William Jennings Bryan. Harvey Ellsworth Newbranch
to every citizen of the Republic and a monument to the uplifting force of right living and high ideals. For it tells that even in the politics of to-day, honeycombed with cant, hypocrisy, and insincerity, absolute honesty of motive and candor of statement is still no bar to the truest leadership and the highest advancement. It tells further of the marvelous opportunities of humble American citizenship, demonstrating once more, as in Abraham Lincoln’s time, that to the man of conscience, brains, and courage, the highest walks of life are open; to which neither poverty nor obscurity is a bar. And finally it tells of the great potential power of the idea, unaided and even bitterly opposed, when forcefully and sincerely stated, to win its way to the hearts of humankind.
And so it is that to such as will honestly study William Jennings Bryan’s career, and learn the lesson that it teaches, must come hope and inspiration and promise of the dawn. For whether he ever hold high political office or not; whether or not, in the crucible of time, his political faith prove true or prove fallacious; his life still teaches that courage and plain honesty may win for a public man such following and support, such exalted place in the hearts of his countrymen, as has never yet rewarded the tricks and wiles of even the most brilliant of opportunists.
EARLY LIFE
William Bryan, the great-grandfather of the presidential nominee, the first of the Bryans known to the present generation, lived in Culpepper county, Va. In his family there were three children. One of these, John Bryan, was the grandfather of William Jennings Bryan. In 1807 John married Nancy Lillard. To this couple ten children were born. One of these was Silas L. Bryan, the father of William Jennings Bryan.
He was born in Sperryville, Culpepper county, Va., in 1822. In 1834 he came west, working his way through the public schools, finally entering McKendree College, at Lebanon, Ill., and graduating with honors in 1849. After graduating, he studied law, was admitted to the bar, and began his practice in Salem, Marion county, Ill. In 1852 he was married to Mariah Elizabeth Jennings. In 1860, he was elected to the circuit bench, where he served twelve years. In 1872 he was nominated for Congress on the Democratic ticket, receiving the endorsement of the Greenback party. He died March 30, 1880, and was buried in the cemetery of his much beloved town, Salem.
The union of Silas Bryan and Mariah Jennings was blessed on March 19, 1860, by the birth of William Jennings Bryan, twice the Democratic nominee for President of the United States.
When William Jennings Bryan was six years old, his parents moved to their farm in the vicinity of Salem. Until he was ten years of age his parents taught him at home, hoping thus to mould his young mind to better advantage. At ten years of age William entered the public schools of Salem. There he attended until he was fifteen, when he entered Whipple Academy, Jacksonville, Ill., in the fall of 1875. Two years later he entered Illinois College, and with this step a new life began.
His parents wished him to take a classical course with its Latin, Greek, mathematics, and geometry. This he did. He was, too, an earnest student of political economy. During his first year at the Academy, he delivered Patrick Henry’s masterpiece, and was ranked well down toward the “foot.” Again in the second year, nothing daunted by his failure to be at the “head,” he selected “The Palmetto and the Pine” as his subject. This time he was third, with a large number following. Later in his second year he delivered “Bernado del Carpio” and gained second prize. In his sophomore and junior years, his essays upon “Labor” and “Individual Powers” were each awarded first prize. The winning of the junior prize entitled him to represent Illinois College in the intercollegiate oratorical contest, which was held at Galesburg, Ill., in the fall of 1880. His oration was upon “Justice,” which received the second prize of fifty dollars. At the time of graduation, he was elected class orator, and delivered the valedictory.
It was here, in his junior year that he first met his wife, Miss Mary Baird, of Perry, Ill., and she, speaking of her first impression, says, “I saw him first in the parlors of the young ladies’ school which I attended in Jacksonville. He entered the room with several other students, was taller than the rest, and attracted my attention at once. His face was pale and thin; a pair of keen, dark eyes looked out from beneath heavy eyebrows; his nose was prominent—too large to look well, I thought; a broad, thin-lipped mouth and a square chin completed the contour of his face. I noted particularly his hair and smile. The former, black in color, fine in quality, and parted distressingly straight. In later years his smile has been the subject of considerable comment. Upon one occasion a heartless observer was heard to remark, ‘That man can whisper in his own ear,’ but this was cruel exaggeration.”
The graduating exercises of Illinois College were in June, 1881. The valedictory is given below, not because it possesses great merit, but in order to show his style and the turn of his mind at the time.
“Beloved instructors, it is character not less than intellect that you have striven to develop. As we stand at the end of our college course, and turn our eyes toward the scenes forever past, as our memories linger on the words of wisdom which have fallen from your lips, we are more and more deeply impressed with the true conception of duty which you have ever shown. You have sought not to trim the lamp of genius until the light of morality is paled by its dazzling brilliance, but to encourage and strengthen both. These days are over. No longer shall we listen to your warning voices, no more meet you in these familiar classrooms, yet on our hearts ‘deeply has sunk the lesson’ you have given, and it shall not soon depart.
“We thank you for your kind and watchful care, and shall ever cherish your teachings with that devotion which sincere gratitude inspires.
“It is fitting that we express to you also, honored trustees, our gratitude for the privileges which you have permitted us to enjoy.
“The name of the institution whose interest you guard will ever be dear to us as the schoolroom, to whose influence we shall trace whatever success coming years may bring.
“Dear classmates, my lips refuse to bid you a last good-bye; we have so long been joined together in a community of aims and interests; so often met and mingled our thoughts in confidential friendship; so often planned and worked together, that it seems like rending asunder the very tissues of a heart to separate us now.
“But this long and happy association is at an end, and now as we go forth in sorrow, as each one must, to begin alone the work which lies before us, let us encourage each other with strengthening words.
“Success is brought by continued labor and continued watchfulness. We must struggle on, not for one moment hesitate, nor take one backward step; for in the language of the poet:
MRS. BRYAN
‘The gates of hell are open night and day,
Smooth the descent and easy is the way;
But to return and view the cheerful skies,
In this, the past and mighty labor lies.’
We launch our vessels upon the uncertain sea of life alone, yet not alone, for around us are friends who anxiously and prayerfully watch our course. They will rejoice if we arrive safely at our respective havens, or weep with bitter tears if, one by one, our weather-beaten barks are lost forever in the surges of the deep.
“We have esteemed each other, loved each other, and now must with each other part. God grant that we may all so live as to meet in the better world, where parting is unknown.
“Halls of learning, fond Alma Mater, farewell. We turn to take our ‘last, long, lingering look’ at the receding walls. We leave thee now to be ushered out into the varied duties of an active life.
“However high our names may be inscribed upon the gilded scroll of fame, to thee we all the honor give, to thee all the praises bring. And when, in after years, we’re wearied by the bustle of the busy world, our hearts will often long to turn and seek repose beneath thy sheltering shade.”
In