Hellebores put magic into shady garden
Cloisters Museum offers a chance to learn about mythology surrounding Lenten rose and its relatives, writes Ailsa Francis.
When I think of the springblooming perennial known as the Lenten rose, I mentally transport myself to a walled medieval garden, where monks and herbalists tend their plants to the sounds of Gregorian chant.
Luckily for us, a visit to the Bonnefont herb garden at the Cloisters Museum in New York City gives the garden-lover a chance to experience this ancient era as well as many of the plants that were grown during that time.
This special place, which belongs to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, sits high in Fort Tryon Park overlooking the Hudson River and appears untouched by the modern world. There is indeed no shortage of magical mythology mixed into the history of the hellebore, so that unicorns pictured in tapestries and fanciful creatures in stone carvings only contribute to the sense of enchantment.
Despite the Christian name, the Lenten rose (Helleborus orientalis) originates from the shady woodlands of Turkey and the Caucasus. Its common name refers to its bloom time, which takes place within the 40 days before Easter — generally from late February through mid-April.
Its relative, the Christmas rose (Helleborus niger; niger signifying black, the colour of its roots), comes from central and southern Europe and was so named after the story of a young girl who had no gift to present to the Christ child. As the result of her tears or, in another version, the touch of an angel, the Christmas rose magically sprouted from the ground.
Three species of hellebore are planted in the Cloisters garden — H. foetidus, H. niger and H. orientalis — and they have a welldocumented history.
Mentioned in Greek mythology as a cure for madness, hellebore was also used to purge the body of black bile and excess phlegm. It was a remedy for skin diseases, deafness and toothache.
The ancient Roman naturalist Pliny records that the proper way to harvest this plant was by first asking for the gods’ permission. With luck, the plant could then be plucked; but if an eagle suddenly appeared, the poor gatherer would certainly die within the year, permission or not.
Most magically, when sprinkled on the ground, the powdered root of the hellebore could make the bearer invisible — perhaps because of the eye irritation and temporary blindness it caused others.
Modern etymologists believe that the word hellebore derives from the Greek words suggesting either “eaten by fawns” or “good grazing,” both of which demonstrate a conceit that signified the opposite.
The fact that hellebore is at best a purgative and at worst, toxic, means that you won’t have to worry about it being eaten by wildlife in your garden. But don’t react to this small detail by tearing out your beautiful specimens. The chemical components of hellebore are extremely unpalatable, so the chance of suffering ill effects from them is negligible.
But let’s get to the point: hellebores are beautiful and dead easy to grow. And because of their relatively rigid evergreen foliage and long-lasting flowers, their glory continues till the snow falls.
Most so-called garden-worthy hellebores these days are hybrids with flowers of varying shades of pinks, purples, maroon, cream and white. Placed in a shady spot, among fern and hosta, these plants bring months of interest as well as mythical associations to our modern gardens.