STRAWBERRIES: THE FIVE SPECIES AND THEIR HISTORY
The conscientious Diedrich Knickerbocker, that venerated historian from
whom all good citizens of New York obtain the first impressions of
their ancestry, felt that he had no right to chronicle the vicissitudes
of Manhattan Island until he had first accounted for the universe of
which it is a part. Equally with the important bit of land named, the
strawberry belongs to the existing cosmos, and might be traced back to
"old chaos." I hasten to re-assure the dismayed reader. I shall not
presume to follow one who could illumine his page with genius, and
whose extensive learning enabled him to account for the universe not
merely in one but in half a dozen ways.
It is the tendency of the present age to ask what is, not what has been
or shall be. And yet, on the part of some, as they deliberately enjoy a
saucer of strawberries and cream,--it is a pleasure that we prolong for
obvious reasons,--a languid curiosity may arise as to the origin and
history of so delicious a fruit. I suppose Mr. Darwin would say, "it
was evolved." But some specimens between our lips suggest that a Geneva
watch could put itself together quite as readily. At the same time, it
must be said that our "rude forefathers" did not eat Monarch or Charles
Downing strawberries. In few fruits, probably, have there been such
vast changes or improvements as in this. Therefore, I shall answer
briefly and as well as I can, in view of the meagre data and
conflicting opinions of the authorities, the curiosity, that I have
imagined on some faces. Those who care only for the strawberry of
to-day can easily skip a few pages.
If there were as much doubt about a crop of this fruit as concerning
the origin of its name, the outlook would be dismal, indeed. In old
Saxon, the word was streawberige or streowberrie; and was so named,
says one authority, "from the straw-like stems of the plant, or from
the berries lying strewn upon the ground." Another authority tells us:
"It is an old English practice" (let us hope a modern one also) "to lay
straw between the rows to preserve the fruit from rotting on the wet
ground, from which the name has been supposed to be derived; although
more probably it is from the wandering habit of the plant, straw being
a corruption of the Anglo-Saxon strae, from which we have the English
verb stray." Again tradition asserts that in the olden times children
strung the berries on straws for sale, and hence the name. Several
other causes have been suggested, but I forbear. I have never known,
however, a person to decline the fruit on the ground of this obscurity
and doubt. (Controversialists and sceptics please take note.)
That the strawberry should belong to the rose family, and that its
botanical name should be fragaria, from the Latin fragro, to smell
sweetly, will seem both natural and appropriate.
While for his knowledge of the plant I refer the reader to every
hillside and field (would that I might say, to every garden!), there is
a peculiarity in the production of the fruit which should not pass
unnoted. Strictly speaking, the small seeds scattered over the surface
of the berry are the fruit, and it is to perfect these seeds that the
plants blossom, the stamens scatter, and the pistils receive the pollen
on the convex receptacle, which, as the seeds ripen, greatly enlarges,
and becomes the pulpy and delicious mass that is popularly regarded as
the fruit. So far from being the fruit, it is only "the much altered
end of the stem" that sustains the fruit or seeds; and so it becomes a
beautiful illustration of a kindly, genuine courtesy, which renders an
ordinary service with so much grace and graciousness that we dwell on
the manner with far more pleasure than on the service itself. The
innumerable varieties of strawberries that are now in existence appear,
either in their character or origin, to belong to five great and quite
distinct species. The first, and for a long time the only one of which
we have any record, is the Fragaria vesca, or the "Alpine" strawberry.
It is one of the most widely spread fruits of the world, for it grows,
and for centuries has grown, wild throughout Northern and Central
Europe and Asia, following the mountains far to the south; and on this
continent, from time immemorial, the Indian children have gathered it,
from the Northern Atlantic to the Pacific. In England this species
exhibits some variation from the Alpine type, and was called by our
ancestors the Wood strawberry. The chief difference between the two is
in the form of the fruit, the Wood varieties being round and the Alpine
conical. They are also subdivided into white and red, annual and
monthly varieties, and those that produce no runners, which are known
to-day as Bush Alpines.
[Illustration: SEEDS AND PULP OF THE STRAWBERRY]
The Alpine, as we find it growing wild, was the strawberry of the
ancients. It is to it that the suggestive lines of Virgil refer:--
"Ye boys that gather flowers and strawberries,
Lo, hid within the grass an adder lies."
There is no proof, I believe, that the strawberry was cultivated during
any of the earlier civilizations. Some who wrote most explicitly
concerning the fruit culture of their time do not mention it; and
Virgil, Ovid, and Pliny name it but casually, and with no reference to
its cultivation. It may appear a little strange that the luxurious
Romans, who fed on nightingales' tongues, peacocks' brains, and scoured
earth and air for delicacies, should have given but little attention to
this fruit. Possibly they early learned the fact that this species is
essentially a wildling, and like the trailing arbutus, thrives best in
its natural haunts. The best that grew could be gathered from
mountain-slopes and in the crevices of rocks. Moreover, those old
revellers became too wicked and sensual to relish Alpine strawberries.
Its congener, the Wood strawberry, was the burden of one of the London
street cries four hundred years ago; and to-day the same cry, in some
language or other, echoes around the northern hemisphere as one of the
inevitable and welcome sounds of spring and early summer.
But few, perhaps, associate this lovely little fruit, that is almost as
delicate and shy as the anemone, with tragedy; and yet its chief
poetical associations are among the darkest and saddest that can be
imagined. Shakespeare's mention of the strawberry in the play of
Richard III. was an unconscious but remarkable illustration of the
second line already quoted from Virgil:--
"Lo, hid within the grass an adder lies."
The bit of history which is the occasion of this allusion is given in
the quaint old English of Sir Thomas More, who thus describes the
entrance to the Council of the terrible "Protector," from whom nothing
good or sacred could be protected. He came "fyrste about IX of the
clocke, saluting them curtesly, and excusing himself that he had been
from them so long, saieing merily that he had been a slepe that day.
And after a little talking with them he said unto the bishop of Elye,
my lord, You have very good strawberries at your gardayne in Holberne,
I require you let us have a messe of them." He who has raised fine
fruit will know how eagerly the flattered bishop obeyed. According to
the poet, the dissembler also leaves the apartment, with his
unscrupulous ally, Buckingham.
"Where is my lord protector? I have sent
For these strawberries,"
said the Bishop of Ely, re-entering.
Lord Hastings looks around with an air of general congratulation, and
remarks:--
"His grace looks cheerfully and smooth this morning;
There's some conceit or other likes him well."
The serpent is hidden, but very near. A moment later, Gloster enters,
black as night, hisses his monstrous charge, and before noon of that
same day poor Hastings is a headless corpse.
Far more sad and pitiful are the scenes recalled by the words of the
fiendish Iago,--type for all time of those who transmute love into
jealousy:--
"Tell me but this--
Have you not sometimes seen a handkerchief,
Spotted with strawberries, in your wife's hand?"
"I gave her such a one; 'twas my first gift."
was the answer of a man whom the world will never forgive, in spite of
his immeasurable remorse.
From the poet Spenser we learn that to go a-strawberrying was one of
the earliest pastimes of the English people. In the "Faerie Queen" we
find these lines:--
"One day, as they all three together went
To the green wood to gather strawberries,
There chaunst to them a dangerous accident."
Very old, too is the following nursery rhyme, which, nevertheless,
suggests the true habitat of the F. vesca species:--
"The man of the wilderness asked me
How many strawberries grew in the sea;
I answered him, as I thought good,
'As many red herrings as grew in the wood.'"
The ambrosial combination of strawberries and cream was first named by
Sir Philip Sidney. Old Thomas Tusser, of the 16th century, in his work,
"Five Hundred Points of Good Husbandry united to as many of Good
Housewifery," turns the strawberry question over to his wife, and
doubtless it was in better hands than his, if his methods of culture
were as rude as his poetry:--
"Wife, into the garden, and set me a plot
With strawberry roots, of the best to be got;
Such, growing abroad, among thorns in the wood,
Well chosen and picked prove excellent good."
Who "Dr. Boteler" was, or what he did, is unknown, but he made a
sententious remark which led Izaak Walton to give him immortality in
his work, "The Compleat Angler." "Indeed, my good schollar," the serene
Izaak writes, "we may say of angling as Dr. Boteler said of
strawberries, 'Doubtless God could have made a better berry, but
doubtless God never did;' and so if I might be judge, God never did
make a more calm, quiet, innocent recreation than angling." If this was
true of the wild Wood strawberry, how much more so of many of our
aromatic rubies of to-day.
John Parkinson, the apothecary-gardener of London, whose quaint work
was published in 1629, is not so enthusiastic. He says of the wild
strawberry: "It may be eaten or chewed in the mouth without any manner
of offense; it is no great bearer, but those it doth beare are set at
the toppes of the stalks, close together, pleasant to behold, and fit
for a gentlewoman to wear on her arme, &c., as a raritie instead of a
flower."
In England, the strawberry leaf is part of the insignia of high rank,
since it appears in the coronets of a duke, marquis, and earl. "He
aspires to the strawberry leaves" is a well-known phrase abroad, and
the idea occurs several times in the novels of Disraeli, the present
British Premier. Thackeray, in his "Book of Snobs," writes: "The
strawberry leaves on her chariot panels are engraved on her ladyship's
heart."
After all, perhaps it is not strange that the Alpine species should be
allied to some dark memories, for it was the only kind known when the
age was darkened by passion and crime.
The one other allusion to the strawberry in Shakespeare is peculiarly
appropriate to the species under consideration. In the play of Henry
V., an earlier Bishop of Ely says:--
"The strawberry grows underneath the nettle,
And wholesome berries thrive and ripen best
Neighbored by fruit of baser quality."
And this, probably, is still true, for the Alpine and Wood strawberries
tend to reproduce themselves with such unvarying exactness that
cultivation makes but little difference.
All these allusions apply to the F. vesca or Alpine species, and little
advance was made in strawberry culture in Europe until after the
introduction of other species more capable of variation and
improvement. Still, attempts were made from time to time. As the Alpine
differed somewhat from the Wood strawberry, they were brought to
England about 200 years later than the tragedy of Lord Hastings' death,
which has been referred to.
In connection with the White and Red Wood and Alpine strawberries, we
find in 1623 the name of the "Hautbois" or Haarbeer strawberry, the
Fragaria elatior of the botanists. This second species, a native of
Germany, resembles the Alpine in some respects, but is a larger and
stockier plant. Like the Fragaria vesca, its fruit-stalks are erect and
longer than the leaves, but the latter are larger than the foliage of
the Alpine, and are covered with short hairs, both on the upper and
under surface, which give them a rough appearance. As far as I can
learn, this species still further resembles the Alpines in possessing
little capability of improvement and variation. Even at this late day
the various named kinds are said to differ from each other but
slightly. There is a very marked contrast, however, between the fruit
of the Hautbois and Alpine species, for the former has a peculiar musky
flavor which has never found much favor in this country. It is,
therefore, a comparatively rare fruit in our gardens, nor do we find
much said of it in the past.
There is scarcely any record of progress until after the introduction
of the two great American species. It is true that in 1660 a fruit
grower at Montreuil, France, is "said to have produced a new variety
from the seed of the Wood strawberry," which was called the "Cappron,"
and afterward the "Fressant." It was named as a distinct variety one
hundred years later, but it may be doubted whether it differed greatly
from its parent. Be this as it may, it is said to be the first improved
variety of which there is any record.
Early in the 17th century, intercourse with this continent led to the
introduction of the most valuable species in existence, the "Virginian"
strawberry (Fragaria Virginiana), which grows wild from the Arctic
regions to Florida, and westward to the Rocky Mountains. It is first
named in the catalogue of Jean Robin, botanist to Louis XIII., in 1624.
During the first century of its career in England, it was not
appreciated, but as its wonderful capacity for variation and
improvement--in which it formed so marked a contrast to the Wood
strawberry--was discovered, it began to receive the attention it
deserved. English gardeners learned the fact, of which we are making so
much to-day, that by simply sowing its seeds, new and possibly better
varieties could be produced. From that time and forward, the tendency
has increased to originate, name and send out innumerable seedlings,
the majority of which soon pass into oblivion, while a few survive and
become popular, usually in proportion to their merit.
The Fragaria Virginiana, therefore, the common wild strawberry that is
found in all parts of North America east of the Rocky Mountains, is the
parent of nine-tenths of the varieties grown in our gardens; and its
improved descendants furnish nearly all of the strawberries of our
markets. As we have seen, the Fragaria vesca, or the Alpine species of
Europe, is substantially the same to-day as it was a thousand years
ago. But the capacity of the Virginian strawberry for change and
improvement is shown by those great landmarks in the American culture
of this fruit,--the production of Hovey's Seedling by C. M. Hovey, of
Cambridge, Mass., forty-five years since; of the Wilson's Albany
Seedling, originated by John Wilson, of Albany, N. Y., about
twenty-five years ago, and, in our own time, of the superb varieties,
Monarch of the West, Seth Boyden, Charles Downing, and Sharpless.
As in the Alpine species there are two distinct strains,--the Alpine of
the Continent, and the Wood strawberry of England,--so in the wild
Virginian species there are two branches of the family,--the Eastern
and the Western. The differences are so marked that some writers have
asserted that there are two species; but we have the authority of
Professor Gray for saying that the Western, or Fragaria Illincensis, is
"perhaps" a distinct species, and he classifies it as only a very
marked variety.
There are but two more species of the strawberry genus. Of the first of
these, the Fragaria Indica, or "Indian" strawberry, there is little to
say. It is a native of Northern India, and differs so much from the
other species that it was formerly named as a distinct genus. It has
yellow flowers, and is a showy house-plant, especially for
window-baskets, but the fruit is dry and tasteless. It is said by
Professor Gray to have escaped cultivation and become wild in some
localities of this country.
Fragaria Chilensis is the last great species or subdivision that we now
have to consider. Like the F. Virginiana, it is a native of the
American continent, and yet we have learned to associate it almost
wholly with Europe. It grows wild on the Pacific slope, from Oregon to
Chili, creeping higher and higher up the mountains as its habitat
approaches the equator. "It is a large, robust species, with very firm,
thick leaflets, soft and silky on the under side." The flowers are
larger than in the other species; the fruit, also, in its native
condition, averages much larger, stands erect instead of hanging,
ripens late, is rose-colored, firm and sweet in flesh, and does not
require as much heat to develop its saccharine constituents; but it
lacks the peculiar sprightliness and aroma of the Virginia strawberry.
It has become, however, the favorite stock of the European gardeners,
and seems better adapted to transatlantic climate and soil than to
ours. The first mention of the Fragaria Chilensis, or South American
strawberry, says Mr. Fuller, "is by M. Frezier, who, in 1716, in his
journey to the South Sea, found it at the foot of the Cordillera
mountains near Quito, and carried it home to Marseilles, France." At
that time it was called the Chili strawberry, and the Spaniards said
that they brought it from Mexico.
From Mr. W. Collett Sandars, an English antiquarian, I learned that
seven plants were shipped from Chili and were kept alive during the
voyage by water which M. Frezier saved from his allowance, much limited
owing to a shortness of supply. He gave two of the plants to M. de
Jessieu, "who cultivated them with fair success in the royal gardens."
In 1727, the Chili strawberry was introduced to England, but not being
understood it did not win much favor.
Mr. Fuller further states: "We do not learn from any of the old French
works that new varieties were raised from the Chili strawberry for at
least fifty years after its introduction." Duchesne, in 1766, says that
"Miller considered its cultivation abandoned in England on account of
its sterility. The importations from other portions of South America
appeared to have met with better success; and, early in the present
century, new varieties of the F. Chilensis, as well as of the
Virginiana, became quite abundant in England and on the Continent."
If we may judge from the characteristics of the varieties imported to
this country of late years, the South American species has taken the
lead decidedly abroad, and has become the parent stock from which
foreign culturists, in the main, are seeking to develop the ideal
strawberry. But in all its transformations, and after all the attempts
to infuse into it the sturdier life of the Virginian strawberry, it
still remembers its birthplace, and falters and often dies in the
severe cold of our winters, or, what is still worse, the heat and
drought of our summers. As a species, it requires the high and careful
culture that they are able and willing to give it in Europe. The
majority of imported varieties have failed in the United States, but a
few have become justly popular in regions where they can be grown. The
Triomphe de Gand may be given as an example, and were I restricted to
one variety I should take this. The Jucunda, also, is one of the most
superb berries in existence; and can be grown with great profit in many
localities.
Thus the two great species which to-day are furnishing ninety-nine
hundredths of the strawberries of commerce and of the garden, both in
this country and abroad, came from America, the Fragaria Chilensis
reaching our Eastern States by the way of Europe, and in the form of
the improved and cultivated varieties that have won a name abroad. We
are crossing the importations with our own native stock. President
Wilder's superb seedling, which has received his name, is an example of
this blending process. This berry is a child of the La Constante and
Hovey's Seedling, and, therefore, in this one beautiful and most
delicious variety we have united the characteristics of the two chief
strawberry species of the world, the F. Virginiana and F. Chilensis.
It will be seen that the great law of race extends even to strawberry
plants. As in the most refined and cultivated peoples there is a strain
of the old native stock, which ever remains, a source of weakness or
strength, and will surely show itself in certain emergencies, so the
superb new varieties of strawberries, the latest products of
horticultural skill, speedily indicate in the rough-and-tumble of
ordinary culture whether they have derived their life from the hardy F.
Virginiana or the tender and fastidious F. Chilensis. The Monarch of
the West and the Jucunda are the patricians of the garden, and on the
heavy portions of my land at Cornwall I can scarcely say to which I
give the preference. But the Monarch is Anglo-Saxon and the Jucunda is
of a Latin race; or to drop metaphor, the former comes of a species
that can adapt itself to conditions extremely varied, and even very
unfavorable, and the latter cannot.