"Gives not the hawthorn-bush a sweeter shadeTo shepherds looking on their silly sheep,Than doth a rich-embroidered canopyTo kings that fear their subjects' treachery?O, yes, it doth—a thousandfold it doth."(Third Henry VI.act ii. sc. 5.)
MAY BLOSSOM (Cratægus oxyacantha)
The rose has long disputed with the lily her claim to rank as Queen of Beauty, nor is the rivalry likely to be decided in favour of either so long as human tastes differ. Howbeit, if the two claimants ever appeal to the arbitrament of war, the rose will have the advantage of big battalions, for her great clan far outnumbers that of the lilies and many of them are formidably armed. There would, indeed, be some mighty blanks in our fields and gardens if the great natural order of Rosaceæ were banned; for not only should we lose the enormous and ever-increasing variety of the rose itself and its hybrids, but the spiræas, the cinquefoils, the cotoneasters, the so-called laurels (which are not laurels at all, but evergreen plums), wherewith we deck our pleasure-grounds, would disappear also, and withthem the plums, cherries, peaches, apples, pears, strawberries, and raspberries would be among the exiles, for all these and many more are families in this vast order.
FRUIT OF HAWTHORN (Cratægus oxyacantha)
Yet would not the disappearance of any of them work such a change in British landscape, as it would suffer if we were to lose the hawthorn, which is also a member of the rose order. It is the most beautiful native flowering tree we possess, for the laburnum, the horse chestnut, and the catalpa must be written off as exotics, though, happily, they have proved most successful colonists.
Not long ago I was driving out from New York to visit Mr. Roosevelt in Long Island. My companion and cicerone was one who gained more than the common measure of esteem while he was American Ambassador in London. When I expressed to him warmly my admiration for the masses ofCornus floridawhich formed the undergrowth of the woods bordering our route, and which (it was in May) were displaying their snowy blossoms in endless drifts and wreaths: "Very beautiful," he said; "but I would rather have your British hawthorn blossom with its fragrance."
This was high testimony from one in whose country Professor Sargent has enumerated no fewer than one hundred and forty-three distinct American species ofCratægusor hawthorn, many of which produce beautiful flowers; but none of those which I have seen are equal to the single species indigenous to the British Isles—Cratægus oxyacantha. In sayinga single species, I am aware that later botanists have distinguished as a species a form found on the Continent and in the midland and south-eastern English counties; but Bentham and Hooker admitted this only as a variety.
In Scotland we always speak of hawthorn blossom, but in England you shall never hear that term, for there they call it May blossom, yet you may seldom find it in bloom till near the end of that month. In Brand'sAntiquities(1777) it is stated that "it was an old custom in Suffolk in most of the farmhouses that any servant who could bring in a branch of hawthorn in full blossom on the 1st of May was entitled to a dish of cream for breakfast. This custom is now disused, not so much from the reluctance of the masters to give the reward, as from the inability of the servants to find the white thorn in flower." The reason for this is to be sought in a change, not in the flowering season, but in the calendar; the old style during the eighteenth century being twelve days in arrear of the new style, so that May Day was equivalent to what is now 12th May. It will be remembered that, while the new style was enacted in Scotland by James VI.'s Privy Council in 1600, it was not until 1751 that an Act of Parliament caused it to be adopted in England, which did the Suffolk peasants out of all chance of cream for breakfast.
One of the many admirable virtues of the hawthorn is its indifference to soil and situation. Give it light and free air, and it will flower as freely on theshingle of a wind-swept beach, where it crouches along the stones to escape the blast, as it does in a fat English pasture, a villa garden, or a Highland glen. The most remarkable grove of ancient hawthorns known to me is to be seen in the Phœnix Park, Dublin. It is a sight never to be forgotten when these trees, many of them (speaking from recollection) 40 feet high, are laden in June with their snowy wreaths. There are many hawthorns of greater height in other districts, notably one at Lenchford, in Worcestershire, whereof the dimensions in 1875 were recorded in theGardeners' Chronicleas 60 feet high and 9 feet in girth.
The hawthorn is a long-lived tree. It was not until after the middle of the nineteenth century that Maxwell's Thorn disappeared from the banks of the Dryfe in a flood. It was under this tree that, according to local tradition, John Lord Maxwell, the Warden, lay wounded after the fatal encounter with the Johnstones on Dryfe Sands, 6th December, 1593. Eight hundred of his men are said to have perished, and the old lord, "a tall man," says Spottiswoode (vol. ii. 446), "and heavy in armour, was in the chase overtaken and stricken from his horse." William Johnston of Kirkhill was his assailant; who, according to some accounts, contented himself with hewing off the Warden's hand, in order to claim the reward offered by his chief to any man who should bring it to him. As Maxwell lay bleeding under the thorn tree, a lady came on the scene—some say it was the lady of Lochwood herself, the Chief's wife,others that it was the wife of James Johnston of Kirkton. Whichever it was, she belonged to the militant party of her sex, if it be true, as alleged, that she knocked out the Warden's brains with the tower keys that hung at her girdle. In justice to the dame it should be mentioned that a few nights previously Lord Maxwell had burnt down Lochwood Tower, declaring that "he would give the Lady Johnston light to set her hood!" Moreover, he had offered the gift of a farm to anyone who should bring him the head of the laird of Lochwood, who, being in arms against the Warden, was technically the King's rebel. Maxwell's Thorn, as aforesaid, ceased to exist sixty years ago, but a young tree was planted in its place, which doubtless will be venerated by generations unborn as the original.
The kindly nature of the hawthorn and the simple nature of its cultural requirements have caused everybody to be familiar with the beautiful red and pink, single and double, varieties which have been raised and widely distributed. There is a variety with scarlet berries which I have only seen in the park at Newton Don, near Kelso. Beautiful as are the common red haws upon which fieldfares, redwings, and other winter visitors mainly depend for provender, this scarlet fruited variety is a much more brilliant object at the dullest time of the year. The variety with yellow haws is no improvement on the type.
Phillips in hisSylva Florifera(1823) states that "a variety has been discovered in a hedge nearBampton, Oxfordshire, which produces white berries." This variety, if it ever existed, appears to have been lost. He also commits himself to the statement that "the fruit of this tree are called haws, from whence the name hawthorn"; which proves that a man may be an excellent botanist and a bad etymologist. In Middle English "hawe" meant a hedge, and also ground enclosed by a hedge. It was in the latter sense that Chaucer wrote in theCanterbury Tales:
And eke there was a polkat [polecat] in his hawe.
The tree got the name of hawthorn,i.e.hedgethorn, because it has no rival as a hedge plant.
And this brings us to consider what is the economic value of the hawthorn. It has become indispensable for hedges, which are as inseparable from a foreigner's impressions of English landscape as poplars are from French country scenery, and as date palms are from that of Egypt.
Green fields of England! wheresoe'erAcross the watery waste we fare,Your image in our hearts we bear,Green fields of England, everywhere.
But the fields would not be so green, they would not indeed stamp themselves on the memory as fields at all, were it not for the hedges that mark them off. In Scotland hedges are not so universal, the preference being given to stone dykes, where the necessary material lies to hand, or, alas, to barbed wire, which,effective though it be as a fence, prevails to vulgarise the fairest scenery. Dr. Walker states in hisEssays of Natural History(1812) that Cromwell's soldiers first planted, or taught the Scots to plant hedges in East Lothian and Perthshire. They learnt the planting all right, but not, it would appear, the subsequent management; for, except in the Lothians, it is the exception to see hedges rightly tended. The plants are allowed to straggle and to be browsed bare below by cattle, when the gaps are repaired by running a wire through them. Far more admirable is the craft of the English hedger, who knows how to make a beautiful and durable fence by plashing and binding.
The timber of hawthorn possesses more merit than is usually assigned to it; in fact, there cannot be said that there is any market for it, owing, probably, to the rough state in which it is almost invariably grown. But it is hard and heavy, with a fine grain, taking a good polish. Some of the wood-cuts in back numbers of theGardeners' Chroniclewere engraved on hawthorn; but Mr. Elwes, who has experimented practically with every British wood, considers that boxwood is of superior texture.
In the good times of old, when men strove more earnestly to cut each other's throats than, as at the present day, to catch each other's votes, every Highland clan has a distinctive badge consisting of a sprig of some common plant whereby friend might be known from foe. The small sept of Ogilvie chose the hawthorn.
No tree or plant has lent its name more freely to denominate places. The Norsemen are responsible forThorn-eyon the left bank of the tidal Thames, to which the Saxons, forgetting thateyis good Norse for "island," extended the name pleonastically to Thorney Island, and then came Edward the Confessor to obliterate both names by building on the island the abbey and church—the West Minster.
Countless are the places called Thornton, Thornhill, Thornbury, etc., in England, all named from the hawthorn—the thorn of thorns; while in Scotland, besides romantic Hawthornden, and in Ireland, the Gaelic wordsceachorscitheog(thsilent) occurs in almost every parish in some form or other—Skeog, Skeagh, Skate, Drumskeog, Tullynaskeagh, etc.
A foreign relative of the hawthorn may be mentioned here as being more worthy of consideration as a timber tree, and, besides, being exceedingly ornamental, namely,Cotoneaster frigida. Most people are familiar with the genusCotoneasterin the form of shrubs of modest stature, producing quantities of red berries; and in gardener's dictionaries, etc., one reads that this Himalayan species grows about 10 feet high. If it did no more than that, it would be well worth planting for the sake of its woolly cymes of white flowers in July and the extraordinary profusion of scarlet berries which follows them; yet, even so, it could not claim notice among forest trees. In fact, it promises to outstrip the hawthorn in height. Some of mine have reached a height of 40 feet already, at an age of fifty years, and if care is bestowed ontimely pruning in youth, the wood is straight, clean and very hard. It has not yet been put to any economic use, so far as known to me, but I have a notion it will prove fine material for the heads of golf clubs.
There is no group of trees whereof the scientific nomenclature has become so hopelessly confused as thePomaceæ, a sub-order of the vast rose order. The group itself divides itself naturally into seven sub-groups or sections, which some botanists treat as independent species; but British foresters need to concern themselves with only five of these sections—namely (1)Sorbus, the rowan; (2)Aria, the whitebeam; (3)Hahnia, the wild service tree; (4)Pyrophorum, the pears; and (5)Malus, the apples.
Some people may feel impatient with these niceties of classification, and declare that popular names serve all useful purpose; but many of these trees are very beautiful, well deserving the attention of planters, who are sure to be disappointed in being served with the wrong species unless they are at the pains to know exactly what they order from nurserymen, and are able to identify the plants when they get them.
The rowan tree (Pyrus aucuparia) is of humble stature, seldom exceeding 40 feet; nevertheless, we should be losers if it disappeared from our woodlands,not only because of its beauty and the delicious diet which it affords to birds, but because of the peculiar veneration with which, in primitive times, it became invested in Northern Europe. The Norsemen held it to be a holy tree, consecrated to Thor, and their faith in its protective virtues became deeply implanted in the folk-lore of our own country.
Rowan-tree and red threadGar the witches come ill-speed.
It has been suggested that the singular expression, "Aroint, thee, witch!" occurring nowhere in English literature except inMacbeth, Act 1, sc. 3, is a corruption of "A rountree, witch!" but the late Professor Skeat sternly refused to entertain that explanation. Anyhow, so long as belief in witchcraft endured in this country, a branch of rowan was esteemed a sure protection against evil spells. In many a Scottish byre a bunch of rowan may still be seen suspended, and a common feature in cottage garden plots consists of a couple of rowan saplings planted before the door, with their tops plaited together to form an arch, so that comers and goers shall thereby derive protection against witchcraft by passing under the tutelary boughs.
FLOWERS OF THE ROWAN (Pyrus aucuparia)
In Strathspey it used to be the custom to cause all sheep and lambs to pass through a hoop of rowan wood on the 1st of May, and flocks and herds were driven to the summer shieling with a rod of the same wood. In some parts of England the rowan is still called the "witchen." Evelyn wrote of it underthat name, and said that in his day (1620-1706) the tree was reputed so sacred in Wales "as that there is not a churchyard without one of them planted in it; so on a certain day in the year everybody religiously wears a cross made of the wood."
By the by, let no lover of woodland ever speak of a mountain ash when he means a rowan. That is a silly name, for the rowan has no affinity with the ash, and although it may be found growing in the Highlands at a height of more than 2,000 feet, yet it is just as much at home anywhere between that altitude and the seaboard. We need not be ashamed of having borrowed the name "rowan" from the Norsemen, for there is a strong Scandinavian strain in our island blood. The Swedes spell itronn, the Norwegiansrogn, and the Icelandersreynir.
The chief claim which the rowan has upon our affection is its autumnal beauty. If the birds would only suffer its scarlet berries to hang a little longer than is their wont, no British tree could match it in brilliancy of fall. It is widely distributed over northern and central Europe, and is established in Iceland, whither it was perhaps carried long ago by pious Norsemen, for it does not occur in America. Little use is now made of its timber, which is very hard, heavy, and tough; so much so that in old days it was reckoned as only second to the yew for bow-making. It is mentioned in the Act 8 Elizabeth c. x. as "witch-hazel," among the woods whereof every bowyer dwelling in London was to keep fifty bows ready in stock.
Among the place-names into which the Gaelic name for the rowan—caorunn—enters may be mentioned Attachoirinn in Islay, Barwhirran in Wigtownshire, and Leachd a' chaorruin in Corrour Forest.
The rowan cannot be confounded with any other species of this family, nor with any of the numerous hybrids which have arisen therein, for it is easily distinguished by its pinnate leaves, consisting of eleven to fifteen leaflets set herring-bone fashion on a midrib about 6 inches long. Except the true service (Pyrus sorbus) all the other species carry entire leaves, lobed in some species, but never pinnate. The true service tree, though believed not to be indigenous to Great Britain, grows readily there, though it is not planted so often as it deserves to be, both on account of its beautiful and useful timber and of the excellent fruit which it bears profusely, qualities which cause it to be very extensively cultivated in France. It is also a highly ornamental tree, as those may testify who have visited Vevay in autumn and admired the brightness of fruit and foliage in the avenues of service trees planted there. I do not know of any specimens in Scotland, but there are several fine service trees from 45 to 65 feet high in English parks; none, however, remaining equal in stature to one at Melbury Court, Dorsetshire, which has now departed, but was recorded by Loudon as being 82 feet high in 1830, with a girth of 9 feet 9 inches. The fruit varies much in quality; the better flavoured kinds being highly esteemed by the French peasantry. Evelyn says, "It is not unpleasant; of which, withnew wine and honey, they make aconditumof admirable effect to corroborate the stomach." Those who wish to plant this tree had best go to a French nurseryman and order it under the name ofCormierorSorbus domestica.
The wild service (P. torminalis) will attain a height of 70 or 80 feet if it is given a fair chance, which it seldom gets from us. Its chief recommendation is its handsome foliage, the leaves being deeply lobed. They turn a fine orange colour in autumn, but the fruit adds nothing to the display, being brown when ripe. For ornamental purposes the whitebeam (P. aria) is far preferable to the wild service, owing to the snowy whiteness of the young shoots and undersides of the leaves. The fruit, moreover, is bright red; but this is of the less moment, inasmuch as birds devour it so soon as it is ripe. By far the noblest of all theSorbusgroup is the HimalayanPyrus vestita(also known asSorbus nepalensis). Its broadly oval, pointed leaves are very large, thickly clothed with white wool when young, remaining white on the undersides until late autumn, when they turn to a clear yellow. The clusters of white flowers are very woolly, and are followed by large round red fruits. It is an exceedingly handsome and stately tree, and ought to be better known in this country than it is at present; but much disappointment has been incurred through the vicious practice followed by nurserymen of grafting it high upon the rowan, a tree of much inferior bulk. The result is that the scion, flourishing vigorously for a few seasons,outgrows the stock, which cannot carry up enough sap to supply the wants of the more robust species. It is pathetic to see the leaves endeavouring to unfold, but failing to do so. There is then nothing for it but to root the whole affair up, and procure seedlings, or, at least, plants graftedlowon the British stock, which, if deeply planted, enable the scions to throw out roots of their own.
LeavingSorbus—the rowans—let us glance atMalus—the apples; and among the fourteen species, all more or less distinguished by the loveliness of their blossom, confine our attention to the wild crab, parent of all our cultivated varieties. Of all the floral displays of British springtide, there is none more exquisite than an old crab in full flower, standing in a sea of blue hyacinths. It says little for our intelligence that, while we are ready to spend lavishly in the purchase of foreign trees and shrubs, many of very doubtful merit, none of us seem to think the crab-tree worth anything except as a stock for grafting orchard apples on.
Nevertheless, the crab has valuable qualities besides its beauty. "Fetch me a dozen crab-tree staves," shouts the porter of King Henry's palace, "and strong ones. I'll scratch your heads!" (K. Henry VIII., Act v. sc. 3). Those golfers who have passed their meridian surely remember that crab was reckoned the only material for club-heads in the old days of hard "gutties." But there was no great store of crab-trees in the land; so when golfers began to become like the sand of the sea for multitude thesupply ran out, and club-masters carved the heads out of beech. A tougher substitute has now been found in the American persimmon (Diospyros), but methinks our native crab would hold its own with any other wood if it were still to be had.
Probably the largest crab-tree in Scotland (if it still stands) is one at Kelloe, in Berwickshire, which Sir R. Christison measured in 1876, and found to be 50 feet high and 8 feet in girth.
The wild pear (Pyrus communis) is much more rare in Britain than the crab-tree, being found only in the southern English counties, and even there it is difficult to decide whether any pear tree is really wild or only a relic of cultivation. The timber of the pear, whether wild or cultivated, is very beautiful, and is one of the choicest for carved work; whereof a fine example may be seen among the panels in Windsor Castle.
In discoursing about the hawthorn, I assigned to it the first place for beauty of blossom among our native trees, but in holding that supremacy it has a dangerous rival in the gean, or wild cherry, which, to quote John Evelyn's eulogy, "will thrive into stately trees, beautified with blossoms of a surprising whiteness, greatly relieving the sedulous bees and attracting birds." In truth, the verdict upon the rivalry of the hawthorn and the gean must be "honours easy," for if the fragrance of the first turns the scale in its favour in spring, the gean scores heavily in autumn through the gorgeous hues of its fading foliage, no other British tree, if it be not the rowan, equalling it in sunset splendour. Nor is the flower of the gean without a fragrance—more delicate and less powerful than that of the hawthorn. Elwes tells how the late Mr. Foljambe, of Osberton, when old and quite blind, used to cause his son to lead him out among the cherry trees when they were in blossom, that he might enjoy their scent.
Doubts have been expressed whether the gean tree can be claimed as truly indigenous, many writers (my friend Canon Ellacombe among others) accepting Pliny's statement (lib. xv. cap. 25) that the cherry was unknown in Italy till Lucullus introduced it from Asia Minor after his victory over Mithridates (B.C.84), and that it was taken by the Romans into Britain. In support of this view may be cited the absence of any name for the cherry in old Gaelic, the modern word,sirist, being merely an adaptation of the Latincerasus, just asan Siosalach—the Chisholm—is a rendering of the Norman name Cecil. The Scottish name "gean" does not help us, being borrowed from the Frenchguigne. Nevertheless, Dr. Henry follows Bentham and Hooker in regarding the wild cherry as undoubtedly indigenous in parts of Great Britain.
Lucullus, indeed—proverbial for his love of good things—may well have brought to Italy some of the cultivated varieties of the cherry; but the wild tree seems to have established itself as far north as Bergen in Norway, in which province there exists a large wood purely of cherry trees; and Wilkomm reported in 1887 having found semi-fossil remains of the gean in Swedish peat mosses; wherefore let us give ourselves the benefit of the doubt and claim this pretty tree as a native of British soil. Anyhow, it is thoroughly at home in these islands, reproducing itself readily both by seed and suckers, wherever it gets a chance; and no tree should be made more welcome in our woodlands, both on account of its beauty and utility.
Hitherto British foresters have treated the wild cherry with unmerited neglect. Nobody thinks of planting geans, except here and there for ornament; nor is there any regular market for the timber. Yet that is of high quality and very ornamental for indoor work, having a fine silky grain and a charming pinkish colour. Mr. Elwes, who has used it for panelling, says that when soaked in lime water it assumes a richer tint, resembling unstained mahogany. It has the merit of seasoning readily, and never warping.
The pews in Gibside Church, Northumberland, were made of cherry wood in 1812, and are reported by Mr. A. C. Forbes to be perfectly sound and well-fitting still. Wild cherry trees are seldom felled till they show signs of decay, and as they are not long-lived—a century being about the outside span of their vigorous life—the quality of the timber should not be estimated from trees more than sixty or seventy years old. The growth is rapid, and the tree may be drawn up in shelter to a great height; there is a specimen in Windsor Park, near the Bishopsgate, which was 93 feet high in 1904, with a girth of 9 feet 3 inches.
In theTrees of Great Britain and Ireland, Messrs. Elwes and Henry have a plate representing an extraordinary cherry tree growing in Savernake Forest, with a wild spread of branches and a bole, covered with enormous burrs, measuring 12 feet 7 inches in girth at 4 feet from the ground. A Scottish counterpart to the Savernake tree may be seen at Gribton, near Dumfries, which, though only 56 feet high, hasa girth of 12 feet 8 inches, with a branch spread of 70 feet. A massive gean tree at Mauldslie Castle, Lanarkshire, was 52 feet high in 1899, with a girth of 13 feet 2 inches. It is fast decaying, nor is the iron band with which its fork has been braced likely to prolong its existence beyond the natural term.
The wild cherry is the parent of all the cultivated varieties, many of which are derived from a high antiquity. Pliny enumerates eight varieties, including those with black and red fruits, and one which he describes as appearing half-ripe, which seems to indicate what we know as the bigarreau cherry. No doubt these varieties were of Asiatic origin, the Chinese and Persians having long preceded European nations in the craft of horticulture. The Rev. R. Walsh, writing in theTransactions of the Horticultural Society, 1826, described "an amber-coloured transparent cherry of a delicious flavour. It grows in the woods in the interior of Asia Minor, particularly on the banks of the Sakari—the ancient Sangarius. The trees attain gigantic size; they are ascended by perpendicular ladders suspended from the lowest branches. I measured the trunk of one; the circumference was 5 feet, and the height where the first branches issued 40 feet; from the summit of the highest branches was from 90 feet to 100 feet, and this immense tree was loaded with fruit."
Compare with this the produce of a single cherry tree during the year 1913 at Faourg, near Avenche, in the Swiss canton of Vaud. It took three men fifteen days to gather the fruit, which weighed in theaggregate two tons. The fruit is of a small and red variety, used for making kirsch; and it was reckoned that the crop of this tree would produce 200 litres of the spirit, which, at 5 francs a litre, amounts to £40.
The scientific name for the gean isPrunus avium—the birds' plum; but what we mean when we speak of "bird cherry" is a very different, though nearly kindred, species—Prunus padus, a pretty native tree of small stature which is spread all over northern Europe and Asia. It is very beautiful when covered with its white flowers in long racemes—pity they last such a short time—but the little black fruits are of no use to any creature bigger than a pheasant. Anglers in Norwegian rivers are familiar with the white plumes of bird cherry, waving like fine lace-work from the grim cliffs overhanging many a greendal.
Lovely as the gean tree is when in full blossom, some of the double-flowering Japanese cherries are even more so, and they have this advantage, that the display is not nearly so fleeting. What may be the wild parent of these cultivated forms I am unable to say; but Mr. J. H. Veitch, writing from Yokohama, indicates that some, at least, are not cherries at all:
"The cherries in this neighbourhood are magnificent. Tinted photographs give a very complete idea of their beauty; one looks up and walks under a ceiling of the softest pink. At Mukojima a row of these cherries a mile long by the river bank, in some places faced by a row on the opposite side of the road, is a sight it will be difficult to forget. Cherries are, in fact, to be seen everywhere in and around Tokio, and it would be difficult to imagine anything more beautifulfor the few days they are in flower. The species is known scientifically asPrunus Mume; it is really an apricot."[13]
"The cherries in this neighbourhood are magnificent. Tinted photographs give a very complete idea of their beauty; one looks up and walks under a ceiling of the softest pink. At Mukojima a row of these cherries a mile long by the river bank, in some places faced by a row on the opposite side of the road, is a sight it will be difficult to forget. Cherries are, in fact, to be seen everywhere in and around Tokio, and it would be difficult to imagine anything more beautifulfor the few days they are in flower. The species is known scientifically asPrunus Mume; it is really an apricot."[13]
GEAN (Prunus avium)In Bloom
By far the finest display of these cherries that I have seen is in the Arnold Arboretum, attached to Harvard University, Boston, U.S. There Professor Sargent and Mr. E. H. Wilson have got together what are probably the finest groups of these lovely trees outside Japan. The profusion of blossom, snowy white or rich pink, must be seen to be believed. Why is not more use made of them in the gardens of great country houses in our own country? They are perfectly hardy, but, as nurserymen usually supply them grafted on crab stocks, incessant vigilance is required during the young stages to prevent the stock reasserting itself and overcoming the scion.
Probably the reason why these exquisite forms of cherry and plum are not more often seen is to be found in the perverse habit which impels most people who have fine private pleasure grounds to spend the sweet o' the year in London. Having been asked by the wife of a great landowner to take counsel with their Scottish gardener about improving the pleasure grounds round their magnificent castle, and perceiving that the climate was peculiarly mild, the site facing the sea, yet sheltered, I suggested that he should plant some of the fine Himalayan rhododendrons, as it was just the place for them. His reply was resentful in tone. "The wur-r-rst of rhododendrons is that they will not flower when the family's at home." So tactless of the rhododendrons!
The very name we have given it forbids us to claim the walnut as a native of the British Isles, for in Anglo-Saxon speech it waswealh knut, the foreign nut, just as they called the Celts of the Westwealas, the foreigners, a name which has persisted to our times, as Wales. So, also, mediæval German writers termed Francedas Welsche Land, and, referring to the whole world, they described it asin allen Welschen und in Deutschen Reichen, "in all Welsh and German realms." It is not easy to fix the limits within which the walnut may be accounted indigenous, so widely has it been cultivated for its fruit; but it is certainly found as a wild tree over a great part of south-eastern Europe, through Asia Minor, the Caucasus, Persia, the Himalayas to Burmah, China, and possibly Japan.
More has been laid upon Roman shoulders in connection with their occupation of Britain than perhaps they should justly bear, but we may safely credit our conquerors with having introduced the walnut, which they held in very high esteem as providing a favourite article of food, and the nuts were easilycarried and planted. The name they gave it—Juglans, i.e.Jovis glans, "Jove's nut"—betokens the value at which they rated this tree. Pliny devotes a long chapter to the walnut, expressing doubt whether it was known in Italy during Cato's life (B.C.234-149). He says that it was brought into Greece from Pontus (Asia Minor), thence to Italy, wherefore the fruit was called Pontic or Greek nuts. He also describes how these nuts were thrown at weddings, certainly a more formidable kind of missile than rice and confetti, as we now do use.
The walnut has adapted itself to the soil and climate of the British Isles in exactly the same measure as the Spanish chestnut—that is, it will thrive in all parts of the United Kingdom and grow to very large dimensions under reasonable conditions of shelter; but it will not produce fruit worth gathering in ordinary seasons north of the English Midlands. Its merit as a timber tree entitles it to far more attention from foresters than it now receives, for, indeed, it is one of the most valuable hardwoods that can be planted. The fruit was too precious to the Romans to allow the tree to be used for that purpose, but, wrote Juvenal,Annosam si forte nucem dejecerat Eurus—"if the east wind happened to uproot an aged walnut"—the timber was highly prized for furniture.
Howbeit, there are walnuts and walnuts. The tree, having been cultivated for its fruit from immemorial time, has developed a great number of varieties, producing large or thin-shelled nuts, which cannotbe trusted for the production of fine timber. Where that is the purpose, it is important to plant the wild type, for which the demand is not such as to encourage nurserymen to stock it. John Evelyn, nearly two hundred and fifty years ago, urged his fellow-countrymen to give more attention to the walnut, but he urged in vain.
"How would such publick plantations improve the glory and wealth of a nation! but where shall we find the spirits among our countrymen? Yes, I will adventure to instance in those plantations of Sir Richard Bidolph upon the downs near Letherhead in Surry; Sir Robert Clayton at Morden near Godstone, and so about Cassaulton [Casehorton], where many thousands of these trees do celebrate the industry of the owners, and will certainly reward it with infinite improvement, as I am assured they do in part already, and that very considerably; besides the ornament which they afford to those pleasant tracts."
"How would such publick plantations improve the glory and wealth of a nation! but where shall we find the spirits among our countrymen? Yes, I will adventure to instance in those plantations of Sir Richard Bidolph upon the downs near Letherhead in Surry; Sir Robert Clayton at Morden near Godstone, and so about Cassaulton [Casehorton], where many thousands of these trees do celebrate the industry of the owners, and will certainly reward it with infinite improvement, as I am assured they do in part already, and that very considerably; besides the ornament which they afford to those pleasant tracts."
It is curious to find Evelyn, who infused a fair proportion of scientific scepticism into his practical treatise, lending credence to some of the mythical virtues of the walnut. Thus he gravely writes that "the distillation of the leaves with honey and urine makes hair spring on bald heads."
In raising this tree from seed the walnuts offered for sale as food should be avoided, for these generally have been kiln-dried, and their vitality, as well as their flavour, thereby impaired or destroyed. Nuts should be selected from large trees of the best habit, laid in sand during the winter and sown in February. They are rather ticklish plants to handle in the nursery, owing to the long bare tap-root which they send down, and which should be shortened when theseedlings are transplanted, as they should be at a year old. If fine timber be the object, the young trees when planted out should be stimulated to upward growth by the presence of other trees as nurses. A very slight spring frost suffices to destroy the young growth; but the walnut generally escapes that risk by being the latest of all our woodland trees, except the ash, to put forth leaves. I do not remember to have seen the young leaves appear so early as they did in the remarkable spring of 1914, when they were put forth before the end of April; the ash continuing bare that year till the very end of May.
Of the many fine walnut trees scattered over the midland and southern English counties, I have seen none equal in size to one figured in Elwes and Henry's great work (vol. ii., plate 74), a truly noble specimen growing at Barrington Park, Oxfordshire. In 1903 it was between 80 and 85 feet high, with a girth of 17 feet. The bole and branches are covered with burrs, indicating that the timber would make beautiful panelling and veneers.
The only notable walnuts which I can remember to have seen in Scotland are one at Gordon Castle, another at Cawdor, and a third at Blairdrummond. The first of these would have been a magnificent tree had it been subjected to forest discipline in youth, and so expended its vigour in height rather than breadth. It is only 60 feet high, with a girth of 10 feet, but it covers with its huge branches a space nearly 80 feet in diameter. The tree at Cawdor is about 65 feet high, with a girth of 15 feet 7 inches;and that at Blairdrummond is the tallest of the three, with a girth of 13 feet. Such dimensions cannot compare with those which the walnut attains in Southern Europe. A writer in theGardeners' Chronicledescribed one in the Baidar Valley, near Balaclava, which yields from 80,000 to 100,000 nuts annually, and belongs to five Tartar families, who divide the produce between them.
Still, there are so many fine examples of what this tree may become in Great Britain that one may well ask why the production of its timber has been so utterly neglected. Mahogany and other foreign woods have usurped its place in the cabinet trade; but we still import large supplies of walnut, not only for panelling, but for the stocks of army and sporting small arms. For that purpose it has no equal, owing to its lightness, strength, the nicety with which it can be cut to fit gunlocks, and because it never warps nor swells when exposed to wet. "During the last war," says Selby in 1842, "when most of the continental ports were shut against us, walnut timber rose to an enormous price, as we may collect from the fact of a single tree having been sold for £600; and as such prices offered temptation that few proprietors were able to resist, a great number of the finest walnuts growing in England were sacrificed at that period to supply the trade."[14]Some years ago the War Office authorities sought to extend their sources of supply by substituting one of the superb kinds of timber grown in our colonies;but although twenty different woods were submitted and tested, none was found suitable except the American black walnut.
This (Juglans nigra) is a larger tree than the European species, growing to a height of 150 feet with a girth of 15 to 20 feet in the middle States of North America. It has now become very scarce, owing to reckless destruction of the forests; but there are some specimens in England already approaching the dimensions of those in Ohio, Indiana, and Kentucky. For instance, there is one at the Mote, near Maidstone, over 100 feet high, with a girth of 12 feet 6 inches in 1905, and another in the public park at Twickenham, 98 feet high in the same year, with a girth of 14 feet 3 inches. Besides some lofty black walnuts of the ordinary type at Albury Park, Surrey, there is one very handsome tree on the terrace, near the house, distinguished as a variety under the titleJ. nigra alburyensis.
I do not know of any in Scotland, except a few hundreds which I raised from seed about ten years ago, and which are now planted out in mixture with the JapaneseCercidiphyllum. The only fault I find with them is that, while the young growth is as tender as that of the common walnut, it is earlier in starting, and therefore more liable to injury from spring frosts.
The timber of the black walnut is quite equal in quality and superior in beauty to that of the European species. The tree is sometimes confused with the kindred genus hickory (Carya), whereof there aremany fine specimens in Great Britain; but the two genera may be readily distinguished from each other by cutting across a twig. The pith of all species of walnut is neatly chambered, that of the hickories is solid.
BLACK WALNUT (Juglans nigravar.alburyensis)At Albury Park, SurreyHeight 75 ft., girth 9 ft. 6 in.
"Heigh-ho! sing heigh-ho! unto the green holly:Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly:Then heigh-ho, the holly!This life is most jolly."
It is rather curious that, dearly as Shakespeare loved the woodland and ready as he ever was to enrich his verse with references to trees and flowers, he never mentions the holly except in this song fromAs You Like It. This is the more remarkable because holly is more widely distributed over Britain than most other forest growths, and must have been far more abundant in the sixteenth century before the land was infested by rabbits to the extent it is now; for these accursed rodents make a clean sweep of holly seedlings and also destroy large trees by barking them.
It may be thought that the holly should be ranked as a shrub rather than as a forest tree; but when well grown it is fairly entitled to the superior rank, for there are many fine specimens in these islands upwards of 50 feet high. Dr. Henry measured one in 1909 near Ampthill, in Bedfordshire, 60 feethigh and ll½ feet in girth. But this tree has no single bole, for it divides into seven large stems at about 18 inches from the ground. A far more shapely specimen is one which Lord Kesteven measured at Doddington Hall, Lincoln, and found in 1907 to be about 50 feet high, with a girth of 9½ feet at breast height. Being very patient of shade, the holly is sometimes drawn up to still greater height than this; Mr. Elwes having found some at Russells, near Watford, crowded among beech trees and rising to 70 and 75 feet.
The most remarkable holly grove known to me is in the park of Gordon Castle, covering a steep bank overlooking what used to be the Bog o' Gicht, but now a fertile holm. It is not known whether these hollies are of natural growth or planted, but they are evidently of great age; indeed, they are mentioned as remarkable in a description of Gordon Castle written in 1760—154 years ago. There are about five hundred trees in the grove, irregularly scattered along the bank, fifty-four of them being crowded into the space of about a quarter of an acre. But alas! one may look in vain for seedlings which might ensure the perpetuation of this ancient grove; all that may spring up are greedily devoured by rabbits.
Talking of seedlings, the propagation of hollies from seed requires to be set about in light of the fact that the seed requires a year of repose before germinating. The readiest way, therefore, is to lay the berries in moist sand for twelve months, after which the seeds may be sown in a nursery bed, where they will soon show signs of life.
The largest, though not the loftiest, holly I have ever seen is the remarkable tree at Fullarton House, near Ayr. It stands upon a shaven lawn, which is greatly to the detriment of its nourishment, and it has lost much of its height through decay of the upper branches. But it has a single hole of 8 feet, measuring at the narrowest part, 3 feet from the ground, 11 feet 3 inches in girth. The spread of branches is 189 feet in circumference.
Having been cultivated for centuries as a hedge and shrubbery plant, the holly has sported into a great variety of forms and colours, none of them, to my taste, the match of the wild type for beauty, and some of them mere ugly caricatures thereof. The best variegated forms are of ancient descent—namely Golden Queen and Silver Queen, which are quite as vigorous and bear fruit as freely as the type. These are both very beautiful; as to the other varieties, the world would be no loser if they were all extirpated, unless the quaint little hedgehog holly, described by Parkinson in 1640, were retained as a curiosity. To this doom, however, I certainly would not consign the yellow-berried holly, which gives a fine contrast with the common scarlet-berried kind, and is stated by Cole (writing in 1657) to have been found in a wild state near Wardour Castle. John Evelyn wrote in 1664 of a variety with white berries; Loudon also referred to this, and also to one with black berries; but I have neither seen these varieties nor met with anyone who had. It is doubtful whether both writers have not been misled by hearsay.
Evelyn employed all the resources of typography to express his enthusiasm for this fine evergreen:—
"Above all the naturalGreenswhich inrich ourhome-bornstore, there is non certainly to be compared to theHolly, insomuch as I have often wonder'd at ourcuriosityafter foreign Plants and expensivedifficulties, to the neglect of thecultureof thisvulgarbutincomparable tree....Is there underHeavena more glorious and refreshing object of the kind than an impregnableHedgeofnear three hundred foot in length, nine foot high, andfive in diameter; which I can show in my poorGardensat any time of the year, glitt'ring with its arm'd and vernish'dleaves? The tallerStandardsat orderly distances, blushing with their naturalCoral. It mocks at the rudest assaults of theWeather,Beasts, orHedge-breakers."
"Above all the naturalGreenswhich inrich ourhome-bornstore, there is non certainly to be compared to theHolly, insomuch as I have often wonder'd at ourcuriosityafter foreign Plants and expensivedifficulties, to the neglect of thecultureof thisvulgarbutincomparable tree....Is there underHeavena more glorious and refreshing object of the kind than an impregnableHedgeofnear three hundred foot in length, nine foot high, andfive in diameter; which I can show in my poorGardensat any time of the year, glitt'ring with its arm'd and vernish'dleaves? The tallerStandardsat orderly distances, blushing with their naturalCoral. It mocks at the rudest assaults of theWeather,Beasts, orHedge-breakers."
This hedge grew, not at Wotton, but at Sayes Court, Evelyn's other place near Deptford, which he leased to the Czar Peter the Great in 1697, and had occasion to repent having done so, for that eccentric monarch, in the intervals of his work at the dockyard, amused himself by causing his courtiers to trundle each other in wheelbarrows down a steep descent into the said hedge, which was seriously damaged thereby.
No tree is better adapted than the holly for making a hedge; but it does not always get the treatment necessary to produce the finest effect. I have never seen any to equal the holly hedges at Colinton House, in Mid-Lothian, which were planted between 1670 and 1680, and are now from 35 to 40 feet high, tapering upwards from a basal diameter of about 20 feet. The lower branches have rooted themselves freely, so that it would be difficult to create a more effective barrier of vegetation. Thetotal length of these hedges is 1,120 feet, having been formed originally with about 4,500 plants. Colonel Trotter's gardener, Mr. John Bruce, takes a just pride in tending them, clipping them annually at the end of March, so as to ensure a close young growth maturing before the winter frosts.
The proper season for planting hollies is May, after growth has started. If the operation is delayed till autumn, they make no new roots, and suffer so much from frost and cold winds that many of them never get established. This is one of those secrets which one has to find out for oneself, at the cost of many wasted seasons.Haud ignarus loquor.Although in generous soil the holly will make long annual shoots, it is very slow in forming wood, which may account for our neglect of it as a timber tree. But the wood is of very fine quality, being hard and white, excellent for turnery and for making mathematical instruments.
"We presume," says Phillips inSylva Florifera(1823), "that many noble trees of holly would be seen in this country, but for the practice of cutting all the finest young plants to make coachmen's whips, thus leaving only the crooked branches or suckers to form shrubs." The demand for this purpose must have diminished with the spread of automobilism; but the ravages wrought on holly trees for Christmas decoration are deplorable, raiders finding a ready sale for their plunder in all the big towns. It is a gentle custom to "weave the holly round the Christmas hearth"; but it is desirable that the weaversshould observe some distinction betweenmeumandtuum—pronouns which they seem to regard as synonymous when applied to holly.
Pliny repeats, without comment, the statement by Pythagoras that the flowers of holly turn water into ice, and, further, that if a man throws a staff of holly at a beast, and misses it, the staff will return to his hand. Here we seem to have a report of the use of the boomerang; but Parkinson, writing in the seventeenth century, expresses lofty disdain for such fables. "This," says he, "I here relate that you may understand the fond and vain conceit of those times, which I would to God we were not in these days tainted withal." The Scottish clans of Drummond and Maxwell of old bore the holly as their badge.
In Lowland Scots the word "hollen" preserves the original English form, which in Ancren Riwle (about 1230) is written "holin," being direct from the Anglo-Saxon "holen, holegn." Chaucer writes it "holm," a form which occurs in such place-names as Holmwood and Holmesdale in Surrey. It is also preserved in the name holm-oak,i.e.the ilex or evergreen oak, whereof the young leaves bear holly-like spines. It is an interesting feature in both these trees, as well as in the holly-leavedOsmanthus, that the leaves produced above the level of browsing animals are spineless, such defence being needless for the upper branches. This characteristic has been called in question by persons founding their observation upon cultivated varieties of the holly, some of which bearnone but spineless leaves, others none but spined ones. It will, however, be found to be the normal habit in wild hollies.
It is a hazardous thing for a Saisneach to dabble in Celtic etymology, yet will I venture to mention that the Gaelic for holly iscuileann, and may be recognised in such place-names as Cullen in Banffshire and Lanarkshire and (aspirated) Barhullion in Wigtownshire. Far seen Slieve Gullion, a cone of the Mountains of Mourne, in Armagh (1,893 feet), is popularly connected with the name of Cuileann, a worker in metals in the reign of Conchobar Mac-Nessa, King of Ulster; but it is written Sliebhe Cuilinn in the Irish Annals, which indicates Holly Mountain as the true meaning. From the same source we are able to interpret Cullen, Cullion, and Cullenach, the names of many Irish townlands, as derived from vanished hollies; and Cuileanntrach Castle, in Meath, destroyed by one Rory in 1155, was so called because of the hollies on the shore.
The enormous natural order ofLeguminosæor pea-flowered plants contains many of the loveliest flowering plants in the world, but among them there are but three which, attaining the stature of trees, contribute importantly to the beauty of British woodlands—namely, the common laburnum, the alpine laburnum, and the false acacia or locust tree.