April, 1921 
THE 
51 
ARISTOCRAT OF SHRUBS 
Is the Boxwood, Old-Time Favorite and Now Eagerly Sought When One Attempts 
to Re-create the Garden Spirit of Earlier Days 
H. STUART ORTLOFF 
D OWN through the centuries with bits of 
history and romance still clinging tena¬ 
ciously to it, has come the boxwood tree. 
No other tree or bush seems to have the same 
tendency of re-creating our childhood dreams, 
or recalling to our mind's eye the pictures of 
the courtly days and ways of our ancestors. 
Well is it called the aristocrat of shrubs, 
and well that it should be sought after and 
treasured; because in these days when habits 
and customs are changed so lightly and ab¬ 
ruptly we should foster in our gardens some¬ 
thing which will bring us the charm and beauty 
of the old order. A gnarled oak, or an old 
elm with far-flung shade and lofty branches 
inspires within us a feeling of veneration, but 
there is something more intimate, more domestic 
and more personal in a venerable specimen of 
box which clearly shows its antiquity, and be¬ 
speaks the petting, the coaxing and the cher¬ 
ished care of generation after generation of 
garden lovers. 
The use of box is very, very old. We are 
told by the Jesuit poet, Rapin, in one of his 
quaint old poems, that Flora’s hair hung all 
undressed, neglected ‘‘in art-less tresses until 
in pity another nymph “around her head 
wreathed an boxen bough,” which so improved 
her beauty that trim edgings were placed ever 
after “where flowers disordered once at random 
grew.” Pliny tells of box in his Italian gar¬ 
dens. Historians of England have associated 
it with many old events and customs. It was 
popular because it was so wide spread, so hardy 
and thrifty, and so varied in its use. There 
were no better shrubs for borders and edgings. 
And it was so effective both in winter and in 
summer. Then when the craze for topiary 
work descended with all its awful force, it was 
discovered that the box would cut into grotesque 
shapes and train very easily. One can almost 
appreciate the feelings of a young husky box 
bush as it went under the shears and came out 
from the ordeal in the borrowed form of beast, 
bird, or fish. 
Then there were the utilitarian functions. It 
was early discovered that if my lady’s linen 
was spread on the broad flat tops of the box 
hedges it would bleach wonderfully well. It 
was a day of ceremony, this wash day, for it 
was an annual affair. The large linen chests 
held a huge supply, and only once a year did 
it all see the light of day and bleach in the sun. 
Many are the tales which the good housewife 
could tell of the gangs of men who made it a 
business to prey on the hedges of linen on these 
great days. 
With all these uses in mind is it little won¬ 
der that when the sturdy Pilgrim fathers loaded 
their household gods on the good ship May¬ 
flower, which was to bear them away from 
their native land to one which promised peace 
and liberty, they should remember to stow 
away carefully some little sprigs of box and 
nurse them tenderly? 
You can easily imagine the Puritan mother 
with a far-away look and tears in her eyes, 
planting the little sprigs near her cabin door 
when the first warm breath of spring came. 
It reminded her of the hedgerows of old En¬ 
gland, and friends. The stern religion of these 
(Continued on page 84) 
An air of venerable age clings to the boxwood, a heritage, perhaps, from 
the centuries through which this bush has come down to us. From the 
sun-steeped leaves rises a pungent, spicy odor whose appeal cannot be 
denied. By courtesy of Lewis & Valentine, landscape contractors 
