We must give up thinking of _remedies_ for blights and diseases of
fruit-trees and seek after _preventives_. Amputation may limit its
ravages; but surgery is not a remedy, but a resource after remedies
fail. We must, it seems to us, look for a preventive in a wiser system
of fruit cultivation. To this subject we shall now speak.
The effect of cultivation in changing the habits of plants is familiar
to all. Incident to this artificial condition of the plant, there will
be new diseases, vegetable vices, which, as they result from
cultivation, must be regarded in every perfect system of cultivation.
Where trees are grown for timber, or shade, or ornament, everything
can be sacrificed to the production of wood and foliage. But in
fruit-trees wood is nothing and fruit is everything. We push for
_quantity_ and _quality_ of fruit; and would not regard the wood or
foliage at all, if it were not indispensable as a means of procuring
fruit. That is the most skillful treatment of fruit-trees which
involves a just compromise between the wants of the _tree_, and the
abundance and excellence of _fruit_. There is a way of gaining fruit
by a rapid consumption of the tree; and there is a method of gaining
fruit by invigorating and prolonging the tree. Two systems of
cultivation grow out of these different methods—a natural system and
an artificial system. All _cultivation_ is artificial, even the
rudest. By natural system, then, is only meant a treatment which
interferes but _little_ with nature; and by artificial, a system in
which skill is applied to every part of the vegetable economy. For
conservatories, gardens, and experimental grounds, there is no reason
why an artificial system should not exist. Moral considerations
restrain us from stimulating a man or a beast to procure a quick or a
large return at the expense of life and limb; but in vegetable matters
our _preference_ or interest is the only restraint. If any reason
exists for forcing a tree to bear young, and enormously, and after ten
years’ service for throwing it away, it is proper to do it. For larger
show-fruit we _ring_ a limb expecting to sacrifice the branch; we
diminish the life of the pear by putting it to a dwarf habit by
violent means. If we have any sufficiently desirable object to
accomplish, there is no reason why we should not do it. There may be
as good reasons for limiting a tree to ten years as a strawberry bed
to three.
There is another form of the artificial system in which there _is_
much to censure. When fruit-trees are set in gardens, yards, etc., to
be permanent, and _long-lived_, it is folly to apply to them that
high-toned treatment which belongs to an artificial system as I have
spoken of it above. Impatient of delay, the cultivator presses his
trees forward by stimulating applications, or retards them by violent
interference—by prunings at the root or branch, by bending or binding;
everything is sacrificed for early and abundant bearing. Fine fruit
yards, designed to last a hundred years, are served with a treatment
proper only to a conservatory or experimental garden. This high-toned
system is still more vicious when applied to orchards and especially
to pear orchards; and it seems to us that much is to be learned and
much unlearned before we shall have attained a true science of pear
culture. Let us consider some facts. It is well known that seedling
apple-trees are generally longer lived than grafted varieties, and
obnoxious to fewer diseases. The same is true of the pear-tree. It has
frequently been said that _seedling_ and _wilding_ pears were not
subject to the blight. This is not true if such trees are undergoing
the same cultivation as grafted sorts; it is not always true when they
exist in an untutored state; but when they are left to themselves,
they certainly are _less_ obnoxious to the blight and to disease of
any kind, than are grafted and cultivated varieties. A comparison
between wild and tame, between cultivated and natural, between
seedling and grafted fruit, is certainly to the advantage of seedling
uncultivated fruit, _in respect to the HEALTH of the tree_—of course
it is not in respect to quality of fruit. In connection with these
facts, consider another, that seedling and wilding fruit is nearly
twice as long in coming into bearing as are cultivated varieties. The
seedling apple bears at from ten to fourteen years. The pear bears at
from fifteen to eighteen years. But upon cultivation the grafted pear
and apple bear in from five to eight years. It is noticeable that,
although the pear as a wilding is four or five years longer in coming
to a bearing state than the apple, yet, upon cultivation, they both
bear at about the same age from the bud or graft. In a private letter
from Robert Manning (we prize it as among the last he ever wrote;
another, received not long after, was _dictated_; but signed by his
tremulous hand in letters which speak of death), he says, “_Pears bear
as soon as apples of the same age_; on the quince much sooner,” etc.
It appears, then, that while cultivation accelerates the period of
fruit-bearing and perfects the fruit, it is also accompanied with
premature age and liability to diseases. We do not wish to be
understood as opposing the habit of _cultivating_ fruit, or as
prejudiced against grafted varieties—we are neither opposed to the one
nor to the other. But we would deduce from facts, some conclusions
which will enable us to perfect our fruits by a more discriminating
treatment.
The question will arise, Is it only by accident that liability to
disease increases, with increase of cultivation? Is there an
_inherent_ objection in _all_ artificial treatment? or is there
objection only to particular methods of artificial cultivation?
Although there may be too many exceptions, to allow of our saying,
that quickly-growing timber is not durable, it may be said in respect
to trees of the same species, that the durability of the timber
depends (among other things) on the slowness of its growth. Mountain
timber is usually tougher and more lasting than champaign wood; timber
growing in the great alluvial valleys of the West, is notoriously more
perishable than that grown in the parsimonious soils of the North and
East.
The reason does not seem obscure. In a rich soil, and under an ardent
sun, not only is the growth of trees greater in any given season, than
in a poor soil, but the growth is coarser and the grain coarser. But
what is a _coarse_ growth, and what is fine-grained, or coarse-grained
timber?—timber in which the vascular system has been greatly
distended, in which sap-vessels and air-cells are large and coarse.
Where wood is formed with great rapidity and with a super abundance of
sap, not only will there be large ducts and vessels, but the sap
itself will be but imperfectly elaborated by the leaves. We may
suppose that overfeeding in vegetables is, in its effects, analogous
to overfeeding in animals. The sap is but imperfectly decomposed in
the leaf—it passes into the channels for elaborated sap in a partially
undigested state—it deposits imperfect secretions, and the whole
tissue resulting from it will partake of the defects of the _proper
juice_.[12]
Thus a too rapid growth not only enlarges the sap passages, but forms
their sides and the whole vegetable tissue of imperfect matter. This
accounts, not only for the perishableness of quickly-grown timber,
but, doubtless, for the short-lived tendency of cultivated fruit in
comparison with _wildings_. For where the tissue is imperfectly
formed, general weakness must ensue.
These reasonings do not include plants which, in their original
nature, have a system of large sap-vessels, etc., and which naturally
are rapid growers, but respects only plants which have been forced to
this condition by circumstances.
Has this condition of the vegetable substance nothing to do with the
health of a tree? Does it not very much determine its liability to
disease?—its excitability? Where are trees liable to diseases of the
circulation? In England, in New England, where, by climate and soil,
growth is slow?—or in the Western and Middle States, where, by
climate, by soil, and by vicious treatment, the growth is excessive?
This leads me to review the methods employed in rearing fruit-trees.
The nursery business is a commercial business, and aims at _profit_.
It is the interest of nurserymen to sell largely, and to bring their
trees into market in the shortest possible time from the planting of
the seed and the setting of the bud, to the sale of the tree. But
independently of this, few nurserymen know, accurately, the nature of
the plants which they cultivate, and still less the habits of each
variety. Why should they, when learned pomologists are content to know
as little as they? The trees are highly cultivated and closely
side-pruned. The _vigor_ of a tree, _i. e._ the rapidity with which it
will grow, determines its favor. Sorts which take time, and require a
longer treatment, are regarded with disfavor. Everything is sacrificed
to rapid growth and early maturity.
Next, and proceeding in the same evil direction, comes the orchard
cultivation. From what quarter have we, mostly, derived our opinions
and practices in fruit cultivation? From French, English, and New
England writers. But is the system which they pursue fit for us? There
is an opposite extreme to high cultivation; there are evils besetting
low-cultivation. In cold, wet, stiff, barren soils, and in a cool, or
humid, or cloudy atmosphere, trees require stimulants. The soil needs
drying, warming, manuring; and the tree requires pruning. But such a
system is ruinous, where the soil is full of fiery activity, bursting
out with an irrepressible fertility and a superabundant vegetation;
where the long summer days are intensely brilliant, and the _air_ warm
enough to ripen fruit even in the densest shade of an unpruned tree.
A traveller in Lapland would require the most bracing and stimulating
food; but in New Orleans it would produce fever and death. A region,
subject to all the diseases and evils of vegetable plethora, has
adopted the practice of regions subject to the opposite evils. While
receiving with gratitude, at the hands of eminent foreign
physiologists and cultivators, the _principles_, we must establish the
ART of horticulture, by a practice conformable to our own
circumstances. A treatment which in England would only produce
healthful growth, in this country would pamper a tree to a luxurious
fullness. Let us not be deluded by the fallacious appearance of our
orchards. The evils which we have to fear are not shown forth in the
early history of a tree or an orchard. On the contrary, the appearance
will be flattering. The apple is a more hardy tree than the pear, and
will endure greater mismanagement; but in the long run we shall have
to pay for our greedy cultivation, even in the apple family. Our
pear-trees are already evincing the evils of a too luxuriant habit;
and if the West is ever to become the pear-region of America, the
culture of this tree must be adapted to the peculiarities of western
soil and climate.
It will be borne in mind that our remarks upon the cultivation of
fruit-trees are not applicable to the processes of art employed in
experimental gardens, or in climates requiring a highly artificial
culture, but to gardens and open orchards of the pear and apple in the
middle and Western States.
_Our climate and soil predispose fruit-trees to excessive growth._
There is, in the States of Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, and in the thickly
settled portions of Missouri and Kentucky, very little poor soil.
Limestone lands, clay lands, sandy barns and alluvions, afford not
only variety of soil, but the strongest and most fertile. The forest
trees of the West compared with the same species east of the Alleghany
ridge, exhibit the difference of soils. Artificial processes may
produce better soils, it may be, but there is not probably on earth so
large a body of land which is, as uniformly, deep, strong, quick, and
rich in all mineral and vegetable substances. It is cultivated under a
climate most congenial to vegetation, both in respect to length and
temperature. Our spring is early. In 1835 we gathered flowers from the
woods, near Cincinnati, on the 22d of February. In 1839 we gathered
them at Lawrenceburgh, in the last week of February. We find in our
garden journal at Indianapolis, latitude 39°55′ north, March 11, 1840,
“rose-bushes, honey-suckles, and willow trees had been in leaf for
some days,” and seed-sowing had begun. In 1841, seed was sown in open
ground, April 8th. In 1842, pie-plant broke ground March 8th, and all
early seed were in the ground by the 21st. In 1843, seeds were in by
April 20. In 1844 ground was in a working state Feb. 23d, and seeds
put in by March 1. Trees, varying according to the nature of the
season, complete the _first_ growth, on an average, about the 1st of
September. Their second growth continues, usually, into November. In
1844 we had noisette roses pushing out terminal leaves after
_Christmas_; but this is not a frequent occurrence. Upon an average,
the middle of March and the 1st of November, may be taken as the
limits of the vegetable year—a period of more than seven months.
During this season rains are copious, and frequent. Our midsummer
droughts are seldom so severe upon vegetation as they seem to be in
New England. During the months of June, July and August, the
temperature of mid-day seldom falls below 70° Fahren. and ranges
between 70° and 100°.
One other cause of rapid growth is to be mentioned—the nature of our
winters. Except when the roots are frozen, they are supposed never to
be inactive. During the winter they slowly absorb materials from the
soil, and fill the whole system with sap. When the winters are severe,
they are usually very long; and the slowness of its winter action is
compensated by the length of time afforded to the plant. In the
western States, though the winters are short, yet there is scarcely a
week in which trees may not accumulate their stores. The spring growth
will be vigorous in proportion to the amount of true sap collected in
the vegetable system. As the whole winter is mild enough for this
process to go on, the growth of trees is rampant in spring. Thus, the
quality of the soils, and the nature of the seasons—the mildness of
winter—the earliness of spring and length of summer—its heat and great
atmospheric brilliancy, all conspire to produce very rapid and strong
growth in herb, shrub, and tree; and I repeat, as a fundamental
consideration, that our SOIL AND SEASON PREDISPOSE FRUIT-TREES TO
EXCESSIVE GROWTH. From this fact we should take our start in every
process of orchard, nursery, and garden cultivation of fruit-trees;
and if philosophically employed it will, we will not say
revolutionize, but materially modify the processes of cultivation
peculiar to colder climates and poorer soils. In respect to esculent
vegetables—cabbages, radishes, celery, rhubarb, lettuce, etc., this
rank and rapid growth is beneficial, since it is not the _fruit_ but
the _plant_ which we eat. The reverse is true in fruit-trees.
Observant cultivators have conformed to this indication of nature, in
some things; for instance, in the treatment of the grape. The German
emigrants who settled in these parts, having been conversant with
vine-dressing in Europe, were usually employed to cut and lay in the
vines of such as were desirous of the best gardens. But, gradually,
their practice has been rejected, and now, instead of reducing our
vines to niggardly stumps, the wood is spared and laid in long. If
pruning be close, the vine may be said to overflow with excess of new
wood, which does not ripen well. Our remarks more especially apply to
regions below 40° of north latitude.
Below this line, our efforts need not be directed to the forcing of
growth, for that, naturally, will be all-sufficient. Our object must
be _compact and thoroughly ripened wood_. These reasonings may be
applied to many practices now generally in vogue.
1. It is the practice of nurserymen to force their trees by
cultivation, and by pruning. It is very well known, to those
conversant with the nursery business, that great growers and early
growers are the favorites (and, so far as an expeditious preparation
of stock for sale is concerned, justly), that slow and tedious growers
are put upon rampant growing stocks to quicken them. In some cases
manures are freely applied to the soil, as directed by all writers who
teach how to prepare ground for a nursery. But such writers had their
eye upon the soil of England or New England. The still more vicious
practice of side trimming and free pruning is followed, which forces
the tree to produce a great deal of wood, rather than to ripen well a
little. A well-informed nurseryman ought not to look so much at the
_length_ of his trees, as to the _quality of their wood_. The very
beau ideal of a fruit-tree for our climate is one that, while it is
hardy enough to grow steadily in cool seasons, is not excitable enough
to grow rampantly in warm ones, and which completes its work early in
the season, ripens its wood thoroughly, and goes to rest before there
is danger of severe frost. Such trees may be had, by skillful
breeding, as easily, as, by breeding, any desirable quality may be
developed in cattle or horses. But of this hereafter.
The subject of pruning will be separately treated; but it is
appropriate here to say, that every consideration should incline the
nurseryman to grow his trees _with side brush from top to bottom_, and
by shortening these, to multiply leaves to the greatest possible
extent all over the tree. In every climate we should idolize the
_leaf_—in which are the sources of health and abiding vigor.
2. The mistakes of the nursery are carried out and developed by the
purchaser, in the following respects—by bad selection, pernicious
cultivation, and by improper pruning.
First, trees are selected upon a bad principle. Men are very naturally
in a hurry to see their orchards in bearing; precocious trees,
therefore, and all means of prematurity are sought. In respect to the
pear, it is the popular, but incorrect, opinion that it takes a man’s
lifetime to bring them into fruit. Hope deferred, very naturally in
such cases, makes the heart sick. But certain talismanic words found
in catalogues and fruit manuals restore the courage, and you shall
find the pencil mark made upon all pears, described as “of a vigorous
growth,” “a rampant grower,” “comes early into bearing,” “bears
young,” “a great and early bearer.” But such as these—“not of a very
vigorous growth,” “does not bear young,” “the growth is slow but
healthy,” “grows to a large size before producing fruit,”—are passed
by. Many farmers judge of a tree as they would timothy grass. A
short-jointed, compact branch, is “_stunted_;” but a long, plump limb,
like a water shoot, or a Lombardy poplar branch, is admired as a
first-rate growth. Some pears have but this single virtue: they make
wood in capital quantities, but very poor pears. Now our selection
must proceed on different principles if our orchards are to be
_durable_ and _healthy_. We should mark for selection pears described
as—“of a compact habit,” “growth slow and healthy,” “ripens its wood
early and thoroughly.” A tree which runs far into the fall, and makes
quantities of wood more than it can thoroughly ripen, must be regarded
as unsafe and undesirable.
There is another marked fault in selecting trees—a disposition to get
long and handsome trees with smooth stems. This principle of selection
would be excellent when one goes after a bean-pole, or a cane. A
fruit-tree is not usually cultivated for such uses. In the first
place, it is not wise to expose the trunk of a fruit-tree to the full
sun of our summers. We have seen peach trees killed by opening the
head so much as to expose the main branches to the sun. A low head, a
short trunk should be sought. When land is scarce, and orchards
cultivated, high trimming is employed for the sake of convenience, not
of the tree, but of its _owner_. And in cool and humid climates, such
evils do not attend the practice, as with us. Beside picking long
shanked trees, one would suppose that a leaf below the crotch would
poison the tree from the assiduity with which they are trimmed off. It
ought to be laid down as a fundamental rule with us, that a tree is
benefited _not by the amount of its wood, but by the extent of its
leaf surface_. Every effort should be used to make the length of the
wood moderate, and the amount of its leaves abundant. The leaf does
not depend for its quality on the wood, _but the wood takes its nature
from the leaf_. Young trees ought to be grown with side brush from the
roots to the fork. Water shoots from the root are to be removed, but
leaves upon the trunk are to be nursed. By cutting in the brush when
it tends to a long growth, it will emit side shoots, and still
increase the number of leaves.
Secondly. There is great evil in pruning too much. France and England
have given us our notions upon pruning. There, their own system is
wise, because it conforms to the climate and soil. But their system of
pruning is totally uncongenial with our seasons and the habits of our
trees. In England, for instance, the peach will not ripen in open
grounds, except, perhaps, in the extreme southern counties. In
consequence, it is trained upon walls, and its wood thinned, to let
light and heat upon every part of it. It is very right to husband
light and heat when it is scarce, and by opening the head of a tree to
carry them to all parts of the sluggish wood. But we often have more
than we want. A peach will ripen, on the lowest limb and inside of the
tree, by the mere heat of the atmosphere. Even in New England, the
English system of pruning proves too free. Manning says, “From the
strong growth of fruit-trees in our country and the dryness of its
atmosphere, severe pruning is less necessary here than in England.” We
are not giving rules _for_ pruning; but cautions _against_ pruning too
freely. There is not a single point in fruit cultivation where more
mistakes are committed than in _pruning_.
Thirdly. Great mistakes are committed in stimulating the growth of
trees by enriching the soil. Books direct (and men naturally and
innocently obey), the putting of manure to young trees. We have no
doubt that the time will come, when manures will be so thoroughly
analyzed and classified, that we can employ them just as a carpenter
does his tools, or the farmer his implements; if we wish _wood_, we
shall apply certain ingredients to the soil and have it; if we wish
fruit, we shall have at hand manures which promote the fruiting
properties of the tree; if we want seed, we shall have manures for it.
But manures as now employed, are, usually, not beneficial to orchards
of _young_ trees. A clay soil, very stiff and adhesive, may require
sand and vegetable mold to render it permeable to the root; some very
barren soils may require some manure; but the average of our farms are
rich enough already, and too rich for the good of the young tree. It
would be better for the orchard if it made less wood and made it
better.
If these directions make the prospect of fruit so distant as to
discourage the planting of orchards, we will add, plant your orchard;
and if you cannot wait for its healthful growth, plant also trees for
immediate use, and serve them just as you please; manure them, cut
them, get fruit at all hazards; only make up your minds that they will
be short-lived and liable to blight and disease.
[12] For the young reader it may be necessary to say, that
when sap is first taken up by the roots it is called _true
sap_; but after it has undergone a change in the leaves it
is called _proper juice_.