific gently lave the golden sands 
 from the Sierra's slopes. 
 
 "Good friend! true hero!" to your memory hail: to 
 the kind face, the genial companion, the manly form, 
 farewell! 
 
 -JBl 
 
Address of Mr. Colfax, of Indiana. 
 
 Mr. Speaker: The funeral procession of the departed 
 Baker has passed through the crowded streets of our 
 Atlantic cities. The steamer, perhaps to-day, is bearing 
 its precious burden between the portals of the Golden 
 Gate. The thousands who, with enthusiastic acclaim, 
 cheered his departure as a Senator, stand, with bowed 
 frames, and bared heads, and weeping eyes, to receive 
 with honor, but with sorrow, the lifeless remains that 
 are to be buried in their midst. And there devolves 
 upon us, his former associates, brought by the telegraph 
 almost to the side of his open grave, the duty of render- 
 ing also our tribute of affection to his memory. 
 
 To say that the deceased Senator was an extraordi- 
 nary man, is simply to reiterate what the whole country 
 long since conceded. He carved out his own niche in 
 the temple of fame. He built his own pedestal in our 
 American Valhalla. And if the French philosopher 
 D'Alembert was correct in saying that there are but 
 three ways of rising in the world — to soar, to crawl, and 
 to climb — our friend's history is a striking exemplifica- 
 tion of the last and worthiest of these ways. The hand- 
 loom weaver boy of Philadelphia — the friendless lad, with 
 his whole fortune in a meager bundle, turning his face 
 westward — the patient journey, footsore and weary, over 
 mountains and valleys — the deputy in the clerk's office 
 at Carrolton, patiently mastering the principles of the 
 law — his rapid rise in his profession — his election to 
 Congress from the capital of Illinois — his volunteering 
 in the Mexican war, and raising, equipping, and march- 
 ing his regiment within fourteen days — his brilliant 
 
 y- 
 
m m 
 
 62 OBITUARY ADDRESSES. 
 
 cliarge at Ccrrb Gordo, when following up the victory 
 which his impetuous and dashing heroism had mainly 
 won, he pursued the enemy for miles with fearful 
 slaughter — his removal, on his return, to another con- 
 gressional district, which he carried by his wonderful 
 eloquence against its previous political convictions — his 
 removal to California — his thrilling oration over the 
 murdered Broderick — his triumphant canvass in Ore- 
 gon — his election to the Senate by a legislature, a large 
 majority of which differed with him in their political 
 associations — his brilliant and impromptu denunciations 
 of traitors, whom, in the Senate Chamber, he propheti- 
 cally hurled from the Tarpeian rock — his exchanging 
 the robe of the Senator for the sword of the Soldier — 
 his daring struggle to wrest victory, against overwhelm- 
 ing odds, from fate itself — and his death at the head of 
 his column, literally with his back to the field and his 
 face to the foe — what an eventful life, to be crowned 
 by such a glorious death. 
 
 We know not but that death may have been as wel- 
 come to him as life, especially when he fell in such a 
 sacred cause. Some long for death on the battle-field, 
 knowing that it is appointed for all men once to die, and 
 that he who dies for his country is enshrined forever in 
 thousands upon thousands of patriot hearts. Others 
 who, if we could put a window in their breasts, we 
 would find that they carried a burden of care or sorrow 
 through life, feel that the shaft of death, when sped by 
 its messenger, would have no pain for them. And with 
 others, life is so joyous that the hour of their departure 
 is one of gloom, and thick darkness encompasses the 
 valley their feet must tread. But for our friend, who 
 
 -a) 
 
■M 
 
 HON. EDWARD D. BAKER. 63 
 
 had won liis way to his highest ambition, and who fell, 
 in the very zenith of his fame, in defense of the Consti- 
 tution and the Union, charging at the head of advancing 
 columns, careless of danger, of odds, or of death, leaving 
 behind him a glory which shall survive long after his 
 tombstone has molded into dust — we should rather weave 
 for him a garland of joy than a chaplet of sorrow. 
 
 I know there was sadness in the family, which no 
 earthly sympathy can assuage. I know there was sad- 
 ness at the White House, where his early friends 
 mourned their irreparable loss. I know there was sad- 
 ness at the Capitol; sadness on the Atlantic coast; 
 sadness in the valley of the Mississippi; sadness as one 
 of the first messages flashed along the wire he had so 
 earnestly longed to see stretched from ocean to ocean, 
 boi'e to the Pacific the tidings of their great loss. There 
 was sadness around the camp-fires of over a half-million 
 gallant volunteers, who, like him, had offered their lives 
 to their country in its hour of trial. So, too, if the legends 
 of antiquity intend to commemorate some patriotic sacri- 
 fice of life by the story of Curtius leaping into an open 
 gulf to save the Roman repul^lic, was there sorrow doubt- 
 less at his fate. And sadness, too, when Leonidas, at 
 the head of his feeble band, looked death calmly in the 
 face, and gave up his narrow span of earthly life to live 
 immortalized in history. 
 
 But, though there may be sadness such as this, let us 
 also rejoice that our friend has left behind him such a 
 record and such a fame, heightened by his magical elo- 
 quence, and hallowed forever by his fervid patriotism. 
 For, doubly crowned, as Statesman and as Warrior, 
 
 "From the top of fome's ladder he stepped to the sky." 
 
 ah 
 
p ^ ^ -. ^ 
 
 64 OBITUARY ADDRESSES. 
 
 Address of Mr. Dunlap, of Kentuchij. 
 
 Mr. Speaker: Edward D. Baker was an Englishman 
 born; yet as an adopted American citizen, a tribute to 
 his memory even by one far removed from the scenes of 
 his active hfe, will not be deemed obtrusive, for his was 
 a national character. His infancy was cradled on the 
 bosom of the ocean, his manhood careered in the storms 
 of war, his penetrating mind discerned his fatal fall, and 
 he now sleeps in a warrior's grave. Bold and fearless, 
 his eloquent voice was lately heard in the councils of the 
 nation, in withering denunciations of treason, and his last 
 vital action was a patriot's martyrdom. Conspicuous 
 in all his movements, he was the marked object of his 
 opponents, and the fatal field in mute silence enshrouds 
 his form. Poverty was his inheritance, civil and military 
 pre-eminence, his testamentary bequest. Reared by no 
 bountiful hand, his early days spent in a city life of un- 
 envied toil, he brooked the frowns of penury and want, 
 and on the sunset side of the Alleghanies, in the bound- 
 less prairies of the West, he sought a home of future 
 usefulness. Proud of his profession, he rivaled the 
 nation's Douglas. His ambition was of no ordinary 
 mould; stimulated by the surroundings of his adopted 
 home, just bursting the bands of primeval beauty, and 
 gradually emerging into national usefulness, his new-made 
 friends appreciated his energy of character, and tendered 
 him legislative preferment. 
 
 Civil honors awaited him, and with almost matchless 
 eloquence his advocacy of the Mexican war, gave him an 
 elevated position in this new theater, and won for him 
 the name of Orator. His patriotic devotion was not 
 
 m. • ■ 'k 
 
HON. EDWARD D. BAKER. 65 
 
 surpassed by the native-born citizen. Guided by that 
 love that masters the soul, in the hour of peril, he gave 
 up the emoluments and trappings of civil office, and 
 sought the tented field. Upon Cerro Gordo's heights, 
 he aided in planting the banner of the American Union, 
 which, in his fall, became his winding sheet. Upon the 
 restoration of peace, his restless and ambitious spirit 
 sought other chmes, and California, with her gilded 
 beauty, became the spot of the patriot's care, where 
 clustered for a time the joys of home, and the rich re- 
 ward for eminent services was a people's devotion. He 
 v.as generous, brave, and manly, winning favor by his 
 mildness of character, yet decisive action. In political 
 or legal conflicts he dealt his blows with artistic skill. 
 As a commander in the field or leader in party contests, 
 he stood pre-eminent for his firmness, bravery, and gal- 
 lantry. Possessing a mind l^old in conception, grand in 
 design, and powerful in execution, he was fitted for every 
 crisis that marked the eventful age in which his brilliant 
 career shone forth so conspicuously. Indomitable energy 
 and burning zeal for his country, were characteristics that 
 stamped his every action. With no model, he was the 
 architect of his own fortunes. His persuasive manner 
 captivated his hearers in debate, and his true nobleness 
 of character won for him a myriad of friends. Separated 
 from the social ties, which linked his temporary destiny, 
 with all that could stimulate a generous heart, he cast his 
 eye upon the EMPIRE CITY OF THE WESTERN 
 OCEAN, with recollections of sweet endearment, and 
 bid it farewell for the spot that last honored him with 
 civil promotion. Infant Oregon found in him a devotee 
 to her flist-developing resources, and a confiding con- 
 
m n 
 
 6G OBITUARY ADDRESSES. 
 
 stitucncy trusted the gifted stranger with her fortunes and 
 her tate. He was to speak for her in the national Capitol. 
 True as she was to that Union, which constituted the 
 elevated aim of his highest, his proudest aspirations, he 
 won for her an enviable position. A nation's peril led 
 him to the field; and, like the gallant Lyon, he sought 
 death rather than defeat. 
 
 That a deep sorrow pervades the heart of the Ameri- 
 can people, at the loss of a man so energetic, firm, and 
 true to her interests in this trying struggle for a nation's 
 integrity, none will gainsay; yet with that feeling there 
 is mingled an exultant pride, that he, the distinguished 
 dead, was one of us. He emphatically belonged to the 
 people. From their ranks he sprung; for their advance- 
 ment and prosperity he labored; for their approval he 
 toiled; for the perpetuity of their honor he died. How 
 commendable such a death ! to leave a name enshrined 
 in the heart of this great nation. He felt a firm convic- 
 tion that he would fall a martyr in stemming the culmi- 
 nation of this wide-spread treason; but nothing daunted, 
 with heart of fire and brow of steel, he unbosomed his 
 front to the torrent that overwhelmed his gallant form. 
 Naught but the frame of such a spirit can ever die. The 
 spirit will live, to animate all patriots. Ball's Bluff, in all 
 rt'corded time, will proclaim his martyrdom. "The din 
 of battle and clash of arms" awake not the sleeping dead. 
 Oregon raises the wail of woe, State after State joins in 
 the sad chorus, and the private circle wears a melancholy 
 cast. Edward D. Baker is gone, and, in his eloquent 
 and touching language at the grave of Broderick, let us 
 for him exclaim: "Good friend, true hero, hail! and 
 farewell." 
 
 p 
 
Address of Me. Richardson, of Illinois. 
 
 Mr. Speaker: I am sure the House will indulge me 
 while I add a few words in reference to the illustrious 
 dead. I first met Colonel Baker, sir, in 1832, upon the 
 northwestern frontier of the State of Illinois. We were 
 soldiers in the ranks in different commands. At the close 
 of that campaign we returned and lived in adjoining 
 counties. We met frequently at the bar. We were 
 members together of the House of Representatives of 
 that State in 1837. We served two years in the Senate 
 of that State together. During the war with Mexico 
 he commanded a regiment; I was a subordinate officer 
 of another regiment during the same period. We served 
 together during one Congress in this Hall. I have known 
 him well. It has been my fortune, in all the various re- 
 lations where we have met, to encounter him in debate. 
 We belonged to different and opposing political parties; 
 and at the bar, in both branches of the legislature, l^efore 
 popular assemblies, in this House, I never came from a 
 contest with him the victor. I have met but few men 
 in public life, sir, who were more brilliant as oratoi's 
 than Colonel Baker, and he added to it high scholastic 
 attainments. But, sir, it would be drawing an imperfect 
 sketch of his character if we only gave him these attri- 
 butes. While his mind "possessed the brilliancy of the 
 diamond, it had its solidity, too." 
 
 Before popular assemblies his brilliancy of display 
 attracted and commanded the admiration of his audience. 
 It was for the adversarv to discover that in these con- 
 
 -m 
 
m 9 
 
 G^ OBITUARY ADDRESSES. 
 
 Iroversies there was more than the flowers of rhetoric. 
 I have met but few men in pul)Kc hfe whom I regarded 
 as so dangerous an adversary in a pohtical contest as 
 Colonel Baker few wlio had deeper convictions than he 
 had. I might refer to numerous instances of the depth of 
 his convictions, but one will be sufficient. When, at the 
 grave of his friend, the late Senator fi-om California, Mr. 
 Brodcrick, to which the Representative from California 
 [Mr. Phelps] has referred, Colonel Baker denounced 
 the practice of dueling as inhuman and barbarous, he 
 uttered no new sentiment of his. In 1850, during a 
 memorable occasion here, a collision was about to occur 
 between Colonel Bissell, of Illinois, and Jeffersou Davis. 
 In a casual conversation which I had with Colonel Baker 
 and some others of our then colleagues, he denounced the 
 practice of dueling as imfamous, barbarous, and inhuman. 
 It struck us all with a good deal of astonishment, show- 
 ing that we had had but an imperfect knowledge of his 
 character. Brave, daring, gallant, as we knew him to he, 
 we thought he would interpose no objection to the fight. 
 We combatted his arguments as best we could ; but they 
 left on each of us a deep impression. But for that con- 
 versation, no adjustment of the difficulty would have been 
 made. Having returned to the Hall of the House of 
 Representatives, General Dawson, then a Senator from 
 the State of Georgia, came to my seat and expressed a 
 desire to speak with me in the rotunda. I went there 
 with him. He said, "We can settle this thing." I 
 agreed to try with him to settle it. But for the con- 
 versation which had taken place a few moments before 
 in which Colonel Baker had taken such a conspicuous 
 part, I should have rejected the proposition at once. I 
 
m s 
 
 HON. EDWARD D. BAKER. 69 
 
 will not relate the whole history fof that transaction, but 
 will only say that it was adjusted without dishonor to 
 Colonel Bissell. 
 
 Mr. Speaker, Colonel Baker has fulfilled the prophetic 
 words which he uttered on this floor in 1850. He said, 
 at the conclusion of one of his speeches, 
 
 "I have only to say that if the time shoukl come when disunion 
 rules the hour and discord is to reign supreme, I shall again be ready 
 to give the best blood in my veins to my country's cause. I shall 
 be prepared to meet all antagonists with lance in rest, to do battle in 
 every land in defense of the Constitution of the country which 1 have 
 sworn to support, to the last extremity, against disunionists and all 
 its enemies, whether of the South or North ; to meet them every- 
 where, at all times, with speech or hand, with word or blow, until 
 thought and being shall be mine no longer." 
 
 He has fulfilled the prophecy. 
 
 The people of Illinois felt as deep anguish in the 
 death of Colonel Baker as did the people on the distant 
 shores of the Pacific, or as any people in this nation. 
 He was bound to them by many ties. His mother re- 
 sides among them. His brother and sister are there. 
 His early manhood's struggles and triumphs were there. 
 He led her sons in the hour of battle to victory. They 
 honored him by conferring on him places in the legis- 
 lature and in Congress, and he reflected honor on them 
 by the brilliancy of intellect which he brought to the 
 discharge of his duties. 
 
 Death has been busy with that bright array of intellect 
 which shone so brightly in the State of lUinois in our 
 times. We have mourned at the graves of Harden, and 
 Ford, and Harris, and Bissell, and our cherished leader, 
 Douglas; and now we mourn at the grave of Baker. 
 The gems have dropped away from that circle. Some 
 
LQ; 
 
 of its brightest stars have been stricken out and obscured. 
 A few years must sweep away from existence those who 
 have been the rivals and compeers of the illustrious dead; 
 and, sir, if the survivors can bring a nation sorrowing 
 around their graves as have done those who have gone 
 before them to the tomb, we shall have cause to rejoice 
 in them. 
 
 I can say, from my knoMdedge of Colonel Baker, that 
 he was the manly and courteous opponent, the unselfish 
 friend, the statesman without reproach, the brilliant 
 orator, the gallant soldier. In obedience to his orders, 
 in compliance with his duties, at the head of his com- 
 mand, standing beneath the flag, in support of the Con- 
 stitution of the country, he has fallen, and gone to his 
 rest forever. He has faithfully discharged his duties to 
 his country and to mankind. 
 
 Address of Me. Saegent, of California. 
 
 Mr. Speakee: With unaflTected sadness I rise to add 
 a few words of tribute to the memory of my deceased 
 friend, although little remains to be said by way of 
 biography, or even of eulogy. I speak with intimate 
 knowledge of the man from long association socially 
 and politically — from a sympathy with his principles and 
 active cooperation with him in many of his undertakings. 
 Tame and dull seem any words of eulogy applied to that 
 splendid intellect, that valorous heart, unless they could 
 
■m 
 
 HON. EDWAliD D. BAKEK. 71 
 
 be conceived in his own brain of fire, and uttered by his 
 affluent tongue. But 
 
 "His signal deeds and prowess high 
 Demand no pompons enlogy — 
 
 Ye saw his deeds! 
 Why should their praise in verse he snng? 
 The name that dwells on every tongue 
 
 No minstrel needs!" 
 
 His faults, which were few, were those of the generous 
 and social; his virtues were many and heroic. Deeply 
 ingrained in his nature was a love of freedom; a rever- 
 ence for free institutions, free labor, free men; a pleasure 
 in the elevation of the masses that no demaii:oorue can 
 appreciate. Hence, his noblest efforts of oratory and 
 richest gems of thought are found in those orations 
 where he appealed directly to his people to be true to 
 the principles of American liberty, and reminded them 
 of the privileges of freemen. Hear hhii, after the goal 
 of his ambition was w^on, the highest position his birth 
 enabled him to fill, as he gives the key-note of his whole 
 political life. He said, at San Francisco, when on his 
 way to take his seat in the United States Senate, 
 
 "As for me, I dare not, will not, be false to freedom. Where the 
 feet of my youth were planted, there, by freedom, my feet shall ever 
 stand. I will walk beneath her banner; I will glory in her strength. 
 1 have watched her in history struck down on a hundred chosen fields 
 of battle. I have seen her friends fly from her ; her foes gather 
 around her. I have seen her bound to the stake ; I have seen them 
 give her ashes to the winds. But when they turned to exult, I have 
 seen her again meet them face to face, resplendent, in complete steel, 
 brandishing in her strong right hand a>flaming sword, red with insuf- 
 ferable light. I take courage. The people gather around her. The 
 genius of America will at last lead her sons to freedom." 
 
■m- 
 
 Seizing upon the Republican party, in 1856, as the ex- 
 ponent of these his cherished convictions, in advance of 
 nearly all other leaders, he traversed our hills and valleys 
 and talked to the miners and farmers of the dignity of 
 that free labor by which they had created a State, and 
 magically illustrated the great issues of that contest. 
 His prophetic mind, even at that early period, looked 
 forward to the troubles with which we now contend. 
 He appreciated the baleful effects that would be pro- 
 duced by the advancing, aggressive slave power of this 
 nation, even to the destruction of the Union and Consti- 
 tution; for he was learned in the hearts of men, and his 
 penetrating mind had not been deceived l)y the specious 
 pretenses of the men who even then cloaked treason 
 with a fair exterior. Therefore he sought to prepare 
 the minds of the people for effectual resistance to its 
 usurpations. He was in advance of the age in that 
 remote State; but such labors could not fail of effect. 
 Those who have heard in the other Chamber his nol)lc 
 defense of the integrity of this Union against its assail- 
 ants, who have seen his logical sword piercing to the 
 dividing of the joints and marrow of the controversy, 
 have an idea of the keenness of his intellect and the 
 felicity of his language. But his electric power over the 
 masses was yet superior to any force he wielded in such 
 debates. He appealed to their better natures in behalf 
 of their best interests, and he aroused them to tumultuous 
 enthusiasm, or subdued them to tears, at his will. I do 
 but strict justice to his memory when I say that Califor- 
 nia is largely indebted to Edward D. Baker that she 
 is not to-day within the grasp of secessionists, and that 
 she is represented no longer in this Hall by politicians of 
 
 -m 
 
■m 
 
 HON. ED WARD D. BAKER. 73 
 
 the Calhoun school, l^iit by men charged to declare her 
 unalterable fidelity to the Union. 
 
 Colonel Baker was eminently a leader of public senti- 
 ment. With his gallant and daring nature he would 
 never follow, would not timorously feel after puldic opin- 
 ion. He Vv'as always in the van. Therefore, he never 
 asked if a measure was popular as a condition of his 
 support; he only cared if it w^as right. No matter how 
 great might be the public opposition to any measure he 
 deemed just and beneficial, he was not deterred from its 
 support, but only labored harder to secure its success. 
 Relying upon his great powers of intellect, the influence 
 his unrivaled oratory enabled him to exert over his fel- 
 lows, he dashed against popular opposition, and frequently 
 turned it back where other men would have been trampled 
 under foot. He had a faculty of identifying himself with 
 his audiences, expressing their thoughts, leading their 
 sympathies, speaking from their level with mingled sim- 
 plicity and dignity, that dissolved prejudice and captivated 
 their hearts. Possessed of enormous power for good or 
 evil, the admiration that follows his memory is mingled 
 with love and gratitude that he devoted his rare gifts to 
 the good of humanity and to the noblest patriotism. 
 
 His original and fearless mind could be but little 
 controlled by party ties. He looked through party to 
 principles. His spirit was eminently cathohc. He 
 gladly welcomed co-laborers, coming from whatever 
 source, and gave his services to elevate his nominal op- 
 ponents. Calling himself a Republican, and sincerely 
 such in principle, he was anxious to unite all who agreed 
 in essentials. He set the example, in his political action 
 and speeches, of discarding prejudices and minor distinc- 
 
 m.- 
 
 -IB) 
 
m- 
 
 74 
 
 OBITUARY ADDRESSES. 
 
 tions from that true policy wliicli best serves and advances 
 vital interests. Hence he disregarded party names, to 
 fight by the side of his friend Broderick, when that 
 noble Senator returned to California, after his first ses- 
 sion, with the thunders of the Administration leveled at 
 his head, for his opposition to its corruptions and to the 
 extension of slavery. And when Mr. Broderick fell, a 
 martyr to his devotion to human liberty. Colonel Bakers 
 oration over his body, in the hearing of weeping thon- 
 sauds, in the public square in San Francisco, had the 
 intensity of grief of that of Marc Antony over the body 
 of Caesar: 
 
 "My heart is in the coffin there, with Ccesar, 
 And I must paiise till it come back to me." 
 
 And there is a passage in that noble oration almost 
 foreign to the gentle nature of the late Senator, as he 
 spoke of the patient grief of the people, who hung upon 
 his words, over their inestimable loss, that recalls the 
 bitterness of those other w^ords of the Roman orator — 
 
 "But were I Brutus, 
 And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony 
 Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue 
 In every wound of Caesar, that should move 
 The stones of Rome to rise in mutiny!" 
 
 Was not the great champion of liberty slain? The 
 labor of years destroyed in an hour? The first victory 
 of freedom turned to bloody disaster? What wonder 
 that, mingled with his eloquent sorrow, were thoughts 
 of that vengeance that strikes hke the thunderbolts of 
 fate. Heart-broken he turned from the scene, and his 
 eloquent voice was heard no more in our State until the 
 
m- ^ 
 
 HON. EDWARD D. BAKER. 75 
 
 blood of Broderick had been best avenged by the triumph 
 of the principles for which he was slain. 
 
 Honored by a seat in the national Senate by our sister 
 State of the Pacific, a position which we of California 
 w^ould gladly have conferred upon him if we had had the 
 power, and which he valued as the most dignified and 
 honorable that could be bestowed, with true patriotism 
 and noble gallantry he laid his position, his fortune, and 
 his life upon the altar of his adopted country, and fell, 
 as a patriot warrior should, contending against its foes. 
 It is true, that he fell in an objectless fight; that no 
 commensurate result followed the great sacrifice; but not 
 the less noble the patriotism that animated him. Where 
 shall we look in the annals of this or any war for a more 
 heroic display of sublime courage than was exhibited on 
 the disastrous day that witnessed his death, as he moved 
 from rank to rank of his feeble command, encouraging 
 his comrades by cheerful words, calmly directing their 
 efibrts, sharing their toil and utmost danger, his majestic 
 form the mark of every hostile bullet, yet disdaining 
 precaution, the gallant leader of a forlorn hope, with 
 death alike in front and rear, entrapped into a position 
 where victory and retreat were alike impossible, and 
 surrender worse than death ? With the immediate cause 
 of his sacrifice, with that fatal and ill-advised movement 
 at Ball's Bluif, I do not intend to deal. I doubt not the 
 disasters of that day have impressed their lesson where 
 it was needed, and there I am content at present to leave 
 them. Pity it is, that that lesson has cost us so dear. 
 
 With the many elements of the sublime in his nature, 
 he was eminently kind and friendly. His disposition was 
 social, his heart open and cheerful as the day. He was 
 
— . m 
 
 7G OBITUARY ADDRESSES. 
 
 approachable to the huml}lest, sincere in his friendships, 
 mindful of favors, hberal in retnrn. No enemy could 
 provoke him to hatred, no ally complain of treachery. 
 He was indebted as much to the sincerity of his nature, 
 which was manifest in every word and act, as to his 
 wonderful powers of oratory, for the ascendency he 
 secured wherever he sought it. Prejudice melted in the 
 sunlight of his smile. As imagination followed his bold 
 flights through poetic realms, or reason labored to master 
 his rapid deductions, his audiences would sway with 
 admiration; and then, changing to deepest pathos — a 
 pathos beyond affectation — that could spring only from 
 a heart in sympathy with all that is good and gentle and 
 true, he would move his listeners to tenderness and trust, 
 opening his heart of hearts to their gaze, and captivating 
 their aflfections by a glance into the riches of a nature so 
 sympathetic that he bound them to his cause by very love 
 of its advocate. 
 
 Mr. Speaker, we of Cahfornia have not to-day the 
 privilege of remembering the dead Senator as honored 
 by us with his seat in the highest council of the nation. 
 We have not the grateful recollection that the honor 
 which he shed upon the Pacific States by his brief but 
 splencUd career in the Senate, is the peculiar treasure of 
 our State. But California will ever claim and cherish 
 the memory of Edward D. Baker as one of her brightest 
 jewels. Our State was the object of his earnest love — 
 the theater of many of his highest achievements. He 
 was familiar with our skies and mountains, our streams 
 and forests, our cities and homes. He loved our people, 
 and they loved him with fervent idolatry. Their hearts 
 bled in ansfuish when the liCThtnin«^ flashed the dismal 
 
 m- 
 
HON. EDWARD D. BAKER. 77 
 
 intelligence of his untimely fate; and even now his ashes 
 are borne over the waves to rest in the soil he loved, by 
 the side of that other slain Senator, in the shadow of the 
 Lone Mountain. In his own magnificent phrase, "As in 
 life, no other voice among us so rang its trumpet blast 
 upon the ear of freemen, so in death its echoes will re- 
 verberate amidst our mountains and our valleys until truth 
 and valor cease to appeal to the human heart." I but in- 
 adequately speak the emotions of the people of my State, 
 as I seek in feeble words to do honor to his memory. I 
 would this triljute were worthier, that I could hans: ^ 
 garland upon his tomb worthy of his illustrious shade. 
 
 But the future will be just to his fame. When history 
 makes record of the heroic deeds done in this holy war, 
 the name of Edward D. Baker will inspire to subiimest 
 praise, and his memory be preserved from age to age like 
 the sacred fire upon Vesta's altar. For myself I desire 
 no higher motive for my public acts than inspired his 
 glorious patriotism, his undying love of freedom. And, 
 sir, I trust that the declaration of his truthful lips, made 
 a little over one year ago, and which I shall quote — a 
 declaration maile in bitter mortification, in contemplation 
 of the spectacle we presented to the civilized world, may 
 have lost its truth and meaning by means of the national 
 regeneration this war is producing : 
 
 "Here, [said lie] in a laud of wi-ittcu constitutional liberty, it is 
 reserved for us to teach the world that under the American stars and 
 stripes, slavery marches in solemn procession ; that under the Ameri- 
 can flag, slavery is protected to the utmost verge of acquired territory; 
 that under the American banner, the name of freedom is to be faintly 
 heard, the songs of freedom faintly sung ; that while Garibaldi, 
 Victor Emanuel, every great and good man in the world, strives, 
 struggles, fights, prays, suffers, and dies, sometimes on the scaffold, 
 
^ ;a] 
 
 78 OBITUARY ADDRESSES. 
 
 sometimes in the {limgeon, often on the field of battle, rendered im- 
 mortal by bis blood and liis valor ; tliat wliile this triumpbal proces- 
 sion marches on through the arches of freedom, Ave, in this land of 
 all the world, shrink back trembling when fi-eedom is but mentioned." 
 
 Sir, the spell is broken. We dare to be free. The 
 traditions of our race sadly teach that freedom is only 
 bought with blood ; and noble blood has been shed to 
 emancipate us from the domination of that despotism 
 which has fettered liberty and corrupted conscience. It 
 seems a fearful price to pay when our Lyons and Bakers, 
 our Winthrops and Ellsworths, are cut down in the glory 
 of useful manhood. • But the nation is being educated in 
 heroism, and we are giving to the future holy names, and 
 memories, and examples — inestimable gifts that will l)e 
 cherished by our children's children as their richest 
 inheritance. 
 
 Address of Mr. Kelley, of Pennsylvania. 
 
 Mr. Speaker: My personal acquaintance with Senator 
 Baker was of recent date. It commenced about the 
 time of the inauguration of President Lincoln. But 
 under the influence of his graceful and genial manners 
 and confiding nature, it soon ripened into mutual friend- 
 ship, attested, on his part, by acts gratefully received and 
 now sacredly remembered by a number of my young 
 constituents, who desired to prove their patriotism by 
 following him when he should lead a column 'mid the 
 "sheeted fire and flame" of some second Cerro Gordo. 
 
 m- ^ — — ^y 
 
fB) ^ 
 
 HON. EDWARD D. BAKER. 79 
 
 He was a fascinating companion; and I knew not 
 which most to admire, the heartiness, ease, and grace of 
 his social intercourse, or his power as a thinker, orator, 
 and leader of men. Who that has seen his eye flash as 
 his voice swaj'ed the Senate or the assembled multitude 
 of eager listeners, shall forget its firet Or who, that has 
 heard him quietly relate some mirth-moving incident, 
 will forget the genial light with which it illuminated his 
 sweet smile I Alas ! that it should have closed in death 
 while the blood of vigorous manhood poured from his 
 many wounds. 
 
 But, Mr. Speaker, sorrow as we may with those whom 
 he so tenderly loved; grieve as we may for our country, 
 to whose welfare and glory his life was so unsparingly 
 devoted, let us not mourn his death, for in it a well- spent 
 life was fitly rounded. The enduring monuments of a 
 nation are the stories of its men, which, if these were 
 truly great, illuminate the future while they exemplify 
 the past; and when Edward Dickinson Baker died, 
 another name was indelibly graven on the imperishable 
 rolls of American orators, statesmen, and soldiers. 
 
 He was not a native of the city which I have the honor, 
 in part, to represent The people of Philadelphia knew 
 that he was born in England; that he came to manhood 
 ill Illinois, and, as a colonel from that State, bore the 
 unsullied flag of our country from Vera Cruz to the city 
 of Mexico; that it was as a citizen of distant California 
 he had thrilled the heart of a great and wide-s])read 
 people by the utterance of his indignant sorrow over the 
 body of the murdered Broderick; and that it was as 
 Senator from more distant Oregon he had hurled from 
 the "Tarpeian rock" the Cain-like son of Kentucky, 
 
 't i 
 
who, impelled by ambition lawless as that of Lucifer, 
 prated of the sanctity of the Constitution, that, by the 
 arts of Judas, he might betray a confiding people; yet 
 they loved him as one of themselves. 
 
 His early youth was passed in Philadelphia. Many 
 of his relatives still reside there; and he always loved 
 the city in which his father — yet kindly remembered Ijy 
 many — essayed to maintain his family by the labors of a 
 teacher, and in which he first felt the quenchless flame of 
 honorable ambition; and, after having publicly dedicated 
 himself "to fight for country, home, law, Government, 
 Constitution, right, freedom, and humanity," he came 
 thither to enlist a regiment, to follow him to victory or 
 the grave, in so grand a cause. He came to raise one 
 thousand men. The announcement of his name and 
 purpose was magical as the summons of Roderick Dhu. 
 More offered than could ])e accepted. 
 
 "From the gray sire, wliose trembling hand 
 Could hardly buckle on his brand, 
 To the raw boy, whose shaft and bow 
 Were yet scarce terror to the croAV ; 
 Till at the rendezvous they stood 
 By hundreds, prompt for blows and blood." 
 
 And when his so-called California regiment left its 
 place of rendezvous, it embraced three battalions and 
 mustered over fourteen hundred of the flower and pride 
 of Philadelphia. The day on which they passed through 
 our city to encamp in a neighboring park was a gala day. 
 I saw them as they moved along one of our principal 
 thoroughfares; the music to which they marched was 
 the plaudits of dear kindred, friends, and neighbors. It 
 was a goodly sight to look upon, lieside the acute 
 
 ig m 
 
^ p 
 
 HON. EDWARD D. BAKER. 81 
 
 lawyer, experienced legislator, glowing orator, and tried 
 soldier, Colonel Baker — whose name the fondest and 
 proudest hopes of the city garlanded — rode the brave 
 and accomplished young Quaker, Wistar, upon whom, 
 with the afiection of a father, he relied with such well- 
 placed confidence as his "good right arm." And in the 
 column that followed was as grand an embodiment of 
 character, culture, courage, and loyalty as ever regimental 
 officer commanded. No holiday or hireling soldiers were 
 they; but men with tender ties, bright prospects, and 
 noble aspirations — men who knew what peace and free- 
 dom are, and how worthless life would be without them. 
 How dauntless was their courage, how perfect their 
 devotion to chief and cause, Massachusetts and New 
 York will tell when they write the story of their sons 
 whose conduct on that ill-chosen field invests with a 
 radiant halo the doubts and disasters of Ball's Bluff. 
 
 When his regiment had been in the field a short time, 
 the Government offered Colonel Baker a general's com- 
 mission, which he refused to receive ; but while he grace- 
 fully declined the rank and pay, he accepted the labors 
 and responsibilities of the station. About that time the 
 business of recruiting seemed to flag, and with charac- 
 teristic energy he undertook the labor of enlisting the 
 additional regiments required to complete his brigade. 
 Again he came to Philadelphia. Colonels Baxter, Owens, 
 and Moorhead having served three months, and been 
 honorably mustered out of service, had each gathered 
 about him the nucleus of a regiment for the war. He 
 saw and conferred with them. Moorhead had known 
 him, as youth knows a gallant leader, "when pursuing 
 honor on the distant fields of Mexico." Baxter, one of 
 
 i; u 
 
_ -dj 
 
 82 OBITUARY ADDRESSES. 
 
 their number, was appealing to our firemen to encounter 
 on a new field the toil and danger with which their 
 unrequited labors make them so familiar; and in Owen 
 he found an intelligent and educated representative of 
 the courage and enthusiasm of the Irish -American 
 people. He authorized them to announce their regi- 
 ments as part of his brigade, and thus again disclosed 
 the magical power of his name; for however tardily 
 recruiting had gone on before, men now rallied around 
 the standard of these officers more rapidly than the 
 Government could arm and equip them; and in a few 
 days an exultant people cheered the departure of the 
 last of them for the embattled field. 
 
 The qualities which gave Colonel Baker so controlling 
 an influence among men seem to me to have been his 
 frankness, his fidelity, and that great-hearted humanity 
 which interested him in whatever concerned the rights, 
 comfort, or welfare of those about him. In him my 
 young townsmen declare they found not only the soldier's 
 first need — discipline and guidance — but also a patient 
 listener, wise counselor, and sympathetic friend. 
 
 His career illustrates the beneficence of our institu- 
 tions. Neither, the poverty of his childhood, nor the 
 fact of his foreign birth, depressed him. And as his 
 restless energy bore him westward from the Atlantic 
 even to the Pacific coast, he found under the Constitu- 
 tion of our country legitimate scope for all his activities. 
 It is not generally known that with his varied powers he 
 also possessed a fine poetic gift. It was, however, well 
 known to his intimate friends; and I have sometimes 
 thouorht that, thoudi under other Governments or in 
 other times he might not have been known as an orator. 
 
 -m 
 
statesman, or soldier, he would still have achieved lasting 
 fame. The man who could close the rhythmical expression 
 of an exquisite fancy with the exclamation — 
 
 "It were vain to ask as tliou rollest afar, 
 Of banner or mariner, ship or star; 
 It were vain to seek in tliy stormy face 
 Some tale of the sorrowful past to trace. 
 Thou art swelling high, thou art flashing free, 
 How vain are the questions we ask of thee! 
 
 "I too am a wave on a stormy sea; 
 I too am a wanderer, driven like thee; 
 I too am seeking a distant land 
 To be lost and gone ere I reach the strand; 
 For the land I seek is a waveless shore, 
 And they who once reach it shall wander no more." 
 
 The man, I say, who, with Colonel Baker's love of 
 right and large human sympathy, could give such ex- 
 pression to his fancy, might not have attained political 
 power under institutions affording less scope to his 
 activity, Init would probably have shone in literature, 
 and enrolled his name with those of Korner, Schiller, 
 and Burns. 
 
 Mr. Speaker, our sympathy will not reanimate the 
 moldering remains of our departed friend; but we can 
 see to it that the people realize the hope in which he 
 rejoiced : " That the l)anner of our country may advance, 
 and wheresoever that banner waves, there glory may 
 pursue and freedom be established." 
 
Address of Mr. Kiddle, of Ohio. 
 
 Mr. Speaker: The nation mourns her dead, not as in 
 the peace-time, when one of her kiiiglj ones went from 
 a rounded and perfect career, leaving our sky brightened 
 with his passage, and ghttering with the new stars his 
 hand had set in it. Then indeed she mourned, but it 
 was with a proud and satisfied sorrow, as she inurned 
 his ashes in her bosom and transferred his glory to 
 her diadem, brighter for the tears with which she em- 
 balmed it. Now, we feel as if a strong and beautiful 
 column had been shattered in our midst ere it was finished, 
 and leaving a temple tottering for its support. It is as 
 if we had suddenly stumbled upon the corpse of the 
 dead Senator, not composed in the dignity of calm death, 
 with his robes about him, but mangled upon a rent field, 
 with the cloud of battle on his brow, and its flash still 
 flickering in his eye; with his battle blade shivered in 
 his hand, and the nation's ensign torn from its staff, 
 scorched and crimsoned and trampled into the red earth 
 beneath him. This is the picture that starts fresli and 
 ghastly before us, and we contemplate it with pallid sur- 
 prise, with the gush of first grief, and with a fierce indig- 
 nation, for we know the hand that robbed us of this rea^al 
 form and royal soul. And as we contemplate it, other 
 forms marred by the hand of this war come in mourning 
 procession and range themselves about this grand figure. 
 
 There is the shadowed face of Ellsworth, whose winged 
 spirit bore him a step beyond frigid duty to a murderer ; 
 yet that spot is a shrine, and the dark edifice that holds 
 it is chipped away for memorials and amulets and talis- 
 mans. We now know the meaning of that nameless 
 
 ia 
 
m -— 
 
 HON. EDWARD D. BAKER. 85 
 
 shadow that deepened his boyish beauty. And Win- 
 throp, radiant in young genius, with his hilt wreathed 
 with the offerings of poesy and romance, rushing as 
 bhthely to battle and to death as a young bridegroom to 
 the couch of expectant love. 
 
 And Lyon, from the far-off Missouri, who hurled his 
 four or five regiments into the battle-embrace of twenty 
 thousand enemies, and grasped victory out of the iron 
 fangs of fate, and relinquished it only to the hand of 
 death. 
 
 They throng about us, pale and shadowy, from scores 
 of fields of g'Ory and disaster. 
 
 Hundreds of our broad-browed, open-eyed youths — 
 without a taint in their blood or a stain on their souls 
 pure as the mothers who bore them, and beautiful as the 
 sisters in their homes — have been lost in fierce conflict, 
 where individuahty is dropped, melted out in the fiery 
 mass of molten valor that roars and swells and breaks in 
 red waves ; when wounds do not smart, and death does 
 not sting. Many — oh ! how many — in rude, dilapidated 
 hospitals and chilly tents, untended and uncared for, 
 have passed away, solaced only by fever-dreams of far-off 
 homes, bringing the images of cool hands and loved forms 
 they shall meet never, save in the "silent land." 
 
 These were not enough! A higher sacrifice; the 
 highest the land could offer — he whom the Constitution, 
 written by our fathers, made the peer of the President ; 
 and whom the constitution, written by the finger of God, 
 made the peer of the proudest, living or dead — was de- 
 manded. And there, in that narrow, fire-girt field, at the 
 close of that shortened autumn day, under that gray, piti- 
 less sky, amid defeat, disaster, and death, that sacrifice 
 
 ■m 
 
was made. It was perfect. The sky circled no nobler 
 victim. That man-form was swayed by the brain of a 
 statesman, and garnered the wisdom of a sage. It was 
 warmed by the heart of a hero, and held the arm of a 
 warrior. In it burned the imagination of a poet, and its 
 utterances were with the tongue of an orator ; and over 
 aU reigned a soul angelic in its elevation. 
 
 The nation mourns her dead; and when, in the anguish 
 of this great loss, we contemplate the measureless 
 calamity of which it is a part, and see the springs and 
 causes and the hands that worked this dire woe, demands 
 for an almost religious vengeance struggle for place and 
 expression in our grief We feel as if we should summon 
 hither our young legions, and bidding them dip their 
 weapons in this sacred blood, we should hurl them on 
 the guilty land, to drive the plowshare of utter destruc- 
 tion through a soil that reeks with the feculence and 
 slaver of all crime. That we should here invoke that 
 the red-visaged angel of retributive wrath be loosened 
 and sent to hover on the pinions of fright and terror 
 over that doomed clime, and distil images of dire horror 
 among the ghastly, shivering, guilty wretches below. 
 Pardon me if such emotions should find no utterance 
 here where everything should be softened and elevated 
 to the tender grand sorrow of a great nation in the 
 presence of a great grief 
 
 Mr. Speaker, what fruition is to spring from all this 
 wide, wild waste and desolation? AVhat great fitting 
 conclusion is to leap or grow from this crushing of the 
 caskets of so many priceless lives t Are all these sacri- 
 fices to be in vain ? or may we gather from them inspira- 
 tion and courage and strength and stature, to confront and 
 
 U- 
 
grapple witli the event that so overshadows and dwarfs 
 ns all? or shall they, furnishing the only light on the 
 darkest page of American history, be transmitted for 
 the benefit of a better generation, to whom that page 
 shall tell the story of our visitation, and our opportunity, 
 of the means before us and our weakly turning from 
 them? That instead of our springing into the propor- 
 tions of giants, and doing giants' work, we dwindled and 
 driveled and shriveled and shrunk, and were buried 
 under a burden that we could not carry. 
 
 This crowning loss shall be all a loss, if, like blinded 
 men in darkened rooms, we waste our strength and energy 
 in buffeting shadows and phantoms and shams that mock 
 us as we smite. Not in vain, if, with the one great object 
 we go confidently forth into the field of God's providence, 
 and in the clear, white light, read the inscription em- 
 blazoned on the front of this huge treason, and apprehend 
 the lesson it teaches. There, too, we shall find an ample 
 means and a golden opportunity, like severe-browed yet 
 staying angels, awaiting our footsteps. 
 
 A nation mourns her dead, and questions while she 
 mourns. 
 
 Mr. Speaker, it was not needed that I should add a 
 single leaf to the rich and varied garlands scattered with 
 the profuse hand of national and individual grief upon 
 the resting-place of the dead Senator. I had no ambition 
 to bring a wrought wreath ; I only wished to lay upon or 
 near it one little broken spray. 
 
 The question was taken, and the resolutions were 
 adopted. 
 
 g 50) 
 
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 -BIVlr'07 
 
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