The times. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1897-1901, 1900-10-21

tereSt by the reading WOrlu. II Is stated
In the authors preface to be rather
biography of the inner life of the man
himself than record Of his work, and
as such 1t cannot fail to be extremely in
teresting. One could wish, however that
little more had been told of his WORK as
we'll as of his character, though. as Mr..
Farnham says, the peculiar methods CT
work which he pursued. and the retired
life which he of necessity led, makes it
almost impossible to write Of him in any
other way except that chosen by the pres
ent biographer
There is no more interesting or force
full character in the history of American
letters than that Of Francis Parkman
The huge NEUTRALITY-SUSPICIOUS. which he
stroye throughout the time spent in his
life work, the indefatigable spirit with
which he surmounted them, and the stern
and lofty character developed by the con-
ditions Of his life and his own invincible
determination, make CT him figure as i'm
pressive as that of any general or states
man who ever lived. He would be a pic
turesque individuality even had he done
nothing worthy of fame, but when il is
remembered that ne was historian of
marvellous achievement, that he gave 10
the world, and particularly to his coun-
try. series of books SO unique and pow
lation of new genius of history, the rec
ord of his growth in character is fasci-
mating beyond words.
He was a singularly reserved man in
habits, this being due probably to his ILL
health, since the few social duties which
he did fulfill were performed in man.
ner which made him valued both as citi-
zen and as a friend. There are conse-
quently, but few "reminiscences of Elm ex-
tant among his acquaintance and he took
no such large part in the life of his time
as Lowell or Longfellow. 1t is recorded
that he served on the board of trustees of
Harvard University, and always attended
the meetings, although he was rarely able
10 remain more than an hour at a time
There are two portraits of him in this
volume, one taken in youth, the other in
the beginning OF old age, and the difference
between the two is curious to note. The
FIRST shows serious faced youth, with
keen eyes, broad brow, somewhat firm
mouth, short upper lip and determined
chin, with cleft in it. 1t is the face of
scholar by inheritance, inclination, and
training, the best type Of the Harvard
College man Of the fifties. The second IL
the portrait Of man whose chief char
acteristic is a jaw that seems carved in
granite. projecting sharply until it is al
most on line with the pointed nose. The
dr1n mouth has hardened to a line and
the eyes have lost their speculative look
and have become keen though kindly. The
difference between the two pictures tells
almost as we'll as the text the story Of
Francis Parkman's life. He was a man
Utterly devoted to one purpose, and that
purpose kept him alive and saved him from
becoming hopeless invalid and msan-
thrope. In the process of accomplishing
that one aim In life he eliminated every
thing that interfered with it. He became
incarnate will. He lived to write history,
and fll-health. pain, disease, feebleness,
did not matter except as they interfered
with that business. This record is the
chronicle Of an unce@tng fight against IN
herfted and protean weakness which en-
feebled FIRST one faculty and then another
with demoniac caprice but never found the
mans spirit sleeping or timorous. Park
man metaphorically slept in armor.
In every trait of his character Park
man was individual and original He was
not the typical historian He cared con-
siderably more for nature than for man,
as rule. and did not love to delye in
musty libraries or among piles of old rec
ords, though he did great deal Of such
work In connection with his histories of
Canada. He took in person the journeys
taken by the French and Indians on their
raids from Canada on the New England
settlements, and traversed the routes fol-
lowed by the Northwestern coureurs des
bois along the Great Lakes But the ear
lier pages of this biography are full of
descriptions Of expeditions made into the
depths Of New England forests, purely for
the love OF wild nature, and he did not
care half SO much for Lake Como as for
the savage beauty Of Lake George His
descriptions Of nature are marked by the |
same vivid imagination and condensed
suggestiveness which characterize his his
tor1cai writings. One cannot read half a |
page OF Parkman, wherever he is found. |
without following out trains Of thought |
suggested by his terse sentences. Even in |
an early description Of the Alps his power |
OF word-painting is to be seen:
spent the day yesterday in the valley Of Ger. |
rera one of the widest and loneliest in the Aims
and accessible only by bad foot-path The |
river comes down at the bottom, which the sun |
scarcely ever touches. The mountains rise on |
each side many thousand feet, broken into crags
and precipices, with streams falling down them
in all directions, scattering into white miss be.
fore they reach the bottom. the spruce trees |
are srrinkled all over the cliffs wherever there |
Is a crevicc to cling in; gigantic pines |
etoop across the river and fairly seem to culver
with the tremendous roar OF the water All is |
solitary and still as death. executing the noise |
OF the river; yet you cannot sit on one Of these
rocks and watch the green and furious water |
CHANGING between the trunks and branches below |
without fancying that you hear sounds and voices
about you. ] never knew a place so haunted by |
''thcse airy tongues that syllable mems names'' |
And here again:
Nothing could surpass the utter ravaceness of |
the scenery that you find by tracing up some |
of the little streams that pour down on all sides
to join the Rhine; not of human hand |
st is as wild as the back forest at home The |
mountains, too, wear the aspect. There is |
one valley where large stream comes down 10 |
join the river, mile from Andeer. Last night |
] followed it for mile or two, back in the |
mountains. Not Cooper himself could do it !
Justice. The river was hundred feet below |
in raviDe where it dashed from side to side
and bounded sometimes in fall of fifty or sixty |
feet-the green headlong water, the white foam !
and the spray just visible through the bo,,,hs
of the distorted pines that leaned over the abyss
There was in one place a peasants hut of logs
but it seemed only to increase the sublime effect
OF the wilderness ] got down to the bed Of the |
river, and leaped ont to some rocks the GER
tire. IL was nearly dark-long after sunset |
What with the deafening thunder of the strea,n-
the gloom that began 10 involve the shaggy
branches OF the yellow pines, that leaned nearly
the gulf. and the stiff and upright sprt,ces
that sprung from every crevice OF the rock-what
with this and the savage aspect of the rocks
which we're black and dripping with spray
there was something almost appalling in the
place. Above the tops Of the trees rose noun
tains like ours Of New England. covered with fir
trees. wherever one could cling to the creyices |
OF the steep cliffs And in another direction the
more distant peaks were white with snow which
retained its glistenine brightness long after the
moon had begun TO cast a shadow. Here was |
change with vengeance from the Italian beau
ties of the lake Of Como. ! sat on the rock,
fancying myself again in the American woods |
with an lndi:n companion; but l 10 go
away the hellish beating Of my heart warned me
that such expeditions were in store
for me, for the present at least-bu, If do not |
sleep by the camp fire again it shall be no fault
Of mine.
The peculiar conditions under which
most OF Parkman's work was done were
doubtless responsible for the mar eloIs-