THE REMINISCENCES OF CARL SCHURZ
a little puzzled at the respect shown him by all whom I met and by the decided deference of the younger men among them. He was somewhat rustic in appearance, and could hardly be called uncommonly interesting in conversation. There was no captivation in his looks nor in his manners. He resembled rather a gnarled oak having strong branches and a vigorous foliage but no flowers. Gradually I learned to understand and appreciate his worth. He was animated by a large and respectful sympathy with the weak and lowly, a hearty love of truth and right and justice, and equally hearty contempt of all humbug and false pretense and meanness, an indomitable courage in attacking what he thought wrong, and that kind of patriotism which consisted in a keen and jealous appreciation of the honor and the highest duties of his country. And what he knew and thought and felt came out in a language of rugged force. He may not have contributed much to the stock of ideas in his time, and he had his eccentricities and made his mistakes, but he was the very embodiment of enlightened and courageous conscience and of high moral standards. Public men of a higher grade of ability could, perhaps, not learn much from him, but they were anxious to be thought well of by him and to be able to count him among their friends. This made him a moral power and thus a singularly useful citizen of the Republic. He had a peculiar attraction for younger men. A number of them used to meet him at dinner at regular intervals in some public house in Boston, and this “Frank Bird Club” continued to exist under that name for years after his death.
I returned from my Massachusetts expedition to Wisconsin much richer in friendships as well as in experience. But in my State I soon found myself exposed to a trial not altogether pleasant. Whatever of soreness—and there was but very little—I may have at the time felt at my defeat as a can-
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