Henry Wadsworth Longfellow knew of tragedy and heartbreak. His second wife, Frances, died in a fire in which he was also injured. He wrote, “A millstone and the human heart are driven ever round. If they have nothing else to grind, they must themselves be ground.” 

Millstones, which still linger in the woods, fields, and streamsides, tell stories of industry, beauty, geology, and history. The Island was at one time home to many mills, needed to grind grain, nuts, fruits, and seeds, and create power for production of woolens, bricks, and other necessary objects. Though these industries are long gone, the skeletons of their existence remain. 

An early account of Martha’s Vineyard mills goes back to 1651 when Thomas Mayhew asked for a miller to be sent to the Island. Though our streams and rivers rarely roared and raged, their strength was enough to power at least six mills on the Tiasquin River, beginning in 1668. The Old Mill River also hosted a few, with a grist mill dating to 1760 that eventually became a satinet mill by 1808, and is now known as The MV Garden Club’s Mill House. West Tisbury was at one time called Takemmy, “the place where one goes to grind corn.” 

The circular rocks that were used in these mills to grind and pulverize were highly valued, and making and maintaining them was a skill and an art.  Millstones were formed from large sedimentary siliceous rocks that had to be worked with steel to shape them and create the necessary patterns on their surfaces for optimal grinding. These patterns, called harps, included furrows or grooves and lands (flat areas) that when placed face to face and turned in opposite directions created a scissor-like action to macerate powerfully and effectively. As material moved from the center to the edges of the stone, it decreased in size, grinding to smaller and finer pieces. 

France was known for producing the finest millstones, which cost three times the price of domestically made ones. These imported stones would also last three times as long. The French millstones were able to grind grains to flour that was white in color, which made the fanciest white bread, rather than the less-milled brown rustic variety known now as peasant breads. It also led to the phrase “Frenchman in the mill,” to identify those mills having the premium French stones. 

Along with their utility, millstones also held their own superstitions. Considering the weight and power of the stones, it was inevitable that there would be accidents at the mills.  If a millstone injured or killed someone, it was taken out of service since it was considered evil now, the carrier of bad luck. The offending millstone might be used as a gravestone for its victim or put elsewhere, such as the exit of the mill so that those stepping on it would carry its evil away. 
Though stones could last hundreds of years, broken ones were common and repurposed into bridge abutments, among other things. After mills went out of use, millstones became objects of art and homestead embellishments. Those with focus, and their nose to the grindstone, may still be able to sniff out these long-lasting relics.

Suzan Bellincampi is director of the Felix Neck Wildlife Sanctuary in Edgartown, and author of Martha’s Vineyard: A Field Guide to Island Nature and The Nature of Martha’s Vineyard.