IRIS 205 



tantly, abjectly, as something irresistible ; one never 

 dares feel tenderly towards it as towards Iris gracilipes, 

 or absorb oneself happily in its loveliness as one can sink 

 deep into the sympathies of Iris tectorum. It is the 

 difference in personality ; one might as soon dare to feel 

 tenderly towards Queen Elizabeth — proudly, gloriously, 

 adoringly — yes, but it is only for the milder, softer, 

 weaker beauties that one may feel tenderness. The 

 others claim our worship from on high, from the exalta- 

 tion of a superior sphere ; only the gentler lovelinesses 

 appeal to us on our own plane, and, in their meek appeal, 

 pay a subtle compliment to the strength of our own 

 natures. And, if it be a vain fancy to find personalities 

 in flowers, then many gardeners, I believe, staid and 

 respectable people, are guilty, in their secret hearts, of 

 vain, delightful fancies. And therefore I make no defence 

 or apology ; those who understand will sympathise ; 

 those who do not understand would never do so did I 

 explain and analyse till all the plants in all the world had 

 run to seed and made way for altered forms. To take 

 the Violas, for an instance. Always, to me, the gentle face 

 of Viola calcarata is the face of that gentle, ineffectual 

 Renata d'Este, who begf .d ended her life so much 

 more happily as Renee de Valois ; Viola biflora, quiet, 

 shy, recondite, is ' cette pauvre jeune reine Jeanne ' who 

 moved Diane de Poictiers to her one flash of emotion ; 

 as for Diane herself, respectable, prosaic, and solid, 

 where will you find her soul but in some obese Pansy 

 in a border.'' And Viola pedata, freakish, whimsical, 

 humorously sad and tender, surely this is the Margaret 

 of Margarets herself. My Lady Margaret of Angoulesme 

 and Navarre; so Iris Kaempferi, audacious, arrogant, 

 short-lived, is a memory of Queen Anne Boleyn, enshrin- 

 ing the ambition, the self-sufficiency, the violence of that 

 indomitable nature. 



