species in Part I., where it seemed more advantageous to the reader to
include them with British species of the same genus; those now to be
dealt with are in all cases members of genera not represented in our
native Flora.
The Plane (_Platanus orientalis_).
In spite of the fact that the Plane is an exotic of comparatively recent
introduction, it seems in a fair way of being associated in the future
with London. It has taken with great kindness to London life, in spite
of the drawbacks of smoke, fog, flagstones, and asphalt. Its leaves get
thickly coated with soot, which also turns its light-grey bark to black;
but as the upper surface of the leaves is smooth and firm, a shower of
rain washes them clean, and the rigid outer layer of bark is thrown off
by the expansion of the softer bark beneath. This is not thrown off all
at once, but in large and small flakes, which leave a smooth yellow
patch behind, temporarily free from soot contamination. A variety of
trees has been tried for street-planting, but none has stood the trying
conditions of London so well as the Plane, and therefore before many
years the capital will be the city of Planes.
[Illustration: _Pl. 134._ Plane Tree--summer.]
[Illustration: _Pl. 135._ Bole of Plane Tree.]
[Illustration: Oriental Plane.]
Two species are recognized--the Oriental Plane (_Platanus orientalis_)
and the Western Plane (_P. occidentalis_); but it would probably be more
accurate to regard them as geographical varieties of one species, the
points in which they differ being small and not very important. Thus the
leaves of the Oriental Plane are described as being so much more deeply
lobed than those of the Western Plane that the former are botanically
described as palmate; but the two forms of leaf may often be found on
the same individual. The Western Plane, too, does not shed its bark in
small flakes like the Oriental Plane, but in large sheets.
Planes normally rise to a height of something between seventy and ninety
feet, and the trunk attains a circumference of from nine to twelve feet;
but there is a record of a portly Plane whose waist measurement was
forty feet! Many persons imagine because the leaves of the Plane
resemble those of the Sycamore that the two are closely related; but
this is not so, and a comparison of the flowers and fruit will show that
they are not. The catkins of the Plane take the form of balls, in which
male _or_ female flowers are pressed together; and the fruits, instead
of being winged samaras, are the rough balls that so closely resemble an
old-fashioned form of button, that the tree is known in some parts of
the United States as the Button-wood. (It is also known there as
Sycamore and Cotton-tree.)
The Plane is supposed to have got its name _Platanus_ from the Greek
word _platus_ (broad), in double allusion to the broad leaves and the
ample shadow which the tree throws. These leaves are five-lobed, and, as
already indicated, those of the Oriental species are much more deeply
cut. Further distinction is found in the colour of the petiole or
leaf-stalk, which is green in _P. orientalis_, and purplish-red in _P.
occidentalis_, and in the larger and smoother seed-buttons of the
latter. Instead of the leaves being attached to the stem in pairs, as we
saw in the Sycamore, those of the Plane are alternate--that is to say,
leaf number two of a series will be halfway between one and three, but
on the opposite side of the shoot.
The outline of the tree is not so regular as in most others, the leaves
being gathered in heavy masses, with broad spaces between, rather than
equally distributed over the head. This is, of course, due to the
freedom with which the crooked arms are flung about. The pale-brown wood
is fine-grained, tough, and hard, and is extensively used by
pianoforte-makers, coach-builders, and cabinet-makers, but is not
highly esteemed for other purposes to which timber is put in this
country.
The Oriental Plane is popularly supposed to have been introduced to
England from the Levant by Francis Bacon, but if Loudon's statement that
it was "in British gardens before 1548" rests on good evidence, Bacon's
claim is dismissed, for _he_ was not "introduced" until 1561. It was
nearly a hundred years later (1640) that the Occidental Plane was first
brought from Virginia by the younger Tradescant, and planted in that
remarkable garden of his father's in South Lambeth Road. The form that
has done so well in London, and of which many fine examples are to be
seen in the parks and squares, is a variety of the Oriental Plane, with
leaves less deeply divided than those of the type, and therefore more
nearly approaching the Occidental Plane in this respect. It is
distinguished by the name of the Maple-leaved Plane (_Platanus
orientalis_, var. _acerifolia_). It is this variety we have chosen as
the subject for our photograph.
[Illustration: _Pl. 136._ Plane Tree--winter.]
The Walnut (_Juglans regia_).
In the Golden Age, when man lived happily on a handful of acorns, the
gods fed upon walnuts, and so their name was _Jovis glans_--the nuts of
Jupiter--since contracted into _Juglans_. Those who delight in obvious
interpretations by appealing to the modern meanings of words similar in
construction may be pardoned for supposing that Walnut-trees were
formerly trained against walls; but, like many other obvious
interpretations, this is wide of the mark. Some have gone back to the
Anglo-Saxons for help, and though the result arrived at is in all
probability the correct one, it is almost certain that the Anglo-Saxons
knew nothing of the matter, and would scarcely trouble to give a name to
something they had never seen. The Walnut is a native of the Himalayas,
the Hindu Kuh, Persia, Lebanon, and Asia Minor to Greece. The learned
Roman, Varro, who was born B.C. 116, and died B.C. 28, mentions it as
existing in Italy in his day; and Pliny tells us it was brought thence
from Persia. The date of its introduction to Britain is usually set down
as about the middle of the sixteenth century, but it was probably at
least a century earlier, for Gerarde, writing at the close of the
sixteenth century, describes it as a tree commonly to be seen in
orchards, and in fields near the highways, where a very new importation
was not likely to be found. But to return to the name: there can be
little doubt that it is a contraction of W[:a]lsh-nut (in modern spelling,
Welsh-nut), meaning foreign. This is German, and while the modern sons
of the Vaterland write it Wallnuss (occasionally W[:a]lshenuss), the Dutch
form is Wallnoot. That this is the true derivation is made pretty
certain by Gerarde, who calls it "Walnut, and of some Walsh-nut."
That the new importation was fully appreciated in Europe for its fruit
may be judged by the extent to which its cultivation had spread in
Evelyn's day, for he tells us the trees abounded in Burgundy, where they
stood in the midst of goodly wheat-lands. He says: "In several places
betwixt Hanau and Frankfort in Germany no young farmer is permitted to
marry a wife till he bring proof that he hath planted and is a father of
such a stated number of [Walnut] trees, and the law is inviolably
observed to this day, for the extraordinary benefit the tree affords the
inhabitants."
[Illustration: _Pl. 137._ Walnut--summer.]
The Walnut is a handsome tree, growing to a height of forty to sixty
feet, with a bole twenty feet or more in circumference, and a huge
spreading head. The bark is of a cool grey colour, smooth when young,
but as the tree matures deep longitudinal furrows form, and it becomes
very rugged. The twisted branches take a direction more upward than
horizontal, but in early summer they are almost completely hidden by the
masses of large and handsome leaves of warm green colour and spicy
aroma. I once rejoiced in the occupation of a garden that held two
Walnut-trees, and though they had not attained to the fruiting age,
their possession was a delight to me; but then I am one of those who
enjoy their fragrance, which is unbearable to some persons. The large
leaves are formed after the fashion of the Ash-leaf--broken up into a
variable number of lance-shaped leaflets with scarcely perceptible
teeth.
[Illustration: Walnut. A, female flowers; B, male flowers.]
The flowering of the Walnut is much on the plan of the Oak and the
Hazel, the sexes being in different flowers, but borne by one tree; the
males forming a long drooping catkin of slender cylindrical form, the
females being solitary, or a few grouped at the end of a shoot.
Separated from the catkin, the males will each be seen to consist of a
calyx of five greenish scales, enclosing a large number of stamens. The
calyx of the female closely invests the ovary, which has two or three
fleshy stigmas. The flowering takes place in early spring, before the
leaf-buds have burst. The fruit is a plum-like drupe, only the
enveloping green flesh becomes brown, and, splitting irregularly,
discloses the "stone," which in this species takes the form of a hard
but thin-shelled nut--the well-known Walnut, with its wrinkled kernel of
crisp white flesh, from which a fine oil is obtained. The ripening of
these nuts--which is accomplished by the beginning of October--can only
be relied upon in the southern half of Britain, and even there the crop
is often spoiled by late frosts in spring. Its chief value in Europe is
as a fruit-tree, though the light but tough wood is much esteemed for
the manufacture of furniture. Owing to its rapid growth, the grain is
coarse, but the dark-brown colour is esteemed, especially as it is
relieved by streaks and veins of lighter tints and black. It is easily
worked, and bears a high polish. The wood of young trees is white,
gradually deepening to brown as maturity is approached. All the juices
of the tree, whether from wood, bark, leaves, or green fruit, are rich
in the brown pigment to which the hue of the timber is due. The combined
lightness and toughness of the wood led to its adoption as the favourite
material for making the stocks of guns and rifles. It is said that so
great was the demand for this purpose during the Peninsular War, that a
single Walnut-tree realized [L]600 for its timber, and this created a boom
that led to the cutting down of all our finest Walnut-trees. Some of
these were doubtless the very trees referred to by Evelyn, who tells us
the Walnut was extensively planted at Leatherhead in Surrey, also at
Cassaulton (Carshalton) and Godstone in the same county, where the
rambler may come across fine Walnut-trees to this day, and
occasionally to young ones growing wild in hedgerows and wastes.
[Illustration: _Pl. 138._ Fruit of Walnut.]
[Illustration: _Pl. 139._ Walnut--winter.]
The old doggerel adage, "A dog and a wife and a walnut-tree, the more
they are beaten the better they be," has reference to the manner of
harvesting the ripe fruit. Evelyn says: "In Italy they arm the tops of
long poles with nails and iron for the purpose [of loosening the fruit],
and believe the beating improves the tree; which I no more believe than
I do that discipline would reform a shrew." He expresses no opinion on
the question of beating dogs.
Sweet Chestnut (_Castanea sativa_).
Until about the middle of the last century the Chestnut was generally
regarded as a genuine native of these islands. It is true that botanists
felt that so large and longevous a tree, if native, should be found in
the natural forests of this country, or even forming pure forest. These
things they did not find, but, on the other hand, they were shown beams
in ancient buildings, including Westminster Abbey, which were believed
to be Chestnut-wood, and this evidence seemed to point to the fact that
Chestnut timber was grown much more plentifully in this country at the
period when these old buildings were erected. Dr. Lindley, however, set
the matter at rest by examination of the reputed Chestnut beams in the
roof of Westminster Abbey, and proved that they were of Durmast Oak. A
similar examination of the timbers of the old Louvre in Paris, which
were also reputed to be Chestnut, gave a similar result. A comparison of
sections across the grain of Oak and Chestnut allows of no possibility
of mistake, and it is now known that whilst the wood of young Chestnuts
is tough and durable, that from old trees is brittle and comparatively
worthless, except for firewood, which is exactly the opposite of
Oak-wood. It is now generally agreed that its real home is in Asia Minor
and Greece, whence it was introduced to Italy in very remote times, and
has since spread over most of temperate Europe, its seeds ripening and
sowing themselves wherever the vine flourishes. We appear to be indebted
to our friends the Romans for its introduction to Britain, who no doubt
hoped to utilize the fruit for food, as at home--a hope that must have
been disappointed, for its crops, even in the South of England, are very
fitful, and the nuts quite small.
[Illustration: _Pl. 140._ Sweet Chestnut--summer.]
[Illustration: _Pl. 141._ Bole of Sweet Chestnut.]
In suitable situations the Chestnut is of larger proportions and greater
length of life even than the Oak. In the South of England it will attain
a height of from sixty to eighty feet in fifty or sixty years, and if
growing in deep porous loam, free from carbonate of lime, and sheltered
from strong winds and frosts, it builds up an erect massive column.
Hamerton has said of such a tree: "His expression is that of sturdy
strength; his trunk and limbs are built, not like those of Apollo, but
like the trunk and limbs of Hercules." Under less suitable conditions
the undivided trunk is little more than ten feet long; then it divides
off into several huge limbs, and so the general character of the tree is
altered, and it presents much the appearance of having been pollarded.
The branches have a horizontal and downward habit of growth, the
extremities of the lowest ones often being but little above the earth.
The fine elliptical leaves are nine or ten inches in length, of a rich
green, that is enhanced by the polished surface, which "brings up" the
colour. Their edges are cut into long pointed teeth. Towards autumn they
pale to light yellow, and then deepen into gold on their way to the
final brown of the fallen leaf, which, by the way, is a great enricher
of the soil where the Chestnut is grown.
[Illustration: Sweet Chestnut. A, fruit.]
The flowers, though individually small and inconspicuous, are rather
striking, from their association in cylindrical yellow catkins, about
six inches long, which hang from the axils of the leaves. The upper part
of this catkin consists of male flowers, each with a number of
stamens enclosed in a perianth or calyx of five or six green leaves. The
female flowers, on the lower part of the catkin, are two or three
together, in a prickly four-lobed "cupule," or involucre, and consist
each of a calyx closely investing a tapering ovary, whose summit bears
from five to eight radiating stigmas, the number corresponding with the
cells into which the ovary is divided. Each cell contains two seed-eggs,
but as a rule only one in each flower develops. As development of the
ovary and seeds progresses, the cupule also grows, and ultimately
entirely surrounds the cluster with the hedgehog-like coat in which the
nuts are contained when ripe. Then it splits open and discloses the two
or three glossy brown nuts. The Chestnut is in flower from May to July,
and the nuts drop in October. They form an important article of food in
South Europe, where they are produced in abundance, and there can be
little doubt that the importers of the tree to this country believed it
would prove equally valuable here. Evelyn had this in mind when he
recommended the nut as "a lusty and masculine food for rustics at all
times, and of better nourishment for husbandmen than cole and rusty
bacon." Well, there is plenty of Chestnut grown around Evelyn's estate
at Wootton to-day, but it is chiefly as coppice, to provide hop-poles,
and hoops for barrels, for which purpose the long straight shoots are
split in two. Grown as coppice, the Chestnut also provides fine cover
for pheasants and other game. The trees begin to bear when about
twenty-five years old, and from thence on to the fiftieth or sixtieth
year the timber is at its best, but later it develops the defect known
as "ring shake," and becomes of little use. That is probably why one
meets with so many hollow wrecks of what were once noble Chestnuts.
The young wood is covered with smooth brown bark, but later this becomes
grey, and its surface splits into longitudinal fissures, which give a
very distinctive character to the trunk. In older trees the fissures and
the alternating ridges have a slight spiral twist, which gives the tree
the appearance (shown in our third photo) of having been wrenched round
by some mighty force. The average age of the Chestnut is about five
hundred years, but there have been in this country many old trees that
were much older, if any reliance could be placed in local tradition.
There was--we fear there is little of it still remaining--the great
Tortworth Chestnut in Lord Ducies' park at Tortworth Court. In 1820 it
was found to have a girth of fifty-two feet. Evelyn refers to it in his
"Sylva," and tells us that in the reign of King Stephen it already bore
the title of the Great Chestnut of Tortworth.
The name Chestnut appears to be a modification of the old Latin name
_Castanea_, through the French form _Chataigner_. The Latin is said to
be derived from Kastanum, a town in Thessaly, but it is more likely that
the presence of Chestnut-trees gave a name to the town, as has happened
so many times in our own country with various trees, the Chestnut
included.
Horse Chestnut (_Aesculus hippocastanum_).
Our placing the Chestnut and the Horse Chestnut into juxtaposition must
not be understood as a recognition of any relationship that may be
implied in their names, but rather the reverse--to accentuate the
differences that exist between them, and which have led botanists to
separate them widely in all systems of classification. Although the
fruits are sufficiently similar to have suggested the name Chestnut
being applied to this, with a qualifying prefix, they have been produced
by flowers of entirely different character. Evelyn tells us that the
word Horse was added because of its virtues in "curing horses
broken-winded and other cattle of coughs," a statement for which he was
no doubt indebted to Parkinson (1640), who says, "Horse Chestnuts are
given in the East Country, and so through all Turkie, unto Horses to
cure them of the cough, shortnesse of winde, and such other diseases;"
but seeing that, in this country at least, horses refuse to touch them,
there can be little doubt that the name was given to indicate their
inferiority to the Sweet Chestnut, and by a process only too well known
to the student of early botanical literature, the name was afterwards
held to be proof of their medicinal value to horses.
[Illustration: _Pl. 142._ Flowers of Sweet Chestnut.]
[Illustration: _Pl. 143._ Sweet Chestnut--winter.]
The Horse Chestnut is a native of the mountain regions of Greece,
Persia, and Northern India, and is believed to have been introduced to
Britain about 1550. It is not a tree that will be found in the
woodlands, or even by the wayside, except when it is behind a fence; yet
it constantly greets the rambler who has left the suburban gardens
behind him, and in the public parks--notably the magnificent avenue of
Bushey Park--where by contrast it exhibits itself as the grandest of all
flowering trees. Though the stout cylindrical bole is short, its erect
trunk towers to a height of eighty or a hundred feet, supporting the
massive pyramid, beautiful on account of its fine foliage and handsome
flowers alike. The stout branches take an upward direction at first,
then stretch outward and curve downwards, though in winter, when
relieved of the weight of foliage, their extremities curl sharply
upward, and the great buds in spring are almost erect.
These brown buds, with their numerous wraps and liberal coating of
varnish, afford considerable interest to the suburban dweller in early
spring. He watches their gradual swelling, and the polish that comes
upon them through the daily melting of their varnish under the influence
of sunshine. Then the outer scales fall flat, the upper parts show green
and loose; there is a perceptible lengthening of the shoot, which leaves
a space between those outer wraps and the folded leaves. Next the
leaflets separate and assume a horizontal position as they expand. Then
probably there comes a frost, and next morning the leaflets are all
hanging down, almost blackened, flaccid and dejected-looking. A warm
southerly rain, followed by sunshine, reinvigorates them, and we see
that the lengthening of the shoot has actually brought the incipient
flower-spike clear into view. By about the second week in May the
pyramid is clothed with bold handsome foliage, against which the conical
spikes of white blossoms, tinged with crimson and dotted with yellow,
stand out conspicuously.
The leaves are almost circular, but broken up, finger-fashion, into
seven toothed leaflets of different sizes, which appear to have started
as ovals, but the necessity for not overcrowding their neighbours has
necessitated the portion nearest the leaf-stalk taking a wedge shape.
The large size of these leaves--as much as eighteen inches across--leads
the non-botanical to regard the leaflets as being full leaves. On
emerging from the bud the leaves are seen to be covered with down, but
as they expand this is thrown off.
[Illustration: Horse Chestnut. A, flower; B, fruit.]
The flowers consist of a bell-shaped calyx with five lobes, supporting
five separate petals, pure white in colour, but splashed and dotted with
crimson and yellow towards the base of the upper ones, to indicate the
way to the honey-glands. There are seven curved stamens, and in their
midst a longer curved style proceeding from a roundish ovary with three
cells. In each cell there are two seed-eggs, but as a rule only one egg
in two of the cells develops into a "nut." The ovary develops into a
large fleshy bur, with short stout spines, which splits into three
valves when the dark-red glossy seeds are ripe. In the Sweet Chestnut
the brown skin of the nut is the ovary, which had been overgrown by the
prickly involucre; here the spiny green shell is the ovary, and the
"nut" a seed. Though horses will not eat this bitter fruit, cattle,
deer, and sheep are fond of it. Pounded in water, it becomes one of the
numerous vegetable substitutes for soap. Under the name of Konker, or
Conqueror, it affords a seasonal joy to the average boy, who first
bombards the tree with sticks and stones to dislodge the fruit, and then
threads the ruddy konkers on string and does battle with a chum
similarly equipped, the one whose string is broken or pulled from his
hand by the conflict of weapons being the vanquished. In some parts the
game is led off by the recitation of the rhyme, "Oblionker! my fust
konker."
[Illustration: _Pl. 144._ Horse Chestnut--summer.]
[Illustration: _Pl. 145._ Fruits of Horse Chestnut.]
[Illustration: _Pl. 146._ Bole of Horse Chestnut.]
[Illustration: _Pl. 147._ Horse Chestnut--winter.]
The growth of the tree is very rapid, and consequently the timber is
soft and of no value where durability is required. Still, its even grain
and susceptibility to a high polish make it useful for indoor wood, such
as cabinet-making and flooring. It is also used for making charcoal for
the gunpowder mills. Although Salvator Rosa and other landscape painters
have made such good use of the Sweet Chestnut pictorially, they have
utterly neglected the Horse Chestnut; and Hamerton hints that the cause
of this neglect is the artist's inability to represent its large flowers
and leaves by the landscape painter's ordinary method of laying on
masses of colour: this requires drawing. The tree begins to produce
fruit about its twentieth year, and continues to do so nearly every
year. Its age is estimated as about two hundred years. The bark, at
first smooth, breaks into irregular scales and in old trees a twist
may be developed, as illustrated by our photo of the bole.