Chapter 8

_Dendrobium Wardianum_, at the present day, comes almost exclusively from Burmah--the neighbourhood of the Ruby Mines is its favourite habitat. But it was first brought to England from Assam in 1858, when botanists regarded it as a form of _D. Falconeri_. This error was not so strange as its seems, for the Assamese variety has pseudo-bulbs much less sturdy than those we are used to see, and they are quite pendulous. It was rather a lively business collecting orchids in Burmah before the annexation. The Roman Catholic missionaries established there made it a source of income, and they did not greet an intruding stranger with warmth--not genial warmth, at least. He was forbidden to quit the town of Bhamo, an edict which compelled him to employ native collectors--in fact, coolies--himself waiting helplessly within the walls; but his reverend rivals, having greater freedom and an acquaintance with the language, organized a corps of skirmishers to prowl round and intercept the natives returning with their loads. Doubtless somebody received the value when they made a haul, but who, is uncertain perhaps--and the stranger was disappointed, anyhow. It may be believed that unedifying scenes arose--especially on two or three occasions when an agent had almost reached one of the four gates before he was intercepted. For the hapless collector--having nothing in the world to do--haunted those portals all day long, flying from one to the other in hope to see "somebody coming." Very droll, but Burmah is a warm country for jests of the kind. Thus it happened occasionally that he beheld his own discomfiture, and rows ensued at the Mission-house. At length Mr. Sander addressed a formal petition to the Austrian Archbishop, to whom the missionaries owed allegiance. He received a sympathetic answer, and some assistance.

From the Ruby Mines also comes a Dendrobium so excessively rare that I name it only to call the attention of employés in the new company. This is _D. rhodopterygium_. Sir Trevor Lawrence has or had a plant, I believe; there are two or three at St. Albans; but the lists of other dealers will be searched in vain. Sir Trevor Lawrence had also a scarlet species from Burmah; but it died even before the christening, and no second has yet been found. Sumatra furnishes a scarlet Dendrobe, _D. Forstermanni_, but it again is of the utmost rarity. Baron Schroeder boasts three specimens--which have not yet flowered, however. From Burmah comes _D. Brymerianum_, of which the story is brief, but very thrilling if we ponder it a moment. For the missionaries sent this plant to Europe without a description--they had not seen the bloom, doubtless--and it sold cheap enough. We may fancy Mr. Brymer's emotion, therefore, when the striking flower opened. Its form is unique, though some other varieties display a long fringe--as that extraordinary object, _Nanodes Medusæ_, and also _Brassavola Digbyana_, which is exquisitely lovely sometimes. In the case of _D. Brymerianum_ the bright yellow lip is split all round, for two-thirds of its expanse, into twisted filaments. We may well ask what on earth is Nature's purpose in this eccentricity; but it is a question that arises every hour to the most thoughtless being who grows orchids.

Everybody knows _Dendrobium nobile_ so well that it is not to be discussed in prose; something might be done in poetry, perhaps, by young gentlemen who sing of buttercups and daisies, but the rhyme would be difficult. _D. nobile nobilius_, however, is by no means so common--would it were! This glorified form turned up among an importation made by Messrs. Rollisson. They propagated it, and sold four small pieces, which are still in cultivation. But the troubles of that renowned firm, to which we owe so great a debt, had already begun. The mother-plant was neglected. It had fallen into such a desperate condition when Messrs. Rollisson's plants were sold, under a decree in bankruptcy, that the great dealers refused to bid for what should have been a little gold-mine. A casual market-gardener hazarded thirty shillings, brought it round so far that he could establish a number of young plants, and sold the parent for forty pounds at last. There are, however, several fine varieties of _D. nobile_ more valuable than _nobilius_. _D. n. Sanderianum_ resembles that form, but it is smaller and darker. Albinos have been found; Baron Schroeder has a beautiful example. One appeared at Stevens' Rooms, announced as the single instance in cultivation--which is not quite the fact, but near enough for the auction-room, perhaps. It also was imported originally by Mr. Sander, with _D. n. Sanderianum_. Biddings reached forty-three pounds, but the owner would not deal at the price. Albinos are rare among the Dendrobes.

_D. nobile Cooksoni_ was the _fons et origo_ of an unpleasant misunderstanding. It turned up in the collection of Mr. Lange, distinguished by a reversal of the ordinary scheme of colour. There is actually no end to the delightful vagaries of these plants. If people only knew what interest and pleasing excitement attends the inflorescence of an imported orchid--one, that is, which has not bloomed before in Europe--they would crowd the auction-rooms in which every strange face is marked now. There are books enough to inform them, certainly; but who reads an Orchid Book? Even the enthusiast only consults it.

_Dendrobium nobile Cooksoni_, then, has white tips to petal and sepal; the crimson spot keeps its place; and the inside of the flower is deep red--an inversion of the usual colouring. Mr. Lange could scarcely fail to observe this peculiarity, but he seems to have thought little of it. Mr. Cookson, paying him a visit, was struck, however--as well he might be--and expressed a wish to have the plant. So the two distinguished amateurs made an exchange. Mr. Cookson sent a flower at once to Professor Reichenbach, who, delighted and enthusiastic, registered it upon the spot under the name of the gentleman from whom he received it. Mr. Lange protested warmly, demanding that his discovery should be called, after his residence, _Heathfieldsayeanum_. But Professor Reichenbach drily refused to consider personal questions; and really, seeing how short is life, and how long _Dendrobium nobile Heathfield_, &c., true philanthropists will hold him justified.

We may expect wondrous Dendrobes from New Guinea. Some fine species have already arrived, and others have been sent in the dried inflorescence. Of _D. phaloenopsis Schroederi_ I have spoken elsewhere. There is _D. Goldiei_; a variety of _D. superbiens_--but much larger. There is _D. Albertesii_, snow-white; _D. Broomfieldianum_, curiously like _Loelia anceps alba_ in its flower--which is to say that it must be the loveliest of all Dendrobes. But this species has a further charm, almost incredible. The lip in some varieties is washed with lavender blue, in some with crimson! Another is nearly related to _D. bigibbum_, but much larger, with sepals more acute. Its hue is a glorious rosy-purple, deepening on the lip, the side lobes of which curl over and meet, forming a cylindrical tube, while the middle lobe, prolonged, stands out at right angles, veined with very dark purple; this has just been named _D. Statterianum_. It has upon the disc an elevated, hairy crest, like _D. bigibbum_, but instead of being white as always, more or less, in that instance, the crest of the new species is dark purple. I have been particular in describing this noble flower, because very, very few have beheld it. Those who live will see marvels when the Dutch and German portions of New Guinea are explored.

Recently I have been privileged to see another, the most impressive to my taste, of all the lovely genus. It is called _D. atro-violaceum_. The stately flowers hang down their heads, reflexed like a "Turban Lily," ten or a dozen on a spike. The colour is ivory-white, with a faintest tinge of green, and green spots are dotted all over. The lobes of the lip curl in, making half the circumference of a funnel, the outside of which is dark violet-blue; with that fine colour the lip itself is boldly striped. They tell me that the public is not expected to "catch on" to this marvel. It hangs its head too low, and the contrast of hues is too startling. If that be so, we multiply schools of art and County Council lectures perambulate the realm, in vain. The artistic sense is denied us.

Madagascar also will furnish some astonishing novelties; it has already begun, in fact--with a vengeance. Imagine a scarlet Cymbidium! That such a wonder existed has been known for some years, and three collectors have gone in search of it; two died, and the third has been terribly ill since his return to Europe--but he won the treasure, which we shall behold in good time. Those parts of Madagascar which especially attract botanists must be death-traps indeed! M. Léon Humblot tells how he dined at Tamatave with his brother and six compatriots, exploring the country with various scientific aims. Within twelve months he was the only survivor. One of these unfortunates, travelling on behalf of Mr. Cutler, the celebrated naturalist of Bloomsbury Street, to find butterflies and birds, shot at a native idol, as the report goes. The priests soaked him with paraffin, and burnt him on a table--perhaps their altar. M. Humblot himself has had awful experiences. He was attached to the geographical survey directed by the French Government, and ten years ago he found _Phajus Humblotii_ and _Phajus tuberculosus_ in the deadliest swamps of the interior. A few of the bulbs gathered lived through the passage home, and caused much excitement when offered for sale at Stevens' Auction Rooms. M. Humblot risked his life again, and secured a great quantity for Mr. Sander, but at a dreadful cost. He spent twelve months in the hospital at Mayotte, and on arrival at Marseilles with his plants the doctors gave him no hope of recovery. _P. Humblotii_ is a marvel of beauty--rose-pink, with a great crimson labellum exquisitely frilled, and a bright green column.

Everybody who knows his "Darwin" is aware that Madagascar is the chosen home of the Angræcums. All, indeed, are natives of Africa, so far as I know, excepting the delightful _A. falcatum_, which comes, strangely enough, from Japan. One cannot but suspect, under the circumstances, that this species was brought from Africa ages ago, when the Japanese were enterprising seamen, and has been acclimatized by those skilful horticulturists. It is certainly odd that the only "cool" Aerides--the only one found, I believe, outside of India and the Eastern Tropics--also belongs to Japan, and a cool Dendrobe, _A. arcuatum_, is found in the Transvaal; and I have reason to hope that another or more will turn up when South Africa is thoroughly searched. A pink Angræcum, very rarely seen, dwells somewhere on the West Coast; the only species, so far as I know, which is not white. It bears the name of M. Du Chaillu, who found it--he has forgotten where, unhappily. I took that famous traveller to St. Albans in the hope of quickening his recollection, and I fear I bored him afterwards with categorical inquiries. But all was vain. M. Du Chaillu can only recall that once on a time, when just starting for Europe, it occurred to him to run into the bush and strip the trees indiscriminately. Mr. Sander was prepared to send a man expressly for this Angræcum. The exquisite _A. Sanderianum_ is a native of the Comorro Islands. No flower could be prettier than this, nor more deliciously scented--when scented it is! It grows in a climate which travellers describe as Paradise, and, in truth, it becomes such a scene. Those who behold young plants with graceful garlands of snowy bloom twelve to twenty inches long are prone to fall into raptures; but imagine it as a long-established specimen appears just now at St Albans, with racemes drooping two and a half feet from each new growth, clothed on either side with flowers like a double train of white long-tailed butterflies hovering! _A. Scottianum_ comes from Zanzibar, discovered, I believe, by Sir John Kirk; _A. caudatum_, from Sierra Leone. This latter species is the nearest rival of _A. sesquipedale_, showing "tails" ten inches long. Next in order for this characteristic detail rank _A. Leonis_ and _Kotschyi_--the latter rarely grown--with seven-inch "tails;" _Scottianum_ and _Ellisii_ with six-inch; that is to say, they ought to show such dimensions respectively. Whether they fulfil their promise depends upon the grower.

With the exceptions named, this family belongs to Madagascar. It has a charming distinction, shared by no other genus which I recall, save, in less degree, Cattleya--every member is attractive. But I must concentrate myself on the most striking--that which fascinated Darwin. In the first place it should be pointed out that _savants_ call this plant _Æranthus sesquipedalis_, not _Angræcum_--a fact useful to know, but unimportant to ordinary mortals. It was discovered by the Rev. Mr. Ellis, and sent home alive, nearly thirty years ago; but civilized mankind has not yet done wondering at it. The stately growth, the magnificent green-white flowers, command admiration at a glance, but the "tail," or spur, offers a problem of which the thoughtful never tire. It is commonly ten inches long, sometimes fourteen inches, and at home, I have been told, even longer; about the thickness of a goose-quill, hollow, of course, the last inch and a half filled with nectar. Studying this appendage by the light of the principles he had laid down, Darwin ventured on a prophecy which roused special mirth among the unbelievers. Not only the abnormal length of the nectary had to be considered; there was, besides, the fact that all its honey lay at the base, a foot or more from the orifice. Accepting it as a postulate that every detail of the apparatus must be equally essential for the purpose it had to serve, he made a series of experiments which demonstrated that some insect of Madagascar--doubtless a moth--must be equipped with a proboscis long enough to reach the nectar, and at the same time thick enough at the base to withdraw the pollinia--thus fertilizing the bloom. For, if the nectar had lain so close to the orifice that moths with a proboscis of reasonable length and thickness could get at it, they would drain the cup without touching the pollinia. Darwin never proved his special genius more admirably than in this case. He created an insect beyond belief, as one may say, by the force of logic; and such absolute confidence had he in his own syllogism that he declared, "If such great moths were to become extinct in Madagascar, assuredly this Angræcum would become extinct." I am not aware that Darwin's fine argument has yet been clinched by the discovery of that insect. But cavil has ceased. Long before his death a sphinx moth arrived from South Brazil which shows a proboscis between ten and eleven inches long--very nearly equal, therefore, to the task of probing the nectary of _Angræcum sesquipidale_. And we know enough of orchids at this time to be absolutely certain that the Madagascar species must exist.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 4: _Vide_ "The Lost Orchid," _infra_, p. 173.]

[Footnote 5: I have learned by a doleful experience that this fly, commonly called "the weavil," is quite at home on _Loelia purpurata_; in fact, it will prey on any Cattleya.]

HOT ORCHIDS.

In former chapters I have done my best to show that orchid culture is no mystery. The laws which govern it are strict and simple, easy to define in books, easily understood, and subject to few exceptions. It is not with Odontoglossums and Dendrobes as with roses--an intelligent man or woman needs no long apprenticeship to master their treatment. Stove orchids are not so readily dealt with; but then, persons who own a stove usually keep a gardener. Coming from the hot lowlands of either hemisphere, they show much greater variety than those of the temperate and sub-tropic zones; there are more genera, though not so many species, and more exceptions to every rule. These, therefore, are not to be recommended to all householders. Not everyone indeed is anxious to grow plants which need a minimum night heat of 60° in winter, 70° in summer, and cannot dispense with fire the whole year round.

The hottest of all orchids probably is _Peristeria elata_, the famous "Spirito Santo," flower of the Holy Ghost. The dullest soul who observes that white dove rising with wings half spread, as in the very act of taking flight, can understand the frenzy of the Spaniards when they came upon it. Rumours of Peruvian magnificence had just reached them at Panama--on the same day, perhaps--when this miraculous sign from heaven encouraged them to advance. The empire of the Incas did not fall a prey to that particular band of ruffians, nevertheless. _Peristeria elata_ is so well known that I would not dwell upon it, but an odd little tale rises to my mind. The great collector Roezl was travelling homeward, in 1868, by Panama. The railway fare to Colon was sixty dollars at that time, and he grudged the money. Setting his wits to work, Roezl discovered that the company issued tickets from station to station at a very low price for the convenience of its employés. Taking advantage of this system, he crossed the isthmus for five dollars--such an advantage it is in travelling to be an old campaigner! At one of the intermediate stations he had to wait for his train, and rushed into the jungle of course. _Peristeria_ abounded in that steaming swamp, but the collector was on holiday. To his amazement, however, he found, side by side with it, a Masdevallia--that genus most impatient of sunshine among all orchids, flourishing here in the hottest blaze! Snatching up half a dozen of the tender plants with a practised hand, he brought them safe to England. On the day they were put up to auction news of Livingstone's death arrived, and in a flash of inspiration Roezl christened his novelty _M. Livingstoniana_. Few, indeed, even among authorities, know where that rarest of Masdevallias has its home; none have reached Europe since. A pretty flower it is--white, rosy tipped, with yellow "tails." And it dwells by the station of Culebras, on the Panama railway.

Of genera, however, doubtless the Vandas are hottest; and among these, _V. Sanderiana_ stands first. It was found in Mindanao, the most southerly of the Philippines, by Mr. Roebelin when he went thither in search of the red Phaloenopsis, as will be told presently. _Vanda Sanderiana_ is a plant to be described as majestic rather than lovely, if we may distinguish among these glorious things. Its blooms are five inches across, pale lilac in their ground colour, suffused with brownish yellow, and covered with a network of crimson brown. Twelve or more of such striking flowers to a spike, and four or five spikes upon a plant make a wonder indeed. But, to view matters prosaically, _Vanda_ _Sanderiana_ is "bad business." It is not common, and it grows on the very top of the highest trees, which must be felled to secure the treasure; and of those gathered but a small proportion survive. In the first place, the agent must employ natives, who are paid so much per plant, no matter what the size--a bad system, but they will allow no change. It is evidently their interest to divide any "specimen" that will bear cutting up; if the fragments bleed to death, they have got their money meantime. Then, the Manilla steamers call at Mindanao only once a month. Three months are needed to get together plants enough to yield a fair profit. At the end of that time a large proportion of those first gathered will certainly be doomed--Vandas have no pseudo-bulbs to sustain their strength. Steamers run from Manilla to Singapore every fortnight. If the collector be fortunate he may light upon a captain willing to receive his packages; in that case he builds structures of bamboo on deck, and spends the next fortnight in watering, shading, and ventilating his precious _trouvailles_, alternately. But captains willing to receive such freight must be waited for too often. At Singapore it is necessary to make a final overhauling of the plants--to their woeful diminution. This done, troubles recommence. Seldom will the captain of a mail steamer accept that miscellaneous cargo. Happily, the time of year is, or ought to be, that season when tea-ships arrive at Singapore. The collector may reasonably hope to secure a passage in one of these, which will carry him to England in thirty-five days or so. If this state of things be pondered, even without allowance for accident, it will not seem surprising that _V. Sanderiana_ is a costly species. The largest piece yet secured was bought by Sir Trevor Lawrence at auction for ninety guineas. It had eight stems, the tallest four feet high. No consignment has yet returned a profit, however.

The favoured home of Vandas is Java. They are noble plants even when at rest, if perfect--that is, clothed in their glossy, dark green leaves from base to crown. If there be any age or any height at which the lower leaves fall of necessity, I have not been able to identify it. In Mr. Sander's collection, for instance, there is a giant plant of _Vanda suavis_, eleven growths, a small thicket, established in 1847. The tallest stem measures fifteen feet, and every one of its leaves remain. They fall off easily under bad treatment, but the mischief is reparable at a certain sacrifice. The stem may be cut through and the crown replanted, with leaves perfect; but it will be so much shorter, of course. The finest specimen I ever heard of is the _V. Lowii_ at Ferrières, seat of Baron Alphonse de Rothschild, near Paris. It fills the upper part of a large greenhouse, and year by year its twelve stems produce an indefinite number of spikes, eight to ten feet long, covered with thousands of yellow and brown blooms.[6] Vandas inhabit all the Malayan Archipelago; some are found even in India. The superb _V. teres_ comes from Sylhet; from Burmah also. This might be called the floral cognizance of the house of Rothschild. At Frankfort, Vienna, Ferrières, and Gunnersbury little meadows of it are grown--that is, the plants flourish at their own sweet will, uncumbered with pots, in houses devoted to them. Rising from a carpet of palms and maidenhair, each crowned with its drooping garland of rose and crimson and cinnamon-brown, they make a glorious show indeed. A pretty little coincidence was remarked when the Queen paid a visit to Waddesdon the other day. _V. teres_ first bloomed in Europe at Syon House, and a small spray was sent to the young Princess, unmarried then and uncrowned. The incident recurred to memory when Baron Ferdinand de Rothschild chose this same flower for the bouquet presented to Her Majesty; he adorned the luncheon table therewith besides. This story bears a moral. The plant of which one spray was a royal gift less than sixty years ago has become so far common that it may be used in masses to decorate a room. Thousands of unconsidered subjects of Her Majesty enjoy the pleasure which one great duke monopolized before her reign began. There is matter for an essay here. I hasten back to my theme.