Odoardo Beccari: Discoverer of the Titan Arum and Pioneer Botanist of Southeast Asia
This botanical history post was featured on The Daily Gardener podcast:
November 16, 1843
Dearest reader,
On this day, we celebrate the birth of a remarkable figure in botanical history—Odoardo Beccari, the intrepid Italian botanist whose legacy has forever altered our garden lore.
Orphaned early in life, young Beccari defied the odds, securing an education in his beloved Italy before journeying to England to study at the illustrious Kew Gardens.
What tales surely stirred in those hallowed halls, mingling with fellow botanical giants Hooker and Darwin, and crowned by an adventurous friendship with James Brooke that carried him deep into the wilds of Borneo for three spirited years.
But it was not merely travel that defined Beccari; it was discovery, the crown jewel of which emerged in a cloud of mystery and a symphony of scents in 1878.
On a brief journey to central Sumatra, he discovered the botanical wonder known as Amorphophallus titanum, also known as the Titan arum, the largest flower in the world, destined to captivate imaginations worldwide.
During his lifetime, Beccari traveled all over India, Malaysia, and New Zealand. However, it was on a small voyage he took to central Sumatra (in Indonesia) in 1878 that Beccari discovered the plant with which he will forever be associated: the Amorphophallus titanum, also known as the Titan arum, the largest flower in the world.
The Titan arum’s debut bloom at Kew in 1885 was nothing short of a sensation, drawing crowds audacious enough to snap selfies with its gargantuan presence.
Yet beneath this floral marvel lurks a scent that turns noses and compels intrigue—it is, after all, the infamous “corpse flower,” so named for its evocative odor reminiscent of rotting flesh.
Intriguingly, scent scientists have uncovered the makeup of this foul bouquet. The odor includes aspects of cheese sweat, rotting fish, decomposing meat, and garlic, among even worse unmentionable compounds. This noxious aroma serves a noble purpose, attracting beetles and other insects to ferry pollen between blooms, ensuring the plant's continued legacy.
One might wonder at the patience of such a marvel; the corpse flower takes a full decade to prepare for its brief, 24 to 36-hour bloom before collapsing.
Fewer than fifty blooms were recorded between that historic Kew spectacle and the year 2000. However, in a curious and rare cluster in 2016, dozens of corpse flowers erupted into bloom across the globe within mere weeks.
Horticulturists remain baffled, pondering nature’s caprice—what orchestrated this floral symphony?
Could there be a secret melody in the earth’s whispers yet unheard by science?
And so, dear reader, as you tend your borders and nurture your earthly treasures, might you pause to reflect on Beccari’s legacy?
How often do we consider that such monstrosities of nature hold profound beauty and purpose?
Could the fleeting bloom of the Titan arum remind us that some marvels are worth a decade's anticipation and the courage to bridle the unpleasant for the sake of wonder?
In the words of an anonymous poet, perhaps pondering the fate of another ephemeral blossom:
No bird will linger at
This larkspur cup.
This grace the butterfly
Has left behind.
Summer went away
And gave it up
Yet it is bravely blue
Swinging there alone
As if to challenge you!
