Turk, Turban, Tulip and Dragon

There used to be a great many kinds of dragons in the world. Anybody

who looks at the old pictures, images, and decorations, or reads the

stories of long ago, can see this.

There were bad dragons and good dragons. Some, like those that lived in

China and Japan, had no wings; but very long tails. The Wyvern, or

Scotch dragon, had two tails, like the Belgian lion, but the dragons in

Turkey made up in wings what they lack in tail.

A long time ago, there was a Belgian crusader, a Fleming, who got

acquainted with a dragon of most respectable character, that lived near

Aleppo, which was one of the famous cities of the Saracens. This was a

water-dragon, named Buccoleon (buc-có-le-on), that lived in the river

near by, though sometimes, when it wanted to go on a picnic, or enjoy

the company of the hill dragons, it flew into the mountains.

The Turkish water dragons were great friends of those fairies that

lived in the clouds, and had much to do with the showers and heavy

rains, that make the flowers grow.

A great many caravans passed through Aleppo. These brought the tea,

ivory, silk, and spices from the countries in the Far East, where the

sun rises. These, they sent from Aleppo, by sea, to Antwerp, one of the

greatest seaports in the world. The camels did not, of course, require

much rain water, for they only took a drink about once a week. When

they did, however, they made up for it, with their long necks, by

tasting the water all the way down; that is, for about two yards. On

the other hand, when they had a cough, it was awfully troublesome, to

have six feet of sore throat. So the good dragons pitied the camels,

and were always kind to them.

It was necessary for the river dragons to keep on good terms with the

hill dragons and cloud fairies; for, without rain, the river would dry

up. Then the dragon, that lived in the water, would have no place to

board, or to lodge, or even to wash in, for the river was its bath tub.

This river dragon was a peaceful creature and did not like war. In

fact, among its fellow creatures, it was known as the Weeping Dragon,

because it cried so much. Whenever there was a battle between the

Belgian crusaders and the Saracens, this dragon wept great tears. Each

tear, in volume and amount, was equal to a bucket of water. Why should

men, the dragon thought, chop and hack each other to death, because one

carried a crescent on his banner, and the other sewed a red cross on

his coat, over his armor? After every bloody fight, this river dragon

used to go over the fields where the men from Belgium were buried, and

drop a tear over each grave. Then it mopped its eyes, with a great

bandana handkerchief, because the Flemings had died so far from home.

Now a bucket full of tear-water, falling on each burial spot, changed

the sandy soil into fertile ground, and thereupon up sprang a new

flower.

This novelty in the plant world looked like a cup, held by its stem. It

rose up, in the air and sunlight, and was very rich and varied in

color. All the hues and tints, of the other buds and blossoms, seen in

the gardens that lined the river banks, seemed to unite in this one

flower, as if everything good in the dead man had come to life again in

bright colors. On some days, when, in the early morning, the sunlight

struck the dew drops that lay on these flowers, each one looked like a

crown set with costly jewels.

Now a certain Belgian soldier, a Fleming, whose home town was Ghent,

and who was a florist, by profession, noticed this splendid new flower.

His name was Theophilus; but they called him Taff, for short. From the

first, his hope and ambition, in going to the East, had been—if he were

not killed while fighting the battles of the cross, or if he did not

die of fever, or from the terrible ulcer, they called the “Aleppo

button”—to take home a floral souvenir from the Turk’s country. He knew

that all the little boys would be expecting to see him come home loaded

with trophies, captured from the Saracens; but the strange flower would

also show where he had been, and through what adventures he had passed.

The Pilgrims to Jerusalem always carried home a scallop shell; but he

intended to surprise the Ghenters with something prettier.

What better than the spirit-flower, or memorial blossom, which sprang

up, where the weeping dragon had shown its grief? In fact, Taff thought

of naming it “the Dragon’s Tear.”

But when he thought of the bad reputation of dragons in his country, he

feared that all the Ghent folk would laugh at him and say that a

dragon’s tears were no better than a crocodile’s. Besides, the idea of

weeping was not a cheerful one, nor did it tell of the victories of the

cross and the crusaders. What then should be a proper name for the

flower?

While pondering this question, Taff looked out and saw two big Turks

quarreling. They called each other all sorts of bad names. Finally one

cursed his enemy, saying:

“May you wear a hat in the next world!”

And the other retorted: “May your turban fall into a pig-sty!”

Now these, with the Turks, were the same as horrible oaths. It was

against the law for Saracens, as it is for Turks, to wear a hat. All

faithful followers of the prophet cover their heads with a turban, and

any one, who does not thus protect his head, is looked on as a vile

sinner. To let one’s turban fall among the pigs, is the greatest

misfortune.

Whether it be a fez, that is, a round, red cap, with tassel on the top;

or seventeen yards, of white muslin, or red damask, or green silk wound

round one’s head, every disciple of the prophet must wear a turban. If

it be not neatly wrapped, a man is apt to be called a Bashi Bazouk, or

“rotten head.” All sorts of honors, and offices are denoted by the

folds, colors, or methods of folding or wrapping the turban. Or, in the

case of cleanliness and smartness on the one hand or dust or

slovenliness, on the other, words of praise or nicknames, and low and

vulgar terms, may be applied.

The tassel on the top is the handle, by which the good believer is

lifted, by the angels, into Paradise!

When Taff noticed the variety of rich colors, and the beauty of the

fashion of the Saracen headdress, he decided to name the new flower the

Turk’s turban.

Now the word for this is tulipan, or tulip, for short. Thereupon Taff

collected the seeds of this turban flower and when the war was over, he

brought them to Flanders and planted them in his garden. Soon he had a

tulip farm, and then orders came in, from all parts of Europe, for this

wonderful flower.

The women did not care very much for the tulip, because it is not as

well fitted, as are violets, or roses, or sweet peas, or honey suckles,

for corsage bouquets, or to put in their hair. Moreover, in the

language of flowers, it had neither poetry, nor message, nor meaning,

like the pansy, for instance.

On the contrary, as the young ladies say, the men “adored” the tulip

because of its bright colors. Every man, who had been a crusader,

planted it in his garden, to remind him of the Saracens, whose heads he

had cut off in battle; or, to tell, his sons and neighbors about the

terrible warriors he had met and fought with.

This was necessary, for all the small boys were disappointed, whose

fathers did not bring back a scimeter, a spear, a shield, a javelin, a

real turban, a pair of turkish slippers, a harem shawl, or some other

trophy, to show that they had really been to the wars. In fact, some of

them expected their daddies to return with a string of Turks’ heads at

the saddle.

So the tulip was called a man’s flower, and Taff got rich, by selling

the bulbs. Then he cultivated many varieties, with new shapes and

colors. It got to be the fashion to buy these, for every one wanted to

show off the new hues and tints, the streaks and spots, and the flaming

colors, and hoped to beat his neighbor with the most astonishingly big

blooms.

At one time, it seemed as if the whole world had gone crazy over

tulips. Thousands of dollars were paid for a single bulb, or even for a

tulip in flower, which would lose its petals in a few hours. Every day

the Bourse, or money market, was crowded with merchants and brokers;

who were buying bulbs and plants, without ever seeing one of them.

Prices were announced from distant markets, by means of signals given

on the windmills. Some men had tulips on the brain. They sold all they

had, chairs, tables, beds, dishes and even clothes, to buy tulips, red,

yellow, blue, or black.

But wise men called all this madness, and even talked of “wind trade.”

Soon the excitement died down, and the market fell as flat as a ship’s

sails on the mast, when there is not enough breeze to flap them.

There was another Fleming, a returned crusader, whose first name was

Isaac; but they called him Nyken for short. This man was a potter by

trade. He was so pestered by the small boys who wondered why he hadn’t

brought back two or three Turks’ heads, that he was at his wit’s end to

explain and answer their questions. So Nyken hid himself away,

resolving to get rich from what he had learned about turbans. Not

having any garden, he could not raise flowers, so he made up his mind

he would make tulips out of clay, and get rich, even faster than his

neighbor Taff, who was an old bachelor; while Nyken had a wife, and

three daughters, all highly accomplished.

So Nyken mixed his clay, got his potter’s wheel ready, loaded his

palette with paints, and then set to work, with his “vrouw en

kinderen”; that is, his wife Bab (or Barbara) and his daughters three,

Beck, Beff, and Jin (that is Rebecca, Elizabeth, and Joanna). These

fine girls had all been well educated in the public schools, which

were, even then, the glory of the Netherlands. They kept everything

secret until the market day.

Then, to the surprise of the whole town of Ghent, Nyken’s stall and

shelves blossomed out like a bed of tulips. There was his fat wife,

whom he called Bulb, for a pet name, and his three blooming daughters,

whom he called his Tulip blossoms.

First in demand, was the turban-dish, or “Turk’s Head,” for baking

apples, and pot pies, and cakes, and macaroni. This was made of

earthenware.

Then there was hard, shining glazed ware, in many forms and for many

uses, cups, saucers, vases and flower-holders. These were made into the

form of the flowers themselves, or were decorated with tulips of many

tints; besides those which were black, yellow, and red, the colors of

the Duke of Brabant and of the Belgian flag.

What pleased the young folks, more than all else, was the bust of a

Saracen. This was a copy of a real Turk, with a turban on his head. His

hair was black, and his face swarthy. His mouth was wide open, as if

ready for some one to throw a pill down his throat, which he should

swallow, without chewing it.

This was called “The Gaper,” and was instantly popular with the

apothecaries, who made the pills and sold them in boxes at a high

price.

On the very first day, Nyken and Bulb had sold out their whole stock,

and the three girls, Beck, Beff and Jin had already, in their minds,

selected the new dresses and lace collars, which they intended to buy.

Soon, all through the Netherlands, there was a “gaper” over every

druggist’s shop. New medicines, and strange-looking bottles and boxes

were seen on the counters.

There were “Saracen Sure Cure for Corns,” “Buccoleon Liniment,”

“Dragons’ Elixir of Life,” “Palestinian Pills,” “Tulip Cure-Alls,”

“Thousand-Years-of-Life Syrup,” “Crusaders’ Balm,” “Dragon-Scale

Plasters,” “Oriental Ointment,” and a hundred other remedies.

Meanwhile, what had become of the Aleppo dragon?

It turned out, just as the fairies and hill dragons had predicted;

that, as soon as the war was over, and peace came, this dragon’s eyes

would dry up. Then, the energy, that was so long wasted, as they

thought, on tears, would excite this dragon to travel, and then, also,

the dry ground would turn no more into flowers. Instead, the stream of

tears would strike inward, and all of a sudden, the dragon’s scales

would become gold.

It happened just so, and soon Buccoleon’s skin was a mass of golden

scales.

Hearing that the Flemings had done such wonders, with the turban

flower, and the turban pottery, the dragon was filled with admiration

and envy. He wanted to fly at once to Flanders, and see things. He had

learned, rather to like Crusaders, but when further, a traveler told

the dragon about the Turk’s Head, made of earthenware, for cooking, and

the Gaper, for the medicine shops, Buccoleon laughed so loudly, that

people in Aleppo thought it thundered.

But alas for men’s treachery!

There was always so much envy and jealousy among the guilds in Ghent,

that riots sometimes broke out. Then the bells called out the people to

put down the rioters, and do justice to all.

Just at this time, as Buccoleon, the Aleppo dragon, was flying toward

Flanders, the goldsmiths of Ghent were almost savagely envious of both

Taff, the florist, and Nyken, the potter. When they heard of the coming

flight of Buccoleon, they posted archers on the high towers, and these

shot to death the good water dragon of Aleppo.

The greedy goldsmiths expected, with hammers and chisels, to pry off

its scales and sell them! They wanted to get rich quickly, like Taff

and Nyken.

These bad men were awfully disappointed. For when the people heard of

what they had done, they rushed into the belfry of the tower. Some of

them climbed up the three hundred and seventy-six steps, and rang the

great bell, making a terrific clangor.

Forthwith, all the citizens assembled, in the great square, to hear

Taff and Nyken tell what this good dragon had done, and how its tears,

over the dead Crusaders, had been turned into tulips.

It was voted unanimously that the highest honors should be paid to

Buccoleon, the dragon. So, with ropes and pullies, and a strong

scaffold, they raised a mighty tackle on the tower, while the

blacksmiths made the iron weather vane. On its pivot, they set the

Aleppo dragon, which was ten feet long. Now, when it came to dragons,

Ghent could glory over Brussels, and the Boringue.

Flashing golden in the sun, high in air, near the clouds, while far

below, in the rich fields and gardens, the tulip spreads beauty on

earth and wealth to the Netherlands, Buccoleon, the dragon, on top of

the great belfry, turns to all the winds that blow.