2088 ARBORETUM AND FRUTICETUM. PART III. 



of the vine, suggests the idea of planting female yew trees near vineries. 

 (Hort. Trans.) 



The yew makes excellent hedges for shelter ; undergrowth for the protection 

 of game; and, when planted thick on suitable soil, so as to be drawn up with 

 clean and straight trunks, most valuable timber. When the hedge is wanted 

 to be of one shade of green, the plants should all be raised from cuttings of 

 the same tree ; and, when they are intended to show fruit, in order to rival 

 a holly hedge, only female plants should be chosen ; and the hedge, like holly 

 hedges kept for their fruit, should be cut in with a knife, and never clipped 

 with the shears. Single scattered trees, when intended to be ornamental by 

 their berries, should, of course, always be females ; and, in order to determine 

 their sex, they should not be removed to where they are finally to remain till 

 they have flowered. This may, doubtless, be accelerated by ringing a branch 

 on each plant after it has attained 5 or 6 years' growth. 



The use of the yew tree in ancient topiary gardening, during the seventeenth 

 century, was as extensive, in England and France, as that of the box seems to 

 have been in Italy in the days of Pliny. The practice was rendered fashion- 

 able by Evelyn, previously to which the clipping of trees as garden ornaments 

 was chiefly confined to plants of box, juniper, &c., kept by the commercial 

 gardeners of the day in pots and boxes, and trained for a number of years, till 

 the figure required was complete. Sometimes, as we find by Gibson, Bradley, 

 and others, clipped plants of this sort sold as high as five guineas each ; and, in 

 all probability, this high price first led Evelyn to the idea of clipping the more 

 hardy yew in situations where it was finally to remain. The narrowness of 

 the leaves of the yew renders it far less disfigured by clipping than even the 

 box ; and, as it is much hardier than the juniper, should clipped trees come 

 again into fashion, there can be no doubt that the yew would be preferred to 

 all others. As an avenue tree, the yew may be considered suitable for 

 approaches to cemeteries, mausoleums, or tombs ; and, as a single tree, for 

 scattering in churchyards and burial-grounds. 



In modern gardening, the yew is chiefly valued as undergrowth, and for 

 single trees and small groups in particular situations. *' As to its picturesque 

 perfections," says Gilpin, writing in 1780, " I profess myself (contrary, I sup- 

 pose, to general opinion) a great admirer of its form and foliage. The yew 

 is, of all other trees, the most tonsile. Hence all the indignities it suffers. 

 We every where see it cut and metamorphosed into such a variety of defor- 

 mities, that we are hardly brought to conceive it has a natural shape, or the 

 power which other trees have 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. 

 Indeed, I know not whether, all things considered, it is not superior to the 

 cedar of Lebanon itself : I mean, to such meagre representations of that 

 noble plant as we have in England. The same soil which cramps the cedar 

 is congenial to the yew. It is but seldom, however, that we see the yew in 

 perfection. In the New Forest it formerly abounded, but is now much 

 scarcer. But still, in many parts of the New Forest, some noble specimens of 

 this tree are left. One I have often visited, which is a tree of peculiar beauty. 

 It immediately divides into several massive 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. But, though we should be able to establish 

 the beauty of the yew with respect to form and foliage, there remains one 

 point still which we should find it hard to combat. Its colour, unfortunately, 

 gives offence. Its dingy funereal hue, people say, makes it only fit for a 

 churchyard. An attachment to colour, as such, seems to me an indication 

 of false taste. Hence arise the numerous absurdities of gaudy decoration. 

 In the same manner, a dislike to any particular colour shows a squeamish- 

 ness, which should as little be encouraged. Indeed, when you have only one 

 colour to deal with, as in painting the wainscot of your room, the eye, 



