Part 14

Geologically the yew is of immense antiquity in this island; indeed, it grew in what is now the island of Britain before that was severed from the Continent, as is proved by its remains in the forest bed underlying the glacial drift on the coast of Norfolk, where its fruits, identical with those of the present time, have been recognised lying among the bones of elephant, rhinoceros, and four species of bear. A closely kindred form of yew, with somewhat smaller seeds, has been found in the German coal-fields, showing that the type has existed from an incalculably distant period, before the formation of the chalk. Botanically, therefore, the yew must be regarded as contemporary with such archaic types of vegetation as the Gingko, the Umbrella pine (_Sciadopytis_), the Cycads, and the Horsetails.

Of the age of individual trees exaggerated estimates have been formed and statements devoid of evidence made. Thus a fine yew at Yew Park, Clontarf, near Dublin, is confidently shown to visitors as that under which Brian Boruimh, King of Ireland, died on Good Friday, A.D. 1014. Very likely he breathed his last under a yew tree growing on that spot; but it is incredible that this should be the identical tree, for although it has a wide spread of branches, the trunk only measures 12 feet in girth. Compare this with the recorded increase of a yew at Ankerwyke, near Staines, which in 1822 girthed 27 feet 8 inches, and in 1877 had increased to 30 feet 5 inches, and it is clear that the Clontarf tradition cannot be seriously entertained.

It would grievously wound the feelings of a townman of Chichester to express any lack of confidence in the tradition which affirms that the yews in Kinglye Bottom, near that town, were growing there when the Norsemen landed among them a thousand years ago; but listen to Dr. Lowe's chilly analysis of the grounds for that belief. "Had it been said that yews were there, the statement would have been accurate; but that 'the yews,' meaning those still existing, were then in being, is too large a demand on our credulity, as there is no tree at that place which exceeds 15.4 feet in girth, or possibly about five hundred years in age."[23] In like manner the belief that Montrose rested under the fine yew at Abercairney, in Perthshire, must be dismissed, for it only girths 10 feet 7 inches, indicating an age of about 200 years; whereas to have afforded effective shelter in the year 1640 it ought by this time to be at least 370 years old.

The usual indication of age by annual rings of growth cannot be trusted in the case of the yew, owing to a peculiarity in its habit of growth. Injury to a main branch often causes all that part of the stem with which it is connected to die under the bark right down to the ground, the injury being repaired by a rush of young shoots from the living bark; and these, if they get head room, grow vigorously and ultimately become welded together. This process vitiates the record of annual rings, and although it is a means of rejuvenescence which no doubt prolongs the life of the tree, it would not be safe to assume that there is any yew in the British Isles more than five hundred years old. Dr. John Lowe was at great pains to collect evidence on this matter, and failed to obtain _documentary_ proof of any yew exceeding 250 years of age.

The practice of planting yews in churchyards helps to account for the extravagant statements about the age of certain trees. Generation after generation has become familiar with seeing a yew beside the parish church; the date of the building of the church being accurately known, it comes to be assumed that church and tree are coeval. Dr. Lowe gives a case in point of two churches in contiguous parishes in Kent, each of which has a large yew in the churchyard reckoned to be the same age as the church. One of these yews measures 16 feet in girth, the other 17 feet; but as one of the churches dates back to the eleventh century, and the other only to the fourteenth, the tradition about the trees would have one yew to be three hundred years older than the other, although only differing in girth by one foot.[24]

The poisonous properties of the yew are pretty generally known; in fact, Pliny says that the adjective _toxicus_, poisonous, was once written _taxicus_ from _taxus_, the yew. But in the _English Encyclopædia_ is the mischievous statement--"It is now well known that the fruit of the yew may be eaten with impunity." It is quite true that the pulp surrounding the seed, with its sweet but sickly taste, does not possess the poisonous properties of the foliage and young bark; but the seed itself is deadly, numerous fatal cases having been recorded as the result of swallowing it. On the whole, therefore, it is best to give children nice chocolates on condition that they leave the pretty yew berries alone.

A yew bearing yellow berries originated at Glasnevin about 100 years ago and has been pretty extensively propagated in Ireland, but I have never happened to see it in fruit, though I have a clear recollection of the weird yew avenue at Glasnevin.

The Irish or Florence Court yew, described above, found high favour with garden designers seventy or eighty years ago, owing to its fastigiate habit; but, at best, it is a funereal object, and a more cheerful effect may be obtained by planting Incense Cedar (_Libocedrus decurrens_), Lawson Cypress or Pencil Cedar (_Juniperus virginiana_).

Dr. Prior, in his excellent work on the _Popular Names of British Plants_ (1879), argued confidently that the names "yew" and "ivy" were but different forms of the same word; but the late Professor Skeat declined to admit that there was any connection between them. It is an elusive element in English place-names; Yeovil in Somerset being assigned to a totally different origin. Yeoford, in Devon, has been variously written Uford and Yewford, and may possibly be named from a yew tree, and so may Uffculme in the same county. The Gaelic _iubhar_ (pronounced "yure") is more easily recognised in the suffix -ure or -nure to many Irish and Scottish place-names. For instance, Gortinure, near Londonderry, is written _Gort-an-iubhair_ in the _Annals of the Four Masters_; Glenure in Argyll and Palnure in Galloway are respectively the glen and stream (_pol_) of the yews. The word is more closely disguised in Newry, County Down; but that name is explained in the aforesaid _Annals_ as derived from a yew planted by St. Patrick himself, whence the monastery founded there was called _Iubhar-cinn-trachta_, the yew near high tide-mark. The name was shortened into an-Iubharach, whence the transition was easy to Newry. In Galloway, Palnure is the stream of the yews, and in Ayrshire Dunure is the fort of the yew-tree.

The Cypress and its Kin

Among all the green things that clothe this wonderful globe--that globe which man strives so desperately to unclothe that he may pile upon it leagues of bricks and mortar, defile it with the smoke of myriad furnaces, burrow in it in pursuit of pelf to pay for still more bricks, mortar and furnaces--among these green things, I say, no group bears the badge of clanship more openly than the Cypresses (_Cupressineæ_), a branch of the great order of Conifers. It contains but a single species indigenous to the British Isles, namely, the common juniper (_Juniperus communis_), which cannot aspire to rank among forest trees. Agriculture and mineral industry have extirpated it in many districts where it once abounded; but it is still a characteristic feature in the landscape on some of the English chalk downs, in East Anglia, the Scottish Highlands, western Ireland, and other places where it has been allowed to survive. Near Capenoch, in Dumfriesshire, there remains a broad hillside thickly covered with juniper, which seems to have been the chief growth there from immemorial time.

Tenderly as we should regard the juniper as a legacy from a bygone age, reminiscent of a scenery now no more, it has no qualities to recommend it for planting where it does not naturally grow, but the cypress group to which it belongs contains many foreign species which are capable of being turned to great advantage by British foresters. Although this group has been classified by botanists under a number of distinct genera, whereof the nomenclature has been repeatedly changed in a manner perplexing to ordinary persons, one valuable quality distinguishes all of them, namely, the durability of the timber they produce. It is recorded that the doors of the original basilica of St. Peter at Rome, erected in the fourth century, were of Mediterranean cypress (_C. sempervirens_), and that they were perfectly sound when that building was destroyed to make way for the present church in the sixteenth century.

It is not possible to trace to its source the association of this tree with human mortality. That it was so associated in Pagan civilisation may be seen from Horace's pathetic poem:

Neque harum quas colis arborum Te præter invisas cupressus Ulla brevem dominum sequetur.[25]

The Mediterranean cypress is only hardy in the mildest parts of the United Kingdom, and is therefore not suitable for general planting;[26] but it has many relatives worthy of earnest attention from our foresters. About forty years ago the late Mr. Peter Lawson, of the Goldenacre Nurseries, Edinburgh, told me he expected that the American _Thuja lobbi_ (as it was then called) was destined to surpass all other conifers for British planting. The name of this tree has been repeatedly changed; perhaps it is most commonly known as _Thuja gigantea_; but the Kew authorities have decreed of late that its right name is _T. plicata_. In British Columbia, Oregon, and Washington, where it is of more commercial importance than any other tree, except the Douglas fir, it is known as Red Cedar; which does not help much towards identification, as it is quite distinct from any true cedar. In its native forests it soars to a stature of 200 feet; and, although not brought to this country until 1853, has already reached a height of 100 feet in some places. The most striking example known to me of its behaviour under forest treatment in this country is at Benmore, on the Holy Loch, where about 2,000 acres were planted in successive seasons, 1871-78, and consist now chiefly of this Thuja and Douglas Fir. It is a tree most easily raised from seed, which it produces freely in this country, and it is most easily handled in the nursery. About twelve years ago I raised about 70,000 from 15s. worth of seed; but the bulk of these, having been planted on low-lying, damp ground, succumbed to severe spring frost; while the remainder, planted on higher dry ground, now average 20 feet high. Of the timber, Professor Sargent, the leading authority on North American forestry, reports: "The wood is very valuable; it is light, soft, easily worked, and so durable in contact with the ground or when exposed to the elements, that no one has ever known it long enough to see it decay." Mr. Elwes has given a remarkable photograph of a western hemlock spruce (_Tsuga mertensiana_) at least one hundred years old, growing astride of an enormous trunk of Thuja, which is still quite hard and sound (_Trees of Great Britain_, vol. i., plate 59). I feel convinced that when the fine qualities of this tree are better known, it will largely replace European larch in our woodlands.

Of the true cypresses there are four North American species likely to prove of high value in the United Kingdom; but in regard to them, it is of the highest importance to use only plants raised from seed. Unluckily, they all strike readily from cuttings, and many of us have formed a poor opinion of these trees from being supplied with plants propagated in that manner, which never can develop their true character, but grow into unwieldy, branchy bushes. Lawson's cypress (_Cupressus lawsoniana_) has specially suffered in esteem from this cause; but when reared from seed, which is an easy process, it makes fine forest stock, provided attention is paid to removing superfluous leaders till the young trees are 7 or 8 feet high.

Sargent states that this cypress (which is named after Mr. Peter Lawson, who first raised it from seed in this country in 1854) often reaches a height of 200 feet, with a girth of 36 feet. It agrees thoroughly with British conditions of soil and climate; there are many in various parts of the United Kingdom from 60 to 70 feet high. The timber is of finer quality than that of _Thuja_, and equally durable; but in Professor Sargent's opinion the Nootka Sound cypress (_C. nootkatensis_) is a more valuable tree, though slower in growth and inferior in bulk to the Lawson. While the Lawson cypress agrees with a considerable amount of moisture in the soil, provided the drainage is good, the Nootka cypress seems to do best on soil too poor and dry for the other. Both species are impatient of overhead shade and extreme wind exposure, but both are perfectly hardy and very beautiful when grown in reasonable shelter from storms.

Most rapid in growth of all the cypress tribe is the Monterey cypress (_C. macrocarpa_), but it can only be recommended for mild districts near the sea. It will not stand the frost in most inland districts, but those which I have growing within a mile or two of the coast came unhurt through the long and terrible frost of January and February, 1895, when the mercury fell below zero. This tree is remarkable by reason of its being found native only in two places, both in California, at Monterey, and on the island of Guadalupe. In neither place does it extend much beyond an area of three square miles. In maritime districts of the United Kingdom it grows most vigorously, and ripens seed freely, forming a splendid shelter for other trees. But its branch growth is so luxuriant as to be apt to outstrip the root system; wherefore, to prevent young plants getting swung by sea winds, it is well to shorten the branches till the trees are well established.

The Monterey cypress is of a beautiful bright green, and forms a lovely hedge, for which purpose it may be propagated to any extent by cuttings; but for forest purposes seedlings should invariably be used. Mr. Elwes pronounces the timber "to be so coarse and knotty as compared with that of other cypresses, that it is not likely to be of any economic value"; but that is owing to the manner in which it is usually grown in this country, as isolated specimens, which encourages a rampant growth of side branches. Reared in close canopy, it develops fine clean boles, and Proffessor Sargent reports the timber as being "heavy, hard, strong, very durable, close grained." It is indeed surprising how wood of that weight and quality can be so rapidly produced. In its own country, exposed to the full blast of Pacific gales, it appears never to exceed 60 or 70 feet in height; but there are already in the United Kingdom many taller than that, though the seeds were not brought to this country till 1838. Probably the largest Monterey cypress in England is one at Lamorran in Cornwall, which in 1905 gave a height of 86 feet, and a girth of 12½ feet.

No notice of the _Cupressineæ_, however succinct, would be complete without mention of what is called in North America the incense cedar (_Libocedrus decurrens_), though it is of small account as a timber producer. Of all the group it lends itself most conspicuously to landscape effect, retaining its close, columnar figure quite independently of shears or side shade and distinguished by its rich, velvety, dark green foliage. It was not brought to Britain till 1853, yet there are with us many specimens over 60 feet high. Again let me warn those desiring to see the true character of this fine tree to have nothing to do with plants reared from cuttings.

The same applies to an Asiatic member of this group, namely, the Hinoki cypress (_C. obtusa_), so highly prized by the Japanese for its beautiful, satiny timber. It grows to a height of 100 feet in Japan, where it is much planted, being indigenous in the central and southern parts of the main island. It was brought to England in 1861. I have raised a quantity from seed, and it has proved quite hardy; but its growth is not nearly so free as that of the above-named American species, and it cannot be said that it is likely to be a profitable forest growth with us. It is, however, a very pretty tree in its youth.

The Wellingtonia and the Redwood

In the vegetable world stature and bulk afford no index to longevity. The lofty pine may be but a stripling in years compared with the lowly lichen that clings like paint to the rock at its foot. One may be able to calculate pretty nearly the age of yonder massive oak; yet before the acorn whence it sprang had ripened, the primrose in its shade may have brightened many springtides with its blossoms.

Howbeit there are certain forest growths that go on adding indefinitely to their bulk during such vast spaces of time as almost to stagger the imagination. The man who can contemplate unmoved a tree, still growing vigorously, which was flourishing when Aaron's rod budded before Pharaoh must be of sterner stuff than most of us; yet such trees may be seen, if the German botanist Mayr's estimate be correct of the age of the largest Wellingtonia which he measured. This giant at 13 feet above the ground was 99 feet in circumference, 11 yards in diameter, and showed 4250 rings of annual growth. Even if Sir Joseph Hooker's cautious view be adopted that this species of tree may make two rings of growth in each year, that carries one back to a time centuries before our country became a province of the Roman Empire.

When seeds of this giant tree were first brought to England by Mr. J. D. Matthew in 1853, we Britons named it _Wellingtonia_ in pious memory of the Iron Duke, who had breathed his last in the previous year, and that is still the name it goes by popularly with us. Americans, not less patriotically, called it _Washingtonia_; but we are now bidden by botanists to speak of it as _Sequoia_, a genus of conifers composed of only two species. _Sequoia gigantea_, then, is the mightiest of evergreens, for although the other species, the Redwood (_S. sempervirens_), may exceed it in stature, ranging to a height of 340 feet, it does not build up such an enormous trunk. The largest Redwood measured by Dr. Mayr in 1885 was 308 feet high, but not more than 46 feet in girth at 6½ feet from the ground. Its bole was clear of branches to a height of 230 feet. It may enable readers to realise these vast dimensions if they bear in mind that Messrs. Elwes and Henry have not found a tree of any kind in the British Isles 150 feet high, except the great black Italian poplar at Albury Park, and here and there a larch and spruce reaching to that stature.

Sixty years' experience has proved to British planters that, given suitably generous soil and adequate shelter, the Wellingtonia can be grown in these islands as successfully as in its native district, to wit, the western slopes of the Sierra Nevada of California between the altitudes of 5,000 and 8,500 feet. Indeed, there is no reason to doubt that, in sheltered glens and river valleys, it is capable of attaining in the Old World dimensions as great as those it has reached in the New. Owing to the ease with which they can be raised from seed, Wellingtonias have been very widely distributed through British and Irish counties, and there are already many of 100 feet and upwards in height--an astonishing growth for less than half a century. Thus a Wellingtonia at Fonthill, which is known to have been raised from seed in 1861, was 102 feet high in 1906, with a girth of 17 feet, being then only 45 years old. This tree stands in a favourably sheltered hollow, and so does one of the tallest I have seen in this country, namely, one at Albury Park, which stands on the brink of the lucid Tillingbourne. This tree, planted in 1857, was 54 feet high in 1879, and 97 feet in 1913.

It is obvious that, under ordinary conditions, the Wellingtonia in this country must outstrip all surrounding trees of other sorts, and suffer from wind exposure, unless planted in close forest of its own kind. It must be confessed that he would be ill-advised who should devote good land to such a crop, for the timber of Wellingtonia, though very durable, is weak, coarse, and quite unsaleable in the European market. Unhappily, the inferiority of the timber has not protected the trees from the reckless destruction of the beautiful forest by lumberers. Huge trees have been felled which, in falling, have smashed many others; fires have been frequent, and it is not unlikely that this, the mightiest of all green things of the earth, would have been exterminated ere this, but for protective State legislation. "Big Tree wood," says Professor Jepson, "has extraordinary durability, fallen logs in the forest having remained sound for several centuries. It is used for posts, farm-buildings, shingles, raisin-trays, and for stakes in vineyards. It seems unfortunate that timber of such magnificent proportions cannot be applied to larger purposes than grape-vine stakes."[27] Professor Jepson undertook a census of the remaining forest; from the list published in his _Silva of California_ it appears that there are still scattered groves over an area of some 38,000 acres, although in one of these groves there are only six trees left, while some others contain no more than from 30 to 150. In twenty-two groves, however, the trees were so numerous that they were not counted.

Seeing that British planters must not look for any profit from the timber which is so liberally produced by the Wellingtonia, there remain only its decorative qualities to recommend it. These are considerable, provided right advantage be taken of them. Isolated specimens in sheltered places grow into majestic objects with broadly buttressed trunks and dense green curtains of leafage; but perhaps the most impressive effects are obtained by setting Wellingtonia in formal avenues. Such an avenue was planted by the late Mr. Walter of Bearwood at Wellington College in 1869. This avenue is 1,200 yards long and 25 yards broad; the trees were planted 54 feet apart, and as they now average 80 feet high, and are clothed with verdure from the ground to the summit, the effect is very stately and impressive.

Turning now to the other species in this genus--the Redwood (_Sequoia sempervirens_), we have a tree equalling, or even excelling, the Wellingtonia in height, and greatly its superior both in beauty and economic value. Originally this splendid tree occupied a far more extensive area in California and Oregon than the Wellingtonia; but lumberers have swept away great tracts of forest. In one respect the Redwood resists extermination better than any other of its kin, being almost, if not quite, unique among conifers (the yew being no longer classed as a conifer) in sending up suckers profusely, which secures natural regeneration after the parent trees have been felled.

The Redwood Park in California is a tract of forest 3,800 acres in extent which the State Legislature secured at a price of 250,000 dollars in order to preserve the forest in perpetuity.

"It is," says Mr. Elwes in _The Trees of Great Britain_, "the most impressive of all forests, being remarkable not only for the immense size of the trees, but also for their extraordinary density on the ground. A single acre has yielded 100,000 cubic feet of merchantable timber.[28] ... I saw a stand close to Smith River where the trees were of enormous size and of incredible density on the ground. One tree measured 51 feet in girth."