Reviewed by: The Great Mirror of Folly: Finance, Culture, and the Crash of 1720 ed. by William N. Goetzmann etal. Robert G. Walker The Great Mirror of Folly: Finance, Culture, and the Crash of 1720, ed. William N. Goetzmann et al. New Haven: Yale, 2013. Pp. xiv + 346. $75. We are told in the foreword that “this is a book about a book,” a massive and deliberate understatement. This is a very large and handsome book—quarto-size (12” x 9”) on glossy paper with 265 illustrations—that studies the first Great Mirror, a “stout folio” published in 1720 in Amsterdam: “bigger than its competitors, more lavishly illustrated. … It reached audiences across much of Europe—its texts and captions were translated into French, English, German, and (in some instances) Latin.” The catalyst and subject matter of the eighteenth-century work were the nearly simultaneous economic crashes that had just hit Europe (the Mississippi Company in France, the South Sea Bubble in Britain, and “a host of smaller joint-stock companies in various parts of Europe”). Of the sixteen essays in this collection, three approach the Mirror bibliographically; the others treat it in a historical (emphasizing the view of the financial world) or aesthetic context (discussing especially its numerous satiric prints). This book’s general appeal will lie, as the editors recognize, in a comparison of this early worldwide financial crisis with the Great Financial Crisis of 2008. The contributors follow the revisionist view of eighteenth-century bubbles advanced over the past few decades, namely that the negative impact of their bursting was overstated by contemporary and subsequent sources. It is tempting here to quote Harry Truman: “It’s a recession when your neighbor loses his job; it’s a depression when you lose yours.” Moreover, overstatement is a characteristic of political argument from which financial issues are never exempt. The consensus of the contributors is that the financial modernization that caused the crashes was a necessary, rather than an unfortunate, development. They repeatedly explain that both in Britain and in France government finances were in terrible shape before 1720 due to the expenses of the War of the Spanish Succession (1701–1714). In both countries, plans had been introduced to retire onerous government debt by exchanging it for common stock in government-chartered private companies. Tied to future profits from international trade, especially in the New World, the stock soared … for a while. Here, then, was an opportunity to draw perhaps the best possible parallel between the crises separated by 300 years. For the only necessary and sufficient cause for the 2008 crisis was not individual and corporate greed, nor the presence of new and poorly understood financial derivatives, nor malfeasance at the banks and rating agencies. All these causes were present, certainly, but were hardly sufficient without the federal government’s blatant manipulation of the housing market—accomplished in a variety of ways but especially in the unprecedented growth of government-chartered private companies like Freddy Mac and Fanny Mae. Readers of the Mirror in 1720 had their attention repeatedly directed through allusions to [End Page 181] lotteries and card-playing toward the gamble that frenzied investors undertook, with disastrous results. A handful of contributors quote the phrase “irrational exuberance,” popularized by Alan Greenspan in a speech in 1996 and not at all referring to or anticipating the 2008 crisis. They would have done better to quote Representative Barney Frank, from a congressional hearing in 2003: “I do not want the same kind of focus on safety and soundness [in the housing agencies that is present in other government agencies]. I want to roll the dice a little bit more in this situation toward subsidized housing.” Despite this missed opportunity to reveal the highly visible hand of government intervention in causing both crashes, there is much of interest in this volume. In “Playing Games with the Financial Crisis of 1720,” Jeroen Salman explicates the April Card, an uncut sheet of 52 playing cards that appeared in the Mirror. Starting with the association of stock trading and frivolous gambling, the April Card develops an amazingly intricate series of connections between the cards and the results of the crash. For instance...
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