The Netherlands, Anno Domini 1637

It was a perfectly normal day in the life of Jan van Leeuwen. Not at all the sort of day on which you'd suspect that someone would demand to search your arse for hidden tulips. But there you go, that's life in Amsterdam for you.

Our story begins perfectly harmless. It was a beautiful summer afternoon, and Jan was just returning from a trip to the countryside, looking forward to seeing his sister and little niece again (though may be not so much brother-in-law) when he came upon a little cottage by the roadside. In front of the cottage, garden full of beautiful tulips stood in full blossom, and birds chirruped in the trees.

"How beautiful!" exclaimed Jan, who had always been something of a nature-lover. He loved and admired most of the things he didn't have a hope of understanding, and among these nature ranked third. Children ranked second, and ladies first.

Approaching the garden, he bent over the hedge to sniff at one of the tulips-a beautiful, deep red specimen that smelled intoxicating. Temptation tugged at his nose.

He hesitated. Yes, it was a beautifully kept garden, every flower kept in pristine condition, but surely the owner wouldn't mind if he took just one flower? Just a single one?

Reaching out, he grasped the tulip by its stem and picked it, just as the door to the cottage swung open and a burly with a large ruff around his neck stepped out.

Crack!

The breaking of the tulip stem echoed through the garden like a gunshot. The burly man's eyes zeroed in on Jan, and bulged. In a flash, his hand darted through the open door into the cottage. When it was withdrawn again, it held a pistol, ready and loaded.

"Tulip-thief!" he bellowed. "Die! Die, you miserable villain!"

"Aaah!"

Jan threw himself to the ground just in time to avoid being torn to shreds by a massive leaden bullet. Whizzing over his head, it disappeared into the distance. Jan felt something light against his cheek. Feeling with his fingers, he found the separated heads of three more tulips, torn away by the deadly projectile.

"Raaaah!"

The mad bellow of the garden-owner shook him from his paralysis and sent him jumping to his feet.

"You!" The burly man was pointing a quivering finger at him. "It's all your fault! Four of my most beautiful Semper Augustus destroyed, because of you! A vandal! A vagabond! A tulip-murderer!"

"I assure you, Sir that I meant no harm," Jan said, hurriedly. "I only..."

"Klootzak! Schavuit!" the man bellowed, followed by considerably worse Dutch expletives. Jan opened his mouth to defend himself again, but then he noticed that the man had started re-loading his pistol, and it occurred to him that it might not be a good idea to stick around until he was finished.

"Well..." Chewing on his lip, and nervously looking from left to right in case there were any more madmen lurking about, Jan began to retreat down the road. "If you don't need me anymore, I'll be going now, I think. I mean... I can see you're very busy, growing tulips, killing passing strangers, must be a busy life, ahahahaha."

"Stop! You stop right there! Tulip-killer!"

Another shot rang out. Jan ducked, feeling it shoot over his head, and reached the safety of a little clump of trees just in time. The third bullet thudded into a tree not two feet left of him. Jan didn't stop. Only when he was well into the trees, hidden from the sight of the shooting maniac, and the man's shouts had faded into the distance, did he allow himself to slow down and lean panting against the tree, the picked tulip still clutched in his hand.

"Thank you, Lord," he breathed, when he got to his feet again a little bit later. "Thank you for letting me survive this."

Slowly, he started walking again.  In the distance, he could see smoke curling beyond the trees, and it comforted him. Soon! Soon, he would be home again, and this terrible event would be forgotten. Out here in the countryside there might live a few crazy people, but at least home in Amsterdam, people were normal.

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Jan had to revise this opinion the moment he stepped through the city gates.

"What the...!"

Colours assaulted his eyes like an invading army. He stopped in his tracks, staring at the first house that had caught his eye. It was surrounded by innumerable blossoms, in pink, white, red, purple and every other possible colour. He could hardly see the house for all the tulips. What he definitely could see, however, were the giant signs sticking out from between the flowers. One read "Keep Out!" the next "Trespassers shot on Sight!".

Maybe it's nothing. Maybe it's a family of madmen, one living in the country, the other at the city gates.

That explanation held together for about two seconds. Then, Jan's eyes slid over to the next house.

"Beware of the Dog!" the sign at the gate said, right in the middle of a giant bed of violet tulips. "Beware of the Venomous Snakes!" proclaimed the next sign, followed by "Tulip-Theft Punished by Death!" and "Beware of the Crocodile!".

Well.... Maybe it's a large family of madmen. Maybe... maybe...

He looked at the next house. And the one after that, and the one after that. Tulips. Tulips. More and more and more tulips. And signs. There was one "Death to Tulip Vandals", another "Trespassers Shot on Sight!" and one "Warning! Armed Guards!"

A moderate individual, maybe of the legal profession, had decided on "All Tulip Thefts shall be Prosecuted!" whereas an obviously religious gentleman had chosen "May the Wrath of God Pursue All Who Dare to Touch my Tulips!"

"What in the name of the all that is holy is going on here?" Jan whispered.

A dog barked in the distance. Other than that, he heard no answer to his question. It was late in the day, and getting dark. Almost no one was out in the street. Before any of the tulip-fanatical madmen that lived around here could storm out of their doors, guns blazing, Jan hurried deeper into the city.

Please, God, he prayed. Please, let there be some sane people left in this city!

He didn't meet many people on the way. The only ones he passed were the ones out in their gardens, tending to their flowers with rake, fertilizer, and gun in hand. That didn't exactly increase his confidence in the sanity of the inhabitants of Amsterdam.

When he saw the sign, he breathed out a sigh of relief. It wasn't the "Keep Away from My Tulips or You're Dead"-kind of sign. No, it was the sign announcing that he was crossing the main street. That meant he was approaching his sister's home.

At least here, he could count on people being normal!

The thought had barely left his mind, when an arm shot out of a dark alley to his left. A hand grabbed his collar, and he was pulled into the alley and smashed up against a wall. Cold steel dug into skin, and looking down, he saw the barrel of a gun pressed the side of his neck.

At the other end of the barrel was a masked man who didn't look very open to the idea of pacifism.

"You there!" the man growled. "Your tulips or your life!"

"W-what?"

"Your tulips, Klootzak! Or I'm going to put a nice hole in your belly!"

"I... I don't have any tulips."

"Ha! They all say that!"

"They do?"

"I know your game, Mister! You rich bastards all pretend not to have a single blossom on you! But the moment you feel cold steel, you start pouring out your price-winning Semper Augustus!"

As if to emphasize his words, the man shoved his pistol harder against Jan's throat. Jan made a gurgling noise and reached up instinctively - which made the masked man notice the tulip he still held clutched in his hand. Jan had completely forgotten it.

"Ah-ha! I knew it!" Shoving Jan away, the stranger grabbed the tulip. Stepping back, he raised his gun. Before Jan could even think to react, the muzzle flashed with a bang and Jan's hat was ripped from his head and hurled into the gutter.

"Let that be a lesson to you," the tulip-robber told him. "Next time, if you don't come out with the goods right away, I'll take your head off instead! I own this part of town, and every tulip in it!"

With that, he turned and dashed off, disappearing into the growing dark. Jan just stood there, listening to the sound of running feet of people who must have been attracted by the gunshot, staring blankly. All right. He had to admit it. Maybe this was more than just a local spontaneous insanity.

"Sir? Sir, are you all right?"

Looking around, he saw the figure of a city guard hurrying towards him.

"Oh, thank God!" Letting out a breath of relief, Jan collapsed against a house wall. "Thank God you're here, officer! I've just been robbed by a madman."

"Bloody he-" self-consciously, the guard clapped his hand over his mouth. Then he lowered it again. "I'm sorry for my language, Sir, but here? In the middle of Amsterdam? And it's not even quite dark yet!"

"I know. That's what I thought."

"Did he take anything valuable? Should I pursue him?"

"No, don't trouble yourself, officer. But thank you."

"Here." The young guard put his arm under that of the older man, supporting him. "You must have suffered a terrible shock, Sir. Let me help you to that bench over there, so you can sit down and rest."

Jan smiled. Finally! At last he had come across a sane and respectable individual. If all else failed, you could still rely on the officers of the law.

"Thank you, officer. How very kind of you."

He let himself be escorted towards the bench. Once there, the young guardsman spread his coat out for Jan to sit on, and took seat beside him, announcing his firm intention not to leave until Jan had recovered. What a very nice, considerate young man. And so wonderfully sane.

"By the way, Sir," the city guard asked, "may I ask what was stolen? I need it for my report."

"It's strange." Jan shook his head. "I was wearing fine clothes, a golden ring on my finger, and I have a purse with over twenty coins in it, both silver and gold, but he wanted none of that. All he wanted was some silly flower I had picked in the country. A tulip."

"A tulip?" The guard sprang up as if stung by a scorpion. "You brought a tulip into the city? Did you declare it at the city gates?"

Jan blinked up at him in confusion. "Declare it? What's there to declare about a tulip?"

"Answer me, Sir!" The Guard's hand came to rest on the pommel of his sword. "Did you pay the tulip duty? The blossom tax? The stalk and stern levy?"

"What? I have no idea what you are talking about!"

The young guard's eyes narrowed. Suddenly, he didn't seem quite so friendly anymore - or so sane.

"I see. Very suspicious. Do you have other tulips to declare, Sir?"

"Certainly not! I haven't got any tulips anywhere! I don't know what all this fuzz about tulips is! They're just some bloody kind of flowers, for God's sake!"

The guard drew himself up. "I'm afraid I cannot take your word for it, Sir. Since you admitted to bringing illegal tulips into the city limits, I am required to search you. Please be advised that if any illegal flowers should be found on your person, you can face up to two years of imprisonment."

Jan said something in reply to this which was neither very flowery, nor very complementary. The guard was not impressed.

"Stand against the wall, your arms and legs spread, Sir. Now!"

The search that followed produced a purse of coins, three pieces of string, a spare coat button, a bit of bread and cheese wrapped in a fresh handkerchief, and a pipe with a pouch of tobacco.

"There, you see?" Jan huffed. "No illegal flowers whatsoever. Now, may I continue on my way?"

"I don't know..." The guard frowned, suspiciously. "Tulip-smugglers these day are very clever. I've seen them hide their commodities in all sort of strange places. Maybe I should search a bit more thoroughly."

And he gestured to Jan's backside. It took the esteemed hero of our story a moment to figure out the meaning of the gesture. When he did, his cheeks turned red.

"Officer, whatever you may think of me, I am not in the habit of carrying around tulips concealed up my...Well I'm not! Never! Never, ever! Do we understand each other?"

"Nevertheless, would you consent to me putting on these gloves and searching your-"

"It'll only take a couple of minutes, Sir."

"No! No, no, and no, I said! I'm a law-abiding citizen, I will not consent to that. Unless you want to throw me into prison for some strange floral reason, I'm leaving now. Good bye!"

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"...and then he wanted to stick his hand up my... up my...." Jan shook his head, shuddering. His sister Emma patted his hand, and held out a tea-pot towards him.

"Poor Jan! A little more tea?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Sugar?"

"Yes, three lumps."

A small freckled face appeared next to Jan, at about waist height. "Up your what, Uncle Jan?" asked his niece Isa. "He wanted to stick his hand up your what?"

Jan nearly spewed all of his tea across the room. "Never you mind!" he coughed. "It's not a word little girls like you need to know."

"But I'm going to school! I have to learn all sorts of words!"

"Not that one!" Jan assured her.

Isa slunk away, disgruntled, to find something more interesting to do. Jan, meanwhile, turned back to his sister.

"So, what is all this about tulips? Why has the whole city suddenly gone insane?"

"Insane?" his brother-in-law scoffed before Jan's sister could even open her mouth. "People haven't gone insane, Jan! They're making money! Pots and pots of money! You've been stuck in the country so long that you've nearly missed the biggest opportunity that has come around for decades. It started a few months ago. The price of tulips just suddenly started rising. After a while, people started realizing that they shouldn't waste their money by investing in trade or manufacturing. Instead, they just started growing tulips, buying and selling ground for tulips to grow on, speculating on tulip growth-rates... It's a gold-mine, I tell you! An absolute gold-mine!"

"Your brother-in-law has stopped working at his butcher's shop," Emma said Jan, quietly. "He now spends all his time growing tulips in the garden."

"Growing tulips? But you're a butcher!"

"So what?" Emma's husband shrugged. "I can make much more money growing tulips."

"You're selling the tulips? And people pay money for them?"

"Selling?" The answer was a derisive snort. "Of course I don't sell them! The prices for tulips rise constantly! I'll make much more money if I plant the seeds, grow more tulips, and sell them in a few years." The brother-in-law tapped himself knowingly against his nose. "You see, I am man of forethought and vision."

"But... if you don't sell the tulips now, and you don't work in the butcher's shop, how do you make a living."

"Oh, Emma has taken a part-time position," he said, airily. "Just to tide us over until my grand scheme comes through. Then we'll be rich as Croesus."

His wife sent him a look that made Jan suspect that she did not entirely agree with this prediction.

"By the way," the brother-in-law continued, "There's something I wanted to talk to you about, Jan. Those three fields you own, not too far outside Amsterdam..."

"Yes?"

"They would be perfect for growing tulips, wouldn't they?"

"Would they?"

"Yes, they would! The ground is just right, and if the weather is right we could grow thousands upon thousands of tulips!"

The brother-in-law's eyes began to gleam disturbingly like gold coins. Jan nervously edged away from him.

"One average tulip alone is worth as much as I earned in the last two years combined, Jan! Just think how rich we'll be! The richest men in all of Amsterdam! We could live like kings!"

"What if I don't want to live like a king?" Jan ventured.

"Don't be a fool! Those fields are ideal for tulips!"

"But... there's wheat growing on those fields. We can't just cut that down simply because you want to grow some flowers. Farming country is scarce, and people can't eat tulips!"

"Rubbish! There'll always be plenty to eat. We'll import it. We'll have more than enough money if we only sell enough tulips."

Jan looked at Emma. Emma looked at Jan. They shared a moment of brotherly/sisterly understanding.

"I'm sorry," Jan said, "but I'd still like to grow wheat on those fields, if it's all the same to you."

This was by no means the end the argument. The brother-in-law tried to talk Jan around for hours and hours and hours. But for once in his life, Jan remained firm. He liked tulips, but he also liked wheat, and people with full bellies. Finally, the brother-in-law gave up.

"How you got as bloody rich as you are if you never take the slightest little risk is beyond me!" he growled. "Well, all I can say is, don't come begging when I've made my fortune and yours has gone down the drain! Tulips are the future! You'll see!"

Making a diplomatic answer to this, Jan said good bye to his sister and niece, and left. He felt it was time to return to his own home in Amsterdam and see how things stood there. He had just remembered that before he had left for the country, his gardener had planted tulips in the front garden. Somehow, Jan had a nagging feeling that all things might not be rosy at home. Or tulippy, for that matter.

Ten minutes later he stood in front of his house - or rather, what was left of it. The front garden had been dug up, all the tulips ripped out, and even the earth carried away, presumably to fill somebody's window box. All the windows of his house were broken in. The door had been ripped from its hinges and lay on the floor, in splinters. Someone had painted the enormous image of a tulip in gross red stripes on the west wall.

Swallowing, Jan turned around and strode back the way he had come, towards the city gates. Maybe it would be a good idea to spend a few weeks in his country house.

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It took a month for Jan to even consider going back to Amsterdam. It took another to start packing his bags. And when they were finally packed, he decided he didn't really liked the way they were packed, and unpacked them again.

"What's another month, anyway?" he mumbled, carefully folding an embroidered waistcoat. "Best to keep those excitable townspeople some time to cool down."

When he finally arrived at Amsterdam, he stuck his nose as carefully through the gates as a rabbit would stick its nose into a wolf den - if rabbits ever were stupid enough to do such a thing. He waited a moment. No masked robbers or madmen with guns sprang out to grab him. Breathing a sigh of relief, he stepped into the city.

The next moment, a dark figure sprang out of an alley to his right and grabbed him.

"Ah!"

"Sir, Sir! Please, Sir listen to me!"

Jan stumbled back, and the man raised his hand to wave something in front of his face. At first, Jan thought it was a gun - but guns weren't this bright or this colourful.

"Please Sir!" A smarmy little hand grasped Jan's arm, and the colourful thing in front of his face was moved even more energetically. Now Jan realized what it was - a bunch of tulips! "Please Sir, buy just one! My wife and children are starving! Please! Buy just one so I can buy some bread. Only one copper piece for you, Sir! Please!"

Jan opened his mouth. "Um..."

"All right!" Tears started running down the man's face. "Just one copper piece, all right? Please, buy just one little tulip! My grandchildren are starving two, and my cousins, and sisters, and my dog, and my sister-in-law's two cats! Please, Sir I'm begging you!"

Jan cleared his throat. "Yes, yes, of course I'll buy it. I wanted to bring my niece home something pretty anyway. Here you are."

"Thank you, Sir!" The man fell on his knees, and began kissing Jan's hand, leaving large dirt stains everywhere. "Thank you, thank you, thank you! You have saved my life! And my wife, of course! And my children, grandchildren, cousins, sisters, dog, and my sister-in-law's two cats!"

"Um... yes. All right. Here's your money. Now, could you please let go of my hand?"

"Yes, of course, Sir! Here's your tulip, Sir! And God bless you for your gracious generosity!"

On his way to his sister's house, Jan managed to dodge seventeen further people who tried to sell him tulips of various shapes, colours and sizes. When he finally reached the door that promised safety, he started knocking on the door like a woodpecker determined to build himself a luxury villa.

"Emma! Emma, let me in! It's Jan!"

A moment later, the door opened, and there stood his brother-in-law: not in a gardening outfit, but, as Jan noticed, in his butcher's apron.

"Jan!" exclaimed the man of the house. "Dear Lord, where have you been? It's been months since your last visit! And while you were away... It's unbelievable. You'll never guess what happened."

Jan threw a look over his shoulder at the neighbour's house. Tulips were shrivelling in the front garden, and a sign over the door proclaimed: Foreclosure sale: next Wednesday.

"I think might have an idea," he said.

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"It's simply unbelievable," the brother-in-law repeated, shaking his head. They were sitting at the table, sharing a pot of tea. "The bubble burst, just like that. One moment tulips were getting more and more valuable every minute and everyone was buying, and then people suddenly started selling for some reason."

"So strange," remarked Emma his wife, lifting an eyebrow. "I mean, if everyone would just have kept buying, everything would have been perfectly fine and we'd be rich right now."

"Exactly!" the brother-in-law nodded, mystified by the mistrust of humanity in the worth of tulips. "I lost all my tulip investment! Thank God that Emma had hired someone to keep the butcher's shop going. I have no idea why she did it, I mean, she can't have thought that my brilliant plan was going to fail, but she did, and I must say I'm thankful for it. If it weren't for the shop, we'd be starving right now, like all the other poor blokes who've been wiped out."

"Still," Emma sighed, "we can't really get enough meat to butcher. Corn and meat are dreadfully scarce right now, since every pasture and field was converted for growing tulips. Times are hard."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Jan said, reaching out to take her hand. He gave her an encouraging smile. "But... as you know, I have some small connections in the food trade. I could ask around, see if someone could spare a few pounds of meat for a good price."

His sister's eyes lit up. "Oh Jan, would you?"

"For my little sister? Of course I would."

"Oh Jan! Come here!"

There was a good deal of siblingly hugging. When they finally broke apart, Jan gestured to his little niece, who was busy untying knots in her doll's hair.

"Isa? Come here, I've got something for you."

"A present?" The girl sprang up and ran forward, with the eagerness of all greedily little children.

"Yes. Here." And Jan stuck the tulip into her doll's hair, where it glowed like a golden crown. The little girl squealed with joy, and started dancing around the room.

The brother-in-law gave a derisive snort. "What did you give her that for? It's worthless!"

Jan smiled. "My apologies. Next time, I'll bring her back a sack of wheat instead."

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My dear Lords and Ladies,

Yes, it is a historical fact: the first great financial crisis of world history wasn't a stock market crash or an inflation, it was a tulip market crash. This story idea about the events that crushed the economy of the Netherlands in the late Middle Ages has been wandering around in my head for some time, and considering it's about tulips, I thought it would be just the right thing for Easter ;-)

I hope my Easter surprise has been to your taste?

Yours Truly

Sir Rob