Loving the Unloved: A 1640s Cob with a Story

In keeping with last week's relic theme, I show you one of my favorite pieces: an old crusty eight reales cob from high up in the Andes. This one was found on land; rare for these pieces since most of them come from shipwrecks. It is an old one too, as it has survived since the 1640s -- long after it should have been melted (as most cob coins were).
   This cob is a beautiful hunk of silver that was hammer-struck on a rough cut flan at the foot of a mountain of silver. The majestic peak, located in the colonial city of Potosi, was named Cerro Rico or "rich mountain" for its silvery veins.
   Potosi was a miserable place, high in altitude, causing headaches and nosebleeds. Miners took to chewing coca leaves (baked hard) just to ease the pain. But the silver -- glistening silver -- made it all worthwhile despite the altitude of 13,780 feet (plus another 1,900 feet on the slopes).
   The beautifully mottled sepia tones, with splotches of dark chocolate and hints of mint, give this piece authority. The colors look like the mountain. But more to the point, these salty deposits belies a tale of malfeasance at the mint.
   The evidence is clear: the cob is debased (less than the required 93% fineness) and just shy of its required weight of 27+ grams. Produced under the darting eyes of the on-site assayer, Pedro Trevino, it was a deliberate silver grab.
   Pedro worked at the mint from the late 1630s until about 1645 or 47. The cobs produced during his watch were marked with his monogram: an R with the crossbar of a T placed across the top. This TR is seen on the left side of the Hapsburg shield underneath the P that stands for Peru (or Potosi). Since the crossbar of the T extends both left and right, the cob is though by experts to be a later style from the 1640s.
   In a subsequent investigation by royal officials sent by the Phillip IV in 1648, it was decided to deport poor Pedro back to Spain where he met his end, dangling, at the end of a rope. Other corrupt mint officials were punished as well, and the whole coinage of Potosi was redesigned in 1652.
   And so, we have this beautiful cob as a testament to these events of three centuries ago. You just have to love the primitive nature of this piece -- haphazardly struck on an odd-shaped flan. And the corrosion -- oh sweet corrosion -- is the punch-line.

Loving the Unloved: Relic Coins are Evocative

A relic should look the part.

Green verdigris has built up on the surface, threatening to
swallow up stars and numbers, whereas copper oxides steal
electrons underneath. As the verdigris thickened,
it flaked off leaving a ruddy shadow in low relief.
This is the tipping point in the death of a lost cent.

   Old coins can be evocative, but relic coins steal the show. Unfortunately, most collectors have lost (or more likely, have suppressed) the sense of wonderment that pulls one to embrace a grounder that is coming apart.
   Yet, relic coins are beautiful because of this!
   More than a few essayists have noted that ruined edifices can be more beautiful than when new. The English poet John Dyer expressed this sentiment in 1746 in reaction to the ruins of Rome: "The triumphal arches are more beautiful now than they ever were, there is a certain greenness, with so many colors [that] add certain beauties that could not be before imagined."
   Later commentators, like Christopher Woodward in his sensitive book In Ruins, have remarked that the aesthetics of decay is more than just the colors; it is the struggle that is captivating.
   It is the conflict between man and nature -- when nature is winning -- that captures our attention, draws us closer, making it hard to look away.
   Yet, to some collectors, a relic coin is one to be avoided. Some collectors are even apologetic about having a coin that is corroded or damaged. Relic coins are just scudzy, and that is that.
   I don't think so.
   I have seen a many very fine 1818 cents, many with smooth fields, pleasing butternut tone, sharp details, and all the other trappings of youth (and/or a sheltered life): one in a hundred. Nice.
   But few pieces are as evocative as the one I show you today.

More on Sets: Part Three. Relics.

Adding battered and corroded coins to your collection will open up new avenues of exploration. This is the easiest way to put some necromancer principles into action.

Collection #1.   Nice CN cents of the Civil War era.

   Relic coins stimulate the imagination. How was it lost? Who lost it? Where was it found? We cannot answer these questions to our satisfaction, but we can ponder them. What better way to do so then to collect a few relics and create your own interpretation of how they could have been lost.
   We already do this. For example, many collectors imagine that their 1886 Morgan dollar could have been in a poker game in a smokey saloon, or that President Lincoln might have spent the 1860 "nick" that sits on your desk.
   But a lost coin that sat in the ground for decades or more, a lost coin marked with the corrosive badge of authority, is more evocative.
   A shiny cartwheel or mellow Indian cent brings little to the table but for the collector's bravado. We have heard it all before: "Look at what I got," and "It is VF super-plus," and "I paid less than what it is worth!" It that it? It this what the coins are telling you? Well, let's bring out the awards for Mr. Sharp Coin Buyer (Trumpets sounding).

Collection #2.   Relics from the Civil War era.

Maurice Rheims noted in his book, The Strange Life of Objects, that: "One of a collector's most entrancing daydreams is the imaginary joy of uncovering the past in the guise of an archaeologist." The necromancer collector whole-heartedly agrees. And to go further I would add: "Even the seemingly insignificant piece has the power to evoke grand images of the past." And furthermore: "Especially the seemingly insignificant piece!"
    So consider the following two collections: 1) a neat and tidy set of copper nickel cents from the American Civil War, all selected for their pleasant tone and moderate wear; or 2) a few beaten copper nickel cents, plus some larger coppers, all juxtaposed with a few relics dug from skirmish sites. Which collecting is the most exciting?
  

More on Set Collecting: Off the Grid

Collecting is about forming sets.
   In a previous posting, I challenged readers to consider breaking out of the mold set forth by coin folders and collecting guidebooks. The necromancer collector is all about collecting "off" the  book. Admittedly, collecting without a folder, moving beyond a series if you will, can be scary!
   Oh, I'm not scared. That's what you say.
   But why are you grasping the handrail so tightly?

A peek into a cash box secreted
away during the Civil War.
A collection?

   Consider this: Some scholars -- maybe philosophers is more apt -- have described the collecting process as ART. The collector creates something unique. No two collections are alike. Within each collection, objects are arranged to tell a story.
   What story? I knew you would ask this.
   Two stories actually. First, the collection is a representation of history or memory or fantasy (usually all three) that has personal meaning to the collector. A Civil War buff might focus on series that circulated during the 1860s: copper nickel cents, CW tokens, and silver trimes.
   Second, the collection reflects a timeline of the collecting process itself. As each coin is added to the set, the collector has discovered something new and added it to the collection. The best years of our lives are marked by a series of acquisitions. Also, our mindset is changing all the time such that new acquisitions reflect changing tastes, attitudes, and so on. Our Civil War buff might add an old pocket piece or love token to the collection because one was seen in a museum. Consequently, the collection is evolving, becoming more personal (as our imagined images of history evolve over time).

   Why would you want to play follow the leader by limiting your collecting to a folder? What does this say about you? And the art part? Well, it is like painting-by-the-numbers.

   I have heard more than a few seasoned numismatists reflect that eventually the true collector will end up seeking die-varieties, tokens, themes, and so on. Why is this? Because these avenues are off the grid. Such items have to be diligently hunted for (and sometimes not found). And, they allow more creativity in creating sets that reflect the personal taste of the collector. Next up, we will explore contextual collecting, as this gets us nearer to the embrace of the coin collecting necromancer.