Today I want to discover more about the language of flowers, a secretive form of communication used a lot during the Victorian era. It allowed people to say things that society would not permit them to say aloud.
Long before the Victorian era, flowers carried meaning in different cultures. In ancient Persia and the Ottoman Empire, arrangements known as selam let objects, including flowers, to represent messages. Travellers to the East during the eighteenth century brought home stories of this symbolic language. It fascinated people and became popular. By the late Georgian era, curiosity in botany was beginning to grow in Britain. Explorers were bringing back plants from all over the Empire. Gardening became fashionable. The wealthy filled greenhouses with beautiful plants.
When the nineteenth century began, Britain was changing at an unexpected rate.
Industrialisation was reshaping cities, class structures and social rules. Nowhere was this more obviously than in courtships. Public displays of affection were a complete no, no. Especially among the respectable middle and upper classes. Women were supervised letters were often read, reputations could be damaged by even the smallest whisper of any impropriety. In this environment, feelings had to be disguised and so flowers became one way in which messages could be sent.
The publication of floral dictionaries made the trend even more popular. In 1819, a book simply titled Le Langage des Fleurs appeared in France and English translations soon became available. By the 1830s and 1840s, numerous British guides were available and listed flowers and their meanings. A red rose meant passionate love; a yellow rose could show jealousy; rosemary signified remembrance and lily of the valley promised a return of happiness. These books were not always consistent, and the meanings could vary, but that uncertainty only added to the mystique. Giving flowers to someone required thought and receiving them required you to translate.
During the early reign of Queen Victoria, romantic sentiment became woven into culture. The Queen herself had a strong emotional nature, and her clear public devotion to Prince Albert helped shape ideals of perfect love and domestic affection. The Victorian imagination embraced passion but society was still demanding composure. The language of flowers offered up a compromise. Your feelings could be expressed, but discreetly and privately.
A young man might send a posy to a woman he liked. A sprig of myrtle for love, a white camellia for admiration, perhaps a touch of ivy to show his fidelity. He may have felt a mixture of hope and anxiety when he sent the bouquet. Would she understand? Would she reply? For the young woman, receiving such a gift was probably equally as exciting. She would translate the message, maybe with her heart racing as she matched each flower to its meaning. In a world where she had limited freedoms, decoding the message might have felt like rebellion.
Flowers also carried other messages, not just of romance. White lilies and chrysanthemums appeared at funerals, representing purity and mourning. Widows would wear small bouquets, the flowers might have given some comfort in the understanding these blooms conveyed. Even friendship and apology were communicated through carefully chosen flowers. Violets signified loyalty, lavender meant devotion. In a way, the language of flowers became woven into everyday life.
The expansion of printing and mass production helped spread the practice. By the 1850s, inexpensive floral guides were widely available. Middle-class households often kept them alongside their etiquette manuals. Flower arranging became an accomplishment for young ladies, part of a broader education in refinement. Gardens were expanded, parks thrived and urban flower markets became really successful. Covent Garden in London bustled with colour and fragrance, connecting rural growers with city dwellers eager to participate in this symbolic trend.
But there was also problems with this coded world. Misinterpretation was a real possiblity. A flower chosen for its beauty might unintentionally carry a hidden meaning. A wilted bloom could imply fading affection. The system depended on the same shared knowledge, and not everyone agreed on the definitions. Some Victorians may have found ambiguity frustrating. Others maybe enjoyed the drama, the way a single bouquet could cause anticipation, jealousy, or even longing.
As the century progressed, photography, faster postal services, and eventually the telephone began to change communication. It became far easier than ever before. Social conventions were slowly relaxing. By the late Victorian and Edwardian periods, the strict codes surrounding courtship had loosened slight but they never really disappeared. The intense popularity of floral dictionaries sadly declined, but the emotional associations remained embedded in culture even today. Red roses still mean love. Forget-me-nots still carry a plea not to be forgotten.
Looking back, the language of flowers reveals a society negotiating between restraint and desire. Victorian men and women were not devoid of passion; they simply lived within boundaries that shaped how that passion could be expressed. Flowers offered beauty, but they also offered safety. In them people found a way to confess, to grieve, to hope, and to remember without ever speaking a single word.
It is tempting to imagine the moments these exchanges created: a young woman pressing a flower between the pages of her diary, a soldier sending home a small bouquet before leaving, a widow arranging blossoms beside a photograph. Each gesture carried a feeling beneath its surface. Each stem held more than just decoration.
Perhaps that is why the language of flowers still fascinates us today. It reminds us that even in the most constrained circumstances, human emotion searches for expression.
If you had lived in Victorian Britain, which flower would you have chosen to send, and what message would you have hoped it carried?
Image info:
Date:1900
Artist: Alphonse Mucha
Language of Flowers by Alphonse Mucha, Plate 35 from Album de la Décoration, 1900. Color lithograph.
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