118 JOURNAL OF THE ROYAL HORTICULTURAL SOCIETY 



THE HOLLIES. 



By E. T. Cook, E.E.H.S. 

 Lecture given on August 29, 1905.] 



Holly plays a most important part in our winter landscape. It is true 

 that not one of our native evergreens could be spared from either hill or 

 dale without a sense of grievous loss. Spruce and pine, juniper and yew, 

 and trailing ivy— each has its distinct value, and each in its own way is 

 very beautiful. But one and all of them are sad. We do not feel it when 

 the glow of the summer sunset lights up the red stems of the Scots firs, 

 nor when the murmur of the west wind croons softly in the spruce boughs 

 above our heads on a warm summer day. We may even turn away from 

 the dazzling colour of flower-borders to the cool sylvan green of juniper, 

 or gladly take shelter from scorching noonday sun under the dim shade 

 of the solemn yew, and never once think of sadness. But reverse the 

 picture, and recall how all these look under a gloomy November sky, with 

 fcg-clouds hanging low and chill over the hilltops, and say then if we are 

 not ready to confess that one and all are more or less funereal. Exactly 

 the same effect is given by some of the evergreen trees of other latitudes. 

 The "gloomy vegetation of the forest " at certain seasons at the antipodes 

 has often been remarked ; but we seldom realise, whether at home during 

 winter, or its corresponding rest-time in milder climates, that it is the 

 dead calm of arrested life all about us that holds us in its grip. Most 

 evergreens betray it even more than deciduous trees, which, to a watchful 

 eye, are never wholly asleep. Nor is this to be wondered at, for it is in fact 

 owing to the more complete suspension of vital force during their resting- 

 time that conifers and other evergreen trees are able to hold their leaves. 

 But, nevertheless, there is no dead calm about the holly. Rude health 

 and vigour are written upon it at all seasons, and the cheerful glint of its 

 polished leaves and the red glow of its berries do more for our English 

 landscape than we are apt to imagine. Like the <: pink " of the fox- 

 hunter, it saves our English countryside — and very often our sinking 

 spirits as well— from overmuch depression. 



In no other country does holly thrive as it does with us, and for that 

 reason, if for no other, we should make it a main feature in our English 

 landscape, encouraging it in those localities where it is naturally abundant, 

 and planting and cherishing it elsewhere. 



The winter outlook from our windows is quite as important to us as 

 individuals, if not more so, than the distant view. We surround our 

 houses with rhododendrons and all manner of exotic evergreens, and 

 they all have, as we are most ready to acknowledge, their distinct beauty 

 and advantages. We may, however, be suffering from a plethora of 

 Rhododendron ponticum, for example, which year by year is rising into 

 a dense wall and threatening to shut out light and air, and which gives 

 a sense of oppression that must be lived in to be felt or understood. 



