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diff --git a/old/68178-0.txt b/old/68178-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 271b5c6..0000000 --- a/old/68178-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,22287 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Joel Chandler Harris' Life of Henry W. -Grady including his writings and speeches, by Joel Chandler Harris - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Joel Chandler Harris' Life of Henry W. Grady including his - writings and speeches - -Editor: Joel Chandler Harris - -Release Date: May 26, 2022 [eBook #68178] - -Language: English - -Produced by: David Edwards, Barry Abrahamsen, and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was - produced from images generously made available by The - Internet Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS' LIFE OF -HENRY W. GRADY INCLUDING HIS WRITINGS AND SPEECHES *** - - - - - - HENRY W. GRADY - - - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - -[Illustration: - - ENGRAVED FROM PHOTOGRAPH BY C. W. MOTES. - H. W. Grady. -] - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS’ - - LIFE OF - - HENRY W. GRADY - - INCLUDING HIS - - WRITINGS AND SPEECHES. - - - --------------------- - - - A Memorial Volume - - COMPILED BY MR. HENRY W. GRADY’S CO-WORKERS ON - - “_THE CONSTITUTION_,” - - AND EDITED BY - - JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS - - (_UNCLE REMUS_). - - THIS MEMORIAL VOLUME IS SOLD ONLY BY SUBSCRIPTION, AND IN THE INTERESTS - OF THE FAMILY AND MOTHER OF MR. GRADY. - - - --------------------- - - - NEW YORK: - - CASSELL PUBLISHING COMPANY, - - 104 & 106 FOURTH AVENUE. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - COPYRIGHT, - 1890, - By MRS. HENRY W. GRADY. - - - - _All rights reserved_. - - - - - Press W. L. Mershon & Co., - Rahway, N. J. - - - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - LOOKING FORWARD TO THE REALIZATION OF THE LOFTY PURPOSE THAT GUIDED OUR - - _MESSENGER OF PEACE_, - - AND TO THE SPLENDID CLIMAX OF HIS HOPES AND ASPIRATIONS, - - THIS MEMORIAL VOLUME - - OF THE LIFE AND SERVICES OF - - =Henry Woodfin Grady,= - - IS DEDICATED TO THE - - PEACE, UNITY AND FRATERNITY - - OF THE - - NORTH AND SOUTH, AND TO THE PROGRESS AND PROSPERITY OF - - _A RE-UNITED COUNTRY WITH ONE FLAG AND ONE DESTINY_. - - - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CONTENTS. - - - ------- - - PAGE - - IN MEMORIAM—_Henry Watterson_, 5 - - BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH—_Joel Chandler 9 - Harris_, - - MEMORIAL SKETCH—_Marion Verdery_, 69 - - - SPEECHES. - - THE NEW SOUTH—Delivered at the Banquet 83 - of the New England Club, New York, - December 21, 1886, - - THE SOUTH AND HER PROBLEM—At the Dallas, 94 - Texas, State Fair, October 26, 1887, - - AT THE AUGUSTA EXPOSITION—In November, 121 - 1887, - - AGAINST CENTRALIZATION—Before the 142 - Society of the University of Virginia, - June 25, 1889, - - THE FARMER AND THE CITIES—At Elberton, 158 - Georgia, in June, 1889, - - AT THE BOSTON BANQUET—Before the 180 - Merchants’ Association, in December, - 1889, - - BEFORE THE BAY STATE CLUB—1889, 199 - - - WRITINGS. - - “SMALL JANE”—The Story of a Little 211 - Heroine, - - DOBBS—A Thumb-nail Sketch of a Martyr—A 220 - Blaze of Honesty—The Father of - Incongruity—Five Dollars a Week—A - Conscientious Debtor, - - A CORNER LOT, 227 - - THE ATHEISTIC TIDE SWEEPING OVER THE 230 - CONTINENT—The threatened Destruction - of the Simple Faith of the Fathers by - the Vain Deceits of Modern - Philosophers, - - ON THE OCEAN WAVE—An Amateur’s 238 - Experience on a Steamship—How - Sea-Sickness Works—The Sights of the - Sea—The Lovers and the Pilot—Some - Conclusions not Jumped at - - TWO MEN WHO HAVE THRILLED THE STATE—An 245 - 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, - - “BOB.” HOW AN OLD MAN “COME HOME”—A 252 - Story Without a Moral, Picked out of a - Busy Life, - - COTTON AND ITS KINGDOM, 272 - - IN PLAIN BLACK AND WHITE—A Reply to Mr. 285 - Cable, - - THE LITTLE BOY IN THE BALCONY, 308 - - - POEMS BY VARIOUS HANDS. - - GRADY—_F. L. Stanton_, 313 - - ATLANTA—_Josephine Pollard_, 316 - - HENRY W. GRADY—_James Whitcombe Riley_, 317 - - A REQUIEM IN MEMORY OF “HIM THAT’S 318 - AWA’”—_Montgomery M. Folsom_, - - HENRY WOODFIN GRADY—_Henry O’Meara_, 320 - - HENRY W. GRADY—_Henry Jerome Stockard_, 322 - - WHO WOULD CALL HIM BACK?—_Belle Eyre_, 323 - - HENRY W. GRADY—_G. W. Lyon_, 324 - - WHAT THE MASTER MADE—_Mel. R. Colquitt_, 326 - - IN ATLANTA, CHRISTMAS, 1889—_Henry Clay 327 - Lukens_, - - IN MEMORY OF HENRY WOODFIN GRADY—_Lee 328 - Fairchild_, - - A SOUTHERN CHRISTMAS DAY—_N.C. 329 - Thompson_, - - IN MEMORY OF HENRY W. GRADY—_Elizabeth 331 - J. Hereford_, - - HENRY W. GRADY—_Mary E. Bryan_, 333 - - THE OLD AND THE NEW—_J. M. Gibson_, 334 - - HENRY W. GRADY—_E. A. B., from the 336 - Boston Globe_, - - AT GRADY’S GRAVE—_Charles W. Hubner_, 338 - - - MEMORIAL MEETINGS. - - THE ATLANTA MEMORIAL MEETING, 345 - The Chi Phi Memorial, 347 - Address of Hon. Patrick Walsh, 350 - Address of Hon. B. H. Hill, 353 - Address of Julius L. Brown, 356 - Address of Hon. Albert Cox, 362 - Address of Walter B. Hill, 365 - Address of Judge Howard Van Epps, 369 - Address of Prof. H. C. White, 373 - Address of Hon. John Temple Graves, 378 - Address of Governor Gordon, 382 - MEMORIAL MEETING AT MACON, GA., 385 - Resolutions, 387 - Alumni Resolutions, 389 - Address of Mr. Richardson, 385 - Address of Mr. Boifeuillet, 391 - Address of Major Hanson, 396 - Address of Judge Speer, 398 - Address of Mr. Washington, 406 - Address of Mr. Patterson, 409 - - - PERSONAL TRIBUTES. - - THOUGHTS ON H. W. GRADY—By _B. H. 417 - Samett_, - - SARGENT S. PRENTISS AND HENRY W. GRADY. 421 - Similarity of Genius and Patriotism—By - _Joseph F. Pon_, - - SERMON—By _Dr. T. DeWitt Talmage_, 428 - - - TRIBUTES OF THE NORTHERN PRESS. - - He was the Embodiment of the Spirit of 443 - the New South—_From the “New York - World,”_ - - A Thoroughly American Journalist—_From 444 - the “New York Herald,”_ - - A Loss to the Whole Country—_From the 445 - “New York Tribune,”_ - - What Henry W. Grady Represented—_From 446 - the “New York Commercial Advertiser,”_ - - A Far-sighted Statesman—_From the “New 448 - York Star,”_ - - An Apostle of the New Faith—_From the 448 - “New York Times,”_ - - The Foremost Leader—_From the “New York 449 - Christian Union,”_ - - A Glorious Mission—_From the “Albany, 450 - N.Y., Argus,”_ - - His Lofty Ideal—_From the “Philadelphia 452 - Press,”_ - - His Patriotism—_From the “Philadelphia 454 - Ledger,”_ - - Oratory and the Press—_From the “Boston 457 - Advertiser,”_ - - The Lesson of Mr. Grady’s Life—_From the 458 - “Philadelphia Times,”_ - - His Loss a General Calamity—_From the 459 - “St. Louis Globe-Democrat,”_ - - Saddest of Sequels—_From the 461 - “Manchester, N.H., Union,”_ - - A Life of Promise—_From the “Chicago 462 - Inter-Ocean,”_ - - Electrified the Whole Country—_From the 464 - “Pittsburg Dispatch,”_ - - A Large Brain and a Large Heart—_From 465 - the “Elmira, N.Y., Advertiser,”_ - - The Model Citizen—_From the “Boston 467 - Globe,”_ - - A Loyal Unionist—_From the “Chicago 468 - Times,”_ - - His Work was Not in Vain—_From the 468 - “Cleveland, O., Plaindealer,”_ - - The Best Representative of the New 469 - South—_From the “Albany, N.Y., - Journal,”_ - - A Lamentable Loss to the Country—_From 470 - the “Cincinnati Commercial Gazette,”_ - - A Sad Loss—_From the “Buffalo, N.Y., 471 - Express,”_ - - Words of Virgin Gold—_From the “Oswego, 473 - N.Y., Palladium,”_ - - Sad News—_From the “Boston Advertiser,”_ 475 - - A Leader of Leaders—_From the 477 - “Philadelphia Times,”_ - - A Forceful Advocate—_From the 479 - “Springfield, Mass., Republican,”_ - - His Great Work—_From the “Boston Post,”_ 480 - - New England’s Sorrow—_From the “Boston 482 - Herald,”_ - - A Noble Life Ended—_From the 484 - “Philadelphia Telegraph,”_ - - A Typical Southerner—_From the “Chicago 486 - Tribune,”_ - - His Name a Household Possession—_From 487 - the “Independence, Mo., Sentinel,”_ - - Editor, Orator, Statesman, Patriot—_From 488 - the “Kansas City Globe,”_ - - A Southern Bereavement—_From the 490 - “Cincinnati Times-Star,”_ - - A Man Who will be Missed, 491 - - At the Beginning of a Great Career—_From 493 - the “Pittsburg Post,”_ - - The Peace-Makers—_From the “New York 494 - Churchman,”_ - - One of the Brightest—_From the “Seattle 495 - Press,”_ - - The South’s Noble Son—_From the 496 - “Rockland, Me., Opinion,”_ - - Brilliant and Gifted—_Dr. H. M. Field in 497 - “New York Evangelist,”_ - - The Death of Henry W. Grady—_John Boyle 499 - O’Reilly in the “Boston Pilot,”_ - - - TRIBUTES OF THE SOUTHERN PRESS. - - A Noble Death—_From the “Jacksonville, 505 - Fla., Times-Union,”_ - - There Was None Greater—_From the 507 - “Birmingham, Mo., Chronicle,”_ - - A Great Leader Has Fallen—_From the 509 - “Raleigh, N.C., State Chronicle,”_ - - N.H._From the “New Orleans 514 - Times-Democrat,”_ - - Second to None—_From the “Louisville 517 - Courier-Journal,”_ - - A Loss to the South—_From the 519 - “Louisville Post,”_ - - The Death of Henry W. Grady, 520 - - Universal Sorrow—_From the “Nashville 522 - American,”_ - - The Highest Place—_From the “Charleston 524 - News and Courier,”_ - - A Brilliant Career—_From the “Baltimore 526 - Sun,”_ - - A Public Calamity—_From the “Selma Times 528 - and Mail,”_ - - Grief Tempers To-day’s Joy—_From the 530 - “Austin, Tex., Statesman,”_ - - Henry Grady’s Death—_From the 532 - “Charleston Evening Sun,”_ - - Two Dead Men—_From the “Greenville, 533 - N.C., News,”_ - - Grady’s Renown—_From the “Birmingham 535 - News,”_ - - Henry W. Grady—_From the “Augusta 537 - Chronicle,”_ - - True and Loyal—_From the “Athens 543 - Banner,”_ - - Mr. Grady’s Death—_From the “Savannah 544 - Times,”_ - - A Great Loss to Georgia—_From the 545 - “Columbia Enquirer-Sun,”_ - - The Man Eloquent—_From the “Rome 547 - Tribune,”_ - - Death of Henry W. Grady—_From the 549 - “Savannah News,”_ - - Henry W. Grady Dead—_From the “Albany 551 - News and Advertiser,”_ - - Stilled is the Eloquent Tongue—_From the 553 - “Brunswick Times,”_ - - A Shining Career—_From the “Macon 554 - Telegraph,”_ - - The Greatest Calamity—_From the “Augusta 557 - News,”_ - - No Ordinary Grief—_From the “Columbus 559 - Ledger,”_ - - A Place Hard to Fill—_From the “Griffin 559 - News,”_ - - “Just Human”—_From the “Thomasville 560 - Enterprise,”_ - - Georgia Weeps—_From the “Union News,”_ 561 - - A Grand Mission—_From the “West Point 563 - Press,”_ - - The South Loved Him—_From the “Darien 564 - Timber Gazette,”_ - - No Sadder News—_From the “Marietta 565 - Journal,”_ - - Georgia’s Noble Son—_From the “Madison 566 - Advertiser,”_ - - The Death of Henry Grady—_From the 569 - “Hawkinsville Dispatch,”_ - - A Measureless Sorrow—_From the “Lagrange 572 - Reporter,”_ - - Grady’s Death—_From the “Oglethorpe 573 - Echo,”_ - - He Loved his Country—_From the “Cuthbert 574 - Liberal,”_ - - A Resplendent Record—_From the “Madison 575 - Madisonian,”_ - - Dedicated to Humanity—_From the 576 - “Sandersville Herald and Georgian,”_ - - The South Laments—_From the “Middle 578 - Georgia Progress,”_ - - His Career—_From the “Dalton Citizen,”_ 579 - - Our Fallen Hero—_From the “Hartwell 581 - Sun,”_ - - A Deathless Name—_From the “Gainesville 582 - Eagle,”_ - - A Great Soul—_From the “Baxley Banner,”_ 583 - - In Memoriam—_From the “Henry Co. 585 - Times,”_ - - A People Mourn—_From the “Warrenton 587 - Clipper,”_ - - Henry W. Grady is No More—_From the 589 - “Valdosta Times,”_ - - “Maybe his Work is Finished”—_From the 590 - “Dalton Argus,”_ - - He Never Offended—_From the “Washington 592 - Chronicle,”_ - - The South in Mourning—_From the 593 - “Elberton Star,”_ - - Stricken at its Zenith—_From the 594 - “Greenesboro Herald and Journal,”_ - - The Southland Mourns—_From the “Griffin 596 - Morning Call,”_ - - THE “CONSTITUTION” AND ITS WORK, 601 - - - 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 - Hon. Edward S. Bradford, 628 - Mr. J. H. Parker, 628 - Hon. Alonzo B. Cornell, 628 - Mr. Ballard Smith, 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 announcement 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 public and personal. The young and gifted -Georgian had made a great impression upon his country and his time; -blending an individuality, picturesque, strong and attractive, and an -eloquence as rarely solid as it was rhetorically fine, 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 subtracted 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 sincere. - -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 should be cut down upon the threshold of a career, -for whose magnificent development and broad usefulness all was prepared, -seemed a cruel dispensation of Providence and aroused a heart-breaking -sentiment far beyond the bounds compassed by Mr. Grady’s personality. - -Of the details of his life, and of his life-work, others have spoken in -the amplest terms. I shall, in this place, content myself with placing -on the record my own remembrance and estimate of the man as he was known -to me. Mr. Grady became a writer for the press 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 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. 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 -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 opportunity he had sought to make a name and -fame for himself, and an audience of his own. Here he carried the policy -with which 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 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 unexpectedness, 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 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 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 9, 1890_. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - -[Illustration: - - THE HOME OF GRADY’S BOYHOOD, ATHENS. -] - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH - OF - HENRY W. GRADY. - - ------- - - BY JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS. - - ------- - - -ORDINARILY, 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 -gravestone. Here is the business, the occupation, the profession, -success 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 small, all seem willing to surrender to its -influence. It is the natural order of things that an American who is -ambitious—who is willing, as the phrase goes, to serve the people (and -it is a pretty as well as a popular phrase)—should have an eye on some -official position, more or less important, which he would be willing to -accept even at a sacrifice if necessary. This is the American plan, and -it has been so sanctified by history and custom that the modern -reformers, who propose to apply a test of fitness to the office-seekers, -are hooted at as Pharisees. After our long and promiscuous career of -office-seeking and office-holding, a test of fitness seems to be a -monarchical invention which has for its purpose the destruction of our -republican institutions. - -It is true that some of the purest and best men in our history have held -office, and have sought it, and this fact gives additional emphasis to -one feature of Henry Grady’s career. He never sought office, and he was -prompt to refuse 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 presented to him. Never before in Georgia -has a citizen been formally petitioned by so large a number of his -fellow-citizens to accept so important an office. Mr. Grady regarded 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 was one of the most charming elements of his -character. His 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 young 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 - profession. After 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 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 calling, 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 I will - never become a candidate 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, - sacrifice, 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 hillsides 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: - - “My father bore a part in this work, and his name lives in the - memory of this people.” - - While I am forced, therefore, to decline to allow the use of my - name as you request, I cannot dismiss your testimonial, - unprecedented, I believe, in its character and compass, without - renewing my thanks for the generous motives that inspired it. - Life can bring me no sweeter satisfaction than comes from this - expression of confidence and esteem from the people with whom I - live, and among whom I expect to die. You have been pleased to - commend the work I may have done for the old State we love so - well. Rest assured that you have to-day repaid me amply for the - past, and have strengthened me for whatever duty may lie ahead. - - -Brief as it is, this is a complete summary of Mr. Grady’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 -office-seeking. It is not to be supposed, however, that he scorned -politics. He had unbounded faith in the end and aim of certain -principles of government, and he had unlimited 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 methods did 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 light 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. Yet, in the face of these -sinister intimations, he died the best beloved and the most deeply -lamented man that Georgia has ever produced, and, to crown it all, he -died a private citizen, 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 he had with the writer of this, Mr. -Grady regretted that there were people in Georgia who misunderstood his -motives and intentions. We were on the train going from Macon to -Eatonton, where he was to speak. - -“I am 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 running 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 instances 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 showing. They manifest an extraordinary growth, not in style -or expression—for all the graces of composition were fully developed in -Mr. Grady’s earliest writings—but in lofty aim, in the high and -patriotic purpose 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 literary -nimbleness or rhetorical fluency—the qualities that kindle the fires of -patriotism and revive and restore the love of country. - -In his Eatonton speech, Mr. Grady was particularly happy in his -references to a restored Union and a common country, and his earnestness -and his eloquence were as conscientious there as if he were speaking to -the largest and most distinguished audience in the world, and as if his -address were to be printed in all the newspapers of the land. I am -dwelling on these things in order to show that there was nothing -affected or perfunctory in Mr. Grady’s attitude. He had political -enemies in the State—men who, at some turn in their career, had felt the -touch and influence of his hand, or thought they did—and these men were -always ready, through their small organs and mouthpieces, to belittle -his efforts and to dash their stale small beer across 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 character; they supply the means of getting an intimate -glimpse of his motives. That the thoughtless and ill-tempered criticisms -of his contemporaries wounded 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. His heart -was too tender and his nature too generous. 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 -conscious of the growth of his powers, and he watched their development -with the curiosity 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 of his motives gave him strength and power -in a direction where most other public men are weak. This same -consciousness gave a breadth, an ardor, and an impulsiveness to his -actions and utterances that seem to be wholly lacking 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 something 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, however, 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 something in the scene that was inspiring. Near -him sat General 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 I had a message for that assemblage, and as soon as I opened -my mouth it came rushing out.” - -That speech, as we all know, was an achievement in its way. It stirred -the whole country from one end to the other, and made Mr. Grady famous. -Invitations to speak poured 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 -lightning’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 -surprising 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 _Constitution_ office, carefully revised, and -proof slips sent out to a number of newspapers. Mr. Grady’s journey from -Atlanta to Dallas, which was undertaken in a special car, was in the -nature 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 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 editor 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 -everything was made ready for giving the speech to the public the next -morning; but during the afternoon this telegram came: - - - “_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 England 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 thoroughly 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 spent a day in Washington,” said Mr. -McLendon, recalling the incidents of the trip. “The rest of the party -rode around the capital looking at the sights, but Mr. Grady, myself, -and one or two others remained in the car. While we were waiting there, -Mr. Grady read me the printed slips of his speech, and I remember that -it made a great impression on me. I thought it was good enough for any -occasion, 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 astonished person you ever saw. I expected to hear again the speech -that had been read to me in the Pullman coach, but I 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 student 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 versatility as a speaker.” - -In his speeches in the country towns of Georgia and before the farmers, -Mr. Grady made no pretense of preparation. His private secretary, Mr. -James R. Holliday, caught 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. Each speech, as might be -supposed, was a beautiful variation of this rural theme to which he was -wedded, but the essential part of the Elberton speech was the bone and -marrow of all. I think there is no passage in our modern 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 commissioned 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 -descriptions 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 -clover, 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 enjoyed his -companionship. The farm was a dream, but he no doubt got more enjoyment -and profit out of it than a great 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 -affairs of this busy and stirring age, and many a time when he grew -tired of the incessant demands made on his time and patience he would -close the door of his room with a bang and instruct the office-boy to -tell all callers that he had “gone to his farm.” The fat cows that -grazed there lowed their welcome, the chickens cackled to see him come, -and the colt capered nimbly in the green expanse of barley—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 arrangement 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 unsatisfactory. 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 subscribers. All his -faculties were trained to meet emergencies; and he was never happier -than when meeting them, whether in a political campaign, in conventions, -in local issues, or in the newspaper business as 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, somewhere -in the middle, begin at the beginning. - -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 banquet 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 somewhat 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 characteristic that -clung to him through all his life, was his love and sympathy for the -poor and lowly, for the destitute 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 earliest childhood, Mr. Grady had a -fondness for the negro race. He was fond of the negroes because they -were dependent, his heart went out to them because he understood and -appreciated their position. When he was two years old, he had a little -negro boy named Isaac to wait on him. He always called this negro -“Brother Isaac,” and he would cry bitterly, if any one told him that -Isaac was not his brother. As he grew older his interest in the negroes -and his fondness for them increased. Until he 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 I -want them to be warm.” His first thought was always for the destitute -and the lowly—for those who were dependent on him or on others. At home -he always shared his lunch with the negro children, and after the slaves -were freed, 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: “DEAR MOTHER: 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 be angry or impatient with -him. He could never bear to see any one angry or unhappy about him. As a -child he sought to heal the wounds of the sorrowing, and to the last, -though he was worried by the vast responsibilities he had taken on his -shoulders and disturbed by the thoughtless demands made on his time and -patience, he suffered more from the sorrows of others than from any -troubles of his own. When he went to school, he carried the same -qualities of sympathy and unselfishness that had made him charming as a -child. If, among his school-mates, there was to be found a poor or a -delicate child, he took that 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 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 journalistic 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 suggestiveness, 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 was -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 happiness of loving and of being beloved—the -happiness of doing good in directions that only the Recording Angel -could follow—and before he died Fame came and laid a wreath of flowers -at his feet. Fate or circumstance carried him into journalism. His “King -Hans” letters had attracted attention to him, and it seemed natural that -he should follow this humorous experiment into a more serious 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 substantial. 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 _Commercial_. Just how long Mr. -Grady edited the _Courier_, I have no record of; but one fine morning, -he thought he discovered a “ring” of some sort in the village. I do not -know whether it was a political or a financial ring. We 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 engage 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 language Mr. Grady had used. After some -conversation on the subject, the proprietor of the _Courier_ flatly -objected to the 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 _Daily Commercial_. It happened on the same -morning that the two papers, the _Courier_ and the _Daily Commercial_, -both appeared with the name of Henry W. Grady as editor. The ring, or -whatever it was, was smashed. Nobody heard anything more of it, and the -_Commercial_ was greeted by its esteemed contemporaries as 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 advertising 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. Occasionally 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 appreciative, 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 needless 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 Colonel 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 principal idea was to print the best newspaper in -the South, and for a time this scheme was carried out in a magnificent -way that could not last. Mr. Grady never bothered himself about the -finances, and the other editors were not familiar with the details of -business. The paper they published attracted more attention from -newspaper men than it did from the public, and it was finally compelled -to suspend. Its good will—and it had more good will than capital—was -sold to the _Constitution_, which had been managed in a more -conservative style. It is an interesting fact, however, that Mr. Grady’s -experiments in the _Herald_, which were failures, were successful when -tried on the _Constitution_, whose staff he joined when Captain Evan P. -Howell 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 early work on the -_Constitution_,—namely, that he was not fitted for the routine work of a -reporter. One day he would fill several 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. When -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 Mr. -Grady, whose mind was responsive to all suggestions and to all subjects. -The men who have made large reputations as talkers have had the habit of -selecting their own subjects and treating them dogmatically. We read of -Coleridge buttonholing an acquaintance and talking him to death on the -street, and of Carlyle compelling himself to be heard by sheer -vociferousness. Mr. Grady 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 imagination as to give it a new -importance. - -It was natural, under the circumstances, 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 distinguished men of the country have enjoyed the -dispensation 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 -continually harking back to some earlier period of his career. I have -alluded to his distaste for the routine of reportorial 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 all -the details of an event, and the imagination to group them properly so -as to give them their full force and effect. The result of this is shown -very clearly in his telegrams to the New York _Herald_ and the -_Constitution_ from Florida during the disputed count going on there in -1876 and the early part of 1877. Mr. Tilden selected Senator Joseph E. -Brown, among other prominent Democrats, to proceed to Florida, and look -after the Democratic case there. Mr. Grady went as the special -correspondent of the New 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 his 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, covering -the history of what is known politically as the Florida fraud, have no -equal in the newspaper 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 association 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 -afterwards to the management of the leading daily paper in the South. He -discovered that the men who had been successful 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 determination 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 the -opportunity of working side by side with the Senator and of studying the -methods by which he managed 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 section, 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 half a dozen men. Out of his contemplation of it grew the -lofty and 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 be properly appreciated by those who take into consideration the -unselfishness with which he devoted himself to this patriotic purpose. -Instinctively the country seemed to understand something of this, and it -was this instinctive understanding that caused him to be regarded with -affectionate 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 conspicuous 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 he 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 State. An independent candidate was running against -the Democratic nominee, and the campaign was one of the liveliest 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 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, and 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 -_Constitution’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 telegraph 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 imagination, and therefore on the Napoleonic order. - -And yet it is a singular fact that all his early journalistic 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 successful. 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 volume) -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 new and a surprising element in the field of journalism, and -his methods were beyond the comprehension of those who had grown gray -watching the dull and commonplace politicians wielding their 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 educated up to an -appreciation of what is bright and beautiful, or bold and interesting. -Some of Mr. Grady’s methods were new even in American journalism, and it -is no wonder that his dashing experiments with the _Daily Herald_ 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 progress 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 -interest in the _Constitution_. The day after the purchase was made, -Captain Howell 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. Captain 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 history 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 country. Mr. Grady represented the -prohibitionists and Captain 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 utterances of those who seem to believe that moral issues -can best be settled by a display of fanaticism, the tension was greatly -relieved by the wit, the humor, the good nature and the good sense which -the two leaders injected into the canvas. - -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 cases sentiment develops into a sentimentality -that is sometimes maudlin, sometimes officious, and frequently -offensive. In most people it develops as the weakest and least -attractive side of their character. It was the stronghold of Mr. 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 -matter 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 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 maintain 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 -enjoyment 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, and his dignity sensibly relaxed. “I was -only—ah—Grady, let me see you a moment.” - -The two walked to the edge of the pavement, and talked together some -little time. I did not overhear the conversation, 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 remarked 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.” - -We 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 radiant with mirth; “it -is the very thing. What next?” - -“Let me see,” said the Judge, closing his eyes reflectively—“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 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 luxuries 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 eloquent 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 difficult 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 manner 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 -about 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 house. He had a consultation with the Mayor at midnight, and cases of -actual suffering were relieved then and there. The next morning, which -was Sunday, the columns of the _Constitution_ teemed with the results of -the investigation which Mr. Grady and his reporters had made. A stirring -appeal was made in the editorial columns for aid for the poor—such an -appeal as only Mr. Grady could make. The plan of relief was carefully -made out. The _Constitution_ was prepared to take charge of whatever the -charitably disposed might feel inclined to send to its office—and -whatever 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 organized -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 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 - enchanting to walk abroad in its prodigal beauty, to breathe 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, marveling - 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 benediction 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, “Peace 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 contribute 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, and 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 year or two before he died he organized a dinner 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, and insisted in making contributions. Then it was decided -to accept contributions 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 ladies, 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 hundreds 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—sometimes 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 _Constitution_. 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 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 pleasantest, the easiest, and the safest - way. - - _Marry Early._ There is nothing that steadies a young fellow - like marrying a good girl and raising 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 necessary. 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 - 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 underrate 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 subject, 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 -gymnasium 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 -neglecting 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 exercises, to read every book in Athens, and in -those days every family in town had a library of more or less value. - -He had a large library of his own, and, by exchanging his books with -other boys and borrowing, he managed 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 compensation 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 congenial 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 amazing rapidity; it might be -said that he literally absorbed whatever interested him, and his -sympathies 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 reading Blackstone. His brother asked -him if he thought of studying law. “No,” was the reply, “but I think -everyone ought to read Blackstone. Besides, the book interests me.” With -the light and the humorous he always mixed the solids. He was fond of -history, and was intensely interested in all the social questions of the -day. He set great 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 when 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 this 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 unconscious, but -terribly certain and effective manner in which New England had fortified -herself by means of the literary genius 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 extreme. He desired it to be -provincial in a large way, for, in this country, provinciality 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. - -He was fond, as I have said, of Dickens, but his favorite novel, above -all others, was Victor Hugo’s “Les Misérables.” 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 -philanthropy, 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 particular. 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 and happy, and he was never tired of bringing up -recollections 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 happiness. 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 remembered 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 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 surroundings, 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-content. 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 condensed the opening of -his lecture for the purpose of making a newspaper sketch of the whole. -It is unfinished, but the 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 he was the 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 light. Trouble only strengthened the bonds of love and - sympathy that 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 a pitifully - wandering look—his fertile wife, in remote or imminent process - 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 woeful 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. - - During these 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 wobbling cart, gradually - 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 bitterness 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 consuming 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 hero, crushed into the very mud - by poverty—upon knees and hands beneath his burden—fighting - like a beast for his daily food—shut out inexorably from all - suggestions of home—embittered by starvation—with his - faculties chained down apparently to the dreary problem of - to-day—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 lectures ever delivered from the -platform. It was a beautiful idyll of home—an appeal, a eulogy—a -glimpse, as it were, of the passionate 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 an aggravating piece of profanity - that the owner gave Mr. Pitts five dollars 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 loosening 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 were 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 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, supplemented 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 a piece - 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 - appreciate it as they should. They have a way, when they see a - stranger examining 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 when a stroller - eyes his queer little home curiously, he puts on the air that - the Egyptian gentleman (now 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 ascertain its state of ripeness, or pressing its corners - solemnly as if testing 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 business 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-happiness 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 wistful 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 and again. As weak as his body was, as faltering as was the - little fountain that sent the life-blood from his heart—as - 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 straightforward 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 work-room 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 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 his 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, she - 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 fluttered 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 -individuality. The charm of his personal presence was indescribable. 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. What 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 some -way, to impart something of the charm of his personality 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 written and altogether inadequate -sketch. His versatility was such that it would be difficult, even in a -deliberately written 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 peacemaker? At the South, who shall take his -place as a leader, as an orator, and as a peacemaker? In Atlanta, who -shall take his place as all of these, and as a builder-up of our -interests, our enterprises, 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 unselfishness. 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 organized, 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 was equal -to the emergency. He so infused the town with his own energy and -enthusiasm that every citizen came to regard the exposition as a -personal matter, and the _Constitution_ 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 he -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 Exposition 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 educational features of such an institution appealed -strongly to his tastes and sympathies, and to that active missionary -spirit which impelled him to be continually on the alert in behalf of -humanity. He expended a good deal of energy on the Chautauqua and on the -programme 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 Confederate 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 flag -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 earnestness 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 -distinguished lecturers to Atlanta—among others the late 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 “Just Human,” 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 strangely-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 -chirography of the great, he took me to one side, and asked in an -undertone what those placards meant.” - -“That,” I replied, looking at him in astonishment, “is the subject of -your lecture.” - -“‘My lecture!’ 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 subject, 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 -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. Sometimes 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 successful 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 effect 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 enthusiasm, 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 witnessing the results he -brought about, that he had at his command some new element, or quality, -or gift not vouchsafed to other men. Whatever it was, he employed it -only for the good of his city, his State, his section, and his country. -His patriotism was as prominent and as permanent as his unselfishness. -His public spirit was unbounded, and, above all things, 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 remembering 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 prophet, if not the pioneer. He was -never tired of preaching about the rehabilitation of his section. Much -of the marvelous 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 was 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 development. The -development of the hidden wealth of the hills and valleys, while it -appealed strongly to an imagination 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 -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 investigation into the agricultural situation -in Georgia. The result was highly gratifying in every respect. The -correspondents 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 letters 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 -extravagant, that some of the editors, irritated by his optimism, as -well as by his success as a journalist, alluded to his figures 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 subjects 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 interest, and in the majority of instances, after making the -suggestion 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 visiting. 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 Savings 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 -relation 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 news 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 -_Constitution_ 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 accompanied 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. - -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 -visitors 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 conversed 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 happened 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 melodious -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 _Constitution_ 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 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 tremendous booms he stirred up, and the enterprises he -fostered, he remained comparatively poor. I think he purposely neglected -the opportunities for private gain that were offered him. There can be -no more doubt of his business 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 -comparatively poor. - -Mr. Grady took great pride in the _Weekly Constitution_, and that paper -stands to-day a monument to his business 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 rancorous, 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, 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 understanding 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 -something 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 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 excursions suggested -by his surroundings. Nevertheless, that speech, as it stands, reaches -the high-water mark of modern 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 profoundly touch the hearts of the people—that shall so -encompass the town with the spirit of mourning. - -I feel that I have been unable, in this hastily written sketch, to do -justice to the memory of this remarkable man. 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 emergencies 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 champion, or the country so ardent a lover, or -humanity so unselfish a friend, or the cause of the people so eloquent -an advocate. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - 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 of vigorous energy, sterling integrity, and great -independence of character. He was not literary by profession, but -devoted 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 volunteer 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. - -She led them in the ways of righteousness and truth, and always -sweetened their lives with the tenderness of indulgence, and the beauty -of devotion. Two of them still live to call her blessed. - -If memorials were meant only for the day and generation in which they -are written, who would venture upon the task of preparing one to Henry -W. Grady? His death occasioned such wide grief, and induced such -unprecedented demonstrations of sorrow, that nothing can be commensurate -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 personality which gave him -his marvelous power among men. He had a matchless grace of soul that -made him an unfailing 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 -described, 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 -air-castle over the framework of his fancy, or when pouring 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 language was as boundless -as the realm of thought, his ideas as beautiful as pictures in the sky, -and his pathos as deep as the well of tears. As an orator, he had no -equal in the South. He literally mastered his audience regardless of -their character, chaining them to the train of his thought and carrying -them captive to conviction. He moved upon their souls like the Divine -Spirit upon the waters, either lashing them into storms of enthusiasm, -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 citizen; 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 announcement 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 -the purposes of this sketch. It is unnecessary to give any details of -him prior to the time when he was a student in the University of -Georgia, at Athens. From that institution he was graduated in 1868. - -During his college days, he was a boy of bounding spirit, who, by an -inexplicable power over his associates, made for himself an unchallenged -leadership in all things with which he concerned himself. He was not a -close student. He never studied his text-books more than was necessary -to guarantee his rising from class to class, and to finally secure his -diploma. He had no fondness for any department of learning except -belles-lettres. In that branch 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 -election 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 “commencement -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,” and -in the treatment of his poetic theme he reveled in that wonderful 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 popular. He had -a real genius for putting himself _en rapport_ with all sorts and -conditions of men. His sympathy was quick-flowing and kind. Any sight or -story of suffering 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 -entitled 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 determination 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 orator, -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 -Charlottesville. This disappointment nearly broke his heart. He came -back home crestfallen and dispirited, and but for the wonderful buoyancy -of his nature, he might have succumbed permanently to the severe blow -which had been struck at his youthful aspirations and hopes. - -It was not long after his return to Georgia before he 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 he 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 conduct of that paper was -a revelation in Georgia journalism. Grady and Alliston combined probably -more genius than any two men who have ever owned a paper 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 everything to daily triumph, regardless of cost -or consequences. They went so far as to charter an engine in order that -they 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 undertaking, 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 disappointment 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 -compassed 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 faithful 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 had one offer -then open to him, namely, the editorial management of the Wilmington -(North Carolina) _Star_, at a salary of twelve hundred dollars 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 occasion 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 constitutional 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, 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 brilliant 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 thousand 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 said to have -fixed his noble destiny. It emancipated his genius from the bondage of -poverty, quickened his sensitive spirit with a new consciousness of -power for good, and inspired him to untiring service in the widest -fields of usefulness. He saw the hand of God in the favor that had -blessed him, and in acknowledgment of the Divine providence 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 was 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 memories and traditions of the Old South to have -been sanctified, 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 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 exhibition 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 reputation which spanned the continent. The most -magnificent effort of eloquence which he ever made was the soul-stirring -speech delivered in Boston on “The Race Problem,” just ten days before -he died. These three speeches were enough to confirm and perpetuate his -fame as a surpassing 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 abundance 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. - -True greatness is immortal. Real patriotic purposes are never swallowed -up in death. Good works well begun 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 American citizens. In -him was combined such breadth of usefulness 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 -shining 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. - - ------- - -ON THE 21ST OF DECEMBER, 1886, MR. GRADY, IN RESPONSE TO AN URGENT - INVITATION, DELIVERED THE 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 advisedly, 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 -appreciate 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 honors 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 remember the man whose wife -sent him to a neighbor with a pitcher of milk, and who, tripping on the -top step, fell with such casual interruptions as the landings afforded -into the basement, and, while picking himself up, had the pleasure of -hearing his wife call out: “John, did you break the pitcher?” - -“No, I didn’t,” said John, “but I’ll be dinged if I don’t.” - -So, while those who call me from behind may inspire me with energy, if -not with courage, I ask an indulgent hearing from you. I beg that you -will bring your full faith 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 together the connecting pages. The next -morning he read on the bottom of one page, “When Noah was one hundred -and twenty years old he 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 puzzled at this. He -read it again, verified it, and then said: “My friends, this is the -first time I ever met this in the Bible, but I accept this as 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 annually freighted with the rich -eloquence of your speakers—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 equilibrium if for nothing else. - -Let me remind you that the Virginia Cavalier first challenged France on -the continent—that Cavalier, John Smith, gave New England its very name, -and was so pleased with the job that he has been handing his own name -around ever since—and that while Myles Standish 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 courting 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 salvation, as he has always -done, with engaging gallantry, and we will hold no controversy as to his -merits. Why should we? 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 were lost in the storm of the first Revolution, and -the American citizen, supplanting 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 government and -establishing the voice of the people as the voice of God. - -My friends, Dr. Talmage has told you 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 -Puritan 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. -He was greater than Puritan, greater than Cavalier, in that he was -American, and that in his honest form were first gathered the vast and -thrilling forces of his ideal government—charging it with such -tremendous meaning and elevating it above human suffering that -martyrdom, though infamously aimed, came as a fitting crown to a life -consecrated from the cradle to human liberty. Let us, each cherishing -the traditions and honoring his fathers, build 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. - -Dr. 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 the 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 testimony to his children of his fidelity and faith, -he turned his face southward from Appomattox in April, 1865. Think of -him as ragged, half-starved, heavy-hearted, enfeebled by want and -wounds, having fought to exhaustion, he surrenders 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 does he find 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 prosperous 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 system, feudal in its magnificence, swept away; -his people without law or legal status; his comrades slain, and the -burdens of others heavy on his shoulders. Crushed by defeat, his very -traditions are gone. Without money, credit, employment, material, or -training; and beside all this, confronted with the gravest problem that -ever met human intelligence—the establishing of a status for the vast -body of his liberated slaves. - -What 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 prosperity, 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 fields that ran red with human -blood in April were green 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 frankness prevailed. “Bill Arp” struck the key-note -when he said: “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 mortar of our homes, and have -builded therein not one ignoble prejudice or memory. - -But what is the sum of our work? We have found out that in the summing -up the free negro counts more than he did as a slave. We have planted -the schoolhouse on the hilltop and made it free to white and black. We -have sowed towns and cities in the place of theories, and put business -above politics. We have challenged your spinners in Massachusetts and -your iron-makers in Pennsylvania. We have learned that the $400,000,000 -annually received from our cotton crop will make us rich when the -supplies that make it are home-raised. We have reduced the commercial -rate of interest from 24 to 6 per cent., and are floating 4 per cent. -bonds. We have learned that one northern 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. We have reached the point that marks perfect harmony in every -household, when the husband confesses that the pies which his wife cooks -are as good as those his mother used 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 with -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 crabgrass which sprung from Sherman’s cavalry camps, until -we are ready to lay odds on the Georgia Yankee as he manufactures relics -of the battle-field in a one-story shanty and squeezes pure olive oil -out of his cotton seed, against any down-easter that ever swapped wooden -nutmegs for flannel sausage in the valleys of Vermont. Above all, we -know that we have achieved in these “piping times of peace” a fuller -independence for the South than that which our fathers sought to win in -the forum by their 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 suffering, and honest, brave and generous always. -In the record of her social, industrial and political 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 solution? Let the record speak to -the point. No section shows a more prosperous laboring population than -the negroes of the South, none in fuller sympathy with the employing and -land-owning class. He 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 existence -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 human -liberty, against which the arms of man cannot prevail—while those of our -statesmen who 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 remember with what fidelity for four -years he guarded our defenseless 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 liberty he fought in -open battle, and when at last he raised his black and humble hands that -the shackles might be struck off, those hands were innocent of wrong -against his helpless charges, and worthy to be taken in loving grasp by -every man who honors loyalty and devotion. Ruffians have maltreated him, -rascals have misled him, philanthropists established a bank for him, but -the South, with the North, protests 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 intelligent sympathy and confidence. Faith has been kept -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 Union. 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 régime 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 possible under -slavery. Thus was gathered in the hands of a splendid and chivalric -oligarchy the substance that should have been diffused among the people, -as the rich blood, under certain artificial conditions, is gathered at -the heart, filling that with affluent rapture but leaving the body chill -and colorless. - -The old South rested everything on slavery and agriculture, unconscious -that these could neither give nor maintain healthy growth. The new South -presents a perfect democracy, the oligarchs leading in the popular -movement—a social system compact and closely knitted, less splendid on -the surface, but stronger at the core—a hundred farms for every -plantation, fifty homes for every palace—and a diversified industry that -meets the complex need of this complex age. - -The new South is enamored of her new work. Her soul is stirred with the -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, full-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 wisdom 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 convictions 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. But, sir, speaking from the shadow of that memory which 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 mine, and I am glad that the omniscient God -held the balance of battle in His Almighty hand and that human slavery -was swept forever from American soil, the American Union was saved from -the wreck of war. - -This message, Mr. President, comes to you from consecrated ground. Every -foot of soil about the city in which I live is as sacred as a -battle-ground of the republic. Every hill that invests it is hallowed to -you by the blood of your brothers who died for your victory, and doubly -hallowed to us by the blow of those who died hopeless, but undaunted, in -defeat—sacred soil to all of us—rich with memories 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 -glory of American 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 message? Will 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? Will she withhold, save in -strained courtesy, the hand which straight from his soldier’s heart -Grant offered to Lee at Appomattox? Will she make the vision of a -restored and happy people, which gathered above the couch of your dying -captain, filling 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 cheat and -delusion? If she does, the South, never abject in asking for -comradeship, must accept with dignity its refusal; but if she does not -refuse to accept in frankness and sincerity this message of good will -and friendship, then will the prophecy of Webster, delivered in this -very society forty years ago amid tremendous applause, become true, be -verified in its fullest sense, when he said: “Standing hand to hand and -clasping hands, we should remain united as we have been for sixty years, -citizens of the same country, members of the same government, united, -all united now and united forever.” There have been difficulties, -contentions, 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 th’ intestine shock, - Shall now, in mutual well beseeming ranks, - March all one way.” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - THE SOUTH AND HER PROBLEMS. - - ------- - -AT THE DALLAS, TEXAS, STATE FAIR, ON THE 26TH OF OCTOBER, 1887, MR. -GRADY WAS THE ORATOR OF THE DAY. HE SAID: - - - “Who saves his country, saves all things, and all things saved - will bless him. Who lets his country die, lets all things die, - and all things dying curse him.” - - -These words are 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 thriving 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 this morning to the chief -metropolis of the State of Texas. If it but holds this pre-eminence—and -who can doubt in this auspicious presence that it will—the uprising -tides of Texas’s prosperity will carry it to glories unspeakable. For I -say in soberness, the future of this marvelous and amazing empire, that -gives broader and deeper significance to statehood 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 -fine words are paltry, and this seems to me to be such a time. So I -shall turn away 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 interests; 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, stretching 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, having -triumphed in every forum, fell at last by the sword. They maintained an -institution—but that, having been administered in the fullest wisdom of -man, fell at last in the higher wisdom of God. They fought a war—but the -prejudices of that war have died, its sympathies have broadened, and its -memories are already the priceless treasure of the republic that is -cemented forever with its blood. They looked out together upon the ashes -of their homes and the desolation of their fields—but out of pitiful -resource they have fashioned their homes anew, and plenty rides on the -springing harvests. In all the past there is nothing to draw them into -essential or lasting alliance—nothing in all that heroic record that -cannot be rendered unfearing from 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 depends. 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 she 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 companionship, the South must bear this problem, -the awful responsibility 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 emphasized rather than relieved, as I 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 surpassing -problem work out her own salvation in the fear of God—but of God alone. - -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 section, its wealth garnered, its resources utilized, and its -rehabilitation complete—and restore to the world this problem solved in -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 draw 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. - -What 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 children walked in safety, and the -unprotected homes rested in peace. Unmarshaled, the black battalions -moved patiently to the fields in the morning to feed the armies their -idleness would have starved, and at night gathered anxiously at the big -house to “hear the news from marster,” though conscious that his victory -made their chains enduring. Everywhere humble and kindly; the bodyguard -of the helpless; the 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 master 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 constant -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 Davis and Calhoun had gone -forth, the policy of twelve commonwealths. When his late master -protested against his misrule, the federal drum-beat rolled around his -strong-holds, and from a hedge of federal bayonets he grinned in -good-natured insolence. From the proven incapacity of that day has he -far advanced? Simple, credulous, impulsive—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 -awaiting opportunity, less menacing than when its purpose was plain and -its way direct? - -My countrymen, right here the South 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 demands. 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 considered. 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 shiftless 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 cupidity tempted, his impulses misdirected, his -passions inflamed. 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 -overbidding for place and patronage—irritation increasing with each -conflict—the bitterness and desperation seizing every heart—political -debauchery deepening, as each faction staked its all in the miserable -game—there would be no end to this, until our suffrage was hopelessly -sullied, our people forever divided, and our most sacred rights -surrendered. - -One thing further should be said in perfect frankness. Up to this point -we have dealt with ignorance and corruption—but beyond this point a -deeper issue confronts us. Ignorance may struggle to enlightenment, out -of corruption 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 off, 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 to us 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 the 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 hazards—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 cannot 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 -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 the 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 surrendered 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 his heart. -Not a negro who does not feel its power. It is not a sectional issue. It -speaks in Ohio, and in Georgia. It speaks wherever the Anglo-Saxon -touches an alien race. It has just spoken in universally approved -legislation in excluding the Chinaman from our gates, not for his -ignorance, vice or corruption, but because he sought to establish 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 always and everywhere. It fed Alfred -when he wrote the charter of English liberty; it gathered about Hampden -as he stood beneath the oak; it thundered in Cromwell’s veins as he -fought his king; it humbled Napoleon at Waterloo; it has touched the -desert and jungle with undying glory; it carried the drumbeat of England -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 section as the sixth of next -November. If President Cleveland 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 morning to the -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 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.” 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 rifled 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 sure 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 depleted 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 now 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 to me than my life, and -that he must in turn bequeath it unsolved to his children, I cry out -against the inhumanity that deepens its difficulties with this -incendiary threat, and beclouds its real issue with inflaming passion. - -This problem is not only enduring, but it is widening. The exclusion of -the Chinese is the first step in the revolution that shall save liberty -and law and religion to this land, and in peace and order, not enforced -on the gallows or at 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 homogeneous people that established -and has maintained it. The next step will be taken when some brave -statesman, looking Demagogy 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 excluding 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 will be fully understood, and -everywhere approved. Until then, let us—giving the negro every right, -civil and political, measured in that fullness the strong should always -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 conflict, and hold in insecurity. - -All this is no unkindness to the negro—but rather that he may be led in -equal rights and in peace to his uttermost 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 achievement. 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 Cæsar -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 approval 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 -rendered 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 history 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 stock, labor, and implements gone—gathered up -the fragments 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 planted—his children in want, his neighborhood -in chaos—working under new conditions and retrieving every error by a -costly year—plodding all day down the furrow, hopeless and adrift, save -when at night he went back to his broken home, where his wife, cheerful -even then, renewed his courage, while she ministered to him in loving -tenderness. Who would have thought as during those lonely and terrible -days he walked behind the plow, locking the sunshine in the glory of his -harvest, and spreading the showers and the verdure of his field—no -friend near save nature that smiled at his earnest touch, and God that -sent him the message of good cheer through the passing breeze and the -whispering leaves—that he would in twenty years, having carried these -burdens uncomplaining, make a crop of $800,000,000. 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 replaced the soldier. Commerce has whitened new -seas, and the merchant has occupied new areas. Steam has made of the -earth a chess-board, on which men play for markets. 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 amazing prairies might hear -in their pauses the hoof-beats of antipodean herds marching to meet -them. Under Holland’s dykes, the cheese and butter makers fight American -dairies. The hen cackles around the world. California challenges -vine-clad France. The dark continent is disclosed through meshes of -light. There is competition 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 existence, 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 trespass 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 stupendous 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 control 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 elsewhere, 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 that of the South has increased nearly 5,000,000. -Further than this: Since 1872, population in Europe has increased 13 per -cent., and cotton consumption in Europe has increased 50 per cent. Still -further: Since 1880 cotton consumption in Europe has increased 28 per -cent., wool only 4 per cent., and flax 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 fibre has increased its 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, supplanting flax and wool, -and it peeps from the satchel of every business 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 exhaustless quantity, in such richness, -and in such adjustment, that iron can be made and manufacturing done -cheaper than elsewhere on this continent, is to now command, and at last -control, the world’s market for iron. The South now sells iron, through -Pittsburg, in New York. She has driven Scotch iron first from the -interior, and finally from American ports. Within our lives she will -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 is now -actually building, or has finished this year, furnaces that will produce -more than her entire product 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 quantity 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 assessed 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 swamps of cypress and gum. Think of it. In cotton a -monopoly. In iron and coal establishing swift mastery. In granite and -marble developing equal advantage and resource. In yellow pine and hard -woods the world’s treasury. Surely the basis of the South’s wealth and -power is laid by the hand of the Almighty God, and its prosperity has -been established by divine law which work in eternal justice and not by -taxes levied on its neighbors 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 enactment, and the operation of which cannot be -limited by artificial 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. - -Whenever the greed for a money crop unbalances the wisdom of husbandry, -the money crop is a curse. When it stimulates the general economy of the -farm, it is the profiting 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 say, “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 supplies, 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 learning 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 forgotten. 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 cotton. 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 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 manliness 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 and not in -a receipted mortgage that discharges his debt, but does not restore his -freedom—then shall be breaking the fullness of our day. Great is King -Cotton! But to lie at his feet while the usurer and grain-raiser bind us -in subjection, 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 -enriches us—this is to carry us as far in the way of happiness 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 material to augment the wealth and power of distant communities. - -Texas produces a million and a half bales of cotton, which yield her -$60,000,000. That cotton, woven into common goods, would add $75,000,000 -to Texas’s income from this crop, and employ 220,000 operatives, who -would spend within her borders more than $30,000,000 in wages. -Massachusetts manufactures 575,000 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 has a clean advantage -for manufacturing this cotton of one per cent a pound over -Massachusetts. The little village of Grand Rapids began manufacturing -furniture 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 -$126,000,000 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 furnishing work for the -artisan and mechanic if you meet the demand of your population for -cheaper and essential manufactured articles. One-half million workers -would be needed for this, and with their families would double the -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 material -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 -majesty 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, comprising 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 -development 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 his 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 system of tariff taxes levied on the -unmixed agriculture of these States for the protection of industries to -our neighbors to the North, a system on which the Hon. Roger Q. -Mills—that lion of the tribe of Judah—has at last laid his mighty paw -and under the indignant touch of which it trembles to its center. That -system is to be revised and its duties reduced, as we all agree it -should be, though I should say in perfect frankness I do not agree with -Mr. Mills in it. Let us hope this will be done with care and industrious -patience. Whether 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 at 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 393,000,000 bushels to her grain crops, and 182,000,000 head -to her live stock. This has not lost one bale of her 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 back in implements from $20 to $100 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 $8 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 $227,000,000 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 the raw material and in this growing -market. Let the fullness 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. We buy from Brazil -$50,000,000 worth of goods, and sell her $8,500,000. England buys only -$29,000,000, and sells her $35,000,000. Of $65,000,000 in cotton goods -bought by Central and South America, over $50,000,000 went to England. -Of $331,000,000 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 harvest 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. - -A few words for the young men of Texas. I am glad that I can speak to -them at all. Men, especially young men, look back for their inspiration -to what is best in their traditions. Thermopylæ cast Spartan sentiments -in heroic mould and sustained Spartan arms for more than a century. -Thermopylæ 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 -Fanning, though dead still live. Their voices rang above the din of -Goliad and the glory of San Jacinto, 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 demigods through a thousand battle-fields, and it is the spirit of -the Alamo that whispers from their graves held in every State of the -Union, ennobling their 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 traditions 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 a century luminous with achievement, for the first 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 surgeons 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 sundown 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 -horizon, 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 in tranquil peace with the roses climbing to its door, and -the trees whispering to its windows, and dozing in the sunshine, the -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 sorrow 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. - -“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 the hand that had been nailed to the cross on ebbing life and -held on the staunch until the sun went down and the stars came out, and -shone down in the brave man’s heart and blurred in his glistening eyes, -and the lanterns of the surgeons 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 countrymen.” 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 himself 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 -humanity. As I think of it, a vision of surpassing beauty unfolds to my -eyes. I see a South, the home of fifty millions of people, who rise up -every day to call from blessed cities, vast hives of industry and of -thrift; her country-sides the treasures 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 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. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - AT THE AUGUSTA EXPOSITION. - - ------- - -IN NOVEMBER, 1887, AT THE AUGUSTA EXPOSITION, MR. 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 thanksgiving, 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 basis of this day’s feast, gather about -them a company that in cordial 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 estrangement into love—having brought the harvests from -the ashes, and raised us homes from our ruins, and touched our scarred -land all over with beauty and with peace—permits us to assemble here -to-day and rejoice amid the garnered heaps of our treasure. Your -visitors give thanks because, coming to a city that from deep disaster -has risen with energy and courage unequaled, and witnessing an -exposition that in the sweep of its mighty arms and the splendor of its -gathered riches surpasses all we have attempted, they find 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 digression, because I -now meet face to face, and can render service 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 resentment 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 I had dared to ask. I know not -what the future may hold for the life that recent events have jostled -from its accustomed path. It would be affectation to say that I am -careless—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 winning or wearing -of which my State is disadvantaged, and my hand refuses to surrender it, -I pray God that in remembrance 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 ennoble, no triumph advance, and no -victory satisfy that is not won and worn in the weal of the people and -the prosperity 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 Carolinians 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 -surprised 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 -industry 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 kindness 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 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 enjoyed victory together, and -together reaped in honor and dignity the fruits of their triumph. Heart -locked in heart, they have stood undaunted in the desolation of defeat -and, fortified by unfailing comradeship, have wrought gladness and peace -from the tumult and bitterness of despair. Of them it may be truly said, -they have known no rivalry save that emulation which inspires each, and -embitters 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 expounding, 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 McDuffie, 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 -Timrod 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 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 Kentucky. 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. Indeed, 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. The South had -thirty-eight per cent. of the electoral vote in 1880. It is doubtful if -she will have over twenty-five per cent. in 1890. To remain solid, -therefore, is to incur the danger of being placed in perpetual minority, -and practically shut out from participation in the government, into -which Georgia and Massachusetts came as equals—that was fashioned in -their common wisdom, defended in their common blood, and bought of their -common treasure. - -But what of the other danger? 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 negro 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 word 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 following than a shrewd clique could rally and control in -every southern State, and daring less of plunder and insolence than that -following would sanction or support, blotted out party lines in New -York, and made its intelligence 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. We deal with the ignorant, that scourged from power -to-day, may be deluded to-morrow into assaulting the very position from -which they have been lashed. Never did robbers find followers more to -their mind than the emancipated slaves of reconstruction days. Ignorant -and confiding, they could be committed to any excess, led to any -outrage. Deep 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 defying federal power, stood like a stone -wall before the uttermost 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 qualifying 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 suffrage, 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 disgusted go to the rear. The shrewd and unscrupulous are put -to the front, and the negro, carrying with him the balance of power, -falls at last into the grasp of the faction which is most cunning and -conscienceless. National parties, finding here their cheapest market and -widest field, will pour millions into the 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 section 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 Union. I was -taught from my cradle to love it, and my father, 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 because 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 problems -that perplex the world and established the axioms that must uplift and -regenerate humanity. I love it because 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 her -precious blood wrote her loyalty in its crimson bars. I love it, because -I know that its flag, fluttering from the misty heights of the future, -followed by a devoted people once estranged and thereby closer bound, -shall blaze out the way, 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 Iowa and Georgia, Texas and Massachusetts may stand side -by side without surprise. 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 emancipation 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 -assuredly—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 North put on the prostrate, impoverished, and helpless South -when it enfranchised the body of our late slaves. We would not undo this -if we could. We 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. -Blaine 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 hearts 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 -as 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 -necessity—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 brothers in the South would bind us as closely -were the necessity here.” Let us invite immigrants and meet them with -such cordial welcome that they will abide with us in brotherhood, and so -enlarge the body of intelligence and integrity, 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 -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 -progress, 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 dishonor 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 justice 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 unscrupulous. 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 influence. 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 prosperity 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 -from him in sympathy and affection, what we gain in his confiding -alliance and confirm in his awakening judgment, that is precious and -shall endure—and out of it shall come 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 the 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 Republicans 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 friendliness 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 departure 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 -tender 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 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 -comradeship, 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 narrow 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 brutality in the North. But I do not -believe there was a negro voter in the South kept away from the polls by -fear of violence 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 legitimate 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 intimidated voters and a false -count, they will blunder from the start, for, beginning in error, they -will end in worse. This whole matter should be left now with the people, -with whom it must be left at last—that people most interested in its -honorable settlement. External pressure but irritates and delays. The -South has voluntarily laid down the certainty of power which dividing -her 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 suffered—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 people—her brothers and her kindred—that in passion -forced this problem into the keeping of her helpless hands. - -Shall she have it? - -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 Harrison’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 governor 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 editorial 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 usurpations 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 congressmen?—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 community 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 such passion as this. Hear another -witness, General Sherman, not in hot speech but in cold print: - - - “The negro must be allowed to vote, and his vote must be - counted, otherwise, so sure 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 is the greatest living soldier of the Union army. He covered -the desolation he sowed in city and country through these States with -the maxim that “cruelty in war, is mercy”—and no one lifted the cloak. -But when he insults the men he conquered, and endangers 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 Marlborough, 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 helplessness 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 -flaming sword of his archangel will enforce his decree and work out his -plan of unchangeable wisdom. - -I do not believe the people of the North will be committed to a violent -policy. I believe in the good faith and fair play of the American -people. These noisy insects of the hour will perish with the heat that -warmed them into life, and when their pestilent cries have ceased, the -great clock of the Republic will strike the slow-moving and tranquil -hours, and the watchmen from the streets will cry, “All’s well—all’s -well!” I thank God that through the mists of passion that already cloud -our northern horizon comes the clear, strong voice of President Harrison -declaring 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 pestilent, the country -will appeal from his decision. In Indiana and New York more than two -million votes were cast. By less than 16,000 majority these States were -given to Harrison, 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 -friendliness and sympathy, more champions and friends, through the -influence of our industrial growth, than through political 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. - -The tide of immigration is already springing 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 their 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 countrymen, 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 Sunday morning shall not stream -forth over towns and meadows 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 -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 salvation, 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 -distinguished gentleman said that “certain upstarts and speculators 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 “upstarts” said in a -speech in New York: “In answering the toast to the New South, I accept -that name in no disparagement 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 pristine beauty. -Wherever they have driven—in marketplace, putting youth against -experience, poverty against capital—in the shop earning in the light of -their forges and the sweat of their faces the bread and meat for those -dependent upon them—in the forum, eloquent by instinct, able though -unlettered—on the farm, locking the sunshine in their harvests and -spreading the showers on their fields—everywhere my heart has been with -them, and I thank God that they are comrades and countrymen of mine. I -have stood with them shoulder to shoulder as they met new conditions -without surrendering old faiths—and I have been content to feel the -grasp of their hands and the throb of their hearts, and hear the music -of their quick step as they marched unfearing into new and untried ways. -If I should attempt 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 advantage -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 suspicion -of the 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 Alhambra, and looking out to sea for the return of -the lost Armada.” There is pathos but no derision in this picture to me. -These men were our fathers. Their lives were stainless. Their hands were -daintily cast, and the civilization they builded in tender and engaging -grace hath not been equaled. The scenes amid which they moved, as -princes among men, have vanished forever. A grosser and material day has -come, in which their gentle hands could garner but scantily, and their -guileless hearts fend but feebly. Let them sit, therefore, in the -dismantled porches of their homes, into which dishonor hath never -entered, to which discourtesy is a stranger—and gaze out to the sea, -beyond the horizon 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 temple—its pillars founded in justice, its arches -springing to the skies, its treasuries filled with substance; liberty -walking in its corridors; art adorning its walls; religion filling its -aisles with incense,—and here let them rest in honorable 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. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - AGAINST CENTRALIZATION. - - ------- - -ADDRESS DELIVERED BEFORE THE SOCIETIES OF THE UNIVERSITY OF VIRGINIA, - JUNE 25, 1889. - - -MR. PRESIDENT, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN: In thanking you for this -cordial—this Virginia—welcome, let me say that it satisfies 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 honorable -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 memory 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 neighboring 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, 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 startled 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 sympathy 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 Virginia. 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 stainless 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 of this Republic. -The fixed stars are fading from the sky, and we grope in uncertain -light. Strange shapes have come with the night. Established ways are -lost—new roads perplex, and widening fields stretch beyond the sight. -The unrest of dawn impels us to and fro—but Doubt stalks amid the -confusion, and even on the beaten paths the shifting crowds are halted, -and from the shadows the sentries cry: “Who comes there?” In the -obscurity of the morning tremendous forces are at work. Nothing is -steadfast or approved. The miracles of the present 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 partisans -and the prey of spoilsmen. Trade is restless in the grasp of monopoly, -and commerce shackled with limitation. The cities are swollen and the -fields are stripped. Splendor streams from the castle, and squalor -crouches in the home. 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 along the highway. Amid it all -beats the great American heart undismayed, and standing fast by the -challenge of his conscience, 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 besetting problems? Who shall rally the -people to the defense of their liberties and stir them until they shall -cry aloud to be led against the enemies of the Republic? You, my -countrymen, you! The university is the training camp of the future. The -scholar the champion of the coming years. Napoleon over-ran Europe with -drum-tap and bivouac—the next Napoleon shall form his battalions at the -tap of the schoolhouse bell and his captains shall come with cap and -gown. Waterloo was won at Oxford—Sedan at Berlin. So Germany plants her -colleges in the shadow of the French forts, and the professor smiles -amid his students 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. Science is everything! -She butchers a hog in Chicago, draws Boston within three hours of New -York, renews the famished 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 burnished 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-government, 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 threaten its peace and prosperity, and the means by -which they may be honorably averted. - -The unmistakable danger that threatens free government in America, is -the increasing tendency to concentrate in the Federal government powers -and privileges that should be left with the States, and to create powers -that neither the State nor Federal government should have. Let it be -understood at once that in discussing this question I seek to revive no -dead issue. We 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 made good forever. But the sovereignty of the -States in the Union was never involved, and the Republic that survived -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 -unbalancing 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 the planets 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 a people, who can best -govern themselves, the central authority is made stronger and more -splendid! - -Concurrent with this political drift is another movement, less formal -perhaps, but not less dangerous—the consolidation 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 miraculous -wealth-gathering as are every-day tales to us. Aladdin’s lamp is dimmed, -and Monte Cristo becomes commonplace 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 by the status. -What is to be the end of this swift piling up of wealth? Twenty years -ago but few cities had their millionaires. To-day almost every town has -its dozen. Twenty men can be named who can each buy a sovereign State at -its tax-book value. The youngest nation, America, 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 grows -and grows, while in its shadow starvation and despair stalk among the -people, and swarm with increasing legions against the 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 -representatives 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 of this year’s rapacity, and tells them—men who -live in the sweat of their brows, and stand between God and Nature—that -they must submit to the infamy because they are helpless, then the first -fruits of this system are gathered and 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 arbitrary 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. - -We have read of the robber barons of the Rhine who from their castles -sent a shot across the bow of every passing craft, and descending as -hawks from the crags, tore and robbed and plundered the voyagers until -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 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 capital. 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 Czar 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 government—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 dedicating it to freedom, we 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.” - -We see this feudal tendency, swept away by Mr. Jefferson, revived by the -conditions of our time, aided by the government with its grant of -enormous powers and its amazing class legislation. It has given the -corporation more power than Mr. Jefferson stripped from the individual, -and has set up a creature without soul or conscience 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 -feudal 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 centralize 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 universal clamor for -strong government. The weak will demand it for protection against the -people restless under oppression—the patriotic for protection against -the plutocracy that scourges and robs—the corrupt hoping to buy of one -central body distant from local 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 -protection 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 centralist and the monopolist—the strong government -protecting 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 people in the market, in the -courts, at the ballot box—everywhere—with the infamous challenge: “What -are you going to do about it?” And so the government protects and the -barons oppress, and the people suffer and grow strong. And when the -battle for liberty is joined—the centralist and the plutocrat, -entrenched behind the deepening powers of the government, and the -countless ramparts of money bags, oppose to the vague but earnest onset -of the people the power of the trained phalanx and the conscienceless -strength of the mercenary. - -Against this tendency who shall protest? Those who believe that a -central government means a strong government, and a strong government -means repression—those who believe that this vast Republic, with its -diverse interests 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 passion 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 Republic, 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 central despotism could devise or controlled by any -armies it could marshal—you who know these things protest with all the -earnestness of your souls against the policy and the methods that make -them possible. - -What is the remedy? To exalt the hearthstone—to strengthen the home—to -build up the individual—to magnify 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. He 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 - land where it may get the love of tender kinship for the face of - the earth, for the sounds and accents that 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 pathway. 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 homestead 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 lanes and well-remembered paths until, amid the scenes of his -boyhood, he gathers up the broken threads of his life and owns the 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 flag as points of strength and -protection. But the citizen standing in the doorway of his -home—contented on his threshold—his family gathered about his -hearthstone—while the evening of a well-spent day closes 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 -knowledge 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 Jackson 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—these, 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 the people on -the other. At all hazard, stand with the people and the threatened -States. The choice may not be easily made. Wise men may hesitate and -patriotic men divide. The culture, the strength, the mightiness of the -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 was from the golden age of Augustus that the Roman empire -staggered to its fall. The integrity of the States 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 government 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 liberty 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 fearless—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 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 homogeneity 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 constitution 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 knowledge 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, shall lift up the -suffering and control the strong. To the jangling of races and creeds -that threaten the courts of men and the temples of God, oppose the home -and the citizen—a homogeneous and honest people—and the simple faith -that sustained your fathers and mothers in their stainless lives and led -them serene and smiling into the valley of the shadow. - -Let it be understood in my parting words to you that I am no pessimist -as to this Republic. I always bet on sunshine 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 hurrying her to heights -that dazzle and blind all mortal eyes—but I know that beyond the -uttermost glory is enthroned the Lord God Almighty, 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 liberty, 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 Jefferson died—with the light of -another world beating in his face until he seems to have caught the -wisdom of the Infinite and towers half human and half divine from his -eminence—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 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 -language, 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! - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - THE FARMER AND THE CITIES. - - ------- - -MR. 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 several thousand -people. Over there, in smelling distance, where we can almost hear the -lisping of the mop as it caresses the barbecued lamb or the pottering of -the skewered pig as he leisurely turns from fat to crackling, 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, -defenseless 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 all 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 -confession 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 heartily invoke God’s guidance in -what I say, that I shall utter no word to soil this temple of His, and -no sentiment not approved in His wisdom; and as for you, when the time -comes—as it will come—when you prefer barbecued shote to raw orator, and -feel that you can be happier at that table than in this forum, just say -the word and I will be with you heart and soul! - -I am tempted to yield to the gaiety of this scene, to the flaunting -banners of the trees, the downpouring sunshine, the garnered plenty over -there, this smiling and hospitable crowd, and, throwing serious affairs -aside, to speak to you to-day as the bird sings—without care and without -thought. I 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 intelligent audience, can in -honor or in courage disregard. I 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 schoolhouse. 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 -pic-nic—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 enriches 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 guaranteed that -neither government nor society shall abridge, by statute or custom, his -just and honest proportion of the wealth he created, but that he 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 Michigan 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 agricultural 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 endure. 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 organization 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 economy of the day, he is put at a disadvantage that keeps -him poor while other classes grow rich, and that bars his way to -prosperity and independence. General Toombs once said that the farmer, -considered the most conservative type of citizenship, is really the most -revolutionary. That the farmers 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 farmers of England have captured and -held London. It was the farmers of Mecklenburg that made the first -American declaration, and Putnam left his plow standing in the furrow as -he hurried to lead the embattled farmers who fought at Concord and -Lexington. I realize it is impossible 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 -farmer, 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 marching 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 dangers that threaten -it—it will require the earnest and united effort of every patriotic -citizen, be he farmer, or merchant, or lawyer, or manufacturer. Let us -consider then the situation, 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 benediction 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 hearthstone, is his superior. For, -while he holds the purse-strings of Germany, she holds the heart-strings -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 political 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 husband’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 sheltered your babyhood, -with the graves of your dead in that plain enclosure yonder—here men and -women, heart to heart, with not a man dismayed, not a woman idle—while -the multiplied wolves of debt and mortgage, and trust and monopoly, -swarm from every thicket; here we must fight 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 movement 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 more 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 that 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 -village 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 rapidity that rural population that is the -strength and the safety of the people—slow to anger and thus a -safeguard, but terrible 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 -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 splitter. 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 gentlemen, and -afar from the cities’ maddening strife established 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 -deliberation 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 multiplied beyond -reason, that the factories can in six months supply the demand of -twelve—that machinery is constantly 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 recruits of the -idle and dangerous classes, and we can appreciate something of the -danger that comes with this increasing 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 mortgaging 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 bulldog 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 sunshine, 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 languishing 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 warehouses, and have left more than a million -dollars for the improvement of their farms and their homes. And year -after year this drain not only continues, but deepens. What will be the -end? Ireland has found it. Her peasants in their mud cabins, sending -every tithe of their earnings 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 question that is the shame of the world would be -settled without 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, and 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 deplore 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 industrial 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—$368,000,000. 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 started the mills of industry and of trade. Since -that desolate year, when, urging 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 rustling leaves, he has dug from the soil of Georgia -more than $1,000,000,000 worth of product. From this mighty resource -great cities have been builded and countless fortunes amassed—but amid -all the splendor he has remained the hewer of wood and the drawer of -water. He had made the cities $60,000,000 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 dangerous 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 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 -villager 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 diffused in -the towns and the villages of the one are centralized 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 chance instrument of his infamous scheme. Why, our fathers declared -war against England, their mother country, from whose womb they came, -because she levied two cents a pound on our tea, and yet, without a -murmur, we submit to ten times this tax placed on the bread of our -mouths, and levied by a private citizen for no reason save his greed, -and no right save his might. Were a man to enter an humble home in -England, bind the father helpless, stamp out the fire 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 filled. 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 prosperity—this -people made the prey and the sport of plunderers who levy tribute -through a system that mocks at God’s recurring rains, knows not the -farmer, and locks competition in 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 abundant supply until the wheels of industry -stop—in oppressing 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 unusual 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 powers 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 guarantee of peace and prosperity and liberty and -enlightenment diffused among the people. To defend this policy, that -cannot be maintained by argument or sustained by the love or confidence -of the people, it rallies under its flag the mercenaries of the -Republic, the syndicate, the trust, the 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 defiance 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 monopolist, 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 government 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 committed 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 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 soldiers—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 Democracy which flamed in his heart, -that bill would have been law to-day. A worse bill will be offered. -There is a surplus 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 protective 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 pensioners, 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 -helpless soldiers were sheltered in superb homes, and lapped in luxury, -while our poor cripples limped along the highway or hid their shame in -huts, or broke bitter bread in the county poor-house, how hard 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 honorable 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 misunderstood. 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 centralized, 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 established 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 challenge 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 -burden 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, standing there, I -thought of its tremendous significance and the powers there assembled, -and the responsibilities there centered—its presidents, its congress, -its courts, its gathered treasure, its army, its navy, and its -60,000,000 of citizens. It seemed to me the best and mightiest sight -that the sun could find in its wheeling course—this majestic home of a -Republic that has taught the world its best lessons of liberty—and 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 -regeneration. - -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 mingling 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 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, trooping 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, and that no splendor can rob him and -no force justify the surrender of the simplest right of a free and -independent citizen. And above all, let us honor God in our homes—anchor -them close in His love. Build His 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 advantages, 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 destroy 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 clasped, 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 fight under its flag, of the enormous -powers of government privilege and monopoly that back them up, I confess -my heart sinks within me, and I grow faint. But I remember 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. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - 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 discussion 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 missionary, 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 interests involved; if a consecrating -sense of what disaster 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 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 American owes New -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 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 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. - -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 -confidence 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 -Republican 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 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 competition 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 mounting 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, were it set equidistant, the sound of the human voice could -not be heard from Virginia to Texas—while on the threshold 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? 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 suspicions 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 coming 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 institution. But I do hereby -declare that in its wise and humane administration, in lifting the slave -to heights of which he had not dreamed in his savage home, and giving -him a happiness he has not yet found in freedom—our fathers left their -sons a saving and excellent heritage. 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. With him a problem without precedent or parallel. Note its -appalling conditions. Two utterly dissimilar races on the same soil—with -equal political and civil rights—almost equal in numbers, but terribly -unequal in intelligence and responsibility—each pledged against -fusion—one for a 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 stewardship. 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 American -prejudice—to make certain here what has elsewhere been impossible -between whites and blacks—and to reverse, 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 frankness 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 courage 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 undergrowth, 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 complete their consecration! - -Such is the temper of my people. But what of the problem itself? Mr. -President, we need not go one step further unless you concede right here -the people I speak for are as honest, as sensible, and as just as your -people, seeking 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 ruffians, 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—compensating 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 -$45,000,000, and its cash equivalent in grain, grasses and fruit. This -enormous crop could not have come from the 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 -singing 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 -neighbors? 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 -schoolhouse 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 proportion 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 shops at the same forge. Often -the blacks crowd the whites 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 tread. 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 in the window. In the South, -there are negro lawyers, teachers, editors, dentists, 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 criminal 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 -percentage of negro prisoners is six times as great as native whites—in -the South, only four times as great. If prejudice 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 assertion, that in the southern -courts, from highest to lowest, pleading for life, liberty or property, -the negro has distinct 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 maintained that we are terrorizing the -people from whose willing hands come every year $1,000,000,000 of farm -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 benefit we have even imprudently narrowed the limit -of felonies and mitigated the severity of law? My fellow countryman, 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 how widely it is -misjudged! It is hard to measure with exactness whatever touches the -negro. His helplessness, his isolation, his century of servitude, these -dispose us to emphasize and magnify his wrongs. This disposition, -inflamed by prejudice and partisanry, has led to injustice and delusion. -Lawless men may ravage a county in Iowa and it is accepted as an -incident—in the South a drunken row is declared to be the fixed habit of -the community. Regulators may whip vagabonds 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 followed 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 character by declaring them to be -significant and representative. I prefer to maintain that they are -neither, and stand for nothing but the passion and the sin of our poor -fallen humanity. If society, like a machine, were no stronger than its -weakest part, I should despair of both sections. But, knowing that -society, sentient and responsible in every fibre, can mend and repair -until the whole has the strength of the best, I despair of neither. -These gentlemen who come with me here, knit into Georgia’s busy life as -they are, never saw, I dare assert, an outrage committed 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 carried 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 -mustered—is the hope of our future. - -When will the black cast a free ballot? When ignorance anywhere is not -dominated by the will of the intelligent; 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 blacks—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 -alienation 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 slightest -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 distrust 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 smallness 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 voter, -brought out only 6000 votes of 28,000—and the lack of opposition is -assigned as the natural cause. In a district 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 majority 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 partisan, 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 percentage of the -vote is not regularly cast, but more inexplicable 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—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 jogs 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 -cannot prevail. It cannot be forbidden in the law or divorced in force. -It is the inalienable right of every free community—and the just and -righteous safeguard against an ignorant 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 desperate leader was -left alone vainly striving to rally his disordered 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 commonwealth”—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, be delivered again to the -control of an ignorant and inferior race. We wrested our State -government from negro supremacy when the Federal drumbeat rolled closer -to the ballot-box and Federal bayonets hedged it deeper about than will -ever again be permitted in this free government. But, 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 problem, 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 prosperity 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 render back -this question lightly solved than to see them gather all the spoils over -which faction has contended since Catiline conspired and Cæsar fought. -Meantime we treat the negro fairly, measuring to him justice in the -fullness 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 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 intelligent of any race. By this course, confirmed in our judgment -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 wrestling 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 death comes in mercy and -in honor to still the soldier’s agony and seal the soldier’s life. I see -him by the open grave, mute, motionless, uncovered, suffering for the -death of 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, struggling, 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 -fainting 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 whatever -seeming estrangement we may be driven, nothing shall disturb the love we -bear this Republic, or mitigate our consecration 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 government of Appomattox, he -spoke from a heart too great to be false, and he spoke for every honest -man from Maryland 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. Witness the soldier standing at the base of a -Confederate monument 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, delivered from that sacred presence, has gone home -to the hearts of my fellows! And, sir, I declare here, if physical -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 hostages. 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 perfect loyalty that loves and trusts Georgia alike with -Massachusetts—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 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 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 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 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! - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - BEFORE THE BAY STATE CLUB. - - ------- - -DURING MR. GRADY’S VISIT TO BOSTON, IN 1889, HE WAS A GUEST OF THE BAY - STATE CLUB, BEFORE WHOM 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, because 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 on 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 fellow 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 sticking one leg into it so -that he would have no more flesh exposed 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 went quietly and -got a forked stick and stuck it up in front of him. - -“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 fill 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 Rock 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 Democratic 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. - -Now, 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 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 administration 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 comparison -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 concentration 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 government 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 diffused -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 everything. We teach a man that his best guide at -least is his own conscience, that his sovereignty rests beneath his hat, -that his own right arm and his own stout heart are 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 he 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 sentiment 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 the Capitol hill, and -my heart beat quick as I looked at the towering marble of my country’s -Capitol, and a mist gathered 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 wisdom -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 regeneration. - -But a few days 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, cleanliness, thrift and comfort. - -Outside there stood my friend, the master—a simple, independent, upright -man, with no mortgage on his roof, 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 honorable 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 -housewife, 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 government, 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 daughters 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 treasure repay -for the surrender of the slightest right of a free individual American -citizen. - -Now you do not know how we love you Democrats. Had we better print that? -Yes, we do, of course we do. If a man does not love his home folks, who -should he love? We know how gallant a fight you have made here, not as -hard and hopeless as our friends in Vermont, but still an up-hill fight. -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. - -When my partner came out of the war he didn’t have any breeches. That is -an actual truth. Well, his wife, 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. 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 rattled 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 biggest marble-cutting -establishment on earth within a hundred yards of that grave. We have got -a half-dozen woolen mills right around it, and iron mines, and iron -furnaces, 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 this city to myself and my friends. It has touched -us beyond measure. - -I was struck with one thing last night. Every speaker that rose -expressed his confidence in the future and lasting glory of this -Republic. There may be men, and there are, who insist on getting up -fratricidal strife, and who infamously fan the embers of war that they -may raise them again 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 watchman from the street will cry, “All is well with the -Republic; all is well.” - -We bring to you, from hearts that yearn for your confidence 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 battle-fields -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 desolation 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 brotherhood of the American people. - -It is likely that I will not again see Bostonians assembled 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 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. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - -[Illustration: - - HENRY W. GRADY’S ATLANTA HOME. -] - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - WRITINGS. - - - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - “SMALL JANE.” - - THE STORY OF A LITTLE HEROINE. - - ------- - -SINCE 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 experienced 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 spectacle 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 laughter, 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 virtue and bewildered by her new 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. - -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. - -He makes it a point to compass the problems of nations. I dodge them. He -has settled, to his own agreement, every European problem of the 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 shiver and blink, until his -talented fingers relax, and I 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 -intoxicated arms about my neck and envelop me in an atmosphere of whisky -and reform, or fall recumbent in the gutter, 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 conflicts of -kings, and see nations embattled rushing against each other. But there -are greater and deeper conflicts 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 -applicants 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!) - -Jane was asked in, and I began to investigate. I learned that this child -was literally alone in the world. She had a sister, a puny two-year-old, -and a drunken father—my flabby 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 trifles in splints -and worsted. She dying, the child picked up the splints, and worked -grotesque 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. Possibly 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 oftener and got over it quicker. A -piece of crape that Jane had fixed about his hat seemed to possess -sacred properties to him. When he touched it and swore abstinence, he -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, and reform with them, and promise -to work for them. Even when he ate their last crust of bread, he -accompanied 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 -suffering, 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 semblance of a -smile. Then in that pretty, feminine way she would pucker them together. - -Long suffering had racked the child until she was all awry, and her -nerves were plunging through her tender frame like devils. - -“Jane, were you ever hungry?” - -“Sir!” and she started painfully, while her starved heart managed to -send a thin coating of scarlet into her cheeks. She was a 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 marketing of Saturday evening; of all -the luxuries of Sunday breakfast and dinner, not a crumb for this poor -child. While we were dressing our children for their trip to -Sunday-school, or their romp over the hills, this poor child, gnawed by -hunger, deserted by her drunken father, holding 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 provisions. 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 little meal and meat had -been sent home. The rest she had with her. First, there was 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 treasures 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 ribbons 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 eagerness! So I was rejoiced to see that the long years of suffering -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 pathetic as a young woman out of whom all hope of fine -appearance has been pressed. A gay ribbon is the sign in which woman -conquers. I wager that Eve made a neat, many-colored thing of -fig-leaves. - -But to return to Jane. - -I know that this desultory sketch should be closed with something -unusual. Jane should die or get married. But she’s too young for either. -And so her life is running on ever. She 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 -disinfecting lime, either careless or wise beyond his kind, had powdered -him all over. He seemed to be terribly in earnest. 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!” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - DOBBS! - - A THUMBNAIL SKETCH OF A MARTYR. - - ------- - - -I AM proud of my acquaintance with Dobbs. - -He was a hero, whose deeds were not spread upon any of the books of men, -but whose martyrdom I am sure illustrates 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, and a whiff 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 the 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 uncouth. Yet there was a splendid -glow of honesty that shone from every feature, and challenged your -admiration. It was 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 passive honesty that is the -portion of men who have no need to steal, but the triumphant honesty -that has grappled with poverty, with disease, with despair, and -conquered 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 -quadrilles, pressed upon velvet, and to-night came to me upon a -shirtless back, and asked “trust” for a half-dozen newspapers. - -It had that seedy, threadbare look which makes broadcloth, 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 peculiarity 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 tears, 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 WEEK. - -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?” - -“I average 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?” - -“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 dollars -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.” I was crushed! - -_Five dollars and twenty-five cents a week!_ The sum which I waste per -week 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 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 to let him go. He were worried -to the last about a debt he was owin’ of you. He said you had been -clever to him, and would think hard ef he didn’t pay you. He wanted you -to come and see him so he could explain as how he were took down with -the rheumatizum, but that were no one to nuss him while I come for you. -He had owin’ to him when he were took, about three dollars, which he -have an account of in this little book. He told me with his last breath -to cullect this money, and 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 toward 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 wud 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? 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 her sides from its socket! - -I 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 -$11 worth of accounts will sell for $12 anywhere. Your son owed me $7. -Leave the book with me; I will pay myself, and here is $5 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 saccharine 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 Maryetti in 2 days, $1.00”; “Magic Linament—kores in -10 minnits, $2.00 a bottel”; and so on through the whole catalogue of -snares which the patent office turns out year after year. Poor fellow! -the only relief he got from his racking pains was when God laid his -healing hand on him. - -I shall keep the book as long as I live. - -In its thumbed and greasy leaves is written the record of a heroism more -lofty and a martyrdom more lustrous than ever lit the page of book -before or since. - -I think I shall have it printed in duplicate, and scattered as leaven -throughout the lumpy Sunday-school libraries of the land. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - A CORNER LOT. - - ------- - -“HE 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 corner 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, apparently—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 residence. Just inside -the door to the store sat a portly old lady of sixty or thereabouts. -“Who is that old man yonder 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 eighty, and it used -to be just one big hole. Now here on Spring Street where the front is, -the bank went nearly straight down ’cause the eye of the sewer was right -there. Then the sewer was open and run in a gully 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, either, so 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 fifty 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 because 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 the first -thing you know, when the streets get paved along here, it will be worth -a lot more than it is now.” - -“And the old man?” - -“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 throwed 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 -gettin’ feeble now, and we won’t last much longer. But, now 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 mudhole, 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’ll rest, too.” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - THE ATHEISTIC TIDE SWEEPING OVER THE CONTINENT. - - ------- - -THE THREATENED DESTRUCTION OF THE SIMPLE FAITH OF THE FATHERS BY THE - VAIN DECEITS OF MODERN PHILOSOPHERS.—AN ATTACK CHRISTIANS MUST MEET. - - - ------- - - [WRITTEN FOR THE CONSTITUTION, 1881.] - -NEW YORK, January 26.—The dread of the times, as I see it, is the -growing skepticism in the leading circles of thought and action -throughout the country—a swelling tide 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 has since swung beyond the limit of -orthodoxy, any more than I am reassured by the fact that Stephen H. 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 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 that 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 population, 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 -existence of one Supreme Being. These men and women have been useful to -the cause of religion, in that they held all the outposts about the camp -of the church militant, and protected it with enwrapping conservatism -and sympathy. It is this class of people that are now yielding to the -assaults of the infidel. Having none of the inspiration of religion, and -possessing neither the enthusiasm 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 -mob 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 investigation into all -creeds and beliefs has come. It is a logical epoch, come in its -appointed time. It is one of the penalties of progress. 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 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 shore that -was as vaguely and infinitely beyond the knowledge 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 messages 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 most cherished hopes, engulfing -our most precious creed, and burying our highest life in mindless -desolation.” And yet Mr. Huxley urges on this deluge with furious -energy. The aggressiveness of the atheists is inexplicable to me. Why -they should insist on destroying a system that is pure and ennobling, -when they have nothing to replace it with; why they should shatter a -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 the -consolation that lifts men and women from the despair of bereavement and -desolation, or the light that guides the 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 I 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 carelessly.” - -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 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 skeptical 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 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 -savagery, and held the balance. Conscience has dominated men who never -confessed even to themselves its power, and the dim, religious memories -of childhood, breathing imperceptibly over long wastes of sin and -brutality, have dissolved 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 impregnable, 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 that has crowned the earth with life -would take place in the new world. And yet Tyndall says: “We have -exhausted physics, and reached its very rim, and yet a mighty mystery -looms up before us.” And this mystery is the kindling of the atoms of -the brain with the 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 argument in this -contest. It has the perfect right to say, and say logically, that -something must rest on faith—that there must be something in the heart -or soul before conviction can be made perfect. Just as we cannot impress -with the ecstasies 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 dismiss the skeptic with a shriek or a -sneer. I read one little book a year ago, gentle, firm, decisive; a book -that demonstrated 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 gentleness 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 by a faith 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 faith; 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 -everlasting.” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - ON THE OCEAN WAVE. - - ------- - - AN AMATEUR’S EXPERIENCE ON A STEAMSHIP. - - ------- - -A VERY TALL STORY.—THE FIRST IMPRESSIONS.—A SIDE VIEW OF - SEA-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, drinking in the sunshine, 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 were shot, and rushed to the wagon. -Then ensued a remarkable 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 ROME, - - GA., U.S.A. - -It was Rhenish wine shipped from Paris. - -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 -a subtle scent of bilge-water, that brought the sea with all its -dangerous fascination back to him—he having served all his young life -before the mast. He was, at this writing, a plain, staid farmer, content -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 desert, 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 plantation, 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 letter; I shall never forget -the impression it made on me. - -I had imagined that it would be a moment of ecstasy. 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 fingers, and tingle in my veins. I wisely reserved the first -sight until we had steamed out beyond the land, 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 finiteness of sight, stretched the blue waters. Ah! how my fine-spun -fancies crumbled and came tumbling back on me in dire confusion! My soul -literally shriveled! My very imagination was cowed and driven to its -corner, and I sat there dumb and trembling! - -No tenant of a cradle was ever more simple or more trusting than I -became at that moment. I literally rejoiced in the abrogation of all the -pride and manliness that I had boasted of two hours before. I flung away -my self-dependence, 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 nightmare, 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 rhapsodically (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. - - - HOW SEA-SICKNESS 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 profane -literature can do it sufficient injustice. Walt Whitman 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 unutterable 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 anything 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 excessive 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 feeling. Nothing disturbs the man who is -sea-sick. He blinks in the face of disaster, and yawps at death itself. -He actually 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 mollusk over everything he stumbles on, and -knows not night or morning. As far as 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 myself on the taffrail. -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 everything connected with the sea. With a -charming abandon, he says, “A whale looks like a brown paper parcel—the -white 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-crest, is a pretty enough sight at first; but before long one longs -to shiver the surface of the deep, and calm its eternal restlessness. -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-fish. 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 sea-serpent. 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 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 boyhood 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 prisoners; 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; and taking the reins of affairs in her little fingers, -carried herself with a pretty imperiousness. Not always was she -mistress, though. Once in awhile I noticed, when he held her beneath his -words, her eyes softened and fell, and she sat half absorbed and -trembling, thrilling under an ecstasy that stirred her soul to its very -depths, and yet left her unconscious of what it meant or from what it -came. I watched this couple with a strange interest, and my heart went -out to the child. But beyond this there was 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 Pullman. - -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 during the first day or two, when, leaning over the taffrail, -you yawp into its face, that it can see clear through to your boots. -That’s the way it was with - - JOHN, JR. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - 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. - - -THE other day I saw two men meet on the street, bow 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 moment that a -gubernatorial campaign of great fierceness was raging, I fell to -wondering if there had ever been two masterful men whose paths lay near -each other, and whose performance was so nearly equal, who had been born -in such dissimilar 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 generations 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, -grandparents of the James Brown who came to America and was grandparent -of Joe Brown, were within the walls starving and fighting for William -and Mary; and I have no doubt there were hard-riding Toombs outside the -walls charging in the name of the peevish and unhappy James. Certain it -is that forty years before, the direct ancestors of General Toombs on -the Toombs estate were hiding good King Charles in the oak at Boscabel, -where, I have no doubt, the father 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, prodigal, the other slow, resolute, -forceful. From these ancestors 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. From 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 submitting 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 circumstances in -accordance with the suggestions of the foregoing. General Toombs’s -father had a fine estate, given him by the State of Georgia, and his son -had a fine education 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 $50,000. 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 about $1200 his first year, and then pushed his -practice to $2000 or $3000. He made no brilliant reputation, 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. General 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 perhaps -$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 -$25,000. 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 Congressman—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 reading 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 discussion, the late Robert -Cowart. Governor Brown was deeply impressed with the power and genius of -that wonderful 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 did not even remember his name, and had to -ask a Georgia-Texan “who the devil it was.” - -But 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 was 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 -Democratic camp. Shortly afterward he was astounded at seeing 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, incomparable on the stump. Hill and Brown had had a meeting 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 emphasize, 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 them common sense in -a sensible way. General Toombs 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 introduced -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 Toombs has won -his victories with the more ease. He has gone to power as a king goes to -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 hustings. 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 outcome 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 -Governor 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 brilliant, the other unerring; one is -eloquent, the other sagacious. Toombs moves by inspiration; Brown is -governed by judgment. The first is superb; the latter is sage. Despite -the fact that Governor Brown is by instinct and by inheritance a rebel, -he is prudent, conservative, and has a turn for building things up. -General Toombs, despite his love for kingliness and all that implies, -has an almost savage instinct for overturning systems and tearing things -down. It must not be understood that I depreciate General Toombs’s -wisdom. Genius often flies as true 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 Boston about ten years -before the war. In that speech he showed a prescience almost divine, and -clad in the light of thirty years of confirmation, 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 Hamilcar -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 1860. - -Messrs. Brown and Toombs have disagreed since the war. That Governor -Brown may have been wiser in “reconstruction” 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 -deliberate 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 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. Two great lives they are, -illustrious and distinguished—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. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - “_BOB_.” - - HOW AN OLD MAN “COME HOME.” - - ------- - - A STORY WITHOUT A MORAL, PICKED OUT OF A BUSY LIFE. - - ------- - - [WRITTEN FOR THE SUNDAY GAZETTE.] - -“YOU are the no-countest, laziest, meanest dog that ever 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 she 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 setting. 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—unconsciously, 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. - -I thought probably he 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 unfortnit 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 -used to think when I come home at night, most tired to death, she was -gettin’ to despise me. She’d snap me up and abuse me till actually I was -afraid to come home. I never misused her or give her a back word. I -thought maybe she wasn’t to blame, and that what she said about me was -true. Things kept a-gitten worse, and 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 toward the hut. “It was a surprise to both of us. We’d been -married fourteen years. It made Ann harder on me than ever. She never -let me rest; it was all the time hard words and hard looks. I never -raised even a look against her, o’ course. I thought she was right about -me. He never had 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. ’Peared 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 washing, and one day -she said I shouldn’t hang around no more a-eatin’ him and her out of -house and home. That was 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 better 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?” - -“Me? You know I didn’t. I did get drunk once. The boys give me the wine. -They say liquor makes a man savage, 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 was 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 if 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 followed 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 conversation, and -glancing cautiously around, said in a hoarse whisper: - -“Had a pic-nic to-day.” - -“A pic-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 nusses 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 as how she should gi’ me a little time with him. She sciddled -off to town to git her quarter spent, and I took him and made for the -woods, to meet her thar agin, by sun!” - -“He’s a deep one, I tell you!” he said, drawing a breath of admiration; -“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 disturbance 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 chatterers 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 opposite Bob on the grass, suddenly assumed an air -of deeper 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, suddenly, 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 torrents 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 homeless 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 -impertinent jay-bird, and the grave rapture over the butterflies that -swung lazily about in their rift of sunshine. - -One morning, many months after the pic-nic, Bob came to me sideways. His -right arm hung limp and inert by his side, and his right leg 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 off, turning -full around at intervals to see if he was followed. 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 thinner and more -woe-begone. He became a slink. He hid about in the day-time, avoiding -everybody, and seeming 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 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, satisfied 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 yellow seams through the gray of the day, and at -night a freezing storm of sleet and rain came. - -It was a terrible night. I staggered home through it to where a big -fire, and blue eyes and black, and slippers, and roasting apples were -awaiting me. I thought of Bob—my old night-owl, with a heart in him, and -wondered whether he was keeping his silent, but uncomplaining vigil -about the little hut on the hillside. 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 gleaming 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 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! - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - COTTON AND ITS KINGDOM.[1] - -Footnote 1: - - Reprinted from Harper’s Magazine, Oct., 1881. - -IT has long been the fortune of the South to deal with special -problems—slavery, secession, reconstruction. For fifty years has the -settlement of these questions engaged her people, and challenged the -attention of the world. As these issues are set aside finally, after -stubborn and bloody conflict, during which she maintained her position -with courage, and abided results with fortitude, she finds herself -confronted with a new problem quite as important as either of those that -have been disposed of. In the cultivation 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 slaveholder 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 experiments 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 -independence or to beggary, are matters yet to be settled. Whether its -culture shall result in a host of croppers without 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 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 settlement of these questions, and that the result of the -experiments 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 production 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 increase in the cotton crop is due entirely to the -increase of cotton acreage brought about by the use of fertilizers. -Millions of acres of land, formerly thought to be beyond the possible -limit of the cotton belt, have been made the best of cotton lands by -being artificially enriched. In North Carolina 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 -of the cultivation of the land now in use. Under the present loose -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 -Georgia five bales have been raised on one acre, and a yield of three -bales to the acre is credited to several localities. President Morehead, -of the Mississippi Valley Cotton Planters’ Association, 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 limitless, 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 will 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 between the States 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 implements. 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, summoned hundreds of negro croppers at -high prices, and invested lavishly their borrowed capital in what they -felt 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 themselves 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 plantation system, it then seemed, had perished -utterly and forever. 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 subdivided, and offered in lots to suit purchasers. Never perhaps -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 were in 1867 but 412 farms of less than -ten acres, and in 1870, 11,003; only 2314 of over ten and less than -twenty acres, and 1870, 8981; only 16,024 between twenty and one hundred -acres, and in 1870, 38,015. There was thus in this one State a gain of -nearly forty thousand small farms of less than one hundred acres in -about three years. In Georgia the number of small farms sliced off of -the big plantations from 1868 to 1873 was 32,824. In Liberty County -there were in 1866 only three farms of less than ten acres; in 1870 -there were 616, 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 nothing 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, -and a tendency toward the re-establishment of a land-holding oligarchy. -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 50,000 acres. The Capeheart estate on -Albemarle Sound, originally of several thousand acres, had $52,000 worth -of land added last year. In the Mississippi Valley, where, more than -anywhere else, is preserved the distinctive cotton plantation, this -re-absorbing of separate 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 plantation 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 understand 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 provisions 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 to have money with which to start their work. -Commission merchants therefore borrowed the money from the banks, and -loaned it to village brokers or store-keepers, who in turn loaned it to -farmers in their neighborhood, usually in the form of advancing -supplies. It thus came to the farmer after 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 mortgage upon his crop -of land. In this lien he waived exemptions and defense, and it amounted -in effect to a deed. Having once given such a paper to his merchant, his -credit was 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 commission for handling it, and accept the -settlement that he offered. To give an idea of the oppressiveness of -this system it is only necessary to quote the Commissioner of -Agriculture of Georgia, who by patient investigation discovered 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 -dollar 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 and bread, hay, forage, and stock. In one -county in Georgia last year, from the small dépôts, $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 consumed. When to this is added 4,011,150 tons -of hay at thirty dollars a ton, and $32,000,000 paid for fertilizers, we -find that the value of the cotton crop is very largely consumed 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 capital, 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 headquarters at New Orleans, -loaned over $600,000 its first year at eight per cent., with perfect -security. The farmers who borrowed 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 agents in thirty counties in the State, and advertises -that it wishes to lend $50,000 in each county. The managers say that -they can command practically unlimited capital for safe 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 eight 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 moment they 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 -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 quarters, 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 profits 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, undisturbed by change of -relation or condition, holding tenaciously 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 with the old army musket that he -captured from some deserted battle-field, and allowing 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 divided. From -this possession it is impossible to drive him, and to this possession he -adds gradually as the seasons go by. He is not ambitious, however, to -own large 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-rollings, his quilting -bees, his threshing jousts, and indeed every special work about the farm -is made to yield its element of frolic, except the making of cotton. -None of those tuneful melodies with which he beguiles his work or -gladdens 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 fire-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 -perversion 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 girlhood that points the regretful tenderness changed into a -dusky maiden idealized by early death, with the “mocking-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. 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 question 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 of 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, and was equal to many of the -fertilizers that sell in the market for $25 per ton. In 1869 a mill was -established in New Orleans for the purpose of pressing the oil from the -cotton 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 product 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 which can be worked for -$5.50 a ton, and cost originally $8 to $10, making an average cost when -worked of $15, is estimated to produce thirty-five gallons of oil worth -$11.50, seed-cake worth $5.50, and lint worth $1.50—a total of $18.50, -or profit of $3.50, per ton. The oil is of excellent quality, and is -used in the making of soaps, stearine, white oils, and 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-stuff. 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 hulled. 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 valuable 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 potash and phosphate of -lime. But admirable as is the disposition of the cotton seed for -manufacture, ample as is the margin of profit, and rapid as has been the -growth in 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 needed by the mills, they are -unable to get enough to keep them running. The cotton is ginned in such -awkward distribution, 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 cotton 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 -for pound, that is made in the mills of New England. Mr. F. C. Morehead, -already alluded to in this article, says: “A farmer who produces 500 -bales of cotton—200,000 pounds—can, by the expenditure of $1500 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 -field 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, without 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-house 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 were taken before it has been compressed and baled. Beyond this, the -excessive beating and tearing of the fibre necessary 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 neighborhood 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 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 management. 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 ginning -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 appeals 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 richer and the -conditions of competition are nearer equal, there will be a tendency to -place new machinery intended for the manufacture of cotton near the -field in which the staple is growing; but the extent to which this -tendency will control, or the time in which it will become controlling, -is beyond the scope of this article. We shall rather deal with 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 manufactured within her borders. In 1870, there were used -45,032,866 pounds of cotton; in 1880, 101,937,256 pounds. In 1870, there -were 11,602 looms and 416,983 spindles running; 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 capital 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 Columbus, Georgia, the influence -of one successful mill, the Eagle and Phœnix, 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 forty-mile canal to furnish water-power -and factory fronts to capital in and about the city. These things are -mentioned simply to show that the growth of cotton manufacture in the -South is sympathetic, and that each factory established is an argument -for others. There is no investment 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 Phœnix, of Columbus, earned twenty-five 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 fourteen 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 established -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 factory 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 South -has is that 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 song; 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 capital 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, -$17,800,000, 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 -stockholders 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. - -The International Cotton Exposition, opening October 5, of the present -year, in Atlanta, must have a tremendous influence in improving the -culture, handling, and manufacture of the great staple of the South. The -Southern people do not lack the desire to keep abreast with improvement -and invention, but on the contrary have shown precipitate eagerness in -reaching out for the best and newest. Before the war, when the Southern -planter had a little surplus 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 buildings themselves will be models each of its kind, -and will represent the judgment of experts as to cheapness, durability, -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 ungraceful 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 buildings, and on -these are tested the various kinds of cotton 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, and pass it directly to the spinning 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 system 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 manufacturing 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 attachments 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 $5000 -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, -prevented 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 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, carrying 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 possessions 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 -American 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, deducting the 35,000,000 people or -thereabout already supplied, and estimating the demand of the -remainder at five pounds per capita, would require 3,000,000 -additional bales of cotton and 30,000,000 additional spindles. The -goods needed for this demand 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 made 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. Whether 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 -first 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 examples, and the wisdom of her leaders. She will be -called upon to supply a large proportion of the manufactured goods for -this new and limitless demand. It has already been shown that she has -felicitous conditions for this work. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - IN PLAIN BLACK AND WHITE.[2] - -Footnote 2: - - Reprinted from The Century, April, 1885. - - ------- - - A REPLY TO MR. CABLE. - -IT is strange that during the discussion of the negro question, which -has been wide and pertinent, no one has stood up to speak the mind of -the South. In this discussion there has been much of truth and more of -error—something 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 hindrance, holding the -negro in the meanwhile under a sort of tutelage, from part in which his -former masters were practically excluded. Under this state of things the -South had little to do but watch and learn. - -We have now passed fifteen years of experiment. Certain broad principles -have been established as wise and just. - -The South has 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 responsibility 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—charged 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 straightforward. -Above all things it must carry the genuine convictions 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, writing 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 -sentimental rather than practical. But the reader, enchained by the -picturesque style and misled by the engaging candor with which the -author admits the shortcomings of “We of the South,” and the kindling -enthusiasm with which he 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 -purpose 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 surrendered,—who, -enshrining in their hearts the heroic memories of the cause they had -lost, in good faith accepted the arbitrament 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 political -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, maintaining my right to speak for them with the pledge that, -having exceptional means for knowing their views on this subject, and -having spared no pains to keep fully informed thereof, I shall write -down nothing in their name on which I have found even a fractional -difference of opinion. - -A careful reading of Mr. Cable’s article discloses the following -argument: The Southern people have deliberately and persistently evaded -the laws forced on them for the protection of the freedman; this 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 protective laws, which withdrawal tempts further and more -intolerable 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 mischievous, 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 are -thankful, even those who, because of the personal injustice and violence -of the means by which it was brought 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, wise or unwise, it will -stand. Third, it fixed by enactment his social and civil rights. And -here for the first time the revolution faltered. Up to this point the -way had been 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 -reluctance, and, to use Mr. Cable’s words, “bewildered by complication, -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 -purpose, 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 situation 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-headedness 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 -denounces any assortment of the races as unjust, and demands that white -and black shall intermingle everywhere. The South replies that the -assortment of the races is wise and proper, and stands on the platform -of equal accommodation for each race, but separate. - -The difference is an essential one. Deplore or defend it as we may, an -antagonism is bred between the races when they are forced into mixed -assemblages. This sinks out of sight, if 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 instinctive—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 -population 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 -separate 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 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 Methodists 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 effect 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, -without serious protest, to a separation of its Southern branch into two -conferences of whites and of blacks, and into separate 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 always 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. This once accomplished, the lower and the weaker -elements of the races would begin to fuse and the process of -amalgamation would have begun. This would mean the disorganization of -society. An internecine war would be precipitated. 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 enable it to absorb the African current, and after many -generations 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 intermingled 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, ineradicable and -positive, that will keep the races apart, that 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 existence, 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 -possible 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 momentous question. It involves a -problem that, all things considered, 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 distant 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 intelligence and earnestness of the whites, -we find the problem 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 solution 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 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 every city of more -than five thousand inhabitants has a public-school system, and in 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 -this 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 suspicion as to the ultimate -tendency of the system. The road to school is clear, and both races walk -therein with confidence. 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 separate-school system, 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 -commenced 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 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 _Zion’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. - This 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 advisers 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 forgotten. 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 disturbance. From the -stand-point of either race the experiment 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 the 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 Association. 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 satisfies 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 maintain the Georgia system one year. Both races would protest -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 system 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 membership 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 sympathetic interest and the -utmost friendliness. The separation 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 Conference 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 Episcopal 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 lodgment 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 who still survive the dead, - how we conducted ourselves as tillers of the soil, as servants - about the dwelling, and as common worshipers in the temple of - God! Ask your battle-scarred veterans, who left their all to the - mercy of relentless circumstances, 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 remembrance 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 support them with -the greatest liberality. If it were proposed to merge them with white -organizations of the same character, with equal rights guaranteed in -all, the negroes would interpose the stoutest objection. Their tastes, -associations, 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 feeling 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 center. There is no antagonism, for -example, between white 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 possible dangers of the situation have -much to do with maintaining the good-will between the distinct races. -The fact that in his own church or society the negro has more freedom, -more chance for leadership and for individual development, 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 -bricklayer 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 organizations 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 question 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 railroad 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 be kept clean and orderly. In Georgia -a State law requires all public roads or carriers to provide equal -accommodation for each race, and failure to do so is made a penal -offense. In Tennessee a negro woman 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 failures 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 general 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 asserting -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 -collision. 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 a plan 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 problem is, equal advantages for the same -money,—equal in comfort, safety, and exclusiveness,—but separate. - -There remains but one thing further 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 -reconstruction 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 -commissioners, 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 -commissioners have made jurors of negroes only when they had qualified -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 prosecution. 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 -helplessness of the negro in court has touched the heart and conscience -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 popular 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 convicted. 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 H. 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 possible that, in remote counties, where the question is -one of a fight between a white man and a negro, there may be a lingering -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 voluntary -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 convicted the slayer.” - -So much for the relation between the races in the South, in churches, -schools, social organizations, on the railroad, 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 congregates 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 essential, and have not sought to -change what was unchangeable. They have yielded neither to the fanatic -nor demagogue, refusing to be misled by the one or misused by the other. -While the world has been clamoring over their differences they have been -quietly taking counsel with each other, in the field, the shop, the -street and cabin, and settling things for themselves. That the result -has not astonished 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 true condition of things in the South. Political -greed and passion conjured pestilential mists to becloud what the -lifting smoke of battle left clear. It has exaggerated where there was a -grain of fact, and invented where there was none. It has sought to -establish the most casual occurrences 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 -dissevered 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 vindicate 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. The 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 -defiance, but with quiet determination. In her weakest moments, when her -helpless people were hedged about by the unthinking bayonets of her -conquerors, she gathered 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 whispered word that bespoke -her resolution catch the listening 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 disarmed -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 misapprehension 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. - -As a matter of course, this implies the clear and unmistakable -domination of the white race in the South. The assertion of that is -simply the assertion of the 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 Government. Even the race issue is lost at this point. If -the blacks of the South wore white skins, and were leagued together in -the same ignorance and irresponsibility under any other distinctive mark -than their color, they would progress not one step farther toward the -control of affairs. Or if they were transported as they are to Ohio, and -there placed in numerical majority of two to one, they would find 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, -intelligence, 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 percentages of race increase deduced from the comparison of -a lame census with a perfect one, and the omission of other -considerations, should hold good and the present race majority 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 appreciates heartily the value of general sympathy and -confidence. With 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 -scattered, and the ranks of her sons decimated,—in the face of universal -prejudice, fanned by the storm of war into hostility and hatred—under -the shadow of this sorrow and this disadvantage, she turned bravely to -confront a problem 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 difficulties; and if the way is now clearing, -it only reveals more clearly the 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 justice 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 convictions: “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 equities 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 confidence 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. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - 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 or eating 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 master, or an old bookseller -with a grand head and the deliberate 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 secrets 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 balcony about three feet by four, projecting -from the window of a poverty-stricken fourth floor. He was leaning over -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 balcony rattling the stick in a solemn manner -against the railing, 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 terrible, 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 -fellow 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 filled that young head—what contemplation took the place of -what should have been the ineffable upbringing of childish 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 my hand at him—but without -avail. At length, in response to an unusually winning exhortation, his -pale lips trembled into a smile—but a smile that was soberness itself. -Wherever I went that day that smile went with me. Wherever I saw -children playing in the parks, or trotting along with their hands -nestled in strong fingers that guided and protected, I thought of that -tiny watcher in the balcony—joyless, hopeless, friendless—a desolate -mite, hanging between 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 bedridden 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 soulfulness that was touching—and that -as I came back in the boat, the breezes singing through the cordage, -music floating 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, clasping tightly in his little fingers a short -battered stick. And finally that whenever I pass by a certain -overhanging balcony now, I am sure of a smile from an intimate and -esteemed friend who lives there. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - POEMS - - _BY VARIOUS HANDS._ - - - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - GRADY. - - ------- - - 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. - - III. - - 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, whose dust ye count as holy - Met me, a traveller of the years, - - V. - - And reached his strong right hand—a brother, - Saying: “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.” - - 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. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - ATLANTA. - - ------- - - We weep with Atlanta! - Her loss is the nation’s! - With 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_. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - HENRY W. GRADY. - - ------- - - TRUE-HEARTED friend of all true friendliness! - 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. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - 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 - In thankful mirth 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. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - 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 with 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 - Who 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 pæans 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, - 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. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - HENRY W. GRADY. - - ------- - - Upon the winds from shores uncharted blown, - 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 Elysées. - - HENRY JEROME STOCKARD. - -GRAHAM, N.C. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - 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. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - 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 noonday 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! - - 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. - - And so thy deeds will grow in grace, - They are exalted, wise 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. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - IN ATLANTA, CHRISTMAS, 1889. - - ------- - - I. - - O PROUD Gate City of the South, reborn, - Risen, a phœnix, 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! - - III. - - 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. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - IN MEMORY OF HENRY WOODFIN GRADY. - - ------- - - _From the “West Shore” Portland, Oregon._ - - I. - - AMID the 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 their land, - 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 FAIRCHILD. - -SEATTLE, _January 14, 1890_. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - _A SOUTHERN CHRISTMAS DAY_. - - _Paraphrased from Henry W. Grady’s Editorial._ - - ------- - - NO man or woman living now - 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 they sped— - While embered pale, in drowsy grates, - The fires slept lightly, as when life abates. - - And people, marveling, out of doors, - Watched in sweet amaze - 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. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - 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. - - 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. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - HENRY W. GRADY. - - ------- - - IF 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. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - THE OLD AND THE NEW. - - ------- - - NOT to the beauteous maid who weeps - And wails in broken numbers, - Where ’neath the solemn cypress sleeps - The brave in dreamless slumbers. - - Oh, not to her whose pallid cheeks - With 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. - - 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. - -VICKSBURG, _January 14, 1890_. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - 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 war - 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; - While from the forests of the North swept down - The pæan 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. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - AT GRADY’S GRAVE. - - ------- - - “WE live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not 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, acts 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 - Within 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, - 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-wingèd soul of thine, - How long thy all-compassionating heart - Inhabited its clayey tenement, - As one of God’s blest almoners, sent down - To fill the world with light and melody; - Tells when that prophet-tongue of thine was stilled, - Which, touched with inspiration’s sacred fire, - Preached Man’s eternal brotherhood, and led - The battle waged for Justice, Truth, 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, - 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, - To draw fresh inspirations from thy dust, - And consecrate her children with thy fame, - 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 eulogies 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, -pallbearers, honorary escort and members of the Chi Phi Fraternity, -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. Morrison, 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. Hill, W. H. Thompson, J. A. Wright, H. C. -White, W. P. Hill, Arnold Broyles, and other members of the Chi Phi; W. -J. Garrett, W. W. Boyd, W. L. Calhoun, Hon. T. H. Mustin, of Madison; R. -D. Spalding, M. C. Kiser, J. J. Griffin, J. 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 background, 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 employés, 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 following tribute of -the Chi Phi Fraternity, of which Mr. Grady was one of the charter -members at the State University: - - - 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 utterance 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 foremost 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 attachment 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 possessed 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 - estimate of them, and cannot but be highly beneficial to us to - thoughtfully consider some of them. - - His mind was exceedingly subtle, and his perceptible powers - unusually and remarkably keen. He comprehended at a glance, and - discriminated as if by intuition. It was this, doubtless, that - gave him that wonderful expressiveness of speech which so - completely captivated all who ever heard him. He saw - clearly—therefore he had power to 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 to 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 misjudged or misunderstood. - - Grady loved humanity, and love with him was not weak - sentimentality, 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 gave wings to his - words and carried them so deep into the hearts of his fellow - men. Thought 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 were 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 disenthrallment 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 forbearance 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 - proceedings, and that a copy be sent to the national organ of - the Chi Phi Fraternity. - - - J. W. LEE, } - J. T. WHITE, } - B. H. HILL, } - ANDREW CALHOUN, } _Committee_. - W. H. HILL, } - JACK M. SLATON, } - W. R. HAMMOND, } - -Hon. Patrick Walsh was introduced by Mayor Glenn, and said: - - - ADDRESS OF HON. PATRICK WALSH. - - - Mr. Chairman, Ladies and Fellow-Citizens: We are here to pay a - tribute to the worth and greatness of the departed—to him who - did so much for the prosperity of 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 reputation 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 usurpation of those placed in - authority by the aid of the general Government. During that sad - period of the South’s eventful history, he rendered signal - service to the people, and the 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 phenomenal. 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” a field 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 inspiration to practice - and perpetuate the principles of government 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 eloquent plea for a peaceful solution of - that great problem which the South and the South alone can - 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 Southern - countrymen, and his death but emphasizes the truth and force of - his position. The South is free and the intelligence 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 brilliant 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 forever will his eloquent voice, stimulating - his fellow-countrymen 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 admired and - respected him living, and who mourns and reveres him dead. - - - ADDRESS OF HON. B. H. 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 too deep for language to - express. A grief whose crushing weight, outside of my own home - circle, has taken away from life its brightest hopes and its - highest inspiration. - - In the summer of 1866 I first met Henry Grady, 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 when sorrow and trouble came no voice was as cheering, no - sympathy 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 touching 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 patriotism, - unselfish as it was; not his wonderful eloquence, matchless as - it was; not his public spirit, willing as it was—these are not - the recollections that have moved the people 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 encouragement 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 personal 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 contemplate - this life through the years that I have known him so well, I - feel as one who has seen the sun rise in the cloudless 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 - Infinite. Our hero could not have died at a time when he was - dearer to his people. 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 martyrdom 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: “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 presence 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; to the sweet and gentle - daughter, the idol of his heart and household; to the noble and - manly son—these were his jewels. And as we loved him so shall we - love them. I have seen a picture with a shaft of light reaching - from earth to heaven. Up the long, white rays, dazzling in glory - and transcendent in beauty, an immortal 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 passed 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 sons. One 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 met 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 representative 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. He 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 name to - 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 admiration of - the world. I know that even far-off New Zealand 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, - matchless 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 Constitution 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 casting - 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, more than any one of older years, could by his chosen - profession 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 conviction. 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 advocate 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 complete 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 through snow and ice, accompanied with a retinue of - wagons and drays, to accumulate fuel and provisions to prevent - 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 Lost 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 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 their tears. To each of them his loss was a personal sorrow. - - I knew Henry W. Grady well, and I loved him. To me 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 however 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. - - - 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 represents - 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 was an - island worthy to lay in the same sea with Tennyson’s Island of - Avilion, where 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 brightness 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 columns 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. - - 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 perpetual by - justice to all and respect for the sacred things of earth. His - voice was for building an American temple of peace, not upon the - quicksands of comparative power, subject to the shift from one - section to the other, but upon the everlasting foundations of - right to all, respect to all, liberties and liberality to all! - - Oh, what a cause he had! If successful, unfolded glories of the - Union of future times; the sweet and swelling 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 happiness, 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 preparation 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 culmination 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. With 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 of defeat, with all their - 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! - - - ADDRESS 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 philanthropy. When it rises above these - forms of human affection 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 feeling which - bear so many names and yet are one. And as he loved, so is he - 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 Carlyle 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 citizenship 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 industrial - 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 undertaken 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. And thus he, 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 - contemporary 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 adequately done - had office crowned his worth. His advocacy would then have - seemed professional and political. Public 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 has been to associate official distinction too - exclusively with public service. The people are greater than - Senate or Congress. The official in Washington can speak only to - his party. But the audiences which Grady and his generous - eulogist, Depew, commands show that a man uncrowned with public - office can be great in public life, and perhaps thereby do a - greater work. - - What was he to the Nation? Compelled by the limitations 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 Washington “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 Renan 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 overarching 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 there are in this - universe any shadows dark enough to quench his sunny spirit. I - 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 - pitifulness 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 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, “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 of 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 - seriousness 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. Lincoln 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 miracles 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 employments, 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, fragrance of strawberries, - exquisite odor of violets, aroma of all seasons” of the - celestial year, did the angels brew out of the material of - yesterday to pledge the never-ending fellowships 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 business men seem - grown suddenly older. The cry of the newsboys—“Paper, sir?”—is - almost a sob. I went late 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 limitations, to - speak of his kittenish boyhood; of his idyllic 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 super-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 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 sacredness 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 suspicions 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 overcome 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, 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 history, 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 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 - sunshine 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 neighbors 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—chiefest among her brilliant sons; foremost 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 sympathy 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 commonwealth, exalted beyond the meed of - patronage, won by virtue 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 leadership - 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 all 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 progress—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) 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 multitude 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 brightening 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 unsurpassed 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. - - - Science and religion alike declare that force is indestructible. - 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 centuries 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 things. - - - 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! - - -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 effort 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 a 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 brilliant son - of this Republic. If the annals of these times are 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 wrist of Horace Greeley rested; no age - of the Republic has witnessed such marvelous conjunction of a - magical pen with the velvet splendor of a mellow tongue, and - although the warlike rival of these wondrous forces never rose - within his life, it is writ of all his living, that the noble - fires 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 inspiration 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, - and 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 sentences, 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 unseemly 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 company 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 blazed his - way to eminence and usefulness, he waked the power of that - surpassing oratory which has bettered all the sentiment 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 positive and negative poles of - American sentiment were rushing 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 - sympathies, 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 unspeakable - fragrance of Georgia’s full and sweet approval, 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 - heartful 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 brightening 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 come, 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 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 useful 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 community, 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 universality 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 combined 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 questions, 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 movements—that genius which made - him at once the eloquent advocate, the logical expounder, the - wise organizer, the vigorous executive—all these rich and - unrivaled endowments, justify in claiming for him a place among - the greatest 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 private 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 triumph, especially the - circumstances of martyrdom surrounding his death, making it like - that of the giant of holy writ, as we trust, more potential than - ever in intellectual 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. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - MEMORIAL MEETING AT MACON, GA. - - ------- - -A GRADY Memorial Meeting was held at Macon, Ga., 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 -impressive 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; the Press, the Chamber of - Commerce of Macon, the resident alumni 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 illustrious 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 promotion 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 Government joins in this general tribute to the lamented - dead. He led his own city to high ideals and to large - achievements. 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 - enthusiasm 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, persuasive 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 distinctions. 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 - cold hearth stones, he cared for the sick and the forsaken, he - visited the prisoner, he carried consolation to the desolate. - 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 were showered upon him in recognition of many an untold - deed of charity and grace. His life has been concluded when, - 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 usefulness 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 versatile genius under an infinite variety of circumstances. - And in all of these, whether as editor, writer, orator or - citizen, he 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 - 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 undimmed 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 fountain - head of American liberty, and spreading its benign influence - wherever the Constitution is obeyed and the rights of mankind - respected. 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 fulfillment could rest alone with him. To lead - his people onward and upward 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 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 victor, 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 - manhood: we carried a personal pride to every wonderful - achievement of his growing genius: we hailed with fraternal joy - every popular triumph 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 character builders like these. The great soul of - the venerable Chancellor 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 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, - magnanimous, 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 grandly 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 - matchless tongue, now silent forever, was not hushed till, above - Atlanta, above Georgia, above the South, above the whole - country, the undying 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 Crawfords, and Gordons, and a long line of - immortal names, have illustrated 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 - example 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. - - _Resolved_, That we recognize and commend the unselfish and - generous 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 by 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 - cannot 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, } _Committee_. - WASHINGTON DESSAU, } - - -These resolutions were also unanimously adopted. - - * * * * * - -Mr. John T. Boifeuillet, 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 disappeared 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 with the fires of his - genius. His writings breathed a spirit of sweetness and - good-will. They were inspired by lofty purposes and earnest - endeavor, free from all suspicion of selfishness or insincerity. - No shadow of doubt fell across the sunshine of his truth. - - Wherever a sunbeam wandered, or a tear-drop glistened; wherever - a perishing life trod upon the ebbing tide; wherever 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: “O 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 to 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 advanced the - material interest and substantial growth of Georgia; it - advocated industrial training for the youths and maidens of the - land; it developed the poetry of the State; it elevated the - morals of men and purified their character; it created 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 collected the fund for the erection of the - Confederate soldiers’ home, which will ever stand as a monument - to his patriotism 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 powerful 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 the Atlanta - _Constitution_, which was his first newspaper experience. The - sparkle and dash of the communication so pleased the editor of - 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 - Athens, that he wished to have him represent the _Constitution_ - on that trip, and write up 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 - _Daily 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 - representative 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 interesting 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 strange, indeed, that the - illustrious leader and sage of the Old South and the brilliant - and fearless apostle of the New 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 brilliant life in the journalistic - world, took with him to the oracles the statue of pure thought, - and after its consecration, 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 blooming 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 his kingly soul and knightly spirit. - - Looking back at the ages that have rolled by in the revolutions - of time, what have we remaining of the past 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 mistress of the East with her monuments of commercial - enterprise and prosperity? Alas! they are no more. Tyre, that - great city, into whose lap the treasures of the world were - poured, she too is no more. The waves of the sea now roll where - once 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 by loving hearts, and with a flood of - beauty bathe it in heavenly glory. And then the blush fades, - even as it fades from the face of a beautiful woman. Shadows - begin to climb the hillside, 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 Chamber 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 the people - of Georgia, his name was a household word. In his chosen - profession he will rank with Lamar and Watterson. With these - exceptions, in the field of Southern journalism, 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 must rest his claim to - statesmanship. - - While the people of the South, with one voice, approve the - purpose manifested in these matchless efforts to maintain the - supremacy of the Anglo-Saxon in the public affairs of this - section, there are differences of opinion with reference 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 her future - prosperity, power and glory, his faith was complete. He labored - without interruption during his entire career to promote these - great results, and impressed himself upon his section in its new - growth and new life, more than any man of his time. The - wonderful growth of his own city was due to the broad liberality - and supreme confidence in its future with which he inspired the - people of Atlanta. - - Phenomenal as his career has been during the past few years, he - had not reached the zenith of his powers, and what he - accomplished gave promise of greater achievements 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 requirements, until his friends had grown - confident of new and greater triumphs. - - We 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 University 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 youth, standing where 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 - freeman. And, sir, this characteristic of a generous and great - 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 congregation 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 university - buildings, taught by a noble woman, the daughter of the - venerable Dr. Church, the president of Franklin College. Henry - was then remarkable for his sunny nature, his generous - disposition, his superabundant flow of good-humor and spirited - energy. Beautifully proportioned, agile, swift of foot, sinewy - and strong for his age, he was easily the leader of our childish - sports. Among his young 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 understand), - I was borne away at the end of the year, and Henry 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 generosity had become a fault. When I had known - him in ’59, his father was perhaps the most successful and - enterprising merchant of Northeast Georgia. He was a sturdy - North Carolinian with that robustness and shrewd vigor of - intellectuality which, with men from that section, has seemed, - in many instances, to dispense with the necessity of elaborate - culture. A soldier and officer of the confederacy, he had fallen - at the head of his regiment, in one of the desperate battles on - the lines at Petersburg, when the immortal army of Northern - Virginia had, in the language of the gallant 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 goodness; 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 controversy of any acrid - sort, and I recall but perhaps one exception in his whole - editorial life. But while he would never quarrel, I had the best - right to know, when the emergency 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 I could pull the - trigger. The dear fellow had not the slightest 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 nature, little didst thou deem that this boyish prank, - practiced by those whose familiar love embolden them, and all in - the riotous exuberance of careless youth would so soon be - recalled when thou wert gone, recalled with sighs and tears to - testify that thy gentle life had under its kindly surface a soul - as fearless as ever “swarmed up the breach at Ascalon.” - - Grady, as a writer and orator, was surpassed by no student of - the University, although he 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 - ultimate pursuit and mastery, and we sometimes find these - gentlemen grubbing for Greek roots and construing abstruse - problems, while the great, busy, throbbing world is passing 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 and 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 - accomplishments 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 towering 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 the shore of the Mexican Gulf, whose languid - waves, impelled 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 beneficent 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 prejudice could - but once, like the blind Samson, grasp the pillar of society in - its muscular arms, it would put forth its baleful strength and - whelm every social interest in crushing, appalling disaster and - irremediable ruin. - - The most tolerant of men, the life of our dear brother was one - of long protest against the narrowness of partisanship 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 impossible for an ex-Confederate - soldier or the children of his blood, to recall without a - kindling eye and a quickening pulse the swift march, the - stubborn retreat, the intrepid 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 made it plain also that these are but the emotions and - expressions of 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 cavaliers, or - Cromwell’s Ironsides less true to England and her constitution, - because their fathers charged home in opposing squadrons at - Edgehill and Naseby? Do not Englishmen 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 America’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 Emerson, “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 government, 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 the waiting angels were whispering to his - prophetic intelligence messages of peace, joy and gladness to - his countrymen. He said: - - “A mighty duty, 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 victories. 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 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 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!” - - We may imagine that this inspired utterance completed, 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 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 a - happier land.” - - Thus saying, his work was ended—his earthly pilgrimage 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 Government, said: - - - ADDRESS OF MR. WASHINGTON. - - - Mr. Chairman, Ladies and Gentlemen: There is a songster 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 cannot 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 we held - most dear in the past, but he belonged to the past. There arose - to welcome him a young Georgian; his speech 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 - inspiration 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 University; 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 generosity; 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 he had the force of Northern logic, and the beauty - of Southern diction; but as much as we may admire him for these - noble traits, yet it is in the life of Henry Grady, as a private - citizen, that he reached the highest points of his character. I - know of no other American citizen in the private walks of life - comparable to him. He never sought or held public office; he had - no record of a hundred battle-fields to make him famous; his - life was filled with private charities, and every enterprise of - his native State or city found a willing and powerful - sympathizer in him. The many charitable institutions of Atlanta - are before us as monuments to his zeal 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 enterprises - which he fostered; wherever there was work to be done to promote - the interest of his city, his State, or his country, he was - ready to give his time, his labor, and 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 section, 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 other time; he - declared to the people of the North that the 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 heart and liberality of thought, as to gain for him not only - the applause, but 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 erected 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 rich 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 - turning 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 Chi 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 silence constitute the only worthy tribute - which I can pay to the 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 - crystallize 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 Plymouth Rock, the sympathetic sobbing of the - sea can only whisper to the stricken land, “Peace, be still; my - everlasting 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 that patient, brilliant - daily work, which made it possible for him to command the - nation’s ear, that power of which 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 shuttle. A small and scantily furnished room, with nothing - in it save Grady, his genius and his God,—and yet thus - illumined, 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 splendor of - the sun. As a journalist Mr. Grady had no superior 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 nightingale to sing by note, or track the - summer lightning as we do the sun, as measure Grady’s style by - any rhetorician’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. Certainly 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 made to fame - since the days of David, for like that heroic stripling, with - the sling of courage and the stone of truth, he slew - Sectionalism, the Goliath which had so long threatened and - oppressed his people. - - Since Appomattox two historic speeches have been made by - Southern men; the one was that delivered in the Congress of the - United States upon the proposition to strike from the general - amnesty of the government the name of Jefferson Davis, when - Benjamin H. Hill broke the knightliest 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 magic - key, will 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 - civilization 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 magnetism of - his munificent manhood he bade Confidence, that sentry which - guards the human heart, surrender this citadel at discretion. I - trust that it will not be deemed inappropriate 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 pleasure, with the affluent blood of early - manhood yet running 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 - reverence 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 - adolescence, and 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 summons 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 mourning. 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 distempered 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 pæan 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 lived 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 _Constitution_, 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 mystery of life itself, and to plant its theodolite for a -measurement 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 itself was a mystery that he could not -divine, a vastness and a vagueness that he could not comprehend. But we -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 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 messages 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.” - -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 -intellectual 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 -comprehend the profoundest questions of social and political policy. - -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 English auditory. -Grady’s whole preparation had been in the line of journalism. 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 _sué generis_. Like all great men he had no prototype. -There was nothing sonorous in his tones of voice—he had nothing of the -declamatory 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 waving 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 reference to the public credit, he touched the dead corpse -of our industries and they arose and stood upon their feet. - -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 imagination 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 -generations to the same heights of purity and honor he so worthily -attained. - - - -------------- - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - SEARGENT S. PRENTISS AND HENRY W. GRADY. - - _SIMILARITY OF GENIUS AND PATRIOTISM._ - - BY JOSEPH F. 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 forth with life and hope, in genial air and -under propitious skies. - -Eminent in illustration of this truth, is the very great similarity in -the mental structure, the physical temperament 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 Pilgrim 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 lower 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 flame and “milk of human kindness,” which caused him in -boundless Americanism, to wear a constant smile, born of infinite hope -and faith in the future of a great Republic, stretching 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 as a tropical garden, and while each put -forth “thoughts that breathed in words that burned,” he was ever careful -in the exercise of his great gifts, that they should always be directed -in the promotion of human happiness, and to stimulate 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 admiration. 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 humanity—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 persuade 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 sublimest 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 remembrance. On this day, from every -quarter of the globe, they 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 performing 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 remember 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 glass, 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. We approach them, and they refuse not our invocation. We hold -converse with the wise philosophers, the sage legislators, 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 irresistible -sympathy. With reverent solicitude we examine into their 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, Prentiss goes on: “In -founding their colony they sought neither wealth nor conquest; but only -peace and freedom. From the moment they touched the shore, they labored -with orderly, systematic and persevering industry. They cultivated, -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 posterity 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 glittering 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 luxuriant and -unaccustomed verdure. Upon the banks of every river they build temples -of industry, and stop the squanderings of the spendthrift waters. They -bind the Naiades of the brawling stream; they drive 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 gallant 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 pigeons 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 birthday. A thousand -fond associations throng upon us, roused 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 our 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 birthplace, still our -country is the same. We have but changed our chamber in the paternal -mansion; in all its rooms we are at home, and all who inhabit it are our -brothers. We are no exiles meeting upon the banks of a foreign river, 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 “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 American owes New 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 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 -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 master’s 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 -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 -human kind. 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 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 -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 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 victories. 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 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 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!” - -The love and respect of the Mississippians and Louisianans, 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. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - 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 editorial 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 more like heaven. Indeed, we had just passed Patmos, the -place from which John had his apocalyptic vision. Constantinople had -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 -profession, 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 him, 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 japonicas and -calla lilies heaped on a funeral casket. By 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 those -living giants. If I say nothing in praise of a man while he 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 Saul” 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 have 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 merchants, 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 somehow they got -through and got up. I account for it by the fact that there is a special -dispensation of God for orphans. All hail, the fatherless and -motherless! The Lord Almighty will see you through. Early obstacles for -Mr. Grady were only the means for development of his intellect and -heart. And lo! when at thirty-nine years of age he put down his pen and -closed his lips for the perpetual 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 centuries 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 -Summerfield 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 me, I say yes again. -Summer before last, riding with Mr. Grady 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 appropriate now that I reveal them. He -expressed his complete faith in the gospel, and expressed his -astonishment and his grief that in our day so many 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 startling. 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 -utterances 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 we call a magnetic person. As -there may be a cord or rope binding bodies together, there may be an -invisible cord binding souls. A magnetic man throws it over others as a -hunter throws a lasso. Mr. Grady was surcharged with 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 was 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 grow, 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 each of them and added: “They are all thoroughly -Christian.” My friends, I think it will be quite respectable for a -little longer to be the friends of religion. William E. Gladstone, a -Christian; Henry W. Grady, a Christian. What the greatest of Englishmen -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 -in all our land than some of those who sit in editorial chairs. And if -that does not correspond with your acquaintanceship, 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 intelligent -people read the newspapers. While, therefore, the responsibility of the -minister is great, the responsibilities of editors and reporters is -greater. Come, brother journalist, 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 hypocrisies of the -church, show up the stupendous hypocrisies outside of the church. Be -not, as some of you are, the mere echoes of public opinion; make public -opinion. Let the great roll on which you write with a man’s pen be a -message of light and liberty, and kindness and an awakening 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 -newspaper 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 retort from now till the day of my -death. My opinion 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 W. Grady stood for Christian patriotism -irrespective of political spoils. He declined all official reward. He -could have been Governor of Georgia, but refused it. He could have been -Senator of the United States, but declined it. He remained plain Henry -Grady. Nearly all the other orators of the political arena, as soon as -the elections are over, go to 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 -possible 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 illustrious -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 something 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 New North as he did the New -South? Who will come forth 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 prepared 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 God that 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 muscle! 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 what have you -done with your pen, or your eloquence, or your wealth, or your social -position, will you be able to give satisfactory 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 pencil, -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 be 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 profane 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 Constantinople 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 -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. “The 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 ones, 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 camest, and to God -thou hast returned. Not broken down, but ascended. Not collapsed, but -irradiated. Enthroned one! Coroneted one! Sceptered one! Emparadised -one! Hail and farewell! - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - TRIBUTES - - OF 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 battle-field in the line of duty, so died -Henry Woodfin Grady, the progressive 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 intense 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. His death is a wonderfully great bereavement, and not only -to his family and the community in which he lived and labored, but the -whole country, whose peace and unity and kindly sentiment he did so much -to promote. - - - 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 that 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 inconsiderable share of credit, which Mr. Grady -himself was accustomed 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 recognized freely, even by those whom they inconvenienced, as the -clearest, the most truthful, and the most just reports made of those -events. He was then still a very young man; but he quickly saw that the -province of a newspaper, and of a reporter of events for it, is to tell -the exact truth, to tell it simply and straightforwardly, and without -fear, favor or prejudice. This is what he learned from his connection -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.”_ - -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 he 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 great 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 gifts were not of the highest order, but he had command of a -style of speaking which was most effective for his purposes. It was -marked by the Celtic characteristic of exuberance, but it was so -agreeable and inspiring that he was able to command at will audiences at -home and abroad. When so endowed he has also a significant message to -deliver, and is, moreover, animated by a sincere desire to serve his -generation 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, but 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 -deliberations of statesmen rather than the arousing of voters to action. -As this era of national infancy drew to its close, and the gigantic -problems, destined at a later day to involve the nation in civil war, -came forth into sudden prominence, the orator became the central figure -of the national stage. The rank and file gave their allegiance to their -chosen oratorical leader. He spoke in their behalf in Congress; 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 purposes. Indeed, the speeches of Clay, Calhoun and -Webster, and at a later day of Douglas and Lincoln, are better -understood when regarded as shaping public opinion than as following the -popular will already formed. The speeches of 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 -American 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 earlier politics. To-day, -partly because of the greater diffusion of news and intelligence, partly -by reason of the more technical and analytical character of the national -problems 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 appreciate the truth of this. It was Mr. -Grady’s good fortune that he, equipped with the keen insight and fervid -eloquence of our old public leaders, was placed in an epoch 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 better 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 forgotten. - - - -------------- - - - A FAR-SIGHTED STATESMAN. - - ------- - - _From 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 Democracy 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 obliterate 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 accomplishment 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 W. Grady, who died at Atlanta, and the -death of only a few even of those who have won the honors and the -prominence of public life would be more sincerely deplored. Ten years -ago Mr. Grady had made himself known in the South by the fervency of his -devotion to her interests and by the unusual ability he displayed in his -newspaper work, and the people of the South met his devotion with -characteristic 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 they would, but to put the whole strength of -their minds and bodies into the building up of the New South. To his -teaching and his example, as much as to any other single influence -perhaps, the South owes the impulses of material 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.”_ - -THE death of Henry W. Grady, at Atlanta, on Monday of this week, was a -loss, not only to his own section, but to the country. Although a young -man, and not in political life, Mr. Grady had already acquired a -national reputation. It is only three years since he delivered the -speech at the New England dinner in this city, which gave a sudden -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, and of a -fervid imagination, Mr. Grady’s oratory recalled the best traditions of -the Southern 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 delivered 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 probably 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. Impassioned and heartfelt was his plea -for Union and the abandonment of all sectionalism. These closing words -of his address might fitly be inscribed upon his tomb: “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.” The -words were all the more emphatic and convincing because they were spoken -in the presence of an ex-president whose entire administration had been -consecrated to such a Union of all sections, and who accomplished more -in the grand work of obliterating 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 fraternal love and confidence the -sections which partisan malice, political selfishness and unconscionable -malignity would keep apart. Whenever he spoke, the earnestness 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 -thundered 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. Henry W. Grady shone in the -columns of his newspaper, the Atlanta _Constitution_, with no less -brilliancy than he did as an orator. Under his guidance that paper has -become one of the brightest in the land. It will be difficult 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 American -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, sharing -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 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 expressions of loyalty and devotion to our -common nation. - -This service to both sections sprang from something more 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 leadership 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 too 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, -earnest and convincing handling of fact. A great future was before him, -all too soon cut off. He leaves to all journalists the inspiring example -of the great opportunities which 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 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 “eclipse 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 unquestioned 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-day, which has put -off the bitternesses, defeats and animosities of the war; which has put -on the sentient spirit of real union, of marvelous physical development, -which 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 Plymouth -Rock and Bunker Hill—where Webster thundered and Longfellow sang, -Emerson thought and Channing 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 of -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 whatever 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 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 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, 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.” - -The fine expression of these lofty sentiments shows the eloquence of the -man, but, better than that, they themselves 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 perfectness 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 their spirit glow, - Part of our life’s unalterable good, - Of all our saintlier aspirations!” - -He was of those who even through death do good, and so 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 Advertiser.”_ - -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 two ways, that the man who -has something to say will always prefer to write rather than speak, -because the printed page reaches tens of thousands, while the human -voice can at most be heard by a few hundreds, and that not many people -will take the trouble to attend a lecture when they can read discussions -of the same subject by the lecturer himself, or others equally -competent, without stirring from the evening lamp or exchanging slippers -for boots. But there is a great deal of fallacy in such arguments. The -press is the ally, not the supplanter of the platform. The functions of -the two are so distinct that they cannot clash, yet so related that they -are mutually helpful. Oratory is very much more than the vocal -utterance, of fitting words. One 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, as gesture, -emphasis, intonation, variety in time, and those subtle expressions that -come through the flushing cheek and the gleaming eye, the enumeration -was complete. Mr. Grady spoke with his lips not only, but with every -form and feature 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 MR. 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 journals 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; faithful 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 sympathy 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 accidental 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 they -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 South 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 young -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. - - ------- - - _Front 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 its 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 -blunders 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 invoked to decide -elections and shape the course of legislation. His impulses as a -partisan stopped short of the feeling 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 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, -however, 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 fraternity between the North and -South. Had he lived, his burning 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 him a part of the entire country. Under -his leadership the South was sure to make progress, but its rapid march -was to be to the music of the Union, and with every step the North and -South were to be nearer together than at any previous time since the -adoption of the Constitution. But his part in the great work is ended. -His passionate voice is stilled and his active brain 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 -interests, 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 seemed destined 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.”_ - -IN the death of Henry W. Grady, which occurred yesterday, journalism, -the South, and the whole country suffered 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 as a journalist. He addressed the New England Society -of New York on the evening of December 29, 1887. That speech made him -famous. Since then his name 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 generally 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 -earnestness 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 these 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 -environments. - -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 the best -education the South could give. His newspaper life began 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 spoken eloquently of both Abraham Lincoln and -Jefferson Davis his point of view being intermediate, and that fact, -rather than any conscious vacillation, explains his seeming -contradictions. - -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 conspicuous -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. Certainly 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 saddened 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 attention. 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 generation, were only -too willing and anxious to treat of the past 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 sincerity 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 dinner 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 perceived ahead of its present with great earnestness and -great judgment. Since he became the editor of the Atlanta _Constitution_ -he has labored unceasingly to remedy the unfortunate 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 foundation principles of the Republic. - -Mr. Grady was a Democrat and a Southern Democrat. Yet he was a -protectionist and believed that the development of the South depended -upon the maintenance of the protective tariff. Under it the iron -manufactures and various 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 degree. Mr. Grady -has encouraged the incoming of Northern 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 variance with -his party’s tariff policy. He has been a good man, a noble, true -Christian gentleman, an earnest, faithful editor and a model laborer for -the promotion of his people’s interests. - - - ------------------ - - - 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 Boston banquet hall, -and enchanted the hundreds of Boston’s business men who heard it. Only -nine days ago the newspapers 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 physician, 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. Grady 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 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 situation 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 _Constitution_ is a loss to -journalism, to the South and to the nation. He had done good work for -each, and still more could reasonably be expected of him but for his -untimely death at the 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 -country, 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 dangerous 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.”_ - -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 had already, although only -thirty-eight years old, reached the front rank in his profession, and he -had been talked of as nominee for the vice-presidency. This eminence he -won 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 American people have come to believe -him the best representative 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, industrial 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 compensation, that it may yet -be said of him in the South, as was so beautifully sung by Longfellow of -Burns in Scotland, that he haunts her fields in “immortal youth.” - - And 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 plow, - 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. Yet but a few years ago he started three newspapers in -succession and they all failed! Failure was the alphabet of his success. - -When Mr. Grady bought a quarter interest in the Atlanta _Constitution_ -he had had but slender training in journalism. He had written a great -deal, which is quite another thing. Though the _Constitution_ has -remained intensely provincial in its methods ever since, he has given it -an influence 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 _Constitution_ men of similar gifts, who often wrote with -pens dipped, as it were, in parti-colored inks, and filled its columns -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 earthquake 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 was too florid to be wholly pleasing to admirers -of strong and simple English. He dealt liberally in tropes and figures. -He was by turns fervid and pathetic. He 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. Howell, ran -the _Constitution_ 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 companionable 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 Davis’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 usefulness 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 serenity 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 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 evening next following he was banqueted by the Bay -State Club of Boston, and when he arose to respond to a happy sentiment -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 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 _Constitution_ 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. - -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 has -heard. It met the fondest anticipations of his friends, and the people -of his native State had planned to pay him extraordinary honors for the -surpassing 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 intelligent appreciation of the problem laid upon the -South. It was impossible not to perceive his sincerity, and we -recognized 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 environments 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 sincerely 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 -wonderfully rapid rate. This is not the day nor the generation in which -to witness perfect that substantial agreement for 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 Mr. 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 problem which weighs so heavily upon every lover of his -country. - - - ------------------ - - - A LEADER OF LEADERS. - - ------- - - _From the “Philadelphia Times.”_ - -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 section, Mr. Grady can only be compared with Mr. -Watterson, of the Louisville _Courier-Journal_, in point of distinction; -and while Watterson is the better equipped journalist, 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, desolated 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 Southern in sympathy, and keenly sharing the memories which -are sacred to all who wore and supported the gray, he saw 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 vindication 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 -relation of life, and from the homes of Georgia, and from the by-ways of -the sorrowing as well as from the circles of ambition, 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, perhaps 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 passionate 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 Southerners. - -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 State -election of 1880, and Mr. Grady was made chairman of the campaign -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 Democratic -national ticket in 1892. - -The attention of the North was first called to the brilliant 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 occasional magazine article, but his subject was his -one absorbing 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 in the heart of the section in which this feeling 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 community. - -In all his efforts to spread that knowledge of the sentiments 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 Rock 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 illustration -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 displayed. 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 is now accorded him. -Without the talent which he possessed in so remarkable degree, he could -not have produced the effect which he did; but back of the manner in -which he said what he 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 glowing 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 was 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 development 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 eloquent -addresses that he made, a desire to do all that he could to allay any -differences of opinion or prejudices that might 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 traditions and institutions, -an admiration which he owned 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 -undergoing 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 dinner of the Bay State Club, will remember that, though he excused -himself on account of his physical disabilities, the extemporaneous -address was full of the fire and pathos of his native eloquence. But, -although unaware of the sacrifice 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 journalist-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, occupying 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 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 influential friends to do for -him in a measure what doubtless would gladly have been done could his -future have been foreseen. But he started out for himself, and in the -rugged school of experience was severely taught the lessons of -self-reliance and individual energy which were to prepare 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 happiness. 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 -due to his great sympathy with his own people, his toleration of their -prejudices, and his desire to keep step with them and be one with them -throughout his work in their behalf. But he was an ardent young patriot, -a zealous and true friend of progress, and the New South will miss him -as it would miss no other man of the time. He set a brilliant example to -the younger men as well. He 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, emotional, and magnetic in his presence and -speech, possessing those qualities which Henry Watterson once said were -characteristic of Southerners as compared with the reasoning, -reflective, mathematical nature of Northern men. His 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 magnetism 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., 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 Southland. - -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. Not only was he a writer of remarkable vigor, but he was also a -finished orator and a skillful diplomat. As a writer he combined the -finish of a Prentiss with the strength and vigor of a Greeley. Not so -profuse, possibly, as Watterson, 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 intelligence 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.”_ - -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 -discharged 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 realization of his greatest ambition and -hopes—the South redeemed from the despair 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 situation 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 sentiment -throughout the South, produced a better appreciation 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 undeveloped 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 monument 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 representative of -the South as it is, and the whole country has 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 reputation 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 one was long since -discounted, the death of the other comes like a sudden calamity in a -happy Christmas 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 _Constitution_, 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 -better 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 sympathetic audience; and his fervid orations, if they -sometimes avoided unpleasant issues and decked with flowers the scarred -face of the ugly fact, did much, nevertheless, to turn the eyes of the -people away from the past and toward the future. - -We have been far from agreeing with Mr. Grady’s opinions, either -socially or politically. The patriotic people 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 treatment 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 solution in the -existence there of two races, politically equal before the law but -forever distinct in social and sentimental relations, is the gravest and -most difficult in our history. But the mere plea to let it alone, which -is the substance 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, 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 there 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 heartfelt sorrow than the death of Jefferson Davis called -forth. The book of Mr. 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 oratory, and his magnetic periods, that touched -heart and brain alike, were devoted to the single purpose of -rehabilitating 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 “New South.” It was happily and appropriately supplemented by his -recent address to the merchants of Boston. He was 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 New York and Boston. He was -only thirty-eight years old; at the very beginning of what promised to -be a great career, of vast benefit to his section and country. He was -essentially of the New South; slavery and old politics were to him a -reminiscence and tradition. At home he was frank and courageous in -reminding the South 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. - -We 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 -has been done in other places and by other hands. But we cannot pass by -the work he did for reconciliation without some expression of -acknowledgment. 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 President, 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 fullness, recognizes all -the merits of his opponent, and bravely faces the future without -heart-burnings or vain regrets. Mr. 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 -reunited country, and all that he spoke or wrote was intended to advance -good feeling between the sections and 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 -prematurely 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, graduated at the State -University and also took a course at the University of Virginia. On -coming out of college, Mr. Grady embarked in journalism and devoted a -comfortable fortune to gaining the experience of a successful newspaper -man. Under his management the _Constitution_ of Atlanta, Ga., has gained -a very large circulation. Mr. Grady 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 effectively 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 powers, with the rich promise of life all before -him. - -Our acquaintance with Mr. Grady began nine years ago, 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 he needed to purchase a quarter of the Atlanta -_Constitution_. This at once made his position, as it gave him a point -of vantage from which to exercise his wonderful gifts. From that moment -his career was open before him; his genius would do the rest. This -kindness he never forgot, 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 perhaps 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 alertness 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 -marvelous talk. - -Nor was his power confined to this limited circle. He was not only a -brilliant conversationalist and writer, but a genuine orator. No man -could take an audience from the first sentence, and hold it to the last, -more perfectly than he. His speech before the New England Society in -this city three years ago gave him at once a national reputation. 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 was 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 intensely. His own family had suffered in the war -an irreparable 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 Petersburg.” 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 admired 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.”_ - -“THE South is in tears!” said the sorrowful dispatch from Atlanta on -Monday last; and the grief and the sympathy of the North went freely -southward in response. Next to his own city, indeed, this death strikes -Boston most deeply, for here 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 Englanders, 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 beneath it. “He was the most 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 substructure 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 represented 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 himself -thus: “My father was an Irishman—and my mother was 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 sentimental yet widely reserved, devoted to his State and loyal -to the Republic, public-spirited as a statesman, and industrious 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 -picture 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.”_ - -ALAS, that the hero of the New South should follow, and in so short a -time, the typical hero and representative 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 blossom and golden fruitage -of a brilliant life! Fallen, while yet so young and in the arms of his -first overwhelming victory. Fallen on the topmost crest of a grand -achievement—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 intellectual triumph, -both strained to the utmost tension, rendered 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. - -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 presidential 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 captured 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, 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 argument, 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 cherishing 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 completion 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 -employed by another brilliant leader on undertaking a great campaign, -each of the soldiers enlisted for the South’s continued 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 arms done by our fellow-man. We confess the almost -holy veneration we feel for the heroes of song and story from the -beginning of tradition. Nimrod to Joseph and Moses to the Maccabees, -from Alexander to Cæsar, taking in the heroes of all nations from Cheops -to Napoleon and Wellington, 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 Pantheon. 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 nothing to challenge -the attention of the nation, yet his first speech at the North did catch -public attention most pleasantly. His second speech, delivered but a few -days ago, was the greatest effort of his life, and all the nations -listened to it and all the newspapers commented upon his utterances. His -speech was the equal of any oration ever delivered in America, and had -as much effect on public 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. - -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 -the 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 prosperity 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 welcome 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 suffering or poverty was unheeded by -him. He had a buoyant 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. He was a member of the Methodist -church. He had profound 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 25th N.C. Regiment, commanded -by Col. Thos. L. Clingman. Eventually Capt. Grady was promoted to be -major of the regiment. In the first battle he fell mortally wounded, -showing how true was his presentiment of death. He was surrounded 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 University 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 established the Atlanta -_Herald_. It was a brilliant paper but was not a financial success. Our -readers will remember that Mr. Alston was shot in the Capitol by State -Treasurer Cox. Upon the failure of the _Herald_, Mr. Grady went to New -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 work that was to -be done in a great newspaper office. The editor asked him where he was -from, and learning that he was 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 despondent, thinking the article might be -published after several weeks, 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 he 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 -reputation, and made him a great favorite in Georgia. The public 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 of -the _Constitution_. From the day he went to Atlanta on the staff of the -_Constitution_ until his death his best energies and his great abilities -were directed toward 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 unprecedented success in journalism -were honor enough to win in a life-time. He was confessedly the Gamaliel -of Southern journalism, and the best of it all was that he was, as was -said of Horace Greeley after his death, “a journalist because he had -something to say which he believed mankind 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 well 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 Waddell 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 commencement, we think; another at the New -York banquet on “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 -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 sectional -lines, and he stood before the country the most eloquent advocate of “a -Union of Hearts” as well as a “Union 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 impressive. The Southern people ought to read and -re-read this great 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 thee all eyes and hearts were turned, - As round thy path, from plain to sea, - The glory of thy greatness burned. - - 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.”_ - -HENRY W. GRADY, editor of the Atlanta _Constitution_, died yesterday, -after a short illness, from typhoid pneumonia, at the early age of -thirty-six. Perhaps no man in 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 exponents of Southern -opinion, a representative of the progressive 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 was necessary, and when, some few months ago, -regulators attempted to introduce into Georgia, in the immediate -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 this section, but it was not until his famous speech at the -New England 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 people 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 -portions 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 -politicians managed to counteract some of the good accomplished, much of -it remained. Mr. Grady deserves remembrance, 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 true that his other speeches did not create the -same sensation as his first, they were all eloquent, able and patriotic. - -His career so auspiciously begun, which promised so much to himself and -the country, has been brought suddenly and prematurely to a close. Mr. -Grady was a young man, and we had every reason to believe that he would -play a leading part in the South and in the 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 yesterday. 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 development 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 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 opportunity 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 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, 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 -summoned 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 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 recorded 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 find 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 -deposits 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 fraternal Union -between North and South, and his appeal for mutual trust and confidence, -with commerce and industry to cement more strongly than ever the two -great sections of the country, met with a response from both sides of -Mason and Dixon’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. But Grady had a peculiar opportunity, and right -well did he 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 national. 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. - - ------- - -THE most brilliant journalist of the South is no more. When the news was -sent over the country yesterday morning that Henry W. Grady, the editor -of the Atlanta _Constitution_, 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 peculiarly gifted. With an -imagery and wealth of language that enabled him to clothe the most -uninteresting subject in a pleasing garb, he had at the same time the -genius of common sense more fully developed than 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 lovable 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 matters 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 creations of his energy and enthusiasm and pluck. It will -no doubt be readily admitted by his associates of the _Constitution_ -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, costing $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 magnetism, which made his originality and -zeal wonderfully effective. 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 fame, however, were not confined to Georgia. In the Lone -Star State, thousands flocked 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 monument to his memory more -enduring than brass. It made a profound impression on those who heard -it. The sentiments 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 Southern -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 attention to the great truths he uttered, and result in an -emphasis of them that could not have been attained otherwise, 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 universal sorrow. No man -of his age in the South or in the Union has achieved such prominence or -given promise of 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 promote its progress and prosperity. He was a man of -tremendous 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 capacity. 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. - - - ------------------ - - - 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 -attention 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 positions acceptably and -with credit to himself; and perhaps even higher honors awaited him. When -his name was mentioned 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 evidence 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 useful and -glorious manhood. - -It is inexpressibly saddening to contemplate the untimely 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 influence will cease to be felt. -The memory of his kindly, gracious 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 devotedly. 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, “unfearing 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 the 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.” - - - ------------------ - - - 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 discouragements 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 effusive, conceding overmuch, perhaps, under -the inspiration of the moment, to the prejudices of his audience. In -discussing 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 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 unrelenting 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 -employé 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 partisan 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, and not ask anything of the State -that he can do for himself.” These views mark the breadth of the -speaker’s statesmanship, and show that it embraced interests wider than -those of his own section—as wide, in fact, as the continent itself. Mr. -Grady died of pneumonia, complicated 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. Attempting -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 morning 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 wonderful 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 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 participate 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 profession 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 brilliant 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 won 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 downright 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. - - - ------------------ - - - GRIEF TEMPERS TO-DAY’S JOY. - - ------- - - _From the “Austin, Tex., Statesman.”_ - -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 foundation of the world—it is the way of all things mortal. But -when a young man, full of the vigor of a sturdy life growing 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 South has been called -upon to mourn the demise of a chosen and well-beloved son. The two men -may be classified 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 and proud -people, they have cherished since first there was a State government 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 territory 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 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 perceptive and a well-trained mind—he -studied the problems that surrounded him thoroughly and conscientiously, -and his conclusions were almost invariably the soundest. He realized 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 prejudice, 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. - - - ------------------ - - - 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 taxed 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 calamity. 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. I 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 -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 fratricidal 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 providentially 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 sections, 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 Jefferson Davis, old, -feeble and weary, was lifted gently from 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 stirring 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 in the front and proclaimed to all the -world the spirit and the purpose of the 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 words -was heard above the clamoring of hate and penetrated the dullness of -indifferent ears, moving the hearts of the people to unity and -stimulating the manhood of the country to shake from it factional and -sectional rage and consecrate 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 honors 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 memory 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 was not the journalist and orator and statesman they -saluted familiarly everywhere—in public assemblies and on the streets -and at their firesides. Every home in the city was in fact the home of -the kindly, generous, laughing 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 -eviscerated. President Cleveland was so thoroughly imbued with the -sentiment and purpose of Grady’s oration at the New England dinner in -New York that he hazarded, or sacrificed, deliberately the certainty of -partisan and personal 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 outburst of passionate -eloquence that startled Boston and the East, and forced New England, for -the first time, to contemplate the relations of races in the South as -did Mr. Grady, and as do New Englanders themselves, having homes in the -Gulf States. Facts propounded were unquestionable, 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. - -Then came Grady’s death. It shocked the country that a man so gifted and -the only American capable of pronouncing an oration as faultless as the -philippics of Demosthenes, or as the sturdy, resistless orations of -Gladstone, 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 written or spoken -aught else, would be the Leuctra and Mantinea, immortal victories and -only daughters of an Epaminondas. 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 Republic 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 aged 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 work lay bright before -him. His face was toward 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 with 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 to-day in grief over the -gifted dead. There is mourning in every 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 Boston, -where he stood last week, with his face aglow with the light of a newer -life, to Texas, where last year he delivered 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 untimely!” - -Henry W. Grady was born in Athens. He was but thirty-eight when he died. -His father was a country merchant 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. Goetchius, P. W. Meldrin, Julius L. Brown, W. -W. Thomas and J. H. Rucker—among the living—and Charles S. DuBose, -Walter 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. He 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 -attention of Col. I. W. Avery, 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 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 imitation of James Gordon Bennett. He made money but spent it -lavishly for news. His editorial sketches were wonderfully clever. His -“Last Man in the Procession,” “The Trained Journalist,” “Toombs and -Brown,” attracted wide attention. But the _Herald_ could not stand this -high pressure. Under the cool, skilled management of the _Constitution_, -Grady’s paper succumbed, and with it all of his private means were lost. -The young man in 1876 was absolutely 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 commenced 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 diversified 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 as 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. 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, -working night and day in a campaign or upon a crusade. Then he would -lighten up, contenting himself with general supervision; 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 contest in 1885. His New England banquet address in -December, 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 Thanksgiving 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 completed 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. - -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 possibilities 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 useful 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 State 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 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 ingratitudes 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 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 defending 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 appeals 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 section, and stand by -his people, and do manly battle for their good name and their rights. - - - ------------------ - - - MR. GRADY’S DEATH. - - ------- - - _From the “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 Northern land. Yes, -and beyond the seas his fame had gone, and in foreign climes his -intellect had impressed the intellectual. 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 unfinished. Nature seldom endows her children with the -gifts with which she favored Grady. Among modern orators 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 -judging him. His life was devoted to Atlanta and Georgia, 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 illustrated 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 Eternal 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 of vital importance to the South and the -country—cold in the embrace of death. The news was so sad and unexpected -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 intellect and tireless energy, the -State, whose devoted lover and earnest pleader he was, and the South at -large, whose fearless 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 remembrance his good work in their behalf. - -Georgia has not produced a citizen who, in private station, 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 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 impulsive, 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 -appreciated his kindness of heart and the strength of his friendship, -and his regret at the loss of the State is heightened by the knowledge -of the loss of a personal friend and associate. - -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 magnetism, 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 immortality—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. - -From city to city and hamlet to hamlet the wires flashed the sad -intelligence. Men paused and doubted as the message 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 threshold 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 mightiest effort; with the applause of thousands ringing 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! - -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 him, 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 pæan -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 prominent 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 meridian of life or the zenith of his -fame. His mind was steadily broadening, and he was constantly giving -evidence of the possession of still greater ability than he had yet -displayed. In his Boston speech he handled the race question in a way -that showed that he was not a mere rhetorician, but a genuine orator, -who could direct the minds of men as well as touch their hearts and -dazzle their imaginations. 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 succeed; -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 accomplished. He felt -that he was capable of still better things, and he strove constantly to -reach a higher mark of excellence. 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 contributed 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 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, however, 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 frequently 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 Jefferson 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 sorrow 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 -transcendent genius inspired the hope of the blessed realization of -promises with which his brief but 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 cultured Athens, and his -mental nature treasured the classic light of that seat of learning, and -it glowed with attractive 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, calculated to do for his country what Hill, Gordon -and other brilliant lights of the old _régime_ could never have -compassed. As David, “the man of war,” was not permitted to build the -temple, but that glory was reserved for Solomon, 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 symmetrical 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 codified 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 cannot but ask, - - O death, why arm with cruelty thy power - To spare the idle weed yet lop the flower? - - - ------------------ - - - STILLED IS THE ELOQUENT TONGUE. - - ------- - - _From the “Brunswick Times.”_ - -HENRY W. GRADY is dead! - -Hushed forever is the voice of the South’s most wonderful 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 unapproached 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 brightness 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. - -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 sorrow 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 profession 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 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 -admirable 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 -generosity 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 erection 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 membership until it reached -proportions that made it a power not only 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 delivered 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 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 eloquence -to bring the North and the South to a better understanding 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 invested his exposition of them with a most -fascinating eloquence. Few men in Georgia ever accomplished so much in -so few years. Few men in Georgia were even the object of such affection -at home and such admiration beyond the bounds of the State. The career -which has been so suddenly cut off was shining with golden promise. The -future seemed to be full of honors and there was everything surrounding -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 beneficent -tendency, has folded his hands in the eternal rest. God’s peace be with -him! - - - ------------------ - - - 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 career 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 sovereign 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? 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 to cheer and console the -broken hearts on earth, and remind 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 without 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 household this day! - - - ------------------ - - - 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 convictions, 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 -encouragement 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 News.”_ - -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 death is a shock not only to his many friends and -admirers, but to the whole State in which he was so well known, and will -be received with regret outside its borders. He was a beautiful writer -and a brilliant orator, as well as a prominent factor in the development -of Atlanta. He will be greatly missed in that city, and his place in the -_Constitution_, of which he was easily the head, will be hard to fill. -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 utterances, whether from -the rostrum or through the columns of his paper, always tended to make -the world better, and his ambition seemed to be to smooth away the -differences that annoy, and the 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 sorrows 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, asking 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 promoter of every enterprise calculated to benefit Georgia -and her people. He was a friend to humanity, true to himself, to his -country and to his God. - -The most brilliant light in Southern journalism is veiled in darkness—a -manly heart has ceased to beat; the tongue that has electrified -thousands with magic 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 excellent 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 singing his praises, the fatal hand of disease -was laid upon him, and he was brought back to his own sunny and beloved -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. -Democratic leaders sought his favor. His influence was felt throughout -the entire State. His support was an omen of success. - -Ben Hill died, and his place has never been supplied in Georgia. Mr. -Grady approached nearer to it than any other man. Now Mr. Grady is gone, -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. The -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 -Calhoun and Webster. As a companion he was genial, jovial 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 you would know the -kindness of his generous heart go to those whom he 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 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 in 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 unselfishness. 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.”_ - -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 unassailable—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 successfully furthured. The severing of the still more -tender ties 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 -culminating 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 orator 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 sufferings of -his fellow men. - -There was a charm and sparkle about his writings that never failed to -captivate the senses, please and entertain. The South lost one of her -brightest 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 he 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 application, 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 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. Profuse in rhetorical attainments, -gifted in oratory, profound in thought, facile and versatile as a -writer, an encyclopædia 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 Appomattox, 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 ægis of -constitutional equality. - -His strong and graceful effusions in the Atlanta _Constitution_ 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 advocate, 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 -superior, 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 judgment, 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. Unexpectedly an opportunity was opened up -for him, and he appeared before a cultivated audience in the great -metropolis, 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 Northern 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 -consequences 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, remonstrated 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 the crown bestowed upon the peacemaker and the cheerful -giver. Mysterious 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, -Campbell 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 “Hawkinsville Dispatch.”_ - -HENRY W. GRADY died at his home in Atlanta, at 3:40 o’clock, on the -morning of the 23d ult. - -This announcement has already been flashed all over the United States, -and has carried genuine sorrow throughout 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 -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 all 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, reading 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 audience 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 farmers of Georgia to seek -prosperity by raising their own supplies. At another time, he 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 distracted 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 prosperity; 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 exclusion 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 balance 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. - - - ------------------ - - - A MEASURELESS SORROW. - - ------- - - _From the “Lagrange Reporter.”_ - -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 -eloquence, 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 representative 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. - - - ------------------ - - - GRADY’S DEATH. - - ------- - - _From the “Oglethorpe Echo.”_ - -TOGETHER with the sorrow of the thousands who loved Henry Grady that he -should be taken from among them, comes the lament of the Nation that one -so gifted and capable 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 having 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 disabused 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 speakers and just -such speeches is what is now needed to bring the two sections together; -to obliterate sectional prejudices; make the entire Nation one people in -purpose and sentiment. But have we any more Gradys to make them? Perhaps -so, but they are in the background and 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 fit to end his -career, we can but lament the evident 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 widespread 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. He -gave his life away in a masterful effort to revive peace and good will -between sections estranged by passion and prejudice, and races made -envious of each other by selfish 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 beat in sympathy and there his hand -dispensed charity’s offerings 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 -forevermore. 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 brilliancy 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 mankind, rested upon one trait -alone, one Christ-like attribute 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, beautiful -eulogies and panegyrics have perhaps never been pronounced 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 -the development of his State and her resources, he traversed 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 portrayed 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 - Lying 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 disturbing questions were agitating the -city, and party and personal 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 patriotism 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 returning 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, and he was at once -ranked among the greatest living orators of the day. - -Thoughtful men of the North, recognizing the race problem as one of the -coming momentous issues of the future, were eager to hear the broad -views and patriotic suggestions of this great pacificator. An invitation -was there 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 differences harmonized, with all aspirations purified by the -limpid fount of patriotism, he sketched a panorama of loveliness and -beauty and 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 prejudice, 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 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, he 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 has 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 CAREER. - - ------- - - _From the “Dalton 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 run their course, and in the flush 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 forever and it is invisible to mortal eyes. -The question is, will another take its place, and when?—We think not -soon. Even should an orator, whose eloquence might sway multitudes, 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 day 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 personality. It would be well for -our Southland could another as gifted shine forth in like splendor. - - - ------------------ - - - 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 unexpected, 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 all 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 a broader charity; for an unquestioning confidence; -for fraternal love and justice; for a re-united country. In our very -heart we believe so. If not—God help our country! - -We will not attempt to eulogize Henry Grady—to speak of his brilliant -intellect; of his matchless eloquence; of his spotless 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 we think -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 masterful 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. - -But 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 like -the perfume in the heart of the flowers; sweetness flowed from his pen -as the honey comes from the mysterious 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 verdict. Frankly, we are not of -those who believe that his speeches—eloquent and grand 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 matchless 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 wilderness 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.”_ - -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 eloquence and pure patriotism have -illustrated and adorned. - -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 death 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 announced 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, proclaiming 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 -inspiring. - -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 heartfelt -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 -followed 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 kindness 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 -catastrophe 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 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 sackcloth and ashes. - - - ------------------ - - - 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 pervaded 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 Southern 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 beautiful home in Atlanta for a few days only, gradually growing -worse, until the end came Monday morning. - -Though his dangerous situation was known, the probability 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, -we would really have believed it and sought out some new evidence of his -popularity. Dead! Is it possible! Before he had reached the prime of his -manhood or 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 in 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. - - - ------------------ - - - HENRY W. GRADY IS NO MORE. - - ------- - - _From the “Valdosta Times.”_ - -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 private board—in the political caucus—on an angling or -gunning expedition—his transcendent genius always shown with a rare and -radiant light. To these who have known him well he has long been the man -the world has recently found him to be—one of the greatest men of his -time; to such his loss is felt as a personal bereavement. Each 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 Grover Cleveland to the saucy newsboys who cry the -_Constitution_ 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 in -this issue of the _Times_. 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 GRADY died Monday morning, December 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 sympathetic 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 patriotism. His successes stand as a mark of indomitable -energy. Possessing an extraordinary faculty of grasping opportunities at -the full flood tide, he illustrated the perfect patriot in forgetting -self for common good, the genuine friend in bestowing his own advantages -to others. Only he that worthily lives, in death enshrines himself in -the hearts of his people, and not a wire in all the network of -commercial arteries but that has given, in messages of love, cadences of -a country’s sorrow. When poets and patriots are met at the bier by the -hushed voices of the rabble, and commerce pauses to pay tribute, -Heaven-blest must be the spirit that gives flight from earth. In all the -walks of life Henry Grady 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, lending 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 unmurmuring sacrifice, is truly accomplished? - -There is such pathos in the incident of this last grand effort to break -the cordons of estrangement between the sections as may justify the -hope. - -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 flashed 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 conjecture what his future might have been if he had -lived. His course is run and his life is finished, as completely -finished as if he had lived an hundred years and died. What was that -life? Grady was a big-hearted, whole-souled fellow, 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 mortal sight. - - So when a great man dies, - Ages beyond our ken, - The light he leaves behind him lies - Upon the paths of men. - - - ------------------ - - - THE SOUTH IN MOURNING. - - ------- - - _From the “Elberton Star.”_ - -HENRY W. GRADY, the peerless orator and true patriot, has been called to -join the silent majority. This sad intelligence reached Elberton 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 Webster. - -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 -complicated questions in a masterly manner. - -His recent speech in Boston, at which time he contracted the cold that -terminated in his premature death, was particularly and singularly -forcible. The press and people, both North 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 thereof dead, it is -difficult to conjecture who will or can come to the front and finish the -grand and noble undertaking. - -Grady’s first and greatest love was Atlanta. He was like an -inexhaustible gold mine to that town, and the Gate City has sustained an -irreparable loss. But Atlanta’s confines were too contracted for a heart -and brain like his. He loved Georgia, almost like he 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 festivities of the Christmas time, the dark shadow -of the relentless 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 against -Thee, our Lord and our God!” - -The death which has come to Georgia to-day cannot be measured in its -irreparable loss. A week ago the South was in mourning over the death of -her great leader! But he belonged to the past, and while the sorrow fell -deep, yet we realize that a life had ended which had filled its fullest -mission. But in the death of Henry Grady the South has lost a leader of -to-day—an active, earnest, true man, whose heart, bound up in the -advancement of his people, was but laying brighter and fresher and truer -plans for their prosperity. To every heart in the South the question -comes “Who will lead us now? Who will defend our principles now that he -is taken from us?” And out of the blackness 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 principles, 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 would 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 the stronger from the principles which -Henry Grady inculcated in it. 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! - -Peace to the great 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! - - - ------------------ - - - THE SOUTHLAND MOURNS. - - ------- - - _From the “Griffin Morning Call.”_ - -THE brilliant young editor of the Atlanta _Constitution_ 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 commonwealth 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 Virginia, 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. Ingersoll might be compared to him, but the -former had not 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 Northern -people from the home of Phillips and Sumner, 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_ - - - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - -[Illustration: - - ATLANTA CONSTITUTION BUILDING. -] - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - THE “CONSTITUTION” AND ITS WORK. - - ------- - -THE Atlanta _Constitution_ came into being in the seething 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 expression to the sentiment of -a million people. The old _Intelligencer_, 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 unconquerable 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, he named it -_The Constitution_, and the name became its shibboleth and its issue. -The editor was a bold and fearless writer and a fiery and impetuous -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 the enterprise of the proprietors kept it rolling on the crest of -the tide. - -From the first the _Constitution_ was a more enterprising news-gatherer -than any of its contemporaries. It was the first to employ special -correspondents in all parts of the State and the South. The system which -has since become comprehensive and well-nigh perfect was then in its -beginning, but it was something new in Georgia, and attracted attention. -It was in this way that Mr. Grady was employed 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 _protégé_ 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 -inconsiderable lights. Speeches were matters of vital importance to -newspapers and the public, and the leading orators were always -stenographically reported. The modern synopsis would not then suffice. -There were giants in those days, and the people hung upon their words; -their utterances 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 owners of the _Constitution_ -were the first to realize the priceless value of Mr. Grady’s genius, and -when he was yet a college boy under age, Mr. Hemphill, 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 condition that he -should take the position of managing editor. From then until Captain -Howell 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 Republican -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 Legislature 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 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 waged without ceasing -till the yoke was thrown off and a Democratic Governor was elected in -1872. In all that fight 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 reconstructionists. -In both these contests it was with the people, 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 _Constitution_ 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 transcendent 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 Phoenix; but all -around was desolation. The plantations were in a deplorable 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. - -In all this hopelessness there were a few hopeful spirits, here and -there one that could chirp. The hot days of politics were past and the -newspapers must look to other fields. The _Constitution_ was the first -to look to the development of the State’s resources as the new -opportunity for journalistic 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 -constructive 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 beneficent influence spread throughout the whole -South, inspiring, 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 Alexander 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 comrades green, they looked hopefully to the future and -strove to lay the foundations of new greatness and future influence 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 -_Constitution_, 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 -scholarly 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 _Herald_. With Georgia Republicanism, -the Republican papers passed out of existence, and the _Sun_ soon -followed, leaving only the _Constitution_ 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 special engines every -morning from Atlanta to Macon, a distance 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 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 _Constitution_ 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. Howell, who had had some experience in journalism as city -editor of the _Intelligencer_ in its most vigorous days, and had since -accumulated 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 newspapers -were willing to pay any price for the news. The _Constitution_ and the -New York _Herald_ were the first to unearth 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 _Constitution_ 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 -farming 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 prominent men -everywhere, and in 1880 Cyrus W. Field, of New York, lent him $20,000 to -buy a fourth interest in the _Constitution_. 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 $25,000 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 reorganized, with Captain -Howell as editor-in-chief, Mr. Grady, managing editor, and Mr. Finch and -Joel Chandler Harris as associate editors. Mr. Wallace P. Reed was added -in 1883, and Mr. Clark Howell, now managing editor, came on in 1884 as -night editor. When he was promoted 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 to -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 proprietors, Messrs. S. M. Inman, 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, Betsey -Hamilton, T. DeWitt Talmage, and a number of others. The editor of the -Atlanta _Evening 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 -business 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 $60,000 -including the site, and the $30,000 perfecting press and other machinery -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. On the south, -Stone Mountain raises its granite dome fifteen miles away, and to the -northeast the eye reaches 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 Howell -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 procession 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 Representatives, 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. Speaker; A message from the American people.” - -Catching the spirit of the invasion, the dignified Speaker said -solemnly: - -“Let it be received.” - -With that Mr. Grady pressed up to the speaker’s chair, and quickly -wresting the gavel from his hand, cried in imposing and exultant tones: - -“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 _Constitution_ took on -tremendous growth. Mr. Grady had conceived 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 northwest. The first year the circulation jumped to 20,000, -the next to 35,000, 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 _Constitution_ 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 Exposition. 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 -development of the South has already gone beyond the expectation of the -most sanguine, and already this region has a firm 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 his purse 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 subscriber to the stock. In the flush of enthusiasm he was a -balance-wheel. He added the safe counsel of a mature business man to the -enthusiasm of his more youthful partner, 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 distinguished 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 _Constitution_ 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 services -were again called into requisition. On the 12th of August, 1884, exactly -one year from the day the old building was burned, the directors of the -new Kimball House took tea on the fifth floor, and within six months the -magnificent structure was completed. At the grand banquet which -celebrated the event Captain Howell presided, and Mr. 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. Inman 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 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 great straits. The 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 election, with unlimited means at its -command. On this committee were ex-Governor, now Senator, Joseph E. -Brown, Major Campbell Wallace 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 night 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 literature. -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 leading citizens of Atlanta, including the 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 fight 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 _Constitution_ held the fort for Atlanta, -and its flag flaunted serenely 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 political campaigns, -and its influence was triumphantly exerted in behalf of Governor -Colquitt in the famous Colquitt-Norwood campaign, when part of the -Democratic Convention 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 _Constitution’s_ -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 headquarters 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 remarkable episodes -in the history of Atlanta, and the division and tension among friends -and neighbors was strikingly shown by the position of the gentlemen who -owned the _Constitution_. Captain Howell, the editor in chief, was an -ardent anti, and Mr. Grady, the managing editor, was the leading -advocate of prohibition. Mr. Hemphill and Mr. Inman were for -prohibition, and other stockholders were against it. The campaign -committees on both sides loaded down the columns of the paper with -bristling communications, while the editor-in-chief and the managing -editor had thrown their whole strength into the campaign 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 vive_; 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 - insinuation that Mr. Henry W. Grady, the silver-tongued - prohibition orator of to-night, has any of the attributes of - Jack Spratt, or that Colonel Evan P. Howell, the redoubtable - champion of the antis, has any of the peculiarities of Jack - Spratt’s conjugal associate. The idea sought to be conveyed is - that the fat and lean of prohibition will be energetically - attacked by these gentlemen to-night at the same hour from - opposite sides of the table. - - It goes without saying that between them both the platter will - be 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 commander 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 banners 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 hopeful 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: - - - A word about my partners. I have differed from them on this - question, and I know that they have been prompted by the same - consciousness 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 earnestness 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 was 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 weeks of 1889 the paper touched a higher mark of prosperity -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 Howell, 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 -position of managing 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. Howell won 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 -Howell’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 Philadelphia, with very little cash, that he seized an -opportunity 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 -question of Democratic leadership. Mr. Howell went to New York for the -_Constitution_, and his interview with Mr. Tilden was the first -announcement of the old statesman’s determination not to enter the -contest again. That night Mr. Howell telegraphed the news to two hundred -papers, and the interview with the sage of Gramercy Park was read 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 editor, and was -afterward promoted to the position of assistant 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 people’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 celebrated 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 was 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 falsification of the -courts. Public conscience, by the approval of fraud upon the ballot and -the intelligence of a community, will soon be indifferent to the -extensions of those methods by the present office-holders to continue in -power, and the arbitrary reversing of the will of the majority 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 questions 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 announcement 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 marvelous 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 misunderstanding and differences -between all sections of the Republic, 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 sympathy 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. - - - -------------- - - - - - 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 patronage 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 passions 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 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 scintillation of an intelligent courage that defied -alike the prejudices 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 sentiment 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. - - - -------------- - - - HON. SAMUEL J. RANDALL. - - ------- - - HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES, - - WASHINGTON, D. C., _December 24, 1889_. - -HON. E. P. HOWELL, ATLANTA, GA.: - -_My Dear Sir_:—I telegraphed briefly yesterday afternoon, 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 fortitude. - -So young a man, with so bright a future, and capable of so much benefit -to his State and 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 capabilities 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. - - ANDREW CARNEGIE. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - 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 RUFUS B. BULLOCK: - -Your dispatch is received with sincere sorrow. Thousands 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 members, and the country a true -patriot. - - BALLARD SMITH. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - ● Transcriber’s Notes: - ○ Missing or obscured punctuation was silently corrected. - ○ Typographical errors were silently corrected. - ○ Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation were made consistent only - when a predominant form was found in this book. - ○ Text that: - was in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_); - was in bold by is enclosed by “equal” signs (=bold=). - - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS' LIFE OF -HENRY W. 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