“Cast of Characters,” written primarily by Martin (with contributions by Dubin and Viljoen), draws on the theatrical dimensions of the Tafereel and consists of twelve vignettes that spotlight historically and iconographically representative figures, a literary device that allows the authors of Meltdown! to use a variety of rhetorical styles and weave numerous threads and secondary sources together succinctly and efficiently.

Martin sets the stage skillfully with her sketches of the three main characters: “John Law, or, The Gambler,” “Madame Law, or, Madame Compagnie,” and “The Banknote.” In the first vignette she observes that the formal portrait of Law as controller general that is often found at the beginning of the Tafereel is not just an exercise in self-promotion. It accords Law’s System the gravitas of a religious framework, a parallel easily (and often) missed, in spite of the presence of the Eucharistic symbols identified by Dubin in the first chapter. Martin also relies artfully on little-known examples of medals and tobacco boxes that reference Law’s portrait to reveal what prints often hide, most notably the human costs of the exploitation of the New World. Such objects, she rightly notes, also bring to light “how truly far the bubbles spread as a multimedia event” (53).

In the second vignette Martin analyzes two almost identical 1720 engravings by Claude Duflos: Winter, after Rosalba Carriera, and Madame Law. She pays close attention to the iconography of the prints, shown side by side, and invites the reader to linger on the two images. She then places the prints in the larger context of the participation of women in the bubble economy.

“The Banknote” is a first-person narrative told from the point of view of a banknote. Inspired by eighteenth-century it-narratives, this third vignette highlights the close ties between literary and visual representations of the bubbles of 1720. It also accentuates the fictional nature of the new economy and the sense of wonder, magic, joy, and possibilities the bubbles generated. Additionally, it introduces an important and enjoyable counterpoint to the gloom cast by many Tafereel prints.

Taken as a whole, “Cast of Characters” underscores the many complexities involved in interpreting bubble prints and the value inherent in studying the Tafereel from the perspective of art history. Dubin’s multilayered contextualization of “Fortuna,” a central icon of the Tafereel, is a case in point. Her ancient association “with the waxing and waning of the sea” points to the importance of global trade (90). Her sensuous appearance explains why the credit on which global trade depends came to be gendered as female. In addition, Fortuna’s association with the ancient and modern tropes of female seduction and betrayal allowed Picart to signal almost casually in the Monument that there is a relatively simple explanation for the otherwise unaccountable folly of 1720: the fickle—that is, “female”—nature of economic and artistic signs.

In the last chapter, “Collecting in Vain: Fools, Cons, Devils, and Dupes in ‘The Great Mirror of Folly,’” Viljoen contends that the print section of the Tafereel does not consist, as is frequently assumed, of disparate images that happen to be tied thematically to the events of 1720. Instead, she argues, one should think of the Tafereel as a curated collection, or recueil. Specifically, she demonstrates that the Tafereel evinces a clear “partiality for compositions that evoke [Hieronymus] Bosch, [Pieter] Bruegel, and [Jacques] Callot” (115), who, more than other earlier artists, would have been associated by eighteenth-century connoisseurs with the kind of carnivalesque, scatological, and detail-filled scenes showcased throughout the Tafereel. The latter include many representations of worthless shares floating in the wind, which echo the frequent depictions of throngs of visually undifferentiated investors. In addition, given the extent to which Bosch, Bruegel, and Callot were known to have participated in an economy of piracy and counterfeiting, the pervasive borrowings from this trio of artists found throughout the Tafereel reenact the many kinds of frauds investors engaged in and fell victim to.

Meltdown! Picturing the World’s First Bubble Economy succeeds brilliantly in introducing the bubbles of 1720 and their iconography to readers who may not be familiar with them while also offering interpretations that enrich specialists’ understanding of the contributions made by visual and material culture to our knowledge of a pivotal moment in economic and world history. The Tafereel was ostensibly conceived as a “warning to posterity.” By contrast, Meltdown! invites readers of this captivating volume and, hopefully, future visitors to the companion exhibition (titled Fortune and Folly in 1720 and, as of this writing, slated to be on view in fall 2022) to celebrate the rich visual culture of the first bubble economy and its ongoing relevance.