Chapter 3

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.

_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.