When it comes to communicating sentiment, flowers are a time-tested messenger of the heart.
From ancient Egypt and Greece to the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, on through the Victorian era to our own, botanical symbolism has been used to express emotions when words fell short.
But ascribing specific vocabulary to specific flowers and plants grew out of a confluence of Western ideas about Oriental courtship, genteel lady’s flower books and the popularity of gardening in the late 18th and early 19th centuries.
“The language of flowers began in Napoleonic France,” says Beverly Seaton, associate professor emeritus at Ohio State University at Newark and author of The Language of Flowers: A History.
Flowers with meaning
Dahlia: Forever thine
Heliotrope: Devotion
Hibiscus: Am I forgotten?
Hyacinth: Jealousy
Dogwood: I am perfectly indifferent to you
Jonquil: I desire a return of affection
Orange blossom: Your purity equals your loveliness
Yellow and purple pansy: Forget me not
Peach blossom: I am your captive
Tuberose: The farther away, the dearer
Red tulip: Declaration of love
Source: Elizabeth Gamble Wirt’s Flora’s Dictionary and Beverly Seaton’s The Language of
Flowers: A History
“Most of the books were written by women as the language of love meant to be spoken by a man to a woman as she would want him to speak to her, mostly romantic stuff that men don’t say that often.”
The most influential was Charlotte de Latour’s Le language des fleurs, published in 1819. It included such vivid sentiments as “I declare war against you” (belvedere) and “your qualities surpass your charms” (mignonette).
In America, it was Elizabeth Gamble Wirt’s Flora’s Dictionary, published in 1829, that became the go-to floral guide. Her interpretations include “I esteem, but do not love you” (spiderwort), “I am dazzled by your charms” (Persian buttercup) and “your hand for the next quadrille” (ivy geranium).
But it should be noted that there is no universal meaning for every plant and flower, as definitions vary from culture to culture and book to book. For example, Latour assigned to the garden acacia the meaning “platonic love” while to another popular writer, B. Delachenaye, it meant “mystery.”
Seaton also plays down the idea that a kind of grammar exists in the language of flowers that can be used to construct a bouquet of meanings from different plants.
“You can’t really do it very well,” says Seaton. “There’s really no syntax and besides, traditionally, not all of the flowers you needed would be available at the same time. They weren’t flying them in from South America back then.”
So this Valentine’s Day whether you’re trying to say it with honeysuckle (”I would not answer hastily”), peach blossoms (”I am your captive”) or goldenrod (”encouragement”) remember this: Don’t despair if you become tongue-tied when trying to speak the language of flowers.
After all, it’s the thought that counts.
