amations, 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 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 d