principal wood from which bows were manufactured; some from taxis, arrangement, on account of the regular disposition of the leaves; and others again from toxicum, poison, from the deleterious properties attributed to it by ancient as well as modern writers. The English, as well as French names of this tree, seem both to have been formed from the Celtic word, iw, which signifies verdure, and was most probably applied to it, as being one of the few evergreens known to our ancestors. The trunk of the yew is very straight, and is divided, at a short distance from the ground, into numerous branches, which spread rather in an horizontal direction; sometimes they are closely intertwined. These, as well as the trunk, have the appearance of being grooved; the bark is thin, smooth, and peels off every year, being replaced by a fresh layer. The leaves are very narrow, and closely arranged in a double row on the branches. The berry forms a bright scarlet cup, of a thick pulpy substance, within it lies the seed, which is of a darker colour. This tree thrives best in a moist loamy soil, though it seldom exceeds thirty or forty feet in height. The peculiarity of its form, is owing to the lateral spread of the branches, and its dense mass of foliage, which is of the most sombre green. It is a very slowgrowing tree; and probably on this account, of great longevity; in fact, Evelyn tells us, it was regarded by our ancestors as a symbol of immortality, the tree being so lasting and always green. The wood is close grained, hard, and very elastic; on these accounts, it was preferred in the manufacture of bows, which, before the introduction of firearms, constituted the main artillery of an army. In the historical accounts of battles, we frequently find details of the valour and prowess of individual knights; and in these chivalrous descriptions, we are frequently led to overlook the fact, that it was generally by the skill of "the archers good," that the fate of the day was determined. This weapon is frequently alluded to in Scripture. Saul, the first king of Israel, was sore wounded of the archers." Ahab, too, received his death wound from a bow "drawn at a venture" in the heat of battle. "Jehu drew a bow with his full strength, and smote Jehoram between his arms; and the arrow went out at his heart, and he sunk down in his chariot." Numerous passages in the Psalms, likewise, prove that it was considered an important instrument in war. We find, too, from the histories of the Assyrians, Greeks, Romans, and other nations of antiquity, that the bow furnished one of their principal warlike weapons; and from passages both in Homer and Virgil, it appears that it was manufactured of yew. The Saxons introduced this weapon into England. Ascham, the preceptor to queen Elizabeth, who wrote a treatise on archery, quotes, "from an exceeding old chronicle, the which had no name, that what time as the Saxons came first into this realm, in king Vortigern's days, when they had been here a while, and at last began to fall out with the Britons, they troubled and subdued the Britons with nothing so much as with their bow and shafts, which weapons being strange, and not seen here before, was wonderful terrible unto them." Nor did the Saxons, when established in this country, neglect the use of these terrible weapons. The English archers were considered superior to those of any other country; indeed, it was their boast that none but an English yeoman could bend the long bow. The old ballads, which record the feats of the renowned Robin Hood, in "the good green wood," give numerous accounts of their dexterity in the use of this weapon. Many of the achievements recorded seem scarcely credible in these days; but there is no reason to doubt their truth. Nor will they so much astonish us, when accounted for in a way which furnishes another to the many proofs we already possess, of the incalculable benefit of early training in these points, where proficiency is desired. From the early age of seven years, it is said, the English youth were daily exercised in shooting at a mark; the bow was suited most carefully to their size and strength, and from time to time exchanged for one larger and stronger until "Each one a six-foot bow could bend, And far a cloth yard shaft could send." Good old Hugh Latimer describes his father carefully attending to this part of his education. "In my time, my poor father was as diligent to teach me to shoot, as to learn me any other thing; and so I think other men did their children: he taught me how to draw, to lay my body in my bow; and not to draw with strength of arms, as divers other nations do, but with strength of the body. I had my bows bought me, according to my age and strength; as I increased in them, so my bows were made bigger and bigger, for men shall never shoot well unless they be brought up in it it is a goodly art, a wholesome kind of exercise, and much commended in physic." From his and other accounts it would seem, that our countrymen had a peculiar method of using their weapon. They did not, like other nations, employ all their muscular strength in drawing the string with the right hand; but thrust the whole weight of the body into the horns of the bow, with the left. Hence the English term of bending, and the French of drawing the bow. So true was their aim, and so dreadful its effect, that Ascham_quotes a Scotch proverb, "That every English archer beareth under his girdle twenty-four Scots;" alluding to the number of arrows they carried in battle. It was probably owing to this superior skill, in the use of the principal weapon of those days, that we may, humanly speaking, trace the ascendency gradually acquired by Britain over her foreign enemies. This was very evident in most, if not all, of the battles in Scotland. Ireland, also, was conquered by the long bow; while the victories of Cressy, Poictiers, Agincourt, and others on the continent, were mainly owing to the prowess and dexterity of our archers. Sir Walter Scott graphically describes the awfully devastating effects produced by the discharge of their shafts, though he does not correctly describe the English method of drawing the bow. "Then stepped each yeoman forth a pace, And raised his left arm high: Nor paused on the devoted Scot Forth whistling came the grey goose wing, Nor mountain targe of tough bull hide, Lord of the Isles. Cant. 6. enjoining every man to have a bow in his house; and for the purpose of practising, targets were erected at different places. Newington Butts was one of these, and still retains the name then given it. The bow was usually tipped at each end with horn; the bow string made of hemp, flax, or silk. The arrows used in war were of ash; the heads of iron or steel the feathering was generally of goose quills, though sometimes of peacock's feathers. i The value of the yew has been much diminished since the introduction of firearms, although, on account of the excellent qualities of the wood, combined with its great durability, it is still prized for many useful purposes. It is a common saying in the New Forest, that " a post of yew will outlast a post of iron;" and when it can be procured in sufficient quantities, it is considered superior to any other wood for posts, pumps, pipes, etc., which are exposed to wet damp. But it is chiefly by the cabinet makers, and inlayers in wood, that this tree is now used. By the former it is considered the finest European wood, being smooth, hard, easy to split; of an orange or brown colour; and sometimes very beautifully grained. It is generally used in veneers or thin plates, which are glued upon a surface of a less valuable wood. or The sap wood, which is white and very hard, is much prized in inlaying; when dyed black, it assumes the appearance of ebony. Several large yew trees formerly grew on Boxhill; they were cut down about the close of the last century, and sold to the cabinet makers at a high price: half of one of them fetched fifty pounds. The yew is now principally cultivated in gardens, to form evergreen hedges, for which purpose it is well calculated, as it grows thick, and bears clipping well. It is admirably suited for underwood, as it is not injured by drippings from other trees. During the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, it was conSo important to the prosperity of Eng-sidered, by gardeners, as one of the best land was proficiency in this art considered, that even after the introduction of fire-arms, we find edicts issued by parliament for its encouragement. The last was in the reign of queen Elizabeth; it enforced a statute made by Henry VIII., trees for topiary work. This consisted in cutting the tree into all sorts of fantastic shapes, as beasts, birds, pyramids, and even human figures. Evelyn claims the merit of "having been the first who brought it into fashion." Pope humor 66 ously criticises this ridiculous custom in | The yew has the reputation of being poisonous; some indeed have affirmed that it is unsafe to sleep beneath its shade. 66 the solitary yew For ever dropping with unwholesome dew." almost distracted for the loss of her daughter, her chamber-maid, to comfort her, said, Surely, what she gave her was not the occasion of her death, and that she would adventure on it herself: she did so, and died also." Dr. Perceval, of Manchester, has also recorded a case, in which three children were poisoned by taking a dose of dried yew leaves, ignorantly administered by their mother, as a remedy for worms. Perhaps it is as much on account of the poisonous qualities attributed to this tree, as from its sombre appearance, that it has been generally described by poets as exciting gloomy and melancholy ideas. Blair, in addressing the Grave, thus describes it: "Well do I know thee by thy trusty yew, Cheerless, unsocial plant, that loves to dwell Certainly this tree has not the majestic grandeur of the oak, nor the airy gracefulness of the birch; the lofty lightness of the elm, or the drooping elegance of the willow; yet the ardent admirer of nature, under all her varied aspects, will find much to interest him in its appearance, to say nothing of the associations connected with its history. What can be more majestic than this mass of Pliny, and many other ancient writers, deep, sombre green, its feathery sprays, considered the berries to be a mortal enamelled with resplendent berries, poison, and relate several instances to prove that they were so; and, indeed, of the brightest coral; especially when which look from a distance, like beads affirm it was injurious to drink out of viewed standing amid the ruins of those vessels manufactured from yew wood. sacred fanes, whose rise, splendour, and Some, however, have considered that the tree they speak of was a species of that are long gone by," has witnessed and decay, this living monument of "the days cypress, and it seems now to be satisfac-survived. And what tree is better suittorily proved that there is no corrected for the place it generally occupies— ground for believing either the berries, the village churchyard being, as we or the wood to possess deleterious qualities. have already noticed, symbolical both of The leaves, shoots, and twigs, especially gloom and immortality. Its melancholy when green, notwithstanding, are highly injurious; and numerous instances have gloom well harmonizes with our feelings, when standing where, as Gray beaubeen recorded, in which they have proved tifully describes, fatal to cattle, who were suffered to browse on them. Evelyn relates a most melancholy instance of death, from drinking a decoction of yew. "A gentlewoman that had long been ill without any benefit from the physician, dreamed that a friend of hers, deceased, told her mother, that if she gave her daughter a drink of yew pounded, she should recover it was accordingly given her, and she presently died. The mother being "Beneath the rugged elms, the yew tree's shade, Each, in his narrow cell for ever laid, Then our mournful musings will natu- the earth on which they once walked or played. We reflect on the desolation which that fell destroyer has made, and remember that death entered into the world as "the wages of sin,' " and is daily "passing upon all men, for that all have sinned." We recollect, with solemn awe, that our own summons must one day come, and the place which has known us, know us no more again for ever; and that we know not how near that time may be. But the venerable tree, which so well accords with our gloomy sadness, may also raise the mind to brighter thoughts. It is the symbol of immortality. We gaze on it and remember "the illustrious Deliverer of mankind," who "suffered death upon the cross for our redemption; and made there, (by his one oblation of himself, once offered,) a full, perfect, and sufficient sacrifice, oblation, and satisfaction for the sins of the whole world ;" and thus "abolished death, and brought life and immortality to light through the gospel." When able, with the eye of faith, to realize our own individual interest in that great salvation, death, no longer viewed as the king of terrors, is regarded as the messenger of our heavenly Father, to summon his absent children. Instead of regarding death with the infidel, as annihilation, or a last long sleep, we shall contemplate it as the dark but short entrance into everlasting life; and, having this hope, which maketh not ashamed, may well exclaim, with the humble and triumphant rapture of the apostle Paul, "O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? The sting of death is sin; and the strength of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ," 1 Cor. xv. 55-57. "The funeral yew, the funeral yew! How many a fond and tearful eye These living plumes by nature spread, Its grief beneath the funeral yew. "The branch of yew! its tints divide The sparkling glow of early bloom; Through thy dark foliage, mournful yew !" * Most of the old yew trees, with which we are acquainted, are found in churchyards, or upon sites once dedicated to religious worship. Many different reasons have been assigned for this, some supposing that the boughs were used for decorating the church at Christmas, or carried in religious processions on Palm Sunday. One writer thinks they were placed there for greater security, on account of the value of the wood for making bows. Others, again, have explained it by a practice which still prevails in some of the secluded districts of England and Wales, that of carrying branches of yew in funeral procession, and casting them into the grave with the corpse. But a yet more probable reason has been given, which also accounts for the fact of superstitious veneration being paid to this tree beyond any other evergreen. It would seem, from an ancient Welsh code, that our pagan ancestors were accustomed to perform some religious rite, by which the value of the yew tree was greatly enhanced; for we find that "a consecrated yew" was estimated as worth one pound; a wood yew tree one shilling and three-pence. know that the rites of paganism were generally performed in the open air, under the shade of a tree, or a grove of trees. Frequent mention is made in Scripture of the latter, in connexion with idolatry. It is therefore highly probable that to these consecrated yew trees the people were accustomed to resort for religious purposes. We find, too, that the missionaries sent to these islands, by pope Gregory VII,, were expressly enjoined, not to destroy the heathen temples, but only to change the worship performed there. It is most likely, then, that these spots, being already regarded as sacred by the people, should have been selected by them as sites for the churches erected for the service of the one living and true God. Nor will it diminish our interest in the venerable yews which shelter our churches, to consider them as, if not the identical, yet the off We * Mr. Brand explains this custom in the following probable and beautiful way :-"The Romans and other heathens, upon this occasion, made use of cypress, which, being once cut, will never flourish or grow any more, as an emblem of their dying for ever, and being no more in life. But instead of that, the ancient Christians used the things before mentioned, (various sorts of evergreens;) they laid them under the corpse in the grave, to signify, that they who die in Christ do not cease to live. For though, as to the body, they die to the world, yet, as to their souls, they live to God." spring of the very trees to which our forefathers paid their idolatrous worship. The yew possesses the power of perpetuating itself; it may therefore be considered as of lasting duration, and this, in addition to the reasons we have already mentioned, may account for the adoption of this tree as the symbol of immortality. This property has been established in a very interesting manner. In the interior of several old yew trees, especially those in the churchyards of Llanthewy Vach, near Caerleon, and Mamhilad, near Pontypool, have been found an inner trunk, more or less perfect, quite distinct from the outer and decaying one, although united to it by a large branch at the summit. This remarkable circumstance, which for some time excited much astonishment, was at length explained, by finding, in one of the yews at Portbury, near Bristol, that a small shoot, from the base of a bough, had grown downwards into the decayed part of the tree, and, when pulled up, was found to be a perfect root. Had this been allowed to remain, it would, no doubt, have descended gradually but surely to the ground, nourished by the decaying wood, leaves, and other rubbish, which from time to time accumulate in the old trunk of a tree. As the trunk decayed and became hollow, the mould, or soil, would fall out through the cleft, and the young shoot become, by the effects of light and air, a perfect stem covered with bark, and annually depositing layers of wood to increase its size, till at length producing leaves and branches, it would overtop its sheltering parent, ready to fill its place, and surviving it for centuries, in due time would produce in its turn a successor. There are yew trees in Great Britain, distinguished for their size, or some interesting historical circumstances. The largest, probably now existing, is in Harlington churchyard, and which we have already mentioned, although it is now allowed to assume a more natural appearance. It is fifty-eight feet high, the trunk nine feet, and the head fifty feet in diameter. Mr. Pennant mentions a prodigious yew tree at Fortingal, in the Highlands, which measured fifty-three feet and a half in circumference. It is still standing, though now completely decayed and riven into two distinct parts: and the country people are accustomed to carry between them the bodies brought to be interred in the churchyard, Evelyn speaks of one at Crowhurst, which was ten yards in compass; and another at Brabourne churchyard, which was fiftyeight feet in circumference. The most interesting yew trees, are perhaps those of Fountains Abbey, not only on account of their age and size, but from their historical connexion with that venerable pile. The abbey was founded under the auspices of Thurston, archbishop of York, by certain Benedictine monks, who desired, from conscientious scruples, to leave their own monastery at York, and adopt the more severe discipline of the Cistercian order, then recently introduced into England. The archbishop, at Christmas 1132, being at Ripon, assigned them some land in the neighbourhood of Ripon, which 'had never been inhabited, except by wild beasts, being overgrown with wood and brambles, lying between two steep hills and rocks, covered with wood on all sides." This was called Skelldale, from a rivulet which ran through the vale. Having elected an abbot, "they withdrew into this uncouth desert, without any house to shelter them in that winter season, or provisions to subsist on, but entirely depending on Divine Providence. There stood a large elm in the midst of the vale, on which they put some thatch or straw, and under that they laid, ate, and prayed; the bishop, for a time, supplying them with food, and the rivulet with drink. Part of the day some spent in making wattles to erect a little oratory; while others cleared some ground to make a little garden. But it is supposed they soon changed the shelter of their elm for that of seven yew trees," (we can be at no loss to account for such a change, especially during the winter season,) "growing on the declivity of the hill, on the south side of the abbey, all standing at this time, (1658,) except the largest, which was blown down about the middle of the last century. They are of extraordinary size, the trunk of one of them is twenty-six feet six inches in circumference at three feet from the ground; and they stand so near each other, as to form a cover almost equal to a thatched roof. Under these trees, we are told by tradition, the monks resided till they had built the monastery; and, as the hill side was covered with wood, which is now almost all cut down, it seems as if these trees were left standing to perpetuate the memory of the monks' habitation there." |