understand; I take for example the strangest, as is fitting. Some
irreverent zealots have hailed the Phaloenopsis as Queen of Flowers,
dethroning our venerable rose. I have not to consider the question of
allegiance, but decidedly this 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
Phaloenopsis 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 Phaloenopsis. 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
Phaloenopsis 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 pounds for 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
Phaloenopsis 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 Phaloenopsis 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 hardy plants 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 of _Odontoglossum 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, warmed
presumably 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?
COOL 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 of experts
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 Phaloenopsis. 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 succeeds with 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 the _ne
plus ultra_ stage 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 the _placens
uxor_ forgot 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 at stake 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, and _O.
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 into _terra 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 replaced for 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. When that
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
and Fortune, I believe, were their earliest employés. Another was
Theodor Hartweg, who discovered _Odontoglossum crispum Alexandræ_ in
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.
[Illustration: ODONTOGLOSSUM CRISPUM ALEXANDRAE
Flower reduced to One Fourth
Flower Stem to One Sixth]
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 the
Society 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, Falkenberg perished 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 man with eyes would dispute that
_O. crispum Alexandræ_ is 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 in Europe, 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 of
_Odontoglossum crispum_ per 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 of _O.
gloriosum_, comparatively worthless, are often secured. The cutters
receive a fixed price of sixpence for each orchid, without reference to
species or quality.