The growing scarcity of standard Ming coin had repercussions throughout maritime East Asia, provoking a series of monetary crises. The proliferation of private coin resulted in the demise of a unified monetary standard in Japan and elsewhere. Both the state and the market began to discriminate between “good” and “bad” bronze coin. This type of discrimination resulted in greater heterogeneity of the coin in circulation, a widening bifurcation between standard and transactional currencies, and a narrowing of the spatial range of monetary circulation. Momentous changes in the East Asian maritime trading world in the mid-sixteenth century also contributed to the fragmentation of monetary circulation. The restructuring of maritime commerce following the arrival of European traders and the sudden ascendancy of silver (initially from Japan, and later from the Americas) as the major internationally-traded commodity in East Asia put an end to the prominence of Chinese coin as the common international currency. Yet Chinese coin—-more specifically, privately-manufactured imitations of Chinese coins—continued to be indispensable to the smooth functioning of local markets.2

[...]

Having abandoned its efforts to impose a fiat paper currency, in 1436 the Ming court rescinded the ban on the use of coin in trade. At the same time, however, the Ming ceased minting new coin, and for the next seventy years the Ming issued no new coin. Even without the blessing of the state, bronze coin continued to prevail as the primary transactional currency in Beijing and other major entrepôts in North China throughout the fifteenth century. Private coiners rushed in to fill the vacuum left by the closure of the state mints. In 1456 the Beijing constabulary reported that although in years past only standard Yongle coin had been accepted in the marketplaces in the capital, recently Beijing had become inundated by imitation coins manufactured in the Jiangnan cities of Suzhou and Songjiang.10 By the 1470s cheap privately-issued coins (so-called “new coin” prevailed both in the capital and the provinces because of the scarcity of standard Ming coin. However, merchants rejected the debased new coin—a practice known as “shroffing” (tiaojian xuanjian)—or discounted it by as much as 70 percent. Since the “new coins” were imitations of Ming issues (Hongwu, Yongle, and Xuande coins), their proliferation provoked a reaction against even genuine Ming coins. Shroffing also caused a sharp spike in coin-denominated prices, bringing much distress to petty urban consumers. In 1481 the ministry of revenue reported that Hongwu and Yongle coins now were routinely refused in the marketplace.* 11 Other contemporaries confirm that Hongwu and Yongle coins disappeared from circulation, to be replaced by “old coin” (guqian), that is to say coins minted during the Song dynasty.12 From this point forward distinct regional variations in coin use appear throughout the Ming empire.

The Ming court briefly resumed coinage in 1505-9, and then began to mint coin on a more consistent basis from 1527 onward. Nonetheless, private coinage continued unabated, and the discounting of coin became progressively more acute. By the 1510S-20S, so-called “bogus coins” (claohao) commonly were discounted by 50 percent, and at times by as much as 90 percent. It seems that much of this debased private coin consisted of imitations of the early Ming Hongwu and Yongle issues, with the result that merchants routinely discounted all Ming coins by 5 0 percent.13 A gazetteer entry dating from 1545 describes the prevalence of private coin in Xinning county in Guangdong, located along the seacoast of the Pearl River Delta:

"At the beginning of the dynasty, when the Hongwu tongbao coin was first issued, the state established a mint at the préfectoral capital [of Guangzhou], and many people from [the neighboring county of] Xinhui were employed as artisans there. Some seized the opportunity to steal coin molds, and ever since people in places in our county such as Haochong and Caogang have been casting counterfeit coin. This coin circulates together with standard coin, but a thousand counterfeit coins (weiqian) are worth only three hundred genuine coins (zhenqian)- The authorities repeatedly issued proscriptions against private coinage, to no avail. The practice still prevails at the present time. When local people trade at Xinhui they bring this coin, which then is transported to Vietnam and Guangxi, or shipped overseas for sale."

[...]

Although the archaeological data remains more suggestive than definitive, the scarcity of Yongle coin in fifteenth and sixteenth century hoards is consistent with other evidence testifying to their limited circulation. One scholar has suggested that the real purpose of minting Yongle coin—which were first issued at a time when Hongwu’s proscription against the use of coin in exchange was still in effect—was not to supply money to the domestic economy, but rather to serve as a “trade coin” for financing the commerce conducted under the aegis of the Ming tributary system.17 Although there is no direct evidence to confirm that the Ming consciously adopted such a policy, substantial quantities of coin were delivered to foreign envoys, either as gifts or as payment for purchases of commercial goods brought by these diplomatic embassies.18 The Japanese tribute mission of 1433 and the traders who accompanied it departed with over 50 million coins, substantially more than the annual output of Ming mints a century later. But by the 1470s Japanese tribute missions received little or no coin, a reflection of the reduced stockpiles of coin held in the Ming treasuries.

[...]

In the second half of the fifteenth century Dai Viet regained the capacity to issue good coin, judging from the high metallic value of coins issued from the 1460s to the 1490s.23 But it is unclear how much of this coin was issued, or how widely it circulated. In i486 and again in 1497 the court issued orders prohibiting the practice of shroffing coin, insisting that genuine bronze coins, regardless of wear and damage, must be accepted as long as they could be strung.24 These pronouncements echoed the anti-shroffing laws repeatedly issued by the Ming government in the late fifteenth century. Despite their deteriorating quality, imported Chinese coins continued to dominate local markets in Vietnam. The Portuguese merchant Tomé Pires, who sojourned at Melaka in 1512-15, reported that in both the Dai Viet kingdom in Tongking and in Cochinchina (central Vietnam) Chinese coins were utilized for everyday purchases, while commercial transactions and overseas trade were conducted in foreign gold and silver coins.25

During the Northern Song period (960-1127), the Chinese state minted prodigious quantities of bronze coin (estimated at 260 billion coins, or roughly 2,500 coins per capita), yet the supply of this low-value currency nonetheless failed to keep pace with the rapidly escalating demand.2 The Northern Song also established several iron coin regions along its northern and western borders, partly because of the lack of local supplies of copper and partly to prevent leakage of bronze coin to the enemy states of Liao and Xixia. In the early eleventh century the state took over privatelyissued paper notes that had emerged in the iron-currency region of Sichuan in the west and created the world’s first viable paper currency. The Song denominated this paper money (known as jiaozi 交子; replaced in the early twelfth century by a new paper currency called qianyin 錢引) in iron coin and restricted its circulation to Sichuan and other iron currency regions in the northwest. In addition, a variety of paper instruments— including commodity vouchers (which entitled the bearer to obtain and market goods controlled by the state monopoly bureaus, such as salt, tea, and alum) and promissory notes for long-distance money transfers—were issued by the state and (in the latter case) by private merchants as well. The state’s fiscal system, following earlier precedent, used bronze coin units—a single coin (wen 文) and units of 1,000 coins (guan 貫 or “strings”)—as its money of account. Marketplace prices were likewise expressed in the same units (plus a 100-coin unit known as mo 陌).3

[...]

The development of the huizi paper currency was integrally linked to the Song state’s use of (uncoined) silver as the hard currency reserve backing its fiat money.5 Down to 1207 the Song state periodically shored up the faltering value of huizi notes (and also the parallel qianyin paper currency in Sichuan) by redeeming them for silver. However, after 1207, the state’s worsening fiscal straits forced it to abandon the principle of convertibility and it began to issue huizi in enormous quantities, resulting in a severe depreciation in the value of paper currency. From the 1230s down to the Mongol conquest of the Southern Song in 1276 the market value (in bronze coin) of huizi notes was a mere one-third of their nominal value. However, paper money and silver nevertheless dominated both public finance and large-scale private trade. Bronze coin served primarily as the means of exchange for small-scale transactions.

Song statesmen had conceived of paper money as a medium of exchange, but not as a store of value. Initially huizi notes had a three-year term of expiry, after which the note had to be returned to the authorities in exchange for a new issue. This frequent retirement of huizi notes discouraged holding them as a form of savings. After 1211, however, the principle of retiring notes was largely suspended, and the no. 18 run of huizi notes initially issued in 1240 were intended to circulate indefinitely. The elimination of terms of expiry enhanced the utility of paper currency as a store of value, further reducing the benefit of holding coin.6

[...]

The Jin state husbanded its own stocks of coin while relying on paper money and silver in its fiscal expenditures. In 1197, salaries for officials and soldiers were converted to payments made half in silver and half in jiaochao. On the revenue side, merchants who purchased commodity vouchers (primarily for salt) likewise had to make payments half in silver and half in notes. In 1198 the Jin prohibited the use of bronze coin as a means of payment in any private transaction, large or small. Whereas the Southern Song issued huizi bills exclusively in large-denomination 1-guan and 2-guan notes that were unsuited for petty commerce,13 the Jin jiaochao bills were issued in twelve denominations ranging from 100 wen to 10 guan. In 1194 the Jin had adopted the novel expedient of issuing a silver coin denominated in weights of silver (five altogether) ranging from 1 to 10 liang 兩 (1 liang = 39.6 g) and pegged it to an official exchange rate of 1 liang = 2 guan of jiaochao. However, the Jin abruptly halted the use of silver coin in 1200, citing the problem of counterfeiting and the revival in the value of paper money after the hostilities with the Mongols ceased.

[...]

In 1233, the Jin issued yet another new paper currency, the Tianxing baohui 天興寶會, the first paper money to be denominated in silver units rather than bronze coin. These notes were issued in four denominations of 1, 2, 3, and 5 qian 錢 (1 qian = 0.1 liang). The adoption of silver units to denominate paper money attested to the prevalence of silver as the measure of value in private markets. Silver assumed particular importance as a store of value, a function that paper money and bronze coin could no longer perform. According to a contemporary Jin official, the new currency was designed to complement the use of silver in exchange: “At that time the prices of goods had soared, while the currency (i.e., both paper money and bronze coin) failed to circulate. Market transactions were conducted exclusively in silver. But silver was inconvenient as fractional currency, therefore the new paper money was established in order to serve this purpose.”16 It is impossible to assess whether the new paper currency achieved any success. Within a year the Mongols had vanquished the Jin and had taken possession of North China.

I’m including this just as an example of how academia’s dry tone can make even the most brutal and desperate of situations sound not just matter-of-fact, but downright civilized.

The Regency (Regentschap; Kabupaten) of Buitenzorg can be regarded in several aspects as a typical frontier area. Geographically it is wedged in between the city ofBatavia and its hinterland (the so-called Ommelanden) in the north, and the Priangan Regencies in the south. The Ommelanden can be regarded as a colony of settlement, consisting of the so-called Private Estates (Particuliere Landerijen). Owners are mostly Europeans and Chinese, with a sprinkling ofJavanese. A Private Estate may be called aplantation, but it has to be kept in mind that the term plantation covers a wide range of varying phenomena. If we want to be more specific it might help to place the Private Estates in the Ommelanden around 800o in the same class as the Latin American hacienda and the mediaeval European manor. They varied in size from small to very large, the mass of the inhabitants consisted of sedentary peasants with various forms of tenancy, and they had a demesne or owner-operated area with cash crops. The demesne could be worked with corvee labour or wagelabour; the peasantry paid rent (or, if you like, tax) either instead of corvee labour or on top of it. In the case of the Private Estates the commercial crop was often sugar, grown by wage-workers (bujangs), hired for a year. The bujangs also operated the sugar-mill. The peasantry paid a 'tax' of one-tenth of their staple crop, rice, the so-called cuke. They had to perform corvee labour once a week, but it seems that corvee labour was probably confined to the upkeep of roads and bridges and perhaps some transportation services. Whatever the official regulations were, however, there were many instances of landowners squeezing their peasantry dry. It is reported in 1795 that 11/16th of the average rice crop is paid as tax to the landowners. The administrative structure of the Ommelandenw as entirely European, with hardly any traces of indigenous elements left. The growth of the number of Private Estates and of their population had been so fast over the last decades of the eighteenth century that the development of the administrative apparatus had lagged behind, due to bureaucratic sluggishness and the restricted means of the Dutch East India Company (VOC). The drawbacks of that situation became more and more apparent from I790 onward, when robbery, murder and the use of opium assumed alarming proportions. To make up for a lack of police personnel, the landowners were permitted to keep private jails, where suspects could be held before being sent to the Commissioner in Batavia. Focal points of much mischief were the warungs or shops, for which every landowner could get a licence from the Commissioner (Gecommitteerde). Usually the landowner leased his licence to a Chinese for about a oo times as much as the original fee. Although 'shop' is the correct translation for warung, the idea conveyed by this term to a modern Westerner is quite misleading. A warung in the Ommelanden around 1800 was a brothel-cum-opium-den, doubling as gambling-house and cockpit. It was there that the unmarried bujangs spent their money and got into debt, which often marked the beginning of a criminal career, but sometimes the end of the Chinese warung-holder as well, because many a warung-keeper was murdered by his customers.5 The landowners and their mandadors or potias (European or Chinese administrators of an estate) stood also a fair chance of getting murdered, often as a result of severe treatment ('strenge behandeling') of their peasants and bujangs. But it was certainly not economic exploitation alone that shortened the average life expectation of the highhanded landowners in the Ommelanden Reverend Hooijman, landowner of Pondokgede was killed in 1800 sitting on his veranda on a Saturday night while preparing his sermon. The official report on his murder surmises that his extraordinary inclination towards the fair sex ('bijzondere neiging voor de schone kunne') must have caused his violent end.6 The death of mandador Bote in 1807 at the hands of a robber band three hundred strong, was occasioned by a personal grudge of Kyai Gede, leader of the bandits and formerly in cahoots with Bote. It seems that they made a deliberate detour to Ciampea, Bote's Estate, just to murder the mandador. Kyai Gede watched this spectacle protected against the tropical sun by a large payung (a ceremonial parasol, traditional attribute of high Javanese dignitaries), and surrounded by gamelan playing children and adolescents.7 This was no doubt an exceptional case: most robber bands were much smaller, usually any number between five and twenty-five, their leaders local bullies without aspirations as august as those of Kyai Gede, their aim plain robbery of anything movable, especially buffaloes. Bands like these could be handled by the mandador and his henchmen. In the case of Kyai Gede it would be more proper to speak of peasant unrest, and it was only with a large force of armed retainers of the combined landowners under the leadership of Johannes van den Bosch, landowner and professional soldier (the later Governor-General) that Kyai Gede could be killed and his band dispersed.

I mean, paid with food and lodging, not cash. No mention of whether anyone could leave: an important point, there.