The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1883-04-28
A SINCERE AND TRUE MAN.
The Stormy Career of the Late Gen.
eral Joseph Lane.
The marion of the Mexican War"-His
Love of Peace and Letters-A Poets
Tribute to His Life.

do not care. This unimportant fact can be
found in almost any book of biographies, how
ever. In truth, the place of mans birth or
death, the date of these events, are of tho least
consequence. The world is full, the histories
are so filed with ilustrous names, that one who
attempts to remember the dates of their birth,
death and 80 on, is In danger of becoming a
mere catalogue. doubt, indeed, If it is import
ant to remember mans name except in so far
a 1t stands out as an expression signifying some
great example of virtue or of valor. These ex-
amples by the wayside of life we walk on,
lifting up like cross an altar in dark night
with lamp burning-these are what serve us,
light us, do us good. We need the light. We
do not really need to know even the name of
the saint, much less the date of his birth or
death
Lane first came to the surface in Congress,
from Indiana. He next volunteered as a private
soldier In the most unnecessary war with
nefghbor republic. We soon hear OF him as a
general. He is named 1.-THE Marion of the Mexi-
eau War" in the dispatches of the commander
OF the American armies OF course this ap-
pellation was a bit of affectation, if not down.
right falsehood on the part of those seeking to
build PEDESTAL OF glory for themselves on the
inglorious battle-ields of Mexico. 1 only men,
ton the circumstances as indicating that this
man from the Wabash wilds probably did his
duty.
would prefer. however, to omit all this
bloody business OF unhappy Mexico from his
me, IL Is some apology FOR the part he took in
the conquest to say that he was then young,
unread and had not at all attained to that larger
growth and development that widened, refined
and made beautiful his life when 1 knew and
loved him in his maturity. Aye, small glory
Indeed for any man who took part in the murder
OF those gallant Mexicans who fell defending
their capital. Smaller glory, even shame and
ODIPlOn, Tor those who instituted this brutal
war OF Invasion. Let our historians make its
page as brief as possible, that our children may
forget It,
Soon after returning from this war General
Lane was sent out to us in the Territory of Ore
ranch in the Umpqua valley,in the central part
OF what is now tine State of Oregon, built cabin
ana with his own hands plowed and planted and
reaped Ills new fields like any other farmer and
settler in the wild and remote West, Here it was,
L should say, his soul was born and began to
grow. In this vast solitude, this isolation and
solemnlty OF his cabin home, with wife and chill
dren only for weeks and months Mt a time, going
TO the liGtle village called the capital only once
about every two years, this germ of greatness,
the soul that was in him, began to grow and
glow to be beautiful. Aud it grew from this date
on steadily and upward. AS a growing flower to
the date of his death. more than quarter of
century later, near this same isolated spot. In
the great Indian war chat swept the land from
northern California to British America this man,
leave his little home and lead us in BATTLE
A WOUNDED WARRIOR.
1t was a desperate time. Even my Quaker,
peace-oving fa6her, who had never fired a gun
in his life, believe, was enrolled as a soldier
and shouldered, not a gun but an ox-whip, and
drove away for the war. I, a mere lad, lay
wounded under the trees when an express rode
by and gave the glad news that General Lane
was coming at the head of all Oregon in arms. 1
never saw such enthusiasm. He was loved,
adored, deifed Battle Rock. the most magni-
cent natural fortress ever seen-a natural castle
was another lava beds But it carried by
storm, and tho plucky Oregonians doated
the stars and stripes on the summit of this won
derful battement, and General Lane went back
to his pillow. But the mature ana entirely
thoughtful man had ever more time to read,
fleet. and philosOphize now than before. For,
besides other wounds his right arm had been
badly shot, and for a long time he could neither
swing his nor follow the pillow.
When Oregonibecame State, Lane, as matter
of course, was sent back to the Federal capital
as Senator, and right here IL seems to me, began
that misunderstanding that followed him to the
end and induced the writing OF this sketch.
Lane found, after long years of absence, the
Southern element dominant as before. he found
it more than dominant; he found 1t domineering,
tnsolent. But he kept with the South, not for
policy, but for peace.
Southern senators, Southern ladies' fiattered,
petted and praised this man from the far Oregon,
called him ''the Marion of the Mexican war;"
than which nothing could now be more distaste-
full, for his soul had grown to despise all that,
peace-loving Oregon farmer ut the head OF af-
fairs
1t is TO be frankly admitted. he gradually, and
finally gracefully, yielded to this policy. And
at last when he named the possible
Democratic nominee for President 1 regret to
confess that he laid aside his grandeur like gar
ment and went down into the arena gladiator.
Bur his was no brutal fight or unfair one. 1
invite attention to this fact, and if any man in
this republic can put his finger on an unclean
spot of this man'a senatorial robes from the day
he put them on till his defeat as the regular
Democratic nominee for Vice-president and his
final retirement let it be done now.
How it sets one to thinking. wondering at the
freak of fate to sweep the mind back over those
stormy days and sec Ben Butler, even then the
chIefest, the stOrmest, the ugliest and most con-
tentlous figure, indeed. in all Charleston.
It wonld open the fo0d-gates of contention too
widely to more than refer to Lanes position
the great issues of his time. l can only insist
that it was for peace peace. all the time peace,
and yet all the time the belligerent and regret
TO say even offensive South kept posing him for
hero of war; this man, who all the time offered
peace and love and amity for all, who all the
time wanted to get back TO his pillow and his
pine woods of Oregon. My letters from
him at this time breathe but this one
thought. He wanted to get back, get out of it
ALL and sit under the oaks and read Plutarch
and Marcus Aurelius This was the ambition,
the desire of General Joseph Lane at the time
he was a candidate for Vice-praSidsnt of the
United States, being deifed by one party, and
disemboweled by the other.
am compelled to speak OF myself somewhat
now to show my connection with this great and
good man, and how came to know him we'll
better than any other man now living, perhaps.
may almost say literally this man taught me
TO read. He certainly taught me 10 read the
books above named, along with perhaps u dozen
well-thumbed old masters, which he knew so
well that If misread single word as we lay
under the Oaks-I reading, he lying on his back
looking up at the birds-he would correct me.
know there is vague impression that General
Lane was an ignorant man. Well, am not
learned enough to be good authority, but have
mixed with many educated men since and am
bound to say, so far as I can judge. he was tho
haat. met
letters are the most perfect in all respects
have ever received He wrote IN the od-fash-
iOned full. round style, every letter like print,
NOT even a comma missing ia letters of the great
est length. Using the simplest Saxon, he always
said much in little-a duty of every writer of
everything.