Woodland Gleanings: Being an Account of British Forest-Trees

by Robert Tyas

"It is very probable, however, there may be other Oaks in the forest which may likewise have the property of early vegetation. I have heard it often suspected, that people gather buds from other trees and carry them, on old Christmas day, to the Oak at Cadenham, from whence they pretend to pluck them; for that tree is in such repute, and resorted to annually by so many visitants, that I think it could not easily supply all its votaries without some foreign contributions. Some have accounted for this phenomenon by supposing that leaves have been preserved over the year by being steeped in vinegar. But I am well satisfied this is not the case. Mr. Lightfoot, to whom I sent the leaves, had no such suspicion."

In the Salisbury Journal, January 10, 1781, the following paragraph appeared:—

"In consequence of a report that has prevailed in this country for upwards of two centuries, and which by many has been almost considered as a matter of faith, that the Oak at Cadenham, in the New Forest, shoots forth leaves on every old Christmas day, and that no leaf is ever to be seen on it, either before or after that day, during the winter; a lady, who is now on a visit in this city, and who is attentively curious in every thing relative to art or nature, made a journey to Cadenham on Monday, the 3d instant, purposely to inquire, on the spot, about the production of this famous tree. On her arrival near it, the usual guide was ready to attend her; but on his being desired to climb the Oak, and to search whether there were any leaves then on it, he said it would be to no purpose, but that if she would come on the Wednesday following (Christmas day), she might certainly see thousands. However, he was prevailed on to ascend, and on the first branch which he gathered appeared several fair new leaves, fresh sprouted from the buds, and nearly an inch and a half in length. It may be imagined that the guide was more amazed at this premature production than the lady; for so strong was his belief in the truth of the whole tradition, that he would have pledged his life that not a leaf was to have been discovered on any part of the tree before the usual hour.

"But though the superstitious part of this ancient legend is hence confuted, yet it must be allowed there is something very uncommon and curious in an Oak constantly shooting forth leaves at this unseasonable time of the year, and that the cause of it well deserves the philosophical attention of the botanist. In some years there is no doubt that this Oak may show its first leaves on the Christmas morning, as probably as on a few days before; and this perhaps was the case in the last year, when a gentleman of this neighbourhood, a nice and critical observer, strictly examined the branches, not only on the Christmas morn, but also on the day prior to it. On the first day not a leaf was to be found, but on the following every branch had its complement, though they were then but just shooting from the buds, none of them being more than a quarter of an inch long. The latter part of the story may easily be credited—that no leaves are to be seen on it after Christmas day—as large parties yearly assemble about the Oak on that morning, and regularly strip every appearance of a leaf from it."

At Elderslie, near Paisley, upon a little knoll, there stood, near the end of the last century, the ruins of an Oak, which was supposed to be the largest tree that ever grew in Scotland. The trunk was then wholly decayed and hollow, but it was evident, from what remained, that its diameter could not have been less than eleven or twelve feet. As to its age, we can only conjecture, from some circumstances, that it is most likely a tree of great antiquity. The little knoll whereon it stands is surrounded by a swamp, over which a causeway leads to the tree, or rather to a circle which seems to have run round it. The vestiges of this circle, as well as the causeway, bear a plain resemblance to those works which are commonly attributed to the Druids, so that this tree was probably a scene of worship consecrated by these heathen priests. But the credit of it does not depend on the dubious vestiges of Druid antiquity. In a latter scene of greater importance (if tradition ever be the vehicle of truth) it bore a large share. When the illustrious and renowned hero, William Wallace, roused the spirit of the Scotch nation to oppose the tyranny of Edward, he frequently chose the solitude of Torwood as a place of rendezvous for his army. There he concealed his numbers and his designs, sallying out suddenly on the enemy's garrisons, and retreating as suddenly when he feared to be overpowered. While his army lay in those woods, the Oak which we are now commemorating was commonly his head-quarters. There the hero generally slept, its hollow trunk being sufficiently capacious, not only to afford shelter to himself, but also to many of his followers. This tree has ever since been known by the name of Wallace tree.

In the enclosure known as the Little Park, in Windsor Forest, there is still standing the supposed Oak immortalized by Shakspeare as the scene of Hern the hunter's exploits:—

—An old tale goes, that Hern the hunter,
Sometime a keeper here in Windsor Forest,
Doth all the winter time, at still of midnight,
Walk round about this Oak, with ragged horns;
And then he blasts the trees, destroys the cattle,
Makes the milch cow yield blood, and shakes a chain
In hideous, dreadful manner.
Merry Wives, iv. 3.

This tree measures about twenty-four feet in circumference, and is yet vigorous, which somewhat injures its historical credit. For though it is evidently a tree advanced in years, and might well have existed in the time of Elizabeth, it seems too strong and vigorous to have been a proper tree, in that age, for Hern the hunter to have danced round. Fairies, elves, and that generation of people, are universally supposed to select the most ancient and venerable trees to gambol under; and the poet who should describe them dancing under a sapling, would show very little acquaintance with his subject. That this tree could not be called a venerable tree two centuries ago is evident, because it can scarcely assume that character even now. And yet an Oak, in a soil it likes, will continue so many years in a vigorous state, that we must not lay more stress on this argument than it will fairly bear. It may be added, however, in its favour, that a pit, or ditch, is still shown near the tree, as Shakspeare describes it, which may have been preserved with the same veneration as the tree itself.

There is an Oak in the grounds of Sir Gerrard Van Neck, at Heveningham, in Suffolk, which carries us likewise into the times of Elizabeth. But this tree brings its evidence with it—evidence which, if necessary, might carry it into the Saxon times. It is now falling fast into the decline of years, and every year robs it more of its honours. But its trunk, which is thirty-five feet in circumference, still retains its grandeur, though the ornaments of its boughs and foliage are much reduced. But the grandeur of the trunk consists only in appearance; it is a mere shell. In Queen Elizabeth's time it was hollow, and from this circumstance the tree derives the honour of being handed down to posterity. That princess, who from her earliest years loved masculine amusements, used often, it is said, in her youth, to take her stand in this tree and shoot the deer as they passed. From that time it has been known by the name of Queen Elizabeth's Oak.