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Updated: September 16, 2025
Specious as this mode of reasoning might sound, it would not perhaps have taken so complete a hold of Boxtel, nor would he perhaps have yielded to the mere desire of vengeance which was gnawing at his heart, had not the demon of envy been joined with that of cupidity. Boxtel was quite aware of the progress which Van Baerle had made towards producing the grand black tulip. Dr.
When the evil spirit has once taken hold of the heart of man, it urges him on, without letting him stop. Thus Boxtel soon was no longer content with seeing Van Baerle. He wanted to see his flowers, too; he had the feelings of an artist, the master-piece of a rival engrossed his interest.
"Have you got the flower here?" said the Prince, who, very likely, already regretted having made such a long speech. "I am sorry to say we have not." "And where is it?" "With its owner." "Who is he?" "An honest tulip-grower of Dort." "His name?" "Boxtel." "His quarters?"
And thus Van Baerle was to have the most admirably fitted aspect, and, besides, a large, airy, and well ventilated chamber where to preserve his bulbs and seedlings; while he, Boxtel, had been obliged to give up for this purpose his bedroom, and, lest his sleeping in the same apartment might injure his bulbs and seedlings, had taken up his abode in a miserable garret.
Boxtel had not the good fortune of being rich, like Van Baerle.
Seeing this, the pigeons emigrated from the roof of Isaac Boxtel to that of Cornelius van Baerle. The nurse was a kind-hearted woman, who could not live without something to love.
The question, therefore, was how to wrest the second bulb from the care of Rosa. Certainly this was no easy task. Rosa watched over her tulip as a mother over her child, or a dove over her eggs. Rosa never left her room during the day, and, more than that, strange to say, she never left it in the evening. For seven days Boxtel in vain watched Rosa; she was always at her post.
That very night while Cornelius and Rosa rejoiced as lovers for now even Rosa was convinced of the prisoner's love for her over the happiness of the flowering tulip, Boxtel crept into her room, and carried off the black tulip to Haarlem. As for Van Baerle, he was beside himself with the rage of desperation when Rosa told him that the black tulip had been stolen.
Boxtel, from childhood, had been a passionate tulip-grower. He had even produced a tulip of his own, and the Boxtel had won wide admiration. One day, to his horror, Boxtel discovered that his next-door neighbour, the wealthy Mynheer van Baerle, was also a tulip-grower.
This was Boxtel, who had bribed the headsman to let him have Van Baerle's clothes, believing that he would thus obtain the priceless bulbs. Van Baerle was sent to the prison of Loewenstein, and in February 1673, when he was thinking his tulips lost for ever, he heard Rosa's voice. Gryphus had applied for the gaolership of Loewenstein, and had been appointed.
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