Part 8

At Ellwood Johnson’s we shall halt for a moment to partake of his sparkling spring water, and note a pear tree of Revolutionary days which yet spreads its branches over a charming spring-house. Here until the storm which overthrew Christ Church steeple, stood an old willow (salix babylonica) with a trunk 5½ feet in diameter, and one of the first weeping willow trees planted in America, a notable specimen which outliving its strength was felled by the great wind of the storm referred to, but now a scion from its roots has risen to preserve its memory.

Also here among many notable plants is a fine specimen of the rare clammy locust (robinia viscosa), and the largest hazelnut (corylus Americana) I have ever seen, a plant of 20 feet in height, and covering a large area.

Passing Concord School, its nature-loving pupils, George Lippard and William E. Meehan, with other associations of interest to plant students, we halt at “Pomona Grove” to present a plant which should not be forgotten, for “Pomona” and its charms are now a memory. At the northeast corner of what is now Baynton street and Pomona terrace once stood a yew, which by those competent to judge was considered remarkable. No one has been able to definitely state where this tree came from, nor when it was planted. All agree that it was a mature imported plant and was placed at “Pomona” by Col. Thomas Forrest. There need be no mystery, however, for it is well known a yew grows rapidly for 20 or more years, more slowly for a hundred years, after which period it exists in a practically stationary condition.

Prof. Thomas Meehan pronounced the Pomona yew the finest he had ever seen, and his ripe knowledge and wide travels gave a distinct value to the opinion. This plant was in perfect condition, covered a circle of 13 feet diameter, and stood at a height of 20 feet.

“Alas, that vandal hands should tear away The ancient landmarks dear to other days, And spoil the verdurous temples in a day, Which nature took so many years to raise!”

It is to be forever regretted that the efforts of our Germantown Horticultural Society to secure this gem for Market Square failed, for it rather than objectionable intrusions now there, would better serve the purposes for which the block was set apart.

We have, however, near Market Square in the garden of Elliston P. Morris, a small, but perfect and very beautiful specimen of English yew, identical in variety with the plant so unfortunately lost.

Continuing--we pass Miss Arrott’s select school, which was once a barn, and Leonard Stoneburner’s house and farm, he an active citizen, whose pride lay rather in the speed of his horses than in “crops” and trade and politics, all of which claimed a large share of his attention; also passing Naaman K. Ployd’s garden, and his numerous plants of more than local interest--we soon reach “Cliveden,” first occupied as a country seat by Chief Justice Chew in the year 1763. This is the battleground’s centre, and is sacred because of the men who died there; but while appreciating this, let us work and pray for a time when war shall be considered a crime, and the taking of human life for any cause, murder. At “Cliveden” there are now no plants of the Revolutionary period, and many of its finest shrubs have been planted within my memory.

“Growing close against the Chew mansion a beautiful rose of Japan. It is certainly at least 75 years old, and has delighted all who have seen it by the quality and beauty of its large red blossoms,” so noted William E. Meehan. Mrs. Chew wrote me: “There were a number of magnificent English elms, a row along the front of the place near the street, extending as far as Upsal street, and another row along Cliveden street.”

Near the barn there is at present an elm (ulmus campestris), a sole representative of the trees indicated. The street “trees were killed by wanton boys when the family temporarily left the place about 40 years ago,” and by the fathers I doubt not of the “Dog-towners,” who stoned every Rittenhouse School boy of my own class reckless enough to venture alone into the reserved precincts of “Beggarstown.” Here is a beautiful specimen of European larch (larix Europaea), and to continue with Mrs. Chew, “the tulip poplars on the west side of the house were planted by Blair McClanachan during the few years after the battle that he owned the property. The oak on the lawn in front of the house was planted about 70 years ago by one of the family.”

The pine tree (pinus rigida) on the front lawn “may be accounted for in the following way, I think, although I do not positively know. Mr. Chew, the son of the Chief Justice, owned a number of very fine farms in New Jersey, and his tenants there were of the same family for generations, and they were on the most kind and friendly terms with Mr. Chew. I imagine that this tree when very small may have been brought as a gift to Mr. Chew by one of his tenants, and there planted by Mr. Chew himself.”

Surviving on Upsal street is a companion pine, which from its position gives strength to this opinion, for these trees appear to have been twins planted in “Cliveden” equi-distant.

“Upsala,” opposite, which we all know well by name, possesses several of our finest and most notable plants. Miss Sally W. Johnson, who owns and occupies it, generously gave me an account of its rare home plants, which we may now only present in outline. Among these plants were grapes planted and cared for by Dr. Johnson, a very large white flowering camellia, a white flowering sweet jasmine, a laurestinas, a daphne, not equal to the one which Miss Ann Chew had in her hall by the front window. Of her garden, Miss Johnson’s account is so interesting that I cannot deny myself the pleasure of quoting. In it “there were in summer Bordeaux lilies, and varlotta purpurea, a handsome red clustered lily, and agapanthus with their odd shade of lavender blue; funkias, vincas, oriental poppies in garden beds, and the ‘York and Lancaster’ rose still blooms, though it is a curious dwarf. The Marie Louise, a sweet light pink rose, has lived on all through the garden for I am sure the past hundred years. I try to replace the trees or plants that have died. There was once a double row of white Hawthorn to the Johnson street entrance. The red berries were so bright, and made a charming English decoration for Christmas. A double pink hawthorne was a very fine tree.”

“The fringe tree was an old favorite, arching gracefully over the middle walk, and when gone was replaced by another, and a group of tartarian honeysuckle is still blooming every spring after the daffodils and cowslips and double low buttercups with their mottled shiny leaves, periwinkles and lilies of the valley were in every shady spot, and the late summer was gorgeous with phlox--the hardy--and Drummondii, larkspurs, tritoma, trumpet vine, and the like.”

Though many of “Upsala’s” best trees are no more, here yet are several of which we may be justly proud. The once well-known creeping yew is gone, and the silver fir planted in 1800, which reached 100 feet in height, a plant figured and described in A. J. Downing’s “Landscape Gardening,” was removed several years ago, and a memorial apolinian fir was planted in its place.

Here is a famous American yew, a plant distinct from English yew; a noted catalpa, a dwarf spruce, a handsome tulip-poplar, a number of towering white pines, an exceedingly fine cryptomeria or Japan cedar, which greatly excels specimens at “Fairfield,” at Edward Hacker’s on Wister street, at Peter Keiffer’s on Livezey’s lane; and here is a California redwood or “big-tree” (sequoia gigantea), a plant now about 25 feet in height, the rarest, and so far as known to me, the only specimen of a size worthy of consideration in Philadelphia. This tree, now showing the effects of last winter’s unusual frost, stands directly in front of the mansion, and my prayer is that “Upsala” unaltered, and its owner in health and “perpetual youth,” may continue until it attains the proportions of its most illustrious progenitors.

Time presses upon us, so we shall pass rapidly Billmyer house, where are beautiful specimens of locust (robinia pseudacacia), walnut and honey-locust (gleditschia triacanthos); Peter Leibert house, where are fair Norway spruce, horse-chestnut and silver maple; the Church of the Brethren grounds, where grow four of our finest trees, two larch trees, each 2 feet in diameter and 60 feet high, and two coffee trees of magnificent development, plants 2 feet in diameter by 80 feet high each; several striking plants of merit at Peter D. Hinkle’s; St. Michael’s Lutheran Church grounds, where is a superb specimen of Irish yew (taxus, var. Hibernica), resembling, but in beauty far exceeding, similar plants at St. Vincent de Paul’s Church, and Lower Burying Ground; Phil-Ellena, the one-time residence of George W. Carpenter, whose garden of home gardens, if not the greatest, was at least the one most widely known, but its rare plants are now distributed and its notable trees in the main leveled to accommodate “Pelham,” a late product of capital and change.

At George Hesser or William M. Bayard house, opposite, is a number of fine box-bordered walks, an impressive linden resembling the linden in Concord Burying Ground, and a picturesque white pine, but these without further mention we shall neglect to stop briefly at Joseph Meehan’s, on Pleasant street, and at Meehans’ nursery on Main street, the latter once located at the southeast corner of Meehan avenue, where numerous plants now beautifying home streets and gardens were first grown.

Among Joseph Meehan’s “wild plants” is a handsome aster, discovered by this botanist near Gettysburg, Pa., a plant which for several years has been growing in his garden. As yet the “authorities” have not decided upon a name, so we shall present it as aster Meehani.

Here also is a specimen of the rare Franklin tree (gordonia pubescens), and with the exception of a like specimen at Meehans’ nurseries, and another near Horticultural Hall, also one raised by William De Hart and now growing near Lansdowne, it is the finest specimen I know.

In our “Flora,” I have referred to the parent of this tree, which was a scion of the plant brought from South Carolina by William Bartram. The original plant, abused at Bartram Garden after the retirement of Colonel Carr, was rescued and revived by William De Hart at his garden on Darby road, where it grew for several years. It was then presented to Joseph Meehan, on whose grounds, its energy spent, it struggled through a precarious existence to an honored death--truly an interesting record of the most remarkable plant in botanical nomenclature.

From Main street nursery Thomas Meehan removed to “Hongs’ Farm,” on Chew street. His partner, William Saunders, located first on Johnson street, near Greene street, and later took charge of the experimental gardens at Washington. At the Chew street nurseries are many of the choicest and most notable plants in America, specimens from which plates of the “Flowers and Ferns of the United States” were figured; indeed so many “new and rare plants” that I shall leave them, trusting that Joseph Meehan may favor us with a paper upon the same, and at present we shall be content with reference to a few valuable ones I think him likely to ignore--namely, cut-leaved plum (prunus myrobolana, var. dissectum); halesia Meehani or silver-bell, a species of shrub or small tree bearing beautiful white bell-shaped flowers; weeping dog-wood (cornus F., var. pendula), and rose-flowering dog-wood (cornus F., var. flore rubro), all distinct varieties originating at these widely known and justly famed nurseries.

I had thought to completely cover our territory, but within the “time limit” this I have found impossible. There are many “estates” of merit with us to which I have not referred, and on them and elsewhere near are many deserving plants and odd growths I should like to introduce and enlarge upon, such as a cherry (prunus serotina) of immense proportions, situated on Fisher’s lane, near Lower Burying Ground; a very fine silver-bell tree on the grounds of George W. Russell, Seymour street near Morris street; two beautiful elms on Spencer’s Farm, and standing near the site of “Roberts’ mill” on Church lane, near Township Line road; the Henry Lenhart memorial stone in Market Square Church grounds, which since the year 1830 has been enveloped by the root growth of a silver maple, and in its vise-like grip is supported vertically; several commemorative trees, emblems of affection, such as the purple beech and white pine trees planted on Greene street near Coulter street by “Dr. Rivinis, a grandson of the botanist for whom Rivinia or rouge plant” was named; and the “Mollie Middleton,” “Helen T. Longstreth” and numerous other marked trees in the Wissahickon; an exceedingly fine American aspen on the grounds of Dr. Daniel Karsner, Tulpehocken and Greene streets; a group of large pine trees at Adams street and Washington lane; the wild goose lily treasured by Ellwood Johnson, a unique plant resembling, but quite distinct from Hemerocallis Flava of our gardens; a valuable and perfectly formed Norway maple, situated on Chew street, near Washington lane, a tree which always leads its kind in leaf and flower; an immense hawthorn (crataegus oxyacantha) on Magnolia street, near Johnson street; individual paulownia (paulownia imperialis), catalpa (catalpa bignonioides), and smoke trees (rhus cotinus) of merit, conspicuous in many places throughout our domain; a celebrated Irish yew once standing beside the Carpenter Mansion at Phil-Ellena; a white oak of remarkable growth showing a trunk 5 feet in diameter, a height of 60 feet, and having an immense limb tapering from 2 feet in diameter, 32 feet long, projecting horizontally for its entire length, and completely spanning Rabbit lane, east of E. Rittenhouse Miller’s place; a magnolia, the product of skill if not art, flourishing on James E. Gowen’s grounds at Main street and Gowen avenue, a monstrosity formed by the union of a circle of plants drawn together at about 3 feet above the earth and united, rising in a central trunk, reminding one of Alexander Pope and his strange fancies at Twickenham; a curious seat at “The Cherries” at Spring-bank, naturally supported by the outgrowth of two oak trees,--and near the same spot, a storm-cleft chestnut tree, which strangely has renewed itself; many rare and beautiful magnolias, such as may be seen at Mrs. Taws’, West Tulpehocken street, at Thomas Meehan’s, at “Wyck,” at William Heft’s, and in general distribution throughout our territory; “cut-leaved” plants in variety, such as may be seen on Baynton street, near Walnut lane, at Chelten avenue and Godfrey street, and at many places elsewhere; Kilmarnock willows and “weeping plants” innumerable; rare plants at Miller & Yates’; the celebrated “paragon chestnut” of William L. Schaeffer, a variety of Spanish chestnut (castanea vesca) which originated on what is now the Institution for the Deaf and Dumb grounds, and obtained wide celebrity; fern-leaved beech (fagus, var. asplenifolia) at Edward S. Buckley’s, and weeping beech (fagus, var. pendula) at C. B. Dunn’s, with another noted one at Thomas C. Price’s, all of Chestnut Hill; Caleb Cope’s garden “grotto” and valuable plants; the “new garden” of John T. Morris on Wissahickon, a botanical garden in every respect save name; and many unique plants stationed throughout the length and breadth of the Wissahickon region.

But among our superabundance it has been possible only to mark a few guide posts to point the way to all who care “to lead or follow” to a possession which in other parts is suggested only by such rich old settlements as Alexandria, West Chester and some New England towns, but not any of which, so far as I have been able to observe, is able to approach the treasure ever present with us. Much that we desire to present we thus are obliged to curtail or ignore, and with one more thought we shall conclude.

When visitors of distinction called upon George W. Childs at “Wootten,” they invariably were requested to plant a tree. The custom is a pleasing one, worthy of imitation, and should be encouraged. Wrote Thomas Meehan: “trees are associated with our dearest memories and most important events.” Abroad memorial and historic trees are so numerous that we refer to them only for illumination, and in our own country we have the “Charter Oak” of Connecticut, the famous “Elm of Cambridge,” and the “Treaty Tree” of Philadelphia. Other trees quite as important, but not so well known, are the “Liberty Tree” of Newport, the mulberry tree of Maryland under which the first settlers met to establish a government, and the plane tree of Burlington, to which New Jersey colonists tied ship before the founding of Philadelphia.

Stop soon we must, and passing many home plants of tender associations, I shall select one, and close with mention of a memorial tree near Kitchen’s bridge in the Wissahickon, a pin oak (quercus palustris), planted “Arbor Day, 1903, by the pupils of Andrew G. Curtin Public School in memory of Thomas Meehan, the friend of boys and girls.” No truer words than these were ever penned, but let us not limit, for Thomas Meehan was a friend to all--the world is better because he lived, and there is no one in Germantown this day who does not enjoy the fruit of his great work.

So we pass, and although our list of plants is indicative only, and those named but meagrely “presented,” yet we trust enough has been noted to direct attention to the beautiful creations placed before us to enjoy. We have no need to covet or compare, for in a magnificent fullness we have what others have not, and while we envy not nor desire another less, let us for ourselves strive to deserve the favors so bountifully given us, and take lesson, for false accumulations are vanity, so let us spurning the selfishness of the few who ignore the rights of the many, find pleasure in pursuits which no abuse is able to restrict nor monopoly to control, for when schemers and their usurpations are no more, nature incorruptible and unalterable will continue steadfast on her way.

Now as I go about our “village,” developed to a full-fledged town, I rejoice that we have so much for the enjoyment of the many, and so little that is not as free as our own desires. As of old, our common highway follows its tortuous course, and although peach and weeping willow and lombardy poplar trees of long ago have vanished, other trees of sturdier mould have risen to take their place. Large, substantial houses in the ripeness of age continue with us, but those who built them sleep in our shaded graveyards, and we may decipher their names on bleached and weather-beaten decomposing stone. Lofty trees planted by those who “have gone before,” in “the fullness of time” stand as monuments to them, and as friends to us to shade and protect.