head, if you stay here, in ruins?  Are we to stop and talk about an uprising sentiment in the North against the war?  Are we to predict evil, and retire from what we predict?  Is it not the manly part to go on as we have begun, to raise money, and levy armies, to organize them, to prepare to advance; when we do advance, to regulate that advance by all the laws and regulations that civilization and humanity will allow in time of battle?  Can we do anything more?  To talk to us about stopping, is idle; we will never stop.  Will the Senator yield to rebellion?  Will he shrink from armed insurrection?  Will his State justify it?  Will its better public opinion allow it?  Shall we send a flag of truce?  What would he have?  Or would he conduct this war so feebly, that the whole world would smile at us in derision?  What would he have?  These speeches of his, sown broadcast over the land, what clear distinct meaning have they?  Are they not intended for disorganization in our very midst?  Are they not intended to dull our weapons?  Are they not intended to destroy our zeal?  Are they not intended to animate our enemies?  Sir, are they not words of brilliant, polished treason, even in the very Capitol of the Confederacy? (Manifestations of applause in the galleries.)

The Presiding Officer (Mr. Anthony in the chair).  Order!

Mr. Baker.  What would have been thought if, in another Capitol, in another Republic, in a yet more martial age, a senator as grave, not more eloquent or dignified than the Senator from Kentucky, yet with the Roman purple flowing over his shoulders, had risen in his place, surrounded by all the illustrations of Roman glory, and declared that advancing Hannibal was just, and that Carthage ought to be dealt with in terms of peace?  What would have been thought if, after the battle of Canne, a senator there had risen in his place and denounced every levy of the Roman people, every expenditure of its treasure, and every appeal to the old recollections and the old glories?  Sir, a Senator, himself learned far more than myself in such lore (Mr. Fessenden), tells me, in a voice that I am glad is audible, that he would have been hurled from the Tarpeian rock.  It is a grand commentary upon the American Constitution that we permit these words to be uttered.  I ask the Senator to recollect, too, what, save to send aid and comfort to the enemy, do these predictions of his amount to?  Every word thus uttered falls as a note of inspiration upon every confederate ear.  Every sound thus uttered is a word (and falling from his lips, a mighty word) of kindling and triumph to a foe that determines to advance.  For me, I have no such word as a Senator to utter.  For me, amid temporary defeat, disaster, disgrace, it seems that my duty calls me to utter another word, and that word is, bold, sudden, forward, determined war, according to the laws of war, by armies, by military commanders clothed with full power, advancing with all the past glories of the Republic urging them to conquest.