Dumas, Alexandre – The Black Tulip

turning his glance towards his bulbs, — objects of much

greater importance to him than all those muskets, standards,

drums, and proclamations, which he conceived only to be fit

to disturb the minds of honest people, — he said: —

“These are, indeed, beautiful bulbs; how smooth they are,

how well formed; there is that air of melancholy about them

which promises to produce a flower of the colour of ebony.

On their skin you cannot even distinguish the circulating

veins with the naked eye. Certainly, certainly, not a light

spot will disfigure the tulip which I have called into

existence. And by what name shall we call this offspring of

my sleepless nights, of my labour and my thought? Tulipa

nigra Barlaensis?

“Yes Barlaensis: a fine name. All the tulip-fanciers — that

is to say, all the intelligent people of Europe — will feel

a thrill of excitement when the rumour spreads to the four

quarters of the globe: The grand black tulip is found! ‘How

is it called?’ the fanciers will ask. — ‘Tulipa nigra

Barlaensis!’ — ‘Why Barlaensis?’ — ‘After its grower, Van

Baerle,’ will be the answer. — ‘And who is this Van

Baerle?’ — ‘It is the same who has already produced five

new tulips: the Jane, the John de Witt, the Cornelius de

Witt, etc.’ Well, that is what I call my ambition. It will

cause tears to no one. And people will talk of my Tulipa

nigra Barlaensis when perhaps my godfather, this sublime

politician, is only known from the tulip to which I have

given his name.

“Oh! these darling bulbs!

“When my tulip has flowered,” Baerle continued in his

soliloquy, “and when tranquillity is restored in Holland, I

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Dumas, Alexandre – The Black Tulip

shall give to the poor only fifty thousand guilders, which,

after all, is a goodly sum for a man who is under no

obligation whatever. Then, with the remaining fifty thousand

guilders, I shall make experiments. With them I shall

succeed in imparting scent to the tulip. Ah! if I succeed in

giving it the odour of the rose or the carnation, or, what

would be still better, a completely new scent; if I restored

to this queen of flowers its natural distinctive perfume,

which she has lost in passing from her Eastern to her

European throne, and which she must have in the Indian

peninsula at Goa, Bombay, and Madras, and especially in that

island which in olden times, as is asserted, was the

terrestrial paradise, and which is called Ceylon, — oh,

what glory! I must say, I would then rather be Cornelius van

Baerle than Alexander, Caesar, or Maximilian.

“Oh the admirable bulbs!”

Thus Cornelius indulged in the delights of contemplation,

and was carried away by the sweetest dreams.

Suddenly the bell of his cabinet was rung much more

violently than usual.

Cornelius, startled, laid his hands on his bulbs, and turned

round.

“Who is here?” he asked.

“Sir,” answered the servant, “it is a messenger from the

Hague.”

“A messenger from the Hague! What does he want?”

“Sir, it is Craeke.”

“Craeke! the confidential servant of Mynheer John de Witt?

Good, let him wait.”

“I cannot wait,” said a voice in the lobby.

And at the same time forcing his way in, Craeke rushed into

the dry-room.

This abrupt entrance was such an infringement on the

established rules of the household of Cornelius van Baerle,

that the latter, at the sight of Craeke, almost convulsively

moved his hand which covered the bulbs, so that two of them

fell on the floor, one of them rolling under a small table,

and the other into the fireplace.

“Zounds!” said Cornelius, eagerly picking up his precious

bulbs, “what’s the matter?”

“The matter, sir!” said Craeke, laying a paper on the large

table, on which the third bulb was lying, — “the matter is,

that you are requested to read this paper without losing one

moment.”

And Craeke, who thought he had remarked in the streets of

Dort symptoms of a tumult similar to that which he had

witnessed before his departure from the Hague, ran off

without even looking behind him.

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Dumas, Alexandre – The Black Tulip