Old Sails: Ship of Paris on Beat Jeton.

Old ships from the sixteenth century never fail to captivate me.

This one has just the right look for a necromancer: it was held, passed around, put away, and taken out again. The surfaces are warmly colored with daubs of red, orange, and yellow -- the last rays of a setting sun. The ship is highlighted where worn. The porous fields disperse the light. Yes, it is beat. But beautiful.

In the late 1600s, a jeton like this was one of the few ways a land-lover could enjoy the marvel of a a fully-rigged ship. This was the Age of Discovery.

Nuremberg Jeton with Ship of Paris, late 1500s.

The main and aft sails are billowing in the wind, whereas the foresail is furled. Pennants fly from every masthead. The ship appears to be on a port tact. I imagine that it is leaving the harbor and heading out on an adventure far beyond the horizon.

This ships appears to be an early Carrack, similar to the one that I profiled in November 2015. It has moderately sized fore- and aft-castles with shallow U-shape from bow to stern.

The vessel represents the "Ship of Paris" -- the central feature on the city's arms. The legend -- FLVCTVAT NEC MERGITVR -- is the motto of Paris since the 14th century; it translates to read: "Tossed, but not sunk." It is an adage that resonates with me; life has it challenges, but we keep on, getting on.

It is amazing how little things change in life.

On the reverse (not shown) the motto -- PROSPERATVM EST OPVS IN MANNIIS EIVS -- translates: "Work prospers in his hands." There is a view of Paris with divine figures in the clouds above the city.

All told, a neat ship piece.

If you look close, you can see the makers initials below the waves: CK. This stands for Killian Kock. He was the mint master from Nuremberg (1580-1608). On the obverse the abbreviation -- NORIBE -- stands for his city.

This ship is scarce but available. There are several variations on this theme, some without waves. By the way, this is the 15th Old Sails thus far in the blog ... and I see more ships appearing on the horizon. As always, if you see an error, please post it so we all can benefit.

Collecting Jamestown: Part 16. A Token Like No Other (4).

This week I continue the story about King's Touch tokens or tickets. It is part of a Chapter from an upcoming book on Coin Talismans.

I have revised this Chapter several times, so I updated all previous posts. I hate to say this, but you will want to go back and re-read the previous three posts if you want the full story: 1/29/17, 2/3/17, and 2/26/17. Some paragraphs have been re-arranged and many words changed (hopefully for the better). This is how writing goes: write, revise, revise, revise.

My book manuscript is written (but for one or two chapters), so the revision process is underway. Over a hundred references will be added in later -- whew!

And so, on with our story:

During the King’s Touch ceremony, the afflicted person would use the copper ticket to gain admittance. When called forward, the person kneeled before the King and was touched. A bishop read Biblical passages from the Gospel of Mark during the service. One verse in particular explained the immunity of kings to evil and the power to heal: “They shall take up serpents; and if they drink any deadly thing, it shall not hurt them; they shall lay hands on the sick, and they shall recover” (Mark 16:18). At the conclusion of the service, the King hung the coin around the neck of the afflicted.

While visiting the British Isles in 1611, the Prince of Hesse made this observation. “I … attended the ceremony of “touching” several scrofulous patients, two bishops being also present; during the benediction the King laid two fingers upon them, and hung around the neck of each an angel with a white silk ribbon.” I’m sure that the service was a curious spectacle. The King’s Touch was unique to England and France and must have intrigued foreign dignitaries like the Prince.

The primary illness to be cured was a tubercular infection of the lymph nodes known as Scrofula. It was a common ailment characterized by ugly purple swellings in the neck and occasional outbreaks of oozing sores. The disease was called the “King’s Evil” or “Morbus Regius” for its association with the touching ceremony. Less often, folks with rheumatism, seizures, and fevers were admitted to the service.

Charles II touching the scrofulous.
Print by Robert White (1684) / Public Domain

These illnesses tended to follow a fluctuating course such that periodic remissions were possible; hence, the King’s Touch appeared to be efficacious often enough to generate remarkable success stories. Some physicians were no doubt skeptical, as the king’s surgeon, John Knight, commented in the 1670s: “If I err, I err in good company. Meanwhile the healings cheer the sick and serve the cause of the king.” When relief was not forthcoming, it was attributed to divine providence; I guess sinners – thieves, fornicators, murderers – had to pay a price.

The King’s Touch service was usually performed twice a year on Michaelmas and Easter. Not all monarchs were enthusiastic to touch. James I was notably squeamish about it, and he wanted to end the practice for its Old Church associations. Yet, the services continued. The populace clamored for it. Besides, the ceremony strengthened the monarchy in the eyes of its subjects. At its height, Charles II touched over 92,000 souls between 1660 and 1685. And, James II continued the practice with zest.

       The ceremony was abruptly stopped in 1688, as William III refused to touch. He famously retorting that is was mere superstition; he was a Calvinist after all. Queen Anne touched reluctantly. In fact, she used a lodestone instead of her fingers to touch the sores of the afflicted. The divine service was finally removed from the Book of Common Prayers when George I ascended to the throne in 1714. Of note, Jacobite pretenders and a few French kings continued to touch into the early nineteenth century.

I will have some more in a few weeks ... (I hope you are enjoying the story).