_crassinode_ and _Wardianum_, stowed in layers as close as possible,
with _D. Falconerii_ for packing material. A royal way of doing things
indeed to substitute an orchid of value for shavings or moss, but mighty
convenient and profitable. For that packing will be sent to the
auction-rooms presently, and will be sold for no small proportion of the
sum which its more delicate charge attains. We remark that the
experienced persons who remove these precious sticks, layer by layer,
perform their office gingerly. There is not much danger or
unpleasantness in unpacking Dendrobes, compared with other genera, but
ship-rats spring out occasionally and give an ugly bite; scorpions and
centipedes have been known to harbour in the close roots of _D.
Falconerii_; stinging ants are by no means improbable, nor huge spiders;
while cockroaches of giant size, which should be killed, may be looked
for with certainty. But men learn a habit of caution by experience of
cargoes much more perilous. In those masses of _Arundina bambusæfolia_
beneath the table yonder doubtless there are centipedes lurking, perhaps
even scorpions, which have escaped the first inspection. Happily, these
pests are dull, half-stupefied with the cold, when discovered, and no
man here has been stung, circumspect as they are; but ants arrive as
alert and as vicious as in their native realm. Distinctly they are no
joke. To handle a consignment of _Epidendrum bicornutum_ demands some
nerve. A very ugly species loves its hollow bulbs, which, when
disturbed, shoots out with lightning swiftness and nips the arm or hand
so quickly that it can seldom be avoided. But the most awkward cases to
deal with are those which contain _Schomburghkia tibicinis_. This superb
orchid is so difficult to bloom that very few will attempt it; I have
seen its flower but twice. Packers strongly approve the reluctance of
the public to buy, since it restricts importation. The foreman has been
laid up again and again. But they find pleasing curiosities also,
tropic beetles, and insects, and cocoons. Dendrobiums in especial are
favoured by moths; _D. Wardianum_ is loaded with their webs, empty as a
rule. Hitherto the men have preserved no chrysalids, but at this moment
they have a few, of unknown species.
The farmer gets strange bits of advice sometimes, and strange offers of
assistance. Talking of insects reminds him of a letter received last
week. Here it is:--
SIRS,--I have heard that you are large growers of orchids;
am I right in supposing that in their growth or production you are
much troubled with some insect or caterpillar which retards or
hinders their arrival at maturity, and that these insects or
caterpillars can be destroyed by small snakes? I have tracts of
land under my occupation, and if these small snakes can be of use
in your culture of orchids you might write, as I could get you some
on knowing what these might be worth to you.
Yours truly
----
Thence we mount to the potting-rooms, where a dozen skilled workmen try
to keep pace with the growth of the imported plants; taking up, day by
day, those which thrust out roots so fast that postponement is
injurious. The broad middle tables are heaped with peat and moss and
leaf-mould and white sand. At counters on either side unskilled
labourers are sifting and mixing, while boys come and go, laden with
pots and baskets of teak-wood and crocks and charcoal. These things are
piled in heaps against the walls; they are stacked on frames overhead;
they fill the semi-subterranean chambers of which we get a glimpse in
passing. Our farm resembles a factory in this department.
Ascending to the upper earth again, and crossing the corridor, we may
visit number one of those glass-houses opposite. I cannot imagine, much
more describe, how that spectacle would strike one to whom it was wholly
unfamiliar. These buildings--there are twelve of them, side by
side--measure one hundred and eighty feet in length, and the narrowest
has thirty-two feet breadth. This which we enter is devoted to
_Odontoglossum crispum_, with a few _Masdevallias_. There were
twenty-two thousand pots in it the other day; several thousand have been
sold, several thousand have been brought in, and the number at this
moment cannot be computed. Our farmer has no time for speculative
arithmetic; he deals in produce wholesale. Telegraph an order for a
thousand _crispums_ and you cause no stir in the establishment. You take
it for granted that a large dealer only could propose such a
transaction. But it does not follow at all. Nobody would credit, unless
he had talked with one of the great farmers, on what enormous scale
orchids are cultivated up and down by private persons. Our friend has a
client who keeps his stock of _O. crispum_ alone at ten thousand; but
others, less methodical, may have more.
Opposite the door is a high staging, mounted by steps, with a gangway
down the middle and shelves descending on either hand. Those shelves are
crowded with fine plants of the glorious _O. crispum_, each bearing one
or two spikes of flower, which trail down, interlace, arch upward. Not
all are in bloom; that amazing sight may be witnessed for a month to
come--for two months, with such small traces of decay as the casual
visitor would not notice. So long and dense are the wreaths, so broad
the flowers, that the structure seems to be festooned from top to bottom
with snowy garlands. But there is more. Overhead hang rows of baskets,
lessening in perspective, with pendent sprays of bloom. And broad tables
which edge the walls beneath that staging display some thousands still,
smaller but not less beautiful. A sight which words could not portray. I
yield in despair.
The tillage of the farm is our business, and there are many points here
which the amateur should note. Observe the bricks beneath your feet.
They have a hollow pattern which retains the water, though your boots
keep dry. Each side of the pathway lie shallow troughs, always full.
Beneath that staging mentioned is a bed of leaves, interrupted by a tank
here, by a group of ferns there, vividly green. Slender iron pipes run
through the house from end to end, so perforated that on turning a tap
they soak these beds, fill the little troughs and hollow bricks, play in
all directions down below, but never touch a plant. Under such constant
drenching the leaf-beds decay, throwing up those gases and vapours in
which the orchid delights at home. Thus the amateur should arrange his
greenhouse, so far as he may. But I would not have it understood that
these elaborate contrivances are essential. If you would beat Nature, as
here, making invariably such bulbs and flowers as she produces only
under rare conditions, you must follow this system. But orchids are not
exacting.
The house opens, at its further end, in a magnificent structure designed
especially to exhibit plants of warm species in bloom. It is three
hundred feet long, twenty-six wide, eighteen high--the piping laid end
to end, would measure as nearly as possible one mile: we see a practical
illustration of the resources of the establishment, when it is expected
to furnish such a show. Here are stored the huge specimens of
_Cymbidium Lowianum_, nine of which astounded the good people of Berlin
with a display of one hundred and fifty flower spikes, all open at once.
We observe at least a score as well furnished, and hundreds which a
royal gardener would survey with pride. They rise one above another in a
great bank, crowned and brightened by garlands of pale green and
chocolate. Other Cymbidiums are here, but not the beautiful _C.
eburneum_. Its large white flowers, erect on a short spike, not drooping
like these, will be found in a cool house--smelt with delight before
they are found.
Further on we have a bank of Dendrobiums, so densely clothed in bloom
that the leaves are unnoticed. Lovely beyond all to my taste, if,
indeed, one may make a comparison, is _D. luteolum_, with flowers of
palest, tenderest primrose, rarely seen unhappily, for it will not
reconcile itself to our treatment. Then again a bank of Cattleyas, of
Vandas, of miscellaneous genera. The pathway is hedged on one side with
_Begonia coralina_, an unimproved species too straggling of growth and
too small of flower to be worth its room under ordinary conditions; but
a glorious thing here, climbing to the roof, festooned at every season
of the year with countless rosy sprays.
Beyond this show-house lie the small structures devoted to
"hybridization," but I deal with them in another chapter. Here also are
the Phaloenopsis, the very hot Vandas, Bolleas, Pescatoreas, Anæctochili,
and such dainty but capricious beauties.
We enter the second of the range of greenhouses, also devoted to
Odontoglossums, Masdevallias, and "cool" genera, as crowded as the last;
pass down it to the corridor, and return through number three, which is
occupied by Cattleyas and such. There is a lofty mass of rock in front,
with a pool below, and a pleasant sound of splashing water. Many orchids
of the largest size are planted out here--Cypripedium, Cattleya,
Sobralia, Phajus, Loelia, Zygopetalum, and a hundred more,
"specimens," as the phrase runs--that is to say, they have ten, twenty,
fifty, flower spikes. I attempt no more descriptions; to one who knows,
the plain statement of fact is enough, one who does not is unable to
conceive that sight by the aid of words. But the Sobralias demand
attention. They stand here in clumps two feet thick, bearing a
wilderness of loveliest bloom--like Irises magnified and glorified by
heavenly enchantment. Nature designed a practical joke perhaps when she
granted these noble flowers but one day's existence each, while dingy
Epidendrums last six months, or nine. I imagine that for stateliness
and delicacy combined there are no plants that excel the Sobralia. At
any single point they may be surpassed--among orchids, be it understood,
by nothing else in Nature's realm--but their magnificence and grace
together cannot be outshone.
I must not dwell upon the marvels here, in front, on either side, and
above--a hint is enough. There are baskets of _Loelia anceps_ three
feet across, lifted bodily from the tree in their native forest where
they had grown perhaps for centuries. One of them--the white variety,
too, which æsthetic infidels might adore, though they believed in
nothing--opened a hundred spikes at Christmas time; we do not concern
ourselves with minute reckonings here. But an enthusiastic novice
counted the flowers blooming one day on that huge mass of _Loelia
albida_ yonder, and they numbered two hundred and eleven--unless, as
some say, this was the quantity of "spikes," in which case one must have
to multiply by two or three. Such incidents maybe taken for granted at
the farm.
[Illustration: LOELIANCEPS SCHROEDERIANA.
Reduced to One Sixth]
But we must not pass a new orchid, quite distinct and supremely
beautiful, for which Professor Reichenbach has not yet found a name
sufficiently appreciative. Only eight pieces were discovered, whence we
must suspect that it is very rare at home; I do not know where the
home is, and I should not tell if I did. Such information is more
valuable than the surest tip for the Derby, or most secrets of State.
This new orchid is a Cyrrhopetalun, of very small size, but, like so
many others, its flower is bigger than itself. The spike inclines almost
at a right angle, and the pendent half is hung with golden bells, nearly
two inches in length. Beneath it stands the very rare scarlet
Utricularia, growing in the axils of its native Vriesia, as in a cup
always full; but as yet the flower has been seen in Europe only by the
eyes of faith. It may be news to some that Utricularias do not belong to
the orchid family--have, in fact, not the slightest kinship, though
associated with it by growers to the degree that Mr. Sander admits them
to his farm. A little story hangs to the exquisite _U. Campbelli_. All
importers are haunted by the spectral image of _Cattleya labiata_,
which, in its true form, had been brought to Europe only once, seventy
years ago, when this book was written. Some time since, Mr. Sander was
looking through the drawings of Sir Robert Schomburgk, in the British
Museum, among which is a most eccentric Cattleya named--for reasons
beyond comprehension--a variety of _C. Mossiæ_. He jumped at the
conclusion that this must be the long-lost _C. labiata_. So strong
indeed was his confidence that he despatched a man post-haste over the
Atlantic to explore the Roraima mountain; and, further, gave him strict
injunctions to collect nothing but this precious species. For eight
months the traveller wandered up and down among the Indians, searching
forest and glade, the wooded banks of streams, the rocks and clefts, but
he found neither _C. labiata_ nor that curious plant which Sir Robert
Schomburgk described. Upon the other hand, he came across the lovely
_Utricularia Campbelli_, and in defiance of instructions brought it
down. But very few reached England alive. For six weeks they travelled
on men's backs, from their mountain home to the River Essequibo; thence,
six weeks in canoe to Georgetown, with twenty portages; and, so aboard
ship. The single chance of success lies in bringing them down,
undisturbed, in the great clumps of moss which are their habitat, as is
the Vriesia of other species.
I will allow myself a very short digression here. It may seem
unaccountable that a plant of large growth, distinct flower, and
characteristic appearance, should elude the eye of persons trained to
such pursuits, and encouraged to spend money on the slightest prospect
of success, for half a century and more. But if we recall the
circumstances it ceases to astonish. I myself spent many months in the
forests of Borneo, Central America, and the West African coast. After
that experience I scarcely understand how such a quest, for a given
object, can ever be successful unless by mere fortune. To look for a
needle in a bottle of hay is a promising enterprise compared with the
search for an orchid clinging to some branch high up in that green world
of leaves. As a matter of fact, collectors seldom discover what they are
specially charged to seek, if the district be untravelled--the natives,
therefore, untrained to grasp and assist their purpose. This remark does
not apply to orchids alone; not by any means. Few besides the
scientific, probably, are aware that the common _Eucharis amasonica_ has
been found only once; that is to say, but one consignment has ever been
received in Europe, from which all our millions in cultivation have
descended. Where it exists in the native state is unknown, but assuredly
this ignorance is nobody's fault. For a generation at least skilled
explorers have been hunting. Mr. Sander has had his turn, and has
enjoyed the satisfaction of discovering species closely allied, as
_Eucharis Mastersii_ and _Eucharis Sanderiana_; but the old-fashioned
bulb is still to seek.
In this third greenhouse is a large importation of _Cattleya Trianæ_,
which arrived so late last year that their sheaths have opened
contemporaneously with _C. Mossiæ_. I should fear to hazard a guess how
many thousand flowers of each are blooming now. As the Odontoglossums
cover their stage with snow wreaths, so this is decked with upright
plumes of _Cattleya Trianæ_, white and rose and purple in endless
variety of tint, with many a streak of other hue between.
Suddenly our guide becomes excited, staring at a basket overhead beyond
reach. It contains a smooth-looking object, very green and fat, which
must surely be good to eat--but this observation is alike irrelevant and
disrespectful. Why, yes! Beyond all possibility of doubt that is a spike
issuing from the axil of its fleshy leaf! Three inches long it is
already, thick as a pencil, with a big knob of bud at the tip. Such
pleasing surprises befall the orchidacean! This plant came from Borneo
so many years ago that the record is lost; but the oldest servant of the
farm remembers it, as a poor cripple, hanging between life and death,
season after season. Cheerful as interesting is the discussion that
arises. More like a Vanda than anything else, the authorities resolve,
but not a Vanda! Commending it to the special care of those responsible,
we pass on.
Here is the largest mass of Catasetum ever found, or even rumoured,
lying in ponderous bulk upon the stage, much as it lay in a Guatemalan
forest. It is engaged in the process of "plumping up." Orchids shrivel
in their long journey, and it is the importer's first care to renew that
smooth and wholesome rotundity which indicates a conscience untroubled,
a good digestion, and an assurance of capacity to fulfil any reasonable
demand. Beneath the staging you may see myriads of withered sticks,
clumps of shrunken and furrowed bulbs by the thousand, hung above those
leaf-beds mentioned; they are "plumping" in the damp shade. The larger
pile of Catasetum--there are two--may be four feet long, three wide, and
eighteen inches thick; how many hundreds of flowers it will bear passes
computation. I remarked that when broken up into handsome pots it would
fill a greenhouse of respectable dimensions; but it appears that there
is not the least intention of dividing it. The farmer has several
clients who will snap at this natural curiosity, when, in due time, it
is put on the market.
At the far end of the house stands another piece of rockwork, another
little cascade, and more marvels than I can touch upon. In fact, there
are several which would demand all the space at my disposition, but,
happily, one reigns supreme. This is a _Cattleya Mossiæ_, the pendant of
the Catasetum, by very far the largest orchid of any kind that was ever
brought to Europe. For some years Mr. Sander, so to speak, hovered round
it, employing his shrewdest and most diplomatic agents. For this was not
a forest specimen. It grew upon a high tree beside an Indian's hut, near
Caraccas, and belonged to him as absolutely as the fruit in his
compound. His great-grandfather, indeed, had "planted" it, so he
declared, but this is highly improbable. The giant has embraced two
stems of the tree, and covers them both so thickly that the bare ends of
wood at top alone betray its secret; for it was sawn off, of course,
above and below. I took the dimensions as accurately as may be, with an
object so irregular and prickly. It measures--the solid bulk of it,
leaves not counted--as nearly as possible five feet in height and four
thick--one plant, observe, pulsating through its thousand limbs from one
heart; at least, I mark no spot where the circulation has been checked
by accident or disease, and the pseudo-bulbs beyond have been obliged to
start an independent existence.
In speaking of _Loelia elegans_, I said that those Brazilian
islanders who have lost it might find solace could they see its
happiness in exile. The gentle reader thought this an extravagant figure
of speech, no doubt, but it is not wholly fanciful. Indians of Tropical
America cherish a fine orchid to the degree that in many cases no sum,
and no offer of valuables, will tempt them to part with it. Ownership is
distinctly recognized when the specimen grows near a village. The root
of this feeling, whether superstition or taste, sense of beauty, rivalry
in magnificence of church displays, I have not been able to trace. It
runs very strong in Costa Rica, where the influence of the aborigines is
scarcely perceptible, and there, at least, the latter motive is
sufficient explanation. Glorious beyond all our fancy can conceive, must
be the show in those lonely forest churches, which no European visits
save the "collector," on a feast day. Mr. Roezl, whose name is so
familiar to botanists, left a description of the scene that time he
first beheld the Flor de Majo. The church was hung with garlands of it,
he says, and such emotions seized him at the view that he choked. The
statement is quite credible. Those who see that wonder now, prepared for
its transcendent glory, find no words to express their feeling: imagine
an enthusiast beholding it for the first time, unwarned, unsuspecting
that earth can show such a sample of the flowers that bloomed in Eden!
And not a single branch, but garlands of it! Mr. Roezl proceeds to speak
of bouquets of _Masdevallia Harryana_ three feet across, and so forth.
The natives showed him "gardens" devoted to this species, for the
ornament of their church; it was not cultivated, of course, but
evidently planted. They were acres in extent.
The Indian to whom this _Cattleya Mossiæ_ belonged refused to part with
it at any price for years; he was overcome by a rifle of peculiar
fascination, added to the previous offers. A magic-lantern has very
great influence in such cases, and the collector provides himself with
one or more nowadays as part of his outfit. Under that charm, with
47l. in cash, Mr. Sander secured his first _C. Mossiæ alba_, but it
has failed hitherto in another instance, though backed by 100l., in
"trade" or dollars, at the Indian's option.
Thence we pass to a wide and lofty house which was designed for growing
_Victoria Regia_ and other tropic water-lilies. It fulfilled its purpose
for a time, and I never beheld those plants under circumstances so well
fitted to display their beauty. But they generate a small black fly in
myriads beyond belief, and so the culture of _Nymphæa_ was dropped. A
few remain, in manageable quantities, just enough to adorn the tank
with blue and rosy stars; but it is arched over now with baskets as
thick as they will hang--Dendrobium, Coelogene, Oncidium,
Spathoglottis, and those species which love to dwell in the
neighbourhood of steaming water. My vocabulary is used up by this time.
The wonders here must go unchronicled.
We have viewed but four houses out of twelve, a most cursory glance at
that! The next also is intermediate, filled with Cattleyas, warm
Oncidiums, Lycastes, Cypripediums--the inventory of names alone would
occupy all my space remaining. At every step I mark some object worth a
note, something that recalls, or suggests, or demands a word. But we
must get along. The sixth house is cool again--Odontoglossums and such;
the seventh is given to Dendrobes. But facing us as we enter stands a
_Lycaste Skinneri_, which illustrates in a manner almost startling the
infinite variety of the orchid. I positively dislike this species,
obtrusive, pretentious, vague in colour, and stiff in form. But what a
royal glorification of it we have here!--what exquisite veining and
edging of purple or rose; what a velvet lip of crimson darkening to
claret! It is merely a sport of Nature, but she allows herself such
glorious freaks in no other realm of her domain. And here is a new
Brassia just named by the pontiff of orchidology, Professor Reichenbach.
Those who know the tribe of Brassias will understand why I make no
effort to describe it. This wonderful thing is yet more "all over the
shop" than its kindred. Its dorsal sepal measures three inches in
length, its "tail," five inches, with an enormous lip between. They term
it the Squid Flower, or Octopus, in Mexico; and a good name too. But in
place of the rather weakly colouring habitual it has a grand decision of
character, though the tones are like--pale yellow and greenish; its
raised spots, red and deep green, are distinct as points of velvet upon
muslin.
In the eighth house we return to Odontoglossums and cool genera. Here
are a number of Hybrids of the "natural class," upon which I should have
a good deal to say if inexorable fate permitted; "natural hybrids" are
plants which seem species, but, upon thoughtful examination and study,
are suspected to be the offspring of kindred and neighbours. Interesting
questions arise in surveying fine specimens side by side, in flower, all
attributed to a cross between _Odontoglossum Lindleyanum_ and
_Odontoglossum crispum Alexandræ_, and all quite different. But we must
get on to the ninth house, from which the tenth branches.
Here is the stove, and twilight reigns over that portion where a variety
of super-tropic genera are "plumping up," making roots, and generally
reconciling themselves to a new start in life. Such dainty, delicate
souls may well object to the apprenticeship. It must seem very degrading
to find themselves laid out upon a bed of cinders and moss, hung up by
the heels above it, and even planted therein; but if they have as much
good sense as some believe, they may be aware that it is all for their
good. At the end, in full sunshine, stands a little copse of _Vanda
teres_, set as closely as their stiff branches will allow. Still we must
get on. There are bits of wood hanging here so rotten that they scarcely
hold together; faintest dots of green upon them assure the experienced
that presently they will be draped with pendant leaves, and presently
again, we hope, with blue and white and scarlet flowers of Utricularia.