THE REMINISCENCES OF CARL SCHURZ
ing that the soldier, acting presumably on the conspicuous theater of the world's great affairs, is surrounded by everything apt to excite his combativeness and to stimulate his ambition— the inspiring drumbeat and bugle call, the emulation of his comrades, the prospect of having his name trumpeted to the admiration of the world, the expectation of promotions, and rewards, and distinctions in various forms—even of political preferments—while the fireman and the member of the life-saving station, acting on a comparatively humble and obscure scene, has little more to inspire him than his sense of duty and his human sympathy, and may, beyond that, only look for a short laudatory notice in a local newspaper, a word of commendation from his chief, and, perhaps, a medal and a little advantage in promotion?
Yet, the war-hero, the man of martial glory, the bold and successful destroyer of lives—albeit the lives of “enemies”—has held, now holds, and is likely to continue to hold—at least until we reach a higher stage of civilization—stronger place in popular esteem, or shall we rather say in the popular imagination, than the man who has earned his title to heroship by the saving of lives. And more than that: The martial hero who has distinguished himself as a military leader, on a more or less large scale, is likely to be endowed by the same popular imagination with all possible moral and mental qualifications believed to entitle him to leadership on other fields of human activity, and especially on the political field, on which the bestowal of power depends most on popular favor.
This is the case in this country more than in any other, except perhaps Spain, where there are reasons for it which do not exist here. With the Americans this tendency of the popular mind has probably been strengthened by the great example of Washington, who, in an exceptional degree,
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