I recently had a fascinating conversation with Sarah Bilston about her book on Victorian orchidomania – and what a story it turned out to be. It all started with a single orchid that mysteriously arrived in Halesworth, Suffolk in 1818. Nobody knew how it got there, but when it bloomed, it sparked an obsession that would last decades.
This flower became known as “The Lost Orchid” when it disappeared from cultivation, leading to a 75-year hunt to find it again. The tales of its eventual rediscovery read like a Victorian novel, including plot devices such as a lady’s corsage at a ball, and a painting at the World’s Fair. Sarah Bilston’s literary background helped her unpick these romantic tales and sift the truth from the carefully crafted stories designed to generate intrigue, interest and sales.
There was a striking gap between the published accounts of orchid hunting and the reality revealed in private letters. The press painted pictures of brave European plant hunters using superior knowledge to “discover” orchids through ingenuity and courage. But the letters tell a different story entirely – one of confusion, failure, and losses.
The scale of the trade was enormous. Hundreds of thousands of orchids were shipped from their native habitats, with most dying en route – freezing in auction rooms, rotting on ships, or simply poorly packed. By the 1870s and 80s, some Victorians began to worry that their beloved “lost orchid” might actually be lost forever due to deforestation and habitat destruction.
What’s uncomfortable is how familiar this feels today. Victorian consumers bought plants from suburban nurseries without thinking much about their origins, happily ignoring environmental destruction happening “somewhere else.” The conservation movement actually emerged from this period, as people began to grasp the scale of what had been done.
Sarah Bilston’s research reveals both the fascinating complexity of this history and the uncomfortable parallels with modern consumerism. Rather than tying everything up neatly, she shows us the messiness and contradictions that make this story so compelling – and so relevant to our current relationship with the natural world.
You can listen to my full interview with Sarah Bilston here.
