If the willow be the most poetical of trees, the Oak is certainly the
most useful; though, indeed, it is far from being unattended with poetic
interest, since the ancient superstitions associated with it have given
it an important place in legendary lore. It is not surprising, when we
remember the numerous benefits conferred on mankind by the Oak, that
this tree has always been regarded with veneration, that the ancients
held it sacred to Jupiter, and that divine honors were paid to it by our
Celtic ancestors. The Romans, who crowned their heroes with green Oak
leaves, entitled the “Civic Crown,” and the Druids, who offered
sacrifice under this tree, were actuated by the same estimation of its
pre-eminent utility to the human race. When we consider the sturdy form
of the Oak, the wide spread of its lower branches, that symbolize
protection; the value of its fruit for the sustenance of certain
animals; and the many purposes to which the bark, the wood, and even the
excrescences of this tree may be applied,—we can easily understand why
it is called the emblem of hospitality. The ancient Romans planted it to
overshadow the temple of Jupiter; and in the adjoining grove of
oaks,—the sacred grove of Dodona,—they sought those oracular responses
which were prophetic of the result of any important adventure.
To American eyes, the Oak is far less familiar than the elm as a wayside
tree; but in England, where many
“... a cottage chimney smokes
From betwixt two aged oaks,”
this tree, formerly associated with the principal religious ceremonies
of that country, is now hardly less sacred in the eyes of the
inhabitants from their experience of its shelter and its shade, and
their ideas of its usefulness in all the arts. The history of the
British Isles is closely interwoven with incidents connected with it,
and the poetry of Great Britain has derived from it many a theme of
inspiration.
The Oak surpasses all other trees, not only in actual strength, but also
in that outward appearance by which this quality is manifested. This
expression is owing to the general horizontal tendency of its principal
boughs, the great angularity of the unions of its smaller branches, the
want of flexibility in its spray, and its great size compared with its
height, all manifesting power to resist the wind and the storm. Hence it
is called the monarch of trees, surpassing all in the qualities of
nobleness and capacity. It is the embodiment of strength, dignity, and
grandeur. The severest hurricane cannot overthrow it, and, by destroying
some of its principal branches, leaves it only with more wonderful proof
of its resistance. Like a rock in mid-ocean, it becomes in old age a
just symbol of fortitude, parting with its limbs one by one, as they are
withered by decay or broken by the gale, but still retaining its
many-centuried existence, when, like an old patriarch, it has seen all
its early companions removed.
A remarkable habit of the Oak is that of putting forth its lower
branches at a wide angle from the central shaft, which rapidly
diminishes in size, but does not entirely disappear above the lower
junction. No other tree displays more irregularities in its
ramification. The beauty of its spray depends on a certain crinkling of
the small branches; yet the Oak, which, on account of these
angularities, is especially adapted to rude situations, is equally
attractive in an open cultivated plain. It forms a singularly noble and
majestic standard; and though surpassed by the elm in grace, beauty, and
variety of form, an Oak of full size and just proportions would attract
more admiration.
The foliage of the Oak may be readily distinguished at all seasons. It
comes out in spring in neatly plaited folds, displaying a variety of
hues, combined with a general cinereous tint. Hence it is very beautiful
when only half developed, having a silvery lustre, intershaded with
purple, crimson, and lilac. The leaves, when fully expanded in all the
typical oaks, are deeply scalloped in a way which is peculiar to this
genus of trees; their verdure is of more than ordinary purity; they are
of a firm texture, and glossy upon their upper surface, like evergreen
leaves. In midsummer few forest trees surpass the Oak in the beauty of
their foliage, or in its persistence after the arrival of frost.
Oak woods possess characters almost as strongly marked as those of a
pine wood. They emit a fragrance which is agreeable, though not sweet,
and unlike that of other trees. They seldom grow as densely as pines,
poplars, and other trees that scatter a multitude of small seeds, and,
being soft-wooded, increase with greater rapidity. The Oak is slow in
its perpendicular growth, having an obstinate inclination to spread. It
has also a more abundant undergrowth than many other woods, because it
sends its roots downward into the soil, instead of monopolizing the
surface, like the beech. One thing that is apparent on entering an Oak
wood is the absence of that uniformity which we observe in other woods.
The irregular and contorted growth of individual trees, twisting in many
directions, and the want of precision in their forms, are apparent at
once. We do not see in a forest of Oaks whole acres of tall slender
trees sending upward a smooth perpendicular shaft, as we observe in a
wood of beech and poplar. Every tree has more or less of a gnarled
growth, and is seldom entirely clear of branches. If the branch of an
Oak in a dense assemblage meets an obstruction, it bends itself around
and upward until it obtains light and space, or else ceases to grow
without decaying, while that of any soft-wooded tree would perish,
leaving the trunk smooth, or but slightly defaced.