five guineas; Dendrobium formosum, fifteen guineas;
Aerides maculosum, crispum and odoratum
20l., 21l., and 16l., respectively. No one who
understands orchids will believe that the specimens
which brought such monstrous prices were superior in
any respect to those we now receive, and he will be
absolutely sure that they were landed in much worse
condition. But the average cost of the most expensive
at the present day might be 30s., and only a large
piece would fetch that sum. It is astonishing
to me that so few people grow orchids. Every
modern book on gardening tells how five hundred varieties
at least, the freest to flower and assuredly as beautiful
as any, may be cultivated without heat for seven or
eight months of the year. It is those “legends,”
I have spoken of which deter the public from entertaining
the notion. An afternoon at an orchid sale would
dispel them.
ORCHIDS.
There is no room to deal with this great subject historically,
scientifically, or even practically, in the space of
a chapter. I am an enthusiast, and I hold some
strong views, but this is not the place to urge them.
It is my purpose to ramble on, following thoughts as
they arise, yet with a definite aim. The skilled
reader will find nothing to criticize, I hope, and
the indifferent, something to amuse.
Those amiable theorists who believe that the resources
of Nature, if they be rightly searched, are able to
supply every wholesome want the fancy of man conceives,
have a striking instance in the case of orchids.
At the beginning of this century, the science of floriculture,
so far as it went, was at least as advanced as now.
Under many disadvantages which we escape—the
hot-air flue especially, and imperfect means of ventilation—our
fore-fathers grew the plants known to them quite as
well as we do. Many tricks have been discovered
since, but for lasting success assuredly our systems
are no improvement. Men interested in such matters
began to long for fresh fields, and they knew where
to look. Linnaeus had told them something of
exotic orchids in 1763, though his knowledge was gained
through dried specimens and drawings. One bulb,
indeed—we spare the name—showed
life on arrival, had been planted, and had flowered
thirty years before, as Mr.
Castle shows. Thus
horticulturists became aware, just when the information
was most welcome, that a large family of plants unknown
awaited their attention; plants quite new, of strangest
form, of mysterious habits, and beauty incomparable.
Their notions were vague as yet, but the fascination
of the subject grew from year to year. Whilst
several hundred species were described in books, the
number in cultivation, including all those gathered
by Sir Joseph Banks, and our native kinds, was only
fifty. Kew boasted no more than one hundred and
eighteen in 1813; amateurs still watched in timid
and breathless hope.
