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HENRY W. GRADY (1851-1889)

THE ORATOR OF THE “NEW SOUTH or

EW recent orations have had so great an effect in the North as F those delivered by Henry W. Grady, Georgia's young orator, at New York, on “The New South,” and at Boston, on “The Future of the Negro.” Here was a voice from the South which the North was glad to hear, new light shed on two of the greatest problems of the country, and a hand held out for all true patriots to grasp. Unfortunately death carried off this able orator before his powers had reached their prime. Born at Athens, Georgia, in 1851, Grady, on reaching manhood, made journalism his profession, and in 1880 became editor of the Atlanta Constitution, in whose management he soon gained the reputation of being one of the ablest of American editors. Though he died nine years afterward, he lived long enough to win a fame that extended through all sections of the land, and his speeches did much to allay prejudice and draw the North and South into a closer union.

THE NEW SOUTH [The address, from the closing part of which we offer a selection, was delivered in 1887, at the annual banquet of the New England Club in New York. The banquets of this club have often been made the occasion for speeches upon topics of national importance, but none of these have attracted more attention than Grady's eloquent presentation of the new conditions in the South.]

There was a South of secession and slavery—that South is dead. There is a South of union and freedom—that South is living, breathing, growing every hour. I accept the term, “The New South,” as in no sense disparaging to the Old. Dear to me is the home of my childhood and the traditions of my people. There is a New South, not through protest against the Old, but because of new conditions, new adjustments, and, if you please, new

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ideas and aspirations. It is to this that I address myself. You have just heard an eloquent description of the triumphant armies of the North, and the grand review at Washington. I ask you, gentlemen, to picture, if you can, the foot-sore soldier who, buttoning up in his faded gray jacket the parole which was taken, testimony to his children of his fidelity and faith, 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, and, lifting his tear-stained and pallid face for the last time to the graves that dot the old Virginia hills, pulls his gray cap over his brow and begins the slow and painful journey. What does he find 2–1et me ask you, who went to your homes eager to find all the welcome you had justly earned, full payment for four years' sacrifice— what does he find, when he reaches the home he left four years before ? He finds his home in ruins, his farm devastated, his slaves freed, 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 gone, without money, credit, employment, material, or training ; and, besides 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 2 Not for a day. Surely, God, who had scourged him in his prosperity, inspired him in his adversity As ruin was never before so overwhelming, never was restoration swifter. The soldiers stepped from the trenches into the furrow ; the horses that had charged upon General Sherman's line marched before the plow, and fields that ran red with human blood in April were green with the harvest in June. From the ashes left us in 1864, we have raised a brave and beautiful city; and, somehow or other, we have caught the sunshine in the bricks and mortar of our homes and have builded therein not one single ignoble prejudice or memory. 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 South—misguided, perhaps, but beautiful in her suffering, and honest, brave, and generous always. On the record of her social, industrial, and political restoration we await with confidence the verdict of the world. The old South rested everything on slavery and agriculture, unconscious that these could neither give nor maintain healthy growth. The

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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 needs of this complex age. The new South is enamored of her work. Her soul is stirred with the breath of a new life. The light of a grander day is falling fair in her face. She is thrilling with the consciousness of growing power and prosperity. As she stands full-statured and equal among the people of the earth, breathing the keen air and looking out upon an expanding horizon, she understands that her emancipation came because in 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 and apology. The South has nothing to take back; nothing for which she has excuses to make. In my native town of Athens is a monument that crowns its central hills— a plain white shaft. Deep cut into its shining sides 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 patriot's death. 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 the American Union was saved from the wreck of war. 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 at 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 aspirations, that they would die, sir, if need be, to restore this Republic their fathers fought to dissolve!

HENRY CABOT LODGE (1850 —)

HISTORIAN, ORATOR AND STATESMAN

OR many years the name of Henry Cabot Lodge has been known to the American public as that of a versatile and able historian, on the subjects of English and American history. Some of his books are, “Land-Law of the Anglo-Saxons,” “English Colonies in America,” “Studies in History,” and “The Spanish-American War.” He was also the well known editor, for a number of years, of the “North American Review,” and the “International Review.” He has long been a prominent political orator in Massachusetts, and was elected to Congress in 1887. In 1893 he was elected to the United States Senate, in which he still ably represents Massachusets by oratory and statesmanship. Senator Lodge long since made his mark as a learned, graceful and eloquent speaker, and a statesman of exalted character.

A PARTY ON LIVE ISSUES [In the Republican National Convention of 1900, Senator Lodge was chosen as permanent chairman, and delivered a powerful and impressive speech, in which he specially dwelt upon the work of the Republican party during the preceding four years of the McKinley administration. We give some illustrative extracts from this address.]

We promised to deal with the Cuban question. We have done so. The long agony of the island is over. Cuba is free. But this great work brought with it events and issues which no man had foreseen, for which no party creed had provided a policy. The crisis came, bringing war in its train. The Republican President and the Republican Congress met the new trial in the old spirit. We fought the war with Spain. The result is history known of all men. We have the perspective now of only a short two years, and yet how clear and bright the great facts stand out, like mountain peaks against the sky, while the gathering darkness of a just oblivion is creeping fast over the low grounds where lie forgotten the

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trivial and unimportant things, the criticisms and the fault-findings, which seemed so huge when we still lingered among them. Here they are, these great facts: A war of a hundred days, with many victories and no defeats, with no prisoners taken from us and no advance stayed, with a triumphant outcome startling in its completeness and in its world-wide meaning. Was ever a war more justly entered upon, more quickly fought, more fully won, móre thorough in its results? Cuba is free. Spain has been driven from the Western Hemisphere. Fresh glory has come to our arms and crowned our flag. It was the work of the American people, but the Republican party was their instrument. Have we not the right to say that, here too, even as in the days of Abraham Lincoln, we have fought a good fight, we have kept the faith, we have finished the work 2 War, however, is ever like the sword of Alexander. It cuts the knots. It is a great solvent and brings many results not to be foreseen. The world forces unchained in war perform in hours the work of years of quiet. Spain sued for peace. How was that peace to be made 2 The answer to this great question had to be given by the President of the United States. We were victorious in Cuba, in Porto Rico, in the Philippines. Should we give those islands back to Spain 2 Never ! was the President's reply. Would any American wish that he had answered otherwise? Should we hand them over to some other power 2 Never ! was again the answer. Would our pride and self-respect as a nation have submitted to any other reply Should we turn the islands, where we had destroyed all existing sovereignty, loose upon the world to be a prey to domestic anarchy and the helpless spoil of some other nation ? Again the inevitable negative. Again the President answered as the nation he represented would have him answer. He boldly took the islands; took them knowing well the burden and the responsibility; took them from a deep sense of duty to ourselves and others, guided by a just foresight as to our future in the East, and with entire faith in the ability of the American people to grapple with the new task. When future conventions point to the deeds by which the Republican party has made history, they will proclaim with especial pride that under a Republican Administration the war of 1898 was fought, and that the peace with Spain was the work of William McKinley. So much for the past. We are proud of it, but we do not expect to live upon it, for the Republican party is pre-eminently the party of action, and its march is ever forward. We are not so made that we can be content to retreat or to mark time. The traditions of the early days of our party are sacred to us, and are hostages given to the American people that we will

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