The Civil War ground to a halt in the Spring of 1865. Within a matter of weeks, Southern women began the practice of honoring their dead heroes who had fought and died in the "Lost Cause." Indeed this process had begun in some towns even before the war's end.1 Throughout the South, springtime flowers were brought to the gravesides as women attempted to beautify the tombs of the fallen gray-clad soldiers. As the azealea, wisteria, buttercups, and gardenias bloomed, their blossoms were brought to the new cemeteries scattered across the Southland -- cemeteries filled with thousands of freshly dug graves. The women of the South did their share to make the last resting places more elegant and pleasant that Spring, but they felt more could be done.

Accordingly, the next March, Mrs. Mary Williams of Columbus, Georgia, wrote a letter to the Columbus Times in behalf of her bereaved comrades and the men they wished to honor:

The ladies are now and have been for several days engaged in the sad but pleasant duty of ornamenting and improving that portion of the city cemetery sacred to the memory of our gallant Confederate dead, but we feel it is an unfinished work unless a day be set apart annually for its special attention .... we can keep alive the memory of the debt we owe them, by dedicating at least one day in each year to embellishing their humble graves with flowers ..... and we propose the 26th day of April as the day.2


By 1875 this custom had spread throughout the South, although there was never any total uniformity in dates. Many localities did adopt Mrs. Williams' April 26 holiday, but the date varied from town to town. Certainly there was no uniformity as there was in the North where May 30 was legalized as Memorial Day in 1868 and celebrated as such throughout that victorious section under the direction of various local posts of the Grand Army of the Republic.3

An editorial statement in the Atlanta Constitution dated April 22, 1887, explained some of the history of the Confederate memorial observance:

For the past twenty years the people of the South have been accustomed to gather about the graves of the heroes of the 'lost cause' on the 26th of April to pay their tribute .... This beautiful rite was instituted in Georgia. It was suggested and founded by Mrs. C. H. Williams of Columbus .... The 26th of April was chosen because it is the anniversary of the surrender of the last organized army of the confederacy .... The women of the South instituted it, and they have constantly maintained it with loving pride and heroic devotion.4


A running controversy in the Constitution over the next few days gives further insight into the nature of the holiday. The suggestion had been made to bring the South's celebration into line with the North's observance of Memorial Day by changing the often-accepted Southern date of April 26 to May 30 -- which was by the 1880's a "national" holiday. Among the several comments between April 22 and 26 which appeared in the Constitution, there was this notable one from C. H. Williams, the son of the holiday's founder:

I do not understand how such a change could be seriously considered for a moment by anyone who comprehends the true tenderly mournful meaning of our "Memorial Day" .... it is now woven into the sweet and tender traditions of the south as one of mourning not of exultation. "Decoration Day" at the north is celebrated as a day of triumphant exultation over the last expiring gasp of the cause we seek to mourn for and sanctify in the memory of the youth of the land.5


The editorial writer of the Constitution replied that same day with the comment that the origin of Confederate Memorial Day "is something worthy of being remembered with patriotic pride. We owe the day to a noble southern woman's devotion."6

Although in due time the South did agree to participate in the national celebration, April 26 is still Confederate Memorial Day in many parts of the South.7

In the South, the annual observance was one of the key factors enabling the "Lost Cause" to achieve potent myth status, by which several generations of Southerners have lived. If the Lost Cause did assume a religious character, as two scholars have recently pointed out,8 Confederate Memorial Day (or Decoration Day as it was known in some places) played a significant role in this process. The Raleigh, North Carolina, News and Observer clearly expressed in an 1887 editorial the prevailing sentiment in that region:

Again the 10th of May rolls around and we repair to the last resting places of those who wore the gray and died in that patriotic service specially to recall once more the heroic value of the sleeping army and the virtues of those who gave up all that made life sweet to go cheerily to war because it was for home and country. It is a custom as appropriate as it is touching, and we trust it will always and without breach be observed in our southland.9 


This social phenomenon, heavily steeped in symbolism, is deserving of careful study. It is important to the present investigation to report what was said on these annual occasions, and to determine what role the observance played in the reconciliation process. For only through this context are we able to understand fully the rhetorical phenomenon of post-Civil War reconciliation oratory.

A typical Memorial Day ceremony in the South can be characterized in this way: There was usually a procession of the Confederate veterans and the women and school children from the center of town to the cemetery where the bands and choral groups of the locality presented one or two "appropriate" selections. If held in a hall, the women prepared and arranged elaborate trappings such as black sashes and drapes, evergreens, and pictures of the famous deceased such as Robert E. Lee or "Stonewall" Jackson. The ladies of the community were generally accorded places of honor both on the platform and in the procession. Prayers were offered by various clergy members, and there was always the ubiquitous oration, which was often followed by more prayers and musical selections.

In considering specific celebrations of this event, two speeches made by the noted Georgia journalist and orator, John Temple Graves, provide an appropriate starting point. The first of these was delivered at West Point, Georgia, on April 26, 1876;10 the second was addressed to the Union "Decoration Day" ceremonies in Jacksonville, Florida, on May 30, 1885.11

The West Point address was one of at least two memorial addresses Graves made in the two years following the completion of his college work at the University of Georgia in August, 1875. The other speech was made in 1877 at La Grange. Taken together, these two addresses significantly helped in building GravesÕ reputation as "the orator of Georgia," as he was grandly introduced for a speaking engagement at the opening of the 1890 Piedmont Exposition in Atlanta.12 The eulogistic biographical sketch in A Standard History of Georgia and Georgians says that during his period as teacher at West Point and La Grange, "he attracted much attention for two memorial addresses, delivered over the graves of Confederate soldiers."13

The young orator begins his speech14 with a brief statement to the effect that Memorial Day is the occasion for "grateful memory" of the past and a memorial as well to woman's deathless gratitude. He also makes it clear that "the sorrows, trials, and bitterness of our desolation have dulled no chord of memory's music."

After his standard introduction, which points out the significance of the occasion, Graves moves into a melodramatic portion in which he paints an emotionally vivid but highly romanticized description of war:

Now we see the glittering sabre gleam in the bouyant hand and then dash onward to the foe; the grand leaders calm, serene and dauntless in the jaws of death ... Then the roar and the rush ... death shots falling thick and fast, like lightning from the mountain cloud ... Then the slow ambulance and the heated hospital, and the mangled, bleeding loved ones coming home to linger or to die.



He perpetuates this mood as he describes the period immediately after the war:


And after this the calm -- the calm when the storm is spent and awed nature wonders at the deep repose she holds. The solemn stillness of despair and desolation broken only by the miseres [sic] sighing through the tall proud pines, with sad soothing to a people mourning over dead hopes and perished principles in a land strewn with the salt and ashes of desolation.

The youthful Georgian then turns quickly from the horrors of war to a glowing tribute to the idealized women of the South who whisper "comfort to the troubled hearts that droop above these idolized dead." In a passage more appropriate to his later "New South" advocacy, he challenges them not only to continue the yearly tribute to the dead, but also to "work now to build again the land [the Confederate] died to save, and make it bloom and blossom like the rose."

Graves makes a smooth transition from the early portion of the address: "But these are memories and we cannot live in memories forever. There is a clamorous present and an unformed future. We must live the one and bravely mould the other."

He then turns to the principal theme of the oration, national reconciliation. He points out that the Southerner still has "a part to play in our nationÕs history," that Georgia is still "among the Union of original states," and that, "we still claim, and justly, the heritage and honor of American citizens." He urges his listeners to "tear aside this veil of prejudice and personal feeling" and to "speak peace to the troubled tides of passion and revenge that sweep upon the surface of our sectional heart." He feels that Northern "dastardly and designing politicians" have "fostered and fed the flame of sectional hatred," but that "behind the prosperous corruption" of these men the SouthÕs "Northern brethern" have hearts "that beat true and pure."

Graves moves ahead with this theme of true peace between the sections as he urges those Southerners of his generation to "come as brothers with the clasped hand of brothers, knowing around the common altar of our common country, no North, no South, no East, no West." He explains that both sides fought for what they believed, and that had the "political renegades" left them alone, "they would have clasped hands above the red stream of their comrades [sic] blood, and settled there forever the issues of the war." He calls for "a sorrowing, regretful sigh about the last home of the soldier in blue, who fought and died for his belief."

Then Graves almost negates his positive plea for intersectional harmony by contending that the "truth of history" will vindicate the South and its role in the preceding "fifteen shadowed years." History, he says, will compare the principles of these "who are said to have failed, with the principles of the men who are said to have succeeded": for example, Jefferson Davis as Secretary of War under President Pierce will be contrasted with W. W. Belknap, Secretary of War under President Grant. In other words, the honor and integrity of the lives of Southern leaders are more lasting than these character attributes as they were reflected by Northern leaders. This rhetoric of vindication is one of the recurring threads of Southern oratory for this period and is worthy of a full study itself.

The young Georgian returns to the reconciliation theme, however, saying, "Now we wish peace and brotherly love .... Oh, we would plead for peace in this storm lashed motherland!" When the birthday celebration for the nationÕs centennial occurs, let the "jubilate of reconciliation swell out in the grand chant."

Returning to his discussion of Southern principles, Graves urges his listeners, especially the younger ones, to "remember and cherish those that have come to you bathed in your fathersÕ blood. Cling to them, as the last heritage of a better and a purer day, study them, honor them, live them out in your lives."

This speech is a curious mixture of reconciliation and vindication; doubtless, Graves' extreme youth at this point led him to speak cautiously with reverence for the past (as would be expected by the Memorial Day audience) and to support staunchly Southern principles (which he never clearly delineated in any specific way). At the same time, his participation and membership in a new generation called for him to turn to the future and urge reconciliation -- if reunion could come without the expense of Southern tradition and ideals. The following passage illustrates this dichotomy:

God grant that ere my eyes may close forever, I may see this land which I do love supremely, once again the sunny South of history, with no gloom of tyranny or darkness of oppression shrouding her.

When her states shall be sovereign, her people free, and her liberties disenthralled. When she shall take her stand co-equal with her brethern of the North and the wide and measureless chasm which grasping politicians and thieves have made shall be closed forever by a reunited solidery who weep their mutual dead! When the time-honored flag of Washington and Jefferson shall not be foul with the odors of civil rights and race amalgamation, but with the glorious motto of "Constitutional Liberty"15 blazing on every fold, it shall sweep triumphant upon every breeze, in every land, on every sea, fostering patriotism, awakening freedom and scattering the mists of tyranny from the world!


GravesÕ expression of hope for the far distant future, "ere my eyes may close forever," seems a bit artificial and out of place for a youth of twenty, but the rest of this passage illustrates the pressures his generation faced and the major problems they had to deal with: intersectional animosity and racial conflict It was a plea for the bright future of the South, but with the North granting many of the SouthÕs wishes -- especially in respect to the racial question.

The tone again seems to shift back to the earlier romantic mood as Graves concludes his address. He thanks the women and once again gloriously eulogizes the Lost Cause and shows he is aware of and concerned about the expectations of his auditors: "Forgive me if I have made no florid eulogy above the sweetly sleeping patriot dead. They need no praise from me where every floweret breathes their fame, and I shrink from a withered offering." He then concludes with several more romanticized passages and with a stanza from a poem that ends with the hallowed "name of Lee. If Since Robert E. Lee was considered the leading Southern hero of the War, reference to him was a most appropriate conclusion.

Nine years later, Graves, by this time a prosperous Florida journalist, participated in a "Decoration Day" celebration in Jacksonville, Florida, which was sponsored by the Grand Army of the Republic. The scrapbook copy of this address has a significant note penned across the bottom: "This speech was one of the most successful of my life." The oration was fairly brief, in contrast with typical nineteenth century speeches, as, again in Graves' own words, he Spoke "five minutes on the following line." Graves assessed the event as "a grand affair" in which he spoke to "an immense concourse of people."16

The entire address is centered on the theme of reconciliation. Early in the speech Graves sets the tone by the following clause, "The Grand Army of the Republic locking arms with the remnant of Confederate Veterans leads a great host of citizens who sing: 'My Country 'tis of Thee.'" This skillful juxtaposing of the "Grand Army of the Republic" with "remnant of the Confederate Veterans" leaves no doubt who was the victor. Thus, from the beginning, the audience, and the sponsoring organization, understand clearly who is leading the "great host of citizens." This represented a marked change from Graves' earlier Confederate Memorial Day address in which he called far reconciliation only on Southern terms. Two reasons perhaps can explain this different tone. First, the North had noticeably capitulated by this time to. Southern demands to "let us settle the race question"; in short, reconciliation, to the degree that it had occurred, was on Southern terms. So Graves saw no need to be antagonistic; the South had lost the war, but she had won the peace.17 In the second place, Graves was doubtless deferring to the demands of the situation. The G. A. R. was sponsoring the event at which he was one of the featured speakers; why not bolster its ego -- indeed, could he have performed differently?

This entire oration is a prime example of how the rhetorical situation can drastically shape the nature of a message. The entire ceremony was oriented toward reconciliation; the resting places of both Blue and Gray were decorated by the participants. Both Northerners and their rebel counterparts had a role in the event. Accordingly, GravesÕ speech was a total reflection of the occasion and, as such, served to reinforce the mood generated that day by the rest of the program.

Graves depicts the nation as once again whole: "the bloody chasm is bridged by Northern heartiness and Southern warmth and mutual generosity, and the heart of Florida beats at last in loyal unison with the heart of Maine." The Southern orator points out a number of examples of reconciliatory efforts on the part of the North in an attempt to illustrate why the South was ready for this grand day of reconciliation. One of these occasions was when a Maine regiment sent a memorial to Congress petitioning for a pension for the "maimed and disabled veterans of the dead Confederacy." As for Southern evidence that reconciliation had occurred, Graves cites the fact that the South was sending "sincere and heartfelt and universal sympathy" to the bedside of the NorthÕs great hero [Grant], dying in New York."

In concluding, the orator appeals to the whole nation to "chant the praises of our dead together" and "honor these men simply as soldiers who fought like lions, who endured like martyrs, and bore the separate flags of the cause they loved with an heroic faith, a matchless patience, a splendid patriotism that will live as long as the name of Jackson and the name of Grant." By thus juxtaposing the names of Jackson and Grant, Graves skillfully implies that the nation is one.

In both of these speeches, one presented by an untested young man, the other delivered by a respected citizen who had earned a name for himself, Graves appeals to the traditional Southern value of honor of the past and paints an optimistic, positive verbal picture of the reunited nation and its future. He also reflects the Southern respect for womanhood and the love of a martial spirit. He gains credibility and audience identity by urging the listeners to respect and remember the past, then moves to his advocacy of a reunited nation. Based on these basic strategies, he builds a reconciliation message which was bound to be appealing to his auditors.

On May 9, 1879, Alfred Moore Waddell attended a Memorial Day celebration at New Bern, North Carolina, and delivered "a most scholarly, beautiful and appropriate address" which "for good taste and ability, has been rarely equaled and never surpassed by any similar oration in this city."18 This speech19 was presented less than a year after Waddell had been defeated as the incumbent in a race for Congress. Although his defeat had been at least partially caused by a mass circulation of an 1865 speech he had made advocating limited Negro suffrage,20 the foregoing statement by a local newswriter reflects that Waddell's credibility was indeed still strong. According to the newspaper report, "upwards of two thousand persons" attended the ceremonies.21

The program itself fit well the demands of the occasion. There was a choir" composed of many of the best voices in the city" as well as a band for accompaniment. The first number was "a well known requiem" written by a North Carolinian, Mrs. Mary Bayard Clarke, "The Guard Around the Tomb." This piece was followed by "an appropriate prayer" by the Reverend L. C. Vass of the First Presbyterian Church and another hymn, "Cover Them Over With Flowers."22

After the mood was thus appropriately created, the Honorable Mr. Waddell delivered his address.23 It is fitting that this speech is the last to be considered in this survey of the Memorial Day orations, for the speaker begins the message with a description of all that he sees a Memorial Day address as being. His introduction discusses so well what this study bears out concerning the occasion, that it is worth repeating in full:

Ladies of the Memorial Association:

It is customary on these occasions for those who perform the duty assigned to me today, to paint, as best they may, that picture of the past on which Southern eyes will always gaze with admiration, and before which, Southern hearts will always throb with mingled pride and sorrow. They try to portray in vivid colors the heroism, the splendid courage, the patient toil and suffering, the unselfish patriotism and the sublime devotion of our countrymen who died in an unequal struggle for the preservation of what they believed to be the sacred inheritance of constitutional liberty bequeathed to them by their fathers. The tribute is just, the service is proper, though mortal tongue may vainly strive to form in fitting words the thoughts which such an occasion and such a theme inspire. The season too, is meet, for it is redolent of hope and promise. Not beneath withered branches swaying in the winter wind, and amidst dead leaves strewed upon the naked earth shall such services be held; but in the tender spring-time, when to the music of soft winds, odorous with the breath of flowers and gladdened by the songs of birds, transfigured nature makes manifest the miracle of the resurrection. Amidst such surroundings we meet today in this silent city to do honor to the memory of our dead.

After thus sketching what the Memorial Day oration and the ceremonies should be, Waddell announces he will break the mold: "I am here, not as a mere eulogist, but as one of the survivors of the war, who, instructed by its lessons and by the experience of the fourteen years that have elapsed since its close, deems it wiser to speak more of other things than of our love and veneration for the memory of our dead kinsmen and friends." He then enhances his credibility by pointing out that he had given Memorial Day speeches in other North Carolina cities, in the nation's capital, and "in a Northern city at the request of thousands of those who confronted us in battle during the war." He thus presents himself as not only a survivor of the war, but also as one who has participated actively in public service after the battles were over.

Waddell believes that "war has generally been the precursor of every advance in civilization"; he develops this idea at some length and it serves as the major premise for all that follows in the address. The next major point growing out of his basic assumption is that through the destruction of slavery the South "reaped a threefold advantage." In the first place, the South was "relieved of what was an incubus upon us, and .... a reproach in the eyes of other nations." Secondly, the section has "secured the inestimable benefits of free labor," and, finally, the defeated nation "returned to [its] position in the Union, with largely increased political power, there to remain."24

Then, proceeding on his guiding assumption, Waddell makes the point that had the Confederacy won the war, the victory would "have been disastrous to us eventually." He then declares that "our dead died not in vain" -- a sentiment which doubtless the Ladies of the Memorial Association were expecting to hear. Because of "their heroic valor and patient fortitude," compromise was impossible; thereby those "extreme measures [war and emancipation], the inevitable reaction of which must produce the ultimate prosperity of the South," were brought upon the section.

The orator again reminds his listeners of his basic point of view, that "war has generally been the precursor of every advance in civilization." The energies released by war "are subsequently directed to the acts of peace, which thus receive a new impulse and are promoted accordingly." Therefore, the South's recuperative powers are great and will help the defeated states meet the responsibilities of the present. He reinforces a feeling of oneness with the victor by asserting that there are currently few in the South who would "advocate the separate independence for which we fought." Again exemplifying the spirit of vindication so often present in these addresses, Waddell points out that the SouthÕs principles have not changed but simply that "circumstances are entirely different."

Waddell's second major premise is that civil liberty must be preserved at all costs and in a government where "law is supreme over all." Here the orator moves into the reconciliation theme by expressing his view that these civil liberties are the common interest of every American citizen. In order to preserve them, the citizens must struggle against "party and sectional animosity, based upon inherited prejudice and stimulated by personal ambition." He continues to develop this theme and encourages all to realize the value in the "union of co-equal states under the constitution" and the laws made under its jurisdiction. He states his hope that the union will live and "be perpetual." This sentiment is echoed, he says, from the "earth which holds these ashes," from "where soldiers sleep," and from "the graves of our forefathers. "

Waddell concludes by invoking the last words of Stonewall Jackson -- "Let us cross over the river" -- and by praying for the future peace of "our Israel."

Memorial Day being what it was -- an occasion to recall the sacrifices of life offered up in war with a bitter enemy -- it is surprising that there was any reconciliatory rhetoric at all. But as we have seen in these three examples, some Southerners saw this situation as an opportunity to express their feelings of sectional peace. For the other 364 days of the year, we can imagine that many, due to the bitterness and animosity still present in their localities, were compelled to mute their desire for harmony. But in the quiet cemetery on a day dedicated to honoring the dead, sentiments bespeaking intersectional peace were not out of place; those whose hearts were touched by the occasion and surroundings would be susceptible to oratorical pleas that the sectional hostility which caused the war and which was further generated by the struggle itself could be at last laid to rest. The Memorial Day observances provided a natural platform for the speakers to express their ideas concerning respect for Southern traditions and honor for Confederate heroes. Once they had convinced their audience that they were true to the South, they could make their appeals for intersectional peace and harmony.

Doubtless the sanctity of womanhood in the South contributed greatly to the success of Memorial Day and the orations delivered for the occasion. The women, by and large, founded, organized, and sustained the occasion through their local Memorial Associations. The men doubtless felt that their support of the services would reflect their honor and respect for the women of the South. And, of course, their support of the ceremonies would be one way in which they could compensate for having lost the war. Their humiliation over their defeat on the battlefields was indeed strong,25 especially after the glorious send-offs they had received from the hometown women in 1861. The Confederate soldier felt he owed the Southern woman a great debt; Memorial Day gave him an opportunity to repay it in part. As one newspaper writer expressed it, the Memorial services were to be respected because of the woman's place in it:

In the gentle light of Spring, with the deep blue heavens above, fair women gather around the graves on the anniversary of the death of the Confederacy and cover them with choicest flowers .... Monuments of stone or bronze are naught compared to the beautiful ceremony of decorating the mounds over the remains of the heroes who were buried in the gray .... Then let us gather in our quiet cemetery tomorrow, and aid the devoted women of our city and country in paying respect to the dead of the Lost Cause.26



Clement Eaton and other Southern historians have demonstrated that in the immediate post-war years it was the women who felt the most bitterly toward the despised Yankee.27 In many cases, the soldier was ready to forgive and forget, but the women were hardly so forgiving. This fact tells us much about demands levied upon the reconciliatory orator, especially when the occasion at which he spoke was sponsored by local women and he had been invited by them to participate.

Graves and Waddell were both effective in their attempts to meet the demands of the situation. By rooting their remarks on reconciliation in a rhetoric of "vindication" (i.e., the South and her "principles" were right), these two speakers were able to make their audience more receptive to their ideas of reconciliation and reunion. By referring to the glories of war to a people who were traditionally martial in spirit, they could strengthen their line of argument that intersectional peace was right and good. Through both these considerations, the speakers were starting with premises already held by their auditors and moving from them into ideas which were perhaps not quite so readily acceptable.

In addition, both speakers imbued much of their messages with sentiments likely to be compelling for the women in their audiences who had planned the ceremonies. For instance, Graves on several occasions praised the women for their role in helping honor the Southern dead. Both Graves and Waddell recognized that the South had a great resource in her women, and in general both heaped praise on Southern womanhood and the chivalric code. Waddell, for example, identified with the sentiments of the women in his audience by praising them, by asserting that God had ordained the SouthÕs defeat, and by praising the dead and affirming that what they died for was good.

A form of ceremonial address closely related to the Memorial Day speech which praised the entire body of dead soldiers was the eulogy given in honor of a single departed citizen. The eulogy has been a part of Western rhetorical history and theory for twenty-five centuries, but perhaps nowhere did it exist as a more refined, artistic type of utterance than it did in the Southern states during the late nineteenth century. The eulogistic occasion called for an address which exalted the departed as a man of honor and principle. Facing no small task in discovering ample reason to pay homage to some of those who had died, the orator of the day considered carefully how he could discuss the deceased in the best possible light. The dead who were commemorated had usually participated in the war effort, and there would have been little or no way to avoid discussing their military exploits and contributions. Yet, in speaking of their wartime experiences, the eulogist would have violated the audience's expectations and taboos to rekindle sectional animosity. The listeners wished to hear of the heroic aspects of warfare -- their romantic, daring knight with his dashing cavalier attitudes about war. They did not wish to recall the intersectional hatred and bitterness that caused the conflict. Therefore, the eulogy afforded an ideal opportunity to focus on the message of reconciliation.

One of the first post-war deaths of a national figure, which served to reinforce the reconciliation spirit, was that of President James A. Garfield in September, 1881. After many weeks of suffering the agony inflicted by the assassin's bullet, Garfield died in New Jersey. His struggle to a void death had been a accompanied and followed by the deep concern of the nations of the world; when he lost the battle, the world grieved. In the South, many memorial services were held, two of which featured eulogistic sermons worthy of consideration.

The first eulogy to be examined here was delivered by the Right Reverend William Bell White Howe, Bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of South Carolina, at Grace Church, Charleston, on September 26, 1881.28 The Sunday service represented a combined effort of all the Episcopal Churches of Charleston; the attendance was described as "very large."29

Bishop Howe begins the oration by pointing out that although the President of the United States and the Governor of South Carolina had pro-claimed a day of mourning for the late President, the South Carolinians were fulfilling "no reluctant but a ready obedience." He then devotes some time to a discussion of how amazing had been the sympathy demonstrated around the world for GarfieldÕs months of suffering. It is not the world-wide attention shown Garfield that is so wonderful to Howe, but the "sympathy for him in these Southern States, especially the sympathy of this state."

He then tries to determine why it is that the South felt a "very deep and profound" sympathy over the assassination. He points out that it was not only GarfieldÕs long and brave effort to live nor yet our respect for his early struggle for education and his climb to the Presidency, but rather, it is the simple fact that "he was the President of the United States." This fact alone causes the Southerner to recognize once again that he is a member of a "body of which [the President] is the head." The long months of agony suffered by Garfield caused the South to realize, according to the speaker, that "the United States is one Nation, that we of the South are a part of that Nation, and that in the death of President Garfield our head was destroyed, and that we the body were smitten in him."

Reverend Howe then turns from this discussion of why the South was in sympathy with Garfield -- because he was the American President -- to a rather lengthy, and, in this critic's judgment, an unnecessary and tasteless idea in the context of the eulogy for Garfield. He contends that the South was right in the late Civil War and that "the North was wrong in her interpretation of the fundamental principles of the Constitution." He feels that the South accepts the defeat and that indeed, the war opened "a new chapter in American history [in which] . . . the future of his growing country may have its meridian come to birth in great part out of the pangs and travail of the late war." He makes the statement that the South accepts defeat, but holds fast to her "former convictions." He cites as evidence the fact that the South regards those issues which divided the nation as now settled and its "profound sympathy for our late President based ... on the recognition of the unity of the country, and of him as its legitimate head." If the South truly did accept the decision of the war, then it could no longer hold fast to its former convictions which the war had supposedly settled. At any rate, Bishop Howe's assertion that the South saw the nation to be unified over the sadness of GarfieldÕs death doubtless served to reinforce that belief, nascent though it might have been.

The eulogist concludes the assassination shows that "we need . . . more reverence for our laws and those in authority." He reflects his American nativistic fear of foreign-inspired anarchy when he says that "these lawless disorders in the Old World," such as the murder of the Russian Emperor, will "find their way to this side of the Atlantic."

Apparently Howe felt some concern that he had not spoken as his audience had expected him to speak, for he observes; "If I have spoken today in a way not customary to our pulpit, the occasion which bring us together will answer as my excuse." Obviously the Bishop believed his congregation did not like to hear politics from the pulpit: "Because a man is a clergyman, he is none the less a citizen, but interested equally with the layman in all that appertains to the welfare and the prosperity of the country in which he lives." He then cites the Biblical examples of Christ and St. Paul, who were interested in the political dimension of life.

Near the end of the sermon, Howe repeats his earlier statement that Southerners were "conscientious in our struggles and in our convictions." This time he says that "God decided against us." If the South is to be just to its "living children and in humble submission to the will of God," it must move into the future, and solve such issues as the Southern race problem and also the national civil service problem, which had caused the death of Garfield.

What was Bishop Howe's main purpose in speaking that day to the assembled Episcopalians of Charleston? Was he merely trying to pay tribute to the slain President? Or was he concerned with an idea more fundamental and important? As one observation, Howe is quite forceful in his statements concerning the role of the President -- the leader of all the nation. Very early in his sermon he is careful to assert that the sympathy shown in the South for Garfield is deep and widespread. He is equally concerned to express his belief that the President is ordained by God: that his authority to rule comes from God. These and other statements regarding the grief and sympathy of the entire nation, the concern of the American citizen, his repeated use of the phrase "the Nation," and his description of the "mass of voters," all lead one to believe that the Bishop's major goal was to express his belief in intersectional reconciliation. He obviously wanted to believe, and hoped his auditors would believe, that the animosity of past years had died during the months that Garfield suffered. It does not appear, however, that Howe was truly convinced himself; perhaps, as he reinforces the belief in the efficacy of reconciliation several times in the minds of his listeners, he was similarly reinforcing it in his own mind. He is deeply concerned about strengthening his listener's feeling for intersectional peace; this student believes that through the clarity of his message and the positive repetition of the reconciliation theme, Bishop Howe effectively achieved this major goal.

Howe is obviously very much concerned about conforming to the expectations or demands of his specific rhetorical situation. In addition, he is trying to make his parishioners see that he does have the right to speak to them about political matters. Yet he is not too sure how they will respond to this "meddling" in politics. Therefore, he shows that other great names in the Church had also been so concerned. Thus, a second purpose -- and one that is important at least to Howe -- is to perform in the manner congruous with the set expectation of his audience within their situation. The Bishop shows an admirable awareness of the nature of his audience, but it can be argued that at points he is overly negative in his approach. Possibly he is unsure of his leadership of his people at this particular point in time. There is good reason for Howe to be concerned that he live up to his auditorsÕ expectations. For the preceding decade, the Bishop had been deeply involved in a major battle within his diocese regarding the role of the Negro in the Episcopal Church. Howe, who was liberal in the matter, was charged by some "with the desire to ignore racial lines in the church and break down social barriers."30 Doubtless he was constantly taking care to stay out of troubled waters as much as possible since this issue was causing so much disharmony within his state; this speech is a fine example of his concern. He is obviously aware of the need to consider the expectations and concerns of his auditors, and such awareness is essential if speech communication is to be effective.

On October 5, 1881, Atticus G. Haygood delivered a memorial sermon on Garfield to the newly enrolled students at Emory College, near Atlanta.31 Obviously, Haygood, the president of Emory, saw the occasion as one in which he could teach the new students some moral lessons drawn from the life and death of Garfield; in fact, part of the subtitle reads, "an incentive to the young men of the Nation." This speech constitutes a good example of a lecturing style in which most of the supporting materials are presented in the terms of the speaker's authority and credibility and out of his personal knowledge and conviction.

Haygood praises the fact that the whole world was aware of Garfield's condition each morning "before breakfast" due to the "progress of the art and inventions of our time." In comparison, he points out that "when President Harrison died, it was six weeks before the fact was known in every county east of the Mississippi River." All the world not only knew of Garfield's suffering, but sympathized with him and his family. The preacher asserts that he believes every Christian man, woman, and child were praying to the "good God to spare his life." The impressive facts of Garfield's funeral "illustrate in reality what we teach in theory -- the brotherhood of the human race."

Although the nation, indeed the world, was praying for the wounded man, Haygood believes that these prayers were lacking in confession of our common guilt in the killing of Garfield. He expresses his belief that the assassination "was but the final expression of the rancorous hates, that have disgraced and dishonored our politics for at least three decades of bitter years." Later, he remarks, "there is perhaps nothing in the history of any people that contains so much unmitigated hate and prejudice as the literature of American politics for a generation past."

Haygood then denounces the excesses of the American political party battles and the spoils system -- which, to some degree, had led to the death of Garfield. The President's murder was not only the "final expression of rancorous hates" between the North and South, but also the "final expression of the bitterness and prejudice of our politics and of the greed for office that amounts almost to a national mania." It is at this point that Haygood turns to his most explicitly moralistic, lecturing style, "Let us remember, [he says] it is as murderous to stab a reputation as a body; it is as devilish to destroy a man's fame by slander as it is to take his life by shot, or steel, or poison."

The college president then abruptly moves into a discussion of whether the prayers of the nation were answered. He believes they were, since Garfield's family was given "great grace" and was "sustained beyond the power of human fortitude or sympathy." In addition, the prolonging of the President's life gave time for his successor to become better equipped for the Presidency and the nation better prepared for a change in administration. But the chief reason Haygood believes the prayers were answered was that this long period of suffering brought the nation together as it "had not been brought together in fifty years." He remarks, "There is more genuine brotherhood and true national sentiment in the masses of the American people today than there has been in the last half century." Indeed, Haygood asserts that Garfield on his death bed had done "more to heal the bleeding wounds of his country than all others have done since the horrid war began." From Haygood's point of view, "It was worth dying for to have done such a work."

Turning from this reconciliation theme, Haygood goes to "other aspects of this man's career." In the first place, he points out, in the grandest Horatio Alger tradition, Garfield's climb from a "widow's son in poverty" to the White House is possible only in the United States. His college career is viewed as an example to be followed by all those students who wish to raise themselves out of poverty. And, finally the nation sympathized, not just because Garfield was President, although that contributed a partial explanation, but also because his personal character was to be admired and because he was a Christian.

To Haygood, Garfield was "in himself a large expression of the true American idea of this government." That idea involves several principles and the speaker mentions three "of the corner-stones": "the perpetual union of these States," "an unsectional administration of the government," and "a fair chance and equal justice for all men of every race."

The preacher concludes by pointing out "some duties and principles of supreme importance" which Garfield's life and death exemplified and which all add to Haygood's call for national peace. First, "Let us have done with abuse, and lying, and fraud, and violence, in our politics." Secondly, "We should cultivate a true spirit of national brotherhood." Again he observes, "to hand down to our children bitterness of a quarrel .... is treason to the country." And, finally, "We owe a duty to President Arthur. His position is difficult, his burden heavy .... We owe him respect, patience, a fair trial, honest support, and our fervent prayers, that he may have divine grace and help for the duties of his great office." Haygood goes on to say: "We cannot afford to return to the old bitter and savage way; we cannot forget either our own interest in a good government or the worldÕ s stake in this best and greatest of all Republics that ever flourished or fell."

At the time Haygood delivered this sermon, he was approaching the peak of his fame and prestige. His widely hailed "New South" sermon had been presented the Fall before; his triumphant Northern speaking tour of the past Winter was over; a Northern banker had donated a large sum to Emory College because of Haygood's leadership; he was within six months of being elected Bishop of the Methodist Church (an honor he declined until 1890); and -- a year later -- he would be appointed General Agent for the John Slater Fund, which was established by the Northern textile manufacturer for the benefit of Southern Negro education. He had been the highly successful president of Emory College since 1875 and had strengthened immensely its sagging fortunes. As his leading biographer states, "From the summer of 1880 on, Dr. Haygood's exuberant self-confidence marked him as an extraordinary man .... Major credit for this transformation was obviously attributed to successful management of Emory College during the difficult years before 1879."32 Not only had he rescued Emory from financial and enrollment trouble,33 he had brought a "new seriousness"34 to the Oxford campus. The students held Dr. Haygood in high regard and they especially liked to hear him preach.35

This particular speech is obviously designed to instruct and inspire HaygoodÕs young charges. The pervasive tone of the college president's address is quite dogmatic, however, and relies heavily on his own personal credibility to support much of what he says. At other times, his rhetorical support lies within the auditors themselves as he reinforces ideas which they doubtless already have. Again, he uses Biblical proof for some of his assertions. But he does not go deeply into elaborate proofs in the development of his main ideas. Obviously he is confident that his listeners picture him as a man who can be trusted and believed. This assumption would seem reasonable, for, as Mann points out in his biography of Haygood, "to all Georgia Methodists, the pulpit at Oxford ... was thought to be, verily, a holy place."36 Combine this feeling of mystique and awe with HaygoodÕs high ethos in the eyes of the students and faculty at Emory, and Haygood could well be expected to lecture in a rather authoritarian manner, and be excused for it -- indeed, to be highly successful.

Both Howe and Haygood show that Garfield personified the American ideal: a poor boy raising himself to the White House. As Haygood puts it, his career "was not and is not possible in any country in the world but ours .... A country is worth loving and dying for in which such a career as GarfieldÕ s is possible." Howe points out "how he struggled with poverty and hardships in behalf of mental culture, and how he overcame and at length rose to the highest office of the State, and then, just as he reached the summit to which there is no beyond for the American citizen [was killed]." Both speakers thus show that this American dream is worth support and pursuit by their Southern auditors. Garfield, a Northerner, is held up as a model to follow in the Horatio Alger tradition -- a rhetorical strategy which doubtless enhanced these speakersÕ reconciliation effort.

These two ministers also claimed that GarfieldÕs suffering brought the nation together as one, and that the South lost her President since Garfield was, in HaygoodÕs words, "the President of the whole nation. " Both men believed that Garfield would have been just to the South and that -- again to use HaygoodÕs words -- "his administration would tend to restore the lost brotherhood of our people." In sum, both Howe and Haygood skillfully used this national period of mourning as an occasion to call for national harmony.

On August 7, 1885, the victorious Union General, Ulysses Simpson Grant, died and many in the South mourned his death. Across the Southland -- in Atlanta, Savannah, Charleston, Knoxville, and in many other Southern cities and towns -- businesses closed, flags were at mourning height, and bells tolled. In many of the cities, the Negro churches and Negro militia organizations held special services and parades. In the capital of the Confederacy, the Richmond Howitzers fired cannon on the half hour from sunrise to sunset and the Phil Karney Post of the Grand Army of the Republic sponsored an honorary burial service for the deceased President. In Lynchburg, Virginia, all the city offices, banks and a few business houses were closed in respect and at Pensacola, Florida, bells tolled from noon until 2:00 p.m. on the eighth of August.37

One of the most impressive services was held at the Methodist Church in Chattanooga, Tennessee ,on Saturday, August 8. The service was dominated by the reconciliation theme, with each member of the local G. A. R. being accompanied side-by-side in the procession by an ex-Confederate soldier.38 The crowd was quite large, with every seat and all standing room in the church filled, and with "hundreds" standing outside the doors.39 Four speakers were included in the ceremonies: two former Federals, Reverend T. C. Warner and Major C. D. McGuffey, and two reconstructed Confederates, David M. Key and Reverend J.M. Bachman.40 Reverend Warner delivered a "deeply solemn and impressive" speech during which tears fell freely from all eyes." He pleaded to God for the "new made grave [to] mark a period to all bickering, [and] sectional prejudices." Again, he hoped that God would "keep us all an indivisible and a united people for all time to come."41

This former Yankee Chaplain was followed by David M. Key of Tennessee, the Postmaster General in President HayesÕ administration, who delivered a brief address which "was listened to with marked attention throughout"42 and which the second Union speaker, Major McGuffey, appraised as "eloquent."43

Judge Key begins the address in a highly personal way by referring to the honor bestowed upon him by the committee which chose him to represent the Confederates. He then expresses his awareness of the "delicacy and embarrassment of the position ... and the great danger of saying something inappropriate to the purposes ... or ... of giving utterance to some idea of sentiment contrary to the opinions and feelings of the body of our people whose representative I am deputed to be."44 He goes on to say that he is "anxious not to wound or offend."

Key says that although this particular service cannot escape the "sight and presence" of "our late struggle," he trusts "the time has come when we can offer ... our prejudices and animosities as an unclean sacrifice ... upon the altars of patriotism and religion." The Tennessean then uses the oft-expressed story of Grant's letter to General Buckner which observed that the differences between the sections would have been solved, had the soldiers who had fought the war been left alone to solve them in their own way. Key believes that those who would prevent reconciliation are those who "did not seek or find opportunities for heroic achievement on one side or the other." If one were to look for a person "who wallows and revels in the bitterness and hates of the past," it would be seen, once he is found, that his name "was upon no muster roll, or if it was, the roll tells of no deeds of valor he performed or wounds he endured." But those who fought for "great principles" on either side were "prepared to stand by the decision" of arms.

The speaker moves next into his basic theme, that "The South did not place a proper estimate upon the character, abilities and services of General Grant ... [but now] they see the man and appreciate and honor him." He uses two brief analogies -- one of a boy being chastized by his mother and the other of a man losing a fight. From the analogies he concludes: it will take time for both the boy and the man to get over their resentment toward those persons who defeated them.

The former Confederate is careful to point out two examples of Grant's magnaminity: his not claiming the horses of Southern soldiers after Appomattox, and his interposition to prevent the arrest of General Robert E. Lee. Then Key goes on to the ultimate expression of reconciliation:


He [Grant] believed in the justice of the cause he had espoused ... and for myself, though I zealously and honestly opposed him and his cause until the end of the struggle, I am free to say here and now, as I have said heretofore that it was best for us, for the South, that General Grant and his cause triumphed, and there are many, very many thousands of as gallant men as periled their lives to the Southern cause who are of the same opinion.

     Key then tempers this statement somewhat, pointing out that Grant could not have fought for any other force than the Union Army, having been a citizen and a native of free states; according to the "Southern theory of the powers of the general and State governments," he "would have been a traitor to both had he joined the South." He then goes on to contend that Grant should be honored by the South because of "his success over a powerful and gallant foe." The future will praise Grant even more, contends Key, "when the smoke of the strife in which he engaged shall have lifted and the passions and prejudices of our times have been forgotten."

Key concludes by praising Grant: "The brightest star has fallen from our nationÕs firmament, but the story of its lustre and beauty shall live as long as history and song shall last."

At some point in the speech -- apparently after his formal presentation had closed -- Key told two stories from his own personal experience with Grant which reflect the dead General's kind feelings toward Southerners, his compassion for others, and his modesty. Although it is impossible to tell from the newspaper report at what point in the speech the speaker told these stories, it is obvious that they effectively supplemented his very personal introduction and related well with the tone of reconciliation and sectional harmony which Key was careful to create and sustain in his message.

This speech is a skillful adaptation to the difficult situation. Key is in an awkward position as he acknowledges early in the address and, as he says, he is "anxious not to wound or offend." His words reflect that there are some "unreconstructed" rebels in the audience who have no love or respect for Grant; after all, as he put it, Grant "had triumphed over the principles they held sacred." What could he say that would temper their feelings against Grant, pay the dead General honor and respect, and yet not build a barrier between himself and his rebel auditors?

His prestige as the Southerner who was an integral part of the bargain of 1877 -- Hayes agreed to appoint him as a cabinet member -- gave him a certain aura of respect. As we have seen, his speech is diplomatic and courteous, as warranted by the situation. By pointing out in the first moments of the address that he does not wish to "wound or offend," Key lets his audience know that he does not intend to stir up animosities, but rather will speak for intersectional peace. He, like many other post-war speakers who wished to advocate reunion, placed the blame for reconstruction and disharmony on politicians and not on the general citizen on both sides who had "risked his honor and his life." He asks Northerners in his audience to accept the fact of human nature that the South only recently is coming to "place a proper estimate" on the life of Grant, and thereby excuses the South for not honoring Grant as it should have. By showing specific examples of how magnanimous Grant was, Key leads the Southerners in his audience to see virtue in a Northern hero. He says that in all of Grant's military and civil dealings with the South he was "kindly and generous to his Southern opponents when he had the opportunity." Therefore, the South could have no reason to dislike him or to fail to honor him. If the South could respect Grant, progress toward reconciliation could be made. Key devotes most of his speech to this strategy: showing the South how fine a man Grant really was. In support of this approach, Key uses some personal experiences he had with Grant, thus giving a deeper sense of credibility to his remarks. His speech surely helped to bridge the chasm between the Northerners and Southerners present in his audience by instilling respect for the late President and victorious Union commander.

In the closing year of the 1880s Jefferson Davis, the only President of the Confederate States of America, died at his home on the Mississippi Gulf Coast. Although Davis had been maligned by Northerner and Southerner alike, his death brought waves of sorrow across Dixie. It appeared almost that his fellow Southerners wished to do penitence for the harsh feelings they had felt toward their President who had failed. The NorthÕs treatment of Davis after the war, while admittedly not harsh, had strengthened in some Southerners their hatred for the North45 and added to the need for reconciliation. Southern sympathy abounded for Davis, and at the same time the death of the CSA President opened the floodgates for a new surge of the reconciliation spirit, as reflected and encouraged in two selected speeches.

The first was given in Richmond, Virginia, by Reverend Moses Drury Hoge on December 11, 1889,46 and the other was presented two days later in Little Rock, Arkansas, by Judge U.M. Rose.47 The first was delivered to an audience in the Second Presbyterian Church of Richmond and the second in a more secular setting, the Hall of the Arkansas House of Representatives. These speeches were not selected because of any significant degree of representativeness; they are being discussed here simply because they are the only texts of eulogies for Davis that were found. They will reflect, however, what was said in two separate states with presumably different type auditors: the one, the heartland of the Confederacy; the other, a "border state."

In the former capital of the Confederacy, sorrow ran deeply. The Second Presbyterian Church, a congregation "of great influence in the Presbyterian Church of the United States,"48 was "crowded from floor to dome, and hundreds of people stood in the aisles and around the doors, such was their eagerness to hear the address"49 at this memorial service. Hoge had come to this church as its first pastor in 1845, two years after he had finished his academic program at VirginiaÕs Union Theological Seminary, and had remained with the church until his death in 1899. His great ethos lent additional power to this service for Davis, due to the location, the prestige of the church, and the close relationship of the pastor to Davis himself during the war years, this simple ceremony in Richmond was doubtless second in importance only to the actual funeral itself in New Orleans. Hoge was at the peak of his fame in 1889, having made one of the principal addresses at the London Alliance of Reformed Churches in 1889 and was one of the leading speakers at the Boston meeting of the Evangelical Alliance for the United States in 1889. The following year he was "proclaimed the first citizen of Richmond by the people of Richmond, regardless of race or creed."50

Reverend Hoge begins his address by an astute introduction which relates him in a very personal way to President Davis. He says that he heard DavisÕ first speech to the people of Richmond, heard his inaugural address, had ridden horseback with him "along the lines of fortification which guarded the city," "had experiences of his courtesy in his house and in his office," and was with Davis after the evacuation of Richmond. All these experiences "enabled me to learn the personal traits which characterized him as a man, as well as the official and public acts which marked his administration."

After thus relating himself closely to Davis, Hoge moves into the major reconciliatory discussion in the oration, describing how it is the duty of the minister

to soften asperities, to reconcile antagonistic elements, to plead for mutual forbearance, to urge such devotion to the common weal as to bring all the people, North, South, East and West, into harmonious relations with each other, so as to combine all the resources of the entire country into unity of effort for the welfare of the whole.


He then says that "there are no geographical boundaries to the qualities which constitute noble manhood," so there should be many in states outside the South "who will be in sympathy with the eulogies which will be pronounced to-day."

This address could well have been titled, "Statesman for Our Time," for this topic is what the minister spends much of his time discussing: "The qualities and attributes which constitute the patriot statesman." In the first place, the eulogist observes, we need men "who are profound students of History, philosophy, and ethics [emphasis his]." He uses as examples the founding fathers, and he brings them before the audience through rhetorical questions which require the listener to think with the speaker in order to reach the conclusion. For example, Hoge says, "Who wrote the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution. . . . ? Who built up our system of Jurisprudence?" For centuries, the rhetorical question has been thought of as a useful tactical tool for the speaker, and Reverend Hoge employs them most effectively in this address. Secondly, he contends, the country now needs men who can "lead public opinion ... instead of waiting to ascertain the popular drift" And in the third place, the statesmen of the day should be men of unquestioned integrity.

In this rather lengthy discussion of the qualities and attributes needed in our legislative leaders, Hoge is making a subtle, but forceful criticism of the composition of the current Congress, with its domination of business-oriented men. He attempts to demonstrate that the nation needs leaders with more than merely this business-industrial background, and implies that Congress is less effective because its members are too exclusively oriented to the world of finance and industry. He handles his criticism so skillfully, however, that the leading railroad magnate or Congressman could hardly take exception. For example, as Hoge develops this portion of his speech, he admits that commercial background is useful and necessary for some of our legislators; others need training in history, philosophy and ethics either along with or in lieu of their business training. He then implies that our representatives should be similar to men like Burke, Fox, Chatham, and Peel, or men with the attributes of Jefferson, Madison, or Washington. Holding up these ideals could serve to inspire our delegates,  while at the same time subtly reminding them that they did not fit this mold. Still holding up an ideal to the business-oriented Congress and political leadership, Hoge says the statesman must have the "courage and the ability to lead public opinion in ways that are right, instead of waiting to ascertain the popular drift, no matter how base, that he may servilely follow it." Again presenting the ideal political leader as a man of integrity with "untarnished honor, incorruptible honesty, and the courage to do right at any hazard," Hoge establishes an inspiring goal with which few Congressmen could disagree.

The preacher closes by a summary statement that if we "duly heed" these lessons, "this solemnity ... will be a preparation for the time when we shall follow our departed chief." He then pronounces a benediction statement and the services close with the singing of a hymn and a benediction by one of the other ministers present.

This speech by Reverend Hoge is a masterpiece of nineteenth-century public address. Its organization is tightly knit; smooth transitions make it easy to follow and his clear word choice promotes "instant intelligibility." His method of forcing his audience to think actively along with the speaker not only makes the address more communicative, but also reflects the preacher's respect for the intelligence of his listeners. This address is, in addition, one of the less sentimental of all the eulogies surveyed for this paper and was one of those speeches oriented less to flights of stylistic fancy. Thus Hoge demonstrates his basic respect for the sensibilities of his listeners. In this appraisal of Davis, Hoge is quite realistic, choosing those aspects of Davis' life about which he can talk with honesty and sincerity -- a tone which is often missing from late nineteenth-century southern eulogies. In focusing on DavisÕ exemplary character, Hoge is able to draw moral lessons aimed at bettering the lives of the listeners while at the same time paying homage to Davis.

The Presbyterian minister begins his speech with one of the better introductions of all those dealt with in the present study. He skillfully relates himself to Davis and enhances his credibility in the minds of his listeners, but without appearing too egotistical as relates to his relationship with the deceased Confederate President. With his own outstanding war record in the minds of his auditors,51 his brief recounting of his role in the hostilities in concert with Davis would truly have made his own prestige grow, thus solidly enhancing his ethos.

In addition, Hoge reveals his sensitivity to the memorial situation by counseling against an acrimonious attitude and saying that he expects the "outlying congregations to feel and act in sympathy with what is now passing in the sad but queenly city which guards the gates of the Mississippi." He must take care not to praise the departed Confederate Chieftain too lavishly, in order not to offend the feelings of those who had little respect for DavisÕ conduct of the war (that is, those Southerners who had opposed Davis and doubtless came to the memorial service out of a sense of duty, not respect). At the same time, however, Hoge must paint a glowing picture of DavisÕ life in order to satisfy those who loved and respected Davis and all he stood for. Perhaps of all the speeches examined for this dissertation, this one best illustrates the passage in PericlesÕ celebrated Funeral Oration in which the Athenian laments:

And I could have wished that the reputation of many brave men were not to be imperiled in the mouth of a single individual, to stand or fall according as he spoke well or ill. For it is hard to speak properly upon a subject where it is even difficult to convince your hearers that you are speaking the truth. On the one hand, the friend who is familiar with every fact of the story may think that some point has not been set forth with that fullness which he wishes and knows it to deserve; on the other, he who is a stranger to the matter may be led by envy to suspect exaggeration if he hears anything above his own nature. For men can endure to hear others praised only so long as they can severally persuade themselves of their own ability to equal the actions recounted: when this point is passed, envy comes in and with it incredibility.52

The eulogy is indeed a difficult speech assignment, but Hoge fulfilled it well.

One writer says that Hoge "made careful and thorough special preparation for every discourse";53 it is not difficult to imagine that he took special caution in his choice of examples and his wording of ideas for this important message. Its impact and acclaim was such that the address was printed as a special supplement to The Central Presbyterian church newspaper.

Only at one time early in the eulogy does Hoge directly appeal to the spirit of reunion. In this extended passage, the eulogist reminds the congregation that "political harrangues and discussions calculated to excite sectional animosities are utterly inappropriate to the hour." Hoge also hopes that

there will be many in the Northern and Western states who will be in sympathy with the eulogies which will be pronounced today by the speakers who hold up to view those characteristics of their dead chieftain which have always commanded the admiration of right-minded and right-hearted men in all lands and in all centuries.

He then asserts that soon "the question will not relate so much to the color of the uniform, blue or gray, as to the character of the men who wore it."

Although the statements just quoted represent the extent of his overtly reconciliatory rhetoric, Hoge still creates an implied theme of national unity throughout the address. Two examples can be given. As a first consideration, Hoge describes the total character of the ideal statesman, and suggests that this ideal leader is to be best recognized by his service to an entire nation -- not to a narrow interest group or to a local region. Secondly, the minister mentions DavisÕ life in service to the nation as West Point cadet, Mexican War Hero, and United States Senator.

In both his direct and indirect appeals to national reunion, Hoge is effective. On the one hand, he appeals directly to the highly respected American values of fairness and justice. Facing the question of sectionalism squarely, he simply expects the nation to act as though it were reconciled, forcefully telling his audience -- and the North -- that it should be. In the second place, HogeÕs rhetorical appeals to national unity, showing as they do DavisÕ service to the nation, refer to an attitude or opinion that would be hard, if not impossible, for his auditor to reject.

At the same time, in the "western" state of Arkansas, Judge U.M. Rose delivered that state's official memorial oration for President Davis.54 Judge Rose begins his address by discussing the inevitability of death and the difficulty of making valid judgments about a man's life so soon after his death. He declares, "We live too near the thrilling events, the tremendous concussions, the strife, the passion, the crash and the conflict of the period in which [Davis] played a principal part." After continuing in this vein briefly, Rose then says that regardless of what history will write about Davis' actions and his mistakes "he has been made the scapegoat for many sins that should be laid at the doors of others."

After this rather lengthy and rambling introduction, the Judge moves into a long rationalization and justification for the South's entering into secession and civil conflict. He lays the blame for slavery in the South on the Spaniards who first advised that Negroes could be imported and on the "good Puritan brethern of New England [who], with many a prayer and never a misgiving, fitted out their ships for the African coast." He does not believe that slavery was "the direct cause of the war," but he points out that it "had made a very visible line of distinction between Northern and Southern parts of our country." Rose says that the national leaders from the Founding Fathers until the Civil War saw the "unharmonious development of the North and the South," and some -- like Calhoun and Clay -- tried to find answers. Yet underlying it all was the "deeply seated ground for apprehension ... in the fact that no definite remedy had been provided ... if any State ... should attempt, in their sovereign capacity, to withdraw from the Federal Union." He then points out that the Constitution is subject to "a great variety of interpretations," but that coercion of a state is directly counter to the Declaration of Independence. Rose then goes to Southerners -- Jefferson and Jackson -- as well as Northern sources -- Webster and Hamilton -- to substantiate this interpretation. None of these leaders of public opinion felt, according to Rose, that a state could be coerced into remaining within the Union. Concluding this line of thought, Judge Rose points out that the "first threat of secession came from New England during the War of 1812, and not from any part of the South."

Rose justifies his remarks in this vein, which are surely inappropriate to the occasion, observing that if anyone is to judge properly the career of Davis, these are the facts required to understand fully the situation. He says that now "the Union is a perpetual one," but that when Davis was President of the Confederacy, this was not a fact, and was made a part of the fundamental law only "by the final determination of a resort to arms from which there is no appeal." This extended justification for secession does not seem to fit the memorial occasion, since it was a man, not a fact of history, that was being commemorated.

Still not dealing directly with Davis, the eulogist registers an expression of pride that the Civil War was fought. Rose sees the war as having been necessary to settle the issues between North and South. Finally he shifts to reconciliation, praising the North for the "lenity and moderation exhibited by the conquerors in the hour of triumph," which he thinks "is unexampled in history." His praise of the North is honest and forthright, and obviously a well-thought-out statement; in part, he says, "This [the lenity of the North] is a fact that should be borne in mind; for if we would have justice done to ourselves, we must do justice to others." He continues this reconciliatory strain by praising the warriors on both sides for their lofty minds, pure hearts, and undaunted courage.

Approximately one-half of his memorial had dealt with the difficulty of determining the verdict of history, a vindication and justification of the South, praise of those who fought and especially of Northern magniminity, and praise of the war itself. Rose then turns in the last half of the address to a eulogy of Davis. The speaker first presents a brief summary in glowing terms of DavisÕ political and military career. He then discusses how Davis had fared after the defeat of the South and how well Davis had endured all the attacks and the reverses of his ill fortune. Rose praises President Lincoln and Horace Greeley as examples of Northern leaders who had great "magnaminity of feeling" toward Davis and his fallen comrades.

Rose defends Davis against the slurs aimed at him; for example, the charge that he appropriated the funds of the Confederacy for his own use. Yet he speaks only in generalities and does not mention any specific charges. He then defends DavisÕ personality saying, in effect, that for those who knew him well, Davis was kind of heart, genial of disposition, and cheerful of demeanor. He points out that after the Civil War, some of his former Northern comrades in the Black Hawk War visited him in the South, thus expressing their love and devotion to Davis regardless of what time and the war had produced. This example of how the spirit of reunion had been illustrated in a specific case certainly helped to vivify and make real Rose's expression of the spirit of reconciliation.

Judge Rose closes the address with a romantic description of Davis' last year:

How full of memories must his mind have been, as he trod the shores of that southern gulf that broke in harmonious sounds by his secluded home! Perhaps to him, as to many others, that complaining sea, extending far beyond the reach of human vision, containing in its sombre depths so many mysteries forever un-explained, presented the emblem of that wise eternity upon whose echoless shore are hushed all the sounds of human strife. Or perhaps when the tempest spread its black wings over the angry waves, it recalled the stormy scenes in which his life had been so largely spent; and it may be that in the succeeding calm that brooded on the quiet waters he perceived the type of that peace that awaits the tired mariner when the uncertain voyage of life is over.

And finally, Rose observes, "The chieftain, whose strange career is so deeply impressed on the page of history, having received God's great amnesty, has entered upon that last repose which shall never more be disturbed by the voice of praise or blame."

The Arkansan's address on Davis was not as reconciliatory as one might have expected in a state which had felt a strong Union sentiment before and during the war. There was, however, a slight emphasis on reunion by Rose, as some of these quoted remarks demonstrate. Yet Rose was at last able to express an appeal for national harmony, as indicated in the following passage from a Memorial Day address:

The once hostile soldiers whose tombs fair hands will deck with impartial flowers today, rest here upon their arms by the great and silent river of death, with no vestige of human passion or pride to divide them in their unbroken slumber.55

In this eulogy, Rose effectively pictured the reconciliation sentiment as it developed in Davis' own life.


If in the early period of his retirement he sometimes grieved his friends by public expressions that recalled too vividly the bitterness of the past, the feelings of which these were the evidence find no trace in the book in which he recorded his mature judgment of the decisive events in which he played such a prominent part. Reconciled with the irrevocable past, he was able to perceive that our great Civil War had worked out many beneficial results, and that the future might open up to the United American people such an immense field of usefulness and prosperity as would dim even the brightness of their own past.

This process of mellowing apparently happened to many in the post-war South, and, doubtless, Rose's description of how it affected Davis' life helped his auditors believe it could happen to them. Or if it had already happened, his words could serve to reinforce this reconciliatory attitude.

Still other eulogies found a secure place in the literature of the post-war South. One by John W. Daniel of Virginia on the dead Confederate President was a classic and highly reconciliatory.56 In this two-hour oration, Daniel expressed many thoughts on reconciliation. For one, the North and the South are, in truth, "nearly, if not quite, identical," in that both support "racial integrity," they "thirst for power and broad empire," and, among other things, they have a "love of confederated union." In addition, by a skillful juxtaposing of Washington with Hamilton, Jefferson with Adams, and Madison with Franklin, the orator shows that both sections have contributed great leaders for the good of the whole nation. Senator Daniel also stresses the South's role in the Revolutionary War in an attempt to demonstrate the affirmative answer to the rhetorical question, "Did the South love the Union?" A difficult task for a post-war Southerner was to praise Lincoln and call his assassination "a most infamous and unhappy deed." Yet Daniel attempts to do this in his eulogy on Lincoln's former enemy. The "Lame Lion of Lynchburg" includes in his remarks on Davis the following reconciliatory passage which could serve as the model of all similar statements surveyed in this study:

As we are not of the North, but of the South, and are now alike all Americans both of and for the Union, bound up in its destinies, contributing to its support, and seeking its welfare, I feel that as he was the hero in war who fought the bravest, so he is the hero now who puts the past in the truest light, does justice to all and knows no foe but him who revives the hates of a bygone generation.

If we lost by war a southern union of thirteen States, we have yet a common part in a continental union of forty-two, to which our fathers gave their blood, and upon which they shed their blessings, and a people who could survive four years of such experience as we had in 1861-65 can work out their own salvation on any spot on earth that God intended for man's habitation. We are, in fact, in our father's home, and it should be, as it is, our highest aim to develop its magnificent possibilities and make it the happiest dwelling place of the children of men.


Only one month earlier, in Atlanta, John Temple Graves delivered a eulogy on Henry Grady,57 which contains a passage that has lived to the present day. In fact, it is engraved upon the Grady statue in Atlanta as a summation tribute to the Georgia journalist and orator. GravesÕ "gem of oratory" was "received with the wildest outburst of enthusiasm by an audience which packed the opera house from pit to gallery, and at its close the speaker received an ovation which lasted for several minutes."58 This response seems rather inappropriate for a memorial service, but apparently this particular oration prompted this reaction. The sentence that has lived on in stone is at the end of a passage describing Grady's role in the post-war reconciliation process. It begins, "It is marvelous past all telling how he caught the heart of the country in the fervid glow of his own!," and ends, "When he died, he was literally loving a nation into peace."59


As has been pointed out in this survey of the Memorial Day address and the eulogy for departed Americans, this type of speech situation served on these occasions to reinforce Southern feelings about national reconciliation. An editorial writer in the Daily Phoenix of Columbia, South Carolina, stated in 1875 that,

The addresses delivered on the occasion of the late decoration days in the North and portions of the South, exhibited a most fraternal and conciliatory spirit -- one worthy to characterize like commemorations hereafter.60

The Southern memorialist speaker -- at least in these speeches examined here -- attempted to promote intersectional peace. What were his basic themes?

In the first place, he spoke of respect for war. Waddell was the most blatantly enamored by war, but all the speakers left the impression that they saw war as a natural, normal part of the life of man. Second, they all implied that much could be learned from the lives of other men -- that all citizens should study the lives of national heroes and attempt to emulate their virtues and to profit from their mistakes. The student of heroes could see reflected courage, fortitude, integrity, and the leading Southern value -- honor -- in the lives of those being eulogized.

A third theme operative in these speeches was the unanimous positive, optimistic view of the future. All these orators featured forecasts that the coming decades would be years of peace and prosperity with the South once again taking a leading part in shaping the destiny of a great nation.

Closely related, of course, was the fourth basic premise: reconciliation is in the best interest of the South. According to the speakers, the South has and will continue to assist the rest of the nation as America fulfills her destiny. The people of the North respected us for going to war to fight for our principles; they, too, fought for what they believed was right. If it were up to the soldiers, and not the politicians, reconciliation would have occurred in the Spring of 1865. But in spite of political machinations, the Nation is becoming one again.

Curiously juxtaposed with this strong reconciliation spirit, was the aura of vindication which permeated these addresses. To a man, these speakers asserted clearly and strongly that the South was right in her beliefs and that her battles for "constitutional liberty" were all in the best interests of her people and the entire nation. In fact, they asserted that history was already showing the correctness of the Southern position; they never made clear, however, how this process was happening. The speakers urged their listeners to hold fast to their true principles and to always believe that the dead who fell in "The War" did not die in vain.

These speeches honoring the dead -- whether a single figure like Garfield or Grant or the mass of Southern war dead -- all served to unify the diverse feelings within a local community and to focus attention upon a common goal: national harmony. W. Lloyd Warner writes that "the ceremonial calendar of American society" is designed through Memorial Day, the Fourth of July, Thanksgiving and other days, to "allow Americans to express common sentiments about themselves and share their feelings with others on set days pre-established by the society for this very purpose." He accurately describes the purpose of Memorial Day and by implication, the Memorial Address, when he writes that this ceremonial calendar "functions to draw all people together to emphasize their similarities and common heritage; to minimize their differences; and to contribute to their thinking, feeling, and acting alike"(italics mine).61

Since these ceremonial days are designed, partly at least, for unification of a community, the speaker selected for that occasion would be most concerned to chose his topic and purpose for speaking with the aim of unity foremost in his mind. He would not be expected to be radically controversial, but, rather to speak about themes and topics to reinforce the beliefs the audience already had. His purpose would be to intensify belief; he probably would not try to create a new and possibly controversial cluster of opinions.

In these speeches surveyed in this chapter, the speakers were attempting to intensify belief in the need for and value of national harmony. By relating the facts that the South had made significant contributions to the nation and that it would continue to do so, the speakers were able to encourage their auditors to feel that reunion was desirable. In addition, the speakers asserted over and over that the nation was one again -- that sectionalism was dead. By the power of repetition, this belief was intensified, but the speakers failed to really make this assertion come alive by clear and vivid examples of where this act of reunion had occurred. Only in a few cases did a speaker give a specific example of an act of reconciliation. This lack of intense vivification through example was a major rhetorical weakness; the speakers too often spoke in vague and generalized terms to be as effective as possible in their attempts to reinforce belief. In terms of the basic premises expressed, these speakers all met well the demands of their situations, for all of the basic themes mentioned earlier were already held by the audiences they faced. In terms, however, of support for those premises, these speakers, with a few exceptions, fell short of what their hearers needed for as full intensification as was possible.

John Temple Graves well stated the major reconciliatory thrust of these speeches: "So while we love our dead and revere our trampled principles, we must not forget that we have yet a life to live, a part to play in our nation's history."62 The six speakers surveyed in this chapter did what they could to make the defeated South reconcile herself to the North. The next chapter will deal with those memorial speakers who addressed ceremonies devoted to dedicating monuments to the Confederate dead.

































1 Paul S. Buck, The Road to Reunion, 1865-1900 (New York: Random House, 1937), p. 120.


2 I. W. Avery, The History of the State of Georgia from 1850 to 1881 (New York: Brown and Derby, 1881), p. 715.

3 Buck, Road to Reunion, p. 121.

4 "Shall Memorial Day Be Changed?", Editorial, Atlanta Constitution (Atlanta, Georgia), April 22, 1887, p. 4.

5 Letter to the Editor, ibid., April 26, 1887, p. 4.


6 "Suggested by the Day," Editorial, ibid.

7 Confederate Memorial Day is still being observed at various places in the South. See, for example, the Pensacola (Florida) News Journal, April 27, 1969, for a brief description of the 1969 observance of the event in that northwest Florida City. See also Herbert F. Birdsey, "Rose Hill Cemetery -- Macon, Georgia, April 26,1866 -- April 26, 1966" The Georgia Review, XXI (Fall, 1967), 370-72.


8 Thomas D. Clark and Albert D. Kirwan, The South Since Appomattox, A Century of Regional Change (New York: Oxford University Press, 1967), p. 51.


9 "Memorial Day," Editorial, News and Observer (Raleigh, North Carolina), May 10,1887. In her delightful description of Decoration Day, Margaret Inman Meaders expresses how some in the South needed this celebration: "The defeated have left to them only the transforming of grief into glory. Losses can be endured only when wreathed in laurel. Memories must march to drums; and fears, be beaten down by fifes. Pride must be reborn before its earlier death can be admitted." "Postscript to Appomattox: My Grandpa and Decoration Day," The Georgia Review, XXIV (Fall, 1970), 298-99.


10 John Temple Graves, "Memorial Address," Delivered at West Point, Georgia, April 26, 1876. Text from an undated, newspaper clipping in John Temple Graves Scrapbook, The South Caroliniana Library, University of South Carolina.


11 Graves, "Union Decoration Day Speech," delivered at Jacksonville, Florida, May 30, 1885. Text from an undated, unknown newspaper clipping in ibid.


12 Atlanta Constitution, October 16, 1890. Clipping in ibid.

13 "John Temple Graves," in Lucian Lamar Knight, A Standard History of Georgia and Georgians, Vol. VI (Chicago: Lewis Publishing Company, 1917), p. 2873.

14 The only text found for the La Grange oration is a badly mutilated copy of a newspaper clipping from which is missing a large portion of the speech. Therefore, only the earlier West Point address will be examined. All quotations from the speech are from the text in Graves Scrapbook.


15 In the newspaper text found in the Graves Scrapbook, "Constitutional Liberty" has been capitalized and set off by hand in ink with quotation marks; presumably Graves himself did this.


16 All quotations are from the text in Graves Scrapbook.

17 Woodward writes that in 1877, the North not only withdrew the remaining Federal troops, they also abandoned the Negro as "a ward of the nation," gave up trying to guarantee his civil equality, and acquiesced in "the South's demand that the whole problem be left to the disposition of the dominant Southern white people." The Strange Career of Jim Crow, 2nd Rev. Ed. (London: Oxford University Press, 1966), p. 6.


18 Newbernian (New Bern, North Carolina), May 17,1879.

19 Alfred Moore Waddell, "Memorial Day Address," delivered at New Bern, North Carolina, May 9, 1879. Text from an undated, unknown newspaper clipping in Waddell's Papers, Southern Historical Collection, The University of North Carolina Library, Chapel Hill.

20 A. R. Newsome, "Alfred Moore Waddell," Dictionary of American Biography, XIX, edited by Dumas Malone (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1936), p. 300.

21 Newbernian, May 17,1879.

22 Ibid.


23 All the quotations used here are from the newspaper text in Waddell's Papers.

24 Some historians have argued, however, that the post-war South accepted a "humbler position in the government of the nation than the Old South would have been content to accept." They cite as evidence the fact that from 1865 to 1968 the South furnished only 14 of 133 cabinet members and only 7 of 31 Supreme Court Justices. Clark and Kirwan, South Since Appomattox, p. 52.

25 Richard M. Weaver, The Southern Tradition at Bay, A History of Postbellum Thought, edited by George Core and M. E. Bradford (New York: Arlington House, 1968), p. 117-8.

26 "Memorial Day," Daily Chronicle and Sentinel (Augusta, Georgia), April 25, 1875. Women in the South have continued to be in the vanguard of efforts to praise, recapture, and relive the past. A contemporary example is the mid-twentieth century historical preservation movement which has perhaps reached its apex in Savannah, Georgia. As a 1971 article points out, "Women, in fact, have been a driving force behind Savannah's renaissance. As a young male restorationist notes: 'They aren't twittering old ladies in tennis shoes. They use their brains, they work and they've got clout.'" "Saving Savannah," Life, May 7, 1971, p. 58.

27 Clement Eaton, The Waning of the Old South Civilization, 1860-1880's, Mercer University Lamar Memorial Lectures, No. 10 (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 1968), p. 117.


28 Right Reverend W. B. W. Howe, Address on the Death of President Garfield (Charleston, South Carolina: The News and Courier Book Presses, 1881). All the quotations from this speech are from this published copy found at the University of South Carolina Library.


29 "GarfieldÕs Death," The News and Courier (Charleston, South Carolina), September 27, 1881.

30 Albert Sidney Thomas, A Historical Account of the Protestant Episcopal Church in South Carolina, 1820-1957 (Columbia: R.L. Bryan, 1957), p. 84. For a full explanation of this struggle, see Thomas, pp. 88-100.


31 Atticus G. Haygood, "Garfield's Memory," Text found in Haygood's Papers, Emory University Library, Atlanta, Georgia. All quotations are from this copy. Italics supplied.


32 Harold W. Mann, Atticus Greene Haygood (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 1965), p. 110.

33 Ibid., pp. 94-5.

34 Ibid., pp. 100-101.


35 Ibid., p. 102.


36 Ibid., p. 19.


37 This account of Southern services for General Grant is from The Daily Register (Columbia, South Carolina), August 9, 1885, p. 1.


38 Ibid.

39 "Services for Grant," Sunday Times (Chattanooga, Tennessee), August 9, 1885, p. 1.


40 Daily Register.


41 Sunday Times.

42 Ibid.

43 Ibid.

44 David M. Key, "Memorial to General Grant," in ibid. All the quotations from this speech have been taken from this source.

45 Eaton, Waning of Old South, p. 119.

46 Reverend Moses D. Hoge, "Address on Jefferson Davis," delivered in Richmond, Virginia, December 11, 1889. Text of speech printed in The Central Presbyterian-Supplement N.D., N.P. Copy in Alderman Library, University of Virginia, Charlottesville.

47 U.M. Rose, "Memorial Address on the Life, Character and Public Services of Jefferson Davis," delivered in Little Rock, Arkansas, December 13, 1889. Text in U.M. Rose, Addresses of U.M. Rose, With a Brief Memoir by George B. Rose. Ed. by George B. Rose (Chicago: George I. Jones, 1914).

48 Joseph D. Eggleston, "Moses Drury Hoge," Dictionary of American Biography, IX, Ed. by Dumas Malone (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1932), p. 121.

49 The Central Presbyterian-Supplement.

50  Eggleston, "Hoge,", pp. 121-22.


51 Ibid., p. 121. HogeÕs war record included serving as Chaplain at Richmond where he preached to the Confederate soldiers at least twice a week. In addition, and more spectacularly, he ran the Union blockade from Charleston to go to England for Bibles and other religious books for the Southern soldier. His mission was successful for he brought back 10,000 Bibles, 50,000 Testaments, and 250,000 printed portions of the Scriptures.


52 Pericles. "Funeral Oration." Thucydides: The History of the Peloponnesian War, translated by Richard Crawley. The Great Books of the Western World, VI (Chicago: The University of Chicago, 1956), p. 396.

53 Walter W. Moore, "Moses Drury Hoge," Library of Southern Literature, VI, edited by Edwin A. Alderman (Atlanta, Georgia: Martin and Hoyt, 1910), p. 2438.


54 Rose, "Address on Davis." All quotations are from the text cited in Rose, Addresses.

55 Rose, "Confederate Dead," N.D., N.P., Anthologized in Rose, Addresses.

56 John W. Daniel, Oration on the Life, Services and Character of Jefferson Davis. Delivered in Richmond, Virginia, January 15, 1890. (Richmond: J.H. O'Bannon, 1890).

57 John Temple Graves, "Eulogy of Henry W. Grady." Delivered in Atlanta, Georgia, December 28, 1890. In Knight, A Standard History of Georgia and Georgians, III. pp.1608-11.

58 Ibid., p. 1608.


59 Ibid., p. 1609.

60 The Daily Phoenix (Columbia, S.C.), June 5,1875.

61 W. Lloyd Warner, American Life, Dream and Reality (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1953), p. 2. The importance of Memorial Day, historically and in the mid-twentieth century, is described by Conrad Cherry in "Two American Sacred Ceremonies: Their Implications for the Study of Religion in America," American Quarterly,XXI (Winter, 1969), 739-754. Cherry sums up the ceremony as "an American sacred ceremony, a religious ritual, a modern cult of the dead." 741.

62 Graves, "Memorial Address," West Point, Georgia, April 26, 1876.