Dumas, Alexandre – The Black Tulip

unknown, obscure gardener, was the godson of Mynheer

Cornelius de Witt, that is to say, a celebrity.

Boxtel, as the reader may see, was not possessed of the

spirit of Porus, who, on being conquered by Alexander,

consoled himself with the celebrity of his conqueror.

And now if Van Baerle produced a new tulip, and named it the

John de Witt, after having named one the Cornelius? It was

indeed enough to choke one with rage.

Thus Boxtel, with jealous foreboding, became the prophet of

his own misfortune. And, after having made this melancholy

discovery, he passed the most wretched night imaginable.

Chapter 6

The Hatred of a Tulip-fancier

From that moment Boxtel’s interest in tulips was no longer a

stimulus to his exertions, but a deadening anxiety.

Henceforth all his thoughts ran only upon the injury which

his neighbour would cause him, and thus his favourite

occupation was changed into a constant source of misery to him.

Van Baerle, as may easily be imagined, had no sooner begun

to apply his natural ingenuity to his new fancy, than he

succeeded in growing the finest tulips. Indeed; he knew

better than any one else at Haarlem or Leyden — the two

towns which boast the best soil and the most congenial

climate — how to vary the colours, to modify the shape, and

to produce new species.

He belonged to that natural, humorous school who took for

their motto in the seventeenth century the aphorism uttered

by one of their number in 1653, — “To despise flowers is to

offend God.”

From that premise the school of tulip-fanciers, the most

exclusive of all schools, worked out the following syllogism

in the same year: —

“To despise flowers is to offend God.

“The more beautiful the flower is, the more does one offend

God in despising it.

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Dumas, Alexandre – The Black Tulip

“The tulip is the most beautiful of all flowers.

“Therefore, he who despises the tulip offends God beyond

measure.”

By reasoning of this kind, it can be seen that the four or

five thousand tulip-growers of Holland, France, and

Portugal, leaving out those of Ceylon and China and the

Indies, might, if so disposed, put the whole world under the

ban, and condemn as schismatics and heretics and deserving

of death the several hundred millions of mankind whose hopes

of salvation were not centred upon the tulip.

We cannot doubt that in such a cause Boxtel, though he was

Van Baerle’s deadly foe, would have marched under the same

banner with him.

Mynheer van Baerle and his tulips, therefore, were in the

mouth of everybody; so much so, that Boxtel’s name

disappeared for ever from the list of the notable

tulip-growers in Holland, and those of Dort were now

represented by Cornelius van Baerle, the modest and

inoffensive savant.

Engaging, heart and soul, in his pursuits of sowing,

planting, and gathering, Van Baerle, caressed by the whole

fraternity of tulip-growers in Europe, entertained nor the

least suspicion that there was at his very door a pretender

whose throne he had usurped.

He went on in his career, and consequently in his triumphs;

and in the course of two years he covered his borders with

such marvellous productions as no mortal man, following in

the tracks of the Creator, except perhaps Shakespeare and

Rubens, have equalled in point of numbers.

And also, if Dante had wished for a new type to be added to

his characters of the Inferno, he might have chosen Boxtel

during the period of Van Baerle’s successes. Whilst

Cornelius was weeding, manuring, watering his beds, whilst,

kneeling on the turf border, he analysed every vein of the

flowering tulips, and meditated on the modifications which

might be effected by crosses of colour or otherwise, Boxtel,

concealed behind a small sycamore which he had trained at

the top of the partition wall in the shape of a fan,

watched, with his eyes starting from their sockets and with

foaming mouth, every step and every gesture of his

neighbour; and whenever he thought he saw him look happy, or

descried a smile on his lips, or a flash of contentment

glistening in his eyes, he poured out towards him such a

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