‘Cross of Gold’
speech
Speaker: William
Jennings Bryan
Recorded: 1921
9:32
William Jennings Bryan was known as “The Great Commoner,”
but it is more apt to think of him as America’s first great demagogue. He was
the ultimate orator, with a booming voice, expressive body, and a mellifluous
approach to speechwriting that swept listeners into a rapt state, and sometimes
rapture itself. He could command a crowd, but not the electorate — he ran for
president three times, and lost each time.
Fate deigned to make him an early success. At the
politically young age of 36, he reached his zenith in the American consciousness
on July 9, 1896 at the Democratic convention in Chicago — his celebrated “Cross
of Gold” speech.
Robert Cherny’s essay on the speech is invaluable
for making clear the then-burning issue of the “gold standard” versus the “free
silver” factions in U.S. politics. In essence, big business and the moneyed
interests, what Teddy Roosevelt was soon to term “the trusts,” preferred the
low prices caused by accepting only gold as legal tender. Meanwhile, the
farmers of the country, still a substantial majority, wanted the coinage of
silver in order to ease the debts they could not pay due to lower prices for their
goods.
“The Boy Orator of the Platte” was a champion of the people
(something disputed by historians such as Irving Stone, who considered him a
fatuous blowhard). Devoutly religious, he had a Messianic sense about him that
was quite compelling. The Democratic Convention was made for his purposes.
The speech itself was a mishmash of invective, sentiment,
and rhetoric, much of it audience-tested in prior speeches for maximum effect. “The
humblest citizen in the land when clad in the armor of a righteous cause is
stronger than all the whole hosts of error that they can bring. I come to speak
to you in defense of a cause as holy as the cause of liberty — the cause of
humanity.” He excoriated the “Atlantic coast” (aka big business) and apotheosized
the common man —
“Ah. my friends,
we say not one word against those who live upon the Atlantic Coast; but those
hardy pioneers who braved all the dangers of the wilderness, who have made the
desert to blossom as the rose—those pioneers away out there, rearing their
children near to nature’s heart, where they can mingle their voices with the
voices of the birds—out there where they have erected schoolhouses for the
education of their children and churches where they praise their Creator, and
the cemeteries where sleep the ashes of their dead—are as deserving of the
consideration of this party as any people in this country.
“It is for these
that we speak. We do not come as aggressors. Our war is not a war of conquest.
We are fighting in the defense of our homes, our families, and posterity. We
have petitioned, and our petitions have been scorned. We have entreated, and
our entreaties have been disregarded. We have begged, and they have mocked when
our calamity came.
“We beg no longer;
we entreat no more; we petition no more. We defy them!”
He aligned himself with populism, that great uprising at the
end of the 19th century that pitted the farmers and the labor
movement against bank, railroads, monopolies, and the bigwigs of high finance. This
progressive and socially responsible outline of action would be co-opted by the
major parties and become a significant thread in American political thinking.
“There are two
ideas of government. There are those who believe that if you just legislate to
make the well-to-do prosperous, that their prosperity will leak through on
those below. The Democratic idea has been that if you legislate to make the masses
prosperous their prosperity will find its way up and through every class that
rests upon it.
“You come to us
and tell us that the great cities are in favor of the gold standard. I tell you
that the great cities rest upon these broad and fertile prairies. Burn down
your cities and leave our farms, and your cities will spring up again as if by
magic. But destroy our farms and the grass will grow in the streets of every
city in the country.”
Finally, Bryan
wound up with a killer finish. Gesturing dramatically, he concluded with, “. .
. you shall not press down upon the brow of labor this crown of thorns. You
shall not crucify mankind upon a cross of gold.”
The convention went wild, applauding and parading Bryan on their
shoulders for 25 minutes. “The Silver Knight of the West” won his party’s
nomination, but lost to McKinley.
Bryan was a large political figure, but never an effective
leader. He was a great candidate (he invented the election strategy of
canvassing the country, speechmaking incessantly as he went to rally his
supporters) but he was destined to be an ever-more-marginal player. Finally, he
wound up as a kind of “fundamentalist pope” (according to H.L. Mencken) who
fought the teaching of science in schools, most notably in connection with the
Scopes trial of 1925.
Still, he articulated the feelings of a large mass of the
American public. More than that, he worked a kind of rhetorical magic. In the
days before media’s rise (in fact, this recording is a 1921 recreation by Bryan
of his epic speech), the compelling individual had to prove their mettle live,
in public, in front of hundreds or thousands. This kind of magnetism can only
be hinted at in Bryan’s recorded commemoration.
The National Recording Registry Project tracks one
writer’s expedition through all the recordings in the National Recording
Registry in chronological order. Up next: Fanny Brice sings ‘My Man/Second Hand Rose.’
