74 
THE CONDOR 
Vol. XV 
Other fielfl. His interest centers first in the animal. He cannot avoid painting 
a portrait, whether of Caribou. Antelope, or Cougar, and his subject dominates 
or overrides a scene of immortal beauty. If vre could spare him from the field 
of illustration, he could speedily escape from this manneri.sm. But can we so 
spare him ? Speaking selfishly, we certainly cannot until “The Birds of Califor- 
nia” is completed, for the task has become a sacred responsibility which no one 
else can so well meet as he. 
In making strong claims for our western champion, I do not mean to over- 
look or disparage the work of that veteran bird-artist, Louis Agassiz Fuertes, of 
whom Brooks himself has the very highest opinion. These men are of the same 
“order of magnitude.” Fuertes’ work is bolder and more masterful, as he is un- 
doubtedly the better draughtsman. Brooks’s work is, perhaps, more subtle, re- 
strained and finished. The former inclines to hardness of treatment, especially in 
his backgrounds, while the latter errs, if at all, in vanishing delicacies. Both 
of them so habitually amaze and delight us that we exclaim ten times to once 
we criticise. 
Of Brooks the man I shall find it difficult to speak with a restrained en- 
thusiasm. In the first place, our artist is thoroughly English, not atrociously, but 
naturally and delightfully so. In physical appearance he is a trifle under the aver- 
age stature, but well-set-up and elastic withal. His hair is light and tends to 
l)aldness, while his countenance, which rather inclines to the florid, expresses at 
once modesty, geniality, and an innocence which is absence of guile rather than 
lack of savoir fairc. A few wrinkles about the eyes show that the man has 
been much out of doors as well as that he is past forty. 
Truth to tell, I had pictured my lion with a little more of the stamp of the 
woods upon him (we met him for the first time in Seattle in December, 1909), 
and was quite prepared to pardon a little ignorance of the convenances, some 
degree of uncouthness even, but it rc(iuired but a moment to perceive that Brooks 
was a perfect gentleman. His courtesy is no studied attainment, but is based 
alike on native generosity and the careful breeding of many generations. The soul 
of courtesy is unselfishness. The self-forgetful man is better equi])ped to appear 
in society than the carefully drilled person whose mask-strings are likely to break 
under unexpected strain. Brooks was born to the purple, and thirty years of 
woodcraft have not unsettled his claim. 
As I had known by long correspondence, modesty is Brooks’s most con- 
spicuous trait. (Modesty such as his may be a handicap, undoubtedly has been 
in the way of business success, but it is a grace of character of the rarest sort. 
There is no affectation about Brooks’s. It reacts spontaneously, gushingly, when- 
ever self is touched. Such a mental state is fortunately unconquerable. It 
simplv refuses to believe half the good words said of it, and humbly tries to be 
worthy of the other half. 
Brooks’s modesty, however, will bear analysis. It is no mere fear of men 
on the one hand, nor unreasoning self-distrustfulness on the other. It comes 
rather from a clear vision of high ideals, high ideals of art, of conduct, and 
of scientific attainment, before which those who are wise are always humble, 
llrooks knows what he can do, and he does it rapidly, unassumingly, and uner- 
ringly. Or if he makes mistakes, he is the very first to acknowledge them. 
All the more surprising is the man’s unfailing modesty, in view of his 
breadth and versatility of interest and accomplishment. I knew Brooks was up 
on birds, and I presumed that he was somewhat versed in mammalogy, but when 
some one asked him how many mice there were in Chilliwack, and he rattled off 
