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 386of 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 387cold 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 388of 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 389marched 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 390his 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.

391Resolved, 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.

392Wherever 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 393advanced 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 394editor 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 395South, 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 396stood 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 397the 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 398years, 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 399youth, 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 400for 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 401of 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.”

402Grady, 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 403the 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 404pride 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 405prophetic 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 406stars, 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 407of 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 408know 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 409applause, 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 410memory 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 411these 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 412yet 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 413riot 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 414dream 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.

415PERSONAL TRIBUTES.

417