Oncidium macranthum.
Nature forestalled the dreams of æsthetic colourists when she designedOncidium macranthum. Thus, and not otherwise, would the thoughtful of them arrange a "harmony" in gold and bronze; but Nature, with characteristic indifference to the fancies of mankind, hid herchef-d'œuvrein the wilds of Ecuador. Hardly less striking, however, though perhaps less beautiful, are its sisters of the "small-lipped" species—Onc. serratum,O. superbiens, andO. sculptum. This last is rarely seen. As with others of its class, the spike grows very long, twelve feet perhaps, if it were allowed to stretch. The flowers are small comparatively, clear bronze-brown, highly polished, so closely and daintily frilled round the edges that a fairy goffering-iron could not give more regular effects, and outlined by a narrow band of gold.Onc. serratumhas a much larger bloom, but less compact, rather fly-away indeed, its sepals widening gracefully from a narrow neck. Excessively curious is the disposition of the petals, which close their tips to forma circle of brown and gold around the column. The purpose of this extraordinary arrangement—unique among orchids, I believe—will be discovered one day, for purpose there is, no doubt; to judge by analogy, it may be supposed that the insect upon whichOnc. serratumdepends for fertilization likes to stand upon this ring while thrusting its proboscis into the nectary. The fourth of these fine species,Onc. superbiens, ranks among the grandest of flowers—knowing its own value, it rarely consents to "oblige;" the dusky green sepals are margined with yellow, petals white, clouded with pale purple, lip very small, of course, purple, surmounted by a great golden crest.
Most strange and curious isOnc. fuscatum, of which the shape defies description. Seen from the back, it shows a floriated cross of equal limbs; but in front the nethermost is hidden by a spreading lip, very large proportionately. The prevailing tint is a dun-purple, but each arm has a broad white tip. Dun-purple, also, is the centre of the labellum, edged with a distinct band of lighter hue, which again, towards the margin, becomes white. These changes of tone are not gradual, but as clear as a brush could make them. Botanists must long to dissect this extraordinary flower, but the opportunity seldom occurs. It is desperately puzzlingto understand how nature has packed away the component parts of its inflorescence, so as to resolve them into four narrow arms and a labellum. But the colouring of this plant is not always dull. In the small Botanic Garden at Florence, by Santa Maria Maggiore, I remarked with astonishment anOnc. fuscatum, of which the lip was scarlet-crimson and the other tints bright to match. That collection is admirably grown, but orchids are still scarce in Italy. The Society did not know what a prize it had secured by chance.
The genus Oncidium has, perhaps, more examples of a startling combination in hues than any other—but one must speak thoughtfully and cautiously upon such points.
I have not to deal with culture, but one hint may be given. Gardeners who have a miscellaneous collection to look after, often set themselves against an experiment in orchid-growing because these plants suffer terribly from green-fly and other pests, and will not bear "smoking." To keep them clean and healthy by washing demands labour for which they have no time. This is a very reasonable objection. But though the smoke of tobacco is actual ruination, no plant whatever suffers from the steam thereof. An ingenious Frenchman has invented and patented in Englandlately a machine called the Thanatophore, which I confidently recommend. It can be obtained from Messrs. B.S. Williams, of Upper Holloway. The Thanatophore destroys every insect within reach of its vapour, excepting, curiously enough, scaly-bug, which, however, does not persecute cool orchids much. The machine may be obtained in different sizes through any good ironmonger.
To sum up: these plants ask nothing in return for the measureless enjoyment they give but light, shade from the summer sun, protection from the winter frost, moisture—and brains.
I am allowed to print a letter which bears upon several points to which I have alluded. It is not cheerful reading for the enthusiast. He will be apt to cry, "Would that the difficulties and perils were infinitely graver—so grave that the collecting grounds might have a rest for twenty years!"
January 19th, 1893.
Dear Sir,
I have received your two letters asking forCattleya Lawrenceana,Pancratium Guianense, andCatasetum pileatum. Kindly excuse my answering your letters only to-day. But I have beenaway in the interior, and on my return was sick, besides other business taking up my time; I was unable to write until to-day. Now let me give you some information concerning orchid-collecting in this colony. Six or seven years ago, just when the gold industry was starting, very few people ever ventured in the far interior. Boats, river-hands, and Indians could be hired at ridiculously low prices, and travelling and bartering paid; wages for Indians being about a shilling per day, and all found; the same for river-hands. Captains and boatswains to pilot the boat through the rapids up and down for sixty-four cents a day. To-day you have got to pay sixty-four to eighty cents per day for Indians and river-hands. Captains and boatswains, $2 the former, and $1:50 the latter per day, and then you often cannot get them. Boat-hire used to be $8 to $10 for a big boat for three to four months; to-day $5, $6, and $7 per day, and all through the rapid development of the gold industry. As you can calculate twenty-five days' river travel to get within reach of the Savannah lands, you can reckon what the expenses must be, and then again about five to seven days coming down the river, and a couple of days to lay over. Then you must count two trips like this, one to bring you up, and one to bring youdown three months after, when you return with your collection. Besides this, you run the risk of losing your boat in the rapids either way, which happens not very unfrequently either going or coming; and we have not only to record the loss of several boats with goods, etc., every month, but generally to record the loss of life; only two cases happening last month, in one case seven, in the other twelve men losing their lives. Besides, river-hands and blacks will not go further than the boats can travel, and nothing will induce them to go among the Indians, being afraid of getting poisoned by Inds. (Kaiserimas) or strangled. So you have to rely utterly on Indians, which you often cannot get, as the district of Roraima is very poorly inhabited, and most of the Indians died by smallpox and measles breaking out among them four years ago, and those that survived left the district, and you will find whole districts nearly uninhabited. About five years ago I went up with Mr. Osmers to Roraima, but he broke down before we reached the Savannah. He lay there for a week, and I gave him up; he recovered, however, and dragged himself into the Savannah near Roraima, about three days distant from it, where I left him. Here we found and made a splendid collection of about 3000 first-class plants of different kinds.
While I was going up to Roraima, he stayed in the Savannah, still too sick to go further. At Roraima I collected everything exceptCatt. Lawrenceana, which was utterly rooted out already by former collectors. On my return to Osmers' camp, I found him more dead than alive, thrown down by a new attack of sickness; but not alone that, I also found him abandoned by most of our Indians, who had fled on account of the Kanaima having killed three of their number. So Mr. Osmers—who got soon better—and I, made up our baskets with plants, and made everything ready. Our Indians returning partly, I sent him ahead with as many loads as we could carry, I staying behind with the rest of baskets of plants. Had all our Indians come back, we would have been all right, but this not being the case I had to stay until the Indians returned and fetched me off. After this we got back all right. This was before the sickness broke out among the Indians.
Last year I went up with Mr. Kromer, who met me going up-river while I was coming down. So I joined him. We got up all right to the river's head, but here our troubles began, as we got only about eight Indians to go on with us who had worked in the gold-diggings, and no others could be had, the district being abandoned. We had topay them half a dollar a day to carry loads. So we pushed on, carrying part of our loads, leaving the rest of our cargo behind, until we reached the Savannah, when we had to send them back several times to get the balance of our goods. From the time we reached the Savannah we were starving, more or less, as we could procure only very little provisions. We hunted all about forCatt. Lawrenceana, and got only about 1500 or so, it growing only here and there. At Roraima we did not hunt at all, as the district is utterly rubbed out by the Indians. We were about fourteen days at Roraima and got plenty ofUtricularia Campbelliana,U. Humboldtii, andU. montana. AlsoZygopetalum,Cyp. Lindleyanum,Oncidium nigratum(only fifty—very rare now),Cypripedium Schomburgkianum,Zygopetalum Burkeii, and in fact, all that is to be found on and about Roraima, except theCattleya Lawrenceana. Also plenty others, as Sobralia, Liliastrum, etc. So our collection was not a very great one; we had the hardest trouble now through the want of Indians to carry the loads. Besides this, the rainy weather set in and our loads suffered badly for all the care we took of them. Besides, the Indians got disagreeable, having to go back several times to bring the remaining baskets. Nevertheless, we got down asfar as the Curubing mountains. Up to this time we were more or less always starving. Arrived at the Curubing mountains, procured a scant supply of provisions, but lost nearly all of them in a small creek, and what was saved was spoiling under our eyes, it being then that the rainy season had fully started, drenching us from morning to night. It took us nine days to get our loads over the mountain, where our boat was to reach us to take us down river. And we were for two and a half days entirely without food. Besides the plants being damaged by stress of weather, the Indians had opened the baskets and thrown partly the loads away, not being able to carry the heavy soaked-through baskets over the mountains, so making us lose the best of our plants.
Arrived at our landing we had to wait for our boat, which arrived a week later in consequence of the river being high, and, of course, short of provisions. Still, we got away with what we had of our loads until we reached the first gold places kept by a friend of mine, who supplied us with food. Thereafter we started for town. Halfway, at Kapuri falls (one of the most dangerous), we swamped down over a rock, and so we lost some of our things; still saved all our plants, though they lay for a few hours under water with the boat.After this we reached town in safety. So after coming home we found, on packing up, that we had only about 900 plants, that is,Cattleya Lawrenceana, of which about one-third good, one-third medium, and one-third poor quality. This trip took us about three and a half months, and cost over 2500 dollars. Besides, I having poisoned my leg on a rotten stump which I run up in my foot, lay for four months suffering terrible pain.
You will, of course, see from this that orchid-hunting is no pleasure, as you of course know, but what I want to point out to you is thatCattleya Lawrenceanais very rare in the interior now.
The river expenses fearfully high, in fact, unreasonably high, on account of the gold-digging. Labourers getting 64 c. to $1.00 per day, and all found. No Indians to be got, and those that you can get at ridiculous prices, and getting them, too, by working on places where they build and thatch houses and clear the ground from underbush, and as huntsmen for gold-diggers. Even if Mr. Kromer had succeeded to get 3000 or 4000 fineCattleya Lawrenceana, it would have been of no value to us, as we could not have got anybody to carry them to the river where a boat could reach. Besides this, I also must tell you that there is a license to be paid out here if you want to collect orchids,amounting to $100, which Mr. Kromer had to pay, and also an export tax duty of 2 cents per piece. So that orchid collecting is made a very expensive affair. Besides its success being very doubtful, even if a man is very well acquainted with Indian life and has visited the Savannah reaches year after year. We spent something over $2500 to $2900, including Mr. Kromer's and Steigfer's passage out, on our last expedition.
If you want to get anyLawrenceana, you will have to send yourself, and as I said before, the results will be very doubtful. As far as I myself am concerned, I am interested besides my baking business, in the gold-diggings, and shall go up to the Savannah in a few months. I can give you first-class references if you should be willing to send an expedition, and we could come to some arrangement; at least, you would save the expenses of the passage of one of your collectors. I may say that I am quite conversant with the way of packing orchids and handling them as well for travel as shipment.
Kindly excuse, therefore, my lengthy letter and its bad writing. And if you should be inclined to go in for an expedition, just send me a list of what you require, and I will tell you whether the plants are found along the route of travel and in theSavannah visited; as, for instance,Catt. superbadoes not grow at all in the district whereCatt. Lawrenceanais to be found, but far further south.
Before closing, I beg you to let me know the prices of about twenty-five of the best of and prettiest South American orchids, which I want for my own collection, asCatt. Medellii,Catt. Trianæ,Odontoglossum crispum,Miltonia vexillaria,Catt. labiata, &c.
I shall await your answer as soon as possible, and send you a list by last mail of what is to be got in this colony.
We also found on our last visit something new—a very large bulbed Oncidium, or may be Catasetum, on the top of Roraima, where we spent a night, but got only two specimens, one of which got lost, and the other one I left in the hands of Mr. Rodway, but so we tried our best. It decayed, having been too seriously damaged to revive and flower, and so enable us to see what it was, it not being in flower when found.
Awaiting your kind reply,Yours truly,
Seyler.
P.S.—If you should send out one of your collectors, or require any information, I shall be glad to give it.
One of the most experienced collectors, M. Oversluys, writes from the Rio de Yanayacca, January, 1893:—
"Here it is absolutely necessary that one goes himself into the woods ahead of the peons, who are quite cowards to enter the woods; and not altogether without reason, for the larger part of them get sick here, and it is very hard to enter—nearly impenetrable and full of insects, which make fresh-coming people to get cracked and mad. I have from the wrist down not a place to put in a shilling piece which is not a wound, through the very small red spider and other insects. Also my people are the same. Of the five men I took out, two have got fever already, and one ran back. To-morrow I expect other peons, but not a single one from Mengobamba. It is a trouble to get men who will come into the woods, and I cannot have more than eight or ten to work with, because when I should not be continually behind them or ahead they do nothing. It is not a question of money to do good here, but merely luck and the way one treats people. The peons come out less for their salaries than for good and plenty of food, which is very difficult to find in these scarce times....
"The plants are here one by one, and we have got but one tree with three plants. They are onthe highest and biggest trees, and these must be cut down with axes. Below are all shrubs, full of climbers and lianas about a finger thick. Every step must be cut to advance, and the ground cleared below the high trees in order to spy the branches. It is a very difficult job. Nature has well protected this Cattleya.... Nobody can like this kind of work."
The poor man ends abruptly, "I will write when I can—the mosquitos don't leave me a moment."
FOOTNOTES:[2]See a letter at p. 92.[3]Vide"Orchids and Hybridizing,"infra, p. 210.
[2]See a letter at p. 92.
[2]See a letter at p. 92.
[3]Vide"Orchids and Hybridizing,"infra, p. 210.
[3]Vide"Orchids and Hybridizing,"infra, p. 210.
By the expression "warm" we understand that condition which is technically known as "intermediate." It is waste of time to ask, at this day, why a Latin combination should be employed when there is an English monosyllable exactly equivalent; we, at least, will use our mother-tongue. Warm orchids are those which like a minimum temperature, while growing, of 60°; while resting, of 55°. As for the maximum, it signifies little in the former case, but in the latter—during the months of rest—it cannot be allowed to go beyond 60°, for any length of time, without mischief. These conditions mean, in effect, that the house must be warmed during nine months of the twelve in this realm of England. "Hot" orchids demand a fire the whole year round—saving a few very rare nights when the Briton swelters in tropical discomfort. Upon this dry subject of temperature, however, I would add one word of encouragement for those who are not willing to paya heavy bill for coke. The cool-house, in general, requires a fire, at night, until June 1. Under that condition, if it face the south, in a warm locality, very many genera and species classed as intermediate should be so thoroughly started before artificial heat is withdrawn that they will do excellently, unless the season be unusual.
Warm orchids come from a sub-tropic region, or from the mountains of a hotter climate, where their kinsfolk dwelling in the plains defy the thermometer; just as in sub-tropic lands warm species occupy the lowlands, while the heights furnish Odontoglossums and such lovers of a chilly atmosphere. There are, however, some warm Odontoglossums, notable among themO. vexillarium, which botanists class with the Miltonias. This species is very fashionable, and I give it the place of honour; but not, in my own view, for its personal merits. The name is so singularly appropriate that one would like to hear the inventor's reasons for transfiguring it.Vexillumwe know, andvexillarius, butvexillariumgoes beyond my Latin. However, it is an intelligible word, and those acquainted with the appearance of "regimental colours" in Old Rome perceive its fitness at a glance. The flat bloom seems to hang suspended from its centre, just as thevexillumfigures in bas-relief—on the Arch of Antoninus, forexample. To my mind the colouring is insipid, as a rule, and the general effect stark—fashion in orchids, as in other things, has little reference to taste. I repeat with emphasis,as a rule, for some priceless specimens are no less than astounding in their blaze of colour, the quintessence of a million uninteresting blooms. The poorest of these plants have merit, no doubt, for those who can accommodate giants. They grow fast and big. There are specimens in this country a yard across, which display a hundred and fifty or two hundred flowers open at the same time for months. A superb show they make, rising over the pale sea-green foliage, four spikes perhaps from a single bulb. But this is a beauty of general effect, which must not be analyzed, as I think.
Odontoglossum vexillariumis brought from Colombia. There are two forms: the one—small, evenly red, flowering in autumn—was discovered by Frank Klaboch, nephew to the famous Roezl, on the Dagua River, in Antioquia. For eight years he persisted in despatching small quantities to Europe, though every plant died; at length a safer method of transmission was found, but simultaneously poor Klaboch himself succumbed. It is an awful country—perhaps the wettest under the sun. Though a favourite hunting-ground ofcollectors now—for Cattleyas of value come from hence, besides this precious Odontoglot—there are still no means of transport, saving Indians and canoes.O. vexillariumwould not be thought costly if buyers knew how rare it is, how expensive to get, and how terribly difficult to bring home. Forty thousand pieces were despatched to Mr. Sander in one consignment—he hugged himself with delight when three thousand proved to have some trace of vitality.
Mr. Watson, Assistant Curator at Kew, recalls an amusing instance of the value and the mystery attached to this species so late as 1867. In that year Professor Reichenbach described it for the first time. He tells how a friend lent him the bloom upon a negative promise under five heads—"First, not to show it to any one else; (2) not to speak much about it; (3) not to take a drawing of it; (4) not to have a photograph made; (5) not to look oftener than three times at it." By-the-bye, Mr. Watson gives the credit of the first discovery to the late Mr. Bowman; but I venture to believe that my account is exact—in reference to the Antioquia variety, at least.
The other form occurs in the famous district of Frontino, about two hundred and fifty miles due north of the first habitat, and shows—savantswould add "of course"—a striking difference. In the geographical distinctions of species will be found the key to whole volumes of mystery that perplex us now. I once saw three Odontoglossums ranged side by side, which even an expert would pronounce mere varieties of the same plant if he were not familiar with them—Od. Williamsi,Od. grande, andOd. Schlieperianum. The middle one everybody knows, by sight at least, a big, stark, spread-eagle flower, gamboge yellow mottled with red-brown, vastly effective in the mass, but individually vulgar. On one side wasOd. Williamsi, essentially the same in flower and bulb and growth, but smaller; opposite stoodOd. Schlieperianum, only to be distinguished as smaller still. But both these latter rank as species. They are separated from the common type,O. grande, by nearly ten degrees of latitude and ten degrees of longitude, nor—we might almost make an affidavit—do any intermediate forms exist in the space between; and those degrees are sub-tropical, by so much more significant than an equal distance in our zone. Instances of the same class and more surprising are found in many genera of orchid.
The Frontinovexillariumgrows "cooler," has a much larger bloom, varies in hue from purest white to deepest red, and flowers in May or June.The most glorious of these things, however, isO. vex. superbum, a plant of the greatest rarity, conspicuous for its blotch of deep purple in the centre of the lip, and its little dot of the same on each wing. Doubtless this is a natural hybrid betwixt the Antioquia form andOdontoglossum Roezlii, which is its neighbour. The chance of finding a bit ofsuperbumin a bundle of the ordinary kind lends peculiar excitement to a sale of these plants. Such luck first occurred to Mr. Bath, in Stevens' Auction Rooms. He paid half-a-crown for a very weakly fragment, brought it round, flowered it, and received a prize for good gardening in the shape of seventy-two pounds, cheerfully paid by Sir Trevor Lawrence for a plant unique at that time. I am reminded of another little story. Among a great number ofCypripedium insignereceived at St. Albans, and "established," Mr. Sander noted one presently of which the flower-stalk was yellow instead of brown, as is usual. Sharp eyes are a valuable item of the orchid-grower's stock-in-trade, for the smallest peculiarity among such "sportive" objects should not be neglected. Carefully he put the yellow stalk aside—the only one among thousands, one might say myriads, sinceC. insigneis one of our oldest and commonest orchids,and it never showed this phenomenon before. In due course the flower opened, and proved to be all golden! Mr. Sander cut his plant in two, sold half for seventy-five pounds to a favoured customer, and the other half, publicly, for one hundred guineas. One of the purchasers has divided his plant now and sold two bits at 100 guineas. Another piece was bought back by Mr. Sander, who wanted it for hybridizing, at 250 guineas—not a bad profit for the buyer, who has still two plants left. Another instance occurs to me while I write—such legends of shrewdness worthily rewarded fascinate a poor journalist who has the audacity to grow orchids. Mr. Harvey, solicitor, of Liverpool, strolling through the houses at St. Albans on July 24, 1883, remarked a plant ofLœlia anceps, which had the ring-mark on its pseudo-bulb much higher up than is usual. There might be some meaning in that eccentricity, he thought, paid two guineas for the little thing, and on December 1, 1888, sold it back to Mr. Sander for 200l.It proved to beL. a. Amesiana, the grandest form ofL. ancepsyet discovered—rosy white, with petals deeply splashed; thus named after F.L. Ames, an American amateur. Such pleasing opportunities might arise for you or me any day.
The first name that arises to most people in thinking of warm orchids is Cattleya, and naturally. The genus Odontoglossum alone has more representatives under cultivation. Sixty species of Cattleya are grown by amateurs who pay special attention to these plants; as for the number of "varieties" in a single species, one boasts forty, another thirty, several pass the round dozen. They are exclusively American, but they flourish over all the enormous space between Mexico and the Argentine Republic. The genus is not a favourite of my own, for somewhat of the same reason which qualifies my regard forO. vexillarium. Cattleyas are so obtrusively beautiful, they have such great flowers, which they thrust upon the eye with such assurance of admiration! Theirs is a style of effect—I refer to the majority—which may be called infantine; such as an intelligent and tasteful child might conceive if he had no fine sense of colour, and were too young to distinguish a showy from a charming form. But I say no more.
The history of Orchids long established is uncertain, but I believe that the very first Cattleya which appeared in Europe wasC. violacea Loddigesi, imported by the great firm whose name it bears, to which we owe such a heavy debt. Twoyears later cameC. labiata, of which more must be said; thenC. Mossiæ, from Caraccas; fourth,C. Trianænamed after Colonel Trian, of Tolima, in the United States of Colombia. Trian well deserved immortality, for he was a native of that secluded land—and a botanist! It is a natural supposition that his orchid must be the commonest of weeds in its home; seeing how all Europe is stocked with it, and America also, rash people might say there are millions in cultivation. But it seems likely thatC. Trianæwas never very frequent, and at the present time assuredly it is so scarce that collectors are not sent after it. Probably the colonel, like many othersavants, was an excellent man of business, and he established "a corner" when he saw the chance.C. Mossiæstands in the same situation—or indeed worse; it can scarcely be found now. These instances convey a serious warning. In seventy years we have destroyed the native stock of two orchids, both so very free in propagating that they have an exceptional advantage in the struggle for existence. How long can rare species survive, when the demand strengthens and widens year by year, while the means of communication and transport become easier over all the world? Other instances will be mentioned in their place.
Island species are doomed, unless, likeLœlia elegans, they have inaccessible crags on which to find refuge. It is only a question of time; but we may hope that Governments will interfere before it is too late. Already Mr. Burbidge has suggested that "some one" who takes an interest in orchids should establish a farm, a plantation, here and there about the world, where such plants grow naturally, and devote himself to careful hybridization on the spot. "One might make as much," he writes, "by breeding orchids as by breeding cattle, and of the two, in the long run, I should prefer the orchid farm." This scheme will be carried out one day, not so much for the purpose of hybridization as for plain "market-gardening;" and the sooner the better.
The prospect is still more dark for those who believe—as many do—that no epiphytal orchid under any circumstances can be induced to establish itself permanently in our greenhouses as it does at home. Doubtless, they say, it is possible to grow them and to flower them, by assiduous care, upon a scale which is seldom approached under the rough treatment of Nature. But they are dying from year to year, in spite of appearances. That it is so in a few cases can hardly be denied; but, seeing how many plants which have not changedhands since their establishment, twenty or thirty or forty years ago, have grown continually bigger and finer, it seems much more probable that our ignorance is to blame for the loss of those species which suddenly collapse. Sir Trevor Lawrence observed the other day: "With regard to the longevity of orchids, I have one which I know to have been in this country for more than fifty years, probably even twenty years longer than that—Renanthera coccinea." The finest specimens of Cattleya in Mr. Stevenson Clarke's houses have been "grown on" from small pieces imported twenty years ago. If there were more collections which could boast, say, half a century of uninterrupted attention, we should have material for forming a judgment; as a rule, the dates of purchase or establishment were not carefully preserved till late years.
But there is one species of Cattleya which must needs have seventy years of existence in Europe, since it had never been re-discovered till 1890. When we see a pot ofC. labiata, the true, autumn-flowering variety, more than two years old, we know that the very plant itself must have been established about 1818, or at least its immediate parent—for no seedling has been raised to public knowledge.[4]
In avowing a certain indifference to Cattleyas, I referred to the bulk, of course. The most gorgeous, the stateliest, the most imperial of all flowers on this earth, isC. Dowiana—unless it beC. aurea, a "geographical variety" of the same. They dwell a thousand miles apart at least, the one in Colombia, the other in Costa Rica; and neither occurs, so far as is known, in the great intervening region. Not even a connecting link has been discovered; but the Atlantic coast of Central America is hardly explored, much less examined. In my time it was held, from Cape Camarin to Chagres, by independent tribes of savages—not independent in fact alone, but in name also. The Mosquito Indians are recognized by Europe as free; the Guatusos kept a space of many hundred miles from which no white man had returned; when I was in those parts, the Talamancas, though not so unfriendly, were only known by the report of adventurous pedlars. I made an attempt—comparatively spirited—to organize an exploring party for the benefit of the Guatusos, but no single volunteer answered our advertisements in San José de Costa Rica; I have lived to congratulate myself on that disappointment. Since my day a road has been cut through their wilds to Limon, certain luckless Britons having found the money for a railway;but an engineer who visited the coast but two years ago informs me that no one ever wandered into "the bush." Collectors have not been there, assuredly. So there may be connecting links betweenC. DowianaandC. aureain that vast wilderness, but it is quite possible there are none.
Words could not picture the glory of these marvels. In each the scheme of colour is yellow and crimson, but there are important modifications. Yellow is the ground all through inCattleya aurea—sepals, petals, and lip; unbroken in the two former, in the latter superbly streaked with crimson. ButCattleya Dowianashows crimson pencillings on its sepals, while the ground colour of the lip is crimson, broadly lined and reticulated with gold. Imagine four of these noble flowers on one stalk, each half a foot across! But it lies beyond the power of imagination.
C. Dowianawas discovered by Warscewicz about 1850, and he sent home accounts too enthusiastic for belief. Steady-going Britons utterly refused to credit such a marvel—his few plants died, and there was an end of it for the time. I may mention an instance of more recent date, where the eye-witness of a collector was flatly rejected at home. Monsieur St. Leger, residing at Asuncion, the capital of Paraguay, wrote a warm description ofan orchid in those parts to scientific friends. The account reached England, and was treated with derision. Monsieur St. Leger, nettled, sent some dried flowers for a testimony; but the mind of the Orchidaceous public was made up. In 1883 he brought a quantity of plants and put them up at auction; nobody in particular would buy. So those reckless or simple or trusting persons who invested a few shillings in a bundle had all the fun to themselves a few months afterwards, when the beautifulOncidium Jonesianumappeared, to confound the unbelieving. It must be added, however, that orchid-growers may well become an incredulous generation. When their judgment leads them wrong we hear of it, the tale is published, and outsiders mock. But these gentlemen receive startling reports continually, honest enough for the most part. Much experience and some loss have made them rather cynical when a new wonder is announced. The particular case of Monsieur St. Leger was complicated by the extreme resemblance which the foliage ofOnc. Jonesianumbears to that ofOnc. cibolletum, a species almost worthless. Unfortunately the beautiful thing declines to live with us—as yet.
Cattleya Dowianawas rediscovered by Mr. Arce, when collecting birds: it must have been agrand moment for Warscewicz when the horticultural world was convulsed by its appearance in bloom.Cattleya aureahad no adventures of this sort. Mr. Wallis found it in 1868 in the province of Antioquia, and again on the west bank of the Magdalena; but it is very rare. This species is persecuted in its native home by a beetle, which accompanies it to Europe not infrequently—in the form of eggs, no doubt. A more troublesome alien is the fly which hauntsCattleya Mendellii, and for a long time prejudiced growers against that fine species, until, in fact, they had made a practical and rather costly study of its habits. An experienced grower detects the presence of this enemy at a glance. It pierces an "eye"—a back one in general, happily—and deposits an egg in the very centre. Presently this growth begins to swell in a manner that delights the ingenuous horticulturist, until he remarks that its length does not keep pace with its breadth. But one remedy has yet been discovered—cutting off any suspected growth. We understand now thatC. Mendelliiis as safe to import as any other species, unless it be gathered at the wrong time.[5]
Among the most glorious, rarest, and most valuable of Cattleyas isC. Hardyana, doubtless a natural hybrid ofC. aureawithC. gigas Sanderiana. Few of us have seen it—two-hundred-guinea plants are not common spectacles. It has an immense flower, rose-purple; the lip purple-magenta, veined with gold.Cattleya Sanderianaoffers an interesting story. Mr. Mau, one of Mr. Sander's collectors, was despatched to Bogota in search ofOdontoglossum crispum. While tramping through the woods, he came across a very large Cattleya at rest, and gathered such pieces as fell in his way—attaching so little importance to them, however, that he did not name the matter in his reports. Four cases Mr. Mau brought home with his stock of Odontoglossums, which were opened in due course of business. We can quite believe that it was one of the stirring moments of Mr. Sander's life. The plants bore many dry specimens of last year's inflorescence, displaying such extraordinary size as proved the variety to be new; and there is no large Cattleya of indifferent colouring. To receive a plant of that character unannounced, undescribed, is an experience without parallel for half a century. Mr. Mau was sent back by next mail to secure every fragment he could find. Meantime, those in handwere established, and Mr. Brymer, M.P., bought one—Mr. Brymer is immortalized by the Dendrobe which bears his name. The new Cattleya proved kindly, and just before Mr. Mau returned with some thousands of its like Mr. Brymer's purchase broke into bloom. That must have been another glorious moment for Mr. Sander, when the great bud unfolded, displaying sepals and petals of the rosiest, freshest, softest pink, eleven inches across; and a crimson labellum exquisitely shown up by a broad patch of white on either side of the throat. Mr. Brymer was good enough to lend his specimen for the purpose of advertisement, and Messrs. Stevens enthusiastically fixed a green baize partition across their rooms as a background for the wondrous novelty. What excitement reigned there on the great day is not to be described. I have heard that over 2000l.was taken in the room.
Most of the Cattleyas with which the public is familiar—Mossiæ,Trianæ,Mendellii, and so forth—have white varieties; but an example absolutely pure is so uncommon that it fetches a long price. Loveliest of these isC. Skinneri alba. For generations, if not for ages, the people of Costa Rica have been gathering every morsel they can find, and planting it upon the roofs of their mud-builtchurches. Roezl and the early collectors had a "good time," buying these semi-sacred flowers from the priests, bribing the parishioners to steal them, or, when occasion served, playing the thief themselves. But the game is nearly up. Seldom now can a piece ofCat. Skinneri albabe obtained by honest means, and when a collector arrives guards are set upon the churches that still keep their decoration. No plant has ever been found in the forest, we understand.
It is just the same case with Lœlia anceps alba. The genus Lœlia is distinguished from Cattleya by a peculiarity to be remarked only in dissection; its pollen masses are eight as against four. To my taste, however, the species are more charming on the whole. There isL. purpurata. Casual observers always find it hard to grasp the fact that orchids are weeds in their native homes, just like foxgloves and dandelions with us. In this instance, as I have noted, they flatly refuse to believe, and certainly "upon the face of it" their incredulity is reasonable.
Lœlia purpuratafalls under the head of hot orchids.L. anceps, however, is not so exacting; many people grow it in the cool house when they can expose it there to the full blaze of sunshine. In its commonest form it is divinely beautiful.I have seen a plant in Mr. Eastey's collection with twenty-three spikes, the flowers all open at once. Such a spectacle is not to be described in prose. But when the enthusiast has rashly said that earth contains no more ethereal loveliness, let him beholdL. a. alba, the white variety. The dullest man I ever knew, who had a commonplace for all occasions, found no word in presence of that marvel. Even the half-castes of Mexico who have no soul, apparently, for things above horseflesh and cockfights, and love-making, reverence this saintly bloom. The Indians adore it. Like their brethren to the south, who have tenderly removed every plant ofCattleya Skinneri albafor generations unknown, to set upon their churches, they collect this supreme effort of Nature and replant it round their huts. So thoroughly has the work been done in either case that no single specimen was ever seen in the forest. Every one has been bought from the Indians, and the supply is exhausted; that is to say, a good many more are known to exist, but very rarely now can the owner be persuaded to part with one. The first example reached England nearly half a century ago, sent probably by a native trader to his correspondent in this country; but, as was usual at that time, the circumstances are doubtful. It found its way, somehow, to Mr.Dawson, of Meadowbank, a famous collector, and by him it was divided. Search was made for the treasure in its home, but vainly; travellers did not look in the Indian gardens. No more arrived for many years. Mr. Sander once conceived a fine idea. He sent one of his collectors to gatherLœlia a. albaat the season when it is in bud, with an intention of startling the universe by displaying a mass of them in full bloom; they were still more uncommon then than now, when a dozen flowering plants is still a show of which kings may be proud. Mr. Bartholomeus punctually fulfilled his instructions, collected some forty plants with their spikes well developed; attached them to strips of wood which he nailed across shallow boxes, and shipped them to San Francisco. Thence they travelled by fast train to New York, and proceeded without a moment's delay to Liverpool on board theUmbria; it was one of her first trips. All went well. Confidently did Mr. Sander anticipate the sensation when a score of those glorious plants were set out in full bloom upon the tables. But on opening the boxes he found every spike withered. The experiment is so tempting that it has been essayed once more, with a like result. The buds ofLœlia ancepswill not stand sea air.
Catasetums do not rank as a genus among ourbeauties; in fact, savingC. pileatum, commonly calledC. Bungerothi, andC. barbatum, I think of none, at this moment, which are worthy of attraction on that ground.C. fimbriatum, indeed, would be lovely if it could be persuaded to show itself. I have seen one plant which condescended to open its spotted blooms, but only one. No orchids, however, give more material for study; on this account Catasetum was a favourite with Mr. Darwin. It is approved also by unlearned persons who find relief from the monotony of admiration as they stroll round in observing its acrobatic performances. The "column" bears two horns; if these be touched, the pollen-masses fly as if discharged from a catapult.C. pileatum, however, is very handsome, four inches across, ivory white, with a round well in the centre of its broad lip, which makes a theme for endless speculation. The daring eccentricities of colour in this class of plant have no stronger example thanC. callosum, a novelty from Caraccas, with inky brown sepals and petals, brightest orange column, labellum of verdigris-green tipped with orange to match.
Schomburgkias are not often seen. Having a boundless choice of fine things which grow and flower without reluctance, the practical gardenergets irritated in these days when he finds a plant beyond his skill. It is a pity, for the Schomburgkias are glorious things—in especialSch. tibicinis. No description has done it justice, and few are privileged to speak as eye-witnesses. The clustering flowers hang down, sepals and petals of dusky mauve, most gracefully frilled and twisted, encircling a great hollow labellum which ends in a golden drop. That part of the cavity which is visible between the handsome incurved wings has bold stripes of dark crimson. The species is interesting, too. It comes from Honduras, where the children use its great hollow pseudo-bulbs as trumpets—whence the name. At their base is a hole—a touch-hole, as we may say, the utility of which defies our botanists. Had Mr. Belt travelled in those parts, he might have discovered the secret, as in the similar case of the Bullthorn, one of theGummiferæ. The great thorns of that bush have just such a hole, and Mr. Belt proved by lengthy observations that it is designed, to speak roughly, for the ingress of an ant peculiar to that acacia, whose duty it is to defend the young shoots—videBelt's "Naturalist in Nicaragua," page 218. Importers are too well aware thatSchomburgkia tibicinisalso is inhabited by an ant of singular ferocity, for it survives the voyage,and rushes forth to battle when the case is opened. We may suppose that it performs a like service.
Dendrobiums are "warm" mostly; of the hot species, which are many, and the cool, which are few, I have not to speak here. But a remark made at the beginning of this chapter especially applies to Dendrobes. If they be started early, so that the young growths are well advanced by June 1; if the situation be warm, and a part of the house sunny—if they be placed in that part without any shade till July, and freely syringed—with a little extra attention many of them will do well enough. That is to say, they will make such a show of blossom as is mighty satisfactory in the winter time. We must not look for "specimens," but there should be bloom enough to repay handsomely the very little trouble they give. Among those that may be treated so areD. Wardianum,Falconeri,crassinode,Pierardii,crystallinum,Devonianum—sometimes—andnobile, of course. Probably there are more, but these I have tried myself.
Dendrobium Wardianum, at the present day, comes almost exclusively from Burmah—the neighbourhood of the Ruby Mines is its favourite habitat. But it was first brought to England fromAssam in 1858, when botanists regarded it as a form ofD. Falconeri. This error was not so strange as its seems, for the Assamese variety has pseudo-bulbs much less sturdy than those we are used to see, and they are quite pendulous. It was rather a lively business collecting orchids in Burmah before the annexation. The Roman Catholic missionaries established there made it a source of income, and they did not greet an intruding stranger with warmth—not genial warmth, at least. He was forbidden to quit the town of Bhamo, an edict which compelled him to employ native collectors—in fact, coolies—himself waiting helplessly within the walls; but his reverend rivals, having greater freedom and an acquaintance with the language, organized a corps of skirmishers to prowl round and intercept the natives returning with their loads. Doubtless somebody received the value when they made a haul, but who, is uncertain perhaps—and the stranger was disappointed, anyhow. It may be believed that unedifying scenes arose—especially on two or three occasions when an agent had almost reached one of the four gates before he was intercepted. For the hapless collector—having nothing in the world to do—haunted those portals all day long, flying from one to the other in hope to see "somebodycoming." Very droll, but Burmah is a warm country for jests of the kind. Thus it happened occasionally that he beheld his own discomfiture, and rows ensued at the Mission-house. At length Mr. Sander addressed a formal petition to the Austrian Archbishop, to whom the missionaries owed allegiance. He received a sympathetic answer, and some assistance.
From the Ruby Mines also comes a Dendrobium so excessively rare that I name it only to call the attention of employés in the new company. This isD. rhodopterygium. Sir Trevor Lawrence has or had a plant, I believe; there are two or three at St. Albans; but the lists of other dealers will be searched in vain. Sir Trevor Lawrence had also a scarlet species from Burmah; but it died even before the christening, and no second has yet been found. Sumatra furnishes a scarlet Dendrobe,D. Forstermanni, but it again is of the utmost rarity. Baron Schroeder boasts three specimens—which have not yet flowered, however. From Burmah comesD. Brymerianum, of which the story is brief, but very thrilling if we ponder it a moment. For the missionaries sent this plant to Europe without a description—they had not seen the bloom, doubtless—and it sold cheap enough. We may fancy Mr. Brymer's emotion, therefore, when the strikingflower opened. Its form is unique, though some other varieties display a long fringe—as that extraordinary object,Nanodes Medusæ, and alsoBrassavola Digbyana, which is exquisitely lovely sometimes. In the case ofD. Brymerianumthe bright yellow lip is split all round, for two-thirds of its expanse, into twisted filaments. We may well ask what on earth is Nature's purpose in this eccentricity; but it is a question that arises every hour to the most thoughtless being who grows orchids.