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diff --git a/76616-0.txt b/76616-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..bef15dd --- /dev/null +++ b/76616-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3866 @@ + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76616 *** + + + + + + _The_ Giant Sequoia + + AN ACCOUNT OF THE HISTORY AND CHARACTERISTICS + OF THE BIG TREES OF CALIFORNIA + + BY + RODNEY SYDES ELLSWORTH + + WITH TWELVE FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS + + [Illustration] + + J. D. BERGER + OAKLAND, CALIFORNIA + 1924 + + + COPYRIGHT, 1924, + BY RODNEY SYDES ELLSWORTH + + +[Illustration: THE SUN WORSHIPPERS + + Only at sunset does the Sequoia lose its dignity to become a thing + of beauty + + MARIPOSA GROVE Photo by H. S. Hoyt] + + + +To My Grandmother+ + + + _A living thing, + Produced too slowly to decay, + Of form and aspect too magnificent + To be destroyed._ + + —+Wordsworth.+ + + + + + PREFACE + + +That imposing calm which the great Sequoia of the Sierra Nevada exerts +over many came to be individually impressed upon the author during a +summer’s residence in the Mariposa Grove two years ago. Indeed, it +was the persistence of this spell that made him wish to know more +about this noble tree and caused him to inquire into its literary and +scientific associations. These studies at length stimulated another +desire—that of making the gist of the scattered and heterogeneous mass +of material, ranging from popular rhapsodies to scientific treatises, +available and accessible to all. + +It was likewise the author’s ambition to effect a symmetrical +presentation if possible of both the popular and the scientific aspects +of the subject. Hence, the rhapsodies have been robbed of their purple +and the treatises have been faintly touched with imagination to make +them possess an interest for the general reader. By this it must not be +presumed that gravity and fidelity have been neglected. They have been +preserved throughout. + +This book has been written primarily for the good of the greatest +number. It is not by a botanist for botanists, but by a tree-lover for +tree-lovers. And if from its pages there emanates, however faintly, +something of the inspiring and enobling presence of the Giant Sequoia, +the author will not have dusted off many an old volume and entertained +himself with an examination of its contents in vain. + +The author is greatly indebted to Miss Cristel Hastings for her +untiring aid in the preparation of the manuscript. He also wishes +to extend gratitude to Mr. William T. Amis, who has rendered much +invaluable assistance and counsel. Hearty thanks are due various +Professors of the University of California from whom the author as a +student and friend has received many helpful criticisms and suggestions. + + +Rodney Sydes Ellsworth.+ + + Berkeley, California, + April 17, 1924. + + + + + CONTENTS + + + +Part One+ + + SEQUOIAS OF YESTERDAY AND TODAY + + I—+The Auld Lang Syne of Trees+ 13 + + II—+The Glory of the Mountains of California+ 23 + + + +Part Two+ + + GIANT SEQUOIAS OF THE MARIPOSA GROVE + + III—+Galen Clark+ 35 + + IV—+Wonder Trees+ 59 + + V—+Oldest of Living Things+ 89 + + VI—+The Eternal Tree+ 102 + + VII—+A Blossom of Decadence+ 115 + + + +Part Three+ + + NAMING OF THE SEQUOIA + + VIII—+A Name for the Ages+ 127 + + IX—+Sequoyah+ 134 + + +Bibliography+ 159 + + + + + LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + + + The Sun Worshippers Frontispiece + + In the Court of the Giants 24 + + Galen Clark 40 + + Galen Clark Tree 48 + + The Cabin 64 + + Telescope Tree 72 + + Wawona Tree 80 + + Fallen Monarch 96 + + Grizzly Giant 104 + + Alabama Tree 120 + + Sequoyah 136 + + The Invincible Sequoia 144 + + + + + PART ONE + + Sequoias _of_ Yesterday + _and_ Today + + + +Chapter I+ + + THE AULD LANG SYNE OF TREES + + +The Sequoia is nature’s most magnificent endowment. King of trees, +it has no rival in size the world over, nor is it approached among +living things in age. Noblest of all conifers, it has the grandeur of +granite and the solemnity of marble. Venerable in aspect, it savors of +great antiquity, seeming always to wrap itself in the memories of the +past. So striking, indeed, is this feature of its appearance that the +intellectual traveler often wonders if its race has played a grander +part in the past. Is it a living survivor of an extinct age of monsters? + +Time was, and not long ago, when such a question bearing on the +antiquity of the Sequoia would have been lightly considered. Now, +however, mankind is not altogether satisfied with things as they are, +but is mindful of how they came to be so, and the ceaseless searches +of science are unveiling the mysteries of the past. The spade unearths +a coin whose imprint betrays the beliefs or customs, the finish +or crudeness, of an ancient civilization. The discovery of a clay +tablet, the uncovering of a ruined temple or a forgotten tomb, sheds +fresh light upon the history of a people. Bit by bit the evidence +accumulates, and as the vision of the past becomes less dim science is +better able to conjure up before the mental eye the imposing pageants +of a world that has passed away. + +Shakespeare calls the world a stage. The allusion, though, is confined +to men and women. But as the scientist views the great earth-drama +that has been enacted throughout the ages he sees a far more extensive +application of this thought. To him “the races of the children of +life” are the players, by reason of the fact that all life has been +superseded by more complex and more highly evolved forms. Indeed, for +millions of years countless multitudes of living creatures have played +their little parts on this earthly stage and have gone their way into +oblivion. The majority have left as little record as the autumn leaves +that drift by the wayside. These are the so-called “lost creations.” +Yet a sufficient number have been preserved for the later instruction +and delight of man. “Everything,” observed Emerson, “in nature tends to +write its own history. The planet and the pebble are attended by their +shadows, the rolling rock leaves its furrows on the mountainside, the +river its channel in the soil, the animal its bone in the stratum, the +fern its modest epitaph in the coal.” + +These remains filed away in the archives of nature’s great storehouse +constitute the record of the rocks. And as science reconstructs a +civilization of yesterday from its rude implements, in a similar manner +it interprets the mute meaning of these fossils in the rocks. The dry +bones and empty footprints are given animation and pictured as they +are supposed to have been when alive. Great flying reptiles, called +_pterodactyls_, with an enormous wingspread of twenty-five feet, have +fallen into Miocene seas and have been entombed with the leaves and +muds of their shallow bottoms. Huge reptiles, called _dinosaurs_, have +stalked across the mud-flats of primeval lakes, leaving their broad +footprints in the oozy surface. The tide has come in and gently covered +the impression with a fine sediment and preserved it forever. Further +deposits of sediment have accumulated and the whole become submerged, +until, under constant pressure, they have been compacted into rock and +in the course of time have been raised again to dry land. + +The record of the rocks discloses the fact that the Sequoia flourished +on the earth when these dragons of old time and their weird kin +inhabited it. Its forests extended over three continents and it blessed +with its shade these creatures more strange and huge than the earth +has since borne. Under its high, arching columns _dinosaurs_ took toll +of all that could be conquered. Within sight of its imposing forests +others, equally formidable, wallowed in shallow seas, while overhead +soared _pterodactyls_, neither bats nor birds, but giant lizards that +had acquired the power of flight. + +This was millions of years ago. It was during the middle period of +life, or, what geologists term the Miocene. It was before the advent +of fur and feathers—aeons, almost, before man’s coming. In point +of time the antiquity of all living things on earth today is of a +recent yesterday when compared to the antiquity of the Sequoia. The +frail tenure of human works is as but a thousand years amid eternity; +nothing; a mockery. + +The pick of the fossil hunter has unearthed fossil remains of Sequoia +leaves and cones in strata as early as the _Triassic_. This period +represents the morning of reptilian life and is the first of three +great ages of the Miocene. At its advent moving life had already safely +crossed the border-line of its dependence on water for existence and +had succeeded, slowly and laboriously, in invading dry land. Hence, the +Sequoia as a race has a claim to almost fabulous antiquity. + +Memorials of the Sequoia’s ancestry are more abundant in the rocks +of the two succeeding periods of the Miocene, the _Jurassic_ and the +_Cretaceous_. Under the lava flows of Mt. Shasta imprints of its leaves +and cones are found. This is indubitable evidence that the Sequoia +existed in California at that time. Fossil remains have also been found +in localities ranging from “France and Hungary to Spitzbergen and from +Greenland to Oregon and Nebraska.” These stratified remains offer +positive proof that the Sequoia was a great genus covering the entire +Northern Hemisphere and that the now desolate Arctic regions, which +were then warm, were luxuriant with many of its species. In short, the +Sequoia was one of the chief garments of the earth’s vegetation during +Miocene times. Its forests must have been the most imposing the earth +has ever known. Truly, they were the forests primeval. + +It is not a little remarkable that the Sequoia was in existence even +before the very mountains which are enobled today by its presence. The +vagaries of mutability have been such that it was actually present on +earth during the genesis of the Sierra Nevada and saw this range lifted +to its place in the sun. Indeed, the eternality of the hills is a +misnomer, for mountains have their birth and their youth, their old age +and their obliteration. Like successions of living forms they have had +their entrance and exit on this terrestrial stage. + +During the early period of the Miocene, that country which lay between +the Rockies and the Pacific was a flat plain of low relief, with +meandering streams and vague divides. Occasional rounded hills broke +the monotony of this plain. These were but the abraded stumps of a +pre-existing mountain mass—the ruins of mountains that had been. About +_Jurassic_ time a general disturbance occurred in the present region +of the Sierra Nevada. This was accompanied by an intrusion of a vast +body of molten rock which, when solidified, became the granite of the +Sierra. During the _Cretaceous_ the entire region between the Rockies +and the Pacific again awoke and began to bulge at slow and intermittent +intervals. The Sierra block had its origin during one of these +upheavals and acquired a slight westward slant. + +During the age that gave man to the world, the Sierra was uplifted to +the light. About the dawn of the _Quaternary_, the last of the great +divisions of geological time, the greatest manifestation of Sierra +mountain building took place. This convulsion of the earth hoisted the +snowy range to its present sublime elevation. + +Following this upheaval came an age of ice. It is to this period that +Yosemite Valley owes its glaciation. In fact, the present indefinable +charm and fierce grandeur of the High Sierra are legacies of this reign +of ice. However, the glaciation of the Sierra must not be correlated +with the continental glaciations which ushered in the age succeeding +the Miocene. The former glaciation is “more properly to be regarded as +corresponding to the very last episode of that long and varied chapter +in the geological history of the continent,” states Lawson. Though +the final uplift of the Sierra block is a long time past as years go, +geologically speaking it is not remote. Indeed, the Sierra Nevada might +“safely be placed among the young and giddy mountains of our planet.” +From the comparative point of view, on the other hand, the waste of +years that have elapsed since the Sequoia first waved its magnificent +evergreen dome toward the heavens is bewildering. + +Impressive as the evolution of the Sierra must have been, few of the +dramas of the earth which science has restored are more wonderful +than the restriction of the Sequoia exclusively to the mountains of +California. The record of the rocks following the great Age of Reptiles +tells quite a different story. With amazing abruptness all the rich +diversity of reptilian life apparently ceased. Some change seems to +have occurred, blotting it out forever, for not a scrap of evidence +remains of its continued existence. The _dinosaurs_ are no more; the +_pterodactyls_ have vanished. A new type of life, that of the mammal, +now holds dominion over the earth. Most astounding of all, the Sequoia +still carries on, even to the present day—living survivor of the Age of +Reptiles. + +Authorities are not agreed concerning the causes that led to the +extinction of the reptiles. Science still ponders over the mystery. A +feature so extraordinary seems to demand an unusual explanation. Causes +of a violent cataclysmic nature are advanced as valid interpretations. +Yet science refuses to take cognizance of universal calamities and +considers them as apocryphal because they are too unnatural. Climatic +conditions, in the main, are probably responsible, for it is upon +climate that the wealth or poverty of life on the globe depends. That +which was a land of comfort, of abundant food, and of continual summer +may have become, through a process of alternate haste and deliberation, +a land of long winters, of bitterness and hardship. The good days +of the world were exchanged for hard times, and those who could +not survive were gathered to their forefathers. This, together with +volcanic eruptions which took place on a stupendous scale, followed by +glaciations of continental extent, apparently conspired in the ultimate +undoing of reptilian life. These causes, in all likelihood, are +responsible also for the shrinking of the majestic Sequoian woodlands +to a mere fragment of their ancient, vast extent. + +About the end of the Miocene the earth became intensely active. In +its agitation some of its seething interior was exuded to the surface +in a deluge of lava. At the same time fountains of molten rocks shot +up from volcanoes, causing the heavens to rain fire about them, and +sifting ashes afar over the earth. Rivers and lakes floated up in +immense clouds of steam over which the blazing beacons suffused weird +colorings—lights and shades of an inferno that not even the pen of a +Dante would have the temerity to attempt to describe. A land of beauty +had become filled with forms of the gloomiest and ghostliest grandeur. +The great _dinosaurs_ looked with disquietude upon it all. Unable, by +reason of their cumbersomeness, to migrate to a gentler clime, they +stoically awaited their doom. The _pterodactyls_, terrified, fluttered +to the ground, flapping their great useless wings as the unearthly +flashes from the heavens fell upon them. The noble Sequoias, even +more impotent to make a retreat, held their ground until set afire or +enveloped in floods of molten lava. At length, having exhausted its +fury, this agent of wholesale ruin ceased as if stricken lifeless in +the midst of its maddest rioting, and the land became a far-stretching +waste out of which life had apparently gone forever. + +The unknown complex of causes which brought about the ice age that +followed probably completed extermination of the reptiles, and +it certainly brought the Sequoia, as a race, perilously near to +extinction. The temperature became too cold for life adapted to the +warm conditions of the Miocene age. As a result, reptilian life paled +and declined, until finally its feeble flame flickered out entirely +with the arrival of the glacial epoch. The vast amount of water that +had been vaporized during the volcanic eruptions returned to the earth +in the form of snow. This accumulated in such enormous quantities that +continents came to be white worlds where the vacant sky communed only +with the silent ice. Pulseless and cold, these vast continental ice +caps were as eloquent of death as were the fiery lava flows. Uncharted, +trackless seas of ice they were, with all traces of earthly travail +buried far beneath them. And a terrible solitude was the lord of this +universe. + +The scientific world is equally perplexed regarding the mysterious +chain of events that again caused the amelioration of climate. At +any rate, the warmth of summer gradually overtook the snows of +winter, and the ice wasted away. Like morning mist it vanished in +the sunshine. Lakes filled the yawning throats of volcanoes. Light +and beauty replaced ashes and death. Life, too, ebbed back from the +southland and conquered the desolation, filling the vacant world with +a glorious animation. But it was a different type of life that came. +Mammals instead of reptiles now held undisputed dominion. Of all the +rich diversity of life that flourished before the advent of the ordeal +of volcanic fire and the chilling empire of ice, apparently only the +Sequoia escaped utter destruction. + +It is this singular survival that prompted John Muir to write of the +Sequoia as a “tree which the friendly pines and firs seem to know +nothing about. Ancient of other days, it keeps you at a distance, +taking no notice of you, speaking only to the winds, thinking only +in the sky, looking as strange in aspect and behavior among the +neighboring trees as would the homely mastadon and hairy elephant among +the bears and deer. It belongs to an ancient stock and has a strange +air of other days about it, a thoroughbred look inherited from the long +ago—the auld lang syne of trees.” + + + + + +Chapter II+ + + THE GLORY OF THE MOUNTAINS OF CALIFORNIA + + +But two species of the genus Sequoia carry on the noble line in these +feeble times. Scions of a race whose ancestors extend into the depths +of the ages, they seem to be not a part of this puny world. Gigantic in +proportion, they are not unlike uncouth vestiges of another age when +all things were molded on a monstrous scale. Numbering their years by +thousands, they are an “unaccountable oversight” in a world where lives +are limited to the psalmist’s span of years, and where there is no +hope of gaining the length of days of Methuselah and his kin. Indeed, +they appear to be more like mysterious strangers from some far star +than solitary and lonely survivors in the midst of an unfamiliar new +age. Patiently accepting the part of on-lookers, they disdain to take +their place in the active ways of the world and continue to exist for +no apparent reason other than to preserve the pristine glory of their +ancestors lest it die with them and leave the coming years. + +Rarest of all tree species, these two survivors are the Giant Sequoia, +or _Sequoia gigantea_, and the Redwood, or _Sequoia sempervirens_. Both +are impressive in the mystery that hangs over their history. But it +is only this that they may be said to have in common. In almost every +other respect they are quite dissimilar. True, the Giant Sequoia is a +grander and more massive edition of the Redwood. However, the former +puts the latter in the shade as to girth, while the latter dwarfs the +former as to height. The Big Tree is unexceeded among trees in girth; +the Redwood probably outstrips all trees of the world in height. Rarely +does the Big Tree lift its towering column of verdure more than 280 +feet into the heavens. Yet it attains an amazing trunk diameter of 20 +to 27 feet well above its immense swollen base. The Redwood seldom +produces a trunk more than 15 feet in diameter and the average of the +larger trees range from 8 to 12 feet. Trees 280 feet high are not +altogether uncommon. Some even wave their evergreen crowns 340 dizzy +feet above the ground—truly a prodigious altitude for living shafts of +wood to attain. + +The Big Tree keeps its youth longer than any known tree and for this +reason is acclaimed the oldest living thing. Frequently it reaches as +great an age as 2,500 years. A few Giant Sequoias are known to have +passed their three thousandth year. Seemingly, this figure fails to +convey a satisfactory comprehension of the magnitude of such a great +age to the minds of popular writers. As a consequence, the age of this +grand tree has suffered unpardonable padding. Nevertheless, such +estimates are not conclusive and rest only on the speculative notions +of fanciful writers. The Redwood, on the other hand, while quite +noteworthy in longevity in the tree world, scarcely sees a thousand +summers. It must yield the palm in all honor to its greater cousin +which ranks first in age of all the worthies of the tree kingdom, and, +hence, in the world of living things. + +[Illustration: IN THE COURT OF THE GIANTS + + MARIPOSA GROVE Photo by H. S. Hoyt] + +The _Sequoia sempervirens_ is one of the most consummately beautiful +of trees. Its beauty is as rare and undefinable as the blue on the +mountains in the hour of twilight, as startling and lovely as a +flower-clad April, as charming and delightful as the notes of a melody +that the winds bear away. And yet beauty is its least perfection. All +the cheerful gayety, the contented peacefulness, the warm companionship +that are the chief glory of other trees, the Redwood, too, possesses. +It is one of the most lovable and friendly of trees. But there is +nothing rough or common about it, nothing coarse or voluptuous. To know +it is to know something that is genuine. To admire it is to be unable +to look upon it with the cold eye of a judge, but with the reverence of +a worshipper and the veneration of a child. + +The _Sequoia gigantea_ is formidable and sombre in aspect and +very often terrible to look upon. Impassive, unapproachable, +uncommunicative, it is the very autocrat of the forest. Godlike in +physiognomy, at times it is impossible to understand. It has a +loftiness of port, a dignity of bearing, a sublimity of energy that +command attention and win their way insensibly into the soul. Its +nature is as hard and flinty as the granite of the mountainside. But +in spite of all this highmightiness there is something forlorn and +pathetic, something sad and benign about it. All who know the pathos +in memories of days that are accomplished and faces that have vanished +will realize how replete this tree is with sadness and tenderness. +Grand though it is in the religious solemnity and silence that rest +upon it there is something pathetic about its very loneliness that +resembles sadness as mist resembles the rain. Assuredly, if the +_Sequoia sempervirens_ is the most lively and cheerful of trees, the +_Sequoia gigantea_ is the saddest and the grandest. + +If the Redwood be considered Grecian in its glory, the Giant Sequoia is +Roman in its grandeur. Both produce forests of giants. In one beauty +and grace held splendid court; in the other greatness and magnificence. +The one is Grecian in its idealism, so divine in its loftiness as +to exert an elevating and ennobling influence, and so fine in its +perfection of form as to epitomize this immortal quality of Athenian +genius; the other is Roman in its invincible strength, so imposing +in its stolidity and massiveness as to embarrass its beholders, and +so baffling in its superiority as to thrill them with awe and fill +them with wonder. One is an emblem of eternal youth, ever sprouting +Phoenix-like from its ruins and pressing with youthful vigor upon the +faltering footsteps of its mouldering sires, exempt, like the immortal +influence of Greece, from mutability and decay; the other is an emblem +of permanence, a form of endurance standing among the temporary shapes +of time, a structure not unlike a Roman pile, built to withstand the +onslaught of the ages. + +Today both species of Sequoia are confined to the mountains of +California. They inhabit the western slopes of its two systems of +mountains, the Coast Range on the West and the Sierra Nevada on the +East. The former parallels the ocean; the latter forms the backbone +of the State. Enclosed between these mountain chains lies the great +valley of California—a vast, oval plain, scarred all over with grain +fields and orchards, and mottled with shadows from the drifting sky +squadrons—with its two central rivers, the Sacramento and the San +Joaquin, meeting in its center and flowing with tranquil deliberation +through a series of bays, on through the Golden Gate to the Pacific. + +In comparison with the vast distribution of the genus during Miocene +times these two surviving species now occupy a mere fragment of +territory. The Redwood is restricted solely to the coastal mountains; +the Big Tree obtains only in the Sierras. Together, by reason of the +lofty height of the coast species and the gigantic girth of the Sierra +species, they comprise a group of conifers unrivaled the world over. +Since they are found nowhere else, California rightfully merits John +Muir’s claim of being the “Paradise of Conifers.” + +The _Sequoia sempervirens_ forms a tolerably uninterrupted belt along +the seaward side of the Coast Range. This belt is approximately 450 +miles long and extends from just beyond the northern California +border-line, where it fades out noticeably, south to the bay of +Monterey. The maximum width of the Redwood belt is thirty miles and +reaches from nearly sea level to an altitude of 3,000 feet. In the +vicinity of Crescent City the Redwood approaches the ocean so closely +that its tiny cones scatter their minute seeds about the cliffs upon +which the wild waves of the Pacific beat. In the hot interior valleys +that lie parched and shimmering under summer suns—valleys that are +moistened only occasionally by winter rains, conditions are apparently +too unfavorable to permit of its growth, and the tree is absent. It +thrives only where the fog-laden atmosphere hovers about its crown. +Its feathery arms seem to drink in these hazy, lazy mists as if by +magic and to precipitate them into gentle showers. Along the river +flats frequented by sea fogs, where the soil and environment are +ideal, it attains its greatest development. Indeed, on the bottom +lands of the Smith River and the main fork of the Eel in Humboldt and +Del Norte Counties, the Redwood “completely monopolizes the soil and +forms virgin forests of the heaviest stands of timber in the world.” +“Stands,” according to Jepson in his monumental _Silva of California_, +“of 125 to 150 thousand feet, board measure, to the acre are not +uncommon. Instances of even two and one-half million board feet to the +acre are on record, while 480 thousand feet, not including waste, have +been taken out of a single tree.” When it is realized that good eastern +forests produce but ten thousand board feet to the acre, this statement +is striking. In fact, such an immense yield separates the Redwood from +all the timber trees of the globe. + +The _Sequoia gigantea_ is more limited in its range than its fog-loving +cousin. Its belt is but 250 miles long and extends from the middle of +the American River, near Lake Tahoe, to Deer Creek in Tulare County. +It is found in the verdant center of the coniferous belt along the +middle heights of the Sierra. This zone of finest vegetation is located +between the altitudes of 4,600 to 8,000 feet above the sea where the +environment insures the most nearly perfect conditions for tree life; +where heat is tempered by elevation and the cold of winter is modified +by the proximity of a great sunlit valley. The area covered by the +Big Tree, however, fails to equal a hundredth part of that which the +Redwood occupies. This is due to the fact that the Giant Sequoia does +not occur in an uninterrupted belt. Unlike the Redwood, generally +speaking, it congregates in groves. Single trees are rarely found +alone in solitary grandeur. Preferring the society of its fellows, the +Big Tree is almost always found in “family clusters.” Though mingling +with Sugar and Yellow Pine, with White Fir and Incense Cedar, these +Sequoian groves never lose their identity. The size of the individual +Sequoias and their concentration within a definite area are sufficient +to set them conspicuously apart from the general forest. + +Twenty-six of these scattered patches of forest giants sociably growing +with trees of shorter pedigree and lesser dignity have been enumerated +by Jepson. These groves logically form a northern and a southern group, +with the Kings River as the line of division. The northern portion +of the Giant Sequoia belt has so diminished in size that it consists +of but seven small groves so widely separated that three of the gaps +between them are from thirty to forty miles in width. The northernmost +group must be called a “grove” by courtesy, since it contains but +six trees half of which are less than three feet in diameter. The +southernmost, with the exception of the Fresno Grove, is the most +remarkable of the northern group. This is the famous Mariposa Grove. In +all these northern patches, the Sequoia is an epicure of climate and +site. It grows only in locally favored or protected spots where the +sunshine is abundant and the soil rich, deep, and moist. + +The southern groves mark an almost continuous line through the +majestic, trackless forests of pine and fir from the Kings River +southward to Deer Creek. The gaps in the belt gradually become +increasingly narrow, and then cease altogether. The Sequoia may be said +to extend across the wide basin of the Kaweah and Tule Rivers in noble +forests broken only by deep, yawning canyons with rivers threading +their sinuous way down the center of each. Here, too, the belt widens +out, extending from the granite promontories overlooking the fading +line of tawny foothills to within sight of the summit peaks—regions +of rock and ice lifted above the limit of life. The largest and most +famous of these forests is the Giant Forest located near the mouth of +the Marble Fork of the Kaweah River and within the confines of the +Sequoia National Park. This most wonderful of all American forests was +named by John Muir, who must have wept for joy when he stumbled upon +it. Thousands of trees are congregated in this forest, five thousand of +which are said to be veritable titans in size. It possesses, also, the +largest tree in the world, the General Sherman, which has a diameter of +36.5 feet and a height of 280 feet—measurements which easily entitle it +to wear the purple of the King of all trees. + +In this glorious forest the Sequoia is indifferent alike to exposure +and soil, and is found growing in profusion on slopes of every +character, some even clinging to life on bare granite surfaces in a +way wonderful to behold. Multitudes of tender seedlings are continually +springing up in moist, sunny openings to carry on the royal line, and +companies of slender saplings are eagerly crowding up every slope +deserted by their elders, crowning all save the highest eminences. +In fact, the marvelous bounty of Nature has produced here the finest +assemblage of conifers known to botanical science. The entire region is +a billowy sea of evergreens, sinking and rising with the undulations +of the land with an unfailing luxuriance, the great rounded domes of +the giants swelling above the verdant canopy of pines and firs to mark +where the Sequoias sweep along the ridges, rise out of deep canyons, or +encamp on sunny meadows in conclave grand and solemn. + + + + + PART TWO + + Giant Sequoias _of the_ + Mariposa Grove + + + +Chapter III+ + + GALEN CLARK + + +The Giant Sequoia must have afforded pride and pleasure to the Creator +for it is the finest tree He ever made. Of a truth, there is not in all +the world a tree more wonderful. + +And yet, man has flouted this “shade of His perfection.” Under its +shadow he has neglected to gain inspiration and strength. In the +restless trend of the times he has become engrossed in empty pleasures. +In the agitation and strife for wealth individual interests, and not +those of posterity, have become of moment. As a result only that +which offers the allurement of gain has been recognized in the great +Sequoia. Its solemn and stately forests have been invaded by the axe +and commercialism has turned reverence, not into beams and pillars for +places of worship, but into supports for grape vines and barbed wire. + +Fortunately, the Mariposa Grove has escaped the fate which the axe +has brought many of its brethren. Like the groves of yore that were +God’s first temples it still stands, a virgin forest. The fluted +columns of its mighty trees are softened by the touch of centuries, +and so harmoniously are these venerable columns disposed that splendid +colonades are formed, giving the effect of a vast, many-pillared hall. +The airy masses of foliage that these great trunks mingle high in the +heavens form cathedral-like archways of the finest forest ceilings +imaginable. These magnificent interlaced archways soften the glare of +day and impart a dim religious light which suffuse shifting mosaics +of light and shade over the forest floor. Even the thick layers of +crumbling bark and the dessicated dust of ages serve to deaden the +footfall of the wanderer and to invest the gloom with a profound +silence. A deep Sabbath-like calm broods in the very air. Indeed, all +seems eloquent of worship. Here Nature stands with arms uplifted. + +None escape the sacred influence of such a grove. None, save possibly +the white man. Deer with eyes of soft innocence trip timorously through +it; burly brown bear never shuffle heedlessly down its winding aisles; +and rarely does the noisy, impudent jay muster sufficient courage to +disturb its serenity. The Indian with his stone axe never harmed it, +nor has the myth that he lighted his fires against its trunks, thus +“wantonly destroying that which he was too rude to reverence,” been +substantiated. It is only civilized man who violates such a sanctuary +“just so long,” as John Muir so pithily expressed it, “as fun or a +dollar can be gotten out of them.” + +Truly, the ways of man are at times past understanding. Under roofs +that his frail hands have raised he worships, yet he destroys with +utter disregard a Sequoian grove—a temple not made with human hands. +Such acts may be damaging. They may even be bad. But they are +manifestations of human nature—of the clay as it came from the hands +of the Potter. Happily, there are those among men who are of more than +common clay. Such a man was Galen Clark. It was he who first made known +to the world the Mariposa Grove and who faithfully guarded it for well +nigh a quarter of a century. He, above all others, rendered it the most +completely free from the axe and preserved it in the condition in which +his eyes first beheld it. Lest man forget, he saved it as a place of +play and prayer. + +Galen Clark came to California in the days of the gold boom. Strictly +speaking, he was not of the Argonauts of ’49, since he was not seized +by the spell of the gold fever until 1853. Shaking the dust of New +York from his feet in October of that year, he joined the eager +multitudes who flocked toward the new El Dorado. The year 1854 found +him in the country of Mariposa taking part in the pick and shovel storm +that was then raging on its mountains. Not unlike the majority, he +failed to find “a chartless river running on fabled sands of gold.” +The chase of the fabulous ended; he took up the less fascinating but +more substantial occupation of a surveyor. Occasionally, however, the +gold lure again possessed him and he spasmodically returned to mining +with the flare-up of local bonanzas. It was while so engaged that he +contracted, through exposure and hardships that had already filled +the nooks of the gold region with the bones of strong men, a disease +of the lungs. The physicians, unable to lessen the great number of +hemorrhages, prophesied that he had not long to live. Now a member +of the dreary brotherhood of failures, health and strength gone, and +knowing that death would claim him soon, he did not become a dissolute +miner. Instead of finding a refuge in strong drink, he sought solace +through communion with the sweet wonders of the common earth and sky. +In truth, he went home to Mother Nature, and became a wanderer finding +peace on mountain tops and consolation in piney woods. + +Singularly enough, his lungs healed. The climate had accomplished the +miracle. The bland and salubrious air rendered pungent by the balsamic +odor of Sierran forests, together with an abundance of health-giving +exercise, had cured the disease. More strange still, Galen Clark +attained the venerable age of ninety-six. Though he continued to lead +the life of a mountaineer, and constantly to expose his person to calm +and storm alike, he never suffered a recurrence of the malady. + +It was during one of his mountain rambles that Galen Clark came upon +the Mariposa Grove in May of 1857. Having toiled up the slope of a +divide with the South Fork of the Merced flashing in its ravine far +below, he paused at the summit for rest. Upon gazing around, to his +amazement he was greeted by an immense tree. He immediately recognized +it as of the same variety and genus as the mammoth trees of Calaveras +which had so astounded the world subsequent to their discovery in 1852, +and which were, supposedly, the only trees of their kind in existence. +A cairn today marks the spot where Galen Clark caught his first glimpse +of the Sequoia, and this first majestic shaft upon which his eyes +rested in wonderment bears his name carved on a slab of granite hardly +more enduring than the tree itself. + +Though not alone in this discovery, it is quite certain that Galen +Clark was the first white man to thoroughly explore the Mariposa Grove +and to make it known to the public. According to his own testimony he +was accompanied by one Milton Mann. “A few days later I was in the +lower portion of the Grove,” writes the discoverer in Foley’s _Guide +Book_, “and since the Grove was situated in Mariposa County, I named +it the Mariposa Grove of Big Trees.” It is not certain, on the other +hand, that Galen Clark and his companion were the first white men to +walk through the Mariposa Grove. The dauntless prospector, undoubtedly, +had also traversed this region. In his search for the imprisoned metal +that seemed to cry out to him for liberation all of this hitherto +unbroken solitude had become familiar ground to his feet. But if +any gold-seekers beheld the Mariposa giants earlier than 1857, the +discovery died with them. + +It is sometimes claimed that one R. Hogg, a hunter employed by a +water company to keep its camp supplied with venison and bear meat, +discovered the Mariposa Grove in 1855. While in the pursuit of his +calling, he came upon three trees of a different nature from any others +in the forest. This he reported to Galen Clark and other acquaintances. +Later, in the summer of 1857, and following the discovery of the +Mariposa Grove, Galen Clark came upon the three trees reported by Hogg +in a gulch about one-half mile southeast of the Big Tree grove. The +largest of these stragglers, to which Hogg accredited a circumference +of more than ninety feet, was so badly burned by a forest fire in +1864 that it was afterwards blown down during a storm. The other two +eventually fell victims to the axe. + +In April of his forty-third year (1857) Galen Clark settled on the +South Fork of the Merced. He had visited Yosemite in 1855. Therefore, +it was not without foresight that he staked out his claim beside the +trail running from Mariposa to Yosemite in the year that the Mann +brothers completed it. He selected a spot near the lovely expanse of +the Wawona meadow which lies in a basin-like depression encircled by +rolling mountains clad in forests of sugar pine that are no more. He +built a crude log cabin, thus making the beginning of the white man’s +Wawona. + +[Illustration: GALEN CLARK AT THE AGE OF NINETY-SIX + + Photo by A. C. Pillsbury] + +It was not long before his visions of a teeming traffic that would +some day wend its steady way before his door en route to the Yosemite +became a reality. At first small straggling parties came at lengthy +intervals, then larger groups, and finally a steady stream of eager +travelers who desired to see the glories of Yosemite began to pass his +way. His establishment, too, kept pace with the increasing travel. It +varied from canvas and log to tolerably pretentious buildings as the +seasons went by. With the advent of the sixties it was known as Clark’s +Station, and was the heart of activity in this backwoods country. +By this time a trail connected Clark’s with the Mariposa Grove. So +impressed had the discoverer become with the importance of his find +that he had built a good horse trail of four miles in length, thereby +making the wonder trees of the Mariposa Grove more accessible to the +world. + +A trip to the Yosemite in these early days involved much of hardship +without reward; much heat and dust and fatigue in the hope of +enjoyment. A ninety-two mile stage ride was necessary before reaching +Mariposa and an additional sixty miles on horseback. The first night +of the horseback journey usually found the traveler at Clark’s, the +second amid the solemn immensity of Yosemite’s granite cliff and domes +at Black’s, the first structure in the Valley pretentious enough to be +styled a hotel. Real enjoyment did not come until Clark’s was reached. +Here the traveler had arrived at the outer edge of the civilized world +and an atmosphere of romance surrounded the rest of the way. Europeans +and New Yorkers were prone to class the trip in the same category as +an expedition to little-known Tibet, and the friends of those who were +determined on making it urged that such adventurers, before they left +draw up their last wills and testaments. Nor is it to be wondered at +that tourists returning from Yosemite after such a journey should +speak vaguely of “obstacles and difficulties overcome and represent +themselves as having a kind of undefinable claim to the character of +heroes.” + +Everyone who passed over the Mariposa trail carried away a pleasant +memory of Galen Clark’s quaint wayside inn and long remembered its +proprietor. The generous hospitality that he extended never failed to +win the admiration of his guests. Even celebrities from abroad paid +him tribute whenever they chanced to speak of him in later years, and +always remarked that he had made them feel at home beneath his roof. +The poor as well as the rich held him in esteem. No weary wanderer, no +matter how low his fortune or how humble his pack, was ever turned +away hungry or unrested. All were equally welcome, for he shared his +loaf with Indian and white alike. Indeed, the natives in the country +around loved him for his kind and gracious ways, sought his advice in +council, and called him “Father Clark.” + +The early guide books that tell of these incipient days of pilgrimages +to the Yosemite rarely neglect to remark about the evenings spent about +the open campfire of this simple, upright, kindly man. They tell how he +presided over the social converse of the evening, how he narrated many +a mirth-provoking anecdote, freely exchanging wit and wisdom, and all +the while never indulging in boisterous laughter. They allude to those +trifles which memory often cherishes—“the slight intonations of his +voice indicating that something mildly sarcastic or funny was coming.” +Lastly, they usually conclude with a picture of the great sugar pines, +one hundred and fifty and two hundred feet high, solemnly standing +guard, the files of their fellows extending back into the mystic +blackness of the forest, the foremost calmly looking on the happy +scene, their shadowy clusters of needles brightening and glowing in the +flickering firelight. + +Yet these noble qualities which Nature had planted in his being with +such munificence unfitted Galen Clark as an inn-keeper. Business was +too foreign to his temperament, and he was too utterly self-forgetful +to win success. His friends multiplied fearfully and wonderfully, +but fortune was unkind to him and led him into debt. So low had his +estate fallen by 1869, when the Mariposa County survey was made, that +he deeded half his Wawona property to one Edwin Moore. A few years +later he borrowed money with which to make extensive improvements. +These proved so unfortunately planned that foreclosure resulted. Again +Galen Clark faced the most discouraging ordeal that can come to man—the +making of a new start in life. + +Until the late seventies the Mariposa Grove was accessible only by +foot or horse. The beginning of the seventies witnessed the completion +of the Mariposa road to Clark’s. In 1874 Washburn, Coffman, Chapman +and Company were granted permission to extend the Mariposa road +to Yosemite, with the privilege of collecting a moderate toll as +compensation for its construction. This road, which is now known as +the Wawona Road, reached the Valley in July of 1875. Its completion +was celebrated in Mariposa in the true holiday manner of the early +Californian. Bands and bluster and bunting were the order of the day. +One prominent citizen of the community delivered a flowery oration +and with an air of great electrical effulgence heralded the event +as the dawn of a new era. Indeed, returning travelers from Yosemite +could no longer lay claim to the laurels of heroes, for the journey +was now considerably shorn of its “terrors.” During the spring of +’78 or ’79 the present road from Wawona to and through the Big Trees +was built. The opening through the Wawona Tree in the Grove was made +in one of these years and vehicles began to carry the curious of the +world through this living tree. Clark’s Station was purchased by the +Washburn Company in May of 1875, and with the advent of the eighties +the present-day Wawona had seen its birth. Clark’s had become but a +memory. + +Contrary to popular opinion, the quaint Log Cabin which is so redolent +with the breath of the fifties was not built shortly after the +discovery of the Mariposa Grove. It was built much later, too late, +in fact, to pose as “Galen’s Hospice” or to satisfy the lovely legend +that it sheltered from the stormy blast wanderers who found themselves +far from civilized habitation or human succor. Sentiment would fain +preserve this myth. However, truth is firm and in all honor it must +be stated that this cabin was not erected until 1885, and that it has +never given shelter save to curios and their merchants. The report of +the “Commissioners to manage the Yosemite Valley and the Mariposa Grove +of Big Trees” of 1886 forever proves how palpably against the weight of +authority this tale is. “Last year,” the report states, “a comfortable +and artistic log cabin was erected at a central point in the Grove +... and ornamented by a shapely, massive chimney with a cavernous +fireplace guarded by the traditional crane and pendant kettle.” + +The first curio dealer to occupy the Log Cabin was “Old Cunningham.” +This quaint character made his curios in a hollow tree with the aid +of a jig-saw and tourists prized his wares the more knowing that they +were made on the spot. When his purse was fat “Old Cunningham” would +ride to Wawona to a saloon called the “Snow Plant,” where he was wont +to present the bottle and spin yarns. Hutchings left posterity a +delightful penciling of this old fellow. “The coach generally halts +at a large and deliciously cool spring near the Cabin, where those +who have come to spend the day will probably take lunch. Here, too, +we shall have the pleasure of meeting Mr. S. M. Cunningham, who knows +every tree by heart, its history, size, and name, and can tell you more +about them in ten minutes than any man could in an hour (as is the +usual case with such wags). I can see his bright and genial look, watch +his wiry form and supple movements while I write. There is one thing +especially noticeable about Mr. Cunningham—he is never discouraged +and sees always the bright side of things, so that when a storm is +swaying the tops of the trees until they bend together, he can listen +interestedly and tell you laughable incidents until your sides ache.” + +With the waning of the gold excitement and the waxing of a stable +Statehood, those who were laying the foundations of the State began to +turn their faces toward the future. Gradually they came to see the need +of treasuring some of its natural heritages. They recognized the fact +that California had been lavishly favored with great natural wonders. +Nevertheless, they came to realize also that she was not so rich in +these as to be careless or neglectful of their preservation. They +likewise perceived, these far-seeing ones, that although California +possessed all of the Giant Sequoias, they were the most perishable of +all her treasures if left without protection. Destructive humanity can +little change the sublime granite forms of Yosemite. They will always +remain unspoiled, and mankind can hardly mar them more than could the +clouds that hover about their summits or the butterflies that flit +about their bases. It is true that man may plow Yosemite’s meadows +and cut down wildflower gardens that have never known a mower. He can +destroy its clusters of trees, rob Mirror Lake of its reflective charm, +stop the flow of its waterfalls. All this he can do. But however much +he tries he can but little alter or disturb the majestic repose of its +rocks. Yet he can lay low in a single day a Sequoia that waved its +arms to Sierran winds when the Carpenter of Nazareth was born. In one +short season he can reduce a hallowed Sequoian grove to an expanse of +blackened stubble where only charred stumps remain to mark where trees +once stood and “looked at God all day.” + +Fortunately, however, these builders of a commonwealth saw the light +in time. Nor did they wink at it. Hence, the Mariposa Grove came to be +made safe from the axe through seasonable legislation and was spared +the fate that soon befell other Sequoian groves at the hands of greed +and commercialism. + +Fortunately, again, Galen Clark was appointed Guardian of the Mariposa +Grove by the Governor. The choice was well and wisely made. In fact, +when John Muir said, “Galen Clark is the sincerest tree lover I ever +knew,” he spoke with fine truth and spirit. Never will Yosemite look +again upon the likeness of such a man. In the performance of his duties +as guardian of the Yosemite Grant he was not found wanting and proved +himself sterling by every standard incident to human nature. + +In 1864 when kinsmen in their bitterness and hatred were destroying +one another, Senator Conness in behalf of certain influential citizens +of California introduced a bill into Congress and the law-makers of +Washington paused for a moment in the prosecution of the Civil War to +pass the Act which granted to the State that “cleft or gorge in the +Granite Peak of the Sierra Nevada Mountains ... known as the Yosemite +Valley with its branches and spurs, in estimated length fifteen miles +and in average width one mile back from the main edge of the precipice +on each side of the valley ... and the tracts embracing what is +known as the ‘Mariposa Big Tree Grove,’ not to exceed four square +miles....” In addition to this the Act stipulated: “the said State +shall accept this Grant upon the express conditions that the premises +shall be held for public use, resort, and recreation and shall be +inalienable for all time.” President Lincoln approved the Act a few +days before he made his famous speech on the field of the battle that +broke the Southern blade. Shortly after this Governor Low of California +formally issued a proclamation accepting the Grant. In it he warned +all persons against willful and malicious trespassing and made it a +misdemeanor to injure or destroy any of its treasures. In accordance +with the terms of the Act, the Executive of California then appointed +eight Commissioners to manage the Valley and the Big Tree Grove, naming +Galen Clark as one of them. On the second of April, 1866, the State +Legislature made formal and legal acceptance of the Grant and clothed +the Commissioners with the necessary power to make such regulations +as were requisite to its administration and control. At this time the +Legislature also authorized the Governor to appoint a Guardian to take +active charge of the Grove and the Valley. A small appropriation of two +thousand dollars was made for the purpose of making improvements during +the ensuing two years and an annual salary of five hundred dollars was +voted the Guardian. + +[Illustration: GALEN CLARK TREE + + Rock cairn to left marks spot of discovery + + MARIPOSA GROVE Photo by H. S. Hoyt] + +Life is not always a picking of flowers; often it is a plowing of +meadows strewn with hidden rocks. The latter proved to be the lot of +the Commissioners in connection with the Yosemite, for their progress +was blocked by the hostility of settlers who refused to relinquish +their claims. Litigation resulted and the Commissioners encountered +only censure and antagonism in their attempts to make of the Yosemite +a playground for the people. Happily, they were not so handicapped +in their management of the Big Tree Grove, yet here, too, they had +difficulties to contend with. + +Chiefly among these was the problem of human vandalism. Constant +vigilance was necessary to guard against those who seemed to take an +insatiable delight in destroying all within their reach. Truly, the +besetting sin of all “pilgrims” the world over is their unquenchable +lust for “specimens.” Like priests of the Capuchin Convent who +“unfailingly show some memento of a saint—a bone of his body, a thread +of his garment, a lock of his hair, or a drop of his blood—before they +extol his miracles,” the “pilgrims” who journey to Nature’s shrines +must, at all hazard, carry away some bit of the shrine to awaken the +wonder of the rustics at home. Or, if they are thwarted in this, it +becomes imperative for them to inscribe their poor little names in +some convenient place on the shrine so that all who run may read. What +a pity some justly wrathful Sequoia cannot fall on some of these +defamers and crush their “eyeballs into dust,” thereby intimidating +them and their kind into forever desisting from such acts. + +The Commissioners were plagued with vandals of yet another sort—the +camper and the sheep-herder; the one starting forest fires through +negligence, the other purposely to insure better grass for his +“hoofed locusts.” In 1889 the Grove was threatened with disaster. +A fire, started because of a camper’s carelessness or through the +deliberate design of sheep-herders, secured sovereign possession of +the surrounding forest and in one place invaded the Grove itself. In a +few days the entire annual appropriation was used in saving the Grove +from the angry flames. When their fury was finally conquered, black +scars that only time could obliterate remained. It was this memorable +fire that consumed the Lone Giant, the largest decumbent monarch in the +Grove. + +Since the Commissioners had no control over outside forests bordering +on the Grove, this calamity indicated the need of building a fireline +to arrest the progress of future conflagrations. The necessity of +clearing the Grove of its dense masses of inflammable undergrowth was +also made apparent. This growth not only obstructed a view of the older +trees, but it rendered them inaccessible for close inspection. It also +made for poor reproduction by depriving seedlings of light. It choked +and starved the younger trees, while it robbed the patriarchs of their +much needed moisture and hindered their growth. Hence, to render these +harmful features negligible, the Commissioners decided to clear the +Grove of its underbrush. The appropriations of the next five years were +used toward this end. By 1895, all the acreage within the ambit of the +Big Tree Grant had been treated to the brush scythe and the grubbing +hoe, and the fire menace reduced to a minimum. + +No less worthy of attention are the extensive additions and +improvements made during these years upon the roads. Each of the main +clusters of Sequoias was rendered accessible and travelers could +make a complete tour of the Grove viewing its principal wonder trees +from the stage, as they do today. The State had received the Grant +approachable only by trail. In an amazingly short time, considering +the meagerness of appropriations, the State had rendered the Grove +accessible to other than hardy travelers. Young and old, the physically +fit and the infirm, could now enter it with comfort and safety. In +all fairness it must be conceded that the State had made the Mariposa +Grant more suitable for the particular use for which it had been +appropriated. The Commissioners had administered the Grove for the +good of the greatest number. They had taken positive steps to protect +it from the carelessness of the thoughtless and the wantonness of the +ignorant. Unquestionably, they had proved scrupulously careful in their +administration of the trust imposed in them. + +Yet even so commendable an accomplishment as this only aroused a storm +of criticism. The removal of the fire-inviting underbrush shocked +the nerves of sentimentalists who advocated the preservation of the +Mariposa Grove “in the condition in which it won the admiration of +its discoverer and appealed to the enthusiasm of the world.” They +lamented over the fancied catastrophe. They fell into near convulsions +over the thought that the virginal beauty of the Grove was no more, +because its “flowering shrubs” had been grubbed out. Even the _Century +Magazine_ took up the bodeful cry. Joaquin Miller’s statement that he +had travelled from Babylon to Jerusalem “without seeing so much as a +grasshopper, or a bird, or a blade of grass in a land that was once +an Eden” was quoted as a prophecy of the Grove’s condition in the +near future if these “destructive tendencies” continued. Alexander, +they pointed out, mourned because Greek ivy would not grow on the +tower of Babel and inferred that such would be California’s lot when +her eyesight sufficiently improved to see the need of enhancing the +grandeur of her Sequoias by garlands. And all the while they failed to +see the irony of their plea. They did not know that sentiment, like +ivy, can cling to a very flat surface. + +Nor is this all that the Commissioners accomplished. To their list of +achievements must be added yet another. In order to make the Grant of +1864 a treasure that “all shall share and none shall be the poorer for +sharing,” they warred against unscrupulous commercial enterprises. +Hawkers continually pressed forward their schemes in honeyed words to +make travelers the victims of innumerable petty charges and vexations. +However, the Commissioners who were all men of high principles would +have none of them. Concessioners who proved unprincipled in their +treatment of tourists were summarily deprived of the means with which +to accrue further ill-gotten gains. In all truthfulness it can be +stated that throughout the entire forty years of State control[1] the +various Commissioners never sullied their hands in graft. Though they +received not a penny in salary and often laid out considerable sums +to swell the meager appropriations of the State Legislature, their +office was never used for the purpose of gain. In short, they carried +a trusteeship that concerned the high honor of the Commonwealth of +California in a manner which justifies the pride of the people. + +In all this glorious work Galen Clark, as Guardian, stands head +and shoulders above his colleagues. He had that desire to serve +without its selfish qualities. Not inspired by the love of fame and +reputation, he did not toil for self-aggrandizement, like many men. He +considered the interest of the people higher and purer than that of the +individual. It was this interest that he ever held paramount, that he +always best served. To him the highest patriotism was expressed by the +man who thought not of honor of self or of individual reward, but who +lost himself in the larger and dearer interests of the Commonwealth; +who so loved it for its own sake that he was content to be forgotten. +In this respect Galen Clark succeeded in a manner so striking that it +deserves the name of art, not of artifice. He is practically unknown +today. Yet he rendered the people of California, and even of America, a +singular service. + +“As Guardian he enjoyed a longer contact with the management of the +Grant, off and on, than any other single individual. He was reappointed +again and again by succeeding Governors as Guardian, and after +twenty-four years of service in this capacity, he voluntarily retired, +carrying with him the respect and admiration of every member of the +Commission, of all the residents of the Valley, and of every visitor +who enjoyed the pleasure of his personal acquaintance.” + +The tribute paid him on his retirement in 1897 by those with whom he +was so long officially associated is worthy of full quotation: + + +Whereas+: Galen Clark has for a long number of years been closely + identified with Yosemite Valley and has for a considerable portion + of that time been its Guardian; and + + +Whereas+: He has now, by his own choice and will, relinquished the + trust confided in him, and retired into private life; and + + +Whereas+: His faithful and eminent services as Guardian, his + constant efforts to preserve, protect and enhance the beauties of + Yosemite; his dignified, kindly and courteous demeanor to all who + have come to see and enjoy its wonders, and his upright and noble + life, deserve from us a fitting recognition and memorial; now, + therefore, be it + + +Resolved+: That the cordial assurance of the appreciation by this + Commission of the efforts and labors of +Galen Clark+, as Guardian + of Yosemite, in its behalf, be tendered and expressed to him: + + That we recognize in him a faithful, efficient and worthy citizen + and officer of this Commission, and of the State; that he will be + followed into his retirement by the sincerest and best wishes of + this Commission individually, and as a body, for continued long + life and constant happiness. + +Galen Clark did great things, but apparently fame accompanied him to +the grave. Few know of him today. One of the most kindly of men, he had +a simplicity so intense that at times it appeared ridiculous to men of +sense and candor. Never offending by superiority, modesty composed the +very fabric of his being. To be rather than to appear was the ruling +passion of his long life. Having an insuperable aversion for bluster +and bombast, he talked about himself rarely, and then only with the +greatest of reticence. It was only after much persuasion on the part of +friends that he was induced to write his charming and authoritative +account of the _Indians of Yosemite_ in 1904. Doing nothing for the +sake of personal display, he never forced himself into the limelight. +Unobtrusive and unpretentious, he had all that unaffected humility that +some believe to be the essence of Lincoln’s greatness. + +No account of Galen Clark would be complete if it failed to touch on +his love of Nature. “He was fond of scenery,” testifies John Muir, +“and once told me that he liked ‘nothing in the world better than to +climb to the top of a high ridge or mountain and look off.’ Oftentimes +he would take his rifle, a few pounds of bacon, a little flour and a +single blanket and go off hunting, for no other reason than to explore +and get acquainted with the most beautiful points of view. On these +trips he was always alone and indulged in the tranquil enjoyment of +Nature to his heart’s content.” + +Few, indeed, have been more sincere in their love of Nature. He loved +not only all her moods, both beauteous and terrible, but all her forms +from the lowliest flower in the dust by the roadside to the loftiest of +Yosemite’s cloud-caressed cliffs. But he lacked the power of expressing +his affections. Like Muir, he “read the great book spread out before +him;” unlike Muir, he was not gifted with a magic pen. Probably he was +too sensitive to his poverty of language to attempt to describe the +fairy-like beauty, the rare delicacy, and the wondrous tints of an +Alpine blossom—“that beautiful creature that catches the smile of God +from out the sky and preserves it.” + +Twenty summers in the Yosemite formed in Galen Clark an attachment for +the Valley that was deep and lasting. Nearing the sunset of his life, +like the patriarchs of old, he dug his own grave in the little cemetery +near Yosemite Falls. With his hands he hewed his own tombstone from +one of the granite blocks the elements had plucked from the cliff over +which the snowy flood of the grand Yosemite Falls descend sonorous, and +soft, and slow. Taking up a few seedling Sequoias from the Mariposa +Grove, he transplanted them at the four corners of his last resting +place so that they would shade the grave of their blessed benefactor in +the years to come. A man of great age, he must have brooded on death +and become familiar with its mystery so that the end did not come as a +surprise. + +One day in 1910, at the age of ninety-six, the end came and in sorrow +and in silence all that was mortal of Galen Clark was laid in the +sacred earth, his kindly soul passing on to where, beyond the booming +voice of the great fall he so loved, there is peace. + + + + + +Chapter IV+ + + WONDER TREES + + +The Mariposa Grove belongs in the category of the world’s impressive +wonders. It presents the most remarkable exhibition of the Sequoias +growing between the American and the Kings Rivers and displays Nature’s +finest handiwork on the fraternity of the king of all trees. It +contains the essence of the most imposing qualities of the Sequoia and +is unlike any other grove in its very compactness. Concentrated in its +small extent are trees in every phase of development from nurseries +of tender seedlings obtaining their feeble hold on life and groups of +graceful saplings not half arrived at the maturity of treehood, and +just disclosing their impatience to be kings, to venerable patriarchs +that are numbered foremost in the world of living things—giants +so freighted with age that they exemplify Doctor Johnson’s famous +metaphor, “and panting Time toiled after him in vain.” + +The Mariposa Grove is superior to other Sequoian tracts in its +accessibility, lying as it does in a shallow, crater-like depression +near the top of a forested ridge at an elevation of 6,000 feet above +the sea and a distance of sixteen miles as the crow flies from the +Village in Yosemite Valley. This ridge, upon which the Grove is +situated, runs in an easterly direction between Big Creek and the +South Fork of the Merced, having as its culmination Mt. Raymond, a +rocky promontory upon which the snow lingers even in July. + +The Grove is approachable over the Wawona Road which winds upward +along the south rim of Yosemite Valley. After passing southward in a +meandering course through twenty-seven miles of Park forest, the road +drops to Wawona from where it again ascends 1,500 feet within eight +miles before reaching the portals of the Mariposa Grove. Once within +the Grove, but a comparatively brief period of time is required in +which to review its salient features. With little effort it may be +completely explored and studied. So harmoniously are its wonder trees +disposed within the utmost smallest space that all of them may be +viewed from a passing vehicle. In fact, even the most cursory journey +through the Mariposa Grove will suffice to give an impression of the +singular, solemn dignity of the Sequoia. + +Possibly much of the world-wide fame of this Grove is due to the fact +that it has been brought the nearest to civilization of the several +Big Tree groves. Yet interest in it should not spring merely from such +a consideration, for it lies in happy proximity to the grandeur of +Yosemite’s cliffs and domes. Indeed, it is as distinctive a feature +of Yosemite National Park as the Valley itself. Time was when the +importance of the Mariposa Grove was little if at all recognized. In +the last decades of the nineteenth century the Calaveras Grove held the +center of the stage. The latter was then the most accessible. Because +of this it became the Mecca of naturalists and celebrities of the +day who made pilgrimages across the continent in order to visit it. +Therefore, the Calaveras giants loom large in the earlier literature of +the Sequoia. But with the passing of the stagecoach and the hitching +post—with the coming of the “winged wheels” and the “iron horse,” +the Mariposa Grove ceased to bloom unseen. Instead of the Calaveras +Grove it became the more easily reached. Inevitably the pendulum of +popularity swung toward it and yearly the tide of travel that flows its +way increases. + +The tendency to wander into the wilderness that obtains in these +feverish times is advancing the popularity of the Mariposa Grove. +Mankind is coming more and more into sympathetic contact with Nature. +Yearly thousands of over-civilized people are discovering that nothing +so renews the health of the body, so refines the mind, so affords +a margin of leisure for the soul, or so has the power to quiet the +“restless pulse of care” as communion with Nature. They are discovering +that real recreation and enjoyment are not found in crowded cities or +fashion-hampered hotels. As a result, unspoiled woods and mountain +solitudes, brawling brooks and soundless lakes, flowers and stars, rosy +dawns, sunset golds and twilight purples are fast becoming the wealth +of nations. All this is glorious and full of promise. It lends a happy +tone to the times. Truly, if it persists in increasing, the Mariposa +Grove is destined to enjoy a tremendous tomorrow. + +The Grant made by Congress in 1864 really embraced two distinct groups +of the Giant Sequoia. Because these approach within but a few yards +of each other, they have come to be looked upon as a single body. The +Upper Grove, according to Whitney, contains 365 trees of a diameter +of one foot and over. This makes, as the old guide books were wont +to point out, “a tree for every day in the year.” The Lower Grove is +smaller in area and contains but 182 trees, which are more scattered +than those of the Upper Grove. In both groves there are hardly +more than 125 Sequoias over 40 feet in circumference, yet these in +themselves are so imposing that to view them is compensation for a +journey half the circuit of the globe. + +The road enters the Lower Grove, describing a figure eight in passing +through it and the Upper Grove. The Sergeant of the Guard and the +Four Sentinels guard the gateway. Their bright color and port, rather +than their size, at once attract the eye. Soon other monarchs, among +them the prostrate Father of the Forest, are passed. Then the Grizzly +Giant, standing alone in the grandeur of its own solitude, chains +the attention. Upward wanders the road, passing from one marvel to +another. Each seems to surpass its predecessor, and finally, when +the road passes through the Wawona Tree, it seems the chief wonder +of them all. But when this Highway of the Giants winds back again to +the Log Cabin, the traveller learns that the real wonder has been +reserved for the last. Here he will find himself in the midst of a +most magnificent grouping of Sequoias. Over half a hundred are within +sight of the Cabin. But not until, after examining one after another, +letting the eye roam over their fluted columns and upward into the +blue-green depths of their far-away tops, walking around some and into +the enormous hollows of others, climbing up the sides of still other +prostrate trunks and stepping them off from end to end, will a proper +realization of the immensity of the Sequoia be possible. + +The more remarkable trees of the Mariposa Grove have received names +to individualize them. But even this practice of late has been +carried too far. The names of states, cities, and persons have been +indiscriminately tacked to trees that were on earth when the stones +of Rome were laid. That such comparatively trivial and frivolous +designations so inconsistent with the grandeur and nobility of the +Sequoia should be permitted is amazing and regrettable. It detracts +seriously from the finer appreciation of the tree and renders its +groves “freak museums” which are looked upon with a “Barnum eye” +as merely “side-show curiosities and big things.” Assuredly, such a +practice is to be unreservedly condemned. + +Whitney attempted to avoid just such a result as this by distinguishing +the greater Sequoias by numerals. However, the undesirability of such a +method is at once apparent when pressed into service. Such featureless +monotony as “Number 15, fine, sound tree; Number 304, largest and +oldest tree in the Grove; Number 262, half-burned at the base,” and the +like (as Whitney recites in his _Yosemite Guide Book_) is produced. +Obviously, the trees must be individualized by names. But why attach +a name such as Andy Johnson to a tree that saw the light of day when +Pompeii was destroyed? Affixing names of such temporary notable +figures of the day to a Sequoia savors almost of ticketing the name +for an “adventitious immortality.” At any rate, whether it be the tree +or the man so honored, probably either would live as long in memory +without the connection. If a Sequoia must be labeled, let some striking +attribute of the tree itself be the governing factor in selecting the +designation. + +Foremost of the Sequoias in the Mariposa Grove is the Grizzly Giant. +It is among the most massive-stemmed trees of the world and ranks +with the oldest inhabitants of the earth. Yet a mere statement of +its size little serves to convey an adequate impression of the tree. +Measurements are, after all, only relative criteria, at best. As +well give the tailor’s measurements of Lincoln as an index of his +greatness as to try to convey the fascinating immensity of this tree by +saying that it is 204 feet high and 31 feet in diameter at the ground. +Its stockiness is truly remarkable. Its sturdy trunk tapers upward so +slightly to the first great limb—reputed to be six feet in diameter; +the size of a mature pine—that the diametric variance is almost +imperceptible. Nor is its base excessively expanded. No more, really, +than is necessary for strength. In fact, it seems almost too slight an +expansion to serve as a diagonal brace or instep for the support of +such a gigantic structure upon the earth. Consequently, the diametric +measurement of the Grizzly Giant at the ground justly signifies its +enormous bulk. Yet even this cannot be accurately obtained for its +base has been so badly gnawed by flames that a true measurement is not +possible. + +[Illustration: THE CABIN AND ITS MAGNIFICENT SETTING + + MARIPOSA GROVE Photo by H. S. Hoyt] + +Several Sequoias press closely upon the Grizzly Giant in girth. The +Lafayette Tree is easily its counterpart, having a ground diameter of +29.4 feet. But in this case the swell at the base is excessive and +the trunk itself has less than two-thirds the diameter of the Grizzly +Giant. The Columbia Tree even exceeded the Grizzly Giant in girth and +must have measured at least 110 feet in circumference before fire +claimed half its base. Viewed from the Cabin it is extremely imposing +and almost as grand and picturesque in its old age as the Grizzly +Giant. Standing on a steep slope, its stem appears to be fully as +massive as that of the patriarch of the Grove, while its great elbowed +limbs and its high top, “bald with dry antiquity” and scarred with +tokens of old wars, vest it with a venerable charm. However, a scramble +through the dense brush on the up-hill side reveals a large burnt +hollow in which a dozen persons could comfortably stand. If sawed +close to the ground its stump would be shaped like a crescent moon. A +tape stretched around it and across its concave surface would record +a diameter of 25.6 feet. The Washington Tree is a foot less in girth +at the ground than the Grizzly Giant, yet measured 10 feet above the +ground its trunk is a few inches larger in diameter, being 20.7 feet. +Nevertheless, it tapers far more and is not nearly so imposing in its +pillar-like stateliness as the tree that presides over the Mariposa +Grove. + +After all, mere figures have their limitations. They are not expressive +of Sequoian size. This may be due to the columnar character of the +Sequoia’s trunk. It rises smooth and unbroken by protuberance of any +kind for a hundred to a hundred and fifty feet. Vastness is so artfully +given emphasis and completeness that the whole is not a monstrosity. +Symmetry is so perfectly achieved that there is no straining for +enormity. What would be a commanding height for a building on a flat +level surface appears not out of the ordinary in the Sequoia. This is +perhaps why a first glimpse of the Sequoia is sometimes disappointing. +Examination and meditation are necessary before the grandeur of the +tree “grows” upon the observer. Then he is filled with a feeling of awe +that no grandeur of architectural pile could possibly inspire. + +The Mariposa Grove possesses the tallest of the Sierra Sequoias, the +Mark Twain Tree. This magnificent specimen lifts its proud head 331 +feet into the sky. Thus, it would reach nearly two-thirds of the +way up the lofty Washington Monument and would over-top the dome of +the Nation’s Capitol. Yet those who gaze upon it for the first time +depart doubting. Seeing is not believing. Its appearance is anything +but that of the tallest Giant Sequoia on the globe. Nevertheless, the +measurement is accurate and authentic and must stand.[2] + +Other Sequoias rank close seconds to the Mark Twain Tree in height. The +Captain A. E. Wood, with a height of 310 feet, is not far behind. The +Columbia, 294 feet high, the Nevada, 287 feet, and the Georgia, 270 +feet, are all exceptional trees. In fact, a score of others could be +enumerated before the imperial Queen of the Forest would be reached, +whose 219 feet of trunkage place it within the average height of the +Giant Sequoia. + +Most perfectly formed of the Sequoias of the Grove is the Alabama +Tree. The pioneers called it the “Pillar of the Temple.” It has +developed under full sunlight and is magnificently balanced in all +its proportions. Truly, it is one of the finest examples of “Nature’s +forest masterpieces,” as John Muir was wont to designate the Sequoia. +Fit to support any temple, it stands marvelously perfect, unmarred +by fire, untouched by disease, undisturbed by the violence of the +elements. Centuries have passed over it, centuries that have noted many +disasters in the march of civilization, and yet it has remained free +from accident. Its heroic stem is as roundly perfect and as regularly +tapered as though turned in a lathe. Unbroken by a limb upwards of +nearly two hundred feet, with an instep that adjusts itself to the +mass it supports with elegant finish, it discloses a trunk with deeply +and widely furrowed ridges not unlike a pillar that Phidias might +have fashioned. But no pillar ever conceived by man bore a tint more +ravishing or a luster more superb than this. When spotted with shifting +patches of golden sunlight, its cinnamon-reddish trunk would put to +shame the richest colorings of Numidian marble. + +Nor has any pillar of stone ever supported a more exquisite structure +than the crown of this Sequoia. Possessed of almost an artificial +finish, it is a gracefully trimmed, singularly perfect dome. The +supports of this crown leave the trunk in a woody wilderness of huge +arms, wild in ungovernable expression, knotted and confused as those of +giants who toss their arms in anguish. These great limbs, regal-hued +in rose and purple, dissolve themselves abruptly into masses of stumpy +branchlets which in turn spray out into a soft film of deep blue-green +foliage. Indeed, it is impossible to distinguish against the skyline +exactly where this arch described by the foliage ends and where sky +begins. So subtile are the edges of this crown that they appear to melt +away into the heavens. Yet more wonderful is the flame-like semi-halo +visible along the crest of this tree just after a rain. Ruskin noticed +this light on pine trees. “The whole outer crown,” he states, “becomes +a thing of light, dazzling as the sun itself, for every minutest needle +is bedewed and carries a diamond, as if living among the clouds it had +caught a part of their glory.” + +Never has Nature presented a more striking contrast, a more +extraordinary comparison than in the trunk and foliage of the Sequoia. +They are at the opposite ends of the scale. One presents the utmost +massiveness of outline; the other the most delicate curvature and +grace. The trunk has qualities of permanence, classic mightiness, +enduring power, and the colossal dimensions that go with two thousand +years of age; the foliage possesses qualities of fleetness, ephemeral +frailty, fragile beauty, and the airy nothingness of a dream. + +Nearly all the other Sequoias of the Grove have had their perfection +marred by three agents of destruction—time, fire, and man. The +remarkable manner in which they have triumphed over their destroyers +makes them unique among trees. Seared, scarred, and mutilated all +their lives, they have carried on in their great, patient, rugged +fashion. Accidents seem unable to disturb more than momentarily their +peaceful way. Calamities that would vanquish other trees only serve +to quicken their hardy, tenacious growth. Almost invincible, they +appear to know neither despair nor defeat. Even when overthrown by the +combined strength of the elements of heaven and earth, though uprooted +and prostrate, they refuse to perish utterly. Would that man had the +stamina of the Sequoia. + +Time has not laid a heavy hand on the Sequoia. On all living things it +leaves its trace. But never within the compass of human reckoning has +time alone been able to take off a Sequoia. Fire must first prepare the +way by eating through the center of gravity of its trunk. Then, and +only then, are the tempests able to overthrow it. This is because the +scanty foliage of the tree never makes for top-heaviness. One of the +most interesting habits of the Sequoia is the pruning of its own top. +Unnecessary limbs are rarely retained. Not infrequently in Sequoian +groves when there is neither wind nor other apparent cause, a crash in +the night is heard and at dawn the ruins of a limb are found beneath +one of the Giants. Evidently the Sequoia knows that a tree which +carries its crown two hundred and fifty feet above its base cannot +wrestle with the fury of the winds under full sail. Consequently, it is +only after fire has deflected one of these columns from its plumbline +and when the mass of earth about its roots has been softened by rain or +snow, that the gales succeed in prostrating the Sequoia. + +The Fallen Monarch and the Fallen Giant are the two most noted of this +category in the Mariposa Grove. The former, when standing in the full +glory of prime, must have been the equal of the largest of the lordly +monarchs of today. Its bark gone, its sap-wood decayed, its base badly +fire-scarred, it still measures over 85 feet in circumference. But +for all its great size, its refusal to perish is even more wonderful. +It is not a mouldering mass which tourists can idly kick about, but a +solid trunk whose wood is as firm and sound as on the day the tree fell +to earth. How long the bleached ruin of a tree may have lain on the +forest floor is mere conjecture. How old this monarch was before its +fall is an equally fascinating speculation. It may be that the circling +sun looked down upon it as a graceful sapling when Cheops raised +the Pyramids on the plains of Gizeh. Nor are these vast, unmeaning, +sepulchral piles erected to the great who exhausted the splendor of +Egypt in their building, apparently more enduring than this decumbent +monarch. + +The other, the Fallen Giant, fell during a storm in the early +seventies. Its mammoth prone trunk may be seen from the Cabin porch +today. Since its fall a troop of cavalry have been lined up in +formation upon it and a coach-and-four has been driven along its trunk. +Living, it stood among the foremost of the Grove. It was known as the +Andy Johnson Tree and was one of the famous giants of pioneer days. Now +all its glories have shrunken into a “curiosity,” for tourists take a +special delight in clambering up and stamping upon its grey surface to +test the soundness of its wood. + +But the destructive work of time as a whole has been of less +consequence than that of fire. Of all the tragedies and great passions +of the elements that cross the silent life of a Sequoia, none can +compare with the sinister work of this forest fiend. Fire alone +seems able to inflict irreparable wounds, and nothing else, not even +disease, apparently ever injures the heart of a Sequoia. The immense +black charrings on many of the noble trees of the Grove bear silent +testimony to great conflagrations of the past. Yet, in a sense, the +Sequoia triumphs even over this arch enemy. Fires that totally destroy +its neighbors only assail its vitality after many and repeated attacks. +Enormous areas of its base may be burned and yet the tree will live on. +So erratic, indeed, may some of these injuries become that daylight +is let through the tree. Even if it be advanced in age, it will still +continue to put forth green leaves, persisting in a really remarkable +manner in the face of misfortune to which a lesser tree would +immediately succumb. + +[Illustration: TELESCOPE TREE + + Light may be seen through this tree, hollowed by fire. + + MARIPOSA GROVE Photo by H. S. Hoyt] + +The Haverford, the Stable, and the Hermit’s Cabin are notable for +the large fire-created cavities of their bases. The Haverford has +had its broad base entirely hollowed out by flames which have burned +a three-chambered archway through the tree across two spurs, the +distance of which is 35 feet, and, transversely, 33 feet. Garrulous +stage-drivers of early days, whose creative faculties at times spurred +them on to daring mendacities, called the Haverford the “Tree of +Refuge” and alluded to the fact that 30 horses found safety and shelter +within its hollow trunk during a severe storm. When it is determined, +however, with certainty that but half this number of horses really were +sheltered, the size of this cavern in the base of a living tree is +still sufficiently striking. + +The Stable Tree has a capacious hollow in its base almost forming a +room eight by twelve feet. It was because “Old Cunningham” manufactured +his quaint stock of curios in the hollow of this tree that it gained +the fitting appellation of the “Old Curiosity Shop.” Later when the +soldiers of the Government patrolled the Grove they tied their mounts +within this room-like hollow—a practice which eventually caused it to +be known as the Stable Tree. + +The Hermit’s Cabin is a charcoal-lined circular chamber with a very +fine domed ceiling. It affords a spacious room in which some denizen +of the mountains could dwell in princely comfort and contentment. Wild +beasts may have made it their forest lair in the past, and the Indian +may have flaked his arrowheads within it while waiting for a storm to +pass. It is not altogether improbable that some failing miner may have +used it for his hermitage, seeking solace in the vast, silent bowers of +shade about him and submerging himself in the immense peacefulness of +the Grove—wandering, rambling at will, pausing to drink at a spring, +or anon to examine a flower, or to warm himself in the sun, bewildered +yet charmed by the fascination of it all; a dreamer seeming to hear the +laughter and voices of dear ones at home, but in reality listening to +the songs of birds. + +But there are Sequoias even more fire-tortured than these. The +Telescope Tree is an erect, burnt-out, tubular trunk 220 feet high. Its +heartwood is completely gone. Tourists may enter it and look up through +its chimney-like cylinder to the blue sky above. Internally, its +appearance is that of a tree from which life has gone forever, while +externally it appears to be a perfectly sound tree. Of course, its top +is a ruin. But one up-turned limb remains. This abounds in the spirit +of intense life, for its bossy patches of deep blue-green foliage still +bear cones whose seeds perpetuate the endless cycle of the royal race. +Thus this tree—hardly more than a mere barkcovered shell, clings to +life with a Roman tenacity—the epitome of vitality. + +Pluto’s Chimney is yet more of a ruin. It is nothing but a huge old +stub of a tree, blackened and burned inside and out. So forbidding +and fearsome is its interior aspect that some call it the “Devil’s +Dungeon.” But for all its dismal repellence, it, too, has its story to +tell. Like a battle-scarred veteran, its blackened body tells mutely +of a mighty struggle bravely waged against the forest fiend. The sun +lights its gloomy circular vault and sheds a troop of bright sunbeams +upon its dead walls as though to bless them and warm them back to life. +Even winter’s clouds sift snow in its burnt-out shell as though to cool +its fire-ravaged sides. + +Yet another of these enormous charcoal-lined cylinders lies prostrate +not far away. Early travelers were accustomed to pursue each other +through it on horseback. But this pastime was put to an abrupt end by +a nearby Sequoia falling across it and breaking in the roof. Since +then spring floods have deposited considerable quantities of sediment, +lessening its diameter, so that today a man can just walk erect through +it. Still other similar fragments, the monuments of departed monarchs +of other centuries, dot the forest floor. To search these out is a +pleasure worth the climbing of a mountain to enjoy. Through ragged +knot-hole openings charming and enchanting glimpses of the forest may +be obtained. Seemingly, all that is unattractive is hidden from view +and the beauties of the picture can be contemplated at leisure. + +Far greater than the destructive work of time is that of man. Against +his double-bitted axe the Sequoia is completely powerless. Ironically +enough, the larger and more remarkable the tree the more certain +and swift its doom. The rarity of the species is no bar against its +destruction. Indeed, man seems even eager to barter this most priceless +heritage for a handful of yellow gold. Wherever greed has had free rein +the Sequoia has been lumbered. For the past fifty years cuttings in +privately owned holdings of Sequoian tracts have continued unchecked. +The axe has removed a large part of the Sequoias in the Redwood +Mountain, Merced, and Tule River regions, and the sawmill is still at +its work of destruction in the magnificent forests of the Kings and +Kaweah River basins. “Earlier cutting,” states Sudworth, “took only a +part of this timber, but the later operations have removed practically +every tree.” + +Has man no regard for the past—no sentiment of conservation for the +future? How can he trace the arduous survival of the Sequoia through +geological ages without acquiring a peculiar admiration and love for +it? How can he look upon such a living monument which connects the past +with the present and blink at its intellectual and aesthetic value? +When the Germans bombarded Rheims in 1914 and Turkish cannon demolished +the Parthenon of Athens in 1687, all lovers of architecture and the +beautiful stamped such acts as barbarism. But the rose window of Rheims +and the colonades of the Parthenon _can_ be restored. They were merely +man-made. Living things, however, once destroyed are forever lost to +the world. When the axe destroys a Sequoian grove it is irrevocably +gone, for, after all, “only God can make a tree.” + +Were the commercial value of the Sequoia in any manner adequate to +its monumental value, all this vilifying would be but simon-pure +sentimentality. Could the wood of the Sequoia be used as girders and +columns in great halls and solemn cathedrals, its commercial use would +somewhat befit the nobility and heroic proportions of the tree. But it +is otherwise. The light, soft, brittle wood of the Big Tree unfits it +for supporting ponderous roofs and massive balconies. No wise architect +would use it in this manner. In fact, nearly every wood grown on the +American Continent is superior to the Big Tree in the weight it will +sustain. + +Few other trees in their lumbering exceed the Giant Sequoia in +wastefulness. More lumber can be obtained from ash or maple than from +the Sequoia of the Sierra. This is due to the enormous size of the tree +and the brittle character of its wood. When a falling Sequoia strikes +the ground with the force of many thousands of tons, any inequality +of the earth’s surface suffices to break its trunk. Blasting must +then be employed to reduce the great pieces to sizeable dimensions +for handling. This results in fragments of all sorts unsuited for +commercial use, to say nothing of the great loss of that which is +cracked and splintered beyond all hope of salvage. “No where on the +face of the globe,” says Dudley, “can there be found more wasteful +lumbering. One-half to even three-fourths or seven-eighths of the great +trunks of the Sequoias of the Converse Basin (near the Kings River) +were broken and rent beyond use in falling.” In substance, breakage is +so great that the major portion of the wood is suitable only for grape +stakes and fence posts and the like. If no other tree save the Sequoia +could furnish these products, the destruction of its forests might be +justifiable. Hence, no other conclusion can be reached than that the +lumbering of the Sequoia is wholly unnecessary and deserving of the +severest condemnation.[3] + +Yet more must be told. Much vandalism has been committed on the Sequoia +by man. Early accounts are filled with these “botanical tragedies” +which were perpetrated whenever the venture appeared profitable. For +instance, in 1878, a butchered specimen of the Giant Sequoia was +shipped from Tulare City to San Francisco for exhibition purposes and +gain. It was the largest Sequoia the vandals could find in the forest. +Fourteen feet above the ground they made the first cut and for twelve +days nine men disturbed the age-old peace of the place with the ring +of axes and the rasp of saws. Finally, the monarch that had defied the +passions of the elements for centuries fell, conquered by the blade. +Then the inside of the stump, which was 21 feet in diameter, was hewn +out to within a dozen inches or so of the foot-thick bark and the +hollow shell sawed into fifteen gigantic slabs. With indefatiguable +energy, a road six miles in length was constructed to haul these out of +the forest. Each slab made a load for eight horses, while two railroad +cars were required to transport them all. The so-called “curiosity” +was set up on Market Street as the largest tree yet discovered in +California. Strangely enough, this act elicited hardly a whisper of +indignation or a word of protest from Californians who seemed to regard +the exhibit as a “real novelty.” + +The Calaveras Grove suffered grievously at the outset from such +barbaric acts. Two of its most imposing trees were destroyed. One of +the grandest trees in the Grove was bored down with pump-augers by five +men in twenty-two days in order to make a dancing floor—butchered, in +other words, to make an American holiday. Its great trunk, 302 feet +in height and 96 feet in circumference, was hacked and chopped by the +usual “pilgrims” desirous of securing specimens of their visit. The +other, the “Mother of the Forest,” was stripped of its bark in 1854 +to a height of 116 feet—veritably “skinned alive” so that its bark +could be sent to the Crystal Palace in England, where the curious of +Europe could see how large and fine California’s Big Trees really were. +Naturally enough, this act brought death to the tree. “For years,” +Hutchings remarks, “its majestic form perpetually taunted the belittled +and sordid spirits that were the authors of her ruin. Yet the elements +sympathized with her unmerited disgrace and attempted to hasten her +dismemberment to cover the wrong.” In the early part of the present +century a fire almost completed the work. Now but a great blackened +trunk remains with two disfigured limbs bent upward like human arms as +if to say, “Forgive them, for only in darkness does vandalism flourish.” + +Fortunately, the Mariposa giants have escaped all this ignominy. +The serenity of the grove has been unbroken by the death chant of a +Sequoia. It has never echoed to the measured chopping of the axe, the +droning swish of saws, the hoarse call of teamsters, the clanking of +irons, or the shrill whistle of the donkey-engine. The sawmill has +eaten its destroying way all around its boundaries, leaving desolation +in its wake. But the Mariposa Grove has been spared this fate. A more +noble use has been found for it. + +[Illustration: WAWONA TREE + + The curious of the world have passed through this Sequoia for half a + century + + MARIPOSA GROVE Photo by H. S. Hoyt] + +Only two trees within the boundaries of the Grove have been touched by +the axe—the Wawona and the California. Both have huge openings hewn +through them. However, this cutting has not been the work of vandalism, +for fire had prepared the way by almost tunneling through them. It was +possible, therefore, to complete the opening with little injury to the +tree in each instance. Indeed, it is not impossible that both of these +Sequoias will go on living long after the generation that let daylight +through them has been all but forgotten. The passage-way through the +Wawona was cut during the late seventies when Henry Washburn built +the first road through the Grove. The opening in the California Tree +was made much later, so that tourists could experience the novelty of +driving through a living tree in the late spring when the snow was yet +deep in the upper part of the Grove where the Wawona stands. + +In all the world there is probably not another tree more celebrated +than the Wawona. It is neither wonderful in the massiveness of its +great red stem, or glorious in the symmetry of its domed crown; nor has +it the venerable picturesqueness of the Grizzly Giant, or the port, +pomp, or perfection of the Mariposa Tree. Its fame rests simply upon +the ten-foot passage-way through its base. Pictures of it appeared in +geographies over half a century ago; stage coaches have passed through +it times innumerable to the amazement always of certain of their +passengers without discomfort, and now thousands of automobiles drive +through it annually. + +Of the wonder trees of the Mariposa Grove perhaps none offer a greater +object lesson to man than the Faithful Couple. From earliest times +mankind have destroyed each other and the fallacy of war has yet to be +learned. The Faithful Couple represent two trees that warred with each +other all their lives, never realizing the value of peace until, in the +weakness of their old age, they united their almost spent strength to +fight the greater battle against death. + +They are the sole survivors of a former commonwealth of seedlings. +In company with a community of tiny trees they began their lives +on ground cleared for their reception by the fall of a giant of +a former generation or by a ground fire. Either of these agents +exposed the mineral soil so necessary to the life of the germinating +seed. Sunlight, too, must have been sifted down in proper amounts +since but little shade can be endured at any stage of the Sequoia’s +existence. Even then the hold this zealous crop of seedlings had on +life was precarious. From the instant they cast their tiny shadows on +the ground, excessive moisture, erosion, and wind threatened their +existence. Indeed, many must have perished in their earliest infancy +from these dangers. + +As soon, however, as their branches and their roots began to interfere +with each other, a struggle of yet another sort ensued, and each +seedling began to battle fiercely with its neighbors for light and +nourishment. At the same time each exerted a beneficial influence +over the other by preventing the winds from drying out the soil or +the rains from carrying it away. Each was a member of a “protective +union,” mutually making for better conditions of growth which gave them +greater strength to carry on the fight for life. Strangely enough, each +continually comforted and assisted while at the same time attempting +to destroy each other, for they were the most deadly of enemies. Each +was shouting “excelsior” and endeavoring to rear its head above those +of its fellows in the race for the skies. “Aspire or die,” became the +watchword of the group. Gradually the most fit of the Sequoian youths +over-topped their slower rivals, eventually shutting off their share of +sunlight and ultimately snuffing out their lives. For generations this +struggle toward the sun went on, as terrible as it was silent, each +survivor eliminating its rivals. And all the while the sun, the one +object of this eternal striving, neither knew or apparently cared. + +As the number of the defeated increased and the veterans became fewer +and fewer, the struggle became less intense. At last, but two of all +the host that started the fray of perpetuity versus extinction were +left. These remained to preach the aristocracy of the forest—that +it is of the best and for the best. The weak and unfit had been +vanquished. Only the straight-trunked and the strong lived to enjoy the +commonwealth of the sky. They were the chosen few. Now, unable to lift +their proud heads higher into the clouds, because Nature cannot pump +water to such dizzy heights, these two giants attempted to crowd one +another off the earth. Not satisfied that they had found a place in the +sun, they had to bear each other’s ill will. The struggle continued, +but each was as powerful as the other. At length, having wasted their +energy in useless conflict, they came to terms. Embracing, they finally +united in confiding communion the better to brave whatever blessing or +blast fate might bring them in their declining years. Have they learned +the worth of peace too late? + +Near the Cabin stand four wonderfully perfect Sequoias. So military in +precision are they, so formal and rigid in their poise, and so perfect +in alignment, that they seem to be standing ever at attention. Hence, +they have been designated as the Old Guard. Others, however, prefer +to call them by the more poetical name of “Sun Worshippers,” for, as +the sun traces its long descent of midsummer afternoon, it throws a +golden shower of sunshine upon them, and they in turn appear to revel +in all this glory. Their great limbs, the size of ordinary trees, seem +uplifted in prayerful attitude, while nearby companies of pine and +fir appear to gather about these four high priests of the sun like +worshippers in humble veneration. At sunset, during the silent battle +between light and darkness, this effect is singularly impressive. Their +fine round trunks seem to glow, not unlike red-hot steel drawn from +intolerable flame, and their cool green domes are splashed with floods +of vermillion, gold, and purple, as the fading light plays its changing +wizardry upon their delicate foliage. Only at such a time does the +Sequoia lose its crushing dignity and its overwhelming complacency to +become a thing of beauty. Then, as the shadows steal forth and enfold +the solemn forest, and the red trunks burn lower and lower until, +finally, like lamps they go out, a mighty calm settles upon their +silent crests where departing day lingers in a last caress. + +No review of the Mariposa giants would be complete without due mention +of the Fallen Hero Tree, which was dedicated by the American Legion of +California in the summer of 1921, to the Unknown Dead of the World War. +Surely, no dedication could be more fitting, for nothing living is more +monumental than the Giant Sequoia. Besides is it not better to preserve +monuments than to build them? “Almost no structure,” declares Dudley, +“erected by human hands has come down to us intact through the lifetime +of a Sequoia; and few that we can admire which are hewn from inanimate +marble or granite can be compared to a living organism vast in life +and complete in the records of every year of its existence. An empire +or republic may be compared with the life of this great tree, but what +empire or republic has lived twenty-five centuries? None worthy of the +name. Then, in the building of the Sequoia, no blood has been shed +through all its twenty-five hundred years of life, no injustice or +oppression have secured the means necessary for its construction, no +hatred or strife has been engendered, no accident occasioning pain or +suffering—no extinction of human life has left a stain on the history +of its growth.” + +Again, from the standpoint of art and permanence, no dedication could +be more appropriate. Few living things merit a higher place in art +than the great Sequoia. It appeals to the highest intellectual and +spiritual qualities of man. Of all trees it is the most dignified and +majestic. After a shower its crown is oftentimes vested with a nameless +light—a glory not of this earth—never seen on granite crag or marble +temple. Then again no living thing is more enduring than the Sequoia. +Tombstones that mark the graves of the known heroes will have become +cornerless and the names they bear will have been obliterated by the +elements; those who knew and loved the names will have run their brief +course and be laid at rest, as will their children and many generations +after them, before the Fallen Hero Tree ceases to transmit to the +coming ages the memory of the Unknown Dead who fought, suffered, and +died in the Great War. + +Assuredly, the Mariposa Grove has other values than that of a mere +“show place.” Aside from the size and age of its far-famed trees, the +Grove has power to inspire and its lesson to teach. Its trees have +stood steadfast for centuries indifferent to time and tide, the better +to admonish mortal man lest he forget his littleness. To contemplate +them in cold calm without feelings of reverence is impossible. No +artist has yet been able to adequately depict their God-like composure +and their haunting grandeur. Indeed, they are as gloriously beyond the +brush as they are above words. That stirring apostrophe of Byron to the +ocean is the nearest approach in all literature to their greatness. +Most mysterious of all natural wonders, they have looked on events that +distinguish centuries. Over them has been drawn the mantle of the past +and within them are locked many of the secrets of history. + +To stand in the presence of such ancient things is to be able to sense +something of the riddle propounded by the inscrutable Sphinx. And +yet more wonderful is such an impression by moonlight. On every hand +tower the stern columns of the Sequoias, their shaggy crowns gemmed +with stars. About them are grouped other tree hosts, rising in files +and striving in vain to emulate the ample girth and majestic height +of the giants. These lesser trees are pines with a perfection almost +faultless, cedars as beautiful as those of Lebanon; and firs with a +grace not unlike that of hills sculptured by rain drops. Among these +are yet others—trees crooked and short and stumped; trees tall and slim +and slender. Through the rents in the roof of this aged forest the +moon looks in, sending long arrows of light to investigate some pitchy +obscurity, splashing the forest floor here and there with blotches +of silvery light and banding the open spaces with monstrous slanting +shadows of Sequoian columns. Formless masses of impenetrable darkness +loom everywhere. All the rest is a region of half-light in which +everything is seen and nothing recognized. All is wrapped in a cloak of +unreality, lending a weird, almost theatrical effect. Shadows move with +a ghostly sound throughout the cavernous chambers. The perpetual peace +of night is upon the forest. + +Then it is that the Sequoia is almost holy in its tremendous power +to inspire reverence. Only in the solitudes of the sea where there +is no trace of land or sail to break the fearful circle set upon the +surface of the great deep is such an impression of the mystic charm of +space received. Here the immensity of sea and sky is comparable to the +over-shadowing majesty of the Sequoia. The soul is overwhelmed with +solemnity. The immeasurable calm and solitude of it all overflows like +a tide. One seems on the threshold of oblivion. Life’s endless toil and +endeavor are at an end, for one has caught a glimpse of the immortal. + + + + + +Chapter V+ + + OLDEST OF LIVING THINGS + + +When that intrepid botanist-explorer, David Douglas, who in his lonely +wanderings along the Pacific endured numberless hardships that he might +make the flowers and trees of the coast known to science, first saw +the Redwoods while traveling through the Santa Cruz forest in 1830, +they invoked in him feelings of the most profound awe. He hesitated to +describe them lest he fall into discredit among his friends in England. +“New and strange things seldom fail to make strong impressions,” he +wrote in his Journal, “and are therefore frequently over-rated. This +tree gives the mountains a most peculiar, I was going to say, awful +appearance—something which plainly tells me that we are not in Europe.” + +Little did this awestruck wanderer know that yet larger trees stood in +these princely forests of the Western world. In fact, almost a quarter +century elapsed before the presence of the Giant Sequoia was made +known. John Bidwell has sometimes been accredited their discovery in +1841. But the more acceptable and authoritative record of discovery +is that of A. T. Dowd who, while hunting, came quite by accident upon +the Calaveras Grove eleven years later. Even then Dowd’s story was +accepted with much doubt and it was necessary to resort to a ruse in +order to induce even a few skeptical workmen to confirm the discovery. +Still the truth of David Douglas’ moralizing on the over-rating of +strong impressions asserted itself, and traveler after traveler had his +reputation for truthfulness sorely tried until almost a “convention +of naturalists” had seen the mammoth tree and given their unanimous +testimony as to its size. Then the great Sequoia became an almost +meteoric celebrity, for few plants have attracted as much attention in +so short a period of time. Since then the Sequoia has been lauded in +every land as the largest and most nobly proportioned of trees. It has +found its way sometimes in a most engaging manner into literature. For +instance, in Victor Hugo’s _Toilers of the Sea_, an old seaman who had +gathered from his voyages many wonderful stories, tells a child of a +hollow tree in California “so vast that a man on horseback could ride +one hundred paces inside.” + +Yet the prodigious size of the Sierra Sequoia is hardly as wonderful as +its remarkable age. That it should become known as the oldest living +thing that human eyes can look upon is truly marvelous. + +The elements to which the Sequoia is indebted for its great age are as +enigmatic as they are controversial. Foremost of these is the tree’s +intense desire to live. It seems never weary with the weight of years, +and is blessed with a tenacity, a faith in life granted to no other +living thing. From the finely interlaced network of its shallow root +system to the utmost tip of every tiny needle, it displays a fervent +love of life.[4] Indeed, there is a joy in noting the eager attitude +of the foliage as it stretches out toward the light to gather the +sunshine. Every unnecessary and useless branch is promptly discarded +and the entire energy of the tree is devoted toward putting forth new +foliage the better to capture the sunbeams. + +The altitude in which the Sequoia grows produces the loveliest verdure +of the Sierras. All seems submersed in an ocean of sunlight. It is a +region lifted above the thirsty foothills and yet far enough below the +vacant solitudes of perpetual ice and naked rock to be free from the +searing heat and dust of the former and the tragedy and wreck of the +latter. John Muir so delighted in the “glorious floods of light” that +pervaded this region that he referred to the Sierra, not as the snowy +range, but the “Range of Light.” + +This abundance of sunshine, then, helps to explain the splendid +conifers that the middle heights of the Sierra produce. The amount of +solar heat sensibly affects the growth of trees. It is in the presence +of sunlight that the green coloring matter in leaves is able to digest +plant food. Yet this is not the all-important factor. Moisture plays +a most potent role, also. The distribution of the lingering patches +of the Sequoia reveals the powerful influence of moisture over the Big +Tree. In the northern limits of its range, the Sequoia exists at a +lower altitude (4,500 feet) where moisture is plentiful, while in the +southern portion of the belt it climbs nearer the summit peaks (7,000 +feet) where the drying heat of the San Joaquin plains is modified by +elevation. The inexorable force exerted by moisture over the Sequoia is +even better demonstrated by individual trees. All the better specimens +are found growing in well watered places. Springs often bubble forth +from the wide-spread masses of sponge-like Sequoian roots, indicative +of the constant underground irrigation system that supplies the tree +with mineral nutriment. The stunted are nearly always found growing in +the dryer spots, looking very rusty but resolute; the thrifty tower +about boggy meadows or along the drainage of water courses whose waters +roar in their channels in flood time and trickle from pool to pool with +faint murmur in Autumn after the azalea has bloomed and the mountain +lilac has lost its badge of Spring. + +Indeed, it would be difficult to conceive a tree that has established +a more adequate and harmonious relationship in concordance with both +climate and soil. Under the most constant stimulus of the elements +so vital to the growth of trees in general, the Sequoia is sustained +by soil, deep and rich, by sunshine, and by moisture, as well as by +the other elements which it, in common with other associated trees, +derives from the air. Nevertheless, the sugar pine often enjoys such +idyllic conditions, as do the silver fir and the incense cedar. Yet the +Big Tree exceeds them all in size. Since it so outranks its fellows +in girth and longevity, the Sequoia must, therefore, possess certain +superior innate qualities that are found wanting in other trees. + +Theoretically, there is no limit to the girth of trees. There _is_ +a limit, however, to the height of a column which Nature, working +silently through centuries, builds. One theory holds that this limit +is governed by the distribution of sap. When the tree attains a +height beyond which its circulating fluids cannot rise, upward growth +practically ceases and all appreciable growth is in girth. Since there +are no limits to dilation, the tree is capable of indefinite expansion. +Normally, however, counteracting causes which at first retard, then +arrest, are continually at work, finally checking the progress +of growth. The tree most completely free from such counteracting +influences logically attains the greatest size and age. + +This, then, is the keynote of the Sequoia’s great age. There is a limit +to its height, but none, apparently, to its rotundity. So long as +the growth of the Big Tree is unimpaired, it continues with patient, +steady, indefatigable energy to add ring after ring to its stem year +after year, century after century. In time the old channels become +clogged with insoluble matter taken up by the roots and the annual +layers become successively consolidated until the united cells attain +such strength that the vast wooden pillar defies the onslaught of the +elements. It stands a monument of power, emblematic of the limitless +desire to live. + +“Trees,” states Asa Gray in his famous essay on the _Longevity of +Trees_, “far outlast all living things. They never die of old age, +but only from injury or disease, or, in a word, from accidents. If +not destroyed by accident, that is, by extrinsic causes—they do not +eventually perish, like ourselves, from old age. It is commonly +thought that they are fully exposed to the inevitable fate of all +living things, but this springs from a false analogy which we have +unconsciously established between plants and animals. This popular +analogy might, perhaps, hold good if the tree were actually formed like +the animal, all parts of which are created at once in their rudimentary +state, and soon attain their fullest development so that the functions +are carried on throughout life in the same set of organs. If this were +the case of the tree it would likewise die sooner or later of old age. + +“But the tree is an aggregate of many individuals united in a common +trunk and why should not the aggregate, the tree, last indefinitely? To +establish the proper analogy, we must not compare the tree with man, +but with the coral formations in which numerous individuals, engrafted +and blended on a common base, conspire to build up immense coral groves +which have endured for ages; the inner and older parts consisting of +the untenanted cells of individuals that have long since perished, +while fresh structures are continually produced on the surface. The +individuals, indeed, perish; but the aggregate may endure as long as +time itself. So with the tree. + +“Only the leaf may be said to die of old age. It lives but a single +season and is the proper emblem of mortality. But the leaves are +necessarily renewed every year, so are the other essential organs of +the plant. It annually renews not only its buds and leaves, but its +wood and its roots; everything, indeed, that is concerned with its life +and growth. + +“Though the wood in the center and large branches—the produce of buds +and leaves that had long ago disappeared—may die and decay; yet, while +new individuals are formed on the surface with each successive crop of +fresh buds, and placed in as favorable communication with the soil and +the air as their predecessors, the aggregate, the tree, would appear to +have no necessary, no inherent limit to its existence.” + +Of the many chapters of evidence gathered by this American botanist on +the remarkable age of certain trees, none made mention of trees older +than the Sequoia. The ancient oak which cost the poets much mental toil +in their panegyrics to its strength and endurance falls far short of +the Sequoia in age; nor do the lordly Cedars of Lebanon, “from which +the sacred writers derived so many noble images,” nor the venerable +yews, “whose branches were used by our pagan ancestors to deck the +graves of the dead as the emblem of immortality,” exceed it in years. +The Mexican cypress may have witnessed the rise and fall of the Aztec +Empire, but they are not coeval with the Christian era that has seen +the decay and death of a score of empires. Sengal Baobabs and Teneriffe +Dragon Trees may be reputed to be the “most ancient living monuments in +the world,” but they do not antedate Solomon’s time. + +Since no tree, apparently, surpasses the Sequoia in longevity it +must enjoy an immunity from the causes that take off other trees. +Ordinarily, weakness in trees results from a diminution of resistance +and rejuvenating power, or a loss of vitality. The protecting bark is +often lacerated and stripped away through accident, creating wounds +through which insects gain easy entrance to carry on their insidious +work. Fire often exposes the tender tissues in which the spores of +fungi find lodgment and breed disease. Instances of the death of trees +through these causes are legion throughout the forests of the Sierra. +The magnificent silver firs seldom live to see their three hundredth +birth year, and though externally of sound and fair appearance, when +cut they are not infrequently found to be a mass of watery, decayed +wood inside. Through a loss of vitality the noble sugar pines likewise +are often devoured by larvae soon after reaching maturity. + +[Illustration: FALLEN MONARCH + + This tree shows no evidence of decay after decades of mountain + weather + + MARIPOSA GROVE Photo by H. S. Hoyt] + +Yet strangely enough, the Sequoia appears untouched by the forces of +decay. This tale of a struggle into being, of a life lived, of decay +and death, is written on all of Nature’s works. The way of life and +its destined end is toward oblivion. But causes that conspire to bring +about the end of trees in general appear unable to quench the vitality +within a Sequoia. It rarely ever shows the slightest evidence of +weakness, and appears never to be defiled by the ravages of disease. +Injuries only of the greatest magnitude are a source of irrecoverable +loss. Indeed, Sequoias that have great holes burned in them are +magnificent in their refusal to accept defeat. They summon their +splendid resources, clutch the soil with a broader and deeper hold in +their determination to enjoy life to the very last. So long as there is +a sound root left, it is the way of a Sequoia to cling to life. No one +who has an appreciation of the wonders of Nature can behold this grim, +steadfast, dogged resolution that prevails against all odds without +feeling the beauty of such an unconquerable spirit. + +The wood of the Sequoia seems to be provided with every refinement of +durability. Natural decomposition is slow and its wood wastes away +insensibly like granite. So resistant is it to weather, to the rigorous +and incessant forces of obliteration, that it is hardly an exaggeration +to affirm “that a log cabin built of Giant Sequoia logs on granite will +last as long as its foundation.” The resinous matters that pervade +wood are considered a preservative against decay. Hardwood has always +been indicative of durability, whereas the wood of the Sequoia is soft +and brittle. But for all its softness and lack of resin, though hoary +and mossy with age, and deformed by centuries of violent storms, the +Sequoia is nearly always sound _from the sapwood to the center_, and +this is more than can be said of nearly all the “remarkable and curious +cases” of trees that have enjoyed a great longevity as cited by Asa +Gray. + +Most impressive of the excellent qualities of the Sequoia, however, is +its amazing vitality. In the ability to recover from accident it is +probably excelled by no other tree. The shadows of twenty centuries +may sleep beneath its boughs, yet its growing power is as active as +ever, the tree ever rallying in apparent youthful vigor to replace +its broken, tempest-tossed crown. It defies even the wrath of heaven. +Though lightning may shatter a pine to splinters, it can but knock off +fifty feet, more or less, of a Sequoia’s crown. Never has it been +known to have destroyed a Sequoia outright. “Thousands of years the +Sequoia stands offering its head to every passing cloud as if praying +for heaven’s fire as a blessing,” observed John Muir. “Then when the +old head is off, every bud and branch becomes excited like a colony of +bees that have lost their queen, and tries hard to repair the damage. +Branches that for centuries have grown out horizontally at once begin +to turn upward and all the branchlets arrange themselves with reference +to a new top of the same ineffably fine contour as the old one. And +curious enough, all very old Sequoias have lost their crowns in this +manner. Of all living things, they seem to be the only ones able to +wait long enough to be struck by lightning.” + +The power of a Sequoia to heal an immense fire scar is another +noteworthy manifestation of its vitality. Its resistance to fire is +almost incredible. Its massive, unresinous bark offers an almost +asbestos-like exterior to the eternal antagonist of the forest. Its +wood, too, is so non-resinous in character that it burns with marked +sluggishness, and it is only after repeated attacks by fire that the +wood will be consumed. + +Even when fire has made serious inroads the Sequoia refuses to be +discouraged. It musters all its energy and attempts to heal the +burned area by extending the living tissue over the blackened wound +and reuniting the broken circle of its cambium layer. This healing +occurs in a rhythmical and pulsating manner accompanying the seasons, +beginning along the margins of the burned area. Each year the layer +of new wood-tissue encroaches slowly and patiently upon the injured +area, diminishing the charring until the two opposite folds touch one +another. In a few years the bark is pinched out and once more the +annual layers become continuous around the tree. The wound is healed, +and as the centuries pass it recedes deeper and deeper within the heart +of the tree, unchanged and never a source of decay. + +The late Dr. Dudley examined the stump of a lumbered Sequoia in the +Converse Basin which registered the effects of great forest fires. He +found the tree to be 2,171 years old when cut down. At the age of 516 +years the tree suffered its first burn, acquiring a scar three feet in +width. One hundred and five years were required to heal the injury. +A second burn occurred when the tree was 1,712 years old, making two +wounds, one twelve inches in width, the other two feet. One hundred and +thirty-nine years passed before these scars were covered. Then, when +the tree came to be 2,068 years old, a tremendous conflagration burned +a great scar eighteen feet wide and thirty feet high. This was still +unhealed when the tree was cut down. Professor Dudley estimated that at +the rate of the above healing it would require at least _four centuries +and a half_ to repair the result of the injury done by this last forest +fire. + +No other tree could have lived under similar circumstances without +becoming diseased or decayed. This greatest among trees stands alone +in its superb resistance to insect and fungi attack, and this, coupled +with a marvelous recuperative power, enables it to withstand injuries +of such considerable magnitude, and to endure long enough to recover +from them. Its vitality, as deep as it is tenacious, and its very love +for living, vest it with this sublime power. Symbol of an unconquered +will, the Sequoia has caught more of the immortal than any other +living thing. The Gordian Knot of its existence would never be cut +were it possible to protect it for all time from fire and the axe. +Had it remained untouched by flames of the past, the vastly shrunken +present-day habitat of this great tree might possibly contain the +ragged rear guards of the departed giants of the Miocene, and a single +Sequoia would be old enough to establish a paleontological era. + + + + + +Chapter VI+ + + THE ETERNAL TREE + + +The Grizzly Giant is among the first born of the living things of the +earth. It bears greater evidence of extreme age than any other living +Sequoia of the Mariposa Grove and may be of a former generation. The +companions of its youth are dead and buried in their graves of leaf +mold and it seems to have been nearing its prime when the other lofty +monarchs of today were unknown. Grand and unconquerable, mightiest of +the mighty lords of the forest, it stands like an agonized Sampson +of the woods, blind and lost, with a hundred great arms groping and +reaching out. Like all Nature’s works of power, it seeks to express +more than it can convey. Homeric in its gravity, marble in its +impassiveness, and majestic in its tranquility, it is unapproachable +among things that live. Aspiring toward the clouds and on speaking +terms only with the heavens, its equanimity seems unruffled by storm +or tempest; its sweet serenity unsullied by anger, hatred or other +passions unworthy of an immortal nature. For a thousand years the +earliest rays of dawn have gilded it. For ten centuries departing day +has lingered and played on its summit. Surely the mellow notes of the +hermit thrush issuing forth from such loftiness sound more angelic +there than elsewhere. + +Joseph Le Conte left posterity an indelible picture of this tree. “Of +all the trees of the Grove, and, therefore, of all trees I have ever +seen, the Grizzly Giant impressed me the most profoundly; not, indeed, +by its tallness or its symmetry, but by the hugeness of its cylindrical +trunk, and by a certain gnarled grandeur, a fibrous, sinewy strength +which defies time itself. The others with their smooth, straight, +tapering shafts towering to a height of over two hundred feet seemed +to me the type of youthful vigor and beauty in the plentitude of power +and success. But _this_, with its large, rough, battered trunk nearly +thirty feet in diameter—with top broken off at a height of two hundred +and four feet, with its great limbs six to eight feet in diameter, +twisted and broken—seemed to me the type of a great life, declining but +still strong and self-reliant. Perhaps my own top with its departing +foliage made me sympathize with this grizzled giant; but I found +the others, too, standing with hats in hand and gazing in silent, +bare-headed reverence upon this grand old tree.” + +The size of the Grizzly Giant is sufficient to stimulate the mind to +silent musings. Often this leads to “cord wood contemplations,” for +the mind, in attempting to realize the prodigious amount of timber +such a stem might contain, is naturally apt to associate unknown +quantities with known. Ordinarily, a statement on the size of this +tree, if unsupported by other known comparison, is of little import. +That it requires a short journey to walk around it; that twenty +people can hardly encompass its girth touching hands; that fourteen +horses, head to tail, can just encircle its base, serve to visualize +the measurement. If it were pierced by a lofty arch, two street cars, +side by side, could pass through it; or, if it were hollowed out into +a round room with a row of seats cut out of the solid heart wood, a +round table could be set in the center and fourteen guests could be +seated about it with uncrowded ease. If it were cut into lumber, two +hundred cords of firewood and over half a million board feet[5] could +be obtained from its trunk, while its shattered crown would still lie +untouched on the forest floor, a beautiful rosy red and emerald ruin +awaiting the coming of some all-devouring forest fire. + +The Grizzly Giant has long been the subject of much unpardonable +exaggeration by popular rhapsodists. There is little doubt but that +this tree, presumably the most ancient thing endowed with life on the +planet, may fairly claim an almost fabulous antiquity. It has escaped +the usual accidents to which the Sequoia is heir, and, as a result, has +attained a longevity that far exceeds the ordinary life-span of the +species. Since this is known, the age of the Grizzly Giant can be +stated approximately. Its exact age, however, can never be ascertained +until the annual rings of its trunk are counted, and this cannot be +accomplished without felling the tree. + +[Illustration: GRIZZLY GIANT, THE ETERNAL TREE + + MARIPOSA GROVE Photo by H. S. Hoyt] + +Nor is it possible to determine the age of a Sequoia merely from its +diametric measurement. Up to the present century there prevailed +a common belief that this could be done and that great size was +indicative of great age. If a tree measured ten feet in diameter, the +supposition was that another of the same species twice as large would, +accordingly, be twice as old. However, Dudley, who spent many summers +in the logged areas of the Converse Basin, found this to be untrue +of the Sequoia. One tree thirty-nine feet in circumference proved to +be 2,171 years old; while another twice its circumference, or nearly +eighty feet, was 1,510 years old. + +From a close study of various age classifications, it was believed +that the annual growth could be calculated. But even this method has +been found unreliable. After a careful study of various ages, Jepson +determined upon an average basis of twenty years of growth to every +inch. The unfortunate tree in the Calaveras Grove which was ruthlessly +cut down that its stump might serve as a dance floor had a diameter +of twenty-seven feet, exclusive of bark. Thus, its computed age would +have been 6,480 years; whereas, its true age was but 1,300 years. +Notwithstanding the impossibility of determining the age of a Sequoia +from its diametric measurement, the ages of a representative number of +felled Sequoias are definitely known. From these it has been possible +to ascertain that the average age of the tree is between 900 and 2,100 +years. The oldest Sequoia found by Dudley showed 2,425 annual rings, +while the most ancient tree logged thus far in the Converse Basin +had an age of 3,148 years. John Muir counted over 4,000 rings on a +“majestic, old, fire-scarred monument” in the Kings River forest. +These are the oldest trees of which science has definite record. +Consequently, it would not be rash to estimate the age of the Grizzly +Giant at 3,000 years. Figures, however, of 8,000 years and more are +assuredly absurd and fabulous; and yet, they are given by several +authors of credit, and by a distinguished authority on fishes in +particular. + +A pile of stones that has looked upon great events possesses an +indefinable something that stirs the mind profoundly, lifting it +to a higher level of feeling. Byron touched the keynote of this +sentiment when he spoke of the “mountains that looked upon Marathon.” +Feeling the need of some witness of that event, his imagination +vested those blind mountains with sight. Likewise, in beholding the +gathered companies of crag and spire from the summit of Mt. Whitney, +Clarence King was overwhelmed with a sense of the power and tragedy +of geological struggle. Feeling that this splendid mass of granite +was contemporaneous with great events, he endowed it with a quality of +consciousness. Yet how infinitely more sublime is this feeling when the +object is a living thing. What changes have occurred on the earth since +the tiny seed of the Grizzly Giant sent down its first threadlike roots +to the mineral soil! Thirty centuries are spanned by its life. Even +at thought of this the mind teems with images and memories of events +that have transpired during the life and growth of this single tree, +it endows the blind yet living column with sight, places it upon some +lofty height, and imagines that far below it sees “the far-winding path +of human progress, from dim Cimmerian shores of prehistoric shadow into +the fuller yet broken and fitful light of the modern time.” + +The great white race which dominates the world today had made its +entrance on the stage of history when the Grizzly Giant began its +existence. And within the lifetime of this tree, this race, known as +Indo-European, has made vast and noble contributions to the culture of +man. Indeed, most of the triumphs of truth and genius over prejudice +and tradition in every decade since have been the triumphs of these +gifts of the Indo-European peoples. + +Drifting southward tribe by tribe from their grassland homes between +the Danube and the Black Sea, these ancestors of the present people of +Europe, came into conflict with the first civilizations four or five +thousand years ago. + +Among the first to be victorious were the Persians. These barbarians +fell upon the effeminate city-dwellers of the Tigris and Euphrates +Rivers, reduced the conquered to slaves and set themselves up as the +aristocrats of the land. But civilization conquered them and they +became refined, lost their original hardihood, and were, in their turn, +conquered by other barbarians who, too, became civilized. These were +the Greeks under Alexander the Great. They infused new blood into the +stagnant pools of culture they found in the Orient, and the product +was Hellenism. But Greece, too, fell into a decline and came under the +dominion of Rome, whose stability, organization, and power advanced +culture again. At length Rome grew weak like the others, and became +unable to defend herself against other roving hordes of Indo-Europeans. +Fortunately, however, she preserved this precious thing known as +civilization long enough for the barbarians to respect it and enabled +the Christian Church to shelter it during the Dark Ages. Such is the +drama of the growth of civilization which occurred on the earth during +the time when the Grizzly Giant was making its patient climb toward the +sun. + +The greatest empire of the Bronze Age, Egypt, had fallen; Babylon +showed evidence of decay; Palestine was at the zenith of her career; +and Homeric Greece was laying the foundation for classic Greece, when +this oldest of trees was sprouting from its tiny seed, unpacking its +tender leaves, and taking its first feeble hold on life. The Trojan War +(1194–1184 B. C.) was a very recent event, for prosperous and wealthy +Troy had been destroyed by a few Greeks who resented her commercial +rivalry. Homer was not yet born, hence the epic of the burning of Troy +and the rescue of a beautiful woman had yet to be written by this poet +of supreme genius. The Hebrew nation had not reached its golden age +under Solomon, but David had vanquished the Philistines, united his +people, driven the Canaanites out of Jerusalem and made himself King +of an extensive empire. This, then, was the status of the civilized +world around 1100 B. C. The code of Hammurabi was already more than a +thousand years old; the Great Pyramid of Gizeh was almost as old as the +Christian religion is today; the Great Wall of China had nearly nine +hundred years to wait before its first stone would be laid (214 B. C.); +while Rome, the Eternal City, lacked over three hundred and fifty years +of its traditional founding (753 B. C.) + +While the Grizzly Giant was a sapling, a Sequoia of awkward and +ungainly mien, bushy, bent, and crooked by the weight of winter snows, +the Assyrians were gaining a great ascendency in the East. They had +developed war to a high point of perfection by equipping an army +for the first time with iron weapons and chariots drawn by horses. +“Whenever they swept through a land they left a trail of ruin and +desolation behind. Around smoking heaps which had once been towns, +stretched lines of stakes on which were hung the bodies of rebellious +rulers flayed alive; while all around rose mounds and piles of the +slaughtered heaped to celebrate the great King’s triumph. Through the +clouds of dust rising along the main roads of the Empire men of the +subject kingdoms beheld great herds of cattle, horses, asses, flocks of +sheep and goats, and long lines of camels laden with gold and silver, +the wealth of the conquered, converging on the palace of Nineveh. +Before them marched the chiefs of the plundered kingdoms carrying the +severed heads of their former rulers about their necks.” And mothers +prayed then as now that there would be no more War. + +While the Grizzly Giant was yet a youth, the Persians gained the +lordship of the East and lost it later to Alexander the Great. Greece, +under Pericles, raised human culture to the highest pinnacle yet +attained; Herodotus founded history; Buddha saw his vision of the +serenity of the soul; Confucius left to posterity his code of personal +conduct. During this fruitful period of man’s advancement, the Grizzly +Giant had become conscious of its destiny and had begun to aspire +heavenward and attain its place in the sun. Having a form of conical +perfection, it was very aristocratic in its trimness. Densely clothed +with-short whip-like branches from base to tip, it gradually arose +in fringed growths which narrowed pyramid-like toward the sky with +charming grace. Other trees show their trunks and knotted boughs, but +this tree was compact like a Sequoian cone, and permitted no branch to +be seen. Its foliage was of the most exquisite fineness, resembling a +series of morning-glory blossoms strung on a string, and forming the +softest of forest scenery. The tree had a suppleness which, compared +with its present-day rigidity of old age, was as sensitive as the +leaves of the quaking aspen. + +When it reached the glory of prime and attained the lusty strength of +maturity, it had lost its youthful characteristics and assumed the +nobility of the Sequoia. Having shed the purplish, leaden-gray, flaky +bark of early years, it had taken on the deep red, fibrous bark that +distinguishes its royal nature. Having also discarded all of its lower +branches, it disclosed a straight, regularly tapering trunk fluted with +long parallel furrows. This great shaft, both inspiring in its height +and uplifting in its stateliness, supported a magnificent dome-shaped +crown. In this sumptuous top a multitude of tiny cones ripened +annually and sent forth myriads of golden-winged seeds on the Autumn +breezes. Soaring now above all the lesser trees of the forest, it lost +its desire to go yet higher. Serene and grand, this king of trees +presented that “perfect combination of beauty, strength, and grandeur +which marks it the noblest of God’s trees.” + +At this time Imperial Rome, sitting on her seven hills, was the center +of the world’s culture, its progress and power. Rome had enjoyed two +centuries of peace—the longest period of order and prosperity mankind +has ever known—and had reached her greatest territorial extent under +Hadrian (138 A. D.) Julius Caesar had destroyed the Republic; Augustus +had founded the Empire; the Star of Bethlehem had proclaimed the +Birth of the Saviour; Palestine had become a holy land; the world had +received the Christian conception of the dignity of labor and the +brotherhood of man, and Calvary had witnessed the spectacle of the +Crucifixion. Already Nero had inaugurated Christian persecutions by +illuminating his gilded palace with human torches, and the Cross had +begun in earnest its conquest of the world. + +When Alaric knocked at the Gates of Rome, the Grizzly Giant had arrived +at full maturity. Its base had become greatly enlarged, the better +to bear up its great weight; while its crown had grown more open, +displaying enormously large, gnarled, and knotty branches, each bearing +a dense mass of blue-green foliage that melted impalpably away into the +sky like vagrant shreds of clouds. + +And from the Fall of Rome to the present day, the Grizzly Giant has +passed through maturity and on into life’s late afternoon shadows. +It first saw the light of day when European civilization was in its +dawn and has continued apace with its progress, the epitome of the +advancement of the Indo-European peoples. Empires have risen, reached +the zenith of their power, and passed on to decay and oblivion within +its life time. Nations have succeeded Empires, and these, too, have +been followed in their turn by other world powers, like meteors in the +sky of history, and this aged monarch has reigned on. Like some ancient +thing of the dead ages, it seems to have been forgotten by death so +that it might live on until the sun is a burnt-out cinder in the sky. + +Impassive, resolute, and self-possessed, it stands unmoved and +unaffected by the world about it, unconcerned with its pompous shams, +its trite pride, its hollow vanity. Grizzled and picturesque with +age, it still clings to life with sublime tenacity. The lightnings of +countless clouds have failed to take its life; the snows of a thousand +winters have shattered and broken its royal crown; the storms of +over ten centuries have stripped it nearly bare of its bark and have +mercilessly washed the soil from its roots, while the insect foes and +fungi pests of three thousand years have left it as unharmed as fitful +winds leave the heavens. The oldest living thing, triumphant over +tempest and flame, verdant and fruitful, giving shelter to all seekers +thereof, and sending forth flocks of singing feathered creatures +annually from its great crown like its own flocks of winged seeds from +its cone, the Grizzly Giant stands—content. + + + + + +Chapter VII+ + + A BLOSSOM OF DECADENCE + + +Is the great Sequoia a tree that dreads tomorrow? This mournful +question was raised over a half century ago by prominent naturalists +of the period. Imbued with the idea that all living things have their +day in this world of evolving forms of life, they were unable to see a +future for a tree whose race has played so large a role in the past. + +Acquainted with the northern groves where the Sequoias are nearly +all aged, they could see in them only pitiful, fast-dwindling stands +desperately huddled in patches where environment insured conditions +ideal for tree life. This they accepted as evidence that the Sequoia +stood at the brink of extinction; that it had outlived its day of +vigor and progress, and was but a race in its dotage. The surviving +remnants were hardly more than a faint echo of past glory, displaying +“the munificence of departing greatness” but expressing, as a race, a +blossoming of decadence. + +Among the first to sound this note of alarm was Asa Gray. Addressing +a meeting of the American Association for the Advancement of Science +in 1872, he stated: “The _Sequoia gigantea_ of the Sierra exists in +numbers so limited that the separate groves may be reckoned upon the +fingers, and the trees of most of them have been counted, except near +the southern limit, where they are said to be more copious. A species +limited in individuals holds its existence by a precarious tenure, and +this has a foothold only in a few sheltered spots of a happy mean in +temperature and locally favored with moisture in summer. Even then, +for some reason or other, the pines, the firs, and even the incense +cedars possess a great advantage and wholly overpower the Sequoia in +numbers. Seedlings of the big trees occur not rarely, but in a meagre +proportion to those of associated trees; and small, indeed, is the +chance that these seedlings will attain to ‘the days of the years of +their forefathers.’ The force of numbers eventually wins. Whatever the +individual longevity, certain if not speedy is the decline of a race in +which a high death rate afflicts the young. + +“In the commonly visited groves _Sequoia gigantea_ is invested in its +last stronghold, can neither advance into more exposed positions above, +nor fall back into drier and barer ground below, nor hold its own in +the long run where it is under the present conditions; and a little +drying out of the climate of the region, which must have been much +moister than now, would precipitate its doom.” + +Man, seemingly, has conspired with Nature in bringing the Sequoia under +the inexorable law of extinction. He lacks respect for this priceless +heritage of earlier ages, for already many of the most magnificent +stands of the Sequoia have been logged. If commercialism is allowed to +go its wayward way unchecked, posterity will soon be robbed of these +last remaining remnants of the forests of the Miocene. Even now man +is bringing the age of Mammals to a close. Soon there will be no wild +life left except in those spots that are given protection. Outside of +these areas, all life will be destroyed save those plants and animals +that have been reclaimed from the wild. Then man will stand alone and +unchallenged amid the wreck of creation. + +Happily, this melancholy cry is not the expression of an actual fact, +at least, so far as the Sequoia is concerned. Enough Sequoian tracts +have been made safe from the axe to insure the future of the race and +to prevent ultimate destruction at the hands of man. Nor is the tree in +danger of natural extinction if the salvaged Sequoian tracts reproduce +in sufficient numbers to continue the struggle for existence. If this +can be proved to a reasonable certainty, then the Sequoia, as a race, +is not fated to be without descendants. + +Unlike the Redwood of the coast, the great Sequoia of the Sierra does +not reproduce by root or stump sprouts, but from seed only. The seeds +are in cones exceedingly small for so colossal a tree, being hardly +larger than a small egg. These ovule bodies are composed of thirty +to forty closely packed, woody, persistent scales, each with four to +six seeds at its base. Two years are required for the cone to mature, +and by early Autumn of the second year their olive green, purplish +color has faded to a dull yellowish brown, the cone has shrunken and +the scales parted sufficiently to liberate its seeds to the wind. So +insignificant looking are these tiny seeds that few fail to marvel +that they should contain the actual germ which produces the largest +inhabitant of the world’s forests. But the size of a mustard seed, with +membranous disk-like wings, they are so light that they make a sound +almost imperceptible to the human ear in their glancing and wavering +fall to the forest floor. + +Not less impressive is the abundance of these seeds. Over three hundred +are contained within each cone. John Muir counted on two ordinary +specimen branches over four hundred and eighty cones containing at +least one hundred and forty thousand seeds. This led him to state that +“millions of seeds are ripened annually by a single tree, and in a +fruitful year the product of one of the northern groves would contain +enough to plant all the mountain ranges of the world.” Surely, the cone +of the Sequoia presses closely upon the classic pomegranate in the +number of its seeds and may well be considered the symbol of abundance. + +During the droning days of Autumn when the air is freighted with a +calm, serious stillness, and a thousand wild creatures are occupied +with tasks that fulfill an instinctive provision for a coming want, +the squirrels are busy gathering the Sequoia cones, small as they are. +Throughout these quiet days the sound of their dropping may be heard +and grey-furred bodies may be seen coming down the great red trunks +with nervous, jerky vehemence—trunks whose bark has known the tiny +feet of others of their voluble kin decades ago. Securing the cones +they have cut down with their “ivory sickles,” these diligent little +harvesters store them away for winter use. Often forgotten, these +cones, buried at the proper depth for germination, become the means of +further perpetuating the race of the giants. + +Other creatures, too, are laying up provisions for the winter. Birds +are amazingly industrious. Some are gathering with much fuss into +flocks preparatory for southward flight, while others, with thoughts +of chill days to come, are busily searching out every cranny for a +morsel of food, mere atoms against the huge, lofty trunks. Blue-jays +are indulging in their usual pilfering, making more noise than all the +rest of the forest folk combined. Insects also seem unusually active. +Happy, gauzy-winged bits of concentrated gayety, they while away their +little hours in the mellowed sunshine. Giving no thought to the frosts +and short days to come, transitory and carefree, they offer the most +tragic contrasts, dancing and humming about the immortal Sequoia. + +When winter comes and all is in keeping with the great sleep of the +forest, it is blossom time for the Sequoia. For everything else the +beauty of life’s expansion is ended. The pines have become funereal +in their aspect; the firs have lost their gayety. The underbrush, +bowed with the weight of snow, is stripped of its bright leaves. Sear +and brown, they lie heaped in hollows where the wailing Autumn winds +left them. The flowers, too, are in their graves. The robins are +gone. Even streams are silent and buried. But the Sequoia, living an +almost enchanted existence, is quite beyond reach of every influence +suggestive of winter’s repose. Though all life about it may cease, it +must blossom forth. Producing myriads of minute flowers at the ends of +branches formed the previous year, it fairly bursts into bloom, dusting +the snowy ground, like a gigantic goldenrod, with golden pollen. + +Contrasting the prolific abundance of Sequoia seeds with the scarcity +of seedlings, it seems logical to conclude that the Sequoia is not +reproducing. It is true that seedlings are rare in the northern groves, +although seed production there is as great as elsewhere. This has been +construed as evidence that the seeds are infertile and bears out the +sad prophecy of Asa Gray that the Sequoia is a wan and weary survivor +of the Age of Reptiles and has that inferiority about it of all +things that go back into the past. Tainted with antiquity, it is +supposedly losing its power of reproduction. + +[Illustration: ALABAMA TREE, A PERFECT SEQUOIA + + MARIPOSA GROVE Photo by A. C. Pillsbury] + +The southern groves, however, throw quite a different light upon the +question. There reproduction is manifest on every hand. Companies of +seedlings are springing up everywhere determined to carry on the noble +line. They are found growing not alone in moist glens where the soil is +rich and deep, but also on rocky ledges and steep hillsides seemingly +bare of all nutriment, some even battling for life with their roots +wedged in crevices of granite beds. Exuberant and heavy with an output +of green foliage, these monarchs of the future promise anything but an +inability to maintain the forest in its most perfect vigor. + +The fact that the Sequoias in the northern part of their range show +lack of reproduction is not due to a loss of viability of their seeds, +but to other causes. Wherever the thick layer of leaf mould is stripped +away exposing the mineral soil and the proper amount of sunlight is +sifted down, plantations of thrifty seedlings promise renewal of the +race. But where the overhead shade is unbroken and the litter on the +forest floor undisturbed, the seedling succumbs long before its tiny +roots can reach down through the decaying vegetable matter to the +soil beneath. In the southern groves where the ravages of the lumber +mill and fire have been extensive enough to open up the dense shade, +tearing the ground and baring it to the sunlight, the Sequoia has +displayed an admirable ability to seed over the desolated areas. But in +the northern groves where sunlight and soil conditions are unfavorable +to the development of seedlings, reproduction is practically at a +standstill. + +In the Calaveras Grove Sudworth found a few seedlings “where storm +had made an opening in the forest and a ground fire had exposed a +little mineral soil. Apparently good use had been made of the first +opportunity for reproduction,” he goes on to state, “for young big +trees were vigorous in the full enjoyment of the sun.” The same may be +said to be true of the Mariposa Grove. Reproduction, as a whole, is +always evident when proper conditions obtain, for numberless seedlings +may be found growing on spots bared of the forest litter and open to +the sun. With continued protection these bid fair to replace the old +giants of the present. + +It is also of interest to note that seedlings are the exception +throughout the Redwood belt. This is not due to sterility of the +seeds, but to the same causes which have conspired in Big Tree forests +to prevent reproduction. The dense shade and the heavy ground litter +present conditions most unfavorable to germination. Indeed, were it not +for the Redwood’s unique habit of sprouting shoots from stumps and old +roots, they, too, would be as completely splendid in their poverty of +young trees as the northern groves of the Giant Sequoia. + +The causes, then, of the death of seedlings, especially in the northern +parts of the Sequoia’s range, are not, as was first commonly supposed, +due to the drying out of the climate, the loss in vitality of the race, +or the fact that the Sequoias are being vanquished by competitive and +more lusty species. Given favorable soil and light conditions the tree +“still possesses that strong inherent reproductive power that permits +survival of the fit.” + +It is true that the Sequoia has not extended its range since +post-glacial time. If it has, the monuments of its extension have +remained no more enduring than those left by departed bees and +butterflies, for in the gaps between the Sequoia groves, not a +root-hole or a trench made by a falling giant has been discovered. The +fact that such records are well nigh imperishable, taken in conjunction +with their abundant presence in the groves themselves, led John Muir to +conclude that their absence outside is indicative of the non-extension +of the species beyond its present limits since the glacial period that +gave the Sierras their aspect of savage grandeur. Before this epoch, +however, it is believed that the Sequoia extended in an unbroken belt +along the Sierra and that the present-day gaps mark the paths of these +great ice rivers. In fact, wherever the glaciers once wore their bodies +into the canyons, the Sequoia is found wanting. And though the tree +has not re-united its broken clusters, it has held its own ground +against rival species. John Muir took this as evidence that the Sequoia +exhibited no decadence since the glacial period. + +The unequivocal conclusion to be drawn from these facts is that the +Sequoia is in no danger of extinction. It has not lost the original +hardihood of its race. Nor is the present but the epilogue of the +imposing part it has played in the past—it is the augury of a yet more +splendid future awaiting a race whose ancestors reach back into the +borderland of the forgotten ages. + + + + + PART THREE + + Naming _the_ Sequoia + + + +Chapter VIII+ + + A NAME FOR THE AGES + + +The infinite deal of trivial fussiness that has clustered about +the botanical name of the Giant Sequoia is, indeed, a grievous +misfortune. The tree must regard it all with consummate unconcern. +Alone with the past and having a dignity not of earth in its mien +it stands as indifferent to agitation that has to do with the petty +passions of humanity as the far-away patient stars. Suggestive of +no strife save that of emulation, it looks with complacent disdain +upon life’s vanities; its strange medley of littleness and greatness, +its commingling of folly and wisdom. Yet for all the great Sequoia’s +majestic aloofness, its name has become embroiled in endless bickerings +and surrounded with technicalities apt to nip any budding enthusiasm +for botanical nomenclature. + +In order to avoid interminable confusion it is necessary that the +plants of the earth be systematically classified and that there be no +deviation from the rules governing their classification. Foremost of +the rules that have been laid down is that of priority. This dictates +that the first name given a new plant in point of time must prevail. +If contention or ambiguity arise, priority decides the case, and the +first botanical designation bestowed stands for all time, regardless +of whether it be appropriate or not. Designations of a subsequent date +are entitled to rank as synonyms only. Because of its rigor, this law +should admonish botanists to exercise good taste in giving scientific +names to hitherto unnamed plants. Another important rule is that +the name of the new plant must appear in an accredited publication, +otherwise it is technically regarded as unpublished and consequently +discarded. + +Shortly after the discovery of the Calaveras Grove, the tale of its +wonderful Big Trees found its way into print. The Sonora _Herald_ +appears to have been the first newspaper to give an account of the +Giant Sequoia. This was republished in the _Echo du Pacific_ of San +Francisco, appearing later in the London _Athenaeum_ of July 23, 1853. +Whitney believes the latter to be the first notice of the tree to +appear in Europe. + +Naturally, these accounts excited botanists. Specimens of the Big Tree +were presented to the California Academy of Sciences in San Francisco +early in 1853. Unfortunately, however, the Academy was unable to +properly describe the new plant, since it had no references on hand +which would enable its botanists to publish a proper scientific +description of the mammoth tree. Specimens were subsequently sent East +to Torrey and Gray, but again ill fortune attended them and they were +lost in crossing the Isthmus of Panama. Meanwhile, William Lobb, an +English seed collector, on seeing specimens of the recently discovered +vegetable wonder, believed he recognized a species new to science. +He secured a sufficient quantity of Sequoia cones, foliage, and wood +to characterize the tree and departed for England in the Autumn of +1853. These specimens found their way into the hands of Lindley, who +hastily described them in Gardner’s _Chronicle_ of December 24th, of +the same year. Thus Lindley, a botanist of no particular eminence, was +the first to give a scientific description of the Giant Sequoia, and +American botanists lost both the opportunity and honor of naming a very +remarkable plant. + +Overlooking the close relationship of the Big Tree to the already +scientifically described Redwood, Lindley considered it “an entirely +new coniferous form ... an evergreen of a most imperial aspect,” which +he called _Wellingtonia_, adding the specific name of _Gigantea_. The +Duke of Wellington had been dead but a year and his greatness had +not yet gained the perspective of historical time; hence, Lindley’s +designation. “We think,” he wrote, “that no one will differ from us in +feeling that the most appropriate name to be proposed for the most +gigantic tree which has been revealed to us by modern discovery, is +that of the greatest of modern heroes. Wellington stands as high above +his contemporaries as the California tree above all the surrounding +foresters. Let it, then, bear henceforth the name of _Wellingtonia +Gigantea_.” + +In bestowing on an essentially American tree the name of an essentially +English hero, Lindley showed execrable taste. He might have foreseen +that such an act was almost certain to fire those who felt a consuming +contempt for anything British. Promptly the fine rules of botanical +nomenclature were thrown overboard, and Americans, eager to make a +self-righteous display of their enmity, proceeded on no principles, and +with terrible energy of language, to disturb the designation. Gradually +the agitation centered upon changing the name _Wellingtonia_ to one +bearing reference to Washington. Nor was any evidence brought forward +considered too trivial to substantiate the reasons for this change. + +Perhaps the most withering rebuke of all was that of Winslow. In the +_California Farmer_ of August, 1854, appeared the following: ... “as +Washington and his generation declared themselves independent of all +English rule and political dictation, so American naturalists must, in +this case, express their respectful dissent from all British scientific +stamp acts. If the Big Tree be a _Taxodium_, let it be called now and +forever _Taxodium Washingtonium_.... No name can be more appropriate; +and if, in accordance with the views of American botanists, I trust +the scientific honor of our country may be vindicated from foreign +indelicacy by boldly discarding the name now applied to it, and by +affixing to it that of the immortal man whose memory we all love, and +honor, and teach our children to adore.” + +Even Asa Gray felt entitled to rush into the field. In September of the +same year he published, on his own authority, an account stating that +the Redwood and the Big Tree did not differ sufficiently to warrant the +establishment of a new genus; adding “The so-called _Wellingtonia_ will +hereafter bear the name imposed by Dr. Torrey, namely, that of _Sequoia +Gigantea_.” But since there is no documentary evidence to show that +Torrey had published this description, the quibble remained unsettled. +The English stood at their guns and the storm raged on. Surely, if so +venerable a Sequoia as the Grizzly Giant could have been endowed with +a consciousness and could have thought about this ostentatious parade +of pettiness, it would not have been inspired with that “high and +ennobling sense” of the intellectual destiny of the human race. + +Happily, the issue was quieted for a time.[6] At a meeting of the +Société Botanique de France, held on June 28, 1854, the illustrious +French botanist, J. Decaisne, discussed at length the relationship +of the Redwood and the Big Tree. He pointed out that though they +differed in leaf structure, the former having yew-like leaves in two +ranks, the latter small, scaly, cypress-like leaves in regular spirals, +the two species belonged to the same genus _Sequoia_. Therefore, in +compliance with the rules of botany, he called the new species _Sequoia +Gigantea_. Other botanists quickly recognized the correctness of his +view, and _Wellingtonia Gigantea_ was permitted to fall upon evil days. +Nevertheless, it is due to this accident of the generic agreement +between the Redwood and the Big Tree that the Giants of the Sierra bear +the name of Sequoia instead of that of Wellington. + +But this botanical storm had no sooner died down than another developed +in its place. Inasmuch as the derivation of the name Sequoia was +uncertain, this was sufficient provocation to call forth much diversity +of opinion. Again spectacled wise men sought to satisfy their passion +for exactness and their propensity to doubt. Guesses fantastic in the +extreme were advanced and the subject presents another silly spectacle +of pedantry. + +According to Jepson, the Redwood was collected by Thaddeus Haneke in +1791. Archibald Menzies, a member of the famous Vancouver Expedition, +is reputed to be its second botanical collector. Specimens of his +collection came before the notice of Lambert, the able English +botanist, who, considering it as of the same genus as the Bald +Cypress, published it in 1824 as _Taxodium Sempervirens_. However, this +designation was not allowed to stand, for twenty-three years later +the Redwood was recognized as a distinct genus. In the year 1847 the +celebrated Austrian, Endlicher, established the genus _Sequoia_ and +gave the world the now well-known _Sequoia sempervirens_. + +Unfortunately, Endlicher failed to make a statement concerning the +origin of the word Sequoia, leaving its meaning to be inferred. Gordon +in his _Pinetum_ stated that it was probably derived from the Latin +for “sequence,” alluding to the fact that the Redwood was “a follower +or remnant of several extinct colossal species.” Kotch was inclined to +hold the name in light estimation, claiming its source to be entirely +fanciful. De Candolle, a contemporary with Endlicher, thought it of +California origin, probably taken “from some native word and written +more or less correctly.” But others have kept their heads better in the +matter. Both Hooker and Englemann believed it derived from the Cherokee +Indian, Sequoyah. At least, it is edifying to know that Endlicher was +an eminent linguist as well as a botanist. It is not improbable, then, +that he was acquainted with Sequoyah’s colorful career and named the +tree in honor of this aboriginal illiterate, this magnificent savage, +who groped in darkness to give his people letters, and found the light. + + + + + +Chapter IX+ + + SEQUOYAH + + +Had Sequoyah lived thirty centuries ago, Plutarch, and after him +Shakespeare, would have made him immortal. Had he invented an alphabet +then, similar to that which he invented for his people, the Cherokees, +he would have been hailed as one of the benefactors of the human +race. But as it is, the world’s knowledge concerning his achievement +may be said to sleep. The records of his life are hidden from the +average reader, while his fame is suffering the fate of many worthy of +antiquity—perishing from memory for want of an historian. Already the +twilight of uncertainty is throwing its shadows across his history. + +Yet no savage is more worthy of remembrance. The life of Sequoyah was +radiant with the prime quality of greatness—_virtue_. It is true that +mankind admires the men and women of the past who have spoken great +words, done great deeds, and suffered noble sorrows. Few of these, +however, possess that quality of virtue which inspires emulation. +Indeed, only those whose names are written in gold on the sombre +chronicles of the past inspire to imitation. Sequoyah’s achievement +easily entitles him a place among the great characters of all time, +while his life of service stirs a strong desire to emulate, for he +strove to save his unhappy race from extinction in the noblest way a +savage ever sought. + +Despite this, his name and fame go untrumpeted and unsung. Meanwhile +mankind is frantically fashioning statues to rest idly on pedestals, or +building magnificent edifices whose marbles glisten in the sunlight, +in commemoration of men of frailer virtue. Yet Sequoyah’s name is +borne by apartment houses and tomato cans. Apparently it remains for +the most gigantic and remarkable tree on the surface of the globe, the +Sequoia, to save his name from oblivion and to attempt to correct the +indifference of a so-called superior race. + +Authorities are agreed that the birth, breeding, and fortune of +Sequoyah were low and that his greatness rested on a life of labor. +They are in disagreement, however, as to the date and place of his +birth, and have been able merely to offer conjectures concerning his +parentage. These mists of uncertainty that surround Sequoyah’s earliest +years are, undoubtedly, due to conditions of early frontier life. + +The fur trader, who represented the outer edge of the advancing wave +of European civilization, was the first to penetrate the American +wilderness in his exploitation of beasts. Early in the settlement of +America he entered the country of the Cherokee which then embraced the +beautiful reaches of the southern Appalachians. The Cherokees received +the trader with hospitality and kindness, and a lucrative traffic in +furs soon resulted; the trader offering professions of regard and +extracting exorbitant profits. To better secure the faith of the +savage, thereby insuring the success of their venture, many of these +traders married Cherokee women. Some, fascinated by this wild life of +freedom, reverted to savagery and became “squaw men,” but the great +majority adopted this method of wife-taking to avoid a bill for board +and lodging, and then speedily disappeared as soon as their trading +enterprise was over. + +An episode of this nature occurred just prior to the termination of +the French and Indian War. Of the married life of this couple there +is little record. It is quite certain, however, that it was of short +duration and that the trader concerned gathered together his effects +and went the lighthearted way of other traders before him, and was +never heard of again. The babe born to this deserted mother soon +afterwards was called by the Cherokees George Gist, presumably the +name of the father, while the mother bestowed upon the infant the more +musical name of Sequoyah. + +Tradition has it that the mother of Sequoyah was a woman of no common +character and energy. To the end she remained true to her faithless +husband and lived alone, maintaining herself by her own efforts and +caring for her babe with a devotion that would put many of her +more polished sisters to shame. Unaided, she cleared a little patch, +carrying her babe about while she broke the ground with a short stick +and planted it with Indian corn. “That she is a woman of some capacity +is evident from the undeviating affections for herself which she +inspired in her son, and the influence she exercised over him. This +is all the more extraordinary since Indian women are looked upon in +the light of servants rather than companions of man, and males are +taught early to despise the character and occupations of women.” But +with Sequoyah it seems to have been otherwise, for he carried a lofty +respect for his mother to the grave. + +[Illustration: SEQUOYAH + + From original painting made in 1828] + +As a babe, it is said that Sequoyah had an air of infantile gravity +about him which was emphasized by a contemplative light which shone +in his little black eyes. As a boy he was much alone and thoughtful, +having no fondness for the rude sports of others of his age. He +preferred to assist his mother rather than to become proficient with +the bow. It is said that he occupied his boyish leisure carving milk +pails, skimmers, and other useful objects, displaying at this early age +the mechanical side of his genius. He even milked the few cows with +which fortune had favored his mother, and on occasions aided her in her +labors in the field. This failure to scorn a woman’s pursuit and trim +his sail to the unchanging breeze of Indian tradition only brought +down on him a torrent of abuse from grey-beards and caused youths to +rail at him like chattering birds. Young Sequoyah, however, calmly and +silently bore all this disgrace and followed the dictates of his reason +with unflinching gravity—a characteristic he displayed throughout his +life and which some hold as the keystone of his greatness. + +When Sequoyah attained manhood’s estate, the Thirteen Colonies had won +their independence, and Daniel Boone had led the first settlers into +the blue grass country of the Cumberland. In these times the English, +French, and Spanish hotly vied with each other for the control of +the valuable fur trade of the “Old Southwest,” and their pack-trains +threaded their way out of Cherokee country in unceasing strings, +bearing the rich peltry of the wilderness. In this work of destruction +of wild life the Indian had innocently come to play, by far, the major +role. Nor is it altogether improbable that Sequoyah, who by now had +become a hunter, aided in the extermination of the buffalo that still +lingered in the valleys of the Ohio and the Tennessee. + +It is also likely that Sequoyah would not have escaped the degradation +into which the red man was falling had not an accident befallen him +while hunting which rendered him a cripple for the rest of his life. +The coming of the rifle, a new and powerful sinew of war, and of the +chase, brought in its train a hopeless dependence on unscrupulous +traders for powder and lead. The introduction of whiskey further +conspired in the ruin of a proud people. Drinking had become the pledge +of cordiality on the frontier, and Sequoyah had become as much addicted +to the vice as his fellow hunters. Later events proved that Sequoyah +possessed an intellect elevated above the sphere in which it was +placed. Had he not become a cripple, however, it is doubtful whether +he would have meditated upon the decaying fortunes of his race, which +meditation led him to make his remarkable invention. Thus, paradoxical +as it may at first appear, misfortune often precipitates a chain of +events that ultimately end in accomplishment of great import. + +Unable to follow the pursuits of manhood, Sequoyah now faced the +humiliation of donning petticoats and of performing the servile labors +of woman’s lot among the Cherokees. Such a prospect would, indeed, +have broken the spirit of an ordinary Indian, and especially so if a +stain had been affixed to his character such as that which Sequoyah +had incurred in his youth by assisting his mother. But it must be +remembered that Sequoyah was not of common clay. The traits manifested +in infancy and boyhood now stood him in good stead and opportunity was +given to bring them to fruition. One trait, an extraordinary mechanical +ability, was first pressed into service; the other, a remarkably +analytical and philosophical mind, was given leisure in which to +become mellow, until, in the ripeness of time, it should find its +proper exercise. + +The Cherokees were a people fond of display. It occurred to the +intuitive mind of Sequoyah that an opulent livelihood could be secured +in the manufacture of silver ornaments. As a hunter he had visited the +white settlements and had seen the blacksmiths smelt ore and fashion +trinkets. Endowed with good powers of observation and possessed of +an innate skill with his hands, he set to work without the aid of an +instructor to make his own bellows and tools. Within a comparatively +brief time he became a master in the art of silver working and in the +end became such an expert artisan that he developed this art to the +highest point attained by the Indians of North America. + +Astonished, his people came to gaze upon one of their own race who +possessed the skill and ingenuity of the white man. Such uncommon +accomplishment merited high recognition. He became a wonder in their +eyes. The fame of his handiwork spread far and near, and they flocked +to his door, eager to give him employment. Then it was that Sequoyah +began to enjoy an unprecedented popularity. Affable, accommodating, +and unassuming, having a nature too truly great to be spoiled by the +recognition of his superiority, success only nourished the greater +qualities within him. The women especially attracted by his skill, +bestowed their smiles upon him, but, like Alexander, “he found a +counter charm in the beauty of self-government and sobriety and on the +strength of this passed them by, as so many statues.” The braves of the +tribe likewise courted his friendship and his shop became the center +for male gossip. Since Sequoyah was not lacking in the social graces +of his tribe and since the munificence of his table increased with his +fortune, he came more and more to spend his time in receiving visitors +and in discharging the duties of hospitality. Lastly, even the elders +of the tribe sought his favor and welcomed his voice in their councils. + +Wishing to identify his wares, Sequoyah employed a literate half-breed, +Charles Hicks, to write his name, from which he made a die. With this +he stamped his name on all the silver he fabricated. Many of these +ornaments remain in the proud possession of the scattered and forgotten +remnants of the Cherokees. Prized beyond price, they are a reminder +of the glory of the past. Just as the crumbling ruins of antiquity +speak of the pride and pomp of yesterday, so do these treasured silver +objects remind their possessors of the Golden Age of the Cherokee. + +As the years went on, Sequoyah’s philosophical nature ripened and +he came to ponder on the future of his fast dwindling race. This +problem was probably first brought to his attention during the social +gatherings held under his roof, for the Cherokees were sensitive to +the superiority of civilized man and quick to note the cardinal +points of difference between themselves and the whites. Often they had +wondered at the ability of the white man to “talk on paper.” But after +considerable inquiry they became convinced that the power of recording +and communicating thoughts by means of writing was the product of some +mysterious gift which the white man alone possessed. Nevertheless, +Sequoyah was unable to dismiss the problem as lightly from his mind as +his brethren had done. It was odious to Luther that the devil had all +the best tunes; likewise it was odious to Sequoyah that the white man +should have a monopoly on the power of written expression. At length +he decided that writing was not the result of sorcery, but a faculty +of the mind which could be acquired. Hence, he concluded that he could +solve this mystery and give his people “talking paper” like that of the +whites. + +His reflections on this problem were further stimulated by the +progress of events. The day of the trader had passed, while that of +the settler had come. The swelling tide from Europe had settled around +the Cherokees, and the frontier of settlement had begun to continually +spill over into the Cherokee country. What was even more maddening, +encroachments were on the increase and held no promise of abating. +At last in despair, the Cherokees appealed to the “Great Father” in +Washington to stem the tide. A treaty followed, clipping away a +goodly portion of their ancestral domain. The ink on it was hardly dry +before another wrested from them still more thousands of acres of rich +land. In each treaty the Federal Government recognized the Cherokee +claims and titles and solemnly declared it to be “the last and final +adjustment of all claims and differences.” Obviously, the Cherokees +were shocked by these acts of treachery. The fact that the hand of the +“Great Father” was gloved and that it purported to throw continual +favors in their path did not make them less apprehensive of the menace. +Yet they were convinced of the folly of an appeal to arms through a +realization of the inequality of the struggle. Therefore, they did that +which no other Indian tribe in the face of calamity has ever done. They +attempted to combat civilization by becoming civilized themselves. At a +great council they organized themselves to form a Federal Union after +the United States, and set to cultivating the arts of peace and the +ways of civilization. + +By this time Sequoyah had become imbued with the idea that the secret +of the white man’s superiority lay in his power of communication by +writing. Indeed, he struck a salient note here, for the invention +of writing has made tremendously for the superior advantages of +the civilized races over the primitive. “The mind and the pen have +ultimately, in all ages, been mightier than the sword. Rome, the +conquerer, was led in chains by Greece, who, though herself over-run +by barbaric Romans, compelled them to adopt, respect, and maintain her +institutions.” History, in fact, is replete with instances of people +who have been able to ward off the effects of conquest because they +were intellectually above their victors. But this superiority has +always preceded conquest; it has _never_ followed it. Unfortunately, +Sequoyah was ignorant of this. Nevertheless, the mere fact that such an +ideal had its birth in the mind of an untutored savage is sufficient to +vest it with sublimity. + +Inspired with the thought of saving his people from conquest by giving +them the power of the pen, he took up his great work at the age of +forty-nine, in the last year of Jefferson’s Presidency. Ceasing his +labors as a silversmith, he began carving strange characters out of +bark and spending hours wrapped in thought. His fellow tribesmen were +unable to understand his singular behavior. They thought it but the +work of madness for their great silversmith to lay aside his hammer +and bellows, to quit his social circle, and of a sudden to become +seclusive. Sequoyah, however, refused to reveal his secret, knowing +full well the attitude of his fellow tribesmen in regard to the +impossibility of discovering a supposedly supernatural power of the +whites. His popularity suffered a quick decline, and his friends fell +away like leaves from Autumn trees attempting to justify their actions +by scoffing and sneering. Then Sequoyah began to taste in full +measure the vinegar of derision and to learn that gratitude is but a +lively sense of favors to come. Notwithstanding, he preserved the usual +calm behavior and serenity of mind that had attended him from infancy, +always turning from the storm without to the sunshine of hope within +him. And after twelve years—years of persevering labor and repeated +failure—years of ridicule in which his faith in his people must have +been sorely tried—he perfected his remarkable invention of the Cherokee +Alphabet. + +[Illustration: THE INVINCIBLE SEQUOIA + + The large fire-made cavity in the Haverford suggests the tree’s + great vitality + + MARIPOSA GROVE Photo by H. S. Hoyt] + +It is a notable fact that the great works of the imagination have +usually been produced by men nearly innocent of schooling and +scholarship. Homer, Shakespeare, Cervantes, Burns, and Abraham Lincoln +were all self-taught men. Sequoyah was an absolute illiterate, yet +he invented an alphabet. He had no acquaintanceship with the English +language, for he disdained the aid of missionaries, and for this reason +the most elemental principles of our alphabet were unknown to him. He +reasoned, and with no little correctness, that a knowledge of English +would be of no avail because of the peculiarities of the Cherokee +language. With his own unaided intellect he fashioned a syllabary so +extraordinary that it astonishes even the learned, and proved himself +a mental giant. Evidently he did not recognize the stops of the human +mind, which is almost wholly imitative. Indeed, some of his biographers +are unwilling to give him this honor, claiming that his invention +was not altogether free from borrowing. But for all that, there are +still those who hold that Bacon wrote that which is attributed to +Shakespeare. Because man shows an extreme poverty throughout the +history of invention, because he rarely tries to do over again that +which has been once accomplished, and because he is quicker to grasp +and more capable of appropriating, independent inventions are the +exception rather than the rule. It must be conceded, in all fairness, +that Sequoyah’s syllabary was an invention “par excellence.” + +Having first conceived the notion that speech could be represented by +characters or signs and that if these signs were uniform they would +convey the idea intended by the writer, he set out to devise a symbol +for each word or idea of the Cherokee tongue. His first step, in other +words, was in the direction of the simple pictograph. As the experiment +progressed, however, his symbols multiplied fearfully, until, at the +end of three years he had thousands of them. It would have been almost +impossible for the human mind to retain such a complex multitude of +signs. Happily, Sequoyah had a sufficient sense of the practical to +realize this. Hence, he abandoned this experiment and started again by +making a study of the construction of language itself. + +Even a people as cultivated as the Chinese have never made the next +stride which Sequoyah took. The Chinese still employ the lowest stage +of writing in all its absurd prolixity with the result that long years +of study and a memory above the average are required for its mastery. +This is largely the reason, too, why intellectual democracy is so +noticeably absent in China. The Chinese language is too elaborate +in structure, too laborious in use, and too inflexible in form to +thoroughly saturate China’s teeming millions and to meet the need of a +simple, swift, and lucid communication of thought. Our alphabet, on the +other hand, answers these requirements. “It is because the Egyptians +passed into the glory of the true alphabet that the Phoenicians +simplified and improved it, and that the Greeks were able to transmit +it to occidental civilization that western nations have been able to +make such tremendous mental progress and established such a wide and +common knowledge.” It is quite obvious that Sequoyah was not blundering +when he discarded his pictograph system if he would achieve his ideal. + +After long and patient study he began a search for the unity of speech. +At length he discovered that _sound_ was the key in the construction +of language. Then by attentive listening for another period he +discovered that the sounds in the words spoken by the Cherokees could +be analyzed and classified and could be represented by hardly more +than a hundred syllables. Further analysis revealed two distinct types +of sounds, vowels and consonants. Classifying the sounds according +to this division, he found that there were six vowel and seventy-two +consonant sounds. Thirty-seven sounds still remained unclassified. +By dint of further analysis he found that these were of a hissing or +guttural nature. In an ingenious way he represented the former by seven +combinations and the latter by one. As a result, in this expeditious +manner he was able to write a copious language vastly wealthier in its +vocabulary than ours, with but eighty-five characters. + +The best authorities are agreed that our alphabet is, in some respects, +the greatest invention of the human mind. Yet it is not the product of +a single mind, but the accretion of Egyptian, Phoenician, and Greek +wisdom extending over a period of at least three thousand years. +Excellent as our alphabet is, it fails to outrank that of Sequoyah in +point of felicity and ease of mastery. Ours is superior in that it +goes to the unit of speech, _sound_, and has characters that stand for +sound. Sequoyah’s alphabet had characters that stood for combinations +of sounds or syllables. Our alphabet is the only sound-for-a-sign +system of writing yet invented. It is an alphabet of letters, while +that of Sequoyah was an alphabet of syllables. James Mooney claims that +it ranks second to all systems of writing ever known to the world. +It certainly could not have been the work of other than a gigantic +intellect. + +It was not without considerable difficulty that Sequoyah induced a few +skeptical and superstitious Cherokees to learn his alphabet after he +had completed it in 1811. These few who were the first to try it out +did so merely to expose the delusions of the alphabet-maker, but as the +lesson progressed, though they had come to scoff, they began to admire +until, finally, when the lesson was finished they were convinced that +the seemingly impossible had been achieved—that the Cherokees could +“talk on paper” like the whites. This time Sequoyah’s rise to fame was +meteoric. News of his invention spread like wildfire throughout the +tribe, and, at a public test made before the assembled Houses of the +Cherokee Congress, his alphabet was officially adopted as the means of +elevating the tribe. Sequoyah had become the Cadmus[7] of his nation. + +Then occurred a spectacle without a parallel among primitive people; +that of gray-bearded savages studying in groups with unfettered zeal +in order to become the equal of the white man in knowledge. Almost +overnight the entire nation became an academy. To be able to read and +write became a craze with the Cherokees. Never was Plato’s fine phrase +of a people being “possessed and maddened with a passion for knowledge” +better exemplified. Mass meetings in abundance were held and the new +method of “talking on paper” was taught virtually wholesale. It was +even common to see groups teaching each other in cabins and along +the roadside. “Within a few months thousands of formerly illiterate +savages, without the aid of schools or the expense of time or money, +could read and write.” In fact, by the time the Monroe Doctrine was +promulgated in 1813, reading and writing had become so general among +the Cherokees that “they carried on a correspondence by letter between +different parts of the nation and were in the habit of making receipts +and giving promissory notes in affairs of trade. Directions were even +inscribed on trees indicating the different roads.” + +This is manifest evidence of the ease with which Sequoyah’s syllabary +was learned. “In my own observation,” states Phillips, “Indian children +will take one or two years to master the English printed and written +language, but in a few days can read and write in Cherokee. They do +the latter, in fact, as soon as they learn to shape letters. As soon +as they master the alphabet they have got rid of all the perplexing +questions that puzzle the brains of our children. It is not too much to +say that a child will learn in a month by the same effort as thoroughly +in the language of Sequoyah that which in ours consumes the time of our +children for at least two years.” + +Sequoyah next paid a visit to the Arkansas Cherokees. This band had +separated from the main body when the Cherokees decided to combat +civilization with civilization and had moved west where they could +enjoy the ancient ways of their ancestors. Though this body had spurned +all civilized innovations and had clung slavishly to tradition, +strangely enough, they readily seized the new art Sequoyah brought with +him and learned it with a zest that almost put their eastern brethren +in the shade. + +In the Autumn of this same year, 1823, the Cherokee Council publicly +acknowledged Sequoyah’s service to the nation by sending him through +their President, the noted John Ross, a silver medal commemorative of +his achievement. So highly had the Cherokees come to esteem Sequoyah’s +greatness that five years later they elected him to represent them +in Washington. There he was cordially received and recognized as an +intellectual peer. On this occasion he sat for his portrait. The Treaty +of Washington of 1828 reveals that he still enjoyed high favor from the +Government, for it provided for a sum to be paid to Sequoyah and his +heirs “for the great benefits he has conferred upon the Cherokee people +in the beneficial results they are now experiencing from the use of the +alphabet discovered by him.” It is worthy to note that for many years +the Government paid this pension—_the only literary pension it has ever +paid_. + +The Cherokees had now passed into a state of semi-civilization. They +had a National Congress which had passed laws against intemperance +and polygamy. They had a national press and a national newspaper, the +_Cherokee Phoenix_. The first copy of this unique paper appeared on +February 18, 1828. It was printed in both English and Cherokee by a +hand press which had been purchased in Boston, shipped by water to +Augusta, Georgia, and then transported laboriously by wagon over two +hundred miles to the Cherokee national capital. Such a journalistic +record is without rival in primitive society, and the _Cherokee +Phoenix_ holds the honor of being the father of all aboriginal +newspapers. + +Rapid strides, economically as well as politically and intellectually, +had been made. Many Cherokees had amassed considerable wealth and +enjoyed some of the refinements and luxuries of a more polished +society. The majority of them possessed herds of cattle, together +with horses, hogs, and sheep. Husbandry was so efficiently practiced +that some products were actually exported, as evidenced by the large +cargoes of wheat and tobacco that were floated on flat-boats down +the Tennessee to New Orleans. The manufacture of woolen and cotton +cloth had even assumed a productiveness permitting of exportation. In +short, prosperity was on the boom and everything augured well for the +Cherokees’ happy attainment of civilization. + +But fate had willed it otherwise. The Cherokees had reached the zenith +of their advance. Gold was discovered in their domain in 1829. This +event led to dishonorable deeds of the white man and gave the annals +of American-Indian history another black page. In their rapacity, the +border ruffians of Georgia violated the sacredness of treaties and with +a vicious disregard for the rights of their legal owners, appropriated +by violence the rich lands of the Cherokees. Gradually all the fine +achievements of these splendid savages melted into thin air. When the +United States Supreme Court decreed that the misappropriated Cherokee +lands be returned to their rightful owners, President Jackson, a +frontiersman and an Indian hater, defied its authority with his famous +rebuke, “John Marshall has made his decision, now let him enforce +it.” Finally, after nearly nine years of agitation and disquietude, +negotiations with the Government ended in the Ridge Treaty, an infamous +concoction which was brazenly sustained. By its means the remaining +fragment of what was once the Cherokee Nation were exiled at the point +of the bayonet to a country beyond the Mississippi. + +Unfortunately, the new home allotted to the Cherokees proved to be +inhospitable. The land was claimed by the Osage as their ancestral +hunting ground, and the already impoverished Cherokees had to hold it +by force of arms. Nor were the Osage the sole authors of their woes. +The Arkansas band resented this intrusion of their eastern brethren. +Fratricidal war broke out and the tribe became further wasted. Warred +on from without, and torn by strife within, the Cherokees, as a people, +were in danger of extinction. Foreseeing this end, Sequoyah and others +attempted to avert it. As President of the Council of the Arkansas +band, he was largely instrumental in effecting a reunion which put an +end to strife and declared the Eastern and Western Cherokee “one body +politic under the style and title of the Cherokee Nation.” + +Sequoyah was by this time in his eighty-second year and well merited +the boon of rest and relaxation. Lest he leave no margin to his life +and crowd it to the very end in his devotion to his people, he retired +from active political life. But his forceful mind denied his crippled +and aged body the rest it deserved. Speculative ideas possessed him and +he formulated a theory that he could devise a universal alphabet for +the red man. Under the dominion of this newer and deeper ambition he +came to feel that he had yet a mission to perform. Though his people +had suffered an excess of calamity, his spirit was unbroken. Having +sounded the depths of human disappointment, he rose again, full of +courage and faith in the salvation of his race. Not in the habit of +taking the advice of others and not having lost one jot of his most +distinguishing characteristic—intensity of purpose—he determined to +make an investigation among the remote tribes of the West in search of +some common element of speech. + +Securing a few articles of Indian trade and loading these on an ox cart +driven by a Cherokee boy, Sequoyah set out upon his last quest in 1843. +Such a linguistic crusade the world will doubtless never again witness. +Everywhere he was received by his red-skinned brothers of the plain and +of the mountain with the utmost respect. Eagerly they furnished him +with the means of prosecuting his inquiries. That reticence which they +so notoriously displayed to Caucasian scientists was absent. Nor is +this to be wondered at, for here was a scientist of their own race who +had come to renown and they rested assured that he came not among them +to discover their inferiorities or to prepare the way for exploitation. + +With his boy companion he crossed the boundless plains, and, like +Kipling’s _Explorer_, “hurried on in hope of water or turned back in +search of grass.” Puzzling his way through the Rockies, he camped in +meadows of softest velvet sweet with flowers, or above the tree line +amid the grandeur of frost shattered peaks and perpetual snows. Then +turning toward that scorched and waterless expanse unrelieved by the +shade of a solitary tree, he crossed the Colorado Desert and entered +the Mexican Sierras. Here, it is said, his boy companion died of +exposure and hardship, and somewhere in the silent places of these +desolate mountains this grand old man buried the lone partner of his +wanderings. + +An ancient myth current in the lodges of his forefathers told of a lost +band of Cherokees who had wandered ages ago into northern Mexico. Vexed +by chilling frosts and scorching heat, Sequoyah began a search for his +lost kinsmen. Enfeebled of limb and yet strong of heart, he pursued +his solitary way, ever straining toward the distant horizon to find +what might be beyond. But he had over-estimated his strength, and not +far from the Rio Grande, in the State of Tamaulipas, this “splendid +wayfarer” reached the end of his trail and watched with fast-dimming +eyes the pearl-gray smoke of his last camp-fire curl toward the heavens +as he drew nearer to eternity. + +The greatest of his race, Sequoyah sleeps beyond the Rio Grande. No +monument marks the last resting place of this American Cadmus. His +bones, denied the privilege of sepulchre, were picked by slinking +wolves and wheeling buzzards, and left to bleach in the sun until the +winds had buried them in the sands. His alphabet, too, is destined to +pass away with his race, but his name will never pass into oblivion, +for it is borne by the largest, the oldest, the most magnificent of +trees, the noble Sequoia. This alone is sufficient to preserve his +memory forever. + + + + + BIBLIOGRAPHY[8] + + + GENERAL + ++Bigelow, John+—1856. “Descriptions of Remarkable and Valuable +California Trees.” U. S. War Dept. _Pacific Railroad Report_, +1855–1861; Vol. 4, Pt. 2, pp. 22–23. + ++Clark, Galen+—1907. _Big Trees of California._ (Reflex Pub. Co., +Redondo, Cal.), 104 pp. + ++Dudley, William R.+ and others—1900. “A Short Account of the Big Trees +of California.” Forest Service, 1887–1913. _Bulletin 28_, pp. 1–30. + ++Grant, Madison+—1919. “Saving the Redwoods.” (New York Zoological +Society, New York). _Bulletin_, 1897–1924; Vol. 22, pp. 91–118. 1920. +“Saving the Redwoods.” (National Geographical Society, Washington, D. +C.) _National Geographic Magazine_, 1892–1924; Vol. 37, pp. 519–536. + ++Hooker, W. T.+—1854. “Wellingtonia Gigantea.” (Lovell Reeve Co., +London). _Curtis’ Botanical Magazine_, Third Series, 1845–1904; Vol. +10, Tab. 4777, 4778. + ++Hutchings, J. M.+—1886. _In the Heart of the Sierras._ (Pacific Press, +Oakland). pp. 241–247. + ++Jepson, W. L.+—1923. _Trees of California._ (Independent Press, San +Francisco). pp. 13–30. + ++Lemmon, John G.+—1890. “Cone Bearers of California.” (California State +Board of Forestry, Sacramento). Biennial _Report_, 1886–1921, Vol. 3., +pp. 157–168. 1898. “Conifers of the Pacific Slope.” (The Sierra Club, +San Francisco.) _Bulletin_, 1893–1924; Vol. 2, pp. 171–2. + ++Muir, John+—1894. _The mountains of California._ (Century Co., New +York). pp. 197–200. 1912. _The Yosemite._ (Century Co., New York). pp. +127–147. 1901. _Our National Parks._ (Houghton-Mifflin Co., Boston). +pp. 268–330. + ++Murray, Andrew+—1859. “Notes on California Trees.” (Neill and Co., +Edinburgh). _Edinburgh Philosophical Journal._ New Series, 1855–1864, +Vol. 2, pt. 2, pp. 205–221. + ++Shinn, Charles H.+—1889. “The Big Trees.” (Garden and Forest Pub. Co., +New York). _Garden and Forest_, 1889–1897; Vol. II, pp. 614–615. + ++Sudworth, George B.+—1908. _Forest Trees of the Pacific Slope._ U. +S. Forest Service, pp. 138–145. 1900. “Forest Reservations.” U. S. +Geological Survey Annual _Report_, 1880–1913, Vol. 21, pp. 526–532. + ++Veitch, James+—1881. _A Manual of Coniferae._ (James Veitch and Sons, +London). pp. 204–212. + ++Williamson, R. S.+—1856. “Mammoth Trees of California.” U. S. War +Dept. _Pacific Railroad Report_, 1855–1861; Vol. 5, pp. 257–259. + + + THE AULD LANG SYNE OF TREES + ++Gray, Asa+—1872. “The Sequoia and its History.” (Peabody Academy of +Sciences, Salem, Mass.) _American Naturalist_, 1867–1924; Vol. 9, pp. +577–596. + ++Hutchinson, H. N.+—1911. _Extinct Monsters and Creatures of Other +Days._ (D. Appleton and Co., New York). Third Edition, pp. 1–50, +124–186, 199–210. + ++Jepson, W. L.+—1910. _Silva of California._ (University Press, +Berkeley). pp. 127–128. + ++King, Clarence+—1902. _Mountaineering in the Sierra Nevada._ (Chas. +Scribners and Sons, New York). pp. 1–6. + ++Lawson, Andrew C.+—1921. “The Sierra Nevada.” (University Press, +Berkeley). _University of California Chronicle_, 1896–1924; Vol. 23, +pp. 130–149. + ++Matthes, François F.+—1912. _Sketch of Yosemite National Park and an +Account of the Origin of the Yosemite and Hetch Hetchy Valleys._ U. S. +Dept, of the Interior, pp. 6–8. + ++Wells, H. G.+—1921. _The Outline of History._ (Macmillan Co., New +York). Third Edition; 1 Vol., pp. 5–12, 19–36. + + + THE GLORY OF THE MOUNTAINS OF CALIFORNIA + ++Clark, F. L.+—1901. “The Big Basin.” (Sierra Club, San Francisco). +_Bulletin_, 1893–1924; Vol. 3, pp. 218–223. + ++Hall, Ansel F.+—1921. _Guide to Giant Forest._ (Ansel F. Hall, +Yosemite). 127 pp. + ++Hastings, Cristel+—1923. “Muir Woods, A National Monument.” +(Pacific-Atlantic Pub. Co., San Francisco). _Scenic America_; Vol. 2, +No. 2, pp. 17–23. + ++Hill, C. L.+—1916. _Forests of Yosemite, Sequoia and General Grant +National Parks._ U. S. Dept. of the Interior, pp. 5–13. + ++Jepson, W. L.+—1910. _Silva of California._ (University Press, +Berkeley). pp. 9, 128–143. + ++Kellogg, A.+—1884. _Redwood and Lumbering in California Forests._ +(Edgar Cherry & Co., San Francisco). pp. 76–102. + ++Muir, John+—1901. _Our National Parks._ (Houghton-Mifflin Co., +Boston). pp. 268–330. 1920. “Save the Redwoods.” (Sierra Club, San +Francisco). _Bulletin_, 1893–1923; Vol. II, pp. 1–4. + ++Osborn, Henry Fairfield+—1919. “Sequoia—the Auld Lang Syne of Trees.” +(American Museum of Natural History, New York). _Natural History_, +1900–1924; Vol. 19, pp. 598–613. + ++Price, William W.+—1892. “Discovery of a New Grove of Sequoia +Gigantea.” (T. S. Brandegee, San Francisco). _Zoe_, 1890–1900; Vol. 3, +pp. 132–133. 1893. “Description of a New Grove of Sequoia Gigantea.” +(Sierra Club, San Francisco). _Bulletin_, 1893–1924; Vol. 1, pp. 17–22. + ++Sommers, Fred M.+—1898. “Forests of the California Coast Range.” +(Harper & Bro., New York). _Harpers Magazine_, 1850–1924; Vol. 79, pp. +653–660. + ++Sudworth, George B.+—1908. _Forest Trees of the Pacific Slope._ U. S. +Dept. Forest Service, pp. 138–148. + ++Walker, Frank L.+—1890. “Sequoia Forests of the Sierra Nevada: Their +Location and Area.” (T. S. Brandegee, San Francisco). _Zoe_, 1890–1900; +Vol. 1, pp. 198–204. + + + GALEN CLARK + ++Bunnell, Lafayette H.+—1911. _Discovery of Yosemite and the Indian +War of 1851 Which Led to that Event._ (Gerlicher, Los Angeles). Fourth +Edition, pp. 339–348. + ++Clark, Galen+—1904. _Indians of Yosemite Valley._ (H. S. Crocker Co., +San Francisco). “Introductory Sketch of the Author.” pp. IX-XVIII. + ++Foley, J. D.+—1903. _Yosemite Souvenir and Guide._ (J. D. Foley, +Yosemite). pp. 102–103. + ++Hutchings, J. M.+—1860. _Scenes of Wonder and Curiosity in +California._ (Hutchings and Rosenfield, San Francisco). pp. 140–142. + ++Kuykendall, Ralph S.+—1921. “History of the Yosemite Region.” (G. P. +Putnam’s Sons, New York). _Handbook of Yosemite National Park._ Ed. by +Ansel F. Hall, pp. 19–24, 28–29. + ++Lester, John Erastus+—1873. _The Yosemite: Its History._ (Providence +Press, Providence). pp. 17–18. + ++Muir, John+—1910. “Galen Clark.” (Sierra Club, San Francisco). +_Bulletin_, 1893–1924; Vol. 7, pp. 215–220. 1912. _The Yosemite._ +(Century Co., New York). pp. 240–248. + ++Whitney, J. D.+—1870. _Yosemite Guide-Book._ (University Press: Welch, +Bigelow & Co., Cambridge). pp. 1–23. + +——. “California Commissioners to Manage Yosemite Valley and the +Mariposa Grove of Big Trees.” (Sacramento). Biennial _Reports_ for +1870, 1873, 1875, 1877, 1886, 1888, 1890, 1892, 1894, 1896, 1898, 1902, +1904. + + + WONDER TREES + ++Bancroft, A. L.+—1871. _Bancroft’s Tourist Guide of Yosemite._ (A. L. +Bancroft & Co., San Francisco). pp. 57–71. + ++Dudley, William R.+—1913. “Vitality of the Sequoia Gigantea.” +(Stanford University Pub., Palo Alto). _Dudley Memorial Volume_, pp. +40–41. 1900. “Big Trees of California.” (American Forestry Association, +Washington, D. C.) _Forester_, 1899–1924; Vol. 6, pp. 206–210. 1900. +“Lumbering in Sequoia National Park.” _Forester_, Vol. 6, pp. 293–295. + ++Hall, William L.+—1911. “Uses of Commercial Woods of the United +States.” U. S. Forest Service, 1887–1913. _Bulletin_ 95, pp. 57–62. + ++Hutchings, J. M.+—1860. _Scenes of Wonder and Curiosity in +California._ (Hutchings & Rosenfield, San Francisco), pp. 9–12, 40–50, +140–148. 1886. _In the Heart of the Sierras._ (Pacific Rural Press, +Oakland), pp. 214–232, 256–263. + ++Jepson, W. L.+—1921. “The Giant Sequoia.” (G. P. Putnam’s Sons, New +York). _Handbook of Yosemite National Park._ Ed. by Ansel F. Hall, pp. +237–246. 1910. _Silva of California._ (University Press, Berkeley), pp. +145–146. + ++Kellogg, A.+—1882. “Forest Trees of California.” (California State +Mining Bureau, Sacramento). Reports, 1880–1921. Vol. 2, Appendix. 1884. +“Essay on Redwood.” (Edgar Cherry Co., San Francisco). _Redwood and +Lumbering in California Forests_, pp. 102–107. + ++King, Clarence+—1902. _Mountaineering in the Sierra Nevada._ (Chas. +Scribners & Sons, New York), pp. 49–53. + ++Kneeland, Samuel+—1871. _Wonders of Yosemite Valley and of +California._ (Alexander Moore, Boston), pp. 47–51. + ++Osborn, Henry Fairfield+—1912. “Preservation of the World’s Animal +Life.” (American Museum of Natural History, New York). _Natural +History_, 1900–1924. Vol. 12, pp. 123–124. + ++Pinchot, Gifford+—1899. “A Primer of Forestry.” U. S. Forest Service, +1887–1913. _Bulletin 24_, pt. 1, pp. 44–65. + ++Sudworth, George B.+—1912. “Present Conditions of the California +Big Trees.” (American Museum of Natural History, New York). _Natural +History_, 1900–1924; Vol. 12, pp. 227–236. + +—— 1917. “Our Big Trees Saved.” (National Geographical Society, +Washington, D. C.) _National Geographic Magazine_, 1892–1924; Vol. 31, +pp. 1–11. + +—— 1923. _Rules and Regulations of Yosemite National Park._ U. S. Dept. +of the Interior, p. 13. + +OLDEST LIVING THING + ++Dudley, William R.+—1913. “Vitality of the Sequoia Gigantea.” +(Stanford University Pub., Palo Alto). _Dudley Memorial Volume_, pp. +33–42. + ++Eisen, Gustav+—1893. “Native Habits of the Sequoia Gigantea.” (T. S. +Brandegee, San Francisco). _Zoe_, 1890–1900. Vol. 4, pp. 141–144. + ++Gray, Asa+—1844. “The Longevity of Trees.” (Otis Brooders Co., +Boston). The _North American Review_, 1815–1924; Vol. 59, pp. 189–238. + ++Lemmon, John G.+—1890. “Cone-Bearers of California.” (California State +Board of Forestry, Sacramento). Biennial _Report_, 1886–1921; Vol. 3, +pp. 165–166. + ++Magee, Thomas+—1895. _Immortality of the Big Trees._ (William Doxey, +San Francisco). pp. 61–77. + + + THE ETERNAL TREE + ++Breasted, James H.+—1916. _Ancient Times._ (Ginn & Co., Boston). pp. +157–158. + ++Chase, J. Smeaton+—1911. _Yosemite Trails._ (Houghton-Mifflin Co., +Boston). pp. 126–143. + ++Gray, Asa+—1854. “On the Age of a Large Tree Recently Felled in +California.” (G. P. Putnam’s Sons, New York). _American Journal of +Science_, Second Series, 1846–1870. Vol. 17, pp. 440–443. Re-printed +1857. (American Academy of Arts and Sciences, Boston). _Proceedings_, +1864–1923; Vol. 3, pp. 94–96. + ++Hill, C. L.+—1916. _Forests of Yosemite, Sequoia, and General Grant +National Parks._ U. S. Dept. of the Interior, p. 15. + ++Huntington, Ellsworth+—1912. “Secret of the Big Trees.” (Harper & +Bro., New York). _Harper’s Magazine_, 1850–1924; Vol. 125, pp. 92–302. +Re-printed 1913. U. S. Dept. of the Interior. 24 pp. + ++Jepson, W. L.+—1910. _Silva of California._ (University Press, +Berkeley). pp. 58, 146. 1921. “The Giant Sequoia.” (G. P. Putnam’s +Sons, New York). _Handbook of Yosemite National Park._ Ed. by Ansel F. +Hall, pp. 240–241. + ++Le Conte, Joseph+—1875. _Journal of Ramblings Through the Sierra +Nevada._ (Francis Valentine & Co., San Francisco). pp. 24–26. +Re-printed 1900. (The Sierra Club, San Francisco). _Bulletin_, +1893–1924; Vol. 3, pp. 26–27. + + + A BLOSSOM OF DECADENCE + ++Fitch, H. C.+—1900. “The Yosemite Triangle.” U. S. Geological Survey +(Annual _Report_, 1880–1913). Vol. 21, pp. 571–574. + ++Gray, Asa+—1872. “The Sequoia and its History.” (Peabody Academy of +Sciences, Salem, Mass.) _American Naturalist_, 1867–1924; Vol. 9, pp. +577–581. + ++Jepson, W. L.+—1910. _Silva of California._ (University Press, +Berkeley). p. 144. + ++Muir, John+—1877. “On the Post Glacial History of Sequoia Gigantea.” +(American Association for the Advancement of Science, Salem, Mass.) +_Proceedings_, 1848–1915; Vol. 25, pp. 242–252. 1901. _Our National +Parks._ (Houghton-Mifflin Co., Boston). pp. 274–275, 284. + ++Sudworth, George B.+—1912. “Present Conditions of the California +Big Trees.” (American Museum of Natural History, New York). _Natural +History_, 1900–1924; Vol. 12, pp. 227–236. + + + A NAME FOR THE AGES + ++Bloomer, H. G.+—1868. “On the Scientific Name of the Big Trees.” +(California Academy of Sciences, San Francisco). _Proceedings_, +1854–1896; Vol. 3, p. 399. + ++Decaisne, J.+—1854. “Sequoia Gigantea.” (Société Botanique de France, +Paris). _Bulletin_, 1854–1921. Vol. 1, pp. 70–71. + ++Endlicher, Stephen+—1847. _Synopsis Coniferarum._ (Sangalli, Scheitlin +and Zollikofer). pp. 198–199. + ++Engleman, George+—1880. “Botany of California.” (John Wilson & Son, +Cambridge). California Geological Survey _Report_. Vol. 2, p. 117. + ++Gray, Asa+—1854. “Mammoth Trees of California.” (G. P. Putnam’s Sons, +New York). _American Journal of Science_, Second Series, 1846–1870. +Vol. 18, pp. 286–287. + ++Gordon, George+—1880. _Pinetum._ (N. G. Bolon, London). pp. 414–416. + ++Kellogg+ and +Behr+—1855. “Taxodium Giganteum.” (California Academy of +Science, San Francisco). _Proceedings_, First Series, 1854–1874. Vol. +1, p. 51. + ++Jepson, W. L.+—1910. _Silva of California._ (University Press, +Berkeley). pp. 138–139, 128. + ++Lindley, John+—1853. “New Plants.” (Bradbury & Evans, London). +_Gardner’s Chronicle_, 1841–1924. Vol. 13, pp. 823, 819–820. + ++Lemmon, John G.+—1890. “Cone-Bearers of California.” (California State +Board of Forestry, Sacramento). Biennial _Report_, 1886–1921. Vol. 3, +pp. 158–159, 161–163. + ++Sudworth, George B.+—1898. “Check List of the Forest Trees of the +United States.” U. S. Forest Service, 1887–1913. _Bulletin_ 17, pp. +28–29. 1897. “A Nomenclature of Arborescent Flora of the United +States.” U. S. Forest Service, 1887–1913. _Bulletin 14_, pp. 61–62. + ++Torrey, John+—1856. “Description of the General Botany of California.” +U. S. War Dept. _Pacific Railroad Report_, 1855–1861. Vol. 4, pt. 5, p. +140. + ++Whitney, J. D.+—1870. _Yosemite Guide Book._ (University Press: Welch, +Bigelow & Co., Cambridge). pp. 139–141. + ++Winslow, C. F.+—1854. “Letters from the Mountains.” (Warren & Co., San +Francisco). _California Farmer_, 1854–1880. Vol. 2, No. 8, p. 58. + + + SEQUOYAH + ++Gallatin, Albert+—1836. “A Synopsis of the Indian Tribes of North +America.” (University Press, Cambridge). American Antiquarian Society. +_Translations and Collections_, 1820–1911. Vol. 2, pp. 92–93 and +Appendix 301. + ++Kroeber, A. L.+—1923. _Anthropology._ (Harcourt, Brace & Co., New +York). pp. 223–225, 263–292. + ++Magee, Thomas+—1895. _The Alphabet and Language._ (William Doxey, San +Francisco). pp. 1–57. + ++McKinney, T. L.+ and +Hall, James+—1838. _History of the Indian Tribes +of North America._ (Frederick W. Greenbough, Philadelphia). Vol. 1, pp. +63–70. + ++Mooney, James+—1900. “Myths of the Cherokee.” U. S. Bureau of American +Ethnology, 1899–1924. Nineteenth Annual _Report_. Vol. 1, pp. 14, +135–139, 147–148, 219–220, 351, 353–355, 485, 501. + ++Phillips, William A.+—1870. “Se-quo-yah.” (Harper & Brothers, New +York). _Harper’s Magazine_, 1850–1924. Vol. 41, pp. 542–548. + ++Pilling, James C.+—1888. “Bibliography of Iroquoian Languages.” U. S. +Bureau of American Ethnology, 1887–1924. _Bulletin 6_, pp. 41–42, 72–73. + ++White, George B.+—1855. _Historical Collections of Georgia._ (Pudney & +Russell, New York). pp. 387–389. + ++Wells, H. G.+—1921. _The Outline of History._ (Macmillan Co., New +York). Third Edition. Vol. 1, pp. 168–176, 254, 558–560. + + + FOOTNOTES: + +[1] The Grant of 1864 was ceded back to the Nation in 1906 and became + incorporated in Yosemite National Park, which was created sixteen + years earlier. + +[2] This measurement was made in June of 1912 (as were the other + measurements given on these pages) by David A. Sherfey, resident + engineer of the Park at this time. + +[3] The wood of the Big Tree must not be confused with that of the + Redwood, for the latter has a very high economic value as a + commercial wood, and is noted for its many excellent qualities. + +[4] Scientifically speaking it is not proper to attribute a will to a + form of plant life. Its use here is in a non-scientific sense. + +[5] Computations made at the ground, thirty-one feet, give over + three-quarters of a million board feet; while those made eleven + feet above, where the diameter is but twenty feet, give only a + quarter of a million feet of lumber. The figure given above is, + therefore, a fair one. Random statements that this tree contains + a million board feet of lumber rest on no substantial basis. + +[6] The interesting question raised by Sudworth in 1898 whether the + specific name should be _Gigantea_ or _Washingtonia_ is discussed + in Bulletin Number 17, U. S. Forest Service, Page 28. + +[7] A mythical Phoenician who brought letters to the Greeks and in + whose honor the people of Thebes erected a magnificent edifice + known as the Cadmeum. + +[8] The author desires to offer grateful acknowledgement for the + extensive and liberal use he has made of this bibliography in the + preparation of the manuscript. He is further indebted to Clarence + King’s _Mountaineering in the Sierra Nevada_; Mark Twain’s + _Innocents Abroad_, Vol. II; and to the writings of Bret Harte, + for many suggestions and numerous happy phrases. + + + Transcriber’s Notes: + + • Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). + • Text enclosed by pluses is in small caps (+small caps+). + • Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected. + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76616 *** |