The scrip issued by the town authorities to aid the building of the bridge, passed everywhere without question, from the banking-house of Kendrick & Burnham to the farmer’s stall in the Oakdale market. In fact, the people rather preferred it to “greenbacks,” though at first they had eyed it suspiciously, and asked questions. Then it came to be called “Bridge Scrip,” and the “count’s money,” and was everywhere the text of crude, or deep, financial theories. Said Kendrick, one of the town-council, “This paper is out to the amount of fifty thousand dollars. The taxes have just been collected, but the people took no pains to pay their taxes with it. They did so only in a few cases. I don’t see why it might not be kept forever in circulation.”
“Only,” said another, “we stand committed to burn it as fast as it comes in.”
“Of course. I know that, and don’t intend to prevent it; but I only say, why would anything but good come by keeping it in circulation? The men who built the bridge are paid. Von Frauenstein was paid by this paper. He has got it all paid out to his workmen. The scrip has done its work, and it still keeps on working. I only ask, why not let it work for us—that is, the town? It is not only as good as it was at first, but a good deal better, for the town is rich, as everybody knows. What do you think about it, Dr. Forest?”
“I? I think specie basis all rot. It is simply a relic of barbarism—when there was no commerce, only barter. Then, when civilization advanced a little, and men wanted to sell their ivory, and the buyer had not rhinoceros hides, or whatever was wanted in exchange, there arose the necessity for something, to give in exchange for the ivory, that would buy what the seller wanted. Naturally the first money was bright beads, bright metal coins—things of intrinsic value. As civilization progresses, barter ceases, and commerce commences. We have arrived then at the conception of value, and use a mere symbol of it. We don’t want money now that has intrinsic value, any more than we want a figure nine with nine positive strokes in it, or a yard-stick made of gold.”
“But you must have a basis of wealth,” said one of the listeners. “I know we don’t want coin for business purposes. It is unhandy and cumbrous. The commerce of to-day could not march a step without bank-notes and checks. Now the United States issues our paper-money; but it must keep specie in its treasury vaults to the amount of the paper issued, according to some.”
“Which it does not do,” said the doctor, “and everybody knows it. You are mistaken in supposing that. It is required simply to keep a certain specie reserve; that is all.”
“Why don’t we bust up then?” asked an awkward new-comer, who felt the heavy responsibility of citizenship.
“We can’t ‘bust up,’ my friend,” said the doctor, with a very broad smile, “because we have a much better foundation for this paper-money than rhinoceros hides, wampum, or gold coin. That foundation is the wealth of the nation, and the credit of the people.”
“I don’t understand,” said Kendrick, “how you would fix your basis.”
“My idea,” said the doctor, “is that of many who have studied the subject profoundly: that the basis should be the cereals and certain other commodities necessary to the support of life and comfort. Average their prices during twenty years, in order to get at your unit of value, or dollar.”