The Woodlands Orchids, Described and Illustrated

The Woodlands Orchids, Described and Illustrated
Frederick Boyle

Frederick Boyle

The Woodlands Orchids, Described and Illustrated / With Stories of Orchid-Collecting

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 - 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.]

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.

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.