He was invited in the spring or early summer of 1885 to address a political club in Boston. The whole country listened eagerly to see what counsel the great Senator and the great Constitutional lawyer, and great orator, had to give to his party associates and to the people in that momentous time. But he contented himself with making a bright and witty speech. The club was known as the Middlesex Club, though it had its meetings in Boston. He gave a humorous description of the feelings of the Middlesex man when he went over to Boston, and those of the Boston man when he went over to Middlesex; and told one or two stories of his early days in Boston, where he was born. That was all. I felt as I listened as though a pail of ice- water had been poured down my spine.
But modesty and disinterestedness are qualities that are so infrequent among public men that we may well pardon this bright and delightful genius for that fault.
In the last years of his service in the Senate he had a very serious affliction of the eyes, which rendered it impossible for him to use them for reading or study, or to recognize by sight any but the most familiar human figures. He bore the calamity with unfailing cheerfulness. I believe it was caused by overwork in the preparation of a case. The first I knew of it, he asked me to meet him at Concord, where he was about to make a visit. He told me what had happened, and that his physicians in Washington and New York thought there was a possibility that they congestion of the veins surrounding the optic nerve might be absorbed. But they thought the case very doubtful, and advised him to go to Europe for the benefit of the journey, and for the possible advantage of advice there. He wanted me to undertake the duties devolving on him in the Committee of which he was Chairman, and to attend to some other public matters in his absence. His physician in Paris told him there was not the slightest hope. He thought that the darkness would certainly, though gradually, shut down upon him. He received this sentence with composure. But he said that he had long wished to see Raphael's famous Virgin at Dresden, and that he would go to Dresden to see it before the night set in. This he did. So the faces of the beautiful Virgin and the awful children were, I have no doubt, a great consolation to him in his darkened hours.
John Sherman was Secretary of the Treasury. I sat next to him in the Senate for several years. I came to know him quite intimately. I suppose few men knew him more intimately, although I fancy he did not give his inmost confidence to anybody, unless to his brother the General, or to a few persons of his own family or household. I paid the following tribute to him the day after his death:
"It is rarely more than once or twice in a generation that a great figure passes from the earth who seems the very embodiment of the character and temper of his time. Such men are not always those who have held the highest places or been famous for great genius or even enjoyed great popularity. They rather are men who represent the limitations as well as the accomplishments of the people around them. They know what the people will bear. They utter the best thought which their countrymen in their time are able to reach. They are by no means mere thermometers. They do not rise and fall with the temperature about them. But they are powerful and prevailing forces, with a sound judgment and practical common sense that understands just how high the people can be lifted, and where the man who is looking not chiefly at the future but largely to see what is the best thing that can be done in the present should desist from unavailing effort. Such a man was John Sherman, for whom the open grave is now waiting at Mansfield. For nearly fifty years he has been a conspicuous figure and a great leader in the party which has controlled the Government. Of course, in a republic it can be claimed for no man that he controlled the course of history. And also, of course, it is not possible while the events are fresh to assign to any one man accurately his due share in the credit for what is done, especially in legislative bodies, where matters are settled in secret council often before the debate begins and almost always before the vote is taken.
"But there are some things we can say of Mr. Sherman without fear of challenge now and without fear of any record that may hereafter leap to light.
"He filled always the highest places. He sat at the seat of power. His countrymen always listened for his voice and frequently listened for his voice more eagerly than for that of any other man. He became a Republican leader almost immediately after he took his seat in the House of Representatives in 1855. He was candidate for Speaker before the war, at the time when the Republican Party achieved its first distinct and unequivocal national success, unless we except the election of General Banks, who had himself been elected partly by Know- Nothing votes. Mr. Sherman failed of an election. But the contest left him the single preeminent figure in the House of Representatives—a preeminence which he maintained in his long service in the Senate, in the Treasury, and down to within a few years of his death.
"He was a man of inflexible honesty, inflexible courage, inflexible love of country. He was never a man of great eloquence, or greatly marked by that indefinable quality called genius. But in him sound judgment and common sense, better than genius, better than eloquence, always prevailed, and sometimes seemed to rise to sublimity which genius never attains. His inflexible courage and his clear vision manifested themselves in the very darkest period of our history, when hope seemed at times to have gone out in every other heart. There is a letter in his Memoirs, written April 12, 1861, which, as I remember the gloom and blackness of that time, seems to me one of the sublimest utterances in our history. The letter was written to his brother William, afterward the General, who had been offered a place in the War Department, which Mr. Chase urged him to accept, saying that he would be virtually Secretary of War. The offer must have been a dazzling temptation to the young soldier who had left his profession and was engaged in civil duties as an instructor, I think, in a college somewhere. But John earnestly dissuades his brother from accepting it, urges him to take a position in the field, and foretells his great military success. He then adds the following prediction as to the future of the country. It was written at midnight at the darkest single hour of our history:
"'Let me now record a prediction. Whatever you may think of the signs of the times, the Government will rise from the strife greater, stronger and more prosperous than ever. It will display every energy and military power. The men who have confidence in it, and do their full duty by it, may reap whatever there is of honor and profit in public life, while those who look on merely as spectators in the storm will fail to discharge the highest duty of a citizen, and suffer accordingly in public estimation.'
"Mr. Sherman's great fame and the title to his countrymen's remembrance which will most distinguish him from other men of his time, will rest upon his service as a financier. He bowed a little to the popular storm in the time of fiat money. Perhaps if he had not bowed a little he would have been uprooted, and the party which would have paid our national debt in fiat money would have succeeded. But ever since that time he has been an oak and not a willow. The resumption of specie payments and the establishment of the gold standard, the two great financial achievements of our time, are largely due to his powerful, persistent and most effective advocacy.