the speaker, unless you were strongly opposed to him? And even then, would it

not partly disarm your antagonism?

 

Mr. President:--Bidden by your invitation to a discussion of the race

problem--forbidden by occasion to make a political speech--I appreciate, in

trying to reconcile orders with propriety, the perplexity of the little maid,

who, bidden to learn to swim, was yet adjured, "Now, go, my darling; hang your

clothes on a hickory limb, and don't go near the water."

 

The stoutest apostle of the Church, they say, is the missionary, and the

missionary, wherever he unfurls his flag, will never find himself in deeper need

of unction and address than I, bidden tonight to plant the standard of a

Southern Democrat in Boston's banquet hall, and to discuss the problem of the

races in the home of Phillips and of Sumner. But, Mr. President, if a purpose to

speak in perfect frankness and sincerity; if earnest understanding of the vast

interests involved; if a consecrating sense of what disaster may follow further

misunderstanding and estrangement; if these may be counted to steady

undisciplined speech and to strengthen an untried arm--then, sir, I shall find

the courage to proceed.

 

Note also Mr. Bryan's attempt to secure the confidence of his audience in the

following introduction to his "Cross of Gold" speech delivered before the

National Democratic Convention in Chicago, 1896. He asserts his own inability to

oppose the "distinguished gentleman;" he maintains the holiness of his cause;

and he declares that he will speak in the interest of humanity--well knowing