Scientific American Supplement, No. 421, January 26, 1884 eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 108 pages of information about Scientific American Supplement, No. 421, January 26, 1884.

Scientific American Supplement, No. 421, January 26, 1884 eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 108 pages of information about Scientific American Supplement, No. 421, January 26, 1884.

Carpinus Betulus,[1] the common hornbeam, as is the case with so many of our native or widely cultivated trees, exhibits considerable variation in habit, and also in foliage characters.  Some of the more striking of these, those which have received names in nurseries, etc., and are propagated on account of their distinctive peculiarities, are described below.  In a wild state C. Betulus occurs in Europe from Gothland southward, and extends also into West Asia.  Although apparently an undoubted native in the southern counties of England, it appears to have no claim to be considered indigenous as far as the northern counties are concerned; it has also been planted wherever it occurs in Ireland.

[Footnote 1:  IDENTIFICATION.—­Carpinus Betulus, L., Loudon, “Arboretum et Fruticetum Britannicum,” vol. iii., p. 2004; Encycl. of Trees and Shrubs, 917.  Boswell Syme, “English Botany,” vol. viii., p. 176, tab. 1293; Koch, “Dendrologie,” zweit. theil. zweit. abtheil., p. 2:  Hooker, “Student’s Flora of the British Islands,” ed. 2, p. 365.  C. Carpinizza, Host., “Flora Austriaca,” ii., p. 626.  C. intermedia.  Wierbitzsky in Reichb Ic. fl.  Germ. et Helvet., xxii. fig. 1297.]

[Illustration:  CARPINUS AMERICANA.]

Few trees bear cutting so well as the hornbeam, and for this reason, during the reign of the topiarist, it was held in high repute for the formation of the “close alleys,” “covert alleys,” or the “thick-pleached alleys,” frequently mentioned in Shakespeare and in the works of other authors about three centuries ago.  In the sixteenth century the topiary art had reached its highest point of development, and was looked upon as the perfection of gardening; the hornbeam—­and indeed almost every other tree—­was cut and tortured into every imaginable shape.  The “picturesque style,” however, soon drove the topiarist and his art out of the field, yet even now places still remain in England where the old and once much-belauded fashion still exists on a large scale—­a fact by no means to be deplored from an archaeological point of view.  Dense, quaintly-shaped hornbeam hedges are not unfrequent in the gardens of many old English mansions, and in some old country farmhouses the sixteenth century craze is still perpetuated on a smaller scale.

[Illustration:  CARPINUS BETULUS, LEAF, CATKINS, AND FRUIT.]

Sir J.E.  Smith, in his “English Flora,” after enumerating the virtues of the hornbeam as a hedge plant, gives it as his opinion that “when standing by itself and allowed to take its natural form, the hornbeam makes a much more handsome tree than most people are aware of.”  Those who are familiar with the fine specimens which exist at Studley Park and elsewhere will have no hesitation in confirming Sir J.E.  Smith’s statement.  The Hornbeam Walk in Richmond Park, from Pembroke Lodge toward the Ham Gate, will recur to many Southerners as a good instance of the fitness of the hornbeam for avenues.  In the walk in question there are many fine trees, which afford a thorough and agreeable shade during the summer months.

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Scientific American Supplement, No. 421, January 26, 1884 from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.