his pocket as a companion to his herring. He then left the store and proceeded to his ship and his breakfast. Hardly had he left when the merchant missed his valuable Semper Augustus bulb, worth $1400. The establishment was soon in an uproar, for the valuable root had just been brought in that morning, and had been noticed by many. After every clerk had been examined, and had declared his innocence, one of them remembered to have seen the sailor drawing his hand away from the pile of roots and putting it in his pocket. The merchant instantly started for the door, and hurried down to his vessel. The first thing he saw was the sailor sitting on a coil of rope eating his breakfast. No sooner had the merchant sprung on board and advanced toward him than the sailor put the last bite of onion into his mouth, and leaned forward to hear what the owner had to say. He sternly denied stealing any tulip, but admitted he did take one onion, "but it didn't have much of the taste of an onion either." The merchant, as he turned away, told the astonished sailor that "it would have been cheaper for him to have breakfasted the Prince of Orange and all his court."
Another story of an English traveler is not less ludicrous. This gentleman was an amateur botanist, traveling to perfect himself in the study of his favorite science. Happening to see a large tulip root on a stand in the conservatory of a wealthy Dutchman, he quietly took out his penknife and began to peel off its coats; for he too took it for an onion, and wanted to discover of what species it was. After he had peeled off half its coverings, he cut it in two to inspect the heart. Just at this moment the old gentleman who owned the conservatory and the bulb turned round to see his precious root cut in two. Seizing the Englishman by the collar, he shouted out, "Do you know what you are about?" "Certainly; I am peeling an onion—a most extraordinary onion too." "Extraordinary!" said the Dutchman. "I should think it was. Why, Sir, it is an Admiral Von der Eycke." "Is it?" replied the Englishman, taking out his pocket-book to note down the name. "And are there many onions of this kind in your country?" The Dutchman could stand it no longer. He instantly forced the Englishman out of his grounds, and led him to the syndic, followed by a great crowd. Here the Englishman was arraigned and tried for stealing and cutting up one tulip worth $1600. The magistrate found the evidence sufficient (especially as the Englishman admitted that he did take and cut up something), fined him $1600, and imprisoned him till the fine was paid.
The demand for tulips of rare species continued to grow till 1636, when it reached its height. Regular marts for their sale were opened on the Stock Exchange of Amsterdam, and at Haarlem, Leyden, and other places. Symptoms of gambling and of time sales soon became prevalent every where. Stock-jobbers, ever alert for new subjects of speculation, dealt largely in tulips. As in all speculative movements, at first every thing rose and every body gained. Tulip jobbers gambled on the rise and fall of bulbs, making large profits by buying when prices were low and selling when they rose. Many individuals grew suddenly rich. It was believed that this mania for flowers was to spread to other lands, and that the wealthy of all nations would send to Holland for tulips, paying whatever prices horticulturists might ask. Holland was expected to be the tulip market of the world, and the riches of Europe were to be concentrated on the shores of the Zuyder-Zee. Nobles, citizens, farmers, mechanics, footmen, and even chimney-sweeps dabbled in tulips. Houses and lands were offered at ruinously low rates that their proceeds might be invested in bulbs that were expected to return a golden crop. To a certain extent the mania did spread beyond the borders of Holland, and money began to flow in from all directions. The prices of the necessaries of life rose, and houses and lands, horses and carriages, and luxuries of every sort rose with the rise of tulips: all commerce rested on a flower bed. So extensive were the operations in roots that it became necessary to draw up a code of laws for the guidance of dealers. Notaries and clerks were appointed, who devoted themselves exclusively to the interests of the tulip trade. In the smaller towns, where there was no exchange, the principal tavern was usually selected as the show place, where high and low traded in tulips, and confirmed their bargains over a good dinner. These dinners were sometimes attended by two or three hundred persons, and large vases of tulips in full bloom were placed at regular intervals along the tables and sideboards.
At last prudent people saw that this could not last forever. Even the wealthy could no longer afford to keep up with the rise of commodities. It was evident that prices must soon fall; and this expectation hastened the crisis. The suspicion became a panic, and every body began to sell, and prices to fall. The difficulty was not only in the actual sales and purchases, but in the purchases on time, which, like all such purchases, were speculative gambling. A suit of law the following year developed the fact that one A had agreed to purchase ten Semper Augustuses from B at $1600 each, flowers to be delivered and prices paid in six weeks. The bargain was made just as prices were trembling in the balance. Before the six weeks had expired every thing was
- Vol. LII.—No. 311.—48
