I do not pretend to have been to bottom of sea.Robert Boyle, 1670MATTER OUT OF PLACEConsider following object as shown in an early eighteenth-century engraving (Figure 1) . It is a piece of wood - not a highly worked thing, not ingeniously wrought, though it is an artefact of human labour rather than a natural body. Or is it? In engraving, piece of wood disappears: it is visible towards bottom of image, a sober pointed stump, but it is quickly subsumed by a second, enveloping entity that swirls about it in an embroidering corkscrew. What elements are here intertwining? The legend beneath engraving identifies artefact thus: Navis, prope Hispaniolam ann Dom 1659. Naufragium passae, asser, a davo ferreo transfixus, corallio aspero candicante I. B. Obsitus, & a fundo maris anno 1687 expiscatusV It describes a stake or spar from a ship wrecked off Hispaniola in 1659, which is transfixed by both an iron bolt rough whitish coral, fished out of depths in 1687. This collector's item is neither cliche of exemplarily beautiful coral nor straightforwardly a historical relic, but an intertwining of two: transfixing of a remnant of maritime technology by an aquatic agent. It exhibits very process of encrustation. The spar is juxtaposed with image of a jellyfish, more proximately, engravings of Spanish silver coins, also encrusted with coral: Nummus argenteus Hispanicus . . . incrustatus, one of labels reads.1 Still another illustration, in a separate engraving, bears legend Frustum Ugni e mari atlantico erutum cui adhaerescunt conchae anatiferae margine muricata - a piece of drift wood beset with bernecle [sic] shells. It poses a similar puzzle. What appears of interest to curious is neither barnacle nor wood as autonomous specimens but their physical relationship - fact that they are stuck together.2The engravings in question were commissioned by Hans Sloane for his two- volume Natural history of Jamaica (1707-25). Sloane had visited England's rising sugar colony during 1687-89 as physician to its then governor, Christopher Monck, second Duke of Albemarle, during a period of intense capital investment underwritten by acceleration of English involvement in African slave trade, in whose profits Sloane became a direct beneficiary. Although Sloane's voyage to Jamaica is noted for hundreds of plant specimens he brought back to London, origins of his Atlantic passage in fact lie under water, in that original motivation for Monck's acceptance of governorship was to make a fortune through salvage projects on sunken treasure ships in Caribbean Sea. Among Sloane's haul of specimens were numerous curiosities, including aquatic objects, such as his coral-encrusted spar coins. Several of these curiosities were later placed on public view in British Museum, which opened in 1759 to house collections Sloane had amassed. To Sloane's rival John Woodward, shipping physical context of specimens was at best a matter of necessity. For those pieces which are found lodged in marble or he advised collectors in 1696, and are not easily got out single, send pieces of said marble stone, of all sorts, with shells so lodged in them. Sloane's engraving of encrusted spar was neither accident nor instrumentality, however, but a display of learned attention to processes of mutual transformation between natural artificial forces, divine creativity human ingenuity.3Fusions of natural artificial entities also suggest relation between worlds of specimen gathering treasure-hunting in which collectors like Sloane trafficked. This essay pursues early modern curiosity culture's fascination with things encrusted transfixed into an intensely fetishised zone of collection signification: submarine. It aims to open up history of underwater realm in early modernity by examining what anthropologist Michael Taussig suggestively describes as the art of matter out of place. …
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