As authors, we know how important it is to have a good grasp of our story’s setting; topography, culture, and local accents. Writing stories with a historical setting requires even deeper research. Many social customs of the 19th Century and earlier have since been lost to history, but could be important to a story set in the mid 1800s. One of these customs was floriography; the language of flowers.
During the writing of my book Charity’s Heart, I needed
a bouquet for my heroine. I had a general knowledge that during the 1800s certain
flowers had meanings. I wanted my heroine’s bouquet to convey certain
sentiments, so I researched the subject. I soon learned that floriography was
far more extensive and complex than I’d imagined.
Recent TV ads encouraging the public to “Give flowers” for
Valentine’s Day as an expression of affection, reminded me of what I’d learned
about the Victorian custom of floriography.
Today the gift of a bouquet made from any lovely combination
of flowers would likely be welcomed and appreciated without a second thought. But in the 19th Century, such
a floral gift might well have invited closer scrutiny.
In the Victorian age, flowers, as well as a vast array of greenery,
herbs, and spices conveyed a silent, now long lost language of their own. If
you’ve ever received a dozen red roses on Valentines Day or your birthday,
you’re probably aware that flower symbolizes love. For most of us, that’s about
the extent of our modern knowledge of “flower language.” But what if the roses
were pink, yellow, or white? Or what if they weren’t roses at all, but lilies
or hyacinths? And what about those sprigs of baby’s breath tucked in among the
roses? Are they simply to accent the other flowers’ brighter colors, or are
they conveying a silent message of their own?
The Victorians would never simply throw together a
nice-looking handful of flowers. No ma’am! They had it all down to a science. They
could silently convey messages by presenting combinations of carefully chosen
blossoms. Even the way the flowers were presented could make a huge difference
in the conveyed message. The size and grouping of the flowers and whether the
posies were presented in the right or left hand, upright or upside down could
all drastically nuance your floral communication.
Consider the vast combinations possible and it’s enough to
make your head explode! It’s no wonder they had special dictionaries of
“floriography” to help keep all this stuff straight.
Even with their pocket references at the ready, it’s easy to imagine myriad miscommuniqués. Why, offer a poorly crafted tussie-mussie (small bouquet wrapped in a lace doily tied with a satin ribbon) or wave a hankie scented with the wrong floral fragrance and calamity could ensue.
Even with their pocket references at the ready, it’s easy to imagine myriad miscommuniqués. Why, offer a poorly crafted tussie-mussie (small bouquet wrapped in a lace doily tied with a satin ribbon) or wave a hankie scented with the wrong floral fragrance and calamity could ensue.
I can imagine a dapper young man of the 1850’s, tussie-mussie in hand, smilingly striding up to the
object of his affection. The young lady glimpses the posies in her suitor’s grasp and her expression
registers surprise, confusion, and anger in quick succession. “Buttercups, red geraniums, and basil?” She snatches the bouquet, flings it to the ground, and stomps on it. “So you think I’m ungracious and stupid and you hate me? Well I never!” She tromps off, leaving the hapless young man as crushed as the bouquet at his feet.
On the other hand, a young lady could scent herself with
honeysuckle or lavender and unintentionally
fan the ardor of any number of gentlemen. Seems to me, maneuvering a Victorian flower garden could be as dicey as traipsing through a mine field. Makes me glad I came of age in the Twentieth Century instead of the Nineteenth.
fan the ardor of any number of gentlemen. Seems to me, maneuvering a Victorian flower garden could be as dicey as traipsing through a mine field. Makes me glad I came of age in the Twentieth Century instead of the Nineteenth.
Though the notion of “speaking through flowers” may be a
romantic one, it’s probably for the best that the art of floriography is no longer in vogue. The courting crowd today has
enough problems with miscommunication in this age of Facebook and Twitter. One
would hate to think that their relationship was done in by a rogue geranium.
Below is a sampling of flowers and their meanings from A Victorian Flower Dictionary: The Language of Flowers Companion by
Mandy Kirkby.
~A~
acacia. . . . . secret
love
agrimony. . . . . gratitude aloe. . . . . grief
amaryllis. . . . . pride
anemone. . . . . forsaken
baby’s breath. . . . . everlasting
love
basil. . . . . hate
begonia. . . . . caution
blackberry. . . . . envy
buttercup. . . . . ingratitude
calla lily. . . . . modesty
carnations:
(red). . . . . my
heart breaks
(pink). . . . . I will
never forget you
(white). . . . . sweet
and lovely
(yellow). . . . . disdain
chrysanthemum. . . . . truth
daffodil. . . . . new
beginnings
dahlia. . . . . dignity
daisy. . . . . innocence
dogwood. . . . . love
undiminished by adversity
edelweiss. . . . .noble
courage
elder. . . . . compassion
evening primrose. . . . . inconstancy
fern (Polypodiophyta).
. . . . sincerity
feverfew. . . . . warmth
forsythia. . . . . anticipation
freesia. . . . . lasting
friendship
gardenia. . . . .refinement
geranium (scarlet). . . . . stupidity
gerber daisy. . . . . cheerfulness
gladiolus. . . . . you
pierce my heart
hawthorn. . . . . hope
heliotrope. . . . . devoted
affection
honeysuckle. . . . . devotion
hyacinth (white). . . . . beauty
hydrangea. . . . . dispassion
ice plant. . . . . your
looks freeze me
impatiens. . . . . impatience
iris. . . . . message
ivy. . . . . fidelity
jonquil. . . . . desire
larkspur. . . . . lightness
lavender. . . . . mistrust
lilac. . . . . first
emotions of love
lily of the valley. . . . . return of happiness
mistletoe. . . . . I
surmount all obstacles
morning glory. . . . . coquetry
moss rose. . . . . confession
of love
myrtle. . . . . love
narcissus. . . . . self
love
nasturtium. . . . . impetuous
love
nettle. . . . . cruelty
olive. . . . . peace
orange. . . . . generosity
orchid. . . . . refined
beauty
pansy. . . . . think
of me
peach blossom. . . . . I
am your captive
peony. . . . . anger
periwinkle. . . . .
tender recollections
pholx. . . . . our
souls are united
~Q~
Queen Anne’s lace. . . . . fantasy
Quince. . . . . temptation
~R~
redbud. . . . . betrayal
rhododendron. . . . . beware
rose
(pink). . . . . grace
(red). . . . . love
(white). . . . . heart
unacquainted with love
(yellow). . . . . infidelity
sage. . . . . good
health and long life
scabious. . . . . unfortunate
love
snapdragon. . . . .
presumption
stephanotis. . . . . happiness
in marriage
Sweet William. . . . . gallantry
tansy. . . . . I
declare war against you
thistle. . . . . misanthropy
witch hazel. . . . . spell
yarrow. . . . . cure
for a broken heart
~Z~
zinnia. . . . . I
mourn your absence
Interesting, Ramona. Like you I don't think this generation could withstand drastically nuanced floral communications. Come to think of it, I'm not either. Reminds me of a line from "The Wedding Planner" where the groom is flower shopping in his bride's absence. The flower he picks for the wedding is a traditional Tibetan funeral flower. I do know yellow roses means friendship.
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