USA > New Hampshire > To Monadnock; the records of a mountain in New Hampshire through three centuries > Part 11
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At times I sat in July's fiercest ray, Until the solid heat had fairly flayed Me in her crucible, and the small cisterns Where the good mother kept my royal purl Had gone to air. Each night renews the waste; And still each morn the cold pellucid bath With faith revives the fainting soul, and forth I step elate upon my chosen path, Snatching the dewy fragrance of the hour. Then in the happy sunlight, and the first Of all those endless hours we name July, What chosen beauty gleams among the copse While each lovely tree welcomes its snow-bird ! This his summer-home: his graceful trill,
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Perpetually fresh, delights the ear From spruce to spruce; and the quick glimmering Of his slaty tail (snow-white its circle) Sends out most cheerful omens to the eye. ..
And now the blaze, uplifting in the breeze, Shows the mute figures. . , those undaunted maids, Vigorous and swift as the lithe Indian girls Who in the natural ages sought our rocks. . . Alertly swift, they mount in earliest dawn The dim sierra's point, and Persian there Like Oromazdi's tribe or Mexic priest ; Wait the approaching day on those cold heights, Clear as the early hour, and with the hues Of blushing morn caught on their Indian cheeks; Sometimes I see them, standing silent, grace The rounded rock like statues framed by art For worship in these deserts; sometimes hear Their vigilant step, quick speeding home To raise the fragrant steam, excite the urn, Or, drawn from India's shore, the gleaming rice Responsive boil. Oh! with much patience With superior views they frequent strive, As the cool western breeze, courteously devout, Salutes the other cheek, and with soft grace Confers his smoky offering to the orb Of the delighted worshipper of pan and pot Who by her tears proves how sincerely strong May be a spruce's blessing.
I might deem That rarely yet had royal hall more seat, Richer supply of furniture produced,
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WILLIAM ELLERY CHANNING [1871]
Rococo or inlaid, and what more light The Renaissance supplied. The tables, rock; The chairs carved of the like; and so the floor, For matutinal or vespernal rite.
And truly nobler ceiling was not framed Than all that dome of heaven above our heads, Dappling afar the lazy afternoons O'er twice a hundred valleys; or, intent To march upon our banquet, seven wild showers In misty columns making for the plates. And much supply of couches spread along. Behold the Mountain's floor! protend your robe, Caoutchouc's glory and the woolly friend, And lumped therein secure fast on your rock In some sharp crevice where the cornel paints Immenser scarlet and more smashing reds Than gorgeous Turner's palette, drop thy bones; Soothed by the spruces murmuring in thy ear, The ever-rising, ever-falling sigh Of the perpetual air, and with the night, Reserved companion, cool and sparsely clad, Dream, till the threefold hour with lowly voice Steals whispering in thy frame, "Rise valiant youth ! The dawn draws on apace, envious of thee, And polar in his gait: advance thy limbs, Nor strive to heat the stones."
And those great days, And splendid on the hills, when the wild winds Forever sweep the cloud (at once re-formed From off the plateau's slope) and at a breath Uplift the sunlit valleys sweet with morn,
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The hamlet's homely grange, the dappling shades Thrown from the sultry clouds that sail its heaven ; And in a second instant, the wild mist [s] Instantly obscure, the valley vanishes, Gone as a flitting vision from the skies, And by our camp the spruce in brightest green Laughs at our brigand jackets shining wet. And night, that eateth up substantial things, Leads us strange dances o'er the chopping shelves, Down bosky slide and gravitating cliff, Where we go plunging madly for our lives, All safe divisions, paths and tracks foregone ; And balances we strike, and learn the rule That downward motion soon appears reversed. . .
Thrice I essayed afar that eastern spur Where the rude torrents of primeval rock, Stripped from their canvas, toss in grandeur vast, A pile tremendous, where four Doric shafts Upreared in chaos, front the eager sky, Graced with an architrave, so that no art Could more sublime their glory. . . And next we skirted that supinest swamp Flowered with the pure white bolls of cotton-grass, Where the decaying frames of the old trees, I scarcely know how sprouting from the rocks (Home of the wildcat and the panther's house), Lay prostrate, wrecks of the fiery storm. . . Then eastward, As I yet pursued that way, last coming 'To the sheer untrammeled precipice that hangs Forever wall against the small romance,- The steading small, the little human nook
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WILLIAM ELLERY CHANNING [1871]
With its three speaking roofs, some pastoral smoke Soft issuing from those hearths, a token glad Sent to the laughing children leaving school And the tanned ploughman, as he homeward stalks, Ached to the bone and ragged as the wolf That preys upon his vitals; soothed he sees. . .
And once we built our fortress where you see Yon group of spruce trees, sidewise on the line Where the horizon to the eastward bounds,- A point selected by sagacious art, Where all at once we viewed the Vermont hills And the long outlines of the mountain ridge, Ever renewing, changeful every hour; And, sunk below us in that lowland world, The lone farm-steading where the bleaching cloth, Small spot of white, lay out upon the lawn. Behind, smooth walls of rock, and trees each side Sifting the blast two ways; and on the south Our wigwam opened, showing in its length That flattened haystack or repeated hill, Wachusett! . .
And the young stars- The glittering Pleides and Orion's crest Or she who holds the chair, Cassiopeia, Or swift Boötes driving from the north, And the red flame of war, the torrid Mars- Oft added to our strange society On those religious nights when all the air That lingered on the rocks was fragrant with a flower Not of that lowland kind. Then flit abroad Dim figures on the solitary stones.
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TO MONADNOCK
Almost I see the figure of my friend Scaling the height, or running o'er the slabs ; I hear his call for which I listened long; His fresh response, as swift I shouted back, Echoes in the space; see his light form Bound o'er the dark crevasse, or thread the slide Where never from the year deserts the ice.
Stay! 'twas a shadow fluttering off the past, A multiplex of dreams. . .
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1872 TO THE END OF THE CENTURY
OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES [1872]
From The Poet at the Breakfast Table (1872), by Oliver Wendell Holmes, Houghton Mifflin Company, publishers.
.. . The Grand Monadnock, a mountain in New Hampshire which I have myself seen from the top of Bunker Hill Monu- ment.
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SUMMER TRAVELS IN A PHAETON [1872]
From 14,000 Miles: a Carriage and Two Women (1906) by Frances S. Howe of Leominster, Mass. Published by courtesy of the author.
In the summer of 1872 we two, and ladies at that, made our trial trip, with the consent and approval of family friends for our encouragement, and the misgivings and fears of those out- side to inspire us with caution. Tramps were not in fashion, and I have forgotten what was the terror of those days. . . We were equipped with a pet horse-safe, but with no lack of spirit-a roomy phaeton, with lunch basket, wraps, books, fancy work and writing materials all at hand. Our bags, with rub- ber coverings, were strapped underneath the carriage. Some cautious reader may like to know that we did not forget to put in the "box" a wrench, a bottle of oil, strong cord, etc., for emergencies. Of course we had a map, for geography was not taught very practically in our school days, and we should be lost without one. We made no definite plans beyond the first day, but had vaguely in mind, if all went well, to drive through the valley of the Connecticut River.
Our first day's ride took us around Wachusett. We did not delay to climb its woody slopes, for we had many times visited our little mountain, and knew its charms by heart. It was new scenes we were seeking, and we were eagerly anticipating the drive along the Connecticut, fancying that much more beauti- ful and romantic than the familiar hills. It was not until we reached the hot, sandy roads, and were surrounded by tobacco fields, with rarely a glimpse of the river, that we realized that valleys are most enjoyable when seen from the hill-tops. The peculiar charm of the view from Mt. Holyoke we can never forget. A picture like that of the Northampton meadows, with
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the silvery river winding through them, we have found on no other hill or mountain-top.
If this trial journey had proved our last, we should like to recall it in detail; but, as it has been succeeded by others more extended, we must hastily pass by the novelty of our first cross- ing the Connecticut by ferry, the historic points of interest in old Deerfield, the terrific thunder-storm just after we left Green- field, the Broad Brook drive as we neared Brattleboro, the pro- fuse quantity of lovely maidenhair ferns by the roadside, drip- ping with the morning rain, our lunch on the shore of Lake Spofford, and so on to Keene and Jaffrey.
How can we so hastily pass over the ascent of grand old Monadnock? Perhaps we enjoyed it all the more for the repeated protests of the youthful proprietor of the Mountain House, who assured us the feat was impossible, as the heavy showers which we had so much enjoyed in our morning drive had converted the path into a series of cascades. The mists which had entirely concealed the mountain were just breaking away, and we made the ascent in the face of warnings and water, yielding to no obstacles. Before we left the summit it was mostly clear, and we thought little of our moist condition or the difficulties of the descent before us as we feasted our eyes, watching the showers as they moved on from village to village in the valley below, leaving a burst of sunlight in their wake. Our descent was rapid, notwithstanding difficulties, and when we reached the hotel, so delightfully located on the side of the mountain, we forthwith decided to prolong our stay. After a cosy supper, for we were the only guests, we repaired to the rocks to watch the sunset clouds, which are rarely finer. It was mild, and we lingered while the darkness gathered, until the mountain looked so black and lonely we did not like to think we had stood on that peak alone only a few hours before.
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TO MONADNOCK
While we watched, the clouds began to brighten, and soon the moon appeared in her full glory, making the whole scene one of indescribable beauty. The next day was Sunday, and a lovelier day never dawned. The peculiar Sunday quiet pervaded the very atmosphere, and we sat on the rocks reading, writing and musing all day, enjoying such a season of rest as one seldom experiences.
Two more days passed and we were safe at home, after an absence of only ten days, and about two hundred miles' driving, but with delightful recollections which cannot be forgotten in a lifetime.
JAFFREY AND MONADNOCK, 1873
From A Poem by Miss Mary Belle Fox of Jaffrey, N. H., read by the Rev. Rufus Case at the centennial celebration of the incorporation of the town of Jaffrey August 20, 1873. History of the Town of Jaffrey by Daniel B. Cutter, M.D., 1881.
But what, Monadnock ! shall we say Of thee, thou dear to every heart That knew thee in its childhood's day, Ere life from nature grew apart ? . .
Grand mayst thou seem to strangers' eyes, And strangers' tongues thy praises sing; We hold thee in our memories,
And love thee like a human thing.
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CONTOOCOOK RIVER [1878?]
The text of this poem, by Edna Dean Proctor, is taken from The Granite Monthly of September 1899, with the permission of The Granite Monthly. An earlier version of the poem was published in The Granite Monthly for November 1878, with the following note: "This poem is from Light at Even- tide, a paper made up of contributions from New Hamp- shire authors and writers of note, and published in aid of the 'Home for the Aged,' a charitable institution projected at Concord." A memorial edition of Miss Proctor's collected verse will be published by Houghton Mifflin Company in the fall of 1925.
Of all the streams that seek the sea By mountain pass or sunny lea, Now where is one that dares to vie With clear Contoocook, swift and shy? Monadnock's child, of snow-drifts born, The snows of many a winter morn And many a midnight dark and still, Heaped higher, whiter, day by day, To melt, at last, with suns of May, And steal, in tiny fall and rill, Down the long slopes of granite gray ; Or filter slow through seam and cleft When frost and storm the rock have reft, To bubble cool in sheltered springs Where the lone red-bird dips his wings, And the tired fox that gains their brink Stoops, safe from hound and horn, to drink. And rills and springs, grown broad and deep, Unite through gorge and glen to sweep In roaring brooks that turn and take The over-floods of pool and lake,
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Till, to the fields, the hills deliver Contoocook's bright and brimming river ! O have you seen from Hillsboro' town How fast its tide goes hurrying down, With rapids now, and now a leap Past giant boulders, black and steep, Plunged in mid water, fain to keep Its current from the meadows green ? But, flecked with foam, it speeds along; And not the birch-tree's silvery sheen, Nor the soft lull of murmuring pines, Nor hermit thrushes, fluting low, Nor ferns, nor cardinal flowers that glow Where clematis, the fairy, twines, Nor bowery islands where the breeze Forever whispers to the trees,
Can stay its course, or still its song ;
Ceaseless it flows till, round its bed, The vales of Henniker are spread, Their banks all set with golden grain, Or stately trees whose vistas gleam- A double forest-in the stream ; And, winding 'neath the pine-crowned hill That overhangs the village plain,
By sunny reaches, broad and still, It nears the bridge that spans its tide- The bridge whose arches low and wide It ripples through-and should you lean A moment there, no lovelier scene On England's Wye or Scotland's Tay Would charm your gaze a summer's day. O of what beauty 'tis the giver- Contoocook's bright and brimming river!
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CONTOOCOOK RIVER [1878 ?]
And on it glides, by grove and glen, Dark woodlands, and the homes of men, With calm and meadow, fall and mill; Till, deep and clear, its waters fill The channels round that gem of isles Sacred to captives' woes and wiles, And eager half, half eddying back, Blend with the lordly Merrimack ; And Merrimack whose tide is strong, Rolls gently with its waves along Monadnock's stream that, coy and fair, Has come, its larger life to share, And to the sea doth safe deliver Contoocook's bright and brimming river.
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JAFFREY TOWN RESERVATION ON MONADNOCK, 1884
The two deeds by which the Town of Jaffrey came into this reservation on Monadnock, together with the deed of war- ranty of July 13, 1784, are recorded in the Court House at Keene, N. H.
Know all men by these presents that we, Francis J. Parker of Newton, County of Middlesex and State of Massachusetts, and Mary M. Greene of Jaffrey, in the County of Cheshire and State of New Hampshire, being lawful heirs of Laban Ains- worth of said Jaffrey, for and in consideration of the sum of five dollars to us paid by the Town of Jaffrey, the receipt whereof we do hereby acknowledge, have remised, released and forever quitclaimed and do by these presents remise, release and forever quitclaim unto the said grantee and its successors and assigns forever, all our right, title and interest in and to lots No. 5 and 6 in the 2nd range of lots in said Town of Jaffrey, being a part of the premises conveyed to Laban Ainsworth by Joseph Wilder, Constable, by his deed of warranty dated July 13th, 1784. . .
Witness our hand and seals this sixteenth day of June, Anno Domini one thousand, eight hundred and eighty-four.
[On September 12, 1884, by a similar deed and in considera- tion of a like sum, two other heirs of Laban Ainsworth made over their rights in these same lots to the Town of Jaffrey. They were Isabella G. Oviatt of South Sudbury, and Edith E. Stedman of Boston, Massachusetts. The Jaffrey Town Reser- vation extends over 200 acres just south of the summit of Mo- nadnock. Nearly all of the trail up the mountain from the Halfway House, and the last half of the Red Cross Trail, lie within its area. East and southeast of this reservation lies the
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JAFFREY TOWN RESERVATION, 1884
State Forest reservation (see post, Monadnock State Forest, 1905-). To its north and northeast is the Masonian Reserva- tion, continued by the Derby Woods, both of which are in the hands of the Society for Protection of New Hampshire Forests (see post, 1913- and 1917). To its south, and west of the State Forest, is a reservation of 100 acres, purchased in May 1925 by the Society for Protection of New Hampshire Forests, through contributions by Dr. William Emerson.]
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THE FLORA OF MOUNT MONADNOCK [1885]
The following article, by William H. Stone (Appalachia, July 1885), supplements Thoreau's review of the plants of the mountain (supra, 1860).
On the sides of the mountain the dark conical spruces arise among the lighter deciduous trees or, by themselves, impart to great patches their sombre hue. As the trees grow higher on the mountain, they decrease in size, until finally the forest dis- appears, leaving a wilderness of bare or lichen-covered rocks, with only scanty soil in the hollows and fissures. On this barren, wind-swept tract, extending a mile or two along the mountain-ridge and elevated three thousand feet, more or less, above the sea, there is a flora that is at once seen to differ, either in the species which it comprises or in the peculiarities of its plants, from that of the surrounding country.
It is said that the top of Monadnock was formerly covered with a stunted forest growth, and that this was destroyed by fires that have run over the mountain. Nature has not been able to rehabilitate this sky-land. The extreme summit of the mountain is treeless, and there are no trees of any considerable height above the forest; but scattered over the tract under con- sideration are clumps of mountain-ash, and some spruces and paper birches. But the last two present a marked contrast to the beautiful trees of the same species in the lower forest. The spruces increase in size and number until they mingle with the forest below. Here they often take very peculiar forms. Instead of having the tapering, symmetrical shape which this species usually assumes, they are dwarfed and often half dead except for a few feet above the base, but close to the rocks throw out a most luxuriant growth horizontally. A tree that grows about a mile from the principal summit, on the long
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THE FLORA OF MONADNOCK [1885]
ridge that runs to the northeast, may serve for an illustration. From its position, the upper part of the tree is exposed to the full force of the winds that sweep over the mountain. The height of the tree is only about eighteen feet; but growing in a depres- sion among the rocks, its lower branches are sheltered from the winds and have made a very thrifty growth close to the ground, so as to form a dense carpet in the hollow, and measure thirty- six feet from tip to tip. Above these branches, the tree has only a moderate diameter, and is partly dead. Another tree is only about three feet in height, but covers a circle nearly eight feet in diameter. The paper birch rises only a few feet, but throws out branches near the base, and forms a dense head. Before the leafing, were it not for the characteristic bark, one would be unlikely to recognize these misshapen and stunted trees as members of the graceful birch family.
Emerson well calls this mountain-peak
"That barren cone Above the floral zone, Where forest starve."
And yet, excepting some spots of reddish gravel apparently washed bare by the rains, such soil as has accumulated in the fissures and depressions among the rocks is densely covered quite to the summit with flowering plants,-and with plants, too, some of which bear most beautiful flowers. One climbing the mountain about the first of June might be surprised to find this mountain-top, that from below looks so bare and desolate, bright with such great masses of a beautiful purple flower as would be no discredit to the fairest garden. Very beautiful they are, growing among the wild gray crags. The plant is the rhodora, a low shrub, with rose-purple flowers resembling in form those of the purple azalea so common in swamps in some parts of New England. It is confined to mountains and
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swamps, and damp cold woods. It here grows only a foot or two in height, and bears its flowers in little tufts, at the ends of the branches, just as the leaves are coming forth, and is afterward covered with purplish pods. It is very abundant, and may be found on the very summit of the mountain. While the rhodora is in blossom on the top of the mountain, the pretty white flowers of the common choke-berry cover large patches in the pastures below the Mountain House; and gradually the bloom climbs the sides of the mountain till it quite reaches the summit. This little shrub, which on the top of the mountain seldom attains the height of more than a foot, though growing from two to five feet high at lower elevations, is widely spread over the mountain.
But "Cheshire's haughty hill" seems to reserve some of its gayest bloom for those who climb to its summit on the anni- versary of our national independence. Potentilla tridentata and Kalmia angustifolia are then in flower. The first, the three-toothed cinque-foil, may be recognized by any one by the two very conspicuous notches at the apex of each small and otherwise entire wedge-shaped leaflet. It is a humble little plant, rising here only an inch or two above the soil before flowering. It is to be found on the coast of New England, and on mountain-tops from the Alleghanies northward. Rooting, as it does, in cracks in the rocks into which it would be scarcely possible to thrust a knife-blade, it seems peculiarly fitted for bare mountain-tops and wild crags. One notes the fitness of things when he finds this little plant growing on the edge of that stupendous precipice standing at the head of the White Mountain Notch. Its star-like, snow-white flowers are borne on stems rising six inches or less. Blossoming everywhere on the top of the mountain, its flowers, infinite in number, are very noticeable against the dark rocks. The other plant is the
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THE FLORA OF MONADNOCK [1885]
sheep-laurel, so common in pastures and on hillsides. It is to be found from Hudson's Bay to Georgia. On the mountain its rose-red flowers form a striking contrast with the white blos- soms of the cinque-foil. In the spring its leaves, which persist through the winter, have a soft brown color; and large masses of this plant are then very noticeable on the upper slopes of the mountain, and quite pleasing in contrast with the dark gray rocks.
Neither the cinque-foil nor the laurel continues long in blossom; and there is no more very conspicuous bloom on the upper parts of the mountain until autumn. Together with some grass, the four species that have been mentioned,-rho- dora, choke-berry, cinque-foil and laurel,-with dwarf blue- berries and the cow-berry, constitute by far the greater part of the vegetation over the "bald" of the mountain. The cow- berry (Vaccinium Vitis-Idæa) is described by George B. Emer- son in his "Trees and Shrubs of Massachusetts" as follows: "This plant, so far as I know, occurs in only one spot in Massachusetts, which is in a pasture in Danvers, where it was found by Mr. Oakes in 1820 or before. It has some resem- blance to the cranberry; but the leaves are larger, and the branches larger and shorter. It has a creeping, woody root, with ascending angular branches a foot or more long. The leaves are coriaceous and shining, like those of the box, but darker. The flowers are pale pink, four-cleft, and with eight
stamens. The berries are blood-red, acid, and austere. In the north of Europe, where it abounds, it is used as the cran- berry, but is inferior." In New England it is confined almost exclusively to the higher mountains. On Monadnock it is seldom to be met with except in the vicinity of the summit, where it often forms dense carpets in the hollows among the rocks, and rises only two or three inches above the soil. Its
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leaves are evergreen, and for most of the season no other plant there is so likely to attract the attention.
Perhaps the most interesting plants on the mountain are the Greenland, or mountain, sandwort (Arenaria Grænlandica), and the Labrador tea (Ledum latifolium). Both are to be found only sparingly. The first is a little tufted plant, with thread- like stems and leaves and pretty white flowers. It is an arctic plant ; Dr. Kane found it growing at Upernavik, five hundred miles beyond the Arctic Circle. It continues in blossom from spring or early summer until autumn. On the top of Mt. Washington, where it occurs in comparative abundance, it has been found in bloom on the 11th of March. It is there called by the hotel people the mountain daisy. It grows on the summits of all the higher mountains of New England. The Labrador tea is a strange-looking plant. It is an evergreen shrub, and has the under, concave sides of the thick leaves, and the new shoots, densely covered with rust-colored wool. In the early summer it bears white flowers crowded in terminal clusters. In New England it is to be found only in cold bogs and on mountains, but grows in all the countries north of us. On Monadnock it is quite abundant in a little swamp southeast of the summit, where it rises eight or nine inches from deep beds of moss. In Labrador its leaves serve as a substitute for tea ; and Thoreau's Indian guide in the Maine woods told him that the Indians there used it for the same purpose.
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