The epiphytal orchid, to speak generally, and totake the simple form, is one body with several limbs, crowned by one head. Its circulation pulsates through the whole, less and less vigorously, of course, in the parts that have flowered, as the growing head leaves them behind. At some age, no doubt, circulation fails altogether in those old limbs, but experience does not tell me distinctly as yet in how long time the worn-out bulbs of an Oncidium or a Cattleya, for example, would perish by natural death. One may cut them off when apparently lifeless, even beginning to rot, and under proper conditions—it may be a twelvemonth after—a tiny green shoot will push from some "eye," withered and invisible, that has slept for years, and begin existence on its own account. Thus, I am not old enough as an orchidacean to judge through how many seasons these plants will maintain a limb apparently superfluous. Their charming disposition is characterized above all things by caution and foresight. They keep as many strings to their bow, as many shots in their locker, as may be, and they keep them as long as possible. The tender young head may be nipped off by a thousand chances, but such mishaps only rouse the indomitable thing to replace it with two, or even more. Beings designed for immortality are hard to kill.
Among the gentle forms of intellectual excitement I know not one to compare with the joy of restoring a neglected orchid to health. One may buy such for coppers—rare species, too—of a size and a "potentiality" of display which the dealers would estimate at as many pounds were they in good condition on their shelves. I am avoiding names and details, but it will be allowed me to say, in brief, that I myself have bought more than twenty pots for five shillings at the auction-rooms, not twice nor thrice either. One half of them were sick beyond recovery, some few had been injured by accident, but by far the greater part were victims of ignorance and ill-treatment which might still be redressed. Orchids tell their own tale, whether of happiness or misery, in characters beyond dispute. Mr. O'Brien alleged, indeed, before the grave and experienced signors gathered in conference, that "like the domestic animals, they soon find out when they are in hands that love them. With such a guardian they seem to be happy, and to thrive, and to establish an understanding, indicating to him their wants in many important matters as plainly as though they could speak." And the laugh that followed this statement was not derisive. He who glances at the endless tricks, methods, and contrivancesdevised by one or other species to serve its turn may well come to fancy that orchids are reasoning things.
At least, many keep the record of their history in form unmistakable. Here is a Cattleya which I purchased last autumn, suspecting it to be rare and valuable, though nameless; I paid rather less than one shilling. The poor thing tells me that some cruel person bought it five years ago—an imported piece, with two pseudo-bulbs. They still remain, towering like columns of old-world glory above an area of shapeless ruin. To speak in mere prose—though really the conceit is not extravagant—these fine bulbs, grown in their native land, of course, measure eight inches high by three-quarters of an inch diameter. In the first season, thatmalheureuxreduced their progeny to a stature of three and a half inches by the foot-rule; next season, to two inches; the third, to an inch and a half. By this time the patient creature had convinced itself that there was something radically wrong in the circumstances attending its normal head, and tried a fresh departure from the stock—a "back growth," as we call it, after the fashion I have described. In the third year then, there were two heads. In the fourth year, the chief of them had dwindled to less than one inchand the thickness of a straw, while the second struggled into growth with pain and difficulty, reached the size of a grain of wheat, and gave it up. Needless to say that the wicked and unfortunate proprietor had not seen trace of a bloom. Then at length, after five years' torment, he set it free, and I took charge of the wretched sufferer. Forthwith he began to show his gratitude, and at this moment—the summer but half through—his leading head has regained all the strength lost in three years, while the back growth, which seemed dead, outtops the best bulb my predecessor could produce.
And I have perhaps a hundred in like case, cripples regaining activity, victims rescued on their death-bed. If there be a placid joy in life superior to mine, as I stroll through my houses of a morning, much experience of the world in many lands and many circumstances has not revealed it to me. And any of my readers can attain it, for—in no conventional sense—I am my own gardener; that is to say, no male being ever touches an orchid of mine.
One could hardly cite a stronger argument to demolish the superstitions that still hang around this culture. If a busy man, journalist, essayist, novelist, and miscellaneouslittérateur, who lives byhis pen, can keep many hundreds of orchids in such health that he is proud to show them to experts—with no help whatsoever beyond, in emergency, that which ladies of his household, or a woman-servant give—if he can do this, assuredly the pursuit demands little trouble and little expense. I am not to lay down principles of cultivation here, but this must be said: orchids are indifferent to detail. There lies a secret. Secure the general conditions necessary for their well-doing, and they will gratefully relieve you of further anxiety; neglect those general conditions, and no care will reconcile them. The gentleman who reduced my Cattleya to such straits gave himself vast pains, it is likely, consulted no end of books, did all they recommend; and now declares that orchids are unaccountable. It is just the reverse. No living things follow with such obstinate obedience a few most simple laws; no machine produces its result more certainly, if one comply with the rules of its being.
This is shown emphatically by those cases which we do not clearly understand; I take for example the strangest, as is fitting. Some irreverent zealots have hailed the Phalœnopsis as Queen of Flowers, dethroning our venerable rose. I have not to consider the question of allegiance, but decidedlythis is, upon the whole, the most interesting of all orchids in the cultivator's point of view. For there are some genera and many species that refuse his attentions more or less stubbornly—in fact, we do not yet know how to woo them. But the Phalœnopsis is not among them. It gives no trouble in the great majority of cases. For myself, I find it grow with the calm complacency of the cabbage. Yet we are all aware that our success is accidental, in a measure. The general conditions which it demands are fulfilled, commonly, in any stove where East Indian plants flourish; but from time to time we receive a vigorous hint that particular conditions, not always forthcoming, are exacted by Phalœnopsis. Many legends on this theme are current; I may cite two, notorious and easily verified. The authorities at Kew determined to build a special house for the genus, provided with every comfort which experience or scientific knowledge could suggest. But when it was opened, six or eight years ago, not a Phalœnopsis of all the many varieties would grow in it; after vain efforts, Mr. Thiselton Dyer was obliged to seek another use for the building, which is now employed to show plants in flower. Sir Trevor Lawrence tells how he laid out six hundred poundsfor the same object with the same result. And yet one may safely reckon that this orchid does admirably in nine well-managed stoves out of ten, and fairly in nineteen out of twenty. Nevertheless, it is a maxim with growers that Phalœnopsis should never be transferred from a situation where they are doing well. Their hooks are sacred as that on which Horace suspended his lyre. Nor could a reasonable man think this fancy extravagant, seeing the evidence beyond dispute which warns us that their health is governed by circumstances more delicate than we can analyze at present.
It would be wrong to leave the impression that orchid culture is actually as facile as market gardening, but we may say that the eccentricities of Phalœnopsis and the rest have no more practical importance for the class I would persuade than have the terrors of the deep for a Thames water-man. How many thousand householders about this city have a "bit of glass" devoted to geraniums and fuchsias and the like! They started with more ambitious views, but successive disappointments have taught modesty, if not despair. The poor man now contents himself with anything that will keep tolerably green and show some spindling flower. The fact is, that hardyplants under glass demand skilful treatment—all their surroundings are unnatural, and with insect pest on one hand, mildew on the other, an amateur stands betwixt the devil and the deep sea. Under those circumstances common plants become really capricious—that is, being ruled by no principles easy to grasp and immutable in operation, their discomfort shows itself in perplexing forms. But such species of orchids as a poor man would think of growing are incapable of pranks. For one shilling he can buy a manual which will teach him what these species are, and most of the things necessary for him to understand besides. An expenditure of five pounds will set him up for life and beyond—since orchids are immortal. Nothing else is needed save intelligence.
Not even heat, since his collection will be "cool" naturally; if frost be excluded, that is enough. I should not have ventured to say this some few years ago—before, in fact, I had visited St. Albans. But in the cool house of that palace of enchantment with which Mr. Sander has adorned the antique borough, before the heating arrangements were quite complete though the shelves were occupied, often the glass would fall very low into the thirties. I could never learn distinctly that mischief followed, though Mr.Godseff did not like it at all. One who beheld the sight when those fields of Odontoglossum burst into bloom might well entertain a doubt whether improvement was possible. There is nothing to approach it in this lower world. I cannot forbear to indicate one picture in the grand gallery. Fancy a corridor four hundred feet long, six wide, roofed with square baskets hanging from the glass as close as they will fit. Suspend to each of these—how many hundreds or thousands has never been computed—one or more garlands of snowy flowers, a thicket overhead such as one might behold in a tropic forest, with myriads of white butterflies clustering amongst the vines. But imagination cannot bear mortal man thus far. "Upon the banks of Paradise" those "twa clerks" may have seen the like; yet, had they done so their hats would have been adorned not with "the birk," but with plumes ofOdontoglossum citrosmum.
I have but another word to say. If any of the class to whom I appeal incline to let "I dare not wait upon I would," hear the experience of a bold enthusiast, as recounted by Mr. Castle in his small brochure, "Orchids." This gentleman had a fern-case outside his sitting-room window, six feet long by three wide. He ran pipes through it, warmedpresumably by gas. More ambitious than I venture to recommend, "in this miniature structure," says Mr. Castle, "with liberal supplies of water, the owner succeeded in growing, in a smoky district of London"—I will not quote the amazing list of fine things, but it numbers twenty-five species, all the most delicate and beautiful of the stove kinds. If so much could be done under such circumstances, what may rightly be called difficult in the cultivation of orchids?
This is a subject which would interest every cultured reader, I believe, every householder at least, if he could be brought to understand that it lies well within the range of his practical concerns. But the public has still to be persuaded. It seems strange to the expert that delusions should prevail when orchids are so common and so much talked of; but I know by experience that the majority of people, even among those who love their garden, regard them as fantastic and mysterious creations, designed, to all seeming, for the greater glory of pedants and millionaires. I try to do my little part, as occasion serves, in correcting this popular error, and spreading a knowledge of the facts. It is no less than a duty. If every human being should do what he can to promote the general happiness, it would be downright wicked to leave one's fellow-men under the influence of hallucinations that debar them from the most charming of quiet pleasures. I suspect also that the misapprehension of the public is largely due to the conduct ofexperts in the past. It was a rule with growers formerly, avowed among themselves, to keep their little secrets. When Mr. B.S. Williams published the first edition of his excellent book forty years ago, he fluttered his colleagues sadly. The plain truth is that no class of plant can be cultivated so easily, as none are so certain to repay the trouble, as the Cool Orchids.
Nearly all the genera of this enormous family have species which grow in a temperate climate, if not in the temperate zone. At this moment, in fact, I recall but two exceptions, Vanda and Phalœnopsis. Many more there are, of course—half a dozen have occurred to me while I wrote the last six words—but in the small space at command I must cling to generalities. We have at least a hundred genera which will flourish anywhere if the frost be excluded; and as for species, a list of two thousand would not exhaust them probably. But a reasonable man may content himself with the great classes of Odontoglossum, Oncidium, Cypripedium, and Lycaste; among the varieties of these, which no one has ventured to calculate perhaps, he may spend a happy existence. They have every charm—foliage always green, a graceful habit, flowers that rank among the master works of Nature. The poor man who succeedswith them in his modest "bit of glass" has no cause to envy Dives his flaunting Cattleyas and "fox-brush" Aerides. I should like to publish it in capitals—that nine in ten of those suburban householders who read this book may grow the loveliest of orchids if they can find courage to try.
Odontoglossums stand first, of course—I know not where to begin the list of their supreme merits. It will seem perhaps a striking advantage to many that they burst into flower at any time, as they chance to ripen. I think that the very perfection of culture is discounted somewhat in this instance. The gardener who keeps his plants at thene plus ultrastage brings them all into bloom within the space of a few weeks. Thus in the great collections there is such a show during April, May, and June as the Gardens of Paradise could not excel, and hardly a spike in the cool houses for the rest of the year. At a large establishment this signifies nothing; when the Odontoglossums go off other things "come on" with equal regularity. But the amateur, with his limited assortment, misses every bloom. He has no need for anxiety with this genus. It is their instinct to flower in spring, of course, but they are not pedantic about it in the least. Some tiny detail overlooked here and there,absolutely unimportant to health, will retard florescence. It might very well happen that the owner of a dozen pots had one blooming every month successively. And that would mean two spikes open, for, with care, most Odontoglossums last above four weeks.
Another virtue, shared by others of the cool class in some degree, is their habit of growing in winter. They take no "rest;" all the year round their young bulbs are swelling, graceful foliage lengthening, roots pushing, until the spike demands a concentration of all their energy. But winter is the most important time. I think any man will see the peculiar blessing of this arrangement. It gives interest to the long dull days, when other plant life is at a standstill. It furnishes material for cheering meditations on a Sunday morning—is that a trifle? And at this season the pursuit is joy unmixed. We feel no anxious questionings, as we go about our daily business, whether theplacens uxorforgot to remind Mary, when she went out, to pull the blinds down; whether Mary followed the instructions if given; whether those confounded patent ventilators have snapped to again. Green fly does not harass us. One syringing a day, and one watering per week suffice. Truly these are not grave things, but the issue atstake is precious: we enjoy the boon of relief proportionately.
Very few of those who grow Odontoglossums know much about the "Trade," or care, seemingly. It is a curious subject, however. The genus is American exclusively. It ranges over the continent from the northern frontier of Mexico to the southern frontier of Peru, excepting, to speak roughly, the empire of Brazil. This limitation is odd. It cannot be due to temperature simply, for, upon the one hand, we receive Sophronitis, a very cool genus, from Brazil, and several of the coolest Cattleyas; upon the other,Odontoglossum Roezlii, a very hot species, andO. vexillarium, most decidedly warm, flourish up to the boundary. Why these should not step across, even if their mountain sisters refuse companionship with the Sophronitis, is a puzzle. Elsewhere, however, they abound. Collectors distinctly foresee the time when all the districts they have "worked" up to this will be exhausted. But South America contains a prodigious number of square miles, and a day's march from the track carries one intoterra incognita. Still, the end will come. The English demand has stripped whole provinces, and now all the civilized world is entering into competition. We are sadly assured that Odontoglossums carried off will not be replacedfor centuries. Most other genera of orchid propagate so freely that wholesale depredations are made good in very few years. For reasons beyond our comprehension as yet, the Odontoglossum stands in different case. No one in England has raised a plant from seed—that we may venture to say definitely. Mr. Cookson and Mr. Veitch, perhaps others also, have obtained living germs, but they died incontinently. Frenchmen, aided by the climate, have been rather more successful. MM. Bleu and Moreau have both flowered seedling Odontoglots. M. Jacob, who takes charge of M. Edmund de Rothschild's orchids at Armainvilliers, has a considerable number of young plants. The reluctance of Odontoglots to propagate is regarded as strange; it supplies a constant theme for discussion among orchidologists. But I think that if we look more closely it appears consistent with other facts known. For among importations of every genus but this—and Cypripedium—a plant bearing its seed-capsules is frequently discovered; but I cannot hear of such an incident in the case of Odontoglossums. They have been arriving in scores of thousands, year by year, for half a century almost, and scarcely anyone recollects observing a seed-capsule. This shows how rarely they fertilize in their native home. Whenthat event happens, the Odontoglossum is yet more prolific than most, and the germs, of course, are not so delicate under their natural conditions. But the moral to be drawn is that a country once stripped will not be reclothed.
I interpolate here a profound observation of Mr. Roezl. That wonderful man remarked that Odontoglossums grow upon branches thirty feet above the ground. It is rare to find them at thirty-five feet, rarer at twenty-five; at greater and less heights they do not exist. Here, doubtless, we have the secret of their reluctance to fertilize; but I will offer no comments, because the more one reflects the more puzzling it becomes. Evidently the seed must be carried above and must fall below that limit, under circumstances which, to our apprehension, seem just as favourable as those at the altitude of thirty feet. But they do not germinate. Upon the other hand, Odontoglossums show no such daintiness of growth in our houses. They flourish at any height, if the general conditions be suitable. Mr. Roezl discovered a secret nevertheless, and in good time we shall learn further.
To the Royal Horticultural Society of England belongs the honour of first importing orchids methodically and scientifically. Messrs. Weir andFortune, I believe, were their earliest employés. Another was Theodor Hartweg, who discoveredOdontoglossum crispum Alexandræin 1842; but he sent home only dried specimens. From these Lindley described and classed the plant, aided by the sketch of a Spanish or Peruvian artist, Tagala. A very curious mistake Lindley fell into on either point. The scientific error does not concern us, but he represented the colouring of the flower as yellow with a purple centre. So Tagala painted it, and his drawing survives. It is an odd little story. He certainly had Hartweg's bloom before him, and that certainly was white. But then again yellow Alexandræs have been found since that day. To the Horticultural Society we are indebted, not alone for the discovery of this wonder, but also for its introduction. John Weir was travelling for them when he sent living specimens in 1862. It is not surprising that botanists thought it new after what has been said. As such Mr. Bateman named it after the young Princess of Wales—a choice most appropriate in every way.
Odontoglossum Crispum Alexandrae.
Then a few wealthy amateurs took up the business of importation, such as the Duke of Devonshire. But "the Trade" came to see presently that there was money in this new fashion, and imported so vigorously that theSociety found its exertions needless. Messrs. Rollisson of Tooting, Messrs. Veitch of Chelsea, and Messrs. Low of Clapton distinguished themselves from the outset. Of these three firms one is extinct; the second has taken up, and made its own, the fascinating study of hybridization among orchids; the third still perseveres. Twenty years ago, nearly all the great nurserymen in London used to send out their travellers; but they have mostly dropped the practice. Correspondents forward a shipment from time to time. The expenses of the collector are heavy, even if he draw no more than his due—and the temptation to make up a fancy bill cannot be resisted by some weak mortals. Then, grave losses are always probable—in the case of South American importations, certain. It has happened not once but a hundred times that the toil of months, the dangers, the sufferings, and the hard money expended go to absolute waste. Twenty or thirty thousand plants or more an honest man collects, brings down from the mountains or the forests, packs carefully, and ships. The freight alone may reach from three to eight hundred pounds—I have personally known instances when it exceeded five hundred. The cases arrive in England—and not a living thing therein!A steamship company may reduce its charge under such circumstances, but again and again it will happen that the speculator stands out of a thousand pounds clean when his boxes are opened. He may hope to recover it on the next cargo, but that is still a question of luck. No wonder that men whose business is not confined to orchids withdrew from the risks of importation, returning to roses and lilies and daffodowndillies with a new enthusiasm.
There is another point also, which has varying force with different characters. The loss of life among those men who "go out collecting" has been greater proportionately, than in any class of which I have heard. In former times, at least, they were chosen haphazard, among intelligent and trustworthy employés of the firm. Trustworthiness was a grand point, for reasons hinted. The honest youth, not very strong perhaps in an English climate, went bravely forth into the unhealthiest parts of unhealthy lands, where food is very scarce, and very, very rough; where he was wet through day after day, for weeks at a time; where "the fever," of varied sort, comes as regularly as Sunday; where from month to month he found no one with whom to exchange a word. I could make out a startling list of the martyrs of orchidology. Among Mr. Sander's collectors alone, Falkenbergperished at Panama, Klaboch in Mexico, Endres at Rio Hacha, Wallis in Ecuador, Schroeder in Sierra Leone, Arnold on the Orinoco, Digance in Brazil, Brown in Madagascar. Sir Trevor Lawrence mentions a case where the zealous explorer "waded for a fortnight up to his middle in mud," searching for a plant he had heard of. I have not identified this instance of devotion, but we know of rarities which would demand perseverance and sufferings almost equal to secure them. If employers could find the heart to tempt a fellow-creature into such risks, the chances are that it would prove bad business. For to discover a new or valuable orchid is only the first step in a commercial enterprise. It remains to secure the "article," to bring it safely into a realm that may be called civilized, to pack it and superintend its transport through the sweltering lowland to a shipping place. If the collector sicken after finding his prize, these cares are neglected more or less; if he die, all comes to a full stop. Thus it happens that the importing business has been given up by one firm after another.
Odontoglossums, as I said, belong to America—to the mountainous parts of the continent in general. Though it would be wildly rash to pronounce which is the loveliest of orchids, no manwith eyes would dispute thatO. crispum Alexandræis the queen of this genus. She has her home in the States of Colombia, and those who seek her make Bogota their headquarters. If the collector wants the broad-petalled variety, he goes about ten days to the southward before commencing operations; if the narrow-petalled, about two days to the north—on mule-back of course. His first care on arrival in the neighbourhood—which is unexplored ground, if such he can discover—is to hire a wood; that is, a track of mountain clothed more or less with timber. I have tried to procure one of these "leases," which must be odd documents; but orchid-farming is a close and secret business. The arrangement concluded in legal form, he hires natives, twenty or fifty or a hundred, as circumstances advise, and sends them to cut down trees, building meantime a wooden stage of sufficient length to bear the plunder expected. This is used for cleaning and drying the plants brought in. Afterwards, if he be prudent, he follows his lumber-men, to see that their indolence does not shirk the big trunks—which give extra trouble naturally, though they yield the best and largest return. It is a terribly wasteful process. If we estimate that a good tree has been felled for every three scraps of Odontoglossum which are now established inEurope, that will be no exaggeration. And for many years past they have been arriving by hundreds of thousands annually! But there is no alternative. An European cannot explore that green wilderness overhead; if he could, his accumulations would be so slow and costly as to raise the proceeds to an impossible figure. The natives will not climb, and they would tear the plants to bits. Timber has no value in those parts as yet, but the day approaches when Government must interfere. The average yield ofOdontoglossum crispumper tree is certainly not more than five large and small together. Once upon a time Mr. Kerbach recovered fifty-three at one felling, and the incident has grown into a legend; two or three is the usual number. Upon the other hand, fifty or sixty ofO. gloriosum, comparatively worthless, are often secured. The cutters receive a fixed price of sixpence for each orchid, without reference to species or quality.
When his concession is exhausted, the traveller overhauls the produce carefully, throwing away those damaged pieces which would ferment in the long, hot journey home, and spoil the others. When all are clean and dry, he fixes them with copper wire on sticks, which are nailed across boxes for transport. Long experience has laiddown rules for each detail of this process. The sticks, for example, are one inch in diameter, fitting into boxes two feet three inches wide, two feet deep, neither more nor less. Then the long file of mules sets out for Bogota, perhaps ten days' march, each animal carrying two boxes—a burden ridiculously light, but on such tracks it is dimension which has to be considered. On arrival at Bogota, the cases are unpacked and examined for the last time, restowed, and consigned to the muleteers again. In six days they reach Honda, on the Magdalena River, where, until lately, they were embarked on rafts for a voyage of fourteen days to Savanilla. At the present time, an American company has established a service of flat-bottomed steamers which cover the distance in seven days, thus reducing the risks of the journey by one-half. But they are still terrible. Not a breath of wind stirs the air at that season, for the collector cannot choose his time. The boxes are piled on deck; even the pitiless sunshine is not so deadly as the stewing heat below. He has a store of blankets to cover them, on which he lays a thatch of palm-leaves, and all day long he souses the pile with water; but too well the poor fellow knows that mischief is busy down below. Another anxiety possesses him too. It may very well be that onarrival at Savanilla he has to wait days in that sweltering atmosphere for the Royal Mail steamer. And when it comes in, his troubles do not cease, for the stowage of the precious cargo is vastly important. On deck it will almost certainly be injured by salt water. In the hold it will ferment. Amidships it is apt to be baked by the engine fire. Whilst writing I learn that Mr. Sander has lost two hundred and sixty-seven cases by this latter mishap, as is supposed. So utterly hopeless is their condition, that he will not go to the expense of overhauling them; they lie at Southampton, and to anybody who will take them away all parties concerned will be grateful. The expense of making this shipment a reader may judge from the hints given. The Royal Mail Company's charge for freight from Manzanilla is 750l.I could give an incident of the same class yet more startling with reference to Phalœnopsis. It is proper to add that the most enterprising of Assurance Companies do not yet see their way to accept any kind of risks in the orchid trade; importers must bear all the burden. To me it seems surprising that the plants can be sold so cheap, all things considered. Many persons think and hope that prices will fall, and that may probably happen with regard to some genera. But the shrewdest of those very shrewdmen who conduct the business all look for a rise.
Od. Harryanumalways reminds me—in such an odd association of ideas as everyone has experienced—of a thunderstorm. The contrast of its intense brown blotches with the azure throat and the broad, snowy lip, affect me somehow with admiring oppression. Very absurd; buton est fait comme ça, as Nana excused herself. To call this most striking flower "Harryanum" is grotesque. The public is not interested in those circumstances which give the name significance for a few, and if there be any flower which demands an expressive title, it is this, in my judgment. Possibly it was some Indian report which had slipped his recollection that led Roezl to predict the discovery of a new Odontoglot, unlike any other, in the very district whereOd. Harryanumwas found after his death, though the story is quoted as an example of that instinct which guides the heaven-born collector. The first plants came unannounced in a small box sent by Señor Pantocha, of Colombia, to Messrs. Horsman in 1885, and they were flowered next year by Messrs. Veitch. The dullest who sees it can now imagine the excitement when this marvel was displayed, coming from an unknown habitat. Roezl'sprediction occurred to many of his acquaintance, I have heard; but Mr. Sander had a living faith in his old friend's sagacity. Forthwith he despatched a collector to the spot which Roezl had named—but not visited—and found the treasure. The legends of orchidology will be gathered one day, perhaps; and if the editor be competent, his volume should be almost as interesting to the public as to the cognoscenti.
I have been speaking hitherto of Colombian Odontoglossums, which are reckoned among the hardiest of their class. Along with them, in the same temperature, grow the cool Masdevallias, which probably are the most difficult of all to transport. There was once a grand consignment ofMasdevallia Schlimii, which Mr. Roezl despatched on his own account. It contained twenty-seven thousand plants of this species, representing at that time a fortune. Mr. Roezl was the luckiest and most experienced of collectors, and he took special pains with this unique shipment. Among twenty-seven thousand two bits survived when the cases were opened; the agent hurried them off to Stevens's auction-rooms, and sold them forthwith at forty guineas each. But I must stick to Odontoglossums. Speculative as is the business of importing the northern species, to gather those ofPeru and Ecuador is almost desperate. The roads of Colombia are good, the population civilized, conveniences abound, if we compare that region with the orchid-bearing territories of the south. There is a fortune to be secured by anyone who will bring to market a lot ofO. nœveumin fair condition. Its habitat is perfectly well known. I am not aware that it has a delicate constitution; but no collector is so rash or so enthusiastic as to try that adventure again, now that its perils are understood; and no employer is so reckless as to urge him. The true variety ofO. Halliistands in much the same case. To obtain it the explorer must march in the bed of a torrent and on the face of a precipice alternately for an uncertain period of time, with a river to cross about every day. And he has to bring back his loaded mules, or Indians, over the same pathless waste. The Roraima Mountain begins to be regarded as quite easy travel for the orchid-hunter nowadays. If I mention that the canoe-work on this route demands thirty-two portages, thirty-two loadings and unloadings of the cargo, the reader can judge what a "difficult road" must be. Ascending the Roraima, Mr. Dressel, collecting for Mr. Sander, lost his herbarium in the Essequibo River. Savants alone are able to estimate the awful nature of the crisiswhen a comrade looses his grip of that treasure. For them it is needless to add that everything else went to the bottom.[2]
One is tempted to linger among the Odontoglots, though time is pressing. In no class of orchids are natural hybrids so mysterious and frequent. Sometimes one can detect the parentage; in such cases, doubtless, the crossing occurred but a few generations back: as a rule, however, such plants are the result of breeding in and in from age to age, causing all manner of delightful complications. How many can trace the lineage of Mr. Bull'sOd. delectabile—ivory white, tinged with rose, strikingly blotched with red and showing a golden labellum? or Mr. Sander'sOd. Alberti-Edwardi, which has a broad soft margin of gold about its stately petals? Another is rosy white, closely splashed with pale purple, and dotted round the edge with spots of the same tint so thickly placed that they resemble a fringe. Such marvels turn up in an importation without the slightest warning—no peculiarity betrays them until the flowers open; when the lucky purchaser discovers that a plant for which he gave perhaps a shilling is worth an indefinite number of guineas.
Lycaste also is a genus peculiar to America,such a favourite among those who know its merits that the speciesL. Skinneriis called the "Drawing-Room Flower." Professor Reichenbach observes in his superb volume that many people utterly ignorant of orchids grow this plant in their miscellaneous collection. I speak of it without prejudice, for to my mind the bloom is stiff, heavy, and poor in colour. But there are tremendous exceptions. In the first place,Lycaste Skinneri alba, the pure white variety, beggars all description. Its great flower seems to be sculptured in the snowiest of transparent marble. That stolid pretentious air which offends one—offends me, at least—in the coloured examples, becomes virginal dignity in this case. Then, of the normal type there are more than a hundred variations recognized, some with lips as deep in tone, and as smooth in texture, as velvet, of all shades from maroon to brightest crimson. It will be understood that I allude to the common forms in depreciating this species. How vast is the difference between them, their commercial value shows. Plants of the same size and the same species range from 3s.6d.to 35 guineas, or more indefinitely.
Lycastes are found in the woods, of Guatemala especially, and I have heard no such adventuresin the gathering of them as attend Odontoglossums. Easily obtained, easily transported, and remarkably easy to grow, of course they are cheap. A man must really "give his mind to it" to kill a Lycaste. This counts for much, no doubt, in the popularity of the genus, but it has plenty of other virtues.L. Skinneriopens in the depth of winter, and all the rest, I think, in the dull months. Then, they are profuse of bloom, throwing up half a dozen spikes, or, in some species, a dozen, from a single bulb, and the flowers last a prodigious time. Their extraordinary thickness in every part enables them to withstand bad air and changes of temperature, so that ladies keep them on a drawing-room table, night and day, for months, without change perceptible. Mr. Williams names an instance where aL. Skinneri, bought in full bloom on February 2, was kept in a sitting-room till May 18, when the purchaser took it back, still handsome. I have heard cases more surprising. Of species somewhat less common there isL. aromatica, a little gem, which throws up an indefinite number of short spikes, each crowned with a greenish yellow triangular sort of cup, deliciously scented. I am acquainted with no flower that excites such enthusiasm among ladies who fancy Messrs. Liberty's style of toilette; sad experience tells me that ten commandments or twenty will not restrain them from appropriating it.L. cruentais almost as tempting. As forL. leucanthe, an exquisite combination of pale green and snow white, it ranks withL. Skinneri albaas a thing too beautiful for words. This species has not been long introduced, and at the moment it is dear proportionately. There is yet another virtue of the Lycaste which appeals to the expert. It lends itself readily to hybridization. This most fascinating pursuit attracts few amateurs as yet, and the professionals have little time or inclination for experiments. They naturally prefer to make such crosses as are almost certain to pay. Thus it comes about that the hybridization of Lycastes has been attempted but recently, and none of the seedlings, so far as I can learn, have flowered. They have been obtained, however, in abundance, not only from direct crossing, but also from alliance with Zygopetalum, Anguloa, and Maxillaria.
The genus Cypripedium, Lady's Slipper, is perhaps more widely scattered over the globe than any other class of plant; I, at least, am acquainted with none that approaches it. From China to Peru—nay, beyond, from Archangel to Torres Straits,—but it is wise to avoid these semi-poeticdescriptions. In brief, if we except Africa and the temperate parts of Australia, there is no large tract of country in the world that does not produce Cypripediums; and few authorities doubt that a larger acquaintance with those realms will bring them under the rule. We have a species in England,C. calceolus, by no means insignificant; it can be purchased from the dealers, but it is almost extinct in this country now. America furnishes a variety of species; which ought to be hardy. They will bear a frost below zero, but our winter damp is intolerable. Mr. Godseff tells me that he has seenC. spectabilegrowing like any water-weed in the bogs of New Jersey, where it is frozen hard, roots and all, for several months of the year; but very few survive the season in this country, even if protected. Those fine specimens so common at our spring shows are imported in the dry state. From the United States also we get the charmingC. candidum,C. parviflorum,C. pubescens, and many more less important. Canada and Siberia furnishC. guttatum,C. macranthum, and others. I saw in Russia, and brought home, a magnificent species, tall and stately, bearing a great golden flower, which is not known "in the trade;" but they all rotted gradually. Therefore I do not recommend these fine outdoor varieties,which the inexperienced are apt to think so easy. At the same cost others may be bought, which, coming from the highlands of hot countries, are used to a moderate damp in winter.
Foremost of these, perhaps the oldest of cool orchids in cultivation, isC. insigne, from Nepal. Everyone knows its original type, which has grown so common that I remarked a healthy pot at a window-garden exhibition some years ago in Westminster. One may say that this, the early and familiar form, has no value at present, so many fine varieties have been introduced. A reader may form a notion of the difference when I state that a small plant of exceptional merit sold for thirty guineas a short time ago—it wasC. insigne, but glorified. This ranks among the fascinations of orchid culture. You may buy a lot of some common kind, imported, at a price representing coppers for each individual, and among them may appear, when they come to bloom, an eccentricity which sells for a hundred pounds or more. The experienced collector has a volume of such legends. There is another side to the question, truly, but it does not personally interest the class which I address. To make a choice among numberless stories of this sort, we may take the instance ofC. Spicerianum.
It turned up among a quantity ofCypripedium insignein the greenhouse of Mrs. Spicer, a lady residing at Twickenham. Astonished at the appearance of this swan among her ducks, she asked Mr. Veitch to look at it. He was delighted to pay seventy guineas down for such a prize. Cypripediums propagate easily, no more examples came into the market, and for some years this lovely species was a treasure for dukes and millionaires. It was no secret that the precious novelty came from Mrs. Spicer's greenhouse; but to call on a strange lady and demand how she became possessed of a certain plant is not a course of action that commends itself to respectable business men. The circumstances gave no clue. Messrs. Spicer were and are large manufacturers of paper; there is no visible connection betwixt paper and Indian orchids. By discreet inquiries, however, it was ascertained that one of the lady's sons had a tea-plantation in Assam. No more was needed. By the next mail Mr. Forstermann started for that vague destination, and in process of time reached Mr. Spicer's bungalow. There he asked for "a job." None could be found for him; but tea-planters are hospitable, and the stranger was invited to stop a day or two. But he could not lead the conversation towards orchids—perhapsbecause his efforts were too clever, perhaps because his host took no interest in the subject. One day, however, Mr. Spicer's manager invited him to go shooting, and casually remarked "we shall pass the spot where I found those orchids they're making such a fuss about at home." Be sure Mr. Forstermann was alert that morning! Thus put upon the track, he discovered quantities of it, bade the tea-planter adieu, and went to work; but in the very moment of triumph a tiger barred the way, his coolies bolted, and nothing would persuade them to go further. Mr. Forstermann was no shikari, but he felt himself called upon to uphold the cause of science and the honour of England at this juncture. In great agitation he went for that feline, and, in short, its skin still adorns Mrs. Sander's drawing-room. Thus it happened that on a certain Thursday a small pot ofC. Spicerianumwas sold, as usual, for sixty guineas at Stevens's; on the Thursday following all the world could buy fine plants at a guinea.
Cypripedium is the favourite orchid of the day. It has every advantage, except, to my perverse mind—brilliancy of colour. None show a whole tone; even the lovelyC. niveumis not pure white. My views, however, find no backing. At all otherpoints the genus deserves to be a favourite. In the first place, it is the most interesting of all orchids to science.[3]Then its endless variations of form, its astonishing oddities, its wide range of hues, its easy culture, its readiness to hybridize and to ripen seed, the certainty, by comparison, of rearing the proceeds, each of these merits appeals to one or other of orchid-growers. Many of the species which come from torrid lands, indeed, are troublesome, but with such we are not concerned. The cool varieties will do well anywhere, provided they receive water enough in summer, and not too little in winter. I do not speak of the American and Siberian classes, which are nearly hopeless for the amateur, nor of the Hong-KongCypripedium purpuratum, a very puzzling example.
On the roll of martyrs to orchidology, Mr. Pearce stands high. To him we owe, among many fine things, the hybrid Begonias which are becoming such favourites for bedding and other purposes. He discovered the three original types, parents of the innumerable "garden flowers" now on sale—Begonia Pearcii,B. Veitchii, andB. Boliviensis. It was his great luck, and great honour, to findMasdevallia Veitchii—so long, so often, so laboriously searched for from that day to this, but never even heard of. To collect another shipment of that glorious orchid, Mr. Pearce sailed for Peru, in the service, I think, of Mr. Bull. Unhappily—for us all as well as for himself—he was detained at Panama. Somewhere in those parts there is a magnificent Cypripedium with which we are acquainted only by the dried inflorescence, namedplanifolium. The poor fellow could not resist this temptation. They told him at Panama that no white man had returned from the spot, but he went on. The Indians brought him back, some days or weeks later, without the prize; and he died on arrival.
Oncidiums also are a product of the New World exclusively; in fact, of the four classes most useful to amateurs, three belong wholly to America, and the fourth in great part. I resist the temptation to include Masdevallia, because that genus is not so perfectly easy as the rest; but if it be added, nine-tenths, assuredly, of the plants in our cool house come from the West. Among the special merits of the Oncidium is its colour. I have heard thoughtless persons complain that they are "all yellow;" which, as a statement of fact, is near enough to the truth, for about three-fourths may be so described roughly. But this dispensation isanother proof of Nature's kindly regard for the interests of our science. A clear, strong, golden yellow is the colour that would have been wanting in our cool houses had not the Oncidium supplied it. Shades of lemon and buff are frequent among Odontoglossums, but, in a rough, general way of speaking, they have a white ground. Masdevallias give us scarlet and orange and purple; Lycastes, green and dull yellow; Sophronitis, crimson; Mesospinidium, rose, and so forth. Blue must not be looked for. Even counting the new Utricularia for an orchid, as most people do, there are, I think, but five species that will live among us at present, in all the prodigious family, showing this colour; and every one of them is very "hot." Thus it appears that the Oncidium fills a gap—and how gloriously! There is no such pure gold in the scheme of the universe as it displays under fifty shapes wondrously varied. Thus—Oncidium macranthum!one is continually tempted to exclaim, as one or other glory of the orchid world recurs to mind, that it is the supreme triumph of floral beauty. I have sinned thus, and I know it. Therefore, let the reader seek an opportunity to beholdO. macranthum, and judge for himself. But it seems to me that Nature gives us a hint. As though proudly conscious what amarvel it will unfold, this superb flower often demands nine months to perfect itself. Dr. Wallace told me of an instance in his collection where eighteen months elapsed from the appearance of the spike until the opening of the first bloom. But it lasts a time proportionate.