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 changed hands 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 of _C. 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, is _C. Dowiana_--unless it be _C. 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 between _C. Dowiana_ and _C. aurea_ in 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 in _Cattleya aurea_--sepals, petals,
and lip; unbroken in the two former, in the latter superbly streaked
with crimson. But _Cattleya Dowiana_ shows 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. Dowiana_ was 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 of an 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 beautiful _Oncidium Jonesianum_ appeared, 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
of _Onc. Jonesianum_ bears to that of _Onc. cibolletum_, a species
almost worthless. Unfortunately the beautiful thing declines to live
with us--as yet.
_Cattleya Dowiana_ was rediscovered by Mr. Arce, when collecting birds:
it must have been a grand moment for Warscewicz when the horticultural
world was convulsed by its appearance in bloom. _Cattleya aurea_ had 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 haunts _Cattleya
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 that _C. Mendellii_ is 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 is _C.
Hardyana_, doubtless a natural hybrid of _C. aurea_ with _C. 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 Sanderiana_ offers an
interesting story. Mr. Mau, one of Mr. Sander's collectors, was
despatched to Bogota in search of _Odontoglossum 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 hand were
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 is _C. 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-built churches. 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 of _Cat. Skinneri alba_ be 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 _Loelia anceps alba_. The genus Loelia
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 is _L.
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.
_Loelia purpurata_ falls 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
behold _L. 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 of _Cattleya Skinneri alba_ for
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 gather _Loelia a. alba_ at 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 the _Umbria_; 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 of _Loelia anceps_ will not stand
sea air.
Catasetums do not rank as a genus among our beauties; in fact, saving
_C. pileatum_, commonly called _C. Bungerothi_, and _C. 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 than _C. 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 gardener
gets irritated in these days when he finds a plant beyond his skill. It
is a pity, for the Schomburgkias are glorious things--in especial _Sch.
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 the _Gummiferæ_. 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--_vide_ Belt's "Naturalist in Nicaragua," page 218. Importers are
too well aware that _Schomburgkia tibicinis_ also 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 are
_D. Wardianum_, _Falconeri_, _crassinode_, _Pierardii_, _crystallinum_,
_Devonianum_--sometimes--and _nobile_, 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 from Assam in 1858, when
botanists regarded it as a form of _D. 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
"somebody coming." 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
is _D. 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 comes _D. 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 striking flower opened. Its form is unique, though
some other varieties display a long fringe--as that extraordinary
object, _Nanodes Medusæ_, and also _Brassavola Digbyana_, which is
exquisitely lovely sometimes. In the case of _D. Brymerianum_ the 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.
[Illustration: DENDROBIUM BRYMERIANUM.
Reduced To One Fourth.]
Everybody knows _Dendrobium nobile_ so well that it is not to be
discussed in prose; something might be done in poetry, perhaps, by young
gentlemen who sing of buttercups and daisies, but the rhyme would be
difficult. _D. nobile nobilius_, however, is by no means so
common--would it were! This glorified form turned up among an
importation made by Messrs. Rollisson. They propagated it, and sold four
small pieces, which are still in cultivation. But the troubles of that
renowned firm, to which we owe so great a debt, had already begun. The
mother-plant was neglected. It had fallen into such a desperate
condition when Messrs. Rollisson's plants were sold, under a decree in
bankruptcy, that the great dealers refused to bid for what should have
been a little gold-mine. A casual market-gardener hazarded thirty
shillings, brought it round so far that he could establish a number of
young plants, and sold the parent for forty pounds at last. There are,
however, several fine varieties of _D. nobile_ more valuable than
_nobilius_. _D. n. Sanderianum_ resembles that form, but it is smaller
and darker. Albinos have been found; Baron Schroeder has a beautiful
example. One appeared at Stevens' Rooms, announced as the single
instance in cultivation--which is not quite the fact, but near enough
for the auction-room, perhaps. It also was imported originally by Mr.
Sander, with _D. n. Sanderianum_. Biddings reached forty-three pounds,
but the owner would not deal at the price. Albinos are rare among the
Dendrobes.
_D. nobile Cooksoni_ was the _fons et origo_ of an unpleasant
misunderstanding. It turned up in the collection of Mr. Lange,
distinguished by a reversal of the ordinary scheme of colour. There is
actually no end to the delightful vagaries of these plants. If people
only knew what interest and pleasing excitement attends the
inflorescence of an imported orchid--one, that is, which has not bloomed
before in Europe--they would crowd the auction-rooms in which every
strange face is marked now. There are books enough to inform them,
certainly; but who reads an Orchid Book? Even the enthusiast only
consults it.
_Dendrobium nobile Cooksoni_, then, has white tips to petal and sepal;
the crimson spot keeps its place; and the inside of the flower is deep
red--an inversion of the usual colouring. Mr. Lange could scarcely fail
to observe this peculiarity, but he seems to have thought little of it.
Mr. Cookson, paying him a visit, was struck, however--as well he might
be--and expressed a wish to have the plant. So the two distinguished
amateurs made an exchange. Mr. Cookson sent a flower at once to
Professor Reichenbach, who, delighted and enthusiastic, registered it
upon the spot under the name of the gentleman from whom he received it.
Mr. Lange protested warmly, demanding that his discovery should be
called, after his residence, _Heathfieldsayeanum_. But Professor
Reichenbach drily refused to consider personal questions; and really,
seeing how short is life, and how long _Dendrobium nobile Heathfield_,
&c., true philanthropists will hold him justified.
We may expect wondrous Dendrobes from New Guinea. Some fine species have
already arrived, and others have been sent in the dried inflorescence.
Of _D. phaloenopsis Schroederi_ I have spoken elsewhere. There is _D.
Goldiei_; a variety of _D. superbiens_--but much larger. There is _D.
Albertesii_, snow-white; _D. Broomfieldianum_, curiously like _Loelia
anceps alba_ in its flower--which is to say that it must be the
loveliest of all Dendrobes. But this species has a further charm, almost
incredible. The lip in some varieties is washed with lavender blue, in
some with crimson! Another is nearly related to _D. bigibbum_, but much
larger, with sepals more acute. Its hue is a glorious rosy-purple,
deepening on the lip, the side lobes of which curl over and meet,
forming a cylindrical tube, while the middle lobe, prolonged, stands out
at right angles, veined with very dark purple; this has just been named
_D. Statterianum_. It has upon the disc an elevated, hairy crest, like
_D. bigibbum_, but instead of being white as always, more or less, in
that instance, the crest of the new species is dark purple. I have been
particular in describing this noble flower, because very, very few have
beheld it. Those who live will see marvels when the Dutch and German
portions of New Guinea are explored.