The Woodlands Orchids, Described and Illustrated

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.

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.