COMMUNICATIONS

A Tribute to Robert H. Parkinson '70

Chicago, Jan. 28, 1928

The Editor, DARTMOUTH ALUMNI MAGAZINE,

Dear Sir: The college authorities have already been formally advised of the death, at Chicago, on December 26, 1928, of Robert H. Parkinson, of the class of 1870, through the proceeding in the Probate Court of Cook County, Illinois, for the proof of his will, by which he left to the College $10,000.00 "to be invested by its Trustees in suitable securities and the income thereof to be used in its behalf for such purposes as its

Trustees may direct." Others more familiar with the details of his earlier career will doubtless send you for publication in the ALUMNI MAGAZINE a sketch of his life, but I cannot refrain from adding my tribute of admiration and affectionate respect.

He came to Chicago in 1893, from Cincinnati, and for many years has been one of the outstanding leaders in the United States of his branch of the legal profession, that of the law of patents and trade-marks. For more than 18 years prior to his death his firm, consisting of himself and Mr. Wallace R. Lane, enjoyed an increasingly large and lucrative practice, probably surpassed by no other in the country engaged in their specialty. But it was the man, rather than the lawyer, who commanded my respect and admiration. Dignified, but affable, always most courteous, cordial in his personal contacts, a lover of the best literature as well as of fine blooded animals, especially horses, which he rode almost daily, up to shortly before his death. He made many loyal friends of the finest type, like himself, and regarded them as his best assets. He had the most scrupulous sense of honor and integrity. He was the one man in a million whose sense of honor was so exact that he always returned for taxation all intangibles, and even cash in bank, which under the letter of the law, though not by almost universal custom, were subject to assessment of taxation. His "Farewell" to his children, expressed in his Will, reveals his standards of living.

"I entreat my children to live earnestly, honorably, industriously, discharging every duty to each other and to mankind faithfully, affectionate among themselves, and devoutly revering and serving God and their Country."

Mr. Parkinson was another of the many distinguished products of the kind of education received at the "Old Dartmouth," who maintained until death his interest in and devotion to his alma mater. If all alumni had his characteristics, even in a small degree, there would never be any question about raising the amount required each year for the Alumni Fund.

Very truly yours,

From Friends of Professor Foster

Neuchatel, Switzerland, Tan. 16, 1928

The Editor, DARTMOUTH ALUMNI MAGAZINE, Dear Sir:

I .have just heard the news of Professor Foster's death, and would like to pay a tribute to his memory.

I first met him in August, 1919, when we returned to the United States on the same boat, and as we had both studied at Geneva, we began a friendship which has grown with the years. It was due to this chance meeting that I was accepted as an instructor at Dartmouth that autumn, when it became evident that the class of '23 would overtax the Department of History. Professor Foster was chairman of the department at that time, and I feel that I owe him, as well as Professors Anderson and Lingley a debt of gratitude for their advice and help in my first college teaching. Their friendly backing had much to do with my uninterruptedly good relations with my first students, and with the fact that I look back with the greatest pleasure on Dartmouth and my work there.

Since I left Dartmouth, nearly seven years have passed, and have been able to return to Hanover but once, my friendship with Professor Foster has been enduring. I have seen him at the American Historical Association, and on our way back from the Rochester meeting, in December, 1926, he stopped over night at my home in Schenectady. Only my delayed arrival in Switzerland prevented our meeting here. When I heard of his death, I had been looking forward to seeing him soon, having learned from Professor Borgeaud, our former teacher in Geneva, that Professor Foster planned to return there this spring.

He received me in his home when I was a green instructor, he encouraged me in my work and always set an example of absolute integrity and rectitude. His manner was downright, yet the full and frank apology he could give to his subordinates when he believed that he had been in any way unjust, was above all praise. He consulted them on points connected with his published work, and accepted suggestions from them, which showed a rare quality of meekness. His devotion to his church and its best interests, his love of children, and his willingness to subordinate his own convenience and comfort to the advantage of those who worked under him excited my admiration. His trials, which few of his students suspected, and his very zeal for their best good made his rebukes severe at times, yet if ever a man hated the sin but loved the sinner, it was Professor Foster.

He was a devoted husband, a true friend, a loyal alumnus, a tireless worker, a Christian gentleman.

(Instructor in History, Dartmouth College,1919-21)

[The following information about Professor Foster's last days in England was sent by Mr. Dixon R. Fox, Director of the British Division of the American University Union.]

The many friends of Professor Herbert D. Foster, of Dartmouth College, will, I am sure, be anxious to know the circumstances of his sudden death in England on December 26 last.

He had arrived in Europe in the early part of the summer and after a tour on the Continent had taken up quarters in London. Here he applied himself with his customary intensity to the collection of more material on the general subject of Puritanism, upon which, as American historians are fully aware, he had been working for many years. He expressed himself from time to time as well satisfied with his progress.

As early as October, however, he intimated to friends that he was experiencing some arterial trouble and sought the advice of specialists. Recently, it appears, he was assured by them that his condition was much improved. Nevertheless, the cold sunless damp depressed him and he sought light and warmth. A holiday tour to France was discussed, but it seemed better finally to run down to the Cornwall coast, usually warm and balmy at this season; the railway and resort interests have energetically advertised it as the "English Riviera" and make much of the fact that its mean temperature is about that of Rome.

He went first to Penzance and saw the surrounding points of interest, Land's End, St. Michael's Mount, etc. Then, on December 16, he went to St. Ives, a town on the northern coast of the peninsula, about an hour from Penzance by bus. He arrived late in the afternoon at the Porthminster Hotel, immediately dressed for dinner and found himself in a very cheering holiday atmosphere. After dinner he jointed heartily in a Christmas party which had been arranged for the guests. Fond of dancing as he was, he greatly enjoyed himself. About midnight, while dancing with a young lady whose family he had long known in London, he suddenly faltered and fell. He was carried to an adjacent room, where a physician present pronounced him dead of heart failure. He was quite unknown at the hotel, except for the lady mentioned, whose presence, therefore, was most fortunate. Her father in London having been notified, called at the British Museum to collect the professor's notes and was advised to communicate with the American University Union; it was thus by chance that we heard of the sad event. Cables were immediately sent to America and on Thursday morning, December 29, I was directed by the professor's attorney, P. R. Bugbee, of Hanover, N. H., to take charge of the arrangements.

I immediately left for the west of England where I spent the following five days. I found matters in much confusion. The undertaker in an English-village is not at all the equal of his American counterpart, the one in St. Ives being a humble boat-builder whose professional knowledge goes little further than the making of a neat coffin. Seeing this situation I telegraphed to London for a licensed embalmer, who came down during the next night to perform the necessary duties. The remains were therefore prepared in the chapel vault of the little cemetery, surrounded with the mortuary Celtic crosses covering the hillside and looking out over the rocks to the Irish Sea. I held the candle while seven stout and rugged Cornishmen lifted all that was left here of our friend into the coffin which had been lined with a lead casket. I then officially witnessed the sealing of the lid. As I stood there in this little stone room with the fishermen I thought of how many colleagues and friends across the sea I humbly represented in these sad offices. I felt grateful for the circumstances which permitted at least one personal friend to be at hand.

Certificates and orders had to be collected from the coroner, the registrar, the sergeant of police, the medical officer, the embalmer, the undertaker, etc. No one was quite sure of the procedure and it entailed much running about. On Sunday I went to Plymouth where on the following day further arrangements were made with the American Consulate. Even as I write, ten days after the death, certificates are still passing back and forth for sealing and stamp- ing. The identification card has been cancelled by the London police and the passport by the American Consul in London. Brown, Shipley & Cos. have been very courteous in advancing funds to meet the bills incident to all the arrangements.

To many friends of Professor Foster the place where he died under such circumstances will take on some interest. St. Ives is an ancient fishing village, still maintaining a fleet which goes out daily with five hundred men. The houses are all of stone with high roofs covered with slate. The side walls bulge and hollow picturesquely and each roof resembles a little rolling prairie covered with luxuriant moss. Moss and lichens, indeed, grow over

everything giving a charming variegated colouring to the stones. The streets are unbelievably narrow, crooked and steep. American summer rains would wash them away and American winters would make them entirely impassable while the ice lasted. The principal means of travel is the high two-wheeled cart.

Sub-tropical vegetation flourishes on all sides, including several varieties of palms; in the gardens flowers are blooming and the grass and ivy are as rich a green now in January as at any time. Around the town are high moors covered with gorse, rhododendron and other shrubs all in leaf and some of them in flower. No wonder that St. Ives is called the "art centre of Englandyet, fortunately, there is no odour of "art" in the town; the artists have not tried to improve it.

It was to such a place that Professor Foster came searching the sun and youth and gayety. He happily found them all. Deeply content, be died while dancing. No fate, it would seem, could have accorded more finely with his spirit.