| |
It’s bulb planting time again; that last chilly chore in our gardens where we make our commitment to next spring. From the moment they arrived in that first shipment from Constantinople 450 years ago, tulips have reigned supreme as the most beloved of all spring bulbs. But there was another bulb that arrived, probably in that same shipment, that became an instant, if slightly less well known superstar: the Crown Imperial fritillaria.
While there are many fascinating varieties of fritillaria, it was this tall, stunning Crown Imperial that made the greatest impact when it arrived from the gardens of the serai of the greatest sultan of all: Suleyman the Magnificent. As Western Europe focused its attention, even obsession, on the tulip, the Austrian Imperial Court fell in love with this dramatic ‘lily of the turbaned countries’.
Their passion for the Persian Lily, as it was then called, meant that all fashionable Austrians showcased this spectacular flower in their gardens and hostesses decorated their ballrooms and dinner tables with huge vases of the stunning blooms. Rivalries among gardeners sprang up to see who could produce the plant with the most blooms. It may not have been as famous, or infamous, as the tulip, but it was making a big impression on anyone lucky enough to get their hands on bulbs to plant.
|
 |
In addition to its striking appearance, the flower has an intriguing physical feature that has spawned some fascinating legends. If you turn up the hanging blooms you will see six small drops of sugary nectar at the base of each petal ‘resembling in shew faire orient pearles’. An ancient Persian legend telling how we got the flower says a queen, falsely accused of adultery by her king, was turned into the fritillaria and the nectar drops are her tears.
Another legend says that it grew in the garden of Gethsemane, but failed to bow its head as Christ was dying, so the drops of nectar are its tears of eternal shame and repentance. And there are some experts who believe the biblical phrase ‘the lilies drop forth myrrh’ refers to the Crown Imperial.
|
|
While its admirers wax poetic, they seemed to have completely ignored fritillaria’s olfactory shortcomings: if the bulbs are allowed to rot and you accidentally cut into one as you dig in the garden, they give off a stink that will make your eyes water. Named for the pot-shaped Roman dice cup, the fritillus, the flower had, as all plants do, its everyday uses. Despite its pungency, very small amounts of grated bulbs were commonly used as flavouring for stews. Though cooks had to be careful: fritillaria bulbs are poisonous raw and harmless only when well cooked.
|
|
|
So this fall, consider expanding your spring bulb horizons to include a stand of these stately plants, the greatest of all Imperial flowers. From Persia, to Constantinople, to Vienna, for centuries these little brown bulbs have packed a powerful promise: they guarantee life, colour and beauty in our gardens after the long, cold winter.
|
