my taste, of all the lovely genus. It is called _D. atro-violaceum_. The
stately flowers hang down their heads, reflexed like a "Turban Lily,"
ten or a dozen on a spike. The colour is ivory-white, with a faintest
tinge of green, and green spots are dotted all over. The lobes of the
lip curl in, making half the circumference of a funnel, the outside of
which is dark violet-blue; with that fine colour the lip itself is
boldly striped. They tell me that the public is not expected to "catch
on" to this marvel. It hangs its head too low, and the contrast of hues
is too startling. If that be so, we multiply schools of art and County
Council lectures perambulate the realm, in vain. The artistic sense is
denied us.
Madagascar also will furnish some astonishing novelties; it has already
begun, in fact--with a vengeance. Imagine a scarlet Cymbidium! That such
a wonder existed has been known for some years, and three collectors
have gone in search of it; two died, and the third has been terribly ill
since his return to Europe--but he won the treasure, which we shall
behold in good time. Those parts of Madagascar which especially attract
botanists must be death-traps indeed! M. Léon Humblot tells how he dined
at Tamatave with his brother and six compatriots, exploring the country
with various scientific aims. Within twelve months he was the only
survivor. One of these unfortunates, travelling on behalf of Mr. Cutler,
the celebrated naturalist of Bloomsbury Street, to find butterflies and
birds, shot at a native idol, as the report goes. The priests soaked
him with paraffin, and burnt him on a table--perhaps their altar. M.
Humblot himself has had awful experiences. He was attached to the
geographical survey directed by the French Government, and ten years ago
he found _Phajus Humblotii_ and _Phajus tuberculosus_ in the deadliest
swamps of the interior. A few of the bulbs gathered lived through the
passage home, and caused much excitement when offered for sale at
Stevens' Auction Rooms. M. Humblot risked his life again, and secured a
great quantity for Mr. Sander, but at a dreadful cost. He spent twelve
months in the hospital at Mayotte, and on arrival at Marseilles with his
plants the doctors gave him no hope of recovery. _P. Humblotii_ is a
marvel of beauty--rose-pink, with a great crimson labellum exquisitely
frilled, and a bright green column.
Everybody who knows his "Darwin" is aware that Madagascar is the chosen
home of the Angræcums. All, indeed, are natives of Africa, so far as I
know, excepting the delightful _A. falcatum_, which comes, strangely
enough, from Japan. One cannot but suspect, under the circumstances,
that this species was brought from Africa ages ago, when the Japanese
were enterprising seamen, and has been acclimatized by those skilful
horticulturists. It is certainly odd that the only "cool" Aerides--the
only one found, I believe, outside of India and the Eastern
Tropics--also belongs to Japan, and a cool Dendrobe, _A. arcuatum_, is
found in the Transvaal; and I have reason to hope that another or more
will turn up when South Africa is thoroughly searched. A pink Angræcum,
very rarely seen, dwells somewhere on the West Coast; the only species,
so far as I know, which is not white. It bears the name of M. Du
Chaillu, who found it--he has forgotten where, unhappily. I took that
famous traveller to St. Albans in the hope of quickening his
recollection, and I fear I bored him afterwards with categorical
inquiries. But all was vain. M. Du Chaillu can only recall that once on
a time, when just starting for Europe, it occurred to him to run into
the bush and strip the trees indiscriminately. Mr. Sander was prepared
to send a man expressly for this Angræcum. The exquisite _A.
Sanderianum_ is a native of the Comorro Islands. No flower could be
prettier than this, nor more deliciously scented--when scented it is! It
grows in a climate which travellers describe as Paradise, and, in truth,
it becomes such a scene. Those who behold young plants with graceful
garlands of snowy bloom twelve to twenty inches long are prone to fall
into raptures; but imagine it as a long-established specimen appears
just now at St Albans, with racemes drooping two and a half feet from
each new growth, clothed on either side with flowers like a double train
of white long-tailed butterflies hovering! _A. Scottianum_ comes from
Zanzibar, discovered, I believe, by Sir John Kirk; _A. caudatum_, from
Sierra Leone. This latter species is the nearest rival of _A.
sesquipedale_, showing "tails" ten inches long. Next in order for this
characteristic detail rank _A. Leonis_ and _Kotschyi_--the latter rarely
grown--with seven-inch "tails;" _Scottianum_ and _Ellisii_ with
six-inch; that is to say, they ought to show such dimensions
respectively. Whether they fulfil their promise depends upon the grower.
With the exceptions named, this family belongs to Madagascar. It has a
charming distinction, shared by no other genus which I recall, save, in
less degree, Cattleya--every member is attractive. But I must
concentrate myself on the most striking--that which fascinated Darwin.
In the first place it should be pointed out that _savants_ call this
plant _Æranthus sesquipedalis_, not _Angræcum_--a fact useful to know,
but unimportant to ordinary mortals. It was discovered by the Rev. Mr.
Ellis, and sent home alive, nearly thirty years ago; but civilized
mankind has not yet done wondering at it. The stately growth, the
magnificent green-white flowers, command admiration at a glance, but the
"tail," or spur, offers a problem of which the thoughtful never tire. It
is commonly ten inches long, sometimes fourteen inches, and at home, I
have been told, even longer; about the thickness of a goose-quill,
hollow, of course, the last inch and a half filled with nectar. Studying
this appendage by the light of the principles he had laid down, Darwin
ventured on a prophecy which roused special mirth among the unbelievers.
Not only the abnormal length of the nectary had to be considered; there
was, besides, the fact that all its honey lay at the base, a foot or
more from the orifice. Accepting it as a postulate that every detail of
the apparatus must be equally essential for the purpose it had to serve,
he made a series of experiments which demonstrated that some insect of
Madagascar--doubtless a moth--must be equipped with a proboscis long
enough to reach the nectar, and at the same time thick enough at the
base to withdraw the pollinia--thus fertilizing the bloom. For, if the
nectar had lain so close to the orifice that moths with a proboscis of
reasonable length and thickness could get at it, they would drain the
cup without touching the pollinia. Darwin never proved his special
genius more admirably than in this case. He created an insect beyond
belief, as one may say, by the force of logic; and such absolute
confidence had he in his own syllogism that he declared, "If such great
moths were to become extinct in Madagascar, assuredly this Angræcum
would become extinct." I am not aware that Darwin's fine argument has
yet been clinched by the discovery of that insect. But cavil has ceased.
Long before his death a sphinx moth arrived from South Brazil which
shows a proboscis between ten and eleven inches long--very nearly equal,
therefore, to the task of probing the nectary of _Angræcum
sesquipidale_. And we know enough of orchids at this time to be
absolutely certain that the Madagascar species must exist.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 4: _Vide_ "The Lost Orchid," _infra_, p. 173.]
[Footnote 5: I have learned by a doleful experience that this fly,
commonly called "the weavil," is quite at home on _Loelia purpurata_;
in fact, it will prey on any Cattleya.]
HOT ORCHIDS.
In former chapters I have done my best to show that orchid culture is no
mystery. The laws which govern it are strict and simple, easy to define
in books, easily understood, and subject to few exceptions. It is not
with Odontoglossums and Dendrobes as with roses--an intelligent man or
woman needs no long apprenticeship to master their treatment. Stove
orchids are not so readily dealt with; but then, persons who own a stove
usually keep a gardener. Coming from the hot lowlands of either
hemisphere, they show much greater variety than those of the temperate
and sub-tropic zones; there are more genera, though not so many species,
and more exceptions to every rule. These, therefore, are not to be
recommended to all householders. Not everyone indeed is anxious to grow
plants which need a minimum night heat of 60° in winter, 70° in summer,
and cannot dispense with fire the whole year round.
The hottest of all orchids probably is _Peristeria elata_, the famous
"Spirito Santo," flower of the Holy Ghost. The dullest soul who observes
that white dove rising with wings half spread, as in the very act of
taking flight, can understand the frenzy of the Spaniards when they came
upon it. Rumours of Peruvian magnificence had just reached them at
Panama--on the same day, perhaps--when this miraculous sign from heaven
encouraged them to advance. The empire of the Incas did not fall a prey
to that particular band of ruffians, nevertheless. _Peristeria elata_ is
so well known that I would not dwell upon it, but an odd little tale
rises to my mind. The great collector Roezl was travelling homeward, in
1868, by Panama. The railway fare to Colon was sixty dollars at that
time, and he grudged the money. Setting his wits to work, Roezl
discovered that the company issued tickets from station to station at a
very low price for the convenience of its employés. Taking advantage of
this system, he crossed the isthmus for five dollars--such an advantage
it is in travelling to be an old campaigner! At one of the intermediate
stations he had to wait for his train, and rushed into the jungle of
course. _Peristeria_ abounded in that steaming swamp, but the collector
was on holiday. To his amazement, however, he found, side by side with
it, a Masdevallia--that genus most impatient of sunshine among all
orchids, flourishing here in the hottest blaze! Snatching up half a
dozen of the tender plants with a practised hand, he brought them safe
to England. On the day they were put up to auction news of Livingstone's
death arrived, and in a flash of inspiration Roezl christened his
novelty _M. Livingstoniana_. Few, indeed, even among authorities, know
where that rarest of Masdevallias has its home; none have reached Europe
since. A pretty flower it is--white, rosy tipped, with yellow "tails."
And it dwells by the station of Culebras, on the Panama railway.
Of genera, however, doubtless the Vandas are hottest; and among these,
_V. Sanderiana_ stands first. It was found in Mindanao, the most
southerly of the Philippines, by Mr. Roebelin when he went thither in
search of the red Phaloenopsis, as will be told presently. _Vanda
Sanderiana_ is a plant to be described as majestic rather than lovely,
if we may distinguish among these glorious things. Its blooms are five
inches across, pale lilac in their ground colour, suffused with brownish
yellow, and covered with a network of crimson brown. Twelve or more of
such striking flowers to a spike, and four or five spikes upon a plant
make a wonder indeed. But, to view matters prosaically, _Vanda_
_Sanderiana_ is "bad business." It is not common, and it grows on the
very top of the highest trees, which must be felled to secure the
treasure; and of those gathered but a small proportion survive. In the
first place, the agent must employ natives, who are paid so much per
plant, no matter what the size--a bad system, but they will allow no
change. It is evidently their interest to divide any "specimen" that
will bear cutting up; if the fragments bleed to death, they have got
their money meantime. Then, the Manilla steamers call at Mindanao only
once a month. Three months are needed to get together plants enough to
yield a fair profit. At the end of that time a large proportion of those
first gathered will certainly be doomed--Vandas have no pseudo-bulbs to
sustain their strength. Steamers run from Manilla to Singapore every
fortnight. If the collector be fortunate he may light upon a captain
willing to receive his packages; in that case he builds structures of
bamboo on deck, and spends the next fortnight in watering, shading, and
ventilating his precious _trouvailles_, alternately. But captains
willing to receive such freight must be waited for too often. At
Singapore it is necessary to make a final overhauling of the plants--to
their woeful diminution. This done, troubles recommence. Seldom will
the captain of a mail steamer accept that miscellaneous cargo. Happily,
the time of year is, or ought to be, that season when tea-ships arrive
at Singapore. The collector may reasonably hope to secure a passage in
one of these, which will carry him to England in thirty-five days or so.
If this state of things be pondered, even without allowance for
accident, it will not seem surprising that _V. Sanderiana_ is a costly
species. The largest piece yet secured was bought by Sir Trevor Lawrence
at auction for ninety guineas. It had eight stems, the tallest four feet
high. No consignment has yet returned a profit, however.
The favoured home of Vandas is Java. They are noble plants even when at
rest, if perfect--that is, clothed in their glossy, dark green leaves
from base to crown. If there be any age or any height at which the lower
leaves fall of necessity, I have not been able to identify it. In Mr.
Sander's collection, for instance, there is a giant plant of _Vanda
suavis_, eleven growths, a small thicket, established in 1847. The
tallest stem measures fifteen feet, and every one of its leaves remain.
They fall off easily under bad treatment, but the mischief is reparable
at a certain sacrifice. The stem may be cut through and the crown
replanted, with leaves perfect; but it will be so much shorter, of
course. The finest specimen I ever heard of is the _V. Lowii_ at
Ferrières, seat of Baron Alphonse de Rothschild, near Paris. It fills
the upper part of a large greenhouse, and year by year its twelve stems
produce an indefinite number of spikes, eight to ten feet long, covered
with thousands of yellow and brown blooms.[6] Vandas inhabit all the
Malayan Archipelago; some are found even in India. The superb _V. teres_
comes from Sylhet; from Burmah also. This might be called the floral
cognizance of the house of Rothschild. At Frankfort, Vienna, Ferrières,
and Gunnersbury little meadows of it are grown--that is, the plants
flourish at their own sweet will, uncumbered with pots, in houses
devoted to them. Rising from a carpet of palms and maidenhair, each
crowned with its drooping garland of rose and crimson and
cinnamon-brown, they make a glorious show indeed. A pretty little
coincidence was remarked when the Queen paid a visit to Waddesdon the
other day. _V. teres_ first bloomed in Europe at Syon House, and a small
spray was sent to the young Princess, unmarried then and uncrowned. The
incident recurred to memory when Baron Ferdinand de Rothschild chose
this same flower for the bouquet presented to Her Majesty; he adorned
the luncheon table therewith besides. This story bears a moral. The
plant of which one spray was a royal gift less than sixty years ago has
become so far common that it may be used in masses to decorate a room.
Thousands of unconsidered subjects of Her Majesty enjoy the pleasure
which one great duke monopolized before her reign began. There is matter
for an essay here. I hasten back to my theme.
_V. teres_ is not such a common object that description would be
superfluous. It belongs to the small class of climbing orchids,
delighting to sun itself upon the rafters of the hottest stove. If this
habit be duly regarded, it is not difficult to flower by any means,
though gardeners who do not keep pace with their age still pronounce it
a hopeless rebel. Sir Hugh Low tells me that he clothed all the trees
round Government House at Pahang with _Vanda teres_, planting its near
relative, _V. Hookeri_, more exquisite still, if that were possible, in
a swampy hollow. His servants might gather a basket of these flowers
daily in the season. So the memory of the first President for Pahang
will be kept green. A plant rarely seen is _V. limbata_ from the island
of Timor--dusky yellow, the tip purple, outlined with white, formed
like a shovel.
I may cite a personal reminiscence here, in the hope that some reader
may be able to supply what is wanting. In years so far back that they
seem to belong to a "previous existence," I travelled in Borneo, and
paid a visit to the antimony-mines of Bidi. The manager, Mr. Bentley,
showed me a grand tapong-tree at his door from which he had lately
gathered a "blue orchid,"--we were desperately vague about names in the
jungle at that day, or in England for that matter. In a note published
on my return, I said, "As Mr. Bentley described it, the blossoms hung in
an azure garland from the bough, more gracefully than art could design."
This specimen is, I believe, the only one at present known, and both
Malays and Dyaks are quite ignorant of such a flower! What was this?
There is no question of the facts. Mr. Bentley sent the plant, a large
mass to the chairman of the Company, and it reached home in fair
condition. I saw the warm letter, enclosing cheque for 100l., in which
Mr. Templar acknowledged receipt. But further record I have not been
able to discover. One inclines to assume that a blue orchid which puts
forth a "garland" of bloom must be a Vanda. The description might be
applied to _V. coerulea_, but that species is a native of the Khasya
hills; more appropriately, as I recall Mr. Bentley's words, to _V.
coerulescens_, which, however, is Burmese. Furthermore, neither of
these would be looked for on the branch of a great tree. Possibly
someone who reads this may know what became of Mr. Templar's specimen.
Both the species of Renanthera need great heat. Among "facts not
generally known" to orchid-growers, but decidedly interesting for them,
is the commercial habitat, as one may say, of _R. coccinea_. The books
state correctly that it is a native of Cochin China. Orchids coming from
such a distance must needs be withered on arrival. Accordingly, the most
experienced horticulturist who is not up to a little secret feels
assured that all is well when he beholds at the auction-room or at one
of the small dealer's a plant full of sap, with glossy leaves and
unshrivelled roots. It must have been in cultivation for a year at the
very least, and he buys with confidence. Too often, however, a
disastrous change sets in from the very moment his purchase reaches
home. Instead of growing it falls back and back, until in a very few
weeks it has all the appearance of a newly-imported piece. The
explanation is curious. At some time, not distant, a quantity of _R.
coccinea_ must have found its way to the neighbourhood of Rio. There it
flourishes as a weed, with a vigour quite unparalleled in its native
soil. Unscrupulous persons take advantage of this extraordinary
accident. From a country so near and so readily accessible they can get
plants home, pot them up, and sell them, before the withering process
sets in. May this revelation confound such knavish tricks! The moral is
old--buy your orchids from one of the great dealers, if you do not care
to "establish" them yourself.
_R. coccinea_ is another of the climbing species, and it demands, even
more urgently than _V. teres_, to reach the top of the house, where
sunshine is fiercest, before blooming. Under the best conditions,
indeed, it is slow to produce its noble wreaths of flower--deep red,
crimson, and orange. Upon the other hand, the plant itself is
ornamental, and it grows very fast. The Duke of Devonshire has some at
Chatsworth which never fail to make a gorgeous show in their season; but
they stand twenty feet high, twisted round birch-trees, and they have
occupied their present quarters for half a century or near it. There is
but one more species in the genus, so far as the unlearned know, but
this, generally recognized as _Vanda Lowii_, as has been already
mentioned, ranks among the grand curiosities of botanic science. Like
some of the Catasetums and Cycnoches, it bears two distinct types of
flower on each spike, but the instance of _R. Lowii_ is even more
perplexing. In those other cases the differing forms represent male and
female sex, but the microscope has not yet discovered any sort of reason
for the like eccentricity of this Renanthera. Its proper inflorescence,
as one may put it, is greenish yellow, blotched with brown, three inches
in diameter, clothing a spike sometimes twelve feet long. The first two
flowers to open, however--those at the base--present a strong contrast
in all respects--smaller, of different shape, tawny yellow in colour,
dotted with crimson. It would be a pleasing task for ingenious youth
with a bent towards science to seek the utility of this arrangement.
Orchids are spreading fast over the world in these days, and we may
expect to hear of other instances where a species has taken root in
alien climes like _R. coccinea_ in Brazil. I cannot cite a parallel at
present. But Mr. Sander informs me that there is a growing demand for
these plants in realms which have their own native orchids. We have an
example in the letter which has been already quoted.[7] Among customers
who write to him direct are magnates of China and Siam, an Indian and a
Javanese rajah. Orders are received--not unimportant, nor
infrequent--from merchants at Calcutta, Singapore, Hong Kong, Rio de
Janeiro, and smaller places, of course. It is vastly droll to hear that
some of these gentlemen import species at a great expense which an
intelligent coolie could gather for them in any quantity within a few
furlongs of their go-down! But for the most part they demand foreigners.
The plants thus distributed will be grown in the open air; naturally
they will seed; at least, we may hope so. Even _Angræcum sesquipedale_,
of which I wrote in the preceding chapter, would find a moth able to
impregnate it in South Brazil. Such species as recognize the conditions
necessary for their existence will establish themselves. It is fairly
safe to credit that in some future time, not distant, Cattleyas may
flourish in the jungles of India, Dendrobiums on the Amazons,
Phaloenopsis in the coast lands of Central America. Those who wish well
to their kind would like to hasten that day.