The Garden Magazine, August, 1923 
381 
The first to bloom are the Trumpet Majors, the Campernelle 
jonquils, and the white Polyanthus. 1 have seen them crowding 
the snows. When these begin to fade, the Sir Watkin begins 
to flower. There is a Narcissus! The color is perfect, a pale 
gold; the shape is grace itself. It is hardy and multiplies like 
an immigrant family from the Near East. It is not one of the 
giants, but under intensive cultivation responds gloriously and 
produces blooms of large size and enduring substance. As Sir 
Watkin is waving farewell Empress comes into flower. This is 
a bi-color, yellow trumpet and white petals. It is not quite 
large enough, its stems are rather short, but it does furnish 
flowers in myriads and delivers the goods. Duke of Bedford 
which blooms about the same time is superb. It, too, is a bi¬ 
color. It is expensive and does not multiply like Empress. 
Midway between the Trumpet Majors and the Sir Watkin 
come King Alfred and Tresserve. They are the giants. King 
Alfred has the most beautiful crinkles in its trumpets and is of 
deep gold. It is very popular and not too high-priced. Tres¬ 
serve is larger, sends up longer stems, and holds up its head 
better than any other Narcissus I have seen. Both of these 
are perfectly hardy and you can soon work up a good stock 
of them. They do not multiply like Empress and Sir Watkin, 
but then the finer flowers never are prolific. The law of com¬ 
pensation holds inexorably in the floral kingdom. What you 
gain in one direction you will lose in another. 
After Empress comes Emperor— 
as is fitting. Until the coming of 
King Alfred and Tresserve and their 
compeers Emperor reigned in unchal¬ 
lenged supremacy. The flowers are 
very large, very beautiful, and the 
shape is, I think, about the most 
graceful of them all. Blooming at 
the same period is Van Waveren’s 
Giant—the largest Narcissus in my 
garden and the enchantingly lovely 
bi-color, Weardale Perfection. It is 
my best bi-color. I go into raptures 
every time 1 gather a bloom, but it is 
neither very hardy nor prolific. It 
has been on the market for many 
years, but is still very expensive. 1 
think our summers are too hot and 
too damp for it. I believe it would 
thrive in northern Tennessee and in 
Kentucky. I think a grower could 
make a fortune out of it. Contem¬ 
poraneously with these is Lord Kitch¬ 
ener. This is pure white in petals and 
has the faintest lemon-colored cup. 
It is also fairly hardy, but is mis¬ 
named. Indeed, Lord Kitchener is so 
dainty that you are reminded of those 
marquises who masquerade as shep- 
erdesses in Watteau’s pictures and 
would have been at home in the gar¬ 
den of la Pompadour and all those 
lovely ladies who, Villon tells us, are 
with les neiges d’antan. 
The long procession of beauty is now 
almost over. Late in March and early 
in April Barri conspicuus and its type 
begin to pass by. Barri conspicuus is exquisitely colored, very 
dainty, and a glorious sight in the garden. It is very hardy and is 
a good multiplier, but its petals lack substance and it is not as 
good a keeper as many others. With this are blooming the Poetaz 
varieties. These are crosses between Narcissus poeticus and 
Narcissus polyanthus. The clusters do not bear as many 
flowers as their Polyanthus ancestry, but they bloom much 
later, following in this their poeticus parentage. The best of 
them is Narcissus Poetaz Elivira. Winding up the procession 
are the Poeticus and Mrs. Langtry and others of her type. Mrs. 
Langtry is a late dwarf; both she and Lord Kitchener, and also 
the Poeticus are valuable because they lengthen out the pro¬ 
cessions. 
Coaxing My Lady Caprice 
O F COURSE, you must have a few doubles; but, much as I 
hate to admit it, they are not altogether satisfactory. 
The most beautiful of these is the Silver Phoenix. When grown 
to perfection its flowers look like miniature Duchesse de Ne¬ 
mours Peonies. Indeed, one visitor did so mistake it and said 
she was amazed to see a Peony blooming in March. But you 
seldom get such results. Out of twenty-five bulbs you are lucky 
if you get five or six perfect blooms. Orange Phoenix is not 
quite so beautiful but is quite as spuiffv as Silver Phoenix. 
Narcissus alba plena odorata, the 
gardenia-flowered Narcissus, is per¬ 
haps the daintiest of all. but it will 
simply do nothing for me. I buy and 
buy them. They bloom, a bulb or so, 
the first season and then, as in the old 
hymn, “there is nothing but leaves, 
nothing but leaves.” But I am not 
going to give it up. Away with such 
a thought! No; I shall try it in differ¬ 
ent situations, I shall give it different 
soils and different exposures. Maybe 
after much trying 1 shall succeed. It 
is so lovely—just like a small sweet 
Gardenia, but with that soft pearly 
luster that is only found on bulbous 
flowers. 
Besides, if we gardeners always 
succeeded with what we planted, 
would not gardening lose some of its 
fascinations and thrills? 1 do not ap¬ 
prove of poker, so I garden. Indeed, 
in all the evils that beset the garden 
I always find the seeds of things 
good—in all of them except those 
abominable plant embargoes that 
would make the United States a 
floral China. 1 am not a Ku Klux. 
I believe in law and order, but I feel 
tempted to devote the rest of my life 
to organizing the gardens of the world 
into an Anti Plant Board Society. 
Whose motto should be “ Plant-Board 
delenda est.” If 1 should delenda it, 
would 1 not become immortal, being 
deathlessly enthroned in the hearts of 
all who love liberty and flowers? 
THE TRUE JONQUIL 
This small, yellow, short-trumpeted 
flower lays rightful claim to the 
name of Jonquil (Narcissus Jon- 
quilla) often erroneously applied to 
its kinsman, the long-trumpeted 
Daffodil; both belong to the Nar¬ 
cissus clan 
