It is difficult for the imagination to picture a piece of earth so brilliantly enamelled with flowers, and yet such variety and beauty in detail. The rarest and finest specimens are put apart from the rest in chosen spots, and these again are arranged in symmetrical order, with such taste and so unsullied and trim, that one can hardly believe Nature has been allowed any hand at all in the arrangement. The florist’s art seems to have triumphed almost too completely. Well, one may say the florists of Haarlem have played the predominant part, and their long experience, aided by the succours of reason, have shown them how to assist Nature by seconding her efforts, and thus to raise her to a stage beyond herself. In any case, the flowers they cultivate seldom reach such a high state of development elsewhere. However active and industrious they may be, no amateur, with all his talents, has ever reached to such surprising perfection—in strength and form of stem and blossoms; or to such brilliancy of colouring, though many possessing both talent and experience have spared neither trouble nor expense in their endeavours to produce the same result. They are inclined to attribute their want of success to the nature of their climate and the soil, and like to regard Haarlem as a place especially privileged in these respects.
If amateurs had any idea of the spirit of emulation rife among the Haarlem growers, and the way their whole attention is absorbed,—how unceasingly they labour and continually verify their experiments, always reflecting and improving upon them and making fresh combinations,—they would then know the work is not impossible, and they need only be endowed with the indomitable qualities of the Dutchman, and they might produce the same results.
There is no doubt that there exists, even in Haarlem, a sensible difference between growers of the first class and the more second-rate cultivators; for, although all are imbued more or less with the same spirit, and enjoy the same advantages of soil, climate, etc., yet some, through learning and experience, rise superior to the rest in this line.
If in other countries amateur growers kept more in touch with one another, and co-operated as do the Haarlem cultivators, there would be less occasion for despair. For a good deal of their success comes from their united efforts and experiments, so that among them all they have many ways of knowing how to preserve bulbs, to propagate them, and guard them from destructive accidents.
Nobody knows exactly where hyacinths come from originally—the name of the hyacinth called “Orientalis,” whose origin can be traced back till it is lost in the obscurity of ages—seems to imply that this flower originated in the East, and there has been much discussion about the fact that Moses in the book of Exodus speaks of the colour of the hyacinth—but whether he refers to it only as a colour, or as a flower, or as a precious stone, it is impossible to say—for it has been differently translated in various languages. Saint-Simon tells us that Dioscorides, in the time of Vespasian, describes a flower he calls “Hyacinthos” in these words: “L’Hyacinthe a les feuilles des plantes bulbeuses et la tige dodrantale (c’est-à-dire de trois paulmes, pans ou empans de haut, on n’est pas d’accord sur cette mesure non plus), faible, et plus mince que le petit doigt, de couleur verte, dont le haut s’incline sous le poids d’une tête chargée de fleurs purpurescentes.” People have argued indefinitely on the precise shade of “purple,” and to this day they have not decided if it should be more red than blue or more blue than red. The general opinion seems to be that the original hyacinth was the colour of the natural wild hyacinth (which is a Scilla?) which grows in the woods, where the red variety is not nearly as commonly found as the blue.
On the other hand, the first species may have been red, for in old fables it seems the hyacinth was thought to be red. Ovid relates how a flower sprang from the blood of the young Hyacinthus,[[2]] whom Apollo slew by accident with a quoit. Others, like Pliny and Pausanias, say the blood of Ajax, slain near Salamis, was changed into this flower.
[2]. Unless blue blood was spilt.
Whatever its original colour, and whatever country it came from, it is certain that many species have been produced by the florists of Haarlem, and have entirely originated in their gardens. Yet it is to be remembered that all came from the old original stock, however different they have now become. Their natural simplicity has been lost to a certain extent.