Читать книгу The Story of my Life - Clarence Darrow - Страница 13

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It was at the national Democratic convention of 1896 that I first met William Jennings Bryan. He was then a young man thirty-six years old. At that time I was thirty-nine. For several years the country had, as usual, been suffering a financial depression, especially throughout the West and South. The two political parties were torn to pieces by new issues that were real. Up to that time the old question of slavery, secession and the Civil War was still powerful in the division of the two parties. But now both of them seemed to be dissolving as new questions forced themselves to the front. Throughout the West the low price of grain had given birth to the Granger movement. Its chief demand was for the free coinage of silver at the old ratio of 16 to 1.

The Western States and all their population were burdened with debt, and the price of land had slumped with all the products of the farm. Bonds and mortgages had been issued when both gold and silver were legal tender. The indebtedness of the West was held and controlled throughout the East. Every one then believed that the value of money was determined by the amount in circulation. It therefore followed that the demonetization of silver had increased the value of gold and correspondingly lowered the price of grain and farm and wages, and, in short, every commodity that was bought and sold in the market. Likewise the real value of bonds had substantially doubled because the obligations could no longer be paid in gold and silver, but must be paid in gold alone. It was one more great manifestation of the cleavage between the rich and poor. Many of the Western States that had continually been Republican, due to the issues growing out of the Civil War, were now in the political control of the Populist and Democratic parties.

When the forces were forming for the contest of 1896 it became clear that the lines were to be drawn on the restoration of the coinage of silver. The Republican convention met in St. Louis and nominated William McKinley for President. Up to this time McKinley had been an ardent advocate of the free coinage of silver. But he did not propose to let a question of this sort stand between him and the Presidency of the United States. The Republican party declared against the free coinage of silver, so McKinley at once advocated the single standard. Immediately upon the adoption of that platform in the Republican convention, the senators and congressmen of most of the States west of the Mississippi River bolted the convention and turned to the Democratic party. Grover Cleveland was then President of the United States, serving his second term. He was a Democrat, but from New York State, and was bitterly opposed to the free coinage of silver.

Not only had I been steadily aligned with the Democratic party, but my sympathies were with the common man. I was for the debtor rather than the creditor. John P. Altgeld, then governor of Illinois and running for a second term, headed the Illinois delegation.

Mr. Bryan had been twice elected to Congress from Nebraska. This in spite of the fact that Nebraska had long been a Republican State. Mr. Bryan was elected as a bimetallist, and although only thirty-two years old, had distinguished himself in Congress. In the convention of 1896, Governor Altgeld was probably the strongest man. Altgeld was never an easy or fluent speaker; yet he overcame his difficulties and spoke effectively. He was a good student, a good thinker, and an honest, fearless man. He was essentially a man of action, yet he wrote convincingly. He was the first person of any prominence that I had met after coming to Chicago, and after that he had always been my friend, and later was my partner for several months up to the time of his death.

Governor Altgeld made what was, in fact, the keynote speech of the convention. It was vigorous and straightforward. He not only was for the free coinage of silver, but for a political revolution. He declared strongly against the issuance of injunctions by the courts in labor cases, which he dubbed "government by injunction." Altgeld was always bold, aggressive, and radical. I had a seat on the platform near the speakers, where I could hear every word.

William Jennings Bryan entered the convention at the head of a contesting delegation from Nebraska. The gold forces, under the lead of J. Sterling Morton, had made a strong fight for the delegation. Mr. Morton was a man of fine intelligence, an independent mind, and a good student of economics. He had for years been connected with the Chicago, Burlington and Quincy Railroad, and was for a gold standard and free trade. Mr. Morton's faction had secured the credentials as the regular delegates from Nebraska. Whether they were elected I will not discuss, for I know nothing about that, and, like most of the delegates at that convention, I did not care. I was for the free-silver faction--not so much because I had any great confidence in its importance, but because it represented the disinherited, who had come to command my sympathy and my help.

When Mr. Bryan came to the Chicago convention in 1896 he was little known, outside Nebraska. He had gained some distinction in Congress, but was a young man and not a national figure. Without a doubt he came to the convention expecting to be nominated for President, but no one else thought of him as such a possibility.

The Committee on Credentials rejected the claim of Bryan and his delegation. He carried the contest to the convention, and took the platform to present his claim. In a few moments he had the attention of the great audience of twenty or twenty-five thousand that crowded the hall. He had a strong voice, well adapted to a large assemblage. He had complete control of himself and knew just what he wanted to say. Doubtless he had gone over it many times in his home on the prairies of Nebraska. Then, and always, he was a master of technique; he knew exactly how to hold an audience in the hollow of his hand, as it were. His voice, his personality, his knowledge of mob psychology, his aptness for forming rhythmical sentences left him without a rival in the field.

Platforms are not the proper forums for spreading doubts. The miscellaneous audience wants to listen to a man who knows. How he knows is of no concern to them. Such an audience wishes to be told, and especially wants to be told what it already believes. Mr. Bryan told the Democratic convention of 1896 in Chicago what he believed. Not only did he tell them that, but he told them what they believed, and what they wanted to believe, and wished to have come true. I have enjoyed a great many addresses, some of which I have delivered myself, but I never listened to one that affected and moved an audience as did that. Men and women cheered and laughed and cried. They listened with desires and hopes, and finally with absolute confidence and trust. Here was a political Messiah who was to lift the burdens that the oppressed had borne so long. When he had finished his speech, amidst the greatest ovation that I had ever witnessed, there was no longer any doubt as to the name of the nominee. Mr. Bryan was nominated for President; but he did not get the votes of the gold Democrats from the East, and he did not get the vote of the truest and bravest of them all, John P. Altgeld. This was not because he wanted the nomination himself; he was born in Germany, and was not eligible for the Presidency of the United States. I sat close to Mr. Altgeld while Mr. Bryan made his speech. He did not applaud, or shout, or throw his hat into the air. He listened to every word. His sad blue eyes seemed to look beyond the convention hall upon the cities and fields and prairies, and backwards through history that has recorded the vain struggles of man, and forward into the unopened book of the future, shut fast in the hands of Fate and shadowed with the cruelty, injustice, and tyranny of the past. The next day I was with him, and we discussed the convention, and Mr. Bryan's speech. He turned to me with his weary face and quizzical smile and said, "It takes more than speeches to win real victories. Applause lasts but a little while. The road to justice is not a path of glory; it is stony and long and lonely, filled with pain and martyrdom." He added, "I have been thinking over Bryan's speech. What did he say, anyhow?"

Governor Altgeld was then a candidate for governor for a second term; he was anxious for me to run for Congress, and I was offered the nomination. I reluctantly agreed to take it. The district was overwhelmingly Democratic, and I felt sure that with Bryan for President and Altgeld for governor there would be no doubt of my election. The Republican candidate was a clerk in a railroad office who had never taken any interest in politics and was not known outside his small circle of friends. I gave most of my time to speaking during the campaign, but gave no attention to my district; there I made no addresses and solicited no votes. I felt sure of my election; I knew that the whole ticket would follow the vote of Bryan and Altgeld, who, of course, were the leading figures in the Illinois campaign. As the weeks wore on, it became obvious that the Republicans were conspiring and using money as never before. But no one questioned my election. I knew that if I was not elected no other Democrat would be, in that section of Illinois.

In the last days of the campaign an enormous fund was raised and spent in the centres of population, including Chicago. Within two days many of the Democratic leaders were reached and the organization disrupted. As a consequence, Chicago and Illinois went overwhelmingly for McKinley. When the returns were counted I found that both Bryan and Altgeld had lost my district and the whole ticket was defeated. My opponent was elected by about one hundred votes. Even one day in my district amongst my friends would have assured my election, but I cared too little for the position and felt too sure. So I gave all of my time to what seemed doubtful States.

I really felt relief when I learned of my defeat. I did not want to be in political life. I realized what sacrifices of independence went with office-seeking, and in every way felt that I could not afford to go to Congress. So I turned my attention exclusively to law.

For the next few years I was constantly in court, trying all sorts of cases that fall to the general practitioner, including many labor cases, both civil and criminal, and representing the unions in a number of arbitrations, a line of work that appealed to my emotions and ideas, and that was full of interest and color. Governor Altgeld came back to Chicago, but for a time took no personal interest in political affairs.

I often wonder what would have happened to me had I gone to Congress. Perhaps I would have spent the rest of my life in the pursuit of political place and power, and would have surrendered my convictions for a political career. I never gave up my interest in the affairs of government, but always acted independently of party ties or affiliations. Through it all I have urged young men to pursue the same course, without being sure which way is best. This can be determined by only the strongest emotions that move the individual and by what, for lack of a better term, we call chance and fate, or fatality.

Mr. Bryan carried most of the States west of the Mississippi River, and the solid South. He received more votes than McKinley. He placed himself at the head of the Democratic party, and for many years thereafter wrote the political platform and dictated the candidate. The candidate was generally himself. On the whole, during most of his career he remained true to the cause of the people, as he understood political and social questions. But his vision was narrow. He was much more certain of the correctness of his views than a student or scholar can possibly be. He never cared to read, much less study; he knew, without investigation or thought. To him, the most insignificant affairs of life were controlled by Providence, and he was sure that he had been chosen for a special work. No matter how often he was beaten, he had the same confidence that the Lord was on his side.

In the Spanish-American War, Bryan raised a regiment of soldiers in Nebraska, and, of course, placed himself at its head, received the title of Colonel, and marched blithely off to fight the Spaniards on the question of their dominion over Cuba. At the same time he jumped from Chautauqua to Chautauqua and lectured to immense audiences on "The Prince of Peace." Perhaps he saw no inconsistencies in these activities; but in this he was not unlike many others. I have never found any one who could not explain and justify conflicting attitudes, if he wanted to act in various ways.

In the meantime we defeated the Spaniards, and, incidentally, captured the Philippine Islands. In 1900 Bryan was again nominated for the Presidency, and made the campaign on the issue of giving the Philippines their independence. I thoroughly believed as he did, and gave my best endeavor to help him win; but he was defeated by a larger majority than before. In 1904 he was not nominated, but in 1908 he again turned the Democratic party to him. Evidently he had then determined to ignore dangerous problems, and applied his attention to a fight to require government guarantee of bank deposits, and the election of United States senators by direct vote of the people. His committee gave most of its time to handing out a little pamphlet containing his Chautauqua address, entitled "The Prince of Peace." This he considered was a strong document, especially in view of the fact that his opponent, Judge Taft, was a Unitarian.

Shortly before the campaign was opened Mr. Bryan came to Chicago. He asked me to meet him at his hotel, and, of course, I obeyed the summons. He said he hoped I would do some speaking for the ticket in the campaign. I asked him what he wanted me to talk about. He replied, "The guaranteeing of bank deposits by the government." I answered that my trouble had always been in getting money into the bank and not in checking it out. He then suggested, "The election of United States senators by direct vote," to which I replied that so long as we have senators it made little difference to me how they were elected.

That year I took a vacation instead of making campaign speeches. I felt that I had followed Bryan long enough. But it seemed to have been decreed that I was to see him once more, which came about in a rather strange manner in 1923.