the language of flowers

History would suggest a floral gift can say a lot more than ‘thanks’ or ‘i’m sorry’.

Many moons ago, in a time long before acronyms and emojis, folks used a different type of coded language to communicate with their peers. It was called floriography, and, rather than idly hitting a few buttons to send a slapdash text out into the ether, it involved careful planning and consideration to ensure the meaning of an exchange couldn’t be misread.

The gist was this: different flowers had different meanings based on colour and arrangement, so a posy of blooms could send a covert message to a suitor, foe or friend. Would it be a bunch of sweet peas to say thanks for a lovely time, or a lone rhododendron to warn, “Beware, I’m dangerous”? Perhaps a rose, with extra attention paid to the hue: bright red meant passionate love; pink, warm affection; white represented virtue; and yellow, growing resentment.

So, where did this floral fad begin? The answer is a little hazy, though many thank a dame by the name of Lady Mary Wortley Montagu. In the early 1700s, the feminist poet was married to the English ambassador to Turkey – then known as the Ottoman Empire – and spent her days writing letters to her loved ones back home. In them, she described a game played in Turkish harems that allowed women to chat on the sly by attaching rhyming words to particular blooms. Truthfully, it wasn’t the complex language she imagined, but Mary was intrigued – and back in England, the idea of a floral code quickly caught on.

By the time the Victorian era rolled around in 1837, use of floriography was commonplace, especially among conservative upper-class Brits. Flower dictionaries began to spring up across Great Britain and Europe, assigning hidden meanings to plants, flowers and herbs – a blessing in a time when many topics of conversation were forbidden. Victorian etiquette ruled that well-to-do folk steer clear of public flirtations and ‘unsavoury’ discussion. But now, suitors could present eligible ladies with small, handheld, artfully arranged bouquets – known as ‘tussie-mussies’ or ‘nosegays’ – and express their desires (or lack thereof) without offending stuffy lords and ladies. In response, women would hold the posy at heart level, signifying happiness and acceptance, or flip it downwards in a brutal sign of rejection.

There were flaws in this secret language, though. For one, it required an ability to identify all manner of obscure flora by sight – alongside classic roses, bluebells and lilies, dictionaries included plants like mezereon (a Eurasian shrub sprouting purple flowers and poisonous red berries), cuscata (a crop parasite used in medieval medicine) and the cobaea vine (a Mexican plant native to tropical regions). As for the gifter, they needed access to the flowers and herbs in the first place – it’s unlikely they’d have a bunch of Iceland moss on hand just in case they wanted to wish someone good health. (Although wealthy types tried their very best, constructing elaborate heated greenhouses and filling them with a meadow’s worth of flora.) As the years progressed, the art of floriography continued to grow and blossom. The now not-so-secret code spread across continents, with meanings passed back and forth and local lore woven in to create divergent floral dialects. Literature and fine art featured flower symbolism, from Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre to Sir John Everett Millais’ famous painting of Ophelia surrounded by floating blooms. But then came World War I, and a shift in priorities. As food, health, safety and munitions became most people’s primary concerns, the language of flowers fell by the wayside, and – aside from some Victorian-era dictionaries floating around in libraries and antique book collections – was largely forgotten.

CARNATION //

Should you receive carnations from a mystery gifter, be sure to take note of the colour of the petals – it could tell you whether the stealthy flower bandit is an admirer or critic. While red blooms suggest ‘my heart aches for you’, yellow is said to convey disdain. Pink, on the other hand, means ‘I’ll never forget you’ – a throwback to the Bible, which tells of Mary’s sadness as she watched Jesus carry the cross away. Supposedly, as her tears fell to the ground, pink carnations sprang up in their place.

WILD TANSY //

Don’t be fooled by wild tansy’s cheery appearance. According to ye olde flower dictionaries, receiving a bunch of the sweet golden buds is a straight-up declaration of war. Perhaps the meaning came from its unpleasant medicinal properties – tansy teas were once drunk to induce a miscarriage or expel intestinal worms – or maybe Victorian ladies and gents just weren’t that fond of dainty yellow flora. Either way, offering up wild tansy is the botanical equivalent of drawing swords.

ROSE //

A rose by any other name would smell as sweet, but when it comes to colour, things aren’t so simple. The classic bloom can mean anything from ‘jealousy’ to ‘shame’ and ‘I am worthy of you’ depending on its hue (in this case, yellow, deep red and white, respectively). The state of the flower also matters: a thornless rose implies love at first sight, for instance, while a withered white rose suggests you made a pretty average first impression.

JONQUIL //

The jonquil – a variety of daffodil, also known by its botanic name, Narcissus jonquilla – has one specific meaning: your affections are returned. It’s thought to have sprung from the ancient Greek myth of Narcissus, a ravishingly beautiful dude with a massive ego to boot. When he spied his reflection in a pool of water, he fell in love and couldn’t bear to leave it behind. Over time, he wasted away and became a striking flower that always bows its head to the water at its feet.

IVY //

‘Clingy’ might not be the most flattering word to describe your spouse, but it’s the reason ivy came to represent fidelity and marriage. Just as the climbing plant latches on to a tree or structure nearby, so too do we human types attach ourselves to the one we love – at least, according to the folks who created floriography. To really drive home the symbolism, ivy also happens to be an evergreen plant, staying lush and full all year round, like any successful marriage (apparently).

POPPY //

There are many reasons why poppies have long been used as a symbol of sleep, peace and death, from the sedative nature of the opium stored within to their connection with Somnus, the Roman god of sleep. In Victorian floriography, though, the meaning evolved to one of consolation and comfort for someone experiencing great loss. This commemorative spirit is one reason the blood-red bloom is a particularly fitting tribute to fallen soldiers on Remembrance Day.

BASIL //

Word has it, the first recorded mention of basil states: “It exists only to drive men insane.” For the ancient Greeks and Romans – and later Victorian folk, thanks to their handy floral code – the herb was associated with a feeling of intense hatred. Sowing the plant required much sweating and swearing, and according to European lore, you must curse the ground in order for it to grow. (Basil belongs to Satan, you see.) Thankfully, basil is rarely gifted with flowers attached these days, so you’re unlikely to accidentally tell someone you think they’re the pits.