BRANCHING OUT

IN January 1991, a great storm raced across Ireland. Among the debris left in its wake were 12 of the ancient beech trees which had stood on the Pakenham family estate at Tullynally, Co Westmeath, for almost 200 years. For Thomas Pakenham "a tree lover, not an expert" the loss of those trees alerted him to the vulnerability of the earth's oldest living, and often dying, natural monuments.

"I was interested in them before that, having inherited rather a lot of trees when I came to live here in 1961." His interest led him to write Meetings With Remarkable Trees, a fine volume graced by the use of engravings by a 19th century artist, Jacob Strutt, author of Sylva Britannica (1826). Strutt proved vital to Pakenham. "There was no other source work like it," he says. "I don't intend my book as a polemic, it's a history, another form of history from the one I have been writing, but I would he happy if the book does make people look at trees more closely and have a re-think."

It is a personalised narrative, thematically arranged and full of interesting observations and information. Of the many trees discussed, the yew emerges as the most mythical, versatile, resilient and singular. The dendrologist Alan Mitchell, now dead, who spent 40 years studying the trees of Britain and Ireland, once told Pakenham. "Most trees look older than they are except for yews which are even older than they look." So it is the yew, not the most beautiful of trees, which dominates this hook, by virtue of its often surreal tenacity.

In 1990, he founded the Irish Tree Society and is far more knowledgeable about trees and plants than he admits "If I seem to know things," he cautions, "it is because I have asked experts."

He remarks on the relentlessness of genetic determination at work. But for the mighty trees on the estate, many of which have been at Tullynally as long as the Pakenham family itself, history as much as botany is at issue.

"It had come to the stage that we were losing beech with each gale, but that storm of 1991 was a real turning point for me. By then I had personally measured all the big beeches close to the house and remember wishing them good luck the night before the forecasted storm. I found myself hugging these huge trees and it was distressing coming out the next morning and discovering the ones that had fallen in the night."

He is a working writer from a family of writers. "My mother (Lady Elizabeth Longford), my sister (Antonia Fraser) and myself are seen as the heavy brigade producing great, heavy history books." For him, an interest in history would seem to be unavoidable. As the eldest son of the seventh earl of Longford, Pakenham came to live at Tullynally after the death of his uncle Edward, who had devoted much of his life to the fortunes of the Gate Theatre and died childless.

Pakenham's comfortable lifestyle appears modest enough, almost functional. He and his wife, writer Valerie Pakenham, have raised their four children at the castle with, it seems, the minimum of fuss but a lot of fun and the freedom of open spaces. The large wooden rocking horse in the great hall appears to have seen its share of active service. Open to the public since 1968, Tullynally pays for itself about 30,000 visitors explore the grounds and gardens yearly. As for his writing, "the books pay for the projects".

Questions about the aristocracy and titles embarrass him. "I don't like titles, they are divisive," he says. He has no intention of using the family title when he succeeds to it.

A slight, anxious man, he is very careful and exact. Should the least doubt arise about a reference, Pakenham goes to check his sources. "I'm a plodder, I see myself as a marathon runner. I write slowly and enjoy the research, working in the old fashioned way. But having written three histories each of which had enormously extensive sources, I found writing the tree book quite frustrating in one aspect as there were so few sources. Even people living near some of the trees knew absolutely nothing about them. No records were kept."

Pakenham was 27 when he took on the estate. "When my uncle died, my father knew that he didn't want to live here. I had known the place when I was younger, we had spent holidays here. But I always knew it as Uncle Edward's house."

Born in Buckinghamshire, he spent his early childhood in an Oxford suburb. He attended Belvedere College in Dublin before moving on to Ampleforth, later reading Mods and Greats at Magdelan College, Oxford. On graduating he was sent off on "a year's wandering" through Ethiopia and the Middle East. He spent six months in Ethiopia and on his return wrote his first book, The Mountains Of Rasselas (1959), a traditional travel account.

"It was a very exciting trip I was 21. But when I look back to that book now, I think it is mainly about travel. Now I would look more at the history. I'm going back to Ethiopia and would like to re do the book. Forty years on, I am more sure of myself. Perhaps my historical instincts have become sharper.

MEETINGS With Remarkable Trees lists 50 source texts in its bibliography by contrast he read thousands of documents and some 7,000,000 words for his study The Year Of Liberty - The History Of The Great Irish Rebellion of 1798 (1969). Ten years went into researching The Boer War (1978) which cites a bibliography extending to 400 books and more than 100 sets of unpublished papers. In an effort to understand Boer sources at first hand, he also learnt to read Afrikaans.

Twelve years in the making, his epic The Scramble For Africa (1991) drew on hundreds of books and papers written in English, French, German, Dutch and Flemish. "I see my books as a trilogy telling the story of these specific moments of imperial crisis." Soon after publishing The Year Of Liberty, he was approached to write a biography of Wolfe Tone. "I decided against it. He's a wonderfully theatrical character. No one could resist him. But he writes so well about himself, there's a lot of Boswell in him. He's such delightful company and dominates 1798 although he is off stage for so much of it. And he adds ruefully, "there are very few Wolfe Tone figures in Scramble."

The tree book represents a change of direction, after years spent writing conventional history. "When I suggested it to my publisher I half expected him to think I was going through a mid life crisis of some kind. But I was very lucky he was interested."

Tullynally itself is dominated by rolling, austere parkland, an ideal setting for majestic trees. "It is wonderful landscape," says Pakenham. I think our part of Westmeath, the north west corner, is hugely underrated. I'm not complaining I like its quiet. It is a lovely place."

The drive is lined by oaks and beeches planted by Thomas Pakenham's grandmother to welcome her husband home from the Boer War. Some of Tullynally's finest trees, such as a magnificent beech close to the house which the family has named King Lir, look as if they belong in a story by J.R.R. Tolkien. The Tullynally Oak, known as the Squire's Walking Stick, is the tallest oak in the Republic.

Tullynally Castle itself is not beautiful and despite its glorious views, it is difficult to romanticise. It has been the home of the Pakenham family since the 17th century and probably began its existence as a fortified house. It was later transformed into a Georgian mansion for a period before successive generations turned it into a gothic revival castle. In 1840, while under the ownership of the third Earl of Longford, it became the castellated house it is today, the largest private residence of its type in Ireland.

Looking back towards his home from the shade of a great beech tree, Pakenham says in his thoughtful way, "I think the original house is contained somewhere within the present building."