Books: Peculiar

BRYAN—THE GREAT COMMONER—J. C. Long—Appleton ($3.50).

The Man. “A cross between St. George and Don Quixote”—one might add P. Y. Barnum to Author Long’s analysis, and so justify Asquith in diagnosing Bryan as “a peculiar product of your country.” If by peculiar he meant curious, there are those in this country who would agree; if, which is more likely, he meant typical, there are those who would cavil. Not so Author Long, who writes a sympathetic though by no means fanatic account of the loves and hates, works and troubles, of the peculiar product.

Bryan moved from Illinois to Nebraska intending to practice law and steer clear of politics, but “he could no more keep out of politics than the Old Soak could pass the swinging door.” Elected to Congress at the age of 30, he was immediately conspicuous for his violent eloquence. Six years later (1896) he, a shrewd politician, achieved the Democratic nomination after the famous “Cross-of-Gold” speech in which he canonized free silver.

Such was the fame of his eloquence that he gave up the law for the bigger Chatau-qua money. Incessantly he spoke on the small tradesman and farmer, and wrote about them in The Commoner, weekly journal of one man’s opinion, which endured through 22 years in spite of its spotty journalism and shortage of advertisements. For on principle Bryan refused to accept advertising of trust-made goods, though his sheet “reeked with patent medicine advertising.” Indifferent to his meagre advertising columns, he reveled in belaboring the Republicans for their sins, championed religious freedom (the Dayton trial was 22 years later), applauded T. R.’s trustbusting, deplored his inviting Booker T. Washington to dine.

Bored, he traveled abroad. In England he studied oratory, and municipal ownership. In Russia he communed with Tolstoy, and also lectured the handsome young Tsar on free speech. In Japan he took a bath which fascinated a large audience. In six countries he observed government ownership of railroads—another unpopular cause which he promptly championed upon his return to America.

He was a third time defeated in presidential campaign. Then turning rabidly on wetness, bulwark of the Democratic platform, he made straight the way for the 18th amendment. In 1912 he dominated yet another convention, in spite of furious yells: “I will give $25,000 to anyone who will kill him!”, and “Why doesn’t somebody hang him?” Bryan’s part in the

Wilson victory was rewarded with the highest Cabinet post. The reward bristled with trouble. His first struggle secured government rather than banker control of the Federal Reserve. Then, as Prince of Peace, he effected anti-war pacts with 30 nations, but his Tolstoian principles were put severely to the test by the Mexican situation, by the California-Japan dispute over property ownership, and finally by the Great War. His influence over Wilson was early supplanted by Colonel House, who pulled strings, machinated quietly, buzzed around in one department after the other.

When the administration failed to deal as severely with British violation of the blockade laws as with German submarine violations, Bryan resigned his post.

The Significance. Bryan’s last years, notorious for fanatic championship of “fundamentalism” as opposed to “modern ism” and evolution, Author Long explains ruefully as post-War hysteria in line with Lusk laws and Bolshevist scares. A better explanation lies in his entire exposition of Bryan, the fiery champion of so many other lost causes. For years Bryan dominated his party, but his repugnance for letting embarrassing political problems alone, combined with the disconcerting violence of his sincerity, bore him time after time to defeat.

The Author. Reporter and editorial writer at various times for various papers including the Christian Science Monitor, Author Long now contributes to periodicals as diverse as The New Yorker, and Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Science.