jason.zweig
"Arlequyn Actionist," engraving, from "Het Groote Tafereel der Dwaasheid," The Great Mirror of Folly, 1720
After stock markets in Amsterdam, Paris and London collapsed almost in unison in 1720, revulsion against the speculative mania was widespread. This engraving shows securities being "distributed" through defecation and flatulence, vividly symbolizing what the public thought of the bankers and brokers and the stocks that had been sold -- and unforgettably capturing the double entendre in the Dutch term "windhandel," or air-trading, often used to describe short-selling and dealing in futures contracts.
Originally the frontispiece for an early edition of Pieter Langedijk's comic play of the same name that debuted in October 1720, the print is composed like a theatrical stage, with the curtains being drawn aside by a stockbroker, or "actionist," dressed as the character Scaramouche (on the left) and an "arlequyn" or harlequin (on the right). But the startling number of people swarming out of the background is probably meant to shock the viewer; since no theatrical stage could hold such a large crowd, the artist forces us to ponder whether he is putting the audience -- including us -- onto the stage.
In the center foreground, a wealthy fop stoops down to gamble against a monkey; for centuries, apes had symbolized greed and trickery (see mad.hypotheses.org/172). At the top of the frame, an owl -- which in the 17th and 18th century represented not wisdom but folly -- holds the title banner and anchors the swags of vegetables that swing across the upper edge. The huge bulbous objects are cabbages -- then, as now, a synonym for "the head," particularly an empty one. A sign on one of the buildings in the background, just to the left of center, reads: KOOL TE KOOP ("Cabbage for Sale").
On the stage-within-a-stage that dominates the center right of the image, two well-dressed financiers pour a sack of coins into a funnel jammed into the gullet of a securities distributor. In turn, he bares his buttocks and defecates paper certificates, "issuing" them in a flurry that wafts over the crowd below him. The seething mob of speculators surges forward, each desperate to get in on the windhandel; one elegant gentleman is about to club a woman over the head to keep her from getting ahead of him. In the center foreground, two junior financiers assist in the distribution; as they bend over to scoop up heaps of coins with both hands, they thunderously break wind ("Z-Z," "Miff").
The sign in the background reads QUINCAMPOIX, a coffeehouse in Amsterdam (see www.rijksmuseum.nl/nl/collectie/RP-P-OB-83.500) named after the street in Paris that was a center of securities trading. One certificate in the foreground is engraved VIANE[N], the town in Holland that was exempt from the bankruptcy laws that applied elsewhere in the Dutch republic; "to go to Vianen" meant "to go bankrupt."
Rijksmuseum, www.rijksmuseum.nl/en/search/objecten?q=actionist&p=1...
"Arlequyn Actionist," engraving, from "Het Groote Tafereel der Dwaasheid," The Great Mirror of Folly, 1720
After stock markets in Amsterdam, Paris and London collapsed almost in unison in 1720, revulsion against the speculative mania was widespread. This engraving shows securities being "distributed" through defecation and flatulence, vividly symbolizing what the public thought of the bankers and brokers and the stocks that had been sold -- and unforgettably capturing the double entendre in the Dutch term "windhandel," or air-trading, often used to describe short-selling and dealing in futures contracts.
Originally the frontispiece for an early edition of Pieter Langedijk's comic play of the same name that debuted in October 1720, the print is composed like a theatrical stage, with the curtains being drawn aside by a stockbroker, or "actionist," dressed as the character Scaramouche (on the left) and an "arlequyn" or harlequin (on the right). But the startling number of people swarming out of the background is probably meant to shock the viewer; since no theatrical stage could hold such a large crowd, the artist forces us to ponder whether he is putting the audience -- including us -- onto the stage.
In the center foreground, a wealthy fop stoops down to gamble against a monkey; for centuries, apes had symbolized greed and trickery (see mad.hypotheses.org/172). At the top of the frame, an owl -- which in the 17th and 18th century represented not wisdom but folly -- holds the title banner and anchors the swags of vegetables that swing across the upper edge. The huge bulbous objects are cabbages -- then, as now, a synonym for "the head," particularly an empty one. A sign on one of the buildings in the background, just to the left of center, reads: KOOL TE KOOP ("Cabbage for Sale").
On the stage-within-a-stage that dominates the center right of the image, two well-dressed financiers pour a sack of coins into a funnel jammed into the gullet of a securities distributor. In turn, he bares his buttocks and defecates paper certificates, "issuing" them in a flurry that wafts over the crowd below him. The seething mob of speculators surges forward, each desperate to get in on the windhandel; one elegant gentleman is about to club a woman over the head to keep her from getting ahead of him. In the center foreground, two junior financiers assist in the distribution; as they bend over to scoop up heaps of coins with both hands, they thunderously break wind ("Z-Z," "Miff").
The sign in the background reads QUINCAMPOIX, a coffeehouse in Amsterdam (see www.rijksmuseum.nl/nl/collectie/RP-P-OB-83.500) named after the street in Paris that was a center of securities trading. One certificate in the foreground is engraved VIANE[N], the town in Holland that was exempt from the bankruptcy laws that applied elsewhere in the Dutch republic; "to go to Vianen" meant "to go bankrupt."
Rijksmuseum, www.rijksmuseum.nl/en/search/objecten?q=actionist&p=1...