Any necessity for it? No.
Any popular demand for it? No.
His excuse was that he wanted a Gold Reserve out of which to pay off the $346,000,000 in Greenbacks “when presented for redemption.”
Was anybody clamoring for the redemption of Greenbacks? No.
Was there any law under which anybody had a right to go to the Treasury and demand gold for Greenbacks? No.
Was there any custom or policy which authorized this setting apart of gold to redeem Greenbacks? No.
But Sherman did it, just the same, and it soon appeared that he had made us a Mumbo Jumbo which we all worshiped and before whose mysterious power we all fell prostrate.
As long as Sherman was Secretary of the Treasury the Gold Reserve was sacred. Congress looked upon it with awe. The President did it reverence. The newspapers bent to it in speechless adoration. The politicians rubbed the skin off their stomachs groveling before it. The people—the great inert mass within which is irresistible might if they but had courage and co-operation—patiently padded their knees and, likewise, knelt in mute submission.
The Gold Reserve was a national institution—like the Washington Monument—not to be desecrated, but recognized, supported, defended.
Senators alluded to it as they would to Plymouth Rock or Mount Vernon. It was a fixed fact which nobody disputed and all respected.