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Haarlem, whither, three
days ago, we conducted our gentle reader, and whither we request him to follow
us once more in the footsteps of the prisoner, is a pleasant city, which justly
prides itself on being one of the most shady in all the Netherlands.
While other towns boast of
the magnificence of their arsenals and dock-yards, and the splendour of their
shops and markets, Haarlem's claims to fame rest upon her superiority to all
other provincial cities in the number and beauty of her spreading elms,
graceful poplars, and, more than all, upon her pleasant walks, shaded by the
lovely arches of magnificent oaks, lindens, and chestnuts.
Haarlem, -- just as her
neighbour, Leyden, became the centre of science, and her queen, Amsterdam, that
of commerce, -- Haarlem preferred to be the agricultural, or, more strictly
speaking, the horticultural metropolis.
In fact, girt about as she
was, breezy and exposed to the sun's hot rays, she seemed to offer to gardeners
so many more guarantees of success than other places, with their heavy sea air,
and their scorching heat.
On this account all the
serene souls who loved the earth and its fruits had gradually gathered together
at Haarlem, just as all the nervous, uneasy spirits, whose ambition was for
travel and commerce, had settled in Rotterdam and Amsterdam, and all the
politicians and selfish worldlings at the Hague.
We have observed that
Leyden overflowed with scholars. In like manner Haarlem was devoted to the
gentle pursuits of peace, -- to music and painting, orchards and avenues,
groves and parks. Haarlem went wild about flowers, and tulips received their
full share of worship.
Haarlem offered prizes for
tulip-growing; and this fact brings us in the most natural manner to that
celebration which the city intended to hold on May 15th, 1673 in honour of the
great black tulip, immaculate and perfect, which should gain for its discoverer
one hundred thousand guilders!
Haarlem, having placed on
exhibition its favourite, having advertised its love of flowers in general and
of tulips in particular, at a period when the souls of men were filled with war
and sedition, -- Haarlem, having enjoyed the exquisite pleasure of admiring the
very purest ideal of tulips in full bloom, -- Haarlem, this tiny town, full of
trees and of sunshine, of light and shade, had determined that the ceremony of
bestowing the prize should be a fete which should live for ever in the memory
of men.
So much the more reason was
there, too, in her determination, in that Holland is the home of fetes; never
did sluggish natures manifest more eager energy of the singing and dancing sort
than those of the good republicans of the Seven Provinces when amusement was
the order of the day.
Study the pictures of the
two Teniers.
It is certain that sluggish
folk are of all men the most earnest in tiring themselves, not when they are at
work, but at play.
Thus Haarlem was thrice
given over to rejoicing, for a three-fold celebration was to take place.
In the first place, the
black tulip had been produced; secondly, the Prince William of Orange, as a
true Hollander, had promised to be present at the ceremony of its inauguration;
and, thirdly, it was a point of honour with the States to show to the French,
at the conclusion of such a disastrous war as that of 1672, that the flooring
of the Batavian Republic was solid enough for its people to dance on it, with
the accompaniment of the cannon of their fleets.
The Horticultural Society
of Haarlem had shown itself worthy of its fame by giving a hundred thousand
guilders for the bulb of a tulip. The town, which did not wish to be outdone,
voted a like sum, which was placed in the hands of that notable body to
solemnise the auspicious event.
And indeed on the Sunday
fixed for this ceremony there was such a stir among the people, and such an
enthusiasm among the townsfolk, that even a Frenchman, who laughs at everything
at all times, could not have helped admiring the character of those honest Hollanders,
who were equally ready to spend their money for the construction of a
man-of-war -- that is to say, for the support of national honour -- as they
were to reward the growth of a new flower, destined to bloom for one day, and
to serve during that day to divert the ladies, the learned, and the curious.
At the head of the notables
and of the Horticultural Committee shone Mynheer van Systens, dressed in his
richest habiliments.
The worthy man had done his
best to imitate his favourite flower in the sombre and stern elegance of his
garments; and we are bound to record, to his honour, that he had perfectly
succeeded in his object.
Dark crimson velvet, dark
purple silk, and jet-black cloth, with linen of dazzling whiteness, composed
the festive dress of the President, who marched at the head of his Committee
carrying an enormous nosegay, like that which a hundred and twenty-one years
later, Monsieur de Robespierre displayed at the festival of "The Supreme
Being."
There was, however, a
little difference between the two; very different from the French tribune,
whose heart was so full of hatred and ambitious vindictiveness, was the honest
President, who carried in his bosom a heart as innocent as the flowers which he
held in his hand.
Behind the Committee, who
were as gay as a meadow, and as fragrant as a garden in spring, marched the
learned societies of the town, the magistrates, the military, the nobles and
the boors.
The people, even among the
respected republicans of the Seven Provinces, had no place assigned to them in
the procession; they merely lined the streets.
This is the place for the
multitude, which with true philosophic spirit, waits until the triumphal
pageants have passed, to know what to say of them, and sometimes also to know
what to do.
This time, however, there
was no question either of the triumph of Pompey or of Caesar; neither of the
defeat of Mithridates, nor of the conquest of Gaul. The procession was as
placid as the passing of a flock of lambs, and as inoffensive as a flight of birds
sweeping through the air.
Haarlem had no other
triumphers, except its gardeners. Worshipping flowers, Haarlem idolised the
florist.
In the centre of this
pacific and fragrant cortege the black tulip was seen, carried on a litter,
which was covered with white velvet and fringed with gold.
The handles of the litter
were supported by four men, who were from time to time relieved by fresh
relays, -- even as the bearers of Mother Cybele used to take turn and turn
about at Rome in the ancient days, when she was brought from Etruria to the
Eternal City, amid the blare of trumpets and the worship of a whole nation.
This public exhibition of
the tulip was an act of adoration rendered by an entire nation, unlettered and
unrefined, to the refinement and culture of its illustrious and devout leaders,
whose blood had stained the foul pavement of the Buytenhof, reserving the right
at a future day to inscribe the names of its victims upon the highest stone of
the Dutch Pantheon.
It was arranged that the
Prince Stadtholder himself should give the prize of a hundred thousand
guilders, which interested the people at large, and it was thought that perhaps
he would make a speech which interested more particularly his friends and
enemies.
For in the most
insignificant words of men of political importance their friends and their
opponents always endeavour to detect, and hence think they can interpret,
something of their true thoughts.
As if your true
politician's hat were not a bushel under which he always hides his light!
At length the great and
long-expected day -- May 15, 1673 -- arrived; and all Haarlem, swelled by her
neighbours, was gathered in the beautiful tree-lined streets, determined on
this occasion not to waste its applause upon military heroes, or those who had
won notable victories in the field of science, but to reserve their applause
for those who had overcome Nature, and had forced the inexhaustible mother to
be delivered of what had theretofore been regarded as impossible, -- a
completely black tulip.
Nothing however, is more
fickle than such a resolution of the people. When a crowd is once in the humour
to cheer, it is just the same as when it begins to hiss. It never knows when to
stop.
It therefore, in the first
place, cheered Van Systens and his nosegay, then the corporation, then followed
a cheer for the people; and, at last, and for once with great justice, there
was one for the excellent music with which the gentlemen of the town councils
generously treated the assemblage at every halt.
Every eye was looking
eagerly for the heroine of the festival, -- that is to say, the black tulip, --
and for its hero in the person of the one who had grown it.
In case this hero should
make his appearance after the address we have seen worthy Van Systens at work
on so conscientiously, he would not fail to make as much of a sensation as the
Stadtholder himself.
But the interest of the
day's proceedings for us is centred neither in the learned discourse of our
friend Van Systens, however eloquent it might be, nor in the young dandies,
resplendent in their Sunday clothes, and munching their heavy cakes; nor in the
poor young peasants, gnawing smoked eels as if they were sticks of vanilla
sweetmeat; neither is our interest in the lovely Dutch girls, with red cheeks
and ivory bosoms; nor in the fat, round mynheers, who had never left their
homes before; nor in the sallow, thin travellers from Ceylon or Java; nor in
the thirsty crowds, who quenched their thirst with pickled cucumbers; -- no, so
far as we are concerned, the real interest of the situation, the fascinating,
dramatic interest, is not to be found here.
Our interest is in a
smiling, sparkling face to be seen amid the members of the Horticultural
Committee; in the person with a flower in his belt, combed and brushed, and all
clad in scarlet, -- a colour which makes his black hair and yellow skin stand
out in violent contrast.
This hero, radiant with
rapturous joy, who had the distinguished honour of making the people forget the
speech of Van Systens, and even the presence of the Stadtholder, was Isaac
Boxtel, who saw, carried on his right before him, the black tulip, his
pretended daughter; and on his left, in a large purse, the hundred thousand
guilders in glittering gold pieces, towards which he was constantly squinting,
fearful of losing sight of them for one moment.
Now and then Boxtel
quickened his step to rub elbows for a moment with Van Systens. He borrowed a
little importance from everybody to make a kind of false importance for
himself, as he had stolen Rosa's tulip to effect his own glory, and thereby
make his fortune.
Another quarter of an hour
and the Prince will arrive and the procession will halt for the last time;
after the tulip is placed on its throne, the Prince, yielding precedence to
this rival for the popular adoration, will take a magnificently emblazoned
parchment, on which is written the name of the grower; and his Highness, in a
loud and audible tone, will proclaim him to be the discoverer of a wonder; that
Holland, by the instrumentality of him, Boxtel, has forced Nature to produce a
black flower, which shall henceforth be called Tulipa nigra Boxtellea.
From time to time, however,
Boxtel withdrew his eyes for a moment from the tulip and the purse, timidly
looking among the crowd, for more than anything he dreaded to descry there the
pale face of the pretty Frisian girl.
She would have been a
spectre spoiling the joy of the festival for him, just as Banquo's ghost did
that of Macbeth.
And yet, if the truth must
be told, this wretch, who had stolen what was the boast of man, and the dowry
of a woman, did not consider himself as a thief. He had so intently watched
this tulip, followed it so eagerly from the drawer in Cornelius's dry-room to
the scaffold of the Buytenhof, and from the scaffold to the fortress of
Loewestein; he had seen it bud and grow in Rosa's window, and so often warmed
the air round it with his breath, that he felt as if no one had a better right
to call himself its producer than he had; and any one who would now take the
black tulip from him would have appeared to him as a thief.
Yet he did not perceive
Rosa; his joy therefore was not spoiled.
In the centre of a circle
of magnificent trees, which were decorated with garlands and inscriptions, the
procession halted, amidst the sounds of lively music, and the young damsels of
Haarlem made their appearance to escort the tulip to the raised seat which it
was to occupy on the platform, by the side of the gilded chair of his Highness the
Stadtholder.
And the proud tulip, raised
on its pedestal, soon overlooked the assembled crowd of people, who clapped
their hands, and made the old town of Haarlem re-echo with their tremendous
cheers.
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