Somewhere in the woods not far away, a minor path leads off a well-traveled trail to a vernal pool. There, more than two decades ago, someone planted narcissus. Once established, the plants spread into thick clumps around the perimeter of the pool, and a few brave clusters still hide in the underbrush along the trail.

It takes an act of faith to find this place, and to believe that something worth seeing is at the end of this brambly, scrambly path, which is now well overgrown with prickles and scrub. For most of the year, there’s little to tempt you to make your way out here; fallen boughs and poison oak discourage the casually curious. But for a few brief days in midwinter, narcissus blooms here in lonely splendor.

The Secret Garden

Frances Hodgson Burnett’s The Secret Garden was a favorite book of mine when I was growing up. If you haven’t read it, I’ll just say that you should. It’s the story of Mary Lennox, a lonely girl who, after her parents die of cholera, is shipped back from India to England to live with her uncle at Misselthwaite Manor. There’s an air of melancholy about the house; Mary is selfish and contrary, and her uncle is sad and remote. But, guided by a friendly robin, Mary discovers a hidden garden on the grounds of the manor and meets up with a remarkable boy who helps her bring it back to life… Other hopeful and heart-warming things also happen, which you’ll have to read about for yourself. Published originally as a serial in The American Magazine, The Secret Garden came out in book form in 1911.

For me, the chief pleasure of this novel is the gradual unfolding of tightly-furled petals, both real and metaphorical. We see how kindness and patience can work minor miracles: re-green a garden, forge unlikely friendships, sweeten a sour character, heal old wounds. So it was with dismay that I watched the trailer for a new film version of this story, made, the trailer proudly announces, by the producer of Harry Potter and Paddington. Oh dear. The teaser shows a “garden” that looks to be a cross between a classical ruin and a tropical paradise, where flowers burst magically into bloom. Grandiose, rather than intimate. As far as I can tell from this 30-second peep, the filmmakers have replaced the natural miracles of slow growth and blossom with gaudy colors and over-exuberance and “magic.” What should have been sketched in delicate pastel has been rendered in technicolor. Sigh. This doesn’t mean I won’t go see the film: it stars Colin Firth, after all, and I have my priorities.

Narcissus in bloom

Craig first took me to see “our” secret garden several years ago, but we hadn’t been back since. Its blooming season is very brief, and we never seemed to think about it at the right time. This year, however, when I noticed the narcissus popping out in our neighborhood, I proposed that we make the trek out to see how this small plantation was faring.

With no obliging robin to show us the way, we missed the path at first and had to back- and side-track, crunch through fallen branches, and push our way through leafless bushes (some of which turned out to be poison oak — yeouch!). When we finally found the path, it yielded only a shallow pond, lots of green stems, and promising buds: we were too early. However, when we went back a couple of weeks later, we found the narcissus at their glorious peak.

Although it’s fun to imagine that we are the only ones who know the secret of this garden, it’s clear that we are not its only visitors. In the years since we last made our way up there, more illicit gardeners have been inspired to plant bulbs. So along with the original paperwhites, there are now flowers of pale yellow and deep gold. We even saw a cluster of big bright daffodils.

Narcissus and Echo

As we walked back to the car, I asked Craig if he knew the story of Narcissus and Echo. He didn’t — and it turned out that, as usual, I only mostly remembered it. Consulting Ovid helped me to sort out the details, a few of which had clearly been skipped over in my 6th-grade lessons on Greek mythology. These are actually two tragic stories, which Ovid wove together.

The English Romantic poet John Keats speculated that a narcissus flower growing beside a clear pool might originally have inspired this tragic tale. He writes:

What first inspired a bard of old to sing
Narcissus pining o’er the untainted spring?
In some delicious ramble, he had found
A little space, with boughs all woven round;
And in the midst of all, a clearer pool
Than e’er reflected in its pleasant cool,
The blue sky here, and there, serenely peeping
Through tendril wreaths fantastically creeping.
And on the bank a lonely flower he spied,
A meek and forlorn flower, with naught of pride,
Drooping its beauty o’er the watery clearness,
To woo its own sad image into nearness:
Deaf to light Zephyrus it would not move;
But still would seem to droop, to pine, to love.
So while the Poet stood in this sweet spot,
Some fainter gleamings o’er his fancy shot;
Nor was it long ere he had told the tale
Of young Narcissus, and sad Echo’s bale.

Over the centuries, the story of Narcissus — with or without Echo — has also inspired numerous painters. Here are a couple of examples:

Left: “Narcissus and Echo” by John William Waterhouse (early 20th century)
Right: “Narcissus” by Caravaggio (late 16th century)

The deadly sins of narcissism

Of course, the story of Narcissus also gave us a name for the concept of narcissism. In reading up on this particular mental disorder, I came across Sandy Hotchkiss’s list of the “seven deadly sins of narcissism.” I don’t think Narcissus deserved to have so many sins put to his account, but these traits definitely remind me of someone.

1. Shamelessness: Narcissists are often proudly and openly shameless; they are not bound emotionally by the needs and wishes of others. Narcissists hate criticism, and consider it “toxic,” as criticism implies they are not perfect and need to change. Narcissists prefer guilt over shame, as guilt allows them to dissociate their actions from themselves — it’s only their actions that are wrong, while their intention is good.
2. Magical thinking: Narcissists see themselves as perfect, using distortion and illusion known as magical thinking. They also use projection to “dump” shame onto others.
3. Arrogance: A narcissist who is feeling deflated may “reinflate” their sense of self-importance by diminishing, debasing, or degrading somebody else.
4. Envy: A narcissist may secure a sense of superiority in the face of another person’s ability by using contempt to minimize the other person or their achievements.
5. Entitlement: Narcissists hold unreasonable expectations of particularly favorable treatment and automatic compliance because they consider themselves special. Failure to comply is considered an attack on their superiority, and the perpetrator is considered an “awkward” or “difficult” person. Defiance of their will is a narcissistic injury that can trigger narcissistic rage.
6. Exploitation: Can take many forms but always involves the exploitation of others without regard for their feelings or interests. Often the other person is in a subservient position where resistance would be difficult or even impossible. Sometimes the subservience is not so much real as assumed. This exploitation may result in many brief, short-lived relationships.
7. Bad boundaries: Narcissists do not recognize that they have boundaries and that others are separate and are not extensions of themselves. Others either exist to meet their needs or may as well not exist at all. Those who provide narcissistic supply to the narcissist are treated as if they are part of the narcissist and are expected to live up to those expectations. In the mind of a narcissist, there is no boundary between self and other. 

Oy.

Such a jocund company

Since I can’t bear to end on that note, I’ll finish with an excerpt from a familiar poem by William Wordsworth. There’s a link to the full poem, below. (By the way, daffodils, jonquils, and narcissus — the names are pretty much interchangeable — are members of the Amaryllis family.) Here’s Wordsworth:

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze…

…I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

Daffy Down Dilly
is new come to town
in a yellow petticoat
and a green gown!

Connections

• From California Department of Fish and Wildlife: “Vernal pools are a type of temporary wetland, and are some of the most ecologically important and distinctive areas in California… Vernal pools are depressions in areas where a hard underground layer prevents rainwater from draining downward into the subsoils. When rain fills the pools in the winter and spring, the water collects and remains in the depressions. In the springtime the water gradually evaporates away, until the pools become completely dry in the summer and fall” (California’s Vernal Pools). See also: Environmental Protection Agency: Wetlands: Vernal Pools
• Frances Hodgson Burnett: The Secret Garden
• Watch the trailer for the new film version of The Secret Garden… and weep.
• I haven’t yet seen it, but the 1993 film appears to be much closer to the spirit of the book. Watch the trailer.
• Ovid: Metamorphoses: The New Annotated Edition (translated by Rolfe Humphries and annotated by Joseph D. Reed); the story of Narcissus and Echo appears on pages 67-73.
• John Keats: I stood tip-toe upon a little hill
• “Narcissus” by Caravaggio — Self-scanned, Public Domain, available on Wikipedia Commons
• “Echo and Narcissus” by John William Waterhouse — Google Art Project via Wikipedia Commons
• For more images inspired by Narcissus and Echo, see Changing Stories: Ovid’s Metamorphoses on canvas, 13 – Tiresias, Echo and Narcissus
• I found this list of “the seven deadly sins of narcissism” in Wikipedia: Narcissism. See also Sandy Hotchkiss’s book-length treatment: Why Is It Always About You? : The Seven Deadly Sins of Narcissism (2007)
• Jennifer Senior: We Are All at the Mercy of the Narcissist in Chief in The New York Times (Oct. 11, 2019) — and there’s plenty more where this came from.
• William Wordsworth: I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud

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