The Strange Orchid - H G Wells 2

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Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
The Strange Orchid by H. G. Wells. The buying of
orchids always has in it a certain speculative flavor. You
have before you the brown shriveled lump of tissue, And
for the rest you must trust your judgment, or the auctioneer,
or your good luck. As your taste may incline. The
plant may be morebundered dead, or it may be just

(00:23):
a respectable purchase, fair value for your money, or perhaps
for the thing has happened again and again. There slowly
unfolds before the delighted eyes of the happy purchaser, day
after day, some new variety, some novel richness, a strange
twist of the labellum, or some subtler coloration, or unexpected mimicry. Pride, beauty,

(00:46):
and profit blossom together on one delicate green spike. And
it may be even immortality. For the new miracle of
nature may stand in need of a new specific name,
and what so convenient as that of its discos John Smithia.
There have been worst names. It was perhaps the hope

(01:08):
of some such happy discovery that made Winter Wedderburn such
a frequent attendant at these sales. That hope, and also
may be the fact that he had nothing else of
the slightest interest to do in the world. He was
a shy, lonely, rather ineffectual man, provided with just enough
income to keep off the spur of necessity, and not

(01:31):
enough nervous energy to make him seek any exacting employments.
He might have collected stamps or coins, or translated horus
or bound books, or invented new species of diatoms, but
as it happened, he grew orchids and had one ambitious
little hothouse. I have a fancy, he said over his coffee,

(01:55):
that something is going to happen to me to day
he spoke as he moved in thought slowly. Oh, don't
say that, said his housekeeper, who was also his remote cousin.
For something happening was a euphemism that meant only one thing.
To her. You misunderstand me. I mean nothing unpleasant, though

(02:19):
what I do mean I scarcely know. To day, he continued,
after a pause, Peters is going to sell a bunch
of plants from the Andamans and the Indies. I shall
go up and see what they have. It may be
I shall buy something good unawares. That may be it.

(02:41):
He passed his cup for his second cupful of coffee.
Are these the things collected by that poor young fellow
you told me of the other day, asked his cousin,
as she filled his cup. Yes, he said, and became
meditative over a piece of toast. Nothing ever, does happened
to me, he remarked, presently, beginning to think aloud. I

(03:04):
wonder why things enough happen to other people. There is
Harvey only the other week on Monday he picked up sixpence.
On Wednesday, his chicks all had the staggers. On Friday,
his cousin came home from Australia, and on Saturday he
broke his ankle. What a whirl of excitement compared to me.

(03:31):
I think I would rather be without so much excitement,
said his housekeeper. It can't be good for you. I
suppose it's troublesome. Still, you see, nothing ever happens to me.
When I was a little boy. I never had accidents.
I never fell in love as I grew up, never married.

(03:53):
I wonder how it feels to have something happened to you,
something really remarkable. That orchid collector was only thirty six,
twenty years younger than myself when he died, and he
had been married twice and divorced once. He had had
malarial fever four times, and once he broke his thigh.

(04:17):
He killed a melee once, and once he was wounded
by a poisoned dart, and in the end he was
killed by jungle leeches. It must have all been very troublesome,
But then it must have been very interesting, you know,
except perhaps the leeches. I am sure it was not

(04:37):
good for him, said the lady with conviction. Perhaps not.
And then Wedderburn looked at his watch. Twenty three minutes
past eight. I am going up by the quarter to
twelve train, so that there is plenty of time. I
think I shall wear my alpaca jacket it is quite
warm enough, and my gray felt hat and brown shoes.

(05:02):
I suppose. He glanced out of the window at the
serene sky and sunlit garden, and then nervously at his
cousin's face. I think you had better take an umbrella
if you're going to London, she said, in a voice
that admitted of no denial. There's all between here and
the station coming back. When he returned, he was in
a state of mild excitement. He had made a purchase.

(05:24):
It was rare that he could make up his mind
quickly enough to buy, but this time he had done so.
There are vandas he said, and a dendrobe, and some palaeonophus.
He surveyed his purchase as lovingly as he consumed his soup.
They were laid out on the spotless tablecloth before him,

(05:45):
and he was telling his cousin all about them as
he slowly meandered through his dinner. It was his custom
to live all his visits to London over again in
the evening for her and his own entertainment. I knew
something would happen to day. I have bought all these,
some of them, some of them. I feel sure. Do

(06:05):
you know that some of them will be remarkable? I
don't know how it is, but I feel just as
sure as if someone had told me that some of
these will turn out remarkable. That one, he pointed to,
a shriveled rhizome, was not identified. It may be a palaeonophus,

(06:26):
or it may not. It may be a new species,
or even a new genus. And it was the last
that poor Baton ever collected. I don't like the look
of it, said his housekeeper, it's such an ugly shape.
To me, it scarcely seems to have a shape. I
don't like those things that stick out, said his housekeeper.

(06:49):
It shall all be put away in a pot tomorrow.
It looks, said the housekeeper, like a spider shamming dead.
Wedderburn smiled and surveyed the root with his head on
one side. It is certainly not a pretty lump of stuff,
but you can never judge of these things from their
dry appearance. It may turn out to be a very

(07:09):
beautiful orchid. Indeed, how busy I shall be tomorrow. I
must see tonight just exactly what to do with these things,
and tomorrow I shall set to work. They found poor
Baton lying dead or dying in a mangrove swamp I
forget which he began again presently, with one of these

(07:30):
very orchids crushed up under his body. He had been
unwell for some days, with some kind of native fever,
and I suppose he fainted. These mangrove swamps are very unwholesome.
Every drop of blood they say, was taken out of
him by the jungle leeches. It may be that very
plant that cost his life to obtain. I think none

(07:54):
the better of it. For that men must work, though
women may weep, said Wederbler, with profound gravity. Fancy dying
away from every comfort in a nasty swamp, fancy being
ill of fever with nothing to take but chlorodyne and quinine.
If men were left to themselves, they would live on
chlorodine and quinine. No one around you but horrible natives,

(08:17):
they say. The Andaman Islanders are most disgusting wretches. And
anyway they can scarcely make good nurses, not having the
necessary training. And just for people in England to have orchids.
I don't suppose it was comfortable, but some men seemed
to enjoy that kind of thing, said Wedderburn. Anyhow, the

(08:39):
natives of his party were sufficiently civilized to take care
of all his collection until his colleague, who was an ornithologist,
came back again from the interior, though they could not
tell the species of the orchid and had led it wither.
And it makes these things more interesting, It makes them discuss.

(09:00):
I should be afraid of some of the malaria clinging
to them, And just think there's been a dead body
lying across that ugly thing. I never thought of that
before there, I declare, I cannot eat another mouthful of dinner.
I will take them off the table, if you like,
and put them in the window seat. I can see
them just as well there. The next few days he

(09:22):
was indeed singularly busy in the steamy little hot house,
fussing about with charcoal, lumps of teak, moss, and all
the other mysteries of the orchid cultivator. He considered he
was having a wonderfully eventful time. In the evening, he
would talk about these new orchids to his friends, and
over and over again he reverted to his expectation of

(09:42):
something strange. Several of the vandas and the dendrobium died
under his care, but presently the strange orchid began to
show signs of life. He was delighted and took his
housekeeper right away from jam making to see it at once.
Directly he made the discovery. That is a bud, he said,

(10:04):
And presently there will be a lot of leaves there.
And those little things coming out here are aerial rootlets.
They look to me like little white fingers poking out
of the brown. I don't like them, said his housekeeper.
Why not, I don't know. They look like fingers trying
to get at you. I can't help my likes and dislikes.

(10:29):
I don't know for certain, but I don't think there
are any orchids I know that have aerial rootlets quite
like that. It may be my fancy, of course, you see,
they are a little flattened at the ends. I don't
like em, said his housekeeper, suddenly shivering and turning away.
I know it's very silly of me, and I'm I'm

(10:49):
very sorry, particularly as you like the thing so much.
But I can't help thinking of that corpse. But it
may not be that particular plant that was merely a
guess of mine. His housekeeper shrugged her shoulders. Anyhow, I
don't like it, she said. Wedderburn felt a little hurt

(11:10):
at her dislike to the plant, but that did not
prevent his talking to her about orchids generally, and this
orchid in particular, whenever he felt inclined. There are such
queer things about orchids, he said, one day, such possibilities
of surprise, you know. Darwin studied their fertilization and showed

(11:31):
that the whole structure of an ordinary orchid flower was
contrived in order that moths might carry the pollen from
plant to plant. Well, it seems that there are lots
of orchids known, the flower of which cannot possibly be
used for fertilization in that way. Some of the cyprepediums,
for instance, there are no insects known that can possibly

(11:55):
fertilize them, and some of them have never been found
with seed. But how do they form new plants? By
runners and tubes? And that kind of outgrowth that is
easily explained. The puzzle is what are the flowers floor?
Very likely, he added, my orchid may be something extraordinary

(12:18):
in that way. If so, I shall study it. I
have often thought of making researches, as Darwin did, but
hitherto I have not found the time, or something else
has happened to prevent it. The leaves are beginning to
unfold now. I do wish you would come and see them.
But she said that the orchid house was so hot

(12:40):
it gave her the headache. She had seen the plant
once again, and the aerial rootlets, which were now some
of them more than a foot long, had unfortunately reminded
her of tentacles reaching out after something, and they got
into her dreams growing after her with incredible rapidity, so
that she had settled, to her entire satisfaction that she
would not see that plant again. And Wedderburn had to

(13:01):
admire its leaves alone. They were of the ordinary broad form,
and a deep glossy green, with splashes and dots of
deep red toward the base. He knew of no other
leaves quite like them. The plant was placed on a
low bench near the thermometer, and close by was a
simple arrangement by which a tap dripped on the hot

(13:23):
water pipes and kept the air steamy. And he spent
his afternoons, now with some regularity, meditating on the approaching
flowering of this strange plant. And at last the great
thing happened. Directly he entered the little glass house, he
knew that the spike had burst out. Although his great

(13:44):
Palaeonophus Lowi had the corner where his new darling stood.
There was a new odor in the air, a rich,
intensely sweet scent that overpowered every other in that crowded,
steaming little greenhouse. Directly he noticed. He hurried down to
the strange orchid, and behold the trailing green spikes bore.

(14:06):
Now three great splashes of blossom, from which this overpowering
sweetness proceeded. He stopped before them in an ecstasy of admiration.
The flowers were white, with streaks of golden orange upon
the petals. The heavy labellum was coiled into an intricate projection,
and the wonderful bluish purple mingled there with the gold.

(14:29):
He could see at once that the genus was altogether
a new one, and the insufferable scent, how hot the
place was. The blossoms swam before his eyes. He would
see if the temperature was right. He made a step
toward the thermometer. Suddenly everything appeared unsteady. The bricks on

(14:51):
the floor were dancing up and down, then the white blossoms,
the green leaves behind them. The whole green house seemed
to sweep sigh ways, and then in a curve upward.
At half past four, his cousin made the tea according
to their invariable custom, but Wedderburn did not come in

(15:14):
for his tea. He is worshiping that horrid orchid, she
told herself, and waited ten minutes. His watch must have stopped.
I'll go and call him. She went straight to the hothouse,
and opening the door, called his name. There was no reply.
She noticed that the air was very close and loaded

(15:38):
with an intense perfume. Then she saw something lying on
the bricks between the hot water pipes. For a minute,
perhaps she stood motionless. He was lying face upward at
the foot of the strange orchid. The tentacle like aerial

(15:58):
rootlets no longer sweat made freely in the air, but
were crowded together a tangle of gray ropes, and stretched tight,
with their ends closely applied to his chin and neck
and hands. She did not understand. Then she saw from
under one of the exultant tentacles upon his cheek, there

(16:21):
trickled a little thread of blood. With an inarticulate cry,
She ran towards him and tried to pull him away
from the leech like suckers. She snapped two of these tentacles,
and their sap dripped red. Then the overpowering scent of
the blossom began to make her head reel. How they

(16:43):
clung to him. She tore at the tough ropes, and
he and the white inflorescence swam around her. She felt
she was fainting, knew she must not. She left him
and hastily opened the nearest door, And after she had
panted for a moment in the fresh air, she had
a brilliant inspiration. She caught up a flower pot and

(17:07):
smashed in the windows at the end of the greenhouse.
Then she re entered. She tugged, now with renewed strength,
at Wedderburn's motionless body, and brought the strange orchid crashing
to the floor. It still clung with the grimmest tenacity
to its victim. In a frenzy, she lugged it and
him into the open air. Then she thought of tearing

(17:32):
through the sucker rootlets one by one, and in another
minute she had released him and was dragging him away
from the horror. He was white and bleeding from a
dozen circular patches. The odd job man was coming up
the garden, amazed at the smashing of glass, and saw
her emerge hauling the inanimate body with red stained hands.

(17:55):
For a moment he thought impossible things. Brings some water,
She cried, and her voice dispelled his fancies. When with
unnatural alacrity he returned with the water. He found her
weeping with excitement, and with Wedderburn's head upon her knee,
wiping the blood from his face. What's the matter, said Wedderburn,

(18:17):
opening his eyes feebly and closing them again. At once,
go and tell Annie to come out here to me,
and then go for doctor hadn't at once, she said
to the odd job man, so soon as he had
brought the water, and added, seeing he hesitated, I will
tell you all about it when you come back. Presently,

(18:38):
Wedderburn opened his eyes again, and, seeing that he was
troubled by the puzzle of his position, she explained to him,
you fainted in the hot house and the orchid. I
will see to that, She said. Wedderburn had lost a
good deal of blood, but beyond that he had suffered
no very great injury. They gave brandy mixed with some

(19:01):
pink extract of meat, and carried him upstairs to bed.
His housekeeper told her incredible story in fragments to doctor Hadden.
Come to the orchid house and see, she said. The
cold outer air was blowing in through the open door,
and the sickly perfume was almost dispelled. Most of the

(19:23):
torn aerial rootlets lay already withered amidst a number of
dark stains upon the bricks. The stem of the inflorescence
was broken by the fall of the plant, and the
flowers were growing limp and brown at the edges of
the petals. The doctor stooped towards it, then saw that
one of the aerial rootlets still stirred feebly and hesitated.

(19:50):
The next morning, the strange orchid still lay there, black
now and putrescent. The door banged intermittingly in the morning breeze,
and all the array of Wedderburn's orchids was shriveled and prostrate.
But Wedderburn himself was bright and garrulous upstairs. In the

(20:12):
story of his strange adventure, End of the Strange Orchid
by H. G. Wells