"Sherman," continued Gen. Rosecrans, "stood sixth in his class at West Point, and he was very high in mathematics. He could have taken the honors, but he did not care for study, and he was blunt in his ways. He had no policy or diplomacy about him, and if one of the professors asked him to do a problem he would blurt out at times, 'I can't do it.' 'Why?' the professor would ask. 'Well, sir, to be frank with you, I haven't studied it.' Nevertheless, he stood so well as an honest, bright student that he was never punished for such remarks, but his carelessness, of course, cut down his average."
[CHAPTER XXXIV.]
SHERMAN'S OWN WORDS.
Speech At a Clover Club Dinner—A Famous New England Society Dinner—Teaching Geography in Georgia—Speaking for the United States—Old Times in Ohio—At a Grand Army National Encampment—Why He did not March to Augusta—One of His Last Letters—A Story of Grant—Congratulations to President Harrison.
General Sherman displayed his marked ability as a letter-writer early in life, as a lad at West Point. To the end of his days he wielded the same vigorous and trenchant pen. Nor was he less effective as a speaker. The graces of oratory, as taught in schools, he did not aspire to display. His eloquence was of a more impressive type than that; it was the eloquence of a man of action. Ideas were plenty in his fertile brain, and, as an omnivorous reader he had acquired a vast vocabulary. When he arose to speak, therefore, he had but one thing to do: to express his thoughts in words with the same directness and vigor with which he would, on occasion, have wrought them out in deeds. He was a spirited and dramatic story-teller, and his fund of anecdotes seemed inexhaustible. "Stage-fright" was of course unknown to him, though the circumstances of his speaking affected him much.
Some years before his death, it is related, he was a guest at a Clover Club dinner, in Philadelphia. This Clover Club was composed of newspaper men, authors, artists, etc., and its ruling idea was non-formality. No guest was too eminent to be exempt from practical jokes and guying. So when General Sherman rose to speak, having been called upon, he was greeted by a storm of applause. This applause was renewed whenever he attempted to open his mouth, until at last, surprised, indignant and hurt, he shut his teeth together like a sprung rat-trap and sat down. A moment later the Club struck up the tune "Marching Through Georgia," and they all joined in the song with a will. As the ringing words of that song filled the hall and the compliment contained in them went into the heart of the old warrior, he saw that the joking was all good-natured. He grew mellow again, and as he looked about the board and saw good-fellowship, good-nature and admiration in every countenance, the tears came to his eyes and he rose and made one of the best speeches that has ever been delivered before them. He made his speech without interruption, and the applause which followed it at the end was genuine enough and not facetious.
One of Sherman's most notable and most characteristic speeches was made at the dinner of the New England Society, in New York, on December 22d, 1886. It was as follows:—
Mr. President and Gentlemen of the New England Society of New York.—Were I to do the proper thing, I would turn to my friend on the left and say amen, for he has drawn a glorious picture of the War, in language stronger than even I or my friend Schofield could dare to use. But looking over the Society to-night, so many young faces here, so many old and loved ones gone—I feel almost as one of your forefathers. [Laughter and applause.] Many and many a time have I been welcomed among you. I came from a bloody civil war to New York in years gone by—twenty or twenty-one, may be—and a committee came to me in my room and dragged me unwillingly before the then New England Society of New York, and they received me with such hearty applause and such kindly greetings that my heart goes out to you now to-night as their representatives. [Applause.] God knows, I wish you, one and all, all the blessings of life, and enjoyment of the good things you now possess and others yet in store for you, young men.
"I hope not to occupy more than a few minutes of your time, for last night I celebrated the same event in Brooklyn, and at about two or three o'clock this morning I saw this hall filled with lovely ladies waltzing [laughter,] and here I am to-night. [Renewed laughter. A voice—You're a rounder, General.] But I shall ever, ever recur to the early meetings of the New England Society, in which I shared with a pride and satisfaction which words will not express, and I hope the few words I now say will be received in the kindly spirit they are made in, be they what they may, for the call upon me is sudden and somewhat unexpected.