Grain and Chaff from an English Manor

by Arthur Herbert Savory

The Vale of Evesham has the credit of being the birthplace of two most valuable plums—the Damascene, and the Pershore, or Egg plum. These both grow on their own stocks, so require no grafting, and can readily be propagated by severing the suckers which spring up around them from the roots of the tree. The Damascene, as its name implies, is a species of Damson, but coarser than the real Damson or the Prune Damson. They are not so popular on the London market as in the markets of the north, especially in Manchester, where they command prices little inferior to the better sorts, as they yield a brilliant red dye suitable for dying printed cotton goods. When really ripe they are excellent for cooking, and are not to be despised, even raw, on a thirsty autumn day. In years of scarcity these have fetched 30s. and over per "pot" of 72 pounds.

The Pershore is a very different plum, green when unripe, and attaining a golden colour later; they are immense bearers and very hardy, frequently saving the situation for the plum-growers when all other kinds are destroyed by spring frosts. They are specially valuable for bottling, and it is rumoured that in the hands of skilful manufacturers they become "apricots" under certain conditions. As "cookers," too, they are perhaps the most useful of plums, for they can be used in a very green and hard state. It is a wonderful sight to see them being despatched by tram at the Evesham stations, loaded sometimes loose like coals in the trucks for the big preserving firms in the north. The trees grow very irregularly and are difficult to keep in shape by pruning, as they send forth suckers from all parts when an attempt is made to keep them symmetrical. The only purpose for which the fruit is of little use is for eating raw, they are not unpleasant when just ripe, but that stage is soon passed and they become woody and unpalatable.

I planted a thousand of these trees in a new orchard, and took great pains with the pruning myself, for it was curious that in that land of fruit at the time no professional pruner could be found. I sought the advice of a market-gardener and plum-grower, who, in the early stage of their growth, gave me an object-lesson, cutting back the young shoots rather hard to induce them to throw out more at the point of incision, so as to produce eventually a fuller head; while he reiterated the instruction, "It is no use being afraid of 'em."

This young orchard adjoined the Great Western Railway, and one day when pruning there I saw a remarkable sight, and I have never found any one with a similar experience. The telegraph wires were magnified into stout ropes by a coating of white rime, and I could see a distinct series of waves approximating to the dots and dashes of the Morse code running along them. The movement would run for a time up towards London, cease for a moment, and then run downwards towards Evesham, and so on almost continuously. I thought it might be caused by the passage of electricity, but I cannot get a satisfactory explanation. No trains were passing, there was no wind, the rime was not thawing or falling off, and apparently there was nothing to agitate either poles or wires.

This orchard was not a lucky one; it was too low, having only one flat meadow between it and the brook, and therefore very liable to spring frosts. I have seen the trees well past the blossoming stage, with young plums as large as peas, which after two nights' sharp frost turned black and fell off to such an extent that there was scarcely a plum left; but I had a few very good crops which gave employment to a number of additional hands besides my regular people.

A season came when the plum-trees in my new orchard were badly attacked by the caterpillars of the winter-moth, but the cuckoos soon found them out, and I could see half a dozen at once enjoying a bountiful feast. When better plums are abundant the Pershore falls to very low prices; I have sold quantities at 1s. or 1s. 3d. per pot of 72 pounds, at which of course there was a loss; but it is needless to say that at such times the consumer never gets the benefit, 2d. a pound being about the lowest figure at which they are ever seen on offer in the shops.

The Victoria is a very superior plum to the Pershore, and a local plum called Jimmy Moore is also a favourite. I believe this plum is very similar to, if not identical with, one sold as Emperor; both it and the Victoria nearly always made good prices and bore well. The Victoria, especially, was so prolific that in some seasons, if not carefully propped, every branch would be broken off by, the weight of fruit, and the tree left a wreck. Not discouraged, however, it would shoot out again and in a few years bear as well as ever.

My best plum was the greengage, rather a shy bearer but always in demand. Living in a land of Goshen, like the Vale of Evesham, one gets quite hypercritical (or "picksome," as the local expression is), and scarcely cares to taste a fruit from a tree in passing; but I used to visit my greengages at times when the pickers had done with them, for they have to be gathered somewhat unripe to ensure travelling undamaged. I often found, on the south side of the tree, a few that had been overlooked which were fully ripe, beautifully mottled, full of sunshine, and perfect in melting texture and ambrosial flavour.

For restocking old worn-out apple orchards, in Worcestershire at any rate, there is nothing to equal plum-trees; they flourished amazingly at Aldington, and soon made up for the lost apples; they appeared to follow the principle that dictates the rotation of ordinary crops, just as the leguminous plants alternate satisfactorily with the graminaceous, or, as I have read that in Norway, where a fir forest has been cut, birch will spring up automatically and take its place.

My predecessor always sold his plums on the trees for the buyer to harvest, and I heard that when the former turned a flock of Dorset ewes into one of these orchards, the buyer complained—the lower branches being heavily laden, and within a few feet of the ground—that he had watched, "Them old yows holding down bunches of plums with their harns for t'others to eat." This I imagine was in the nature of hyperbole, and not intended to be taken literally.