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.”