WHEN Fritillaria imperialis first arrived in Vienna, in 1576, it caused a sensation. As part of the first wave into Europe of unfamiliar plants from Constantinople, it soon spread throughout the gardens of the Continent. At 3ft tall, with brightly coloured flowers that have an unruly topknot of leaves, it is easy to imagine how thrilling its appearance must have been. It featured in many paintings of the period and a still life of 1626 by Johannes Bosschaert famously shows an enormous Fritillaria imperialis dominating the canvas, overshadowing all the fancy tulips, anemones and other exotic plants that were exciting collectors of the time. Clearly, he considered the crown imperial, as it became known, to be supreme. It remains, today, a dramatic presence, still capable of producing gasps of wonder.
Fritillaria imperialis has become a mainstay of spring borders, where it stands proudly, and flamboyantly, above tulips, hyacinths and narcissus. Throughout April the bell-like flowers dangle from solid stems, attracting pollinating insects to the teardrops of nectar that form at the base of each flower. From its first unfurling, the plant makes its presence known by its pungent, foxy smell: to some, this is a disagreeable, even nauseating, scent; to others, it is one of the perfumes of spring, a sign that the garden is reawakening.
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