Sheena Patterson of Oxford Garden Design discovers a garden language

What was an amorous young girl to do in Victorian England, with the chaperone system in operation and no mobile phone available to send secret text messages to her lover?

The answer came with the publication of The Language of Flowers or rather La Langage des Fleurs. Written by Madame Charlotte de la Tour in her native French, it soon became popular in England and other floral dictionaries followed.

In a culture where the sexes could not speak freely to each other, it was quite simply left up to flowers to do the talking, in English, as opposed to the quite possibly rather sexier French. The code worked by the giving or receiving of a posy or single flower. The recipient answered ‘yes’ by touching the flower with her lips and ‘no’ by subtly pulling off a petal. To me there’s something so much more romantic and discreet about this than simply changing your relationship status on Facebook. Another way of signifying ‘no’ was to give an appropriately named snapdragon.

Many dictionaries with meanings of different flowers were published during the heyday of the floral code in the 19th century and the language of flowers became incredibly extensive, not dying out until World War II. Some popular flowers had a simple and clear cut meaning. A double rose meant love, a white lily signified purity and sweet violets denoted modesty. Tulips too were a declaration of love, but not all flowers carried messages of love, respect or kindness. Narcissi accused the recipient of conceit, hydrangeas meant boasting and foxgloves insincerity. You could be dumped by a bunch of flowers!

The language was complex and often confusing as not all dictionaries agreed over the interpretation of a particular flower. According to which book you were reading lavender could mean distrust or pleasant memories. Peony meant shyness in one dictionary and shame in another. A rose is a rose certainly didn’t apply – a sweet briar meant ‘I wound to heal’, a Musk rose, ‘capricious beauty’ and a Moss rose ‘voluptuousness.’ The chance of a mistake was great and it could have made a great comedy of errors, but unfortunately they haven’t been recorded. It does seem a golden opportunity for a historical novelist looking for a plot with a strong scent of misunderstanding.

For those of us who sometimes harp back to the past with nostalgia (and the older I get the more I seem to fit into that category) don’t assume that the language of flowers is completely dead. As a Mothers’ Day tactic, Marks and Spencer created a gigantic floral QR code made out of flowers at Westfield White City shopping centre. Visitors were asked to scan the giant code with their smartphones, which entered them into a competition to win a year’s supply of flowers for their mum or allowed them to order bouquets from their phone. So… just as the original floral code began in the Harems of the Ottoman Empire hundreds of years ago, it makes me realise the soundness of Mark Twain’s quote, “There is no such thing as a new idea. It is impossible. We simply take a lot of old ideas and put them into a sort of mental kaleidoscope.” Nowhere is this more so than in the garden.