When a coin is chosen for the collection, it is chosen for its power to speak. True collectors are creating a narrative. As I have said many times before, each coin plays a unique role in the story that the collector is telling.
With old coins, this role typically has a historical bent, but it can also have an artistic, or in a few cases, an obsessional bent (the latter occurs in cases when the collector is searching out every variation or completing arbitrary date and mint runs). As a necromancer, I can tell you that history is the prominent theme that is explored in this blog, but all of the aforementioned facets drive us forward in our quest. For example, among my many interests, I collect ships. In particular, I like sailing ships on coins and tokens that were actually made during the age of sail (history). But, I choose only the ships that I find beautiful (artistic). Plus, I have a notion of how to define the boundaries of the set (completion).
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| A common Flying Eagle Cent is enough to spark an imaginative flight into history. This is how an old coin can possess transcendent properties. It is the way of the necromancer to pinch a penny at an old country store. |
Hopefully, you are sensitive enough to hear your coins speak -- too often, collectors are distracted by investment potential and market valuations. Alternatively, many collectors do not spend enough time with the coins that they already own, thereby losing track of what they have. Either way, these distracted collectors are lost.
So what are the transcendent properties of marvelous coins? Three aspects come to mind. First, the coin represents a real piece of history. The coin was there! An old coin is like a "low-tech" time machine. We are fascinated with an object that was used by others long before us. We cannot quite see the fingerprints of others, but we can see (and feel) the wear and tear. This is why circulated coins are celebrated in this blog -- this is history (a shiny new coin is mute). A worn, battered, or corroded coin is like a deeply lined, aging face: we are captivated and cannot look away.
Second, the coin does something to us. It stimulates our imagination about the past. If we are well-read, our imagination may reflect the books we have read; if not, our imaginings will be all over the place. But who is to say that one collage of images is more accurate than another? And does it matter? After all, history is mostly imagination anyway. We cannot go back.
And don't be fooled by high-minded historians, as they cannot go back either. They simply don't know that much. After all, we only have a few recollections and some rusty artifacts to go by. And who is to say that the words of a Prince or a statesmen or a pauper have more or less validity? And so, we are left with a few coins and our imaginations.
Third, the coin sparks a deeply rooted fear of our own oblivion (at least on earth). We are enamored by objects that have outlived our forefathers and mothers. Ruins, rusty pots and pans, yellowed documents, and worn, battered and corroded coins are symbols that cut deeply -- in a Freudian way -- into our sense of who we are. No wonder that every community seems to have a historical district, or that every collectors talks about the history and agedness of their coins. Some folks choose primitive tools, some choose ancient artifacts, and we choose coins.
So you see, coins allow us to transcend the bounds of our fleeting lifespans. They allows us to imagine previous times as if we were there with coin in hand. We animate our coins with all sorts of spirits that rise up from between rims. Yes, old coins (once collected) possess transcendent properties.
