The solitariness, the absence of men and of human interest, is not compensated by any of the wild charms of nature. There is small room here for the discovery of the habitat and native character of plants, no chance of meeting with a rare species, every thing is modelled to art. The land-bailiff is an adept. With his dirty composts and top-dressings, he smothers the fog and the daisy; the scythe {229} sweeps down every idle weed, every wild flower which escapes his large-mouthed oxen. The live smooth bark of the lush fast-growing trees, affords no footing for the various and beautiful tribes of mosses and lichens. The fog-bee has lost its dwelling, the humble-bee its flowers, and they have flown away. Scarce an insect remains, except the swollen earth-worm, the obscene beetle, and the bloated toad, crawling among the rank grass. There is a heavy dankness in the air itself. The nervous fluid stagnates under it,—the muscles relax into lassitude,—inexpressible depression sinks upon the heart.
It is impossible to describe the relief we feel when we emerge again into varied nature beyond the ring-fence,—we have the hill and the furze, the wild-violet and the thyme, and all the sweet diversity of our subalpine flora. We have the thatched, patched hut, the fine ragged children, the blooming cottage-girl,—we have the corn-field, where weeds of every dye, the beautiful centaurea and scabiosa, the elegant fumaria, the gaudy cock-rose, and the splendid chrysanthemum, are contending for existence with the cerealeæ. Look at the broken mound, with its old picturesque trees and tangled bushes; there is the ancient root where the throstle had its nestlings, which are now at large on the leafy boughs, and are {230} tuning their yet unformed notes to melody. Now every twig has raised its new column of foliage to the sun; and branch, and root, and stone, embellished all over in the richest variety of cryptogamic beauty, swarm of insect life. This smooth path has been paved by the lightsome foot; how superior to the gravel-walk on which the labourer has grudged his useless toil! Even the cart-ruts possess an interest, which useful labour has worn. After the smooth monotony of the park; the turf-dykes, the fluting of the ridges, the different kinds of crops, are most agreeable diversity. The dunghil, and chanticleer among his dames, the toiled horse, the lean milch-cow, and the superhumanly-sagacious-looking shepherd-colley,—every thing we behold commands a sympathy, draws forth a wish of benevolence.
As Sir Walter Scott’s Critique came under our notice prior to Sir Henry’s Guide, we shall proceed in the same order.
In the first half of this article, Sir Walter gives the history, and describes the varied character, of Landscape Gardening, in a very imaginative and felicitous manner, which, as depending on genius and literature alone, was to be expected; but, in the latter part of the essay, when he comes to treat of {231} action and facts, and Sir Henry’s discoveries, the deficiency in practical knowledge and judgment, only forms a contrast to the fancy, elegance, and erudition of what goes before.
Sir Walter, apparently not quite unconscious of the ridicule attaching to the subject,—to this mighty scientific and historic parade in teaching country gentlemen to amuse themselves by transferring grown trees as they list, from one place to another, without entirely destroying the life of the transported subject,—makes a curious effort to sustain its consequence, by pointing out the immense advantages to a district by the squire’s residing in it; insinuating, that every thing which may amuse him at home, and thus induce him to stay, although of itself childish or infamous, becomes of the highest importance, being ennobled by the end. The following courtly quotation is from Sir Walter’s proemial observations: “A celebrated politician used to say, he would willingly bring in a bill to make poaching felony, another to encourage the breed of foxes, and a third to revive the decayed amusements of cock-fighting and bull-baiting; that he would make, in short, any sacrifice to the humours and prejudices of the country gentlemen, in their most extravagant form, providing only he could prevail on them to dwell in their {232} own houses, be the patrons of their own tenantry, and the fathers of their own children.” Sir Walter does not attempt to describe or analyze the “humours and prejudices” necessary to render the above lures efficacious. Does he infer that such dishonourable power over their fellow men, or that the opportunity of indulging in such low despicable practices, would induce the country gentlemen to sojourn in their father-land? It is impossible to say any thing more insultingly cutting. But we are far from imputing to Sir Walter any intentional offence. Yet we cannot help being angry with the freakish favouritism of Fortune, although we are sensible it belongs instinctively to the female character, often a necessary and very interesting trait; how she dooms one man from his childhood to toil incessantly for a bare subsistence; how she lavishes her favours upon another, and surrounds him from the cradle with every delight; the mind enlightened, the taste cultivated, the body trained to the most graceful exercises, even whose very amusements are considered of so great importance as to throw a high interest upon an art of no earthly utility, but, on the contrary, where the labour of many workmen is thrown uselessly away. We are aware that Sir Walter and his Senator only regard these pastimes {233} of the country gentlemen, thus highly, through a reflected interest, the latter in a political view; and the Baronet, from the known warm benevolence of his heart (a feeling generally associated with genius), towards his poor countrymen, to whom he supposes, in the event of the country gentlemen being by any means induced to stay at home, a part of the great land revenue so unjustly wrung from the poor man’s labour would again devolve.
It is amusing to observe with what a flow of imagination Sir Walter shews off his friend’s inventions—inventions which have been practised with less or more success, in a manner very similar, by almost every planter of note, since the time of Nero. We quote again: “The existence of the wonders,—so we may call them,—which Sir Henry Steuart has effected, being thus supported by the unexceptionable evidence of competent judges (a deputation by the Highland Society), what lover of natural beauty can fail to be interested in his own detailed account of the mode by which he has been able to make wings for time?”—“But although we have found the system to be at once original, effectual, and attended with moderate expense, we are not sanguine enough to hope that it will at once find {234} general introduction. The application of steam and gas to the important functions which they at present perform, was slowly and reluctantly adopted, after they had been opposed for many years by the prejudices of the public,—earlier or later this beautiful and rational system will be brought into general action, when it will do more to advance the picturesque beauty of the country in five years, than the slow methods hitherto adopted will in fifty. It is now found we possess the art of changing the face of nature like the scenes in a theatre, and that we can convert, almost instantaneously, a desert to an Eden.”
Now, this is admirable! Even were it granted, that no planter before Sir Henry Steuart’s time, or without his instructions, had ever removed a tree of considerable size successfully (though we believe he has nearly as much the merit of discovery in this as in the other curious invention ascribed to him by Sir Walter, “making wings for time,” which must certainly have been performed by Sir Henry a long while ago, as we remember time flying very well when we were a truant boy); yet, nevertheless, Sir Walter, now that his paroxysm of admiration has had time to moderate, will surely help us to laugh {235} at the absurdity of his hyperbolic figures of comparison, with steam, and gas, and scenic transformation, which throw such ridicule upon his excellent friend.
We believe that Sir Henry Steuart has been as successful as many others of his countrymen in transplanting grown trees. We have had some little practice ourselves in this art, but which, had it not been for Sir Henry’s discoveries, we should not have thought of obtruding on the notice of the public. The house we occupied was covered to the south and west by part of an old orchard of apple and pear trees, which excluded the drying south-western breeze, so necessary in a low damp situation. We transplanted nearly an acre of these, certainly with more success and economy than could have been effected by Sir Henry’s practice, the soil being so tenacious, that it was impossible to remove the earth from the roots without fracturing all the smaller fibres. The soil, an adhesive brown Carse clay, contained a good deal of vegetable matter, to the depth of about 15 inches, when the subsoil, a close hard yellow clay commenced, into which very few of the roots penetrated. This ground had been long under grass, and the upper soil was much bound together by the grass and tree roots. Under these circumstances we adopted the following plan:—{236}
We first had a stout sledge made, about four feet square, of lumber pieces of wood, the side pieces about five feet long, on which it slid, had a small bend, and extended nearly a foot behind the cross bottom sheaths, which were sparred over with three narrow boards. The stout chain of a roller was affixed to this sledge, when at use, to drag it by. In the autumn we prepared the site where we intended placing each tree, by throwing out the earth on two sides about a foot deep, and eight feet square, and then dug over the bottom of this shallow pit one spit deep, and sloped the two other sides, to which the earth had not been thrown, so that horses could walk across it; we then took the opportunity of a slight shower, when the ground was slippery above and hard below, so that the sledge could easily be dragged, and set the labourers to work to dig a narrow trench, two feet deep, and about three feet distant from the stem (more or less according to the size of the tree), around those trees we intended to remove, paying no regard to the roots, but cutting them right down where they interfered with the trench, and where the roots in the central part (the part surrounded by the trench) were not immediately at the surface, paring off the turf till the roots appeared. This being done, we caused them to {237} under-dig and scrape out the clay all round, nearly a foot inward below the roots, and then to introduce two large ladders at one side as levers to upset the tree, the strong end of the ladders being put into the trench, and as far underneath the roots as to catch hold firmly, the outer side of the trench being the fulcrum on which they rested to obtain a purchase, the light end sloping upward about 14 feet high. Two men were then employed upon each ladder; one of them pulled down by a rope attached to the top, while the other guided the ladder, and rocked it a little up and down; and, at the same time, several men hung upon the opposite side of the tree, either by a rope or the branches, till their united force upset the tree with a large cake of clay bound together by the roots, five or six feet square, and perhaps fifteen inches thick, standing up like a wall, similar to what occurs when spruce or Scots fir are upset by high winds, in shallow wet-bottomed soil. We then removed the ladders, sloped the outer side of the trench where they had rested, and pared away the clay from the upset root, till we thought four horses could drag it, one or two men in the mean time sitting in the top to prevent the tree righting. After this we introduced the sledge, pushing it as far back as possible; if necessary, cutting holes to {238} admit the ends of the side-pieces of the sledge through the lower edge of the upset root; and if the tree were large, placing several wet slippery boards under the sides of the sledge, that it might be more easily drawn up the acclivity of the hole. The men hanging or sitting on the top, then let go their hold, and the tree generally righted itself, standing fair upon the sledge as it grew; if it did not do this of itself, they assisted its rising by lifting at the top. The root was then secured firmly upon the sledge with ropes, and the horses were attached, who, by pulling stoutly, dragged the sledge with its load out of the hole up the slope, and away to the prepared new situation, one man walking at each side, having hold of a rope attached to the top of the tree to guide and steady it when passing a furrow or other inequality of the road. The horses were led across the new site, and stopped when the sledge and tree were in the pit, about a foot past the berth; the ropes fixing the stool on the sledge were then untied, and, by pulling backward upon the ropes fixed to the top, the tree was upset again upon its side from off the sledge, and the sledge dragged forward. The tree was then allowed or assisted to right itself again in its proper berth, and friable earth packed well around and scattered over the stool, and a little litter spread over {239} all. The ground was then drained and trenched, excepting the part around the tree, which had been stirred in the planting. If thought necessary, a prop or two were placed to steady the tree during the winter, as it might otherwise work a little back and forward with the wind while the clay was moist and soft. After the earth had dried in the spring, the props were removed.
When we look back on the description of this practice, it seems tedious; but much of the work is done sooner than described. Were it of sufficient importance, trees might be grown in something like lazy beds, with water always standing in the dividing trenches, about fifteen inches lower than the surface, which would procure roots very manageable by this practice. We once had a small nursery of oaks so situated, and the trees which were removed, when of considerable size, had roots uncommonly matted and fibrous, and which carried with them a large mass of soil. These succeeded very well when transplanted, but we should consider that plants from a drier poorer soil, with roots equally fibrous, would be preferable, could they be extracted with as much adhering earth, which, however, could not be accomplished without preparation and considerable labour. Were it the only consideration to procure plants which would best {240} support the transplanting when of considerable size, this, or the practice of cutting the roots, and encouraging the rooting by manuring and thickening the earth around the stool, would merit attention; but as we have already stated, we consider plants with these matted roots not so likely to grow to large timber as those with several unchecked large diverging root-leaders.