Part 4

[C] _Generic characters. Barren_ flowers in a roundish catkin. Perianth campanulate, divided into 5 or 6 segments. Stamens 8 to 15. _Fertile_ flowers, 2 together, within a 4-lobed prickly involucre. Stigma 3. Ovaries 3-cornered and 3-celled. Nut by abortion 1 or 2-seeded. Named from [Greek: phagô], to eat.

The Common Beech (_F. sylvática_), is supposed to be indigenous to England, but not to Scotland or Ireland. According to Evelyn, it is a beautiful as well as valuable tree, growing generally to a greater stature than the Ash: though Gilpin observes, that it does not deserve to be ranked among timber-trees; its wood being of a soft, spongy nature, sappy, and alluring to the worm. Neither will Gilpin allow that, in point of picturesque beauty, it should rank much higher than in point of utility. Its skeleton, compared with that of the oak, the ash, or the elm, he says, is very deficient; yet its trunk is often highly picturesque, being frequently studded with bold knobs and projections, and having sometimes a sort of irregular fluting about it, which is very characteristic. It has another peculiarity, also, which is somewhat pleasing--that of a number of stems arising from the root. The bark, too, wears often a pleasant hue. It is naturally of a dingy olive; but it is always overspread, in patches, with a variety of mosses and lichens, which are commonly of a lighter tint in the upper parts, and of a deep velvet green towards the root. Its smoothness, also, contrasts agreeably with these rougher appendages. No bark tempts the lover so much to make it the depository of his mistress's name. In days of yore, it seems to have commonly served as the lover's tablet. In Dryden's translation of Virgil's _Eclogues_, we find the following:--

Or shall I rather the sad verse repeat, Which on the Beech's bark I lately writ-- I writ, and sang betwixt.

There seems to have been connected with this custom the curious idea, that as the tree increased in growth, so would the words, and also the hopes expressed thereon:

The rind of every plant her name shall know, And as the rind extends the love shall grow.

Our own Thomson, too, narrates that Musidora carved, on the soft bark of a Beech-tree, the confession of her attachment to Damon:

At length, a tender calm, Hushed, by degrees, the tumult of her soul; And on the spreading Beech, that o'er the stream Incumbent hung, she, with the sylvan pen Of rural lovers, this confession carved, Which soon her Damon kissed with weeping joy.

The branches of the Beech are fantastically wreathed and disproportioned, twining awkwardly among one another, and running often into long unvaried lines, without any of that strength and firmness which we admire in the oak, or of that easy simplicity which pleases in the ash: in short, we rarely see a Beech well ramified. In full leaf, it is unequally pleasing; it has the appearance of an overgrown bush. Virgil, indeed, was right in choosing the Beech for its shade. No tree forms so complete a roof. If you wish either for shade or shelter, you will find it best

Beneath the shade which Beechen boughs diffuse.

Its bushiness imparts a great heaviness to the tree, which is always a deformity:

A gloomy grove of Beech.

Sometimes a light branch issues from a heavy mass; and though these are often beautiful in themselves, they are seldom in harmony with the tree. They distinguish, however, its character, which will be best seen by comparing it with the elm. The latter has a rounder, the former a more pointed foliage; but the elm is always in harmony with itself. Gilpin can see few beauties in the Beech; but, in conclusion, he admits that it sometimes has its beauty, and often its use. In distance, it preserves the depth of the forest, and, even on the spot, in contrast, it is frequently a choice accompaniment. In the corner of a landscape, too, when a thick heavy tree is wanted, or a part of one, at least, which is often necessary, nothing answers the purpose like the Beech.

If we would really appreciate the beauty of this tree, we should walk in a wood of them. In its juvenility, contrary to the generality of trees, the Beech is decidedly the most pleasing, not having acquired that heaviness which Gilpin so loudly complains of. A light, airy young Beech, with its spiry branches hanging in easy forms, is generally beautiful. And, occasionally, the forest Beech, in a dry hungry soil, preserves the lightness of youth in the maturity of age.

We must, however, mention its autumnal hues, which are often beautiful. Sometimes it is dressed in modest brown, but commonly in glowing orange; and in both dresses its harmony with the grove is pleasing. About the end of September, when the leaf begins to change, it makes a happy contrast with the oak, whose foliage is yet verdant. Some of the finest oppositions of tint which, perhaps, the forest can furnish, arise from the union of oak and Beech. We often see a wonderful effect from this combination; and yet, accommodating as its leaf is in landscape, on handling, it feels as if it were fabricated with metallic rigour.

The leaves are of a pleasant green, and many of them remain on the branches during winter. In France and Switzerland, when dried, they are very commonly used for beds, or, instead of straw, for mattresses. Its fruit consists of "two nuts joined at the base, and covered with an almost globular involucre, which has soft spines on the outside, but within is delicately smooth and silky." Beech mast, as it is called, was formerly used for fattening swine and deer. It affords also a sweet oil, which the poor in France are said to eat most willingly.

--The Beech, of oily nuts Prolific.

The Beech abounds especially along the great ridge of chalk-hills which passes from Dorsetshire through Wiltshire, Hampshire, Surrey, Sussex, and Kent; trenching out into Berkshire, Buckinghamshire, and Hertfordshire; and it is also found on the Stroudwater and Cotswold hills in Gloucestershire, and on the banks of the Wye in Herefordshire and Monmouthshire. It is particularly abundant in Buckinghamshire, where it forms extensive forests of great magnificence and beauty. It is seldom found mixed with other trees, even when they are coeval with it in point of age. It is rarely found in soil that is not more or less calcareous; and it most commonly abounds on chalk. The finest trees in England are said to grow in Hampshire; and there is a curious legend respecting those in the forest of St. Leonard, in that county. This forest, which was the abode of St. Leonard, abounds in noble Beech-trees; and the saint was particularly fond of reposing under their shade; but, when he did so, he was annoyed during the day by vipers, and at night by the singing of the nightingale. Accordingly, he prayed that they might be removed; and such was the efficacy of his prayers, that since his time, in this forest,

"The viper has ne'er been known to sting, Or the nightingale e'er heard to sing."

The wood of this tree, from its softness, is easy of being worked, and is consequently a favourite with the turner. Beechen bowls, curiously carved, were highly prized by the ancient shepherds. Indeed, we learn that their use was almost universal:

Hence, in the world's best years, the humble shed Was happily and fully furnished: Beech made their chests, their beds, and the joined stools; Beech made the board, the platters, and the bowls.

And it is still used for dishes, trays, trenchers, &c. And Dodsley informs us that it was used for the sounding-boards of musical instruments.

--The soft Beech And close-grained box employ the turner's wheel; And with a thousand implements supply Mechanic skill.

We cannot willingly conclude this article without introducing Wordsworth's beautiful description of a solitary Beech-tree, which stood within "a stately fir-grove," where he was not loth

To sympathize with vulgar coppice birds, That, for protection from the nipping blast, Thither repaired. A single Beech-tree grew Within this grove of firs, and in the fork Of that one Beech appeared a thrush's nest: A last year's nest, conspicuously built At such small elevation from the ground, As gave sure sign that they who in that house Of nature and of love had made their home, Amid the fir-trees all the summer long, Dwelt in a tranquil spot.

The principal varieties of the Beech are:--

1. _Purpurea_, the purple Beech, which has the buds and young shoots of a rose colour; the leaves, when half developed, of a cherry red, and of so dark a purple, when fully matured, as to appear almost black.

2. _Foliis variegatis_, having the leaves variegated with white and yellow, interspersed with some streaks of red and purple.

3. _Pendulata_, the weeping Beech, having the branches beautifully pendent.

THE BIRCH-TREE.

[_Betula._[D] Nat. Ord.--_Amentiferæ_; Linn.--_Monoec. Poly._]

[D] _Generic characters._ _Barren_ flowers in a cylindrical catkin with ternate scales. Perianth none. Stamens 10 or 12. _Fertile_ flowers in an oblong catkin, with 3-lobed, 3-flowered scales. Perianth none. Styles 2, filiform. Emit an oblong nut, deciduous, winged, 1-celled. Kernel solitary.

--most beautiful Of forest trees, the lady of the woods.

Coleridge.

The common Birch (_B. alba_) is a native of the colder regions of Europe and Asia, being found from Iceland to Mount Etna; in Siberia, as far as the Altaic mountains; and also in the Himalayas; but not in Africa. It is known, at first sight, by the silvery whiteness of its bark, the comparative smallness of its leaves, and the lightness and airiness of its whole appearance. It is admirably calculated to diversify the scene, forming a pleasing variety among other trees, either in summer or winter. In summer it is covered over with beautiful small leaves, and the stem being generally marked with brown, yellow, and silvery touches of a peculiarly picturesque character, as they are characteristic objects of imitation for the pencil, forms an agreeable contrast with the dark green hue of the foliage, as it is waved to and fro by every breath of air. Only the stem and larger branches, however, have this varied colouring: the spray is of a deep brown, which is the colour, too, of the larger branches, where the external rind is peeled off. As the tree grows old, its bark becomes rough and furrowed; it loses all its varied tints, and assumes a uniform ferruginous hue.

The Birch is altogether raised from roots or suckers, which, being planted at intervals of four or five feet, in small twigs, will speedily rise to trees, provided the soil suit them, and this cannot well be too barren or spongy; for it will thrive in dry and wet, sandy or stony places, in marshes or bogs.

In ancient times, the Birch, whose timber is almost worthless, according to Evelyn, afforded the Old English warriors arrows, bolts, and shafts; and in modern times, its charcoal forms a principal ingredient in the manufacture of gunpowder. In spring, the Birch abounds in juices, and from these the rustic housewife makes an agreeable and wholesome wine: as Warton sings:

And though she boasts no charm divine, Yet she can carve, and make Birch wine.

Pomona's bard says, also, that

--Even afflictive Birch, Cursed by unlettered idle youth, distils A limpid current from her wounded bark, Profuse of nursing sap.

We are informed that a Birch-tree has been known to yield, in the course of the season, a quantity of sap equal to its own weight. It is obtained by inserting, in the early part of spring, a fosset made of an elder stick, with the pith taken out; and setting vessels, or hanging bladders, to receive the liquor. The sooner it is boiled the better; so that, in order to procure a sufficient quantity in a short time, a number of trees should be bored on the same day, and two or three fossets inserted in each of the larger trees. Sugar is now commonly used to sweeten it, in the proportion of from two to four pounds to each gallon of liquor. This is allowed to simmer so long as any scum rises, which must be cleared as fast as it appears. It is then poured into a tub to cool, after which it is turned into a cask, and bunged up when it has done working; and is ready to be drunk when a year old.

As before remarked, the timber of the Birch is of little value; though in the Highlands, where pine is not to be had, it is used for all purposes. Its stems form the rafters of cabins; "wattles of the boughs are the walls and the door; and even the chests and boxes are of this rude basket-work."

Light and strong canoes were formerly made of this timber in Britain, and also in other parts of Europe; and are even now in the northern parts of America. It also makes good fuel; and in Lancashire great quantities of besoms are made for exportation from the slender twigs. The bark is used in Russia and Poland for the covering of houses, instead of slates or tiles; and anciently the inner white cuticle and silken bark were used for writing-paper. Coleridge describes

A curious picture, with a master's haste Sketched on a strip of pinky-silver skin Peeled from the Birchen bark.

There is no part of this tree, however, that is not useful for some purpose or other. Even its leaves are used by the Finland women, in forming a soft elastic couch for the cradle of infancy.

Gilpin particularly notes a beautiful variety of the White Birch, _B. pendula_, sometimes called the Lady Birch, or the Weeping Birch. Its spray being slenderer and longer than the common sort, forms an elegant pensile foliage, like the weeping willow, and, like it, is put in motion by the smallest breeze. When agitated, it is well adapted to characterize a storm, or to perform any office in landscape which is expected from the weeping willow. This is agreeably described in Wilson's Isle of Palms:

--on the green slope Of a romantic glade we sate us down, Amid the fragrance of the yellow broom, While o'er our heads the Weeping Birch-tree streamed Its branches, arching like a fountain shower.

"A Weeping Birch, at Balloghie, in the parish of Birse, in Aberdeenshire, in 1792, measured five feet in circumference; but it carried nearly this degree of thickness, with a clear stem, up to the height of about fifty feet, and it was judged to be about one hundred feet high."

THE CEDAR OF LEBANON.

[_Cedrus Libani._ Nat. Ord.--_Coniferæ_; Linn.--_Pinus C. Monoec. Monand.]_

On high the Cedar Stoops, like a monarch to his people bending, And casts his sweets around him.

Barry Cornwall.

The Cedar of Lebanon is a majestic evergreen tree, generally from fifty to eighty feet in height, extending wide its boughs and branches; and its sturdy arms grow in time so weighty, as frequently to bend the very stem and main shaft. Phillips observes, that "this noble tree has a dignity and a general striking character of growth so peculiar to itself, that no other tree can possibly be mistaken for it. It is instantly recognized by its wide-extending branches, that incline their extremities downwards, exhibiting a most beautiful upper surface, like so many verdant banks, which, when agitated by the wind, play in the most graceful manner, forming one of the most elegant, as well as one of the most noble, objects of the vegetable kingdom."

The Cedar of Lebanon was formerly supposed to grow nowhere but on that mountain; but it was discovered, in 1832, on several mountains of the same group, and the probability is, that it extends over the whole of the Tauri mountains. It has also been discovered on the Atlas range of northern Africa.

It is generally spoken of as a lofty tree. Milton, in speaking of it, says,

Insuperable height of loftiest shade.

And Rowe, in his Lucan, alludes to the "tall Cedar's head;" and Spenser speaks of the "Cedar tall;" and Churchill sings,

The Cedar, whose top mates the highest cloud.

Notwithstanding these poetical authorities for the loftiness of the Cedar, we are assured by Evelyn, and others, that it is not lofty, but is rather remarkable for its wide-spreading branches. In Prior's Solomon, we read of

The spreading Cedar that an age had stood, Supreme of trees, and mistress of the wood, Cut down and carved, my shining roof adorns, And Lebanon his ruined honour mourns.

Mason describes it as far-spreading:

--Cedars here, Coeval with the sky-crowned mountain's self, Spread wide their giant arms.

The prophet Ezekiel has given us the fullest description of the Cedar: "Behold the Assyrian was a Cedar in Lebanon, with fair branches, and with a shadowing shroud, and of a high stature; and his top was among the thick boughs. His boughs were multiplied, and his branches became long. The fir-trees were not like his boughs, nor the chestnut-trees like his branches, nor any tree in the garden of God like unto him in beauty."

In this description, two of the principal characteristics of the Cedar are marked.

The first is, the multiplicity and length of his branches. Few trees divide so many fair branches from the main stem, or spread over so large a compass of ground. His boughs are multiplied, as Ezekiel says, and his branches become long, which David calls spreading abroad.

The second characteristic is his shadowing shroud. No tree in the forest is more remarkable than the Cedar for its close-woven leafy canopy. Ezekiel's Cedar is marked as a tree of full and perfect growth, from the circumstance of its top being among the thick boughs. Almost every young tree, and particularly every young Cedar, has what is called a leading branch or two, which continue spiring above the rest till the tree has attained its full size; then the tree becomes, in the language of the nurseryman, clump-headed: but, in the language of eastern sublimity its top is among the thick boughs; that is, no distinction of any spiry head, or leading branch, appears; the head and the branches are all mixed together. This is generally, in all trees, the state in which they are most perfect and most beautiful. Such is the grandeur and form of the Cedar of Lebanon. Its mantling foliage, or shadowing shroud, as Ezekiel calls it, is its greatest beauty, which arises from the horizontal growth of its branches forming a kind of sweeping, irregular penthouse. And when to the idea of beauty that of strength is added, by the pyramidal form of the stem, and the robustness of the limbs, the tree is complete in all its beauty and majesty. In these climates, indeed, we cannot expect to see the Cedar in such perfection. The forest of Lebanon is, perhaps, the only part of the world where its growth is perfect; yet we may, in some degree, conceive its beauty and majesty, from the paltry resemblances of it at this distance from its native soil. In its youth, it is often with us a vigorous thriving plant; and if the leading branch is not bound to a pole (as many people deform their Cedars), but left to take its natural course, and guide the stem after it in some irregular waving line, it is often an object of great beauty. But, in its maturer age, the beauty of the English Cedar is generally gone; it becomes shrivelled, deformed, and stunted; its body increases, but its limbs shrink and wither. Thus it never gives us its two leading qualities together. In its youth, we have some idea of its beauty, without its strength; and in its advanced age, we have some idea of its strength, without its beauty. The imagination, therefore, by joining together the two different periods of its age in this climate, may form some conception of the grandeur of the Cedar in its own climate, where its strength and beauty are united.

The following particular botanical description of this celebrated tree, is given by Loudon in his _Arboretum_:--