That evening the news came that Parker had refused to run unless the word "gold" was written into the platform; the convention was thrown into panic; the sick man rose from his bed and entered the wild and turbulent hall, white-faced, breathing with difficulty, sweat pouring down his face, and there took up the work again, single-handed still. He fought on all night, was defeated again, and went under the doctor's hands. Those speeches in that convention were really the greatest of his life, though they may not read as well as others; each of them was a battle.
Parker's defeat by Roosevelt again erased that ever-recurring epitaph over Bryan's political grave. It was evident at once that nothing could prevent him from being again the candidate in 1908. Again he was defeated, and again the epitaph was jubilantly rewritten. He was extinguished, he would never again be an influence in the party; it was, to use the phrase of 1896, 1900, and 1904, "the end of Bryan."
Again the epitaph had to be erased. He was so far from being extinguished that he became the dominating force of the convention of 1912. There is no doubt in the mind of the writer, who was there, that Bryan had given up all hope of running for President, because, as he expressed it in a thrilling midnight speech at that convention, he recognized at last that he had too many enemies ever to expect to win. But he did determine to be a king-maker if he could not be a king, and king-maker he was.
Not even the convention of 1904 showed Bryan in better light as a fighter than that of 1912. He was determined that the reactionaries should not control the convention. At the beginning he was defeated, but defeat never affected Bryan in the least in all his life, and this time, as usual, he only went on fighting. When the convention rejected him for Temporary Chairman and elected Parker, the embodiment of all he opposed, he merely took a fresh hold and fought harder.
When he swung Nebraska from Champ Clark to Wilson he had won, and thereafter Wilson's nomination was only a question of time. He was the centre of violent scenes, as when maddened men swept down upon him and shook their standards in his face and seemed on the verge of assaulting him. When he tried to get a hearing and the opposition shouted him down, he simply climbed up on the platform beside the Chairman and forced them to hear. Once, while the whole convention seemed to be yelling at him, and he stood in the midst of a whirlwind of angry noise, ex-Governor McCorkle of West Virginia, jumping up and facing him, shrieked in a voice heard above the cyclone: "Are you a Democrat?"
"My Democracy has been certified to by six and a half million voters. But," pointing his palm-leaf fan at McCorkle, with magnificent contempt, "I will ask the secretary to record one vote in the negative if the gentleman will give me his name."
He won; Wilson was nominated. He brought his great following into line for an Eastern man, and Wilson was elected. The new President, following a precedent set by Taylor, Garfield, and Harrison, made him Secretary of State.
Then Bryan showed a new side of his character to the country. He effaced himself in Wilson's interest; he became a loyal subordinate, accepting a minor place cheerfully and laboring with might and main to make the Administration a success. It is chiefly due to his efforts that it was one for its first two years. The new President was unknown to most of his party, and the legislation he recommended would have met with internal opposition but for Bryan. The Secretary whipped his followers into line even for legislation so repugnant to them as the Currency bill, and the Presidential program went through. In two years Mr. Wilson had become a definite personality to the country, and had a following of his own; but his initial success was due to Bryan, and but for Bryan Mr. Wilson might have had to face a party as divided as did Cleveland, and might have seen his Administration wrecked as Cleveland's was.
Mr. Bryan hoped to make an enduring name for himself as Secretary of State. In the years that had elapsed since he was Colonel of the Third Nebraska he had become an ardent pacifist, and he dreamed of going into history with a title greater than that of any other statesman who ever lived—for such, surely, would have been the meed of the man who abolished war. That mind of his, honest as the day, but far from great; strong but not broad, sees everything as simple, not as complex. Is there a wrong? Why, then, abolish it; it is as simple as A B C. War is wrong; therefore let us stop it. How? Why, get everybody to agree not to fight without taking a year to look into the thing. And he busied himself drafting and negotiating treaties with all the world to get it to agree to this simple but certain remedy. The "glorified circuit rider" was at the head of the Department of State of the United States. If anybody had suggested to him that there were nations which no treaty could bind, he would have answered, in the style of the prayer-meeting exhorter, "Ah! I have a higher faith in human nature." So he worked busily, building himself his niche in the temple of fame, and meanwhile the greatest war in history broke out.
With such a mind as has been described, it is evident that this event could not shake Mr. Bryan's confidence in himself or his remedies. To him it was obvious that the war came because the nations involved had not signed his treaty; if they had, Germany would have abided by it; would not have dreamed of treating it as a scrap of paper; would have waited the prescribed year, and Austria would have given Serbia the same time to reply to her ultimatum. The mischief was done, but he set about heroically to repair it; he sought to have the United States intervene as a peacemaker; he sought to prevent the United States from protecting its citizens on the high seas, since that seemed likely to lead to war; and at last, finding his efforts of no avail, he resigned.