The Garden Magazine, August, 1924 
395 
IN A FORMAL GARDEN 
With an inherent princely splendour of 
mein, the tall Bearded Iris fits easily into 
the most elaborate surroundings. Garden 
of Mr. J. Amory Haskell at Red Bank, N. 
J.; C. W. Leavitt, Landscape Architect 
Othello is a dear flower, the same coloring as Perfection only much 
deeper; the flower is a good bit smaller and less finely shaped, but its 
extraordinary depth of color makes it very lovely in a mass of planting. 
I always delight in Mrs. McKinney’s long row of this Iris, and she told 
me she dearly loved it herself. Cordelia I have heard called so similar 
to Monsignor, and inferior, that it merits discard. 1 find it neither 
similar nor inferior. Monsignor is a striking thing of a deep hot purple 
that catches the eye at once; but Cordelia is the greater beauty of the 
two, in rich and subtle tones of blue-lavender and rose-purple. 
I do not know just where to class Alcazar, but it is generally called 
a bicolor. It is rather new, though not much more expensive than 
these others and rates 8.9. The standards are smoky blue; the falls 
darker, with much bronze at the base. The coloring would seem to 
imply some squalens blood. It is tall, strong, free, and shapely in 
the gardens where I have seen it. The new and costly Lent A 
Williamson is always compared with Alcazar, and most experts say it 
is a finer individual flower but no better for garden effect, perhaps not 
so good. Oriflamme seems to me variable. I do not always rave, 
yet sometimes its beauty is spectacular. It can be impressively huge 
with very long and drooping falls, and of a lovely blue tone. Yet I 
have seen it when the standards were a weak grav-blue, the growth poor 
and low, and the texture so flimsy as to quite ruin the flower. 
Some Favorite Whites 
HERE are not very many high-class white Irises seemingly. Some 
that are rated very high do not grow at all well in our Eastern 
states. 1 have seen few of the white Iris and none of the giants among 
them. Everyone knows the old, old Florentina, which grows wild 
in Italy, and has been cultivated in gardens for hundreds of years. The 
flavor of poetry clings closely to it and that is a great thing for any 
flower to possess. It is rather lovely, but I do not care for so blue a 
white. Mrs. Horace Darwin also is a very dull white. It is popular, 
called “the inexpensive white.” But I would not keep mine after once 
seeing it bloom. And even less good, by far, is Mrs. George Darwin, 
whose falls are nearly covered by brown and gold reticulations. It is 
seldom listed nowadays. 
Innocenza is my favorite white. It was introduced in 1854 and, of 
course, has long since been superseded in point of size, but I think its 
charm would take some beating. The rather small flowers, with flaring 
falls on top of tall slim stalks, have an airy grace that is delicious. 
And the white is of so warm a tone that in some lights it is almost a 
cream. All the white Irises I know have some markings at the base 
of the falls, but Innocenza’s little reticulations of pale reddish brown 
are most unobtrusive. White Knight seems to me identical in color, 
but the shape is different, the falls hang instead of flaring, giving the 
flower a less graceful look, but one of more solid and showy whiteness. 
La Neige is newer than any of these (only about ten years old). It is 
a glorified Innocenza, larger, of the same delicious cream tone, but 
almost spoiled by its too dwarf stature. One Iris expert declares that 
both White Knight and La Neige totally lack Innocenza’s cream tint. 
Yet I thought those I saw were true to name, and all three certainly 
struck me as the same in color. 
Personally I cannot bear Mme. Chereau and all the other old-type 
plicatas. That edging of delicate lilac lines on a white ground looks 
merely fussy to me; and at a distance, the lilac edge fades away, and 
you see only what appears to be an impossibly small white petal. But 
