|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 33
But what were his surprise and his delight! what was the
disappointment of his rival! Not one of the four tulips
which the latter had meant to destroy was injured at all.
They raised proudly their noble heads above the corpses of
their slain companions. This was enough to console Van
Baerle, and enough to fan the rage of the horticultural
murderer, who tore his hair at the sight of the effects of
the crime which he had committed in vain.
Van Baerle could not imagine the cause of the mishap, which,
fortunately, was of far less consequence than it might have
been. On making inquiries, he learned that the whole night
had been disturbed by terrible caterwaulings. He besides
found traces of the cats, their footmarks and hairs left
behind on the battle-field; to guard, therefore, in future
against a similar outrage, he gave orders that henceforth
one of the under gardeners should sleep in the garden in a
sentry-box near the flower-beds.
Boxtel heard him give the order, and saw the sentry-box put
up that very day; but he deemed himself lucky in not having
been suspected, and, being more than ever incensed against
the successful horticulturist, he resolved to bide his time.
Just then the Tulip Society of Haarlem offered a prize for
the discovery (we dare not say the manufacture) of a large
black tulip without a spot of colour, a thing which had not
yet been accomplished, and was considered impossible, as at
that time there did not exist a flower of that species
approaching even to a dark nut brown. It was, therefore,
generally said that the founders of the prize might just as
well have offered two millions as a hundred thousand
guilders, since no one would be able to gain it.
The tulip-growing world, however, was thrown by it into a
state of most active commotion. Some fanciers caught at the
idea without believing it practicable, but such is the power
of imagination among florists, that although considering the
undertaking as certain to fail, all their thoughts were
engrossed by that great black tulip, which was looked upon
to be as chimerical as the black swan of Horace or the white
raven of French tradition.
Van Baerle was one of the tulip-growers who were struck with
the idea; Boxtel thought of it in the light of a
speculation. Van Baerle, as soon as the idea had once taken
root in his clear and ingenious mind, began slowly the
necessary planting and cross-breeding to reduce the tulips
which he had grown already from red to brown, and from brown
to dark brown.
By the next year he had obtained flowers of a perfect
nut-brown, and Boxtel espied them in the border, whereas he
had himself as yet only succeeded in producing the light
brown.
It might perhaps be interesting to explain to the gentle
reader the beautiful chain of theories which go to prove
that the tulip borrows its colors from the elements; perhaps
we should give him pleasure if we were to maintain and
establish that nothing is impossible for a florist who
avails himself with judgment and discretion and patience of
the sun's heat; the clear water, the juices of the earth,
and the cool breezes. But this is not a treatise upon tulips
in general; it is the story of one particular tulip which we
have undertaken to write, and to that we limit ourselves,
however alluring the subject which is so closely allied to
ours.
Boxtel, once more worsted by the superiority of his hated
rival, was now completely disgusted with tulip-growing, and,
being driven half mad, devoted himself entirely to
observation.
The house of his rival was quite open to view; a garden
exposed to the sun; cabinets with glass walls, shelves,
cupboards, boxes, and ticketed pigeon-holes, which could
easily be surveyed by the telescope. Boxtel allowed his
bulbs to rot in the pits, his seedlings to dry up in their
cases, and his tulips to wither in the borders and
henceforward occupied himself with nothing else but the
doings at Van Baerle's. He breathed through the stalks of
Van Baerle's tulips, quenched his thirst with the water he
sprinkled upon them, and feasted on the fine soft earth
which his neighbour scattered upon his cherished bulbs.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|