Having essayed to instruct our agricultural friends in the proper modes
of erecting their houses, and providing for their convenient
accommodation within them, a few remarks may be pardoned touching such
collateral subjects of embellishment as may be connected with the farm
residence in the way of plantations and grounds in their immediate
vicinity.
We are well aware that small farms do not permit any considerable
appropriation of ground to _waste_ purposes, as such spots are usually
called which are occupied with wood, or the shade of open trees, near
the dwelling. But no dwelling can be complete in all its appointments
without trees in its immediate vicinity. This subject has perhaps been
sufficiently discussed in preceding chapters; yet, as a closing course
of remark upon what a farm house, greater or less in extent, should be
in the amount of shade given to it, a further suggestion or two may be
permitted. There are, in almost all places, in the vicinity of the
dwelling, portions of ground which can be appropriated to forest trees
without detriment to other economical uses, if applied in the proper
way. Any one who passes along a high road and discovers the farm house,
seated on the margin or in the immediate vicinity of a pleasant grove,
is immediately struck with the peculiarly rural and picturesque air
which it presents, and thinks to himself that he should love such a spot
for his own home, without reflecting that he might equally as well
create one of the same character. Sites already occupied, where
different dispositions are made of contiguous ground, may not admit of
like advantages; and such are to be continued in their present
arrangement, with such course of improvement as their circumstances will
admit. But to such as are about to _select_ the sites of their future
homes, it is important to study what can best embellish them in the most
effective shade and ornament.
In the immediate vicinity of our large towns and cities it is seldom
possible to appropriate any considerable breadth of land to ornamental
purposes, excepting rough and unsightly waste ground, more or less
occupied with rock or swamp; or plainer tracts, so sterile as to be
comparatively worthless for cultivation. Such grounds, too, often lie
bare of wood, and require planting, and a course of years to cover them
with trees, even if the proprietor is willing, or desirous to devote
them to such purpose. Still, there are vast sections of our country
where to economize land is not important, and a mixed occupation of it
to both ornament and profit may be indulged to the extent of the owner's
disposition. All over the United States there are grand and beautiful
sweeps and belts of cultivated country, interspersed with finely-wooded
tracts, which offer the most attractive sites for the erection of
dwellings on the farms which embrace them, and that require only the eye
and hand of taste to convert them, with slight labor, into the
finest-wooded lawns and forested parks imaginable. No country whatever
produces finer trees than North America. The evergreens of the north
luxuriate in a grandeur scarcely known elsewhere, and shoot their cones
into the sky to an extent that the stripling pines and firs, and larches
of England in vain may strive to imitate. The elm of New England towers
up, and spreads out its sweeping arms with a majesty unwonted in the
ancient parks or forests of Europe; while its maples, and birches, and
beeches, and ashes, and oaks, and the great white-armed buttonwood, make
up a variety of intervening growth, luxuriant in the extreme. Pass on
through the Middle States, and into the far west, and there they still
flourish with additional kinds--the tulip and poplar--the nut-trees,
in all their wide variety, with a host of others equally grand and
imposing, interspersed; and shrub-trees innumerable, are seen every
where as they sweep along your path. Beyond the Alleghanies, and south
of the great lakes, are vast natural parks, many of them enclosed, and
dotted with herds of cattle ranging over them, which will show single
trees, and clumps of forest that William the Conqueror would have given
a whole fiefdom in his Hampshire spoliations to possess; while,
stretching away toward the Gulf of Mexico, new varieties of tree are
found, equally imposing, grand, and beautiful, throughout the whole vast
range, and in almost every locality, susceptible of the finest possible
appropriation to ornament and use. Many a one of these noble forests,
and open, natural parks have been appropriated already to embellish the
comfortable family establishment which has been built either on its
margin, or within it; and thousands more are standing, as yet
unimproved, but equally inviting the future occupant to their ample
protection.
The moral influences, too, of lawns and parks around or in the vicinity
of our dwellings, are worthy of consideration. Secluded as many a
country dweller may be, away from the throng of society, there is a
sympathy in trees which invites our thoughts, and draws our presence
among them with unwonted interest, and in frequent cases, assist
materially in stamping the feelings and courses of our future
lives--always with pure and ennobling sentiments--
"The groves were God's first temples."
The thoughtful man, as he passes under their sheltering boughs, in the
heat of summer, with uncovered brow, silently worships the Hand that
formed them there, scarcely conscious that their presence thus elevates
his mind to holy aspirations. Among them, the speculative man
"Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones."
Even children, born and educated among groves of trees, drink in early
impressions, which follow them for good all their days; and, when the
toils of their after life are passed, they love to return to these
grateful coverts, and spend their remaining days amid the tranquillity
of their presence. Men habituated to the wildest life, too, enjoy the
woods, the hills, and the mountains, beyond all the captivation and
excitement of society, and are nowhere at rest, but when in their
communion.
The love of forest scenery is a thing to be cultivated as a high
accomplishment, in those whose early associations have not been among
them. Indeed, country life is tame, and intolerable, without a taste,
either natural or acquired, for fine landscape scenery; and in a land
like this, where the country gives occupation to so great a proportion
of its people, and a large share of those engaged in the active and
exciting pursuits of populous towns, sigh and look forward to its
enjoyment, every inducement should be offered to cultivate a taste for
those things which make one of its chief attractions. Nor should
seclusion from general society, and a residence apart from the bustling
activity of the world, present a bar to the due cultivation of the taste
in many subjects supposed to belong only to the throng of association.
It is one of the advantages of rural life, that it gives us time to
think; and the greatest minds of whose labors in the old world we have
had the benefit, and of later times, in our own land, have been reared
chiefly in the solitude of the country. Patrick Henry loved to range
among the woods, admiring the leafy magnificence of nature, and to
follow the meandering courses of the brooks, with his hook and line.
Washington, when treading the vast solitudes of central Virginia, with
his surveyor's instruments on his back, conceived the wonderful
resources of the great empire of which he will ever be styled the
"father." The dwelling of the late John C. Calhoun, sheltered by noble
trees, stands on an elevated swell of a grand range of mountain land,
and it was there that his prolific genius ripened for those burning
displays of thought which drew to him the affections of admiring
thousands. Henry Clay undoubtedly felt the germ of his future greatness
while sauntering, in his boyhood days, through the wild and picturesque
slashes of Hanover. Webster, born amid the rugged hills of New
Hampshire, drew the delightful relish of rural life, for which he is so
celebrated, from the landscapes which surrounded his early home, and
laid the foundation of his mighty intellect in the midst of lone and
striking scenery. Bryant could never have written his "Thanatopsis," his
"Rivulet," and his "Green River," but from the inspiration drawn from
his secluded youthful home in the mountains of Massachusetts. Nor, to
touch a more sacred subject, could Jonathan Edwards ever have composed
his masterly "Treatise on the Will," in a pent-up city; but owes his
enduring fame to the thought and leisure which he found, while
ministering, among the sublime mountains of the Housatonic, to a feeble
tribe of Stockbridge Indians.
And these random names are but a few of those whose love of nature early
imbibed, and in later life enjoyed in their own calm and retired homes,
amid the serene beauty of woods and waters, which might be named, as
illustrations of the influence which fine scenery may exercise upon the
mind, to assist in moulding it to greatness. The following anecdote was
told us many years ago, by a venerable man in Connecticut, a friend of
the elder Hillhouse, of New Haven, to whom that city is much indebted
for the magnificent trees by which it has become renowned as "the City
of the Elms:" While a member of the General Assembly of that state, when
Hillhouse was in Congress, learning that he had just returned home from
the annual session, our informant, with a friend, went to the residence
of the statesman, to pay him a visit. He had returned only that morning,
and on their way there, they met him near his house, with a stout young
tree on his shoulder, just taken from a neighboring piece of forest,
which he was about to transplant in the place of one which had died
during his absence. After the usual salutations, our friend expressed
his surprise that he was so soon engaged in tree-planting, before he had
even had time to look to his private and more pressing affairs. "Another
day may be too late," replied the senator; "my tree well planted, it
will grow at its leisure, and I can then look to my own concerns at my
ease. So, gentlemen, if you will just wait till the tree is set, we'll
walk into the house, and settle the affairs of state in our own way."
Walter Scott, whose deep love of park and forest scenery has stamped
with his masterly descriptions, his native land as the home of all
things beautiful and useful in trees and plantations, spent a great
share of his leisure time in planting, and has written a most
instructive essay on its practice and benefits. He puts into the mouth
of "the Laird of Dumbiedikes," the advice, "Be aye sticking in a tree,
Jock; it will be growing while you are sleeping." But Walter Scott had
no American soil to plant his trees upon; nor do the grandest forest
parks of Scotland show a tithe of the luxuriance and majesty of our
American forests. Could he but have seen the variety, the symmetry, and
the vast size of our oaks, and elms, and evergreens, a new element of
descriptive power would have grown out of the admiration they had
created within him; and he would have envied a people the possession of
such exhaustless resources as we enjoy, to embellish their homes in the
best imaginable manner, with such enduring monuments of grace and
beauty.
To the miscellaneous, or casual reader, such course of remark may appear
merely sublimated nonsense. No matter; we are not upon stilts, talking
_down_ to a class of inferior men, in a condescending tone, on a subject
above their comprehension; but we are addressing men, and the sons of
men, who are our equals--although, like ourself, upon their farms,
taking their share in its daily toils, as well as pleasures--and can
perfectly well understand our language, and sympathize with our
thoughts. They are the thoughts of rural life everywhere. It was old Sam
Johnson, the great lexicographer, who lumbered his unwieldy gait through
the streets of cities for a whole life, and with all his vast learning
and wisdom, had no appreciation of the charms of the country, that said,
"Who feeds fat cattle should himself be fat;" as if the dweller on the
farm should not possess an idea above the brutes around him. We wonder
if he ever supposed a merchant should have any more brain than the
parcel that he handled, or the bale which he rolled, or directed others
to roll for him! But, loving the solitude of the farm, and finding a
thousand objects of interest and beauty scattered in profusion, where
those educated among artificial objects would see nothing beyond things,
to them, vulgar and common-place, in conversing with our rural friends
upon what concerns their daily comfort, and is to constitute the nursery
of those who succeed them, and on the influences which may, in a degree,
stamp their future character, we cannot forbear such suggestions,
connected with the family Home, as may induce them to cultivate all
those accessories around it, which may add to their pleasure and
contentment. We believe it was Keats, who said,
"A thing of Beauty is a joy for ever."
And the thought that such "beauty" has been of our own creation, or that
our own hands have assisted in its perpetuation, should certainly be a
deep "joy" of our life.
We have remarked, that the farm house is the chief nursery on which our
broad country must rely for that healthy infusion of stamina and spirit
into those men who, under our institutions, guide its destiny and direct
its councils. They, in the great majority of their numbers, are natives
of the retired homestead. It is, therefore, of high consequence, that
good taste, intelligence, and correct judgment, should enter into all
that surrounds the birth-place, and early scenes of those who are to be
the future actors in the prominent walks of life, either in public or
private capacity; and as the love of trees is one of the leading
elements of enjoyment amid the outward scenes of country-life, we
commend most heartily all who dwell in the pure air and bright sunshine
of the open land to their study and cultivation.
Every man who lives in the country, be he a practical farmer or not,
should _plant_ trees, more or less. The father of a family should plant,
for the benefit of his children, as well as for his own. The bachelor
and the childless man should plant, if for nothing more than to show
that he has left _some_ living thing to perpetuate his memory. Boys
should early be made planters. None but those who love trees, and plant
them, know the serene pleasure of watching their growth, and
anticipating their future beauty and grandeur; and no one can so
exquisitely enjoy their grateful shade, as he whose hand has planted and
cared for them. Planting, too, is a most agreeable pastime to a
reflecting mind. It may be ranked among the pleasures, instead of the
toils of life. We have always so found it. There is no pleasanter sight
of labor than to see a father, with his young lads about him, planting a
tree. It becomes a landmark of their industry and good taste; and no
thinking man passes a plantation of fine trees but inwardly blesses the
man, or the memory of the man who placed them there.
Aside from all this, trees properly distributed, give a value to an
estate far beyond the cost of planting, and tending their growth, and
which no other equal amount of labor and expense upon it can confer.
Innumerable farms and places have been sold at high prices, over those
of perhaps greater producing value, merely for the trees which
embellished them. Thus, in a pecuniary light, to say nothing of the
pleasure and luxury they confer, trees are a source of profitable
investment.
It is a happy feature in the improving rural character of our country,
that tree-planting and tree preservation for some years past have
attracted much more attention than formerly; and with this attention a
better taste is prevailing in their selection. We have gained but little
in the introduction of many of the foreign trees among us, for ornament.
Some of them are absolutely barbarous in comparison with our American
forest trees, and their cultivation is only a demonstration of the utter
want of good taste in those who apply them.
For ordinary purposes, but few exotics should be tolerated; and those
chiefly in collections, as curiosities, or for arboretums--in which
latter the farmer cannot often indulge; and for all the main purposes of
shade, and use, and ornament, the trees of no country can equal our own.
Varied as our country is, in soils and climates, no particular
directions can be given as to the individual varieties of tree which are
to be preferred for planting. Each locality has its own most appropriate
kinds, and he who is to plant, can best make the selections most fitted
to his use. Rapid-growing trees, when of fine symmetry, and free from
bad habits in throwing up suckers; not liable to the attacks of insects;
of early, dense, and long-continued foliage, are most to be commended;
while their opposites in character should be avoided in all well-kept
grounds. It requires, indeed, but a little thought and observation to
guide every one in the selection which he should make, to produce the
best effect of which the tree itself is capable.
Giving the importance we have, to trees, and their planting, it may be
supposed that we should discuss their position in the grounds to which
they should be appropriated. But no specific directions can be given at
large. All this branch of the subject must be left to the locality,
position, and surface of the ground sought to be improved. A good tree
can scarcely stand in a wrong place, when not injurious to a building by
its too dense shade, or shutting out its light, or prospect. Still, the
proper disposition of trees is a _study_, and should be well considered
before they be planted. Bald, unsightly spots should be covered by them,
when not devoted to more useful objects of the farm, either in pasturage
or cultivation. A partial shading of the soil by trees may add to its
value for grazing purposes, like the woodland pastures of Kentucky,
where subject to extreme droughts, or a scorching sun.
If the planter feels disposed to consult authorities, as to the best
disposition of his trees, works on Landscape Gardening may be studied;
but these can give only general hints, and the only true course is to
strive to make his grounds look as much like nature herself as
possible--for nature seldom makes mistakes in her designs. To conclude a
course of remark, which the plain farmer, cultivating his land for its
yearly profit alone, may consider as foreign to the subject of our work,
we would not recommend any one to plant trees who is not willing to
spend the necessary time to nurse and tend them afterward, till they are
out of harm's way, and well established in a vigorous growth. All this
must be taken into the account, for it is better to have even but a few
trees, and those what trees should be, than a whole forest of stinted
things, writhing and pining through a course of sickly existence.
A chapter might also be written upon the proper mode of taking up and
planting trees, but as this would lead us to a subject more directly
belonging to another department, the proper authorities on that head
must be consulted.