[Taxus[AB] baccata. Nat. Ord.—TaxaceÆ; Linn.—Dioec. Monad.]

The Berried or Common Yew is indigenous to most parts of Europe, from 58° N. lat. to the Mediterranean Sea; also to the east and west of Asia; and of North America. It is found in every part of Britain, and also in Ireland: on limestone cliffs, and in mountainous woods, in the south of England; on schistose, basaltic, and other rocks, in the north of England: and in Scotland, it is particularly abundant on the north side of the mountains near Loch Lomond. In Ireland, it grows in the crevices of rocks, at an elevation of 1200 feet above the level of the sea; but at that height it assumes the appearance of a low shrub. The Yew is rather a solitary than a social tree; being generally found either alone or with trees of a different species.

The Yew-tree rises from the ground with a short but straight trunk, which sends out, at the height of three or four feet, numerous branches, spreading out nearly horizontally, and forms a head of dense foliage. When full-grown it attains the height of from thirty to fifty feet. The trunk and bark are channelled longitudinally, and are generally rough, from the protruding remains of shoots which have decayed and dropped off. The bark is smooth, thin, of a brown colour, and scales off like the pine. The branches are thickly clad with leaves, which are two-rowed, crowded, naked, linear, entire, very slightly revolute, and about one inch long; very dark green, smooth, and shining above; paler, with a prominent midrib, beneath; terminating in a point. The flowers, which appear in May, are solitary, proceeding from a scaly axillary bud; those of the barren plant are pale brown, and discharge a very abundant yellowish white pollen. The fertile flowers are green, and in form not unlike a young acorn. Fruit drooping, consisting of a sweet, internally glutinous, scarlet berry, open at the top, inclosing a brown oval nut, unconnected with the fleshy part. The kernels of these nuts are not deleterious, as supposed by many, but may be eaten, and they possess a sweet and agreeable nutty flavour.

Of all trees the Yew is the most tonsile. Hence all the indignities it formerly suffered. Everywhere it was cut and metamorphosed into such a variety of deformities, that we could hardly conceive that it had any natural shape, or the power which other trees possess, of hanging carelessly and negligently. Yet it has this power in a very eminent degree; and in a state of nature, except in exposed situations, is perhaps one of the most beautiful evergreens we have. It is now, however, seldom found in a state of perfection. Not ranking among timber-trees, it is thus in a degree unprivileged, and unprotected by forest laws, and has often been made booty of by those who durst not lay violent hands on the oak or the ash. But still, in many parts of the New Forest, some noble specimens of it are left. There is one which was esteemed by Gilpin to be a tree of peculiar beauty. It immediately divides into several massy limbs, each of which, hanging in grand loose foliage, spreads over a large compass of ground, and yet the whole tree forms a close compact body; that is, its boughs are not so separated as to break into distinct parts. It is not equal in size to the Yew at Fotheringal, near Taymouth, in Scotland, which measures fifty-six and a half feet in circumference, nor to many others on record; but is of sufficient size for all the purposes of landscape, and is in point of picturesque beauty probably equal to any of them. It stands near the left bank of Lymington river, as you look towards the sea, between Roydon Farm and Boldre Church.

So long as the taste prevailed for metamorphosing the Yew into obelisks, pyramids, birds, and beasts, it was very commonly planted near houses. Now it is nearly banished from the precincts of our residences and pleasure-grounds; not, it would appear, from any real objection that can be urged either against its form or the effect it produces, but from now considering it as a funereal tree, and associating it with scenes of melancholy and the grave, a feeling doubtless arising from many of our most venerable and celebrated specimens growing in ancient church-yards. The origin of these locations is now considered to have arisen from churches having been erected on the sites of Druidical places of worship in Yew groves, or near old Yew-trees. Hence the planting of Yews in church-yards is a custom of heathen origin, which was ingrafted on Christianity on its introduction into Britain.

The sepulchral character of the Yew is thus referred to by Sir Walter Scott, in Rokeby:—

But here 'twixt rock and river grew
A dismal grove of sable Yew.
With whose sad tints were mingled seen
The blighted fir's sepulchral green.
Seemed that the trees their shadows cast,
The earth that nourished them to blast;
For never knew that swathy grove
The verdant hue that fairies love,
Nor wilding green, nor woodland flower,
Arose within its baleful bower.
The dank and sable earth receives
Its only carpet from the leaves,
That, from the withering branches cast,
Bestrewed the ground with every blast.

And Kirke White, in a fragment written in Wilford church-yard, near Nottingham, on occasion of his recovering from sickness, thus introduces it:—

Here would I wish to sleep.—This is the spot
Which I have long marked out to lay my bones in;
Tired out and wearied with the riotous world,
Beneath this Yew I would be sepulchred.

While in that beautiful and pathetic Elegy of Gray's, which is familiar to every mind in Britain, we read:—

Beneath—————that Yew-tree's shade,
Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap,
Each in his narrow cell for ever laid,
The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.

Poor Carrington has the following lines on the Yew-tree, in a poem entitled My Native Village. The author is buried in the little quiet church-yard of Combehay, a sequestered village at a short distance from Bath. It is situated in a deep and unfrequented valley, where some of the finest and most luxuriant scenery in the west of England may be found. It was chosen, his son tells us, because it is a spot which, when living, he would have loved full well:—

Tree of the days of old—time-honour'd Yew!
Pride of my boyhood—manhood—age, Adieu!
Broad was thy shadow, mighty one, but now
Sits desolation on thy leafless bough!
That huge and far-fam'd trunk, scoop'd out by age,
Will break, full soon, beneath the tempest's rage:
Few are the leaves lone sprinkled o'er thy breast,
There's bleakness, blackness on thy shiver'd crest!
When Spring shall vivify again the earth,
And yon blest vale shall ring with woodland mirth,
Morning, noon, eve,—no bird with wanton glee
Shall pour anew his poetry from thee;
For thou hast lost thy greenness, and he loves
The verdure and companionship of groves—
Sings where the song is loudest, and the spray,
Fresh, fair, and youthful, dances in the ray!
Nor shall returning Spring, o'er storms and strife
Victorious, e'er recal thee into life!
Yet stand thou there—majestic to the last,
And stoop with grandeur to the conquering blast.
Aye, stand thou there—for great in thy decay,
Thou wondrous remnant of a far-gone day,
Thy name, thy might, shall wake in rural song,
Bless'd by the old—respected by the young;
While all unknown, uncar'd for,—oak on oak
Of yon tall grove shall feel the woodman's stroke;
One common, early fate awaits them all,
No sympathizing eye shall mark their fall;
And beautiful in ruin as they lie,
For them shall not be heard one rustic sigh!

Since the use of the bow has been superseded by more deadly instruments of warfare, the cultivation of the Yew is now less common. This, says Evelyn, is to be deplored; for the barrenest ground and coldest of our mountains might be profitably replenished with them. However, in winter, we may still see some of the higher hills in Surrey clad with entire woods of Yew and cypress, for miles around, as we stand on Box Hill; and might, without any violence to the ordinary powers of imagination, fancy ourselves transported into a new or enchanted country. Indeed, Evelyn remarked, in his day, that if in any spot in England,

—'tis here
Eternal spring and summer all the year.

Our venerable author records a Yew-tree, ten yards in girth, which grew in the church-yard of Crowhurst, in the county of Surrey. And another standing in Braburne church-yard, near Scot's Hall, Kent; which being fifty-eight feet eleven inches in circumference, would be near 20 feet in diameter.

There are several remarkable existing church-yard Yews in this country. The tallest, which is at Harlington, near Hounslow, is fifty-six feet in height; another at Martley, Worcestershire, is about twelve yards in circumference; and at Ashill, Somersetshire, there are two very large trees—one fifteen feet round, extending its branches north and south fifty-six feet; the other dividing into three large trunks a little above the ground, but having many of its branches decayed. There are also eleven Yew-trees in the church-yard of Aberystwith, the largest being twenty-four feet, and the smallest eleven feet six inches, in circumference.

There is also a group of Yews at Fountain's Abbey worthy of remark on their own account, and they are also interesting in a historical view. Burton gives the following notice of them:—"At Christmas the Archbishop, being at Ripon (anno 1132), assigned to the monks some lands in the patrimony of St. Peter, about three miles west of that place, for the erecting of a monastery. The spot of ground had never been inhabited, unless by wild beasts, being overgrown with wood and brambles, lying between two steep hills and rocks, covered with wood on all sides, more proper for a retreat for wild beasts than the human species. This was called Skeldale, or the vale of the Skell, a rivulet running through it from the west to the eastward part of it. The Archbishop also gave to them a neighbouring village, called Sutton Richard. The prior of St. Mary's, at York, was chosen abbot by the monks, being the first of this monastery of Fountain's, with whom they withdrew into this uncouth desert, without any house to shelter them in the winter season, or provisions to subsist on; but entirely depending on Divine Providence. There stood a large elm in the midst of the vale, on which they put some thatch or straw, and under that they lay, eat, and prayed, the bishop for a time supplying them with bread, and the rivulet with drink. Part of the day some spent in making wattles, to erect a little oratory, whilst others cleared some ground, to make a little garden. But it is supposed that they soon changed the shelter of the elm for that of seven Yew-trees, growing on the declivity of the hill, on the south side of the Abbey, all standing at this present time, except the largest, which was blown down about the middle of the last century. They are of extraordinary size; the trunk of one of them is twenty-six feet six inches in circumference, at the height of three feet from the ground; and they stand so near each other, as to form a cover almost equal to a thatched roof. Under these trees, we are told by tradition, the monks resided till they built the monastery, which seems to be very probable, when we consider how little a Yew-tree increases in a year, and to what a bulk these are grown. And as the hill-side was covered with wood, which is now cut down, except these trees, it seems as if they were left standing to perpetuate the memory of the monks' habitation there, during the first winter of their residence."

Wordsworth gives us the following animated description of a noted Yew in Lorton Vale; and also of four others—the "fraternal four,"—growing in Borrowdale:—

There is a Yew-tree, pride of Lorton Vale,
Which to this day stands single, in the midst
Of its own darkness, as it stood of yore,
Nor loth to furnish weapons for the bands
Of Omfraville or Percy, ere they marched
To Scotland's heath; or those that crossed the sea,
And drew their sounding bows at Agincourt,
Perhaps at earlier Crecy, or Poictiers.
Of vast circumference and gloom profound
This solitary tree! a living thing
Produced too slowly ever to decay;
Of form and aspect too magnificent
To be destroyed. But worthier still of note
Are these fraternal four of Borrowdale,
Joined in one solemn and capacious grove;
Huge trunks! and each particular trunk a growth
Of intertwisted fibres serpentine
Up-coiling, and inveterately convolved,—
Nor uninformed with phantasy, and looks
That threaten the profane;—a pillared shade
Upon whose grassless floor of red-brown hue,
By sheddings from the pining umbrage tinged
Perennially—beneath whose sable roof
Of boughs, as if for festal purpose, decked
With unrejoicing berries, ghostly shapes
May meet at moontide—Fear and trembling Hope,
Silence and Foresight—Death the Skeleton,
And Time the Shadow,—there to celebrate,
As in a natural temple scattered o'er
With altars undisturbed of mossy stone;
United worship; or in mute repose
To lie, and listen to the mountain flood
Murmuring from Glaramara's inmost caves.

The Yew is easily propagated by sowing the berries as soon as they are ripe (without clearing them from the surrounding pulp), upon a shady bed of fresh soil, covering them over about half an inch with the same earth. Many plants will appear in spring, while others will remain in the ground until autumn, or the spring following. When the plants come up, they should be kept free from weeds, or they will be choked and frequently destroyed. The plants may remain in the original bed two years, and then be removed early in October into beds four or five feet wide, each plant a foot apart from the next, and the same distance in the rows; taking care to lay a little muck over the ground about their roots, and to water them in dry weather. There the plants may remain two or three years, according to their growth, when they should be transplanted into nursery rows at three feet distance, and eighteen inches asunder. This operation must be performed in autumn. After remaining three or four years in the nursery, they may be planted where they are to remain, observing to remove them in autumn where the ground is very dry, and in spring where it is cold and moist. Whether as an evergreen undergrowth or as a timber-tree, the Yew deserves to be more extensively, cultivated than heretofore. As an underwood, it is scarcely inferior to the holly, and only so in failing to produce those sparkling effects of light which distinguish the larger and more highly glazed dark green foliage of that tree: in hardihood it is its equal, and it bears, with the same comparative impunity, the drip and shade of many of our loftier deciduous trees, a quality of great importance where an evergreen wood is desired. The great value and durable properties of its wood ought also to favour its introduction into our mixed plantations, even where profit is the chief object in view, the value of the wood well compensating for the slowness of its growth. Besides, when fostered by the shelter of surrounding trees, it would be drawn up and grow much more rapidly, and with a cleaner stem.

The Yew is not only celebrated for its toughness and elasticity—it is a common saying among the inhabitants of the New Forest, that a post of Yew will outlast a post of iron. The veins of its timber exceed in beauty those of most other trees, and its roots are not surpassed by the ancient citron. The artists in box most gladly employ it; and for the cogs of mill-wheels and axle-trees, there is no wood to be compared to it.

We extract the following table from the ancient laws of Wales, showing the comparative worth of a Yew with other trees:—

A consecrated Yew, its value is a pound.
An oak, its value is six score pence.
A mistletoe branch, its value is three score pence.
Thirty pence is the value of every principal branch in the oak.
Three score pence is the value of every sweet apple-tree.
Thirty pence is the value of a sour apple-tree.
Fifteen pence is the value of a good Yew-tree.
Seven pence halfpenny is the value of a thorn-tree.

FORESTS AND WOODLANDS

OF

GREAT BRITAIN AND IRELAND.

The British isles, like other countries of Europe, were in former times abundantly covered with forests. The first general attack made upon these in England was in 1536, when Henry VIII. confiscated the church lands, and distributed them, together with their woods, among numerous grantees. But it was not until between the civil war which broke out in 1642 and the restoration in 1660, that the royal forests, as well as the woods of the nobility and gentry, were materially diminished. During these few years, however, many extensive forests so completely disappeared, that hardly any memorial was left of them but their name. These two great territorial changes were followed by increased social and national prosperity. Though we have now hardly any forests or woodlands of considerable extent, there are perhaps few countries over which timber is more equably distributed, that is, in those counties where the soil and aspect are favourable to its growth. Woods of small extent, coppices, clumps, and clusters of trees are very generally distributed over the face of the country, which, together with the timber scattered in the hedge-rows, constitute a mass of wood of no inconsiderable importance.

In Herefordshire, Warwickshire, Northamptonshire, and Staffordshire is abundance of fine oak and elm woods. In Buckinghamshire there is much birch and oak, and also fine beech. Sussex, once celebrated for the extent and quality of its oak forests, has yet some good timber; at present its woodlands, including coppice-wood, occupy 175,000 acres. Essex, with 50,000 acres of woodland, has some elms and oaks. Surrey, Hertfordshire, and Derbyshire abound in coppice-woods. In Worcestershire is abundance of oak and elm. In Oxfordshire there are the forests of Wychwood and Stokenchurch, chiefly of beech, with some oak, ash, birch, and aspen. Berkshire contains a part of Windsor forest; and Gloucestershire, the Forest of Dean; so that these three last counties are extensively wooded and with noble trees. Cheshire has few woods of any extent, but the hedge-row timber and coppices are in such abundance as to give the whole country, especially when seen from an elevation, the appearance of a vast forest. Of the remaining counties some have very little wood, and a few are altogether without it; but the want and value of timber have given rise to a great many flourishing plantations. In Wales particularly, there is a rage for planting. In South Wales alone six millions of trees, it is said, are annually planted; if that is the case, nine-tenths of the number must come to nothing, or the whole country would be one entire forest.

Scotland has few forests of large timber, if we except the woods of Inverness-shire and Aberdeenshire. In the former of these counties the natural pine-woods exceed the quantity of this wood growing naturally in all the rest of Britain. In Strathspey alone, there are 15,000 acres of natural firs; and in other parts, the woods are reckoned by miles, not by acres; there are also oak woods and extensive tracts of birch. In Aberdeenshire, in the higher divisions of Mar, there are 100 square miles of wood and plantations. The pines of Braemar are magnificent in size, and are of the finest quality. Argyleshire, Dumbartonshire, and Stirlingshire have many thousands of acres of coppice-wood, and, with a very few exceptions, the remaining counties have many, and some very extensive plantations.

Ireland has every appearance of having been once covered with wood, but at the present day, timber is exceedingly scarce in that country, there being no woods, if we except a portion along the sea-coast of Wicklow, the borders of the Lake Gilly, in Sligo, some remains of an ancient forest in Galway, and some small woods round Lough Lene, in the county of Kerry. The lakes of Westmeath have also some wooded islands. There are extensive plantations in Waterford, and a few natural woods, of small extent, in Cavan and Down; but Fermanagh is the best-wooded part of Ireland. The want of wood, however, in this country, as far as it is employed for fuel, is little felt, in consequence of its extensive bogs, which furnish an almost inexhaustible quantity of peat.

Upon the whole then, though Great Britain and Ireland do not now possess any extensive forests, still there is a considerable quantity of timber, and the extent of new plantations seems to promise that we shall never be wholly destitute of so essential an article as wood. According to M'Culloch, there is annually cut down in Great Britain and Ireland, timber to the amount of £2,000,000.

In this country, even in the time of the Saxons, the forests or tracts, more or less covered with wood, were generally public or crown lands, in which the king was accustomed to take the diversion of hunting, and that hunting from which all other persons were prohibited. This distinctly appears from the laws of king Canute, enacted in 1016. But the prohibition against hunting in these, was merely a protection thrown around the property of the crown of the same kind with that afforded to all other lauded estates, in regard to which, universally, the law was, that every proprietor might hunt in his own woods or fields, but that no other person might do so without his leave. On the establishment, however, of the Norman government, it has generally been supposed that the property of all the animals of chase throughout the kingdom was held to be vested in the crown, and no person, without the express licence of the crown, was allowed to hunt even upon his own estate. But this, after all, is rather a conjecture; and, perhaps, all that we are absolutely entitled to affirm, from the evidence we possess on the subject, is, that after the Norman conquest the royal forests were guarded with much greater strictness than before; that possibly in some cases their bounds were enlarged; that trespasses upon them were punished with much greater severity; and, finally, that there was established a new system of laws and of courts for their administration.

In the language of the law, forests and chases differ from parks in not being enclosed by walls or palings, but only encompassed by metes and bounds; and a chase differs from a forest, both in being of much smaller extent (so that there are some chases within forests) and in its capability of being held by a subject, whereas a forest can only be in the hands of the Crown. But the material distinction is, or rather was, that forests alone were subject to the forest laws so long as they subsisted. Every forest, however, was also a chase. A forest is defined by Manwood, the great authority on the forest laws, as being "a certain territory or circuit of woody grounds and pastures, known in its bounds, and privileged, for the peaceable being and abiding of wild beasts, and fowls of forest, chase, and warren, to be under the king's protection for his princely delight; replenished with beasts of venery or chase, and great coverts of vert for succour of the said beasts; for preservation whereof there are particular laws, privileges, and officers belonging thereunto." The beasts of park or chase, according to Coke, are properly the buck, the doe, the fox, the marten, and the roe; but the term, in a wider sense, comprehends all the beasts of the forest. Beasts of warren are such as hares, conies, and roes; fowls of warren, such as the partridge, quail, rail, pheasant, woodcock, mallard, heron, &c.

The national woodlands of England, for many centuries, consisted of 49 forests, 13 chases, and 781 parks; some of them being of great extent, as the New Forest in Hampshire, which still contains about 66,291 acres, and extends over a district of 20 miles from north-east to south-west, and about 15 miles from east to west. Recent parliamentary inquiry has so fully established long-continued mismanagement, embezzlement of timber, and encroachments upon the national forests and parks, that a considerable portion of what remains will probably be shortly sold or leased for general cultivation. The principal remaining national forests and parks are:—

MISCELLANEOUS INDEX.

*** The Names of the Trees described are given at page vii and viii.

GLASGOW:
W. G. BLACKIE AND CO., PRINTERS,
VILLAFIELD.