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Dark Garden Night
“BELLADONNA, n. In Italian a beautiful lady; in English a deadly poison.”
~ Ambrose Bierce, The Devil’s Dictionary, 1911
This darkly beautiful tartan has a touch of danger associated with its namesake—making it particularly appropriate for Dark Garden Night, a time to venture out in the changing garden as All Hallow's Eve looms large in imagination and seasonal signs.
Belladonna, or deadly nightshade (Atropa belladonna), is a near-perfect example of beauty concealing danger. Its name comes from the Italian bella donna, “beautiful lady,” traditionally linked to the use of belladonna preparations to dilate the pupils, once considered an alluring effect. The culprit is atropine, one of the plant’s powerful alkaloids—and a reminder that poison and medicine sometimes occupy surprisingly close quarters. Atropine remains an important medicine and is still used in ophthalmology to dilate the pupil.
The plant itself looks suitably Gothic: dusky purple, bell-shaped flowers, deep green leaves and glossy black berries. Yet all parts are poisonous if eaten, particularly the tempting berries. Even its botanical name has a dark pedigree: Atropa refers to Atropos, one of the three Fates of Greek mythology—the one who cut the thread of life.
The Victorians added another layer through the “language of flowers.” Floriography was never entirely standardized, but deadly nightshade was associated with meanings including silence and falsehood, while other poisonous garden beauties carried equally ominous messages. Monkshood could signify misanthropy or warn that “a deadly foe is near”; foxglove could mean insincerity; and oleander offered the admirably concise warning “beware.”
These were hardly rare curiosities in the dark garden. Yew, ancient and poisonous, became entwined with sorrow, mourning and death; datura, with its spectacular trumpet flowers, acquired associations with poison, intoxication, magic and altered states. Many of these plants also inhabit that fascinating borderland between poison and medicine. Belladonna gave medicine atropine, while foxglove provided the compounds from which digitalis drugs were developed. As the old toxicological principle attributed to Paracelsus puts it, “The dose makes the poison.”
For a tartan inspired by Goth style and the colors of the nightshade plant, belladonna could hardly be more fitting: dusky purple flowers, deep green leaves and lustrous black berries, wrapped in centuries of associations with beauty, poison, medicine, folklore and death.
It is the Gothic contradiction in botanical form—beautiful enough to invite a closer look, and dangerous enough to make the invitation slightly unsettling.
Caveat admirator — Let the admirer beware.
💜 🖤 💙 💚 🥀 ☠️ 🥀 💚 💙 🖤 💜
Some of the most beautiful plants in the garden have a decidedly sinister side. For centuries, gardeners have cultivated flowers whose graceful forms, intoxicating scents and jewel-like berries conceal remarkably potent chemistry. Belladonna, or deadly nightshade (Atropa belladonna), is perhaps the classic example: dusky purple bells followed by glossy black berries, and a name—“beautiful lady”—linked to the historic use of its atropine-containing preparations to dilate the pupils.
It is hardly alone. Monkshood (Aconitum) produces magnificent spires of blue and violet flowers, yet contains aconitine, one of the more formidable plant poisons. Foxglove (Digitalis) bears elegant towers of spotted, thimble-shaped flowers and contains cardiac glycosides—the same family of compounds that gave rise to important heart medicines, but which can be dangerous when the plant itself is ingested. Lily of the valley, deceptively sweet and innocent in appearance, also contains potent cardiac glycosides.
Then there are the great theatrical beauties. Datura, with enormous trumpet-shaped flowers, and angel’s trumpet (Brugmansia), with its spectacular hanging blossoms and evening fragrance, contain tropane alkaloids related to those found in belladonna. Oleander, a mainstay of warm-climate gardens, flowers lavishly in pink, white and red while remaining highly toxic if eaten. Even the stately castor bean plant, grown for its dramatic foliage and scarlet seedpods, produces seeds containing ricin.
Not surprisingly, such plants acquired a rich shadowy folklore. Belladonna, henbane, mandrake and datura became associated in European tradition with witches, sorcery, visions and the mysterious “flying ointments” described in early modern accounts. Monkshood was also called wolfsbane, from the old belief that it could kill or repel wolves and other dangerous creatures. Foxgloves gathered fairy lore around themselves—the name has even been popularly interpreted as “folk’s gloves,” the folk being the fairies—while the strangely human-shaped mandrake root inspired the famous legend that it screamed when torn from the earth, with fatal consequences for anyone unfortunate enough to hear it.
There is something wonderfully Gothic about the contradiction: the moonlit trumpet flower, the purple hood of aconite, the gleaming black berries of nightshade and the innocent white bells of lily of the valley all conceal chemistry considerably darker than their appearance suggests. Perhaps that is why poisonous plants have wandered so easily from the physic garden into folklore, witchcraft, poetry and murder mysteries. As Paracelsus observed in the sixteenth century, “The dose makes the poison.” In a dark garden, the loveliest flower may also have the most interesting secrets.
For more on deadly but beautiful garden plants, click the Dark Lady!