This chapter will treat first of the imported kinds, which usually are more or less tender, and then, by way of contrast, of the hardy varieties of our native R. Strigosus.
I shall speak of those only that are now in general cultivation, naming a few, also, whose popularity in the past has been so great as to entitle them to mention.
As was true of strawberries, so also varieties of raspberries that won name and fame abroad were imported, and a few of them have adapted themselves so well to American soil and climate as to have become standards of excellence. Among the best-known of these formerly was the Red Antwerp of England. Few old-fashioned gardens were without it at one time, but it is fast giving way to newer and more popular varieties. The canes are vigorous, stocky, and tall; spines light-red, numerous, and rather strong. Winter protection is always needed. The berries are large and very obtuse, conical, dark-red, large-grained, and covered with a thick bloom, very juicy, and exceedingly soft—too much so for market purposes. They made a dainty dish for home use, however, and our grandmothers, when maidens, gathered them in the lengthening summer shadows.
The Hudson River Antwerp, the most celebrated foreign berry in America, is quite distinct from the above, although belonging to the same family. It is shorter and more slender in its growth, quite free from spines, and its canes are of a peculiar mouse-color. Its fruit is even larger, but firm, decidedly conical, not very bright when fully ripe, and rather dry, but sweet and agreeable in flavor. Mr. Downing says that its origin is unknown, and that it was brought to this country by the late Mr. Briggs, of Poughkeepsie, N.Y. "As this gentleman was leaving England" (thus the story is told, Mr. Downing writes to me), "he visited a friend to say good-by, and solicited this new raspberry. Since he was leaving the country, and could cause no injury to the sale of plants, his friend gave him a few in parting, although three guineas had been refused for a single plant hitherto, in the careful effort to secure a large stock before putting the variety on the market." Its name suggests Belgium as its original home.
This Antwerp continues long in bearing, and the berries begin to ripen early. The good carrying qualities of the fruit, combined with great productiveness, made it at one time the most profitable market berry in this section; but its culture was chiefly confined to a narrow strip on the west shore of the Hudson, extending from Cornwall to Kingston. For some obscure reasons, it did not thrive in other localities, and now it appears to be failing fast in its favorite haunt. A disease called the "curl-leaf" is destroying some of the oldest and largest plantations, and the growers are looking about for hardier and more vigorous varieties. But in its palmy days, and even still, the Hudson River Antwerp was one of the great productions of the country, sending barges and steamers nightly to New York laden with ruby cones, whose aroma was often very distinct on the windward shore while the boats were passing. This enormous business had in part a chance and curious origin, and a very small beginning; while the celebrated variety itself, which eventually covered so many hundreds of acres on the west bank of the Hudson, may be traced back through two lines of ancestry. An English gardener, who probably obtained the plants from Mr. Briggs, gave some of them to a Mr. Samuel Barnes, who resided in Westchester County. From him, Mr. Thos. H. Burling, of New Rochelle, N.Y., secured an abundant supply for his home garden. Here its value was observed by Mr. Nathaniel Hallock, who transferred some of the canes to his place at Milton, N. Y. From his garden they spread over many fields besides his own.
In respect to the other line of ancestry of this historical berry, I am indebted for the following facts to Mr. W. C. Young, of Marlboro', N. Y.: Many years ago a bundle of raspberry plants was left at a meat-market in Poughkeepsie, and Mr. Watters, the proprietor of the place, kept them several days, expecting that they would be called for. As they remained upon his hands, he planted them in his garden, where, like genuine worth, they soon asserted their superiority. Mr. Edward Young, of Marlboro', a relative of Mr. Watters, received a present of a few roots, which supplied his family with the largest and most beautiful berries he had ever seen. Good propagates itself as well as evil if given a chance, and Mr. Young soon had far more fruit than was needed by his family, and he resolved to try the fortunes of his favorite in New York market. "For this purpose," his son writes, "my father procured imported fancy willow baskets, holding about one pint each, and carefully packed these in crates made for the purpose. This mode proved a success, both in carrying them securely and in making them very attractive. The putting up such a fine variety of fruit in this way gave it notoriety at once, and it brought at first as much as one dollar per quart. My father was so well satisfied with his experiment that he advised his sons, Alexander, Edward and myself, to extend the culture of this variety largely. We entered into the business, and, pursuing it with diligence, were well compensated. Our success made others desirous of engaging in it, and so it spread out into its large dimensions." Mr. Alexander Young estimates that in the year 1858 1,000,000 pint baskets, or about 14,700 bushels, were shipped from Marlboro'; but adds that "since 1860 it has decreased as fast. From present appearances, the variety must become extinct, and I fear will never have its equal." Milton, Cornwall, New burgh, and other points competed in the profitable industry, and now, with Marlboro', are replacing the failing variety with other kinds more vigorous in growth, but thus far inferior in quality.
That the great industry is not falling off is shown by the following statement, taken from the New York "Tribune" in the summer of 1779: "The village of Highland, opposite Poughkeepsie, runs a berry boat daily to New York, and the large night steamers are now taking out immense loads of raspberries from the river towns every evening, having at times nearly 2,000 bushels on board."
From as careful a computation as I have been able to make, through the courtesy of the officers of the large Kingston boats the "Baldwin" and "Cornell," I am led to believe that these two steamers unitedly carried to the city over twenty thousand bushels of berries that same year. The magnitude of this industry on the Hudson will be still better realized when it is remembered that several other freight boats divide this traffic with the Kingston steamers.
When we consider what a delicate and perishable fruit this is, it can be understood that gathering and packing it properly is no bagatelle. Sometimes you will find the fruit grower's family in the field, from the matron down to the little ones that cannot reach the highest berries. But the home force is wholly insufficient, and any one who will pick—man, woman or child—is employed. Therefore, drifting through the river towns during June and July, are found specimens almost as picturesque, if not so highly colored, as those we saw at Norfolk—poor whites from the back country and mountains; people from the cities on a humble "lark," who cannot afford to rusticate at a hotel; semi-tramps, who have not attained to the final stage of aristocratic idleness, wherein the offer of work is an insult which they resent by burning a barn. Rude shanties, with bunks, are fitted up to give all the shelter they require. Here they lead a gypsy life, quite as much to their taste as camping in the Adirondacks, cooking and smoking through the June twilight, and as oblivious of the exquisite scenery about them as the onion-eating peasants of Italy; but when picking the fruit on a sunny slope, and half-hidden by the raspberry bushes, Nature blends them with the scene so deftly that even they become picturesque.
The little round "thirds," as they are termed, into which the berries are gathered, are carried out of the sunlight to sheds and barns; the packer receives them, giving tickets in exchange, and then, too often with the deliberation and ease induced by the summer heat, packs them in crates. As a result, there is frequently a hurry-scurry later in the day to get the berries off in time.