Old Sails: More Ship Pennies

Lovers of old sails usually have a small flotilla of ship pennies from Nuremberg in their collections. These pieces are charming with a distinctive medieval look, so I find it hard to resist stopping at just one. These are old pieces dating in the late-1500s. Also alluring, there are many different varieties.
   Last April we saw the typical cog ship found on these jettons (known as type1). This time, we explore a more unusual design with a bit more flourish that is scarce to rare (known as type2).
   Ship pennies were popular in their heyday, particularly in France wherein a cog ship was part of official Arms for seafaring towns and cities (Paris and Nantes, for example). In fact, cog ships found their way into the Arms for many ports that were part of the Hanseatic League in northern Europe. No wonder there was a market for these pieces in the late sixteenth century. Keep in mind that jettons were still widely used as counters.
   The type2 cogs have a distinctive sail that billows out to the left. We see the port side (bow to left), as the vessel is on a port tact. This is a more realistic design than found on type1 jettons. Both Hans Krauwinckel I and Hans Schultes produced type2 ship pennies. I don't know if Hans Krauwinckel II produced them or not, as I have not seen one and Mitchiner does not illustrate one. By the way, the spelling of the name differentiates between the two nephews: Hans I spelled his name with one "n" whereas Hans II used two "n"s (Hans and Hanns Krauwinckel).
   Pictured, we have a very nice piece from Hans Krauwinckel who worked until about 1580 (at left). The darker one is from Hans Schultes who worked until about 1612 (at right). As you can see the cog ships are similar at first glance, but the closer you look, the more they differ. Both jettons are made of a brass alloy and struck on razor-thin planchets. Both pieces share a similar reverse of four fluers-de-lis in a lozenge.
   Hans Krauwinckel's piece depicts a deep, bulbous hull, clinker-built with high gunwales, much like the hulks of the era (so maybe it is not a cog after all). Hulks were trading ships designed for freight at the expense of maneuverability. The forecastle is small and open, whereas the gabled-roofed stern castle  appears more elaborate. The sail is large with pennant atop the mast (blowing in the opposite direction). Two stars -- perhaps for navigation -- are seen fore and aft. The legend reads: SCHIF+PFENING+NVRENBERG (translation: Ship Penny Nuremberg). Of note, Hans put his name on the reverse.
   Hans Schultes' piece shows a thin hull with less depth and little difference between the fore- and stern castles, both open (or just styled as such). As before, the planking is bold (clinker?) with high gunwales. The sail is slender, narrowed at bottom, and tilting aft. The pennant crosses the inner border into the space above (also blowing back). The stars are replaced with floral ornaments. Overall, the design is simpler and crudely done. The legend reads: HANS+SCHVLTS+NORNBERG (translation: Hans Schultes of Nuremberg). What you cannot see is that Schultes' jetton is thinner than the earlier one -- a cheaply made piece.
   Typically, these pieces were sold in tubes of 25 or 50 for "counting" purposes. The Orb and Cross designs were the most common of all Nuremberg jettons, with the type1 ship pennies coming in a distant second. The type2 pieces pictured above tend to be scarce. Of the hundred plus jettons found at Jamestown in Virginia, none of them were ship pennies -- too bad, we could have combined collections. In any case, be on the lookout for these billowing sails.
 

The Awful Allure of a Shipwrecked Piece of Eight. Part 1.

Relics rarely come "better" than a piece from a shipwreck. Today, we explore a Spanish-Colonial piece of eight that was recovered from the Hollandia. It has an "awful" charm born of a violent end.
   The Hollandia was a heavily-armed Dutch trader, measuring about 150 feet with nearly 40 guns (accounts differ). It was a built for the Verenigde Oostindische Compagnie (VOC) or Dutch East India Company for the Far East Trade. The proud ship left Texel on its maiden voyage on the third of June 1743 with a fleet bound for the Indian Ocean by way of the African Horn. But as Neptune
would have it, the ship barely made it out of the English Channel.
   On the thirteen of July, the vessel lost touch with the fleet, and with cannons firing in distress, the ship smashed into Gunner Rock near the Isles of Scilly, off the southwest coast of England. All hands were lost. VOC records revealed that the ship was laden with 129,700 guilders (about one ounce of silver each) lost to the sea. Most of the coins were Spanish-Colonial eight reales fresh from the Mexican mint with the rest primarily made up of Dutch ducatons -- a few cobs were also in the mix.

Mexican Piece of Eight from the Hollandia: A perfect relic.

   The treasure was found in 1971 by Rex Cowan after several years of research and underwater scouting. Dan Sedwick -- a prominent dealer and expert -- has reported that some 35 thousand coins have been retrieved. He rated the availability of such pieces (for collectors like us) as moderately scarce but available.
   I acquired this beautiful 1741 pillar dollar over a decade ago. This piece is striking with a pea-green patina that blends to gray near the rims. The details are sharp, softened slightly by the washing of a salty sea. A few nicks and an old scrape remind you where it came from. What an "awful beauty" (as Charles Dickens would say). It is can be admired for its art and tragedy all at once.
   We are fascinated by the death of our fellows, even when separated by centuries -- if for any other reason, to learn something that might help us avoid a similar fate. We mourn, and we prepare.
   Shipwreck coins -- all relics, actually -- evoke this dire fascination, this charm. The charm, of course, comes from the fact that the coin survived. It is a real piece of the action, and unlike so many other relics that are mysterious, once we know the story, the object screams. This piece of eight is immutable. You cannot examine it without thinking about those desperate mariners, frantically cutting sails and firing canons.
   Of course, relics are always about loss, decay, and death. Even if we do not know the storyline, the drama is the same: a piece was lost, and maybe a life. This is why we are so intrigued. Shipwrecked pieces have the added punch (in the stomach) of a known death toll and a storyline that ends badly.
  This is what relics are all about. The necromancer is acutely sensitive to this. The term relic means that which is left after loss and/or decay. A secondary meaning suggests that a relic is linked unequivocally to the past. But it is the archaic meaning of relic that is of most importance here: a relic is a piece within which the living dead among us still dwell. The mariners. This is all that is left of them -- a tenuous grasp on immortality, made possible by the sensitivities of the necromancer coin collector.
   Next time, we will explore this connection further.

Lost Cents, Dead Owners Book

I have treated myself to a new book. But I had to write it.
   I have often wondered why we do not have a numismatic literature akin to other realms of antique collecting. That is to say, a literature that explores the secret lives of objects (in this case coins) and our emotional attachment to them. With all the time, effort, and money that folks pour into their collections, I am surprised that we have not developed an introspective perspective.
   Sometimes we get snippets. William Sheldon comes to mind: He wrote about the joy of fingering through a box of large cents on the kitchen table. He described an idyllic scene of "making out the big cents." Sheldon also waxed poetic about the charm and beauty of an aged cent. It appears that he once appreciated the encrustations of corrosion with a childlike wonderment. Others have followed with reflective remembrances of their own, but few have explored the topic in any depth.
   Instead, the collecting literature has been dominated by guidebooks filled with rarity ratings and valuations. Sometimes we get heroic tales of folks seeking, finding, and eventually selling great numismatic rarities: so-called adventures with rare coins. This is fine; I enjoy these snapshots too. But why is there no literature on the intrigue that we all must have felt when we first held a worn and battered coin that was older than us, older than our fathers, older than our grandfathers?

Here is the proof for the cover. LCDO is examines our reactions to relic
coins and explores the corrosion processes that make these coins evocative.
Also provided are some guidelines for collecting them, but no grading or pricing.

 
   This was the book I wanted to read. I have found solace in other places however. For example, archeological studies -- if you can find a great writer like Ivor Hume -- can enliven any coin dug from historic dirt. Also, there is a generic collecting literature -- most quite dated -- that ventures into the limbic system of the devoted collector; here, I am thinking of Maurice Rheims and the Rigbys. So too, the museum studies group has produced some insightful gems about how old objects speak to us, many of them penned by Susan Pearce. All good stuff.
   But what about the collector who enjoys a common coin that looks its age and comes from the hands of regular folks who toiled long and hard to make a living? This is a coin whose only significance is that it survived. This, too, is history in your hand. Yet, few books are devoted to the complex mix of emotions that a battered coin evokes.
   Sometimes I find myself reading books about ruins and dug relics to get my fix on the remarkable charms of battered, old coins. Many of us can explore a ruined farmstead all day long. After all, a collapsing roof is evocative. So too, is the rusty nail that might be found on the ground whereat nature squeezed it out of the planking. And, a coin -- perhaps the only one from this site -- is just cause for celebration. It is a find! Unique. And, way cool!
   Where is the book about these coins?
   Well, I wrote it. It has been burning in me for several winters.
   This book explores the impact of relic coins on our psyche. It is a slim volume of 80 pages that will provide a nice weekend read by the fire. The coins are presented in full color on broad 8.5x11 pages with many provocative pieces that come from years of honing an aesthetic for relics.
   You cannot read this book without it changing how you view collecting. Non-collectors are likely to find it interesting too. I gave it a provocative title to separate it from all the guidebooks that dominate the numismatic landscape. It is called: Lost Cents, Dead Owner: Appreciating Coins in Decay. 
   Yes, it is time to change your perspective. The book will be available soon.
 

Collecting Coins is NOT Rational: Part 1.

Collecting coins is not rational. Never was. And, this is not just for necromancers, either.
   We like to think of ourselves as guided by rationality. Not true. Psychological science has weighed in on this long ago: we make irrational judgments and decisions every day. Yet, we believe that we carefully consider data before making important decisions. And, sometimes we do. But most of the time, NOT!
   Coin collecting -- all collecting, really -- is (was) never rational. In this series, I will tell you why.
   Of course rational pleas surround us. CDN publishing tries to sell us "the most important numismatic investment you can make" by hawking its greysheets and bluesheets. Bowers and other (pro-market) luminaries emphasize the "good buys" that can be discovered in a few minute details (extra feather anyone?). Plus, there are commentators who envision an "all-seeing, all-knowing" rational collector (see the "Market Whimsy" column in The Numismatist).
   I do enjoy reading all of this. But all this talk is wrong-headed.
   They confuse market-minded, investment-oriented attitudes with those of the true collector. Yes, coin collecting for most folks is about supply and demand -- the smart buyer is king (or as Heritage titles their magazine, The Intelligent Collector). So sad.
   I must be kind and allow that there is nothing wrong with being a collector-investor. No one wants to feel like they are throwing their money away. And, no one wants to feel duped by a wheeler-dealer (who really is in it for the dollars). It is true that many "collectors" enjoy the marketplace and revel in telling how they nabbed a rare coin for a pittance.
   Let's be clear however, pure collecting is antithetical of investing. They do not go hand-in-hand like new lovers looking for a secluded space. It might be the case that pure collecting is an ideal never truly achieved, for who has not stumbled on, and purchased, a rare item for the sole purpose of trading it later. This is the apple that sends us out into the cold.
   Why are we shivering? Why do so many folks get mad when the U.S. Mint does not sell them ready-made rare coins for which a profit can be turned before they arrive in the post? Yes, this anger is the latest perversion of coin collectors who have lost their way! Poor souls.
   The necromancer has no sorrow for those folks whose frontal lobes have been scrubbed with promises of investment bliss. Numismatic heroism is not what it used to be. Instead, it is about "beating" the Redbook and gyrating in the end zone. Is this rational? Probably not, but it pretends to be.

Now back to my original point: If pure collecting is irrational, then what does this mean? Are pure collectors (i.e., those intrinsically motivated) as silly as the so-called rational folks looking for a deal?
   Here is the short answer. Pure collecting is irrational because it is all about the magic. And magic is not rational.
   Let's break it down. True collecting is about ascribing meaning to an object, moving it out of the realm of the useful and into the realm of the symbolic. As such, it is deeply personal. This transition from the useful to the symbolic is a creative act. It is about making (or finding) meaning in your life. There is nothing rational about that! Consider this: a chain cent means completely different things to different collectors -- ten collectors, ten different meanings! Each collector has a specific reason for wanting one of these wonderful cents.
   None of this is lost on the necromancer who tends to search for meaning in relics that were used -- heavily so -- and thereby hold the spirits of all who touched it. Any hint of acquisitiveness dampens the flame.
   Of course, we must learn to tolerate some dampening, as most relics have to be purchased nowadays. Not all of us have shovels at the ready. So money (and some assessment of value) has to be reckoned with. So be it.
   With this intro, I will list five irrational qualities of the true collector. Coming up.