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Odontoglossum Crispum Alexandrae |
This is a subject which would interest
every cultured reader, I believe, every householder at least, if he
could be brought to understand that it lies well within the range of
his practical concerns. But the public has still to be persuaded. It
seems strange to the expert that delusions should prevail when
orchids are so common and so much talked of; but I know by
experience that the majority of people, even among those who love
their |
garden, regard them as fantastic and
mysterious creations, designed, to all seeming, for the greater
glory of pedants and millionaires. I try to do my little part,
as occasion serves, in correcting this popular error, and spreading
a knowledge of the facts. It is no less than a duty. If every human
being should do what he can to promote the general happiness, it
would be downright wicked to leave one's fellow-men under the
influence of hallucinations that debar them from the most charming
of quiet pleasures. I suspect also that the misapprehension of the
public is largely due to the conduct of experts in the past. It was
a rule with growers formerly, avowed among themselves, to keep their
little secrets. When Mr. B.S. Williams published the first edition
of his excellent book forty years ago, he fluttered his colleagues
sadly. The plain truth is that no class of plant can be cultivated
so easily, as none are so certain to repay the trouble, as the Cool
Orchids.
Nearly all the genera of this enormous family have species which
grow in a temperate climate, if not in the temperate zone. At this
moment, in fact, I recall but two exceptions, Vanda and Phalœnopsis.
Many more there are, of course—half a dozen have occurred to me
while I wrote the last six words—but in the small space at command I
must cling to generalities. We have at least a hundred genera which
will flourish anywhere if the frost be excluded; and as for species,
a list of two thousand would not exhaust them probably. But a
reasonable man may content himself with the great classes of
Odontoglossum, Oncidium, Cypripedium, and Lycaste; among the
varieties of these, which no one has ventured to calculate perhaps,
he may spend a happy existence. They have every charm—foliage always
green, a graceful habit, flowers that rank among the master works of
Nature. The poor man who succeeds with them in his modest "bit of
glass" has no cause to envy Dives his flaunting Cattleyas and
"fox-brush" Aerides. I should like to publish it in capitals—that
nine in ten of those suburban householders who read this book may
grow the loveliest of orchids if they can find courage to try.
Odontoglossums stand first, of course—I know not where to begin the
list of their supreme merits. It will seem perhaps a striking
advantage to many that they burst into flower at any time, as they
chance to ripen. I think that the very perfection of culture is
discounted somewhat in this instance. The gardener who keeps his
plants at the ne plus ultra stage brings them all into bloom within
the space of a few weeks. Thus in the great collections there is
such a show during April, May, and June as the Gardens of Paradise
could not excel, and hardly a spike in the cool houses for the rest
of the year. At a large establishment this signifies nothing; when
the Odontoglossums go off other things "come on" with equal
regularity. But the amateur, with his limited assortment, misses
every bloom. He has no need for anxiety with this genus. It is their
instinct to flower in spring, of course, but they are not pedantic
about it in the least. Some tiny detail overlooked here and there,
absolutely unimportant to health, will retard florescence. It might
very well happen that the owner of a dozen pots had one blooming
every month successively. And that would mean two spikes open, for,
with care, most Odontoglossums last above four weeks.
Another virtue, shared by others of the cool class in some degree,
is their habit of growing in winter. They take no "rest;" all the
year round their young bulbs are swelling, graceful foliage
lengthening, roots pushing, until the spike demands a concentration
of all their energy. But winter is the most important time. I think
any man will see the peculiar blessing of this arrangement. It gives
interest to the long dull days, when other plant life is at a
standstill. It furnishes material for cheering meditations on a
Sunday morning—is that a trifle? And at this season the pursuit is
joy unmixed. We feel no anxious questionings, as we go about our
daily business, whether the placens uxor forgot to remind Mary, when
she went out, to pull the blinds down; whether Mary followed the
instructions if given; whether those confounded patent ventilators
have snapped to again. Green fly does not harass us. One syringing a
day, and one watering per week suffice. Truly these are not grave
things, but the issue at stake is precious: we enjoy the boon of
relief proportionately.
Very few of those who grow Odontoglossums know much about the
"Trade," or care, seemingly. It is a curious subject, however. The
genus is American exclusively. It ranges over the continent from the
northern frontier of Mexico to the southern frontier of Peru,
excepting, to speak roughly, the empire of Brazil. This limitation
is odd. It cannot be due to temperature simply, for, upon the one
hand, we receive Sophronitis, a very cool genus, from Brazil, and
several of the coolest Cattleyas; upon the other, Odontoglossum
Roezlii, a very hot species, and O. vexillarium, most decidedly
warm, flourish up to the boundary. Why these should not step across,
even if their mountain sisters refuse companionship with the
Sophronitis, is a puzzle. Elsewhere, however, they abound.
Collectors distinctly foresee the time when all the districts they
have "worked" up to this will be exhausted. But South America
contains a prodigious number of square miles, and a day's march from
the track carries one into terra incognita. Still, the end will
come. The English demand has stripped whole provinces, and now all
the civilized world is entering into competition. We are sadly
assured that Odontoglossums carried off will not be replaced for
centuries. Most other genera of orchid propagate so freely that
wholesale depredations are made good in very few years. For reasons
beyond our comprehension as yet, the Odontoglossum stands in
different case. No one in England has raised a plant from seed—that
we may venture to say definitely. Mr. Cookson and Mr. Veitch,
perhaps others also, have obtained living germs, but they died
incontinently. Frenchmen, aided by the climate, have been rather
more successful. MM. Bleu and Moreau have both flowered seedling
Odontoglots. M. Jacob, who takes charge of M. Edmund de Rothschild's
orchids at Armainvilliers, has a considerable number of young
plants. The reluctance of Odontoglots to propagate is regarded as
strange; it supplies a constant theme for discussion among
orchidologists. But I think that if we look more closely it appears
consistent with other facts known. For among importations of every
genus but this—and Cypripedium—a plant bearing its seed-capsules is
frequently discovered; but I cannot hear of such an incident in the
case of Odontoglossums. They have been arriving in scores of
thousands, year by year, for half a century almost, and scarcely
anyone recollects observing a seed-capsule. This shows how rarely
they fertilize in their native home. When that event happens, the
Odontoglossum is yet more prolific than most, and the germs, of
course, are not so delicate under their natural conditions. But the
moral to be drawn is that a country once stripped will not be
reclothed.
I interpolate here a profound observation of Mr. Roezl. That
wonderful man remarked that Odontoglossums grow upon branches thirty
feet above the ground. It is rare to find them at thirty-five feet,
rarer at twenty-five; at greater and less heights they do not exist.
Here, doubtless, we have the secret of their reluctance to
fertilize; but I will offer no comments, because the more one
reflects the more puzzling it becomes. Evidently the seed must be
carried above and must fall below that limit, under circumstances
which, to our apprehension, seem just as favourable as those at the
altitude of thirty feet. But they do not germinate. Upon the other
hand, Odontoglossums show no such daintiness of growth in our
houses. They flourish at any height, if the general conditions be
suitable. Mr. Roezl discovered a secret nevertheless, and in good
time we shall learn further.
To the Royal Horticultural Society of England belongs the honour of
first importing orchids methodically and scientifically. Messrs.
Weir and Fortune, I believe, were their earliest employés. Another
was Theodor Hartweg, who discovered Odontoglossum crispum Alexandræ
in 1842; but he sent home only dried specimens. From these Lindley
described and classed the plant, aided by the sketch of a Spanish or
Peruvian artist, Tagala. A very curious mistake Lindley fell into on
either point. The scientific error does not concern us, but he
represented the colouring of the flower as yellow with a purple
centre. So Tagala painted it, and his drawing survives. It is an odd
little story. He certainly had Hartweg's bloom before him, and that
certainly was white. But then again yellow Alexandræs have been
found since that day. To the Horticultural Society we are indebted,
not alone for the discovery of this wonder, but also for its
introduction. John Weir was travelling for them when he sent living
specimens in 1862. It is not surprising that botanists thought it
new after what has been said. As such Mr. Bateman named it after the
young Princess of Wales—a choice most appropriate in every way.
About Orchids
About Orchids, 1893 |
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