red upon his great subject of
"France in the New World." The material was mostly in manuscript, and
had to be examined, gathered, and selected in Europe and in Canada.
He could not read, he could write only a very little and that with
difficulty, and yet he pressed on. He slowly collected his material and
digested and arranged it, using the eyes of others to do that which he
could not do himself, and always on the verge of a complete breakdown
of mind and body. In 1851 he had an effusion of water on the left knee,
which stopped his outdoor exercise, on which he had always largely
depended. All the irritability of the system then centered in the head,
resulting in intense pain and in a restless and devouring activity
of thought. He himself says: "The whirl, the confusion, and strange,
undefined tortures attending this condition are only to be conceived
by one who has felt them." The resources of surgery and medicine were
exhausted in vain. The trouble in the head and eyes constantly recurred.
In 1858 there came a period when for four years he was incapable of the
slightest mental application, and the attacks varied in duration from
four hours to as many months. When the pressure was lightened a little
he went back to his work. When work was impossible, he turned to
horticulture, grew roses, and wrote a book about the cultivation of
those flowers which is a standard authority.

As he grew older the attacks moderated, although they never departed.
Sleeplessness pursued him always, the slightest excitement would deprive
him of the power of exertion, his sight was always sensitive, and at
times he was bordering on blindness. In this hard-pressed way he fought
the battle of life. He says himself that his books took four times as
long to prepare and write as if he had been strong and able to use his
faculties. That this should have been the case is little wonder, for
those books came into being with failing sight and shattered nerves,
with sleeplessness and pain, and the menace of insanity ever hanging
over the brave man who, nevertheless, carried them through to an end.

Yet the result of those fifty years, even in amount, is a noble one, and
would have been great achievement for a man who had never known a sick
day. In quality, and subject, and method of narration, they leave little
to be desired. There, in Parkman's volumes, is told vividly, strongly,
and truthfully, the history of the great struggle between France and
Eng