The Woodlands Orchids, Described and Illustrated

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.