House of Eternity The Tomb of Nefertari 1st Edition

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House of Eternity The Tomb of Nefertari 1st Edition
John K. Mcdonald Digital Instant Download
Author(s): John K. McDonald
ISBN(s): 9780892364152, 0892364157
Edition: 1
File Details: PDF, 32.07 MB
Year: 1996
Language: english
-

-
-

OUSE OF ETERNITY

The Tomb of

Nefertari
John K. McDonald

The Getty Conservation Institute

and the J. Paul Getty Museum
Los Angeles
Cover/title page:
Detail a/Queen
Nefertari 0/'1 the north
wall of Chamber G.

All photographs are

by Guillermo Aldana

unless credited

otherwise.

The Getty Conservation Institute works internationally to further

the appreciation and preservation of the world's cultural heritage

for the enrichment and use of present and future generations.

This is the first volume in the Conservation and Cultural Heritage

series, which aims to provide in a popular format information

about selected culturally significant sites throughout the world.

© 1996 The J. Paul Getty Trust

All rights reserved
Printed in Singapore

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

McDonald. John K.
House of eternity: the tomb of Nefertari I John K. McDonald.
p. cm.
ISBN 0-89236-415-7
1. Nefertari. Queen. consort of Rameses II. King of Egypt-Tomb.
2. Mural painting and decoration. Egyptian. 3. Tombs-Egypt.
4. Valley of the Queens (Egypt) I. Title.
DT73· v34M35 1996
932-dc20 96-24123
C1P
Contents

Foreword

5 Introduction
Dynasties of Ancient Egypt

II Nefertari: Radiant Queen

A Letter from Nefertari
T he Queen's Titles and Epithets

19 The Valley of the Queens

Ernesto Schiaparelli

25 Conveyance to Eternal Life: The Royal Tombs of Egypt

Tomb Paints and Materials

33 The Tomb Builders' Village

37 After Nefertari's Burial

41 Resurrection and Recurrent Risks

47 The King of the Dead and His Divine Family

Divine Guidance

55 Among the Immortals:

A Walk through the "House of Eternity"
T he Texts in the Tomb

III Conclusion

116 Acknowledgments
 II HOUSE OF ETER ITY

an honored and
>
<
beloved queen,
still in the prime
of earthly existence, set off
upon a voyage to the netherworld, in quest
of eternal life.
In our own time, the art and culture
of ancient Egypt have come to reflect the
aesthetic imagination and spiritual aspira­
tions of peoples everywhere. In Egypt,
enduring yet endangered monuments
embody some of the finest craftsmanship
that has ever graced the planet.
The tomb of efertari, its brilliant
images vividly depicting her voyage to the
hereafter, ranks among the most precious
and most fragile of Egyptian treasures,
indeed of humanity. Moreover, it repre­
sents perhaps the most exquisite gift to be
passed down through more than a hundred
generations, a centerpiece of cultural heri­
tage and a priceless patrimony of our time.
Yet ever since its modern discovery in
1904, the art in Nefertari's tomb-among

the most beautiful examples of pharaonic

wall paintings ever found - has been
known to be in fragile and precarious con­
dition. Consequently, for most of this time,
the tomb has been closed to the public.
If the Nefertari paintings had contin­
ued to deteriorate, the world would have
suffered an incalculable cultural loss.
Instead, between 1986 and 1992, the

The last four columns Previolls page:

of text behind Nefertari Sections of the north

on the north waLL of and east walls of

Chamber G. The Chamber G. On the

inscription, which reads left, Nefertari pays

from right to left, is homage to Thoth, the

from Chapter 94 of the god of writing. On the

Book of the Dead. right, she makes offer­

ings of incense, food,

and cowhide.
..
FOREWORD
3

Egyptian Antiquities Organization and the and a material plane. To decipher this
Getty Conservation Institute undertook an record is to know our past. And so, our­
intensive collaborative effort to conserve the selves. To preserve it is to pass that knowl­
wall paintings in the queen's "house of eter­ edge on to future generations. In this sense,
nity." This joint project proved exemplary in the tomb of Nefertari belongs to - and
preserving for posterity one of the greatest must be preserved by-all of us.
treasures ever yet created by the human We have already learned that the pub­
mind and hand. lic's interest in the tomb is remarkable. In
In 1986, I was privileged to see the 1992 the J. Paul Getty Museum and the
tomb for the fi rst time. Like so many before Getty Conservation Institute organized an
me, I was both awed by the beauty of the exhibition devoted to enhancing public
paintings and appalled by the damage they awareness of the conservation problems
had sustained. Ten years later, the ravages of and created a replica of one of the cham­
time, nature, and humankind have been bers. The exhibition, which subsequently
arrested. The surviving paintings have been traveled to Rome and Turin, proved to be a
rescued from destruction, with their his­ great success.
torical integrity and authenticity intact. At the Getty Conservation Institute,
Now, more than ever before, these our goal is to ensure that people every­
marvelous paintings have a chance to where come to recognize, appreciate, and
survive for future generations. But only a acknowledge that the tomb of Nefertari
chance. The tomb has been open to the and similarly rare and delicate works of art
public since November 1995. Consequently, comprise precarious treasures of humanity.
in spite of all the painstaking conservation Paradoxically, they need to be protected
work, the paintings remain vulnerable. above all from the risks of unrestrained
Today, they stand as vibrant testimony exposure to those who admire them most.
to the creative genius of ancient Egyptian In entering the tomb of Nefertari,
artists and as a celebration of art by an you are about to experience a unique and
international community of policymakers sublime example of human creativity, in its
and conservation professionals. Tomorrow, aesthetic, material, and spiritual aspects.
the paintings' survival will depend largely As we marvel at this priceless heirloom, let
on the vigilant protection they receive in us find equally creative ways to provide not
the years that lie ahead. only public access to the treasures housed
The mutual mandate of the renamed within the tomb, but also the means for
Egyptian Supreme Council of Antiquities their perpetual existence.
and the Getty Conservation Institute In this way, we may both respect the
will not be fulfilled until we succeed in gen­ original intent of the creators and inspire
erating broad awareness of the pressing future generations, as they too embark on
problems facing endangered cultural prop­ our collective journey to the beyond.
erties worldwide. Solving these problems is
not the exclusive privilege or responsibility
of cultural, scientific, and political elites. Miguel Angel Corzo
It is rightly a matter of general public con­ Director
cern. Cultural treasures provide a record of The Getty Conservation Institute
our human condition on both a spiritual
6 HOUSE OF ETERNITY

Tunneled into the northern

slope of the necropolis, Nefertari's
"house of eternity" is one of the finest
tombs ever created by ancient Egypt's
master craftsmen.
Emblazoned on its walls and corri­
dors, some 520 square meters of exquisite
wall paintings reveal a ritual process and
illustrate Nefertari's journey of transfor­
mation into a blessed soul in the hereafter.
It would prove a long and perilous passage;
but she could rely on these hieroglyphic
texts and illustrations to be her beacons to
the beyond.
The Valley of the Queens is not
renowned for the quality of its limestone.
Indeed, like much of the rock in the
Theban area, the limestone has been frac­
tured by earthquakes and is banded with
veins of flint. As a result, it is not well
suited to painting or carving. Several layers
of plaster had to be applied to the walls to
Stereo view of the build a suitable surface for the wall paint­
tomb entrance taken ings. Vignettes and texts were lightly carved
by Don MicheLe into the plaster when dry. The walls were
PizziolFrancesco then primed with a gypsum wash and
BaLLerini, members of painted in brilliant color.
the Italian Mission The carved plaster in Nefertari's
led by Ernesto tomb is an early but sublimely successful
SchiapareLLi in 1904. instance of what was then a novel tech­
Photo: Courtesy of the nique. The multitude of colors in her tomb
Museo Egizio. Turitl.
is exceptional, especially the lighter ones,
set off against the luxurious blacks and
blue-whites.

Previous page: Opposite:

The Valley of the DetaiL from the south

Queens, across the face of Pillar I in the

river NiLe from Luxor. sarcophagus chamber

before conservation.
Conservators at work The theme of the tomb is timeless­ respiration from contemporary visitors
during final treat­ ness: the decoration exclusively funerary. eager to view its marvels, have all served to
ment on the northeast No references are made to any specific his­ mobilize the salt, bringing it to the painted
corner of Chamber K. toric events or to anything that actually surfaces, where it crystallized to damage
happened to Nefertari in her lifetime. Both and in some cases irretrievably destroy the
aesthetically and spiritually, the transient art within the tomb.
concerns of this life are considered to be To combat these dangers, the inter­
incompatible with eternity. national team of conservators assembled in
Similarly incompatible is the salt­ 1986 by the Getty Conservation Institute

laden nature of the limestone from which (GCI) and the Egyptian Antiquities
the tomb was hewn, as well as the Nile Organization ( EAO) undertook conserva­
River mud used to plaster its walls. In the tion of the tomb. First, emergency stabi­
presence of moisture, salt, dormant in lization of detaching painted plaster; then
the rock and the plaster, migrated to the meticulous conservation to preserve the
surface of the walls. Over time, fluctuations tomb for present and future generations.
in humidity within the tomb, whether Nowhere in this process has "restora­
from the workmen who built it, subsequent tion" of the paintings been undertaken.
flooding, seepage through fissures in the Nor will it be. The GCI is philosophically
porous rock above, or perspiration and committed never to engage in restoration,
IN TRODUCTION

DYNASTIES OF ANCIENT EGYPT

believing that to restore an ancient work circa 3000 B.C.E. 139'-'353

Late Predynastic Period Amenhotep III
by adding to it is inevitably to assault its
2920 -2 575 1353-'335
authenticity. In the tomb of Nefertari, not Early Dynastic Period Amenhotep Ivl
(Dynasties 1-11) Akhenaten
a single drop of new paint was added to
2 575-2'34 1335-1333
the images. Similarly, all cleaning processes Old Kingdom Smenkhkare

and materials used in the conservation (Dynasties III-VIII) '333-1323

2'34-2040 Tutankhamun
were reversible. First Intermediate '323-'3'9

The paintings that remain are in Period Ay

(Dynasties IX-XI/1) '3'9-'307
every way authentic, entirely the work of
2040-,640 Horemheb
the original artists and artisans. They Middle Kingdom (DYllasty XIX)
(DYllasties xI/2-XIII) '307-'306
have been carefully and respectfully con­
,640 -'532 Rameses I
served, stabilized where in danger of Second Intermediate '306-1290
Period Sety I
detachment, and cleaned of dirt and salt to
(Dynasties XI V-XVII) 1290-1224
regain their original luster. Where the Rameses II

original paintings have been lost, patches New Kingdom (The Great)
• (Dynasty XVIII) '224-'2'4
of blank plaster (made from local, natural '550-'525 Merneptah
products) now cover the walls. Ahmose '214-'204
'525 -'SOl, Sety II
Systematic, complex, laborious,
Amenhotep I 1204-1198
devoted, and respectful- such conserva­ '504-'492 Siptah
Thutmoses I 1198-1196
tion work has much in common with the
'492-'479 Twosre
journey undertaken by Nefertari in her Thutmoses" 1196-1070
1479-'425 (DYllasty xx)
transition from this world to the next.
Thutmoses III '070-712
Within her "house of eternity," descending 1473-1458 Third Intermediate

stairways, asymmetries of design, and Hatshepsut Period

'427-'401 (DYIJasties XXI-XXIV)
the skewing of the tomb's axis are all Amenhotep II 7'2-332

thought to allude to the tortuous topogra­ '40'-139' Late Period

Thutmoses IV (Dynasties xXV-XXXI)
phy of the Egyptian netherworld. This
332-30 •.C.E.
is the daunting domain that Nefertari Macedonian­
Ptolemaic Period
must traverse successfully in her search for
30 •. C.E.-C.E. 395
everlasting life. Roman Period

• Dates givell Jor individuals

represellt regllal period.

Adapted Jroll1 John Bailles

at,d Jarom!r Malek,
Atlas of Ancient Egypt,
OxJord: 1980.

aile oj two statlles oj

Rameses II 011 the Jafade oj
the Temple oj Hathor at
Abll Simbel.
12 HOUSE OF ETERNITY

Why? Only because we have been blessed

with brilliant images from her tomb in
the Valley of the Queens.
If Nefertari's magnificent "house of
eternity" had not survived, perhaps
scholars of Egyptian history might still
recognize her name. But could anyone even
begin to imagine the elegant, dazzling
young woman, the radiant being, we see so
vividly portrayed throughout her tomb?
With such evocative images enduring, no
doubt remains that Nefertari was indeed
the beautiful queen of one of history's
most powerful and celebrated rulers,
Rameses the Great.
What can historians tell us about the
actual woman behind this compelling
portrait? Certainly, Nefertari played impor­
tant roles in state and religious affairs.
Her importance was amply confirmed by
her titles and the multiplicity of her images
on monuments throughout Egypt: at the
temples of Karnak and Luxor; in her tomb;
and at a sandstone temple built at Abu
Simbel, in far-distant Nubia, where her
impact was literally colossal.
It is impossible to judge how much
Nefertari's prestige was due to her personal
qualities. It is also prudent to recall that
she was by no means the first Egyptian
queen to wield such power. Two of her pre­
decessors-Ahmes-Nefertari and Nefertiti,
wife of Akhenaten-figured prominently
Detail of the colossus Previous page: in the history of the New Kingdom. And the
of Nefertari at the On the west wall of Eighteenth Dynasty King Hatshepsut was
Temple 0/ Luxor. Chamber G, south in fact a woman.
side, a band of relief

separates Nefertari Opposite: ing west-side compo­

from Nephthys and Nefertari on the east sition in that here

Isis who flank side of the upper the queel1's headdress

the ram-headed god descending corridor. is without the high

representing a union The vignette differs plumes.

of Re' and Osiris. from the correspond-

A LETTER FROM NEFERTARI

"Says Naptera [NefertariJ,

the great queen of Egypt
to Padukhepa, the great
queen of Hatti, my sister,
thus. With you, my sister,
may all be well, and with
your country may all be
well. Behold, I have noted
that you, my sister, have
written me enquiring
after my well being. And
you have written me
about the matter of peace
and brotherhood between
the great king of Egypt
and his brother, the great
king of Hatti. May the sun
god [of Egypt [ and the
storm god [of Haiti]
bring you joy and may the
sun god cause the peace
to be good.... I in friend­
ship and sisterly relation
with the great queen [of
Haiti] now and forever."

NeJertari's letter to
Padukhepn, the Hi//ite
queell, expresses her wishes
Jor lastillg peace. The
Hittites lYere the IlIdo­
Europeall illvaders oj the
Allatoliall highlallds. They
established all empire dllr­
illg the COllrse oj the secolld
mi/Jellllillm B.C.E. alld
cI,a/Jel/ged the supremacy oj
Egypt ill the Middle East
dllrillg the Eighteel1th alld
Nilleteellth Dynasties.

The relief on the

inner face of the First

Pylon at the Temple

of Luxor. Nefertari,

shaking a sacred rattle,

is preceded by her
husband, Rameses II.
Other documents randomly have
different content
“Why don’t you see” replied the wraith,
“What faith I’ve got in you—
Who’d parcel-post a glacier’s ice
In cans—what can’t you do?

“Some high explosive you could get

Like dynamite and blow
Me out from all my frigid plight—
It could be done, I know.”

“It could be done,” I said, “but then

The risk you run is heightened—
The dyna-MITE blow bones and all—
And then again it mightn’t!”

I looked to see—perhaps the pun

Had punched his ponderous thinker—
His countenance was passive quite,
He never winked a blinker.

But then his wraithy nut, I ween,

Was shadow-celled—not solid,
Hence this hiatus in his bean,
His manner grave and stolid.

“This dynamiting Dinos is

Quite risky in the main—
Although you haven’t much to lose
And quite a bit to gain!”

“I’ll chance it—come!” the Dino said,

“There’s little time to lose—
We ghosts you know, can only romp
While other people snooze.”

His trunk galumpled toward my bunk,

It snoodled till it found me,
Then with a firm but gentle squeeze
Then with a firm but gentle squeeze
It wrapped itself around me;

It lifted me into the air

Out toward the window-sash—
The lamp upon the table there
Fell with a telltale crash,

Which roused my next-door neighbor up,

The man from Tennessee,
Who with his light came rushing in
To learn what it could be.

Of course no wraith can stand the light—

It must have made him sore
To have his trunk dissolve in night
While I sprawled on the floor.

As for the man from Tennessee

And what had just occurred—
With me in my pajamas there,
I told him not a word.

I told him nothing for I knew

He’d never understand—
I asked him just to get a rag
And wrap my bruiséd hand.
JUST CAT
W
e have a cat of common gray—
In fact a plain and everyday
Old Tab—to be exact I’d say
She’s common in most every way.

She’s common in her manners quite,

She’s never known the word “polite,”
When dining with her neighbors, might
To her cat mind is always right.

She’s common in her diet too—

Cheese, liver, milk, or cold beef-stew—
And when at last she finds she’s through,
She licks her chops as most cats do.

She’s common for the reason that

No chipmunk, gopher, mouse or rat
Is sure she won’t cave in his slat
To decorate our kitchen-mat.

She’s common in the way she’ll toy

With life—decoy and then annoy
And torture with cool, fiendish joy
The thing she would at last destroy.

She’s common in the motherly

Devotion with which she can see
Her kits lick up the blood—to be
Eventually as cruel as she.

She’s common in the attitude

Which she’s persistently pursued
Toward rearing up a meowing brood—
Twice every year the stunt’s renewed.

She’s common in the view she’d share

With ll th f lk h d l
With all those poor folks who declare
That the community should care
For all the young they choose to bear.

Indeed so common is she here,

That should we count each little dear
That’s littered every fiscal year,
(Her seventh winter’s drawing near),

Allowing six to every score,

(At times it’s less but mostly more),
The tally would not figure lower
Than somewhere say—near eighty-four.

But as four out of every six

Are ferried ’cross the River Styx
And swiftly rendered good for nix
Before they register their kicks,

And whereas those that still remain

In order to relieve the strain
And thus assuage a mother’s pain
Until her grief is on the wane,

Are likewise held beneath the spout,

Or soon or later parcelled out
To someone who beyond a doubt
Enjoys the feel of cats about,

It will be fitting to observe

That we have done our best to serve
This purring matron through each curve
Of her plain, boundless, common nerve.

We’ve done our best—as one may see,

To quell each base antipathy,
That she—our Tab might still be free
To rear her endless progeny
To rear her endless progeny.
 DANGER!

L
ook out! Don’t touch me, man, I’m sore!
I’m ulcerous—I’m more,
I boil, I fume, I sizzle, I’m
Cantankerous to the core.

A blister that is being shaved,

A wild cat up a tree.
A chestnut-bur with every spur
An exposed nerve—that’s me!

I am the heat that turns to flame

When in Fate’s glass is caught
The world’s choice store of toughest luck
And focused on one spot.

What’s wrong? Why, eighty dozen things,

Each one of which would stall
An ORDINARY man—it’s just
My rotten day, that’s all!

What’s that? Cheer up? Say that again!

No, don’t—just—go away!
I’ve never killed a man before—
I mustn’t start today.
A PAGEANT OF THE TREES

W
hen the Man of Galilee spoke of “The Tree
of Life” the metaphor was used advisedly.
Is not a tree the very essence of life unfolding
hour by hour and day by day—the harbinger of
beauty on mountain and plain, the salvation of
the waste-places, the antithesis of all
monotony? The tender green of young trees in
the sunlight, the golden laughter of autumn
boughs, the loneliness of leafless trees against
the sunset sky, the mystery of solemn contours
drenched in moonlight, the cold, white
loveliness of trees in winter—what would earth
be without these things? And could the mind of
man conceive a treeless heaven?
When the Great Love has stirred your soul
and you are one with the Tribe of Trees through
the blood-brotherhood of common
understanding, you will see a deal of this
humanity of ours mirrored in the multifarious
tree-life of our western hills. Gird yourself with
an open mind, take Fancy with you and go forth
—learn of the old men, chat with the gossips,
question the seers, ponder the heraldry of their
ancient totems—do these things and you will
return with Wisdom, and Joy will dance in the
heart of you.
THE FOREST
W
e are the hosts innumerable who ride
Upon the hills—who stride
The plains and surge upon the mountainside.
We are the onward-sweeping tide
Of ceaseless growth, the countless entities
Of all the rolling, emerald seas
Of timber-land—we are the Trees!

The dam who suckles us is Earth,

She gives us birth
And when
Our night is come, she claims her own again.
We live to grow and to this end
Recurring seasons lend
Their favor; Winter comes, our labors cease,
It is a time of cold, white peace;
When Spring walks jubilantly through the land
We know the hour of increase is at hand;
Then stirs our forest-heart and sap runs free—
The sap which is the life-blood of a tree.
Our skin is bark, and fiber is our flesh
And through the pores of every fresh
Green leaf, we breathe. Our good?
Is to make wood;
To hold in check the floods that devastate;
To mediate
Between the Heavens and the Earth,
That there shall be no dearth
Of water nor excess—yet still enough
Stored in our forest floor of matted duff
To save the land from barrenness,
And when we tender less
Than this, or stop
From making wood, we’re dead! In time, we drop,
And when we drop, we rot.
S hi l t li f ht
Such is our lot; our lives are fraught
With much vicissitude, not always free
To shape our destiny—
A tale where each slow-born event
Is moulded by environment.

And there is stuff

Enough of drama if the rough,
Rude story were all told—a stage
Where age-
Old patriarchs make way
For jostling, upstart youth and gay,
Bepainted courtezans and those who weep
With trailing tears; and anchorites who keep
Their solitary trysts; and those who sing;
And gossips bent in whispering;
Defiant wretches of the sod,
Hurling invective at their God;
Or those whose arms in priestly-wise
Turn supplicating to the skies,
Or stoop to bless
With benediction and caress;
And gnarled hags
And misshaped monsters of the crags;
And moon-white hosts
Of beckoning ghosts.

With wild, spendthrift magnificence

The stage is set—immense
And primal. Flash
And flood and thunder-crash,
Devouring flame and scattered dead
And silences that hang like lead.
Stuff
Enough for drama if the rough
Rude story were all told;
A tale as old
A tale as old
As dusk, as new as dawn—
The play is always going on—
The curtain’s never drawn.
 THE SEQUOIA GIGANTIA

I
the oldest and the biggest thing
am
That lives—a link forever lengthening,
That binds the vanished THEN fast to
The fleeting NOW. I grew—
Each ’circling ring bespoke a year,
Recording there
My prospering—or marked perchance
Some hindering of circumstance.
This towering shaft in armored front
Of thickest bark, has borne the brunt
Of frost and flame; it has endured
Through countless plagues and is inured
To all the ravagings
Of crawling things.

My grizzled head has glimpsed the wax

And wane of comets and the tracks
Of trailing meteors; and I
Have watched across the sky
Of time,
Young nations rise and reach their prime
And then grow dim again.
I was a sturdy sapling when
Gray Egypt reared the slave-hewn stones
That hearsed the bones
Of Rameses; and full two thousand folds and more
Had sealed my red heart’s inmost core
When He drew breath—
The Christ of little Nazareth.
I am the oldest and the biggest thing
That lives—a link forever lengthening,
That binds the vanished THEN fast to
The fleeting NOW.
I’ve kept my long-established place
And I am solid—crown to base;
My heart is sound, my bole is straight,
My limbs hang with an even weight,
I do not sag and there is no
Near gully where the freshets flow
To undermine my roots. God planned
It so, and by his grace I’ll stand
Against the centuries still.
So will I fill
My destiny—
To be
A messenger—to carry on, to give
Tomorrow’s children who shall live
When this fair present’s passed away,
The legend of my yesterday.
A SPRUCE’S ROOT
I
the grisly claws
am
Of this crestfallen spruce that was.
Almighty tall he grew and straight—
I bore his Lordship’s weight
For some odd centuries, and great
It was to see a tree so fine
In bulk and splendid in design.
His portly tons increased with age
While I sprawled in the cellarage,
And when winds tossed his noble head
I knew how shallow was my bed,
For in my youth I led
A rambling life, quite free from toil;
I sucked the soggy surface-soil,
I did not deem it worth
The while to pierce the deeper earth
To make my base a solid thing
Against the days of reckoning.
My tangled talons forked far out,
They squirmed and twisted round about,
They radiated from my crown—
They went along but never down.

Once now and then some minstrel breezes strolled

Our way—they bowled
Old-timers down. The ground
Was strewn with windfalls all around;
A rendezvous
For every breeze that blew
For miles—a test
I’ll warrant for the best
Of trees and doom for all the rest.
Great strapping fellows—hale and well
To look upon, but how they fell!
A crack! A bump!
A li t d j d t !
A splintered, jagged stump!
And how the pride of some did smart
To have a rotted heart
Torn open thus—relentlessly exposed!
Meanwhile his Lordship posed—
The peer without a flaw!
And he was held in very proper awe—
He saw his rivals snapped like straws,
And still he stood—while I dug in my claws.

I knew that it would come—some gust would blow

To spill him low.
His great bole swayed
And trembled like a barley-blade,
His lifelong balance-line he tottered past—
The die was cast,
For there was no rebound.
The ground
Ripped as he rocked
And with the crash my roots unlocked.

In such a wise—upturned by fate,

I was exalted from my low estate.
I am a monstrous thing to see,
A flat, misshapen prodigy
Of towsie tentacles and mud and stones
And twisted bones—
A ghastly secret raised to smear
This forest nobleman’s career.
THE DOUGLAS FIR
B
crowding upward toward the light
y
Day and night,
We lift (the lifting never stops)
Our panoply of towering tops.
We are all height and gloom;
We have no room,
No place
For our own brothers in the race
For light; if they can not keep pace
With us, nor reach as high,
They die!

Our lancet-stems are clean like stalks of grain,

Thus we maintain
Our creed, which is to rise
In unspoiled beauty toward the skies—
We make no compromise!
Across the fire-swept areas our seeds
Are blown, to drop among the weeds.
A little while they lie
And germinate, and by and by
WE spring—a sapling here—and there—
And everywhere,
Elbowing in
Through chinkapin
And rhododendrons and the crush
Of maple brush;
Before we know,
We’ve grown into a forest, while below
We glimpse the copse
And see the tops
Of things
That have become our underlings.

There are no thicker stands

Than ours in all the Northwest lands
Than ours, in all the Northwest lands—
By grace of rivalry we grow so straight,
And thrive and dominate.

Our lancet-stems are clean like stalks of grain,

Thus we maintain
Our creed, which is to rise
In unspoiled beauty toward the skies.
 THE TAMARACK

A
mong the evergreens I grow
All summer long—they do not know—
I look so much as if I were
An honest upright kind of fir.
I even think they envy me,
My fronds show such a filigree
Of needlework, all interlaced—
They do not know I’m double-faced.
I am as straight as any lance
And so I win their confidence;
I know their inmost secret things,
I hear their softest murmurings,
I listen and maintain my mien—
They think I am an evergreen!

But when the summer goes,

October knows! October knows!
For then my needles turn to gold,
I stand a traitor to the fold,
I am the turncoat of the pack—
The yellow-flaming tamarack!
I hoist my shining staff,
I give them all the laugh,
Until my golden needles drop
And sober up. I’ve had my fling—
Next spring
When I am seen
Again, I’ll be an evergreen!
THE MONTEREY CYPRESS
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