Last week’s Back Then column described Henry E. Colton’s Mountain Scenery: The Scenery of the Mountains of Western North Carolina and Northwestern South Carolina (Raleigh: W.L. Pomeroy, and Philadelphia: Hayes & Zell, 1859). Colton (1836-1892) was a naturalist, geologist, and author who was born in Fayetteville.

Mountain Scenery is an exceedingly rare book; fortunately, however, it is available in an “electronic edition” via the Internet: http://docsouth.unc.edu/nc/col ton/colton.html.

The volume was handsomely illustrated with four full-page lithographs by “Herline & Hensel Lithographers,” a prestigious 19th century Philadelphia firm operated by Edward Herline and Daniel Hensel.

It is to my knowledge the first book containing significant amounts of descriptive and nature writing devoted almost exclusively to the mountainous districts of Western North Carolina. Previous books of this sort — like William Bartram’s Travels (1791), George Featherstonhaugh’s A Canoe Voyage up the Minnay Sotor (1847), and Charles Lanman’s Letters from the Allegheny Mountains (1849), described other states as well. Colton no doubt added “Northwestern South Carolina” to the title because he wanted to sell copies in that state, if he could, but very little of his text describes anything in South Carolina.

His hair-raising and probably factual description of the exploration of “a cave” (i.e., Linville Caverns) was featured in last week’s installment. This week, let’s take a look at some of the natural history descriptions in Mountain Scenery. Much of the information is accurate and illuminating, but some of it is downright curious, and the part about the pet rattlesnakes that the Cherokees kept in their homes as “watch-dogs” is seemingly fantastical. (If any reader has ever before encountered an oral or written account of this sort, I would very much appreciate hearing about it.)

At one point Colton quotes an “anonymous” writer who had published a description of the mountainous terrain in the region (it’s not unlikely that he was actually quoting himself as he did that, for whatever reason, in other places): “A writer, in the N. C. Presbyterian says of the route to Franklin: — ‘About 10 o’clock I commenced the ascent of the Nantihala Mountain — perhaps one of the greatest curiosities in the way of roads in the world. Its twistings and turnings are really labyrinthical. It is said, with truth, that a gentleman from the low country, in ascending it, came to one of the chief turns, and, instead of turning up, turned down the mountain, and pursued his way several miles before he discovered his mistake. Any of my readers may form an idea of it if they have ever seen a long black snake run up a steep rock. In one place the road makes a perfect M; and you may travel two or three miles and then roll a stone to where you started from.’”

In Chapter XV of Mountain Scenery, as his way of “bringing this little book to a close,” Colton provides an account of the “Productions of the West,” by which he means “the productions of the soil in the West, and the wild animals native there.” Therein, he quotes from a perceptive “Report to the (N.C.) State Agricultural Society” filed by Thomas L. Clingman, the politician and explorer for whom Clingmans Dome in the Smokies was later named by geologist Arnold Guyot: “At its extreme borders, there rises up a mountainous region, with bolder scenery, and a more bracing climate. Few of our own citizens realize the extent of this district, or are aware of the fact, that it is three hundred miles in length, and has probably more than forty peaks, that surpass in altitude Mount Washington, long regarded as the most elevated point in the Atlantic States. Though this region does not present the glacier fields and eternal snows of the Alps, yet their want is amply atoned for by a vegetation rich as the tropics themselves can boast of. Rocky masses, of immense height and magnitude, and long ridges and frightful precipices are to be found; but the prevailing character of this section is one of such fertility, that the forest trees attain their most magnificent proportions on the sides, and even about the tops of the highest mountains. There, too, are to be seen, those strange treeless tracts, which the aboriginal inhabitants supposed to be the foot-prints of the ‘Evil One,’ as he stepped from mountain to mountain. Their smooth, undulating surfaces, covered with waving grasses, suggest far different associations to the present beholders.”

Colton then quotes from another “anonymous” article (one that he quite possibly wrote himself) published in the “North Carolina Presbyterian”: “The balsam is a growth peculiar to the Black Mountains, the Roan, and several other high mountains. The color of its leaf is of a dark green, shaped like the pine, but shorter, and they cluster around the bough upon all sides. At a distance, it has a black appearance, which gives the name to the mountains. There are two varieties, which might be classed as male and female. One is not of so intense a deep green, and produces no gum; the other is much the prettiest tree, and has the blisters, containing balsam, scattered over its trunk. A balsam blister is somewhat like a boil. The inhabitants gather the balsam, by pricking the blister with an instrument similar to the charger for a gun. The blister is a little sac, inserted between the outer and inner bark, and, by careful work, can be taken whole from its resting-place, and, on being held to light, is of a yellowish, transparent color. The gum is good for sores, cuts, etc., and resembles virgin turpentine. The bark peels easily from the green tree, but, when dry, crisps, and holds tightly to the trunk. I have been told of instances of hunters sleeping in the bark as stripped from a tree.

“There is one feature of the mountains, however, which I have omitted — the wild animals. First of these, and being the most numerous, stands the black bear. He grows somewhat larger than in the swamps of the East, and has a more glossy and fur-like coat of hair. I have heard of one of his habits, which I have never seen mentioned in any natural history. In the spring, when the he-bear begins to travel, as he starts upon a path, he will rear upon his hind legs, and, with one of his fore-paws, reach as high as possible, and make a scratch in the bark of the tree. Another bear starts upon the same path, and, seeing the marked tree, he rears up, and, if he overreaches the other, travels forward with boldness and rapidity; but, if be cannot reach it, turns off in another direction. The mark shows the size and strength of the bear. I have seen balsams perfectly torn to pieces, — marks extending up to six feet. Col. Crockett calls it making ‘his mark’ ... Elk once existed in the mountains, but they are all gone. The wolves and wild-cats are nearly extinct, though their noise may sometimes yet be heard in the wild spots ... the ground squirrel, called, by the inhabitants, ‘mountain boomer,’ the woods perfectly alive with them, and a chattering more confused than Bedlam itself.

“And now, from that delight of epicures, I will pass to a subject, which, to some of your readers, may be disagreeable, the snakes. The commonly received opinion is, that the mountains are filled with rattlesnakes, and, at every step, one is seen. But such is far from fact. In all my rambles, not a few, I have yet to see a rattlesnake, or any other considered poisonous. The rattlesnake has great injustice done him. He is ever more ready to get out of the way than to fight, and never attacks unless he thinks he has been assailed. He is more irascible at some seasons than others; but, so far as I could judge, the mountaineers generally do not mind them. I know of particular rocks where they can be seen and killed at any time, but it is only there; and, by avoiding those places, the traveller may go all over the mountains and not meet with one. The hog is a deadly enemy of the rattlesnake. I once asked a mountaineer why it was the snake could not hurt a hog? He replied, that he didn’t know, unless it was that the first time the devil was heard of, after he left the serpent, he went into the swine. The other poisonous snakes of the mountains are rare, the adders and copper-snake. The moccasin of the mountains is not considered poisonous; and a gentleman told me be had seen the Indians let them bite their feet, and no bad result ensued ...”

George Ellison is a writer who lives in Bryson City. He wrote the biographical introductions for the reissues of two Appalachian classics: Horace Kephart’s Our Southern Highlanders and James Mooney’s History, Myths, and Sacred Formulas of the Cherokees. Readers can contact him at P.O. Box 1262, Bryson City, N.C. 28713, or at ellisongeorge@cs.com