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: