We can plant a memory garden
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This week we have a show-and-tell episode on garden songs, exploring the theme of gardens and flowers across Taylor Swift’s lyrics. From the haunting imagery in Ivy to the rich symbolism of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon in Cowboy Like Me, and the many different flowers in The Great War, we dig (get it?) into how Taylor uses garden and flower metaphors to evoke ideas of romance, loyalty, and loss.
🎧 Listen above and ⬇️ scroll below to read Jodi’s extra credit about Victorian flower symbolism!
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🎒This Week’s Extra Credit - Brought to You by Jodi
One of my all-time favorite books, and my favorite AP Literature read, was Mrs. Dalloway, so I’ve been itching to do an episode where I can bring up this book. When Jenn suggested an episode on gardens, I knew this was my chance to dig up (sorry the garden puns write themselves) an old college essay on Victorian flower symbolism in Virginia Woolf’s Mrs. Dalloway and D.H. Lawrence’s Women in Love. So here, dear reader, is college-age Jodi’s paper, “How Does Your Garden Grow?” from my Modernist British Fiction class.
How Does Your Garden Grow?
Woolf and Lawrence both use floral motifs to add layers of meaning to the content and structure of their respective novels. Floral symbolism and Victorian-era floriography, or the language of flowers, enhance both Mrs. Dalloway and Women in Love by translating explicit actions into their implicit meanings. By looking at the thematic use of flowers as a hidden language, one can then try to uncover the method behind the narrative modes using the language and symbolism of flowers.
Flowers are a way of communicating without speaking. It is not just the individual floral species that have meanings in Victorian floriography; color, presentation, number, and assortment all impart different meanings. Woolf and Lawrence rely on distinct aspects of floral symbolism to communicate their individual styles. Woolf utilizes flowers to signify people and places. For example, Elizabeth is often compared to “hyacinths and garden lilies” (134). Symbolically, this comparison notes Elizabeth’s growth from a child into a woman. However, these flowers characterize her as impetuous and active (the hyacinth), as well as pure of heart (the lilies).
Whether in bunches or as a single stalk, Woolf uses the entire flower—roots, stem, leaves, buds, and petals—to convey meaning. The only time flowers are not orderly or complete is Clarissa’s memory of Sally Seaton, who “picked hollyhocks, dahlias—all sorts of flowers that had never been seen together—cut their heads off, and made them swim on the top of water in bowls” (34). Lawrence, on the other hand, examines the structural quality of flowers and tries to find their scientific function. This idea develops in Chapter III, “Class-Room,” where Birkin explains the floral reproductive system to Hermione, and in turn criticizes her for her selfish, materialistic ways. In this manner, Lawrence’s thematic use of flowers mimics Birkin’s philosophical ponderings on life. He searches for knowledge and meaning by examining the intricate details of the universe.
In Mrs. Dalloway, flowers are sometimes associated with independence and being alone. At the beginning of the novel, Mrs. Dalloway famously goes by herself to buy flowers for her party. When she enters the flower shop, all her attention is suddenly focused on the abundance of foliage. “There were the flowers,” we are told, as she proceeds to lose herself among the scents and colors (13). The “earthy garden sweet smell” sparks a memory from her past—she comments on the unfortunate aging of Miss Pym, the shopkeeper. By referring to what Miss Pym had been like “years ago,” Woolf signals another one of Clarissa’s journeys into the past.
Looking at the flowers and taking in their fragrant aroma brings Clarissa back to her summer at Bourton. The earthy smell is reminiscent of her days in the country. The flowers must also remind her of her Aunt Helena, whom we later learn was a botanist. The symbolic connection between the flowers and Clarissa’s past is likely a reference to her blossoming love for Sally, Peter, and Richard during her Bourton summer. Her days of growth, maturity, and transition into womanhood all occurred during that summer as well.
Clarissa’s thoughts continue to bloom as she imagines a summer evening, “with its almost blue-black sky.” Her visual depiction of the scene, complete with “girls in muslin frocks,” is amazingly colorful and precise; it is hard to imagine this as a mere daydream, and not a memory. Clarissa captures a specific moment that seems to freeze both her present reality and her distant past. We, too, are suspended in time and space while Clarissa gets lost amongst the flowers. However, it is at this point in her metaphorical memory that she creates an aura of independence and singularity. In this one moment, every flower glows, “seems to burn by itself.” Instead of seeing the flowers as “bunches,” “masses,” and “tufts,” she sees each flower on its own. She suddenly focuses on one color, one species of flower at a time, taking in the small details that together make up that one moment amidst thousands of moments at Bourton.
The Victorian meanings of each flower may continue to provide layers of significance to this scene. There’s an interesting mix of flowers mentioned as she examines the flower shop. Delphiniums, representing big-hearted and fun, may be how Clarissa identifies herself since she sees her role in life as an assembler of people. “Masses of carnations” signify fascination and devoted love—however, later she refers specifically to red carnations, which stand for both admiration and heartache. Perhaps she admires her days at Bourton, who she was back then, and the causes she devoted herself to. She describes the red carnations as “dark and prim” and “holding their heads up,” which could signify pride and independence. In this instance, the carnations could be a reference to Sally, whom Clarissa dearly loved, admired, and respected for her independence. Clarissa mentions the sweet peas more than once—this is curious because they stand for departure, blissful pleasure, and good-bye. Although Clarissa longs for her days at Bourton, perhaps she does realize, albeit unconsciously, that those days are over and she cannot go back.
The repetition of flowers in Mrs. Dalloway is not only thematically significant, but it is structurally significant as well. As previously mentioned, flowers are used in this text to signify growth, development, and independence. Similarly, the free-indirect discourse allows Woolf to follow the development of a character’s thoughts as they become conscious of them. The diction and syntax can only blossom if the character’s thoughts continue to grow. Each character is followed independently. Once we leave the character in geographic space, we cannot follow his or her development until we meet them again somewhere in London. For instance, once Septimus dies, his presence in the novel withers away until he is only someone else’s thought.
The blooming thoughts also mimic the drifting narrative structure. There is an almost organic quality in the way the plot moves from character to character, carrying the action, geographic location, and time along with it. Time is organic in this novel—as a character relives a memory, time keeps ticking and life continues for everyone in the novel. We are constantly reminded by the chiming of Big Ben how precious time really is. The rush and hustle of busy city life keeps everyone moving so they can all be on time for their commitments. Just as a flower continues to blossom while the gardener sleeps, so too does time flower and time move on.
Although flowers are traditionally symbolic of youth and beauty, the converse can be used as well. Flowers wither and die in winter just as predictably as they blossom in spring. Woolf’s narrative reflects both the vitality of life and the inevitability of death and decay. Elizabeth is the pinnacle of beauty and youth in Mrs. Dalloway. She finds her independence from both Miss Kilman and her mother, and she grows into a stunning young woman. Her thoughts are clear and fluid, and her narrative focuses on new discoveries and the joys of life. She is compared to “poplar trees, early dawn, hyacinths, fawns, running water, and garden lilies” (134). Her effervescence and charm, visible in her free spirit and energy, is noticed by others as well as by Woolf and the audience.
Septimus, on the other hand, is a frazzled and decaying character, with a fragile mind and a tortured soul. His narrative is often random, puzzling, and destructive. He feels the dark side of life, and he represents the hopelessness of England after World War I. When Woolf follows Septimus’s thoughts, there is often a feeling of darkness and doom in his vocabulary. There are many pauses, breaths, and commas—it is as if he is at his wits end, ready to wilt and fade away into the obscurity of death. His suicide is inevitable from the moment we meet him in his state of isolation and distress in the park.
In Women in Love, flowers symbolize knowledge in addition to love. However, the love in this text is not the traditional sort seen in a Victorian novel. There is a dichotomy between the homosexual feelings Birkin and Gerald have for one another, and the turbulent love affairs Birkin has with Hermione and Ursula. As a result, flowers are not used here for their generic “romantic” language. Birkin’s love for Hermione withers as his interest in Ursula flourishes. He conveys his sentiments on life and love by relating flower reproduction to knowledge.
Birkin insists that one notices the “fact” of the flower instead of just the subjective impression. The pictorial representation of the floral structure should illustrate the very parts of the flower that make it a unique organism. Birkin wants knowledge to blossom and multiply just like flowers—one should be able to know where knowledge comes from, and reproduce it infinitely. It is the parts of the flower that matter in Lawrence’s text, not the subjective experience of flowers as is the case in Mrs. Dalloway.
The floral reproductive organs are particularly interesting to Birkin as he teaches his brief lesson. Flowers are both androgynous and sexual, with both male and female sex organs. This thematic element can be extended to represent Birkin and Gerald. Both men act upon their homosexual feelings for each other while also maintaining relationships with women. Lawrence sees their bisexual inclinations as completely natural, as he illustrates by casually referring to homosexual urges and emotions in the same manner that he treats heterosexual love. This radical move for the time is not present in previous narrative techniques because of the social implications of homosexuality during the Victorian era. Here, however, Lawrence demonstrates through Birkin how natural and common homosexuality is, if you know what to look for.
Birkin points out to Hermione the “red little spiky stigmas of the female flower, dangling yellow male catkin, yellow pollen flying from one to the other” (34). The explicit meaning of this lesson is that while flowers have both sex organs, they cannot fertilize themselves. They can produce pollen only for other flowers and they rely on other flowers to pollinate them. Implicitly, we are told that Birkin loves Gerald and cherishes his company, but he needs a relationship with a woman in order for his soul to be complete.
When Birkin shows Hermione the stigmas and the catkins, he says, “and now, you will always see them” (35). She needs to be instructed to look at the little things in order to understand the big picture. This relationship between implicit and explicit knowledge is dually exhibited in Lawrence’s narrative technique. Frequently, the conversations that take place between Birkin, Gerald, Ursula, and Gudrun are about one thing, but actually mean something completely different. Lawrence requires his readers to look at every detail as equally important as the next. Like Birkin, he wants the readers to get the facts and not just the subjective impression. Both are equally important.
While Woolf and Lawrence both use floral motifs, they mold the same theme into two very different narratives. The distinction between the narrative contents can be seen more clearly when they are compared to James Joyce’s Ulysses, which manipulates flowers even further. Joyce’s text feels almost like an overgrown garden, whose gardener planted as much as possible in a small area and then forgot to trim the weeds. There are an abundance of floral associations in the “Lotus Eater” chapter, where Leopold Bloom (the most visible flower reference) receives a letter from his mistress, Martha, with a pressed flower inside. After reading the letter, his thoughts are littered with flowers growing in between almost every word. This one paragraph, with 11 floral terms, reflects the narrative style of the entire novel. Joyce lets his characters’ minds take charge and follows their conscious and unconscious thoughts wherever they may lead. As a result, passages are sometimes incomprehensible because they are made up not of words, but of sounds, images, and obscure representations. This passage in particular feels forced, unnatural, and chaotic. This is because names of flowers replace nouns in phrases from Martha’s letter. These are, apparently, bits of Bloom’s unconscious mind coming through as muddled conscious thought.
How, then, does this provide a comparison between Mrs. Dalloway and Women in Love? Each text has a much more natural and fluid narrative. While all three novels follow the growth and development of consciousness as the characters become conscious, it is only in Ulysses that the reader is taken virtually everywhere, including the restroom during the most private moments. An appropriate way to approach a comparison of these texts would be to assign each a flower. Mrs. Dalloway would be a mixed bouquet of hyacinths, roses, carnations, hydrangeas, and lilies. Just as Clarissa wants to bring people together, so too does the text assemble people who would normally not be associated with each other. The text is much like one of Sally’s floral arrangements: “all sorts of flowers that had never been seen together” (34). Lawrence’s text is like a thorny rose, beautiful but dangerous. There is a constant union of love and death, even though they are often seen as polar opposites. In Women in Love, two contrasting ideas, or people, as Birkin and Ursula prove, are frequently brought together harmoniously. However, these two novels can only really be characterized by flowers after reading Ulysses. Joyce’s novel is some sort of weed or wildflower, found in the most unexpected places. They turn up everywhere: creeping through cracks in the sidewalk, mixing and mingling with the roses in the rose garden. Both Mrs. Dalloway and Women in Love appear perfectly structured, poised, and clear after reading Ulysses.