The Chameleon of the Plant World?
Long ago the plant they now call the dahlia had an insignificant open centred, single flower, which hung over on a pendulous stem. I think it was probably uses by the Mayan’s, Inca’s, and Aztec’s, for decoration and the healing properties of its tuberous root. These three Native Central American Indians made vast Empires from the late tenth century onwards, somewhere in the region that is now called Mexico. However when the Spanish turned up, with there superior fighting force, it wasn’t long before the Inca gold and the Aztec silver started being shipped back to the mother land, to prop up Spain’s supremacy in Europe.
But gold and silver was not all that the Spaniards took back. After the fighting stopped, and Spain gradually colonized South and Central America, all kinds of things were being sent back home, and by the late eighteenth century, this included tuberous roots and seed of a strange plant that grew on the high plains of Mexico. Botanically it was a member of the Sunflower family, from the order of Compositae. The Aztec’s used to call them `Acocotli‘ or `Cocoxochitl’ meaning hollow pipes or water tubes, because the plants had hollow stems. Aztec inscriptions also linked the single flowers, religiously, to the sun which they worshiped, the petals reminding them of the suns rays.
An Abbot called Abbe Cavanilles, who had a Swedish assistant called Dr. Anders Dahl, ran the Botanical Gardens of Madrid in 1789. Anders, not a robust man, worked hard propagating seedlings and cuttings of the yet unnamed plants, that had been sent back from Mexico, so it come as a surprise, when later that year the Abbot called the new genus Dahlia, after his Swedish assistant, probably thinking the plant wouldn’t amount to much, but of course the opposite happened and the newly named plant took off. At first there were three species `Dahlia pinnata’, `Dahlia rosea’, and Dahlia cochinea, but very soon the hybridist of the day found the dahlia was a chameleon of the plant world, and could change its form, colour and size at the drop of a Mexican’s hat. Very soon the single flower had transcended into a one of many petals, which were admired by the gentry of Europe. So popular had this plant become that an eminent German Professor in Berlin called Wildenow attempted to call the plant `georgina’ in honour of his friend Professor Georgi who was a famous Russian hybridist, who had also worked with this immigrant from Central America. This name stuck in Russia until the nineteen thirties, and even today, in parts of what was the old Soviet Union, the dahlia is still called Georgina.
It was in Europe, during the early eighteen hundreds, that the Chameleon process begun in earnest, and soon the craze reached the United Kingdom. The most popular form was similar to the ball types we have today. At first they were called `globe’ dahlias, and then `double show and fancy’ dahlias. In the main the show dahlias were self colours, and the fancy were just that, with two or three colours, either spotted, striped or with a Pico tee’ edge to each petal. In 1829, the first Anemone flowered dahlia was developed, followed by the Collerette in France, and in 1850 the first ponpom appeared in Germany, and was named after the bobble on a French Sailor's hat. By now the rich and famous of Britain were scanning nursery catalogues for new and exciting seedlings, it’s a pity, but, as far as I know, the names of these pioneer dahlias are lost, but you can bet the prefixes at the time would have been, Lord this, or Lady that. At that time, most varieties cost around a guinea, but some changed hands, for as much as one hundred. This in those days was equivalent to what a labourer could expect to earn, for a whole year. In comparison, nothing has changed.
In 1888 on Christmas Eve a body was formed called The National Dahlia Society; its function was to promote the popularity of this incredible flower. Trials were formed, exhibitions, lectures and talks were organized, much the same as they organized them today. We have now, a range of dahlias that offer flowers to suit us all, they come in every form, size and colour except blue. Although through the years hybridists have tried everything to obtain this elusive colour, the nearest they achieved was purple, mauve and lavender, some thought the public would be satisfied if they added blue to the title name, Bonnie Blue, Blue Beard and Blue Wish spring to mind. So desperate were they to find this colour, a London newspaper put up £1,000 for the first person to produce a true blue dahlia, the prize was never won. Are we any nearer getting the elusive blue? I have heard a leading Dutch hybridists, thinks it’s possible. With what’s happening in the world today, I wouldn’t be surprised.
Now … pollen from the blue delphinium … a pure white dahlia … fused with cobalt blue radiation … Mmm!
From its humble beginnings in the foothills of Mexico, this simple flower has become one of the leading hobbyist’s plants of the past two hundred years. The Dutch alone have been responsible for major developments to the modern dahlia. They were responsible, for instance, in producing the first cactus flowered dahlias. One of which was called Juarezii after the Mexican President of the time.
By the beginning of the twentieth century many more forms had been developed, like the peony flowered, the anemone flowered, the chrysanthemum flowered and the orchid flowered. Decorative and ball shaped flowers were also produced and with them, there shallower cousin, the water lily flowered. It is this never ending evolution of form, size and colour, that has made the dahlia of today, and believe me, to have a hand in breeding this wonderful plant, can be fascinating, although frustrating at times. Some hybridists have turned the species full circle, and in their quest to obtain a scented bloom, they’ve gone back in time, to the original single flower. But unlike those first flowers they have a totally different form, because the petals fold inwards, to meet and touch in the centre of each petal, proving that the dahlia still holds secrets, and continue, as always to have something hidden up its sleeve.
What next? Hardier forms, creeping forms, genetically modified forms? I hope not, I like the dahlia as it is, if we want to change it, let’s strive for better form, stems, tubers and colour on the types that we have. After all, that’s still progress, but then we can’t stand still either, can we? I expect development will occur in the fascinating world of the dahlia, while mankind feels fit to experiment. See you at the trials.