so readily to the hybridizer. Darwin taught us to expect that species
which can rarely hope to secure a chance of reproduction will learn to
make the process as easy and as sure as the conditions would admit--that
none of those scarce opportunities may be lost. And so it proves.
Orchidaceans are apt to declare that "everybody" is hybridizing
Cypripeds nowadays. At least, so many persons have taken up this
agreeable and interesting pursuit that science has lost count of the
less striking results. Briefly, the first hybrid Cypripedium was raised
by Dominy, in 1869, and named after Mr. Harris, who, as has been said,
suggested the operation to him. Seden produced the next in 1874--_Cyp.
Sedeni_ from _Cyp. Schlimii × Cyp. longiflorum_; curious as the single
instance yet noted in which seedlings turn out identical, whichever
parent furnish the pollen-masses. In every other case they vary when the
functions of the parents are exchanged.
For a long time after 1853, when serious work begun, Messrs. Veitch had
a monopoly of the business. It is but forty years, therefore, since
experiments commenced, in which time hundreds of hybrids have been
added to our list of flowers; but--this is my point--Nature has been
busy at the same task for unknown ages, and who can measure the fruits
of her industry? I do not offer the remark as an argument; our
observations are too few as yet. It may well be urged that if Nature had
been thus active, the "natural hybrids" which can be recognized would be
much more numerous than they are. I have pointed out that many of the
largest genera show very few; many none at all. But is it impossible
that the explanation appears to fail only because we cannot yet push it
far enough? When the hybridizer causes by force a fruitful union betwixt
two genera, he seems to triumph over a botanical law. But suppose the
genera themselves are artificial, only links in a grand chain which
Nature has forged slowly, patiently, with many a break and many a
failure, in the course of ages? She would finish her work bit by bit,
and at every stage the new variety may have united with others in
endless succession. Few natural hybrids can be identified among
Cattleyas, for instance. But suppose Cattleyas are all hybrids, the
result of promiscuous intercourse among genera during cycles of
time--suppose, that is, the genus itself sprang from parents widely
diverse, crossing, returning, intercrossing from age to age? It is
admitted that Cypripedium represents a primeval form--perhaps _the_
primeval form--of orchid. Suppose that we behold, in this nineteenth
century, a mere epoch, or stage, in the ceaseless evolution? Only an
irresponsible amateur could dare talk in this way. It would, in truth,
be very futile speculation if experiments already successful did not
offer a chance of proof one day, and others, hourly ripening, did not
summon us to think.
I may cite, with the utmost brevity, two or three facts which--to me
unscientific--appear inexplicable, unless species of orchid were
developed on the spot; or the theory of special local creations be
admitted. _Oncidium cucullatum_ flourishes in certain limited areas of
Peru, of Ecuador, of Colombia, and of Venezuela. It is not found in the
enormous spaces between, nor are any Oncidiums which might be accepted
as its immediate parents. Can we suppose that the winds or the birds
carried it over mountain ranges and broad rivers more than two thousand
miles, in four several directions, to establish it upon a narrow tract?
It is a question of faith; but, for my own part, I could as soon believe
that æsthetic emigrants took it with them. But even winds and birds
could not bear the seed of _Dendrobium heterocarpum_ from Ceylon to
Burmah, and from Burmah to Luzon in the Philippines; at least, I am
utterly unable to credit it. If the plants were identical, or nearly, in
their different habitats, this case would be less significant. But the
_D. heterocarpum_ of Ceylon has a long, thin pseudo-bulb, with bright
yellow flowers; that of Burmah is short and thick, with paler colouring;
that of Luzon is no less than three feet high, exaggerating the stature
of its most distant relative while showing the colour of its nearest;
but all, absolutely, the same botanic plant. I have already mentioned
other cases.
Experience hitherto suggests that we cannot raise Odontoglossum
seedlings in this climate; very, very few have ever been obtained.
Attempts in France have been rather more successful. Baron Adolf de
Rothschild has four different hybrids of Odontoglossum in bud at this
present moment in his garden at Armainvilliers, near Paris. M. Moreau
has a variety of seedlings.
Authorities admit now that a very great proportion of our Odontoglossums
are natural hybrids; so many can be identified beyond the chance of
error that the field for speculation has scarcely bounds. _O. excellens_
is certainly descended from _O. Pescatorei_ and _O. triumphans_, _O.
elegans_ from _O. cirrhosum_ and _O. Hallii_, _O. Wattianum_ from _O.
Harryanum_ and _O. hystrix_. And it must be observed that we cannot
trace pedigree beyond the parents as yet, saving a very, very few cases.
But unions have been contracting during cycles of time; doubtless, from
the laws of things the orchid is latest born of Nature's children in the
world of flora, but mighty venerable by this time, nevertheless. We can
identify the mixed offspring of _O. crispum Alexandræ_ paired with _O.
gloriosum_, with _O. luteopurpureum_, with _O. Lindleyanum_; these
parents dwell side by side, and they could not fail to mingle. We can
already trace with assurance a few double crosses, as _O. lanceans_, the
result of an alliance between _O. crispum Alexandræ_ and _O.
Ruckerianum_, which latter is a hybrid of the former with _O.
gloriosum_. When we observe _O. Roezlii_ upon the bank of the River
Cauca and _O. vexillarium_ on the higher ground, whilst _O. vexillarium
superbum_ lives between, we may confidently attribute its peculiarity of
a broad dark blotch upon the lip to the influence of _O. Roezlii_. So,
taking station at Manaos upon the Amazons, we find, to eastward,
_Cattleya superba_, to westward _C. Eldorado_, and in the midst _C.
Brymeriana_, which, it is safe to assume, represents the union of the
two; for that matter, the theory will very soon be tested, for M.
Alfred Bleu has "made the cross" of _C. superba_ and _C. Eldorado_, and
its flower is expected with no little interest.
These cases, and many more, are palpable. We see a variety in the making
at this date. A thousand years hence, or ten thousand, by more distant
alliances, by a change of conditions, the variety may well have
developed into a species, or, by marriage excursions yet wider, it may
have founded a genus.
I have named Mr. Cookson several times; in fact, to discourse of
hybridization for amateurs without reference to his astonishing "record"
would be grotesque. One Sunday afternoon, ten years ago, he amused
himself with investigating the structure of a few Cypripeds, after
reading Darwin's book; and he impregnated them. To his astonishment the
seed-vessel began to swell, and so did Mr. Cookson's enthusiasm
simultaneously. He did not yet know, and, happily, these experiments
gave him no reason to suspect, that pseudo-fertilization can be
produced, actually, by anything. So intensely susceptible is the
stigmatic surface of the Cypriped that a touch excites it furiously.
Upon the irritation caused by a bit of leaf, it will go sometimes
through all the visible processes of fecundation, the ovary will swell
and ripen, and in due time burst, with every appearance of fertility;
but, of course, there is no seed. Beginners, therefore, must not be too
sanguine when their bold attempts promise well.
From that day Mr. Cookson gave his leisure to hybridization, with such
results as, in short, are known to everybody who takes an interest in
orchids. Failures in abundance he had at first, but the proportion has
grown less and less until, at this moment, he confidently looks for
success in seventy-five per cent. of his attempts; but this does not
apply to bi-generic crosses, which hitherto have not engaged his
attention much. Beginning with Cypripedium, he has now ninety-four
hybrids--very many plants of each--produced from one hundred and forty
capsules sown. Of Calanthe, sixteen hybrids from nineteen capsules; of
Dendrobium, thirty-six hybrids from forty-one capsules; of Masdevallia,
four hybrids from seventeen capsules; of Odontoglossum, none from nine
capsules; of Phajus, two from two capsules; of Vanda, none from one
capsule; of bi-generic, one from nine capsules. There may be another
indeed, but the issue of an alliance so startling, and produced under
circumstances so dubious, that Mr. Cookson will not own it until he sees
the flower.
It does not fall within the scope of this chapter to analyze the list
of this gentleman's triumphs, but even _savants_ will be interested to
hear a few of the most remarkable crosses therein, for it is not
published. I cite the following haphazard:--
Phajus Wallichii × Phajus tuberculosus.
Loelia præstans. × Cattleya Dowiana.
" purpurata × Cattleya Dowiana.
" " × Loelia grandis tenebrosa.
" " × Cattleya Mendellii.
" marginata × Loelia elegans Cooksoni.
Cattleya Mendellii × " purpurata.
" Trianæ × " harpophylla.
" Percivalliana × "
" Lawrenceana × Cattleya Mossiæ.
" gigas × " Gaskelliana.
" crispa × " "
" Dowiana × " "
" Schofieldiana × " gigas imperialis.
" Leopoldii × " Dowiana.
Cypripedium Stonei × Cypripedium Godefroyæ.
" " × " Spicerianum.
" Sanderianum × " Veitchii.
" Spicerianum × " Sanderianum.
" Io × " vexillarium.
Dendrobium nobile nobilus × Dendrobium Falconerii.
" " × " nobile Cooksonianum.
" Wardianum × " aureum.
" " × " Linawianum.
" luteolum × " nobile nobilius.
Masdevallia Tovarensis × Masdevallia bella.
" Shuttleworthii × " Tovarensis.
" " × " rosea.
Of these, and so many more, Mr. Cookson has at this moment fifteen
thousand plants. Since my object is to rouse the attention of amateurs,
that they may go and do likewise, I may refer lightly to a consideration
which would be out of place under other circumstances. Professional
growers of orchids are fond of speculating how much the Wylam collection
would realize if judiciously put on the market. I shall not mention the
estimates I have heard; it is enough to say they reach many, many
thousands of pounds; that the difference between the highest and the
lowest represents a handsome fortune. And this great sum has been earned
by brains alone, without increase of expenditure, by boldness of
initiative, thought, care, and patience; without special knowledge also,
at the beginning, for ten years ago Mr. Cookson had no more acquaintance
with orchids than is possessed by every gentleman who takes an interest
in them, while his gardener the early time was both ignorant and
prejudiced. This should encourage enterprise, I think--the revelation of
means to earn great wealth in a delightful employment. But amateurs must
be quick. Almost every professional grower of orchids is preparing to
enter the field. They, however, must needs give the most of their
attention to such crosses as may be confidently expected to catch the
public fancy, as has been said. I advise my readers to be daring, even
desperate. It is satisfactory to learn that Mr. Cookson intends to make
a study of bi-generic hybridization henceforward.[9]
The common motive for crossing orchids is that, of course, which urges
the florist in other realms of botany. He seeks to combine tints, forms,
varied peculiarities, in a new shape. Orchids lend themselves to
experiment with singular freedom, within certain limits, and their array
of colours seems to invite our interference. Taking species and genera
all round, yellow dominates, owing to its prevalence in the great family
of Oncidium; purples and mauves stand next by reason of their supremacy
among the Cattleyas. Green follows--if we admit the whole group of
Epidendrums--the great majority of which are not beautiful, however. Of
magenta, the rarest of natural hues, we have not a few instances.
Crimson, in a thousand shades, is frequent; pure white a little rare,
orange much rarer; scarlet very uncommon, and blue almost unknown,
though supremely lovely in the few instances that occur. Thus the
temptation to hybridize with the object of exchanging colours is
peculiarly strong.
It becomes yet stronger by reason of the delightful uncertainty which
attends one's efforts. So far as I have heard or read, no one has yet
been able to offer a suggestion of any law which decides the result of
combination. In a general way, both parents will be represented in the
offspring, but how, to what degree either will dominate, in what parts,
colours, or fashions a hybrid will show its mixed lineage, the
experienced refuse to conjecture, saving certain easy classes. After
choosing parents thoughtfully, with a clear perception of the aim in
view, one must "go it blind." Very often the precise effect desired
appears in due time; very often something unlooked for turns up; but
nearly always the result is beautiful, whether or no it serve the
operator's purpose. Besides effect, however, there is an utility in
hybridization which relates to culture. Thus, for example, the lovely
_Cypripedium Fairieanum_ is so difficult to grow that few dealers keep
it in their stock; by crossing it with _Cyp. barbatum_, from Mount
Ophir, a rough-and-ready cool species, we get _Cyp. vexillarium_, which
takes after the latter in constitution while retaining much of the
beauty of the former. Or again, _Cypripedium Sanderianum_, from the
Malay Archipelago, needs such swampy heat as few even of its fellows
appreciate; it has been crossed with _Cyp. insigne_, which will flourish
anywhere, and though the seedlings have not yet bloomed, there is no
reasonable doubt that they will prove as useful and beautiful as in the
other case. _Cypripedium insigne_, of the fine varieties, has been
employed in a multitude of such instances. There is the striking _Cyp.
hirsutissimum_, with sepals of a nameless green, shaded yellow, studded
with spiculæ, exquisitely frilled, and tipped, by a contrast almost
startling, with pale purple. It is very "hot" in the first place, and,
in the second, its appearance would be still more effective if some
white could be introduced; present it to _Cyp. niveum_ and confidently
expect that the progeny will bear cooler treatment, whilst their "dorsal
sepal" will be blanched. So the charming _Masdevallia Tovarensis_, warm,
white and lowly, will take to itself the qualities, in combination, of
_Mas. bella_, tall, cool, and highly coloured red and yellow, as Mr.
Cookson has proved; so _Phaloenopsis Wightii_, delicate of growth and
small of flower, will become strong and generous by union with _Phal.
grandiflora_, without losing its dainty tones.
It is worth mention that the first Flora medal offered by the Royal
Horticultural Society for a seedling--a hybrid--in open competition was
won by _Loelia Arnoldiana_ in 1891; the same variety took the first
prize in 1892. It was raised by Messrs. Sander from _L. purpurata_ ×
_Catt. labiata_; seed sown 1881, flowered 1891.
And now for the actual process by which these most desirable results,
and ten thousand others, may be obtained. I shall not speak upon my own
authority, which the universe has no reason to trust. Let us observe the
methods practised in the great establishment of Mr. Sander at St.
Albans.
Remark, in the first place, the low, unshaded range of houses
devoted to hybridization, a contrast to those lofty structures, a
hundred yards long or more, where plants merely flourish and bloom.
Their span roofs one may touch with the hand, and their glass is
always newly cleaned. The first and last demand of the hybridizer is
light--light--eternally light. Want of it stands at the bottom of
all his disappointments, perhaps. The very great majority of
orchids, such as I refer to, have their home in the tropics; even
the "cool" Odontoglots and Masdevallias owe that quality to their
mountaineering habit, not to latitude. They live so near the equator
that sunshine descends almost perpendicularly--and the sun shines
for more than half the year. But in this happy isle of ours, upon
the very brightest day of midsummer, its rays fall at an angle of
28°, declining constantly until, at midwinter, they struggle through
the fogs at an inclination of 75°. The reader may work out this
proportion for himself, but he must add to his reckoning the
thickness of our atmosphere at its best, and the awful number of
cloudy days. We cannot spare one particle of light. The ripening
seed must stand close beneath the glass, and however fierce the
sunshine no blind may be interposed. It is likely that the
mother-plant will be burnt up--quite certain that it will be much
injured.
This house is devoted to the hybridizing of Cypripediums; I choose that
genus for our demonstration, because, as has been said, it is so very
easy and so certain that an intelligent girl mastered all its
eccentricities of structure after a single lesson, which made her
equally proficient in those of Dendrobes, Oncidiums, Odontoglots,
Epidendrums, and I know not how many more. The leaves are green and
smooth as yet, with many a fantastic bloom, and many an ovary that has
just begun to swell, rising amidst the verdure. Each flower spike which
has been crossed carries its neat label, registering the father's name
and the date of union.
Mr. Maynard takes the two first virgin blooms to hand: _Cypripedium
Sanderianum_, and _Cypripedium Godefroyæ_, as it chances. Let us cut off
the lip in order to see more clearly. Looking down now upon the flower,
we mark two wings, the petals, which stood on either side of the
vanished lip. From the junction of these wings issues a round stalk,
about one quarter of an inch long, and slightly hairy, called the
"column." It widens out at the tip, forming a pretty table, rather more
than one-third of an inch long and wide. This table serves no purpose in
our inquiry; it obstructs the view, and we will remove it; but the
reader understands, of course, that these amputations cannot be
performed when business is intended. Now--the table snipped off--we see
those practical parts of the flower that interest us. Beneath its
protection, the column divides into three knobbly excrescences, the
central plain, those on either side of it curling back and down, each
bearing at its extremity a pad, the size of a small pin's head, outlined
distinctly with a brown colour. It is quite impossible to mistake these
things; equally impossible, I hope, to misunderstand my description.
The pads are the male, the active organs.
But the column does not finish here. It trends downward, behind and
below the pads, and widens out, with an exquisitely graceful curve, into
a disc one-quarter of an inch broad. This is the female, the receptive
part; but here we see the peculiarity of orchid structure. For the upper
surface of the disc is not susceptible; it is the under surface which
must be impregnated, though the imagination cannot conceive a mere
accident which would throw those fertilizing pads upon their destined
receptacle. They are loosely attached and adhesive, when separated, to a
degree actually astonishing, as is the disc itself; but if it were
possible to displace them by shaking, they could never fall where they
ought. Some outside impulse is needed to bring the parts together. In
their native home insects perform that service--sometimes. Here we may
take the first implement at hand, a knife, a bit of stick, a pencil. We
remove the pads, which yield at a touch, and cling to the object. We lay
them one by one on the receptive disc, where they seem to melt into the
surface--and the trick is done. Write out your label--_"Cyp. Sanderianum
× Cyp. Godefroyæ_, Maynard." Add the date, and leave Nature to her work.
She does not linger. One may almost say that the disc begins to swell
instantly. That part which we term the column is the termination of the
seed-purse, the ovary, which occupies an inch, or two, or three, of the
stalk, behind the flower. In a very few days its thickening becomes
perceptible. The unimpregnated bloom falls off at its appointed date, as
everybody knows; but if fertilized it remains entire, saving the
labellum, until the seed is ripe, perhaps half a year afterwards--but
withered, of course. Very singular and quite inexplicable are the
developments that arise in different genera, or even species, after
fertilization. In the Warscewiczellas, for example, not the seed-purse
only, but the whole column swells. _Phaloenopsis Luddemanniana_ is
specially remarkable. Its exquisite bars and mottlings of rose, brown,
and purple begin to take a greenish hue forthwith. A few days later, the
lip jerks itself off with a sudden movement, as observers declare. Then
the sepals and petals remaining take flesh, thicken and thicken, while
the hues fade and the green encroaches, until, presently, they assume
the likeness of a flower, abnormal in shape but perfect, of dense green
wax.
This Cypripedium of ours will ripen its seed in about twelve months,
more or less. Then the capsule, two inches long and two-thirds of an
inch diameter, will burst. Mr. Maynard will cut it off, open it wide,
and scatter the thousands of seeds therein, perhaps 150,000, over pots
in which orchids are growing. After experiments innumerable, this has
been found the best course. The particles, no bigger than a grain of
dust, begin to swell at once, reach the size of a mustard-seed, and in
five or six weeks--or as many months--they put out a tiny leaf, then a
tiny root, presently another leaf, and in four or five years we may look
for the hybridized flower. Long before, naturally, they have been
established in their own pots.
Strange incidents occur continually in this pursuit, as may be believed.
Nine years since, Mr. Godseff crossed _Catasetum macrocarpum_ with
_Catasetum callosum_. The seed ripened, and in due time it was sown; but
none ever germinated in the proper place. A long while afterwards Mr.
Godseff remarked a tiny little green speck in a crevice above the door
of this same house. It grew and grew very fast, never receiving water
unless by the rarest accident, until those experts could identify a
healthy young Catasetum. And there it has flourished ever since,
receiving no attention; for it is the first rule in orchid culture to
leave a plant to itself where it is doing well, no matter how strange
the circumstances may appear to us. This Catasetum, wafted by the wind,
when the seed was sown, found conditions suitable where it lighted, and
quickened, whilst all its fellows, carefully provided for, died without
a sign. It thrives upon the moisture of the house. In a very few years
it will flower. In another case, when all hope of the germination of a
quantity of seed had long been lost, it became necessary to take up the
wooden trellis that formed the flooring of the path; a fine crop of
young hybrids was discovered clinging to the under side.
The amateur who has followed us thus far with interest, may inquire how
long it will be before he can reasonably expect to see the outcome of
our proceedings? In the first place, it must be noted that the time
shortens continually as we gain experience. The statements following I
leave unaltered, because they are given by Messrs. Veitch, our oldest
authority, in the last edition of their book. But at the Temple Show
this year Norman C. Cookson, Esq., exhibited _Catt. William Murray_,
offspring of _Catt. Mendellii × Catt. Lawrenceana_, a lovely flower
which gained a first class certificate. It was only four years old.