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HENEY  W.  GKADY 


U,    twum    llf  -I.-....III    •!    (..    W. 


JOEL  CHANDLER  HARRIS' 


LIFE  OF 


HENRY  W.  GRADY 


INCLUDING  HIS 


WRITINGS  AND  SPEECHES. 


COMPILED  BY  MR.  HENRY,  W.  GRADY'S  CO-WORKERS  ON 

"THE  CONSTITUTION," 

AND   EDITED  BY 

JOEL   CHAKDLER  HARRIS 

i  >  i 

(UNCLE  REMUS). 

THIS    MEMORIAL    VOLUME    IS    SOLD    OKLT    BY    SUBSCRIPTION,   AND    IN    THE    INTERESTS  OF    THE 
FAMILY  AND    MOTHER  OF    MR.  GRADY. 


NEW  YORK : 

CASSELL   PUBLISHING   COMPANY, 

104  &  106  FOUIITII  AVENUE. 


COPTKIOHT, 

By  MRS.  HKMIY  \\  .  (,RADY. 


All  rights  reserved. 


Pittt  W.  L.   Mcrshon  &  Co., 
Rahway,  N.  J. 


LOOKING    FORWARD    TO   THK    REALIZATION   OF    TFIK   T.OFTY   PURPOSE 
THAT   GUIDED   OU» 

MESSENGER  OF  PEACE, 

AND  TO   THE   SPLENDID  CLIMAX  OF  HIS  HOPES  ATID  ASPIRATIONS, 

I 

THIS  MEMORIAL  VOLUME 

OF  THE  LIFE  AND  SERVICES  OF 


IS  DEDICATED  TO  THK 

PEACE,  UNITY  AND  FRATERNITY 

OF  THE 
NORTH  AND   SOUTH,   AND   TO  THE  PROGRESS  ANT)  PROSPERITY  OF 

A  RE-  UNITED  COUNTRY  WTTIT  ONE  FLAG  AND  ONE 
DESTINY. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

IN  MEMORIAM — Henry  Watterson,  -       5 

BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH — Harris,  9 

MEMORIAL  SKETCH —  Verdery,  -     69 

SPEECHES. 

THE  NEW  SOUTH — Delivered  at  the  Banquet  of  the  New 

England  Club,  New  York,  December  21,  1886,  -  83 

THE  SOUTH  AND  HER  PROBLEM — At  the  Dallas,  Texas,  State 

Fair,  October  26,  1887,  -  94 

AT  THE  AUGUSTA  EXPOSITION — In  November,  1887,      -         -       121 

AGAINST  CENTRALIZATION — Before  the  Society  of  the  Univer- 
sity of  Virginia,  June  25,  1889,  -  -  142 

THE  FARMER  AND  THE  CITIES — At  Elberton,  Georgia,  in 

June,  1889,  -  -  158 

AT  THE  BOSTON  BANQUET — Before  the  Merchants'  Association, 

in  December,  1889,  -  180 

BEFORE  THE  BAT  STATE  CLUB — 1889,  -       199 

WRITINGS. 

"  SMALL  JANE  " — The  Story  of  a  Little  Heroine,      -        -        -  211 
DOBBS — A  Thumb-nail  Sketch  of  a  Martyr — A  Blaze  of  Hon- 
esty— The  Father  of  Incongruity — Five  Dollars  a  Week — 
A  Conscientious  Debtor,  -         -       220 

A  CORNER  LOT,        -  ...  .  227 


CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Tm»  ATM  '       TINT. XT— The 

!   litliof  the  Fathers 

bv  n  Philosophers,  -       230 

OS  THK  <  '  .'.WE— All  Amatriil'-  K\|>rri<'iirr  on  ;i  Stl'.im- 

,  <w  Sea-Sickness  Works — Tin-  Sights  <>f  the-  Sea — 
The  Lovers  and  tin-  Pilot— Some  Conclusions  not  Jumped  at  238 
Two  •   H.\\I;  TIIKIM  i:i>  THE  STATE— An  Accidental 

Meeting  on  the  Stivet,  in  which  Two  Great  Men  are  Recog- 
Types  of  Two  Clashing  Theories — Toombs's 
Successes — Brown's  Judgment,  -  245 

"BO«."      ll-.w    VN  OLD    M\N-    "COM!   H..MI-:"— A  Story  With- 
out a  Moral,  Picked  out  of  a  Busy  Life,    -  -  252 
,Mo.\f,  -                                     ...       272 
Is  PLAIX  BLACK  AND  \\'HITE — A  Reply  to  Mr.  Cable,     -        -  285 

TB  BOY  LX  THE  BALCONY,  -         308 

POEMS  BY  VARIOUS  HANDS. 

MY— F.  L.  Stanton,  -  -  -  313 

VSTA — Josephine  Pollard,       -  -  -       316 

\\".  GRADY — James  Whitcombe  Riley,  -  317 

A    KKQUIEM  ix  MEMORY  OP  "HiM  THAT'S  Aw  A'  "  —  Mont- 
gomery M.  fblsom,        -  ....       sig 
-BT  WOOUFIX  GRADY— Henry  O*Meara,  -        ...  320 
A  .  GRADY — Henry  Jerome  Siockard,      -        -        -      322 
<  AM.  HIM  BACK?— Belle  Eyre,          -        .        -323 
HKXBY  W.  GBADY—  G.  W.  Lyon,  -        -        -      324 
i  THE  MASTER  MADE— Mel.  R.  Colquitt,          -        .        -  326 
\,  (  IIKISTMAS,  1889 — Henry  Clay  Lukens,  -        •      327 
IBMORY  OF  HENRY  WOODFIX  GRADY— Zee  F<i!r< 7//A/,        -  328 
A  80 1              i  HIM STMAS  DAY— N.  C.  Thompson,        -        .      329 
Lr  MEMORY  OF  HENRY  W.  GRADY— Elizabeth  J.  Hereford,     -  331 
HT  W.  GRAD^                 /     /,v./,/,,,  -        -        -        .        -      333 
THE  OLD  AJCD  THE  NEW— J.  M.  (jtOnuti,          .  .        .  334 


CONTENTS.  IX 

PAGE 

HENRY  W.  GRADY — E.  A.  B.,  from  the  Boston  Globe,        -      336 
AT  GKADY'S  GRAVE —  Charles  W.  Hubner,      -  -        -  338 


Tin:  ATLANTA  MEMORIAL  MEETING,  -  345 

The  Chi  Phi  Memorial,  -       347 

Address  of  Hon.  Patrick  Walsh,  -  350 

Hon.  B.  H.  Hill,  -  353 

"           Julius  L.  Brown,     -  -  356 

"           Hon.  Albert  Cox,  -       362 

"           Walter  B.  Hill,  -  365 

"           Judge  Howard  Van  Epps,  -  -       369 

Prof.  H.  C.  White,  -  -  373 

"           Hon.  John  Temple  Graves,  -       378 

"           Governor  Gordon,  -  -  382 

MEMORIAL  MEETING  AT  MACON,  GA.,    -  -      385 

Resolutions,       -  -  387 

Alumni  Resolutions,       -  -       389 

Address  of  Mr.  Richardson,       -  -  385 

"           Mr.  Boifeuillet,    -  -       391 

"           Major  Hanson,  -  396 

"           Judge  Speers,       -  -       398 

"           Mr.  Washington,     -  -  406 

"           Mr.  Patterson,      -  -       409 

PERSONAL  TRIBUTES. 

THOUGHTS  ON  H.  W.  GRADY — By  B.  H.  Samett,     -  -  417 
SEARGENT  S.  PRENTISS  AND  HENRY  W.  GRADY.     Similarity  of 

Genius  and  Patriotism — By  Joseph  F.  Pon,  -  421 

SERMON— By  Dr  .T.  De  Witt  Talmage,   -  -  428 

TRIBUTES  OF  THE  NORTHERN  PRESS. 

He  was  the  Embodiment  of  the  Spirit  of  the  New  South — 

From  the  "  Xtw  York  World,"      -        -  -       443 


v 

PAGE 

A  Ti  \  HI   .!.,,in.:ili.st— From  the  "  New   York 

•  444 
Country— From  the  "New  York    Tri- 

445 
1—  From  the  "&••<•   Y»rk 

-  446 
•  t/ie  "  New  York  Star," 

\|,,,,tU. ,.:  itli — From  the  "  Nino  York  Tlnn-x,"  448 

m  the  "  ^Vew  yorA;  Chris/ Inn  I '//  /<>//,"  449 

\  <iloriou8  Mission— From  the  *•  Albany,  N.  Y.,  Argus"      -       450 

(/„  ••/>/<;/"</• //>/<ia  Press,"     -  -  452 

tfu" Philadelphia  Ledger?  -      454 

rv  and  t  /    <>m  the  "  Boston  Advertiser"  -         -   \~>1 

lesson  of    Mr.  (inuly's  Life — From  the  "Philadelphia 

tt»  -       458 

[.088  a  GriHT.il   Calamity — From  the   "St.  Louis   Globe- 
Dt,  -  459 

Sad«l  .Jin-Is— From  the  "Manchester,  N.  II.,  Union,"       461 

\  I  ~.i\\^ — From  the  "Chicago  Inter- Ocean"    -        -462 

1  the  \\\\n\i'^n\\\\i\-\—Fromthe"Pittsbnr(jDi-<]>"t<-li"  464 
_"•  JJrain  ainl  a  Large  Heart — From  the  "  Elmira,  N.  Y., 

465 

Tin  ;i/..-n—  From  the  "  Boston  Globe,"  -467 

A  Loyal  I  i  ionist — From  the  " Chicago  Times"  -      468 

A'ork  was  Not  in  Vain — From  the  "Cleveland,  0.,  Plain- 
dealer^       -  -  468 

•  scntatu  -c  of  i  IK-  Ni-\\-  South — From  the  "Albany, 
N.  -  469 

A  Lamentable  Loss  to  the  Country — From  tlie  "<'!n<-iniiati 

Commercial  Gaz>'  -  170 

ASadLoftg— From  the  "  liufnl,,.  X.    Y.,  /•:..-,, rets,"       -        -471 

•in<i"l'l  V.  )'.,  rall.i.r,,!,,,"    \i:\ 

Sad  News— J  \  ."       -  .  475 

i  From  the " Philadelphia  Times,"      •       177 


CONTENTS.  XI 

PACT 

A  Forceful  Advocate — From  the  "Springrfteld,  Mass.,  Repub- 
lican," -  -479 
His  Great  Work— From  the  "Boston  Pout,"  -  480 
New  England's  Sorrow — From  the  "/><>*?<>n  IL-rald"  -  482 
A  Noble  Life  Ended— From  the  "Philadelphia  Telegraph,"  -  484 
A  Typical  Southerner — From  the  " Chicago  Tribune"  -  486 
His  Name  a  Household  Possession — From  the  "  Independence, 

Mo.,  Sentinel,"  -  487 

Editor,  Orator,  Statesman,  Patriot — From  the  "Kansas  City 

Globe,"  -      488 

A  Southern  Bereavement — Prom  the  "  Cincinnati  Times-Star,"  490 
A  Man  Who  will  be  Missed,  -  -  491 

At  the  Beginning  of  a  Great  Career — From  the  "  Pittsburg 

Post,"  -  493 

The  Peace-Makers — From  the  "  Neio  York  Churchman"  -  494 
One  of  the  Brightest — From  the  " Seattle  Press"  -  -  495 

The  South's  Noble  Son — From  the  "  Rockland,  Me.,  Opinion"  496 
Brilliant  and  Gifted— Dr.  H.  M.  Field  in  "  New  York  Evan- 
gelist,"      -  -  497 
The  Death  of  Henry  W.  Grady — John  Boyle  O'Reilly  in  the 

"Boston  Pilot,"  -  499 

TRIBUTES  OF  THE  SOUTHERN  PRESS. 

A    Noble  Death  —  From  the   "Jacksonville,    Fla.,    Times- 
Union,"    -  -  505 
There   Was  None   Greater — From   the   "  Birmingham,  Mo., 

Chronicle,"   -  .         .         _  .  -       507 

A  Great  Leader  Has  Fallen — From  the  "  Raleigh,  N.  C.,  State 

Chronicle,"        -  -  509 

Henry  W.  Grady — From  the  "  Neio  Orleans  Times- Democrat"  514 
Second  to  None — From  the  "  Louisville  Courier- Journal,  -  517 
A  Loss  to  the  South — From  the  "  Louisville  Post"  -  -  -  519 
The  Death  of  Henry  W.  Grady,  -  -  520 

Universal  Sorrow — From  the"  Nashville  American"      -        -  522 


NTS. 

PAGE 

•'.   ton   X,.<r*  ,i,,d  Cour- 

524 

,-om  the  "  Baltimore  Sun,"     - 
/  ,,,    7V//,',  ,,,,d  Mail"     -       528 

l.tyV  .l..y  — //vw  f/<e  "vl//.s7///,   7Jv.,  &«<«- 

-         -  -  53° 

ry  Grady's  Death  —  7-rom  the  «  Churl*  *t<m  AVr/i/////  &m,"     532 

.,—  /•>"/  r.enville,  N.  C.,  News?    -         -533 

\  Km  ..\vn— /><?;/<  //"  "  liirmingham  News,"  -       535 

II,  nr\   \\    Gimd]      i'r»in  th>  "Augusta  Chronicle,"  -537 

Ix)yal— /Vom  the  "Athens  JJanner"  -       543 

's  Di-:itli— M-omthe  u  Savum,'ih  Times,"  -  544 

[XMI  t«.  (i.  ..r^i.-i— 7*>om  <Ae   "  Cofuiitbii    Euqidrer- 

•      545 

..juent— />o»i  the  "Home  Tribune"     -  -  547 

h  of  IK-iiry  \V.  <;ra.ly— From  the  "  Savannah  X«r*,"  -       549 

\V.  Grady  Drad— /'Vom  the  "Albany  Neics  and  Adver- 
tiser,"       -        -  -  551 
Stillr«l  is  the  Kln.jucnt  Tongue— From  the  "Jirttjtstrirk  Times,"  553 
inin^  Can  cr—  from  the  "  Macon  Telegraph"  -  -  554 
•Calamity— From  the  "Avyiixtn  Xews,"    -         -       557 
linarv  (iri»-f — from  the  "Columbus  Ledger"  -  559 
i  lar.l  to  Y\\\—From  the  "Griffin  News,"                   -       559 
•  Human  ""—From  the  "Thomasville  Enterprise,"          •      560 
Weep*     /'mm  the  "  Union  News,"  -561 
•.,„_/.>,„„  f/te  "  West  Point  Press,"  563 
Him— From  the  "Darien  Timber  Gazette,"     564 
us — From  the  "Marietta  Journal"                      -  565 
Georgia'*  NoMr  Son — From  the  "Madison  Advertiser,"        -       566 
I  >i-ath  <.f  H«  m-y  <;rady— From  the "Hawkinsville Dispatch,"  569 
A  M,  mnlcM  Sorrow — From  the  "Lagrange  Reporter"      -      572 
the  "Ogkthorpe  Echo,"                           -  573 

II     I. MWfl  his  Country— J'rom  the  " Cuthbert  /.<'?»  A//,"          -       574 
\  I.1  R        '1 — T'Vom  /'-  ••  M.I.I;*'.),  .M>nli*<>iiin)t"     -  575 


CONTENTS.  Xlll 

PAGE 

Dedicated  to  Humanity — From  the  "  Sander  smile  Herald  and 

Georgian"  -       576 

The  South  Laments — From  the  "Middle  Georgia  Progress"  578 
His  Career — Front,  the  "Dalton  Citizen"  -  579 

Our  Fallen  Hero— From  the  "Hartwell  Sun,"  -       581 

A  Deathless  Name — From  the  "Gainesville  Eagle"  -  582 

A  Great  Soul— From  the  "Boxley  Banner,"  -  583 

In  Memoriam — From  the  "Henry  Co.  Times"  -  585 

A  People  Mourn — From  the  "  Warrenton  Clipper"  -  -  587 
Henry  W.  Grady  is  No  More — From  the  "  Voldosta  Times"  589 
"  Maybe  his  Work  is  Finished — From  the  "Dalton  Argus"  590 
He  Never  Offended  —  From  the  "  Washington  Chronicle"  -  592 
The  South  in  Mourning — From  the  "Elberton  Star"  -  -  593 
Stricken  at  its  Zenith — From  the  "Greensboro  Herald  and 

Journal,"  -  594 

The  Southland  Mourns — From  the  " Griffin  Morning  Call"  596 
THE  "  CONSTITUTION  "  AND  ITS  WORK,  -  609 

LETTERS  AND  TELEGRAMS  FROM  DISTINGUISHED 

PERSONS. 

Hon.  Chauncey  M.  Depew,       -  -  623 

Ex-President  Cleveland,  -       624 

Hon.  A.  S.  Colyar,  -  -  625 
Hon.  Murat  Halstead,  ...  626 

Hon.  Samuel  J.  Randall,  .  .  627 

Mr.  Andrew  Carnegie,  -       627 

Many  Distinguished  Citizens,  -  -  628 


IN  MEMORIAM. 


IT  is  within  the  bounds  of  entire  accuracy  to  say  that 
the  death  of  no  man  ever  created  a  deeper  and  more 
universal  sorrow  than  that  which  responded  to  the  an- 
nouncement that  HENRY  WOODFIN  GRADY  had  paid  his 
final  debt  of  nature,  and  was  gone  to  his  last  account.  The 
sense  of  grief  and  regret  attained  the  dignity  of  a  national 
bereavement,  and  was  at  one  and  the  same  time  both  pub- 
lic and  personal.  The  young  and  gifted  Georgian  had 
made  a  great  impression  upon  his  country  and  his  time  ; 
blending  an  individuality,  picturesque,  strong  and  attrac- 
tive, and  an  eloquence  as  rarely  solid  as  it  was  rhetorically 
line,  into  a  character  of  the  first  order  of  eminence  and 
brilliancy.  In  every  section  of  the  Union,  the  people  felt 
that  a  noble  nature  and  a  splendid  intellect  had  been  sub- 
tracted from  the  nation's  stock  of  wisdom  and  virtue.  This 
feeling  was  intensified  the  nearer  it  approached  the  region 
where  he  was  best  known  and  honored  :  but  it  reached  the 
farthest  limits  of  the  land,  and  was  expressed  by  all  classes 
and  parties  with  an  homage  equally  ungrudging  and  sin- 
cere. 

In  Georgia,  and  throughout  the  Southern  States,  it  rose 
to  a  lamentation.  He  was,  indeed,  the  hope  and  expectancy 
of  the  young  South,  the  one  publicist  of  the  New  South, 
who,  inheriting  the  spirit  of  the  old,  yet  had  realized  the 
present,  and  looked  into  the  future,  with  the  eyes  of  a 
statesman  and  the  heart  of  a  patriot.  His  own  future  was 
fully  assured.  He  had  made  his  place ;  had  won  his 
spurs  ;  and  he  possessed  the  qualities,  not  merely  to  hold 
them,  but  greatly  to  magnify  their  importance.  That  he 

5 


6 

should  be  cut  down  upon  the  threshold  of  a  career,  for 
whose  magnificent  development  ami  broad  usefulness  all 
was*  --d,  seemed  a  rru«-l  dispensation  of  Providence 

:;:.  :     BOUied    I    heart  br.-akiiiL:   s.-nt  iim-nt    far  beyond  the 

•  »m  passed  by  Mr.  Grady's  personality. 
of  tli.-  d»-iails  of  his  lif'%  and  of  his  life-work,  others 
••spoken  in  the  amplest  terms.     I  shall,  in  this  place, 
content  myself  with  placing  on  the  record  my  own  remem- 
brance and  estimate  of  the  man  as  lit' was  known  tome. 

•  Jrady  became  a  writer  for  the  press  when  but  little 

than  a  boy,  and  during  the  darkest  days  of  the  Re- 

•  ruction  period.     There  was  in  those  days  but  a  single 
polii  ue  for  the  South.     Our  hand  was  in  the  lion's 

.th,  and  we  could  do  nothing,  hope  for  nothing,  until 
we  got  it  out.  The  young  Georgian  was  ardent,  impet- 
uous the  son  of  a  father  slain  in  battle,  the  offspring  of  a 
the  child  of  a  province;  yet  he  rose  to  the  situa- 
ti"ii  with  uncommon  faculties  of  courage  and  perception; 
caught  the  spirit  of  the  struggle  against  reaction  with  per- 
fect reach  ;  and  thivw  himself  into  the  liberal  and  progres- 
sive movements  of  the  time  with  the  genius  of  a  man  born 
for  both  oratory  and  affairs.  At  first,  his  sphere  of  work 
was  confined  to  the  newspapers  of  the  South.  But,  not 
unreasonably  or  unnaturally,  he  wished  a  wider  field  of 
duty,  and  went  East,  carrying  letters  in  which  he  was  com- 
mended in  terms  which  might  have  seemed  extravagant 
then,  hut  which  he  more  than  vindicated.  His  final  settle- 

•  in  the  capital  of  his  native  State,  and  in  a  position 
where  he  could  speak  directly  and  responsibly,  gave  him 
the  opportunity  lie  had  sought  to  make  a  name  and  fame 
for  him-elf,  ;,,,d  an  audience  of  his  own.     Here  he  carried 
the  |,,,li,.y  with  which  he  had  early  identified  himself  to 

'" -lii-ions;   coming  at  once  to  the  front  as  a 

n  of  a  free  South  and  a  united  country,  second  to 

in  efficiency,  equaled  by  none  in  eloquence. 

He  was  ,.;lir,M-  and  aspiring,  and,  in  the  heedlessness  of 

!i,  with  its  aggressive  ambitions,  may  not  have  been  at 

all  times  discriminating  and  considerate  in  the  objects  of 


IN    MEMORIAM.  *  7 

his  attacks  ;  but  he  was  generous  to  a  fault,  and,  as  he 
advanced  upon  the  highway,  he  broadened  with  it  and  to 
it,  and,  if  he  had  lived,  would  have  realized  the  fullest 
measure  of  his  own  promise  and  the  hopes  of  his  friends. 
The  scales  of  error,  when  error  he  felt  he  had  committed, 
were  fast  falling  from  his  eyes,  and  he  was  frank  to  own 
his  changed,  or  changing,  view.  The  vista  of  the  way 
ahead  was  opening  before  him  with  its  far  perspective  clear 
to  his  mental  sight.  He  had  just  delivered  an  utterance  of 
exceeding  weight  and  value,  winning  universal  applause, 
and  was  coming  home  to  be  welcomed  by  his  people  with 
open  arms,  when  the  Messenger  of  Death  summoned  him 
to  his  God.  The  tidings  of  the  fatal  termination  of  his 
disorder,  so  startling  in  their  suddenness  and  unexpected- 
ness, added  to  the  last  scene  of  all  a  feature  of  dramatic 
interest. 

For  my  own  part,  I  can  truly  say  that  I  was  from  the 
first  and  always  proud  of  him,  hailed  him  as  a  young  dis- 
ciple who  had  surpassed  his  elders  in  learning  and  power, 
recognized  in  him  a  master  voice  and  soul,  followed  his 
career  with  admiring  interest,  and  recorded  his  triumphs 
with  ever- increasing  sympathy  and  appreciation.  We  had 
broken  a  lance  or  two  between  us  ;  but  there  had  been  no 
lick  below  the  belt,  and  no  hurt  which  was  other  than  skin- 
deep,  and  during  considerably  more  than  a  year  before  his 
death  a  most  cordial  and  unreserved  correspondence  had 
passed  between  us.  The  telegram  which  brought  the  fatal 
news  was  a  grievous  shock  to  me,  for  it  told  me  that  I  had 
lost  a  good  friend,  and  the  cause  of  truth  a  great  advocate. 
.It  is  with  a  melancholy  satisfaction  that  I  indite  these 
lines,  thankful  for  the  opportunity  afforded  me  to  do  so  by 
the  kindness  of  his  associates  and  family.  Such  spirits 
are  not  of  a  generation,  but  of  an  epoch  ;  and  it  will  be 
long  before  the  South  will  find  one  to  take  the  place  made 
conspicuously  vacant  by  his  absence. 

HENRY  WATTERSON, 
LOUISVILLE,  February  !»,  1890. 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH 

OF 

HENRY  W.  GRADY. 


BY  JOEL  CHANDLER  HARRIS. 


RDINARILY,  it  is  not  a  difficult  matter  to  write  a 
biographical  sketch.  Here  are  the  dates,  one  in 
faded  ink  in  an  old  Bible,  the  other  glistening  under  the 
morning  sun,  or  the  evening  stars,  on  the  cold  grave-stone. 
Here  is  the  business,  the  occupation,  the  profession,  suc- 
cess or  failure — a  little  scrap  of  paper  here  and  there,  and 
beyond  and  above  everything,  the  fact  of  death  ;  of  death 
that,  in  a  pitiful  way,  becomes  as  perfunctory  as  any  other 
fact  or  event.  Ordinarily,  there  is  no  difficulty  in  grouping 
these  things,  throwing  in  a  word  of  eulogy  here  and  there, 
and  sympathizing  in  a  formal  way  with  the  friends  and 
relatives  and  the  community  in  general. 

But  to  give  adequate  shape  to  even  the  slightest  sketch 
of  the  unique  personality  and  the  phenomenal  career  of 
Henry  Woodfin  Grady,  who  died,  as  it  were,  but  yesterday, 
is  well-nigh  impossible  ;  for  here  was  a  life  that  has  no 
parallel  in  our  history,  productive  as  our  institutions  have 
been  of  individuality.  A  great  many  Americans  have 
achieved  fame  in  their  chosen  professions,  —  have  won 
distinction  and  commanded  the  popular  approval,  but  here 
is  a  career  which  is  so  unusual  as  to  have  no  precedent. 
In  recalling  to  mind  the  names  of  those  who  have  been 
most  conspicuously  successful  in  touching  the  popular 
heart,  one  fact  invariably  presents  itself — the  fact  of  office. 
It  is  not,  perhaps,  an  American  fact  peculiarly,  but  it  seems 
to  be  so,  since  the  proud  and  the  humble,  the  great  and  the 

9 


|()  III.NKV     U  .    (-KAI)V, 

.small,  all  seem  willing  to  surrender  to  its  influence.  It  is 
tin-  natural  order  of  things  that  an  American  who  is  ambi- 
tious—who is  willing,  as  the  phrase  goes,  to  serve  the 
aii.l  it  is  ;i  pretty  as  well  as  a  popular  phrase)— 
.should  have  an  eye  on  some  official  position,  more  or  less 
important,  which  In-  would  be  willing  to  accept  even  at  a 

ilice  if  iier.-— ary.  This  is  the  American  plan,  and  it 
been  BO  -anctilied  by  history  and  custom  that  the 
modern  reformers,  who  propose  to  apply  a  test  of  fitness  to 
th«-  ollice-seekers,  are  hooted  at  as  Pharisees.  After  our 
lon^  and  promiscuous  career  of  office-seeking  and  office- 
holdin.ir.  a  test  of  litness  seems  to  be  a  monarchical  invention 
which  has  for  its  purpose  the  destruction  of  our  republican 
institution-. 

It  is  true  that  some  of  the  purest  and  best  men  in  our 
hiMory  have  held  office,  and  have  sought  it,  and  this  fact 

-  additional  emphasis  to  one  feature  of  Henry  Grady's 
career.  H<>  never  sought  office,  and  he  was  prompt 
fuse  it  whenever  it  was  brought  within  his  reach.  On 
one  occasion  a  tremendous  effort  was  made  to  induce  him 
to  become  a  candidate  for  Congress  in  the  Atlanta  district. 
The  most  prominent  people  in  the  district  urged  him,  his 
friends  implored  him,  and  a  petition  largely  signed  was 

«'nted  to  him.  Never  before  in  Georgia  has  a  citizen 
been  formally  petitioned  by  so  large  a  number  of  his  fellow- 
citi/ens  to  accept  so  important  an  office.  Mr.  Grady 

rded  the  petition  with  great  curiosity.  He  turned  it 
over  in  his  mind  and  played  with  it  in  a  certain  boyish  and 
impulsive  way  that  belonged  to  everything  he  did  and  that 

one  of  the  most  charming  elements  of  his  character. 
1 1  is  response  to  the  petition  is  worth  giving  here.  He  was, 
as  he  said,  strongly  tempted  to  improve  a  most  flattering 
opportunity.  He  then  goes  on  to  read  a  lesson  to  the 
younir  men  of  the  South  that  is  still  timely,  though  it  was 
written  in  1882.  He  says : 

When  I  was  eighteen  years  of  age,  I  adopted  .•journalism  as  my  pro- 
fession. Afli-r  thirteen  years  of  service,  in  which  I  have  had  various 
fortunes,  I  can  say  that  I  have  never  seen  a  day  when  I  regretted  my 


HIS    LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND    SPEECHES.  11 

choice.  On  the  contrary,  I  have  seen  the  field  of  journalism  so 
enlarged,  its  possibilities  so  widened,  and  its  influence  so  extended,  that 
I  have  come  to  believe  earnestly  that  no  man,  no  matter  what  his  call- 
ing, his  elevation,  or  his  opportunity,  can  equal  in  dignity,  honor  and 
usefulness  the  journalist  who  comprehends  his  position,  fairly 
measures  his  duties,  and  gives  himself  entirely  and  unselfishly  to  his 
work.  But  journalism  is  a  jealous  profession,  and  demands  the  fullest 
allegiance  of  those  who  seek  its  honors  or  emoluments.  Least  of  all 
things  can  it  be  made  the  aid  of  the  demagogue,  or  the  handmaid  of 
the  politician.  The  man  who  uses  his  journal  to  subserve  his  political 
ambition,  or  writes  with  a  sinister  or  personal  purpose,  soon  loses  his 
power,  and  had  best  abandon  a  profession  he  has  betrayed.  Within 
my  memory  there  are  frequent  and  striking  examples  of  men  who  have 
sacrificed  the  one  profession,  only  to  be  sacrificed  in  the  other.  History 
has  not  recorded  the  name  of  a  single  man  who  has  been  great  enough 
to  succeed  in  both.  Therefore,  devoted  as  I  am  to  my  profession, 
believing  as  I  do  that  there  is  more  of  honor  and  usefulness  for  me 
along  its  way  than  in  another  path,  and  that  my  duty  is  clear  and 
unmistakable,  I  am  constrained  to  reaffirm  in  my  own  mind  and  to 
declare  to  you  the  resolution  I  made  when  I  entered  journalism, 
namely,  that  as  long  as  I  remain  in  its  ranks  1  will  never  become  a  can- 
didate for  any  political  office,  or  draw  a  dollar  from  any  public  treasury. 
This  rule  I  have  never  broken,  and  I  hope  I  never  shall.  As  a  matter 
of  course,  every  young  man  of  health  and  spirit  must  have  ambition, 
I  think  it  has  been  the  curse  of  the  South  that  our  young  men  have 
considered  little  else  than  political  preferment  worthy  of  an  ambitious 
thought.  There  is  a  fascination  about  the  applause  of  the  hustings 
that  is  hard  to  withstand.  Really,  there  is  no  career  that  brings  so 
much  of  unhappiness  and  discontent — so  much  of  subservience,  sacri- 
fice, and  uncertainty  as  that  of  the  politician.  Never  did  the  South 
offer  so  little  to  her  young  men  in  the  direction  of  politics  as  she  does 
at  present.  Never  did  she  offer  so  much  in  other  directions.  As  for 
me,  my  ambition  is  a  simple  one.  I  shall  be  satisfied  with  the  labors 
of  my  life  if,  when  those  labors  are  over,  my  son,  looking  abroad  upon 
a  better  and  grander  Georgia — a  Georgia  that  has  filled  the  destiny  God 
intended  her  for — when  her  towns  and  cities  are  hives  of  industry,  and 
her  country-side  the  exhaustless  fields  from  which  their  stores  are 
drawn — when  every  stream  dances  on  its  way  to  the  music  of  spindles, 
and  every  forest  echoes  back  the  roar  of  the  passing  train — when  her 
valleys  smile  with  abundant  harvests,  and  from  her  hill-sides  come  the 
tinkling  of  bells  as  her  herds  and  flocks  go  forth  from  their  folds — 
when  more  than  two  million  people  proclaim  her  perfect  independence, 
and  bless  her  with  their  love— I  shall  be  more  than  content,  I  say.  if 
my  son,  looking  upon  such  scenes  as  these,  can  stand  up  and  say: 


ll>  HF\KY    W,    'iKADY, 

"  My  father  bore  a  part  in  this  work,  and  his  name   lives  in  the 

memory  of  this  JM  . 

While  I  am  forced,  therefore,  to  decline  to  allow  the  use  of  my 

name  as  you  request.  I  cannot  dismiss  your  testimonial,  unprecedented. 

MI  its  character  and  compass,  without  renewing-  my  thanks 

for    tin-   generous   motives   that    inspired    it.     Life   can    brin^   me  no 

sweeter  satisfaction  than  comes  from  this  expression  of  confidence  and 

esteem  from  the  people  with  whom  I  live,  and  amon^  whom  I  expect 

to  die.     You  have  been  pleased  to  commend  the  work  1  may  have  done 

for  the  old  State  wo  love  so  well.     Rest  assured  that  you  have  to  day 

repaid  me  amply  for  the  past,  and  have  strengthened  me  for  whatever 

aay  lie  ahead. 

Brief  as  it  is,  this    is  a  complete  summary  of    Mr. 

ly's  purpose  so  far  as  politics  were  concerned.  It  is 
the  key -note  of  his  career.  He  was  ambitious — he  was  fired 
with  that  "noble  discontent,"  born  of  genius,  that  spurs 
men  to  action,  but  he  lacked  the  selfishness  that  leads  to 
oflire-se.-king.  It  is  not  to  be  supposed,  however,  that  he 

•M-d  politics.  HP  had  unbounded  faith  in  the  end  and 
aim  of  certain  principles  of  government,  and  he  had  unlim- 
ited confidence  in  the  honesty  and  justice  of  the  people 
and  in  the  destiny  of  the  American  Union — in  the  future 
of  the  Republic. 

What  was  the  secret  of  his  popularity?    By  what  meth- 

iid  he  win  the  affections  of  people  who  never  saw  his 
face  or  heard  his  voice  ?  His  aversion  to  office  was  not 
generally  known— indeed,  men  who  regarded  him  in  the 
li.u-lit  of  rivalry,  and  who  had  access  to  publications  neither 
friendly  nor  appreciative,  had  advertised  to  the  contrary. 
By  them  it  was  hinted  that  he  was  continually  seeking 
office  and  employing  for  that  purpose  all  the  secret  arts  of 
the  demagogue.  Vet,  in  the  face  of  these  sinister  intima- 
tions. In-  died  the  best  beloved  and  the  most  deeply 

uted  man  that  Georgia  has  ever  produced,  and,  to  crown 
it  all,  he  died  a  private  citi/en,  sacrificing  his  life  in  behalf 
of  a  purpose  that  was  neither  personal  nor  sectional,  but 
grandly  national  in  its  aims. 

In  the  last  intimate  conversation  lie  had  with  the  writer 
of  this,   Mr.  Grady  regretted  that  there  were  people  in 


HIS    LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND    SPEECHES.  13 

Georgia  who  misunderstood  his  motives  and  intentions. 
We  were  on  the  train  going  from  Macon  to  Eatonton,  where 
he  was  to  speak. 

"lam  going  to  Eatonton  solely  because  you  seem  to 
have  your  heart  set  on  it,"  he  said.  "There  are  people 
who  will  say  that  I  am  making  a  campaign  in  my  own 
behalf,  and  you  will  hear  it  hinted  that  I  am  going  about 
the  State  drumming  up  popularity  for  the  purpose  of  run- 
ning for  some  office." 

The  idea  seemed  to  oppress  him,  and  though  he  never 
bore  malice  against  a  human  being,  he  was  keenly  hurt  at 
any  interpretation  of  his  motives  that  included  selfishness 
or  self-seeking  among  them.  In  this  way,  he  was  often 
deeply  wounded  by  men  who  ought  to  have  held  up  his 
hands. 

When  he  died,  those  who  had  wronged  him,  perhaps 
unintentionally,  by  attributing  to  him  a  selfish  ambition 
that  he  never  had,  were  among  the  first  to  do  justice  to  his 
motives.  Their  haste  in  this  matter  (there  are  two  instan- 
ces in  my  mind)  has  led  me  to  believe  that  their  instinct  at 
the  last  was  superior  to  their  judgment.  I  have  recently 
read  again  nearly  all  the  political  editorials  contributed  to 
the  Constitution  by  Mr.  Grady  during  the  last  half-dozen 
years.  Taken  together,  they  make  a  remarkable  show- 
ing. They  manifest  an  extraordinary  growth,  not  in 
style  or  expression — for  all  the  graces  of  composi- 
tion were  fully  developed  in  Mr.  Grady' s  earliest 
writings — but  in  lofty  aim,  in  the  high  and  patriotic  pur- 
pose that  is  to  be  found  at  its  culmination  in  his  Boston 
speech.  I  mention  the  Boston  speech  because  it  is  the  last 
serious  effort  he  made.  *  Reference  might  just  as  well  have 
been  made  to  the  New  England  speech,  or  to  the  Elberton 
speech,  or  to  the  little  speech  he  delivered  at  Eatonton, 
and  which  was  never  reported.  In  each  and  all  of  these 
there  is  to  be  found  the  qualities  that  are  greater  than  lit- 
erary nimbleness  or  rhetorical  fluency — the  qualities  that 
kindle  the  fires  of  patriotism  and  revive  and  restore  the 
love  of  country. 


14  \V.    GKADY, 

In  hi-  Kaionton  speech,  Mr.  Grady  was  particularly 
happv  in  his  ivf.-ivnco  i<,  ;i  restored  I'nion  and  a  common 
country,  and  his  .-arne>i  ness  and  his  eloquence  were  as 
'•i.-iitious  th.-n-  as  it'  he  were  speaking  to  the  largest 
and  most  disting uished  audience  in  the  world,  and  as  if  his 
address  were  to  be  printed  in  all  tli<-  newspapers  of  the 
land.  I  am  dwelling  on  these  things  in  order  to  show  that 
there  was  nothing  affected  or  perfunctory  in  Mr.  (Brady's 
attitude.  He  had  political  enemies  in  the  State — men  who, 
a!  >ome  turn  in  their  career,  had  felt  the  touch  and  influ- 
ence of  his  hand,  or  thought  they  did — and  these  men  were 
alwa\s  r.-ady,  through  their  small  organs  and  mouthpieces, 
to  belittle  his  efforts  and  to  dash  their  stale  small  beer 
acio>s  the  path  of  this  prophet  of  the  New  South,  who 
strove  to  impress  his  people  with  his  own  brightness  and 
to  lead  them  into  the  sunshine  that  warmed  his  own  life 
and  made  it  beautiful.  Perhaps  these  things  should  not 
be  mentioned  in  a  sketch  that  can  only  be  general  in  its 
nature  ;  and  yet  they  afford  a  key  to  Mr.  Grady's  charac- 
ter ;  they  supply  t lie  means  of  getting  an  intimate  glimpse 
of  his  motives.  That  the  thoughtless  and  ill-tempered 
criticisms  of  his  contemporaries  wrounded  him  is  beyond 
question.  They  troubled  him  greatly,  and  he  used  to  talk 
about  them  to  his  co-workers  with  the  utmost  freedom. 
But  they  never  made  him  malicious.  He  always  had  some 
excuse  to  offer  for  those  who  misinterpreted  him,  and  no 
attack,  however  bitter,  was  ever  made  on  his  motives,  that 
he  could  not  find  a  reasonable  excuse  for  in  some  genial 
and  graceful  way. 

The  great  point  about  this  man  was  that  he  never  bore 
malice.  II is  heart  was  too  tender  and  his  nature  too  gen- 
erous. The  small  jealousies,  and  rivalries,  and  envies  that 
appertain  to  life,  and,  indeed,  are  a  definite  part  of  it, 
never  touched  him  in  the  slightest  degree.  He  was  con- 
scious of  the  growth  of  his  powers,  and  he  watched  their 
development  with  the  cariosity  and  enthusiasm  of  a  boy, 
but  the  egotism  that  is  based  on  arrogance  or  self-esteem 
he  had  no  knowledge  of.  The  consciousness  of  the  purity 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  16 

of  his  motives  gave  him  strength  and  power  in  a  direction 
where  most  other  public  men  are  weak.  This  same  con- 
sciousness gave  a  breadth,  an  ardor,  and  an  impulsiveness 
to  his  actions  and  utterances  that  seem  to  be  wholly  lack- 
ing in  the  lives  of  other  public  men  who  have  won  the 
applause  of  the  public.  The  secret  of  this  it  would  be 
difficult  to  define.  When  his  companions  in  the  office 
insisted  that  it  was  his  duty  to  prepare  at  least  an  outline 
of  his  speeches  so  that  the  newspapers  could  have  the 
benefit  of  such  a  basis,  the  suggestion  fretted  him.  His 
speech  at  the  annual  banquet  of  the  New  England  Society, 
which  created  such  a  tremendous  sensation,  was  an 
impromptu  effort  from  beginning  to  end.  It  was  the  creature 
of  the  occasion.  Fortunately,  a  reporter  of  the  New  York 
Tribune  was  present,  and  he  has  preserved  for  us  some- 
thing of  the  flavor  and  finish  of  the  words  which  the  young 
Southerner  uttered  on  his  first  introduction  to  a  Northern 
audience.  The  tremendous  impression  that  he  made,  how- 
ever, has  never  been  recorded.  There  was  a  faint  echo  of 
it  in  the  newspapers,  a  buzz  and  a  stir  in  the  hotel  lobbies, 
but  all  that  was  said  was  inadequate  to  explain  why  these 
sons  of  New  England,  accustomed  as  they  were  to  eloquence 
of  the  rarer  kind,  as  the  volumes  of  their  proceedings 
show,  rose  to  their  feet  and  shouted  themselves  hoarse 
over  the  simple  and  impromptu  effort  of  this  young 
Georgian. 

Mr.  Grady  attended  the  New  England  banquet  for  the 
purpose  of  making  a  mere  formal  response  to  the  toast  of 
"The  South,"  but,  as  he  said  afterwards,  there  was  some- 
thing in  the  scene  that  was  inspiring.  Near  him  sat  Gen- 
eral Tecumseh  Sherman,  who  marched  through  Georgia 
with  fire  and  sword,  and  all  around  him  were  the  fat  and 
jocund  sons  of  New  England  who  had  prospered  by  the 
results  of  the  war  while  his  own  people  had  had  the  direst 
poverty  for  their  portion.  "  When  I  found  myself  on  my 
feet,"  he  said,  describing  the  scene  on  his  return,  "every 
nerve  in  my  body  was  strung  as  tight  as  a  fiddle-string,  and 
all  tingling.  I  knew  then  that  1  hud  a  message  for  that 


ID  .  i:Y     W.    (iUADV, 

assemblage,  and  as  soon  as  I  opened  my  mouth  it  came 
i  u>hing  out." 

That  sperch,  as  we  all  know,  was  an  achievement  in 
its  way.  It  stirred  the  whole  country  from  one  end  to  the 
other,  :ind  made  Mr.  Grady  famous.  Invitations  to  speak 
iMiinvd  in  upon  him  from  all  quarters,  and  he  at  last  decided 
to  deliver  an  address  at  Dallas,  Texas.  His  friends  advised 
him  to  prepare  the  speech  in  advance,  especially  as  many  of 
the  newspapers  of  the  country  would  be  glad  to  have  proofs 
of  it  to  be  used  when  it  was  delivered.  He  saw  how  essential 
this  would  be,  but  the  preparation  of  a  speech  in  cold  blood 
(as  he  phrased  it)  was  irksome  to  him,  and  failed  to  meet  the 
approval  of  his  methods,  which  were  as  responsive  to  the 
occasion  as  the  report  of  the  thunder-clap  is  to  the  light- 
ning's flash.  He  knew  that  he  could  depend  on  these 
methods  in  all  emergencies  and  under  all  circumstances, 
and  he  felt  that  only  by  depending  on  them  could  he  do 
himself  justice  before  an  audience.  The  one  characteristic 
of  all  his  speeches,  as  natural  to  his  mind  as  it  was  sur- 
prising to  the  minds  of  others,  was  the  ease  and  felicity 
with  which  he  seized  on  suggestions  born  of  the  moment 
and  growing  out  of  his  immediate  surroundings.  It  might 
be  some  incident  occurring  to  the  audience,  some  failure  in 
the  programme,  some  remark  of  the  speaker  introducing 
him,  or  some  unlooked-for  event ;  but,  whatever  it  was,  he 
seized  it  and  compelled  it  to  do  duty  in  pointing  a  beautiful 
moral,  or  he  made  it  the  basis  of  that  swift  and  genial 
humor  that  was  a  feature  not  only  of  his  speeches,  but  of 
his  daily  life. 

He  was  prevailed  on,  however,  to  prepare  his  Dallas 
speech  in  advance.  It  was  put  in  type  in  the  Const  Hut  ion 
office,  carefully  revised,  and  proof  slips  sent  out  to  a  num- 
ber of  newspapers.  Mr.  Grady's  journey  from  Atlanta  to 
Dallas,  which  was  undertaken  in  a  special  car,  was  in  the 
nat  ure  of  an  ovation.  He  was  met  at  every  station  by  large 
crowds,  and  his  appearance  created  an  enthusiasm  that  is 
indescribable.  No  such  tribute  as  this  has  ever  before  been 
paid,  under  any  circumstances,  to  any  private  American 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  17 

citizen,  and  it  is  to  be  doubted  whether  even  any  public 
official,  no  matter  how  exalted  his  station,  has  ever  been 
greeted  with  such  hearty  and  spontaneous  enthusiasm. 
His  reception  in  Dallas  was  the  culmination  of  the  series 
of  ovations  through  which  he  had  passed.  Some  sort  of 
programme  had  been  arranged  by  a  committee,  but  the 
crowds  trampled  on  this,  and  the  affair  took  the  shape  of 
an  American  hullaballoo,  so  to  speak,  and,  as  such,  it  was 
greatly  enjoyed  by  Mr.  Grady. 

Meanwhile,  the  programme  that  had  been  arranged  for 
the  speech-making  was  fully  carried  out.  The  young  edi- 
tor completely  captured  the  vast  crowd  that  had  assembled 
to  hear  him.  This  information  had  been  promptly  carried 
to  the  Constitution  office  by  private  telegrams,  and  every- 
thing was  made  ready  for  giving  the  speech  to  the  public 
the  next  morning ;  but  during  the  afternoon  this  telegram 
came: 


u 


Suppress  speech:  It  has    been   entirely   changed. 
Notify  other  papers ." 

At  the  last  moment,  his  mind  full  of  the  suggestions  of 
his  surroundings,  he  felt  that  the  prepared  speech  could 
not  be  depended  on,  and  he  threw  it  away.  It  was  a  great 
relief  to  him,  he  told  me  afterward,  to  be  able  to  do  this. 
Whatever  in  the  prepared  speech  seemed  to  be  timely  he 
used,  but  he  departed  entirely  from  the  line  of  it  at  every 
point,  and  the  address  that  the  Texans  heard  was  mainly 
an  impromptu  one.  It  created  immense  enthusiasm,  and 
confirmed  the  promise  of  the  speech  before  the  New  Eng- 
land Society. 

The  speech  before  the  University  of  Virginia  was  also 
prepared  beforehand,  but  Mr.  Grady  made  a  plaything  of 
the  preparation  before  his  audience.  "I  was  never  so  thor- 
oughly convinced  of  Mr.  Grady 's  power,"  said  the  Hon. 
Guyton  McLendon,  of  Thomasville,  to  the  writer,  "as 
when  I  heard  him  deliver  this  speech."  Mr.  McLendon  had 
accompanied  him  on  his  journey  to  Charlottesville.  "  We 


18  Hl.NRY  W.    GRADY, 

-j>.-nt  a  .l:iy  in  Washington,"  said  Mr.  McLendon,  recalling 
ih.'  incidents  of  tin-  trip.  "  The  rest  of  the  party  rode 
•found  the  capital  looking  at  the  sights,  but  Mr.  Grady, 
niY-.-lf,  and  one  «>r  t\\o  others  remained  in  the  car.  \Vhile 
we  wen-  waiting  then-,  Mr.  (Jrady  read  me  the  printed  slips 
of  his  speech,  and  I  remember  that  it  made  a  great  impres- 
sion on  me.  I  thought  it  was  good  enough  for  any  occa- 
sion, but  Mr.  Grady  seemed  to  have  his  doubts  about  it. 
He  examined  it  critically  two  or  three  times,  and  made 
some  alterations.  Finally  he  laid  it  away.  When  he  did 
come  to  deliver  the  speech,  I  was  perhaps  the  most  aston- 
ished person  you  ever  saw.  I  expected  to  hear  again  the 
speech  that  had  been  read  to  me  in  the  Pullman  coach,  but 
1  heard  a  vastly  different  and  a  vastly  better  one.  He  used 
the  old  speech  only  where  it  was  most  timely  and  most 
convenient .  The  incident  of  delivering  the  prize  to  a  young 
stud. -nt  who  had  won  it  on  a  literary  exercise  of  some  sort, 
started  Mr.  Grady  off  in  a  new  vein  and  on  a  new  line,  and 
after  that  he  used  the  printed  speech  merely  to  fill  out  with 
here  and  there.  It  was  wonderful  how  he  could  break 
away  from  it  and  come  back  to  it,  fitting  the  old  with  the 
new  in  a  beautiful  and  harmonious  mosaic.  If  anybody 
had  told  me  that  the  human  mind  was  capable  of  such  a 
performance  as  this  on  the  wing  and  in  the  air,  so  to  speak, 
I  shouldn't  have  believed  it.  To  me  it  was  a  wonderful 
manifestation  of  genius,  and  I  knew  then,  for  the  first 
time,  that  there  was  no  limit  to  Mr.  Grady's  power  and 

itility  as  a  speaker." 

In  his  speeches  in  the  country  towns  of  Georgia  and 
before  the  farmers,  Mr.  Grady  made  no  pretense  of  prepa- 
ration.  His  private  secretary,  Mr.  James  R.  Holliday, 

:ht  and  wrote  out  the  pregnant  paragraphs  that  go  to 
make  up  his  Elberton  speech,  which  was  the  skeleton  and 
outline  on  which  he  based  his  speeches  to  the  farmers. 
Kadi  speech,  as  might  be  supposed,  was  a  beautiful  varia- 
tion of  this  rural  theme  to  which  he  was  wedded,  but  the 

itial  part  of  the  Elberton  speech  was  the  bone  and 
marrow  of  all.     I  think  there  is  no  passage  in  our  modern 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  19 

literature  equal  in  its  effectiveness  and  pathos  to  his 
picture  of  a  Southern  farmer's  home.  It  was  a  matter  on 
which  his  mind  dwelt.  There  was  that  in  his  nature  to 
which  both  sun  and  soil  appealed.  The  rain  falling  on  a 
fallow  field,  the  sun  shining  on  the  bristling  and  waving 
corn,  and  the  gentle  winds  of  heaven  blowing  over  all — he 
was  never  tired  of  talking  of  these,  and  his  talk  always 
took  the  shape  of  a  series  of  picturesque  descriptions.  He 
appreciated  their  spiritual  essence  as  well  as  their  material 
meaning,  and  he  surrendered  himself  entirely  to  all  the 
wholesome  suggestions  that  spring  from  the  contemplation 
of  rural  scenes. 

I  suppose  it  is  true  that  all  men — except  those  who 
are  brought  in  daily  contact  with  the  practical  and  prosy 
side  of  it — have  a  longing  for  a  country  life.  Mr.  Grady's 
longing  in  that  direction  took  the  shape  of  a  passion  that 
was  none  the  less  serious  and  earnest  because  he  knew  it 
was  altogether  romantic.  In  the  Spring  of  1889,  the  matter 
engaged  his  attention  to  such  an  extent,  that  he  commis- 
sioned a  compositor  in  the  Constitution  office  to  purchase 
a  suburban  farm.  He  planned  it  all  out  beforehand,  and 
knew  just  where  the  profits  were  to  come  in.  His  descrip- 
tions of  his  imaginary  farm  were  inimitable,  and  the 
details,  as  he  gave  them  out,  were  marked  by  the  rare 
humor  with  which  he  treated  the  most  serious  matters. 
There  was  to  be  an  old-fashioned  spring  in  a  clump  of  large 
oak-trees  on  the  place,  meadows  of  orchard  grass  and  clo- 
ver, through  which  mild-eyed  Jerseys  were  to  wander  at 
will,  and  in  front  of  the  house  there  was  to  be  a  barley 
patch  gloriously  green,  and  a  colt  frolicking  and  capering 
in  it.  The  farm  was  of  course  a  dream,  but  it  was  a  very 
beautiful  one  while  it  lasted,  and  he  dwelt  on  it  with  an 
earnestness  that  was  quite  engaging  to  those  who  en  jo  VIM  I 
his  companionship.  The  farm  was  a  dream,  but  he  no 
doubt  got  more  enjoyment  and  profit  out  of  it  than  a  grout 
many  prosy  people  get  out  of  the  farms  that  are  real. 
Insubstantial  as  it  was,  Mr.  Grady's  farm  served  to  relieve 
the  tension  of  a  mind  that  was  always  busy  with  the  larger 


20  HKNIiY    W.    (iKADV, 

affairs  of  this  Im^y  and  .siirring  ag«-,  and  many  a  time  when 
In-  i;n-u  tijvd  of  thf  incessant  demands  made  oil  his  time 
and  patience  he  would  close  the  door  of  his  room  with  a. 
l-aiiir  and  instruct  the  office-boy  to  tell  all  callers  that  he 
had  "gone  to  his  farm."  The  fat  cows  that  grazed  there 
d  their  welcome,  the  chickens  cackled,  to  see  him  com*-, 
and  tin-  colt  capered  nimbly  in  the  green  expanse  of  bar- 
ley—children of  his  dreams  all,  but  all  grateful  and  restful 
to  a  busy  mind. 

II. 

In  this  hurriedly  written  sketch,  which  is  thrown 
together  to  meet  the  modern  exigencies  of  publishing,  the 
round,  and  full,  and  complete  biography  cannot  be  looked 
for.  There  is  no  time  here  for  the  selection  and  arrange- 
ment in  an  orderly  way  of  the  details  of  this  busy  and 
brilliant  life.  Under  the  circumstances,  even  the  hand  of 
affection  can  only  touch  it  here  and  there  so  swiftly  and  so 
lightly  that  the  random  result  must  be  inartistic  and  unsat- 
isfactory. It  was  at  such  moments  as  these — moments  of 
hurry  and  high-pressure — that  Mr.  Grady  was  at  his  best. 
His  hand  was  never  surer, — the  machinery  of  his  mind  was 
never  more  responsive  to  the  tremendous  demands  he  made 
on  it, — than  when  the  huge  press  of  the  Constitution  was 
waiting  his  orders  ;  when  the  forms  were  waiting  to  be 
closed,  when  the  compositors  were  fretting  and  fuming  for 
copy,  and  when,  perhaps,  an  express  train  was  waiting  ten 
minutes  over  its  time  to  carry  the  Constitution  to  its  sub- 
scribers. All  his  faculties  were  trained  to  meet  emergen- 
cies ;  and  he  was  never  happier  than  when  meeting  them, 
whether  in  a  political  campaign,  in  conventions,  in  local 
issues,  or  in  the  newspaper  business  a>  correspondent  or 
managing  editor.  Pressed  by  the  emergency  of  his  death, 
which  to  me  was  paralyzing,  and  by  the  necessity  of  haste, 
which,  at  this  juncture,  is  confusing,  these  reminiscences 
have  taken  on  a  disjointed  shape  sadly  at  variance  with 
the  demands  of  literary  art.  Let  me,  therefore,  some- 
where in  the  middle,  begin  at  the  beginning. 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND    SPEECHES.  21 

Henry  Woodfin  Grady  was  born  in  Athens,  Georgia, 
on  the  24th  of  April,  1850.  As  a  little  boy  he  was  the 
leader  of  all  the  little  boys  of  his  acquaintance— full  of 
that  moral  audacity  that  takes  the  lead  in  all  innocent  and 
healthy  sports.  An  old  gentleman,  whose  name  I  have 
forgotten,  came  into  the  Constitution  editorial  rooms 
shortly  after  Mr.  Grady  delivered  the  New  England  ban- 
quet speech,  to  say  that  he  knew  Henry  when  a  boy.  I 
listened  with  interest,  but  the  memory  of  what  he  said  is 
vague.  I  remember  that  his  reminiscences  had  a  touch  of 
enthusiasm,  going  to  show  that  the  little  boy  was  attractive 
enough  to  make  a  deep  impression  on  his  elders.  He  had, 
even  when  a  child,  all  those  qualities  that  draw  attention 
and  win  approval.  It  is  easy  to  believe  that  he  was  a  some- 
what boisterous  boy.  Even  after  he  had  a  family  of  his 
own,  and  when  he  was  supposed  (as  the  phrase  is)  to  have 
settled  down,  he  still  remained  a  boy  to  all  intents  and 
purposes.  His  vitality  was  inexhaustible,  and  his  flow  of 
animal  spirits  unceasing.  In  all  athletic  sports  and  out- 
door exercises  he  excelled  while  at  school  and  college,  and 
it  is  probable  that  his  record  as  a  boxer,  wrestler,  sprinter, 
and  an  all-around  athlete  is  more  voluminous  than  his 
record  for  scholarship.  To  the  very  last,  his  enthusiasm 
for  these  sports  was,  to  his  intimate  friends,  one  of  the 
most  interesting  characteristics  of  this  many-sided  man. 

One  of  his  characteristics  as  a  boy,  and  it  was  a  char- 
acteristic that  clung  to  him  through  all  his  life,  was  his 
love  and  sympathy  for  the  poor  and  lowly,  for  the  desti- 
tute and  the  forlorn.  This  was  one  of  the  problems  of  life 
that  he  could  never  understand, — why,  in  the  economy  of 
Providence,  some  human  beings  should  be  rich  and  happy, 
and  others  poor  and  friendless.  When  a  very  little  child 
he  began  to  try  to  solve  the  problem  in  his  own  way.  It 
was  a  small  way,  indeed,  but  if  all  who  are  fortunately 
situated  should  make,  the  same  effort  charity  would  cause 
the  whole  world  to  smile,  and  Heaven  could  not  possibly 
withhold  the  rich  promise  of  its  blessings.  From  his  enrli- 
est  childhood,  Mr.  Grady  had  a  fondness  for  the  negro 


22  FBI    Wt 

II.-   was   f<>:id   of   tin-   negroes  because   they    were 
ndeut,  his  heart  \\riil  out  1»   them  because  he  under- 
1  and  appreciated  their  position.     When  he  was  two 
>  old,  he  had  a  little  negro  hoy  named  Isaac  to  \vaiton 
him.     lie  ahvays  called   this  negro  "  Brother  Isaac,"  and 
ould  cry  bitterly,  if'any'oiic  told  him  that  Isaac  was  not 
his  hrother.     As  he  grew  older  his  interest  in  the  negroes 
and  his  fondness  for  them  increased.     Until  lie  was  eight 
or   nine    years   old    he   always   called    his   mother   "Dear 
mother,"  and  when  the  weather  was  very  cold,  he  had  a 
habit  of  waking  in  the  night  and  saying:  "Dear  mother, 
do  you  think  the  servants  have  enough  cover  ?     It's  so  cold, 
and   1  want   them   to  he  warm.1"     His   first   thought   was 
always  for  the  destitute  and  the  lowly — for  those  who  were 
dependent  on  him  or  on  ot  hers.     At  home  he  always  shared 
his  lunch  with  the  negro  children,  and  after  the  slaves  were 
1.  and   were  in  such  a  destitute  condition,  scarcely  a 
week  passed  that  some  forlorn-looking  negro  boy  did  not 
bring   his   mother  a  note  something    like  this:    "Di:Ai: 
Mo i  ii HI;  ;  Please  give  this  child  something  to  eat.     He 
looks  so  hungry.     H.  W.  G."     It  need  not  be  said  that  no 
one  bearing  credentials  signed  by  this  thoughtful   and 
unselfish  boy  was  ever  turned  away  hungry  from  the  Grady 
door.     It  may  be  said,  too,  that  his  love  and  sympathy  for 
the  negroes  was  fully   appreciated    by    that    race.     His 
mother  says  that   she  never  had  a  servant  during  all  his 
life  that  was  not  devoted  to  him,  and  never  knew  one  to 
ogry  or  impatient  with  him.     II<>  could  never  bear  to 
any  one  angry  or  unhappy  about  him.    Asa  child  In- 
lit  to  heal  the  wounds  of  the  sorrowing,  and  to  the 
last,  though  he  \\as  worried  by  the  vast  responsibilities  he 
had  taken  on  his  shoulders  and  disturbed  by  the  thought- 
lemands  made, on  his  timeand  patience,  hesull'eivd  more 
from  the  8OITOWS  of  Others  than   from  any   troubles  of  his 
own.     When  he  went  to  school,  he  carried  the  same  quali- 
tie^  of  sympathy  and  unselfishness  that  had  made   him 
charming  as  a    child.      If,  among   his  school-mates,   there 
wa>  to  !»•  found  a  poor  or  a  delicate  child,  he  took  that 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  23 

child  under  his  especial  care,  and  no  one  was  allowed  to 
trouble  it  in  any  way. 

Shortly  after  he  graduated  at  the  State  University,  an 
event  occurred  that  probably  decided  Mr.  Grady's  future 
ture  career.  In  an  accidental  way  he  went  on  one  of  the 
annual  excursions  of  the  Georgia  Press  Association  as  the 
correspondent  of  the  Constitution.  His  letters  describing 
the  incidents  of  the  trip  were  written  over  the  signature  of 
"King  Hans." 

They  were  full  of  that  racy  humor  that  has  since 
become  identified  with  a  large  part  of  Mr.  Grady's  journal- 
istic work.  They  had  a  flavor  of  audacity  about  them,  and 
that  sparkling  suggestiveness  that  goes  first  by  one  name 
and  then  another,  but  is  chiefly  known  as  individuality. 
The  letters  created  a  sensation  among  the  editors.  There 
was  not  much  that  was  original  or  interesting  in  Georgia 
journalism  in  that  day  and  time.  The  State  was  in  the 
hands  of  the  carpet-baggers,  and  the  newspapers  reflected 
in  a  very  large  degree  the  gloom  and  the  hopelessness  of 
that  direful  period.  The  editors  abused  the  Republicans 
in  their  editorial  columns  day  after  day,  and  made  no 
effort  to  enlarge  their  news  service,  or  to  increase  the  scope 
of*their  duties  or  their  influence.  Journalism  in  Georgia, 
in  short,  was  in  a  rut,  and  there  it  was  content  to  jog. 

Though  the  "  King  Hans  "  letters  were  the  production 
of  a  boy,  their  humor,  their  aptness,  their  illuminating 
power  (so  to  say),  their  light  touch,  and  their  suggestive- 
ness,  showed  that  a  new  star  had  arisen.  They  created  a 
lively  diversion  among  the  gloomy-minded  editors  for  a 
while,  and  then  the  procession  moved  sadly  forward  in  the 
old  ruts.  But  the  brief,  fleeting,  and  humorous  experience 
that  Mr.  Grady  had  as  the  casual  correspondent  of  the 
Constitution  decided  him.  Perhaps  this  \\as  his  bent 
after  all,  and  that  what  might  be  called  a  happy  accident 
was  merely  a  fortunate  incident  that  fate  had  arranged,  for 
to  this  beautiful  and  buoyant  nature  fate  seemed  to  be 
always  kind.  Into  his  short  life  it  crowded  its  best  and 
dearest  gifts.  All  manner  of  happiness  was  his — the  hap- 


24  TIKNKY    W.    <;KAPY, 

piness  of  loving  and  of  being  beloved — the  happiness  of 
doiii.tr  good  in  directions  fliaf  only  the  Recording  A: 
could  follow — and  before  he  died  Faun'  came  and  laid  a 
wreath  of  flowers  at  his  feet.  Fate  or  circumstance  cur- 
ried him  into  journalism.  His  "King  Hans"  letters  had 
attracted  attention  to  him,  and  it  s--«-nic<l  natural  that  he 
should  follow  this  humorous  experiment  into  a  more  seri- 
ous field. 

He  went  to  Rome  not  long  afterwards,  and  became 
editor  of  the  Rome  Courier.  The  Courier  was  the 
oldest  paper  in  the  city,  and  therefore  the  most  substan- 
tial. It  was,  in  fact,  a  fine  piece  of  property.  But  the 
town  was  a  growing  town,  and  the  Courier  had  rivals,  the 
Rome  Daily,  if  my  memory  serves  me,  and  the  Rome  ('<>///- 
mercial.  Just  how  long  Mr.  Grady  edited  the  Co////V/\  1 
have  no  record  of ;  but  one  fine  morning,  he  thouglit  he 
discovered  a  "ring"  of  some  sort  in  the  village.  I  do  not 
know  whether  it.  was  a  political  or  a  financial  ring.  \\V 
have  had  so  many  of  these  rings  in  one  shape  or  another 
that  I  will  not  trust  my  memory  to  describe  it ;  but  it  was 
a  ring,  and  probably  one  of  the  first  that  dared  to  en^ 
in  business.  Mr.  Grady  wrote  a  fine  editorial  denouncing 
it,  but  when  the  article  was  submitted  to  the  proprietor, 
he  made  some  objection.  He  probably  thought  that  some 
of  his  patrons  would  take  offense  at  the  strong  langu a ;•.•«• 
Mr.  Grady  had  used.  After  some  conversation  on  the  sub- 
ject, the  proprietor  of  the  Courier  flatly  objected  to  tin- 
appearance  of  the  editorial  in  his  paper.  Mr.  Grady  was 
about  eighteen  years  old  then,  with  views  and  a  little 
money  of  his  own.  In  the  course  of  a  few  hours  he  had 
bought  out  the,  two  opposing  papers,  consolidated  them, 
and  his  editorial  attack  on  the  ring  appeared  the  next 
morning  in  the  Rome  Da  if//  ( 'om/iK-rdal.  It  happened  on 
the  same  morning  that  the  two  papers,  the  <?<nirii  r  and  the 

Do!/ 1/  (!<,iitnt<-i-('i(il.  both  appeared  with  the  nan f  Henry 

\V.  Grady  as  editor.  The  ring,  or  whatever  it  was,  was 
smashed.  Nobody  heard  anything  more  of  it,  and  (he 
Commercial  was  greeted  by  its  esteemed  contemporari' 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPKKriiKS.  25 

a  most  welcome  addition  to  Georgia  journalism.  It  was 
bright  and  lively,  and  gave  Rome  a  new  vision  of  herself. 

It  was  left  to  the  Commercial  to  discover  that  Rome  was 
a  city  set  on  the  hills,  and  that  she  ought  to  have  an  adver- 
tising torch  in  her  hands.  The  Commercial,  however,  was 
only  an  experiment.  It  was  run,  as  Mr.  Grady  told  me 
long  afterwards,  as  an  amateur  casual.  He  had  money  to 
spend  on  it,  and  he  gave  it  a  long  string  to  go  on.  Occa- 
sionally he  would  fill  it  up  with  his  bright  fancies,  and  then 
he  would  neglect  it  for  days  at  a  time,  and  it  would  then  be 
edited  by  the  foreman.  It  was  about  this  time  that  I  met  Mr. 
Grady.  We  had  had  some  correspondence.  He  was  appre- 
ciative, and  whatever  struck  his  fancy  he  had  a  quick 
response  for.  Some  foolish  paragraph  of  mine  had 
appealed  to  his  sense  of  humor,  and  he  pursued  the  matter 
with 'a  sympathetic  letter  that  made  a  lasting  impression. 
The  result  of  that  letter  was  that  I  went  to  Rome,  pulled 
him  from  his  flying  ponies,  and  had  a  most  enjoyable  visit. 
From  Rome  we  went  to  Lookout  Mountain,  and  it  is  need- 
less to  say  that  he  was  the  life  of  the  party.  He  was  its 
body,  its  spirit,  and  its  essence.  We  found,  in  our  journey, 
a  dissipated  person  who  could  play  on  the  zither.  Just 
how  important  that  person  became,  those  who  remember 
Mr.  Grady' s  pranks  can  imagine.  The  man  with  the  zither 
took  the  shape  of  a  minstrel,  and  in  that  guise  he  went 
with  us,  always  prepared  to  make  music,  which  he  had 
often  to  do  in  response  to  Mr.  Grady' s  demands. 

Rome,  however,  soon  ceased  to  be  large  enough  for  the 
young  editor.  Atlanta  seemed  to  offer  the  widest  field, 
and  he  came  here,  and  entered  into  partnership  with  Col- 
onel Robert  A.  Alston  and  Alex  St.  Clair-Abrams.  It  was 
a  queer  partnership,  but  there  was  much  that  was  congenial 
about  it.  Colonel  Alston  was  a  typical  South  Carolinian, 
and  Abrams  was  a  Creole.  It  would  be  difficult  to  get 
together  three  more  impulsive  and  enterprising  partners. 
Little  attention  was  paid  to  the  business  office.  The  prin- 
cipal idea  was  to  print  the  best  newspaper  in  (he  South, 
and  for  a  time  this  scheme  was  carried  out  in  a  magnificent 


26  HI;\I:Y   \v.  OKAHY, 

way  iliat  could  not  la*t.  Mr.  (Jrady  never  bothered  him- 
self about  the  linances,  and  Hie  other  editors  were  not 
familiar  with  the  details  of  business.  The  paper  th«-\  pub- 
lished  attracted  more  attention  from  newspaper  men  than 
it  did  from  the  pul)lic,  and  it  was  finally  compelled  to  sus- 
pend. Its  good  will — and  it  had  more  good  will  than  capi- 
tal—was sold  to  the  Constitution,  which  had  been  man: 
in  a  more  conservative  style.  It  is  an  interesting  fact, 
however,  that  Mr.  Grady's  experiments  in  the  Iferttff/, 
which  were  failures,  were  successful  when  tried  on  the 
Constitution,  whose  staff  he  joined  when  Captain  Evan 
P.  ilowell  secured  a  controlling  interest.  And  yet  Mr. 
Grady's  development  as  a  newspaper  man  was  not  as 
rapid  as  might  be  supposed.  He  was  employed  by  the 
Constitution  as  a  reporter,  and  his  work  was  intermittent. 
One  fact  was  fully  developed  by  Mr.  Grady's  earlywork 
on  the  Constitution, — namely,  that  he  was  not  fitted  for 
the  routine  work  of  a  reporter.  One  day  he  would  fill  sev- 
eral columns  of  the  paper  with  his  bright  things,  and  then 
for  several  days  he  would  stand  around  in  the  sunshine 
talking  to  his  friends,  and  entertaining  them  with  his  racy 
sayings.  I  have  seen  it  stated  in  various  shapes  in  books 
and  magazines  that  the  art  of  conversation  is  dead.  If  it 
was  dead  before  Mr.  Grady  was  born,  it  was  left  to  him  to 
resurrect  it.  Charming  as  his  pen  was,  it  could  bear  no 
reasonable  comparison  with  his  tongue.  I  am  not  alluding 
here  to  his  eloquence,  but  to  his  ordinary  conversation. 
AY  lieu  he  had  the  incentive  of  sympathetic  friends  and 
surroundings,  he  was  the  most  fascinating  talker  I  have 
ever  heard.  General  Toombs  had  large  gifts  in  that 
direction,  but  he  bore  no  comparison  in  any  respect  to 
Mi-.  Grady,  whose  mind  was  responsive  to  all  sugges- 
tions and  to  all  subjects.  The  men  who  have  made 
reputations  as  talkers  have  had  the  habit  of  select  in, ir 
their  own  subjects  and  treating  them  dogmatically.  We 
read  of  Coleridge  buttonholing  an  acquaintance  and  talk- 
ing him  to  death  on  the  street,  and  of  Tarlyle  compelling 
himself  to  be  heard  by  sheer  vociferoiisness.  Mr.  Grady 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  27 

could  have  made  the  monologue  as  interesting  as  he  did 
his  orations,  but  this  was  not  his  way.  What  he  did  was 
to  take  up  whatever  commonplace  subject  was  suggested, 
and  so  charge  it  with  his  nimble  wit  and  brilliant  imagi- 
nation as  to  give  it  a  new  importance. 

It  was  natural,  under  the  circunislances,  that  his  home 
in  Atlanta  should  be  the  center  of  the  social  life  of  the  city. 
He  kept  open  house,  and,  aided  by  his  lovely  wife  and  two 
beautiful  children,  dispensed  the  most  charming  hospitality. 
There  was  nothing  more  delightful  than  his  home-life. 
Whatever  air  or  attitude  he  had  to  assume  in  business,  at 
home  he  was  a  rollicking  and  romping  boy.  He  put  aside  all 
dignity  there,  and  his  most  distinguished  guest  was  never 
distinguished  enough  to  put  on  the  airs  of  formality  that 
are  commonly  supposed  to  be  a  part  of  social  life.  His 
home  was  a  typical  one, — the  center  of  his  affections  and 
the  fountain  of  all  his  joys — and  he  managed  to  make  all 
his  friends  feel  what  a  sacred  place  it  was.  It  was  the 
headquarters  of  all  that  is  best  and  brightest  in  the  social 
and  intellectual  life  of  Atlanta,  and  many  of  the  most  dis- 
tinguished men  of  the  country  have  enjoyed  the  dispensa- 
tion of  his  hospitality,  which  was  simple  and  homelike, 
having  about  it  something  of  the  flavor  and  ripeness  of  the 
old  Southern  life. 

In  writing  of  the  life  and  career  of  a  man  as  busy  in  so 
many  directions  as  Mr.  Grady,  one  finds  it  difficult  to 
pursue  the  ordinary  methods  of  biographical  writing.  One 
finds  it  necessary,  in  order  to  give  a  clear  idea  of  his 
methods,  which  were  his  own  in  all  respects,  to  be  contin- 
ually harking  back  to  some  earlier  period  of  his  career.  I 
have  alluded  to  his  distaste  for  the  routine  of  ivportorial 
work.  The  daily  grind — the  treadmill  of  trivial  affairs- 
was  not  attractive  to  him  ;  but  when  there  was  a  sensation 
in  the  air — when  something  of  unusual  importance  was 
happening  or  about  to  happen — he  was  in  his  element.  His 
energy  at  such  times  was  phenomenal.  He  had  the  faculty 
of  grasping  :i^  "10  (l<'lails  <>f  ;in  event,  and  the  imntrinntion 
to  group  them  properly  so  as  to  give  them  their  full  force 


28  HKNKY   w.   <;I:AI»Y, 

and  effect.  The  result  of  this  is  shown  very  clearly  in  his 
ti-li'grams  to  th<>  X«.-w  York  Herald  and  the  Constitution 
from  Florida  during  the  disputed  count  going  on  there  in 
is?<;  and  the  early  part  of  1877.  Mr.  Tilden  selected  Sena- 
tor Joseph  E.  Brown,  among  other  prominent  Democrats, 
i"  proceed  to  Florida,  and  look  after  the  Democratic  case 
t  ln'i v.  M  r.  Grady  went  as  the  special  correspondent  of  the 
Xc\v  York  Herald  and  the  Atlanta  Constitution,  and 
though  he  had  for  his  competitors  some  of  the  most  famous 
special  writers  of  the  country,  he  easily  led  them  all  in  the 
brilliancy  of  his  style,  in  the  character  of  his  work,  and  in 
liis  knack  of  grouping  together  gossip  and  fact.  He  was 
always  proud  of  his  work  there  ;  he  was  on  his  mettle,  as 
the  saying  is,  and  I  think  there  is  no  question  that,  from  a 
journalist's  point  of  view,  his  letters  and  telegrams,  cover- 
ing the  history  of  what  is  known  politically  as  the  Florida 
fraud,  have  no  equal  in  the  newspajjer  literature  of  the  day. 
There  is  no  phase  of  that  important  case  that  his  reports 
do  not  cover,  and  they  represent  a  vast  amount  of  rapid 
and  accurate  work — work  in  which  the  individuality  of  the 
man  is  as  prominent  as  his  accuracy  and  impartiality.  One 
of  the  results  of  Mr.  Grady' s  visit  to  Florida,  and  his  asso- 
ciation with  the  prominent  politicians  gathered  there,  was 
to  develop  a  confidence  in  his  own  powers  and  resources 
that  was  exceedingly  valuable  to  him  when  he  came  after- 
wards to  the  management  of  the  leading  daily  paper  in  the 
South.  He  discovered  that  the  men  who  had  been  success- 
ful in  business  and  in  politics  had  no  advantage  over  him 
in  any  of  the  mental  qualities  and  attributes  that  appertain 
to  success,  and  this  discovery  gave  purpose  and  determina- 
tion to  his  ambition. 

Another  fruitful  fact  in  his  career,  which  he  used 
to  dwell  on  with  great  pleasure,  was  his  association  while 
in  Florida  with  Senator  Brown — an  association  that 
amounted  to  intimacy.  Mr.  Grady  always  had  a  very 
great  admiration  for  Senator  Brown,  but  in  Florida  he  had 
<h<'  opportunity  of  working  side  by  sid<>  with  the  Sen- 
ator and  of  studying  the  methods  by  which  he  managed 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  29 

men  and  brought  them  within  the  circle  of  his  powerful 
influence.  Mr.  Grady  often  said  that  it  was  one  of  the 
most  instructive  lessons  of  his  life  to  observe  the  influence 
which  Senator  Brown,  feeble  as  he  was  in  body,  exerted  on 
men  who  were  almost  total  strangers.  The  contest  between 
the  politicians  for  the  electoral  vote  of  Florida  was  in  the 
nature  of  a  still  hunt,  where  prudence,  judgment,  skill, 
and  large  knowledge  of  human  nature  were  absolutely 
essential.  In  such  a  contest  as  this,  Senator  Brown  was 
absolutely  master  of  the  situation,  and  Mr.  Grady  took 
great  delight  in  studying  his  methods,  and  in  describing 
them  afterwards. 

Busy  as  Mr.  Grady  was  in  Florida  with  the  politicians 
and  with  his  newspaper  correspondence,  he  nevertheless 
found  time  to  make  an  exhaustive  study  of  the  material 
resources  of  the  State,  and  the  result  of  this  appeared  in 
the  columns  of  the  Constitution  at  a  later  date  in  the  shape 
of  a  series  of  letters  that  attracted  •  unusual  attention 
throughout  the  country.  This  subject,  the  material 
resources  of  the  South,  and  the  development  of  the  sec- 
tion, was  always  a  favorite  one  with  Mr.  Grady.  He 
touched  it  freely  from  every  side  and  point  of  view,  and 
made  a  feature  of  it  in  his  newspaper  work.  To  his  mind 
there  was  something  more  practical  in  this  direction  than 
in  the  heat  and  fury  of  partisan  politics.  Whatever  would 
aid  the  South  in  a  material  way,  develop  her  resources  and 
add  to  her  capital,  population,  and  industries,  found  in 
him  not  only  a  ready,  but  an  enthusiastic  and  a  tireless 
champion.  He  took  great  interest  in  politics,  too,  and 
often  made  his  genius  for  the  management  of  men  and 
issues  felt  in  the  affairs  of  the  State ;  but  the  routine  of 
politics — the  discussion  that  goes  on,  like  Tennyson's 
brook,  forever  and  forever — were  of  far  less  importance  in 
his  mind  than  the  practical  development  of  the  South. 
This  seemed  to  be  the  burthen  of  his  speeches,  as  it  was  of 
all  his  later  writings.  He  never  tired  of  this  subject,  and 
he  discussed  it  with  a  brilliancy,  a  fervor,  a  versatility,  and 
a  fluency  marvelous  enough  to  have  made  the  reputation  of 


30  II  KNKY    W.    GRADY, 

half  a  dozen  men.  Out  of  liis  contemplation  of  it  grew  the 
loi'iy  an. I  patriotic  purpose  which  drew  attention  to  his 
wonderful  eloquence,  and  made  him  famous  throughout 
the  country — the  purpose  to  draw  the  two  sections  together 
in  closer  bonds  of  union,  fraternity,  harmony,  and  good- 
will. The  real  strength  and  symmetry  of  his  career  can 
only  he  properly  appreciated  l>y  those  who  take  into  con- 
sideration the  unselfishness  with  which  he  devoted  himself 
to  this  patriotic  purpose.  Instinctively  t  lie  country  seeme<  I 
to  understand  something  of  this,  and  it  was  this  instinct- 
ive understanding  that  caused  him  to  be  regarded  with 
atl'ectionate  interest  and  appreciation  from  one  end  of  the 
country  to  the  other  by  people  of  all  parties,  classes,  and 
interests.  It  was  this  instinctive  understanding  that  made 
him  at  the  close  of  his  brief  career  one  of  the  most  conspic- 
uous Americans  of  modern  times,  and  threw  the  whole 
country  into  mourning  at  his  death. 

III. 

When  in  1880  Mr.  Grady  bought  a  fourth  interest  in  the 
Constitution^  he  gave  up,  for  the  most  part,  all  outside 
newspaper  work,  and  proceeded  to  devote  his  time  and 
attention  to  his  duties  as  managing  editor,  for  which  he 
was  peculiarly  well  fitted.  His  methods  were  entirely  his 
own.  He  borrowed  from  no  one.  Every  movement  lie 
made  in  the  field  of  journalism  was  stamped  with  the  seal 
of  his  genius.  He  followed  no  precedent.  He  provided 
for  every  emergency  as  it  arose,  and  some  of  his  strokes  of 
enterprise  were  as  bold  as  they  were  startling.  He  had  a, 
rapid  faculty  of  organization.  This  was  shown  on  one 
occasion  when  he  determined  to  print  official  reports  of  the 
returns  of  the  congressional  election  in  the  seventh  Georgia 
district.  Great  interest  was  felt  in  the, result  all  over  the 
»Sla!<».  An  independent  candidate  was  running  against  the 
Democratic  nominee,  and  the  campaign  was  one  of  the  live- 
15- -st  ever  had  in  Georgia.  Yet  it  is  a  district  that  lies 
in  the  mountains  and  winds  around  and'  over  them. 
Ordinarily,  it  was  sometimes  a  fortnight  and  frequently  a 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  31 

month  before  the  waiting  newspapers  and  the  public  knew 
the  official  returns.  Mr.  Grady  arranged  for  couriers  with 
relays  of  horses  at  all  the  remote  precincts,  and  the  majority 
of  them  are  remote  from  the  lines  of  communication,  arid 
his  orders  to  these  were  to  spare  neither  horse-flesh  nor 
money  in  getting  the  returns  to  the  telegraph  stations.  At 
important  points,  he  had  placed  members  of  the  Constitu- 
tion1 s  editorial  and  reportorial  staff,  who  were  to  give  the 
night  couriers  the  assistance  and  directions  which  their 
interest  and  training  would  suggest.  It  was  a  tough  piece 
of  work,  but  all  the  details  and  plans  had  been  so  perfectly 
arranged  that  there  was  no  miscarriage  anywhere.  One  of 
the  couriers  rode  forty  miles  over  the  mountains,  fording 
rushing  streams  and  galloping  wildly  over  the  rough  roads. 
It  was  a  rough  job,  but  he  had  been  selected  by  Mr.  Grady 
especially  for  this  piece  of  work  ;  he  was  a  tough  man  and 
he  had  tough  horses  under  him,  and  he  reached  the  tele- 
graph station  on  time.  This  sort  of  thing  was  going  on  all 
over  the  district,  and  the  next  morning  the  whole  State 
had  the  official  returns.  Other  feats  of  modern  newspaper 
enterprise  have  been  more  costly  and  as  successful,  but 
there  is  none  that  I  can  recall  to  mind  showing  a  more 
comprehensive  grasp  of  the  situation  or  betraying  a  more 
daring  spirit.  It  was  a  feat  that  appealed  to  the  imagina- 
tion, and  therefore  on  the  Napoleonic  order. 

And  yet  it  is  a  singular  fact  that  all  his  early  journal- 
istic ventures  were  in  the  nature  of  failures.  The  Rome 
Commercial,  which  he  edited  before  he  had  attained  his 
majority,  was  a  bright  paper,  but  not  financially  success- 
ful. Mr.  Grady  did  some  remarkably  bold  and  brilliant 
work  on  the  Atlanta  Daily  Herald,  but  it  was  expensive 
work,  too,  and  the  Herald  died  for  lack  of  funds.  Mr. 
Marion  J.  Verdery,  in  his  admirable  memorial  of  Mr. 
Grady,  prepared  for  the  Southern  Society  of  New  York 
(which  I  have  taken  the  liberty  of  embodying  in  this  vol- 
ume) alludes  to  these  failures  of  Mr.  Grady,  and  a  great 
many  of  his  admirers  have  been  mystified  by  them.  I 
think  the  explanation  is  very  simple.  Mr.  Grady  was  a 


32  HKXRY    W.    (.i:\DV, 

new  and  a  surprising  element  in  the  field  of  journalism,  and 
his  methods  were  beyond  the  comprehension  of  those  who 
liad  groungray  watching  the  dull  and  commonplace  politi- 
cians wielding  thrir  heavy  pens  as  editors,  and  getting  the 
news  accidentally,  if  at  all.  There  are  a  great  many  people 
in  this  world  of  ours — let  us  say  the  average  people,  in 
order  to  be  mathematically  exact — who  have  to  be  edu- 
cated up  to  an  appreciation  of  what  is  bright  and  beauti- 
ful, or  bold  and  interesting.  Some  of  Mr.  Grady's  meth- 
od-- were  new  even  in  American  journalism,  and  it  is  no 
wonder  that  his  dashing  experiments  with  the  Daily  Her- 
ald were  failures,  or  that  commonplace"  people  regarded 
them  as  crude  and  reckless  manifestations  of  a  purpose 
and.  a  desire  to  create  a  sensation.  Moreover,  it  should  be 
borne  in  mind  that  when  the  Daily  Herald  was  running 
its  special  locomotives  up  and  down  the  railroads  of  the 
State,  the  field  of  journalism  in  Atlanta  was  exceedingly 
narrow  and  provincial.  The  town  had  been  rescued  from 
the  village  shape,  but  neither  its  population  nor  its  prog- 
ress warranted  the  experiments  on  the  Herald.  They  were 
mistakes  of  time  and  place,  but  they  were  not  mistakes  of 
conception  and  execution.  They  helped  to  educate  and 
enlighten  the  public,  and  to  give  that  dull,  clumsy,  and 
slow-moving  body  a  taste  of  the  spirit  and  purpose  of 
modern  journalism.  The  public  liked  the  taste  that  it  got, 
and  smacked  its  lips  over  it  and  remembered  it,  and  was 
always  ready  after  that  to  respond  promptly  to  the  efforts 
of  Mr.  Grady  to  give  it  the  work  of  his  head  and  hands. 

Bright  and  buoyant  as  he  was,  his  early  failures  in 
journalism  dazed  and  mortified  him,  but  they  did  not  leave 
him  depressed.  If  he  had  his  hours  of  depression  and 
gloom  he  reserved  them  for  himself.  Even  when  all  his 
resources  had  been  exhausted,  he  was  the  same  genial, 
witty,  and  appreciative  companion,  the  center  of  attraction 
wherever  he  went.  The  year  1876  was  the  turning-point 
in  his  career  in  more  ways  than  one.  In  the  fall  of  that 
year,  Captain  Evan  P.  Howell  bought  a  controlling  inter- 
est in  the  Constitution.  The  day  after  the  purchase  was 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND    SPEECHES.  33 

made,  Captain  Ho  well  met  Mr.  Grady,  who  was  on  his  way 
to  the  passenger  station. 

"I  was  just  hunting  for  you,"  said  Captain  Howell. 
"  I  want  to  have  a  talk  with  you." 

"  Well,  you'll  have  to  talk  mighty  fast,"  said  Mr. 
Grady.  "  Atlanta's  either  too  big  for  me,  or  I  am  too  big 
for  Atlanta." 

It  turned  out  that  the  young  editor,  discomfited  in 
Atlanta,  but  not  discouraged,  was  on  his  way  to  Augusta 
to  take  charge  of  the  Constitutionalist  of  that  city.  Cap- 
tain Howell  offered  him  a  position  at  once,  which  was 
promptly  accepted.  There  was  no  higgling  or  bargaining  ; 
the  two  men  were  intimate  friends ;  there  was  something 
congenial  in  their  humor,  in  their  temperaments,  and  in  a 
certain  fine  audacity  in  political  affairs  that  made  the  two 
men  invincible  in  Georgia  politics  from  the  day  they  began 
working  together.  Before  the  train  that  was  to  bear  Mr. 
Grady  to  Augusta  had  steamed  out  of  the  station,  he  was 
on  his  way  to  the  Constitution  office  to  enter  on  his  duties, 
and  then  and  there  practically  began  between  the  two  men 
a  partnership  as  intimate  in  its  relations  of  both  friendship 
and  business  as  it  was  important  on  its  bearings  on  the 
wonderful  success  of  the  Constitution  and  on  the  local  his- 
tory and  politics  of  Georgia.  It  was  an  ideal  partnership 
in  many  respects,  and  covered  almost  every  movement, 
with  one  exception,  that  the  two  friends  made.  That 
exception  was  the  prohibition  campaign  in  Atlanta,  that 
attracted  such  widespread  attention  throughout  the  coun- 
try. Mr.  Grady  represented  the  prohibitionists  and  Cap- 
tain Howell  the  anti-prohibitionists,  and  it  was  one  of  the 
most  vigorous  and  amusing  campaigns  the  town  has  ever 
witnessed.  Each  partner  was  the  chief  speaker  of  the  side 
he  represented,  and  neither  lost  an  opportunity  to  tell  a 
good-humored  joke  at  the  other's  expense.  Thus,  while 
the  campaign  was  an  earnest  one  in  every  respect,  and  even 
embittered  to  some  small  extent  by  the  thoughtless  utter- 
ances of  those  who  seem  to  believe  that  moral  issues  can 
best  be  settled  by  a  display  of  fanaticism,  the  tension  was 


34  IIKN'KY   AV.    GRADY, 

greatly  relieved  by  the  wit,  the  humor,  the  good  nature 
and  the  good  sense  which  the  two  leaders  injected  into  the 
canvass. 

The  sentimental  side  of  Mr.  Grady's  character  was  more 
largely  and  more  practically  developed  than  that  of  any 
other  person  I  have  ever  seen.  In  the  great  majority  of 
casi-s  sentiment  develops  into  a  sentimentality  that  is  some- 
times maudlin,  sometimes  officious,  and  frequently  offen- 
sive. In  most  people  it  develops  as  the  weakest  and  least 
attractive  side  of  their  character.  It  was  the  stronghold  of 
Mi.  Grady's  nature.  It  enveloped  his  whole  career,  to  use 
Matthew  Arnold's  phrase,  in  sweetness  and  light,  and 
made  his  life  a  real  dispensation  in  behalf  of  the  lives  of 
others.  Wherever  he  found  suffering  and  sorrow,  no  mat- 
ter how  humble — wherever  he  found  misery,  no  matter  how 
coarse  and  degraded,  he  struck  hands  with  them  then  and 
there,  and  wrapped  them  about  and  strengthened  them 
with  his  abundant  sympathy.  Until  he  could  give  them 
relief  in  some  shape,  he  became  their  partner,  and  a  very 
active  and  energetic  partner  he  was.  I  have  often  thought 
that  his  words  of  courage  and  cheer,  always  given  with  a 
light  and  humorous  touch  to  hide  his  own  feelings,  was 
worth  more  than  the  rich  man's  grudging  gift.  It  was  this 
side  of  Mr.  Grady's  nature  that  caused  him  to  turn  with 
such  readiness  to  the  festivities  of  Christmas.  He  was  a 
great  admirer  of  Charles  Dickens,  especially  of  that  writer's 
Christmas  literature.  It  was  an  ideal  season  with  Mr. 
Grady,  and  it  presented  itself  to  his  mind  less  as  a  holiday 
time  than  as  an  opportunity  to  make  others  happy — the 
rich  as  well  as  the  poor.  He  had  a  theory  that  the  rich 
who  have  become  poor  by  accident  or  misfortune  suffer  the 
stings  of  poverty  more  keenly  than  the  poor  who  have 
always  been  poor,  for  the  reason  that  they  are  not  qualified 
to  fight  against  conditions  that  are  at  once  strange  and 
crushing.  Several  Christmases  ago,  I  had  the  pleasure  of 
witnessing  a  little  episode  in  which  he  illustrated  his 
theory  to  his  own  satisfaction  as  well  as  to  mine. 

On  that  particular  Christmas  eve,  there  was  living  in 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND    SPEECHES.  3,5 

Atlanta  an  old  gentleman  who  had  at  one  time  been  one  of 
the  leading  citizens  of  ;The  town.  He  had  in  fact  been  a 
powerful  influence  in  the  politics  of  the  State,  but  the  war 
swept  away  his  possessions,  and  along  with  them  all  the 
conditions  and  surroundings  that  had  enabled  him  to  main- 
tain himself  comfortably.  His  misfortunes  came  on  him 
when  he  was  too  old  to  begin  the  struggle  with  life  anew 
with  any  reasonable  hope  of  success.  He  gave  way  to  a 
disposition  that  had  been  only  convivial  in  his  better  days 
when  he  had  hope  and  pride  to  sustain  him,  and  he  sank 
lower  until  he  had  nearly  reached  the  gutter. 

I  joined  Mr.  Grady  as  he  left  the  office,  and  we  walked 
slowly  down  the  street  enjoying  the  kaleidoscopic  view  of 
the  ever-shifting,  ever  hurrying  crowd  as  it  swept  along  the 
pavements.  In  all  that  restless  and  hastening  throng  there 
seemed  to  be  but  one  man  bent  on  no  message  of  enjoy- 
ment or  pleasure,  and  he  was  old  and  seedy-looking.  He 
was  gazing  about  him  in  an  absent-minded  way.  The 
weather  was  not  cold,  but  a  disagreeable  drizzle  was  falling. 

"Yonder  is  the  Judge,"  said  Mr.  Grady,  pointing  to 
the  seedy-looking  old  man.  "  Let's  go  and  see  what  he  is 
going  to  have  for  Christmas." 

I  found  out  long  afterwards  that  the  old  man  had  long 
been  a  pensioner  on  Mr.  Grady' s  bounty,  but  there  was 
nothing  to  suggest  this  in  the  way  in  which  the  young 
editor  approached  the  Judge.  His  manner  was  the  very 
perfection  of  cordiality  and  consideration,  though  there 
was  just  a  touch  of  gentle  humor  in  his  bright  eyes. 

"  It  isn't  too  early  to  wish  you  a  merry  Christmas,  I 
hope,"  said  Mr.  Grady,  shaking  hands  with  the  old  man. 

"  No,  no,"  replied  the  Judge,  straightening  himself  up 
with  dignity  ;  "not  at  all.  The  same  to  you,  my  boy." 

"Well,"  remarked  Mr.  Grady  lightly,  "you  ought  to 
be  fixing  up  for  it.  I'm  not  as  old  as  you  are,  and  I've  got 
lots  of  stirring  around  and  shopping  to  do  if  I  have  any  fun 
at  home." 

The  eyes  of  the  Judge  sought  the  ground.  "No.  I 
was — ah— just  considering."  Then  he  looked  up  into  the 
laughing  but  sympathetic  eyes  of  the  boyish  young  fellow, 


II KNUY    W.    GRADY, 

and  liis  diirnity  s«Mi->il>ly  ivlaxt-d.  "  I  was  only — ah — 
(Jrady,  let  me  see  you  a  moment." 

The  two  walked  to  the  edge  of  the  pavement,  and  talked 
together  some  little  time.  1  did  not  overhear  the  conver- 
sation, but  learned  afterwards  that  the  Judge  told  Mr. 
Grady  that  he  had  no  provisions  at  home,  and  no  money 
to  buy  them  with,  and  asked  for  a  small  loan. 

"  I'll  do  better  than  that,"  said  Mr.  Grady.  "I'll  go 
with  you  and  buy  them  myself.  Come  with  us,"  he  re- 
marked to  me  with  a  quizzical  smile.  "The  Judge  here 
has  found  a  family  in  distress,  and  we  are  going  to  send 
them  something  substantial  for  Christmas." 

\Ve  went  to  a  grocery  store  near  at  hand,  and  I  saw, 
as  we  entered,  that  the  Judge  had  not  only  recovered  his 
native  dignity,  but  had  added  a  little  to  suit  the  occasion. 
I  observed  that  his  bearing  was  even  haughty.  Mr.  Grady 
had  observed  it,  too,  and  the  humor  of  the  situation  so 
delighted  him  that  he  could  hardly  control  the  laughter  in 
his  voice. 

"  Now,  Judge,"  said  Mr.  Grady,  as  we  approached  the 
counter,  "  we  must  be  discreet  as  well  as  liberal.  We  must 
get  what  you  think  this  suffering  family  most  needs.  You 
call  off  the  articles,  the  clerk  here  will  check  them  off,  and 
I  will  have  them  sent  to  the  house." 

The  Judge  leaned  against  the  counter  with  a  careless 
dignity  quite  inimitable,  and  glanced  at  the  well-filled 
shelves. 

"Well,"  said  he,  thrumming  on  a  paper-box,  and 
smacking  his  lips  thoughtfully,  "we  will  put  down  first  a 
bottle  of  chow-chow  pickles." 

"  Why,  of  course,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Grady,  his  face  radi- 
ant with  mirth  ;  "  it  is  the  very  thing.  What  next  ? " 

"Let  me  see,"  said  the  Judge,  closing  his  eyes  reflec- 
tively— "two  tumblers  of  strawberry  jelly,  three  pounds  of 
mince-meat,  and  two  pounds  of  dates-,  if  you  have  real 
good  ones,  and — yes — two  cans  of  deviled  ham." 

Every  article  the  Judge  ordered  was  something  he  had 
been  used  to  in  his  happier  days.  The  whole  episode  was 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  37 

like  a  scene  from  one  of  Dickens' s  novels,  and  I  have  never 
seen  Mr.  Grady  more  delighted.  He  was  delighted  with 
the  humor  of  it,  and  appreciated  in  his  own  quaint  and 
charming  way  and  to  the  fullest  extent  the  pathos  of  it. 
He  dwelt  on  it  then  and  afterwards,  and  often  said  that  he 
envied  the  broken-down  old  man  the  enjoyment  of  the  lux- 
uries of  which  he  had  so  long  been  deprived. 

On  a  memorable  Christmas  day  not  many  years  after, 
Mr.  Grady  stirred  Atlanta  to  its  very  depths  by  his  elo- 
quent pen,  and  brought  the  whole  community  to  the 
heights  of  charity  and  unselfishness  on  which  he  always 
stood.  He  wrought  the  most  unique  manifestation  of 
prompt  and  thoughtful  benevolence  that  is  to  be  found 
recorded  in  modern  times.  The  day  before  Christmas  was 
bitter  cold,  and  the  night  fell  still  colder,  giving  promise 
of  the  coldest  weather  that  had  been  felt  in  Georgia  for 
many  years.  The  thermometer  fell  to  zero,  and  it  was  dif- 
ficult for  comfortably  clad  people  to  keep  warm  even  by 
the  fires  that  plenty  had  provided,  and  it  was  certain  that 
there  would  be  terrible  suffering  among  the  poor  of  the  city. 
The  situation  was  one  that  appealed  in  the  strongest  man- 
ner to  Mr.  Grady' s  sympathies.  It  appealed,  no  doubt,  to 
the  sympathies  of  all  charitably-disposed  people  ;  but  the 
shame  of  modern  charity  is  its  lack  of  activity.  People 
are  horrified  when  starving  people  are  found  near  their 
doors,  when  a  poor  woman  wanders  aboiit  the  streets  until 
death  comes  to  her  relief ;  they  seem  to  forget  that  it  is 
the  duty  of  charity  to  act  as  well  as  to  give.  Mr.  Grady 
was  a  man  of  action.  He  did  not  wait  for  the  organization 
of  a  relief  committee,  and  the  meeting  of  prominent  citizens 
to  devise  ways  and  means  for  dispensing  alms.  He  was 
his  own  committee.  His  plans  were  instantly  formed  and 
promptly  carried  out.  The  organization  was  complete  the 
moment  he  determined  that  the  poor  of  Atlanta  should  not 
suffer  for  lack  of  food,  clothing,  or  fuel.  He  sent  his 
reporters  out  into  the  highways  and  byways,  and  into  every 
nook  and  corner  of  the  city.  He  took  one  assignment  for 
himself,  and  went  about  through  the  cold  from  house  to 


38  IIK.NRY   \v.   M:.\I>Y, 

house.  He  had  a  consultation  with  the  Mayor  at  midnight, 
and  cases  of  actual  sull'<Tinu-  weiv  rrli.-vrd  tlu-u  and  then-. 
Thf  next  morning,  which  \\as  Sunday,  the  columns  of  the 
Constitution  teemed  with  the  results  of  tin- investigation 
which  Mr.  (Jradyand  his  reporters  liad  made'.  A  stirring 
appeal  was  made  in  the  editorial  columns  for  a  id  for  the 
poor — such  an  appeal  as  only  Mr.  (irady  could  make.  The 
plan  of  relief  was  carefully  made  out.  The  (!onstitvti»n 
was  prepared  to  take  charge  of  whatever  the  charitably 
disposed  might  feel  inclined  to  send  to  its  office — and  \\  hat- 
ever  was  sent  should  be  sent  early. 

The  effect  of  this  appeal  was  astonishing — magical,  in 
fact.  It  seemed  impossible  to  believe  that  any  human 
agency  could  bring  about  such  a  result.  By  eight  o'clock 
on  Christmas  morning — the  day  being  Sunday — the  street 
in  front  of  the  Constitution  office  was  jammed  with  wagons, 
drays,  and  vehicles  of  all  kinds,  and  the  office  itself  was 
transformed  into  a  vast  depot  of  supplies.  The  merchants 
and  business  men  had  opened  their  stores  as  well  as  their 
hearts,  and  the  coal  and  wood  dealers  had  given  the  keys 
of  their  establishments  into  the  gentle  hands  of  charity. 
Men  who  were  not  in  business  subscribed  money,  and  this 
rose  into  a  considerable  sum.  When  Mr.  Grady  arrived 
on  the  scene,  he  gave  a  shout  of  delight,  and  cut  up  antics 
as  joyous  as  those  of  a  schoolboy.  Then  he  proceeded 
to  business.  He  had  everything  in  his  head,  and  he  or- 
ganized his  relief  trains  and  put  them  in  motion  more 
rapidly  than  any  general  ever  did.  By  noon,  there  was 
not  a  man,  woman,  or  child,  white  or  black,  in  the  city 
of  Atlanta  that  lacked  any  of  the  necessaries  of  life,  and 
to  such  an  extent  had  the  hearts  of  the  people  been  stirred 
that  a  large  reserve  of  stores  was  left  over  after  everybody 
had  been  supplied.  It  was  the  happiest  Christmas  day  the 
poor  of  Atlanta  ever  saw,  and  the  happiest  person  of  all 
was  Henry  Grady. 

It  is  appropriate  to  his  enjoyment  of  Christmas  to  give 
here  a  beautiful  editorial  he  wrote  on  Christmas  day  a  year 
before  he  was  buried.  It  is  a  little  prose  poem  that 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND    SPEECHES.  39 

attracted    attention    all    over  the  country.      Mr.   Grady 
called  it 

A   PERFECT   CHRISTMAS   DAY. 

No  man  or  woman  now  living  will  see  again  such  a  Christmas  day 
as  the  one  which  closed  yesterday,  when  the  dying  sun  piled  the 
western  skies  with  gold  and  purple. 

A  winter  day  it  was,  shot  to  the  core  with  sunshine.  It  was  enchant- 
ing to  walk  abroad  in  its  prodigal  beauty,  to  breath  its  elixir,  to  reach 
out  the  hands  and  plunge  them  open-fingered  through  its  pulsing 
waves  of  warmth  and  freshness.  It  was  June  and  November  welded 
and  fused  into  a  perfect  glory  that  held  the  sunshine  and  snow  beneath 
tender  and  splendid  skies.  To  have  winnowed  such  a  day  from 
the  teeming  winter  was  to  have  found  an  odorous  peach  on  a  bough 
whipped  in  the  storms  of  winter.  One  caught  the  musk  of  yellow 
grain,  the  flavor  of  ripening  nuts,  the  fragrance  of  strawberries,  the 
exquisite  odor  of  violets,  the  aroma  of  all  seasons  in  the  wonderful  day. 
The  hum  of  bees  underrode  the  whistling  wings  of  wild  geese  flying 
southward.  The  fires  slept  in  drowsing  grates,  while  the  people,  mar- 
veling outdoors,  watched  the  soft  winds  woo  the  roses  and  the  lilies. 

Truly  it  was  a  day  of  days.  Amid  its  riotous  luxury  surely  life  was 
worth  living  to  hold  up  the  head  and  breathe  it  in  as  thirsting  men 
drink  water  ;  to  put  every  sense  on  its  gracious  excellence  ;  to  throw 
the  hands  wide  apart  and  hug  whole  armfuls  of  the  day  close  to  the 
heart,  till  the  heart  itself  is  enraptured  and  illumined.  God's  benedic- 
tion came  down  with  the  day,  slow  dropping  from  the  skies.  God's 
smile  was  its  light,  and  all  through  and  through  its  supernal  beauty 
and  stillness,  unspoken  but  appealing  to  every  heart  and  sanctifying 
every  soul,  was  His  invocation  and  promise,  "P6ace  on  earth,  good 
will  to  men." 

IV. 

Mr.  Grady  took  great  interest  in  children  and  young 
people.  It  pleased  him  beyond  measure  to  be  able  to  con- 
tribute to  their  happiness.  He  knew  all  the  boys  in  the 
Constitution  office,  and  there  is  quite  a  little  army  of  them 
employed  there  in  one  way  and  another ;  knew  all  about 
their  conditions,  their  hopes  and  their  aspirations,  nud 
knew  their  histories.  He  had  favorites  among  them,  but 
his  heart  went  out  to  all.  He  interested  himself  in  them  in 
a  thousand  little  ways  that  no  one  else  would  have  thought 
of.  He  was  never  too  busy  to  concern  himself  with  their 
affairs.  A  yc;ir  or  two  before  he  died  he  organized  a  dinner 


40  IIKNKY    W.    fJRADY, 

for  the  newsboys  and  carriers.  It  was  at  first  intended 
that  the  dinner  should  be  given  by  the  Constitution,  but 
some  of  the  prominent  people  heard  of  it,  jind  insisted  in 
making  contributions.  Then  it  was  decided  to  accept  con- 
tributions from  all  who  might  desire  to  send  anything,  and 
the  result  of  it  was  a  dinner  of  magnificent  proportions. 
The  tables  were  presided  over  by  prominent  society  ladi»-s, 
and  the  occasion  was  a  very  happy  one  in  all  respects. 

This  is  only  one  of  a  thousand  instances  in  which  Mr. 
Grady  interested  himself  in  behalf  of  young  people. 
Wherever  he  could  find  boys  who  were  struggling  to  make 
a  living,  with  the  expectation  of  making  something  of 
themselves  ;  wherever  he  could  find  boys  who  were  giving 
their  earnings  to  widowed  mothers — and  he  found  hun- 
dreds of  them — he  went  to  their  aid  as  promptly  and  as 
effectually  as  he  carried  out  all  his  schemes,  whether  great 
or  small.  It  was  his  delight  to  give  pleasure  to  all  the 
children  that  he  knew,  and  even  those  he  didn't  know.  He 
had  the  spirit  and  the  manner  of  a  boy,  when  not  engrossed 
in  work,  and  he  enjoyed  life  with  the  zest  and  enthusiasm 
of  a  lad  of  twelve.  He  was  in  his  element  when  a  circus 
was  in  town,  and  it  was  a  familiar  and  an  entertaining 
sight  to  see  him  heading  a  procession  of  children — some- 
times fifty  in  line — going  to  the  big  tents  to  see  the  animals 
and  witness  the  antics  of  the  clowns.  At  such  times,  he 
considered  himself  on  a  frolic,  and  laid  his  dignity  on  the 
shelf.  His  interest  in  the  young,  however,  took  a  more 
serious  shape,  as  I  have  said.  When  Mr.  Clark  Howell, 
the  son  of  Captain  Evan  Howell,  attained  his  majority,  Mr. 
Grady  wrote  him  a  letter,  which  I  give  here  as  one  of  the 
keys  to  the  character  of  this  many-sided  man.  Apart  from 
this,  it  is  worth  putting  in  print  for  the  wholesome  advice 
it  contains.  The  young  man  to  whom  it  was  written  has 
succeeded  Mr.  Grady  as  managing  editor  of  the  Constitu- 
tion. The  letter  is  as  follows  : 

ATLANTA,  GA.,  Sept.  20,  1884. 

MY  DEAR  CLARK: — I  suppose  that  just  about  the  time  I  write  this 
to  you — a  little  after  midnight — you  are  twenty-one  years  old.  If  you 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND    SPEECHES.  41 

were  born  a  little  later  than  this  hour  it  is  your  mother's  fault  (or  your 
father's),  and  I  am  not  to  blame  for  it.  I  assume,  therefore,  that  this  is 
your  birthday,  and  I  send  you  a  small  remembrance.  I  send  you  a 
pen  (that  you  may  wear  as  a  cravat-pin)  for  several  reasons.  In  the 
first  place,  I  have  no  money,  my  dear  boy,  with  which  to  buy  you 
something  new.  In  the  next  place,  it  is  the  symbol  of  the  profession 
to  which  we  both  belong,  in  which  each  has  done  some  good  work,  and 
will,  God  being  willing,  do  much  more.  Take  the  pen,  wear  it,  and 
let  it  stand  as  a  sign  of  the  affection  I  have  for  you. 

Somehow  or  other  (as  the  present  is  a  right  neat  one  I  have  the  right 
to  bore  you  a  little)  I  look  upon  you  as  my  own  boy.  My  son  will  be 
just  about  your  age  when  you  are  about  mine,  and  he  will  enter  the 
paper  when  you  are  about  where  I  am.  I  have  got  to  looking  at  you 
as  a  sort  of  prefiguring  of  what  my  son  may  be,  and  of  looking  over 
you,  and  rejoicing  in  your  success,  as  I  shall  want  you  to  feel  toward 
him.  Let  me  write  to  you  what  I  would  be  willing  for  you  to  write  to 
him. 

Never  Gamble.  Of  all  the  vices  that  enthrall  men,  this  is  the  worst, 
the  strongest,  and  the  most  insidious.  Outside  of  the  morality  of  it,  it 
is  the  poorest  investment,  the  poorest  business,  and  the  poorest  fun. 
No  man  is  safe  who  plays  at  all.  It  is  easiest  never  to  play.  I  never 
knew  a  man,  a  gentleman  and  man  of  business,  who  did  not  regret  the 
time  and  money  he  had  wasted  in  it.  A  man  who  plays  poker  is  unfit 
for  every  other  business  on  earth. 

Never  Drink.  I  love  liquor  and  I  love  the  fellowship  involved  in 
drinking.  My  safety  has  been  that  I  never  drink  at  all.  It  is  much 
easier  not  to  drink  at  all  than  to  drink  a  little.  If  I  had  to  attribute 
what  I  have  done  in  life  to  any  one  thing,  I  should  attribute  it  to  the 
fact  that  I  am  a  teetotaler.  As  sure  as  you  are  born,  it  is  the  pleasant- 
est,  the  easiest,  and  the  safest  way. 

Marry  Early.  There  is  nothing  that  steadies  a  young  fellow  like 
marrying  a  good  girl  and  i-aising  a  family.  By  marrying  young  your 
children  grow  up  when  they  are  a  pleasure  to  you.  You  feel  the 
responsibility  of  life,  the  sweetness  of  life,  and  you  avoid  bad  habits. 

If  you  never  drink,  never  gamble,  and  marry  early,  there  is  no 
limit  to  the  useful  and  distinguished  life  you  may  live.  You  will  be 
the  pride  of  your  father's  heart,  and  the  joy  of  your  mother's. 

I  don't  know  that  there  is  any  happiness  on  earth  worth  having 
outside  of  the  happiness  of  knowing  that  you  have  done  your  duty  and 
that  you  have  tried  to  do  good.  You  try  to  build  up, — there  are 
always  plenty  others  who  will  do  all  the  tearing  down  that  is  neces- 
sary. You  try  to  live  in  the  sunshine, — men  who  stay  in  the  shade 
always  get  mildewed. 

I  will  not  tell  you  how  much  I  think  of  you  or  how  proud  I  am  of 


42  II  KNKY    \V.    fJUADT, 

you.  We  will  let  that  develop  gradually.  There  is  only  one  thing  I 
am  a  little  disappointed  in.  You  don't  seem  to  care  quite  enough 
about  base-ball  and  other  sports.  Don't  make  the  mistake  of  standing 
aloof  from  these  things  and  trying  to  get  old  too  soon.  Don't  under- 
rate out-door  athletic  sports  as  an  element  of  American  civilization  and 
American  journalism.  I  am  afraid  you  inherit  this  disposition  from 
your  father,  who  has  never  been  quite  right,  on  this  suhjcct,  but  who  is 
getting  better,  and  will  soon  be  all  right,  I  think. 

Well,  I  will  quit.  May  God  bless  you,  my  boy,  and  keep  you 
happy  and  wholesome  at  heart,  and  in  health.  If  He  does  this,  we'll 
try  and  do  the  rest. 

Your  friend,  H.  W.  GRADY. 

Mr.  Grady's  own  boyishness  led  him  to  sympathize  with 
everything  that  appertains  to  boyhood.  His  love  for  his 
own  children  led  him  to  take  an  interest  in  other  children. 
He  wanted  to  see  them  enjoy  themselves  in  a  boisterous, 
hearty,  health-giving  way.  The  sports  that  men  forget 
or  forego  possessed  a  freshness  for  him  that  he  never  tried 
to  conceal.  His  remarks,  in  the  letter  just  quoted,  in  regard 
to  out-door  sports,  are  thoroughly  characteristic.  In  all 
contests  of  muscle,  strength,  endurance  and  skill  he  took  a 
continual  and  an  absorbing  interest.  At  school  he  excelled 
in  all  athletic  sports  and  out-door  games.  He  had  a  gym- 
nasium of  his  own,  which  was  thrown  open  to  his  school- 
mates, and  there  he  used  to  practice  for  hours  at  a  time. 
His  tastes  in  this  direction  led  a  great  many  people,  all 
his  friends,  to  shake  their  heads  a  little,  especially  as  he 
was  not  greatly  distinguished  for  scholarship,  either  at 
school  or  college.  They  wondered,  too,  how,  after  neglect- 
ing the  text-books,  he  could  stand  so  near  the  head  of  his 
classes.  He  did  not  neglect  his  books.  During  the  short 
time  he  devoted  to  them  each  day,  his  prodigious  memory 
and  his  wonderful  powers  of  assimilation  enabled  him  to 
master  their  contents  as  thoroughly  as  boys  that  had  spent 
half  the  night  in  study.  Even  his  family  were  astonished 
at  his  standing  in  school,  knowing  how  little  time  he 
devoted  to  his  text-books.  He  found  time,  however,  in 
spite  of  his  devotion  to  out-door  sports  and  athletic  exer- 
cises, to  read  every  book  in  Athens,  and  in  those  days 
every  family  in  town  had  a  library  of  more  or  less  value. 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  43 

He  had  a  large  library  of  his  own,  and,  by  exchang- 
ing his  books  with  other  boys  and  borrowing,  he  man- 
aged to  get  at  the  pith  and  marrow  of  all  the  English 
literature  to  be  found  in  the  university  town.  Not  content 
with  this,  he  became,  during  one  of  his  vacation  periods,  a 
clerk  in  the  only  bookstore  in  Athens.  The  only  compen- 
sation that  he  asked  was  the  privilege  of  reading  when 
there  were  no  customers  to  be  waited  on.  This  was'  during 
his  eleventh  year,  and  by  the  time  he  was  twelve  he  was 
by  far  the  best-read  boy  that  Athens  had  ever  known. 
This  habit  of  reading  he  kept  up  to  the  day  of  his  death. 
He  read  all  the  new  books  as  they  came  out,  and  nothing 
pleased  him  better  than  to  discuss  them  with  some  conge- 
nial friend.  He  had  no  need  to  re-read  his  old  favorites— 
the  books  he  loved  as  boy  and  man — for  these  he  could 
remember  almost  chapter  by  chapter.  He  read  with  amaz- 
ing rapidity  ;  it  might  be  said  that  he  literally  absorbed 
whatever  interested  him,  and  his  symphathies  were  so  wide 
and  his  taste  so  catholic  that  it  was  a  poor  writer  indeed 
in  whom  he  could  not  find  something  to  commend.  He 
was  fond  of  light  literature,  but  the  average  modern  novel 
made  no  impression  on  him.  He  enjoyed  it  to  some  extent, 
and  was  amazed  as  well  as  amused  at  the  immense  amount 
of  labor  expended  on  the  trivial  affairs  of  life  by  the  writers 
who  call  themselves  realists.  He  was  somewhat  interested 
in  Henry  James's  "  Portrait  of  a  Lady,"  mainly,  I  suspect, 
because  it  so  cleverly  hits  off  the  character  of  the  modern 
female  newspaper  correspondent  in  the  person  of  Miss 
Henrietta  Stackpole.  Yet  there  was  much  in  the  book  that 
interested  him — the  dreariness  of  parts  of  it  was  relieved 
by  Mrs.  Touchett.  "Dear  old  Mrs.  Touchett !  "  he  used 
to  say.  ' "  Such  immense  cleverness  as  hers  does  credit  to 
Mr.  James.  She  refuses  to  associate  with  any  of  the 
other  characters  in  the  book.  I  should  like  to  meet  her, 
and  shake  hands  with  her,  and  talk  the  whole  matter 
over." 

When  a  school-boy,  and  while  devouring  all  the  stories 
that  fell  in  his  way,  young  Grady  was  found  one  day  read- 


44  IIKMIY    W.    GKADY, 

ing  Blackstone.     His  brother  asked  him  if  he  thought  of 

studying  la\v.  "  No."  was  the  reply,  "but  I  think  every- 
one ought  to  read  Blackstone.  Besides,  the  book  interests 
me."  With  iht-  light  and  the  humorous  he  always  mixed 
tin-  sol  ills.  Ht>  was  fond  of  history,  and  was  intensely 
interested  in  all  the  social  questions  of  the  day.  lie  set 
uivat  store  by  the  new  literary  development  that  has  been 
going  on  in  the  South  since  the  war,  and  sought  to  promote 
it  by  every  means  in  his  power,  through  his  newspaper  and 
by  his  personal  influence.  He  looked  forward  to  the  time 
\vlit>n  the  immense  literary  field,  as  yet  untouched  in  the 
South,  would  be  as  thoroughly  worked  and  developed  as 
that  of  New  England  has  been  ;  and  he  thought  that  lliis 
development  might  reasonably  be  expected  to  follow,  if  it 
did  not  accompany,  the  progress  of  the  South  in  other 
directions.  This  idea  was  much  in  his  mind,  and  in  the 
daily  conversations  with  the  members  of  his  editorial  staff, 
he  recurred  to  it  time  and  again.  One  view  that  he  took 
of  it  was  entirely  practical,  as,  indeed,  most  of  his  views 
were.  He  thought  that  the  literature  of  the  South  ought 
to  be  developed,  not  merely  in  the  interest  of  belles-lettres, 
but  in  the  interest  of  American  history.  He  regarded  it  as 
in  some  sort  a  weapon  of  defense,  and  he  used  to  refer  in 
terms  of  the  warmest  admiration  to  the  oftentimes  uncon- 
scious, but  terribly  certain  and  effective  manner  in  which 
New  England  had  fortified  herself  by  means  of  the  literary 
*r<-iiius  of  her  sons  and  daughters.  He  perceived,  too,  that 
all  the  talk  about  a  distinctive  Southern  literature,  which 
has  been  in  vogue  among  the  contributors  of  the  Lady's 
Books  and  annuals,  was  silly  in  the  exticin.-.  He  desired 
it  to  be  provincial  in  a  large  way,  for,  in  this  country,  pro- 
vinciality is  only  another  name  for  the  patriotism  that  has 
taken  root  in  the  rural  regions,  but  his  dearest  wish  was 
that  it  should  be  purely  and  truly  American  in  its  aim  and 
tendency.  It  was  for  this  reason  that  he  was  ready  to 
welcome  any  effort  of  a  Southern  writer  that  showed  a 
spark  of  promise.  For  such  he  was  always  ready  with 
words  of  praise. 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  45 

He  was  fond,  as  I  have  said,  of  Dickens,  but  his  favorite 
novel,  above  all  others,  was  Victor  Hugo's  "Les  Misera- 
bles."  His  own  daring  imagination  fitted  somewhat  into 
the  colossal  methods  of  Hugo,  and  his  sympathies  enabled 
him  to  see  in 'the  character  of  Jean  Valjean  a  type  of  the 
pathetic  struggle  for  life  and  justice  that  is  going  on  around 
us  every  day.  Mr.  Grady  read  between  the  lines  and  saw 
beneath  the  surface,  and  he  was  profoundly  impressed 
with  the  strong  and  vital  purpose  of  Hugo's  book.  Its 
almost  ferocious  protest  against  injustice,  and  its  indignant 
arraignment  of  the  inhumanity  of  society,  stirred  him 
deeply.  Not  only  the  character  of  Jean  Valjean,  but  the 
whole  book  appealed  to  his  sense  of  the  picturesque  and 
artistic.  The  large  lines  on  which  the  book  is  cast,  the 
stupendous  nature  of  the  problem  it  presents,  the  philan- 
thropy, the  tenderness — all  these  moved  him  as  no  other 
work  of  fiction  ever  did.  Mr.  Grady' s  pen  was  too  busy  to 
concern  itself  with  matters  merely  literary.  He  rarely 
undertook  to  write  what  might  be  termed  a  literary  essay  ; 
the  affairs  of  life — the  demands  of  the  hour — the  pressure 
of  events — precluded  this ;  but  all  through  his  lectures 
and  occasional  speeches  (that  were  never  reported),  there 
are  allusions  to  Jean  Valjean,  and  to  Victor  Hugo.  I  have 
before  me  the  rough  notes  of  some  of  his  lectures,  and  in 
these  appear  more  than  once  picturesque  allusions  to 
Hugo's  hero  struggling  against  fate  and  circumstance. 

V. 

The  home  life  of  Mr.  Grady  was  peculiarly  happy.  He 
was  blessed,  in  the  first  place,  with  a  good  mother,  and  he 
never  grew  away  from  her  influence  in  the  smallest  par- 
ticular. When  his  father  was  killed  in  the  war,  his  mother 
devoted  herself  the  more  assiduously  to  the  training  of  her 
children.  She  molded  the  mind  and  character  of  her 
brilliant  son,  and  started  him  forth  on  a  career  that  has  no 
parallel  in  our  history.  To  that  mother  his  heart  always 
turned  most  tenderly.  She  had  made  his  boyhood  bright 


46  HKXRY   W.    GRADY, 

and  happy,  and  lit'  was  never  tired  of  bringing  up  recollec- 
tions of  those  wonderful  days.  On  one  occasion,  the 
Christmas  before  he  died,  he  visited  his  mother  at  the  old 
home  in  Athens.  He  returned  brimming  over  with  happi- 
ness. To  his  associates  in  the  Constitution'  office  he  told 
the  story  of  his  visit,  and  what  he  said  has  been  recorded 
by  Mrs.  Maude  Andrews  Ohl,  a  member  of  the  editorial 
staff. 

"  Well  do  I  remember,"  says  Mrs.  Ohl,  "  how  he  spent 
his  last  year's  holiday  season,  and  the  little  story  he  told 
me  of  it  as  I  sat  in  his  office  one  morning  after  New 
Year's. 

"  He  had  visited  his  mother  in  Athens  Christmas  week, 
and  he  said  :  '  I  don't  think  I  ever  felt  happier  than  when 
I  reached  the  little  home  of  my  boyhood.  I  got  there  at 
night.  She  had  saved  supper  for  me  and  she  had  remem- 
bered all  the  things  I  liked.  She  toasted  me  some  cheese  over 
the  fire.  Why,  I  hadn't  tasted  anything  like  it  since  I  put 
off  my  round  jackets.  And  then  she  had  some  home-made 
candy,  she  knew  I  used  to  love  and  bless  her  heart !  I 
just  felt  sixteen  again  as  we  sat  and  talked,  and  she  told 
me  how  she  prayed  for  me  and  thought  of  me  always,  and 
what  a  brightness  I  had  been  to  her  life,  and  how  she  heard 
me  coming  home  in  every  boy  that  whistled  along  the 
street.  When  I  went  to  bed  she  came  and  tucked  the 
covers  all  around  me  in  the  dear  old  way  that  none  but  a 
mother's  hands  know,  and  I  felt  so  happy  and  so  peaceful 
and  so  full  of  tender  love  and  tender  memories  that  I  cried 
happy,  grateful  tears  until  I  went  to  sleep.' 

"When  he  finished  his  eyes  were  full  of  tears  and  so 
were  mine.  He  brushed  his  hands  across  his  brow  swiftly 
and  said,  laughingly  :  '  Why,  what  are  you  crying  about  ? 
What  do  you  know  about  all  this  sort  of  feeling  ! ' 

"  He  never  seemed  brighter  than  on  that  day.  He  had 
received  an  ovation  of  loving  admiration  from  the  friends 
of  his  boyhood  at  his  old  home,  and  these  honors  from  the 
hearts  that  loved  him  as  a  friend  were  dearer  than  all 
others.  It  was  for  these  friends,  these  countrymen  of 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  47 

his  own,   that  his  honors  were   won    and    his   life   was 
sacrificed." 

From  the  home-life  of  his  boyhood  he  stepped  into  the 
fuller  and  richer  home-life  that  followed  his  marriage.  He 
married  the  sweetheart  of  his  early  youth,  Miss  Julia  King, 
of  Athens,  and  she  remained  his  sweetheart  to  the  last. 
The  first  pseudonym  that  he  used  in  his  contributions  to 
the  Constitution,  "King  Hans,"  was  a  fanciful  union 
of  Miss  King's  name  with  his,  and  during  his  service  in 
Florida,  long  after  he  was  married,  he  signed  his  telegrams 
"  Jule."  In  the  office  not  a  day  passed  that  he  did  not 
have  something  to  say  of  his  wife  and  children.  They 
were  never  out  of  his  thoughts,  no  matter  what  business 
occupied  his  mind.  In  his  speeches  there  are  constant 
allusions  to  his  son,  and  in  his  conversation  the  gentle-eyed 
maiden,  his  daughter,  was  always  tenderly  figuring.  His 
home-life  was  in  all  respects  an  ideal  one  ;  ideal  in  its  sur- 
roundings, in  its  influences,  and  in  its  purposes.  I  think 
that  the  very  fact  of  his  own  happiness  gave  him  a  certain 
restlessness  in  behalf  of  the  happiness  of  others.  His 
writings,  his  speeches,  his  lectures — his  whole  life,  in  fact — 
teem  with  references  to  home  happiness  and  home-con- 
tent. Over  and  over  again  he  recurs  to  these  things — 
always  with  the  same  earnestness,  always  with  the  same 
enthusiasm.  He  never  meets  a  man  on  the  street,  but  he 
wonders  if  he  has  a  happy  home — if  he  is  contented — if  he 
has  children  that  he  loves.  To  him  home  was  a  shrine  to 
be  worshiped  at — a  temple  to  be  happy  in,  no  matter  how 
humble,  or  how  near  to  the  brink  of  poverty. 

One  of  his  most  successful  lectures,  and  the  one  that  he 
thought  the  most  of,  was  entitled  "  A  Patchwork  Palace  : 
The  story  of  a  Home."  The  Patchwork  Palace  still  exists 
in  Atlanta,  and  the  man  who  built  it  is  living  in  it  to-day. 
Mr.  Grady  never  wrote  out  the  lecture,  and  all  that  can  be 
found  of  it  is  a  few  rough  and  faded  notes  scratched  on 
little  sheets  of  paper.  On  one  occasion,  however,  he  con- 
densed the  opening  of  his  lecture  for  the  purpose  of  making 
a  newspaper  sketch  of  the  whole.  It  is  unfinished,  but  the 


48  HKXRY   W.    ORADY, 

following  has  something  of  the  flavor  of  the  lecture.  He 
called  the  builder  of  the  Palace  Mr.  Mortimer  Pitts,  though 
that  is  not  his  name : 

Mr.  Mortimer  Pitts  was  a  rag-picker.  After  a  patient  study  of  the 
responsibility  that  the  statement  carries,  I  do  not  hesitate  to  say  that  lie 
K-  poorest  man  that  ever  existed.  He  lived  literally  from  hand  to 
mouth.  His  breakfast  was  a  crust  ;  his  dinner  a  question  ;  his  supper 
a  regret.  His  earthly  wealth,  beyond  the  rags  that  covered  him,  was — 
a  cow  that  I  believe  gave  both  butter-milk  and  sweet-milk — a  dog  that 
gave  neither — and  a  hand-cart  in  which  he  wheeled  his  wares  about. 
His  wife  had  a  wash-tub  that  she  held  in  her  own  title,  a  wash-board 
similarly  possessed,  and  two  chairs  that  came  to  her  as  a  dowry. 

In  opposition  to  this  poverty,  my  poor  hero  had — first,  a  name 
(Mortimer  Pitts,  Esq.)  which  his  parents,  whose  noses  were  in  the  air 
when  they  christened  him,  had  saddled  upon  him  aspiringly,  but  which 
followed  him  through  life,  his  condition  being  put  in  contrast  with  its 
rich  syllables,  as  a  sort  of  standing  sarcasm.  Second,  a  multitude  of 
tow-headed  children  with  shallow-blue  eyes.  The  rag-picker  never 
looked  above  the  tow-heads  of  his  brats,  nor  beyond  the  faded  blue  eyes 
of  his  wife.  His  world  was  very  small.  The  cricket  that  chirped 
beneath  the  hearthstone  of  the  hovel  in  which  he  might  chance  to  live, 
and  the  sunshine  that  crept  through  the  cracks,  filled  it  with  music  and 
]ight.  Trouble  only  strengthened  the  bonds  of  love  and  sympathy  thai 
held  the  little  brood  together,  and  whenever  the  Wolf  showed  his  gaunt 
form  at  the  door,  the  white  faces,  and  the  blue  eyes,  and  the  tow-heads 
only  huddled  the  closer  to  each  other,  until,  in  very  shame,  the 
intruder  would  take  himself  off. 

Mr.  Pitts  had  no  home.  With  the  restlessness  of  an  Arab  he  flitted 
from  one  part  of  the  city  to  another.  He  was  famous  for  frightening 
the  early  market-maids  by  pushing  his  white  round  face,  usually  set  in 
a  circle  of  smaller  white  round  faces,  through  the  windows  of  long- 
deserted  hovels.  Wherever  there  was  a  miserable  shell  of  a  house  that 
whistled  when  the  wind  blew,  and  wept  when  the  rain  fell,  there  you 
might  be  sure  of  finding  Mr.  Pitts  at  one  time  or  another.  I  do  not 
care  to  state  how  many  times  my  hero,  with  an  uncertain  step  and  u 
pitifully  wandering  look — his  fertile  wife,  in  remote  or  imminent  proc- 
ess of  fruitage — his  wan  and  sedate  brood  of  young  ones — his  cow,  a 
thoroughly  conscientious  creature,  who  passed  her  scanty  diet  to  milk 
to  the  woful  neglect  of  tissue — and  his  dog,  too  honest  for  any  foolish 
pride,  ambling  along  in  an  unpretending,  bench-legged  sort  of  way, — 
I  do  not  care  to  state,  I  say,  how  many  times  this  pale  and  melancholy 
procession  passed  through  the  streets,  seeking  for  a  shelter  in  which  it 
might  hide  its  wretchedness  and  ward  off  the  storms. 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  49 

During1  those  periods  of  transition,  Mr.  Pitts  was  wonderfully  low- 
spirited.  "  Even  a  bird  has  its  nest  ;  and  the  poorest  animal  has  some 
sort  of  a  hole  in  the  ground,  or  a  roost  where  it  can  go  when  it  is 
a- weary,"  he  said  to  me  once,  when  I  caught  him  fluttering  aimlessly 
out  of  a  house  which,  under  the  influence  of  a  storm,  had  spit  out  its 
western  wall,  and  dropped  its  upper  jaw  dangerously  near  to  the  back 
of  the  cow.  And  from  that  time  forth,  I  fancied  I  noticed  my  poor 
friend's  face  growing  whiter,  and  the  blue  in  his  eye  deepening,  and 
his  lips  becoming  more  tremulous  and  uncertain.  The  shuffling  figure, 
begirt  with  the  rag-picker's  bells,  and  dragging  the  wabbling  cart,  grad- 
ually bended  forward,  and  the  look  of  childish  content  was  gone  from 
his  brow,  and  a  great  dark  wrinkle  had  knotted  itself  there. 

And  now  let  me  tell  you  about  the  starting  of  the  Palace. 

One  day  in  the  springtime,  when  the  uprising  sap  ran  through  every 
fibre  of  the  forest,  and  made  the  trees  as  drunk  as  lords — when  the 
birds  were  full-throated,  and  the  air  was  woven  thick  with  their  songs 
of  love  and  praise — when  the  brooks  kissed  their  uttermost  banks,  and 
the  earth  gave  birth  to  flowers,  and  all  nature  was  elastic  and  alert,  and 
thrilled  to  the  core  with  the  ecstasy  of  the  sun's  new  courtship — a 
divine  passion  fell  like  a  spark  into  Mr.  Mortimer  Pitts 's  heart.  How 
it  ever  broke  through  the  hideous  crust  of  poverty  that  cased  the  man 
about,  I  do  not  know,  nor  shall  we  ever  know  ought  but  that  God  put 
it  there  in  his  own  gentle  way.  But  there  it  was.  It  dropped  into  the 
cold,  dead  heart  like  a  spark — and  there  it  flared  and  trembled,  and 
grew  into  a  blaze,  and  swept  through  his  soul,  and  fed  upon  its  bitter- 
ness until  the  scales  fell  off  and  the  eyes  flashed  and  sparkled,  and  the 
old  man  was  illumined  with  a  splendid  glow  like  that  which  hurries 
youth  to  its  love,  or  a  soldier  to  the  charge.  You  would  not  have 
believed  he  was  the  same  man.  You  would  have  laughed  had  you 
been  told  that  the  old  fellow,  sweltering  in  the  dust,  harnessed  like  a 
dog  to  a  cart,  and  plying  his  pick  into  the  garbage  heaps  like  a  man 
worn  down  to  the  stupidity  of  a  machine,  was  burning  and  bursting 
with  a  great  ambition — that  a  passion  as  pure  and  as  strong  as  ever 
kindled  blue  blood,  or  steeled  gentle  nerves  was  tugging  at  his  heart- 
strings. And  yet,  so  it  was.  The  rag-picker  was  filled  with  a  consum- 
ing fire — and  as  he  worked,  and  toiled,  and  starved,  his  soul  sobbed,  and 
laughed,  and  cursed,  and  prayed. 

Mr.  Pitts  wanted  a  home.  A  man  named  Napoleon  once  wanted 
universal  empire.  Mr.  Pitts  was  vastly  the  more  daring  dreamer  of 
the  two. 

I  do  not  think  he  had  ever  had  a  home.  Possibly,  away  back  beyond 
the  years  a  dim,  sweet  memory  of  a  hearthstone  and  a  gable  roof  with 
the  rain  pattering  on  it,  and  a  cupboard  and  a  clock,  and  a  deep,  still 
well,  came  to  him  like  an  echo  or  a  dream.  Be  this  as  it  may,  our 


50  H r:\iiY  w.   GKADY, 

hero,  crushed  into  (lie  vory  mud  by  poverty — upon  knees  and  hands 
beneath  his  hunli-n  lighting  like  a  beast  for  his  daily  food — shut  out 
ioexorablj  from  all  suggestion!  of  borne— embittered  by  starvation 

with  his  faculties  rimmed  down  apparently  to  the  dreary  problem  of 
today — nevertheless  did  lift  his  eyes  into  the  gray  future,  and  set  his 
soul  upon  a  home. 

This  is  a  mere  fragment — a  bare  synopsis  of  the  opening 
of  what  was  one  of  the  most  eloquent  and  pathetic  lectni-  -, 
ever  delivered  from  the  platform.  It  was  a  beautiful  M  \  I 
of  home — an  appeal,  a  eulogy — a  glimpse,  as  it  were,  of  the 
ionate  devotion  with  which  he  regarded  his  own  home. 
Here  is  another  fragment  of  the  lecture  that  follows  closely 
after  the  foregoing : 

After  a  month's  struggle,  Mr.  Pitts  purchased  the  ground  on  which 
his  home  was  to  be  built.  It  was  an  indescribable  hillside,  bordering 
on  the  precipitous.  A  friend  of  mine  remarked  that  "it  was  such  :m 
aggravating  piece  of  profanity  that  the  owner  gave  Mr.  Pitts  five  dol- 
lars to  accept  the  land  and  the  deed  to  it."  This  report  I  feel  bound  to 
correct.  Mr.  Pitts  purchased  the  land.  He  gave  three  dollars  for  it. 
The  deed  having  been  properly  recorded,  Mr.  Pitts  went  to  work.  He 
borrowed  a  shovel,  and,  perching  himself  against  his  hillside,  began 
loosenmg  the  dirt  in  front  of  him,  and  spilling  it  out  between  his  legs, 
reminding  me,  as  I  passed  daily,  of  a  giant  dirt-dauber.  At  length 
(and  not  very  long  either,  for  his  remorseless  desire  made  his  arms  fly 
like  a  madman's)  he  succeeded  in  scooping  an  apparently  flat  place  out 
of  the  hillside  and  was  ready  to  lay  the  foundation  of  his  house, 

There  was  a  lapse  of  a  month,  and  I  thought  that  my  hero's  soul  had 
failed  him — that  the  fire,  with  so  little  of  hope  to  feed  upon,  had  faded 
and  left  his  heart  full  of  ashes.  But  at  last  there  was  a  pile  of  dirty 
second-hand  lumber  placed  on  the. ground.  I  learned  on  inquiry  that 
it  was  the  remains  of  a  small  house  of  ignoble  nature  which  had  been 
left  standing  in  a  vacant  lot.  and  which  had  been  given  him  by  the 
owner.  Shortly  afterwards  there  came  some  dry  goods-boxes  ;  then 
three  or  four  old  sills;  then  a  window-frame ;  then  the  wreck  of  another 
little  house;  and  then  the  planks  of  an  abandoned  show-bill  board. 
Finally  the  house  began  to  grow.  The  sills  \\ci-c  put  together  by  Mr. 
Pitts  and  his  wife.  A  rafter  shot  up  toward  the  sky  and  stood  there, 
like  a  lone  sentinel,  for  some  days,  and  then  another  appeared,  and 
then  another,  and  then  the  fourth.  Then  Mr.  Pitts,  with  an  agility 
born  of  desperation,  swarmed  up  one  of  them,  and  began  to  lay  the 
cross-pieces.  God  must  have  commissioned  an  angel  especially  to  watch 
over  the  poor  man  and  save  his  bones,  for  nothing  short  of  a  miracle 


HIS  LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND  SPEECHES.  51 

could  have  kept  him  from  falling  while  engaged  in  the  perilous  work. 
The  frame  once  up,  he  took  the  odds  and  ends  of  planks  and  began  to 
fit  them.  The  house  grew  like  a  mosaic.  No  two  planks  were  alike  in 
size,  shape,  or  color.  Here  was  a  piece  of  a  dry-goods  box,  with  its 
rich  yellow  color,  and  a  mercantile  legend  still  painted  on  it,  sup- 
plemented by  a  dozen  pieces  of  plank ;  and  there  was  an  old  door  nailed 
up  bodily  and  fringed  around  with  bits  of  board  picked  up  at  random. 
It  was  a  rare  piece  of  patchwork,  in  which  none  of  the  pieces  were 
related  to  or  even  acquainted  with  each  other.  A  nose,  an  eye,  an  ear, 
a  mouth,  a  chin  picked  up  at  random  from  the  ugliest  people  of  a 
neighborhood,  and  put  together  in  a  face,  would  not  have  been  odder 
than  was  this  house.  The  window  was  ornamented  with  panes  of  three 
different  sizes,  and  some  were  left  without  any  glass  at  all,  as  Mr.  Pitts 
afterwards  remarked,  "to  see  through."  The  chimney  was  apiece  of 
old  pipe  that  startled  you  by  protruding  unexpectedly  through  the  wall, 
and  looked  as  if  it  were  a  wound.  The  entire  absence  of  smoke  at  the 
outer  end  of  this  chimney  led  to  a  suspicion,  justified  by  the  facts,  that 
there  was  no  stove  at  the  other  end.  The  roof,  which  Mrs.  Pitts,  with 
a  recklessness  beyond  the  annals,  mounted  herself  and  attended  to, 
was  partially  shingled  and  partially  planked,  this  diversity  being  in  the 
nature  of  a  plan,  as  Mr.  Pitts  confidentially  remarked,  "  to  try  which 
style  was  the  best." 

Such  a  pathetic  travesty  on  house-building  was  never  before  seen.  It 
started  a  smile  or  a  tear  from  every  passer-by,  as  it  reared  its  homely 
head  there,  so  patched,  uncouth,  and  poor.  And  yet  the  sun  of  Austerlitz 
never  brought  so  much  happiness  to  the  heart  of  Napoleon  as  came  to 
Mr.  Pitts,  as  he  crept  into  this  hovel,  and,  having  a  blanket  before  the 
doorless  door,  dropped  on  his  knees  and  thanked  God  that  at  last  he 
had  found  a  home. 

The  house  grew  in  a  slow  and  tedious  way.  It  ripened  with  the 
seasons.  It  budded  in  the  restless  and  rosy  spring  ;  unfolded  and 
developed  in  the  long  summer  ;  took  shape  and  fullness  in  the  brown 
autumn  ;  and  stood  ready  for  the  snows  and  frost  when  winter  had 
come.  It  represented  a  year  of  heroism,  desperation,  and  high  resolve. 
It  was  the  sum  total  of  an  ambition  that,  planted  in  the  breast  of  a  king, 
would  have  shaken  the  world. 

To  say  that  Mr.  Pitts  enjoyed  it  would  be  to  speak  but  a  little  of 
the  truth.  I  have  a  suspicion  that  the  older  children  do  not  appi-eciate 
it  as  they  should.  They  have  a  way,  when  they  see  a  stranger  examin- 
ing their  home  with  curious  and  inquiring-  eyes,  of  dodging  away  from 
the  door  shamefacedly,  and  of  reappearing  cautiously  at  the  window. 
But  Mr.  Pitts  is  proud  of  it.  There  is  no  foolishness  about  him.  He 
sits  on  his  front  piazza,  which,  I  regret  to  say,  is  simply  a  plank  resting 
on  two  barrels,  and  smokes  his  pipe  with  the  serenity  of  a  king  ;  and 


62  IIKN'RY    W.    ORADY, 

when  a  stroller  eyes  his  queer  little  home  curiously,  IK-  puts  on  the  air 
that  the  Egyptian  gentleman  (no\v  deceased)  who  built  the  pyramids 
might  have  worn  while  exhibiting  that  stupendous  work.  I  have 
watched  him  hours  at  a  time  enjoying  his  house.  I  have  seen  him 
walk  around  it  slowly,  tapping  it  critically  with  his  knife,  as  if  to 
a>.-ertain  its  state  of  ripeness,  or  pressing  its  corners  solemnly  as  if 
its  muscular  development. 


Here  ends  this  fragment—  a  delicious  bit  of  description 
that  only  seems  to  be  exaggerated  because  the  hovel  was 
seen  through  the  eyes  of  a  poet  —  of  a  poet  who  loved  all 
his  fellow-men  from  the  greatest  to  the  smallest,  and  who 
was  as  much  interested  in  the  home-making  of  Mr.  Pitts 
as  he  was  in  the  making  of  Governors  and  Senators,  a  busi- 
ness in  which  he  afterwards  became  an  adept.  From  the 
fragments  of  one  of  his  lectures,  the  title  of  which  I  am 
unable  to  give,  I  have  pieced  together  another  story  as 
characteristic  of  Mr.  Grady  as  the  Patchwork  Palace.  It 
is  curious  to  see  how  the  idea  of  home  and  of  home-happi- 
ness runs  through  it  all  : 

One  of  the  happiest  men  that  I  ever  knew  —  one  whose  serenity 
was  unassailable,  whose  cheerfulness  was  constant,  and  from  whose 
heart  a  perennial  spring  of  sympathy  and  love  bubbled  up  —  was  a 
man  against  whom  all  the  powers  of  misfortune  were  centered.  He 
belonged  to  the  tailors  —  those  cross-legged  candidates  for  consumption. 
He  was  miserably  poor.  Fly  as  fast  as  it  could  through  the  endless 
pieces  of  broadcloth,  his  hand  could  not  always  win  crusts  for  his 
children.  But  he  walked  on  and  on  ;  his  thin  white  fingers  faltered 
bravely  through  their  tasks  as  the  hours  slipped  away,  and  his  serene 
white  face  bended  forward  over  the  tedious  cloth  into  which,  stitch 
after  stitch,  he  was  working  his  life  —  and,  with  once  in  a  while  a  wist- 
ful look  at  the  gleaming  sunshine  and  the  floating  clouds,  he  breathed 
heavily  and  painfully  of  the  poisoned  air  of  his  work-room,  from  which 
a  score  of  stronger  lungs  had  sucked  all  the  oxygen.  And  when,  at 
night,  he  would  go  home,  and  find  that  there  were  just  crusts  enough 
for  the  little  ones  to  eat,  the  capricious  old  fellow  would  dream  that  he 
was  not  hungry;  and  when  pressed  to  eat  of  the  scanty  store  by  his  sad 
and  patient  wife,  would  with  an  air  of  smartness  pretend  a  sacred  lie  — 
that  he  had  dined  with  a  friend  —  and  then,  with  a  heart  that  swelled 
almost  to  bursting,  turn  away  to  hide  his  glistening  eyes.  Hungry  '( 
Of  course  he  was,  time  arid  again.  As  weak  as  his  body  was,  as  falter- 
ing as  was  the  little  fountain  that  sent  the  life-blood  from  his  heart  —  as 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND    SPEECHES.  53 

meagre  as  were  his  necessities,  I  doubt  if  there  was  a  time  in  all  the 
long  years  when  he  was  not  hungry. 

Did  you  ever  think  of  how  many  people  have  died  out  of  this  world 
through  starvation.  Thousands  !  Not  recorded  in  the  books  as  having 
died  of  starvation, — ah,  no  ?  Sometimes  it  is  a  thin  and  watery  sort  of 
apoplexy — sometimes  it  is  dyspepsia,  and  often  consumption.  These 
terms  read  better.  But  there  are  thousands  of  them,  sensitive,  shy 
gentlemen  —too  proud  to  beg  and  too  honest  to  steal — too  straightfor- 
ward to  scheme  or  maneuver — too  refined  to  fill  the  public  with  their 
griefs — too  heroic  to  whine — that  lock  their  sorrows  up  in  their  own 
hearts,  and  go  on  starving  in  silence,  weakening  day  after  day  from 
the  lack  of  proper  food — the  blood  running  slower  and  slower  through 
their  veins — their  pulse  faltering  as  they  pass  through  the  various 
stages  of  inanition,  until  at  last,  worn  out,  apathetic,  exhausted,  they 
are  struck  by  some  casual  illness,  and  lose  their  hold  upon  life  as  easily 
and  as  naturally  as  the  autumn  leaf,  juiceless,  withered  and  dry,  parts 
from  the  bough  to  which  it  has  clung,  and  floats  down  the  vast  silence 
of  the  forest. 

But  my  tailor  was  cheerful.  Nothing  could  disturb  his  serenity. 
His  thin  white  face  was  always  lit  with  a  smile,  and  his  eyes  shone  with 
a  peace  that  passed  my  understanding.  Hour  after  hour  he  would 
sing  an  asthmatic  little  song  that  came  in  wheezes  from  his  starved 
lungs — a  song  that  was  pitiful  and  cracked,  but  that  came  from  his 
heart  so  freighted  with  love  and  praise  that  it  found  the  ears  of  Him 
who  softens  all  distress  and  sweetens  all  harmonies.  I  wondered  where 
all  this  happiness  came  from.  How  gushed  this  abundant  stream  from 
this  broken  reed — how  sprung  this  luxuriant  flower  of  peace  from  the 
scant  soil  of  poverty  ?  From  these  hard  conditions,  how  came  this 
ever-fresh  felicity  ? 

After  he  had  been  turned  out  of  his  home,  the  tailor  was  taken  sick. 
His  little  song  gave  way  to  a  hectic  cough.  His  place  at  the  workroom 
was  vacant,  and  a  scanty  bed  in  wretched  lodgings  held  his  frail  and 
fevered  frame.  The  thin  fingers  clutched  the  cover  uneasily,  as  if  they 
were  restless  of  being  idle  while  the  little  ones  were  crying  for  bread. 
The  tired  man  tossed  to  and  fro,  racked  by  pain, — but  still  his  face  was 
full  of  content,  and  no  word  of  bitterness  escaped  him.  And  the  little 
song,  though  the  poor  lungs  could  not  carry  it  to  the  lips,  and  the 
trembling  lips  could  not  syllable  its  music,  still  lived  in  his  heart  and 
shone  through  his  happy  eyes.  "  I  will  be  happy  soon,"  he  said  in  a 
faltering  way  ;  "I  will  be  better  soon — strong  enough  to  go  to  work 
like  a  man  again,  for  Bessie  and  the  babies."  And  he  did  get  better — 
better  until  his  face  had  worn  so  thin  that  you  could  count  his  heart- 
beats by  the  flush  of  blood  that  came  and  died  in  his  cheeks — better 
until  his  face  had  sharpened  and  his  smiles  had  worn  their  deep  lines 


54  HI;M:Y   w.  GRADY, 

about  his  mouth— better  until  the  poor  fingers  lay  helpless  at  his  side, 
and  his  eyes  had  lost  their  brightness.  And  one  day,  as  his  wife  sat 
by  his  side,  and  the  sun  streamed  in  the  windows,  and  the  air  was  full 
of  the  fragrance  of  spring  -he  turned  li is  face  toward  her  and  said  : 
"I  am  better  now,  my  dear."  And,  noting  a  rapturous  smile  playing 
about  his  mouth,  and  a  strange  light  kindling  in  his  eyes,  sh<;  bended 
her  head  forward  to  lay  her  wifely  kiss  upon  his  face.  Ah  !  a  last  kiss, 
good  wife,  for  thy  husband  !  Thy  kiss  caught  his  soul  as  it  11  uttered 
from  his  pale  lips,  and  the  flickering  pulse  had  died  in  his  patient  wrist, 
and  the  little  song  had  faded  from  his  heart  and  gone  to  swell  a  divine 
chorus, — and  at  last,  after  years  of  waiting,  the  old  man  was  well  ! 

There  was  nothing  strained  or  artificial  in  the  sentiment 
that  led  him  to  dwell  so  constantly  on  the  theme  of  home 
and  home  happiness.  The  extracts  I  have  given  are  merely 
the  rough  lecture  notes  which  he  wrote  down  in  order  to 
confirm  and  congeal  his  ideas.  On  the  platform,  while 
following  the  current  of  these  notes,  he  injected  into  them 
the  quality  of  his  rare  and  inimitable  humor,  the  contrast 
serving  to  give  greater  strength  and  coherence  to  the  pathos 
that  underlay  it  all.  I  do  not  know  that  I  have  dwelt  with 
sufficient  emphasis  on  his  humor.  He  could  be  witty 
enough  on  occasion,  but  the  sting  of  it  seemed  to  leave  a 
bad  taste  in  his  mouth.  The  quality  of  his  humor  was  not 
greatly  different  from  that  of  Charles  Lamb.  It  was  gentle 
and  perennial — a  perpetual  wonder  and  delight  to  his 
friends — irrepressible  and  unbounded — as  antic  and  as 
tricksy  as  that  of  a  boy,  as  genial  and  as  sweet  as  the 
smile  of  a  beautiful  woman.  Mr.  Grady  depended  less  on 
anecdote  than  any  of  our  great  talkers  and  speakers,  though 
the  anecdote,  apt,  pat,  and  pointed,  was  always  ready  at 
the  proper  moment.  He  depended  rather  on  the  originality 
of  his  own  point  of  view — on  the  results  of  his  own  indi- 
viduality. The  charm  of  his  personal  presence  was  inde- 
scribable. In  every  crowd  and  on  every  occasion  he  was  a 
marked  man.  Quite  independently  of  his  own  intentions, 
he  made  his  presence  and  his  influence  felt.  AY  hat  he  said, 
no  matter  how  light  and  frivolous,  no  matter  how  trivial, 
never  failed  to  attract  attention.  He,  warmed  the  hearts  of 
the  old  and  fired  the  minds  of  the  young.  He  managed,  in 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  65 

some  way,  to  impart  something  of  the  charm  of  his  person- 
ality to  his  written  words,  so  that  he  carried  light,  and 
hope,  and  courage  to  many  hearts,  and  when  he  passed 
away,  people  who  had  never  seen  him  fell  to  weeping  when 
they  heard  of  his  untimely  death. 

VI. 

There  are  many  features  and  incidents  in  Mr.  Grady's 
life  that  cannot  be  properly  treated  in  this  hurriedly  writ- 
ten and  altogether  inadequate  sketch.  His  versatility  was 
such  that  it  would  be  difficult,  even  in  a  deliberately  writ- 
ten biography,  to  deal  with  its  manifestations  and  results 
as  they  deserve  to  be  dealt  with.  At  the  North,  the  cry  is, 
who  shall  take  his  place  as  a  peace-maker  ?  At  the  South, 
who  shall  take  his  place  as  a  leader,  as  an  orator,  and  as  a 
peace-maker  ?  In  Atlanta,  who  shall  take  his  place  as  all 
of  these,  and  as  a  builder-up  of  our  interests,  our  enter- 
prises, and  our  industries  !  Who  is  to  make  for  us  the 
happy  and  timely  suggestion  ?  Who  is  to  speak  the  right 
word  at  the  right  time  !  The  loss  the  country  has  sustained 
in  Mr.  Grady's  death  can  only  be  measurably  estimated 
when  we  examine  one  by  one  the  manifold  relations  he 
bore  to  the  people. 

I  have  spoken  of  the  power  of  organization  that  he 
possessed.  There  is  hardly  a  public  enterprise  in  Georgia 
or  in  Atlanta — begun  and  completed  since  1880 — that  does 
not  bear  witness  to  his  ability,  his  energy,  and  his  unsel- 
fishness. His  busy  brain  and  prompt  hand  were  behind 
the  great  cotton  exposition  held  in  Atlanta  in  1881.  Late 
in  the  spring  of  1887,  one  of  the  editorial  writers  of  the 
Constitution  remarked  that  the  next  fair  held  in  Atlanta 
should  be  called  the  Piedmont  Exposition.  "That  shall 
be  its  name,"  said  Mr.  Grady,  "and  it  will  be  held  this 
fall."  That  was  the  origin  of  the  Piedmont  Exposition. 
Within  a  month  the  exposition  company  had  been  organ- 
ized, the  land  bought,  and  work  on  the  grounds  begun.  It 
seemed  to  be  a  hopeless  undertaking — there  was  so  much 
to  be  done,  and  so  little  time  to  do  it  in.  But  Mr.  Grady 


56  HKMJY   \v.   M:ADY, 


equal  to  the  emergency.  He  BO  infused  the  town  with 
his  own  energy  and  enthu>iasni  that  every  citizen  came  to 
-I'd  the  exposition  as  a  personal  matter,  and  th«-  'V,//.v//. 
t  tit  inn  hammered  away  at  it  with  characteristic  iteration. 
There  was  not  a  detail  of  the  great  show  from  beginning  to 
end  that  was  not  of  Mr.  Grady's  suggestion.  When  it 
seemed  to  him  that  he  was  taking  too  prominent  a  part  in 
the  management,  he  would  send  for  other  members  of  the 
fair  committee,  pour  his  suggestions  into  their  ears,  and 
thus  evade  the  notoriety  of  introducing  them  himself  and 
prevent  the  possible  friction  that  might  be  caused  if  lie 
made  himself  too  prominent.  He  understood  human 
nature  perfectly,  and  knew  how  to  manage  men. 

The  exposition  was  organized  and  the  grounds  made 
ready  in  an  incredibly  short  time,  and  the  fair  was  the 
most  successful  in  every  respect  that  has  ever  been  held  in 
the  South.  Its  attractions,  which  were  all  suggested  by 
Mr.  Grady,  appealed  either  to  the  interest  or  the  curiosity 
of  the  people,  and  the  result  was  something  wonderful.  It 
is  to  be  very  much  doubted  whether  any  one  in  this  country, 
in  time  of  peace,  has  seen  an  assemblage  of  such  vast  and 
overwhelming  proportions  as  that  which  gathered  in  Atlanta 
on  the  principal  day  of  the  fair.  Two  years  later,  the 
Piedmont  Exposition  was  reorganized,  and  Mr.  Grady  once 
more  had  practical  charge  of  all  the  details.  The  result 
was  an  exhibition  quite  as  attractive  as  the  first,  to  which 
the  people  responded  as  promptly  as  before.  The  Expo- 
sition Company  cleared  something  over  $20,000,  a  result 
unprecedented  in  the  history  of  Southern  fairs. 

In  the  interval  of  the  two  fairs,  Mr.  Grady  organized  the 
Piedmont  Chautauqua  at  a  little  station  on  the  Georgia 
Pacific  road,  twenty  miles  from  Atlanta.  Beautiful  grounds 
were  laid  out  and  commodious  buildings  put  up.  In  all 
this  work  Mr.  Grady  took  the  most  profound  interest.  The 
intellectual  and  edncational  features  of  such  an  institution 
appealed  strongly  to  his  tastes  and  sympathies,  and  to  that 
active  missionary  spirit  which  impelled  him  to  be  continu- 
ally on  the  alert  in  behalf  of  humanity.  He  expended  a 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  57 

good  deal  of  energy  on  the  Chautauqua  and  on  the  pro- 
gramme of  exercises,  but  the  people  did  not  respond 
heartily,  and  the  session  was  not  a  financial  success.  And 
yet  there  never  was  a  Chautauqua  assembly  that  had  a 
richer  and  a  more  popular  programme  of  exercises.  The 
conception  was  a  success  intellectually,  and  it  will  finally 
grow  into  a  success  in  other  directions.  Mr.  Grady,  with 
his  usual  unselfishness,  insisted  on  bearing  the  expenses  of 
the  lecturers  and  others,  though  it  crippled  him  financially 
to  do  so.  He  desired  to  protect  the  capitalists  who  went 
into  the  enterprise  on  his  account,  and,  as  is  usual  in  such 
cases,  the  capitalists  were  perfectly  willing  to  be  protected. 
Mr.  Grady  was  of  the  opinion  that  his  experience  with  the 
Chautauqua  business  gave  him  a  deeper  and  a  richer 
knowledge  of  human  nature  than  he  had  ever  had  before. 

One  morning  Mr.  Grady  saw  in  a  New  York  newspaper 
that  a  gentleman  from  Texas  was  in  that  city  making  a 
somewhat  unsuccessful  effort  to  raise  funds  for  a  Confed- 
erate veterans'  home.  The  comments  of  the  newspaper 
were  not  wholly  unfriendly,  but  something  in  their  tone 
stirred  Mr.  Grady's  blood.  "  I  will  show  them,"  he  said, 
"  what  can  be  done  in  Georgia/'  and  with  that  he  turned 
to  his  stenographer  and  dictated  a  double-leaded  editorial 
that  stirred  the  State  from  one  end  to  the  other.  He 
followed  it  up  the  next  day,  and  immediately  subscriptions 
began  to  flow  in.  He  never  suffered  interest  in  the  project 
to  nag  until  sufficient  funds  for  a  comfortable  home  for 
the  Confederate  veterans  had  been  raised. 

Previously,  he  had  organized  a  movement  for  putting 
up  a  building  for  the  Young  Men's  Christian  Association, 
and  that  building  now  stands  a  monument  to  his  earnest- 
ness and  unselfishness.  Years  ago,  shortly  after  he  came 
to  Atlanta,  he  took  hold  of  the  Young  Men's  Library, 
which  was  in  a  languishing  condition,  and  put  it  on  its 
feet.  It  was  hard  work,  for  he  was  comparatively  unknown 
then.  Among  other  things,  he  organized  a  lecture  course 
for  the  benefit  of  the  library,  and  he  brought  some  dis- 
tinguished lecturers  to  Atlanta — among  others  the  late 


68  II  i:\KY    W.    GRADY, 

S.  S.  Cox.  Mr.  Cox  telegraphed  from  New  York  that  he 
would  come  to  Atlanta,  and  also  the  subject  of  the  lecture, 
so  that  it  could  be  properly  advertised.  The  telegram  said 
that  the  title  of  the  lecture  was  kt  ,Iust,  Human,1"  and  large 
posters,  bearing  that  title,  were  placed  on  the  bill-boards 
and  distributed  around  town.  As  Mr.  Grady  said,  "the 
town  broke  into  a  profuse  perspiration  of  placards  bearing 
the  strange  device,  while  wrinkles  gathered  on  the  brow  of 
the  public  intellect  and  knotted  themselves  hopelessly  as 
it  pondered  over  what  might  be  the  elucidation  of  such  a 
st  i  angely-named  subject.  "At  last,"  Mr.  Grady  goes  on  to 
say,  "the  lecturer  came,  and  a  pleasant  little  gentleman  he 
was,  who  beguiled  the  walk  to  the  hotel  with  the  airiest  of 
jokes  and  the  brightest  of  comment.  At  length,  when  he 
had  registered  his  name  in  the  untutored  chirograph y  of 
the  great,  he  took  me  to  one  side,  and  asked  in  an  under- 
tone what  those  placards  meant. 

"  '  That,'  I  replied,  looking  at  him  in  astonishment,  'is 
the  subject  of  your  lecture.' 

"  '  My  lecture  ! v  he  shrieked,  '  whose  lecture  ?  What 
lecture?  My  subject  !  Whose  subject?  Why,  sir,' said 
he,  trying  to  control  himself,  'my  subject  is  'Irish 
Humor/  while  this  is  'Just  Human,'  '  and  he  put  on  his 
spectacles  and  glared  into  space  as  if  he  were  determined 
to  wring  from  that  source  some  solution  of  this  cruel 
joke." 

By  an  error  of  transmission,  "  Irish  Humor "  had 
become  "Just  Human."  Mr.  Grady  does  not  relate  the 
sequel,  but  what  followed  was  as  characteristic  of  him  as 
anything  in  his  unique  career. 

"Well,"  said  he,  turning  to  Mr.  Cox,  his  bright  eyes 
full  of  laughter,  "  you  stick  to  your  subject,  and  I'll  take 
this  ready-made  one  ;  you  lecture  on  '  Irish  Humor '  and 
I'll  lecture  on  *  Just  Human.' ' 

And  he  did.  He  took  the  telegraphic  error  for  a  sub- 
ject, and  delivered  in  Atlanta  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
lectures  ever  heard  here.  There  was  humor  in  it  and 
laughter,  but  he  handled  his  theme  with  such  grace  and 


HIS    LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND    SPEECHES.  59 

tenderness  that  the  vast  audience  that  sat  entranced  under 
his  magnetic  oratory  went  home  in  tears. 

The  lecture  course  that  Mr.  Grady  instituted  was  never 
followed  up,  although  it  was  a  successful  one.  It  was  his 
way,  when  he  had  organized  an  enterprise  and  placed  it  on 
its  feet,  to  turn  his  attention  to  something  else.  Some- 
times his  successors  were  equal  to  the  emergency,  and 
sometimes  they  were  not.  The  Young  Men's  Library  has 
been  in  good  hands,  and  it  is  what  may  be  termed  a  suc- 
cessful institution,  but  it  is  not  what  it  was  when  Mr. 
Grady  was  booming  the  town  in  its  behalf.  When  he  put 
his  hand  to  any  enterprise  or  to  any  movement  the  eifect 
seemed  to  be  magical.  It  was  not  his  personal  influence,  for 
there  were  some  enterprises  beyond  the  range  of  that,  that 
responded  promptly  to  his  touch.  It  was  not  his  enthu- 
siasm, for  there  have  been  thousands  of  men  quite  as 
enthusiastic.  Was  it  his  methods  ?  Perhaps  the  secret 
lies  hidden  there ;  but  I  have  often  thought,  while  wit- 
nessing the  results  he  brought  about,  that  he  had  at  his 
command  some  new  element,  or  quality,  or  gift  not  vouch- 
safed to  other  men.  Whatever  it  was,  he  employed  it  only 
for  the  good  of  his  city,  his  State,  his  section,  and  his 
country.  His  patriotisn  was  as  prominent  and  as  per- 
manent as  his  unselfishness.  His  public  spirit  was 
unbounded,  and,  above  all  thi-Mgs,  restless  and  eager. 

I  have  mentioned  only  a  few  of  the  more  important 
enterprises  in  Atlanta  that  owe  their  success  to  Mr.  Grady. 
He  was  identified  with  every  public  movement  that  took 
shape  in  Atlanta,  and  the  people  were  always  sure  that  his 
interest  and  his  influence  were  on  the  side  of  honesty  and 
justice.  But  his  energies  took  a  wider  range.  He  was  the 
very  embodiment  of  the  spirit  that  he  aptly  'named  "  the 
New  South," — the  New  South  that,  reverently  remember- 
ing and  emulating  the  virtues  of  the  old,  and  striving  to 
forget  the  bitterness  of  the  past,  turns  its  face  to  the  future 
and  seeks  to  adapt  itself  to  the  conditions  with  which  an 
unsuccessful  struggle  has  environed  it,  and  to  turn  them 
to  its  profit.  Of  the  New  South  Mr.  Grady  was  the  pro- 


60  HKXIIV   w.   <;  I:\DV. 


pbet,  if  not  the  pioneer.  II«>  wa^  IK-V.T  tin-d  of  preaching 
about  the  rehabilitation  of  his  section.  Much  of  tin-  mar- 
velous development  that  has  taken  place  in  the  South 
during  the  past  ten  years  has  been  due  to  his  eager  and 
persistent  efforts  to  call  the  attention  of  the  world  to  her 
vast  resources.  In  his  newspaper,  in  his  speeches,  in  his 
contributions  to  Northern  periodicals,  this  was  his  theme. 
No  industry  wras  too  small  to  command  his  attention  and 
his  aid,  and  none  were  larger  than  his  expectations.  His 
was  the  pen  that  first  drew  attention  to  the  iron  fields  of 
Alabama,  and  to  the  wonderful  marble  beds  and  mineral 
wealth  of  Georgia.  Other  writers  had  preceded  him, 
perhaps,  but  it  is  due  to  his  unique  methods  of  advertising 
that  the  material  resources  of  the  two  States  are  in  their 
present  stage  of  development.  He  had  no  individual 
interest  in  the  development  of  the  material  wealth  of  the 
South.  During  the  past  ten  years  there  was  not  a  day  when 
he  was  alive  that  he  could  not  have  made  thousands  of 
dollars  by  placing  his  pen  at  the  disposal  of  men  interested 
in  speculative  schemes.  He  had  hundreds  of  opportunities 
to  write  himself  rich,  but  he  never  fell  below  the  high  level 
of  unselfishness  that  marked  his  career  as  boy  and  man. 

There  was  no  limit  to  his  interest  in  Southern  devel- 
opment. The  development  of  the  hidden  wealth  of  the 
hills  and  valleys,  while  it  appealed  strongly  to  an  imagina- 
tion that  had  its  practical  and  common-sense  side,  but  not 
more  strongly  than  the  desperate  struggle  of  the  farmers 
of  the  South  in  their  efforts  to  recover  from  the  disastrous 
results  of  the  war  while  facing  new  problems  of  labor  and 
conditions  wholly  strange.  Mr.  Grady  gave  them  the 
encouragement  of  his  voice  and  pen,  striving  to  teach  them 
the  lessons  of  hope  and  patience.  He  was  something  more 
than  an  optimist.  He  was  the  embodiment,  the  very 
essence,  as  it  seemed  —  of  that  smiling  faith  in  the  future 
that  brings  happiness  and  contentment,  and  he  had  the 
faculty  of  imparting  his  faith  to  other  people.  For  him 
the  sun  was  always  shining,  and  he  tried  to  make  it  shine 
for  other  men.  At  one  period,  when  the  farmers  of  Georgia 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECH  KS.  (51 

seemed  to  be  in  despair,  and  while  there  was  a  notable 
movement  from  this  State  to  Georgia,  Mr.  Grady  caused 
the  correspondents  of  the  Constitution  to  make  an  investi- 
gation into  the  agricultural  situation  in  Georgia.  The 
result  was  highly  gratifying  in  every  respect.  The  corre- 
spondents did  their  work  well,  as,  indeed,  they  could 
hardly  fail  to  do  under  the  instructions  of  Mr.  Grady. 
The  farmers  who  had  been  despondent  took  heart,  and 
from  that  time  to  the  present  there  has  been  a  steady 
improvement  in  the  status  of  agriculture  in  Georgia. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  describe  or  to  give  an  adequate 
idea  of  the  work — remarkable  in  its  extent  as  well  as  in  its 
character — that  Mr.  Grady  did  for  Georgia  and  for  the 
South.  It  was  his  keen  and  hopeful  eyes  that  first  saw  the 
fortunes  that  were  to  be  made  in  Florida  oranges.  He 
wrote  for  the  Constitution  in  1877  a  series  of  ^glowing  let- 
ters that  were  full  of  predictions  and  figures  based  on 
them.  The  matter  was  so  new  at  that  time,  and  Mr. 
Grady' s  predictions  and  estimates  seemed  to  be  so  extrav- 
agant, that  some  of  the  editors,  irritated  by  his  optimism, 
as  well  as  by  his  success  as  a  journalist,  alluded  to  his  fig- 
ures as  "  Grady' s  facts,"  and  this  expression  had  quite  a 
vogue,  even  among  those  who  were  not  unfriendly. 

Nevertheless  there  is  not  a  prediction  to  be  found  in 
Mr.  Grady' s  Florida  letters  that  has  not  been  fulfilled,  and 
his  figures  appear  to  be  tame  enough  when' compared  with 
the  real  results  that  have  been  brought  about  by  the 
orange-growers.  Long  afterwards  he  alluded  publicly  to 
"Grady's  facts,"  accepted  its  application,  and  said  he  was 
proud  that  his  facts  always  turned  out  to  be  facts. 

It  would  be  impossible  to  enumerate  the  practical  sub- 
jects with  which  Mr.  Grady  dealt  in  the  Constitution.  In 
the  editorial  rooms  he  was  continually  suggesting  the 
exhaustive  treatment  of  some  matter  of  real  public  inter- 
est, and  in  the  majority  of  instances,  after  making  the  sug- 
gestion to  one  of  his  writers,  he  would  treat  the  subject 
himself  in  his  own  inimitable  style.  His  pleasure  trips 
were  often  itineraries  in  behalf  of  the  section  he  was  visit- 


62  HK.NKY    \V.    ORADY, 

ing.  He  went  on  a  pleasure  trip  to  Southern  Georgia  on 
one  occasion,  and  here  are  the  headlines  of  a  few  of  the 
letters  he  sent  back:  "Berries  and  Politics,"  "The  Sav- 
ings of  the  Georgia  Farmers,"  "The  Largest  Strawberry 
Farm  in  the  State,"  "A  Wandering  Bee,  and  How  it  Made 
the  LeConte  Pear,"  "The  Turpentine  Industries."  All 
these  are  suggestive.  Each  letter  bore  some  definite  r»-la- 
tion  to  the  development  of  the  resources  of  the  State. 

To  Mr.  Grady,  more  than  to  any  other  man,  is  due  the 
development  of  the  truck  gardens  and  watermelon  farms 
of  southern  and  southwest  Georgia.  When  he  advised  in 
the  Constitution  the  planting  of  watermelons  for  shipment 
to  the  North,  the  proposition  was  hooted  at  by  some  of  the 
rival  editors,  but  he  "  boomed"  the  business,  as  the  phrase 
is,  and  to-day' the  watermelon  business  is  an  established 
industry,  and  thousands  of  farmers  are  making  money 
during  what  would  otherwise  be  a  dull  season  of  the  year. 
And  so  with  hundreds  of  other  things.  His  suggestions 
were  always  practicable,  though  they  were  sometimes  so 
unique  as  to  invite  the  criticism  of  the  thoughtless,  and 
they  were  always  for  the  benefit  of  others  — for  the  benefit 
of  the  people.  How  few  men,  even  though  they  live  to  a 
ripe  old  age,  leave  behind  them  such  a  record  of  usefulness 
and  unselfish  devotion  as  that  of  this  man,  who  died  before 
his  prime ! 

VII. 

Mr.  Grady' s  editorial  methods  were  as  unique  as  all  his 
other  methods.  They  can  be  described,  but  they  cannot 
be  explained.  He  had  an  instinctive  knowledge  of  n«-ws 
in  its  embryonic  state  ;  he  seemed  to  know  just  where  and 
when  a  sensation  or  a  startling  piece  of  information  would 
develop  itself,  and  he  was  always  ready  for  it.  Sometimes 
it  seemed  to  grow  and  develop  under  his  hands,  and  his 
insight  and  information  were  such  that  what  appeared  to 
be  an  ordinary  news  item  would  suddenly  become,  under 
his  manipulation  and  interpretation,  of  the  first  importance 
It  was  this  faculty  that  enabled  him  to  make  the  Constilu- 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  63 

tion  one  of  the  leading  journals  of  the  country  in  its  method 
of  gathering  and  treating  the  news. 

Mr.  Grady  was  not  as  fond  of  the  editorial  page  as 
might  be  supposed.  Editorials  were  very  well  in  their  way 
—capital  in  an  emergency — admirable  when  a  nail  was  to 
be  clinched,  so  to  speak — but  most  important  of  all  to  his 
mind  was  the  news  and  the  treatment  of  it.  The  whirl  of 
events  was  never  too  rapid  for  him.  The  most  startling 
developments,  the  most  unexpected  happenings,  always 
found  him  ready  to  deal  with  them  instantly  and  in  just 
the  right  way. 

He  magnified  the  office  of  reporting,  and  he  had  a  great 
fancy  for  it  himself.  There  are  hundreds  of  instances 
where  he  voluntarily  assumed  the  duties  of  a  reporter  after 
he  became  managing  editor.  A  case  in  point  is  the  work 
he  did  on  the  occasion  of  the  Charleston  earthquake.  The 
morning  after  that  catastrophe  he  was  on  his  way  to 
Charleston.  He  took  a  reporter  with  him,  but  he  preferred 
to  do  most  of  the  work.  His  graphic  descriptions  of  the 
disaster  in  all  its  phases — his  picturesque  grouping  of  all 
the  details — were  the  perfection  of  reporting,  and  were 
copied  all  over  the  country.  The  reporter  who  accompa- 
nied Mr.  Grady  had  a  wonderful  tale  to  tell  on  his  return. 
To  the  people  of  that  desolate  town,  the  young  Georgian 
seemed  to  carry  light  and  hope.  Hundreds  of  citizens  were 
encamped  on  the  streets.  Mr.  Grady  visited  these  camps, 
and  his  sympathetic  humor  brought  a  smile  to  many  a  sad 
face.  He  went  from  house  to  house,  and  from  encampment 
to  .encampment,  wrote  two  or  three  columns  of  telegraphic 
matter  on  his  knee,  went  to  his  room  in  the  hotel  in  the 
early  hours  of  morning,  fell  on  the  bed  with  his  clothes  on, 
and  in  a  moment  was  sound  asleep.  The  reporter  never 
knew  the  amount  of  work  Mr.  Grady  had  done  until  he 
saw  it  spread  out  in  the  columns  of  the  Constitution. 
Working  at  high-pressure  there  was  hardly  a  limit  to  the 
amount  of  copy  Mr.  Grady  could  produce  in  a  given  time, 
and  it  sometimes  happened  that  he  dictated  an  editorial  to 
his  stenographer  while  writing  a  news  article. 


64  IIKNKY    W.    (JKADT, 

He  did  a  good  deal  of  his  more  leisurely  newspaper  work 
at  home,  with  his  wife  and  children  around  him.  He  never 
wrote  on  a  table  or  desk,  but  used  a  lapboard  or  a  pad, 
leaning  back  in  his  chair  with  his  feet  as  high  as  his  head. 
His  house  was  always  a  centre  of  attraction,  and  when  vis- 
itors came  in  Mrs.  Grady  used  to  tell  them  that  they 
needn't  mind  Henry.  The  only  thing  that  disturbed  him 
on  such  occasions  was  when  the  people  in  the  room  con- 
versed in  a  tone  so  low  that  he  failed  to  hear  what  they 
were  saying.  When  this  happened  he  would  look  up  from 
his  writing  with  a  quick  "  What's  that  ? "  This  often  hap- 
pened in  the  editorial  rooms,  and  he  would  frequently  write 
while  taking  part  in  a  conversation,  never  losing  the  thread 
of  his  article  or  of  the  talk. 

As  I  have  said,  he  reserved  his  editorials  for  occasions 
or  emergencies,  and  it  was  then  that  his  luminous  style 
showed  at  its  best.  He  employed  always  the  apt  phrase  ; 
he  was,  in  fact  a  phrase-builder.  His  gift  of  expression 
was  something  marvelous,  and  there  was  something  melo- 
dious and  fluent  about  his  more  deliberate  editorials  that 
suggested  the  movement  of  verse.  I  was  reading  awhile 
ago  his  editorial  appealing  to  the  people  of  Atlanta  on  the 
cold  Christmas  morning  which  has  already  been  alluded  to 
in  this  sketch.  It  is  short — not  longer  than  the  pencil  with 
which  he  wrote  it.  but  there  is  that  about  it  calculated  to 
stir  the  blood,  even  now.  Above  any  other  man  I  have 
ever  known  Mr.  Grady  possessed  the  faculty  of  imparting 
his  personal  magnetism  to  cold  type  ;  and  even  such  a 
statement  as  this  is  an  inadequate  explanation  of  the  swift 
and  powerful  effect  that  his  writings  had  on  the  public 
mind. 

He  had  a  keen  eye  for  what,  in  a  general  way,  may  be 
called  climaxes.  Thus  he  was  content  to  see  the  daily  Con- 
stitution run  soberly  and  sedately  along  during  the  week 
if  it  developed  into  a  great  paper  on  Sunday.  He  did 
more  editorial  work  for  the  Sunday  paper  than  for  any 
other  issue,  and  bent  all  his  energies  toward  making  an 
impression  on  that  day.  There  was  nothing  about  the 


1IIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  66 

details  of  the  paper  that  he  did  not  thoroughly  understand. 
He  knew  more  about  the  effects  of  type  combinations  than 
the  printers  did  ;  he  knew  as  much  about  the  business 
department  as  the  business  manager  ;  and  he  could  secure 
more  advertisements  in  three  hours  than  his  advertising 
clerks  could  solicit  in  a  week.  It  used  to  be  said  of  him 
that  he  lacked  the  business  faculty.  I  suppose  the  remark 
was  based  on  the  fact  that,  in  the  midst  of  all  the  tre- 
mendous booms  he  stirred  up,  and  the  enterprises  he  fos- 
tered, he  remained  comparatively  poor.  I  think  he  pur- 
posely neglected  the  opportunities  for  private  gain  that 
were  offered  him.  There  can  be  no  more  doubt  of  his  busi- 
ness qualification  than  there  can  be  of  the  fact  that  he 
neglected  opportunities  for  private  gain  ;  but  his  business 
faculties  were  given  to  the  service  of  the  public — witness 
his  faultless  management  of  two  of  the  greatest  expositions 
ever  held  in  the  South.  Had  he  served  his  own  interests 
one-half  as  earnestly  as  he  served  those  of  the  people,  he 
would  have  been  a  millionaire.  As  it  was,  he  died  com- 
paratively poor. 

Mr.  Grady  took  great  pride  in  the  Weekly  Constitu- 
tion, and  that  paper  stands  to-day  a  monument  to  his  busi- 
ness faculty  and  to  his  wonderful  methods  of  management. 
When  Mr.  Grady  took  hold  of  the  weekly  edition,  it  had 
about  seven  thousand  subscribers,  and  his  partners  thought 
that  the  field  would  be  covered  when  the  list  reached  ten 
thousand.  To-day  the  list  of  subscribers  is  not  far  below 
two  hundred  thousand,  and  is  larger  than  that  of  the  weekly 
edition  of  any  other  American  newspaper.  Just  how  this 
result  has  been  brought  about  it  is  impossible  to  say.  His 
methods  were  not  mysterious,  perhaps,  but  they  did  not  lie 
on  the  surface.  The  weekly  editions  of  newspapers  that 
have  reached  large  circulations  depend  on  some  specialty — 
as,  for  instance,  the  Detroit  Free  Press  with  the  popular 
sketches  of  M.  Quad,  and  the  Toledo  Blade,  with  the  ran- 
corous, but  still  popular,  letters  of  Petroleum  V.  Nasby. 
The  Weekly  Constitution  has  never  depended  on  such 
things.  It  has  had,  and  still  has,  the  letters  of  Bill  Arp, 


66  HENRY   W.    GRADY, 

of  Sarge  Wier,  and  of  Betsey  Hamilton,  homely  humorists 
all,  but  Mr.  Grady  took  great  pains  never  to  magnify  these 
things  into  specialties.  Contributions  that  his  assistants 
thought  would  do  for  the  weekly,  Mr.  Grady  would  cut  out 
relentlessly. 

It  sometimes  happened  that  subscribers  would  begin  to 
fall  off.  Then  Mr.  Grady  would  send  for  the  manager  of 
the  weekly  department,  and  proceed  to  caucus  with  him, 
as  the  young  men  around  the  office  termed  the  conference. 
During  the  next  few  days  there  would  be  a  great  stir  in  the 
weekly  department,  and  in  the  course  of  a  fortnight  the 
list  of  subscribers  would  begin  to  grow  again.  Once,  when 
talking  about  the  weekly,  Mr.  Grady  remarked  in  a  jocular 
way  that  when  subscriptions  began  to  flow  in  at  the  rate  of 
two  thousand  a  day,  he  wanted  to  die.  Singularly  enough, 
when  he  was  returning  from  Boston,  having  been  seized 
with  the  sickness  that  was  so  soon  to  carry  him  off,  the 
business  manager  telegraphed  him  that  more  than  two 
thousand  subscribers  had  been  received  the  day  before. 

In  the  midst  of  the  manifold  duties  and  responsibilities 
that  he  had  cheerfully  taken  on  his  shoulders,  there  came 
to  Mr.  Grady  an  ardent  desire  to  aid  in  the  reconciliation 
of  the  North  and  South,  and  to  bring  about  a  better  under- 
standing between  them.  This  desire  rapidly  grew  into  a 
fixed  and  solemn  purpose.  His  first  opportunity  was  an 
invitation  to  the  banquet  of  the  New  England  Society, 
which  he  accepted  with  great  hesitation.  The  wonderful 
effect  of  his  speech  at  that  banquet,  and  the  tremendous 
response  of  applause  and  approval  that  came  to  him  from 
all  parts  of  the  country,  assured  him  that  he  had  touched 
the  key-note  of  the  situation,  and  he  knew  then  that  his 
real  mission  was  that  of  Pacificator.  There  was  a  change 
in  him  from  that  time  forth,  though  it  was  a  change  visible 
only  to  friendly  and  watchful  eyes.  He  put  away  some- 
thing of  his  boyishness,  and  became,  as  it  seemed,  a  trifle 
more  thoughtful.  His  purpose  developed  into  a  mission, 
and  grew  in  his  mind,  and  shone  in  his  eyes,  and  remained 
with  him  day  and  night.  He  made  many  speeches  after 


HIS    LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  67 

that,  frequently  in  little  out-of-the-way  country  places,  but 
all  of  them  had  a  national  significance  and  national  bearing. 
He  was  preaching  the  sentiments  of  harmony,  fraternity, 
and  good  will  to  the  South  as  well  as  to  the  North. 

He  prepared  his  Boston  speech  with  great  care,  not 
merely  to  perfect  its  form,  but  to  make  it  worthy  of  the 
great  cause  he  had  at  heart,  and  in  its  preparation  he 
departed  widely  from  his  usual  methods  of  composition. 
He  sent  his  servants  away,  locked  himself  in  Mrs.  Grady's 
room,  and  would  not  tolerate  interruptions  from  any  source. 
His  memory  was  so  prodigious  that  whatever  he  wrote  was 
fixed  in  his  mind,  so  that  when  he  had  once  written  out  a 
speech,  he  needed  the  manuscript  no  more.  Those  who 
were  with  him  say  that  he  did  not  confine  himself  to  the 
printed  text  of  the  Boston  speech,  but  made  little  excur- 
sions suggested  by  his  surroundings.  Nevertheless,  that 
speech,  as  it  stands,  reaches  the  high-water  mark  of  nlodern 
oratory.  It  was  his  last,  as  it  was  his  best,  contribution 
to  the  higher  politics  of  the  country — the  politics  that  are 
above  partisanry  and  self-seeking. 

VIII. 

From  Boston  Mr.  Grady  came  home  to  die.  It  was 
known  that  he  was  critically  ill,  but  his  own  life  had  been 
so  hopeful  and  so  bright,  that  when  the  announcement  of 
his  death  was  made  the  people  of  Atlanta  were  paralyzed, 
and  the  whole  country  shocked.  It  was  a  catastrophe  so 
sudden  and  so  far-reaching  that  even  sorrow  stood  dumb 
for  a  while.  The  effects  of  such  a  calamity  were  greater 
than  sorrow  could  conceive  or  affection  contemplate.  Men 
who  had  only  a  passing  acquaintance  with  him  wept  when 
they  heard  of  his  death.  Laboring  men  spoke  of  him  with 
trembling  lips  and  tearful  eyes,  and  working-women  went 
to  their  tasks  in  the  morning  crying  bitterly.  Never  again 
will  there  come  to  Atlanta  a  calamity  that  shall  so  pro- 
foundly touch  the  hearts  of  the  people — that  shall  so 
encompass  the  town  with  the  spirit  of  mourning. 


68  HKNI1V    \V.    ORADY. 

I  feel  that  I  have  been  unable,  in  this  hastily  written 
sketch,  to  do  justice  to  the  memory  of  this  remarkable 
111:111.  I  have  found  it  impossible  to  describe  his  marvelous 
gifts,  his  wonderful  versatility,  or  the  genius  that  set  him 
apart  from  other  men.  The  new  generations  that  arise  will 
bring  with  them  men  who  will  be  fitted  to  meet  the  emer- 
gencies that  may  arise,  men  fitted  to  rule  and  capable  of 
touching  the  popular  heart ;  but  no  generation  will  ever 
produce  a  genius  so  versatile,  a  nature  so  rare  and  so  sweet, 
a  character  so  perfect  and  beautiful,  a  heart  so  unselfish, 
and  a  mind  of  such  power  and  vigor,  as  those  that  combined 
to  form  the  unique  personality  of  Henry  W.  Grady.  Never 
again,  it  is  to  be  feared,  will  the  South  have  such  a  wise 
and  devoted  leader,  or  sectional  unity  so  brilliant  a  cham- 
pion, or  the  country  so  ardent  a  lover,  or  humanity  so 
unselfish  a  friend,  or  the  cause  of  the  people  so  eloquent 
an  advocate. 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  69 


MEMORIAL  OF  HENRY  W.  GRADY. 


PREPARED  BY  MARION  J.  VERDERY,  AT  THE  REQUEST  OF 
THE  NEW  YORK  SOUTHERN  SOCIETY. 


HENRY  WOODFIN  GRADY  was  born  in  Athens, 
Georgia,  May  17,  1851,  and  died  in  Atlanta, 
Georgia,  December  23,  1889. 

His  father,  William  S.  Grady,  was  a  native  of  North 
Carolina,  and  lived  in  that  State  until  about  the  year  1846, 
when  he  moved  to  Athens,  Georgia.  He  was  a  man  oi' 
vigorous  energy,  sterling  integrity,  and  great  independence 
of  character.  He  was  not  literary  by  profession,  but  de- 
voted himself  to  mercantile  pursuits,  and  accumulated  what 
was  in  those  days  considered  a  handsome  fortune.  Soon 
after  moving  to  Georgia  to  live,  he  married  Miss  Gartrell, 
a  woman  of  rare  strength  of  character  and  deep  religious 
nature.  Their  married  life  was  sanctified  by  love  of  God, 
and  made  happy  by  a  consistent  devotion  to  each  other. 

They  had  three  children,  Henry  Woodfin,  William  S., 
Jr. ,  and  Martha.  Henry  Grady' s  father  was  an  early  volun- 
teer in  the  Confederate  Army.  He  organized  and  equipped 
a  company,  of  which  he  was  unanimously  elected  captain, 
and  went  at  once  to  Virginia,  where  he  continued  in  active 
service  until  he  lost  his  life  in  one  of  the  battles  before 
Petersburg.  During  his  career  as  a  soldier  he  bore  himself 
with  such  conspicuous  valor,  that  he  was  accorded  the  rare 
distinction  of  promotion  on  the  field  for  gallantry. 

He  fought  in  defense  of  his  convictions,  and  fell  "a 
martyr  for  conscience'  sake." 

His  widow,  bereft  of  her  helpmate,  faced  alone  the  grave 
responsibility  of  rearing  her  three  young  children. 


70  IIKNKY    W.    GRADY, 

She  led  them  in  i In- ways  of  righteousness  and  truth, 
and  alwa\>  >u.vt«'in'd  their  lives  with  the  tenderness  of 
indulgence,  and  the  beauty  of  devotion.  Two  of  them  still 
live  to  call  her  blessed. 

If  memorials  \\«-re  meant  only  for  the  day  and  genera- 
tion in  which  they  are  written,  who  would  venture  upon 
tin-  task  of  preparing  one  to  Ilt-nry  W.  Grady  ?  His  death 
occasioned  such  wide  uiicf,  and  induced  such  unprece- 
dented demonstrations  of  sorrow,  that  nothing  can  be  com- 
mensurate with  those  Impressive  evidences  of  the  unrivaled 
place  he  held  in  the  homage  of  his  countrymen. 

No  written  memorial  can  indicate  the  strong  hold  he  had 
upon  the  Southern  people,  nor  portray  that  peerless  per- 
sonality which  gave  him  his  marvelous  power  among  men. 
He  had  a  matchless  grace  of  soul  that  made  him  an  unfail- 
ing winner  of  hearts.  His  translucent  mind  pulsated  with 
the  light  of  truth  and  beautified  all  thought.  He  grew 
flowers  in  the  garden  of  his  heart  and  sweetened  the  world 
with  the  perfume  of  his  spirit.  His  endowments  were  so 
superior,  and  his  purposes  so  unselfish,  that  he  seemed  to 
combine  all  the  best  elements  of  genius,  and  live  under  the 
influence  of  Divine  inspiration. 

As  both  a  writer  and  a  speaker,  he  was  phenomenally 
gifted.  There  was  no  limit,  either  to  the  power  or  witchery 
of  his  pen.  In  his  masterful  hand,  it  was  as  he  chose, 
either  the  mighty  instrument  which  Richelieu  decribed,  or 
the  light  wand  of  a  poet  striking  off  the  melody  of  song, 
though  not  to  the  music  of  rhyme.  In  writing  a  political 
editorial,  or  an  article  on  the  industrial  development  of  the 
South,  or  anything  else  to  which  he  was  moved  by  an 
inspiring  sense  of  patriotism  or  conviction  of  duty,  he  was 
logical,  aggressive,  and  unanswerable.  When  building  an 
aii- castle  over  the  framework  of  his  fancy,  or  when  pour- 
ing out  his  soul  in  some  romantic  dream,  or  when  sounding 
the  depth  of  human  feeling  by  an  appeal  for  Charity's  sake, 
his  command  of  lan^ua.^e  was  as  boundl^s  as  the  lealni  of 
thought,  his  ideas  as  beautiful  as  pictures  in  (he  sky,  and 
his  pathos  as  ilenp  as  the  well  of  tears.  As  an  orator,  he 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND    SPEECHES.  71 

had  no  equal  in  the  South.  He  literally  mastered  his  audi- 
ence regardless  of  their  character,  chaining  them  to  the 
train  of  his  thought  and  carrying  them  captive  to  convic- 
tion. He  moved  upon  their  souls  like  the  Divine  Spirit 
upon  the  waters,  either  lashing  them  into  storms  of  enthu- 
siasm, or  stilling  them  into  the  restful  quiet  of  sympathy. 
He  was  like  no  other  man — he  was  a  veritable  magician. 
He  could  invest  the  most  trifling  thing  with  proportions  of 
importance  not  at  all  its  own.  He  could  transform  a 
homely  thought  into  an  expression  of  beauty  beneath  his 
wondrous  touch.  From  earliest  childhood  he  possessed  that 
indefinable  quality  which  compels  hero-worship. 

In  the  untimely  ending  of  his  brilliant  and  useful  career 
— an  ending  too  sudden  to  be  called  less  than  tragic — there 
came  an  affliction  as  broad  as  the  land  he  loved,  and  a  grief 
well-nigh  universal.  Atlanta  lamented  her  foremost  citi- 
zen ;  Georgia  mourned  her  peerless  son  ;  the  New  South 
agonized  over  the  fall  of  her  intrepid  leader ;  and  the  heart 
of  the  nation  was  athrob  with  sorrow  when  the  announce- 
ment went  forth — "Henry  W.  Grady  is  dead." 

The  power  of  his  personality,  the  vital  force  of  his 
energy,  and  the  scope  of  his  genius,  had  always  precluded 
the  thought  that  death  could  touch  him,  and  hence,  when 
he  fell  a  victim  to  the  dread  destroyer,  there  was  a  terrible 
shock  felt,  and  sorrow  rolled  like  a  tempest  over  the  souls 
of  the  Southern  people. 

The  swift  race  he  ran,  and  the  lofty  heights  he  attained, 
harmonized  well  with  God's  munificent  endowment  of  him. 
In  every  field  that  he  labored,  his  achievements  were  so 
wonderful,  that  a  faithful  account  of  his  career  sounds 
more  like  the  extravagance  of  eulogy,  than  like  a  record  of 
truth.  Of  his  very  early  boyhood  no  account  is  essential  to 
1 1 10  purposes  of  this  sketch.  It  is  unnecessary  to  give  any 
details  of  him  prior  to  the  time  when  he  was  a  student  in 
tiie  University  of  Georgia,  at  Athens.  From  that  institu- 
tion he  was  graduated  in  1868. 

During  his  college  days,  he  was  a  boy  of  bounding 
spirit,  who,  by  uu  inexplicable  power  over  his  associates, 


T>  IIKXKY    W.    GRADY, 

made  for  himself  an  unchallenged  leadership  in  all  things 
with  which  he  concerned  himself.  He  was  not  a  close  stu- 
dent. He  never  studied  his  text-books  more  than  was 
necessary  to  guarantee  his  rising  from  class  to  cla>s.  and 
to  finally  secure  his  diploma.  He  had  no  fondness  for  any 
department  of  learning  except  belles-lettres.  In  that 
1) ranch  of  study  he  stood  well,  simply  because  it  was  to  his 
liking.  The  sciences,  especially  mathematics,  were  really 
distasteful  to  him.  He  was  an  omnivorous  reader.  Every 
character  of  Dickens  was  as  familiar  to  him  as  a  personal 
friend.  That  great  novelist  was  his  favorite  author.  He 
read  widely  of  history,  and  had  a  great  memory  for  dates 
and  events.  He  reveled  in  poetry  as  a  pastime,  but  never 
found  anything  that  delighted  him  more  than  "Lucile." 
He  learned  that  love-song  literally  by  heart. 

While  at  college  his  best  intellectual  efforts  were  made 
in  his  literary  and  debating  society.  He  aspired  to  be 
anniversarian  of  his  society,  and  his  election  seemed  a 
foregone  conclusion.  He  was,  however,  over-confident  of 
success  in  the  last  days  of  the  canvass,  and  when  the  elec- 
tion came  off  was  beaten  by  one  vote.  This  was  his  first 
disappointment,  and  went  hard  with  him.  He  could  not 
bring  himself  to  understand  how  anything  toward  the 
accomplishment  of  which  he  had  bent  his  energy  could  fail. 
His  defeat  proved  a  blessing  in  disguise,  for  the  following 
year  a  place  of  higher  honor,  namely  that  of  ' '  commence- 
ment orator"  was  instituted  at  the  University,  and  to  that 
he  was  elected  by  acclamation.  This  was  the  year  of  his 
graduation,  and  the  speech  he  'made  was  the  sensation  of 
commencement.  His  subject  was  "  Castles  in  Air,1'  and  in 
the  treatment  of  his  poetic  theme  he  reveled  in  that  won- 
derful power  of  word  painting  for  which  he  afterwards 
became  so  famous.  Even  in  those  early  days,  he  wrote  and 
spoke  with  a  fluency  of  expression,  and  brilliancy  of  fancy, 
that  were  -incomparable. 

In  all  the  relations  of  college  life  he  was  universally 
}>oi>iilar.  He  had  a  real  genius  for  putting  himself  en  rap- 
port with  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men.  His  sympathy 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND    SPEECHES.  73 

was  quick-flowing  and  kind.  Any  sight  or  story  of  suffer- 
ing would  touch  his  heart  and  make  the  tears  come.  His 
generosity,  like  a  great  river,  ran  in  ceaseless  flow  and 
broadening  course  toward  the  wide  ocean  of  humanity. 
He  lived  in  the  realization  of  its  being  "more  blessed  to 
give  than  to  receive."  He  never  stopped  to  consider  the 
worthiness  of  an  object,  but  insisted  that  a  man  was  enti- 
tled to  some  form  of  selfishness,  and  said  his  was  the  self- 
indulgence  which  he  experienced  in  giving. 

There  was  an  old  woman  in  Athens,  who  was  a  typical 
professional  beggar.  She  wore  out  everybody's  charity 
except  Grady's.  He  never  tired  helping  her.  One  day  he 
said,  just  after  giving  her  some  money,  "  I  do  hope  old 
Jane  will  not  die  as  long  as  I  live  in  Athens.  If  she  does, 
my  most  unfailing  privilege  of  charity  will  be  cut  off."  A 
princely  liberality  marked  everything  he  did.  His  name 
never  reduced  the  average  of  a  subscription  list,  but  eight 
times  out  of  ten  it  was  down  for  the  largest  amount. 

By  his  marked  individuality  of  character,  and  evidences 
of  genius,  even  as  a  boy  he  impressed  himself  upon  all 
those  with  whom  he  came  in  contact. 

Immediately  after  his  graduation  at  Athens,  he  went  to 
the  University  of  Virginia,  not  so  much  with  a  determina- 
tion to  broaden  his  scholastic  attainments,  as  with  the  idea 
that  in  that  famous  institution  he  would  be  inspired  to  a 
higher  cultivation  of  his  inborn  eloquence.  From  the  day 
he  entered  the  University  of  Virginia,  he  had  only  one 
ambition,  and  that  was  to  be  "society  orator."  He  made 
such  a  profound  impression  in  the  Washington  Society  that 
his  right  to  the  honor  he  craved  was  scarcely  disputed.  In 
the  public  debates,  he  swept  all  competitors  before  him. 
About  two  weeks  before  the  Society's  election  of  its  ora- 
tor, he  had  routed  every  other  aspirant  from  the  field,  and 
it  seemed  he  would  be  unanimously  chosen.  However, 
when  election  day  came,  that  same  over-confidence  which 
cost  him  defeat  at  Athens  lost  him  victory  at  Charlottes- 
ville.  This  disappointment  nearly  broke  his  heart.  He 
came  back  home  crestfallen  and  dispirited,  and  but  for  the 


74  <KY    W.    GRADY, 

wonderful  buoyancy  of  his  nature,  lie  might  have  suc- 
cumbed permanently  to  the  severe  blow  which  had  been 
struck  at  his  youthful  aspirations  and  hoj 

It  was  not  long  after  his  return  to  Georgia  before  lie 
determined  to  make  journalism  his  life-work.  At  once  he 
began  writing  newspaper  letters  on  all  sorts  of  subjects, 
trusting  to  his  genius  to  give  interest  to  purely  fanciful 
topics,  which  had  not  the  slightest  flavor  of  news.  Having 
thus  felt  his  way  out  into  the  field  of  his  adoption,  he  soon 
went  regularly  into  newspaper  business. 

Just  about  this  time,  and  before  lie  had  attained  his 
majority,  he  married  Miss  Julia  King,  of  Athens.  She  was 
the  first  sweetheart  of  his  boyhood,  and  kept  that  hallowed 
place  always.  Her  beauty  and  grace  of  person,  united  to 
her  charms  of  character,  made  her  the  queen  of  his  life  and 
the  idol  of  his  love.  She,  with  two  children  (a  boy  and 
girl),  survive  him. 

In  his  domestic  life  he  was  tender  and  indulgent  to  his 
family,  and  generously  hospitable  to  his  friends.  The  very 
best  side  of  him  was  always  turned  toward  his  hearthstone, 
and  there  he  dispensed  the  richest  treasures  of  his  soul. 
His  home  was  his  castle,  and  in  it  his  friends  were  always 
made  happy  by  the  benediction  of  his  welcome. 

Soon  after  marriage  he  moved  to  Rome,  Georgia,  and 
established  himself  in  the  joint  ownership,  and  editorial 
management  of  the  Rome  Commercial,  which  paper,  instead 
of  prospering,  was  soon  enveloped  in  bankruptcy,  costing 
Mr.  Grady  many  thousands  of  dollars.  Shortly  after  this 
he  moved  to  Atlanta,  and  formed  a  partnership  with  Col. 
Robert  Alliston  in  founding  the  Atlanta  Herald.  The  con- 
duct of  that  paper  was  a  revelation  in  Georgia  journalism. 
Grady  and  Alliston  combined  probably  more  i^nins  than 
any  two  men  who  have  ever  owned  a  ]»:i|»*-r  together  in  that 
State.  They  made  the  columns  of  the  Herald  luminous. 
They  also  put  into  it  more  push  and  enterprise  than  had 
ever  been  known  in  that  section.  They  sacrificed  every- 
Hiing  to  daily  triumph,  ivgardlcss  of  cost  or  coii^.-qiM-nccs. 
They  wrnt  so  far  as  to  charter  an  enuino  in  order  that  they 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  75 

might  put  their  morning  edition  in  Macon,  Georgia,  by 
breakfast  time.  This  was  a  feat  never  before  dreamed  of 
in  Georgia.  They  accomplished  the  unprecedented  under- 
taking, but  in  doing  that,  and  other  things  of  unwarranted 
extravagance,  it  was  not  long  before  the  Atlanta  Herald 
went  "  lock,  stock  and  barrel,"  into  the  wide-open  arms  of 
the  Sheriff.  In  this  venture  Mr.  Grady  not  only  sunk  all 
of  his  personal  fortune  which  remained  after  the  Rome 
wreck,  but  involved  himself  considerably  in  debt.  Thus  at 
twenty-three  years  of  age,  he  was  a  victim  to  disappoint- 
ment in  the  only  two  pronounced  ambitions  he  had  ever 
had,  and  was  depressed  by  the  utter  failure  of  the  only 
two  business  enterprises  in  which  he  had  ever  engaged. 

He  made  another  effort,  and  started  a  weekly  paper 
called  the  Atlanta  Capital.  This,  however,  soon  went  the 
sorrowing  way  of  his  other  hopes. 

While  those  failures  and  disappointments  seemed  cruel 
set-backs  in  that  day,  looked  at  now  they  may  be  counted 
to  have  been  no  more  than  healthful  discipline  to  him. 
They  served  to  stir  his  spirit  the  deeper,  and  fill  him  with 
nobler  resolve.  Bravely  he  trampled  misfortune  under  his 
feet,  and  climbed  to  the  high  place  of  honor  and  usefulness 
for  which  he  was  destined. 

In  the  day  of  his  extreme  poverty,  instead  of  despairing 
he  took  on  new  strength  and  courage  that  equipped  him 
well  for  future  triumphs.  When  it  is  remembered  that  his 
vast  accomplishments  and  national  reputation  were  com- 
passed within  the  next  fourteen  years,  the  record  is  simply 
amazing. 

Fourteen  years  ago,  Henry  W.  Grady  stood  in  Atlanta, 
Georgia,  bankrupt  and  almost  broken-hearted.  Everything 
behind  him  was  blotted  by  failure,  and  nothing  ahead  of 
him  was  lighted  with  promise.  In  that  trying  day  he 
borrowed  fifty  dollars,  and  giving  twenty  of  it  to  his  faith- 
ful wife,  took  the  balance  and  determined  to  invest  it  in 
traveling  as  far  as  it  would  carry  him  from  the  scene  of 
his  discouragements.  He  h:i<l  om>  oflVr  then  open  to  him, 
namely,  the  editorial  management  of  the  Wilmington 


76  IIKMJY     \V.    (SKAI)Y, 

(North  Carol! n;i)  Mar,  at  a  salary  of  twelve  hundred  dol- 
lars a  year.  It  was  the  only  thing  that  seemed  a  guarantee 
against  actual  want,  and  he  had  about  determined  to  accept 
it,  when  yielding  to  the  influence  of  pure  presentiment, 
instead  of  buying  a  ticket  to  Wilmington  with  his  thirty 
dollars,  he  bought  one  to  New  York  City. 

He  landed  here  with  three  dollars  and  seventy-five  cents, 
and  registered  at  the  Astor  House  in  order  to  be  in  easy 
reach  of  Newspaper  Row. 

He  used  to  tell  the  story  of  his  experience  on  that  occa- 
sion in  this  way:  "After  forcing  down  my  unrelished 
breakfast  on  the  morning  of  my  arrival  in  New  York,  I 
went  out  on  the  sidewalk  in  front  of  the  Astor  House,  and 
gave  a  bootblack  twenty-five  cents,  one  fifth  of  which  was 
to  pay  for  shining  my  shoes,  and  the  balance  was  a  fee  for 
the  privilege  of  talking  to  him.  I  felt  that  I  would  die  if 
I  did  not  talk  to  somebody.  Having  stimulated  myself  at 
that  doubtful  fountain  of  sympathy,  I  went  across  to  the 
Herald  office,  and  the  managing  editor  was  good  enough 
to  admit  me  to  his  sanctum.  It  happened  that  just  at  that 
time  several  of  the  Southern  States  were  holding  constitu- 
tional conventions.  The  Herald  manager  asked  me  if  I 
knew  anything  about  politics,  I  replied  that  I  knew  very 
little  about  anything  else.  'Well,'  said  he,  'sit  at  this 
desk  and  write  me  an  article  on  State  conventions  in  the 
South.'  With  these  words  he  tossed  me  a  pad  and  left 
me  alone  in  the  room.  When  my  task-master  returned,  I 
had  finished  the  article  and  was  leaning  back  in  the  chair 
with  my  feet  up  on  the  desk.  *  Why,  Mr.  Grady,  what  is 
the  matter?'  asked  the  managing  editor.  'Nothing,'  I 
replied,  '  except  that  I  am  through.'  '  Very  well,  leave 
your  copy  on  the  desk,  and  if  it  amounts  to  anything  I  will 
let  you  hear  from  me.  Where  are  you  stopping  ?'  '  I 
am  at  the  Astor  House.'  Early  the  next  morning  before 
getting  out  of  bed,  I  rang  for  a  hall-boy  and  ordered  the 
Herald.  I  actually  had  not  strength  to  get  up  and  dress 
myself,  until  I  could  see  whether  or  not  my  article  had 
been  used.  I  opened  the  Herald  with  a  trembling  hand, 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  77 

and  when  I  saw  that  '  State  Conventions  in  the  South ' 
was  on  the  editorial  page,  I  fell  back  on  the  bed,  buried 
my  face  in  the  pillow,  and  cried  like  a  child.  When  I  went 
back  to  the  Herald  office  that  day  the  managing  editor 
received  me  cordially  and  said,  '  You  can  go  back  to 
Georgia,  Mr.  Grady,  and  consider  yourself  in  the  employ 
of  the  Herald?" 

Almost  immediately  after  his  return  to  Atlanta,  he  was 
tendered,  and  gladly  accepted,  a  position  on  the  editorial 
staff  of  the  Atlanta  Constitution.  He  worked  vigorously 
for  the  New  York  Herald  for  five  years  as  its  Southern 
correspondent,  and  in  that  time  did  some  of  the  most  bril- 
liant work  that  has  ever  been  done  for  that  excellent 
journal. 

Notable  among  his  achievements  were  the  graphic 
reports  he  made  of  the  South  Carolina  riots  in  1876.  But 
the  special  work  which  gave  him  greatest  fame  Was  his 
exposure  of  the  election  frauds  in  Florida  that  same  year. 
He  secured  the  memorable  confession  of  Dennis  and  his 
associates,  and  his  report  of  it  to  the  Herald  was  exclusive. 
For  that  piece  of  work  alone,  Mr.  Bennett  paid  him  a  thou- 
sand dollars.  His  attachment  to  the  editorial  staff  of  the 
Atlanta  Constitution  gave  him  an  opportunity  to  impress 
himself  upon  the  people  of  Georgia,  which  he  did  with 
great  rapidity  and  power. 

In  1879,  he  came  to  New  York,  partly  for  recreation  and 
partly  for  the  purpose  of  writing  a  series  of  topical  letters 
from  Gotham.  While  here  he  was  introduced  by  Governor 
John  B.  Gordon  to  Cyrus  W.  Field.  Mr.  Field  was 
instantly  impressed  by  him,  and  liked  him  so  much  that 
he  loaned  him  twenty  thousand  dollars  with  which  to  buy 
one-fourth  interest  in  the  Atlanta  Constitution.  He  made 
the  purchase  promptly,  and  that  for  which  he  paid  twenty 
thousand  dollars  in  1880,  was  at  the  time  of  his  death  in 
1889  worth  at  least  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars. 
The  enormous  increase  in  the  value  of  the  Constitution 
during  his  identification  with  it  shows  nothing  more  plainly 
than  the  value  of  his  marvelous  work  in  its  service. 

Securing  an  interest  in  the  Atlanta  Constitution  may  be 


78  HENKY    \V.    CiKAJiV, 

said  t<>  have  fixed  liis  noble  destiny.  It  emancipated  his 
genius  from  the  bondage  of  poverty,  quickened  his  sensi- 
tive spirit  with  a  new  consciousness  of  power  for  good,  and 
inspired  him  to  untiring  service  in  the  widest  fields  of  use- 
fulness. He  saw  the  hand  of  God  in  the  favor  that  had 
blessed  him,  and  in  acknowledgment  of  the  Divine  provi- 
dence dedicated  his  life  to  the  cause  of  truth,  and  the 
uplifting  of  humanity.  Atlanta  was  his  home  altar,  and 
there  he  poured  out  the  best  libations  of  his  heart.  That 
thriving  city  to-day  has  no  municipal  advantage,  no  public 
improvement,  no  educational  institution,  no  industrial 
enterprise  which  does  not  either  owe  its  beginning  to  his 
readiness  of  suggestion,  or  its  mature  development  to  his 
sustaining  influence.  Its  streets  are  paved  with  his  energy 
and  devotion,  its  houses  are  built  in  the  comeliness  and 
fashion  that  he  inspired,  and  its  vast  business  interests  are 
established  in  the  prosperity  and  strength  that  he  foretold. 

Georgia  wras  the  pride  of  his  life,  and  for  the  increase 
of  her  peace  and  prosperity,  the  deepening  brotherhood  of 
her  people,  the  development  of  her  vast  mineral  resources, 
and  the  enrichment  of  her  varied  harvests,  he  wrote,  and 
talked,  and  prayed. 

The  whole  South  was  to  him  sacred  ground,  made  so 
both  by  the  heroic  death  of  his  father  and  the  precious 
birth  of  his  children.  By  the  former,  he  felt  all  the  mem- 
ories and  traditions  of  the  Old  South  to  have  been  sancti- 
fied, and  by  the  latter  he  felt  all  the  hopes  and  aspirations 
of  the  New  South  to  have  been  beautified.  And  thus  with 
a  personality  altogether  unique,  and  a  genius  thoroughly 
rare,  he  stood  like  a  magical  link  between  the  past  and  the 
future.  Turning  toward  the  days  that  were  gone,  he  sealed 
them  with  a  holy  kiss  ;  and  then  looking  toward  the  time 
that  had  not  yet  come,  he  conjured  it  with  a  voice  of 
prophecy. 

In  politics  he  was  an  undeniable  leader,  and  yet  never 
held  office.  High  places  were  pressed  for  his  acceptance 
times  without  number,  but  he  always  resolutely  put  them 
away  from  him,  insisting  that  office  had  no  charm  for  him. 
He  could  have  gone  to  Congress,  as  representative  from  the 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND    SPEECHES.  79 

State  at  large,  if  he  would  only  have  consented  to  serve. 
His  name  was  repeatedly  suggested  for  the  governorship 
of  Georgia,  but  he  invariably  suppressed  the  idea  promptly, 
urging  his  friends  to  leave  him  at  peace  in  his  private  station. 

In  spite  of  his  indifference  to  all  political  preferment,  it 
is  universally  believed  in  Georgia,  that  had  he  lived,  he 
would  have  soon  been  sent  to  the  United  States  Senate. 
Although  he  had  no  love  of  office  for  himself,  he  was  the 
incomparable  Warwick  of  his  day.  He  was  almost  an 
absolute  dictator  in  Georgia'  politics.  No  man  cared  to 
stand  for  election  to  any  place,  high  or  low,  unless  he  felt 
Grady  was  with  him.  He  certainly  was  the  most  powerful 
factor  in  the  election  of  two  Governors,  and  practically 
gave  more  than  one  United  States  Senator  his  seat.  His 
power  extended  all  over  the  State. 

Such  a  man  could  not  be  held  within  the  narrow  limits 
of  local  reputation.  It  mattered  not  how  far  he  traveled 
from  home,  he  made  himself  quickly  known  by  the  power 
of  his  impressive  individuality,  or  by  some  splendid  exhi- 
bition of  his  genius. 

By  two  speeches,  one  made  at  a  banquet  of  the  New 
England  Society  in  New  York  City,  and  the  other  at  a 
State  fair  at  Dallas,  Texas,  he  achieved  for  himself  a  rep- 
utation which  spanned  the  continent.  The  most  magnifi- 
cent effort  of  eloquence  which  he  ever  made  was  the  soul- 
stirring  speech  delivered  in  Boston  on  "  The  Race  Prob- 
lem," just  ten  days  before  he  died.  These  three  speeches 
were  enough  to  confirm  and  perpetuate  his  fame  as  a  sur- 
passing orator. 

It  is  impossible  to  give  any  adequate  idea  of  Henry 
Grady' s  largeness  of  heart,  nobility  of  soul,  and  brilliancy 
of  mind.  Those  three  elements  combined  in  royal  abun- 
dance to  make  his  princely  nature. 

When  Georgia's  great  triumvirate  died,  their  spirits 
seemed  to  linger  on  earth  in  the  being  of  Henry  W.  Grady. 
While  he  lived  he  perpetuated  the  political  sagacity  of 
Alexander  H.  Stephens,  the  consummate  genius  of  Robert 
Toombs,  and  the  impassioned  eloquence  of  Benjamin  H. 
Hill. 


80  HMNliY    W.    GRADY, 

True  greatness  is  immortal.  Real  patriotic  pnrp< 
are  never  swallowed  up  in  <l»-ath.  (Jood  works  wt-11  lit-umi 
live  long  after  their  praiseworthy  originators  have  ascended 
in  glory.  If  there  is  any  truth  in  these  reflections,  they 
are  precious  and  priceless  to  all  who  mourn  the  untimely 
taking  off  of  Henry  Woodfin  Grady. 

His  sudden  death  struck  grief  to  all  true-hearted  Ameri- 
can citizens.  In  him  was  combined  such  breadth  of  useful- 
ness and  brilliancy  of  genius,  that  he  illumined  the  critical 
period  of  American  history  in  which  he  lived,  and  set  the 
firmament  of  our  national  glory  with  many  a  new  and  shin- 
ing star  of  promise.  This  century,  though  old  in  its  last 
quarter,  has  given  birth  to  but  one  Henry  Woodfin  Grady, 
and  it  will  close  its  eyes  long  before  his  second  self  is  seen. 

A  hundred  years  hence,  when  sweet  charity  is  stemming 
the  tides  of  suffering  in  the  world,  if  truth  is  not  dumb, 
she  will  say :  This  blessed  work  is  an  echo  from  Henry 
Grady' s  life  on  earth.  A  hundred  years  hence,  when 
friendship  is  building  high  her  altars  of  self-sacrifice  in  the 
name  of  love  and  loyalty,  if  truth  is  not  dumb,  she  will 
say :  This  beautiful  service  is  going  on  as  a  perpetual 
memorial  to  Henry  Grady' s  life  on  earth.  A  hundred 
years  hence,  when  all  the  South  shall  have  been  enriched 
by  the  development  of  her  vast  natural  resources,  if  truth 
is  not  dumb,  she  will  say  :  This  is  the  legitimate  fruit  of 
Henry  Grady' s  labor  of  love  while  he  lived  on  earth.  A 
hundred  years  hence,  when  patriotism  shall  have  beaten 
down  all  sectional  and  partisan  prejudice,  and  the  burning 
problems  that  press  upon  our  national  heart  to-day  shall 
have  been  "solved  in  patience  and  fairness,"  if  truth  is  not 
dumb,  she  will  say :  This  is  the  glorious  verification  of 
Henry  Grady' s  prophetic  utterances  while  on  earth.  And 
when  in  God's  own  appointed  time  this  nation  shall  lead 
all  other  nations  of  the  earth  in  the  triumphal  march  of 
prosperous  peoples  under  perfect  governments,  if  truth  is 
not  dumb,  she  will  say  :  This  is  the  free,  full  and  complete 
answer  to  Henry  Grady' s  impassioned  prayer  while  on 
earth. 


SPEECHES. 


THE  NEW  SOUTH. 


O 


N   THE   21ST   OF    DECEMBER,  1886,  MR.  GRADY,   IN 
RESPONSE  TO  AN   URGENT    INVITATION,  DKLIVEKKD 
THK  FOLLOWING  ADDRESS  AT  THE  BANQUET  OF  THE 
NEW  ENGLAND  CLUB,  NEW  YORK: 


"There  was  a  South  of  slavery  and  secession — that 
South  is  dead.  There  is  a  South  of  union  and  freedom — 
that  South,  thank  God,  is  living,  breathing,  growing  every 
hour."  These  words,  delivered  from  the  immortal  lips  of 
Benjamin  H.  Hill,  at  Tammany  Hall,  in  1866,  true  then 
and  truer  now,  I  shall  make  my  text  to-night. 

Mr.  President  and  Gentlemen :  Let  me  express  to  you 
my  appreciation  of  the  kindness  by  which  I  am  permitted 
to  address  you.  I  make  this  abrupt  acknowledgment  ad- 
visedly, for  I  feel  that  if,  when  I  raise  my  provincial  voice 
in  this  ancient  and  august  presence,  I  could  find  courage 
for  no  more  than  the  opening  sentence,  it  would  be  well  if 
in  that  sentence  I  had  met  in  a  rough  sense  my  obligation 
as  a  guest,  and  had  perished,  so  to  speak,  with  courtesy  on 
my  lips  and  grace  in  my  heart.  Permitted,  through  your 
kindness,  to  catch  my  second  wind,  let  me  say  that  I  appre- 
ciate the  significance  of  being  the  first  Southerner  to  speak 
at  this  board,  which  bears  the  substance,  if  it  surpasses  the 
semblance,  of  original  New  England  hospitality — and  hon- 
ors the  sentiment  that  in  turn  honors  you,  but  in  which 
my  personality  is  lost,  and  the  compliment  to  my  people 
made  plain. 

I  bespeak  the  utmost  stretch  of  your  courtesy  to-night. 
I  am  not  troubled  about  those  from  whom  I  come.  You 

83 


HENRY  \v.  «, I:\DV, 

remember  tli»-  man  whose  wife  sent  liirn  to  a  neighbor  with 
a  pitcher  of  milk,  ami  who,  tripping  on  the  top  step,  Ml 
with  such  casual  interruptions  as  tin-  landings  a  11'orded 
into  tin-  basement,  and,  while  picking  hinisell'  up,  had  the 
pleasure  of  hearing  his  wife  call  out  :  •'  John,  did  you 
break  the  pitcher  (  " 

"No,  1  didn't/'  said  John,  "btti  I'll  be  dinged  if  I 
don't" 

So,  while  those  \\ho  call  me  from  In-hind  may  inspire 
me  with  energy,  if  not  with  courage,  1  a-^k  an  indulgent 
hearing  from  you.  I  beg  that  you  will  bring  your  full 
J'aitli  in  American  fairness  and  frankness  to  judgment 
upon  what  I  shall  say.  There  was  an  old  preacher  once 
who  told  some  boys  of  the  Bible  lesson  he  was  going  to 
read  in  the  morning.  The  boys,  finding  the  place,  glued 
;  her  the  connecting  pages.  The  next  morning  he  read 
on  the  bottom  of  one  page,  "When  Noah  was  one  hundred 
and  twenty  years  old  lie  took  unto  himself  a  wife,  who 
was  "  —then  turning  the  page — "  140  cubits  long — 40 cubits 
wide,  built  of  gopher  wood — and  covered  with  pitch  inside 
and  out."  He  was  naturally  puz/led  at  this.  He  read  it 
again,  verified  if,  and  then  said  :  "My  friends,  this  is  the 
lirst  time  I  ever  met  this  in  the  Bible,  but  I  accept  thN  aa 
an  evidence  of  the  assertion  that  we  are  fearfully  and 
wonderfully  made."  If  I  could  get  you  to  hold  such 
faith  to-night  I  could  proceed  cheerfully  to  the  task  I 
otherwise  approach  with  a  sense  of  consecration. 

Pardon  me  one  word,  Mr.  President,  spoken  for  the 
sole  purpose  of  getting  into  the  volumes  that  go  out  an- 
nually freighted  with  the  rich  eloquence  of  your  speak- 
er- the  fact  that  the  Cavalier  as  well  as  the  Puritan  was 
on  the  continent  in  its  early  days,  and  that  he  was  "  up 
and  able  to  be  about."  I  have  read  your  books  carefully 
and  I  find  no  mention  of  that  fact,  which  seems  to  me  an 
important  one  for  preserving  a  sort  of  historical  equili- 
brium if  for  nothing  else. 

Let  me  remind  you  that  the  Virginia  Cavalier  first 
challenged  France  on  the  continent — that  Cavalier,  John 


HIS    LIFK,    WRITINGS,    AND    SI'KKCII  ]•>.  85 

Smith,  gave  New  England  its  very  11:11110,  and  was  so 
pleased  with  the  job  that  lie  has  been  handing  his  own 
name  around  ever  since — and  that  while  Myles  Siandish 
was  cutting  off  men's  ears  for  courting  a  girl  without  her 
parents'  consent,  and  forbade  men  to  kiss  their  wives  on 
Sunday,  the  Cavalier  was  court  ing  everything  in  sight,  and 
that  the  Almighty  had  vouchsafed  great  increase  to  the 
Cavalier  colonies,  the  huts  in  the  wilderness  being  as  full 
as  the  nests  in  the  woods. 

But  having  incorporated  the  Cavalier  as  a  fact  in  your 
charming  little  books,  I  shall  let  him  work  out  his  own  sal- 
vation, as  he  has  always  done,  with  engaging  gallantry,  and 
we  will  hold  no  controversy  as  to  his  merits.  Why  should 
we  2  Neither  Puritan  nor  Cavalier  long  survived  as  such. 
The  virtues  and  good  traditions  of  both  happily  still  live 
for  the  inspiration  of  their  sons  and  the  saving  of  the  old 
fashion.  But  both  Puritan  and  Cavalier  Avere  lost  in  the 
storm  of  the  first  lievolution,,and  the  American  citizen,  sup- 
planting both  and  stronger  than  either,  took  possession  of 
the  republic  bought  by  their  common  blood  and  fashioned 
to  wisdom,  and  charged  himself  with  teaching  men  govern- 
ment and  establishing  the  voice  of  the  people  as  the  voice 
of  God. 

My  friends,  Dr.  Talmage  has  told  yon  that  the  typical 
American  has  yet  to  come.  Let  me  tell  you  that  he  has 
already  come.  Great  types,  like  valuable  plants,  are  slow 
to  flower  and  fruit.  But  from  the  union  of  these  colonists, 
Puritans  and  Cavaliers,  from  the  straightening  of  their 
purposes  and  the  crossing  of  their  blood,  slow  perfecting 
through  a  century,  came  he  who  stands  as  the  first  typical 
American,  the  first  who  comprehended  within  himself  all 
the  strength  and  gentleness,  all  the  majesty  and  grace  of 
this  republic — Abraham  Lincoln.  He  was  the  sum  of  Puri- 
tan and  Cavalier,  for  in  his  ardent  nature  were  fused  the 
virtues  of  both,  and  in  the  depths  of  his  great  soul  the 
faults  of  both  were  lost.  lie  was  greater  than  Puritan, 
greater  than  Cavalier,  in  that  he  was  American,  and  that 
in  his  honest  form  were  first  gathered  the  vast  and  thrill- 


86  IIKMIV     \V.    (.KADV, 

in--  forces  of  his  ideal  government— charging  il  \vitli  such 
tremendous  meaning  and  elevating  il  above  human  suffer- 
ing thai  martyrdom,  though  infamous] y  aimed,  came  a>  a 
liniim-  crown  to  a  life  consecrated  from  the  cradle  to  human 
liberty.  Let  us,  each  cherishing  the  traditions  and  honor- 
ing liis  fathers.  l)iiild  with  reverent-  hands  to  the  type  of 
this  simple  but  sublime  life,  in  which  all  types  are  honored, 
and  in  our  common  glory  as  Americans  there  will  be  plenty 
and  to  spare  for  your  forefathers  and  for  mine. 

DI-.  Talmage  has  drawn  for  you,  with  a  master's  hand, 
the  picture  of  your  returning  armies.  He  has  told  you 
how,  in  the  pomp  and  circumstance  of  war,  they  came 
back  to  you,  marching  with  proud  and  victorious  tread, 
reading  their  glory  in  a  nation's  eyes!  Will  you  bear 
with  me  while  I  tell  you  of  another  army  that  sought  its 
home  at  t  lie  close  of  the  late  war— an  army  that  marched 
home  in  defeat  and  not  in  victory — in  pathos  and  not  in 
splendor,  but  in  glory  that  equaled  yours,  and  to  hearts  as 
loving  as  ever  welcomed  heroes  home  !  Let  me  picture  to 
you  the  footsore  Confederate  soldier,  as  buttoning  up  in 
his  faded  gray  jacket  the  parole  which  was  to  bear  testi- 
mony to  his  children  of  his  fidelity  and  faith,  he  turned  his 
face  southward  from  Appomatox  in  April,  1865.  Think 
of  him  as  ragged,  half-starved,  heavy-hearted,  enfeebled 
by  \\ant  and  wounds,  having  fought  to  exhaustion,  he  sur- 
renders his  gun,  wrings  the  hands  of  his  comrades  in 
silence,  and  lifting  his  tear-stained  and  pallid  face  for  the 
last  time  to  the  graves  that  dot,  old  Virginia  hills,  pulls 
his  gray  cap  over  his  brow  and  begins  the  slow  and  painful 
journey.  What  does  he  find — let  me  ask  you  who  went 
to  your  homes  eager  to  find,  in  the  welcome  you  had 
justly  earned,  full  payment  for  four  years'  sacrifice — what 
docs  he  lind  when,  having  followed  the  battle-stained  cross 
against  overwhelming  odds,  dreading  death  not  half  so 
much  as  surrender,  he  reaches  the  home  he  left  so  prosper- 
ous and  beautiful?  He  finds  his  house  in  ruins,  his  farm 
devastated,  his  slaves  free,  his  stock  killed,  his  barns 
empty,  his  trade  destroyed,  his  money  worthless,  his  social 


HIS    LIFK,     WKITINCS,     AND    SI'KKC  II  MS.  g? 

system,  feudal  in  its  magnificence,  swept  away;  his  peo- 
ple without  law  or  Ic^al  slalus;  his  comrades  slain,  and 
the  burdens  of  others  ln-avy  on  his  shoulders.  Cruslied 
by  defeat,  his  very  traditions  are  gone.  AVithout  money, 
credit,  employment,  material,  or  training ;  and  beside  ;dl 
1his,  confronted  with  the  Bravest  problem  that  ever  met 
human  intelligence — the  establishing  of  a  status  for  the 
vast  body  of  his  liberated  slaves. 

\Vhat  does  he  do — this  hero  in  gray  with  a  heart  of 
gold  \  Does  he  sit  down  in  sullenness  and  despair'*  Not 
for  a  day.  Surely  God,  who  had  stripped  him  of  his  pros- 
perity, inspired  him  in  his  adversity.  As  ruin  was  never 
before  so  overwhelming,  never  was  restoration  swifter. 
The  soldier  stepped  from  the  trenches  into  the  furrow  ; 
horses  that  had  charged  Federal  guns  marched  before  the 
plow,  and  iields  that  ran  red  with  human  blood  in  April 
were  ureeii  with  the  harvest  in  June  ;  women  reared  in 
luxury  cut  up  their  dresses  and  made  breeches  for  their 
husbands,  and,  with  a  patience  and  heroism  that  fit  women 
always  as  a  garment,  gave  their  hands  to  work.  There 
was  little  bitterness  in  all  this.  Cheerfulness  and  frank- 
ness prevailed.  "  Bill  Arp"  struck  the  key-note  when  he 
said  :  u  Well,  I  killed  as  many  of  them  as  they  did  of  me, 
and  now  I'm  going  to  work."  Of  the  soldier  returning 
home  after  defeat  and  roasting  some  corn  on  the  roadside, 
who  made  the  remark  to  his  comrades:  "  You  may  leave 
the  South  if  you  want  to,  but  I  am  going  to  Sandersville. 
kiss  my  wife  and  raise  a  crop,  and  if  the  Yankees  fool  with 
me  any  more,  I'll  whip  'em  again."  I  want  to  say  to 
General  Sherman,  who  is  considered  an  able  man  in  our 
parts,  though  some  people  think  he  is  a  kind  of  careless 
man  about  fire,  that  from  the  ashes  he  left  us  in  1864  we 
have  raised  a  brave  and  beautiful  city;  that  somehow  or 
other  we  have  caught  the  sunshine  in  the  bricks  and  mor- 
tar of  our  homes,  and  have  builded  therein  not  one  ignoble 
prejudice  or  memory. 

But  what  is  the  sum  of  our  work  ?  AVe  have  found  out 
that  in  the  summing  up  the  free  negro  counts  more  than  he 


S8  III:M:Y    \v.   OKADY, 

did  MS  :i  slave.  \Yehave  ])l;iuted  the  schoolhouse  on  the 
hilltop  and  made  it  fr<-.-  to  white  and  black.  \Ve  have 
sowed  towns  and  cit  ies  in  the  place  of  I  heories,  and  put  bus- 
iness above  politics.  \Ye  have  challenged  your  spinners  in 
Mas>aclinsri  is  and  your  iron-linkers  in  Pennsylvania.  \Ve 
have  le.-irned  that  the  s  loo,  <)<)(),<>()<)  annually  received  from 
our  cotton  crop  will  make  us  rich  when  the  supplies  that 
make  il  aiv  home-raised.  \Ye  have  reduced  tin-  commercial 
rale  of  interest,  from  "J  I  to  (5  per  cent.,  and  are  lloat  iiii:  -1  pel- 
cent,  bonds.  We  have  leal-lied  that  one  norl  hern  immigrant 
is  worth  fifty  foreigners;  and  have  smoothed  the  path  to 
southward,  wiped  out  the  place  where  .Mason  and  Dixon's 
line  used  to  be,  and  hung  out  latchstring  to  you  and  yours. 
\\V  have  reached  the  point  that  marks  perfect  harmony  in 
every  household,  when  the  husband  confesses  that  the  pies 
which  liis  wife  cooks  are  as  good  as  those  his  mother  \\^-<[ 
to  bake;  and  we  admit  that  the  sun  shines  as  brightly  and 
the  moon  as  softly  as  it  did  before  the  war.  We  have 
established  thrift  in  city  and  country.  We  have  fallen  in 
love  Avith  work.  We  have  restored  comfort  to  homes  from 
which  culture  and  elegance  never  departed.  We  have  let 
economy  take  root  and  spread  among  us  as  rank  as  the  crab- 
grass  which  sprung  from  Sherman's  cavalry  camps,  until 
we  are  ready  to  lay  odds  on  the  Georgia  Yankee  as  he  manu- 
factures relics  of  the  battlefield  in  a  one-story  shanty  and 
squeezes  pure  olive  oil  out  of  his  cotton  seed,  against  any 
down-caster  that  ever  swapped  wooden  nutmegs  for  flannel 
sausage  in  the  valleys  of  Vermont.  Above  all,  we  know  that 
we  have  achieved  in  t  hese  u  piping  times  of  peace  "  a  fuller 
independence  for  the  South  than  that  which  our  fathers 
sought  to  win  in  1  he  forum  by  t  heir  eloquence  or  compel  in 
the  field  by  their  swords. 

It  is  a,  rare  privilege,  sir,  to  have  had  part,  however 
humble,  in  this  work.  Never  was  nobler  duty  confided  to 
human  hands  than  the  uplifting  and  upbuilding  of  the 
prostrate  and  bleeding  South — misguided,  perhaps,  but 
beautiful  in  her  siilfering.  and  honest,  brave  and  generous 
always,  luthe  record  of  her  social,  industrial  and  political 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  89 

illustration  we  await  with  confidence  the  verdict  of  the 
world. 

But  what  of  the  negro?  Have  we  solved  the  problem 
he  presents  or  progressed  in  honor  and  equity  toward  solu- 
tion? Let  the  record  speak  to  the  point.  JN'o  section 
shows  a  more  prosperous  laboring  population  than  the 
negroes  of  the  South,  none  in  fuller  sympathy  with  the  cm- 
ploying  and  land-owning  class,  lie  shares  our  school  fund, 
has  the  fullest  protection  of  our  laws  and  the  friendship 
of  our  people.  Self-interest,  as  well  as  honor,  demand 
that  he  should  have  this.  Our  future,  our  very  exis- 
tence depend  upon  our  working  out  this  problem  in  full 
and  exact  justice.  We  understand  that  when  Lincoln 
signed  the  emancipation  proclamation,  your  victory  was 
assured,  for  he  then  committed  you  to  the  cause  of  hu- 
man liberty,  against  which  the  arms  of  man  cannot  pre- 
vail— while  those  of  our  statesmen  wrho  trusted  to  make; 
slavery  the  corner-stone  of  the  Confederacy  doomed  us  to 
defeat  as  far  as  they  could,  committing  us  to  a  cause  that 
reason  could  not  defend  or  the  sword  maintain  in  sight 
of  advancing  civilization. 

Had  Mr.  Toombs  said,  which  he  did  not  say,  "  that  he 
would  call  the  roll  of  his  slaves  at  the  foot  of  Bunker 
Hill,"  he  would  have  been  foolish,  for  he  might  have 
known  that  whenever  slavery  became  entangled  in  war  it 
must  perish,  and  that  the  chattel  in  human  flesh  ended 
forever  in  New  England  when  your  fathers — not  to  be 
blamed  for  parting  with  what  didn't  pay — sold  their  slaves 
to  our  fathers — not  to  be  praised  for  knowing  a  paying 
thing  when  they  saw  it.  The  relations  of  the  southern 
people  with  the  negro  are  close  and  cordial.  We  remem- 
ber with  what  fidelity  for  four  years  he  guarded  our  de- 
fenseless women  and  children,  whose  husbands  and  fathers 
were  fighting  against  his  freedom.  To  his  eternal  credit 
be  it  said  that  whenever  he  struck  a  blow  for  his  own  lib- 
erty he  fought  in  open  bat  I  le,  and  when  at  last  he  raised 
his  black  and  humble  hands  lhat  the  shackles  might  be 
struck  off,  those  hands  were  innocent  of  wrong  against  his 


III.NKV   w.   <;i:.\i»v. 

helpless  charges,  and  worthy  to  be  taken  in  loving  gnisp 
t>\  every  iiKin  who  honors  loyalty  and  devotion.  JJiillians 
have  maltreated  him.  rascals  have  misled  him,  philant hro- 
pi-ts  established  a  hank  for  him,  but  tin-  South,  witli  tin- 
No!  I  h,  protects  against  injustice  to  this  simple  and  sincere 
people.  To  liberty  and  enfranchisement,  is  as  far  as  law 
can  carry  the  negro.  The  rest  must  be  left  to  conscience 
and  common  sense.  It  must  be  left  to  those  among  whom 
his  lot  is  cast,  with  whom  he  is  indissolubly  connected,  and 
whose  prosperity  depends  upon  their  possessing  his  intelli- 
gent sympathy  and  confidence.  Faith  has  been  kepi  with 
him,  in  spite  of  calumnious  assertions  to  the  contrary  by 
those  who  assume  to  speak  for  us  or  by  frank  opponents. 
Faith  will  be  kept  with  him  in  the  future,  if  the  South 
holds  her  reason  and  integrity. 

But  have  we  kept  faith  with  you  ?  In  the  fullest  sense, 
yes.  When  Lee  surrendered — I  don't  say  when  .Johnson 
surrendered,  because  I  understand  he  still  alludes  to  the 
time  when  he  met  General  Sherman  last  as  the  time  when 
he  determined  to  abandon  any  further  prosecution  of  the. 
struggle— when  Lee  surrendered,  I  say,  and  Johnson  quit, 
the  South  became,  and  has  since  been,  loyal  to  this  I  nion. 
We  fought  hard  enough  to  know  that  we  were  whipped. 
and  in  perfect  frankness  accept  as  final  the  arbitrament  of 
the  sword  to  which  we  had  appealed.  The  South  found 
her  jewel  in  the  toad's  head  of  defeat.  The  shackles  that 
had  held  her  in  narrow  limitations  fell  forever  when  the 
shackles  of  the  negro  slave  were  broken.  Under  the  old 
regime  the  negroes  were  slaves  to  the  South  ;  the  South  was 
a  slave  to  the  system.  The  old  plantation,  with  its  simple 
police  regulations  and  feudal  habit,  was  the  only  type  \««- 
sible  under  slavery.  Thus  was  gathered  in  the  hands  of  a 
splendid  and  chivalric  oligarchy  the  substance  that  should 
have  been  diffuse!  nmoim-  the  people,  as  the  rich  l)lood, 
under  certain  artificial  conditions,  is  gathered  at  the  heart. 
filling  th.-it  with  affluent  rapture  but  leaving  the  body  chill 
and  colorless. 

The  old  South  rested  everything  on  slavery  and  agricul- 


HIS    I.1FK,     \VIMTI  \<;S,     AND    Sl'KI-H  'I  I  MS. 

tiii«-,  unconscious  that  these  could  neither  give  nor  maintain 

healthy  growth.  The  nt>\v  South  presents;)  perfect  demo- 
cracy, the  oligarchs  leading  in  the  popular  movement — a 
social  system  compact  and  closely  knitted,  less  splendid 
on  the  surface,  but  stronger  at  tin;  core — a  hundred  farms 
for  every  plantation,  fifty  homes  for  every  palace — and  a 
diver.siiinl  industry  that  meets  the  complex  need  of  this 
complex  age. 

The  new  South  is  enamored  of  lier  new  work.  Her  soul 
is  stirred  with  (he  breath  of  a  new  life.  The  light  of  a 
grander  day  is  falling  fair  on  her  face.  She  is  thrilling 
with  the  consciousness  of  growing  power  and  prosperity. 
As  she  stands  upright,  fiill-statured  and  equal  among  the 
people  of  the  earth,  breathing  the  keen  air  and  looking 
out  upon  the  expanded  horizon,  she  understands  that  her 
emancipation  came  because  through  the  inscrutable  wis- 
dom of  God  her  honest  purpose  was  crossed,  and  her  brave 
armies  were  beaten. 

This  is  said  in  no  spirit  of  time-serving  or  apology.  The 
South  has  nothing  for  which  to  apologize.  She  believes 
that  the  late  struggle  between  the  States  was  war  and  not 
rebellion  ;  revolution  and  not  conspiracy,  and  that  her  con- 
victions were  as  honest  as  yours.  I  should  be  unjust  to 
the  dauntless  spirit  of  the  South  and  to  my  own  convictions 
if  I  did  not  make  this  plain  in  this  presence.  The  South 
has  nothing  to  take  back.  In  my  native  town  of  Athens  is 
a  monument  that  crowns  its  central  hill — a  plain,  white 
shaft.  Deep  cut  into  its  shining  side  is  a  name  dear  to  me 
above  the  names  of  men — that  of  a  brave  and  simple  man 
who  died  in  brave  and  simple  faith.  Not  for  all  the  glories 
of  New  England,  from  Plymouth  Rock  all  the  way,  would 
I  exchange  the  heritage  he  left  me  in  his  soldier's  death. 
To  the  foot  of  that  I  shall  send  my  children's  children  to 
reverence  him  who  ennobled  their  name  with  his  heroic 
blood.  r>iit,  sir.  speaking  from  the  shadow  of  that  memory 
v,  Inch  I  honor  as  I  do  nothing  else  on  earth,  I  say  that  the 
cause  in  which  he  suffered  and  for  which  he  gave  his  life 
was  adjudged  by  higher  and  fuller  wisdom  than  his  or 


92  III:M:V   w.   <.  i:\nv, 

mill"',  and  I  ;nii  glad  that  the  omniscient  (rod  held  the 
balance  of  battle  in  Bi9  Almighty  hand  and  that  human 
slavery  was  suept  forever  from  American  soil,  the  American 
I'liion  wafl  saved  from  tin-  wreck  of  war. 

This  in-  '  I  r.  President,  comes  to  you  from  conse- 

crated ground.  Kvery  foot  of  soil  about  |  he  city  in  which 
1  live  j-,  ,-is  sacred  as  a  hat  t  le-groimd  of  the  republic.  Kvery 
hill  that  invents  ii  is  hallowed  to  you  l>y  the  blood  of  your 
brothers  who  died  for  your  victory,  and  doubly  hallowed, 
to  us  by  the  blow  of  those  who  died  hopeless,  but  un- 
daunted, in  defeat— xi cr.-d  soil  to  all  of  us  rich  with  mem- 
ories that  make  us  purer  and  stronger  and  better- silent 
but  staunch  witnesses  in  its  red  desolation  of  the  matchless 
valor  of  American  hearts  and  the  deathless  ;:lory  of  Ameri- 
can arms  speaking  an  eloquent  witness  in  its  white  peace 
and  prosperity  to  the  indissoluble  union  of  American  States 
and  the  imperishable  brotherhood  of  the  American  people. 

Now,  what  answer  has  New  England  to  this  mess;,. 
\Yill  she  permit  the  prejudice  of  war  to  remain  in  the 
hearts  of  the  conquerors,  when  it  has  died  in  the  hearts  of 
the  conquered  ?  Will  she  transmit  this  prejudice  to  the 
next  generation,  that  in  their  hearts  which  never  felt  the 
generous  ardor  of  conflict  it  may  perpetuate  itself;  ^Vill 
she  withhold,  save  in  strained  courtesy,  the  hand  which 
straight  from  his  soldier's  heart  (irant  offered  to  Lee  at 
Appomatox  (  \Vill  she  make  the  vision  of  a  restored  and 
happy  people,  which  gathered  above  the  couch  of  your 
dying  captain,  iilling  his  heart  with  grace;  touching  his 
lips  with  praise,  and  glorifying  his  path  to  the  grave — 
will  she  make  this  vision  on  which  the  last  sigh  of  his 
expiring  soul  breathed  a  benediction,  a  client  and  delu- 
sion? If  she  does,  the  South,  never  abject-  in  asking  for 
comradeship,  must  accept  with  dignity  its  refusal  :  but  if 
she  dors  not  refuse  to  ace. -jit  in  frankness  and  sincerity 
this  message  of  good  will  and  friendship,  then  will  the 
prophecy  <>r  \Vebster,  delivered  in  this  very  society  forty 
years  a.u'o  amid  tremendous  applause,  become  true,  be  vri- 
ii  its  fullest  sense,  when  he  said  :  "Standing  hand  to 


HIS  LIFK,    WAITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES. 

hand  and  clasping  liands,  \ve  sliould  remain  united  as  \ve 
have  be<>n  Tor  sixty  years,  citi/ens  of  the  same  country, 
members  of  the  same  government,  united,  all  united  now 
and  united  forever.*'  There  have  been  difficulties,  con 
tentions,  and  controversies,  but  I  tell  you  that  in  my 
judgment, 

"  Those  opened  eyes, 

Which  like  the  meteors  of  a  troubled  heaven, 
All  of  one  nature,  of  one  substance  bred, 
Did  lately  meet  in  th1  intestine  shock, 
Shall  no\v,  in  mutual  well  beseeming  ranks, 
March  all  one  way." 


III:M:V  \\ . 


THE  SOUTH  AND  HER  PROBLEMS. 


A1 


T  THE  DALLAS.  Ti  XAS,  STATE  FAN:.  o\  TIM-:  -M'/m  OF 
()<TOI;I;I;,    ]s>7.    Mi:.    GKADY    WAS  Tin:  OKATOK   OF 
THE  DAY.     UK  SAID  : 


"Who  saves  liis  country,  saves  all  things,  and  all  things  saved  will 
him.     Who  lets  his  country  die,  lets  all  things  die,  and  all  things 
dying  curse  him." 

These  words  an-  graven  on  the  statue  of  Benjamin  H. 
Hill  in  the  city  of  Atlanta,  and  in  their  spirit  I  shall  speak 
to  you  to-day. 

Mr.  President  and  Fellow-Citizens  :  I  salute  the  first 
city  of  the  grandest  State  of  the  greatest  government  on 
this  earth.  In  paying  earnest  compliment  to  this  thriv- 
ing city,  and  this  generous  multitude,  I  need  not  cumber 
speech  with  argument  or  statistics.  It  is  enough  to  say 
that  my  friends  and  myself  make  obeisance  thismorningto 
the  chief  metropolis  of  the  State  of  Texas.  If  it  but  holds 
tli is  pre-eminence — and  who  can  doubt  in  this  auspicious 
presence  that  it  will — the  uprising  tides  of  'IVxas's  pros- 
perity will  cany  it  to  glories  unspeakable.  For  1  say  in 
soberness,  the  future  of  this  marvelous  and  ama/ing  em- 
pire, that  gives  broader  and  deeper  signi  licence  to  stale- 
hood  by  accepting  its  modest  naming,  the  mind  of  man 
can  neither  measure  nor  comprehend. 

I  shall  be  pardoned  for  resisting  the  inspiration  of 
this  presence  and  adhering  to-day  to  blunt  and  rigorous 
speech — for  there  are  times  when  line  words  are  pal  My.  and 
this  seems  to  me  to  be  such  a  time.  So  I  shall  turn  away 


His  LIFE,  WRITINGS,  AKD  SPEKCIII-.S.  £5 

from  the  thunders  of  the  political  battle  upon  which  every 
American  hangs  intent,  and  repress  the  ardor  that  at  this 
time  rises  in  every  American  heart — for  there  are  issues 
that  strike  deeper  than  any  political  theory  has  reached, 
and  conditions  of  which  partisanry  has  taken,  and  can 
take,  but  little  account.  Let  me,  therefore,  with  studied 
plainness,  and  with  such  precision  as  is  possible — in  a 
spirit  of  fraternity  that  is  broader  than  party  limitations, 
and  deeper  than  political  motive — discuss  with  you  certain 
problems  upon  the  wise  and  prompt  solution  of  which 
depends  the  glory  and  prosperity  of  the  South. 

But  why — for  let  us  make  our  way  slowly — why  "  the 
South."  In  an  indivisible  union — in  a  republic  against  the 
integrity  of  which  sword  shall  never  be  drawn  or  mortal 
hand  uplifted,  and  in  which  the  rich  blood  gathering  at 
the  common  heart  is  sent  throbbing  into  every  part  of  the 
body  politic — why  is  one  section  held  separated  from  the 
rest  in  alien  consideration  ?  We  can  understand  why  this 
should  be  so  in  a  city  that  has  a  community  of  local  inter- 
ests ;  or  in  a  State  still  clothed  in  that  sovereignty  of 
which  the  debates  of  peace  and  the  storm  of  war  has  not 
stripped  her.  But  why  should  a  number  of  States,  stretch- 
ing from  Richmond  to  Galveston,  bound  together  by  no 
local  interests,  held  in  no  autonomy,  be  thus  combined  and 
drawn  to  a  common  center?  That  man  would  be  absurd 
who  declaimed  in  Buffalo  against  the  wrongs  of  the  Middle 
States,  or  who  demanded  in  Chicago  a  convention  for  the 
West  to  consider  the  needs  of  that  section.  If  then  it  be 
provincialism  that  holds  the  South  together,  let  us  outgrow 
it ;  if  it  be  sectionalism,  let  us  root  it  out  of  our  hearts  ; 
but  if  it  be  something  deeper  than  these  and  essential  to 
our  system,  let  us  declare  it  with  frankness,  consider  it 
with  respect,  defend  it  with  firmness,  and  in  dignity  abide 
its  consequence.  What  is  it  that  holds  the  southern 
States — though  true  in  thought  and  deed  to  the  Union— 
so  closely  bound  in  sympathy  to-day  ?  For  a  century  these 
States  championed  a  governmental  theory — but  that,  hav- 
ing triumphed  in  every  forum,  fell  at  last  by  the  sword. 


HKNKY    W.    GRADY, 

They  maintained  an  institution  but  that,  having  been  ad- 
ministered in  the  fullest,  \\Ndom  of  man.  fell  at  laM  in  the 
higher  wisdom  of  (iod.  They  fought  a  war— but  the  prej- 
udices of  that  war  have  died,  its  sympathies  have  broad- 
ened, and  its  memories  .Mv  already  the  priceless  treasure  of 
the  republic  thai  is  cemented  forever  with  its  blood.  They 
looked  out  together  upon  the  ashes  of  their  homes  and  the 
deflation  <>f  their  fields-  but  out  of  pitiful  resource  t  hex- 
have  fashioned  their  homes  anew,  and  plenty  rides  on  the 
springing  harvests.  In  all  the,  j>asf  there  is  nothing  to 
draw  them  into  essential  or  lasting  alliance— nothing  in  all 
that  heroic  record  that  cannot  be  rendered  onf earing froin 
provincial  hands  into  the  keeping  of  American  history. 

But  the  future  holds  a  problem,  in  solving  which  the 
South  must  stand  alone;  in  dealing  with  which,  she  must 
come  closer  together  than  ambition  or  despair  have  driven 
her.  and  on  the  outcome  of  which  her  very  existence  de- 
pends. This  problem  is  to  carry  within  her  body  politic 
two  separate  races,  and  nearly  equal  in  numbers.  She 
must  carry  these  races  in  peace — for  discord  means  ruin. 
She  must  carry  them  separately — for  assimilation  means 
debasement.  She  must  carry  them  in  equal  justice — for  to 
this  sin-  is  pledged  in  honor  and  in  gratitude.  She  must 
carry  them  even  unto  the  end,  for  in  human  probability 
she  will  never  be  quit  of  either. 

This  burden  no  other  people  bears  to-day — on  none 
hath  it  ever  rested.  Without  precedent  or  companion- 
ship, the  South  must  bear  this  problem,  the  awful  respon- 
sibility of  which  should  win  the  sympathy  of  all  human 
kind,  and  the  protecting  watchfulness  of  God — alone,  even 
unto  the  end.  Set  by  this  problem  apart  from  all  other 
peoples  of  the  earth,  and  her  unique  position  emphasi/ed 
rather  than  relieved,  as  1  shall  show  hereafter,  by  her 
material  conditions,  it  is  not  only  fit  but  it  is  essential  that 
she  should  hold  her  brotherhood  unimpaired,  quicken  her 
sympathies,  and  in  the  light  or  in  the  shadows  of  this  sur- 
passing problem  work  out  her  own  salvation  in  the  fear  of 
God— but  of  God  alone. 


HIS   LIFE,    WHITINGS,    AND  SPEECHES.  97 

What  shall  the  South  do  to  be  saved  \  Through  what 
paths  shall  she  reach  the  end?  Through  what  travail,  or 
what  splendors,  shall  she  give  to  the  Union  this  sen  ion,  its 
wealth  garnered,  its  resources  utilized,  and  its  rehabilita- 
tion complete — and  restore  to  the  world  this  problem  solved 
iu  such  justice  as  the  finite  mind  can  measure,  or  finite 
hands  administer? 

In  dealing  with  this  I  shall  dwell  on  two  points. 

First,  the  duty  of  the  South  in  its  relation  to  the  race 
problem. 

Second,  the  duty  of  the  South  in  relation  to  its  no  less 
unique  and  important  industrial  problem. 

I  approach  this  discussion  with  a  sense  of  consecration. 
I  beg  your  patient  and  cordial  sympathy.  And  I  invoke 
the  Almighty  God,  that  having  showered  on  this  people  His 
fullest  riches  has  put  their  hands  to  this  task,  that  He  will 
dra\v  near  unto  us,  as  He  drew  near  to  troubled  Israel,  and 
lead  us  in  the  ways  of  honor  and  uprightness,  even  through 
a  pillar  of  cloud  by  day,  and  a  pillar  of  fire  by  night. 

AVhat  of  the  negro  ?  This  of  him.  I  want  no  better 
friend  than  the  black  boy  who  was  raised  by  my  side,  and 
who  is  now  trudging  patiently  with  downcast  eyes  and 
shambling  figure  through  his  lowly  way  in  life.  I  want 
no  sweeter  music  than  the  crooning  of  my  old  "mammy," 
now  dead  and  gone  to  rest,  as  I  heard  it  when  she  held 
me  in  her  loving  arms,  and  bending  her  old  black  face 
above  me  stole  the  cares  from  my  brain,  and  led  me  smiling 
into  sleep.  I  want  no  truer  soul  than  that  which  moved 
the  trusty  slave,  who  for  four  years  while  my  father  fought 
with  the  armies  that  barred  his  freedom,  slept  every  night 
at  my  mother's  chamber  door,  holding  her  and  her  children 
as  safe  as  if  her  husband  stood  guard,  and  ready  to  lay 
down  his  humble  life  on  her  threshold.  History  has  no 
parallel  to  the  faith  kept  by  the  negro  in  the  South  during 
the  war.  Often  five  hundred  negroes  to  a  single  white  man, 
and  yet  through  these  dusky  throngs  the  women  and  chil- 
dren walked  in  safety,  and  the  unprotected  homes  rested  in 
peace.  Unmarshaled,  the  black  battalions  moved  patiently 


98  IIKNKY     W.    (.i:\KV, 


to  tlif  lidds  iii  ih,.  morning  to  feed  the  armies  their  idle- 
would  have  starved,  and  at  night  gathered  anxiously 
at  the  big  liouse  to  "hear  tin-  news  from  marster,*'  though 
conscious  that  his  victory  made  their  chains  enduring. 
Kvery  where  humble  and  kindly;  the  bod\  guard  of  the 
helpless;  th"  rough  companion  of  the  little  ones  ;  the 
observant  friend  ;  the  silent  sentry  in  his  lowly  cabin  ;  the 
shrewd  counselor.  And  when  the  dead  came  home,  a 
mourner  at  the  open  grave.  A  thousand  torches  would 
have  disbanded  every  Southern  army,  but  not  one  was 
lighted.  When  the  master  going  to  a  war  in  which  slavery 
was  involved  said  to  his  slave,  ''  I  leave  my  home  and  loved 
ones  in  your  charge,"  the  tenderness  between  man  and  mas- 
ter stood  disclosed.  And  when  the  slave  held  that  charge 
sacred  through  storm  and  temptation,  he  gave  new  meaning 
to.  faith  and  loyalty.  I  rejoice  that  when  freedom  came  to 
him  after  years  of  waiting,  it  was  all  the  sweeter  because  the 
black  hands  from  which  the  shackles  fell  were  stainless  of  a 
single  crime  against  the  helpless  ones  confided  to  his  care. 
From  this  root,  imbedded  in  a  century  of  kind  and  con- 
stant companionship,  has  sprung  some  foliage.  As  no 
race  had  ever  lived  in  such  unresisting  bondage,  none  was 
ever  hurried  with  such  swiftness  through  freedom  into 
power.  Into  hands  still  trembling  from  the  blow  that 
broke  the  shackles,  was  thrust  the  ballot.  In  less  than 
twelve  months  from  the  day  he  walked  down  the  furrow  a 
slave,  the  negro  dictated  in  legislative  halls  from  which 
I)avis  and  Callioun  had  gone  forth,  the  policy  of  twelve 
commonwealths.  When  his  late  master  protested  against 
his  niNiule,  the  federal  drum  beat  rol  led  around  his  strong- 
holds. and  from  a  hedge  of  federal  bayonets  lie  grinned  in 
good  natiired  insolence.  From  the  proven  incapacity  of 
that  day  has  he  far  advanced?  Simple,  credulous,  impul- 
sive—easily led  and  too  often  easily  bought,  is  he  a  safer, 
more  intelligent  citizen  now  than  then?  Is  this  mass  of 
votes,  loosed  from  old  restraints,  inviting  alliance  or  await- 
ing opportunity,  less  menacing  than  when  its  purpose  was 
plain  and  its  way  direct? 


HIS    LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND    SPEECHES.  99 

My  countrymen,  right  here  the  Soutli  must  make"  a 
decision  on  which  very  much  depends.  Many  wise  men 
hold  that  the  white  vote  of  the  South  should  divide,  the 
color  line  be  beaten  down,  and  the  southern  States  ranged 
on  economic  or  moral  questions  as  interest  or  belief  de- 
mands. I  am  compelled  to  dissent  from  this  view.  The 
worst  thing  in  my  opinion  that  could  happen  is  that  the 
white  people  of  the  South  should  stand  in  opposing  factions, 
with  the  vast  mass  of  ignorant  or  purchasable  negro  votes 
between.  Consider  such  a  status.  If  the  negroes  were 
skillfully  led, — and  leaders  would  not  be  lacking, — it  would 
give  them  the  balance  of  power — a  thing  not  to  be  con- 
sidered. If  their  vote  was  not  compacted,  it  would  invite 
the  debauching  bid  of  factions,  and  drift  surely  to  that 
which  was  the  most  corrupt  and  cunning.  With  the  shift- 
less habit  and  irresolution  of  slavery  days  still  possessing 
him,  the  negro  voter  will  not  in  this  generation,  adrift  from 
war  issues,  become  a  steadfast  partisan  through  conscience 
or  conviction.  In  every  community  there  are  colored  men 
who  redeem  their  race  from  this  reproach,  and  who  vote 
under  reason.  Perhaps  in  time  the  bulk  of  this  race  may 
thus  adjust  itself.  But,  through  what  long  and  monstrous 
periods  of  political  debauchery  this  status  would  be 
reached,  no  tongue  can  tell. 

The  clear  and  unmistakable  domination  of  the  white 
race,  dominating  not  through  violence,  not  through  party 
alliance,  but  through  the  integrity  of  its  own  vote  and  the 
largeness  of  its  sympathy  and  justice  through  which  it 
shall  compel  the  support  of  the  better  classes  of  the 
colored  race,— that  is  the  hope  and  assurance  of  the  South. 
Otherwise,  the  negro  would  be  bandied  from  one  faction  to 
another.  His  credulity  would  be  played  upon,  his  cupid- 
ity tempted,  his  impulses  misdirected,  his  passions  in- 
flamed. He  would  be  forever  in  alliance  with  that  faction 
which  was  most  desperate  and  unscrupulous.  Such  a  state 
would  be  worse  than  reconstruction,  for  then  intelligence 
was  banded,  and  its  speedy  triumph  assured.  But  with 
intelligence  and  property  divided — bidding  and  overbid- 


loo  III.NKV   \v. 

ding  f«»r  place  and  patronage  irritation  increasing  with 
each  conflict  the  bitterness  and  desperation  sei/ing  every 
In-art-  political  debauchery  deepenii.  •  ach  faction 

.staked  its  all  in  the  miserable  game— -there  \\ould  be  no 
end  to  tliK  until  our  suffrage  was  hopel.-»ly  sullied,  our 
people  forever  divided,  and  our  most  sacred  rights:  sur- 
rendered. 

One  thing  further  should  be  said  in  perfect  frankness. 
I'p  to  this  point  \ve  have  dealt  with  ignorance  and  corrup- 
tion—but beyond  this  point  a  deep'-r  issue  confronts  us. 
Ignorance  may  struggle  to  enlightenment,  out  of  corrup- 
tion may  come  the  incorruptible.  God  speed  the  day 
when.-  -every  true  man  will  work  and  pray  for  its  coming,— 
the  negro  must  be  led  to  know  and  through  sympathy  to 
confess  that  his  interests  and  the  interests  of  the  people  of 
the  South  are  identical.  The  men  who,  from  afar  oil',  view 
this  subject,  through  the  cold  eye  of  speculation  or  see  it 
distorted  through  partisan  glasses,  insist  that,  directly  or 
indirectly,  the  negro  race  shall  be  in  control  of  the  affairs 
of  the  South.  We  have  no  fears  of  this  ;  already  we  are 
attaching  tons  the  best  elements  of  that  race,  and  as  we 
proceed  our  alliance  will  broaden  ;  external  pressure  but 
irritates  and  impedes.  Those  who  would  put  the  negro  race 
in  supremacy  would  work  against  infallible  decree,  for  the 
white  race  can  never  submit  to  its  domination,  because  tin- 
white  race  is  the  superior  race.  But  the  supremacy  of  the 
white  race  of  the  South  must  be  maintained  forever,  and 
the  domination  of  the  negro  race  resisted  at  all  points  and 
at  all  ha/ards — because  the  white  race  is  the  superior  race. 
This  is  the  declaration  of  no  new  truth.  It  has  abided 
forever  in  the  marrow  of  our  bones,  and  shall  run  forever 
with  the  blood  that  feeds  Anglo-Saxon  hearts. 

In  political  compliance  the  South  has  evaded  the  truth, 
and  men  have  drifted  from  their  convictions.  But  we  can- 
not escape  this  issue.  It  faces  us  wherever  we  turn.  It  is 
an  issue  that  has  been,  and  will  be.  The  races  and  tribes 
of  earth  are  of  Divine  origin.  Behind  the  laws  of  man  and 
the  decrees  of  war,  stands  the  law  of  God.  What  God  hath 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  101 

separated  let  no  man  join  together.  The  Indian,  the  Malay, 
the  Negro,  the  Caucasian,  these  types  stand  as  markers 
of  God's  will.  Let  not  man  tinker  with  the  work  of  tin; 
Almighty.  Unity  of  civilization,  no  more  than  unity  of 
faith,  will  never  be  witnessed  on  earth.  No  race  has  risen, 
or  will  rise,  above  its  ordained  place.  Here  is  the  pivotal 
fact  of  this  great  matter — two  races  are  made  equal  in  law, 
and  in  political  rights,  between  whom  the  caste  of  race  has 
set  an  impassable  gulf.  This  gulf  is  bridged  by  a  statute, 
and  the  races  are  urged  to  cross  thereon.  This  cannot  be. 
The  fiat  of  the  Almighty  has  gone  forth,  and  in  eighteen 
centuries  of  history  it  is  written.  We  would  escape  this 
issue  if  we  could.  From  the  depths  of  its  soul  the  South 
invokes  from  heaven  "peace  on  earth,  and  good  will  to 
man."  She  would  not,  if  she  could,  cast  this  race  back  into 
the  condition  from  which  it  was  righteously  raised.  She 
would  not  deny  its  smallest  or  abridge  its  fullest  privilege. 
Not  to  lift  this  burden  forever  from  her  people,  would  she 
do  the  least  of  these  things.  She  must  walk  through  the 
valley  of  the  shadow,  for  God  has  so  ordained.  But  he  has 
ordained  that  she  shall  walk  in  that  integrity  of  race,  that 
created  in  His  wisdom  has  been  perpetuated  in  His  strength. 
Standing  in  the  presence  of  this  multitude,  sobered  with 
the  responsibility  of  the  message  I  deliver  to  the  young 
men  of  the  South,  I  declare  that  the  truth  above  all  others 
to  be  worn  unsullied  and  sacred  in  your  hearts,  to  be  sur- 
rendered to  no  force,  sold  for  no  price,  compromised  in  no 
necessity,  but  cherished  and  defended  as  the  covenant  of 
your  prosperity,  and  the  pledge  of  peace  to  your  children, 
is  that  the  white  race  must  dominate  forever  in  the  South, 
because  it  is  the  white  race,  and  superior  to  that  race  by 
which  its  supremacy  is  threatened. 

It  is  a  race  issue.  Let  us  come  to  this  point,  and  stand 
here.  Here  the  air  is  pure  and  the  light  is  clear,  and  here 
honor  and  peace  abide.  Juggling  and  evasion  deceives  not 
a  man.  Compromise  and  subservience  has  carried  not  a 
point.  There  is  not  a  white  man  North  or  South  who  does 
not  feel  it  stir  in  the  gray  matter  of  his  brain  and  throb  in 


102  IIK.NKY     \V.    ORADY, 

his  In-art.  Not  a  negro  who  does  not  feel  its  power.  It  is 
not  a  sectional  issue.  It  speaks  in  Ohio.  aii«l  in  Georgia. 
It  speaks  wherever  the  Anulo  Saxon  lunches  an  alien  iace. 
It  has  just  spoken  in  universally  approved  legislation  in 
excluding  the  Chinaman  from  our  gates,  not  fur  his  ignor- 
ance, vice  or  corruption,  l>ut.  because  lie  sought  to  estab- 
lish  an  inferior  race  in  a  republic  fashioned  in  the  wisdom 
and  defended  by  the  blood  of  a  homogeneous  people. 

The  Anglo-Saxon  blood  has  dominated  aluays  and 
everywhere.  It  fed  Alfred  when  he  wrote  the  charter  of 
Knglish  liberty  ;  it  gathered  about  JIampden  as  he  stood 
beneath  the  oak;  it  thundered  in  Cromwell's  veins  as  he 
fought  his  king  ;  it  humbled  Napoleon  at  \Vaterloo;  it  has 
touched  the  desert  and  jungle  with  undying  glory  ;  it  car- 
ried the  drumbeat  of  Kngland  around  the  world  and  spread 
on  every  continent  the  gospel  of  liberty  and  of  God  :  it 
established  this  republic,  carved  it  from  the  wilderness, 
conquered  it  from  the  Indians,  wrested  it  from  England, 
and  at  last,  stilling  its  own  tumult,  consecrated  it  forever 
as  the  home  of  the  Anglo-Saxon,  and  the  theater  of  his 
transcending  achievement.  Never  one  foot  of  it  can  be 
surrendered  while  that  blood  lives  in  American  veins, 
and  feeds  American  hearts,  to  the  domination  of  an  alien 
and  inferior  race. 

And  yet  that  is  just  what  is  proposed.  Not  in  twenty 
years  have  we  seen  a  day  so  pregnant  with  fate  to  this  sec- 
tion as  the  sixth  of  next  November.  If  President  Cleve- 
land is  then  defeated,  which  God  forbid,  I  believe  these 
States  will  be  led  through  sorrows  compared  to  which  the 
woes  of  reconstruction  will  be  as  the  fading  dews  of  morn- 
ing to  t  he  roaring  flood.  To  dominate  these  States  through 
the  colored  vote,  with  such  aid  as  federal  patronage  may 
debauch  or  federal  power  deter,  and  thus  through  its 
chosen  instruments  perpetuate  its  rule,  is  in  my  opinion  the 
settled  purpose  of  the  Republican  party.  I  am  appalled 
when  I  measure  the  passion  in  which  this  negro  problem 
is  judged  by  the  leaders  of  the  party.  Fifteen  years  ago 
Vice-President  Wilson  said — and  I  honor  his  memory  as 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  103 

that  of  a  courageous  man  :  "We  shall  not  have  finished 
with  the  South  until  we  force  its  people  to  change  their 
thought,  and  think  as  we  think."  I  repeat  these  words, 
for  I  heard  them  when  a  boy,  and  they  fell  on  my  ears  as 
the  knell  of  my  people's  rights — "  to  change  their  thought, 
and  make  them  think  as  we  think.'1  Not  enough  to  have 
conquered  our  armies — to  have  decimated  our  ranks,  to 
have  desolated  our  fields  and  reduced  us  to  poverty,  to 
have  struck  the  ballot  from  our  hands  and  enfranchised 
our  slaves — to  have  held  us  prostrate  under  bayonets  while 
the  insolent  mocked  and  thieves  plundered — but  their  very 
souls  must  be  rilled  of  their  faiths,  their  sacred  traditions 
cudgeled  from  memory,  and  their  immortal  minds  beaten 
into  subjection  until  thought  had  lost  its  integrity,  and 
we  were  forced  "to  think  as  they  think."  And  just 
now  General  Sherman  has  said,  and  I  honor  him  as  a 
soldier : 

"The  negro  must  be  allowed  to  vote,  and  his  vote  must  be  counted; 
otherwise,  so  sui-e  as  there  is  a  God  in  heaven,  you  will  have  another 
war,  more  cruel  than  the  last,  when  the  torch  and  dagger  will  take 
the  place  of  the  muskets  of  well-ordered  battalions.  Should  the  negro 
strike  that  blow,  in  seeming  justice,  there  will  be  millions  to  assist 
them." 

And  this  General  took  Johnston's  sword  in  surrender  ! 
He  looked  upon  the  thin  and  ragged  battalions  in  gray, 
that  for  four  years  had  held  his  teeming  and  heroic  legions 
at  bay.  Facing  them,  he  read  their  courage  in  their  de- 
pleted ranks,  and  gave  them  a  soldier's  parole.  When  he 
found  it  in  his  heart  to  taunt  these  heroes  with  this  threat, 
why — careless  as  he  was  twenty  years  ago  with  fire,  he  is 
even  more  careless  no\v  with  his  words.  If  we  could  hope 
that  this  problem  would  be  settled  within  our  lives  I  would 
appeal  from  neither  madness  nor  unmanliness.  But  when 
I  know  that,  strive  as  I  may,  I  must  at  last  render  this 
awful  heritage  into  the  untried  hands  of  my  son,  already 
dearer  tome  than  my  life,  and  that  he  must  in  turn  be- 
queath it  unsolved  to  his  children,  I  cry  out  against  the, 
inhumanity  that  deepens  its  difficulties  with  this  incen- 


104  HI-INKY    W.    CHADY, 

diary  threat,  and  beclouds  its  real  issue  with  inclining 
passion. 

This  problem  is  not  only  enduring,  but  it  is  widening. 
The  exclusion  of  t  IK-  ( 'hinese  is  I  In-  firs!  step  in  tin- revo- 
lution that  shall  save  liberty  and  law  and  religion  to  this 
land,  and  in  peace  and  order,  not  enforced  on  t  he  Callows 
oral  the  bayonet's  end,  but  proceeding  from  the  heart  of 
an  harmonious  people,  .shall  secure  in  the  enjoyment  of 
these  rights,  and  the  control  of  this  republic;,  the  homoge- 
neous people  that  established  and  has  maintained  it.  The 
next,  step  will  be  taken  when  some  brave  statesman,  look- 
ing I  >emaL;-ogy  in  the  face,  shall  move  to  call  to  the  stranger 
at  our  gates,  "Who  comes  here?"  admitting  every  man 
who  seeks  a  home,  or  honors  our  institutions,  and  whose 
habit  and  blood  will  run  with  the  native  current ;  but  ex- 
cluding all  who  seek  to  plant  anarchy  or  to  establish  alien 
men  or  measures  on  our  soil  ;  and  will  then  demand  that 
the  standard  of  our  citizenship  be  lifted  and  the  right  of 
acquiring  our  suffrage  be  abridged.  When  that  day 
comes,  and  God  speed  its  coming,  the  position  of  the  South 
Avill  be  fully  understood,  and  everywhere  approved.  Un- 
til then,  let  us — giving  the  negro  every  right,  civil  and 
political,  measured  in  that  fullness  the  strong  should  al- 
ways accord  the  weak — holding  him  in  closer  friendship 
and  sympathy  than  he  is  held  by  those  who  would  crucify 
us  for  his  sake — realizing  that  on  his  prosperity  ours 
depends — let  us  resolve  that  never  by  external  pressure,  or 
internal  division,  shall  he  establish  domination,  directly  or 
indirectly,  over  that  race  that  everywhere  has  maintained 
its  supremacy.  Let  this  resolution  be  cast  on  the  lines  of 
equity  and  justice.  Let  it  be  the  pledge  of  honest,  safe 
and  impartial  administration,  and  we  shall  command  the 
support  of  the  colored  race  itself,  more  dependent  than  any 
other  on  the  bounty  and  protection  of  government.  Let 
us  be  wise  and  patient,  and  we  shall  secure  through  its 
acquiescence  what  otherwise  we  should  win  through  con- 
llict,  and  hold  in  insecurity. 

All  this  is  no  unkindness  to  the  negro — but  rather  that 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  105 

he  may  be  led  in  equal  rights  and  in  peace  to  his  utter- 
most good.  Not  in  sectionalism — for  my  heart  beats  true 
to  the  Union,  to  the  glory  of  which  your  life  and  heart  is 
pledged.  Not  in  disregard  of  the  world's  opinion — for  to 
render  back  this  problem  in  the  world's  approval  is  the 
sum  of  my  ambition,  and  the  height  of  human  achieve- 
ment. Not  in  reactionary  spirit — but  rather  to  make  clear 
that  new  and  grander  way  up  which  the  South  is  marching 
to  higher  destiny,  and  on  which  I  would  not  halt  her  for 
all  the  spoils  that  have  been  gathered  unto  parties  since 
Catiline  conspired,  and  Caesar  fought.  Not  in  passion, 
my  countrymen,  but  in  reason — not  in  narrowness,  but  in 
breadth — that  we  may  solve  this  problem  in  calmness  and 
in  truth,  and  lifting  its  shadows  let  perpetual  sunshine 
pour  down  on  two  races,  walking  together  in  peace  and 
contentment.  Then  shall  this  problem  have  proved  our 
blessing,  and  the  race  that  threatened  our  ruin  work  our 
salvation  as  it  fills  our  fields  with  the  best  peasantry  the 
world  has  ever  seen.  Then  the  South — putting  behind  her 
all  the  achievements  of  her  past — and  in  war  and  in 
peace  they  beggar  eulogy — may  stand  upright  among  the 
nations  and  challenge  the  judgment  of  man  and  the  ap- 
proval of  God,  in  having  worked  out  in  their  sympathy, 
and  in  His  guidance,  this  last  and  surpassing  miracle  of 
human  government. 

What  of  the  South' s  industrial  problem?  When  we 
remember  that  amazement  followed  the  payment  by  thirty- 
seven  million  Frenchmen  of  a  billion  dollars  indemnity  to 
Germany,  that  the  five  million  whites  of  the  South  ren- 
dered to  the  torch  and  sword  three  billions  of  property— 
that  thirty  million  dollars  a  year,  or  six  hundred  million 
dollars  in  twenty  years,  has  been  given  willingly  of  our 
poverty  as  pensions  for  Northern  soldiers,  the  wonder  is 
that  we  are  here  at  all.  There  is  a  figure  with  which  his- 
tory has  dealt  lightly,  but  that,  standing  pathetic  and 
heroic  in  the  genesis  of  our  new  growth,  has  interested  me 
greatly — our  soldier-farmer  of  '65.  What  chance  had  he 
for  the  future  as  he  wandered  amid  his  empty  barns,  his 


i:v    w.   (;KAI>V, 

stock,  labor,  and  implements  gone — gathered  up  the  frag- 
ments of  his  wreck-  urging  kindly  his  borrowed  mule— 
paying  sixty  per  Cent,  for  all  that  he  bought,  and  buying 
all  on  credit  his  crop  mortgaged  before  it  was  plan: 
his  children  in  want,  his  neighborhood  in  chaos — working 
under  ne\\  conditions  and  retrieving  every  error  l>y  a  costly 
year-  plodding  all  day  down  the  furrow,  hopeless  and 
adrift,  save  when  at  night  lie  went  back  to  his  broken 
home,  where  his  wife,  cheerful  even  then,  renewed  his 
.-on rage,  while  she  ministered  to  him  in  loving  tender! 
Who  would  have  thought  as  during  those  lonely  and  ter- 
rible days  he  walked  behind  the  plow,  locking  the  sunshine 
in  the  glory  of  his  harvest,  and  spreading  the  shouers  and 
the  verdure  of  his  field — no  friend  near  save  nature  that 
smiled  at  his  earnest  touch,  and  (iod  that  sent  him  the 
message  of  good  cheer  thro  ugh  the  passing  breeze  and  the 
whispering  leaves — that  he  would  in  twenty  years,  having 
carried  these  burdens  uncomplaining,  make  a  crop  of 
.ooo.ooo.  Yet  this  he  has  done,  and  from  his  bounty 
the  South  has  rebuilded  her  cities,  and  recouped  her  losses. 
While  we  exult  in  his  splendid  achievement,  let  us  take 
account  of  his  standing. 

Whence  this   enormous  growth  \     For  ten   years  the 
world  has  been  at  peace.     The  pioneer  has  now  repl. 
the  soldier.     Commerce  has  whitened  new  seas,    and  the 
merchant  has  occupied  new  areas.     Steam  ha-  f  the 

earth  a  chess-board,  on  which  men  play  for  man 
Our  western  wheat-grower  competes  in  London  with  the 
Russian  and  the  East  Indian.  The  Ohio  wool  grower 
watches  the  Australian  shepherd,  and  the  bleat  of  the  now 
historic  sheep  of  Vermont  is  answered  from  the  steppes  of 
Asia.  The  herds  that  emerge  from  the  dust  of  your  amaz- 
ing prairies  might,  hear  in  their  pauses  the  hoof-be;:  • 
antipodean  herds  marching  to  meet  them.  I'nder  Hol- 
land's dykes,  the  cheese  and  butter  makers  light  American 
dairies.  The  hen  cackles  around  the  world.  California 
challenges  vine-clad  France.  The  dark  continent  is  dis- 
through  meshes  of  light.  There  is  competition 


HIS    LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  ](>7 

everywhere.  The  husbandman,  driven  from  his  market, 
balances  price  against  starvation,  and  undercuts  his  rival. 
This  conflict  often  runs  to  panic,  and  profit  vanishes.  The 
Iowa  farmer  burning  his  corn  for  fuel  is  not  an  unusual 
type. 

Amid  this  universal  conflict,  where  stands  the  South  ? 
While  the  producer  of  everything  we  eat  or  wear,  in  every 
land,  is  fighting  through  glutted  markets  for  bare  exist- 
ence, what  of  the  southern  farmer?  In  his  industrial  as 
in  his  political  problem  he  is  set  apart — not  in  doubt,  but 
in  assured  independence.  Cotton  makes  him  king.  Not 
the  fleeces  that  Jason  sought  can  rival  the  richness  of  this 
plant,  as  it  unfurls  its  banners  in  our  fields.  It  is  gold 
from  the  instant  it  puts  forth  its  tiny  shoot.  The  shower 
that  whispers  to  it  is  heard  around  the  world.  The  tres- 
pass of  a  worm  on  its  green  leaf  means  more  to  England 
than  the  advance  of  the  Russians  on  her  Asiatic  outposts. 
When  its  fibre,  current  in  every  bank,  is  marketed,  it 
renders  back  to  the  South  $350,000,000  every  year.  Its 
seed  will  yield  $60,000,000  worth  of  oil  to  the  press  and 
£40.000,000  in  food  for  soil  and  beast,  making  the  stu- 
pendous total  of  $450,000,000  annual  income  from  this  crop. 
And  now,  under  the  Tompkins  patent,  from  its  stalk- 
news  paper  is  to  be  made  at  two  cents  per  pound.  Edward 
Atkinson  once  said:  "If  New  England  could  grow  the 
cotton  plant,  without  lint,  it  would  make  her  richest  crop  ; 
if  she  held  monopoly  of  cotton  lint  and  seed  she  would  con- 
trol the  commerce  of  the  world." 

But  is  our  monopoly,  threatened  from  Egypt,  India  and 
Brazil,  sure  and  permanent  \  Let  the  record  answer.  In 
'72  the  American  supply  of  cotton  was  3,241,000  bales,— 
foreign  supply  3,036,000.  We  led  our  rivals  by  less  than 
200.000  bales.  This  year  the  American  supply  is  8,000,000 
bales — from  foreign  sources,  2,100,000,  expressed  in  bales 
of  four  hundred  pounds  each.  In  spite  of  new  areas  else- 
where, of  fuller  experience,  of  better  transportation,  and 
unlimited  money  spent  in  experiment,  the  supply  of  foreign 
cotton  has  decreased  since  '72  nearly  1,000,000  bales,  while 


108  HKNIIY   \v.   «;I:M»Y, 

that  of  the  South  has  increased  ip-arly  5,000,000.  Further 
than  this  :  Since  is?-.',  population  in  Kurope  lias  5nore;i>ed  i:j 
percent.,  and  cotton  consumption  in  Kurope  lias  increased 
f><)  per  cent.  Still  fiirthfr:  Since  1880 cotton  consunipt ion 
in  Kurope  has  increased  kJS  ]><>r  rent.,  wool  only  4  per  con t., 
and  tlax  has  decreased  11  per  cent.  As  for  new  areas,  the 

Uttermost  missionary  woos  the  heathen  with  a  cotton  shirt 
in  one  hand  and  the  Bible  in  the  other,  and  no  savage  I 
believe  has  ever  been  converted  to  one,  without  adopting 
the  other.  To  summarize  :  Our  American  libro  has  in- 
creased iis  product  nearly. three-fold,  while  it  has  seen  the 
product  of  its  rival  decrease  one-third.  It  has  enlarged 
its  dominion  in  the  old  centers  of  population,  supplant  inn- 
flax  and  wool,  and  it  peeps  from  the  satchel  of  every  busi- 
ness and  religious  evangelist  that  trots  the  globe.  In  three 
years  the  American  crop  has  increased  1,400,000  bales,  and 
yet  there  is  less  cotton  in  the  world  to-day  than  at  any  time 
for  twenty  years.  The  dominion  of  our  king  is  established  ; 
this  princely  revenue  assured,  not  for  a  year,  but  for  all 
time.  It  is  the  heritage  that  God  gave  us  when  he  arched 
our  skies,  established  our  mountains,  girt  us  about  with 
the  ocean,  tempered  the  sunshine,  and  measured  the  rain — 
ours  and  our  children's  forever. 

Not  alone  in  cotton,  but  in  iron,  does  the  South  excel. 
The  Hon.  Mr.  Norton,  who  honors  this  platform  with  his 
presence,  once  said  to  me  :  "  An  Englishman  of  the  highest 
character  predicted  that  the  Atlantic  will  be  whitened 
within  our  lives  with  sails  carrying  American  iron  and  coal 
to  England."  When  he  made  that  prediction  the  English 
miners  were  exhausting  the  coal  in  long  tunnels  above  which 
the  ocean  thundered.  Having  ores  and  coal  stored  in  ex- 
haustless  quantity,  in  such  richness,  and  in  such  adjust- 
ment, that  iron  can  be  made  and  manufacturing  done 
cheaper  than  elsewhere  on  this  continent,  is  to  now  com- 
mand, and  at  last  control,  the  world's  market  for  iron. 
The  South  now  sells  iron,  through  Pittsbnrg,  in  New  York. 
She  has  driven  Scotch  iron  first  from  the  interior,  and 
finally  from  American  ports.  "Within  our  lives  she  will 


HIS  LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND  SPEECHES.  109 

cross  the  Atlantic,  and  fulfill  the  Englishman's  prophecy. 
In  1880  the  South  made  212,000  tons  of  iron.  In  1887,  845,- 
000  tons.  She  isno\v  actually  building,  or  has  finished  this 
year,  furnaces  that  will  produce  more  than  her  entire  pro- 
duct of  last  year.  Birmingham  alone  will  produce  more 
iron  in  1889  than  the  entire  South  produced  in  1887.  Our 
coal  supply  is  exhaustless,  Texas  alone  having  6000  square 
miles.  In  marble  and  granite  we  have  no  rivals,  as  to  quan- 
tity or  quality.  In  lumber  our  riches  are  even  vaster. 
More  than  fifty  per  cent,  of  our  entire  area  is  in  forests, 
making  the  South  the  best  timbered  region  of  the  world. 
We  have  enough  merchantable  yellow  pine  to  bring,  in 
money,  $2,500,000,000 — a  sum  the  vastness  of  which  can 
only  be  understood  when  I  say  it  nearly  equaled  the  as- 
sessed value  of  the  entire  South,  including  cities,  forests, 
farms,  mines,  factories  and  personal  property  of  every 
description  whatsoever.  Back  of  this  our  forests  of  hard 
woods,  and  measureless  sw^amps  of  cypress  and  gum. 
Think  of  it.  In  cotton  a  monopoly.  In  iron  and  coal  es- 
tablishing swift  mastery.  In  granite  and  marble  develop- 
ing equal  advantage  and  resource.  In  yellow  pine  and  hard 
woods  the  world' s  treasury.  Surely  the  basis  of  the  South'  s 
wealth  and  powrer  is  laid  by  the  hand  of  the  Almighty  God, 
and  its  prosperity  has  been  established  by  divine  lawr  which 
work  in  eternal  justice  and  not  by  taxes  levied  on  its  neigh- 
bors through  human  statutes.  Paying  tribute  for  fifty  years 
that  under  artificial  conditions  other  sections  might  reach 
a  prosperity  impossible  under  natural  laws,  it  has  grown 
apace — and  its  growth  shall  endure  if  its  people  are  ruled 
by  two  maxims,  that  reach  deeper  than  legislative  enact- 
ment, and  the  operation  of  which  cannot  be  limited  by  arti- 
ficial restraint,  and  but  little  hastened  by  artificial  stimulus. 

First.  No  one  crop  will  make  a  people  prosperous.  If 
cotton  held  its  monopoly  under  conditions  that  made  other 
crops  impossible — or  under  allurements  that  made  other 
crops  exceptional — its  dominion  would  be  despotism. 

AVhenever  the  greed  for  a  money  crop  unbalances  the 
wisdom  of  husbandry,  the  money  crop  is  a  curse.  When 


HI.MIV     W.     i. 

it  stimulates  the  general  economy  of  the  farm,  it  is  the  pro- 
fiting of  farming.  In  an  unprosperous  strip  of  Carolina, 
when  asked  the  cause  of  their  poverty,  the  people  say, 

"Tobacco  for  it  is  our  only  crop."  In  Lancaster,  Pa.,  the 
richest  American  county  by  the  census,  when  asked  the 
cause  of  their  prosperity,  they  «ay,  "Tobacco — for  it  is  the 
golden  crown  of  a  diversified  agriculture."  The  soil  that 
produces  cotton  invites  the  grains  and  grasses,  the  orchard 
and  the  vine.  Clover,  corn,  cotton,  wheat,  and  barley 
thrive  in  the  same  inclosure  ;  the  peach,  the  apple,  the 
apricot,  and  the  Siberian  crab  in  the  same  orchard.  Herds 
and  flocks  graze  ten  months  every  year  in  the  meadows 
over  which  winter  is  but  a  passing  breath,  and  in  which 
spring  and  autumn  meet  in  summer's  heart.  Sugar-cane 
and  oats,  rice  and  potatoes,  are  extremes  that  come 
together  under  our  skies.  To  raise  cotton  and  send  its 
princely  revenues  to  the  west  for  supj)lies,  and  to  the  east 
for  usury,  would  be  misfortune  if  soil  and  climate  forced 
such  a  curse.  When  both  invite  independence,  to  remain 
in  slavery  is  a  crime.  To  mortgage  our  farms  in  Boston 
for  money  with  which  to  buy  meat  and  bread  from  western 
cribs  and  smokehouses,  is  folly  unspeakable.  I  rejoice 
that  Texas  is  less  open  to  this  charge  than  others  of  the 
cotton  States.  With  her  eighty  million  bushels  of  grain, 
and  her  sixteen  million  head  of  stock,  she  is  rapidly  learn- 
ing that  diversified  agriculture  means  prosperity.  Indeed, 
the  South  is  rapidly  learning  the  same  lesson  ;  and  learned 
through  years  of  debt  and  dependence  it  will  never  be  for- 
gotten. The  best  thing  Georgia  has  done  in  twenty  years 
was  to  raise  her  oat  crop  in  one  season  from  two  million 
to  nine  million  bushels,  without  losing  a  bale  of  her  cot- 
ton. It  is  more  for  the  South  that  she  has  increased  her 
crop  of  corn — that  best  of  grains,  of  which  Samuel  J. 
Tilden  said,  "It  will  be  the  staple  food  of  the  future, 
and  men  will  be  stronger  and  better  when  that  day 
comes"— by  forty-three  million  bushels  this  year,  than 
to  have  won  a  pivotal  battle  in  the  late  war.  In  this 
one  item  she  keeps  at  home  this  year  a  sum  equal  to 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  Ill 

the  entire  cotton  crop  of  my  State  that  last  year  went 
to  the  west. 

This  is  the  road  to  prosperity.  It  is  the  way  to  manli- 
ness and  sturdiness  of  character.  When  every  farmer  in 
the  South  shall  eat  bread  from  his  own  fields  and  meat 
from  his  own  pastures,  and  disturbed  by  no  creditor,  and 
enslaved  by  no  debt,  shall  sit  amid  his  teeming  gardens, 
and  orchards,  and  vineyards,  and  dairies,  and  barnyards, 
pitching  his  crops  in  his  own  wisdom,  and  growing  them 
in  independence,  making  cotton  his  clean  surplus,  and 
selling  it  in  his  own  time,  and  in  his  chosen  market,  and 
not  at  a  master's  bidding — getting  his  pay  in  cash  arid  not 
in  a  receipted  mortgage  that  discharges  his  debt,  but  does 
not  restore  his  freedom — then  shall  be  breaking  the  full- 
ness of  our  day.  Great  is  King  Cotton  !  But  to  lie  at  his 
feet  while  the  usurer  and  grain-raiser  bind  us  in  subjec- 
tion, is  to  invite  the  contempt  of  man  and  the  reproach  of 
God.  But  to  stand  up  before  him  and  amid  the  crops  and 
smokehouses  wrest  from  him  the  magna  charta  of  our 
independence,  and  to  establish  in  his  name  an  ample  and 
diversified  agriculture,  that  shall  honor  him  while  it  en- 
riches us — this  is  to  carry  us  as  far  in  the  wray  of  happi- 
ness and  independence  as  the  farmer,  working  in  the  fullest 
wisdom,  and  in  the  richest  field,  can  carry  any  people. 

But  agriculture  alone — no  matter  how  rich  or  varied 
its  resources — cannot  establish  or  maintain  a  people's 
prosperity.  There  is  a  lesson  in  this  that  Texas  may  learn 
with  profit.  No  commonwealth  ever  came  to  greatness  by 
producing  raw  material.  Less  can  this  be  possible  in  the 
future  than  in  the  past.  The  Comstock  lode  is  the  richest 
spot  on  earth.  And  yet  the  miners,  gasping  for  breath 
fifteen  hundred  feet  below  the  earth's  surface,  get  bare 
existence  out  of  the  splendor  they  dig  from  the  earth.  It 
goes  to  carry  the  commerce  and  uphold  the  industry  of 
distant  lands,  of  which  the  men  who  produce  it  get  but  dim 
report.  Hardly  more  is  the  South  profited  when,  stripping 
the  harvest  of  her  cotton  fields,  or  striking  her  teeming 
hills,  or  leveling  her  superb  forests,  she  sends  the  raw 


1  ]-j  1IKXKV    W.    GRADY, 

material  to  augment  I  he  \\.-al  t  h  and   po\v»-r  of  di>l ant  com- 
munities. 

Texas  produces  a  million  and  a  half  bales  of  cotton, 
which  yield  her  sCo.ooo.ooo.  That  cotton,  woven  into 
common  ii'oods.  would  add  s7.\OOO.oou  fc>  Texas' 8  income 
from  this  crop,  and  employ  'J-Jo.ooo  operatives,  \\ho  would 
spend  within  her  borders  more  t  h  an  s:$<  ),000,<  too  iu  \\-;i 
Massachusetts  mannfactures  .">7.~>,000  bales  of  cotton,  for 
which  she  pays  $31,000,000,  and  sells  for  $72, 000,000, 
adding  a  value  nearly  equal  to  Texas' s  gross  revenue  from 
cotton,  and  yet  Texas  lias  a  clean  advantage  for  manufac- 
turing this  cotton  of  one  per  cent  a  pound  over  Massachu- 
setts. The  little  village  of  Grand  Rapids  began  manu- 
facturing f  urnit  im:  .simply  because  it  was  set  in  a,  timber 
district.  It  is  now  a  great  city  and  sells  $10,000,000  worth 
of  furniture  every  year,  in  making  which  125,000  men  are 
employed,  and  a  population  of  40,000  people  supported. 
The  best  pine  districts  of  the  world  are  in  eastern  Texas. 
With  less  competition  and  wider  markets  than  Grand 
Rapids  has,  will  she  ship  her  forests  at  prices  that  barely 
support  the  wood  chopper  and  sawyer,  to  be  returned  in 
the  making  of  which  great  cities  are  built  or  maintained? 
When  her  farmers  and  herdsmen  draw  from  her  cities 
sl-j< ;,ooo.  ooo  as  the  price  of  their  annual  produce,  shall  this 
enormous  wealth  be  scattered  through  distant  shops  and 
factories,  leaving  in  the  hands  of  Texas  no  more  than  the 
sustenance,  support,  and  the  narrow  brokerage  between 
buyer  and  seller?  As  one-crop  farming  cannot  support 
the  country,  neither  can  a  resource  of  commercial  exchange 
support  a  city.  Texas  wants  immigrants — she  needs 
them — for  if  every  human  being  in  Texas  were  placed  at 
equi-distant  points  through  the  State  no  Texan  could  hear 
the  sound  of  a  human  voice  in  your  broad  areas. 

So  how  can  you  best  attract  immigration  ?  By  furnish- 
ing work  for  the  artisan  and  mechanic  if  you  meet  the 
demand  of  your  population  for  cheaper  and  essential  inan- 
ufactured  articles.  One  half  million  workers  would  be 
needed  for  this,  and  with  their  families  would  double  the 


HIS    LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  113 

population  of  your  State.  In  these  mechanics  and  their 
dependents  farmers  would  find  a  market  for  not  only 
their  staple  crops  but  for  the  truck  that  they  now  despise 
to  raise  or  sell,  but  is  at  least  the  cream  of  the  farm. 
Worcester  county,  Mass.,  takes  $720,000,000  of  our  mate- 
rial and  turns  out  $87,000,000  of  products  every  year, 
paying  $20,000,000  in  wages.  The  most  prosperous  section 
of  this  world  is  that  known  as  the  Middle  States  of  this 
republic.  With  agriculture  and  manufacturers  in  the 
balance,  and  their  shops  and  factories  set  amid  rich  and 
ample  acres,  the  result  is  such  deep  and  diffuse  prosperity 
as  no  other  section  can  show.  Suppose  those  States  had  a 
monopoly  of  cotton  and  coal  so  disposed  as  to  command 
the  world's  markets  and  the  treasury  of  the  world's  timber, 
I  suppose  the  mind  is  staggered  in  contemplating  the  maj- 
esty of  the  wealth  and  power  they  would  attain.  What  have 
they  that  the  South  lacks  ? — and  to  her  these  things  were 
added,  and  climate,  ampler  acres  and  rich  soil.  It  is 
a  curious  fact  that  three-fourths  of  the  population  and 
manufacturing  wealth  of  this  country  is  comprised  in 
a  narrow  strip  between  Iowa  and  Massachusetts,  com- 
prising less  than  one-sixth  of  our  territory,  and  that  this 
strip  is  distant  from  the  source  of  raw  materials  on  which 
its  growth  is  based,  of  hard  climate  and  in  a  large  part  of 
sterile  soil.  Much  of  this  forced  and  unnatural  develop- 
ment is  due  to  slavery,  which  for  a  century  fenced  enterprise 
and  capital  out  of  the  South.  Mr.  Thomas,  who  in  the 
Lehigh  Valley  owned  a  furnace  in  1845  that  set  that  pattern 
for  iron-making  in  America,  had  at  that  time  bought  mines 
and  forest  where  Birmingham  now  stands.  Slavery  forced 
him  away.  He  settled  in  Pennsylvania.  I  have  wondered 
what  would  have  happened  if  that  one  man  had  opened  li is 
iron  mines  in  Alabama  and  set  his  furnaces  there  at  that 
time.  I  know  what  is  going  to  happen  since  he  has 
been  forced  to  come  to  Birmingham  and  put  up  two 
furnaces  nearly  forty  years  after  his  survey. 

Another  cause  that  has  prospered  New  England  and 
the  Middle   States  while  the   South   languished,  is   the 


1  1-1  HI  \I:Y   w.   I-I:ADY, 


of  tarifl'  taxes  levied  on  tin-  unmixed  agriculture  of 
the-.-  states  for  the  protection  of  industries  to  our  neigh- 
bora  to  tin-  North.  a  system  on  which  tin-  Hon.  Roger  Q. 
Mills  —  that  lion  of  the  tribe  of  .Judah—  has  at  last  laid  his 
miirlif  y  pa\v  and  under  tin1  indignant  touch  of  which  it  trem- 
bles to  its  center.  That  system  is  to  be  revised  and  itsduties 
reduced,  as  we  all  agree  it  should  be,  ihougli  I  .should  say 
in  perfect  frankness  I  do  not  agree  with  Mr.  Mills  in  it.  Let 
us  ho]H!  this  will  be  done  witli  care  and  industrious  patience. 
Whetlier  it  stands  or  falls,  the  South  has  entered  the 
industrial  list  to  partake  of  his  bounty  if  it  stands,  and 
if  it  falls  to  rely  on  the  favor  with  which  nature  has 
endowed  her,  and  from  this  immutable  advantage  to 
fill  her  own  markets  and  then  have  a  talk  with  the  world 
lit  large. 

With  amazing  rapidity  she  has  moved  away  from  the 
one-crop  idea  that  was  once  her  curse.  In  1880  she  was 
esteemed  prosperous.  Since  that  time  she  has  added  31):*,- 
000,()()o  bushels  to  her  grain  crops,  and  182,000,000  head  to 
her  live  stock.  This  has  not  lost  one  bale  of  her  cotton 
cotton  crop,  which,  on  the  contrary,  has  increased  nearly 
200,000  bales.  With  equal  swiftness  has  she  moved  away 
from  the  folly  of  shipping  out  her  ore  at  $2  a  ton  and 
buying  it  bark  in  implements  from  &20  to  -slOO  per  ton  ;  her 
cotton  at  10  cents  a  pound  and  buying  it  back  in  cloth  at 
20  to  80  cents  per  pound  ;  her  timber  at  88  per  thousand 
and  buying  it  back  in  furniture  at  ten  to  twenty  times  as 
much.  In  the  past  eight  years  $250,000,000  have  been 
invested  in  new  shops  and  factories  in  her  States  ;  225,000 
artisans  are  now  working  that  eight  years  ago  were  idle  or 
worked  elsewhere,  and  these  added  s^T.000,000  to  the 
value  of  her  raw  material  —  more  than  half  the  value  of  her 
cotton.  Add  to  this  the  value  of  her  increased  grain  crops 
and  stock,  and  in  the  past  eight  years  she  has  grown  in 
her  fields  or  created  in  her  shops  manufactures  more  than 
the  value  of  her  cotton  crop.  The  incoming  tide  has  begun 
to  rise.  Every  train  brings  manufacturers  from  the  East 
and  West  seeking  to  establish  themselves  or  their  sons  near 


HIS    LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AM)   SPEECHES.  115 

the  raw  material  and  in  this  growing  market.     Let  the  full- 
ness of  the  tide  roll  in. 

It  will  not  exhaust  our  materials,  nor  shall  we  glut  our 
markets.  When  the  growing  demand  of  our  southern 
market,  feeding  on  its  own  growth,  is  met,  we  shall  find 
new  markets  for  the  South.  Under  our  new  condition 
many  indirect  laws  of  commerce  shall  be  straightened. 
\Ye  buy  from  Brazil  $50,000,000  worth  of  goods,  and  sell 
her  $8,500,000.  England  buys  only  899, 000, (XX),  and  sells 
her  $35,000,000.  Of  805,000,000  in  cotton  goods  bought  by 
Central  and  South  America,  over  $50,000,000  went  to  Eng- 
land. Of  8331,000,000  sent  abroad  by  the  southern  half  of 
our  hemisphere,  England  secures  over  half,  although  we 
buy  from  that  section  nearly  twice  as  much  as  England. 
Our  neighbors  to  the  south  need  nearly  every  article  we 
make  ;  we  need  nearly  everything  they  produce.  Less 
than  2,500  miles  of  road  must  be  built  to  bind  by  rail  the 
two  American  continents.  When  this  is  done,  and  even 
before,  we  shall  find  exhaustless  markets  to  the  South. 
Texas  shall  command,  as  she  stands  in  the  van  of  this  new 
movement,  its  richest  rewards. 

The  South,  under  the  rapid  diversification  of  crops  and 
diversification  of  industries,  is  thrilling  with  new  life.  As 
this  new  prosperity  comes  to  us,  it  will  bring  no  sweeter 
thought  to  me,  and  to  you,  my  countrymen,  I  am  sure,  than 
that  it  adds  not  only  to  the  comfort  and  happiness  of  our 
neighbors,  but  that  it  makes  broader  the  glory  and  deeper 
the  majesty,  and  more  enduring  the  strength,  of  the  Union 
which  reigns  supreme  in  our  hearts'.  In  this  republic  of 
ours  is  lodged  the  hope  of  free  government  on  earth.  Here 
God  has  rested  the  ark  of  his  covenant  with  the  sons  of 
men.  Let  us — once  estranged  and  thereby  closer  bound,— 
let  us  soar  above  all  provincial  pride  and  find  our  deeper 
inspirations  in  gathering  the  fullest  sheaves  into  the  har- 
vest and  standing  the  staunchest  and  most  devoted  of  its 
sons  as  it  lights  the  path  and  makes  clear  the  way  through 
which  all  the  people  of  this  earth  shall  come  in  God's 
appointed  time. 


1JC  HENKY    W.    GRADY, 

A  few  words  for  the  young  men  of  Tr\-;is.  I  am  glad 
that  lean  sp»-ak  to  them  at  all.  Men.  esp.-cially  young 
men,  look  back  for  their  inspiration  to  \vlial  is  best  in  their 
traditions.  Thermop\  la-  cast  Spartan  sentiments  in  heroic 
mould  and  sustained  Spartan  anus  for  more  than  a  cen- 
tury. Thermopylae  had  survivors  to  tell  the  story  of  its 
defeat.  The  Alamo  had  none.  Though  voiceless  it  shall 
speak  from  its  dumb  walls.  Liberty  cried  out  to  Texas,  as 
God  called  from  the  clouds  unto  Moses.  Bowie  and  Fan- 
ning, though  dead  still  live.  Their  voices  rang  above  the 
din  of  Goliad  and  the  glory  of  San  .lacinto,  and  they 
marched  with  the  Texas  veterans  who  rejoiced  at  the  birth 
of  Texas  independence.  It  is  the  spirit  of  the  Alamo  that 
moved  above  the  Texas  soldiers  as  they  charged  like  demi- 
gods through  a  thousand  battlefields,  and  it  is  the  spirit 
of  the  Alamo  that  whispers  from  their  graves  held  in  every 
State  of  the  Union,  ennobling  th«ir  dust,  their  soil,  that 
was  crimsoned  with  their  blood. 

In  this  spirit  of  this  inspiration  and  in  the  thrill  of  the 
amazing  growth  that  surrounds  you,  my  young  friends,  it 
will  be  strange  if  the  young  men  of  Texas  do  not  carry  the 
lone  star  into  the  heart  of  the  struggle.  The  South  needs 
her  sons  to-day  more  than  when  she  summoned  them  to  the 
forum  to  maintain  her  political  supremacy,  more  than 
when  the  bugle  called  them  to  the  field  to  defend  issues 
put  to  the  arbitrament  of  the  sword.  Her  old  body  is 
instinct  with  appeal  calling  on  us  to  come  and  give  her 
fuller  independence  than  she  has  ever  sought  in  field  or 
forum.  It  is  ours  to  show  that  as  she  prospered  with 
slaves  she  shall  prosper  still  more  with  freemen  ;  ours  to 
see  that  from  the  lists  she  entered  in  poverty  she  shall 
emerge  in  prosperity  ;  ours  to  carry  the  transcending  tra- 
ditions of  the  old  South  from  which  none  of  us  can  in  honor 
or  in  reverence  depart,  unstained  and  unbroken  into  the 
new.  Shall  we  fail  ?  Shall  the  blood  of  the  old  South— 
the  best  strain  that  ever  uplifted  human  endeavor — that 
ran  like  water  at  duty's  call  and  never  stained  where  it 
touched— shall  this  blood  that  pours  into  our  veins  through 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  117 

a  century  luminous  with  achievement,  for  the  firat  time 
falter  and  be  driven  back  from  irresolute  heat,  when  the 
old  South,  that  left  us  a  better  heritage  in  manliness  and 
courage  than  in  broad  and  rich  acres,  calls  us  to  settle 
problems  ?  A  soldier  lay  wounded  on  a  hard-fought  field, 
the  roar  of  the  battle  had  died  away,  and  he  rested  in  the 
deadly  stillness  of  its  aftermath.  Not  a  sound  was  heard 
as  he  lay  there,  sorely  smitten  and  speechless,  but  the  shriek 
of  wounded  and  the  sigh  of  the  dying  soul,  as  it  escaped 
from  the  tumult  of  earth  into  the  unspeakable  peace  of  the 
stars.  Off  over  the  field  flickered  the  lanterns  of  the  sur- 
geons with  the  litter  bearers,  searching  that  they  might 
take  away  those  whose  lives  could  be  saved  and  leave  in 
sorrow  those  who  were  doomed  to  die  with  pleading  eyes 
through  the  darkness.  This  poor  soldier  watched,  unable 
to  turn  or  speak  as  the  lanterns  grew  near.  At  last  the 
light  flashed  in  his  face,  and  the  surgeon,  with  kindly  face, 
bent  over  him,  hesitated  a  moment,  shook  his  head,  and 
was  gone,  leaving  the  poor  fellow  alone  with  death.  He 
watched  in  patient  agony  as  they  went  on  from  one  part  of 
the  field  to  another.  As  they  came  back  the  surgeon  bent 
over  him  again.  "I  believe  if  this  poor  fellow  lives  to  sun- 
down to-morrow  he  will  get  well. ' '  And  again  leaving  him, 
not  to  death  but  with  hope  ;  all  night  long  these  words  fell 
into  his  heart  as  the  dews  fell  from  the  stars  upon  his  lips, 
"if  he  but  lives  till  sundown,  he  will  get  well."  He 
turned  his  weary  head  to  the  east  and  watched  for  the 
coming  sun.  At  last  the  stars  went  out,  the  east  trembled 
with  radiance,  and  the  sun,  slowly  lifting  above  the  hori- 
zon, tinged  his  pallid  face  with  flame.  He  watched  it 
inch  by  inch  as  it  climbed  slowly  up  the  heavens.  He 
thought  of  life,  its  hopes  and  ambitions,  its  sweetness  and 
its  raptures,  and  he  fortified  his  soul  against  despair  until 
the  sun  had  reached  high  noon.  It  sloped  down  its  slow 
descent,  and  his  life  was  ebbing  away  and  his  heart  was 
faltering,  and  he'needed  stronger  stimulants  to  make  him 
stand  the  struggle  until  the  end  of  the  day  had  come.  He 
thought  of  his  far-off  home,  the  blessed  house  resting 


118  HI.NKY    \V.    GKADY, 

in  tranquil  pence  with  the  roses  climbing  to  its  door,  and 
the  trees  whispering  to  its  windows,  ;m<l  do/ing  in  the 
sunshine,  tin-  orchard  and  the  little  brook  running  like  a 
silver  thread  through  the  forest. 

"  If  I  live  till  sundown  I  will  see  it,  again.  I  will  walk 
down  the  shady  lane:  I  will  open  the  battered  gate,  and 
the  mocking-bird  shall  call  to  me  from  the  orchard,  and  I 
will  drink  again  at  the  old  mossy  spring." 

And  he  thought  of  the  wife  who  had  come  from  the 
neighboring  farmhouse  and  put  her  hand  shyly  in  his,  and 
brought  sweetness  to  his  life  and  light  to  his  home. 

"  If  I  live  till  sundown  I  shall  look  once  more  into  her 
deep  and  loving  eyes  and  press  her  brown  head  once  more 
to  my  aching  breast." 

And  he  thought  of  the  old  father,  patient  in  prayer, 
bending  lower  and  lower  every  day  under  his  load  of  sor- 
row and  old  age. 

"  If  I  but  live  till  sundown  I  shall  see  him  again  and 
wind  my  strong  arm  about  his  feeble  body,  and  his  hands 
shall  rest  upon  my  head  while  the  unspeakable  healing  of 
his  blessing  falls  into  my  heart." 

And  he  thought  of  the  little  children  that  clambered  on 
his  knees  and  tangled  their  little  hands  into  his  heart- 
strings, making  to  him  such  music  as  the  world  shall  not 
equal  or  heaven  surpass. 

"If  I  live  till  sundown  they  shall  again  find  my  parched 
lips  with  their  warm  mouths,  and  their  little  fingers  shall 
run  once  more  over  my  face." 

And  he  then  thought  of  his  old  mother,  who  gathered 
these  children  about  her  and  breathed  her  old  heart  afresh 
in  their  brightness  and  attuned  her  old  lips  anew  to  their 
prattle,  that  she  might  live  till  her  big  boy  came  home. 

u  If  I  live  till  sundown  I  will  see  her  again,  and  I  will 
rest  my  head  at  my  old  place  on  her  knees,  and  weep  away 
all  memory  of  this  desolate  night."  And  the  Son  of  God, 
who  had  died  for  men,  bending  from  the  stars,  put  tin- 
hand  that  had  been  nailed  to  the  cross  on  ebbing  life  and 
held  on  the  staunch  until  the  sun  went  down  and  the  stars 


HIS    LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  119 

came  out,  and  shone  down  in  the  brave  man's  heart  and 
blurred  in  his  glistening  eyes.  :ind  the  lanterns  of  the  sur- 
geons came  and  he  was  taken  from  death  to  life. 

The  world  is  a  battle-field  strewn  with  the  wrecks  of 
government  and  institutions,  of  theories  and  of  faiths  that 
have  gone  down  in  the  ravage  of  years.  On  this  field  lies 
the  South,  sown  with  her  problems.  Upon  the  field  swings 
the  lanterns  of  God.  Amid  the  carnage  walks  the  Great 
Physician.  Over  the  South  he  bends.  "If  ye  but  live 
until  to-morrow's  sundown  ye  shall  endure,  my  country- 
men." Let  us  for  her  sake  turn  our  faces  to  the  east  and 
watch  as  the  soldier  watched  for  the  coming  sun.  Let  us 
staunch  her  wounds  and  hold  steadfast.  The  sun  mounts 
the  skies.  As  it  descends  to  us,  minister  to  her  and  stand 
constant  at  her  side  for  the  sake  of  our  children,  and  of 
generations  unborn  that  shall  suffer  if  she  fails.  And  when 
the  sun  has  gone  down  and  the  day  of  her  probation  has 
ended,  and  the  stars  have  rallied  her  heart,  the  lanterns 
shall  be  swung  over  the  field  and  the  Great  Physician  shall 
lead  her  up,  from  trouble  into  content,  from  suffering  into 
peace,  from  death  to  life.  Let  every  man  here  pledge  him- 
self in  this  high  and  ardent  hour,  as  I  pledge  myself  and 
the  boy  that  shall  follow  me  ;  every  man  himself  and  his 
son,  hand  to  hand  and  heart  to  heart,  that  in  death  and 
earnest  loyalty,  in  patient  painstaking  and  care,  he  shall 
watch  her  interest,  advance  her  fortune,  defend  her  fame 
and  guard  her  honor  as  long  as  life  shall  last.  Every  man 
in  the  sound  of  my  voice,  under  the  deeper  consecration  he 
offers  to  the  Union,  will  consecrate  himself  to  the  South. 
Have  no  ambition  but  to  be  first  at  her  feet  and  last  at  her 
service.  No  hope  but,  after  a  long  life  of  devotion,  to  sink 
to  sleep  in  her  bosom,  and  as  a  little  child  sleeps  at  his 
mother's  breast  and  rests  untroubled  in  the  light  of  her 
smile. 

With  such  consecrated  service,  what  could  we  not 
accomplish  ;  what  riches  we  should  gather  for  her  ;  what 
glory  and  prosperity  we  should  render  to  the  Union  ;  what 
blessings  we  should  gather  unto  the  universal  harvest  of 


IIK.NKV   \v.  <;KADY, 

luunanity.  As  I  think  of  it,  a  vision  of  surpassing  beauty 
unfolds  to  my  eyes.  I  see  a  South,  the  home  of  iifty 
millions  of  people,  who  rise  up  every  day  to  call  from 
blessed  cities,  vast  hives  of  industry  and  of  thrift  ;  her 
country-sides  the  tiv.-isuivs  from  which  their  resources  are 
drawn  ;  her  streams  vocal  with  whirring  spindles  ;  her 
valleys  tranquil  in  the  white  and  gold  of  the  harvest  ;  her 
mountains  showering  down  the  music  of  bells,  as  her  .slow- 
moving  flocks  and  herds  go  forth  from  their  folds  ;  her 
rulers  honest  and  her  people  loving,  and  her  homes  happy 
and  their  hearthstones  bright,  and  their  waters  still,  and 
their  pastures  green,  and  her  conscience  clear  ;  her  wealth 
diffused  and  poor-houses  empty,  her  churches  earnest  and 
all  creeds  lost  in  the  gospel.  Peace  and  sobriety  walking 
hand  in  hand  through  her  borders  ;  honor  in  her  homes  ; 
uprightness  in  her  midst  ;  plenty  in  her  fields  ;  straight 
and  simple  faith  in  the  hearts  of  her  sons  and  daughters  ; 
her  two  races  walking  together  in  peace  and  contentment  ; 
sunshine  everywhere  and  all  the  time,  and  night  falling  on 
v'her  generally  as  from  the  wings  of  the  unseen  dove. 

All  this,  my  country,  and  more  can  we-do  for  you.  As 
I  look  the  vision  grows,  the  splendor  deepens,  the  horizon 
falls  back,  the  skies  open  their  everlasting  gates,  and  the 
glory  of  the  Almighty  God  streams  through  as  He  looks 
down  on  His  people  who  have  given  themselves  unto  Him 
and  leads  them  from  one  triumph  to  another  until  they 
have  reached  a  glory  unspeaking,  and  the  whirling  stars, 
as  in  their  courses  through  Arcturus  they  run  to  the  milky 
way,  shall  not  look  down  on  a  better  people  or  happier 
land. 

x 


<    t*#J--U* 


<?    (i 


HIS    LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND    SPEECHES.  121 


AT  THE  AUGUSTA  EXPOSITION. 


I 


N  NOVEMBER,  1887,  AT  THE  AUGUSTA  EXPOSITION,  MF. 
GRADY  DELIVERED  THE  FOLLOWING  ADDRESS  : 


"  When  my  eyes  for  the  last  time  behold  the  sun  in  the  heavens, 
may  they  rest  upon  the  glorious  ensign  of  this  republic,  still  full  high 
advanced,  its  arms  and  trophies  streaming  in  original  lustre,  not  a  star 
obscured  or  a  stripe  effaced,  but  everywhere  blazing  in  characters  of 
living  light  all  over  its  ample  folds  as  they  wave  over  land  and  sea,  and 
in  every  wind  under  heaven,  that  sentiment  dear  to  every  American 
heart,  liberty  and  union  now  and  forever,  one  and  inseparable  !  " 

These  words  of  Daniel  Webster,  whose  brain  was  the 
temple  of  wisdom  and  whose  soul  the  temple  of  liberty, 
inspire  my  heart  as  I  speak  to  you  to-day. 

Ladies  and  gentlemen  :  This  day  is  auspicious.  Set 
apart  by  governor  and  president  for  universal  thanksgiv- 
ing, our  grateful  hearts  confirm  the  consecration.  Though 
we  have  not  been  permitted  to  parade  our  democratic 
roosters  in  jubilant  print,  we  may  now  lead  them  from 
their  innocuous  desuetude,  and  making  them  the  basic  of 
this  day's  feast,  gather  about  them  a  company  that  in  cor- 
dial grace  shall  be  excelled  by  none — not  even  that  which 
invests  the  republican  turkey,  whose  steaming  thighs  shall 
be  slipped  to-day  in  Indianapolis,  and  attacking  them  with 
an  appetite  that  comes  from  abounding  health,  consign 
them  to  that  digestion  that  waits  on  a  conscience  void  of 
offense. 

We  give  thanks  to-day  that  the  Lord  God  Almighty, 
having  led  us  from  desolation  into  plenty,  from  poverty 
into  substance,  from  passion  into  reason,  and  from  es- 


IIKN'KY    W.    (iKADY, 

tranireinent  into  love — having  brought  the  harvests  from 
the  ashes,  ami  raised  us  homes  from  our  ruins,  and  tdK-ln-d 
our  scarred  land  all  over  with  beauty  and  witli  pear.- 
permits  us  to  a-semUe  here  to-day  and  rejoice  amid  the 
garnered  heaps  of  OUT  treasure.  Your  visitors  give,  thanks 
because,  coining  to  a  city  that  from  deep  disaster  has  risen 
with  energy  and  courage  unequaled.  and  witnessing  an  ex- 
position that  in  the  sweep  of  its  mighty  arms  and  the 
splendor  of  its  gathered  riches  surpasses  all  we  have  at- 
tempted, they  lind  all  sense  of  rivalry  blotted  out  in 
wondering  admiration,  and  from  hearts  that  know  not 
envy  or  criticism,  bid  you  God-speed  to  even  higher 
achievement,  and  to  full  and  swift  harvesting  of  the 
prosperity  to  gain  which  you  have  builded  so  bravely 
and  so  wisely. 

I  am  thankful,  if  you  will  pardon  this  personal  digres- 
sion, because  I  now  meet  face  to  face,  and  can  render  ser- 
vice to  a  people  whose  generous  words  on  a  late  occasion 
touched  my  heart  more  deeply  than  I  shall  attempt  here 
to  express.  I  simply  say  to  you  now,  and  I  would  that 
my  voice  could  reach  every  man  in  Georgia  to  whom  I  am 
in  like  indebted,  that  your  kindness  left  no  room  for  re- 
sentment or  regret ;  but  a  heart  filled  with  gratitude  and 
love  steadier  in  its  resolution  to  deserve  the  approval  you 
so  unstintingly  gave,  and  more  deeply  consecrated  to  the 
service  of  the  people,  that  in  giving  me  their  love  have 
given  all  that  I  have  dared  to  hope  for,  and  more  than  L 
had. dared  to  ask.  I  know  not  what  the  future  may  hold 
for  the  life  that  recent  events  have  jostled  from  its  accus- 
tomed path.  It  would  be  affectation  to  say  that  I  am  rare- 
less — for,  in  touching  it  with  your  loving  confidence,  you 
have  kindled  inspirations  that  cherished  without  guile, 
may  be  confessed  in  frankness.  But  if  it  be  given  to  man 
to  read  the  human  heart,  and  plumb  the  quicksands  of 
human  ambition,  I  know  that  I  speak  the  truth  when  I 
say  that  if  ever  I  hold  in  my  grasp  any  honor,  in  the  win- 
ning or  wearing  of  which  my  State  is  disadvantaged,  and 
my  hand  refuses  to  surrender  it,  I  pray  God  that  in  remem- 


HIS   LIFE,    \rrJTIXOS,    AND   SPEECHES.  123 

brance  of  this  hour  He  will  strike  it  from  me  forever ; 
and  if  my  ambitious  heart  rebels,  that  He  will  lead  it,  even 
through  sorrow  and  humiliation,  to  know  that  unworthy 
laurels  will  fade  on  the  brow,  and  that  no  honor  can  en- 
noble, no  triumph  advance,  and  no  victory  satisfy  that  is 
not  won  and  worn  in  the  weal  of  the  people  and  the  pros- 
perity of  the  State. 

It  gives  us  pleasure  to  meet  to-day  our  neighbors  from 
Carolina,  and  by  the  banks  of  this  river,  more  bond  than 
boundary,  give  them  cordial  welcome  to  Georgia.  The 
people  of  these  States,  sir,  are  ancient  and  honorable 
friends.  When  the  infant  colony  that  settled  Georgia 
landed  from  its  long  voyage  it  was  the  hands  of  Carolin- 
ians that  helped  them  ashore,  and  Carolina's  hospitality 
that  gave  them  food  and  shelter.  A  banquet  was  served  at 
Beaufort,  the  details  of  which  proved  our  ancestors  to  have 
been  doughty  trenchermen,  and  at  which  we  are  not  sur- 
prised to  learn  a  goodly  quantity  of  most  excellent  wine 
was  served,  nor  to  learn — for  scribes  extenuated  then  as 
now — that,  though  the  Affair  was  conducted  in  the  most 
agreeable  manner,  no  one  became  intoxicated.  When  the 
Georgians  took  up  their  march  to  Savannah  they  carried 
with  them  herds  from  the  Carolinians'  folds,  and  food  from 
their  granaries,  and  an  offer  from  Mr.  Whitaker — blessed 
be  his  memory  ! — of  a  silver  spoon  for  the  first  male  child 
born  on  Georgia  soil,  the  first  instance,  I  believe,  of  a 
bounty  offered  or  protection  guaranteed  to  an  infant  indus- 
try on  this  continent.  When  they  settled,  it  was  Carolina 
gentlemen  with  their  servants  that  builded  the  huts  and 
sheltered  them,  and  Carolina  captains  with  their  picket 
men  that  guarded  them  from  the  Indians.  As  from  your 
slender  and  pitiful  store  you  gave  then  bountifully  to  us, 
we  invite  you  to-day  to  share  with  us  our  plenty  and 
rejoice  with  us  that  what  you  planted  in  neighborly  kind- 
ness hath  grown  into  such  greatness. 

I  am  stirred  with  the  profoundest  emotion  when  I 
reflect  upon  what  the  peoples  of  these  two  States  have 
endured  together.  Shoulder  to  shoulder  they  have  fought 


\'>\  HI-INKY     \V.    <.KADY, 

through  two  revolutions.  Side  by  side  they  have  fallen 
on  the  field  of  battle,  and,  brothers  even  in  death,  have 
rested  in  common  graves.  Hand  clasped  in  hand,  they  en- 
joyed victory  together,  and  tog<-th<T  n-aped  in  honor  :md 
dignity  the  fruits  of  their  triumph.  Heart  locked  in 
heart,  they  have  stood  undaunted  in  the  desolation  of  de- 
feat and,  fortified  by  unfailing  comradeship,  have  wrought 
gladness  and  peace  from  the  tumult  and  bitterness  of  des- 
pair. Of  them  it  may  be  truly  said,  they  have  known  no 
rivalry  save  that  emulation  which  inspires  each,  and  em- 
bitters neither.  If  we  match  your  Calhoun,  one  of  that 
trinity  that  hath  most  been  and  shall  not  be  equaled  in 
political  record,  with  our  Stephens,  who  was  as  acute  in  ex- 
pounding, and  as  devoted  in  defending  the  constitution  as 
he  ;  your  Hayne,  who  maintained  himself  valiantly  against 
the  great  mastodon  in  American  politics,  with  our  Hill 
(would  that  he  might  be  given  back  to  us  to-day),  who  took 
the  ablest  debater  of  the  age  by  the  throat  and  shook  him 
until  his  eager  tongue  was  stilled  and  the  lips  that  had 
slandered  the  South  were  livid  in  shame  and  confusion  ;  if 
against  McDuflfie,  eloquent  and  immortal  tribune,  we  put 
our  Toombs,  the  Mirabeau  of  his  day,  surpassing  the 
Frenchman  in  eloquence,  and  stainless  of  his  crimes  ;  if 
against  Legare,  both  scholar  and  statesman,  we  put  our 
Wilde,  not  surpassed  as  either;  'if  we  proffer  Lanier, 
Barick  and  Harris,  when  the  praises  of  Sims,  and  Hayne, 
and  Tim  rod  are  sung,  it  is  only  because  we  rejoice  in  the 
strength  of  each  which  has  honored  both,  and  glorified  our 
great  republic.  Let  the  glory  of  our  past  history  incite  us 
to  the  future  ;  let  the  trials  we  have  endured  nerve  us  for 
trials  yet  to  come,  and  let  Georgia  and  Carolina,  that  in 
prosperity  united,  in  adversity  have  not  been  divided. 
strike  hands  here  to-day  in  a  new  compact  that  shall  hold 
them  bound  together  in  comradeship  and  love  as  long  as 
the  Savannah,  laying  its  lips  on  the  cheeks  of  either,  runs 
down  to  the  sea. 

The  South  is  now  confronted  by  two  dangers. 

First,  that  by  remaining  solid  it  will  force  a  permanent 


UIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  125 

sectional  alignment,  under  which  being  in  minority  it  has 
nothing  to  gain,  and  everything  to  lose. 

Second,  that  by  dividing  it  will  debauch  its  political 
system,  destroy  the  defenses  of  its  social  integrity,  and 
put  the  balance  of  power  in  the  hands  of  an  ignorant  and 
dangerous  class. 

Let  us  discuss  these  dangers  for  a  moment. 

As  to  the  first.  I  do  not  doubt  that  every  day  the  South 
remains  solid,  the  drift  toward  a  solid  North  is  deepening. 
The  South  is  solid  now  in  a  sense  not  dreamed  of  in  ante- 
bellum days.  Then  we  divided  on  every  question  save  one, 
that  of  preserving  equal  representation  in  the  Senate. 
Clay  championed  the  protective  tariff.  Jackson  flew  at 
Calhoun's  throat  when  Carolina  threatened  to  nullify. 
Polk,  of  Tennessee,  was  made  president  over  Clay,  of  Ken- 
tucky. In  1852,  Pierce  received  the  vote  of  twenty-seven 
States  out  of  thirty-one,  though  this  period  marked  the 
height  of  slavery  disturbance.  The  South  was  solid 
then  on  one  thing  alone.  On  all  other  questions  national 
suffrage  knew  no  sectional  lines.  To-day  the  South 
is  a  mass  of  States  merged  into  one  ;  every  issue  fused 
in  the  ardor  of  one  great  question,  and  our  153  electoral 
votes  hurled  as  a  rifle-ball  into  the  electoral  college. 
The  tendency  of  this  must  be  to  solidify  the  North.  In- 
deed, this  is  already  being  done.  Seymour  and  Blair,  in 
1868,  on  a  platform  declaring  the  amendments  null  and 
void,  were  beaten  in  the  North  by  Grant,  the  hero  of  the 
war,  by  less  than  100,000  votes.  Mr.  Harrison,  twenty 
years  later,  beat  Cleveland  with  a  flawless  record  and  a 
careful  platform,  over  450,000  votes  in  the  northern  States. 
The  solid  South  invites  the  solid  North.  From  this  status 
the  South  has  little  to  hope.  The  North  is  already  in  the 
majority.  More  than  five  million  immigrants  have  poured 
into  her  States  in  the  past  ten  years,  and  will  be  declared  in 
the  next  census.  Four  new  States  will  give  her  eight  new 
senators  and  twelve  electoral  votes.  In  the  South  but  one 
State  has  kept  pace  with  the  West — and  that  one,  Texas, 
has  largely  gained  at  the  expense  of  the  Atlantic  States. 


\v.   (-I;ADV, 

Tin-  South  had  thirty-eighl  percent  01  tlie  electoral  vote 

in  1  sso.  It  is  doubtful  if  sln«  will  have  over  twenty -live  per 
ct-iit.  in  is:  to.  To  remain  solid,  therefore,  is  to  incur  tin; 
danger  of  being  placed  in  perpetual  minority,  and  practically 
shut  0111  from  participation  in  the  government,  into  which 
(Ji'oiuia  and  Massachusetts  came  as  equals — that  \\a^  I'a^h- 
ioned  in  their  common  wisdom,  defended  in  their  common 
blood,  and  bought  of  their  common  treasure. 

lint  what  of  the  other  dauber  '.  Can  we  risk  that  to 
avoid  the  first?  I  am  sure  we  cannot.  The  very  worst 
thing  that  could  happen  to  the  South  is  to  have  her  white 
vote  divided  into  factions,  and  each  faction  bidding  for  the 
negro  who  holds  the  balance  of  power.  What  is  this  n 
vote?  In  every  southern  State  it  is  considerable,  and  I 
fear  it  is  increasing.  It  is  alien,  being  separated  by  racial 
differences  that  are  deep  and  permanent.  It  is  ignorant — 
easily  deluded  or  betrayed.  It  is  impulsive — lashed  by  a 
woid  into  violence.  It  is  purchasable,  having  the  incentive 
of  poverty  and  cupidity,  and  the  restraint  of  neither  pride 
nor  conviction.  It  can  never  be  merged  through  logical  or 
orderly  currents  into  either  of  two  parties,  if  two  should 
present  themselves.  We  cannot  be  rid  of  it.  There  it  is, 
a  vast  mass  of  impulsive,  ignorant  and  purchasable  votes. 
With  no  factions  between  which  to  swing  it  has  no  play  or 
dislocation  ;  but  thrown  from  one  faction  to  another  it  is 
the  loosed  cannon  on  the  storm-tossed  ship.  There  is  no 
community  that  would  deliberately  tempt  this  danger;  no 
social  or  political  fabric  that  could  stand  its  strain.  The 
Tweed  ring,  backed  by  a  similar  and  less  irresponsible  fol- 
lowing than  a  shrewd  clique  could  rally  and  control  in 
every  southern  State,  and  daring  less  of  plunder  and  inso- 
lence than  that  following  would  sanction  or  support, 
blotted  out  party  lines  in  New  York,  and  made  its  intelli- 
gence and  integrity  as  solid  as  the  South  ever  was.  Party 
lines  were  promptly  recast  because  New  York  had  to  deal 
with  the  vicious,  who  once  punished  may  be  trusted  to 
sulk  in  quiet  while  their  wounds  heal.  \Ve  deal  with  the 
ignorant,  that  scourged  from  power  jo-day,  may  be  deluded 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  127 

to-morrow  into  assaulting  the  very  position  from  which. 
they  have  been  lashed.  X<jver  did  robbers  find  followers 
more  to  their  mind  than  the  emancipated  slaves  of  recon- 
struction days.  Ignorant  and  confiding,  they  could  be  com- 
mitted to  any  excess,  led  to  any  outrage.  l)eep  as  was  the 
degradation  to  which  these  sovereign  States  were  carried, 
and  heavy  as  is  the  burden  they  left  on  this  impoverished 
people,  it  was  only  when  the  white  race,  rallying  from  the 
graves  of  its  dead  and  the  ashes  of  its  homes,  closed  its 
decimated  ranks,  and  fronting  federal  bayonets,  and  defy- 
ing federal  power,  stood  like  a  stone  wall  before  the  utter- 
most temples  of  its  liberty  and  credit,  and  the  hideous 
drama  closed,  that  the  miserable  assault  was  checked. 

Shall  those  ranks  be  broken  while  the  danger  still 
threatens  ? 

Let  the  whites  divide,  what  happens  \  Here  is  this 
dangerous  and  alien  influence  that  holds  the  balance  of 
power.  It  cannot  be  won  by  argument,  for  it  is  without 
information,  understanding  or  traditions — hence  without 
convictions.  It  must  be  bought  by  race  privileges  granted 
as  such,  or  by  money  paid  outright.  Let  us  follow  this  in 
its  twofold  aspect.  One  faction  gives  the  negro  certain 
privileges  and  wins.  The  other  offers  more.  The  first  bids 
under,  and  so  the  sickening  work  goes  on  until  the  barriers 
that  now  protect  the  social  integrity  and  peace  of  both  races 
are  swept  away.  The  negro  gains  nothing,  for  he  secures 
these  spoils  and  privileges  not  by  deserving  them,  or  quali- 
fying himself  for  them,  but  as  the  plunder  of  an  irritating 
struggle  in  which  he  loses  that  largeness  of  sympathy 
and  tolerance  that  is  at  last  essential  to  his  well-being  and 
advancement.  The  other  aspect  is  as  bad.  One  side  puts 
up  five  thousand  dollars  for  the  purchase  of  the  negro  vote 
and  wins.  The  other,  declining  at  first  to  corrupt  the  suf- 
frage, but  realizing  at  last  that  the  administration  on  which 
his  life  and  property  depends  is  at  stake,  doubles  this,  and 
so  the  debauching  deepens  until  at  last  such  enormous 
sums  are  spent  that  they  must  be  recouped  from  the  public 
treasuries.  Good  men  disgust  ed  g<  >  to  the  rear.  The  shrewd 


128  HKNRY   \v.   <;i:.u>y, 

mid  unscrupulous  :uv  put  to  tin-  front,  and  the  negro,  car- 
rying \\ith  him  the  balance  of  power,  falls  at  last  into  the 
gra«sp  of  I  IK-  faction  which  is  most  cunning  ami  conscience- 
National  parties,  finding  here  their  cheapest  market 
and  wid.-M  lield.  will  pour  millions  into  tin-  South,  adding 
to  the  corruption  funds  of  municipal  and  State  factions 
until  the  ballot-box  will  be  hopelessly  debauched,  all  the 
approaches  thereto  corrupt,  and  all  the  results  therefrom 
tainted. 

I  understand  perfectly  that  this  is  not  the  largest  view 
of  this  question  to  take.  The  larger  interests  of  this  sec- 
tion and  of  the  Union  do  not  rest  here.  I  deplore  this  fact. 
I  would  that  the  South,  fettered  by  no  circumstances  and 
embarrassed  by  no  problem,  could  take  her  place  by  the 
side  of  her  sister  States,  making  alliance  as  her  interest  or 
patriotism  suggested. 

Let  me  say  here  that  I  yield  to  no  man  in  my  love  for 
this  T 11  ion.  I  was  taught  from  my  cradle  to  love  it,  and 
my  fa  I  her,  loving  it  to  the  last,  nevertheless  gave  his  life 
for  Georgia  when  she  asked  it  at  his  hands.  Loving  the 
Union  as  he  did,  yet  would  I  do  unto  Georgia  even  as 
he  did.  I  said  once  in  New  York,  and  I  repeat  it  here, 
honoring  his  memory  as  I  do  nothing  on  this  earth,  I  still 
thank  God  that  the  American  conflict  was  adjudged  by 
higher  wisdom  than  his  or  mine,  that  the  honest  purposes 
of  the  South  were  crossed,  her  brave  armies  beaten,  and 
the  American  Union  saved  from  the  storm  of  war.  I  love 
this  Union  because  I  am  an  American  citizen.  I  love  it  be- 
cause it  stands  in  the  light  while  other  nations  are  groping 
in  the  dark.  I  love  it  because  here,  in  this  republic  of  a 
homogeneous  people,  must  be  worked  out  the  great  prob- 
lems that  perplex  the  world  and  established  the  axioms 
that  must  uplift  and  regenerate  humanity.  I  love  it  be- 
cause it  is  my  country,  and  my  State  stood  by  when  its  flag 
was  once  unfurled,  and  uplifted  her  stainless  sword,  and 
pledged  "her  life,  her  property  and  her  sacred  honor,'' 
and  when  the  last  star  glittered  from  the  silken  folds,  and 
with  ln-r  precious  blood  wrote  her  loyalty  in  its  crimson 


HIS   LIFE,    WULTl.MiS,    AM)    SI'KKCIIES.  129 

bars.  I  love  it,  because  I  know  that  its  Hag,  fluttering  from 
t  In1  misty  heights  of  the  future,  followed  by  a  devoted  people 
once  estranged  and  thereby  closer  bound,  shall  blaze  out 
the  \vay,  and  make  clear  the  path  up  which  all  the  nations 
of  the  earth  shall  come  in  God's  appointed  time. 

I  know  the  ideal  status  is  that  every  State  should  vote 
without  regard  to  sectional  lines.  The  reconciliation  of  the 
people  will  never  be  complete  until  Io\va  and  Georgia, 
Texas  and  Massachusetts  may  stand  side  by  side  without 
sin-prise.  I  would  to  God  that  status  could  be  reached  !  If 
any  man  can  define  a  path  on  which  the  whites  of  the 
South,  though  divided,  can  walk  in  honor  and  peace,  I 
shall  take  that  path,  though  I  walk  down  it  alone — for  at 
the  end  of  that  path,  and  nowhere  else,  lies  the  full  eman- 
cipation of  my  section  and  the  full  restoration  of  this  Union. 

But  it  cannot  be.  When  the  negro  was  enfranchised, 
the  South  was  condemned  to  solidity  as  surely  as  self- 
preservation  is  the  first  law  of  nature.  A  State  here 
or  there  may  drift  away,  but  it  will  come  back  assur- 
edly— and  come  through  such  travail,  and  bearing  such 
burden,  as  neither  war  nor  pestilence  can  bring.  This 
problem  is  not  of  our  seeking.  It  was  thrust  upon  us  not 
in  the  orderly  unfolding  of  a  preordained  plan,  but  in  hot 
impulse  and  passion,  against  the  judgment  of  the  world 
and  the  lessons  of  history,  and  to  the  peril  of  popular 
government,  which  rests  at  last  on  a  pure  and  unsullied 
suffrage  as  a  building  rests  on  its  cornerstone.  If  it  be 
urged  that  it  was  the  inexorable  result  of  our  course  in 
1860,  we  reply  that  we  took  that  course  in  deliberation, 
maintained  it  in  sincerity,  sealed  it  with  the  blood  of  our 
best  and  bravest — and  we  accept  without  complaint,  and 
abide  in  dignity,  its  direct  and  ultimate  results,  and  shall 
hold  it  to  be,  in  spite  of  defeat,  forever  honorable  and 
sacred.  This  much  I  add.  No  king  that  ever  sat  on  a 
throne,  though  backed  by  autocratic  power,  would  have 
dared  to  subject  his  kingdom  to  the  strain,  and  his  people 
to  the  burden  that  the  Xorth  put  on  the  prostrate,  impov- 
erished, and  helpless  South  when  it  enfranchised  the  body 


HENKY    W.    GRADY, 

of  our  late  slaves.     We  would  not  undo  this  if  we  could. 
\\'e  know  that  this  step,  though  taken  in  haste,  shall  never 
be  retraced.      Posterity  will  judge  of  the  wisdom  and. 
patriotism   in  which  it  was  ordered,  and  the  order  and 
equity  in  which  it  was  worked  out. 

To  that  judgment  we,  appeal  with  confidence.  From 
that  judgment  Mr.  Elaine  has  already  appealed  by  shrewdly 
urging  in  his  written  history,  that  the  North  did  not  intend 
to  enfranchise  the  negro,  but  was  forced  to  do  it  by  the 
stubborn  attitude  of  the  South.  Be  that  as  it  may,  it  is 
our  problem  now,  and  with  resolute  hands  and  unfailing 
In -a  its  we  must  carry  it  to  the  end.  It  dominates,  and  will 
dominate,  all  other  issues  with  us.  Political  spoils  are 
not  to  be  considered.  The  administration  of  our  affairs  is 
secondary,  and  patronage  is  less.  Economic  issues  are  a's 
naught,  and  even  great  moral  reforms  must  wait  on  the 
settlement  of  this  question.  To  quarrel  over  other  issues 
while  this  is  impending  is  to  imitate  the  mother  quail  that 
thrums  the  leaves  afar  from  her  nest,  or  recall  the  finesse 
of  the  Spartan  boy  who  smiled  in  his  mother's  face  while 
he  hid  the  fox  that  was  gnawing  at  his  vitals. 

What  then  is  the  duty  of  the  South  ?  Simply  this. 
To  maintain  the  political  as  well  as  the  social  integrity  of 
her  white  race,  and  to  appeal  to  the  world  for  patience  and 
justice.  Let  us  show  that  it  is  not  sectional  prejudice,  but 
a  sectional  problem  that  keeps  us  compacted ;  that  it  is 
not  the  hope  of  dominion  or  power,  but  an  abiding  neces- 
sity— not  spoils  or  patronage,  but  plain  self-preservation 
that  holds  the  white  race  together  in  the  South.  Let  us 
make  this  so  plain  that  a  community  anywhere,  searching  its 
own  heart,  would  say :  "  The  necessity  that  binds  our  broth- 
ers in  the  South  would  bind  us  as  closely  were  the  neces- 
sity here."  Let  us  invite  immigrants  and  meet  them  with 
such  cordial  welcome  that  they  will  abide  with  us  in  broth- 
erhood, and  so  enlarge  the  body  of  intelligence  and  integ- 
rity, that  divided  it  may  carry  the  burden  of  ignorance 
without  danger.  Let  us  be  loyal  to  the  Union,  and  not 
only  loyal  but  loving.  Let  the  republic  know  that  in 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  131 

peace  it  hath  nowhere  better  citizens,  nor  in  war  braver 
soldiers,  than  in  these  States.  Though  set  apart  by  this 
problem  which  God  permits  to  rest  upon  us,  and  which 
therefore  is  right,  let  us  garner  our  sheaves  gladly  into  the 
harvest  of  the  Union,  and  find  joy  in  our  work  and  pro- 
gress, because  it  makes  broader  the  glory  and  deeper  the 
majesty  of  this  republic  that  is  cemented  with  our  blood. 
Let  us  love  the  flag  that  waved  over  Marion  and  Jasper, 
that  waves  over  us,  and  which  when  we  are  gathered  to  our 
fathers  shall  be  a  guarantee  of  liberty  and  prosperity  to 
our  children,  and  our  children's  children,  and  know  that 
what  we  do  in  honor  shall  deepen,  and  what  we  do  in  dis- 
honor shall  dim,  the  luster  of  its  fixed  and  glittering  stars. 
As  for  the  negro,  let  us  impress  upon  him  what  he 
already  knows,  that  his  best  friends  are  the  people  among 
whom  he  lives,  whose  interests  are  one  with  his,  and 
whose  prosperity  depends  on  his  perfect  contentment. 
Let  us  give  him  his  uttermost  rights,  and  measure  out  jus- 
tice to  him  in  that  fullness  the  strong  should  always  give 
to  the  weak.  Let  us  educate  him  that  he  may  be  a  better, 
a  broader,  and  more  enlightened  man.  Let  us  lead  him  in 
steadfast  ways  of  citizenship,  that  he  may  not  longer  be 
the  sport  of  the  thoughtless,  and  the  prey  of  the  unscru- 
pulous. Let  us  inspire  him  to  follow  the  example  of  the 
worthy  and  upright  of  his  race,  who  may  be  found  in  every 
community,  and  who  increase  steadily  in  numbers  and  in- 
fluence. Let  us  strike  hands  with  him  as  friends — and  as 
in  slavery  we  led  him  to  heights  which  his  race  in  Africa 
had  never  reached,  so  in  freedom  let  us  lead  him  to  a  pros- 
perity of  which  his  friends  in  the  North  have  not  dreamed. 
Let  us  make  him  know  that  he,  depending  more  than 
any  other  on  the  protection  and  bounty  of  government, 
shall  find  in  alliance  with  the  best  elements  of  the  whites 
the  pledge  of  safe  and  impartial  administration.  And  let 
us  remember  this — that  whatever  wrong  we  put  on  him 
shall  return  to  punish  us.  Whatever  we  take  from  him  in 
violence,  that  is  unworthy  and  shall  not  endure.  What  we 
steal  from  him  in  fraud,  that  is  worse.  But  what  we  win 


\v. 

from  him  in  sympathy  :ui<l  affection,  wii at  we  gain  in  his 
ronfidini;-  alliance  and  confirm  in  his  awakening  judg- 
ment, that  is  precious  and  shall  endure— and  out  of  il  shall 
conn-  healing  and  peace. 

What  is  the  attitude  of  the  North  on  this  issue  ?  Two 
propositions  appear  to  be  universally  declared  by  the 
Republicans.  First,  that  the  negro  vote  of  the  South  is 
suppressed  by  violence,  or  miscounted  by  fraud.  Second, 
that  it  shall  be  freely  cast  and  fairly  counted.  While 
Republicans  agree  on  these  declarations,  there  are  those 
who  hold  them  sincerely,  but  would  be  glad  to  see  Ihe  first 
disapproved,  and  the  second  thereby  wiped  out — and 
those  who  hold  them  in  malignity,  and  who  will  maintain 
the  first  that  they  may  justify  the  storm  that  lies  hid  in 
the  second. 

Let  us  send  to-day  a  few  words  to  the  fair-minded  Re- 
publicans of  the  North.  Here  is  a  fundamental  assertion — 
the  negroes  of  the  South  can  never  be  kept  in  antagonism 
with  their  white  neighbors — for  the  intimacy  and  friendli- 
ness of  the  relation  forbids.  This  friendliness,  the  most 
important  factor  of  the  problem — the  saving  factor  now  as 
always — the  North  has  never,  and  it  appears  will  never, 
take  account  of.  It  explains  that  otherwise  inexplicable 
thing — the  fidelity  and  loyalty  of  the  negro  during  the  war 
to  the  women  and  children  left  in  his  care.  Had  Uncle 
Tom's  Cabin  portrayed  the  habit  rather  than  the  exception 
of  slavery,  the  return  of  the  Confederate  armies  could 
not  have  stayed  the  horrors  of  arson  and  murder  their  de- 
parture would  have  invited.  Instead  of  that,  witness  the 
miracle  of  the  slave  in  loyalty  closing  the  fetters  about  his 
own  limbs — maintaining  the  families  of  those  who  fought 
against  his  freedom — and  at  night  on  the  far-off  battle- 
field searching  among  the  carnage  for  his  young  master, 
that  he  might  lift  the  dying  head  to  his  humble  breast  and 
with  rough  hands  wipe  the  blood  away,  and  bend  his  ten- 
der ear  to  catch  the  last  words  for  the  old  ones  at  home, 
wrestling  meanwhile  in  agony  and  love,  that  in  vicarious 
sacrifice  he  would  have  laid  down  his  life  in  his  master's 


ins   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  133 

stead.  This  friendliness,  thank  God,  has  survived  the 
lapse  of  years,  the  interruption  of  factions,  and  the  violence 
of  campaigns,  in  which  the  bayonet  fortified,  and  the 
drum-beat  inspired.  Though  unsuspected  in  slavery,  it 
explains  the  miracle  of  '64 — though  not  yet  confessed,  it 
must  explain  the  miracle  of  1888. 

Can  a  Northern  man  dealing  with  casual  servants, 
querulous,  sensitive,  and  lodged  for  a  day  in  a  sphere  they 
resent,  understand  the  close  relations  of  the  races  of  the 
South  ?  Can  he  comprehend  the  open-hearted,  sympathetic 
negro,  contented  in  his  place,  full  of  gossip  and  comrade- 
ship, the  companion  of  the  hunt,  the  frolic,  the  furrow, 
and  the  home,  standing  in  kindly  dependence  that  is  the 
habit  of  his  blood,  and  lifting  not  his  eyes  beyond  the  nar- 
row horizon  that  shuts  him  in  with  his  neighbors  ?  This 
relation  may  be  interrupted,  but  permanent  estrangement 
can  never  come  between  these  two  races.  It  is  upon  this 
that  the  South  depends.  By  fair  dealing  and  by  sympathy 
to  deepen  this  friendship  and  add  thereto  the  moral  effect 
of  the  better  elements  compacted,  with  the  wealth  and 
intelligence  and  influence  lodged  therein — it  is  this  upon 
which  the  South  has  relied  for  years,  and  upon  which  she 
will  rest  in  future. 

Against  this  no  outside  power  can  prevail.  That  there 
has  been  violence  is  admitted.  There  has  also  been  bru- 
tality in  the  North.  But  I  do  not  believe  there  was  a  negro 
voter  in  the  South  kept  away  from  the  polls  by  fear  of  vio- 
lence in  the  late  election.  I  believe  there  were  fewer  votes 
miscounted  in  the  South  than  in  the  North.  Even  in  those 
localities  where  violence  once  occurred,  wiser  counsels  have 
prevailed,  and  reliance  is  placed  on  those  higher  and  legiti- 
mate and  inexorable  methods  by  which  the  superior  race 
always  dominates,  and  by  which  intelligence  and  integrity 
always  resist  the  domination  of  ignorance  and  corruption. 
If  the  honest  Republicans  of  the  North  permit  a  scheme  of 
federal  supervision,  based  on  the  assumption  of  intimi- 
dated voters  and  a  false  count,  they  will  blunder  from  the 
start,  for,  beginning  in  error,  they  will  end  in  worse.  This 


l;;<  H  KXKY    W.    GRADT, 

whole  matter  should  be  left  now  with  tho  people,  with 
whom  it  must  be  left  at  last — that  people  most  interested 
in  its  honorable  settlement.  External  pressure  but  irri- 
tates and  delays.  The  South  has  voluntarily  laid  down 
tin-  certainty  of  power  which  dividing  JUT  States  would 
bring,  that  she  might  solve  this  problem  in  the  deliberation 
and  the  calmness  it  demands.  She  turns  away  from  spoils, 
knowing  that  to  struggle  for  them  would  bring  irritation 
to  endanger  greater  things.  She  postpones  reforms  and 
surrenders  economic  convictions,  that  unembarrassed  she 
may  deal  with  this  great  issue.  And  she  pledges  her  sacred 
honor — by  all  that  she  has  won,  and  all  that  she  has  suf- 
fered— that  she  will  settle  this  problem  in  such  full  and 
exact  justice  as  the  finite  mind  can  measure,  or  finite  hands 
administer.  On  this  pledge  she  asks  the  patience  and 
waiting  judgment  of  the  world,  and  especially  of  the  peo- 
ple— her  brothers  and  her  kindred — that  in  passion  forced 
this  problem  into  the  keeping  of  her  helpless  hands. 

Shall  she  have  i  t  '. 

Let  us  see.  Was  there  a  pistol  shot  through  the  South 
on  election  day  ?  Was  there  a  riot  ?  Was  there  anything 
to  equal  the  disturbance  and  arrests  in  President  Har- 
rison's own  city?  If  so,  diligent  search  has  not  found  it. 
Where  then  was  the  vote  suppressed  through  violence? 
In  the  12,000  election  precincts  of  the  South,  where  was 
a  ballot-box  rifled,  or  a  registry  list  altered?  Thirteen 
Republican  congressmen  were  elected,  many  of  them  by 
majorities  so  slender  that  the  vote  of  a  single  precinct 
would  have  changed  the  result.  In  West  Virginia,  with 
its  wild  and  lawless  districts,  the  governorship  hangs  on 
less  than  three  hundred  votes,  and  this  very  day  the  gover- 
nor of  Tennessee  and  his  cabinet  are  passing  on  a  legal 
question  in  the  casting  of  twenty-three  votes  that  elects  or 
defeats  a  congressman.  In  West  Virginia  and  in  Tennessee 
the  law  will  be  applied  as  impartially  and  the  official  vote 
held  as  sacred  as  in  New  York  or  Ohio.  Where,  then,  is 
the  wholesale  fraud  of  which  complaint  is  made  ? 

In  the  face  of  this  showing,  let  me  quote  from  an  edi- 


IflS   LIFK,    WHITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  135 

torial  in  the  Chicago  Tribune,  one  of  the  most  powerful 
and  a  usually  conservative  journal,  charging  that  the  negro 
vote  is  suppressed  and  miscounted.  It  says  : 

"  The  trouble  is,  the  blacks  will  not  fight  for  themselves.  White 
men,  or  Indians,  situated  as  the  negroes,  would  have  made  the  rivers 
of  the  South  run  red  with  blood  before  they  would  submit  to  the  usur- 
pations and  wrongs  with  which  the  black  passively  endure.  Oppressed 
by  generations  of  slavery,  the  negroes  are  non-combatants.  They  will 
not  shoot  and  burn  for  their  rights." 

Mark  the  unspeakable  infamy  of  this  suggestion.  The 
"trouble  "  is  that  the  negroes  will  not  rise  and  shoot  and 
burn.  Not  the  "mercy"  is  that  they  do  not — but  the 
"  mercy  "  is  that  they  will  not  massacre  and  begin  the 
strife  that  would  repeat  the  horrors  of  Hayti  in  the 
various  States  of  this  Republic.  Burn  and  shoot  for  what  ? 
That  they  may  vote  in  Georgia,  where  in  front  of  me  in 
the  line  stood  a  negro,  whose  place  was  as  sacred  as  mine, 
and  whose  vote  as  safely  counted  \  That  they  may  vote  in 
the  thirteen  districts  in  which  they  have  elected  their  con- 
gressmen ? — in  the  320  counties  in  which  they  have  elected 
their  representatives,  and  in  old  Virginia,  where  they  came 
within  1400  votes  of  carrying  the  State  ? 

As  the  60,000  Virginia  negroes  who  did  vote  did  so  in 
admitted  peace  and  safety,  where  was  the  violence  that 
prevented  the  needed  1400  from  leaving  their  fields, 
coming  to  the  ballot-box,  and  giving  the  State  to  the 
Republicans  ?  And  yet  slavery  itself,  in  which  the  selling 
of  a  child  from  its  mother's  arms  and  a  wife  from  her 
husband  was  permitted,  never  brought  into  reputable  print 
so  villainous  a  suggestion  as  this,  leveled  by  a  knave  at  a 
political  condition  which  he  views  from  afar,  and  which  it 
is  proved  does  not  exist.  To  pass  by  the  man  who  wrote 
these  words,  how  shall  we  judge  the  temper  of  a  com- 
munity in  which  they  are  applauded?  Are  these  men 
blood  of  our  blood  that  they  permit  such  things  to  go 
unchallenged?  Better -that  they  had  refused  us  parole  at 
Appomattox  and  had  confiscated  the  ruins  of  our  homes, 
than  twenty  years  later  to  bring  us  under  the  dominion  of 


,KY    W 


such   passion    as    this.       Hear    another     witness, 
Sherman,  not  in  hot  ^peech  but  in  cold  prim  ; 


'   Hie  »  -i"  must  he  ;il  lowed  to  vote,  and  hi  ••<  muted, 

otherwise,  so  sure   as    tin-re    is  a  God  in  IK  i  will  have  another 

war,  more  cruel    than   the   last,  when    the   torch   and  da^vr  will  take 
the  plaee  of  then:1  .veil-ordered  battalions.     Should  the 

strike,  that  blow,  in  .seeming  justice,  tin-re    will   be  million 
them." 

And  this  is  the  greatest  living  soldier  of  the  Union 
army.  He  covered  the  devolution  he  sowed  in  city  and 
country  through  thes  >  with  the,  maxim  that 

"cruelty  in  war,  is  mercy  "—  and  no  one  lifted  the  cloak. 
But  when  he  insults  the  men  he  conquered,  and  enda.': 
the  renewing  growth  of  the  country  he  wasted,  with  this 
unmanly  threat,  he  puts  a  stain  on  his  name  the  maxims 
of  philosophy  and  fable  from  Socrates  all  the  way  cannot 
cover,  and  the  glory  of  Maiiborongh,  were  it  added  to  his 
own,  could  not  efface. 

No  answer  can  be  made  in  passion  to  these  men.  If  the 
temper  of  the  North  is  expressed  in  their  words,  the  South 
can  do  nothing  but  rally  her  sons  for  their  last  defense  and 
await  in  silence  what  the  future  may  bring  forth.  This 
much  should  be  said  :  The  negro  can  never  be  established 
in  dominion  over  the  white  race  of  the  South.  The  sword 
of  Grant  and  the  bayonets  of  his  army  could  not  maintain 
them  in  the  supremacy  they  had  won  from  the  help 
ness  of  our  people.  No  sword  drawn  by  mortal  man,  no 
army  martialed  by  mortal  hand,  can  replace  them  in  the 
supremacy  from  which  they  were  cast  down  by  our  people, 
for  the  Lord  God  Almighty  decreed  otherwise  when  he 
created  these  races,  and  the  miming  sword  of  his  arch- 
angel will  enforce  his  decree  and  work  out  his  plan  of 
unchangeable  wisdom. 

I  do  not  believe  the  people  of  the  North  will  be  com- 
mitted to  a  violent  policy.  I  believe  in  the  good  faith 
and  fair  play  of  the  American  people.  These  noisy  inlets 
of  the  hour  will  perish  with  the  heat  that  warmed  them 
into  life,  and  when  their  pestilent  cries  have  ceased,  the 


ins  LJ FK,   wi;rn\<;s,   AND  SPKKCIIKS. 

.uTc.it.  clock  of  the  Republic  will  strike  the  slow-moving  and 
t.r;mquil  hours,  and  the  watchmen  from  the  st  reels  will  cry, 
"  All's  well  all's  well  !  "  1  thank  God  that  through  the 
mists  of  passion  that  already  cloud  our  northern  hori/on 
comes  the  clear,  strong  voice  of  President  Harrison  declar- 
ing that  the  South  shall  not  suffer,  but  shall  prosper,  in 
his  election.  Happy  will  it  be  for  us — happy  for  this 
country,  and  happy  for  his  name  and  fame,  if  he  has  the 
courage  to  withstand  the  demagogues  who  clamor  for  our 
crucifixion,  and  the  wisdom  to  establish  a  path  in  which 
voters  of  all  parties  and  of  all  sections  may  walk  together 
in  peace  and  prosperity. 

Should  the  President  yield  to  the  demands  of  the  pesti- 
lent, the  country  will  appeal  from  his  decision.  In  Indiana 
and  New  York  more  than -two  million  votes  were  cast.  By 
less  than  1C, 000  majority  these  States  were  given  to  Harri- 
son, and  his  election  thereby  secured.  A  change  of  less 
than  ten  thousand  in  this  enormous  poll  would  restore  the 
Democratic  party  to  power.  If  President  Harrison  permits 
this  unrighteous  crusade  on  the  peace  of  the  South,  and 
the  prosperity  of  the  people,  this  change  and  more  will  be 
made,  and  the  Democratic  party  restored  to  power. 

In  her  industrial  growth  the  South  is  daily  making  new 
friends.  Every  dollar  of  Northern  money  invested  in  the 
South  gives  us  a  new  friend  in  that  section.  Every  settler 
among  us  raises  up  new  witnesses  to  our  fairness,  sincerity 
and  loyalty.  We  shall  secure  from  the  North  more  friend- 
liness and  sympathy,  more  champions  and  friends,  through 
the  influence  of  our  industrial  growth,  than  through  politi- 
cal aspiration  or  achievement.  Few  men  can  comprehend — 
would  that  I  had  the  time  to  dwell  on  this  point  to-day- 
how  vast  has  been  the  development,  how  swift  the  growth, 
and  how  deep  and  enduring  is  laid  the  basis  of  even  greater 
growth  in  the  future.  Companies  of  immigrants  sent  down 
from  the  sturdy  settlers  of  the  North  will  solve  the 
Southern  problem,  and  bring  this  section  into  full  and 
harmonious  relations  with  the  North  quicker  than  all  the 
battalions  that  could  be  armed  and  martialed  could  do. 


138  IIKNKY     \\  .    <,  i:\DY, 

The  tid»-  of  immigration  is  already  >j>ri Hiring  this  way. 
Let  us  encourage  it.  But  let  us  see  that  these  immigrants 
come  in  well-ordered  procession,  and  not  pell-mell.  That 
they  come  as  friends  and  neighbors — to  mingle  their  blood 
with  ours,  to  build  their  homes  on  our  fields,  to  plant  tli«-ir 
Christian  faith  on  these  red  hills,  and  not  seeking  to  plant 
strange  heresies  of  government  and  faith,  but,  honoring  our 
constitution  and  reverencing  our  God,  to  confirm,  and  not 
estrange,  the  simple  faith  in  which  we  have  been  reared, 
and  which  we  should  transmit  unsullied  to  our  children. 

It  may  be  that  the  last  hope  of  saving  the  old-fashioned 
on  this  continent  will  be  lodged  in  the  South.  Strange 
admixtures  have  brought  strange  results  in  the  North. 
The  anarchist  and  atheist  walk  abroad  in  the  cities,  and, 
defying  government,  deny  God.  Culture  has  refined  for 
itself  new  and  strange  religions  from  the  strong  old  creeds. 

The  old-time  South  is  fading  from  observance,  and  the 
mellow  church-bells  that  called  the  people  to  the  temples 
of  God  are  being  tabooed  and  silenced.  Let  us,  my  coun- 
trymen, here  to-day — yet  a  homogeneous  and  God-fearing 
people — let  us  highly  resolve  that  we  will  carry  untainted 
the  straight  and  simple  faith — that  we  will  give  ourselves 
to  the  saving  of  the  old-fashioned,  that  we  will  wear  in  our 
hearts  the  prayers  we  learned  at  our  mother's  knee,  and 
seek  no  better  faith  than  that  which  fortified  her  life 
through  adversity,  and  led  her  serene  and  smiling  through 
the  valley  of  the  shadow. 

Let  us  keep  sacred  the  Sabbath  of  God  in  its  purity,  and 
have  no  city  so  great,  or  village  so  small,  that  every  Sun- 
day morning  shall  not  stream  forth  over  towns  and  mead- 
ows the  golden  benediction  of  the  bells,  as  they  summon 
the  people  to  the  churches  of  their  fathers,  and  ring  out  in 
praise  of  God  and  the  power  of  His  might.  Though  other 
people  are  led  into  the  bitterness  of  unbelief,  or  into  the 
stagnation  of  apathy  and  neglect — let  us  keep  these  two 
States  in  the  current  of  the  sweet  old-fashioned,  that  the 
sweet  rushing  waters  may  lap  their  sides,  and  everywhere 
from  their  soil  grow  the  tree,  the  leaf  whereof  shall  not 


HIS    LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  139 

fade  and  the  fruit  whereof  shall  not  die,  but  the  fruit 
whereof  shall  be  meat,  and  the  leaf  whereof  shall  be  healing. 

In  working  out  our  civil,  political,  and  religious  salva- 
tion, everything  depends  on  the  union  of  our  people.  The 
man  who  seeks  to  divide  them  now  in  the  hour  of  their 
trial,  that  man  puts  ambition  before  patriotism.  A  distin- 
guished gentleman  said  that  "certain  upstarts  and  specu- 
lators were  seeking  to  create  a  new  South  to  the  derision 
and  disparagement  of  the  old,"  and  rebukes  them  for  so 
doing.  These  are  cruel  and  unjust  words.  It  was  Ben 
Hill — the  music  of  whose  voice  hath  not  deepened,  though 
now  attuned  to  the  symphonies  of  the  skies — who  said : 
"  There  was  a  South  of  secession  and  slavery — that  South 
is  dead  ;  there  is  a  South  of  union  and  freedom — that  South, 
thank  God,  is  living,  growing,  every  hour." 

It  was  he  who  named  the  New  South.  One  of  the  "  up- 
starts "  said  in  a  speech  in  New  York  :  "In  answering  the 
toast  to  the  New  South,  I  accept  that  name  in  no  dispar- 
agement to  the  Old  South.  Dear  to  me,  sir,  is  the  home 
of  my  childhood  and  the  traditions  of  my  people,  and  not 
for  the  glories  of  New  England  history  from  Plymouth 
Rock  all  the  way,  would  I  surrender  the  least  of  these. 
Never  shall  I  do,  or  say,  aught  to  dim  the  luster  of  the 
glory  of  my  ancestors,  won  in  peace  and  war." 

Where  is  the  young  man  in  the  South  who  has  spoken 
one  word  in  disparagement  of  our  past,  or  has  worn  lightly 
the  sacred  traditions  of  our  fathers  ?  The  world  has  not 
equaled  the  unquestioning  reverence  and  undying  loyalty 
of  the  young  man  of  the  South  to  the  memory  of  our 
fathers.  History  has  not  equaled  the  cheerfulness  and 
heroism  with  which  they  bestirred  themselves  amid  the 
poverty  that  was  their  legacy,  and  holding  the  inspiration 
of  their  past  to  be  better  than  rich  acres  and  garnered 
wealth,  went  out  to  do  their  part  in  rebuilding  the  fallen 
fortunes  of  the  South  and  restoring  her  fields  to  their  pris- 
tine beauty.  Wherever  they  have  driven — in  market- 
place, putting  youth  against  experience,  poverty  against 
capital — in  the  shop  earning  in  the  light  of  their  forges 


I  JO  III.NKY     \\  .    <,i:\I»Y, 

and  the  s\\«-at  of  tln-ir  j'ac.-s  th<-  bivad  and  meat  for  those 
dependent  upon  tin-in  in  the  forum,  eloquent  by  instinct, 
able  though  uni  oji  the  farm,  locking  the  sunshine 

in  their  h:nv<-sts  and  spreading  the  showers  on  their  li.-lds 

my  In-art  has  been  with  them,  and  I  thank  (iod 
thai  they  are  comrades  and  countrymen  of  mine.  I  have 
stood  with  1  hem  should-'!-  to  shoulder  as  th<-y  met  m-w  con- 
ditions \\ithout  surrendering  old  faiths-  and  I  have  been 
content:  MM- grasp  of  their  hands  and  the  throb  of 

their  hearts,  and  hear  the  music  of  their  quick  step  as  they 
marched  1111  fearing  into  ne\v  and  untried  ways.  If  I  should 
ait '-nipt  to  prostitute  the  generous  enthusiasm  of  these 
my  comrades  to  my  own  ambition,  I  should  be  unworthy. 
If  any  man  enwrapping  himself  in  the  sacred  memories  of 
the  Old  South,  should  prostitute  them  to  the  hiding  of  his 
weakness,  or  the  strengthening  of  his  failing  fortunes,  that 
man  would  be  unworthy.  If  any  man  for  his  own  advan- 
tage should  seek  to  divide  the  old  South  from  the  new,  or 
the  new  from  the  old — to  separate  these  that  in  love  hath 
been  joined  together — to  estrange  the  son  from  his  father's 
grave  and  turn  our  children  from  the  monuments  of  our 
dead,  to  embitter  the  closing  days  of  our  veterans  with  SUST 
picion  of  tht- sons  who  shall  follow  them — this  man's  words 
are  unworthy  and  are  spoken  to  the  injury  of  his  people. 

Some  one  has  said  in  derision  that  the  old  men  of  the 
South,  sitting  down  amid  their  ruins,  reminded  him  "of 
the  Spanish  hidalgos  sitting  in  the  porches  of  the  Alham- 
bra,  and  looking  out  to  sea  for  the  return  of  the  lost 
Armada."  Then?  is  pathos  but  no  derision  in  this  picture 
to  me.  These  men  were  our  fathers.  Their  lives  were  stain- 

Their  hands  were  daintily  cast,  and  the  civili// 
they  builded  in  tender  and  ':g  grace  hath  not  been 

equaled.  The  scenes  amid  which  they  moved,  as  princes 
among  m«-n.  have  vanished  forever.  A  grosser  and  mate- 
rial day  has  come,  in  which  their  gentle  hands  could  gar- 
in'i-  but  scantily,  and  their  guileless  hearts  fend  but  feebly. 
iii-m  sit,  therefore,  in  the  dismantled  porches  of  their 
homes,  into  which  dishonor  hath  i  itered,  to  which 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  141 

discourtesy  is  a  stranger — and  gaze  out  to  the  sea,  beyond 
the  hori/on  of  which  their  armada  has  drifted  forever. 
And  though  the  sea  shall  not  render  back  for  them  the 
Arguses  that  went  down  in  their  ship,  let  us  build  for  them 
in  the  land  they  love  so  well  a  stately  and  enduring  tem- 
ple— its  pillars  founded  in  justice,  its  arches  springing  to 
the  skies,  its  treasuries  filled  with  substance  ;  liberty  walk- 
ing in  its  corridors  ;  art  adorning  its  walls  ;  religion  tilling 
its  aisles  with  incense, — and  here  let  them  rest  in  honora- 
ble peace  and  tranquillity  until  God  shall  call  them  hence 
to  "a  house  not  made  with  hands,  eternal  in  the  heavens." 
There  are  other  things  I  wish  to  say  to  you  to:day,  my 
countrymen,  but  my  voice  forbids.  I  thank  you  for  your 
courteous  and  patient  attention.  And  I  pray  to  God — who 
hath  led  us  through  sorrow  and  travail — that  on  this  day 
of  universal  thanksgiving,  when  every  Christian  heart  in 
this  audience  is  uplifted  in  praise,  that  He  will  open  the 
gates  of  His  glory  and  bend  down  above  us  in  mercy  and 
love  !  And  that  these  people  who  have  given  themselves 
unto  Him,  and  who  wear  His  faith  in  their  hearts,  that  He 
will  lead  them  even  as  little  children  are  led — that  He  will 
deepen  their  wisdom  with  the  ambition  of  His  words — that 
He  will  turn  them  from  error  with  the  touch  of  His 
almighty  hand — that  he  will  crown  all  their  triumphs  with 
the  light  of  His  approving  smile,  and  into  the  heart  of  their 
troubles,  whether  of  people  or  state,  that  He  will  pour  the 
healing  of  His  mercy  and  His  grace. 


142  IIl.NKI     \\  .    ORADY, 


AGAINST  CENTRALIZATION. 


A    DDRESS  DELIVERED  BEFORE  THE  SOCIETIES  OF  THE 
-£A_  UNIVERSITY  OF  VIRGINIA,  JUNE  25,  1889. 

MR.  PRESIDENT,  LADIES  AND  GENTLEMEN  :  In  thank- 
ing you  for  this  cordial — this  Virginia — welcome,  let  me 
say  that  it  satifies  my  heart  to  be  with  you  to-day.  This 
is  my  alma  mater.  Kind,  in  the  tolerant  patience  with 
which  she  winnowed  the  chaff  of  idle  days  and  idler  nights 
that  she  might  find  for  me  the  grain  of  knowledge  and  of 
truth,  and  in  the  charity  with  which  she  sealed  in  sorrow 
rather  than  in  anger  my  brief  but  stormy  career  within 
these  walls.  Kinder  yet,  that  her  old  heart  has  turned 
lovingly  after  the  lapse  of  twenty  years  to  her  scapegrace 
son  in  a  distant  State,  and  recalling  him  with  this  honora- 
ble commission,  has  summoned  him  to  her  old  place  at  her 
knees.  Here  at  her  feet,  with  the  glory  of  her  presence 
breaking  all  about  me,  let  me  testify  that  the  years  have 
but  deepened  my  reverence  and  my  love,  and  my  heart  has 
owned  the  magical  tenderness  of  the  emotions  first  kindled 
amid  these  sacred  scenes.  That  which  was  unworthy  has 
faded — that  which  was  good  has  abided.  Faded  the  mem- 
ory of  the  tempestuous  dyke  and  the  riotous  kalathump— 
dimmed  the  memory  of  that  society,  now  happily  extinct, 
but  then  famous  as  "  The  Nippers  from  Peru  "  —forgotten 
even  the  glad  exultation  of  those  days  when  the  neighbor- 
ing mountaineer  in  the  pride  of  his  breezy  heights  brought 
down  the  bandaged  bear  to  give  battle  to  the  urban  dog. 
Forgotten  all  these  follies,  and  let  us  hope  forgiven.  But, 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  143 

enduring  in  heart  and  in  brain,  the  exhaustless  splendor 
of  those  golden  days — the  deep  and  pure  inspiration  of 
these  academic  shades — the  kindly  admonition  and  wisdom 
of  the  masters — the  generous  ardor  of  our  mimic 'contests— 
and  that  loving  comradeship  that  laughed  at  separation 
and  has  lived  beyond  the  grave.  Enduring  and  hallowed, 
blessed  be  God,  the  strange  and  wild  ambitions  that  start- 
led my  boyish  heart  as  amid  these  dim  corridors,  oh  !  my 
mother,  the  stirring  of  unseen  wings  in  thy  mighty  past 
caught  my  careless  ear,  and  the  dazzling  ideals  of  thy 
future  were  revealed  to  my  wondering  sight. 

Gentlemen  of  the  literary  societies — I  have  no  studied 
oration  for  you  to-day.  A  life  busy  beyond  its  capacities 
has  given  scanty  time  for  preparation.  But  from  a  loving 
heart  I  shall  speak  to  you  this  morning  in  comradely  sym- 
pathy of  that  which  concerns  us  nearly. 

Will  you  allow  me  to  say  that  the  anxiety  that  always 
possesses  me  when  I  address  my  young  countrymen  is  to- 
day quickened  to  the  point  of  consecration.  For  the  first 
time  in  man's  responsibility  I  speak  in  Virginia  to  Vir- 
ginia. Beyond  its  ancient  glories  that  made  it  matchless 
among  States,  its  later  martyrdom  has  made  it  the  Mecca 
of  my  people.  It  was  on  these  hills  that  our  fathers  gave 
new  and  deeper  meaning  to  heroism,  and  advanced  the 
world  in  honor  !  It  is  in  these  valleys  that  our  dead  lie 
sleeping.  Out  there  is  Appomattox,  where  on  every  ragged 
gray  cap  the  Lord  God  Almighty  laid  the  sword  of  His 
imperishable  knighthood.  Beyond  is  Petersburg,  where 
he  whose  name  I  bear,  and  who  was  prince  to  me  among 
men,  dropped  his  stainless  sword  and  yielded  up  his  stain- 
less life.  Dear  to  me,  sir,  are  the  people  among  whom  my 
father  died — sacred  to  me,  sir,  the  soil  that  drank  his 
precious  blood.  From  a  heart  stirred  by  these  emotions 
and  sobered  by  these  memories,  let  me  speak  to  you  to-day, 
my  countrymen — and  God  give  me  wisdom  to  speak  aright 
and  the  words  wherewithal  to  challenge  and  -hold  your 
attention. 

We  are  standing  in  the  daybreak  of  the  second  century 


144  .  !>Y, 

of  this  Republic.  Th<-  ti.vd  stars  an-  fading  from  tin-  sky, 
and  in  uncertain  light.  Strange  shapes  have 

conic  \\ith  ill--  nielli.  Established  \\ays  are  lo>t  new 
roads  perpl.-x.  and  widening  fields  stretch  beyond  tlic 
siii'hk  The  unrest  of  dawn  ini]  •  io  and  fro-  but 

Ddubt  atelks  amid  the  confusion,  and  even  on  ilic  beaten 
paths  the  .shifting  crowds  are  halted,  and  from  the  shadows 

the  sent  ;  ;     "  \VJ|.  111  the  ob-rimty 

of  the  morning  tremendous  foi-  at  work.    Nothing 

is  steadfast  or  approved.  The.  miracles  of  ihe  j>reseni  belie 
the  simple  truths  of  the  past.  The  church  is  besieged  from 
without  and  betrayed  from  within.  Behind  the  courts 
smoulders  the  rioter's  torch  and  looms  the  gibbet  of  the 
anarchists.  Government  is  the  contention  of  parti.-ans 
and  the  prey  of  spoilsmen.  Trade  is  restless  in  the  i^rasp 
of  monopoly,  and  commerce  shackled  with  limitation.  The 
cities  are  swoll.-n  and  the  fields  are  stripped.  Splendor 
streams  from  the  castle,  and  squalor  crouches  in  tliel. 
The  universal  brotherhood  is  dissolving,  and  the  people  are 
huddling  into  classes.  The  hiss  of  the  Nihilist  disturbs 
the  covert,  and  the  roar  of  the  mob  murmurs  alonu;  the 
highway.  Amid  it  all  beats  the  great  American  heart 
undismayed,  and  standing  fast  by  the  challenge  of  his  con- 

.ice,  the  citizen  of  the  Republic,  tranquil  and  resolute, 
notes  the  drifting  of  the  spectral  currents,  and  calmly 
awaits  the  full  disclosures  of  the  day. 

Who  shall  be  the  heralds  of  this  coming  day  (  Who 
shall  thread  the  way  of  honor  and  safety  through  these 
•ting  problems  \  Who  shall  rally  the  people  to  the 
def.Mise  of  their  liberties  and  stir  them  until  they  shall  cry 
aloud  to  be  led  against  the  enemies  of  the  "Republic  (  You, 
my  countrymen,  you  1  The  uni  is  the  training  camp 

of  the  future.  The  scholar  the  champion  of  the  coming 
year-  oleon  over-ran  Europe  with  drum-tap  and 

bivouac — the  next    \apoleon   shall    form   his  battalie 
the  lap  of  the Schoolhouse  bell  and  his  captains  shall  come 
with  cap  and  gown.      \Vaterloo  was  won  at  Oxford — Sedan 
at  Berlin.     So  <  ;<-rnmiiy  plants  her  colleges  in  the  shadow 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  145 

of  the  French  forts,  and  the  professor  smiles  amid  his  stu- 
dents as  he  notes  the  sentinel  stalking  against  the  sky. 
The  farmer  has  learned  that  brains  mix  better  with  his  soil 
than  the  waste  of  seabirds,  and  the  professor  walks  by  his 
side  as  he  spreads  the  showers  in  the  verdure  of  his  field, 
and  locks  the  sunshine  in  the  glory  of  his  harvest.  A 
button  is  pressed  by  a  child's  finger  and  the  work  of  a 
million  men  is  done.  The  hand  is  nothing — the  brain 
everything.  Physical  prowess  has  had  its  day  and  the  age 
of  reason  has  come.  The  lion-hearted  Richard  challenging 
Saladin  to  single  combat  is  absurd,  for  even  Gog  and 
Magog  shall  wage  the  Armageddon  from  their  closets  and 
look  not  upon  the  blood  that  runs  to  the  bridle-bit.  Sci- 
ence is  everything  !  She  butchers  a  hog  in  Chicago,  draws 
Boston  within  three  hours  of  New  York,  renews  the  fam- 
ished soil,  routs  her  viewless  bondsmen  from  the  electric 
center  of  the  earth,  and  then  turns  to  watch  the  new  Icarus 
as  mounting  in  his  flight  to  the  sun  he  darkens  the  bur- 
nished ceiling  of  the  sky  with  the  shadow  of  his  wing. 

Learning  is  supreme  and  you  are  its  prophets.  Here 
the  Olympic  games  of  the  Republic — and  you  its  chosen 
athletes.  It  is  yours  then  to  grapple  with  these  problems, 
to  confront  and  master  these  dangers.  Yours  to  decide 
whether  the  tremendous  forces  of  this  Republic  shall  be 
kept  in  balance,  or  whether  unbalanced  they  shall  bring 
chaos  ;  whether  60,000,000  men  are  capable  of  self-govern- 
ment, or  whether  liberty  shall  be  lost  to  them  who  would 
give  their  lives  to  maintain  it.  Your  responsibility  is 
appalling.  You  stand  in  the  pass  behind  which  the  world's 
liberties  are  guarded.  This  government  carries  the  hopes 
of  the  human  race.  Blot  out  the  beacon  that  lights  the 
portals  of  this  Republic  and  the  world  is  adrift  again. 
But  save  the  Republic  ;  establish  the  light  of  its  beacon 
over  the  troubled  waters,  and  one  by  one  the  nations  of  the 
earth  shall  drop  anchor  and  be  at  rest  in  the  harbor  of 
universal  liberty.  Let  one  who  loves  this  Republic  as  he 
loves  his  life,  and  whose  heart  is  thrilled  with  the  majesty 
of  its  mission,  speak  to  you  now  of  the  dangers  that 


I1KNKV     \V.    GRADY, 

threaten  its  peace  ami  prosperity,  and  the  means  l>y  which 
they  may  be  honorably  averted. 

The  unmistakable  danger  thai  thivateiis  five  govi-i -n. 
m. -nt  in  America,  is  the  increasing  tendency  to  concentrate 
in  the  j'Yderal  government  powers  and  privile^.-s  that 
should  he  left  with  the  Slates,  and  to  create  powers  that 
neither  the  State  nor  Federal  government  should  have.  Let 
it  be  understood  at  once  that  in  di^cussin^  this  question  I 
se.-k  to  revive  no  dead  issue.  AVe  know  precisely  what  was 
put  to  the  issue  of  the  sword,  and  what  was  settled  thereby. 
The  right  of  a  State  to  leave  this  Union  was  denied  and  the 
denial  madegood  forever.  But  the  sovereignty  of  the  States 
in  the  Union  was  never  involved,  and  the  Republic  that  sur- 
vived the  storm  was,  in  the  words  of  the  Supreme  Court, 
"an  indissoluble  Union  of  indestructible  States."  Let  us 
stand  on  this  decree  and  turn  our  faces  to  the  future  ! 

It  is  not  strange  that  there  should  be  a  tendency  to 
centralization  in  our  government.  This  disposition  was  the 
legacy  of  the  war.  Steam  and  electricity  have  emphasized 
it  by  bringing  the  people  closer  together.  The  splendor  of 
a  central  government  dazzles  the  unthinking — its  opulence 
tempts  the  poor  and  the  avaricious — its  strength  assures  the 
rich  and  the  timid — its  patronage  incites  the  spoilsmen  and 
its  powers  inflame  the  partisan. 

And  so  we  have  paternalism  run  mad.  The  merchant 
asks  the  government  to  control  the  arteries  of  trade— the 
manufacturer  asks  that  his  product  be  protected— the  rich 
asks  for  an  army,  and  the  unfortunate  for  help — this  man 
for  schools  and  that  for  subsidy.  The  partisan  proclaims, 
amid  the  clamor,  that  the  source  of  largess  must  be  the  seat 
of  power,  and  demands  that  the  ballot-boxes  of  the  States 
be  hedged  by  Federal  bayonets.  The  centrifugal  force  of 
our  system  is  weakened,  the  centripetal  force  is  increased, 
and  the  revolving  spheres  are  veering  inward  from  their 
orbits.  There  are  strong  men  who  rejoice  in  this  unbalanc- 
ing and  deliberately  contend  that  the  center  is  the  true 
repository  of  power  and  source  of  privilege — men  who,  were 
they  charged  with  the  solar  system,  would  shred  t  lie  planets 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  147 

into  the  sun,  and,  exulting  in  the  sudden  splendor,  little 
reck  that  they  had  kindled  the  conflagration  that  presages 
universal  nights !  Thus  the  States  are  dwarfed  and  the 
nation  magnified — and  to  govern  w  people,  who  can  best 
govern  themselves,  the  central  authority  is  made  stronger 
and  more  splendid ! 

Concurrent  with  this  political  drift  is  another  move- 
ment, less  formal  perhaps,  but  not  less  dangerous — the  con- 
solidation of  capital.  I  hesitate  to  discuss  this  phase  of 
the  subject,  for  of  all  men  I  despise  most  cordially  the 
demagogue  who  panders  to  the  prejudice  of  the  poor  by 
abuse  of  the  rich.  But  no  man  can  note  the  encroachment 
in  this  country  of  what  may  be  called  "  the  money  power  " 
on  the  rights  of  the  individual,  without  feeling  that  the 
time  is  approaching  when  the  issue  between  plutocracy 
and  the  people  will  be  forced  to  trial.  The  world  has  not 
seen,  nor  has  the  mind  of  man  conceived  of  such  miracul- 
ous wealth-gathering  as  are  every-day  tales  to  us.  Alad- 
din's lamp  is  dimmed,  and  Monte  Cristo  becomes  common- 
place when  compared  to  our  magicians  of  finance  and 
trade.  The  seeds  of  a  luxury  that  even  now  surpasses  that 
of  Rome  or  Corinth,  and  has  only  yet  put  forth  its  first 
flowers,  are  sown  in  this  simple  republic.  What  shall  the 
full  fruitage  be  ?  '  I  do  not  denounce  the  newly  rich.  For 
most  part  their  money  came  under  forms  of  law.  The 
irresponsibilities  of  sudden  wealth  is  in  many  cases 
steadied  by  that  resolute  good  sense  which  seems  to  be  an 
American  heritage,  and  under-run  by  careless  prodigality  or 
by  constant  charity.  Our  great  wealth  has  brought  us  profit 
and  splendor.  But  the  status  itself  is  a  menace.  A  home 
that  costs  $3,000,000  and  a  breakfast  that  cost  $5000  are 
disquieting  facts  to  the  millions  who  live  in  a  hut  and  dine 
on  a  crust.  The  fact  that  a  man  ten  years  from  poverty 
has  an  income  of  $20,000,000 — and  his  two  associates  nearly 
as  much — from  the  control  and  arbitrary  pricing  of  an 
article  of  universal  use,  falls  strangely  on  the  ears  of  those 
who  hear  it,  as  they  sit  empty-handed,  while  children  cry 
for  bread.  The  tendency  deepens  the  dangers  suggested 


148  1IKNKV    \V.    (JKADY, 

by  the  status.  What  is  to  be  the  end  of  this  swift  piling 
ii])  of  \\ralth  ?  Twenty  years  ago  but  few  cities  had  their 
millionaires.  To-day  almost  every  town  lias  its  dozen. 
Twenty  men  can  he  named  who  can  each  buy  a  sovereign 
State  at  its  (ax-book  value.  The  youngest  nation,  Amer- 
ica, is  vastly  the  richest,  and  in  twenty  years,  in  spite  of 
war,  has  nearly  trebled  her  wealth.  Millions  are  made  on 
the  turn  of  a  trade,  and  the  toppling  mass  mows  and  grows, 
while  in  its  shadow  starvation  and  despair  stalk  among 
the  people,  and  swarm  with  increasing  legions  against  tin- 
citadels  of  human  life. 

But  the  abuse  of  this  amazing  power  of  consolidated 
wealth  is  its  bitterest  result  and  its  pressing  danger. 
When  the  agent  of  a  dozen  men,  who  have  captured  and 
control  an  article  of  prime  necessity,  meets  the  represent- 
atives of  a  million  farmers  from  whom  they  have  forced 
$3,000,000  the  year  before,  with  no  more  moral  right  than 
is  behind  the  highwayman  who  halts  the  traveler  at  his 
pistol's  point,  and  insolently  gives  them  the  measure  o{ 
this  year's  rapacity,  and  tells  them — men  who  live  in  th<> 
sweat  of  their  brows,  and  stand  between  God  and  Nature — 
that  they  must  submit  to  the  infamy  because  they  are  help 
less,  then  the  first  fruits  of  this  system  are  gathered  ano: 
have  turned  to  ashes  on  the  lips.  When  a  dozen  men  get 
together  in  the  morning  and  fix  the  price  of  a  dozen 
articles  of  common  use — with  no  standard  but  their  arbi- 
trary will,  and  no  limit  but  their  greed  or  daring — and 
then  notify  the  sovereign  people  of  this  free  Republic  how 
much,  in  the  mercy  of  their  masters,  they  shall  pay  for  the 
necessaries  of  life — then  the  point  of  intolerable  shame  has 
"been  reached. 

\Ve  have  read  of  the  robber  barons  of  the  Rhine  who 
from  their  castles  sent  a  shot  across  the  bow  of  every  pass- 
ing craft,  and  descending  as  hawks  from  the  crags,  tore 
and  robbed  and  plundered  the  voyagers  imtil  their  greed 
was  glutted,  or  the  strength  of  their  victims  spent.  Shall 
this  shame  of  Europe  against  which  the  world  revolted, 
shall  it  be  repeated  in  this  free  country  ?  And  yet,  when  a 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  149 

syndicate  or  a  trust  can  arbitrarily  add  twenty-five  per 
cent,  to  the  cost  of  a  single  article  of  common  use,  and 
safely  gather  forced  tribute  from  the  people,  until  from  its 
surplus  it  could  buy  every  castle  on  the  Rhine,  or  requite 
every  baron's  debauchery  from  its  kitchen  account — where 
is  the  difference — save  that  the  castle  is  changed  to  a 
broker's  office,  and  the  picturesque  river  to  the  teeming 
streets  and  the  broad  fields  of  this  government  "of  the 
people,  by  the  people,  and  for  the  people"?  I  do  not 
overstate  the  case.  Economists  have  held  that  wheat, 
grown  everywhere,  could  never  be  cornered  by  capita). 
And  yet  one  man  in  Chicago  tied  the  wheat  crop  in  his 
handkerchief,  and  held  it  until  a  sewing- woman  in  my  city, 
working  for  ninety  cents  a  week,  had  to  pay  him  twenty 
cents  tax  on  the  sack  of  flour  she  bore  home  in  her  famished 
hands.  Three  men  held  the  cotton  crop  until  the  English 
spindles  were  stopped  and  the  lights  went  out  in  3,000,000 
English  homes.  Last  summer  one  man  cornered  pork  until 
he  had  levied  a  tax  of  $3  per  barrel  on  every  consumer, 
and  pocketed  a  profit  of  millions.  The  Cza"r  of  Russia 
would  not  have  dared  to  do  these  things.  And  yet  they 
are  no  secrets  in  this  free  government  of  ours  !  They  are 
known  of  all  men,  and,  my  countrymen,  no  argument  can 
follow'  them,  and  no  plea  excuse  them,  when  they  fall  on 
the  men  who  toiling,  yet  suffer — who  hunger  at  their  work — 
and  who  cannot  find  food  for  their  wives  with  which  to 
feed  the  infants  that  hang  famishing  at  their  breasts.  Mr. 
Jefferson  foresaw  this  danger  and  he  sought  to  avert  it. 
When  Virginia  ceded  the  vast  Northwest  to  the  govern- 
ment— before  the  Constitution  was  written— Mr.  Jefferson 
in  the  second  clause  of  the  articles  of  cession  prohibited 
forever  the  right  of  primogeniture.  Virginia  then  nobly 
said,  and  Georgia  in  the  cession  of  her  territory  repeated  : 
"  In  granting  this  domain  to  the  government  and  dedicat- 
ing it  to  freedom,  \ve  prescribe  that  there  shall  be  no  classes 
in  the  family — no  child  set  up  at  the  expense  of  the  others, 
no  feudal  estates  established — but  what  a  man  hath  shall 
be  divided  equally  among  his  children'." 


HKNKY    W.    (HIADY, 

\\V  866  this  feudal  tendency,  swept  ;i\v;iy  by  Mr.  Jeffer- 
son,  revived  by  the  conditions  (.('  our  time,  aided  ),y  the 
government  with  its  grunt  of  enormous  powers  and  its 
ama/ing  class  legislation.  It  has  given  the  corporation 
more  power  than  Mr.  Jefferson  stripped  from  the  indi- 
vidual, and  has  set  up  a  creature  without  soul  or  con- 
science or  limit  of  human  life  to  establish  an  oligarchy, 
unrelieved  by  human  charity  and  unsteadied  by  human 
responsibility.  The  syndicate,  the  trust,  the  corporation — 
these  are  the  eldest  sons  of  the  Republic  for  whom  the 
1'endal  right  of  primogeniture  is  revived,  and  who  inherit 
its  estate  to  the  impoverishment  of  their  brothers.  Let  it 
be  noted  that  the  alliance  between  those  who  would  cen- 
tralize the  government  and  the  consolidated  money  power 
is  not  only  close  but  essential.  The  one  is  the  necessity  of 
the  other.  Establish  the  money  power  and  there  is  uni- 
versal clamor  for  strong  government.  The  weak  will 
demand  it  for  protection  against  the  people  restless  under 
oppression — the  patriotic  for  protection  against  the  plu- 
tocracy that  scourges  and  robs — the  corrupt  hoping  to 
buy  of  one  central  body  distant  Sromffocal  influences  what 
they  could  not  buy  from  the  legislatures  of  the  States 
sitting  at  their  homes — the  oligarchs  will  demand  it — as 
the  privileged  few  have  always  demanded  it — for  the  pro- 
tection of  their  privileges  and  the  perpetuity  of  their 
bounty.  Thus,  hand  in  hand,  will  walk — as  they  have 
always  walked — the  federalist  and  the  capitalist,  the  cen- 
tralist and  the  monopolist— the  strong  government  pro- 
tecting the  money  power,  and  the  money  power  the 
political  standing  army  of  the  government.  Hand  in  hand, 
compact  and  organized,  one  creating  the  necessity,  the 
other  meeting  it ;  consolidated  wealth  and  centralizing 
government;  stripping  the  many  of  their  rights  and 
aggrandizing  the  few  ;  distrusting  the  people  but  in  touch 
with  the  plutocrats  ;  striking  down  local  self-government 
and  dwarfing  the  citizens — and  at  last  confronting  the  peo- 
ple in  the  market,  in  the  courts,  at  the  ballot  box — every- 
where— with  the  infamous  challenge :  "  What  are  you  going 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  151 

to  do  about  it  ?  "  And  so  the  government  protects  and  the 
barons  oppress,  and  the  people  suiter  and  grow  strong. 
And  when  the  battle  for  liberty  is  joined — the  centralist 
and  the  plutocrat,  entrenched  behind  the  deepening  pow- 
ers of  the  government,  and  the  countless  ramparts  of 
money  bags,  oppose  to  the  vague  but  earnest  onset  of  I  In; 
people  the  power  of  the  trained  phalanx  and  the  con- 
scienceless strength  of  the  mercenary. 

Against  this  tendency  who  shall  protest?  Those  "who 
believe  that  a  central  government  means  a  strong  govern- 
ment, and  a  strong  government  means  repression — those 
who  believe  that  this  vast  Republic,  with  its  diverse  inter- 
ests and  its  local  needs,  can  better  be  governed  by  liberty 
and  enlightenment  diffused  among  the  people  than  by 
powers  and  privileges  congested  at  the  center — those  who 
believe  that  the  States  should  do  nothing  that  the  people 
can  do  themselves  and  the  government  nothing  that  the 
States  and  the  people  can  do — those  who  believe  that  the 
wealth  of  the  central  government  is  a  crime  rather  than  a 
virtue,  and  that  every  dollar  not  needed  for  its  economical 
administration  should  be  left  with  the  people  of  the 
States — those  who  believe  that  the  hearthstone  of  the  home 
is  the  true  altar  of  liberty  and  the  enlightened  conscience 
of  the  citizen  the  best  guarantee  of  government !  Those  of 
you  who  note  the  farmer  sending  his  sons  to  the  city  that 
they  may  escape  the  unequal  burdens  under  which  he 
has  labored,  thus  diminishing  the  rural  population  whose 
leisure,  integrity  and  deliberation  have  corrected  the  pas- 
sion and  impulse  and  corruption  of  the  cities — who  note 
that  while  the  rich  are  growing  richer,  and  the  poor  poorer, 
we  are  lessening  that  great  middle  class  that,  ever  since  it 
met  the  returning  crusaders  in  England  with  the  demand 
that  the  hut  of  the  humble  should  be  as  sacred  as  the  castle 
of  the  great,  has  been  the  bulwark  and  glory  of  every 
English-speaking  community — who  know  that  this  Re- 
public, which  we  shall  live  to  see  with  150,000,000  people, 
stretching  from  ocean  to  ocean,  and  almost  from  the  arctic 
to  the  torrid  zone,  cannot  be  governed  by  any  laws  that  a 


152  III:NI:V    \\  . 


central  despotism  could  d'-vKe  ..I-  controlled  by  any  armies 
it  could  marshal  you  who  know  these  things  prote>t  with 
all  the  earnestness  of  your  souls  a  irai  n>  t  tin-  policy  and  the 
methods  that  make  tin-in  possible. 

What  is  the  remedy?  To  exalt  the  hearthstone  —  to 
strengthen  the  home  —  to  build  up  the  individual  —  to  mag- 
nify and  defend  the  principle  of  local  self-government. 
Not  in  deprecation  of  the  Federal  government,  but  to  its 
glory  —  not  to  weaken  the  Republic,  but  to  strengthen  it  — 
not  to  check  the  rich  blood  that  flows  to  its  heart,  but 
to  send  it  full  and  wholesome  from  healthy  members 
rather  than  from  withered  and  diseased  extremities. 

The  man  who  kindles  the  fire  on  the  hearthstone  of  an 
honest  and  righteous  home  burns  the  best  incense  to  liberty. 
II'-  does  not  love  mankind  less  who  loves  his  neighbor  most. 
George  Eliot  has  said  : 

"A  human  life  should  be  well  rooted  in  some  spot  of  a  native  laud  where  it 
may  get  the  love  of  tender  kinship  for  the  face  of  the  earth,  for  the  sounds  and 
accents  tli.it  haunt  it,  a  spot  where  the  definiteness  of  early  memories  may  be 
inwrought  with  affection,  and  spread,  not  by  sentimental  effort  and  reflection, 
but  as  a  sweet  habit  of  the  blest." 

The  germ  of  the  best  patriotism  is  in  the  love  that  a  man 
has  for  the  home  he  inhabits,  for  the  soil  he  tills,  for  the  trees 
that  gives  him  shade,  and  the  hills  that  stand  in  his  path- 
way. I  teach  my  son  to  love  Georgia  —  to  love  the  soil  that 
he  stands  on  —  the  body  of  my  old  mother  —  the  mountains 
that  are  her  springing  breasts,  the  broad  acres  that  hold 
her  substance,  the  dimpling  valleys  in  which  her  beauty 
rests,  the  forests  that  sing  her  songs  of  lullaby  and  of  praise, 
and  the  brooks  that  run  with  her  rippling  laughter.  The 
love  of  home  —  deep  rooted  and  abiding  —  that  blurs  the 
eyes  of  the  dying  soldier  with  the  vision  of  an  old  home- 
stead amid  green  fields  and  clustering  trees  —  that  follows 
the  busy  man  through  the  clamoring  world,  persistent 
though  put  aside,  and  at  last  draws  his  tired  feet  from  the 
highway  and  leads  him  through  shady  Janes  and  well- 
remembered  paths  until,  amid  the  scenes  of  his  boyhood, 
he  gathers  up  the  broken  threads  of  his  life  and  owns  the 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  153 

soil  his  conqueror — this — this  lodged  in  the  heart  of  the 
citizen  is  the  saving  principle  of  our  government.  We  note 
the  barracks  of  our  standing  army  with  its  rolling  drum 
and  its  fluttering  ilag  as  points  of  strength  and  protection. 
But  the  citizen  standing  in  the  doorway  of  his  home — con- 
tented on  his  threshold — his  family  gathered  about  his 
hearthstone — while  the  evening  of  a  well-spent  day  <•!<•>. -s 
in  scenes  and  sounds  that  are  dearest — he  shall  save  the 
Republic  when  the  drum  tap  is  futile  and  the  barracks  are 
exhausted. 

This  love  shall  not  be  pent  up  or  provincial.  The  home 
should  be  consecrated  to  humanity,  and  from  its  roof-tree 
should  fly  the  flag  of  the  Republic.  Every  simple  fruit 
gathered  there — every  sacrifice  endured,  and  every  victory 
won,  should  bring  better  joy  and  inspiration  in  the  knowl- 
edge that  it  will  deepen  the  glory  of  our  Republic  and 
widen  the  harvest  of  humanity  !  Be  not  like  the  peasant 
of  France  who  hates  the  Paris  he  cannot  comprehend — but 
emulate  the  example  of  your  fathers  in  the  South,  who, 
holding  to  the  sovereignty  of  the  States,  yet  gave  to  the 
Republic  its  chief  glory  of  statesmanship,  and  under  Jack- 
son at  New  Orleans,  and  Taylor  and  Scott  in  Mexico,  saved 
it  twice  from  the  storm  of  war.  Inherit  without  fear  or 
shame  the  principle  of  local  self-government  by  which  your 
fathers  stood  !  For  though  entangled  with  an  institution 
foreign  to  this  soil,  which,  thank  God,  not  planted  by  their 
hands,  is  now  swept  away,  and  with  a  theory  bravely 
defended  but  now  happily  adjusted — that  principle  holds 
the  imperishable  truth  that  shall  yet  save  this  Republic. 
The  integrity  of  the  State,  its  rights  and  its  powers — tln-sc, 
maintained  with  firmness,  but  in  loyalty — these  shall  yet, 
by  lodging  the  option  of  local  affairs  in  each  locality,  meet 
the  needs  of  this  vast  and  complex  government,  and  check 
the  headlong  rush  to  that  despotism  that  reason  could  not 
defend,  nor  the  armies  of  the  Czar  maintain,  among  a  free 
and  enlightened  people.  This  issue  is  squarely  made  !  It 
is  centralized  government  and  the  money  power  on  the 
one  hand — against  the  integrity  of  the  States  and  rights  of 


l.'l  ^IK.NKV     W.    ORADT, 

the  people  on  th«'  other.  At  all  ha/aid,  stand  with  the 
people  ;iii<l  the  t hreatened  States.  The  choice  may  not  be 
easily  made.  \Yi>e  men  may  hesitate  and  patriotic  men 
divide.  The  culture,  the  strength,  the  might  ine>s  of  1  he 
rich  and  strong  government — these  will  tempt  and  dazzle. 
But  be  not  misled.  Beneath  this  splendor  is  the  canker 
of  a  disturbed  and  oppressed  people.  It  \\as  from  the 
golden  age  of  AagUStUS  thai  the  Roman  empire  staggered 
to  its  fall.  Tlie  integrity  of  the  Stale>  and  the  rights  of 
the  people!  Stand  there — there  is  .safety — there  is  the 
broad  and  enduring  brotherhood — there,  less  of  glory,  but 
more  of  honor!  Put  patriotism  above  partisanship — and 
wherever  the  principle  that  protects  the  States  against  the 
centralists,  and  the  people  against  the  plutocrats,  may  lead. 
follow  without  fear  or  faltering — for  there  the  way  of  duty 
and  of  wisdom  lies ! 

Exalt  the  citizen.  As  the  State  is  the  unit  of  govern- 
ment he  is  the  unit  of  the  State.  Teach  him  that  his  home 
is  his  castle,  and  his  sovereignty  rests  beneath  his  hat. 
Make  himself  self-respecting,  self-reliant  and  responsible. 
Let  him  lean  on  the  State  for  nothing  that  his  own  arm 
can  do,  and  on  the  government  for  nothing  that  his  State 
can  do.  Let  him  cultivate  independence  to  the  point  of 
sacrifice,  and  learn  that  humble  things  with  unbartered  lib- 
erty are  better  than  splendors  bought  with  its  price.  Let 
him  neither  surrender  his  individuality  to  government,  nor 
merge,  it  with  the  mob.  Let  him  stand  upright  and  fear- 
less— a  freeman  born  of  freemen — sturdy  in  his  own 
strength — dowering  his  family  in  the  sweat  of  his  brow- 
loving  to  his  State — loyal  to  his  Republic — earnest  in  his 
allegiance  wherever  it  rests,  but  building  his  altar  in  the 
midst  of  his  household  gods  and  shrining  in  his  own  heart 
the  uttermost  temple  of  its  liberty. 

Go  out,  determined  to  magnify  the  community  in  which 
your  lot  is  cast.  Cultivate  its  small  economies.  Stand  by 
its  young  industries.  Commercial  dependence  is  a  chain 
that  galls  every  day.  A  factory  built  at  home,  a  book 
published,  a  shoe  or  a  book  made,  these  are  steps  in  that 


HIS    LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND    SPEECHKS.  155 

diffusion  of  thought  and  interest  that  is  needed.  Teach 
your  neighbors  to  withdraw  from  the  vassalage  of  distant 
capitalists,  and  pay,  under  any  sacrifice,  the  mortgage  on 
the  home  or  the  land.  By  simple  and  prudent  lives  stay 
within  your  own  resources,  and  establish  the  freedom  of 
your  community.  Make  every  village  and  cross-roads  as 
far  as  may  be  sovereign  to  its  own  wants.  Learn  that 
thriving  country-sides  with  room  for  limbs,  conscience,  and 
liberty  are  better  than  great  cities  with  congested  wealth 
and  population.  Preserve  the  straight  and  simple  homo- 
geneity of  our  people.  Welcome  emigrants,  but  see  that 
they  come  as  friends  and  neighbors,  to  mingle  their  blood 
with  ours,  to  build  their  houses  in  our  fields,  and  to  plant 
their  Christian  faith  on  our  hills,  and  honoring  our  consti- 
tution and  reverencing  our  God,  to  confirm  the  simple 
beliefs  in  which  we  have  been  reared,  and  which  we  should 
transmit  unsullied  to  our  children.  Stand  by  these  old- 
fashioned  beliefs.  Science  hath  revealed  no  better  faith 
than  that  you  learned  at  your  mother's  knee — nor  has 
knowledge  made  a  wiser  and  a  better  book  than  the  worn 
old  Bible  that,  thumbed  by  hands  long  since  still,  and 
blurred  with  the  tears  of  eyes  long  since  closed,  held  the 
simple  annals  of  your  family  and  the  heart  and  conscience 
of  your  homes. 

Honor  and  emulate  the  virtues  and  the  faith  of  your 
forefathers — who,  learned,  were  never  wise  above  a  knowl- 
edge of  God  and  His  gospel — who,  great,  were  never 
exalted  above  an  humble  trust  in  God  and  His  mercy  ! 

Let  me  sum  up  what  I  have  sought  to  say  in  this 
hurried  address.  Your  Republic — on  the  glory  of  which 
depends  all  that  men  hold  dear — is  menaced  with  great 
dangers.  Against  these  dangers  defend  her,  as  you  would 
defend  the  most  precious  concerns  of  your  own  life. 
Against  the  dangers  of  centralizing  all  political  powers, 
put  the  approved  and  imperishable  principle  of  local  self- 
government.  Between  the  rich  and  the  poor  now  drifting 
into  separate  camps,  build  up  the  great  middle  class  that, 
neither  drunk  with  wealth,  nor  embittered  by  poverty, 


in  \i:v    w. 

sliall  lift  iiji  lli»-  siifl'frin.ir  and  control  flu-  strong.  To  the 
jaimlinir  <>f  nu-cs  and  creeds  lliat  I  hreaten  tin-  ronrN  of 
men  ami  tli*'  temples  of  <md,  oppose  tin-  home  ;nid  the  Ht- 
i/eji  ;i  homogeneous  and  honest  people  and  1  he  simple 
faith  that  sustained  your  fathersand  mothers  in  their  stain- 
Leaa  lives  and  led  them  serene  and  smiling  into  the  valley 
of  the  shadow. 

Let  it  be  understood  in  my  parting  \\ords  to  you  that  I 
am  no  pessimist  as  to  this  LVpublir.  1  always  b«-t  on  sun- 
shine in  America.  I  know  that  my  country  has  reached 
the  point  of  perilous  greatness,  and  that  strange  forces  not 
to  be  measured  or  comprehended  are  hurryini:  her  to 
heiglits  that  da//,le  and  blind  all  mortal  eyes  but  1  know 
that  beyond  the  uttermost  glory  is  enthroned  the  Lord 
God  Almi.irhty,  and  that  when  the  hour  of  her  trial  has 
come  He  will  lift  up  His  everlasting  gates  and  bend  down 
above  her  in  mercy  and  in  love.  For  with  her  He  has 
surely  lodged  the  ark  of  His  covenant  with  the  sons  of  men. 
Emerson  wisely  said,  "Our  whole  history  looks  like  the 
last  effort  by  Divine  Providence  in  behalf  of  the  human 
race."  And  the  Republic  will  endure.  Centralism  will  be 
checked,  and  liberty  saved — plutocracy  overthrown  and 
equality  restored.  The  struggle  for  human  rights  never 
goes  backward  among  English-speaking  peoples.  Our 
brothers  across  the  sea  have  fought  from  despotism  to  lib- 
erf  y.  and  in  the  wisdom  of  local  self-government  have 
planted  colonies  around  the  world.  This  very  day  Mr. 
(Gladstone,  the  wisest  man  that  has  lived  since  your  Jeffer- 
son died — with  the  light  of  another  world  beating  in  his 
face  until  he  seems  to  have  caught  the  wisdom  of  the  Infin- 
ite and  towers  half  human  and  half  divine  from  his  emi- 
nence— this  man,  turning  away  from  the  traditions  of  his 
life,  begs  his  countrymen  to  strip  the  crown  of  its  last 
usurped  authority,  and  lodge  it  with  the  people,  where  it 
belongs.  The  trend  of  the  times  is  with  us.  The  world 
moves  steadily  from  gloom  to  brightness.  And  bending 
down  humbly  as  Elisha  did,  and  praying  that  my  eyes  shall 
be  made  to  see,  I  catch  the  vision  of  this  Republic — its 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND    SPEECHES.  157 

mighty  forces  in  balance,  and  its  unspeakable  glory  falling 
on  all  its  children — chief  among  the  federation  of  English- 
speaking  people — plenty  streaming  from  its  borders,  and 
light  from  its  mountain  tops — working  out  its  mission 
under  God's  approving  eye,  until  the  dark  continents  are 
opened — and  the  highways  of  earth  established,  and  the 
shadows  lifted — and  the  jargon  of  the  nations  stilled  and 
the  perplexities  of  Babel  straightened — and  under  one 
lanminu'o,  one  liberty,  and  one  God,  all  the  nations  of  the 
world  hearkening  to  the  American  drum-beat  and  girding 
up  their  loins,  shall  march  amid  the  breaking  of  the 
millennial  dawn  into  the  paths  of  righteousness  and  of 
peace ! 


158  IIKNUY   \\ .  <.K.u>V, 


THE  FARMER  AND  THE  CITIES. 


M 


R.  GRADY'S  SPEECH  AT   ELBERTON,  GEORGIA.   IN 
JUNE,  1889. 


MR.  PRESIDENT,  LADIES  AND  GENTLEMEN  : — For  the 
first  time  in  my  life  I  address  an  audience  in  the  open  air. 
And  as  I  stand  here  in  this  beautiful  morning,  so  shot 
through  and  through  with  sunshine  that  the  very  air  is  as 
molten  gold  to  the  touch — under  these  trees  in  whose 
trunks  the  rains  and  suns  of  years  are  compacted,  and  on 
whose  leaves  God  has  laid  His  whispering  music — here 
in  His  majestic  temple,  with  the  brightness  of  His  smile 
breaking  all  about  us — standing  above  the  soil  instinct 
with  the  touch  of  His  life-giving  hand,  and  full  of  His 
promise  and  His  miracle — and  looking  up  to  the  clouds 
through  which  His  thunders  roll,  and  His  lightnings  cut 
their  way,  and  beyond  that  to  the  dazzling  glory  of  the 
sun,  and  yet  beyond  to  the  unspeakable  splendor  of  the 
universe,  flashing  and  paling  until  the  separate  stars  are 
but  as  mist  in  the  skies — even  to  the  uplifted  jasper  gates 
through  which  His  everlasting  glory  streams,  my  mind 
falls  back  abashed,  and  I  realize  how  paltry  is  human 
speech,  and  how  idle  are  the  thoughts  of  men ! 

Another  thought  oppresses  me.  In  front  of  me  sit  sev- 
eral thousand  people.  Over  there,  in  smelling  distance, 
whnv  we  can  almost  hear  the  lisping  of  the  mop  as  it 
caresses  the  barbecued  lamb  or  the  pottering  of  the  skew- 
ered pig  as  he  leisurely  turns  from  fat  to  crackling, 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND    SPEECHES.  159 

is  being  prepared  a  dinner  that  I  verily  believe  covers 
more  provisions  than  were  issued  to  all  the  soldiers  of 
Lee's  army,  God  bless  them,  in  their  last  campaign.  And 
I  shudder  when  I  think  that  I,  a  single,  unarmed,  defense- 
less man,  is  all  that  stands  between  this  crowd  and  that 
dinner.  Here  then,  awed  by  God's  majesty,  and  menaced 
by  man's  appetite,  I  am  tempted  to  leave  this  platform 
and  yield  to  the  boyish  impulses  that  always  stir  in  my 
heart  amid  such  scenes,  and  revert  to  the  days  of  boyhood 
when  about  the  hills  of  Athens  I  chased  the  pacing  coon, 
or  twisted  the  unwary  rabbit,  or  shot  my  ramrod  at  aU 
manner  of  birds  and  beasts — and  at  night  went  home  to 
look  up  into  a  pair  of  gentle  eyes  and  take  on  my  tired 
face  the  benediction  of  a  mother's  kiss  and  feel  on  my 
weary  head  a  pair  of  loving  hands,  now  wrinkled  and 
trembling,  but,  blessed  be  God,  fairer  to  me  yet  than  the 
hands  of  mortal  women,  and  stronger  yet  to  lead  me  than 
the  hands  of  mortal  man,  as  they  laid  a  mother's  blessing 
there,  while  bending  at  her  knees  I  made  my  best  confes- 
sion of  faith  and  worshiped  at  the  truest  altar  I  have  yet 
found  in  this  world.  I  had  rather  go  out  and  lay  down  on 
the  ground  and  hug  the  grass  to  my  breast  and  mind  me  of 
the  time  when  I  builded  boyish  ambitions  on  the  wooded 
hills  of  Athens,  than  do  aught  else  to-day.  But  I  recall  the 
story  of  Uncle  Remus,  who  when  his  favorite  hero,  Brer 
Rabbit,  was  sorely  pressed  by  that  arch  villain,  Brer  Fox, 
said  : 

"An'  Brer  Rabbit  den  he  climb'd  a  tree."  "  But,"  said 
the  little  boy,  "  Uncle  Remus,  a  rabbit  can't  climb  a  tree." 

"  Doan  you  min'  dat,  honey.  Brer  Fox  pressed  dis 
rabbit  so  hard  he  des  bleeged  to  clim'  a  tree." 

I  am  pressed  so  hard  to-day  by  your  commands  that  I 
am  just  "  bleeged  "  to  make  a  speech,  and  so  I  proceed.  I 
ln'iirtily  invoke  God's  guidance  in  what  I  say,  that  I  shall 
utter  no  word  to  soil  this  temple  of  His,  and  no  senti- 
ment not  approved  in  His  wisdom  ;  and  as  for  you,  when 
the  time  comes — as  it  will  come — when  you  prefer  barbe- 
cued shote  to  raw  orator,  and  feel  that  you  can  be  happier 


Kill  II KXKY    W.    GRADY, 

at  that  table  than  in  this  forum,  just  say  the  word  and  I 
will  be  with  you  heart  and  soul  ! 

I  a  in  tempted  to  yield  to  the  gaiety  of  this  scene,  to  the 
Haunting  banners  of  the  trees,  the  downpouring  sunshine, 
the  garm-ivd  plenty  over  there,  this  smiling  and  hospitable 
crowd,  and,  tin-owing  serious  affairs  aside,  to  speak  to  you 
Jo-day  as  the  bird  sings — without  care  and  without  thought. 
1  should  be  false  to  myself  and  to  you  if  I  did,  for  there 
are  serious  problems  that  beset  our  State  and  our  country 
that  no  man,  facing,  as  I  do  this  morning,  a  great  and  in- 
telligent, audience,  can  in  honor  or  in  courage  disregard. 
]  shall  attempt  to  make  no  brilliant  speech — but  to  counsel 
with  you  in  plain  and  simple  words,  beseeching  your 
attention  and  your  sympathy  as  to  the  dangers  of  the 
present  hour,  and  our  duties  and  our  responsibilities. 

At  Saturday  noon  in  any  part  of  this  county  you  may 
note  the  farmer  going  from  his  field,  eating  his  dinner 
thoughtfully  and  then  saddling  his  plow-horse,  or  starting 
afoot  and  making  his  way  to  a  neighboring  church  or  school- 
house.  There  he  finds  from  every  farm,  through  every 
foot-path,  his  neighbors  gathering  to  meet  him.  What  is 
the  object  of  this  meeting  ?  It  is  not  social,  it  is  not  frolic, 
it  is  not  a  picnic — the  earnest,  thoughtful  faces,  the  serious 
debate  and  council,  the  closed  doors  and  the  secret  session 
forbid  this  assumption.  It  is  a  meeting  of  men  who  feel 
that  in  spite  of  themselves  their  affairs  are  going  wrong— 
of  free  and  equal  citizens  who  feel  that  they  carry  unequal 
burdens — of  toilers  who  feel  that  they  reap  not  the  just 
fruits  of  their  toil — of  men  who  feel  that  their  labor  en- 
riches others  while  it  leaves  them  poor,  and  that  the  sweat 
of  their  bodies,  shed  freely  under  God's  command,  goes  to 
clothe  the  idle  and  the  avaricious  in  purple  and  fine  linen. 
This  is  a  meeting  of  protest,  of  resistance.  Here  the  farmer 
meets  to  demand,  and  organize  that  he  may  enforce 
his  demand,  that  he  shall  stand  equal  with  every  other 
class  of  citizens— that  laws  discriminating  against  him 
shall  be  repealed — that  the  methods  oppressing  him  shall 
be  modified  or  abolished— and  that  he  shall  be  guar- 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND    SPEECHES.  161 

anteed  that  neither  government  nor  society  shall  abridge, 
by  statute  or  custom,  his  just  and  honest  proportion  of  the 
wealth  he  created,  but  that  lie  shall  be  permitted  to  garner 
in  his  barns,  and  enjoy  by  his  hearthstone,  the  full  and 
fair  fruits  of  his  labor.  If  this  movement  were  confined  to 
Elbert,  if  this  disturbing  feeling  of  discontent  were  shut 
in  the  limits  of  your  county  lines,  it  would  still  demand 
the  attention  of  the  thoughtful  and  patriotic.  But,  as  it 
is  in  Elbert,  so  it  is  in  every  county  in  Georgia — as  in 
Georgia,  so  it  is  in  every  State  in  the  South — as  in  the 
South,  so  in  every  agricultural  State  in  the  Union.  In 
every  rural  neighborhood,  from  Ohio  to  Texas,  from  Mich- 
igan to  Georgia,  the  farmers,  riding  thoughtful  through 
field  and  meadow,  seek  ten  thousand  schoolhouses  or 
churches — the  muster  grounds  of  this  new  army — and  there, 
recounting  their  wrongs  and  renewing  their  pledges,  send 
up  from  neighborhoods  to  county,  from  county  to  State, 
and  State  to  Republic,  the  measure  of  their  strength  and 
the  unyielding  quality  of  their  determination.  The  agri- 
cultural army  of  the  Republic  is  in  motion.  The  rallying 
drumbeat  has  rolled  over  field  and  meadow,  and  from  where 
the  wheat  locks  the  sunshine  in  its  bearded  sheaf,  and  the 
clover  carpets  the  earth,  and  the  cotton  whitens  beneath 
the  stars,  and  the  tobacco  catches  the  quick  aroma  of  the 
rains — everywhere  that  patient  man  stands  above  the  soil, 
or  bends  about  the  furrow,  the  farmers  are  ready  in  squads 
and  companies  and  battalions  and  legions  to  be  led  against 
what  they  hold  to  be  an  oppression  that  honest  men  would 
not  deserve,  and  that  brave  men  would  not  emdure.  Let 
us  not  fail  to  comprehend  the  magnitude  and  the  meaning 
of  this  movement.  It  is  no  trifling  cause  that  brings  the 
farmers  into  such  determined  and  widespread  organiza- 
tion as  this.  It  is  not  the  skillful  arts  of  the  demagogue 
that  has  brought  nearly  two  million  farmers  into  this 
perfect  and  pledge-bound  society — but  it  is  a  deep  and 
abiding  conviction  that,  in  political  and  commercial  econ- 
omy of  the  day,  he  is  put  at  a  disadvantage  that  keeps  him 
poor  while  other  classes  grow  rich,  and  that  bars  his  way 


102  II  i:\KY    W.    (iUADY, 

to  prosperity  and  independence.  General  Toombs  once 
s;iid  that  the  farmer,  considered  the  most  conservative  type 
of  citizenship,  is  really  the  most  revolutionary.  That  the 
fanners  of  France,  flocking  to  the  towns  and  cities  from 
the  unequal  burdens  of  their  farms,  brought  about  the 
French  Revolution,  and  that  about  once  in  every  century 
the  French  peasant  raided  the  towns.  Three  times  the 
fanners  of  England  have  captured  and  held  London.  It 
was  the  farmers  of  Mecklenburg  that  made  the  first  Amer- 
ican declaration,  and  Putnam  left  his  plow  standing  in  the 
furrow  as  he  hurried  to  lead  the  embattled  fanners  who 
fought  at  Concord  and  Lexington.  I  realize  it  is  impossi- 
ble that  revolution  should  be  the  outcome  of  our  industrial 
troubles.  The  farmer  of  to-day  does  not  consider  that 
remedy  for  his  wrongs.  I  quote  history  to  show  that  the 
fanner,  segregated  and  deliberate,  does  not  move  on  slight 
provocation,  but  organizes  only  under  deep  conviction,  and 
that  when  once  organized  and  convinced,  he  is  terribly  in 
earnest,  and  is  not  going  to  rest  until  his  wrongs  are 
righted. 

Now,  here  we  are  confronted  with  the  most  thorough 
and  widespread  agricultural  movement  of  this  or  any  other 
day.  It  is  the  duty  alike  of  farmers  and  those  who  stand 
in  other  ranks,  to  get  together  and  consult  as  to  what  is 
the  real  status  and  what  is  the  patriotic  duty.  Not  in 
sullenness,  but  in  frankness.  Not  as  opponents,  but  as 
friends — not  as  enemies,  but  as  brothers  begotten  of  a 
common  mother,  banded  in  common  allegiance,  and  march- 
ing to  a  common  destiny.  It  will  not  do  to  say  that  this 
organization  will  pass  away,  for  if  the  discontent  on  which 
it  is  based  survives  it,  it  had  better  have  lived  and  forced 
its  wrongs  to  final  issue.  There  is  no  room  for  divided 
hearts  in  this  State,  or  in  this  Republic.  If  we  shall 
restore  Georgia  to  her  former  greatness  and  prosperity— 
if  we  shall  solve  the  problems  that  beset  the  South  in  honor 
and  safety — if  we  shall  save  this  Republic  from  the  dan- 
gers that  threaten  it — it  will  require  the  earnest  and  united 
effort  of  every  patriotic  citizen,  be  he  farmer,  or  merchant, 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND    SPEECHES.  163 

or  lawyer,  or  manufacturer.  Let  us  consider  then  the  situ- 
ation, and  decide  what  is  the  duty  that  lies  before  us. 

In  discussing  this  matter  briefly,  I  beg  the  ladies  to  give 
me  their  attention.  I  have  always  believed  that  there  are 
few  affairs  of  life  in  which  woman  should  not  have  a  part. 
Not  obtrusive  part — for  that  is  unwomanly.  The  work 
falling  best  to  the  hand  of  woman  is  such  work  as  is  done 
by  the  dews  of  night — that  ride  not  on  the  boasting  wind, 
and  shine  not  in  the  garish  sun,  but  that  come  when  the 
wind  is  stilled  and  the  sun  is  gone,  and  night  has  wrapped 
the  earth  in  its  sacred  hush,  and  fall  from  the  distillery  of 
the  stars  upon  the  parched  and  waiting  flowers,  as  a  bene- 
diction from  God. 

Let  no  one  doubt  the  power  of  this  work,  though  it  lack 
pomp  and  circumstance.  Is  Bismarck  the  mightiest  power 
of  this  earth,  who  is  attended  by  martial  strains  when  he 
walks  abroad,  and  in  whose  path  thrones  are  scattered  as 
trophies  ?  Why,  the  little  housewife  alone  in  her  chimney- 
corner,  musing  in  her  happiness  with  no  trophy  in  her 
path  save  her  husband's  loving  heart,  and  no  music  on 
her  ear  save  the  chirping  of  the  cricket  beneath  her  hearth- 
stone, is  his  superior.  For,  while  he  holds  the  purse- 
strings  of  Germany,  she  holds  the  heartstrings  of  men. 
She  who  rocks  the  cradle  rules  the  world.  Give  me  then 
your  attention,  note  the  conflict  that  is  gathering  about 
us,  and  take  your  place  with  seeming  modesty  in  the  ranks 
of  those  who  fight  for  right.  It  is  not  an  abstract  politi- 
cal theory  that  is  involved  in  the  contest  of  which  I  speak. 
It  is  the  integrity  and  independence  of  your  home  that  is 
at  stake.  The  battle  is  not  pitched  in  a  distant  State. 
Your  home  is  the -battle-field,  and  by  your  hearthstones 
you  shall  fight  for  your  household  gods.  With  your  hus- 
band's arms  so  wound  around  you  that  you  can  feel  his 
anxious  heart  beating  against  your  cheek — with  your  sons, 
sturdy  and  loving,  holding  your  old  hands  in  theirs — here 
on  the  threshold  of  your  house,  under  the  trees  that  shel- 
tered your  babyhood,  with  the  graves  of  your  dead  in  that 
plain  enclosure  yonder — here  men  and  women,  heart  to 


KM  HENRY   W.    GRADY, 

heart,  with  not  a  man  dismayed,  not  a  woman  idle — 
while  Hi--  multiplied  wolves  of  debt  and  mortgage,  and 
trust  and  monopoly,  swarm  from  every  thicket ;  lim-  \\c 
must  liu-lii  the  ultimate  battle  for  the  independence  of  our 
people  and  the  happiness  of  our  homes. 

>  Now  let  us  look  at  the  facts  :  First,  the  notable  move- 
ment of  the  population  in  America  is  from  the  country  to 
the  cities.  In  1840— a  generation  ago,  only  one-twelfth  of 
the  American  people  lived  in  cities  of  m<>iv  than  8000 
people.  In  1850,  one-eighth  ;  in  1860,  one-sixth  ;  in  1870, 
one-fifth  ;  in  1880,  one-fourth.  In  the  past  half-century 
the  population  of  cities  has  increased  more  than  four  times 
as  rapidly  as  that  of  the  country.  Mind  you,  when  I  say 
i hat  the  city  population  has  increased  in  one  generation 
from  8  per  cent,  to  25  per  cent.«in  population,  I  mean  the 
population  of  cities  of  more  than  8000  people.  There  is 
not  such  a  city  in  this  congressional  district.  It  is  the  vil- 
lage and  town  population,  as  well  as  that  of  the  farms, 
that  goes  to  swell  so  enormously  the  population  of  the 
great  cities.  Thus  we  see  diminishing  with  amazing  rapid- 
ity that  rural  population  that  is  the  strength  and  the  safety 
of  the  people — slow  to  anger  and  thus  a  safeguard,  but  ter- 
rible in  its  wrath,  and  thus  a  tremendous  corrective  power. 
No  greater  calamity  could  befall  any  country  than  the 
sacrifice  of  its  town  and  village  and  country  life.  I  rejoice 
in  Atlanta's  growth,  and  yet  I  wonder  whether  it  is  worth 
what  it  cost  when  I  know  that  her  population  has  been 
drawn  largely  from  rural  Georgia,  and  that  back  of  her 
grandeur  are  thousands  of  deserted  farms  and  dismantled 
homes.  As  much  as  I  love  her — and  she  is  all  to  me  that 
home  can  be  to  any  man — if  I  had  the  disposal  of  100,000 
immigrants  at  her  gates  to-morrow,  5000  should  enter 
there,  75,000  should  be  located  in  the  shops  and  factories 
in  Georgia  towns  and  villages,  and  20,000  sent  to  her 
farms.  It  saddens  me  to  see  a  bright  young  fellow  come 
to  my  office  from  village  or  country,  and  I  shudder  when  I 
think  for  what  a  feverish  and  speculative  and  uncertain 
life  he  has  bartered  his  rural  birthright,  and  surrendered 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND    SPEECHES.  165 

the  deliberation  and  tranquillity  of  his  life  on  the  farm. 
It  is  just  that  deliberate  life  that  this  country  needs,  for 
the  fever  of  the  cities  is  already  affecting  its  system. 
Character,  like  corn,  is  dug  from  the  soil.  A  contented 
rural  population  is  not  only  the  measure  of  our  strength, 
and  an  assurance  of  its  peace  when  there  should  be  peace, 
and  a  resource  of  courage  when  peace  would  be  cowardice — 
but  it  is  the  nursery  of  the  great  leaders  who  have  made 
this  country  what  it  is.  Washington  was  born  and  lived 
in  the  country.  Jefferson  was  a  farmer.  Henry  Clay  rode 
his  horse  to  the  mill  in  the  slashes.  Webster  dreamed 
amid  the  solitude  of  Marshfield.  Lincoln  was  a  rail  split- 
ter. Our  own  Hill  walked  between  the  handles  of  the 
plow.  Brown  peddled  barefoot  the  product  of  his  patch. 
Stephens  found  immortality  under  the  trees  of  his  country 
home.  Toombs  and  Cobb  and  Calhoun  were  country  gen- 
tlemen, and  afar  from  the  cities'  maddening  strife  estab- 
lished that  greatness  that  is  the  heritage  of  their  people. 
The  cities  produce  very  few  leaders.  Almost  every  man  in 
our  history  formed  his  character  in  the  leisure  and  delib- 
eration of  village  or  country  life,  and  drew  his  strength 
from  the  drugs  of  the  earth  even  as  a  child  draws  his 
from  his  mother's  breast.  In  the  diminution  of  this  rural 
population,  virtuous  and  competent,  patriotic  and  honest, 
living  beneath  its  own  roof-tree,  building  its  altars  by  its 
own  hearthstone  and  shrining  in  its  own  heart  its  liberty 
and  its  conscience,  there  is  abiding  cause  for  regret.  In 
the  corresponding  growth  of  our  cities — already  center 
spots  of  danger,  with  their  idle  classes,  their  sharp  rich 
and  poor,  their  corrupt  politics,  their  consorted  thieves, 
and  their  clubs  and  societies  of  anarchy  and  socialism — I 
see  a  pressing  and  impending  danger.  Let  it  be  noted  that 
the  professions  are  crowded,  that  middlemen  are  multi- 
plied beyond  reason,  that  the  factories  can  in  six  months 
supply  the  demand  of  twelve — that  machinery  is  con- 
stantly taking  the  place  of  men — that  labor  in  every 
department  bids  against  itself  until  it  is  mercilessly  in  the 
hands  of  the  employer,  that  the  new-comers  are  largely  re- 


166  HENRY    W.    GRADY, 

emits  of  the  idle  and  dangerous  classes,  and  we  can  appre- 
ciate something  of  the  danger  that  comes  with  this  increas- 
ing movement  to  strip  the  villages  and  the  farms  and  send 
an  increasing  volume  into  the  already  overcrowded  cities. 
This  is  but  one  phase  of  that  tendency  to  centralization 
and  congestion  which  is  threatening  the  liberties  of  this 
people  and  the  life  of  this  Republic. 

Now,  let  us  go  one  step  further.  What  is  the  most 
notable  financial  movement  in  America  ?  It  is  the  mort- 
gaging of  the  farm  lands  of  the  country — the  bringing  of 
the  farmer  into  bondage  to  the  money-lender.  In  Illinois 
the  farms  are  mortgaged  for  $200,000,000,  in  Iowa  for 
$140,000,000,  in  Kansas  for  $160,000,000,  and  so  on  through 
the  Northwest.  In  Georgia  about  $20,000,000  of  foreign 
capital  holds  in  mortgage  perhaps  one- fourth  of  Georgia's 
farms,  and  the  work  is  but  started.  Every  town  has  its 
loan  agent — a  dozen  companies  are  quartered  in  Atlanta, 
and  the  work  goes  briskly  on.  A  mortgage  is  the  bull- 
dog of  obligations — a  very  mud-turtle  for  holding  on.  It 
is  the  heaviest  thing  of  its  weight  in  the  world.  I  had  one 
once,  and  sometimes  I  used  to  feel,  as  it  rested  on  my  roof, 
deadening  the  rain  that  fell  there,  and  absorbing  the  sun- 
shine, that  it  would  crush  through  the  shingles  and  the 
rafters  and  overwhelm  me  with  its  dull  and  persistent 
weight,  and  when  at  last  I  paid  it  off,  I  went  out  to  look 
at  the  shingles  to  see  if  it  had  not  flopped  back  there  of  its 
own  accord.  Think  of  it,  Iowa  strips  from  her  farmers 
$14,000,000  of  interest  every  year,  and  sends  it  to  New 
York  and  Boston  to  be  reloaned  on  farms  in  other  States, 
and  to  support  and  establish  the  dominion  of  the  money- 
lenders over  the  people.  Georgia  gathers  from  her  lan- 
guishing fields  $2,000,000  of  interest  every  year,  and  sends 
it  away  forever.  Could  her  farmers  but  keep  it  at  home, 
one  year's  interest  would  build  factories  to  supply  at  cost 
every  yard  of  bagging  and  every  pound  of  guano  the 
farmers  need,  establish  her  exchanges  and  their  ware* 
houses,  and  have  left  more  than  a  million  dollars  for  the 
improvement  of  their  farms  and  their  homes.  And  year 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  167 

after  year  this  drain  not  only  continues,  but  deepens. 
What  will  be  the  end?  Ireland  has  found  it.  Her  peas- 
ants in  their  mud  cabins,  sending  every  tithe  of  their  earn- 
ings to  deepen  the  purple  luxury  of  London,  where  their 
landlords  live,  realize  how  poor  is  that  country  whose  farms 
are  owned  in  mortgage  or  fee  simple  by  those  who  live 
beyond  its  borders.  If  every  Irish  landlord  lived  on  his 
estate,  bought  of  his  tenants  the  product  of  their  farms, 
and  invested  his  rents  in  Irish  industries,  this  Irish  ques- 
tion that  is  the  shame  of  the  world  would  be  settled  with- 
out legislation  or  strife.  Georgia  can  never  go  to  Ireland' s 
degradation,  but  every  Georgia  farm  put  under  mortgage 
to  a  foreign  capitalist  is  a  step  in  that  direction,  arid  every 
dollar  sent  out  as  interest  leaves  the  State  that  much 
poorer.  I  do  not  blame  the  farmers.  It  is  a  miracle  that 
out  of  their  poverty  they  have  done  so  well.  I  simply  de- 
plore the  result,  and  ask  you  to  note  in  the  millions  of 
acres  that  annually  pass  under  mortgage  to  the  money- 
lenders of  the  East,  and  in  the  thousands  of  independent 
country  homes  annually  surrendered  as  hostages  to  their 
hands,  another  evidence  of  that  centralization  that  is 
drinking  up  the  life-blood  of  this  broad  Republic. 

Let  us  go  one  step  further.  All  protest  as  to  our  indus- 
trial condition  is  met  with  the  statement  that  America  is 
startling  the  world  with  its  growth  and  progress.  Is  this 
growth  symmetrical — is  this  progress  shared  by  every 
class  \  Let  the  tax-books  of  Georgia  answer.  This  year, 
for  the  first  time  since  1860,  our  taxable  wealth  is  equal  to 
that  with  which,  excluding  our  slaves,  we  entered  the  civil 
war — 8368,000,000.  There  is  cause  for  rejoicing  in  this 
wonderful  growth  from  the  ashes  and  desolation  of  twenty 
years  ago,  but  the  tax-books  show  that  while  the  towns 
and  cities  are  $60,000,000  richer  than  they  were  in  1860, 
the  farmers  are  $50,000,000  poorer. 

Who  produced  this  wealth  ?  In  1865,  when  our  towns 
and  cities  were  paralyzed,  when  not  a  mine  or  quarry  was 
open,  hardly  a  mill  or  a  factory  running ;  when  we  had 
neither  money  or  credit,  it  was  the  farmers'  cotton  that 


168  I1KNKY    W.    GRADY, 

started  the  mills  of  indust  ry  and  of  trade.  Since  that  des- 
olate year,  when,  uruinu  his  horse  down  the  furrow,  plowing 
through  fields  on  which  he  had  staggered  amid  the  storm  of 
battle,  he  began  the  rehabilitation  of  Georgia  with  no  friend 
near  him  save  nature  that  smiled  at  his  kindly  touch,  and 
God  that  sent  him  the  message  of  cheer  through  the  rustl- 
ing leaves,  he  has  dug  from  the  soil  of  Georgia  more  than 
$1,000,000,000  worth  of  product.  From  this  mighty  re- 
source great  cities  have  been  builded  and  countless  for- 
tunes amassed — but  amid  all  the  splendor  he  has  remained 
the  hewer  of  wood  and  the  drawer  of  water.  He  had  made 
the  cities  $00,000,000  richer  than  they  were  when  the  war 
began,  and  he  finds  himself,  in  the  sweat  of  whose  brow 
this  miracle  was  wrought,  $50,000,000  poorer  than  he  then 
was.  Perhaps  not  a  farmer  in  this  audience  knew  this 
fact — but  I  doubt  if  there  is  one  in  the  audience  who  has 
not  felt  in  his  daily  life  the  disadvantage  that  in  twenty 
short  years  has  brought  about  this  stupendous  difference. 
Let  the  figures  speak  for  themselves.  The  farmer — the 
first  figure  to  stumble  amid  the  desolate  dawn  of  our  new 
life  and  to  salute  the  coming  day — hurrying  to  market 
with  the  harvest  of  his  hasty  planting  that  Georgia  might 
once  more  enter  the  lists  of  the  living  States  and  buy  the 
wherewithal  to  still  her  wants  and  clothe  her  nakedness— 
always  apparently  the  master  of  the  situation,  has  he  not 
been  really  its  slave,  when  he  finds  himself  at  the  end  of 
twenty  hard  and  faithful  years $110, 000, 000  out  of  balance? 
Now,  let  us  review  the  situation  a  moment.  I  have 
shown  you,  first,  that  the  notable  drift  of  population  is  to 
the  loss  of  village  and  country,  and  the  undue  and  danger- 
ous growth  of  the  city;  second,  that  the  notable  movement 
of  finance  is  that  which  is  bringing  villages  and  country 
under  mortgage  to  the  city;  and  third,  that  they  who  handle 
the  products  for  sale  profit  more  thereby  than  those  who 
create  them — the  difference  in  one  State  in  twenty  years 
reaching  the  enormous  sum  of  $110,000,000.  Are  these 
healthy  tendencies?  Do  they  not  demand  the  earnest  and 
thoughtful  consideration  of  every  patriotic  citizen  ?  The 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND    SI'KKCHER.  169 

problem  of  the  day  is  to  check  these  three  currents  that 
are  already  pouring  against  the  bulwarks  of  our  peace  and 
prosperity.  To  anchor  the  farmer  to  his  land  and  the  vil- 
lager to  his  home  ;  to  enable  him  to  till  the  land  under 
equal  conditions  and  to  hold  that  home  in  independence  ; 
to  save  with  his  hands  the  just  proportion  of  his  labor,  that 
he  may  sow  in  content  and  reap  in  justice, — this  is  what 
we  need.  The  danger  of  the  day  is  centralization,  its 
salvation  diffusion.  Cut  that  word  deep  in  your  heart. 
This  Republic  differs  from  Russia  only  because  the  powers 
centralized  there  in  one  man  are  here  diffused  among  the 
people.  Western  Ohio  is  happy  and  tranquil,  while 
Chicago  is  feverish  and  dangerous,  because  the  people  dif- 
fused in  the  towns  and  the  villages  of  the  one  are  central- 
ized and  packed  in  the  tenements  of  the  other  ;  but  of  all 
centralization  that  menaces  our  peace  and  threatens  our 
liberties,  is  the  consolidation  of  capital — and  of  all  the 
diffusion  that  is  needed  in  this  Republic,  congesting  at  so 
many  points,  is  the  leveling  of  our  colossal  fortunes  and 
the  diffusion  of  our  gathered  wealth  amid  the  great  middle 
classes  of  this  people.  As  this  question  underruns  the 
three  tendencies  we  have  been  discussing,  let  us  consider 
it  a  moment. 

Few  men  comprehend  the  growth  of  private  fortunes  in 
this  country,  and  the  encroachments  they  have  made  on 
the  rest  of  the  people.  Take  one  instance  :  A  man  in 
Chicago  that  had  a  private  fortune  secured  control  of  all 
the  wheat  in  the  country,  and  advanced  the  price  until 
flour  went  up  three  dollars  a  barrel.  When  he  collected 
$4,000,000  of  this  forced  tribute  from  the  people,  he  opened 
his  corner  and  released  the  wheat,  and  the  world,  forgetting 
the  famishing  children  from  whose  hungry  lips  he  had  stolen 
the  crust,  praised  him  as  the  king  of  finance  and  trade. 
Let  us  analyze  this  deal.  The  farmer  who  raised  the  wheat 
got  not  one  cent  of  the  added  profit.  The  mills  that  ground 
it  not  one  cent.  Every  dollar  went  to  swell  the  toppling 
fortunes  of  him  who  never  sowed  it  to  the  ground,  nor  fed 
it  to  the  thundering  wheels,  but  who  knew  it  only  as  the 


1?H  IIKNRY    W.    GRADY, 

chance,  instrument  of  his  infamous  scheme.  Why,  our 
fathers  declared  war  against  Midland,  their  mother  country, 
from  whose  womb  they  came,  because  she  levied  two  cents 
a  pound  on  our  tea,  and  yet.  without  a  murmur,  we  sub- 
mit to  ten  times  this  tax  placed  on  the  bread  of  our  mouths, 
and  levied  by  u  private  citi/.eii  for  no  reason  save  his  mved, 
and  no  right  save  his  might.  Were  a  man  to  enter  an 
humble  home  in  England,  bind  the  father  hr]p]«-ss,  stamp 
out  the  lire  on  the  hearthstone,  empty  the  scanty  larder, 
and  leave  the  family  for  three  weeks  cold  and  hungry  and 
helpless,  he  would  be  dealt  with  by  the  law  ;  and  yet  four 
men  in  New  York  cornered  the  world's  cotton  crop  and 
held  it  until  the  English  spindles  were  stopped  and  14,000,- 
000  operatives  sent  idle  and  empty-handed  to  their  homes, 
to  divide  their  last  crust  with  their  children,  and  then  sit 
down  and  suffer  until  the  greed  of  the  speculators  was  tilled. 
The  sugar  refineries  combined  their  plants  at  a  cost  of 
$14,000,000,  and  so  raised  the  price  of  sugar  that  they 
made  the  first  year  $9,500,000  profit,  and  since  then  have 
advanced  it  rapidly  until  we  sweeten  our  coffee  absolutely 
in  their  caprice.  When  the  bagging  mills  were  threatened 
with  a  reduced  tariff,  they  made  a  trust  and  openly  boasted 
that  they  intended  to  make  one  season's  profits  pay  the 
entire  cost  of  their  mills — and  these  precious  villains,  whom 
thus  far  the  lightnings  have  failed  to  blast,  having  carried 
out  their  infamous  boast,  organized  for  a  deeper  steal  this 
season.  And  so  it  goes.  There  is  not  a  thing  we  eat  or 
drink,  nor  an  article  we  must  have  for  the  comfort  of  our 
homes,  that  may  not  be  thus  seized  and  controlled  and 
made  an  instrument  for  the  shameless  plundering  of  the 
people.  It  is  a  shame — this  people  patient  and  cheerful 
under  the  rise  or  fall  of  prices  that  come  with  the  failure 
of  God's  season's  charge  as  its  compensation — or  under  the 
advance  at  the  farm  which  enriches  the  farmer,  or  under 
that  competitive  demand  which  bespeaks  brisk  prosperit  y— - 
this  people  made  the  prey  and  the  sport  of  plunderers  who 
levy  tribute  through  a  system  that  mocks  at  God's  recurr- 
ing rains,  knows  not  the  farmer,  and  locks  competition  in 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  171 

the  grasp  of  monopoly.  And  the  millions,  thus  wrung 
from  the  people,  loaned  back  to  them  at  usury,  laying  the ' 
blight  of  the  mortgage  on  their  homes,  and  the  obligation 
of  debt  on  their  manhood.  Talk  about  the  timidity  of 
capital.  That  is  a  forgotten  phrase.  In  the  power  and 
irresponsibility  of  this  sudden  and  enormous  wealth  is  bred 
an  insolence  that  knows  no  bounds.  "The  public  be 
damned!"  was  the  sentiment  of  the  plutocrats,  speaking 
through  the  voice  of  Vanderbilt's  millions.  In  cornering 
the  product  and  levying  the  tribute — in  locking  up  abun- 
dant supply  until  the  wheels  of  industry  stop — in  oppress- 
ing through  trusts,  and  domineering  in  the  strength  of 
corporate  power,  the  plutocrats  do  what  no  political  party 
would  dare  attempt  and  what  no  government  on  this  earth 
would  enforce.  The  Czar  of  Russia  would  not  dare  hold 
up  a  product  until  the  mill-wheels  were  idle,  or  lay  an  un- 
usual tax  on  bread  and  meat  to  replenish  his  coffers,  and 
yet  these  things  our  plutocrats,  flagrant  and  irresponsible, 
do  day  after  day  until  public  indignation  is  indignant  and 
shame  is  lost  in  wonder. 

And  when  an  outraged  people  turn  to  government  for 
help  what  do  they  find  \  Their  government  in  the  hands  of 
a  party  that  is  in  sympathy  with  their  oppressors — that 
was  returned  to  power  with  votes  purchased  with  their 
money — and  whose  confessed  leaders  declared  that  trusts 
are  largely  private  concerns  with  which  the  government 
had  naught  to  do.  Not  only  is  the  dominant  party  the 
apologist  of  the  plutocrats  and  the  beneficiary  of  their 
crimes,  but  it  is  based  on  that  principle  of  centralization 
through  which  they  came  into  life  and  on  which  alone  they 
can  exist.  It  holds  that  sovereignty  should  be  taken  from 
the  States  and  lodged  with  the  nation — that  political  pow- 
ers and  privileges  should  be  wrested  from  the  people  and 
guarded  at  the  capital.  It  distrusts  the  people,  and  even 
now  demands  that  your  ballot-boxes  shall  be  hedged  about 
by  its  bayonets.  It  declares  that  a  strong  government  is 
better  than  a  free  government,  and  that  national  authority, 
backed  by  national  armies  and  treasury,  is  a  better  guar- 


172  HI:\KY  \v.  ORADY, 


of  peace  and  prosperity  and  liberty  and  enlighten- 
ment diffused  among  the  people.  To  defend  this  policy, 
that  cannot  be  maintained  by  argument  or  sustained  by 
tin-  love  or  confidence  of  the  people,  it  rallies  under  its  11a# 
tin-  mercenaries  of  the  Republic,  the  syndicate,  the  trust, 
tin-  monopolist,  and  the  plutocrat,  and  strengthening  them 
by  grant  and  protection,  rejoices  as  they  grow  richer  and 
the  people  grow  poorer.  Confident  in  the  debauching 
power  of  money  and  the  unscrupulous  audacity  of  their 
creatures,  they  catch  the  spirit  of  Vanderbilt's  defi- 
ance and  call  aloud  from  their  ramparts,  "the  people  be 
damned  !  "  I  charge  that  this  party  has  bought  its  way  for 
twenty  years.  Its  nucleus  was  the  passion  that  survived 
the  war  —  and  around  this  it  has  gathered  the  protected 
manufacturer,  the  pensioned  soldier,  the  licensed  monopo- 
list, the  privileged  corporation,  the  unchallenged  trust  — 
all  whom  power  can  daunt,  or  money  can  buy,  and  with 
these  in  close  and  constant  phalanx  it  holds  the  govern- 
ment against  the  people.  Not  a  man  in  all  its  ranks  that 
is  not  influenced  by  prejudice  or  bought  by  privilege. 

What  a  spectacle,  my  countrymen  !  This  free  Republic 
in  the  hands  of  a  party  that  withdraws  sovereignty  from 
the  people  that  its  own  authority  may  be  made  supreme— 
that  fans  the  smouldering  embers  of  war,  and  loosing 
among  the  people  the  dogs  of  privilege  and  monopoly  to 
hunt,  and  harrow  and.  rend,  that  its  lines  may  be  made 
stronger  and  its  ramparts  fortified.  And  now,  it  is  com- 
mitted to  a  crime  that  is  without  precedent  or  parallel  in 
the  history  of  any  people,  and  this  crime  it  is  obliged  by 
its  own  necessity  as  well  as  by  its  pledge  to  commit  as  soon 
as  it  gets  the  full  reins  of  power.  This  crime  is  hidden  in 
the  bill  known  as  the  service  pension  bill,  which  pensions 
every  man  who  enlisted  for  sixty  days  for  the  Union  army. 
Let  us  examine  this  pension  list.  Twelve  years  ago  it 
footed  $46,000,000.  Last  year  it  was  $81,000,000.  This 
year  it  has  already  run  to  over  $100,000,000.  Of  this 
amount  Georgia  pays  about  $3,500,000  a  year.  Think  of 
it.  The  money  that  her  people  have  paid,  through  indirect 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  173 

taxation  into  the  treasury,  is  given,  let  us  say  to  Iowa,  for 
that  State  just  equals  Georgia  in  population.  Every  year 
$3,500,000  wrung  from  her  pockets  and  sent  into  Iowa  as 
pensions  for  her  soldiers.  Since  1865,  out  of  her  poverty, 
Georgia  has  paid  $51,000,000  as  pensions  to  Northern  sol- 
diers—one-sixth of  the  value  of  her  whole  property.  And 
now  it  is  proposed  to  enlarge  the  pension  list  until  it 
includes  every  man  who  enlisted  for  sixty  days.  They  will 
not  fail.  The  last  Congress  passed  a  pension  bill  that 
Commissioner  Black — himself  a  gallant  Union  general- 
studied  deliberately,  and  then  told  the  President  that  if  he 
signed  it,  it  would  raise  the  pension  list  to  $200,000,000, 
and  had  it  not  been  for  the  love  of  the  people  that  ran  in 
the  veins  of  Grover  Cleveland  and  the  courage  of  Democ- 
racy which  flamed  in  his  heart,  that  bill  would  have  been 
law  to-day.  A  worse  bill  will  be  offered.  There  is  a  sur- 
plus of  $120,000,000  in  the  treasury.  While  that  remains 
it  endangers  the  protective  tariff,  behind  which  the  trained 
captains  of  the  Republican  party  muster  their  men.  But 
let  the  pension  list  be  lifted  to  $200,000,000  a  year.  Then 
the  surplus  is  gone  and  a  deficiency  created,  and  the  pro- 
tective tariff  must  be  not  only  perpetuated  but  deepened, 
and  the  vigilance  of  the  spies  and  collectors  increased  to 
meet  the  demands  of  the  government.  And  back  of  it  all 
will  be  mustered  the  army  of  a  million  and  a  half  pension- 
ers, drawing  their  booty  from  the  Republican  party  and 
giving  it  in  turn  their  purchased  allegiance  and  support. 

My  countrymen,  a  thousand  times  I  have  thought  of 
that  historic  scene  beneath  the  apple-tree  at  Appomattox, 
of  Lee's  8000  ragged,  half-starved  immortals,  going  home 
to  begin  anew  amid  the  ashes  of  their  homes,  and  the  graves 
of  their  dead,  the  weary  struggle  for  existence,  and  Grant's 
68,000  splendid  soldiers,  well  fed  and  equipped,  going  home 
to  riot  amid  the  plenty  of  a  grateful  and  prosperous  people, 
and  I  have  thought  how  hard  it  was  that  out  of  our  poverty 
we  should  be  taxed  to  pay  their  pension,  and  to  divide  with 
this  rich  people  the  crust  we  scraped  up  from  the  ashes  of 
our  homes.  And  I  have  thought  when  their  maimed  and 


174  IIF.XKY    \V.    GRADY, 

hdpless  soldiers  were  sheltered  in  superb  homes,  and  lapped 
in  luxury,  while  our  poor  cripples  limped  along  the  high- 
way or  hid  th<-ir  sham<>  in  huts,  or  broke  bitter  bread  in  the 
county  poor-house,  how  haul  it  was  that,  of  all  the  millions 
we  send  them  annually,  we  can  save  not  one  dollar  to  go  to 
our  old  heroes,  who  deserve  so  much  and  get  so  little.  And 
yet  we  made  no  complaint.  We  were  willing  that  every 
Union  soldier  made  helpless  by  the  war  should  have  his 
pension  and  his  home,  and  thank  God,  without  setting  our 
crippled  soldiers  on  the  curbstone  of  distant  Babylons  to 
beg,  as  blind  Belisarius  did,  from  the  passing  stranger.  We 
have  provided  them  a  home  in  which  they  can  rest  in  honor- 
able peace  until  God  has  called  them  hence  to  a  home  not 
made  with  hands,  eternal  in  the  heavens.  We  have  not 
complained  that  our  earnings  have  gone  to  pension  Union 
soldiers — the  maimed  soldiers  of  the  Union  armies.  But 
the  scheme  to  rob  the  people  that  every  man  who  enlisted 
for  sixty  days,  or  his  widow,  shall  be  supported  at  public 
expense  is  an  outrage  that  must  not  be  submitted  to.  It 
is  not  patriotism — it  is  politics.  It  is  not  honesty — it  is 
plunder.  The  South  has  played  a  patient  and  a  waiting 
game  for  twenty  years,  fearing  to  protest  against  what  she 
knew  to  be  wrong  in  the  fear  that  she  would  be  misunder- 
stood. I  fear  that  she  has  gained  little  by  this  course  save 
the  contempt  of  her  enemies.  The  time  has  come  when  she 
should  stand  upright  among  the  States  of  this  Republic  and 
declare  her  mind  and  stand  by  her  convictions.  She  must 
not  stand  silent  while  this  crowning  outrage  is  perpetrated. 
It  means  that  the  Republican  party  will  loot  the  treasury 
to  recruit  its  ranks — that  $70,000,000  a  year  shall  be  taken 
from  the  South  to  enrich  the  North,  thus  building  up  one 
section  against  another — that  the  protective  tariff  shall  be 
deepened,  thus  building  one  class  against  another,  and  that 
the  party  of  trusts  and  monopoly  shall  be  kept  in  power, 
the  autonomy  of  the  Republic  lost,  the  government  cen- 
tralized, the  oligarchs  established,  and  justice  to  the  people 
postponed.  But  this  party  will  not  prevail,  even  though 
its  pension  bill  should  pass,  and  its  pretorial  God  be  esta- 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  175 

Wished  in  every  Northern  State.  It  was  Louis  XVI.  who 
peddled  the  taxing  privileges  to  his  friends,  and  when  the 
people  protested  surrounded  himself  with  an  army  of  Swiss 
mercenaries.  His  minister,  Neckar,  said  to  him  :  "  Sire,  I 
beseech  you  send  away  these  Swiss  and  trust  your  people"  ; 
but  the  king,  confident  in  his  strength  and  phalanx,  buckled 
it  close  about  him  and  plundered  the  people  until  his  head 
paid  the  penalty  of  his  crime.  So  this  party,  bartering 
privileges  and  setting  up  classes,  may  feel  secure  as  it 
closes  the  ranks  of  its  mercenaries,  but  some  day  the  great 
American  heart  will  burst  with  righteous  wrath,  and  the 
voice  of  the  people,  which  is  the  voice  of  God,  will  chal- 
lenge the  traitors,  and  the  great  masses  will  rise  in  their 
might,  and  breaking  down  the  defenses  of  the  oligarchs, 
will  hurl  them  from  power  and  restore  this  Republic  to  the 
old  moorings  from  which  it  had  been  swept  by  the  storm. 

The  government  can  protect  its  citizens.  It  is  of  the 
people,  and  it  shall  not  perish  from  the  face  of  the  earth. 
It  can  top  off  these  colossal  fortunes  and,  by  an  income  tax, 
retard  their  growth.  It  can  set  a  limit  to  personal  and 
corporate  wealth.  It  can  take  trusts  and  syndicates  by  the 
throat.  It  can  shatter  monopoly  ;  it  can  equalize  the  bur- 
den of  taxation  ;  it  can  distribute  its  privileges  impartially  ; 
it  can  clothe  with  credit  its  land  now  discredited  at  its 
banks ;  it  can  lift  the  burdens  from  the  farmer's  shoulders, 
give  him  equal  strength  to  bear  them — it  can  trust  the 
people  in  whose  name  this  Republic  was  founded  ;  in  whose 
courage  it  was  defended  ;  in  whose  wisdom  it  has  been 
administered,  and  whose  stricken  love  and  confidence  it  can 
not  survive. 

But  the  government,  no  matter  what  it  does,  does  not  do 
all  that  is  needed,  nor  the  most ;  that  is  conceded,  for  all 
true  reform  must  begin  with  the  people  at  their  homes.  A 
few  Sundays  ago  I  stood  on  a  hill  in  Washington.  My 
heart  thrilled  as  I  looked  on  the  towering  marble  of  my 
country's  Capitol,  and  a  mist  gathered  in  my  eyes  as,  stand- 
ing there,  I  thought  of  its  tremendous  significance  and  the 
powers  there  assembled,  and  the  responsibilities  there 


176  HENRY   W.    GRADY, 


—  its  presidents,  its  congress,  its  courts,  its  gathered 
its  :inny,  its  IIMVV,  ;m<l  its  <;<>,<)()<).<)<)<>  of  citizens. 
It  seemed  to  me  tin-  l>.-si  ;m<l  mightiest  sight  tliat  the  sun 
could  lind  in  its  wheeling  course  —  this  majestic  home  of 
a  Republic  that  has  taught  the  world  its  best  lessons  of 
lilnTiy  :uid  I  felt  that  if  wisdom,  and  justice,  and  honor 
abided  therein,  the  world  would  stand  indebted  to  this 
temple  on  which  my  eyes  rested,  and  in  which  the  ark  of 
my  covenant  was  lodged  for  its  final  uplifting  and  regen- 
eration. 

A  few  days  later  I  visited  a  country  home.  A  modest, 
quiet  house  sheltered  by  great  trees  and  set  in  a  circle  of 
field  and  meadow,  gracious  with  the  promise  of  harvest  — 
barns  and  cribs  well  filled  and  the  old  smoke-house  odorous 
with  treasure  —  the  fragrance  of  pink  and  hollyhock  min- 
gling with  the  aroma  of  garden  and  orchard,  and  resonant 
with  the  hum  of  bees  and  poultry's  busy  clucking  —  inside 
the  house,  thrift,  comfort  and  that  cleanliness  that  is  next 
to  godliness  —  the  restful  beds,  the  open  fireplace,  the  books 
and  papers,  and  the  old  clock  that  had  held  its  steadfast 
pace  amid  the  frolic  of  weddings,  that  had  welcomed  in 
steady  measure  the  newborn  babes  of  the  family,  and  kept 
company  with  the  watchers  of  the  sick  bed,  and  had  ticked 
the  solemn  requiem  of  the  dead  ;  and  the  well-worn  Bible 
that,  thumbed  by  fingers  long  since  stilled,  and  blurred 
with  tears  of  eyes  long  since  closed,  held  the  simple  annals 
of  the  family,  and  the  heart  and  conscience  of  the  home. 
Outside  stood  the  master,  strong  and  wholesome  and 
upright;  wearing  no  man's  collar;  with  no  mortgage  on 
his  roof,  and  no  lien  on  his  ripening  harvest  ;  pitching  his 
crops  in  his  own  wisdom,  and  selling  them  in  his  own  time 
in  his  chosen  market  ;  master  of  his  lands  and  master  of 
himself.  Near  by  stood  his  aged  father,  happy  in  the 
heart  and  home  of  his  son.  And  as  they  started  to  the 
house  the  old  man's  hands  rested  on  the  young  man's 
shoulder,  touching  it  with  the  knighthood  of  the  fourth 
commandment,  and  laying  there  the  unspeakable  blessing 
of  an  honored  and  grateful  father.  As  they  drew  near  the 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  177 

door  the  old  mother  appeared  ;  the  sunset  falling  on  her 
face,  softening  its  wrinkles  and  its  tenderness,  lighting  up 
her  patient  eyes,  and  the  rich  music  of  her  heart  trembling 
on  her  lips,  as  in  simple  phrase  she  welcomed  her  husband 
and  son  to  their  home.  Beyond  was  the  good  wife,  true  of 
touch  and  tender,  happy  amid  her  household  cares,  clean 
of  heart  and  conscience,  the  helpmate  and  the  buckler  of 
her  husband.  And  the  children,  strong  and  sturdy,  troop- 
ing down  the  lane  with  the  lowing  herd,  or  weary  of  simple 
sport,  seeking,  as  truant  birds  do,  the  quiet  of  the  old  home 
nest.  And  I  saw  the  night  descend  on  that  home,  falling 
gently  as  from  the  wings  of  the  unseen  dove.  And  the 
stars  swarmed  in  the  bending  skies — the  trees  thrilled 
with  the  cricket's  cry — the  restless  bird  called  from  the 
neighboring  wood — and  the  father,  a  simple  man  of  God, 
gathering  the  family  about  him,  read  from  the  Bible  the 
old,  old  story  of  love  and  faith,  and  then  went  down  in 
prayer,  the  baby  hidden  amid  the  folds  of  its  mother's 
dress,  and  closed  the  record  of  that  simple  day  by  calling 
down  the  benediction  of  God  on  the  family  and  the  home ! 
And  as  I  gazed  the  memory  of  the  great  Capitol  faded 
from  my  brain.  Forgotten  its  treasure  and  its  splendor. 
And  I  said,  "  Surely  here — here  in  the  homes  of  the  people 
is  lodged  the  ark  of  the  covenant  of  my  country.  Here  is 
its  majesty  and  its  strength.  Here  the  beginning  of  its 
power  and  the  end  of  its  responsibility."  The  homes  of 
the  people ;  let  us  keep  them  pure  and  independent,  and 
all  will  be  well  with  the  Republic.  Here  is  the  lesson  our 
foes  may  learn — here  is  work  the  humblest  and  weakest 
hands  may  do.  Let  us  in  simple  thrift  and  economy  make 
our  homes  independent.  Let  us  in  frugal  industry  make 
them  self-sustaining.  In  sacrifice  and  denial  let  us  keep 
them  free  from  debt  and  obligation.  Let  us  make  them 
homes  of  refinement  in  which  we  shall  teach  our  daughters 
that  modesty  and  patience  and  gentleness  are  the  charms 
of  woman.  Let  us  make  them  temples  of  liberty,  and  teach 
our  sons  that  an  honest  conscience  is  every  man's  first 
political  law.  That  his  sovereignty  rests  beneath  his  hat, 


178  IIK.NKV     \\\    (iUADY, 

and  that  no  splendor  run  r«.l>  him  and  no  force  justify  the 
surrender  of  I  In- simplest  right  of  a  free  and  independent 
citi/eii.  And  above  all,  let  us  honor  God  in  our  lion. 
anchor  them  close  in  His  love.  Build  Ili^  altars  above  our 
hearthstones,  uphold  them  in  the  set  and  simple  faith  of 
our  fathers  and  crown  them  with  the  Bible — that  book  of 
books  in  which  all  the  ways  of  life  are  made  straight  and 
the  mystery  of  death  is  made  plain.  The  home  is  the 
source  of  our  national  life.  Back  of  the  national  Capitol 
and  above  it  stands  the  home.  Back  of  the  President  and 
above  him  stands  the  citizen.  What  the  home  is,  this  and 
nothing  else  will  the  Capitol  be.  What  the  citizen  wills, 
this  and  nothing  else  will  the  President  be. 

Now,  my  friends,  I  am  no  farmer.  I  have  not  sought 
to  teach  you  the  details  of  your  work,  for  I  know  little  of 
them.  I  have  not  commended  your  splendid  local  advan- 
tages, for  that  I  shall  do  elsewhere.  I  have  not  discussed 
the  differences  between  the  farmer  and  other  classes,  for  I 
believe  in  essential  things  there  is  no  difference  between 
them,  and  that  minor  differences  should  be  sacrificed  to  the 
greater  interest  that  depends  on  a  united  people.  I  seek 
not  to  divide  our  people,  but  to  unite  them.  I  should 
despise  myself  if  I  pandered  to  the  prejudice  of  either  class 
to  win  the  applause  of  the  other. 

But  I  have  noted  these  great  movements  that  des- 
troy the  equilibrium  and  threaten  the  prosperity  of  my 
country,  and  standing  above  passion  and  prejudice  or 
demagoguery  I  invoke  every  true  citizen,  fighting  from  his 
hearthstone  outward,  with  the  prattle  of  his  children  on 
his  ear,  and  the  hand  of  his  wife  and  mother  closely 
damped,  to  determine  here  to  make  his  home  sustaining 
and  independent,  and  to  pledge  eternal  hostility  to  the 
forces  that  threaten  our  liberties,  and  the  party  that  stands 
behind  it. 

When  I  think  of  the  tremendous  force  of  the  currents 
against  which  we  must  fight,  of  the  great  political  party 
that  impels  that  fight,  of  the  countless  host  of  mercenaries 
that  ii<:lit  under  its  flag,  of  the  enormous  powers  of  govern- 


HIS   LIFE,    WHITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  179 

ment  privilege  and  monopoly  that  back  them  up,  I  confess 
my  heart  sinks  within  me,  and  I  grow  faint.  But  I  re- 
member that  the  servant  of  Elisha  looked  abroad  from 
Samaria  and  beheld  the  hosts  that  encompassed  the  city, 
and  said  in  agonized  fear :  "  Alas,  master,  what  shall  we 
do  ? "  and  the  answer  of  Elisha  was  the  answer  of  every 
brave  man  and  faithful  heart  in  all  ages:  "Fear  not,  for 
they  that  be  with  us  are  more  than  they  that  be  with 
them,"  and  this  faith  opened  the  eyes  of  the  servant  of 
the  man  of  God,  and  he  looked  up  again,  and  lo,  the  air 
was  filled  with  chariots  of  fire,  and  the  mountains  were 
filled  with  horsemen,  and  they  compassed  the  city  about 
as  a  mighty  and  unconquerable  host.  Let  us  fight  in 
such  faith,  and  fear  not.  The  air  all  about  us  is  filled 
with  chariots  of  unseen  allies,  and  the  mountains  are 
thronged  with  unseen  knights  that  shall  fight  with  us. 
Fear  not,  for  they  that  be  with  us  are  more  than  they  that 
be  with  them.  Buckle  on  your  armor,  gird  about  your 
loins,  stand  upright  and  dauntless  while  I  summon  you  to 
the  presence  of  the  immortal  dead.  Your  fathers  and  mine 
yet  live,  though  they  speak  not,  and  will  consecrate  this 
air  with  their  wheeling  chariots,  and  above  them  and 
beyond  them  to  the  Lord  God  Almighty,  King  of  the 
Hosts  in  whose  unhindered  splendor  we  stand  this  morning. 
Look  up  to  them,  be  of  good  cheer,  and  faint  not,  for 
they  shall  fight  with  us  when  we  strike  for  liberty  and 
truth,  and  all  the  world,  though  it  be  banded  against 
us,  shall  not  prevail  against  them. 


180  HKNJiV    \V.    GKADY, 


AT  THE  BOSTON  BANQUET. 


IN  HIS  SPEECH  AT  THE  ANNUAL  BANQUET  OF  THE  BOSTON 
MERCHANTS'  ASSOCIATION    IN  DECEMBER,  1889,    MR. 
GRADY  SAID  : 

MR.  PRESIDENT  :  Bidden  by  your  invitation  to  a  discus- 
sion of  the  race  problem — forbidden  by  occasion  to  make  a 
political  speech — I  appreciate  in  trying  to  reconcile  orders 
with  propriety  the  predicament  of  the  little  maid  who, 
bidden  to  learn  to  swim,  was  yet  adjured,  "Now,  go,  my 
darling,  hang  your  clothes  on  a  hickory  limb,  and  don't 
go  near  the  water." 

The  stoutest  apostle  of  the  church,  they  say,  is  the  mis- 
sionary, and  the  missionary,  wherever  he  unfurls  his  flag, 
will  never  find  himself  in  deeper  need  of  unction  and  address 
than  I,  bidden  to-night  to  plant  the  standard  of  a  Southern 
Democrat  in  Boston's  banquet  hall,  and  discuss  the  problem 
of  the  races  in  the  home  of  Phillips  and  of  Sumner.  But, 
Mr.  President,  if  a  purpose  to  speak  in  perfect  frankness 
and  sincerity ;  if  earnest  understanding  of  the  vast  in- 
terests involved  ;  if  a  consecrating  sense  of  what  disa sin- 
may  follow  further  misunderstanding  and  estrangement,  if 
these  may  be  counted  to  steady  undisciplined  speech  and 
to  strengthen  an  untried  arm — then,  sir,  I  find  the  courage 
to  proceed. 

Happy  am  I  that  this  mission  has  brought  my  feet  at 
last  to  press  New  England's  historic  soil,  and  my  eyes  to 
th«-  knowledge  of  her  beauty  and  her  thrift.  I  It-re,  within 


HIS    LIFE,     WRITINGS,    AND    SPEECHES.  181 

touch  of  Plymouth  Rock  and  Bunker  Hill— where  Webster 
thundered  and  Longfellow  sang,  Emerson  thought  and 
Channing  preached — herein  the  cradle  of  American  letters, 
and  almost  of  American  liberty,  I  hasten  to  make  the  obei- 
sance that  every  American  owes  New  England  when  first  he 
stands  uncovered  in  her  mighty  presence.  Strange  appari- 
tion !  This  stern  and  unique  figure — carved  from  the  ocean 
and  the  wilderness — its  majesty  kindling  and  growing 
amid  the  storms  of  winters  and  of  wars — until  at  last  the 
gloom  was  broken,  its  beauty  disclosed  in  the  sunshine, 
and  the  heroic  workers  rested  at  its  base — while  startled 
kings  and  emperors  gazed  and  marveled  that  from  the  rude 
touch  of  this  handful,  cast  on  a  bleak  and  unknown  shore, 
should  have  come  the  embodied  genius  of  human  govern- 
ment, and  the  perfected  model  of  human  liberty !  God 
bless  the  memory  of  those  immortal  workers — and  prosper 
the  fortunes  of  their  living  sons — and  perpetuate  the 
inspiration  of  their  handiwork. 

Two  years  ago,  sir,  I  spoke  some  words  in  New  York 
that  caught  the  attention  of  the  North.  As  I  stand  here 
to  reiterate,  as  I  have  done  everywhere,  every  word  I  then 
uttered — to  declare  that  the  sentiments  I  then  avowed  were 
universally  approved  in  the  South — I  realize  that  the  con- 
fidence begotten  by  that  speech  is  largely  responsible  for 
my  presence  here  to-night.  I  should  dishonor  myself  if  I 
betrayed  that  confidence  by  uttering  one  insincere  word, 
or  by  withholding  one  essential  element  of  the  truth. 
Apropos  of  this  last,  let  me  confess,  Mr.  President — before 
the  praise  of  New  England  has  died  on  my  lips — that  I 
believe  the  best  product  of  her  present  life  is  the  procession 
of  17,000  Vermont  Democrats  that  for  twenty- two  years, 
undiminished  by  death,  unrecruited  by  birth  or  conversion, 
have  marched  over  their  rugged  hills,  cast  their  Democratic 
ballots,  and  gone  back  home  to  pray  for  their  unregenerate 
neighbors,  and  awake  to  read  the  record  of  26,000  Repub- 
lican majority.  May  the  God  of  the  helpless  and  the  heroic 
help  them — and  may  their  sturdy  tribe  increase  ! 

Far  to  the  south,  Mr.  President,  separated  from  this 


182  HENRY    W.    GRADY, 

section  by  a  line,  once  defined  in  irrepressible  difference, 
once  traced  in  fratricidal  blood,  and  now,  thank  God,  but 
a  vanishing  shadow,  lies  the  fairest  and  richest  domain 
of  this  earth.  It  is  the  home  of  a  brave  and  hospitable 
people.  There,  is  centered  all  that  can  please  or  prosper 
humankind.  A  perfect  climate,  above  a  fertile  soil,  yields 
to  the  husbandman  every  product  of  the  temperate  zone. 
There,  by  night  the  cotton  whitens  beneath  the  stars,  and 
by  day  the  wheat  locks  the  sunshine  in  its  bearded  sheaf. 
In  the  same  field  the  clover  steals  the  fragrance  of  the 
wind,  and  the  tobacco  catches  the  quick  aroma  of  the  rains. 
There,  are  mountains  stored  with  exhaustless  treasures ; 
forests,  vast  and  primeval,  and  rivers  that,  tumbling  or 
loitering,  run  wanton  to  the  sea.  Of  the  three  essential 
items  of  all  industries — cotton,  iron  and  wool — that  region 
has  easy  control.  In  cotton,  a  fixed  monopoly — in  iron, 
proven  supremacy — in  timber,  the  reserve  supply  of  the 
Republic.  From  this  assured  and  permanent  advantage, 
against  which  artificial  conditions  cannot  much  longer 
prevail,  has  grown  an  amazing  system  of  industries.  Not 
maintained  by  human  contrivance  of  tariff  or  capital,  afar 
off  from  the  fullest  and  cheapest  source  of  supply,  but 
resting  in  Divine  assurance,  within  touch  of  field  and  mine 
and  forest — not  set  amid  costly  farms  from  which  competi- 
tion has  driven  the  farmer  in  despair,  but  amid  cheap  and 
sunny  lands,  rich  with  agriculture,  to  which  neither  season 
nor  soil  has  set  a  limit — this  system  of  industries  is  mount- 
ing to  a  splendor  that  shall  dazzle  and  illumine  the  world. 
That,  sir,  is  the  picture  and  the  promise  of  my  home— 
a  land  better  and  fairer  than  I  have  told  you,  and  yet 
but  fit  setting,  in  its  material  excellence,  for  the  loyal 
and  gentle  quality  of  its  citizenship.  Against  that,  sir,  we 
have  New  England,  recruiting  the  Republic  from  its  sturdy 
loins,  shaking  from  its  overcrowded  hives  new  swarms  of 
workers  and  touching  this  land  all  over  with  its  energy 
and  its  courage.  And  yet,  while  in  the  Eldorado  of  which 
I  have  told  you,  but  15  per  cent,  of  lands  are  cultivated,  its 
mines  scarcely  touched  and  its  population  so  scant  that, 


HIS    LIFK,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  183 

were  it  set  equidistant,  the  sound  of  the  human  voice  could 
not  be  heard  from  Virginia  to  Texas — while  on  the  thres- 
hold of  nearly  every  house  in  New  England  stands  a  son, 
seeking  with  troubled  eyes  some  new  land  in  which  to 
carry  his  modest  patrimony,  the  strange  fact  remains  that 
in  1880  the  South  had  fewer  Northern-born  citizens  than 
she  had  in  1870— fewer  in  '70  than  in  '60.  Why  is  this  3 
Why  is  it,  sir,  though  the  sectional  line  be  now  but  a  mist 
that  the  breath  may  dispel,  fewer  men  of  the  North  have 
crossed  it  over  to  the  South  than  when  it  was  crimson 
with  the  best  blood  of  the  Republic,  or  even  when  the 
slaveholder  stood  guard  every  inch  of  its  way  ? 

There  can  be  but  one  answer.  It  is  the  very  problem 
we  are  now  to  consider.  The  key  that  opens  that  problem 
will  unlock  to  the  world  the  fairest  half  of  this  Republic, 
and  free  the  halted  feet  of  thousands  whose  eyes  are 
already  kindling  with  its  beauty.  Better  than  this,  it  will 
open  the  hearts  of  brothers  for  thirty  years  estranged,  and 
clasp  in  lasting  comradeship  a  million  hands  now  withheld 
in  doubt.  Nothing,  sir,  but  this  problem,  and  the  suspi- 
cions it  breeds,  hinders  a  clear  understanding  and  a  perfect 
union.  Nothing  else  stands  between  us  and  such  love  as 
bound  Georgia  and  Massachusetts  at  Valley  Forge  and 
Yorktown,  chastened  by  the  sacrifices  at  Manassas  and 
Gettysburg,  and  illumined  with  the  corning  of  better  work 
and  a  nobler  destiny  than  was  ever  wrought  with  the  sword 
or  sought  at  the  cannon's  mouth. 

If  this  does  not  invite  your  patient  hearing  to-night — 
hear  one  thing  more.  My  people,  your  brothers  in  the 
South — brothers  in  blood,  in  destiny,  in  all  that  is  best  in 
our  past  and  future — are  so  beset  with  this  problem  that 
their  very  existence  depends  upon  its  right  solution.  Nor 
are  they  wholly  to  blame  for  its  presence.  The  slave-ships 
of  the  Republic  sailed  from  your  ports — the  slaves  worked 
in  our  fields.  You  will  not  defend  the  traffic,  nor  I  the  insti- 
tution. But  I  do  hereby  declare  that  in  its  wise  and  hu- 
mane administration,  in  lifting  the  slave  to  heights  of  which 
he  had  not  dreamed  in  his  savage  home,  and  giving  him  a 


1M  III:M:V    w.   GRADY, 

happiness  lie  has  not  yet  found  in  freedom — our  fathers 
l-'I'i  tlifir  sons  a  saving  and  excellent  heritap-.  In  the 
storm  of  war  this  institution  was  lost.  I  thank  God  as 
heartily  as  you  do  that  human  slavery  is  gone  forever  from 
the  American  soiL  But  the  freedman  remains.  AVith  him 
aprohh'in  without  precedent  or  parallel.  Note  its  appal- 
ling  conditions.  Two  utterly  dissimilar  races  on  tin-  same 
soil — with  equal  political  and  civil  rights — almost  equal  in 
numbers,  but  terribly  unequal  in  intelligence  and  responsi- 
bility— each  pledged  against  fusion — one  fora  century  in 
servitude  to  the  other,  and  freed  at  last  by  a  desolating 
war — the  experiment  sought  by  neither,  but  approached 
by  both  with  doubt — these  are  the  conditions.  Under 
these,  adverse  at  every  point,  we  are  required  to  carry  these 
two  races  in  peace  and  honor  to  the  end. 

Never,  sir,  has  such  a  task  been  given  to  mortal  stew- 
ardship. Never  before  in  this  Republic  has  the  white  race 
divided  on  the  rights  of  an  alien  race.  The  red  man  was 
cut  down  as  a  weed,  because  he  hindered  the  way  of  the 
American  citizen.  The  yellow  man  was  shut  out  of  this 
Republic  because  he  is  an  alien  and  inferior.  The  red  man 
was  owner  of  the  land — the  yellow  man  highly  civilized 
and  assimilable — but  they  hindered  both  sections  and  are 
gone  !  But  the  black  man,  affecting  but  one  section,  is 
clothed  with  every  privilege  of  government  and  pinned  to 
the  soil,  and  my  people  commanded  to  make  good  at  any 
hazard,  and  at  any  cost,  his  full  and  equal  heirship  of 
American  privilege  and  prosperity.  It  matters  not  that 
every  other  race  has  been  routed  or  excluded,  without 
rhyme  or  reason.  It  matters  not  that  wherever  the  whites 
and  blacks  have  touched,  in  any  era  or  in  any  clime,  there 
has  been  irreconcilable  violence.  It  matters  not  that  no 
two  races,  however  similar,  have  lived  anywhere  at  any 
time  on  the  same  soil  with  equal  rights  in  peace  !  In  spite 
of  these  things  we  are  commanded  to  make  good  this  change 
of  American  policy  which  has  not  perhaps  changed  Ameri- 
can prejudice — to  make  certain  here  what  has  elsewhere 
been  impossible  between  whites  and  blacks — and  to  reverse, 


HIS    LIFK,    WHITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  185 

under  the  very  worst  conditions,  the  universal  verdict  of 
racial  history.  And  driven,  sir,  to  this  superhuman  task 
with  an  impatience  that  brooks  no  delay — a  rigor  that 
accepts  no  excuse — and  a  suspicion  that  discourages  frank- 
ness and  sincerity.  We  do  not  shrink  from  this  trial.  It 
is  so  interwoven  with  our  industrial  fabric  that  we  cannot 
disentangle  it  if  we  would — so  bound  up  in  our  honorable 
obligation  to  the  world,  that  we  would  not  if  we  could. 
Can  we  solve  it  \  The  God  who  gave  it  into  our  hands, 
He  alone  can  know.  But  this  the  weakest  and  wisest  of  us 
do  know ;  we  cannot  solve  it  with  less  than  your  tolerant 
and  patient  sympathy — with  less  than  the  knowledge  that 
the  blood  that  runs  in  your  veins  is  our  blood — and  that 
when  we  have  done  our  best,  whether  the  issue  be  lost  or 
won,  we  shall  feel  your  strong  arms  about  us  and  hear  the 
beating  of  your  approving  hearts. 

The  resolute,  clear-headed,  broad-minded  men  of  the 
South — the  men  whose  genius  made  glorious  every  page  of 
the  first  seventy  years  of  American  history — whose  cour- 
age and  fortitude  you  tested  in  five  years  of  the  fiercest 
war — whose  energy  has  made  bricks  without  straw  and 
spread  splendor  amid  the  ashes  of  their  war  wasted 
homes — these  men  wear  this  problem  in  their  hearts  and 
their  brains,  by  day  and  by  night.  They  realize,  as  you 
cannot,  what  this  problem  means — what  they  owe  to  this 
kindly  and  dependent  race — the  measure  of  their  debt  to 
the  world  in  whose  despite  they  defended  and  maintained 
slavery.  And  though  their  feet  are  hindered  in  its  under- 
growth, and  their  march  encumbered  with  its  burdens,  they 
have  lost  neither  the  patience  from  which  comes  clearness, 
nor  the  faith  from  which  comes  courage.  Nor,  sir,  when 
in  passionate  moments  is  disclosed  to  them  that  vague  and 
awful  shadow,  with  its  lurid  abysses  and  its  crimson 
stains,  into  which  I  pray  God  they  may  never  go, "are  they 
struck  with  more  of  apprehension  than  is  needed  to  com- 
plete their  consecration  ! 

Such  is  the  temper  of  my  people.  But  what  of  the  prob- 
lem itself  ?  Mr.  President,  we  need  not  go  one  step  fur- 


186  II  i:\KY    \Y.    ORADY, 

ther  unless  you  concede  right  here  the  people  I  speak  for 
are  as  honest,  as  sensible,  mid  MS  just  as  your  people,  seek- 
ing as  earnestly  as  you  would  in  their  place,  to  rightly 
solve  the  problem  that  touches  them  at  every  vital  point. 
If  you  insist  that  they  are  ruflians,  blindly  striving  -with 
bludgeon  and  shotgun  to  plunder  and  oppress  a  race,  then 
I  shall  sacrifice  my  self-respect  and  tax  your  patience  in 
vain.  But  admit  that  they  are  men  of  common  sense  and 
common  honesty — wisely  modifying  an  environment  they 
cannot  wholly  disregard — guiding  and  controlling  as  best 
they  can  the  vicious  and  irresponsible  of  either  race — com- 
pensating error  with  frankness,  and  retrieving  in  patience 
what  they  lose  in  passion — and  conscious  all  the  time  that 
wrong  means  ruin, — admit  this,  and  we  may  reach  an 
understanding  to-night. 

The  President  of  the  United  States  in  his  late  message 
to  Congress,  discussing  the  plea  that  the  South  should  be 
left  to  solve  this  problem,  asks  :  "Are  they  at  work  upon 
it?  What  solution  do  they  offer?  When  will  the  black 
man  cast  a  free  ballot?  When  will  he  have  the  civil 
rights  that  are  his?  "  I  shall  not  here  protest  against  the 
partisanry  that,  for  the  first  time  in  our  history  in  time  of 
peace,  has  stamped  with  the  great  seal  of  our  government 
a  stigma  upon  the  people  of  a  great  and  loyal  section, 
though  I  gratefully  remember  that  the  great  dead  soldier 
who  held  the  helm  of  state  for  the  eight  stormiest  years  of 
reconstruction  never  found  need  for  such  a  step ;  and 
though  there  is  no  personal  sacrifice  I  would  not  make  to 
remove  this  cruel  and  unjust  imputation  on  my  people 
from  the  archives  of  my  country  !  But,  sir,  backed  by  a 
record  on  every  page  of  which  is  progress,  I  venture  to 
make  earnest  and  respectful  answer  to  the  questions  that 
are  asked.  I  bespeak  your  patience,  while  with  vigorous 
plainness  of  speech,  seeking  your  judgment  rather  than 
your  applause,  I  proceed  step  by  step.  We  give  to  the 
world  this  year  a  crop  of  7,500,000  bales  of  cotton,  worth 
s- ir>. 000, 000,  and  its  rash  equivalent  in  grain,  grasses  and 
fruit.  This  enormous  crop  could  not  have  come  from  the 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  187 

hands  of  sullen  and  discontented  labor.  It  comes  from 
peaceful  fields,  in  which  laughter  and  gossip  rise  above 
the  hum  of  industry,  and  contentment  runs  with  the  sing- 
ing plow. 

It  is  claimed  that  this  ignorant  labor  is  defrauded  of  its 
just  hire.  I  present  the  tax-books  of  Georgia,  which  show 
that  the  negro,  25  years  ago  a  slave,  has  in  Georgia  alone 
$10,000,000  of  assessed  property,  worth  twice  that  much. 
Does  not  that  record  honor  him,  and  vindicate  his  neigh- 
bors ?  What  people,  penniless,  illiterate,  has  done  so  well  ? 
For  every  Afro-American  agitator,  stirring  the  strife  in 
which  alone  he  prospers,  I  can  show  you  a  thousand 
negroes,  happy  in  their  cabin  homes,  tilling  their  own  land 
by  day,  and  at  night  taking  from  the  lips  of  their  children 
the  helpful  message  their  State  sends  them  from  the  school- 
house  door.  And  the  schoolhouse  itself  bears  testimony. 
In  Georgia  we  added  last  year  $250,000  to  the  school  fund, 
making  a  total  of  more  than  $1,000,000 — and  this  in  the 
face  of  prejudice  not  yet  conquered — of  the  fact  that  the 
whites  are  assessed  for  $368,000,000,  the  blacks  for  $10,- 
000,000,  and  yet  49  per  cent,  of  the  beneficiaries  are  black 
children — and  in  the  doubt  of  many  wise  men  if  education 
helps,  or  can  help,  our  problem.  Charleston,  with  her 
taxable  values  cut  half  in  two  since  1860,  pays  more  in  pro- 
portion for  public  schools  than  Boston.  Although  it  is 
easier  to  give  much  out  of  much  than  little  out  of  little, 
the  South  with  one-seventh  of  the  taxable  property  of  the 
country,  with  relatively  larger  debt,  having  received  only 
one-twelfth  as  much  public  land,  and  having  back  of  its 
tax-books  none  of  the  half  billion  of  bonds  that  enrich  the 
North — and  though  it  pays  annually  $26,000,000  to  your 
section  as  pensions — yet  gives  nearly  one-sixth  of  the 
public  school-fund.  The  South  since  1865  has  spent  $122,- 
000,000  in  education,  and  this  year  is  pledged  to  $37,000,000 
for  state  and  city  schools,  although  the  blacks  paying  one- 
thirtieth  of  the  taxes  get  nearly  one  half  of  the  fund. 

Go  into  our  fields  and  see  whites  and  blacks  working 
side  by  side.  On  our  buildings  in  the  same  squad.  In  our 


188  IIKXKY     W.     <;RAI>y, 

sho[)s  at  the  same  forge.  Often  the  Marks  crowd  the 
whiles  from  work,  or  lower  wages  by  the  greater  need  or 
simpler  habits,  and  yet  are  permitted  because  we  want  to 
bar  them  from  no  avenue  in  which  their  feet  are  fitted  to 
trend.  They  could  not  there  be  elected  orators  of  the 
white  universities,  as  they  have  been  here,  but  they  do 
enter  there  a  hundred  useful  trades  that  are  closed  against 
them  here.  We  hold  it  better  and  wiser  to  tend  the  weeds 
in  the  garden  than  to  water  the  exotic^n  the  window.  In 
the  South,  there  are  negro  lawyers,  teachers,  editors,  den- 
tists, doctors,  preachers,  multiplying  with  the  increasing 
ability  of  their  race  to  support  them.  In  villages  and 
towns  they  have  their  military  companies  equipped  from 
the  armories  of  the  State,  their  churches  and  societies  built 
and  supported  largely  by  their  neighbors.  What  is  the 
testimony  of  the  courts  ?  In  penal  legislation  we  have 
steadily  reduced  felonies  to  misdemeanors,  and  have  led 
the  world  in  mitigating  punishment  for  crime,  that  we 
might  save,  as  far  as  possible,  this  dependent  race  from  its 
own  weakness.  In  our  penitentiary  record  60  per  cent,  of  the 
prosecutors  are  negroes,  and  in  every  court  the  negro  crim- 
inal strikes  the  colored  juror,  that  white  men  may  judge 
his  case.  In  the  North,  one  negro  in  every  1865  is  in 
jail — in  the  South  only  one  in  446.  In  the  North  the  per- 
centage of  negro  prisoners  is  six  times  as  great  as  native 
whites — in  the  South,  only  four  times  as  great.  If  preju- 
dice wrongs  him  in  southern  courts,  the  record  shows  it 
to  be  deeper  in  northern  courts. 

I  assert  here,  and  a  bar  as  intelligent  and  upright  as 
the  bar  of  Massachusetts  will  solemnly  indorse  my  asser- 
tion, that  in  the  southern  courts,  from  highest  to  lowest, 
pleading  for  life,  liberty  or  property,  the  negro  has  dis- 
tinct advantage  because  he  is  a  negro,  apt  to  be  over- 
reached, oppressed — and  that  this  advantage  reaches  from 
the  juror  in  making  his  verdict  to  the  judge  in  measuring 
his  sentence.  Now,  Mr.  President,  can  it  be  seriously 
nviiiitained  that  we  are  terrorizing  the  people  from,  whose 
willing  hands  come  every  year  $1,000,000,000  of  farm 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  189 

crops  ?  Or  have  robbed  a  people,  who  twenty-five  years 
from  unrewarded  slavery  have  amassed  in  one  State 
$20,000,000  of  property  ?  Or  that  we  intend  to  oppress  the 
people  we  are  arming  every  day  ?  Or  deceive  them  when 
we  are  educating  them  to  the  utmost  limit  of  our  ability  ? 
Or  outlaw  them  when  we  work  side  by  side  with  them  ? 
Or  re-enslave  them  under  legal  forms  when  for  their  bene- 
fit we  have  even  imprudently  narrowed  the  limit  of  felonies 
and  mitigated  the  severity  of  law  ?  My  fellow  country- 
man, as  you  yourself  may  sometimes  have  to  appeal  to  the 
bar  of  human  judgment  for  justice  and  for  right,  give  to 
my  people  to-night  the  fair  and  unanswerable  conclusion  of 
these  incontestible  facts. 

But  it  is  claimed  that  under  this  fair  seeming  there  is 
disorder  and  violence.  This  I  admit.  And  there  will  be 
until  there  is  one  ideal  community  on  earth  after  which 
we  may  pattern.  But  ho'w  widely  it  is  misjudged  !  It  is 
hard  to  measure  with  exactness  whatever  touches  the 
negro.  His  helplessness,  his  isolation,  his  century  of  ser- 
vitude, these  dispose  us  to  emphasize  and  magnify  his 
wrongs.  This  disposition,  inflamed  by  prejudice  and  par- 
tisanry,  has  led  to  injustice  and  delusion.  Lawless  men 
may  ravage  a  county  in  Iowa  and  it  is  accepted  as  an  inci- 
dent— in  the  South  a  drunken  row  is  declared  to  be  the 
fixed  habit  of  the  community.  Regulators  may  whip  vag- 
abonds in  Indiana  by  platoons,  and  it  scarcely  arrests 
attention — a  chance  collision  in  the  South  among  relatively 
the  same  classes  is  gravely  accepted  as  evidence  that  one 
race  is  destroying  the  other.  We  might  as  well  claim  that 
the  Union  was  ungrateful  to  the  colored  soldiers  who  fol- 
lowed its  flag,  because  a  Grand  Army  post  in  Connecticut 
closed  its  doors  to  a  negro  veteran,  as  for  you  to  give  racial 
significance  to  every  incident  in  the  South,  or  to  accept 
exceptional  grounds  as  the  rule  of  our  society.  I  am  not 
one  of  those  who  becloud  American  honor  with  the  parade 
of  the  outrages  of  either  section,  and  belie  American  char- 
acter by  declaring  them  to  be  significant  and  representa- 
tive. I  prefer  to  maintain  that  they  are  neither,  and  stand 


11)0  lll-.MJY     \V.    (iKADT, 

for  no  tiling  but  the  passion  and  the  sin  of  our  poor  fallen 
humanity.  If  society,  like  a  machine,  were  no  stronger 
than  its  weakest  part,  1  should  despair  of  both  sections. 
IJut,  knowing  that  society,  sentient  and  responsible  in 
•-very  fibre,  can  mend  and  repair  until  the  whole  lias  the 
strength  of  the  best,  I  despair  of  neither.  These  gentle- 
men who  come  with  me  here,  knit  into  Georgia's  busy  life 
as  they  are,  never  saw,  I  dare  assert,  an  outrage  commit  ted 
on  a  negro  !  And  if  they  did,  not  one  of  you  would  be 
swifter  to  prevent  or  punish.  It  is  through  them,  and  the 
men  who  think  with  them — making  nine-tenths  of  every 
southern  community — that  these  two  races  have  been  car- 
ried thus  far  with  less  of  violence  than  would  have  been 
possible  anywhere  else  on  earth.  And  in  their  fairness 
and  courage  and  steadfastness — more  than  in  all  the  laws 
that  can  be  passed  or  all  the  bayonets  that  can  be  mus- 
tered— is  the  hope  of  our  future. 

When  will  the  black  cast  a  free  ballot  ?  When  igno- 
rance anywhere  is  not  dominated  by  the  will  of  the  intelli- 
gent ;  when  the  laborer  anywhere  casts  a  vote  unhindered 
by  his  boss  ;  when  the  vote  of  the  poor  anywhere  is  not 
influenced  by  the  power  of  the  rich  ;  when  the  strong  and 
the  steadfast  do  not  everywhere  control  the  suffrage  of  the 
weak  and  shiftless — then  and  not  till  then  will  the  ballot  of 
the  negro  be  free.  The  white  people  of  the  South  are 
banded,  Mr.  President,  not  in  prejudice  against  the 
1  darks — not  in  sectional  estrangement,  not  in  the  hope  of 
political  dominion— but  in  a  deep  and  abiding  necessity. 
Here  is  this  vast  ignorant  and  purchasable  vote — clannish, 
credulous,  impulsive  and  passionate — tempting  every  art 
of  the  demagogue,  but  insensible  to  the  appeal  of  the 
statesman.  Wrongly  started,  in  that  it  was  led  into  aliena- 
tion from  its  neighbor  and  taught  to  rely  on  the  protection 
of  an  outside  force,  it  cannot  be  merged  and  lost  in  the 
two  great  parties  through  logical  currents,  for  it  lacks 
political  conviction  and  even  that  information  on  which 
conviction  must  be  based.  It  must  remain  a  faction- 
strong  enough  in  every  community  to  control  on  the  slight- 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    ANI>    Sl'EKOJI  l-:s.  191 

est  division  of  the  whites.  Under  that  division  it  becomes 
the  prey  of  the  cunning  and  unscrupulous  of  both  parties. 
Its  credulity  is  imposed  on,  its  patience  inflamed,  its 
cupidity  tempted,  its  impulses  misdirected — and  even  its 
superstition  made  to  play  its  part  in  a  campaign  in  which 
every  interest  of  society  is  jeopardized  and  every  approach 
to  the  ballot-box  debauched.  It  is  against  such  campaigns 
as  this — the  folly  and  the  bitterness  and  the  danger  of 
which  every  southern  community  has  drunk  deeply — that 
the  white  people  of  the  South  are  banded  together.  Just 
as  you  in  Massachusetts  would  be  banded  if  300,000  black 
men,  not  one  in  a  hundred  able  to  read  his  ballot — banded 
in  race  instinct,  holding  against  you  the  memory  of  a 
century  of  slavery,  taught  by  your  late  conquerors  to  dis- 
trust and  oppose  you,  had  already  travestied  legislation 
from  your  statehouse,  and  in  every  species  of  folly  or 
villainy  had  wasted  your  substance  and  exhausted  your 
credit. 

But  admitting  the  right  of  the  whites  to  unite  against 
this  tremendous  menace,  we  are  challenged  with  the  small- 
ness  of  our  vote.  This  has  long  been  flippantly  charged  to 
be  evidence,  and  has  now  been  solemnly  and  officially 
declared  to  be  proof  of  political  turpitude  and  baseness  on 
our  part.  Let  us  see.  Virginia — a  State  now  under  fierce 
assault  for  this  alleged  crime — cast  in  1888  75  per  cent,  of 
her  vote.  Massachusetts,  the  State  in  which  I  speak,  60 
per  cent,  of  her  vote.  Was  it  suppression  in  Virginia  and 
natural  causes  in  Massachusetts  ?  Last  month  Virginia 
cast  69  per  cent,  of  her  vote,  and  Massachusetts,  fighting  in 
every  district,  cast  only  49  per  cent,  of  hers.  If  Virginia 
is  condemned  because  31  per  cent,  of  her  vote  was  silent, 
how  shall  this  State  escape  in  which  51  per  cent,  was 
dumb  ?  Let  us  enlarge  this  comparison.  The  sixteen 
southern  States  in  1888  cast  67  per  cent,  of  their  total  vote — 
the  six  New  England  States  but  63  per  cent,  of  theirs.  By 
what  fair  rule  shall  the  stigma  be  put  upon  one  section, 
while  the  other  escapes?  A  congressional  election  in  New 
York  last  week,  with  the  polling-place  in  touch  of  every 


\v. 

voter,  brought  out  only  6000  votes  of  28,000 — and  the  lack 
of  opposition  is  assigned  as  the  natural  cause.  In  a  dis- 
trict in  my  State,  in  which  an  opposition  speech  has  not 
been  heard  in  ten  years,  and  the  polling-places  are  miles 
apart— under  the  unfair  reasoning  of  which  my  section  has 
been  a  constant  victim — the  small  vote  is  charged  to  be 
proof  of  forcible  suppression.  In  Virginia  an  average 
majority  of  10,000,  under  hopeless  division  of  the  minority, 
was  raised  to  42,000;  in  Iowa,  in  the  same  election,  a 
majority  of  32,000  was  wiped  out,  and  an  opposition  ma- 
jority of  8000  was  established.  The  change  of  42,000  votes 
in  Iowa  is  accepted  as  political  revolution — in  Virginia  an 
increase  of  30,000  on  a  safe  majority  is  declared  to  be  proof 
of  political  fraud.  I  charge  these  facts  and  figures  home, 
sir,  to  the  heart  and  conscience  of  the  American  people, 
who  will  not  assuredly  see  one  section  condemned  for  what 
another  section  is  excused  ! 

If  I  can  drive  them  through  the  prejudice  of  the  parti- 
san, and  have  them  read  and  pondered  at  the  fireside  of 
the  citizen,  I  will  rest  on  the  judgment  there  formed  and 
the  verdict  there  rendered  ! 

It  is  deplorable,  sir,  that  in  both  sections  a  larger  per- 
centage of  the  vote  is  not  regularly  cast, but  more  inexplic- 
able that  this  should  be  so  in  New  England  than  in  the 
South.  What  invites  the  negro  to  the  ballot-box  ?  He 
knows  that,  of  all  men,  it  has  promised  him  most  and 
yielded  him  least.  His  first  appeal  to  suffrage  was  the 
promise  of  "forty  acres  and  a  mule."  His  second,  the 
threat  that  Democratic  success  meant  his  re-inslavement. 
Both  have  proved  false  in  his  experience.  He  looked  for 
a  home,  and  he  got  the  freedman's  bank.  He  fought  under 
the  promise  of  the  loaf,  and  in  victory  was  denied  the 
crumbs.  Discouraged  and  deceived,  he  has  realized  at  last 
that  his  best  friends  are  his  neighbors,  with  whom  his  lot  is 
cast,  and  whose  prosperity  is  bound  up  in  his— and  that  he 
has  gained  nothing  in  politics  to  compensate  the  loss  of 
their  confidence  and  sympathy  that  is  at  last  his  best  and  his 
enduring  hope.  And  so,  without  leaders  or  organization — 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  .193 

and  lacking  the  resolute  heroism  of  my  party  friends  in 
Vermont  that  makes  their  hopeless  march  over  the  hills  a 
high  and  inspiring  pilgrimage — he  shrewdly  measures  the 
occasional  agitator,  balances  his  little  account  with  politics, 
touches  up  his  mule  and  jegs  down  the  furrow,  letting  the 
mad  world  jog  as  it  will ! 

The  negro  vote  can  never  control  in  the  South,  and  it 
would  be  well  if  partisans  in  the  North  would  understand 
this.  I  have  seen  the  white  people  of  a  State  set  about  by 
black  hosts  until  their  fate  seemed  sealed.  But,  sir,  some 
brave  man,  banding  them  together,  would  rise,  as  Elisha 
rose  in  beleaguered  Samaria,  and  touching  their  eyes  with 
faith,  bid  them  look  abroad  to  see  the  very  air  "  filled  with 
the  chariots  of  Israel  and  the  horsemen  thereof."  If  there 
is  any  human  force  that  cannot  be  withstood,  it  is  the 
power  of  the  banded  intelligence  and  responsibility  of  a 
free  community.  Against  it,  numbers  and  corruption  can- 
not prevail.  It  cannot  be  forbidden  in  the  law  or  divorced 
in  force.  It  is  the  inalienable  right  of  every  free  commu- 
nity— and  the  just  and  righteous  safeguard  against  an  igno- 
rant or  corrupt  suffrage.  It  is  on  this,  sir,  that  we  rely  in 
the  South.  Not  the  cowardly  menace  of  mask  or  shotgun  ; 
but  the  peaceful  majesty  of  intelligence  and  responsibility, 
massed  and  unified  for  the  protection  of  its  homes  and  the 
preservation  of  its  liberty.  That,  sir,  is  our  reliance  and 
our  hope,  and  against  it  all  the  powers  of  the  earth  shall 
not  prevail.  It  was  just  as  certain  that  Virginia  would 
come  back  to  the  unchallenged  control  of  her  white  race — 
that  before  the  moral  and  material  power  of  her  people  once 
more  unified,  opposition  would  crumble  until  its  last  des- 
perate leader  was  left  alone  vainly  striving  to  rally  his  dis- 
ordered hosts — as  that  night  should  fade  in  the  kindling 
glory  of  the  sun.  You  may  pass  force  bills,  but  they 
will  not  avail.  You  may  surrender  your  own  liberties  to 
Federal  election  law,  you  may  submit,  in  fear  of  a  necessity 
that  does  not  exist,  that  the  very  form  of  this  government 
may  be  changed — this  old  State  that  holds  in  its  charter 
the  boast  that  "it  is  a  free  and  independent  common- 


1<J4  IIKXUY    W.    GRADY, 

wealth"— it  may  deliver  its  election  machinery  into  the 
hands  of  the  government  it  helped  to  create — but  never, 
sir,  will  a  single  State  of  this  Union,  North  or  South,  In- 
delivered  again  to  the  control  of  an  ignorant  and  inferior 
race.  We  wrested  our  State  government  from  negro  su- 
premacy when  the  Federal  drumbeat  rolled  closer  to  the 
ballot-box  and  Federal  bayonets  hedged  it  deeper  about, 
than  will  over1  again  be  permitted  in  this  free  government. 
I  Jut,  sir,  though  the  cannon  of  this  Republic  thundered  in 
every  voting  district  of  the  South,  we  still  should  find  in 
the  mercy  of  God  the  means  and  the  courage  to  prevent  its 
re-establishment ! 

I  regret,  sir,  that  my  section,  hindered  with  this  prob- 
lem, stands  in  seeming  estrangement  to  the  North.  If,  sir, 
any  man  will  point  out  to  me  a  path  down  which  the  white 
people  of  the  South  divided  may  walk  in  peace  and  honor, 
I  will  take  that  path  though  I  took  it  alone — for  at  the 
end,  and  nowhere  else,  I  fear,  is  to  be  found  the  full  pros- 
perity of  my  section  and  the  full  restoration  of  this  Union. 
But,  sir,  if  the  negro  had  not  been  enfranchised,  the  South 
would  have  been  divided  and  the  Republic  united.  His 
enfranchisement — against  which  I  enter  no  protest — holds 
the  South  united  and  compact.  What  solution,  then,  can 
we  offer  for  the  problem?  Time  alone  can  disclose  it  to 
us.  We  simply  report  progress  and  ask  your  patience. 
If  the  problem  be  solved  at  all — and  I  firmly  believe  it  will, 
though  nowhere  else  has  it  been — it  will  be  solved  by  the 
people  most  deeply  bound  in  interest,  most  deeply  pledged 
in  honor  to  its  solution.  I  had  rather  see  my  people  ren- 
der back  this  question  lightly  solved  than  to  see  them 
gather  all  the  spoils  over  which  faction  has  contended  since 
Catiline  conspired  and  Caesar  fought.  Meantime  we  treat 
the  negro  fairly,  measuring  to  him  justice  in  the  fulhi'  -s 
the  strong  should  give  to  the  weak,  and  leading  him  in  the 
steadfast  ways  of  citizenship  that  he  may  no  longer  be  the 
prey  of  the  unscrupulous  and  the  sport  of  the  thoughtless. 
We  open  to  him  every  pursuit  in  which  he  can  prosper,  and 
seek  to  broaden  his  training  and  capacity.  We  seek  to 


HIS   LIFE,    WKITINOS,    AND  SPEECHES.  195 

hold  his  confidence  and  friendship,  and  to  pin  him  to  the 
soil  with  ownership,  that  he  may  catch  in  the  fire  of  his 
own  hearthstone  that  sense  of  responsibility  the  shiftless 
can  never  know.  And  we  gather  him  into  that  alliance  of 
intelligence  and  responsibility  that,  though  it  now  runs 
close  to  racial  lines,  welcomes  the  responsible  and  intelli- 
gent of  any  race.  By  this  course,  confirmed  in  our  judg- 
ment and  justified  in  the  progress  already  made,  we  hope 
to  progress  slowly  but  surely  to  the  end. 

The  love  we  feel  for  that  race  you  cannot  measure  nor 
comprehend.  As  I  attest  it  here,  the  spirit  of  my  old  black 
mammy  from  her  home  up  there  looks  down  to  bless,  and 
through  the  tumult  of  this  night  steals  the  sweet  music  of 
her  croonings  as  thirty  years  ago  she  held  me  in  her  black 
arms  and  led  me  smiling  into  sleep.  This  scene  vanishes 
as  I  speak,  and  I  catch  a  vision  of  an  old  Southern  home, 
with  its  lofty  pillars,  and  its  white  pigeons  fluttering  down 
through  the  golden  air.  I  see  women  with  strained  and 
anxious  faces,  and  children  alert  yet  helpless.  I  see  night 
come  down  with  its  dangers  and  its  apprehensions,  and  in 
a  big  homely  room  I  feel  on  my  tired  head  the  touch  of 
loving  hands — now  worn  and  wrinkled,  but  fairer  to  me  yet 
than  the  hands  of  mortal  woman,  and  stronger  yet  to  lead 
me  than  the  hands  of  mortal  man — as  they  lay  a  mother's 
blessing  there  while  at  her  knees — the  truest  altar  I  yet 
have  found — I  thank  God  that  she  is  safe  in  her  sanctuary, 
because  her  slaves,  sentinel  in  the  silent  cabin  or  guard  at 
her  chamber  door,  puts  a  black  man' s  loyalty  between  her 
and  danger. 

I  catch  another  vision.  The  crisis  of  battle — a  soldier 
struck,  staggering,  fallen.  I  see  a  slave,  scuffling  through 
the  smoke,  winding  his  black  arms  about  the  fallen  form, 
reckless  of  the  hurtling  death — bending  his  trusty  face  to 
catch  the  words  that  tremble  on  the  stricken  lips,  so  wrest- 
ling meantime  with  agony  that  he  would  lay  down  his  life 
in  his  master's  stead.  I  see  him  by  the  weary  bedside, 
ministering  with  uncomplaining  patience,  praying  with  all 
his  humble  heart  that  God  will  lift  his  master  up,  until 


196  HKNKY    W.    GRADY, 

death  comes  in  mercy  and  in  honor  to  still  the  soldier's 
a.n'oiiy  and  seal  the  soldier's  life.  I  see  him  by  the  open 
grave,  mute,  motionless,  uncovered,  suffering  for  the  death 
<>!'  him  who  in  life  fought  against  his  freedom.  I  see  him 
when  the  mound  is  heaped  and  the  great  drama  of  his  life 
is  closed,  turn  away  and  with  downcast  eyes  and  uncertain 
step  start  out  into  new  and  strange  fields,  faltering,  strug- 
gling, but  moving  on,  until  his  shambling  figure  is  lost  in 
the  light  of  this  better  and  brighter  day.  And  from  the 
grave  comes  a  voice  saying:  "Follow  him!  Put  your 
arms  about  him  in  his  need,  even  as  he  puts  his  about  me. 
Be  his  friend  as  he  was  mine."  And  out  into  this  new 
world — strange  to  me  as  to  him,  dazzling,  bewildering 
both — I  follow  !  And  may  God  forget  my  people — when 
they  forget  these  ! 

Whatever  the  future  may  hold  for  them — whether  they 
plod  along  in  the  servitude  from  which  they  have  never 
been  lifted  since  the  Cyrenian  was  laid  hold  upon  by 
the  Roman  soldiers  and  made  to  bear  the  cross  of  the  faint- 
ing Christ — whether  they  find  homes  again  in  Africa,  and 
thus  hasten  the  prophecy  of  the  psalmist  who  said :  "And 
suddenly  Ethiopia  shall  hold  out  her  hands  unto  God" 
whether,  forever  dislocated  and  separated,  they  remain  a 
weak  people  beset  by  stronger,  and  exist  as  the  Turk, 
who  lives  in  the  jealousy  rather  than  in  the  conscience  of 
Europe — or  whether  in  this  miraculous  Republic  they 
break  through  the  caste  of  twenty  centuries  and,  belying 
universal  history,  reach  the  full  stature  of  citizenship,  and 
in  peace  maintain  it — we  shall  give  them  uttermost  justice 
and  abiding  friendship.  And  whatever  we  do,  into  what- 
ever seeming  estrangement  we  may  be  driven,  nothing  shall 
disturb  the  love  we  bear  this  Republic,  or  mitigate  our  con- 
secration to  its  service.  I  stand  here,  Mr.  President,  to 
profess  no  new  loyalty.  When  General  Lee,  whose  heart 
was  the  temple  of  our  hopes  and  whose  arm  was  clothed 
with  our  strength,  renewed  his  allegiance  to  the  govern- 
ment of  Appomattox,  he  spoke  from  a  heart  too  great  to 
be  false,  and  he  spoke  for  every  honest  man  from  Mary- 


HIS    LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  197 

land  to  Texas.  From  that  day  to  this,  Hamilcar  has 
nowhere  in  the  South  sworn  young  Hannibal  to  hatred  and 
vengeance — but  everywhere  to  loyalty  and  to  love.  Wit- 
ness the  soldier  standing  at  the  base  of  a  Confederate  mon- 
ument above  the  graves  of  his  comrades,  his  empty  sleeve 
tossing  in  the  April  wind,  adjuring  the  young  men  about 
him,  to  serve  as  honest  and  loyal  citizens  the  government 
against  which  their  fathers  fought.  This  message,  deliv- 
ered from  that  sacred  presence,  has  gone  home  to  the 
hearts  of  my  fellows !  And,  sir,  I  declare  here,  if  physi- 
cal courage  be  always  equal  to  human  aspiration,  that 
they  would  die,  sir,  if  need  be,  to  restore  this  Republic 
their  fathers  fought  to  dissolve  ! 

Such,  Mr.  President,  is  this  problem  as  we  see  it ;  such 
is  the  temper  in  which  we  approach  it :  such  the  progress 
made.  What  do  we  ask  of  you  ?  First,  patience  ;  out  of 
this  alone  can  come  perfect  work.  Second,  confidence  ;  in 
this  alone  can  you  judge  fairly.  Third,  sympathy  ;  in  this 
you  can  help  us  best.  Fourth,  give  us  your  sons  as  host- 
ages. When  you  plant  your  capital  in  millions,  send  your 
sons  that  they  may  help  know  how  true  are  our  hearts  and 
may  help  to  swell  the  Anglo-Saxon  current  until  it  can 
carry  without  danger  this  black  infusion.  Fifth,  loyalty 
to  the  Republic — for  there  is  sectionalism  in  loyalty  as  in 
estrangement.  This  hour  little  needs  the  loyalty  that  is 
loyal  to  one  section  and  yet  holds  the  other  in  enduring 
suspicion  and  estrangement.  Give  us  the  broad  and  per- 
fect loyalty  that  loves  and  trusts  Georgia  alike  with  Mass- 
achusetts— that  knows  no  south,  no  north,  no  east,  no  west ; 
but  endears  with  equal  and  patriotic  love  every  foot  of  our 
soil,  every  State  in  our  Union. 

A  mighty  duty,  sir,  and  a  mighty  inspiration  impels 
every  one  of  us  to-night  to  lose  in  patriotic  consecration 
whatever  estranges,  whatever  divides.  We,  sir,  are  Ameri- 
cans— and  we  fight  for  human  liberty.  The  uplifting  force 
of  the  American  idea  is  under  every  throne  on  earth. 
France,  Brazil — these  are  our  victories.  To  redeem  the 
earth  from  kingcraft  and  oppression — this  is  our  mission. 


198  HKXKV    \v.   <;I:ADV, 

And  we  shall  not  fail.  God  has  sown  in  our  soil  the  seed 
of  his  millennial  harvest,  and  he  will  not  lay  the  sickle  to 
the  rii»'iiinu-  crop  until  his  full  and  perfect  day  has  come. 
Our  history,  sir,  has  been  a  constant  and  expanding 
miracle  from  Plymouth  Rock  and  Jamestown  all  the  way- 
aye,  even  from  the  hour  when,  from  the  voiceless  and  track- 
less ocean,  a  new  world  rose  to  the  sight  of  the  inspired 
sailor.  As  we  approach  the  fourth  centennial  of  that  stu- 
pendous day — when  the  old  world  will  come  to  marvel  and 
to  learn,  amid  our  gathered  treasures — let  us  resolve  to 
crown  the  miracles  of  our  past  with  the  spectacle  of  a 
Republic  compact,  united,  indissoluble  in  the  bonds  of 
love — loving  from  the  lakes  to  the  Gulf — the  wounds  of 
war  healed  in  every  heart  as  on  every  hill — serene  and 
resplendent  at  the  summit  of  human  achievement  and 
earthly  glory — blazing  out  the  path,  and  making  clear  the 
way  up  which  all  the  nations  of  the  earth  must  come  in 
God's  appointed  time ! 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  199 


BEFORE  THE  BAY  STATE  CLUB. 


D 


URING  MR.  GRADY'S  VISIT  TO  BOSTON,  IN  1889,  HE 
WAS   A   GUEST   OF  THE  BAY  STATE  CLUB,  BEFORE 
HE  DELIVERED  THE  FOLLOWING  SPEECH  : 


MR.  PRESIDENT  AND  GENTLEMEN  :  I  am  confident  you 
will  not  expect  a  speech  from  me  this  afternoon,  especially 
as  my  voice  is  in  such  a  condition  that  I  can  hardly  talk. 
I  am  free  to  say  that  it  is  not  a  lack  of  ability  to  talk,  be- 
cause I  am  a  talker  by  inheritance.  My  father  was  an 
Irishman,  my  mother  was  a  woman  ;  both  talked.  I  came 
by  it  honestly. 

I  don't  know  how  I  could  take  up  any  discussion  here 
or  any  topic  apart  from  the  incidents  of  the  past  two  days. 
I  saw  this  morning  Plymouth  Rock.  I  was  pulled  up  on 
top  of  it  and  waS  told  to  make  a  speech. 

It  reminded  me  of  an  old  friend  of  mind,  Judge  Dooley. 
of  Georgia,  who  was  a  very  provoking  fello\v  and  was 
always  getting  challenged  to  duels,  and  never  fighting 
them.  He  always  got  out  of  it  by  being  smarter  than  the 
other  fellow.  One  day  he  went  out  to  fight  a  man  with  one 
leg,  and  he  insisted  on  bringing  along  a  bee  gum  and  stick- 
ing one  leg  into  it  so  that  he  would  have  no  more  flesh  ex- 
posed than  his  antagonist.  On  the  occasion  I  am  thinking 
of,  however,  he  went  out  to  fight  with  a  man  who  had  St. 
Vitus's  dance,  and  the  fellow  stood  before  him  holding  the 
pistol  cocked  and  primed,  his  hand  shaking.  The  judge 


IIKMIY   w.  <;K.\DV, 

went  quietly  and  got  a  forked  stick  and  stuck  it  up  in 
front  of  lii in. 

"  What's  that  for  ?  "  said  the  man. 

"I  want  you  to  shoot  with  a  rest,  so  that  if  you  hit  me 
you  will  bore  only  one  hole.  If  you  shoot  that  way  you 
will  lill  me  full  of  holes  with  one  shot." 

I  was  reminded  of  that  and  forced  to  tell  my  friends 
that  I  could  not  think  of  .speaking  on  top  of  Plymouth  Hock 
without  a  rest. 

But  I  said  this,  and  I  want  to  say  it  here  again,  for  I 
never  knew  how  true  it  was  till  I  had  heard  myself  say 
it  and  had  taken  the  evidence  of  my  voice,  as  well  as  my 
thoughts — that  there  is  no  spot  on  earth  that  I  had  rather 
have  seen  than  that.  I  have  a  boy  who  is  the  pride  and 
the  promise  of  my  life,  and  God  knows  I  want  him  to  be  a 
good  citizen  and  a  good  man,  and  there  is  no  spot  in  all 
this  broad  Republic  nor  in  all  this  world  where  I  had  rather 
have  him  stand  to  learn  the  lessons  of  right  citizenship,  of 
individual  liberty,  of  fortitude  and  heroism  and  justice, 
than  the  spot  on  which  I  stood  this  morning,  reverent  and 
uncovered. 

Now,  I  do  not  intend  to  make  a  political  speech, 
although  when  Mr.  Cleveland  expressed  some  surprise  at 
seeing  me  here,  I  said  :  "Why,  I  am  at.  home  now  ;  I  was 
out  visiting  last  night."  I  was  visiting  mighty  clever 
folks,  but  still  I  was  visiting.  Now  I  am  at  home. 

It  is  the  glory  and  the  promise  of  Democracy,  it  seems  to 
me,  that  its  success  means  more  than  partisanry  can 
mean.  I  have  been  told  that  what  I  said  helped  the  Demo- 
cratic party  in  this  State.  Well,  the  chief  joy  that  I  feel 
at  that,  and  that  you  feel,  is  that,  beyond  that  and  above 
it,  it  helped  those  larger  interests  of  the  Republic,  and 
those  essential  interests  of  humanity  that  for  seventy  years 
the  Democratic  party  has  stood  for,  being  the  guarantor 
and  the  defender. 

JN'o\v.  Mr.  Cleveland  last  night  made — I  trust  this  will 
not  get  into  the  papers — one  of  the  best  Democratic 
speeches  I  ever  heard  in  my  life,  and  yet  all  around  sat 


HIS    LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  201 

Republicans  cheering  him  to  the  echo.  It  was  just  simply 
because  he  pitched  his  speech  on  a  high  key,  and  because 
he  said  things  that  no  man,  no  matter  how  partisan  he 
was,  could  gainsay. 

Now  it  seems  to  me  we  do  not  care  much  for  political 
success  in  the  South — for  a  simple  question  of  spoils  or  of 
patronage.  We  wanted  to  see  one  Democratic  administra- 
tion since  General  Lee  surrendered  at  Appomattox,  just  to 
prove  to  the  people  of  this  world  that  the  South  was  not 
the  wrong-headed  and  impulsive  and  passionate  section 
she  was  represented  to  be.  I  heard  last  night  from  Mr. 
Cleveland,  our  great  leader,  as  he  sat  by  me,  that  he  held 
to  be  the  miracle  of  modern  history  the  conservatism  and 
the  temperance  and  the  quiet  with  which  the  South 
accepted  his  election,  and  the  few  office-seekers  in  compari- 
son that  came  from  that  section  to  besiege  and  importune 
him. 

Now  it  seems  to  me  that  the  struggle  in  this  country, 
the  great  fight,  the  roar  and  din  of  which  we  already  hear, 
is  a  fight  against  the  consolidation  of  power,  the  concen- 
tration of  capital,  the  diminution  of  local  sovereignty  and 
the  dwarfing  of  the  individual  citizen.  Boston  is  the  home 
of  the  one  section  of  a  nationalist  party  that  claims  that 
the  remedy  for  all  our  troubles,  the  way  in  which  Dives, 
who  sits  inside  the  gate,  shall  be  controlled,  and  the  poor 
Lazarus  who  sits  outside  shall  be  lifted  up,  is  for  the  gov- 
ernment to  usurp  the  functions  of  the  citizen  and  take 
charge  of  all  his  affairs.  It  is  the  Democratic  doctrine  that 
the  citizen  is  the  master  and  that  the  best  guarantee  of  this 
government  is  not  garnered  powers  at  the  capital,  but  dif- 
fused, intelligence  and  liberty  among  the  people. 

My  friend,  General  Collins — who,  by  the  way,  captured 
my  whole  State  and  absolutely  conjured  the  ladies — when 
he  came  down  there  talked  about  this  to  us,  and  he  gave 
us  a  train  of  thought  that  we  have  improved  to  advantage. 

It  is  the  pride,  I  believe,  of  the  South,  with  her  simple 
faith  and  her  homogeneous  people,  that  we  elevate  there 
the  citizen  above  the  party,  and  the  citizen  above  every- 


III  M:Y     \V.    CKADT, 

tiling.  \Vf  tf.-ich  :i  ni;m  that  his  best  guide  at  least  is  his 
«>\\ii  rmiM'ifiirr,  that  his  sovereignty  rests  beneath  liis  hat, 
that  his  own  right  arm  and  his  own  stout  In-art  am  his  best 
dependence  ;  that  he  should  rely  on  his  State  for  nothing 
that  he  can  do  for  himself,  and  on  his  government  for 
nothing  that  his  State  can  do  for  him  ;  but  that  In-  .should 
stand  upright  and  self-respecting,  dowering  his  family  in 
the  sweat  of  his  brow,  loving  to  his  State,  loyal  to  his 
Republic,  earnest  in  his  allegiance  wherever  it  rests,  but 
building  at  last  his  altars  above  his  own  hearthstone,  and 
shrining  his  own  liberty  in  his  own  heart.  That  is  a  senti- 
ment that  I  would  not  have  been  afraid  to  avow  last  night. 
And  yet  it  is  mighty  good  democratic  doctrine,  too. 

I  went  to  Washington  the  other  day  and  I  stood  on  1 1n- 
Capitol  hill,  and  my  heart  beat  quick  as  I  looked  at  the 
towering  marble  of  my  country's  Capitol,  and  a  mist  gath- 
ered in  my  eyes  as  I  thought  of  its  tremendous  significance, 
of  the  armies  and  the  treasury,  and  the  judges  and  the 
President,  and  the  Congress  and  the  courts,  and  all  that 
was  gathered  there  ;  and  I  felt  that  the  sun  in  all  its 
course  could  not  look  down  on  a  better  sight  than  that 
majestic  home  of  a  Republic  that  had  taught  the  world  its 
best  lessons  of  liberty.  And  I  felt  that  if  honor  and  wis- 
dom and  justice  abided  therein,  the  world  would  at  last 
owe  that  great  house  in  which  the  ark  of  the  covenant  of 
my  country  is  lodged  its  final  uplifting  and  its  regenera- 
tion. 

But  a  few  $ays  afterwards  I  went  to  visit  a  friend  in  the 
country,  a  modest  man,  with  a  quiet  country  home.  It 
was  just  a  simple,  unpretentious  house,  set  about  with 
great  trees  and  encircled  in  meadow  and  field  rich  with  the 
promise  of  harvest ;  the  fragrance  of  the  pink  and  the 
hollyhock  in  the  front  yard  was  mingled  with  the  aroma 
of  the  orchard  and  the  garden,  and  the  resonant  clucking 
of  poultry  and  the  hum  of  bees.  Inside  was  quiet,  cleanli- 
ness, thrift  and  comfort. 

Outside  there  stood  my  friend,  the  master — a  simph-. 
independent,  upright  man,  with  no  mortgage  on  his  roof, 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  203 

no  lien  on  his  growing  crops — master  of  his  land  and 
master  of  himself.  There  was  his  old  father,  an  aged  and 
trembling  man,  but  happy  in  the  heart  and  home  of  his  son. 
And,  as  he  started  to  enter  his  home,  the  hand  of  the  old 
man  went  down  on  the  young  man's  shoulder,  laying 
there  the  unspeakable  blessing  of  an  honored  and  honor- 
able father,  and  ennobling  it  with  the  knighthood  of  the 
fifth  commandment.  And  as  we  approached  the  door  the 
mother  came,  a  happy  smile  lighting  up  her  face,  while 
with  the  rich  music  of  her  heart  she  bade  her  husband  and 
her  son  welcome  to  their  home.  Beyond  was  the  house- 
wife, busy  with  her  domestic  affairs,  the  loving  helpmate 
of  her  husband.  Down  the  lane  came  the  children  after 
the  cows,  singing  sweetly,  as  like  birds  they  sought  the 
quiet  of  their  nest. 

So  the  night  came  down  on  that  house,  falling  gently 
as  the  wing  from  an  unseen  dove.  And  the  old  man,  while 
a  startled  bird  called  from  the  forest  and  the  trees  thrilled 
with  the  cricket's  cry,  and  the  stars  were  falling  from  the 
sky,  called  the  family  around  him  and  took  the  Bible  from 
the  table  and  called  them  to  their  knees.  The  little  baby 
hid  in  the  folds  of  its  mother's  dress  while  he  closed  the 
record  of  that  day  by  calling  down  God's  blessing  on  that 
simple  home.  While  I  gazed,  the  vision  of  the  marble 
Capitol  faded ;  forgotten  were  its  treasuries  and  its  majesty; 
and  I  said  :  "  Surely  here  in  the  homes  of  the  people  lodge 
at  last  the  strength  and  the  responsibility  of  this  govern- 
ment, the  hope  and  the  promise  of  this  Republic." 

My  friends,  that  is  the  democracy  in  the  South  ;  that  is 
the  democratic  doctrine  we  preach  ;  a  doctrine,  sir,  that  is 
writ  above  our  hearthstones.  We  aim  to  make  our  homes, 
poor  as  they  are,  self-respecting  and  independent.  We  try 
to  make  them  temples  of  refinement,  in  which  our  daugh- 
ters may  learn  that  woman's  best  charm  and  strength  is  her 
gentleness  and  her  grace,  and  temples  of  liberty  in  which 
our  sons  may  learn  that  no  power  can  justify  and  no  treas- 
ure repay  for  the  surrender  of  the  slightest  right  of  a  free 
individual  American  citizen. 


-.'"I  ii  I:\KY  w.  <;KADY, 

Now  you  do  not  know  how  we  love  you  Democrats. 
Had  w»-  better  print  that?  Yes,  we  do,  of  course  we  do. 
If  a  man  does  not  love  his  home  folk--,  who  should  h«>  lov«- ? 
\\V  know  how  gallant  a  light  you  have  made  here,  not 
as  hard  and  hopeless  as  our  friends  in  Vermont,  but 
still  an  up-hill  light.  You  have  been  doing  better,  much 
better. 

Now,  gentlemen,  I  have  some  mighty  good  Democrats 
here.  There  is  one  of  the  fattest  and  best  in  the  world 
sitting  right  over  there  [pointing  to  his  partner,  Mr. 
Howell]. 

You  want  to  know  about  the  South.  My  friends,  we 
representative  men  will  tell  you  about  it.  I  just  want  to 
say  that  we  have  had  a  hard  time  down  there. 

\Vh»-ii  my  partner  came  out  of  the  war  he  didn't  have 
any  breeches.  That  is  an  actual  truth.  Well,  his  witX 
one  of  the  best  women  that  ever  lived,  reared  in  the  lap 
of  luxury,  took  her  old  woolen  dress  that  she  had  worn 
during  the  war — and  it  had  been  a  garment  of  sorrow  and 
of  consecration  and  of  heroism — and  cut  it  up  and  made  a 
good  pair  of  breeches.  He  started  with  that  pair  of 
breeches  and  with  $5  in  gold  as  his  capital,  and  he  scraped 
up  boards  from  amid  the  ashes  of  his  home,  and  built  him 
a  shanty  of  which  love  made  a  home  and  which  courtesy 
made  hospitable.  And  now  I  believe  he  has  with  him  three 
pairs  of  breeches  and  several  pairs  at  home.  We  have 
prospered  down  there. 

I  attended  a  funeral  once  in  Pickens  county  in  my  State. 
A  funeral  is  not  usually  a  cheerful  object  to  me  unless  I 
could  select  the  subject.  I  think  I  could,  perhaps,  without 
going  a  hundred  miles  from  here,  find  the  material  for  one 
or  two  cheerful  funerals.  Still,  this  funeral  was  peculiarly 
sad.  It  was  a  poor  "one  gallus"  fellow,  whose  breeches 
struck  him  under  the  armpits  and  hit  him  at  the  other  end 
about  the  knee — he  didn't  believe  in  decollete  clothes. 
They  buried  him  in  the  midst  of  a  marble  quarry  :  they 
cut  through  solid  marble  to  make  his  grave  ;  and  yet  a 
little  tombstone  they  put  above  him  was  from  Vermont. 


HIS  LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  205 

They  buried  him  in  the  heart  of  a  pine  forest,  and  yet  the 
pine  coffin  was  imported  from  Cincinnati.  They  buried 
him  within  touch  of  an  iron  mine,  and  yet  the  nails  in  his 
coffin  and  the  iron  in  the  shovel  that  dug  his  grave  were 
imported  from  Pittsburg.  They  buried  him  by  the  side  of 
the  best  sheep-grazing  country  on  the  earth,  and  yet  the 
wool  in  the  coffin  bands  and  the  coffin  bands  themselves 
were  brought  from  the  North.  The  South  didn't  furnish  a 
thing  on  earth  for  that  funeral  but  the  corpse  and  the  hole 
in  the  ground.  There  they  put  him  away  and  the  clods  rat- 
tled down  on  his  coffin,  and  they  buried  him  in  a  New  York 
coat  and  a  Boston  pair  of  shoes  and  a  pair  of  breeches  from 
Chicago  and  a  shirt  from  Cincinnati,  leaving  him  nothing 
to  carry  into  the  next  world  with  him  to  remind  him  of  the 
country  in  which  he  lived,  and  for  which  he  fought  for  four 
years,  but  the  chill  of  blood  in  his  veins  and  the  marrow  in 
his  bones. 

Now  we  have  improved  on  that.  We  have  got  the  big- 
gest marble-cutting  establishment  on  earth  within  a  hun- 
dred yards  of  that  grave.  We  have  got  a  half-dozen 
woolen  mills  right  around  it,  and  iron  mines,  and  iron  fur- 
naces, and  iron  factories.  We  are  coming  to  meet  you. 
We  are  going  to  take  a  noble  revenge,  as  my  friend, 
Mr.  Carnegie,  said  last  night,  by  invading  every  inch  of 
your  territory  with  iron,  as  you  invaded  ours  twenty-nine 
years  ago. 

A  voice — I  want  to  know  if  the  tariff  built  up  these 
industries  down  there  ? 

Mr.  Grady — The  tariff?  Well,  to  be  perfectly  frank 
with  you,  I  think  it  helped  some  ;  but  you  can  bet  your 
bottom  dollar  that  we  are  Democrats  straight  through 
from  the  soles  of  our  feet  to  the  top  of  our  heads, 
and  Mr.  Cleveland  will  not  have  if  he  runs  again, 
which  I  am  inclined  to  think  he  ought  to  do,  a  stronger 
following. 

Now,  I  want  to  say  one  word  about  the  reception  we 
had  here.  It  has  been  a  constant  revelation  of  hospitality 
and  kindness  and  brotherhood  from  the  whole  people  of 


IIKNIIY    \V.    (iRADY, 

this  city  to  myself  and  my  friends.  It  has  touched  us 
beyond  measure. 

I  was  struck  with  one  tiling  last  night.  Every  speaker 
that  rose  expressed  his  confidence  in  the  future  and  lasting 
irlory  of  this  Republic.  There  may  be  men,  and  there  are, 
who  insist  on  getting  up  fratricidal  strife,  and  who  infa- 
mously fan  the  embers  of  war  that  they  may  raise  them 
attain  into  a  blaze.  But  just  as  certain  as  there  is  a  God 
in  the  heavens,  when  those  noisy  insects  of  the  hour  have 
perished  in  the  heat  that  gave  them  life,  and  their  pestilent 
tongues  have  ceased,  the  great  clock  of  this  Republic  will 
strike  the  slow-moving,  tranquil  hours,  and  the  watch- 
man from  the  street  will  cry,  " All  is  well  with  the 
Republic  ;  all  is  well.'' 

We  bring  to  you,  from  hearts  that  yearn  for  your  confi- 
dence and  for  your  love,  the  message  of  fellowship  from  our 
homes.  This  message  comes  from  consecrated  ground. 
The  fields  in  which  I  played  were  the  battlefields  of  this 
Republic,  hallowed  to  you  with  the  blood  of  your  soldiers 
who  died  in  victory,  and  doubly  sacred  to  us  with  the 
blood  of  ours  who  died  undaunted  in  defeat.  All  around 
my  home  are  set  the  hills  of  Kennesaw,  all  around  the 
mountains  and  hills  down  which  the  gray  flag  fluttered  to 
defeat,  and  through  which  American  soldiers  from  either 
side  charged  like  demigods ;  and  I  do  not  think  I  could 
bring  you  a  false  message  from  those  old  hills  and  those 
sacred  fields — witnesses  twenty  years  ago  in  their  red  deso- 
lation of  the  deathless  valor  of  American  arms  and  the 
quenchless  bravery  of  American  hearts,  and  in  their  white 
peace  and  tranquillity  to-day  of  the  imperishable  Union 
of  the  American  States  and  the  indestructible  brother- 
hood of  the  American  people. 

It  is  likely  that  I  will  not  again  see  Bostonians  assem- 
bled together.  I  therefore  want  to  take  this  occasion  to 
thank  you,  and  my  excellent  friends  of  last  night  and  those 
friends  who  accompanied  us  this  morning  for  all  that  you 
have  done  for  us  since  we  have  been  in  your  city,  and  to 
say  that  whenever  any  of  you  come  South  just  speak  your 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND    SPEECHES.  207 

name,  and  remember  that  Boston  or  Massachusetts  is  the 
watchword,  and  we  will  meet  you  at  the  gates. 

The  monarch  may  forget  the  crown 

That  on  his  head  so  late  hath  been  ; 
The  bridegroom  may  forget  the  bride 

Was  made  his  own  but  yester  e'en  ; 
The  mother  may  forget  the  babe 

That  smiled  so  sweetly  on  her  knee  ; 
But  forget  thee  will  I  ne'er,  Glencairn, 

And  all  that  thou  hast  done  for  me. 


WRITINGS. 


"SMALL  JANE." 
THE  STORY  OF  A  LITTLE  HEROINE. 


my  experience  with  the  case  of  "  Sallie,"  I  feel  a 
hesitation  in  presenting  a  new  heroine  to  the  attention 
of  the  public. 

You  see,  I  do  not  mind  the  real  sorrow  that  I  experi- 
enced when  my  sincere  efforts  to  improve  the  condition  of 
this  child  came  to  naught.  But  I  was  staggered  and 
sickened  by  the  fact  that  most  of  my  friends  were  rejoiced 
at  her  downfall. 

I  do  not  remember  anything  that  gave  more  genuine  joy 
to  the  town  than  the  relapse  of  this  wretched  girl  into  the 
slums  from  which  she  had  been  lifted.  It  was  the  occasion 
of  general  hilarity — this  falling  back  of  an  immortal  soul 
into  Death — this  terrible  spectable  of  a  child  staggering 
blindly  from  sunlight  into  shame.  I  was  poked  in  the  ribs 
facetiously.  A  perfect  shower  of  chuckles  fell  on  my 
ear.  It  was  the  joke  of  the  season — this  triumph  of  the 
Devil  over  the  body  of  a  girl.  One  mad  young  wag,  who, 
with  a  keen  nose  for  a  joke,  followed  her  into  her  haunts 
of  crime,  came  back,  his  honest  face  convulsed  with  laugh- 
ter, and  bearing  on  his  lips  a  statement  from  her,  to  the 
literal  effect  that  "  I  was  a  d — d  fool." 

I  was  staggered,  I  say,  at  the  enjoyment  created  by  the 
downfall  of  this  girl.  For  myself,  I  can  hardly  imagine  a 
more  pitiful  sight  than  her  childish  figure,  as  with  face 
averted  and  hands  raised,  blinded  by  the  white  light  of  vir- 
tue and  bewildered  by  her  ne\v  condition,  she  slipped  back 
in  despair  to  her  old  shame.  I  may  be  a  "d — d  fool," 
but  I  cannot  find  the  heart  to  laugh  at  that. 

211 


212  JIKNKY    \V.    (iKADY, 

I  don't  know  how  it  is,  but  I  have  a  mania  for  looking 
into  cases  of  this  sort.  It  is  not  philanthropy  with  me; 
it  is  a  disease. 

At  the  editorial  desk,  I  sit  opposite  a  young  man  of  a 
high  order'of  mind. 

lie  makes  it  a  point  to  compass  the  problems  of 
nations.  I  dodge  them.  He  has  st-ttkd,  to  his  own  agree- 
ment, every  European  problem  of  tin-  past  decade.  Those 
problems  have  settled  me.  He  soars — I  plod.  Once  in  a 
while,  when  he  yearns  for  a  listener,  he  reaches  down  for 
my  scalp,  and  lifts  me  up  to  his  altitude,  where  I  shm-r 
and  blink,  until  his  talented  lingers  relax,  and  1  drop 
home.  It  delights  him  to  adjust  his  powerful  mind  to  the 
contemplation  of  contending  armies,— I  swash  around  with 
the  swarm  that  hangs  about  me. 

His  hero  is  Bismarck,  that  phlegmatic  miracle  that  has 
yoked  impulse  to  an  ox,  and  having  made  a  chess-board  of 
Europe,  plays  a  quiet  game  with  the  Pope.  My  hero  is  a 
blear-eyed  sot,  that  having  for  four  years  waged  a  gigantic 
battle  with  drink,  and  alternated  between  watery  Reform 
and  positive  Tremens,  is  now  playing  a  vague  and  losing 
game  with  Spontaneous  Combustion.  My  friend  discusses 
Bismarck's  projects  with  a  vastness  of  mind  that  actually 
makes  his  discourse  dim,  and  I  slip  off  to  try  my  hero's 
temper,  and  see  whether  I  shall  have  him  wind  his  intoxi- 
cated arms  about  my  neck  and  envelop  me  in  an  atmo- 
sphere of  whisky  and  reform,  or  fall  recumbent  in  the  gut- 
ter, his  weak  but  honest  face  upturned  to  the  sky,  and 
his  moist,  white  hand  working  vaguely  upward  from  his 
placid  breast,  in  token  of  abject  surrender. 

Bismarck  is  a  bigger  man  than  Bob. 

But  I  can't  help  thinking  that  Bob  is  engaged  in  the 
most  thrilling  and  desperate  conflict.  Anyhow,  I  had 
rather  see  his  watery  eyes  grow  clear  and  his  paroxysmal 
arms  grow  steadfast,  than  to  see  Bismarck  wipe  out  every 
potentate  in  Europe.  It's  a  grave  thing  to  watch  the  con- 
flicts of  kings,  and  see  nations  embattled  rushing  against 
each  other.  But  there  are  greater  and  deeper  conflicts 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  213 

waged  in  our  midst  every  day,  when  the  legions  of  Despair 
swarm  against  stout  hearts,  and  Hunger  and  Suffering  storm 
the  citadel  of  human  lives  ! 

But  I  started  to  tell  you  of  my  new  heroine. 

Her  name  is  Jane. 

She  presented  herself  one  morning  about  three  months 
ago.  A  trim,  slender  figure,  the  growth  of  nine  years.  It 
was  such  a  small  area  of  poverty  that  I  felt  capable  of 
attending  to  it  myself.  But  I  remembered  that  small 
beggars  usually  represent  productive  but  prostrated  parents 
and  a  brood  of  children.  The  smaller  the  beggar  the  larger 
the  family.  I  therefore  summoned  the  good  little  woman 
who  guides  my  household  affairs. 

She  claims  to  be  an  expert  in  beggars.  She  has  certain 
tests  that  she  applies  to  all  comers.  Her  fundamental  rule 
is  that  all  applicants  are  entitled  to  cold  bread  on  first  call. 
After  this  she  either  grades  them  up  to  cake  and  preserves, 
or  holds  them  to  scraps.  I  remember  that  she  kept  Col. 
Nash  on  dry  biscuit  for  thirteen  months,  while  other  appli- 
cants have  gone  up  to  pie  in  three  visits.  I  never  felt  any 
hesitation  in  taking  her  judgment  after  that,  for  of  all 
wheedling  mendicants  Col.  Nash,  the  alleged  scissors- 
grinder,  takes  the  lead. 

But  Jane  was  not  a  beggar.  She  carried  on  her  arm  a 
basket.  It  was  filled  with  some  useless  articles  that  she 
wanted  to  sell.  Would  the  lady  look  at  them  ?  Oh  !  of 
course  !  They  were  bits  of  splints  embroidered  with  gay 
worsted.  What  were  they  for  ?  Why,  she  didn't  know. 
She  just  thought  somebody  would  buy  them,  and  she 
needed  some  money  so  badly. 

"  Who  is  your  mother? " 

"  I  haven' t  any.    She  is  dead.    I  have  a  father,  though." 

"  What  does  he  do  ?" 

"He's  sick  most  of  the  time.  He  works  when  he  is 
well." 

"What's  his  name?" 

"Robert-       -!" 

(Saints!    My  "Bob!"    Sick  indeed!    The  weak  rascal !) 


HK.NKV     W.    (iUADY, 

Jan.-  was  asked  in,  and  I  began  to  investigate.  I 
learned  that  tills  child  was  literally  alone  in  the  world. 
Slit-  had  :i  sister,  a  puny  two-year-old,  and  a  drunken 
father— my  ll:il>l>y  friend.  They  lived  in  a  rickety  hovel, 
out  of  which  the  last  chair  had  been  sold  to  pay  rent.  The 
mother,  a  year  an  invalid,  had  been  accustomed  to  work 
little  trilles  in  splints  and  worsted.  She  dying,  the  child 
picked  up  the  splints,  and  worked  ui'ot.-xju,-  baby  fancies 
in  wood  and  worsted.  She  had  no  time  for  weeping.  Her 
hunger  dried  her  eyes.  The  cooing  baby  by  her  side, 
crying  for  bread,  made  her  forget  the  dead  mother.  So  she 
fashioned  the  splints  together,  and  with  a  brave  heart  went 
out  to  sell  them. 

Bob  reformed  at  the  bedside  of  his  dying  wife.  Pos- 
sibly at  that  moment  the  angels  that  had  come  to  guide  the 
woman  home  swept  away  the  mist  of  the  man's  debauch, 
and  gave  him  a  glimpse  of  the  pure  life  that  lay  behind. 
Certain  it  is  that  his  moist,  uncertain  hands  crept  vaguely 
up  the  cover  till  they  caught  the  wasted  cheeks  of  his  wife, 
and  his  shaggy  head  bent  down  till  his  quivering  lips  found 
hers.  And  the  poor  wife,  yielding  once  more  to  the  love 
that  had  outlived  shame  and  desertion,  turned  her  eyes 
from  her  children  and  fixed  them  on  her  husband.  Ah ! 
how  this  earthly  hope  and  this  earthly  love  chased  even  the 
serenity  of  Heaven  from  her  face,  and  lighted  it  with  tender 
rapture!  How  quickly  this  drunkard  supplanted  God  in 
the  dying  woman's  soul?  "Oh,  Bob!  my  darling !"  she 
gasped,  and  raising  her  face  toward  him  with  a  masterful 
yearning,  she  died. 

"Mother  didn't  seem  to  know  we  were  there  after  father 
came,"  Jane  told  me.  And  I  wondered  if  the  child  had  not 
been  hurt,  that  all  her  months  of  patient  love  and  watching 
had  been  forgotten  in  a  tempest  of  love  for  a  vagabond 
husband  that  had  wrought  nothing  but  disaster  and  death. 

After  the  funeral,  through  which  he  went  in  a  dazed 
sort  of  stupor,  Bob  got  drunk,  I  don't  know  why  or  how. 
He  seemed  tenderer  since  then  than  before.  I  noticed  that 
he  reformed  of tener  and  got  over  it  quicker.  A  piece  of 


HIS   LIFE,    WHITINGS,    AND   Sl'KK(  i!  i.S.  215 

crape  that  Jane  had  fixed  about  his  hat  seemed  to  po 
sacred  properties  to  him.  When  lie  touched  it  and  sworu 
abstinence,  lie  generally  held  out  two  or  three  days.  One 
night,  as  he  lay  in  the  gutter,  a  cow,  full  of  respect  for  his 
person,  and  yet  unable  to  utterly  control  her  hunger, 
chewed  his  hat.  Since  then  he  seemed  to  have  lost  his 
moorings,  and  drifted  about  on  a  currentless  drunk. 

He  was  always  kind  to  Jane  and  the  little  biddie.  In 
his  maudlin  way  he  would  caress  them,  and  cry  over  them, 
arid  reform  with  them,  and  promise  "to  work  for  them. 
Even  when  he  ate  their  last  crust  of  bread,  lie  accom- 
panied the  action  with  a  sort  of  fumbling  pomposity  that 
robbed  it  of  its  horror.  He  never  did  it  without  promising 
to  go  out  at  once  and  bring  back  a  sack  of  flour.  Once  he 
went  so  high  as  to  promise  four  sacks.  So  that  the  child, 
in  love  like  her  mother  with  the  old  rascal,  and  like  her 
mother,  fresh  always  in  faith,  was  rather  rejoiced  than 
otherwise  when  he  ate  the  bread.  Did  he  bring  the  flour  ? 

"  Why,  how  could  he  ?  They  had  to  bring  him  home. 
So  of  course  I  did  not  blame  him.  Poor  father  ! " 

I  must  do  Bob  the  justice  to  say  that  he  never  earned  a 
cent  in  all  these  days  that  he  did  not  intend  giving  to 
Jane.  Of  course  he  never  did  it,  but  I  desire  him  to  have 
the  credit  of  his  intention.  If  the  Lord  held  the  best  of 
us  strictly  to  performance  and  ruled  out  intention,  we 
wouldn'  t  be  much  better  in  his  sight  than  Bob  is  in  ours. 

One  day  I  was  sitting  behind  a  window  looking  at 
Jane,  who  stood  in  the  kitchen  door.  Her  oldish-looking, 
chipper  little  face  was  turned  straight  to  me.  It  was  a 
pretty  face.  The  brown  eyes  were  softened  with  suffer- 
ing, and  fear  and  anxiety  had  driven  all  color  from  her 
thin  cheeks.  I  noticed  that  her  mouth  was  never  still. 
Though  she  was  alone  and  silent,  her  lips  quivered  and 
trembled  all  the  time.  At  times  they  would  break  into  a 
dumb  sob.  Then  she  would  draw  them  firmly  together. 
Again  they  would  twitch  convulsively  in  the  terrible  sem- 
blance of  a  smile.  Then  in  that  pretty,  feminine  way  she 
would  pucker  them  together. 


216  I:Y    W.   ORADY, 

Long  Suffering  had  racked  the  child  until  she  was  nil 
awry,  and  her  nerves  were  plunging  through  her  tender 
frame  like  devils. 

"  .lane,  were  you  ever  hungry  ?  " 

"Sir!"  and  she  started  painfully,  while  her  starved 
heart  managed  to  send  a  thin  coating  of  scarlet  into  her 
checks.  Sin-  was  ;i  proud  little  body,  and  never  talked  of 
her  sorrows. 

May  the  Lord  forgive  me  for  repeating  the  question  ! 

"Sometimes,  sir,  when  I  couldn't  sell  anything.  Last 
Saturday  we  had  only  some  bread  for  dinner.  We  never 
had  anything  else  until  Sunday  night.  I  wouldn't  have 
minded  it  then,  but  Mary  cried  so  for  bread  that  I  went 
out,  and  a  lady  that  I  knew  gave  me  some  things." 

Now,  think  of  that.  From  a  crust  at  Saturday  noon, 
on  nothing  till  Sunday  night.  Of  all  the  abundant  mar- 
keting of  Saturday  evening  ;  of  all  the  luxuries  of  Sunday 
breakfast  and  dinner,  not  a  crumb  for  this  poor  child. 
AVhile  we  were  dressing  our  children  for  their  trip  to  Sun- 
day-school, or  their  romp  over  the  hills,  this  poor  child, 
gnawed  by  hunger,  deserted  by  her  drunken  father,  hold- 
ing a  starving  baby,  sat  crouched  in  a  hovel,  given  up  to 
despair  and  hopelessness.  And  that,  too,  within  the  sound 
of  the  bells  that  made  the  church-steeples  thrill  with 
music,  and  called  God's  people  to  church  ! 

A  friend  who  had  heard  Jane's  story  had  given  me 
three  dollars  for  her.  I  gave  it  to  her,  and  told  her  that 
as  her  rent  was  paid,  she  could  with  this  lay  in  some  pro- 
visions. She  was  crying  then,  but  she  dried  her  tears  and 
hurried  off. 


"  Will  you  please  come  here  and  look  ? "  called  a  lady 
whose  call  I  always  obey,  about  an  hour  afterward. 

I  went,  and  there  stood  Jane,  flushed  and  happy. 

"I  declare  I  am  astonished  at  this  child!"  said  the 
lady. 

And  therewith  she    displayed    Jane's   purchases.    A 


HIS    LIFE,    WJJlTlNliS,    AND    SPEECHES.  217 

little  meal  and  meat  had  been  sent  home.  The  rest  she 
hud  with  her.  First,  there  w;is  a  goblet  of  strained  honey  ; 
then  a  bundle  of  candy  "for  baby,"  a  package  of  tea 
"for  father,"  and  a  chip  straw  hat,  with  three  gayly 
colored  ribbons,  "for  herself."  And  that's  where  the 
money  had  gone  ! 

"I  am  just  put  out  with  her,"  said  the  arbitress  of 
my  affairs,  after  Jane  had  gathered  up  her  In-asim^ 
and  departed.  "To  waste  her  money  like  that!  I  can 
imagine  how  the  poor,  half-starved  child  couldn't  help 
buying  the  honey-goblet ;  I  should  die  myself  if  I  didn't 
have  something  sweet ;  but  how  she  came  to  buy  that  hat 
and  ribbons  I  can't  see  !  " 

Ah,  blue-eyed  woman !  There's  a  yearning  in  the 
feminine  soul  stronger  than  hunger.  There's  a  passion 
there  that  starvation  cannot  conquer.  The  hat  and  rib- 
bons were  bought  in  response  to  that  craving.  The  hat, 
I'll  bet  thee,  was  bought  before  the  honey, — aye,  before 
the  meal  or  meat.  "Can't  understand  it?"  Then,  my 
spouse,  I'll  explain  :  Jane  is  a  woman  ! 

I  must  confess  that  I  was  pleased  at  the  misdirection  of 
Jane's  funds.  Have  you  ever  had  a  child  deep  in  a  long- 
continued  stupor  from  fever  ?  How  delighted  you  were 
then  when,  tempted  by  some  trifle,  he  gave  signs  of  eager- 
ness !  So  I  was  rejoiced  to  see  that  the  long  years  of  suf- 
fering had  not  crushed  hope  and  emotion  out  of  this  girl's 
life. 

The  tea  and  the  candy  showed  that  her  affections, 
working  up  to  the  father  and  drawn  to  the  baby,,  were  all 
right.  The  honey  gave  evidence  that  the  fresh  impulses 
of  childhood  had  not  been  nipped  and  chilled.  The  hat 
and  ribbons — best  and  most  hopeful  purchase  of  all- 
proved  that  the  womanly  vanity  and  love  of  prettiness 
still  fluttered  in  her  young  soul.  Nothing  is  so  charming 
and  so  feminine  in  woman  as  the  passion  for  dress. 
Laugh  at  it  as  we  may,  I  think  that  men  will  agree  that 
there  is  nothing  so  patlx-tir  as  a  young  woman  out  of 
whom  all  hope  of  fine  appearance  has  been  pressed.  A 


i:v    w.    ORADT, 

ribbon  is  tin-  sign  in  which  Woman  conquers.  T  wager 
that  Kvc  mad*1  a  n*-at,  many -colored  thing  of  fig  ]••;. 

l>iit  to  return  to  .lain-. 

I  know  that  this  desultory  sketch  should  be  closed 
with  something  unusual.  .lane  should  die  or  get  married, 
lint  she's  too  young  for  eitlier.  And  so  her  lift,1  is  running 
on  ever.  Sh«-  plods  the  streets  as  she  used  to  do.  She  has 
quit  selling  the  flaming  scraps  she  used  to  sell,  and  now 
knits  her  young  but  resolute  brow  over  crochet  work, 
which  she  sells  at  marvelous  prices.  Her  path  is  flecked 
with  more  sunshine  than  ever  before,  and  at  Sunday-school 
she  is  as  smart  a  little  woman  as  can  be  seen.  If  the 
shadow  of  a  staggering  figure,  that  falls  so  often  across 
her  course,  could  be  lifted,  she  would  have  little  else  to 
grieve  over.  Not  that  she  complains  of  this — not  a  bit  of 
it.  "Poor  father  is  sick  so  much.  How  can  he  be 
expected  to  work?''  And  so  she  goes  on,  with  her 
woman's  nature  clinging  to  him  closer  than  ever;  even  as 
the  ivy  clings  to  the  old  ruin.  Hiding  his  shame  from  the 
world,  wrapping  him  in  the  plenitude  of  her  faith,  and 
binding  up  his  shattered  resolves  with  her  heart-strings. 

And  as  for  Bob  : 

I  am  strongly  tempted  to  tell  a  lie,  and  say  that  he  is 
either  sober  or  dead.  But  he  is  neither.  He  is  the  same 
shiftless,  irresponsible  fellow  that  I  have  known  for  three 
years.  His  face  is  heavier,  his  eyes  are  smaller,  his  nose 
redder,  his  flesh  more  moist  than  ever.  But  in  the  depth 
of  his  debauch  there  seems  to  have  been  winged  some  idea 
of  the  excellence  of  Jane's  life,  and  the  fineness  of  her 
martyrdom.  He  catches  me  anywhere  he  sees  me,  and, 
falling  on  my  shirt-front,  weeps  copious  tears  of  praise 
and  pop-skull,  while  talking  of  her.  He  swears  by  her. 

By  the  way,  I  must  do  him  justice.  Yesterday  he 
came  to  me  very  much  affected.  He  was  white-lipped, 
and  trembling,  and  hungry.  He  had  spent  the  night  in 
the  gutter,  and  the  policeman  who  was  scattering  the  dis- 
infecting lime,  either  careless  or  wise  beyond  his  kind,  had 
powdered  him  all  over,  lie  seemed  to  be  terribly  in  earn- 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND    SPEECHES.  219 

est.  He  raised  his  trembling  hand  to  his  hat  and  touched 
the  place  where  the  crape  used  to  be,  and  swore  that  he 
intended  to  reform,  for  good  and  all.  "  S'elp  me  Jane  !  " 
he  said. 

I  have  not  seen  him  since.  I  hope  that  the  iron  has  at 
last  entered  his  soul  and  will  hold  him  steadfast.  Ha ! 
that  sounds  like  him  stumbling  up  the  steps  now.  Hey  ! 
he  has  rolled  back  to  the  bottom  !  Here  he  comes  again. 
That  must  be  him.  "Of  course!" 


I1KNKV    \V.    c.UADY, 


DOBBS! 

A  THUMBNAIL  SKI  r< n  OF  A  MAIMYI:. 


I  AM  proud  of  my  acquaintance  with  Dobbs. 
lie  \\as  a  hero,  whose  deeds  were  not  spread  upon  any 
of  i  lie  books  of  men,  but  whose  martyrdom  I  am  sure  illus- 
trates a  glowing  page  in  God's  great  life  book. 

I  met  him  late  one  night. 

The  paper,  with  its  burden  of  news  and  gossip,  had  just 
been  put  to  press,  and  I  strolled  out  of  the  hot,  clanking 
room  to  catch  a  sight  of  the  cool  morning  stars,  an<l  a 
wlii IF  of  the  dew-laden  breezes  of  the  dawn. 

Silhouetted  against  the  intercepted  stars,  I  saw  a  tall 
and  striking  form,  standing  like  a  statue  on  tlin  corner. 

As  I  came  out  of  the  door  the  figure  approached. 

"  Is  this  the  Herald  office,  sir  ? '' 

"  Yes,  sir.     Can  I  serve  you  in  any  way  ? " 

"  Well—  '  hesitating  for  an  instant,  and  then  speaking 
boldly  and  sharply,  "  I  wanted  to  know  if  you  could  not 
trust  me  for  a  few  papers  ? " 

"I  suppose  so  ;  walk  in  to  the  light." 

I  shall  never  forget  the  impression  Dobbs  made  on  me 
that  night,  as  we  two  walked  in  from  the  starlight  to  the 
glare  of  the  gas-burners. 

A  BLAZE  OF  HONESTY. 

As  I  have  said  before,  he  had  a  tall  and  striking  figure. 
His  face  was  ugly.  He  was  ungraceful,  ragged,  and  un- 
couth. Yet  there  was  a  splendid  glow  of  honesty  that 
shone  from  every  feature,  and  challenged  your  admiration. 
It  wras  not  that  cheap  honesty  that  suffuses  the  face  of  your 
average  honest  man  ;  but  a  vivid  burst  of  light  that,  fed  by 
principle,  sent  its  glow  from  the  heart.  It  was  not  the 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  221 

passive  honesty  that  is  the  portion  of  men  who  have  no 
need  to  steal,  but  the  triumphant  honesty  that  has  grap- 
pled with  poverty,  with  disease,  with  dispair,  and  con- 
quered the  whole  devil's  brood  of  temptation  ;  the  honesty 
that  has  been  sorely  tried,  the  honesty  of  martyrdom  ;  the 
honesty  of  heroism.  He  was  the  honestest  man  I  ever 
knew. 

THE  PATHOS  OF  INCONGRUITY. 

There  was  one  feature  of  his  dress  that  was  pathetic  in 
its  uniqueness.  He  wore  a  superb  swallow-tail  dress-coat; 
a  gorgeous  coat,  which  was  doubtless  christened  at  some 
happy  wedding  (his  father's,  I  suppose) ;  had  walked  side 
by  side  with  dainty  laces  ;  been  swept  through  stately  qua- 
drilles, pressed  upon  velvet,  and  to-night  came  to  me  upon 
a  shirtless  back,  and  asked  "  trust "  for  a  half-dozen  news- 
papers. 

It  had  that  seedy,  threadbare  look  which  makes  broad- 
cloth, after  its  first  season,  the  most  melancholy  dress  that 
sombre  ingenuity  ever  invented.  It  was  scrupulously 
brushed  and  buttoned  close  up  to  the  chin,  whether  to  hide 
the  lack  of  a  shirt,  I  never  in  the  course  of  six  months' 
intimate  acquaintance  had  the  audacity  to  inquire.  In  the 
sleeve,  on  which  rosy  wrists  had,  in  days  gone  by,  laid  in 
loving  confidence,  a  shriveled  arm  hung  loosely,  and  from 
its  outlet  three  decrepit  fingers  driveled.  His  hat  was  old, 
and  fell  around  his  ears. 

His  breeches,  of  a  whitish  material,  which  had  the  pecu- 
liarity of  leaving  the  office  perfectly  dirty  one  evening  and 
coming  back  pure  and  clean  the  next  morning.  What 
amount  of  midnight  scrubbing  this  required  from  my  hero 
Dobbs,  I  will  not  attempt  to  tell.  Neither  will  I  guess  how 
he  became  possessed  of  that  wonderful  coat.  Whether  in 
the  direst  days  of  the  poverty  which  had  caught  him,  his 
old  mother,  pitying  her  boy's  rags,  had  fished  it  up  from 
the  bottom  of  a  trunk  where,  with  mayhaps  an  orange- 
wreath  or  a  bit  of  white  veil,  it  had  lain  for  years,  the  last 
token  of  a  happy  bridal  night,  and,  baptizing  it  with  her 


222  HKM;Y    \v.   <, K.AMY. 

t«  ars,  had  thrown  it  around  his  bare  shoulders,  I  cannot 
tell.  All  I  know  is,  that  taken  in  connection  with  the  rest 
of  his  attire,  it  was  startling  in  its  contrast ;  and  that  I 
honored  the  brave  dignity  with  which  he  buttoned  this 
magnificent  coat  against  his  honest  rags,  and  strode  out  to 
meet  the  jeers  of  the  world  and  work  out  a  living. 

FIVE  DOLLARS  A  WKKK. 

I  knew  Dobbs  for  six  months !    Day  after  day  I  saw 
him  come  at  three  o'clock  in  the  morning.     I  saw  his  pale 
face,  and  that  coat  so  audacious  in  its  fineness,  go  to  the 
press-room,    fold   his    papers,    and    hurry    out   into    the 
weather.     One  night  I  stopped  him. 

"Dobbs,"  says  I,  "  how  much  do  you  make  a  week  ? " 

"  la  verage  five  dollars  and  twenty  cents,  sir.     I  have 

twenty- seven  regular  customers.     I  get  the  paper  at  fifteen 

cents  a  week  from  you,  and  sell  it  to  them  at  twenty-five 

cents.     I  make  two  dollars  and  seventy  cents  off  of  them, 

and  then  I  sell  about  twenty-five  extra  papers  a  morning." 

"  What  do  you  do  with  your  money  \ '' 

II  It  takes  nearly  all  of  it  to  support  me  and  mother." 
"  You  don't  mean  to  tell  me  that  you  and  your  mother 

live  on  five  Collars  and  twenty  cents  a  week  ? " 

"  Yes,  sir,  we  do,  and  pay  five  dollars  a  month  rent  out 
of  that.  We  live  pretty  well,  too,"  with  a  smile,  possibly 
induced  by  the  vision  of  some  of  those  luxuries  which  were 
included  under  the  head  of  "living  pretty  well."  1  was 
crushed! 

Fixe  dollars  and  twenty -five  cents  a  week!  The  sum 
which  I  waste  per  wjeek  upon  cigars.  The  paltry  amount 
which  I  pay  almost  any  night  at  the  theater.  The  sum 
that  I  spend  any  night  I  may  chance  to  strike  a  half-dozen 
boon  companions.  This  sum,  so  contemptible  to  me— 
wasted  so  lightly — I  find  to  be  the  sum  total  of  the  income 
of  a  whole  family — the  whole  support  of  two  human  beings. 
I  left  Dobbs,  humiliated  and  crushed.  I  pulled  my  hat 
over  my  eyes,  strolled  down  to  Mercer's,  and  bought  a 


HIS    LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND    SPKKCH  KS.  333 

twenty-five  cent  cigar  and  sat  down  to  think  over  my  duty 
in  the  premises. 

....  One  morning  the  book-keeper  of  the  Herald,  to 
whom  my  admiration  for  Dobbs  was  well  known  (I  having 
frequently  delivered  glowing  lectures  upon  his  character 
from  the  mailing  table  to  an  audience  of  carriers,  clerks, 
and  printers),  approached  me  and  with  a  devilish  smack  of 
joy  in  his  voice,  says : 

' '  I  am  afraid  your  man  Dobbs  is  a  fraud.  Some  time  ago 
he  persuaded  the  clerk  to  give  him  credit  on  papers.  He 
ran  up  a  bill  of  about  seven  dollars,  and  then  melted  from 
our  view.  We  have  not  seen  or  heard  of  him  since — expect 
he's  gone  to  trading  with  the  Constitution  now,  to  bilk 
them  out  of  a  bill." 

This  looked  bad — but  somehow  or  other  I  still  had  a  firm 
faith  in  my  hero.  God  had  written  "honesty"  too  plain 
in  his  face  for  my  confidence  in  him  to  be  shaken.  I  knew 
that  if  he  had  sinned  or  deceived,  that  it  was  starvation  or 
despair  that  had  driven  him  to  it,  and  I  forgave  him  even 
before  I  knew  he  was  guilty.  „  .  . 

About  a  week  after  this  happened,  a  bombazine  female — 
one  of  those  melancholy  women  that  occasionally  arise  like 
some  Banquo's  ghost  in  my  pathway,  and  always,  I  scarce 
know  why,  put  remorse  to  twitching  at  my  heart-strings- 
came  into  my  sanctum  and  asked  for  me. 

"I  am  the  mother,"  says  she,  in  a  voice  which  sorrow  (or 
snuff)  had  filled  with  tears  and  quavers — "of  Mr.  Dobbs,  a 
young  man  who  used  to  buy  papers  from  you.  He  left 
owing  you  a  little,  and  asked  me  to  see  you  about  it." 

' '  Left  ?    Where  has  he  gone  ? ' ' 

"To  heaven,  I  hope,  sir  !     He  is  dead  !  " 

"Dead?" 

A   CONSCIENTIOUS   DEBTOR. 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  my  poor  boy  went  last  Thursday.  He  were 
all  I  had  on  earth,  but  he  suffered  so  it  seemed  like  a  mercy 


224  IIKNKV     W. 

to  let  him  go.  He  were  worried  to  the  last  aboui  ;i  debt 
he  was  owiiT  of  yon.  lie  said  you  had  been  H.-V«T  to  liiiu, 
and  would  tliink  hard  ef  In- didn't  pay  you.  II'-  wanted 
you  to  come  and  see  him  so  he  could  explain  as  how  he 
were  took  down  with  the  rheumaf i/uni,  but  that  were  no 
one  to  miss  him  while  I  come  for  you.  He  had  owin'  to 
him  when  he  wen-  took,  about  three  dollars,  which  he  have 
an  account  oC  in  this  little  book.  lie  told  me  with  his  last 
breath  tocullectthis  money,  arid  not  to  use  a  cent  tell  I  had 
paid  you,  and  if  I  didn't  git  enough,  to  turn  you  over  the 
book.  I  hev  took  in  one  dollar  and  tirty  cents,  and" 
with  the  air  of  one  who  has  fought  the  good  fight — "  here 
it  is!  "  So  saying,  she  ran  her  hand  into  a  gash  in  the 
bombazine,  which  looked  like  a  grievous  wound,  and  pulled 
out  one  of  those  long  cloth  purses  that  always  reminded 
me  of  the  entrails  of  some  unfortunate  dead  animal,  and 
counted  out  the  money.  This  she  handed  me  with  the 
book. 

I  ran  my  eye  over  the  ruggedly  kept  accounts  and  found 
that  each  man  owed  from  a  dime  up  to  fifty  cents. 

"Why,   madam,"   says  I,    "these  accounts    are    not 
worth  collecting." 

"That's  what  he  was  afraid  of,"  says  she,  moving  to- 
ward a  bundle  that  lay  upon  the  floor ;  "he  told  me  if  you 
said  so,  to  give  you  this,  and  ask  you  to  sell  it  if  you  could, 
and  make  your  money,  It's  all  he  had,  sir,  or  me,  either, 
and  he  wouldn't  die  easy  'til  I  told  him  I  wild  do  it !  God 
knows"— and  the  tears  rolled  down  her  thin  and  hollow 
cheeks — "God  knows  it  were  a  struggle  to  promise  to  give 
it  up.  He  wore  it,  and  his  father  before  him.  How  many 
times  it  has  covered  'em  both  !  I  had  hoped  to  carry  it  to 
the  end  with  me,  and  wrap  my  old  body  in  it  when  I  died. 
But  it  was  all  we  had  which  was  fine,  and  he  wouldn't  rest 
'til  I  told  him  I  wud  give  it  to  you.  Then  he  smiled  as 
pert-like  as  a  child,  and  kissed  me,  and  says,  'Now  I  am 
ready  to  go  !'  He  were  a  good  boy.  sir.  as  ever  lived" 
and  she  rocked  her  old  body  to  and  fro  with  her  grief. 
Need  I  say  that  she  had  offered  me  the  old  dress-coat  ? 


HIS    LIFK,    WRITINGS,     AND    Sl'KKCH  KS.  OO.} 

That  sacred  garment,  blessed  with  the  memory  of  her  son 
and  his  father,  and  which,  rather  than  give  up,  she  would 
willingly  pluck  either  of  the  withered  arms  that  hung  at 
ht-r  sides  from  its  socket! 

1  dropped  my  eyes  to  the  account  book  again — for  what 
purpose  I  am  not  ashamed  that  the  reader  may  guess. 

In  a  few  moments  I  spoke  : 

"  Madam,  I  was  mistaken  in  the  value  of  these  accounts ; 
most  of  the  debtors  on  this  book,  I  find  upon  a  second  look, 
are  capitalists.  The  811  worth  of  accounts  will  sell  for  s!2 
anywhere.  Your  son  owed  me  $7.  Leave  the  book  with 
me  ;  I  will  pay  myself,  and  here  is  so  balance  which  I  hand 
to  you.  Your  son  was  a  good  boy,  and  I  feel  honored  that 
I  can  serve  his  mother." 

She  folded  the  old  coat  up  and  departed. 

I  kept  the  book. 

It  was  a  simple  record  of  Dobbs's  life.  Here  ran  his 
expense  list — a  dreary  trickle  of  "bacon"  and  "meal" 
and  "rent,"  enlivened  only  once  with  "sugar";  a  sac- 
charine suggestion  that  I  am  unable  to  account  for,  as  it 
surely  did  not  comport  with  either  of  the  staples  that 
formed  the  basis  of  his  life.  Probably,  on  some  grand 
occasion,  he  and  his  mother  ate  it  in  the  lump. 

Here  were  his  accounts,  of  say  fifty  cents  each,  on  men 
accounted  responsible  in  the  world's  eye — accounts  for 
papers  furnished  through  snow,  and  sleet,  and  rain  !  Some 
of  them  showed  signs  of  having  been  called  for  a  dozen 
times,  being  frescoed  with  such  notes  as  "  Call  Tuesday," 
"Call  Wednesday,"  "  Call  Thursday,"  etc. 

On  another  page  was  a  pathetic  list  of  delusive,  liniments 
and  medicines,  with  which  he  had  attacked  his  stubborn 
disease.  Such  as,  "  King  of  Pane — kored.a  man  in  Mary- 
etti  in  2  days,  $1.00";  "Magic  Linament— kores  in  10 
'minnits,  $2.00  a  bottel";  and  soon  through  the  whole  cata- 
logue of  snares  which  the  patent  office  turns  out  year  after 
year.  Poor  fellow  !  the  only  relief  he  got  from  his  rack- 
ing pains  was  when  God  laid  his  healing  hand  on  him, 

I  shall  keep  the  book  as  long  as  I  live, 


1II..NKY     W.     CKADY, 

Jn  its  thumbed  and  izreasy  leaves  is  written  the.  record 
of  a  heroism  iiK.i-r  lofty  and  a  martyrdom  more  lustrous 
than  «>vcr  lit  th«-  ]>a.u-«-  of  hook  l»<-for<-  or  since. 

I  think  I  shall  liav(>  it  print'-d  in  duplicate,  and 
scattered  as  leaven  throughout  the  lumpy  Sunday-school 
libraries  of  the  land. 


HIS    LIFK,    \VII1TIXGS,    AND    SPEK(  II  !  227 


A  CORNER  LOT. 


"E  has  been  at  that  for  thirteen  years." 

And  the  speaker  laughed  as  he  watched  an  old 
man  gathering  up  a  bucket  of  stones  and  broken  bricks. 
The  old  man  continued  his  work  until  his  bucket  was  filled, 
and  then  started  back  toward  Spring  Street,  stopping  on 
the  way  to  resurrect  a  rusted  old  hoop  that  was  nearly 
buried  in  the  gutter. 

After  walking  about  three  blocks  he  stopped  at  the  cor- 
ner of  Spring  and  James  streets,  and  laying  the  rusty  hoop 
carefully  upon  a  great  heap  of  hoops  of  all  kinds  and  sizes, 
he  carried  the  bucket  to  the  back  of  his  lot,  a  part  of 
which  was  considerably  lower  than  the  front,  and  emptied 
the  bucketful  of  bricks  and  stones. 

He  was  a  very  old  man — about  seventy  years  old,  appar- 
ently— in  his  shirt-sleeves,  and  wearing  a  dingy  straw  hat. 
He  was  feeble,  too,  and  his  steps  were  slow,  but  he  stopped 
only  to  get  a  drink  of  water  at  the  back  door,  and  then 
ambled  off  with  the  empty  bucket. 

The  little  frame  structure  is  half  store  and  half  resi- 
dence. Just  inside  the  door  to  the  store  sat  a  portly  old 
lady  of  sixty  or  thereabouts.  "  Who  is  that  old  man  yon- 
der with  that  empty  bucket?  " 

"Him!  Why  that's  old  man  Lewis  Powell,  and  he's 
my  husband.  I  thought  everybody  knowed  him." 

"  Is  that  all  he  does  ?" 

"  Fill  up  the  lot,  you  mean  ?  No,  no,  he  puts  hoops  on 
barrels  and  kegs,  and  raises  calves  and  such  like,  but  that's 
his  main  business.  He's  been  at  it  now  for  nigh  on  to 
fourteen  years." 

"  And  how  much  has  he  filled  in  ?" 

"Oh,  from  the  sidewalk  on  back.     The  lot  is  fifty  by 


IIKNKV     W.    (.i:\KV, 

t-i-ht y,  mid  it  used  to  !><•  just  one  big  liole.  Now  here  on 
Spring  Street  wln-iv  tlie  front  is,  the  hunk  \\.-nt  nearly 
straight  down  'cause  the  eye  of  the  sewer  was  linht  th'-n-. 
Then  the  sewer  was  open  and  run  in  a.  ,L,rully  the  whole 
length  of  the  lot,  and  just  about  in  the  middle  of  the  lot. 
Here  on  James  Street,  at  the  side  there,  it  wasn't  so  steep. 
The  front  of  the  old  house  was  about  half-way  down  the 
bank,  and  the  pillars  at  the  back  was  over  ten  feet  high. 
The  house  wasn't  more'n  twelve  feet  that  way,  eith<  ' 
you  can  tell  how  steep  it  was.  And  right  at  the  back  door 
the  sewer  passed." 

"  How  deep  was  it  ? " 

"  Well,  right  here  at  the  front  the  city  men  measured  to 
the  sewer  once,  and  it  was  a  little  over  twenty  feet  below 
the  sidewalk.  The  back  of  the  lot  was  a  little  lower.  It 
was  one  big  hole  tifty  by  eighty,  and  almost  in  the  bottom 
of  it  was  the  old  house." 

"Fourteen  years  ago." 

"Fourteen  years  ago  we  bought  it  from  Jack  Smith  on 
time.  It  wasn't  much,  but  me  and  Jenny  and  Joe  and 
Stella  just  buckled  down  and  worked  like  tigers.  The 
neighbors  made  fun  of  us  at  first,  and  even  the  niggers 
thought  it  was  funny.  Now,  I  aint  telling  you  this  be- 
cause I'm  stuck  up  about  it,  but  it  just  shows  what  the 
Powell  family  has  done,  and  it  shows  what  any  poor  folks 
can  do  if  they  just  stick  at  it." 

"Didn't  the  old  man  help?" 

"  Yes,  a  little.  But  we  had  to  live,  and  then  he  spent 
lots  of  his  time  a-fillin'  up,  so  the  brunt  of  the  money  part 
fell  on  me  and  the  children.  We  bought  the  mudhole,  and 
he  made  the  mudhole  what  it  is  now.  Right  here  where 
the  mudhole  was  there  is  a  corner  lot,  and  them  what  used 
to  laugh  at  us  would  like  mighty  well  to  own  it  now." 

And  the  old  lady  smiled  as  though  the  thought  was  a 
very  pleasant  one. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  she  continued,  "it's  worth  a  good  deal  now, 
and  th«>  first  thing  you  know,  when  the  streets  get  paved 
along  here,  it  will  be  worth  a  lot  more  than  it  is  now," 


HIS   LIFE,    WHITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  229 

"And  the 'old  man  I" 

"  The  old  man  has  worked  mighty  faithful.  Little  at 
a  time  he  has  fetched  dirt,  and  rocks,  and  bricks,  and 
trash.  Then  the  city  put  a  pipe  there  for  the  sewer,  and 
he  begun  at  the  sidewalk  on  Spring  Street  and  filled  back. 
The  bank  kept  getting  further  and  further,  and  after,  I 
don't  know  how  long,  we  built  this  little  house  on  the 
filled-in  part.  The  old  man  kept  fillin'  back  till  we've  got 
a  pretty  big  back  yard  ;  and  there's  only  a  little  part  left 
to  fill  back  there.  You  see,  he  never  tore  up  the  old 
house — the  patchwork  palace  of  '77 — just  thro  wed  in 
around  it  and  in  it  till  he  has  almost  buried  it." 

"Why." 

"  Oh,  it's  just  a  notion  of  his.  He  didn't  want  to  see 
the  old  house  tore  up,  and  there  it  is  now,  with  just  the 
roof  stickin'  out.  In  a  little  while  it  will  be  one  level 
yard,  fifty  by  eighty,  and  a  corner  lot,  too.  And  by  the 
time  it  all  gets  filled  up — well,  me  and  the  old  man  is  get- 
tin'  feeble  now,  and  we  wont  last  much  longer.  But,  no'w 
that  we  are  all  out  of  debt,  and  just  enough  left  to  do  to 
keep  the  old  man's  hand  in,  it  does  me  good  to  think  of 
that  old  mud-hole,  and  how  we  had  to  save  and  slave  and 
pinch  to  pay  for  it.  And  I  think  the  old  man  likes  to 
stand  there  at  the  corner  and  look  back  how  level  and 
smooth  it  is,  and  think  how  it  was  done,  a  handful  at  a 
time,  through  the  rain  and  the  snow  and  the  sunshine. 
Fourteen  years  !  It  was  a  big  job,  but  we  stuck  to  it,  and 
I'm  restin'  now,  for  my  work  is  done.  The  old  man  don't 
work  like  he  used  to,  but  he  says  his  job  aint  finished  yet, 
and  he  keeps  fillin'  up." 

"  And  when  his  work  is  done — " 

"Then  he' 11  rest,  too." 


J11..NKV     \V.    (.KADV, 


THE    ATHEISTIC    TIDE    SWEEPING    OVER    THE 
CONTINENT. 


THE  THREATENED  DESTRUCTION  OF  mi:  SIMI-U-:  IVMTII 
OF  THE  FATHERS  jn   TI IK  VAIN  DECEITS  OF  MODKK.N 
PHILOSOPHERS. — AN  ATTACK  CHRISTIANS  MUST  MKKT. 


[WRIXTEN  FOR  THE  CONSTITUTION,    1881.] 

NK\V  YORK,  January  26. — The  divad  of  tlie  times,  as  I 
see  it,  is  the  growing  skepticism  in  the  leading  circles  of 
thought  and  action  throughout  the  country — a  swelling 
lide  of  atheism  and  unbelief  that  has  already  swept  over 
the  outposts  of  religion. 

I  am  not  alarmed  by  the  fact  that  Henry  Ward  Beecher 
shook  hands  with  Ingersoll  on  a  public  stand,  and  lias 
since  swung  beyond  the  limit  of  orthodoxy,  any  more  than 
I  am  reassured  by  the  fact  that  Stephen  II.  Tyng  has,  by 
indorsing  the  miracles  at  Lourdes,  swung  back  into  the 
stronghold  of  superstition.  These  are  mere  personal 
expressions  that  may  mean  much  or  little.  They  may  be 
classed  with  the  complaint  of  Dr.  Talmage  that  he  found 
religion  dead  in  a  circuit  of  3000  miles  of  travel  last  year, 
which  complaint  is  balanced  by  the  assertion  of  Dr.  Hall 
that  the  growth  of  religious  sentiment  was  never  so 
decisive  as  at  present. 

I  have  noted,  in  the  first  place,  that  the  latter-day 
writers — novelists,  scientists  and  essayists — are  arraying 
themselves  in  great  force  either  openly  on  the  side  of 
skepticism,  or  are  treating  religious  sentiment  with  a 
readiness  of  touch  and  lack  of  reverence,  that  is  hardly 
less  dangerous.  I  need  not  run  over  the  lists  of  scientists, 
beginning  with  Tyndall,  Huxley  and  Stephens,  that  have 
raised  the  banner  of  negation — nor  recount  the  number  of 


HIS    LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPKKCII  MS. 

novelists  who  follow  the  lead  of  sweet  George  Eliot,  this 
sad  and  gentle  woman,  who  allied  sentiment  to  positivism 
so  subtly,  and  who  died  with  the  promise  on  her  lips  tlial; 
her  life  would  "be  gathered  like  a  scroll  in  the  tomb, 
unread  forever" —who  said  that  she  "wanted  no  future 
that  broke  the  ties  of  the  past,"  and  has  gone  to  meet  the 
God  whose  existence  she  denied.  We  all  know  that 
within  the  past  twenty  years  there  has  been  an  alarming 
increase  of  atheism  among  the  leading  writers  in  all 
branches.  But  it  is  the  growth  of  skepticism  among  the 
people  that  has  astonished  me. 

I  am  not  misled  by  the  superb  eloquence  of  Ingersoll 
nor  the  noisy  blasphemy  of  his  imitators.  I  was  with  five 
journalists,  and  I  found  that  every  one  of  them  were 
skeptics,  two  of  them  in  the  most  emphatic  sense.  In  a 
sleeping-car  with  eight  passengers,  average  people  I  take 
it,  I  found  that  three  were  confirmed  atheists,  three  were 
doubtful  about  it,  and  two  were  old-fashioned  Christians. 
A  young  friend  of  mine,  a  journalist  and  lecturer,  asked 
me  a  few  months  ago  what  I  thought  of  his  preparing  a 
lecture  that  would  outdo  Ingersoll — his  excuse  being  that 
he  found  Ingersoll  so  popular.  I  asked  Henry  Watterson 
once  what  effect  Ingersoll' s  lectures  had  on  the  Louisville 
public.  "  No  more  than  a  theatrical  representation,"  was 
the  quick  reply.  Watterson  was  wrong.  I  have  never 
seen  a  man  who  came  away  from  an  Ingersoll  lecture  as 
stout  of  faith  and  as  strong  in  heart  as  he  was  when  he 
went  there. 

I  do  not  know  that  this  spirit  of  irreligion  and  unbelief 
has  made  much  inroad  on  the  churches.  It  is  as  yet 
simply  eating  away  the  material  upon  which  the  churches 
must  recruit  and  perpetuate  themselves.  There  is  a  large 
body  of  men  and  women,  the  bulk  probably  of  our  popu- 
lation, that  is  between  the  church  and  its  enemies  ;  not 
members  of  the  church  or  open  professors  of  religion,  they 
have  yet  had  reverence  for  the  religious  beliefs,  have 
respected  the  rule  of  conscience,  and  believed  in  the  exist- 
ence of  one  Supreme  Being.  These  men  and  women  have 


>  i:v    \\ .   < 

been  useful  to  the  caii^-  of  religion,  in  that  they  held  nil 
the  outposts  about  tin-  camp  of  the  church  militant.  ;m<l 
protected  it  with  enwrapping  Conservatism  :md  sympathy. 
It  is  this  class  of  people  that  are  now  yielding  to  the 
assaults  of  the  infidel,  Having  none  of  tin-  inspiration  of 
religion,  and  possessing  neither  the  cut hiisiasni  of  converts 
nor  the  faith  of  veterans,  they  are  easily  bewildered  and 
overcome.  It  is  a  careless  and  unthinking  multitude  on 
which  the  atheists  are  working,  and  the  very  inertia  of  a 
mol)  will  carry  thousands  if  the  drift  of  the  mass  once 
floats  to  the  ocean.  And  the  man  or  woman  who  rides  on 
the  ebbing  tide  goes  never  to  return.  Religious  beliefs 
once  shattered  are  hardly  mended.  The  church  may 
reclaim  its  sinners,  but  its  skeptics,  never. 

It  is  not  surprising  that  this  period  of  critical  investi- 
gation into  all  creeds  and  beliefs  has  come.  It  is  a  logical 
epoch,  come  in  its  appointed  time.  It  is  one  of  the  penal- 
ties of  progress.  We  have  stripped  all  the  earth  of  mystery, 
and  brought  all  its  phenomena  under  the  square  and  com- 
pass, so  that  we  might  have  expected  science  to  doubt  the 
mystery  of  life  itself,  and  to  plant  its  theodolite  for  a 
measurement  of  the  Eternal,  and  pitched  its  crucible  for  an 
analysis  of  the  soul.  It  was  natural  that  the  Greek  should 
be  led  to  the  worship  of  his  physical  gods,  for  the  earth 
itself  was  a  mystery  that  he  could  not  divine — a  vastness 
and  vagueness  that  he  could  not  comprehend.  But  we  have 
fathomed  its  uttermost  secret ;  felt  its  most  secret  pulse, 
girdled  it  with  steel,  harnessed  it  and  trapped  it  to  our 
liking.  What  was  mystery  is  now  demonstrated  ;  what 
was  vague  is  now  apparent.  Science  has  dispelled  illusion 
after  illusion,  struck  down  error  after  error,  made  plain  all 
that  was  vague  on  earth,  and  reduced  every  mystery  to 
demonstration.  It  is  little  wonder  then  that,  at  last  having 
reduced  all  the  illusions  of  matter  to  an  equation,  and 
anchored  every  theory  to  a  fixed  formula,  it  should  assail 
the  mystery  of  life  itself,  and  warn  the  world  that  science 
would  yet  furnish  the  key  to  the  problem  of  the  soul.  The 
obelisk,  plucked  from  the  heart  of  Egypt,  rests  upon  a 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND    Si'KIX  II KS.  233 

shore  that  was  as  vaguely  and  infinitely  beyond  the  knowl- 
edge or  aspiration  of  its  builders  as  the  shores  of  a  star 
that  lights  the  space  beyond  our  vision  are  to  us  to-day  ; 
the  Chinaman  jostles  us  in  the  streets,  and  the  centuries 
that  look  through  his  dreamy  eyes  have  lost  all  sense  of  > 
wonder  ;  ships  that  were  freighted  from  the  heart  of  Africa 
lie  in  our  harbor,  and  our  market-places  are  vocal  with 
more  tongues  than  bewildered  the  builders  at  Babel ;  a 
letter  slips  around  the  earth  in  ninety  days,  and  the  mes- 
sages of  men  flash  along  the  bed  of  the  ocean  ;  we  tell  the 
secrets  of  the  universe  as  a  woman  tells  her  beads,  and  the 
stars  whirl  serenely  through  orbits  that  science  has  defined; 
we  even  read  of  the  instant  when  the  comet  that  plunged 
in  dim  illimitable  distance,  where  even  the  separate  stars 
are  lost  in  mist  and  vapor,  shall  whirl  again  into  the  vision 
of  man,  a  wanderer  that  could  not  shake  off  the  inexorable 
supervision  of  science,  even  in  the  chill  and  measureless 
depths  of  the  universe.  Fit  time  is  this,  then,  for  science 
to  make  its  last  and  supreme  assault — to  challenge  the  last 
and  supreme  mystery — defy  the  last  and  supreme  force. 
And  the  church  may  gird  itself  for  the  conflict !  As  the 
Pope  has  said,  "  It  is  no  longer  a  rebel  that  threatens  the 
church.  It  is  a  belligerent !  "  It  is  no  longer  a  shading  of 
creed.  It  is  the  upsettal  of  all  creeds  that  is  attempted. 

It  is  impossible  to  conceive  the  misery  and  the  blindness 
that  will  come  in  the  wake  of  the  spreading  atheism.  The 
ancients  witnessed  the  fall  of  a  hundred  creeds,  but  still 
had  a  hundred  left.  The  vast  mystery  of  life  hung  above 
them,  but  was  lit  with  religions  that  were  sprinkled  as  stars 
in  its  depths.  From  a  host  of  censers  was  their  air  made 
rich  with  fragrance,  and  warmed  from  a  field  of  altars.  No 
loss  was  irreparable.  But  with  us  it  is  different.  We  have 
reached  the  end.  Destroy  our  one  belief  and  we  are  left 
hopeless,  helpless,  blind.  Our  air  will  be  odorless,  chill, 
colorless.  Huxley,  the  leader  of  the  positivists,  himself 
confesses — I  quote  from  memory:  "Never,  in  the  history 
of  man,  has  a  calamity  so  terrific  befallen  the  race,  as  this 
advancing  deluge,  black  with  destruction,  uprooting  our 


Hi;.\KY    \v.   <;I:ADY, 

must  cherished  hopes,  engnlling  our  most  precious  creed, 
and  burying  our  highest  life  in  mindless  desolation."  And 
yet  Mr.  IIu\l<-y  urges  on  this  deluge  \\ilh  furious  energy. 
Tin-  aggressiveness  of  tin-  atheists  is  inexplicable  to  inc. 
\Vliy  they  should  Insist  on  destroying  a  system  thai  is  pun- 
and  ennobling,  when  they  have  nothing  to  replace  it  with  ; 
why  ihey  should  shatt'-ra  faith  that  colors  life,  only  to 
leave  it  colorless;  why  they  should  rob  life  of  all  that 
makes  life  worth  living  ;  why  they  should  take  away  tin; 
consolation  that  lifts  men  and  women  from  the  despair  of 
bereavement,  and  desolation,  or  the  light  that  guides  tin- 
feet  of  struggling  humanity,  or  the  hope  that  robs  even 
the  grave  of  its  terror, — why  they  should  do  all  this,  and 
then  stand  empty-handed  and  unresponsive  before  the 
yearning  and  supplicating  people  they  have  stripped  of  all 
that  is  precious,  is  more  than  1  can  understand.  The  best 
atheist,  to  my  mind,  that  I  ever  knew,  was  one  who  sent 
his  children  to  a  convent  for  their  education.  "I  cannot 
lift  the  blight  of  unbelief  from  my  own  mind,"  he  said, 
"but  it  shall  never  fall  upon  the  minds  of  my  children  if  I 
can  help  it.  As  for  me,  I  would  give  all  I  have  on  earth  for 
the  old  faith  that  I  wore  so  lightly  and  threw  off  so  care- 
lessly." 

The  practical  effects  of  the  growth  of  atheism  are  too 
terrible  to  contemplate.  A  vessel  on  an  unknown  sea  that 
has  lost  its  rudder  and  is  tossed  in  a  storm — that's  the  r 
picture.  It  will  not  do  for  Mr.  Ingersoll  to  say  that  a 
purely  human  code  of  right  and  wrong  can  be  established 
to  which  the  passions  of  men  can  be  anchored  and  from 
which  they  can  swing  with  safety.  It  will  not  do  for  him 
to  cite  his  own  correct  life  or  the  correct  lives  of  the  skepti- 
cal scientists,  or  of  leading  skeptics,  as  proof  that  unbelief 
does  not  bring  license.  These  men  are  held  to  decency  by 
a  pride  of  position  and  by  a  sense  of  special  responsibility. 
It  is  the  masses  that  atheism  will  demoralize  and  debauch. 
It  is  thousands  of  simple  men  and  women,  who,  loosed 
of  the  one  Restraint  that  is  absolute  and  imperious, 
will  drift  upon  the  current  of  their  passions,  colliding 


HIS    I. in:,     WKITINiiS,     AM)    SI'KKCII  23.*) 

V 

everywhere,  and  bringing  confusion  and  ruin.  The  vastly 
greatest  influence  that  religion  has  exercised,  as  far  as  the 
world  goes,  has  been  the  conservative  pressure  that  it  has 
put  upon  the  bulk  of  the  people,  who  are  outside  of  the 
church.  With  the  pressure  barely  felt  and  still  less 
acknowledged,  it  has  preserved  the  integrity  of  society, 
kept  the  dangerous  instincts  within  bounds,  repressed  sav- 
agery, and  held  the  balance.  Conscience  has  dominated 
men  who  never  confessed  even  to  themselves  its  power,  and 
the  dim,  religious  memories  of  childhood,  breathing  imper- 
ceptibly over  long  wastes  of  sin  and  brutality,  have  dis- 
solved clouds  of  passion  in  the  souls  of  veterans.  Atheism 
will  not  work  its  full  effect  on  this  class  of  men.  Even 
after  they  have  murdered  conscience  by  withholding  the 
breath  upon  which  it  lives,  its  ghost  will  grope  through 
the  chambers  of  their  brain,  menacing  and  terrible,  and  to 
the  last,— 

Creeping  on  a  broken  wing 
Through  cells  of  madness,  haunts  of  horror  and  fear  ! 

It  is  on  the  young  men  and  women — the  generation  bred 
in  the  chill  atmosphere  of  unbelief — that  atheism  will  do 
its  worst.  With  no  traditions  in  which  to  guide  their 
faith,  no  altar  before  which  they  can  do  reverence,  no  ideal 
to  which  their  eyes  can  turn,  no  standard  lofty  enough  to 
satisfy,  or  steadfast  enough  to  assure — with  no  uplifting 
that  is  not  limited,  no  aspiration  that  has  wings,  and  no 
enthusiasm  that  is  not  absurd — with  life  but  a  fever  that 
kindles  in  the  cradle  and  dies  in  the  grave, — truly  atheism 
meets  youth  with  a  dread  prospect,  sullen,  storm-swept, 
hopeless. 

In  the  conflict  that  is  coming,  the  church  is  impreg- 
nable, because  the  church  is  right ;  because  it  is  founded 
on  a  rock.  The  scientists  boast  that  they  have  evolved 
everything  logically  from  the  first  particles  of  matter  ;  that 
from  the  crystal  rock  to  sentient  man  is  a  steady  way, 
marked  by  natural  gradations.  They  even  say  that,  if  a 
new  bulk  were  thrown  off  from  the  sun  to-morrow  it  would 
spin  into  the  face  of  the  earth,  and  the  same  development 


1IK.NRY     W.    <.!:.\I»V, 

that  has  crowned  the  earth  with  lift-  would  take  place  in 
the  new  world.  And  yet  Tyndall  says:  "  \\V  hav 
haiisted  physics,  ami  reached  its  very  rim.  and  yet  a  mighty 
mystery  lo<.ms  up  before,  og."  And  this  mystery  is  the 
kindling  of  the  atoms  of  the  brain  with  tin-  vital  spark. 
There  science  is  baffled,  for  there  is  the  supreme  force  that 
is  veiled  eternally  from  the  vision  of  man. 

The  church  is  not  bound  to  the  technicalities  of  argu- 
ment in  this  contest.  It  has  the  perfect  right  to  say,  and 
say  logically,  that  something  must  rest  on  faith — that  there 
in  list  be  something  in  the  heart  or  soul  before  conviction 
can  be  made  perfect.  Just  as  we  cannot  impress  with  the 
ecstacies  and  transports  of  earthly  love  a  man  who  has 
never  loved,  or  paint  a  rainbow  to  a  man  who  has  never 
seen.  And  yet  the  time  has  passed  when  religion  can  dis- 
miss the  skeptic  with  a  shriek  or  a  sneer.  I  read  one  little 
book  a  year  ago,  gentle,  firm,  decisive  ;  a  book  that  demon- 
strated the  necessity  and  existence  of  the  Supreme  Being, 
as  clearly  and  as  closely  as  a  mathematical  proposition  was 
worked  out.  But  the  strength  of  the  church  is,  after  all, 
the  high-minded  consistency  of  its  members ;  the  warmth 
and  earnestness  of  its  evangelism  ;  the  purity  and  gentle- 
ness of  its  apostles.  If  the  creeds  are  put  at  peace,  and 
every  man  who  wears  the  Christian  armor  will  go  forth  to 
plead  the  cause  of  the  meek  and  lowly  Nazarene,  whose 
love  steals  into  the  heart  of  man  as  the  balm  of  flowers  into 
the  pulses  of  a  summer  evening — then  we  shall  see  the 
hosts  of  doubt  and  skepticism  put  to  rout. 

Of  course  I  have  no  business  to  write  all  this.  It  is  the 
province  of  the  preachers  to  talk  of  these  things,  and  many 
no  doubt  will  resent  as  impertinent  even  the  suggestion  of 
a  worldling.  And  yet  it  seems  so  sure  to  me  that  in  the 
swift  and  silent  marshaling  of  the  hosts  of  unbelief  and 
irreligion  there  is  presaged  the  supremest  test  that  the 
faith  of  Christians  has  ever  undergone,  that  I  felt  impelled 
to  write.  There  are  men,  outside  of  the  active  workers  of 
the  church,  who  have  all  reverence  for  its  institutions  and 
love  for  its  leaders ;  whose  hearts  are  stirred  now  and  then 


HIS    LIFE,    WIMTIXCS.     AND    SPEECH  237 

by  a  faitli  caught  at  a  mother's  knee,  or  the  memory  of 
some  rapt  and  happy  moment ;  who  want  to  live,  if  not  in 
the  fold  of  the  chosen,  at  least  in  the  shadow  of  the 
Christian  sentiment,  and  among  the  people  dominated  by 
Christian  faitli ;  and  who  hope  to  die  at  last,  in  the  same 
trust  and  peace  that  moved  the  dying  Shakespeare — wisest, 
sweetest  mind  ever  clothed  in  mortal  flesh — when  he  said: 
"  I  commend  my  soul  into  the  hands  of  God,  my  Creator, 
hoping  and  assuredly  believing,  through  the  only  merits  of 
Jesus  Christ,  my  Saviour,  to  be  made  partaker  of  life  ever- 
lasting." 


IIKNKY     \V.    (illADV, 


ON  THE  OCEAN   WAVE. 


AN  AMATEUR'S  EXPERIENCE  ON  A  STEAMSHIP. 


A  VERY  TALL  STORY. — THE  FIKST  IMPRESSIONS. — A  SIDE 
VI  KW  OF  SKA-SICKNESS. — THE  SIGHT  OF  THE  OCEAN. — 
LAND  AT  LAST  AND  GLAD  OF  IT. 


[SPECIAL  CORRESPONDENCE  OF  THE  COURIER.] 

PHILADELPHIA,  Feb.  20,  1876. — The  ocean  is  a  greatly 
exaggerated  affair.  About  four  years  ago,  my  friend 
Charles  I.  Graves  and  myself  were  sitting  on  a  country 
fence,  in  Floyd  County,  after  the  manner  of  lizards,  drink- 
ing in  the  snnshine,  when  a  wagon  containing  a  small  box 
wheeled  past  us.  It  had  hardly  got  abreast  us  when  my 
friend  dropped  from  his  comfortable  perch  as  if  he  AV-IV 
shot,  and  rushed  to  the  wagon.  Then  ensued  a  remarka- 
ble scene.  You  have  all  seen  a  well-bred  country  dog  meet 
a  city  dog  on  some  green  highway.  You  know  with  what 
hurried  circumspection  he  smells  the  stranger  at  all  points. 
So  did  my  friend  approach  the  little  square  box  on  the 
wagon.  He  sniffed  at  it  as  if  "he  would  draw  his  soul 
through  his  nose."  I  examined  the  ugly  little  box  closely. 
It  was  marked 

To  MR.  BERCKMANS, 

MONT  ALTO,  NEAR  RO:M  i:. 

GA.,  U.S.A 

It  was  Rhenish  wine  shipped  from  Pai  N. 

My  friend  explained  to  me,  after  his  rhapsody  was  over, 
that  the  box  having  been  brought  across  the  ocean  in  the 
hold  of  a  steamer,  retained  n  subtle  scent  of  bilge-water, 
that  brought  the  sea  wit  hall  its  dangerous  fascination  back 


HIS    LIFE,     \VRITI. \;iS,    AND     SPIWJI  KS. 

to  him — he  having  served  all  his  young  life  before  the  mast. 
He  was,  at  this  writing,  a  plain,  staid  farmer,  con! cut 
among  his  cattle  and  clover.  And  yet  that  sharp,  briny, 
saline  flavor,  thrown  on  the  bosom  of  the  still  country 
breeze,  put  a  restless  devil  in  his  breast.  It  was  as  if  a 
born  gallant,  exiled  for  a  decade  to  the  heart  of  some  des- 
ert, should,  near  the  expiration  of  his  sentence,  stumble 
upon  a  cambric  handkerchief,  redolent  with  the  perfume 
of  a  lady's  boudoir.  In  less  than  two  years  after  the  sight 
or  rather  the  smell  of  that  box  my  friend  had  sold  his  plan- 
tation, convinced  his  wife,  and  gone  to  the  ocean  again. 
Had  Dr.  Berckmans  been  content  to  drink  native  wine, 
Mr.  Graves  would  yet  be  alternating  cotton  with  clover,  in 
the  peaceful  valley  of  the  Etowah. 

After  this  strong  proof  of  the  fascination  that  the  sea 
has  for  its  votaries,  I  achieved  a  strong  desire  to  try  it  for 
myself.  It  renewed  in  my  mature  days  the  wild  ambition 
that  put  turmoil  into  my  schoolboy  life,  after  I  had  read 
"  Lafitte,  or  the  Pirate  of  the  Gulf." 

I  have  longed  for  many  a  day  to  run  a  "gore"  into 
each  leg  of  my  pantaloons,  roll  back  my  collar,  tousle  my 
hair,  fold  my  cloak  about  my  shoulders,  and  stand  before 
the  mast  in  a  stiff  breeze,  and  there  read  Byron  with  one 
eye,  and  with  the  other  watch  the  effect  of  the  tableau  on 
the  female  passengers. 

I  never  had  a  chance  to  gratify  the  desire  until  lately.  I 
never  saw  the  ocean  until  the  trip  that  results  in  this  let- 
ter ;  I  shall  never  forget  the  impression  it  made  on  me. 

I  had  imagined  that  it  would  be  a  moment  of  ecstacy. 
I  had  believed  that  my  soul,  in  the  glad  recognition  of 
something  as  infinite,  as  illimitable  as  itself,  would  laugh 
with  joy,  and  leap  to  my  lips,  and  burn  in  my  lingers,  and 
tingle  in  my  veins.  I  wisely  reserved  the  first  sight  until 
we  had  steamed  out  beyond  the  laud,  and  then  with  the 
air  of  one  who  unchains  himself,  I  raised  my  head  and 
looked  out  to  the  future.  There,  as  far  as  the  eye  could 
reach,  aye,  and  way  beyond,  as  if  mocking  the  finitenoss  of 
sight,  stretched  the  blue  waters.  Ah  !  how  my  fine-spun 


-JIM  MKNItV     W.    OKA  MY, 

fancies  crumbled  ami  ("inn-  tumbling  hack  on  me  iii  dire, 
confusion  !  My  soul  li;rr;illy  shriveled  !  My  very  imagi- 
nation was  cowed  ;m.l  driven  to  its  corner,  and  1  sat  there, 
dninl)  and  I  rambling  ! 

No  tenant  of  a  cradle  was  ever  more  simple  or  more  trust- 
ing than  I  became  at  that  moment.  I  literally  rejoiced  in 
the  abrogation  of  all  the  pride  and  manliness  that  1  had 
boasted  of  two  hours  before.  I  flung  away  my  sell' depend- 
ence, and  my  soul  ran  abashed  into  the  hollow  of  His  hand, 
even  as  a  frightened  child  runs  to  its  father's  arms.  As  I 
looked  shuddering  upon  the  vast  and  restless  waste  of 
waters  in  front  of  me,  I  felt  as  if  some  person  had  taken 
me  to  the  confines  of  that  time  which  human  calculation 
can  compass,  and  holding  me  on  the  chill  edge  of  that  gulf 
called  the  Eternal,  had  asked  me  to  translate  its  meaning, 
and  pronounce  its  uttermost  boundary. 

I  suppose  the  truth  of  the  matter  is  that  I  was  about 
scared  to  death ;  certain  it  is  that  I  crouched  there  for 
hours,  trembling,  and  yet  gazing  out  beyond  me  upon  the 
lapping  waters,  from  where  they  parted  before  our  ship  to 
where  they  curled  up  against  the  half -consenting  sky  !  At 
last  I  arose,  shook  myself,  as  if  throwing  off  some  night- 
mare, and  sought  the  crowd  again. 

I  can  never  forget  how  dissonant  and  inopportune  the 
flippant  conversation  of  the  voyagers  seemed  to  me  to  be 
at  that  time.  It  was  as  if  some  revelers  should  jest  and 
shout  in  a  great  church.  With  the  awful  abyss  in  front, 
and  these  prattlers  to  the  rear,  one  had  the  two  extremes. 
There  was  God  in  the  deep  and  awful  stillness  ahead,  and 
the  world  behind  in  the  chatter  and  gayety  that  rang  out 
"  like  a  man's  cracked  laughter  heard  way  down  in  hell." 

The  first  man's  voice  that  I  heard,  as  I  turned  away  from 
the  solemn  hush  of  the  Eternal  that  yawned  before  us,  was 
that  of  a  young  fellow  who  remarked  to  his  chum  rhapso- 
dically  (evidently  alluding  to  some  female  acquaintance), 
"  Why,  she  had  a  leg  on  her  like  a  government  mule." 
These  words  bit  into  my  memory  as  if  they  were  cut 
there  by  white-hot  pincers. 


HIS    LIFK,     WUITI  N(JS.     A  \I>     Sl'KKCHES.  241 

HOW   SEA-SICK  XKSS    WORKS. 

I  believe  I  have  said  somewhere  in  this  letter  that 
my  soul  didn't  leap  to  my  lips  when  I  went  out  to  meet 
the  ocean.  I  regret  to  say  that  my  breakfast  did.  I  do 
not  know  whether  any  writer  has  addressed  himself  to 
sea-sickness.  I  am  certain  that  no  writer  of  sacred  or  pro- 
fane literature  can  do  it  sufficient  injustice.  Walt  Whit- 
man might  do  it.  He's  better  on  the  yawp  than  any  poet 
I  know.  Never  tell  me  again  that  hell  is  a  lake  of  fire  and 
brimstone.  Eternal  punishment  means  riding  on  a  rough 
sea,  in  a  steamer  that  don't  roll  well,  without  a  copper- 
bottomed  stomach,  and  a  self-acting  stop-valve  in  the 
throat.  To  have  been  jostled  about  in  a  lake  of  fire  would 
have  been  real  cheerful  business  compared 'to  the  unutter- 
able anguish  that  I  suffered  for  three  days.  I  do  believe 
that  if  I  had  tied  a  cannon-ball  to  a  crumb  of  bread  and 
swallowed  them  both,  the  crumb  would  have  come  prancing 
to  the  front  again,  and  brought  the  cannon-ball  with  it.  It 
at  last  became  a  sort  of  dismal  joke  to  send  any  thing  down. 
But  this  was  not  what  made  it  so  hard  to  bear.  It  was  the 
abject  degradation  that  it  brought  upon  me.  The  absolute 
prostration  of  every  mental,  moral  and  physical  activity, 
of  every  emotion,  impulse  and  ambition  ;  the  reduction  of 
a  system  that  boasted  of  some  nervous  power  and  of  excess- 
sive  tone,  to  the  condition  of  a  wet  dish-clout, — these  were 
the  things  that  made  sea-sickness  a  misery  beyond  the 
power  of  words.  For  three  days  I  lay  like  an  old  volcano, 
still,  desolate  and  haggard  ;  but  with  an  exceedingly  active 
crater.  I  was  brought  to  that  condition  which  Chesterfield 
says  is  the  finest  pitch  to  which  a  gentleman  can  be  brought, 
that  sublime  pitch  of  indifference  that  enables  him  to  hear 
of  the  loss  of  an  estate,  or  a  poodle  dog,  with  the  same  feel- 
ing. Nothing  disturbs  the  man  who  is  sea-sick.  He  blinks 
in  the  face  of  disaster,  and  yawps  at  death  itself.  Henctu- 
ally  longs  for  sensation.  To  stick  him  with  a  pin,  or  drop 
ice  down  his  back,  would  be  a  mercy.  He  spraddles  madly 
over  the  ship,  flabbing  himself  like  a  inollusk  over  every- 


III;M:V    w. 


lie  stumbles  on,  and  knows  not  night  or  morning. 
As  far  :is  I  was  concerned,  I  was  seized  with  a  yawning 
that  came  very  near  proving  fatal.  I  was  taken  with  a 
longing  to  turn  myself  wrong-side  outwards,  and  hang  my- 
self on  the  talTrail.  Several  times  I  was  on  the  point  of 
doing  it  ;  but  I  struggled  against  it  and  saved  myself. 

THE  SIGHTS   OF  THE  SEA. 

The  "sights  "  of  the  sea  are  not  what  they  are  cracked 
up  to  be.  Some  writer,  Lowell,  I  believe,  who  was  seduced 
into  going  seaward,  had  a  sovereign  contempt  for  every- 
ihiug  connected  with  the  sea.  With  a  charming  abandon, 
he  says,  "A  whale  looks  like  a  brown  paper  parcel  —  the 
Avhite  stripes  down  his  back  resembling  the  pack-thread." 
It  is  not  hard  to  bring  everything  down  to  this  standard. 

The  very  motion  of  the  waves,  the  cause  of  rhymes 
unnumbered,  becomes  terribly  monotonous  after  the  first 
day  or  two.  The  rise  and  relapse  of  the  tinted  water 
glistening  in  the  sun,  and  blooming  lilies  on  the  wave-cres't, 
is  a  pretty  enough  sight  at  first  ;  but  before  long  one  longs 
to  shiver  the  surface  of  the  deep,  and  calm  its  eternal  rest- 
lessness. The  waves,  wriggling  up  like  a  woman's  regrets 
from  nowhere,  come  dragging  themselves  over  the  weary 
waste,  and,  plashing  back  upon  each  other,  spring  off  on 
another  uneasy  remonstrance,  until  the  brain  of  the  looker- 
on  is  actually  addled.  I  would  have  given  a  great  deal  to 
have  had  the  power  to  have  settled  the  upheaving  waters 
for  one  hour,  just  as  a  schoolboy  has  the  power,  and  the 
inclination,  too,  to  break  the  inexorable  calm  of  a  mill-pond 
by  splashing  it  with  rocks.  Nothing  tires  us  like  sameness  ; 
sameness,  inactivity,  is  intolerable. 

We  saw  some  flying-iish.  And  we  saw,  what  I  valued 
much  more,  on  board  with  us  a  man  who  knew  a  man  whose 
cousin  had  seen  the  great  sea-serpent.  I  have  a  great 
respect  for  a  man  who  knows  somebody  that  has  seen  the 
•rpent.  He  is  a  link  between  us  and  the  supernatural 
in  the  ocean.  He  is  a  relic,  stranded  by  the  shore  of  science, 
of  that  world  of  wonders  that  began  with  the  syrens,  was 


HIS   LIKE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  243 

modernized  with  the  mermaids,  and  that  ends  in  the  devil- 
fish and  sea-serpent.  While  he  lives  I  want  to  be  near  him. 
When  he  dies  I  want  his  tooth  set  on  my  mantel-piece  ;  it 
will  be  a  sort  of  guarantee,  under  which  I  can  read  the 
weird  stories  of  the  old,  unexplored  ocean,  that  made  boy- 
hood joyous.  Give  me  the  sea-serpent  as  a  fact,  and  I  will 
swear  to  the  mermaids,  bet  on  the  phantom  ship,  and  pin 
my  faith  to  the  syrens. 

THE   LOVERS   AND   THE   PILOT. 

The  intercourse  between  the  passengers  was  not  pleasant. 
We  got  tired  of  each  other.  The  fact  that  none  of  us  could 
get  on  or  off,  gave  us  a  sort  of  feeling  that  we  were  prison- 
ers ;  or,  when  locked  up  at  night  in  our  berths,  that  we 
were  animals  traveling  in  the  same  menagerie  ;  brought 
together  by  chance,  and  held  together  through  necessity. 

There  was  one  couple  on  board  that  won  my  attention. 
It  was  a  man,  full-grown,  handsome  and  accomplished,  but 
with  the  deep  furrows  in  his  brow  that  always  come  after 
a  man  has  wrestled  with  the  world ;  and  the  girl  not  more 
than  fifteen  years  of  age.  The  girl  had  not  worn  off  the 
subtle  bloom  of  childhood  that  gave  her  grace  and  glow,  as 
the  dew-chrism  of  early  dawn  graces  the  lily.  She  was  not 
beautiful,  after  the  approved  models,  but  there  was  an 
elastic  freshness,  a  bright  charm  that  would  have  put 
beauty  to  the  blush.  She  was  brimming  with  the  splendid 
and  tender  divinity  that  fills  the  odorous  buds  just  before 
they  burst  into  life's  beauty.  She  was  full  of  spring.  She 
carried  its  balms  about  with  her,  its  aroma  hung  about  her 
skirts,  and  its  auroral  light  illuminated  her  very  being. 
She  was  April,  with  all  its  joys  and  all  its  happy  tears — its 
dear  restlessness,  and  its  thrills.  I  marveled  to  see  how 
the  man  of  affairs  loved  her.  It  annoyed  me  to  see  how 
this  man,  with  all  his  vast  concerns,  his  rugged  schemes,  his 
vaulting  ambition,  bowed  down  at  the  feet  of  a  child.  It 
was  a  very  miracle  of  love  that  centered  all  the  impulses, 
aspirations,  hopes,  and  endeavors  of  this  man  of  the  world 
in  a  bright  slip  of  a  girl.  She  understood  her  power,  too  ; 


244  HKNKY    \v.   <. I:\DV, 

and  taking  the  reins  of  affairs  in  her  little  fingers,  carried 
herself  with  a  ]>r"tt y  impt-riousness.  Not  always  was  she 
mistress,  though.  Once  in  awhile  I  noticed,  wln-n  he  held 
herbeneatli  his  words,  her  eyes  softened  and  fell,  and  she 
sat  half  absorbed  and  trembling,  thrilling  nnd<-i  an  ecstacy 
that  stirred  her  soul  to  its  very  depths,  and  yet  left  her 
unconscious  of  what  it  meant  or  from  what  it  canp 
watched  this  couple  with  a  strange  interest,  and  my  h<-art 
went  out  to  the  child.  But  beyond  this  there  \vas  nothing 
interesting  on  shipboard.  The  people  were  all  tame.  They 
seemed  to  have  been  planted  on  the  ship,  and  grown  there. 
They  were  all  indigenous  ;  and  hence,  when  the  pilot — a 
breezy  fellow,  by  the  way — jumped  on  board  just  outside  of 
New  York,  he  brought  with  him  the  charm  of  a  rare  exotic, 
and  actually  acquired  a  sort  of  game  flavor,  by  being  a 
stranger. 

SOME   CONCLUSIONS   NOT  JUMPED   AT. 

Altogether,  a  trip  on  the  ocean  is  a  very  great  bore.  It 
does  not  compare  to  the  cozy  and  bustling  comforts  of  an 
inland  trip,  especially  if  one  have  the  benefits  of  a  Pull- 
man. 

The  ocean  is  meant  to  be  looked  at  and  enjoyed — from 
the  shore,  or  through  books.  You  may  see  more  of  it  by 
going  on  board  a  ship.  It  is  pretty  apt  to  see  more  of  you, 
though,  than  you  do  of  it.  There  are  many  moments  dur- 
ing the  first  clay  or  two,  when,  leaning  over  the  taflfrail, 
you  yawp  into  its  face,  that  it  can  see  clear  through  to  your 
boots.  That's  the  way  it  was  with 

JOHN,  JR. 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND    SPEECHES.  245 


TWO  MEN  WHO  HAVE  THRILLED  THE  STATE. 


AN  ACCIDENTAL  MEETING  ON  THE  STREET,  IN  WHICH  TWO 
GREAT  MEN  ARE  RECOGNIZED  AS  THE  TYPES  OF  TWO 
CLASHING  THEORIES  —  TOOMBS'S  SUCCESSES  —  BROWN  's 
JUDGMENT. 


other  day  I  saw  two  men  meet  on  the  street,  bow 
-L  cordially,  and  pass.  I  was  struck  by  the  contrast 
between  them  —  by  the  difference  in  their  walk,  appearance 
and  manner.  This  suggested  that  the  contrast  in  their  lives, 
in  their  lineage  and  their  methods,  was  even  greater  than 
their  physical  make-up.  And  then,  forgetting  for  the  mo- 
ment that  a  gubernatorial  campaign  of  great  fierceness  was 
raging,  I  fell  to  wondering  if  there  had  ever  been  two  mas- 
terful men  whose  paths  lay  near  each  other,  and  whose  per- 
formance was  so  nearly  equal,  who  had  been  born  in  such  dis- 
similar conditions,  and  moved  by  such  dissimilar  motives. 
Joe  Brown  and  Bob  Toombs  !  Both  illustrious  and  great  — 
both  powerful  and  strong  —  and  yet  at  every  point,  and 
from  every  view,  the  perfect  opposites  of  each  other. 

Through  two  centuries  have  two  strains  of  blood,  two 
conflicting  lines  of  thought,  two  separate  theories  of  social, 
religious  and  political  life,  been  working  out  the  two  types 
of  men,  which  have  in  our  day  flowered  into  the  perfection 
of  contrast  —  vivid,  thorough  pervasive.  For  seven  genera- 
tions the  ancestors  of  Joe  Brown  have  been  aggressive 
rebels  ;  for  a  longer  time  the  Toombs  have  been  dauntless 
and  intolerant  followers  of  the  king  and  kingliness.  At 
the  siege  of  Londonderry  —  the  most  remarkable  fasting 
match  beyond  Tanner  —  Margaret  and  James  Brown,  grand- 
parents of  the  James  Brown  who  came  to  America  and  was 
grandparent  of  Joe  Brown,  were  within  the  walls  starving 


IIK.NKV     \V.    <.  i:\DY, 

and  fighting  for  William  and  Mary  ;  and  I  have  no  doubt 
there  were  hard-riding  Toombs  outside  the  walls  char.u-in.ir 
in  the  name  of  the  pr.-vish  and  unhappy  .lames.  (Vi  tain  it 
is  that  forty  years  before,  the  direct  ancestors  of  General 
Toombs  on  the  Toombs  estate  were  hiding  ^-od  King 
Charles  in  the  oak  at  Boscabe],  where,  1  have  no  doubt,  the 
fat  her  and  uncles  of  the  Londonderry  Brown,  with  cropped 
hair  and  severe  mien,  were  proguing  about  the  place  with 
their  pikes,  searching  every  bush,  in  the  name  of  Cromwell 
and  the  psalm-singers.  From  these  initial  points  sprang 
the  two  strains  of  blood — the  one  affluent,  impetuous,  prodi- 
gal, the  other  slow,  resolute,  forceful.  From  these  ances- 
tors came  the  two  men — the  one  superb,  ruddy,  fashioned 
with  incomparable  grace  and  fulness;  the  other  pale, 
thoughtful,  angular,  stripped  down  to  bone  and  sinew. 
I'Yom  these  opposing  theories  came  the  two  types — the  one 
patrician,  imperious,  swift  in  action  and  brooking  no  stay; 
the  other  democratic,  sagacious,  jealous  of  rights  and  sub- 
mit ting  to  no  imposition.  The  one  for  the  king  ;  the  other 
for  the  people.  It  does  not  matter  that  the  elder  Toombs 
was  a  rebel  in  Virginia  against  the  fat  George,  for  that 
revolt  was  kingly  of  itself,  and  the  Virginian  cavaliers  went 
into  it  with  love-locks  flying  and  care  cast  to  the  winds, 
feeling  little  of  the  patient  spirit  of  James  Brown,  who,  by 
his  Carolina  fireside,  fashioned  his  remonstrance  slowly, 
and  at  last  put  his  life  upon  the  issue. 

Governor  Brown  and  General  Toombs  started  under  cir- 
cumstances in  accordance  wi£h  the  suggestions  of  the  fore- 
going. General  Toombs' s  father  had  a  fine  estate,  given 
him  by  the  State  of  Georgia,  and  his  son  had  a  fine  educa- 
tion and  started  in  life  in  liberal  trim.  Governor  Brown 
had  nothing,  and  for  years  hauled  wood  to  Dahlonega ; 
and  sold  vegetables  from  a  basket  to  the  hotel  and  what 
others  would  buy.  Young  Toombs  made  money  rapidly, 
his  practice  for  the  first  five  years  amounting  to  much  over 
>O<  ),000.  He  conquered  by  the  grace  of  his  genius,  and 
went  easily  from  triumph  to  triumph.  Young  Brown 
moved  ahead  laboriously  but  steadily.  He  made  only 


HIS    LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND    SPEECH  IS.  241 

about  $1200  his  first  year,  and  then  pushed  his  practice  to 
82000  or  $3000.  He  made  no  brilliant  reputat  ion,  but  never 
lost  a  client,  .and  added  to  his  income  and  practice.  His 
progress  was  the  result  of  hard  labor  and  continuous  work. 
He  lived  moderately  and  his  habits  were  simple.  General 
Toombs  has  lived  in  princely  style  all  his  life,  and  has 
always  been  fond  of  wine  and  cards.  Both  men  are  rich, 
and  both  are  well  preserved  for  their  time  of  life.  Gen«-nil 
Toombs  is  seventy-one  and  Governor  Brown  fifty-nine. 
Each  had  a  lucky  stroke  early  in  life,  and  in  both  cases 
it  was  in  a  land  investment.  General  Toombs  bought 
immense  tracts  of  Texas  land,  of  which  he  has  sold  per- 
haps $100,000  profit  and  still  holds  enough  to  yield  double 
or  treble  that  much  more.  Governor  Brown,  when  very 
young,  paid  $450  for  a  piece  of  land,  and  afterward  sold 
a  half  interest  in  a  copper  mine  thereon  for  825,000. 
This  he  invested  in  farms,  and  thus  laid  the  basis  of  his 
fortune. 

The  first  time  these  men  met  was  in  Milledgeville,  in 
1851  or  '52,  when  Governor  Brown  was  a  young  Democratic 
State  Senator  and  General  Toombs  was  a  Whig  Congress- 
man— then  the  idol  of  his  party  and  the  most  eloquent  man 
in  Georgia.  They  were  then  just  such  men  physically  as 
one  who  had  never  seen  them  would  imagine  from  read- 
ing their  lives.  General  Toombs  was,  as  Governor  Brown 
has  told  me,  "the  handsomest  man  he  ever  saw."  His 
physique  was  superb,  his  grand  head  fit  for  a  crown,  his 
presence  that  of  a  king,  overflowing  with  vitality,  his 
majestic  face  illumined  with  his  divine  genius.  Governor 
Brown  was  then  pallid,  uncomely — his  awkward  frame 
packed  closely  with  nerve  and  sinew,  and  fed  with  a 
temperate  flow  of  blood.  They  met  next  at  Marietta,  where 
Toombs  had  a  fiery  debate  with  that  rare  master  of  dis- 
cussion, the  late  Robert  Co  wart.  Governor  Brown  was 
deeply  impressed  with  the  power  and  genius  of  that  won- 
derful man,  but  General  Toombs  thought  but  little  of  the 
awkward  young  mountaineer.  For  later,  when  in  Texas, 
hearing  that  Joe  Brown  was  nominated  for  Governor,  he 


II  i:\KY     W. 

did  not  even  remember  his  name,  and  had  to  ask  a  Georgia- 
Texan  "  who  I  he  devil  it    was." 

Hut  the  next  time  he  met  him  he  remembered  it.  Of 
course  we  all  remember  when  the  "  Know-Nothings  "  took 
possession  of  the  Whig  party,  and  Toombs  and  Stephens 
seceded.  Stephens  having  a  campaign  right  on  him,  and 
being  pressed  to  locate  himself,  said  he  \\as  neither  Whig 
nor  Democrat,  but  "was  toting  his  own  skillet,"  thus 
introducing  that  homely  but  expressive  phrase  into  our 
political  history.  Toombs  was  in  the  Senate  and  had  time 
for  reflection.  It  ended  by  his  marching  into  the  Demo- 
cratic camp.  Shortly  afterward  he  was  astounded  at  see- 
ing the  standard  of  his  party,  upon  the  success  of  which  his 
seat  in  the  Senate  depended,  put  in  the  hands  of  Joe  Brown, 
a  new  campaigner,  while  the  opposition  was  led  by  Ben 
Hill,  then  as  now  an  audacious  and  eloquent  speaker,  in- 
comparable on  the  stump.  Hill  and  Brown  had  had  a  meet- 
ing  at  Athens,  I  believe,  and  it  was  reported  that  Brown 
had  been  worsted.  Howell  Cobb  wrote  Toombs  that  he 
must  take  the  canvass  in  hand  at  once,  at  least  until  Brown 
could  learn  how  to  manage  himself.  Toombs  wrote  to 
Brown  to  come  to  his  home  at  Washington,  which  he  did. 
General  Toombs  told  me  that  he  was  not  hopeful  when  he 
met  the  new  candidate,  but  after  talking  to  him  awhile, 
found  that  he  had  wonderful  judgment  and  sagacity. 
After  coquetting  with  Mr.  Hill  a  while,  they  started  on  a 
tour  together,  going  to  south  Georgia.  General  Toombs 
has  talked  to  me  often  about  this  experience.  He  says  that 
after  two  or  three  speeches  Governor  Brown  was  as  fully 
equipped  as  if  he  had  been  in  public  for  forty  years,  and  he 
was  amazed  at  the  directness  with  which  he  would  get  to 
the  hearts  of  the  masses.  He  talked  in  simple  style,  using 
the  homeliest  phrases,  but  his  words  went  home  every 
time.  There  was  a  sympathy  between  the  speaker  and  the 
people  that  not  even  the  eloquence  of  Toombs  could  empha- 
size, or  the  matchless  skill  of  Mr.  Hill  disturb.  In  Brown 
the  people  saw  one  of  themselves,  lifted  above  them  by  his 
superior  ability,  and  his  unerring  sagacity,  but  talking  to 


HIS    LIFE,     WRITINGS,    AND    SI'KKCH  KS. 

them  common  sense  in  a  sensible  way.  General  Toonihs 
soon  saw  that  the  new  candidate  was  more  than  able  to 
take  care  of  himself,  and  left  him  to  make  his  tour  alone- 
impressed  with  the  fact  that  a  new  element  had  been  intro- 
duced into  our  politics  and  that  a  new  leader  had  arisen. 

It  is  hard  to  say  which  has  been  the  more  successful  of 
the  two  men.  Neither  has  ever  been  beaten  before  the 
people.  General  Toonibs  has  won  his  victories  with  the 
more  ease.  He  has  gone  to  power  as  a  king  goes  to  his 
his  throne,  and  no  one  has  gainsaid  him.  Governor  Brown 
has  had  to  fight  his  way  through.  It  has  been  a  struggle 
all  the  time,  and  he  has  had  to  summon  every  resource  to 
carry  his  point.  Each  has  made  unsurpassed  records  in 
his  departments.  As  Senator,  General  Toombs  was  not 
only  invincible,  he  was  glorious.  As  Governor,  was  not 
only  invincible,  he  was  wise.  General  Toombs' s  campaigns 
have  been  unstudied  and  careless,  and  were  won  by  his 
presence,  his  eloquence,  his  greatness.  His  canvass  was 
always  an  ovation,  his  only  caucusing  was  done  on  the  hust- 
ings. With  Governor  Brown  it  was  different.  He  planned 
his  campaigns  and  then  went  faithfully  through  them. 
His  victories  were  none  the  less  sure,  because  his  canvass 
was  more  laborious.  His  nomination  as  Governor,  while 
unexpected,  was  not  accidental.  It  was  the  inevitable  out- 
come of  his  young  life,  disciplined  so  marvelously,  so  full 
of  thought,  sagacity  and  judgment.  If  he  had  not  been 
nominated  Governor  then,  his  time  would  have  come  at  last, 
just  as  sure  as  cause  produces  result.  His  record  as  Gover- 
nor proves  that  he  was  prepared  for  the  test — just  as  his 
brilliant  record  in  the  Senate  proves  that  he  is  fitted  for 
any  sphere  to  which  he  might  be  called. 

To  sum  it  up  :  Toombs  is  the  embodiment  of  genius,  and 
Brown  is  the  embodiment  of  common  sense.  One  is  bril- 
liant, the  other  unerring  ;  one  is  eloquent,  the  other  sagaci- 
ous. Toombs  moves  by  inspiration  ;  Brown  is  governed  by 
judgment.  The  first  is  superb  ;  the  latter  is  sage.  Des- 
pite the  fact  that  Governor  Brown  is  by  instinct  and  by 
inheritance  a  rebel,  he  is  prudent,  conservative,  and  has  a 


II1.NKV     U  .    <,KAI»V, 

turn  for  building  tilings  up.  General  Toombs,  despite, 
his  love  for  kindliness  and  all  iliat  implies,  lias  an  almost 
savage  instinct  for  overturning  systems  and  tea  rim:  things 
down.  It  must  not  l>e  understood  that  I  depreciate  General 
Toombs's  wisdom.  Genius  often  Hies  as  trim  to  its  mark 
as  judgment  can  go.  The  wisest  speech,  and  the  ablest  ever 
made  by  an  American,  in  my  opinion,  is  Mr.  Toombs's 
speech  on  slavery,  delivered  in  Uoston  about  ten  yean 
before  the  war.  In  that  speech  he  showed  a  prescience 
almost  divine,  and  clad  in  the  light  of  thirty  year>  of  con- 
firmation, it  is  simply  marvelous.  His  leadership  of  the 
southern  Whigs  in  the  House  during  the  contest  of  1850  was 
a  masterpiece  of  brilliancy,  and  even  his  1  la milcar  speech, 
delivered  after  the  most  exasperating  insults,  was  sublime 
in  its  lofty  eloquence  and  courage.  Safer  as  a  leader, 
Governor  Brown  is  more  sagacious  on  material  points — 
truer  to  the  practical  purposes  of  government :  but  no  man 
but  Toombs  could  have  represented  Georgia  as  he  did  for 
the  decade  preceding  I860. 

Messrs.  Brown  and  Toombs  have  disagreed  since  the  war. 
That  Governor  Brown  may  have  been  wiser  in  "recon- 
struction" than  Mr.  Toombs,  many  wise  men  believe,  and 
events  may  have  proved.  In  that  matter  my  heart  was 
with  Mr.  Toombs,  and  I  have  never  seen  reason  to  recall  it. 
That  Governor  Brown  was  honest  and  patriotic  in  his 
advice,  my  knowledge  of  the  man  would  not  permit  me  to 
doubt.  The  trouble  between  these  gentlemen  came  very 
near  resulting  in  a  duel.  While  I  join  with  all  good  men 
that  this  duel  was  arrested,  I  confess  that  I  have  been  wicked 
enough  to  speculate  on  its  probable  result — had  it  occurred. 
In  the  first  place,  General  Toombs  made  no  preparation  for 
the  duel.  He  went  along  in  his  careless  and  kingly  way. 
trusting,  presumably,  to  luck  and  quick  shot.  Governor 
Brown,  on  the  contrary,  made  the  most  careful  and  delib- 
erate preparation.  He  made  his  will,  put  his  estate  in 
order,  withdrew  from  the  church,  and  then  clipped  all  the 
trees  in  his  orchard  practicing  with  the  pistol.  Had  the 
duel  come  off — which  fortunately  it  did  not — General 


HIS   LIFE,    WAITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES. 

Toombs  would  have  fired  with  his  usual  magnificence  and 
his  usual  disregard  of  rule.  I  do  not  mean  to  imply  that 
he  would  not  have  hit  Governor  Brown  ;  on  the  contrary, 
he  might  have  perforated  him  in  a  dozen  places  at  once. 
But  one  thing  is  sure — Governor  Brown  would  have  clasped 
his  long  white  fingers  around  the  pistol  butt,  adjusted  it  to 
his  gray  eye,  and  sent  his  bullet  within  the  eighth  of  an 
inch  of  the  place  he  had  selected.  I  should  not  be  surprised 
if  he  drew  a  diagram  of  General  Toombs,  and  marked  off 
with  square  and  compass  the  exact  spot  he  wanted  to  hit. 

General  Toombs  has  always  been  loose  and  prodigal  in 
his  money  matters.  Governor  Brown  has  been  precise  and 
economical  all  his  life,  and  gives  $50,000  to  a  Baptist 
college — not  a  larger  amount  probably  than  General  Toombs 
has  dispensed  casually,  but  how  much  more  compact  and 
useful !  This  may  be  a  good  fact  to  stop  on,  as  it  furnishes 
a  point  of  view  from  which  the  two  lives  may  be  logically 
surveyed.  TWTO  great  lives  they  are,  illustrious  and  dis- 
tinguished— utterly  dissimilar.  Georgia  could  have  spared 
neither  and  is  jealous  of  both.  I  could  write  of  them 
for  hours,  but  the  people  are  up  and  the  flags  are  flying, 
and  the  journalist  has  no  time  for  moralizing  or  leisurely 
speculation. 


252  JIEM:V   \v.  <;I:ADY, 

"BOB." 

How  AX  OLD  MAN  "COME  HOME." 


A  STORY  WITHOUT  A  MORAL,  PICKED  OUT  OF  A  BUSY  LIFE. 


[WRITTEN  FOK  mi  M  NDAY  GAZETTE.] 

6t  "TTOU  are  the  no-countest,  la/k-st,  nieanestdog  that 
I  over  wore  breeches  !  Never  let  me  see  you  again  !  " 

Thus  Mrs.  Tag  to  Mr.  Tag,  her  husband  ;  she  standing 
in  the  door,  her  arms  akimbo,  and,  cat-like,  spitting  the 
words  at  him. 

Mr.  Tag  made  no  reply.  He  did  not  even  put  up  his 
hands  in  evasion.  He  stood  dazed  and  bewildered,  as  one 
who  hesitates  in  a  sudden  shower,  and  then  turning,  pulled 
his  old  hat  down  over  his  shoulders,  as  if  sh»«  was  throwing 
rocks  at  him  instead  of  words,  and  shambled  off  in  silence. 
quickening  his  retreat  by  a  pitiful  little  jerk,  every  time 
she  launched  a  new  volley  at  him. 

This  she  did  as  often  as  her  brains  could  forge  them  and 
her  tongue  send  them.  She  stood  there,  the  very  picture 
of  fury.  And  at  length,  with  disgust  on  every  feature,  she 
turned,  sprawled  a  weevilly  little  child  that  was  clinging 
to  her  skirts,  and  went  into  the  house. 

As  for  Mr.  Tag,  he  hurried  on,  never  once  looking  back 
until  he  had  reached  a  hill,  against  which  the  sun  was  set- 
ting.  He  then  slowed  up  a  little,  lifted  the  flap  of  his  hat 
cautiously,  as  if  to  be  sure  he  was  out  of  ear- shot— then 
stopped.  He  pulled  off  his  hat,  shook  it  to  and  fro — uncon- 
sciously, I  think — in  his  hand  as  one  who  comes  out  of  the 
storm.  He  looked  about  him  a  while,  as  if  undetermined, 
and  then  browsed  about  vaguely  in  the  sunset,  until  his 
bent,  shambling  figure  seemed  melting  into  the  golden  glory 
that  enveloped  it ;  and  his  round,  chubby  head  was  tipped 
with  light. 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  253 

I  thought  probably  li<>  wanted  to  see  me,  so  I  climbed 
up  the  hill.  He  seemed  to  approve  of  my  coming,  and 
walked  down  in  the  shade  to  meet  me. 

"Ann  was  sorter  rough  to  me,  wan't  she?"  he  said, 
with  a  chuckle  of  deprecation. 

I  assented  quietly  to  the  lack  of  smoothness  in  Ann's 
remarks. 

"You  aint  know'd  me  long,"  he  said,  with  a  sudden 
flicker  of  earnestness ;  "  and  you've  knowed  the  worst  part 
of  me.  You've  knowed  the  trouble  and  the  fag-end.  You 
warn't  in  at  the  good  part  of  my  life  !  " 

I  should  think  not,  poor  fellow.  Ever  since  I  had 
known  him  he  had  been  the  same  shabby,  good-for-nothing 
that  he  is  now.  He  had  grown  a  bit  more  serious  of  late, 
and  his  long  face — it  was  abnormally  long  between  the  eyes 
and  the  chin — had  whitened  somewhat,  but  otherwise  he 
was  about  the  same  shabby,  ragged,  half -starved  old  fellow 
I  had  known  for  a  year  or  so.  Yes,  Bob,  I  had  clearly 
known  the  worst  of  you  ! 

"  I  was  a  better  man  once  ;  not  a  better  man,  either,  as 

I  know  of,  but  I  had  luck.     When  me  and  Ann  married, 
there  warn't  a  happier  couple  nowhere.     I  remember  just 
as  well  when  I  courted  her.     She  didn't  think  about  me 
then  as  she  does  now.     We  had  a  buggy  to  ourselves,  and 
we  turned  down  a  shady  road.     I  fetched  it  on  soon  after 
we  left  the  crowd,  and  she  was  about  as  well  pleased  as 
me.     It  seemed  like  that  road  was  the  road  to  heaven,  and 
we  was  so  happy  that  we  wasn't  in  no  hurry  to  get  to  the 
end  of  it.     Ann  was  handsome  then.     Oh  yes,  she  was  !" 
as  I  winced  at  this, — "  and  at  first  as  good  a  wife  to  me  as 
ever  a  man  had. 

"It  may  a-been  me  that  started  the  trouble.  I  was 
nnfortnit  in  everything  I  touched.  My  fingers  slipped  off 
o'  everything  and  everything  slipped  off  o'  them.  I  could 
get  no  grip  on  nothin'.  I  worked  hard,  but  something 
harder  agin  me.  Ann  was  ambitious  and  uppish,  and  I 

II  SIM  I  to  think  when  I  come  home  at  night,  most  tired  to 
death,  she  was  gettin'  to  despise  me.     She'd  snap  me  up 


III.XKY    W. 

:ind  jilmse  me  till  Mutually  I  WMS  Mfr««iid  to  come  home.  I 
iifvi-r  misused  her  or  give  IMT  :i  l>;ick  word.  I  thought 

IIIMVl)*'  slit'   WMStl't    tO    blnilK'.    Mild     tllMt     wllMt    sll<>   SMJd   MllOllt 

MM*  WMS  true.  Tilings'  kept  a-gitten  worse,  :uid  we  sold  off 
pretty  much  what  we  had.  Five  years  ago  a  big  surprise 
came  to  us.  It  was  a  baby — a  boy — him  ! ' '  nodding  towM  rd 
th«'hut.  "It  was  a  surprise  to  both  of  us.  We'd  1>< •< -n 
married  fourteen  years.  It  made  Ann  harder  on  me  tliMii 
ever.  She  never  let  me  rest ;  it  was  all  the  time  hard  words 
Miid  hard  looks.  I  never  raised  even  a  look  M.irMinst  her,  o' 
course.  I  thought  she  was  right  about  me.  He  never  luid 
a  cross  word  with  me.  Him  and  me  knowed  each  other  from 
the  start.  We  had  a  langwidge  of  our  own.  Ther  wasn'  t  no 
words  in  it — just  looks  and  grunts.  'I  never  could  git 
'nough,  nuther  could  he.  He  know'd  more  an'  me.  Ther 
was  a  kinder  way-off  look  in  his  eyes  that  was  solemn  and 
deep,  I  tell  you.  At  last  Ann  got  to  breaking  me  up. 
Whenever  she  catch  me  with  him  she'd  drive  me  off.  I'd 
always  hurry  off,  'cause  I  never  wanted  him  to  hear  her 
'spressin  herself  'bout  me.  'Feared  like  he  understood 
every  word  of  it.  Mos't  two  years  ago,  and  I  ain't  had  one 
since.  I  couldn't  git  one.  Ann  commenced  takin'  in  WMS]I- 
ing,  and  one  day  she  said  I  shouldn't  hang  around  no  more 
a-eatin'  him  and  her  out  of  house  and  home.  That  WMS 
more'n  a  year  ago,  and  I  seen  him  since  to  talk  to  him. 
Every  time  I  go  about  she  hustles  me  about  like  she  did  to- 
day. I  never  make  no  fuss.  She's  right  about  me,  I 
reckon.  I  am  powerful  no  'count.  But  he  has  stirred 
things  in  me  I  ain't  felt  movin'  for  many  a  year  !  " 

"  What's  his  name,  Bob  ? " 

"Got  none.  She  never  would  let  me  talk  to  her  'bout 
it,  and  I  ain't  got  no  right  to  name  him.  I  ast  her  once 
how  it  would  do  to  call  him  little  Bob,  and  she  said  I  bet- 
ter git  him  sumpin'  to  eat ;  he  couldn't  eat  a  name,  nor 
dress  in  it  neither  ;  which  was  true.  But  he's  got  my  old 
face  on  him,  and  my  look.  I  know  that,  and  he  knows  it 
too." 

"  Did  you  ever  drink,  Bob  ? " 


HIS    MI.'K,     WUITIXCS,     AND     RPEKCIIKS. 

"Me?  Yon  know  I  didn't.  I  did  get  drunk  once.  The 
boys  give  me  the  wine.  They  say  liquor  makes  ;i  man  sav- 
age, and  makes  him  beat  his  wife.  It  didn't  take  me  that 
way.  I  was  the  happiest  fellow  you  ever  see.  I  felt  light 
and  free.  My  blood  w;is  warm,  and  just  jumped  along— 
and  beat  Ann?  why,  all  the  old  love  come  back  to  me,  as  I 
went  to'ards  home,  feelin'  big  as  a  king.  I  made  as  how 
I'd  go  up  to  Ann  and  put  arm  aroun'  her  neck  in  the  old 
way,  and  tell  her  it'  she'd  only  encourage  me  a  little,  I'd 
get  about  for  her  and  him  and  make  'em  both  rich.  I 
couldn't  hardly  wait  to  get  home,  I  was  so  full  of  it.  She 
was  just  settin'  down  a  pail  of  water  when  I  come  in.  I 
made  for  her,  gentle  like,  and  had  just  got  my  arms  to  her 
neck,  when  she  drawed  back,  with  a  few  words  like  them 
this  evening,  and  dosed  the  pail  of  water  full  in  my  face. 
As  I  scrambled  out  o'  the  door,  sorter  blind  like,  I  struck 
the  edge  o'  the  gulley  there,  rolled  down  head  over  heels, 
and  fotch  up  squar'  at  the  bottom,  as  sober  a  man  as  ever 
you  see ! " 

I  met  Bob  a  few  days  after  that  in  a  state  of  effusive 
delight.  He  would  not  disclose  himself  at  first.  He  fol- 
lowed me  through  several  blocks,  and  at  length,  diving 
into  an  alley,  beckoned  me  cautiously  to  him.  He  took 
off  his  old  hat,  always  with  him  a  preliminary  to  conversa- 
tion, and  glancing  cautiously  around,  said  in  a  hoarse 
whisper : 

"  Had  a  pic-nic  to-day." 

"Apic-nic!     Who?" 

"Me  and  him!" 

And  his  wrinkled,  weather-beaten  old  face  was  broken 
by  smiles  and  chuckles,  that  struggled  to  the  surface,  as 
porpoises  do,  and  then  shrunk  back  into  the  depths  from 
whence  they  came. 

"You  don't  know  Phenice— the  neighbor's  gal  as 
misses  him  sometimes  ?  Well,  I  seed  her  out  with  him, 
to-day,  and  I  tolled  her  off  kinder,  till  she  got  beyant  the 
hill,  and  then  I  give  her  a  quarter  I  had  got,  and  purposed 


o;,C,  IIKXKV    \v.   OBADY, 

as  how  she  should  gi'  me  a  little  time  with  Mm.  She 
sciddled  off  to  town  to  ,u-it  lier  quarter  spent,  and  I  took 
him  :ind  niMde  for  the  woods,  to  meet  her  thai*  agin, 
l>y  sun  !  " 

"He's  a  deep  one,  I  tell  you!"  he  said,  drawing  a 
breatli  of  admiral  ion  ;  "•  as  deep  a  one  as  I  ever  see.  He'd 
never  been  in  the  woods  before,  but  he  jest  knowed  it  all ! 
You  orter  seed  him  when  a  jay-bird  come  and  sot  on  a 
high  limb,  and  flung  him  some  sass,  and  tried  to  sorter  to 
make  free  with  him.  The  look  that  boy  give  him  couldn't 
a'  been  beat  by  nobody.  The  jay  tried  to  hold  up  to  it 
and  chaffered  a  little,  but  he  finally  had  to  skip,  the  wust 
beat  bird  you  ever  saw  !  " 

And  so  the  old  fellow  went  on,  telling  me  about  that 
wonderful  pic-nic ;  how  he  had  gathered  flowers  for  the 
baby,  and  made  little  bouquets,  which  the  baby  received 
with  a  critical  air,  as  if  he  had  spent  his  life  in  a  florist's 
shop,  and  being  a  connoisseur  in  flowers,  couldn't  afford 
to  become  enthusiastic  over  pied  daisies ;  how  a  gray 
squirrel  scampering  down  a  near  tree  had  startled  him  out 
of  his  wits,  while  the  baby,  seated  still  nearer  the  disturb- 
ance than  he,  remained  a  marvel  of  stolidity  and  presence 
of  mind  ;  how  the  baby  was  finally  coaxed  out  of  his  wise 
reserve  by  a  group  of  yellow  butterflies  pulsating  in  the 
golden  sunshine,  and  by  the  flashing  of  the  silvery  brook 
that  ran  beneath  them  ;  how  all  the  birds  in  the  county 
seemed  to  have  entered  into  a  conspiracy  to  upset  that 
baby's  dignity  ;  and  how  they  would  assail  him  with 
pert  bursts  of  song  and  rapid  curvetings  about  his  head, 
while  Bob  sat  off  at  a  distance,  "  and  let  'em  fight  it  out, 
not  helping  one  side  or  t'other,"  always  to  see  the  chat- 
terers retire  in  good-humored  defeat  before  the  serene 
impassibility  of  the  youngster  ;  how  the  only  drawback  to 
the  pic-nic  was  that  there  was  not  a  thing  to  eat,  and 
besides  its  being  in  violation  of  all  pic-nic  precedent,  there 
was  danger  of  the  little  one  getting  very  hungry ;  and 
how,  in  the  evening — what  would  have  been  after  dinner  if 
they'd  had  any  dinner — the  baby,  who  was  sitting  oppo- 


ins  LI  i-K,    \VI;MI\<;S,   AND  SPKKCIIKS.  ^.-,7 

sit*-  Bob  on  the  grass,  suddenly  assumed  an  air  of  dccji»-r 
solemnity,  even  than  he  had  worn  before,  and  gazed  at 
Bob  with  a  dense  and  inscrutable  gaze,  until  he  was 
actually  embarrassed  by  the  searching  and  fixed  character 
of  this  look  ;  and  how  the  round,  grave  head  suddenly 
keeled  to  one  side  as  if  it  were  so  heavy  with  ideas  that  it, 
could  not  be  held  upright  any  longer  ;  and  how  then,  sud- 
denly, and  without  a  sign  or  hint  of  warning,  this  self- 
possessed  baby  tumbled  over  in  the  grass,  shot  his  little 
toes  upward,  and,  before  Bob  could  reach  him,  was  dead 
asleep  !  And  Bob  told  me  then,  with  the  glittering  tears 
gathering  in  his  eyes  and  rolling  down  his  old  cheeks,  how 
he  had  picked  the  baby  up  and  cuddled  him  close  to  his 
old  bosom,  and  listened  to  his  soft  breathing,  and  stroked 
his  chubby  face,  and  almost  guessed  the  wise  dreams  that 
were  flitting  through  his  round  fuzzy  head, — hugged  him 
so  close,  and  pressed  him  to  his  bosom  with  such  hungry, 
tender  love,  that  he  felt  as  if  he  had  him  ' '  layin'  agin'  my 
naked  heart,  and  warmin'  it  up,  and  stirrin'  all  its  strings 
with  his  little  fingers  !  " 

It  was  late  that  night  when  I  went  home — after  one 
o'clock;  a  fearful  night,  too.  The  rain  was  pouring  in  tor- 
rents and  the  wind  howled  like  mad.  Taking  a  near 
cut  home,  I  passed  by  the  hut  where  Bob's  wife  lived. 
Through  the  drifting  rain,  I  saw  a  dark  figure  against  the 
side  of  the  house.  Stepping  closer,  I  saw  that  it  was  Bob, 
mounted  on  a  barrel,  flattened  out  against  the  planks,  his 
old  felt  hat  down  about  his  ears,  and  the  rain  pouring  from 
it  in  streams — his  face  glued  to  the  window. 

Poor  old  follow  !  there  he  was  !  oblivious  to  the  storm, 
to  hunger  and  everything  else — clinging  like  some  home- 
less night-bird,  drifting  and  helpless,  to  the  outside  of  his 
own  home  ;  gazing  in  stealthily  at  the  bed  where  the  little 
one  slept,  and  warming  his  old  heart  up  with  the  memory  of 
that  wondrous  pic-nic — of  the  solemn  contest  with  the  im- 
pertinent jay-bird,  and  the  grave  rapture  over  the  butter- 
flies that  swung  lazily  about  in  their  rift  of  sunshine. 


IIKXKY    \v.  <;K\I>Y, 

One  morning,  many  months  after  the  pic-nic,  Bob  came 
to  nif  sideways.  His  right  arm  liunglim])  and  inert  by  his 
sid«-,  and  his  right  h-ir  dragged  helplessly  after  the  left. 
The  yielding  muscles  of  the  neck  had  stiffened  and  drawn 
his  head  awry.  He  stumbled  clumsily  to  where  I  was 
standing,  and  received  my  look  of  surprise  shamefacedly. 

"  I've  had  a  stroke,"  he  said.  "Paralysis?  It's  most 
used  me  up.  I  reckon  I'll  never  be  able  to  do  anything  for 
him  !  It  came  on  me  sudden,"  he  said,  as  if  to  say  that  if 
it  had  given  him  any  sort  of  notice,  he  could  have  dodged  it. 

After  that  Bob  went  on  from  worse  to  worse.  His  face, 
all  save  that  fixed  in  the  rigid  grasp  of  the  paralysis, 
became  tremulous,  pitiful  and  uncertain.  He  had  lost  all 
the  chirrupy  good-humor  of  the  other  days,  and  became 
shy  and  silent.  There  was  a  wistfulness  and  yearning  in 
his  face  that  would  have  made  your  heart  ache  ;  a  hungry 
passion  had  struggled  from  the  depth  of  his  soul,  and 
peered  out  of  his  blue  eyes,  and  tugged  at  the  corners  of 
his  mouth.  There  was,  too,  a  pitiful,  scary  look  about  him. 
He  had  the  air  of  one  who  is  pursued.  At  the  slightest 
sigh  he  would  pluck  at  his  lame  leg  sharply,  and  shamble 
oh0,  turning  full  around  at  intervals  to  see  if  he  was  fol- 
lowed. I  learned  that  his  wife  had  become  even  harder  on 
him  since  his  trouble,  and  that  he  was  even  more  than  ever 
afraid  of  her. 

He  had  never  had  another  "  pic-nic."  He  had  snatched 
a  furtive  interview  with  the  baby,  under  protection  of  the 
occasional  nurse,  from  each  of  which  he  came  to  me  with  a 
new  idea  of  the  "deepness"  of  that  infant.  "He's  too 
much  for  me,  that  baby  is  !  "  he  would  say.  "  If  I  just 
had  his  sense!"  He  was  rapidly  getting  shabbier,  and 
Ihinner  and  more  woe-begone.  He  became  a  slink.  !!•• 
hid  about  in  the  day-time,  avoiding  everybody,  and  seem- 
in  u  to  carry  off  his  love  and  his  passion,  as  a  dog  with  a 
bone,  seeking  an  alley.  At  night  he  would  be  seen  hanging 
like  a  guilty  thief  about  the  hut  in  which  his  treasure 
was  hid. 

"  I've  a  mind,"  he  said  one  morning,  "  to  go  home.     I 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND    SPEECHES.  259 

don't  think  she  "  (he  had  quit  calling  her  "Ann"  now) 
"  could  drive  me  out  now.  All  I'd  want  would  be  to  just 
sit  in  a  corner  o'  the  house  and  be  with  him.  That's  all." 

"Bob,"  I  said  to  him  one  morning,  "you  rascal,  you 
are  starving  !  " 

He  couldn't  deny  it.  He  tried  to  put  it  off,  but  he 
couldn'  t.  His  face  told  on  him. 

"  Have  you  had  anything  to  eat  to-day  ? " 

"No,  sir." 

"Nor  yesterday?" 

"No,  sir." 

I  gave  him  a  half-dollar.  A  wolfish  glare  of  hunger 
shot  into  his  eyes  as  he  saw  the  money.  He  clutched  it 
with  a  spasm  of  haste  and  started  off.  I  watched  his  side- 
long walk  down  the  street,  and  then  went  to  work,  satis- 
fied that  he  would  go  off  and  pack  himself  full. 

It  was  hardly  an  hour  before  he  came  back,  his  face 
brighter  than  I  had  seen  it  in  months.  He  carried  a  bundle 
in  his  live  hand.  He  laid  it  on  my  desk,  and  then  fell 
back  on  his  dead  leg  while  I  opened  it.  I  found  in  the 
bundle  a  red  tin  horse,  attached  to  a  blue  tin  wagon,  on 
which  was  seated  a  green  tin  driver.  I  looked  up  in  blank 
astonishment. 

' '  For  him !  "  he  said  simply.  And  then  he  broke  down. 
He  turned  slowly  on  his  live  leg  as  an  axis  and  leaned 
against  the  wall. 

"  Could  you  send  it  to  him  ? "  he  said  at  last.  "  If  she 
knew  I  sent  it,  she  mightn't  let  him  have  it.  He's  never 
had  nothin'  o'  this  kind,  and  I  thought  it  might  pearten 
him  up." 

''  Bob,  is  this  the  money  I  gave  you  ? " 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  And  you  were  starving  when  you  left  here  ? " 

"  Oh,  I  got  some  bread  !  " 

I  suppose  every  man,  woman  and  child  remembers  that 
terrible  night  three  years  ago  when  we  had  lightning  while 
the  snow  was  on  the  ground.  The  flashes  plowed  great 


III.NKV     \V.     (iKAUV, 

yellow  seams  through  the  gray  of  tin- day,  and  at  night  a 
freezing stonn  of  sl.-ct  and  rain  cairn-. 

It  was  a  terrible  night.  I  staggered  home  tlm.iiirli  it  to 
where  a  big  lire,  and  blue  eyes  and  Mack,  and  slippers,  and 
roasting  apples  were  awaiting  me.  I  thought  of  Bob — my 
old  night-owl,  with  a  heart  in  him,  and  wondered  \\hether 
he  was  keeping  his  silent,  but  uncomplaining  vigil  about 
the  little  hut  on  the  hill-side.  I  even  went  so  far  as  to 
speculate  on  this  point  with  a  certain  blue-eyed  youngster 
on  my  knee,  to  whom  Bob's  life  was  a  romance  and  a 
wonder. 

Bless  me  !  and  all  the  time  I  was  pitying  him,  I  didn't 
know  that  he  had  "  gone  home  "  and  was  all  right. 

His  wife  slept  uneasily  that  night,  as  she  has  since  said. 
She  rolled  in  her  sleep  a  long  time,  and  at  last  got  up  and 
went  to  the  window  and  looked  out.  She  shuddered  at  the, 
sound  of  the  whizzing  sleet  and  pitiless  hum  of  the  rain  on 
the  roof.  Then  she  stumbled  sleepily  back  to  her  couch, 
and  dreamed  of  a  long  shady  lane,  and  a  golden-green 
afternoon  in  May,  and  a  bright-faced  young  fellow  that 
looked  into  her  heart,  and  held  her  face  in  his  soft  fingers. 
How  this  dream  became  tangled  in  her  thoughts  that  night 
of  all  nights,  she  never  could  tell.  But  there  it  was  gleam- 
ing like  a  thread  of  gold  through  the  dismal  warp  and  woof 
of  her  life. 

It  was  full  day  when  she  awoke.  As  she  turned  lazily 
upon  her  side  she  started  up  in  affright.  There  was  a  man, 
dripping  wet,  silent,  kneeling  by  her  bedside.  An  old  felt 
hat  lay  upon  the  floor.  The  man's  head  was  bowed  deep 
down  over  the  bed  and  his  hands  were  bundled  tenderly 
about  one  of  the  baby's  fists  that  had  been  thrown  above 
its  head. 

The  worn,  weatherbeaten  figure  was  familiar  to  her. 
But  there  was  something  that  stopped  her,  as  she  started 
forward  angrily.  She  stood  posed  like  a  statue  for  a 
moment,  then  bent  down,  curiously  and  tenderly,  and  with 
trembling  fingers  pulled  the  cover  back  from  the  bed,  and 
looked  up  into  the  man's  face  steadily.  Then  she  put  her 


ins  LIFE,   \VJ:HIM.>,   AND  S]>KKCHKS.  261 

fingers  on  his  hand  furtively  and  shrinkingly.  And  then 
a  strange  look  crept  into  her  face — the  dream  of  the  night 
came  to  her  like  a  flash — and  she  sank  back  upon  the  floor, 
and  dropped  her  head  between  her  knees. 

Ah,  yes,  Bob  had  "come  home." 

And  the  poor  fellow  had  come  to  stay.  Not  even  his 
place  in  the  corner  would  he  want  now  !  No  place  about 
the  scanty  board  !  Just  to  stay — that  was  all ;  not  to  offend 
by  his  laziness,  or  to  annoy  with  his  ugly,  shambling  figure, 
and  his  no-count  ways.  Just  "  come  home  to  stay !  " 

And  there  the  baby  slept  quietly,  all  unconscious  of  the 
shadow  and  the  mystery  that  hung  above  his  wise  little 
head — unconscious  of  the  shabby  old  watcher,  and  the 
woman  on  the  floor,  dreaming,  perhaps,  of  the  swinging 
butterflies  and  the  chaffing  birds  and  the  brook  flashing  in 
the  sunshine.  And  there  was  old  Bob — brave,  at  last, 
through  love — "come  home." 

Out  of  the  storm  like  a  night-bird !  In  the  door 
stealthily  like  a  thief !  Groping  his  way  to  the  bedside 
through  the  dark  like  a  murderer !  But  there  was  no 
danger  in  him — no  ill-omen  about  him.  It  was  only  old 
Bob,  come  home,  "  come  home  to  stay  ! " 

He  had  clasped  the  little  hand  he  loved  so  well  in  his 
rough  palm  and  cuddled  it  close,  as  if  he  hoped  to  hold  it 
always — fondled  it  in  his  hands,  as  if  he  hoped  to  ride  his 
own  life  on  the  spring-tide  that  gathered  in  its  rosy  palm, 
or  to  catch  that  young  life  in  the  ebbing  billows  that  wasted 
from  his  cold  fingers.  But  no  ;  the  baby  was  "  too  much 
for  him  !  "  And  the  young  heart,  all  unconscious  and  all 
perverse,  sent  the  rich  blood  through  the  little  arm,  down 
the  slender  wrist,  and  into  the  dimpled  fist,  where  it  pulsed 
and  throbbed  uneasily,  as  it  broke  against  the  chill,  stark 
presence  of  Death ! 


I1K.NKV     U.    (.KADY, 


COTTON  AND  ITS  KINGDOM.* 


IT  has  long  been  the  fortune  of  the  South  to  deal  with 
special  problems — slavery,  secession,  reconstruction. 
For  h'fty  years  has  the  settlement  of  these  questions  eimauv.  1 
her  people,  and  challenged  the  attention  of  the  world.  As 
these  issues  are  set  aside  finally,  after  stubborn  and  bloo<ly 
conflict,  during  which  she  maintained  her  position  with 
courage,  and  abided  results  with  fortitude,  she  finds  her- 
self confronted  with  a  new  problem  quite  as  important  as 
either  of  those  that  have  been  disposed  of.  In  the  cultiva- 
tion and  handling,  under  the  new  order  of  things,  of  the 
world's  great  staple,  cotton,  she  is  grappling  with  a  matter 
that  involves  essentially  her  own  welfare,  and  is  of  the 
greatest  interest  to  the  general  public.  To  the  slave-holder 
the  growing  of  cotton  was  straight  and  easy,  as  the  product 
of  his  land  was  supplemented  by  the  increase  of  his  slaves, 
and  he  prospered  in  spite  of  himself.  To  the  Southern 
farmer  of  post  bellum  days,  impoverished,  unsettled,  and 
thrown  upon  free  labor,  working  feverishly  with  untried 
conditions,  poorly  informed  as  to  the  result  of  experir  ^nts 
made  by  his  neighbors,  and  too  impatient  to  wait  upon  his 
own  experience,  it  is  quite  a  different  affair.  After  sixteen 
years  of  trial,  everything  is  yet  indeterminate.  And 
whether  this  staple  is  cultivated  in  the  South  as  a  profit  or 
a  passion,  and  whether  it  shall  bring  the  South  to  inde- 
pendence or  t$>  beggary,  are  matters  yet  to  be  settled. 
Whether  its  culture  shall  result  in  a  host  of  croppers  with- 
out money  or  credit,  appealing  to  the  granaries  of  the 
West  against  famine,  paying  toll  to  usurers  at  home,  and  [ 
mortgaging  their  crops  to  speculators  abroad  even  before 
it  is  planted — a  planting  oligarchy  of  money-lenders,  who 
have  usurped  the  land  through  foreclosure,  and  hold  by 

*  Beprinted  from  Harper's  Magazine,  Oct.,   1881. 


ins  I.IFK,   \VKITI.\<;S,   AND  si 

the  ever-growing  margin  between  a  grasping  lender  and  an 
enforced  borrower — or  a  prosperous  self-respecting  race  of 
small  farmers,  cultivating  their  own  lands,  living  upon 
their  own  resources,  controlling  their  crops  until  they  are 
sold,  and  independent  alike  of  usurers  and  provision 
brokers — which  of  these  shall  be  the  outcome  of  cotton 
culture  the  future  must  determine.  It  is  certain  only  in 
the  present  that  the  vigor  of  the  cotton  producers  and  the 
pace  at  which  they  are  moving  are  rapidly  forcing  a  settle- 
ment of  these  questions,  and  that  the  result  of  the  experi- 
ments now  swiftly  working  out  in  the  South  will  especially 
concern  a  large  part  of  the  human  race,  from  the  farmer 
who  plods  down  the  cotton  row,  cutting  through  his  doubts 
with  a  hoe,  to  the  spinner  in  Manchester  who  anxiously 
balances  the  totals  of  the  world's  crop. 

It  may  be  well  to  remark  at  the  outset  that  the  produc- 
tion of  cotton  in  the  South  is  practically  without  limit.  It 
was  1830  before  the  American  crop  reached  1,000,000 
bales,  and  the  highest  point  ever  reached  in  the  days  of 
slavery  was  a  trifle  above  4,500,000  bales.  The  crop  of 
1880-81  is  about  2,000,000  in  excess  of  this,  and  there  are 
those  who  believe  that  a  crop  of  8,000,000  bales  is  among 
the  certainties  of  the  next  few  years.  The  heavy  inei 
in  the  cotton  crop  is  due  entirely  to  the  increase  of  cotton 
acrer  je  brought  about  by  the  use  of  fertilizers.  Millions 
of  acres  of  land,  formerly  thought  to  be  beyond  the  pos- 
sible limit  of  the  cotton  belt,  have  been  made  the  best  of 
cotton  lands  by  being  artificially  enriched.  In  North  Caro- 
lina alone  the  limit  of  cotton  production  has  been  moved 
twenty  miles  northward  and  twenty  miles  westward,  and 
the  half  of  Georgia  on  which  no  cotton  was  grown  twenty 
years  ago  now  produces  fully  half  the  crop  of  the  State. 
The  "  area  of  low  production  "  as  the  Atlantic  States  are 
brought  to  the  front  by  artificial  stimulation  is  moving 
westward,  and  is  now  central  in  Alabama  and  Florida. 
But  the  increase  in  acreage,  large  as  it  is,  will  be  but  a 
small  factor  in  the  increase  of  production,  compared  to  the 
intensifying  the  cultivation  of  the  land  now  in  use.  Under 


.  i:v    \v.  <; 

iln.-  present  loos.-  system  of  planting,  the  average  yield  is 
hardly  better  than  one  bale  to  three  acres.  This  could  be 
easily  increased  to  a  bale  an  acre.  In  (J.-or-ja  live  bales 
have  been  raised  on  one  acre,  and  a  \  ield  of  three,  bales  to 
the  acre  is  credited  to  several  localities.  1 'resident  More- 
head,  of  the  Mi>sissi]>pi  Valley  Cotton  Planters'  Associ- 
ation, says  that  the  entire  cotton  crop  of  the  present  year 
might  have  been  easily  raised  in  fourteen  counties  along 
the  Mississippi  River.  It  will  be  seen,  therefore,  that  the 
capacity  of  the  South  to  produce  cotton  is  practically  liniit- 
and  when  we  consider  the  enormous  demand  for  cotton 
goods  now  opening  up  from  new  climes  and  peoples,  we  may 
conclude  that  the  near  future  will  see  crops  compared  to 
which  the  crop  of  the  past  year,  worth  $300,000,000,  will 
seem  small. 

Who  will  be  the  producers  of  these  vast  crops  of  the 
future  ?  Will  they  be  land-owners  or  tenants — planters  or 
farmers  ?  The  answer  to  this  inquiry  wTill  be  made  by  the 
average  Southerners  without  hesitation.  "  Small  farms," 
he  will  say,  "  well  tended  by  actual  owners,  will  be  the 
rule  in  the  South.  The  day  of  a  land-holding  oligarchy 
has  passed  forever."  Let  us  see  about  this. 

The  history  of  agriculture — slow  and  stubborn  industry 
that  it  is — will  hardly  show  stronger  changes  than  have 
taken  place  in  the  rural  communities  of  the  South  in  the 
past  fifteen  years.  Immediately  after  the  war  betwreen  the 
Stat^j  there  was  a  period  of  unprecedented  disaster.  The 
surrender  of  the  Confederate  armies  found  the  plantations 
of  the  South  stripped  of  houses,  fences,  stock,  and  imple- 
ments. The  planters  were  without  means  or  prospects, 
and  uncertain  as  to  what  should  be  done.  The  belief  that 
extensive  cotton  culture  had  perished  with  slavery  had  put 
the  price  of  the  staple  up  to  thirty  cents.  Lured  by  the 
dazzling  price,  which  gave  them  credit  as  well  as  hope,  the 
owners  of  the  plantations  prepared  for  vast  operations. 
They  refitted  their  quarters,  repaired  their  fences,  sum- 
moned hundreds  of  negro  croppers  at  high  prices,  and 
invested  lavishly  their  borrowed  capital  in  what  they  felt 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND    S  I1  K  Mr  I  IKS.  265 

sure  was  a  veritable  bonanza.  The  few  years  that  followed 
are  full  of  sickening  failure.  Planters  who  had  been 
princes  in  wealth  and  possessions  suddenly  found  them- 
selves irretrievably  in  debt  and  reduced  to  beggary. 
Under  the  stimulation  of  high  prices  the  crops  grew,  until 
there  was  a  tumble  from  thirty  to  ten  cents  per  pound. 
Unable  to  meet  their  engagements  with  their  factors,  who, 
suddenly  awakening  to  the  peril  of  the  situation,  refused 
to  make  further  advances  or  grant  extensions,  the  planters 
had  no  recourse  but  to  throw  their  lands  on  the  market. 
But  so  terrible  had  been  their  experience — many  losing 
$100,000  in  a  single  season — that  no  buyers  were  found  for 
the  plantations  on  which  they  had  been  wrecked.  The 
result  of  this  panic  to  sell  and  disinclination  to  buy  was  a 
toppling  of  land  values.  Plantations  that  had  brought 
from  $100,000  to  $150,000  before  the  war,  and  even  since, 
were  sold  at  $6000  to  $10,000,  or  hung  on  the  hands  of 
the  planter  and  his  factor  at  any  price  whatever.  The  ruin 
seemed  to  be  universal  and  complete,  and  the  old  planta- 
tion system,  it  then  seemed,  had  perished  utterly  and  for- 
ever. While  no  definite  reason  was  given  for  the  failure- 
free  labor  and  the  credit  system  being  the  causes  usually  and 
loosely  assigned — it  went  without  contradiction  that  the 
system  of  planting  under  which  the  South  had  amassed  its 
riches  and  lived  in  luxury  was  inexorably  doomed. 

Following  this  lavish  and  disastrous  period  came  the 
era  of  small  farms.  Led  into  the  market  by  the  low  prices 
to  which  the  best  lands  had  fallen,  came  a  host  of  small 
buyers,  to  accommodate  whom  the  plantations  were  subdi- 
vided, and  offered  in  lots  to  suit  purchasers.  Never  per- 
haps was  there  a  rural  movement,  accomplished  without 
revolution  or  exodus,  that  equalled  in  extent  and  swiftness 
the  partition  of  the  plantations  of  the  ex-slave-holders  into 
small  farms.  As  remarkable  as  was  the  eagerness  of  the 
negroes — who  bought  in  Georgia  alone  6850  farms  in  three 
years — the  earth-hunger  of  the  poorer  class  of  the  whites, 
who  had  been  unable  under  the  slave-holding  oligarchy  to 
own  land,  was  even  more  striking.  In  Mississippi  there 


\\  .    «. i:\KY, 

in  1 807  but  41kJ  farms  of  le>s  than  ten  acres,  and  in 
1870,  ll,oo:',;  <.ii]y  ^::i-l  of  over  ten  and  less  than  twenty 
acr.-s.  ami  l^?1'.  s'.isi  ;  only  1<'>.0-_M  between  t \vt-nty  ami  om- 
hundred  acres,  and  in  1S70,  3S,Oir>.  There  was  thus  in  this 
one  State  a  gain  of  nearly  forty  thousand  small  farms  of 
than  one  hundred  acres  in  about  three  years.  In 
(MM.r.u-ia  the  number  of  small  farms  sliced  off  of  the  hi u 
plantations  from  1808  to  1873  was  32,824.  In  Liberty 
County  there  were  in  1806  only  three  farms  of  less  than  ten 
acres  ;  in  1870  there  were  010,  and  749  farms  between  ten 
and  twenty  acres.  This  splitting  of  the  old  plantations 
into  farms  went  on  with  equal  rapidity  all  over  the  South, 
and  was  hailed  with  lively  expressions  of  satisfaction.  A 
population  pinned  down  to  the  soil  on  which  it  lived,  made 
conservative  and  prudent  by  land-ownership,  forced  to 
abandon  the  lavish  method  of  the  old  time  as  it  had  noth- 
ing to  spare,  and  to  cultivate  closely  and  intelligently  as  it 
had  no  acres  to  waste,  living  on  cost  as  it  had  no  credit, 
and  raising  its  own  supplies  as  it  could  not  afford  to  buy— 
this  the  South  boasted  it  had  in  1873, 'and  this  many 
believe  it  has  to-day.  The  small  farmer — who  was  to 
retrieve  the  disasters  of  the  South,  and  wipe  out  the  last 
vestige  of  the  planting  aristocracy,  between  which  and  the 
people  there  was  always  a  lack  of  sympathy,  by  keeping 
his  own  acres  under  his  own  supervision,  and  using  hired 
labor  only  as  a  supplement  to  his  own — is  still  held  to  be 
the  typical  cotton-raiser. 

But  the  observer  who  cares  to  look  beneath  the  surface 
will  detect  signs  of  a  reverse  current.  He  will  discover 
that  there  is  beyond  question  a  sure  though  gradual 
rebunching  of  the  small  farms  into  large  estates,  ami  a 
tendency  toward  the  re-establishment  of  a  land-holding  oli- 
garchy. Here  and  there  through  all  the  Cotton  States,  and 
almost  in  every  county,  are  reappearing  the  planter  princes 
of  the  old  time,  still  lords  of  acres,  though  not  of  slaves. 
There  is  in  Mississippi  one  planter  who  raises  annually 
12,000  bales  of  cotton  on  twelve  consolidated  plantations, 
aggregating  perhaps  (50,ooo  acres.  The  Capeheart  estate 


HIS    LIFE,    WHITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  267 

on  Albemarle  Sound,  originally  of  several  thousand  acres, 
had  $52,000  worth  of  land  added  last  year.  In  the  Missis- 
sippi Valley,  where,  more  than  anywhere  else,  is  preserved 
the  distinctive  cotton  plantation,  this  re-absorbing  of  sep- 
arate farms  into  one  ownership  is  going  on  rapidly.  Mr. 
F.  C.  Morehead,  an  authority  on  these  lands,  says  that  not 
one-third  of  them  are  owned  by  the  men  who  held  them  at 
the  close  of  the  war,  and  that  they  are  passing,  one  after 
the  other,  into  the  hands  of  the  commission  merchants.  It 
is  doubtful  if  there  is  a  neighborhood  in  all  the  South  in 
which  casual  inquiry  will  not  bring  to  the  front  from  ten 
to  a  dozen  men  who  have  added  farm  after  farm  to  their 
possessions  for  the  past  several  years,  and  now  own  from 
six  to  twenty  places.  It  must  not  be  supposed  that  these 
farms  are  bunched  together  and  run  after  the  old  planta- 
tion style.  On  the  contrary,  they  are  cut  into  even  smaller 
farms,  and  rented  to  small  croppers.  The  question  involved 
is  not  whether  or  not  the  old  plantation  methods  shall  be 
revived.  It  is  the  much  more  serious  problem  as  to  whether 
the  lands  divided  forever  into  small  farms  shall  be  owned 
by  the  many  or  by  the  few,  whether  we  shall  have  in  the 
South  a  peasantry  like  that  of  France,  or  a  tenantry  like 
that  of  Ireland. 

By  getting  at  the  cause  of  this  threatened  re-absorption 
of  the  small  farmer  into  the  system  from  which  he  so 
eagerly  and  bravely  sought  release,  we  shall  best  under- 
stand the  movement.  It  is  primarily  credit — a  false  credit 
based  on  usury  and  oppression,  strained  to  a  point  where 
it  breeds  distrust  and  provokes  a  percentage  to  compensate 
for  risk,  and  strained,  not  for  the  purchase  of  land,  which 
is  a  security  as  long  as  the  debt  is  unpaid,  but  for  provis- 
ions and  fertilizers,  which  are  valueless  to  either  secure  the 
lender  or  assist  the  borrower  to  pay.  With  the  failure  of 
the  large  planters  and  their  withdrawal  from  business, 
banks,  trust  companies,  and  capitalists  withdraw  their 
money  from  agricultural  loans.  The  new  breed  of  farmers 
held  too  little  land  and  were  too  small  dealers  to  command 
credit  or  justify  investigation.  And  yet  they  were  obliged 


-i:v    \v.    GfiADY, 

to  have  money  with  which  i<>  start,  their  work.  Commis- 
sion merchants  therefore  borrowed  the  money  from  the 
banks,  mid  loaned  it  to  village  brokers  or  .store-keep- 
ers, who  in  turn  loaned  it  to  farmers  in  their  neighborhood, 
usually  in  the  form  of  advancing  supplies.  It  thus  came 
to  the  farmer  alter  it  had  been  through  three  principals, 
each  of  whom  demanded  a  heavy  percentage  for  the  risk  he 
assumed.  In  every  case  the  farmer  gave  a  lien  or  mort- 
gage upon  his  crop  of  land.  In  this  lien  he  waived  exemp- 
tions  and  defense,  and  it  amounted  in  effect  to  a  de«-<l. 
Having  once  given  such  a  paper  to  his  merchant,  his  credit 
of  course  gone,  and  he  had  to  depend  upon  the  man 
who  held  the  mortgage  for  his  supplies.  To  that  man  he 
must  carry  his  crop  when  it  was  gathered,  pay  him  com- 
mission for  handling  it,  and  accept  the  settlement  that  he 
offered.  To  give  an  idea  of  the  oppressiveness  of  this  sys- 
tem it  is  only  necessary  to  quote  the  Commissioner  of 
Agriculture  of  Georgia,  who  by  patient  investigation  dis- 
covered that  the  Georgia  farmers  paid  prices  for  supplies 
that  averaged  fifty-four  per  cent,  interest  on  all  they 
bought.  For  instance,  corn  that  sold  for  eighty-nine  cents 
a  bushel  cash  was  sold  on  time  secured  by  a  lien  at  a  dol- 
lar and  twelve  cents.  In  Mississippi  the  percentage  is  even 
more  terrible,  as  the  crop  lien  laws  are  in  force  there,  and 
the  crop  goes  into  the  hands  of  the  merchant,  who  charges 
commission  on  the  estimated  number  of  bales,  whether  a 
half  crop  or  a  full  one  is  raised.  Even  this  maladjustment 
of  credits  would  not  impoverish  the  farmer  if  he  did  not 
yield  to  the  infatuation  for  cotton-planting,  and  fail  to 
plant  anything  but  cotton. 

Those  who  have  the  nerve  to  give  up  part  of  their  land 
and  labor  to  the  raising  of  their  own  supplies  and  stock  have 
but  little  need  of  credit,  and  consequently  seldom  get  into 
the  hands  of  the  usurers.  But  cotton  is  the  money  crop, 
and  offers  such  flattering  inducements  that  everything 
yields  to  that.  It  is  not  unusual  to  see  farmers  come  to  the 
cities  to  buy  butter,  melons,  meal,  and  vegetables.  They 
rely  almost  entirely  upon  their  merchants  for  meat  ami 


INS    LIFE,    WIMTIXOS,    AND    SI'KKCHES.  269 

bread,  hay,  forage,  and  stock.  In  one  county  in  Georgia 
last  year,  from  the  small  depots,  $80,000  worth  of  meat  and 
bread  was  shipped  to  farmers.  The  official  estimate  of  the 
National  Cotton  Planters'  Association,  at  its  session  of 
1881,  was  that  the  Cotton  States  lacked  42,252,244  bushels 
of  wheat,  166,684,279  bushels  of  corn,  77,762,108  bushels  of 
oats,  or  286, 698, 632  bushels  of  grain,  of  raising  what  it  con- 
sumed. When  to  this  is  added  4,011,150  tons  of  hay  at 
thirty  dollars  a  ton,  and  $32,000,000  paidlfor  fertilizers,  we 
find  that  the  value  of  the  cotton  crop  is  very  largely  con- 
sumed in  paying  for  the  material  with  which  it  was  made. 
On  this  enormous  amount  the  cotton  farmer  has  to  pay  the 
usurous  percentage  charged  by  his  merchant  broker,  which 
is  never  less  than  thirty  per  cent.,  and  frequently  runs  up 
to  seventy  per  cent.  We  can  appreciate,  when  we  consider 
this,  the  statement  of  the  man  who  said,  "  The  commission 
merchants  of  the  South  are  gradually  becoming  farmers, 
and  the  farmers,  having  learned  the  trick,  will  become 
merchants." 

The  remedy  for  this  deplorable  tendency  is  first  the 
establishment  of  a  proper  system  of  credit.  The  great 
West  was  in  much  worse  condition  than  the  South  some 
years  ago.  The  farms  were  mortgaged,  and  were  being  sold 
under  mortgages,  under  a  system  not  half  so  oppressive  as 
that  under  which  the  Southern  farmer  labors.  Boston  capi- 
tal, seeking  lucrative  investment,  soon  began  to  pour  toward 
the  West,  in  charge  of  loan  companies,  and  was  put  out  at 
eight  per  cent.,  and  the  redemption  of  that  section  was 
speedily  worked  out.  A  similar  movement  is  now  started 
in  the  South.  An  English  company,  with  head-quarters 
at  New  Orleans,  loaned  over  $600,000  its  first  year  at  eight 
per  cent.,  with  perfect  security.  The  farmers  who  bor- 
rowed this  money  were  of  course  immensely  relieved,  and 
the  testimony  is  that  they  are  rapidly  working  out.  In 
Atlanta,  Georgia,  a  company  is  established  with  $2,000,000 
of  Boston  and  New  York  capital,  which  it  is  loaning  on 
farm  lands  at  seven  per  cent.  In  the  first  three  months  of 
its  work  it  loaned  $120,000,  and  it  has  now  appointed  local 


270  ii  I:M:Y   w.  c; I:\DV, 

.-incuts  in  thirty  counties  in  the  State,  and  advertises  that 
it  wishes  to  l«*nd  s.">0,000  in  each  county.  The  man; 
say  that  they  can  command  practically  unlimited  capital 
-a ft-  risks  at  seven  per  cent.  Companies  working  on 
the  same  plan  have  been  established  elsewhere  in  the  South, 
and  it  is  said  that  there  will  be  no  lack  of  capital  for  safe 
risks  on  rural  lands  in  a  few  years. 

The  first  reform,  however,  that  must  be  made  is  in  the 
system  of  farming.  The  South  must  prepare  to  raise  her 
own  provisions,  compost  her  fertilizers,  cure  her  own  hay, 
and  breed  her  own  stock.  Leaving  credit  and  usury  out  of 
the  question,  no  man  can  pay  seventy-five  cents  a  bushel 
for  corn,  thirty  dollars  a  ton  for  hay,  twenty  dollars  a 
barrel  for  pork,  sixty  cents  for  oats,  and  raise  cotton  for 
eiirht  cents  a  pound.  The  farmers  who  prosper  at  the 
South  are  the  "corn-raisers,"  i.e.,  the  men  who  raise  their 
own  supplies,  and  make  cotton  their  surplus  crop.  A 
gentleman  who  recorded  320  mortgages  last  year  testified 
that  not  one  was  placed  on  the  farm  of  a  man  who  raised 
his  own  bread  and  meat.  The  shrewd  farmers  who  always 
have  a  bit  of  money  on  hand  with  which  to  buy  any  good 
place  that  is  to  be  sold  under  mortgage  are  the  "  corn- 
raisers,"  and  the  momentthey  get  possession  they  rule  out 
the  all-cotton  plan,  and  plant  corn  and  the  grasses.  That 
the  plan  of  farming  only  needs  revision  to  make  the  South 
rich  beyond  measure  is  proven  by  constant  example.  A 
corn-raiser  bought  a  place  of  370  acres  for  $1700.  He  at 
once  put  six  tenants  on  it,  and  limited  their  cotton  acreage 
to  one-third  of  what  they  had  under  cultivation.  Each  one 
of  the  six  made  more  clear  money  than  the  former  owner 
had  made,  and  the  rents  for  the  first  year  were  $1126.  The 
man  who  bought  this  farm  lives  in  Oglethorpe,  Georgia, 
and  has  fifteen  farms  all  run  on  the  same  plan. 

The  details  of  the  management  of  what  may  be  the 
typical  planting  neighborhood  of  the  South  in  the  future 
are  furnished  me  by  the  manager  of  the  Capeheart  estate  in 
North  Carolina.  This  estate  is  divided  into  farms  of  fifty 
acres  each,  and  rented  to  tenants.  These  tenants  are 


HIS    MFK,     WlilTI.NdS,     AM)    SPKKCIIKS.  271 

bound  to  plant  fifteen  acres  in  cotton,  twelve  in  corn,  eight 
in  small  crops,  and  let  fifteen  lie  in  grass.  They  pay  one- 
third  of  the  crop  as  rent,  or  one-half  if  the  proprietor 
furnishes  horses  and  mules.  They  have  comfortable  quart- 
ers, and  are  entitled  to  the  use  of  surplus  herring  and  the 
dressings  of  the  herring  caught  in  the  fisheries  annexed  to 
the  place.  In"  the  center  of  the  estate  is  a  general  store 
managed  by  the  proprietor,  at  which  the  tenants  have  such 
a  line  of  credit  as  they  are  entitled  to,  of  course  paying  a 
pretty  percentage  of  profit  on  the  goods  they  buy.  They 
are  universally  prosperous,  and  in  some  cases,  where  by 
skill  and  industry  they  have  secured  100  acres,  are  laying 
up  money.  The  profts  to  Dr.  Capeheart  are  large,  and 
show  the  margin  there  is  in  buying  land  that  is  loosely 
farmed,  and  putting  it  under  intelligent  supervision.  Of 
the  $52,000  worth  of  land  added  to  his  estates  last  year,  at 
a  valuation  of  twenty-five  dollars  per  acre,  he  will  realize 
in  rental  nine  dollars  per  acre  for  every  acre  cultivated,  and 
calculates  that  in  five  years  at  the  most  the  rentals  of  the 
land  will  have  paid  back  what  he  gave  for  it. 

Amid  all  this  transition  from  land-owner  to  tenant  there 
is,  besides  the  corn-raiser,  one  other  steadfast  figure,  undis- 
turbed by  change  of  relation  or  condition,  holding  ten- 
aciously to  what  it  has,  though  little  inclined  to  push  for 
more.  This  is  Cuffee,  the  darky  farmer.  There  is  no  more 
interesting  study  in  our  agriculture  than  this  same  dusky, 
good-natured  fellow — humble,  patient,  shrewd — as  he  drives 
into  town  with  his  mixed  team  and  his  one  bag  of  cotton, 
on  which,  drawn  by  a  sympathetic  sense  of  ownership,  his 
whole  family  is  clustered.  Living  simply  and  frugally, 
supplementing  his  humble  meal  with  a  'possum  caught  in 
the  night  hunt,  or  a  rabbit  shot  Avith  the  old  army  musket 
that  he  captured  from  some  deserted  battle-field,  and  allow- 
ing no  idlers  in  the  family  save  the  youngsters  who  "  tend 
de  free  school,"  he  defies  alike  the  usurer  and  the  land- 
shark.  In  the  State  of  Georgia  he  owns  680,000  acres  of 
land,  cut  up  into  farms  that  barely  average  ten  acres  each, 
and  in  the  Cotton  States  he  owns  2,680,800  acres,  similarly 


272  IIK.NUY    w.   <;I:M>Y, 

divided.  From  this  possession  if  is  impossible  to  drive 
him.  and  to  this  possession  he  adds  gradually  as  the  seasons 
goby.  He  is  not  ambitious,  however,  to  own  lar<;e  tracts 
of  land,  preferring  the  few  acres  that  he  has  constantly 
under  his  eye,  and  to  every  foot  of  which  he  feels  a  rude 
attachment. 

The  relations  of  the  negro  to  cotton  are  peculiar. 
Although  he  spends  the  most  of  his  life  in  the  cotton  field, 
and  this  staple  is  the  main  crop  with  which  he  is  concerned, 
it  does  not  enter  into  his  social  life,  catch  his  sentiment, 
or  furnish  the  occasion  for  any  of  his  pleasures.  None  of 
his  homely  festivals  hinge  upon  the  culture  or  handling  of 
the  great  staple.  He  has  his  corn-shuckings,  his  log-roll- 
ings, his  quilting  bees,  his  threshing  jousts,  and  indeed 
every  special  work  about  the  farm  is  made  to  yield  its  ele- 
ment of  frolic,  except  the  making  of  cotton.  None  of  those 
tuneful  melodies  with  which  he  beguiles  his  work  or  glad- 
dens his  play-time  acknowledge  cotton  as  a  subject  or  an 
incident.  None  of  the  folklore  with  which  the  moonlight 
nights  are  whiled  away  or  the  tire-lit  cabins  sanctified,  and 
which  finds  its  home  in  the  corn  patch  or  the  meadows,  has 
aught  to  do  with  the  cotton  field.  I  have  never  heard  a 
negro  song  in  which  the  cotton  field  is  made  the  incidental 
theme  or  the  subject  of  allusion,  except  in  a  broken  per- 
version of  that  incomparable  ballad,  "  The  Mocking-Bird," 
in  which  the  name  of  the  heroine,  the  tender  sentiment, 
and  the  tune,  which  is  a  favorite  one  with  the  negroes,  are 
preserved.  This  song,  with  the  flower  of  Southern  girl- 
hood that  points  the  regretful  tenderness  changed  into  a 
dusky  maiden  idealized  by  early  death,  with  the  "mock- 
ing-bird singing  o'er  her  grave,"  and  sung  in  snatches 
almost  without  words  or  coherence,  is  popular  with  the 
field  hands  in  many  parts  of  the  South. 

But  when  we  have  discussed  the  questions  involved  in 
the  planting  and  culture  of  the  cotton  crop,  as  serious  as 
they  are,  we  have  had  to  do  with  the  least  important  phase 
of  our  subject.  The  crop  of  7,000,000  bales,  when  ready 
for  the  market,  is  worth  in  round  numbers  $300,000,000. 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND    SPEECHES.  273 

The  same  crop  when  manufactured  is  worth  over  $900,- 
000.000.  Will  the  South  be  content  to  see  the  whole  of 
this  added  value  realized  by  outsiders  ?  If  not,  how  much 
of  the  work  necessary  to  create  this  value  will  she  do  within 
her  own  borders?  She  has  abundant  water-powers,  that 
are  never  locked  a  day  by  ice  or  lowered  by  drought,  that 
may  be  had  for  a  mere  song  ;  cheap  labor,  cheap  lands,  an 
unequaled  climate,  cheap  fuel,  and  the  conditions  of  cheap 
living.  Can  these  be  utilized  to  any  general  extent  ? 

It  may  be  premised  that  there  are  questions  of  the 
utmost  importance  to  the  South  outside  of  the  manufacture 
of  the  lint,  which  is  usually  held  to  cover  the  whole  ques- 
tion of  cotton  manufacture.  There  is  no  particle  of  the 
cotton  plant  that  may  not  be  handled  to  advantage.  Mr. 
Edward  Atkinson  is  authority  for  the  statement  that  if  a 
plant  similar  to  cotton,  but  having  no  lint,  could  be  grown 
in  the  North,  it  would  be  one  of  the  most  profitable  oj! 
crops.  And  yet  it  is  true  that  up  to  a  late  date  the  seed 
of  the  cotton  has  been  wholly  wasted,  and  even  now  the 
stalk  is  thrown  away  as  useless.  A  crop  of  7,000,000  bales 
will  yield  3,500,000  tons  of  cotton  seed.  Every  ounce  of  this 
seed  is  valuable,  and  in  the  past  few  years  it  has  been  so 
handled  as  to  add  very  heavily  to  the  value  of  the  crop. 
The  first  value  of  the  seed  is  as  a  fertilizer.  It  has  been 
discovered  of  late  that  the  seed  that  had  been  formerly 
allowed  to  accumulate  about  the  gin-houses  in  vast  piles 
and  rot  as  waste  material,  when  put  upon  the  fields  would 
add  twenty  five  to  thirty-three  per  cent,  to  the  crop.  • 
was  equal  to  many  of  the  fertilizers  that  sell  in  tli<-> 
for  $2.")  p  'r  ton.  In  1869  a  mill  was  established  i 
Orleans  for  the  purpose  of  pressing  the  oil  from  th*>  < 
seed,  and  manufacturing  the  bulk  into  stock  food.  Its 
success  was  so  pronounced  that  there  are  now  fifty-nine 
seed-oil  mills  in  the  South,  costing  over  $6,000,000,  and 
working  up  $5,500,000  worth  of  seed  annually.  The  pro- 
duct of  the  seed  used  sells  for  $9.600,000,  so  that  the  mills 
create  a  value  of  $4,500,000  annually.  They  used  only  one- 
seventh  of  the  seed  produced  in  the  South.  A  ton  of  seed 


IIKNUV    W.    GRADY, 

which  caa  be  worked  f<»r  >O..V)  a  Ion,  and  cost  originally 
ss  to  sl<>.  uiakiii.ir  an  average  cost  when  worked  of  sl.r>,  is 
estimated  to  produce  thirty -five  gallons  of  oiJ  worth  $11.50, 
seed-cake  worth  *.">..'>().  and  lint  worth  si. ;")()—  a  total  of 
$18.50,  or  profit  of  s:j.n<),  per  ton.  The  oil  is  of  excellent 
quality,  and  is  used  in  the  making  of  soaps,  stearine,  white 
oils,  an<l  when  highly  refined  is  a  table  oil  of  such  flavor 
and  appearance  as  will  deceive  the  best  judges.  A  quality 
has  been  lately  discovered  in  it  that  makes  it  valuable  as  a 
dye-stiilf.  It  is  shipped  largely  to  Europe,  130,000  barrels 
having  been  exported  last  year,  chiefly  to  Antwerp.  It  is 
put  up  carefully,  and  re-shipped  to  this  country  as  olive- 
oil  to  such  an  extent  that  prohibitory  duties  have  been  put 
on  it  by  the  Italian  government,  and  it  is  ruled  out  of  that 
country.  Before  it  is  placed  in  the  oil  mill  the  cotton  seed 
is  li u lied.  The  hulls  are  valuable,  and  may  be  used  for 
tanning,  made  into  pulp  for  paper  stock,  or  used  as  fuel, 
and  the  ashes  sold  to  the  soap-makers  for  the  potash  they 
contain.  The  mass  of  kernels  left  after  the  hulls  have  been 
removed  and  the  oil  pressed  out  is  made  into  seed-cake,  a 
most  desirable  food  for  stock,  which  is  exported  largely  to 
Europe.  It  is  also  worked  into  a  fertilizer  that  yields 
under  analysis  $37.50  in  value  per  ton,  and  can  be  sold  for 
$22  a  ton.  It  is  a  notable  fact  that  the  ton  of  seed-cake  is 
even  more  valuable  as  a  stock  food  after  the  $11.50  worth 
of  oil  has  been  taken  from  it  than  before,  and  quite  as  val- 
uable as  a  fertilizer.  In  the  four  hundred  pounds  of  lint 
in  a  bale  of  cotton  there  are  but  four  pounds  of  chemical 
elements  taken  from  the  soil  ;  in  the  oil  there  is  little  more  ; 
but  in  the  seed-cake  and  hulls  there  are  forty  pounds  of 
1  »ot  ash  and  phosphate  of  lime.  But  admirable  as  is  the 
disposition  of  the  cotton  seed  for  manufacture,  ample  as  i-s 
the  margin  of  profit,  and  rapid  as  has  been  the  growth  iii 
the  industry,  there  exists  the  same  disorganization  that  is 
noticeable  in  the  handling  of  the  whole  cotton  question. 
Although  less  than  one-seventh  of  the  seed  raised  is  needad. 
by  the  mills,  they  are  unable  to  get  enough  to  keep  them 
running.  The  cotton  is  ginned  in  such  awkward  distribu- 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  275 

tion,  and  in  such  small  quantity  at  any  one  locality,  that 
it  cannot  be  gathered  promptly  or  cheaply  enough  for  the 
oil  mills.  Of  the  3,500,000  tons  of  seed,  500,000  tons  only 
are  worked  up,  and  perhaps  as  much  more  used  for  seed. 
This  leaves  2,500,000  tons  not  worked,  and  in  which  is  lost 
nearly  $30,000,000  worth  of  oil.  For  whether  this  two  and 
a  half  million  tons  is  used  as  a  fertilizer  or  fed  to  the  stock, 
it  would  lose  none  of  its  value  for  either  purpose  if  the 
thirty-five  gallons  of  oil,  worth  $11.50,  were  extracted  from 
each  ton  of  it. 

Even  when  the  South  has  passed  beyond  the  proper 
handling  of  cotton  seed,  she  has  very  important  ground  to 
cover  before  she  arrives  at  what  is  generally  known  as  cot- 
ton manufacturing.  "The  manufacture  of  this  staple," 
says  a  very  eminent  authority,  "  is  a  unit,  beginning  at  the 
field  where  the  cotton  is  picked,  and  ending  at  the  factory 
from  which  the  cloth  is  sent  to  the  merchant."  How  little 
this  essential  truth  has  been  appreciated  is  apparent  from 
the  fact  that,  until  the  last  census,  ginning,  pressing,  and 
baling  have  been  classed  with  the  "  production"  of  cotton, 
and  its  manufacture  held  to  consist  solely  of  spinning  and 
weaving.  Yet  there  is  not  a  process  to  which  the  lint  is 
submitted  after  it  is  thrown  from  the  negro's  "pocket" 
that  does  not  act  directly  on  the  quality  of  the  cloth  that 
is  finally  produced,  and  on  the  cheapness  and  efficiency 
with  which  the  cloth  is  made.  The  separation  of  the  fibre 
from  the  seed,  the  disposition  made  of  the  fluffy  lint  before 
it  is  compressed,  the  compression  itself,  and  the  baling  of 
the  compressed  cotton — these  are  all  delicate  operations, 
involving  the  integrity  of  the  fibre,  the  cost  of  getting  it 
ready  for  the  spindle,  and  the  ease  with  which  it  may  be 
spun.  Indeed,  Mr.  Hammond,  of  South  Carolina,  a  most 
accomplished  writer,  contends  that  the  gin-house  is  the 
pivotal  point  around  which  the  whole  manufacture  of  cotton 
revolves.  There  is  no  question  that  with  one-tenth  of  the 
money  invested  in  improved  gins,  cleaners,  and  pressers 
that  would  be  required  for  factories,  and  with  incomparably 
less  risk,  the  South  could  make  one-half  the  profit,  pound 


276  III.NKV  w.  <;I:ADY, 

for  pound,  thai  is  made  in  the  mills  of  New  England.  Mr. 
I'.  ( '.  Morehead,  already  alluded  to  in  this  article,  says: 
"A  farmer  who  produces  5oo  hales  of  cotton — 200, 000 
pounds — can,  by  the  expenditure  of  si 500  on  improved  gins 
and  cleaners,  add  one  cent  per  pound  to  the  value  of  his 
crop,  or  $2000.  If  he  added  only  one-half  of  one  cent,  he 
would  get  in  the  first  year  over  fifty  per  cent,  return  of  his 
outlay."  Mr.  Edward  Atkinson — to  close  this  list  of 
authorities — says  that  the  cotton  crop  is  deteriorated  ten 
per  cent,  at  least  by  being  improperly  handled  from  the 
Held  to  the  factory.  It  is,  of  course,  equally  true  that  a 
reform  in  this  department  of  the  manufacture  of  cotton 
would  add  ten  per  cent,  to  the  value  of  the  crop — say 
$30,000,000 — and  that,  too,  \\ithout  cost  to  the  consumer. 
Much  of  the  work  now  done  in  the  mills  of  New  England  is 
occasioned  by  the  errors  committed  in  ginning  and  packing. 
Not  only  would  the  great  part  of  the  dust,  sand,  and  grit 
that  get  into  cotton  from  careless  handling  about  the  gin- 
liouse  be  kept  out  if  it  were  properly  protected,  but  that 
which  is  in  the  fibre  naturally  could  be  cleaned  out  more 
efficiently  and  with  one-third  the  labor  and  cost,  if  it  wero 
taken  before  it  lias  been  compressed  and  baled.  Beyond 
this,  the  excessive  beating  and  tearing  of  the  fibre  neces- 
sary to  clean  it  after  the  sand  has  been  packed  in,  weaken 
and  impair  it,  and  the  sand  injures  the  costly  and  delicate 
machinery  of  the  mills. 

The  capital  available  to  the  farmers  of  any  neighbor- 
hood in  the  South  is  entirely  adequate  to  make  thorough 
reform  in  this  most  important,  safest,  and  most  profitable 
department  of  the  manufacture  of  cotton.  .A  gin-house 
constructed  on  the  best  plan,  supplied  with  the  new  roller 
gins  lately  invented  in  England,  that  guarantee  to  surpass 
in  quantity  of  cotton  ginned  as  well  as  quality  of  lint  our 
rude  and  imperfect  saw  gins,  having  automatic  feeders  to 
pass  the  picking  to  the  gin,  and  an  apron  to  receive  the 
lint  as  it  comes  from  the  gin  and  carry  it  to  the  beater,  or 
cleaner,  where  all  the  motes  and  dust  can  be  taken  from 
the  freshly  ginned  fibre  and  then,  instead  of  rolling  this 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  277 

fleecy  mass  on  a  dirty  floor,  where  it  would  catch  every 
particle  of  dust  and  grit,  to  carry  it  direct  to  a  Dedrick 
press  that  would  compress  forty  pounds  within  a  cubic 
foot,  and  reduce  the  little  bale  of  one  hundred  and  twenty 
pounds  to  the  consistency  of  elm-wood,  and  as  little  liable 
to  soak  water  or  catch  dirt — an  establishment  of  this  sort 
would  add  one  cent  per  pound  to  every  pound  of  cotton  put 
through  it,  and  would  be  worth  more  as  an  example  than  a 
dozen  cotton  factories.  Annexed  to  this  gin-house  should 
be  a  huller  to  take  the  hulls  from  the- seed  and  to  this 
huller  the  seed  should  be  taken  as  it  comes  from  the  gins. 
Once  hulled,  the  hulls  should  be  fed  to  the  stock,  restored 
to  the  soil,  or  sold,  and  the  kernels  sent  to  the  nearest  oil 
mill,  the  oil  sold,  and  the  meal  fed  to  sheep  or  stock,  or 
used  as  a  fertilizer.  These  improvements,  costing  little, 
and  within  the  skill  of  ordinary  laborers,  would  bring  as 
good  a  profit  as  could  be  realized  by  a  factory  involving 
enormous  outlay,  great  risk,  and  the  utmost  skill  of  man- 
agement. The  importance  of  reform  here  will  be  seen  when 
we  state  that  there  is  half  as  much  capital— say  $70,000,- 
000 — invested  in  machinery  for  baling,  pressing,  and  gin- 
ning cotton  as  there  is  invested  in  the  United  States  in 
machinery  for  weaving  and  spinning  it.  So  great  has  been 
the  progress  in  invention,  and  so  sluggish  the  cotton  farmer 
to  reform  either  his  methods  or  his  machinery,  that  experts 
agree  that  the  ginning,  pressing,  and  baling  of  the  crop 
could  be  done  with  one-half  or  possibly  one-third  of  the 
labor  and  cost  of  the  present,  and  done  so  much  better  that 
the  product  would  be  worth  ten  per  cent,  more  than  it  now 
commands,  if  the  best  machinery  were  bought,  and  the 
best  methods  employed. 

The  urgency  and  the  magnitude  of  the  reforms  needed 
in  the  field  and  about  the  gin-house  have  not  deterred  the 
South  from  aspiring  to  spin  and  weave  at  least  the  bulk 
of  the  cotton  crop.  Indeed,  there  is  nothing  that  so  nppeals 
to  Southern  pride  as  to  urge  the  possibility  that  in  time 
the  manufacture  of  this  crop  as  well  as  the  crop  itself  shall 
be  a  monopoly  of  the  cotton  belt.  As  the  South  grows 


II  KNKY    \V.    ORADT, 

richer  :«ml  the  conditions  of  competition  are  nearer  equal, 
there  will  !)•>  a  tendency  to  place  new  machinery  intended 
for  tlif  manufacture  of  cotton  near  the  field  in  which  the 
stable  is  Crowing ;  but  the  extent  to  which  this  tendency 
will  control.  01- the  time  in  which  it  will  become  controll- 
ing, is  beyond  the  scope  of  this  article.  We  shall  rather 
deal  wit li  things  as  they  are,  or  are  likely  to  be  in  the  very 
near  future.  We  note,  then,  that  in  the  past  ten  years  the 
South  has  more  than  doubled  the  amount  of  cotton  manu- 
factured within  her  borders.  In  1870,  there  were  used 
-4.'). o:32, 866  pounds  of  cotton  ;  in  1880,  101,937,256  pounds. 
In  1870,  there  were  11.602  looms  and  416,983  spindles  run- 
ning; in  1880,  15,222  looms  and  714,078  spindles.  This 
array  of  figures  hardly  indicates  fairly  the  progress  that 
the  South  will  make  in  the  next  ten  years,  for  the  reason 
that  the  factories  in  which  these  spindles  are  turned  are 
experiments  in  most  of  the  localities  in  which  they  are 
placed.  It  is  the  invariable  rule  that  when  a  factory  is 
built  in  any  city  or  country  it  is  easier  to  raise  the  capital 
for  a  subsequent  enterprise  than  for  the  first  one.  At 
Augusta,  Georgia,  for  instance,  where  the  manufacture  of 
cloth  has  been  demonstrated  a  success,  the  progress  is 
remarkable.  In  the  past  two  years  two  new  mills,  the 
Enterprise  and  Sibly,  with  30,000  spindles  each,  have  been 
established ;  and  a  third,  the  King,  has  been  organized, 
with  a  capital  of  $1,000,000  and  30,000  spindles.  The  cap- 
ital for  these  mills  was  furnished  about  one-fourth  in 
Augusta,  and  the  balance  in  the  North.  With  these  mills 
running,  Augusta  will  have  170,000  spindles,  and  will  have 
added  about  70,000  spindles  to  the  last  census  returns.  In 
South  Carolina  the  same  rapid  growth  is  resulting  from  the 
establishment  of  one  or  two  successful  mills  ;  and  in  Col- 
umbus, Georgia,  the  influence  of  one  successful  mill,  the 
Eagle  and  Phoenix,  has  raised  the  local  consumption  of 
cotton  from  1927  bales  in  1870  to  19,000  bales  in  1880.  In 
Atlanta,  Georgia,  the  first  mill  had  hardly  been  finished 
before  the  second  was  started  ;  a  third  is  projected  ;  and 
two  companies  have  secured  charters  for  the  building  of  a 


HIS    LIFE,    WRITINGS,     AND    SPEECHES.  279 

forty-mile  canal  to  furnish  water-power  and  factory  fronts 
to  capital  in  and  about  the  city.  These  things  are  men- 
tioned simply  to  show  that  the  growth  of  cotton  manufac- 
ture in  the  South  is  sympathetic,  and  that  each  factory 
established  is  an  argument  for  others.  There  is  no  invest- 
ment that  has  proved  so  uniformly  successful  in  the  South 
as  that  put  into  cotton  factories.  An  Augusta  factory  just 
advertises  eight  per  cent,  semi-annual  dividend  ;  the  Eagle . 
and  Phoenix,  of  Columbus,  earned  twenty-live  per  cent, 
last  year ;  the  Augusta  factory  for  eleven  years  made  an 
average  of  eighteen  per  cent,  per  annum.  The  net  earnings 
of  the  Langley  Mills  was  $480,000  for  its  first  eight  years 
on  a  capital  of  $400,000,  or  an  average  of  fifteen  per  cent. 
a  year.  The  earnings  of  sixty  Southern  mills,  large  and 
small,  selected  at  random,  for  three  years,  averaged  four- 
teen per  cent,  per  annum. 

Indeed,  an  experience  varied  and  extended  enough  to 
give  it  authority  teaches  that  there  is  absolutely  no  reason 
why  the  South  should  not  profitably  quadruple  its  capacity 
for  the  manufacture  of  cotton  every  year  in  the  next  five 
years  except  the  lack  of  capital.  The  lack  of  skilled  labor 
has  proved  to  be  a  chimerical  fear,  as  the  mills  bring  enough 
of  skilled  labor  to  any  community  in  which  they  are  estab- 
lished to  speedily  educate  up  a  native  force.  It  may  be 
true  that  for  the  most  delicate  work  the  South  will  for  a 
while  lack  the  efficient  labor  of  New  England  that  has  been 
trained  for  generations,  but  it  is  equally  true  that  no  fac- 
tory in  the  South  has  ever  been  stopped  a  week  for  the 
lack  of  suitable  labor.  The  operatives  can  live  cheaper 
than  at  the  North,  and  can  be  had  for  lower  wages.  As 
sensible  a  man  as  Mr.  Edward  Atkinson  claimed  lately  that 
in  the  cotton  country  proper  a  person  could  not  keep  at 
continuous  in-door  labor  during  the  summer.  The  answer 
to  this  is  that  during  the  present  summer,  the  hottest  ever 
known,  not  a  Southern  mill  has  stopped  for  one  day  or 
hour  on  account  of  the  heat,  and  this,  too,  when  scores  of 
establishments  through  the  Western  and  Northern  cities 
were  closed.  One  of  the  strongest  points  of  advantage  the 


280  III:M:V   \v.  <;I:ADY 


South  has  is  th:it  for  no  extreme  of  climate,  acting  on  the 
machinery,  the  operatives,  or  the  water-supply,  is  any  of 
her  mills  forced  to  suspend  work  at  any  season.  Beyond 
this,  Southern  water-powers  can  be  purchased  low,  and  the 
land  adjacent  at  a  son.u'  ;  there  are  no  commissions  to  pay 
on  the  purchase  of  cotton,  no  freight  on  its  transportation, 
and  it  is  submitted  to  the  picker  before  it  has  undergone 
serious  compression.  Mr.  W.  H.  Young,  of  Columbus, 
perhaps  the  best  Southern  authority,  estimates  that  the 
Columbus  mills  have  an  advantage  of  nine-tenths  of  a  cent 
per  pound  over  their  Northern  competitors,  and  this  in  a 
mill  of  1600  looms  will  amount  to  nine  per  cent,  on  the 
entire  capital,  or  $120,099.  The  Southern  mills,  without 
exception,  pulled  through  the  years  of  depression  that 
followed  the  panic  of  1873,  paying  regular  dividends  of 
from  six  per  cent,  to  fifteen,  and,  it  may  be  said,  have 
thoroughly  won  the  confidence  of  investors  North  and 
South.  The  one  thing  that  has  retarded  the  growth  of 
manufacturing  in  the  Cotton  States,  the  lack  of  capital,  is 
being  overcome  with  astonishing  rapidity.  Within  the  past 
two  years  considerably  over  $100,000,000  of  Northern  capi  t  a  1 
has  been  subscribed,  in  lots  of  $1,000,000  and  upward,  for 
the  purchase  and  development  of  Southern  railroads  and 
mining  properties  ;  the  total  will  probably  run  to  $120,- 
000,000.  There  is  now  being  expended  in  the  building  of 
new  railroads  from  Atlanta,  Georgia,  as  headquarters, 
s-1  7.800,  000,  not  one  dollar  of  which  was  subscribed  by 
Georgians  or  by  the  State  of  Georgia.  The  men  who 
invest  these  vast  amounts  in  the  South  are  interested 
in  the  general  development  of  the  section  into  which 
they  have  gone  with  their  enterprise,  and  they  readily 
double  any  local  subscription  for  any  legitimate  local 
improvement.  By  the  sale  of  these  railroad  properties  to 
Northern  syndicates  at  advanced  prices  the  local  stock- 
holders have  realized  heavily  in  cash,  and  this  surplus  is 
seeking  manufacturing  investment.  The  prospect  is  that 
the  next  ten  years  will  witness  a  growth  in  this  direction 
beyond  what  even  the  most  sanguine  predict. 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES. 

The  International  Cotton  Exposition,  opening  October  5, 
of  the  present  year,  in  Atlanta,  must  have  a  tremendous 
influence  in  improving  the  culture,  handling,  and  manu- 
facture of  the  great  staple  of  the  South.  The  Southern 
people  do  not  lack  the  desire  to  keep  abreast  with  improve- 
ment and  invention,  but  on  the  contrary  have  shown  pre- 
cipitate eagerness  in  reaching  out  for  the  best  and  newest. 
Before  the  war,  when  the  Southern  planter  had  a  little  sur- 
plus money  he  bought  a  slave.  Since  the  war,  he  buys  a 
piece  of  machinery.  The  trouble  has  been  that  he  was 
forced  to  buy  without  any  guide  as  to  the  value  of  what  he 
bought,  or  its  adaptability  to  the  purposes  for  which  he 
intended  it.  The  consequence  is  that  the  farms  are  littered 
with  ill-adapted  and  inferior  implements  and  machines, 
representing  twice  the  investment  that,  intelligently  placed, 
would  provide  an  equipment  that  with  half  the  labor  would 
do  better  work.  It  is  the  purpose  of  the  exposition  to 
bring  the  farmers  face  to  face  with  the  very  best  machinery 
that  invention  and  experience  have  produced.  The  build- 
in  4^  themselves  will  be  models  each  of  its  kind,  and  will 
represent  the  judgment  of  experts  as  to  cheapness,  dur- 
ability, safety  and  general  excellence.  The  past  and 
present  will  be  contrasted  in  the  exhibition.  The  old  loom 
on  which  the  rude  fabrics  of  our  forefathers  were  woven 
by  hands  gentle  and  loving  will  be  put  against  the  more 
elaborate  looms  of  to-day.  The  spinning  wheel  of  the  past, 
that  filled  all  the  country-side  with  its,  drowsy  music,  as 
the  dusky  spinner  advanced  and  retreated,  with  not  un 
graceful  courtesy  and  a  swinging  sidewise  shuffle,  will  find 
its  sweet  voice  lost  in  the  hum  of  modern  spindles.  The 
cycle  of  gins  and  ginning  will  be  there  completed,  invention 
coming  back,  after  a  half -century  of  trial  with  the  brutal 
saw,  to  a  perfected  variation  of  the  patient  and  gentle 
roller  with  which  the  precious  fleece  was  pulled  from  the 
seed  years  upon  years  ago.  There  are  the  most  wonderful 
machines  promised,  including  a  half-dozen  that  claim  to 
have  solved  the  problem — supposed  to  be  past  finding  out— 
of  picking  cotton  by  machinery.  Large  fields  flank  the 


HKNKY    W.    GRADY, 

buildings,  and  on  these  are  tested  the  various  kinds  of  cot- 
ton seed,  fed  by  the  various  kinds  of  fertilizers,  each  put  in 
fair  competition  with  the  others. 

One  of  the  most  important  special  inventions  at  the 
exposition  will  be  the  Clement  attachment — a  contrivance 
for  spinning  the  cotton  as  it  comes  from  the  gin.  The 
invention  is  simply  the  marriage  of  the  gin  to  the  spindle. 
These  are  joined  by  two  large  cards  that  take  the  fibre  from 
the  gin,  straighten  it  out,  an-1  pass  it  directly  to  the  spin- 
ning boards,  where  it  is  made  into  the  best  of  yarns.  The 
announcement  of  this  invention  two  years  ago  created  very 
great  excitement.  If  it  proved  a  success,  the  whole  sys- 
tem of  cotton  manufacture  was  changed.  If  the  cotton 
could  be  spun  directly  from  the  gin,  all  the  expense  of 
baling  would  be  eliminated,  and  four  or  five  expensive 
steps  in  the  process  of  cotton  from  field  to  cloth  would  be 
rendered  unnecessary.  Better  than  all,  the  South  argued, 
the  Clement  attachment  brought  the  heaviest  part  of  man- 
ufacturing to  the  cotton  field,  from  which  it  could  never 
be  divorced.  By  the  simple  joining  of  the  spindles  to  the 
gin,  the  cotton,  worth  only  eight  or  nine  cents  as  baled 
lint,  in  which  shape  it  had  been  shipped  North,  became 
worth  sixteen  to  eighteen  cents  as  yarns.  The  home  value 
of  the  crop  was  thus  to  be  doubled,  and  by  such  process  as 
New  England  could  never  capture.  Several  of  the  attach- 
ments were  put  to  work,  and  were  visited  by  thousands. 
They  produced  an%excellent  quality  of  yarns,  and  made  a 
clear  profit  of  two  cents  per  pound  on  the  cotton  treated. 
The  investment  required  was  small,  and  it  was  held  that 
s.-)000  would  certainly  bring  a  net  annual  profit  of  $2200. 
Many  of  these  little  mills  are  still  running,  and  profitably  ; 
but  difficulties  between  the  owner  and  his  agents,  and  a 
general  suspicion  raised  by  his  declining  to  put  the  machine 
on  its  merits  before  certain  agricultural  associations,  pre- 
vented its  general  adoption.  That  this  attachment,  or 
some  machine  of  similar  character  for  spinning  the 
cotton  into  yarns  near  the  field  where  it  is  grown,  will  be 
generally  adopted  through  the  South  in  the  near  future,  I 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  283 

have  not  a  particle  of  doubt ;  that  the  exposition  with  its 
particular  exhibits  on  this  point  will  hasten  the  day,  there 
is  every  reason  to  hope.  There  are  many  yarn  mills  already 
scattered  through  the  South,  but  none  of  them  promise  the 
results  that  will  be  achieved  when  the  spindles  are  wedded 
to  the  gin,  and  the  same  motive  power  drives  both,  carry- 
ing the  cotton  without  delay  or  compression  from  seed  to 
thread. 

Such,  then,  in  brief  and  casual  review,  is  King  Cotton, 
his  subjects,  and  his  realm.  Vast  as  his  concerns  and  pos- 
sessions may  appear  at  present,  they  are  but  the  hint  of 
what  the  future  will  develop.  The  best  authority  puts  the 
amount  of  cotton  goods  manufactured  in  America  at  about 
fourteen  pounds  per  head  of  population,  of  which  twelve 
pounds  per  capita  are  retained  for  home  consumption, 
leaving  only  a  small  margin  for  export.  On  the  Continent 
there  is  but  one  country,  probably — Switzerland — that 
manufactures  more  cotton  goods  than  it  consumes ;  and 
the  Continent  demands  from  Great  Britain  an  amount  of 
cotton  cloth  that,  added  to  its  own  supply,  exhausts  nearly 
one-half  the  product  of  the  English  mills.  It  is  hardly 
probable  that,  under  the  sharp  competition  of  American 
mills,  the  capacity  of  either  England  or  the  Continent  for 
producing  ordinary  cotton  cloths  will  be  greatly  increased. 
But,  with  the  yield  of  the  English  and  Continental  mills 
at  least  measurably  defined  and  now  rapidly  absorbed, 
there  is  an  enormous  demand  for  machine-made  cotton 
fabrics  springing  from  new  and  virtually  exhaustless 
sources.  The  continents  of  Asia,  Africa,  South  America, 
Australia,  and  the  countries  lying  between  the  two  Ameri- 
can continents,  contain  more  than  800,000,000  people, 
according  to  general  authority.  This  immense  population 
is  clothed  in  cotton  almost  exclusively,  and  almost  as 
exclusively  in  hand-made  fabrics.  That  the  cheap  and 
superior  products  »of  the  modern  factory  will  displace 
these  hand-made  goods  as  rapidly  as  they  can  be  delivered 
upon  competing  terms,  cannot  be  doubted.  To  supply 
China  alone  with  cotton  fabrics  made  by  machine,  deduct- 


284  HI-INKY    \V.    GRADY, 

in--  tin-  .T>,  i  ion,  01  io  p.-oplc  or  thereabout  already  supplifd, 
;in<l  fstiniatinL:  tin-  demand  of  tin-  r<- maindcrat  live  pounds 
per  capita,  would  n-ijiiiiv  :$,O<M),<XI<)  additional  bales  of 
cotton  and  :*(),<  )(.>o,ooo  additional  spindles.  Tin-  goods 
in-filed  for  this  di-niand  will  be  the  lower  grades  of  cottons, 
for  the  manufacture  of  which  the  South  is  especially 
adapted,  and  in  which  there  is  serious  reason  to  believe 
she  has  demonstrated  she  has  advantages  over  New 
England.  The  demand  from  Mexico,  Central  and  South 
America,  will  grow  into  immense  proportions  as  cotton  and 
its  products  cheapen  under  increased  supply,  and  improved 
methods  of  culture  and  manufacture.  The  South  will  be 
called  upon  to  furnish  the  cotton  to  meet  the  calls  of  the 
peoples  enumerated.  That  she  can  easily  do  so  has  been 
madf  plain  by  previous  estimate,  but  it  may  be  added  that 
hardly  three  per  cent,  of  the  cotton  area  is  now  devoted  to 
cotton,  and  that  on  one-tenth  of  a  single  Cotton  State — 
Texas — double  the  present  crop  might  be  raised.  AVhether 
or  not  she  will  do  this  profitably,  and  without  destroying 
the  happiness  and  prosperity  of  her  former  population,  and 
building  up  a  land-holding  oligarchy,  depends  on  a  reform 
in  her  system  of  credit  and  her  system  of  planting.  The 
tirst  is  being  effected  by  the  introduction  of  capital  that 
recognizes  farming  lands  as  a  safe  risk  worthy  of  a  low 
percentage  of  interest ;  the  latter  must  depend  on  the 
intelligence  of  her  people,  the  force  of  a  few  bright  exam- 
ples, and  the  wisdom  of  her  leaders.  She  will  be  called 
upon  to  supply  a  large  proportion  of  the  mnnu  far  hired 
goods  for.  this  new  and  limitless  demand.  It  has  already 
been  shown  that  she  has  felicitous  conditions  for  this 
work. 


HIS  LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND    SPEECHES.  285 


IN  PLAIN  BLACK  AND  WHITE.* 


A   REPLY   TO   MR.    CABLE. 

IT  is  strange  that  during  the  discussion  of  the  negro  ques- 
tion, which  has  been  wide. and  pertinent,  no  one  has 
stood  up  to  speak  the  mind  of  the  South.  In  this  discus- 
sion there  has  been  much  of  truth  and  more  of  error — some- 
thing of  perverseness,  but  more  of  misapprehension — not  a 
little  of  injustice,  but  perhaps  less  of  mean  intention. 

Amid  it  all,  the  South  has  been  silent. 

There  has  been,  perhaps,  good  reason  for  this  silence. 
The  problem  under  debate  is  a  tremendous  one.  Its  right 
solution  means  peace,  prosperity,  and  happiness  to  the 
South.  A  mistake,  even  in  the  temper  in  which  it  is 
approached  or  the  theory  upon  which  its  solution  is 
attempted,  would  mean  detriment,  that  at  best  would  be 
serious,  and  might  easily  be  worse.  Hence  the  South  has 
pondered  over  this  problem,  earnestly  seeking  with  all  her 
might  the  honest  and  the  safe  way  out  of  its  entanglements, 
and  saying  little  because  there  was  but  little  to  which  she 
felt  safe  in  committing  herself.  Indeed,  there  was  another 
reason  why  she  did  not  feel  called  upon  to  obtrude  her 
opinions.  The  people  of  the  North,  proceeding  by  the  right 
of  victorious  arms,  had  themselves  undertaken  to  settle  the 
negro  question.  From  the  Emancipation  Proclamation  to 
the  Civil  Rights  Bill  they  hurried  with  little  let  or  hin- 
drance, holding  the  negro  in  the  meanwhile  under  a  sort  of 
tutelage,  from  part  in  which  his  former  masters  were  prac- 
tically excluded.  Under  this  state  of  things  the  South  had 
little  to  do  but  watch  and  learn. 

We  have  now  passed  fifteen  years  of  experiment.  Cer- 
tain broad  principles  have  been  established  as  wise  and  just. 

*  Reprinted  from  The  Century,  April,  1885. 


286  HI-.NKY    W.    GRADY 

The  South  lias  something  to  say  which  she  can  say  with 
confidence.  There  is  no  longer  impropriety  in  her  speaking 
or  lack  of  weight  in  her  words.  The  people  of  the  United 
States  have,  by  their  suffrages,  remitted  to  the  Southern 
people,  temporarily  at  least,  control  of  the  race  question. 
The  decision  of  the  Supreme  Court  on  the  Civil  Rights  Bill 
leaves  practically  to  their  adjustment  important  issues  that 
were,  until  that  decision  was  rendered,  covered  by  .straight 
and  severe  enactment.  These  things  deepen  the  responsi- 
bility of  the  South,  increase  its  concern,  and  confront  it 
with  a  problem  to  which  it  must  address  itself  promptly 
and  frankly.  Where  it  has  been  silent,  it  now  should 
speak.  The  interest  of  every  American  in  the  honorable 
and  equitable  settlement  of  this  question  is  second  only  to 
the  interest  of  those  specially — and  fortunately,  we  believe — 
rliarired  with  its  adjustment.  "What  will  you  do  with 
it  ?  "  is  a  question  any  man  may  now  ask  the  South,  and  to 
which  the  South  should  make  frank  and  full  reply. 

It  is  important  that  this  reply  shall  be  plain  and  straight- 
forward. Above  all  things  it  must  carry  the  genuine  con- 
victions of  the  people  it  represents.  On  this  subject  and  at 
this  time  the  South  cannot  afford  to  be  misunderstood. 
Upon  the  clear  and  general  apprehension  of  her  position 
and  of  her  motives  and  purpose  everything  depends.  She 
cannot  let  pass  unchallenged  a  single  utterance  that,  spoken 
in  her  name,  misstates  her  case  or  her  intention.  It  is  to 
protest  against  just  such  injustice  that  this  article  is 
written. 

In  a  lately  printed  article,  Mr.  George  W.  Cable,  writ- 
ing in  the  name  of  the  Southern  people,  confesses  judgment 
on  points  that  they  still  defend,  and  commits  them  to  a  line 
of  thought  from  which  they  must  forever  dissent.  In  this 
article,  as  in  his  works,  the  singular  tenderness  and  beauty 
of  which  have  justly  made  him  famous,  Mr.  Cable  is  senti- 
mental rather  than  practical.  But  the  reader,  enchained 
by  the  picturesque  style  and  misled  by  the  engaging  can- 
dor with  which  the  author  admits  the  shortcomings  of  "  We 
of  the  South,"  and  the  kindling  enthusiasm  with  which  he 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  287 

tells  how  "  We  of  the  South  "  must  make  reparation,  is  apt 
to  assume  that  it  is  really  the  soul  of  the  South  that  breathes 
through  Mr.  Cable's  repentant  sentences.  It  is  not  my  pur- 
pose to  discuss  Mr.  Cable's  relations  to  the  people  for  whom 
he  claims  to  speak.  Born  in  the  South,  of  Northern  parents, 
he  appears  to  have  had  little  sympathy  with  his  Southern 
environment,  as  in  1882  he  wrote,  "To  be  in  New  England 
would  be  enough  for  me.  I  was  there  "once, — a  year  ago,— 
and  it  seemed  as  if  I  had  never  been  home  till  then."  It 
will  be  suggested  that  a  man  so  out  of  harmony  with  his 
neighbors  as  to  say,  even  after  he  had  fought  side  by  side 
with  them  on  the  battle-field,  that  he  never  felt  at  home 
until  he  had  left  them,  cannot  speak  understandingly  of 
their  views  on  so  vital  a  subject  as  that  under  discussion. 
But  it  is  with  his  statement  rather  than  his  personality  that 
we  have  to  deal.  Does  he  truly  represent  the  South  ?  We 
reply  that  he  does  not !  There  may  be  here  and  there  in 
the  South  a  dreaming  theorist  who  subscribes  to  Mr.  Cable's 
teachings.  We  have  seen  no  signs  of  one.  Among  the 
thoughtful  men  of  the  South, — the  men  who  felt  that  all 
brave  men  might  quit  fighting  when  General  Lee  surrend- 
ered,— who,  enshrining  in  their  hearts  the  heroic  memories 
of  the  cause  they  had  lost,  in  good  faith  accepted  the  arbi- 
trament of  the  sword  to  which  they  had  appealed,— who 
bestirred  themselves  cheerfully  amid  the  ruins  of  their 
homes,  and  set  about  the  work  of  rehabilitation, — who  have 
patched  and  mended  and  builded  anew,  and  fashioned  out 
of  pitiful  resource  a  larger  prosperity  than  they  ever  knew 
before, — who  have  set  their  homes  on  the  old  red  hills,  and 
staked  their  honor  and  prosperity  and  the  peace  and  well- 
being  of  the  children  who  shall  come  after  them  on  the  clear 
and  equitable  solution  of  every  social,  industrial,  or  politi- 
cal problem  that  concerns  the  South, — among  these  men, 
who  control  and  will  continue  to  control,  I  do  know,  there 
is  general  protest  against  Mr.  Cable's  statement  of  the  case, 
and  universal  protest  against  his  suggestions  for  the  future. 
The  mind  of  these  men  I  shall  attempt  to  speak,  maintain- 
ing my  right  to  speak  for  them  with  the  pledge  that,  hav- 


288  H  i:\UY    \V.    GRADY, 


exceptional  means  for  knowing  their  views  on  this  sub- 
ject, and  havinir  spared  no  pains  to  keep  fully  infonin-d 
thereof,  I  shall  write  down  nothing  in  their  name  on  which 
1  have  found  even  a  fractional  did'en-nce  of  opinion. 

A  careful  reading  of  Mr.  Cable's  article  discloses  the 
following  argument:  The  Southern  people  have  ddi  I>»T- 
ately  and  persistently  evaded  the  laws  forced  on  them  for 
th«-  protection  of  the  freedman  ;  tliis  evasion  has  been  the 
result  of  prejudices  born  of  and  surviving  the  institution  of 
slavery,  the  only  way  to  remove  which  is  to  break  down 
every  distinction  between  the  races  ;  and  now  the  best 
thought  of  the  South,  alarmed  at  the  withdrawal  of  the 
political  machinery  that  forced  the  passage  of  the  protec- 
tive laws,  which  withdrawal  tempts  further  and  more  intol- 
erable evasions,  is  moving  to  forbid  all  further  assortment 
of  the  races  and  insist  on  their  intermingling  in  all  places 
and  in  all  relations.  The  first  part  of  this  argument  is  a 
matter  of  record,  and,  from  the  Southern  stand-point, 
mainly  a  matter  of  reputation.  It  can  bide  its  time.  The 
suggestion  held  in  its  conclusion  is  so  impossible,  so  mis- 
chievous, and,  in  certain  aspects,  so  monstrous,  that  it  must 
be  met  at  once. 

It  is  hard  to  think  about  the  negro  with  exactness. 
His  helplessness,  his  generations  of  enslavement,  his  unique 
position  among  the  peoples  of  the  earth,  his  distinctive 
color,  his  simple,  lovable  traits,  —  all  these  combine  to  hasten 
opinion  into  conviction  where  he  is  the  subject  of  discussion. 
Three  times  has  this  tendency  brought  about  epochal  results 
in  his  history.  First,  it  abolished  slavery.  For  this  all 
men  nre  thankful,  even  those  who,  because  of  the  ;  i 

injustice  and  violence  of  the  means  by  which  it  was  bron-nt 
about,  opposed  its  accomplishment.  Second,  it  made  him 
a  voter.  This,  done  more  in  a  sense  of  reparation  than  in 
judgment,  is  as  final  as  the  other.  The  North  demanded 
it;  the  South  expected  it;  all  acquiesced  in  it,  and.  vise 
or  unwise,  it  will  stand.  Third,  it  fixed  1>\-  enactment  his 
social  and  civil  rights.  And  here,  for  the  lir*-f  time  the 
revolution  faltered.  Up  to  this  point  the  way  had  been 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  289 

plain,  the  light  clear,  and  the  march  at  quick-step.  Here 
the  line  halted.  The  way  was  lost ;  there  was  hesitation, 
division,  and  uncertainty.  Knowing  not  which  way  to 
turn,  and  enveloped  in  doubt,  the  revolutionists  heard  the 
retreat  sounded  by  the  Supreme  Court  with  small  reluct- 
ance, and,  to  use  Mr.  Cable's  words,  "bewildered  by  com- 
plication, vexed  by  many  a  blunder,"  retired  from  the  field. 
See,  then,  the  progress  of  this  work.  The  first  step,  right 
by  universal  agreement,  would  stand  if  the  law  that  made 
it  were  withdrawn.  The  second  step,  though  irrevocable, 
raises  doubts  as  to  its  wisdom.  The  third,  wrong  in  pur- 
pose, has  failed  in  execution.  It  stands  denounced  as  null 
by  the  highest  court,  as  inoperative  by  general  confession, 
and  as  unwise  by  popular  verdict.  Let  us  take  advantage 
of  this  halt  in  the  too  rapid  revolution,  and  see  exactly 
where  we  stand  and  what  is  best  for  us  to  do.  The  situa- 
tion is  critical.  The  next  moment  may  formulate  the  work 
of  the  next  twenty  years.  The  tremendous  forces  of  the 
revolution,  unspent  and  still  terrible,  are  but  held  in  arrest. 
Launch  them  mistakenly,  chaos  may  come.  Wrong-head- 
edness  may  be  as  fatal  now  as  wrong-heartedness.  Clear 
views,  clear  statement,  and  clear  understanding  are  the 
demands  of  the  hour.  Given  these,  the  common  sense  and 
courage  of  the  American  people  will  make  the  rest  easy. 

Let  it  be  understood  in  the  beginning,  then,  that  the 
South  will  never  adopt  Mr.  Cable's  suggestion  of  the  social 
intermingling  of  the  races.  It  can  never  be  driven  into 
accepting  it.  So  far  from  there  being  a  growing  sentiment 
in  the  South  in  favor  of  the  indiscriminate  mixing  of  the 
•races,  the  intelligence  of  both  races  is  moving  farther  from 
that  proposition  day  by  day.  It  is  more  impossible  (if  I 
may  shade  a  superlative)  now  than  it  was  ten  years  ago  ;  it 
will  be  less  possible  ten  years  hence.  Neither  race  wants 
it.  The  interest,  as  the  inclination,  of  both  races  is  against 
it.  Here  the  issue  with  Mr.  Cable  is  made  up.  He  denoun- 
ces any  assortment  of  the  races  as  unjust,  and  demands 
that  Avhite  and  black  shall  intermingle  everywhere.  The 
South  replies  that  the  assortment  of  the  races  is  wise  and 


290  HKM:V   \v.  GRADY, 

proper,  and  stands  on  t  he  platform  of  equal  accommodation 
for  each  rare,  but  separate. 

Tin-  difference  is  an  essential  one.  Deplore  or  defend  it 
as  \ve  may,  an  antagonism  is  luvd  between  The  races  when 
they  are  forced  into  mixed  assemblages.  This  sinks  out  of 
sight,  it'  not  out  of  existence,  when  each  race  moves  in  its 
own  sphere.  Mr.  Cable  admits  this  feeling,  but  doubts 
that  it  is  instinctive.  In  my  opinion  it  is  inMinctive— 
deeper  than  prejudice  or  pride,  and  bred  in  the  bone  and 
blood.  It  would  make  itself  felt  even  in  sections  where 
popular  prejudice  runs  counter  to  its  manifestation.  If  in 
any  town  in  Wisconsin  or  Vermont  there  was  equal  popu- 
lation of  whites  and  blacks,  and  schools,  churches,  hotels, 
and  theaters  were  in  common,  this  instinct  would  assuredly 
develop  ;  the  races  would  separate,  and  each  race  would 
hasten  the  separation.  Let  me  give  an  example  that 
touches  this  supposition  closely.  Bishop  Gilbert  Haven,  of 
the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  many  years  ago  came  to 
the  South  earnestly,  and  honestly,  we  may  believe,  devoted 
to  breaking  up  the  assortment  of  the  races.  He  was  backed 
by  powerful  influences  in  the  North.  He  was  welcomed  by 
resident  Northerners  in  the  South  (then  in  control  of 
Southern  affairs)  as  an  able  and  eloquent  exponent  of  their 
views.  His  first  experiment  toward  mixing  the  races  was 
made  in  the  church — surely  the  most  propitious  field. 
Here  the  fraternal  influence  of  religion  emphasized  his 
appeals  for  the  brotherhood  of  the  races.  What  was  the 
result  ?  After  the  first  month  his  church  was  decimated. 
The  Northern  whites  and  the  Southern  blacks  left  it  in 
squads.  The  dividing  influences  were  mutual.  The  stout 
bishop  contended  with  prayer  and  argument  and  threat 
against  the  inevitable,  but  finally  succumbed.  Two  separ- 
ate churches  were  established,  and  each  race  worshiped  to 
itself.  There  had  been  no  collision,  no  harsh  words,  no 
discussion  even.  Each  race  simply  obeyed  its  instinct, 
that  spoke  above  the  appeal  of  the  bishop  and  dominated 
the  divine  influences  that  pulsed  from  pew  to  pew.  Time 
and  again  did  the  bishop  force  the  experiment.  Time  and 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  291 

again  he  failed.  At  last  he  was  driven  to  the  confession 
that  but  one  thing  could  effect  what  he  had  tried  so  hard  to 
bring  about,  and  that  was  miscegenation.  A  few  years  of 
experiment  would  force  Mr.  Cable  to  the  same  conclusion. 

The  same  experiment  was  tried  on  a  larger  scale  by  the 
Methodist  Episcopal  Church  (North)  when  it  established 
its  churches  in  the  South  after  the  war.  It  essayed  to 
bring  the  races  together,  and  in  its  conferences  and  its 
churches  there  was  no  color  line.  Prejudice  certainly  did 
not  operate  to  make  a  division  here.  On  the  contrary,  the 
whites  and  blacks  of  this  church  were  knit  together  by 
prejudice,  pride,  sentiment,  political  and  even  social  policy. 
Underneath  all  this  was  a  race  instinct,  obeying  which, 
silently,  they  drifted  swiftly  apart.  While  white  Metho- 
dists of  the  church  North  and  of  the  church  South,  distant 
from  each  other  in  all  but  the  kinship  of  race  and  worship, 
were  struggling  to  eifect  once  more  a  union  of  the  churches 
that  had  been  torn  apart  by  a  quarrel  over  slavery,  so  that 
in  every  white  conference  and  every  white  church  on  all 
this  continent  white  Methodists  could  stand  in  restored 
brotherhood,  the  Methodist  Church  (North)  agreed,  with- 
out serious  protest,  to  a  separation  of  its  Southern  branch 
into  two  conferences  of  whites  and  of  blacks,  and  into  sep- 
arate congregations  where  the  proportion  of  either  race 
was  considerable.  Was  it  without  reason — it  certainly  was 
not  through  prejudice — that  this  Church,  while  seeking 
anew  fusion  with  its  late  enemies,  consented  to  separate 
from  its  new  friends  ? 

It  was  the  race  instinct  that  spoke  there.  It  spoke  not 
with  prejudice,  but  against  it.  It  spoke  there  as  it  speaks 
al \vays  and  everywhere — as  it  has  spoken  for  two  thousand 
years.  And  it  spoke  to  the  reason  of  each  race.  Millaud.  in 
voting  in  the  French  Convention  for  the  beheading  of  Louis 
XVI.,  said  :  "If  death  did  not  exist,  it  would  be  necessary 
to-day  to  invent  it."  So  of  this  instinct.  It  is  the  pledge  of 
the  integrity  of  each  race,  and  of  peace  between  the  races. 
Without  it,  there  might  be  a  breaking  down  of  all  lines  of 
division  and  a  thorough  intermingling  of  whites  and  blacks. 


292  1IKNKY    W.    (iltADY, 

'I'll is  once  accomplished,  the  lower  and  the  weaker  elements 
of  the  races  would  begin  to  fuse  and  the  process  of  amal- 
gamation  would  have  begun.  This  would  mean  tin-  disor- 
ganization of  society.  An  internecine  war  would  be  pre- 
cipitated. The  whites,-  at  any  cost  and  at  any  hazard, 
would  maintain  the  clear  integrity  and  dominance  of  the 
Anglo-Saxon  blood.  They  understand  perfectly  that  the 
debasement  of  their  own  race  would  not  profit  the  humble 
and  sincere  race  with  which  their  lot  is  cast,  and  that  the 
hybrid  would  not  gain  what  either  race  lost.  Even  if  the 
vigor  and  the  volume  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  blood  would  ena- 
ble it  to  absorb  the  African  current,  and  after  many  gener- 
ations recover  its  own  strength  and  purity,  not  all  the 
powers  of  earth  could  control  the  unspeakable  horrors  that 
would  wait  upon  the  slow  process  of  clarification.  Easier 
far  it  would  be  to  take  the  population  of  central  New 
York,  intermingle  with  it  an  equal  percentage  of  Indians, 
and  force  amalgamation  between  the  two.  Let  us  review 
the  argument.  If  Mr.  Cable  is  correct  in  assuming  that 
there  is  no  instinct  that  keeps  the  two  races  separate  in  the 
South,  then  there  is  no  reason  for  doubting  that  if  inter- 
mingled they  would  fuse.  Mere  prejudice  would  not  long 
survive  perfect  equality  and  social  intermingling  -,  and  the 
prejudice  once  gone,  intermarrying  would  begin.  Then,  if 
there  is  a  race  instinct  in  either  race  that  resents  intimate 
association  with  the  other,  it  would  be  unwise  to  force  such 
association  when  there  are  easy  and  just  alternatives.  If 
there  is  no  such  instinct,  the  mixing  of  the  races  would 
mean  amalgamation,  to  which  the  whites  will  never  submit, 
and  to  which  neither  race  should  submit.  So  that  in  either 
case,  whether  the  race  feeling  is  instinct  or  prejudice,  we 
come  to  but  one  conclusion  :  The  white  and  black  races  in 
the  South  must  walk  apart.  Concurrent  their  courses  may 
go— ought  to  go— will  go — but  separate.  If  instinct  did 
not  make  this  plain  in  a  flash,  reason  would  spell  it  out 
letter  by  letter. 

Now,  let  us  see.     We  hold  that  there  is  an  instinct,  ine- 
radicable and  positive,  that  will  keep  the  races  apart,  that 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  293 

would  keep  the  races  apart  if  the  problem  were  transferred 
to  Illinois  or  to  Maine,  and  that  will  resist  every  effort  of 
appeal,  argument,  or  force  to  bring  them  together.  We 
add  in  perfect  frankness,  however,  that  if  no  such  instinct 
existed,  or  if  the  South  had  reasonable  doubt  of  its  exist- 
ence, it  would,  by  every  means  in  its  power,  so  strengthen 
the  race  prejudice  that  it  would  do  the  work  and  hold  the 
stubbornness  and  strength  of  instinct.  The  question  that 
confronts  us  at  this  point  is  :  Admitted  this  instinct,  that 
gathers  each  race  to  itself.  Then,  do  you  believe  it  possi- 
ble to  carry  forward  on  the  same  soil  and  under  the  same 
laws  two  races  equally  free,  practically  equal  in  numbers, 
and  yet  entirely  distinct  and  separate  ?  This  is  a  moment- 
ous.question.  It  involves  a  problem  that,  all  things  con- 
sidered, is  without  a  precedent  or  parallel.  Can  the  South 
carry  this  problem  in  honor  and  in  peace  to  an  equitable 
solution  ?  We  reply  that  for  ten  years  the  South  has  been 
doing  this  very  thing,  and  with  at  least  apparent  success. 
No  impartial  and  observant  man  can  say  that  in  the 
present  aspect  of  things  there  is  cause  for  alarm,  or 
even  for  doubt.  In  the  experience  of  the  past  few 
years  there  is  assuredly  reason  for  encouragement. 
There  may  be  those  who  discern  danger  in  the  dis- 
tant future.  We  do  not.  Beyond  the  apprehensions 
which  must  for  a  long  time  attend  a  matter  so  serious,  we 
see  nothing  but  cause  for  congratulation.  In  the  common 
sense  and  the  sincerity  of  the  negro,  no  less  than  in  the  in- 
telligence and  earnestness  of  the  whites,  we  find  the  prob- 
lem simplifying.  So  far  from  the  future  bringing  trouble, 
we  feel  confident  that  another  decade  or  so,  confirming 
the  experience  of  the  past  ten  years,  will  furnish  the  solu- 
tion to  be  accepted  of  all  men. 

Let  us  examine  briefly  what  the  South  has  been  doing, 
and  study  the  attitude  of  the  races  toward  each  other. 
Let  us  do  this,  not  so  much  to  vindicate  the  past  as  to  clear 
the  way  for  the  future.  Let  us  see  what  the  situation 
teaches.  There  must  be  in  the  experience  of  fifteen  years 
something  definite  and  suggestive.  We  begin  with  the 


294  HKN'RY    W.    GRADY, 

schools    and    school    management,   as    the  basis    of    the 
rest. 

Every  Southern  State  has  a  common-school  system,  and 
in  every  State  separate  schools  are  provided  for  the  races. 
Almost  rvt-ry  city  of  more  than  five  thousand  inhabitants 
has  a  ]>ul>lic-school  system,  andin  every  city  the  schools  for 
whites  and  blacks  are  separate.  There  is  no  exception  to 
this  rule  that  I  can  find.  In  many  cases  the  law  creating 
ihis  system  requires  that  separate  schools  shall  be  provided 
for  the  races.  This  plan  works  admirably.  There  is  no 
friction  in  the  administration  of  the  schools,  and  no  sus- 
picion as  to  the  ultimate  tendency  of  the  system.  The  road 
to  school  is  clear,  and  both  races  walk  therein  with  confi- 
dence. The  whites,  assured  that  the  school  will  not  be  made 
the  hot-bed  of  false  and  pernicious  ideas,  or  the  scene  of 
unwise  associations,  support  the  system  cordially,  and  insist 
on  perfect  equality  in  grade  and  efficiency.  The  blacks, 
asking  no  more  than  this,  fill  the  schools  with  alert  and 
eager  children.  So  far  from  feeling  debased  by  the  separ- 
ate-school S3rstem,  they  insist  that  the  separation  shall  be 
carried  further,  and  the  few  white  teachers  yet  presiding 
over  negro  schools  supplanted  by  negro  teachers.  The 
appropriations  for  public  schools  are  increased  year  after 
year,  and  free  education  grows  constantly  in  strength  and 
popularity.  Cities  that  were  afraid  to  commit  themselves 
to  free  schools  while  mixed  schools  were  a  possibility  com- 
menced building  school-houses  as  soon  as  separate  schools 
were  assured.  In  1870  the  late  Benjamin  H.  Hill  found  his 
matchless  eloquence  unable  to  carry  the  suggestion  of  negro 
education  into  popular  tolerance.  Ten  years  later  nearly 
one  million  black  children  attended  free-schools,  supported 
by  general  taxation.  Though  the  whites  pay  nineteen- 
twentieths  of  the  tax,  they  insist  that  the  blacks  shall  share 
its  advantages  equally.  The  schools  for  each  race  are 
opened  on  the  same  day  and  closed  on  the  same  day. 
Neither  is  run  a  single  day  at  the  expense  of  the  other. 
The  negroes  are  satisfied  with  the  situation.  I  am  aware 
that  some  of  the  Northern  teachers  of  negro  high-schools 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND    SPEECHES.  295 

and  universities  will  controvert  this.  Touching  their 
opinion,  I  have  only  to  say  that  it  can  hardly  be  considered 
fair  or  conservative.  Under  the  forcing  influence  of  social 
ostracism,  they  have  reasoned  impatiently  and  have  been 
helped  to  conclusions  by  quick  sympathies  or  resentments. 
Driven  back  upon  themselves  and  hedged  in  by  suspicion 
or  hostility,  their  service  has  become  a  sort  of  martyrdom, 
which  has  swiftly  stimulated  opinion  into  conviction  and 
conviction  into  fanaticism.  I  read  in  a  late  issue  of  Z ion's 
Herald  a  letter  from  one  of  these  teachers,  who  declined, 
on  the  conductor's  request,  to  leave  the  car  in  which  she 
was  riding,  and  which  was  set  apart  exclusively  for  negroes. 
The  conductor,  therefore,  presumed  she  was  a  quadroon, 
and  stated  his  presumption  in  answer  to  the  inquiry  of  a 
young  negro  man  who  was  with  her.  She  says  of  this  : 

"Truly,  a  glad  thrill  went  through  my  heart — a  thrill  of  pride. 
Tliis  great  autocrat  had  pronounced  me  as  not  only  in  sympathy,  but 
also  one  in  blood,  with  the  truest,  tenderest,  and  noblest  race  that 
dwells  on  earth." 

If  this  quotation,  which  is  now  before  me,  over  the 
writer's  name,  suggests  that  she  and  those  of  her  colleagues 
who  agree  with  her  have  narrowed  within  their  narrowing 
environment,  and  acquired  artificial  enthusiasm  under  their 
unnatural  conditions,  so  that  they  must  be  unsafe  as  advis- 
ers and  unfair  as  witnesses,  the  sole  purpose  for  which  it 
is  introduced  will  have  been  served.  This  suggestion  does 
not  reach  all  Northern  teachers  of  negro  schools.  Some 
have  taken  broader  counsels,  awakened  wider  sympathies, 
and,  as  a  natural  result,  hold  more  moderate  views.  The 
influence  of  the  extremer  faction  is  steadily  diminishing. 
Set  apart,  as  small  and  curious  communities  are  set  here 
and  there  in  populous  States,  stubborn  and  stiff  for  a  while, 
but  overwhelmed  at  last  and  lost  in  the  mingling  currents, 
these  dissenting  spots  will  be  ere  long  blotted  out  and  for- 
gotten. The  educational  problem,  which  is  their  special 
care,  has  already  been  settled,  and  the  settlement  accepted 
with  a  heartiness  that  precludes  the  possibility  of  its  dis- 
turbance. From  the  stand-point  of  either  race  the  experi- 


200  IIK.NKV    W.    GRADY, 

ment  of  distinct  but  equal  schools  for  the  white  and  black 
children  of  the  South  has  demonstrated  its  wisdom,  its 
policy,  and  its  justice,  if  any  experiment  ever  made  plain 
its  wisdom  in  tin-  hands  of  finite  man. 

I  quote  on  this  subject  Gustavus  J.  Orr,  one  of  the 
wisest  and  best  of  men,  and  lately  elected,  by  spontaneous 
movement,  president  of  the  National  Educational  A  varia- 
tion. He  says:  "The  race  question  in  the  schools  is 
already  settled.  We  give  the  negroes  equal  advantages, 
but  separate  schools.  This  plan  meets  the  reason  and  sat- 
isfies the  instinct  of  both  races.  Under  it  we  have  spent 
over  five  million  dollars  in  Georgia,  and  the  system  grows 
in  strength  constantly."  I  asked  if  the  negroes  wanted 
mixed  schools.  His  reply  was  prompt :  "  They  do  not.  I 
have  questioned  them  carefully  on  this  point,  and  they 
make  but  one  reply  :  '  'They  want  their  children  in  their  own 
schools  and  under  their  own  teachers."  I  asked  what 
would  be  the  effect  of  mixed  schools.  "  I  could  not  main- 
tain the  Georgia  system  one  year.  Both  races  would  pro- 
test against  it.  My  record  as  a  public-school  man  is  known. 
I  have  devoted  my  life  to  the  work  of  education.  But  I 
am  so  sure  of  the  evils  that  would  come  from  mixed  schools 
that,  even  if  they  were  possible,  I  would  see  the  whole 
educational  system  swept  away  before  I  would  see  them 
established.  There  is  an  instinct  that  gathers  each  race 
about  itself.  It  is  as  strong  in  the  blacks  as  in  the  whites, 
though  it  has  not  asserted  itself  so  strongly.  It  is  making 
itself  manifest,  since  the  blacks  are  organizing  a  social  sys- 
tem of  their  own.  It  has  long  controlled  them  in  their 
churches,  and  it  is  now  doing  so  in  their  schools." 

In  churches,  as  in  schools,  the  separation  is  perfect. 
The  negroes,  in  all  denominations  in  which  their  member- 
ship is  an  appreciable  percentage  of  the  whole,  have  their 
own  churches,  congregations,  pastors,  conferences,  bishops, 
and  their  own  missionaries.  There  is  not  the  slightest 
antagonism  between  them  and  the  white  churches  of  the 
same  denomination.  On  the  contrary,  there  is  sympa- 
thetic interest  and  the  utmost  friendliness.  The  separation 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  297 

is  recognized  as  not  only  instinctive  but  wise.  There  is  no 
disposition  to  disturb  it,  and  least  of  all  on  the  part  of  the 
negro.  The  church  is  with  him  the  center  of  social  life, 
and  there  he  wants  to  find  his  own  people  and  no  others. 
Let  me  quote  just  here  a  few  sentences  from  a  speech 
delivered  by  a  genuine  black  negro  at  the  General  Confer- 
ence of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church  (South),  in  Atlanta, 
Georgia,  in  1880.  He  is  himself  a  pastor  of  the  African 
Methodist  Church,  and  came  as  a  fraternal  delegate.  This 
extract  from  a  speech,  largely  extempore,  is  a  fair  specimen 
of  negro  eloquence,  as  it  is  a  fair  evidence  of  the  feeling  of 
that  people  toward  their  white  neighbors.  He  said  : 

"Mr.  Chairman,  Bishops,  and  Brethren  in  Christ:  Let  me  here 
state  a- circumstance  which  has  just  now  occurred.  When  in  the 
vestry,  there  we  were  consulting  your  committee,  among  whom  is 
your  illustrious  Christian  Governor,  the  Honorable  A.  H.  Colquitt 
[applause],  feeling  an  unusual  thirst,  and  expecting  in  a  few  moments 
to  appear  before  you,  thoughtlessly  I  asked  him  if  there  was  water  to 
drink.  He,  looking  about  the  room,  answered,  '  There  is  none  ;  I  will 
get  you  some.'  I  insisted  not  ;  but  presently  it  was  brought  by  a 
brother  minister,  and  handed  me  by  the  Governor.  I  said  :  '  Governor, 
you  must  allow  me  to  deny  myself  this  distinguished  favor,  as  it  recalls 
so  vividly  the  episode  of  the  warrior  king  of  Israel,  when,  with  parched 
lips,  he  cried  from  the  rocky  cave  of  Adullam,  '  Oh  !  that  one  would 
give  me  drink  of  water  of  the  well  of  Bethlehem  that  is  at  the  gate.' 
And  when  three  of  his  valiant  captains  broke  through  the  host  of  the 
enemy,  and  returned  to  him  with  the  water  for  which  his  soul  was 
longing,  regarding  it  as  the  water  of  life,  he  would  not  drink  it,  but 
poured  it  out  to  the  Lord.'  [Applause.]  So  may  this  transcendent 
emblem  of  purity  and  love,  from  the  hand  of  your  most  honored 
co-laborer  and  friend  of  the  human  race,  ever  remain  as  a  memorial 
unto  the  Lord  of  the  friendship  existing  between  the  Methodist  Episco- 
pal Church  South  and  the  African  Methodist  Episcopal  Church  upon 
this  the  first  exchange  of  formal  fraternal  greeting.  [Applause.] 

"In  the  name  of  the  African  Methodist  Episcopal  Church, — and 
I  declare  the  true  sentiments  of  thousands, — I  say,  that  for  your  Church 
and  your  race  we  cherish  the  kindliest  feelings  that  ever  found  a  lodg- 
ment in  the  human  breast.  [Applause.]  Of  this  you  need  not  be  told. 
Let  speak  your  former  missionaries  among  us,  who  now  hold  seats 
upon  this  floor,  and  whose  hearts  have  so  often  burned  within  them  as 
they  have  seen  the  word  sown  by  them  in  such  humble  soil  burst  forth 
into  abundant  prosperity.  Ask  the  hundred  thousand  of  your  laymen 


298  i:v    \v.  <,I:ADY, 

who  still  survive  the  dead,  how  we  conducted  ourselves  as  tillers  of  the 
soil,  as  servants  about  tin-  dwelling,  and  as  common  worshipers  in  the 
temple  of  God  !  Aslc  your  kittle  -M-arn-d  veterans,  who  left  their  all  to 
the  mercy  of  relentless  riivmn.-.tanei-s,  and  went,  in  answer  to  the 
clarion  call  of  the  trumpet,  to  the  gigantic  and  unnatural  strife  of  the 
second  revolution  !  Ask  them  who  looked  at  their  interests  at  home 
[great  cheering]  ;  who  raised  their  earthworks  upon  the  field  ;  who 
buried  the  young  hero  so  far  away  from  his  home,  or  returned  his 
ashes  to  the  stricken  hearts  which  hung  breathless  upon  the  hour  ; 
who  protected  their  wives  and  little  ones  from  the  ravages  of  wild 
beasts,  and  the  worse  ravages  of  famine  !  And  the  answer  is  returned 
from  a  million  heaving  bosoms,  as  a  monument  of  everlasting  remem- 
brance to  the  benevolence  of  the  colored  race  in  America.  [Immense 
applause.]  And  these  are  they  who  greet  you  to-day,  through  their 
chief  organization,  the  African  Methodist  Episcopal  Church  in  the 
United  States  of  America.  [Loud  and  continued  applause.] 

"  And  now,  though  the  yoke  which  bound  the  master  and  the  slave 
together  in  such  close  and  mutual  responsibility  has  been  shivered  by 
the  rude  shock  of  war,  we  find  ourselves  still  standing  by  your  side  as 
natural  allies  against  an  unfriendly  world."  [Applause.] 

In  their  social  institutions,  as  in  their  churches  and 
schools,  the  negroes  have  obeyed  their  instinct  and  kept 
apart  from  the  whites.  They  have  their  own  social  and 
benevolent  societies,  their  own  military  companies,  their 
own  orders  of  Masons  and  Odd  Fellows.  They  rally  about 
these  organizations  with  the  greatest  enthusiasm  and  sup- 
port them  with  the  greatest  liberality.  If  it  were  proposed 
to  merge  them  with  white  organizations  of  the  same  char- 
acter, with  equal  rights  guaranteed  in  all,  the  negroes 
would  interpose  the  stoutest  objection.  Their  tastes,  asso- 
ciations, and  inclinations — their  instincts — lead  them  to 
gather  their  race  about  social  centers  of  its  own.  I  am 
tempted  into  trying  to  explain  here  what  I  have  never  yet 
seen  a  stranger  to  the  South  able  to  understand.  The  feel- 
ing that,  by  mutual  action,  separates  whites  and  blacks 
when  they  are  thrown  together  in  social  intercourse  is  not 
a  repellent  influence  in  the  harsh  sense  of  that  word.  It  is 
centripetal  rather  than  centrifugal.  It  is  attractive  about 
separate  centers  rather  than  expulsive  from  a  common  cen- 
ter. There  is  no  antagonism,  for  example,  between  white 


HIS    LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND    SPEECHES.  299 

and  black  military  companies.  On  occasions  they  parade 
in  the  same  street,  and  have  none  of  the  feeling  that  exists 
between  Orangemen  and  Catholics.  Of  course  the  good 
sense  of  each  race  and  the  mutual  recognition  of  the  pos- 
sible dangers  of  the  situation  have  much  to  do  with  main- 
taining the  good-will  between  the  distinct  races.  The  fact 
that  in  his  own  church  or  society  the  negro  has  more  free- 
dom, more  chance  for  leadership  and  for  individual  devel- 
opment, than  he  could  have  in  association  with  the  whites, 
has  more  to  do  with  it.  But  beyond  all  this  is  the  fact 
that,  in  the  segregation  of  the  races,  blacks  as  well  as 
whites  obey  a  natural  instinct,  which,  always  granting  that 
they  get  equal  justice  and  equal  advantages,  they  obey 
without  the  slightest  ill-nature  or  without  any  sense  of 
disgrace.  They  meet  the  white  people  in  all  the  avenues 
of  business.  They  work  side  by  side  with  the  white  brick- 
layer or  carpenter  in  perfect  accord  and  friendliness. 
When  the  trowel  or  the  hammer  is  laid  aside,  the  laborers 
part,  each  going  his  own  way.  Any  attempt  to  carry  the 
comradeship  of  the  day  into  private  life  would  be  sternly 
resisted  by  both  parties  in  interest. 

We  have  seen  that  in  churches,  schools,  and  social  organ- 
izations the  whites  and  blacks  are  moving  along  separately 
but  harmoniously,  and  that  the  "  assortment  of  the  races," 
which  has  been  described  as  shameful  and  unjust,  is  in 
most  part  made  by  the  instinct  of  each  race,  and  commands 
the  hearty  assent  of  both.  Let  us  now  consider  the  ques- 
tion of  public  carriers.  On  this  point  the  South  has  been 
sharply  criticised,  and  not  always  without  reason.  It  is 
manifestly  wrong  to  make  a  negro  pay  as  much  for  a  rail- 
road ticket  as  a  white  man  pays,  and  then  force  him  to 
accept  inferior  accommodations.  It  is  equally  wrong  to 
force  a  decent  negro  into  an  indecent  car,  when  there  is 
room  for  him  or  for  her  elsewhere.  Public  sentiment  in 
the  South  has  long  recognized  this,  and  has  persistently 
demanded  that  the  railroad  managers  should  provide 
cars  for  the  negroes  equal  in  every  respect  to  those 
set  apart  for  the  whites,  and  that  these  cars  should 


300  1 1  K.NKY    \V.    GRADY, 

be  kept  clean  and  orderly.  In  Georgia  a  State  law 
requires  all  public  roads  or  carriers  to  provide  equal  ac- 
commodation for  each  race,  and  failure  to  do  so  is  made  a 
penal  offense.  In  Tennessee  a  negro  unman  lately  gained 
damages  by  proving  that  she  had  been  forced  to  take 
inferior  accommodation  on  a  train.  The  railroads  have, 
with  few  exceptions,  come  up  to  the  requirements  of  the 
law.  Where  they  fail,  they  quickly  feel  the  weight  of 
public  opinion,  and  shock  the  sense  of  public  justice.  This 
very  discussion,  I  am  bound  to  say,  will  lessen  such  fail- 
ures in  the  future.  On  four  roads,  in  my  knowledge,  even 
better  has  been  done  than  the  law  requires.  The  car  set 
apart  for  the  negroes  is  made  exclusive.  No  whites  are 
permitted  to  occupy  it.  A  white  man  who  strays  into  this 
car  is  politely  told  that  it  is  reserved  for  the  negroes.  He 
has  the  information  repeated  two  or  three  times,  smiles, 
and  retreats.  This  rule  works  admirably  and  will  win  gen- 
eral favor.  There  are  a  few  roads  that  make  no  separate 
provision  for  the  races,  but  announce  that  any  passenger 
can  ride  on  any  car.  Here  the  "assortment"  of  the  races 
is  done  away  with,  and  here  it  is  that  most  of  the  outrages 
of  which  we  hear  occur.  On  these  roads  the  negro  has  no 
place  set  apart  for  him.  As  a  rule,  he  is  shy  about  assert- 
ing himself,  and  he  usually  finds  himself  in  the  meanest 
corners  of  the  train.  If  he  forces  himself  into  the  ladies' 
car,  he  is  apt  to  provoke  a  collison.  It  is  on  just  one  of 
these  trains  where  the  assortment  of  the  passengers  is  left 
to  chance  that  a  respectable  negro  woman  is  apt  to 
be  forced  to  ride  in  a  car  crowded  with  negro  convicts. 
Such  a  thing  would  be  impossible  where  the  issue  is  fairly 
met,  and  a  car,  clean,  orderly,  and  exclusive,  is  provided 
for  each  race.  The  case  could  not  be  met  by  grading  the 
tickets  and  the  accommodations.  Such  apian  would  bring 
together  in  the  second  or  third  class  car  just  the  element  of 
both  races  between  whom  prejudice  runs  highest,  and  from 
whom  the  least  of  tact  or  restraint  might  be  expected.  On 
the  railroads,  as  elsewhere,  the  solution  of  the  race  prob- 
lem is,  equal  advantages  for  lli<-  same  money.-  -equal  in 
comfort,  safety,  and  exclusiveness, — but  separate. 


HIS    LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND    SPEECHES.  301 

There  remains  but  one  thing  farther  to  consider — the 
negro  in  the  jury-box.  It  is  assumed  generally  that  the 
negro  has  no  representation  in  the  courts.  This  is  a  false 
assumption.  In  the  United  States  courts  he  usually  makes 
more  than  half  the  jury.  As  to  the  State  courts,  I  can 
speak  particularly  as  to  Georgia.  I  assume  that  she  does  not 
materially  differ  from  the  other  States.  In  Georgia  the  law 
requires  that  commissioners  shall  prepare  the  jury-list  for 
each  county  by  selection  from  the  upright,  intelligent,  and 
experienced  citizens  of  the  county,  This  provision  was  put 
into  the  Constitution  by  the  negro  convention  of  recon- 
struction days.  Under  its  terms  no  reasonable  man  would 
have  expected  to  see  the  list  made  up  of  equal  percentage 
of  the  races.  Indeed,  the  fewest  number  of  negroes  were 
qualified  under  the  law.  Consequently,  but  few  appeared 
on  the  lists.  The  number,  as  was  to  be  expected,  is  steadily 
increasing.  In  Fulton  County  there  are  seventy-four 
negroes  whose  names  are  on  the  lists,  and  the  commission- 
ers, I  am  informed,  have  about  doubled  this  number  for 
the  present  year.  These  negroes  make  good  jurymen,- and 
are  rarely  struck  by  attorneys,  no  matter  what  the  client 
or  cause  may  be.  About  the  worst  that  can  be  charged 
against  the  jury  system  in  Georgia  is  that  the  commission- 
ers have  made  jurors  of  negroes  only  when  they  had  quali- 
fied themselves  to  intelligently  discharge  a  juror's  duties. 
In  few  quarters  of  the  South,  however,  is  the  negro  unable 
to  get  full  and  exact  justice  in  the  courts,  whether  the  jury 
be  white  or  black.  Immediately  after  the  war,  when  there 
was  general  alarm  and  irritation,  there  may  have  been 
undue  severity  in  sentences  and  extreme  rigor  of  prosecu- 
tion. But  the  charge  that  the  people  of  the  South  have,  in 
their  deliberate  and  later  moments  prostituted  justice  to 
the  oppression  of  this  dependent  people,  is  as  false  as  it  is 
infamous.  There  is  abundant  belief  that  the  very  helpless- 
ness of  the  negro  in  court  has  touched  the  heart  and  con- 
science of  many  a  jury,  when  the  facts  should  have  held  them 
impervious.  In  the  city  in  which  this  is  written,  a  negro, 
at  midnight,  on  an  unfrequented  street,  murdered  a  popu- 


302  IIKN'KY    \V.    ORADT, 

lar  young  fellow,  over  whose  grave  a  monument  was  placed 
by  popular  subscription.  The  only  witnesses  of  the  killing 
were  the  friends  of  the  murdered  boy.  Had  the  murderer 
been  a  white  man,  it  is  believed  he  would  have  been  con- 
victed. He  was  acquitted  by  the  white  jury,  and  has  since 
been  convicted  of  a  murderous  assault  on  a  person  of  his 
own  color.  Similarly,  a  young  white  man,  belonging  to 
one  of  the  leading  families  of  the  State,  was  hanged  for  the 
murder  of  a  negro.  Insanity  was  pleaded  in  his  defense, 
and  so  plausibly  that  it  is  believed  he  would  have  escaped 
had  his  victim  been  a  white  man. 

I  quote  on  this  point  Mr.  Benjamin  II.  Hill,  who  has 
been  prosecuting  attorney  of  the  Atlanta,  Ga.,  circuit  for 
twelve  years.  He  says :  "In  cities  and  towns  the  negro 
gets  equal  and  exact  justice  before  the  courts.  It  is  possi- 
ble that,  in  remote  counties,  where  the  question  is  one  of  a 
fight  between  a  white  man  and  a  negro,  there  may  be  a  lin- 
gering prejudice  that  causes  occasional  injustice.  The 
judge,  however,  may  be  relied  on  to  correct  this.  As  to 
negro  jurors,  I  have  never  known  a  negro  to  allow  his 
lawyer  to  accept  a  negro  juror.  For  the  State  I  have 
accepted  a  black  juror  fifty  times,  to  have  him  rejected  by 
the  opposing  lawyer  by  order  of  his  negro  client.  This  has 
incurred  so  invariably  that  I  have  accepted  it  as  a  rule. 
Irrespective  of  that,  the  negro  gets  justice  in  the  courts, 
and  the  last  remaining  prejudice  against  him  in  the  jury- 
box  has  passed  away.  I  convicted  a  white  man  for  volun- 
tary manslaughter  under  peculiar  circumstances.  A  negro 
met  him  on  the  street  and  cursed  him.  The  white  man 
ordered  him  off  and  started  home.  The  negro  followed 
him  to  his  house  and  cursed  him  until  he  entered  the  door. 
When  he  came  out,  the  negro  was  still  waiting.  He 
renewed  the  abuse,  followed  him  to  his  store,  and  there 
struck  him  with  his  fist.  In  the  struggle  that  followed, 
the  negro  was  shot  and  killed.  The  jury  promptly  con- 
victed the  slayer." 

So  much  for  the  relation  between  the  races  in  the  South, 
in  churches,  schools,  social  organizations,  on  the  railroad, 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  303 

and  in  theaters.  Everything  is  placed  on  the  basis  of  equal 
accommodations,  but  separate.  In  the  courts  the  blacks 
are  admitted  to  the  jury-box  as  they  lift  themselves  into 
the  limit  of  qualification.  Mistakes  have  been  made  and 
injustice  has  been  worked  here  and  there.  This  was  to 
have  been  expected,  and  it  has  been  less  than  might  have 
been  expected.  But  there  can  be  no  mistake  about  the 
progress  the  South  is  making  in  the  equitable  adjustment 
of  the  relations  between  the  races.  Ten  years  ago  nothing 
was  settled.  There  were  frequent  collisions  and  constant 
apprehensions.  The  whites  were  suspicious  and  the  blacks 
were  restless.  So  simple  a  thing  as  a  negro  taking  an 
hour's  ride  on  the  cars,  or  going  to  see  a  play,  was  fraught 
with  possible  danger.  The  larger  affairs — school,  church, 
and  court — were  held  in  abeyance.  Now  all  this  is 
changed.  The  era  of  doubt  and  mistrust  is  succeeded  by 
the  era  of  confidence  and  good- will.  The  races  meet  in  the 
exchange  of  labor  in  perfect  amity  and  understanding. 
Together  they  carry  on  the  concerns  of  the  day,  knowing 
little  or  nothing  of  the  fierce  hostility  that  divides  labor 
and  capital  in  other  sections.  When  they  turn  to  social 
life  they  separate.  Each  race  obeys  its  instinct  and  con- 
gregates about  its  own  centers.  At  the  theater  they  sit  in 
opposite  sections  of  the  same  gallery.  On  the  trains  they 
ride  each  in  his  own  car.  Each  worships  in  his  own 
church,  and  educates  his  children  in  his  schools.  Each  has 
his  place  and  fills  it,  and  is  satisfied.  Each  gets  the  same 
accommodation  for  the  same  money.  There  is  no  collision. 
There  is  no  irritation  or  suspicion.  Nowhere  on  earth  is  there 
kindlier  feeling,  closer  sympathy,  or  less  friction  between 
two  classes  of  society  than  between  the  whites  and  blacks 
of  the  South  to-day.  This  is  due  to  the  fact  that  in  the 
adjustment  of  their  relations  they  have  been  practical  and 
sensible.  They  have  wisely  recognized  what  was  essen- 
tial, and  have  not  sought  to  change  what  was  unchangea- 
ble. They  have  yielded  neither  to  the  fanatic  nor  dema- 
gogue, refusing  to  be  misled  by  the  one  or  misused  by  the 
other.  While  the  world  has  been  clamoring  over  their  dif- 


304  IIKNRY   W.    GRADY, 

!'•  i.-nces  they  have  been  quietly  taking  conns*-!  with  each 
other,  in  th,'  fit-Id,  tin-  shop,  the  street  and  cabin,  and  set- 
tling tiling  for  themselves.  That  the  result  has  not  aston- 
ished the  world  in  the  speediness  and  the  facility  with 
which  it  has  been  reached,  and  the  beneficence  that  has 
come  with  it,  is  due  to  the  fact  that  the  result  has  not  been 
freely  proclaimed.  It  has  been  a  deplorable  condition  of 
our  politics  that  the  North  has  been  misinformed  as  to  the 
niK-  condition  of  things  in  the  South.  Political  .trreed  and 
I  m-sion  conjured  pestilential  mists  to  becloud  what  the 
lift  ing  smoke  of  battle  left  clear.  It  has  exaggerated  where 
then-  \\as  a  grain  of  fact,  and  invented  where  there  was 
none.  It  has  sought  to  establish  the  most  casual  occur- 
rences as  the  settled  habit  of  the  section,  and  has  sprung 
endless  jeremiades  from  one  single  disorder,  as  Jenkins  filled 
the  courts  of  Christendom  with  lamentations  over  his  dis- 
severed ear.  These  misrepresentations  will  pass  away  with 
the  occasion  that  provoked  them,  and  when  the  truth  is 
known  it  will  come  with  the  force  of  a  revelation  to  vindi- 
cate those  who  have  bespoken  for  the  South  a  fair  trial, 
and  to  confound  those  who  have  borne  false  witness 
against  her. 

One  thing  further  need  be  said,  in  perfect  frankness. 
Th«'  South  must  be  allowed  to  settle  the  social  relations  of 
the  races  according  to  her  own  views  of  what  is  right  and 
best.  There  has  never  been  a  moment  when  she  could  have 
submitted  to  have  the  social  status  of  her  citizens  fixed  by 
an  outside  power.  She  accepted  the  emancipation  and  the 
enfranchisement  of  her  slaves  as  the  legitimate  results  of 
war  that  had  been  fought  to  a  conclusion.  These  once 
accomplished,  nothing  more  was  possible.  "  Thus  far  and 
no  farther,"  she  said  to  her  neighbors,  in  no  spirit  of  defi- 
ance, but  with  quiet  determination.  In  her  weakest 
moments,  when  her  helpless  people  were  hedged  about  by 
the  unthinking  bayonets  of  her  conquerors,  she  gather, -d 
them  for  resistance  at  this  point.  Here  she  defended 
everything  that  a  people  should  hold  dear.  There  was 
little  proclamation  of  her  purpose.  Barely  did  the  wins- 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  305 

pered  word  that  bespoke  her  resolution  catch  the  listen- 
ing ears  of  her  sons  ;  but  for  all  this  the  victorious  armies 
of  the  North,  had  they  been  rallied  again  from  their  homes, 
could  not  have  enforced  and  maintained  among  this  dis- 
armed people  the  policy  indicated  in  the  Civil  Rights  bill. 
Had  she  found  herself  unable  to  defend  her  social  integrity 
against  the  arms  that  were  invincible  on  the  fields  where 
she  staked  the  sovereignty  of  her  States,  her  people  would 
have  abandoned  their  homes  and  betaken  themselves  into 
exile.  Now,  as  then,  the  South  is  determined  that,  come 
what  may,  she  must  control  the  social  relations  of  the  two 
races  whose  lots  are  cast  within  her  limits.  It  is  right  that 
she  should  have  this  control.  The  problem  is  hers,  whether 
or  not  of  her  seeking,  and  her  very  existence  depends  on 
its  proper  solution.  Her  responsibility  is  greater,  her 
knowledge  of  the  case  more  thorough  than  that  of  others 
can  be.  The  question  touches  her  at  every  point ;  it 
presses  on  her  from  every  side  ;  it  commands  her  constant 
attention.  Every  consideration  of  policy,  of  honor,  of 
pride,  of  common  sense  impels  her  to  the  exactest  justice 
and  the  fullest  equity.  She  lacks  the  ignorance  or  misap- 
prehension that  might  lead  others  into  mistakes  ;  all  others 
lack  the  appalling  alternative  that,  all  else  failing,  would 
force  her  to  use  her  knowledge  wisely.  For  these  reasons 
she  has  reserved  to  herself  the  right  to  settle  the  still 
unsettled  element  of  the  race  problem,  and  this  right  she 
can  never  yield. 

Asa  matter  of  course,  this  implies  the  clear  and  unmis- 
takable domination  of  the  white  race  in  the  South.  The 
assertion  of  that  is  simply  the  assertion  of  tho  right  of 
character,  intelligence  and  property  to  rule.  It  is  simply 
saying  that  the  responsible  and  steadfast  element  in  the 
community  shall  control,  rather  than  the  irresponsible  and 
the  migratory.  It  is  the  reassertion  of  the  moral  power 
that  overthrew  the  scandalous  reconstruction  governments, 
even  though,  to  the  shame  of  the  Republic  be'  it  said,  they 
were  supported  by  the  bayonets  of  the  General  Govern- 
ment. Even  the  race  issue  is  lost  at  this  point.  If  the 


III.MiV     \V.    <.KADV. 

))l:icks  of  the  South  wore  \vliite  skins,  and  were  leagued 
;lier  in  the  same  ignorance  and  irresponsibility  und«-r 
any  otln-r  disl  inctive  mark  Ihan  th«-ir  color,  they  would 
progress  not  one  step  furl  her  toward  the  control  of  all'airs. 
Or  if  they  were  transported  a>  lh<-y  an-  to  Ohio,  and  there 
placed  in  numerical  majority  of  two  to  one,  they  would 
lind  the  white  minority  there  asserting  and  maintaining 
control,  with  less  patience,  perhaps,  than  many  a  Southern 
State  has  shown.  Everywhere,  with  such  temporary 
exceptions  as  afford  demonstration  of  the  rule,  intelli- 
gence, character,  and  property  will  dominate  in  spite  of 
numerical  differences.  These  qualities  are  lodged  with  the 
white  race  in  the  South,  and  will  assuredly  remain  there 
for  many  generations  at  least ;  so  that  the  white  race  will 
continue  to  dominate  the  colored,  even  if  the  percent: 
of  race  increase  deduced  from  the  comparison  of  a  lame 
census  with  a  perfect  one,  and  the  omission  of  other  con- 
siderations, should  hold  good  and  the  present  race  major- 
ity be  reversed. 

Let  no  one  imagine,  from  what  is  here  said,  that  the 
South  is  careless  of  the  opinion  or  regardless  of  the  counsel 
of  the  outside  world.  On  the  contrary,  while  maintaining 
firmly  a  position  she  believes  to  be  essential,  she  appreci- 
ates heartily  the  value  of  general  sympathy  and  confidence. 
AVith  an  earnestness  that  is  little  less  than  pathetic  she 
bespeaks  the  patience  and  the  impartial  judgment  of  all 
concerned.  Surely  her  situation  should  command  this 
rather  than  indifference  or  antagonism.  In  poverty  and 
defeat, — with  her  cities  destroyed,  her  fields  desolated,  her 
labor  disorganized,  her  homes  in  ruins,  her  families  scat- 
tered, and  the  ranks  of  her  sons  decimated, — in  the  face  of 
universal  prejudice,  fanned  by  the  storm  of  war  into  hos- 
tility and  hatred — under  the  shadow  of  this  sorrow  and 
this  disadvantage,  she  turned  bravely  to  confront  a  prob- 
lem that  would  have  taxed  to  the  utmost  every  resource  of 
a  rich  and  powerful  and  victorious  people.  Every  inch  of 
her  progress  has  been  beset  with  sore  difliculties  :  and  if 
the  way  is  now  clearing,  it  only  reveals  more  clearly  the 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  307 

tremendous  import  of  the  work  to  which  her  hands  are 
given.  It  must  be  understood  that  she  desires  to  silence 
no  criticism,  evade  no  issue,  and  lessen  no  responsibility. 
She  recognizes  that  the  negro  is  here  to  stay.  She  knows 
that  her  honor,  her  dear  name,  and  her  fame,  no  less  than 
her  prosperity,  will  be  measured  by  the  fulness  of  the  jus- 
tice she  gives  and  guarantees  to  this  kindly  and  dependent 
race.  She  knows  that  every  mistake  made  and  every  error 
fallen  into,  no  matter  how  innocently,  endanger  her  peace 
and  her  reputation.  In  this  full  knowledge  she  accepts 
the  issue  without  fear  or  evasion.  She  says,  not  boldly, 
but  conscious  of  the  honesty  and  the  wisdom  of  her  convic- 
tions :  "Leave  this  problem  to  my  working  out.  I  will 
solve  it  in  calmness  and  deliberation,  without  passion  or 
prejudice,  and  with  full  regard  for  the  unspeakable  equi- 
ties it  holds.  Judge  me  rigidly,  but  judge  me  by  my 
works."  And  with  the  South  the  matter  may  be  left — 
must  be  left.  There  it  can  be  left  with  the  fullest  confi- 
dence that  the  honor  of  the  Republic  will  be  maintained, 
the  rights  of  humanity  guarded,  and  the  problem  worked 
out  in  such  exact  justice  as  the  finite  mind  can  measure  or 
finite  agencies  administer. 


J1KNKV    W.    OltADY, 


THE  LITTLE  BOY  IN  THE  BALCONY. 


MY  special  amusement  in  New  York  is  riding  on  the 
elevated  railway.  It  is  curious  to  note  how  little 
one  can  see  on  the  crowded  sidewalks  of  this  city.  It  is 
simply  a  rush  of  the  same  people — hurrying  this  way  or 
that  on  the  same  errands — doing  the  same  shopping  creat- 
ing at  the  same  restaurants.  It  is  a  kaleidoscope  with 
infinite  combinations  but  the  same  effects.  You  see  it  to- 
day, and  it  is  the  same  as  yesterday.  Occasionally  in  the 
multitude  you  hit  upon  a  genre  specimen,  or  an  odd 
detail,  such  as  a  prim  little  dog  that  sits  upright  all  day 
and  holds  in  its  mouth  a  cup  for  pennies  for  its  blind  mas- 
ter, or  an  old  bookseller  with  a  grand  head  and  the  delib- 
erate motions  of  a  scholar  moldering  in  a  stall — but  the 
general  effect  is  one  of  sameness  and  soon  tires  and 
bewilders. 

Once  on  the  elevated  road,  however,  a  new  world  is 
opened,  full  of  the  most  interesting  objects.  The  cars 
sweep  by  the  upper  stories  of  the  houses,  and,  running 
never  too  swiftly  to  allow  observation,  disclose  the  sec-vis 
of  a  thousand  homes,  and  bring  to  view  people  and  things 
never  dreamed  of  by  the  giddy,  restless  crowd  that  sends 
its  impatient  murmur  from  the  streets  below.  In  a  course 
of  several  months'  pretty  steady  riding  from  Twenty-third 
Street,  which  is  the  station  for  the  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel,  to 
Rector,  which  overlooks  Wall  Street,  I  have  made  many 
acquaintances  along  the  route — and  on  reaching  the  city 
my  first  curiosity  is  in  their  behalf. 

One  of  these  is  a  boy  about  six  years  of  age — akin  in 
his  fragile  body  and  his  serious  mien,  a  youngster  that  is 
very  precious  to  one.  I  first  saw  this  boy  on  a  little  bal- 
cony about  three  feet  by  four,  projecting  from  the  window 
of  a  poverty-stricken  fourth  floor.  He  was  leaning  over 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  309 

the  railing,  his  white,  thoughtful  head  just  clearing  the 
top,  holding  a  short  round  stick  in  his  hand.  The  little 
fellow  made  a  pathetic  picture,  all  alone  there  above  the 
street,  so  friendless  and  desolate,  and  his  pale  face  came 
between  me  and  my  business  many  a  time  that  day.  On 
going  up  town  that  evening  just  as  night  was  falling,  I  saw 
him  still  at  his  place,  white  and  patient  and  silent.  Every 
day  afterwards  I  saw  him  there,  always  with  the  short  stick 
in  his  hand.  Occasionally  he  would  walk  around  the  bal- 
cony rattling  the  stick  in  a  solemn  manner  against  the  rail- 
ing, or  poke  it  across  from  one  corner  to  another  and  sit  on 
it.  This  was  the  only  playing  I  ever  saw  him  do,  and  the 
stick  was  the  only  plaything  he  had.  But  he  was  never 
without  it.  His  little  hand  always  held  it,  and  I  pictured 
him  every  morning  when  he  awoke  from  his  joyless  sleep, 
picking  up  his  plaything  and  going  out  to  his  balcony,  as 
other  boys  go  to  play.  Or  perhaps  he  slept  with  it,  as 
little  ones  do  with  dolls  and  whip-tops. 

I  could  see  that  the  room  beyond  the  window  was  bare. 
I  never  saw  any  one  in  it.  The  heat  must  have  been  terri- 
ble, for  it  could  have  had  no  ventilation.  Once  I  missed  the 
boy  from  the  balcony,  but  saw  his  white  head,  moving  about 
slowly  in  the  dusk  of  the  room.  Gradually  the  little  fel- 
low become  a  burden  to  me.  I  found  myself  continually 
thinking  of  him,  and  troubled  with  that  remorse  that 
thoughtless  people  feel  even  for  suffering  for  which  they 
are  not  in  the  slightest  degree  responsible.  Not  that  I  ever 
saw  any  suffering  on  his  face.  It  was  patient,  thoughtful, 
serious,  but  with  never  a  sign  of  petulance.  What  thoughts 
iilled  that  young  head — what  contemplation  took  the  place 
of  what  should  have  been  the  ineffable  upringing  of  child- 
ish emotion — what  complaint  or  questioning  were  living 
behind  that  white  face — no  one  could  guess.  In  an  older 
person  the  face  would  have  betokened  a  resignation  that 
found  peace  in  the  hope  of  things  hereafter.  In  this  child, 
without  hope  or  estimation,  it  was  sad  beyond  expression. 

One  day  as  I  passed  I  nodded  at  him.  He  made  no 
sign  in  return.  I  repeated  the  nod  on  another  trip,  waving 


'.MO  HINKY     W. 

my  hand  at  him— but  without  avail.  At  length,  inresponx* 
to  an  unusual!  y  vrinning  exhortation,  hifl  pal*-  lips  trembled 
into  a  sinil<> — but  a  smile  that  was  soln-i  ness  itself.  Where- 
ever  I  went  that  day  that  smile  went  with  me.  Wherever 
1  saw  children  playing  in  the  parks,  or  trotting  along  with 
their  hands  nestled  in  strong  fingers  that  guided  and  pro- 
tected, I  though  tof  that  tiny  watcher  in  the  balcony — joy- 
less, hopeless,  friendless — a  desolate  mite,  hanging  bet  v 
the  blue  sky  and  the  gladsome  streets — lifting  his  wistful 
face  now  to  the  peaceful  heights  of  the  one,  and  now  looking 
with  grave  wonder  on  the  ceaseless  tumult  of  the  other. 
At  length — but  why  go  any  further?  Why  is  it  necessary 
to  tell  that  the  boy  had  no  father,  that  his  mother  was  bed- 
ridden from  his  birth,  and  that  his  sister  pasted  labels  in  a 
drug-house,  and  he  was  thus  left  to  himself  all  day  ?  It  is 
sufficient  to  say  that  I  went  to  Coney  Island  yesterday,  and 
forgot  the  heat  in  the  sharp  saline  breezes — watched  the 
bathers  and  the  children — listened  to  the  crisp,  lingering 
music  of  the  waves  as  they  sang  to  the  beach — ate  a  robust 
lunch  on  the  pier — wandered  in  and  out  among  the  booths, 
tents,  and  hubbub — and  that  through  all  these  manifold 
pleasures,  I  had  a  companion  that  enjoyed  them  with  a 
gravity  that  I  can  never  hope  to  emulate,  but  with  a  soul- 
fulness  that  was  touching — and  that  as  I  came  back  in  the 
boat,  the  breezes  singing  through  the  cordage,  music  float- 
ing from  the  fore-deck,  and  the  sun  lighting  with  its  dying 
rays  the  shipping  that  covered  the  river,  there  was  sitting 
in  front  of  me  a  very  pale  but  very  happy  bit  of  a  boy, 
open-eyed  with  wonder,  but  sober  and  self-contained,  clasp- 
ing tightly  in  his  little  fingers  a  short  battered  stick.  And 
finally  that  whenever  I  pass  by  a  certain  overhanging  bal- 
cony now,  I  am  sure  of  a  smile  from  an  intimate  and 
.esteemed  friend  who  lives  there. 


POEMS 

BY    VARIOUS   HANDS. 


G  R  A  D  Y . 


i. 

SUNS  rise  and  set,  stars  flash  and  darken 
To-day  I  stand  alone  and  hearken 
Unto  this  counsel,  old  and  wise  : 
"As  shadows  still  we  flee."     The  blossom 
May  hide  the  rare  fruit  in  its  bosom, 
But  in  the  core  the  canker  lies. 

ii. 

To-day  I  stand  alone  and  listen- 
While  on  my  cheek  the  teardrops  glisten 

And  a  strange  blindness  veils  my  sight, 
Unto  the  story  of  his  dying 
And  how,  in  God's  white  slumber  lying, 

His  laureled  brow  is  lulled  to-night. 

in. 

Dear  friends,  I  would  not  mock  your  sorrow 
With  this  poor  wreath  that  ere  to-morrow 

Shall  fade  and  perish — little  worth  ; 
But  from  the  mountains  that  lament  him, 
And  from  these  vales  whose  violets  lent  him 

Their  fragrance  ;  from  around  the  earth, 

IV. 

Wherever  Love  hath  her  dominion, 
Sorrow  hath  plumed  her  shadowed  pinion 

And  paid  the  tribute  of  her  tears  ; 
And  here  is  mine  !     In  pathways  lowly 
This  man,  w'hose  dust  ye  count  as  holy 

Met  me,  a  traveller  of  the  years, 
313 


314  IIKNKY    \V.    CRADY, 

V. 

And  readied  liis  strong  riglit  hand — a  brother. 
Saying  :  t;  Mankind  should  love  each  other," 

And  so  I  shared  and  felt  his  love  ; 
And  now  my  heart  its  grief  expresses 
As  comes  from  out  lone  wildernesses 

The  sad  lamenting  of  the  dove. 

VI. 

Yet  while  I  weep  States  mourn  together 
And  in  the  world  '  tis  rainy  weather 

And  all  that  bright  rain  falls  for  him  ! 
States  mourn,  and  while  their  voices  fame  him 
The  fond  lips  of  the  lowly  name  him, 

And  little  children's  eyes  grow  dim, 

VII. 

With  tender  tears,  because  they  love  him  ; 
Their  hands  strew  violets  above  him  : 

They  lisp  his  dear  name  in  their  dreams. 
And  in  their  sorrows  and  afflictions 
Old  men  breathe  dying  benedictions 

Where  on  his  grave  the  starlight  gleams. 

VIII. 

He  stood  upon  the  heights,  yet  never 
So  high  but  that  his  heart  forever 

Was  by  the  lowliest  accent  thrilled  ; 
He  loved  his  land  and  sought  to  save  it, 
And  in  that  love  he  freely  gave  it 

The  life  Death's  hand  hath  touched  and  stilled. 

IX. 

Dear,  brave,  true  heart !    You  fell  as  falleth 
A  star  when  from  far  spaces  calleth 

God's  voice  that  shakes  the  trembling  spheres  ; 
Fell !  Nay  !  that  voice,  like  softest  lyre, 
Whispered  thee  in  thy  dreams:  "  Come  higher, 

Above  Earth's  sorrows,  hopes  and  fears." 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  315 

X. 

I  shall  not  see  the  dead  :  Thy  living, 

Dear  face,  the  gentle  and  forgiving  ; 
The  kindly  eyes  compassionate  ; 

The  rare  smile  of  thy  lips — each  token 

I  have  of  thee  must  be  unbroken- 
Death  shall  not  leave  them  desolate  ? 

XI. 

O,  Christmas  skies  of  blue  December, 
This  day  of  earthly  days  remember — 

He  loved  you,  skies  !  to  him  your  blue 
Was  beautiful !     O,  sunlight  gleaming 
Like  silver  on  the  rivers  streaming 

Out  to  the  sea  ;  and  mountain's  dew 

XII. 

Bespangled — and  ye  velvet  valleys, 
Green-bosomed,  where  the  south  winds  dallies — 

He  loved  you  !  And  ye  birds  that  sing- 
Do  ye  not  miss  him  ?  Winds  that  wander, 
How  can  ye  pass  him,  lying  yonder, 

Now  sigh  his  dirge  with  folded  wing  ? 

XIII. 

In  dearest  dust  that  ever  nourished 
The  violets  that  o'er  it  flourished, 

He  lies,  your  lover  and  your  friend  ! 
Thy  softest  beams,  sweet  sun,  will  kiss  him  ; 
Sweet,  silent  valleys,  ye  will  miss  him, 

Your  roses,  weeping,  o'er  him  bend. 

XIV. 

Good-night — Good-bye  !    Above  our  sorrow, 
Comrade  !  thine  is  a  fair  "  good-morrow," 

In  some  far,  luminous  world  of  light, 
Yet,  take  this  farewell — Love's  last  token  : 
We  leave  thee  to  thy  rest  unbroken — 

God  have  thee  in  his  care — Good-night ! 

— F.  L.  STANTON. 


316  II  i:\KV    W.    GRADY, 


ATLANTA. 


WE  weep  with  Atlanta  ! 
Her  loss  is  the  nation's ! 
^Yith  deep  lamentations 
Our  grief  is  revealed  ; 
For  her  hero  so  youthful, 
So  radiant  and  truthful, 
Her  loyal  defender, 
Lies  dead  on  the  field. 

We  weep  with  Atlanta  ! 
O  sore  her  bereavement ! 
For  he  whose  achievement 
The  continent  thrilled, 
His  last  word  has  spoken  ; 
In  silence  unbroken. 
By  Death's  cruel  mandate, 
The  proud  pulse  is  stilled. 

We  weep  with  Atlanta  ! 
For  woe  crowds  upon  her 
When  the  soldier  of  honor 
Death's  countersign  gives. 
Keep  the  grasses  above  him, 
And  let  those  who  love  him 
Proclaim  beyond  doubting 
That  the  hero  still  lives. 

JOSEPHINE  POLLARD. 
NEW  YORK  CITY,  Dec.  27,  1889. 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  317 


HENRY  W.   GRADY. 


RUE-HEARTED  friend  of  all  true  friendliness  ! 
-L      Brother  of  all  true  brotherhoods  ! — Thy  hand 

And  its  late  pressure  now  we  understand 
Most  fully,  as  it  falls  thus  gestureless, 
And  Silence  lulls  thee  into  sweet  excess 
Of  sleep.     Sleep  thou  content!  —Thy  loved  Southland. 
Is  swept  with  tears,  as  rain  in  sunshine ;  and 
Through  all  the  frozen  North  our  eyes  confess 

Like  sorrow — seeing  still  the  princely  sign 
Set  on  thy  lifted  brow,  and  the  rapt  light 
Of  the  dark,  tender,  melancholy  eyes- 
Thrilled  with  the  music  of  those  lips  of  thine, 
And  yet  the  fire  thereof  that  lights  the  night, 
With  the  white  splendor  of  thy  prophecies. 

JAMES  WHITCOMBE  RILEY. 
In  New  York  Tribune,  December  23,  1889. 


HJiMJV     \V.    GltADY, 


A  REQUIEM. 
IN  MEMORY  OF  "HIM  THAT'S  AWA\" 


BURY  him  in  the  sunshine, 
Bring  forth  the  rarest  flowers 
In  love  to  rest  above  the  breast 

Of  this  dead  hope  of  ours  ! 
Let  not  the  strife  and  pain  of  life 

One  ray  of  joy  dispel, 
And  we'll  bury  him  in  the  sunshine, 
In  the  light  he  loved  so  well ! 

Bury  him  in  the  sunshine, 

All  that  of  earth  remains  ; 
Let  every  tear  that  damps  his  bier 

Fall  warm  as  April  rains 
That  bring  to  light  the  blossoms  bright, 

And  break  the  wintry  spell. 
Thus  we'll  bury  him  in  the  sunshine, 

In  the  light  he  loved  so  well ! 

Bury  him  in  the  sunshine, 

Where  softest  breezes  blow. 
His  dear  face  brought  no  dismal  thought, 

To  those  who  love  him  so. 
Let  cheerful  strains  and  glad  refrains 

A  joyous  requiem  swell, 
While  we  bury  him  in  the  sunshine, 

In  the  light  he  loved  so  well ! 

Bury  him  in  the  sunshine, 
While  Christmas  carols  rise 


HIS    LIFE,     WUI'II.NUS,    AND    SPEECHES.  319 

In  thankful  mirtli  from  smiling  earth. 

To  fair  sun-litten  skies. 
Forget  the  gloom  that  shrouds  the  tomb, 

And  hush  the  dreary  knell, 
For  we'll  bury  him  in  the  sunshine, 

In  the  light  he  loved  so  well ! 

Bury  him  in  the  sunshine  ; 

His  peerless  soul  hath  flown 
To  that  fair  land  upon  whose  strand 

No  winds  of  winter  moan. 
Sublimer  heights,  purer  delights, 

Than  mortal  tongue  can  tell  ; 
So,  we'll  bury  him  in  God's  sunshine, 

In  the  light  he  loved  so  well ! 

MONTGOMERY  M.  FOLSOM. 


JIhMlY    \V. 


HENRY  WOODFIN  GRADY. 


MUST  we  concede  the  life  so  swiftly  flown 
That  seemed  but  yesterday  to  breath  our  own — 
The  pulsing  stayed  that  through  our  land  he  sent, 
In  whose  one  impact  North  and  South  were  blent— 
His  cords  yet  vital  stilled  witli  tone  abounding, 
His  heart-strings  sundered  by  their  vibrant  sounding  ? 

Too  well  we  feel  the  import  of  our  fears — 

The  wide-flashed  word,  "the  South  is  steeped  in  tears  !  " 

Fitly  she  weeps  for  her  chivalric  son 

\Vlio  turned  to  her,  in  flush  of  triumph  won, 

The  filial  voice  to  gain  her  glad  applause— 

The  golden  tongue  to  plead — to  gild  her  cause. 

That  spirit  note — the  music  of  his  speech, 
Is  silenced  now  in  earthly  hearing's  reach  ; 
Snapped  is  the  silvern  thread — the  resonant  soul — 
Though  severed  still  its  paeans  reverberant  roll- 
All  hearts  their  hope-rung — chants  in  mourning  merge, 
All  joyous  dreams  translate  into  a  dirge. 

Fallen  in  hero  prime  of  conscious  power 

His  fame  lives  on  and  soothes  her  anguished  hour, 

Yields  to  the  land  of  Calhoun  and  of  Clay 

His  name  as  heirloom  to  her  later  day,— 

A  legacy  by  life's  oblation  left, 

A  breathing  solace  to  a  home  bereft. 

That  knightly  nature's  gift — that  intellect's  grace, 
Relieved  attrition  wrought  by  clash  of  race, 
That  reason  poised  in  sympathy  supreme, 
Revealed  translucent  pathos  in  his  theme, 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  321 

Bade  clamor  cease — taught  candor's  part  to  cure- 
Bade  truth  appear  more  true,  pure  thought  more  pure. 

But  is  the  zenith  reached — his  record  done, 
His  duty  closed  beneath  meridian  sun  ? 
Was  it  for  him  like  meteor  flash  to  sweep 
Athwart  the  heavens,  as  vaulting  lightnings  leap- 
On  living  errand  our  dimmed  orbit  cleave- 
On  mission  radiate,  yet  no  message  leave  ? 

Ah,  no !  his  flame  rose  not  to  fall  anon  ; 
His  words  as  phrase  to  glitter  and  be  gone  ; 
Not  evanescent  in  the  minds  of  men, 
His  ling' ring  oratory  speaks  again — 
An  era's  nuncio  in  a  Nation's  view, 
An  envoy  of  another  South,  and  new : 

For  now  in  prescience  'neath  his  Southern  skies 

The  grander  vision  greets  our  Northern  eyes  ; 

The  proud  mirage  he  conjured  up  we  see— 

His  picturing  of  her  potency  to  be, 

Her  virile  wealth  of  sun  and  soil  and  ore, 

Her  new-born  Freedom's  force — far  nobler  store. 

With  sectional  lines  and  warring  feuds  effaced, 

Their  racial  problems  solved — their  blots  erased — 

Full  in  that  vision  circumfused  shall  rise 

A  symbol  that  his  life-rays  crystallize, 

For  all  our  state-loves  lit  in  him  to  stand — 

For  bonds  that  Georgia's  Genius  lent  to  all  our  land. 

HENRY  O'MEARA. 


IIL.NKY    \v.   (ii;.\nv, 


HENRY  W.  GRADY. 


TPON"  the  winds  from  shores  uncharted  blown, 
LJ    That  phantom  came,  stoled  in  his  trailing  mists  ; 
He  set  his  cruel  gyves  upon  thy  wrists  :— 
Thine  ear  was  dulled  save  to  his  subtle  tone  :— 
He  led  thee  down  where  fade  the  paths  unknown 
In  the  deep  hollows  of  the  Shadow  Land  : 
Love's  tears, — the  tendance  of  her  gentle  hand, — 
Thou  didst  remember  not :  her  deepest  groan 
Stayed  not  thy  feet — thine  eyes  were  fixed  away 
Upon  the  mountains  of  some  other  clime  ! 
Among  the  noblest,  gathered  from  all  time, 
In  God's  great  universe  somewhere  to-day 
He  wanders  where  the  cool  all-healing  trees 
Uplift  their  fronds  in  fair  Champs  Elysees. 

IlKNKv  JKKOME  STOCKARD. 
GRAHAM,  N.  C. 


HIS   LIFE,    WHITINGS.    AND   SPEECHES.  323 


WHO  WOULD  CALL  HIM  BACK? 


A  LIFE-WORK  finished  :  yet,  hardly  begun  : 
A  course  in  which  courage  cowardice  undone  : 
A  leader  of  battles  whose  life' s  setting  sun 
Leaves  no  cause  unwon. 

The  scholar  and  statesman,  dear  to  us  all, 
As  he  sleeps  his  last  sleep,  though  fateful  his  fall, 
Dreams  only  of  peace — to  life's  pain  past  recall- 
That,  kindred,  is  all. 

The  robe  he' wore  with  such  marvelous  grace, 
Will  be  fitted  to  shoulders  made  for  his  place  : 
Efforts  about  which  none  could  selfishness  trace 
Shall  still  bless  his  race. 

Deeds  he  has  done  in  humanity's  name 
Will  outlive  the  marble  upreared  to  his  fame  : 
Yet,  would  any  one  ask  him,  even  through  pain, 
To  live  life  again  ? 

BELLE  EYRE. 
BOSTON,  MASS. 


IIKNKY     \V.    GKADY, 


HENRY  W.  GRADY. 


LAMENTED  Son  of  Georgia, 
Thou  wert  New  England's  honored  guest 
In  welcome  glad,  but  yesterday, 
With  charming  speech  and  banquet's  zest. 

In  glowing  life,  so  recently, 

From  Plymouth  Rock  and  Bunker's  Hill, 
Thy  vision  swept  the  Pilgrim's  sea,— 

But  now  in  death  thy  heart  is  still. 

And  in  thine  own  dear  native  clime, 

Thou  art  at  rest  in  early  tomb, 
Where  brightest  skies  expand  sublime. 

And  choicest  flowers  forever  bloom. 

Thy  work  ere  yet  at  zenith  done, 
But  harvests,  o'er  thy  fertile  field, 

Are  waving  in  the  noon-day  sun, 
Like  billows,  with  abundant  yield. 

Now  fallen,  but  more. glorious, 

In  peaceful  triumph  grander  far 
Than  pageant  kings  victorious, 

With  bleeding  captives,  spoils  of  war. 

O,  ye  bereaved,  in  mourning  bowed, 

Around  Atlanta's  noble  dead  ! 
What  woe  is  in  your  wailing  land  ; 

How  hallowed  is  the  ground  ye  tread  ! 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND    SPEECHES.  32.5 

A  joyous  home,  now  desolate, 

A  circle  broken,  sad  and  lone, 
A  vacant  chair  in  Sable  State, 

A  husband,  father,  loved  one  gone. 

A  widowed  mother,  mute  with  grief, 
Whose  weeping  children  call  in  vain, 

Their  cries  and  tears  bring  no  relief, 
Thou  can'st  not  meet  them  here  again. 

And  yet,  beyond  this  hour  of  gloom, 
Athwart  the  sky,  the  promised  bow, 

Above  these  clouds,  and  o'er  thy  tomb, 
The  starry  heavens  are  bending  low. 

In  memory  of  loving  worth, 

Sweet  thoughts  like  hidden  springs  will  flow ; 
Rare  flowers  in  oasis  have  birth, 

As  Sorrow's  deserts  verdant  grow. 

With  patriotic,  burning  zeal, 
Thy  brilliant  genius,  tongue  and  pen, 

Were  wielded  for  the  common  weal, 
The  good  of  all  thy  countrymen. 

O'er  ruins  of  the  effete  Old, 
Thou  wrought  to  build  a  better  New, 

Whose  peerless  glories  might  unfold, 
As  North  and  South  together  grew. 

Thou  longed  to  note  accordant  band 
Of  Sister  States  through  future  years, 

A  Union  for  the  world  to  stand 
With  little  aid  of  blood  and  tears. 

Of  such  a  spirit,  He  who  taught 

Eternal  Truth  in  Galilee  ; 
The  human  and  divine  in-wrought 

With  perfect  love  and  charity. 


HI.NKY     \\.    fiKAKV, 

And  so  iliy  <lf«'<ls  will  grow  in  grace, 

They  are  exalted,  Avis,-  and  pure, 
For  freedom  and  the  human  race, 

And  in  our  hearts  will  long  endure. 

For  thee  nor  local,  fleeting  fame, 
But  for  all  nations,  space  and  time  ; 

Around  thy  lofty,  shining  name, 
Unfading  laurels  we  entwine. 

G.  W.  LYON. 
CEDAR  RAPIDS,  IOWA,  Jan.  18,  1890. 


WHAT  THE  MASTER  MADE. 


THE  Master  made  a  perfect  instrument  to  sound  His 
praise, 

It  breathed  forth  glorious  notes  for  many  days,— 
Chords  of  great  strength,  tones  of  soft  melody, 
Grand  organ  anthems — bird-like  minstrelsy  ; 
Its  final  burst  of  music — the  Master's  master-stroke 
Fell  on  the  world — and  then  the  spent  strings  broke. 

MEL  R.  COLQUITT. 


HIS    LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND    SPEECHES.  327 


IN  ATLANTA,  CHRISTMAS,  1889. 


i. 

O  PROUD  Gate  City  of  the  South,  re-born, 
Risen,  a  phoenix,  from  war' s  fiery  flood- 
Why  draped  in  gloom,  this  precious  natal  morn 

Of  Him  crowned  martyr  for  earth's  peace  and  good  ? 
Set  in  the  faces  of  your  old  and  young, 
Is  seen  the  sorrow,  ruthless  Fate  hath  sprung  ! 

ii. 

Your  prince  lies  stark  amid  the  stately  towers, 
Which  he,  strong  leader  in  a  radiant  day, 

Had  helped  to  build,  when  Georgia's  unbound  powers 
Amazed  the  world  and  held  majestic  sway. 

GRADY  is  gone,  like  meteor  flashing  bright 
Across  the  canopy  of  star-gemmed  night ! 

in. 

Lift  him,  with  gentleness,  and  bear  him  hence ! 

Keep  slow,  deliberate  pace  unto  the  grave 
Which  long  must  be  a  spot  where  reverence, 

Halting  its  footsteps,  will  his  laurel  wave  ! 
Impulsive  youth,  in  halls  of  fierce  debate, 

His  counsels  heed,  his  spirit  emulate  ! 

HENRY  CLAY  LUKENS. 
JERSEY  CITY  HEIGHTS,  N.  J. 


328  HKM:V   w.  <;KM»Y, 

IN  MEMORY  OF  HENRY  WOODFIN  GRADY. 


From  the  "West  Shore,"  Portland,  Oregon. 
I. 

AMID  tin-  wrecks  of  private  fortunes  and 
The  fall  of  commonwealths,  he  saw  arise 
A  stricken  people,  and,  with  mournful  eyes, 
Beheld  the  smoke  of  war  bedim  thrjr  hind, 
And  in  its  folds  the  fragments  of  a  band 
Erst  bound,  as  by  grim  Fate,  to  exercise 
Their  judgments  in  the  wrong  and  sacrifice 
Against  the  measures  Providence  had  planned. 

Unconquered  still,  he  saw  the  Southern  folk, 
Though  awed  and  vanquished  by  the  deadly  jar 
Of  war's  deep  thunder  belching  forth,  "  Ye  must !  " 
In  love  this  Master  sought  to  lift  the  yoke 
Of  ignorance  from  the  Southland,  and  to  star 
Its  night  with  those  same  stars  trailed  in  its  dust ! 

ii. 

Unto  the  North  he,  as  a  brother,  came, 
And  in  his  heart  the  great  warm  South  he  brought, 
And  as  he  stood  and  oped  his  mouth  he  wrought 

The  miracle  of  setting  hearts  aflame, 

That  leaped  to  crown  him  orator  of  fame, 
Since  in  his  own  emboldened  hand  he'd  caught 
The  golden  chain  of  love,  by  many  sought, 

To  bind  our  Union  something  more  than  name. 

But  hark  !     The  while  his  eloquence  did  charm 
The  Nation's  ear,  the  lightnings  flashed  along 
The  wires  the  weeping  news,  "  He  is  no  more  !  " 
Brave  seer !     Thou  didst  both  North  and  South  disarm  ! 
Leap,  lightnings,  from  your  wires,  the  clouds  among, 
And  flash  his  eulogy  the  heavens  o'er ! 

LEE  FAIIK  HILD. 
SEATTLE,  January  14,  1890. 


HIS   LIFE,    WHITINGS,    AM)    SPEECHES.  $29 


A    SOUTHER  IS    CHRISTMAS    DAY 

Paraphrased  from  Henry  W.  Grady's  Editorial 


nVFO  man  or  woman  living  now 
_L  i     Shall  e'er  again  behold 
A  Christmas  day  so  royal  clad, 
In  robes  of  purpled  gold, 
As  yesterday  sank  down  to  rest, 
In  perfect,  rounded  triumph  in  the  West. 

A  winter  day  it  was — yet  shot 
With  sunshine  to  the  core- 
Enchantment's  spell  filled  all  the  scene 
With  power  unknown  before— 
And  he  who  walked  abroad  could  feel 
Its  subtle  mast'ry  o'er  him  softly  steal. 

Its  beauty  prodigal  he  saw- 
He  breathed  elixir  pure — 

Twas  bliss  to  strive  with  reaching  hand 
Its  rapture  to  secure, 
And  bathe  with  open  fingers  where 
The  waves  of  warmth  and  freshness  pulsed  the  air. 

The  hum  of  bees  but  underrode 
The  whistling  wings  outspread 

Of  wild  geese,  flying  through  the  sky, 
As  Southwardly  thjey  sped — 
While  embered  pale,  in  drowsy  grates, 
The  fires  slept  lightly,  as  when  life  abates. 


330  IM-.NKY    \v.   <;i:\nv, 

And  people,  marveling,  out  of  doors, 

Watched  in  sweet  :mi;i/<' 
The  soft  winds'  wooing  of  delight, 

Upon  this  day  of  days— 

Their  wooing  of  the  roses  fair— 
Their  kissing  lilies,  with  a  lover's  air. 

God's  benediction,  with  the  day, 
Slow  dropping  from  the  skies, 
Came  down  the  waiting  earth  to  bless, 
And  give  it  glad  surprise— 
His  smile,  its  light — a  radiant  flood, 
That  upward  bore  the  prayer  of  gratitude. 

And  through  and  through  its  stillness  all — 

And  through  its  beauty  too— 
To  every  heart  came  mute  appeal, 

To  live  a  life  more  true — 

And  every  soul  invoking  then, 
With  promise — "  Peace  on  earth — good  will  to  men." 

N.  C.  THOMPSON. 


ins  LIKK,  WRITINGS,  AND  SPEECHES.  331 


IN  MEMORY  OF  HENRY  W.  GRADY. 


SHALL  we  not  mourn  for  those  who  pass 
Like  meteors  from  the  midnight  sky, 
From  out  the  gleaming  heights  of  fame, 
As  those  who  for  their  country  die  ? 

Who  die,  and  sleep  in  dreamless  slumber, 
Where  sunbeams  like  a  blessing  shed 

Their  glories,  and  the  rain-drops,  falling, 
Weep  ever  o'er  our  Southern  dead. 

Of  silvery  tongue,  and  heart  of  fire, 
And  grace  of  manhood,  what  is  left  \ 

A  voiceless  grief — a  tear — a  sigh, 
A  nation  of  her  son  bereft. 

Great  soul  with  eloquence  o'erflowing, 
In  rhythmic  measures  sweet  and  grand, 

Great  heart  whose  mission  was  a  message 
Of  peace  and  good  will,  thro'  the  land. 

O  tongue  of  flame  by  truth  inspired  ! 

Tho'  thou  art  silent,  and  we  never 
May  hear  again  thy  stirring  strains, 

They'll  echo  in  our  halls  forever. 

Thy  life  was  like  a  rushing  river, 
That  proudly  bore  upon  its  breast 

Our  highest  hopes  unto  a  haven, 
Where  heroes  dwell,  and  patriots  rest. 


MKNKY   \v. 

Sleep  well !    tho'  thou  art  gone,  the  grave 
Holds  but  the  outward  earthly  shrine, 

That  held  within  its  clay-cold  breast 
The  sacred  spark  of  life  divine. 

Sleep  well !    immortal,  unforgotten, 
Where  buds  and  blossoms  round  thee  blow, 

And  the  soft  fires  of  Southern  sunsets 
In  glory  gild  thy  couch  below. 

ELIZABETH  J.  HEREFORD. 
DALLAS,  TEXAS. 


HIS   LIFE,    WHITINGS,    AMD   SPEECHES. 


HENRY  W.   GRADY. 


IP  Death  had  waited  till  the  grateful  Land 
He  championed  with  his  life  had  bent  and  crowned, 
With  a  proud,  civic  garland  of  command 

That  knightly  brow,  with  laurels  freshly  bound  ! 
Yet  he  cared  not  for  crowds — this  wrestler  strong  ; 
If  down  the  arena  swept  some  warm,  wild  breath 
Of  his  People's  praise — this  bore  his  soul  along, 
This  came  with  sweetness  in  the  midst  of  death, 
For  love  was  more  to  him  than  crown  or  wreath. 

Ah  !  half  her  Sun  is  stricken  from  the  South, 

Since  he  is  dead — her  tropic-hearted  one, — 
Will  the  pomegranate  flower's  vivid  mouth 

Open  to  drink  the  dews  when  Frost  is  done  ? 
Will  the  gay  red-bird  flash  like  winged  flame, 

The  mocking-bird  awake  its  thrilling  lyre  ? 
Will  Spring  and  Song — will  Love  ev'n  seem  the  same, 

Now  he  is  gone — the  spirit  whose  light  and  fire 
And  pulsing  sweetness  were  like  Spring  to  make, 
The  gray  earth  young  ? — will  Light  and  Love  awake, 
And  he  still  sleep  ? — and  we  weep  for  his  sake  ! 

MARY  E.  BRYAN. 


IJKNKY     \V.    (iKADV 


THE  OLD  AND  THE  NK\V. 


1VTOT  to  the  beauteous  maid  who  weeps 
_L  i    And  wails  in  broken  numbers, 
\Vliere  'neath  the  solemn  cypress  sleeps 
The  brave  in  dreamless  slumbers. 

Oli,  not  to  her  whose  pallid  cheeks 

\Vith  form  all  bent  and  broken 
An  utter  loss  of  promise  speaks 

And  perished  hopes  betoken. 

Ah,  not  to  her !— the  sorrowing  maid 

Who  sighs  so  sad  and  lowly, 
Where  our  "Lost  Cause  and  Cross"  were  laid, 

Keeping  their  memories  holy. 

Ah,  not  to  her  whose  sons  have  passed 

To  rest  in  peace  sedately, 
To  glory  and  the  grave  at  last, 

In  soldier  phalanx  stately ; 

That  sleep  beneath  the  mountain  sod 

Or  by  the  murmuring  rivers, 
Beneath  the  blooming  prairie  clod 

Or  where  the  sea  breeze  quivers. 

The  past  is  God's,  the  future  ours, 
And  o'er  our  plains  and  mountains 

The  young  spring  comes  with  thousand  flowers 
And  music  in  bright  fountains. 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  335 

Oh,  let  the  bugle  and  the  drum 

Pass  to  the  halls  of  glory, 
Where  time  has  made  our  passions  dumb 

And  fame  has  told  its  story. 

But  let  no  High  Priest  of  despair 

Wed  us  to  shades  of  sorrow, 
Or  bind  our  younger  limbs  and  fair 

In  all  our  bright  to-morrow. 

Oh,  not  for  her  our  younger  years 

Whose  beauty  bloomed  to  perish- 
Enough  a  whole  decade  of  tears, 
Sad  memories  that  we  cherish. 

But  thou,  sweet  maid,  whose  gentle  wand 
Doth  bring  the  May-time  blossom — 

We  kiss  thy  lips  and  clasp  thy  hand 
And  press  thy  beauteous  bosom. 

Thou  who  dost  teach  us  to  forgive 

The  red  hand  of  our  brother, 
And  binds  us  closer  while  we  live 

To  Country,  as  a  mother. 

Ah,  wedded  to  this  Newer  South 

We'll  find  peace,  love  and  glory, 
And  in  some  future  singer's  mouth 

Freedom  will  boast  the  story. 

J.  M.  GIBSON. 

VICKSBURQ,  January  14,  1890. 


JIKNUV   \\ . 


HENRY   W.    GRADY. 


From  the  "  Boston  Globe." 

FAIR  brow  grief-clouded,  blue  eyes  dark  with  tears, 
The  young  South  sighed  above  her  hero' s  bier, 
"  Wear  these  my  favors  in  the  lists  of  Death," 
And  o'er  his  calm  breast  scattered  immortelles. 
What  Launcelot  of  old  in  jousts  and  field 
Did  bravely  for  the  right  with  pen  and  voice. 
With  mind  broad-reaching  and  with  soul  intense, 
Did  this  young  champion  wisely  for  the  truth. 
From  the  loud  echoes  of  rude,  hideous  w;ir 
He  caught  the  murmur  of  a  far-off  peace  ; 
Through  the  fierce  hatred  of  embittered  foes 
He  saw  the  faint  day-star  of  amity  ; 
O'er  the  ruin  of  the  things  that  were 
Beheld  the  shadowy  Angel  of  new  life, 
And,  chosen  from  the  whirl  of  troublous  days, 
With  soul  knit  up  in  valor,  mind  aflame, 
Stood  forth  the  knight  and  prophet  of  good  will, 
Of  peace  with  dignity,  of  manhood's  strength 
Sustaining  brother's  love,  of  industry 
That  keeps  an  equal  pace  with  building  thought, 
Of  old  things  gracious  yielding  place  to  new. 
And  from  the  mists,  responsive  to  his  call, 
Came  forth  in  radiance,  virgin-robed, 
The  starry  maiden  of  sweet  hope,  and  smiled — 
Put  forth  her  willing  palm  to  meet  his  own, 
And  walked  with  him  the  valleys  of  Re-birth, 
And  where  they  passed  the  earth  grew  musical, 
And  long-hushed  voices  from  the  caves  of  Doubt 
Swelled  into  melody  of  joyous  faith  ; 


JUS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  337 

While  from  the  forests  of  the  North  swept  down 

The  paean  of  the  Pines,  and  from  the  South 

The  murmur  of  the  Everglades  up  stole 

The  diapason  perfecting.     Stark  fields 

That  fever  had  burned  out  revived  ;  and  marts 

Where  brooded  weird  decay,  and  mills  at  rest, 

The  forge  in  blackness  rusting,  and  the  shop, 

The  school,  the  church,  the  forum,  and  the  stage 

Thrust  off  their  desolation  and  despair 

To  feel  again  the  energy  of  life 

And  know  once  more  the  happiness  of  man. 

Such  was  his  doing  who  was  brave  for  truth  ; 

Such  is  the  legacy  he  leaves  to  pride  ; 

And,  though  the  New  South  mourn  her  fallen  knight, 

His  soul  and  word  move  ever  hand  in  hand 

Adown  the  smiling  valleys  of  Re-birth, 

That  still  shall  bud  and  flower  because  of  him 

And  grow  fair  garlands  for  man's  Brotherhood. 

E.  A.  B. 


33d  HhMCV     \\  .    liKAUY, 


AT  GRADY'S  GRAVE. 


i4  TTTE  live  in   deeds,   not  years ;   in    thoughts,   not 

VV  breadths: 

In  feelings,  not  in  figures  on  a  dial ; 
We  should  count  time  by  heart-throbs  ;  he  most  lives 
Who  thinks  most,  feels  the  noblest,  nets  the  best"  — 
The  Poet,  dreaming  in  divinest  mood, 
Scanning  the  future  with  a  Prophet's  eyes, 
Beheld  the  outlines  of  the  Perfect  Man 
Take  shape  before  the  vision  of  his  soul ; 
And  though  the  beauteous  phantom  could  not  stay, 
He  caught  its  grace  and  glory  in  the  song 
Wherein  he  praises  the  Ideal  Man 

Of  whom  he  dreamed,  and  whom  the  world  should  know, 
When  in  the  teeming  womb  of  Time  the  years 
Had  ripened  him,  mature  in  every  part. 

While  yet  the  world,  expectant  of  this  man, 

Watched,  mutely  wondering  when  and  whence  would  come 

This  radiant  one,  this  full-bloom,  fairest  flower 

Of  manhood's  excellence,  which  Heaven  itself 

Were  fain  to  keep,  to  crown  the  angels  with— 

God  granting  unto  Earth  but  one  or  two 

AVithin  the  cycle  of  a  century— 

Lo  !  suddenly,  from  out  the  realm  of  Dreams, 

The  splendid  Vision  of  the  musing  bard, 

His  perfect  and  ideal  Man,  came  forth, 

And  walked  within  the  common  light  of  day, 

A  living,  breathing  Presence — Henry  Grady  ! 

Did  not  this  marvelously  gifted  man, 
Who  trod  with  us  the  old,  familiar  paths, 
And  glorified  them  daily  with  strange  light, 


HIS   LIFE,    \V1MTI  Nti>,    AM)    SPEECHES.  330 

As  if  a  god  were  dwelling  in  our  midst, 

Measure,  full-length,  the  stature  of  the  man 

The  Poet  quarried  from  the  mines  of  Thought  ? 

What  though  his  years  were  brief,  did  he  not  fill 

Their  precious  brevity  with  glorious  deeds, 

Till  he  outlived  the  utmost  lives  of  men 

Of  lesser  mold,  of  feebler  fibred  souls  ? 

Garnering  betwixt  his  cradle  and  his  grave 

The  ripened  harvests  of  a  century  ! 

Did  he  not  live  in  thoughts  as  flowers  live 

In  sunshine,  filling  the  whole  world  with  light, 

And  the  celestial  fragrance  of  his  soul ! 

Did  he  not  live  in  feelings  so  refined, 

That  every  heart-string  into  music  woke, ' 

Though  touched  more  lightly  than  a  mother's  mouth 

Would  touch  the  sleep-sealed  eyelids  of  her  babe  ! 

Ah,  were  the  throbs  of  his  great,  loving  heart, 

Meet  as  a  measure  for  his  span  of  life  ? 

Would  not  such  measure  circle  all  the  world, 

And  find  no  end,  save  in  infinity  ? 

If  he  lives  most — (and  who  shall  dare  deny 

A  truth  which  is  as  true  as  God  is  true  ?) 

If  he  doth  live  the  most  who  thinks  the  most, 

Who  feels  the  noblest,  and  who  acts  the  best, 

Thou,  O  my  friend  !  didst  to  the  utmost  mete 

Of  transitory  mortal  life  live  out 

Thine  earthly  span,  though  to  our  eyes  thy  life 

Seems  like  the  flashing  of  a  falling  star, 

Which  for  a  moment  fills  the  heavens  with  light, 

And  vanishes  forever. 

Nay,  not  so— 

The  Poet's  words  are  thy  best  epitaph  ! 
And  though  the  stone  which  marks  thy  grave  but  tells 
The  number  of  the  years  thy  mortal  frame 
Retained  that  eagle-winged  soul  of  thine, 
How  long  thy  all-compassionating  heart 
Inhabited  its  clayey  tenement, 
As  one  of  God's  blest  almoners,  sent  down 


\v. 

To  fill  the  world  with  light  and  melody  ; 
Tells  when  that  prophet -tonum-  of  thine  was  ^tilled, 
Which,  touched  with  inspiration's  sacred  lire. 
Preached  Man's  eternal  l>rot herhood.  and  led 
The  battle  waged  for  . I  list  ice.  Tnilli,  and   Right, 
Still,  and  despite  the  tears  that  Sorrow  woos 
From  the  spontaneous  fountains  of  our  hearts, 
We  know  that  thou  didst  come  unto  thy  grave 
Brimful  of  years,  if  noble  deeds  and  thoughts, 
If  love  to  God  and  Man,  be  made  alone 
The  measure  of  thy  length  of  human  years  ; 
And  that,  even  as  thy  soul  beyond  the  stars 
Shall  live — as  God  lives — everlastingly, 
So  shall  the  memory  of  thy  shining  deeds, 
Remain  forever  in  the  hearts  of  men  ; 
Nor  shall  the  record  of  thy  fame  be  touched 
By  Time's  defacing  hand — thou  art  immortal ! 

And  now,  dear  friend,  farewell  to  thee  !    Thine  eyes 

Have  death's  inviolate  seal  upon  their  lids  ; 

They  cannot  see  the  Season's  glorious  shows, 

Although,  methinks,  in  memory  of  thee 

The  grass  grows  greener  here,  and  tenderer 

The  daily  benediction  of  the  sun 

Falls  on  thy  grave,  as  if  thy  very  dust 

Had  sentience  still,  and,  kindling  into  life 

Under  the  fiery  touchings  of  the  sun, 

Broke  through  the  turfy  barriers  of  the  tomb 

To  mingle  with  the  light,  and  mellow  it ; 

There's  not  a  flower  that  timidly  uplifts 

Its  smiling  face,  to  look  upon  the  Dawn, 

Or  bows  its  head  to  worship  silently 

The  awful  glory  of  the  midnight  stars, 

But  what  takes  on  a  gentler  grace  for  thee, 

And  for  thy  sake  a  sweeter  incense  flings 

From  out  its  golden  censer. 

Nor,  my  friend, 
Will  thy  dull  ears  awaken  to  the  songs, 


HIS   LIFE,    WlilTIXfJS,    AND   SPEECHES.  341 

Of  jubilant  birds,  the  Summer's  full-voiced  choir, 

Singing  thy  praises — for  they  sing  of  Love, 

And  Love  was  the  high  choral  of  thy  life, 

The  swan-song  of  thy  soul ;  thou  canst  not  hear 

The  sweetest  sounds — made  sweeter  for  thy  sake 

By  the  presiding  Genius  of  this  place— 

The  silvery  minor-music  of  the  rain, 

Those  murmurous  drops,  with  iterations  soft, 

Of  every  flower,  and  trembling  blade  of  grass, 

A  fairy's  cymbal  make  ;  the  whispering  wind, 

The  sea-like  moaning  of  the  distant  pines, 

The  sound  of  wandering  streams,  or,  sweeter  still, 

The  voice  of  happy  children  at  their  play— 

Ah,  none  of  these  interminable  tones 

Of  Nature's  many-chorded  instrument, 

Which  make  the  music  of  the  outward  world, 

As  thou  didst  make  its  inner  harmony, 

Out  of  the  finer  love-chords  of  thy  heart, 

Shall  ever  move  thee  ;  but  a  mightier  charm 

Shall  often  woo  thee  from  thy  heavenly  home, 

To  shed  upon  thy  place  of  sculpture 

The  splendor  of  a  Presence  from  the  skies  ; 

For  thou  shalt  see  a  fairer  sight  than  all 

The  panoramas  of  the  Seasons  bring, 

And  hear  far  sweeter  music  than  the  sound 

Of  murmuring  waters,  or  the  melody 

Of  birds  that  warble  in  their  happy  nests  : 

Yea,  thou  shalt  see  how  little  children  come 

To  deck  thy  grave  with  daisies,  wet  with  tears  ; 

See  homeless  Want  slow  hither  wend  his  way, 

To  bless  the  ashes  of  "  the  poor  man's  friend," 

And  from  the  scant  dole  of  his  wretchedness, 

Despite  his  hunger,  lay  a  liberal  gift 

Upon  thy  grave,  in  token  of  his  love  ; 

And  in  the  pride  and  glory  of  her  state, 

Sceptred  and  crowned,  the  Spirit  of  the  South, 

Whose  Heart,  and  Soul,  and  living  Voice  thou  wert, 

Will  come  with  Youth  and  Manhood  by  her  side, 


IIKMIV    \V.    ORADY, 

To  draw  fresh  inspirations  from  thy  dust, 

And  consecrate  her  children  with  thy  fume, 

Till  they  have  learned  the  lessons  of  thy  life, 

And  glorify  her,  too,  with  noble  deeds  ; 

Thou  shalt  behold  here,  coming  from  all  lands, 

The  men  who  honor  Love  and  Loyalty, 

Who  glory  in  the  strength  of  those  who  scale 

The  mountain-summits  of  Humanity, 

And  from  their  star-encircled  peaks  proclaim 

The  Fatherhood  of  the  Eternal  God, 

The  Brotherhood  of  Man — both  being  one 

In  holy  bonds  of  justice,  truth,  and  love — 

Christ's  "Peace  on  Earth  and  good- will  unto  Men  " — 

That  old  evangel,  preached  anew  by  thee, 

Till  the  persuasion  of  thy  golden  tongue 

Quickened  and  moved  the  world  with  mighty  love, 

As  if  a  god  had  come  to  earth  again ! 

CHARLES  W.  HUBNER. 
ATLANTA,  GA. 


MEMORIAL  MEETINGS. 


THE  ATLANTA  MEMORIAL  MEETING. 


From  the  "  Constitution,"  December  21. 

THE  overflowing  hearts  of  a  sorrowing  people  found 
expression  in  words  yesterday. 

Memorial  services  to  the  memory  of  the  dead  Grady  were 
held  in  DeGive'  s  Opera  House,  and  for  three  hours  eulo- 
gies were  pronounced  on  his  name. 

Loving  lips  and  dewy  eyes  told  the  sorrow  of  a  bereaved 
people  gathered  to  pay  the  last  public  tribute  to  their 
departed  friend. 

The  service  began  at  11  o'clock,  and  continued  until  2. 

At  half-past  ten  the  various  escorts  assembled  at  the 
Chamber  of  Commerce.  There  they  formed  and  marched 
to  the  Opera  House  in  a  body.  General  Clement  A.  Evans, 
D.D..  and  Rev.  Dr.  J.  W.  Lee,  D.D.,  headed  the  procession. 
Following  them  were  the  speakers  of  the  occasion,  pall- 
bearers, honorary  escort  and  members  of  the  Chi  Phi  Fra- 
ternity, headed  by  Mayor  John  T.  Glenn. 

At  the  Opera  House  the  delegations  were  ranged  on  the 
stage.  They  were  Dr.  J.  B.  Hawthorne,  Dr.  H.  C.  Morri- 
son, Dr.  N.  C.  Barnett,  General  Clement  A.  Evans,  Judge 
W.  R.  Hammond,  Judge  W.  T.  Newman,  Mayor  John  T. 
Glenn,  Hon.  John  Temple  Graves,  Prof.  H.  C.  White,  of 
Athens;  Hon.  Patrick  Walsh,  of  Augusta;  Julius  L.  Brown, 
W.  A.  Hemphill,  Dr.  J.  W.  Lee,  Charles  S.  Northen,  Louis 
Gholstin,  T.  L.  Meador,  B.  B.  Crew,  Donald  Bain,  Hon.  N. 
J.  Hammond,  Captain  J.  W.  English,  Governor  Gordon, 
John  C.  Calhoun,  of  New  York  ;  Judge  Howard  Van  Epps, 
Patrick  Calhoun,  Albert  H.  Cox,  W.  R.  Joyner,  C.  A. 
Collier,  John  Colvin,  Porter  King,  Captain  Everett,  S.  M. 
Inman,  Professor  Bass,  Major  Jno.  A.  Fitten,  Captain  R. 
I.  Lowry,  L.  J.  H.I],  W.  TL  Thompson,  J.  A.  Wright,  H. 

345 


346  H  I:\KV  \v.  <;KADT, 

C.  White,  W.  P.  Hill,  Arnold  Broyles,  and  other  members 
of  the  Chi  Phi;  W.  .!.  (Jam-tt,  W.W.  Boyd,  W.  L.  Cal- 
lioun,  Hon.  T.  H.  Mustin,  of  Madison  ;  R.  D.  Spalding, 
M.  C.  Riser,  J.  J.  Giiiliii.  .1.  R.  Wyly,  H.  B.  Tompkins,  L. 
B.  Nelson,  Charles  Keith,  Judge  George  Hillyer,  Gus 
Long,  Dr.  Crawford,  J.  G.  Oglesby,  J.  J.  Spalding,  John 
J.  Falvey,  Clark Howell,  Jr.,  F.  M.  O' Bryan,  C.  A.  Fouche, 
of  Rome,  and  others. 

The  Opera  House,  inside  and  out,  was  draped  in  sable 
and  white,  and  on  the  stage,  forming  a  fragrant  back- 
ground, was  a  mass  of  beautiful  flowers  and  floral  pieces. 
In  the  center  of  the  group  was  the  lovely  offering  of  the 
dead  man's  associates  and  employes,  standing  out  from  a 
setting  of  palms  and  roses.  To  the  right  of  this  central 
piece  was  the  crown  from  the  people  of  Boston,  and  to  the 
left  the  tribute  from  the  Virginia  Society. 

To  the  front  and  at  each  side  of  the  stage  was  a  life-size 
crayon  portrait  of  Mr.  Grady,  heavily  draped,  and  resting 
on  a  gilded  easel.  Round  the  base  of  the  easel  were 
flowers  and  plants  of  delicate  foliage,  perfuming  the  air 
with  their  fragrant  breath,  and  seeming  to  send  sweet 
messages  to  the  loved  face  above. 

The  galleries  and  boxes  were  all  hung  in  mourning. 

General  CLEMENT  A.  EVANS  opened  the  service  with 
prayer,  full  of  words  of  sweetness  and  comfort,  and  of 
grateful  thanks  for  the  good  already  accomplished  by  the 
one  that  is  gone,  even  in  so  short  a  sojourn  on  the  earth. 
General  Evans  prayed  calmly  and  simply,  concluding  with 
the  invocation  of  God's  blessing  to  those  left  behind,  and 
an  inspiration  to  those  who  were  to  speak  of  the  departed 
soul. 

Mayor  GLENN,  who  presided  over  the  service,  then  arose 
and  announced  the  order  of  exercises.  He  said  he  was  too 
sick  of  heart  to  attempt  to  offer  a  tribute  to  the  memory  of 
his  dead  friend,  and  contented  himself  with  a  few  simple 
words  of  preface. 

Judge  W.  R.  HAMMOND  was  introduced,  and  read  the 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  347 

following  tribute  of  the  Chi  Phi  Fraternity,  of  which  Mr. 
Grady  was  one  of  the  charter  members  at  the  State  Uni- 
versity : 

THE   CHI   PHI   MEMORIAL. 

The  following  memorial  and  resolutions  were  prepared 
by  a  committee  appointed  by  a  number  of  members  of  the 
Chi  Phi  Fraternity,  who  assembled  in  Atlanta  upon  the 
announcement  of  the  death  of  Henry  W.  Grady,  who  was 
a  member  of  that  Fraternity,  and  were  read  by  Judge  W.  R. 
Hammond : 

It  is  sad  beyond  the  power  of  expression  to  be  compelled  to-day,  and 
from  this  time  henceforth,  to  speak  of  Henry  W.  Grady  as  dead.  But 
it  is  with  the  profoundest  pleasure  that  we  take  occasion  to  give  utter- 
ance to  our  appreciation  of  his  virtues,  and  bear  testimony  to  those 
high  qualities  in  him  that  marked  him  in  many  respects,  not  only  as 
one  of  the  leading  men  of  his  State  and  section,  but  as  one  of  the  fore- 
most men  of  his  times. 

It  is  peculiarly  appropriate  that  his  club-mates  of  the-  Chi  Phi 
Fraternity  should  perpetuate  his  memory,  because  he  was  one  of  its 
charter  members  at  the  State  University,  and  always  gave  to  it  a  place 
of  unusual  warmth  in  his  affections,  ever  manifesting,  in  his  attach- 
ment to  its  principles  and  to  its  members,  that  freshness  of  enthusiastic 
ardor  which  so  strikingly  characterized  him  in  his  college  days.  How 
well  do  we  remember  him — those  of  us  who  were  accustomed  to  be 
with  him  in  those  days — as,  with  buoyant  tread  and  sparkling  eye  and 
merry  smile,  he  went  out  and  came  in  amongst  us,  ever  bearing  in  his 
frank,  generous,  hearty  manner,  the  cheeriest  good  will  to  all,  and  the 
unmistakable  evidence  of  malice  and  ill-will  toward  none.  Easily  and 
quickly  did  he  win  the  hearts-  of  all  his  club  and  college-mates,  and  it 
was  their  delight  to  do  him  honor  whenever  occasion  permitted. 

As  it  was  then  among  the  boys,  so  it  was  afterwards  among  men. 
He  wore  his  heart  upon  his  sleeve,  and  gave  it  to  all  without  reserve. 
In  some  this  characteristic  would  have  been  weakness,  but  in  him  it 
was  a  chief  element  of  strength  because  of  the  very  fact  that  he  pos- 
sessed it  in  such  a  marked  and  striking  degree.  Even  those  who  were 
his  enemies  were  won  to  him  when  they  came  into  his  presence,  and 
had  their  dislikes  charmed  away  by  the  magnetism  of  his  manner  and 
his  open  and  unreserved  frankness. 

Henry  Grady  had  eminent  characteristics  which  made  him  great, 
and  it  is  proper  and  right  that  we  should  place  upon  record  our  esti- 


HKNKY     \V.    CKADY, 

mate  <>f  thorn,  and  cannot  hut  be  highly  beneficial  to  us  to  thoughtfully 
consider  .SOUK-  of  them. 

His  mind  was  exceedingly  subtle,  and  his  perceptible  powers  unusu- 
ally and  remarkably  keen,  lie  comprehended  at  a  glance,  and  dis- 
criminated as  if  by  intuition.  It  was  this,  doubtless,  that  gave  him 
that  wonderful  expn ->M\ ••  -IH->S  of  speech  which  so  completely  captivated 
all  whoever  heard  him.  He  saw  clearly — therefore  he  had  po\ 
make  others  see. 

We  all  have  within  us  at  times  vague  and  inexpressible  thoughts, 
and  we  feel  a  desire  for  some  one  who  can  interpret  them  for  us,  and 
give  utterance  and  expression  to  that  which  we  cannot  even  put  into 
the  form  of  a  suggestion.  We  feel  the  need  of  a  Daniel  who  can  tell 
us  the  dream,  and  then  give  us  the  interpretation  of  it.  Who  that  has 
listened  to  the  magic  of  Grady's  speech,  or  gathered  the  subtle  thought 
from  his  well-chosen  words,  has  not  found  in  them  the  expression  of 
that  which  seemed  to  lie  slumbering  in  his  own  bosom,  only  to  be 
awakened  by  the  touch  of  his  master  hand  !  Such  is  the  service  which 
genius  renders  to  humanity,  and  such  did  he  render  for  us  with  a 
power  that  was  almost  matchless  and  unapproachable. 

But,  superb  as  were  his  mental  gifts,  it  was  not  this  alone,  or  even 
chiefly,  that  made  him  great  and  gave  him  power  such  as  few  ever 
possessed  j;o  attract  men  to  him.  There  have  been  those  who  equaled 
if  they  did  not  surpass  him  here,  but  who  yet  have  failed  to  impress 
themselves  upon  humanity  with  a  tithe  of  the  force  exerted  by  him.  It 
was  his  great  heart  that  endeared  him  to  us  all  and  made  us  love  him 
and  rejoice  in  his  success,  with  a  feeling  that  knew  no  jealousy,  and 
ever  prompted  us  to  bid  him  God-speed  in  his  onward  and  upward 
career  to  the  high  destiny  which  seemed  to  await  him. 

True  love  is  unmistakable  in  its  manifestations.  He  who  really  and 
truly  loves  his  fellows  need  not  fear  that  they  will  fail  to  find  it  out.  It 
will  manifest  itself,  not  in  the  arts  and  wiles  of  the  demagogue,  but  in 
a  thousand  ways  which  need  not  be  premeditated,  and  cannot  be  mis- 
judged or  misunderstood. 

Grady  loved  humanity,  and  love  with  him  was  not  weak  sentimen- 
tality, but  strong,  over-mastering  passion.  He  loved  humanity,  not  in 
the  abstract,  but  in  the  person  of  those  members  of  it  who  came  within 
reach  of  him.  And  this  love  to  them  was  not  a  mere  sentiment,  but  a 
real  passion,  to  which  he  gave  expression  in  his  never-tiring  acts  of 
devotion  and  his  ceaseless  efforts  to  aid  them  in  every  way  and  by  every 
means  that  lay  in  his  power.  It  was  thus  that  he  grappled  his  friends 
to  him  with  hoops  of  steel  and  held  them  in  a  grasp  which  nothing 
could  loosen. 

It  was  Grady's  strong  emotional  nature  that  jrave  wings  to  his  words 
and  carried  them  so  deep  into  the  hearts  of  his  fellow  men.  Thought 


HIS    LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND    SPEECHES.  349 

must  have  feeling  back  of  it  before  it  can  have  power  to  stir  men's 
blood  and  move  them  to  action.  The  twain  must  be  married  together 
as  one,  and .  from  their  union  springs  a  light  and  power  which  are 
potent  factors  in  the  redemption  of  humanity.  In  Grady  they  \\crc 
united,  and  hence  his  words  burnt  their  way  Into  the  souls  of  men. 
The  magnificence  of  his  thoughts,  and  the  untold  wealth  of  feeling 
which  sprang  from  his  great  heart,  were  not  to  be  resisted,  and  easily 
won  and  held  the  admiration  and  homage  of  his  fellow  men. 

But  the  deep  pathos  of  Grady's  heart,  so  often  stirred  into  those 
grand  utterances  which  made  him  famous,  seems  now  to  have  been  but 
the  prophecy  of  the  far  deeper  pathos  of  his  untimely  death.  Oh  how 
sad  it  was  to  see  him  lying  there  upon  his  bier  mute  and  motionless, 
when  but  yesterday  the  nation  hung  upon  his  words,  and  men  of  all 
sections  and  political  parties  delighted  to  do  him  honor.  Oh  how 
strong  in  our  breasts  is  the  wish  that  he  might  have  lived,  not  only  for 
himself,  his  family  and  friends,  but  also  for  the  sake  of  his  country, 
and  especially  his  beloved  Southland,  just  beginning  to  feel  the  disen- 
thrallment  from  her  bonds,  and  to  realize  that  one  had  arisen  who 
seemed  to  have  the  power  to  place  her  before  the  Nation  and  the  world 
in  her  rightful  position,  and  claim  for  her  that  sympathy  and  forbear- 
ance which  she  so  much  needs  in  the  solution  of  the  great  problem 
which  has  been  thrust  upon  her. 

But  he  is  gone,  and  we  can  only  mourn  his  loss,  and  indulge  the 
hope  that  the  good  he  has  done  may  live  after  him,  and  that  even  the 
sad  bereavement  of  his  death  may  do  much  to  help  seal  the  truth  of  his 
last  public  utterance  upon  the  hearts  of  the  people  of  this  great  country, 
and  ultimately  bring  them  together  as  one  in  a  union  of  fraternal 
fellowship  and  love. 

Resolved,  That  in  the  death  of  our  brother,  Henry  W.  Grady,  our 
Fraternity  has  lost  one  of  its  most  honored  and  devoted  members. 

Resolved,  That  we  tender  to  his  bereaved  family  our  sincere  and 
heartfelt  sympathy. 

Resolved,  That  a  copy  of  this  memorial  and  resolutions  be  sent  to 
his  family. 

Resolved,  That  the  city  papers  be  requested  to  publish  these  proceed- 
ings, and  that  a  copy  be  sent  to  the  national  organ  of  the  Chi  Phi  Fra- 
ternity. 

J.  W.  LEE, 
J.  T.  WHITE, 
B.  H.  HILL, 


ANDREW  CALHOUN, 
W.  H.  HILL, 
JACK  M.  SLATON, 
W.  R.  HAMMOND, 


Committee. 


JIKNRY    W.    GRADY 


Hon.  I  'a  trick  Walsh  was  introduced  by  Mayor  Glenn, 

and  >aid  : 

AIH>i:i-><    OF    HON.    PATRICK    WALSH. 

Mr.  Chairman,  Ladies  and  Fellow-Citizens:  We  aie 
here  to  pay  a  tribute  to  the  worth  and  greatness  of  the 
dfparted  —  to  him  who  did  so  much  for  the  prosperity  ol' 
the  great  and  goodly  city  of  Atlanta  ;  to  him  who  did  so 
much  for  Georgia  and  the  South,  and  to  him  who  did  so 
much  for  the  restoration  of  peace  and  good  will  among  the 
people  of  all  sections  of  our  common  country. 

The  most  gifted  and  useful  public  man  of  his  day  has 
passed  away  in  the  person  of  Henry  W.  Grady.  I  will 
refer  briefly  to  him  as  an  editor  before  he  electrified  the 
country,  and  won  plaudits  from  his  countrymen  by  the 
magic  of  his  winsome  eloquence. 

I  met  him  for  the  first  time  about  twenty  years  ago  at  a 
meeting  of  the  Georgia  Press  Association  in  the  city  of 
Augusta.  Although  he  had  not  reached  his  majority,  he 
was  the  proprietor  and  editor  of  the  Rome  Commercial^ 
which  was  his  first  newspaper  venture.  He  was  then  a 
striking  and  manly  youth,  and  gave  promise  of  a  career  of 
prominence  and  usefulness  in  the  field  of  journalism.  He 
moved  from  Rome  to  Atlanta  and  was  engaged  for  a  few 
years  in  editing  the  Herald,  one  of  the  brightest  and  most 
enterprising  newspapers  in  the  State.  He  acquired  reputa- 
tion as  a  correspondent  during  the  period  of  reconstruction, 
and  subsequently  represented  one  of  the  leading  journals 
of  the  North  as  its  special  representative  in  Florida  during 
the  memorable  campaign  of  1876,  when  the  returning  board 
of  that  State  negatived  the  will  of  the  people.  Mr.  Grady 
gave  the  country  graphic  and  truthful  pictures  of  the  evils 
which  the  South  endured.  He  strikingly  depicted  the 
wrongs  imposed  upon  our  people  and  exposed  the  usurpa- 
tion of  those  placed  in  authority  by  the  aid  of  the  general 
Government.  During  that  sad  period  of  the  South'  s  event- 
ful history,  he  rendered  signal  service  to  the  people,  and  the 


HIS    LIFK,    WKITIMiS,    AND    M'KKCIIKS.  351 

principles  which  he  advocated,  with  a  steadfast  devotion  and 
an  exalted  patriotism. 

His  reputation  as  a  journalist  is  identified  with  the 
growth  and  prosperity  of  that  great  newspaper,  in  the 
upbuilding  of  which  he  took  such  a  conspicuous  part.  The 
Constitution  stands  as  a  monument  to  his  ability  as  an 
editor.  His  versatility  as  a  writer  was  something  phe- 
nomenal. There  was  no  subject  within  the  range  of  the 
press  that  he  did  not  discuss  with  a  grace  and  facility  that 
were  captivating  and  with  a  clearness  and  vigor  that  were 
convincing.  His  imagination  glowed  with  luminous 
thoughts  which  were  clothed  in  the  diction  of  polished 
rhetoric.  Without  disparagement  to  the  living  or  the 
dead,  he  won  the  first  place  in  the  ranks  of  Southern 
journalists. 

I  speak  of  Mr.  Grady  as  an  editor.  Others  will  speak 
of  him  as  an  orator.  Oratory  was  a  natural  gift  with  him. 
It  was  born  in  him.  Where  others  struggle  to  win  success, 
he,  by  reason  of  his  genius,  reached  the  mountain  top,  and 
from  this  great  eminence  spoke  to  the  ear  of  the  Nation  and 
captured  the  hearts  of  the  people.  He  achieved  greatness 
by  reason  of  his  vigorous  mentality,  and  his  fame  as  an 
editor  and  as  an  orator  is  voiced  by  the  sentiments  of 
admiring  but  sorrowing  friends  in  all  sections  of  the  Union. 
He  has  been  stricken  before  his  time.  Already  the  first  of 
his  generation,  if  his  life  had  been  spared  his  opportunity 
for  greatness  would  have  broadened  and  given  him  in  "  the 
applause  of  listening  senates"  afield  for  the  exercise  of 
those  great  gifts  with  which  he  was  so  richly  endowed. 
He  died  too  soon  for  his  people  and  for  his  country.  But 
his  name  and  his  fame  will  be  an  example  and  an  inspir- 
ation to  practice  and  perpetuate  the  principles  of  govern- 
ment in  the  advocacy  of  which  he  yielded  up  his  life. 

"With  charity  for  all  and  malice  toward  none,"  he 
went  about  among  his  countrymen  doing  good.  It  was  his 
mission  to  help  the  poor  and  to  aid  the  deserving.  Every 
good  work  received  the  support  of  his  impulsive  heart  and 
noble  soul.  His  last  speech  was  an  impassioned  and  elo- 


HKXUY    W.    ORADY, 


plea  fora  peaceful  solution  of  that  great  problem 
\\liirh  tin'  South  and  the  South  alone  ran  solve.  It  was 
not  to  oppress,  but  to  elevate  the  colored  man  —  to  enable 
both  races  to  live  in  peace,  and  work  out  their  mission  in 
the  regeneration  of  the  South.  What  he  so  eloquently 
said  in  Boston  represents  the  firm  conviction  of  his  South- 
ern countrymen,  and  his  death  hut  emphasizes  the  truth 
and  force  of  his  position.  The  South  is  free  and  the  intel- 
ligence and  courage  of  her  people  will  preserve  her  and 
her  institutions  for  all  time  from  hostile  and  inferior 
domination. 

The  South  mourns  the  untimely  death  of  Georgia's  bril- 
liant son.  The  North  deeply  sympathizes  with  us  in  the 
death  of  him  whose  last  public  utterance  so  feelingly 
touched  the  patriotic  heart  of  the  people,  and  the  response 
comes  back  from  all  sections  of  a  re-united  people  and  a 
restored  Union.  Few  men  have  accomplished  so  much  for 
the  unification  of  public  sentiment  on  questions  of  grave 
import,  and  there  is  no  one  who  has  accomplished  more  for 
the  material  development  of  his  beloved  South.  He  is 
dead,  but  his  works  will  live  after  him.  His  name  is 
enshrined  in  the  hearts  of  his  grateful  countrymen,  who 
are  saddened  and  bowed  down  with  unspeakable  sorrow. 

Henry  W.  Grady  had  the  zeal  of  a  martyr  and  valor  of  a 
patriot.  If  it  be  permitted  to  mortals  who  have  put  on 
immortality  to  look  upon  this  world  from  their  celestial 
home,  the  incense  of  praise  which  ascends  from  our  stricken 
hearts  will  be  grateful  to  the  soul  of  Henry  Grady.  God 
has  set  his  seal  upon  his  silver  tongue,  and  no  more  for- 
ever will  his  eloquent  voice,  stimulating  his  fellow  country- 
men to  deeds  of  noble  enterprise,  be  heard  on  earth. 
Matchless  the  fertility  of  his  mind,  matchless  the  magic 
and  power  of  his  presentation,  matchless  his  power  of 
organization,  matchless  his  power  of  accomplishment. 
Truly,  indeed,  can  it  be  said  of  him,  there  is  no  man  left 
to  fill  his  place. 

May  his  golden  soul  rest  in  the  bosom  of  the  God  that 
gave  it,  is  the  humble  but  heartfelt  prayer  of  one  who 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPKKCHES. 

admired  and  respected  him  living,  and  who  mourns  and 
reveres  him  dead. 

ADDRESS   OF   HON.    B.    II.    HILL. 

I  cannot  speak  in  studied  phrase  of  my  dead  friend. 
The  few  simple  words  I  can  trust  my  faltering  lips  to  utter 
will  come  from  a  heart  burdened  with  grief  to  deep  for  lan- 
guage to  express.  A  grief  whose  crushing  weight,  outside 
of  my  own  home  circle,  has  taken  away  from  life  its  bright- 
est hopes  and  its  highest  inspiration. 

In  the  summer  of  1866  I  first  met  Henry  Gfrady,  even 
then  giving  promise  of  marvelous  gifts  of  mind  and  heart. 
From  that  summer  evening,  remembered  now  as  though  it 
were  but  yesterday,  I  have  loved  him  with  all  a  brother's 
devotion  and  tenderness.  During  all  these  years  there  has 
been  no  shadow  on  our  friendship  and  no  secrets  in  our 
hearts.  In  prosperity  he  has  rejoiced  with  me,  and  wiien 
sorrow  and  trouble  came  no  voice  was  as  cheering,  no  sym- 
pathy was  as  sweet  as  his.  Only  a  year  ago,  when  death 
came  into  my  home  and  took  the  one  little  blossom  that 
had  bloomed  in  my  heart  as  my  own,  he  wrote  to  my 
mother  words  of  tenderest  comfort  for  her  and  of  love  for 
me — words  that  are  inexpressibly  precious  'to  me  now.  Out 
of  my  life  into  the  beautiful  beyond  have  passed  the  two 
friends  I  loved  best  on  earth — the  chivalrous  Gordon,  the 
peerless  Grady.  God  keep  my  friends  and  lead  them 
gently  through  the  meadow-lands  where  the  river  flows 
in  song  eternal.  I  know  that  near  its  crystal  banks, 
where  the  birds  sing  sweetest  and  flowers  bloom  brightest, 
they  have  clasped  hands  in  blessed  and  happy  reunion. 
The  love  with  which  Henry  Grady  inspired  his  friends  has 
never  been  surpassed  by  mortal  man.  Beautiful  and  touch- 
ing have  been  the  expressions  of  devotion  that  have  come 
to  his  family.  I  believe  that  there  are  hundreds  all  over 
this  State  who  would  gladly  take  his  place  in  yonder 
silent  tomb,  if  by  so  doing  they  could  restore  him  to  the 
people  who  loved  him  and  who  need  him  so  greatly.  It  is 
not  his  great  genius,  unrivaled  as  it  was  ;  not  his  fervent 


II  i:\KV    W.    GRADY, 

patriotism,  unselfish  as  it  was;  not  his  wonderful  elo- 
quence, matchless  as  it  was;  not  his  public  spirit,  willing 
a>  it  was— these  are  not  the  recollections  tliat  have  moved 
the  peoplv  as  they  have  never  been  moved  before. 

But  it  was  the  great  heart  of  the  man  beating  in  loving 
sympathy  with  suffering,  touching  with  sweetest  enconi 
meiit  the  lowly  and  struggling,  carrying  the  sunshine  of  his 
own  radiant  life  into  so  many  unhappy  lives,  that  now  bow 
down  the  hearts  of  the  people  under  the  weight  of  a  per- 
sonal loss. 

Henry  Grady  lived  in  an  atmosphere  of  love.  In  him 
there  was  greatness — greatness  unselfish — unconscious — 
gentle  as  the  heart  of  a  child.  In  him  there  was  charity- 
charity  white  and  still  as  the  moonlight  that  shines  into 
the  shadows  of  night.  In  him  there  was  heroism — the 
heroism  of  the  knight  that  drew  no  sword,  but  waved  in 
his  hand,  high  above  his  white  plumed  brow,  the  sacred 
wand  of  peace,  of  love,  of  fraternity.  In  him  there  was 
patriotism,  but  a  patriotism  as  pure  and  steadfast  as  a  flame 
burning  as  a  passion  for  the  people  he  loved.  As  I  con- 
template this  life  through  the  years  that  I  have  known  him 
so  well,  I  feel  as  one  who  has  seen  the  sun  rise  in  the  cloud- 
less spring  time,  warming  into  beauty  all  the  flowers  of  the 
earth,  and  winning  into  praise  all  the  songsters  of  the  air. 
at  noonday,  when  all  earth  was  rejoicing  in  its  light  and 
growing  in  its  strength,  suddenly  fade  away,  leaving  the 
land  in  darkness.  Henry  Grady  was  the  great  sun  of  the 
Southland,  under  whose  fervid  eloquence  the  cold  heart 
of  the  North  was  melting  into  patience,  confidence,  justice, 
sympathy  and  love.  It  is  no  exaggeration  to  say  that  he 
was  the  great  hope  of  the  country. 

The  eyes  of  the  South  were  looking  toward  him  with 
hope.  The  ears  of  the  North  were  listening  to  him  with 
faith.  Inscrutable,  indeed,  are  the  ways  of  a  Providence 
that  demanded  a  life  so  richly  endowed,  so  potential  for 
good.  And  yet  it  is  the  finite  mind  that  would  question 
either  the  mercy  or  wisdom  of  the  In  Unite.  Our  hero  could 
not  have  died  at  a  time  when  he  was  dearer  to  his  people. 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  355 

His  last  brave,  eloquent  message  will  find  its  way,  has  found 
its  way,  to  the  hearts  and  consciences  of  his  countrymen. 
His  death  is  a  sacrificial  offering  from  whose  altar  rises  even 
now  the  incense  of  perpetual  peace  and  a  perfect  union  of 
brotherly  love.  The  lessons  of  his  life  will  ripen  with  the 
passing  years.  Ages  yet  to  come  will  compass  the  fullness 
of  his  fame  and  time  will  consecrate  the  patriotic  martyr- 
dom of  his  death.  He  sang  like  one  inspired  with  the 
sacred  memories  of  the  past  and  the  glorious  hopes  of  the 
future.  His  works  and  his  noble  qualities  will  expand  and 
multiply  from  his  tomb  as  the  sweet  spice  rushes  from  the 
broken  alabaster  vase.  His  name  will  become  the  synonym 
for  friendship,  charity,  wisdom,  eloquence,  patriotism  and 
love,  wherever  these  virtues  are  known  and  treasured 
among  men. 

To  use  his  own  beautiful  words,  written  of  another : 
<k  Those  who  loved  him  best  will  find  him  always  present. 
They  will  see  him  enthroned  in  every  heart  that  kindles 
with  sympathy  to  others.  They  will  feel  his  kindly  pres- 
ence in  the  throb  of  every  hand  that  clasps  their  hands  in 
the  universal  kinship  of  grief.  They  will  see  his  loving- 
memory  beaming  from  every  eye  as  it  falls  on  theirs."  So 
he  shall  live  in  Georgians  and  with  Georgians  forever  and 
forever.  On  the  monument  which  loving  hands  will  erect 
to  his  memory  let  the  inscription  be  written  :  ' '  At  all  times 
and  everywhere  he  gave  his  strength  to  the  weak — his 
sympathy  to  the  suffering — his  life  to  his  country  and  his 
heart  to  God."  Our  hearts  go  out  to-day  in  tenderest 
sympathy  to  the  loved  ones  at  home.  Those  alone  who 
have  had  the  privilege  of  entering  the  charmed  circle  can 
know  the  void  left  there. 

To  the  mother  who  idolized  this  noble  son — and  he  never 
forgot  her,  for  did  he  not  turn  aside  from  questions  of  state 
to  tell  the  Nation  that  her  knees  were  the  truest  altar  he 
had  ever  found,  and  her  hands  the  fairest  and  strongest 
that  had  ever  led  him  ;  to  the  sweet  and  loving  sister,  the 
companion  of  his  boyhood  ;  to  the  heart-broken  wife 
always  worthy  of  his  love,  devoted  to  him,  ever  dear  to  him; 


356  IIKNKY    W.    (iliADY, 

to  the  sweet  and  gentle  daughter,  the  idol  of  his  heart  and 
household;  to  the  noble  and  manly  son — these  wen-  his 
jewels.  And  us  we  loved  him  so  shall  we  love  them.  I 
have  seen  a  picture  with  a  shaft  of  li^ht  reaching  from 
earth  to  heaven.  Up  the  long,  white  rays,  dazzling  in 
glory  and  transcendant  in  beauty,  an  iminortal  soul  is 
ascending  to  the  illumined  heights — ascending  to  meet  its 
God.  I  think  that  if  there  ever  was  a  soul  borne  upward 
upon  rays  of  glory  it  was  the  beautiful  soul  of  this  friend 
we  loved.  The  golden  beams  of  this  earthly  glory  shining 
into  the  pure  light  of  heaven  wove  his  radiant  pathway  to 
the  stars.  What  an  ascension  for  an  immortal  soul ! 
Earth's  glory  under  his  feet ;  Heaven's  glory  upon  his  brow. 
So  he,  our  immortal,  becomes  God's  immortal.  Oh,  thou 
bright,  immortal  spirit !  Thou  standeth  this  day  in  the 
presence  of  the  angels.  The  King,  in  his  beauty,  hath 
greeted  thee  with  the  welcome  :  Well  done,  well  done  good 
and  faithful  servant ;  the  great  and  good  that  have  i>;, 
from  earth  are  thy  companions,  and  thy  ears  have  heard 
music  sweeter  far  than  all  earthly  plaudits.  Yet  we  miss 
thee  ;  we  mourn  thee  ;  through  the  rifted  heavens  we  greet 
thee  with  grateful  tears  and  undying  love. 

MR.  JULIUS   L.  BROWN'S   SPEECH. 

Again  we  are"  assembled  in  the  house  of  mourning.  Our 
homes  and  public  buildings  are  yet  black  with  the  symbols 
of  our  grief  for  him  who  went  before. 

"  One  woe  doth  tread  upon  another's  heel,  so  fast  they 
follow/' 

Two  short  weeks  ago,  while  we  were  assembled  in  our 
capital  covered  with  the  insignia  of  grief,  to  do  honor  to 
the  memory  of  one  who  had  been  our  chief  when  the  storm 
of  war  raged,  we  received  a  telegram,  mingling  his  grief 
with  ours,  from  him,  then  on  his  journey  of  duty  to  Boston, 
whose  sad  death  we  have  met  this  day  to  mourn. 

Jefferson  Davis  and  Henry  Grady  are  dead.  To-day 
their  souls  commune,  and  we  are  left  to  weep.  In  their 
deaths  the  South  has  lost  two  of  her  noblest  sous.  One 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    ATTO    SPEECHES.  357 

was  gathered  to  his  fathers  full  of  years  and  rich  in  honor. 
He  had  served  his  country  well.  He  had  been  the  chosen 
leader  of  our  people,  when  the  storms  of  war  were  raging. 
He,  as  our  representative,  had  been  subjected  to  insults 
and  to  indignities  by  the  Government  he  had  honored,  and 
in  whose  service  he  had  spent  the  best  years  of  his  life. 
He  passed  away,  and  the  sunset  of  his  life  was  glorious  and 
beautiful. 

We  have  not  yet  put  aside  the  sables  of  grief  we  wear 
for  Jefferson  Davis,  and  yet  in  two  short  weeks  we  have  mot 
to  mourn  the  death  of  him  whom  we  hold  dearer  ;  our 
townsman,  our  daily  associate  and  friend. 

Henry  W.  Grady  has  gone  to  his  last  home. 

One  was  an  old  man,  ready  and  waiting  to  be  called. 
His  day  was  over,  his  work  was  done,  and  he  was  waiting 
for  his  rest.  His  sun  had  risen,  past  its  meridian  in  glory 
and  was  sinking  in  honor.  For  him  the  night  in  due  time 
had  come.  The  other,  was  a  young  man,  full  of  hope  and 
rich  in  promise.  His  sun  had  just  arisen  and  it  gave 
promise  that  before  him  was  yet  a  glorious  day. 

One  was  the  chosen  representative  of  our  people  before 
the  storms  of  war  had  swept  over  us.  He  was  the  repre- 
sentative of  the  South  under  its  old  system.  The  other 
was  the  acknowledged  exponent  of  the  South  under  its 
altered  condition  of  affairs. 

We  weep  for  him  to-day. 

Of  all  the  young  men  in  America  none  had  such  power 
for  good.  None  had  the  ear  of  the  public  so  completely 
as  he  to  be  heard.  None  had  so  eloquent  a  tongue  to 
produce  conviction.  None  had  so  magnetic  a  bearing  to 
induce  followers.  lie  was  ambitious,  yes,  but  for  what  ( 
Not  for  the  spoils  of  office,  not  for  command  of  his  fellow 
man,  not  for  himself,  but  for  his  people.  Years  ago  when 
his  friends  all  over  Georgia  urged  him  to  allow  his  nanu- 1«> 
be  presented  for  a  post  of  honor  in  the  counsels  of  the  Nation 
he  refused.  His  letter  of  declination  was  so  strong,  so 
patriotic,  and  so  unselfish  that  it  commanded  the  adinira 
tion  of  the  world.  I  know  that  even  far-off  New  Zealand 


358  HENRY    W.    GBADY, 

published  his  words  and  did  him  honor.  His  eloquent 
speech  in  New  York  completed  the  structure  of  his  national 
fame.  From  the  night  of  its  delivery  the  whole  country 
ranked  him  among  its  foremost  citizens.  Even  in  down- 
trodden and  oppressed  Cuba  his  eloquent  words  were 
translated  into  the  Spanish  tongue  and  read  with  delight 
while  I  was  there.  The  echoes  of  his  last  eloquent,  match- 
less defense  of  the  South  yet  linger  in  Faneuil  Hall,  and  so 
long  as  its  historic  walls  shall  stand  they  will  be  classed 
with  the  best  efforts  of  Everett  and  of  Webster.  His 
friends  all  over  the  country  read  his  words,  and  wondered 
that  he  was  so  great.  Ambitious  ;  yes,  ambitious  to  be 
able  to  present  the  cause  of  the  South  in  such  a  manner  as 
to  produce  conviction  in  the  minds  and  in  the  hearts  of  its 
most  ultra  defamers,  that  our  people  now  in  good  faith 
accept  as  final  the  construction  placed  upon  the  Constitu- 
tion of  this  country  by  the  victors,  and  that  they  are  as 
absolutely  loyal  and  devoted,  as  are  the  people  of  the 
North,  to  that  Union  against  which  his  father  had  fought. 
With  no  apologies  for  the  past ;  with  no  recantation  of 
the  belief  that  they  were  patriots,  without  in  any  way  cast- 
ing reproach  upon  our  dead,  with  a  nature  grand  enough 
to  admire  Abraham  Lincoln  and  Jefferson  Davis,  he  had 
taken  for  his  high  mission  on  this  earth,  the  task  of 
reconciling  the  people  of  the  sections.  Until  this  great 
mission  was  accomplished,  he  had  no  time  to  devote  to  the 
narrow  duties  of  a  public  office.  Office,  therefore,  he  did 
not  seek.  Office  he  would  not  have.  There  was  but  one 
office  in  this  land  great  enough  for  him.  Had  he  lived 
until  his  sun  had  reached  its  meridian  splendor  there 
would  have  been  a  complete  reconciliation  between  the 
sections.  Partisan  malignity  would  not  have  sought  to 
enact  laws  aimed  at  only  a  part  of  this  grand  country. 
Soon  would  there  have  been  a  complete  union  of  hearts 
between  those  who  had  been  engaged  in  fratricidal  strife, 
which  the  most  ultra  partisanship  could  not  have  severed. 
Too  young  himself  to  be  in  the  war,  but  the  son  of  a  gallant 
Confederate  soldier,  killed  upon  the  field  of  battle,  he, 


HIS    LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND    SPEKrll  ]-:s. 

more  than  any  one  of  older  years,  could  by  his  chosen  pro- 
fession bear  the  messages  of  peace  to  the  North,  and  by  his 
mighty  pen,  by  his  eloquent  tongue,  by  his  melodious 
voice,  and  by  his  commanding  presence  could  he  procure  a 
hearing  from  an  audience  of  strangers  and  produce  convic- 
tion. If  it  be  true  that, 

The  tongues  of  dying  men 

Enforce  attention  like  deep  harmony, 

then  his  last  words,  uttered  in  behalf  of  his  people,  will 
not  have  been  spoken  in  vain. 

In  his  death  the  South  has  lost  its  most  eloquent  advo- 
cate and  its  most  powerful  defender.  America  weeps 
for  one  of  her  noblest  sons.  Who  is  there  to  finish  this 
work  ?  God  grant  that  there  may  rise  some  one  to  com- 
plete his  mission  ! 

He  was  a  man  full  of  impulse  and  a  quick  reader«of  the 
popular  mind.  Well  do  we  all  remember  the  time  when 
the  result  of  a  presidential  election  became  certainly 
known,  how  his  heart,  wild  with  joy  at  what  he  believed 
to  be  the  beginning  of  better  days  for  the  South,  organized 
a  street  procession  and  proceeded  to  the  legislative  halls  of 
this  State,  and  with  his  followers  entered  the  house,  and  in 
his  clear,  ringing  voice  announced,  "  Mr.  Speaker:  A 
message  from  the  American  people,"  and  adjourned  it. 
'Tis  said  that  history  shows  that  there  have  been  but  two 
men  who  have  ever  adjourned  a  parliament  without  a  vote, 
Oliver  Cromwell  and  Henry  Grady.  One  was  an  act  of 
tyranny — the  other  the  expression  of  the  desire  of  every 
member  of  the  house. 

A  citizen  of  Atlanta,  he  loved  Georgia  ;  a  Georgian,  he 
adored  the  South  ;  a  Southerner,  he  worshipped  the  whole 
Union.  He  was  an  American  in  the  fullest  sense  of  that 
term.  There  was  no  work  of  public  or  private  charity 
among  us  which  he  did  not  aid  by  his  tongue,  his  pen,  his 
head  or  his  purse,  whether  that  work  was  to  procure  the 
pardon  of  an  abandoned  young  girl  confined  in  the  chain- 
gang  with  criminals,  or  canvassing  the  streets  of  Atlanta 


IIKXUY    W.    fiRADY, 

through  snow  and  ice,  accompanied  with  a  retinue  <>f 
>ns  and  drays,  to  accumulate  fuel  and  provisions  to 
pivvfiit  our  poor  from  freezing  and  from  starving.  It  was 
in  response  to  his  appeals,  more  than  to  all  else  combined, 
that  a  home  is  now  being  erected  within  sight  of  the  dome 
of  yonder  capitol  for  the  aged  and  infirm  veterans  of  the 
LoM.  Cause.  It  was  to  him  more  than  to  all  others  that  our 
Piedmont  Expositions,  designed  to  show  to  the  world  the 
wealth  of  our  undeveloped  mineral,  agricultural  and  other 
resources,  were  carried  to  a  successful  end.  It  was  through 
his  .persuasive  power  that  the  Chautauqua  Association, 
designed  to  more  thoroughly  educate  our  people,  was 
established. 

But  in  the  limited  time  allotted  to  me,  I  cannot  go  into 
further  details.  If  you  seek  his  monuments,  look  around. 
They  are  in  every  home  and  every  calling  of  life.  In  all 
that  which  has  tended  to  develop  the  material  resources  of 
the  country,  to  enrich  his  people,  to  encourage  education 
and  a  love  of  the  arts,  to  relieve  suffering,  to  provide  for 
the  poor,  and  to  make  our  people  better  and  nobler,  he 
devoted  his  life,  unselfishly  and  without  hope  of  other 
reward  than  the  approval  of  his  conscience. 

He  was  a  model  citizen.  As  a  member  of  society,  he 
was  welcomed  to  every  fireside.  He  was  the  center  of 
every  group.  His  doors  were  open  always  to  strangers. 
He  was  given  to  hospitality.  He  was  the  life,  the  soul 
of  every  enterprise  with  which  he  was  connected.  As 
a  patriot,  his  heart  was  bowed  down  with  grief  that  his 
countrymen  should  be  estranged.  As  a  humanitarian,  his 
great  heart  wept  at  the  suffering  of  the  poor,  and  his  voice 
was  ever  raised  in  behalf  of  the  afflicted  and  oppressed. 
As  a  friend,  he  was  devoted,  unselfish  and  loyal.  Now, 
that  he  is  gone,  we  know  how  dear  he  was  to  us.  We  have 
awakened  to  the  full  appreciation  of  his  great  worth,  and 
of  the  calamity  which  has  befallen  us. 

Yesterday  we  stood  by  his  tomb.  No  private  citizen  in 
this  country  ever  had  such  a  pageant.  For  miles  the 
streets  were  lined  with  people.  We  saw  the  aged  and  the 


HIS    LFFK,    Wi:iTIX(!S,    AM)    SI'KKCII  !!<.  Wl 

young,  the  rich  and  the  poor,  the  white  and  the  black, 
with  eyes  dimmed  by  tears,  with  hearts  bowed  down  with 
sorrow  at  loss  of  him.  They  had  left  their  homes  upon 
our  greatest  festal  day  to  pay  him  the  homage  of  tln-ii- 
tears.  To  each  of  them  his  loss  was  a  personal  sorrow. 

I  knew  Henry  W.  Grady  well,  and  I  loved  him.  To  im- 
his  death  is  a  personal  grief.  He  had  been  my  friend  for 
more  than  twenty- three  years.  Well  do  I  remember  the  day 
I  joined  his  class  in  our  University.  Well  do  I  picture  his 
friendly  presence  as  he  bade  me  welcome  and  invited  me  to 
his  home.  Well  do  I  recall  our  meeting  in  our  college 
societies.  Our  plans,  our  struggles,  our  defeats  and  our 
triumphs  there.  Since  that  time,  I  have  sat  with  him  around 
social  boards.  He  has  been  time  and  again  an  honored  and 
a  welcomed  guest  in  my  house.  I  shall  miss  him  there. 
We  have  been  together  in  public  enterprises,  we  have  met 
in  the  busy  marts  of  men.  We  have  worked  side  by  side, 
and  we  have  differed  upon  questions  of  policy,  but  in  all 
these  differences  he  has  been  my  friend.  I  loved  him,  and 
deplore  his  death. 

We  shall  erect  in  this  city  a  monument  to  commemorate 
his  many  virtues,  and  to  hold  him  up  as  an  example 
before  the  young  and  those  who  come  after  us  ;  but  how- 
ever exalted  that  monument  may  be,  and  however  near  the 
skys  it  may  reach,  the  greatest  and  best  monument  to  us 
who  knew  him  will  be  the  memory  of  his  many  virtues 
which  we  shall  always  treasure  in  our  hearts. 

Sink,  thou  of  nobler  light. 

The  land  will  mourn  thee  in  its  darkening  hour  ; 
Its  heavens  grow  gray  at  thy  retiring  power  ; 
Thou  stirring  orb  of  mind,  thou  beacon  power, 
Be  thy  great  memory  still  a  guardian  might, 
When  thou  art  gone  from  sight. 

Judge  Emory  Speer  was  on  the  list  of  speakers  to  follow 
Mr.  Brown,  but  did  not  reach  the  city  in  time  to  take  part 
in  the  exercises, 


362  HENRY    W.    GRADY, 

SPEECH   OF   HON.  ALBERT  COX. 

Twenty-three  years  ago,  poor  and  painfully  uncertain  of 
even  a  broken  part  of  education,  but  shortly  from  farm  and 
camp  and  captivity,  broken-hearted  and  distrusting  all 
things,  lonesome  in  a  strange  place,  two  companions  met 
me  at  Athens  and  made  me  feel  at  home.  One  of  them 
mourns  to-day  with  me  the  death  of  the  other. 

I  look  across  the  many  years  as  across  a  wide  and  misty 
river  made  up  of  many  streams,  and  recall  the  sunny 
face,  the  glowing  eye,  the  engaging  smile,  the  warm  hand 
formed  ;  it  seemed  to  assure  a  friend  of  love  with  its  very 
clasp — the  happy-hearted,  the  happy-making  Henry  Grady. 

Treasured  by  his  companions  are  traditions  that  his 
generous  hands  were  helpful  even  then.  It  is  known  that 
his  appeal  to  the  "  Great  Old  Commoner"  kept  a  child  of 
the  State  to  the  breast  of  its  own  Alma  Mater.  It  is  known 
that  he  led  the  relief  corps  of  kindness  to  the  aid  of  maimed 
veterans  shivering  in  bitter  winter  at  the  old  rock  college. 
To  suggest  such  deeds  seemed  natural  to  his  heart,  and  to 
do  them  nobly  seemed  inherent  to  his  hand. 

His  was  the  versatile  genius  of  our  class.  Never  fenced 
in  to  his  text-books,  apparently  careless  of  mere  curriculum, 
he  roamed  the  fields  of  literature  more  than  he  tramped  the 
turnpike  of  studies.  Sparkling  and  popular,  genial  and 
beloved,  his  mind  moved  like  a  stream  of  poetry,  cascading 
and  flashing,  banked  in  sweet  flowers,  and  singing  to  sweet 
meadows  made  happy  by  its  song. 

His  address  as  final  orator  of  his  society,  fairly  repre- 
sents the  mind  of  the  man  when  launched.  It  was  an 
exquisite  fiction  of  ideal  life.  He  painted  in  words  an 
island  of  beauty ;  in  the  sweetness  of  his  sentences  the 
fragrance  of  flowers  sweeter  than  nature's  own  seemed  to  be 
wafted  to  rapt  listeners  ;  the  loveliness  of  his  creation  stood 
out  so  vividly  to  the  eye  of  intellect  that  no  one  view  of  any 
grace  in  statuary  or  beauty  in  picture  of  any  artist  would 
be  remembered  better.  It  wns  nn  island  worthy  to  lay  in 
the  same  sea  with  Tennyson's  Island  of  Avilion,  where 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  363 

Knight  and  King  Arthur  was  to  rest  his  soul,  and  I  would 
wish  the  soul  of  my  class-mate  the  sweet  and  eternal  rest  of 
his  own  happy  island,  embowered  in  the  beauties  of  his 
own  sweet  fancies  forever,  did  I  not  believe  that  he  has 
touched  the  pearl-strewn  shore  of  a  better  and  lovelier  land 
than  even  this,  or  even  that  of  which  he  dreamed  ;  that  he 
"  rests  in  the  balm-breathing  gardens  of  God  !  " 

Who  would  dream  that  such  ideality  of  mind  would  be 
composed  with  such  powers  of  business  as  he  had  ?  It  is 
wonderful  that  the  versatile  course  of  his  life,  while  adding 
to  his  breadth,  did  not  lessen  his  depth.  To  but  few, 
indeed,  is  it  endowed  to  be  both  versatile  and  profound. 
His  varied  experience,  like  tributes,  added  to  the  bright- 
ness and  to  the  breadth,  and  to  the  depth  of  his  intellect, 
until  before  touching  the  sea  it  rolled  in  majestic  splendor, 
wide  and  clear  as  the  Potomac,  deep  and  burden-bearing  as 
the  Ohio.  He  had  great  opportunities.  He  worked  and 
won  them.  Starting  without  them,  he  created  them  by 
deserving  them.  That  great  journal,  through  whose  col- 
umns he  and  his  associates  have  done  so  much  to  rebuild 
the  fortunes  and  hopes  of  our  people,  did  not  make  Henry 
Grady.  The  Lord  made  him.  But  his  bereaved  associates 
there  did  all  that  men  can  do  in  the  moulding  of  other 
men.  They  recognized  him  for  what  he  was  and  for  what 
he  could  become.  They  participated  in  the  glorious  work, 
They  surrendered  him,  and  he  surrendered  himself  to  his 
country.  The  first  duty  of  the  Southern  patriot — a  national 
duty  also — was  to  recuperate  this  section.  In  that  duty, 
no  man  out  of  office,  perhaps  no  man  at  all,  has  labored  with 
more  credit  and  with  better  result  than  Henry  W.  Grady. 
For  the  complete  reconciliation  of  the  sections  of  this 
Union  every  patriot  ought  to  strive  and  every  Christian 
ought  to  pray.  Sectional  jealousies  and  angers  are  the 
only  enemies  of  the  Union,  and  those  who  claim  to  place 
the  preservation  of  the  Union  above  all  other  duties,  ought 
to  be  the  foremost  forwarders  of  the  fraternity  of  the 
American  people.  They  who  love  the  Union  should  help 
to  heal  its  wounds. 


:504  KKXKY  w.  GRADY, 

Strange  spectacle!  Noble  culmination  of  a  noble  life! 
From  the  midst  of  those  charged  with  hate  toward  the 
Union,  Henry  W.  Grady  went  forth  a  minister  to  plead  for 
love  to  all  its  parts. 

"Blessed  is  the  peacemaker." 

His  voice  was  for  that  peace  in  our  country  made  per- 
petual by  justice  to  all  and  respect  for  the  sacred  things  of 
earth.  His  voice  was  for  building  an  A nirrican  temple  of 
peace,  not  upon  the  quicksands  of  comparative  power,  sub- 
ject to  the  shift  from  one  section  to  the  other,  but  upon  the 
everlasting  foundations  of  right  to  all,  respect  to  all,  liber- 
ties and  liberality  to  all ! 

Oh,  what  a  cause  he  had  !  If  successful,  unfolded 
glories  of  the  Union  of  future  times  ;  the  sweet  and  swell- 
ing harmonies  of  the  ever-increasing  choir  of  free  and 
happy  States  ;  the  grand  ideals  of  the  venerable  fathers  all 
realized,  and  every  bloom  of  American  hope  fruited  in  hap- 
piness, in  love,  in  liberty,  in  enduring  peace  ! 

And  if  unsuccessful !  If  he  and  those  to  come  must 
plead  in  vain  for  the  unity  as  well  as  union  of  the  country, 
then  the  dread  doubt  whether  all  peace  is  to  be  only  pre- 
paration for  deadly  grapplings  ;  the  dread  doubt  whether, 
as  in  England  and  Scotland,  these  feuds  are  to  harry  our 
homes  and  our  hearts  for  hundreds  of  years  ! 

What  a  cause  !  and,  thank  God,  what  an  advocate  !  It 
would  seem  that  our  own  Southern  sun  had  warmed  and 
sweetened  him  for  the  work.  He  exactly  fitted  the  cul- 
mination and  mission  of  his  life.  His  noble  soul  propelled 
his  thoughts.  His  eloquence  rushed  from  mountain-side 
fountains,  pure  and  bold  and  free.  His  reasoning  was  so 
blended  with  appeal  that  the  one  took  the  shape  of  stating 
truths  in  sequence,  and  his  appeal  seemed  responsive  to 
the  heart-beats  of  his  listeners. 

Thus  the  cause,  the  advocate  and  the  occasion  met,  and 
once  more  in  New  England  a  Southern  man  was  applauded 
as  an  American  patriot.  AY  it  h  the  triple  levers  of  his  great 
soul  and  mind  and  tongue  he  moved  two  mighty  sections. 
with  all  their  weights  of  passions  of  victory  and  passions 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND    SPEECHES.  365 

of  defeat,  with  all  tlieir  weights  of  misconceptions  and 
misjudgments.  With  his  hands  he  moved  these  mighty 
bodies  nearer  each  to  the  heart  of  the  other — nearer  to  that 
true  Union  for  which  the  real  heart  of  this  country,  in 
every  part  of  it,  beats  with  the  pulses  of  a  devoted  love, 
never  entirely  to  be  stilled. 

Oh,  how  nobly  he  must  have  been  inspired  as  he  felt 
the  "rock-ribbed  and  iron-bound"  prejudice  of  New 
England  quiver  to  the  touch  of  his  magic  hand  ;  and  as  her 
snow  began  to  melt  under  the  warmth  of  his  great  heart, 
surely  he  was  the  sunshine  of  this  great  land  ! 

But,  oh,  the  grief  of  it — the  bitter,  bitter  grief  of  it ! 
Just  as  we  knew  how  noble  and  great  he  was,  he  sank 
below  the  horizon  of  life,  never  to  rise  again  ! 

I  shall  always  recall  him  as  dying  like  that  lad  from 
Lombardy,  pictured  by  Browning.  I  shall  think  that  the 
South,  decked  like  a  queen  in  all  her  jewels  of  glory  and 
of  love,  came  to  his  dying  couch  and  said  : 

"  Thou  art  a  Lombard,  my  brother  !    Happy  art  thou,"  she  cried, 
And  smiled  like  Italy  on  him.     He  dreamed  in  her  face  and  died  ! 


ADDEESS  OF  WALTER  B.  HILL,  OF  MACON,  GA. 

Love  was  the  law  of  Henry  Grady's  life.  His  splendid 
eminence  among  his  fellows  teaches  once  again  that  "he 
who  follows  love's  behest  far  exceedeth  all  the  rest."  Its 
strongest  throbs  beat  in  the  inner  circle  of  the  home  ;  but 
in  widening  waves  they  expand  first  into  friendship,  then 
into  public  spirit,  then  into  patriotism,  then  into  philan- 
thropy. When  it  rises  above  these  forms  of  human  atlW- 
tlon  in  the  incense  of  worship — we  give  it  once  more  the 
sacred  name  of  love,  which  it  bore  at  its  fireside  shrine. 
From  Henry  Grady's  heart,  that  first  and  best  and  truest 
and  most  of  all  was  the  home-fond  heart,  there  flowed  out 
in  all  the  prodigality  of  his  generous  soul,  and  yet  with  the 
perfect  adjustment  of  due  degree,  all  those  currents  of  feel- 
ing which  bear  so  many  names  and  yet  are  one.  And  as 


3G6  HKNUY    W.    GRADY, 

he  loved,  so  is  lie  mourned — from  the  hearth  of  a  desolated 
home  to  the  borders  of  a  mighty  nation. 

What  was  he  to  his  friends  ?  I  dare  not  answer  except 
to  muffle  my  own  heart  in  borrowed  words — the  words  of 
('ail vie  over  the  bier  of  the  gifted  Edward  Irving — "His 
was  the  bravest,  freest,  brotherliest  human  soul  mine  ever 
came  in  contact  with." 

What  was  he  to  Atlanta  ?  More  than  any  other  man, 
he  built  this  city  which  he  rightly  loved  as  he  loved  no 
other.  Although  the  feudal  independence  of  the  old 
Southern  life  was  distinctly  promotive  of  individualism- 
yet  it  was  reserved  for  this  young  leader — but  one  remove 
from  that  past  generation,  to  give  to  our  common  country 
the  finest  and  most  conspicuous  type  which  American  citi- 
zenship has  yet  produced  of  that  high  civil  virtue — public 
spirit:  It  is  a  virtue  untaught  in  the  schools — a  grace  and 
a  duty  not  preached  from  the  pulpit :  and  yet,  as  I  study 
its  manifestations  in  this  marvelous  man  whose  suggestion 
and  sagacity  planted  the  cornucopias  of  plenty  amid  indus- 
trial desolation  and  agricultural  poverty — to  me  it  seems 
far  more  in  touch  with  the  brotherhood  of  man  and  the 
helpfulness  of  Christ  than  the  benevolence  which  so  often 
degrades  the  recipient  and  the  zeal  which  burns  so  fiercely 
for  the  conversion  of  opinions.  If  the  Church  does  not 
claim  it  as  the  fruit  of  religion,  the  State  may  be  proud  to 
own  it  as  the  patriotism  of  peace. 

What  was  he  to  Georgia  ?  We  naturally  think  of  the 
material  progress  which  he  inspired. throughout  the  State, 
and  all  due  emphasis  has  been  accorded  to  it.  But  we 
must  not  forget  the  other  forms  of  progress  to  which  he 
was  devoted.  What  a  many-sided  man  he  was  !  He  spent 
himself  to  the  utmost  of  his  wonderful  resources  in  behalf 
of  the  intellectual  culture  of  the  State — in  the  earnest  but 
sweet-spirited  championship  of  that  moral  issue  which  he 
declared  was  "  the  most  hopeful  experiment  ever  under- 
taken in  any  American  city,-"  in  that  magnificent  tribute 
to  the  value  of  her  young  men,  which  Atlanta  has  "  writ 
large  "  in  the  stately  Association  Building.  Ami  thus  he, 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  367 

whose  pen  seemed  like  the  touch  of  Midas  turning  to  the 
gold  of  material  wealth  every  interest  to  which  it  pointed, 
he  teaches  also  that  imperative  lesson  of  our  needy  time- 
that  to  know  and  to  be  are  greater  things  than  to  get  and 
to  have. 

What  was  he  to  the  South  ?    Let  the  laureate  answer  : 

The  voice  of  any  people  is  the  sword — 

The  sword  that  guards  them  or  the  sword  that  beats  them  down. 

More  than  any  other  public  man,  he  was  the  voice  of  his 
people.  His  eloquence  in  magnetic  speech,  and  that  new 
art  his  genius  had  created — the  oratory  of  the  editorial  !— 
along  with  the  voices  in  literature  of  Joel  Chandler  Harris, 
Thomas  Nelson  Page  and  Harry  Stillwell  Edwards,  have 
conquered  a  hearing  at  the  North.  In  glowing  utterance 
and  moving  story,  they  have  set  forth  the  true  and  tender 
pictures  of  the  old  Southern  life,  the  sincere  and  single- 
hearted  heroism  of  the  Confederate  soldier,  the  cordial  but 
self-respecting  loyalty  of  the  South  of  to-day  to  the  restored 
Union.  They  have  brought  it  to  pass  that  in  the  contem- 
porary fiction  of  English-speaking  peoples  the  favorite  scene 
is  amid  the  old  plantations,  and  the  popular  hero  is  the 
boy  that  wore  the  gray.  By  these  subtle  forces  of  genius, 
results  have  been  achieved  which  no  forensic  advocacy  or 
party  zeal  could  ever  have  accomplished.  Old  verdicts  of 
condemnation  and  prejudice  have  been  reversed  ;  and  in 
their  stead,  comprehension  has  come,  patience  is  coming, 
confidence  will  come. 

For  the  sole  but  sufficient  reason  that  the  whole  truth 
demands  it,  I  ought  to  say,  that  from  what  seemed  to  me 
some  of  the  implications  of  his  public  utterances  I  had 
urged  upon  him  my  own  dissent ;  and  his  letter  in  reply, 
permitting  me  to  differ  without  a  discount  in  his  sincere 
esteem,  is  now,  more  than  ever,  one  of  the  treasures  of  my 
life. 

His  work  for  his  people  could  not  have  been  so  ade- 
quately done  had  office  crowned  his  worth.  His  advocacy 
would  then  have  seemed  professional  and  political.  Public 


308  II  i:\KY     W.    CJIJADY, 

station  would  have  put  limitations  on  him — would  have 
narrowed  his  audience.  A  rare  lesson  of  his  life  is  here — 
a  lesson  needed  especially  among  us  whose  habit  lias  been 
to  associate  official  distinction  too  exclusively  with  public 
service.  The  people  are  greater  than  Senate  or  Congr<  — . 
The  official  in  Washington  can  speak  only  to  hi.s  parly. 
But  the  audiences  which  Grady  and  his  generous  eulogist, 
Depew,  commands  show  that  a  man  uncrowned  with  pub- 
lic office  can  be  great  in  public  life,  and  perhaps  thereby 
do  a  greater  work. 

What  was  he  to  the  Nation  ?  Compelled  by  the  limita- 
tions of  the  hour  to  answer  in  one  word,  I  choose  this  : 
He  it  was  who  first  taught  the  rising  generation  of  the 
South  to  bind  the  name  of  Lincoln  with  that  of  Washing- 
ton "as  a  sign  upon  their  hand  and  a  frontlet  on  their 
brow." 

We  stand  face  to  face  with  a  great  mystery.  It  is  the 
tragedy  of  early  death,  like  that  of  Arthur  Henry  Hallam, 
which  wrung  from  the  sweetest  singer  of  our  time  the 
noblest  poem  of  sorrow,  a  poem  whose  pages  have  been  for 
three  days  past  luminous  to  me  with  new  and  richer 
meaning.  Accepting  the  evidence  of  consciousness  in  its 
report  of  the  hopes  and  aspirations  of  the  human  soul, 
there  can  be  but  two  rational  hypotheses  for  this  mystery 
of  an  unfinished  life.  One  has  been  phrased  by  Rrenan  in 
words  like  this  :  "  There  is  at  the  heart  of  the  universe,  an 
infinite  fiend  who  has  filled  the  hearts  of  his  creatures  with 
delusions,  in  order  that  in  awful  mockery  he  may  witness 
the  discomfiture  of  their  despair."  The  other  theory  has 
been  phrased  by  Martineau  in  words  like  these:  "The 
universe,  which  includes  and  folds  us  round,  is  the  life- 
dwelling  of  an  eternal  mind  and  an  infinite  love  ;  and  every 
aspiration  is  but  a  prophecy  of  the  reality  in  that  over- 
arching scene  where  one  incompleteness  is  rounded  out  in 
the  greatness  of  God."  I  need  not  tell  you  which  of  these 
faiths  Henry  Grady  accepted,  or  I  accept.  I  envy  not  the 
man  who  can  think  that  then-  arc  in  this  universe  any 
sliadows  dark  enough  to  quench  his  sunny  spirit.  I 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  369 

believe  (turning  to  his  picture,  on  the  stage)  oh  friend  of 
mine  !  that  I  shall  look  again  into  that  love-lit  eye — that  I 
shall  clasp  once  more  thy  generous  hand  ! 

A  poet  sings  of  the  echoes  of  the  bugle  from  cliff  and 
scar  as  contrasted  with  the  impact  of  human  influence  : 

Oh,  love,  they  die  on  your  rich  sky, 
They  faint  on  hill  and  field  and  river  ; 

Our  echoes  roll  from  soul  to  soul 
And  grow  forever  and  forever ! 

In  all  gratitude  we  can  say  that  we  are  happier  because 
he  lived  ;  in  all  humility  that  we  are  better  because  his  life 
touched  ours.  And  because  this  is  true  our  children  and 
our  fellow  men  shall  be  made  happier  and  better;  and  so 
the  echoes  of  his  soul,  reduplicated  in  ten  thousand  hearts, 
shall  abide,  a  gladdening  and  beneficent  force — 

Until  the  stars  grow  old, 
And  the  suns  grow  cold, 
And  the  leaves  of  the  judgment  book  unfold ! 


SPEECH   OF  JUDGE   HOWARD  VAN   EPPS. 

Ladies   and  Gentlemen:    The  lightning  brought  this 
message  to  Atlanta : 

"  Henry  Grady  spends  Christmas  in  heaven." 
Who  doubts  it  ?  What  creature  whom  the  Creator  has 
loved  enough  to  suffer  him  to  hold  a  Christian's  faith  will 
question  that  he  is  at  this  moment  in  company  with  the 
good  and  great  and  virtuous  who  have  preceded  him'  I 
looked  upon  his  face,  the  pitif ulness  of  death  sealed  upon 
it,  and  as  I  turned  away  with  swimming  eyes,  I  saw  hidden 
in  a  mass  of  flowers  that  loving  hands  had  placed  by  his 

side,  these  words : 

O,  stainless  gentleman ! 

True  man,  true  hero,  true  philanthropist! 

Thy  name  was  "  Great  Heart,"  honor  was  thy  shield, 

Thy  golden  motto,  "Duty  without  fear!  " 

And  the  fragrant  breath  around  him  seemed  vocal  with 
triumphant  voices,  singing,  '* Reward  without  stint !  "     In 


370  HENRY    W.    GRADY, 

Athens,  the  home  of  his  boyhood,  a  few  months  ago,  he 
said,  "  I  am  going  to  Sunday-school.  I  want  to  feel  that  I 
am  a  boy  again."  When  seated  there  the  children  sang, 
V  Shall  we  gather  at  the  river  ?"  and  he  sank  his  face  in 
both  his  hands,  and  tears  flooded  through  his  fingers.  O, 
"  Great  Heart,"  we  know  that  when  your  eyes  closed  upon 
the  weariness  of  the  terrestrial,  they  opened  fearless  upon 
the  glories  o'f  the  celestial.  I  fancy  Mr.  Hill  sought  him 
without  delay,  fixing  upon  him  the  earnest,  penetrating 
glance  we  know  so  well,  but  out  of  which  the  pained  seri- 
ousness has  been  washed  away  forever,  exclaiming, 
"Why,  Henry!  You?  And  so  soon!  Welcome  home 
to  our  Father's  house!"  Judge  Lochrane  has  doubtless 
already  repaired  to  his  side  and  regaled  him  with  a  bit  of 
celestial  humor  that  set  the  seraphs  ashout  with  laughter. 
Perhaps  he  has  encountered  by  this  time  Mr.  Lincoln  and 
Mr.  Davis  with  arms  interlocked,  their  differences  all 
adjusted,  in  wider  wisdom,  and  has  been  startled  to  hear 
them  say:  "We  were  but  just  now  speaking  of  you  and 
of  the  future  destiny  of  the  American  Republic.  Mr.  Lin- 
coln had  just  remarked  that  the  United  States  were  on  the 
threshold  of  a  more  cordial  understanding  and  a  closer 
union  than  ever  before,  and  Mr.  Davis  has  just  quoted  your 
prophetic  invocation  :  '  Let  us  resolve  to  crown  the  mira- 
cles of  the  past  with  the  spectacle  of  a  Republic  compact, 
united,  indissoluble  in  the  bonds  of  love — loving  from  the 
Lakes  to  the  Gulf — the  wounds  of  war  healed  in  every  heart 
as  on  every  hill — serene  and  resplendent  at  the  summit  of 
human  achievement  and  earthly  glory — blazing  out  the 
path,  and  making  clear  the  way,  up  which  all  the  nations 
of  the  earth  must  come  in  God's  appointed  time  ! ' 

Oh,  that  he  who  alone  knew  how  to  describe  "a  perfect 
Christmas  day,"  could  come  back  to  his  beloved  Atlanta 
and  make  it  all  clear  to  us — the  recognitions,  the  employ- 
ments, the  conversations,  the  blessedness  of  the  redeemed. 
What  sort  of  goblet  of  immortal  nectar — of  commingled 
"musk  of  yellow  grain,  of  flavor  of  ripening  fruits,  fra- 
grance of  strawberries,  exquisite  odor  of  violets,  aroma  of 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND  SPEECHES.  371 

all  seasons"  of  the  celestial  year,  did  the  angels  brew  out 
of  the  material  of  yesterday  to  pledge  the  never-ending  fel- 
lowships of  Heaven  in  ?  What  sort  of  hug  of  odorous  shine 
did  Henry  get  armsful  of  yesterday,  when  he  flung  his 
hands  wide  apart  in  the  presence  of  that  Being  whom  he 
was  wont  to  call  always  in  his  reverent  speech  "the  Lord 
God  Almighty." 

Oh,  well  enough  for  Henry  !  but  for  us  only  the  pain  of 
it  all,  the  bitter  pain.  I  look  abroad  and  Atlanta's  busi- 
ness men  seem  grown  suddenly  older.  The  cry  of  tlie 
newsboys — "  Paper,  sir  ? "  —is  almost  a  sob.  I  went  hit*-  at 
night  into  the  Constitution  building  and  the  editors'  faces 
were  graver  than  they  should  be,  and  the  composing-room 
was  heavy  with  suggestions  of  widowhood  and  orphanage. 

I  went  into  a  store  Christmas  eve  (for  Henry  would 
not  have  the  children  neglected)  and  the  merchant  couldn't 
find  anything  he  sought  for,  and  said,  apologetically,  "I 
haven't  had  any  sense  to-day."  The  pity  of  it !  We  are 
bereft.'  Our  city  is  desolate.  We  had  some  great  public 
enterprises  in  view,  that  is,  Henry  had,  and  we  were  going 
to  follow  him,  and  overwork  him,  as  usual. 

We  are  disheartened — almost  discouraged.  Atlanta  is 
so  young  and  fiery,  almost  fierce  in  her  civic  energy,  and 
pulls  so  hard  on  the  reins.  Who  will  drive  for  us  now  ? 

We  will  see  more  clearly  after  a  little,  when  our  grief 
is  calmer,  but  now  as  we  see  it  through  our  tears,  the  face 
and  body  of  the  times  are  out  of  joint. 

I  do  not  care,  in  this  place  and  under  present  limita- 
tions, to  speak  of  his  kittenish  boyhood;  of  his  idj-llic 
home-life  ;  of  his  rollicsome  and  irresistible  humor  ;  of  his 
sympathy  and  prodigality  of  self-sacrifice  ;  of  his  boundless 
love  to  his  fellow  men  ;  of  his  ability  as  a  writer  and  sup»T- 
eminence  as  an  orator  ;  of  his  pride  in  Atlanta  and  services 
in  aid  of  her  material  progress  ;  of  his  patriotic  devotion  to 
the  South  and  to  the  Union.  I  want  to  ask  indulgence  to 
say  one  thing,  which,  as  I  believe,  were  he  here  to  prescribe 
my  course  and  dictate  my  utterances,  he  would  have  me 
say.  I  want  to  say  to  noble  men  of  all  parties,  north  and 


372  HENRY  w.  GRADY, 

east  and  west,  speaking  here  from  Grady's  bier,  that  the 
South  is  no  more  hostile  to  the  Union  than  is  New 
England,  and  that  her  love,  and  sympathy,  and  desire  to 
help  the  dependent  class  in  her  midst  is  deeper,  if  possible, 
than  the  treason  of  political  agitators  who  seek  to  foment 
race  prejudice  to  secure  party  supremacy.  "  We  pledge 
our  lives,  our  property,  and  our  sacred  honor,"  that  we 
will  bring  wisdom  and  humanity  to  the  solution  of  the 
grave  problem  in  government  which  confronts  us,  and  that 
we  "will  carry  in  honor  and  peace  to  the  end."  We 
repeat  again  and  again,  in  our  sadness,  with  the  sacred- 
ness  of  our  grief  for  his  loss  around  us,  the  plea  of 
Georgia's  son,  for  patience,  for  confidence,  for  sympathy, 
for  loyalty  to  the  Republic,  devoid  of  suspicion  and 
estrangement,  against  any  section. 

We  send  greeting  to  generous  New  England.  They 
loved  him  and  we  love  them  for  it.  We  have  even  forgiven 
them  for  being  Republicans.  We  throw  his  knightly 
and  Christian  gauntlet  at  their  feet.  We  challenge  her 
business  men.  in  the  name  of  our  champion  of  the  doctrine 
of  the  brotherhood  of  men  and  of  Americans,  to  the  national 
glory-fields  of  the  future — to  fraternal  love  that  will  forgive 
errors  of  judgment  seven  times,  and  seventy  times  seven ; 
and  to  a  patriotic  pride  in  and  devotion  to  every  foot  of  the 
soil  of  our  magnificent  Republic,  that  will  brook  no  sus- 
picions and  no  wrath  in  all  her  borders  except  when 
directed  against  a  foreign  enemy. 

Professor  White's  address  was  delivered  under  very 
trying  conditions.  He  had  been  suffering  from  a  severe 
headache  all  morning  and,  in  fact,  he  has  been  unwell  for 
several  days  past.  During  his  speech  he  suffered  painfully, 
and  immediately  at  its  conclusion  he  was  so  much  over- 
come as  to  be  almost  completely  prostrated.  He  was  led 
from  the  stage  to  the  office  of  Judge  Will  Haight,  where 
he  remained  until  he  recovered,  leaving  for  home  later  in 
the  afternoon. 

The  address  was  delivered  with  pathos  and  emotion, 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND    SPEECHES.  373 

and  that  part  which  bore  on  his  close  relations  with  the 
dead  man  touched  a  responsive  chord  in  every  heart  in  the 
vast  audience  that  sat  in  listening  attention  to  the  words  of 
love. 

REMARKS  OF  PROF.  H.  C.  WHITE. 

My  friends — companions  in  a  common  grief  :  My  heart 
is  yet  too  full  of  sorrow's  bitterness  to  frame  in  fitting 
terms  the  tribute  I  would  wish  to  pay  the  gracious  memory 
of  our  beloved  dead.  Save  she  who  bears  my  name,  he 
whom  we  buried  yesterday  was  my  dearest  friend  on  earth. 
Our  friendship,  born  of  close  companionship  amid  academic 
groves  where  we  together  caught  the  inspirations  that  come 
to  wakening  intellects,  and  nursed  the  high  resolves  that 
budding  youth  projects  as  guides  along  the  future  pathway 
of  the  man,  was  nourished  as  we  grew  to  man's  estate,  and 
in  these  latter  years  so  closely  knit  by  constant  intercourse, 
reciprocal  respect  each  for  the  other's  judgment,  wishes 
and  desires,  and  mutual  confidences  of  hopes  and  fears,  of 
sacred  interests  and  fond  ambitions,  that  when  he  died  a 
great  and  fervent  glow  seemed  gone  from  out  of  my  life,  and 
desolation  laid  its  icy  touch  upon  my  heart. 

In  recognition  of  these  sacred  ties  that  closely  bound 
our  lives,  I  am  bidden  here  to-day  to  join  my  grief  to  yours 
and  say  a  word  of  him  who  was  as  dear  to  me  as  man  may 
be  to  man. 

How  can  I  speak  at  Henry  Grady's  funeral !  What  may 
I  say  that  others  have  not  said  ;  that  will  not,  in  our  his- 
tory, be  written  ;  for  a  Nation  mourns  him  and  a  continent 
deplores  his  untimely  taking  off,  as  the  passing  of  the 
brightest  hope  that  cheered  the  future  of  our  common 
country's  rehabilitated  life. 

That  he  was  worthy  all  the  homage  cultured  men  may 
pay  to  genius,  talent,  intellect,  and  wit,  his  works  and 
reputation  that  survive  beyond  the  grave  will  abundantly 
attest.  That  he  was  worthy  all  the  plaudits  honest  men 
accord  to  truth  and  justness,  integrity  and  honor,  none 
dare  stand  here  and  interpose  the  faintest  shadow  of  a 


HENRY    W.    GRADY, 

doubt.  That  he  was  worthy  all  the  sacred  tears  that  gentle 
women  and  blessed  little  children  may  not  refrain  from 
showering  on  his  grave  as  tribute  to  his  tenderness,  his 
gentleness,  his  abounding  love  for  all  things  human,  we, 
who  knew  him  best,  who  shared  the  golden  flood  of  sun- 
shine his  personality  evoked  and  the  sweetest,  softest 
harmonies  of  the  music  of  his  life,  we  come,  a  cloud  of 
witnesses,  to  testify. 

He  was  truly  great  if  earthly  greatness  may  be  measured 
by  the  lofty  aspirations  men  conceive  for  bettering  their 
fellow  men's  estate,  or  by  the  success  with  which  they  realize 
ideals.  His  ambition  was  of  the  sort  that  makes  men 
kings — not  petty  officers — and  led  him  to  aim  to  teach  a 
mighty  Nation  how  best  its  glorious  destiny  might  be 
achieved.  His  ample  view  looked  far  beyond  the  narrow 
policies  of  strife  and  selfishness  and  partisan  contentions 
that  mark  the  statesmanship  of  lesser  men,  and  counseled 
the  broader,  more  effective  lines  of  peace  and  love,  of 
patience  and  forbearance.  Had  he  but  lived  who  may 
doubt  but  that  his  counsels  would  have  prevailed  ?  This 
city,  which  he  loved  so  well  and  which  he  builded,  stands, 
in  its  fair  proportions,  the  peer  of  any  on  the  earth  in  good 
and  equitable  government,  the  prosperous  home  of  happy, 
cultured  freemen,  as  a  type  of  what  he  wished  his  neigh- 
bors and  his  fellow-countrymen  might  strive  to  make 
themselves  in  contrast  with  their  fellow  men  ;  worthy  to 
stand  among  the  bravest  and  the  best.  Its  massive  walls 
stand  witness  to  his  energy,  his  skill  and  his  success. 

He  was  wise,  and  thousands  came  to  him  for  counsel. 
The  University — his  loved  and  loving  Alma  Mater — whose 
smiles  had  brightened  the  endeavors  of  his  youth,  called 
him  to  her  councils  in  his  maturer  years,  and  to-day  she 
sits  upon  her  classic  hills,  a  Niobe,  in  tears  and  clad  in 
mourning  for  him — cliiefest  among  her  brilliant  sons  ;  fore- 
most among  her  guardians  and  advisers. 

He  was  good  ;  and  for  all  the  thousand  chords  of  human 
emotions  he  played  upon  with  facile  pen  and  tongue  of 
matchless  eloquence,  he  ever  held  a  heart  in  tender  sym- 


HIS   LIFE,    WinilXCS,    AND   SPEECHES.  375 

pathy  with  childhood's  innocence,  the  mother's  love,  the 
lover's  passion,  the  maiden's  modesty,  the  sinner's  penitence 
and  the  Christian's  faith. 

One  consolation  comes  to  us,  his  sorrowing  friends  to- 
day. Around  his  bier  no  fierce  contentions  wage  unseemly 
strife  for  offices  left  vacant  by  his  death.  He  held  no  place, 
that  may  be  filled  by  gift  of  man.  He  filled  no  office  within 
the  power  of  governments  or  peoples  to  bestow.  He  served 
the  public  but  was  no  public  servant.  He  was  a  private 
citizen  and  occupied  a  unique  position  in  the  common- 
wealth, exalted  beyond  the  meed  of  patronage,  won  by  vir- 
tue of  his  individual  qualities  and  held  at  pleasure  of  his 
genius  and  by  the  grace  of  God. 

Full  well  I  know  that,  in  God's  providence,  no  one 
man's  death  may  halt  the  march  of  time  to  ultimate  events 
or  change  the  increasing  purpose  that  through  the  ages 
runs,  but  this  I  do  believe,  that  this  man's  death  has  slowed 
the  dial  of  our  country's  progress  to  full  fruition  of  its 
happiness,  prosperity,  and  peace.  To  those  of  us  who 
stand  in  history  midway  between  a  national  life  our  fathers 
founded  and  wrecked  in  throes  of  revolution  and  of  war. 
and  another  in  the  future,  bright  with  fair  promises  but 
ill-defined  as  yet  in  form,  with  darkling  clouds  casting  grim 
shadows  across  the  lines  along  which  it  must  be  achieved, 
he  was  our  chosen  leader  and  our  trusted  champion.  No 
one  of  us  will  be  tardy  in  acknowledgment  that  he  stood 
head  and  shoulders  above  us  all  and  towered  at  the  very 
front.  That  time  will  bring  a  successor  in  the  leaders! iip 
we  reverently  pray  and  confidently  hope,  but  meanwhile 
our  generation  is  camped  in  bivouac  by  the  path  of  history 
awaiting  the  birth  and  training  of  another  chief. 

Of  all  his  usefulness  to  nation,  state  and  town  ;  of  ;ill 
that  he  contributed  to  the  glory  of  our  country's  history— 
the  brave  defense  of  its  unsullied  past ;  the  wise  direction 
of  its  present  purposes  ;  the  high  ideals  of  its  future  pro- 
gress— of  these,  others  with  equal  knowledge,  may  speak 
with  greater  eloquence  than  I.  I  come  especially  to  pay  a 
simple  tribute  (time  and  occasion  serve  for  nothing  more) 


370  JIKNKY    W.    GKADY, 

to  the  man  himself — my  boyhood's,  manhood's  companion, 
friend  and  lover.  When  on  the  day  he  died  I  nursed  my 
selfish  grief  within  the  sacred  precincts  of  a  home  which  he 
had  often  beautified  and  rendered  joyous  by  his  presence  ; 
in  the  city  of  his  birth,  among  the  lanes  his  boyish  feet  had 
trod  ;  amid  scenes  where  his  genius  had  first  been  plumed 
to  flight ;  where  he  had  felt  the  first  touch  of  manhood's 
aspirations  and  ambitions  ;  where  he  had  pressed  his  maiden 
suit  of  sacred  love  ;  where  his  dead  hero-father  lay  at  rest, 
and  where  the  monumental  shaft  is  reared  to  the  base  of 
which  it  was  his  ardent  hope  that  he  might  bring  his  son  to 
anoint  him  with  the  glories  and  the  graces  of  a  hero  race— 
I  thought  no  other's  sorrow  could  be  as  keen  as  mine.  But 
lo  !  my  neighbors  shared  an  universal  grief  and  draped 
their  homes  with  sable  tokens  of  their  mourning  hearts  ; 
the  very  children  in  the  streets  stopped  in  their  Christmas 
play  and  spoke  in  whispers  as  in  the  presence  of  a  dread 
calamity  ;  and  here,  I  find  myself  but  one  among  a  multi- 
tude to  whom  that  great  and  noble  heart  had  given  of  its 
gracious  bounty  and  drawn  them  to  himself  by  bonds  of 
everlasting  love  that  caused  their  tears  to  flow  as  freely  as 
my  own,  in  tribute  to  the  sweetness,  gentleness,  magnetic 
joyousness  of  him  that  we  have  lost. 

He  was  the  very  embodiment  of  love.  A  loving  man  ;  a 
man  most  lovable.  Affection  for  his  fellows  welled  from 
out  his  heart  and  overwhelmed  in  copious  flood  all  brought 
within  its  touch.  His  love  inspired  counter-love  in  men  of 
all  degree.  The  aged  marked  his  coming  with  a  brighten- 
ing smile ;  the  young  fell  down  and  worshiped  him. 
Unselfishness,  the  chiefest  virtue  men  may  claim — it  carries 
all  the  others  in  its  train — was  possessed  by  him  in  unsur- 
passed degree.  His  generosity  passed  quick  and  far  beyond 
the  lines  marked  out  by  charity  and  overflowed  the  limits 
fixed  by  prudence.  In  fine,  the  gentler  graces  all  were 
his: 

His  gentleness,  his  tenderness,  his  fair  courtesy, 
Were  like  a  ring  of  virtues  'bout  him  set, 

And  God-like  charity  the  center  where  all  met. 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  377 

* 

Science  and  religion  alike  declare  that  force  is  inde- 
structible. Some  catch  from  one  and  some  the  other  the 
inspiration  that  gives  them  faith  and  blessed  hope  that  that 
great  thing  we  call  the  Soul  may  live  and  work  beyond  that 
accident  which  we  call  Death,  which  comes  with  all  the 
terrors  of  unfathomable  mystery  to  free  the  fretting  spirit 
from  its  carnal  chains. 

He  had  no  special  knowledge— nor  cared  for  none — of 
scientific  theory  or  philosophic  speculation,  but  he  had 
gained  from  deep  religious  thought — not  technical  theology 
perhaps,  but  true  religion,  the  same  that  taught  him  to 
"  visit  the  widows  and  fatherless  in  their  affliction  and  to 
keep  himself  unspotted  from  the  world"— he  had  gained 
from  this  a  deep,  abiding  conviction  in  a  life  beyond  the 
grave.  That  this  was  true  I  know ;  for  often  we  have 
talked  of  these  great  mysteries  and,  closeted  together,  have 
weighed  the  doubts  the  increasing  knowledge  of  the  cen- 
turies has  brought,  and  I  have  never  known  a  man  whose 
convictions  were  as  firm,  and  who,  frankly  and  squarely 
meeting  every  doubt,  retained  unshaken  faith  with  all  his 
heart,  soul  and  mind. 

He  held  it  truth  with  him  who  sings, 
To  one  clear  harp  in  divers  tones, 
That  men  must  rise  on  stepping-stones 
Of  their  dead  selves  to  higher  thiiigs. 

How  far  this  faith  held  him  in  loyalty  to  churchly 
creed — the  necessary  corollary  of  such  faith  as  his— others 
are  more  competent  than  I  to  tell. 

Great  Spirit — that  which  was  loose  but  yesterday  from 
mortal  tenement  we  sadly  laid  to  rest — thy  sorrowing 
friends  send  after  thee,  along  the  shimmering  lines  that 
guide  thy  flight  from  earth  to  glory,  this  fervent  prayer- 
tempering  our  agony  and  comforting  our  desolation — that 
God,  in  His  infinite  wisdom,  may  count  thy  faith  deserving 
such  reward  in  Heaven  as  we  would  measure  to  thy  works 
on  earth. 

God  rest  thee,  princely  gentlemen !  God  keep  thee, 
peerless  friend  ! 


378  HENRY   W.    GRADY, 

When  Mr.  Graves  was  introduced,  the  audience  broke 
into  applause.  His  fame  as  an  orator,  and  his  intimate 
friendship  with  Mr.  Grady  were  known,  and  his  eloquent 
tribute  to  his  dead  friend  moved  the  hearts  of  his  hearers 
as  they  had  seldom  by  words  been  moved  before.  Upon 
being  introduced  by  Mayor  Glenn,  Mr  Graves  said : 

SPEECH   OF  HON.    JOHN   TEMPLE   GRAVES. 

I  am  one  among  the  thousands  who  loved  him,  and  I 
stand  with  the  millions  who  lament  his  death. 

I  loved  him  in  the  promise  of  his  glowing  youth,  when, 
across  my  boyish  vision  he  walked  with  winning  grace,  from 
easy  eifort  to  success.  I  loved  him  in  the  flush  of  splendid 
manhood  when  a  Nation  hung  upon  his  words — and  now, 
with  the  dross  of  human  friendship  smitten  in  my  soul — I 
love  him  best  of  all  as  he  lies  yonder  under  the  December 
skies,  with  face  as  tranquil  and  with  smile  as  sweet  as 
patrial  ever  wore. 

In  this  sweet  and  solemn  hour  all  the  rare  and  kindly 
adjectives  that  blossomed  in  the  shining  pathway  of  his  pen, 
seem  to  have  come  from  every  quarter  of  the  continent  to 
lay  themselves  in  loving  tribute  at  their  master's  feet ;  but 
rich  as  the  music  that  they  bring,  all  the  cadences  of  our 
eulogy 

Sigh  for  the  touch  of  a  vanished  hand, 
And  the  sound  of  a  voice  that  is  still. 

And  here  to-day,  within  this  hall  glorified  by  the  echoes 
of  his  eloquence,  standing  to  answer  the  impulse  of  my 
heart  in  the  roll-call  of  his  friends,  and  stricken  with  my 
emptiness  of  words,  I  know  that,  when  the  finger  of  God 
touched  his  eyelids  into  sleep,  there  gathered  u  silence 
upon  the  only  lips  that  could  weave  the  sunbright  story 
of  his  days,  or  mete  sufficient  eulogy  to  the  incomparable 
richness  of  his  life. 

I  agree  with  Patrick  Collins  that  he  was  the  most  bril- 
liant son  of  this  Republic.  If  the  annals  of  these  times  are 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND    SPKI -.<  Ill •;>.  379 

told  with  truth,  they  will  give  him  place  as  the  phenomenon 
of  his  period,  the  Admirable  Crichton  of  the  age  in  which 
he  lived.  No  eloquence  has  equaled  his  since  Sargent 
Prentiss  faded  from  the  earth.  No  pen  has  plowed  such 
noble  furrow  in  his  country's  fallow  fields  since  the  wri>t 
of  Horace  Greeley  rested;  no  age  of  the  Republic  has  wit- 
nessed such  marvelous  conjunction  of  a  magical  pen  with 
the  velvet  splendor  of  a  mellow  tonte;;e,  and  although  the 
warlike  rival  of  these  wondrous  forces  never  rose  within 
his  life,  it  is  writ  of  all  his  living,  that  the  noble  tires  of  his 
genius  were  lighted  in  his  boyhood  from  the  gleam  that 
died  upon  his  father's  sword. 

I  have  loved  to  follow,  and  I  love  to  follow  now  the 
pathway  of  that  diamond  pen  as  it  flashed  like  an  inspira- 
tion over  every  phase  of  life  in  Georgia.  It  touched  the 
sick  body  of  a  desolate  and  despairing  agriculture  with  the 
impulse  of  a  better  method,  arid  the  farmer,  catching  the 
glow  of  promise  in  his  words,  left  off  sighing  and  went  to 
singing  in  his  fields,  until  at  last  the  better  day  has  come, 
and  as  the  sunshine  melts  into  his  harvests  with  the  tender 
rain,  the  heart  of  humanity  is  glad  in  his  hope  and  the 
glow  on  his  fields  seems  the  smile  of  the  Lord.  Its  brave 
point  went  with  cheerful  prophecy  and  engaging  manliness 
into  the  ranks  of  toil,  until  the  workman  at  his  anvil  felt 
the  dignity  of  labor  pulse  the  somber  routine  of  the  hours, 
and  the  curse  of  Adam  softening  in  the  faith  of  silver  sen- 
tences, became  the  blessing  and  the  comfort  of  his  days. 
Into  the  era  of  practical  politics  it  dashed  with  the  grace 
of  an  earlier  chivalry,  and  in  an  age  of  pushing  and  un- 
seemly scramble,  it  woke  the  spirit  of  a  loftier  sentiment, 
while  around  the  glow  of  splendid  narrative  and  the  charm 
of  entrancing  plea  there  grew  a  goodlier  con ipany  of  youth, 
linked  to  the  Republic's  nobler  legends  and  holding  fast 
that  generous  loyalty  which  builds  the  highest  bulwark  of 
the  State. 

First  of  all  the  instruments  which  fitted  his  genius  to 
expression  was  this  radiant  pen.     Long  after  it  had 
his  way  to  eminence  and  usefulness,  he  waked  the 


380  HENRY    W.    GRADY, 

of  that  surpassing  oratory  which  has  bettered  all  the  sen- 
timent of  his  country  and  enriched  the  ripe  vocabulary  of 
the  world.  Nothing  in  the  history  of  human  speech  will 
equal  the  stately  steppings  of  his  eloquence  into  glory.  In 
a  single  night  he  caught  the  heart  of  the  country  into  its 
warm  embrace,  and  leaped  from  a  banquet  revelry  into 
national  fame.  It  is,  at  last,  the  crowning  evidence  of  his 
genius,  that  he  held  to  the  end,  unbroken,  the  high  fame 
so  easily  won,  and  sweeping  from  triumph  unto  triumph, 
with  not  one  leaf  of  his  laurels  withered  by  time  or  staled 
by  circumstance,  died  on  yesterday — the  foremost  orator 
of  all  the  world. 

It  is  marvelous,  past  all  telling  how  he  caught  the  heart 
of  the  country  in  the  fervid  glow  of  his  own!  All  the 
forces  of  our  statesmanship  have  not  prevailed  for  union 
like  the  ringing  speeches  of  this  bright,  magnetic  man. 
His  eloquence  was  the  electric  current  over  which  the  posi- 
tive and  negative  poles  of  American  sentiment  were  rush- 
ing to  a  warm  embrace.  It  was  the  transparent  medium 
through  which  the  bleared  eyes  of  sections  were  learning 
to  see  each  other  clearer  and  to  love  each  other  better.  He 
was  melting  bitterness  in  the  warmth  of  his  patrial  sympa- 
thies, sections  were  being  linked  in  the  logic  of  his  liquid 
sentences,  and  when  he  died  he  was  literally  loving  a 
Nation  into  peace. 

Fit  and  dramatic  climax  to  a  glorious  mission,  that  he 
should  have  lived  to  carry  the  South's  last  and  greatest 
message  to  the  center  of  the  Nation's  culture,  and  then, 
with  the  gracious  answer  to  his  transcendent  service  locked 
in  his  loyal  heart,  come  home  to  die  among  the  people 
he  had  served  !  Fitter  still,  that,  as  he  walked  in  final 
triumph  through  the  streets  of  his  beloved  city,  he  should 
have  caught  upon  his  kingly  head  that  wreath  of  Southern 
roses — richer  jewels  than  Victoria  wears — plucked  by  the 
hands  of  Georgia  women,  borne  by  the  hands  of  Georgia 
men,  and  flung  about  him  with  a  loving  tenderness 
that  crowned  him  for  his  burial,  that,  in  the  unspeak- 
able fragrance  of  Georgia's  full  and  sweet  approval, 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  381 

he  might  '"'draw  the  drapery  of  his  couch  about  him,  and 
lie  down  to  pleasant  dreams." 

If  I  should  seek  to  touch  the  core  of  all  his  greatness,  I 
would  lay  my  hand  upon  his  heart.  I  should  speak  of  his 
humanity — his  almost  inspired  sympathies,  his  sweet 
philanthropy  and  the  noble  heartfulness  that  ran  like  a 
silver  current  through  his  life.  His  heart  was  the  furnace 
where  he  fashioned  all  his  glowing  speech.  Love  was  the 
current  that  sent  his  golden  sentences  pulsing  through  the 
world,  and  in  the  honest  throb  of  human  sympathies  he 
found  the  anchor  that  held  him  steadfast  to  all  things 
great  and  true.  He  was  the  incarnate  triumph  of  a  heart- 
ful  man. 

I  thank  God,  as  I  stand  above  my  buried  friend,  that 
there  is  not  one  ignoble  memory  in  all  the  shining  pathway 
of  his  fame !  In  all  the  glorious  gifts  that  God  Almighty 
gaVe  him,  not  one  was  ever  bent  to  willing  service  in 
unworthy  cause.  He  lived  to  make  the  world  about  him 
better.  With  all  his  splendid  might  he  helped  to  build  a 
happier,  heartier,,  and  more  wholesome  sentiment  among 
his  kind.  And  in  fondness,  mixed  with  reverence,  I  believe 
that  the  Christ  of  Calvary,  who  died  for  men,  has  found  a 
welcome  sweet  for  one  who  fleshed  within  his  person  the 
golden  spirit  of  the  New  Commandment  and  spent  his 
powers  in  glorious  living  for  his  race. 

O  brilliant  and  incomparable  Grady !  We  lay  for  a 
season  thy  precious  dust  beneath  the  soil  that  bore  and 
cherished  thee,  but  we  fling  back  against  all  our  brighten- 
ing skies  the  thoughtless  speech  that  calls  thee  dead ! 
God  reigns  and  his  purpose  lives,  and  although  these  brave 
lips  are  silent  here,  the  seeds  sown  in  this  incarnate 
eloquence  will  sprinkle  patriots  through  the  years  to  coin.-. 
and  perpetuate  thy  living  in  a  race  of  nobler  men  ! 

But  all  our  words  are  empty,  and  they  mock  the  air. 
If  we  would  speak  the  eulogy  that  fills  this  day,  let  us 
build  within  this  city  that  he  loved,  a  monument  tall  as 
his  services,  and  noble  as  the  place  he  filled.  Let  every 
Georgian  lend  a  hand,  and  as  it  rises  to  confront  in  majesty 


382  IIKNUY    W.    GRADY, 

his  darkened  home,  let  the  widow  who  weeps  there  be  told 
that  every  stone  that  makes  it  has  been  sawn  from  the  solid 
prosperity  that  he  builded,  and  that  the  light  which  plays 
upon  its  summit  is,,  in  afterglow,  the  sunshine  that  he 
brought  into  the  world. 

And  for  the  rest — silence.  The  sweetest  thing  about  his 
funeral  was*  that  no  sound  broke  the  stillness,  save  the 
reading  of  the  Scriptures  and  the  melody  of  music.  No 
fire  that  can  be  kindled  upon  the  altar  of  speech  can  relume 
the  radiant  spark  that  perished  yesterday.  No  blaze  born 
in  all  our  eulogy  can  burn  beside  the  sunlight  of  his  use- 
ful life.  After  all  there  is  nothing  grander  than  such 
living. 

I  have  seen  the  light  that  gleamed  at  midnight  from  the 
headlight  of  some  giant  engine  rushing  onward  through  the 
darkness,  heedless  of  opposition,  fearless  of  danger,  and  I 
thought  it  was  grand.  I  have  seen  the  light  come  over  the 
eastern  hills  in  glory,  driving  the  lazy  darkness  like  mist 
before  a  sea-born  gale,  till  leaf  and  tree,  and  blade  of  grass 
glittered  in  the  myriad  diamonds  of  the  morning  ray  ;  and 
I  thought  it  was  grand. 

I  have  seen  the  light  that  leaped  at  midnight  athwart 
the  storm-swept  sky,  shivering  over  chaotic  clouds,  mid 
howling  winds,  till  cloud  and  darkness  and  the  shadow- 
haunted  earth  flashed  into  mid-day  splendor,  and  I  knew 
it  was  grand.  But  the  grandest  thing,  next  to  the  radiance 
that  flows  from  the  Almighty  Throne,  is  the  light  of  a 
noble  and  beautiful  life,  wrapping  itself  in  benediction 
'round  the  destinies  of  men,  and  finding  its  home  in  the 
blessed  bosom  of  the  Everlasting  God ! 

SPEECH    OF   GOVERNOR  GORDON. 

Mr.  Chairman  and  Fellow-Citizens  :  The  news  of  Henry 
Grady's  death  reached  me  at  a  quiet  country  retreat  in  a 
distant  section  of  the  State.  The  grief  of  that  rural  com- 
munity, as  deep  and  sincere  as  the  shock  produced  by  his 
death  was  great  and  unexpected,  told  more  feelingly  and 
eloquently  than  any  words  of  mine  possibly  can,  the  uni- 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  383 

versality  of  the  love  and  admiration  of  all  her  people  for 
Georgia's  peerless  son. 

It  is  no  exaggeration  to  say  that  the  humblest  and  the 
highest,  the  poorest  and  richest — all  classes,  colors  and 
creeds,  with  an  unspeakable  sorrow,  mourn  his  death  as  a 
public  calamity.  It  is  no  exaggeration  to  say  that  no  man 
lives  who  can  take  his  place.  It  is  no  extravagant  eulogy 
to  declare  that  scarcely  any  half-dozen  men,  by  their  com- 
bined efforts,  can  fill  in  all  departments  the  places  which 
he  filled  in  his  laborious  and  glorious  life. 

His  wonderful  intellect,  enabling  him,  without  apparent 
effort,  to  master  the  most  difficult  and  obtuse  public  ques- 
tions, and  to  treat  them  with  matchless  grace  and  power  ; 
his  versatile  genius,  which  made  him  at  once  the  leader  in 
great  social  reforms,  as  well  as  in  gigantic  industrial  move- 
ments— that  genius  which  made  him  at  once  the  eloquent 
advocate,  the  logical  expounder,  the  wise  organizer,  the 
vigorous  executive— all  these  rich  and  unrivaled  endow- 
ments, justify  in  claiming  for  him  a  place  among  the  great- 
est and  most  gifted  of  this  or  any  age. 

But  splendid  as  were  his  intellectual  abilities,  it  is  the 
boundless  generosity  of  his  nature,  his  sweet  and  loving 
spirit,  his  considerate  and  tender  charity,  exhaustless  as  a 
fountain  of  living  waters,  refreshing  and  making  happy  all 
hearts  around  him,  these  are  the  characteristics  on  which 
I  love  most  to  dwell.  It  is  no  wonder  that  his  splendid 
genius  attracted  the  gaze  and  challenged  the  homage  of  the 
continent.  It  is  perhaps  even  a  less  wonder  that  a  man 
with  such  boundless  sympathies  for  his  fellow  men  and  so 
prodigal  with  his  own  time  and  talent  and  money  in  the 
service  of  the  public,  should  be  so  universally  and  tenderly 
loved. 

The  career  of  Henry  Grady  is  more  than  unique.  It 
constitutes  a  new  chapter  in  human  experience.  No  pri- 
vate citizen  in  the  whole  eventful  history  of  this  Republic 
ever  wore  a  chaplet  so  fadeless  or  linked  his  name  so  surely 
with  deathless  immortality.  His  name  as  a  journalist  and 
orator,  his  brilliant  and  useful  life,  his  final  crowning 


384  HENRY    W.    GRADY, 

triumph,  especially  the  circumstances  of  martyrdom  sur- 
rounding his  death,  making  it  like  that  of  the  giant  of 
holy  writ,  as  we  trust,  more  potential  than  ever  in  intel- 
lectual prowess  of  magic  of  the  living  man — all  these  will 
conspire  not  more  surely  to  carry  his  fame  to  posterity, 
than  will  his  deeds  of  charity  and  ready  responses  to  those 
who  needed  his  effective  help,  serve  to  endear  to  our  hearts 
and  memories,  as  long  as  life  shall  last,  the  memory  of 
Henry  W.  Grady. 

Governor  Gordon's  tribute  was  the  last  of  the  sad 
occasion. 

At  its  conclusion  Dr.  H.  C.  Morrison  pronounced  the 
benediction,  and  the  curtain  was  drawn  on  the  final  public 
exercises  of  the  most  memorable  funeral  service  the  South 
has  ever  known. 

But  the  memory  of  the  loved  and  illustrious  dead  will 
linger  long  with  his  bereaved  people. 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND    SPEECHES.  385 


MEMORIAL  MEETING  AT  MACON,  GA. 


A  GRADY  Memorial  Meeting  was  held  at  Macon,  Ga., 
J_\_  on  the  evening  of  Thursday,  December  26, 1889.  The 
Academy  of  Music  was  filled  with  an  assemblage  of  citizens 
of  all  classes.  The  meeting  was  called  to  order  by  Mr.  F. 
H.  Richardson,  and  the  exercises  were  opened  with  an 
impresive  prayer  by  Rev.  T.  R.  Kendall,  pastor  of  Mulberry 
Street  Church.  In  announcing  the  object  of  the  meeting. 
Mr.  Richardson,  who  presided,  said  : 

ADDRESS  OF  MR.  RICHARDSON. 

Fellow-Citizens :  We  have  assembled  to-night  to  honor 
the  memory  of  a  good  and  useful  man ;  to  express  our 
sincere  regrets  that  death  has  closed  a  high  career  in  the 
meridian  of  its  splendor  ;  to  voice  our  sympathy  with  the 
grief  which  this  public  loss  has  carried  to  every  part  of  our 
State. 

This  is  an  occasion  without  precedent  in  the  history  of 
Macon.  Never  before  have  its  people  given  such  tribute  to 
the  memory  of  a  private  citizen.  But  when  has  such  a 
private  citizen  lived,  when  has  such  a  one  died  in  Georgia  ? 
In  speaking  of  my  dear,  dead  friend  I  trust  I  do  not  pass 
the  bounds  of  exact  and  proper  statement  when  I  say  that 
there  was  not  within  the  limits  of  these  United  States  any 
man  unburdened  by  office,  unadorned  by  the  insignia 
of  triumphs  in  the  fields  of  war,  or  the  arena  of  politics, 
whose  death  would  have  been  so  generally  deplored  as  is 
that  of  Henry  W.  Grady.  It  will  be  our  privilege  and 
pleasure  to  hear  testimony  of  his  genius  and  his  virtues 
from  the  representatives  of  five  organizations  ;  tke  Press, 
the  Chamber  of  Commerce  of  Macon,  the  resident  alumni 


386  HENRY   W.    GRADY, 

of  the  State  University,  the  City  Government,  and  the  Chi 
Phi  Fraternity.  Each  of  these  has  good  reason  to  honor 
the  memory  of  Henry  Grady.  The  press  can  fashion  no 
eulogy  richer  than  his  desert,  for  his  was  the  most  illustri- 
ous pen  that  has  flashed  in  Southern  journalism  during 
this  generation.  The  Chamber  of  Commerce  cannot 
accord  him  too  much  praise,  for,  though  himself  unskilled 
in  the  science  of  trade,  he  was  the  chief  promoter  of 
public  enterprise  in  his  city  and  set  an  example  worthy 
the  emulation  of  any  man  whose  ambition  looks  to  the  pro- 
motion of  commercial  and  industrial  progress.  Surely  the 
Alumni  of  the  State  University  should  honor  him,  for  he 
was  the  most  famous  man  who  has  left  the  classic  halls  of 
Athens  in  many  a  year.  It  is  well  that  the  City  Govern- 
ment joins  in  this  general  tribute  to  the  lamented  dead. 
He  led  his  own  city  to  high  ideals  and  to  large  achieve- 
ments. He  preached  the  gospel  of  liberality  as  well  as  the 
creed  of  progress.  While  his  devotion  to  his  own  city  was 
supreme,  from  his  lips  there  fell  no  word  of  scorn  or  malice 
for  any  other  community.  Let  us  emulate  the  catholicity 
of  his  patriotism.  Atlanta  was  its  central  force  and  fire, 
but  it  extended  to  all  Georgia,  to  all  these  States  and, 
passing  beyond  the  boundaries  of  his  own  county,  was 
transformed  into  a  love  for  all  mankind.  The  Chi  Phi 
Fraternity  had  much  cause  to  love  Henry  Grady.  Only 
those  of  us  who  know  the  full  meaning  of  the  mystic  bonds 
of  that  brotherhood  can  appreciate  the  ardor  and  enthusi- 
asm of  his  devotion  to  it.  There  was  that  in  him  which 
was  nobler  and  worthier  of  commemoration  than  even  his 
radiant  genius.  Powerful  as  he  was  with  the  pen,  persua- 
sive as  he  was  in  his  masterful  control  of  the  witchery  of 
eloquence,  fascinating  as  was  his  personality,  he  had  a  still 
better  claim  to  honor  than  could  be  founded  on  these  dis- 
tinctions. After  all,  the  best  fame  is  that  which,  though 
not  sought,  is  won  by  goodness,  charity,  and  brotherly 
love.  Leigh  Hunt's  Abou  Ben  Adhem  is  lovelier  than  the 
mightiest  of  the  Moorish  Kings.  Henry  Grady  concerned 
himself  to  do  good  unto  others.  He  kindled  the  fire  on 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND  SPEECHES.  387 

cold  hearth  stones,  he  cared  for  the  sick  and  the  forsaken, 
he  visited  the  prisoner,  he  carried  consolation  to  the  deso- 
late. His  works  of  mercy,  tenderness,  and  love  do  live 
after  him,  and  they  are  the  crowning  beauty  of  his  work  in 
this  world.  The  tear  of  gratitude  that  trickles  down  the 
cheek  of  the  orphan  is  a  purer  jewel  than  ever  sparkled  in 
the  crown  of  political  fame.  The  simple  thanks  of  the 
friendless  and  oppressed  make  sweeter  music  to  the  soul 
than  the  applause  of  senates.  These  priceless  rewards  w»-re 
showered  upon  him  in  recognition  of  many  an  untold  deed 
of  charity  and  grace.  His  life  has  been  concluded  wli^n, 
according  to  human  wisdom,  it  seemed  most  desirable  that 
he  should  linger  among  the  walks  of  men.  Silence  has  set 
its  seal  on  his  eloquent  lips  when  their  words  seemed 
sweetest.  His  great,  tender  heart  has  been  hushed  forever, 
when  from  the  life  it  quickened  there  were  going  forth 
influences  of  large  and  increasing  beneficence. 

Capt.  J.  L.  HARDEMAN  was  then  introduced,  and  he 
read  the  following  resolutions  framed  by  the  committee 
from  the  meeting  of  the  various  bodies  held  last  Tuesday  : 

RESOLUTIONS. 

The  death  of  Henry  Grady  is  a  great  blow  to  the  hopes  of  the  South. 
He  had  become  one  of  the  foremost  men  of  the  day  in  her  behalf.  His 
leadership  was  as  unique  as  it  was  controlling.  He  held  no  office,  he 
sought  no  preferment,  and  yet  he  was  a  leader.  History  furnishes  but 
few  examples  like  this,  none  that  can  excel  him  in  the  sublime  useful- 
ness of  his  career.  His  patriotism  was  so  lofty  that  one  cannot  measure 
it  by  the  standards  of  the  hour.  His  soul  was  filled  to  running  over 
with  a  deep  love  for  his  people  and  the  sufferings  they  had  endured, 
and  those  to  which  fanaticism  might  expose  them.  This  love  was  his 
inspiration.  It  moved,  it  commanded  the  largest  exercise  of  his  versa- 
tile genius  under  an  infinite  variety  of  circumstances.  And  in  all  of 
these,  whether  as  ecfitor,  writer,  orator  or  citizen,  lie  buried  far  out  of 
sight  every  consideration  of  self  and  wrought  for  the  people's  good. 
And  his  work  was  on  a  plane  as  exalted  as  his  highest  aspirations.  No 
taint  of  gain  ever  touched  his  hand  ;  no  surrender  of  principle  ever 
marred  the  colors  of  the  banner  he  bore.  What  though,  in  a  passing 
moment  he  may  have  differed  with  others  upon  minor  matters,  yet  in 
all  the  great  and  burning  questions  which  so  vitally  concern  the  people 


388  IIKNKV  \v.  <;KADY, 

of  the  South  and  of  the  Union,  he  was  abreast  and  ahead  of  nearly  all 
others.  In  his  life  every  element  of  success  was  materialized,  an 
energy  as  untiring  as  the  tides  of  the  sea  ;  a  courage  like  the  eagle's 
that  gazes  with  eye  undirnmed  upon  the  glare  of  the  noonday  sun  ;  a 
genius  so  comprehensive  that  it  grasped  with  equal  facility  the  smallest 
detail  and  the  broadest  of  human  issues,  and  above  all,  a  patriotism 
pure,  heroic,  unsectional,  drawing  its  inspiration  from  the  sacred  foun- 
tain head  of  American  liberty,  and  spreading  its  benign  influence 
wherever  the  Constitution  is  obeyed  and  the  rights  of  mankind  re- 
spected. And  thus  he  worked  in  the  fore  front  till  death  overtook 
him.  In.  this  hour  of  mourning,  how  heavily  do  we  feel  his  loss.  The 
great  purpose  of  life  was  just  planned  out.  The  certainty  of  its  fulfill- 
ment could  rest  alone  with  him.  To  lead  his  people  onward  and  up- 
ward through  all  the  harassing  difficulties  which  beset  them  to  the  full 
fruition  of  constitutional  liberty  in  its  widest  meaning,  was  his  purpose. 
Not  alone  by  his  splendid  oratory  did  he  seek  to  attain  this  end  ;  to  this 
end  he  devoted  his  pen  as  an  editor,  and  to  this  end  he  also  devoted 
those  beautiful  traits  of  his  private  character,  which  made  him  loved 
by  all  who  knew  him.  His  unfinished  work  is  yet  to  be  accomplished. 
The  young  Moses  of  the  Southland  is  gone,  and  may  the  people  not 
wander  from  his  teachings.  The  people  of  Macon  assembled  to  do 
honor  to  the  illustrious  dead 

Resolve,  That  in  the  death  of  Henry  W.  Grady,  the  State  of  Georgia 
has  lost  one  of  her  noblest  sons,  the  Union  a  man  who  was  a  patriotic 
lover  of  constitutional  liberty. 

Resolve,  That  in  the  death  of  Henry  W.  Grady,  the  city  of  Atlanta 
has  been  deprived  of  a  noble,  energetic  and  unselfish  citizen,  who  was 
devoted  to  her  interests. 

Resolve,  That  we  tender  our  sympathies  as  a  people  to  the  family  of 
the  deceased,  and  that  a  copy  of  these  resolutions  be  forwarded  to 
them. 

JOHN  L.  HARDEMAN,       } 
W.  W.  COLLINS,  >•  Committee. 

•  WASHINGTON  DESSAU,    ) 

In  moving  the  adoption  of  the  resolutions,  he  said  : 
Mr.  Chairman  :  In  moving  the  adoption  of  this,  the 
report  of  your  committee,  I  can  but  say.  that  to-night 
emphasizes  the  words  of  Jerusalem's  King:  "A  good 
name  is  better  than  precious  ointment,  and  the  day  of 
death  than  the  day  of  one's  birth."  Death  came  to  him 
as  a  benediction  that  followed  a  sacrifice.  Warned  by  his 
physician  that  he  was  ill,  cavalier  of  the  South  alone  he 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  389 

marched  to  battle  for  her,  uninspired  by*  the  enthusiasm 
of  a  battle  array,  yet  within  cannon  shot  of  Bunker  Hill, 
and  where  he  could  feel  the  spray  from  Plymouth  Rock, 
he  fought  a  gallant  fight  for  us,  and  leaving  the  field  vic- 
tor, amidst  the  plaudits  of  those  he  had  conquered,  he 
hastened  home  to  complete  his  sacrifice ;  and  the  same 
angel  that  bade  him  leave  this  world  spoke  not  only  to  the 
soul  of  Henry  W.  Grady,  but  to  all  the  people  North  and 
South:  "Peace,  be  still." 

The  resolutions  were  unanimously  adopted  by  a  rising 
vote. 

Professor  G.  R.  GLENN  was  then  introduced  and  read 
the  following  preamble  and  resolution  on  the  part  of  the 
committee  of  alumni : 

ALUMNI  RESOLUTIONS. 

It  is  no  ordinary  occasion  that  calls  us  together.  That  was  no 
ordinary  light  that  went  out  in  the  gray  mists  of  early  dawn.  It  was 
no  ordinary  life  that  has  so  suddenly  and  so  strangely  come  down  to 
its  close.  To  those  of  us  who  were  University  students  with  him,  who 
knew  his  University  career,  the  story  of  his  splendid  accomplishments 
has  more  than  ordinary  significance,  and  the  heart-breaking  tragedy  of 
his  sudden  taking  off  a  profound  meaning. 

We  had  a  personal  sympathy  in  every  stride  of  his  struggling  man- 
hood :  we  carried  a  personal  pride  to  every  wonderful  achievement  of 
his  growing  genuis  :  we  hailed  with  fraternal  joy  every  popular  tri- 
umph of  his  intellectual  prowess ;  we  joined  in  every  glad  shout  that 
told  how  victoriously  his  unselfish  love  was  commanding  sway  over 
the  American  heart ;  and  when  he  is  stricken  down  we  bow  our  heads 
in  sorrow,  as  only  those  can  who  know  the  sources  from  which  he 
drew  the  inspirations  of  his  life. 

He  came  from  the  University  of  Georgia  in  those  palmy  days  from 
'66  to  '72,  when  Lipscomb  and  Mell  and  W.  L.  Brown  and  Waddell 
and  Rutherford  and  Charbonnier  and  Jones  and  Smead— names  that 
some  of  us  will  teach  our  boys  to  pronounce  tenderly  and  reverently — 
were  at  their  greatest  and  best.  In  this  company  gathered  here  are 
those  who  know  the  meaning  and  the  moulding  power  of  great  char- 
acter builders  like  these.  The  great  soul  of  the  venerable  Chan. 
Lipscomb,  that  grand  arch  priest  of  higher  learning,  made  its  impress 
on  the  soul  of  the  young  man  at  Athens.  Some  of  us  can  trace  that 
impress,  and  the  impress  of  the  University  of  those  days,  through  all 


390  HENRY    W.    GRADY, 

his  after  life  down  to  that  Boston  speech,  aye,  even  to  the  delirium  of 
that  last  sickness,  when  his  thought  was  for  others  rather  than  of 
himself. 

Moulded  to  be  generous,  broad-minded,  tolerant,  unselfish,  mag- 
nanimous, aspiring,  noble,  who  may  tell  us  what  climax  this  divinely 
gifted,  sunny  soul  might  not  have  reached  if  his  rich  and  kingly  life 
might  have  been  spared  to  his  race.  The  education  that  he  received 
was  an  evolution  of  the  best  and  most  royal  in  manhood.  It  was 
fashioned  on  this  pattern — the  germ  thoughts  of  his  life  took  root  in 
his  home  and  branched  out  to  his  friends,  overshadowed  this  city, 
sent  their  far-reaching  and  strengthening  arms  over  every  portion  of 
his  State,  and  then  towered  graudly  above  his  section.  Yea,  and  had 
began  to  bear  fruit  for  the  healing  of  the  nation,  when  alas,  alas,  an 
inscrutable  Providence  cuts  him  down.  But,  thank  God,  that  match- 
less tongue,  now  silent  forever,  was  not  hushed  till,  above  Atlanta, 
above  Georgia,  above  the  South,  above  the  whole  country,  the  undy- 
ing eloquence  of  that  Boston  speech  rose  in  majestic  waves  over  city, 
state,  section  and  country,  and  sent  the  far-thrilling  echoes  into  the 
eternal  depths  of  our  common  humanity.  There  it  is — from  his  home, 
through  the  university  life,  through  the  splendid  work  in  his  editorial 
chair,  on  the  rostrum,  in  every  forward  movement  of  his  soul  to 
that  last  grand  plea  to  the  national  heart,  and  down  into  the  delirium 
of  the  death  chamber,  it  is  the  evolution  of  the  noblest  and  the  best. 
The  heart  that  made  the  sunniest  home  in  Atlanta  warmed  everything 
it  touched,  from  the  son  of  the  Puritan  on  Plymouth  Rock,  to  the 
grey -haired  old  freedman  that  goes  with  tottering  step  and  slow  to  join 
old  master  and  old  missus  behind  the  sunset  hills. 

The  University  has  sent  out  many  sons  who  have  honored  her  in 
filling  large  places  in  the  history  of  our  State  and  country.  Hill  and 
Stephens  and  Toombs,  the  Cobbs,  and  Jacksons,  and  Lumpkins,  and 
Cra \vfords,  and  Gordons,  and  a  long  line  of  immortal  names,  have  illus- 
trated her  worth  in  the  professions,  in  the  field,  and  in  the  forum.  Of 
the  many  bright  and  brightening  names  of  her  younger  sons,  the  name 
of  Grady  easily  led  all  the  rest,  and  now  that  he  is  gone,  the  almost 
universal  cry  is.  who  among  those  that  are  left  is  great  enough  to  fill 
his  place.  In  the  words  of  one  who  had  much  to  do  in  moulding  his 
intellectual  life  :  "  Ulysses  is  away  on  his  wandering  and  there  is  none 
left  in  Ithaca  strong  enough  to  bend  his  bow." 

Resolved,  That  in  the  death  of  Henry  W.  Grady  the  Alumni  of  the 
University  of  Georgia  have  lost  from  their  ranks  a  man  who  illustrated 
the  best  that  comes  from  University  education. 

Resolved,  That  his  career  furnishes  to  our  young  men  a  shining  ex- 
ample of  one  who,  choosing  his  life  work,  loved  it  with  an  unwavering 
love,  believed  in  it  with  an  unalterable  and  tireless  devotion  and  reached 
success  and  eminence  before  he  had  rounded  two  score  years. 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  I  SO  I 

Resolved,  That  we  recognize  and  commend  the  unselfish  and  gener- 
ous love  of  our  brother  for  his  own  race  and  for  the  human  race — a 
love  that  was  so  warm  and  genial  that  it  won  men  to  him  as  if  bv 
magic.  Here  was  the  motive  power  that  developed  and  drove  his 
great  brain.  Here  was  the  "open  sesame"  that  unlocked  for  him 
those  treasure-houses  of  grand  thoughts  for  humanity  that  are  forever 
barred  to  cold-hearted  and  self-seeking  men. 

Resolved,    That  we  very  tenderly  and  lovingly  commend  to  our 
Heavenly  Father  the  loved  ones  about  his  own  hearthstone.    We  can 
not  understand  this  blow,  but  we  bow  in  submission  to  the  Judge  of  all 
the  earth,  who  will  do  right. 

Resolved,  That  copies  of  this  preamble  and  resolutions  be  furnished 
to  his  family,  and  to  the  Macon  and  Atlanta  papers  for  publication. 

G.  R.  GLENN,  \ 

W.  B.  HILL,  V  Committee. 

WASHINGTON  DESSAU,  ) 

These  resolutions  were  also  unanimously  adopted. 

Mr.  John  T.  Boif  euillet,  representing  the  press  of  Macon, 
spoke  as  follows : 

ADDRESS  OF  MR.  BOIFEUILLET. 

Mr.  Chairman,  Ladies  and  Gentlemen :  The  silver  cord 
is  loosed,  the  golden  bowl  is  broken,  and  the  most  brilliant 
light  in  American  journalism  is  veiled  in  darkness.  The 
crystal  spirit  has  returned  to  the  bright  realm  from  whence 
it  came,  as  an  evangel  of  peace,  hope  and  mercy. 

The  star  was  rapidly  ascending  to  the  zenith  of  its 
greatest  brilliancy  and  magnitude  when  suddenly  it  dis- 
appeared below  the  horizon,  but  across  the  journalistic 
firmament  of  the  country  it  has  left  an  effulgent  track 
whose  reflection  illuminates  the  world. 

Henry  Grady's  sun-bright  intellect  shone  with  a  splendor 
that  dazzled  the  eyes  of  men,  and  made  luminous  the  pages 
traced  by  his  magnetic  pen.  The  cold  type  sparkled  witli 
the  fires  of  his  genius.  His  writings  breathed  a  spirit  of 
sweetness  and  good- will.  They  were  inspired  by  lofty  pur- 
poses and  earnest  endeavor,  free  from  all  suspicion  of  s«-l 
fishness  or  insincerity.  No  shadow  of  doubt  fell  across  tin- 
sunshine  of  his  truth. 


392  III.NKY    \\'.    fiHADY, 

Wherever  a  sunbeam  wandered,  or  a  tear-drop  glistened  ; 
wherever  a  perishing  life  trod  upon  the  ebbing  tide  ;  wher 
ever  beauty  sat  garlanded,  or  grief  repined,  there  Grady 
was,  singing  his  loves  and  binding  rainbow  hopes  around 
the  darkest  despair.  His  harp  was  strung  in  harmony  with 
the  chords  of  the  human  heart. 

When  God  in  his  eternal  council  conceived  the  thought 
of  man's  creation,  he  called  to  him  the  three  ministers  who 
wait  constantly  upon  the  throne,  Justice,  Truth,  and  Mercy, 
and  thus  addressed  them  :  "  Shall  we  make  man  ? "  Then 
said  Justice :  "  O  God,  make  him  not,  for  he  will  trample 
upon  the  laws."  Truth  made  answer  also  :  "0  God,  make 
him  not,  for  he  will  pollute  the  sanctuaries."  But  Mercy, 
dropping  upon  her  knees,  and  looking  up  through  her 
tears,  exclaimed:  "O  God,  make  him — and  I  will  watch 
over  him  with  my  care  through  all  the  dark  paths  which 
he  may  have  to  tread  !"  Then  God  made  man,  and  said 
tc  him :  "  O  man,  thou  art  the  child  of  Mercy  ;  go  and  deal 
with  thy  brother." 

So,  Henry  Grady,  a  ministering  angel  of  mercy  on  earth, 
faithfully  tried,  throughout  his  life,  in  his  conduct  toward 
his  fellow-man,  to  follow  the  Divine  injunction  given  at 
man's  creation  morn.  His  pen  was  never  dipped  in  malice 
or  bitterness,  but  was  always  lifted  in  behalf  of  charity, 
love  and  kindness  ;  in  behalf  of  progress,  industry  and 
enterprise  ;  in  behalf  of  the  South  and  her  institutions— his 
State  and  her  people. 

For  every  heart  he  had  a  tone, 
Could  make  its  pulses  all  his  own. 

Some  men  burst  to  shatters  by  their  own  furious  notion, 
others  in  the  course  of  nature  simply  cease  to  shine  ;  some 
dart  through  the  period  of  their  existence  like  meteors 
through  the  sky,  leaving  as  little  impression  behind  and 
having  with  it  a  connection  equally  as  slight,  while  others 
enter  it  so  thoroughly  that  the  time  becomes  identified 
with  them.  To  this  latter  class  belonged  Henry  Grady. 

His  pen  improved  the    agriculture   of   the  South ;   it 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND    SPKKrHKS. 

advanced  the  material  interest  and  substantial  <rrn\\th  of 
Georgia  ;  it  advocated  industrial  training  for  the  youths 
and  maidens  of  the  land  ;  it  developed  the  poetry  of  the 
Slate;  it  elevated  the  morals  of  men  and  purified  their 
character  ;  itcreated  noble  aspirations  in  the  human  heart  ; 
it  implanted  seeds  of  benevolence,  charity  and  liberality  ; 
it  taught  the  lesson  of  self-abnegation  and  forgiveness  ;  it 
inculcated  principles  of  patriotism  and  love  of  country  ;  it 
softened  animosities  between  the  North  and  South,  and 
clasped  the  hands  of  the  two  sections  in  fraternal  greeting. 
His  pen  built  Atlanta,  it  aided  in  building  up  Georgia  ;  it 
established  expositions  that  were  a  credit  to  the  State  and 
a  glory  to  her  people  ;  it  accumulated  by  one  editorial 
$85,000  for  the  erection  of  a  Y.  M.  C.  A.  building  ;  it  col- 
lected the  fund  for  the  erection  of  the  Confederate  soldiers' 
home,  which  will  ever  stand  as  a  monument  to  his  patriot- 
ism and  fidelity.  When  winter  clasped  Atlanta  in  its  icy 
embrace,  and  the  poor  were  suffering  from  hunger  and  cold, 
his  pleading  pen  made  the  God-favored  people  of  that  city, 
who  sat  within  places  of  wealth  and  comfort,  by  glowing 
fires  and  bountifully  laden  tables,  hear  the  wail  of  the 
orphan  and  the  cry  of  the  widow  ;  purse-strings  were 
unfastened,  cold  hearts  thawed  under  the  magnetic 
warmth  of  his  melting  pathos,  and  in  a  few  hours  there 
was  not  an  empty  larder  or  a  fireless  home  among  the  poor 
of  Georgia's  great  capital.  Whether  engaged  in  making 
governors  and  senators,  or  preparing  a  Christmas  dinner 
for  newsboys,  whether  occupied  in  building  a  church  or 
forming  a  Chautauqua  ;  whether  constructing  a  railroad  or 
erecting  some  eleemosynary  institution,  his  pen  was  power- 
ful and  his  influence  potent.  It  has  left  its  impress  upon 
the  tablets  of  the  world's  memory,  and  the  name  of  Henry 
Grady,  the  great  pacificator,  will  live  in  song  and  story 
until  the  sundown  of  time. 

According  to  a  contemporary,  Henry  Grady,  while  a 
beardless  student  at  college,  wrote  a  letter  to  th»-  Atlanta 
Constitution,  which  was  his  first  newspaper  experience. 
The  sparkle  and  dash  of  the  communication  so  pleased  the 


H04  III:M:V  w,  GRADY, 


f  the  paper,  that  when  the  first  press  Convention 
after  the  war  was  tendered  a  ride  over  the  State  road,  the 
editor  telegraphed  his  boyish  correspondent,  who  had  then 
returned  to  his  home  in  At  IK-US,  that  he  wished  to  have  him 
represent  the  Constitution  on  that  trip,  and  write  tip  the 
Country  and  its  resources  along  the  line  of  the  road.  Mr, 
Grady  accepted  the  commission,  and  of  all  the  hundreds  of 
letters  written  on  the  occasion,  his,  over  the  signature  of 
"King  Hans,"  were  most  popular  and  most  widely  copied. 
He  became  editor  and  one  of  the  proprietors  of  the  Rome 
t>aily  Commercial,  a  sprightly,  newsy,  and  enterprising 
journal.  Rome,  however,  was  at  that  time  too  small  to 
support  a  daily  paper  on  such  a  scale,  and  in  1872  Mr. 
Grady  purchased  an  interest  in  the  Atlanta  Herald.  Here 
he  found  room  and  opportunity  for  his  soaring  wings,  and 
the  Herald  became  one  of  the  most  brilliant  papers  ever 
published  in  Georgia.  In  1876  he  became  connected  with 
the  Constitution.  By  this  time  his  editorial  abilities  had 
made  him  many  friends  at  home  and  abroad,  and  James 
Gordon  Bennett  at  once  made  him  the  Southern  represen- 
tative of  the  New  York  Herald.  On  this  journal  Mr. 
Grady  did  some  of  the  best  work  of  his  life.  He  rapidly 
regained  all  that  he  had  lost  in  his  ventures,  and  in  1880 
purchased  a  fourth  interest  in  the  Constitution,  taking  the 
position  of  managing  editor,  which  he  held  at  the  time  of 
his  death.  His  career  in  that  capacity  is  a  matter  of  proud 
and  brilliant  history.  He  had  just  commenced  an  interest- 
ing series  of  valuable  letters  to  the  New  York  Ledger  when 
he  was  stricken  down  with  fatal  sickness,  even  while  the 
plaudits  of  the  admiring  multitude  were  ringing  in  his  ears 
and  the  press  of  the  country  was  singing  his  praises. 

The  last  editorial  Grady  wrote  was  the  beautiful  and 
soulful  tribute  on  the  death  of  Jefferson  Davis  ;  and  on  the 
eve  of  Mr.  Grady'  s  departure  from  Atlanta  for  Boston  he 
sounded  the  bugle-call  for  funds  to  help  erect  a  monument 
to  the  peerless  champion  of  the  "Lost  Cause."  How 
st  innge,  indeed,  that  the  illustrious  leader  and  sage  of  the 
Old  South  and  the  brilliant  and  fearless  apostle  of  the  New 


HIS  LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES. 

South,  should  pass  away  so  near  together.  Ben  Hill  died. 
and  his  place  has  never  been  supplied  in  Georgia.  Mr. 
Grady  approached  nearer  to  it  than  any  other  man.  Now 
Grady  is  gone,  and  his  duplicate  cannot  be  found  in  the 
State.  Society  was  blessed  by  his  living  and  his  State 
advanced  by  his  usefulness  and  excellence. 

Like  the  great  Cicero,  who,  when  quitting  Rome,  took 
from  among  his  domestic  divinities  the  ivory  statue  of 
Minerva,  the  protectress  of  Rome,  and  consecrated  it  in  the 
temple,  to  render  it  inviolable  to  the  spoilers,  so  Henry 
Grady,  when  leaving  his  college  halls  to  enter  upon  a  bril- 
liant life  in  the  journalistic  world,  took  with  him  to  the 
oracles  the  statue  of  pure  thought,  and  after  its  consecra- 
tion, to  protect  and  preserve  it  in  his  bosom,  it  became  to 
him  a  shield  and  buckler.  Thus  armed  he  went  forward  to 
the  battle  of  life,  determined  to  do  his  whole  duty  to  his 
country,  his  God  and  truth.  How  well  he  succeeded,  the 
voice  of  admiring  humanity  proclaims,  and  the  angels  of 
heaven  have  recorded.  He  vanquished  all  opposition  and 
waved  his  triumphant  banner  over  every  field  of  conflict. 

His  thoughts  were  sparks  struck  from  the  mind  of 
Deity,  immortal  in  their  character  and  duration.  They 
were  active,  energizing,  beautiful,  and  refined.  His  mind 
was  like  a  precious  bulb,  putting  forth  its  shoots  and  bloom- 
ing its  flowers,  warmed  by  the  sunshine  and  watered  by  the 
showers.  It  was  like  a  beautiful  blade,  burnished  and 
brightened,  and  as  it  flashed  in  the  sunlight  it  mirrored  lii.s 
kingly  soul  and  knightly  spirit. 

Looking  back  at  the  ages  that  have  rolled  by  in  the 
revolutions  of  time,  what  have  we  remaining  of  tin-  j.;i>t 
but  the  thoughts  of  men  ?  Where  is  magnificent  Babylon 
with  her  palaces,  her  artificial  lakes  and  hanging  gardens 
that  were  the  pride  and  luxury  of  her  vicious  inhabitants  ; 
where  is  majestic  Nineveh,  that  proud  mistivss  of  the  i 
with  her  monuments  of  commercial  enterprise  and  pros- 
perity? Alas!  they  are  no  more.  Tyre,  that  great  city, 
into  whose  lap  the  treasures  of  the  world  were  poured.  >he 
too  is  no  more.  The  waves  of  the  sea  now  roll  where  ODce 


396  II KXKV    \V.    GRADY, 

stood  the  immense  and  sumptuous  palaces  of  Tyrian  wealth. 
Temples,  arches  and  columns  may  crumble  to  pieces  and  be 
swept  into  the  sea  of  oblivion  ;  nature  may  decay  and  races 
of  men  come  and  go  like  the  mists  of  the  morning  before 
the  rising  sun,  but  the  proud  monuments  of  Henry  Grady's 
mind  will  survive  the  wrecks  of  matter  and  the  shocks  of 
time. 

On  the  Piedmont  heights  peacefully  sleeps  the  freshness 
of  the  heart  of  the  New  South,  cut  down  in  the  grandeur 
of  his  fame  and  in  the  meridian  of  his  powers,  in  the  glory 
of  his  life  and  in  the  richest  prime  of  his  royal  manhood. 
His  brow  is  wreathed  with  laurel.  Costly  marble  will 
mark  the  place  of  his  head,  and  beautiful  flowers  bloom  at 
his  feet.  There  the  birds  will  carol  their  vespers,  and 
gentle  breezes  breathe  fragrance  o'er  his  grave.  The  sun  in 
his  dying  splendor,  ere  sinking  to  rest  amid  the  clouds  that 
veil  the  "golden  gate,"  will  linger  to  kiss  the  majestic 
monument  reared  bp  loving  hearts,  and  with  a  flood  of 
beauty  bathe  it  in  heaventy glory.  And  then  the  blush 
fades,  even  as  it  fades  from  the  face  of  a  beautiful  woman. 
Shadows  begin  to  climb  the  hill-side,  and  nature  sleeps, 
lulled  by  the  soft  music  of  the  singing  wind.  The  stars,  the 
bright  forget-me-nots  of  the  angels,  come  out  to  keep  their 
vigils  o'er  the  sleeping  dust  of  him  whose  soul  hath  gone 

To  that  fair  land  upon  whose  strand 
No  wind  of  winter  moans. 

Major  J.  F.  Hanson,  as  the  representative  of  the  Cham- 
ber of  Commerce,  said  : 

ADDRESS   OF  MAJOR  HANSON. 

It  would  be  impossible  at  this  short  distance  in  point  of 
time  from  the  final  struggle  in  which  Mr.  Grady  yielded 
up  his  life,  to  form  a  just  estimate  of  his  character,  his 
attainments  and  his  work.  These  have  passed  into  history, 
and  will  survive  the  mournful  demonstrations  of  his  people, 
because  of  their  loss  in  his  sudden  and  unexpected  death. 

To  many  of  you  he  was  personally  known,  while,  with 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECH 

the  people  of  Georgia,  his  name  was  a  household  word.  In 
his  chosen  profession  he  will  rank  with  Laniar  and  \Vatti-r- 
son.  With  these  exceptions,  in  the  field  of  Southern  jour- 
nalism, he  was  without  a  rival  or  a  peer,  while,  as  an  orator, 
his  brilliant  efforts  had  attracted  the  attention  and  won  the 
plaudits  of  the  entire  country. 

His  speeches  before  the  New  England  Society,  at  Dallas, 
Texas,  Augusta,  Georgia,  the  University  of  Virginia,  and 
finally  at  Boston,  constitute  the  record  upon  which  mu>t 
rest  his  claim  to  statesmanship. 

While  the  people  of  the  South,  with  one  voice,  approve 
the  purpose  manifested  in  these  matchless  efforts  to  mam- 
tain  the  supremacy  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  in  the  public  affairs 
of  this  section,  there  are  differences  of  opinion  with  refer- 
ence to  the  methods,  which,  by  implication  at  least,  he 
was  supposed  to  have  approved,  for  the  accomplishment  of 
this  purpose.  If,  at  this  point,  there  was  real  or  apparent 
conflict  with  the  broad  spirit  of  nationalism,  for  which  at 
other  times  he  pleaded  so  often  and  so  eloquently,  it  is  but 
fair  to  attribute  it  to  the  supreme  conviction  on  his  part 
that,  through  white  supremacy  in  the  South,  by  whatever 
means  maintained,  this  end  was  to  be  secured. 

However  we  may  differ  with  reference  to  the  methods 
which,  as  a  last  alternative,  he  would  have  employed,  .or 
their  final  effect  upon  the  institutions  of  our  country,  we 
recognize  the  great  purpose  which  inspired  his  efforts  in 
our  behalf.  Because  this  is  true,  the  people  of  the  South 
will  keep  his  memory  green,  whatever  the  opinion  of  the 
world  may  be  with  reference  to  this  question. 

In  the  material  development  of  the  South,  and  ln-r 
future  prosperity,  power  and  glory,  his  faith  was  complftr. 
He  labored  without  interruption  duriiii:  his  cntiiv  caiv.T  \<> 
promote  these  great  results,  and  impressed  himself  upon 
his  section  in  its  new  growth  and  nr\v  li!'.-.  more  than  any 
man  of  his  time.  The  wonderful  growth  of  his  own  city 
was  due  to  the  broad  liberality  and  supreme  confidmo-  in 
its  future  with  which  he  inspired  the  people  of  Atlanta. 

Phenomenal  as  his  career  has  been  during  the  past  few 


398  HENRY   W.    GRADY, 

years,  he  had  not  reached  the  zenith  of  his  powers,  and 
what  h<>  accomplished  gave  promise  of  greater  achieve- 
ments which  the  future  had  in  store  for  him,  of  increasing 
fame,  and  for  his  State  a  richer  heritage  in  his  name.  It 
is  doubtful  if  he  fully  understood,  or  had  ever  tested  to 
the  limit  his  power  as  an  orator.  As  occasion  increased 
the  demand  upon  him,  he  measured  up  to  its  full  require- 
ments, until  his  friends  had  grown  confident  of  new  and 
greater  triumphs. 

\Ve  shall  miss  him  much.  His  faults  (and  faults  he  had 
like  other  men)  are  forgotten  in  view  of  his  service  to  his 
friends,  his  home,  his  State  and  his  country,  and  of  his 
untimely  death,  when  the  highest  honors  which  his  people 
could  bestow  were  gathering  about  him. 

If  he  had  not  reached  the  meridian  of  his  powers,  he 
died  in  the  fullness  of  a  great  fame,  and  we  turn  from  his 
grave  sorrowing,  but  not  without  hope,  for  we  leave  him  in 
the  hands  of  that  Providence  which  knoweth  best,  and 
doeth  all  things  well. 

Judge  Emory  Speer,  for  the  resident  alumni  of  the  Uni- 
versity of  Georgia,  said  : 

JUDGE  SPEER' s  ADDRESS. 

Mr.  President,  Ladies  and  Gentlemen  :  It  is  instinctive 
with  civilized  humanity  to  honor  the  illustrious  dead.  This 
animating  impulse  is  as  practical  and  beneficent  in  its 
results  to  the  living,  as  it  is  righteous  and  compensating  to 
those  glorious  natures  who  have  consecrated  their  lives  to 
the  service  of  their  country  and  of  mankind. 

The  youthful  Athenian  might  contemplate  the  statue  to 
Demosthenes,  and  with  emulation  kindled  by  the  story  of 
his  eloquence  and  his  courage,  might  resolve  that  his  own 
lips  shall  be  touched  as  with  the  honey  of  Hybla,  and  that 
he  will,  if  needful,  lead  the  people  against  another  Phillip. 
The  Switzer  lad,  bowed  before  the  altar  in  the  chapel  of 
William  Tell,  will  unconsciously  swear  forever  to  defend 
the  independence  of  his  mountain  home.  The  American 


Mis    LIFK,    WHITINGS,    AND   8FEBOHE8. 

youth,  standing  wliere  the  monument  to  the  Father  of  his 
Country  throws  its  gigantic  shadow  across  the  tranquil 
bosom  of  the  Potomac,  with  elevation  of  soul  and  patriotic 
animation  will  exclaim  :  I,  too,  am  an  American  and  a  free- 
man. And,  sir,  this  characteristic  of  a  generous  and  givat 
people  finds  unexampled  expression  in  the  conduct  of  our 
country  towards  the  memory  of  its  soldiers,  its  statesmen, 
its  patriots,  its  philanthropists.  They  are  enshrined  in  the 
hearts  of  a  grateful  people. 

Their  deeds,  as  they  deserve, 

Receive  proud  recompense.     We  give  in  charge 

Their  names  to  the  sweet  lyre.     The  historic  muse, 

Proud  of  the  treasure,  marches  with  it  down 

To  latest  times;  and  sculpture,  in  her  turn, 

Gives  bond  in  stone  and  ever-during  brass 

To  guard  them  and  immortalize  her  trust. 

In  obedience  to  this  vitalizing  and  commanding  influence 
of  a  noble  people,  in  deference  to  the  designation  of  his 
brothers  and  mine,  in  the  beautiful  association  and  sacred 
memories  of  alma  mater,  I  come  to  place  a  simple  chaplet 
upon  the  grave  of  Henry  Grady,  an  humble  votive  offering 
at  the  shrine  he  has  merited  and  won  in  the  Valhalla  of 
the  American  people.  Perhaps,  sir,  in  all  this  vast  congre- 
ga,tion  there  is  not  one  man  who  knew  as  I  knew  our  dead 
brother  in  the  happy  and  halcyon  days  of  our  childhood. 
Thirty  years  ago  we  were  boys  together.  Together  we 
attended  the  little  school  in  the  shadow  of  the  great  uni- 
versity buildings,  taught  by  a  noble  woman,  the  dau.u-ht«-r 
of  the  venerable  Dr.  Church,  the  president  of  Franklin 
College.  Henry  was  then  remarkable  for  his  sunny  nat  1 1  re. 
his  generous  disposition,  his  superabundant  flow  of  good 
humor  and  spirited  energy.  Beautifully  proportioned, 
agile,  swift  of  foot,  sinewy  and  strong  for  his  ap-.  li«-  was 
easily  the  leader  of  our  childish  sports.  Among  his  youiiL; 
companions  he  was  even  then  the  popular  favorite  he  has 
ever  been.  In  the  revolution  of  the  "Great  Iron  Wheel," 
(an  allusion  which  all  good  Methodists  will  imdi-rstand),  I 
was  borne  away  at  the  end  of  the  year,  and  Henry  Grady 


400  HENRY   W.    GRADY, 

for  years  went  out  of  my  life.  A  year  later  the  dun  clouds 
of  war  enveloped  the  country.  Five  years  elapsed,  and 
when  I  returned  to  Athens  in  September,  1866,  to  enter  the 
sophomore  class  at  the  University,  there  was  Grady  rising 
junior.  The  beautiful  boy  had  become  a  beautiful  youth. 
His  sunny  nature  had  become  even  brighter.  His  gener- 
osity had  become  a  fault.  When  I  had  known  him  in  '59, 
his  father  was  perhaps  the  most  successful  and  enterpris- 
ing merchant  of  Northeast  Georgia.  He  was  a  sturdy  North 
Carolinian  with  that  robustness  and  shrewd  vigor  of  intel- 
lectuality which,  with  men  from  that  section,  has  seemed, 
in  many  instances,  to  dispense  with  the  necessity  of  elabor- 
ate culture.  A  soldier  and  officer  of  the  confederacy,  he 
had  fallen  at  the  head  of  his  regiment,  in  one  of  the  desper- 
ate battles  on  the  lines  at  Petersburg,  when  the  immortal 
army,  of  Northern  Virginia  had,  in  the  language  of  the  gal- 
lant Gordon,  been  "fought  to  a  frazzle."  The  brave  soldier 
and  thrifty  merchant  had  left  a  large  estate.  Grady  was 
living  with  his  mother,  in  that  lovely,  old-fashioned  home 
of  which,  in  Boston,  he  caught  the  vision,  "with  its  lofty 
pillars,  and  white  pigeons  fluttering  down  through  the 
golden  air." 

His  college  life  was  a  miracle  of  sweetness  and  good- 
ness ;  never  did  a  glass  of  wine  moisten  his  lips.  Never 
did  an  oath  or  an  obscene  word  defile  that  tongue  whose 
honeyed  accents  in  time  to  come  were  to  persuade  the 
millions  of  the  fidelity  and  patriotism  of  the  people  he 
loved.  Well  do  I  remember  the  look  of  amazement,  of 
indulgent  but  all  intrepid  forbearance,  which  came  into 
his  face  when  one  day  a  college  bully  offered  to  insult  him. 
In  those  days  of  innumerable  college  flirtations  he  had  but 
one  sweetheart,  and  she  the  beautiful  girl  who  became  his 
wife  and  is  now  the  mother  of  his  children,  and  his  bereaved 
and  disconsolate  widow. 

This  sweetness  of  disposition  ran  through  his  whole  life. 
If  the  great  journal  of  which  he  became  an  editor  was 
engaged  in  an  acrimonious  controversy,  some  other  writer 
was  detailed  to  conduct  it.  Grady  had  no  taste  for  contro- 


HIS   LIFE,    WHITINGS,    AND    SPEECHES.  401 

versy  of  any  acrid  sort,  and  I  recall  but  perhaps  one  excep- 
tion in  his  whole  editorial  life.  But  while  he  would  never 
quarrel,  I  had  the  best  right  to  know,  when  the  emerg- 
ency came,  he  had  the  intrepidity  of  a  hero.  Well  do  I 
remember  the  outcome  of  a  thoughtlessly  cruel  practical 
joke,  which  resulted  in  showing  me  and  many  others  the 
splendid  fire  of  his  courage.  Early  in  my  college  life,  as 
Grady  and  I  were  walking  in  a  dark  night  on  the  lonely 
streets  of  Cobham  to  a  supposed  meeting  of  the  Chi  Phi 
Fraternity  we  were  waylaid  by  a  number  of  our  college 
mates.  I  was  in  the  secret,  Grady  was  not.  A  huge  navy 
revolver,  with  every  cylinder  loaded  with  blank  cartridges, 
had  been  thrust  upon  him  as  a  means  of  defense  from  a 
band  of  mythical  outlaws,  who  had  made  purely  imaginary 
threats  of  the  bloodiest  description  against  everybody  in 
general  and  the  students  of  the  university  in  particular. 
Grady  put  the  revolver  in  his  pocket  and  promised  to  stand 
by  me,  and  well  did  he  redeem  the  promise.  We  started 
and  as  we  passed  a  dark  grove  near  the  residence  of  General 
Howell  Cobb  the  band  of  supposed  assassins  rushed  upon 
us  with  demoniac  yells,  and  firing  a  veritable  mitraille  of 
pistol  shots  with  powder  charges.  Thoughtless  boy  that  I 
was.  I  shouted  a  defiance  to  the  assassins  and  called  to 
Grady  to  stand  by  me,  and  I  gave  shot  for  shot  as  fast  as  \ 
could  pull  the  trigger.  The  dear  fellow  had  not  the  slight- 
est doubt  that  we  were  assailed  by  overwhelming  odds  by 
armed  desperate  foes,  but  he  stood  by  my  side,  firing 
straight  at  the  on-rushing  foe,  until,  and  not  until,  after 
several  volleys  I  was  shot  dead  and  dropped  to  the  ground  ; 
when,  being  overpowered  by  numbers,  and  his  ally  killed, 
he  made  a  masterly  retreat.  Dear,  kindly,  gallant  nal  HIT, 
little  didst  thou  deem  that  this  boyish  prank,  practiced  l>y 
those  whose  familiar  love  embolden  them,  and  all  in  tin1 
riotous  exuberance  of  careless  youth  would  so  soon  be 
recalled  when  thou  wert  gone,  recalled  with  siuhs  and  t«-ars 
to  testify  that  thy  gentle  life  had  under  its  kindly  surface 
a  soul  as  fearless  as  ever  "swarmed  up  the  breach  at 
Ascalon." 


402  HENRY    W.    GUADY, 

Grad.y,  as  a  writer  and  orator,  was  surpassed  by  no  stu- 
dent of  the  University,  although  lie  was  doubtless  the 
youngest  member  of  his  class.  Always,  however,  more 
successful  in  his  efforts  to  advance  the  political  fortunes 
of  others  than  of  himself,  he  was  defeated  for  anniversarian 
of  the  Phi  Kappa  society  by  one  vote  ;  but,  as  I  remember, 
he  bore  off  the  equal  distinction  of  commencement  orator, 
each  society,  at  that  time,  having  the  right  to  elect  one  of 
its  members  to  that  position.  He  did  not  graduate  with 
class  honor,  and  perhaps  fortunately.  It  is  too  often  true 
that  honor  men  mistake  the  text-books  which  are  merely 
the  keys  to  the  understanding,  for  objects  worthy  of  ulti- 
mate pursuit  and  mastery,  and  we  sometimes  find  these 
gentlemen  grubbing  for  Greek  roots  and  construing  abstruse 
problems,  while  the  great,  busy,  throbbing  world  is  pass- 
ing them  by,  and  has  forgotten  their  existence.  From  the 
University  of  Georgia,  Grady  went  to  the  University  of 
Virginia.  Great  tidings  of  his  success  came  back  to  us  ; 
we  did  not  doubt  that  in  any  contest  which  would  try  the 
temper  of  the  man  he  would  roll  the  proud  scions  of  the 
first  families  of  Virginia  in  the  humiliating  dust  of  defeat. 
Sore  indeed  were  the  lamentations,  vociferous  our  denials 
of  a  free  ballot  arid  a  fair  count,  when  we  learned  that  he 
had  been  defeated  in  the  society  contest  there  ;  again,  as  I 
remember,  by  one  vote.  He  came  back  to  Georgia  and  to 
journalism,  and  from  that  moment  his  history  is  common 
property.  Others  have  spoken,  or  will  speak,  of  his  accom- 
plishments in  turning  the  Pactolian  streams  of  capital  into 
the  channels  of  Southern  investment,  of  the  numberless 
enterprises  to  which  he  brought  his  lucidity  of  statement, 
his  captivating  powers  of  argumentation,  his  magnetic 
methods  for  the  inspiration  of  others.  The  monuments  of 
the  vast  and  far-reaching  designs  stand  out  all  over  this 
broad  land  ;  gigantic  factories,  their  tall  chimneys  tower- 
ing toward  the  sky,  mighty  railroads  stretching  through 
the  mountains  of  Georgia,  where  Tallulah  and  Tugalo  rush 
downward  toward  the  sea,  where  hard  by  Toccoa  dashes 
its  translucent  waves  to  spray.  Others,  far  away  toward 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND  SPEECHES.  403 

the  shore  of  the  Mexican  Gulf,  whose  languid  waves,  im- 
pelled by  the  soft  winds  of  the  tropics,  cast  the  sea  foam 
on  the  snowy  blossoms  of  the  magnolia  and  the  golden 
fruitage  of  the  orange,  mines  have  been  opened  and  earth 
made  to  surrender  from  subterranean  stores  her  hidden 
wealth  at  the  touch  of  his  magical  wand.  Unnumbered 
beneficient  projects  attest  his  genius  and  his  philanthropy. 
But,  not  content  to  evolve  the  treasures  of  physical  nature, 
he  labored  incessantly  to  provide  methods  to  develop  the 
mentality  of  the  youth  of  the  State.  As  a  trustee  of  the 
University,  and  an  active  member  of  its  Alumni  society ; 
as  one  in  control  of  that  mighty  engine  of  public  thought, 
the  great  paper  of  which  he  was  an  editor,  his  influence 
was  looking  and  moving  ever  toward  the  light.  He  knew 
that  popular  ignorance  was  the  greatest  danger  to  liberty, 
the  greatest  foe  to  national  prosperity.  He  knew  that  if 
the  terrible  potency  of  its  groping  in  darkness  and  preju- 
dice could  but  once,  like  the  blind  Samson,  grasp  the  pil- 
lar of  society  in  its  muscular  arms,  it  would  put  forth  its 
baleful  strength  and  whelm  every  social  interest  in  crush- 
ing, appaling  disaster  and  irremediable  ruin. 

The  most  tolerant  of  men,  the  life  of  our  dear  brother 
was  one  of  long  protest  against  the  narrowness  of  partisan- 
ship and  sectional  bigotry.  He  was  the  most  independent 
of  thinkers. 

He  demonstrated  to  the  people  of  both  sections  of  our 
once  divided  country,  that  we  might  love  and  honor  the 
traditions  of  our  Confederacy,  and  with  absolute  loyalty 
and  devotion  to  the  Union  as  restored.  He  made  it  plain 
to  the  minds  of  the  Northern  people  that  while  it  was  im- 
possible for  an  ex-Confederate  soldier  or  the  children  of  his 
blood,  to  recall  without  a  kindling  eye  and  a  quirki-ning 
pulse  the  swift  march,  the  stubborn  retreat,  the  intivpid 
advance,  the  charging  cry  of  the  gallant  gray  lines  as  they 
swept  forward  to  the  attack,  the  red -cross  battle-flags  as 
their  bullet-torn  folds  were  borne  aloft  in  the  hands  of 
heroes  along  the  fiery  crest  of  battle.  But  he  madf  it  plain 
also  that  these  are  but  the  emotions  and  expressions  of 


404  1  n:\HY  w.  GRAbY, 

pride  that  a  brave  people  cherish  in  the  memories  of  their 
manhood,  in  the  record  of  their  soldierly  devotion.  Are 
we  less  imbued  with  the  spirit  of  true  Americanism  on  this 
account  ?  No,  forever,  no  !  Are  the  sons  of  Rupert's  cava- 
liers, or  Cromwell's  Ironsides  less  true  to  England  and  her 
constitution,  because  their  fathers  charged  home  in  oppos- 
ing squadrons  at  Edgehill  and  Naseby  ?  Do  not  English- 
men the  world  over  cherish  the  common  heritage  of  their 
common  valor  ?  Have  Scotchmen,  who  fought  side  by  side 
with  the  English  in  the  deserts  of  the  Soudan,  or  the  jungles 
of  Burmah,  forgotten  the  memories  of  Bannockburn,  of 
Bruce,  and  of  Wallace  ? 

The  time  will  come — aye,  it  is  present — when  the  heroism 
of  the  gray  and  of  the  blue,  is  a  common  element  of  Amer- 
ica's military  power.  I  repeat,  it  is  now.  There  is  not  a 
war  officer  in  the  civilized  world  in  comparing  the  power  of 
his  own  country  with  that  of  ours,  who  does  not  estimate 
man  for  man  as  soldiers  of  the  Union,  the  fighting  strength 
of  the  Confederacy. 

The  statesmen  of  the  Old  World  know  that  underlying 
all  of  the  temporary  questions  of  the  hour — underlying  all 
the  resounding  disputes,  whether  in  the  language  of  Emer- 
son, "James  or  Jonathan  shall  sit  in  the  chair  and  hold 
the  purse,"  the  great  patriotic  heart  of  the  people  is  true 
to  the  constitution  of  the  fathers,  true  to  republican  govern- 
ment, true  to  the  sovereignty  of  the  people,  true  to  the 
gorgeous  ensign  of  our  country. 

In  the  presence  of  this  knowledge,  in  the  presence  of 
that  mighty  mission  which  under  the  providence  of  God 
has  grown  and  expanded  day  by  day  and  century  by  century 
since  Columbus,  from  his  frail  caravel,  beheld  rising  before 
his  enraptured  vision  the  nodding  palms  and  gleaming 
shores  of  another  continent,  the  mission  to  confer  upon 
humanity  the  power  and  privilege  of  government  by  the 
people  and  for  the  people,  should  be  the  chiefest  care  of 
our  countrymen.  Of  this  mission  Grady  spoke  with  an 
eloquence  so  elevated  and  so  inspired  that  it  seemed  as  if 
the  voices  of  them  waiting  angels  were  whispering  to  his 


HIS    LIFE,    WHITINGS,    AND    SPKKCHI.s. 

prophetic  intelligence  messages  of  peace,  joy  and  gladness 
to  liis  countrymen.     He  said  : 

"A  mighty  duty,  and  a  mighty  inspiration,  impels  every 
one  of  us  to-night  to  lose  in  patriotic,  consecration  what- 
ever estranges,  whatever  divides.  We,  sir,  are  Americans 
— and  we  fight  for  human  liberty  !  The  uplifting  force  of 
the  American  idea  is  under  every  throne  on  earth.  France, 
Brazil — these  are  our  victories.  To  redeem  the  earth  from 
kingcraft  and  oppression — this  is  our  mission  !  And  w<> 
shall  not  fail.  God  has  sown  in  our  soil  the  seed  of  His 
millennial  harvest,  and  He  will  not  lay  the  sickle  to  the 
ripening  crop  until  His  full  and  perfect  day  has  come. 
Our  history,  sir,  has  been  a  constant  and  expanding  mira- 
cle from  Plymouth  Rock  and  Jamestown  all  the  way — 
aye,  even  from  the  hour  when,  from  the  voiceless  and 
trackless  ocean,  a  new  world  rose  to  the  sight  of  the  in- 
spired sailor.  As  we  approach  the  fourth  centennial  of 
that  stupendous  day — when  the  old  world  will  come  to 
marvel  and  to  learn,  amid  our  gathered  treasures — let  us 
resolve  to  crown  the  miracles  of  our  past  with  the  specta- 
cle of  a  Republic  compact,  united,  indissoluble  in  the  bonds 
of  love — loving  from  the  Lakes  to  the  Gulf — the  wounds  of 
war  healed  in  every  heart  as  on  every  hill — serene  and 
resplendent  at  the  summit  of  human  achievement  and 
earthly  glory — blazing  out  the  path  and  making  clear  the 
way,  up  which  all  nations  of  the  earth  must  come  in  God's 
appointed  time !  " 

\Ve  may  imagine  that  this  inspired  utterance  com- 
pleted, there  came  to  his  glorious  mentality  another 
thought,  another  vision.  Again  he  exclaims  as  once 
before  to  a  mighty  throng,  and  now  to  his  own  people  : 

"All  this,  my  country,  and  no  more  can  we  do  for  you. 
As  I  look  the  vision  grows,  the  splendor  deepens,  the  hori- 
zon falls  back,  the  skies  open  their  everlasting  gates,  and 
the  glory  of  the  Almighty  God  streams  through,  as  He 
looks  down  on  His  people  who  have  <riven  themselves  unto 
Him.  and  leads  them  from  one  triumph  to  another  until 
they  have  reached  a  glory  unspeaking,  and  the  whirling 


HHXIJV    W.    GRADY, 

stars,  as  in  their  courses  through  Arcturus  they  run  to  the 
Milky  Way,  shall  not  look  down  on  a  better  people  or  a 
happier  land." 

Thus  saying,  his  work  was  ended — his  earthly  pilgrim- 
age was  o'er.     He  went  to  sleep 

Like  one  who  wraps  the  drapery  of  his  couch  about  him 
And  lays  him  down  to  pleasant  dreams. 

• 

Mr.  Hugh  V.  Washington,  representing  the  City  Govern- 
ment, said : 

ADDRESS  OF  MR.  WASHINGTON. 

Mr.  Chairman,  Ladies  and  Gentlemen  :  There  is  a  song- 
ster peculiar  to  Southern  woodland,  who  is  without  a  rival. 
I  have  heard  his  song  on  a  still  summer  night,  and  when  it 
died  away,  the  silence  seemed  deeper  and  more  impressive. 
Georgia  has  given  to  the  country  an  orator  whose  eloquence 
was  peculiar  to  himself,  and  charmed  every  audience 
North,  South  and  West,  but  that  which  made  him  dearest 
to  Southern  hearts  was  the  theme  he  delighted  to  present ; 
that  voice  was  never  raised  except  in  behalf  of  the  honor, 
the  interest  and  the  prosperity  of  his  people,  and  to-night 
we  know  that  that  voice  is  silent  forevermore.  I  have  no 
words  to  measure  the  profound  sorrow  I  feel  for  the  death 
of  Henry  Grady  ;  to  say  that  his  loss  to  the  country  can- 
not be  estimated,  and  that  there  is  no  one  to  take  his  place, 
is  but  to  express  a  thought  common  to  all.  His  career  as 
an  orator  dawned  as  that  other  great  Georgian,  Benn  Hill, 
passed  away.  The  first  time  I  ever  looked  upon  Jefferson 
Davis  was  when  he  stood  in  Atlanta  amid  a  vast  concourse 
to  honor  the  memory  of  the  eloquent  and  faithful  Hill. 
I  shall  never  forget  that  scene  :  there  stood  before  me  two 
types  of  Southern  manhood,  the  one  of  the  old,  the  other 
of  the  new ;  the  venerable  ex-president  came  upon  the 
platform,  and  a  glad  shout  arose  from  thousands  of 
voices, — he  stood  the  emblem  and  personification  of  all  \ve 
held  most  dear  in  the  past,  but  he  belonged  to  the  past. 
There  arose  to  welcome  him  a  young  Georgian  ;  his  speech 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEKCIIKS.  407 

of  welcome  was  a  masterpiece,  every  nerve  in  that  vast 
audience  vibrated,  and  every  voice  was  raised  in  deafening 
applause  when  Mr.  Grady  declared  that  the  rising  of  that 
morning's  sun,  bringing  with  it  our  beloved  ex-president, 
brought  greater  joy  to  Southern  hearts  than  any  since  the 
resurrection  morn.  Mr.  Grady,  cherishing  in  his  heart  of 
hearts  the  history  of  the  Confederacy,  seemed  an  inspira- 
tion of  hope  and  promise ;  he  seemed  to  stand  for  the 
Present  and  Future  ;  and  now  within  a  few  days  of  each 
other  these  noble  men  have  gone  to  their  rest,  and  the  close 
of  a  joyous  year  finds  our  people  bowed  in  sorrow  over 
their  graves.  Mr.  Grady's  mission  in  life  traveled  beyond 
State  bounds.  He  was  too  big,  too  broad,  too  patriotic  to 
be  narrow  or  partisan ;  but  he  was  a  Georgian  to  the 
core, — he  sprung  from  the  red  hills  of  classic  Athens  ;  he 
drank  at  the  fountain  of  knowledge  at  the  State  Univer- 
sity ;  what  was  nearest  to  Georgia  was  nearest  to  him,  and 
he  gave  his  life  that  the  position  of  Georgia  and  her  sister 
States  of  the  South  might  be  made  clear  to  our  brethren  at 
the  North ;  and  to-night,  by  strange  providence,  his  great 
work  is  closed,  and  he  is  sepulchered  in  the  bosom  of  his 
native  State,  in  Atlanta,  whose  greatness  is  due  more  to 
his  efforts  than  to  any  other  man. 

The  life  of  Henry  Grady  was  like  a  rare  and  beautiful 
gem  whose  every  side  was  resplendent  with  light ;  as  a  son 
he  was  what  every  mother  might  hope  for  in  her  boy  ;  as  a 
father  he  was  tender  and  true  ;  as  a  friend  he  was  open- 
hearted  and  generous  as  the  day  ;  as  a  member  of  his  old 
college  fraternity  none  exceeded  him  in  zeal  and  generos- 
ity ;  as  an  alumnus  of  the  State  University  his  fertile  pen 
and  brain  were  tireless  in  promoting  its  interests ;  as  a 
writer  he  was  at  once  forcible  and  fascinating  in  the  highest 
degree  ;  in  journalism  he  disregarded  old  methods,  and  set 
a  higher  standard  for  American  journalism  ;  as  an  orator  \\<> 
had  the  force  of  Northern  logic,  and  the  beauty  of  Southern 
diction  ;  but  as  much  as  we  may  admiiv  him  for  these  nohlf 
traits,  yet  it  is  in  the  life  of  Henry  Grady.  as  a  private  citi- 
zen, that  he  reached  the  highest  points  of  his  charact.-r.  1 


408  KV     \V.     (iKADV, 

• 

know  of  no  other  American  citizen  in  the  private  walks 
of  life  comparable  to  him.  He  never  sought  <>r  held  public 
office  ;  he  had  no  record  of  a  hundred  baitle-ii<_>lds  to  make 
him  famous  ;  his  life  was  filled  with  private  charities,  and 
every  enterprise  of  his  native  State  or  city  found  a  willing 
and  powerfnl  sympathizer  in  him.  The  many  charitable 
institutions  of  Atlanta  are  before  us  as  monuments  to  his 
z«-al  and  generosity  in  behalf  of  the  poor,  the  needy,  and 
the  forsaken.  After  twenty-five  years,  when  the  ranks  of 
the  Confederate  veterans  had  been  decimated  to  a  handful 
by  the  hand  of  time,  and  our  State  was  unable  to  provide 
a  home  for  the  scattered  remnant,  he  conceived  the  plan  of 
building  in  our  capital  city,  by  private  benefaction,  the 
Confederate  Home.  Wherever  there  is  a  man  who  wore 
the  gray,  there  will  his  name  be  honored  and  revered.  But 
it  is  useless  to  attempt  an  enumeration  of  the  many  enter- 
prises which  he  fostered ;  wherever  there  was  work  to  be 
done  to  promote  the  interest  of  his  city,  his  Stale,  or  his 
country,  he  was  ready  to  give  his  time,  his  labor,  ar.d  his 
money.  But  there  is  another  feature  in  the  life  of  Henry 
Grady  of  which  I  would  speak, — he  was  pre-eminently  a 
man  of  the  times  and  for  the  times,  and  in  this  critical 
juncture  of  our  history  he  seemed  to  have  been  raised  up 
by  a  special  providence  to  carry  the  message  of  the  South 
to  the  people  of  our  common  country ;  his  aspirations  were 
not  only  for  the  success  and  prosperity  of  his  native  sec- 
tion, but  he  desired  to  see  all  the  States  combined  together 
in  a  community  of  interest,  of  prosperity,  of  thought,  of 
aim,  and  of  destiny ;  he  brought  to  the  attention  of  the 
country  the  most  gigantic  problem  of  this  or  any  oilier 
time  ;  he  declared  to  the  people  of  the  North  that  ilie 
white  people  of  the  South  were  one  people  with  those  of 
the  North  ;  that  they  had  the  same  traditions;  the  same 
blood  ;  the  same  love  of  freedom,  and  the  same  lofty  resolve 
to  preserve  their  race  unpolluted  and  free ;  and  he  brought 
to  the  discharge  of  this  duty  such  masterful  eloquence, 
such  sincerity  of  conviction,  such  kindness  of  hearl  and 
liberality  of  thought,  as  to  gain  for  him  not  only  the 


HIS    LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AM)     SI'KKi  HI>.  409 

applanso,  l)ut  the  admiration  and  sympathy  and  attention 
of  the  whole  country.  Though  the  matchless  orator  lies 
still  in  death,  the  South  owes  to  him  a  debt  of  gratitude, 
which  could  not  be  paid  though  a  monument  were  erect. -d 
to  his  memory  higher  than  that  which  rises  in  the  sunlight 
above  Potomac's  wave.  Though  his  voice  be  still,  his 
words,  his  example,  and  his  patriotism  shall  be  cherished 
in  the  hearts  of  many  generations.  If  I  was  asked  to  point 
to  a  man  whose  life  should  stand  as  a  model  to  the  young 
men  of  the  South,  I  would  point  to  that  of  the  young 
Georgian,  who  has  but  so  lately  passed  from  among  us. 

The  city  of  Macon,  which  I  have  the  honor  to  represent, 
may  well  sorrow  with  our  sister  city  of  Atlanta,  and  we 
tender  to  his  bereaved  people  our  heartfelt  sorrow  and 
sympathy.  Henry  Grady  stood  as  a  prophet  on  the  verge 
of  the  promised  land,  bidding  the  Southland  leave  the 
desert  of  reconstruction,  of  gloom  and  poverty  behind  It, 
and  to  enter  with  hope,  and  courage,  and  cheerfulness  upon 
the  ricli  inheritance  that  the  future  holds  in  store  for  us  ; 
and  wherever  truth,  and  courage,  and  unselfish  performance 
of  duty  are  appreciated,  there  will  his  name  find  an  honored 
place  on  the  roll  of  our  country's  great  names.  And  turn- 
ing our  thoughts  and  hearts  toward  his  new-made  grave, 
let  us  say,  "  Peace  to  his  ashes,  and  honor  to  his  memory." 

The  Hon.  R.  W.  Patterson  spoke  as  follows  for  the 
members  of  the  <^hi  Phi  Fraternity  residing  in  Macon : 

ADDRESS   OF   MR.    PATTERSON. 

Ladies  and  Gentlemen  :  When  Death  like  Nature's 
chastening  rod  hath  smitten  our  common  humanity,  we 
realize  the  eternal  truth  that  "  silence  is  the  law  of  being. 
sound  the  breaking  of  the  rule."  Standing  here  as  the 
representative  of  those  who  were  knit  to  the  distinguished 
dead  by  as  close  a  tie  as  that  of  natural  brotherhood,  while 
a  continent  is  yet  vocal  with  the  echoes  of  his  eloquence. 
my  heart  tells  me  that  the  infinite  possibilities  of  silenc.. 
constitute  the  only  worthy  tribute  which  I  can  pay  to  the 


410  HKXIIY    W.    GKADY, 

memory  of  Henry  Grady.  The  most  distinguished  member 
of  our  fraternity  is  lost  to  us  forever.  O,  Death,  there  is 
thy  sting  ;  O,  Grave,  there  is  thy  victory.  Though  our 
ranks  are  full  of  gifted  and  famous  men,  in  all  the  tribes 
of  our  Israel,  there  is  no  Elisha  upon  whom  the  mantle  of 
this  translated  Elijah  can  descend. 

My  fellow  Georgians,  how  shall  I  speak  to  you  of  him  ? 
It  is  meet  that  sympathy  should  veil  her  weeping  eyes, 
when  she  mourns  the  darling  child  who  bore  her  gentle 
image  ever  mirrored  in  his  life.  As  well  may  the  tongue 
speak  when  the  soul  has  departed,  as  Southern  oratory 
declaim  when  Southern  eloquence  is  buried  in  the  grave  of 
Grady.  Even  American  patriotism  is  voiceless  as  she 
stands  beside  the  coffined  chieftain  of  her  fast-assembling 
host.  Was  he  good?  Let  his  neighbors  answer.  To- 
night Atlanta  is  shrouded  in  as  deep  a  pall  as  that  which 
wrapped  Egypt  in  gloom  when  the  angel  of  the  Lord 
smote  the  first-born  in  every  house.  In  the  busiest  city  of 
the  State  the  rattle  of  commerce  to-day  was  suspended,  the 
hum  of  industry  was  hushed,  and  in  that  gay  capital 
bright  pleasure  hath  stayed  her  shining  feet  to  drop  a  tear 
upon  the  grave  of  him  the  people  loved  so  well.  Was  he 
great?  From  the  pinnacle  of  no  official  station  has  he 
fallen  ;  the  pomp  and  circumstance  of  war  did  not  place 
him  upon  a  pedestal  of  prominence ;  no  book  has  he  given 
to  the  literature  of  the  nation  ;  no  wealth  has  he  amassed 
with  which  to  crystalize  his  generosity  into  fame  ;  and  yet 
to-night  a  continent  stands  weeping  by  his  new-made 
grave,  and  as  the  waves  come  laden  with  the  message  of 
the  Infinite  to  the  base  of  the  now  twice  historic  Ply- 
mouth Rock,  the  sympathetic  sobbing  of  the  sea  can  only 
whisper  to  the  stricken  land,  "Peace,  be  still;  my  ever- 
lasting arms  are  round  you." 

His  greatness  cannot  be  measured  by  his  speeches, 
though  they  were  so  masterful  that  they  form  a  portion  of 
his  country's  history.  It  will  rather  be  gauged  by  Hint 
patient,  brilliant  daily  work,  which  made  it  possible  for 
him  to  command  the  nation's  ear,  that  power  of  which 


HIS    LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  411 

these  public  utterances  were  but  the  exponents  ;  his  daily 
toil  in  his  private  sanctum  in  the  stately  building  of  the 
Constitution,  that  magnificent  manufactory  of  public 
thought,  which  he  wielded  as  a  weaver  does  his  shuttl«>. 
A  small  and  scantily  furnished  room,  with  nothing  in  it 
save  Grady,  his  genius  and  his  God, — and  yet  thus  illu- 
mined, it  warmed  with  the  light  of  fraternal  love  both 
sections  of  a  Republic,  compared  to  which  that  of  historic 
Greece  was  but  as  a  perfumed  lamp  to  the  noontide  splen- 
dor of  the  sun.  As  a  journalist  Mr.  Grady  had  no  supe- 
rior in  America.  As  a  writer  he  exercised  the  princely 
prerogative  of  genius  which  is  to  create  and  not  obey 
the  laws  of  rhetoric.  As  well  attempt  to  teach  the  night- 
ingale to  sing  by  note,  or  track  the  summer  lightning  as 
we  do  the  sun,  as  measure  Grady' s  style  by  any  rhetori- 
cian's rule.  I  have  thought  that  Mr.  Grady  was  more  of 
an  orator  than  a  writer,  and  brilliant  as  his  success  in 
journalism  was,  it  was  but  the  moonlight  which 'reflected 
the  sun  that  dawned  only  to  be  obscured  by  death.  Cer- 
tainly no  man  in  any  country  or  in  any  age,  ever  won  fame 
as  an  orator  faster  than  he.  With  a  wide  reputation  as  a 
writer,  but  scarcely  any  as  a  speaker,  even  in  his  own 
State,  he  appeared  one  night  at  a  banquet  in  New  York, 
made  a  speech  of  twenty  minutes,  and  the  next  day  was 
known  throughout  the  United  States  as  the  foremost  of 
Southern  orators.  No  swifter  stride  has  been  mad*-  to 
fame  .since  the  days  of  David,  for  like  that  heroic  strip- 
ling, with  the  sling  of  courage  and  the  stone  of  truth,  he 
slew  Sectionalism,  the  Goliah  which  had  so  long  threat- 
ened and  oppressed  his  people. 

Since  Appomattox  two  historic  speeches  have  been  made 
by  Southern  men  ;  the  one  was  that  delivered  in  the  Con- 
gress of  the  United  States  upon  the  proposition  to  strike 
from  the  general  amnesty  of  the  government  the  name  of 
Jefferson  Davis,  when  Benjamin  II.  Hill  broke  the  kniirht- 
liest  lance  ever  shivered  in  a  people's  honor,  full  on  the 
haughty  crest  of  the  plumed  knight  ;  the  other  was  the 
Boston  speech  of  Mr.  Grady  which,  like  a  niairic  key.  will 


412  IIKXRY   W.    GRADY, 

yet  unlock  the  shackles  that  have  so  long  manacled  a 
people  who,  strangest  paradox  in  history,  were  enslaved  by 
the  emancipation  of  their  slaves.  The  logic  of  Hill  was 
powerful  as  the  club  of  Hercules  ;  the  eloquence  of  Grady 
was  irresistible  as  the  lyre  of  Orpheus. 

My  countrymen,  if  it  shall  be  written  in  the  history  of 
America  that  by  virtue  of  the  genius  of  her  Toombs  and 
Cobb  and  Brown,  on  the  breast  of  our  native  State  was 
cradled  a  revolution  which  rocked  a  continent,  upon 
another  page  of  that  history  it  will  be  recorded  that 
Georgia's  Grady  was  the  Moses  who  led  the  Southern 
people  through  a  wilderness  of  weakness  and  of  want  at 
least  to  the  Pisgah  whence,  with  prophetic  eye,  he  could 
discern  a  New  South  true  to  the  traditions  of  the  past  as 
was  the  steel  which  glittered  on  the  victorious  arm,  at 
Manassas,  but  whose  hopeful  hearts  and  helpful  hands 
shall  transform  desolation  into  wealth  and  convert  the 
defeat  of  one  section  of  our  common  country  into  the 
haughty  herald  of  that  country's  future  rank  in  the  civili- 
zation of  the  world. 

Even,  when  prompted  by  the  tender  relations  of  the 
fraternity  which  I  represent,  I  cannot  trust  myself  to  speak 
of  Mr.  Grady' s  private  and  social  life.  He  was  my  friend. 
Nearly  ten  years  since  his  kindly  glowing  words  revealed 
to  me  an  ambition,  which  I  had  scarcely  dared  to  confess 
unto  myself.  As  the  summer  days  still  linger  with  us,  so 
does  the  daily  intercourse  which  it  was  my  fortune  to  enjoy 
with  him  some  three  months  since — seem  yet  to  "compass 
me  about."  By  the  royal  right  of  intellect  he  commanded 
the  homage  of  my  admiration  ;  with  the  clarion  voice  of 
patriotism  he  challenged  my  reverence,  but  with  the  mag- 
netism of  his  munificent  manhood  he  bade  Confidence,  that 

*  ' 

sentry  which  guards  the  human  heart,  surrender  this  cita- 
del at  discretion.  I  trust  that  it  will  not  be  deemed  inap- 
propriate for  me,  man  of  the  world  as  I  am,  to  bear  my 
public  testimony  to  the  power  of  Christianity  illustrated  in 
his  life.  Familiar  in  his  youth  with  every  phase  of  pleas- 
ure, with  the  affluent  blood  of  early  manhood  yet  running 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  413 

riot  through  his  veins,  with  the  temptations  of  a  continent 
spread  like  a  royal  feast,  to  which  his  talent  and  his  fame 
gave  him  easy  access,  yet  when  he  bowed  his  head  in  rever- 
ence to  the  meek  and  lowly  Nazarene,  his  life  was  the 
unimpeachable  witness  of  his  creed.  A  thousand  sermons 
to  me  were  concentrated  in  the  humanized  Christianity  of 
his  faith  and  his  works.  And  God  was  good  to  him. — The 
magnificent  success  of  the  Piedmont  Exposition  was  to  him 
the  exponent  of  that  industrial  progress  which  he  had 
labored  to  establish.  The  bountiful  harvest  of  this  closing 
year  had  seemed  to  set  the  seal  of  God's  commendation 
upon  his  labors  for  the  agricultural  interests  of  the  South. 
Such  was  his  fame  that  sixty  million  Americans  revered 
him  as  a  patriot.  With  a  wife  beautiful  and  brilliant, 
adoring  him  as  only  a  woman  can  love  a  genius  whom  she 
comprehends  ;  with  two  children  just  verging  into  adoles- 
cence, arid  reverencing  him  as  an  neophyte  does  his  faith  ; 
with  the  highest  official  station  within  his  grasp  ;  with  the 
curule  chair  of  the  Governorship  already  opening  its  arms 
to  receive  him  ;  with  the  future  lifting  the  senatorial  toga 
to  drape  his  eloquence  ;  with  possibilities  of  the  White 
House  flashing  through  the  green  vista  of  the  coming 
years, — with  all  of  these  he  made  no  murmur  at  the  sum- 
mons of  his  God. 

A  widow  weeps  where  yesterday  a  wife  adored.  Two 
orphans  mourn  to-day  where  yesterday  two  children  leaned 
upon  a  father's  arm.  A  nation's  hope  is  turned  to  mourn- 
ing. It  needed  the  great  heart  of  Grady  to  gently  murmur, 
"Thy  will,  not  mine,  be  done." 

But  by  all  that  he  has  accomplished,  and  by  all  that  he 
has  projected,  which  the  coming  years  will  yet  work  out,  I 
tell  you  to-night,  my  fellow  Georgians,  that  Henry  Grady 
still  lives  an  abiding  influence  in  the  destinies  of  his 
country.  Greatest  enemy  of  monopoly  while  he  lived,  the 
grandest  of  all  monopolies  shall  be  his  after  death,  for 
every  industrial  enterprise  hereafter  inaugurated  in  the 
South  must  pay  its  royalty  of  fame  to  him.  Sleep  on,  my 
friend,  my  brother,  brilliant  and  beloved;  let  no 


414  HENRY    \V.    GRADY, 

pered  dream  of  unaccomplished  greatness  haunt  thy  long 
last  sleep.  The  country  that  you  loved,  that  you  redeemed 
and  disenthralled,  will  be  your  splendid  and  ever  growing 
monument,  and  the  blessings  of  a  grateful  people  will  be 
the  grand  inscription,  which  shall  grow  longer  as  that 
monument  rises  higher  among  the  nations  of  the  earth. 
Wherever  the  peach  shall  blush  beneath  the  kisses  of  the 
Southern  sun,  wherever  the  affluent  grape  shall  don  the 
royal  purple  of  Southern  sovereignty,  a  votive  offering  from 
the  one  and  a  rich  libation  from  the  other,  the  grateful 
husbandman  will  tender  unto  you.  The  music  of  no 
machinery  shall  be  heard  within  this  Southland  which  does 
not  chant  a  paean  in  your  praise.  Wherever  Eloquence, 
the  deity  whom  this  people  hath  ever  worshiped,  shall 
retain  a  temple,  no  pilgrim  shall  enter  there,  save  he  bear 
thy  dear  name  as  a  sacred  shibboleth  on  his  lips.  So  long 
as  patriotism  shall  remain  the  shining  angel  who  guards 
the  destinies  of  our  Republic,  her  starry  finger  will  point  to 
Grady  on  Plymouth  Rock,  for  Fame  will  choose  to  chisel 
his  statue  there,  standing  as  the  sentinel  whom  God  had 
placed  to  keep  eternal  watch  over  the  liberties  of  a  re- 
united people ! 

The  exercises  were  concluded  with  the  benediction 
by  the  Rev.  G.  A.  Nunnally,  D.D.,  President  of  Mercer 
University. 


PERSONAL  TRIBUTES. 


THOUGHTS  ON  H.  W.  GRADY. 
BY  B.  H.  SAMETT. 


MEN  of  genius  often  die  early.     Keats  died  at  twenty- 
six,  Shelly  at  thirty,  Byron  at  thirty- six,  and  Burns 
at  thirty-seven.     Henry  Grady  was  born  May  24th,  1850, 
and  hence  was  a  little  more  than  thirty-nine  years  of  age 
at  his  death. 

In  the  opinion  of  many,  no  more  brilliant  man  has  liv'-<l 
since  Byron  died.  In  the  power  of  intense,  beautiful  and 
striking  expression  he  has  had  no  equal  among  us.  Had 
he  turned  his  attention  to  poetry  he  would  have  written 
something  as  beautiful  as  Childe  Harold. 

Take,  for  instance,  a  sentence  or  two,  written  eight  or 
ten  years  ago,  in  an  article  from  New  York  to  the  Conxfi- 
tnt'wn,  entitled  "  The  Atheistic  Tide."  The  whole  article 
is  exceptionally  brilliant.  I  select  at  random  a  paragraph 
or  two  : 

"We  have  stripped  all  the  earth  of  mystery  and 
brought  all  its  phenomena  under  the  square  and  compass, 
so  that  we  might  have  expected  science  to  doubt  the  mys- 
tery of  life  itself,  and  to  plant  its  theodolite  for  a  measure- 
ment of  the  Eternal,  and  pitch  its  crucible  for  an  analysis 
of  the  Soul.  It  was  natural  that  the  Greek  should  be  led 
to  the  worship  of  his  physical  Gods,  for  the  earth  it>.-lf 
was  a  mystery  that  he  could  not  divine,  a  vastness  and  a 
vagueness  that  he  could  not  comprehend.  But  \\t-  have 
fathomed  its  uttermost  secret — felt  its  most  hidden  pulse, 
girdled  it  with  steel,  harnessed  and  trapped  it  to  our 
liking.  What  was  mystery  is  now  demonstration — what 
was  vague  is  now  apparent.  Science  has  dispelled  illusion 
after  illusion,  struck  down  error  after  error,  made  plain  all 

417 


418  HENRY   \V.    GRADY, 

that  was  vague  on  earth  and  reduced  every  mystery  to 
demonstration.  It  is  little  wonder  then  that,  at  last, 
having  reduced  all  the  illusions  of  matter  to  an  equation, 
and  anchored  every  theory  to  a  fixed  formula,  it  should 
assail  the  mystery  of  life  itself  and  warn  the  world  that 
science  would  yet  furnish  the  key  to  the  problem  of  the 
soul.  The  obelisk,  plucked  from  the  heart  of  Egypt,  rests 
upon  a  shore  that  was  as  vaguely  and  infinitely  beyond 
the  knowledge  or  aspiration  of  its  builders,  as  the  shores 
of  a  star  that  lights  the  spaces  beyond  our  vision  are  to  us 
to-day.  The  Chinaman  jostles  us  in  the  streets,  and  the 
centuries  that  look  through  his  dreamy  eyes  have  lost  all 
sense  of  wonder — ships  that  were  freighted  in  the  heart  of 
Africa  lie  in  our  harbors,  and  our  market  places  are  vocal 
with  more  tongues  than  bewildered  the  builders  of  Babel— 
a  letter  slips  round  the  earth  in  ninety  days  and  the  mes- 
sages of  men  flash  along  the  bed  of  the  ocean — we  tell  the 
secrets  of  the  universe  as  a  woman  tells  her  beads,  and 
the  stars  whirl  serenely  through  orbits  that  science  has 
defined — we  even  read  of  the  instant  when  the  comet  that 
plunged  in  dim  illimitable  distance,  where  even  the  sep- 
arate stars  are  lost  in  mist  and  vapor,  shall  whirl  again  into 
the  vision  of  man,  a  wanderer  that  could  not  shake  off  the 
inexorable  supervision  of  science,  even  in  the  chill  and 
measureless  depths  of  the  universe." 

This  brilliancy,  this  dazzling,  meteoric  imagination,  made 
against  his  reputation  in  the  earlier  years  of  his  career. 
The  impression  got  abroad  that  he  was  simply  fanciful  and 
superficial — that  he  could  paint  his  productions  in  the 
gorgeous  imagery  of  poetry,  but  that  he  had  no  great  intel- 
lectual strength  and  force.  It  took  some  time  to  dispel 
this  illusion.  It  was  only  after  the  great  breadth  of  his 
mind  displayed  itself  in  his  powerful  speeches  in  New 
York,  Dallas,  Tex.,  Augusta,  Ga.,  and  Boston,  that  the 
public  began  to  see  that,  back  behind  his  rich  and  brilliant 
imagination,  there  was  a  masterful  intellect,  able  to  com- 
prehend the  profoundest  questions  of  social  and  political 
policy. 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  419 

His  development  as  an  orator  was  indeed  phenomenal. 
Nothing  has  ever  been  known  like  it  since  Sheridan  quit 
play- writing  to  enter  the  English  House  of  Commons,  and 
delivered,  according  to  the  judgment  of  Fox  and  Burke,  the 
most  eloquent  oration  ever  spoken  to  an  Kn^lish  audr 
Grady's  whole  preparation  had  been  in  the  line  of  journal- 
ism. He  had  never  practiced  at  the  bar,  in  the  forum,  or 
on  the  hustings.  Yet  such  was  his  genius,  that,  from  the 
very  moment  he  got  before  the  American  public,  he  leaped 
from  the  base  to  the  very  summit  of  oratorical  fame. 

His  oratory  was  sue  generis.  Like  all  great  men  he 
had  no  prototype.  There  was  nothing  sonorous  in 
his  tones  of  voice — he  had  nothing  of  the  declammatory 
pomp  of  Toombs,  the  stately  periods  of  Hill,  the  slow, 
measured  cadences  of  Stephens.  Like  Mark  Antony  he 
talked  along;  but  such  talk — as  sweet  as  the  harp  of  Orpheus 
whose  melody  swayed  the  trees  of  the  forest  and  rent 
asunder  the  solid  rocks.  Like  a  fountain  unsealed,  his 
thought  flowed  forth  in  gushing  opulence,  and  in  every 
rhythmic  period  his  soul  voiced  itself  in  perfect  music.  He 
could  awake  all  the  sleeping  passions  of  the  heart  and  set 
them  astir  with  his  own  enthusiasm.  Like  a  pendulum, 
he  swung  betwixt  a  smile  and  a  tear,  now  convulsing  all 
with  his  humor  and  anon  melting  all  with  his  pathos. 

Added  to  such  brilliant  gifts  as  a  writer  and  a  speaker, 
he  had  the  genius  of  common  sense.  He  could  project  a 
movement  of  great  practical  interest,  and  perfect  and 
accomplish  it  with  the  same  marvellous  facility  that  he 
could  indite  a  morning  editorial.  He  saw  in  our  uncut 
quarries  the  marble  halls  and  palaces  of  the  rich — in  our 
mountains  of  ore  the  matchless  steam  engines  and  their 
tracks  of  steel  along  which  our  growing  commerce  was  to 
be  borne  to  the  distant  marts  of  the  world— in  our  wavinir 
forests  of  pine,  the  cities  of  majestic  splendor  and  beauty 
that  were  to  adorn  and  enrich  our  vast  domain.  As 
Webster  said  of  Hamilton,  in  reJVivno'  to  the  public  credit, 
he  touched  the  dead  corpse  of  our  industries  and  they  arose 
and  stood  upon  their  feet. 


420  H  i:\UY    W.    GRADY, 

To  all  these  gifts  of  head,  there  was  an  added  heart  of 
boundless  sympathies.  In  his  writings  there  is  always  an 
undertone  of  sentiment,  bespeaking  a  moral  nature  as 
opulent  as  was  his  intellectual  endowment.  His  imagi- 
nation caught  up  the  good,  the  beautiful  and  the  true. 
With  the  alchemy  of  his  genius  he  could  transmute  the 
simplest  flower  into  a  preacher  of  righteousness,  and  get 
from  it  some  lessons  of  wisdom  and  truth.  To  lift  up  and 
crown  humanity  was  the  supremest  aspiration  of  his  life. 
This  ruling  passion  was  strong  in  death,  and  even  in  the 
delirium  preceding  dissolution,  his  brain  was  rife  with  its 
own  desiring  phantasies,  and  he  died  in  the  midst  of 
dreams  born  of  yearnings  to  help  and  bless  the  needy  and 
the  heavy  laden. 

Perhaps  no  one  has  lived  among  us  who  possessed  more 
of  the  elements  which  go  to  make  up  the  hero,  the  popular 
idol.  Noble  in  presence,  gracious  in  manner,  gentle  in 
spirit,  manly  in  everything,  he  commanded  not  only  the 
admiration  but  the  love  of  all.  If  all  who  tenderly  loved 
him  could  lay  a  garland  upon  his  grave  his  ashes  would 
rest  beneath  a  mountain  of  flowers. 

To  die  so  wept  and  mourned  were  more  to  be  desired 
than  the  glittering  honors  of  splendid  obsequies.  To  live, 
as  he  will  live,  embalmed  in  the  immortality  of  love,  is 
better  far  than  enshrinement  in  the  cold  emblazonry  of 
marble. 

Loving  hands  and  hearts  will  erect  to  his  memory  the 
granite  shaft,  cut  and  chiselled  with  words  of  eulogy,  but 
his  most  enduring  monument  is  his  grand,  historic  life, 
standing  out  imperishably  based  upon  the  affections  and 
the  love  of  a  grateful  people,  and  pointing  unborn  gene- 
rations to  the  same  heights  of  purity  and  honor  he  so 
worthily  attained. 


HIS    LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SI'LKt  II  421 


SEARGENT  S.  PRENTISS  AND  HENRY  W.  GRADY. 

SIMILARITY  OF  GENIUS  AND  PATRIOTISM. 

BY  JOSEPH  P.  PON. 


HISTORY  repeats  itself,  and  genius  does  the  same. 
The  light  which  shines  with  electric  brilliancy  in  one 
portion  of  a  country,  though  suddenly  extinguished,  soon 
blazes  forthwith  life  and  hope,  in  genial  air  and  un<  In- 
propitious  skies. 

Eminent  in  illustration  of  this  truth,  is  the  very  great 
similarity  in  the  mental  structure,  the  physical  tempera- 
ment and  the  personal  qualities  of  Seargent  S.  Prentiss 
and  Henry  W.  Grady.  The  first  was  born  in  bleak  and 
sterile  Maine,  and  yet  his  great  heart  was  not  hemmed  in 
by  the  hills  around  which  clung  the  memories  of  his  Pil- 
grim fathers.  It  took  within  its  spacious  chambers,  and 
nurtured  in  patriotic  affection  the  new-found  friends  of  his 
adopted  home,  in  the  semi-tropical  valleys  of  the  low»-r 
Mississippi.  The  other  was  born  on  Georgia  soil,  and 
Southern  traditions,  memories  and  methods  of  thought 
seemed  but  a  second  nature  with  him.  It  did  not  prevent 
his  fullness  to  the  brim  with  that  Promethean  ilanip  and 
"  milk  of  human  kindness,"  which  caused  him  inbound- 
less  Americanism,  to  wear  a  constant  smile,  born  of  infinite 
hope  and  faith  in  the  future  of  a  great  Republic,  stretch- 
ing from  the  rugged  coast  of  Maine  to  the  broad  plazas  of 
Texas — from  the  noble  forests  of  Oregon  to  the  coral  reefs 
of  Florida. 

Each  of  these  men  combined  with  deep  research  and 
intuitive  perception,  an  imagination  as  luxuriant  a--  a  trop- 
ical garden,  and  while  each  put  fortli  "thoughts  that 
breathed  in  words  that  burned/'  he  was  .-vn  caivful  in  the 
exercise  of  his  great  gifts,  that  they  should  al\\a\>  !»• 


422  HENRY    W.    GRADY, 

directed  in  the  promotion  of  human  happiness,  and  to  stim- 
ulate the  loftiest  human  exertion.  When  Prentiss  or 
Grady  spoke  every  listener  felt  the  touch  of  the  master- 
hand  as  it  played  upon  his  heart-strings — felt  the  tingling 
of  the  blood  in  his  fingers'  ends,  and  could  not  fail  to  enjoy 
the  delightful  silence  of  universal  and  spontaneous  admir- 
ation. The  eloquence  of  these  two  men  was  not  of  that 
school  which  deals  in  thundergusts  of  word-painting, 
devoid  of  reason,  sense,  or  consistency.  Their  ideas  are 
always  comely,  well-proportioned,  clear  in  outline  and  yet 
not  angular  in  structure.  They  spoke  for  God  and  human- 
ity— for  liberty — for  love — for  law.  They  did  not  pervert 
their  great  gifts  from  the  purposes  that  Nature  intended. 
They  used  their  magic  power  to  smooth  and  soften  the 
rough,  hard  places  of  human  life,  to  promote  all  ends  and 
objects  catholic,  worthy,  commendable — to  charm  and  per- 
suade the  morose  and  unwilling — to  denounce  like  Nathan — 
to  warn  like  Cassandra — to  encourage  like  an  angel  of  light. 
When  either  of  them  spoke,  he  seemed  to  realize  the  sub- 
limest  purpose  of  his  mission ;  and  condensed  his  giant 
electric  power,  as  the  heat  charges  the  summer  cloud  with 
the  bolts  that  are  soon  to  flash  and  shiver. 

Prentiss  died  in  the  same  year  that  Grady  was  born ; 
and  when  he  first  closed  his  brilliant  career  at  forty-two 
years  of  age,  the  second  was  but  a  smiling  infant  six  weeks 
old.  Each,  cut  off  before  he  had  reached  the  zenith,  was 

A  mighty  vessel  foundered  in  the  calm, 
Its  freight  half  given  to  the  world. 

The  glorious  sun  of  each  "went  down  while  it  was  yet  day." 
Some  extracts  are  here  given,  from  an  address  delivered 
by  Prentiss  before  the  New  England  Society  of  New  Orleans, 
on  December  22, 1845.  These  will  be  followed  by  some  from 
Grady's  Boston  speech.  Prentiss  at  the  time  named,  was 
about  the  same  age  that  Grady  was  when  he  died.  In 
opening  Prentiss  said  :  "This  is  a  day  dear  to  the  sons  of 
New  England,  and  ever  held  by  them  in  sacred  remem- 
brance. On  this  day,  from  every  quarter  of  the  globe,  they 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES. 

gather  in  spirit  around  the  Rock  of  Plymouth,  and  hang 
upon  the  urn  of  their  Pilgrim  fathers,  the  garlands  of 
filial  gratitude  and  affection.  We  have  assembled  for  the 
purpose  of  participating  in  this  honorable  duty — of  pi-r- 
forming  this  pious  pilgrimage.  To-day  we  will  visit  that 
memorable  spot.  We  gaze  upon  the  place  where  a  feeble 
band  of  persecuted  exiles  founded  a  mighty  nation ;  and 
our  hearts  will  exult  with  proud  gratification,  as  we  reni'-in- 
ber  that  on  that  barren  shore  our  ancestors  planted  not  only 
empire,  but  freedom. 

"  Of  the  future  but  little  is  known  ;  clouds  and  darkness 
rest  upon  it.  We  yearn  to  become  acquainted  with  its 
hidden  secrets— we  stretch  out  our  arms  toward  its  shadowy 
inhabitants — we  invoke  our  posterity,  but  they  answer  us 
not.  We  turn  for  relief  to  the  past,  that  mighty  reservoir 
of  men  and  things.  There  we  are  introduced  into  Nature's 
vast  laboratory,  and  witness  her  elemental  labors.  We 
mark  with  interest  the  changes  in  continents  and  oceans, 
by  which  she  has  notched  the  centuries.  With  curious 
wonder  we  gaze  down  the  long  aisles  of  the  past,  upon  the 
generations  that  are  gone.  We  behold  as  in  a  magic  g 
men  in  form  and  feature  like  ourselves,  actuated  by  the 
same  motives,  urged  by  the  same  passions,  busily  engaged 
in  shaping  out  both  their  own  destinies  and  ours.  Wo 
approach  them,  and  they  refuse  not  our  invocation.  We 
hold  converse  with  the  wise  philosophers,  the  sage  legis- 
lators, and  divine  poets.  But  most  of  all  among  the 
innumerable  multitudes  that  peopled  the  past,  we  seek  our 
own  ancestors,  drawn  toward  them  by  an  irresistable  sym- 
pathy. With  reverent  solicitude  we  examine  into  th»-ir 
character  and  actions,  and  as  we  find  them  worthy  or 
unworthy,  our  hearts  swell  with  pride  or  our  cheeks  glow 
with  shame." 

Speaking  of  the  simplicity  of  the  Pilgrim  habits.  Pivntiss 
goes  on:  "In  founding  their  colony  they  sought  in-ither 
wealth  nor  conquest ;  but  only  peace  and  freedom.  From 
the  moment  they  touched  the  shore,  they  hiboivd  \\ith 
orderly,  systematic  and  persevering  industry.  They  culti- 


424  JIKNKY    \V.    GRADY, 

vated,  without  a  murmur,  a  poor  and  ungrateful  soil,  which 
even  now  yields  but  a  stubborn  obedience  to  the  dominion 
of  the  plow.  They  brought  with  them  neither  wealth  nor 
power,  but  the  principles  of  civil  and  religious  freedom. 
They  cherished,  cultivated  and  developed  them  to  a  full 
and  luxuriant  maturity  ;  and  furnished  them  to  their  pos- 
terity as  the  only  sure  "and  permanent  foundations  for 
free  government.  We  are  proud  of  our  native  land,  and 
turn  with  fond  affection  to  its  rocky  shores.  Behold  the 
thousand  temples  of  the  Most  High,  that  nestle  in  its  happy 
valleys  and  crown  its  swelling  hills.  See  how  their  glitter- 
ing spires  pierce  the  sky — celestial  conductors  ready  to 
avert  the  lightning  of  an  angry  heaven  !  " 

Himself  the  son  of  a  ship-builder,  he  thus  speaks  of 
the  enterprise  of  the  Pilgrims  :  "  They  have  wrestled  with 
Nature,  till  they  have  prevailed  against  her,  and  compelled 
her  reluctantly  to  reverse  her  own  laws.  The  sterile  soil 
has  become  productive  under  their  sagacious  culture,  and 
the  barren  rock,  astonished,  finds  itself  covered  with  luxu- 
riant and  unaccustomed  verdure.  Upon  the  banks  of  every 
river  they  build  temples  of  industry,  and  stop  the  squan- 
derings of  the  spendthrift  waters.  They  bind  the  Naiades 
of  the  brawling  stream ;  they  drwe  the  Dryades  from 
their  accustomed  haunts,  and  force  them  to  desert  each 
favorite  grove :  for  from  river,  creek,  and  bay  they  are 
busy  transforming  the  crude  forests  into  staunch  and  gal- 
lant vessels.  From  every  inlet  and  indenture  along  the 
rocky  shore,  swim  forth  these  ocean-birds — born  in  the 
wildwood — fledged  upon  the  wave.  Behold  how  they 
spread  their  white  pinions  to  the  favoring  breeze,  and  wing 
their  flight  to  every  quarter  of  the  globe — the  carrier  pig- 
eons of  the  world !  " 

But  lastly  how  brimming  with  pathos,  how  pregnant 
with  patriotic  ardor,  is  the  following:  "Glorious  New 
England  !  Thou  art  still  true  to  thy  ancient  fame,  and 
worthy  of  thy  ancestral  honors.  We  thy  children  have 
assembled  in  this  far-distant  land  to  celebrate  thy  birth- 
day. A  thousand  fond  associations  throng  upon  us,  roused 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPKi:<  ]•  425 

by  the  spirit  of  the  hour.  On  thy  pleasant  valleys  rest, 
like  sweet  dews  of  the  morning,  the  gentle  recollections  of 
our  early  life  ;  around  thy  hills  and  mountains  cling  like 
gathering  mists  the  mighty  memories  of  the  Revolution  ; 
and  far  away  on  the 'horizon  of  the  past,  gleam  like  thine 
own  Northern  lights,  the  awful  virtues  of  our  Pilgrim  sires. 
But  while  we  devote  this  day  to  the  remembrance  of  o in- 
native  land,  we  forget  not  that  in  which  our  happy  lot  is 
cast.  We  exult  in  the  reflection  that,  though  we  count  by 
thousands  the  miles  which  separate  us  from  our  birth- 
place, still  our  country  is  the  same.  We  have  but  changed 
our  chamber  in  the  paternal  mansion  ;  in  all  its  rooms  \\ ••• 
are  at  home,  and  all  who  inhabit  it  are  our  brothers.  We 
are  no  exiles  meeting  upon  the  banks  of  a  foreign  liver,  to 
swell  its  waters  with  our  home-sick  tears.  Here  floats  the 
same  banner  which  nestled  above  our  boyish  heads,  except 
that  its  mighty  folds  are  wider,  and  its  glittering  stars 
increased  in  number." 

The  sound  of  this  eloquent  tongue  was  stilled,  but  the 
u  divine  afflatus"  with  which  it  was  tuned  was  transferred 
to,  and  continued  in  another.  Near  the  birthplace  of  the 
noble  Prentiss,  and  surrounded  by  those  who  were  proud 
of  his  fame,  Grady  referred  to  those  surroundings  and  the 
objects  of  his  visit,  when  he  said  :  "  Happy  am  I  that  this 
mission  has  brought  my  feet  at  last  to  press  New  England's 
historic  soil,  and  my  eyes  to  the  knowledge  of  her  beauty 
and  her  thrift.  Here  within  touch  of  Plymouth  Rock  and 
Bunker  Hill — where  Webster  thundered  and  Longfellow 
sang,  Emerson  thought,  and  Channing  preached — here  in 
the  cradle  of  American  letters,  and  almost  of  American 
liberty,  I  hasten  to  make  the  obeisance  that  every  Ameri- 
can owes  New7  England,  when  first  he  stands  uncovered  in 
her  mighty  presence.  Strange  apparition  !  This  stern  and 
unique  figure,  carved  from  the  ocean  and  the  wilderness, 
its  majesty  kindling  and  growing  amid  the  storms  of  win- 
ters and  of  wars, — until  at  last  the  gloom  was  broken,  its 
beauty  disclosed  in  the  sunshine,  and  the  heroic  woi 
rested  at  its  base, — while  startled  kings  and  emperors  ga/.'-d 


426  HENRY   W.    ORADY, 

and  marveled  that  from  the  rude  touch  of  this  handful, 
cast  on  a  bleak  and  unknown  shore,  should  have  come  the 
embodied  genius  of  human  government,  and  the  perfected 
model  of  human  liberty  !  God  bless  the  memory  of  those 
immortal  workers,  and  prosper  the  fortunes  of  their  living 
sons,  and  perpetuate  the  inspiration  of  their  handiwork." 

Faithful  to  the  memories  of  his  childhood,  and  to  the 
devotion  of  his  mature  years,  visions  of  his  distant  home 
rise  to  his  mental  eye,  and  with  a  masters  magic  touch  he 
spreads  the  picture  on  the  glowing  canvas:  "Far  to  the 
South,  Mr.  President,  separated  from  this  section  by  a  line 
once  defined  in  irrepressible  difference,  once  traced  in  frat- 
ricidal blood,  and  now,  thank  God,  but  a  vanishing  shadow, 
lies  the  fairest  and  richest  domain  of  this  earth.  It  is  the 
home  of  a  brave  and  hospitable  people.  There  is  centered 
all  that  can  please  or  prosper  human  kind.  A  perfect  cli- 
mate above  a  fertile  soil,  yields  to  the  husbandman  every 
product  of  the  temperate  zone.  There,  by  night,  the  cotton 
whitens  beneath  the  stars,  and  the  wheat  locks  the  sunshine 
in  its  bearded  sheaf.  In  the  same  field  the  clover  steals  the 
fragrance  of  the  wind,  and  the  tobacco  catches  the  quick 
aroma  of  the  rains." 

In  speaking  of  southern  citizenship,  and  the  perils  of  its 
present  environment,  Grady  says:  "The  resolute,  clear- 
headed, broad-minded  men  of  the  South,  the  men  whose 
genius  made  glorious  every  page  of  the  first  seventy  years  of 
American  history — whose  courage  and  fortitude  you  tested 
in  five  years  of  the  fiercest  war — whose  energy  has  made 
bricks  without  straw,  and  spread  splendor  amidst  the  ashes 
of  their  war- wasted  homes — these  men  wear  this  problem 
in  their  hearts  and  their  brains,  by  day  and  by  night. 
They  realize,  as  you  cannot,  what  this  problem  means, 
what  they  owe  to  this  kindly  and  dependent  race,  the 
measure  of  their  debt  to  the  world  in  whose  despite  they 
defended  and  maintained  slavery.  And  though  their  feet 
are  hindered  in  its  undergrowth,  and  their  march  encum- 
bered with  its  burdens,  they  have  lost  neither  the  patience 
from  which  comes  clearness,  nor  the  faith  from  which  comes 
courage.  Nor,  sir,  when  in  passionate  moments  is  disclosed 


HIS   LIFK,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  427 

to  them  that  vague  and  awful  shadow,  with  its  lurid  abysses 
and  its  crimson  stains,  into  which  I  pray  God  they  may 
never  go,  are  they  struck  with  more  of  apprehension  than 
is  needed  to  complete  their  consecration  !  " 

The  conclusion  of  that  grand  address,  so  powerful  in 
scope  and  faultless  in  diction,  is  a  forcible  reminder  of 
Webster's  great  peroration  in  his  reply  to  Hayne  on  Foot's 
Resolution.  Grady  here  says :  "  A  mighty  duty,  sir,  and 
a  mighty  inspiration  impels  every  one  of  us  to-night  to 
lose  in  patriotic  consecration  whatever  estranges,  whatever 
divides.  We,  sir,  are  Americans,  and  we  fight  for  human 
liberty.  The  uplifting  force  of  the  American  idea  is  under 
every  throne  on  earth.  France,  Brazil — these  are  our  vic- 
tories. To  redeem  the  earth  from  kingcraft  and  oppression, 
this  is  our  mission.  And  we  shall  not  fail.  God  has  sown 
in  our  soil  the  seed  of  his  millennial  harvest,  and  he  will 
not  lay  the  sickle  to  the  ripening  crop  until  his  full  and 
perfect  day  has  come.  Our  history,  sir,  has  been  a  con- 
stant and  expanding  miracle  from  Plymouth  Rock  and 
Jamestown,  all  the  way,  aye,  even  from  the  hour  when, 
from  the  voiceless  and  trackless  ocean,  a  new  world  rose  to 
the  sight  of  the  inspired  sailor.  As  we  approach  the  fourt  h 
centennial  of  that  stupendous  day — when  the  old  world  will 
come  to  marvel  and  to  learn,  amid  our  gathered  treasures- 
let  us  resolve  to  crown  the  miracles  of  our  past  with  the 
spectacle  of  a  Republic  compact,  united,  indissoluble  in  the 
bonds  of  love — loving  from  the  Lakes  to  the  Gulf — the 
wounds  of  war  healed  in  every  heart  as  on  every  hill, 
serene  and  resplendent  at  the  summit  of  human  achieve- 
ment and  earthly  glory,  blazing  out  the  path  and  making 
clear  the  way  up  which  all  the  nations  of  the  earth  must 
come  in  God's  appointed  time  !  " 

The  love  and  respect  of  the  Mississippians  and  Louis- 
ianans,  and  of  the  entire  Southwest  for  Prentiss  was  only 
equaled  by  the  admiration  of  the  North  for  Grady.  All 
honor  to  their  memories,  and  peace  to  their  patriot  shades  ! 
The  "clods  of  the  valley  will  be  sweet  unto  them"  until 
the  resurrection  morn. 

COLUMBUS,  GA.,  Feb.  5,  1890. 


428  HENRY   W.    GRADY, 


SERMON  BY  T.  DE  WITT  TALMAGE. 


THE  great  Academy  of  Music,  Brooklyn,  N.  Y.,  was 
crowded  to-day,  February  23,  as  it  never  had  been 
before.  Prominent  in  the  congregation  were  most  of  the 
gentlemen  who  had  attended  the  banquet  of  the  Southern 
Society.  Their  presence  was  due  to  the  intimation  that 
Dr.  Talmage  was  going  to  preach  on  the  life  and  character 
of  the  Constitution* s  late  editor,  Mr.  Henry  W.  Grady. 
Dr.  Talmage  was  at  his  best,  in  splendid  voice,  and  his 
rounded  periods  made  a  deep  impression  upon  all  present. 
Taking  for  his  text  Isaiah  viii.,  1,  "Take  thee  a  great  roll, 
and  write  in  it  with  a  man's  pen,"  the  preacher  said  : 

To  Isaiah,  with  royal  blood  in  his  veins  and  a  habitant 
of  palaces,  does  this  divine  order  come.  He  is  to  take  a 
roll,  a  large  roll,  and  write  on  it  with  a  pen,  not  an  angel's 
pen,  but  a  man's  pen.  So  God  honored  the  pen  and  so  he 
honored  the  manuscript.  In  our  day  the  mightiest  roll  is 
the  religious  and  secular  newspaper,  and  the  mightiest  pen 
is  the  editor's  pen,  whether  for  good  or  evil.  And  God 
says  now  to  every  literary  man,  and  especially  to  every 
journalist :  "  Take  thee  a  great  roll  and  write  in  it  with  a 
man's  pen." 

THE  NEWS   ON  THE  MEDITERRANEAN. 

Within  a  few  weeks  one  of  the  strongest,  most  vivid 
and  most  brilliant  of  those  pens  was  laid  down  on  the  edi- 
torial desk  in  Atlanta,  never  again  to  be  resumed.  I  was 
far  away  at  the  time.  We  had  been  sailing  up  from  the 
Mediterranean  Sea,  through  the  Dardanelles,  which  region 
is  unlike  anything  I  ever  saw  for  beauty.  There  is  not  any 
other  water  scenery  on  earth  where  God  has  done  so  many 
picturesque  things  with  islands.  They  are  somewhat  like 
the  Thousand  Islands  of  our  American  St.  Lawrence,  but 


HIS    LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND    SPEECHES.  429 

more  like  heaven.  Indeed,  we  had  just  passed  Patmos,  the 
place  from  which  John  had  his  apocalyptic  vision.  Con- 
stantinople h'ad  seemed  to  come  out  to  greet  us,  for  your 
approach  to  that  city  is  different  from  any  other  city.  Other 
cities  as  you  approach  them  seem  to  retire,  but  this  city, 
with  its  glittering  minarets  and  pinnacles,  seems  almost  to 
step  into  the  water  to  greet  you.  But  my  landing  there, 
that  would  have  been  to  me  an  exhilaration,  was  suddenly 
stunned  with  the  tidings  of  the  death  of  my  intimate  friend, 
Henry  W.  Grady.  I  could  hardly  believe  the  tidings,  for 
I  had  left  on  my  study  table  at  home  letters  and  telegrams 
from  him,  those  letters  and  telegrams  having  a  warmth 
and  geniality,  and  a  wit  such  as  he  alone  could  express. 
The  departure  of  no  public  man  for  many  years  has  so 
affected  me.  For  days  I  walked  about  as  in  a  dream,  and 
I  resolved  that,  getting  home,  I  would,  for  the  sake  of  his 
bereaved  household,  and  for  the  sake  of  his  bereaved  pro- 
fession, and  for  the  sake  of  what  he  had  been  to  me,  and 
shall  continue  to  be  as  long  as  memory  lasts,  I  would  speak 
a  word  in  appreciation  of  hiin,  the  most  promising  of 
Americans,  and  learn  some  of  the  salient  lessons  of  his 
departure. 

I  have  no  doubt  that  he  had  enemies,  for  no  man  can 
live  such  an  active  life  as  he  lived,  or  be  so  far  in  advance 
of  his  time  without  making  enemies,  some  because  he 
defeated  their  projects,  and  some  because  he  outshone  them. 
Owls  and  bats  never  did  like  the  rising  sun.  But  I  shall 
tell  you  how  he  appeared  to  me.  and  I  am  glad  that  I  told 
him  while  he  was  in  full  health  what  I  thought  of  him. 
Memorial  orations  and  gravestone  epitaphs  are  often  mean 
enough,  for  they  say  of  a  man  after  he  is  dead  that  which 
ought  to  have  been  said  of  him  while  living.  One  garland 
for  a  living  brow  is  worth  more  than  a  mountain  of  japon- 
icas  and  calla  lilies  heaped  on  a  funeral  casket.  1>\  a 
little  black  volume  of  fifty  pages,  containing  the  eulogiums 
and  poems  uttered  and  written  at  the  demise  of  Clay  and 
Webster  and  Calhoun  and  Lincoln  and  Sumner,  the  world 
tried  to  pay  for  the  forty  years  of  obloquy  it  heaped  upon 


430  IIKNRY    W.    GRADY, 

those  living  giants.  If  I  say  nothing  in  praise  of  a  man 
while  IK-  lives  I  will  keep  silent  when  he  is  dead.  Myrtle 
and  weeping  willow  can  never  do  what  ought  to  have  been 
done  by  amaranth  and  palm  branch.  No  amount  of 
"Dead  March  in  Saul1'  rumbling  from  big  organs  at  the 
obsequies  can  atone  for  non-appreciation  of  the  man  before 
he  fell  on  sleep.  The  hearse  cannot  do  what  ought  to  Lave 
been  done  by  chariot.  But  there  are  important  things  that 
need  to  be  said  about  our  friend,  who  was  a  prophet  in 
American  journalism,  and  who  only  a  few  years  ago  heard 
the  command  of  my  text:  "Take  thee  a  great  roll,  and 
write  in  it  with  a  man's  pen." 

A   RETROSPECT   OF   LIFE. 

His  father  dead,  Henry  W.  Grady,  a  boy  fourteen  years 
of  age,  took  up  the  battle  of  life.  It  would  require  a  long 
chapter  to  record  the  names  of  orphans  who  have  come  to 
the  top.  When  God  takes  away  the  head  of  the  household 
He  very  often  gives  to  some  lad  in  that  household  a  special 
qualification.  Christ  remembers  how  that  His  own  father 
died  early,  leaving  Him  to  support  Himself  and  His  mother 
and  His  brothers  in  the  carpenter's  shop  at  Nazareth,  and 
He  is  in  sympathy  with  all  boys  and  all  young  men  in  the 
struggle.  You  say:  "Oh,  if  my  father  had  only  lived  I 
would  have  had  a  better  education  and  I  would  have  had  a 
more  promising  start,  and  there  are  some  wrinkles  on  my 
brow  that  would  not  have  been  there."  But  I  have  noticed 
that  God  makes  a  special  way  for  orphans.  You  would 
not  have  been  half  the  man  you  are  if  you  had  not  been 
obliged  from  your  early  days  to  fight  your  own  battles. 
What  other  boys  got  out  of  Yale  and  Harvard  you  got  in 
the  university  of  hard  knocks.  Go  among  successful  mer- 
chants, lawyers,  physicians  and  men  of  all  occupations  and 
professions,  and  there  are  many  of  them  who  will  tell  you : 
"At  ten,  or  twelve,  or  fifteen  years  of  age,  I  started  for 
myself  ;  father  was  sick,  or  father  was  dead."  But  some- 
how they  got  through  and  got  up.  I  account  for  it 
by  the  fact  that  there  is  a  special  dispensation  of  God 


HIS    LIFK,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEKrii  431 

for  orphans.  All  hail,  the  fatherless  and  motherless ! 
The  Lord  Almighty  will  see  you  tli rough.  Early  obstacles 
fur  Mr.  (Irady  were  only  the  means  for  development  of  his 
intellect  and  heart.  And  lo  !  when  at  thirty-nine  v»-;u>  of 
age  he  put  down  his  pen  and  closed  his  lips  for  the  perpet- 
ual silence,  he  had  done  a  work  which  many  a  man  who 
lives  on  to  sixty  and  seventy  and  eighty  years  never 
accomplishes.  There  is  a  great  deal  of  senseless  praise  of 
longevity,  as  though  it  were  a  wonderful  achievement  to 
live  a  good  while.  Ah,  my  friends,  it  is  not  how  long  we 
live,  but  how  well  we  live  and  how  usefully  we  live.  A 
man  who  lives  to  eighty  years  and  accomplishes  nothing  for 
God  or  humanity  might  better  have  never  lived  at  all. 
Methuselah  lived  nine  hundred  and  sixty-nine  years,  and 
what  did  it  amount  to  ?  In  all  those  more  than  nine  cen- 
turies he  did  not  accomplish  anything  which  seemed  worth 
record.  Paul  lived  only  a  little  more  than  sixty,  but  how 
many  Methuselahs  would  it  take  to  make  one  Paul?  Who 
would  not  rather  have  Paul's  sixty  years  than  Methuselah's 
nine  hundred  and  sixty-nine  ?  Robert  McCheyne  died  at 
thirty  years  of  age  and  John  Summer-field  at  twenty-seven 
years  of  age,  but  neither  earth  nor  heaven  will  ever  hear  the 
end  of  their  usefulness.  Longevity !  Why,  an  elephant 
can  beat  you  at  that,  for  it  lives  a  hundred  and  fifty  and 
two  hundred  years.  Gray  hairs  are  the  blossoms  of  the 
tree  of  life  if  found  in  the  way  of  righteousness,  but  the 
frosts  of  the  second  death  if  found  in  the  way  of  sin. 

MR.    GRADY   AS   A   CHRISTIAN. 

One  of  our  able  New  York  journals  last  spring  printed 
a  question  and  sent  it  to  many  people,  and,  among  others, 
to  myself:  "Can  the  editor  of  a  secular  journal  be  a 
Christian?"  Some  of  the  newspapers  answered  no.  I 
answered  yes  ;  and,  lest  you  may  not  understand  ni«\  1  say 
yes  again.  Summer  before  last,  riding  with  Mr.  (Jrady 
from  a  religious  meeting  in  Georgia  on  Sunday  night.  he 
said  to  me  some  things  which  I  now  reveal  for  the  first 
time,  because  it  is  approyriate  now  that  I  reveal  them. 


432  HKNRY    W.    GRADY, 

He  expressed  his  complete  faitli  in  the  gospel,  and  expressed 
his  astonishment  and  his  grief  that  in  our  day  so  man  y  young 
men  were  rejecting  Christianity.  From  the  earnestness 
and  the  tenderness  and  the  confidence  with  which  he  spoke 
on  these  things  I  concluded  that  when  Henry  W.  Grady 
made  public  profession  of  his  faith  in  Christ,  and  took  his 
place  at  the  holy  communion  in  the  Methodist  Church,  he 
was  honestly  and  truly  Christian.  That  conversation  that 
Sunday  night,  first  in  the  carriage  and  then  resumed  in  the 
hotel,  impressed  me  in  such  a  way  that  when  I  simply 
heard  of  his  departure,  without  any  of  the  particulars,  I 
concluded  that  he  was  ready  to  go.  I  warrant  there  was 
no  fright  in  the  last  exigency,  but  that  he  found  what  is 
commonly  called  "the  last  enemy"  a  good  friend,  and 
from  his  home  on  earth  he  went  to  a  home  in  heaven.  Yes, 
.Mr.  Grady  not  only  demonstrated  that  an  editor  may  be  a 
Christian,  but  that  a  very  great  intellect  may  be  gospelized. 
His  mental  capacity  was  so  wonderful  it  was  almost  start- 
ling. I  have  been  with  him  in  active  conversation  while  at 
the  same  time  he  was  dictating  to  a  stenographer  editorials 
for  the  Atlanta  Constitution.  But  that  intellect  was  not 
ashamed  to  bow  to  'Christ.  Among  his  last  dying  utter- 
ances was  a  request  for  the  prayers  of  the  churches  in  his 
behalf. 

There  was  that  particular  quality  in  him  that  you  do  not 
find  in  more  than  one  person  out  of  hundreds  of  thousands 
—namely,  personal  magnetism.  People  have  tried  to  define 
that  quality,  and  always  failed,  yet  we  have  all  felt  its  power. 
There  are  some  persons  who  have  only  to  enter  a  room 
or  step  upon  a  platform  or  into  a  pulpit,  and  you  are  thrilled 
by  their  presence,  and  when  they  speak  your  nature  responds 
and  you  cannot  help  it.  What  is  the  peculiar  influence  with 
which  such  a  magnetic  person  takes  hold  of  social  groups 
and  audiences  ?  Without  attempting  to  define  this,  which 
is  indefinable,  I  will  say  it  seems  to  correspond  to  the  waves 
of  air  set  in  motion  by  the  voice  or  the  movements  of  the 
body.  Just  like  that  atmospheric  vibration  is  the  moral  or 
spiritual  vibration  which  rolls  out  from  the  soul  of  what  \\  o 


HIS   LIFE,    WHITINGS,    AND   M'K1.<  IIES.  433 

call  a  magnetic  person.  As  there  may  hi- a  cord  or  rope 
binding  bodies  together,  there  may  !><•  an  invisible  cord 
binding  souls.  A  magnetic  man  throws  it  over  others  as  a 
hunter  throws  a  lasso.  Mr.  Grady  was  smvhargt-d  \\ith 
this  influence,  and  it  was  employed  for  patriotism  and 
Christianity  and  elevated  purposes. 

GREAT   MEN   MAY    BE   CHRISTIANS. 

You  may  not  know  why,  in  the  conversation  which  I 
had  with  Mr.  Gladstone  a  few  weeks  ago,  he  uttered  these 
memorable  words  about  Christianity,  some  of  which  were 
cabled  to  America.  He  wras  speaking  in  reply  to  this 
remark  :  I  said  :  "  Mr.  Gladstone,  we  are  told  in  America 
by  some  people  that  Christianity  does  very  well  for  weak- 
minded  men  and  children  in  the  infant  class,  but  it  is  not 
fit  for  stronger  minded  men  ;  but  when  we  mention  you,  of 
such  large  intellectuality,  as  being  a  pronounced  friend  of 
religion,  we  silence  their  batteries."  Then  Mr.  Gladstone 
stopped  on  the  hillside  where  we  were  exercising,  and  said  : 
"  The  older  I  grow7,  the  more  confirmed  I  am  in  my  faith  in 
religion."  "  Sir,"  said  he,  with  flashing  eye  and  uplifted 
hand,  "talk  about  the  questions  of  the  day,  there  is  but 
one  question,  and  that  is  the  Gospel.  That  can  and  will 
correct  everything.  Do  you  have  any  of  that  dreadful 
agnosticism  in  America?"  Having  told  him  we  had,  he 
went  on  to  say  :  "I  am  profoundly  thankful  that  none  of 
my  children  or  kindred  have  been  blasted  by  it.  I  am  glad 
to  say  that  about  all  the  men  at  the  top  in  Great  Britain  are 
Christians.  Why,  sir,"  he  said,  "I  have  been  in  public 
position  fifty-eight  years,  and  forty-seven  years  in  the 
cabinet  of  the  British  government,  and  during  those  forty- 
seven  years  I  have  been  associated  with  sixty  of  the  master 
minds  of  the  century,  and  all  but  five  of  the  sixty  were 
Christians."  He  then  named  the  four  leading  physicians 
and  surgeons  of  his  country,  calling  them  by  name  and 
remarking  upon  the  high  qualities  of  «-aeh  of  them  and 
added  :  "They  are  all  thoroughly  Christian."  My  friends, 
I  think  it  will  be  quite  respectable  for  a  little  longer  to  be 


434  HENRY    \V.    GRADY, 

the  friends  of  religion.  William  E.  Gladstone,  a  Christ  i;m  ; 
Henry  W.  Grady,  a  Christian.  What  the  greatest  of  Eng- 
lishmen said  of  England  is  true  of  America  and  of  all 
Christendom.  The  men  at  the  top  are  the  friends  of  God 
and  believers  in  the  sanctities  of  religion,  the  most  eminent 
of  the  doctors,  the  most  eminent  of  the  lawyers,  the  most 
eminent  of  the  merchants,  and  there  are  no  better  men  hi 
all  our  land  than  some  of  those  who  sit  in  editorial  chairs. 
And  if  that  does  not  correspond  with  your  acquaintance- 
ship, I  am  sorry  that  you  have  fallen  into  bad  company. 
In  answer  to  the  question  put  last  spring,  "  Can  a  secular 
journalist  be  a  Christian?"  I  not  only  answer  in  the 
affirmative,  but  I  assert  that  so  great  are  the  responsibilities 
of  that  profession,  so  infinite  and  eternal  the  consequences 
of  their  obedience  or  disobedience  of  the  words  of  my  text, 
"  Take  thee  a  great  roll  and  write  in  it  with  a  man's  pen," 
and  so  many  are  the  surrounding  temptations,  that  the 
men  of  no  other  profession  more  deeply  need  the  defenses 
and  the  reinforcements  of  the  grace  of  God. 

THE  OPPORTUNITIES   OF  JOURNALISM. 

And  then  look  at  the  opportunities  of  journalism.  I 
praise  the  pulpit  and  magnify  my  office,  but  I  state  a  fact 
which  you  all  know  when  I  say  that  where  the  pulpit 
touches  one  person  the  press  touches  five  hundred.  The 
vast  majority  of  people  do  not  go  to  church,  but  all  intelli- 
gent people  read  the  newspapers.  While,  therefore,  the 
responsibility  of  the  minister  is  great,  the  responsibilities 
of  editors  and  reporters  is  greater.  Come,  brother  jour- 
nalist, and  get  your  ordination,  not  by  the  laying  on  of 
human  hands,  but  by  the  laying  on  of  the  hands  of  the 
Almighty.  To  you  is  committed  the  precious  reputation 
of  men  and  the  more  precious  reputation  of  women. 
Spread  before  our  children  an  elevated  literature.  Make 
sin  appear  disgusting  and  virtue  admirable.  Believe 
good  rather  than  evil.  While  you  show  up  the  hypocri- 
sies of  the  church,  show  up  the  stupendous  hypocrisies 
outside  of  the  church.  Be  not,  as  some  of  you  are, 


HIS    LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AM)    M'l-.l •.<  IIKS.  435 

the  mere  echoes  of  public  opinion ;  make  public  opinion. 
Let  the  great  roll  on  which  you  write  with  a  mini's  pen  be 
a  message  of  ligiit  and  liberty,  and  kindness  and  an  awak- 
ening of  moral  power.  But  who  is  sufficient  for  these 
things !  Not  one  of  you  without  Divine  help.  But  get 
that  influence  and  the  editors  and  reporters  can  go  up  and 
take  this  world  for  God  and  the  truth.  The  mightiest 
opportunity  in  all  the  world  for  usefulness  to-day  is  open 
before  editors  and  reporters  and  publishers,  whether  of 
knowledge  on  foot,  as  in  the  book,  or  knowledge  on  the 
wing,  as  in  the  newspaper.  I  pray  God,  men  of  the  news- 
paper press,  whether  you  hear  or  read  this  sermon,  that 
you  may  rise  up  to  your  full  opportunity  and  that  you  may 
be  divinely  helped  and  rescued  and  blessed. 

Some  one  might  say  to  me  :  "  How  can  you  talk  thus  of 
the  newspaper  press  when  you  yourself  have  sometimes 
been  unfairly  treated  and  misrepresented  ? "  I  answer  that 
in  the  opportunity  the  newspaper  press  of  this  country  and 
other  countries  have  given  me  week  by  week  to  preach  the 
gospel  to  the  nations,  I  am  put  under  so  much  obligation 
that  I  defy  all  editors  and  reporters,  the  world  over,  to 
write  anything  that  shall  call  forth  from  me  one  word  of 
bitter  cetort  from  now  till  the  day  of  my  death.  My  opin- 
ion is  that  all  reformers  and  religious  teachers,  instead  of 
spending  so  much  time  and  energy  in  denouncing  the  press, 
had  better  spend  more  time  in  thanking  them  for  what  they 
have  done  for  the  world's  intelligence,  and  declaring  their 
magnificent  opportunity  and  urging  their  employment  of  it 
all  for  beneficent  and  righteous  purposes. 

A   TYPE  OF   CHRISTIAN  PATRIOTISM. 

Again,  I  remark  that  Henry  \V.  Grady  stood  for 
Christian  patriotism  irrespective  of  political  spoils.  He 
declined  all  official  reward.  Ho  could  have  been  Governor 
of  Georgia,  but  refused  it.  He  could  have  been  Senator 
of  the  United  States,  but  declined  it.  II.-  remained 
plain  Henry  Grady.  Nearly  all  the  other  orators  of  the 
political  arena,  as  soon  as  the  elections  are  over,  go  to 


436  HENRY   W.    GRADY, 

Washington,  or  Albany,  or  Harrisburg,  or  Atlanta,  to  get 
in  city  or  state  or  national  office,  reward  for  their  services, 
and  not  getting  what  they  want  spend  the  rest  of  the  time 
of  that  administration  in  pouting  about  the  management 
of  public  affairs  or  cursing  Harrison  or  Cleveland.  When 
the  great  political  campaigns  were  over  Mr.  Grady  went 
home  to  his  newspaper.  He  demonstrated  that  it  is  possi- 
ble to  toil  for  principles  which  he  thought  to  be  right, 
simply  because  they  were  right.  Christian  patriotism  is  too 
rare  a  commodity  in  this  country.  Surely  the  joy  of  living 
under  such  free  institutions  as  those  established  here 
ought  to  be  enough  reward  for  political  fidelity.  Among 
all  the^  great  writers  that  stood  at  the  last  Presidential 
election  on  Democratic  and  Republican  platforms,  you 
cannot  recall  in  your  mind  ten  who  were  not  themselves 
looking  for  remunerative  appointments.  Aye,  you  can 
count  them  all  on  the  fingers  of  one  hand.  The  most  illus- 
trious specimen  of  that  style  of  man  for  the  last  ten  years 
was  Henry  W.  Grady. 

Again,  Mr.  Grady  stood  for  the  New  South,  and  was 
just  what  we  want  to  meet  three  other  men,  one  to  speak 
for  the  New  North,  another  for  the  New  East,  and  another 
for  the  New  West.  The  bravest  speech  made  for  the  last 
quarter  of  a  century  was  that  made  by  Mr.  Grady  at  the 
New  England  dinner  in  New  York  about  two  or  three 
years  ago.  I  sat  with  him  that  evening  and  know  some- 
thing of  his  anxieties,  for  he  was  to  tread  on  dangerous 
ground,  and  might  by  one  misspoken  word  have  antagonized 
both  sections.  His  speech  was  a  victory  that  thrilled  all 
of  us  who  heard  him  and  all  who  read  him.  That  speech, 
great  for  wisdom,  great  for  kindness,  great  for  pacification, 
great  for-  bravery,  will  go  down  to  the  generations  with 
Webster's  speech  at  Bunker  Hill,  William  Wirt's  speech 
at  the  arraignment  of  Aaron  Burr,  Edmund  Burke's  speech 
on  Warren  Hastings,  Robert  Emmett's  speech  for  his  own 
vindication. 

Who  will  in  conspicuous  action  represent  the  N<-\\ 
North  as  he  did  the  New  South  ?  Who  will  come  forth 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  437 

for  the  New  East  and  who  for  the  New  West  ?  Let  old 
political  issues  be  buried,  let  old  grudges  die.  Let  new 
theories  be  launched.  With  the  coming  in  of  a  new  nation 
at  the  gates  of  Castle  Garden  every  year,  and  the  wheat 
bin  and  corn  crib  of  our  land  enlarged  with  every  harvest, 
and  a  vast  multitude  of  our  population  still  plunged  in 
illiteracy  to  be  educated,  and  moral  questions  abroad 
involving  the  very  existence  of  our  Republic,  let  the  old 
political  platforms  that  are  worm-eaten  be  dropped,  and 
platforms  that  shall  be  made  of  two  planks,  the  one 
the  Ten  Commandments,  and  the  other  the  Sermon  on  the 
Mount,  lifted  for  all  of  us  to  stand  on.  But  there  is  a  lot 
of  old  politicians  grumbling  all  around  the  sky  who  don't 
want  a  New  South,  a  New  North,  a  New  East,  or  a  New 
West.  They  have  some  old  war  speeches  that  they  pre- 
pared in  1861,  that  in  all  our  autumnal  elections  they  feel 
called  upon  to  inflict  upon  the  country.  They  growl  louder 
and  louder  in  proportion  as  they  are  pushed  back  further 
and  further  and  the  Henry  W.  Gradys  come  to  the  front. 
But  the  mandate,  I  think,  has  gone  forth  from  the  throne 
of  Gocfthat  a  new  American  Nation  shall  take  the  place  of 
the  old,  and  the  new  has  been  baptized  for  God  and  liberty, 
and  justice  and  peace  and  morality  and  religion. 

THE   APOTHEOSIS. 

And  now  our  much  lamented  friend  has  gone  to  give 
account.  Suddenly  the  facile  and  potent  pen  is  laid  down 
and  the  eloquent  tongue  is  silent.  What  ?  Is  there  no 
safeguard  against  fatal  disease  ?  The  impersonation  of 
stout  health  was  Mr.  Grady.  What  compactness  of  mus- 
cle !  What  ruddy  complexion!  What  flashing  eye! 
Standing  with  him  in  a  group  of  twenty  or  thirty  persons 
at  Piedmont,  he  looked  the  healthiest,  as  his  spirits  were 
the  blithest.  Shall  we  never  feel  again  the  hearty  grasp 
of  his  hand  or  be  magnetized  with  his  eloquence  ?  Men  of 
the  great  roll,  men  of  the  pen,  men  of  wit,  men  of  power, 
if  our  friend  had  to  go  when  the  call  came,  so  must  you 
when  your  call  comes.  When  God  asks  you  >\hat  have 


438  HENRY   W.    QRADY, 

you  done  with  your  pen,  or  your  eloquence,  or  your  wealth, 
or  your  social  position,  will  you  be  able  to  give  satisfac- 
tory answer  ?  What  have  we  been  writing  all  these  years  ? 
If  mirth,  has  it  been  innocent  mirth,  or  that  which  tears 
and  stings  and  lacerates  ?  From  our  pen  have  there  come 
forth  productions  healthy  or  poisonous  !  In  the  last  great 
day,  when  the  warrior  must  give  account  of  what  he  has 
done  with  his  sword,  and  the  merchant  what  he  has  done 
with  his  yard  stick,  and  the  mason  what  he  has  done  with 
his  trowel,  and  the  artist  what  he  has  done  with  his  pen- 
cil, we  shall  have  to  give  account  of  what  we  have  done 
with  our  pen.  There  are  gold  pens  and  diamond  pens,  and 
pens  of  exquisite  manufacture,  and  every  few  weeks  I  see 
some  new  kind  of  pen,  each  said  to  better  than  the  other ; 
but  in  the  great  day  of  our  arraignment  before  the  Judge 
of  the  quick  and  dead,  that  will  be  the  most  beautiful  pen, 
whether  gold  or  steel  or  quill,  which  never  wrote  a  pro- 
fane or  unclean  or  cruel  word,  or  which  from  the  day  it 
was  carved  or  split  at  the  nib,  dropped  from  its  point 
kindness  and  encouragement,  and  help  and  gratitude  to 
God  and  benediction  for  man. 

May  God  comfort  that  torn  up  Southern  home,  and  all 
the  homes  of  this  country,  and  of  all  the  world,  which  have 
been  swept  by  this  plague  of  influenza,  which  has  deepened 
sometimes  into  pneumonia  and  sometimes  into  typhus,  and 
the  victims  of  which  are  counted  by  the  ten  thousand, 
Satan,  who  is  the  "prince  of  the  power  of  the  air,"  has 
been  poisoning  the  atmosphere  in  all  nations.  Though  it 
is  the  first  time  in  our  remembrance,  he  has  done  the  same 
thing  before.  In  1696  the  unwholesome  air  of  Cairo.  Egypt, 
destroyed  the  life  of  ten  thousand  in  one  day,  and  in  Con- 
stantinople in  1714  three  hundred  thousand  people  died  of 
it.  I  am  glad  that  by  the  better  sanitation  of  our  cities  and 
wider  understanding  of  hygienic  laws  and  the  greater  skill 
of  physicians  these  Apollyonic  assaults  upon  the  human 
race  are  being  resisted,  but  pestilential  atmosphere  is  still 
abroad.  Hardly  a  family  here  but  has  felt  its  lighter  or 
heavier  touch.  Some  of  the  best  of  my  flock  fell  under  its 


HIS    LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND    SPEKCII KS.  431) 

power  and  many  homes  here  represented  have  been  crushed. 
The  fact  is  the  biggest  failure  in  the  universe  is  this  world, 
if  there  be  no  heaven  beyond.  But  there  is,  and  the  friends 
who  have  gone  there  are  many,  and  very  dear.  Oh,  tearful 
eyes,  look  up  to  the  hills  crimsoning  with  eternal  morn  ! 
That  reunion  kiss  will  more  than  make  up  for  the  parting 
kiss,  and  the  welcome  will  obliterate  the  good-by.  "  Tin- 
Lamb  which  is  in  the  midst  of  the  throne  shall  lead  them 
to  living  fountains  of  water  and  God  shall  wipe  away  all 
tears  from  their  eyes."  Till  then,  O  departed  loved  on»-s, 
promise  us  that  you  will  remember  us,  as  we  promise  to 
remember  you.  And  some  of  you  gone  up  from  this  city 
by  the  sea,  and  others  from  under  southern  skies  and  others 
from  the  homes  of  the  more  rigorous  North  and  some  from 
the  cabins  on  great  western  farms,  we  shall  meet  again  when 
our  pen  has  written  its  last  word  and  our  arm  has  done  its 
last  day's  work  and  our  lips  have  spoken  their  last  adieu. 

And  now,  thou  great  and  magnificent  soul  of  editor  and 
orator !  under  brighter  skies  we  shall  meet  again.  From 
God  thou  earnest,  and  to  God  thou  hast  returned.  Not 
broken  down,  but  ascended.  Not  collapsed,  but  irradiated. 
Enthroned  one  !  Coroneted  one  !  Scepteredone  !  Empara- 
disfcd  one !  Hail  and  farewell ! 


TRIBUTES 


OP  THE 


NORTHERN    PRESS 


HE  WAS  THE   EMBODIMENT   OF  THE  SPIRIT  OF 
THE  NEW  SOUTH. 


From  the  "New  York  World." 

AS  the  soldier  falls  upon  the  battlefield  in  the  line  of 
J_JL  duty,  so  died  Henry  Woodfin  Grady,  the  proL 
sive  editor  of  the  Atlanta  Constitution.  Mr.  Grady  came 
to  the  North  twelve  days  ago,  with  his  fatal  illness 
upon  him,  against  the  entreaties  of  his  family,  to  speak 
a  word  for  the  South,  to  the  mind  and  conscience  of 
New  England.  He  performed  his  task  in  splendid  spirit, 
and  with  the  effective  and  moving  eloquence  that  were 
always  his,  and  then  returned  home  to  die.  It  is 
highly  probable  that  if  he  had  not  gone  to  Boston  he 
would  be  living  and  writing  to-day.  It  is  as  more 
than  a  journalist  or  an  orator,  that  Mr.  Grady  is  to  be 
counted.  He  was  admirable  as  both,  but  he  was  more 
than  a  Southerner,  a  peacemaker  between  the  sections. 
He  was  intensely  Southern,  filled  full  of  all  the  traditions 
of  his  people,  proud  of  them  and  their  past,  but  he  accepted 
the  new  order  with  the  magnificent  enthusiasm  of  his  in- 
tense nature,  and  became  the  embodiment  of  the  spirit  of 
the  New  South.  More  than  any  other  man  of  this  section, 
he  had  the  ear  of  the  people  of  the  North.  They  believed 
the  patriotic  assurances  which  he  made  in  behalf  of  his 
people,  because  they  knew  him  to  be  honest  and  sincere 
and  thoroughly  devoted  to  all  that  makes  for  the  best  in 
public  affairs.  His  influence  in  Atlanta  and  throughout 
the  South  was  deservedly  great.  No  Southerner  could 
have  been  so  ill-spared  as  this  young  man,  whose  future 
only  a  day  or  two  ago  seemed  brilliant  to  a  degree.  UN 
death  is  a  wonderfully  great  bereavement,  niul  not  only 
to  his  family  and  the  community  in  which  he  lived  and 
labored,  but  the  whole  country,  whose  peac.-  and  unity  and 
kindly  sentiment  he  did  so  much  to  promote. 


444  HENRY    W.    GRADY, 


A  THOROUGHLY  AMERICAN  JOURNALIST. 


From  the  "  New  York  Herald.' 

MR.  GRADY'S  death  will  be  deeply  and  justly  regretted 
all  over  the  country.  He  had,  though  still  a  young 
man,  made  for  himself  a  national  reputation,  and  by 
his  steadfast  counsels  for  peace  and  good  will,  and  by  his 
intelligent  devotion  to  the  development  of  his  State  and 
of  the  South,  had  won  the  good  will  of  North  and  South 
alike. 

It  is  seldom  that  so  good  a  journalist  is  at  the  same  time 
so  brilliant  and  effective  an  orator  as  Mr.  Grady  was.  The 
reason  probably  is  that  when  he  spoke  he  had  something  to 
say,  and  that  he  was  of  so  cheerful  and  hopeful  a  spirit 
1  hat  he  was  able  to  affect  his  hearers  with  his  own  optimism. 
In  that  he  was  a  thorough  American,  for,  as  one  of  the 
shrewdest  New  Yorkers  once  said,  "  This  is  a  bull  country, 
and  the  bears  have  the  wrong  philosophy  for  the  American 
people." 

For  that  training  which  made  him  not  only  a  brilliant 
and  successful,  but,  what  is  better,  a  broadly  intelligent 
and  useful  journalist,  the  Herald  claims  a  not  inconsider- 
able share  of  credit,  which  Mr.  Grady  himself  was  accus- 
tomed to  give  it.  The  Herald  was  his  early  and  best  school. 
As  a  correspondent  of  this  journal  he  first  made  his  mark 
by  the  fearless  accuracy  of  his  reports  of  some  exciting 
scenes  in  the  reconstruction  period.  He  showed  in  those 
days  so  keen  an  eye  as  an  observer,  united  with  such  rapid 
and  just  judgment  of  the  bearings  of  facts,  that  his  reports 
in  the  Herald  attracted  general  attention  and  were  recog- 
nized freely,  even  by  those  whom  they  inconvenienced,  as 
the  clearest,  the  most  truthful,  and  the  most  just  reports 


HIS   LIFE,    WIJI  TINGS,    AND   8PKI.<  II  44;, 

made  of  those  events.  He  was  then  st  ill  ;i  very  young  man  ; 
but  he  quickly  saw  that  the  province  of  ;i  newspaper,  and 
of  a  reporter  of  events  for  it,  is  to  tell  ihe  exact  truth,  to 
tell  it  simply  and  straightforwardly,  and  without  fear. 
favor  or  prejudice.  This  is  what  he  learned  from  his  con- 
nection with  the  Herald,  and  this  lesson  he  carried  into  his 
own  able  journal,  the  Atlanta  Constitution. 

It  does  not  often  happen  that  so  young  a  man  as  Mr. 
Grady  was  makes  so  great  and  widespread  a  reputation, 
and  this  without  any  of  the  tricks  of  self-puffery  which 
are  the  cheap  resort  of  too  many  young  men  ambitious  of 
fame,  or  what  they  mistake  for  fame — notoriety. 

In  Mr.  Grady' s  untimely  death  the  country  loses  one 
of  its  foremost  and  most  clear-headed  journalists,  and  his 
State  one  of  its  most  eminent  and  justly  admired  citizens. 


A  LOSS  TO  THE  WHOLE  COUNTRY. 


From  the  "New  York   Tribune.'1'' 

THE  death  of  Henry  Grady  is  a  loss  to  the  whole  country, 
but  there  is  some  consolation  in  the  general  recognition 
of  this  fact.  During  his  brief  career  as  a  public  man  lie 
has  said  many  things  that  it  was  profitable  for  both  North 
and  South  to  hear,  and  he  has  said  them  in  such  a  way  as 
to  enhance  their  significance.  As  editor  of  one  of  the  few 
widely  influential  papers  of  the  South,  he  possessed  an 
opportunity,  which  he  had  also  in  .uTeat  measure  created,  of 
impressing  his  opinions  upon  Southern  society,  but  it  was 
to  a  few  occasional  addresses  in  Northern  cities  that  he 
chiefly  owed  his  national  reputation.  His  rhetorical 
were  not  of  the  highest  order,  but  he  had  command  of  a 
style  of  speaking  which  was  most  effective  for  hispurp 
It  was  marked  by  the  Celtic  characteristic  of  exuberance, 
but  it  was  so  agreeable  and  inspiring  that  he  was  al> 


4-itl  IIKNKY     W.    GKADY, 

command  at  will  audiences  at  home  and  abroad.     When 
idowed  lif  has  also  a  significant  message  to  deliver,  and 

is,  moreover,  animated  by  a  sincere  desire  to  serve  his 
ration  to  the  full  measure  of  his  ability,  the  loss  which 
his  death  inflicts  is  not  easily  repaired.  The  whole 
country  will  unite  in  deploring  the  sudden  extinction  of  a 
faithful  life.  Mr.  Grady's  zeal,  activity  and  patriotism 
were  fully  recognized  in  the  North,  as  we  have  said,  1ml 
yet  it  was  pre-eminently  to  his  own  people  that  he  was  an 
example  and  inspiration.  His  loyalty  to  the  cause  in  which 
his  father  fell  was  untinged  with  bitterness,  and  he  never 
permitted  himself  to  imagine  that  vain  regrets  were  more 
sacred  than  present  obligations.  He  was  an  admirable 
illustration  of  that  sagacious  and  progressive  spirit  which 
is  gradually,  but  surely,  renewing  the  South,  and  which, 
though  it  still  lacks  something  of  being  altogether  equal  to 
its  opportunities,  does  nevertheless  recognize  the  fact  that 
"  new  occasions  teach  new  duties,  time  makes  ancient  good 
uncouth." 


WHAT  HENRY  W.    GRADY  REPRESENTED. 


From  the  "  New  York  Commercial  Advertiser." 

WHAT  undoubtedly  interested  and  fascinated  people 
most  in  the  late  Henry  W.  Grady  was  the  fact  that  he 
represented  an  order  of  genius  now  almost  extinct  in  our 
country,  and  yet  one  in  which  some  of  the  favorite  episodes 
of  its  history  are  entwined.  The  orator  who  appealed  at 
once  to  the  reason  and  the  feelings  was  beyond  question 
the  foremost  power  of  our  early  national  century  of  history. 
He  was  not  predominant  in  the  councils  which  founded  our 
government,  nor  in  the  first  decade  of  its  administration  ; 
because  the  duties  of  that  period  called  for  the  calm  delib- 
erations of  statesmen  rather  than  the  arousing  of  voters  to 
action.  As  this  era  of  national  infancy  drew  to  its  close, 


HIS    LIFE,    WRITING-,     AM>    MM  447 

and  the  gigantic  problems,  destined  at  a  later  day  to  in- 
volve the  nation  in  civil  war,  ram*'  forth  into  sudden  prom- 
inence, the  orator  became  the  central  figure  of  tin-  national 
stage.  The  rank  and  tile  gave  their  allegiance  to  their 
chosen  oratorical  lea-lei'.  II. •  >pnke  in  their  behalf  in  Con- 
gress ;  he  defined  in  all  political  gatherings  the  will  and 
purposes  of  his  constituents  ;  and  not  less  powerfully  was 
his  influence  exerted  to  shape  those  opinions  and  purp* 
Indeed,  the  speeches  of  Clay,  Calhoun  and  \Veb>t»-i\  and 
at  a  later  day  of  Douglas  and  Lincoln,  are  better  under- 
stood when  regarded  as  shaping  public  opinion  than  as  fol- 
lowing the  popular  will  already  formed.  The  speed. 
these  leaders  supplied  the  need  which  is  now  met  by  the 
newspaper  editorial  in  journals  of  influence  and  public 
spirit.  Like  the  newspaper  of  this  later  day,  the  Ameri- 
can orator  of  half  a  century  ago  was  quick  to  note  a  change 
in  the  trend  of  public  sentiment,  and  at  his  best  fearless  in 
leading  the  movement  even  before  the  popular  mind  had 
given  assent. 

The  civil  war  brought  to  a  close  the  epoch  in  which 
flourished  this  interesting  and  impressive  figure  of  our  ear- 
lier politics.  To-day,  partly  because  of  the  greater  diil'u- 
sion  of  news  r,nd  intelligence,  partly  by  reason  of  the  more 
technical  and  analytical  character  of  the  national  prob- 
lems which  confront  us,  he  has  quite  disappeared  from  the 
political  stage.  One  need  only  recall  the  congressional  or 
campaign  speeches  of  our  ablest  public  speakers  to  appre- 
ciate the  truth  of  this.  It  was  Mr.  Grady's  good  fortune 
that  he,  equipped  with  the  keen  insight  and  fervid  elo- 
quence of  our  old  public  leaders,  was  placed  in  an  6] 
and  a  community  where  the  reconciling  of  the  North  and 
the  South  called  for  just  these  powers.  Presently,  when 
the  wave  of  closer  commercial  intercourse  and  the  1 
mutual  understanding  shall  have  swept  with  unprecedented 
rapidity  over  the  whole  nation,  the  feelings  which  made 
such  mediation  necessary  will  be  quite  dead.  But  the 
work  of  the  men  who  led  the  way  is  not  likely  to  be  for- 
gotten. 


448  HKXKY     \V.    GKADY, 

A  FAR-SIGHTED  STATESMAN. 


l''r<nn  the  "New  York  Star." 

THE  death  of  Henry  W.  Grady  is  a  very  much  greater 
national  loss  than  the  public  will  at  first  concede  ;  and 
while  his  death  will  be  regretted,  not  only  by  the  Democ- 
racy of  the  country,  but  by  all  patriotic  citizens,  few  will 
recognize  that  he  was  one  of  the  few  prominent  young  men, 
who  were  children  during  the  War,  who  labored  to  oblit- 
erate absolutely  the  animosity  it  engendered.  We  believe 
that  if  the  circumstance  of  his  prominent  position  had  not 
silenced  Jefferson  Davis,  who  died  almost  simultaneously 
with  this  youth,  he,  too,  would  have  been  found  advocating 
the  truth  that  the  Union  of  these  States  is  homogeneous, 
and  that  Union  is  worth  all  the  sacrifices  it  cost. 

The  young  Atlanta  editor  has,  during  the  past  few  years, 
done  as  much  as  any  other  public  man  toward  the  accom- 
plishment of  perfect  reunion  and  for  the  prosperity  of  his 
State  and  section.  His  later  addresses  had  been  specially 
characterized  by  a  broad  grasp  of  political  and  industrial 
problems  that  entitled  him  to  high  rank  as  an  accomplished 
and  far-sighted  statesman. 

There  have  been  few  more  interesting  personalities  in  the 
life  of  the  country  in  the  past  decade,  and  there  was  no 
man  of  his  years  with  brighter  prospects  than  Grady  at  the 
time  of  his  last  visit  to  the  North,  which  will  be  memorable 
as  the  occasion  of  his  most  comprehensive  and  effective 
address  on  his  constant  theme  of  American  prosperity 
through  fraternity. 

AN  APOSTLE  OF    THE  NEW  FAITH. 


From  the  "New  York  Times." 

FEW  men  who  have  never  entered  the  public  service 
were  more  widely  known  throughout  the  country  than 
Henry  \V.  Orudy,  who  died  at  Atlanta,  and  the  death  of  only 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  449 

a  few  even  of  those  who  have  won  the  honors  and  the  promi- 
nence of  public  life  would  be  more  sincerely  deplored.  Ten 
years  ago  Mr.  Grudy  hud  made  himself  known  in  the  South 
by  the  fervency  of  his  devotion  to  her  interests  and  by  tin- 
unusual  ability  he  displayed  in  his  newspaper  work,  and 
the  people  of  the  South"  met  his  devotion  with  char:i< 
istic  warmth  of  affection  and  generosity  of  praise.  A  little 
later  he  was  recognized  in  the  North  as  an  eloquent 
interpreter  of  the  new  spirit  which  had  awakened  and 
possessed  the  South.  His  speech  at  the  dinner  of  the  New 
England  Society  three  years  ago  was  only  an  expression 
from  a  more  conspicuous  platform  of  the  sentiments  which 
had  long  inspired  his  daily  writing.  And  it  was  not  merely 
as  an  interpreter  of  Southern  feeling  that  Mr.  Grady  was 
entitled  to  recognition.  In  a  large  measure  he  was  the 
creator  of  the  spirit  that  now  animates  the  South.  He  was 
an  apostle  of  the  new  faith.  He  exhorted  the  people  of  the 
Southern  States  to  concern  themselves  no  longer  about  what 
they  had  lost,  but  to  busy  themselves  with  what  they  might 
find  to  do,  to  consecrate  the  memories  of  the  war  if  tln-y 
would,  but  to  put  the  whole  strength  of  their  minds  and 
bodies  into  the  building  up  of  the  New  South.  To  4iis 
teaching  and  his  example,  as  much  as  to  any  other  single 
influence  perhaps,  the  South  owes  the  impulses  of  matt-rial 
advancement,  of  downright  hard  work,  and  that  well-nigh 
complete  reconciliation  to  the  conditions  and  duties  of  the 
present  and  the  future  that  distinguish  her  to-day. 


THE  FOREMOST  LEADER. 


from  the  "New  York  Christian  Union." 

TIIK  d.-ath  of  Henry  W.  Grady,  at  Atlanta,  on  Monday 
of  this  week,  was  a  loss,  not  only  to  his  own  section,  hut 
to  the  country.  Although  a  young  man.  and  not  in  politi- 
cal life,  Mr.  Grady  had  alivady  ac(juir«-d  a  national  ivjm- 
tation.  It  is  only  three  years  since  h»>  d«'liv<-ivd  tin-  s 
at  the  New  England  dinner  in  this  city,  which 


450  HENRY   W.    GRADY, 

den  expansion  to  a  reputation  already  rapidly  extending, 
and  made  his  name  known  in  every  State  in  the  Union. 
Mr.  Grady  was  a  typical  Southern  man,  ardent  in  his  love 
for  his  own  section,  loyal  to  the  memory  of  those  who 
fought  in  the  struggle  of  a  quarter  of  a  century  ago,  but 
equally  loyal  to  the  duties  and  the  nation  of  to-day. 
Warm-hearted,  generous,  a-nd  of  a  fervid  imagination,  Mr. 
Grady' s  oratory  recalled  the  best  traditions  of  the  South- 
ern style;  and  the  sincerity  and  geniality  of  his  nature 
evoked  the  confidence  and  regard  of  his  audience,  while 
his  eloquence  thrilled  them.  His  latest  speech  was  deliv- 
ered in  Boston  two  weeks  ago,  on  the  race  question,  and 
was  one  of  those  rare  addresses  which  carry  with  them  an 
immediate  broadening  of  the  views  of  every  auditor. 
Among  the  men  of  his  own  section  Mr.  Grady  was  proba- 
bly the  foremost  leader  of  progressive  ideas,  and  his  death 
becomes  for  that  reason  a  national  loss. 


A  GLORIOUS  MISSION. 


From  the  Albany,  N.  Y.,  "  Argus." 

ALL  who  admire  true  patriotism,  brilliant  talents,  golden 
eloquence  and  ripe  judgment,  will  regret  the  untimely 
taking  off  of  the  gifted  Southern  journalist  and  orator, 
Henry  W.  Grady.  in  the  very  zenith  of  his  powers  and 
fame.  His  eloquent  address  at  the  annual  banquet  of  the 
Boston  Merchants'  Association  is  still  fresh  in  the  minds 
of  those  who  listened  to  him  or  read  his  glowing  words  in 
the  columns  of  the  press.  It  was  the  last  and  grandest 
effort  of  the  brilliant  young  Southerner.  It  was  the 
defense  of  his  beloved  South  against  the  calumnies  cast 
upon  her,  and  the  most  lucid,  convincing  exposition  of  the 
race  question  ever  presented  at  a  public  assemblage.  Im- 
passioned and  heartfelt  was  his  plea  for  Union  and  the 
abandonment  of  all  sectionalism.  These  closing  words  of 


HIS   LIFE,    WHITINGS,    AND   BPEECB  451 

his  address  miglit  fitly  be  inscribed  upon  his  tomb  :  "Let 
us  resolve  to  crown  the  miracles  of  our  past  with  the  spec- 
tacle of  a  Republic,  compact,  united,  indissoluble  in  the 
bonds  of  love — loving  from  the  Lakes  to  the  Gulf— the 
wounds  of  war  healed  in  every  heart  as  on  every  hill- 
serene  and  resplendent  at  the  summit  of  human  achieve- 
ment and  earthly  glory— blazing  out  the  path,  and  making 
clear  the  way  up  which  all  the  nations  of  the  earth  must 
come  in  God's  appointed  time."  The  words  were  all  the 
more  emphatic  and  convincing  because  they  were  spoken 
in  the  presence  of  an  ex-president  whose  entire  administra- 
tion had  been  consecrated  to  such  a  Union  of  all  sections, 
and  who  accomplished  more  in  the  grand  work  of  obliter- 
ating the  last  traces  of  sectional  strife  and  division  than 
any  other  man  who  sat  in  the  national  executive  chair. 

Well  may  the  South  mourn  over  this  fervid  advocate  of 
her  honor,  her  rights,  her  interests,  and  regard  his  death  a 
public  calamity.  Eloquence  such  as  his  is  rarely  given  to 
men,  and  it  was  devoted  wholly  to  his  beloved  land.  It 
has  done  more  to  break  down  the  barriers  of  prejudice  and 
passion  than  a  decade  of  homilies,  dry  arguments  and 
elaborate  statistics  could  effect.  His  was  a  most  glorious 
mission,  the  bringing  together  in  the  closest  bonds  of  fra- 
ternal love  and  confidence  the  sections  which  partisan 
malice,  political  selfishness  and  unconscionable  malignity 
would  keep  apart.  Whenever  he  spoke,  the  earnest ne>s 
of  his  convictions,  expressed  in  the  noblest  language, 
impressed  itself  upon  the  intelligence  of  his  hearers.  His 
last  appeal,  made,  as  he  described  it,  "within  touch  of 
Plymouth  Rock  and  Bunker  Hill,  where  Webster  thun- 
dered and  Longfellow  sang,  and  Emerson  thought  and 
Channing  preached,"  melted  away  the  most  hardened 
prejudice  and  enkindled  in  the  New  England  heart  the 
spirit  of  respect  and  sympathy  for  the  brave,  single-minded 
people  of  the  South,  who  are  so  patiently  and  determinedly 
working  out  their  destiny  to  make  their  beautiful  land  the 
abode  of  unalloyed  peace  and  prosperity.  .Journalism  will 
also  mourn  the  loss  of  one  of  its  brightest  representatives. 


452  IIKNKY     \V.    GRADY, 

Henry  W.  Grady  shone  in  the  columns  of  his  newspaper, 
the  Atlanta  Constitution,  with  no  less  brilliancy  limn  he 
did  as  an  orator.  Under  his  guidance  that  paper  has 
become  one  of  the  brightest  in  the  land.  It  will  be  diffi- 
cult for  the  South  to  supply  his  place  as  patriot,  journalist 
and  orator.  He  was  an  effective  foil  to  the  Eliza  Pinkston 
class  of  statesmen  in  and  out  of  Congress. 


HIS  LOFTY  IDEAL. 


From  the  "Philadelphia  Press" 

FEW  men  die  at  thirty-eight  whose  departure  is  felt 
as  a  national  loss,  but  Henry  W.  Grady  was  one.  At  an 
age  when  most  men  are  just  beginning  to  be  known  in 
their  own  States  and  to  be  recognized  in  their  own  section, 
he  was  known  to  the  nation  and  recognized  by  the  Ameri- 
can people.  At  the  South  he  represented  the  new  pride  in 
the  material  revival  of  a  section  desolated  by  the  war.  At 
the  North  he  stood  for  loyal  and  enthusiastic  support  by 
the  South  of  the  new  claims  of  the  Union.  His  every 
appearance  before  the  public  was  one  more  proof  to  the 
nation  that  the  sons  of  those  who  fought  the  war  were 
again  one  people  and  under  one  flag,  cherishing  different 
memories  in  the  past,  but  pressing  forward  to  the  same 
lofty  ideal  of  a  homogeneous  democratic  society  under 
republican  institutions. 

If  Henry  W.  Grady  spoke  at  the  North  he  spoke  for 
the  South  ;  if  he  spoke  at  the  South  he  stood  for  Northern 
ideas  in  his  own  land.  He  was  none  the  less  true  in  both 
attitudes  that  his  utterances  were  insensibly  modified  by 
his  audiences.  Eloquent,  magnetic,  impressionable,  shar- 
ing to  the  full  the  sympathy  every  great  speaker  always  has 
with  his  audience,  his  sentiment  swung  from  extreme  to 
extreme  as  he  stood  on  a  Northern  or  a  Southern  platform. 
It  was  always  easy  to  pick  flaws  in  them.  Now  and  then 


HIS    LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  453 

his  rhetorical  sympathies  placed  him  in  a  false  position. 
But  it  was  the  inevitable  condition  of  work  like  his  that  he 
should  express  extremes.  If  he  had  not  felt  and  voiced 
the  pride  with  which  every  Southerner  must  and  should 
look  back  to  the  deathless  valor  of  men  we  all  rejoice  to 
claim  as  Americans,  he  would  have  been  worthless  as  a 
representative  of  the  South.  If  he  had  not  thrilled  earlier 
than  his  fellows  to  the  splendid  national  heritage  with 
which  defeat  had  dowered  his  people,  he  could  never  have 
awakened  the  applause  of  Northern  audiences  by  expres- 
sions of  loyalty  and  devotion  to  our  common  nation. 

This  service  to  both  sections  sprang  from  something 
inore  than  sympathy.  A  moral  courage  Northern  men 
can  little  understand  was  needed  for  him  to  oppose 
Southern  treatment  of  the  negro.  Energy  and  industry, 
unknown  among  his  fellows,  were  needed  in  the  leader- 
ship he  undertook  in  the  material  development  of  his  State 
and  section.  It  is  easy  now  to  see  the  enormous  profit 
which  lay  in  the  material  development  of  Georgia.  Far- 
sighted  provision  was  needed  to  urge  the  policy  and  aid 
the  combination  which  made  it  possible  ten  years  ago. 

No  one  but  a  journalist,  we  are  proud  to  say,  could 
have  done  Mr.  Grady's  work,  and  he  brought  to  the  work 
of  journalism  some  of  its  highest  qualifications.  Ability 
as  a  writer,  keen  appreciation  of  "news,"  and  tireless 
industry,  which  he  had,  must  all  be  held  second  to  the 
power  he  possessed  in  an  eminent  degree  of  divining  the 
drift  and  tendency  of  public  feeling,  being  neither 
early  to  lead  it  nor  too  late  to  control  it.  This  divination 
Mr.  Grady  was  daily  displaying  and  he  never  made  better 
use  of  it  than  in  his  last  speech  in  Boston,  the  best  of  his 
life,  in  which  he  rose  from  mere  rhetoric  to  a  clear,  earn 
est  and  convincing  handling  of  fact.  A  great  future  was 
before  him,  all  too  soon  cut  off.  He  leaves  to  all  joiirnal- 
ista  the  inspiring  example  of  the  great  opportunities  \\  Inch 
their  profession  offers  to  serve  the  progress  of  men  and  aid 
the  advance  of  nations,  by  speaking  to  the  present  of  the 
bright  and  radiant  light  of  the  future,  and  rising  above  the 


464  IIKXRY   W.    GRADY, 

claims  of  party  and  the  prejudice  of  locality  to  advocate 
the  higher  claims  of  patriotism  and  humanity. 


HIS  PATRIOTISM. 


From  the  "  Philadelphia  Ledger." 

THE  death  of  Henry  W.  Grady,  which  occurred  almost 
at  the  dawning  of  this  beneficent  Christmas  time,  did  not 
"  eclrpse  the  gayety  of  nations,"  as  it  was  long  ago  said  the 
death  of  another  illustrious  person  did,  but  it  still  casts  a 
shadow  over  his  native  land — a  shadow  which  falls  heavily 
upon  all  those  of  his  countrymen  who  knew,  honored  and 
loved  the  man. 

Henry  W.  Grady  was  one  of  the  youngest,  the  most 
brilliant,  the  best  beloved  of  the  young  men  of  his  country 
who,  since  the  war  of  secession,  won  distinction  in  public 
life.  Whether  considered  as  a  writer  or  an  orator,  his 
talents  were  extraordinary.  His  language  was  strong, 
refined,  and,  in  its  poetic  warmth  and  elegance,  singularly 
beautiful.  But  that  which  gave  to  it  its  greatest  value  and 
charm  was  the  wisdom  of  the  thought,  the  sincerity  of  the 
high  conscience  of  which  it  was  the  expression.  It  was 
given  to  him  as  it  is  to  so  few — the  ability  to  wed  noble 
thoughts  to  noble  words — to  make  the  pen  more  convincing 
than  the  sword  in  argument,  to  make  the  tongue  proclaim 
"the  Veritas  that  lurks  beneath  the  letter's  unprolific 
sheath." 

Henry  W.  Grady  was,  in  the  truest  sense,  an  American  ; 
his  love  of  country,  his  unselfish  devotion  to  it,  were  un- 
questioned and  unquestionable  ;  but  he  sought  to  serve  it 
best  by  best  serving  the  South,  which  he  so  greatly  loved 
and  which  so  loved  and  honored  him.  It  was  the  New  South 
of  human  freedom,  material  progress — not  the  Old  South  of 
chattel  slavery  and  material  sluggishness — of  which  he  was 
the  representative,  the  prophet.  It  was  the  South  of  to-<1a  y, 


HIS  LIFK,   WKITIXCJS,   AND  SPKKCFIES.  455 

which  has  put  off  the  bitternesses,  defeats  and  animosities 
of  the  war ;  which  has  put  on  the  sentient  spirit  of  iv:il 
union,  of  marvelous  physical  development,  \vhirh  advances 
day  by  day  to  wealth,  dignity  and  greatness  by  gigantic 
strides.  This  was  the  South  that  he  glorified  with  pen  and 
tongue,  and  which  he  sought  with  earnest,  zealous  love  to 
bring  into  closer,  warmer  fraternity  with  the  North  and  the 
North  with  it. 

The  story  of  the  shield  which  hung  in  the  forest,  and 
which,  to  the  traveler  coming  from  the  North,  seemed  to 
be  made  of  gold,  and  to  the  traveler  journeying  from  the 
South,  to  be  made  of  silver,  is  an  old  one.  But  it  has  its 
new  significance  in  every  great  matter  to  which  there  are 
two  sides,  and  which  is  looked  at  by  those  approaching  it 
from  different  directions  from  their  respective  points  of 
view.  He  saw  but  one  side  of  the  race  question — the 
Southern  side,  and  for  that  he  strenuously  contended  only 
a  few  days  before  his  death,  in  the  very  shadow  of  Faneuil 
Hall,  or,  as  he  finely  said:  "Here,  within  touch  of  Ply- 
mouth Rock  and  Bunker  Hill — where  Webster  thundered 
and  Longfellow  sang,  Emerson  thought  and  Ch  aiming 
preached — here,  in  the  cradle  of  American  letters  and  of 
American  liberty."  It  was  in  the  house  of  his  antagonists 
that  he  fought  for  the  side  which  he  thought  good  and  just, 
and  if  in  doing  so  he  did  not  convince,  he  was  listened  to 
with  respect  and  admiration. 

That  is  a  question  not  to  be  discussed  here  and  now,  and 
it  is  referred  to  only  to  show  the  courage  of  Mr.  Grady  in 
defence  of  his  convictions,  for  they  were  convictions,  and 
honest  ones,  and  not  mere  political  or  sectional  opinions. 
Apart  from  the  race  question,  Mr.  Grady  was  a  man  «>f 
peace,  who,  whether  writing  in  his  own  influential  journal 
in  the  South,  or  speaking  in  Boston,  his  tongue  and  voice 
were  alike  for  peace,  good  will,  unity  of  interest,  thought 
and  feeling.  In  his  address  of  the  13th  instant,  at  the 
Boston  banquet,  Mr.  Grady  said  : 

"A  mighty  duty,  sir,  a  mighty  inspiration  impels  every 
one  of  us  to-night  to  lose  in  patriotic  consecration  what- 


HI;,\I:V    w.   <.I:ADY 


ever  estranges,  whatever  divides.  We,  sir,  are  Americans, 
and  we  .stand  for  human  liberty!  The  uplifting  force  of 
the  American  idea  is  under  every  throne  on  earth.  France, 
Brazil  —  these  are  our  victories.  To  redeem  the  earth  from 
kingcraft  and  oppression,  this  is  our  mission!  And  we 
shall  not  fall.  Mod  has  sown  in  our  soil  the  seed  of  His 
millennial  harvest,  and  He  will  not  lay  the  sickle  to  the 
ripening  crop  until  His  full  and  perfect  day  has  come.  Our 
history,  sir,  has  been  a  constant  and  expanding  miracle 
from  Plymouth  Rock  and  Jamestown  all  the  way  —  aye, 
even  from  the  hour  when,  from  the  voiceless  and  trackless 
ocean,  a  new  world  rose  to  the  sight  of  the  inspired  sailor. 
As  we  approach  the  fourth  centennial  of  that  stupendous 
day  —  when  the  Old  World  will  come  to  marvel  and  to  learn, 
amid  our  gathered  treasures  —  let  us  resolve  to  crown  the 
miracles  of  our  past  with  the  spectacle  of  a  republic,  com- 
pact, united,  indissoluble  in  the  bonds  of  love  —  loving  from 
the  Lakes  to  the  Gulf  —  the  wounds  of  war  healed  in  every 
heart  as  on  every  hill  —  serene  and  resplendent  at  the 
summit  of  human  achievement  and  earthly  glory  —  blazing 
out  the  path  and  making  clear  the  way  up  which  all  the 
nations  of  the  earth  must  come  in  God's  appointed  time." 
The  fine  expression  of  these  lofty  sentiments  shows  the 
eloquence  of  the  man,  but,  better  than  that,  they  them- 
selves show  the  broad  and  noble  spirit  of  his  patriotism. 
And  the  man  that  his  countrymen  so  admired  and  honored 
is  dead,  his  usefulness  ended,  his  voice  silent,  his  pen  idle 
forever,  and  he  so  young.  There  are  no  accidents,  said 
Charles  Sumner,  in  the  economy  of  Providence  ;  nor  are 
there.  The  death  of  Henry  W.  Grady,  which  seems  so 
premature,  is  yet  part  of  the  inscrutable  design  the  perfect- 
ness  of  which  may  not  be  questioned,  and  out  of  it  good 
will  come  which  is  now  hidden.  He  was  of  those  great 
spirits  of  whom  Lowell  sang  : 

"  We  find  in  our  dull  road  their  shining  track  ; 

In  every  noble  mood 
We  feel  the  Orient  of  tlifir  spirit  glow, 

Part  of  our  life's  unalterable  good, 
Of  all  our  saintlier  aspirations  :  " 


HIS  I.IKK.    \V;:MI\<;>.    AM>  -I-KK<  i;  4 .-,7 

He  was  of  those  who  even  through  death  do  good,  an 
posthumously  work  out  the  economy  of  Providence,  for 

"  As  thrills  of  long  hushed  tone 
Live  in  the  viol,  so  our  souls  grow  fine 
With  keen  vibrations  from  the  touch  divine 
Of  Nobler  natures  gone." 


ORATORY  AND  THE  PRESS. 


From  the  "Boston  Advertise)*." 

THE  lamented  death  of  Mr.  H.  W.  Grady  affords  a  fit* 
occasion  for  saying  that  oratory  is  not  one  of  "  the  lost 
arts."     A  great  deal  is  said  from  time  to  time  about  the 
decadence  of  oratory  as  caused  by  the  competition  of  the 
press.     We  are  told  that  public  address  is  held  in  slight 
esteem  because  the  public  prints  are  much  more  accessible 
and  equally  interesting.     It  is  said  that  this  operates  in  t  wo 
ways,  that  the  man  who  has  something  to  say  will  always 
prefer  to  write  rather  than  speak,  because  the  printed  pa-:.- 
reaches  tens  of  thousands,  while  the  human  voice  can  at 
most  be  heard  by  a  few  hundreds,  and  that  not  many  peo- 
ple will  take  the  trouble  to  attend  a  lecture  when  tlu'-y  can 
read  discussions  of  the  same  subject  by  the  lecturer* him- 
self, or  others  equally  competent,  without  stirring  from  th»> 
evening  lamp  or  exchanging  slippers  for  boots.     But  th.-iv 
is  a  great  deal  of  fallacy  in  such  arguments.     The  press  is 
the  ally,  not  the  supplanter  of  the  platform.     The  fun« • 
tions  of  the  two  are  so  distinct  that  they  cannot  clash.  \  el 
so  related  that  they  are  mutually  helpful.     Oratory  N 
much  more  than  the  vocal  utterance,  of  fitting  words.     (  ML- 
of  the  ancients  defined  the  three  requisites  of  an  orator  as 
first,  action  ;  second,  action ;   and   third,   action.     If    by 
action  is  meant  all  that  accompanies  speech.  mv, 

emphasis,  intonation,  variety  in   tim»«.  and   tlios.-   subtle 
expressions  that  come  through  the  Hushing  cheek  and  the 


458  HKXRY    W.    GRADY, 

gleaming  eye,  the  enumeration  was  complete.  Mr.  Grady 
spoke  with  his  lips  not  only,  but  with  every  form  and 
f»-;  it  ure  of  his  bodily  presence.  Such  oratory  as  his,  and 
such  as  that  of  the  man  whose  lecture  on  "  The  Lost  Arts" 
proved  that  oratory  is  not  one  of  them,  will  never  be  out  of 
date  while  human  nature  remains  what  it  is.  There  is, 
indeed,  one  class  of  public  speakers  whose  occupation  the 
press  has  nearly  taken  away.  They  are  the  "orators," 
falsely  so  called,  whose  speech  is  full  of  sound  and  fury, 
signifying  nothing.  Cold  type  is  fatal  to  their  pretensions. 


THE  LESSON  OF  MB.  GRADY' S  LIFE. 


From  the  "Philadelphia  Times." 

HENRY  W.  GRADY  is  dead,  but  the  lesson  of  his  life 
will  live  and  bear  fruits  for  years  to  come.  The  young 
men  of  the  South  will  not  fail  to  note  that  the  public  jour- 
nals of  every  faith  in  the  North  have  discussed  his  life  and 
death  in  the  sincerest  sympathy,  and  that  not  only  his 
ability  but  his  candor  and  courage  have  elicited  universal 
commendation.  Had  Mr.  Grady  been  anything  less  than 
a  sincere  Southerner  in  sympathy  and  conviction,  he  could 
have  commanded  the  regulation  praise  of  party  organs  in 
political  conflicts,  but  he  would  have  died  little  regretted 
in  either  section.  He  was  a  true  son  of  the  South  ;  faith- 
ful to  its  interests,  to  its  convictions,  to  its  traditions  ;  and 
he  proved  how  plain  was  the  way  for  the  honest  Southerner 
to  be  an  honest  patriot  and  a  devoted  supporter  of  the 
Union. 

There  are  scores  of  men  in  the  South,  or  who  have  lived 
there,  and  who  have  filled  the  highest  public  trusts  within 
the  gifts  of  their  States,  without  commanding  the  sym- 
pathy or  respect  of  any  section  of  the  country.  Of  the 
South,  they  were  not  in  sympathy  with  their  people 
or  interests,  and  they  have  played  their  brief  and  acci- 


HIS    LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEI  •:«  Ml 

dental  parts  only  to  be  forgotten  when  their  work  was 
done.  They  did  not  speak  for  the  South ;  they  were 
instruments  of  discord  rather  than  of  tranquility,  and  th««y 
left  no  impress  upon  the  convictions  or  pulsations  of  either 
section. 

But  Mr.  Grady  was  a  true,  able,  candid,  courageous 
son  of  the  South,  and  he  was  as  much  respected  under  the 
shadows  of  Bunker  Hill  as  in  Georgia.  Sincerely  Southern 
in  every  sympathy,  he  was  welcomed  North  and  Soutli  as 
a  patriot ;  and  long  after  the  Mahones  and  the  Chalmers 
shall  have  been  charitably  forgotten,  the  name  of  Grady 
will  be  fresh  in  the  greenest  memories  of  the  whole  people 
of  the  country. 

There  is  no  better  lesson  for  the  young  men  of  the  South 
to  study  than  the  life,  the  aims  and  the  efforts  of  Mr.  Grady 
and  the  universal  gratitude  he  commanded  from  every 
section.  He  was  beloved  in  the  South,  where  his  noble 
qualities  were  commonly  known,  but  he  was  respected  in 
the  North  as  an  honest  Southerner,  who  knew  how  to  be 
true  to  his  birthright  and  true  to  the  Republic.  The 
Northern  press  of  every  shade  of  political  conviction  has 
united  in  generous  tribute  to  the  yoiing  patriot  of  Georgia, 
and  if  his  death  shall  widen  and  deepen  the  appreciation 
of  his  achievement  among  the  young  men  of  the  South  who 
must  soon  be  the  actors  of  the  day,  he  may  yet  teach  even 
more  eloquently  and  successfully  in  the  dreamless  sleep  of 
the  grave  than  his  matchless  oratory  ever  taught  in  Atlanta 
or  Boston. 


HIS  LOSS  A  GENERAL  CALAMITY. 


From  the  "  St.  Louis  Globe-Democrat." 

THE  sudden  and  lamentable  death  of  Henry  W.  Grady 
will  eclipse  the  gayety  of  the  Christmas  season  in  the  South. 
He  was  a  popular  favorite  throughout  that  section,  and  his 
loss  is  a  general  calamity.  His  public  career  was  yet  in  it> 


460  IIKXUY  w.  GRADY, 

beginning.  He  had  distinguished  himself  as  an  editor  and 
as  an  orator,  and  high  political  honors  awaited  him  quite 
as  a  matter  of  course.  His  qualities  of  head  and  heart 
fitted  him  admirably  for  the  service  of  the  people,  and  they 
trusted  and  loved  him  as  they  did  no  other  of  the  younger 
Southern  leaders.  He  believed  in  the  new  order  of  things, 
and  was  anxious  to  see  the  South  redeemed  from  the  blun- 
ders and  superstitions  of  the  past,  and  started  on  a  career 
of  rational  and  substantial  progress.  In  the  nature  of 
things,  he  was  obliged  now  and  then  to  humor  sectional 
prejudice,  but  he  did  it  always  in  a  graceful  way,  and  set 
an  example  of  moderation  and  good  temper  that  was 
greatly  to  his  credit.  Without  sacrificing  in  the  least  his 
honor  or  his  sincerity  as  a  devoted  son  of  the  South,  he 
gave  candid  and  appreciative  recognition  to  the  virtues  of 
the  North,  and  made  himself  at  home  in  Boston  the  same 
as  in  Atlanta.  The  war  was  over  with  him  in  the  best 
sense.  He  looked  to  the  future,  and  all  his  aspirations 
were  generous  and  wholesome. 

If  the  political  affairs  of  the  South  were  in  the  control 
of  men  of  the  Grady  pattern,  a  vast  improvement  would 
soon  be  made.  He  did  not  hesitate  to  denounce  the 
methods  which  have  so  often  brought  deserved  reproach 
upon  the  Southern  people.  He  was  not  in  sympathy  with 
the  theory  that  violence  and  fraud  may  be  properly  in- 
voked to  decide  elections  and  shape  the  course  of  legisla- 
tion. His  impulses  as  a  partisan  stopped  short  of  the  feel- 
ing that  everything  is  fair  in  politics.  He  did  much  to 
mollify  and  elevate  the  tone  of  public  sentiment ;  and  he 
would  have  done  a  great  deal  more  if  he  had  been  spared 
to  continue  his  salutary  work.  His  loss  is  one  of  that  kind 
which  makes  the  decrees  of  fate  so  hard  to  understand. 
There  was  every  reason  why  he  should  live  and  prosper. 
His  opportunities  of  usefulness  were  abundant ;  his  State 
and  his  country  needed  him  ;  there  was  certain  distinction 
in  store  for  him.  Under  such  circumstances  death  comes 
not  as  a  logical  result,  but  as  an  arbitrary  interference  with 
reasonable  conditions  and  conceptions.  We  are  bound  to 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  461 

believe  that  the  mystery  has  been  made  plain  to  the  man 
himself  ;  but  here  it  is  insoluble.  The  lesson  of  his  sterling 
integrity,  his  patriotism  and  his  cheerfulness  is  left,  how- 
ever, for  his  countrymen  to  study  and  enforce.  Let  us 
hope  that  in  the  South  particularly  it  will  not  be  neglected. 


SADDEST  OF  SEQUELS. 


From  the  ''Manchester,  N.  H.,  Union.'" 

THE  death  of  Henry  W.  Grady,  the  brilliant  journalist 
and  eloquent  orator,  will  be  sincerely  deplored  throughout 
the  country.  It  is  especially  untimely,  coming  as  it  does 
as  the  saddest  of  sequels  to  a  tour  which  promised  much 
in  the  beginning,  and  which,  in  all  save  this  ending,  more 
than  fulfilled  the  expectations  of  his  friends.  His  brilliant 
speech  in  Boston  was  his  last  great  effort,  and  it  will  long 
be  remembered  as  one  of  his  best.  In  it  he  plead,  as  it 
now  proves,  with  the  lips  of  a  dying  man,  for  true  fratern- 
ity between  the  North  and  South.  Had  he  lived,  his  burn- 
ing appeals  would  have  moved  the  country  deeply.  Now 
that  it  is  known  that  the  effort  cost  him  his  life,  his  words 
will  have  a  touch  of  pathos  in  them  as  they  are  recalled  by 
the  men  of  all  parties  and  all  sections  to  whom  they  were 
so  earnestly  addressed.  But  even  this  increased  effect 
given  to  his  last  appeal  to  the  North  will  not  compensate 
for  the  loss  of  such  a  man  at  this  time.  Henry  W.  Grady 
was  distinctively  the  representative  of  the  New  South. 
Too  young  to  have  had  an  active  part  in  the  great  struggle 
between  the  states,  he  came  into  active  life  at  just  the  time 
when  men  like  him  were  needed.  His  face  was  set  toward 
the  future.  He  belonged  to  and  was  identified  with  the 
progressive  element  which  has  already  accomplished  so 
much  of  positive  achievement  in  the  Southern  States.  He 
was  a  Southern  man,  recognized  as  a  leader  by  Southern 
men,  but  with  a  breadth  of  mind  and  purpose  which  made 


HKNKY    W.    OUADY, 

liiin  a  pan  of  die  entire  country.  Under  his  leadership 
tin-  South  \\as  suiv  to  make  progress,  l>ui  its  rapid  march 
\\;is  to  be  to  tin.*  music  of  tin-  I'liiou,  and  with  every  sb-p 
the  North  and  South  were  to  be  nearer  together  than  at 
any  previous  lime  since  the  adoption  of  the  Constitution. 
Hut  his  i KIT t  in  the  great  work  is  ended.  His  passionate 
<•  is  stilled  and  his  active  bra  in  is  at  rest  at  a  time  in 
life  when  most  men  are  entering  upon  their  most  effective 
work.  Had  he  lived,  a  brilliant  future  was  already  assured 
to  him,  a  future  of  leadership  and  of  tremendous  influence 
in  public  affairs.  But  his  untimely  death  ends  all.  Others 
will  take  up  his  work  as  best  they  may  ;  the  New  South 
will  go  forward  with  the  development  of  its  material  inter- 
ests, old  animosities  will  fade  away  and  the  North  and 
South  will  gradually  come  together  in  harmony  of  spirit 
and  purpose,  but  the  man  of  all  others  who  seem-  «1  <!<•— 
tined  to  lead  in  the  great  movement  will  have  no  further 
share  in  it.  The  South  will  mourn  his  early  death  most 
deeply,  and  the  North  will  throw  off  its  reserve  sufficiently 
to  extend  its  sincere  sympathy,  feeling  that  when  such  a 
man  dies  the  loss  is  the  nation's  rather  than  that  of  a 
single  state  or  of  a  group  of  states. 


A  LIFE  OF  PROMISE. 


From  the  "  Chicago  Inter- Ocean.'11 

IN  the  death  of  Henry  W.  Grady,  which  occurred  yes- 
t ••i-day,  journalism,  the  South,  and  the  whole  country  suf- 
fered serious  loss.  He  had  come  to  occupy  a  large  place, 
and  one  which  cannot  be  filled.  He  was  a  connecting  link 
between  the  old  and  the  new  South,  with  his  face  toward 
the  East,  albeit  the  shadows  of  the  setting  sun  could  be 
clearly  discerned  in  his  discussions  of  the  vital  questions 
of  the  day.  His  life  seemed  just  begun,  and  big  in  the 
promise  of  usefulness.  Two  years  ago  he  was  known  only 


HIS    I,  IF  K,     WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECH  463 

as  a  joimmlist.  He  addressed  the  New  England  Soci.-t y  <>f 
Xc\\  York  on  the  evening  of  December  29,  1887.  That 
speech  made  him  famous.  Since  then  his  mum-  has  been 
a  household  word.  For  him  to  be  stricken  down  at  the 
early  age  of  thirty-nine  is  little  if  any  short  of  a  public 
calamity. 

It  is  a  dangerous  thing  for  a  man  of  serious  purpose  to 
win  renown  as  an  after-dinner  speaker.  Post -prandial 
oratory  is  geiu Tally  a  kind  of  champagne,  as  effervescent 
as  it  is  sparkling,  but  Mr.  Grady  struck  a  vein  of  thought  at 
that  New  England  banquet  which  had  in  it  all  the  earneM- 
ness  of  patriotism.  A  Southerner  with  a  strong  sectional 
flavor,  his  influence,  as  a  whole,  was  broadening.  He 
never  rose  superior  to  the  prejudice  of  race,  but  it  may 
well  be  doubted  if  any  Southerner  could  do  so  in  th«->e 
days  without  cutting  himself  off  from  all  influence  over 
his  own  people.  There  is  nowhere  visible  in  the  Southern 
heavens  the  dawn  of  the  day  of  equal  justice,  irrespective 
of  race.  In  that  regard  Mr.  Grady  was  neither  better  nor 
worse  than  his  white  neighbors.  But  with  that  exception 
his  patriotism  had  largely  outgrown  its  provincial  environ- 
ments. 

Mr.  Grady  was  a  native  of  Georgia.  His  father  seems 
to  have  been  a  follower  of  Alex.  H.  Stephens,  for  he  was  a 
Union  man  until  the  final  test  came,  when  he  took  up  arms 
for  the  Confederacy,  meeting  death  for  the  cause  of  his 
reluctant  espousal.  A  graduate  of  the  University  of  Georgia 
and  later  of  the  University  of  Virginia,  the  son  had  tin-  l»^t 
education  the  South  could  give.  His  newspaper  life  1> 
early  and  was  never  interrupted.  For  several  years  he  was 
co-editor  and  co-proprietor  of  the  Atlanta  Constitution, 
confessedly  one  of  the  leading  newspapers  of  the  country. 
Previous  to  his  connection  with  the  Constitution  he  was 
the  correspondent  of  the  Inter-Ocean  and  the  New  York 
Herald.  Both  as  editor  and  correspondent  he  excelled. 
Both  as  editor  and  orator  he  has  at  different  times  spok.-n 
eloquently  of  both  Abraham  Lincoln  and  Jefferson  Davis 
his  point  of  view  being  intermediate,  and  that  fact,  rather 


464  ITKN'RY    W.    GRADY, 

tlian  any  conscious  vacillation,  explains  his  seeming  con- 
tradictions. 

A  few  days  ago  the  Southern  people  stood  with 
uncovered  heads  by  the  grave  of  Jefferson  Davis,  the  most 
conspicuous  representative  of  the  Old  South,  and  now, 
before  they  had  fairly  returned  from  that  funeral,  they  are 
called  upon  to  attend  the  obsequies  of  the  most  conspicu- 
ous representative  of  the  New  South.  These  two  notable 
men  present  much  the  same  blending  of  resemblance  and 
contrast,  as  do  the  evening  and  the  morning  stars.  Cer- 
tainly Mr.  Grady,  young,  enthusiastic,  and  patriotic,  was 
to  the  South  a  harbinger  of  brighter,  more  prosperous 
days. 


ELECTRIFIED  THE  WHOLE  COUNTRY. 


From  the  "  Pittsburgh  Dispatch" 

THE  Christmas  holidays,  North  and  South,  are  sad- 
dened by  the  death  of  Henry  W.  Grady,  the  interesting 
young  journalist  of  Atlanta,  whose  words  of  patriotism 
and  of  manly  hope  and  encouragement  for  all  sections,  have 
more  than  once  within  a  few  years  electrified  the  whole 
country.  Mr.  Grady  won  fame  early,  and  in  an  uncommon 
manner.  Though  locally  known  in  the  South  as  a  capable 
newspaper  man,  his  name  was  not  familiar  to  the  general 
public  until  a  few  years  ago,  when,  by  a  single  speech  at  a 
banquet  in  a  northern  city,  he  attracted  universal  atten- 
tion. Since  then  his  utterances  have  carried  weight,  and 
scarcely  a  man  speaking  or  writing  on  public  topics  has 
been  more  respectfully  heard. 

The  key-note  of  Mr.  Grady' s  speeches  on  the  South  was 
that  the  past  belief  of  its  people  in  the  "  Lost  Cause," 
and  their  continued  personal  admiration  for  their  leaders, 
should  not  and  did  not  prevent  them  from  accepting  fully 
and  in  perfect  good  faith  the  results  as  they  stand.  He 
argued  that  the  best  elements,  including  the  new  genera- 


HIS    LIFK,     WRITINGS,    AND    SPKKdi  465 


tion,  were  only  too  willing  and  anxious  to  treat  of  the 
as  a  condition  wholly  and  irrevocably  past  —  and,  at  that, 
a  past  which  they  would  not  recall  if  they  could.  From 
the  North  he  asked  a  recognition  of  this  new  feeling,  and 
the  magnanimous  consideration  which  would  not  assume 
that  the  South  was  still  disloyal  or  rebellious  merely 
because  it  refused  to  condemn  itself  and  its  leaders  for  the 
mistakes  which  brought  it  disaster. 

The  efforts  of  the  deceased  were  to  promote  patriotic 
devotion  to  the  Union  in  the  South,  and  to  induce  the 
North  to  believe  that  the  feeling  existed.  His  evident  sin- 
n-rity  and  his  eloquence  in  presenting  the  situation  won 
cordial  approval  in  the  North,  while  in  his  own  section  he 
was  applauded  with  equal  warmth.  His  death  will  be  very 
widely  and  deeply  regretted,  as  that  of  a  man  of  high  and 
generous  feeling  whose  influence,  had  he  lived,  promised 
to  make  for  whatever  was  noble  and  good. 


A  LARGE  BRAIN  AND  A  LARGE  HEART. 


From  the  "  Elmira,  N.  y.,  Advertiser." 

THROUGHOUT  the  entire  North  as  well  as  in  the  South 
will  there  be  heartfelt  and  sincere  mourning  over  the  death 
of  this  most  distinguished  editor  on  the  other  side  of 
Mason  and  Dixon's  line.  It  was  only  ten  days  ago  that 
he  came  North  and  delivered  an  address  at  the  annual  din- 
ner of  the  Merchant's  Club  of  Boston,  following  it  on  the 
next  evening  with  a  speech  before  the  Bay  State  Club,  a 
Democratic  organization.  While  on  this  trip  Mr.  Grady 
contracted  a  severe  cold  which  was  the  immediate  cause  of 
his  death  yesterday  morning. 

The  dead  editor  was  a  man  of  large  brain  and  large 
heart.  His  hope  was  in  the  future  of  the  South  and  he 
worked  for  the  results  which  his  prophetic  ken  perceiv.-.l 
ahead  of  its  present  with  great  earnestness  and  great  judg- 


4GG  IIK.XRY    W.    GRADY, 

* 

ment.  Since  he  became  the  editor  of  the  Atlanta  Consti- 
tution he  has  labored  unceasingly  to  remedy  the  unfortu- 
nate conditions  which  operated  against  the  progress  and 
development  of  the  South.  Under  his  inspiring  leadership 
and  wise  counsel  many  enterprises  have  been  started  and 
encouraged.  There  is  no  other  one  man  to  whom  the  New 
South  owes  so  much  as  to  Henry  W.  Grady.  When  he 
came  to  New  York  City  two  years  ago,  and  in  a  notable 
address  there  told  the  people  what  this  New  South  had 
done  and  was  trying  to  do,  the  public  was  astonished  at 
his  statistics.  The  speech  was  so  eloquent,  so  earnest,  so 
broadly  American  in  tone  and  spirit  that  it  attracted  wide 
attention  and  sent  a  thrill  of  admiration  to  the  heart  of 
every  gratified  reader.  It  made  him  not  only  famous  but 
popular  all  through  the  North.  This  fame  and  popularity 
were  increased  by  his  recent  excellent  addresses  in  Boston. 
The  Advertiser  published,  on  Thursday  last,  on  the 
fourth  page,  an  extract  from  one  of  these  speeches,  entitled 
"  The  Hope  of  the  Republic,"  and  we  can  do  the  dead  man 
no  better  honor  than  to  recommend  to  our  readers  that 
they  turn  back  and  read  that  extract  again.  It  expresses 
the  purest  sentiment  and  highest  appreciation  of  the  foun- 
dation principles  of  the  Republic. 

Mr.  Grady  was  a  Democrat  and  a  Southern  Democrat. 
Yet  he  was  a  protectionist  and  believed  that  the  develop- 
ment of  the  South  depended  upon  the  maintenance  of  the 
protective  tariff.  Under  it  the  iron  manufactures  and  vari- 
ous products  of  the  soil  in  that  section  of  our  country  have 
been  increased  to  a  wonderful  extent  while  the  general 
business  interests  have  strengthened  to  a  remarkable  de- 
gree. Mr.  Grady  has  encouraged  the  incoming  of  North- 
ern laborers  and  capitalists  and  aided  every  legitimate 
enterprise.  He  has  been  a  politician,  always  true  to  his 
party's  candidates,  though  he  has  been  somewhat  at  vari- 
ance with  his  party's  tariff  policy.  He  has  been  a  good 
mail,  a  noble,  true  Christian  gentleman,  an  earnest,  faith- 
ful editor  and  a  model  laborer  for  the  promotion  of  his 
people's  interests. 


HIS   LIFE,    WKITINTiS,    AND   SPEECHES.  407 

THE  MODEL  CITIZEN. 


From  the  "Boston  Globe." 

HENRY  W.  GRADY  dead  ?    It  seems  almost  impossible. 

Only  ten  days  ago  his  fervid  oratory  rang  out  in  a  Bos- 
ton banquet  hall,  and  enchanted  the  hundreds  of  Boston's 
business  men  who  heard  it.  Only  nine  days  ago  the  news- 
papers carried  his  glowing  words  and  great  thoughts  into 
millions  of  homes.  And  now  he  lies  in  the  South  he  loved 
so  well — dead  ! 

"  He  has  work  yet  to  do,"  said  the  physician,  as  the 
great  orator  lay  dying.  "  Perhaps  his  work  is  finished," 
replied  Mr.  Grady's  mother.  She  was  right.  To  the  phy- 
sician, as  to  many  others,  it  must  have  seemed  that  Mr. 
Grady's  work  was  just  beginning  ;  that  not  much  had  yet 
been  accomplished.  For  he  was  young  ;  only  thirty-eight 
years  old.  He  had  never  held  a  public  office,  and  there  is 
a  current  delusion  that  office  is  the  necessary  condition  of 
success  for  those  endowed  with  political  talents.  But  Mr. 
(iiady  had  done  his  work,  and  it  was  a  great  work,  too. 
He  had  done  more,  perhaps,  than  any  other  man  to  destroy 
the  lingering  animosities  of  the  war  and  re-establish  cordial 
relations  between  North  and  South.  His  silvery  speech 
and  graphic  imagery  had  opened  the  minds  of  thousands 
of  influential  men  of  the  North  to  a  truer  conception  of  the 
South.  He  had  shown  them  that  the  Old  South  was  a 
memory  only  ;  the  New  South  a  reality.  And  he  had  done 
more  than  any  other  man  to  open  the  eyes  of  the  North 
to  the  peerless  natural  advantages  of  his  section,  so  that 
streams  of  capital  began  to  flow  southward  to  develop  those 
resources. 

He  was  a  living  example  of  what  a  plain  citizen  may  do 
for  his  country  without  the  aid  of  wealth,  office  or  higher 
position  than  his  own  talents  and  earnest  patriotism  gave 
him. 

Boston  joins  with  Atlanta  and  the  South  in  mourning 
the  untimely  death  of  this  eloquent  orator,  statesmanlike 


468  IIKNKY    W.    ORADY, 

thinker,  able  journalist  and  model  citizen.  He  will  long 
be  affectionately  remembered  in  this  city  and  throughout 
the  North. 


A  LOYAL  UNIONIST. 


From  the  "  Chicago  Times." 

MR.  GRADY  was  a  loyal  Unionist.  The  son  of  a  Union- 
veteran,  proud  of  his  sire's  part  in  the  battle-fields  of  the 
rebellion,  could  not  be  more  so.  He  stood  manfully  against 
the  race  prejudice  which  would  lash  the  negro  or  plunder 
or  terrorize  him,  but  he  recognized  fully  the  difficulties  of 
the  race  problem,  and  would  not  blink  the  fact,  which 
every  Northern  man  who  sojourns  in  the  South  soon  learns, 
that  safety,  progress,  peace,  and  prosperity  for  that  section 
forbid  that  the  mere  numerical  superiority  of  the  blacks 
should  authorize  them  to  push  the  white  man,  with  his 
superior  capability  for  affairs,  from  the  places  where  laws 
are  made  and  executed.  Mr.  Grady  looked  upon  the  situa- 
tion dispassionately  and  told  the  truth  about  it  to  Northern 
audiences. 

He  was  an  active  force  in  the  journalism  of  the  South, 
where  the  journal  is  still  regarded  largely  as  an  organ  of 
opinion  and  the  personality  of  the  editor  counts  for  much. 
He  entered  the  newspaper  field  when  the  modern  idea  of 
news  excellence  had  obtained  a  full  lodgment  at  the  North 
and  at  one  or  two  places  South  of  the  Ohio,  and  while  he 
loved  to  occupy  the  pulpit  of  the  fourth  page  he  was  not 
unmindful  of  the  demand  for  a  thorough  newspaper. 


HIS  WORK  WAS  NOT  IN  VAIN. 


From  the  "  Cleveland,  O.,  Plaindealer." 

THE  death  of  Henry  W.  Grady  of  the  Atlanta  Consti- 
tution is  a  loss  to  journalism,  to  the  South  and  to  the  nation. 


ii rs  1. 111:,   ui:rnx(;s,  AND  SPEECHES.  469 

He  had  done  good  work  for  each,  and  still  more  could  rea- 
sonably be  expected  of  him  but  for  his  untimely  death  a1 
tin-  comparatively  early  age  of  thirty-eight.  His  fatal 
Illness  was  contracted  when  serving  the  cause  of  the  whole 
country  by  pleading  in  the  North  for  a  more  generous  and 
just  judgment  of  the  Southern  people  and  of  their  efforts 
to  solve  the  race  problem.  He  has  done  much  toward 
bringing  about  a  better  understanding  by  his  brilliant, 
earnest  and  logical  addresses  to  Northern  audiences,  in 
which  he  abated  nothing  of  that  intense  love  for  that 
part  of  the  Union  of  which  he  was  a  native,  but  at  the 
same  time  appealed  to  them  as  citizens  of  the  same  coun- 
try, as  brothers,  to  bury  past  differences,  make  allowance 
for  conditions  that  were  not  desired  and  could  not  be 
avoided,  and  substitute  friendly  confidence  for  prejudiced 
suspicion.  More  of  the  same  good  work  was  expected 
of  him,  but  as  his  mother  said  when  speaking  of  his  dan- 
gerous condition  :  "  May  be  his  work  is  finished."  Under 
his  management  the  Constitution  worked  unceasingly  for 
the  physical  and  moral  regeneration  of  the  South.  It 
preached  the  gospel  of  the  "New  South,"  redeemed  by 
work,  by  enterprise  and  by  devotion  to  the  Union  of  which 
the  South  is  an  integral  part,  and  its  preaching  has  not 
been  in  vain.  With  pen  and  tongue,  equally  eloquent  with 
both,  Mr.  Grady  labored  in  behalf  of  the  cause  he  had  so 
much  at  heart,  and,  although  dying  thus  early,  he  had  the 
satisfaction  of  knowing  that  his  work  was  not  in  vain  ; 
that  it  is  certain  to  bring  forth  good  fruit. 


THE  BEST  REPRESENTATIVE  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH. 


From  the  "Albany,  N.  Y.,  Journal.'1 

BY  the  death  of  Henry  Woodfin  Grady  the  country 
loses  one  of  its  most  brilliant  journalists. 

Throughout  the  country  his  death  will  be  deplored  as 
most  untimely,  for  the  future  was  bright  before  him.  He 


470  HENRY    W.    (JKADY, 

had  already,  although  only  thirty-eight  years  old,  reached 
the  front  rank  in  his  profession,  and  he  had  been  talked  <»f 
as  nominee  for  the  vice-presidency.  This  eminence  he  \\on 
not  only  by  his  brilliant  writing,  but  also  by  his  integrity 
and  high  purposes.  He  never  held  an  office,  for  though  he 
could  make  and  unmake  political  destinies,  he  never  took 
for  himself  the  distinctions  he  was  able  to  bestow  upon 
others.  Though  he  inherited  many  ante-bellum  prejudices 
and  feelings,  yet  no  editor  of  the  South  was  more  earnest, 
more  fearless  in  denouncing  the  outrages  and  injustices 
from  time  to  time  visited  upon  the  negro.  So  the  Ameri- 
can people  have  come  to  believe  him  the  best  representa- 
tive of  the  "New  South,"  whose  spokesman  he  was — an 
able  journalist  and  an  honest  man  who  tried  according  to 
his  convictions  to  make  the  newspaper  what  it  should  be, 
a  living  influence  for  the  best  things  in  our  political,  indus- 
trial and  social  life. 


A  LAMENTABLE  LOSS  TO  THE  COUNTRY. 


From  the  "  Cincinnati  Commercial  Gazette." 

HE  was  a  man  of  high  faculties  and  purposes,  and  of 
great  breadth  of  sympathy.  He  had  courage  of  heart  equal 
to  capacity  of  brain,  and  placed  in  the  core  of  the  South, 
in  her  most  busy  city,  and  the  undoubted  representative 
man  of  her  ambition  and  progress,  it  is  lamentable  that  he 
should  be  lost  to  the  country. 

It  seemed  to  be  in  no  man's  grasp  to  do  more  good  than 
he  had  appointed  for  his  task.  He  has  done  that  which 
will  be  memorable.  It  is  something  forever,  to  plow  one 
deep  furrow  in  fertile  land  for  the  seed  that  is  in  the  air. 

He  is  dead,  as  the  poets  that  are  loved  must  die,  still 
counting  his  years  in  the  thirties  ;  and  there  is  this  com- 
pensation, that  it  may  yet  be  said  of  him  in  the  South,  as 


HIS    LI1-K,     WRITINGS,    AND    >IM-iK«  BBS.  471 

was  so  beautifully  sung  by  Longfello\v  of  Burns  in  Scotland. 
that  he  haunts  her  fields  in  "  immortal  youth." 

Anil  then  to  die  so  young,  and  leave 
Unfinished  what  he  might  achieve. 
....     He  haunts  his  native  land 
As  an  immortal  youth ;  his  hand 

Guides  every  plo\v, 
He  sits  beside  each  ingle-nook  ; 
His  voice  is  in  each  rushing  brook, 

Each  rustling  bough. 


A    SAD    LOSS. 


From  the  "Buffalo,  N.  Y.,  Express." 

THE  death  of  no  other  man  than  Henry  Woodfin  Grady 
could  have  plunged  Georgia  into  such  deep  mourning  as 
darkens  all  her  borders  to-day.  Atlanta  is  the  center  of 
Georgia  life,  and  Grady  was  the  incarnation  of  Atlanta 
vitality.  His  was  a  personality  difficult  to  associate  with 
the  idea  of  death.  He  was  so  thoroughly  alive,  bodily  and 
mentally,  he  was  so  young,  the  fibers  of  his  being  reached 
out  and  were  embedded  in  so  many  of  the  living  interests 
of  Georgia  and  the  whole  South,  that  no  thought  of  his 
possible  sudden  end  would  rise  in  the  minds  of  any  who 
knew  him.  And  his  friends  were,  legion.  Everybody 
called  him  Henry. 

In  ten  years  he  rose  from  obscurity  to  a  prominence 
that  made  him  the  foremost  figure  of  his  day  in  the  South, 
and  had  already  linked  his  name  with  the  second  office  in 
the  gift  of  the  American  people.  As  an  orator  he  was  the 
pride  of  the  South,  as  Chauncey  M.  Depew  is  of  the  North. 
As  a  journalist  no  Northern  man  bears  the  relation  to  his 
section  that  Grady  did  to  the  South.  As  a  public-spirited 
citizen  it  seemed  only  necessary  for  Grady  to  espouse  a 
project  for  it  to  succeed  beyond  all  expectations.  V*-t  but 
a  few  years  ago  he  started  three  newspapers  in  succession 


472  IIKMJY    W.    GRADY, 

and  they  all  failed  !  Failure  was  the  alphabet  of  his 
success. 

A V IK -ii  Mr.  (Jrady  bought  a  quarter  interest  in  the 
Atlanta  Constitution  he  had  had  but  slender  training  in 
journalism.  lie  had  written  a  great  deal,  which  is  quite 
another  thing.  Though  the  Constitution  has  remained 
intensely  provincial  in  its  methods  ever  since,  he  has  um-n 
it  an  iiiilueiHv  in  the  South  unrivalled  by  any  other  paper, 
with  possibly  one  exception.  Under  his  inspiration  the 
Constitution  viewed  everything  Georgian,  and  especially 
Atlantian,  as  better  than  similar  things  elsewhere.  It 
backed  up  local  enterprises  with  a  warmth  that  shames  the 
public  spirit  of  most  Northern  cities.  It  boasted  of  local 
achievements  with  a  vehemence  that  was  admirable  while 
it  sometimes  was  amusing.  Florid  in  his  own  speech  and 
writing,  Mr.  Grady  gathered  about  him  on  the  Const 'id/ - 
(ton  men  of  similar  gifts,  who  often  wrote  with  pens 
dipped,  as  it  were,  in  parti-colored  inks,  and  filled  its  col- 
umns with  ornate  verbal  illuminations.  Yet  amid  much 
that  was  over-done  and  under-done  there  often  appeared 
work  of  genuine  merit.  For  the  Constitution  under  Grady 
has  been  the  vehicle  by  which  some  of  the  most  talented 
of  the  late  Southern  writers  have  become  familiar  to  the 
public.  Grady  was  proud  of  them,  and  of  his  paper.  "I 
have  the  brightest  staff  and  the  best  newspaper  in  the 
United  States,"  he  once  remarked  to  this  writer.  And 
Mr.  Grady  firmly  believed  what  he  said. 

It  was.  as  a  speech-maker  that  Grady  was  best  known 
at  the  North.  Echoes  of  his  eloquence  had  been  heard 
here  from  time  to  time,  but  soon  after  the  Charleston  earth- 
quake he  made  the  address  on  "The  New  South,"  before 
the  New-England  Society  at  New  York,  that  won  for  him 
the  applause  of  the  entire  country,  and  must  now  stand  as 
the  greatest  effort  of  his  life.  His  recent  speech  in  Boston 
is  too  fresh  in  mind  to  need  attention  here.  Mr.  Grady' s 
style  \\as  too  florid  to  be  wholly  pleasing  to  admirers  of 
strong  and  simple  English.  He  dealt  liberally  in  trops 
and  figures.  He  was  by  turns  fervid  and  pathetic.  He 


HIS   LIFE,    WUITINUS,    AND   SPEECHES.  473 

made  his  speeches,  as  he  conducted  his  newspaper,  in  a 
manner  quite  his  own.  It  pleased  the  people  in  Georgia, 
and  even  when  he  and  his  partner,  Capt.  Hovvell,  ran  the 
Const  it  u( inn  on  both  sides  of  the  Prohibition  question  it 
was  regarded  as  a  brilliant  stroke  of  journalistic  genius. 

Personally  Mr.  Grady  was  one  of  the  most  companion- 
able and  lovable  of  men.  His  hand  and  his  purse  were 
always  open.  His  last  act  in  Atlanta,  when  waiting  at  the 
depot  for  the  train  that  bore  him  to  the  Boston  banquet, 
was  to  head  a  subscription  to  send  the  Gate  City  Guard  to 
attend  Jefferson  Davis1  s  funeral.  His  swarthy  face  was 
lighted  by  a  bright,  moist,  black  eye  that  flashed  forth  the 
keen,  active  spirit  within.  The  impression  left  upon  the 
mind  after  meeting  him  was  of  his  remarkable  alertness. 

He  will  be  a  sad  loss  to  Georgia,  and  to  the  South. 
There  is  none  to  take  his  place.  His  qualities  and  his  use- 
fulness must  be  divided  henceforth  among  a  number.  No 
one  man  possesses  them  all. 


WORDS  OF  VIRGIN  GOLD. 


From  the  "  Oswego,  N.  Y.,  Palladium." 

THE  peaceful  sernity  of  the  Christmas  festival  is  sadly 
married  by  the  intelligence  flashed  over  the  wires  from  the 
fair  Southern  city  of  Atlanta  to-day.  "Death  loves  a 
shining  mark,"  and  without  warning  it  came  and  took  away 
Henry  W.  Grady,  the  renowned  orator  and  the  brilliant 
editor,  the  man  above  all  others  who  could  least  be  spared 
by  the  South  at  this  time.  A  week  ago  last  Thursday 
night  he  stood  up  in  the  banquet  hall  at  Boston  and  with 
charming  eloquence  delivered  to  the  people  of  the  North  a 
message  from  the  loyal  South — a  message  that  went  out 
over  the  land  and  across  the  sea  in  words  of  pure,  virgin 
gold,  that  will  live  long  after  he  from  whose  lips  they  fell 


474  HENKY  w.   <JI:ADY, 

has  returned  to  dust.  Mr.  Grady's  effort  on  that  occasion 
attracted  the  admiration  of  the  whole  country.  He  spoke 
as  one  inspired,  and  his  pathetic  words  at  times  moved 
strong  men  to  tears  and  made  a  lasting  impression  upon  all 
who  were  privileged  to  hear  him.  When  he  resumed  his 
seat  exhausted  and  perspiring,  he  became  a  prey  to  the 
chilling  draughts  and  took  a  very  severe  cold.  The  even- 
ing next  folio  wing  he  was  banqueted  by  the  Bay  State  Club 
of  Boston,  and  when  he  arose  to  respond  to  a  happy  senti- 
ment offered  by  the  toastmaster  in  honor  of  the  guest  of  the 
evening,  he  could  scarcely  speak.  He  apologized  for  his 
condition  and  spoke  but  briefly,  and  when  he  had  finished 
the  company  arose  and  gave  him  a  double  round  of  cheers. 
Among  the  fine  sentiments  of  his  closing  words,  the  last  of 
his  public  utterances,  were  these  :  "  There  are  those  who 
want  to  fan  the  embers  of  war,  but  just  as  certain  as  there 
is  a  God  in  the  heaven,  when  these  uneasy  insects  of  the 
hour  perish  in  the  heat  that  gave  them  life,  the  great  clock 
of  this  Republic  will  tick  out  the  slow  moving  and  tranquil 
hour  and  the  watchmen  in  the  street  will  cry,  '  All  is  well ! 
All  is  well ! '  His  last  words  were  these  :  "  We  bring  to 
your  hearts  that  yearn  for  your  confidence  and  love,  the 
message  of  fellowship  from  our  home,  and  this  message 
comes  from  consecrated  ground — ground  consecrated  to  us 
by  those  who  died  in  defeat.  It  is  likely  that  I  shall  not 
again  see  Bostonians  assembled  together,  therefore  I  want 
to  take  this  occasion  to  thank  you  and  my  excellent  friends 
of  last  night,  and  those  friends  who  accompanied  us  this 
morning  to  Plymouth,  for  all  that  you  have  done  for  us 
since  we  have  been  here,  and  to  say  that  whenever  you  come 
South,  just  speak  your  name  and  remember  that  Boston 
and  Massachusetts  is  the  watchword,  and  we  will  meet  you 
at  the  gate." 

Mr.  Grady  returned  home  immediately,  and  his  friends, 
who  had  prepared  to  greet  him  with  a  great  reception,  met 
him  at  the  train  only  to  learn  that  he  was  sick  unto  death. 
He  was  carried  home  suffering  with  pneumonia  and  at  3:40 
A.M.  to-day  breathed  his  last.  The  nations  will  stop  amid 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  475 

the  Christmas  festivities  to  lay  upon  the  bier  of  the  dead 
Southerner  a  wealth  of  tenderness  and  love. 

It  was  as  an  editor  that  Grady  was  best  known.  His 
brilliant  and  forceful  contributions  made  the  Atlanta  Con- 
stitution famous  from  one  end  of  this  broad  land  to  the 
other.  As  an  orator  he  was  master  of  an  accurate  and 
rhythmical  diction  which  swept  through  sustained  flights 
to  majestic  altitudes.  We  will  deal  with  the  statistical 
record  of  his  life  at  another  time,  and  can  only  add  here 
that  it  is  a  matter  for  sincere  regret  that  he  has  been  taken 
away  before  he  had  reached  the  summit  of  his  fame  or  the 
meridian  of  his  usefulness. 


SAD  NEWS. 


From  the  "  Boston  Advertiser" 

THE  untimely  death  yesterday  of  Henry  Woodfin  Grady 
is  sad  news.  He  was  predisposed  to  lung  diseases,  and  the 
circumstances  of  his  visit  to  Boston  were  most  unfortunate. 
The  weather  was  very  mild  when  he  arrived  here,  but 
became  suddenly  chill  and  wintry  just  before  his  departure. 
Half  our  native  population  seemed  to  have  caught  cold 
owing  to  the  sudden  and  severe  change  in  temperature,  and 
Mr.  Grady  contracted  pneumonia  in  its  most  violent  form, 
so  that  he  grew  steadily  worse  to  the  end.  His  trip  to 
Boston  was  eagerly  anticipated,  both  because  he  had  never 
been  in  New  England,  and  also  for  the  reason  that  the 
greatest  interest  had  been  created  both  North  and. South 
over  the  announcement  that  he  would  speak  on  the  race 
problem.  The  impression  made  by  his  address — for  it  rose 
far  above  the  ordinary  after-dinner  speech — is  still  strong, 
and  the  expectation  created  in  the  South  is  attested  by  the 
fact  that  a  body-guard,  as  it  were,  of  admiring  friends 
from  among  leading  representative  Southerners  made  the 
trip  with  Mr.  Grady  for  the  express  purpose  of  hearing  his 
exposition  of  the  race  problem. 


476  IIK.NKY    W. 

Of  Mr.  Grady's  address  there  is  nothing  new  to  add. 
It  was  one  of  the  finest  specimens  of  elegant  and  fervid 
oratory  which  this  generation  lias  heard.  It  met  the  fond- 
est anticipations  of  his  friends,  and  the  people  of  his 
native  State  had  planned  to  pay  him  extraordinary  honors 
for  the  sui-passing  manner  in  which  he  plead  their  cause. 
The  address,  considered  in  all  respects,  was  superior  to 
that  which  he  delivered  in  New  York  and  which  won 
national  reputation  for  him.  His  treatment  of  the  race 
problem  was  in  no  respect  new,  and  it  met  with  only  a 
limited  approval,  but  while  he  did  not  convince,  Mr.  Grady 
certainly  won  from  the  North  a  larger  measure  of  intelli- 
gent appreciation  of  the  problem  laid  upon  the  South.  It 
was  impossible  not  to  perceive  his  sincerity,  and  we  recog- 
nized in  him  and  in  his  address  the  type  and  embodiment 
of  the  most  advanced  sentiment  in  the  generation  which 
has  sprung  up  at  the  South  since  the  war.  Mr.  Grady's 
father  lost  his  life  in  the  Confederate  army ;  Mr.  Grady 
himself  spoke  in  the  North  to  Union  veterans  and  their 
sons.  It  was  perhaps  impossible,  from  the  natural  envi- 
ronments of  the  situation,  that  he  should  speak  to  the 
entire  acceptance  of  his  auditors,  or  that  he  should  give 
utterance  to  the  ultimate  policy  which  will  prevail  in  the 
settlement  of  the  race  problem.  But  we  of  the  North  can 
and  do  say  that  Mr.  Grady  has  made  it  easier  for  one  of 
another  generation,  removed  from  the  war,  to  see  with 
clearer  vision  and  to  speak  to  the  whole  country  on  the 
race  problem  with  greater  acceptance  than  would  now  be 
possible.  To  have  done  this  is  to  do  much,  and  it  is  in 
striking  contrast  with  the  latter  day  efforts  of  that  other 
great  figure  in  Southern  life  who  has  but  lately  gone  down 
to  the  grave  unreconciled. 

The  North  laments  the  death  of  Mr.  Grady,  and  sin- 
cerely trusts  that  his  mantle  as  an  apostle  of  the  New 
South  will  fall  upon  worthy  shoulders.  Business  interests 
are  bringing  the  North  and  South  together  at  a  wonder- 
fully rapid  rate.  This  is  not  the  day  nor  the  generation  in 
which  to  witness  perfect  that  substantial  agreement  for 


HIS    LIFK,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  477 

which  we  all  hope.  But  we  are  confident  that  if  to  the 
firmness  of  the  Northern  views  upon  the  civil  rights  of  the 
black  man  there  be  added  a  fuller  measure  of  sympathy 
for  those  who  must  work  out  the  problem,  and  if  Mi-. 
Grady's  spirit  of  loyalty,  national  pride  and  brotherly 
kindness  becomes  deeply  rooted  in  the  South,  the  future 
will  be  promising  for  the  successful  solution  of  that  prob- 
lem which  weighs  so  heavily  upon  every  lover  of  his 
country. 


A  LEADER  OF  LEADERS. 


From  the  "  Philadelphia  Times.'1'' 

THE  death  of  Henry  W.  Grady,  chief  editor  of  the 
Atlanta  Constitution,  is  an  irreparable  loss  to  the  South. 
Of  all  the  many  and  influential  newspaper  men  of  that  sec- 
tion, Mr.  Grady  can  only  be  compared  with  Mr.  Watter- 
son,  of  the  Louisville  Courier -Journal,  in  point  of  dis- 
tinction ;  and  while  Watterson  is  the  better  equipped  jour- 
nnlist,  Grady  was  the  greater  popular  leader.  He  was  not 
only  a  brilliant  and  forceful  writer,  but  a  most  eloquent 
and  impressive  speaker,  and  one  of  the  most  sagacious  in 
council. 

Mr.  Grady  was  only  ten  years  old  when  the  civil  war 
spread  its  terrible  pall  over  the  land,  and  he  was  only  a 
school-boy  when  his  native  South  was  left  defeated,  deso- 
lated and  despairing  by  the  failure  of  the  Confederacy. 
He  grew  up  with  the  new  generation  that  is  so  rapidly 
succeeding  the  actors  of  that  great  conflict  in  both  sections. 
He  escaped  the  luxury  and  effeminacy  of  fortune  ;  he  had 
to  grapple  with  poverty  amidst  an  almost  hopeless  people  ; 
and  he  was  one  of  the  earliest  of  the  new  generation  to 
rise  to  the  full  stature  of  manly  duty.  Thoroughly  South- 
ern in  sympathy,  and  keenly  sharing  the  memories  which 
are  sacred  to  all  who  wore  and  supported  the  gray,  he  saw 


478  IIKXRY   W.    GKADY, 

the  new  occasion  with  its  new  duties  as  the  latent  wealth 
of  the  South,  that  so  long  slumbered  under  the  blight  of 
slavery,  gave  promise  of  development ;  and  alike  in  his  own 
Empire  State  of  the  South,  and  in  the  great  metropolis  of 
the  Union  and  in  the  Bay  State  citadel  of  opposite  political 
views,  he  ever  declared  the  same  sentiments  and  cemented 
the  bond  of  common  brotherhood. 

And  no  other  young  man  of  the  South  gave  so  much 
promise  of  future  honors  and  usefulness  as  did  Mr.  Grady. 
He  has  fallen  ere  he  had  reached  the  full  noontide  of  life, 
and  when  his  public  career  was  just  at  its  threshold.  He 
could  have  been  United  States  Senator  at  the  last  election 
had  he  not  given  his  plighted  faith  to  another ;  and  even 
with  the  office  left  to  go  by  default,  it  was  with  reluctance 
that  the  Legislature,  fresh  from  the  people,  passed  him  by 
in  obedience  to  his  own  command.  That  he  would  have 
been  leader  of  leaders  in  the  South,  yea,  in  the  whole 
Union,  is  not  doubted ;  and  he  was  the  one  man  of  the 
present  in  the  South  who  might  have  been  called  to  the 
Vice-Presidency  had  his  life  been  spared.  He  was  free 
from  the  blemish  of  the  Confederate  Brigadier,  that  is 
ever  likely  to  be  an  obstacle  to  a  popular  election  to  the 
Presidency  or  Vice-Presidency,  and  he  was  so  thoroughly 
and  so  grandly  typical  of  the  New  South,  with  its  new 
pulsations,  its  new  progress,  its  new  patriotism,  that  his 
political  promotion  seemed  plainly  written  in  the  records 
of  fate. 

But  Henry  W.  Grady  has  fallen  in  the  journey  with  his 
face  yet  looking  to  the  noonday  sun,  and  it  is  only  the  vin- 
dication of  truth  to  say  that  he  leaves  no  one  who  can  fully 
take  his  place.  Other  young  men  of  the  South  will  have 
their  struggling  paths  brightened  by  the  refulgence  his 
efforts  and  achievements  reflect  upon  them,  but  to-day  his 
death  leaves  a  gap  in  Southern  leadership  that  will  not  be 
speedily  filled.  And  he  will  be  mourned  not  only  by  those 
who  sympathized  with  him  in  public  effort.  He  was  one 
of  the  most  genial,  noble  and  lovable  of  men  in  every  rela- 
tion of  life,  and  from  the  homes  of  Georgia,  and  from  the 


Ills    1.  1  IK,    WRITINGS,    AND    SPEECHES.  479 

by-ways  of  the  sorrowing  as  well  as  from  the  circles  of  am- 
bition, there  will  be  sobbing  hearts  over  the  grave  of  Henry 
W.  Grady. 


A  FORCEFUL  ADVOCATE. 


From  the  "  Springfield,  Mass.,  Republican" 

THE  death  of  Henry  Woodfin  Grady.  the  brilliant 
young  Southern  editor  and  orator,  which  took  place  at 
Atlanta,  Ga.,  was  almost  tragic  in  its  suddenness;  it  will 
make  a  profound  impression  at  the  South,  and  will  be 
deeply  deplored  here  at  the  North,  where  he  had  come  to 
be  known  as  a  florid  yet  forceful  advocate  and  apologist  of 
his  section.  He  had  lately  caught  the  ear  of  the  country, 
and  while  his  speeches  provoked  critical  replies,  it  may  be 
said  in  his  honor  that  he,  more  than  any  other  Southerner, 
had  lifted  the  plane  of  sectional  debate  from  that  of  futile 
recriminations  to  more  dignified  and  candid  interchanges 
of  opinion.  That  is  saying  much  for  a  man  who  was  a  lad 
during  the  rebellion,  and  who  had  not  passed  his  thirty- 
ninth  birthday.  He  was  a  man  of  pronounced  views,  per- 
haps given  more  to  pictures  of  prosperity  than  to  the 
methods  of  its  attainment,  and  when  upon  the  platform 
he  carried  the  crowd  by  the  force  of  that  genius  for  pas- 
sionate appeals  which  his  Irish  ancestry  and  Southern 
training  had  given  him  in  full  measure.  No  Southerner 
had  put  the  conflict  of  races  in  so  reassuring  a  light ;  but 
he  was  not  old  enough  or  far-seeing  enough  to  realize  that 
the  problem  can  and  will  be  solved, — and  that  by  South- 
erners. 

Mr.  Grady  called  about  him  a  formidable  group  of 
young  Democrats  filled  with  the  spirit  of  the  New  South. 
They  believed  that  Georgia  would  rise  and  the  South  be 
reconstructed  in  the  broadest  sense  by  the  multiplication 
of  factories  and  the  advancement  of  trade.  These  young 
men  selected  Gov.  Colquitt  for  their  standard-bearer  in  the 


480  HKXKY    W.    GKADY, 

State  election  of  1880,  and  Mr.  Grady  was  made  chairman 
of  the  compaign  committee.  Colquitt  during  his  first 
term  had  offended  the  Democratic  regulars,  and  the  young 
men  carried  the  war  into  the  back  country.  The  vote  at 
the  primaries  was  unprecedentedly  heavy.  Colquitt  carried 
the  State  and  was  the  first  governor  elected  under  the  new 
constitution.  Grady  never  held  public  office,  but  it  was 
supposed  that  he  had  been  selected  by  the  Democratic 
leaders  as  Gov.  Gordon's  successor,  and  many  thought 
that  he  was  angling  for  the  second  place  on  the  Demo- 
cratic national  ticket  in  1892. 

The  attention  of  the  North  was  first  called  to  the  bril- 
liant Georgian  by  his  address  at  New  York  in  June,  1887, 
at  the  annual  dinner  of  the  New  England  Society.  His 
speech  at  the  Washington  Centennial  banquet  last  spring 
was  rather  a  disappointment,  but  he  fully  recovered  his 
prestige  the  other  day  at  Boston,  where  he  shared  the 
honors  of  a  notable  occasion  with  Grover  Cleveland.  Mr. 
Grady  found  time  from  his  editorial  work  to  write  an  occa- 
sional magazine  article,  but  his  subject  was  his  one  absorb- 
ing study — the  South  and  its  future. 


HIS  GREAT  WORK. 


From  the  "Boston  Post." 

THE  death  of  the  brilliant  young  Southerner  whose 
eloquence  yet  rings  in  our  ears  followed  so  closely  upon 
his  visit  to  Boston  that  it  doubtless  arouses  a  keener  sense 
of  regret  and  a  clearer  realization  of  loss  here  than  in  other 
communities.  Mr.  Grady,  moreover,  in  speaking  for  the 
New  South,  whose  aspirations  he  so  ably  represented,  while 
addressing  the  whole  nation,  yet  brought  himself  more 
closely  to  New  England  in  his  arguments,  his  contrasts  and 
his  fervid  appeals  ;  and,  whether  it  was  admiration  of  his 
courage  in  combating  the  remnants  of  traditional  prejudices 


HIS    LI  I--K,    WIMTIN(iS,    AM)     Sl'KlJ  II  KS.  481 

• 

in  the  heart  of  the  section  in  which  this  ft  -cling  once  was 
the  strongest,  or  a  sympathy  with  the  sentiments  which 
he  expressed  in  such  captivating  language,  it  cannot  be 
doubted  that  the  warmest  recognition  which  he  has  received 
outside  his  own  State  is  that  which  he  won  from  this  com- 
munity. 

In  all  his  efforts  to  spread  that  knowledge  of  the  senti- 
ments and  the  purposes  of  the  South  which  would  tend  to 
make  the  restored  union  of  the  States  more  secure  and  more 
harmonious,  Mr.  Grady  has  addressed  himself  especially  to 
New  England.  It  was  at  the  meeting  of  the  New  England 
Society  in  New  York,  in  1886,  that  he  made  the  first  notable 
speech  which  evoked  such  a  ready  and  generous  response 
from  all  sections  of  the  country  ;  and  the  last  public  words 
which  he  spoke  in  furtherance  of  the  same  purpose  were 
those  delivered  upon  Plymouth  Kock  at  the  end  of  the 
recent  visit  which  he  described  as  a  pilgrimage. 

It  is  seldom,  indeed,  that  a  people  or  an  idea  has  the 
fortune  to  possess  such  an  advocate  as  Mr.  Grady.  He  not 
only  knew  where  to  carry  his  plea,  but  he  had  a  rare  gift 
of  eloquence  in  presenting  it.  Whether  Mr.  Grady,  as  his 
field  of  effort  enlarged,  would  have  developed  a  more  varied 
talent  as  an  orator,  can  never  be  known  ;  but  in  the  illustra- 
tion of  the  one  subject  on  which  he  made  himself  heard 
before  the  people  he  showed  himself  a  master  of  the  art. 
On  this  topic,  full  of  inspiration  for  him,  he  spoke  with  a 
brilliancy  and  power  which  were  unapproachable.  Since 
Wendell  Phillips,  there  is  none  possessed  of  such  a  strength 
of  fervid  eloquence  as  that  which  this  young  man  dis- 
played. Much  of  the  effect  produced  by  his  speeches,  of 
course,  must  be  attributed  to  the  existence  of  a  sentiment 
seldom  aroused,  but  ready  to  respond  to  such  an  appeal ; 
but  when  every  allowance  is  made  for  the  circumstances 
•!  under  which  he  achieved  his  triumphs  of  oratory,  there 
remains  the  inimitable  charm  which  gave  power  and  effect 
to  his  words. 

If  Mr.  Grady  had  been  simply  a  rhetorician,  his  place  in 
the  public  estimation  would  be  far  different  from  that  which 


482  HKNKY    \v.   <;KADY, 

is  now  accorded  him.  Without  the  talent  which  he  pos- 
sessed in  so  ivmarkable  degree,  he  could  not  have  produced 
the  effect  which  he  did  ;  but  back  of  the  manner  in  which 
he  said  what  ho  had  to  say,  which  moved  men  to  tears  and 
to  applause,  were  the  boldness,  the  frankness  and  the  entire 
sincerity  of  the  man.  His  words  brought  conviction  as  his 
•ilowin^-  phrases  stirred  the  sentiment  of  his  hearers,  and 
amid  all  the  embellishments  of  oratory  there  was  presented 
the  substantial  fabric  of  fact.  His  last  speech  in  Boston 
A\as  as  strong  in  its  argument  as  it  was  delightful  in  its 
rhetoric. 

The  influence  which  Mr.  Grady  has  exerted  upon  the 
great  movement  which  has  consolidated  the  Union  and 
brought  the  South  forward  in  the  march  of  industrial  de- 
velopment cannot  now  be  estimated.  He  has  not  lived  to 
see  the  realization  of  what  he  hoped.  But  there  can  be  no 
doubt  that  his  short  life  of  activity  in  the  great  work  will 
have  far-reaching  results. 


NEW  ENGLAND'S  SORROW. 


From  the   "Boston  Herald." 

THE  death  of  Henry  W.  Grady  comes  at  a  time  and 
under  conditions  which  will  cause  a  deep  feeling  of  sorrow 
and  regret  in  the  minds  of  the  people  of  New  England. 
He  came  to  us  only  a  few  days  ago  as  a  representative  of  our 
Southern  fellow-countrymen,  grasping  the  hand  of  good 
will  that  was  extended  to  him,  and  professing,  in  the  elo- 
quent addresses  that  he  made,  a  desire  to  do  all  that  he 
could  to  allay  any  differences  of  opinion  or  prejudices  that 
mii: lit  exist  between  the  people  of  the  North  and  those 
of  the  South.  One  means  of  doing  this,  and  one  which 
appealed  particularly  to  the  inhabitants  of  New  England, 
was  the  unquestioned  admiration  that  he  had  for  our  tra- 
ditions and  institutions,  an  admiration  which  he  owned 


ins  1,11-1:.    \vurn\iis,    AM»    SIM 

was  so  far  cherished  in  the  South  as  to  lead  many  of  its 
people  to  copy  our  methods.  The  New  South  was  a 
change  from  the  Old  South,  for  the  reason  that  its  people 
were  discarding  their  former  theories  and  opinions,  and 
were  to  a  large  degree  copying  those  which  we  have  always 
held. 

It  is  needless  at  this  time  to  speak  of  Mr.  Grady's 
attempt  to  defend  the  Southern  method  of  settling  the  race 
problem,  but,  although  there  were  many  who  believed  that 
he  did  not  fully  make  out  his  case,  his  statement  of  it  threw 
a  light  upon  the  question  which  was  probably  new  to  a 
large  number  of  those  who  heard  or  read  his  words. 

Of  Mr.  Grady's  eloquence  it  can  be  said  that  it  was 
spontaneity  itself.  Rarely  has  a  man  been  gifted  with  so 
remarkable  a  command  of  language  and  so  complete  a 
knowledge  of  its  felicitous  use.  There  was  in  his  address 
an  exuberance  of  fancy  which  age  and  a  wider  experience 
of  men  and  methods  would  have  qualified,  but  no  one 
can  doubt  that  this  gift  of  his,  combined  as  it  was  with 
high  intentions  and  honesty  of  purpose,  would  have  made 
of  him  in  a  few  years  more,  if  he  had  been  spared,  a  man 
of  national  importance  in  the  affairs  of  our  country. 

It  is  sad  to  think  that  this  young  and  promising  life 
was  thus  unexpectedly  cut  off,  and  by  causes  which  seem 
to  have  been  avoidable  ones.  It  is  probable  that  Mr.  Grady 
unconsciously  overtaxed  himself  on  his  Northern  trip.  He 
arrived  in  this  city  suffering  from  a  severe  cold,  which 
would  probably  have  yielded  to  a  day  or  two  of  complete 
rest.  But  not  only  were  there  fixed  appointments  which 
he  had  come  here  to  meet,  but  new  engagements  and  duties 
were  assumed,  so  that  during  his  short  stay  here  he  was 
not  only  in  a  whirl  of  mental  excitement,  but  was  under- 
going constant  physical  exposure. 

A  man  of  less  rugged  strength  would  have  yielded 
under  this  trial  before  it  was  half  over,  but  Mr.  Grady's 
physique  carried  him  through,  and  those  who  heard  his 
last  speech,  probably  the  last  he  ever  delivered,  at  the  din- 
ner of  the  Bay  State  Club,  will  remember  that,  though  he 


484  IIF.XKY   \\ .  <. i:\nv, 

excused  himself  on  account  of  his  physical  disabilities,  the 
extemporaneous  address  was  full  of  the  Jin-  mid  pathos  of 
his  native  eloquence.  But,  although  unaware  of  the  sacri- 
fice he  was  making,  it  is  probable  that  Mr.  Grady  weakened 
himself  by  these  over-exertions  to  an  extent  that  made  him 
an  easy  prey  to  the  subtle  advance  of  disease. 

His  death  causes  a  vacancy  that  cannot  easily  be  filled. 
The  South  was  in  need,  and  in  years  to  come  may  be  in 
still  greater  need,  of  an  advocate  such  as  he  would  have 
been.  She  will,  no  doubt,  find  substitutes  for  this  journal- 
ist-orator, but  we  doubt  whether  any  of  these  will,  in  so 
short  a  time,  win  by  their  words  the  attention  of  the  entire 
American  people  or  so  deservedly  hold  their  respect  and 
admiration. 


A  NOBLE  LIFE  ENDED. 


From  the  "Philadelphia  Telegraph." 

THE  country  will  be  startled  to  learn  of  the  death  of 
Henry  W.  Grady.  No  man  within  the  past  three  years 
has  come  so  suddenly  before  the  American  people,  occupy- 
ing so  large  a  share  of  interested  attention  not  only  in  the 
South,  but  in  the  North.  None  has  wielded  a  greater 
influence  or  made  for  himself  a  higher  place  in  the  public 
regard.  The  career  of  Mr.  Grady  reads  like  a  romance. 
Like  a  true  Georgian,  he  was  born  with  the  instincts  of  his 
people  developed  to  a  marked  degree,  and  his  rise  to  a 
position  of  honor  and  usefulness  was  certain,  should  his 
life  be  spared.  But  like  the  average  man,  even  in  this 
country  of  free  opportunities,  he  had  to  fight  his  way  over 
obstacles  which  would  have  discouraged  if  not  crushed  out 
the  spirit  of  a  less  courageous  and  indomitable  man.  He 
was  too  young  to  take  any  part  in  the  late  great  internal 
strife,  but  as  a  bright-minded  boy  he  emerged  from  that 
contest  with  vivid  and  bitter  memories,  an  orphan,  his 
father  having  fallen  beneath  the  "  Stars  and  Bars."  His 


MIS    L1KK,     UHITI.M. S,     AM)     sl'KKcIIES.  485 

young  manhood,  while  not  altogether  clouded  by  poverty, 
started  him  upon  the  battle  of  life  without  any  special 
favoring  circumstances,  and  without  the  support  of  influ- 
ential Mends  to  do  for  him  iu  a  measure  what  doubtless 
would  gladly  have  been  done  could  his  future  have  been 
foreseen.  But  he  started  out  for  himself,  and  in  the  rug- 
ged school  of  experience  was  severely  taught  the  lessons 
of  self-reliance  and  individual  energy  which  were  to  pre- 
pare him  for  the  responsibilities  of  intellectual  leadership 
amongst  a  people  in  a  sadly  disorganized  condition,  who 
were  groping  in  the  dark,  as  it  were,  seeking  the  light  of 
prosperity.  He  never  but  for  a  short  time  left  his  own 
State,  and  as  his  field  of  observation  and  work  enlarged 
and  his  influence  extended,  his  love  for  it  seemed  to  grow 
more  intense.  It  became  with  him,  indeed,  a  passion  that 
was  always  conspicuous,  and  upon  which  he  loved  to  dwell, 
with  pen  or  tongue,  and  some  of  his  tributes  to  the  Empire 
Commonwealth  of  the  South,  as  he  loved  to  call  it,  will 
proudly  be  recorded  by  the  future  historian  of  the  annals 
of  the  time. 

It  was  as  an  active  editor  of  the  Atlanta  Constitution 
that  Mr.  Grady  found  the  sphere  of  labor  in  which  he  was 
to  win  high  honor,  and  from  which  he  was  to  send  out  an 
influence  measured  only  by  the  boundaries  of  the  South 
itself,  if  it  did  not  extend,  in  fact,  to  the  borders  of  the 
nation.  He  wrote  and  spoke,  when  appearing  in  public, 
from  a  patriotic  and  full  heart.  His  utterances  were  those 
of  a  man  deeply  in  love  with  his  country,  and  earnestly 
desirous  of  promoting  her  highest  prosperity  and  happi- 
ness. Some  of  his  deliverances  were  prose  poems  that  will 
be  read  with  delight  by  future  generations  of  Southern 
youth.  They  came  forth  flashing  like  meteors,  doubtless 
to  the  astonishment  of  their  author  himself,  for  he  seemed 
to  reach  national  prominence  at  a  single  bound.  There 
were  times  when  Mr.  Grady  seemed  to  falter  and  slip  aside 
in  discussing  some  of  the  burning  questions  of  the  hour, 
but  this  was  dueto  his  u-ivat  sympathy  with  his  own  people, 
his  toleration  of  their  prejudices,  and  his  desire  to  keep  step 


486  IIKNUV     \V.    (JIJADV, 

\\illi  tin-in  and  be  one  with  them  throughout  his  work  in 
their  behalf.  But  he  was  an  ardent  young  patriot,  a  /<-al- 
ous  and  true  friend  of  progress,  and  the  New  South  will 
miss  him  as  it  would  miss  no  other  man  of  the  time.  He 
seta  brilliant  example  to  the  younger  men  as  well.  I  It- 
reached  for  and  grasped  with  a  hearty  grip  the  hand  of  the 
North  in  the  spirit  of  true  fraternity,  and  it  is  a  pathetic 
incident  that  the  climax  to  his  career  should  have  been  an 
address  in  the  very  center  of  the  advanced  thought  of  New 
England.  His  death  seems  almost  tragic,  and  doubtless 
was  indirectly,  at  least,  due  to  the  immense  pace  at  which 
he  had  been  traveling  within  the  past  three  years  ;  a  victim 
of  the  prevailing  American  vice  of  intellectual  men,  driving 
the  machine  at  a  furious  rate,  when  suddenly  the  silver 
cord  is  loosed,  the  golden  bowl  is  broken,  and  the  people 
of  the  Southland  will  go  mourning  for  one  who  ought,  they 
will  sadly  think,  to  have  been  spared  them  for  many  years, 
to  help  them  work  out  their  political,  industrial,  and  social 
salvation.  The  name  of  Henry  W.  Grady  is  sure  of  an 
enduring  and  honored  place  in  the  history  of  the  State  of 
Georgia,  and  in  the  annals  of  the  public  discussions  in  the 
American  press,  during  a  time  of  great  importance,  of 
questions  of  vast  concern  to  the  whole  people. 


A  TYPICAL  SOUTHERNER. 


From  the  "  Chicago   Tribune." 

IN  the  death  of  Henry  W.  Grady  the  South  has  lost  one 
of  its  most  eminent  citizens  and  the  newspaper  press  of  the 
whole  country  one  of  its  most  brilliant  and  dashing  editors. 
He  was  a  typical  Southerner,  impulsive,  sentimental,  emo- 
tional, and  magnetic  in  his  presence  and  speech,  possessing 
those  qualities  which  Henry  Watterson  once  said  were 
characteristic  of  Southerners  as  compared  with  the  reason- 
ing, reflective,  mathematical  nature  of  Northern  men.  His 


HIS    LIFK,    WKITINtJS,     AND     SPEECHES. 

death  will  be  a  sad  loss  to  his  paper  and  to  the  journalism 
of  the  whole  country.  He  was  a  high-toned,  chivalrous 
gentleman,  and  a  brilliant,  enthusiastic,  and  able  editor, 
who  worked  his  way  to  the  top  by  the  sheer  force  of  his 
native  ability  and  gained  a  wide  circle  of  admirers,  not  alone 
by  his  indefatigable  and  versatile  pen  but  also  by  the  mag- 
netism and  eloquence  of  his  oratory.  It  is  a  matter  for 
profound  regret  that  a  journalist  of  such  abilities  and 
promise  should  have  been  cut  off  even  before  he  had 
reached  his  prime. 


HIS  NAME  A  HOUSEHOLD  POSSESSION. 


From  the  "Independence,  Mo.t  Sentinel." 

A  FEW  years  ago  there  shot  athwart  the  sky  of  Southern 
journalism  a  meteor  of  unusual  brilliancy.  From  its  first 
flash  to  its  last  expiring  spark  it  was  glorious,  beautiful, 
strong.  It  gave  light  where  there,  had  been  darkness, 
strength  where  there  had  been  weakness,  hope  where  there 
had  been  despair.  To  the  faint-hearted  it  had  given  cheer, 
to  the  timid  courage,  to  the  weary  vigor  and  energy. 

The  electric  wires  yesterday  must  have  trembled  with 
emotion  while  flashing  to  the  outside  world  the  startling 
intelligence  that  Henry  W.  Grady,  the  editor  of  the  Atlanta 
Constitution,  was  dead.  It  was  only  last  week  this  same 
world  was  reading  the  touching  and  pathetic  tribute  his 
pen  had  paid  to  the  dead  Southern  chief  ;  or  less  than  a 
week,  listening  with  pleased  and  attentive  ears  to  the  silver 
tones  of  his  oratory  at  the  base  of  Plymouth  Rock,  as  he 
plead  for  fair  play  for  the  people  of  his  own  sunny  South- 
land. 

Henry  W.  Grady  was  one  of  the  foremost  journalists  of 
the  day.  He  was  still  numbered  among  the  young  men  of 
the  Republic,  yet  his  name  and  fame  had  already  become 
a  household  possession  in  every  part  of  the  Union.  IS'ot 


-jss  III:M:\    \v.   <,RAI>Y, 

only  was  he  :i  writer  of  n-markable  vigor,  but  he  was  also 
a.  finished  oi-alor  and  a  skillful  diplomat.  As  a  writer  In- 
combined  the  Unish  of  aPn-ntiss  with  the  strength  and 
vigor  of  a  Greeley.  Not  so  profuse,  possibly,  as  Watter- 
son,  he  was  yet  more  solid  and  consistent.  By  force  of 
genius  he  had  trodden  difficulty  and  failure  under  foot  and 
had  climbed  to  the  highest  rung  of  the  ladder. 

By  his  own  people  he  was  idolized — by  those  of  other 
sections  highly  esteemed.  Whenever  he  wrote  all  classes 
read.  When  he  spoke,  all  people  listened. 

He  was  a  genuine  product  of  the  South,  yet  he  was 
thoroughly  National  in  his  views.  The  vision  of  his  intelli- 
gence took  in  not  only  Georgia  and  Alabama,  but  all  the 
States  ;  for  he  believed  in  the  Republic  and  was  glad  the 
South  was  a  part  of  it. 

His  death  is  not  only  a  loss  to  Atlanta  and  Georgia,  to 
the  South  and  the  North,  but  a  calamity  to  journalism. 


EDITOR,   ORATOR,   STATESMAN,   PATRIOT. 


From  the  "  Kansas  City  Globe.'1'' 

IN  the  death  of  Henry  W.  Grady  the  South  has  lost  one 
of  its  foremost  and  best  men.  He  was  pre-eminently  the 
foremost  man  of  the  South,  and  to  the  credit  of  the  section 
it  can  be  said  that  he  had  not  attained  to  such  a  position 
by  services  in  the  past,  but  by  duty  conceived  and  well  dis- 
charged in  the  present.  He  was  not  a  creature  of  the  war, 
but  was  born  of  the  events  succeeding  the  war  and  which, 
in  turn,  he  has  helped  to  shape  for  the  good  of  the  South, 
in  a  way  that  has  represented  a  sentiment  which  has 
induced  immigration  and  the  investment  of  capital,  so 
that,  short  as  has  been  the  span  of  his  life  of  usefulness, 
it  has  been  long  enough  to  see  the  realizat  ion  of  his  greatest 
ambition  and  hopes — the  South  redeemed  from  the  despair 


HIS    Ml-1!-:,     \VIMTI  N<!S,    AM)    M'Kl.rllKS.  480 

of  defeat  and  made  a  prosperous  part  of  a  great  nation  and 
a  factor  in  working  out  a  glorious  future  for  a  reunited 
people. 

Intensely  Southern  in  his  sentiments,  devotedly 
attached  to  his  section  and  as  proud  of  it  in  poverty  and 
defeat  as  in  the  day  of  its  present  prosperity,  to  which  he 
much  contributed,  Henry  W.  Grady  comprehended  the  sit- 
uation as  soon  as  man's  estate  allowed  him  to  begin  the 
work  of  his  life,  and  he  set  about  making  a  New  South,  in 
no  sense,  as  he  claimed  in  his  famous  Boston  speech,  in 
disparagement  of  the  Old  South,  but  because  new  ideas 
had  taken  root,  because  of  new  conditions  ;  and  the  new 
ideas  he  cultivated  to  a  growth  that  opened  a  better  senti- 
ment throughout  the  South,  produced  a  better  apprecia- 
tion of  Southern  sentiment  in  the  North,  and  helped  to 
harmonize  the  difference  between  the  sections  that  war 
sought  to  divide,  but  which  failing  still  left  "a  bloody 
chasm"  to  be  spanned  or  filled  up.  That  it  is  obliterated 
along  with  the  ramparts  of  fortresses  and  the  earthworks 
of  the  war,  is  as  much  due,  or  more,  to  Henry  W.  Grady 
than  any  man  who  has  lived  in  the  South,  a  survivor  of  the 
war,  or  brought  out  of  its  sequences  into  prominence. 

Early  appreciating  the  natural  advantages,  the  undevel- 
oped resources  of  the  South,  he  has  advocated  as  editor 
and  orator  the  same  fostering  care  of  Southern  industry 
that  has  enabled  the  North  to  become  the  manufacturing 
competitor  with  any  people  of  the  world.  He  sought, 
during  his  life,  to  allay  the  political  prejudice  of  the  South 
and  the  political  suspicion  of  the  North,  and  to  bring  each 
section  to  a  comprehension  of  the  mutual  advantages  that 
would  arise  from  the  closest  social  and  business  relations. 
He  fought  well,  wrote  convincingly  and  spoke  eloquently 
to  this  end,  and  dying,  though  in  the  very  prime  of  his 
usefulness,  he  closed  his  eyes  upon  work  well  done,  upon 
a  New  South  that  will  endure  as  a  nobler  and  better  monu- 
ment to  his  memory  than  would  the  Confederacy,  if  it 
had  succeeded,  have  been  for  Jefferson  Davis. 

The  South  has  lost  its  ablest  and  best  exponent,  the  rep- 


490  IIKXKV   \v.  <;KAI»Y, 


of  tlie  South  as  it  is,  and  tlu>  whole  country  lias 
lost  a  noble  character,  whose  sanctified  mission,  largely 
successful,  was  to  make  the  country  one  in  sentiment,  as  it 
is  in  physical  fact. 


A  SOUTHERN  BEREAVEMENT. 


From  the  "  Cincinnati  Times-Star." 

THE  loss  which  the  Daily  Constitution  sustains  in  the 
death  of  Mr.  Grady  is  not  a  loss  to  a  newspaper  company 
only  ;  it  is  a  loss  to  Atlanta,  to  Georgia,  to  the  whole 
South.  Mr.  Grady  belonged  to  a  new  era  of  things  south 
of  the  Ohio  River.  He  was  never  found  looking  over  his 
shoulder  in  order  to  keep  in  sympathy  with  the  people 
among  whom  he  had  always  lived.  He  was  more  than 
abreast  of  the  times  in  the  South,  he  kept  a  little  in 
advance,  and  his  spirit  was  rapidly  becoming  contagious. 
He  wasted  no  time  sighing  over  the  past,  he  was  getting 
all  there  is  of  life  in  the  present  and  preparing  for  greater 
things  for  himself  and  the  South  in  the  future.  His  life 
expectancy  was  great,  for  though  already  of  national  repu- 
tation he  had  not  yet  reached  his  prime. 

There  was  much  of  the  antithetical  in  the  lives  of  the 
two  representative  Southern  men  who  have  but  just  passed 
away.  The  one  lived  in  the  past,  the  other  in  the  future. 
The  one  saw  but  little  hope  for  Southern  people  because 
the  "cause"  was  "lost,"  the  other  believed  in  a  mightier 
empire  still  because  the  Union  was  preserved.  The  one, 
full  of  years,  had  finished  his  course,  which  had  been  full 
of  mistakes.  The  other  had  not  only  kept  the  faith,  but 
had  barely  entered  upon  a  course  that  was  full  of  promise. 
The  one  was  the  ashes  of  the  past,  the  other,  like  the 
orange-tree  of  his  own  sunny  clime,  had  the  ripe  fruit  of 
the  present  and  the  bud  of  the  future.  The  death  of  the 


HI>   i, ii ••]•:,    WKITI.NC.S.   AM>    >i>i:i:ciiE8.  491 

one  was  longsinct>  discounted,  the  death  of  the  other  comes 
like  a  sudden  calamity  in  a  happy  Christinas  home.  The 
North  joins  the  South  to-day  in  mourning  for  Grady. 


A  MAN  WHO  WILL  BE  MISSED. 


THE  death  of  Mr.  Henry  W.  Grady,  of  the  Atlanta  Con- 
.V//7////OM,  is  a  loss  to  South  and  North  alike.  The  section 
which  poured  out  a  few  days  ago  its  tributes  of  regret  for 
the  leader  of  the  Southern  Confederacy  may  well  dye  its 
mourning  a  deeper  hue  in  memory  of  this  greater  and  bet- 
ter man,  whose  useful  life  is  cut  short  before  he  had 
reached  his  prime.  Mr.  Grady  has  held  a  peculiar  and 
trying  position  ;  and  in  it  he  has  done  more,  perhaps,  than 
any  other  one  man  to  make  the  two  sections  separated  by 
the  War  of  the  Rebellion  understand  each  other,  and  to 
bring  them  from  a  mere  observance  of  what  we  might  call 
a  political  modus  Vivendi  to  a  cordial  and  real  union.  It 
was  not  as  a  journalist,  although  in  his  profession  he  was 
both  strong  and  brilliant,  it  was  rather  as  the  earnest  and 
eloquent  representative  of  the  New  South,  and  as  the 
spokesman  of  her  people  that  he  had  acquired  national 
prominence.  He  was  one  of  the  few  who  both  cared  and 
dared  to  tell  to  the  people  of  either  section  some  truths 
about  themselves  and  about  the  other  that  were  wholesome 
if  they  were  not  altogether  palatable.  He  was  wholly  and 
desperately  in  earnest.  He  had  much  of  the  devotion  to 
his  own  section  and  his  own  State  that  characterized  the 
Southerner  before  the  war.  But  he  had  what  they  had 
not :  a  conception  of  national  unity  ;  of  the  power  and 
glory  and  honor  of  the  nation  as  a  whole,  that  made  him 
respected  everywhere.  Whether  he  appeared  in  Boston 
or  in  Atlanta,  he  was  sure  of  an  interested  and  sympa- 
thetic audience  ;  and  his  fervid  orations,  if  they  sometimes 


III-..NKV     W.    «.KADV, 


avoided  unpleasant  issues  and  dfck^d  with  flowers  the 
scarred  face  of  the  ugly  fact,  did  much,  nevertheless,  to 
t  ui-ii  the  eyes  of  the  people  away  from  the  past  and  toward 
tin-  future. 

\V«-  have  been  far  from  agreeing  with  Mr.  Grady's 
opinions,  either  socially  or  politically.  The  patriotic  peo- 
ple of  the  North  can  have  no  sympathy  with  the  attempt 
to  cover  with  honor  the  memory  of  treason,  which  found 
in  him  an  ardent  apologist.  We  believe  that  we  have 
gone  to  the  limit  of  magnanimity  when  we  agree  to  forego 
question  and  memory,  and  simply  treat  the  men  who  led 
and  the  men  who  followed  in  the  effort  to  destroy  the 
nation  as  if  that  effort  had  never  been  made.  And  we  do 
not  hold  that  man  as  guilty  of  sectionalism  and  treason  to 
a  reunited  country  who  talks  hotly  of  "rebels"  and  sneers 
at  "brigadiers,"  as  that  man  who  speaks  of  these  leaders 
of  a  lost  cause  as  "  patriots,"  obedient  to  the  call  of  duty. 
To  that  error  Mr.  Grady,  in  common  with  other  leaders  of 
his  time,  inclined  the  people  of  his  section.  Politically  he 
was,  of  course,  through  good  or  through  evil  report,  an 
uncompromising  Democrat.  Nor  can  we  think  his  treat- 
ment of  the  race  issue  a  happy  one.  The  North  has  come, 
at  last,  to  do  justice  to  the  South  in  this  respect,  and  to 
acknowledge  that  the  problem  presented  to  her  for  solu- 
tion in  the  existence  there  of  two  races,  politically  equal 
before  the  law  but  forever  distinct  in  social  and  sentimen- 
tal relations,  is  the  gravest  and  most  difficult  in  our  his- 
tory. But  the  mere  plea  to  let  it  alone,  which  is  the  sub- 
stance of  Mr.  Grady's  repeated  appeal,  is  not  the  answer 
that  must  come.  It  is  not  worthy  of  the  people,  either 
North  or  South.  It  is  not  satisfactory,  it  is  not  final,  and 
the  present  demands  more  of  her  sons.  But,  in  presenting 
these  points  of  difference,  it  is  not  intended  to  undervalue 
the  work  which  Mr.  Grady  did  or  underestimate  the  value 
of  the  service  that  lay  before  him.  With  tongue  and  pen 
he  taught  his  people  the  beauty  and  the  value  of  that 
national  unity  into  which  we  have  been  reborn.  He 
sought  to  lead  them  out  of  the  bitterness  of  political  strife, 


in>  I.IFI:,   WIMTIN<;S.  AND  SPEECIH -. 

to  set  their  faces  toward  the  material  development  that  is 
always  a  serviceable  factor  in  the  solution  of  political 
problems,  and  to  make  of  the  new  South  something  worthy 
of  the  name.  The  work  that  he  did  was  worthy,  and  tin -re 
is  none  who  can  take  and  fill  his  place.  The  death  that 
plunged  the  South  in  mourning  a  short  time  ago  was 
merely  the  passing  of  an.unhealthful  reminiscence.  The 
death  of  Grady  is  a  sorrow  and  a  loss  in  which  her  people 
may  feel  that  the  regret  and  the  sympathy  of  the  North 
are  joined  with  theirs. 


AT  THE  BEGINNING  OF  A  GREAT  CAREER. 


From  the  "  Pittsburg  Post:' 

THE  death  of  Henry  W.  Grady  will  be  received  with 
profound  regret  throughout  the  Northern  States,  while  in 
the  South  there  will  be  deeper  and  more  heart-felt  sorrow 
than  the  death  of  Jefferson  Davis  called  forth.  The  book 
of  M"r.  Davis's  life  was  closed  before  his  death,  but  it 
seemed  as  if  we  were  but  at  the  beginning  of  Mr.  Grady' s 
career,  with  a  future  that  held  out  brilliant  promise.  He 
had  all  the  characteristics  of  warm-blooded  Southern  ora- 
tory, and  his  magnetic  periods,  that  touched  heart  and 
brain  alike,  were  devoted  to  the  single  purpose  of  rehabili- 
tating the  South  by  an  appeal  to  the  generosity  and  justice 
of  the  North.  No  speech  of  recent  years  had  a  greater 
effect  than  his  splendid  oration  at  the  New  England 
Society  dinner  in  New  York  last  year  on  the  "X«-\\ 
South."  It  was  happily  and  appropriately  suj >\ >lemented 
by  his  recent  address  to  the  merchants  of  Boston.  He  Mas 
a  martyr  to  the  cause  he  advocated  and  personated,  for  it 
was  in  the  chill  atmosphere  of  New  England  he  contracted 
the  disease  of  which  he  died.  Rarely  has  it  been  given  to 
any  man  to  gain  such  reputation  and  appreciation  as  fell 
to  Mr.  Grady  as  the  outcome  of  his  two  speeches  in  N»-w 
York  and  Boston.  lie  was  only  thirty-eight  years  old  ;  at 


494  IIKNKY    \v. 

the  very  beginning  of  what  promised  to  be  a  great  career, 
of  vast  benefit  to  his  section  and  country.  II<>  was  essen- 
tially of  the  New  Soutli ;  slavery  and  old  politics  were  to 
him  a  reminiscence  and  tradition.  At  home  he  was  frank 
and  courageous  in  reminding  the  Soutli  of  its  duties  and 
lapses.  At  the  North  he  was  the  intrepid  and  eloquent 
defender  and  champion  of  the  South.  Both  fields  called 
for  courage  and  good  faith. 


THE  PEACE-MAKERS. 


From  the  "New  York  Churchman." 

THE  premature  death  of  Mr.  Grady  has  taken  from  the 
career  of  journalism  one  of  its  most  brilliant  followers.  In 
him  has  passed  away  also  an  orator  of  exceptional  powers, 
ready,  versatile,  and  eloquent,  a  man  of  many  gifts,  a 
student  with  the  largest  resources  of  literary  culture,  and 
at  the  same  time  enabled  by  his  practical  experience  and 
training  to  use  these  resources  to  the  best  advantage. 

But  the  point  we  wish  especially  to  note  is  that  Mr. 
Grady,  while  deeply  attached  to  the  South,  and  inheriting 
memories  of  the  great  civil  contest  which  made  him  early 
an  orphan,  was  one  of  those  who  both  recognized  the  finality 
of  the  issue  and  had  the  courage  to  say  so. 

He  will  be  remembered  at  the  North  as  one  who  spoke 
eloquent  words  of  conciliation  and  friendship,  who  did  his 
share  in  healing  the  wounds  of  war,  and  in  smoothing  the 
way  toward  complete  national  accord.  "Blessed  are  the 
peace-makers"  is  the  inscription  one  would  place  above 
his  too-early  opened  grave. 

\Ve  have  not  the  space  at  our  command  to  do  extended 
justice  to  Mr.  Grady' s  great  powers,  or  to  picture  at  length 
his  bright  history.  That  lias  been  done  in  other  places  and 
by  other  hands.  But  we  cannot  pass  by  the  work  he  did 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECH  KS.  495 

for  reconciliation  without  some  expression  of  acknowledg- 
ment. Such  words  as  his,  offered  in  behalf  of  peace,  will 
survive  not  merely  in  their  immediate  effect,  but  in  the 
example  they  set. 


ONE  OF  THE  BRIGHTEST. 


From  the  "  Seattle  Press." 

ONE  of  the  brightest  men  in  America  passed  away  on 
Monday.  Henry  W.  Grady,  the  editor  of  the  Atlanta 
Constitution,  Georgia's  leading  paper,  and  which  has  come 
to  be  regarded  by  many  as  the  ablest  paper  in  the  South, 
had  within  a  very  brief  period  impressed  his  personality 
upon  the  current  history  of  the  nation.  Five  years  ago  he 
was  little  more  than  locally  known.  Being  a  guest  at  a 
dinner  of  the  New  England  Society  at  Boston,  he  made  a 
speech  which  was  the  happiest  inspiration  and  effort  of  his 
life.  It  was  the  right  word  spoken  at  the  right  time.  It 
lifted  him  at  once  to  the  dignity  of  a  national  figure.  It 
was  the  greeting  of  the  New  South  to  the  new  order  of  things, 
It  touched  the  great  heart  of  the  North  by  its  warm  tribute 
to  the  patriotism  and  faithfulness  of  the  martyred  Presi- 
dent, Abraham  Lincoln,  being  the  first  Southern  utterance 
which  did  full  justice  to  the  memory  of  that  great  man.  It 
was  not  a  sycophantic  nor  an  apologetic  speech,  but  the 
voice  of  one  who  accepts  accomplished  results  in  their  full- 
ness, recognizes  all  the  merits  of  his  opponent,  and  bravely 
faces  the  future  without  heart-burnings  or  vain  regrets. 
Mi-.  Grady' s  speech  was  published  in  almost  every  paper  in 
the  land,  in  whole  or  in  part,  and,  to  borrow  an  old  phrase, 
"  he  woke  up  one  morning  and  found  himself  famous." 
Since  then  all  that  he  has  written,  said  or  done  has  been  in 
the  same  line  of  patriotic  duty.  He  has  been  no  apologist 
for  anything  done  by  the  South  during  the  war.  He  never 
cringed.  He  was  willing  that  he  and  his  should  bear  all 
the  responsibility  of  their  course.  But  he  loved  the  whole 


41MJ  HENRY   W.    GRADY, 

reunited  country,  and  all  that  he  spoke  or  wrote  was 
intended  to  advance  good  feeling  between  the  sections  ;m<l 
the  common  benefit  of  all. 

Mr.  Grady  was  a  partisan,  but  in  the  higher  sense.  He 
never  descended  to  the  lower  levels  of  controversy.  His 
weapon  was  argument,  not  abuse.  And  he  was  capable  of 
rising  above  his  party's  platform.  He  could  not  be  shackled 
by  committees  or  conventions.  He  nervily  and  consistently 
proclaimed  his  adhesion  to  the  doctrine  of  protection  to 
American  industry,  although  it  placed  him  out  of  line  with 
his  party  associates. 


THE    SOUTH'S   NOBLE    SON. 


From  the  "Rockland,  Me.,  Opinion." 

THE  whole  country  is  deeply  grieved  and  shocked  by 
the  announcement  of  the  death  of  Mr.  Henry  W.  Grady  of 
Atlanta,  Georgia,  which  occurred  last  Monday  morning. 
The  land  was  yet  ringing  with  the  matchless  eloquence  of 
his  magnificent  speech  at  the  merchants'  dinner  in  Boston, 
when  the  news  of  his  illness  came,  closely  followed  by  that 
of  his  death.  The  press  of  the  country  was  yet  teeming 
with  the  applause  of  its  best  representatives,  when  the 
voice  that  evoked  it  is  stilled  in  death,  and  one  of  the  most 
brilliant  careers  of  this  generation  is  suddenly  and  prema- 
turely closed.  Mr.  Grady  caught  a  severe  cold  during  his 
visit  to  Boston,  and  grew  ill  rapidly  during  his  return 
journey.  On  his  arrival  home,  he  was  found  to  be  seriously 
ill  of  pneumonia,  and  the  dread  disease  took  a  rapid  course 
to  a  fatal  termination.  Mr.  Grady  was  one  of  the  most 
popular  men  in  the  South.  He  was  an  eloquent  orator  and 
brilliant  writer.  He  was  born  in  1851  in  Georgia,  gradu- 
ated at  the  State  University  and  also  took  a  course  at  the 
I'niversity  of  Virginia.  On  coming  out  of  college,  Mr. 
Grady  embarked  in  journalism  and  devoted  a  comfortable 


HIS    LIFE,    WKITIXGS,     AND    SPEECHES.  497 

fortune  to  gaining  the  experience  of  a  >iir<-<>ssful  news- 
paper man.  Under  his  management  the  Constitution  of 
Atlanta,  Ga.,  has  gained  a  very  large  circulation.  Mi-. 
Grad}T  has  persistently  refused  to  accept  office.  He  won 
National  fame  as  an  orator  by  his  speech  at  the  Pilgrims' 
dinner  in  Brooklyn,  two  years  ago,  and  has  been  in  great 
demand  at  banquets  and  similar  occasions  ever  since.  His 
eloquence  was  of  the  warm,  moving  sort  that  appeals  to 
the  emotions,  his  logic  was  sound  and  careful  and  all  his 
utterances  were  marked  by  sincerity  and  candor.  He  has 
also  no  doubt  done  more  than  any  one  man  to  remove  the 
prejudices  and  misunderstandings  that  have  embittered 
the  people  of  the  North  and  South  against  each  other 
politically,  and  to  raise  the  great  race  problems  of  the  day 
from  the  ruck  of  sectionalism  and  partisanship  upon  the 
high  plane  of  national  statesmanship.  The  South  has  lost 
a  brave,  noble  and  brilliant  son,  who  served  her  as  effect- 
ively as  devotedly  ;  but  his  work  was  needed  as  much  and 
quite  as  useful  at  the  North,  and  his  death  is  indeed  a 
national  misfortune. 


BRILLIANT  AND  GIFTED. 


Dr.  H.  M.  Field  in  "New  York  Evangelist." 

IT  is  with  a  grief  that  we  cannot  express,  that  we  write 
the  above  name,  and  add  that  he  who  bore  it  is  no  longer 
among  the  living.  The  most  brilliant  and  gifted  man  in 
all  the  South — the  one  who,  though  still  young,  had 
acquired  immense  popularity  and  influence,  which  made 
him  useful  alike  to  the  South  and  to  the  whole  country- 
has  gone  to  his  grave.  He  has  died  in  his  prime,  at  the 
early  age  of  thirty-eight,  in  the  maturity  of  his  pow<  rs, 
with  the  rich  promise  of  life  all  before  him. 

Our  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Grady  began  nine  years 
a  ;;•<>.  when  we  saw  him  for  the  first  time  in  the  office  of  a 
brother  of  ours,  who  was  able  to  give  him  the  help  which 


498  HK.XkV    W.    GRADY, 

he  needed  to  purchase  a  quarter  of  the  Atlanta  Constitu- 
tion. This  at  once  made  his  position,  as  it  gave  him  a 
point  of  vantage  from  which  to  exercise  his  wonderful 
uifts.  Prom  that  moment  his  career  was  open  before  him  ; 
his  genius  would  do  the  rest.  This  kindness  he  never  for- 
got, and  it  led  to  his  personal  relations  with  us,  which 
afterwards  became  those  of  intimacy  and  friendship. 

When  we  first  saw  him,  his  face  was  almost  boyish, 
round  and  ruddy  with  health,  his  eyes  sparkling  with 
intelligence,  as  well  as  with  the  wit  and  humor  which  he 
jx'i-haps  inherited  from  some  ancestor  of  Irish  blood.  His 
face,  like  his  character,  matured  with  years  ;  yet  it  always 
had  a  youthful  appearance,  which  was  the  outward  token 
of  the  immense  vitality  within  him.  We  have  seldom 
known  a  man  who  was  so  intensely  alive — alive  to  the  very 
tips  of  his  fingers.  As  a  writer,  he  was  one  of  the  very 
best  for  the  variety  of  work  required  in  the  office  of  a 
great  journal.  His  style  was  animated  and  picturesque, 
and  he  had  an  infinite  versatility  ;  turning  his  pen  now  to 
this  subject  and  now  to  that ;  throwing  off  here  a  sharp 
paragraph,  and  there  a  vigorous  editorial ;  but  never  in 
either  writing  a  dull  line.  The  same  freshness  and  alert- 
ness of  mind  he  showed  in  conversation,  where  he  was  as 
brilliant  as  with  his  pen.  He  would  tell  a  story  with  all 
the  animation  and  mimicry  of  an  actor,  alternating  with 
touches  of  humor  and  pathos  that  were  quite  inimitable. 
It  was  the  chief  pleasure  of  our  visit  to  Atlanta  to  renew 
this  delightful  acquaintance — a  pleasure  which  we  had 
twice  last  winter  in  going  to,  and  returning  from,  Florida. 
Never  shall  we  forget  the  last  time  that  we  sat  before  his 
fire,  with  his  charming  family  and  several  clergymen  of 
Atlanta,  and  listened  to  the  endless  variety  of  his  marvel- 
ous talk. 

Nor  was  his  power  confined  to  this  limited  circle.  He 
was  not  only  a  brilliant  conversationalist  and  writer,  but  a 
g» 'ii nine  orator.  No  man  could  take  an  audience  from  the 
lir-t  sentence,  and  hold  it  to  the  last,  more  perfectly  than 
In-.  Mi>  speech  before  the  New  England  Society  in  this 


HIS    I. IKK,     WIMTIXGS,    AND    SPEECHES.  4Q9 

city  three  years  ago  gave  him  at  once  a  national  reputa- 
tion. It  came  to  us  when  abroad,  and  even  so  far  away, 
on  the  shores  of  the  Mediterranean,  at  Palermo,  in  Sicily, 
we  were  thrilled  by  its  fervid  eloquence.  A  second 
speech,  not  less  powerful,  was  delivered  but  two  weeks 
since  in  Boston  ;  and  it  was  in  coming  on  to  this,  and  in  a 
visit  to  Plymouth  Rock,  where  he  wras  called  upon  to 
make  a  speech  in  the  open  air,  that  he  took  the  cold  which 
developed  into  pneumonia,  and  caused  his  death. 

But  Mr.  Grady's  chief  claim  to* grateful  remembrance  by 
the  whole  country  is  that  he  was  a  pacificator  between  the 
North  and  the  South.  Born  in  the  South,  he  loved  it  in- 
tensely. His  own  family  had  suffered  in  the  war  an  irre- 
parable loss.  He  once  said  to  us  as  we  came  from  his  house, 
where  we  had  been  to  call  upon  his  mother,  whose  gentle 
face  was  saddened  by  a  great  sorrow  that  had  cast  a  shadow 
over  her  life,  "  You  know  my  father  was  killed  at  Peters- 
burg." But  in  spite  of  these  sad  memories,  he  cherished 
no  hatred,  nor  bitterness,  but  felt  that  the  prosperity  of 
millions  depended  on  a  complete  reconciliation  of  the  two 
sections,  so  that  North  and  South  should  once  more  be 
one  country.  This  aim  he  kept  constantly  in  view,  both  in 
his  speeches  and  in  his  writings,  wherein  there  were  some 
things  in  which  we  did  not  agree,  as  our  readers  may  see  in 
the  letter  published  this  very  week  on  our  first  page.  But 
we  always  recognized  his  sincerity  and  manliness,  and  his 
ardent  love  for  the  land  of  his  birth,  for  all  which  we  ad- 
mired him  and  loved  him — and  love  him  still — and  on  this 
Christmas  day  approach  with  the  great  crowd  of  mourners, 
and  cast  this  flower  upon  his  new-made  grave. 


THE  DEATH  OF  HENRY  W.  GRADY. 


John  Boyle  O'Reilly,  in  the  "  Boston  Pilot." 

"TiiE  South  is  in  tears  !"  said  the  sorrowful  dispatch 
from  Atlanta  on  Monday  last ;  and  the  grief  and  the  sym- 


000  IIKNKY     \V. 

pathy  of  the  North  went  freely  southward  in  response. 
\«-xt  to  his  own  city,  indeed,  this  death  strikes  Boston  most 
deeply,  forln-iv  with  us,  only  a  few  days  ago,  he  poured  forth 
the  noblest  stream  of  eloquence  that  ever  flowed  from  his 
gifted  tongue.  It  matters  not  now  that  many  New  Eng- 
landers,  the  Pilot  included,  dissented  from  his  Southern 
view  of  the  colored  question.  We  disagreed  with  the  word, 
but  we  honored  the  silver  tongue  and  the  heart  of  gold  be- 
neath it.  "  He  was  the  njost  eloquent  man,"  said  the  Hon. 
P.  A.  Collins,  one  who  knows  what  eloquence  consists  of, 
"that  I  ever  heard  speak  in  Boston." 

Since  the  olden  times  there  has  been  no  more  striking 
illustration  of  the  power  of  oratory  to  appeal  to  the  nation 
and  to  make  a  man  famous  among  his  people  than  is  found 
in  the  career  of  Mr.  Grady.  Within  ten  years  he  leaped 
from  the  position  of  a  modest  Georgian  editor  to  that  of 
the  best  known  and  the  greatest  orator  on  this  continent. 
So  potent  is  the  true  gift  of  eloquence  when  the  substruct- 
ure is  recognized  as  solid  in  character  and  profoundly 
earnest  in  purpose. 

To  Irish- Americans,  as  to  the  State  that  has  lost  him, 
the  death  of  Mr.  Grady  is  a  special  affliction.  He  repre- 
sented in  a  fine  type  the  patriotism  and  the  manly  quality 
of  a  citizen  that  every  Irish- American  ought  to  keep  in 
spiritual  sight.  He  was  a  man  to  be  trusted  and  loved. 
He  was  a  proud  Georgian  and  a  patriotic  American,  though 
his  father  had  died  for  "the  Lost  Cause."  He  was,  while 
in  Boston,  introduced  to  the  great  audience  by  Colonel 
Charles  H.  Taylor  as  "  the  matchless  orator  of  Georgia." 
Playfully,  and  yet  half  seriously,  he  accounted  for  him- 
self thus  :  "  My  father  was  an  Irishman — and  my  mother 
\va>  a  woman.  I  come  naturally  by  my  eloquence." 

North  or  South,  it  matters  not  the  section — all  men 
must  honor  such  a  character.  His  brief  life  reached  a  high 
achievement.  He  was  a  type  of  American  to  be  hailed  with 
delight— courageous,  ready  of  hand  and  voice,  proudly  sen- 
timental yet  widely  reserved,  devoted  to  his  State  and  loyal 
to  the  Republic,  public-spirited  as  a  statesman,  and  indus- 


HIS   LIFE,    WHITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  501 

trious  and  frugal  as  a  townsman,  and  the  head  of  a  happy 
family.  His  devotion  to  his  parents  and  to  his  wife  and 
children  was  the  last  lesson  of  his  life.  In  his  Boston 
speech  he  drew  tears  from  thousands  by  the  unnamed  pic- 
ture of  his  father's  death  for  the  bleeding  South  ;  from 
Boston  he  went  South,  insisting  on  being  taken  to  his  home 
when  they  told  him  in  New  York  that  he  was  dangerously 
ill.  He  died  surrounded  by  his  own — mother,  wife,  and 
children.  Almost  his  last  words  to  his  mother  were  : 
"  Father  died  fighting  for  the  South,  and  I  am  happy  to 
die  talking  for  her." 


TRIBUTES 


OF  THE 


SOUTHERN    PRESS 


A  NOBLE  DEATH. 


From  the  "Jacksonville,  Fla.,  Times-Union.'" 

A  LAS,  that  the  hero  of  the  New  South  should  follow, 
/V  and  in  so  short  a  time,  the  typical  hero  and  repre- 
sentative of  the  Old !  With  hearts  still  bowed  beneath 
the  shadow  of  the  flags  at  half-mast  all  over  the  South 
for  Jefferson  Davis,  comes  the  sad  and  sudden  message 
announcing  the  death  of  Henry  W.  Grady. 

Poor  Grady  !  Dead  in  the  very  summer  time  and  blos- 
som and  golden  fruitage  of  a  brilliant  life  !  Fallen,  while 
yet  so  young  and  in  the  arms  of  his  first  overwhelming  vic- 
tory. Fallen  on  the  topmost  crest  of  a  grand  achieve- 
ment— on  the  shining  heights  he  had  just  so  bravely  won  ! 
Hapless  fate,  that  he  could  not  survive  to  realize  the  full 
fruition  of  his  sublime  endeavor  !  He  went  North  only  a 
few  days  ago  on  a  mission  of  love  and  reconciliation,  his 
great  heart  bearing  the  sorrows  of  the  South,  his  big  brain 
pulsing  with  patriotic  purpose.  Of  a  nervous,  sensitive 
nature,  his  physical  system,  in  sympathy  with  his  intel- 
lectual triumph,  both  strained  to  the  utmost  tension,  ren- 
dered him  susceptible  to  the  sudden  change  of  climate,  and 
he  contracted  a  severe  cold  which  soon  developed  into 
pneumonia,  attended  by  a  burning  fever.  Returning  home 
he  was  met  at  the  depot  by  what  had  been  arranged  for  a 
grand  ovation  and  a  banquet  at  the  Chamber  of  Commerce, 
by  the  people  of  Atlanta,  but  instead  of  being  carried  on  the 
strong  shoulders  of  the  thousands  who  loved  and  honored 
him,  he  was  received  into  the  gentle  arms  of  his  family  and 
physicians  and  borne  tenderly  home,  to  linger  yet  for  a 
little  while  with  the  fond  circle  whose  love,  deep,  strong, 
and  tender  as  it  was,  appealed  in  vain  against  the  hard 
decree  of  the  great  conqueror. 

5U5 


500  IIK.NUY     \V.    GKADY, 

As  Mr.  Grady  so  eloquently  expressed  in  his  last  hours  : 
"  Tell  mother  I  died  for  the  South,  the  land  I  love  so  well ! " 
And  this  was  as  true  as  it  could  be  of  any  patriot  who  falls 
on  the  field  of  battle. 

'Twas  his  own  genius  gave  the  final  blow, 

And  helped  to  plant  the  wound  that  laid  him  low. 

******* 

Yes,  she  too  much  indulged  the  fond  pursuit; 
She  sowed  the  seed,  but  death  has  reaped  the  fruit ! 

But  has  death,  indeed,  reaped  the  fruit  ?  May  not  the 
very  sacrifice,  in  itself,  consecrate  his  last  eloquent  and 
inspired  words  till  they  sink  deeper  into  the  hearts  of  the 
North  and  South  alike,  thus  linked  with  a  more  sacred 
memory  and  a  sublimer  sorrow  ?  If  so,  we  shall  find  a 
larger  recompense  even  in  the  bitter  bereavement. 

As  far  as  his  personal  history  is  concerned,  Henry 
Grady  could  not  have  died  a  nobler  death.  The  Greek 
philosopher  said  :  "Esteem  no  man  happy  while  he  lives." 
He  who  falls  victorious,  the  citadel  won,  in  a  blaze  of  glory, 
is  safe  ;  safe  from  all  the  vicissitudes  of  fortune  ;  safe  from 
any  act  that  might  otherwise  tarnish  an  illustrious  name. 
It  descends  a  rich  heritage  to  after  time.  During  the  pres- 
idential campaign  of  1844  the  wonderful  orator,  Sargent  S. 
Prentiss,  delivered  at  Nashville,  to  an  immense  audience, 
the  greatest  campaign  speech,  perhaps,  that  was  ever  heard 
in  the  United  States.  After  speaking  for  several  hours, 
and  just  as  he  was  closing  an  eloquent  burst  of  oratory, 
he  fell  fainting  in  the  arms  of  several  of  the  bystanders. 
At  once  there  was  a  rush  to  resuscitate  him,  but  Governor 
Jones,  thoroughly  inspired  by  the  speech  and  occasion, 
sprang  from  his  seat,  in  a  stentorian  voice  shouting  :  "Die  ! 
Prentiss  ;  die!  You'll  never  have  a  better  time !  " 

The  Times-  Union  has  heretofore  commented  on  Mr. 
Grady' s  magnificent  oration  at  Boston.  It  not  only  cap- 
tured New  England  and  the  South,  but  the  entire  country. 
Nothing  like  it  since  the  war  has  been  uttered.  In  force, 
power,  eloquence,  it  has  been  but  rarely  excelled  in  any 
time.  Major  Audley  Maxwell,  a  leading  Boston  lawyer, 


HIS   LIFK,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  507 

describes  it  in  a  letter  to  a  friend  in  this  city  as  "  a  cannon- 
ball  in  full  flight,  fringed  with  flowers."  The  occasion,  the 
audience,  the  surroundings,  were  all  inspiring.  He  was 
pleading  for  the  South — for  the  people  he  loved — and  to 
say  that  he  reached  the  topmost  height  of  the  great  argu- 
ment, is  comment  and  compliment  enough.  The  closing 
paragraphs  are  republished  this  morning,  and  no  man  ever 
uttered  a  sublimer  peroration.  He  spoke  as  one  might  have 
spoken  standing  consciously  within  the  circling  wings  of 
death,  when  the  mind  is  expanded  by  the  rapid  crowding 
of  great  events  and  the  lips  are  touched  with  prophetic  fire. 

The  death  of  Henry  Grady  was  a  public  calamity.  He 
had  the  ear  of  the  North  as  no  other  Southern  man  had,  or 
has.  He  was  old  enough  to  have  served  in  the  Confederate 
'  armies,  yet  young  enough,  at  the  surrender,  while  cherish- 
ing the  traditions  of  the  past,  to  still  lay  firm  hold  on  the 
future  in  earnest  sympathy  for  a  restored  and  reconciled 
Union.  In  this  work  he  was  the  South' s  most  conspicuous 
leader. 

But  his  life-work  is  finished.  Let  the  people  of  the  South 
re-form  their  broken  ranks  and  move  forward  to  the  com- 
pletion of  the  work  which  his  genius  made  more  easy  of 
accomplishment  and  which  his  death  has  sanctified.  In 
the  words  he  himself  would  have  spoken,  the  words  em- 
ployed by  another  brilliant  leader  on  undertaking  a  great 
campaign,  each  of  the  soldters  enlisted  for  the  South's  con- 
tinued progress  will  cry :  ' '  Spurn  me  if  I  flee  ;  support 
me  if  I  fall,  but  let  us  move  on !  In  God's  name,  let  us 
move  on ! " 


THERE   WAS  NONE  GREATER. 


From,  the  "Birmingham,  Mo.,  Chronicle." 

THE  CHRONICLE  confesses  to  being  a  hero-worshiper. 
There  is  no  trait  in  the  human  heart  more  noble  than  that 
which  applauds  and  commemorates  the  feats  of  brains  or 


50$  HENRY    W.    GRADY, 

arms  done  by  our  fellow-man.  We  confess  the  almost  holy 
veneration  we  feel  for  the  heroes  of  song  arid  story  from 
the  beginning  of  tradition.  Nimrod  to  Joseph  and  Moses 
to  the  Maccabees,  from  Alexander  to  Caesar,  taking  in  the 
heroes  of  all  nations  from  Cheops  to  Napoleon  and  Wel- 
lington, Putnam,  Sam  Houston  and  Lee  and  Grant  and 
Lincoln,  we  do  honor  to  them  all. 

So  too  do  we  worship  the  sages  and  orators.  Whatever 
man  the  people  worship  is  worthy  of  a  place  in  our  Pan- 
theon. The  people  are  the  best  judges  of  a  man,  and 
when  the  common  people  pay  tribute  to  the  worth  of  any 
man  well  known  to  them,  we  are  ready  to  lift  our  hats  and 
acknowledge  his  title  to  greatness.  Any  man  who  has  the 
enthusiastic  admiration  of  his  own  people  is  worthy  of  any 
honor. 

The  South  has  many  brilliant  writers,  but  none  of  them 
have  ever  made  the  columns  of  a  newspaper  glisten  and 
glow  and  hold  in  magnetic  enchantment  the  mind  of  the 
reader  as  Henry  Grady  did.  In  his  life-work  he  was  great, 
and  there  is  none  greater.  His  writings  are  worthy  of  a 
place  beside  those  of  Greeley  and  Watterson,  and  Grady 
was  still  a  young  man. 

In  the  days  gone  by  the  South  has  sent  many  orators 
North  to  present  Southern  thought  to  Northern  hearers. 
Henry  Clay,  Jefferson  Davis,  Robert  Toombs  and  William 
L.  Yancey  all  went  before  Grady  was  invited  to  speak  up 
there.  There  were  never  four  greater  orators  in  the  world's 
history,  and  the  story  of  their  speeches  has  come  down  to 
us  like  music.  Yet  in  this  latter  day  when  oratory  does 
not  appeal  to  people  as  it  used  to,  when  the  busy  world 
does  not  stop  to  read  speeches,  Grady  went  North  to 
speak.  He  was  known  to  the  North  and  had  done  noth- 
ing to  challenge  the  attention  of  the  nation,  yet  his  first 
speech  at  the  North  did  catch  public  attention  most  pleas- 
antly. His  second  speech,  delivered  but  a  few  days  ago, 
was  the  greatest  effort  of  his  life,  and  all  the  nations 
li^ti-ned  to  it  and  all  the  newspapers  commented  upon  his 
utterances.  His  speech  was  the  equal  of  any  oration 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND    SPEECHES.  609 

ever  delivered  in  America,  and  had  as  much  effect  on  pub- 
lic thought.  No  effort  of  Toombs  or  Yancey,  even  in  the 
days  of  public  excitement,  surpassed  this  last  speech  of 
Grady. 

He  deserves  a  place  among  the  great  men  of  America, 
and  the  South  must  hold  his  memory  in  reverence.  A 
broken  shaft  must  be  his  monument,  for  as  sure  as  life  had 
been  spared  him  new  honors  were  in  store  for  this  young 
man.  He  had  made  his  place  in  the  world,  and  he  was 
equal  to  any  call  made  upon  him,  and  the  people  were 
learning  to  look  to  him  as  a  leader.  Few  such  men  are 
born,  and  too  much  honor  cannot  be  done  them. 


A  GREAT  LEADER  HAS  FALLEN. 


From  the  "  Raleigh,  N.  C.,  State- Chronicle." 

Good  mother,  weep,  Cornelia  of  the  South, 

For  thou  indeed  has  lost  a  jewel  son  ; 
The  Gracchi  great  were  not  so  much  beloved, 

Nor  with  more  worthy  deeds  their  honors  won. 
Thy  stalwart  son  deserves  a  Roman's  fame, 

For  Cato  was  not  more  supremely  just  ; 
Augustus  was  not  greater  in  the  State, 

Nor  Brutus  truer  to  the  public  trust. 

IN  the  death  of  Mr.  Henry  W.  Grady  the  South  loses  its 
brightest  and  most  useful  man.  He  was  the  only  Southern 
man  who  really  had  the  'ear  of  the  people  of  the  whole 
country,  and  he  had  just  reached  the  position  where  he 
could  be  useful  in  the  largest  sphere.  It  is  inexplicable 
why  so  young  and  robust  a  man — (he  was  not  over  thirty- 
nine  years  of  age) — a  man  so  brilliant  and  so  able,  should 
be  taken  just  as  he  was  entering  upon  the  plane  of  wider 
influence  and  greater  usefulness.  To  the  South  it  is  the 
greatest  loss  that  it  has  sustained  by  death  in  a  quarter  of 
a  century.  To  the  whole  people  of  the  country,  which  he 
loved  with  his  great-hearted  devotion,  it  is  nothing  short 
of  a  National  calamity. 


."10  II  KXIIY    W.    CIIADY, 

Mr.  Grady  had  the  ear  and  heart  of  the  South  because 
he  loved  its  history  and  its  very  soil,  and  because  he  was 
the  leading  exponent  of  thf  idea  that  is  working  to  build 
up  a  prosperous  manufacturing  New  South.  He  had  the 
ear  of  the  North  because,  while  he  had  no  apologies  to 
make  for  Southern  actions  and  was  proud  of  Southern 
achievements,  he  had  turned  his  eyes  to  the  morning  and 
lived  in  the  busy  world  of  to-day.  He  recognized  changed 
conditions  and  did  not  bemoan  fate.  He  stood  up  in  his 
manliness  and  his  faith  and  went  to  work  to  bring  pros- 
perity where  poverty  cast  its  blight.  He  inspired  others 
in  the  South  with  faith  in  the  future  of  his  section,  and 
invited  Northern  men  of  money,  brains,  and  brawn  to  come 
South  and  make  a  fortune ;  and  when  they  accepted  his 
invitation,  as  not  a  few  did,  he  gave  them  a  brotherly  wel- 
come and  made  them  feel  that  they  were  at  home.  In  this 
he  showed  practical  patriotism.  Under  no  temptation- 
even  when  speaking  in  Boston — did  he  ever  so  far  forget 
his  manhood  as  to 

Crook  the  pregnant  hinges  of  the  knee, 
Where  thrift  may  follow  fawning. 

The  people  of  the  North  also  heard  him  because  of  his 
candor.  He  never  deceived  them  about  the  race  problem 
or  the  difficulties  in  the  way  of  the  South' s  future.  He 
admitted  their  gravity,  and  sought  a  peaceful  solution  in  a 
just,  fair,  and  honest  way.  His  speech  in  Boston  was  a 
lamentation  and  an  earnest  appeal.  He  cried  aloud  for 
sympathetic  help,  and  his  cry,  sealed  with  his  life,  we  must 
believe,  will  not  be  heard  in  vain.  God  grant  that  his 
prayer  for  Peace  and  Union  may  be  answered  ! 

Mr.  Grady's  most  attractive  quality  was  his  warm  great 
heartedness.  He  was  generous  to  a  fault.  No  tale  of  suf- 
IVring  or  poverty  was  unheeded  by  him.  He  had  a  buoy- 
ant spirit  and  a  light  heart  and  deep  affections.  He  was 
reverent  in  speech  and  with  pen.  He  believed  in  God,  had 
learned  the  truth  of  the  gospel  at  his  mother's  knee,  "  The 
truest  altar  I  have  yet  found,"  he  said  in  his  last  speech. 


HIS   LIFE,    WHITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  511 

II'- was  a  member  of  the  Methodist  church.  He  had  pro- 
found convictions,  and  his  eloquent  speeches  in  favor  of 
Prohibition  in  Atlanta  will  not  be  forgotten.  No  man 
ever  spoke  more  earnest  words  for  what  he  conceived  to  be 
the  safety  of  the  homes  of  Atlanta  than  he.  They  will  long 
be  treasured  up  with  fondness  by  those  who  mourn  that 
he  was  cut  down  in  the  zenith  of  what  promised  the  most 
brilliant  career  that  lay  out  before  any  man  in  America. 

Henry  W.  Grady  was  a  grandson  of  North  Carolina. 
His  father  was  a  native  of  Macon  county,  but  early  in  life 
emigrated  to  Rome,  Georgia,  to  make  his  fortune,  and  he 
made  it.  He  was  one  of  those  men  who  succeed  in  every 
undertaking.  Everything  he  touched  seemed  to  turn  to 
gold.  He  prospered  and  made  a  large  estate.  When  the 
war  came  on  he  had  a  presentiment  that  he  would  be  killed. 
But  notwithstanding  that  idea  took  possession  of  him,  he 
raised  and  equipped  at  his  own  expense  a  regiment  of 
cavalry,  and  hastened  to  the  front  as  its  captain.  His 
company  was  attached  as  company  G  to  the  2oth  N.  C. 
Regiment,  commanded  by  Col.  Thos.  L.  Clingman.  Even- 
tually Capt.  Grady  was  promoted  to  be  major  of  the  regi- 
ment. In  the  first  battle  he  fell  mortally  wounded,  showing 
how  true  was  his  presentiment  of  death.  He  was  sur- 
rounded by  his  men,  some  of  them  brave,  sturdy  North 
Carolinians.  He  left  a  legacy  of  honor  to  his  son,  who 
always  called  North  Carolina  his  grandmother  and  had  a 
deep  affection  for  its  sons. 

Mr.  Grady  graduated  with  high  honors  at  the  Univer- 
sity of  Georgia  in  Athens.  Then  he  spent  two  years  at  the 
University  of  Virginia,  where  he  devoted  himself  rather  to 
the  study  of  literature  and  to  the  work  of  the  societies 
than  to  the  regular  college  course.  He  won  high  honors 
there  as  an  orator  and  as  a  debater.  He  was  as  well 
equipped  and  as  ready  and  as  effective  as  a  debater  as  he 
became  later  on  as  an  orator  and  editor.  He  was  regarded 
there  as  a  universal  genius  and  the  most  charming  of  men. 
Leaving  college  he  established  a  paper  at  Rome.  Later  in 
connection  with  Mr.  Alston  (North  Carolina  stock)  he 


HI:M:V    \v. 

•  •si:il»lished  the  Atlanta  I  It-raid.  It  was  ;L  brilliant  paper 
but  waa  not  a  financial  success.  Our  read. -rs  v.ill  ivmcin- 
her  that  Mr.  Alston  was  shot  in  the  Capitol  by  State 
Treasurer  Cox.  Upon  the  failure  of  the  Herald,  Mr.  Grady 
went  to  Ne\v  York.  He  was  without  money  and  went  there 
looking  for  something  to  do.  He  went  into  the  office  of 
the  New  York  Herald  and  asked  for  a  position. 

"  What  can  you  do?"  asked  the  managing  editor, 
when  Mr.  Grady  asked  for  a  position.  "Anything,"  was 
the  reply  of  the  young  Georgian,  conscious  of  his  powers 
and  conscious  of  ability  to  do  any  kind  of  Avork  that  was  to 
be  done  in  a  great  newspaper  office.  The  editor  asked  him 
where  he  was  from,  and  learning  that  he  wras  from  Georgia, 
said:  "  Do  you  know  anything  about  Georgia  politics?" 
Now  if  there  was  any  subject  which  he  knew  all  about  it 
was  Georgia  politics,  and  he  said  so.  "Then  sit  down," 
said  the  managing  editor,  "and  write  me  an  article  on 
Georgia  politics."  He  sat  down  and  dashed  off  an  article 
of  the  brightest  matter  showing  thorough  insight  into  the 
situation  in  Georgia  and  thorough  knowledge  of  the  leaders 
in  that  State.  He  was  always  a  facile  writer,  and  all  his 
articles  were  printed  without  erasing  or  re- writing.  The 
article  was  put  into  the  pigeon-hole,  and  Mr.  Grady  took 
his  departure.  He  left  the  office,  so  he  said,  very  despond- 
ent, thinking  the  article  might  be  published  after  several 
Wf.-ks,  but  fearing  that  it  would  never  see  the  light.  What 
was  his  surprise  and  joy  to  see  it  in  the  Herald  the  next 
morning.  He  went  down  to  the  office  and  was  engaged  as 
correspondent  for  Georgia  and  the  South.  In  this  capacity 
lie  wrote  letters  upon  Southern  topics  of  such  brilliancy  as 
have  never  been  surpassed,  if  equaled,  in  the  history  of 
American  journalism.  They  gained  for  him  a  wide  reputa- 
tion,  and  made  him  a  great  favorite  in  Georgia.  The  pub- 
lic men  of  that  State  recognized  his  ability,  and  saw  how 
much  he  might  do  to  develop  the  resources  and  advance 
the  prosperity  and  fame  of  Georgia  if  at  the  head  of  a  great 
State  paper.  The  late  Alexander  H.  Stephens  interested 
himself  in  Mr.  Grady  and  assisted  to  get  him  on  the  staff 


HIS    LIFi:,     WRITINGS,    AM)     Sl'KKCH  !!>. 

of  the  Const  if  nf  ion.  From  the  day  he  went  to  Atlanta  on 
the  staff  of  the  Constitution  until  his  death  his  best  ener- 
gies and  his  great  abilities  were  directed  towifrd  making  it 
a  great  paper,  and  a  powerful  factor  in  developing  the 
resources  of  Georgia.  It  became  the  most  successful  of 
Southern  newspapers,  and  is  to-day  a  competitor  with  the 
great  papers  of  the  North.  To  have  achieved  this  unpre- 
cedented success  in  journalism  were  honor  enough  to  win 
in  a  life-time.  He  was  confessedly  the  Gamaliel  of  South- 
ern journalism,  and  the  best  of  it  all  was  that  he  was,  as 
was  said  of  Horace  Greeley  a,fter  his  death,  "a  journalist 
because  he  had  something  to  say  which  he  believed  man- 
kind would  be  the  better  for  knowing  ;  not  because  he 
wanted  something  for  himself  which  journalism  might 
secure  for  him." 

He  was  a  Saul,  and  stood  head  and  shoulders  above  all 
his  fellows  as  an  orator  as  w^ell  as  an  editor.  We  cannot 
dwell  upon  his  reputation  as  an  orator,  or  recount  the 
scenes  of  his  successes.  We  had  heard  him  only  in 
impromptu  efforts  and  in  short  introductory  speeches, 
where  he  easily  surpassed  any  man  whom  we  ever  heard. 
He  had  a  fine  physique,  a  big,  round,  open,  manly  face, 
was  thick-set,  was  pleasing  in  style,  and  had  a  winning 
and  captivating  voice.  He  could  rival  Senator  Vance  in 
telling  an  anecdote.  He  could  equal  Senator  Ransom  in  a 
polished,  graceful  oration.  He  could  put  Governor  Fowle 
to  his  best  in  his  classical  illustrations.  He  could  equal 
\Vaddell  in  his  eloquent  flights.  In  a  word  he  had  more 
talent  as  a  public  speaker  than  any  man  we  ever  knew ; 
and  added  to  that  he  had  heart,  soul,  fire — the  essentials 
of  true  oratory.  We  recall  four  speeches  which  gave  him 
greatest  reputation.  One  was  in  Texas  at  a  college  com- 
•  mencement,  we  think  ;  another  at  the  New  York  banquet 
Jon  "The  New  South";  the  third  at  the  University  of 
Virginia ;  and  the  last — (alas  !  his  last  words) — at  the 
Boston  banquet  just  two  weeks  ago.  These  speeches,  as 
well  as  others  he  has  made,  deserve  to  live.  The  last 
one— published  in  last  week's  Chronicle — is  emphasized  by 


HK.NKV    \v.  <;I:ADV, 

his  untimely  death.  In  it  he  had  so  ably  and  eloquently 
defended  the  South  and  so  convincingly  plead  for  a  united 
country  based  upon  mutual  confidence  and  sympathy  that, 
in  view  of  his  death,  his  words  seem  to  have  been  touched 
by  a  patriotism  and  a  devoutness  akin  to  inspiration.  His 
broad  catholicity  and  his  great  patriotism  bridged  all  sec- 
tional lines,  and  he  stood  before  the  country  the  most  elo- 
quent advocate  of  "a  Union  of  Hearts"  as  well  as  a 
••  I  u ion  of  Hands."  As  the  coming  greatest  leader  of  the 
South,  he  sounded  the  key-note  of  sublimest  patriotism. 
Less  profound  than  Daniel  Webster,  his  burning  words  for 
the  perpetuity  of  the  Union!  with  mutual  trust  and  no 
sectional  antagonism,  were  not  less  thrilling  nor  impres- 
sive. The  Southern  people  ought  to  read  and  re-read  this 
meat  speech,  which,  doubtless,  cost  him  his  life,  and  make 
it  the  lamp  to  their  feet.  If  we  heed  his  words  and  bury 
sectionalism,  it  will  be  written  of  him  that  "  though  dead, 
he  yet  speaketh." 

Star  of  the  South  ! 

To  tliee  all  eyes  and  hearts  were  turned, 
As  round  thy  path,  from  plain  to  sea, 

The  glory  of  thy  greatness  hurned. 

Millions  were  drawn  to  thee  and  bound 
By  mind's  high  mastery,  millions  hailed 

In  thee  a  guide-star — and  ne'er  found 
A  ray  in  thee,  that  waned  or  failed. 

No  night's  embrace  for  thee  !  nor  pall, 
But  such  as  mortal  hand  hath  wrought, 

Thou  livest  still  in  mind — in  all 
That  breathes,  or  speaks,  or  lives  in  thought. 


HENRY  W.  GRADY. 


From  the  "New  Orleans  Times-Democrat" 

i:v  \V.  (iKADY,  editor  of  the  Atlanta  Const  it  u/inti. 
died  yesterday,  after  a  short  illness,  from  typhoid  pneu- 
monia, at  tin-  early  age  of  thirty-six.  Perhaps  no  man  in 


HIS    LI  !••!•:,     WKITIMJS,     AND    SPEECH  £8.  515 

the  South  has  been  more  often  mentioned  in  the  last  few 
years  or  attracted  more  attention  than  he.  His  famous 
speech  before  the  New  England  Society  had  the  effect  of 
bringing  him  before  the  country  as  the  representative  of 
that  New  South  which  is  building  up  into  prosperity  and 
greatness. 

Mr.  Grady  was  a  native  of  Georgia.  His  father  was 
Colonel  of  a  Confederate  regiment  during  the  late  war,  and 
to  that  father  he  paid  the  highest  tribute  a  son  could  pay 
in  several  of  his  speeches.  He  had  a  hard  struggle  at  first, 
like  nearly  every  Southern  boy,  but  he  fought  his  way  up 
to  the  top  by  pluck,  energy  and  determination. 

Mr.  Grady' s  first  journalistic  venture  was,  we  believe, 
in  his  native  town.  He  ran  a  small  paper  there,  moved 
thence  to  Atlanta,  carrying  on  another  newspaper  venture 
in  the  Georgia  capital.  In  the  course  of  events  this  paper 
was  swallowed  up  by  the  Constitution,  then  pushing  itself 
to  the  front  of  the  Georgia  press,  and  Mr.  Grady  was  selected 
as  co-editor  of  the  latter. 

Under  him  that  paper  became  one  of  the  leading  expo- 
nents of  Southern  opinion,  a  representative  of  the  pro- 
gressive South,  not  lingering  over  dead  memories,  but  living 
in  the  light  of  the  present  and  laboring  to  build  up  this 
section. 

Mr.  Grady  and  his  paper  were  always  the  defenders  of 
the  South,  yet  not  afraid  to  expose  and  condemn  its  errors 
and  mistakes.  He  had  the  courage  to  speak  out  whenever 
this  \vas  necessary,  and  when,  some  few  months  ago,  regu- 
lators attempted  to  introduce  into  Georgia,  in  the  imme- 
diate vicinity  of  Atlanta,  the  same  practices  as  in  Lafayette 
parish  in  this  State,  Mr.  Grady,  through  the  Constitution, 
denounced  it  vigorously.  There  were  threats,  but  it  did 
not  affect  the  Constitution,  which  insisted  that  the  New 
South  must  be  a  South  of  peace,  law  and  order. 

We  cannot  at  this  time  review  Mr.  Grady' s  entire 
journalistic  career.  It  is  sufficient  to  say  that  with  his 
colleagues  he  built  up  his  paper  to  be  a  power  in  Georgia 
and  the  South.  His  ability  was  recognized  throughout 


HKNKY     \V.    CIIADY. 

this  section,  but  it  was  not  until  his  famous  speech  at  the 
New  Kngland  dinner  that  his  reputation  became  national. 

When  at  that  dinner,  speaking  for  the  New  South  he 
so  well  represented,  he  pledged  his  brethren  of  the  North 
the  patriotic  devotion  of  the  Southern  people,  he  created 
a  sensation.  Some  «of  the  most  famous  orators  of  the 
country  were  present,  but  without  a  dissenting  voice  it  was 
declared  that  Mr.  Grady's  speech  was  the  event  of  the  day. 
It  sent  a  thrill  throughout  the  Union.  The  Southern  peo- 
ple rose  to  declare  that  Mr.  Grady  had  fully  explained 
their  views  and  ideas,  and  before  his  eloquent  words  the 
prejudice  which  had  lingered  since  the  war  in  many  por- 
tions of  the  North  disappeared.  Perhaps  no  single  event 
tended  more  to  bring  the  sections  closer  together  than  that 
speech,  which  so  eloquently  voiced  the  true  sentiments  of 
the  Southern  people.  A  wave  of  fraternal  feeling  swept 
through  the  country,  and  although  the  Republican  poli- 
ticians managed  to  counteract  some  of  the  good  accom- 
plished, much  of  it  remained.  Mr.  Grady  deserves  remem- 
brance, for  in  a  few  words,  burning  with  eloquence,  he 
swept  away  the  prejudices  of  years. 

The  country  discovered  that  it  contained  an  orator  of 
whom  it  had  known  but  little,  a  statesman  who  helped  to 
remove  the  sectional  hatred  which  had  so  long  retarded  its 
progress.  Mr.  Grady  became  at  once  one  of  the  best- 
known  men  in  the  Union.  He  was  spoken  of  for  United 
States  Senator,  he  was  mentioned  as  Vice-President,  and  it 
looked  as  though  he  could  be  elevated  to  any  position  to 
which  he  aspired ;  but  he  wisely  clung  to  his  journalistic 
career,  satisfied  that  he  could  thereby  best  benefit  his 
State  and  section. 

Mr.  Grady  was  not  a  one-speech  man.  He  has  made 
many  addresses  since  then,  and  while  it  is  tine  that  his 
oilier  speeches  did  not  create  the  same  sensation  as  his 
they  were  all  eloquent,  able  and  patriotic. 

His  career  so  auspiciously  begun,  which  promised  so 
much  to  himself  and  the  country,  has  been  brought  sud- 
denly and  prematurely  to  a  close.  Mr.  Grady  was  a 


HIS    LI  IK,     WKlTINiiS,     AM)    Sl'Kl.CI:  517 

young  man,  and  we  had  every  reason  to  believe  that  he 
would  play  a  leading  part  in  the  South  and  in  tin-  country. 
Although  his  career  is  thus  cut  short,  he  had  accomplished 
much,  and  the  New  South  for  which  he  spoke  will  carry 
on  the  good  work  he  began  of  uniting  the  entire  country 
on  one  broad  and  patriotic  platform. 


SECOND  TO  NONE. 


From  the  "  Louisville  Courier- Journal.^ 

HENRY  W.  GRADY  died  at  his  home  in  Atlanta  yester- 
day. There  is  that  in  the  very  announcement  which  is 
heart-breaking.  He  was  the  rose  and  expectancy  of  the 
young  South,  the  one  publicist  of  the  New  South,  who, 
inheriting  the  spirit  of  the  old,  yet  had  realized  the  present, 
and  looked  into  the  future,  with  the  eyes  of  a  statesman 
and  the  heart  of  a  patriot.  His  own  future  was  fully 
assured.  He  had  made  his  place  ;  had  won  his  spurs ;  and 
he  possessed  the  gifts,  not  merely  to  hold  them,  but  greatly 
to  magnify  their  importance.  That  he  should  be  cut  down 
upon  the  threshold  of  a  career,  for  whose  brilliant  develop- 
ment and  broad  usefulness  all  was  prepared,  is  almost  as 
much  a  public  calamity  as  it  is  a  private  grief.  We  tender 
to  his  family,  and  to  Georgia,  whom  he  loved  with  the 
adoration  of  a  true  son  for  a  mother,  the  homage  of  our 
respectful  and  profound  sympathy. 

Mr.  Grady  became  a  writer  for  the  Courier -Journal 
when  but  little  more  than  a  boy  and  during  the  darkest 
days  of  the  Reconstruction  period.  There  was  in  those 
days  but  a  single  political  issue  for  the  South.  Our  hand 
was  in  the  lion's  mouth,  and  we  could  do  nothing,  hope  for 
nothing,  until  we  got  it  out.  The  young  Georgian  was 
ardent,  impetuous,  the  son  of  a  father  slain  in  battle,  the 
offspring  of  a  section,  the  child  of  a  province  ;  yet  he  rose 
to  the  situation  with  uncommon  faculties  of  courage  and 


.'.IS  H1..NKV    \V.    GRADY, 

perception  ;  caught  the  spirit  of  the  struggle  against 
reaction  with  perfect  reach  ;  and  threw  himself  into  the 
liberal  and  progressive  movements  of  the  time  with  the 
genius  of  a  man  born  for  both  oratory  and  affairs.  He  was 
not  long  with  us.  He  wished  a  wider  field  of  duty,  and 
went  East,  carrying  letters  in  which  he  was  commended  in 
terms  which  might  have  seemed  extravagant  then,  but 
which  he  more  than  vindicated.  His  final  settlement  in 
the  capital  of  his  native  State  and  in  a  position  where  he 
could  speak  directly  and  responsibly,  gave  him  the  oppor- 
tunity he  had  sought  to  make  a  fame  for  himself,  and  an 
audience  of  his  own.  Here  he  carried  the  policy  with 
which,  in  the  columns  of  the  Courier- Journal,  he  had 
early  identified  himself,  to  its  finest  conclusions ;  coming 
at  once  to  the  front  as  a  champion  of  a  free  South  and  a 
united  country,  second  to  none  in  efficiency,  equaled  by 
none  in  eloquence. 

He  was  eager  and  aspiring,  and,  in  the  heedlessness  of 
youth,  with  its  aggressive  ambitions,  may  not  have  been 
at  all  times  discriminating  and  considerate  in  the  objects  of 
his  attacks  ;  but  he  was  generous  to  a  fault,  and,  as  he 
advanced  upon  the  highway,  he  broadened  with  it  and  to  it, 
and,  if  he  had  lived,  would  have  realized  the  fullest  meas- 
ure of  his  own  promise  and  the  hopes  of  his  friends.  The 
scales  of  error,  when  error  he  felt  he  had  committed,  were 
fast  falling  from  his  eyes,  and  he  was  frank  to  own  his 
changed,  or  changing  view.  The  vista  of  the  way  ahead 
was  opening  before  him  with  its  far  perspective  clear  to  his 
mental  sight.  He  had  just  delivered  an  utterance  of  ex- 
ceeding weight  and  value,  at  once  rhetorically  fine  and 
rarely  solid,  and  was  coming  home  to  be  welcomed  by  his 
people  with  open  arms,  when  the  Messenger  of  Death  sum- 
moned him  to  his  last  account.  The  tidings  of  the  fatal 
termination  of  his  disorder  are  startling  in  their  suddenness 
and  unexpectedness,  and  will  be  received  North  and  South 
with  sorrow  deep  and  sincere,  and  far  beyond  the  bounds 
compassed  by  his  personality. 

The  Courier -Journal  was  always  proud  of  him,  hailed 


ms  u i--j-:,    WRITINGS,   AND  SPKI:<  i;  519 

him  as  a  young  disciple  who  had  surpassed  his  elders  in 
learning  and  power,  recognized  in  him  a  master  voice  and 
soul,  followed  his  career  with  admiring  interest,  and  re- 
corded his  triumphs  with  ever-increasing  sympathy  and 
appreciation.  It  is  with  poignant  regret  that  we  record  his 
death.  Such  spirits  are  not  of  a  generation,  but  of  an 
epoch  ;  and  it  will  be  long  before  the  South  will  lind  one  to 
take  the  place  made  conspicuously  vacant  by  his  absence. 


A  LOSS  TO  THE  SOUTH. 


From  the  "  Louisville  Post." 

THE  death  of  Henry  W.  Grady,  of  Atlanta,  after  so 
brief  an  illness  and  in  the  very  prime  of  a  vigorous  young 
manhood,  will  startle  the  whole  country  and  will  be  an 
especial  affliction  to  the  South.  Mr.  Grady  was  a  brilliant 
journalist,  a  man  of  brain  and  heart,  and  by  his  sensible 
and  enthusiastic  policy  has  identified  himself  with  the 
interests  of  the  New  South.  In  fact,  few  men  have  been 
more  largely  instrumental  in  bringing  about  that  salutary 
sentiment,  now  prevailing,  that  it  is  best  for  the  South  to 
look  with  hope  and  courage  to  the  future,  rather  than  to 
live  in  sad  inactivity  amid  the  ruins  of  the  past.  Mr. 
Grady  was  a  warm  and  confident  advocate  of  industrial 
advancement  in  the  land  of  his  birth.  He  wanted  to  see 
the  South  interlaced  with  railroads,  her  rich  mineral  depos- 
its opened  to  development,  her  cities  teeming  with  factories, 
her  people  busy,  contented  and  prosperous.  This  was  his 
mission  as  a  man  and  as  a  journalist,  and  his  influence  has 
been  widespread.  Just  at  this  time  his  loss  will  be  doubly 
severe. 

One  morning  Henry  Grady,  who  had  possessed  little 
more  than  a  sectional  reputation,  woke  up  to  find  himself 
famous  throughout  the  nation.  By  his  speech  at  a  New 
York  banquet  he  sounded  the  key-note  of  fnitrrnul  Union 


IIKMJV   \v.  <;KADY, 

between  North  and  Smith,  and  his  appeal  for  mutual  trust 
and  confidence,  with  commerce  and  industry  to  cement 
more  sfroimly  tlian  ever  the  two  great  sections  of  the  coun- 
try, ni"t  with  a  response  from  both  sides  of  Mas-m  and 
l>i XOM'S  line  more  hearty  than  ever  before.  Many  another 
man  from  the  South  felt  the  same  sentiments  and  would 
have  expressed  them  gladly.  Many  a  man  in  the  North 
felt  that  in  the  South  those  sentiments  were  sincerely  held. 
I'm  Urady  had  a  peculiar  opportunity,  and  right  well  did 
lie  improve  it.  He  expressed  eloquently  and  forcibly  the 
feelings,  the  purposes,  the  very  spirit  of  the  New  South, 
and  in  that  very  moment  he  made  a  reputation  that  is  na- 
tional. It  was  his  good  fortune  to  express  to  the  business 
men  as  well  as  to  the  politicians  of  the  nation  the  idea  of  an 
indivisible  union  of  interests,  of  sentiments  and  of  purposes, 
as  well  as  of  territory. 

In  Mr.  Grady's  own  State  his  death  will  be  most  felt. 
What  he  has  done  for  Georgia  can  only  be  appreciated  by 
those  who  compare  its  present  activity  and  prosperity  with 
the  apathy  and  discontent  which  existed  there  a  few  years 
ago.  The  dead  man  will  be  sincerely  mourned,  but  the 
idea  which  he  made  the  fundamental  one  of  his  brief  career 
will  continue  to  work  out  the  welfare  of  the  New  South. 


THE  DEATH  OF  HENRY  W.  GRADY. 


TIIK  most  brilliant  journalist  of  the  South  is  no  more. 
When  the  news  was  sent  over  the  country  yesterday  morn- 
ing that  Henry  W.  Grady,  the  editor  of  the  Atlanta  Con- 
stitution, was  dead,  there  were  sighs  of  regret  which,  if 
they  could  have  been  gathered  together  into  one  mass, 
would  have  been  heard  across  the  Atlantic.  He  was  pecu- 
liarly gifted.  With  an  imagery  and  wealth  of  language 
that  enabled  him  to  clothe  the  most  uninteresting  subject 


i.iii.,    ui:iiiN»;s,    AM>  si'.u-.<  UK-. 

in  a  pleasing  garb,  he  had  at  the  same  time  the  genius  of 
common  sense  more  fully  developed  that  most  men  now 
prominently  before  the  public.  He  was  born  in  1851  in  the 
town  of  Athens,  Georgia,  and  was  therefore  less  than  forty 
years  of  age.  At  college  he  was  remarkable  among  his 
fellows  for  those  gifts  of  speech  and  pen  which  made  him 
famous.  To  his  eternal  honor,  it  can  be  said  that  in 
neither  the  sanctum  or  the  forum  were  his  powers  used  in 
a  way  to  add  to  any  one's  sorrow  or  distress.  His  writings 
were  clean  and  pure  and  in  every  line  gave  token  of  the 
kind  heart  that  beat  in  his  bosom.  Mr.  Grady  was  a  lova- 
ble man.  Those  who  knew  him  well  entertained  for  him 
the  deepest  affection.  His  face  was  itself  a  fair  type  of  his 
nature,  which  was  essentially  of  the  sunshine  character. 

He  was  restlessly  energetic  and  always  agitating  mat- 
ters that  he  believed  would  be  promotive  of  the  public 
good.  The  Cotton  States'  Exposition  and  the  Piedmont 
Exposition,  both  held  in  Atlanta,  were  literally  the  crea- 
tions of  his  energy  and  enthusiasm  and  pluck.  It  will  no 
doubt  be  readily  admitted  by  his  associates  of  the  Consti- 
tution that  he  was  its  moving  spirit,  and  by  his  powers 
largely  made  it  the  grand  and  magnificent  success  that  it 
undeniably  is. 

The  Young  Men's  Christian  Association  building,  cost- 
ing $100, 000,  arose  as  by  magic  under  the  persuasive  powers 
of  his  tongue  and  pen.  The  list  of  his  works  of  a  practical 
kind  that  now  add  to  Atlanta's  character  and  position 
could  be  indefinitely  extended.  When  he  appealed  to 
Atlanta  he  never  spoke  in  vain,  for  in  addition  to  brains 
and  energy  he  had  those  rare  qualities  of  personal  magnet- 
ism, which  made  his  originality  and  zeal  wonderfully  effec- 
tive. He  entered  into  everything  his  big  head  conceived 
with  his  whole  heart  and  soul. 

He  was  loyal  to  his  city  and  State,  and  never  missed  an 
opportunity  for  aiding  in  their  advancement.  He  was 
sought  out  by  the  young  and  the  old,  and  enjoyed  the  full 
confidence  of  all  who  knew  him. 

His  name  and  faint-,   however,    were  not  confined   to 


622  IIKNKY   \v.   CIUADY, 

Georgia.  In  the  Lone  Star  StaN-,  thousands  Hocked  to  the 
city  of  Dallas  to  hear  his  great  speech  at  the  Texas  State 
Fair.  His  New  York  speech,  a  year  or  two  ago,  fairly 
thrilled  the  country  and  caused  the  enactment  of  scenes 
never  before  witnessed  on  similar  occasions.  No  orator 
had  ever  received  such  an  ovation  in  that  great  city,  and 
none  such  has  been  since  extended  to  any  speaker.  His 
recent  speech  at  Boston  was  calculated  to  do  more  good 
for  the  entire  country  than  anything  that  has  fallen  from 
the  lips  of  any  man  in  the  last  decade.  It  will  be  a  monu- 
ment to  his  memory  more  enduring  than  brass.  It  made  a 
profound  impression  on  those  who  heard  it.  The  senti- 
ments and  truths  he  so  boldly  uttered  are  echoing  and 
re-echoing  among  the  hills  of  New  England  and  over  the 
prairies  of  the  great  West,  and  they  will  bear  rich  fruit  in 
the  near  future.  They  were  things  known  to  us  all  here, 
but  those  who  did  not  know  and  did  not  care  have  been 
set  to  thinking  by  his  eloquent  presentation  of  the  South- 
ern situation.  That  speech,  perhaps,  cost  him  his  life  ; 
but  if  it  produces  the  effect  on  the  Northern  mind  and 
heart  which  it  deserves,  the  great  sacrifice  will  not  have 
been  in  vain.  His  death  will  cause  a  more  earnest  atten- 
tion to  the  great  truths  he  uttered,  and  result  in  an 
emphasis  of  them  that  could  not  have  been  attained  other- 
wise, sad  as  that  emphasis  may  be.  The  death  of  such  a 
man  is  a  national  calamity.  He  had  entered  upon  a  career 
that  would  have  grown  more  brilliant  each  year  of  his  life. 
His  like  will  not  soon  be  seen  and  heard  again. 


UNIVERSAL  SORROW. 


From  the  "  Nashville  American." 


THE  news  of  Mr.  Grady's  death  is  received  with  uni- 
versal sorrow.  No  man  of  his  age  in  the  South  or  in  the 
Union  has  achieved  such  prominence  or  given  premise  of 


HIS    I.IFK,     \VIUTIXGS,    AND   SPEECIIK-.  623 

greater  usefulness  or  higher  honors.  His  reputation  as 
a  journalist  was  deservedly  high  ;  but  he  won  greater 
distinction,  perhaps,  by  his  public  speeches.  He  was 
intensely,  almost  devoutly  Southern,  but  he  had  always 
the  respectful  attention  of  the  North  when  he  spoke  for  the 
land  of  his  nativity.  There  was  the  ring  of  sincerity  in  his 
fervid  utterances,  and  his  audiences,  whether  in  the  North 
or  in  the  South,  felt  that  every  word  came  hot  from  the 
heart.  He  has  done  as  much  as  any  man  to  put  the  South 
right  before  the  world  ;  and  few  have  done  more  to  pro- 
mote its  progress  and  prosperity.  He  was  a  man  of  tre- 
mendous energy,  bodily  and  mental,  and  always  worked 
at  high  tension.  Whatever  subject  interested  him  took 
his  mind  and  body  captive,  and  into  whatever  cause  he 
enlisted  he  threw  all  the  powers  of  his  intellect  and  all  the 
force  of  a  nature  ardent,  passionate,  and  enthusiastic  in  the 
extreme.  It  is  probable  that  the  disease  which  laid  hold  of 
him  found  him  an  easier  prey  because  of  the  restless  energy 
which  had  pushed  his  physical  powers  beyond  their  capa- 
city. His  nervous  and  impetuous  temperament  showed  no 
mercy  to  the  physical  man  and  made  it  impossible  for  him 
to  exercise  a  prudent  self-restraint  even  when  the  danger 
of  a  serious  illness  was  present  with  him. 

Mr.  Grady's  personal  traits  were  such  as  won  the  love 
of  all  who  knew  him.  All  knew  the  brilliant  intellect ; 
but  few  knew  the  warm,  unselfish  heart.  The  place  which 
he  held  in  public  esteem  was  but  one  side  of  his  character ; 
the  place  which  he  held  in  the  hearts  of  his  friends  was  the 
other. 

The  South  has  other  men  of  genius  and  of  promise ;  but 
none  who  combine  the  rare  and  peculiar  qualities  which 
made  Henry  W.  Grady,  at  the  age  of  thirty-eight,  one  of 
the  most  conspicuous  men  of  his  generation. 


II1.NKY    W.    GJtADY, 

THE  HIGHEST  PLACE. 


From  the  "  Charleston  News  and  Courier." 

THE  death  of  Henry  W.  Grady  has  removed  from  earth 
the  most  prominent  figure  among  the  younger  generation 
of  public  men  in  America.  He  held  unquestionably  the 
highest  place  in  the  admiration  and  regard  of  the  people  of 
the  South  that  was  accorded  to  any  man  of  his  years,  and 
had  won,  indeed,  by  his  own  efforts  and  attainments  a  place 
among  the  older  and  the  most  honored  representatives  of 
the  people  of  the  whole  country.  It  was  said  of  him  by  a 
Northern  writer,  a  few  days  before  his  death,  that  no  other 
Southern  man  could  command  so  large  a  share  of  the  atten- 
tion of  the  Northern  people,  and  his  death  was  the  result 
of  a  visit  to  New  England,  whither  he  went  in  response  to 
an  earnest  invitation  to  speak  to  the  people  of  that  section 
upon  a  question  of  the  gravest  national  concern. 

The  people  of  Georgia  both  honored  and  loved  Henry 
Grady,  and  would  have  elected  him  to  any  office  within 
their  gift.  It  is  probable  that,  had  he  lived  but  a  little 
while  longer,  he  would  have  been  made  Governor  of  the 
State,  or  commissioned  to  represent  it  in  the  Senate  of  the 
United  States.  He  would  have  filled  either  of  these  posi- 
tions acceptably  and  with  credit  to  himself  ;  and  perhaps 
even  higher  honors  awaited  him.  When  his  name  was  men- 
tioned a  few  months  ago  in  connection  with  the  nomination 
for  the  second  highest  office  in  the  gift  of  the  people  of  the 
whole  country,  the  feeling  was  general  and  sincere  that  he 
was  fully  worthy,  at  least,  of  the  great  dignity  which  it 
was  proposed  to  confer  upon  him.  Certainly  no  other  evi- 
dence is  required  to  prove  that  the  brave  and  brilliant  young 
Georgian  was  a  marked  man,  and  that  he  had  already  made 
a  deep  impression  on  the  events  and  the  men  of  his  time 
when  he  was  so  suddenly  stricken  down  in  the  flower  of 
u-  fill  and  glorious  manhood. 

It  is  inexpressibly  saddening  to  contemplate  the  un- 


HI-    I.1FK,    \VKITINGR,    AND   SPEECH  K<.  ;Vj;> 

timely  ending  of  so  promising  a  career.  Only  a  few  days 
ago  the  brightest  prospect  that  could  open  before  the  eyes 
of  any  young  man  in  all  this  broad  land  lay  before  the  eyes 
of  Henry  Grady.  To-day  his  eyes  are  closed  to  all  earthly 
scenes.  To-morrow  the  shadows  of  the  grave  will  close 
around  him  forever.  But  it  will  be  long  before  his  influ- 
ence will  cease  to  be  felt.  The  memory  of  his  kindly,  gra- 
cious presence,  of  his  eloquent  words  and  earnest  work,  of 
his  generous  deeds  and  noble  example  in  the  discharge  of 
all  the  duties  of  citizenship,  will  ever  remain  with  those 
who  knew  him  best  and  loved  him  most. 

To  his  wife  and  children  he  has  left  a  rich  inheritance 
in  his  honored  name,  though  he  had  left  them  nothing  else. 
The  people  of  his  State  and  of  the  South  owe  him  a  large 
debt  of  gratitude.  He  served  them  faithfully  and  de- 
votedly. What  he  said  so  well,  only  a  few  months  ago,  of 
one  who  served  with  him,  and  who  like  him  was  stricken 
down  in  the  prime  of  his  life,  can  be  said  of  Henry  Grady 
himself.  It  is  true  of  him  also  that  "his  leadership  has 
never  been  abused,  its  opportunities  never  wasted,  its  power 
never  prostituted,  its  suggestions  never  misdirected." 
Georgia  surely  is  a  better  and  more  prosperous  State 
"  because  he  lived  in  it  and  gave  his  life  freely  and  daily  to 
her  service." 

And  surely,  again,  "no  better  than  this  could  be  said  of 
any  man,"  as  he  said,  and  for  as  much  to  be  written,  in 
truth  and  sincerity,  over  his  grave,  the  best  and  proudest 
man  might  be  willing  to  toil  through  life  and  to  meet  death 
at  last,  as  he  met  it,  "  unf earing  and  tranquil."  His  own 
life,  and  the  record  and  the  close  of  his  life,  are  best 
described  in  these  his  own  words,  written  ten  months  ago, 
and,  perhaps,  no  more  fitting  epitaph  could  be  inscribed  on 
his  tomb  than  tin1  words  which  he  spoke,  almost  at  the  last, 
in  the  hour  of  his  death :  "  Send  word  to  mother  to  pray 
for  me.  Tell  her  if  I  die,  that  I  died  while  trying  to  serve 
the  South — the  land  I  love  so  well." 


626  IN-INKY     \V.    CKADY, 

A  BRILLIANT  CAREER. 


From  the  "Baltimore Sun" 

THE  death  yesterday  at  Atlanta  of  Henry  W.  Grady, 
editor  of  the  Constitution  of  that  city,  is  a  distressing 
shock  to  the  thousands  North  and  South  who  had  learned 
to  admire  his  vigorous  and  impressive  utterances  on  public 
subjects.  Young,  enterprising,  industrious  and  devoted  to 
the  material  advancement  of  his  State  and  section,  he  was 
a  type  of  the  progressive  Southern  man  of  our  day.  In  the 
face  of  the  greatest  possible  difficulties  and  discourage- 
ments he  achieved  success,  intellectual  and  financial,  of  a 
most  substantial  character.  Mr.  Grady's  career  was  brief 
and  meteoric,  but  it  was  also  a  useful  career.  His  strong 
grasp  of  present  facts  enabled  him  to  guide-  and  stimulate 
the  energies  of  those  about  him  into  profitable  channels. 
Full  of  ideas,  which  his  intense,  nervous  nature  fused  into 
sentiment,  he  exerted  an  influence  which  greatly  promoted 
the  progress  and  prosperity  of  his  section.  Outside  his 
own  State  Mr.  Grady  will  be  best  known,  however,  as  a 
brilliant  and  eloquent  speaker.  For  some  years  past  his 
speeches  at  social  gatherings  of  a  semi-public  character  in 
Northern  cities  have  attracted  a  great  deal  of  attention 
North  and  South.  His  earlier  utterances  were  a  trifle  effu- 
sive, conceding  overmuch,  perhaps,  under  the  inspiration  of 
the  moment,  to  the  prejudices  of  his  audience.  In  discuss- 
ing fiscal  measures  he  was  sometimes  at  fault,  political 
economy  not  being  his  strongest  point,  but  as  regards  the 
relations  of  the  sections,  and  especially  as  regards  the  so- 
called  Southern  problem,  he  was  a  beacon  of  light  to  his 
Northern  auditors.  His  last  speech  at  Boston  the  other 
day — the  delivery  of  which  may  be  said  to  have  brought 
about  his  death — is  a  fitting  monument  of  his  genius  and 
impassioned  eloquence.  It  thrilled  the  country  with  its 
assertion  of  the  right  of  the  white  race  of  the  South  to 
intelligent  government  and  its  determination  never  again 


HIS    1. 1 FK,     \VKHI.\tiS,     AM)    SPEECHES.  627 

to  submit  to  the  misrule  of  the  African.  Mr.  Grady's 
speech  on  this  occasion  was  remarkable  not  only  for  its 
fervor  and  frankness — which  conciliated  his  most  unrelent- 
ing political  opponents — but  also  for  its  wealth  of  recent 
fact,  concisely  stated  and  conclusive  upon  the  point  he  had 
in  view.  Is  the  full  vote,  as  shown  by  the  census,  not 
always  cast  in  Southern  elections?  Neither  is  it  cast  in 
Northern  States,  Mr.  Grady  showed,  appealing  to  the  facts 
of  the  elections  of  November  last.  "When,"  President 
Harrison  asked  in  his  last  message,  referring  to  the  colored 
voter  of  the  South — "when  is  he  to  have  those  full  civic 
rights  which  have  so  long  been  his  in  law  ? "  He  will  have 
them,  Mr.  Grady  answered,  when  the  poor,  ignorant,  and 
dependent  emplo37e  everywhere  gets  his.  The  colored 
voter  of  the  South  cannot  be  reasonably  expected,  he 
pointed  out,  to  exercise  his  civil  rights  to  a  greater  extent 
than  such  rights  are  exercised  by  persons  in  his  position  in 
the  North  and  West.  The  point  of  view  here  taken  was 
new  to  Mr.  Grady's  audience  and  new  to  the  Northern 
press.  The  effect  of  his  speech,  as  a  whole,  upon  Northern 
opinion  has  been,  it  is  believed,  most  beneficial.  In  the 
South  it  was  welcomed  as  an  effort  to  put  the  Northern  par- 
tisan in  a  position  to  see  in  their  true  light  the  hardship 
and  danger  with  which  the  South  is  perpetually  confronted. 
In  some  remarks  made  later  at  the  Bay  State  Club,  in 
Boston,  Mr.  Grady  adverted  to  a  larger  problem — one  that 
confronts  the  whole  country.  "  It  seems  to  me,"  he  said, 
"  that  the  great  struggle  in  this  country  is  a  fight  against 
the  consolidation  of  power,  the  concentration  of  capital,  the 
domination  of  local  sovereignty  and  the  dwarfing  of  the 
individual  citizen.  It  is  the  democratic  doctrine  that  the 
citizen  is  master,  and  that  he  is  best  fitted  to  carry  out  the 
diversified  interests  of  the  country.  It  is  the  pride,  I 
believe,  of  the  South  that  her  simple  and  sturdy  faith,  the 
homogeneous  nature  of  her  people,  elevate  her  citizens 
above  party.  We  teach  the  man  that  his  best  guide  is  the 
consciousness  of  his  sovereignty  :  that  he  may  not  ask  the 
national  government  for  anything  the  State  can  do  for  him, 


JIKNKY     \V.    (iKADV, 

and  not  :isk  anything  of  the  State  that  he  can  do  for  him- 
si-lf."  These  views  maik  the  breadth  of  the  speaker's 
statesmanship,  and  show  that  it  embraced  interests  wider 
i  hau  those  of  his  own  section — as  wide,  in  fact,  as  the  con- 
tinent itself.  Mr.  Grady  died  of  pneumonia,  complicati  <1 
with  nervous  prostration.  His  early  death,  at  the  outset  of 
a  most  promising  career,  is  a  warning  to  others  of  our 
public  men  who  are  under  a  constant  nervous  tension.  At- 
tempting too  much,  they  work  under  excessive  pressure, 
and  when,  owing  to  some  accident,  they  need  a  margin  of 
strength,  there  is  none. 


A  PUBLIC  CALAMITY. 


From  the  "  Selma  Times  and  Mail." 

AT  forty  minutes  past  three  o'clock  on  Monday  morn- 
ing Henry  W.  Grady,  the  distinguished  editor  of  the 
Atlanta  Constitution,  died  at  his  home  of  pneumonia. 
No  announcement  of  the  death  of  any  leading  man  of  the 
South  has  ever  created  a  more  profound  impression,  or 
caused  more  genuine  and  universal  sorrow  than  will  the 
sad  news  of  the  demise  of  this  brilliant  young  Georgian, 
coming  as  it  does  when  he  was  at  the  very  zenith  of  his 
fame  and  usefulness.  The  death  of  Mr.  Grady  is  a  public 
calamity  that  will  be  mourned  by  the  entire  country.  It 
is  no  exaggeration  to  say  that  no  orator  in  the  United 
States  since  the  days  of  S.  S.  Prentiss  has  had  such  won- 
derful power  over  his  audiences  as  Henry  W.  Grady. 
This  fact  has  been  most  forcibly  illustrated  by  his  two 
memorable  speeches  at  the  North,  the  first  in  New  York 
something  over  a  year  ago,  the  second  recently  delivered 
in  Boston  and  with  the  praises  of  which  the  country  is 
still  ringing  Sad,  sad  indeed  to  human  perception  that 
such  a  brilliant  light  should  have  been  extinguished  when 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND    SPEECHES.  629 

it  was  shining  the  brightest  and  doing  the  most  to  dispel 
the  mists  of  prejudice.  But  an  All-wise  Providence  knows 
best.  His  servant  had  run  his  course,  he  had  fulfilled  his 
destiny.  The  heart  of  the  South  has  been  made  sad  to 
overflowing  in  a  short  space  of  time.  Davis — Grady,  types 
of  the  past  and  the  present,  two  noble  representatives  of 
the  highest  order  of  Southern  manhood  and  intelligence, 
representing  two  notable  eras,  have  passed  away  and  left  a 
brilliant  mark  on  the  pages  of  history. 

Henry  W.  Grady  was  a  native  Georgian.  He  was  born 
in  Athens  in  1851,  and  consequently  was  too  young  to  par- 
ticipate in  the  late  war,  but  his  father  lost  his  life  in 
defense  of  the  Confederate  cause,  and  the  son  was  an 
ardent  lover  of  the  South.  At  an  early  age  he  developed 
remarkable  talent  for  journalism  and  entered  the  pro- 
fession as  the  editor  of  the  Rome,  Ga.,  Commercial. 
After  conducting  this  paper  for  several  years  he  moved  to 
Atlanta,  and  established  the  Daily  Herald.  When  Mr. 
Grady  came  to  the  Constitution  in  1880  he  soon  became 
famous  as  a  correspondent,  and  his  letters  were  read  far 
and  wide,  and  when  he  assumed  editorial  control  of  the 
Constitution,  the  paper  at  once  felt  the  impulse  of  his 
genius,  and  from  that  day  has  pushed  steadily  forward  in 
popular  favor  and  in  influence  until  both  it  and  its  bril- 
liant editor  gained  national  reputation.  No  agencies  have 
been  more  potent  for  the  advancement  of  Atlanta  than 
Grady  and  the  Constitution,  the  three  indissolubly  linked 
together,  and  either  of  the  three  names  suggests  the  other. 

As  a  type  of  the  vigorous  young  Southerner  of  the  so- 
called  New  South  Mr.  Grady  has  w-on  the  admiration  of 
the  country  and  gone  far  to  the  front,  but  he  has  been  the 
soul  of  loyalty  to  his  section,  and  has  ever  struck  down- 
right and  powerful  blows  for  the  Democratic  cause  and  for 
the  rule  of  intelligence  in  the  South.  From  the  Potomac 
to  the  Rio  Grande  all  over  our  beautiful  Southland  to-day, 
there  will  be  mourning  and  sympathy  with  Georgia  for  the 
loss  of  her  gifted  son. 


530  1 1  J:\KY  w.  GRADY, 

GRIEF  TEMPERS  TO-DAY'S  JOY. 


From  the  "Austin,  Tex.,  Statesman.'1 

WHEN  an  old  man,  full  of  years,  and  smitten  with  the 
decrepitude  they  bring,  goes  down  to  the  grave,  the  world, 
though  saddened,  bows  its  acquiescence.  It  is  recognized 
that  lonely  journey  is  a  thing  foredoomed  from  the  founda- 
tion of  the  world — it  is  the  way  of  all  things  mortal. .  But 
when  a  young  man,  full  of  the  vigor  of  a  sturdy  life  grow- 
ing into  its  prime,  is  suddenly  stricken  from  the  number  of 
the  quick,  a  nation  is  startled  and,  resentful  of  the  stroke, 
would  rebel,  but  that  such  decrees  come  from  a  Power 
that  earth  cannot  reach,  and  which,  though  working 
beyond  the  ken  of  fallible  understanding,  yet  doeth  all 
things  well. 

For  the  second  time  within  the  past  two  weeks  the 
JSouth  has  been  called  upon  to  mourn  the  demise  of  a 
chosen  and  well -beloved  son.  The  two  men  maybe  classi- 
fied according  to  an  analysis  first  of  all  instituted  by  him 
whose  funeral  to-day  takes  place  in  Atlanta.  Jefferson 
Davis  was  typical  of  the  Old  South — Henry  W.  Grady  of 
the  New.  And  by  this  we  mean  not  that  the  South  has 
put  away  those  things  that,  as  a  chosen  arid  proud  people, 
they  have  cherished  since  first  there  was  a  State  govern- 
ment in  the  South.  They  have  the  same  noble  type  of 
manhood,  the  same  chivalrous  ambitions,  the  same  love  of 
home  and  state  and  country,  they  are  as  determined  in 
purpose,  as  unswerving  in  the  application  of  principle. 
But  what  is  meant  is  that  the  material  conditions  of  the 
South  have  changed,  the  economics  of  an  empire  of  terri- 
tory have  been  radically  altered.  Not  only  has  a  new  class 
of  field  labor  taken  the  place  of  the  long-accustomed  slave 
help,  but  industries  unknown  in  the  South  before  the  war 
have  invaded  our  fair  lands,  and  the  rush  and  whir  of 
manufactories  are  all  around  us.  It  is  in  this  that  the 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND  SPEECHES.  531 

South  has  changed.  Jefferson  Davis,  in  his  declining  years 
ushered  into  the  reign  of  peace,  was  never  truly  identified 
with  the  actualities  of  the  living  present,  in  the  sense  of  a 
man  who,  from  the  present,  was  for  himself  carving  out  a 
future.  His  life  was  past,  and  for  him  the  past  contained 
the  most  of  earthly  life — his  was  an  existence  of  history, 
not  of  activity — he  was  the  personification  of  the  Old  South. 

Mr.  Grady  was  too  young  to  have  participated  in  the 
Civil  War.  He  was  then  but  a  boy,  and  has  grown  into 
manhood  and  power  since  the  time  when  the  issues  that 
gave  birth  to  that  war  were  settled.  His  has  been  a  life 
of  the  realistic  present.  He  brought  to  a  study  of  the 
changes  that  were  going  on  around  him  a  keenly  percep- 
tive and  a  well-trained  mind — he  studied  the  problems  that 
surrounded  him  thoroughly  and  conscientiously,  and  his 
conclusions  were  almost  invariably  the  soundest.  He  real- 
ized the  importance  and  responsibility  of  his  position  as 
the  editor  of  a  widely  circulating  newspaper,  and  he  was 
unfaltering  in  his  zeal  to  discharge  his  every  duty  with 
credit  to  himself  and  profit  to  his  people.  He  was  the 
champion  of  the  Southern  people  through  the  columns  of 
his  paper  and  upon  the  rostrum — and  when  he  fell  beneath 
the  unexpected  stroke  of  the  grim  reaper,  the  South  lost  a 
true  and  valiant  friend,  the  ablest  defender  with  pen  and 
word  retort  this  generation  has  known. 

As  two  weeks  ago  the  South  bowed  in  sorrow  over  the 
last  leaf  that  had  fluttered  down  from  the  tree  of  the  past, 
so  to-day,  as  the  mortal  remains  of  Henry  W.  Grady  are 
lowered  into  the  tomb,  she  should  cease  from  the  merriment 
of  the  gladsome  holiday  season,  and  drop  a  tear  upon  the 
grave  of  him  who,  though  so  young  in  years,  had  in  such 
brilliant  paragraphs  bidden  defiance  to  ancient  prejmluv, 
scoffed  at  partisan  bigotry,  and  proudly  invited  the  closest 
scrutiny  and  criticism  of  the  South.  That  South  in  him 
has  lost  a  warm-hearted  friend  whom  manhood  bids  us 
mourn. 


G32  1IKNRY    W.    GRADY, 

HENRY  GRADY'S  DEATH. 


From  the  "  Charleston  Evening  Sun." 

HENRY  GRADY  is  dead. 

With  what  an  electric  shock  of  pain  and  grief  will  this 
simple  announcement  thrill  the  entire  country.  His  death, 
following  close  upon  the  death  of  the  chieftain  of  the  Old 
South — full  of  age  and  honors,  and  followed  to  the  grave 
by  the  reverential  and  chastened  grief  of  a  whole  people — 
is  in  striking  contrast  and  more  poignant  in  its  nature, 
since  the  young  Hercules  thus  prematurely  cut  down  had 
just  sprung  to  the  front  as  leader  and  chieftain  of  the  New- 
South,  and  was  largely  the  embodiment  of  her  renaissance, 
her  rejuvenescent  life  and  hopes  and  aspirations,  as  the 
other  was  of  her  dead  and  sacred  past. 

In  the  prime  of  life  and  the  flower  of  robust  manhood, 
having  just  signalized  himself  by  a  triumph  in  which  all 
•his  powers  of  culture,  talent,  and  patriotism  were  t;ixcd  to 
the  highest  and  nobly  responded  to  the  .demand  made 
them,  and  having  placed  himself  in  the  foremost  ranks  of 
the  world's  great  men  as  a  splendid  type  of  the  South' s 
peculiar  qualities,  as  a  worthy  heir  of  the  virtues  of  the 
Old  South,  and  as  the  strongest  champion  of  the  hopes  of 
the  New,  his  death  at  this  time  is  to  her  a  distinct  calam- 
ity. And  yet  for  his  own  individual  fame's  sake  it  is  to  be 
doubted  whether  Mr.  Grady,  lived  he  "a  thousand  years, 
would  find"  himself  "  so  apt  to  die,"  as  now  in  the  zenith 
of  his  fame,  with  his  "blushing  honors  thick  upon  him." 

With  Burke  he  could  say,  "I  can  shut  the  book.  T 
might  wish  to  read  a  page  or  two  more.  But  this  is 
enough  for  my  measure." 

Mr.  Grady  had  gained  the  attention  of  the  Northern 
ear  and  the  confidence  of  the  Northern  people  as  no  other 
Southerner  could  boast  of  having  done.  When  those 
"grave  and  reverend  seigniors"  of  the  stern,  inflexible, 
unemotional  Puritan  race,  who  not  a  fortnight  since,  in 


HIS   LIFK,    WHITINGS,    AND    SPEECHES.  633 

Boston's  banquet  hall,  wept  manly  unused  tears  at  the 
magic  eloquence  and  pathos  of  the  young  Southerner's 
words,  and  fell  to  love  him  for  the  uncompromising  truth, 
the  manliness,  the  directness  and  the  candor  of  them,  and 
for  the  personal  grace  and  fascination  and  humanitarian 
kindliness  of  the  speaker — when  they  learn  that  this  being, 
so  lately  among  them,  the  chief  object  of  their  care  and 
attention,  and  so  sentient-seeming  and  bounding  with  life 
and  the  God-given  inspiration  of  more  than  mortal  vigor 
called  genius — that  this  being,  so  gifted,  so  sanguine,  lies 
cold  and  breathless  in  the  chill  arms  of  death,  shall  they 
not,  and  through  them  the  great  people  of  whom  they  are 
the  proudest  representatives,  mingle  their  tears  with  ours 
over  the  mortal  remains  of  this  new  dead  son  of  the  South, 
in  whose  heart  was  no  rankling  of  the  old  deathly  fratri- 
cidal bitterness,  but  whose  voice  was  ever  raised  for  the 
re-cementing  of  the  fraternal  ties  so  rudely  broken  by  the 
late  huge  world-shaking  internecine  strife  ? 

And  shall  not  his  great  appeal — yet  echoing  over  the 
country — for  justice,  moderation,  forbearance,  appreciation 
for  the  South  and  the  social  evil  under  which  she  is  provi- 
dentially unequally  laboring  to  her  destiny,  be  inerasibly 
impressed  upon  the  country,  coming  as  it  does  from  the 
lips  of  a  dying  man  ? 

In  the  death  of  Jefferson  Davis  the  last  barrier  to  a 
complete  reunion  of  the  sections  was  removed.  In  the 
death  of  Henry  Grady  the  North  and  the  South  will  be 
brought  together  to  mourn  a  mutual  bereavement.  If  it 
shall  be  the  cause  of  completing  the  reunion  of  the  sec- 
tions, his  sad  and  untimely  death  will  not  have  been  in 
vain. 

TWO  DEAD  MEN. 


From  the  "  Greenville,  S.  C.,  News." 

IN  the  early  days  of  this  last  month  of  the  year  Jeffer- 
son Davis,  old,  feeble  and  weary,  was  lifted  gently  from 


634  HKXRY   W.    GRADY, 

this  world  to  the  other,  borne  across  the  river  in  the  arms 
of  Death  as  softly  as  a  tired  child  carried  on  a  father's 
breast.  Yesterday  Henry  Grady,  a  young,  strong  man, 
rejoicing  in  his  growing  strength,  with  the  blood  of  life  and 
power  and  hope  bounding  through  his  veins,  flushed  with 
the  triumph  of  new  and  splendid  achievement  and  returned 
to  his  home  with  the  proud  burden  of  fresh  laurels  well 
won,  was  swiftly  struck  down  by  that  relentless  power  and 
taken  from  the  world  he  graced  and  lighted,  to  be  known 
and  heard  no  more. 

When  Mr.  Davis  died  the  people  of  the  South  turned 
back  to  mourn,  to  heap  high  the  tributes  of  their  honor  and 
affection  on  the  grave  wherein  sleeps  the  representative  of 
a  cause  lost  except  to  memory,  of  a  past  gone  forever. 
When  Grady  went  down,  a  captain  of  the  host,  a  leader  of 
the  present  battle,  fell,  and  along  all  the  far-stretching  lines 
the  shock  and  loss  will  be  felt. 

He  was  happy  in  the  time  of  his  death — happy  as  is  the 
soldier  who  falls  in  the  supreme  moment  of  triumph,  when 
he  has  struck  a  grand  and  sweeping  blow  for  his  cause  and 
the  proclamation  of  his  glory  and  jubilation  of  his  comrades 
make  music  to  attend  his  soul  in  its  departure.  He  had  led 
in  the  steady  march  of  the  South  upward  to  prosperity  and 
a  high  place  among  the  peoples  of  the  earth  ;  his  watchful 
eye  was  everywhere  in  the  ranks  ;  his  spirit  of  courage  and 
hope  was  felt  everywhere.  His  voice  rang  out  clear  and 
st  irring  as  the  trumpet's  blare  to  arouse  the  lagging,  to  call 
the  faltering  forward,  to  fill  all  the  air  with  faith  in  the 
South  and  the  glory  of  her  future,  so  that  weak  men  grew 
strong  in  breathing  it  and  the  timid  were  fired  with  the 
valor  of  belief.  He  stood  high  and  far  i-n  the  front  and 
proclaimed  to  all  the  world  the  spirit  and  the  purpose  of 
i  In-  young  men  of  his  country — the  men  young  in  heart  and 
living  and  thinking  in  the  atmosphere  and  light  of  to-day. 
He  proclaimed  it  so  well  that  the  measured  music  of  his 
\\ords  was  heard  above  the  clamoring  of  hate  and  penetrated 
tin-  dullness  of  indifferent  ears,  moving  the  hearts  of  the 
people  to  unity  and  stimulating  the  manhood  of  the  coun- 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  635 

try  to  shake  from  it  factional  and  sectional  rage  and  con- 
secrate itself  to  a  common  patriotism,  a  single  love  for  a 
great  Republic. 

That  was  his  work,  and  he  died  doing  it  as  no  other  man 
had  done  it.  He  had  gained  his  place  by  the  power  of  his 
own  strength  before  his  years  had  brought  him  to  the  prime 
of  his  manhood,  and  he  fell  in  it  just  after  he  had  stood 
shoulder  to  shoulder  and  shared  hearing  and  honors  with 
the  country's  foremost  man  who  has  occupied  the  country's 
highest  place. 

His  life  was  crowded  with  successful  endeavor ;  in  deeds, 
in  achievement  for  his  country  and  his  people  and  in  hon- 
ors he  was  an  old  man.  He  had  done  in  less  than  two-score 
years  more  than  it  is  given  to  most  men  to  do  to  the  time 
of  whitened  hair  and  trembling  limbs,  and  he  had  earned 
his  rest.  The  world  had  little  more  to  offer  him  but  its 
inevitable  cares  and  disappointments  ;  the  promise  from  his 
past  was  that  he  had  much  more  to  do  for  the  world  and 
his  fellow-man.  The  loss  is  his  country's. 

His  whole  country — and  especially  the  South  he  loved 
so  well — owes  to  his  memory  what  it  cannot  now  express 
to  him — honor  and  gratitude. 

His  powerful  presence  is  gone  ;  the  keen  and  watchful 
eyes  are  closed  forever  ;  the  vibrant  voice  is  hushed.  But 
his  words  will  live,  his  work  will  last  and  grow  ;  his  mem- 
ory will  stand  high  on  the  roll  of  the  South' s  sons  who  have 
wrought  gloriously  for  her  in  war  and  in  peace,  who  by 
valor  or  wisdom  have  won  the  right  to  be  remembered  with 
love  and  called  with  pride. 


GRADY'S  RENOWN. 


From  the  "Birmingham  News." 

No  such  universality  of  personal  poignant  sorrow  ever 
pervaded  a  city  as  that  which  overshadows  the  capital  of 
Georgia.  There,  everybody  knew  Henry  Grady,  and  it 


636  III.NKY     W.    JJKADY, 

n«»t.  the  journalist  imd  orator  and  statesman  they 
saluf<,'<l  familiarly  everywhere — in  public  assemblies  and 
on  the  streets  and  at  their  firesides.  Every  home  in  i In- 
city  was  in  fact  the  home  of  the  kindly,  generous,  la  null- 
ing philosopher,  whose  business  it  was  to  make  his  people 
happy,  his  city  prosperous,  and  his  State  the  foremost  of 
Southern  commonwealths. 

And  then  his  grand  purpose  in  life  was  the  restoration 
of  the  unity  and  integrity  of  the  States.  His  speeches  in 
New  York  and  Boston,  that  will  live  as  long  as  unhappy 
memories  of  inter-State  hostilities,  which  he  proposed  to 
dissipate  forever,  followed  one  another  naturally.  The 
first  portrayed  the  necessity  for  a  perfect  Federal  Union. 
The  second  and  last  defined  the  only  method  of  achieving 
it.  The  first  paved  the  way  for  a  presidential  contest, 
from  which  sectional  issues  were  almost  wholly  eviscer- 
at'-d.  President  Cleveland  was  so  thoroughly  imbued 
with  the  sentiment  and  purpose  of  Grady's  oration  at  the 
Nt-w  England  dinner  in  New  York  that  he  hazarded,  or 
sacrificed,  deliberately  the  certainty  of  partisan  and  per- 
sonal triumph  that  the  country  might  escape  greater 
calamities,  involved  necessarily  in  a  conflict  in  which 
African  ex-slaves  became  the  sole  subject  of  passionate 
controversy  and  maddening  declamation.  The  campaign 
was  one  of  practical  and  not  sentimental  issues. 

Everybody  has  read  the  recent  more  wonderful  out- 
burst of  passionate  eloquence  that  startled  Boston  and  the 
East,  and  forced  New  England,  for  the  first  time,  to  con- 
template the  relations  of  races  in  the  South  as  did  Mr. 
(irady,  and  as  do  New  Englanders  themselves,  having 
homes  in  the  Gulf  States.  Facts  propounded  wrere  unques- 
tionable, palpable  truths.  There  was  no  answer  to  his 
irrefragable  logic.  Grady's  matchless  eloquence  charmed 
every  listener.  His  peroration  will  become  the  choicest 
specimen  of  impassioned  oratory  declaimed  by  schoolboys 
in  every  academy  in  which  proper  pedagogues  inculcate 
proper  patriotism  in  all  this  broad  land. 

Tin 'ii  came  Grady's  death.     It  shocked  the  country 


HIS    LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  537 

that  a  man  so  gifted  and  the  only  American  capable  of 
pronouncing  an  oration  as  faultless  as  the  philippics  of 
Demosthenes,  or  as  tin-  sturdy,  resistless  orations  of  Glad- 
stone, could  not  live  immortal  as  his  prophetic  sentences 
that  still  illumine  the  brain  and  electrify  the  heart  of  an 
entire  people. 

Grady's  two  speeches  in  the  East,  if  he  had  never  writ- 
ten or  spoken  aught  else,  would  be  the  Leuctra  and  Man- 
tinea,  immortal  victories  and  only  daughters  of  an  Epami- 
nondas.  If  there  survived  no  other  children  of  Henry 
Grady's  genius  than  these  two,  his  renown  would  be  as 
lasting  as  the  glory  and  greatness  and  peace  of  the  Repub- 
lic which  he  gave  his  life  to  assure. 


HENRY  W.  GRADY. 


From  the  "Augusta  Chronicle" 

Two  weeks  ago  the  people  of  the  South  were  called 
upon  to  mourn  the  death  of  Jefferson  Davis.  An  aired 
man  was  gathered  to  his  home  in  the  fullness  of  years,  with 
his  life-work  done.  He  was  the  embodiment  of  a  sacred 
past,  and  men  turned  with  reverence  to  do  him  honor  for 
the  cause  he  had  championed. 

To-day  the  people  again  note  the  presence  of  the  Great 
Reaper.  This  time  a  young  man  is  cut  down  in  the  prime 
of  life.  His  \\ork  lay  bright  before  him.  His  face  was  to- 
ward the  morning.  The  one  represented  all  that  the  South 
had  been  :  the  other  much  that  she  hoped  to  be.  He  was 
the  inspiration  of  a  renewed  and  awakened  South  with  a 
heart  full  of  reverence  and  hope  and  buoyancy-  bound  to 
the  past  by  tender  memories,  but  confident  of  the  future 
wifli  all  the  heartiness  of  a  sanguine  nature.  Possibly  it 
was  because  of  the  progressive  sentiments  which  he 
breathed  that  all  sections  and  all  people  are  today  in 
grief  over  the  gifted  dead.  There  is  mourning  in  every 


538  MKNIIV    W.    ORADY, 

Georgia  hamlet,  such  as  there  has  been  for  no  young  man 
since  Thomas  R.  R.  Cobb  was  brought  home  a  corpse  from 
Fredericksburg.  There  are  tributes  of  respect  from  Bos- 
ton, where  he  stood  last  week,  with  his  face  aglow  with 
the  light  of  a  newer  life,  to  Texas,  where  last  year  he  deliv- 
ered a  message  of  fiery  eloquence  to  his  people.  It  was  the 
national  feeling  which  Henry  Grady  had  kindled  in  the 
South — a  faith  in  our  future,  a  devotion  to  the  Union — a 
practical  setting  to  our  destiny — that  now  lament  the  loss 
of  such  a  man,  and  which  sends  over  the  wires  from  every 
section  of  the  country  the  words,  "Untimely,  how  un- 
timely ! " 

Henry  W.  Grady  was  born  in  Athens.  He  was  but 
thirty-eight  when  he  died.  His  father  was  a  country  mer- 
chant who  kept  his  family  in  competency,  and  the  house, 
where  little  Henry  used  to  leave  his  romping  playmates  to 
read  Dickens  under  the  trees,  now  stands  on  Prince  avenue, 
with  its  deep  shades,  its  gleaming  white  pillars,  its  high 
fence  and  old-time  appearance.  When  war  came  on  the 
elder  Grady  went  out  with  his  company.  His  name  now 
indents  the  marble  side  of  the  soldiers'  monument  in 
Athens — erected  to  those  who  fell  in  battle.  Educated  at 
the  State  University,  Henry  Woodfin  Grady  graduated  in 
1868.  In  his  class  were  Albert  H.  Cox,  George  T.  Goetch- 
ius,  P.  W.  Meldrin,  Julius  L.  Brown,  W.  \V.  Thomas  and 
J.  H.  Rucker — among  the  living — and  Charles  S.  DuBose, 
AY  niter  S.  Gordon,  Davenport  Jackson,  and  F.  Bowdre 
Phinizy  among  the  dead.  In  college  Henry  Grady  was 
more  of  a  reader  than  a  student.  He  knew  every  character 
in  Dickens  and  could  repeat  the  Christmas  Stories  by  heart. 
I !••  was  a  bright,  companionable  boy,  full  of  frankness, 
brimming  over  with  fun  and  kindness,  and  without  a 
thought  of  the  great  career  that  lay  before  him.  From 
Athens  he  went  to  Rome  where  he  engaged  in  newspaper 
work.  His  letters  to  the  Atlanta  papers  attracted  the  at- 
tention of  Col.  I.  W.  A  very, , who  gave  him  several  odd 
jobs.  There  was  a  dash  and  creaminess  in  his  sketch  work 
which  became  popular  at  once.  From  Rome  young  Grady 


HIS    LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND    SPEECH  KS.  539 

went  to  Atlanta,  and  with  Col.  Robert  A.  Alston  started 
the  Atlanta  Herald. 

From  this  time  he  has  been  a  public  figure  in  Georgia. 
The  Herald  was  immensely  popular.  Its  methods  were  all 
new.  Grady  widened  its  columns  to  make  it  look  like 
Horace  Greeley's  paper,  and  hired  special  engines  in  imita- 
tion of  James  Gordon  Bennett.  He  made  money  but  spent 
it  lavishly  for  news.  His  editorial  sketches  were  wonder- 
fully clever.  His  "Last  Man  in  the  Procession,"  "The 
Trained  Journalist,"  "Toombsand  Brown,"  attracted  wide 
attention.  But  the  Herald  could  not  stand  this  high  pres- 
sure. Under  the  cool,  skilled  management  of  the  Constitu- 
tion, Grady' s  paper  succumbed,  and  with  it  all  of  his  pri- 
vate means  were  lost.  The  young  man  in  1876  was  abso- 
lutely penniless.  It  was  then  his  genius  burst  forth, 
however.  The  New  York  Herald  ordered  everything  he 
could  write.  The  Augusta  Constitutionalist  paid  for  his 
letters  from  Atlanta.  He  started  a  Sunday  paper,  which 
he  afterwards  gave  up,  and  pretty  soon  he  was  regularly 
engaged  by  the  Atlanta  Constitution.  During  the  electoral 
trouble  in  Florida,  Grady  kept  the  Northern  papers  full  of 
luminous  sketches  about  politics  and  fraud.  Then  he  com- 
menced to  write  up  the  orange  interests  in  Florida,  winning 
the  attention  of  the  North  and  attracting  scores  of  visitors 
to  the  Land  of  Flowers.  Next  he  took  up  bee  culture  and 
stock  raising  in  Georgia.  He  made  the  sand  pear  of 
Thomasville  famous.  He  revived  the  melon  interest,  and, 
in  his  wizard-like  way,  got  the  people  to  believe  in  diversi- 
fied farming.  There  was  a  richness  and  lightness  in  his 
touch  which  added  interest  to  the  most  practical  subject. 
What  he  handled  was  adorned.  He  drew  people  to  Atlanta 
by  his  pen-pictures  of  a  growing  town.  In  the  Philadelphia 
Times  of  this  period  were  fine  letters  about  public  men  and 
battles  of  the  war.  He  became  a  personality  us  well  as  a 
power  in  journalism.  No  man  was  better  known  in  Georgia 
than  Henry  Grady. 

Henry  Grady,  shortly  after  he  left  college,  was  married 
to  Miss  Jule  King,  daughter  of  Dr.  Wm.  King,  of  Athens. 


540  III.XHV    W.    GRADY, 

Two  children,  Gussie  and  Henry,  bear  his  name.  Mr. 
Grady's  work  on  the  Constitution  was  inspirational.  When 
he  became  interested  he  would  apply  himself  closely,  work- 
ing night  and  day  in  a  campaign  or  upon  a  crusade.  Then 
he  would  lighten  up,  contenting  himself  with  general  super- 
vision ;  frequently  taking  trips  away  for  diversion.  He 
was  singularly  temperate — not  drinking  wine  or  using 
tobacco  ;  but  his  emotional  nature  kept  him  constantly  at 
concert  pitch.  His  nervous  system  was  in  perpetual  strain 
and  he  sank  as  soon  as  stricken. 

It  was  in  1877  that  he  made  his  first  appearance  as  a 
speaker.  His  lecture  that  year,  entitled  "Patchwork 
Palace,"  showed  his  fancy  and  talent  as  a  talker  as  well  as 
a  writer.  Then  came  his  speeches  in  the  prohibition  con- 
test in  1885.  His  New  England  banquet  address  in  Decem- 
ber, 1886,  was  his  first  distinctive  political  speech.  It 
stamped  him  as  an  eloquent  orator  and  made  him  national 
fame.  His  oration  at  the  Augusta  Exposition  on  Thanks- 
giving day  last  year  was  a  perfect  effort,  and  his  Dallas 
address  in  October  was  a  fearless  and  manly  analysis  of  the 
race  problem.  It  was  this  subject,  classified  and  digested, 
that  made  up  his  Boston  address,  where,  last  week,  he  com- 
pleted his  fame  and  met  his  death.  His  address  last  year 
at  the  University  of  Virginia  was  a  model  of  its  kind. 

Of  late  years  Henry  Grady  had  been  settling  down  to 
the  level  of  a  solid  worker,  a  close  thinker  and  safe  leader. 
If  there  was  anything  in  his  way  to  wide  influence  in  earlier 
life,  it  was  his  irrepressible  fancy  and  bubbling  spirit. 
These  protruded  in  speech  and  writing.  But  as  he  grew 
older  he  lopped  off  this  redundant  tegument.  He  never 
lost  the  artist's  touch  or  the  poet's  enthusiasm.  But  age 
and  experience  brought  conservatism.  He  became  a  power 
in  politics  from  the  day  the  Herald  backed  Gordon  for  the 
Senate  in  1872.  He  followed  Ben  Hill  in  his  campaign  with 
great  skill,  and  in  1880  did  as  much  as  any  man  to  win  the 
great  Colquitt-Brown  victory.  In  1886  he  managed  Gen. 
Gordon's  canvass  for  Governor,  and  in  1887  planned  and 
conducted  the  first  successful  Piedmont  Exposition. 


HIS    LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND    SPEECH  KS. 

Some  may  say  that  Henry  Grady  died  at  the  right  time 
for  his  fame.  This  may  be  true  as  to  others,  but  not  as  to 
him.  They  know  not,  who  thus  judge  him,  what  was  in 
the  man.  Some  mature  early  in  life  and  their  mentality  is 
not  increased  by  length  of  years,  but  the  mind  of  our  dead 
friend  was  constantly  developing.  The  evidence  of  this 
was  his  Boston  speech,  which  in  our  opinion  was  the  best 
ever  delivered  by  him.  No  man  could  foresee  the  possi- 
bilities of  such  a  mind  as  his.  He  had  just  reached  the 
table  land  on  the  mountain  top,  from  which  his  mental 
vision  could  calmly  survey  the  true  situation  of  the  South, 
and  his  listening  countrymen  would  hear  his  inspiring 
admonitions  of  truth,  wisdom  and  patriotism.  Mr.  Grady 
had  firmly  planted  his  feet  on  the  ladder  of  fame.  He  had 
the  genius  of  statesmanship,  and,  had  he  lived,  we  have  no 
doubt  that  he  would  have  measured  up  to  the  full  stature 
of  the  most  gifted  statesmen  whose  names  adorn  the  annals 
of  the  Republic. 

In  speaking  of  the  loss  to  this  section,  we  do  not  wish 
to  indulge  in  the  language  of  exaggeration  when  we  say 
that  the  South  has  lost  her  most  gifted,  eloquent  and  use- 
ful son.  His  death  to  Georgia  is  a  personal  bereavement. 
His  loss  to  the  country  is  a  public  one.  He  loved  Georgia. 
He  loved  the  South.  With  the  ardor  of  a  patriot  he  loved 
his  whole  country,  and  his  last  public  words  touched  the 
patriotic  heart  of  the  people  and  the  responsive  throb  came 
back  from  all  sections  for  a  re-united  people  and  a  restored 
Union. 

Henry  Grady  has  not  lived  in  vain.  He  is  dead,  but  his 
works  will  live  after  him  and  bear  fruits  in  the  field  of 
patriotism. 

There  was  one  thing  about  Henry  Grady.  He  never 
ran  for  office  or  seemed  to  care  for  public  honor.  In  the 
white  heat  of  politics  for  fifteen  years  he  has  been  mostly 
concerned  in  helping  others.  The  young  men  of  the  Slate 
who  have  sought  and  secured  his  aid  in  striving  for  public 
station  are  many.  But  until  last  year  when  his  own  name 
was  mentioned  for  the  national  Senate  he  had  shunned 


542  HENRY    W.    GRADY, 

such  prominence.  At  that  time  it  was  seriously  urged 
against  him  that  he  had  never  served  in  the  Legislature 
and  that  his  training  had  not  been  in  deliberative  bodies. 
But  the  time  was  coming  when  he  must  have  held  high 
public  place.  The  Governor's  chair  or  the  Senator's  toga 
would  have  been  his  in  the  near  future.  His  leadership  in 
practical  matters,  in  great  public  works,  the  impulse  he 
had  given  the  people  in  building  up  the  material  interests 
of  the  South  were  carrying  him  so  rapidly  to  the  front  that 
he  could  not  have  kept  out  of  public  office.  But  his 
position  at  the  time  of  his  death  was  unique.  He  was  a 
power  behind  the  throne,  mightier  than  the  throne  itself. 
He  was  a  Warwick  like  Thurlow  Weed.  Whether  official 
station  could  have  increased  his  usefulness  is  a  question. 
Whether  his  influence  would  have  been  advanced  by  going 
into  politics  was  a  problem  which  he  had  never  settled  in 
his  own  mind.  Already  he  had  a  constituency  greater  than 
that  of  governor  or  senator.  He  spoke  every  week  to  more 
people  than  the  chief  magistrate  of  any  state  in  the  Union. 
He  employed  a  vehicle  of  more  power  than  the  great  seal 
of  the  State.  He  wrote  with  the  pen  of  genius  and  spoke 
the  free  inspiration  of  an  untrammeled  citizen.  He  was 
under  no  obligations  but  duty  and  his  own  will.  He  made 
friends  rather  than  votes  and  his  reward  was  the  love  and 
admiration  of  his  people — a  more  satisfactory  return  than 
the  curule  chair. 

And  so  his  death,  cruel,  untimely  and  crushing,  may 
have  been  a  crown  to  a  noble,  devoted  and  gifted  life. 
His  happiness,  his  influence,  his  reputation  had  little  to 
ask  in  the  turmoil  of  politics.  Its  uncertainties  and  ingrat- 
itudes would  have  bruised  a  guileless,  generous  heart. 
Not  that  he  was  unequal  to  it,  but  because  he  did  not  need 
public  office,  may  we  seek  satisfaction  in  the  fact  that  he 
lived  and  died  a  faithful  worker  and  a  private  citizen.  His 
last  plea  was  for  the  people  of  a  slandered  section — an 
answer  to  the  President  that  "  the  South  was  not  striving 
to  settle  the  negro  problem."  It  was  an  inspiration  and 
wrung  praise  from  friend  and  opponent.  It  cost  him  his 


HIS    LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND    SPEECHES.  643 

life,  but  no  man  ever  gave  up  life  in  nobler  cause.  He 
lived  to  see  his  State  prosperous,  his  reputation  Union- 
wide,  his  name  honored  and  loved,  his  professional  work 
full  of  success,  and  no  man  has  gone  to  the  grave  with 
greater  evidences  of  tenderness  and  respect. 

As  Grady  said  of  Dawson,  so  let  us  say  of  Grady  : 
"God  keep  thee,  comrade;  rest  thy  soul  in  peace,  thou 
golden-hearted  gentleman  ! ' ' 


TRUE  AND  LOYAL. 


From  the  "  Athens  Banner" 

HENRY  GRADY  has  done  as  much  for  his  country  as  any 
man,  be  he  living  or  dead.  He  has  stood  by  his  people 
and  their  institutions,  and  his  pen  and  his  voice  were 
always  heard  in  their  defence.  Henry  Grady  died  as  he 
lived — battling  for  the  good  name  of  the  South,  and  in  de- 
fending his  people  from  the  slander  of  their  enemies.  In 
their  grief  over  the  death  of  this  brilliant  young  journalist 
and  statesman,  his  section  will  shed  as  bitter  tears  as  were 
showered  upon  the  bier  of  Jefferson  Davis.  One  died  full 
of  years  and  honor — the  other  was  cut  down  in  the  prime 
of  manhood,  and  spread  out  before  him  was  the  brightest 
future  ever  vouchsafed  to  man.  His  loss  to  the  South  is 
irreparable.  There  is  no  one  who  can  take  his  place. 

But  the  beautiful  traits  of  Grady' s  character  were  best 
known  to  his  own  people.  He  was  as  true  to  his  friends  as 
is  the  needle  to  the  pole — his  hands  were  ever  open  to  ap- 
peals for  charity — he  was  loyalty  itself — his  heart  was  as 
guileless  as  a  child's  and  as  innocent  as  a  woman's — his 
whole  aim  and  ambition  was  to  do  good,  develop  his  sec- 
tion, and  stand  by  his  people,  and  do  manly  battle  for  their 
good  name  and  their  rights. 


HKXRY    W.    GKAin, 

MR.  GRADY' S  DEATH. 


From  tJie  "  Savannah  Times" 

HENRY  WOODFIN  GRADY,  Georgia's  bright  particular 
genius,  is  dead ! 

A  dread  disease  contracted  in  the  bleak  North  barely  a 
fortnight  ago,  cut  him  down  ere  he  had  hardly  stepped 
across  the  threshold  of  what  promised  to  be  the  most 
remarkable  life  of  its  generation.  Here,  in  his  dearly  loved 
mother  State,  his  brilliant  mind  was  a  source  of  pride  to 
the  whole  people.  Throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of 
the  South,  which  owed  him  incalculably  much,  Henry 
Grady's  name  is  a  household  word.  And  as  no  other 
Southerner,  save  possibly  our  illustrious  Gordon,  he  had 
caught  the  ear,  aye,  and  the  heart  of  hearts  of  the  North- 
ern land.  Yes,  and  beyond  the  seas  his  fame  had  gone, 
and  in  foreign  climes  his  intellect  had  impressed  the  intel- 
lectual. To  the  manner  born,  he  loved  his  State  and  his 
South  with  all  the  ardor  of  the  highest  type  of  patriot. 
His  tongue  was  never  silent  nor  his  inkhorn  dry  when  our 
people  were  aspersed.  He  met  traducers  with  truths  and 
a  glittering  wit  which  were  matchless. 

Grady  was  a  genius  born.  His  work  has  proved  it. 
Ah  !  the  sad  part  of  it  is  that  Death  has  snatched  him  with 
so  much  of  the  grand  mission  which  was  plainly  his  un- 
finished. Nature  seldom  endows  her  children  with  the 
gifts  with  which  she  favored  Grady.  Among  modern  ora- 
tors he  was  the  peer  of  any  and  his  pen  spoke  as  eloquently 
as  his  tongue.  Whether  at  his  desk  or  facing  an  audience, 
his  thoughts  found  expression  in  a  rapid,  graceful,  forcible 
style.  No  man  was  more  entertaining  in  private  life, 
though  it  must  be  confessed  that  Mr.  Grady  had  moments 
when  he  became  so  absorbed  in  his  own  thoughts  that  he 
was  oblivious  to  what  was  passing  around  him,  and  men 
who  knew  him  not  were  apt  to  do  him  an  injustice  in  judg- 
ing him.  His  life  was  devoted  to  Atlanta  and  Georgia, 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  545 

and  to  the  effacing  of  the  sectional  line  which  divided  the 
South  and  the  North.  The  bringing  of  the  people  of  the 
two  sections  into  closer  relations  of  thought  and  industry 
was  a  mission  which  it  did  seem  had  been  especially 
reserved  for  him.  No  man  in  the  North  has  shown  the 
breadth  of  view  which  marked  this  Georgian.  His  last 
public  utterance  attracted  the  attention  of  the  English- 
speaking  world  as  no  other  speech  in  recent  years  has  done 
and,  while  the  applause  was  still  echoing  from  shore  to 
shore  of  this  continent,  he  was  stricken. 

In  his  chosen  profession,  newspaper  work,  Grady  illus- 
trated its  great  possibilities.  What  the  elder  Bennett, 
Thurlow  Weed  and  Greeley  were  to  the  press  of  the  North, 
Grady  was  to  the  press  of  the  South.  Public  honors  were 
undoubtedly  awaiting  him,  and  he  had  but  to  stretch  out 
his  hand. 

A  Roman  emperor's  boast  was  that  he  found  the  Eter- 
nal City  one  of  bricks  and  left  it  one  of  marble.  Henry 
Grady  found  Atlanta  an  unpretentious  town  and  literally 
made  it  the  most  progressive  city  in  the  South. 


A  GREAT  LOSS  TO  GEORGIA. 


From  the  ' '  Columbus  Enquirer- Sun" 

"  HENRY  W.  GRADY  died  at  3:40  o'clock  this  morning." 
Such  was  the  brief  dispatch  received  early  yesterday 
morning  by  the  Enquirer-Sun.  A  simple  announcement 
of  the  death  of  a  private  citizen,  but  of  one  who  had 
endeared  himself  to  the  people  of  his  native  State  and  the 
entire  South,  and  little  wonder  is  it  that  it  should  have 
caused  considerable  sensation  throughout  the  city  and  been 
the  cause  of  numerous  inquiries. 

The  brilliant  Grady  dead  !  He  who  had  just  returned 
from  a  triumphant  ovation  at  the  North  where  he  attracted 
profound  attention  by  the  delivery  of  one  of  the  grandest, 
most  comprehensive  and  magnificent  speeches  on  a  subject 


646  HENRY   W.    GRADY, 

of  vital  importance  to  the  South  and  the  country — cold  in 
the  embrace  of  death.  The  news  was  so  sad  and  unex- 
pected that  it  was  difficult  to  realize,  and  surprise  was 
engulfed  in  one  universal  expression  of  sorrow  and  regret, 
as  the  full  force  of  the  direful  announcement,  ' '  Grady  is 
dead  !  "  was  impressed  on  the  public  mind. 

The  bright,  genial,  brilliant  and  magnetic  Grady  !  The 
fearless,  eloquent  and  talented  young  Georgian  whose  name 
is  synonymous  with  that  of  his  native  State  throughout 
this  broad  land  ;  the  earnest,  industrious,  versatile  and  able 
journalist,  dead  !  Cut  down  in  the  very  prime  of  life  ;  at 
the  very  threshold  of  a  career  which  held  forth  greater 
promise  of  fame  and  honors  than  that  of  any  man  in  the 
State  at  the  present  moment.  This  knowledge  adds  weight 
to  the  grief  that  fills  every  heart  in  Georgia  at  the  thought 
that  Henry  Grady  is  no  more. 

His  death  is  not  only  a  great  loss  to  Atlanta  in  whose 
building  up  he  had  given  the  full  vigor  of  his  great  intel- 
lect and  tireless  energy,  the  State,  whose  devoted  lover  and 
earnest  pleader  he  was,  and  the  South  at  large,  whose  fear- 
less eloquent  champion  he  had  ever  proved  himself  on 
many  memorable  occasions,  but  to  the  country.  No  man 
of  the  present  age  has  done  more  to  bring  about  a  thorough 
understanding  between  the  two  sections  than  Henry  Grady. 
While  there  may  have  been  in  his  two  notable  speeches  at 
New  York  and  Boston  some  declarations  in  which  there 
was  not  universal  coincidence  of  opinion,  either  North  or 
South,  it  is  generally  recognized  that  great  good  has  been 
accomplished  in  giving  the  intelligent  and  fair-minded 
people  of  the  North  a  clearer  and  better  insight  into 
Southern  affairs  and  removing  unjust  prejudices.  The 
people  of  the  South  and  of  Georgia  owe  much  to  Henry 
Grady,  and  will  ever  hold  in  grateful  and  affectionate  re- 
membrance his  good  work  in  their  behalf. 

Georgia  has  not  produced  a  citizen  who,  in  private  sta- 
tion, has  achieved  such  renown,  and  who  has  so  absorbed 
the  affections  of  the  people  as  Henry  W.  Grady.  In  every 
city,  town,  and  hamlet  throughout  the  State,  will  his  death 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  547 

be  mourned,  and  regret,  deep  and  universal,  expressed  that 
the  State  should  be  deprived  of  the  services  of  a  citizen  so 
useful  and  valuable  at  almost  the  very  commencement  of  a 
glorious  and  brilliant  career. 

Grady  was  magnetic,  eloquent,  warm-hearted,  and  im- 
pulsive, and  numbered  his  personal  and  devoted  friends, 
as  he  did  his  admirers,  by  the  thousands.  The  writer  had 
known  him  long  and  intimately,  and  thoroughly  appre- 
ciated his  kindness  of  heart  and  the  strength  of  his  friend- 
ship, and  his  regret  at  the  loss  of  the  State  is  heightened 
by  the  knowledge  of  the  loss  of  a  personal  friend  and  asso- 
ciate. 

The  sincerity  of  the  grief  which  pervades  Georgia  to-day 
is  the  greatest  tribute  that  can  be  paid  to  the  memory  of 
this  peerless  young  Georgian  who,  in  his  peculiar  magnet- 
ism, was  simply  incomparable. 

To  his  beloved  wife  and  children,  and  his  proud,  fond 
mother,  at  this  hour  of  fearful  bereavement  the  heartfelt 
sympathies  of  the  entire  State  are  extended.  May  God  in 
his  infinite  mercy  temper  the  force  of  this  terrible  blow  to 
them,  and  enable  them  to  bow  in  Christian  resignation  to 
His  Divine  will. 


THE  MAN  ELOQUENT. 


From  the  "  Rome  Tribune:' 

IN  the  hush  of  that  dark  hour  which  just  precedes  the 
dawn — in  its  silence  and  darkness,  while  Love  kept  vigil  by 
his  couch  of  pain  and  breathed  sweet  benedictions  on  his 
dying  brow — the  spirit  of  Henry  Grady,  the  South' s 
fame-crowned  son — her  lover  and  her  champion — the  Man 
Eloquent — the  courtly  gentleman — whose  laureled  brow 
while  yet  flushed  with  earth's  triumphs  towered  into  im- 
mortality— the  spirit  of  this  man  of  love  and  might  passed 
from  the  scenes  which  its  radiance  had  illumined  to  the 
loftier  life  of  the  world  beyond. 


548  HENRY   W.    GRADT, 

From  city  to  city  and  hamlet  to  hamlet  the  wires  flashed 
the  sad  intelligence.  Men  paused  and  doubted  as  the  mes- 
sage passed  from  lip  to  lip — paused  with  wet  eyes  and 
wondering,  stricken  hearts. 

The  scholar  closed  his  book  and  reverently  bent  his  head 
in  grief  ;  the  toiler  in  the  sanctum  stayed  his  pen  and  read 
the  message  with  moistened  eyes ;  the  merchant  on  the 
busy  mart  sighed  over  its  fatal  sentences — men,  women, 
little  children,  lifted  up  their  voices  and  wept. 

Our  hearts  can  find  no  words  to  voice  our  grief  for  him. 
And  how  idle  are  all  words  now !  Vainly  we  vaunt  his 
virtues — his  high  nobility  of  soul — his  talents  fine — his 
service  to  the  State,  and  all  the  graces  rare  that  crowned 
his  wondrous  personality.  Vainly,  because  these  are  well 
known  to  men  ;  and  that  great  fame  whose  trumpet  blast 
has  blown  his  name  about  the  world,  has  also  stamped  it 
deeply  upon  grateful,  loving  hearts,  that  rise  up  and  call 
him  blessed. 

We  would  stand  in  silence  in  the  presence  of  a  death 
like  this  ;  for  the  presence  of  the  Lord  is  there,  and  the 
place  is  sacred.  The  hand  of  God  is  in  it :  This  man,  who, 
though  he  had  reached  the  heights,  was  but  upon  the  thres- 
hold of  his  brilliant  career — this  man,  elected  to  a  high  and 
noble  work,  to  whom  we  had  entrusted  the  future  of  the 
South,  and  sent  him  forth  to  fight  her  battles  with  the 
world — in  the  morning  of  his  days,  in  the  midst  of  his 
great  usefulness,  flushed  with  the  triumphs  of  his  last 
and  mightest  effort ;  with  the  applause  of  thousands  ring- 
ing in  his  ear  and  the  "well-done  "  of  his  people  crowning 
all — suddenly,  and  without  warning,  renounces  his  worldly 
honors — lays  down  the  burden  which  he  had  but  taken  up, 
and  sighs  farewell  to  all ! 

We  cannot  understand  it.     The  reality  is  too  much  ! 

We  falter  where  we  firmly  trod, 

And,  falling  with  our  weight  of  cares 

Upon  the  great  world's  altar  stairs 
That  slope  through  darkness  up  to  God, 
We  stretch  blind  hands  of  Faith  that  grope  1 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  54Q 

But  God  reigns,  and  in  the  mystery  of  His  providence 
willeth  all  things  well.  Grady  is  dead.  "He  has  fought 
a  good  fight ;  he  has  finished  his  course ;  he  has  kept  the 
faith  !  "  A  hero,  he  died  at  his  post ;  in  the  full  blaze  of 
his  fame,  with  the  arms  of  the  South  around  him,  he  breathed 
away  his  life  upon  her  breast.  Could  man  desire  more  ? 

The  South  will  miss  him  long  and  sorely.  There  is  no 
man  to  take  his  place  ;  to  do  that  high,  especial  work  which 
he  has  done  so  well.  Aye  !  miss  hirn,  sweet  South,  and 
shed  for  him  your  tenderest  tears  of  love,  for  he  loved  you 
and  gave  himself  for  you — he  laid  down  his  life  for  your 
sake  !  And  you,  ye  sons  and  daughters  of  the  South !  if 
ye  can  see  his  face"  for  weeping,  draw  near  and  look  your 
last !  And  let  the  North  draw  near  and  clasp  strong  hands 
of  sympathy  above  his  bier  ! 

Farewell  to  thee,  comrade !  Knightly  and  noble-hearted 
gentleman — farewell !  The  fight  is  over — the  victory  won, 
and  lo  !  while  yet  we  weep  upon  the  field  deserted,  a  shout 
rings  through  the  portals  of  the  skies  and  welcomes  the 
victor  home  !  And  there,  while  the  lofty  paean  sounds  from 
star  to  star,  thy  peaceful  tent  is  pitched  within  the  verdant 
valleys  of  eternal  rest ! 


DEATH  OF  HENRY  W.  GRADY. 


From  the  "  Savannah  News." 

GEORGIA  mourns  for  one  of  her  most  distinguished  sons. 
Henry  W.  Grady,  who,  a  week  ago  last  Thursday,  held 
entranced,  and  at  times  moved  to  enthusiastic  applause, 
by  his  eloquence,  an  audience  composed  of  Boston's  prom- 
inent citizens,  and  whose  name  on  the  following  day  was 
on  the  lips  of  millions  of  people,  is  cold  in  death  in  his 
Atlanta  home.  He  died  before  he  had  reached  the  meri- 
dian of  life  or  the  zenith  of  his  fame.  His  mind  was  stead- 
ily broadening,  and  he  was  constantly  giving  evidence  of 
the  possession  of  still  greater  ability  than  he  had  yet  dis- 


550  HENRY   W.    GRADY, 

played.  In  his  Boston  speech  he  handled  the  race  ques- 
tion in  a  way  that  showed  that  he  was  not  a  mere  rhetori- 
cian, but  a  genuine  orator,  who  could  direct  the  minds  of 
men  as  well  as  touch  their  hearts  and  dazzle  their  imagina- 
tions. Had  he  lived,  he  would  have  won  a  name  that 
would  have  had  a  permanent  place  in  the  history  of  his 
country.  As  it  is,  he  will  be  remembered  as  a  brilliant 
young  man  whom  death  claimed  before  he  had  time  to 
show  that  he  was  fully  capable  of  meeting  the  expectations 
which  were  entertained  with  regard  to  him. 

Mr.  Grady  was  full  of  resources  and  a  tireless  worker. 
He  entered  the  profession  of  journalism  very  early  in  life, 
and  such  was  the  energy  and  intensity  with  which  he 
devoted  himself  to  it,  that  even  if  he  had  not  possessed 
extraordinary  talents,  he  could  hardly  have  failed  to  suc- 
ceed ;  but,  having  a  special  fitness  for  his  work  and  ability 
of  a  very  high  order,  it  was  not  strange  that  he  quickly 
made  a  reputation  that  was  not  confined  by  the  lines  of 
his  State. 

Mr.  Grady  was  never  satisfied  with  what  he  had  accom- 
plished. He  felt  that  he  was  capable  of  still  better  things, 
and  he  strove  constantly  to  reach  a  higher  mark  of  excel- 
lence. No  sooner  was  he  done  with  one  undertaking  than 
his  busy  brain  was  engaged  with  another ;  and  it  can  be 
said  of  him  that  his  aims  were  not  selfish  ones.  No  doubt 
he  had  the  ambitions  which  every  man  of  marked  ability 
has,  but  the  good  of  others  entered  largely  into  his  thoughts 
and  plans.  Atlanta  owes  to  his  memory  a  debt  she  can 
never  repay.  During  all  the  time  he  was  a  resident  within 
her  limits  he  kept  her  interests  steadily  in  view.  He  con- 
tributed to  her  prosperity  in  a  hundred  ways,  and  when 
her  people  were  lukewarm  in  enterprises  which  he  or  others 
suggested,  he  pointed  out  to  them  their  duty,  and  urged 
them  to  perform  it  so  eloquently  and  strongly  that  they  fell 
into  line  and  won  success  when  many  thought  success  was 
impossible. 

Mr.  Grady  was  not  apparently  anxious  to  accumulate 
wealth.  Money  did  not  remain  with  him  long.  His  purse 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  651 

was  always  open  to  his  friends,  and  those  who  had  claims 
never  had  to  ask  him  twice  for  assistance  when  he  was  able 
to  render  it.  Doubtless  there  are  hundreds  in  Atlanta  who 
are  able  to  speak  from  personal  knowledge  of  his  free- 
handed liberality. 

Mr.  Grady  never  held  public  office.  Had  he  lived,  how- 
ever, it  is  probable  that  he  would  have  entered  the  political 
arena.  He  was  gradually  being  drawn  in  that  direction, 
and  during  the  last  two  or  three  years  his  name  was  fre- 
quently mentioned  in  connection  with  the  offices  of  Senator 
and  Governor.  His  triumphs  were  won  as  a  journalist  and 
an  orator.  In  the  latter  character  he  first  achieved  a 
national  reputation  at  the  dinner  of  the  New  England 
Society  in  1886. 

Georgians  loved  Mr.  Grady  and  were  proud  of  him. 
The  death  of  very  few  other  men  could  have  so  filled  their 
hearts  with  sorrow. 


HENRY  W.  GRADY  DEAD. 


From  the  "Albany  News  and  Advertiser." 

THE  flash  that  announced  over  the  wires  the  death  of 
Henry  W.  Grady  shocked  the  country,  for  it  was  a 
national  calamity. 

It  is  seldom  that  a  people  are  called  upon  in  so  short  a 
space  of  time  to  mourn  the  loss  of  two  such  men  as  Jeffer- 
son Davis  and  Henry  W.  Grady.  The  first  was  a  blow  for 
which  we  were  prepared,  for  like  ripened  grain,  Mr.  Davis 
fell,  full  of  years  and  honor,  before  the  scythe  of  the 
reaper ;  but  the  death  of  Mr.  Grady  comes  to  us  as  a  sor- 
row with  all  the  force  of  a  painful  surprise.  He  was  cut 
down  in  the  bloom  of  a  robust  physical  manhood,  in  the 
full  enjoyment  of  his  magnificent  mental  powers  by  which 
he  had  just  ascended  to  the  very  pinnacle  of  fame.  The 
eyes  of  the  country  were  fixed  upon  him,  the  son  of  the 
South,  whose  transcendant  genius  inspired  the  hope  of  the 
blessed  realization  of  promises  with  which  his  brief  but 


652  ill  XRY   \V.    GRADY, 

brilliant  career  was  so  full.  But  in  the  death  of  this 
illustrious  journalist  and  matchless  orator  the  lesson  is 
enforced  that  "The  path  of  glory  leads  but  to  the  grave." 

Mr.  Grady  grew  up  in  the  refined  atmosphere  of  cul- 
tured Athens,  and  his  mental  nature  treasured  the  classic 
light  of  that  seat  of  learning,  and  it  glowed  with  attrac- 
tive radiance  in  all  of  his  editorial  work.  In  his  death  the 
press  of  the  country  loses  its  brightest  ornament,  and  the 
South  loses  a  champion  without  compare,  whose  pen  was  a 
trenchant  blade  in  fighting  her  battles,  and  a  shield  when 
used  to  defend  her  from  the  hurtling  arrows  of  envy  and 
malice.  His  luminous  pen  made  the  path  of  the  South' s 
progress  glow,  as  with  unflagging  zeal  he  devoted  his  best 
endeavors  to  the  amelioration  of  her  war-ruined  condition. 
.Mr.  Grady,  as  the  representative  of  what  people  are 
pleased  to  call  the  "  New  South,"  but  which  is  the  "  Old 
South"  rehabilitated,  was,  in  the  providence  of  God,  cal- 
culated to  do  for  his  country  what  Hill,  Gordon  and  other 
brilliant  lights  of  the  old  regime  could  never  have  com- 
passed. As  David,  "  the  man  of  war,"  was  not  permitted 
to  build  the  temple,  but  that  glory  was  reserved  for  Solo- 
mon, so  Grady,  the  exponent  of  present  principles,  was 
permitted  to  gather  the  fragments  and  broken  columns  of 
the  South's  ruined  fortunes  and  begin  the  erection  of  a 
temple  of  prosperity  so  grand  in  proportion,  so  symmetri- 
cal in  outline,  as  to  attract,  in  its  incomplete  state,  the 
admiration  of  the  world. 

In  the  extremity  of  our  grief  we  are  apt  to  magnify  our 
loss,  but  this,  indeed,  seems  irreparable,  and  we  can  take 
no  comfort  in  the  assurance  of  the  philosopher  who  codi- 
fied the  experience  of  the  past  into  the  assurance  that 
great  ability  is  always  found  equal  to  the  demand.  On 
whom  will  Grady' s  mantle  fall  \  There  really  seems  to  be 
none  worthy  to  wear  what  he  so  easily  graced.  And  every 
Southern  heart  weighed  down  with  a  sense  of  its  woe  can- 
not but  ask, 

O  death,  why  arm  with  cruelty  thy  power 
To  spare  the  idle  weed  yet  lop  the  flower  ? 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  553 

STILLED  IS  THE  ELOQUENT  TONGUE. 


From  the  ''Brunswick  Times.'" 

HENRY  W.  GRADY  is  dead  ! 

Hushed  forever  is  the  voice  of  the  South'  s  most  wonder- 
ful orator ! 

With  the  laurel  upon  his  brow,  with  the  plaudits  of  a 
nation  ringing  in  his  ears,  with  the  love  of  his  people  freshly 
spoken,  with  a  crown  of  glory  about  him,  the  matchless 
defender  of  the  South  has  passed  from  earth,  and  beyond 
the  silence  of  the  stars  his  soul  dwells  in  the  companionship 
of  the  great  who  have  gone  before. 

With  his  sorrow  fresh  upon  the  South,  this  death  and 
loss  following  so  closely  upon  that  other  in  New  Orleans 
but  a  few  days  ago,  the  heart  is  not  in  keeping  with  the 
brain,  and  not  now  can  the  pen  dipped  only  in  tears  write. 

Henry  Grady  had  not  reached  the  zenith  of  his  fame, 
for  the  circle  was  widening  for  him  and  there  were  still 
brighter  flowers  for  him  to  pluck,  and  in  her  hand  Honor 
held  out  still  richer  prizes.  But  the  mystery  of  death  is 
upon  him,  and  from  his  hand  has  dropped  the  forceful, 
graceful  pen,  and  in  silence  and  peace  he  sleeps  for  the 
grave. 

With  a  superb  intellect,  with  an  eloquence  rivalling 
the  golden-tonged  Chrysostom,  with  a  love  almost  unap- 
proached  by  any  other  for  the  South  and  her  people,  he 
stood  peerless  and  matchless  as  his  land's  defender  and 
leader  in  all  that  made  for  her  peace,  prosperity  and 
happiness. 

But  his  sun  has  set.  It  matters  not  that  in  all  bright- 
ness it  went  down  ;  it  matters  not  that  he  died  full  of 
honors ;  about  that  grave  a  people  will  gather  with  tears 
fast  flowing  and  hearts  crushed  and  bleeding.  It  is  hard 
to  give  up  one  so  grand  of  mind,  so  wonderful  of  tongue, 
so  magnetic  of  personality,  so  richly  endowed  in  all  that 
equips  the  great  leader. 


664  HENRY   W.    GRADY, 

And  such  was  Henry  W.  Grady. 

Atlanta  will  mourn  him,  Georgia  will  weep  for  him,  and 
the  South  will  sorrow  indeed. 

Upon  his  bier  the  Times  lays  this  tribute  and  stands 
reverent  and  uncovered  by  the  grave  of  Georgia's  most 
brilliant  son. 


A  SHINING  CAREER. 


From  the  "  Macon  Telegraph." 

HENRY  GRADY  is  dead.  This  announcement  carried  sor- 
row all  over  Georgia  yesterday,  for  there  were  few  men  in 
whom  the  people  of  this  State  felt  so  much  interest  or  for 
whom  they  cherished  such  a  warm  affection  as  they  did  for 
this  gifted  and  lovable  man.  He  had  not  attained  his 
thirty-ninth  year  when  "God's  finger  touched  him"  and 
closed  his  remarkable  career,  but  his  name  was  familiar 
from  one  limit  of  this  Union  to  the  other.  Georgia  had  no 
more  famous  citizen,  and  perhaps  there  never  was  a  man  in 
this  State  in  private  station  who  was  so  widely  known  or 
so  much  admired.  Mr.  Grady  never  held  a  public  office, 
and  yet  he  was  a  recognized  force  in  Georgia  politics  almost 
before  he  had  reached  the  years  of  statutory  manhood. 
He  devoted  his  life  to  journalism,  and  in  his  chosen  field 
achieved  a  national  fame.  He  began  his  career  as  a  boy 
editor  in  Rome,  and  at  an  age  when  most  men  are  merely 
selecting  their  standards  and  shaping  themselves  for  the  real 
work  of  life,  he  became  a  prominent  and  influential  figure, 
a  leader  of  thought,  and  a  promoter  of  public  enterprises. 
Eighteen  years  ago  he  moved  to  Atlanta  to  pursue  his  pro- 
fession in  a  broader  field,  and  immediately  made  himself 
felt  as  a  positive  force  in  the  community.  The  debt  which 
Atlanta  owes  him  is  great  indeed.  No  man  did  more  to 
inspire  the  pride  of  community,  to  set  on  foot  and  carry  to 
success  great  enterprises  for  the  welfare  and  progress  of  the 
city,  to  rally  its  people  to  an  enthusiastic  unanimity  on  all 


HIS    LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND    SPEECHES.  555 

questions  affecting  local  prosperity  than  did  Henry  W. 
Grady.  These  public  services  would  have  endeared  him  to 
the  people  of  his  adopted  city,  but  they  were  not  so  admir- 
able as  his  private  benefactions.  He  was  first  and  foremost 
in  many  good  works,  the  fame  of  which  never  went  beyond 
the  homes  of  the  poor  and  unfortunate  who  were  relieved 
by  his  ministrations.  His  hand  was  open  always  to  the 
stricken  and  needy.  He  gave  to  the  afflicted  with  a  gen- 
erosity which  was  oblivious  to  his  own  circumstances.  Of 
his  influence  in  promoting  public  enterprises  there  are 
enduring  monuments.  By  his  eloquence  of  tongue  and 
pen  he  raised  in  less  than  two  weeks  $85,000  for  the  erec- 
tion of  the  beautiful  Young  Men's  Christian  Association 
building  which  now  adorns  one  of  the  principal  streets  of 
Atlanta.  He  was  the  moving  spirit  in  the  building  of  the 
Chamber  of  Commerce  and  the  enlargement  of  its  member- 
ship until  it  reached  proportions  that  made  it  a  power  not 
oaly  in  matters  of  business  but  in  all  the  public  concerns 
of  the  city.  The  Confederate  Soldiers'  Home  of  Georgia  is 
a  monument  to  him,  for  he  seized  mere  suggestions  and 
made  them  the  text  of  an  appeal  which  stirred  the  hearts 
of  the  people  of  Georgia  and  evoked  a  long  delayed  tribute 
of  gratitude  to  the  broken  veterans  of  the  lost  cause.  The 
Cotton  Exposition  of  1880  and  the  Piedmont  Expositions 
of  1887  and  1889,  from  which  Atlanta  reaped  immense 
benefits,  were  largely  due  to  his  persistent  labors. 

While  Mr.  Grady  became  prominent  in  Atlanta,  and 
justly  esteemed  by  his  fellow-citizens  on  account  of  works 
and  triumphs  like  these,  he  rose  into  national  prominence 
by  reason  of  other  evidences  of  his  genius.  His  address  to 
the  New  England  Society  in  New  York  in  December,  1886, 
was  one  of  the  most  famous  occasional  speeches  ever  deliv- 
ered in  this  country.  The  morning  after  its  delivery  he 
literally  awoke  to  find  himself  famous  'throughout  the 
country.  Since  that  time  he  made  various  public  addresses 
which  commanded  the  attention  of  the  United  States  and 
became  subjects  of  common  conversation  among  the  people. 
His  speech  at  the  Dallas  Exposition  last  year  and  his 


556  IIKXKY    W.    GRADY, 

address  to  the  legislatures  of  Georgia  and  South  Carolina 
at  the  Augusta  Exposition  a  few  weeks  later,  were  themes 
of  the  public  press  of  the  entire  country.  But  the  best 
and  ablest  public  speech  of  his  life  was  his  last.  It  was 
that  which  he  delivered  two  weeks  ago  at  Boston  in  the 
performance  of  a  mission  which  proved  fatal  to  him.  In 
this,  as  in  all  his  famous  public  addresses,  he  seemed  to 
strive  with  a  passionate  ardor  and  a  most  persuasive  elo- 
quence to  bring  the  North  and  the  South  to  a  better  under- 
standing of  each  other,  to  foster  the  spirit  of  mutual 
respect  and  mutual  forbearance,  to  inculcate  the  great 
idea  that  this  is  a  re-united  country  and  that  the  duty  of 
every  good  citizen  in  its  every  section  is  to  strive  for  its 
domestic  peace,  for  its  moral,  social  and  material  progress, 
and  for  its  glory  among  the  nations  of  the  earth.  He 
handled  these  great  themes  with  a  master  hand  and  in- 
vested his  exposition  of  them  with  a  most  fascinating  elo- 
quence. Few  men  in  Georgia  ever  accomplished  so  much 
in  so  few  years.  Few  men  in  Georgia  were  ever  the  object 
of  such  affection  at  home  and  such  admiration  beyond  the 
bounds  of  the  State.  The  career  which  has  been  so  sud- 
denly cut  off  was  shining  with  golden  promise.  The  future 
seemed  to  be  full  of  honors  and  there  was  everything  sur- 
rounding the  present  that  could  make  life  sweet.  But  the 
end  has  come.  The  most  eloquent  tongue  in  Georgia  has 
been  smitten  into  everlasting  silence  in  this  world.  A 
great,  generous  heart  has  been  stilled. 

A  useful  citizen,  after  a  brief  but  busy  and  momentous 
life,  which  was  productive  of  many  enterprises  of  public 
importance  and  beneficient  tendency,  has  folded  his  hands 
in  the  eternal  rest.  God's  peace  be  with  him  ! 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  •         Cf)7 

THE  GREATEST  CALAMITY. 


From  the  "Augusta  News" 

CAN  it  be  possible  ?  Can  it  be  that  the  brightest  star  in 
the  galaxy  of  our  great  luminaries  is  blotted  out  and 
stricken  from  its  orbit  just  as  it  was  rising  in  full  can -IT 
to  the  zenith  of  usefulness,  influence  and  splendor  ?  Can 
it  be  that  the  most  brilliant  meteor  which  has  flashed 
across  our  sky  for  a  generation  has  fallen  to  earth  literally 
burned  to  ashes  by  its  own  fiery  contact  with  the  grosser 
air  and  elements  of  the  natural  world  ?  Can  it  be  that  the 
light  has  gone  out  of  the  most  magnetic  mind  and  the 
spirit  gone  from  the  most  resistless  personality  in  this  sov- 
ereign State  ?  Can  it  be  that  the  South  has  lost  the  man 
who  has  been  first  and  foremost  in  representing  its  real  and 
progressive  needs  and  issues,  and  who  has  done  more  for 
this  section  than  all  the  young  men  of  his  day  combined  1 
Can  it  be  that  the  kindly  heart  has  ceased  to  beat  which 
throbbed  in  love  first  for  a  devoted  family,  and  next  and 
always  for  his  native  State  ? 

Even  so,  for  while  still  the  shadows  of  the  night  hung 
in  mournful  pall  about  his  home  and  dawn  lingered  as  if 
loth  to  look  upon  the  lifeless  form  of  one  whom  all  his 
people  loved,  his  spirit  soared  away  to  greet  the  dawning 
of  an  eternal  day  and  the  mortal  part  of  Henry  Woodfin 
Grady  lay  cold  in  death. 

Dead,  did  we  say?  Was  ever  the  coming  of  Death's 
angel  more  untimely  ?  So  it  seems  to  us,  with  our  poor 
mortal  vision,  but  there  is  an  eye  above,  all-seeing ;  a 
Providence,  all-timely;  a  Power,  almighty;  and  to  His 
will  we  bow  this  day.  In  His  sight  the  stricken  star  is  not 
blotted  out  but  borne  aloft  to  a  brighter  realm.  In  His 
providence  the  brilliant  meteor  of  a  day  is  not  fallen,  but 
simply  shorn  of  all  its  dross  and  burnished  in  beauty  and 
splendor  for  its  flight  through  all  the  ages.  In  His  power 
the  spark  which  no  longer  animates  the  mortal  man  glows 
again  in  glory  and  sends  a  ray  of  loving  light  from  Heaven 


558  HENRY    W.   GRADY, 

to  clieer  and  console  the  broken  hearts  on  earth,  and  re- 
mind us  that  his  influence  and  work  are  not  lost,  but  will 
live  and  bear  blessed  fruit  for  generations  yet  to  come. 

Henry  Grady  has  gone  from  earth  ere  yet  the  dew  of 
youth  has  been  drunk  up  by  the  midday  sun  of  maturity, 
but  in  the  brief  span  of  life  allotted  to  him  what  a  world  of 
work  he  has  done,  and  what  a  name  he  made  for  himself  ! 
Not  two-score  years  had  passed  over  his  head,  and  yet  he 
had  attained  all  the  substantial  success  and  honor  which 
mortal  man  might  wish.  He  was  not  only  loved  all  over 
Georgia,  but  he  was  famous  all  over  the  country,  and  no 
public  occasion  of  national  import  was  deemed  complete 
\\ithout  his  presence  and  his  eloquent  voice.  He  was  a 
magician  in  his  mastery  of  men,  and  the  witchery  of  his 
voice  was  enchantment  to  any  audience  in  any  section. 
He  was  coming  to  be  regarded  as  the  representative  of  the 
whole  South  in  the  editor's  chair  and  on  the  rostrum,  and  it 
is  truly  said  of  him  that  he  has  done  more  for  the  material 
advancement  of  this  section  than  any  other  man  for  the 
past  fifteen  years.  His  death  is  the  greatest  calamity 
which  has  befallen  the  South  since  the  late  war,  and  Israel 
may  indeed  mourn  this  day  as  for  her  first  born. 

The  name  of  Henry  W.  Grady  will  not  be  forgotten,  for 
it  will  live  in  the  affectionate  regard  of  Georgians  and  grow 
greater  in  the  good  results  which  will  follow  his  life  work. 
The  fact  that  he  literally  died  in  the  service  of  the  South, 
as  a  result  of  cold  contracted  just  after  the  impassioned 
delivery  of  his  recent  grand  oration  in  Boston,  will  bind  his 
name  and  memory  nearer  and  dearer  to  Southern  hearts  ; 
for  to  warrior  or  hero  was  never  given  a  better  time  or  a 
nobler  way  to  die  than  to  the  man  who  gave  his  voice,  his 
heart,  his  reputation  and  his  life  to  healing  the  wounds  of 
a  fratricidal  war,  and  to  the  harmonious  building  up  of  his 
own  beloved  South  as  the  fairest  and  richest  domain  of  our 
common  country. 

God  bless  his  name  and  his  memory,  and  be  a  strong  and 
abiding  support  to  his  broken-hearted  widow  and  house- 
hold this  day ! 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  559 

NO  ORDINARY  GRIEF. 


From  the  "  Columbus  Ledger." 

A  GREAT  loss  has  befallen  the  South  in  the  death  of 
Henry  W.  Grady,  and  deep  sorrow  rests  upon  the  hearts 
of  her  people. 

He  was  no  ordinary  man,  and  his  death  calls  forth  no 
ordinary  grief.  Brilliant  in  intellect,  strong  in  his  convic- 
tions, untiring  in  his  efforts  to  promote  the  welfare  of  his 
country,  genial,  courteous,  kind-hearted,  ever  ready  to 
help  the  unfortunate,  the  loss  of  such  a  man  cannot  be 
estimated.  When  results  were  to  be  achieved,  when  en- 
couragement was  needed,  his  eloquent  tongue,  his  ready 
pen,  his  helping  hand  were  used  with  telling  effect.  His 
creed  was  to  build  up  and  not  to  tear  down  ;  to  encourage 
and  not  to  discourage  ;  to  help  and  not  to  hurt.  His  efforts 
were  ever  directed  to  the  promotion  of  his  State  and  the 
South,  and  no  other  man  has  accomplished  so  much  for 
them  as  he.  His  last  effort  was  for  his  country  and  his 
people,  and  the  good  which  will  result  from  his  eloquent 
speech  at  Boston,  will  be  a  lasting  monument.  It  would 
have  been  impossible  for  any  man  to  have  attained  to  Mr. 
Grady' s  position  without  coming  into  contact  with  those 
who  disagreed  with  him  on  many  points,  but  even  these 
acknowledged  his  greatness.  To  read  of  him  was  to  admire 
him  ;  to  know  him  was  to  love  him.  In  the  midst  of  our 
sorrow  let  us  thank  God  that  He  lends  to  earth  such  men. 


A  PLACE  HARD  TO  FILL. 


From  the  "  Griffin  Neivs." 

HENRY  W.  GRADY  died  at  his  home  in  Atlanta  late 
Sunday  night  of  pneumonia,  contracted  during  his  recent 
trip  North.  His  illness  was  very  short  and  his  untimely 


JIKXUY    \V.    GKADY, 

death  is  a  shock  not  only  to  his  many  friends  and  admirers, 
but  to  the  whole  State  in  which  lit-  was  so  well  known,  and 
will  be  received  with  regret  outside  its  borders.  He  \\  • 
beautiful  writer  and  a  brilliant  orator,  as  well  as  a  promi- 
nent factor  in  the  development  of  Atlanta.  He  will  be 
trn-atly  missed  in  that  city,  and  his  place  in  the  Constitu- 
tion, of  which  he  was  easily  the  head,  will  be  hard  to  till. 
Peace  to  his  ashes. 


"JUST  HUMAN." 


From  the  "  Thomasville  Enterprise" 

THACKERAY,  the  greatest  of  English  novelists,  in  the 
concluding  words  of  Pendennis,  says:  "I  have  not 
painted  a  hero,  only  a  man  and  a  brother."  When  Henry 
W.  Grady  made  his  first  appearance  before  the  public  as  a 
lecturer,  his  subject  was  the  words  that  begin  this  article — 
"Just  Human."  This  was  years  ago,  when  he  was  only 
known  to  the  world  as  a  brilliant  young  journalist,  and 
even  then  his  fame  for  quick  perception,  incisive  utterance 
and  felicitous  manner,  was  only  begun.  Later  years  added 
to  that  fame,  and  with  each  year,  there  seemed  to  come  to 
him  a  wider  range  of  ideas,  and  a  bolder  conception  of  the 
most  effectual  way  to  put  those  ideas  into  burning,  glowing 
language. 

After  he  had  made  his  memorable  speech  before  the 
New  England  Society  in  New  York,  each  succeeding  one 
only  raised  him  higher  in  public  esteem  as  a  matchless,  a 
magnetic  orator,  who  could  wield  human  hearts  as  he 
would.  Through  all  these  speeches,  and  in  all  that  he  ever 
wrote,  there  lingers,  like  a  sweet  incense,  this  thought, 
that  he  recognized  that  men  were  "Just  Human."  and 
entitled  to  all  that  charity  could  offer  in  extenuation  of 
their  faults. 

There  is  not  a  heart  in  all  the  world  that  has  received 
one  pang  from  aught  that  Henry  Grady  ever  wrote  or  said  ; 


HIS    I.IFK,    \VKITI  N(.s.     AND    SPEECH!.-. 

his  utterances,  whether  from  the  rostrum  or  through  the 
columns  of  his  paper,  always  tended  to  make  the  world 
better,  and  liis  ambition  seemed  to  be  to  smooth  auay  the 
differences  that  annoy,  and  tin*  bitternesses  that  gall. 
There  is  no  man  in  all  the  country  that  can  take  up  his 
work  where  he  left  it. 

Where  can  we  find  the  same  impassioned  eloquence  that 
swayed,  despite  its  force,  as  gently  as  the  summer  breezes 
that  come  across  fields  of  ripe  grain  ? 

Where  can  we  find  the  same  acute  feeling  for  the  sor- 
rows and  sufferings  of  men  and  women,  "Just  Human," 
the  same  sweet  pleading  for  their  extenuation  or  their 
amelioration  ? 

When  the  epitaph  over  his  grave  comes  to  be  written, 
no  better  rendering  of  the  true  greatness  of  the  departed 
could  be  made  than  is  contained  in  the  suggestive  name  of 
his  first  lecture,  "Just  Human,"  for  the  noble  instinct  that 
taught  him  to  plead  so  eloquently  for  the  failings  of  his 
fellow  men,  taught  him  to  enter  the  Divine  presence,  ask- 
ing for  himself  that  mercy  he  had  asked  for  others. 


GEORGIA  WEEPS. 


From  the  "  Union  News." 

HON.  HENRY  W.  GRADY,  of  the  Constitution,  died  at 
his  home  in  Atlanta  this  morning  at  3:40. 

This  cruel  blow  shivers  every  heart  with  agony,  even  as 
the  thunderbolt  of  heaven  rends  the  mighty  monarch  of  the 
forest. 

His  death  is  a  loss  to  Georgia.  Every  man  feels  it  as  a 
personal  bereavement.  He  has  done  more  for  the  material 
development  of  the  State  than  any  other  one  man  in  it. 
He  was  an  enthusiast  in  the  cause  of  education,  an  upholder 
of  the  church,  an  advocate  of  industrial  training,  a  pro- 
moter of  every  enterprise  calculated  to  benefit  Georgia  and 


562  HI;M:V   w.  UKADY, 

her  people.  He  was  a  friend  to  humanity,  true  to  liiiust-ir, 
to  his  country  :m<l  to  his  Uod. 

The  most  brilliant  light  in  Southern  journalism  is  veiled 
in  darkness — a  manly  heart  ha»  o-a-'-d  to  beat ;  the  tongue 
that  has  electrified  thousand*;  \\itli  ma^ic  eloquence  is  silent 
forever;  the  fingers  that  wielded  the  pen  of  genius  and 
never  traced  a  line  in  bitterness  or  malice,  but  was  always 
uplifted  in  behalf  of  charity,  love  and  good  will,  in  behalf 
of  progress,  industry  and  enterprise,  in  behalf  of  the  South 
and  her  institutions,  his  State  and  her  people,  are  cold  in 
death  ;  the  once  warm  hand  of  benevolence  and  fraternal 
greeting  is  chilled  forever ;  a  golden  life  is  ended,  but  his 
works  live  after  him,  as  a  priceless  heritage  to  his  State,  a 
boon  to  his  people.  The  influence  of  his  example  pervades 
the  State  as  a  delightful  aroma. 

The  dispensations  of  Providence  are  mysterious.  It  is 
strange  fate,  past  all  human  understanding,  why  so  excel- 
lent a  spirit,  a  man  of  so  much  influence,  should  be  cut 
down  in  the  glory  of  his  life,  in  the  richest  prime  of  his 
royal  manhood. 

Only  a  few  days  ago  he  stood  in  a  blaze  of  glory  in  a 
Northern  city  and  electrified  thousands  by  his  matchless 
oratory,  in  the  presentation  of  a  question  that  did  the 
South  great  good  and  justice,  and  did  much  to  soften  the 
animosities  of  the  North  toward  the  South,  and  establish 
more  fraternal  relations  between  the  two  sections.  But 
even  while  the  plaudits  of  the  admiring  multitude  were 
ringing  in  his  ears,  and  the  press  of  the  country  was  sing- 
ing his  praises,  the  fatal  hand  of  disease  was  laid  upon  him, 
and  he  was  brought  back  to  his  own  sunny  and  belo\«-d 
Southland  to  die. 

Mr.  Grady  was  a  popular  idol.  'He  was  destined  to 
reap  the  highest  political  honors  in  the  State.  His  name 
was  being  prominently  mentioned  in  connection  with  the 
Governorship  and  Senatorship  of  Georgia.  Democrat  it- 
leaders  sought  his  favor.  Ilis  influence  was  felt  through- 
out the  entire  State.  His  support  was  an  omen  of  success. 

Ben  Hill  died,  and  his  place  has  never  been  supplied  in 


HIS    LIFK,     WRITINGS,    AM)    Sl'KKCHES.  663 

Georgia.  Mr.  Grady  approached  nearer  to  it  than  any 
other  man.  Now  Mr.  (Jrady  is  p>nc,  and  his  duplicate 
cannot  be  found  in  the  State.  No  man  in  recent  years  could 
so  attract  the  eye  and  fasten  the  attention  of  the  North. 
Tin-  death  of  no  other  Georgian  at  this  time  would  have 
been  so  calamitous. 

The  star  was  rapidly  hastening  to  the  zenith  of  its 
brilliancy  and  greatest  magnitude  when  suddenly  it  went 
out  in  darkness,  but  across  the  industrial  and  political 
firmament  of  the  country  it  has  left  an  effulgent  track 
whose  reflection  illumines  the  world. 


A  GRAND  MISSION. 


From  the  "West  Point  Press." 

So  much  has  been  said  about  the  lamented  Grady  that 
we  may  not  be  able  to  offer  anything  new.  But  as  we  feel 
that  his  untimely  death  is  an  irreparable  loss  we  must  offer 
our  heartfelt  tribute. 

He  was  the  most  unselfish  slave  to  friends,  and  to  duty. 
As  an  editor  he  was  brilliant  and  at  all  times  as  fearless  as 
a  Spartan  ;  as  an  orator,  age  considered,  he  stood  without  a 
peer  within  the  broad  realm  of  his  native  land,  and  although 
but  in  the  full  vigor  ^of  manhood  he  has  left  upon  record 
speeches  that  compare  favorably  with  the  master  efforts  of 
f'alhoun  and  Webster.  As  a  companion  he  was  genial, 
iovial  and  untiring  in  his  efforts  to  entertain  ;  as  a  friend 
there  was  no  bound  to  his  fidelity. 

If  you  would  know  the  beauty  and  grandeur  of  Henry 
Grady's  character,  go  and  learn  it  at  the  homes  of  poverty 
where  he  delighted  to  turn  in  the  light,  by  his  many  offices 
of  love  and  charity.  If  yon  would  know  the  kindness  of 
his  generous  heart  go  to  those  whom  lie  has  lifted  from  the 
vale  of  poverty  and  given  encouragement  to  look  up.  Ask 
the  army  of  newsboys  for  a  chapter  upon  the  life  of  Henry 


504  HK.NKY     \V.    (iKADY, 

Grady  and  you  will  hear  words  to  convince  you  that  a 
philanthropist  has  been  called  hence.  It  seemed  to  us  the 
other  day  while  in  Atlanta,  as  they  said  "  Paper,  sir,"  that 
there  was  a  sadness  ill  the  tone,  and  that  a  great  sorrow 
was  upon  their  hearts.  Yes,  those  newsboys  miss  Henry 
Grady,  for  he  was  their  friend  and  protector.  Words  of 
eulogy  cannot  restore  those  who  cross  the  dark  river  ;  if 
they  could  there  has  been  enough  said  to  recall  Henry 
Grady  to  the  high  position  he  honored  by  a  life  of  unsel- 
fishness. His  mission,  only  begun,  was  a  grand  one,  and 
we  trust  his  mantle  may  fall  upon  some  one  who  will  carry 
on  his  work. 


THE  SOUTH  LOVED  HIM. 


From  the  "  Darien  Timber  Gazette."1 

SELDOM  has  the  nation's  heart  been  so  saddened  as  by 
the  news  of  Henry  W.  Grady' s  death.  Henry  W.  Grady, 
although  comparatively  young,  has  conquered  this  vast 
continent — east  and  west,  north  and  south— and  his  many 
victories  have  been  bloodless.  He  has  truly  demonstrated 
that  the  pen  is  mightier  than  the  sword.  An  intellect 
exceptionally  brilliant,  an  indomitable  courage,  a  judgment 
keen,  clear  and  cool,  a  character  unspotted  and  unassail- 
able— these  are  the  weapons  with  which  Henry  W.  Grady 
captured  the  nation. 

The  South  loves  him  for  his  unflinching  devotion  to  its 
interests ;  the  North  admires  him  for  the  conservatism 
which  always  characterized  his  political  actions.  The 
brilliancy  of  his  intellect  all  admit.  We  venture  to  say 
that  there  lives  not  a  man  in  the  United  States  to-day  whose 
death  would  be  more  sincerely  or  more  universally  mourned. 

That  a  career  so  unusually  promising  should  have  been 
so  suddenly  cut  off  is  sad  indeed — sad  especially  for  the 
South,  whose  claims  he  so  ably  advocated  and  so  success- 
fully furthured.  The  severing  of  the  still  more  tender  ties 


HIS    LIFE,    WRITINGS,     AND     SPEECH Ks.  g(J5 

between  wife  and  husband,  mother  and  son,  while  in  the 
youth  of  his  glory,  adds  another  gloomy  chapter  to  the 
death  of  Southland's  most  patriotic  and  brilliant  son. 
Millions  will  bow  their  heads  in  grief  with  the  loving  wife 
and  devoted  mother. 

We  read  and  re-read  the  words  of  Henry  W.  Grady's 
last  speech  with  a  strange  fascination.  They  are  like  the 
last  notes  of  the  dying  swan  and  will  doubtless  have  much 
more  weight  under  the  sad  circumstances.  He  has  literally 
laid  down  his  life  that  the  colored  man  might  enjoy  his  in 
peace  and  prosperity. 


NO  SADDER  NEWS. 


From  the  "Marietta  Journal." 

No  sadder  news  ever  fell  upon  the  ears  of  this  people 
than  the  announcement  that  "  Henry  Grady  is  dead  !  "  It 
staggered  our  people  like  a  bolt  of  lightning  from  a  clear 
sky. 

His  death  took  place  at  the  family  residence  in  Atlanta 
at  3:40  o'clock  Monday  morning,  December  22.  While  on 
a  visit  to  Boston,  where  he  delivered  the  grandest  speech 
of  his  life,  he  took  cold,  and  being  ill  before  he  left  home, 
he  was  prostrated  on  his  return  home,  his  sickness  culmi- 
nating in  pneumonia  and  death.  He  was  thirty-eight  years 
old  at  the  time  of  his  death,  and  no  private  citizen  at  that 
age  ever  attained  the  renown  that  Grady  had.  As  an  ora- 
tor and  journalist  he  was  without  a  peer  ;  gifted  above  his 
fellows  to  sway  men  by  his  pen  or  his  voice,  he  won  the 
applause  and  admiration  and  love  of  his  countrymen 
wherever  he  came  in  contact  with  them.  His  young  life 
and  genius  had  been  devoted  to  deeds  of  kindness, 
peace,  unity  and  charity.  Selfishness  did  not  enter  his 
heart,  that  always  beat  in  response  to  the  woes  and  suffer- 
ings of  his  fellow  men. 

There  was  a  charm  and  sparkle  about  his  writings  that 


HENRY    W.    GKADY, 

never  failed  to  captivate  the  senses,  please  and  entertain. 
The  South  lost  one  of  her  briuht'-st  minds  and  stanchest 
champions  in  the  death  of  Henry  Grady.  There  is  no  man 
that  can  take  his  place  in  the  rare  gifts  that  so  befittingly 
endowed  him  in  the  grand  work  in  which  lie  was  engaged. 
His  loss  is  an  irreparable  one.  Sorrow  and  gloom  pervade 
the  hearts  of  our  people  over  this  sad  event.  We  may  not 
understand  how  one  so  superbly  gifted,  with  capacities  for 
the  accomplishment  of  so  much  good  in  the  world,  is  taken, 
and  many  who  cumber  the  earth  and  are  stumbling  blocks, 
are  left,  but  we  know  the  hand  of  Providence  is  behind  it 
all,  and  He  is  too  wise  to  err,  too  good  to  be  unkind. 

Grand  and  noble  Grady,  we  mourn  your  death  ;  but  we 
know  a  soul  so  radiant  with  love  for  humanity,  is  now  at 
rest  with  the  redeemed. 


GEORGIA'S  NOBLE  SON. 


From  the  "Madison  Advertiser" 

IN  view  of  the  innumerable,  heartfelt  and  touching 
memorials  to  this  gifted  child  of  genius,  anything  that  we 
might  add  would  be  as  Hyperion  to  a  Satyr.  But  moved 
by  a  feeling  of  profound  grief  at  our's  and  the  Nation's 
loss,  we  claim  the  privilege  of  giving,  as  humble  members 
of  the  craft,  expression  to  our  high  regard  for  the  character 
of  Georgia's  noble  son,  and  mingle  a  tear  with  those  of 
the  entire  country  upon  the  grave  of  a  great  and  good 
man. 

In  early  life  he  manifested  a  ripeness  and  decision  of 
purpose  in  selecting  a  calling  for  which  he  conceived  he 
had  an  aptitude.  Nor  was  his  judgment  erroneous,  for, 
with  rare  genius,  coupled  with  energy  and  untiring  appli- 
cation, he  soon  found  a  place  amongst  the  first  journalists 
of  the  country.  How,  with  his  gifted  pen,  he  convinced 
the  judgment,  moved  the  emotions  and  sympathies,  inspired 


HIS   LIFK,    WHITINGS.     AM)    SPEECHES. 

to  lofty  resolve  and  the  cultivation  of  gentle  kindness,  none 
knew  better  than  his  constant  readers. 

Perhaps  no  character  in  Georgia,  we  may  say  in  the 
South,  was  possessed  of  such  varied,  versatile  talent.  Pro- 
fuse in  rhetorical  attainments,  gifted  in  oratory,  profound 
in  thought,  facile  and  versatile  as  a  writer,  an  encyclo- 
paedia of  statistics,  he  presented  a  combination  amounting 
to  an  anomaly.  Coming  upon  the  stage  of  action  at  a 
period  when  the  crown  was  torn  from  our  Southland  and 
she  bent  beneath  the  cross,  when  the  gore  of  his  patriot 
father,  poured  out  on  the  fields  of  Virginia,  was  still  red 
before  his  vision  and  calling  as  it  were  for  vengeance,  he 
remembered  the  vow  of  the  greatest  Captain  of  the  age, 
taken  at  Appomatox,  the  injunction  of  our  recently 
departed  Chieftain,  and  set  his  noble  brain,  gifted  pen  and 
silver  tongue  to  the  herculean  task  of  extinguishing  the 
embers  of  sectional  hate ;  to  a  recognition  of  the  rights, 
and  adjustment  of  the  wrongs  of  his  beloved  South,  and 
the  rehabilitating  of  the  great  American  nation,  under  the 
aegis  of  constitutional  equality. 

His  strong  and  graceful  effusions  in  the  Atlanta  Con- 
stitution had  attracted  universal  attention,  and  put  men 
everywhere  to  thinking.  Blended  with  so  much  of  genial 
kindness  and  courtesy,  while  abating  nothing  of  truth  or 
right,  they  won  commendation,  even  from  unwilling  ears. 
Nor  were  they  confined  to  one  theme.  Every  work  of 
industry,  labor,  love  or  charity  found  in  him  a  potent  advo- 
cate, convincing  by  his  logic,  and  persuading  by  his  gentle, 
finished  rhetoric.  As  a  journalist,  among  the  craft  and 
the  world  of  readers,  he  was  recognized  as  without  a  supe- 
rior, scarcely  with  a  peer. 

But  burning  with  a  grand,  great  purpose,  he  felt  with 
the  inspiration  of  true  greatness,  that  there  was  work  for 
his  tongue,  as  well  as  pen.  With  a  penetrating  judg- 
ment, he  felt  that  the  territory  of  those  misguided  and 
uninformed  as  to  the  condition  and  burdens  of  his  beloved 
South  must  be  invaded,  and  the  ear  of  those  who  read  but 
little  or  nothing  of  her  grievances  must  be  reached.  Unex- 


568  HENRY   W.    ORADY, 

pectedly  an  opportunity  was  opened  up  for  him,  and  he 
appeared  before  a  cultivated  audience  in  the  great  metrop- 
olis, New  York. 

To  say  that  wonder,  admiration  and  conviction  was  the 
result  of  his  grand  effort  on  that  occasion,  would  be  to  put 
it  mildly.  Never,  since  the  surrender,  have  any  utterances, 
from  any  source,  commanded,  up  to  that  time,  so  much 
attention  and  attracted  so  much  careful  and  unprejudiced 
consideration  of  the  situation  of  the  South.  From  the 
position  of  an  accomplished  journalist,  he  bloomed  out 
into  a  grand  orator.  His  name  and  his  grand  effort  was  on 
every  tongue,  and  every  true  Georgian  thanked  God  that  a 
David  had  arisen  to  battle  her  cause. 

So  profound  was  the  impression  made  upon  the  North- 
ern mind  of  the  justice,  truth  and  temperance  of  Mr. 
Grady's  position,  that  he  was  called  to  Boston,  the  cradle 
of  Phillips,  Garrison  and  all  isms,  to  discuss  the  race 
question.  Had  his  people  been  admonished  of  the  con- 
sequences to  him  physically,  they  would  have  felt  as  did 
others  in  reference  to  the  sweet  singer  of  Israel — better  ten 
thousand  perish  than  he  be  endangered.  Intent  upon 
what  he  believed  his  great  mission,  he  responded.  What 
that  grand  effort  was  is  fresh  in  the  minds  of  all.  Its 
influence  upon  this  Nation,  time  alone  will  disclose. 

Grand  as  was  Mr.  Grady  as  a  writer,  thinker  and 
orator,  his  greatness  culminated  in  the  bigness  of  his 
heart.  He  might  truthfully  be  called  (as  he  styled  the 
late  Dawson)  "the  Golden-hearted  man."  His  pen, 
tongue,  hand  and  purse  were  ever  open  to  all  the  calls  of 
distress  or  want,  and  every  charitable  movement  found  no 
more  effective  champion  than  in  him.  A  striking  recent 
incident  is  narrated  of  him  illustrative  of  this  his  noble 
characteristic.  Taking  two  tattered  strangers  into  a  store, 
he  directed  the  proprietor  to  furnish  each  with  a  suit  of 
clothes.  The  proprietor,  his  close  personal  friend,  remon- 
strated with  him  for  his  prodigality,  saying,  "  You  are 
not  able  to  so  do."  He  replied,  "I  know  it,  but  are  they 
not  human  beings?"  Grand  man.  Surely  he  has  won 


HIS    Lll'K,     \VKITI.\<;s,    AND    SPEECH KS.  569 

the  crown  bestowed  upon  the  peacemaker  and  the  cheerful 
giver.  Mystt -rious  are  the  ways  of  the  Great  Ruler. 
Little  did  his  exulting  friends  think  that  he  would  be  so 
soon  summoned  from  the  field  of  his  glory  and  usefulness 
to  the  grave.  Man  proposes,  God  disposes,  and  Grady 
sleeps  the  long  sleep,  but  "tho'  dead  he  yet  speaketh." 
Alone,  aided  by  none  save  perhaps  the  gifted,  battle- 
scarred,  faithful  Gordon,  he  gave  up  his  life  to  enforcing 
the  obligation  of  Lee,  the  injunctions  of  the  lamented 
Davis.  With  a  brave  spirit  and  a  heart  of  love,  he  would 
speak  words  of  forgiveness  to  his  wrong-doers,  if  any, 
while  others  less  tolerant  might  say  to  them,  "An  eagle  in 
his  towering  flight  was  hawked  at  by  a  mousing  owl." 
But  with  indorsement  from  such  as  Cleveland,  Hill,  Camp- 
bell and  a  host  of  others,  he  needs  no  apology  from  us. 
Peacefully  he  has  crossed  over  the  river,  and  under  the 
perennial  shade  of  the  leal  land  he  sits  with  Davis  and 
Lee  and  receives  their  plaudits  for  his  faithful,  patriotic 
efforts. 


THE  DEATH  OF  HENRY  GRADY. 


From  the  "  Haivkinsville  Dispatch." 

HENRY  W.  GRADY  died  at  his  home  in  Atlanta,  at  3:40 
o'clock,  on  the  morning  of  the  28d  ult. 

This  announcement  has  already  been  flashed  all  over 
the  United  States,  and  has  carried  genuine  sorrow  through- 
out Georgia  and  many  places  beyond.  The  fame  and  the 
popularity  of  this  brilliant  young  orator  and  writer  were 
not  confined  to  this  State,  but  were  almost  co-extensive 
with  the  limits  of  the  Union. 

Mr.  Grady  was  in  Boston  a  week  or  two  before  his  death 
to  make  an  address,  by  invitation  of  the  Merchants'  Club 
of  that  city.  The  address  was  on  "  The  Negro  Problem," 
and  it  attracted  attention  throughout  the  United  States. 
He  was  not  well  when  he  left  Atlanta,  and  his  departure 


f>7<)  IIKXRY    W.    GRADY, 

was  contrary  to  the  advice  of  his  physician.  Immediately 
after  the  address,  he  went  to  New  York,  and  while  there 
he  had  to  take  his  bed.  He  was  compelled  to  decline  nil 
the  honors  tendered  him,  and  hastened  home.  The  citizens 
of  Atlanta  had  arranged  a  complimentary  reception  for  his 
return,  but  he  was  taken  from  the  car  into  a  carriage  and 
carried  to  his  home.  He  never  left  that  home  until  he  was 
carried  out  in  his  coffin. 

His  funeral  took  place  on  Wednesday  of  last  week.  It 
was  probably  the  largest  that  has  ever  been  seen  in  Atlanta, 
for  Mr.  Grady  was  nearer  and  dearer  to  the  popular  heart 
than  any  other  man.  The  body  was  carried  to  the  First 
Methodist  church,  where  it  lay  in  state  several  hours. 
Thousands  of  people  passed  through  the  church  and  took 
a  last  look  at  the  face  which  was  so  familiar  to  all  Atlanta. 
The  church  was  profusely  and  beautifully  decorated. 

At  two  in  the  afternoon  the  funeral  took  place.  There 
was  no  sermon,  but  the  services  consisted  of  prayers,  read- 
ing selections  from  the  Bible  by  several  ministers,  and 
songs.  "  Shall  we  gather  at  the  river  ?"  was  sung  as  the 
favorite  hymn  of  the  deceased.  At  the  close  of  the  services, 
the  remains  were  placed  in  a  vault  in  Oakland  Cemetery. 

Henry  Grady  was  a  remarkable  man.  He  was  not  quite 
thirty-nine  years  of  age,  had  never  held  an  official  position, 
and  yet  his  wonderful  talent  had  won  for  him  a  national 
reputation.  It  is  scarcely  an  exaggeration  to  say  that,  as 
an  attractive  writer  and  speaker,  he  had  not  an  equal  in  the 
United  States.  Certainly  he  had  no  superior.  He  spoke 
as  well  as  he  wrote,  and  every  utterance  of  his  tongue  or 
production  of  his  pen  was  received  with  eagerness.  There 
was  an  indescribable  charm  about  what  he  said  and  wrote, 
that  is  possessed  by  no  other  person  within  our  knowledge. 

He  began  writing  for  the  press  when  about  eighteen,  and 
at  once  made  a  reputation  throughout  the  State.  That 
reputation  steadily  grew  until  he  could  command  an  audi- 
ence that  would  crowd  any  hall  in  the  United  States. 

It  is  impossible  to  estimate  the  good  he  has  done.  At 
one  time  he  would  use  his  wonderful  eloquence  to  urge  the 


HIS    LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND    SPKKCIIKS.  571 

farmers  of  Georgia  to  seek  prosperity  by  raising  their  own 
supplies.  At  another  time,  lie  would  rally  the  people  of 
Atlanta  to  help  the  poor  of  the  city  who  were  suffering 
from  the  severity  of  the  winter  weather.  Then  he  would 
plead — and  never  in  vain — for  harmony  among  the  dis- 
tracted factions  of  his  loved  city,  who  were  fighting  each 
other  in  some  municipal  contest.  Still  again,  he  would 
incite  his  people  to  grand  achievements  in  material  pros- 
perity ;  and  who  can  measure  the  value  which  his  influence 
has  been  to  Atlanta  in  this  particular  alone  ?  He  often 
said  to  his  people  "  Pin  your  eternal  faith  to  these  old  red 
hills  " ;  and  he  set  the  example. 

But  his  work  was  not  confined  to  the  narrow  limits  of 
his  city  and  State.  He  was  In  demand  in  other  places,  and 
wherever  he  went  he  captured  the  hearts  of  the  people. 
His  speeches  and  his  writings  were  all  philanthropic.  All 
his  efforts  were  for  the  betterment  of  his  fellows.  In  the 
South  he  urged  the  moral  and  material  advancement.  In 
the  North  he  plead,  as  no  other  man  has  plead,  for  justice 
to  the  South  and  for  a  proper  recognition  of  the  rights  of 
our  people.  The  South  has  had  advocates  as  earnest,  but 
never  one  as  eloquent  and  effective. 

In  the  prohibition  contest  in  Atlanta  two  years  ago,  Mr. 
Grady  threw  his  whole  soul  into  the  canvass  for  the  ex- 
clusion of  bar-rooms.  With  his  matchless  eloquence  he 
depicted  the  evils  of  the  liquor  traffic  and  the  blessedness 
of  exemption  from  it.  If  reason  had  prevailed,  his  efforts 
would  not  have  been  in  vain  ;  but  unfortunately  the  bal- 
ance of  power  was  held  by  the  ignorant  and  the  vicious — 
by  those  on  whom  eloquence  and  argument  could  have  no 
effect ;  and  he  lost. 

But  his  life-work  is  ended,  except  so  far  as  the  influence 
of  good  works  lives  after  the  worker  dies.  He  has  done 
much  good  for  his  State  and  for  the  entire  country ;  and 
there  is  no  man  whose  death  would  be  more  lamented  by 
the  people  of  Georgia. 


.r>72  HENRY   W.    GEADY, 


A  MEASURELESS  SORROW. 


From  the  "Lagrange  Reporter.11 

ATLANTA  buried  yesterday  her  greatest  citizen,  and 
Georgia  mourns  the  death  of  her  most  brilliant  son.  Not 
only  Atlanta  and  Georgia  bewail  an  irreparable  loss,  but 
the  whole  South  joins  in  the  lamentation,  while  beyond  her 
boundaries  the  great  North,  so  lately  thrilled  by  his  elo- 
quence, stands  with  uncovered  head  at  Grady's  tomb. 

O  measureless  sorrow  !  A  young  man,  with  unequaled 
genius  and  great,  loving  heart,  has  been  cut  off  in  his  golden 
promise.  The  South  saw  in  him  her  spokesman — her  rep- 
resentative to  the  world.  The  old  and  the  new  were 
happily  blended  in  him.  Revering  the  past,  his  face  was 
turned  to  the  rising  day.  As  the  stars  went  out,  one  by 
one,  he  greeted  the  dawn  of  a  grander  era,  which  he  was 
largely  instrumental  in  hastening.  His  work  for  Georgia, 
the  South,  the  country,  will  abide.  Time  will  only  increase 
his  fame. 

A  journalist  without  a  peer,  an  orator  unsurpassed,  a 
statesman  with  grasp  of  thought  to  "know  what  Israel 
ought  to  do,"  has  fallen.  Words  are  impotent  to  express 
the  public  grief. 

God  reigns.  Let  us  bow  to  His  will  and  trust  Him  for 
help.  Our  extremity  is  His  opportunity.  If  leader  is 
necessary  to  perfect  the  work,  He  will  give  us  one  qualified 
in  all  respects.  Like  Moses,  the  South' s  young  champion 
had  sighted  the  promised  land  and  pointed  out  its  beauties 
and  glories  to  his  wondering  people.  Let  us  boldly  pass 
over  the  Jordan  that  lies  between. 

Rest,  noble  knight.  Dream  of  battle-fields  no  more- 
days  of  toil,  nights  of  danger.  Thy  country  will  take  care 
of  thy  fame. 


HIS   LIFE,    WHITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  573 

GRADY'S  DEATH. 


From  the  "  Ogltthorpe  Echo." 

TOGETHER  with  the  sorrow  of  the  thousdnds  who  loved 
Henry  Grady  that  he  should  be  taken  from  among  them, 
comes  the  lament  of  the  Nation  that  one  so  gifted  and  capa- 
ble of  so  much  good  should  be  cut  down  just  as  he  was 
fairly  upon  the  threshold  of  his  useful  career.  Viewing 
the  surroundings  from  a  human  standpoint,  it  would  seem 
that  his  end  was  indeed  untimely  and  a  calamity  to  the 
whole  Nation. 

Our  own  Colquitt  and  Gordon  have  won  greatly  the 
respect  of  the  Northern  people,  but  they  nor  any  Southern 
man  had  as  implicitly  their  confidence.  Whatever  Grady 
said  or  wrote,  on  no  matter  what  subject,  our  friends 
across  Mason  and  Dixon's  line  accepted  as  utterly  true  and 
not  to  be  questioned.  They  respected  also  his  ability  more 
than  they  did  any  other  man  of  this  section,  and  were  more 
inclined  to  take  his  counsel  and  be  governed  by  his  advice 
and  admonition. 

This  distinction  Grady  had  honestly  won,  and  by  hav- 
ing it  he  was  doing  more  than  any  ten  men  to  obliterate 
sectional  prejudices.  His  last  great  speech,  delivered  only 
a  few  days  before  his  death,  was  on  this  line,  and  its  good 
effects  will  be  felt  the  country  over,  though  he  has  been 
taken  before  he  could  see  them.  In  that  speech  he  disa- 
bused the  minds  of  his  hearers  of  many  erroneous  ideas  of 
the  relations  of  the  races  in  the  South.  He  did  it  by  stating 
plainly  and  unhesitatingly  facts  and  giving  a  true  picture  of 
the  situation  without  varnish.  He  had  the  gift  of  doing  this 
in  such  a  way  as  to  command  the  respect  of  both  sides  of 
whatever  question  he  might  be  discussing.  Just  such  speak- 
ers and  just  such  speeches  is  what  is  now  needed  to  bring 
the  two  sections  together ;  to  obliterate  sectional  prejudices; 
make  the  entire  Nat  ion  one  people  in  purpose  ami  sentiment. 
But  have  we  any  more  Gradys  to  make  them  ?  Perhaps 


574  HKNRY    W.    GRADY, 

so,  but  they  are  in  the  background  arid  time  must  elapse 
before  they  can  reach  his  place.  We  need  them  in  the 
front  and  on  the  platform  now.  Grady  was  already  there, 
and  was  doing  perhaps,  as  no  other  man  will  ever  do,  what 
is  urgently  needed  to  make  the  Nation  more  harmonious, 
more  peaceful  and  more  prosperous ;  and  while  we  must 
bow  in  humble  submission  to  the  will  of  the  Higher  Power 
which  saw  n't  to  end  his  career,  we  can  but  lament  the  evi- 
dent loss  the  people  of  the  South  especially,  and  the  whole 
Nation,  sustains. 


HE  LOVED  HIS  COUNTRY. 


From  the  "  Cuthbert  Liberal." 

IN  the  death  of  Henry  W.  Grady,  Georgia  loses  one  of 
her  most  gifted  sons.  Though  but  a  young  man  he  had 
already  acquired  a  name  that  will  live  as  long  as  Americans 
love  liberty  or  humanity  loves  charity.  Though  in  point 
of  years  but  just  above  the  horizon  of  fame's  vast  empyrean, 
his  sun  shone  with  the  splendor  and  brilliancy  usually 
reached  at  the  zenith.  As  journalist,  he  was  without  a  peer 
in  his  own  loved  Southland.  As  orator,  none  since  the 
death  of  the  gifted  Prentiss  had,  at  his  age,  won  such 
renown.  He  loved  Georgia,  he  loved  the  South,  but  his 
big  heart  and  soul  encompassed  his  whole  country.  As 
patriot,  his  wide-spread  arms  took  in  at  one  embrace  the 
denizens  upon  the  borders  of  the  frozen  lakes  and  the 
dwellers  among  the  orange  groves  that  girt  the  Mexic  sea. 
1I«-  gave  his  life  away  in  a  masterful  effort  to  revive  peace 
;iii<l  goodwill  between  sections  estranged  by  passion  and 
prejudice,  and  races  made  envious  of  each  other  by  seliish 
intermeddling  of  those  who  would  perpetuate  strife  to 
gratify  their  own  greed.  As  neighbor  and  friend,  those 
who  knew  him  best  loved  him  most.  Wherever  suffering 
or  poverty  pinched  humanity,  there  his  heart  bent  in  sym- 
pathy and  there  his  hand  dispensed  charily' s  offerings 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND    SPEECHES.  575 

without  stint.  Though  we  have  differed  with  him  in  many 
things,  the  grave  now  holds  all  our  differences  and  our  tears 
blot  out  the  bitterness  of  words  or  thoughts  of  the  past. 
May  the  God  in  whom  he  trusted  dispense  grace,  mercy 
and  peace  to  the  widow  and  orphans,  whose  grief  and  sorrow 
none  but  they  can  know. 


A  RESPLENDENT  RECORD. 


From  the  "  Madison  Madisonian." 

IT  is  almost  impossible  to  realize  that  Henry  Grady  is 
dead ;  that  the  eager,  restless  hands  are  stilled,  and  the 
great  heart  pulseless  forevermorer  The  soul  turned  sick 
at  the  tidings,  and  a  wave  of  anguish  choked  all  utterance 
save  lamentation  alone.  His  people  mourn  his  passing 
with  one  mighty  voice,  and  like  Rachel  weeping  in  the 
wilderness,  refuse  to  be  comforted. 

It  seems  a  grief  too  heavy  to  be  borne,  and  as  lasting  as 
the  everlasting  hills  ;  but  when  time  shall  have  laid  its 
soothing  hand  upon  our  woe,  there  will  succeed  a  sensation 
of  exultance  and  exaltation,  the  natural  consequence  of  a 
contemplation  and  appreciation  of  the  briefness  and  bril- 
liancy of  his  course,  and  the  proportions  and  perfection  of 
his  handiwork. 

To  few  men  has  it  been  given  to  live  as  Grady  lived  ;  to 
still  less  to  die  as  Grady  died,  in  the  flush  flood-tide  of 
achievement,  laying  down  sword  and  buckler,  the  victory 
won,  and  bowing  farewell  while  yet  the  thunder-gust  of 
plaudits  shook  the  arena  like  a  storm.  He  flamed  like  a 
meteor  athwart  the  night  and  vanished  in  focal  mid-zenith, 
leaving  the  illimitable  void  unstarred  by  an  equal,  whose 
rippling  radiance,  flashing  in  splendor  from  its  myriad 
facets,  might  gladden  our  sublimated  vision. 

And  what  of  good  he  accomplished,  all  his  claim  to 
renown,  and  the  sole  and  simple  cause  of  endearing  him  to 


576  HENRY   W.    GRADY, 

mankind,  rested  upon  one  trait  alone,  one  Christ-like  attri- 
bute and  actuating  motive.  He  held  but  one  creed  and 
preached  but  one  gospel — the  gospel  of  love.  "Little 
children,  love  one  another,"  said,  now  nearly  a  score  of 
centuries  since,  the  carpenter  of  Nazareth,  and  with  this 
text — this  first  and  greatest  and  most  divine  of  all  the 
commandments — for  a  wizard's  wand,  our  modern  Merlin 
unlocked  hearts  and  insured  the  hearty  clasping  of  palms 
from  one  end  to  the  other  of  this  broad  land. 

What  more  resplendent  record  could  man  attain? 
What  prouder  fame  be  shouted  down  the  ages  ? 

His  epitaph  is  written  in  the  hearts  of  his  people.  His 
memory  is  enshrined  in  the  love  of  a  nation. 

Let  us  leave  him  to  repose. 


DEDICATED  TO  HUMANITY. 


From  the  "  Sandersville  Herald  and  Georgian." 

THE  usual  joyous  season  of  Christmas  tide  has  been 
saddened  by  funeral  dirges  over  the  loss  of  Georgia's  gifted 
son.  Since  the  death  of  the  eloquent  and  lamented  Ben 
Hill,  the  loss  of  no  man  has  aroused  deeper  sorrow  than 
Henry  W.  Grady.  Greater  demonstrations  of  grief  with 
all  the  emblems  of  mourning  were  perhaps  never  before 
exhibited  in  Georgia.  Memorial  services  were  held  not 
only  in  Atlanta,  the  city  of  his  home,  but  throughout  the 
State,  voicing  the  great  love  of  the  people  and  their  deep 
sense  of  the  magnitude  of  his  loss.  More  touching,  beau- 
tiful eulogies  and  panegyrics  have  perhaps  never  been  pro- 
nounced over  the  bier  of  any  man. 

The  intensity  of  the  admiration  for  Henry  Grady  grew 
out  of  the  fact  that  his  grand  powers  were  all  dedicated  to 
the  interests  of  humanity.  His  magic  pen,  that  charmed 
while  it  instructed,  that  delighted  while  it  moved,  was  laid 
under  contribution  to  the  good  of  his  fellows.  Eager  for 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  577 

the  development  of  his  State  and  her  resources,  he  trav- 
ersed the  lowlands  of  the  South,  and  depicted  her  vast 
possibilities  in  the  cultivation  of  fruits,  melons,  etc.,  that 
have  added  so  much  to  her  material  wealth.  Turning  to 
the  rock-ribbed  mountains  and  hills  of  North  Georgia  he 
pointed  out  the  vast  treasures  of  iron  ore,  marble  and  coal, 
but  waiting  the  hand  of  industry.  In  all  sections  he  por- 
trayed their  resources,  their  fields  for  manufacturers,  the 
importance  and  value  of  increased  railroad  transportation — 
in  fact,  leaving  nothing  undone  that  seemed  to  promise 
good  and  prosperity  to  his  people. 

The  sunny  heart  which  he  always  carried  into  his  labors 
was  his  chief  charm.  The  playful  yet  ardent  spirit  which 
he  always  had  he  seemed  happily  to  be  able  to  impart  to 
others.  Indeed,  he  seemed  to  be  a  gatherer  of  sunbeams, 
his  blithe  spirit  seemed  to  sing, 

Let  us  gather  up  the  sunbeams 

Lying1  all  around  our  path, 
Let  us  keep  the  wheat  and  roses, 

Casting  out  the  thorns  and  chaff. 

The  sweet,  pacific  tone  of  his  mind  gave  him  a  wonderful 
influence  over  the  masses.  More  than  once  when  disturb- 
ing questions  were  agitating  the  city,  and  party  and  per- 
sonal feeling  ran  high,  has  he  by  his  conciliatory  spirit  and 
harmless  pleasantry  quelled  the  boisterous  multitude. 
This  spirit  was  ever  fruitful  of  methods  and  concessions  by 
which  all  could  harmonize.  It  was  the  cropping  out  of 
these  broad,  liberal  views  in  the  fields  of  national  patriot- 
ism that  arrested  the  attention  of  other  sections  of  the 
Union,  and  gave  rise  to  calls  for  Grady  to  address  the 
people  at  the  meeting  of  the  Historical  Society  in  New 
York  over  two  years  ago.  The  eloquent  utterances  of  the 
young  orator,  as  he  painted  the  Confederate  soldier  return- 
ing from  the  war,  ragged,  shoeless  and  penniless,  fired  the 
Northern  heart  with  a  sympathy  for  the  South  it  had 
never  known  before. 

From  this  time  his  fame  as  an  orator  was  established, 


578  HENRY    VV.    GRADY, 

and  lie  was  at  once  ranked   among   the  greatest  living 
orators  of  the  day. 

Thoughtful  men  of  the  North,  recognizing  the  race  prob- 
lem as  one  of  the  coming  momentous  issues  of  the  future, 
were  eager  to  hear  the  broad  views  and  patriotic  sug- 
gest ions  of  this  great  pacificator.  An  invitation  was  then; 
extended  by  the  Merchants'  Association  of  Boston  to 
address  them  at  Faneuil  Hall.  The  address  seemed  to  call 
forth  all  his  capacious  powers,  and  is  styled  the  crowning 
masterpiece  of  his  life.  As  he  graphically  sketched  the 
happy  results  of  the  sun  shining  upon  a  land  with  all 
diil'erences  harmonized,  with  all  aspirations  purified  by 
the  limpid  fount  of  patriotism,  he  sketched  a  panorama  of 
loveliness  and  beauty  arid  promise  that  enraptured  his 
hearers.  And  as  the  notes  of  the  dying  swan  thrill  with 
new  melody,  so  the  last  utterances  of  the  dying  statesman 
will  have  now  a  new  charm  for  those  who  loved  him. 


THE  SOUTH  LAMENTS. 


From  the  "Middle  Georgia  Progress." 

ONE  week  ago  yesterday  morning  woe  folded  her  dark 
and  gloomy  pinions  and  settled  over  our  fair  and  sunny 
Southland  !  He,  who  by  his  love  for  us,  by  his  incessant 
labor  for  the  advancement  of  our  material  progress,  whose 
voice  was  raised  to  dispel  the  shadows  of  hate  and  preju- 
dice, and  bring  the  North  and  South  into  a  closer  union, 
whose  heart  was  filled  with  charity,  and  whose  hands  were 
ever  performing  deeds  of  kindness,  the  eloquent  and  gifted 
Grady— the  knightly  and  chivalrous  leader  of  the  peaceful 
hosts  of  the  New  South — was  called  to  a  brighter  home  in 
the  skies,  where  all  is  peace  and  joy  and  supernal  bliss. 
The  whole  South  laments  his  death  "and  may  his  soul  rest 
in  peace"  is  the  sentiment  of  every  heart.  His  virtues  are 
sung  in  sweetest  song,  and  his  worth  proclaimed  by  lips 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  579 

tremulous  with  emotion.  Young  in  years,  but  matured  in 
wisdom,  he  grappled  the  great  question  that  affected  his 
people,  and  with  matchless  eloquence  presented  their  cause 
on  New  England  soil  and  told  of  their  loyalty  and  love,  still 
cherishing  and  remembering  the  traditions  of  the  past. 
His  death  everywhere  is  recognized  as  a  national  calamity. 
Every  public  utterance  and  every  public  appearance, 
whether  in  New  York,  Boston,  Texas  or  on  his  native  soil, 
amid  "  the  red  old  hills  of  Georgia,"  has  been  greeted  with 
applause  and  demonstrations  of  delight.  Made  fatherless 
in  youth  by  the  cruel  ravage  of  war,  lie  struck  out  with  a 
stout  heart  and  strong  hands  for  success — how  well  he 
achieved  it,  the  praises  showered  upon  him  from  every 
quarter  forcibly  demonstrate  the  fact !  Who  lias  not  felt 
the  warmth  of  his  sunny  nature  ? — it  glows  in  every  stroke 
of  his  pen,  and  shines  in  all  his  eloquent  utterances,  and 
brightens  his  memory  as  his  name  and  triumphs  pass  into 
history.  Mr.  Grady,  by  his  pen  and  eloquence,  has  done 
more  for  the  South  than  any  other  of  her  sons,  and  their 
love  and  appreciation  is  attested  in  their  universal  sorrow. 
His  gifts  were  rare,  his  eloquence  wonderful,  and  he  bore 
in  honor  and  peace  the  standard  of  his  people,  and  they 
will  ever  keep  his  memory  fresh  and  green. 


HIS  CAREEK. 


From  the  "  Dalian  Citizen." 

ONLY  a  few  short  weeks  ago  Hon.  Henry  W.  Grady  left 
his  Atlanta  home  to  electrify  a  critical  audience  in  Boston, 
Mass.,  with  one  of  his  inimitable  speeches.  Through  all 
the  papers  of  the  country  The  fame  of  this  magnificent 
address  went  ringing,  and  ere  the  speech  itself  was  printed 
in  full,  the  orator  from  whose  lips  it  fell  was  stricken  with  a 
fatal  disease  on  his  return  homeward.  In  little  more  than  a 
week  his  life's  sands  had  rim  their  course,  and  in  the  flush 


580  HENRY   W.    GRADY, 

of  a  glorious  and  useful  manhood  Henry  Grady  lay  dead, 
while  his  eulogies  were  on  the  lips  of  the  whole  nation. 
There  has  been  much  written  by  friends  (he  had  no  foes)  in 
the  newspaper  world  concerning  this  great  loss ;  but  it  is 
all  summed  up  in  the  words,  "  Henry  Grady  is  dead !" 

Somewhere,  in  an  English  poet's  writings,  we  find  a 
pregnant  little  sentence  :  "I  stood  beside  the  grave  of  one 
who  blazed  the  comet  of  a  season."  The  career  of  Henry 
Grady  has  been  likened  by  several  speakers  and  writers  to 
a  star  burning  brightly  in  the  national  and  journalistic  sky, 
but  its  light  quenched  in  the  darkness  of  death  ere  it 
reached  its  zenith.  Fittest,  it  seems  to  us,  is  the  simile 
quoted  previously.  A  comet  trailing  its  brilliant  light 
across  the  darkening  heavens,  a  spectacle  focussing  the 
gaze  of  millions  of  eyes,  causing  other  stars  to  sink  into 
insignificance  by  reason  of  its  greater  glow  and  grandeur.— 
Then,  while  the  interest  concerning  its  movements  has 
reached  its  intensity,  its  gleaming  light  fades,  and  presently 
the  sky  is  merely  glittering  again  with  the  myriad  stars,  for 
the  flash  and  the  blaze  of  the  comet  have  disappeared  for- 
ever and  it  is  invisible  to  mortal  eyes.  The  question  is, 
will  another  take  its  place,  and  when  ? — We  think  notsoon. 
Even  should  an  orator,  whose  eloquence  might  sway  multi- 
tudes, rise  to  reign  in  the  dead  hero's  stead,  it  is  more  than 
probable  that  he  would  not  combine  with  his  oratory  the 
wonderful  statistical  knowledge  possessed  by  Mr.  Grady, 
whose  solid  reasoning  was  only  exceeded  by  the  winsome 
touch,  creeping  in  here  and  there,  of  the  true  artistic  nature. 
He  spoke  in  his  last  address  of  the  South's  vast  resources— 
of  its  "  cotton  whitening  by  night  beneath  the  stars,  and  by 
<l;i  v  the  wheat  locking  the  sunshine  in  its  bearded  sheaf." 
A  practical  argument  at  one  turn  and  a  beautifully  rounded 
sentence  at  another. 

These  things  made  up  the  speeches  that  held  so  many  in 
breathless  attention,  augmented  by  his  magnetic  person- 
ality. It  would  be  well  for  our  Southland  could  another  as 
gifted  shine  forth  in  like  splendor. 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND    SPEECHES.  581 

OUR  FALLEN  HERO. 


From  the  " Hartwell  Sun." 

WE  little  thought  in  our  last  issue  for  the  old  year, 
when  we  penned  a  brief  paragraph  to  the  effect  that  Mr. 
Grady  had  returned  from  his  brilliant  triumph  in  Boston 
to  his  home  in  Atlanta  sick  with  a  cold,  that  in  a  few  hours 
afterward  his  grand  spirit  should  have  winged  its  flight  to 
the  home  beyond,  and  that  upon  the  Christmas  day,  when 
the  glad  bells  should  ring  out  their  joyous  message  of 
"  Peace  on  earth— good  will  to  men  "  in  the  great  city  so 
much  of  his  own  making,  that  instead  they  should  toll  the 
sad  requiem  of  "  Dust  to  dust,"  and  that  every  heart  from 
the  ragged  newsboy  to  the  chief  magistrate  should  be 
bursting  with  anguish  as  the  noble  form  of  their  idolized 
leader  was  consigned  to  the  cold,  silent  grave. 

The  blow  came  so  suddenly  and  was  so  totally  unex- 
pected, that  it  spread  consternation — not  only  in  his  own 
beloved  State  and  Southland — but  over  the  entire  country. 
Was  there  ever  a  man  so  universally  loved  with  so  brief  a 
career !  Was  there  ever  a  man  so  sincerely  and  widely 
mourned !  Was  there  ever  a  man  so  grandly,  so  eloquently 
eulogized !  Never  have  we  seen  anything  like  it — never 
have  we  heard  of  anything  like  it ;  nor  do  we  believe  there 
was  ever  a  parallel. 

But  all  the  panegyrics  by  passionate  lips  uttered,  nor  nil 
the  burning  words  of  eulogy  by  eloquent  pens  written,  have 
yet  expressed  the  tremendous  weight  of  sorrow  that 
oppresses  the  hearts  of  the  people  who  loved  him  so  well. 
This  was  indeed  a  time  when  strong  men  of  mighty  mind 
and  fluent  tongue  felt  the  utter  poverty  of  expression  and 
the  inadequacy  of  words. 

It  did  appear  as  if  he  was  just  entering  upon  his  glorious 
career, — as  if  his  life's  work  yet  lay  out  before  him.  And 
yet  what  a  glorious,  what  a  grand  work  he  had  done  !  And 
may  not  his  death  have  emphasized  his  glowing  appeals  for 


582  HENRY    W.    GRADY, 

a  broader  charity  ;  for  an  unquestioning  confidence  ;  for 
fraternal  love  :ni(l  justice  ;  for  a  re-united  country.  In  our 
very  heart  we  believe  so.  If  not — God  help  our  country  ! 

\Ve  will  not  attempt  to  eulogize  Henry  Grady — to  speak 
of  his  brilliant  intellect ;  of  his  matchless  eloquence  ;  of 
his  spot  less  character  ;  of  his  great,  warm,  unselfish  heart — 
that  has  already  been  done  by  those  better  fitted  for  the 
loving  task  ;  but.  the  hot  tears  blind  our  eyes  as  w««  ihink 
of  the  handsome,  boyish  form  of  the  peerless  Grady  lying 
cold  in  the  remorseless  embrace  of  death.  Peace  be  to  his 
precious  ashes  ! — Eternal  joy  to  his  immortal  spirit ! 


A  DEATHLESS  NAME. 


From  the  "  Gainesville  Eagle" 

THERE  was  buried  in  Atlanta  yesterday  a  young  man 
that  illustrated  the  possibilities  of  American  youth. 

There  are  two  forces  that  combine  to  make  great  men- 
heredity  and  environment.  The  first  had  given  Henry 
Grady  magnificent  natural  endowment — a  kingly  and  mas- 
terful mind.  The  second  gave  him  opportunity,  and  he 
utilized  it  for  all  it  was  worth.  Combined,  they  have 
given  him  a  deathless  name  and  fame  that  will  make  one 
of  the  brightest  pages  in  the  Southland's  history. 

All  over  the  land,  men  and  women,  who  loved  his 
sweetness  of  soul,  grieve  to-day  over  his  untimely  end. 
All  over  the  South,  men  who  expected  much  of  his  tongue 
and  pen,  mourn  sincerely  the  loss  of  the  brilliant  mind 
which  worshiped  so  loyally  at  Patriotism's  altar.  How 
illy  could  he  be  spared.  How  inscrutable  the  ways  of 
Providence  !  We  can  but  bow  and  grieve. 

1 5iit  what  an  inspiration  the  history  of  his  brief  years  ! 
Poor  and  unknown  a  few  years  ago,  he  died  in  a  halo  of 
glory  that  had  made  his  name  a  household  word  over  a 
continent.  His  life  was  a  psalm  of  praise.  Like  the  birds, 
he  sang  because  he  must.  Eloquence  dwelt  in  his  tongue 


Ill-    I.I1   K,     '.VKITIN<;>.     AM)    >!•] 

like  the  perfume  in  tlie  heart  of  the  flowers  ;  Bweel 
Mowed  from  his  pen  ;is  the  honey  comes  from  the  mysteri- 
ous alchemy  of  the  bee — it  was  his  nature. 

This  is  not  the  time  or  place  to  analyze  or  measure  his 
life  work.  History  and  the  future  must  render  that  ver- 
dict. Frankly,  we  are  not  of  those  who  believe  that  his 
speeches — eloquent  and  strand  as  they  were — will  wipe  out 
sectional  feeling.  The  people  who  hate  and  fear  the  South 
are  given  over  to  believe  a  lie.  It  is  their  stock  in  trade  ; 
it  is  the  life  blood  of  their  political  partisanship,  and 
though  one  rose  from  the  dead,  they  would  not  believe. 
But  he  had  done  and  was  doing,  and  had  he  lived  would 
have  brought  to  a  marvelous  fruition  something  of  far 
more  practical  value.  He  had  made  known  to  the  world 
the  marvelous  resources  of  the  South,  and  gotten  the  ear 
of  capital  and  enterprise  and  brought,  and  was  bringing, 
the  enginery  of  its  power  to  unlock  the  storehouses  of  an 
untold  wealth.  'Tis  here  his  grandest  work  was  done. 
Call  it  selfish,  if  you  will,  but  'tis  here  our  loss  is  greatest. 

His  brilliancy,  dash  and  originality  had  made  the  great 
journal,  of  which  he  was  the  head,  easily  the  foremost 
newspaper  of  the  South.  His  eloquent  tongue  and  match- 
less pen  had  made  him  par  excellence  the  exemplar  and 
apostle  of  this  grand  and  growing  section. 

But  the  end  has  come.  Only  He  who  has  smitten  can 
know  whether  such  another  prophet  shall  rise  in  the  wil- 
derness to  lead  us  forward  to  the  glorious  destiny  which 
his  prophetic  eye  foresaw,  and  to  which  his  throbbing, 
loyal  heart  gave  itself  and  died. 


A  GREAT  SOUL. 


From  the   "  Baxley  Banner."11 

A  GREAT  soul  has  passed  away. 

After  a  life  brief  but  brilliant,  he  is  lost  to  the  country 
that  loved  and  honored  him.  and  which  his  lofty 
and  pure  patriotism  have  illustrated  and  adorned. 


>  I  IIKXIJY     \V.    (iKADV, 

As  the  lightning  that  comes  out  of  the  South,  and 
flashes  from  horizon  to  horizon,  so  was  his  short  life  in  its 
bright,  swift  passage,  illuminating  the  earth. 

In  the  (l«':itli  of  Henry  Grady,  his  city,  his  State,  the 
South,  the  whole  country  has  suffered  a  great  loss.  His 
voice  was  ever  the  ringing,  stirring  herald-tones  that  an- 
nounced the  promise  of  fairer  days  and  a  happier  people. 
He  was  no  low-browed,  latter-day  prophet  of  evil ;  but 
preached  here  and  everywhere  the  new  and  bright  evangel 
of  hope.  He  was  the  voice  of  his  city,  heard  ringing 
through  Georgia  and  the  Union ;  the  voice  of  his  State, 
heard  clarion-like  from  ocean  to  ocean,  and  the  golden- 
mouthed  messenger  from  the  South  to  the  North,  proclaim- 
ing a  brotherhood  of  love  that  the  shock  of  war  had  not 
destroyed.  And  thus  his  death  will  be  mourned,  not  in 
Atlanta  or  in  Georgia  only,  but  wherever  an  American 
heart  is,  that  heart  will  mourn  his  death. 

Particularly  is  Mr.  Grady' s  death  a  loss  to  journalism. 
He  stood  the  peer  of  any  in  the  world,  and  was  the  greatest 
journalist  in  the  South.  His  pen  was  as  eloquent  as  his 
tongue,  and  from  the  closet  as  well  as  from  the  platform 
his  words  came  with  vivifying  power,  refreshing  and  in- 
spiring. 

Death  struck  him  down  from  the  lofty  pinnacle  of  fame, 
to  which  his  eloquence  had  so  swiftly  upborne  him.  A 
young  man,  he  had  already  reached  a  height  that  would 
have  dazzled  a  weaker  soul,  and  he  has  fallen  in  the  midst 
of  his  triumph,  while  yet  the  plaudits  of  tens  of  thousands 
from  every  part  of  this  country  rang  fainter  and  fainter  on 
his  dying  ear.  It  was  something  worth  to  have  such  heart- 
felt approbations  sounding  around  him  as  he  sunk  to  his 
last  sleep.  It  was  the  crowning  of  a  life  well  lived,  and 
spent  with  lavish  patriotism  for  his  country's  weal. 

He  burned  his  life  to  the  socket  like  a  swift  devouring 
flame.  His  energy  was  tremendous,  and  almost  feverish 
in  its  eagerness  to  do  something  worth  the  doing.  He 
returned  to  his  city  and  his  home  with  death  upon  him, 
stricken  even  in  his  great  triumph.  The  glow  of  fever  fol- 


HIS    LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND    SPEECHES.  585 

lowed  hard  upon  the  glow  of  victory,  and  so,  after  a  brief 
and  burning  life — a  life  crowded  thick  with  triumphs, 
"God's  finger  touched  him  and  he  slept"— the  sleep  He 
giveth  to  His  beloved. 

Of  his  private  life  all  may  speak.  We  know  it  well. 
It  is  familiar  to  us  all  as  household  words,  though  his 
charity  and  his  kindness  were  without  ostentation.  He 
was  generous  without  stint,  and  whether  it  was  as  the  boy 
making  up  a  fund  to  buy  a  poor  schoolmate  a  handsome 
suit  to  graduate  in,  or  as  the  man  lending  a  helping  hand 
to  lift  or  guide  the  needy,  self  was  forgotten  in  his  kind- 
ness to  others.  In  thousands  of  homes  he  will  be 

Named  softly  as  the  household  name 
Of  one  whom  God  has  taken. 

His  city,  his  State,  and  his  country  will  build  for  him  a 
shaft,  but  his  greatest  monument  will  be  in  the  hearts  that 
mourn  his  death. 

A  great  and  loving  soul  has  passed. 


IN  MEMORIAM. 


From  the  "  Henry  County  Times.'''' 

THE  public  heart,  still  quivering  and  aching  from  the 
shock  occasioned  by  the  death  of  its  venerated  and  talented 
leader,  Jefferson  Davis,  had  its  cup  of  woe  and  grief  filled 
to  overflowing  by  those  words  of  doom — "  Henry  Grady  is 
dead."  In  the  natural  course  of  events,  the  first  catas- 
trophe was  one  that  might  have  happened  any  time  in  the 
past  ten  years,  as  the  great  Confederate  chief  had  long  since 
passed  the  limit  of  three-score-and-ten,  the  average  limit 
attached  by  Biblical  authority  to  human  life.  Mr.  Davis 
descended  to  his  grave  full  of  years  and  honors,  and  while 
he  was  universally  and  sincerely  mourned  in  the  South, 
still,  it  did  not  fall  upon  us  with  that  electric  suddenness 


586  HENRY    W.    GRADY, 

which  so  shocked  and  agonized  the  Southern  heart  as 
when  our  young  Demosthenes  became  a  victim  to  the  fell 
destroyer. 

So  universal  is  this  sorrow,  that  a  separate  and  personal 
bereavement  could  not  have  more  completely  shrouded  in 
grief  the  public  mind  than  did  the  announcement  of  his 
death.  The  advent  of  the  dark  angel  into  each  and  every 
household  could  not  have  more  completely  paralyzed  the 
public  mind  than  did  the  untimely  taking  off  of  this 
superbly  gifted  son  of  Georgia.  Never  since  the  angel  of 
the  Lord  smote  the  first-born  of  Egyptian  households  for 
lack  of  mystic  symbols  on  the  door,  has  a  people's  sorrow 
been  so  deep,  so  universal,  and  so  sincere.  Had  the  end  of 
such  a  man  come  in  the  proper  course  of  nature,  heralded 
by  such  physical  changes  as  indicate  the  approach  of  death, 
it  might  have  been  better  borne,  but  would  still  have  been  an 
event  of  national  misfortune  that  would  have  taxed  to  the 
uttermost  the  endurance  of  hearts  already  lacerated  by 
freshly  opened  wounds.  Had  we  been  in  the  possession  of 
such  warnings  as  it  was  in  the  power  of  Omnipotence  to 
have  granted  us,  still  the  blow  would  have  been  unutterably 
painful  and  overpowering.  But  that  he,  who  was  conceded 
to  be  the  intellectual  peer  of  any  in  the  nation  ;  who  was 
without  a  superior  as  an  orator  in  the  present  generation  ; 
that  he  who  was  in  an  especial  manner  fitted  to  be  the 
champion  of  the  South  in  her  appeal  for  justice  at  the  bar 
of  public  opinion,  both  in  Europe  and  America  ;  .that  he, 
who  was  so  richly  endowed  should  suddenly  and  without 
warning,  as  it  were,  become  the  victim  of  death,  and  have 
all  the  bright  and  brilliant  promise  of  a  life  whose  sun  had 
risen  so  gloriously,  quenched  in  death  and  darkness,  might 
well  move  a  people  to  tears,  and  clothe  a  nation  in  sack- 
cloth and  ashes. 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  587 

A  PEOPLE  MOURN. 


From  the  "  Warrenton  Clipper." 

THE  people  of  the  Southland  are  wrapped  in  grief  and  a 
nation  mourns  in  sympathy.  While  all  nature  beams  with 
beauteous  smiles  and  December  luxuriates  in  the  balmy 
breezes  of  spring,  he  whom  we  had  learned  to  love  and  to 
whom  his  people  turned  for  hope  and  encouragement,  lies 
wrapped  in  earth's  cold  embrace.  Henry  W.  Grady  is 
dead.  Early  Monday  morning  his  brave  spirit  forsook  its 
earthly  tenement  and  sought  Him  who  had  given  it  being. 
The  electric  words  which  flashed  the  sad  news  through  the 
length  and  breadth  of  the  country  carried  mourning  into 
thousands  of  homes  and  millions  of  hearts.  The  friend  of 
the  people  was  dead,  and  one  universal  sense  of  sorrow  per- 
vaded the  minds  of  all. 

Mr.  Grady  had  just  returned  from  Boston,  where  he 
had  delivered  one  of  the  grandest  addresses  of  his  life, 
before  the  Boston  Merchants'  Association,  upon  the  South- 
ern question.  The  speech  was  thoroughly  Southern  in  its 
character,  and  a  grand  defense  of  the  course  of  his  people 
in  national  politics  and  their  dealings  with  the  colored  race. 
Exposure  in  the  raw  New  England  atmosphere  caused  him 
to  contract  a  severe  cold  which  rapidly  grew-  worse.  He 
was  very  ill  when  he  returned  to  Atlanta  and  pneumonia 
in  its  worst  form  soon  developed.  He  lay  ill  at  his  beau- 
tiful home  in  Atlanta  for  a  few  days  only,  gradually  grow- 
ing worse,  until  the  end  came  Monday  morning. 

Though  his  dangerous  situation  was  known,  the  proba- 
bility of  his  death  did  not  seem  to  occur  to  the  people. 
That  the  youthful,  magnetic,  beloved  Grady  could  die 
seemed  impossible.  When  the  blow  had  fallen  its  effect 
was  to  stun,  and  had  we  been  told  that  it  was  a  dream,  a 
mistake,  wre  would  really  him-  believed  it  and  sought  out 
some  new  evidence  of  his  popularity.  Dead  !  Is  it  i 
ble  !  Before  he  had  reached  the  prime  of  his  manhood  or 


588  IIENKY    W.    GRADY. 

the  zenith  of  his  fame !  Did  Death  but  waylay  to  seize 
him  just  as  we  were  learning  his  worth  ?  Of  the  many 
mysteries  of  life  death  is  the  greatest. 

Nothing  shows  more  the  high  estimation  i,n  which  the 
man  was  held  than  the  widespread  sources  from  which 
came  the  words  of  sympathy  and  condolence  ;  from  field 
and  fireside,  from  town  and  hamlet,  from  city  street  and 
mansion,  from  every  source  in  which  his  noble  words  have 
found  an  echo,  poured  forth  the  gentle  words  of  sympathy 
and  sorrow.  Statesmen  and  soldiers  hastened  to  proffer 
their  sympathy  and  great  men  of  every  rank  condoled  with 
the  bereaved  ones.  Not  a  prominent  Northern  journal 
but  devoted  considerable  space  to  his  memory.  Party  and 
creed  were  alike  forgotten.  Not  a  whisper  of  depreciation 
was  heard  from  any  source. 

There  never  died  a  man  within  the  history  of  the  State 
whose  fame  was  so  recent,  who  was  so  generally  loved  and 
admired  in  life  and  so  universally  regretted  in  death.  On 
Christmas,  the  day  of  joy  and  peace,  we  laid  our  hero  to 
rest.  Not  the  less  a  hero  because  his  were  the  victories  of 
peace.  No  victor,  fresh  from  the  bloody  field  of  battle, 
was  ever  more  deserving  of  his  laurel  wreaths  than  he  of 
the  chaplets  we  can  only  lay  upon  his  grave.  The  lips 
that  pleaded  so  eloquently  for  peace  and  union  are  stilled 
in  death,  and  the  hand  that  penned  so  many  beautiful 
words  for  the  encouragement  of  his  people  moves  no  more. 
A  sense  of  peculiar  personal  loss  is  upon  us.  The  old  men 
have  lost  a  son,  the  young  men  a  brother.  Atlanta  mourns 
her  foremost  citizen,  the  State  a  devoted  son,  the  South  an 
able  defender  and  the  Nation  an  honored  citizen.  Our 
matchless  Grady  is  no  more. 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND    SPEECHES.  689 

HENRY  W.  GRADY  IS  NO  MORE. 


From  the  "Valdoata 

HENRY  W.  GRADY  is  dead.  His  great  soul  has  passed 
from  this  mundane  sphere.  Truly  "a  silver  tongue  is 
hushed  and  a  golden  pen  is  broken."  Matchless  orator, 
brilliant  journalist,  able  statesman,  patriotic  citizen,  noble 
man — shall  we  see  your  like  again  ! 

When  Stonewall  Jackson  fell  fighting  for  the  land  he 
loved,  the  Confederacy  lost  her  great  right  arm,  and  never 
recovered  from  the  blow.  So,  in  these  post-bellum  days— 
in  times  of  comparative  peace — but  under  anomalous  and 
trying  conditions — the  South  loses  her  ablest  leader,  and  at 
a  time  when  his  services  seem  most  needed,  and  when  he 
was  doing  that  service  so  nobly  and  well.  The  death  of 
Mr.  Grady  in  '89  compares  only,  in  the  Southern  estimate, 
with  the  loss  of  Jackson  in  '  63.  Viewed  from  the  natural 
side  of  human  wisdom,  his  death,  in  the  words  of  the  great 
Republican  orator  of  New  York,  is  a  national  calamity. 

This  young  man,  from  obscurity  and  poverty,  by  the 
sheer  force  of  his  genius,  sprang  easily  and  early  to  a 
national  celebrity  which  few  dare  hope  for,  and  fewer  still 
attain  in  the  generations  of  men.  He  was  both  brilliant 
and  practical,  both  gentle  and  wise.  He  would  build  a 
factory  or  a  railroad,  or  found  a  great  exposition,  as  easily 
as  he  would  deliver  a  bright  oration.  He  would  counsel 
with  statesmen  with  the  same  tact  and  ease  that  he  would 
go  gunning  with  the  young  men  of  the  town.  When  he 
touched  a  man  he  made  a  friend. 

The  writer,  who  would  pay  this  short  and  poor  tribute, 
knew  him  for  eighteen  years.  He  has  seen  him  from  many 
points  of  view — mostly  as  an  opponent  in  State  politics, 
but  always  as  a  friend.  In  his  office  at  work — at  his  pri- 
vate board — in  the  political  caucus — on  an  angling  or  gun- 
ning expedition — his  transcendent  genius  always  shown 
with  a  rare  and  radiant  light.  To  these  who  have  known 


.V.M)  Hl.NUY    \V.    (.KADY, 

him  well  he  has  long  t-.-.-n  tin-  man  the  world  has  recently 
round  him  tube — one  of  the  greatest  men  of  his  time;  to 
such  his  loss  is  felt  as  a  personal  l>eivavement.  Kaeh  one, 
when  his  name  is  heard,  will  recall  some  word  or  deed  to 
cherish  as  a  fragrance  from  the  tomb.  Such  memories  will 
be  treasured  in  the  hearts  of  many,  from  <  J  rover  Cleveland 
to  the  saucy  neusboys  who  cry  the  (Jonxliliition  on  the 
streets  of  Atlanta. 

But  to  abler  pens,  and  to  those  who  have  known  him 
longer  and  better,  the  task  is  left  to  pronounce  a  fitting 
eulogy. 

Of  his  life  and  his  death,  much  space  is  ungrudgingly 
given  elsewhere  ill  this  issue' of  the  7V///c.v.  Let  the  young 
men  of  the  country  read,  and  learn  of  him  who  has  passed 
away  at  thirty-eight  years  of  age  and  left  the  impress  of 
his  genius  upon  the  greatest  Nation  of  the  earth. 


MAYBE  HIS  WORK  IS  FINISHED." 


From  the  "  Dalton  Argus. " 

HENRY  WOODFIN  GKADY  died  Monday  morning,  Decem- 
ber 23, 1889,  from  bronchial  and  other  troubles,  irritated  by 
his  recent  visit  to  Boston,  where  he  made  his  last  and 
greatest  speech  in  behalf  of  the  section  and  people  he  loved 
so  well. 

Since  England  lost  her  Wellington,  and  America  her 
Lincoln,  no  greater  calamity  has  moved  a  people  to  sympa- 
thetic  tears  than  the  death  of  Henry  Grady.  His  life  was 
the  fulfillment  of  a  noble  man,  and  his  grand  impulses 
touched  every  phase  of  humanity.  No  man  was  ever  better 
known  to  his  country  by  an  unbroken  chain  of  rarer  virtues, 
nobler  purposes,  and  more  powerful  capacities.  His  work, 
in  whatever  field,  was  the  impetuosity  of  pat  riot  ism.  His 
successes  stand  as  a  mark  of  indomitable  energy.  Possess- 
ing an  extraordinary  faculty  of  grasping  opportunities  at 


HIS    Ul-'K,    WKIT1.M.S,    AND    SPEECHES.  .V.H 

the  full  Hood  title,  he  illustrated  the  perfect  patriot  in  for- 
gettingself  for  common  good,  the  genuine  friend  in  bestow- 
ing his  own  advantages  to  others.  Only  he  that  worthily 
lives,  in  death  enshrines  himself  in  the  hearts  of  hispeople, 
and  not  a  wire  in  all  the  network  of  commercial  arieri.-.-, 
but  that  has  given,  in  m  of  love,  cadences  of  a  conn- 

try's  sorrow.  When  poets  and  patriots  are  met  at  the  bier 
by  the  hushed  voices  of  the  rabble,  and  commerce  pans.-s 
to  pay  tribute,  Heaven-blest  must  be  the  spirit  that  gives 
flight  from  earth.  In  all  the  walks  of  life  Henry  (irady 
has  left  remembrances  that  suggest  homage  to  his  worth. 

But  his  name  shall  occupy  a  space  in  history,  filling  the 
brightest  niche  of  an  illustrious  age,  that  his  life  shall  stand 
out  boldly  in  the  perfect  beauty  of  its  accomplishment. 

There  is  a  touching  coincidence  in  his  death,  following 
so  closely  after  that  of  Jefferson  Davis,  that  the  funeral 
dirge  of  one  almost  blends  into  the  decadence  of  the  other, 
giving  figure  to  an  illustration  as  true  as  it  is  sublime. 

Who  can  refute  the  suggestion  that  it  was  a  wise  decree 
of  Providence,  staying  the  relentless  demands  of  Time  that 
sectional  prejudice  might  lose  its  forceful  resentment,  lend- 
ing ear  to  the  vigorous  mind  of  Davis,  through  the  very 
nobility  of  his  after  life  ;  and  giving  communion  of  perfect 
sympathy  through  the  pleading  of  Henry  Grady,  caught 
up  as  if  from  the  living  embers  of  the  old,  a  fair  type  of 
that  historic  period,  imbued  with  all  the  demands  of  the 
present,  his  patriotic  ardor  glowing  with  fire  of  eloquence, 
his  dying  speech  giving  tumult  of  enthusiasm  in  voice  of 
advocacy,  expounding  reason  indorsed  by  every  Southern 
man  '. 

No  man  better  knew  the  temper  of  his  people,  or  gave 
thought  with  riper  philosophy  to  the  issues  which  surround 
them  ;  or  was  less  fearless  to  speak  the  truth. 

As  a  common  country  gave  applause  to  the  logic  of  the 
living,  may  we  not  trust  in  the  prophecy  of  the  mourning 
mother,  that  the  work  for  which  he  gave  his  life,  in  unmur- 
muring sacrifice,  is  truly  accomplished  ( 

There  is  such  pathos  in   the  incident  of  this  last  grand 


IIKNIJY     \V.    (UiADY, 

effort  to  break  the  cordons  of  estrangement  between  the 
sections  as  may  justify  the  hop*-. 

The  South,  undemonstrative,  unprejudiced,  unyielding 
furthermore,  pleads  for  no  fairer  basis. 


HE  NEVER  OFFENDED. 


From  the  ' '  Washington  Chronicle. " 

HE  died  peacefully  at  his  home  in  Atlanta  on  Monday 
morning  at  forty  minutes  past  three  o'clock.  As  the  news 
Hashed  over  the  wires  it  imparted  a  thrill  of  anguish  to 
every  Southern  heart.  For  he  was  a  great  favorite  at  the 
South.  And  at  the  North  he  had  cause  to  be  proud  of  his 
reputation.  It  would  be  impossible  to  compare  Mr.  Grady 
with  any  man  who  has  lived.  His  character  was  unique 
and  so  was  his  work.  It  is  idle  and  senseless  talk  to  con- 
jecture what  his  future  might  have  been  if  he  had  liv»-d. 
His  course  is  run  and  his  life  is  finished,  as  completely  fin- 
ished as  if  he  had  lived  an  hundred  years  and  died.  What 
was  that  life  ?  Grady  was  a  big-hearted,  whole-souled  fel- 
low, a  man  of  the  people,  a  statesman  and  a  patriot.  His 
intellectual  attainments  and  all  fitted  him  for  the  grand 
and  brilliant  position  which  he  reached.  True  as  steel  to 
his  native  South,  he  was  able  to  conciliate  the  North.  A 
man  of  noble  impulses,  he  never  offended.  In  sober  truth 
he  ,was  a  great  man,  and  accomplished  a  great  work  which 
will  live  after  him  and  glorify  his  name. 

Were  a  star  quenched  on  high. 

Forever  would  its  light, 
Still  traveling  downward  from  the  sky, 

Shine  on  our  niorlnl  sight. 

So  when  a  great  man  dies, 

Ages  beyond  our  ken, 
The  light  he  leaves  behind  him  lies 

Upon  the  paths  of  men. 


111.-    LI1-K,     \\Kli 

THE  SOUTH   IN 


From  the  "  EUu-H<,n  Star." 

HENRY  W.  GKADY,  the  peerless  orator  and  true  patriot, 
has  been  called  to  join  the  silent  majority.  This  sad  intel- 
ligence reached  Klberton  last  Monday  morning,  by  private 
telegram,  and  there  was  a  gloom  cast  over  the  community 
unequaled  in  the  history  of  the  town.  Henry  Grady  was 
loved  and  admired  all  over  the  South,  but  nowhere  more 
dearly  than  in  this  section. 

It  seems  hard  that  this  brilliant  young  statesman  should 
have  been  cut  off  just  before  he  had  gained  the  goal,  just 
prior  to  when  he  would  have  written  his  name  among  that 
galaxy  of  eminent  men  who  have  gone  before  and  made  the 
world  better  for  having  lived  in  it.  If  Grady  had  lived  he 
would  have  carried  to  a  happy  ultimatum  the  purpose  he 
had  just  commenced  in  solving  the  vexatious  race  problem, 
and  in  doing  this  he  would  have  had  a  place  with  the 
names  of  Jefferson,  Washington,  Clay,  Calhoun,  and  Web- 
ster. 

Grady  was  a  great  man.  He  was  not  only  an  orator  of 
Hill-like  ability,  but  he  was  a  statesman.  His  writings 
and  speeches  for  years  were  well  able  and  well  panoplied 
to  grapple  with  and  treat  the  most  intricate  and  compli- 
cated questions  in  a  masterly  manner. 

His  recent  speech  in  Boston,  at  which  time  he  con- 
tracted the  cold  that  terminated  in  his  premature  death, 
was  particularly  and  singularly  forcible.  The  press  and 
people,  both  Xorth  and  South,  with  one  accord  pronounced 
it  one  of  the  ablest  papers  of  the  nineteenth  century,  and 
with  this  great  work  begun,  and  the  great  architect  th- 
dead,  it  is  difficult  to  conjecture  who  will  or  can  come  to  the 
front  and  linish  the  grand  and  noble  undertaking. 

Grady 's  lirst  and  greatest  love  was  Atlanta.  He  was 
like  an  inexhaustible  gold  mine  to  that  town,  and  the  Gate 
<  'it y  has  sustained  an  irreparable  Joss,  But  Atlanta's  con- 


I  IK  X  BY    W.    (1KADY, 

lines  were  too  contracted  for  a  heart  and  brain  like  his. 
HI-  loved  Georgia,  almost  like  lie  loved  his  mother,  and  for 
Georgia's  weal,  he  would  have  sacrificed  his  all. 

Georgia's  loss,  the  South' s  loss,  cannot  be  estimated. 

At  his  bier  we  bow  our  heads  in  profound  sorrow,  and 
were  it  so  that  we  could,  we  would  cull  the  whitest  flower 
in  the  whole  world  and  place  it  on  the  grave  of  this  the 
truest,  noblest  Georgian  of  them  all. 


STRICKEN  AT  ITS  ZENITH. 


From  the  "Greenesboro  Herald  and  Journal." 

ON  the  mild  Christmas  morning  the  heart  of  Georgia  is 
bowed  in  sorrow  over  the  death  of  her  favorite  son.  It 
seems,  indeed,  a  mockery  that  amidst  the  joys  and  festiv- 
ities of  the  Christmas  time,  the  dark  shadow  of  the  relent- 
less foe  of  man  should  intrude  his  presence  and  take  from 
our  land  one  who  was  its  brightest  hope,  its  strongest 
.support ! 

And  yet  it  is  true.  Henry  Grady  is  dead  !  The  orator, 
the  journalist,  the  poet  by  nature,  the  man  of  the  people, 
is  dead  !  We  cannot  realize  it.  So  bright  in  his  strong 
young  manhood  but  one  short  week  ago,  now  folded  in  the 
arms  of  death  !  A  greater  shock,  a  keener  sorrow  was 
never  crushed  upon  a  people  ! 

This  is  not  the  time,  in  the  shadow  of  the  grave  but  in 
the  brightness  of  his  glory,  to  speak  fully  of  him  that  is 
gone!  Our  pen  fails,  and  all  it  can  say  is  "Thou  has 
stricken  Thy  people,  O  God  !  and  in  Thy  wisdom  Thou  hast 
given  us  bitterness  to  drain!  Let  not  our  hearts  rebel 
airainst  Thee,  our  Lord  and  our  God  !  " 

The  death  which  has  come  to  Georgia  to-day  cannot  be 
measured  in  its  irreparable  loss.  A  week  ai:<>  the  South 
was  in  mourning  over  the  death  of  her  irreat  leader  !  Hut 
he  belonged  to  the  past,  and  while  the  sorrow  fell  deep,  yet 
we  realize  that  a  life  had  ended  which  had  filled  its  fullest 


HIS    J. IKK,     \VKITI  N<JS,     AM)    BPEECB 

mission.    But  in  the  death  of  Henry  Grady  the  South  lias 

lost  ;i  leader  of  to-day — an  active,  earnest,  true  711:111.  whose 
In-art,  hound  up  in  the  advancement  of  his  people,  was  but 
laying  brighter  and  fresher  and  truer  plans  for  their  pros- 
perity. To  every  heart  in  the  South  the  question  comes 
"  \Vlio  will  lead  us  now  (  \Vlio  will  defend  our  principles 
no\v  that  he  is  taken  from  us  (  "  And  out  of  th«'  blackn- •-- 
of  our  desolation  it  seems  that  no  star  shines  to  guide  us  ! 

It  is,  perhaps  well  that  the  last  effort  of  Mr.  Grady  was 
in  defense  of  our  institutions  and  in  support  of  the  princi- 
ples, motives  and  ambitions  of  his  people.  He  died  with 
the  gathering  halo  of  a  people's  love  clustering  about  him  ! 
He  went  to  death  with  a  defense  of  that  people  clinging  to 
his  lips  and  to  his  heart !  In  the  zenith  of  his  usefulness 
he  was  cut  down !  Why  ?  God  in  His  infinite  wisdom 
knows  best ! 

We  can  pay  no  tribute  to  the  memory  of  Henry  Grady 
greater  than  the  love  which  weeps  at  his  bier  this  morning. 
And  yet  the  writer  wrould  lay,  amidst  the  offerings  which 
fall  from  the  overflowing  hearts  of  thousands  to-day,  a  tiny 
tribute  to  his  memory.  He  was  our  friend,  wise  and  true 
and  earnest  in  his  counsels — pointing  out  that  the  true  end 
of  the  journalist  is  the  defense  and  advancement  of  his 
people.  As  a  journalist,  perhaps,  has  his  greatest  work 
been  done,  and  upon  the  heart  of  every  man  of  the  pen  he 
left  an  impression  that  his  vocation  is  ennobled  and  is  the 
grander  that  Henry  Grady  made  it  his  love.  And,  in  the 
shadow  of  death  will  come  this  consoling  thought.  That 
the  press,  which  was  his  power,  and  which  remains  as  the 
bulwark  of  the  people,  is  the  purer,  and  the  better,  and  tlte 
stronger  from  the  principles  which  Henry  Grady  inculcated 
in  ir.  To  carry  out  that  work,  which  has  fallen  from  his 
hands  in  death,  should  move  the  heart  of  every  journalist, 
and  when  its  fullest  fruition  has  come,  then  will  the  crown 
upon  the  fame  of  Henry  Grady  shine  the  brighter  ! 

I'eao- to  the  ^i-eat  man  gathered  to  his  reward  !  The 
future  will  crown  his  memory  with  the  bright  flowers  which 
will  come  as  the  fruition  of  his  hopes  and  of  his  life-work  ! 


596  HENRY    W.    GKADY, 

THE  SOUTHLAND  MOURNS. 


From  the  "Griffin  Morning  Call." 

THE  brilliant  young  editor  of  the  Atlanta 
entered  into  rest  eternal  and  closed  an  earth-life  remarkable 
for  splendor  at  3:40  o'clock  yesterday  morning.  His  brief 
career  reflects  not  only  glory  upon  his  name,  but  also  crowns 
with  unique  distinction  the  high  profession  of  journalism. 
A  noble  representative  of  the  grand  old  State  of  Georgia, 
the  lustre  of  his  life-work  was  reflected  upon  the  common- 
wealth he  served  and  to  whose  honor  he  consecrated  the 
ripeness  of  his  learning,  his  eloquence  and  his  patriotism. 

His  harp  hangs  now  mute  upon  the  willows  !  No  more 
shall  the  soul  and  intellect  of  the  thoughtful  North  or 
South,  in  New  York,  New  England,  Texas  or  Georgia,  be 
stirred  to  the  depths  by  his  impassioned  words  or  impressed 
by  his  unanswerable  logic.  "  The  silver  cord  is  loosed,  the 
golden  bowl  is  broken."  But  the  music  his  harp  evoked 
is  not  dead  and  shall  long  linger  a  sweet  song  in  many 
hearts,  and  his  works  do  follow  him. 

He  was  born  in  Athens,  Ga.,  in  1851,  and  though  a  man 
of  well  ripened  powers,  had  not  reached  that  prime  when  a 
strong  man's  capacity  for  labor  is  most  highly  tested. 

He  was  educated  at  the  State  University,  and  afterward 
pursued  a  post  graduate  course  at  the  University  of  Vir- 
ginia, where  so  many  noble  characters  have  been  molded. 

Here  the  orator  and  scholar  grew  and  nature's  rare  gifts 
were  fused  and  refined  in  the  crucible  of  mental  discipline. 
The  studies  which  specially  attracted  him  and  in  which 
he  excelled,  were  Greek,  Anglo-Saxon,  history  and  belles- 
letters.  Thus,  evidently  a  most  copious  vocabulary  was 
created  and  the  mind  stored  with  fertile  illustrations  in  the 
department  of  history  and  general  literature.  In  the  happy 
use  of  words,  in  graceful  rhetoric  he  was  not  surpassed  by 
any  American  of  his  day.  Roscoe  Conkling  or  Col.  Inger- 
soll  might  be  compared  to  him,  but  the  former  had  not 


His    MFK,    WHITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  597 

Grady's  tact,  neither  his  full  vocabulary,  and  never  treated 
the  difficult  and  delicate  topics  Grady  handled.  And 
Ingersoll,  though  having  remarkable  power  of  language 
and  an  accomplished  rhetorician,  had  not  the  logical  mind 
of  the  brilliant  young  Georgian,  and  tinges  his  best  efforts 
with  bitterness  and  cant. 

Grady  was  natural,  even-tempered,  generous,  warm- 
hearted. His  end  came  after  the  greatest  effort  of  his  life. 
His  Boston  speech  will  do  an  inestimable  benefit  to  the 
South  at  a  time  when,  under  President  Harrison,  the  bitter 
and  partisan  spirit  of  the  Republicans  was  leavening  much 
of  the  thought  of  the  North.  Mr.  Grady  addressed  North- 
ern people  from  the  home  of  Phillips  and  Simmer,  and  his 
words  have  rung  from  Boston  to  San  Francisco.  His  great 
speech  was  susceptible  to  no  criticism  for  taste,  for  loyalty 
to  our  convictions,  for  impressive  oratory  or  convincing 
argument.  His  facts  and  his  logic  are  as  strong  as  his 
word  painting. 

His  beautiful  tribute  to  the  land  which  "lies  far  South" 
is  a  literary  gem  not  destined  alone  to  stir  the  hearts  at  the 
time  of  its  utterance.  It  will  live  for  its  poetry,  its  tender 
sentiment  and  its  reality. 

If  our  friends  across  Dixie's  mythical  line  are  but  moved 
to  do  justice  to  a  long  suffering  people,  and  trust  us  for 
loyalty  to  settle  our  peculiar  problems,  Grady  has  not  lived 
in  vain  and  will  be  the  great  apostle  of  his  age. 

Lay  him  gently  to  rest  then,  Georgians,  in  this  sweet 
Christmas  time,  while  the  bells  are  chiming  the  notes  of  his 
Savior's  birth,  and  cover  his  grave  with  holly,  mistletoe, 
and  ivy,  until  the  Master  comes  in  glorious  majesty  to  judge 
the  world,  and  earth  and  sea  give  up  their  dead. 


THE  "CONSTITUTION" 

AND    ITS    WORK. 


^iifofesi^''^  'fi' 


ATLANTA  CONSTITUTION   BUILDING. 


THE  "CONSTITUTION"  AND  ITS  WORK. 


r  I  THE  Atlanta  Constitution  came  into  being  in  the  seeth- 
JL  ing  chaos  of  reconstruction.  The  name  suggests  the 
issue  of  which  it  was  born  and  the  cause  which  gave  it  life 
and  strength  at  the  beginning  of  its  career.  Georgia  was 
being  reconstructed  under  military  supervision,  against 
the  will  of  a  vast  majority  of  the  people,  and  there  was  no 
journal  published  in  Atlanta  which  gave  adequate  expres- 
sion to  the  sentiment  of  a  million  people.  The  old  Intel- 
ligencer, which  had  been  the  clarion  of  war  times,  was  no 
longer  equal  to  the  emergency.  It  had  bravely  breasted 
the  storm  of  war,  dodging  about  between  bomb-shells  and 
issuing  forth  defiant,  one  day  in  one  town  and  one  day  in 
another,  sometimes  even  setting  up  its  press  in  a  box  car. 
But  for  the  more  trying  times  of  reconstruction  it  was  not 
adequate.  The  fiery  tone  and  dauntless  attitude  were  gone 
and  it  began  to  counsel  for  the  things  that  were.  While 
the  people  were  idolizing  Ben  Hill  for  his  superb  defiance 
and  applauding  the  unreconstructed  and  unterrified 
Toombs,  there  was  no  paper  to  voice  the  deep  and  uncon- 
querable sentiment  against  reconstruction  and  for  the 
re-establishment  of  the  State  constitution. 

It  was  then  that  the  Constitution  appeared.  When 
Messrs.  W.  A.  Hemphill  and  J.  H.  Anderson  bought  a 
little  sheet  called  Public  Opinion,  and  put  Colonel  Carey 
Styles  in  charge  as  editor,  lie  named  it  Tlie  Constitution, 
and  the  name  became  its  shibboleth  and  its  issue.  The 
editor  was  a  bold  and  fearless  writer  and  a  fiery  and  im- 
petuous orator.  His  editorials  glowed  with  defiance  of  the 
reconstructionists,  and  his  speeches  were  iridescent  with 
burning  denunciation.  Writing  and  speaking  on  the  side 
of  the  people,  he -made  the  paper  immensely  popular,  and 

601 


lIli.NliY     U.    <;KAI>Y. 

the  enterprise  of  the  proprietors  kept  it  rolling  on  the  crest 
of  the  tide. 

Prom  th»'  first  the  Constitution,  was  :i  more  enterprising 
iit-us-gatherer  than  any  of  its  contemporaries.  It  was  the 
first  to  employ  special  correspondents  in  all  parts  of  i  In- 
State  and  the  South.  The  system  which  has  since  become 
comprehensive  and  well-nigh  perfect  was  then  in  its  begin- 
ning, but  it  was  something  new  in  Georgia,  and  attracted 
attention.  It  was  in  this  way  that  Mr.  Grady  was  em- 
ployed to  go  with  the  press  excursion  which  passed  through 
North  Georgia,  looking  and  writing  to  the  development  of 
the  resources  of  the  State,  and  his  "King  Hans"  letters 
on  that  trip  gave  the  first  news  from  the  important  points 
of  the  excursion. 

In  those  early  days  the  Constitution  was  not  without 
literary  attractions.  The  associate  editor  with  Colonel 
Styles  was  Mayor  J.  R.  Barrick,  a  genial  gentleman,  much 
beloved  by  his  acquaintances  and  known  to  the  public  as  a 
scholar  and  poet.  He  had  been  a  protege  of  George  D. 
Prentice,  who  had  recognized  in  the  young  man  literary 
talent  of  no  common  order. 

In  those  days  editorials  were  of  the  first  importance. 
The  State  was  being  reconstituted,  and  great  questions  that 
went  down  to  the  foundations  of  government  were  being 
discussed.  The  orators  of  the  day  were  Ben  Hill,  Toombs, 
Alexander  Stephens,  and  scores  of  lesser  but  not  incon- 
siderable lights.  Speeches  were  matters  of  vital  impor- 
tance to  newspapers  and  the  public,  and  the  leading  orators 
were  always  stenographically  reported.  The  modern  syn- 
opsis would  not  then  suffice.  There  were  giants  in  those 
days,  and  the  people  hung  upon  their  words  ;  their  utter- 
ances must  be  given  in  full.  Editorials  must  rise  to  the 
same  level,  and  great  questions  must  be  handled  with  the 
same  dignity  and  earnestness.  Men  were  not  too  busy  to 
think  and  read,  and  they  demanded  mental  pabulum  that 
was  strong  and  rich.  Talent  was  at  a  premium,  and  its 
services  easily  commanded  good  pay.  The  own. -is  of  the 
Constitution  were  the  first  to  realize  the  priceless  value  of 


His    I.IFK,     \VKITINGS,    AND    >  i'i;i:<  HES. 

Mr.  Grady's  genius,  and  when  he  was  y<4  a  college  boy 
underage,  Mr.  Ilrmphill,  who  had  lived  in  Athens,  where 
Mr.  Grady  grew  up,  made  his  guardian  a  proposition  to 
buy  an  interest  in  the  Constitution  for  Mr.  Grady  on  con- 
dition that  he  should  take  the  position  of  managing  editor. 
From  then  until  Captain  llowell  employed  him  in  1876, 
the  Constitution  never  lost  sight  of  Mr.  Grady.  While 
attending  the  University  of  Virginia  he  contributed  to  the 
paper,  and  on  his  return  he  was  engaged  by  the  editor  to 
represent  the  Constitution  on  the  press  excursion  referred 
to  above. 

The  mechanical  appliances  of  Southern  newspapers  at 
that  time  were  vastly  out  of  proportion  to  the  matter  then 
carried.  The  Constitution  was  born  and  swaddled  in  a 
store-room  on  Alabama  Street.  It  was  a  long  room  with  a 
skylight,  and  printer's  cases  were  arranged  along  the  wall 
on  either  side.  In  front  was  the  business  office,  and  in  one 
corner  a  little  room  was  partitioned  off  for  the  editors. 
There  was  a  freemasonry  between  printers  and  editors, 
and  the  whole  force  glowed  with  enthusiasm  for  the  cause 
which  was  epitomized  in  the  paper's  name. 

After  reconstruction  became  a  fact  the  State  swarmed 
with  aliens,  and  the  people  were  goaded  to  fury  under 
negro  and  carpet-bag  government.  The  Capitol  was  infested 
with  unknown  men  suddenly  thrust  into  power,  and  they 
carried  extravagant  measures  with  a  high  hand.  A  Repub- 
lican Governor  was  in  office,  and  the  venerable  Secretary  of 
State,  Colonel  N.  C.  Barnet,  lately  deceased,  had  gone  out, 
carrying  with  him  the  great  seal  of  the  State,  which  he 
refused  to  allow  affixed  to  any  official  act  of  men  ushered 
into  office  by  the  military  authorities.  The  State  was 
involved  in  lottery  schemes  and  loaded  down  with  railroad 
bonds  on  which  Treasurer  Angier.  a  sturdy  Republican,  had 
refused  to  put  his  signature.  The  sessions  of  the  Legisla- 
ture were  held  in  a  great  opera  house  sold  to  the  State  by 
private  parties  for  an  enormous  price.  In  the  building  was 
a  restaurant,  confectionery  shop,  and  velocipede  rink.  It 
was  a  scene  decried,  and  the  proceedings  of  the  Legislature 


604  IIKXHY    W.    ORADY, 

were  daily  denounced  by  the  press  and  people.  Among 
the  boldest  and  most  scathing  critics  of  those  disgraceful 
transactions  was  the  Constitution,  and  its  editor  in  his 
public  speeches  smote  the  participants  hip  and  thigh.  The 
fight  was  on  for  the  redemption  of  the  State,  and  it  was 
wni^'d  without  ceasing  till  the  yoke  was  thrown  off  and  a 
Democratic  Governor  was  elected  in  1872.  In  all  that  iight 
the  Constitution  was  the  leading  newspaper,  and  from  the 
beginning  the  battle  was  waged  with  the  uncompromising 
fervor  that  had  characterized  its  opposition  to  the  recon- 
structionists.  In  both  these  contests  it  was  with  the  peo- 
ple, and  in  its  columns  they  found  free  and  full  expression. 
The  bitterness  of  those  days  has  died  out,  and  many  of  the 
sturdiest  opponents  have  become  friends  ;  differences  of 
judgment  have  long  since  been  allowed  admissible,  but  the 
friendships  cemented  in  the  heat  of  those  contests  are  deep 
and  abiding,  and  for  its  gallant  services  then  the  Constitu- 
tion is  still  endeared  to  the  people  of  Georgia. 

With  the  redemption  of  the  State  from  negro  and  carpet- 
bag rule,  there  was  no  local  political  issue  of  transcen- 
dent importance.  The  State  was  safe,  and  people  began  to 
look  about  and  take  account  of  what  was  left  from  the 
wreck  of  war  and  reconstruction.  The  country  was  in  a 
deplorable  condition,  and  its  rehabilitation  almost  a  work 
of  despair.  In  the  midst  Atlanta  had  begun  to  rise  out  of 
the  ashes,  and  the  brave  spirits  that  gathered  here  had 
already  made  a  name  for  the  new  city,  which  began  to  be 
looked  upon  as  something  more  than  a  Phoanix  ;  but  all 
around  was  desolation.  The  plantations  were  in  axleplora- 
ble  condition,  fences  were  rotting,  and  houses  were  going 
to  decay.  The  first  flush  times  of  peace  and  greenbacks 
had  passed,  and  the  panic  of  1873  left  every  interest 
depressed.  It  was  then  that  the  effects  of  war  and  waste 
were  fully  felt,  and  then  that  the  stoutest  hearts  were  tried. 
Labor  was  restless  and  hard  to  control,  the  planter  was  out 
of  funds  and  interest  was  high,  real  estate  outside  a  few 
favored  localities  was  depreciating,  and  the  farmers  were 
almost  at  the  point  of  desperation. 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  605 

In  all  this  hopelessness  there  were  a  few  hopeful  spirits, 
here  and  there  one  that  could  chirp.  The  hot  days  of  poli- 
tics were  past  and  the  newspapers  must  look  toother  fields. 
The  Constitution  was  the  first  to  look  to  the  development 
of  the  State's  resources  as  the  new  opportunity  for  journal- 
istic enterprise.  This  was  a  reconstruction  in  which  the 
people  could  take  part ;  the  Constitution  had  fought  the 
one,  it  would  lead  the  other.  From  that  time  until  now 
development  has  been  the  Constitution's  most  important 
mission,  and  in  that  field  its  most  earnest  efforts  have  been 
put  forth.  Constructive  journalism  was  a  new  thing,  and 
the  Constitution  became  the  pioneer.  Men  might  differ  on 
matters  of  public  policy,  but  no  one  could  afford  to  differ 
with  a  newspaper  devoted  to  building  up  its  environment, 
its  city,  State,  and  section. 

Here  in  Atlanta  the  effect  of  this  new  policy  was  first 
felt,  and  here  are  its  richest  results  ;  but  helpfulness  is 
contagious,  and  everywhere  the  Constitution  touched  there 
was  a  better  feeling,  and  on  account  of  that  feeling  it 
touched  farther  and  farther.  Coupling  with  this  construct- 
ive policy  a  news  system  of  unprecedented  thoroughness, 
the  Constitution  became  inseparably  connected  with  the 
life  of  the  people.  It  was  in  touch  with  them  everywhere 
in  Georgia  and  the  surrounding  States,  and  finally  its  benef- 
icent influence  spread  throughout  the  whole  South,  inspir- 
ing, encouraging,  building  up.  While  some  old  statesmen 
were  conducting  in  its  columns  a  discussion  as  to  whether 
Georgia  was  growing  richer  or  poorer,  the  policy  of  repair 
was  unremittingly  pursued  :  and  before  the  death  of  Alex- 
ander Stephens,  who  had  cried  out  that  the  State  was 
going  to  decay,  the  signs  of  new  life  had  already  appeared 
and  people  began  to  talk  about  a  New  South. 

The  New  South  sprang  from  the  scions  of  the  old,  and 
everywhere  Confederate  soldiers  were  leaders  in  this 
upbuilding.  While  they  cherished  the  relics  of  by-gone 
valor  and  continued  to  keep  the  graves  of  their  dead  com- 
rades green,  they  looked  hopefully  to  the  futun>  and  strove 
to  lay  the  foundations  of  new  greatness  and  future  influ- 


HENRY    W.    GIIADY, 

ence  in  the  restored  Union.  This  was  the  key-note  of  the 
most  enlightened  press,  led  by  the  Constitution,  whose 
editor,  Capt.  Howell,  was  a  Confederate  soldier. 

There  came  an  interesting  period  of  rivalry  in  this  good 
work  when  Mr.  Grady  dashed  into  the  arena.  With  the 
impulsive  Alston  he  took  charge  of  the  Atlanta  Herald  in 
1873,  and  for  two  years  it  was  warm  in  Atlanta.  Colonel 
J.  W.  Avery,  who  succeeded  Barrick  as  editor  of  the  Con- 
stitution, had  gone  over  to  the  Herald,  and  Colonel  E.  Y. 
Clarke,  who  had  bought  out  Mr.  Anderson,  was  editor  of 
the  Constitution,  while  Mr.  Hemphill  remained  business 
manager,  a  position  he  has  filled  without  intermission  since 
the  birth  of  the  paper.  He  and  Colonel  Clarke  had  already 
built  the  old  Constitution  building  on  Broad  Street.  Mr. 
Grady  was  making  the  Herald  one  of  the  brightest  papers 
ever  published  in  Atlanta,  and  there  were  several  other 
dailies  in  the  field.  The  old  Intelligencer  had  passed  away, 
and  in  its  place  had  come  the  Sun,  a  Democratic  paper 
edited  by  Alexander  Stephens.  The  New  Era,  a  schol- 
arly Republican  paper,  was  edited  by  Colonel  William  L. 
Scruggs,  now  Minister  Plenipotentiary  to  Venezuela,  and 
The  True  Georgian,  another  Republican  paper,  was  edited 
by  Sam  Bard,  a  rugged  product  of  those  times.  When  the 
Herald  came  into  this  field  there  were  five  morning  dailies 
in  Atlanta.  From  the  first  the  contest  for  supremacy  was 
between  the  Constitution  and  the  Htrald.  With  Georgia 
Republicanism,  the  Republican  papers  passed  out  of  exist- 
ence, and  the  Sun  soon  followed,  leaving  only  the  Consti- 
tution and  the  Herald.  In  1875  the  fight  between  the  two 
papers  became  desperate.  There  was  no  morning  train  on 
the  Macon  and  Western  road,  and  both  papers  wanted  to 
reach  middle  Georgia.  The  result  was  that  both  ran  spe- 
cial engines  every  morning  from  Atlanta  to  Macon,  a  dis- 
tance of  104  miles.  The  expense  of  these  engines  absorbed 
the  entire  receipts  of  both  papers,  and  left  them  to  borrow 
money  to  pay  ordinary  expenses.  The  engines  carried  not 
over  a  thousand  papers. 

During  the  month  that  this  fight  for  existence  endured 


ins  LIFE,   WKITINCS,  AND  SPKKCHKS.  607 

there  were  many  exciting  scenes.  Both  papers  went  to 
press  about  four  o'clock,  and  it  was  a  race  to  the  depot 
every  morning.  The  paper  which  got  there  first  was  given 
the  main  line  first,  and  the  day's  sales  depended  largely  on 
the  quickness  of  the  cart-boys. 

The  contest  was  spirited  but  short.  Both  papers  were 
heavily  involved,  and  it  was  a  question  of  endurance. 
The  Constitution  had  almost  reached  the  end  of  its  row 
when  a  mortgage  was  foreclosed  on  the  Herald.  The  Con- 
stitution survived  with  a  heavy  debt.  In  1872  Mr.  N.  P. 
T.  Finch  had  bought  an  interest  in  the  paper,  and  after  the 
failure  of  the  Herald  Mr.  Clarke  retired  and  Mr.  Finch 
became  editor.  In  1876  Captain  E.  P.  Ho  well,  who  had 
had  some  experience  in  journalism  as  city  editor  of  the 
Intelligencer  in  its  most  vigorous  days,  and  had  since  accu- 
mulated some  property  in  the  practice  of  law,  bought  with 
his  brother  Albert  a  half  interest  in  the  Constitution,  and 
took  the  position  of  editor  in  chief,  which  he  has  held  ever 
since.  About  the  first  thing  Captain  Howell  did  was  to 
employ  Mr.  Grady,  and  the  next  day  he  secured  Joel 
Chandler  Harris.  With  this  incomparable  trio,  associated 
with  Mr.  Finch,  the  paper  began  editorially  a  new  life. 
The  remnant  of  debts  incurred  in  the  fight  with  the  Herald 
was  soon  wiped  out,  and  from  that  day  the  Constitution 
has  enjoyed  unbroken  prosperity. 

Strongly  equipped  all  around,  the  Constitution  enlarged 
and  intensified  its  operations.  The  campaign  of  1876  was 
on,  and  Mr.  Grady  was  sent  to  Florida,  where  he  unearthed 
and  exposed  the  ugly  transaction  by  which  the  electoral 
vote  of  that  State  was  given  to  Hayes.  The  whole  nation 
hung  upon  the  result  with  breathless  interest,  and  news- 
pap.-rs  were  willing  to  pay  any  price  for  the  news.  The 
Constitution  and  the  New  York  Herald  were  the  first  to 
nnearth  the  fraud.  On  such  occasions  the  Constitution 
always  had  the  news,  and  soon  came  to  be  looked  upon  as 
the  most  enterprising  paper  in  the  South. 

With  the  inauguration  of  Hayes  the  South  turned  away 
from  politics  in  disgust,  and  then  it  was  that  the  Constilu- 


C.OS  IIENKY    \V.     GKADY, 

tion  gave  a  new  cue  to  the  efforts  of  the  people  and  turned 
their  slumbering  energy  to  the  development  of  Georgia  and 
the  South. 

Mr.  Grady,  whose  Washington  letters  had  made  him  a 
national  reputation,  turned  his  energies  and  his  heart  to 
development.  He  went  about  among  the  people  looking 
into  their  concerns  and  making  much  of  every  incipient 
enterprise.  In  the  agricultural  regions  he  wrote  letters 
that  were  pastoral  poems  in  prose,  strangely  mixed  with  an 
intoxicating  combination  of  facts  and  figures.  When  he 
wrote  about  Irish  potatoes  his  city  editor,  Josiah  Carter, 
now  editor  of  the  Atlanta  Journal,  planted  several  acres  as 
a  speculation  ;  when  he  told  of  the  profits  in  truck  farm- 
ing there  was  a  furore  in  the  rural  districts  ;  and  when  he 
got  out  on  the  stock  farms  and  described  the  mild-eyed 
Jerseys,  the  stockmen  went  wild,  and  the  herds  were 
increased,  while  calves  sold  for  fabulous  prices. 

Wherever  he  went  his  pen  touched  on  industry,  and  as 
if  by  magic  it  grew  and  prospered.  Fruits,  melons,  farms, 
minerals,  everything  that  was  in  sight,  he  wrote  about ; 
and  everything  he  wrote  about  became  famous.  It  was  in 
this  way  that  the  Constitution's  work  was  done.  The 
people  were  wooed  into  enterprises  of  every  sort,  and  most 
of  them  prospered. 

Mr.  Grady 's  work  had  attracted  the  attention  of  promi- 
nent men  everywhere,  and  in  1880  Cyrus  W.  Field,  of  New 
York,  lent  him  $20,000  to  buy  a  fourth  interest  in  the  Con- 
stitution. Mr.  Field  has  stated  since  Mr.  Grady' s  death 
that  he  never  had  cause  to  regret  the  loan,  as  it  was 
promptly  repaid  and  had  been  the  means  of  enlarging  Mr. 
Grady's  work.  Mr.  Grady  bought  250  shares,  or  825,000 
of  the  $100,000  of  Constitution  stock,  from  Messrs.  Howell, 
Hemphill,  and  Finch,  who  had  previously  purchased  the 
interest  of  Albert  Howell.  The  stock  was  then  equally 
owned  by  Captain  E.  P.  Howell,  Mr.  W.  A.  Hemphill,  Mr. 
N.  P.  T.  Finch,  and  Mr.  Grady.  The  staff  was  then  reor- 
ganized, with  Captain  Howell  as  editor-in-chit  I',  Mr- 
Grady,  managing  editor,  and  Mr.  Finch  and  Joel  Chandler 


JUS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  609 

Harris  as  associate  editors.  Mr.  Wallace  P.  Reed  was 
added  in  1883,  and  Mr.  Clark  Howell,  now  managing  edi- 
tor, came  on  in  1884  as  night  editor.  When  he  was  pro- 
moted to  be  assistant  managing  editor  in  January,  1888,  Mr. 
P.  J.  Moran,  who  had  been  with  the  Constitution  since  the 
suspension  of  the  Sun  in  the  early  seventies,  succeeded  (o 
the  position  of  night  editor.  In  1886  Mr.  Finch  retired, 
and  his  interest  was  shared  by  Messrs.  E.  P.  Howell, 
Hemphill,  Grady,  and  Clark  Howell,  and  two  new  proprie- 
tors, Messrs.  S.  M.  Inraan,  of  Atlanta,  and  James  Swann. 
The  Constitution  has  held  on  its  staff  at  different  times 
many  of  the  most  brilliant  writers  in  the  country,  among 
them  Sam  Small,  Henry  Richardson,  editor  of  the  Macon 
Telegraph,  Bill  Arp,  Betsy  Hamilton,  T.  DeWitt  Talmage, 
and  a  number  of  others.  The  editor  of  the  Atlanta  Even- 
ing Journal  graduated  from  the  city  editorship  of  the 
Constitution  in  1887,  and  was  succeeded  by  Mr.  J.  K.  Ohl, 
who  still  has  charge  of  the  city  department.  Mr.  R.  A. 
Hemphill  had  acquired  some  stock  and  was  in  the  business 
department.  The  Constitution  under  the  management  of 
Mr.  W.  J.  Campbell  has  built  up  a  large  publishing  busi- 
ness and  now  does  the  printing  for  the  State.  The  weekly 
circulation  is  in  charge  of  Mr.  Edward  White,  who  has  an 
army  of  agents  in  all  parts  of  the  Union.  The  western 
edition  in  the  last  month  has  grown  to  large  proportions. 
In  1883  the  Constitution  had  outgrown  its  three-story 
building  on  Broad  Street,  and  the  company  bought  the 
present  site  on  the  corner  of  Alabama  and  Forsyth,  and 
began  the  erection  of  the  new  Constitution  building.  It 
was  completed  in  August,  1884,  at  a  cost  of  860,000  including 
the  site,  and  the  $30,000  perfecting  press  and  other  machi- 
nery ran  the  whole  cost  of  the  plant  up  to  $125,000.  The 
site  is  the  best  for  its  purpose  in  the  city.  In  the  heart  of 
»the'town  and  on  an  eminence  above  most  other  points,  the 
editorial  rooms  on  the  fourth  and  fifth  floors  overlook  the 
city  and  the  undulating  country  for  miles  around.  On  the 
north,  historic  Kennesaw  rises,  a  grim  monument  of  valor, 
and  the  white  spires  at  its  foot  are  visible  to  the  naked  eye. 


610  HENRY   W.    GRADY, 

On  the  south,  Stone  Mountain  raises  its  granite  dome  fifteen 
miles  away,  and  to  the  northeast  the  eye  readies  the  first 
foothills  of  that  bracing  region  of  the  moonshiners  where 
the  Blue  Ridge  breaks  up  and  makes  a  Switzerland  in 
Georgia. 

In  November,  1884,  the  Constitution  christened  its  new 
building  with  the  first  news  of  Cleveland's  election.  The 
Legislature  then  in  session  filled  the  Constitution  building 
at  night,  eagerly  and  enthusiastically  watching  the  returns. 
When  at  last  one  morning  the  result  was  definitely  known, 
a  joyous  party  went  from  the  Constitution  building  to  the 
Capitol,  where  occurred  the  memorable  scene  when  Mr. 
Grady  adjourned  the  Legislature. 

A  great  crowd  had  collected  about  the  Constitution 
office,  and  when  at  eleven  o'clock  A.M.  it  was  known 
beyond  a  doubt  that  Cleveland  was  elected,  a  brass  band 
was  brought  up,  and  Mr.  Grady  and  Captain  Ho  well 
headed  the  procession.  The  march  through  town  was 
hilarious  and  exultant.  The  crowd  carried  a  huge  can  of 
red  paint  which  was  lavishly  applied  to  sidewalks  and 
prominent  objects  on  the  line  of  march.  When  the  pro- 
cession passed  up  Marietta  Street  its  enthusiasm  led  it  into 
the  Capitol  where  the  Legislature  was  in  session.  Leading 
the  head  of  the  procession  to  the  hall  of  the  House  of  Rep- 
resentatives, Mr.  Grady  passed  by  the  door-keeper  into  the 
main  aisle.  Colonel  Lucius  Lamar,  of  Pulaski,  a  man  of 
imposing  presence,  was  in  the  chair.  His  long  hair  fell 
over  his  shoulders,  and  his  bearing  was  magnificent. 
Advancing  down  the  aisle  Mr.  Grady  paused  and,  in  the 
stately  formula  of  the  door-keeper,  cried,  with  the  most 
imposing  and  dramatic  manner  : 

"  Mr.  Oj.     "  er  ;  A  message  from  the  American  people." 

Catching  tne  spirit  of  the  invasion,  the  dignified  Speaker 
said  solemnly : 

"  Let  it  be  received." 

With  that  Mr.  Grady  pressed  up  to  the  speaker's  chair, 
;uid  quickly  wresting  the  gavel  from  his  hand,  cried  in 
imposing  and  exultant  tones  : 


HIS    LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  611 

"In  the  name  of  God  and  the  American  people,  I 
declare  this  House  adjourned  to  celebrate  the  election  of 
Grover  Cleveland,  the  first  Democratic  President  in  twenty- 
four  years." 

At  this  there  was  a  whirlwind  of  applause,  and  the 
House  broke  up  with  the  wildest  enthusiasm. 

Mr.  Grady  often  said  that  he  and  Oliver  Cromwell  were 
the  only  two  men  who  ever  adjourned  a  legislative  body  in 
that  style. 

From  the  occupation  of  the  new  building  the  Constitu- 
tion took  on  tremendous  growth.  Mr.  Grady  had  con- 
ceived an  idea  of  making  the  greatest  weekly  in  America, 
and  since  1881  that  edition  had  grown  prodigiously. 
When  it  was  enlarged  to  a  twelve-page  form  in  1881,  it  had 
only  7200  subscribers.  Special  contributors  were  engaged, 
special  correspondents  were  sent  out,  and  a  picket  line  of 
local  agents  was  thrown  out  all  over  the  South,  while 
sample  copies  were  doing  missionary  work  in  the  north- 
west. The  first  year  the  circulation  jumped  to  20,000,  the 
next  to  35,0.00,  and  when  the  Constitution  went  into  its 
new  building  in  1884  the  50,000  mark  was  reached.  In 
1887  the  weekly  passed  100,000,  receiving  20,000  subscribers 
in  December.  In  December,  1889,  while  Mr.  Grady  was  in 
Boston,  the  paper  broke  the  record  with  20,000  subscribers 
in  one  day.  During  the  month  27,000  subscriptions  were 
received,  and  now  the  circulation  is  146,000,  of  which 
140,000  are  subscribers  and  about  6000  sample  copies. 

The  inspiring  and  reconstructive  work  of  the  Constitu- 
tion culminated  in  the  Cotton  Exposition  of  1881.  The 
whole  country  was  warmed  by  a  wave  of  prosperity  in 
1880,  and  the  people  of  the  South,  invigorated  and 
enthused,  entered  heartily  into  the  purposes  of  the  Exposi- 
tion. When  they  came  to  see  that  wonderful  collection  of 
resources  it  was  a  revelation  and  an  inspiration  to  them. 
The  ball  was  in  motion,  and  through  the  decade  it  has 
rolled  with  steadily  increasing  momentum.  The  develop- 
ment of  the  South  has  already  gone  beyond  the  expecta- 
tion of  the  most  sanguine,  and  already  this  region  has  a 


IIK.NKY     W.    (,KAI)y, 

linn  hold  on  iron  and  cotton,  the  two  greatest  industries  on 
the  continent. 

Over  all  this  helpful  and  inspiring  work  Captain  Howell, 
the  editor  in  chief,  had  a  watchful  eye.  His  heart  and 
1  ur.se  were  enlisted,  and  he  backed  up  the  vigorous 
work  of  his  paper  with  earnest  personal  work.  He  was 
concerned  in  the  leading  enterprises  as  organizer  and  sub- 
scriber to  the  stock.  In  the  flush  of  enthusiasm  he  \\ 
balance-wheel.  He  added  the  safe  counsel  of  a  mature 
business  man  to  the  enthusiasm  of  his  more  youthful  part- 
ner, and  then  backed  him  up  with  money  and  prodigious 
energy. 

The  Kimball  House  burned  down  one  Sunday  in  August, 
1883,  and  immediately  the  Constitution  set  to  work  to  raise 
the  immense  sum  needed  to  replace  the  magnificent  hotel. 
It  had  been  the  pride  of  Atlanta.  Conventions  and  dis- 
tinguished visitors  from  all  sections  of  the  country  had 
been  entertained  there.  It  was  Atlanta's  reception  room, 
and  was  a  necessity.  It  must  be  replaced,  and  the  Consti- 
tution threw  itself  in  the  breach.  Captain  Howell  became 
president  of  the  new  Kimball  House  Company,  and  bent 
himself  to  the  enormous  task  of  raising  $650,000.  The 
whole  town  was  enthused,  and  Mr.  Kimball' s  magic  ser- 
vices were  again  called  into  requisition.  On  the  12th  of 
August,  1884,  exactly  one  year  from  the  day  the  old  build- 
ing was  burned,  the  directors  of  the  new  Kimball  House 
took  tea  on  the  fifth  floor,  and  within  six  months  the  mag- 
nificent structure  was  completed.  At  the  grand  banquet 
which  celebrated  the  event  Captain  Howell  presided,  and 
Mi-.  Grady  was  one  of  the  principal  speakers. 

In  all  this  development  and  upbuilding  the  other  owners 
of  the  Constitution  backed  up  its  work  with  personal 
effort  and  financial  support.  Mr.  Hemphill  and  Mr.  Imnan 
are  stockholders  in  almost  everything  about  Atlanta,  and 
Mr.  Swann,  though  now  a  resident  of  New  York,  continues 
to  invest  his  money  largely  in  Atlanta  enterprises. 

Perhaps  the  greatest  service  the  Constitution  ever  did 
for  Atlanta  and  the  State  was  its  work  for  the  location  of 


HIS  Lin:,    WIMTIX<;S    AXI>  613 

the  Capitol  here.  The  Constitutional  Convention  of  1877 
left  the  question  of  location  with  the  people  and  the  election 
was  held  that  fall.  A  vigorous  campaign  was  precipitated 
almost  from  the  adjournment  of  the  Convention.  Atlanta 
was  in  ^reat  straits.  Tin-  Capitol  had  been  removed  there 
from  Milledgeville  by  the  Republicans,  and  the  rank  odor 
of  reconstruction  times  and  of  negro  and  carpet-bag  rule 
hung  over  the  spot  where  their  disgraceful  transactions  had 
been  enacted.  The  glorious  memories  of  the  past  were 
associated  with  Milledgeville,  where  the  great  men  of  the 
century  had  been  in  training.  Macon,  Augusta,  Savannah, 
and  the  press  of  Southern  Georgia  sought  to  array  these 
cherished  associations  against  Atlanta,  the  dashing  new 
city  that  had  the  audacity  to  set  new  patterns  and  do 
things  in  her  own  vigorous  way.  Something  had  to  be 
done ;  enormous  obstacles  had  to  be  overcome,  and  Atlanta 
resolved  to  do  the  work.  The  city  council  met  and  decided 
to  spare  no  pains  or  expense  to  get  the  Capitol.  A  general 
campaign  committee  was  organized  with  Captain  J.  W. 
English  at  its  head,  and  the  work  from  that  center  was 
begun.  In  addition  to  this  a  prudential  committee  of  three 
was  appointed  and  given  a  carte  blanche  to  carry  the  elec- 
tion, with  unlimited  means  at  its  command.  On  this  com- 
mittee were  ex-Governor,  now  Senator,  Joseph  E.  Brown, 
Major  Campbell  \Vallace  and  Captain  E.  P.  Howell,  editor 
of  the  Constitution.  The  advanced  age  of  the  other  two 
members  made  it  necessary  for  Captain  Howell  to  take  the 
heaviest  part  of  the  work  upon  his  shoulders  and  he  worked 
niirht  and  day.  Every  county  in  the  State,  except  those 
about  Macon  and  Milledgeville,  was  covered  with  men 
talking  for  Atlanta,  and  the  whole  State  was  flooded  with 
Atlanta  literatim4.  Some  of  the  most  distinguished 
speakers  in  the  State  were  on  the  hustings,  and  the  heaviest 
timber  was  on  Atlanta's  side.  It  was  a  campaign  of  hard 
work.  Every  voter,  white  and  colored,  was  reached  by 
type  and  talk  ;  and  when  the  day  came  Atlanta  won  by 
44,000  votes  majority. 

While  the  loading  citizens  of  Atlanta,  including  the 


in:\i:v    \v.   OBADY, 

editors  and  owners  of  the  Constitution,  were  personally  at 
work  in  the  campaign,  the  paper  was  the  chief  point  of 
attack  in  a  bitter  newspaper  war.  Rancor  ran  almost  to 
bloodshed.  Atlanta  editors  in  those  days  were  prepared  to 
talk  it  out  or  light  it  out  as  their  adversaries  pleased.  An 
editor's  courage  was  in  demand  as  constantly  as  his  pen. 
and  there  was  no  milk  and  water  in  editorials.  The  Co/ 
tution  held  the  fort  for  Atlanta,  and  its  flag  flaunted 
serenety  in  the  worst  of  the  war. 

Then  came  a  long  fight  for  an  appropriation  to  build  a 
new  Capitol.  The  Constitution  steadily  advocated  it,  and 
its  influence  was  thrown  into  the  Legislature  to  back  up 
Mr.  Rice,  the  Atlanta  member,  who  introduced  the  bill. 
Finally  when  a  million  dollars  had  been  appropriated,  the 
editor,  Captain  Howell,  was  put  on  the  Capitol  Commission 
to  succeed  the  late  Mr.  Crane  as  the  member  from  Atlanta. 

Since  then  the  Constitution  has  been  a  power  in  politi- 
cal campaigns,  and  its  influence  was  triumphantly  exerted 
in  behalf  of  Governor  Colquitt  in  the  famous  Colquitt- 
Norwood  campaign,  when  part  of  the  Democratic  Conven- 
tion split  off  and  nominated  Norwood  after  Colquitt  had 
been  named  by  the  majority.  Mr.  Grady  took  charge  of 
Governor  Colquitt' s  campaign,  and  to  his  efforts,  more  than 
to  anything  else,  Colquitt' s  election  was  due.  In  the 
Bacon-Boynton  campaign  the  Constitutions  influence  was 
exerted  for  Governor  Boynton,  and  finally  for  Governor 
McDaniel,  when  Major  Bacon  had  almost  run  away  with 
the  nomination.  When  Governor  Gordon  dashed  into  the 
State  in  1886  Mr.  Grady  took  charge  of  the  campaign  head- 
quarters in  Atlanta  and  directed  the  work  for  Gordon. 
The  General's  wonderful  magnetism  was  backed  up  with 
such  prodigious  work  as  the  State  had  never  known.  The 
local  influentials  all  over  the  State  were  largely  pledged  to 
Major  Bacon,  and  it  was  thought  he  had  the  nomination 
in  his  pocket.  Week  by  week,  as  the  returns  came  in,  the 
Gordon  column  crept  up  on  Bacon's,  and  in  the  closing 
weeks  the  General  swept  by  him  with  a  rush. 

The  prohibition  campaign  of  1887  was  one  of  the  most 


HIS    I. IKK,     \VKI  1  IN<--.     ANI>     SPEECHES, 

remarkable  episodes  in  the  liistory  of  Atlanta,  and  the 
division  and  tension  among  friends  and  neighbors  \\as 
strikingly  shown  by  the  position  of  the  gentlemen  who 
owned  the  (Jmixlitufioti.  Captain  Ho  well,  the  editor  in 
chief,  was  an  ardent  ant i,  and  Mr.  Grady,  the  managing  edi- 
tor, was  the  Leading  advocate  of  prohibition.  Mr.  Hemphill 
and  Mr.  Innian  were  for  prohibition,  and  other  stockhold- 
ers \\ere  against  it.  The  campaign  committees  on  botli 
sides  loaded  down  the  columns  of  the  paper  with  bristling 
communications,  while  the  editor  in  chief  and  the  manag- 
ing editor  had  thrown  their  whole  strength  into  the  cam- 
paign on  opposite  sides.  Both  were  on  the  hustings,  and 
it  so  happened  that  both  spoke  the  same  night,  Captain 
Howell  to  an  opera  house  full  of  antis,  and  Mr.  Grady  to  a 
big  warehouse  full  of  prohibitionists.  The  whole  town 
was  on  the  qui  mve ;  one-half  the  people  were  hurrahing 
for  Howell  and  the  other  were  cheering  for  Grady.  The 
editors  drew  more  than  the  houses  would  begin  to  hold, 
and  their  audiences  were  in  a  frenzy  of  delight. 

The  speeches  were  the  talk  of  the  day,  and  for  days 
afterward  their  arguments  were  discussed  and  repeatedly 
mustered  into  service  by  the  other  speakers. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  day  they  were  to  speak  the 
Evening  Journal  contained  the  following  spirited  notice 
under  the  head  of  "Howell  and  Grady": 

Jack  Spratt 
Could  eat  no  fat, 

His  wife  could  eat  no  lean, 
Between  them  both 
They  cleared  the  cloth 

And  licked  the  platter  clean. 

The  reproduction  of  this  ancient  rhyme  is  not  intended  as  an  insin- 
uation that  Mr.  Henry  "NV.  Grady,  the  silver-tongued  prohibition  ora- 
tor of  tonight,  has  any  of  the  attributes  of  Jack  Spratt,  or  that  Colonel 
Kvan  1'.  Howell,  the  redoubtable  champion  of  the  antis,  has  any  of  the 
peculiarities  of  .lack  Sprat  t's  conjugal  associate.  The  idea  sought  to  be 
conveyed  is  that  tin-  fat  and  lean  of  prohibition  will  be  energetically 
attacked  l>y  these  g«Mitlemen  to-night  at  the  same  hour  from  opposite 
sides  of  the  table. 

It  goes  without  saying  that  between  them  both  the  platter  will  be 


IIKXKY    W.    GRADY, 

licked  clean,  and  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  this  hearty  prohibition  meal 
will  be  thoroughly  digested  and  assimilated  to  Atlanta's  system,  that 
growth  in  her  every  tissue  will  be  the  result. 

It  would  be  hard  to  select  two  more  effective  speakers  and  two  more 
entirely  different. 

"  What  is  Colonel  Howell's  style  of  oratory  ?"  said  one  newspaper 
man  to  another. 

"Well,"  said  he,  "you  have  heard  Grady  ?  you  know  how  he 
speaks  ? " 

"Yes." 

"  Well,  Grady  makes  you  feel  like  you  want  to  be  an  angel  and  with 
the  angels  stand,  and  Howell  makes  you  feel  as  if  he  were  the  com- 
mander of  an  army,  waving  his  sword  and  saying,  '  Follow  me,'  and 
you  would  follow  him  to  the  death." 

Both  of  these  speakers  will  raise  enthusiasm  at  the  start.  As  Grady 
ascends  the  platform  the  band  will  play  "  Dixie  "  and  the  audience  will 
be  almost  in  a  frenzy  of  delight.  As  Colonel  Howard  comes  forward 
the  band  will  be  likely  to  play  the  "  Marsellaise  Hymn,"— some  air 
that  stirs  the  sterner  nature— and  he  will  be  received  with  thunders  of 
applause. 

With  infinite  jest  and  with  subtle  humor  Mr.  Grady  will  lead  his 
audience  by  the  still  waters  where  pleasant  pastures  lie  ;  and  there  he 
will  "  take  the  wings  of  the  morning  and  fly  to  the  uttermost  parts  of 
the  sea." 

Howell  will  march  his  audience,  like  an  army,  through  flood  and 
fire  and  fell  ;  he  will  cross  the  sea,  like  a  Norseman,  to  conquer 
Britain.  In  Grady's  flights  you  only  hear  the  cherubim's  wing  ;  in 
Howell's  march  the  drum-beat  never  ceases.  Grady 's  eloquence  is  like 
a  cumulus  cloud  that  rises  invisible  as  mist  till  it  unfolds  its  white  ban- 
ners in  the  sky  ;  Howell's  is  like  a  rushing  mountain  stream  that  tears 
every  rock  and  crag  from  its  path,  gathering  volume  as  it  goes. 

Mr.  Howell  will  doubtless  deal  in  statistics  ;  Mr.  Grady  will  have 
figures,  but  they  will  not  smell  of  the  census.  They  will  take  on  the 
pleasing  shape  that  induced  one  of  his  reporters  to  plant  a  crop  of  Irish 
potatoes  on  a  speculation.  To-night  Atlanta  will  be  treated  to  a  hope- 
ful view  of  prohibition  by  the  most  eloquent  optimist  in  the  country. 
The  contrast  will  be  drawn  with  all  the  ruggedness  of  a  strong,  blunt 
man. 

The  day  after  the  election,  when  1100  majority  had 
been  announced  against  prohibition,  Captain  Howell  and 
Mr.  Grady  printed  characteristic  cards.  Captain  Howell, 
from  the  standpoint  of  victory,  gave  in  a  few  words  his 
reasons  for  his  course,  and  closed  by  saying : 


HIS    UFK,     WKITI\(JS.     AND    Sl'KKfll  KS.  617 

A  word  about  my  partners.  I  have  differed  from  thorn  on  this 
question,  and  I  know  that  they  have  been  prompted  by  the.  same  con- 
sciousness of  duty  which  caused  me  to  so  differ.  I  love  Henry  Grady 
as  a  brother,  and  no  one  appreciates  more  highly  than  I  his  noble  and 
unselfish  devotion  to  our  city  ;  no  one  knows  better  than  I  his  earnest 
ness  and  faithful  attachment  to  her  welfare.  Mr.  Hemphill  and  Mr. 
Inman  are  as  true  and  tried  citizens  as  Atlanta  has,  and  are  among  my 
warmest  personal  friends.  Nothing  that  has  occurred  during  this 
campaign  could  mar  the  relations  existing  between  us.  The  only 
regret  I  have  about  the  campaign  is  that  I  found  it  necessary  to  differ 
with  them,  but  I  am  confident  that  they  will  now  join  hands  with  me 
in  carrying  out  the  purposes  (uniting  the  people)  as  expressed  above. 

Mr.  Grady  declared  his  unshaken  affection  for  his 
partner,  and  pledged  his  aid  to  him  in  his  purposes  to 
unite  Atlanta  and  keep  the  sale  of  liquor  within  bounds. 
As  for  his  own  part  in  the  campaign,  he  expresses  himself 
in  these  remarkable  words : 

When  everything  else  I  have  said  or  done  is  forgotten,  I  want 
the  words  I  have  spoken  for  prohibition  in  Atlanta  to  be  remembered. 
I  am  prouder  of  my  share  in  the  campaign  that  has  ended  in  its  defeat 
than  of  my  share  in  all  other  campaigns  that  have  ended  in  victory.  I 
espoused  its  cause  deliberately,  and  I  have  worked  for  its  success  night 
and  day,  to  the  very  best  of  my  ability.  My  only  regret  is  that  my 
ability  was  not  greater. 

This  reunion  of  the  owners  of  the  Constitution  was  the 
prompt  example  which  set  a  pattern  for  the  community. 
Within  a  year  from  the  close  of  the  bitterest  campaign  in 
Atlanta's  history,  one  in  which  many  a  house  and  many  a 
family  was  divided  against  itself,  the  acrimony  had  almost 
entirely  disappeared.  The  wounds  of  the  campaign  were 
healed  and  the  soreness  of  defeat  had  disappeared  ;  Atlanta 
was  re-united,  and  on  every  side  were  signs  of  prosperity 
and  good-will.  In  another  twelvemonth  she  had  to  enlarge 
her  girth  a  quarter  of  a  mile  all  round  ;  nine  hundred 
houses  were  built,  every  one  was  filled,  and  there  wa-<  a 
pressing  demand  for  more.  The  Constitution  turned  from 
this  struggle  with  its  owners  more  strongly  cemented  by 
personal  friendship  than  ever  before,  and  in  the  closing 


618  HKNIIY    \V.    GKADY, 

weeks  of  1889  the  paper  touched  a  higher  mark  of  pros- 
perity than  it  had  ever  known. 

After  Mr.  Grady's  death  the  Constitution  pursued  the 
even  tenor  of  its  way.  Saddened  by  that  great  calamity 
the  late  editor's  associates  realized  that  there  was  great 
work  for  them  to  do.  The  succession  to  the  management 
was  as  natural  as  the  passing  of  one  day  into  another. 
Mr.  Clark  Ho  well,  Jr.,  eldest  son  of  the  editor-in-chief, 
had  been  on  the  paper  six  years,  first  as  night  editor  and 
then  as  assistant  managing  editor.  In  Mr.  Grady's  absence 
he  had  been  in  charge,  and  in  taking  the  x>osition  of  man- 
aging editor  at  twenty-six  years  of  age,  he  assumed  duties 
and  responsibilities  that  were  not  new  to  him.  He  was 
fortified  by  an  extensive  personal  acquaintance  formed 
not  only  in  his  newspaper  experience,  but  in  two  terms  of 
active  service  as  a  representative  of  Fulton  County  in  the 
Legislature,  having  been  nominated  for  the  first  term  before 
he  was  twenty-one  years  of  age. 

Mr.  Ho  well  wron  his  spurs  as  a  newspaper  man  before 
he  was  twenty.  On  graduating  from  the  "University  of 
Georgia  in  1883  he  went  to  the  New  York  Times  as  an 
apprentice  in  its  local  department.  It  was  Captain  How- 
ell's  policy  to  throw  his  son  on  his  own  resources,  and 
the  moderate  allowance  during  college  days,  was  almost 
entirely  withdrawn  when  young  Clark  went  to  New  York. 
A  young  reporter  working  on  twelve  dollars  a  week  was 
sorely  put  to  it  to  make  ends  meet  in  a  great  city  like  New 
York.  From  the  New  York  Times  city  department  Mr. 
Howell  went  to  the  Philadelphia  Press,  assisting  in  the 
news  editing  department.  It  was  while  he  was  in  Phila- 
delphia, with  very  little  cash,  that  he  seized  an  opportu- 
nity to  make  some  money  and  a  good  deal  of  reputation. 
Samuel  J.  Tilden  was  being  urged  to  allow  the  use  of  his 
name  for  the  second  Presidential  nomination.  He  had  not 
said  yea  or  nay,  and  the  country  was  anxiously  awaiting 
his  decision,  for  his  consent  would  have  settled  the  ques- 
tion of  Democratic  leadership.  Mr.  Howell  went  to  New 
York  for  the  Constitution,  and  his  interview  with  Mr.  Til- 


HIS    LI  IK,    WRITINGS,    AXD   SPEECHES.  619 

den  was  the  first  announcement  of  the  old  statesman's 
determination  not  to  enter  the  contest  again.  That  night 
Mr.  Ho  well  telegraphed  the  news  to  two  hundred  papers, 
and  the  interview  with  the  sage  of  Gramercy  Park  was 
i< -ad  on  two  continents.  The  young  journalist  who  had 
scored  a  scoop  on  all  the  ambitious  newspaper  men  of  the 
country  received  flattering  notices  from  the  press,  besides 
the  comforting  addition  of  $400  to  his  almost  invisible 
cash. 

Mr.  Howell  then  came  on  the  Constitution  as  night  edi- 
tor, and  was  afterward  promoted  to  the  position  of  assist- 
ant managing  editor.  What  native  ability  and  six  years 
of  training  did  for  him  was  made  manifest  very  soon  after 
he  assumed  his  new  responsibility. 

For  days  the  letters  and  telegrams  of  condolence  and 
tributes  to  Mr.  Grady  filled  the  paper,  and  to  that  and  the 
monument  movement  all  other  matter  was,  for  the  time, 
made  subordinate.  When  at  last  the  burden  of  the  peo- 
ple's grief  had  found  full  expression,  the  Constitution 
turned  itself  with  renewed  vigor  to  its  work.  Captain 
Howell  was  on  deck,  the  new  managing  editor  plunged 
into  every  detail,  and  soon  a  general  improvement  was  the 
result ;  the  Constitution  took  on  new  life.  Then  Mr. 
Howell  turned  on  all  his  energies  and  put  the  magnificent 
machinery  at  his  disposal  up  to  its  full  speed.  The  daily 
issues  drew  daily  commendations  of  their  excellence  from 
the  press,  and  the  first  twenty-four-page  Sunday's  edition 
was  pronounced  by  many  the  best  the  Constitution  had 
ever  issued. 

The  people  realized  that  the  Constitution,  though  it 
had  suffered  a  great  loss  in  Mr.  Grady' s  death,  was  still  in 
strong  hands,  and  from  all  parts  of  its  territory  came 
renewed  expressions  of  confidence  and  sympathy,  So  the 
Constitution  continues  its  work,  enlarging  and  improving 
as  it  goes,  ever  looking  to  the  future  while  it  cherishes  a 
magnificent  past  which  it  could  not  and  would  not  let  die. 


LETTERS  AND  TELEGRAMS 


FROM 


DISTINGUISHED  PERSONS. 


HON.  CHAUNCEY  M.  DEPEW. 


NEW  YORK,  Dec.  23. — The  New  England  Society  cele- 
brated to-night  its  84th  anniversary  and  the  469th  of  the 
landing  of  the  Pilgrim  Fathers  with  a  dinner. 

Mr.  Depew  spoke  to  the  toast  of  "  Unsolved  Problems," 
and  in  the  course  of  his  remarks  he  referred  to  the  death 
of  Henry  W.  Grady.  He  said : 

"  Thirty  years  ago,  Robert  Toombs,  of  Georgia,  one  of 
the  ablest  and  most  brilliant  defenders  of  slavery,  said  in 
his  place  in  the  United  States  Senate  that  he  would  yet 
call  the  roll  of  his  bondmen  at  the  foot  of  Bunker  Hill 
monument.  To-day  his  slaves  are  citizens  and  voters. 
Within  a  few  days  a  younger  Georgian,  possessed 
of  equal  genius,  but  imbued  with  sentiments  so  leavened 
that  the  great  Senator  would  have  held  him  an  enemy 
to  the  State,  was  the  guest  of  Boston.  With  a  power 
of  presentation  and  a  fervor  of  declaration  worthy 
of  the  best  days  and  noblest  efforts  of  eloquence,  he  stood 
beneath  the  shadow  of  Bunker  Hill  and  uttered  opinions 
justifying  the  suppression  of  the  negro  vote,  which  were 
hostile  to  the  views  of  every  man  in  his  audience,  and  yet 
they  gave  to  his  argument  an  eager  and  candid  hearing, 
and  to  his  oratory  unstinted  and  generous  applause.  It 
\\as  triumphant  of  Puritan  principles  and  Puritan  pluck. 
They  know  we  know  that  no  system  of  suffrage  can 
survive  the  intimidation  of  the  voter  or  the  falsifica- 
tion of  the  courts.  Public  conscience,  by  the  approval 
of  fraud  upon  the  ballot  and  the  intelligence  of  a  com- 
munity, will  soon  be  indifferent  to  the  extensions  of 
those  methods  by  the  present  office-holders  to  continue  in 

623 


624  JIK.XKY    W.    GRADY, 

power,  and  the  arbitrary  reversing  of  the  will  of  the  major- 
ity will  end  in  anarchy  and  despotism. 

"This  is  a  burning  question,  not  only  in  Georgia,  but 
in  New  York.  It  is  that  the  government  for  the  people 
shall  be  by  the  people.  No  matter  how  grave  the  ques- 
tions which  absorb  the  people's  attention  or  engross  their 
,  time,  the  permanence  of  their  solution  rests  upon  a  pure 
ballot. 

"  The  telegraph  brings  us  this  evening  the  announce- 
ment of  the  death  of  Henry  W.  Grady,  and  we  forget  all 
differences  of  opinion  and  remember  only  his  chivalry, 
patriotism,  and  his  genius.  He  was  the  leader  of  the  New 
South,  and  died  in  the  great  work  of  impressing  its  marvel- 
ous growth  and  national  inspirations  upon  the  willing  ears 
of  the  North.  Upon  this  platform,  and  before  this  audience, 
two  years  ago,  he  commanded  the  attention  of  the  country 
and  won  universal  fame.  His  death,  in  the  meridian  of 
his  powers  and  the  hopefulness  of  his  mission,  at  a 
critical  period  •  of  the  removal  forever  of  all  misunder- 
standing and  differences  between  all  sections  of  the  Repub- 
lic, is  a  national  calamity.  New  York  mingles  her  tears 
with,  those  of  his  kindred,  and  offers  to  his  memory  a  tribute 
of  her  profoundest  admiration." 


EX-PRESIDENT  CLEVELAND. 


NEW  YORK,  December  23,  1889. 

MRS.  HENRY  W.  GRADY  :  Accept  the  heartfelt  sym- 
pathy of  one  who  loved  your  husband  for  what  he  was  and 
for  all  that  he  had  done  for  his  people  and  his  country. 
Be  assured  that  everywhere  throughout  the  land  warm 
hearts  mourn  with  you  in  your  deep  affliction  and  deplore 
the  loss  the  nation  has  sustained. 

GROVER  CLEVELAND. 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND    SPEECHES.  625 

HON.  A.  S.  COLYAR 


NASHVILLE,  TENN.,  December  26, 1889. 
MR.  A.  W.  DAVIS,  ATLANTA,  GA.  : 

My  Dear  Sir  : — I  feel  as  if,  in  coming  to  what  I  had 
hoped  to  be  a  joyous  occasion,  I  am  coming  to  the  house  of 
mourning — the  home  of  sorrow.  Since  the  tragic  end  of 
the  young  Irish  patriot,  death  has  not  more  ruthlessly 
invaded  the  land  of  "shining  marks"  than  when  he  the 
other  day  came  to  your  beautiful  city — a  city  of  happiness 
and  "high  ways" — and,  as  if  looking  with  remorseless 
purpose  into  the  very  secrets  of  domestic  felicity  and 
popular  affection — took  up  and  carried  away  into  the  land 
of  the  unseeable  the  idol  of  a  happy  home  and  of  a  great 
city.  Not  only  was  Henry  W.  Grady  the  idol  of  his  own 
city  and  State,  but  without  office  and  without  estate, 
though  young  in  years,  he  had  attained  a  maturity  of  both 
pen  and  heart  which  brought  renown  as  an  American 
patriot  far  beyond  what  place  or  power  can  give.  His  death 
is  a  national  calamity.  In  times  of  peace,  when  much  of 
the  press  and  many  of  the  public  men  are  inviting  patron- 
age and  seeking  favors  in  fanning  the  passions  born  of  a 
sectional  issue,  to  see  a  truly  national  and  brave  man, 
who,  loving  his  own  native  section,  can  nevertheless  glory 
in  a  common  country  and  a  common  destiny  for  all  the 
American  people — is  to  the  patriot  philosopher,  who 
divines  the  happiness  of  a  reunited  people,  the  bright  star 
of  hope  rising  to  dissipate  the  prejudices  of  the  past  and 
light  up  the  pathway  to  the  coming  millions. 

Unfortunately,  oh,  how  much  to  be  deplored  !  the  pas- 
sions of  the  sections  have  been  kept  alive  by  the  pen  and 
tongue  of  the  politician  seeking  patronage  and  office. 

The  young  man  of  your  city  whose  death  all  patriots 
mourn,  put  himself  on  a  higher  plane — freed  from  passion 
and  rising  above  his  own  ambition,  he  gave  tone  and 
temper  to  a  national  sentiment,  which  might  be  uttered  in 


626  JIKXRY   W.    GRADF, 

Boston  or  Atlanta  with  equal  propriety  and  patriotism 
and  from  the  emotions  of  his  patriotic  heart,  he  spoke 
words  which,  while  they  were  full  of  the  manhood  of  his 
own  loved  South,  nevertheless  warmed  into  a  generous 
sympathy  the  North  man  as  well  as  the  South  man,  and 
put  American  citizenship  so  high  that  the  young  men  of 
the  country  may,  without  the  sacrifice  of  local  pride,  ever 
aspire  to  reach  it. 

As  an  example  of  Southern  manhood,  patriotic  fervor, 
and  a  statesmanship  extending  over  the  entire  country  and 
into  the  coming  generations,  all  sparkling  with  the  scintil- 
lation of  an  intelligent  courage  that  defied  alike  the  pre- 
judices of  the  ignorant  and  the  appeals  of  the  demagogue, 
he  was  the  representative  and  leader  of  a  sentiment  in  the 
South  which  promised  speedily  a  reforming  of  public  senti- 
ment north  and  south,  a  turning  from  the  shades  of  the 
past  into  the  lighted  avenues  of  the  future— these  avenues 
opening  to  all  alike  without  the  sacrifice  of  manhood  or 
the  domination  of  section. 

I  repeat,  his  death  is  a  calamity,  and  oh,  how  sad  and 
mysterious ! 

Truly,  A.  S.  COLYAR. 


HON.  MURAT  HALSTEAD. 


CINCINNATI,  December  24,  1889. 
MRS.  H.  W.  GRADY  : 

I  desire  to  inscribe  my  name  among  those  who  feel  the 
public  misfortune  of  Mr.  Grady's  death  as  a  personal  loss, 
and  hope  you  may  know  how  true  it  is  that  there  are  no 
boundaries  to  sincere  regrets  and  earnest  sympathies. 

MURAT  HALSTEAD. 


HIS   LIFE,    WRITINGS,    AND   SPEECHES.  627 

HON.  SAMUEL  J.  RANDALL. 


HOUSE  OF  REPRESENTATIVES, 
WASHINGTON,  D.  C.,  December  24,  1889. 
HON.  E.  P.  UOWKIJ,,  ATLANTA,  GA.  : 

My  Dear  Sir  : — I  telegraphed  briefly  yesterday  after- 
noon, immediately  upon  hearing  of  the  death  of  our  dear 
friend.  I  do  not  know  when  I  have  been  more  shocked 
than  I  have  been  at  this  great  calamity,  and  I  cannot  yet 
bring  my  mind  to  realize  it.  The  ways  of  Providence  are 
strange  indeed,  but  we  should  submit  with  Christian  forti- 
tude. 

So  young  a  man,  with  so  bright  a  future,  and  capable 
of  so  much  benefit  to  his  State  arid  country,  it  is  hard 
indeed  to  part  with.  His  great  object  in  life  was  to  break 
down  sectionalism  and  bring  the  South  to  her  full  capa- 
bilities of  development.  But  I  have  not  the  heart  to  write 
more. 

Give  Mrs.  Randall's  love  to  Mrs.  Grady  and  my  kindest 
sympathy,  and  tell  her  that  as  long  as  life  lasts  with  us 
Mr.  Grady' s  hundred  and  more  kindnesses  to  both  will 
never  fade  from  our  memory. 

SAMUEL  J.  RANDALL. 


MR.  ANDREW  CARNEGIE. 


NEW  YORK,  December  24,  1889. 
CAPTAIN  HOWELL  : 

Only  those  who  stood  at  Mr.  Grady's  side  as  we  did  and 
heard  him  at  Boston  can  estimate  the  extent  of  the  nation's 
loss  in  his  death.  It  seemed  reserved  for  him  to  perform  a 
service  to  his  country  which  no  other  could  perform  so  well. 
Mrs.  Carnegie  and  I  share  your  grief  and  tender  to  his 
family  profound  sympathy.  We  send  a  wreath  in  your 
care  which  please  place  upon  the  grave  of  the  eloquent 
peacemaker  between  the  North  and  South. 

AXDIIKW  CARNEGIE. 


628  HENRY   W.    GRADY, 

MANY  DISTINGUISHED  CITIZENS. 


SPRINGFIELD,  MASS.  ,  December  24,  1889. 
THE  HONORABLE,  THE  MAYOR  : 

Springfield  shares  the  sorrow  of  her  sister  city.  The 
death  of  such  a  man  as  Henry  Woodfin  Grady  is  a  national 
loss.  EDWARD  S.  BRADFORD,  Mayor. 


NEW  YORK,  December  24,  1889. 
To  MRS.  HENRY  GRADY  : 

The  New  York  Southern  Society,  profoundly  affected  by 
a  sense  of  the  public  loss  sustained  in  the  death  of  your 
distinguished  husband,  offer  you  their  heartfelt  sympathy 
in  the  great  affliction  you  have  suffered. 

J.  H.  PARKER,  Vice-President 


NEW  YORK,  December  23,  1889. 
GOVERNOR  RUFTJS  B.  BULLOCK  : 

Your  dispatch  is  received  with  sincere  sorrow.  Thou- 
sands of  our  citizens  recognized  in  Mr.  Grady  a  man 
worthy  of  the  highest  respect  and  esteem,  and  will  regard 
his  untimely  death  a  national  calamity. 

ALONZO  B.  CORNELL. 


NEW  YORK,  December  24,  1889. 
EVAN  HOWELL  : 

Please  give  my  earnest  sympathy  to  Mrs.  Grady.  The 
profession  has  lost  one  of  its  three  or  four  foremost  mem- 
bers, and  the  country  a  true  patriot. 

BALLARD  SMITH. 


University  of  Toronto 
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