There are 150 species of tulips, half of them wild, and thousands of varieties. They’re categorized in 15 groups, defined by characteristics like their size, bloom time, petal shape and color. During the renowned Dutch tulip festival called Keukenhof, from March to late May each year, you might get to see many of them, planted by the thousands like colorful blankets strewn across fields.
But there’s one kind of tulip you’re unlikely to see in these iconic fields: the broken tulip.
Broken tulips are the tragic beauties of the Tulipa flower genus. Afflicted by viral infections that alter pigments in the cells of their petals, the flowers bloom in patterns of flames and feathers.
The virus that creates these blazing beauties also kills them. The flowers wilt early, leaving behind little energy for the bulbs to use to develop, multiply or blossom. Broken tulips produce fewer bulbs that carry the virus from one generation to the next. And over time without care, the flowers disappear.
“It’s that last gasp of beauty before death,” said C. Edward Wall, the founder and curator of Hortus Tulipus, an attempt to collect broken and old tulips in the United States that was inspired by Hortus Bulborum, which preserves them in the Netherlands.
That’s why Mr. Wall planted his broken tulips a mile from the unbroken ones — and why broken tulips are illegal in the Netherlands without special provision. Planting them can spread the virus to unbroken tulips or lilies, which are also susceptible to the virus.
But there was a time when broken tulips weren’t illegal in the Netherlands; by contrast, they were highly prized. In 1576, Carolus Clusius, the botanist who essentially brought the tulips to Holland from their native home in Central Asia, was among the first to describe the “viral” flowers.
And by 1636, a rare tulip with petals of red and white stripes that flowed out like ribbons of peppermint candy became so popular that for the price of a single bulb, a person could purchase eight pigs, four oxen, 12 sheep (all fat), 24 tons of wheat, twice that much rye, two hogsheads of wine, four barrels of beer, 4,000 pounds of butter, a quarter that much cheese, a silver drinking cup, a pack of clothes, a bed (including mattress and bedding) and a ship, according to a pamphlet from the time. Its name was Semper Augustus.
This was the peak of Tulip Mania, the first modern economic bubble, which was fueled in part by an obsession with broken tulips. Today the Semper Augustus is gone, and a few broken varieties — Mr. Wall can name only three — exist in private conservatories. The streaked tulips of today that appear broken are most likely impostors, bred to look that way using basic genetics.
But on Saturday, you can get a view of some broken tulips, as judges determine the best-looking English Florist Tulip at the Wakefield and North of England Tulip Society’s 182nd broken tulip show. And it’s in settings like this that one can appreciate a broken tulip’s intricate blossom.
“You don’t plant them for mass, you plant them for close-up observation, because of their beauty,” said Mr. Wall, who cut his preservation efforts short after he began losing his eyesight to macular degeneration about a decade ago.
If you’re content with more traditional tulip displays, and just in time for Mother’s Day, you can find a grand tulip festival in another Holland — Holland, Mich. There, half a million visitors have started gathering this week for Tulip Time, where nearly five million tulips have been peppering lawns and parks in this small town. And you can catch a festival this weekend in Albany or the end of another in England, also organized by the Wakefield and North of England Tulip Society. (nytimes)
