The worship of "the almighty dollar" is of no recent origin, provided it
be the case that the dollar is represented in gold. This worship forms
no special _cultus_ in the religions of the world. It is a survival from
prehistoric times, and is intimately connected with the earliest forms
of nature-worship. The estimate in which gold has been held has always
been out of all proportion to its utility, its scarcity, or the
difficulty of mining it. There have been times when civilized man had a
comparatively far more abundant supply of gold than he has at present,
but this circumstance did not avail to depreciate the metal. There were
long ages of an incipient civilization, during which gold flooded the
markets of the world as compared with iron, but this did not affect the
relations between the nobler and the baser article of merchandise. Gold
was all the time held at a valuation far above what it would have
received from its importance to mankind in the useful arts. It was
prized as amber was prized, and the two substances were devoted to quite
similar uses. They were employed for the decoration of temples and
shrines, and were worn for personal ornament. But the wearing of such
ornament had its origin in sentiments which may be regarded as strictly
religious. Beads and rings were originally amulets to protect the wearer
against invisible inimical powers, as they were talismans to confer upon
their possessor supernatural gifts. We can get no distinct view back of
this custom in time, but we may feel well assured that when gold had
acquired such use, nature-worship had advanced far into the stage of
symbolism. It was not the metal itself that was the object of worship.
That object gold typified and figured to the devout mind.
To discover what property it was that gave this metal its early
preference, it will be necessary to trace the survival of similar views
and feelings farther than we have ourselves consciously prolonged them.
It is to be observed that among the Turks and other Oriental people,
amber and yellow gems like the topaz, still enjoy a pre-eminence in
popular favor. These substances are still supposed to possess magical
power always beneficent. Among the Chinese, yellow is both sacred and it
is associated with the dignity of imperial rank. Yellow is the color of
the royal standard, and a yellow sash distinguishes a member of the
royal family. Robes of state are of the same color. And this
appropriation of yellow to certain sacred or governmental uses is not
confined to China. It is common through the East. The farther back we
trace the idea of special sacredness in color, the more exclusively do
we see this confined to yellow. This was long saved from vulgar uses and
associations. It had a significance to the ancients, such as it does not
have to us. There was a fitness in their decorating the temples and the
statues of the gods with gold, and silver, and ivory, and amber, and
gems. These offerings symbolized light, and light stood for the happier
destinies of man,--for the milder and gentler influences which lead to
good; while darkness typified malignant powers of evil. There was the
same distinction conceived of between life and death. White victims were
offered to the gods of Olympus, while for sacrifice to the gods of the
under-world black victims were selected.
Gold shines with the brightest and the warmest glow of any of the
metals, and its brilliancy and lustre are not tarnished by corrosion. To
the Oriental fancy it typified the genial light of day. To the
fire-worshipper it was a fit emblem of his faith. Fire was originally
sacred, perhaps, only as the representative of the sun; and this
luminary was later spiritualized in the idea of Apollo. Gold was sacred
as far as this worship was spread, from India to the North of Europe,
and the great demand for it for sacred uses gave the metal much of its
preciousness in the markets of the world. It was worn by the living and
was buried with the dead; so that if humanity had not refined its
conception of the divine, it would have come to be the case at length
that every particle of gold in the soil would have had mortal ashes
sleeping beside it.
Gold and silver were rendered sacred and precious in early times by
being devoted to purposes of worship. The temples were the safe places
of deposit, and in these were hoarded the treasures of the world. Partly
from this circumstance it became the case that when gold and silver were
first coined, the temples were the mints, and the earliest mint-masters
were the priests. Naturally, the devices stamped upon the coins issued
under such auspices would be sacred emblems. We find them such from
whatever source they came. There was sound policy in this course, as
well as good reason for it. If coins were to circulate among people who
had previously been accustomed to paying out and receiving the precious
metals by actual weight, it was necessary to have the value of these
pieces certified to in the most solemn manner. To this end the effigies
of the gods, together with the tokens of their attributes and sacred
offices, were stamped upon the coin. If we could trace coinage to its
earliest use, perhaps to its origin, among the people who lived about
the Ægean Sea, it would not be unreasonable to expect to find that at
first gold coin was issued under the patronage of Apollo, that silver
bore the stamp of Zeus, and that copper coins were dedicated to
Aphrodite, as the nearest representative among Greek divinities of that
Phoenician goddess who presided over trade in the ports and markets of
the East. But among the coins that remain--and some of these are shown
to be of early date, they are so rude in execution--we do not find this
distinction kept. It is certain that at an early period the emblems of
the several divinities were mixed, apparently with a view to giving a
more weighty sanction to the stamp impressed upon the coin.
The earlier Greek coins were struck by hand. A single die was employed
in the process, so that an impression of device or of legend appeared
only on one side. The other side bore an indent which is known as the
punch-mark. This mark is commonly a square figure divided into four
smaller squares by lines resembling somewhat a right cross. It is the
indent of the spike in the anvil on which the ball of metal was laid
when being struck. Later, the coins were made thinner, and were struck
with double dies. From that time both sides of the coin received an
impression. The upper side continued to show the greatest care. As this
side always bore the head of the god under whose auspices the coin was
to be issued, it was called the obverse or face of the piece. The
opposite side was the reverse. So long as coins continued to be struck
by hand, there was no fixed relative position for the two impressions.
Coins were always printed as though they were turned horizontally from
left to right. They still continue to be so printed, and we go on in the
practice of speaking of the reverse of coins, even when we are
discussing those of our own coinage; but the fact is that ever since
American coins were stamped in the mint the impressions on the two
sides bear a certain fixed relation. In passing from the obverse of our
coins to the examination of the opposite side, we do this by inverting
the piece. That side would then properly be called the inverse of the
coin, and it would, with equal propriety be printed directly beneath its
obverse.
The shape of early coins is by no means uniform. There is one
peculiarity of the coins of Boeotia and Macedonia, as well as of many
colonies of these states, which is worthy of some attention. It may
indicate how it came about that the round disk is now the prevailing
form. The coins of these two Greek states in particular were for a long
period concavo-convex disks, the convex side being in all instances the
obverse. It has been suggested, by way of accounting for this form, that
it secured a more perfect impression of the upper die, which always
struck the obverse. It may be the case that a better impression was
gained on that side, but an examination will show that the designer and
engraver spared nothing of art or of skill upon the reverses. These are
executed with a care and vigor equal to that of the obverse, and are
struck with equal success. The concave shape preserved the reverse from
wear, and made it an object for both artist and artisan to put good work
on this side. It is more in accordance with the Greek way of looking at
things, to account for this shape on other ground than that of
expediency. It is more likely than otherwise, that this form is
emblematic. The ancient buckler was of this form. Of such a figure was
the escutcheon of these states. Boeotia adopted for hers the shield of
Herakles, and Macedonia that of Ares. What tends strongly to confirm
this view, that the buckler was the model for the coin, is the fact that
for a long time Macedonian coins were finished upon the obverse, in
imitation of the national shield. This is to be seen in the decoration
of the border, even on coins that were struck long after Macedonia had
become a Roman province. May it not be the case that the buckler served
as model for the circular disk?
As Greek coins were issued under the sanction of some god, it was
natural that they should go out from his temple bearing his effigy and
the symbols of his worship. Apollo succeeded to the early worship paid
the sun and fire. He was the god of light and beauty. In his honor gold
coins should originally have been struck, and they should bear his
emblems. It will be of service to see what some of these were. This god
was, on the whole, beneficent, as the influences of the sun are kindly,
but he inflicted plagues by shooting his poisoned arrows among the
people, just as the heat of the sun engenders deadly fevers. We have
retained a trace of the old feeling, as our language betrays where
consciousness utterly fails. We attribute certain sudden attacks of
illness to _sunstroke_. That word "stroke" brings vividly before us the
smiting of the Greek camp on the plain before Troy. Representing the
sun, as Apollo did, the head of this god often appears radiated upon
coins, particularly upon the coins of Rhodes. This was as the poets
were wont to describe him. Catullus alludes to his flashing
eyes,--"_radiantibus oculis_." Tibullus speaks of him as this youth
having his temples bound with sacred laurel--"_hic juvenis casta
redimitus tempora lauro_" The use of the laurel was reserved to this
god, and in times of primitive Greek and Roman piety it was allowed to
men only whose successful general would celebrate a triumph. The
palm-branch is also connected with the worship of this god, in allusion
to the sacred palm-tree under which Leta gave birth to him and to
Artemis. The rays, the laurel, and the palm are the symbols of Apollo
upon our coins. Other nations have employed the bow, the lyre, and the
tripod, with many more equally familiar symbols.
The coinage of silver belonged peculiarly to Zeus, the god of the
thunderbolt. The question arises at once, Was there fancied a
resemblance between the whiteness of this metal and dazzling brightness
of the flash of lightning? However that question may be answered, there
remains the fact that the thunderbolt was a symbol of the power of Zeus,
and its figure uniformly accompanied the effigy of the god. Ovid speaks
of Zeus as of one whose hand is armed with three-forked fires,--
_"Cui deutra trisulces
Ignibus armata est."_
It is worth while to give this emblem some little study. It is
represented under three varieties of one general form. We first find it
a bundle of flames wreathed closely together in the form of a double
cone. It is then a token of peace. Zeus is always seated when bearing
this, and it is held downward. Under its second form the thunderbolt
consists of a similar double cone, only it is elongated and pointed.
This cone is crossed obliquely by two zigzag flashes of lightning,
terminating at either end in arrow-points. Later forms of this symbol
have the forward end the same, but the other end is wrought into an
ornamental and somewhat arborescent head. This form with the lightning
flashes is always borne uplifted, and by the god standing in readiness
to hurl the bolt. This is the form we are to look for in connection with
the worship of Zeus. The third form is of rare occurrence in literature
and art.
Another emblem of the Olympian god, more familiar even than the
thunderbolt, is the eagle. Æschylus calls this bird "the winged hound of
Zeus." This conception of the poet ruled in art as well as in
literature. It was the popular idea of divine vengeance following and
punishing guilt that sought concealment. Open impiety drew down upon the
offender's head the flashing thunderbolt. A comparative examination of a
few coins will help towards interpreting this symbolism. For this
purpose the coins of Elis will serve best. Here was Olympia, with its
famous temple of Zeus, and here were celebrated the great national
Olympian games in honor of the god. Certainly if any part of Greece was
more sacred to Zeus than the rest, that part was Elis. Its coins are
covered with his symbols. Three types of about 371 B.C. form a group of
especial interest. The first of these has, obverse, an eagle tearing a
ram, on a shield; reverse, a thunderbolt. Second, obverse, an eagle
tearing a serpent; reverse, a thunderbolt. Third, obverse, an eagle
tearing a hare; reverse, a winged thunderbolt. Here the identity is
sufficiently close to bring these examples under one description. They
seem to commemorate the just punishment of some enemies of Elis, or,
possibly, the deserved penalty for some wrong done Zeus himself. It
would not be easy at this late day to make sure what people or persons
may have been indicated by the ram, the serpent, and the hare. The
obverse in each case tells the story of the event so far as we can read
the story, and the reverse invariably confirms the tenor and spirit of
the same. This harmony between the two sides of the coin may be traced
throughout ancient coinage, proving that it was of a medallic character.
Other coins of Elis are of a peaceful character, and it is of interest
to see how the emblems are managed upon these. One has, obverse, head of
eagle; reverse, thunderbolt within a wreath. Another, obverse, head of
Hera; reverse, eagle standing in wreath. A third, obverse, head of
Olympia; reverse, eagle within olive-wreath. It will be observed that
the reverse does not in these instances bear the symbols as before, upon
an open field, but the field is now enclosed by a wreath. The import of
this seems to have been about the same as that of the drawn sword and
the sheathed sword in modern heraldic designs. Still other examples will
show not only the harmony between obverse and reverse, but how coins
were dedicated to more than one divinity. This practice was at first
more common in the colonies than in the metropolitan cities. A coin of
Crotona of about 479 B.C. has, obverse, eagle perched on the cornice of
a temple; reverse, tripod and olive-spray. It would seem likely that
this piece was first dedicated to Zeus, and next to Apollo. Zeus often
holds the eagle on his hand as falcons were held in the days of hawking,
and he is then called the eagle-holder (_exetophoros_). When so
represented, the god is commonly seated as at peace; but there is one
coin of Messene which shows him holding the bird while he is standing
and thundering. Later coins show combinations which are particularly
interesting in connection with the symbolism of our own coins. One of
the best of these is a Macedonian coin of the time of Perseus--obverse,
head of Perseus; reverse, an eagle on a thunderbolt, within a wreath of
oak. In connection with this example should be examined a Roman gold
coin of about 269 B.C.--obverse, head of Mars; reverse, an eagle holding
in its talons a thunderbolt. This type of reverse has been pretty
closely copied by designers for our mint.
The coins of Athens may have furnished the original for the olive-wreath
so common on American coins. They were issued under the auspices of
Athene, and bore upon the obverse the head of the goddess. The reverse
regularly bore the owl and the olive-bough. These coins were familiarly
called owls, just as we speak of eagles in our currency, and just as the
English talked of angels and crosses in the time of Elizabeth.
Aristophanes jocosely calls the Athenian pieces owls of Laurium, in
allusion to the gold mines there, in which they were hatched.
It would be of interest to trace these heraldic devices through the
intervening ages, and along the devious ways by which they have come
down to the present. This task would lead one far afield in history. In
the hasty glance just now given to the coins of Greece, we have found
material that will help to an understanding of what is impressed upon
the coins of our own country. There would be no less of propriety and
pertinence in asking what significance these symbols have brought to us
from the time they were struck in faith and in awe by the very shrines
of the gods in the temples of Greece. We may say that these symbols have
no significance for us; but centuries hence, when the beginnings of our
government are no longer a memory with the people, historians will
relate with what instructive readiness the founders of our government,
finding these colonies free and independent states, turned to the
colonies and states of Greece for a model upon which to mould a nation;
and they will find in early American coinage full confirmation of this
view. The very same influence was manifested in the architecture of
America for the first half of this century, as many a public edifice,
and even private houses, sufficiently prove.
Before examining any particular coin, it may be worth the while to
notice a few of the more prominent features of our American types. The
most striking of all is the absence of portrait heads. There is good
reason for this. The theory of our government is, that it is but the
collective will of the people. Again, since the invention of printing,
there is longer reason in giving coins a medallic character. This
function of coinage has been perpetuated in Germany. A _Sieges-Thaler_
was struck after the Franco-Prussian War of 1870. There were a few
portrait heads of Washington upon coins struck under his administration;
but the practice ended there. It is said that the head upon some of our
later coins is a portrait. If so, its American type is not recognizable.
The head, whenever it appears upon the obverse of our coins, is Greek in
outline and expression. This is so strongly the character of the
features, that even where an attempt has been made to secure a
distinctly American type, as in the case of the three-dollar gold coin
of 1854, the cast of features is still Greek. Some slight modification
is made by accessories, such as the circlet of feathers about the head.
The obverse of the gold dollar of the same date bears what is described
as the head of a beautiful Indian; but the features are Greek, and the
hair is waving, unlike any ever seen among savages.
In descriptions of American coins, the eagle, which appears so often
and so prominent, is commonly spoken of as the American eagle. If one
will take the trouble to compare this figure in every position in which
it is displayed upon our coins, with the effigy of "the winged hound of
Zeus," so common on the coins of Greece, he will find the identity
complete. The only difference will be that the old hand-struck coins
show the vigor of original work, as compared with that of a copy.
Another familiar symbol on American coins is the bundle of arrows held
in one talon or the other of the eagle. On a few of our earlier coins
the number of these arrows was four or six, or even more; but commonly
there have been three, and now they are uniformly of that number. They
are arranged at a pretty definite angle. The two obliquely transverse
ones are in position and in form precisely like the two flashes of
lightning across the thunderbolt of Zeus, only the zigzag lines have
been straightened into arrow-shafts. It seems highly probable that the
point of the bolt between the two flashes itself developed into the
middle arrow, and thus makes up the traditional number three. The fact
that the thunderbolt is found in the talons of the eagle so often, upon
both Greek and Roman coins, makes the supposition a likely one.
Regarding the laurel and the olive, it need only be said that the branch
of itself symbolizes the presence of the divinity, to which the tree is
sacred, or it typifies some attribute or the exercise of some divine
office. As an illustration, Apollo is often shown using the laurel-bough
to sprinkle the people with purifying waters. But when boughs or leaves
are twined into a wreath, it is commonly to denote worship paid to the
divinity, or in its name; for in worshipping the gods, wreaths of the
proper material were placed upon their statues in the sacred places, and
it was a regular industry in Greek towns to twine wreaths for this very
use. This import of the wreath is called to mind by observing that the
legend on the reverse of the three-dollar gold coin of 1854 is
surrounded by a wreath of the leaves of the tobacco-plant and cereals.
The obverse and the reverse of coins have always been read together, as
a whole. This rule was never more clearly exemplified than in striking
the old colonial shillings of Massachusetts, where the legend of the
obverse--"Massachusetts in"--was completed by turning the coin over and
reading on the reverse the rest of the sentence--"New England."
It remains now to look at a few examples of our national coinage. The
eagle of 1795 bears upon its obverse a head of Liberty, wearing a rather
high Phrygian cap. This cap, and the wand upon which it is more commonly
raised, are the symbols of this goddess. They are familiar enough in
Roman art and literature, if not in our own. The reverse of the coin
bears an eagle with expanded wings, holding in its beak a laurel-wreath,
and grasping a palm-branch with both talons. From what has already been
said in regard to the significance of these emblems to an earlier
generation of men, this inscription, as a whole, may be construed
somewhat like this: Liberty, through the power of Zeus, has secured
victory, and through the same helping power she now offers worship to
the genius of prophetic inspiration. With some such thought of his
country would an old Greek have scanned this coin when he bartered his
soul for its possession. In the coinage of 1838, this coin bears on its
reverse an eagle with a shield--which, by the way, is Roman--on its
breast, and having its wings uplifted. This eagle holds in its left
talon three arrows, and in its right an olive-branch.
The double eagle of 1850 bears on its obverse a head of Liberty. The
face is shown in profile, and the features are of pure Greek type. The
fillet about the head is such as was worn by the ancient priests. This
circumstance serves to connect our coinage with the earliest issues made
from the temples, under direction of the priests. The reverse of the
coin has a small eagle, nearly hidden by the shield upon its breast. Its
left talon holds three arrows, and its right an olive-branch. The
distinctive mark of this reverse is the arc of diverging rays of the sun
above the head of the eagle. This arc is found with peculiar
appropriateness upon a gold coin, since it is a symbol of the old
sun-worship, or of Apollo, under whose auspices gold coins were
originally issued. Its occurrence here, moreover, emphasizes that total
disregard for the fitness of things which appears on the reverse of the
half-eagle of 1796, where clouds are seen above the eagle's head.
The silver coins of our currency have much in common with the gold. Such
parts of the designs upon these as are like what has been found upon the
gold coins will call for no further remark. The reverse of the dollar of
1798 is noticeable for this; that the eagle grasps in his right talon a
bundle of four arrows instead of three, as on later coins. From 1836 a
pretty nearly uniform pattern has prevailed for the dollar and its
subdivisions. The obverse shows a female figure seated. The face is of a
pronounced Greek type. The drapery is Greek, with one trifling
variation,--the fastening of the dress is shown upon the right shoulder.
The ancient fashion of this garment put the fastening only upon the left
shoulder. Upon these coins the cap of Liberty is not worn upon the head,
but it is displayed upon a wand held in the left hand. The right hand of
the figure rests on shield and scroll. The reverse shows an eagle with
wings expanded as if about to fly. The shield covers its breast. Unlike
the eagle of the earlier coins, it is with the right talon now that it
grasps the olive-branch, and the left holds three arrows. The
quarter-dollar of 1853 has the space above the eagle on the reverse
filled with diverging rays. Apollo might not, perhaps, take it as a
compliment to be asked to sanction much of our later silver coinage.
The five-cent nickel coin of 1866 introduced some novel features upon
its reverse. The shield is most prominent, and it is overhung by
branches of olive. Above the shield appears for the first time on our
national coinage the cross. Soon after this coin was first issued, a
query was made in the "American Historical Magazine" as to the
significance of this symbol in the place it occupied. The query elicited
from some official connected with the mint a reply to the effect that
the cross had not the slightest significance. The reply carried with it
a confession rather humiliating to make or to admit. Something better
than that ought to be said for a symbol that has figured in all the
heraldic decorations of religion and chivalry. It might have been said
that in colonial times, so early as 1661, coins were struck in Maryland,
the reverse of which bore a shield, and that this was surmounted by a
crown and a cross. But the strangest thing about this cross on the
nickel coin is that it happens to be of a very unusual pattern. It is
the cross of the Order of Calatrava, a military order of Spain,
instituted in 1158, and continuing a very honorable existence down to
the present day. When worn as a decoration embroidered upon the left
breast of the coat, it is a red cross fancifully worked into some
resemblance to the _fleur-de-lis_. Of the minor coins no special mention
need be made. They present nothing unlike what occurs upon those already
examined and described.
The brief study here made of this subject is barely sufficient to
indicate a mode of interpretation which can be applied to all that is
emblematic upon our coins. So far it has nearly all been found
thoroughly Greek in its origin and character. It is proper that it
should be so, for our life, in all the activities through which money is
kept in circulation, is more nearly Greek than it is anything else. This
is nothing we need blush to own. Original genius like that of Goethe may
shape its course, as the poet advised, without looking to the past; but
the less gifted will often turn back to watch the line along which
progress has hitherto been made, and they will find the strongest
reliance in keeping steadily upon the same course.