AN ESSAY ON FLOWERS. 



37 



and very unequally distributed faculty — is 

 one of the earliest developed ; it explains the 

 intense gratification even of an infant at the 

 sight of a tulip ; and there is reason to be- 

 lieve that the hues of flowers are the most 

 vivid tokens of enjoyment that greet the 

 dawning mind. 



The orientals, adepts in voluptuous ease, 

 place vases of flowers around their fountains ; 

 and, as they lie upon divans, their eyes close, 

 in the refreshing siesta, with these radiant 

 sentinels for the last image to blend with their 

 dreams, and their odor to mingle with tike 

 misty spray and cheer their waking. The 

 Greek maidens dropped flowers from their 

 windows on those that passed, to indicate 

 their scorn, praise, or love. One of the 

 poetic touches which redeem the frugal lot of 

 the grisettes, is the habit they indulge of 

 keeping a box of mignonette on their window- 

 sills. You may see them at dawn bending 

 over it, to sprinkle the roots or enjoy the per- 

 fume. In Tuscany and the Neapolitan ter- 

 ritory, peasants wear gay flowers in their 

 hats ; while the more grave people of the in- 

 tervening country rarely so adorn themselves. 

 I was struck, at the wedding of an American 

 in France, to sec the servants, tearful at part- 

 ing with their mistress, decorating the inte- 

 rior of her carriage with white flowers. There 

 is something, however, very artificial in the 

 dry ivimorfels, here and there dyed black, for 

 sale at the gates of Pere la Chaise, and 

 bought by the humbler class of mourners to 

 hang on the crosses that mark the graves of 

 kindred. Our own rural cemeteries are 

 teaching a better lesson. The culture of 

 flowers on such domains, is not only in excel- 

 lent taste, but, when judiciously selected and 

 arranged, a grateful memorial. At Monaco, 

 a town in Italy, a few years since, the body 

 of a young child was covered with flowers, 

 according to the custom of the place ; and 

 when sought for the purpose of interment, it 

 was found sitting up and playing with the 

 flowers — an aff"ecting and beautiful evidence 

 of the ignorance of death chai-acteristic of that 

 spotless age. 



Fashion seldom interferes with nature with- 

 out diminishing her grace and efficiency. It 

 denudes the masculine face of the beard, its 

 distinctive feature ; substitutes for the har- 

 monious movement of the chaste and blithe- 

 some dance, the angular caprices of the polka ; 



clips and squares the picturesque in land- 

 scape into formalized proportions ; and con- 

 demns half the world to an unattractive and 

 inconvenient costume. Even flowers seem 

 profaned by its touch ; there is something 

 morbid in their breath when exhaled pro- 

 fusely in gorgeous saloons and ostentatiously 

 displayed at a heartless banquet; and wisely 

 as the florist may adjust them into bouquets, 

 they are so firmly entwined and intricately 

 massed together, as often to resemble mosaic. 

 We turn often from the most costly speci- 

 men of this appanage of the ball and opera, 

 with a feeling of relief to the single white 

 rosebud on a maiden's breast, or the light 

 jasmin wreath on her brow. The quantity 

 and showy combination of the flowers, espe- 

 cially the heated atmosphere and common- 

 place gabble of the scene, and often the Avanfc 

 of correspondence between the person who so 

 consciously hold^ the bouquet in her gloved 

 hand and the sweet nature it represents, rob 

 the flowers of their legitimate claim. In- 

 deed, like all truly beautiful things, they de- 

 mand the appropriate as a sphere. The east 

 wind, in Boston, on the last national holiday, 

 and the grave faces of the children, to say 

 nothing of the idea that approbativeness and 

 acquisitiveness were the organs mainly called 

 in play in their little overworked brahis, ut- 

 terly dispelled all genuine romance and grate- 

 ful illusion frem the floral procession. Some- 

 thing analogous in character, atmosphere, and 

 occasion, is needed to render the ministry of 

 flowers affecting and complete. 



We instinctively identify our acquaintan- 

 ces with flowers. The meek and dependent 

 are as lilies of the valley, and, like them, 

 need the broad and verdant shield of affec- 

 tionate nurture ; sycophants are parasites ; 

 exuberant and glowing beauty and feeling are 

 more like the damask rose than anything in 

 nature ; the irritable annoy us like nettles ; 

 the proud emulate the crown imperial ; the 

 graceful are lithe as vine-sprays ; the loving 

 wind around our hearts like tendrils ; and the 

 cheerful brighten the dim background of life 

 like the scarlet blossoms of the woodbine. 

 Not a flower in the cornucopia of the floral 

 goddess but hath its similitude and its votary. 

 The boy's first miracle is to press the seed- 

 vessels of the balsamine till it snaps at his 

 touch ; or shouts, as he runs from bed to the 

 garden, at the sight of the rich chalice of the 



