CATTLEYA LABIATA HOUSE
This is the oldest of Cattleyas, for the plant now recognised as Catt. Loddigesii, which was introduced to Europe a few years earlier, passed under the name of Epidendrum. One might call labiata the ‘eponymous hero’ of its tribe, for Lindley christened it in honour of his friend Mr. Cattley, an enthusiastic amateur of Barnet. This was in 1818; from that year until 1889 Cattleya labiata was lost. It seemed easy enough to follow the journeyings of Swainson, who discovered it, and so reach the country where it dwelt; collectors innumerable made the attempt, but never succeeded. Mr. Sander, for instance, sent three at different times, expressly to trace Swainson’s footsteps so far as they are recorded—Oversluys, Smith, and Bestwood; beside four others who skirmished along the track. He assured himself that they had explored every district which Swainson could possibly have visited; but of Cattleya labiata they found no sign. Meanwhile the plants of the first importation died off gradually, and the richest of mortals competed for the few surviving. Ten years ago, when the long search came to an end, very few were the persons in England who owned a specimen. I think I can name most of them—Baron Schröder, Sir Trevor Lawrence, Lord Rothschild, Duke of Marlborough, Lord Home, Lord Howe, Messrs. J. Chamberlain, Statter, R. H. Measures, R. I. Measures, Blandy, Hardy, Coleman, and Smith of the Isle of Wight. One of the examples possessed by Mr. R. H. Measures belonged to the variety Pescatorei, named after General Pescatore, the same leading amateur of early days whose memory is kept green by the sweetest of Odontoglossums, saving crispum. Cattleya labiata Pescatorei was a precious treasure then; ‘none so poor as do it reverence’ in this generation. The plant is still here, pretty enough so far as it goes, slightly distinguished by a silver edging to the petals.
The puzzle of that first consignment has not been explained—we have only eluded it, like Alexander at Gordium. Certainly Swainson did not find his plants in the neighbourhood where they exist at this time. It is conjectured that there were woods close to Rio, now cultivated ground, where it flourished at the beginning of the century. However, in 1889, Cattleya labiata reappeared; oddly enough a collector of insects found it originally, and a collector of insects rediscovered it. The ‘professionals’ were beaten to the last.
And now it has become almost the commonest of orchids; but for the same reason we may be sure that it will grow scarce again in no long time. Not to England only but to France, Belgium, Germany, the United States, such vast quantities have been consigned that to one who knows something of the facts it seems amazing that the limited area could furnish so many. And for one that reaches the market three, perhaps six, die.
I have alluded to the extermination of orchids already. It is a sadly fascinating subject for those who think, and ‘out of the fulness of the heart the mouth speaketh.’ The time is very close when Odontoglossum crispum, most heavenly of created things, will arrive by tens and units instead of myriads—and then will arrive not at all. Already a gentleman who boasts that he has leased the whole district where the ‘Pacho’ form still survives, reckons the number of plants remaining at 60,000 only. Some months ago he issued quaint proposals for a Company (limited) to secure the utmost profit on the collection of these. Business men ‘smiled and put the question by,’ however enthusiastic they might be as orchidists; but I believe that the statement of facts was not altogether inaccurate. It is no longer worth while to send out collectors of Odontoglossum crispum; natives of the country gather such as they find and store them until the opportunity occurs to sell a dozen or so.
I could give other instances; some have been already mentioned. But what is the use? Unless governments interfere, there is no remedy. Some indeed have taken steps. Several years ago the Rajah of Sarawak decreed that no one should collect orchids in his territory, for sale, without a license. The exportation of Dendrobium Macarthiae from Ceylon is forbidden, and the authorities of Capetown have made stringent rules about gathering Disa grandiflora. But I have heard of no other restrictions, and these, commendable as they are, scarcely touch the mischief. But that is enough upon a melancholy subject, with which I have no need to meddle here.
In this house and elsewhere we have some eleven hundred labiatas. No Cattleya is more variable. From white to deep crimson every shade of colour may be found, with endless diversities of combination. Here are a few of the most important.
Imperatrix.—Rosy mauve. Distinguished by a broad fringe of the same colour round the lip, which, inside, shows a fine crimson. Next to it is one, unnamed, which makes a good contrast. Very big and broad; pale. The tube, opening wide, is superbly striped with crimson over a gold ground. The great lip all crimson.
Nobilis.—Big and evenly rosy. The gold in the throat is faint, and the lip, grandly frilled, has no lines.