The pines in general have not the formality that distinguishes the fir
and the spruce. They seldom display so much of a pyramidal shape as we
observe in a symmetrical fir. Their leaves are longer, and their
branches not so regularly given out in whorls. They are also more
generally round-headed when old; their leaves are in small fascicles,
containing from two to five, while those of the fir are arranged singly
along the branch or round it. The pine contains a greater quantity of
turpentine than any other family of resinous trees, and many of the
species are of the highest value in the mechanic arts. In the New
England States three species only are known, and of these two only are
common.
The most remarkable of this family of trees, and the one that comes
nearest the fir in symmetry and formality, is the White Pine. But though
like the fir in symmetry, it resembles it the least in all other
qualities, having the most flexibility of foliage of all the pines, and
bearing its leaves in fives. The White Pine, according to Michaux, “is
the loftiest and most valuable of the productions of the North American
forest. Its summit is seen at an immense distance, aspiring to heaven,
far above the heads of the surrounding trees.”
At first sight of a full-grown and well-proportioned White Pine we are
struck with its evident adaptedness to all purposes of shade and
shelter, in its wide-spread, horizontal branches, and in its silken
tufted foliage. It is not impenetrable to sunshine, but admits it in
constant flickering beams of light; and we perceive immediately that
there is no other tree in whose shade it would be more agreeable to
recline on a hot summer’s day, or under whose protection we might obtain
a greater amount of comfort in winter. The uniform arrangement of its
branches in whorls, forming a series of stages one above another, its
tasselled foliage in long, silky tufts at the ends of the branches, and
its symmetrical outline, constitute in the most obvious sense a
beautiful tree. These tufts, though not pendulous, have none of the
stiff bristling appearance of the other pines; and their verdure is of a
sober, not a sombre tint, though rather dull in lustre.
The symmetry or formality which some writers condemn in the style of
this tree is not of a disagreeable kind, like that of the Norway spruce.
It is combined both with majesty and grace, and increases the grandeur
of its appearance, like the architectural proportions of a temple in
which grandeur could not be produced without symmetry. This tree has
much of the amplitude so remarkable in the cedar of Lebanon. Hence the
look of primness, which the firs always retain, is counteracted by its
nobleness and altitude. It is combined also with a certain negligent
habit of its leafy robes, that softens its dignity into grace, and
causes it to wear its honors like one who feels no constraint under
their burden.
The White Pine has no legendary history. Being an American tree, it is
celebrated neither in poetry nor romance. It is associated with no
classical images, like the oak, nor with sacred literature, like the
cedar of Lebanon. It has no poetic history and no reputation save what
it may have derived from the easy motion of its foliage, the gentle
sweep of its smaller branches, its terebinthine odors, and its pleasant,
romantic shade. It has no factitious charms, but depends on its own
intrinsic merits for the pleasure it affords either the sight or the
mind. In New England, the White Pine contributes more than any other
evergreen to give character to our scenery. It is seen both in large and
small assemblages and in clumps, but not often as a solitary standard.
We see it in our journeys projecting over eminences that are encircled
by old roads, shading the traveller from the sun and protecting him from
the wind. We have sat under its fragrant shade, in our pedestrian tours,
when weary with heat and exercise we sought its coolness, and blessed it
as one of the guardian deities of the wood. We are familiar with it in
all pleasant, solitary places; and in our evening rambles we have
listened underneath its boughs to the notes of the green warbler, who
selects it for his abode, and has caught a plaintive tone from the winds
that sweep through its long sibilant leaves.
The White Pine is a tree that harmonizes with all situations, rude or
cultivated, level or abrupt. On the side of a hill it adds grandeur to
the declivity, and yields a sweeter look of tranquillity to the green
pastoral meadow. It gives a darker frown to the projecting cliff, and a
more awful uncertainty to the mountain pass or the craggy ravine. Over
desolate scenery it spreads a cheerfulness that detracts nothing from
its power over the imagination, while it relieves it of its terrors, by
presenting a green bulwark of defence against the wind and the storm.
Nothing can be more picturesque in scenery than the occasional groups of
White Pines on the bald hills of our New England coast, elsewhere too
often a dreary waste of homely bush and brier.
Such are its picturesque characters. It may also be regarded as a true
symbol of benevolence. Under its outspread roof, numerous small animals,
nestling in the bed of dry leaves that cover the ground, find shelter
and repose. The squirrel feeds upon the kernels obtained from its cones;
the hare browses upon the trefoil and the spicy foliage of the
hypericum, which are protected in its shade, and the fawn reposes on its
brown couch of leaves, unmolested by the outer tempest. From its green
arbors the quails are often roused in midwinter, where they feed upon
the berries of the michella and the spicy wintergreen. Nature, indeed,
seems to have designed this tree to protect her living creatures both in
summer and winter.
The geographical limits of the White Pine are not very extensive. It is
confined to northern regions, but does not extend so far north as the
red pine or the fir. In the Southern and Middle States it is seen only
in the Alleghany range; but it constitutes the principal timber of the
pine forests of Canada and the New England States, which Loudon says are
“the most extensive in the world.” The _débris_ of granite affords the
best soil for the coniferous trees, but the White Pine is seldom found
in marshes. The tree that bears the nearest resemblance to it is the
Lambert pine of California, to which our tree approximates in size.
Michaux measured two trunks near the banks of the Kennebec, one of which
was one hundred and fifty-four feet in length, and fifty-four inches in
diameter; the other, one hundred and forty-two feet in length, and
forty-four inches in diameter.