GLADIOLUS CARDINALIS. SUPERB CORN FLAG. 
Class III. TRIANDRIA. Order I. MONOGYNIA. 
Natural Order, IRIDEiE. THE CORN-FLAG TRIBE. 
Section showing the position of the stamens and pistil. 
Gladiolus, mentioned by Pliny; supposed to have derived this name from gladius, a sword, alluding to 
the shape of the leaf. Root solid, round, covered with a brown membrane. Stem round, about two feet in 
height; leaves embracing the stem at bottom; flowers on the extremity of the stem on one side of it, in 
great numbers, of a fine scarlet, with a large white spot on each of the three upper segments of the petal : 
spathe green, enveloping the flower before it opens, and remaining after the flower has withered. 
The beauties of this species cannot be surpassed by any in the genus ; and from the root being hardy, it 
is rendered still more desirable. This, as well as many other bulbous roots, natives of the Cape of Good 
Hope, have been proved to endure the winter of this country, and thrive extremely well, by the treatment 
adopted by the Hon. and Rev. Wm. Herbert at SpofForth. The method of preserving the roots is to plant 
them in a dry south border of light open and sandy earth, and in the winter to protect them with a covering of 
leaves. They should be planted early in the spring, that the bulbs may mature themselves in the spot where 
they are to pass the winter : it is very essential that the roots be well ripened. With these precautions 
there is little fear of their succeeding. Where the roots are well established, they will produce stems from 
two to three feet in height with a profusion of flowers, which, from the opposition of scarlet and white, 
become truly interesting, and vie in splendour with any of the bulbous tribe. 
“ The passing Indian turns the admiring eye, 
Smit by the glories other crimson dye.” 
This plant is readily increased by the roots, the separating of which should be done early in the spring ; 
and it is better that the roots should remain in the border during the winter, provided it be tolerably dry, 
rather than be taken up. It was introduced from the Cape of Good Hope in 1790. 
* It has been a favourite theme to the imagination, to fancy, or to sing, that Herbs and Flowers and Trees 
could sympathise with human sorrow. Thus Moschus, in his Greek Hexameter epitaph on Bion, indulges 
the supposition of the possible sensibility of vegetable nature : — 
' Mourn with me, ye plants ! woods ! now bewail ! 
Sigh O flowers ! from your sorrowing stems, 
Blush mournfully, ye Roses ! Anemone ! 
Hyacinth ! now speak in your symbol letters, 
And by your floral leaves more than common 
Express your tokens of grief. The beautiful singer is dead ! ’ 
So he apostrophises his lost friend : — 
- - - ‘ At your dissolution, 
The trees threw down their fruits, and 
Every flower faded. ’ 
This seems extravagant : tho Milton has partly imitated it in his Lycidas. But it may have been a be- 
lief of the Greek poets, since one of their few natural philosophers, also a versifier, Empedocles, could say, 
‘The first of all animals were trees ; and sprang from the Earth before the Sun enriched the World, and be- 
fore days and nights were distinguished/ Plut. Plac. c. 26. — If Plato and Empedocles could teach ‘That plants 
are informed with a soul, and that of this there is a clear proof, for they tremble and shake : and when their 
branches are bent down by the woodman, they yield but to spring back again to their former uprightness, 
(Plut. ib.) we may believe that poets allowed them some sympathizing feelings. 
Nor is this to be deemed a mere artificial affectation of singularity ; for our own days have presented a 
living instance of such a sensibility, in one, whose feelings were those of pure nature, cherished in private, 
and very reluctantly disclosed. It is in Mrs. Bray’s account of the Cottage poetess, Mary Collings, a humble 
waiting-maid, that we have this curious instance of the effects of Flowers on the human sensitivities. When 
asked by her kind encourager how she came to write her Fables, Mary hesitated, blushed, and at last avowed 
the fact. ‘She would tell me the truth, tho she was afraid to speak of it, lest I should think her mazed. 
Her master had given her a slip of garden, to amuse herself with cultivating it. At length all the flower 
garden came under her care. When, of an evening, she was among the flower-beds, and saw them all so 
lively and so beautiful, she used to fancy that the flowers talked to her.’ Fables, &c. by M. Collings. The 
* Turner’s Sacred History. 
