THE LOST ORCHID.
Not a few orchids are "lost"—have been described that is, and named,
even linger in some great collection, but, bearing no history, cannot
now be found. Such, for instance, are Cattleya Jongheana, Cymbidium
Hookerianum, Cypripedium Fairianum. But there is one to which the
definite article might have been applied a very few days ago. This is
Cattleya labiata vera. It was the first to bear the name of Cattleya,
though not absolutely the first of that genus discovered. C.
Loddigesii preceded it by a few years, but was called an Epidendrum.
Curious it is to note how science has returned in this latter day to the
views of a pre-scientific era. Professor Reichenbach was only restrained
from abolishing the genus Cattleya, and merging all its species into
Epidendrum, by regard for the weakness of human nature. Cattleya
labiata vera was sent from Brazil to Dr. Lindley by Mr. W. Swainson,
and reached Liverpool in 1818. So much is certain, for Lindley makes
the statement in his Collectanea Botanica. But legends and myths
encircle that great event. It is commonly told in books that Sir W.
Jackson Hooker, Regius Professor of Botany at Glasgow, begged Mr.
Swainson—who was collecting specimens in natural history—to send him
some lichens. He did so, and with the cases arrived a quantity of
orchids which had been used to pack them. Less suitable material for
"dunnage" could not be found, unless we suppose that it was thrust
between the boxes to keep them steady. Paxton is the authority for this
detail, which has its importance. The orchid arriving in such humble
fashion proved to be Cattleya labiata; Lindley gave it that
name—there was no need to add vera then. He established a new genus
for it, and thus preserved for all time the memory of Mr. Cattley, a
great horticulturist dwelling at Barnet. There was no ground in
supposing the species rare. A few years afterwards, in fact, Mr.
Gardner, travelling in pursuit of butterflies and birds, sent home
quantities of a Cattleya which he found on the precipitous sides of the
Pedro Bonita range, and also on the Gavea, which our sailors call
"Topsail" Mountain, or "Lord Hood's Nose." These orchids passed as C.
labiata for a while. Paxton congratulated himself and the world in his
Flower Garden that the stock was so greatly increased. Those were the
coaching days, when botanists had not much opportunity for comparison.
It is to be observed, also, that Gardner's Cattleya was the nearest
relative of Swainson's;—it is known at present as C. labiata Warneri.
The true species, however, has points unmistakable. Some of its kinsfolk
show a double flower-sheath;—very, very rarely, under exceptional
circumstances. But Cattleya labiata vera never fails, and an
interesting question it is to resolve why this alone should be so
carefully protected. One may cautiously surmise that its habitat is even
damper than others'. In the next place, some plants have their leaves
red underneath, others green, and the flower-sheath always corresponds;
this peculiarity is shared by C.l. Warneri alone. Thirdly—and there
is the grand distinction, the one which gives such extreme value to the
species—it flowers in the late autumn, and thus fills a gap. Those who
possess a plant may have Cattleyas in bloom the whole year round—and
they alone. Accordingly, it makes a section by itself in the
classification of Reichenbachia, as the single species that flowers
from the current year's growth, after resting. Section II. contains the
species that flower from the current year's growth before resting.
Section III., those that flower from last year's growth after resting.
All these are many, but C.l. vera stands alone.
Cattleya labiata.
Reduced to One Sixth
We have no need to dwell upon the contest that arose at the introduction
of Cattleya Mossiæ in 1840, which grew more and more bitter as others
of the class came in, and has not yet ceased. It is enough to say that
Lindley declined to recognize C. Mossiæ as a species, though he stood
almost solitary against "the trade," backed by a host of enthusiastic
amateurs. The great botanist declared that he could see nothing in the
beautiful new Cattleya to distinguish it as a species from the one
already named, C. labiata, except that most variable of
characteristics, colour. Modes of growth and times of flowering do not
concern science. The structure of the plants is identical, and to admit
C. Mossiæ as a sub-species of the same was the utmost concession
Lindley would make. This was in 1840. Fifteen years later came C.
Warscewiczi, now called gigas; then, next year, C. Trianæ; C.
Dowiana in 1866; C. Mendellii in 1870—all labiatas, strictly
speaking. At each arrival the controversy was renewed; it is not over
yet. But Sir Joseph Hooker succeeded Lindley and Reichenbach succeeded
Hooker as the supreme authority, and each of them stood firm. There
are, of course, many Cattleyas recognized as species, but Lindley's rule
has been maintained. We may return to the lost orchid.
As time went on, and the merits of C. labiata vera were understood,
the few specimens extant—proceeding from Mr. Swainson's
importation—fetched larger and larger prices. Those merits, indeed,
were conspicuous. Besides the season of flowering, this proved to be the
strongest and most easily grown of Cattleyas. Its normal type was at
least as charming as any, and it showed an extraordinary readiness to
vary. Few, as has been said, were the plants in cultivation, but they
gave three distinct varieties. Van Houtte shows us two in his admirable
Flore des Serres; C.l. candida, from Syon House, pure white excepting
the ochrous throat—which is invariable—and C.l. picta, deep red,
from the collection of J.J. Blandy, Esq., Reading. The third was C.l.
Pescatorei, white, with a deep red blotch upon the lip, formerly owned
by Messrs. Rouget-Chauvier, of Paris, now by the Duc de Massa.
Under such circumstances the dealers began to stir in earnest. From the
first, indeed, the more enterprising had made efforts to import a plant
which, as they supposed, must be a common weed at Rio, since men used
it to "pack" boxes. But that this was an error they soon perceived.
Taking the town as a centre, collectors pushed out on all sides.
Probably there is not one of the large dealers, in England or the
Continent, dead or living, who has not spent money—a large sum, too—in
searching for C. l. vera. Probably, also, not one has lost by the
speculation, though never a sign nor a hint, scarcely a rumour, of the
thing sought rewarded them. For all secured new orchids, new
bulbs—Eucharis in especial—Dipladenias, Bromeliaceæ, Calladiums,
Marantas, Aristolochias, and what not. In this manner the lost orchid
has done immense service to botany and to mankind. One may say that the
hunt lasted seventy years, and led collectors to strike a path through
almost every province of Brazil—almost, for there are still vast
regions unexplored. A man might start, for example, at Para, and travel
to Bogota, two thousand miles or so, with a stretch of six hundred miles
on either hand which is untouched. It may well be asked what Mr.
Swainson was doing, if alive, while his discovery thus agitated the
world. Alive he was, in New Zealand, until the year 1855, but he offered
no assistance. It is scarcely to be doubted that he had none to give.
The orchids fell in his way by accident—possibly collected in distant
parts by some poor fellow who died at Rio. Swainson picked them up, and
used them to stow his lichens.
Not least extraordinary, however, in this extraordinary tale is the fact
that various bits of C.l. vera turned up during this time. Lord Home
has a noble specimen at Bothwell Castle, which did not come from
Swainson's consignment. His gardener told the story five years ago. "I
am quite sure," he wrote, "that my nephew told me the small bit I had
from him"—forty years before—"was off a newly-imported plant, and I
understood it had been brought by one of Messrs. Horsfall's ships." Lord
Fitzwilliam seems to have got one in the same way, from another ship.
But the most astonishing case is recent. About seven years ago two
plants made their appearance in the Zoological Gardens at Regent's
Park—in the conservatory behind Mr. Bartlett's house. How they got
there is an eternal mystery. Mr. Bartlett sold them for a large sum; but
an equal sum offered him for any scrap of information showing how they
came into his hands he was sorrowfully obliged to refuse—or, rather,
found himself unable to earn. They certainly arrived in company with
some monkeys; but when, from what district of South America, the closest
search of his papers failed to show. In 1885, Dr. Regel, Director of
the Imperial Gardens at St. Petersburg, received a few plants. It may be
worth while to name those gentlemen who recently possessed examples of
C.l. vera, so far as our knowledge goes. They were Sir Trevor
Lawrence, Lord Rothschild, Duke of Marlborough, Lord Home, Messrs. J.
Chamberlain, T. Statten, J.J. Blandy, and G. Hardy, in England; in
America, Mr. F.L. Ames, two, and Mr. H.H. Hunnewell; in France, Comte de
Germiny, Duc de Massa, Baron Alphonse and Baron Adolf de Rothschild, M.
Treyeran of Bordeaux. There were two, as is believed, in Italy.
And now the horticultural papers inform us that the lost orchid is
found, by Mr. Sander of St. Albans. Assuredly he deserves his luck—if
the result of twenty years' labour should be so described. It was about
1870, we believe, that Mr. Sander sent out Arnold, who passed five years
in exploring Venezuela. He had made up his mind that the treasure must
not be looked for in Brazil. Turning next to Colombia, in successive
years, Chesterton, Bartholomeus, Kerbach, and the brothers Klaboch
overran that country. Returning to Brazil, his collectors, Oversluys,
Smith, Bestwood, went over every foot of the ground which Swainson
seems, by his books, to have traversed. At the same time Clarke followed
Gardner's track through the Pedro Bonita and Topsail Mountains. Then
Osmers traced the whole coast-line of the Brazils from north to south,
employing five years in the work. Finally, Digance undertook the search,
and died this year. To these men we owe grand discoveries beyond
counting. To name but the grandest, Arnold found Cattleya
Percevaliana; from Colombia were brought Odont. vex. rubellum,
Bollea cœlestis, Pescatorea Klabochorum; Smith sent Cattleya
O'Brieniana; Clarke the dwarf Cattleyas, pumila and præstans;
Lawrenceson Cattleya Schroederæ; Chesterton Cattleya Sanderiana;
Digance Cattleya Diganceana, which received a Botanical certificate
from the Royal Horticultural Society on September 8th, 1890. But they
heard not a whisper of the lost orchid.
In 1889 a collector employed by M. Moreau, of Paris, to explore Central
and North Brazil in search of insects, sent home fifty plants—for M.
Moreau is an enthusiast in orchidology also. He had no object in keeping
the secret of its habitat, and when Mr. Sander, chancing to call,
recognized the treasure so long lost, he gave every assistance.
Meanwhile, the International Horticultural Society of Brussels had
secured a quantity, but they regarded it as new, and gave it the name of
Catt. Warocqueana; in which error they persisted until Messrs. Sander
flooded the market.
|
