Part 10

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-leaved _Osmanthus_, 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 bear none 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 is _cuileann_, 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.

Pea-flowered Trees

The enormous natural order of _Leguminosæ_ or 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.

Every country child knows the laburnum, but it is not every planter who recognises that there are two distinct species, bearing a general resemblance to each other, but differing in the time of flowering and in other important respects. The species most usually planted is the common laburnum (_L. vulgare_), and of a truth it would be difficult to name any tree more delectable with its "dropping wells of fire." It is uncertain how early it was brought from Central Europe to Great Britain; Tradescant had it growing in 1596; but if "awburne," mentioned in an Irish Act of Edward IV. (cap. iv., 1464) among the four woods prescribed for the bow with which every Englishman in Ireland was to provide himself, means "laburnum," it follows that this tree must have been in cultivation from very early times. Indeed, the botanist Matthiolus mentions it as being better even than the yew for bow-making; and we may recognise the word "awburne" in the old Lowland Scots name for the laburnum, "hoburn saugh," both being from the alternative Latin form, _alburnus_. Gerard called it the bean-trefoil.

There is but one precaution to be observed in planting laburnums--namely, that they should not be within reach of horses or cattle, for the seeds contain a powerful poison called cytisine. Some years ago, wishing to do wayfarers a service by enlivening a stretch of high road, I caused a row of laburnums to be planted on either side. The trees had attained some stature, when a Clydesdale mare belonging to the tenant of a field bordering the road suddenly died, her death being attributed to eating laburnum seeds, so the trees had to be uprooted. Neither leaves nor bark appear to contain the poison, judging from the avidity shown by rabbits in devouring them. No tree is so vulnerable _at all ages_ by those detestable creatures as are the laburnum and the holly. The largest stems are liable to be barked by them in hard weather. Some writers have copied Pliny in stating that bees will not visit the flowers of laburnum; but Pliny cannot have been writing from personal observation, for modern bees, at least, show no aversion to the yellow blossoms.

The common laburnum seldom exceeds 30 feet in height. The largest I have seen stands in the laundry yard of Alnwick Castle, over 40 feet high, wide-spreading, with a double stem measuring over 11 feet in girth near the ground. When Loudon measured it in 1835 the girth was only 6 feet 11 inches. It is a magnificent sight when in bloom. The timber of laburnum, though now greatly neglected in favour of foreign woods, is of admirable quality for cabinet work, being of a dark olive tint, and taking a fine polish. Seeing that the laburnum is perfectly hardy in our climate and grows rapidly in any well-drained soil, it seems a pity that the fine material it produces is not more commonly used.

The alpine laburnum (_L. alpinum_) goes by the name of Scottish laburnum in the nursery trade. Like the common laburnum, it is a native of Central Europe, being, probably, merely the mountain form of the other, to which it bears a strong general resemblance. The readiest means of distinguishing between the two species consists in the foliage and young shoots. In the common laburnum the leaf stalks, young shoots, and under sides of the leaves are thickly clothed with a smooth, silky pubescence, whereas in the alpine species these parts are quite bare, which causes the tree when in leaf to appear of a deeper green than the other. But the important difference for planters is that the alpine laburnum blossoms a fortnight or so later than the common laburnum, thereby prolonging the display of these charming trees. Elwes describes the flowers of the alpine laburnum as being paler in colour than those of the other species; but according to my own observation they are of the richer gold. There are some fine specimens in the Edinburgh Botanic Garden, verging upon 100 years old, about 40 feet high, and now past their prime. The timber is of the same fine quality as that of the common laburnum.

Some beautiful hybrids have been reared between these two species, and planters cannot be too strongly recommended to use them. The variety known as _L. watereri_ bears flower-tassels 15 to 18 inches long. As it is propagated by grafting on the common species, care should be taken not to allow the stock to overcome the scion, root suckers and stem spray being rigidly suppressed.

Another curious hybrid is _L. adami_, which originated nearly a hundred years ago in a French nursery through engrafting _Cytisus purpureus_ on a laburnum stem, with the result that this graft-hybrid produces yellow flowers on some branches and violet ones on others.

Mr. Gerald Loder has secured a charming effect at Wakehurst Place, Sussex, by planting wistaria to grow with laburnum, the flower racemes being similar in size and shape, but respectively of the complementary colours, yellow and violet.

In writing of a beautiful tree as the false Acacia, no reflection upon its integrity is implied in the epithet. The Robinia is so called because Englishmen have chosen to call it an acacia, which it is not, any more than it is a locust tree, as the Americans speak of it. Its scientific title is _Robinia pseudacacia_, commemorating Jean Robin, who first reared it in France in 1601 from seeds sent to him from North America, where it is very widely spread and much valued for the durability of its timber.

William Cobbett (1762-1835) conceived an extravagant idea of its merits, and predicted that it would supersede all British trees, including the oak; but this expectation has fallen far short of fulfilment. Among many other landowners who were induced to act on the faith of it, Lord Folkestone, a fellow-Radical of Cobbett's, planted 13,000 or 14,000 locusts at Coleshill Park, Berkshire, in 1824; but of these only very few remain now, none of them over 60 feet high. The fact is, the _Robinia_ loves more sun than it gets in most parts of our islands and a hotter soil. This renders it unsuitable for planting in Scotland, especially in the humid west. There are, indeed, a few large specimens north of the Tweed, such as one at Cordale House, Dumbartonshire, 64 feet high by 7 feet in girth; another at Mauldslie Castle, Lanarkshire, 60 feet high by 8 feet 7 inches in girth; and, most northerly of all, one at Gordon Castle, which in 1904 measured 56 feet high by 9 feet in girth. But, as a rule, it is only to be found in good form in the sunnier shires; besides, notwithstanding the strength of its timber when felled, the growing boughs are exceedingly brittle, which makes the tree unsuitable for exposure to high winds.

On the sandy soil of parts of Surrey, especially about St. George's Hill, the locust thrives well, reproducing itself freely from self-sown seed, and forming very lovely objects when covered with fragrant white blossoms in June. Even in such parts of England where it does best, it is not profitable to let it stand longer than, say, twenty or thirty years, when it makes admirable fencing and gate-posts, which are almost imperishable. At a greater age the trunk becomes coarse and deeply furrowed, often becoming rotten towards the centre. Elwes mentions a locust tree at Frogmore, near Windsor, as the largest in Britain, which he found in 1908 to be 88 feet high by 14 feet 7 inches in girth. One about the same height at Bowood, Lord Lansdowne's place in Wiltshire, was slightly taller, but girthed only 8½ feet.

In France and Italy the locusts thrive as vigorously as in their native continent, and are exceedingly beautiful during the flowering season. They also make very effective hedges, being regularly cut over, when they send up long and strong shoots armed with murderous thorns.

Few trees stand the drought, heat, and smoke of London as well as the _Robinia_, which carries its verdure unchanged long after the limes and elms have become seared and unsightly. Many a time, when Parliament continued sitting through and after the dog days, have I refreshed my eyes by gazing upon a fine _Robinia_ which stood at the corner of the late Lord Sefton's house in Belgrave Square. But that tree is no more, for, when the house changed hands after its former owner's death, and was put into the hands of builders and decorators, they felled my friendly _Robinia_.

There are three species of _Robinia_ seldom planted in this country--namely, _R. hispida_, _R. neo-mexicana_, and _R. viscosa_, all with beautiful pink or rose-coloured flowers. Of these, the first-named, a native of Carolina, is the most desirable, but it is even more brittle than the locust or false acacia. Its blossoms are so exquisite as to entitle the tree to the advantage of being trained on a wall.

There are two other trees of the peaflower order which one would fain see more frequently planted in the sunnier districts of Great Britain, namely the Judas tree (_Cercis siliquastrum_) and the white-flowered Sophora (_S. japonica_). I happen to be writing within a couple of hundred yards of the finest Judas tree known to me--at Twyford Lodge, near Winchester. It is 35 feet high, and in these early days of May presents a sight which cannot easily be forgotten. The branches, still leafless, are thickly set with blossom; flowers even break out from the old bark on the stem, and the effect of the whole is a dome of soft _vieux rose_ (see Frontispiece). It is a native of southern Europe, but agrees perfectly with the climate of England, except in northerly districts which are scant of sun, where it should receive the protection of a wall to encourage the formation of flower buds. The Judas tree (so named from the fond belief that the false Apostle hanged himself thereon) is seldom to be seen in our pleasure-grounds, though it has often been planted there; the reason for this being that it is of slow growth in its early stages, and gets smothered with ranker things, often of less merit.

The Pagoda tree (_Sophora japonica_) is a native of China, where from immemorial time it has been used in medicine, its flowers, seeds and bark being powerfully purgative. Its blossoms appear in August and September, varying in hue from white to yellow, with a tinge of purple. Those which I have seen bear cream-coloured flowers in long, loose panicles, contrasting finely with the dark, pinnate foliage. The tallest specimens I have seen are at Syon House, about 70 feet high. There is also a very large one within the Tilt Yard of Arundel Castle, and Elwes measured one at Cobham Park, Kent, which was 85 feet high in 1905. At page 144 is shown a fine Pagoda tree in the Botanic Garden at Oxford. I do not remember to have seen any specimens in Scotland. Probably the late flowering habit of the tree would not suit the northern kingdom.

The Elder

In the humid atmosphere of the west there is no more inveterate forest growth than the elder or, as we call it in Scotland, the bourtree (_Sambucus nigra_), which, springing from seeds which birds, having stuffed themselves with the sweet berries, distribute far and wide, shoots up with amazing rapidity, indifferent as to sun or shade, for it grows happily under dense forest canopy, although it is only in the open that it makes full display of its great discs of cream-coloured flowers.

From the earliest times there have been two schools of opinion about the elder. Pliny put faith in decoction of its leaves as a febrifuge, and in his day malaria was a terrible scourge in Italy. In 1644 appeared a book entirely devoted to its virtues--_The Anatomie of the Elder_, translated from the Latin of Dr. Martin Blockwich by C. de Iryngio; and thirty years later John Evelyn burst into a coruscation of italic type in praise of this humble tree.

"If the _Medicinal_ properties of the _Leaves_, _Bark_, _Berries_, &c., were thoroughly known, I cannot tell what our _Country-man_ could aile for which he might not fetch a _Remedy_ from every _Hedge_, either for _Sickness_ or _Wound_. The inner _Barke_ of _Elder_, apply'd to any _burning_, takes out the _fire_ immediately. _That_, or in season the _Buds_, boyl'd in Water-grewel for a _Break-fast_, has effected wonders in the _Fever_; and the _decoction_ is admirable to asswage _Inflammations_ and _telrous_ humors, and especially the _Scorbut_. But an _Extract_ or _Theriaca_ may be compos'd of the _Berries_, which is not only efficacious to eradicate this _Epidemical_ inconvenience, and greatly to assist _Longevity_ (so famous is the story of _Næander_), but is a kind of _Catholicon_ against all infirmities; and of the same _Berries_ is made an incomparable _Spirit_ which, drunk by itself or mingled with _Wine_, is not only an excellent drink, but admirable in the _Dropsy_.... The _Oyntment_ made with the young _buds_ and _leaves_ in _May_ with _Butter_, is most soveraign for _Aches_, shrunk _Sinews_, _Hemorrhoids_, etc."

And so on and so on, much in the strain of modern advertisement of patent medicines. The boot is on the other leg now, for although hot elder-berry wine glows comfortably in memories of boyhood, I know not where I might now get a glass thereof, were I to perish for want of it.[15] Thoughtful housewives still provide elder flower water on the toilet tables of their guests, and methinks the ointment may be found in some conservative nurseries.

Contemporary with mediæval esteem of the elder was the belief that it was accursed because it was the tree whereon Judas hanged himself. We know, of course, that in Southern Europe the beautiful Judas tree (_Cercis siliquastrum_) is stained by that imputation, but Sir John Mandeville (fourteenth century) assured his countrymen that he had been shown at Jerusalem the identical "Tree of Eldre" on which the traitor ended his career. The chief reason for hesitating to accept Mandeville's evidence is that he never, or hardly ever, told the truth except by accident. Shakespeare, however, entertained the belief, for in _Love's Labour's Lost_ he makes Biron say to Holofernes, "Judas was hanged on an elder," and science has lent assent to the rural fancy which gave the name Jew's Ears to the flabby black fungus that makes the elder its peculiar host by calling it _Hirneola auricula-Judæ_.

The pith which bulks so largely in the young growth of elder ceases to increase after the second year, and becomes compressed, and the wood that forms round it is exceedingly hard. In old times it was much in request for making pipes and other musical instruments. Pliny has preserved a quaint bit of folk-lore about it. He says the shepherds believe "that the most sonorous horns are made of an elder growing where it has never heard a cock crow." In our day we put the wood to no use whatever, unless, in the West of England, butchers still use it for skewering meat, which it was supposed to guard from taint. But--

No sound shall creak through the solemn pines, The ocean shall lose its roar, The wild horse cease to skim the plain, The alpine peaks be level again, The eagle forget to soar,

before our boys forget the simple craft that turns whistles and popguns out of elder shoots. For this, and certain other qualities, the elder claims a permanent place in our affection. It never winces or complains under the harshest phases of our climate, and it forgets its melancholy at midsummer, when an old bourtree, 30 feet high or so, set with scores of creamy saucers, is a really beautiful object.

The elder has given names to many places in our land. In the Cornish dialect of Celtic, now extinct, it was called _scau_ and _scauan_, and is preserved in Tresco, Boscawen, Penscauan, etc. In old Celtic it was _trom_, genitive _truim_, whence, as we learn from the Book of Armagh, the town Trim, in Meath, was formerly _Ath-truim_, the elder ford. Galtrim, in the same county, appears in the annals as _Cala-truim_, the meadow of the elder. Trimmer, Trummer, and Trummery are Irish place-names, all perpetuating the memory of _tromaire_, an elder wood. The Truim, a principal tributary of the Spey, probably was originally Amhuinn Truim, the elder river. In the Scottish lowlands we find Bourtriehill, Bourtriebush, etc., while in England it is difficult to distinguish "elder" in composition from "alder." Skeat suggests the two words are of identical origin, and in each the _d_ is intrusive. Elderfield, a parish in Worcestershire, Ellerby and Ellerton in Yorkshire bear a pretty clear stamp.

The Hazel

To admit the hazel to rank among forest trees may seem like magnifying a molehill into a mountain; but it was a growth so important to the primitive community, as the only native tree contributing to winter provender, that it would be ungrateful to omit it. I was greatly impressed by this fact when, many years ago, we were exploring "crannogs," or lake dwellings, in the south-west of Scotland, in all of which nut-shells were found in quantity.

One instance was particularly remarkable. Dirskelvin Loch, a small sheet of water in Old Luce Parish, contained a very large crannog, built, as we roughly calculated, with between 2,000 and 3,000 trees. The loch having been drained away, we proceeded to exfoliate the crannog. In going along what had been the north-east margin of the vanished loch, I found it deeply covered with hazel-nut shells--many, many cartloads of them. Evidently they were kitchen waste from the crannog, drifted to that quarter before the prevailing south-west wind.

If the reader does not consider that the food it produces justifies admission of the hazel among forest trees, let him meet me at Merton Parish Church, on Tweedside, turn off the main road to the left at Clint Mains, and, as we travel towards Bemersyde, he shall see in the road fence on his right hand a row of hazels which it would be a misuse of terms to style bushes. Speaking from recollection, they stand about 25 feet high, with single stems that must girth not less than 18 inches to 2 feet. The fact is, the hazel does not often get a chance of attaining its full stature, being commonly cut for copse or treated as undergrowth.

He, however, who aims at growing hazel timber need not waste time in educating our British _Corylus avellana_, but plant the Turkish hazel, _C. colurna_, which is perfectly hardy in our climate. It is represented by very few specimens in these islands, albeit it was grown in England as "the filbeard of Constantinople" so long ago as 1665. The finest trees of this species are at Syon House, Brentford, the tallest of which was 75 feet high in 1904, with a girth of 6 feet 9 inches, and a clean bole of 30 feet. The timber is said to have a beautiful texture, pinkish white, and sometimes grained like bird's-eye maple. French cabinetmakers import it under the name of _noisetier_.

Returning to our native hazel, we no longer depend upon its fruit to sustain us through the winter, though large quantities of the cultivated varieties, filbert and cob-nut, are still grown in Kent for the market. Of the wood, it can only be said that it produces excellent walking-sticks, and has no equal in hurdle-making. Modern anglers have no use for it, preferring greenheart and split cane, though of old it was considered a _sine qua non_ for rod-making. Thus the author of _The Boke of Saint Albans_ prescribes:

"Ye that woll be crafty in anglynge, ye must fyrste lerne to make your harnays, that is to wyte your rodde.... And how ye shall make your rodde crafty here I shall teche you. Ye shall kytte betwene Myghelmas and Candylmas a fayr staffe of a fadome and an halfe longe, and arme grete, of hasyll, willowe, or aspe."

The prescription goes on for drying, straightening, and boring out the middle of the staff, and then--

"In the same season take a fayr yerde of grene hasyll and beth hym evyn and streyghte, and let it drye with the staffe, and whan they ben drye make the yerde mete into the hole in the staffe, unto halfe the length of the staffe.... And thus shall ye make you a rodde soo prevy that ye may walke therewyth, and there shall noo man wyte where abowte ye goo."

Seeing that the staff was to be "a fadome and an halfe longe" (9 feet), and as thick as his arm, the wayfarer's progress might not be so "prevy" as is set forth if water bailiffs were on the lookout!

The Ailanto