“You strangely mistake me,” replied the major; “I never questioned the truth of these historical statements; I know full well that numerous substances have, at different times, and in different countries, been adopted in exchange, as conventional representatives of property. I have already stated that cattle were employed as the earliest measure of value [(31)]. We find, for instance, in Homer, that the golden armour of Glaucus was valued at a hundred, and that of Diomedes, at ten oxen. Among the Indians, cowries, or small shells, are used; and the Abyssinians employ salt, bricks, and beads for this very purpose; the ancient Britons are said to have circulated iron rings as money. The Hollanders, we know, coined great quantities of pasteboard in the year 1754; and Numa Pompilius certainly made money both of wood and leather.”
“And yet you doubt the authenticity of my leathern money, which I am fully persuaded was coined in 1360, by John, king of France, who, having agreed to pay our Edward the Third the sum of 3,000,000 golden crowns for his ransom, was so reduced as to be compelled to a coinage of leather for the discharge of his household expenses.”
“I have only questioned the authenticity of that specimen which I saw in your cabinet,” replied the major: “and so must any person who views it through a medium unclouded by prejudice. I will stake my whole library to a horn-book, that our friend Mr. Seymour will agree with me in pronouncing it a fragment of the heel of an old shoe: let him observe the perforation, and say, if he can, that it has not been produced by a nail or peg. But really, my dear Mr. Twaddleton, you have forced me, much against my inclination, into this controversy.”
“Very good, sir! very good! the heel of an old shoe, forsooth! But I thank you, Major Snapwell,” exclaimed the vicar with some warmth; “I thank you, sir. Your assertion, while it evinces your own want of historical information, establishes, beyond doubt, the authenticity of my treasure, and the triumph of my opinion.”
“Assuredly,” said Mr. Seymour, with a wicked smile; “I dare say there may be numerous holes in this leathern coin; for many have been the antiquaries who have, doubtless, pinned their faith upon it.”
“Psha, psha!” cried the vicar; “for once, at least, Mr. Seymour, let me entreat you to be serious; the subject, sir, is important, and merits your respect. It is from that very hole that I am enabled to identify the coin: yes, major, from that very hole, which you affect to despise, I am enabled to derive its principal claim to antiquity. Are we not expressly informed, that the leathern money of John of France had a little nail of silver driven into it?”
“Well, then,” continued the major, “what say you to that tell-tale stitch, which I so unfortunately picked out with my penknife?”
“Admirable ingenuity! most refined sophistry! provoking perversion!” exclaimed the vicar. “It is really amusing to observe the address with which the prejudiced observer distorts every fact to his own advantage. Why, bless me, sir, that stitch is strong enough to drag fifty such opponents out of the slough of unbelief.”
“Do explain yourself,” said Mr. Seymour.
“Explain myself! the stitch speaks for itself, sir. Were not these leathern coins strung together in different numbers, to facilitate payments? For, you will admit, that it would have been extremely inconvenient to have coined single pieces of leather, of different denominations. But stop, sir, stop; look at this, look at it, major, with care and attention. That,” said the vicar, as he drew a small coin out of his waistcoat pocket with an air of imperturbable gravity and self-satisfaction, “is a current halfpenny, in lead, of James II; and if your eyes are not hoodwinked by prejudice, you may probably perceive a piece of copper in its centre, which, we are told, was thus introduced for the purpose of rendering the currency lawful.”