DECAY OF VARIETIES.—TWO THEORIES: KNIGHT’S, DOWNING’S.—ENGLISH THEORY
AND PRACTICE.—PRACTICAL DEDUCTIONS.—CAUSES OF DECAY.—REMEDIES.—HINTS
TO ORCHARDISTS.—SPECIAL MANURES.—PRUNING.—THOROUGH DRAINAGE.—A
SATIRICAL SKETCH.—SHOOTING THE APPLE-TREE.
It is known that many varieties of apples, which fifty years ago were
held in high esteem as healthy, hardy sorts, bearing abundantly very
superior fruit, have now but a very poor reputation, and varieties
which a hundred years ago were highly valued and extensively
cultivated, are now extinct. It is believed, too, that the most
celebrated old varieties that are yet cultivated, are much more
subject to canker than others; or, in other words, that trees of these
varieties are more easily affected by unfavourable circumstances, or
have a more delicate constitution.
[Sidenote: _VARIOUS THEORIES._]
To account for this, there are two theories held by different
scientific horticulturists. The first—which originated with the late
Mr. Knight, a distinguished vegetable physiologist of England, who
devoted much attention to the subject, and made a long series of
experiments upon it—may be stated as follows:
Each seedling tree has a natural limit to its life, and within that
will have a period of vigour, succeeded by a natural and inevitable
decline, corresponding to the gradually increasing feebleness which
attends the latter part of the natural life of a man. And all trees
also which have been propagated from such a seedling by means of buds
or grafts, or, in other words, all trees of the same variety, are to
be considered as merely extensions of that seedling, and will have
a cotemporary vigour and decline and decease with it. The period of
vigour or decline may be much extended by circumstances favourable
to the general health of any particular tree, and by unfavourable
influences it may be shortened: but however well situated, sooner or
later it will manifest feebleness by the change in the quality of its
fruit, the small quantity it is able to bear, by the decay of branches,
and especially by its liability to be attacked by diseases, such as the
canker, which rapidly destroy its remaining vitality. These diseases
may be guarded against, and may often be cured; but the longer the
period since the origin of the variety from a seed, the greater the
liability and the more difficult the cure.[2]
[2] Professor Turner, of Illinois College, advocates the view that
every time a seedling tree is divided, whether in root or top, its
natural longevity and proportionate vital force are proportionally
divided, abstracted, and shortened; and believes that some of the
worst forms of hereditary, and also of annual diseases, flow from a
succession of such mutilations through a series of generations, or are
produced by an effort of nature to resist and repair this interference
with her natural processes.
This theory is entirely discredited by other distinguished botanists
and horticulturists, among whom are Dr. Lindley in England, Decandolle
on the Continent, and Mr. Downing and H. W. Beecher in America.
These consider that there is no such similarity between the life of
a tree and the life of an animal, and that a bud and a seed contain
equally the germ of new life, that they are, in fact, the same
thing, except that they are prepared to be developed under different
circumstances. That each bud, twig, and branch, has a life of its own,
and the trunk is but an association of roots, or of connections between
each bud and its roots. It may be separated from this trunk as a seed
is, and will continue to live if ingrafted upon another trunk, where
it will connect itself again with the ground and grow, and through
it other independent lives will be produced and sustained. Or it may
be removed from its parent and placed upon the ground, where it will
make roots and extend and reproduce again as independently, in all
respects, as a seed. It is held that the death of trees does not arise
from any natural period being assigned to their existence, but that the
tissues of a tree, as they grow old, become dry and hard; no longer
transmit sap, lose their vitality and gradually decay; yet the process
of growth may continually be renewed exteriorly to this death, so that
large cavities will often exist in the interior of trees. As, however,
the peculiar natural food of the tree within the limits to which
it can extend its roots, becomes exhausted, or, as other unhealthy
circumstances affect it, its vital power and its re-vitalizing power
will be diminished, and finally may become extinct.
If, however, a bud or germ of a new branch can be taken from the tree
before its decay, or from any part of it that yet retains its vigour
and health, and be transplanted by means of cuttings in the earth, or
inoculations or grafts upon another healthy stock of the same species,
it will have all the vital energy, and, in every respect, all the
natural character, of a seedling.
[Sidenote: _SCROFULOUS TREES._]
In explanation of the general deterioration of certain favourite old
varieties, according to the theory of Downing and Lindley, their state
should be compared (taking care not to run the analogy too far into the
ground) to what is popularly understood as a _scrofulous_ condition of
human beings, rather than to the decrepitude of old age. From various
causes—want of proper food, unfavourable climate, propagation upon
unhealthy stocks, high feeding, and any unnatural stimulus producing
imperfect succulent growth, and from constant repropagation from
trees that have in a greater or less degree so suffered—the trees of
the variety have very generally lost their natural, strong, active,
resisting, and recuperative vital energy, and have a general tendency
to disease, which will be developed in different forms according to
circumstances. A wound upon a scrofulous subject is more difficult to
heal; exertion produces more fatigue, and rest brings less return of
strength. Food, which in its natural state would be most nourishing and
healthful, it can no longer digest, and it does it more harm than good;
exposure to cold, to malaria, or contagion, is more dangerous, and if
it escapes all acute disease it gradually grows more and more feeble
until finally it has “died of a decline.”
Sterility attends the decrepitude of age, but not the scrofulous
debility in man, neither does it the degeneracy of the old trees. But
the scrofulous habit is hereditary in man; so it is believed to be
in the old varieties. If, however, the scrofulous inheritance is not
very virulent, by a judicious course of regimen it may be gradually
overcome, and a strong vigorous constitution once more re-established.
So it is argued, and facts are cited that seem to sustain the position,
may the old varieties be restored to their pristine excellence, by
care to select scions from the most healthy trees, and from the
most vigorous parts of them, and to propagate these under the most
favourable circumstance for their healthy growth.
The predisposition to disease in these ill-treated trees _may_ result
in a contagious malady, and this may spread beyond them and attack
trees of ordinarily good constitution, and in the most salubrious
situations, though, of course, the liability of these to take the
malady, and their recuperative power under its attack, will be
proportionate to their strength and soundness. The disease known as
the yellows, in peach-trees, seems to be of this nature.
There are many facts unfavourable to both these theories, and many
phenomena which neither of them, in my opinion, satisfactorily explain.
The popular judgment in England seemed to have accepted Knight’s
hypothesis. But while every body was mourning over the degeneracy of
old favourites, the utter neglect or miserable mismanagement of their
orchards seemed to me to bear strong testimony to the correctness of
the contrary theory.
The practical deduction, it may be remarked, from either view, does
not greatly differ. By judicious management, the health, vigour, and
profit of a fruit-tree, which would otherwise, after a certain time,
pine away and die, may be greatly extended, if not made permanent;
and trees which are already failing from decrepitude or disease, may
be restored. On the other hand, if trees are planted in unhealthy
positions, insufficiently supplied with those materials that are
necessary to the formation of strong, compact wood; if they are cruelly
mutilated, crowded too close together, &c., they will not only be
feeble and unproductive, but will be particularly liable to the attacks
of vermin, disease, and parasites, and, in their weak condition, will
soon yield their life to these enemies. Moreover, the insects which are
bred in them will extend their ravages to surrounding trees, the seeds
from their parasites will be scattered over the neighbourhood, and the
disease which is generated in them may be indefinitely extended among
their species.
The most common causes of disease, decay, and decline of a fruit-tree,
which it is in the power of the orchardist, in a great degree, to
control, are these: the exhaustion from the soil of those materials
which are its necessary food; the attacks of vermin, and the growth of
moss or parasites; the loss of large limbs or other severe wounds;
too great exposure of the trunks to the sun; too rapid and succulent
growth from the stimulus of heat or exciting manures; and an impervious
subsoil, which will allow water frequently to stagnate about its roots,
producing what is commonly called by farmers “a cold, sour soil.”
Some of my readers, who have not studied the subject, may be glad to
have me concisely indicate the most approved means of avoiding or
counteracting these dangers.
[Sidenote: _SPECIAL MANURES._]
Manures should be applied to orchards frequently and in moderate
quantities, rather than in heavy supplies at distant intervals; and, to
avoid unhealthy stimulation, they should be well decomposed. The best
ordinary manure in the United States has been found to be a mixture of
dung with an equal quantity of peat or black swamp-earth, chip-dirt,
or rotten wood or leaves; and it is better that this compost should be
mixed some time (the longer the better) before it is applied.
But, in addition, I have shown from the English experience that the
apple-tree requires a more than ordinary supply of lime, (say a peck
of air-slaked stone or shell lime to each tree, every year.) In the
same way the pear is known to require especially potash, iron, and
phosphorus.
Iron is found in sufficient quantity in most clay soils; where needed
it may be supplied by scattering bog-ore, (found generally underlying
swamps in America,) or iron filings, or the sweepings and scoriæ from
forges. One pound of crude potash dissolved in water and poured over
the compost manure, or half-a-bushel of wood ashes, to a tree, will
be a good yearly allowance of potash; and half-a-peck of bones to a
tree will supply the phosphorus. For the plum and the quince, salt is
found particularly useful, and ashes for the peach. But let it not be
forgotten that the apple cannot live on lime alone, nor the peach
on potash, only that it is a special supply of these that they more
particularly require.[3]
[3] Copperas (sulphate of iron) seems to act as a tonic upon trees.
If applied to feeble, pale-leaved shrubs and trees, it will often
wonderfully invigorate them. It may be dissolved in water. A mild
solution of sulphate or muriate of ammonia has a similar effect, but
must be used with care.
The Herefordshire orchards suffer much more from moss, parasites, and
insects, and less pains are taken to guard against them or to destroy
them than is usual in New England. There is a fine moss that will
not easily be detected, that often collects upon the branches, and,
diverting the juices of the tree to its own nourishment, eventually,
if not removed, destroys the bark; and limbs are seen frequently thus
denuded of their natural defence, and the wood consequently decaying.
This is doubtless a common cause of organic disease. The ordinary
preventive and remedy for every thing of this sort is to wash the trunk
and principal limbs of the tree every year with a weak lye—in which it
is a good plan to put a little sulphur—all insects having a particular
repugnance to it.[4] If there is much dead, scaly bark, it should be
first rubbed or scraped off.
[4] 1 lb. of potash, _or_ 1 quart soft soap; and 4 oz. sulphur, to 1
gallon of water.
Trees should be allowed to branch low and naturally. The “trimming up”
and unnatural exposure to the sun of the trunk of the pear-tree is
known to particularly predispose it to a most fatal malady. Where trees
are properly managed while young, it will never be necessary to prune
their limbs in our climate; and there can scarcely ever be a case where
the cutting off a limb larger than a man’s arm will not be likely to do
more harm than good. Wherever it is done, or wherever a large branch
has been blown off, the stump should be squared off neatly, and a salve
of clay and cow-dung spread over it and secured upon it by a cap of
canvas or sheet-lead. Smaller stumps should be covered with paint, or
with a coating of shellac dissolved in alcohol.
Too rapid and succulent growth, making imperfectly formed wood, through
which the future processes of the growth of the tree or the fruit
formation will be inefficiently performed, is occasioned either by too
stimulating food in the soil, or by a forcing heat in the climate which
excites a growth unnatural to the original habit of the tree. There are
also probably other yet unexplained causes for it. The preventive must
be determined by the cause. The immediate remedy is shortening-in with
a knife one-quarter or one-half of the growth of each year. This is
absolutely necessary to the successful cultivation of the peach in many
situations in the United States, and, as I have shown, is sometimes
used as a remedy for canker in the apple-tree in England.[5]
[5] The principal enemy of the peach-tree is the borer, a worm which
works under the bark, near the surface of the ground. Its presence may
be known by the exudation of gum. Trees should be examined for it every
spring and fall, and it may be easily pricked out and killed with a
sharp-pointed knife.
[Sidenote: _UNDER-DRAINING ORCHARDS._]
Too retentive a subsoil, or a cold, sour, malarious bed for the roots
of an orchard, is only to be remedied by under-draining. Mr. Thompson,
of the London Horticultural Society, gives a striking instance of the
profit which may attend this operation.
Having detailed several experiments, he remarks that “want of drainage
deprives the roots of proper nourishment, subjects them to a chilling
temperature, and forces them to absorb a vitiated fluid.” He then
describes an orchard planted, in 1828, upon a retentive marly clay. He
says, “the trees grew tolerably well for some time; but after seven
years they began to exhibit symptoms of ill thriving, and were every
year getting worse: I saw them in 1840, and instead of increasing
in size they seemed to be decreasing.” The trees grew worse, and the
following year several died. It was then determined to drain the land:
3000 feet of draining-tile were laid, 3 feet deep, in parallel lines,
48 feet apart. In the spring of 1843, and in the autumn of the same
year, 3000 feet of drain pipes, 1¼ inch bore, were laid at 30 inches
deep, so that the drains were then only 24 feet apart; the ground at
the same time was dug over eight inches deep, and the trees pruned. The
following year the proprietor writes: “I never housed _any thing like_
50 bushels before; now there are at least 75 bushels, while my summer
fruit was at least double the usual quantity.” Upon this, Mr. Thompson
remarks:— “The lopping-in of the trees and digging the ground, as above
described, were doubtless advantageous proceedings; but the draining
of the ground was unquestionably the main cause of the extraordinary
change in the condition of the trees; for stunted specimens, that
previous to the draining were covered with moss, had made no shoots
for years, and were in such a state of decrepitude that there was
nothing to cut away but dead wood; these had produced vigorous shoots
when I saw them in 1847, and have continued to do so up to the present
time. Such vigour cannot be attributed to the cutting-in, for in
these cases it was not practised; nor to the digging of the ground,
for although this was done before draining was thought of, yet the
trees went backwards, the decay of their branches increased under all
circumstances till 1843, when recourse was had to draining, and since
then they have continued to do well, producing vigorous shoots—shoots
upwards of three feet in length; and in the present season the fruit
was abundant, large, and highly coloured.”
A case was mentioned before the Staten Island Farmer’s Club, in 1850,
of an under-drain having been run near two greengage plum-trees, which
had previously been for many years entirely barren; the year after,
without any other operation upon them, they bore _bushels_ of fruit.
[Sidenote: _A DEVONSHIRE CIDER FROLIC._]
The following satirical sketch of the management of the Devonshire
orchards, contains an amusing account of the ceremony of “shooting at
the apple-tree,” before alluded to.[6]
[6] From the London Gardeners’ Chronicle.
“The trees are planted, to a large extent, apparently without
considering what sort of soil or situation is best, and without
making any previous preparation; a situation is chosen, a pit is dug
with a curious clumsy bit of iron, having a large socket-hole at one
end of it, in which is driven a large, strong pole, which answers for
a handle; it is worked with both hands over one knee; the depth that
the roots are buried does not seem to be of any moment, provided the
trees are firmly fixed, so as to prevent the wind from driving them
down. I have never observed any pruning performed, except such as is
done by bullocks, horses, donkeys, &c.; and as I have not observed
any “horse-ladders” here in use, of course the pruning is not very
effectively performed about the top part of the very lofty trees.
The only digging or stirring the surface of the ground among the
trees that I have observed is done by pigs, which are occasionally
allowed to rove in some orchards, at certain seasons of the year,
with the rings taken from their snouts. In a moist season these
intelligent animals occasionally turn up the ground in a tolerably
regular manner; and where this is the case the good effects of their
industry are obvious. However, it is only on rare occasions that
they are allowed to perform this surface operation. The animals that
do the pruning are the principal business-performing creatures, as,
in addition to that operation, they tread down the under crop of
grass, weeds, and other rubbish, take the fruit to the cider-mill,
and the cider to the consumer; besides, on rare occurrences, a little
manure is conveyed by them, and placed over the roots, close to the
trunks of the trees; it is sometimes, although rarely, placed at
the great distance of three or four feet from the trunk. Bipeds,
notwithstanding, perform some of the most interesting and essential
parts, such as planting, collecting the fruit, consuming it in part,
and assisting in making the cider; together with shooting at trees
annually on Old Twelfth-night. Let it rain, hail, blow, or snow, this
very essential and interesting ceremony is always commenced at 12
o’clock at night, a tremendous fire being kept up for several hours
afterwards. They repeat or sing the following interesting song, with
all the might which their lungs will permit. The juice of the fruit
is generally made use of for many hours, pretty freely, previously
to this interesting ceremony, so that a perfect ripeness of address
and expertness in gunnery is the result. Guns and firelocks long laid
by are on this remarkable occasion brought forward. The following
is what I have heard sung on these occasions, although much more is
added in some localities:—
“Here’s to thee, old apple-tree,
Whence thou mayest bud, and whence thou mayest blow;
And whence thou mayest bear apples enow;
Hats full, caps full!
Bushel, bushel-sacks full!
And my pockets full too!
If thee does not bear either apples or corn,
We’ll down with thy top, and up with thy horn.”
(Here the natives shoot at the tree.)