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Updated: May 24, 2025
And general applause came from the crowd. "This tulip will henceforth bear the name of its producer, and will be called Tulipa nigra Rosa Baerttensis, because Van Baerle is to be the married name of this damsel," the prince announced; and at the same time he took Rosa's hand and placed it within the hand of the prisoner, who had rushed forward at the words he had heard.
"This prisoner," he said, "is a man whose name in itself will prove to your Highness what trust you may place in his probity. He is a prisoner of state, who was once condemned to death." "And his name?" Rosa hid her face in her hands with a movement of despair. "His name is Cornelius van Baerle," said Boxtel, "and he is godson of that villain Cornelius de Witt."
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.
The third day after the theft Gryphus, armed with a stick and a knife, attacked Cornelius, calling out, "Give me back my daughter." Cornelius got hold of the stick, forced Gryphus to drop the knife, and then proceeded to give the gaoler a thrashing. The noise brought in turnkeys and guards, who speedily carried off the wounded gaoler and arrested Van Baerle.
Chance, or rather God, for we can see the hand of God in everything, had willed that Cornelius van Baerle should happen to hit upon one of these very pigeons.
The healthy pastime of tulip growing became, under these conditions, a morbid and evil occupation for Boxtel, while Van Baerle, on the other hand, totally unaware of the enmity brewing, threw himself into the business with the keenest zest, taking for his motto the old aphorism, "To despise flowers is to insult God."
The judge summed up with the following dilemma: "Either Cornelius van Baerle is a great lover of tulips, or a great lover of politics; in either case, he has told us a falsehood; first, because his having occupied himself with politics is proved by the letters which were found at his house; and secondly, because his having occupied himself with tulips is proved by the bulbs which leave no doubt of the fact.
"If they take me to Dort," thought Cornelius, "I shall see, in passing my house, whether my poor borders have been much spoiled." Wherein the Reader begins to guess the Kind of Execution that was awaiting Van Baerle The carriage rolled on during the whole day; it passed on the right of Dort, went through Rotterdam, and reached Delft.
He bequeathed his three tulip bulbs to Rosa, explained how she must get a certain soil from Dordrecht, and went out calmly to die. On the scaffold Van Baerle was reprieved and sentenced to perpetual imprisonment, for the Prince of Orange shrank from further bloodshed. One spectator in the crowd was bitterly disappointed.
He foresaw his neighbour's success, and he felt such a pang at the mere idea of this success that his hands dropped powerless, his knees trembled, and he fell in despair from the ladder. And thus it was not for the sake of painted tulips, but for real ones, that Van Baerle took from him half a degree of warmth.
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