Nothing could be straighter than the canal upon which our party were skating, and nothing straighter than the long rows of willow trees that stood, bare and wispy, along the bank. On the opposite side, lifted high above the surrounding country, lay the carriage road on top of the great dike built to keep the Haarlem Lake within bounds; stretching out far in the distance, until it became lost in a point, was the glassy canal with its many skaters, its brown-winged iceboats, its push-chairs, and its queer little sleds, light as cork, flying over the ice by means of iron-pronged sticks in the hands of the riders. Ben was in ecstasy with the scene.
Ludwig van Holp had been thinking how strange it was that the English boy should know so much of Holland. According to Lambert's account, he knew more about it than the Dutch did.
This did not quite please our young Hollander. Suddenly he thought of something that he believed would make the "Shon Pull"open his eyes; he drew near Lambert with a triumphant "Tell him about the tulips!"Ben caught the word tulpen.
"Oh, yes!" said he eagerly, in English, "the Tulip Mania--are you speaking of that? I have often heard it mentioned but know very little about it. It reached its height in Amsterdam, didn't it?"Ludwig moaned; the words were hard to understand, but there was no mistaking the enlightened expression on Ben's face. Lambert, happily, was quite unconscious of his young countryman's distress as he replied, "Yes, here and in Haarlem, principally; but the excitement ran high all over Holland, and in England too for that matter.""Hardly in England, *{Although the Tulip Mania did not prevail in England as in Holland, the flower soon became an object of speculation and brought very large prices. In 1636, tulips were publicly sold on the Exchange of London. Even as late as 1800 a common price was fifteen guineas for one bulb. Ben did not know that in his own day a single tulip plant, called the "Fanny Kemble", had been sold in London for more than seventy guineas.
Mr Mackay, in his "Memoirs of Popular Delusions," tells a funny story of an English botanist who happened to see a tulip bulb lying in the conservatory of a wealthy Dutchman. Ignorant if its value, he took out his penknife and, cutting the bulb in two, became very much interested in his investigations. Suddenly the owner appeared and, pouncing furiously upon him, asked if he knew what he was doing. "Peeling a most extraordinary onion," replied the philosopher. "Hundert tousant tuyvel!" shouted the Dutchman, "it's an Admiral Van der Eyk!" "Thank you," replied the traveler, immediately writing the name in his notebook.
"Pray, are these very common in your country?" "Death and the tuyvel!" screamed the Dutchman, "come before the Syndic and you shall see!" In spite of his struggles the poor investigator, followed by an indignant mob, was taken through the streets to a magistrate. Soon he learned to his dismay that he had destroyed a bulb worth 4,000 florins ($1,600). He was lodged in prison until securities could be procured for the payment of the sum.} Ithink," said Ben, "but I am not sure, as I was not there at the time.""Ha! ha! that's true, unless you are over two hundred years old.
Well, I tell you, sir, there never was anything like it before nor since. Why, persons were so crazy after tulip bulbs in those days that they paid their weight in gold for them.""What, the weight of a man!" cried Ben, showing such astonishment in his eyes that Ludwig fairly capered.
"No, no, the weight of a BULB. The first tulip was sent here from Constantinople about the year 1560. It was so much admired that the rich people of Amsterdam sent to Turkey for more. From that time they grew to be the rage, and it lasted for years.
Single roots brought from one to four thousand florins; and one bulb, the Semper Augustus, brought fifty-five hundred.""That's more than four hundred guineas of our money," interposed Ben.
"Yes, and I know I'm right, for I read it in a translation from Beckman, only day before yesterday. Well, sir, it was great.
Everyone speculated in tulips, even bargemen and rag women and chimney sweeps. The richest merchants were not ashamed to share the excitement. People bought bulbs and sold them again at a tremendous profit without ever seeing them. It grew into a kind of gambling. Some became rich by it in a few days, and some lost everything they had. Land, houses, cattle, and even clothing went for tulips when people had no ready money. Ladies sold their jewels and finery to enable them to join in the fun.
