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Title: The Woodlands Orchids
Author: Frederick Boyle
Illustrator: J. L. Macfarlane
Release Date: May 2, 2010 [EBook #32205]
Language: English
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THE WOODLANDS ORCHIDS
[Illustration: ZYGO-COLAX × WOODLANDSENSE.]
THE WOODLANDS ORCHIDS
DESCRIBED AND ILLUSTRATED
_WITH STORIES OF ORCHID-COLLECTING_
BY
FREDERICK BOYLE
Author of 'Camp Notes,' 'Legends of My Bungalow,'
'About Orchids, A Chat,' etc, etc, etc.
_COLOURED PLATES BY J. L. MACFARLANE, F.R.H.S._
London
MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED
NEW YORK: THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
1901
_All rights reserved_
This work is not of the class which needs a Preface. But to the Editors of
the _Pall Mall Gazette_, _Sunday Times_, _Black and White_, _Chambers's
Journal_, _Wide Wide World_, and _Badminton Magazine_ I am indebted for
license to republish my stories of Orchid-seeking, and it is pleasant to
acknowledge their courtesy. If those tales amuse the general reader, I
trust that other portions of the work will be found not uninteresting, nor
even unprofitable, by orchid-growers. Plain descriptions of scarce species
and varieties are not readily accessible. A mere list of the hybrids in
the Woodlands collection would be found useful, pending the issue of that
international catalogue which must be undertaken shortly; but beyond this
I have noted the peculiarities of colour and form in such of the progeny
as seemed most curious. No doubt many experts will wish that I had
described some which are passed over and omitted some described--without
agreeing among themselves in either case perhaps. But I have done my best.
CONTENTS
PAGE
HOW THE COLLECTION WAS FORMED 1
THE CATTLEYA HOUSE 7
A LEGEND OF ROEZL 17
THE CATTLEYA HOUSE--_Continued_ 25
A STORY OF CATTLEYA BOWRINGIANA 37
A STORY OF CATTLEYA MOSSIAE 45
CYPRIPEDIUM INSIGNE 53
STORY OF CATTLEYA SKINNERI ALBA 59
THE PHALAENOPSIS HOUSE 67
STORY OF VANDA SANDERIANA 71
STORY OF PHALAENOPSIS SANDERIANA 79
HYBRID CATTLEYAS AND LAELIAS 87
A LEGEND OF MADAGASCAR 99
LAELIA PURPURATA 107
STORY OF DENDROBIUM SCHRÖDERIANUM 113
STORY OF DENDROBIUM LOWII 121
CALANTHE HOUSE 129
STORY OF COELOGYNE SPECIOSA 135
CATTLEYA LABIATA HOUSE 143
A STORY OF BRASSAVOLA DIGBYANA 151
LYCASTES, SOBRALIAS, AND ANGULOAS 159
STORY OF SOBRALIA KIENASTIANA 163
THE CYPRIPEDIUM HOUSE 171
STORY OF CYPRIPEDIUM CURTISII 183
CYPRIPEDIUMS--_Continued_ 191
STORY OF CYPRIPEDIUM PLATYTAENIUM 205
STORY OF CYPRIPEDIUM SPICERIANUM 213
THE COOL HOUSE 221
STORY OF ODONTOGLOSSUM HARRYANUM 229
MASDEVALLIAS 237
ONCIDIUMS 239
STORY OF ONCIDIUM SPLENDIDUM 241
LAELIA JONGHEANA 249
STORY OF BULBOPHYLLUM BARBIGERUM 253
INDEX 261
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Zygo-Colax, Woodlands variety _Frontispiece_
Laelia elegans cyanthus _To face page_ 16
" " Macfarlanei " 24
Cattleya Trianae Measuresiae " 35
" Schroderae Miss Mary Measures " 52
Cypripedium insigne Sanderae " 57
Laelia grandis tenebrosa, Walton Grange var. " 86
Cattleya labiata Measuresiana " 142
Lycaste Skinneri R. H. Measures " 160
Cypripedium William Lloyd " 182
" Rothwellianum " 190
" reticulatum, var. Bungerothi " 204
" Dr. Ryan " 219
Odontoglossum Rossii, Woodlands variety " 228
" × Harryano-crispum " 240
" coronarium " 256
HOW THE COLLECTION WAS FORMED
This question may be answered shortly; it was formed--at least the
beginning of it--under compulsion. After fifteen years of very hard work,
Mr. Measures broke down. The doctor prescribed a long rest, and insisted
on it; but the patient was equally determined not to risk the career just
opening, with an assurance of success, by taking a twelve-months' holiday.
Reluctantly the doctor sought an alternative. Yachting he
proposed--hunting--shooting; at length, in despair, horse-racing!
Zealously and conscientiously undertaken, that pursuit yields a good deal
of employment for the mind. And one who follows it up and down the country
must needs spend several hours a day in the open air. Such was the
argument; we may suspect that the good man had a sporting turn and hoped
to get valuable tips from a grateful client.
But nothing would suit. After days of cogitation, at his wits' end, the
doctor conceived an idea which might have occurred to some at the outset.
'Take a house in the suburbs,' he advised, 'with a large garden. Cultivate
some special variety of plant and make a study of it.' This commended
itself. As a boy Mr. Measures loved gardening. In the Lincolnshire hamlet
where he was born, the vicar took pride in his roses and things, as is the
wont of vicars who belong to the honest old school. It was an hereditary
taste with the Measures' kin. Forthwith a house, with seven acres of land
about it, was purchased at Streatham--'The Woodlands,' destined to win
renown in the annals of Orchidology.
But the special variety of plant had still to be selected. It was to be
something with a flower, as Mr. Measures understood; hardy, and so
interesting in some way, no matter what, that a busy man could find
distraction in studying it. Such conditions are not difficult for one
willing to spend hours over the microscope; but in that case, if the mind
were relieved, the body would suffer. At the present day orchids would
suggest themselves at once; but twenty or twenty-five years ago they were
not so familiar to the public at large. One friend proposed roses, another
carnations, a third chrysanthemums, and a fourth, fifth, and sixth
proposed chrysanthemums, carnations, and roses. Though the house and the
large garden had been provided, Mr. Measures did not see his way.
I am tempted to quote some remarks of my own, published in October 1892.
'I sometimes think that orchids were designed at their inception to
comfort the elect of human beings in this anxious age--the elect, I say,
among whom the rich may or may not be included. Consider! To generate them
must needs have been the latest "act of creation," as the ancient formula
goes--in the realm of plants and flowers at least. The world was old
already when orchids took place therein; for they could not have lived in
those ages which preceded the modern order. Doubtless this family sprang
from some earlier and simpler organisation, like all else. But the Duke of
Argyll's famous argument against the "Origin of Man" applies here: that
organisation could not have been an orchid. Its anatomy forbids
fertilisation by wind, or even, one may say, by accident. Insects are
necessary; in many cases insects of peculiar structure. Great was the
diversion of the foolish--eminent savants may be very foolish
indeed--when Darwin pronounced that if a certain moth, which he had never
seen nor heard of, were to die out in Madagascar, the noblest of the
Angraecums must cease to exist. To the present day no one has seen or
heard of that moth, but the humour of the assertion is worn out. Only
admiring wonder remains, for we know now that the induction is
unassailable. Upon such chances does the life of an orchid depend. It
follows that insects must have been well established before those plants
came into being; and insects in their turn could not live until the earth
had long "borne fruit after its kind."
'But from the beginning of things until this century, until this
generation, one might almost say--civilised man could not enjoy the
boon.... We may fancy the delight of the Greeks and the rivalry of
millionaires at Rome had these flowers been known. "The Ancients" were by
no means unskilful in horticulture--witness that astonishing report of the
display at the coronation of Ptolemy Philadelphus, given by Athenaeus. But
of course they could not have known how to begin growing orchids, even
though they obtained them--I speak of epiphytes and foreign species,
naturally. From the date of the Creation--which we need not fix--till the
end of the Eighteenth Century, ships were not fast enough to convey them
alive; a fact not deplorable since they would have been killed forthwith
on landing.
'... So I return to the argument. It has been seen that orchids are the
latest and most finished work of the Creator; that the blessing was
withheld from civilised man until, step by step, he gained the conditions
necessary to receive it. Order and commerce in the first place; mechanical
invention next, such as swift ships and easy communications; glass-houses,
and a means of heating them which could be regulated with precision and
maintained with no excessive care; knowledge both scientific and
practical; the enthusiasm of wealthy men; the thoughtful and patient
labour of skilled servants--all these were needed to secure for us the
delights of orchid culture. What boon granted to mankind stands in like
case? I think of none. Is it unreasonable then to believe, as was said,
that orchids were designed at their inception to comfort the elect in this
anxious age?'[1]
Mr. Measures, however, was quite unconscious of his opportunities. It was
mere chance which put him on the right track. Tempted by the prospect of
obtaining something, forgotten now, in the way of roses or carnations or
chrysanthemums, he attended a local sale. Presently some pots of
Cypripedium barbatum were put up, in bud and flower. They seemed curious
and pretty--he bought them. It was a relief to find that his gardener did
not show any surprise or embarrassment at the sight--appeared to be
familiar with the abnormal objects indeed. But it would have been
subversive of discipline to ask how they were called. So Mr. Measures
worked round and round the secret, putting questions--what heat did the
things require, what soil, would the green-house already built suit them,
and so forth? Finally, in talking, the gardener pronounced the
name--Cypripedium. Planting this long word deep and firm in his memory Mr.
Measures hurried to the house, looked it out in the multitudinous books on
gardening already stored there, and discovered that Cypripedium is an
orchid. Pursuing the investigation further, he learned that orchids are
the choicest of flowers, that several thousand species of them, all
beautiful and different, may be cultivated, that some are easy and some
difficult. It dawned upon him then that this might well be the special
variety of plant which would answer his purpose.
But he was not the man to choose a hobby without grave deliberation and
experiment. The very next essay, only three days afterwards, suggested a
doubt. He saw a plant of Dendrobium thyrsiflorum in flower, and carried it
home in a whirl of astonishment and delight; but next morning every bloom
had faded, and the gardener assured him that no more could be expected for
twelve months. This was a damper. Evidently a prudent person should think
twice before accumulating plants which flower but once a year, and then
last only four days. But just at that time, by good fortune, he made
acquaintance with Mr. Godseff who, in short, explained things--not too
hastily, but in a long course of instruction. And so, making sure of every
step as he advanced, Mr. Measures gradually formed the Woodlands
collection.
* * * * *
Perhaps it would be logical to describe the arrangement of our treasures.
But an account which might be useful would demand much space, and it could
interest very few readers. It may suffice, therefore, to note that there
are thirty-one 'houses,' distributed in nine groups, or detached
buildings. All through, the health and happiness of the plants are
consulted in the first place, the convenience of visitors in the second,
and show not at all; which is to say that the roofs are low, and the paths
allow two persons to walk abreast in comfort but no more.
The charge of these thirty-one houses is committed to Mr. J. Coles, with
thirteen subordinates regularly employed. Mr. Coles was bred if not born
among orchids, when his father had charge of the late Mr. Smee's admirable
garden, at Wallington. After rising to the post of Foreman there, he
entered the service of Captain Terry, Peterborough House, Fulham, as
Foreman of the orchid houses; but two years afterwards this fine
collection was dispersed, at Captain Terry's death. Then Mr. Coles went
to enlarge his experience in Messrs. Sander's vast establishment at St.
Albans. In due time the office of Orchid and Principal Foreman in the Duke
of Marlborough's houses was offered to him, and at Blenheim he remained
eight years. Thence he proceeded to the Woodlands.
[Illustration: MR. J. COLES.]
THE CATTLEYA HOUSE
Our Cattleya House is 187 feet long, 24 feet wide; glass screens divide it
into seven compartments. The roof, of a single span, is 11 feet high in
the centre, 4 feet at the sides.
The compartment we enter first is devoted to Laelia elegans mostly. On the
big block of tufa in front, blooms of Cattleya and Laelia are displayed
nearly all the year in small tubes among the ferns and moss; for we do not
exhaust our plants by leaving the flowers on them when fully open. Scarlet
Anthuriums crown the block, and among these, on the bare stone, is a
Laelia purpurata, growing strongly, worth observation. For this plant was
deadly sick last year, beyond hope of recovery; as an experiment Mr. Coles
set it on the tufa, wired down, and forthwith it began to pick up
strength. But in fact the species loves to fix itself on limestone when at
home in Santa Catarina, as does L. elegans.
It may be desirable to point out that the difference between Cattleyas and
Laelias as genera is purely 'botanical'--serious enough in that point of
view, but imperceptible to the eye.
A special glory of Woodlands is the collection of L. elegans. In this
house, where only the large plants are stored, we count five hundred;
seven hundred more are scattered up and down. Nowhere in the world can be
seen so many examples of this exquisite variety--certainly not in its
birthplace, for there it is very nearly exterminated. In such a multitude,
rare developments of form and colour must needs abound, for no orchid is
so variable. In fact, elegans is merely a title of convenience, with no
scientific value. It dwells--soon we must say it dwelt--in the closest
association with Laelia purpurata, Cattleya intermedia, and Cattleya
guttata Leopoldii; by the intermingling of these three it was assuredly
created. Mr. Rolfe has satisfied himself that the strain of Laelia
purpurata is always present. By alliance with Catt. Leopoldii the dark
forms were produced; by alliance with Catt. intermedia the white. Since
that misty era, of course, cross-fertilisation has continued without
ceasing, and the combinations are endless.
Evidently this suggestion is reasonable, but if an unscientific person may
venture to say so, it does not appear to be sufficient. Among six flowers
of L. elegans five will have sepals and petals more or less rosy, perhaps
only a shade, perhaps a tint so deep that it approaches crimson, like
Blenheimensis or Turneri. Could one of the three parents named supply this
colour? Two of them, indeed, are often rosy; in some rare instances the
hue of L. purpurata may be classed as deep rose. But these are such
notable exceptions that they would rather suggest a fourth parent, a red
Cattleya or Laelia, which has affected not elegans alone but purpurata and
intermedia also. Nothing of the sort exists now, I believe, in the island
of Santa Catarina. But we are contemplating aeons of time, and changes
innumerable may have occurred. The mainland is but a few miles away; once
Santa Catarina was attached to it. And there, a short distance to the
north, lives Laelia pumila, which might supply the rosy tinge.
Several artificial hybrids of Catt. guttata Leopoldii have been raised. By
alliance with Catt. Dowiana it produces Catt. Chamberlainiana; with Catt.
superba, Feuillata; with Catt. Hardyana, Fowlerii; with Catt. Loddigesii,
Gandii; with Catt. Mendelii, Harrisii; with Laelio-Cattleya Marion, C. H.
Harrington; with Catt. quadricolor, Mitchelii; with Catt. Warcewiczii,
Atalanta. Catt. Victoria Regina also is assumed to be a natural hybrid of
Leopoldii with Catt. labiata. There may be other crosses probably, since
no official record of Hybridisation exists as yet. Curiously enough,
however, no one seems to have mated Cattleya Leopoldii with Lælia
purpurata so far as I can learn. Thus it is not yet proved that L. elegans
sprang from that alliance.
But the hybridisers have an opening here not less profitable than
interesting. For the natural supply is exhausted--if any stickler for
accuracy object that some still arrive every year, they may overhaul their
Boswell and make a note. Sir, said his hero, if I declare that there is no
fruit in an orchard, I am not to be charged with speaking falsely because
a man, examining every tree, finds two apples and three pears--I have not
the book at hand to quote the very words. When L. elegans was discovered,
in 1847, it must have been plentiful in its native home beyond all other
species on record. The first collectors so described it. But that home was
a very small island, where it clung to the rocks. Every plant within reach
has long since been cleared away; those remaining dwell in perilous places
on the cliffs. To gather them a man must be let down from above, or he
must risk his life in climbing from below. But under these conditions the
process of extermination still proceeds, and in a time to be counted by
months it will be complete.
In describing a few of the most precious varieties at Woodlands, I may
group them in a manner to display by contrast the striking diversities
which an orchid may assume while retaining the essential points that
distinguish it from others. One form, however, I must mention here, for it
is too common to be classed among peculiarities, yet to my mind its
colouring is the softest and most dainty of all. Petal and sepal are
'stone-colour,' warmed, one cannot say even tinged, with crimson. Nature
has no hue more delicate or sweeter.
_Adonis._--Bright rosy petals--sepals paler--lip and edges of lobes
carmine.
_F. Sander._--The latest pseudo-bulb measures 2 feet 3 inches--topping the
best growth of its native forest by six inches; from base to top of the
spike, 4 feet less 1 inch, and as thick as a walking-cane. This grand
plant has been in cultivation for three years. The sepals and petals are
those of L. e. Turneri; the lip resembles a fine L. purpurata.
The plant next to this, unnamed, has pseudo-bulbs almost as long, but
scarcely thicker than straws.
_Empress._--A very dark form of Turneri.
_Medusa._--Tall, slender pseudo-bulbs--very dark.
_Neptune_, on the contrary, has pseudo-bulbs short and fat, whilst the
colouring is pale.
_H. E. Moojen._--Doubtless a natural hybrid with L. purpurata, which takes
equally after both parents.
_Godseffiana._--Nearly white; the broad lip carmine--lobes of the same
hue, widely expanded.
_Mrs. F. Sander._--A round flower, very dark rose; sepals and petals
dotted all over, as in Cattleya Leopoldii.
_Red King._--Yellowish throat. Lip good colour and round, but narrow,
without the prolongation of some or the lateral extension of others.
Curiously like the shape of L. Perrinii.
_Stella._--Dusky rose and similarly spotted, but different in
shape--sepals and petals much thinner.
_Boadicea._--Sepals and petals deep rose. Long shovel lip crimson-lake.
_H. G. Gifkins._--The sepals are palest green, with a rosy tinge; petals
pale mauve. The lip, maroon-crimson, spreads out broadly from a neck
almost half an inch long, and its deep colour stretches right up the
throat.
_Mrs. R. H. Measures._--Pure white, even the lip, except a touch of
purple-crimson in the centre and slender crimson veins.
_L.-C. Harold Measures._--A fine hybrid of L.e. Blenheimensis and Catt.
superba splendens, which takes mostly after the former in colouring, the
latter in shape. It is a round flower, with a crimson lip immensely broad;
two small yellow spots are half concealed beneath the tube. Sepals
greenish tawny, petals dull pink with crimson lines.
_Sade Lloyd._--A very pretty form. Sepals and petals rosy, tinted with
fawn colour. The crimson lip is edged with a delicate white line, as are
the lobes, which fold completely over the tube.
_Doctor Ryan_ is distinguished by a very long protruding lip.
_Ophelia._--As big and as round as Catt. Mossiae. Tube very thick and
wide.
_Macfarlanei._--We have two so named. In this grand example the
pseudo-bulbs are more than 2 feet high, proportionately thick. Eight or
nine flowers on the spike. Sepals and petals glaucous green. Long lip of
brightest crimson.
_Leucotata._--Sepals and petals white with rosy tips--lip white, saving
rosy lines and a rosy stain.
_Nyleptha._--Sepals and petals fawn colour, edged with rose. Very wide lip
of deepest crimson.
_Haematochila._--Sepals stone-colour flushed with pink, petals dusky pink.
Lip carmine-purple, rather narrow, shaped like a highly ornamental spade.
_Paraleuka._--All snowy white save the carmine lip, the form of which is
curiously neat and trim.
_Tenebrosa._--In this specially dark variety the tube is long, closely
folded, rose-white, with lines of crimson proceeding from the back. As
they meet at the lower edge they form a border as deep in hue as the lip.
But our darkest elegans, eighteen years in the collection, has not bloomed
for six seasons past.
_Schilleriana splendens._--Sepals and petals white, with a faintest rosy
tinge and a yellow stain on the midrib. Lip long, straight, forked at the
tip, liveliest crimson-purple.
_Stelzneriana._--Rosy-white. The crimson of the lip does not spread all
over but lies in a triangular blotch.
_Measuresiana._--Sepals greenish-yellow, the leaf-like petals similar,
pink towards the edges, lined with rose. Both spotted at the tip with
crimson. The lip is that of Catt. bicolor, short comparatively, straight,
and darkest crimson.
_Ladymead._--The white sepals and petals have a palest tinge of rose. On
the lip are two broad yellow eyes after the fashion of Catt. gigas.
_Venus._--Almost white. Petals veined, sepals dotted, with crimson--the
underside of both heavily stained. Lip almost fawn-colour at the edges,
with veins widening and deepening into crimson at the throat.
_Luculenta._--A very pretty hybrid of Messrs. Sander's raising, palest
mauve. Lip rather narrow but grand in colour. Shovel-shaped.
_Frederico._--A very odd variety--small. The stone-coloured sepals are
outlined with rose, the petals with purplish pink. Both are speckled with
brown. Lip brightest maroon-crimson, prettily scalloped.
_Platychila._--Pale purple. Remarkable for its immense crimson lip.
_Luciana._--Green petals, curling strongly towards the tip; petals
widening from the stalk like a leaf, pink with a green midrib. The lobes
white, narrow, square, and deepest crimson, the lip that of Catt. bicolor.
_Monica._--Snow-white. Petals broad, sepals strongly depressed. In the
middle of the spreading crimson lip is a patch almost white.
_Tautziana._--Sepals mauve, petals violet, somewhat darker, lip almost
maroon. It is singular in shape also, forked like a bird's tail.
_Blenheimensis._--Sepals and petals rose with a violet tinge; very broad
labellum with a distinct neck, emerging from a short tawny tube--carmine
in the throat, purplish at the edges.
_Macroloba._--The lobes here are white and enormous. Enormous also is the
lip, and singularly beautiful, deepest crimson at the throat, with a broad
purple margin netted over with crimson lines.
_Juno._--This also has a very large white tube. Sepals and petals rosy,
rather slender, fine crimson lip.
_Matuta._--Large, broad and shapely. Sepals greenish, with a pink tinge,
petals rosy-tawny. Tube very short, lip brightest crimson, standing out
clear as a flag.
_Minerva._--One of the most spreading, but thin. Colour rose, the petals
darker. Narrow sepals. Tube white. Lip carmine.
_Princess Stephanie._--Sepals bright green, petals slightly green, edged
with pale purple, and crimson lines. Bright lip after the model of Catt.
bicolor.
_Amphion._--A dark variety. The long lip has two eyes like Catt. gigas.
_Beatrice._--A hybrid of L.e. Schilleriana and L. purpurata, remarkable
for its lip, long and shovel-shaped, nearly the same breadth throughout.
_Morreniana._--Sepals dullish red purple--the lower strongly bowed, as are
the wide petals of similar hue. The lip spreads on either side of the
white tube like the wings of a purple-crimson butterfly.
_Mrs. Mahler._--A hybrid--Catt. Leop. × Catt. bicolor. Very small but
very pretty. Sepals palest green, petals almost white, tinged with pink at
the edges. The shovel-shaped lip pinkish crimson.
_Euracheilas._--Sepals dusky stone-colour, edged with pink, petals all
dusky pink. Very large but narrow. The maroon-crimson lip extends at right
angles from the tube, without any neck.
_Schilleriana._--The variety most clearly allied to L. purpurata. White or
palest rose of sepal and petal, the latter marked with purplish lines at
the base. Lip a grand purple-crimson, fading sharply towards the edges.
_Weathersiana._--Sepals palest tawny suffused with rose, petals mauve. The
broad lip of fine colour is so strongly indented that it resembles the
bipennis of the Amazons.
_Euspatha._--Reichenbach suggested that this is a hybrid of L. Boothiana
or L. purpurata with some Cattleya--probably intermedia. It is white, with
broad, sepals and petals. The tube is open nearly all its length, and the
wide lip of crimson, fading to purplish edges, shows scarcely an
indentation.
_Hallii._--Crimson-purple sepals--petals darker; the lip approaches
maroon.
_Oweniae._--In this case the sepals and petals--which are
leaf-shaped--stand out boldly, straight on end--rosy with mauve shading,
more pronounced in the latter; lip round, of a charming carmine.
_Incantans._--A very large and stately bloom. Sepals of the tender warm
stone so often mentioned, petals broad and waved, of the same colour down
the middle, flushing to rosy purple on each side. A fine crimson-velvet
lip.
_Melanochites_ is a very symmetrical flower, though not 'compact,' as the
phrase goes. All lively rose-lake, the petals a darker tone. The grand
broad lip of purple crimson has a pretty yellow blotch on either side
beneath the tube. It is sharply forked.
_Pyramus._--Sepals of the flushed stone-colour which I, at least, admire
so much; but the flush is more conspicuous than usual. Petals clear rose.
Lip vivid crimson, with the same yellow blotches under the white tube.
_Bella._--The purplish crimson sepals and petals are tipped with buff. Lip
shovel-shaped, dark crimson.
_Sappho._--Here the pale purple sepals only are tipped with buff, while
the petals, which curl over, are rose. The carmine of the lip is very
pretty.
_Macfarlanei II._--Sepals of the same colour, but greenish, strongly
marked with the distinctive spots of Catt. Leopoldii, edged with rose;
petals rose, lined with crimson on either side of the white midrib. The
long tube opening shows a strongly yellow throat. The labellum is short,
but superb in colour.
_Myersiana._--A large form. Sepals dusky, tinged with crimson at the
edges. Petals softly crimson. Very long tube. The crimson lip has a pale
margin, and a pale blotch in the front.
_Cleopatra._--One of the very best. Like that above in petal and sepal,
but paler. The broad tube, however, is snow-white, saving a touch of
magenta-crimson, bright as a ruby, at the tip of the lobes. And the lip,
finely frilled, is all magenta-crimson, with not a mark upon it from
throat to edge.
_Wolstenholmae._--White, the sepals tinted with purple. Petals broad, with
a purple outline. Lip narrow and long, of a colour unique, which may be
described as crimson-purple. In the throat are two curious white bars;
between them run arching purple lines close set, which, on the outer side
of the bars, extend to the edge of the lip. A very remarkable flower.
_Eximia._--Also very remarkable--not to say uncanny. The narrow sepals and
petals, almost white, have a mottling of rosy mauve along the edges,
which looks unwholesome, as if caused by disease. But the long
paddle-shaped lip, crimson, changing to purple as it expands, is very
fine. It has two pale yellow 'eyes' elongated in an extraordinary manner.
_Lord Roberts._--Very handsome and peculiar. The colour of the sepals,
strongly folded back, is warm grey, tinged and faintly lined with crimson;
this tinge is much more pronounced in the petals. The large tubular lip,
finely opened, is uniform crimson-magenta, not so dark as usual.
[Illustration: LÆLIO-CATTLEYA × ELEGANS VAR. CYANTHUS.]
A LEGEND OF ROEZL
So soon as I began to take interest in orchids I was struck with the
number of odd facts and incidents in that field of botany. One gains but a
glimpse of them, as a rule, in some record of travel or some scientific
treatise; and at an early date it occurred to me that if the stories to
which these fragments belong could be recovered, they would prove to be
not only curious and interesting but amusing--sometimes terrible. I began
to collect, therefore, and in the pages following I offer some of the
results.
It is right to begin with a legend of Roezl, if only because his name will
often recur; but also he was incomparably the greatest of those able and
energetic men who have roamed the savage world in search of new plants for
our study and enjoyment. Almost any other mortal who had gone through
adventures and experiences such as his in our time would have made a book
and a sensation; but the great collector never published anything, I
believe, beyond a statement of scientific facts from time to time. This is
not the place to deal with his career; I am only telling stories. But it
is not to be dismissed without a word.
Roezl will be gratefully remembered so long as science and horticulture
survive the triumph of democracy. I have heard it alleged that he
discovered eight hundred new species of plant or tree. It is credible. In
the memoir published by the _Gardeners' Chronicle_, which was brief of
necessity, fourscore were enumerated, with the addition, here, of 'many
others,' there, of 'etc.' Roezl was no specialist. A wise regard for his
own interest confined him almost to orchids in the later years. But in his
catalogue of achievements I find new lilies, new conifers, fuchsias,
agaves, cacti, begonias, saxifrage, dahlias, convolvuli, tropaeolums,
tacsonias--a multitude, in fact, beyond reckoning. In one expedition he
sent eight tons of orchids to Europe; in another ten tons of cacti,
agaves, dion, and orchids! The record of his travels is startling; and it
must be observed that Roezl's first aim always was to escape from the
beaten track. His journeyings were explorations. Many an Indian tribe
never saw a white man before, and some, perhaps, have never seen one
since. Mexico was his first hunting-ground, and thither he returned more
than once; Cuba the second. Thence he was drawn to the Rocky Mountains,
California, and Sierra Nevada. Then in succession he visited Panama, New
Granada, Sierra Nevada again, California again, Washington Territory,
Panama again, Bonaventura, the Cauca valley, Antioquia, Northern Peru,
crossed the Andes, returned to Bonaventura, and thence to Europe. Starting
again he searched Colorado Territory, New Mexico, California, the Sierra
Madre; worked his way to Caracas, thence through Venezuela, crossed to
Cuba, to Vera Cruz, explored the state of Oajaca in Mexico, sailed to
Lima, crossed the Andes again to Tarma and Changamaga, back into Southern
Peru, wandered as far as the Lake of Titicaca, searched Bolivia, traversed
the Snowy Mountains to Yungas, back to Lima and Arica, crossed the Andes a
third time, visited Ecuador, and made his way back to the valley of the
Cauca. How many thousand miles of journeying this chronicle represents is
a problem for laborious youth. And the botanist uses roads, railways, and
horses only to get him from one scene of operations to another. He works
afoot.
It is good to know that Roezl had his reward. Eighteen years ago he died,
full of years and honours, in his native Bohemia. And the Kaiser himself
was represented by a high dignitary at the unveiling of his statue in
Prague.
The experiences I am about to tell were made in the course of that long
march through the woods from La Guayra in Venezuela to Ocaña in New
Granada. Among the special trophies of it was Cattleya Roezlii, a variety
of Cattleya speciosissima; but I am not aware that the secluded tribe
whose habits interested Roezl so much had any immediate connection with
this plant. Perhaps before going further it may be well to note that any
assertion of the great Collector might be admitted not only as an honest
report, but also as a fact which he had verified, so far as was possible.
Dr. Johnson was not more careful to speak the whole truth and nothing but
the truth.
It was somewhere round the sources of the Amazons that Roezl sojourned for
a while in a village of those strange people whom the Spaniards call
Pintados--'painted' Indians. Their colour, in fact, is piebald--light
brown, dark brown, and a livid tint commonly described as red, in
blotches. They are seen occasionally in Guiana, more rarely in Venezuela
and Brazil. The colouring is ascribed to disease, rather because it is so
hideous and abnormal, perhaps, than for a solid reason. Roezl thought it
'natural.'
He was making his way through those endless forests by compass, with two
mestizos from Columbia who had served him on a former journey, and a negro
boy. For guides and carriers he depended on the Indians, who passed him
from settlement to settlement. It is fitting to observe here that Roezl
never carried firearms of any sort at any time--so he used to say. Of
great stature and prodigious muscle, utterly fearless, never unprepared,
happen what might, he passed forty years in such wandering as I have
outlined, and never had occasion to strike a blow. Several times he found
himself between contending factions, the armed mobs of Spanish America,
and lost everything; many times was he robbed, but never, I believe,
assaulted. Nerve and humour protected him. As for the wild Indians, I
fancy that they were overawed by his imposing appearance; and especially
by an iron hook which occupied the place of his left hand, smashed by an
accident.
This system of travelling at leisure from settlement to settlement enabled
him to pick up a few necessary words of each language, and to give warning
of his approach to the next tribe. The Pintados welcomed him in a quiet
fashion--that is, the chiefs did not object when he repaired an empty hut
and took possession. It was at the end of a long 'street,' parallel to the
river. The rude dwellings were not scattered. Each stood opposite to its
fellow across the way, and Roezl noticed a large flat stone in the middle
between every pair. Towards nightfall the Indians trooped back from their
fields; but all the women and grown girls entered at one end of the
village, the men at the other. This was curious. As they marched up, the
former dispersed in huts to the right hand, the latter to the left, each
sex keeping to its own side of the stones. After depositing their tools
the men came out and gathered silently around the strangers'
quarters--only very young children ran to and fro. After a time the women
reappeared with steaming calabashes, which they bore half across the road,
and set, each of them, on the stone before her dwelling. Then they
returned. Forthwith the males strolled back, carried the supper to their
respective huts, and in due time replaced the empty calabash upon the
stone, whence the women removed it.
It will be understood that these strange ceremonies interested Roezl.
Evidently the husbands lived on one side of the street, the wives and
young children on the other. The moon was full and he watched for hours.
After supper the males returned to squat and smoke around his hut,
scarcely speaking; but one after another they withdrew presently, each to
his own abode. So long as the moonlight enabled Roezl to observe, not one
crossed the way. And afterwards he discovered that this is an eternal
rule--a husband never enters his wife's dwelling. The separation of the
sexes is complete.
Long before satisfying himself on this point Roezl saw enough to convince
him that the usages of this secluded people must be well worth study. He
remained among them as long as he could, and even made memoranda--the
first and only time, I believe, that he kept records other than botanical
or scientific. It may be hoped that they survive and will come to light,
since his papers are now stored in the museum at Prague. I am dependent on
the memory of those whom he amused with curt stories of adventure over
pipe and glass on his visits to England. They are many, and they preserve
the liveliest remembrance of one to whom Johnson's remarks on the greatest
of modern orators are peculiarly applicable. 'If a man were to go by
chance at the same time with Burke under a shed to escape a shower, he
would say, "This is an extraordinary man."' Unfortunately, it is the most
striking observations alone which they recall, with but a vague impression
of others.
Every hearer asked, of course, how the race could avoid extinction under
such circumstances? But it appears that the separation is only public--an
exaggerated prudery, one might describe it, though we may be sure that the
sentiment lies infinitely deeper. The sexes work apart, as has been said;
after the men have cleared a piece of ground they leave it to the women,
and clear another for themselves. But when a youth has a mind to marry, in
the first place he builds a hut in the forest. Then he awaits the train of
women returning, steps gently among them, and takes the maiden of his
fancy by the hand. She throws him off at once if disinclined, and there is
an end of it; otherwise she suffers him to lead her a step before freeing
herself. Day after day in that case the invitation is repeated, and the
maiden takes two steps, then three, until at length she quits the
procession entirely and surrenders. There is no ceremony of marriage, but,
so far as Roezl could gather, the bond is absolutely sacred; in fact, if
we think of it, those conditions of life forbid intrigue. It should be
added that the other women and girls studiously ignore these proceedings,
and that till the last moment a damsel may change her mind, repulsing the
lover favoured hitherto.
A bride remains in the woodland hut for several weeks, not a soul visiting
her except the husband. Meantime he builds a 'town house' for himself, and
the mother or female relatives build one opposite for his wife. In fixing
the stone between them there is a ceremony, as Roezl gathered, but the
nature of it he was unable to understand. Though the pair never meet again
in public as long as they live, they spend as much time as they please
together in the forest. And really, after due consideration, I cannot but
think that the system shows remarkable sagacity. Truth compels me to add,
however, that Roezl suspected infanticide. We may hope he was mistaken.
Why should a people living as do these restrict the number of their
children? The battle for existence is not desperate with them apparently,
since they till the soil, and their territory, in effect, is boundless. No
Indian race of South America feels the pride of caste; if these do, they
are a notable exception in that as in other respects. Girls receive no
dower; the expense of marriage, as has been seen, is _nil_. Why should
they limit the family? We know that obvious reason does not always guide
the savage in his habits. But when a painful fact is not assured we may
allow ourselves the comfort of doubting it.
This is all I have been able to collect about a most extraordinary people.
My informants do not recollect, if they heard, whether the separation of
the sexes was peculiar to this clan or general among the Pintado Indians.
In fact, I have nothing more to say about them.
It was here, however, that Roezl met with an adventure which he often
told. His hut, as has been mentioned, was the last of the row--a ruin
patched up to keep the baggage dry. He always carried a folding tressle
and a light board to fix upon it, which made a sort of desk, with a
camp-stool to match. One evening he set himself as usual to write labels
and memoranda for his herbarium. The description of a curious plant
secured that day proved difficult, and darkness had long set in. So
absorbed was the enthusiast in dissecting its anatomy that he gave no
attention to a loud purr, though conscious of the sound for some moments.
At length he raised his eyes. By the open doorway stood a creature whose
dusky fur glistened like silk in the lamplight, and great yellow eyes
stared into his. It was a black jaguar, rarest and most savage of all
felines.
So they remained, staring. Roezl felt his hour had come. He could not have
moved a limb; his hair rose and the sweat poured down. The jaguar also
kept still, purring louder and louder. Its velvet lips were slightly
raised, showing a gleam of the huge fangs. Presently it drew nearer, still
purring--came up to the tressle--arched his back like a cat, and pressed
against it. Crash fell desk, lamp, specimen box, camp-stool and
enthusiast--a clattering overthrow! The servants rushed in. No jaguar was
there.
Roezl used to attribute his escape to the practice of never carrying arms.
When the brute was approaching, he must have fired had a weapon been
handy--no man could resist the impulse. And then, whatever the issue of
the shot, he would certainly have died.
[Illustration: LÆLIO-CATTLEYA, × ELEGANS VAR. MACFARLANEI.]
THE CATTLEYA HOUSE
With L. elegans are lodged fine examples of Cattleyas gigas and aurea,
with some of their varieties; generated, as we may assume, by natural
hybridisation. These rank among the supreme treasures of the orchidist,
unequalled for size and rarity--perhaps for beauty. To those who have not
seen the offspring it might seem impossible that the stately loveliness of
the parents could be excelled. But by a very simple process Nature
achieves the feat--she combines their charms.
Of Cattleya gigas we have some two hundred specimens. It is the largest of
the genus, saving its own hybrids, a native of New Granada, discovered by
Warcewicz in 1848. He sent no plants home, and though a few were
despatched afterwards, Roezl practically introduced the species in 1870.
Conscious of supreme merit, it is far from eager to bloom; but at
Woodlands we do not personally feel this drawback.
Of course there are many varieties of Cattleya gigas, for it is truly said
that two blooms of orchid exactly alike cannot be found. But I shall
mention only two.
_Imschootiana_ is huge even above its fellows, for a flower may be nine
inches across; the colour of sepal and petal mauve, with a crimson-purple
lip of splendour beyond conception. The golden throat under a
crimson-purple tube is lined with bright crimson; the characteristic
'eyes' gamboge, fading to white.
_Sanderae._--Some may well think this the loveliest of all its lovely kin.
Probably it is a foreign strain, though remote, which gives such supreme
softness to the magenta of the lip. On that ground the golden 'eyes' shine
forth with an abruptness positively startling. The broad sepals and petals
are sweetest rosy-mauve. Even the tube is deep crimson.
Here also is Cattleya bicolor Measuresiana, an exquisite example of a
species always charming to my taste. In this instance the sepals and
petals are purest and smoothest olive green; the very long shovel-shaped
labellum magenta-crimson, outlined and tipped with white.
Of Cattleya aurea again the varieties are many. It was brought from
Antioquia, New Granada, by Wallis, in 1868. If crimson and yellow,
tastefully disposed, make the most gorgeous combination possible, as all
human beings agree, this and its sister Dowiana are the most gorgeous of
flowers. The ordinary form of Cattleya aurea is nankin yellow, but in the
variety _R. H. Measures_, sepal and petal are gamboge. The glorious lip,
opening wide from the very base, has long brownish blurs descending from
the throat, on a golden ground which fades to yellow towards the edge.
There are two clear crimson patches in the front, and the margin is clear
crimson, whilst the whole expanse is covered with fine stripes of crimson
and gold alternately.
We come to the hybrids of these two which, dwelling side by side, have
been intermarrying for ages; and their offspring again have intermarried,
forming endless combinations. Cattleya Sanderiana was first discovered
under circumstances rather odd. One of Messrs. Sander's collectors, Mr.
Mau, was hunting for Odontoglossum crispum by Bogota. He came upon a
number of Cattleyas--none of them in bloom--and gathered any that came in
his way, taking no trouble, nor even mentioning the incident in his
letters. In due course he brought them to St. Albans along with his
Odontoglossums. Mr. Mau said nothing even while the cases were being
unpacked. Apparently he had forgotten them.
'What are these Cattleyas?' asked Mr. Sander, in surprise.
'Oh, I don't know! I found them in the woods.'
Old spikes still remained upon the plants, and bunches of withered rags at
the end. Mr. Sander perceived, first, that the flower must be gigantic
beyond belief; next, that it was red.
'Go back by next mail!' he cried. 'Search the woods--gather every one!'
And Mr. Mau did actually return by next mail.
This was Cattleya Sanderiana--sometimes as much as eleven inches across;
in colour, a tender rosy-mauve. The vast lip is almost square, with a
throat of gold, lined and netted over with bright crimson. It has the
charming 'eyes' of gigas in perfection, and the enormous disc, superbly
frilled, is of the liveliest magenta crimson.
_Chrysotoxa_, another of these wondrous hybrids, 'favours' its aurea
parent; with buff-yellow petals and sepals, the lower of which hang in a
graceful bunch surrounding the huge lip of dark orange ground, with an
edging of maroon-crimson, narrow above, widening to a stately breadth
below; the whole closely covered with branching lines of crimson.
_Mrs. Fred Hardy_ is a third--divinely beautiful. White of sepal and
petal, with the vast magenta-crimson lip of Hardyana. The glorious effect
may be in part imagined.
We have yet a fourth of this amazing group--Trismegistris--most nearly
allied to Sanderiana. I have not seen this variety in bloom; it was
introduced only three years ago. But the name signifies that it is the
quintessence of all. Individual taste may not always allow that claim,
but no one disputes that it is at least equal to the finest.
But the thoughtful cannot contemplate these wondrous things with
satisfaction unalloyed. Unless some wealthy and intelligent persons in
South America undertake to cultivate them in a regular way, it is too
probable that in a generation or two they will be utterly lost; for we
cannot hope that the specimens in Europe will endure so long, however
vigorous they may be at present. Here is the letter which accompanied the
last consignment--sad reading, as I think:--
MEDELLIN, _January 27, 1896_.
Messrs. F. SANDER and Co.,
St. Albans.
GENTLEMEN--I arrived here yesterday from Alba Gumara and received
your much honoured letter of November 11, 1895. I shall despatch
to-morrow thirty boxes, twelve of which contain the finest of all the
aureas, the Monte Coromee form, and eighteen cases contain the grand
Sanderiana type, all collected from the spot where these grow mixed,
and I shall clear them all out. They are now nearly extinguished in
this spot, and this will surely be the last season. I have finished
all along the Rio Dagua, where there are no plants left; the last
days I remained in that spot the people brought in two or three
plants a day and some came back without a single plant. I left my boy
with the Señor Altados to explore while I despatched the boxes and
get funds, when I shall return for the var. papilio which Altados
promised to secure for me, and go on up to the spot called the Parama
San Sausa. In the boxes containing the aureas you will find about 300
seedlings which have not flowered; these are from a grove of trees
where no plants have previously been gathered from, and where the
finest Sanderianas and aureas grow intermingled in one family. These
Cattleyas only flower once in a year--that is, from March to the end
of July, and both kinds together. Some of the flowers measure upwards
of 10 inches--and on a spike you can have nine flowers. I cannot wait
in that fearful region longer than the flowering time; the awfully
wild aspect of everything and scarcity of wholesome food and help
for the work is simply maddening. If I shall find the other orchids
you want I do not know. My boy is gone with Altados for the Oncidium.
You may believe me that many more of these fine Cattleyas do not
exist, and I can, after all, perhaps not find so good as may be in
those you will now receive.
In the last years I have seen these plants in bloom, when I was so
ill with fever, and in no other place can you get such a fine type.
The plants that I planted when I was taken ill no one found; no one
has been here, and the plants had grown well and some of them very
much rooted.
Trusting that all will arrive in good order, I remain, gentlemen,
your very obedient servant,
CARL JOHANNSEN.
CATTLEYA MENDELII
The next division is styled the Mendelii house; more than three hundred
large examples of this species--to be accurate and pedantic, it should be
called a variety--occupy the centre, a hundred and eighty the stand to
right.
Cattleya Mendelii lives in the neighbourhood of Ocaña, New Granada, at an
altitude of 3500 feet. It was introduced by Messrs. Backhouse in 1870, and
named in honour of Mr. Sam Mendel, a great personage at Manchester in his
day. Distinctions of colour are very frequent. Some pronounce it the
loveliest of Cattleyas.
Among the noble specimens here, many of them chosen for individual
peculiarities, not half a dozen are named; the rest bear only letters
showing their class, and certain marks understood by the initiated. It
will be a relief when this system, or something like it, becomes general.
And the time is not distant; at least, the privilege of granting new names
at will must be restricted among those who obey the authorities.
The few plants here which enjoy a special designation are:--
_Monica Measures._--Petals rose, with a broad streak of purple down the
centre from base to point. Sepals also rose, tipped with purple. Lip of
darkest crimson, fringed.
_Lily Measures._--A very large flower, white of sepal and petal. On the
lip, somewhat pale, as if to show it off, is a splash of purple-crimson,
sharply defined.
_R. H. Measures._--Sepals and petals tinted with rose. Enormous lip, very
dark crimson, fringed.
_William Lloyd._--For this I can only repeat the last description, yet the
eye perceives a difference not inconsiderable.
_Mrs. R. H. Measures._--All white saving the yellow throat and two small
touches of purple in the front.
_Duke of Marlborough._--This variety moved the great Reichenbach, as he
said, to 'religious admiration.' No doubt it is the grandest of all
Mendeliis--which is much to say; very large, perfectly graceful in form,
exquisitely frilled. The colour of sepal and petal pink, the throat
yellow, the spreading disc magenta-crimson.
The left side of the house is filled with large plants--some two
hundred--of Cattleya Schroderae, which the learned recognise as a variety
of Cattleya Trianae. It has the great advantage, however, of flowering in
April, and thus, when discovered in 1884 by Arnold, collecting for Messrs.
Sander, it filled a gap in the succession of Cattleyas. Henceforward the
careful amateur might have one variety at least in bloom the year round.
Named of course after Baroness Schröder. All Cattleyas are scented more or
less at certain times of the day, but none so strongly as this, nor so
persistently.
It does not vary so much as most of its kin, but it shows perhaps a
greater tendency to albinism than any--as seems natural when its colours
are so much paler. Among these grand plants we have three white, notably--
_Miss Mary Measures_, of which the picture is given.
Overhead hang smaller plants of Cattleya Mossiae, Trianae, Mendelii, and
Laelia Lucasiana; among them no less than five Cattleya speciosissima
alba.
Speciosissima Dawsonii is here also, finest of the coloured
varieties--purplish rose of sepal and petal, lip large, yellow in the
upper part, rosy crimson below, with margin finely fringed; and
Laelia pumila marginata.--In its ordinary form L. pumila is one of the
loveliest flowers that blow, and admiration is enhanced by surprise when
we observe how small and slender is the plant that bears such a handsome
bloom. But this rare variety is lovelier still--its broad, rosy-crimson
sepals and petals and its superb crimson lip all outlined with white.
CATTLEYA BOWRINGIANA
The third division of the Cattleya house contains, in the centre, some
hundreds of Mendeliis; Cattleya Bowringiana on the right hand, Cattleyas
Mossiae and Wageneri on the left; all 'specimen' plants, for health and
vigour as for size.
Cattleya Bowringiana was imported fifteen years ago from British Honduras,
but it has since been found in other parts of Central America. In
colour--rosy purple, with deep purple lip, white in the throat--it does
not vary much, nor in shape; at least I have not heard of any named
varieties. But Cattleya Bowringiana in good health is always a cheering
spectacle; its young growths push with such a demonstration of
sturdiness--having to rise much beyond the ordinary stature--and its bunch
of eight or ten flowers stands so high above the foliage. Nowhere may that
pleasant spectacle be enjoyed with more satisfaction than at Woodlands.
CATTLEYA MOSSIAE
Since Cattleya Mossiae was introduced more than two generations ago, and
remains perhaps the commonest of the species, I need not describe it. Mrs.
Moss of Ottersfoot, by Liverpool, conferred the name in 1856. Love of
orchids is a heritage in that family--so is the love of rowing. The lady's
grandson, Sir J. Edwardes Moss, now living, was Stroke of the O.U.B.C. and
at Eton, as were his father and his uncle. And the ancestral collection of
orchids is still maintained.
White Mossiaes are not uncommon, though their exquisite beauty makes them
precious in all meanings of the term.
_Mrs. R. H. Measures_ is best of all--a famous variety--white of sepal and
petal. Deep and graceful frilling on the lip is always characteristic of
this species; it reaches absolute perfection here. The yellow of the
throat is much subdued, but purple lines issuing from it spread over all
the white lip, with a very curious effect. Purple also is the frilling.
_Grandiflora._--Deep rose. Petals very broad, lip immense, finely mottled
and veined with purple.
_Excelsior._--Blush-rose. Lip rosy purple, with a white margin.
_Gilbert Measures._--A superb variety. White with a faint flush. Sepals
and petals unusually solid. Lip very widespread, with purple lines and
splashes of magenta-purple.
_Gigantea._--Biggest of all. Rosy pink. The orange of the enormous lip and
the frilling specially fine.
Catt. Wageneri, though granted a specific title, is a variety of Cattleya
Mossiae, from Caracas, discovered by Wagener in 1851; white, excepting a
yellow blotch on the lip.
From the roof, among a hundred smaller plants of Cattleya, hangs a
specimen of Laelia praestans alba, as rare as lovely--all purest white,
except the lip of brilliant purple with yellow throat. Like many other
orchids from the high lands of Brazil, this will grow equally well in the
cool house. It is, in truth, a variety of L. pumila; its normal colour
rosy purple.
CATTLEYA GASKELLIANA
The fourth compartment is given up to Cattleya Gaskelliana, a species from
Venezuela, not showy, as a rule--though striking exceptions can be found,
as here--but always useful. Like Cattleya Schroderae it filled a gap when
discovered in 1883, for there was no species at the time which flowered in
July. Its normal colour is mauve; the lip has a big yellow blotch and a
mottling of purple in the front.
About four hundred plants are accommodated in this house, among them four
albinos--one with eight pseudo-bulbs and two flowering growths. But the
finest flower is
_Miss Clara Measures._--snowy white, of course, but with a lip like
Cattleya Mossiae. Among others notable are:--
_Dellensis._--A noble variety. Mauve-pink--the petals immensely broad. The
great spreading lip has a gamboge throat fading to chrome-yellow,
intersected with lines of bright crimson. The crimson of the front is
defined as sharply as if by the stroke of a paint-brush.
_Godseffiana._--Pale rosy mauve. Petals immense. Lip a curious dusky
crimson, with a narrow dusky-yellowish outline.
_Duke of Marlborough._--Gigantic. Sepals and petals bright rose; the broad
lip has the same dusky outline.
_Measuresiana._--Very pale. The crimson of the lip, which is long but
comparatively narrow, runs far up the throat, but leaving two clear yellow
'eyes' as distinct as in Cattleya gigas.
_Sanderiana._--Pale. The lip, of excellent colour, spreads so suddenly as
to form a perfect circle.
_Herbertiana._--Mauve. A very compact flower. The bright yellow of the
throat extends downwards and to either side of the lip in a very
remarkable manner. The dusky margin surrounds a purple-crimson stain,
scored with lines of deeper hue.
_Woodlandsensis._--Here the same oddity--due to natural hybridisation
doubtless--is carried much further. The whole disc of the lip is buff,
with only the merest touch of purple on either side the central line, and
another, scarcely perceptible, at the tip.
Along the roof hang small plants of Cattleya gigas and others.
FIFTH DIVISION
The fifth division is a resting-place, where one may sit beneath a grand
specimen of Kentia Forsteri, surrounded by palms as in a nook of the
jungle, to compare notes and talk of orchids. After such refreshment we
enter the last compartment.
CATTLEYA TRIANAE
To left here are more Mendeliis, to right more Bowringianas, labiatas, and
Trianaes mixed; rows of labiata overhead. Specimen Trianaes occupy the
centre--some two hundred.
This again is a species so old and so familiar that I need not describe
it. But there is none more variable, and we have some of the most striking
diversities here.
_Macfarlanei._--An immense flower, white, with the faintest possible
flush. The great lip, vivid orange beneath the tube, changes to white
above the disc. To this succeeds a blaze of purple-crimson, outlined in
two semicircles as clear as brush could draw.
[Illustration: CATTLEYA TRIANÆ, VAR. MEASURESIÆ.]
_Robert Measures._--Lively mauve. The broad petals have three purple lines
at the base and a mottling of purple on either side. Lip not large but of
the grandest crimson, darker towards the throat.
_Measuresiana._--Petals clear mauve, sepals a paler hue, lip very compact.
Its carmine rises far up the throat, surrounding the yellow and white
'eyes' with the happiest effect.
_Woodlandsensis._--Sepals and petals lilac flushed. The great lip
beautifully striped with rosy magenta.
_Tyrianthina_ takes its name from the Tyrian purple or wine-coloured tips
of the petals--a singular development. The labellum shows the same tint,
even darker.
Here also I note Catt. Harrisoniae _R. H. Measures_. It cannot be said
that this differs from the normal type in any respect; but one may venture
to assert that it is the finest example thereof--at least, a finer could
not be. Upon the mauve sepals and petals, much larger than usual and more
lively in colour, the great labellum, primrose and gamboge, with mauve
tip, stands out superbly. There is no more striking Cattleya than
Harrisoniae in this form.
A STORY OF CATTELEYA BOWRINGIANA
No tale hangs upon the discovery of Cattleya Bowringiana, so far as I have
heard. A planter named Turkheim sent it from British Honduras to Mr.
Bowring of Forest Farm, Windsor, in 1884. The species has a wide range.
Mr. Oversluys came upon it in Guatemala very shortly afterwards, and
curious incidents followed.
This admirable collector was hunting for Oncidium splendidum, a stately
flower not very uncommon once, but long extinct in Europe. No man knew its
home, but Mr. Sander, after close inquiry and profound deliberation,
resolved that it must be a native of Costa Rica. Thither he despatched Mr.
Oversluys, who roamed the wilderness up and down five years, seeking a
prize within his grasp all the time, so conspicuous that it escaped
notice--as sharp boys select the biggest names upon a map instead of the
smallest, to puzzle a comrade. But that is another story.
Irritated and despairing as time went by, but not permitted to abandon the
search, the collector found diversion now and again in a gallop through
the neighbouring States. And once he pushed as far as Guatemala. All these
forays were profitable, of course; such a shrewd and experienced hunter
finds game in every forest. But Mr. Oversluys was not equipped for the
wholesale business, as one may put it, on these expeditions. They were
reconnaissances. In Guatemala, at the moment which interests us, he had
only two servants and three mules.
I do not know exactly where he came across Cattleya Bowringiana; it might
be anywhere almost, apparently, in the Central American Republics. The
species was rare and very precious at the time--to be secured, though in
the smallest quantity. When Oversluys came upon it, he threw away the
miscellaneous rarities he had collected, hired two more mules--all he
could obtain--loaded as many as they could carry of the very finest
plants, specimens such as we dare not dream of now, and started for the
nearest port, meaning to return for more so soon as he was 'shut of your
confounded Oncidium splendidum.' In such disrespectful terms he wrote to
St. Albans.
At the house where Oversluys slept one night was a boisterous young
Guatemalan, one of the tippling, guitar-strumming, all-round-love-making
sort so common in Spanish America. But this youth was an Indian or
almost--betrayed by his lank hair and narrow shining eyes. Such a
character would seem impossible for one of that blood beyond the confines
of Guatemala. But the supremacy of the Indians under Rafael Carrera's
despotism has worked a change there. It lasted long enough to train a
portentous generation. When a pig-driver of their race conquered and ruled
the descendants of the Conquerors as absolutely as a Turkish bashaw of
old, Indians might well abandon the timid subservience of their
forefathers.
This young fellow insisted upon playing cards with Oversluys, who
declined. Then he began to quarrel. But a good-looking daughter of the
landlord intervened, and he promptly struck the light guitar. After supper
he felt the warmest friendship for Oversluys, and dropped off to sleep
while babbling a serenade to the landlord's daughter.
The friendship had not evaporated next morning. Don Hilario--he allowed
himself the title and a most aristocratic surname--was returning to his
native village, through which Oversluys must pass; there to remain, as he
admitted cheerfully, until his friends at the capital had suppressed
certain proceedings at law. These friends, it appeared, were dames of high
position, and the proceedings related to a serious deficiency in his
accounts as clerk in the Financial Department. But it was all great fun.
Don Hilario could not think of his appearance in the dock without peals of
laughter. No apprehension marred his enjoyment. Those great personages
named, of the female sex, would take very good care he was not
prosecuted--or they had best look out. In short, we recognise the type of
a cynical half-caste Don Juan.
As they journeyed on together, Don Hilario noticed the orchids, which were
simply slung across the mules. He knew, of course, that such weeds are
valued in Europe; every child in those realms is familiar with collectors
nowadays. 'Ah!' said he, 'those are poor things compared with the great
bushes on the roof of our church.'
Oversluys was roused at once. Since Roezl made the discovery, fifteen
years before, every one had come to know that rarities may be expected on
an Indian church. The pious aborigines collect any orchid of exceptional
beauty which they notice in the woods and carefully replant it on the
sacred building. It was the custom of their heathen forefathers.
'Are there any white ones among them?' Oversluys asked. An albino form of
Cattleya Bowringiana had never been heard of, but he thought it might
exist. And if so the roof of an Indian church would be the place to look
for such a treasure.
'As many white as red! I say, what will you give for a dozen?'
This was a difficult question under any circumstances, since the plants
could hardly be flowering then; and there is no difference in growth
betwixt the white varieties and the red. Besides, Oversluys had not the
very slightest confidence in this youth.
'How will you get them?' he asked.
'Never mind that. Pay me half the money down and I'll bring the plants
to-morrow. You know, our Indians are suspicious of collectors. You mustn't
be seen in the village.'
That was reasonable enough in one point of view, but preposterous in the
other. 'Oh,' said Oversluys, 'I must see the orchids at any risk--that's
flat! and I must hear how you mean to work.'
'Why?'
'Because if you take them without the Padre's consent you know as well as
I that the Indians will be after me at daylight, and--h'm! There would be
work for the doctor! What sort of man is your Padre?'
'A sort of pig, of course,' laughed Don Hilario. 'A fat old boar, ready
for the knife. And my knife is ready, too! Patience, friend, patience!'
His eyes still laughed, but he made the significant gesture so common in
those lands--a sudden stealthy grip of the machete at his waist.
This was not an unimportant revelation. 'You are on bad terms with the
Cura?' Oversluys asked.
'Not now. He thinks I have forgotten. It's years ago. I was a boy. But the
Castilian never forgets! I will tell you.'
The story was not edifying. It related to a young woman in whom the Cura
felt interest. He surprised her in company with Don Hilario and beat the
lad.
'Well,' said Oversluys, 'I'm sorry you and the Padre are not friends,
because I will have nothing to do with removing orchids from the church
unless he bears part in it.'
'But the pig will want all the money.'
'You need not tell him how much I am to give you.'
Don Hilario argued, however, until, finding Oversluys immovable, he grew
sulky. The fact is that to strip their church against the Indians' wish
would be not a little perilous even though the Cura were implicated; to
ignore him would be madness. Collectors have risked it, they say, before
and since, but never assuredly unless quite certain that the prize was
worth a deadly hazard. In this instance there was no security at all.
As they approached the village Don Hilario brightened up. 'Well,' he said,
'what will you give me?'
Oversluys had no money, but he offered a sum--the amount of which I have
not heard--payable in Guatemala city; to be doubled if the orchids should
prove white. Don Hilario declined this proposal with oaths; he dared not
go to Guatemala city, and he could not trust a friend. The negotiations
came to an end. Grumbling and swearing he rode for a while by himself;
then fell into silence, and presently rejoined Oversluys quite cheerful.
The houses were close by.
'It's a bargain, friend,' he said. 'Your hand! It's a bargain!'
'Good! Now I won't take my mules with the orchids into the village. Can
you lead us round to the other side? There is a hut there, I daresay,
where I can leave my men and return with you.'
Don Hilario declared that such precautions were unnecessary, but when
Oversluys insisted he led the way through by-paths. They did not meet a
soul. Upon the edge of a broad savannah beyond was a corral, or enclosure,
and a shed, used by the _vaqueros_ for slaughtering, branding, and so
forth in the season, empty now. Hundreds of cattle browsed slowly towards
the corral, for evening approached and the woods were full of jaguars
doubtless. Though unwatched at this time of year, they took refuge nightly
in the enclosure. It was just such a spot as Oversluys sought. His men had
food, and he told them to remain with the animals. Then he returned with
Don Hilario.
It is usual to ask the Cura for lodgings in a strange place; he himself
puts up a traveller who can pay. This was a rotund and masterful priest.
They found him alighting from his mule, with soutane rolled up to the
waist, showing a prodigious breadth of pea-green trousers. He wore a
triple string of blue beads round his neck, and flourished a whip of
cowhide.
Oversluys looked like a traveller who could pay, and he received a
greeting as warm as foreigner can expect; a foreigner in those lands is
presumed to be no 'Christian.' They entered the parsonage. Don Hilario was
to broach the business, but first Oversluys would satisfy himself that the
orchids were worth negotiation. He slipped away.
A glance settled that. The church was a low building of mud, as usual. On
either side the doorway, looking down the street, stood an ancient idol,
buried to the waist, but still five feet high. The features were battered,
but the round eyes, with pupils cut deep in a half circle, glared in
hideous threat, and the mouth gaped for blood; no need of an interpreter
there--one saw and felt the purpose. But Oversluys was not interested in
these familiar objects. He looked up. His comrade had not exaggerated the
size of the orchids, at least. They were noble specimens. But as for their
colour he could see no trace to guide him.
Don Hilario had gone to greet his parents; it was comparatively late when
he returned, but then he got to business forthwith. The Cura was startled.
He showed no indignation, but after pondering declined. Before going
further, Oversluys asked whether the orchids were white? Impatiently the
Cura replied that he never looked at them--very likely they were. People
decked the church with white flowers, and perhaps they got them from the
roof. He had other things to think about.
Oversluys guessed that the man was eager to sell but afraid, and fretful
accordingly. He raised his price, whilst Don Hilario taunted the Cura with
fearing his parishioners. That decided him. Loudly he declared that the
church was his own, and consented.
The deed must be done that night. But who would climb the church roof in
the dark? Don Hilario was prepared for that difficulty. He knew half a
dozen fellows of his own age and stamp who would enjoy the mischief. And
he went to collect them.
It was long past midnight when the band appeared--a set of lively young
ruffians. So vivacious were they, in fact, though not noisy, and so
disrespectful to their pastor as they drank a glass for luck, standing
round the board, that Oversluys thought it well to prepare for a 'row.' He
slipped out, saddled his mule and tied it by the door.
Then the young Indians filed off in high spirits, chuckling low and
nudging one another. The Cura followed to the door, commended them to
heaven and stopped. Don Hilario would not have that--he must take his
share of the enterprise. The others returned and remonstrated warmly. In
short, there was such hubbub, though all in low tones, that Oversluys grew
more and more alarmed. The Cura gave way savagely, however, and they
started again; but Oversluys kept well behind, leading his mule. It was a
dark night, though not dark as in a northern climate. He could follow the
little group with his eyes, a blurred mass stealing over the plaza. The
church itself was faintly visible a hundred yards away. All remained still
and silent. He advanced.
A low wall encircled the church. The Indians did not think it prudent to
use the entrance--of which those idols were the gate-posts, as it may be
said. Oversluys, reassured, had drawn close enough now to see them creep
up to the wall. Suddenly there was a roar! A multitude of figures leapt up
the other side of the wall, yelling!
That was 'Boot and Saddle' for Oversluys. Off he set full gallop, for the
risk of a broken neck is not worth counting when vengeful Indians are on
one's trail. But though all the village must have heard him thudding past,
no one pursued. Very extraordinary, but the whole incident was mysterious.
After fifteen years' experience the collector--a shrewd man at the
beginning--knew Indians well, but he could never explain this adventure.
Sometimes he thought it might have been a trick from beginning to end,
devised by Don Hilario to get the Cura into a scrape. I have no suggestion
to offer, but the little story seems worth note as an illustration of
manners.
Oversluys had good reason to remember it. Uncomfortably enough he waited
for dawn in the dank wood, holding his mule by the bridle, not daring to
advance. As soon as the path could be faintly traced he started, and
happily found the corral where his mules and servants had been left. The
cattle were streaming out already, bulls in advance. They blocked the
gateway, and with the utmost promptitude Oversluys withdrew into the bush.
Making his way to the fence he shouted for his mozos--in vain; climbed
over with no small difficulty and entered the shed. His mules were safe
enough but both mozos had vanished, having found or made friends in the
neighbourhood. And all his precious Cattleyas, left defenceless, had been
munched or trampled flat by the cattle! He never ceased to mourn that
loss.
A STORY OF CATTLEYA MOSSIAE
Since orchids never die, unless by accident, and never cease to grow,
there is no limit to the bulk they may attain. Mishap alone cuts their
lives short--commonly the fall or the burning of the tree to which they
cling. Mr. Burbidge secured one, a Grammatophyllum, 'as big as a
Pickford's van,' which a corvée of Dyaks could not lift. Some old
collections even in Europe show prodigious monsters; in especial, I am
told, that of the Duke of Northumberland at Alnwick. Mr. Astor has two
Peristeria elata at Cliveden of which the bulbs are as large as an ostrich
egg, and the flower stems rise to a height of nine feet! The most striking
instance of the sort I myself have observed, if not quite the biggest, was
a Cattleya Mossiae sent home by Mr. Arnold. It enclosed two great branches
of a tree, rising from the fork below which it was sawn off--a bristling
mass four feet thick and five feet high; two feet more must be added if we
reckon the leaves. As for the number of flower-scapes it bore last season,
to count them would have been the work of hours; roughly I estimated a
thousand, bearing not less than three blooms, each six inches across.
Fancy cannot rise to the conception of that gorgeous display. I doubt not
that the forest would be scented for a hundred yards round.
Such giant Cattleyas are very rare in the 'wild state.' An orchid, though
immortal, is subject to so many accidents that only species of very quick
growth attain great age; these are less exposed to the perils of youth,
naturally. From time to time, however, an Indian removes some plant which
strikes him for its beauty or its size, and starts it afresh on a tree not
too tall--and therefore young--in view of his hut. Thus it takes a new
lease of life and grows indefinitely. I have not heard that 'white' peons
are so aesthetic.
This Cattleya Mossiae had been rescued by an Indian. Mr. Arnold first saw
it on his memorable search for Masdevallia Tovarensis. I must tell that
episode to begin with.
More than thirty years ago a German resident at Tovar sent a white
Masdevallia to a friend in England. There were very few species of the
genus, few plants indeed, under cultivation at that time, and all scarlet.
The novelty made a vast sensation. For a good many years the owner kept
dividing his single specimen, and putting fragments on the market, where
they fetched a very long price. Under such circumstances a man is not
inclined to tell where his treasure comes from. At an earlier date this
gentleman had published the secret so far as the name 'Tovar' went. But
there are several places so called in Spanish America, and importers
hesitated. At length Mr. Sander made up his mind. He sent Mr. Arnold to
Tovar in New Grenada.
Masdevallias are reckoned among the most difficult of orchids to import.
From their home in cool uplands they must be transported through some of
the hottest regions on the globe, and they have no pseudo-bulbs to sustain
them; a leaf and a root, one may say, compose each tiny plant.
Mr. Arnold, therefore, was provided with some sacks of Sphagnum moss in
which to stow his finds. These sacks he registered among his personal
baggage. At Waterloo, however, the station-master demurred. Moss, said he,
must travel by goods train. Arnold had not allowed himself time to spare.
The Royal mail steamer would leave within an hour of his arrival at
Southampton; to go without his moss was useless; and a pig-headed official
refused to pass it! Mr. Arnold does not profess to be meek. He
remonstrated with so much energy that the station-master fled the scene.
There was just time enough to load up the article in dispute and jump into
a carriage, helped by a friendly stranger.
The stranger had showed his friendliness before that. Standing at the open
door, he supported Arnold's cause with singular warmth and vociferation.
The latter was grateful, of course, and when he learned that his ally was
a fellow-passenger to Caracas he expressed the hope that they might share
a cabin. There was no difficulty about that. In short, they chummed.
This young man announced himself as Mr. Thompson, a traveller in the
hardware line, but he showed an intelligent curiosity about things in
general--about orchids, for instance, when he learned that such was
Arnold's business. Would it be possible for an ignoramus to make a few
pounds that way?--how should he set about it?--which is the class of
article most in demand just now, and where is it found? Before the voyage
ended, that traveller in the hardware line knew as much about Masdevallia
Tovarensis as Arnold could tell him. He bade goodbye aboard ship, for
pressing business obliged him to start up country forthwith.
Late in the afternoon Arnold, who was to stay some days at Caracas, met
his agent on the Plaza. 'By the bye,' said that gentleman, 'are you aware
that Mr. Blank started this morning in the direction of Tovar?'
Now Mr. Blank was a man of substance who began orchid-growing as an
amateur, but of late had turned professional.
'Bless me!' cried Arnold, 'is he here?'
The agent stared. 'Why, as I understood, he travelled in the same ship
with you.'
Arnold seized him by the wrist, while in his mind's eye he reviewed all
the passengers; they were not many. The only one who could possibly be Mr.
Blank was--Mr. Thompson!
'Get me a horse, sir!' he sputtered. 'Which way has the villain gone? And
a guide--with another horse! I'll pay anything! I'll go with you to hire
them! Come along!' Ten minutes afterwards he was on the track, full
gallop, stopping only at the hotel to get his pistol.
At a roadside posada, fifteen miles beyond, Mr. Blank was supping in
peace. The door opened. Arnold stalked in. He was in that mood of
intensest passion when a man's actions are stiff though he trembles--all
his muscles rigid with the effort of self-restraint.
Quietly he barred the door and quietly he sat down opposite to Mr. Blank,
putting his revolver on the board.
'Get your pistol, sir,' said he, scarcely above a whisper, 'we're going to
settle this business.' But Mr. Blank, after a frenzied stare, had
withdrawn beneath the table. Arnold hauled him out by the legs, demanding
instant combat.
But this was not the man to fight. He preferred to sign a confession and a
promise, guaranteed by most impressive oaths, not to revisit those parts
for six months. Then Arnold started him back, supperless, in the dark.
It may be added that the gentleman whom I have named Mr. Blank lost his
life in 1892, when seeking the habitat of Dendrobium Schröderianum, under
circumstances not wholly dissimilar. As in this case he sought to reap
where he had not sown. But peace be with him!
Without more adventures Arnold found Masdevallia Tovarensis. Of the first
consignment he despatched, forty thousand arrived in good health. This
quest completed in shorter time than had been allowed, he looked for
another 'job.' One is only embarrassed by the choice in that region. Upon
the whole it seemed most judicious to collect Cattleya Mossiae. And Arnold
set off for the hunting-grounds.
On this journey he saw the monster I have described. It grew beside the
dwelling of an Indian--not properly to be termed a 'hut,' nor a 'house.'
The man was a coffee-planter in a very small way. Nothing that Arnold
could offer tempted him in the least. His grandfather 'planted' the
Cattleya, and from that day it had been a privilege of the family to
decorate one portion of the neighbouring church with its flowers when a
certain great feast came round. Arnold tried to interest the daughter--a
very pretty girl: the Indian type there is distinctly handsome. Then he
tried her lover, who seemed willing to exert his influence for the
consideration of a real English gun. Arnold could not spare his own; he
had no other, and the young Indian would not accept promises. So the
matter fell through.
Three years afterwards Arnold was commissioned to seek Cattleya Mossiae
again. Not forgetting the giant, he thought it worth while to take a 'real
English gun' with him, though doubtless the maiden was a wife long since,
and her husband might ask for a more useful present. In due course he
reached the spot--a small Indian village in the mountains, some fifteen
miles from Caracas. The Cattleya was still there, perched aloft, as big as
a hogshead. Arnold's first glance was given to it; then he looked at the
owner's hospitable dwelling. It also was still there, but changed. Tidy it
had never been, but now it was ruinous. None of the village huts could be
seen, standing as they did each in its 'compound'--a bower of palm and
plantains, fruit-trees, above all, flowers. Afterwards he perceived that
they had all been lately rebuilt.
The old Indian survived, but it was not from him that Arnold learned the
story. The Cura told it. There had been a pronunciamiento somewhere in the
country, and the Government sent small bodies of troops--pressgangs, in
fact--to enlist 'volunteers.' One of these came to the village. The
officer in command, a good-looking young man, took up his abode in the
Indian's house and presently made it his headquarters, whence to direct
the man-hunts. Upon that pretext he stayed several weeks, to the delight
of the villagers, who were spared.
But one evening there was an outbreak. The lover rushed along the street,
dripping with blood--the officer, his sword drawn, pursuing. He ran into
his hut and snatched a gun from the wall. But it was too late; the other
cut him down. The day's field work was over--all the Indians had returned.
They seized their machetes, yelling vengeance, and attacked the officer.
But his soldiers also were close by. They ran up, firing as they ran. Some
villagers were killed, more wounded; the place was sacked. Next morning
early the detachment moved off. When the fugitives returning counted their
loss, the pretty daughter of old José was missing. The dead lay where they
fell, and she was not among them.
The Cura, an amiable veteran, did not doubt that she had been carried off
by force; was not this girl the most devout and dutiful in the parish? He
saddled his mule forthwith and rode into Caracas. The officer had
delivered his report, which may be easily imagined. Governments in Spanish
America at this day resent any kind of interference from the clergy. Had a
layman complained, doubtless there would have been an inquiry; in
Venezuela, as elsewhere, maidens are not to be carried off by young
aristocrats and no word said. But the authorities simply called on the
accused for an explanation, accepted his statement that the girl followed
him of her free-will, and recommended him to marry her. This he did, as
Arnold ascertained. As for the rest--_quien sabe_?
These sad events account for the old Indian's behaviour. Arnold found him
at home, and with him a young man not to be recognised at first, who
proved to be the lover. The muscles of his neck had been severed, causing
him to hold his head awry, and a slash had partially disabled his right
arm. Arnold was told abruptly that he could not lodge there, and he
withdrew. But on a sudden the lover whispered eagerly. They called him
back.
'Will you buy the Cattleya?' asked old José.
'How much?'
'Fifty dollars and a good gun.'
'It's a bargain.'
He paid there and then, nor quitted the spot, though very hungry, until
his followers had sawn through the branch and lowered its burden to the
ground. Carrying his spoil in triumph, suspended on a pole, Arnold sought
the Cura's house. There he heard the tale I have unfolded.
Not until evening did the Padre chance to see the giant Cattleya. He was
vexed, naturally, since his church lost its accustomed due. But when
Arnold told what he had paid for it, the good man was deeply moved. 'Holy
Virgin and all saints!' he cried, 'there will be murder!' And he set off
running to the Indian's house. It was empty. José and the lover had been
seen on the road to Caracas hours before--with the gun.
I am sorry that I cannot finish the story; too often we miss the dénoûment
in romances of actual life. But the Cura felt no doubt. It may be
to-night, or next year, or ten years hence, he said, but the captain is
doomed. Our Indians never forget nor forgive, nor fail when at length
they strike.
The murder was not announced whilst Arnold remained in the country. But
all whom he questioned gave the same forecast. Unless the Indians were
seized or died they would surely have vengeance.
[Illustration: CATTLEYA SCHRODERÆ VAR. MISS MARY MEASURES.]
CYPRIPEDIUM INSIGNE
Here is a house full of Cypripedium insigne; nothing else therein save a
row of big Cymbidiums in vases down the middle, Odontoglossum citrosmum
and Cattleya citrina hanging on wires overhead. Every one knows this
commonest of Cypripeds, though many may be unacquainted with the name.
Once I looked into a show of window-gardening in the precincts of
Westminster Abbey, and among the poor plants there, treasures of the
poorest, I found a Cypripedium insigne--very healthy and well-grown too.
But when I called the judges' attention, they politely refused to believe
me, though none of them could say what the mysterious vegetable was--not
the least curious detail of the incident. The flower cannot be called
beautiful, but undeniably it is quaint, and the honest unsophisticated
public loves it. Moreover the bloom appears in November, lasting till
Christmas, if kept quite cool. The species was introduced from Sylhet so
long ago as 1820, but it flourishes in many districts on the southern
slope of the Himalayas. New habitats are constantly discovered.
There are 505 plants in this house, and if individual flowers be not
striking commonly--that is, flowers of the normal type--the spectacle is
as pretty as curious when hundreds are open at once, apple-green, speckled
with brown and tipped with white. But to my taste, as a 'grower,' the
sight is pleasant at all seasons, for the green and glossy leaves
encircle each pot so closely that they form a bank of foliage without a
gap all round. But besides this house we have one much larger elsewhere,
containing no less than 2500 examples of the same species. If no two
flowers of an orchid on the same plant be absolutely similar, as experts
declare--and I have often proved the rule--one may fancy the sum of
variation among three thousand. Individually, however, it is so minute in
the bulk of Cypripedium insigne that a careless observer sees no
difference among a hundred blooms. I note some of the prominent
exceptions.
_Clarissimum._--Large, all white, except a greenish tinge at base of the
dorsal, and the broad yellow shield of the column.
_Laura Kimball_, on the other hand, is all ochreous yellow, save the
handsome white crown of the dorsal and a narrow white margin descending
from it.
_Statterianum_ is much like this, but spotted in the usual way.
_Bohnhoffianum_ has a dorsal of curious shape. The crest rises sharply
between square shoulders which fold over, displaying the reverse. It has
no spots, but at the base is a chestnut blotch, changing to vivid green,
which again vanishes abruptly, leaving a broad white margin. Vivid green
also are the petals, with brown lines; the slipper paler. This example is
unique.
_Macfarlanei_ is all yellowish green, with a white crest.
_Amesiae._--The dorsal has a broad white outline and a drooping crest. To
white succeeds a brilliant green, and to that, in the middle, bright
chestnut. Chestnut lines also, and dots, mount upward. The green petals
are similarly lined, and the slipper is greenish, tinged with chestnut.
_Longisepalum_ is flesh-colour, with a greenish tinge and pink spots on
the very long dorsal. The pink spots change to lines upon the petals.
Slipper ruddy green.
_Dimmockianum._--The broad and handsome dorsal is green, with white
margin. A red stain at the base is continued in lines of spots upwards.
The petals are scored with the same colour.
_Measuresiae._--Big, with a grand dorsal, pale grass-green below, broadly
whitening as it swells. Petals the same green, with a dark midrib and
fainter lines. Slipper yellow.
_Rona_ is an example of the common type in its utmost perfection--large,
symmetrical, its green tinge the liveliest possible, its white both snowy
and broad, and its spots so vigorously imprinted that they rise above the
surface like splashes of solid chocolate.
_Majesticum_ is another of the same class, but distinguished by the
enormous size of its dorsal.
_Dorothy._--Dorsal greenish yellow, with faint spots of chestnut and a
broad white margin. Petals and slipper the same greenish-yellow tone.
_R. H. Measures._--For size as for colour this variety is astonishing. Its
gigantic dorsal is white, prettily stained at base with pale green, in
which are enormous red spots, irregularly set. Petals tawny greenish, with
lines and dots of red. The slipper matches.
_Harefield Hall_ variety resembles this, but smaller. The great spots of
the dorsal are more crimson, the petals and slipper a darker hue.
_Frederico._--Within a broad white outline the dorsal is all yellow,
heavily spotted and splashed with chestnut. The reddish tawny petals are
lined and spotted with chestnut, and the tawny slipper shows a chestnut
network.
_Corrugatum._--The name refers to a peculiarity unique and inexplicable.
The slipper, so smooth in every other case, has a strong breastbone, so to
say, and five projecting ribs on either side, arching round diagonally
from the back--pale brown on a darker ground. The dorsal is all yellow,
spotted with brown, but the crest overhangs, showing its white underside.
_Drewett's variety._--Dorsal white, with a green base and huge blotches of
red-brown; greenish petals lined with the same; ruddy greenish slipper.
_Eximium._--A natural hybrid doubtless, though we cannot guess what its
other parent may be; it came among a lot of the ordinary form. Very small.
The funny little dorsal is yellow, spotted throughout with red. The small
petals have a crimson tinge, much darker in the upper length. Slipper dull
crimson; the yellow shield of the column is very conspicuous on that
ground.
_Hector._--The dorsal is pale grass-green, with a white crest and margin
and large chestnut spots; petals and slipper reddish ochre.
_Punctatum_ is a title very commonly bestowed when the usual spots run
together, making small blotches, arranged in lines; often the petals have
a white margin, more or less broad, which shows them off.
Here also I should mention the famous Cyp. ins. Sanderae, though, as a
matter of fact, it is lodged elsewhere. The story of this wonderful orchid
has often been told, but not every one has heard it. I may be allowed to
quote my own version, published in _About Orchids--a Chat_ (Chapman and
Hall, 1893). 'Among a great number of Cypripedium insigne received at St.
Albans, and "established" there, Mr. Sander noted one presently of which
the flower-stalk was yellow instead of brown, as is usual. Sharp eyes are
a valuable item of the orchid-growers' stock-in-trade, for the smallest
peculiarity among such "sportive" objects should not be neglected.
Carefully he put the yellow-stalk aside. In due course the flower opened
and proved to be all golden. Mr. Sander cut his plant in two, sold half
for seventy-five guineas at Protheroe's auction rooms, and the other half
to Mr. R. H. Measures. One of the purchasers divided his plant and sold
two bits at a hundred guineas each. Another piece was bought back by Mr.
Sander, who wanted it for hybridising, at two hundred and fifty guineas.'
Not less than forty exist perhaps at the present time, for as soon as a
morsel proves big enough to be divided, divided it is. Here we have two
fine plants and a healthy young fragment.
[Illustration: CYPRIPEDIUM INSIGNE, VAR. SANDERÆ.]
To describe the flower is an ungrateful task. Tints so exquisitely soft
are not to be defined in words; it is pleasanter to sum them up in the
phrase 'all golden,' as I did formerly, when there was no need for
precision. But here I must be specific, and in truth Cypripedium insigne
Sanderae is not to be so described. The dorsal, beautifully waved, has a
broad white margin and a cloud of the tenderest grass-green in the midst,
covered with a soft green network. There are a few tiniest specks of brown
on either side the midrib. The petals might be termed palest primrose, but
when compared with the pure yellow slipper a pretty tinge of green
declares itself. A marvel of daintiness and purity.
In this house hang Catt. citrina, Odont. citrosmum, and Laelia
Jongheana--five rows. Of the first, so charming but so common, it is
enough to say that the owner of this collection has contrived to secure
the very biggest examples, in their native growth, that a sane imagination
could conceive--so big that I should not have credited a report of their
dimensions. The ordinary form of citrosmum also demands no comment, and I
deal with the interesting Laelia Jongheana elsewhere. But we have a number
of citrosmum roseum, which has white sepals and petals and a pink lip; of
citrosmum album, all purest white, save the yellow crest; and of the
cream-coloured variety, which to my mind is loveliest of all. Sir Trevor
Lawrence collects these at every opportunity, and I remember the charming
display he made once at the Temple Show, when their long pendulous
garlands formed the backing to his stand.
STORY OF CATTLEYA SKINNERI ALBA
The annals of botany are full of incident and adventure, especially that
branch which deals with orchids. All manner of odd references and
associations one finds there. I myself, having studied the subject, was
not much surprised to meet with a tale of orchids and cock-fighting
lately; but others may like to hear how such an odd connection arose.
The name of the orchid was Cattleya Skinneri alba, one of the rarest and
most beautiful we have; the name of the hero, Benedict Roezl, greatest of
all collectors. This experience gives some notion of his ready wit, cool
daring, and resource. But I could tell some even more characteristic.
It is necessary to say that Cattleya Skinneri _tout court_--a charming
rosy flower--was discovered by Mr. Skinner long before this date--in 1836;
but no white Cattleya had yet been heard of.
It was in 1870. Roezl had made a very successful foray in the
neighbourhood of Tetonicapan, Guatemala, and with a long train of mules he
was descending towards the coast. His head mozo could be trusted; the
perils of the road--streams, mud, precipices, and brigands--had been left
behind; Roezl, rejoicing in the consciousness of good work well done,
pushed on by himself towards the village where they were to spend the
night.
He had not been there before, but the road--rather, the trail--was plain
enough. Unfortunately it led him, after a while, into a jicara-grove.
This tree, which supplies the calabash used throughout Central America,
has some very odd peculiarities. Its leaves grow by fours, making a cross,
and on that account, doubtless, the Indians esteem it sacred; their pagan
forefathers reverenced the cross. The trunks spring at equal distances, as
if planted by rule, but such is their natural habit; I have the strongest
impression that Mr. Belt found a cause for this eccentricity, but the
passage I cannot discover. Thirdly, jicara-trees always stand in a
low-lying savannah, across which they are marshalled in lines and 'spaced'
like soldiers on parade in open order--at least, I never saw them in
another situation. Such spots are damp, and the herbage grows strong; thus
the half-wild cattle are drawn thither, and before the wet season comes to
an end they have trampled the whole surface, obliterating all signs of a
path, if one there be, and confounding the confusion by making tracks
innumerable through the jungle round.
Upon such a waste Roezl entered, and he paused forthwith to deliberate.
The compass would not help him much, for if it told the direction of the
village, the Indian trail which led thither might open to right or left
anywhere on the far side of the grove. Travellers in those wilds must
follow the beaten course.
At length he took bearings, so as to go straight at least, and rode on.
Presently an Indian lad came out from the forest behind him, but stopped
at sight of the tall stranger. Roezl shouted--he spoke every patois of
Spanish America with equal fluency. The boy advanced at length. He could
only talk his native Quiché, but Roezl made out that he was going to the
village--sent him ahead, and followed rejoicing. So he crossed the
jicara-ground.
But in the forest beyond, it was not easy to keep up with an Indian boy
trotting his fastest. In a few minutes the guide had vanished and Roezl
hurried along after him. Suddenly a ragged rascal sprang out from the
bushes ahead with levelled gun. Roezl glanced back. Two others barred his
retreat.
Not unfamiliar with such incidents, he laughed and offered his
purse--never well filled. Good humour and wit had carried him through
several adventures of the kind without grave annoyance; once in Mexico,
when he had not one silver coin to ransom himself, a party of bandits kept
him twenty-four hours simply to enjoy his drolleries, and dismissed him
with ten dollars--which was a godsend, said Roezl. But these fellows only
spoke Quiché, and they were sullen dogs.
The purse did not satisfy them by any means. They made their prisoner
dismount and enter the forest, marching behind him. The camp was close by,
and here Roezl found his guide, hitched to a tree by the neck. The brigand
officer and some of the men talked Spanish, and they appreciated Roezl's
'chaff,' treating him with boisterous familiarity; but they would not hear
of letting him go until the Captain's arrival. He sat upon the ground,
exchanging jokes with the ruffians, drinking their aguardiente and smoking
their best cigars, like a jovial comrade.
Meantime the Indian members of the band were out of the fun, and they
attended to business. What they wanted of the lad Roezl did not
understand, but when he persisted in refusing they beat him savagely. At
length it went so far that Roezl could not bear to hear the poor fellow's
cries. Putting the matter humorously, he begged the lieutenant to
interfere, and that worthy commanded the Indians to desist.
After an hour or so the Captain appeared, and Roezl's case was put before
him; at the same moment, however, the scouts brought in a priest. He had
resisted probably, for they had bound and beaten him. Such treatment was
novel, doubtless. It had taken all spirit out of the holy man, who walked
as humbly as could be till he set eyes on the Captain. Then his courage
returned. They were old acquaintances, evidently, and the Padre claimed
satisfaction. He did not get it; but the Captain set him free, with
apologies. The boy proved to be his servant, and he also was released.
Roezl asserted a claim to equal consideration as defender of that youth,
and at length it was ungraciously allowed. Remembering, however, that his
precious orchids would soon arrive and fall into the brigands' hands, to
be smashed in spite probably, he ransomed them by a bill drawn on himself
at the capital. Then he rode on to overtake the priest, who was Cura of
the village which he sought.
Not prepossessing at all was that ecclesiastic. None of the bandits had a
more stupid expression or one less amiable. But Roezl found presently that
he had some reason for ill-humour. Six cocks had he taken to a grand match
at Tetonicapan the day before--three his own, three belonging to
parishioners; and every one was killed! The boy had been sent in advance
to break the news.
Cock-fighting is the single amusement of that population, besides drink,
of course, and the single interest of its ministers--most of them, at
least. This padre could talk of nothing else. It was not a subject that
amused Roezl, but he knew something of that as of all else that pertains
to life in those countries. The dullest of mortals could not help
gathering information about cocks and their ways in a lifetime of travel
up and down Spanish America; the most observant, such as this, must needs
collect a vast deal of experience. But Roezl was not interested in his
companion.
Not, that is, until he reached the village. The Cura had invited him to
his house--so to call an adobe building of two rooms, without upper floor.
It stood beside the church, hardly less primitive. Roezl glanced at the
roof of this structure in passing. It has been mentioned that the Indians
have a pleasant custom of removing any orchid they find, notable for size
or beauty, to set on the church roof or on trees around it. In the course
of his long wanderings Roezl had bought or begged several fine plants from
a padre, but only when the man was specially reckless or specially
influential with his parishioners. The practice dates from heathen times,
and the Indians object to any desecration of their offerings.
It was with curiosity rather than hope, therefore, that Roezl scrutinised
the airy garden. There were handsome specimens of Cattleya--Skinneri most
frequent, of course--Lycaste, Oncidium, and Masdevallia. They had done
blooming mostly, but a belated flower showed here and there. In one big
clump he saw something white--looked more closely--paused. The plant was
Cattleya Skinneri certainly. How should a white flower be there?
All other collectors, perhaps, at that time, would have passed on, taking
it for granted that some weed had rooted itself amid the clump. But for
many years Roezl had been preaching that all Cattleyas of red or violent
tint, so to class them roughly, must make albino 'sports.' I believe he
had not one instance to cite in proof of his theory, which is a
commonplace now. A wondrous instinct guided him--the same which predicted
that an Odontoglossum of extraordinary character would be found in a
province he had never entered, where, years afterwards, the striking
Odont. Harryanum was discovered. Men talked of Roezl's odd fancy with
respect, but very few heeded it.
He tried various points of view, but nowhere could the flower be seen
distinctly. After grumbling and fuming a while the Cura left him, and
presently he followed. That reverend person was an object of interest now.
At the first opportunity Roezl mentioned that he was seeking a white Flor
de San Sebastian, as they name Cattleya Skinneri, for which he would pay
a good sum, and asked if there were any in the neighbourhood.
The Cura replied at once, 'You won't get one here. Many years ago my
people found one in the forest, but they never saw another before or
since.'
'What did they do with it?' Roezl asked breathlessly.
'Fixed it on the church, of course.'
The man was stupid, but in those parts an idiot can see any opening for
trade. To suppose that a cock-fighting Guatemalan priest could have
scruples about stripping his church would be grotesque. If he did not
snatch at the chance to make money, when told that the stranger would pay
for his whim, it must be because the removal of that plant would be so
hazardous that he did not even think of it. Roezl dropped the subject.
They ate--more especially, they drank. The leading men of the village came
in to hear the sad story of the cock-fight. Not one word on any other
topic was spoken until they withdrew to bed. But Roezl was not bored after
a while. So soon as he grasped the situation, his quick wits began
speculating and contriving means to tempt the Padre. And as he listened to
the artless if not innocent discourse of these rustics, gradually a notion
formed itself.
The issue of the great match had been a disaster all round. In the first
place, there was an antique feud with the victors. Secondly, their cocks
had been defeated so often that for two years past they had lain low,
saving their money to buy champion birds at the capital. And this was the
result! In the assurance of triumph they had staked all they could raise
upon the issue. That money was lost, and the cocks besides. Utter rout and
bankruptcy! No wonder the priest sent his boy ahead to break the awful
news.
Despairingly they speculated on the causes of their bad luck from year to
year, and it was in listening to this discussion that Roezl perceived a
gleam of hope. The mules arrived with his orchids, and started again in
the morning; but he stayed behind. The Cura was more than willing to
explain the local system of feeding, keeping, training, and in general of
managing cocks. Roezl went into it thoroughly without comment; but when
the leading parishioners assembled at night, as usual, he lifted up his
voice.
'My friends,' said he, 'you are always beaten because you do not
understand the tricks of these wily townsmen. What you should import from
Guatemala is not champion cocks, but a good cock-master, up to date. I'm
afraid he would sell you indeed, but there is no other way.'
They looked at one another astounded, but the Cura broke out, 'Rubbish!
What do we do wrong?'
'Only a fool gives away valuable secrets. If you want my information you
must pay for it. But I will tell you one thing. You keep your cocks tied
up in a cupboard'--I am giving the sense of his observations--'by
themselves, where they get spiritless and bored. You have been to
Tetonicapan. Is that how they do there? In every house you see the cocks
tied in a corner of the living room, where people come and go, often
bringing their own birds with them. Hens enter too sometimes. So they are
always lively and eager. This you have seen! Is it not so?'
'It is,' they muttered with thoughtful brows.
'Well, I make you a present of that hint. If you want any more valuable,
you must pay.' And he withdrew.
Weighty was the consultation doubtless. Presently they went in search of
him, the whole body, and asked his terms.
'You shall not buy on speculation,' said Roezl. 'Is there a village in the
neighbourhood where they treat their cocks as you do, and could you make a
match for next Sunday? Yes? Well, then, you shall tie up your birds in a
public room, follow my directions in feeding, and so forth. If you
conquer, you shall pay me; if not, not.'
'What shall we pay?' asked the Cura.
'Your reverence and all these caballeros shall swear on the altar to give
me the white Flor de San Sebastian which grows on the church roof.'
The end is foreseen. Roezl carried off his White Cattleya and sold it to
Mr. George Hardy of Manchester for 280 guineas.
THE PHALAENOPSIS HOUSE
Phalaenopsis are noted for whimsicality. They flourish in holes and
corners where no experienced gardener would put them, and they flatly
refuse to live under all the conditions most approved by science. Most
persons who grow them have such adventures to tell, their own or reported.
Sir Trevor Lawrence mentioned at the Orchid Conference that he once built
a Phalaenopsis house at the cost of £600; after a few months' trial he
restored his plants to their old unsatisfactory quarters and turned this
beautiful building to another purpose. The authorities at Kew tell the
same story with rueful merriment. In both cases, the situation, the plan,
every detail, had been carefully and maturely weighed, with intimate
knowledge of the eccentricities to be dealt with and profound respect for
them. Upon the other hand, I could name a 'grower' of the highest standing
who used to keep his Phalaenopsis in a ramshackle old greenhouse belonging
to a rough market-gardener of the neighbourhood--perhaps does still. How
he came to learn that they would thrive there as if under a blessed spell
I have forgotten. But once I paid the market-gardener a visit and there,
with my own eyes, beheld them flourishing under conditions such that I do
not expect a plain statement of the facts to be believed. In the midst of
the rusty old ruin was a stand with walls of brick; above this wires had
been fixed along the roof. The big plants hung lowest. Upon the edges of
their baskets smaller plants were poised, and so they stood, one above
another, like a child's house of cards--I am afraid to say how high. A
labouring man stood first at one end, then at the other, and cheerfully
plied the syringe. They were not taken down nor touched from month to
month.
Seeing and hearing all this, I cried--but the reader can imagine what I
cried.
'Well,' replied the market-gardener, 'I don't understand your orchids. But
I shouldn't ha' thought they was looking poorly.'
Poorly! Under these remarkable circumstances some scores of Phalaenopsis
were thriving as I never saw them elsewhere.
In this house they do very well, growing and flowering freely, giving no
trouble by mysterious ailments. We have most of the large
species--amabilis, Stuartiana, Schilleriana, Sanderiana, etc. No
description of these is required. Hybrids of Phalaenopsis are few as yet.
Here is Hebe, the product of rosea × Sanderiana, rosy white of sepal and
petal, bright pink of lip, yellow at the base.
On the left is a 'rockery' of tufa, planted with the hybrid Anthuriums
which Messrs. Sander have been producing so industriously of late years.
To my mind, an infant could make flowers as good as Anthuriums, if
equipped with a sufficient quantity of sealing-wax, red and pink and
white. Their form is clumsy, and grace they have none. But when they
recognise a fashion, the wise cease to protest. Anthuriums are the
fashion.
Since that is so, and many worthy persons will be interested, I name the
hybrids here.
Of the Andreeanum type, raised by crossing its various
forms:--_Lawrenciae_, pure white; _Goliath_, blood-red; _Salmoniae_,
flesh-colour; _Lady Godiva_, white faintly tinged with flesh-colour;
_Albanense_, deep red, spadix vermilion--this was one of the twelve 'new
plants' which won the First Prize at the International Exhibition 1892.
Of the Rothschildianum type:--_Saumon_, salmon-colour; _niveum_, very
large, whitish, with orange-red markings; _aurantiacum_, coloured like the
yolk of egg; _The Queen_, evenly marked in red, orange, and white.
Overhead hang small plants of Phalaenopsis and Dendrobium; on a shelf
above the Anthuriums, against the glass, two large specimens of the noble
Cyp. bellatulum album--which with a despairing effort I have tried to
sketch elsewhere--and no less than 380 plants of Cyp. Godefroyae, and its
variety, Cyp. leucochilum, both white, heavily spotted with brownish
purple.
THE VANDA HOUSE
lies beyond. Only the tall species are here, for such gems as V.
Kimballiana and Amesiana would be lost among these giants. But there is
little to say about our Vandas beyond a general commendation of their fine
stature and glossy leaves. It is not a genus which we study, and the
plants belong to ordinary species--the best of their class, however. For
the benefit of experts I may mention, among specimens of Vanda suavis, the
Dalkeith variety, Rollison's, Veitch's, Wingate, and Manchester; among
Vanda tricolor, planilabris--grandest of all--Dalkeith, aurea, Pattison's,
insignis, Rohaniana.
But _Miss Joaquim_ must be mentioned (V. teres × V. Hookeriana), sepals
and petals of a pretty rose colour, lip orange; a flower charming in
itself, but still more notable as the product of a young lady's
enthusiasm. Miss Agnes Joaquim is the daughter of a Consul at Singapore,
residing at Mount Narcis in the vicinity.
STORY OF VANDA SANDERIANA
There are those who pronounce Vanda Sanderiana the stateliest of all
orchids. To compare such numberless and varied forms of beauty is rather
childish. But it will be allowed that a first view of those enormous
flowers, ten or more upon a stalk--lilac above, pale cinnamon below,
covered with a network of crimson lines--is a memorable sensation for the
elect.
We may fancy the emotions of Mr. Roebelin on seeing it--the earliest of
articulate mortals so favoured. His amazement and delight were not alloyed
by anticipation, for no rumour of the marvel had gone forth. Roebelin was
travelling 'on spec' for once. In 1879 Mr. Sander learned that the
Philippine Government was about to establish a mail service from Manila to
Mindanao. Often had he surveyed that great island longingly, from his
arm-chair at St. Albans, assured that treasures must await the botanist
there. But although the Spaniards had long held settlements upon the
coast, and, of course, claimed sovereignty over the whole, there had
hitherto been no regular means of communication with a port whence
steamers sailed for Europe. A collector would be at the mercy of chance
for transmitting his spoil, after spending assuredly a thousand pounds. It
was out of the question. But the establishment of a line of steamers to
Manila transformed the situation. Forthwith Roebelin was despatched, to
find what he could.
He landed, of course, at the capital, Mindanao; and the Spaniards--civil,
military, even ecclesiastic--received him cordially. Any visitor was no
less than a phenomenon to them. It is a gay and pleasant little town, for
these people, having neither means nor opportunity, as a rule, to revisit
Europe, make their home in the East. And Roebelin found plenty of good
things round the glorious bay of Illana. But he learned with surprise that
the Spaniards did not even profess to have authority beyond a narrow strip
here and there upon the coast. The interior is occupied by savages,
numerous and warlike, Papuan by race, or crossed with the Philippine
Malay. Though they are not systematically hostile to white men, Roebelin
saw no chance of exploring the country.
Then he heard of a 'red Phalaenopsis,' on the north coast, a legendary
wonder, which must have its own chronicle by and by. Seduced especially by
this report, Roebelin sailed in a native craft to Surigao, a small but
very thriving settlement, which ranks next to the capital. People there
were well acquainted with Phalaenopsis, but they knew nothing of a red
one; some of them, however, talked in vague ecstasy of an orchid with
flowers as big as a dinner-plate to be found on the banks of Lake
Magindanao, a vast sheet of water in the middle of the island. They did
not agree about the shape, or colour, or anything else relating to it; but
such a plant must be well worth collecting anyhow. It was not dangerous to
ascend the river, under due precautions, nor to land at certain points of
the lake. Such points are inhabited by the Subano tribe, who live in
hourly peril from their neighbours the Bagabos, against whom they beg
Spanish protection. Accordingly white men are received with enthusiasm.
The expedition, therefore, would be comparatively safe, if a guide and
interpreter could be found. And here Roebelin was lucky. A small trader
who had debts to collect among the Subanos offered his sampan, with its
crew, on reasonable terms, and proposed to go himself. He was the son of a
Chinaman from Singapore, by a native wife, and spoke intelligible English.
The crew also had mostly some Chinese blood, and Roebelin gathered that
they were partners of Sam Choon, his dragoman, in a very small way. The
number of Celestials and half-breeds of that stock in Mindanao had already
struck him, in comparison with Manila. Presently he learned the reason.
The energetic and tenacious Chinaman is hated by all classes of
Spaniards--by the clergy because he will not be converted, by the
merchants because he intercepts their trade, by the military because he
will not endure unlimited oppression, and by the public at large because
he is hard-working, thrifty, and successful. He is dangerous, too, when
roused by ill-treatment beyond the common, and his secret societies
provide machinery for insurrection at a day's notice. But in Mindanao the
Chinaman is indispensable. White traders could not live without his
assistance. They do not love him the better, but they protect him so far
as they may from the priests and the military.
I have no adventures to tell on the journey upwards. It lasted a good many
days. Roebelin secured few plants, for this part is inhabited by Bagabos,
or some race of their kidney, and Sam Choon would not land in the forest.
At length they reached Lake Magindanao; the day was fine, and they pushed
across. But presently small round clouds began to mount over the blue
hills. Thicker and thicker they rose. A pleasant wind swelled the surface
of the lake, but those clouds far above moved continually faster. Roebelin
called attention to them. But the Chinaman is the least weatherwise of
mortals. Always intent on his own business or pleasure--the constitution
of mind which gives him such immense advantage above all other men in the
struggle for existence--he does not notice his surroundings much. Briefly,
a tremendous squall caught them in sight of port--one of those sudden
outbursts which make fresh-water sailing so perilous in the Tropics. The
wind swooped down like a hurricane from every quarter at once, as it
seemed. For a moment the lake lay still, hissing, beaten down by the blow;
then it rose in solid bulk like waves of the ocean. In a very few minutes
the squall passed on; but it had swamped the sampan. They were so near the
land, however, that the Subanos, hastening to the rescue, met them half
way in the surf, escorted them to shore, laughing and hallooing, and
returned to dive for the cargo. It was mostly recovered in time.
These people do not build houses in the water, like so many of their kin.
They prefer the safety of high trees; it is not by any means so effectual,
but such, they would say, was the custom of their ancestors. At this
village the houses were perched not less than fifty feet in air, standing
on a solid platform. But if the inhabitants are thus secured against
attack, on the other hand--each family living by itself up aloft--an enemy
on the ground would be free to conduct his operations at leisure. So the
unmarried men and a proportion of the warriors occupy a stout building
raised only so far above the soil as to keep out reptiles. Here also the
chief sits by day, and public business is done. The visitors were taken
thither.
When Roebelin had dried his clothes the afternoon was too far advanced for
exploration. The crew of the prau chattered and disputed at the top of
their shrill voices as case after case was brought in, dripping, and
examined. But Sam Choon found time in the midst of his anxieties to warn
Roebelin against quitting the cleared area. 'Bagabos come just now, they
say,' he shouted. But the noise and the fuss and the smell were past
bearing. Roebelin took his arms and strolled out till supper was ready.
I do not know what he discovered. On returning he found a serious palaver,
the savages arguing coolly, the Chinamen raving. Sam Choon rushed up,
begging him to act as umpire; and whilst eating his supper Roebelin
learned the question in dispute. Sam Choon, as we know, had debts to
collect in this village, for cloth and European goods, to be paid in
jungle produce--honey, wax, gums, and so forth. The Subanos did not deny
their liability--the natural man is absolutely truthful and honest. Nor
did they assert that they could not pay. Their contention was simply that
the merchandise had been charged at a figure beyond the market rate.
Another Chinaman had paid them a visit, and sold the same wares at a lower
price. They proposed to return Sam Choon's goods unused, and to pay for
anything they could not restore on this reduced scale. It was perfectly
just in the abstract, and the natural man does not conceive any other sort
of justice. Sam Choon could not dispute that his rival's cloth was equally
good; it bore the same trademark, and those keen eyes were as well able to
judge of quality as his own. But the trader everywhere has his own code of
morals. Those articles for which the Subanos were indebted had been
examined, and the price had been discussed, at leisure; an honest man
cannot break his word. Such diverse views were not to be reconciled.
Roebelin took a practical course. He asked whether it could possibly be
worth while to quarrel with these customers for the sake of a very few
dollars? At the lower rate there would be a profit of many hundreds per
cent. But the Chinaman, threatened with a loss in business, is not to be
moved, for a while at least, by demonstrations of prudence.
Meantime the dispute still raged at the Council fire, for the crew also
were interested. Suddenly there was a roar. Several of them rushed across
to Sam Choon and shouted great news. Roebelin understood afterwards. The
caitiff who had undersold them was in the village at that moment! Whilst
they jabbered in high excitement another roar burst out. One of the men,
handling the rival's cloth, found a private mark--the mark of his 'Hoey.'
And it was that to which they all belonged.
The Hoey may be described as a trade guild; but it is much more. Each of
these countless associations is attached to one of the great secret
societies, generally the T'ien T'i Hung, compared with which, for numbers
and power, Freemasonry is but a small concern. By an oath which expressly
names father, son, and brother, the initiated swear to kill any of their
fellows who shall wrong a member of the Hoey. This unspeakable villain who
sold cheap had wronged them all! He must die!
They pressed upon the chief in a body, demanding the traitor. All had arms
and brandished them. Probably the savages would not have surrendered a
guest on any terms; but this demonstration provoked them. In howling
tumult they dispersed, seized their ready weapons, and formed line. The
war-cry was not yet raised, but spears were levelled by furious hands. The
issue depended on any chance movement. Suddenly from a distance came the
blast of a cow-horn--a muffled bellow, but full of threat. The savages
paused, turned, and rushed out, shouting. Roebelin caught a word, familiar
by this time--'Bagabos.' He followed; but Sam Choon seized his arm. 'They
put _ranjows_,' he said breathlessly. 'You cut foot, you die!' And in the
moonlight Roebelin saw boys running hither and thither with an armful of
bamboo spikes sharp as knives at each end, which they drove into the
earth.
Men unacquainted with the plan of this defence can only stand aside when
ranjows are laid down. Roebelin waited with the Chinamen, tame and quiet
enough now. The Subanos had all vanished in the forest, which rose, misty
and still, across the clearing. Hours they watched, expecting each moment
to hear the yell of savage fight. But no sound reached them. At length a
long line of dusky figures emerged, with arms and ornaments sparkling in
the moonlight. It was half the warriors returning.
They still showed sullenness towards the Chinamen; but the chief took
Roebelin by the hand, led him to the foot of a tree upon which stood the
largest house, and smilingly showed him the way up. It was not a pleasant
climb. The ladder, a notched trunk, dripped with dew; it was old and
rotten besides. Roebelin went up gingerly; the chief returned with a torch
to light his steps before he had got half way. But the interior was
comfortable enough--far above the mosquito realm anyhow. Roebelin felt
that an indefinite number of eyes were watching from the darkness as he
made his simple preparations for turning in; but he saw none of them, and
heard only a rustling. 'What a day I've had!' he thought, and fell asleep.
It was a roar and a rush like the crack of doom which woke him; shrieking
and shouting, clang of things that fell, boom of great waves, and thunder
such as mortal never heard dominating all. A multitude of naked bodies
stumbled over him and fell, a struggling, screaming heap. In an instant
they were gone. He started up, but pitched headlong. The floor rolled
elastic as a spring-board. It was black night. Dimly he saw clearer
patches where a flying wretch, tossed against the wall of sticks, had
broken it down. But the dust veiled them like a curtain. Gasping, on hands
and knees, Roebelin sought the doorway. Again and again, even thus, he
fell upon his side. And all the while that thundering din resounded. He
understood now. It was a great earthquake! At length the doorway was
found; holding on cautiously, Roebelin felt for the ladder. It was
gone--broken in the rush.
Of the time that followed I do not speak. There were no more shocks.
Slowly the sky whitened. He turned over the wreck--not a creature was
there, dead or living. Great gaps showed in the floor and in the roof.
Through one of these, against the rosy clouds, he saw a wreath of giant
flowers, lilac and cinnamon, clinging to the tree above. It was Vanda
Sanderiana!
* * * * *
But that plant and the others collected at the same time never reached
Europe. Upon returning to Surigao with his treasures, Roebelin found
little beyond heaps of rubbish on the site. Earthquakes have a home in
Mindanao. But that of 1880 was the most awful on record as yet. Two years
later he returned and brought home the prize.
STORY OF PHALAENOPSIS SANDERIANA
The discovery of Phalaenopsis Sanderiana was an interesting event; nor for
botanists alone. Some thoughtful persons always incline to credit a legend
or an assertion current among savages, so long as it deals with facts
within the limits of their knowledge. Human beings are truthful by
instinct; and if we can assure ourselves that no motive tempts them to
falsehood, it is more likely than not that even an improbable story will
prove correct. The rule applies in all matters of natural history.
Numberless are the reports concerning beasts and birds and reptiles
accepted now which were a mock for generations; numberless, also, one must
add, are the reports too grotesque for discussion. For imagination asserts
itself in the case of animals, and gives a motive, though unconscious, for
the wildest inventions. But it is rarely excited by plants. When a savage
describes some flower he has seen, the statement may be trusted, 'barring
errors'; and they will probably be slight, for his power of observation,
and his memory in matters of this sort, are alike wonderful. A collector
of plants who knows his business encourages the natives to talk; often
enough they give him valuable information. The first hint of Calla
Pentlandii, the yellow Egyptian lily or 'arum,' was furnished by a Zulu
who came from a great distance to visit a relative in the service of
Captain Allison. I may venture to tell secrets which will be common
property soon. A blue Calla and a scarlet have been found--both of them
on report of Kaffirs.
The story of Phalaenopsis Sanderiana is a striking instance. Its allied
species, grandiflora and amabilis, reached Europe in 1836 and 1847
respectively. Their snowy whiteness and graceful habit prepared the world
for a burst of enthusiasm when Phalaenopsis Schilleriana, the earliest of
the coloured species, was brought from the Philippines in 1860. The Duke
of Devonshire paid Messrs. Rollison a hundred guineas for the first plant
that flowered. Such a price was startling then. Reported at Manila, it set
the Spaniards talking and inquiring. Messrs. Rollison had sent an agent to
collect Phalaenopsis there, who presently reported a scarlet species! No
one he could find had seen it, but the natives spoke confidently, and he
hoped to forward a consignment without delay. But years and years passed.
The great firm of Rollison flourished, decayed, and vanished, but that
blessed consignment was never shipped.
Other collectors visited the Philippines. They also reported the wonder,
on hearsay, and every mail brought them reiterated instructions to find
and send it at any cost. Now here, now there, the pursuers hunted it to a
corner; but when they closed, it was elsewhere. Meantime the settled
islands had been explored gradually. Many fine things escaped attention,
as we know at this day; but a flower so conspicuous, so eagerly demanded
and described, could not have been missed. As years went by, the red
Phalaenopsis became a joke. Interest degenerated into mockery.
As a matter of fact, it is very improbable that the plant had ever been in
Manila, or that a white man had beheld it. For it is found only in an
islet to the west of Mindanao, the most southerly of the Philippine group.
Mindanao itself is not yet explored, much less occupied, though the
Spaniards pushed farther and farther inland year by year. Seafaring
Tagalas may have visited that islet, and seen the red Phalaenopsis. When
they heard, at Manila, how an English duke had paid some fabulous amount
for a flower of the same genus, they would naturally mention it. And so
the legend grew.
In 1881, a score of years afterwards, the conquest of Mindanao was so far
advanced that the Spanish mail steamers called there. When Mr. Sander of
St. Albans heard this intelligence he thrilled with hope, as has been
told. Mr. Roebelin had instructions, of course, to inquire for the red
Phalaenopsis; Mr. Sander's experience teaches him that local rumours
should never be disregarded. But the search had been very close and very
long. Perhaps there was not another man in Europe who thought it possible
that the marvel could exist.
Mr. Roebelin is still living, I believe, and he could tell of some lively
adventures on that first visit to Mindanao. Constantly he heard of the red
Phalaenopsis; it was _en l'air_, he wrote, using the expression in two
senses. At the northern settlements they directed him south, at the
eastern, west, and so round the compass. But he had other matters in hand,
and contented himself with inquiries.
I do not learn whether it was accident or information which led him to the
little island Davao on his second visit, in 1883. He may have sailed
thither on chance, for a traveller is absolutely certain of finding new
plants on an untrodden shore in those seas. Anyhow Roebelin knew the quest
was over, the riddle solved triumphantly, before landing.
The half-breed Chinaman, Sam Choon, was personally conducting him on this
occasion also; he found the vessel (a native prau, of course), boatmen,
provisions, and the rest. Everything was at the collector's disposal; but
Sam Choon took a cargo of 'notions' on his own account, to trade when
opportunity arose.
Davao lies, I understand, some sixty miles from Mindanao. Its inhabitants
are Papuan thorough-bred, of the brown variety. Roebelin was deeply struck
with the appearance of the warriors who swarmed to the beach when his
intention of landing was understood. A body of men so tall and stalwart
can scarcely be found elsewhere, and for graceful carriage or activity
they could not be surpassed. A red clout was their only wear, besides
ornaments and weapons. They had the kinkled hair of the race (not wool),
bleached with lime, and dyed yellow. Very strange and pleasing is the
effect of these golden mops, lustrous if not clean, decked with plumes and
fresh flowers. But admiration came afterwards. When Roebelin saw the big
fellows mustering in haste, armed with spears and bows, stoneheaded maces
which the European soldier could scarcely wield, great swords set with
sharks' teeth, and outlandish tools of every sort for smashing and
tearing, he regarded the spectacle from another point of view. They ran
and leapt, brandishing their weapons, halloed and roared and sang, with
Papuan vivacity. The vessel approaching was too small to alarm them.
Laughter predominated in the uproar. But this was no comfort. Men are
cheerful with a feast in view.
Sam Choon, however, kept up his spirits. 'Them chaps make rumpus all
time,' he said. 'We see.' He held up a green bough shipped for the
purpose. It was all laughter now and gesticulation. Every Papuan tore a
branch from the shrubs around and waved it boisterously. 'Them no hurt,'
said Sam Choon. 'Good trade.' The Chinaman was as careful of his person as
one need be, and experienced in the ways of such people. Roebelin took
courage. As they neared the surf, the whole body of islanders rushed
towards them, splashed through the shallows whooping, dived beneath the
wave, and came up at the vessel's side. Ropes were tossed to them, and
they swam back again. But the first yellow head popped up just where
Roebelin was seated. Among the feathers twisted in it, draggled now, he
saw a spray--surely an Aerides! but bluish-red, unlike any species known.
The savage grinned and shouted, whirling the hair like an aureole around
his glistening face, threw one brawny arm into the air, and at a stroke
reached the bows. Another shot up; another. The sea was peopled in an
instant, all grinning and shouting breathlessly, all whirling their golden
locks. Among the flowers with which every head was decked, Roebelin saw
many Phalaenopsis. And most of them were ruddy!
Sam Choon lay to whilst the islanders swam ashore and formed a chain;
then, at a word, they ran up the beach full speed--making a noise, says
Roebelin, which reminded him of the earthquake he had lately felt.
Simultaneously the crew paddled their hardest, also yelling in the shrill
Chinese way. The prau sped like a flash, but half full of water. Beyond
the surf a mob seized and carried it ashore.
Papuans have no acquaintance with ceremony. Paying little attention to
their chiefs, they are not apt to discriminate among strangers. All alike
seized one of these new friends--who brought trade!---slapped him about
the body, and hugged him. Roebelin had been subjected to merciless
shampooing occasionally in Indian hammams; but he never felt the like of
that welcome. It was _massage_ by machinery.
The women had come on the scene now. Though they took no part, they
mingled with the warriors, and showed quite as much assurance as is
becoming. But they are not by any means such fine creatures as the men,
and they do not allow themselves--or they are not allowed--the curious
attraction of yellow hair. Roebelin noticed a few, however, worthy to be
helpmates of those superb animals; one girl in especial, nearly six feet
high, whose figure was a model, face pleasing and expressive, full of
character.
These people live in trees like the Subanos of Mindanao. As soon as his
baggage had been taken to the public hall, Roebelin got out beads, wire,
and Brummagem jewellery. The glimpse of that Aerides and the assurance of
a red Phalaenopsis made him impatient. But even Sam Choon found difficulty
in identifying the chiefs, to whom of course presents must be made before
business can open. However, the point interesting to Roebelin was settled
in an instant. The Phalaenopsis, they said, abounded within a few hundred
yards, and the Aerides was common enough. The white man wanted them for
medicine? He might have as many as he liked--on due payment. To-morrow the
chief would show him, and then a price must be fixed.
He slept in the hall, and at dawn he was more than ready. But early rising
is not a virtue of savages. To explore without permission would be
dangerous. Gradually the village woke to life. Men descended from their
quarters high in air, bathed, made their toilettes, and lounged about,
waiting for breakfast. Girls came down for water and returned, whilst
their mothers tidied the house. Smoke arose. In due time the men mounted,
ate, climbed down, and gathered in the public hall, where Sam Choon was
setting out a sample of his wares. Hours passed. But the chief's door
remained shut. No one passed out or in.
Roebelin saw people glance upwards with a grave air; but they showed no
surprise. He consulted Sam Choon, who had been too busy to notice.
All he said was, ''Spect chief get bad bird! Dam! All up this day!' And he
stopped his preparations.
So it proved to be--a fowl of black plumage had flown across just as the
door was opening. None of the chief's household came down that day. But
after negotiation some of the men led Roebelin to see the Phalaenopsis.
They grew in thousands over a brook close by, clinging to small trees. He
counted twenty-two plants, bearing more than a hundred flowers open, upon
a single trunk. Very curious is one point noticed. The Phalaenopsis always
grows on the northern side of its support, and always turns its flower
spike towards the southern side. It is a very bad species to travel. Of
the multitude which Roebelin gathered, not more than a hundred reached
Europe alive, and every collector since, I believe, has failed utterly.
Very few possessed his knowledge and experience.
That was Phalaenopsis Sanderiana; rather purple than red, but certainly
the flower so long sought. With the superb Aerides--now called A.
Roebelini--he was even less successful; it is only to be seen in a very
few collections of the highest class.
So the legend ends. But there is a funny little sequel. Sam Choon did well
with his 'notions.' After Mr. Roebelin's departure, he returned to Davao
and opened a promising branch of trade. To secure a permanent footing, he
thought it would be judicious to marry a daughter of the chief, and he
proposed for the giant beauty whom Roebelin had noticed on landing. The
father was astonished and amused, but finally indignant. A Chinaman,
however, though thrifty by habit and taste, does not count expense when
pleasure or business urge him, and both combined here. The chief wavered,
and took counsel of his elders. They also were astonished and indignant;
but Sam Choon found means to persuade them. So the young woman received
notice that she was to marry the Chinaman next day. Her remarks are not
chronicled. But there was much excitement among the bachelors and maidens
that evening, and presently a band of stalwart youths entered the hall
where Sam Choon sat with the chief--his father-in-law on the morrow. They
told the latter gravely that they disapproved of the match. Sam Choon
interposed with a statement of the advantages to follow, with equal
gravity. Then they threatened to smash every bone in his carcass. So the
marriage was broken off, but without ill-feeling on either side.
[Illustration: LÆLIA, GRANDIS, TENEBROSA. _WALTON GRANGE VARIETY._]
HYBRID CATTLEYAS AND LAELIAS
To right, in the Vanda House, are many hybrids of Cattleya and Laelia; but
we have many more, and it will be convenient to notice them all together
in this place. Some have not flowered yet, and therefore have received no
name; but even of these it is worth while to give the parentage, seeing
that there is no official record of hybridisation as yet. Mr. Rolfe at Kew
tries hard to keep pace with the enterprise of enthusiastic amateurs and
energetic professionals throughout the world. But comparatively few report
to him, and not every one files the _Orchid Review_. Thus it happens that
experiments carried to an issue long ago are continually repeated, in the
expectation of producing a novelty. The experimenter indeed loses nothing
save the credit he hoped to win. But in the scientific point of view time
is wasted and the confusion of names is increased. To contribute in my
small way towards an improvement in this state of things I give a list of
the Cattleya and Laelia hybrids at Woodlands, long though it be, and
uninteresting to the public at large; assured that it will be welcome to
those who study this most fascinating subject.
I may take the hybrids as they stand, with no methodical arrangement.
L.-C. means the product of a Laelia and a Cattleya, or, somewhat loosely,
of a Cattleya and a Laelia. C. × means the product of two Cattleyas; L. ×
of two Laelias.
_L.-C. Ancona_ (Catt. Harrisoniae × L. purpurata) represents each parent
almost equally, taking after Catt. Harrisoniae in colour and size of sepal
and petal; in general shape and in the hues of the labellum after L.
purpurata.
_L.-C. Nysa_ (L. crispa × Catt. Warcewiczii).--Pale mauve--the petals have
a sharp touch of crimson at the tips. Labellum all evenly crimson with a
narrow outline of white, gracefully frilled.
_L. × Measuresiana._--A natural hybrid, very rare, assumed to be the
product of L. elegans × L. purpurata. Rosy mauve. From the tube, very
long, the labellum opens squarely, purple, with a clouded throat and dusky
yellow 'eyes.'
_L.-C. Arnoldiana_ (L. purpurata × Catt. labiata). Large, clear mauve.
Petals much attenuated at the ends, which gives them a sort of 'fly-away'
appearance. The fine expanded lip, of carmine crimson, is clouded with a
deeper tint round the orange throat.
_L. × Claptonensis_ (L. elegans × L. Dormaniana).--Small, white with a
rosy flush. The long shovel lip is brilliantly crimson, fading to a white
edge.
_L.-C. amanda._--A natural hybrid of which Catt. intermedia is one parent,
L. Boothiana perhaps the other. Pale pink. The yellow throat and the
bright rosy lip show lines of deep crimson, strongly 'feathered' on either
side.
_L. × Gravesiae_ (L. crispa superba × L. praestans).--Small, rosy white.
The spade-like lip is magenta-crimson, wonderfully smooth and brilliant,
with two little yellow 'eyes' in the throat.
_L.-C. Tiresias_ (Catt. Bowringiana × L. elegans).--The petals are exactly
oval, saving pretty twirls and twists at the edges--soft bright mauve, the
narrow sepals paler. The funnel lip does not open wide, but in colour it
is like the richest and silkiest crimson velvet, almost maroon at the
throat; charmingly frilled and gauffered.
_C. × Portia._--Parents doubtful, but evidently Catt. Bowringiana is one
of them, Catt. labiata perhaps the other. Sepals and petals lively mauve,
the latter darker. The funnel of the lip brightest rose, disc of the
softest tenderest crimson imaginable, deepening against the pale yellowish
throat.
_L.-C. Tresederiana_ (Catt. Loddigesii × L. crispa superba).--Rather
curious than beautiful. The narrow petals and narrower sepals are pallid
violet; the labellum has a faintly yellow throat, and the dull purple disc
of Catt. crispa; not evenly coloured but in strong lines.
_C. × Mantinii nobilior_ (Catt. Bowringiana × Catt. aurea).--Raised by M.
Mantin. Delicious is a proper word for it--neat and graceful in shape,
rosy-crimson in colour. The lip opens widely, exquisitely veined with gold
within. It has a golden tinge on either side the throat, and a margin of
deeper crimson. The whole colouring is indescribably soft and tender.
_C. × Mantinii inversa_ represents the same parentage transposed (Catt.
aurea × Catt. Bowringiana).--Small like its mother, of brightest deepest
rose. The lip, loosely open above, swells to a fine expanse below, of
darker tint. Throat golden, charmingly scored with crimson-brown, like
aurea. The disc shows an arch of dark crimson on a rosy ground. It will be
seen that the influence of Bowringiana strongly predominates.
_C. × Chloris_ (Catt. Bowringiana × Catt. maxima) much resembles the
above. It is less brilliant, however; the lip does not open so freely, and
the arch mentioned, though even darker, is not so effective on a less
lively ground.
_L.-C. Fire Queen._--Parentage not recorded. I have not seen this flower,
nor even an account of it, but it received an Award of Merit, June 6,
1897.
_L.-C. Lady Wigan_ (L. purpurata Russelliana × Catt. Mossiae
aurea).--Dainty pink of sepal and petal. From the pale yellow throat issue
a number of crimson rays which darken to violet purple in the disc.
_C.-L. Parysatis_ (Catt. Bowringiana × L. pumila).--Rosy pink. The
funnel-shaped lip opens handsomely, showing a disc of soft crimson with a
white speck at the tip.
_L.-C. Robin Measures_ is assumed to be a natural hybrid of Laelia
xanthina × Catt. Regnieri, a variety of Catt. Schilleriana. Sepals and
petals smooth dainty green, the latter just touched with a suspicion of
purple at the tips. It has the shovel lip of Schilleriana, a yellow tube
and golden throat, from which descends a line of darkest crimson. The
ground-colour of the disc is white, but clouded with crimson-lake and
closely barred with dark crimson up to the white edge.
_L.-C. Bellairensis_ (Catt. Bowringiana × L. Goldiana).--So curiously like
L. autumnalis that a close observer even would take it for that species.
In shape, however, it is more graceful than the pink form, and in colour
much more pale than atro-rubens.
_L.-C. Tiresias superba_ (Catt. Bowringiana × L. elegans Turneri).--I
heard some one exclaim 'What a study in colour!' It is indeed, and in form
too--not large, but smoothly regular as pencil could draw. The sepals make
an exact triangle, delicate rosy purple, netted over with soft lines.
Petals broad and short, darker. Lip rather long, white in the throat with
a faintest stain of yellow, the disc and edges of the lobes glorious
crimson-purple, with a dark cloud above which stretches all up the throat.
A gem of beauty indescribable.
_C. × Browniae._--Bought as a hybrid of Catt. Bowringiana × Catt.
Loddigesii, but it shows no trace of either parent. Very pretty and odd,
however. The tiny little sepals are hardly seen, lost behind the huge
pink petals. The lip also has pink lobes above a gamboge throat, and a
bright crimson-purple disc.
_L.-C. Albanensis._--A natural hybrid, doubtless the product of L. grandis
× Catt. Warneri. Pale rosy-mauve, lip crimson, deepening as it expands,
but fading again towards the margin. A large and grand flower.
_L.-C. Aphrodite_ (Catt. Mendelii × L. purpurata).--Sepals and petals pure
white. Labellum deepest crimson with rosy tip.
_L. × Sanderae_ (L. xanthina × L. Dormaniana).--Sepals and petals crimson,
lip purplish rose.
_C. × Mariottiana_ (Catt. Eldorado × Catt. gigas).--Very pretty, dark
rose, lip bright crimson with yellow throat.
_L. × splendens_ (L. crispa × L. purpurata).--Pink. Lip crimson-purple,
edged with white, heavily fringed.
_C. × Atalanta_ (Catt. Leopoldii × Catt. Warcewiczii).--Large and waxy.
Sepals and petals rose veined with crimson, lip bright magenta.
_L.-C. excellens_ (Catt. gigas ocullata × L. purpurata Brysiana).--A
superb flower, very large, rosy mauve, lip crimson.
_L.-C. Amazon_ (Catt. maxima × L. purpurata).--Sepals and petals softly
flushed, lip much darker in tone, veined with crimson.
_C. × Prince of Wales_ (Catt. fimbriata × Catt. Wageneri).--White. The lip
amethyst, veined with rose and frilled; throat golden.
_C. × Kienastiana_ (Catt. Luddemanniana × Catt. aurea).--Sepals flushed
white, petals warm lilac, the veins paler; magenta lip with shadings of
orange and lilac towards the edge and a white margin.
_L.-C. Hon. Mrs. Astor_ (Catt. Gaskelliana × L. xanthina).--Sepals clear
yellow, petals white with a sulphur tinge; throat golden yellow veined
with purple, disc rose, veined with crimson and edged with lilac.
_L.-C. Broomfieldensis_ (Catt. aurea-chrysotoxa × L. pumila
Dayana).--Mauve. The lip deep crimson, gracefully frilled; the throat has
crimson and gold markings on a purple ground.
_C. × Fowleri_ (Catt. Leopoldii × Catt. Hardyana).--Rosy lilac, lip
crimson. The side lobes are white tipped with crimson.
_C. × Miss Measures_ (Catt. speciosissima × Catt. velutina).--Pretty
mauve-pink with darker lines. Golden throat, lip crimson veined with
purple.
_C. × William Murray_ (Catt. Mendelii × Catt. Lawrenceana).--Rosy with a
purple tinge. Throat veined with orange and purple, lip purple-crimson.
_L.-C. C.-G. Roebling_ (L. purpurata alba × Catt. Gaskelliana).--Sepals
and petals flushed, lip deepest violet, suffused with crimson and edged
with white.
_L.-C. D. S. Brown_ (Catt. Trianae × L. elegans).--Soft pink, throat
yellow with a brownish tinge, lip carmine-crimson.
_L.-C. Mardellii fascinator_ (L. elegans Turneri × Catt.
speciosissima).--Mauve. Throat yellow, darkening to orange in front, lip
purple-crimson.
_L.-C. callistoglossa_ (L. purpurata × Catt. gigas).--Sepals pale rosy
mauve, petals darker. Throat yellow streaked with purple; lip purple.
_L.-C. callistoglossa ignescens_ (Catt. gigas × L. purpurata).--Sepals
rosy lilac, petals a deeper shade, lip glowing purple.
_L. × Latona_ (L. purpurata × L. cinnabarina).--Pale orange. Lip whitish
at the base, the disc crimson bordered with orange.
_L.-C. Decia_ (L. Perrinii × Catt. aurea).--Pale violet, deepening
towards the tips. Lip crimson, streaked with white on the side lobes, with
white and rosy purple on the disc.
_L.-C. Eudora_ (Catt. Mendelii × L. purpurata).--Rosy purple. Lip deepest
crimson shaded with maroon.
_L.-C. Eudora alba_ (L. purpurata alba × Catt. Mendelii).--Ivory white.
Lip crimson with purple shadings.
_L.-C. Hippolyta_ (Catt. Mossiae × L. cinnabarina).--Bright orange with a
rosy purplish tinge. The lip red-purple, much frilled.
_L.-C. Zephyra_ (Catt. Mendelii × L. xanthina).--All Nankin yellow except
the crimson disc, which has a pale margin.
_L.-C. Amesiana_ (L. crispa × Catt. maxima).--White washed with amethyst.
Lip purple-crimson fading towards the margin.
_L.-C. Exoniensis_ (Catt. Mossiae × L. crispa).--White flushed with rosy
mauve. Lip purple-crimson.
_L. × Yula_ (L. cinnabarina × L. purpurata).--Scarcely larger than
cinnabarina, bright orange, the petals veined and flushed with crimson.
The lip of size proportionate--that is, small--shows more of the purpurata
influence in its bright crimson disc.
_L. × Yula inversa_ (L. purpurata × L. cinnabarina).--The same parentage
but transposed. More than twice as large as the other and spreading, but
thin. Sepals of the liveliest orange, petals agreeably tinged with purple.
On the long narrow lip this pink shade deepens almost to red. Upon the
whole, neither of them is to be commended for its own sake, but the
brilliant orange of cinnabarina is retained so perfectly that both will
prove valuable for hybridising.
_C. × Our Queen_ (Catt. Mendelii × unknown).--Sepals and petals white,
faintly flushed. In the throat, of brightest yellow, are several brown
lines. The upper part of the lip is crimson, the disc purple.
_L.-C. Empress of India_ (L. purpurata Brysiana × Catt. Dowiana).--Sepals
and petals rose, tinged with violet at the ends, lip large, spreading, of
the richest crimson-purple.
_L.-C. Leucoglossa_ (Catt. Loddigesii × L.-C. fausta).--Rose-pink. Lip
white, touched with yellow in the throat.
_L.-C. Henry Greenwood_ (L.-C. Schilleriana × Catt. Hardyana).--Sepals and
petals cream-coloured, tinged with pink, the latter veined with rosy
purple. Lip purple with yellow throat.
_L.-C. Canhamiana_ (Catt. Mossiae × L. purpurata).--White tinged with
mauve. Lip crimson-purple, with a narrow white margin, crisped.
_L.-C. Pallas superba_ (L. crispa × Catt. aurea).--Dark rose. Lip purple
in the throat, golden in the disc, finely striped with crimson.
_C. × Wendlandiana_ (Catt. Bowringiana × Catt. gigas).--Bright soft rose,
lip purple-crimson with two yellow 'eyes' beneath the tube.
_C. × Cecilia_ (Catt. Lawrenceana × Catt. Trianae).--Sepals and petals
deep violet, throat buff changing to violet, disc purple.
_C. × Louis Chaton_ (Catt. Trianae × Catt. Lawrenceana--the same parentage
as Cecilia but reversed).--A most successful combination. Fine in shape,
petals soft rosy mauve, sepals paler, and superb crimson lip, with the
yellow of Trianae strongly expressed in the throat.
_C. O'Brieniana._--A natural hybrid of Catt. Loddigesii and Catt.
Walkeriana apparently; pale mauve; lip yellow.
_L.-C. Miss Lily Measures_ (L.-C. Arnoldiana × Gottoiana).--Very large.
Sepals and petals dark rose; lip rosy purple.
_L.-C. velutino-elegans_ (Catt. velutina × L. elegans).--Sepals and petals
white with a yellow tinge, veined with rose. At the throat an orange
blotch. Lip darkest crimson with white veins.
I append a list of hybrid seedlings which have not yet flowered and
therefore have received no name as yet. It will be useful only to those
who practise the fascinating art of Hybridisation. But such are a
multitude already, and each year their numbers swell.
Cattleya labiata × Catt. Bowringiana.
" Mendelii × L. xanthina.
" Warnerii × L. Euterpe.
" Bowringiana × Catt. Hardyana.
" " × Sophronitis grandiflora.
" labiata × Catt. Brymeriana.
" Gaskelliana × Catt. Harrisoniae violacea.
" labiata × L. Perrinii.
" Bowringiana × L. Perrinii.
" granulosa × Catt. gigas Sanderae.
" amethystoglossa × Catt. Trianae Osmanii.
" labiata × L. Gravesiae.
" Bowringiana × Catt. Leopoldii.
" Schofieldiana × Catt. Schroderae.
" Schroderae × L. elegans.
" Harrisoniae × Catt. Hardyana.
" Bowringiana × L.-C. Clive.
" labiata × Catt. Brymeriana.
" Gaskelliana × Catt. Hardyana.
" Schroderae × L. grandis.
" granulosa × Catt. gigas.
" Gaskelliana × L. crispa.
" Mossiae × L. purpurata Schroderae.
" Leopoldii × L. crispa superba.
" Leopoldii × Catt. Harrisoniae violacea.
Laelia tenebrosa × Catt. gigas Sanderae.
" harpophylla × L. elegans Blenheimensis.
" cinnabarina × Catt. Skinnerii.
" tenebrosa × L.-C. Phoebe.
" " × Catt. Mossiae aurea.
" praestans × Catt. Lord Rothschild.
" Dayanum × Catt. labiata.
" cinnabarina × Catt. Trianae var. Mary Ames.
" purpurata × L. grandis.
" " × Catt. Schroderae.
" amanda × Catt. aurea.
" purpurata Schroderae × Catt. Mossiae aurea.
" Lucasiana × L. elegans Schilleriana.
" elegans × Catt. Mossiae.
" crispa × Catt. aurea.
" purpurata × Catt. Hardyana.
" " × Catt. Mossiae.
" tenebrosa × Catt. Warnerii.
" " × Catt. Mendelii.
" elegans × Catt. gigas.
Beyond the hybrids are twenty plants of white Cattleya intermedia. The
owner of our collection was first among mortals, in Europe at least, to
behold that marvel of chaste loveliness. Mr. Sander received a plant of
intermedia from Brazil, which the collector labelled 'white.' Albino
Cattleyas were few then, and Roezl alone perhaps ventured to imagine that
every red species had a white sister. So they took little notice of the
label at St. Albans. When Mr. Measures paid a visit, it was even shown to
him as an example of the reckless statements forwarded by collectors. He,
however, in a sporting mood, offered ten guineas, and Mr. Sander gladly
accepted, but under a written proviso that he guaranteed nothing at all.
And in due time Cattleya intermedia Parthenia appeared, to astonish and
delight the universe. Several other albino forms have turned up since, all
of which are represented here, but Parthenia remains the finest--snowy
white, with a very long lip, which scarcely expands beyond the tube. That
is to say, 'the books' describe it as snowy white. A careful observer will
remark the faintest possible tinge of purple in the throat.
We have also a natural hybrid, Catt. Louryana, which the learned dubiously
assign to intermedia alba × bicolor; all white saving the lip, which is
mauve-pink with darker lines.
Among other albino rarities here is the charming L. praestans alba, pure
as snow but for a plum-coloured edging round the upper portion of the lip.
_L. Perrinii alba_--stainless throughout. This exquisite variety also
appeared for the first time in our collection.
_L. Perrinii nivea_--not less beautiful assuredly, though it has the
imperfection, as an albino, of a pale pink labellum and a yellow throat.
Beyond these rise twenty-five stately plants of Angraecum sesquipedale,
which we are learning to call Aeranthus sesquipedalis. There are those who
do not value the marvel, though none but the blind surely can fail to
admire it. In truth, like other giants, it does not readily lend itself to
any useful purpose. I think I could design a wreath of Angraecum
sesquipedale which would put jewelled coronets to shame; but for a bouquet
or for the dress or for table decoration, it is equally unsuited.
Wherefore the ladies give a glance of wonder at its ten-inch 'tail' and
pass by, calling it, as I have heard with my own ears, a vegetable
starfish. At Woodlands happily there are other flowers enough for a
'regiment of women,' as John Knox rudely put it, and they do not grudge
the room which these noble plants occupy.
A LEGEND OF MADAGASCAR
I must not name the leading personage in this sad story. Though
twenty-five years have gone by since he met his fate, there are still
those who mourn for him. Could it be supposed that my report would come to
the knowledge of two among them, old people dwelling modestly in a small
French town, I should not publish it. For they have never heard the truth.
Those kindly and thoughtful comrades of Alcide Leboeuf--so to name
him--who transmitted the news of his death, described it as an accident.
But the French Consul at Tamatave sent a brief statement privately to the
late Mr. Cutter, of Great Russell Street, in whose employ Leboeuf was
travelling, that he might warn any future collectors.
M. Leon Humblot has told how he and his brother once entertained six
guests at Tamatave; within twelve months he alone survived. So deadly is
that climate. Alcide Leboeuf was one of the six, but he perished by the
hand of man. The poor fellow was half English by blood, and wholly English
by education. His father, I believe, stuffed birds and sold 'curiosities'
at a small shop in the East End. At an early age the boy took to
'collecting' as a business. He travelled for Mr. Cutter in various lands,
seeking rare birds and insects, and he did his work well, though subject
to fits of hard drinking from time to time.
At the shop in Great Russell Street, after a while, he made acquaintance
with that admirable collector Crossley, whose stories of Madagascar fired
his imagination. Mr. Cutter was loath to send out a man of such unsteady
character. The perils of that awful climate were not so well understood,
perhaps, twenty-five years ago, but enough was known to make an employer
hesitate. Crossley had been shipwrecked on the coast, had lived years with
the natives, learned their language, and learned also to adopt their
habits while journeying among them. But Leboeuf would not be daunted. A
giant in stature--over seven feet, they say--of strength proportionate,
not inexperienced in wild travel but never conscious of ache or pain, he
mocked at danger. When Crossley refused to take an untried man into the
swamps of Madagascar, he vowed he would go alone. That is, indeed, the
most fascinating of all lands to an enthusiast even now, when we are
assured that the Epyornis, the mammoth of birds, is extinct. At that time
there was no good reason to doubt the unanimous assertion of the natives
that it still lived. Crossley was so confident that he neglected to buy
eggs badly shattered, waiting for perfect specimens. His scruples were
'bad business' for Mr. Cutter, as that gentleman lived to see, but they
appeared judicious at the time. Fragments of Epyornis egg, slung on cords,
were the vessels generally used in some parts for carrying water--are
still perhaps. Besides this, endless marvels were reported, some of which
have been secured in these days. Briefly, the young man was determined to
go, and Mr. Cutter gave him a commission.
Thus Leboeuf made one of M. Humblot's guests at Tamatave. Another was
Mr. Wilson, the only orchid collector there; for M. Humblot did not feel
much interest in those plants, I believe, at the time. I have not been
able to learn anything about Wilson's antecedents. His diary, upon which
this narrative is framed, was lying about at Tamatave for years; we may
conclude, perhaps, that the French Consul did not know to whom it should
be forwarded--there was no English Consul. Probably Wilson travelled on
his own account; certainly none of the great orchid merchants employed
him. He was young and inexperienced; glad to attach himself, no doubt, to
a big and self-confident old hand like Leboeuf.
Some weeks or months afterwards we find the pair at a large village called
Malela, which lies at the foot of Ambohimiangavo, apparently a well-known
mountain. Ellis mentions it, I observe, but only by name, as the richest
iron district of the Central Provinces. They had had some trouble on the
way. Among the hints and instructions which Crossley furnished, one in
especial counselled Leboeuf to abstain from shooting in the
neighbourhood of houses. Each tribe, he wrote, holds some living creature
sacred--it may be a beast or a bird, a reptile, or even an insect. 'These
must not be hurt within the territory of such tribe; the natives will
readily inform you which they are. But, in addition, each village commonly
has its sacred creature, and it will be highly dangerous to shoot until
you have identified the object. As you do not speak the language you had
very much better make it a rule not to shoot anything on cultivated
ground.'
This was not a man to heed fantastic warnings, but he learned prudence
before they had gone too far into the wilds. At a short distance from
Tamatave, in a field of sugar-cane, Leboeuf saw a beautiful bird, new to
him, which had a tuft of feathers on each side the beak--so Wilson
described it. He followed and secured the prize. The semi-civilised
natives with them paid no attention. But when, an hour later, surrounded
by the people of the village, he took out his bird to skin, there was a
sudden tumult. The women and children ran away screaming, the men rushed
for their weapons. But collectors were not unfamiliar beings, if
incomprehensible, so near the port. After some anxious moments, the
headmen or priests consented to take a heavy fine, and drove them from the
spot.
Their arrival at Malela had been announced, of course, and they found an
uproarious welcome. All the people of the neighbourhood were assembling
for a great feast. While their men built a hut of branches outside the
fortifications--for no house was unoccupied--they sat beneath the trees in
the central space. Such was the excitement that even white visitors
scarcely commanded notice. Chief after chief arrived, sitting crosswise in
an ornamented hammock--not lying--his folded arms resting on the bamboo by
which it was suspended. A train of spearmen pressed behind him. They
marched round the square, displaying their magnificence to the admiration
of the crowd, and dismounted at the Prince's door--if that was his
title--leaving their retainers outside. The mob of spearmen there numbered
hundreds, the common folk thousands, arrayed in their glossiest and
showiest lambas of silk or cotton. No small proportion of them were
beating tom-toms; others played on the native flutes and fiddles; all
shouted. The row was deafening. But doubtless it was a brilliant
spectacle.
One part of the vast square, however, remained empty. Beneath a fine tree
stood three posts firmly planted. They were nine or ten feet high, squared
and polished, each branching at the top into four limbs; tree trunks, in
fact, chosen for the regularity of their growth. In front was a very large
stone, unworked, standing several feet above the ground. The travellers
were familiar with these objects now. They recognised the curious idols of
the country and their altar. On each side of the overshadowing tree
barrels were ranged, one on tap, and another waiting its turn. This also
they recognised. However savage the inland population, however ignorant
of the white man's arts, all contrived even then to transport puncheons of
rum through swamp and jungle for occasions like this. Now and again
persons distinguished from the throng by costlier dress and ornaments were
escorted to the spot and they drank with ceremonies. Wilson did not like
the prospect. His companion had broken loose once before under a similar
temptation. But there was no help.
Presently the Chamberlain, so to call him, approached with a number of
officers, and invited them to attend the Prince. They found that potentate
sitting at the end of a long file of chiefs. The floor of the hall was
covered with snowy mats, which set off the beauty of their many-coloured
robes. Beside the Prince squatted a pleasant-looking man in pink vest and
white lamba. He wore a broad-brimmed hat of silky felt, black, with a band
of gold lace, contrasting at every point with the showily-dressed chiefs
around. This, they knew, must be the high priest, the Sikidy. The Prince
received them courteously, but since their interpreter knew but little
French, and less, as it seems, of the language of this tribe,
communication was limited to the forms of politeness. Then slaves brought
in the feast, setting great iron dishes on the mats all along the row.
Simultaneously the band struck up, and women began singing at the top of
their voices.
The heat, the smell, the noise, the excitement of the scene were
intoxicating without alcohol. But rum flowed literally in buckets, and
palm wine several days old, which is even stronger. Wilson ventured to
urge caution after a while, and at length Leboeuf tore himself away. Men
came and went all the time, so their departure was unnoticed.
They reached the hut of boughs, now finished. Leboeuf threw himself down
and slept; relieved of anxiety, Wilson set off to gather orchids. Malela
appears to be a fine hunting-ground for collectors, but he only mentions
the fact to explain his imprudence in leaving Leboeuf for some hours.
The latter woke, found himself quite alone--for all the servants were
merry-making, of course--and he also started off collecting. Unfortunately
he traversed the village. And some of the chiefs took him in a friendly
spirit to the barrel under the tree.
Wilson was returning--happy with a load of new orchids maybe--when he
heard a shot, followed by a clamour of young voices. Next instant a swarm
of children burst from the forest, and ran screaming across the open
ground. Wilson had heard that cry before. His blood chilled. If the men of
the other village were furious, how would it be with these drunken
savages! He hurried to the spot whence the children had emerged.
As their voices died away he became conscious of shouting--an exultant
tone. It was Leboeuf. They met in the outskirts of the wood. At sight of
Wilson he bawled--
'Hi, young un! got any weeds to sell? Give you tuppence for the lot.
Pretty flowers--all a-blowing and a-growing! Take 'em to the missus! The
ladies loves you chaps. I say, what'll old Cutter look like when he sees
_that_?' Leboeuf threw down an animal which he carried on his shoulder,
and danced round it, shouting and laughing.
It was a small creature, brownish grey, with enormous ears very human in
shape, long skeleton hands, and a bushy tail thicker than a lady's boa. By
that and the ears Wilson recognised the Madagascar sloth, rarest of all
animals then in museums, and very rare still. He had no particular reason
to suspect that the natives reverenced it, but a beast so eerie in
appearance and habits might well be thought sacred.
He implored Leboeuf to leave it and come away; Leboeuf did not even
listen. After dancing and roaring till he was tired he picked up the
aye-aye and marched on, talking loud.
Thus they did not hear the noise of a multitude approaching. But from the
edge of the forest they saw it. Chiefs led the van, stumbling and
staggering; among the foremost was that personage in snowy lamba and broad
black hat--not pleasant-looking now. A mob of spearmen pressed behind. The
clearing was a compact mass of natives, running, wailing,
gesticulating--and they still streamed in thousands through the narrow
gate. It was like the rush of ants when their nest is disturbed.
The sight paralysed even Leboeuf; Wilson, after an awful glance, ran
back and hid. He could hear his comrade's shouts above the uproar for a
moment--then there was a pause, and the interpreter's voice reached him
faintly. Wilson still crept away. He heard only a confused clamour for
some minutes, but then a burst of vengeful triumph made the forest ring.
It needed no explanation. Leboeuf was overpowered. The noise grew
fainter--they were dragging him away--and ceased.
For hours Wilson lay in an agony of fear. That Leboeuf was killed he did
not doubt; but how could he himself escape, alone in the forest, ignorant
of the roads, many weeks journey from the coast? A more cruel fate would
probably be his. It might be hoped that Leboeuf's tortures had been
short.
He did not dare push deeper into the wood; his single chance lay in
creeping round the village after dark, and possibly rejoining his
servants, if they still lived. If not, he might recover the road at least.
But man could not be in more desperate straits.
Remaining thus in the vicinity, towards dusk he heard a whistle far off.
The frenzy of his relief is not to be described--it was the rallying
signal of the party. But suppose the enemy used this device to ensnare
him? It might be! And yet--there was the hope. At worst they would give
him a speedy death. He answered. Gradually the searchers drew near. They
were his own men, led by the interpreter.
Wilson could not speak French, but he grasped that the natives would not
harm him. Leboeuf?--It was almost a comfort that he could not understand
precisely. The interpreter's pantomime suggested an awful fate. Leboeuf
stood at bay with his gun, and the chiefs held him in parley while men
crept through the brushwood. They threw a lasso from behind, and dragged
him down. He was borne to the square, and after dread ceremonies which
Wilson shuddered to comprehend, laid upon the altar.
In a maze of horror and anxiety he entered the village. It was not yet
dark. But of all the multitude swarming there some hours before not a soul
was visible. They had not left; every house resounded with the hum of many
voices--low, and, as it seemed to Wilson, praying. The square also was
deserted; upon the high stone altar he saw a shapeless mass from which
small wreaths of smoke still curled.
That was the fate of poor Leboeuf. The same night Wilson was seized by
fever. He struggled on, but died within a few hours' march of Tamatave.
LAELIA PURPURATA
The next house is given up to L. purpurata with some L. grandis tenebrosa
intermixed. Not much can be said of the latter species. Its extraordinary
colour is best described as madder-brown, but here we have a variety of
which the ends of the sepal and petal are yellowish. The broad lip, dull
purple, has a madder-brown cloud at its throat, whence lines of the same
hue proceed to the edges all round. The value of L. tenebrosa for
hybridising needs no demonstration--it introduces a colour unique, of
which not a trace can be found elsewhere. But as for the flower itself, I
protest that it is downright ugly. This is _à propos_ of nothing at all.
_Liberavi animam meam._
It is always difficult to realise that an orchid of the grand class is a
weed. All our conventional notions of a flower revolt against the
proposition. I have remarked that it seems specially absurd to an
ingenuous friend, if one recall the fact while he contemplates Laelia
purpurata. That majestic thing, so perfect in colour and shape, so
delicately finished--a weed! So it is, nevertheless, as lightly regarded
by Nature or by man in its native home as groundsel is by us. The Indians
of Central America love their forest flowers passionately. So do those in
the north of the Southern Continent. But I never heard that the Indians of
Brazil showed a sign of such intelligence. The most glorious Cattleyas to
them are what a primrose was to Peter Bell.
The obvious, unquestionable truth that Laelia purpurata is nothing but a
weed has suggested some unorthodox thoughts, as I considered it,
'pottering about' my houses. This is not the place to set them down at
length. But we have reached a less important part of the collection; I may
chatter for a moment.
All things are grandest in the hot zone, from mountains to plagues.
Excepting the Mississippi and the Yang-tse-Kiang, all the mightiest rivers
even are there. We have no elephants, nor lions, nor anacondas; no tapong
trees three hundred feet high, nor ceibas almost as tall; no butterflies
ten inches across, no storms that lay a province waste and kill fifty
thousand mortals. Further, all things that are most beautiful dwell within
the Tropics--tigers, giraffes, palm-trees, fish, snakes, insects, flowers.
Further still, the most intelligent of beasts are there--apes and monkeys.
It may well be doubted whether man, the animal, is an exception. In this
very country of Brazil, Wallace found among the Indians 'a development of
the chest such as never exists, I believe, in the best-formed European.'
No race of the Temperate Zone approaches the Kroomen in muscular force,
and negroes generally are superior. The strength of the Borneo Dyaks I
myself have noted with amazement. Black Papuans are giants, and the brown
variety excel any white race in vigour. The exception is that most
interesting Negrito strain, represented by a few thousands here and there
from Ceylon to the Philippines. But even they, so small and wretched, have
marvellous strength.
Thus all natural things rise to their highest level in the hot zones--I
have to put the case very roughly, for this is a monstrous digression.
Does it not seem to follow that man should rise to his highest level
there? The aborigines are savages mostly and ever have been; no people of
whom we have record has become civilised unless by an impulse from
without, and none could reach the bulk of these. But India shows that the
brain, as the form, of man may develop to perfection under the hottest
sky. Therefore, to end this brief excursus, I conclude that as the
tropical weed Laelia purpurata is more majestic and more beautiful than
our weeds, so will tropic man some day rise to a height of majesty
unattainable in our zone.
But the reader has had enough of it--and so have I; for to crowd a volume
of facts and arguments into a paragraph is irritating labour. Let us get
back to business. Here are some of our finest varieties of L. purpurata.
_Marginata._--White of sepal and petal. It takes its name from the white
margin surrounding the crimson purple lip. Very striking also is a large
white triangle upon the disc, charmingly netted over with crimson.
_Archduchess_ is faintly rosy. The lobes, closely folded, are deepest
purple-crimson, over an orange throat. On either side the dark central
line of the labellum is a pale blur.
_Macfarlanei._--Sepals and petals very narrow, of a clear rose tint, with
darker lines. A patch almost white in the front of the dark crimson lip.
_Lowiana._--Petals rose, sepals paler. The tube is not large, but it, and
also the labellum, could not be darker if still to be classed as crimson.
Even the yellow of the throat is obscured, but there is a lighter blotch
at the tip.
_Tenebrosa._--The name is due apparently to branching lines of deep maroon
which intersect the crimson lip. Petals and sepals are white, and there is
a white patch on the labellum.
THE DENDROBIUM HOUSE
is the last in this series, where we see the usual varieties in
perfection; there are pseudo-bulbs of Wardianum more than 4 feet long. At
the present day, however, orchidists will not look at 'usual varieties' of
Dendrobium with patience--nobile, cupreum, fimbriatum, thyrsiflorum, etc.
etc. etc. They are exquisitely lovely, of course. Examine them as often as
you will, new marvels of beauty appear. The fact is that most experts
never do examine these common things; they look about for varieties. Such
blasé souls can be accommodated, if needful. Here are specimens of _nobile
album_, all white save the deep crimson blotch and a faint yellowish tinge
upon the lip; _nobile virginale_, which has lost even this trace of
colour; _nobile murrhinianum_, very rare, understood to be a hybrid with
Wardianum, snow white, the tips of sepal, petal and lip purple, and a
great purple blotch in the throat; _nobile Cooksoni_, no hybrid, but a
sport, in which the ordinary colouring of the lip is repeated in the
petals; _nobile Ruckerianum_, very large, the deep blotch on the lip
bordered with white; _nobile splendens grandiflorum_, an enlarged and
intensified form of the type.
Of hybrids I may name _Leechianum_ (nobile × aureum), white, sepals,
petals, and lip tipped with rosy purple, the great blotch on the disc
crimson with a golden tinge. _Ainsworthii_, of the same parentage and very
similar, but the blotch is wine-colour. _Schneiderianum_ (Findleyanum ×
aureum), bearing white sepals, petals and lip tipped with rosy purple,
throat orange, similarly striped.
Here are several 'specimens' of Epidendrum radicans, a tangle of fresh
green roots and young shoots of green still more fresh and tender,
pleasant to look upon even though not flowering; but verdant pillars set
with tongues of flame at the right season. And an interesting hybrid of
it, _Epidendrum × radico-vitellinum_ (radicans × vitellinum),--brightest
orange, the lip almost scarlet, with three yellow keels upon the disc;
very pretty and effective.
Besides, we have here a Spathoglottis hybrid, _aureo-Veillardii_, _Wigan's
var._ (Kimballiana × Veillardii),--most charming of all the charming
family. Golden--the sepals tinged, and the petals thickly dotted with
crimson; lip crimson and yellow.
STORY OF DENDROBIUM SCHRÖDERIANUM
Many who care nothing for our pleasant science recall the chatter and
bustle which greeted the reappearance of Dendrobium Schröderianum in 1891.
For they spread far beyond the 'horticultural circles.' Every newspaper in
the realm gave some sort of a report, and a multitude of my confrères were
summoned to spin out a column, from such stores of ingenuity as they could
find, upon a plant which grew on human skulls and travelled under charge
of tutelary idols. The scene at 'Protheroe's' was a renewal of the good
old time when every season brought its noble plant, and every plant
brought out its noble price--in short, a sensation.
The variety of Dendrobium phalaenopsis hereafter to bear Baron Schröder's
name was sent to Kew by Forbes about 1857. This single plant remained a
special trophy of the Royal Gardens for many years. It throve and
multiplied. In course of time Sir Joseph Hooker was able to give a small
piece, in exchange for other varieties, to Mr. Day, of Tottenham, to Baron
Schröder, and to Messrs. Veitch. The latter sold their specimen to Baron
Schröder; Mr. Day's collection was dispersed, and the same greatest of
amateurs bought his fragment. Thus all three plants known to exist in
private hands came into Baron Schröder's possession, and the variety took
his name.
This state of things lasted ten years. Mr. Sander then resolved to wait no
longer upon chance. He studied the route of Forbes's travels, consulted
the authorities at Kew, and, with their aid, came to a conclusion. In 1890
my friend Mr. Micholitz went out to seek Dendrobium Schröderianum in its
native wilds.
The man of sense who finds a treasure does not proclaim the spot till he
has filled his pockets, nor even, if it may be, till he has cleared out
the hoard. It is universally understood that Micholitz discovered the
object of his quest in New Guinea. If that error encouraged the
exploration of a most interesting island, as I hear, it has done a public
service. And the explorers have not wasted their time. They did not fall
in with Dendrobium Schröderianum, because it was not there; but they
secured other valuable things. Very shortly now the true habitat will be
declared. Meantime I must only say that it is one of the wildest of those
many 'Summer Isles of Eden' which stud the Australasian Sea.
Micholitz arrived in a trading-vessel, the captain of which was trusted by
the natives. Under that protection the chiefs allowed him to explore,
agreeing to furnish men and canoes--for a consideration, naturally. Their
power did not stretch beyond a few miles of coast; the neighbours on each
side were unfriendly, or at least distrusted; and bitterly hostile tribes
lay beyond--hostile, that is, to the people among whom Micholitz landed.
All alike are head-hunters, and all charge one another with
cannibalism--but falsely in every case, I understand.
The field was narrow, therefore, and uncommonly perilous, for the
best-intentioned of these islanders cannot always resist the impulse to
crown their trophies with a white man's head--as the Captain assured
Micholitz day by day with an earnestness which became oppressive after a
while. But he was very lucky--or rather the probabilities had been studied
so thoughtfully before any step was taken that he sailed to the very
island. I do not mean that it is wonderful to find an orchid on the first
day's search when once its habitat is known. Dendrobiums cover a great
tract of land. It is the nicety of calculation ten thousand miles away
which should be admired.
There were no plants, however, just around the little port. After some
days spent in making arrangements, Micholitz received an intimation that
the chiefs were going to a feast and he might accompany them; there is no
lack of interpreters on that coast, whence so many poor wretches are
enticed to English or French colonies--some of whom return nowadays. The
Captain could not go. In refusing he looked at Micholitz with a quizzical,
hesitating air, as though inclined to make a revelation.
'Is there any danger?' Micholitz asked.
'Oh no! not a bit!--not a bit of danger! I answer for that. You'll be
amused, I daresay. They're rum chaps.'
The chance of making a trip beyond the narrow friendly area in safety was
welcome, and at daylight he started with the chiefs. It was but a few
hours' paddling--to the next bay. The feast was given, as is usual, to
celebrate the launch of a war-prau. In martial panoply the guests
embarked, paint and feathers, spears and clubs. They were met by their
hosts in the same guise upon the beach. After ceremonies probably--but I
have no description--all squatted down in a circle, and a personage,
assumed to be the priest, howled for a while. Then the warriors began to
dance, two by two. It was very wearisome, and besides, very hot. Micholitz
asked at length whether he might leave. The interpreter said there was no
objection. He walked towards the forest, which stood some distance back,
even as a wall, skirting the snowy beach. The grey huts of the village
glimmered among palms and fruit-trees on one hand.
A sunken way had been dug from the edge of the surf to a long low building
a hundred yards back; within it lay the prau doubtless, ready to be
launched. Micholitz skirted this channel. He noticed a curious group of
persons sitting apart--an old man, two women, a boy, and a girl. The
elders were squatting motionless upon the sand, so bowed that the long
wool drooping hid their faces; the children lay with their heads in the
women's laps. None looked up; in passing he observed that these latter
were bound.
The boat-house--so to call it--spanning the channel, was a hundred feet
long, built of palm thatch, with substantial posts at due distance. As he
walked along it, Micholitz became aware of an unpleasant smell. It was not
strong. But in turning the further corner he marked a great purple stain
upon the sand. Flies clustered thick there. It was blood. And then, upon
the wall of thatch above, and the corner post, he traced the stain
streaming broadly down. He looked to the other angle. The horrid mark was
there also. They could not see him from the beach. Easily he parted the
crackling palm leaves, and thrust in his head. At a few feet distance rose
the lofty stern-post, carved and painted, with two broad shells glistening
like eyes in the twilight. No more could he see, dazzled by the glare
outside. That passed. He turned to the right hand-and drew back with a
cry. A naked corpse, with head hanging on its chest, was bound to the
corner post--the same to left.
Poor Micholitz felt sick. He ran from the cursed spot. So glowing was the
sunlight round, so sweet and soft the shadow of the near forest--and those
awful things in the midst! The old hymn rang in his ears--
Where every prospect pleases
And only man is vile.
He hurried towards the trees.
An outburst of yells and laughter made him turn. The circle had broken
up. A swarm of warriors danced towards the boat-house--tore down the
walls; in an instant the posts stood naked--with their burdens. Chiefs
climbed aboard the prau and mustered, with tossing feathers, brandishing
their arms, shouting and singing, on its deck. Ropes were manned. Scores
of brawny savages started at a run, whilst the boys howled with delight
and tumbled over one another. The great vessel moved, quickened. Then a
party rushed upon that little group, trampling it under foot, snatched up
the boy and girl, and sped with them towards the sea. The old man and
women lay where they were tossed: there was no help for them in earth or
heaven. The prau glided quicker and quicker amidst a roaring tumult. As it
neared the sea, those small victims, tossed aloft from either side, fell
across its course. Micholitz looked no more.
'Let me attend to my business, for God's sake!' he kept repeating.
But when he reached the trees his business was done. Those horrors had so
disconcerted him that for an instant he saw long green stems of orchid
perched upon the boughs without regarding them. But here was one from the
top of which depended a cluster of rosy garlands, four or five, bearing a
dozen, or twenty, or thirty great flowers, all open; and there a cluster
snow-white--a crimson one beyond, darkening almost to purple. Dendrobium
Schröderianum was rediscovered!
Of Mitcholitz's emotion it is enough to tell that it drove all else from
his mind, or almost. When the interpreter summoned him he sat down and
hobnobbed with those murderers and ate their dubious viands. The triumph
was startling, so speedy and complete; but so much the heavier were his
responsibilities. When, with a chilling shock, he recalled distinctly the
dread spectacle, he said again:
'Let me attend to my business! _I_ can't help it!'
All went well. So soon as the chiefs understood that this eccentric white
man fancied their weeds, they joyously offered them--at a price. The time
of year was excellent--early in the dry season. Next day Micholitz
returned aboard and the Captain brought his ship round to the bay. But he
would not listen to the story. 'I told you they was rum chaps, didn't I?
Well, you see I told you true.' In three days, so plentiful was the
supply, Micholitz had gathered as many as he thought judicious, and heaped
them on deck. They could be dried while the vessel was waiting for cargo
elsewhere, and he longed to get away from that ill-omened spot.
Still luck attended him. The Captain 'filled up' quickly, and sailed, as
by agreement, for a Dutch port, where the orchids would be shipped for
England. He arrived in the evening, the ship lay alongside the wharf; next
day his precious cases would be transferred to the steamer. In great
content Micholitz went to sleep; so did everybody else, the watch
included. Towards morning the harbour police raised a cry of 'Fire!' It
must have been smouldering for hours. Not a plant could poor Micholitz
save!
On arrival, he had telegraphed his success, and joy reigned at St. Albans
all day. Foresight and enterprise were justly rewarded for once. What a
coup--what a sensation! Let us not speculate upon the language used when a
second dispatch came in the morning.
'Ship burnt! What do?--Micholitz.'
The reply was emphatic: 'Go back--Sander.'
'Too late--rainy season.'
'Go back!'
And Micholitz went. His protest, had he insisted upon it, was
unanswerable. Hard enough it would be to return among those anti-human
wretches when the delights of home had been so near. But there was no
chance of regaining the bay--a vessel might not sail thither for months or
years. The work must be begun again--the search renewed. And in the rainy
season, too!
But the good fellow did not even hesitate. Forthwith he inquired for a
ship trading with the island. There was none, and he had no time to wait,
for the rain grew heavier daily. A mail steamer was leaving for the
nearest settlement. Trusting to the 'courtesy of nations,' Micholitz
claimed a passage as a shipwrecked man. It was flatly refused, but at
length the Dutch officials yielded to his indignant appeal so far as to
make a deduction of 30 per cent. 'Well,' he wrote to St. Albans, 'there is
no doubt these are the meanest people on earth.' The Captain of the _Costa
Rica_ whaling ship agrees with him.
I have no space for the adventures of this second journey now. The
Dendrobe was found once more, which is not at all surprising when its
habitat had been discovered. At this spot, however, it was growing, not on
trees, but on rocks of limestone--most epiphytal orchids love to cling on
that rough and porous surface. Especially was it abundant in the graveyard
of the clan, a stony waste where for generations they had left their
dead--not unmourned, perhaps--beneath the sky. The plants grew and
flowered among bones innumerable. To suggest the removal of them under
such circumstances was a nervous duty. But in the graveyard they were not
only most plentiful, but by far most vigorous. It had to be done, and with
all precautions, after displaying a sample of his 'trade,' looking-glasses
and knives and beads, and so forth, Micholitz did it.
A clamour of indignation broke out. It was swelling into passion when he
produced a roll of brass wire; at that spectacle it suddenly calmed down.
After debate among themselves the warriors stipulated that two of their
most sacred idols should travel with the plants, and be treated with all
honour on the way. They would not assist in collecting, but after the
distribution of brass wire they helped to pack the cases.
Thus it happened that one of the Dendrobes sold at 'Protheroe's' on
October 16, 1891, was attached to a human skull. As for the idols, they
were bought by the Hon. Walter Rothschild, and we are free to hope that
they are treated with reverence, as per agreement.
STORY OF DENDROBIUM LOWII
The authorities assert that Dendrobium Lowii was introduced to Europe by
Sir Hugh Low in 1861. My friend has so many titles to honour, in this and
other forms of public service, that he will not feel the loss of one. The
statement is not absolutely correct. An unnamed species, which must have
been Dendrobium Lowii, flowered in the collection of Mr. H. Vicars, at
Heath House, near Chelmsford, in 1845. I do not propose to describe the
plant whereby hangs my tale; suffice it that this is a pale yellow
Dendrobe, peculiarly charming, very delicate, and still rare. We do not
hear of Mr. Vicars' specimen again. He obtained it, with others, from
Fraser, Cumming, and Co., of Singapore, probably in 1842. It was brought
to them from Borneo by Captain Baker, commanding the ship _Orient
Pioneer_.
When lying at Singapore Captain Baker heard of the coal seams just
discovered at Kiangi, on the Brunei river, which made such a stir in the
City a few months afterwards. It seemed to him that his owners would like
a report upon them. And he sailed thither.
I picture the man as big and rough--fat he was certainly; one of those
sailors, careful enough aboard ship, who think it necessary to take a
'drop' at every halt when making holiday.
Pirates were no tradition in that era. They swarmed among the islands, and
the younger chiefs were not proof against temptation when they fell in
with an European ship that seemed to be in difficulties. Doubtless Captain
Baker kept all his wits about him on a perilous voyage beyond the track of
commerce then. But he reached the Bay of Brunei safely, ascended the river
in a well-armed boat, and visited the coalfields at Kiangi. A few Chinamen
were working there. Baker had shrewdness enough to see that immense
capital would be required, that the Sultan would give endless trouble, and
that the coal, when won, might prove to be dubious in quality. We may
hope, therefore, that his owners kept out of the 'rush' which followed,
and were duly grateful.
His business was finished. Messrs. Fraser and Cumming, indeed, had asked
him to collect a few of the 'air-plants' which began to make such a stir
in England, but that would not detain him. They grew so thick on every
tree that a boatload could be gathered in dropping down the river. He had
instructions to choose those upon the highest branches, where, as was
thought, the best species are found; but it made no difference, for a
sailor could walk up those trees hung with creepers as easily as up the
shrouds! So Captain Baker looked out for a place to land among the
mangroves, expecting to fulfil his commission in an hour at most. A place
was found presently, the boat turned to shore, and he directed a couple of
sailors to climb. They were more than willing, under a promise of grog. I
may venture to drop the abstract form of narrative here, and put the
breath of life into it.
Baker had engaged a Malay as interpreter for the voyage; by good luck he
was a native of Brunei. This man stared and laughed a little to himself on
hearing the order. As the sailors began to mount, he said:
'Tuan Cap'n! Say 'm fellows looky sharp on snakes.'
The men paused suddenly, looking down, but Baker swore very loud and very
often to the effect that he'd eat every snake within miles, and that
Tuzzadeen was the son of a sea-cook. So the climbers went up, but
gingerly. Tuzzadeen sat grinning. They had not mounted high, luckily, for
on a sudden one gave a screech, and both crashed down, the second dropping
in sheer fright. But he who uttered that yell had good cause for it,
evidently. He danced and twisted, threw himself down and bounded to his
feet, roaring with pain. His eyes showed the white in a circle all round,
and his brows, strained upward, almost touched the hair. All leapt out,
splashing through the shallow water, pale with alarm--seized their
writhing comrade, and stripped him. Tuzzadeen examined his body; presently
the convulsions grew fainter, and he struggled in a more intelligent sort
of way, though still roaring.
'Him bit by fire-ant, I say, Tuan Cap'n,' observed Tuzzadeen.
'Well! Here's a blasphemous fuss about an unmentionable little ant! D'you
call yourself a gore-stained British seaman, Forster? Just let's hear you
do it, you unfit-for-repetition lubber, so as we may have a right-down
blank laugh.'
Forster collected his wits and answered earnestly, 'It was an ant maybe.
But I tell you, Cap'n Baker, there ain't no difference betwixt that ant
and a red-hot iron devil. Oh law! I'll be good from this day. I know how
the bad uns fare now.'
'That's a blessed resolution anyhow,' said Baker. 'But it didn't last
above a minute, you see. Come, show yourself a man, and shin up them
shrouds again.'
'No, Cap'n Baker,' he answered slowly and impressively, 'not if you was to
put the Queen's crown on top of the tree and fix a keg of rum half-way
up.'
Then they found that the other man had hurt himself badly in falling.
Baker was stubborn. But promises and taunts failed to move one of them,
and he was too fat to climb himself.
'Confound it, Tuz,' said he discontentedly, as they pulled into the
stream. 'Other men have got these things. How did they do it?'
'Them get Dyaks--naked chaps what see ants and snakes.'
'Oh! And can I get Dyaks?'
'You pay, Tuan Cap'n, I find plenty naked chaps.'
In the evening all was settled. Tuzzadeen knew the chief of a Sibuyou Dyak
village on a hill just above the bay; they would scarcely lose sight of
the ship. No preparations were necessary. He himself would go ahead when
they approached a village, and the Dyaks would be pleased to see them.
At dawn next day Baker started, with Tuzzadeen and four armed sailors.
They crossed the broad white beach, studded with big rocks, moss-grown,
weather-stained, clothed with creepers and plumed with fern; through a
grove of cocoanut palms, scaring a band of children--Malay, but clad only
in a heart-shaped badge of silver dangling at their waists--and entered
the forest. There was a well-worn path. In a hilly district like this
Dyaks are content to walk upon the ground; elsewhere they lay tree-trunks,
end to end, on crossed posts, and trot along, raised above the level of
the bush.
It is likely that this was the first time Captain Baker had entered a
tropic forest. A very few steps from the busy go-downs of Singapore would
have taken him into one peculiarly charming; but tigers lay in wait all
round the town--so at least it was believed, not without probability. A
few daring souls already dwelt at Tanglin; but they left business early,
looked to their arms before setting out, and never dreamed of quitting
the bungalow when safe home once more.
Anyhow, the good man was struck with the beauty of that jungle. Scarcely a
flower did he see, or a butterfly, or any living thing save ants and
wasps. Vast trees arching above the path shut out every sun-ray in that
early hour. But all beneath them was a garden such as he had never
conceived. The dews had not yet dried up. They outlined every thread in
the great webs stretching from bush to bush, edged the feathers of bamboo
with white, hung on the tip of every leaf. And the leaves were endless in
variety. Like a green wall they stood on either hand--so closely were they
pressed together along the track, which gave them some faint breath of air
and glimmer of sunshine at noonday. Living things were heard, too, though
unseen. The wah-wahs called 'jug-jug' in a long gurgling cadence, like
water pouring from a bottle. Boughs clashed in sudden tumult, and dimly
one caught a glimpse of monkeys flying through the air in alarm. A crow
upon the top of some dead tree uttered its clanging call, slow and
sonorous like strokes upon a bell. In short, Baker was much pleased and
interested. Often he came to a halt, and at every halt he served out rum.
It was a walk of some miles, very steep at the last. Near the village they
crossed a ravine, dry at this season; so deep it was that the bridge which
spanned it hung far above the tops of lofty trees growing on an island in
the midst.
The bridge was actually the greatest wonder seen as yet on this delightful
excursion. Huge bamboos, lashed end to end, were suspended over the abyss
by rattans beyond counting, fixed in the trees at either side. Not only
wonderful but most elegant it was, for the rattans had been disposed
symmetrically. But Baker, though a seaman from his youth up, surveyed it
with dismay. Boards a foot wide at the utmost had been laid across the
bamboo. There was a hand-rail on each side, but so slight that he
perceived it could not be meant for a support. Moreover, Tuzzadeen warned
him earnestly, before leading the way, that he must not grasp the
hand-rail--it must be touched only, to assist the balance.
Then the Malay went across. At a yard out the bridge began to shiver, and
when he reached the middle, which dipped many feet, it was swinging to and
fro like a pendulum. If Baker had not drunk just enough to make him
reckless he would have turned back. A couple of the men refused. That was
another prick of the spur. He followed Tuzzadeen, with his heart in his
mouth, and arrived safely. Guess how deep was the refresher after that.
Tuzzadeen pushed on, and returned presently with an invitation from the
chief--the Orang kaya, as his title goes. I can fancy Baker's astonishment
when he came in sight of the village. It was one house, perhaps three
hundred feet long, raised thirty feet in the air on posts. They climbed a
notched log to the entrance, where the chief was waiting with his
councillors. He had sent for young men, readily spared at this season, and
meantime he asked the Tuan to rest.
Baker perceived that the house was open from end to end in front and on
his left hand as he entered; on the right, however, stretched a wooden
party wall, with many doors. He rightly concluded that the open space was
common and each family occupied one chamber. Hundreds of people crowded
round, especially children.
Then he lunched, the chief looking on, and in due time a score of stalwart
young Dyaks arrived. After resting he started again with them.
What with drink and interest Baker was now jovially excited. In passing
through the house he noticed a door festooned with greenery. A noise of
howling came through it. He asked Tuzzadeen what this meant. Tuzzadeen,
Malay and Moslem, was much amused.
'Baby born!' he laughed. 'Father go to bed; mother feed him with rice and
salt.'
'Feed the father?' Baker cried.
'Yes. Them naked chaps say father's child, not mother's. Women cry over
him. You hear?'
'Lord 'a mercy, I must see this!' And before Tuzzadeen could interfere he
opened the door.
Wild uproar broke out on the instant, men shouted, women screamed and
wailed--in a solid mass they rushed from the spot. Tuzzadeen caught Baker
and ran him back up the passage, the sailors following. They fled for
their lives, slid down the notched log and along the path, pursued by
terrific clamour--but not by human beings apparently. Perceiving this,
Tuzzadeen stopped.
'I go back,' he said breathlessly. 'Them kill us in jungle when them like.
I make trade. You pay?'
'Anything--anything!' cried Baker. 'We haven't even our guns!'
So the Malay went back to negotiate, but they ran on--came to the awful
bridge, Baker foremost. He reached the middle. One of the sailors behind
would wait no longer--advanced and both fell headlong down. The sailor was
killed instantly; Baker, in the middle of the bridge, dropped among the
branches of a tree.
There he lay, bruised, half conscious, until Tuzzadeen's shouts roused
him, and he answered faintly.
'Hold on!' cried the Malay. 'We come good time, Tuan Cap'n! Before dark!'
Six hours to wait at least!
Baker began to stir--found he had no limbs broken, and thought of
descending. His movements were quickened by the onslaught of innumerable
ants, not a venomous species happily. But in climbing down he remarked
that the tree-top was loaded with orchids, which he tore off and dropped;
long before nightfall he met the search-party, toiling up the ravine from
its opening on the shore.
Next day Tuzzadeen returned to bury the dead man and bring away the
orchids; among them was Mr. Vicars' Dendrobium Lowii.
The Dyak practice referred to--of putting the father to bed when a child
is born--prevails, or has prevailed, from China to Peru. It lingers even
in Corsica and the Basque Provinces of Europe. Those who would know more
may consult an Encyclopaedia, under the heading 'Couvade.' The house is
'taboo'--called 'pamali' in Borneo--for eight days. Hence the commotion.
CALANTHE HOUSE
For my own part I rank Calanthes among the most charming of flowers, and
in the abstract most people agree with me perhaps. Yet they are
contemned--the natural species--by all professed orchidists; and even
hybrids mostly will be found in holes and corners, where no one is invited
to pause and look at them. There are grand exceptions certainly. In Baron
Schröder's wondrous collection, the hybrid Calanthes hold a most
honourable place. I have seen them in bloom there filling a big house,
more like flowering shrubs than orchids--a blaze and a mass of colour
almost startling. But these are unique, raised with the utmost care from
the largest and rarest and most brilliant varieties which money unlimited
could discover. The species used for hybridising were, as I understand,
Cal. vestita oculata gigantea with Cal. Regnieri, Sanderiana, and
igneo-oculata--but picked examples, as has been said.
Here we have, among others, _Sandhurstiana_, offspring of Limatodes rosea
× Cal. vest. rubro-oculata. The individual flowers are large, and a spike
may bear as many as forty; brightest crimson, with a large yellow 'eye'
upon the lip. No mortal contemns this.
_Bella_ (Veitchii × Turneri).--Sepals white, petals daintily flushed; lip
somewhat more deeply flushed, with a white patch upon the disc, and in
this a broad spot of the deepest but liveliest crimson.
_Veitchii_ of course; but also the pure white form of Veitchii, which is
by no means a matter of course.
_William Murray_ (vest. rubro-oculata × Williamsii).--A hybrid notably
robust, which is always a recommendation. White sepals and petals, a
crimson patch on the lip, darkest at the throat.
_Florence_ (bella × Veitchii).--Flowers large, of a deep rose, with
purplish rose markings.
_Clive._--The parentage of this hybrid is lost. Petals lively carmine,
sepals paler. Throat yellow, lip white at base with carmine disc.
_Victoria Regina_ (Veitchii × rosea).--The large flowers are all tender
rose, saving a touch of sulphurous yellow at base of the lip.
Phaio-calanthe _Arnoldiae_ is a bi-generic hybrid (C. Regnieri × Phajus
grandifolius).--Sepals and petals yellow; lip rose-pink.
Here also I may mention some interesting Phajus hybrids:--
_Phoebe_ (Sanderianus × Humblotii).--Sepals and petals light fawn-colour
with a pinkish tone; lip crimson, veined with yellow.
_Owenianus_ (bicolor Oweniae × Humblotti).--Sepals and petals milk-white,
tinged with purplish brown. Lip like crimson velvet, orange at the base.
_Ashworthianus_ (Mannii × maculatus).--Sepals and petals deep yellow,
touched with ochre, lip similarly coloured, marked with heavy radiating
lines of chocolate.
_Cooksoni_ (Wallichii × tuberculosus).--The sepals and petals are those of
Wallichii--buff tinged with reddish purple, china-white at back; the lip
is that of tuberculosus--side-lobes yellow, spotted with crimson; disc
white, with purple spots.
_Marthae_ (Blumei × tuberculosus).--Sepals and petals pale buff. The
large lip white, touched with pale rose, and thickly covered with
golden-brown spots.
Very notable is the Zygo-colax hybrid, _Leopardinus_ (Zygopetalum
maxillare × Colax jugosus), of which we give an illustration.
Here is also the Zygopetalum hybrid, _Perrenoudii_ (intermedium ×
Guatieri).--Sepals and petals green, heavily blurred with brown. Lip
violet, deepening to purple.
Against the back wall of this house stands a little grove of Thunias
Bensoniae and Marshalliana; the former magenta and purple, and the latter
white with yellow throat, profusely striped with orange red. The wondrous
intricacy of design so notable in the colouring of orchids is nowhere more
conspicuous than in Thunia Marshalliana.
THE CYMBIDIUM HOUSE
Our 'specimen' Cymbidiums, that is, the large plants, are scattered up and
down in other houses; for singly they are ornaments, and together their
great bulk and long leaves would occupy too much space. Here are only
small examples, or small species, planted out upon a bed of tufa amidst
ferns and moss and begonias, Cyrtodeira Chontalensis, and the pretty
'African violet,' St. Paulii ionantha.
Cymbidiums are not showy, as the term applies to Cattleyas and Dendrobes.
Their colour, if not white, is brown or yellow, with red-brown markings.
We hear indeed of wonders to be introduced some day--of a gigantic
species, all golden, which dwells in secluded valleys of the Himalayas,
and another, bright scarlet, in Madagascar. In fact, this was collected
again and again by M. Humblot and shipped to Europe; but every piece died
before arrival. At length M. Humblot carried some home himself, and a few
survived. Sir Trevor Lawrence bought two, I believe, but they died before
flowering. So did all the rest.
But if the Cymbidiums of our experience make no display of brilliant
colour, assuredly they have other virtues. When eburneum thrusts up its
rigid spikes, in winter or earliest spring, crowned with great ivory
blooms, the air is loaded with their perfume. I have seen a plant of
Lowianum with more than twenty garlands arching out from its thicket of
leaves, each bearing fifteen to twenty-five three-inch flowers, yellow or
greenish, with a heavy bar of copper-red across the lip. And they grow
fast. It is said that at Alnwick the Duke of Northumberland has specimens
of unknown age filling boxes four feet square; each must be a garden in
itself when the flowers open. And they last three months when
circumstances are favourable. Sometimes also--but too rarely--the greenish
yellow of Lowianum is changed to bright soft green. Nobody then could say
that the colouring is not attractive.
We have here most of the recognised species--Cymbidiums are not much given
to 'sporting': Devonianum, buff, freckled with dull crimson--lip purplish,
with a dark spot on either side; Sinensis, small, brown and yellow,
scented; Hookeri, greenish, dotted and blotched with purple; Traceyanum,
greenish, striped with red-brown, lip white, similarly dotted, and the
famous Baron Schröder variety thereof, which arrived in the very first
consignment, but never since; pendulum, dusky olive, lip whitish, reddish
at the sides and tip; and so on.
The only hybrids of Cymbidium known to me are eburneo-Lowianum and its
converse, Lowiano-eburneum. The former is creamy yellow, with the V-shaped
blotch of its father on the lip; the latter pure white, with the same
blotch more sharply defined--which is to say, that Lowiano-eburneum is
much the better of the two. Both are represented here.
Against the glass, right and left all round, are Coelogynes of sorts.
We have another house devoted mainly to Cymbidium, in which they have been
planted out for some years, with results worth noting. I am convinced that
in a future day amateurs who put the well-being of their orchids above all
else--above money in especial!--will discard pots entirely. Every species
perhaps--every one that I have observed, at least--grows more strongly
when placed in a niche, of size appropriate, on a block of tufa. There are
objections, of course--quite fatal for those who have not abundance of
labour at command; for the compost very quickly turns sour under such
conditions if not watered with great care and judgment. Moreover, what
suits the plant suits also the insects which feed upon it. And if there be
rats in the neighbourhood they soon discover that there is snug lying
against the pipes, behind the wall of stone. Anxious mothers find it the
ideal spot for a nursery. I cannot learn, however, that they do any wanton
damage, beyond nipping off a few old leaves to make their beds, which is
no serious injury. I have rats in my own cool house. Many years ago, on
their first arrival probably, an Odontoglossum bulb was eaten up.
Doubtless that was an experiment which did not prove satisfactory, for it
has never been repeated. However, rats and insects can be kept down, if
not exterminated.
The Cymbidiums here were rough pieces, odds and ends, consigned to this
house to live or die. Now they are grand plants, in the way to become
'specimens,' set among ferns and creepers on a lofty wall of tufa, the
base of which is clothed with Tradescantia and Ficus repens. In front and
on one side are banks of tufa planted with Masdevallias, Lycastes, Laelia
harpophylla, and so forth.
STORY OF COELOGYNE SPECIOSA
Orchid stories lack one essential quality of romance. They have little of
the 'female interest,' and nothing of love. The defect is beyond remedy, I
fear--collectors are men of business. It is rumoured, indeed, that
personages of vast weight in the City could tell romantic adventures of
their own, if they would. So, perhaps, could my heroes. But neither do
tell willingly. I have asked in vain. However, among my miscellaneous
notes on Orchidology, it is recorded that 'W. C. Williams found Coelogyne
speciosa up the Baram River. Books confine its habitat to Java and
Sumatra.' The Baram is in Borneo. When travelling in that island thirty
years ago I heard a story of Williams' doings, and I think I can recall
the outline. But imagination furnishes the details, of course, aided by
local knowledge.
It may be worth while to tell briefly how this gentleman came to be
wandering in Borneo--in the Sultan's territory also--at a date when Rajah
Brooke had but just begun to establish order in his own little province.
Williams' position or business I never heard. Some Dutch firm sold or
entrusted to him a stock of earthenware jars made in Holland, facsimiles
of those precious objects cherished by the Dyaks. The speculation was much
favoured in that day--it seemed such in easy cut to fortune. But they say
that not a solitary Dyak was ever taken in. The failure was attributed, of
course, to some minute divergence from the pattern. Manufacturers tried
again, still more carefully. They sent jars to be copied in China, whence
the originals came, evidently, at an unknown period. But it was no use;
the Dyaks only looked somewhat more respectfully at these forgeries before
rejecting them. For many years the attempt was made occasionally. Rich
Chinamen tried their skill. But at length everybody got to understand,
though no one is able to explain, that those savages possess some means of
distinguishing a jar of their own from a copy absolutely identical in our
eyes.
Mr. Williams had tried elsewhere without success, I fancy, before visiting
Brunei, the capital. But he had good reason to feel confidence there. The
Malay nobles would buy his jars without question, and compel their Dyak
subjects to accept them at their own price; such was the established means
of collecting subsidies. In fact, the nobles were overjoyed. But the
Sultan heard what was afoot. He possesses several of these mystic objects,
and he makes no inconsiderable portion of his revenue by selling water
drawn from them to sprinkle over the crops, to take as medicine, and so
forth. For his are the finest and holiest of all--beyond price. One speaks
upon occasion, giving him warning when grave troubles impend. Sir Spencer
St. John says he asked the Sultan a few years afterwards 'whether he would
take £2000 for it; he answered he did not think any offer in the world
would tempt him.'
The Brunei monarch was shrewd enough to see that passing off false jars
could not be to his interest. The Pangarans argued in vain. There's no
telling where it would end, he said, if the idolaters once began to feel
suspicious. 'Let your Englishman take his wares among the Kayan dogs. He
may swindle them to his heart's content.' The Kayans were not only
independent but ruthless and conquering foes of Brunei.
There was no other hope of selling the confounded jars. After assuring
himself that the enterprise was not too hazardous, Williams sought a
merchant familiar with the Kayan trade. He chose Nakodah Rahim, a
sanctimonious and unprepossessing individual, but one whose riches made a
guarantee of good faith. This man contracted to transport him and his
goods to Langusan, the nearest town of the Kayans on the Baram, and to
bring him back.
Williams was the first European perhaps to reach that secluded but
charming settlement. The Nakodah prudently anchored in mid-stream and
landed by himself to call on the head chief. When the news spread that a
white man was aboard the craft, swarms of delighted Kayans tumbled
pell-mell into their canoes and raced towards it, yelling, laughing,
splashing one another in joyous excitement. But the great chief Tamawan
put a stop to this unseemly demonstration. Rushing from the Council Hall,
where he and his peers were giving audience to the Nakodah, he commanded
the people to return, each to his own dwelling. Stentor had not a grander
voice. It overpowered even that prodigious din. The mob obeyed. They
swarmed back, and, landing, shinned up the forty-foot poles which are
their stairs, like ants; reappearing a moment afterwards on the verandah,
among the tree-tops. These vast 'houses,' containing perhaps a thousand
inmates, lined each bank of the river, and every soul pressed to the
front, mostly shouting--a wild but pleasant tumult.
The chiefs sent an assurance of hearty welcome. Williams paid his
respects; they returned his call on board, and Tamawan invited him to a
feast. Next day another potentate entertained him and then another. Drink
of all sorts, including 'best French brandy,' flowed without
intermission. Williams began to be ill. But there was no talk of
business. His goods had been landed at the Council Hall, as is usual, but
not unpacked. The Nakodah assured him all was right. He himself had a
quantity of merchandise waiting under the same conditions.
So a week passed; etiquette was satisfied, and Tamawan invited him to open
his bales. The chiefs squatted in a semi-circle, all the population
behind, in delicious expectancy. The jars were brought forth--first a
Gusi, the costliest species, worth £300 to £1000 in 'produce,' among the
Dyaks, had it only been genuine. This Williams presented, with an air, to
Tamawan. The chief glanced at it, observed with Kayan frankness that for
his own part he liked brighter colours, and, so to speak, called for the
next article. Williams grasped the fatal truth when he saw how carelessly
his precious Gusi was regarded, not by Tamawan alone but by all. Hoping
against hope, however, he brought forth a Naga--a Rusa. The chiefs became
impatient. 'Show your good trade, Tuan,' they said. Perhaps it was lucky
that he had some miscellaneous 'notions'; but there was only enough to
make the needful presents.
Utter collapse! The foolish fellow had not thought of asking whether
Kayans valued these unlovely jars. Perhaps the Brunei nobles could not
have told him, but Nakodah Rahim must have been perfectly well aware. By
keeping silence he had transported a cargo of his own goods to Langusan at
Williams' expense--without freight or charges! The victim could not quite
restrain his anger, but it would have been madness to quarrel. He had
indeed several Malays, perhaps trusty. But the crew outnumbered them, and
the Kayans doubtless would back the Nakodah. There was nothing to be done
but wait, with as much good temper as he could summon, until that worthy
had sold out. During this time Williams hunted, explored the woods, and
collected a variety of plants, some of which we do not recognise from the
description. But among those he brought to Singapore was Coelogyne
speciosa.
Meantime sickness attacked the crew, whilst Williams' servants escaped it.
The Nakodah hurried his sales, but when he was ready to start, it became
necessary to engage some of the latter, with their master's consent, for
navigating the vessel; but for this mischance there would have been no
need to ask the white man's co-operation in a little stroke of business.
At each of the festivities Williams had remarked a very pretty girl always
in attendance on the chief Kum Palan. Charming faces are common among
those people, and graceful figures a matter of course. Kayan maidens do
not pull out their eyebrows, nor blacken their teeth, nor shave the top of
the head, nor, in fact, practise any of the disfigurements which spoil
Dyak beauty; for their tattooing, though elaborate, is all below the
waist. Most of them even do not chew betel before marriage, and you hardly
find one of these whose teeth are not a faultless row of pearls. Cool
scrutiny reveals that their noses are too flat and their mouths
unsymmetrical. But the girl would have a mane of lustrous hair decked with
flowers, restrained by a snowy fillet over the brow, streaming loose down
her back. Her skin would be pale golden bronze and her eyes worthy of the
tenderest epithets. Even a chief's daughter wears little clothing beyond
armlets and waist-belt of gold, white shell, and antique beads, as
mysterious and as costly in proportion as the Dyak jars. Only a silken
kerchief, clasping one thigh in studied folds, gathered and tucked in over
the other, would represent what we call dress; but the tattooing from
waist to knee is so close that feminine limbs seem to be enveloped in
black tights.
Williams learned that this beauty was daughter to Kum Palan. Parent and
child must be warmly attached, he thought, for she was always near him.
Other chiefs had pretty daughters, but they received no such attention.
The girl looked sad, but that is frequent with Kayan and Dyak maidens,
when, in truth, their souls are dancing with fun and devilment--a mere
expression of the features.
Nakodah Rahim's secret concerned this damsel--Kilian by name. She was in
love with a youth, Nikput, popular and distinguished--he had taken heads
already--but not yet in the position which Kum Palan's son-in-law ought to
occupy. Other suitors did not come forward, however, for the eldest son of
Tamawan, the Great Chief, entertained for the youth one of those romantic
friendships common among warriors in Borneo. Tamawan could not interfere,
but there was a general impression that he would not feel kindly towards
the man who robbed Nikput of his bride. Kum Palan resented this state of
things. He feared an elopement, and with good reason, for that was the
little stroke of business which the Nakodah proposed. Nikput offered fair
terms. All was arranged. On the morrow early the prau was to start,
dropping down stream. It would anchor for the night, as usual, at a
certain spot, and there the lovers would come on board, having taken such
steps as should lead the pursuing parent in another direction. Nikput had
a friend among the Milanaus lower down. When the disaster was beyond
remedy, Tamawan would compel his subordinate to be reconciled. Would the
Tuan object to this little speculation?
That the villain intended from the first to murder Nikput and kidnap his
bride is certain. He declared at his trial that Williams had been his
accomplice, and on this account Sir Spencer St. John held an inquiry.
There was no shadow of evidence; the charge is grotesque. But it may
possibly be that Williams exacted a share of the gold which Nikput agreed
to pay.
All went well. At the time and place appointed, in pitch darkness, a canoe
grated softly against the vessel's side--a few whispers passed--and Kilian
climbed aboard. But, as it turned out, she was not wearing only a few
ornaments and a kerchief. All the family jewels, so to speak, hung about
her pretty figure. She was swathed in silk, garment over garment. And
Nikput handed up several baskets that must have been a very heavy load
even for his stalwart frame. They had looted the paternal treasure at the
Nakodah's suggestion.
Next day passed without alarm; there are only farmhouses and villages,
where a trader need not stop, between Langusan and the Brunei frontier.
The fugitives remained below in the tiny cabin, amidst such heat and such
surroundings that those who know may shudder to think of their situation.
After dark, however, they came up, and, until he fell asleep, doubtless,
Williams heard their murmuring and low happy laughter. On the morrow they
would be safe.
A terrible cry awoke him--screams and trampling on the palm-leaf deck;
then a great splash. Dawn was breaking, but the mists are so dense at that
hour that the Malays call it white darkness. The sounds of struggle and
the girl's wild shrieks directed him; but at the first movement he was
borne backwards and overthrown by a press of men stumbling through the
fog, with Kilian writhing and screaming in their midst. They tossed her
down into the hold and threw themselves upon him, his own servants
foremost. Perhaps these saved him from the fate of poor Nikput. What could
he do?--he had no arms. They swore him to silence. But in that bloody
realm of Brunei to whom should a wise man complain?
All that day and the next Kilian's shrieks never ceased. 'She will go
mad,' Williams cried passionately; the Nakodah smiled. When her raving
clamour was interrupted--died down to silence--they brought her on deck, a
piteous spectacle. I have not to pain myself and my readers by imagining
the contrast with the bright and lovely girl we saw a week ago.
They reached the capital, and Williams fled; of his after life I know only
that he sold some orchids in Singapore. Happily the tale does not end
here.
The crime would have passed unknown or unnoticed, like others innumerable
of its sort in Brunei, had not Kilian avenged her own wrongs. She was
raving mad for a while, but such a prize was worth nursing. Gradually she
recovered her beauty and so much of her wits that the Nakodah sold her for
a great sum to one of the richest nobles. A few days after, perhaps the
same day, she stabbed this man and threw him from a window into the
river--possibly with some distracted recollection of her lover's fate. The
Nakodah was seized and others. All the horrid story came out. They were
executed, and the Sultan restored their victim--quite mad now--to her
father. But on the way she leapt overboard.
[Illustration: CATTLEYA LABIATA. VAR. MEASURESIANA.]
CATTLEYA LABIATA HOUSE
This is the oldest of Cattleyas, for the plant now recognised as Catt.
Loddigesii, which was introduced to Europe a few years earlier, passed
under the name of Epidendrum. One might call labiata the 'eponymous hero'
of its tribe, for Lindley christened it in honour of his friend Mr.
Cattley, an enthusiastic amateur of Barnet. This was in 1818; from that
year until 1889 Cattleya labiata was lost. It seemed easy enough to follow
the journeyings of Swainson, who discovered it, and so reach the country
where it dwelt; collectors innumerable made the attempt, but never
succeeded. Mr. Sander, for instance, sent three at different times,
expressly to trace Swainson's footsteps so far as they are
recorded--Oversluys, Smith, and Bestwood; beside four others who
skirmished along the track. He assured himself that they had explored
every district which Swainson could possibly have visited; but of Cattleya
labiata they found no sign. Meanwhile the plants of the first importation
died off gradually, and the richest of mortals competed for the few
surviving. Ten years ago, when the long search came to an end, very few
were the persons in England who owned a specimen. I think I can name most
of them--Baron Schröder, Sir Trevor Lawrence, Lord Rothschild, Duke of
Marlborough, Lord Home, Lord Howe, Messrs. J. Chamberlain, Statter, R. H.
Measures, R. I. Measures, Blandy, Hardy, Coleman, and Smith of the Isle of
Wight. One of the examples possessed by Mr. R. H. Measures belonged to the
variety Pescatorei, named after General Pescatore, the same leading
amateur of early days whose memory is kept green by the sweetest of
Odontoglossums, saving crispum. Cattleya labiata Pescatorei was a precious
treasure then; 'none so poor as do it reverence' in this generation. The
plant is still here, pretty enough so far as it goes, slightly
distinguished by a silver edging to the petals.
The puzzle of that first consignment has not been explained--we have only
eluded it, like Alexander at Gordium. Certainly Swainson did not find his
plants in the neighbourhood where they exist at this time. It is
conjectured that there were woods close to Rio, now cultivated ground,
where it flourished at the beginning of the century. However, in 1889,
Cattleya labiata reappeared; oddly enough a collector of insects found it
originally, and a collector of insects rediscovered it. The
'professionals' were beaten to the last.
And now it has become almost the commonest of orchids; but for the same
reason we may be sure that it will grow scarce again in no long time. Not
to England only but to France, Belgium, Germany, the United States, such
vast quantities have been consigned that to one who knows something of the
facts it seems amazing that the limited area could furnish so many. And
for one that reaches the market three, perhaps six, die.
I have alluded to the extermination of orchids already. It is a sadly
fascinating subject for those who think, and 'out of the fulness of the
heart the mouth speaketh.' The time is very close when Odontoglossum
crispum, most heavenly of created things, will arrive by tens and units
instead of myriads--and then will arrive not at all. Already a gentleman
who boasts that he has leased the whole district where the 'Pacho' form
still survives, reckons the number of plants remaining at 60,000 only.
Some months ago he issued quaint proposals for a Company (limited) to
secure the utmost profit on the collection of these. Business men 'smiled
and put the question by,' however enthusiastic they might be as
orchidists; but I believe that the statement of facts was not altogether
inaccurate. It is no longer worth while to send out collectors of
Odontoglossum crispum; natives of the country gather such as they find and
store them until the opportunity occurs to sell a dozen or so.
I could give other instances; some have been already mentioned. But what
is the use? Unless governments interfere, there is no remedy. Some indeed
have taken steps. Several years ago the Rajah of Sarawak decreed that no
one should collect orchids in his territory, for sale, without a license.
The exportation of Dendrobium Macarthiae from Ceylon is forbidden, and the
authorities of Capetown have made stringent rules about gathering Disa
grandiflora. But I have heard of no other restrictions, and these,
commendable as they are, scarcely touch the mischief. But that is enough
upon a melancholy subject, with which I have no need to meddle here.
In this house and elsewhere we have some eleven hundred labiatas. No
Cattleya is more variable. From white to deep crimson every shade of
colour may be found, with endless diversities of combination. Here are a
few of the most important.
_Imperatrix._--Rosy mauve. Distinguished by a broad fringe of the same
colour round the lip, which, inside, shows a fine crimson. Next to it is
one, unnamed, which makes a good contrast. Very big and broad; pale. The
tube, opening wide, is superbly striped with crimson over a gold ground.
The great lip all crimson.
_Nobilis._--Big and evenly rosy. The gold in the throat is faint, and the
lip, grandly frilled, has no lines.
_Measuresiana._--Somewhat pale; at base of the petals the midrib is white.
The gamboge stain does not spread beyond the throat, and it fades to white
as the crimson lip spreads. Another has a deep golden throat, but the
crimson of the lip is only a triangle, dispersing in broad lines upon the
margin of mauve.
But here is one, on the contrary, in which the lip is all deepest crimson
except a very narrow edging of white. Scarcely a trace of gold is seen;
the crimson stretches back all up the throat in heavy lines.
And here again is one of palest rose, in which the lip carries only a
single slender touch of crimson.
_Sanderae._--A supreme beauty. Sepals almost white, petals somewhat more
deeply tinged with mauve. Lip snow-white, saving the ochreous-orange
throat and a lovely stain of crimson lake in the midst; with a purple
blotch above and mottled lines of the same hue descending from it.
_Mrs. R. H. Measures._--Purest white. The broad lower sepals curl
downwards, almost encircling the lip, which has a faintly-yellow throat
and a tender cloud of purplish crimson on the front, scored with three
strong lines of purple.
_Macfarlanei._--Crimson purple sepals and petals of the brightest tint;
lip crimson-maroon and orange throat striped with brilliant crimson--a
superb flower.
_Baroness Schröder._--A famous variety. The petals are remarkably wide and
graceful in shape, pale mauve of colour. The lip, somewhat paler, tinged
with rose, shows in front a bundle of purple lines, as it were, the ends
of which diverge from a purplish cloud over the rosy margin.
_Princesse de Croix._--All pink except the white edges of the lip
unrolling from the tube, and a small purple blur, scored with short heavy
lines, which runs far up the throat, leaving a broad pink disc below.
_Alba._--Perfectly beautiful. All ivory white, as it seems at a glance,
save a faint stain of yellow in the throat; but close scrutiny detects a
purple tinge also on the lip.
_Archduchess._--The shape is even more graceful than usual. Sepals and
very broad leaf-like petals rosy mauve, the yellow of the throat subdued,
a fine patch of crimson lake on the labellum, with darker lines, leaving a
wide margin of rosy mauve.
_Robin Measures._--Rosy. The lip spreads so broad that its disc forms a
perfect circle. The yellow of the throat is only a slight stain, and the
fine crimson patch on the lip leaves a handsome margin of rose.
_Bella._--Distinguished especially by the fine purple frilling of the lip
which, like the sepals and petals, is nearly white of ground. A triangle
of brightest crimson, sharply defined, issues from the handsome orange
throat.
_Adelina_ resembles this, but the crimson of the triangle has a deeper
tone and the margin is distinctly mauve.
_Princess of Wales._--An enormous flower, of remarkable colouring. Sepals
and petals purplish. The usual crimson of the lip deepens almost to
plum-colour. The margin, paler, is finely frilled.
_Juno._--Somewhat pale. Notable for the breadth of crimson in the lip,
which mounts far up the throat, running across it from side to side in a
line perfectly straight.
_Princess May._--A grand variety; the petals spread like birds' wings, and
the lip opens very wide. On its folds are broad whitish discolorations,
against which the deep crimson of the disc seems even richer than usual.
_Her Majesty._--A pink giant, as notable for shape as for size. On the
broad lip a crimson cloud stands out against a pale margin, finely
frilled.
The edging of the central stand in this house should be noticed. It is
formed by a single plant of Pothos aurea, which, starting from the end
wall, has already encircled the structure twice. Now it is hurrying to
make a third turn. Pothos is the neatest of climbers, pushing no
side-shoots, growing very fast, and thrusting forth its large leaves at
equal intervals. The variety aurea is touched with gold here and there,
and to my mind it makes the ideal edging of a stand.
To right in this house is Cattleya Lawrenceana, of which we have probably
150 plants. This again is a species threatened with extinction--indeed the
threat is very near fulfilment. It was never common in its native woods. I
may quote a few lines from the report of Mr. Seyler who went to collect
this, and two other orchids which dwell on the Roraima Mountain, for Mr.
Sander; the date is January 19, 1893:--
'... I collected everything at Roraima except Catt. Lawrenceana, which was
utterly rooted out already by other collectors.... We hunted all about for
Catt. Lawrenceana and got only 1500 or so, it growing only here and
there.... What I want to point out to you is that Catt. Lawrenceana is
very rare in the interior now.... If you want to get any Lawrenceana you
will have to send yourself, and, as I said to you, the results will be
very doubtful.'
The variety _Macfarlanei_ has rosy pink sepals; petals of club shape,
bowed, crimson, deepening towards the tips. Labellum long, narrow, all
crimson of the darkest shade.
Noteworthy is a plant which we may suppose a natural hybrid of L.
purpurata with L. elegans, resembling the latter in size, comparatively
small, as in its narrow sepals and petals flushed with rose. The lip is
very bright and pretty, with large clear yellow throat, ringed with white;
the disc, of lively crimson, has a purple margin finely frilled, and a
whitish purple patch in front.
Among miscellaneous examples here is a handsome specimen of Cymbidium
Devonianum, and a very remarkable hybrid of Catt. Gaskelliana × Catt.
Harrisoniae--_Mary Measures_; rather ghostly but pleasant to look upon.
Its colour of sepal and petal is palest mauve, the tube prettily lined and
mottled with pale yellow; labellum, gamboge-yellow in the throat, fading
towards the edge, and a pale crimson tip.
A STORY OF BRASSAVOLA DIGBYANA
Brassavola Digbyana is a flower for all tastes--large, stately, beautiful,
and supremely curious; I use the familiar name, though it should be Laelia
Digbyana. Charming are the great sepals and petals, greenish white, around
the snowy lip; but why, the thoughtful ask in vain, does that lip ravel
out into a massive fringe, branched and interlacing, near an inch wide?
The effect is lovely, but the purpose inscrutable. In Dendrobium
Brymerianum we find a puzzle exactly similar. But it does not help us to
understand. Countless are the species of Dendrobium, many those of Laelia;
but in each case no other shows this peculiarity.
Brassavola Digbyana was first sent to Europe in 1845 by the Governor of
British Honduras, who named it in honour of his kinsman, Lord Digby. Once
only had the plant been received since that time, so far as I can learn,
until last year. But the second cargo, in 1879, 'went a very long way.'
Messrs. Stevens have rarely been so embarrassed with treasures. The
history of that prodigious consignment is worth recording.
It was despatched by Messrs. Brown, Ponder, and Co., of Belize, who dealt
in mahogany and logwood--do still, I hope. That trade appears to be rather
interesting. The merchant keeps a gang of Caribs, who have been in the
employment of the firm all their lives perhaps. They go out at the proper
season to find and mark the trees; fell them presently and return whilst
the timber is drying; or amuse themselves in the bush, hunting and
gathering miscellaneous produce. Then they float the raft down to Belize.
These Caribs are more or less descended from the Indians of Jamaica. Early
in the last century the British Government collected the survivors of that
hapless race, and planted them out of harm's way in the Island of St.
Vincent, uninhabited at the time. They did not thrive, however, and in
1796 the Government transported them once more to the Island of Roatan, in
the Bay of Honduras.
But an extraordinary change had come over the poor creatures. We are to
suppose that when landed at St. Vincent their type was mostly if not
wholly Indian; when taken away it was to all appearance negro. Probably a
slave ship had been wrecked there, and the blacks, escaping, killed all
the male Indians, taking the women to wife; such is the theory, but there
is no record. A transformation so sudden and complete in such brief time
is striking evidence of the African vigour, for in hair, features,
complexion, and build the Carib is a negro.
But not in character. He has virtues to which neither red man nor black
lay claim--industry, honesty, truthfulness, staunch fidelity to his
engagements and readiness to combine. The mahogany cutters have a Guild,
which holds itself responsible for the failure of any member to execute
work for which he has been paid; it cannot be called a Trade Union,
because, so far as I learn, it has no other purpose--except jollification.
In brief, the Carib of Honduras is one of the best fellows on earth in his
way. He looks down on all about him, negro and Indian and 'poor white.' If
a stranger suspect him of trickery, he thinks it defence enough to
exclaim--'Um Carib man, sah!' And so it is, as a rule.
Messrs. Brown Ponder had lately taken on a new hand--let us call him Sam.
This young fellow had been wandering up and down the coast some years,
doing any honest work that turned up. Thus he had served in the boat's
crew of M. Sécard, when that gentleman was collecting orchids in Guiana.
The experience had taught him that flowers have value, and he returned
from his first visit to the bush, after entering the firm's service, with
the announcement of a marvel. We may fancy the report which negro
imagination would draw of Brassavola Digbyana. The mysterious fringe did
not puzzle Sam at all. It was long enough to serve the purpose of _chevaux
de frise_, to keep off monkeys and birds! M. Sécard used to give him a
dollar apiece for things not to be compared with it! In short, here was a
fortune for the gathering--and what terms would Mr. Brown offer him?
Mr. Brown offered nothing at all. Residents in Honduras are curiously
apathetic about orchids even now. I think it may be said that no collector
has visited their country, which is the explanation perhaps. Moreover, Mr.
Brown well knew the liveliness of the Carib imagination. Sam had met with
only one or two belated flowers, which he displayed. But the shapeless
little cluster of withered petals was no evidence of beauty--quite the
reverse. Everybody cut his jokes upon it.
It might be supposed that a man would carry his wares to another market
under such circumstances. But that is not the Carib way; it would be a
breach of loyalty. Good-naturedly Sam told Mr. Brown that he was a fool,
with an adjective for emphasis. They were all adjective fools, he assured
them daily. But to treat with a rival could not enter his mind.
The gang had returned to the bush when young Mr. Ponder came back from
Bluefields. His partner mentioned Sam's idea as a jest in conversation
when several friends were present. One of them recalled how Governor Digby
had sent some orchids to Europe ages ago, which sold for a mint of money.
Others had heard something of the legend. Ponder, young and enterprising,
inclined to think the matter worth notice. He inquired among the oldest
inhabitants, Carib and negro. Many recollected the Governor's speculation,
and the orchid also, when pressed. It was as big as a bunch of bananas,
blue--no, red--no, yellow; shaped just like a boat, or a bird, or a star,
or a monkey climbing a tree, and so forth. But all agreed about the
fringe, 'now you come to mention it.' Ponder saw they knew nothing beyond
the mere fact. But he made up his mind to get some specimens next rainy
season, and judge for himself whether a consignment would be likely to
pay.
In due time the cutters appeared with their rafts of timber. It was not
the moment to broach an unfamiliar subject. Calculations awfully intricate
for those honest fellows had to be made intelligible to them once more,
and then to be discussed, approved, explained again, and finally accepted
or compromised. The Caribs passed all day in argument and in measuring the
logs over and over; all night in working sums of arithmetic on fingers and
toes. At length the amount due was computed amicably, as usual, and paid.
But then, not without embarrassment, the whole gang, 'gave notice.'
When such an event occurs, under such circumstances, an employer knows the
reason. His Caribs have found gold. There is nothing to be said beyond
wishing them luck. But Mr. Ponder asked Sam to get him a few of his
orchids next rains. Sam declined, somewhat roughly. Mr. Ponder laid the
dispute before the Guild, so to call it, which pronounced that Sam must
carry out his proposal before leaving the firm's service.
The dry season was well advanced by this time, and all flowers had
withered. Nevertheless Sam jumped into a canoe, swearing, and started up
the river with a couple of Indians. In three or four days he returned with
a boat-load of orchids, sent them to the warehouse, and vanished. They
proved to be a miscellaneous collection, all sorts and sizes; evidently
the men had just gathered anything they came across.
Mr. Ponder grew angry. It was an impudent trick, a defiance of himself and
the Guild, such as no true Carib would be guilty of. Foreign travel had
demoralised Sam. Those honest fellows, his partners, would be not less
indignant, if the shameful proceeding could be laid before them. But all
had gone up the river--to their gold-field, of course--and no one knew
where that might be. Mr. Ponder got more and more warm as he revolved the
insult. Business was slack. He decided to follow, and sent out forthwith
to engage a crew of Indians; gold-diggers do not mind the intrusion of
Indians so much, for when these savages have obtained a very little dust,
they withdraw to turn it into drink. And they never chatter. Moreover he
had to find the Caribs' camp, and they are sleuth-hounds.
The search was not so hopeless as it might seem. Carefully reviewing the
circumstances, Mr. Ponder felt sure that his Caribs had discovered their
placer whilst collecting the felled trees--not before; that is, in the
rainy season. Men would not wander far into the bush at that time.
Probably, therefore, the scene lay pretty close to one or other of the
spots where they had found mahogany. Of those spots he had a minute
description.
The reasoning proved to be quite correct, but luck interposed before it
had been severely tested. On arrival at one of the stations to be
explored--after a week or ten days' voyaging, as I imagine--he saw a canoe
just pushing out from beneath the wooded bank with two of the missing
Caribs therein, going to Belize on some errand. Their astonishment was
loud, but not angry; they had no quarrel with Mr. Ponder. After a very
little hesitation they consented to lead him to the camp, the Indians
remaining in their boat.
It was not a long walk, nor uncomfortable. A broad path had been cut to
the top of the ridge, for hauling down the trunks, and the rollers had
smoothed it like a highway; but not so broad that the great trees on
either hand failed to overshadow it. Mr. Ponder questioned his guides
laughingly. Was it a real good placer, with nuggets in it?--how much had
they pouched, and was the game likely to last? They grinned and patted
their waist-scarves, which, as he now remarked, were round and plump as
monster sausages.
'Oh, I know that trick,' laughed Mr. Ponder. 'You've filled them with
maize-flour for your journey.'
They whooped and roared with triumph. 'Say, Mis'r George, you tell
nobody--honour bright?-not nobody?' One of them turned down the edge of
his scarf, with no small effort--for it was twisted very tightly and
secured. Presently the contents glimmered into sight--little golden
figures, mostly flat, carved or moulded, one to three inches long. 'Our
placer all nuggets, Mis'r George!'
Any child in those seas would have understood. The Caribs had discovered
not a washing nor a mine, but a burial-ground of the old Indians, called
in those parts a 'huaco.' There are men who make it their sole business to
look for such treasure-heaps. Since they bear, in general, no outward
indication whatsoever at the present time, one would think that the hunt
must be desperate; but these men, like other gamblers, have their
'system.' Possibly they have noted some rules which guided the antique
people in their choice of a cemetery. And if they find one in a
lifetime--provided they can keep the secret--that suffices.
Mostly, perhaps, huacos are discovered by accident. So it was in the
memorable instance on Chiriqui lagoon, where many thousand people dug for
months and many brought away a fortune--for them. And so it was here. The
Caribs told their story gleefully. From the crest of the ridge the land
sloped gently down towards a stream. When they reached this place to
secure the timber, now dry, the rains were very heavy. But Sam and
another, heaven-directed, roamed down the slope. A big tree had fallen,
and among its roots Sam's lynx eyes marked a number of the little figures,
washed clean, sparkling in the sun-rays. These good fellows have no
secrets of the sort among themselves. They dug around, assured themselves
that it was indubitably a huaco; then returned, like honest Caribs, to
float the trunks down to Belize, and fulfil their contract, before
attending to personal interests.
They had cleared a space and built a hut of boughs, a 'ramada.' There Mr.
Ponder found them assembled, smoking and sleeping after the mid-day meal.
Warned by the guide's cheery shout they welcomed Mis'r George
heartily--all but Sam; unanimously they asked, however, what on earth he
wanted there, so far from home? Mr. Ponder told his complaint.
The gang resolved itself into a sort of court-martial forthwith, the
eldest seating himself upon a stump and the others grouping round. There
was a moment's silence for thought; then the president, gravely:
'You, Carib Sam, what you say?'
'Say d---- sorry, sah! Mis'r Brown an' all the Mis'rs make fool of me!
Then Mis'r George come--I never see Mis'r George before! He says go to
bush an' pick orchid--a month contract!--a month! But I found gold here,
an' I want pick it up--have no more say! d---- sorry!'
Mr. Ponder relented. 'Why didn't you explain at the time, Sam?--I'm quite
satisfied, Caribs! Sam and I will shake hands and there's an end of it!'
But the others were not quite satisfied. The president sat shaking his
head. 'When rains come,' said Sam to him anxiously, 'I get Mis'r George
two canoe-loads, six canoe-loads of orchid, an' no mistake!'
'There, men! That's final! Let's shake hands round, and wash away all
unpleasantness--here's the wash!--drink it up! Now will you show me your
huaco?'
First they showed him the plunder--hundreds of those little images, mostly
human, in the rudest style of art, but pure gold; a large proportion
alligators, some probably meant for birds, not a few mere lumps. Mr.
Ponder calculated rapidly that the whole might represent three thousand
pounds for division among ten men. But the Caribs began to fear that their
huaco would prove to be a very small one. The yield had been failing in
all directions lately. They had prospected round, but hitherto without
success. No bones, nor weapons, nor anything but a few jars of pottery had
been found. Such is the rule--without exception, I believe--in
burial-grounds of this class, without cairn or statues; in fact, it is a
mere assumption to declare them burial-grounds at all. Men who dug at
Chiriqui told me that nothing whatever besides gold was found in that
great area. The statement is not quite exact, but it shows how little
turned up.
The forebodings of the Caribs were sadly verified. Mr. Ponder started back
in the afternoon and they followed within a week--'made men' if they had
wit enough to keep their booty, but not so rich as they had hoped.
Next rains Sam loyally performed his promise. And thus it happened that
Messrs. Stevens were overwhelmed with Brassavola Digbyana once upon a
time.
LYCASTES, SOBRALIAS, AND ANGOULOAS
occupy different compartments in one house. The first will not detain us.
All the species which orchidists, in a lordly way, term common are
represented here--of course, by their best varieties. I can fancy the
wonder and delight of a stranger entering when the Lycastes Skinneri alba
and virginalis are in bloom, remembering my own emotion at the spectacle
elsewhere. Not many of the genus appeal to the aesthetic, and Skinneri in
especial lacks grace. But unsymmetrical form and abrupt rigidity of growth
are forgotten when those great flowers, so pure, so divinely white, burst
upon the eye. Charming also are the pale varieties of Skinneri, such as
_Lady Roberts_, a dainty rose, the petals only just dark enough to show up
the labellum almost white; and _Phyllis_ of somewhat deeper rose. Its
velvety lip has a crimson margin well displayed by a small white patch
upon the disc.
Leucantha, dainty green with white petals, is charming; a pan of aromatica
with fifty or sixty delicate golden blooms makes a pretty show. But these
things do not call for special notice.
There are varieties, however, of course, as the famous Lycaste plana
_Measuresiana_, coppery, shining, with pure white petals, crimson spotted,
and small white lip; plana _lassioglossa_, olive green of sepal and petal,
with a bright rusty stain at the base; lip white, with conspicuous white
spots.
_Fulvescens._--Large and spreading. Sepals and petals reddish orange, lip
clear brightest orange, so lightly poised that it quivers at a breath. It
has as many as forty flowers from one bulb sometimes.
_Denningiana._--Very large. Sepals and petals whitish green, lip brown.
_Mooreana._--An extraordinary variety of L. Locusta, which itself is
extraordinary enough. Reichenbach described Locusta in his lively way:
'Green sepals, green petals, green lip, green callus, green ovary, green
bract, green sheath, green peduncle, green bulbs, green leaves--just as
green as a green grasshopper or the dress of some Viennese ladies.'
Mooreana is larger, and the heavy fringe of the lip has a faint yellow
shade.
SOBRALIAS
It may be granted that all classes of orchid are not equally beautiful,
but to compare one with another in this point of view is futile. Each has
its own charm which individual taste may prefer, and to set Cattleyas, for
instance, above Odontoglots is only to demonstrate that for some persons
size and brilliancy of hue are more attractive than grace and purity. But
in any competition of the sort Sobralias must rank high. They are all
large, they have every fascination which colour can give, and the delicate
crumpling of the lip, characteristic of this genus alone, is one of
Nature's subtlest devices. Gardeners also approve them, for they need less
attention perhaps than any others, and they grow fast. The sagacious
reader will begin to ask by this time what are the disadvantages to set
against all these merits? There is only one, but for too many amateurs it
is fatal--the glorious flowers last scarcely two days. Certainly a spike
will carry four or five, or even six, which open one after another. But
then all is over till next year. And the plants are big, occupying much
room. Therefore Sobralias are not favoured by the wise, when space is
limited.
[Illustration: LYCASTE SKINNERI VAR. R. H. MEASURES.]
All are American, growing among the rocks and in the scanty soil of
mountain districts. One reads of species so tall that a man on horseback
must raise his arm to pick the flowers. This may be an exaggeration, but
we have Sobralia macrantha gigas here six feet high, and Hookerae even
topping it. Upon the other hand, that marvel, Kienastiana, has a very
modest stature. Nearly all the species known are here--it is not a large
genus: Lindeni, Hookerae, Lowii, macrantha and macrantha alba,
xantholeuca, and Kienastiana, which has its story.
_Measuresiana_ is uncommon; white, an immense flower. The vast lip,
circular, daintily crumpled, is palest pink, with a deep yellow throat,
round which the pink darkens to pale crimson. _Sanderae_ also is white,
faintly tinged with yellow.
In these days, however, it is the hybrids which interest us, and there are
two of surpassing merit.
_Amesiana_ (xantholeuca × Wilsonii).--Palest rosy lilac, somewhat more
rosy in the centre--the crumpled pink lip is as round and as big as a
crown piece. The cavity of the throat, orange, changes to gamboge as it
widens; encircling this is a stain of tawny crimson. Lip rose, shaded with
reddish brown.
_Veitchii_ (macrantha × xantholeuca).--White, with a pretty orange throat.
Round the edges of the lip, deliciously frilled and crumpled, is a broad
band of purplish pink.
Here and there in this house, as room can be made, stand many fine plants
of Laelia elegans. Beyond is a second compartment devoted to Lycastes and
Selenepeds, the name granted, for distinction's sake, to Transatlantic
forms of Cypripedium; in the gardener's point of view, however, there is
no difference between them, and such of these plants as call for notice,
in my very narrow space, are described among the Cypripeds.
One rarity, however, I must not overlook--Miltonia Binottii, assumed to be
a natural hybrid of M. candida and M. Regnellii; sepals and petals creamy
yellow, tinged with lilac at the base and barred with cinnamon brown; lip
pale rosy purple.
ANGULOAS
Nature has thought fit to produce many clumsy plants, and the
well-balanced mind raises no objection so long as they remain in their
proper place. A pumpkin is not a thing of grace, but then nobody calls on
us to admire it. There is little to choose between an Anguloa and a
pumpkin in the way of beauty; yet a multitude of people, not less sane to
all appearance than their neighbours, invite one to mark and linger over
its charms. This always seems very strange to me. I remember a painting of
Adam in Paradise, exhibited by an Academician famous in his day--less
perhaps for talent than for the popular belief that he wrote certain
wailing letters signed 'A British Matron,' which the _Times_ published
occasionally. Adam was sitting on a flowery bank. The good Academician had
all the Asiatic realm of botany before him, wherein to choose blooms
appropriate for Paradise; he spurned them all, crossed the Atlantic,
surveyed the treasures of the New World, and from the lovely host
selected--Anguloa Clowesii! Upon a bed of these Adam sat--of these alone;
nothing else was worthy of a place beside them. Evidently Anguloas have a
fascination. But my soul is blind to it. We have all the species here.
STORY OF SOBRALIA KIENASTIANA
There are startling flowers of divers sort. Some astonish by mere size, as
Rafflesia Arnoldii, which is a yard across and weighs fifteen to twenty
pounds, or Amorphophallus Titanum, eight feet high and fifteen inches
thick. The stench of these is not less impressive than their bulk; an
artist who insisted upon sketching the latter at Kew fainted over her
work. But many of the giants are beautiful, as the Aristolochias, like a
bag of silk cretonne with mouth of velvet, wherein a lady might stow her
equipment for an informal dance--shoes, gloves, fan, handkerchief, scarf,
and, if need be, a bouquet; Bomarias, the Peruvian wonder, trailing a
scarlet tassel three feet long and thick in proportion. Others are
surprising without qualification, like Nepenthes, which dangle a water jug
at the tip of every leaf. But among orchids alone you see flowers of
familiar shape and ordinary class, which startle you by the mere
perfection of their beauty. One of these is Sobralia Kienastiana. My first
sight of it at the Temple Show is not to be forgotten. I had been
thrilling and raving over a specimen of Cattleya intermedia Parthenia,
'chaste as ice and pure as snow,' when, turning to Baron Schröder's
exhibit, I beheld this glory of Nature. It has all the advantage of
'setting' denied to so many among the loveliest of its fellows. That
divine Parthenia must be regarded alone. It has no charm of environment.
But the Sobralia is a thicket, green and strong and pleasant to the eye,
crowned with the flowers of Paradise, snow-white, several inches broad,
but tender and dainty as the lily of the valley. Though open to the
widest, and exquisitely frilled, their petals are crumpled; you might
think fairies had been gauffering them and left the work incomplete,
surprised by dawn. Baron Schröder and Mr. Wilson of Westbrook, Sheffield,
had the only plants in England then; M. Kienast-Zolly, Consul at Zurich,
the only plant known elsewhere--a piece cut off when he sold the bulk.
That such a marvel had a legend I did not doubt. It is, in fact, an albino
of the common Sobralia macrantha; in speaking of it, by the way, to
scientific persons, or in referring to books, the word 'macrantha' must be
introduced. The family is Central American, and examples reach this
country especially from Mexico. A variety so rare and so charming would be
found in some hardly known spot. But orchids do not live in the desert. It
would be strange if Indians had not noticed such a wonder, and if they
noticed, assuredly they would prize it. They would not allow the plant to
be removed under ordinary conditions; if a price were accepted it would be
very high, but more probably no sum would tempt them. Therefore did I
conclude at sight that Sobralia Kienastiana had its legend. And I traced
without difficulty the outline which I have filled up.
M. Kienast-Zolly dwelt many years at Orizaba in Mexico, where he collected
orchids with enthusiasm for his own delight. An Indian servant gave
zealous help, partly, doubtless, for love of the flowers, but partly also
for love of the master whose 'bread he had eaten' from childhood--and
still eats, I believe. This man, Pablo, ceaselessly inquired for rarities
among his own people, made journeys, bargained, bought, and by times, they
say--but stole is not the proper word to use when an object has no owner
nor intrinsic value. Pablo had a younger brother, a priest, in the
neighbourhood of Tehuacan. They had not met since his ordination, until,
once on a time, M. Kienast-Zolly visited those parts, and Pablo took the
opportunity to spend a day and night at the Indian village, Nidiri, where
his brother was priest. This ecclesiastic was an earnest man. He found no
satisfaction in compounding the heathen practices of his flock for money,
as do his fellows. His legitimate dues sufficed him--I daresay they
reached ten pounds a year. He found a melancholy diversion in writing
plaintive memorials to the Bishop. Week by week the good man raised his
moan. He could not see very deep. It did not occur to him that the
Christian faith itself, as the Indians understand it, is but a form of
heathendom. The doings of which he complained were acts of positive
worship towards the old idols. He demanded an investigation, special
magistrates; in brief, the re-establishment of the Inquisition. The Bishop
had long ceased to acknowledge these dolorous reports; doubtless they
contained nothing new to him.
Out of the fulness of his heart a man speaketh, and after discussing
family affairs, the Cura broached his spiritual sorrows. Pablo had not
been trained at a seminary, and religious questions did not interest him.
As a townsman, also, he had picked up some liberal ideas, and when the
brother talked of converting his flock from their evil ways by force, he
observed that opinions are free in Mexico nowadays. Then the Cura grew
warm. Opinions? Rising hurriedly, he produced horrid little figures of
clay or wood, actual idols, found and confiscated, not without opposition.
When Pablo did not seem much impressed by these things--not unfamiliar,
probably--he hinted suspicions more awful. There was a spot somewhere in
the hills, frequented at certain seasons by these wretches, where they
performed sacrifice. Blood was shed, and the Cura had reason to think--he
dropped his voice, and bent across the little table to whisper awfully in
his brother's ear.
'Why,' said Pablo, 'if you can prove that, the Government will interfere
fast enough. It's murder!'
'I am not quite certain. But give me authority to arrest the Cacique--the
head-man of the village--and some others! They held one of their impious
festivals only last week. I met them returning just after dawn, crowned
with flowers, all the men intoxicated. Oh no, it wasn't a mere drinking
bout. The Cacique and that vile Manuele--whom I believe to be the
priest--carried nosegays of the accursed flower the demons give them. I
know it! They used formerly--the sons of perdition!--to bring it to my
church and offer it upon the holy altar. And I--Heaven pardon
me!--rejoiced in its beauty. With prayers and thanksgivings I laid the
Devil's Flower before the Blessed Mother. I did not know! It will not be
counted against me for a sin, brother?' So he went on, bemoaning his
unconscious offence.
Pablo woke up instantly. What did the Cacique do with his nosegay since he
was not allowed to deposit it on the altar? What sort of flower was it?
All this seemed trivial to the agitated Cura. With difficulty he was
brought to the statement that it resembled the Flor de San Lorenzo, but
snow-white. Then Pablo showed much concern. These shocking practices must
be made to cease; but first they must have evidence. That mysterious spot
on the hills? Did his brother know where it was? No, he had only pieced
together hints and fragmentary observations. They suggested a certain
neighbourhood. It had never occurred to him to look for it. If his
conjectures were sound, the place was desert. Indians always choose a
barren unpeopled site for their ancestral worship, as Pablo knew.
He considered. There was a certain risk, for the priests might dwell by
their idols. But most even of these look upon their Christian rival with
reverence. He asked his brother how he was regarded? Indignantly the
latter confessed that all these wicked folk treated him with the utmost
deference. He had denounced them again and again from the altar,
threatened to excommunicate the whole community--but the Bishop promptly
crushed that idea. They listened in respectful silence, and went their own
way. Pablo came to a resolve. He proposed that they should start before
daylight and search for the accursed place. The Cura was startled, but he
assented with passionate zeal; of his stuff, unenterprising,
unimaginative, with room for one idea only, martyrs are made. Martyrdom he
half expected, and he was ready. Whilst Pablo snored in his hammock, the
good man prayed all through the night.
It was still dark when they set forth, and before even Indians were
stirring they had passed beyond the village confines; but the sun was high
when they reached the hills. These are, in fact, a range of low volcanoes,
all extinct now; the most ancient overgrown with trees and brushwood, the
most recent still bare. Towards this part the Cura led the way. They
passed through blinding gorges where no green thing found sustenance.
Cacti and yuccas and agaves, white with dust, clung to the naked tufa. So
they went on, mounting always, encouraged from time to time by some faint
trace of human passage, which their keen Indian eyes discerned. But from
the crest nothing could be seen save gorges such as they had traversed,
and long slopes of dazzling rock.
The quest began to look hopeless, but they persevered. And presently Pablo
noted something on the ground, at a distance, beside a clump of Opuntia.
It was a bunch of withered flowers. Approaching they saw a cleft in the
ridge of tufa masked by that straggling cactus. They passed through--and
the idols stood before them! The Cura fell on his knees.
It was a small plateau, as white and as naked as the rest. In the midst
stood three cairns, each bearing large stone figures, painted red and blue
and yellow. Before each cairn was an altar, built of unhewn stones topped
by a slab.
The scene was impressive. Pablo recalled his prayers in looking on it. The
white and glittering dust lay even as a floor around those heaps of stone.
All was still, but the painted statues seemed to tremble and flicker in
that awful heat. Tiny whirls of sand arose, and danced, and scattered,
though never a breath of wind moved the burning air. The shadow of a
vulture sailing passed slowly from side to side.
The Cura ended his prayer, leapt up and rushed--his old black gown
streaming like wings. He grasped the foremost idol and pushed and pulled
with all his might--he might as well have tried to overthrow the rock
itself. Another and another he attempted; all in vain. He paused at
length, mopping his drenched face, disheartened but still resolved. Then
he took stones and battered the features.
Pablo was scarcely disappointed. So soon as they entered that barren
tract, he knew that the Flor de San Lorenzo could not live there.
Approaching he scrutinised the altars. Heaps of ashes and charred wood lay
upon them, beneath leaves and fruits and flowers, unburnt but shrivelled
and crackling in the sunshine. Carefully Pablo turned these over. On the
largest slab were found bones and dry pools of blood.
I have not room to follow the story in detail. Next day they started for
Orizaba, the priest carrying a passionate recital of these discoveries to
the Bishop. What came of it I do not know. Pablo returned forthwith, in
pressing haste, accompanied by two soldiers. With these he called on the
Cacique and charged him with human sacrifice. For a while the Indian could
not speak; then he vehemently denied the accusation. The conference was
long; in the end, Pablo admitted his innocence of the graver charge, but
the acts of paganry could not be disputed. He agreed to say no more about
them, however, on condition that the accursed flower should be surrendered
and destroyed in his presence. By evening it was brought. But he changed
his mind about destroying it just then. As has been said, this was the
pride of M. Kienast-Zolly's collection for many years; then it passed, the
half of it, to Baron Schröder, and a quarter to Mr. Wilson. Shortly
afterwards Mr. Measures secured the latter fragment.
The description of the sacred place certainly does not apply to an Indian
temple. The cairns were graves of ancient heroes doubtless, and the
figures portrait-statues, such as I myself have seen in abundance to the
southward. The Indians made this desert spot a temple perhaps, and treated
the statues as idols, when their places of worship were destroyed.
THE CYPRIPEDIUM HOUSE
Perhaps our collection is most famed for its Cypripeds. During twenty
years and more the owner has been securing remarkable hybrids and
varieties--labouring on his own account also to produce them. But the
pretty house which lodges these accumulated treasures is not more than 48
feet long and 17 wide. No room here for vulgar beauties; only the best and
rarest can find admission. There are, to be precise, 980 plants upon the
stages, 169 hanging from the roof. They are close packed certainly, but a
glance at the vivid foliage satisfies even the uninitiated that they have
space enough. Orchids generally are the most accommodating of plants--the
best tempered and the strongest in constitution; and among orchids none
equal the Cypripeds in both respects. It is pleasant to fancy that they
feel gratitude for our protection. Darwin convinced himself that the whole
family is doomed. In construction and anatomy it preserves 'the record of
a former and more simple state of the great orchidaceous family,' now
outgrown. Such survivals are profoundly interesting to us, but Nature does
not regard them kindly. They betray her secrets. All the surrounding
conditions have changed while the Cypriped clings to its antique model--at
least, it has not changed in proportion. Few insects remain, apparently,
adapted to fertilise it and it cannot fertilise itself. In the struggle
for existence, therefore, it is terribly handicapped. Man comes to the
rescue, and no class of orchid accepts his intervention so readily.
It is a pretty house, as I have said. Experienced gardeners have a deep
distrust of pretty houses. Picturesque effect and good culture can seldom
be reconciled; the conditions needed for the one are generally fatal to
the other. But here we have a pleasing exception. All is green and
fresh--no brickwork, nor shelves, nor pipes, nor 'tombstone' labels
obtrude upon the view. The back wall is draped with ferns and creepers,
orchids peeping through here and there. A broad stand down the middle,
accommodating five rows of Cypripediums on either side, has all its
substructures masked with tufa, which bears a mantle of green. The side
stands, each accommodating seven rows of pots, are equally clothed in
verdure, moss and fern. At the end, through a glass partition open in the
centre, is a fountain, with similar stands all round it. And--an essential
point, whereby we understand the glorious health of all these
plants--there is not one which the gardener cannot see perfectly as he
goes by, and reach without an effort, saving those overhead in the middle.
No chance of thrips flourishing unsuspected in this house, nor of slugs
following their horrid appetite from pot to pot unnoticed.
Since it is especially the number of rare 'garden mules' which have won us
renown, I ought perhaps to say a word in passing upon the matter of
hybridisation. But what can be said in a few lines? It is a theme for
articles and books, even in the hands of a smattering amateur like myself.
The public has no suspicion how far this novel manufacture has been
carried already. There is a hint in the tiny volume compiled by Mr. R. H.
Measures 'for private circulation,' showing the number of hybrids in the
genus Cypripedium of which he could hear. It contains more than eleven
hundred items. Of these we have upwards of eight hundred in our
collection. But it must be remembered, in the first place, that there is
no authoritative list as yet; each inquirer must get information as he
can. In the second place, that the number increases daily. Such a list
could be framed only by an international committee of botanists, for in
France and Belgium orchid-growers are as enthusiastic as our own; whilst
in Germany, Italy, Austria and the United States, if the workers be
comparatively few they are very busy.
It has often been suggested that an Orchid Farm would pay handsomely, if
established in some well-chosen district of the Tropics and intelligently
conducted. A gentleman resident in Oviedo, Florida, Mr. Theodore S. Mead,
has carried the notion into practice on a small scale with startling
results. I quote from the _Orchid Review_, June 1896:--
'I have built a small platform in the top of a live oak, about 45 feet
from the ground ... where I propose to try seeds of some thirty or forty
different orchid crosses, including pods from Vanda coerulea and Cattleya
citrina, which are thought difficult to manage under glass...'
In September 1897 we hear further:--
'The season has been a very trying one, and though my orchid-eyrie in the
live oak-top promised great success in June, it was very difficult to keep
the compost in good condition during the hot, muggy days of July. Still,
out of thirty-two crosses planted on a space of peat, 16 inches long by 12
broad, I obtained plants having first leaf of twenty-two of them--mostly
Cattleyas and Laelias;--though a good many died when it was necessary to
transplant them, on account of mould and algae threatening to swamp the
tiny plants. A single plant of Vanda coerulea × V. Amesiana appeared, and
is now showing its third leaf. This year I have repeated the cross Bletia
verecunda × Schomburgkia tibicinis and have several plants in their first
leaf; and also one of Bletia verecunda crossed with our native Calopogon
pulchellus...'
In March 1899:--'... My seed-planting was very successful after June in
polypodium fibre (fresh fern mats) in my tree-top eyrie, and from July
till October I averaged 500 little hybrids transplanted to pots every
month; about one-fourth still survive.... I had an ancient moss-grown
magnolia chopped down and cut into slabs, some thirty of which I planted
with orchid-seed and kept sprayed. The slabs coming from near the ground
scarcely germinated a seed, but those from 20 to 30 feet up yielded from 2
to 3 up to about 150. I also tried oak bark, but while the seeds started
promptly they were more subject to disease;... when transplanted to pots
nearly all died.
'_Note._--These magnolia slabs were placed in a green-house, not in the
"eyrie."'
It is hardly worth while to quote the list of seedlings obtained by Mr.
Mead through crossing plants of the same genus. But here are some
successes which, very few years ago, would have been declared flatly
impossible--as impossible as a fertile union betwixt cat and dog.
Cattleya amethystoglossa × Epidendrum O'Brienianum; a few plants alive.
Cattleya amethystoglossa × Epid. radicans; two plants alive.
Schomburgkia undulata × Epid. radicans; several plants.
Cattleya Bowringiana × Epid. cochleatum; several plants.
Epidendrum nocturnum × Epid. osmanthum and Epid. cucullatum, pollen mixed;
several plants.
Cattleya Bowringiana × Epid. osmanthum (Godseffianum); three plants.
Bletia verecunda × Schomburgkia tibicinis; several plants.
Bletia verecunda × Calopogon pulchellus; one or two plants.
Schomburgkia tibicinis × Laelia purpurata; one plant.
The discovery that fertile unions may be concerted between species, and
even genera, differing in all visible respects, gives profound interest to
the study of hybridisation in the scientific point of view. We have gone
so far already that classifications which appeared to be unquestionable
have been rudely upset. That Laelias and Cattleyas should combine is not
surprising, even though one come from North Mexico and the other from
South Brazil. But what shall we say when Epidendrums combine with
both?--with Sophronitis, Zygopetalum!--nay, with Oncidium!!--with
Dendrobium!!! Sobralia proves fertile with Cattleya; so does Sophronitis.
Spathoglottis has been crossed with Bletia and with Phajus. Zygopetalum
with Colax, with Oncidium, with Epidendrum, with Odontoglossum.
Schomburgkia with Laelia and Bletia. Combinations even more astonishing
are reported, but for those named there is responsible authority.
I cannot go into detail; these remarks are designed only to call attention
to the subject. Not all the bigeneric hybrids mentioned have flowered; and
at the present time we have learned enough to be aware that possibly one
parent will be ignored by the offspring--that a seedling of Epidendrum
crossed with Dendrobium, for example, will bloom a pure Epidendrum or a
pure Dendrobium of the species used; which in itself is sufficiently
strange. But seedlings have actually been produced in every case which I
have named. It is one of the fixed rules in biology that the offspring of
different species must be barren--otherwise the parents are not truly
species--and that different genera will not breed at all. But in most
instances which have been brought to the test as yet, hybrid orchids of
different species prove fertile, and some bigeneric crosses yield a
progeny at least. What follows? Evidently that the genera or the species
are not really distinct--in the cases given. Must we admit, then, that a
Dendrobium of the Himalayas (crystallinum) does not differ generically
from an Epidendrum of Mexico (radicans)?
This is not the place to argue it out; nor, in truth, would there be much
profit in arguing the question while the number of facts to be adduced is
still so small that error is not improbable. I hope I have made it clear
that the hybridisation of orchids is the most fascinating of botanic
studies at this time; which is all I have in view.
But professional 'growers' are not likely to help the cause of science
much--no blame to them either. They cannot afford to make experiments
which demand a great deal of time, and increasing attention, for years,
from the most highly-paid of their staff--too probably remaining a dead
loss after no small portion of a lifetime has been spent in bringing the
produce to flower. A man of business must make such crosses as are most
likely to pay in the shortest time--easy species, big, highly coloured.
Under the best conditions he must wait three to six years, perhaps ten, or
even more. Evidently the most valuable hybridisations in a scientific
point of view would be those least likely to succeed; all would be
doubtful, all would require a long term of years, and most would not
'sell' in the end probably. Such work is for amateurs.
I can mention only a few of the Cypripediums here which seem most notable,
and it will always remain dubious whether I have chosen the best examples.
_Bellatulum eximium._--The dorsal is small, low and spreading, white, with
carmine specks along the edges, large red-chocolate spots inside. Petals
closely depressed, mottled with carmine here and there at the edges, and
spotted like the dorsal. Lip insignificant--white with a few small dots.
_Olivia_ (tonsum × concolor).--Dorsal white above, changing to pink; base
greenish, slenderly feathered with carmine. Petals bowed, flushed with
pink, pink lined, dotted with carmine. Slipper pink, deepening to carmine
along the front, fading at the toe.
_M. Finet_ (callosum superbum × Godefroyae).--White with a faint rosy
blush. At the base of the dorsal is a greenish tinge, which reappears
somewhat stronger on the petals. There are a few specks of crimson on the
latter, and a few crimson markings at the top of the slipper.
_Gertrude Hollington_ (ciliolare × bellatulum).--A flower of remarkable
size. The dorsal is low but exceedingly broad; white, very strongly scored
with crimson. Upon the scores stand spots of maroon, and a crimson splash
follows the midrib. The great broad petals are white of ground, but
obscured at the base by a cloud of crimson-maroon, save the edges. Crimson
lines, carrying spots and specks of maroon, overrun the whole. Slipper
purplish crimson.
_Macropterum_ (Lowii × superbiens).--Dorsal green, darker below. Petals
long, curving downwards, greenish at base, heavily spotted; the ends
clouded with purple. Slipper large, tawny purple.
_Bellatulum album._--The pure white variety of this striking species, so
densely spotted in its normal form. It was discovered by Mr. R. Moore when
Assistant-Commissioner of the Shan States in 1893. The dorsal is very low,
spreading and depressed; the high-shouldered petals clasp the slipper
close all round, in such manner that their ends hang below its tip.
Grandly beautiful.
_Baconis_ (chlorops × Schlimii).--Very small, rosy. Sepals scored with a
brighter hue. They reverse half their length, showing the back of
brilliant rose. Slipper carmine.
_H. Ballantine_ (purpuratum × Fairieanum).--Dorsal rosy white, ribbed with
dark crimson branching lines. Petals greenish, lined, dotted, and edged
with coppery crimson. Slipper purple above, green below, handsomely lined
with crimson.
_Barbato-bellatulum._--Takes after the latter parent in shape, but all
purple; the white-edged dorsal lined and the petals finely spotted with a
darker tint.
_Mrs. E. Cohen_ (callosum × niveum).--All pinkish white, suffused with
crimson, lined with crimson and speckled with purple. Slipper
carmine-purple.
_Cardinale_ (Sedenii × Schlimii-albiflorum).--Takes its name from the
carmine slipper. White in general colour; the petals have a rosy base and
rosy tips.
_Chrysocomes_ (caudatum Warcewiczii × conchiferum).--Dorsal
greenish-yellow, edged with white. Its tip or crest is most extraordinary,
hanging forward like a tongue between high jaws curved and serrated. The
ochreous-greenish petals have an edging of crimson and an outer edging of
white, prettily frilled and gauffered. They twine and twist through a
length of ten or twelve inches, showing the crimson reverse.
_Claudii_ (Spicerianum × vernixium).--The dorsal is white above, with a
strong purple midrib, and a purple flush towards the edge; the base is
olive green. Petals olive green, shaded in a darker hue, and tipped with
purple. The slipper purple above, green below.
_Beeckmanii_ (Boxalli sup. × bellatulum).--The yellow-green dorsal is
broadly margined in its upper part with white, and marked profusely with
large crimson-brown spots. The petals are depressed, spreading like wings,
of madder-purple hue, lined and spotted, the lower margin greenish.
Slipper dark purple, with a greenish toe.
_Bellatulum egregium._--Doubtless a natural hybrid. The depressed dorsal
is pale green, spotted with pink in lines. Petals and slipper white above,
pale greenish below, with large pink spots all over. A most remarkable
variety.
_Brownii_ (leucorrhodum × longifl. magnificum).--The dorsal takes a very
singular form. Narrow and almost rectangular, it is sharply constricted
towards the top, then widens out again like the ace of spades. The colour
is white, touched with green and rose. Petals long, narrow, with an edging
of carmine, and outer edging of white; as they reverse towards the tip the
colour is all rose. Big broad slipper, rosy, prettily spotted with carmine
on the white lining.
_Antigone_ (Lawrenceanum × niveum).--The big dorsal sepal is pink with a
white border. Strong branching ribs of crimson spring from a base of vivid
green and form a network. The drooping petals show a deeper pink, with
similar lines and maroon specks; as does the slipper.
_H. Hannington_ (villosum × fascinator).--The great dorsal bears a purple
mauve cloud within its broad white margin, changing to dusky green at the
base and scored with branching lines of somewhat darker mauve. Petals and
lip greenish ochre, frilled and shining, lined with brown in dots.
_Hector_ (Leeanum var. × Sallierii var.)--Dorsal white with a
greenish-blue centre, traversed by dull brown lines. Petals yellow at the
base, set with a quantity of short, stiff black hairs; changing to
ochreous dun, the upper half bearing a dusky brownish network. Lip of the
same dusky hue.
_Myra_ (Chamberlainianum × Haynaldianum).--Tall, graceful in form as in
colouring. The long narrow dorsal is pale green, edged with white. At the
base is a patch of dusky chocolate and spots of the same tone run upward
in lines. The pale-green petals, narrow and rectangular, bear a few large
dun blotches outlined with chocolate; their tips reverse, showing a faint
mauve tint.
_Aphrodite superbum_ (niveum × Lawrenceanum).--The same parentage
reversed; as usual the produce is quite dissimilar. Its colour is white,
purple-tinged except the margin, overlaid with a crimson network of dots.
Another example from the same seed-pod has a palest pink network instead
of crimson, and tiny dots of maroon. It looks like the ghost of its
sister.
_Arnoldiae_ (bellatulum × superciliare).--Whitish, with bold spots of
crimson-brown arranged in lines upon the dorsal. Slipper purple-lake
above, greenish below.
_Arnoldianum_ (superbiens × concolor).--Dusky shining yellow, tinged at
the edges with crimson, spotted and lined with the same. A hybrid
remarkable for its shyness to flower.
_Cyanides_ (Swanianum × bellatulum).--A dusky flower, of green and purple
tones. The greenish dorsal is clouded at base, lined and spotted, with
purple. Petals the same, but the spotting is darker and more distinct.
Slipper clear purple.
_Callosum Sanderae._--A sport or natural hybrid of most singular beauty. I
remember the delighted amazement which possessed me when Mr. Sander
unlocked a door and showed this exquisite flower just opening--a treasure
hidden from all but the trustiest friends until it could be displayed at
the Temple Show in 1894. The great dorsal sepal is white above, tender
green in two shades below, with strong green lines ascending from the
base. The petals, much depressed, are bright green, lined with a darker
hue and tipped with white. The slipper yellowish-green.
It may be mentioned that the owner of this collection declined to accept
1000 guineas for his stock of callosum Sanderae three years after buying
the original plant.
_Aylingii_ (niveum × ciliolare).--Small, white ground. The dorsal and
petals alike are boldly striped with carmine-crimson. Slipper all white.
_Conco-Curtisii._--The triangular dorsal is bright green in the centre,
with a dark crimson cloud at the base and crimson lines. The broad
depressed petals are dark crimson, fading towards the tips, similarly
lined. Slipper green at the toe, crimson above.
_Conco-callosum._--The dorsal, almost a diamond in shape, is crimson, with
darker lines extending from a greenish base; petals greenish, margined,
lined and spotted with crimson. Slipper crimson-purple above, green below.
_Alfred_ (laevigatum × venustum).--Strong ribs of crimson-brown circle up
from a green base over the white dorsal, which is pointed sharply. The
drooping twisted petals are brightest green above, with a white margin,
changing to tawny crimson as they reverse. The whole heavily spotted with
crimson-brown. Slipper green, broadly netted over with a darker tint.
_Calloso-niveum._--Where the parentage is shown in the name it need not be
expressed at full length. A pale flower, dorsal and sepals greenish at
base, faintly tinged and lined with pink, dotted carmine.
_Amphion_ (Harrisianum × Lawrenceanum).--The grand dorsal
sepal--greenish-yellow, dotted and ribbed with coppery brown--has a broad
white margin. Petals narrow and bowed, greenish at base, changing to
copper; a few heavy dots. The slipper coppery.
_Cowleyanum_ (Curtisii × niveum).--Dorsal low and spreading, purplish and
lined with purple; the edges white. Petals purple, very much darker at
base and tips, with a white outline above, and tiny speckles of purple.
Purple slipper.
_Conco-Lawre_ (concolor × Lawrenceanum).--Dorsal large, suffused and lined
with purple, edged white. Petals green at base, margined and lined with
crimson, with a few dots of chocolate. Slipper purplish above, greenish
below.
_Curtisii_ (Woodlands variety) does not depart from the ordinary form in
its scheme of colouring, but all the hues are intensified, and the
enormous slipper, tinged with green at the edge, is deepest
crimson-maroon.
I may interrupt the dry enumeration with a story.
[Illustration: CYPRIPEDIUM. WILLIAM LLOYD.]
STORY OF CYPRIPEDIUM CURTISII
My tales do not commonly bear a moral. If one they have it is apt to be
such as grandmamma teaches--foresight, perseverance, the habit of
observation. Those virtues need no finger-post. They are illustrated by
the story of Cypripedium Curtisii, and rewarded there, as they should be
always, by a notable instance of luck. I have not heard of any special
circumstances attending the first discovery of this plant. It was found in
Sumatra by Mr. Curtis, travelling for Messrs. Veitch, in 1882--a large
green flower, margined and touched here and there with white, the pouch
vinous purple. This brief and vague description may suffice for readers
who take more interest in romance than in orchidology. Mr. Curtis did not
tell the world at large where he found the treasure. It was his intention,
doubtless, to work the mine himself. But after sending home the first
fruits, he was offered the Directorship of the Botanic Gardens at Penang,
and left Messrs. Veitch's service. He may well have hoped to revisit
Sumatra one day, but the opportunity never came. Messrs. Veitch knew the
secret, doubtless, and kept it faithfully; but they took no steps. And so,
the first consignment being scanty, no more arriving, and the plant
growing in favour, Cypripedium Curtisii rose to famine price.
The St. Albans firm took note of this. The home of the new Cypriped was
admitted. Sumatra yields a profitable harvest always, even of familiar
species, and besides, there is an excellent chance--vastly stronger
fifteen years ago--of finding novelties. An intelligent man upon the spot
should be able to trace the route of an earlier traveller. One of the St.
Albans staff was disengaged. In short, Mr. Ericsson, a Swedish collector
of great experience, was commissioned to seek Cypripedium Curtisii. He
sailed in 1884. Nearly five years did Ericsson wander up and down the
island--that is, in the Dutch territory. Working at leisure from Bencoolin
northwards, he searched the range of mountains which bounds it on the
east, and often descended the further slope--visiting peoples scarcely
known, whom the Dutch had not yet invaded. They proved to be amiable
enough. Many fine orchids did he send home, and the issue of the search
was patiently awaited at St. Albans.
It did not seem more hopeful as years went by. Mr. Curtis's footsteps were
traced easily enough here and there; but the Dutch frontier officials
rarely speak any language but their own and the Malay, nor does their
discourse generally turn upon orchids when they have a visitor. It was
just as likely as not that Ericsson had already traversed the district he
sought, without identifying it. Cypripeds, as a rule, occupy a very narrow
area, especially the fine species. They are a doomed race, belonging to
the elder world, and slowly following its inhabitants to extinction. That
fascinating theme I must not touch; readers interested may refer to
Darwin. The point is that a collector may skirt a field of Cypripeds very
closely without suspecting his good fortune.
But travel in Sumatra at that time was more limited than it had been--more
than it is now. The Achinese still held out--for that matter, while I am
writing, comes news of a skirmish wherein three officers and nineteen
soldiers lost their lives. Ten years ago that stubborn and fearless
people not only defended their own soil but also made forays into the
Dutch territory. Desperate patriots allied themselves with the Battas, a
cannibal race dwelling between their country and the province of Tapanuli;
and hatred to the white man--or rather to the Dutch--carried the Achinese
so far, though strict Moslems, that they tempted these savages to move by
a promise of surrendering all captives--to be devoured. Thus the northern
parts of Dutch Sumatra were very unsafe. When Ericsson desired to explore
there he was refused permission. At Padang, the capital, however, in 1887,
he made acquaintance with the Controleur--Magistrate, as we should say--of
Lubu Sikeping, a district which lies along the Batta country. This
gentleman spoke Swedish--an accomplishment grateful beyond expression to
Ericsson, who had not heard his native tongue for years. Promptly they
made friends.
The Controleur had been summoned to report upon the state of things in his
Residency. He presented a long list of outrages and murders. Scores, if
not hundreds, of peaceful subjects had been not only plundered and killed,
but eaten, on Dutch soil, in the last few months. He represented that
active measures must be taken forthwith. The Battas, inhabiting a high
tableland beyond the mountains, crept through the defile, ravaged, burnt,
massacred, and trooped back, carrying their prisoners away for leisurely
consumption. Before news of the inroad reached the nearest outpost they
were half-way home. Smaller parties lay in wait along the roads, stopping
all communication. They had not yet ventured to assail a post, or even a
large village, but the Achin desperadoes urged them to bolder feats, and
they grew continually more aggressive. An expedition must be sent. It need
not be large, for the cannibals are not fighting men. The Governor was
persuaded. He ordered a small force to be equipped, and meantime the
Controleur returned to his station.
It was a rare opportunity for Ericsson. He begged permission to accompany
his new friend, who good-naturedly presented him to the Governor. An
historian may be allowed to say that the hero of this narrative is fat,
and there is no offence in supposing that the most exalted functionary has
a sense of humour. His Excellency appears to have been tickled. The
cannibals would rage with disappointment in beholding this succulent
mortal--beyond their reach. He laughed and consented. I have no details of
the expedition striking enough to be set down in a brief chronicle like
this. It was a slow and toilsome march through jungle and mountain passes,
the Barizan range, where a score of determined men might have stopped an
army. The Achinese proved that; they held the force at bay for hours in a
gorge, though less than a score. But the Battas would not fight even when
their capital was reached, on Lake Toba. The Rajahs submitted, paid an
indemnity, gave hostages, yielded up the surviving victims, and undertook
to have no more dealings with the Achinese. So the matter ended. Ericsson
found some new plants in their country, and many old well worth
collecting. Doubtless the results would have been far more important could
he have wandered freely. But those demons of Achin hung upon the line of
march, joyously sacrificing their own lives to kill a Dutchman. If his
personal adventures were not so curious, however--perhaps I should rather
say so dramatic--that I could single out one of them, Ericsson gained much
information about an extraordinary people. I can only set down a few
facts.
He says that the Battas themselves do not regard their cannibalism as an
immemorial practice. They have a story, not worth repeating, to account
for it. But I may observe that if Marco Polo's 'kingdom of Mangi, called
Concha,' lay in those parts, as geographers believe, some race of the
neighbourhood was cannibal in the thirteenth century. 'They commonly eat
men's flesh, if the person die not of sickness, as better tasted than
others.' That is the motive still--the only one adduced--mere liking.
Elsewhere the practice may be due to superstition in one form or another;
among the Battas it is simply _gourmandise_. The head Rajah questioned
gave a matter-of-fact answer. 'You Dutch eat pig,' said he, 'because you
like it; we eat man because that is our fancy.' To be devoured alive is
the punishment of four offences among themselves--adultery, robbery after
nightfall, unprovoked assault, and marrying within the clan; the last an
interesting item of which Sir John Lubbock should certainly take note for
his next edition of _The Origin of Civilisation_. The instinct of
'exogamy' has no such striking illustration elsewhere. As for foreigners
and strangers there is no rule; they are devoured at sight. And it may
well be believed that people so fond of eating one another do not demand
unquestionable evidence when a man of low station is charged with one of
the four crimes which may give them a meal. I must not repeat the horrors
which Ericsson learned. Suffice it that the victim is tied up, and those
present exercise their choice of morsels. At a former time, they say, not
long ago, the flesh was cooked--a statement which confirms the theory, so
far as it goes, of a recent introduction. At this present they dip the
slice in salt and pepper and eat it on the spot.
A good many missionaries, English, Dutch, French, and American, have not
only settled on the confines of the Batta territory, but have travelled in
the interior. The earliest of these, Messrs. Ward and Burton, found the
people kindly, which again must be noted as suggesting that they were not
so ferocious in 1820. The second party, Messrs. Lyman and Munson, of
Massachusetts, were eaten. Mdme. Pfeiffer nearly crossed the tableland
unmolested, though the savages were not friendly; but, as she says, they
regarded her as a witch. Encouraged by this example, three French priests
made an attempt two years later; they were promptly devoured. Two Dutchmen
shared their fate not long afterwards, and the Government forbade more
experiments.
I have no room for detail, but one very curious point must be indicated.
These cannibals unredeemed possess an alphabet of their own, bearing no
resemblance to the Malay, which latter is a corrupt amalgamation of
Arabian, Persian, and Tamil. The Batta characters are original. They write
commonly on strips of bamboo, scratching the letters.
On the return of the expedition, a party of invalids was despatched to the
local sanitarium on Selimbang Hill, and Ericsson obtained leave to
accompany it. There was no danger now. A few huts had been built there for
troops, and a bungalow for officers--who made him welcome, of course. They
arrived at dusk. The officers went out early next morning to their duties,
and Ericsson lay waiting for his coffee. The rough timbers of the bungalow
were concealed by boards, smooth and neat. Invalids quartered there had
amused themselves by scribbling their names. Some, more ambitious, added
verses, epigrams, and caricatures; others, drawings and even paintings.
From his bed-place Ericsson scrutinised these artless memorials in the
early light. Presently he observed a flower--a Cypripedium; the shape
could not be mistaken. It was coloured, but dimly--the tints had soaked
into the wood. With professional interest his eye lingered on this sketch.
And then the first sun-ray streamed across the verandah and fell upon the
very spot. Its faded colours shone brightly for a moment, green, white
margin, vinous purple--Ericsson sprang out of bed.
No room for doubt! To make assurance doubly sure there was an
inscription--'C. C.'s contribution to the adornment of this room.'
Hurriedly he sought a pencil and wrote--'Contribution accepted.
Cypripedium collected, C. E.'
It was not such a smart _réplique_ as the occasion seems to demand. But
Ericsson is perfectly well satisfied with it to this day.
We can imagine how blithely he set to work that morning. Cypripedium
Curtisii was selling in London at the moment for many guineas--a small
plant too. And he had found the goose with golden eggs innumerable,
waiting to be picked up. These orchids 'travel' well. There was no great
distance to carry them before embarkation. The good fellow's fortune was
made, and he had the pleasure of knowing it well earned.
With such cheerful thoughts, Ericsson sallied out day after day for a
while, searching the mountain. He had a following of miscellaneous
'natives' by this time, experienced in their work. The neighbourhood was
rich. Every evening they brought in a load of orchids more or less
valuable, but never Cypripedium Curtisii. He engaged men of the district
and showed them the picture. Some recognised it, and undertook to bring
specimens; but they were always mistaken. The invalids withdrew, one after
another. Ericsson found himself alone. His accumulated spoil of plants,
well worth shipping, began to be as much as he could transport. As time
went by, despair possessed him. After all, it did not follow that Mr.
Curtis had found the prize just here because he painted it on the wall. To
discover a new and fine orchid is a great achievement, and the lucky man
might very well commemorate it anywhere when choosing a device.
Finally, 'time was up.' To wait longer would be sacrificing the great heap
of treasures secured. After shipping them he might return. It was a sad
disappointment after such reasonable hopes, but things might have been
worse. So Ericsson gave orders to pack and start as soon as possible. When
all was ready, on the very evening before departure, one of the local
assistants brought him a flower. This time it was right. In three days
several thousand plants had been collected, and Ericsson went his way
rejoicing.
No reader, I hope, will fancy that these coincidences are invented. The
story would be childish as fiction. It is literal fact, and therefore only
is it worth telling.
[Illustration: CYPRIPEDIUM × ROTHWELLIANUM.]
CYPRIPEDIUMS--_Continued_
_William Lloyd_ (bellatulum × Swanianum).--The white crest of the dorsal
rises from a dull crimson blur with greenish centre, overrun with crimson
lines. The petals have a dull crimson ground, paler below, densely
speckled with maroon, the ends just tipped with white. Slipper, shining
maroon.
_A de Lairesse_ (Curtisii × Rothschildianum).--The fine dorsal is white,
with a greenish centre and faint purple edges, the lines clear purple.
Petals long and drooping, pale green, edged with white; all covered with
purple spots. Slipper, ochreous brown.
_Juno_ (Fairieanum × callosum).--The broad white dorsal, green at base,
tinged with purple, and strongly scored with purple lines, is actually the
widest part of the flower, as in Fairieanum. The narrow petals curl down
close upon the slipper, green in paler and darker shades, with bunches of
purple hair, like those on a caterpillar, at the edges, and pale purple
tips. Slipper, dusky greenish with brown lines.
_Saide Lloyd_ (venustum × Godefroyae).--Dorsal small, bright green with
darker lines. Petals purplish above, greenish below, speckled with small
dots of crimson and strong spots of maroon. Slipper, ochreous yellow,
dotted with crimson at top and netted with green.
_Cymatodes_ (Curtisii × Veitchii).--The fine dorsal is green, fading to
white, with a pretty narrow edging of pink, and boldly ribbed. The
petals, dark at base, change to green, and towards the tips have an edging
of profuse crimson specks. The slipper, very wide at the mouth, is
greenish.
_Dauthierii albino._--A wonderful sport. Up the grass-green dorsal, edged
with white above, run strong lines of darker tone. The petals, very narrow
at base, are yellowish green, suffused and lined with copper above, paler
below. The slipper shows similar colouring.
On the same plant, open at the same time, but from another stem, was a
flower of the common Dauthierii type. Still more remarkable, one year this
second stem bore a flower of which half the dorsal was pale yellow, the
other half coppery green, as is usual, thus betraying a futile inclination
to rival its albino sister. The petals were scarcely affected, however.
_Dauthierii marmoratum._--Another abnormal form. The point of the dorsal,
and the high shoulders, are white, the rest crimson-maroon. From the point
descend three or four broad lines, or long splashes, of green, with
striking effect. The petals are marbled longitudinally with purple on a
dusky ground. The lip is dull, dusky crimson.
_Lord Derby_ (Rothschildianum × superbiens).--An immense flower--the grand
dorsal rosy white, tinged with pale green in the middle, pale purple on
either hand, dark lines circling upward over all. The petals, outlined
with purple at the base, change to pale green, almost to white, below and
at the tips. Great spots of darkest crimson stud the whole. Slipper
maroon, greenish at the toe.
_Evenor_ (Argus × bellatulum).--Ground-colour throughout ochreous yellow.
The dorsal has a purplish base and maroon lines of dots. Broad round
petals, closely spotted with maroon. Slipper purplish above, ochre below.
_Excelsior_ (Rothschildianum × Harrisianum).--Dorsal long,
high-shouldered, greenish, with darkest crimson edging lines of the same
tint, and white margin. Petals depressed, of a like green, crimson along
the upper edge, covered with the heavy spots and hairs of Rothschildianum.
Slipper very long, dull crimson.
_Engelhardtiae_ (insigne Maulei × Spicerianum).--The dorsal has very broad
shoulders, narrowing to a wasp-waist, where the upper white changes
abruptly to bright green, spotted with pink. A strong crimson line runs
from base to tip. Petals so evenly curved downwards that they seem to make
a half-circle, coppery yellow in hue, handsomely gauffered on the upper
edge, and lined with copper colour. Immensely wide lip, coppery ochre with
a bright green lining.
_Edwardii_ (superbiens × Fairieanum).--Dorsal long, white-edged, stained
at the margin with purplish crimson and lined with the same. Short narrow
petals, very strongly bowed, greenish, edged throughout with purplish
crimson. Slipper green at toe, coppery above.
_Fairieanum._--No orchid is so interesting as this in the point of view
which may be called historic. In the autumn of 1857, Mr. Reid of Burnham
and Mr. Parker, nursery-man, of Holloway, sent flowers of it to Sir W.
Hooker at Kew, asking what they might be. Shortly afterwards Mr. Fairie of
Liverpool showed a plant in flower at the R.H.S. meeting, and Dr. Lindley
named it after him. It is believed that all these plants were bought at
Stevens' Sale-rooms among a number of orchids forwarded from Assam. But
none have turned up since, and attempts to find the habitat have been
totally unsuccessful.
Those who expect to see a flower big in proportion to its fame will be
disappointed; but if small, indeed very small, Cyp. Fairieanum is striking
both in form and colour. The upstanding dorsal has a crest, from which the
sides curl back. Its ground-colour is white with a greenish tinge. Broad
lines of maroon fall downwards from the crest, lessening as they go, but
multiplying towards the edges, where they form a close network. The petals
curl as sharply as a cow's horn, inverted at the tips to show a maroon
lining; they are greenish above, with three sharp little maroon bars at
the base, and slender lines of maroon; maroon also is the narrow edging.
The shield of the column, small as it is, cannot be overlooked, for it
shines like a jewel--exquisitely mottled with the brightest green,
accentuated by a tiny arch of maroon on either side. Slipper greenish,
with blurred lines of maroon.
_Gertrude_ (Chamberlainianum × insigne Chantinii).--Dorsal white above,
bright green below, heavily dotted in lines with crimson-brown. Petals
finely gauffered, dusky crimson, spotted. The slipper, crimson-purple,
looks very bright by contrast.
_Tesselatum porphyreum_ (concolor × barbatum).--The pale ochreous tone of
one parent and the purple of the other have produced a very remarkable
result in combination. The general effect distinctly red. The round dorsal
is reddish above, of a deeper shade at base, with dotted lines of red; the
petals curve down, dark red at the base, fading towards the ends, which
are clothed in a pretty network of pale red. The green slipper is clouded
and netted over with crimson.
_Telemachus_ (niveum × Lawrenceanum).--The dorsal, very broad, is tinged
with purple in the centre. Crimson lines ascend from a green base and the
margin all round is white. The petals are green, changing to purple, with
darker lines and spots. Slipper crimson.
_Tautzianum lepidum_ (niveum × barbatum Warneri).--A rosy flower, covered
throughout with lines and network of crimson. The lip darker.
_Georges Truffaut_ (ciliolare × Stonei).--Very large. The tall dorsal has
crimson edges and lines, greenish centre. The twisted petals--greenish,
with crimson lines, very large maroon spots and crimson-purple tips--hang
loosely. An enormous slipper, all crimson-brown.
_Mrs. E. G. Uihlein_ (villosum aureum × Leeanum giganteum).--The dorsal
rises to a point between shoulders perfectly square, white, with a heavy
slash of copper from base to crest; the centre greenish-coppery, with
lines and mottling of pale crimson. Petals green in the upper half,
clouded and lined with copper; paler below. Slipper similar.
_Venustum_ (Measures variety).--A remarkable sport. Small. The white
dorsal is striped with clear green lines, rising from a green cloud at the
base. The ochreous copper petals have a green base. Slipper the same,
covered with a pretty green network.
_Watsonianum_ (Harrisianum nigrum × concolor).--The white crested dorsal
shows a crimson line in the centre, green on either side, crimson towards
the edges. The petals, dark green at base, fade to a paler tint, and the
ends are crimson; all softly lined with crimson. Slipper maroon.
_Woodlandsense_ (Dayanum × Javanicum virens).--Among the rare Cypripeds in
this collection, I have noted several of which the dorsal sepal bore a
cap, elaborate as eccentric in shape. But this is most singular of all.
Between the point of the dorsal and the shoulder is a process which I can
only describe in architectural language as a volute reversed; an addition
so abnormal and inexplicable that I really find nothing to say about it.
In other respects the dorsal is striking--handsomely rounded, white with a
rosy margin, the vivid green at the base not fading softly but abrupt
almost as a splash; petals the same vivid green, with maroon spots and a
stain of copper at the ends. The rosy stamenode shows well upon this
ground. Slipper pale green, with a pleasing network of copper.
_Zeus_ (tonsum × Boxallii).--The white globular dorsal rises from a very
slender green waist, with a broad dark-crimson line up the centre. Petals
dark coppery in the upper half, pale below. Slipper dusky.
_Annie Measures_ (bellatulum × Dayanum).--Dorsal yellowish, outlined
white, covered with slender purple lines and dots. Large smooth petals,
netted over with small crimson dots in a pattern. Slipper narrow, dull
crimson above, white toe.
_Frau Ida Brandt_ (Io grande × Youngianum).--The large dorsal, white at
the edges, is suffused with green and purple; the long petals, green and
purple, are depressed. Heavy spots of crimson-brown, furnished with stiff
hairs, cover them. Handsomely reversed at the tip. Slipper
greenish-coppery.
_Adrastus_ (Leeanum × Boxallii).--Here the large white dorsal with green
base is heavily blotched with red-brown in the centre, lightly at the
sides. The closely drooping petals, yellowish green, have the upper half
splashed and mottled with a lively brown almost obscuring the
ground-colour, which reappears in the lower half. Lip green at toe,
coppery above.
_Athos_ (parentage unknown) has an odd colouring--ochreous-green sepals,
outlined with white and profusely dotted with brown; petals bright ochre,
the upper length scored with lines of raw sienna. The lip similar.
_Arthurianum pulchellum_ (Fairieanum × insigne Chantinii).--The green
dorsal is thickly dotted all over with brown; the tip falls over, showing
its white underside. Petals depressed, greenish, charmingly frilled,
clouded and lined with copper-brown above, spotted with copper below.
Slipper greenish, handsomely veined and marbled in a soft coppery tone.
_Astraea_ (laevigatum × Spicerianum).--Dorsal white, with a pale green
base, whence a heavy radius, maroon in colour, mounts to the tip; petals
narrow, loosely hanging, greenish at base, crimson-purple through most of
their length, marked with red lines. Slipper greenish, stained with
purple.
_Aurantiacum_ (venustum × insigne aureum).--Ochreous-green dorsal, its
square top broadly crowned with white, spotted below with brownish-red;
petals darker, similarly spotted. The slipper harmonises.
_Cleopatra_ (Hookerae × aenanthum superbum).--A striking flower--deep
glossy crimson, ribbed with a darker hue. On the upper length of the
petals are heavy warts; the lower has a greenish tawny stain at base, like
the slipper.
_Lily Measures_ (Dayanum × niveum).--The dorsal is white, daintily
flushed, with green base. Lines of red dots ascend from it, growing
smaller and fainter as they rise. Such lines form a pleasing network on
the petals, which have a yellowish smear at the base. The slipper
corresponds.
_Lawrebel_ (Lawrenceanum × bellatulum).--A grand and gorgeous hybrid. The
green patch at the base of the dorsal is promptly swallowed up by a
crimson cloud, which again fades into a delicious mottling of crimson on a
white ground. The petals are vivid green above, paler below, both changing
to crimson at the tips. Slipper yellowish at the edge and the toe, crimson
between.
_Lawrebel_ (Woodlands variety) shows the difference of colour so often
found among seedlings of the same parentage and the same 'batch.' Here the
crimson is by no means so bright, in fact purplish, but it covers nearly
the whole surface of the dorsal, and what remains is not white but green.
On the petals also, which are broader, green occupies nearly all the
space, though less vivid, and the crimson of the tips almost disappears.
They are heavily spotted with maroon. Slipper dusky purple, netted over
with maroon.
_La France_ (nitens × niveum).--White and very graceful. The only trace
of colour appears in broad pink spots at the base of the dorsal, and
smaller spots, more profuse, at the base of the petals. On the slipper
they are smaller still, set along the edge.
_Lawrenceanum-Hyeanum_ has a broad white dorsal, clouded with green at the
base, and marked with handsome green lines. The narrow petals stand out
firmly, vivid green, with lines of a deeper shade. The slipper also is
green but pale. Another example is very much larger.
_Lawrenceanum Sir Trevor._--This is no hybrid, but a wonderful variety of
the species. The dorsal strangely broad and depressed--squat in fact.
White in colour, with superb green lines mounting from the green cloud
below, it sits tight over the rectangular petals of dark but vivid green,
marked with deeper lines. The slipper is yellowish-green.
_Leucochilum giganteum_ (assumed to be a hybrid of Godefroyae ×
bellatulum).--A compact flower, of which the three parts seem equal in
size. White, with a faint ochreous tinge; covered throughout, saving the
margin, with crimson spots, which form almost a blotch in the midst of the
dorsal. Slipper small and white.
_Leysenianum_ (barbatum Crossii × bellatulum).--The dorsal is very
handsome and striking, bright crimson at top, fading to a dusky base,
lined with crimson. The clinging petals, tawny green in the upper length,
are washed with crimson in the lower; all profusely spotted with maroon.
Slipper dull crimson.
_Mrs. Fred Hardy_ (superbiens × bellatulum).--A very dainty hybrid. The
dorsal, white with a greenish centre, is covered with interlacing crimson
lines dotted with maroon, saving the clear margin. The petals almost form
a semi-circle, greenish with a white edge, netted over with pale crimson
and dotted with maroon in lines. The slipper greenish, with a pretty pink
network round the upper part.
_Holidayanum_ (concolor × almum).--Excepting a narrow white margin the
dorsal is bright crimson, darkening towards the greenish base; petals
greenish, with edges and dotted lines of crimson. Slipper dull crimson,
with yellowish toe.
_Hirsuto-Sallierii._--The upper half of the dorsal is white, the lower
clear yellow-green, the whole covered with antlered lines of grass-green;
petals yellow-green, finely frilled, tipped with palest purple. Pale
purple and greenish also is the slipper.
_Mrs. Herbert Measures_ (Lathamianum × Leeanum giganteum).--The great
dorsal, yellow tinged with purple, has the shape of a flattened peg-top. A
broad splash of maroon bisects it. The cinnamon-coloured petals are
flushed with red, and lined with the same tint; the midrib is maroon.
Slipper abnormally wide, purplish.
_Javanicum._--A species, named from its habitat. Small and solidly green
save the white crest of the dorsal, and the pale purple tips of the narrow
petals. Such strong and decided colouring makes it useful to the
hybridiser.
_Measuresianum_ (villosum × venustum).--The small triangular dorsal,
white, is evenly striped with green; petals yellow-green, with a
grass-green base and emerald lines from end to end. The slipper shows a
charming network of vivid green on a tawny yellow ground.
_Marchioness of Salisbury_ (bellatulum × barbatum superbum, Sander's
variety).--Dorsal hollow, broadly crimson all round the margin, dusky
white inside, striped with crimson and speckled with maroon. Petals
closely depressed, white, with a shade of green above, of crimson below,
dotted with maroon. Slipper tawny crimson, with clouding of the same.
_Marshallianum_ (venustum-pardinum × concolor).--Unique in effect. Dorsal
and petals ochreous white, with a faint crimson flush; all densely
covered with minute crimson dots. Slipper of a yellow almost bright.
_Brysa_ (Boissierianum × Sedeni candidulum).--A handsome plant, with long
pale leaves. Dorsal greenish, corkscrew petals similar, tinged with pink.
Slipper pale pink, all the inside prettily dotted with brown.
_Muriel Hollington_ (niveum × insigne).--A broad flower but compact. The
globular white dorsal has a pink cloud at the base and dots of crimson.
The petals, similar, have crimson lines. Slipper prettily mottled with
pink.
_Lavinia_ (concolor × barbatum).--White of ground-colour all through, with
a faintest flush of rose-pink. The whole of the dorsal marked with maroon
dots upon regular lines of crimson. The broad drooping petals are spotted
irregularly with the same tint. The narrow white slipper has a close array
of crimson dots round the edge.
_Cydonia_ (concolor × Curtisii).--Dorsal flesh-colour at the edges; in the
middle a broad green stain which fades towards the apex. Midrib
brown-crimson, with a paler network of the same over all. Petals crimson
above, then greenish, pink or light crimson below, with faint lines and
sharp little dots of crimson-brown. Slipper brownish and green.
_Symonsianum_ (volonteanum × Rothschildianum).--Impressive for size and
width, but not brilliant nor attractive in colour. Dorsal greenish, with
pink-flushed edges, marked by strong lines of crimson-brown. Petals
greenish, tipped with pale crimson, strongly dotted along the edges with
the bristling tufts of Rothschildianum. Slipper nondescript--greenish and
purplish.
_J. Coles_ (Godefrovae-leucochilum majesticum × Dayanum superbum).--A
charming flower. The dorsal is purplish crimson, with a pretty tinge of
green in the midst and narrow white edges; the whole lined and netted
over with crimson-purple. Petals the same, very dark at base, paling to a
greenish centre; all closely spotted with the dark crimson tone. Slipper
maroon, highly polished.
_Princess May_ (callosum × Sanderianum).--A stately bloom, of impressive
colouring. The tall bulbous dorsal is white at the crest, crimson-lake
below, pale green at base; the whole striped with maroon and with crimson
dots. Petals long, drooping far below the greenish slipper, green in the
midst, with crimson edges and profuse dottings of crimson.
_Pylaeus_ (Cardinale × Sedeni).--Pink and pretty. The pointed dorsal is
pale pink above, greenish in the midst. The sharp pink petals have edges
of carmine, and carmine tips. The pouch-like slipper is crimson; its
lining ivory, marbled with pink.
_Phoebe_ (laevigatum × bellatulum).--Rosy-white throughout. The dorsal
bears a cloud of crimson-lake, sharply defined, darkening to maroon at the
base, whence proceed heavy branching lines of crimson and maroon. The
petals, crimson-stained above, heavily dotted all over with maroon, have
white margins. Slipper bright crimson at the top, whitish below.
_Paris_ (bellatulum × Stonei).--A grand beauty. The broad globular dorsal
has a greenish patch in the midst, surrounded by purple, netted all over
with maroon lines. The edges are pure white, as distinct as if drawn with
the brush. Petals depressed, curiously blunted at the tips,
verdigris-green at base, fading and changing to dusky crimson, with heavy
spots of deepest maroon. Slipper purple, netted over with carmine;
yellowish at the toe.
_Rowena_ (Chamberlainianum × bellatulum).--Dorsal greenish-yellow above,
darkest maroon below; branching maroon lines circle upwards. Petals
greenish towards the tips, clouded at base, edged, scored, and dotted all
over with maroon-crimson. The shield of the column intensely dark maroon
and shining. Slipper striped with a pleasant pale crimson, and closely
speckled over with tiny points of a darker shade.
_Mrs. W. A. Roebling_ (caudatum × leucorrhodum).--The colouring is very
delicate. Dorsal long, with a twisted crest; all stainless grass-green.
Petals, which make one complete revolution or twist, softly greenish in
the middle, edged with tender pale crimson, which also appears on the
reverse; the lower base shows a brilliant decoration of tiny crimson bars
round the column. The pouched slipper, bright pink, has a yellow lining,
freckled with greenish dots.
_Reticulatum._--A species, known also as Boissierianum, as curious as
charming. The dorsal, of extraordinary length and the same narrow width
throughout, curls over at the crest--bright pea-green, with slender lines
a shade darker. The petals have the same slender green lines; they are
very thin, closely and evenly twisted in six complete spirals. The shield
of the column intensely dark green. Slipper green, its lining snow-white,
with purple dots.
_Charles Richmond_ (bellatulum × barbatum superbum).--The broad purplish
dorsal has a whitish outline and a greenish tinge in the centre; its
midrib is very strong purple, as are the lines which intersect it. Petals
purple, darker at the base, dotted all over with maroon. Slipper dark
purplish-crimson. In colour, shape, and size alike this hybrid is most
impressive.
_Schofieldianum_ (bellatulum × hirsutissimum).--Very distinct. On a
yellowish-white ground the dorsal has a pale greenish centre, surrounded
by purple, deepening at the base; all scored with branching lines of
purple in dots. The petals are broad and strong, yellowish-white, tinged
with purple, closely covered with maroon-purple dots. Slipper
purplish-crimson, greenish at the toe.
_Southgatense_ (callosum × bellatulum).--The dorsal has a rosy-white
ground, very heavily clouded with dark crimson below, and almost hidden by
strong lines of crimson and maroon. The petals have a touch of bright
green at the base, edges of a lively dark crimson, and strong dots of
maroon. Slipper crimson, dusky yellow at the toe.
_Southgatense superbum._--This is another example of the difference which
seedlings from the same pod may display; cases even more striking could be
adduced with ease. Incomparably finer than the last. The rosy-white dorsal
is stained with crimson up to the edges, and scored with darker lines. The
petals, slightly greenish at the base, have a dotting of crimson on their
rosy-white ground. The slipper, whitish, is prettily speckled with crimson
round the top.
_Massaianum_ (superciliare × Rothschildianum).--A large bold flower.
Dorsal white, greenish in the middle. Clear thin lines of purple, almost
black, alternate with lines equally thin of pale green. The fine long
petals are greenish above, palest purple below, with the massive spots of
Rothschildianum. Strong hairs line the edges. The broad shield is dusky
ochre. Slipper maroon, netted over with a deeper shade.
_Miss Clara Measures_ (bellatulum eximium × barbatum
grandiflorum).--Lively dark crimson. The crest of the dorsal is handsomely
defined by semicircular scallops on each side. Petals depressed, clinging
to the slipper, greenish at base, fading and changing to the same bright
dark crimson as the dorsal; all speckled finely in a deeper shade. Slipper
crimson. A grand flower.
_Measuresiae_ (bellatulum × superbiens).--Dorsal rosy, with green tip and
a faintly green centre, dotted over with maroon in lines. Petals rosy
white, tinged with purple above, strongly speckled with maroon. Slipper
crimson, fading towards the toe, covered with crimson dots.
_Winifred Hollington_ (niveum × callosum).--Dorsal pale dusky crimson,
purple at base; lines of the same colour, accentuated by dots. The
handsome petals are pale purple, with darker branching lines and specks
over all. Slipper purplish, with pale crimson lines.
_Nitidum_ (selligerum majus × nitens).--Very large. The broad white edges
of the dorsal fold sharply back. It is green in the midst, with green
lines and longitudinal rows of strong dark brown spots. Petals clear brown
above, with a tinge of maroon, paler below, with spots of the same.
Slipper brownish. The whole polished and shiny to a degree which gives it
the name nitidum.
But there was one astonishing peculiarity in the flower which I saw--the
first produced. Everyone knows that in the genus Cypripedium the two lower
sepals are fused together, making a single limb, small commonly,
insignificant, and nearly hidden by the slipper. But in this case there
was no attempt at fusion. The lower sepals stood out as clearly as in a
Cattleya, one on each side the slipper--whitish, with green lines and
crimson spots at the base. It will be interesting to observe whether this
deformity--which is in truth a return to the more graceful pristine
form--will prove to be permanent.
_Sir Redvers Buller._--A new hybrid of which the parents are understood to
be Lucie × insigne; the former itself a hybrid--Lawrenceanum × ciliolare.
I have not seen the flower, which is thus described in the _Gardeners'
Chronicle_, Jan. 20, 1900: 'The fine dorsal is of a pale-green tint in the
lower half with dark chocolate-purple dotted lines; the upper portion pure
white, with the basal dark lines continued into it, but of a deep
rose-purple. The petals are yellowish, tinged with rose on the outer
halves and blotched with dark purplish chocolate. Lip greenish with the
face tinged reddish-brown.'
[Illustration: CYPRIPEDIUM BOISSIERIANUM VAR. BUNGEROTHI.]
STORY OF CYPRIPEDIUM PLATYTAENIUM
This is the rarest and costliest of all orchids--of all flowers that blow,
indeed, and all green things, from the cedar of Lebanon to the hyssop upon
the housetop. I think it no exaggeration to say that a strong specimen
would be worth its weight in diamonds if a little one--for the most
enthusiastic of millionaires seem to lose courage when biddings go beyond
a certain sum. But it is long since any plants came into the market.
I suppress part of the name, as usual, fearing to daunt casual readers. Be
it understood that this treasure is a variety of Cypripedium Stoneii; the
specific title should be introduced in speaking of it. Doubtless
platytaenium is a very handsome member of the family, impressive in size
and shape, elegantly coloured. But one who regards the flower with eyes
undazzled by fashion may pronounce that its value lies mostly in its
renown.
But one plant has ever been discovered; and that came to Europe
unannounced. Messrs. Low sold a quantity of a new Cypripedium from Borneo.
Some pieces were bought by Mr. Day, of Tottenham, at an average of eight
shillings each. They flowered successively, and Mr. Day named the species
Stoneii, after his excellent gardener. In 1863, however, one appeared
different to the rest--different, as it has proved, to all the myriads
which have been discovered since. This was named platytaenium. But besides
the merit of rarity, it is distinguished by a peculiar slowness of
growth. Mr. Day multiplied the specimen as fast as he could, but between
1863 and 1881 he only succeeded in making four small plants from it. One
of these was sold to Mrs. Morgan, of New York; it perished, doubtless, for
when, at her death, a Cypriped was put up under that hallowed name, and
bought at a long price, it proved to be the common Stoneii. Mr. Dorman, of
Sydenham, was the victim. I may mention that two of the largest
orchid-dealers in Europe sent an agent expressly to buy this 'lot' in New
York. Mr. Day then had three left. One of them he divided, and gave a
fragment to his sister, Mrs. Wolstenholme. The Tottenham collection was
dispersed in 1881; Mr. Day kept one small plant, Baron Schröder bought one
for £106; Mr. Lee, of Leatherhead, and Sir Trevor Lawrence, in
partnership, one for £147. Three or four years afterwards this was
divided, each partner taking his share. Baron Schröder afterwards bought
Mr. Lee's. Also he bought the one Mr. Day kept back, for £159:12s., at the
death of that gentleman. Then Mrs. Wolstenholme's executors put up her
example--which had never flowered--and Baron Schröder secured it for £100.
These prices do not seem to bear out my statement that platytaenium is the
most valuable of all orchids. Infinitely greater sums have been paid. But
it must be remembered that these were all tiny bits, weakened by division
whenever they grew big enough to cut. At present Baron Schröder and Sir
Trevor Lawrence have all the stock existing, to human knowledge. How much
either would obtain at Protheroe's for his little hoard makes a favourite
theme for speculation in a gathering of orchidists. They have one
significant hint to go upon. Two years ago Mr. Ames, of Boston, U.S.A.,
commissioned Mr. Sander to offer Sir Trevor Lawrence a cheque of 800
guineas for one plant. And Sir Trevor declined it.
Now for the legend. That consignment of Cyp. Stoneii in which platytaenium
appeared was forwarded by Sir Hugh Low from Sarawak. He recalls the
circumstances with peculiar distinctness, as is natural. The plants were
collected on the very top of a limestone hill at Bidi, near Bau, famous
afterwards in the annals of Sarawak as the spot whence the Chinese
insurgents started to overthrow the government of Rajah Brooke. But the
gold washings had not been discovered then. Such Chinamen as dwelt in the
neighbourhood were mostly gardeners and small traders. A few sought
nuggets in holes and fissures of the limestone, and found them, too,
occasionally. Sir Hugh Low could never frame a satisfactory explanation of
the presence of gold under such conditions, but it is frequent in Borneo.
That auriferous strata should decompose, and that nuggets should be
transferred to another formation during the process, is easily
intelligible. But in many instances, as at Bau, the gold is found at a
considerable height, and no trace remains of those loftier hills from
which it must have fallen. Deposits of tin occur under just the same
circumstances in the Malay Peninsula.
The top of this little hill was a basin, much like a shallow crater,
encircled by jagged peaks as by a wall. Each of these was clothed in the
glossy leaves of Cyp. Stoneii from top to bottom, as it would be with ivy
in our latitude. So easy was orchid-collecting in those days. Sir Hugh had
but to choose the finest, and pull off as many as his servants could
carry. In the hollow of the basin other Cypripeds were growing--plants
with spotted foliage--and he has not ceased to regret leaving these
untouched, since wider knowledge inclines him to fancy that they belonged
to species not yet introduced. At one spot, however, beneath the shadow of
the little peaks, gold-seekers made a practice of camping. Ashes lay thick
there, and bits of charcoal and dry bones. Here sprang a single tuft of
Cyp. Stoneii, and in passing Sir Hugh was tempted to dig it up. He
cherishes a suspicion--which he does not attempt to justify, of
course--that this solitary plant, growing under conditions so different to
the rest, was platytaenium.
Some years afterwards, a young clerk in the service of a German firm at
Singapore, visited Sarawak on his holiday. Orchids made a standing topic
for conversation in that early time. He heard much about Mr. Day's
priceless Cypriped at the capital, and he resolved to try his luck. I may
call him Smidt for convenience; my informants are not sure of the name,
after a lapse of forty years.
There is no trouble in reaching Bau. The village stands on the river
Sarawak, and at any moment of the day a sampan can be hired to take one
thither. Smidt did not travel in luxury. If he kept a 'boy' at Singapore,
like a thrifty young Teuton he left him behind. Servants are as easily
found in those countries as sampans, if one be not too particular. Smidt
engaged a Chinaman who had good recommendations, though not of recent
date, nor from persons living in Sarawak; he had come thither from Penang
to 'better himself,' as he said, and had been working at the gold-fields.
For convenience again we may give him a name--Ahtan.
The project of visiting Bau was not agreeable to this Chinaman. 'I makee
bad pigeon there one time,' he said frankly. But the objection was not
serious.
Bau had changed since Sir Hugh Low's day. In the meantime the Dutch
authorities at Sambas had irritated the gold-diggers of that region to the
point that they massacred a body of troops--I do not mean to hint that the
Dutch policy was unjustifiable. In consequence a great number of Chinamen
fled across the frontier, found profitable washings at Bau, and invited
their comrades. So many came, and they showed such a lawless spirit from
the outset, that the Rajah's government took alarm. But as yet all was
quiet enough.
Smidt had obtained a note from one of the Chinese merchants at Sarawak,
with whom his employers did business, to the head of the Kunsi--the
Gold-diggers' Union, as we should say. That personage invited him to use
his house. Unwillingly did Ahtan accompany his master. He bowed before the
Kunsi chief, and made a long discourse with downcast eyes and folded
hands. The chief answered shortly and motioned him to go about his
business.
If Smidt made inquiries about that wonderful organisation, the Kunsi of
the gold-diggers at Bau, so soon to be crushed in a mad revolt, assuredly
he found matter to interest him. The parent society in Sambas has annals
dating back two hundred years, and its system was imported, they say, from
China without alteration. There is no reason to doubt the statement.
Anyhow, we find among these immigrants, two centuries ago, a perfected
system of trade union, benefit clubs, life assurance, co-operative stores,
and provision for old age, such as British working-men may contemplate
with puzzled and envious despair at the present day. Every detail is so
well adjusted--by the experience of ages--that disputes scarcely ever
arise; when they do the Council gives judgment, and no one questions its
decision. The earnings of the whole body are stored in the Treasury. There
is a general meeting once a fortnight, when the accounts are audited in
public, and each member receives his share as per scale, subject to the
deduction for veterans' past work, widows and orphans, and also for the
goods he has bought at the co-operative store. But I must not linger on
this fascinating theme.
Next day Smidt started to explore the famous hill with Ahtan, who carried
the tambok--the luncheon basket. He found Cypripeds beyond counting and
noted certain spots to be re-visited. Then he chose a shady nook for
lunch, and Ahtan lit a fire.
It was beneath a wall of limestone, a tangle of foliage above, where the
sunlight struck it, but clothed only in moss and ferns and bare roots in
the shade below. There was wind upon the hill as usual, and Ahtan made his
fire in a cleft.
Smith sat on a log opposite, smoking, after the meal. He remembered
afterwards that Ahtan was eager to start, packing his utensils hastily,
and predicting 'muchee rain by'm bye minute.' But no signs of change were
visible. Presently the Chinaman put a quantity of green leaves upon the
fire. Such a volume of smoke arose as called Smidt's attention.
It was in a cleft, and he sat opposite, as has been said. The blaze had
scorched that drapery of ferns. The moss just above had peeled off in
flakes, taken fire mostly and dropped. So in places the rock stood bare.
Looking in that direction now, Smidt observed a yellow gleam, hidden by
smoke for a moment, then reappearing more distinctly. It was worth
investigation. He rose leisurely and crossed the little space. Ahtan was
standing on one side. As he scattered the fire with his foot, looking for
that yellow gleam the while, a tremendous blow felled him. He was dimly
conscious of another before his senses fled.
Not till sunset did Smidt feel strong enough to descend the hill; before
starting he looked for the 'yellow gleam'--it had vanished, and in place
of it was a hole. Bloodstained and tottering he regained the public path.
Diggers returning from their work laughed heartily at the spectacle, but
perhaps they meant no harm. Chinamen must not be judged by the laws that
apply to other mortals. At least they warned the chief, who sent two
stalwart members of the Kunsi to assist his guest. They also found the
situation vastly amusing, but they were kind enough.
The chief had a bottle of skimpin ready. He set a slave to wash Smidt's
head, and clothed him in a snowy bajo. No questions did he ask. Smidt told
his short story, and begged him to pursue the malefactor.
'No good, sir,' said the chief. 'I policeman here--I know. Where you think
Ahtan?'
'In the jungle, I suppose, making for Kuching with the great nugget he
picked out of the rock. Send to warn the Tuan magistrate, at least.'
'I say, sir, I Tuan magistrate here, and I know.' He unlocked a coffer,
iron-bound, using three separate keys; brought out a parcel wrapped in
cloth and slowly unfolded it, looking at Smidt the while, his narrow eyes
twinkling.
'You say nugget, hey?'
Smidt gasped. It was a lump of gold as big as his two fists.
'Is this--is this mine?'
The chief sat down to laugh and rolled about, spluttering Chinese
interjections.
'Is this mine? He-he-he-he! Mine? This gold, sir! Kunsi take gold--all
gold here! You says, mine, sir? Ha! ha! ha!'
Smidt did not feel assured of his legal rights.
'You took it from Ahtan?' he asked. 'Did you arrest him?'
The chief had another fit. Recovering, he answered, 'Ahtan down this way,'
and stamped upon the ground.
'In the cellar? Oh, that's a comfort! I'll carry him to Kuching
to-morrow.'
This caused another outburst of merriment. 'I tell, sir, I Tuan magistrate
at Bau. Ahtan he under order for kingdom come to-night.'
This was rather shocking. 'Oh, I don't ask that. He must be tried.'
'What your matter, sir?' the chief snapped out. 'I try him, and I say die!
Ahtan is Kunsi man. He play trick before--I let him go. We catch him on
river with gold. He die this time.'
Doubtless he did--not for attempted murder, but for breaking his oath to
the Kunsi. Smidt ought to have denounced this monstrous illegality to the
Rajah. But his firm did a great business with Chinamen, and their secret
societies have a very long arm. I imagine that he held his tongue.
STORY OF CYPRIPEDIUM SPICERIANUM
The annals of Cypripedium Spicerianum open in 1878, when Mrs. Spicer, a
lady residing at Wimbledon, asked Messrs. Veitch to come and see a curious
flower, very lovely, as she thought, which had made its appearance in her
green-house. Messrs. Veitch came; with no extravagant hopes perhaps, for
experience might well make them distrustful of feminine enthusiasm. But in
this instance it was more than justified, and, in short, they carried off
the marvel, leaving a cheque for seventy guineas behind. I may remark that
Cypripeds are easy to cultivate. They are also quick to increase. Messrs.
Veitch hurried their specimen along, and divided it as fast as was safe.
To say that the morsels fetched their weight in gold would be the reverse
of exaggeration--mere bathos.
Importers sat up. They were not without a hint to direct their search in
this case. The treasure had arrived amongst a quantity of Cyp. insigne.
Therefore it must be a native of the Himalayan region--Assam, Darjeeling,
or Sikkim, no doubt. There are plenty of persons along that frontier able
and willing to hunt up a new plant. A good many of them probably received
commissions to find Cypripedium Spicerianum.
At St. Albans they were more deliberate. It is not exactly usual for
ladies residing at Wimbledon to receive consignments of orchids. When such
an event happens, one may conclude that they have relatives or intimate
friends in the district where those orchids grow; it will hardly be waste
of time anyhow to inquire. A discreet investigation proved that this
lady's son was a tea-planter, with large estates on the confines of
Bhutan. With the address in his pocket Mr. Forstermann, a collector of
renown, started by next mail.
Orchids must be classed with _ferae naturae_ in which a landowner has no
property. But it is not to be supposed that a man of business will tell
the casual inquirer where to pick up, on his own estate, weeds worth
seventy guineas each. Forstermann did not expect it. Leaving his baggage
at the dak bungalow, he strolled afoot to the large and handsome mansion
indicated. Mr. Spicer was sitting in the verandah, and in the pleasant,
easy way usual with men who very rarely see a white stranger of
respectable appearance, he shouted:
'Are you looking for me, sir? Come up!'
Forstermann went up, took an arm-chair and a cheroot, accepted a
comforting glass, and sketched his experiences of the road before
declaring even his name. Then he announced himself as an aspirant
tea-planter, desirous to gain some practical knowledge of the business
before risking his very small capital. In short, could Mr. Spicer give him
a 'job'?
'I'm afraid not,' said Mr. Spicer. 'We have quite as many men in your
position as we can find work for. But anyhow you can look round and talk
to our people and see whether the life is likely to suit you. Meantime,
you're very welcome to stay here as my guest. If you've brought a gun, my
manager will show you some sport; but he's away just now. Oh, you needn't
thank me. In my opinion it's the duty of men who have succeeded to help
beginners along, and I'm sorry I can't do more for you.'
Forstermann remembers a twinge of conscience here. It may be indubitable
that orchids are _ferae naturae_. But they have a distinct money value for
all that, and to remove them from the estate of a man who gives you a
reception like this! Anyhow, he felt uncomfortable. But to find the thing
was his first duty. Possibly some arrangement might be made, though he
could not imagine how.
The invitation was accepted, of course, and a week passed very pleasantly.
But Forstermann could not bring his host to the point desired. Several
times they observed Cypripedium insigne whilst riding or driving about the
neighbourhood. Mr. Spicer even remarked, when his attention was called to
it, that he had sent a number of plants home; but nothing followed. Then
the manager returned, and the same night an appointment was made to go
after duck on the morrow.
Forstermann turned out at dawn, but his companion was not ready. He gave
the explanation as they rode along.
'We had another _chelan_ last night--you have learnt the meaning of that
word, I daresay!--a faction fight among our people. The coolies on this
estate come mostly from Chota Nagpore, and thereabouts. They're good
workers, and not so troublesome as regular Hindus when once they've
settled down. But there's generally a bother when a new gang arrives. We
tell our agents to be very careful in recruiting none but friendly clans.
Young Mice and Fig Leaves we find best among the Oraons, Stars and Wild
Geese among the Sonthals.' Forstermann was puzzled, but he did not
interrupt. 'It's no use, however. They take any fellow that comes
along--and between ourselves, you know, considering how many of those
scamps bolt with the contract-money and never enlist a soul, we haven't so
very much to complain of. It's a bad system, sir!
'Well, when they get here, a mixed lot, they find half a dozen mixed lots
established. We have, to my knowledge,' reckoning on his fingers,
'Tortoises, Tigers, Crows, Eels, Grass-spiders, Fishing-nets--ay, and a
lot more, besides Stars and Wild-geese. Of course, they quarrel at sight,
and we don't interfere unless the _chelan_ gets serious. What's the good?
But, besides that, there is a standing provocation, as you may say. Some
of our coolies have been with us many years. They don't care to go
home--for reasons good, no doubt, but it's not our business. Well, two of
these fellows have married--one, a Potato, has married the Stomach of a
pig----'
'Eh?' Forstermann could not contain himself.
'Those are their families, you know.' The manager, quite grave hitherto,
laughed out suddenly. 'Of course, it seems mighty droll to you, but we're
accustomed to it. Each clan claims to be descended from the thing after
which it is named. You mustn't ask me how the Stomach of a pig can have
children. That's beyond our understanding. The point is that certain of
these stocks may not intermarry under pain of death--that's their law. So
you may fancy the rumpus when strange Potatoes arriving here find one of
their breed----' he laughed again. 'It does sound funny, when you think of
it! Last night, however, when the usual disturbance broke out--a new gang
arrived yesterday, you know--Minjar, the Eel, who is the other fellow that
has married some girl he ought not to, declared he had made
blood-brotherhood with the chief of the Bhutias across the river, who
would come to avenge him if he were hurt. And I fancy that's not quite
such nonsense as you would think. I saw Minjar there that time I got the
orchid----'
Forstermann heard no more of the tale. The orchid! They reached the pool,
and he shot ducks conscientiously, but his thoughts were busy in devising
means to lead the conversation back to that point.
There was no need of finesse, however. At a word the manager told
everything. He it was who found the Cypripedium which had caused such a
fuss, when shooting on the other side of the river--that is, beyond
British territory. Struck with its beauty, he gathered a plant or two and
gave them to Mr. Spicer. It took him several days' journey to reach the
spot, but he was shooting by the way. Tigers abounded there--so did fever.
The mountaineers were as unfriendly as they dared to be. For these reasons
Mr. Spicer begged him not to return. The same motive, doubtless, caused
the planter to be reticent towards others.
With a clear conscience and heartiest thanks Forstermann bade his host
farewell next day. He had a long and painful search before him still, for
his informant could give no more than general directions. The plant grew
upon rocks along the bed of a stream to the north-west of Mr. Spicer's
plantation, not less than two days' journey from the river--that was about
all. The inhabitants of the country, besides tigers, were savages.
Many a stream did Forstermann explore under the most uncomfortable
circumstances, wading thigh-deep, hour after hour, day after day. I am
sorry that I have not room even to summarise the long letter in which he
detailed those adventures.
To search the upland waters would have been comparatively easy; he might
have walked along the bank. But the Cypripedium grew in a valley; and
nowhere is tropical vegetation more dense than in those steaming clefts
which fall from the mountains of Bhutan. To cut a path was out of the
question; the work would have lasted for months, putting expense aside. It
was necessary to march up the bed of the stream.
Forstermann ascended each tributary with patient hopefulness, knowing that
success was certain if he could hold out. And it came at length to one so
deserving; but the manager had wandered to a much greater distance than he
thought. After wading all the forenoon up a torrent which had not yet lost
its highland chill, Forstermann reached a glade, encircled by rocks steep
as a wall--so steep that he had to fashion rakes of bamboo wherewith to
drag down the masses of orchid which clung to them. It was Cypripedium
Spicerianum!
Then arose the difficulty of getting his plunder away. After much
journeying to and fro, Forstermann engaged thirty-two Bhutias, half of
them to carry rice for the others along those mountain tracks, where 25
lbs. is a heavy load. So they travelled until, one day, after halting at a
village, the men refused to advance. The road ahead was occupied by a
tiger--I should mention that such alarms had been incessant; in no country
are tigers so common or so dangerous as in Bhutan. Forstermann drove them
along; at the next bit of jungle eight threw down their loads and
vanished. He found himself obliged to return, but eight more were missing
when he reached the village. There was no other road. Gradually the poor
fellow perceived that he must abandon his enterprise or clear the path. At
sunset, they told him, the brute would be watching--probably in a tree,
described with precision. Forstermann spent the time in writing farewell
letters--making his will, perhaps. Towards sunset, he took a rifle and a
gun and sallied forth.
The Bhutias assured him that there was no danger--from this enemy, at
least--until he reached the neighbourhood of the tree; but we may imagine
the terrors of that lonely walk, which must be repeated in darkness, if he
lived, or if the tiger did not show. But luck did not desert a man so
worthy of favour. He recognised the tree, an old dead stump overhanging
the path, clothed in ferns and creepers. Surveying it as steadily as the
tumult of his spirits would allow, in the fading light he traced a
yellow glimmer among the leaves. Through his field-glass, at twenty yards'
distance, he scrutinised this faint shadow. The tiger grew
impatient--softly it raised its head--so softly behind that screen of
ferns that a casual wayfarer would not have noticed it. But it was the
hint Forstermann needed. With a prayer he took aim, fired--threw down his
rifle and snatched the gun. But crash--stone-dead fell the tiger, and its
skin is a hearthrug on which I stood to hear this tale.
So on March 9, 1884, 40,000 plants of Cypripedium Spicerianum were offered
at Stevens' Auction Rooms.
[Illustration: CYPRIPEDIUM × DR RYAN.]
THE COOL HOUSE
contains about three thousand plants, mostly Odontoglossums. It is a
'lean-to,' of course. Not all the most successful growers use this form of
building. Baron Schröder's world-famous Odontoglots dwell in an oblong
structure which receives an equal quantity of light from every side. Even
the hardiest of epiphytal orchids are conscious of influences which we
cannot grasp, and those who understand them are unwilling to lay down
fixed rules. But experience shows that under ordinary conditions cool
species thrive in a 'lean-to' better than in a house of full span. It may
be because the back wall retains moisture and gives it out all day
steadily, whilst the air is saturated and dried by turns if fully exposed
to a hot sun. Or it may be because the full light of a span-roof is too
strong in most situations. A collector once told me that he often found
Odontoglossum Pescatorei so buried in Lycopodium as to be invisible until
the flower-spike appeared. Evidently such a plant does not need strong
light. Both causes operate, perhaps. At least the broad fact is so well
established that one might almost fancy Baron Schröder's Odontoglots would
do better, if that were possible, in a 'lean-to.'
There are three glass partitions, but from either door the full length of
the house is seen; a pleasing vista even when there are no flowers--all
smoothly green on one hand, rocky bank upon the other, studded with ferns
and creepers and an orchid here and there. Why these plants dislike to
stand in a long house open from end to end is a question none the less
puzzling because every gardener is ready to explain it. Loving fresh air
so well they cannot object to the brisker circulation. But their whims
must be respected, and after building a house ninety feet long we must
divide it into compartments.
I name a few among the rarities here. Of Odontoglots:--
_Wilckeanum._--Upon internal evidence Reichenbach pronounced this a
natural hybrid of Od. crispum × Od. luteo-purpureum. It was one among
innumerable instances of his sagacity. A few years ago M. Leroy, gardener
of Baron Edmond de Rothschild at Armainvilliers, crossed those two species
and the flower appeared in 1890. It was Od. Wilckeanum; but for the sake
of convenience this garden hybrid is called Leroyanum.
_Wilckeanum pallens._--A form still rarer of this rare variety;
yellow-ivory in colour, heavily splashed with brown; lip white, with a
brown bar across the centre.
_Wilckeanum albens._--Very large, white instead of yellowish; spotted and
blotched with brown.
_Ruckerianum._--Sepals and petals white in the centre, edged with violet,
yellow lip; all spotted with reddish-brown.
_Ruckerianum splendens._--Larger and more finely coloured in all respects
than the normal form. The violet margin is broader.
_Vuylstekeanum._--Those who saw the original plant of this noble species
at the Temple Show some years since have not forgotten the spectacle
assuredly. Petals and dorsal sepal pale yellow; lip and side sepals
brightest deepest orange.
_Mulus._--A natural hybrid of Od. luteo-purpureum with Od. gloriosum no
doubt. It bears a strong spike, branched, with many large flowers, bright
yellow blotched with pale brown. But the colouring varies greatly.
_Josephinae._--Named after Miss Josephine Measures. White, with a rosy
flush; sepals and petals spotted with chocolate at the base.
_Hunnewellianum._--Small, but very pretty. Sepals and petals pale yellow,
profusely dotted with brown; lip white, with a single brown spot.
_Elegans._--Assumed to be a natural hybrid of Od. cirrhosum and Od.
Hallii. The ground colour, faintly yellow, is almost concealed by
chocolate spots and patches; lip white, with a large blotch in the centre.
_Crispum virginale._--Very large and pure white, saving the yellow crest.
_Crispum Measuresiae._--Sepals and petals broad, white, spotted and
blotted with reddish brown. Lip unusually large, with a single great brown
blotch.
_Edithae._--Rosy white of sepal and petal, bordered with yellow and barred
with chestnut; lip pale yellow, much deeper at the base, with chestnut
spots in the centre.
_Crispum Our Empress._--A remarkable variety. Very large, rose colour,
heavily blotched with reddish purple; lip paler, covered with brown spots.
_Crispum Woodlandsense._--A superb example of the 'round-flowering' type.
Sepals and petals very broad, densely spotted with cinnamon-brown; lip
short, broad, similarly spotted.
_Crispum magnificum._--Sepals pale rose; petals and lip very faintly
flushed; the whole covered with brown spots.
_Bictoniense album._--The ordinary Bictoniense is pretty enough when the
lower blooms on the densely clothed spike can be persuaded to last until
those above them open. This uncommon sport is much more effective, with
sepals and petals of a lively brown, and broad lip of purest white.
_Facetum._--A good example of this catches the eye at once. Ground colour
pale yellow, almost hidden by great brown bars upon the sepals. The petals
are sharply freckled with brown, and up the middle runs a series of dark
red dots. Lip similarly freckled above, with a large splash of brown in
front; the lip handsomely fringed.
_Cristatellum._--Rather small and not impressive, but valuable for its
scarcity. The yellow ground colour shows itself only in a few narrow
streaks upon sepal and petal, and in the base of the lip. Elsewhere it is
hidden beneath layers of chestnut.
_Hallii magnificum._--A variety finer in all respects than the common
type. Sepals brown, save the yellow tips, and a few yellow lines; petals
yellow, with two large brown blots. The fringed lip also is yellow, with
two brown blots.
_Madrense._--Named after its place of birth, the Sierra Madre, in Mexico.
The plant is not uncommon, but it does not flower willingly, as a rule.
Sepals and petals are white, with a double purple blotch at the base; lip
small, bright orange.
_Polyxanthum magnificum._--The grandest variety of a species always
treasured. In colour deepest 'old gold,' with four or five great blots of
chestnut on the sepals, and as many spots at the base of the petals. The
lip has a shallow fringe and a broad splash in the centre.
_Wallisii._--Small. Sepals and petals dusky yellow, with a long straight
bar of chocolate down the middle. Lip white at the base, with small rosy
streaks; the disc rosy, edged with white.
_Hallii leucoglossum._--One of the largest Odontoglots. Buff or greenish
yellow, lip white, fringed; all heavily blotched and spotted with dark
brown.
_Mirandum._--Among so many charming species this must be reckoned curious
rather than pretty. Narrow and rather small, dull greenish yellow, with a
longitudinal bar and spots of red-brown.
_Wilckeanum Rothschildianum._---Perhaps the handsomest form of this rare
variety. Large, very broad of sepal and petal, pale yellow, blotched and
spotted with brown.
_Pescatorei Germinyanum._--Named after the Comte de Germiny, an
enthusiastic lover of orchids, as indeed of all other flowers. This ranks
among the prettiest forms of Pescatorei. Petals white, sepals flushed;
both marked with a spot of dark rose. Lip white, with similar dots.
_Sceptrum._--A superb variety of the common luteo-purpureum. Sepals deep
reddish brown, with yellow edges; petals yellow, blotched with
reddish-brown. Lip yellow, with a single blotch in front.
_Coronarium._--One of the Odontoglots which may be termed climbing _par
excellence_, for the pseudo-bulbs thrust out a long shaft before taking
form. It makes a very large plant, and probably the example here is the
largest existing--at least there are few as big. By successive
enlargements, the basket in which it stands has reached the dimensions of
three feet by two. Coronarium is reckoned among the species slow to
flower, but here we find no difficulty at all. Last season our plant made
nine growths and threw up eight spikes--a record! Noble spikes they are
too, bearing twenty to thirty blooms; petals of the brightest red-copper,
marbled with yellow at the base; petals somewhat browner, both edged with
gold. Lip small, narrow, light red, broadening towards the tip, which is
pale primrose. I should describe coronarium as the most majestic of
Odontoglots.
_Crispum Arthurianum._--A notable variety--very large, blush-white, with
one enormous chocolate blot and two or three small spots on sepal and
petal. Spotted lip.
_Crispo-Harryanum._--This is one of the very few hybrid Odontoglots. It
was commonly assumed until a few years ago that the genus would not bear
fruitful seed in Europe. This notion proves to be ill-founded happily, but
to obtain good seed is still very difficult, and to rear the young plants
more difficult still. Crispo-Harryanum was raised by M. Chas. Vuylsteke
near Ghent. The flowers show the influence of either parent in colour and
shape; the petals, which in Harryanum refuse to expand, are almost as flat
as in crispum.
_Humeanum._--We may confidently assume that this is a natural hybrid of
Od. Rossii and Od. cordatum. The former parent is so handsome that he has
begotten a very pretty progeny, though the mother is so plain--sepals
primrose, closely spotted with brown, petals and lip white, the former
similarly spotted at the base.
_Tripudians oculatum._--A rare and beautiful variety of an interesting
species. Very much larger than the common form; sepals of a lively brown,
with yellow tips, petals yellow, mottled with brown; lip white, with
violet spots above, a large blot below.
_Platycheilum._--One of the oddest and rarest Odontoglots. Sepals and
petals white, with a few brown dots at the base; lip large and widespread,
pink, spotted with crimson.
_Baphicanthum._--A valuable hybrid of Od. crispum and Od. odoratum or Od.
gloriosum, as internal evidence suggests. All primrose of ground colour,
but the sepals and petals are thickly dotted with red-brown.
_Schillerianum._--Exceedingly rare. Pale yellow; sepals and petals spotted
with chestnut. The lip has one large chestnut splash in the centre.
_Murrellianum._--Probably a natural hybrid of Od. Pescatorei and Od.
naevium. White tinged with violet, sepals and petals spotted with purple.
_Lindeni._--A superb species, but uncommonly reluctant to display its
charms, as a rule. In my own poor little house it has been growing bigger
for years and years. The pseudo-bulbs are five inches high now, and more
than two thick, but I look for flowers in vain. When they condescend to
appear they are all sulphur-yellow, crumpled, or, as the phrase goes,
undulated, in a fashion quite unlike any other Odontoglot.
_Grande magnificum._--The common form of grande ranks among the showiest
of flowers, much too big, indeed, and too strong in colour, to be approved
by a dainty taste. But this is even bigger, its yellow more brilliant, its
red-brown markings more distinctly red. There is record of sixteen flowers
on one spike, each seven inches across!--I scarcely expect to be believed,
but 'chapter and verse' are forthcoming on demand.
_Crispum aureum._--Almost as yellow as polyxanthum, 'the very golden'--a
most remarkable variety. The spots are few and small.
_Crispum Cooksoni_, on the other hand, is white, superbly spotted, or
rather blotched, with crimson brown. Perhaps the best of its class.
_Crispum Reginae._--Immense. White. The handsome spots, of purplish brown,
are more regularly disposed than usual.
_Crispum Chestertoni._--Peculiar for a yellow lip, while sepals and petals
are white; the former of these heavily splashed, and the latter sprinkled,
with red-brown. The lip has a brown blot on the disc.
_Rossii aspersum_ is a natural hybrid of Od. Rossii and Od. maculatum, as
is supposed. Sepals and petals faintly yellow, spotted with brown at the
base; lip creamy white.
_Pescatorei album._--Large. All pure white.
_Pescatorei superbum._--A round flower, of great 'substance'--which
means, in effect, that it will last an unusual time. Notable for the deep
tone of its purplish markings.
_Pescatorei grandiflorum._--Immense. The lip has a yellow dash at base.
_Pescatorei splendens._--Sepals and petals white; lip handsomely spotted
with purple.
_Pescatorei violaceum._--The whole flower is tinted with violet.
_Crispum purpureum_ shows a similar peculiarity, but the tint is purple.
_Crispum Dayanum._--The sepals have a large irregular patch of darkest
mauve in the centre, the petals a spot or two of the same colour and a
streak at the base. The lip is white.
Old-fashioned people have not yet learned to call Odontoglossum
vexillarium a Miltonia. To avoid confusion I will give it no generic name
at all. It should be observed, however, that in our collection these
plants are 'grown cool' all the year round. Among the most important
are:--
_Vexillaria Cobbiana._--Pale rose with white lip.
_Vexillaria Measuresiana._--All white save the golden 'beard.' Perhaps the
handsomest of its rare class.
_Vexillaria rubella._--Deep rose. Valuable for its habit of flowering in
autumn.
[Illustration: ODONTOGLOSSUM, ROSSII MAJUS _WOODLANDS VARIETY._]
STORY OF ODONTOGLOSSUM HARRYANUM
Men supremely great in science have a quality beyond reason, such as we
term instinct, enabling them to leap over the slow processes of
demonstration, and announce a law or a result unsuspected, which they
cannot yet prove. The great Collector Benedict Roezl had this gift.
Returning from the memorable expedition in which he discovered the
Miltonia commonly called Odontoglossum vexillarium, he assured Mr. Sander
that in those parts would be found a true Odontoglossum of unusual
colouring. When asked the grounds for his opinion he could only say he
'smelt it.' Mr. Sander was not unused to this expression, and he knew by
experience that Roezl's scientific nose might be trusted. It was something
in the air, in the 'lie' of the country, in the type of vegetation, which
guided him, no doubt. Other collectors born and bred have a like sense.
Roezl showed his supremacy by the confident prediction that this new
species would be darker than any known, and striking in the combination of
its tints.
This was in 1875. Ten years later Professor Reichenbach wrote to Mr.
Sander of an astounding Odontoglossum he had seen--it may be necessary to
tell the unlearned that Professor Reichenbach was the very genius of
orchidology. Nothing in the least resembling it had been even rumoured
hitherto. And then Reichenbach described Odontoglossum Harryanum. The
raptures of that enthusiast were wont to divert admiring friends,
expressed with quaint vehemence, but always suggesting that he mocked
himself the while. Never had he such a theme as this. Speaking with due
thought and sufficient knowledge, I declare that Odontoglossum Harryanum
is the most finished result of Nature's efforts to produce a flower which
should startle and impress by its colours alone, without eccentricity of
shape or giant size, or peculiarities of structure. Remembering that not
all the world has seen this flower, I should give just a hint of the means
employed. Fancy, then, eight or ten great blooms, dark chestnut in tone,
barred with yellow, striped with mauve; the lip white, broadly edged with
a network of bluish purple and intersected by a deep stain of that tint,
beyond which is spread a sheet of snow; touch with gold here and there,
and you have the 'scheme of colour.' Those who knew the great savant can
imagine how he raved after giving, with luminous precision, his scientific
report of the new orchid.
Reichenbach persuaded himself, by study of the flower, that it must be a
native of Mexico. He was wrong for once, but people were so used to regard
him as infallible that Mr. Sander did not think of doubting the assertion.
Presently, however, it became known that Messrs. Veitch had bought the
plants, a dozen or so, from Messrs. Horsman. And then Mr. Sander learned
by accident that the latter firm received a small case of orchids from
Barranquilla, twelve months before. While pondering this news, Roezl's
unforgotten prophecy flashed into his mind. Barranquilla, in the United
States of Columbia, is the port of that district where Odontoglossum
vexillarium is found! He had a collector not far away. Within an hour this
gentleman, Mr. Kerbach, received a telegram short and imperative: 'Go
Amalfi.' Not waiting an explanation Kerbach replied 'Gone!'--reached
Amalfi in due course, and found another telegram containing a hint that
sufficed, 'New Odontoglossum.'
Kerbach began to inquire the same day. It was hardly credible that an
orchid of importance could have been overlooked in the neighbourhood of
Amalfi, where collectors--French, Belgian, and English--had been busy for
years. A hunt there would be very unpromising. Kerbach wandered about,
asking questions. Thus at Medellin he made acquaintance with a Bank clerk.
It may be noted, by the way, that the inhabitants of that busy and
thriving town, the bulk of them, are descendants of Maranos--that is, Jews
converted by the processes of the Inquisition. Doubtless there are records
which explain why and how many thousands of those people assembled in a
remote district of New Granada, but they themselves appear to have lost
the tradition; they have lost their ancestral faith also, for there are no
more devout Catholics. The religious instincts of the race assert
themselves, however, for New Granadans in general are not more fervent
than other creoles of South America, while the town of Medellin is an
oasis of piety.
The Bank clerk was questioned as usual, though not a likely person to take
note of plants. 'Why,' said he, 'there was a customer of ours at the Bank
yesterday, swearing like a wild Indian at orchids and everybody connected
with them. I should advise you to keep out of his way.'
'What have the orchids done to him?' asked Kerbach.
'I wasn't listening, but I'll inquire.' And presently he brought the
explanation. A young French collector had been in those parts some years
before. He stayed a while at the planter's house, and there discovered an
orchid which stirred him to enthusiasm. After gathering a quantity he made
arrangements with his host for a shipment to follow next season, promising
a sum which astonished the native. But this young man was drowned in the
Couca. After a while Don Filipe resolved to despatch a few of the weeds
on his own account to Europe, and he consigned them to a friend at
Barranquilla. But the friend never returned him a farthing. He had handed
the case to some one else for shipment, and this some one, he said, could
not get his money from England. It is pleasant to hear, however, that Don
Filipe had implicit trust in British honesty. He proclaimed his friend a
swindler, and doubtless he was right.
All the cash that this good man was out of pocket could not well have
exceeded ten dollars, and his time did not count. Perhaps he would have
been less furious had the loss been greater. Anyhow he nursed his wrath
with Indian stubbornness--for Don Filipe was an Indian, though
distinguishable from a white only in character, as are myriads at this
day.
Kerbach did not doubt that he had found his Odontoglossum, and gaily
started for the hacienda. Some little diplomacy might be needed, and
rather more cash than usual; but of course a sane man would come to terms
at last. Don Filipe was absent when he arrived--a fortunate chance,
perhaps. Meantime Kerbach entertained the ladies, played with the
children, and made himself agreeable. The haciendero found him seated at
the piano, and applauded with the rest.
But his face changed when they got to business. Kerbach opened with
flattering remarks upon the wealth of the country and its prospects. Don
Filipe purred with satisfaction. Gradually he worked round to orchids. Don
Filipe ceased to purr, and he hastily begged leave to visit the cacao
plantation. As they rode through the sheltering woods Kerbach looked about
him sharply. It was too late for flowers, but the growth of Odontoglossum
Harryanum is very distinct. He espied one plant and recognised it as a new
species.
The trouble must be faced, and after dinner Kerbach explained his object,
as gently as he could. The planter flamed out at once, dropped his
Castilian manners, and vowed he would shoot any man found gathering
orchids on his estate. Kerbach withdrew. Next day he visited two other
hacienderos of the district. But Don Filipe had preceded him. Less rudely
but with equal firmness the landowners forbade him to collect on their
property.
A brief explanation is needed. In those parts of South America, where the
value of orchids is known to every child, a regular system has been
introduced long since. As a rule almost invariable, the woods belong to
some one, however far from a settlement. With this personage the collector
must negotiate a lease, as it is called, a formal document, stamped and
registered, which gives him authority to cut down trees--for the peons
will not climb. At the beginning, doubtless, they shrewdly perceived that
to fell a stout trunk would pay them infinitely better--since they receive
a daily wage--than to strip it, besides the annoyance from insects and the
risk from snakes which they elude. At the present time this usage has
become fixed.[2]
Without the assistance of peons, Kerbach could not possibly get plants
sufficient to ship. To cut down trees without authority would be a penal
offence, certainly detected. He explored the country at a distance and
found nothing. It was necessary to come to terms with Don Filipe at any
cost or abandon the enterprise. Meantime letters reached Amalfi describing
the new Odontoglossum, with a picture showing the foliage. It was that he
had found. The treasure hung within reach, and a pig-headed Indian forbade
him to grasp it.
In such a difficulty one applies to the Cura. Kerbach paid this gentleman
a visit. A tall, stout, good-natured ecclesiastic was he, willing to help
a stranger, perhaps, even though unprovided with the dollars which Kerbach
offered 'for the poor,' if his mediation proved successful. The Cura made
the attempt and failed signally. It was useless to try again. The good man
begged ten dollars, or five, or one, upon the ground that he had done his
best. But Kerbach in despair was not inclined for charity. The Cura
sighed, hesitated, tossed off a glass of aguardiente and proposed another
way.
'This is a wicked country, sir,' he said. 'Ah! very wicked. And the
wickedest people in it have a proverb which I shudder to repeat. But your
case is hard. Well, sir, they say (heaven forgive them and me!), "If the
saints won't hear you, take your prayer to the devil." Horrible, isn't
it?'
'Horrible!' said Kerbach. 'But I don't know where to find the devil.'
'Yours is a pious country I have heard, though not Christian. In this
wicked land even children could tell you where to seek him. Now, you will
give me a trifle for my poor?' And he held out his hand.
'But I'm not acquainted with any children. Your reverence must really be
more explicit.'
'Bother!' exclaimed his reverence, or some Spanish equivalent. 'Well, you
will pay me the fifty dollars promised?'
'Twenty! When Don Filipe signs the lease.'
'And all incidental expenses? Then my sacristan will call on you
to-morrow. Never talk to me again of your impious projects, sir.'
The sacristan was very business-like. He demanded a dollar to begin with
for the Indian who would work the charm, and another dollar for himself
to pay for the masses which would expiate his sin. Kerbach asked details,
which were given quite frankly. The wizard was a respectable
person--attended church, and so forth. The sacristan had talked matters
over with him and neither doubted of success. Kerbach must write a letter
to Don Filipe's wife begging her to intercede. The wizard having charmed
that document before presenting it, she would be compelled to grant its
request. If the planter should still refuse, a curse would be launched
against him. And he could not dare resist that.
The man was so serious, he explained himself in such a matter-of-fact
tone, that Kerbach, laughing, risked two dollars on the chance. With the
letter in his pocket the sacristan departed. Two days later he returned.
Don Filipe was willing to negotiate the lease. Kerbach was so delighted
that he never thought of asking whether the lady's gentle influence or the
terrors of the curse had persuaded him. Thus Odontoglossum Harryanum was
found, to the eternal glory of Roezl.
MASDEVALLIAS
Among Masdevallias we have scarce varieties of Harryana, as _Bull's
Blood_, Mr. Bull's punning name for the darkest of all crimsons, and
_Denisoniana_, which keen eyes distinguish from it by a shade of magenta;
_splendens_, pure magenta; _versicolor_, which has patches of deep crimson
on a magenta ground, and a bright yellow 'eye'; _Armeniaca_, large,
apricot in colour, also with a yellow 'eye'; _Sander's Scarlet_, which
speaks for itself.
_Bonplandii._--Greenish yellow, with a few purple marks. Tails short and
stiff.
_Caudata._--Upper sepal light yellow dotted with red; lower purplish rose,
marbled with white. A dwarf species, but the yellow tails are two to three
inches long.
_Abbreviata._--Small, white speckled with purple.
_Ignea splendens._--Much larger than the normal form. Fiery red.
_Amabilis._--Small, carmine, conspicuous by reason of its 'tail,' an inch
and a half long.
_Chelsoni._--A hybrid of the last-named with Veitchii, orange-yellow, with
mauve spots and two 'tails.'
_Veitchii grandiflora_, a variety even larger than the common type, seven
inches across sometimes; orange-red, suffused with purple.
_Polysticta._--One of the lovely little 'curiosities' which abound in
this genus--palest lilac freckled with purple, and tailed.
_Coccinea._--Rosy pink above, glowing scarlet below.
_Macrura._--One of the few Masdevallias which do not please my eye, but
very rare. Immense, as much as twelve inches long, counting the yellow
tails, rough of surface, vaguely brown in colour, with darker spots.
_Peristeria._--Greenish yellow, freely speckled with purple;
yellow-tailed.
_Melanopus._--Small, white, dotted with purple and yellow-tailed.
_Wallisii stupenda._---Pale lemon colour splashed with chocolate. There is
a curious white excrescence on each side the column, dotted with scarlet.
ONCIDIUMS
Of Oncidiums in this house I note:--
_Lamelligerum._--A very grand and noble flower, too rarely seen. It
belongs to the stately section of which Oncidium macranthum is the common
type. The great dorsal sepal swells out roundly from a stalk half an inch
long; the two lower resemble in shape those long-bladed paddles, with
scalloped edge, which are used by chiefs in the South Seas; in colour rich
brown, with a clear golden margin. The yellow petals also have a stalk,
but to give a notion of the large, beautiful, and complex development
which they carry at the ends is a hopeless endeavour. I have seen ladies'
work-baskets which faintly resemble it when wide open; made of the softest
straw, without end-pieces, only to be closed by tying a ribbon in the
centre. But really the case is desperate. I pass on.
_Tetracopis._--Another of the same group, even more rare, but not so
striking. Large, as they all are. Sepals a lively brown, gold edged;
petals bright yellow splashed with brown; lip yellow.
_Undulatum._--A third member of this handsome family. Sepals brown, petals
white, marbled with yellow and mauve at the base, spotted with purple
above, and streaked with yellow. Lip very small, as in all the other
cases, but conspicuous by reason of its bright purple tint.
_Ornithorhynchum album._--This is one of our oldest and commonest
species, discovered by Bonpland, who accompanied Humboldt to Mexico;
brought to Europe no long time afterwards. But the pure white variety
turned up to astonish the world very few years ago, and the names of those
happy mortals who possess a sample would make only a brief if
distinguished list.
_Loxense_ seems to have been not uncommon in our fathers' time, but no
plants have arrived from Peru--Loxa is the district--for many years. It
makes a long spike with branches, bearing a great number of large flowers;
sepals greenish ochre, crossed with blurs of chocolate; petals deep brown,
edged and tipped with yellow. Lip large and flowing, as it were,
orange-yellow, speckled with red in the throat.
_Weltoni._---Classed of late among Miltonias. A singular and fascinating
species, difficult to grow and still more difficult to flower. The sepals
and petals are very narrow, with edges like a saw, greenish brown,
widening out suddenly at the tip, which is yellow. The lip is
extraordinary in all respects. It shows a fine broad disc of dusky purple,
with a darker bar across the middle; and below this, sharply divided as if
by a stroke of the brush, two smaller discs pure white. Upon the whole to
be wondered at rather than admired, but more interesting on that account.
[Illustration: ODONTOGLOSSUM × HARRYANO-CRISPUM.]
STORY OF ONCIDIUM SPLENDIDUM
We all know that to make a thing conspicuous above measure is the most
effective way of baffling those who seek it. Wendell Holmes has expounded
the natural law of this phenomenon, and Edgar Poe exemplified it in a
famous story. I am about to give an instance from the life, as striking as
his fiction.
Oncidium splendidum is one of the stateliest orchids we have, and one of
the showiest. Its leaves are very large, fleshy and rigid, and the tall
flower spike bears a number of pale yellow blooms striped with brown, each
three inches across. There is no exaggeration in saving that they would
catch the most careless eye as far off as one could see them.
At an uncertain date in the fifties a merchant captain--whose name and
that of his ship have never been recovered--brought half a dozen specimens
to St. Lazare and gave them to his owner, M. Herman. This gentleman sold
the lot to MM. Thibaud and Ketteler, orchid-dealers of Sceaux. They were
tempted to divide plants so striking and so new; thus a number of small
and weakly pieces were distributed about Europe at a prodigious price. We
have the record of the sale of one at Stevens' Auction Rooms in 1870; it
could show but a single leaf, yet somebody paid thirty guineas for the
morsel. So ruthlessly were the plants cut up. Even orchids, tenacious of
life as they are, will not stand this treatment. In very few years more
Oncidium splendidum had vanished.
No one knew where it came from--with a strange carelessness MM. Thibaud
and Ketteler had not inquired. M. Herman was dead, and he left no record
of the circumstances. The captain could not be traced. Had the name of his
ship been preserved, it might have furnished a hint, since the port of
sailing would be registered in the Custom House. More than one
enterprising dealer made inquiries, but it was too late to recover the
trail. Oncidium splendidum took its place for a while among the lost
orchids.
But Mr. Sander of St. Albans would not admit defeat. When, after great
pains, he had satisfied himself that nothing could be discovered at St.
Lazare or at Sceaux, he examined the internal evidence. In the first
place, an Oncidium must needs be American, since the genus is not found in
the Old World. This species also must dwell in a hot climate; leaves so
rigid and fleshy are designed to bear a scorching sun. But the
possibilities seemed almost boundless, even thus limited. Patiently and
thoughtfully Mr. Sander worked out a process of exhaustion. Mexico might
be neglected, for a time at least; those hunting-grounds had been so often
explored that some one must surely have come across a flower so
conspicuous. So it was with New Grenada. Brazilian Cattleyas have thick,
hard leaves, though not to compare with this Oncidium; but they form a
single genus which shows the peculiarity among hundreds which do not.
Brazil, therefore, might be excluded for the present. The astonishing
wealth of Peru in varieties of orchid was not suspected then. After such
careful thought as a man of business allows himself when tempted by a
speculation which may cost thousands of pounds, Mr. Sander determined
that, upon the whole, Central America was the most likely spot; and again,
after more balancing of the chances, that Costa Rica was the most likely
part of Central America.
After coming to a decision he acted promptly. In 1878 Mr. Oversluys, one
of our trustiest and most experienced collectors, was despatched to Costa
Rica. More than three years he travelled up and down, and treasures new or
old he sent in abundance--Epidendron ciliare, Cattleya Bowringiana,
Oncidium cheirophorum, are names that occur at the moment. But as for
Oncidium splendidum he had not so much as heard of it. Not a peon could be
found in the woods to recognise the sketch which Mr. Sander had given him.
Oversluys had never seen the plant himself, I think.
He was driven at length to conclude that if the thing did really exist in
those parts--poor Oversluys applied a variety of epithets to 'the thing'
now, none expressive of tenderness--it must be on the Atlantic slope or
the steaming lowlands beyond. He had felt himself justified in neglecting
those districts hitherto because there is no port where a large vessel can
lie, and absolutely no trade, save a trifling export of bananas. What
could tempt a French captain to the Atlantic shore of Costa Rica? And the
expedition was as uninviting as well could be. There were no towns nor
even villages--but it must be borne in mind that I speak of twenty years
ago. At that time all the white and coloured population was settled on the
tableland, excepting a few individuals or families who yearly wandered
downwards to squat along the slope. Upon the other hand there were Indian
tribes--Talamancas to the southward, who admitted some vague allegiance to
the Republic on condition that white men did not enter their territory;
and Guatusos or Pranzos to the northward, utter savages. It was their
country, however, to which the wandering folks mentioned betook
themselves, and thither Oversluys must go; for the track they had cut
through the forest was the only one connecting the tableland with the
Atlantic coast.
I have travelled that 'road' myself in the days when peril and discomfort
were welcome for the promise of adventure; but had we known what lay
before us when bidding a joyous adieu to the capital, we should have
meekly returned to the Pacific harbour by coach. Oversluys was a man of
business, and to men of business adventure commonly means embarrassment
and loss of time, if no worse. Varied experiences, all unpleasant, told
him that to seek orchids in a country like that must be a thankless
enterprise, attended by annoyance, privation, and even danger. But he had
undertaken the work. It must be done.
As cheerfully then as such untoward circumstances permitted, Oversluys set
forth from San José, and in due time reached the Disengagno. This is a
blockhouse raised by some charitable person on the edge of the tableland;
a very few yards beyond, the path dips suddenly on its course to the
Serebpiqui river, 6000 feet below. The spot is bitterly cold at night, as
I can testify, or seems so, and for this reason the hut was built, as a
shelter for travellers. But they, too lazy to seek wood in the forest at
arm's length, promptly demolished the walls and burned them. Only the roof
remained in a few months, with the posts that upheld it.
A group of ill-looking peons occupied this shed when Oversluys arrived.
They began to pick a quarrel forthwith; in short, he heartily wished
himself elsewhere. It was not yet dusk. Drawing the guide apart Oversluys
questioned him, and learned that there was one single habitation within
reach. The report of it was not promising, but he did not hesitate. As the
little party filed off, one of the peons shouted, 'A good night, _macho_!
We'll wait for you at La Vergen!'--the first halting-place on the descent.
A pleasant beginning!
The shelter they sought lay some miles back. There is plenty of game on
these unpeopled uplands, if a man knows how to find it, and a hunter had
built himself this cabin in the woods. They reached it as darkness was
setting in--a hut as rough as could be, standing on the edge of a small
savannah. At the same moment the owner returned, with a deer tied on the
back of a small but very pretty ox. He might well be surprised, but
hospitality is a thing of course in those parts. Kindness to animals is
not, however--much the contrary--and Oversluys observed with pleasure how
carefully the little ox was treated. Children came running from the hut,
and, after staring in dumb amaze for a while at the strangers, took the
animal and actually groomed it in a rough way.
After supper--of venison steaks--Oversluys alluded to this extraordinary
proceeding. The guide said, 'Our friend Pablo may well take care of his
ox. There's not such another for hunting on the countryside.' And Pablo
grunted acquiescence.
'For hunting?' asked Oversluys.
'Yes. You should see him when he catches sight of deer. Tell the
gentleman, Pablo.'
Upon this theme the hunter was talkative, and he reported such instances
of sagacity that Oversluys--remembering those ruffians who awaited him at
La Vergen--asked whether there was any chance to see the ox at work? Pablo
meant to have another stalk at dawn, with the hope of carrying two deer to
market, and willingly he agreed to take his guest. So they started before
daylight.
It was no long journey to the hunting-ground. These high lands are mostly
savannah, with belts of dense forest between. Oversluys had heard deer
belling incessantly all night. After carefully studying the wind Pablo
chose the direction of the hunt. He had cut tracks to each point of the
compass, and he took that which would bring him to the edge of the first
clearing with the wind in his face.
It was just light enough when they arrived to see half a dozen dark forms
above the misty grass. Forthwith Pablo crept out from the trees, walking
backwards, his left arm round the ox's neck, and his stooped body behind
its shoulder. Thus he could see nothing. It was unnecessary. The ox
marched on, its broadside towards the deer, very softly, but always
zigzagging closer. As the light strengthened, Oversluys watched with
growing pleasure. Very soon the deer noticed this intrusion and ceased
feeding; then the ox dropped its head and grazed. Again and again this
occurred. So long as one deer remained upon the watch it kept its head
down, but when the last recovered confidence, instantly it advanced.
Pablo's old gun could not be trusted beyond fifty yards or so. The deer
became more restless. They drew together--Oversluys saw they would bound
off in a moment. Just then the ox wheeled actively--they flew. But one
rolled over, shot through the chest.
Oversluys was so pleasantly excited that he ran to pat the clever
creature. Then he assisted Pablo to load up the game. It was broad
daylight now. In lifting the body he noticed some large yellow flowers
which it had crushed in falling. They were pretty and curious in shape. He
glanced at the leaves--they were large, polished, and very stiff. A wild
fancy struck him. He compared the drawing. There was no doubt! Scores of
Oncidium splendidum starred the tall grass all around!
I do not try to paint his raptures. A few weeks later many thousand plants
were on their way to Europe. But the point of the story is that Mr.
Oversluys had seen and even admired this flower many a time on the upland
savannahs in riding past. He was looking for orchids, however, and who
could have expected to find an Oncidium buried among herbage in the open
ground?
The ox demands a word. Such trained animals are not uncommon in Central
America. The process of education is very cruel. By constant tapping,
their horns are loosened when young, so that the tortured beast obeys the
slightest pressure. Its movements in walking are thus directed, and when
the horns grow firm again it continues to recognise a touch. But the
degrees of intelligence in brutes are strikingly displayed here. Some
forget the lesson in a twelvemonth. Most are uncertain. A very few, like
Pablo's, understand so well what is required of them that direction is
needless. In that case the hunter can walk backwards, keeping his body
quite concealed. He is almost sure to kill, unless the fault be his own.
LAELIA JONGHEANA
The back wall carries a broad sloping ledge of tufa, where little chips of
Odontoglossum and the rest are planted out to grow until they become large
enough to be potted--no long time, for they gather strength fast in niches
of the porous stone. Along the top, however, are ranged flowering plants
of Odontoglossum grande which make a blaze in their season--three to six
blooms upon a spike, the smallest of them four inches across. Overhead is
a long row of Laelia Jongheana--some three hundred of them here and
elsewhere. It is a species with a history, and I venture to transcribe the
account which I published in the _Pall Mall Gazette_, July 18, 1899.
'A SENSATION FOR THE ELECT.--The general public will hear without emotion
that Laelia Jongheana has been rediscovered. The name is vaguely
suggestive of orchids--things delightful in a show, or indeed elsewhere,
when in bloom, but not exhilarating to read about. Therefore I call the
news a sensation for the elect. At the present moment, I believe, only one
plant of L. Jongheana is established in this country, among Baron
Schröder's wonders. Though its history is lost this must be a lonely
survivor of those which reached Europe in 1855--a generation and a half
ago. It is not to be alleged that no civilised mortal has beheld the
precious weed in its native forests since that date; but no one has
mentioned the spectacle, and assuredly no one has troubled to gather
plants. Registered long since among the "Lost Orchids," which should bring
a little fortune to the discoverer, native botanists and dealers in all
parts of South America have been looking out. And the collectors! For
forty years past not one of the multitude has left the shores of Europe or
the United States, bound for the Cattleya realm, without special
instructions to watch and pray for L. Jongheana. More and more pressing
grew the exhortations as years went by and prices mounted higher, until of
late they subsided in despair. Yet the flower is almost conspicuous enough
to be a landmark, and it does not hide in the tree-tops either, like so
many.
'Every one who takes interest in orchids will be prepared already to hear
that Messrs. Sander are the men of fate. How many of such spells have they
broken! Without book I recall Oncidium splendidum, of which not a plant
remained in Europe, nor a hint of the country where it grew; the "scarlet
Phalaenopsis" of native legend, never beheld of white man, which, in fact,
proved to be brick-red; Cattleya labiata, the Lost Orchid _par
excellence_, vainly sought from 1818 to 1889. The recovery of Dendrobium
Schröderium was chronicled by every daily paper in London, or almost, with
a leader, when a skull was shown in Protheroe's Rooms with a specimen
clinging to it, and a select group of idols accompanying the shipment.
Less important, but not less interesting, was the reappearance of
Cypripedium Marstersianum at a later date. Verily, we orchidists owe a
debt to the St. Albans firm.
'In these cases success was merited by hard thought, patient inquiry, and
long effort. Working out the problem in his study, Mr. Sander fixed upon a
certain country where the prize would be found, and sent his collector to
the spot. Oversluys searched for Oncidium splendidum during three years,
until he wrote home that it might be in ---- or ----, but it certainly
was not in Costa Rica; yet he found it at last. In this present case,
however, the discovery is due to pure luck; but one may say that a slice
of luck also was well deserved after those laborious triumphs. One of the
St. Albans collectors, M. Forget, was roaming about Brazil lately. The
Government invited him to join a scientific mission setting out to study
the products and resources of Minas Gaeras. It is comparatively little
known. M. Forget was unable to accept the invitation, but he heard enough
about this secluded province to rouse his interest, especially when the
savants reported that no collector had been there. Accordingly, he made an
expedition as soon as possible, and at the very outset discovered an
orchid--not in flower--resembling Laelia pumila in every detail but size.
It was at least twice as big as that small, familiar species, but the
points of similarity were so striking that M. Forget pronounced it a grand
local form of L. pumila. And when the consignment reached St. Albans, even
the wary and thoughtful authorities there endorsed his view! Not without
hesitation. I believe that the name of L. Jongheana was whispered. But
despair had grown to the pitch that no one ventured to speak out. Yet by
drawings and descriptions, anxiously studied for years, all knew perfectly
well that in growth the lost species must be like L. pumila, enlarged. It
is, indeed, strong evidence of the absorbing interest of the search that
when at length it ended, neither M. Forget nor his employers dared to
believe their own eyes.
'So in November last year some hundreds or thousands of a remarkable
orchid were offered at Protheroe's under the title "L. pumila (?)." Nearly
all the leading amateurs and growers bought, I think, but at a very cheap
rate. Half a crown apiece would be a liberal average for plants over which
millionaires would have battled had they known. But, after all, the luck
of the purchasers was not unqualified. Many who read this will feel a
dreary satisfaction in learning that if their plants have perished or
dwindled, plenty of others are in like case. Further experience shows that
they were gathered at the wrong time; of course they reached Europe at the
wrong time. And nearly every one put them into heat, which was a final
error. L. Jongheana is quite a cool species. Through these accumulated
misfortunes only two out of the multitude have flowered up to this, so far
as I can hear. The dullest of mortals can feel something of the delicious
anxiety of those gentlemen who watched the great bloom swelling from day
to day when it began to show its tints, and they proved to be quite unlike
those of L. pumila. At length it opened, and L. Jongheana was recovered.
'What sort of a thing is it, after all? For an unlearned description, I
should say that the flowers--two, three, or even five in number--are from
four to five inches across--sepals, petals, and curl of lip bright
amethyst, yellow throat, white centre; the crisped and frilled margin all
round suffused with purple. It was discovered in 1855 by Libon, who died
soon after, carrying his secret with him. He was sent out by M. de Jonghe,
of Brussels--hence the name.'
Up to the present time only one of the plants here has flowered--and it
opened pure white, saving a yellow stain on the lip. This was not
altogether a surprise, for a close examination of the faded blooms
convinced M. Forget that some of them must have been white, whatever the
species might be. And he marked them accordingly. That a collector of such
experience should prove to be right was not astonishing, as I say, but
remarkably pleasant.
At the end of the house is a pretty verdant nook where Cypripedium insigne
is planted out upon banks of tufa among Adiantums and overshadowing
palms.
STORY OF BULBOPHYLLUM BARBIGERUM
This species is so rare in Europe that I must give a word of description.
The genus contains the largest and perhaps the smallest of orchids--B.
Beccarii, whose stem is six inches in diameter, carrying leaves two feet
long, and B. pygmaeum of New Zealand. They are all fly-catchers, I think,
equipped with apparatus to trap their prey, as droll commonly in the
working as ingenious in the design. Barbigerum has pseudo-bulbs less than
an inch high, and its flowers are proportionate. But charm and size are no
way akin. Fascination dwells in the lip, which, hanging upon the
slenderest possible connection, lengthens out to the semblance of a brush.
Thus exquisitely poised it rocks without ceasing, and its long, silky,
purple-brown hairs wave softly but steadily all day long, as if on the
back of a moving insect. Pretty though it be, all declare it uncanny.
The species was introduced from Sierra Leone by Messrs. Loddiges, so long
ago as 1835. I have not come upon any reference to a public sensation.
Assuredly, however, the orchidists of the day were struck, and it is
probable that Messrs. Loddiges sold the wonder at a high price if in
bloom. Some people in Sierra Leone forwarded consignments. But an orchid
so small and delicate needs careful handling. None of them reached Europe
alive, I dare say.
It appears, however, that Bulbophyllum barbigerum is common throughout
those regions. The example at Kew, which diverts so many good folks year
by year, came from Lagos, near a thousand miles east and south of Sierra
Leone. And the story I have to tell places it at Whydah, between the two.
A young man named Boville went thither as clerk in the English factory,
soon after 1835. We have not to ask what was his line of commerce. I have
no information, but it must be feared, though perhaps we do him wrong,
that one branch of it at least was the slave trade. Boville had heard of
Messrs. Loddiges' success. Residents at Whydah do not commonly explore the
bush, but he was young and enterprising. On his first stroll he discovered
the Bulbophyllum, and to his innocence it seemed the promise of a fortune.
Real good things must be kept quiet. The treasure was plentiful enough to
cause 'a glut' forthwith if many speculators engaged. Luckily he had a
Kroo boy in attendance, not a native. To him Boville assumed an air of
mystery, said he was going to make fetich, and 'something happen' to any
one who spoke of his proceedings--'make fetich' and 'something happen' are
among the first local expressions which a man learns in West Africa. The
Kroo boy grinned, because that is his way of acknowledging any
communication whatsoever, and snapped his fingers in sign of willing
obedience. So Boville gathered a dozen plants, and hoped to have a stock
before 'the ship' arrived. There were no steamers then, and at Whydah, a
very unimportant station for lawful trade, English vessels only called
once in three months. Slavers did not ship orchids.
It was Boville's employment henceforth to collect the Bulbophyllum
whenever he had a few hours to spare. He hung his spoils on the lattice
work which surrounds a bedroom in those parts, between roof and wall,
designed for ventilation--hiding them with clothes and things. It is
proper to add that the 'English Fort' was already deserted, and the
'Factory' a mere name. The agent, his superior officer, was not at all
likely to visit a clerk's quarters. This good man belonged to a class very
frequent then upon 'the coast.' He had not returned to England, nor wished
to do so, since coming out. At a glance he recognised that this was his
real native land, and without difficulty he made himself a
fellow-countryman of the negroes, living like a caboceer, amidst an
undeterminate number of wives, slaves, and children. Very shocking; but it
may be pointed out that such men as this established our colonies or seats
of trade in Africa. They had virtues, perhaps, but their vices were more
useful. The moral system of the present day would not have answered then.
An agent secured his position by marrying a daughter of every chief who
might be troublesome. He had no Maxim guns.
Mr. Blank knew every feeling and superstition of the negroes,--that is the
point of my reference to his character. And one evening he entered the
room just as Boville was hanging up his latest acquisitions, some of which
were in flower. Whatever Mr. Blank's business, it fled from his mind on
beholding the orchids.
'Good God!' he cried. 'What--what--you are no better than a dead man! I
won't protect you--I can't! Good God! What possessed you?'
'I don't understand,' said Boville.
'No, you don't understand! They send me out the most infernal idiots'--and
then Mr. Blank fell to swearing.
Boville saw the case was grave somehow. 'Are they poisonous?' he asked.
'Poisonous be--etc. etc. That's the Endua--the holiest of plants! You'll
wish they were poisonous before long! What a lot! You didn't get 'em all
to-day?'
'I can destroy them. Only Georgius Rex the Krooman has been into the bush
with me.'
'You fool! D'you think you can hide this from the fetich? Put--put 'em in
a sack, and tumble 'em into the river after dark! Oh Lord, here's an awful
business!'
Moving about the room restlessly as he talked, whilst Boville thrust the
orchids into a bag, the agent opened a door which gave upon a platform
called the verandah--in fact, the roof of the store. It overlooked the
street. In an instant he ran back.
'It's all up' he cried. 'Oh Lord! Here's the Vokhimen!'
Boville had heard this name, which belongs to an official of the Vo-dun,
the fetich priesthood, whose duty it is to summon offenders. He went to
see. The street was in an uproar. Two men clothed in black and white, with
faces chalked, were beating Vo-drums furiously--but such din is too usual
for notice. They stood at the door of a house--habitations in Whydah are
not properly described as huts. All the neighbours surged round
vociferous. Presently emerged a grotesque figure, rather clothed than
adorned with strings of human teeth and bones, and little wooden idols
painted red. His black and white cap had lappets with red snakes sewn
thereon; the breast of his tunic bore a large red cross, the sacred symbol
of Dahomey. He came forth with a leap, and danced along with ridiculous
gestures to the next house, flourishing the iron bar which marks his
office. The bones and images rattled like castanets. The drummers
followed. Through the next doorway the Vokhimen sprang, and disappeared.
'He isn't after me, thank God!' cried Boville.
'He is, you fool! It's their way to hunt about like that when they well
know where to find the victim. No, it's too late to hide the cursed things
now. God help you, Boville! I can do nothing.' And Mr. Blank hurried out.
[Illustration: ODONTOGLOSSUM, CORONARIUM.]
'Go to the Hun-to at least, sir--and to Mr. Martinez! Don't leave me
helpless to these devils!'
'I'll do all I can for you, but it's worse than useless my stopping here.'
Perhaps it is necessary to observe that the Europeans in Whydah had long
been subject to the King of Dahomey, ruled by a Viceroy. Each nationality
had its official chief, called Hun-to by the English, and the Portuguese
representative enjoyed particular consideration. Nevertheless, the Viceroy
was their absolute master, and he obeyed the fetich men.
It is so easy to conceive poor Boville's bewilderment and despair that I
shall not dwell upon the situation. With feverish haste he concealed his
orchids. Mr. Blank reappeared, with a rope fringed with strips of palm
leaf, dry and crackling. This he threw round Boville's neck.
'They daren't hurt you with that on!' he cried. 'Only the head priest can
remove it! Go down! I've set drink on the table! Good-bye!'
The poor fellow obeyed, taking a pistol. All the servants were clustered
at the door, wide-eyed, humming with terror and excitement. Presently the
drums sounded nearer and nearer--the throng opened--the Vokhimen danced
through, jibbering, curveting, posturing. He started at sight of the
palm-leaf cord, but passed by, unheeding a glass of rum which Boville
offered, and pranced upstairs. The agent was right. This devil knew where
to look! He thumped about a while overhead, then capered down, with a
bundle of orchids dangling on the iron stick. The glass was not refused
this time. After drinking, the summoner touched Boville with his wand of
office, saying, 'Come! The snake calls you!'
Boville did not understand the formula, but he guessed its meaning. There
was no help. He set forth. The Vokhimen pocketed the rum bottle and
followed, moving gravely enough now.
The mob shouted with astonishment at the appearance of a white criminal,
but when the cause of his arrest was seen--that bundle of the holy
Endua--astonishment changed to rage. Boville owed his life to the Azan,
the fetich cord, at that instant. But the drummers beat furiously, and, as
if in response, a dozen fetich men suddenly appeared, pushing through the
crowd. One side of their heads was shaven bare. They wore garments of
hideous fantasy, charms and horrid objects innumerable, and each a pair of
silver horns upon the forehead. Under this escort Boville marched to the
fetich place.
This was a bare piece of ground, encircled by the low dark dwellings of
the priests, with the sacred wood behind it, and in the midst the Snake
Temple. Often had Boville glanced into the small building, which has no
door, and seen the reptiles swarming inside. He did not feel the loathing
for snakes which is so common--happily, as it proved. But no man could
watch that multitude of restless, twining creatures without horror.
Led to the dreadful doorway, Boville turned, thinking to resist; but they
fell upon him, doubled him up--for the entrance was very low--and thrust
him in bodily. The poor fellow screamed in tumbling full length upon a
platform which occupied the middle. He had seen it alive with snakes,
writhing one over the other.
But none were there. He scrambled to his feet and looked round. The temple
had no windows, but the solid walls of adobe did not meet the roof, and
the level sun-rays of evening poured through the gap. There was nothing to
interrupt the view, save a besom and a basket. But no snake could he see.
A movement above caught his eye. He looked up.
There are men who would have lost their wits in terror at that sight. The
snakes were there, hundreds of them, perched upon the thickness of the
wall--the ridge of their bodies gleaming in the red light of sunset, their
long necks hanging down, waving and twining. Every head was turned towards
him, the glass-bright eyes fixed on his, and the tongues slithering with
eagerness. Nightmare was never so horrible.
For an instant Boville stood frozen, with dropped jaw and starting eyes,
the icy sweat streaming from every pore; then, howling in no human voice,
he burst through the doorway, through the guard, and fell in the midst of
a party advancing.
All the Europeans in Whydah were there, with the Viceroy himself, and the
head fetich man. The horrid absurdity of their equipment I have no room to
describe. The white men had been pleading, even threatening, and the
Viceroy supported them. When Boville dropped at their feet the last word
had been spoken. His punishment should be that decreed against the man who
kills a snake by evil chance--no worse.
'What is that?' Boville panted, when the agent who held him in his arms
had explained.
'Never mind--we'll do our best! And it is to be at once, thank God! Night
will soon be here!'
'Don't go--not all of you! Don't leave me with these devils!'
'We must, poor boy--to arrange. But we shall return.'
Boville remained among a group of fetich men, who sang and capered round,
making gruesome pantomime of tortures. Meanwhile, others were busy at a
shed with spades and bundles of reed. Dusk was settling down when they had
finished. The head priests returning took their stations, surrounded by
men with torches still unlit. All the population was gathered round the
holy area.
Mr. Blank came back with others. 'Listen,' he said. 'They are going to put
you--unbound--in a hole, cover you with reeds, and set them alight. You
must spring up and run to the nearest water, all these brutes after you.
But I have arranged with many of them, and they will intercept the others.
Now mark, for your life may depend on it! The law is that one who kills a
snake shall be cut and hacked till he reaches water! They expect you to
make for the river, but there is a pond on the very edge of the fetich
wood yonder! See? You make for that! You can't miss it if you go straight
between the torches and the temple. You understand? Now summon your
courage, man, and run for your life.'
He wrung Boville's hand. The executioners seized their victim and hurried
him to the shed, amidst a furious tumult--roaring, singing, beating of
drums, and blaring of cow-horns--thrust him into the hole, and heaped
combustibles over him. The instant he was free Boville sprang up, but the
reeds flared as quick as gunpowder. All ablaze he ran--the savage crew
pursuing. But they mostly expected him on the river side. With but little
hurt, save burns, he reached the pool and leapt in.
It is satisfactory to add that Boville did not suffer in health or fortune
by this dread experience. He became the richest trader in Whydah, a
special favourite with the natives. But he collected no more orchids.
INDEX
Angraecum sesquipedale, 97
Anguloa, 162
Anthurium × Albanense, 68
" × aurantiacum, 69
" × Goliath, 68
" × Lady Godiva, 68
" × Lawrenceae, 68
" × niveum, 69
" × Salmoniae, 68
" × Saumon, 69
" × The Queen, 69
Brassavola Digbyana--Story, 151
Bulbophyllum barbigerum--Story, 253
Calanthe × bella, 129
" × Clive, 130
" × Florence, 130
" × Sandhurstiana, 129
" × Veitchii alba, 130
" × Victoria Regina, 130
" × William Murray, 130
Cattleya × Atalanta, 91
" aurea, 26
" " R. H. Measures, 26
" bicolor Measuresiana, 26
" Bowringiana, 31
" " --Story, 37
" × Browniae, 90
" × Cecilia, 94
" × Chloris, 89
" chrysotoxa, 27
" Extermination of, 28, 144-148
" × Fowleri, 92
" Gaskelliana, 33
" " Dellensis, 33
" " Duke of Marlborough, 33
" " Godseffiana, 33
" " Herbertiana, 34
" " Measuresiana, 33
" " Miss Clara Measures, 33
" " Sanderiana, 34
" " Woodlandsensis, 34
" gigas, 25
" " Imschootiana, 25
" " Sanderae, 26
" guttata Leopoldii--Hybrids, 8
" Harrisoniae R. H. Measures, 35
" intermedia Louryana, 97
" " Parthenia, 96
" × Kienastiana, 91
" labiata Adelina, 147
" " alba, 146
" " Archduchess, 147
" " Baroness Schröder, 146
" " bella, 147
" " Her Majesty, 147
" " imperatrix, 145
" " Juno, 147
" " Macfarlanei, 146
" " Measuresiana, 146
" " Mrs. R. H. Measures, 146
" " nobilis, 145
" " Princesse de Croix, 146
" " Princess May, 147
" " Princess of Wales, 147
" " Robin Measures, 147
" " Sanderae, 146
" Lawrenceana, 148
" " Extermination of, 148
" × Louis Chaton, 94
" × Mantinii inversa, 89
" × " nobilior, 89
" × Mariottiana, 91
" × Mary Measures, 149
" Mendelii, 29
" " Duke of Marlborough, 30
" " Lily Measures, 30
" " Monica Measures, 30
" " Mrs. R. H. Measures, 30
" " R. H. Measures, 30
" " William Lloyd, 30
" × Miss Measures, 92
" Mossiae, 32
" " excelsior, 32
" " gigantea, 32
" " Gilbert Measures, 32
" " grandiflora, 32
" " Mrs. R. H. Measures, 32
" " --Story, 45
" " Wageneri, 32
" Mrs. Fred Hardy, 27
" × Mrs. Mahler, 13
" O'Brieniana, 94
" × Our Queen, 93
" × Portia, 89
" × Prince of Wales, 91
" Sanderiana, 26
" " A Collector's report upon, 28
" Schroderae, 30
" " Miss Mary Measures, 30
" Skinneri alba--Story, 59
" speciosissima alba, 31
" " Dawsonii, 31
" Trianae, 34
" " Macfarlanei, 34
" " Measuresiana, 35
" " Robert Measures, 35
" " Tyrianthina, 35
" " Woodlandsensis, 35
" Trismegistris, 27
" × Wendlandiana, 94
" × William Murray, 92
Coelogyne speciosa--Story, 135
Cymbidium × Lowiano-eburneum, 132
" × eburneo-Lowianum, 132
Cypripediums, 170
" × A de Lairesse, 191
" × Adrastus, 196
" × Alfred, 181
" × Amphion, 181
" × Annie Measures, 196
" × Antigone, 179
" × Aphrodite superbum, 179
" × Arnoldiae, 180
" × Arnoldianum, 180
" × Arthurianum pulchellum, 196
" × Astraea, 196
" × Athos, 196
" × aurantiacum, 197
" × Aylingii, 180
" × Baconis, 177
" × barbato-bellatulum, 178
" × Beeckmanii, 178
" bellatulum album, 177
" × " egregium, 178
" " eximium, 176
" Boissierianum--_vide_ reticulatum.
" × Brownii, 179
" × Brysa, 200
" × calloso-niveum, 181
" × callosum Sanderae, 180
" × Cardinale, 178
" × Charles Richmond, 202
" × chrysocomes, 178
" × Claudii, 178
" × Cleopatra, 197
" × conco-callosum, 181
" × " Curtisii, 181
" × " Lawre, 181
" Cowleyanum, 181
" Curtisii--Story, 183
" " (Woodlands variety), 182
" Cyanides, 180
" × Cydonia, 200
" × cymatodes, 191
" Dauthierii albino, 192
" " marmoratum, 192
" × Edwardii, 193
" × Engelhardtiae, 193
" × Evenor, 192
" × excelsior, 192
" Fairieanum, 193
" × Frau Ida Brandt, 196
" × Georges Truffaut, 194
" × Gertrude, 194
" × Gertrude Hollington, 177
" Godefroyae, 69
" × H. Ballantine, 177
" × H. Hannington, 179
" × Hector, 179
" × hirsuto-Sallierii, 199
" × Holidayanum, 199
" insigne, 53
" " Amesiae, 54
" " Bohnhoffianum, 54
" " clarissimum, 54
" " corrugatum, 55
" " Dimmockianum, 54
" " Dorothy, 55
" " Drewett's variety, 56
" " eximium, 56
" " Frederico, 55
" " Harefield Hall, 55
" " Hector, 56
" " Laura Kimball, 54
" " longisepalum, 54
" " Macfarlanei, 54
" " majesticum, 55
" " Measuresiae, 55
" " punctatum, 56
" " R. H. Measures, 55
" " Rona, 55
" " Sanderae, 56
" " Statterianum, 54
" × J. Coles, 200
" Javanicum, 199
" × Juno, 191
" × La France, 197
" × Lavinia, 200
" × Lawrebel, 197
" × " (Woodlands variety), 197
" × Lawrenceanum-Hyeanum, 198
" " Sir Trevor, 198
" leucochilum, 69
" × " giganteum, 199
" × Leysenianum, 199
" × Lily Measures, 197
" × Lord Derby, 192
" × M. Finet, 177
" × macropterum, 177
" × Marchioness of Salisbury, 199
" × Marshallianum, 199
" × Massaianum, 203
" × Measuresiae, 203
" × Measuresianum, 199
" × Miss Clara Measures, 203
" × Mrs. E. Cohen, 178
" × Mrs. E. G. Uihlein, 195
" × Mrs. Fred Hardy, 199
" × Mrs. Herbert Measures, 199
" × Mrs. W. A. Roebling, 202
" × Muriel Hollington, 200
" × Myra, 179
" × nitidum, 204
" × Olivia, 176
" × Paris, 201
" × Phoebe, 201
" platytaenium--Story, 205
" × Princess May, 201
" × Pylaeus, 201
" reticulatum, 202
" × Rowena, 201
" × Sade Lloyd, 191
" × Schofieldianum, 202
" × Sir Redvers Buller, 204
" × Southgatense, 203
" × " superbum, 203
" Spicerianum--Story, 213
" × Symonsianum, 200
" × Tautzianum lepidum, 194
" × Telemachus, 194
" × tesselatum porphyreum, 194
" venustum (Measures variety), 195
" × Watsonianum, 195
" × William Lloyd, 191
" × Winifred Hollington, 204
" × Woodlandsense, 195
" × Zeus, 196
Dendrobium × Ainsworthii, 110
" × Leechianum, 110
" Lowii--Story, 121
" nobile album, 110
" " Cooksoni, 110
" " murrhinianum, 110
" " Ruckerianum, 110
" " splendens grandiflorum, 110
" " virginale, 110
" phalaenopsis Schröderianum--Story, 113
" × Schneiderianum, 110
Epidendrum radicans, 110
" × radico-vitellinum, 111
Hybridisation--Remarks, 172
" Mr. Mead's experiments, 173
Laelia × Beatrice, 13
" × Claptonensis, 88
" elegans, 7
" " Adonis, 10
" " Amphion, 13
" " bella, 15
" " Blenheimensis, 13
" " Boadicea, 10
" " Cleopatra, 15
" " Doctor Ryan, 11
" " Empress, 10
" " euracheilos, 14
" " eximia, 15
" " F. Sander, 10
" " Frederico, 12
" " Godseffiana, 10
" " H. E. Moojen, 10
" " H. G. Gifkins, 10
" " haematochila, 11
" " Hallii, 14
" " incantans, 14
" " Juno, 13
" " Ladymead, 12
" " leucotata, 11
" " Lord Roberts, 16
" " Luciana, 12
" " luculenta, 12
" " Macfarlanei, 11
" " " II., 15
" " macroloba, 13
" " matuta, 13
" " Measuresiana, 12
" " Medusa, 10
" " melanochites, 14
" " Minerva, 13
" " Monica, 12
" " Morreniana, 13
" " Mrs. F. Sander, 10
" " Mrs. R. H. Measures, 11
" " Myersiana, 15
" " Neptune, 10
" " nyleptha, 11
" " Ophelia, 11
" " Oweniae, 14
" " paraleuka, 11
" " platychila, 12
" " Princess Stephanie, 13
" " Pyramus, 15
" " Red King, 10
" " Sade Lloyd, 11
" " Sappho, 15
" " Schilleriana, 14
" " " splendens, 12
" " Stella, 10
" " Stelzneriana, 12
" " Tautziana, 13
" " tenebrosa, 11
" " Venus, 12
" " Weathersiana, 14
" " Wolstenholmae, 15
" × Gravesiae, 88
" Jongheana, 249
" × Latona, 92
" × Measuresiana, 88
" Perrinii alba, 97
" " nivea, 97
" praestans alba, 32
" pumila marginata, 31
" purpurata, 107
" " Archduchess, 109
" " Lowiana, 109
" " Macfarlanei, 109
" " marginata, 109
" " tenebrosa, 109
" × Sanderae, 91
" × splendens, 91
" × Yula, 93
" × " inversa, 93
Laelio-Cattleya Albanensis, 91
" " amanda, 88
" " Amazon, 91
" " Amesiana, 93
" " Ancona, 88
" " Aphrodite, 91
" " Arnoldiana, 88
" " Bellairensis, 90
" " Broomfieldensis, 92
" " C.-G. Roebling, 92
" " callistoglossa, 92
" " " ignescens, 92
" " Canhamiana, 94
" " D. S. Brown, 92
" " Decia, 92
" " Empress of India, 94
" " Eudora, 93
" " " alba, 93
" " euspatha, 14
" " excellens, 91
" " Exoniensis, 93
" " Fire Queen, 89
" " Harold Measures, 11
" " Henry Greenwood, 94
" " Hippolyta, 93
" " Hon. Mrs. Astor, 91
" " Lady Wigan, 89
" " leucoglossa, 94
" " Mardellii fascinator, 92
" " Measuresiana, 88
" " Miss Lily Measures, 94
" " Nysa, 88
" " Pallas superba, 94
" " Robin Measures, 90
" " Tiresias, 88
" " " superba, 90
" " Tresederiana, 89
" " velutino-elegans, 94
" " Zephyra, 93
Laelio-Cattleyas unflowered and unnamed--List of, 95
Lycaste aromatica, 159
" Denningiana, 160
" fulvescens, 160
" leucantha, 159
" Locusta, 160
" Mooreana, 160
" plana lassioglossa, 159
" " Measuresiana, 160
" Skinneri alba, 159
" " Lady Roberts, 159
" " Phyllis, 159
Madagascar--Legend of, 99
Masdevallia abbreviata, 237
" amabilis, 237
" Bonplandii, 237
" caudata, 237
" Chelsoni, 237
" coccinea, 238
" Harryana Armeniaca, 237
" " Bull's Blood, 237
" " Denisoniana, 237
" " Sander's Scarlet, 237
" " splendens, 237
" " versicolor, 237
" ignea splendens, 237
" macrura, 238
" melanopus, 238
" peristeria, 238
" polysticta, 237
" Veitchii grandiflora, 237
" Wallisii stupenda, 238
Miltonia Binottii, 162
" vexillaria Cobbiana, 228
" " Measuresiana, 228
" " rubella, 228
Odontoglossum baphicanthum, 226
" Bictoniense album, 223
" coronarium, 225
" crispo-Harryanum, 225
" crispum Arthurianum, 225
" " aureum, 227
" " Chestertoni, 227
" " Cooksoni, 227
" " Dayanum, 228
" " magnificum, 223
" " Measuresiae, 223
" " Our Empress, 223
" " purpureum, 228
" " Reginae, 227
" " virginale, 223
" " Woodlandsense, 223
" cristatellum, 224
" Edithae, 223
" elegans, 223
" facetum, 224
" grande magnificum, 227
" Hallii leucoglossum, 224
" " magnificum, 224
" Harryanum--Story, 229
" Humeanum, 226
" Hunnewellianum, 223
" Josephinae, 223
" Lindeni, 226
" Madrense, 224
" mirandum, 224
" mulus, 222
" Murrellianum, 226
" Pescatorei album, 227
" " Germinyanum, 225
" " grandiflorum, 228
" " splendens, 228
" " violaceum, 228
" platycheilum, 226
" polyxanthum magnificum, 224
" Rossii aspersum, 227
" Ruckerianum, 222
" " splendens, 222
" sceptrum, 225
" Schillerianum, 226
" tripudians oculatum, 226
" vexillarium--_vide_ Miltonia
" Vuylstekeanum, 222
" Wallisii, 224
" Wilckeanum, 222
" " albens, 222
" " pallens, 222
" " Rothschildianum, 225
Oncidium lamelligerum, 239
" Loxense, 240
" ornithorhynchum album, 239
" splendidum--Story, 241
" tetracopis, 239
" undulatum, 239
" Weltoni, 240
Phaio-calanthe Arnoldiae, 130
Phajus × Ashworthianus, 130
" × Cooksoni, 130
" × Marthae, 130
" × Owenianus, 130
" × Phoebe, 130
Phalaenopsis, 67
" × Hebe, 68
" Sanderiana--Story, 79
Pothos aurea, 147
Roezl--Legend of, 17
Sobralia × Amesiana, 161
" Kienastiana--Story, 163
" Measuresiana, 161
" Sanderae, 161
" × Veitchii, 161
Spathoglottis × aureo-Veillardii, 111
Thunia Bensoniae, 131
" Marshalliana, 131
Vanda, 69
" × Miss Joaquim, 69
" Sanderiana--Story, 71
Zygo-colax leopardinus, 131
Zygopetalum × Perrenoudii, 131
THE END
_Printed by_ R. & R. CLARK, LIMITED, _Edinburgh_
Footnotes:
[1] It seems not unlikely that scholars may read this and misunderstand. I
am not ignorant that 'the Ancients' had frames, probably warmed
green-houses--since they flowered roses at mid-winter--and certainly
conservatories. But these facts do not bear upon the argument.
[2] Two or three years ago, however, the Government of New Granada made a
law forbidding such destruction of trees--a measure which has happily
reduced the output of orchids, since the natives are unwilling to climb
for them.
Transcriber's Notes:
Passages in italics are indicated by _underscore_.
The misprint "ear" has been corrected to "are" (page 224).
Printer's inconsistencies in spelling and hyphenation usage have been
retained from the original.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Woodlands Orchids, by Frederick Boyle
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