British Museum blog

Have we found Fred and Nellie?

engraved coinBen Alsop, Curator, British Museum

Silver George V shilling re-engraved as a love token, 1916 (J.3283)

Silver George V shilling re-engraved as a love token, 1916 (J.3283)

In February I wrote a post about a First World War love token which we have in the collection of the Department of Coins and Medals. The token, a silver shilling of King George V, had been engraved to carry the simple message ‘FROM FRED TO NELLIE FRANCE 1916′. In the post I wondered who Fred and Nellie were. Had Fred fought at the Somme and if so, did he return home?

These questions I raised far more in hope than in the expectation of anyone suggesting possible answers. The rather limited information that we had about the object, that it had been donated to the Museum in 1966 by Miss Carvell from Hampstead in London, was not a particularly promising place from which to start any investigation.

Fred and Nellie Sharp, 5 August 1916. Photo with kind permission of Joy

Fred and Nellie Sharp, 5 August 1916. Photo with kind permission of Joy

Imagine my surprise when a few days after the post was published, the Museum received an email from a lady who had seen an image of the token on the Museum’s Facebook page and felt compelled to write. In subsequent emails Joy explained that her grandfather Frederick Sharp, known as Fred, had married a lady called Ellen Alden (who everyone knew as Nellie) on 5 August 1916 at the John Street Baptist Church in Holborn. Frederick Sharp had been called up in 1916 and married Nellie just before he left for France with the King’s Royal Rifle Corps. In a photograph taken on their wedding day you can see the newly married couple, Fred in his army uniform and Nellie seated by his side.

Fred and Nellie with their three children, date unknown. Photo with kind permission of Joy

Fred and Nellie with their three children, date unknown. Photo with kind permission of Joy

The King’s Royal Rifle Corps had a total of fourteen battalions engaged at the Battle of the Somme from July 1916 until its end in November that year. So it is possible that Fred did indeed see action in the battle. Thankfully he returned home to be reunited with Nellie and the couple had three children, eventually ending up living in Friern Barnet in North London. Nellie died in 1966, the year the token entered the Museum’s collection as a donation from Miss Margaret Mary Carvell, who lived at 30 Daleham Gardens, Hampstead. Margaret Carvell was evidently interested in coins as she had joined the British Numismatic Society in November 1966 but died just two years later.

So far we haven’t been able to make the link between Margaret Carvell and Fred and Nellie, and maybe we never will. While it’s unlikely we can ever be completely certain that this love token was a gift from Frederick Sharp to his wife Ellen, the evidence kindly put forward by Joy is compelling. I for one hope that the couple shown in the photograph is the one we are seeking and that it was Fred, whom Joy described as ‘a lovely kind man’, who gave the simple token of affection to Nellie before he left to go to war.

The Money Gallery is supported by Citi

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The sinking of the Lusitania: medals as war propaganda

medalHenry Flynn, Project Curator, British Museum

The Money and Medals Network is an Arts Council England-funded project that exists to build and develop relationships between UK museums that have numismatic collections. As the project curator, I travel to these museums to meet the members of staff who care for such collections. One object that I have seen time and again in museums all over the country is the Lusitania medal by Karl Goetz.

RMS Lusitania coming into port, possibly in New York, 1907-13, Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division, Detroit Publishing Company Collection.

RMS Lusitania coming into port, possibly in New York, 1907-13, Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division, Detroit Publishing Company Collection.

The sinking of RMS Lusitania on 7 May 1915 was a hugely significant event during the First World War. The ship was sunk by a torpedo, a fact indicative of the increased use of submarines in marine warfare, which helped it become even more dangerous than it had been previously. The tragedy of the loss of life that included civilian passengers had global repercussions that contributed to the eventual decision taken by the United States to enter the conflict. It also sparked something of a medallic propaganda war.

Bronze Lusitania medal, by Karl Goetz (1916,0707.9), obverse

Bronze Lusitania medal, by Karl Goetz (1916,0707.9), obverse

The German artist Karl Goetz was so incensed by the mere idea that a passenger liner might have been used for military purposes that he decided to produce a medal satirising the subject. He mistakenly stated on the medal that the date of the sinking was 5 May – two days earlier than the actual event. This caused an outcry in Britain and accusations that the sinking had been premeditated by the Germans. This use of the wrong date was in fact a mistake, but copies of the medal were made and distributed in Britain in protest against the Germans’ use of medallic art to effectively celebrate a tragedy. The British copy had its own presentation box that also included a document detailing the reasons behind its production. Many of these medals have since found their way into the collections of museums across the country and will be featuring in commemorative displays this year and in 2015. The British Museum has an example of the German original and the British copy and both will be displayed in the new exhibition The other side of the medal: how Germany saw the First World War. Alongside my work on the Money and Medals Network, I have had some curatorial input into this exhibition curated by my colleague Tom Hockenhull.

Bronze Lusitania medal, by Karl Goetz (1916,0707.9), reverse

Bronze Lusitania medal, by Karl Goetz (1916,0707.9), reverse

The medal itself is a fascinating object that is laced with satirical symbolism. On the obverse, the ship is depicted sinking under the waves. Weapons appear on the deck, a direct accusation that the ship had been carrying munitions, thus putting the lives of its passengers at risk, the notion that had so infuriated Goetz. The reverse shows unsuspecting passengers queuing up to buy their tickets from a personification of Death who sits inside the ticket booth. The warnings of a German man stood in the background and the ‘U-Boat Danger’ headline on a newspaper go unnoticed by the crowd. The inscription above the scene means ‘business above all’ and makes the message of the medal doubly clear. The presence of Death playing an active and malevolent role in the events is a theme that pervaded German medallic art during the First World War and this will be explored in the exhibition.

Propeller from RMS Lusitania, National Museums Liverpool, author’s photo.

Propeller from RMS Lusitania, National Museums Liverpool, author’s photo.

In 1982 one of the four propellers from the vessel was salvaged from the wreck and subsequently acquired by National Museums Liverpool. The Lusitania has a strong link with Liverpool and the propeller, now part of the collection of the Merseyside Maritime Museum, is displayed on the quayside at the Albert Dock. Services of remembrance are held next to it every year on the anniversary of the sinking of the ship.

The other side of the medal: how Germany saw the First World War is on display in Room 69a (admission free) from 9 May to 23 November 2014

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Seeking Fred and Nellie, France 1916

Silver George V shilling re-engraved as a love token, 1916 (J.3283)
Ben Alsop, curator, British Museum

Silver George V shilling re-engraved as a love token, 1916 (J.3283)

Silver George V shilling re-engraved as a love token, 1916 (J.3283)

When you think of the relationship between money and war you can be forgiven for immediately thinking about the financial implications of war. The money required to put boots on the ground and aeroplanes in the sky is staggering and yet as the world remembers the centenary of the outbreak of the First World War, an object in the Citi Money Gallery reminds us that not all is as it seems. To look at one side of this silver shilling is to see something unremarkable, run of the mill and even (and I say this in hushed tones) boring. The stoic, moustachioed profile of King George V gazes left as an inscription encircles him, there is no emotion to be found here, just a standard royal portrait. The other side of the coin is different; the traditional image of a lion and crown has been carefully removed to create a smooth service on which a message has been engraved. In compact script, it reads, ‘FROM FRED TO NELLIE FRANCE 1916′.

It is not unusual to see money, and especially coins, used in such a way. ‘Love Tokens’, as these re-engraved pieces have come to be known, had their heyday from the late eighteenth to mid nineteenth centuries, when convicted criminals were transported from Britain to Australia. Large copper coins were often engraved with messages of love and devotion, a small object of remembrance left behind by someone who would most likely never see their loved ones again. Short bursts of poetry would accompany images of hearts and doves asking the recipient not to forget their existence on the other side of the world.

A soldier during the First World War was similarly compelled to engrave a simple message of devotion. 1916 witnessed two of the bloodiest battles of the war, at Verdun and the Somme in France, resulting in over two million casualties. Is it possible that Fred fought in the Battle of the Somme and if so did he return home? Who is Nellie, to whom he dedicated this coin? Quite simply we don’t know. The only information we have about the object is that it was donated to the British Museum in 1966 by Mrs Carvell from Hampstead in London. Any hopes of identifying Fred or Nellie ends here, unless someone reading this blog post has information which may help us get a step closer to the two protagonists named on this small yet compelling object.

A minor edit was made to the post on 26 Fenruary 2014 to remove the suggestion that Fred fought at the Battle of Verdun, as it is unlikely that there would have been any British soldiers at Verdun.

The Money Gallery is supported by Citi

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Wagner’s Das Rheingold, the first #opera in the Ring Cycle, premiered #onthisday in 1869. Here’s a #lithograph from the collection by Henri Fantin-Latour, depicting the first scene. Wagner's Ring was inspired by #german #myths and you can find out more about German culture in our #exhibition #MemoriesOfANation from 16 Oct Holy Roman Emperor Charles V died #onthisday in 1558. Here’s his family tree #art #history Born #onthisday in 1486: Arthur Tudor, brother of Henry VIII and Catherine of Aragon's first husband #art #history #tudor 600 years ago #onthisday in 1414, the Sultan of Bengal sent a giraffe as tribute to the Yongle emperor of China. The animal arrived at the Ming court to great acclaim and was thoroughly documented in words and images, like in this hanging scroll from the Philadelphia Museum of Art. Many exotic animals were sent as tribute to the Ming court from lands visited by the imperial fleet and its admiral Zheng He.

You can see this hanging scroll and much more of China’s amazing craftsmanship from the period in our new exhibition #Ming50Years, until 5 Jan 2015.
#china #art #scroll #giraffe Born #onthisday in 1867: Arthur Rackham. Here's his illustration to A Midsummer Night's Dream #art #illustration #shakespeare It's #TalkLikeAPirateDay so here's R take on it...
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