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About The commoner. (Lincoln, Neb.) 1901-1923 | View Entire Issue (July 19, 1912)
r ' -y- - JULY lf9V 1912 The Commoner. h : ' - ja .A . -. '. ? i'ii-'j'- A Young Lad's Tribute Paul Northrup, a: young Lincoln lad , gradu ated recently at the Nebraska Military Academy, a Bplendid school for boys, under the manage ment of Colonel William J. Hayward, famous throughout the west as an educator and a boy trainer. Young Northup delivered the vale dictory oration. Choosing Mr. Bryan as his sub ject he selected "An Inspired Fanaticv as his text. Because this tribute came from 'the open heart of a frank boy, Commoner1 readers will bo interested in it and at tho request of-a num ber of Mr. Bryan's Lincoln friends; It is printed in full. Hero it Is?' Education is a' necessity. The broadest cul ture, is demanded of the twentieth 'century American citizen.' If one were merely 'to read some fiction-coated travelogues, or td glance Idly through a Baedeker, one would be readily of the opinion that travel is the height of hnp piness to those who are possessed of the means wherewith to enjoy it., Yet every true American citizen returns from touring across the sea with the feeling breathed forth in that magnificent song by Van Dyke: "O Europe is a fine place, yet something seems to lack; The past is too much with her, and her people looking back. For life is in the present, and the future must be free. We love our land for what she is, and what she ' is to be. - . So its home again, and home again, America ..... for me! My. heart is. turning home again to God's coun try, To the blessed land of room enough beyond the ocean bars, Where the air is full of sunshine, and the flag , is full of stars. : O London is a man's town with power in the '.air,, , . .;. . And Paris is a woman's town with, flowers in her hair, ( .. O Jts swee,t to loaf. in .Venice, Hand it's great to ... st;udy .Rome; .... But when it comes to living, there's no place like home. So it's home again, and home again, America for me! My heart is turning home again to God's coun try, To the blessed land of room enough beyond the ocean bars, Where the air is full of sunshine, and the. flag is full of stars;" i So, my friends, we turn from the vast arena of Europe, and its setting of worshipped heroes, arfd come to some of those more kin to us, de veloped beneath the flag of stars. I might take you back to the gloomy days of seventy-six when the father of our country struggled against the greatest empire in all the world; I might march you all day and half the night with bleed ing feet,, chilled through and through and half starved, across the state of New Jersey to the battlefield of Trenton, in order to show you the military genius and the greatness of Washing ton; and then, my friends, when we carve in perpetual memory the names of the greatest among our heroes, we must never forget tho magic name of Lincoln, the first American. There is no more unique figure in all ages than the rail splitter of the Sangamon bottoms, whose immortal works will be the theme of song and eulogy for years to come. But my theme today is a simpler one. My hero is no military genius, except perhaps as he marshalls tho forces of righteousness against the hosts of sin; my hero is a fanatic, whom the country despised and distrusted. His boyhood days were simple, his college life was normal, crowned with little other perhaps, than his natural ability for public speaking. Drift back with me some twenty years, when this character of ours began his political career. It was in the Fifty-second congress that he startled that body, and even the whole country, by his original ideas upon the tariff. From this time on his reputation grew, he fascinated the people, and drew multitudes to him in a strango and wonderful manner. His views upon tho Issues of the day were extraordinary, he was regarded as a fanatic- of the most extreme sort. H demanded that United States senators should bo elected by tho direct vote of the people. "This is impossible," said the politicians. "This could never be," thought tho majority of the people. He was scoffed at and jeered at, and hissed at, his bursts of oratory woro applauded, while what ho said was torn apart, and de clared the greatest fako of all tho ages. Then ho advocated tho publication of campaign ex penses before election, instead of afterward, as was then done. This in turn was declared as only another of his absurd and ridiculous dreams that could never be. The press of the country donounced him; no paper supported him with whole hearttidness, and the mass of tho people protested against his sincerity. One editorial especially shows tho opposition of the press, and its bitterness against him. It occurred in tho Now York Tribune just after his defeat for tho presidency in 189G, in a paper onco edited by the great Horace Greeley, and now owned by a man who came very near becoming vice president of the United States. Tho editorial said, in part: "Its nominal head," meaning Mr. Bryan, "was worthy of the cause nominal because the wrotched rattle-pated boy posing in vapid vanity, and mouthing re sounding rottenness, was not tho real - leader of this loague of hell. Not ono of his masters was more apt than he at lies, forgeries and blas phemies, and all tho nameless iniquities of that campaign against tho ten commandments. Ho goes down with tho cause, and must abide with It in the history of infamy. Let him go with the hissing of a peoples' scorn!" This, my friends, was the attitudo of the country against Mr. Bryan In the early nineties. Every move ment which was advocated by him was scorned and ridiculed as only another stopping stone upon which he might ascend to the presidency. The greatest event in his career came at the first convention from, which he received the democratic nomination for the presidency. This event was the famous "Cross of Gold" speech; the greatest piece of oratory in fifty years. Not since the days of Calhoun and Webster have such words moved tho minds and the hearts of their hearers. How magic were his words as they moved that vast assemblage. "You come here, and tell us that the groat cities are In favor of the gold standard; wo reply that our great cities rest upon our broad and fertile prairies. Burn down .your cities, and leave our farms, and youir 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 tho 'country." And then again in that immortal peroration, given as it only can be given by tho "Boy Orator of tho Platte," "If they dare to come out in the open, and defend the gold stand ard as a good thing, we will fight them to tho uttermost. Having behind us the producing masses of this nation and of tho world, sup ported by the commercial interests, tho labor ing interests and tho toilers everywhere, we will answer their demand for a gold standard by. saying to them, 'You shall not press down upon the brow of labor this crown of thorns, you shall not crucify mankind upon a cross of gold.' " This was the speech that won for Mr. Bryan tho nomination. Tho democratic party forsook their natural leader, at that time tho President of the United States, and noniinated a leader on tho most conflicting platform that ever supported a presidential candidate. It may bo asked, "What has been tho pro gress of this pioneer since tho days of ninety six?" My only reply need be to refer you to the press of this country, which now records every thing which Mr. Bryan says as important upon., the issue to which it refers. My friends wh.at Mr. Bryan would have been executed for had he lived in the days of John Brown of Ossawa tomie; those things have long since passed tho milestone of party creed and have leaped to tho goal of national necessity. Hand in hand with the march of events the reputation of Mr. Bryan has threaded Its way through the death-holes of politicians and has escaped the millstone of utter oblivion. You of tho republican party through the march of events in tho last threo decades, show me ono who has equalled the statesman ship of William Jennings Bryan; show mo ono in either party who has equalled his gift of speech, and show me ono in any nook or corner f the civilized world who has so clearly for seen the course of current events and then has labored against the prejudice of millions in order that the nation, in the end, might be benefited. My friends, we are living in an ago of ma- terlal things where religion plays but a minor part. Tho dictates of conscience are no longer heard, long silent now is the voice of Savana rola of old as he sways the multitudes with tho strength of his convictions, "O, Florence, O, Florence, repent, or your city shall be de stroyed!" Tho passing of tlmo has obliterated tho path of civic righteousness, and has pro duced a torrlblo rolgn of mechanical govern ment. Never elnco tho days when Washington knelt In tho snows of Valley Forgo, and prayed for tho succobb of llborty has any man of na tional consoquenco and reputation so fully de pended upon divine guidance There has boon a divorce between church and stato. Yot, hero stops a man who links religion and polltlca togethor, and with confidonco in his ability as God gives him tho power, marches toward civic righteousness and purity of govern ment. His belief in inspiration is woll shown by his fondness for tho poem, "To a Water fowl," by William Cullon Bryant: "Ho who from zono to zone Guides through tho boundless sky thy certain flight, In the long way that I must tread alone, Will guide my steps aright." ' The battle of Watorloo was nearly over; tho slowly netting sun beckoned night to closo tho last sad battle of Napoloon. Tho career of tho man of destiny was nearly done. The roar guard had been attacked, and boforo a rally could be made, tho front rank had boon swept away. Brave comrades gently carried a young lieutenant to the roar, and dropped his bleed ing form on the rude hospital cot. It was then, while tho surgoon probed his breast for tho bullet, that tho lad In a half delirious burst of strength turned partly over, and whispered to the rough army surgeon in a tono of utmost con fidonco, "Probe a little deeper, doctor, and you will find Napoleon there." So, my friends, you may plungo the common people in years of bloodless political battle, you may deceive thoir confidence by a grafter or a politician, you may wreck their hopes by tho promise coated tongue of a demagogue; you may pass before their eyes thc panorama of departed heroes, or conjure for them a truthful picture of those who now march their standards in the thick of tho fight, and In the end, my friends, In the end, you may search this country high and low, and you' will find emblazoned upon the heart of the com mon people the name of him who gave his politi cal life that civic righteousness and purity of government might be further marched along tho Utopian road toward the millenium that is sure to come. Tho magnificence of inarching armies and the brilliant diplomacy of statesmon are not tho things that dotorinine the deBtiny of nations. An unending procession oC world's tragedies has taught mankind that just as physical dissi pation and corruption spell human death so does civic unrighteousness and impurity of citizenship pronounce the doom of nations and empires. Thrice true is UiIb true of democratic government wherein tho public will is tho source -of power. In a nation of democracy public in tegrity and stability aro not so much a question of palace and senate and council chamber as they aro a question of an undeflled and upright common people. Viewing our nation through the warping Ions of patriotic pride wo boast that tho future holds no evil fortunes; we cry that tho United States is the mightiest exponent of democracy, and that its very name is synony mous with human happiness and liberty. Mark well then the man who preserves and cham pions the cause of labor, who guards safely the rights of tho common people! The march of events is a curious thing, and to him who can forseo, to him who can con struct, and then carry out with a steadfast ness of purpose, to him all honor should bo given, and to him belongs tho thanks and the blessings of posterity. O, politicians, where are your heroes? Mark Hanna, arise from your eternal slumber, and conjure for us a picture of departed champions. Lay at our feet the worthiest of your lot, and we will answer for tho cause of clean and pure politics, with tho fanatic of a decade ago. For ho answered your finest creations with the im mortal words: "You shall not press down upon tho brow of labor this crown of thorns; you shall not crucify mankind upon a cross of gold!" O, champion of labor; O, defender of tho common people; O, gifted orator and prince of prophets, march onward tho cause of precious liberty and demopracy! Hold high your lofty ambition before tho straining eyes of countless multitudes; arid when in after years, when you yield the helm to another, may the remembrance of an inspired touch send a thrill from bow to storn, as the, ship of state glides swiftly and proudly past the rocks of destruction through tho straight and narrow channel of an eternal democracy. ,Mjaui,g..,Jian 1 wyMiMM-i. Al tftjmi uAAfei-M-:.- y . m