His eagerness in first-hand investigation of the facts and locations of history, carried over in his literary treatment. His style was as irreproachable as that of a classic in observance of good taste and all the established canons, but it found a way, within these allowable limits, to be idiomatic, zestful, and strong. In elements of grace it was distinctively rich—easy, resonant, unerring in placement of words and phrases, and containing many passages that reverberate in the memory. It was nowhere marked by cliches, repetitions, pedantry, or appliques of undigested research. An old friend in the University at Eugene, upon receiving one of Dr. Schafer's early Wisconsin volumes, went about the academic offices reading the introduction aloud and remaking: "Lord, Lord, a man who can write like that limited to Wisconsin!"
As an example of the musical quality of his prose, take this sentence from an article in the North American Review:
He is the mountaineer, who, without training, though strong and resilient, begins the march by morning starlight and stands at evening on the summit.
He was a great stickler for good taste all along the line. A striking instance occurred at the time of World War I. The history text then used in the Portland public schools had been criticized by certain patriotic groups for containing references not calculated to create a love of country in the young. Among the statements under fire was one on General Grant. The school historian in two clauses of a sentence had given Grant suitable credit for greatness but had ended with this adverse third clause: "but as a statesman he was pitiable." Dr. Schafer in explaining the matter to a group of teachers—and it was characteristic of him that such controversial matters should be frankly treated—he said the statement was true enough but it was in bad taste, and on that account should never have been included in a school text.
He had a lively humor and a hearty laugh that would keep going and going in cadences of mirth. In sending a picture of himself to a newspaper feature writer, the only one he could find was a bucolic scene, for at that time he owned a farm near Eugene. He suggested it might be entitled "Me and the bull."
