At last the war ended. The cannibals were utterly repulsed; and the islanders no longer laid awake nights for fear of being roasted and eaten. A vast amount of every thing useful had, however, been necessarily destroyed; and it would seem as if this admitted fact would have made the people of the island feel poor. But, very curiously, it did not. The promises to pay for the commodities destroyed had all been preserved. They were regarded by almost every body as money; and if money, then, of course, as every body knew, they were wealth, and wealth so great and superabundant that the one thing especially necessary to do was to devise plans for using it. Every body, therefore, devised plans; those who had no money more especially devising plans for those who had. All sorts of schemes were accordingly entered upon; railroads to carry people to the isothermals and every other place where they didn’t want to go; and oil-wells on Cheat and Al(l)gon(e)quin rivers, and patented inventions for making substitutes for tea and coffee, being especially recommended as permanent investments. John Law, Lemuel Gulliver, Baron Munchausen, Sir John Mandeville, Juan Ferdinand Mendez-Pinto, and Sindbad the Sailor, all came to town, and were chronicled in the newspapers as having registered at the principal hotels.

Great and commendable industry was also displayed in replacing the things destroyed by the war, so that, for a time, the societary circulation became more brisk than ever; while some who had up to this time regarded war as a misfortune and national calamity, now felt that they had made a mistake; and others who had known all the time that war was a blessing, seriously thought of proposing another war as a means of increasing national prosperity.1 The large and constant investment of the results of labor and economy in enterprises which never could by any possibility give back any adequate return, was, as every body saw, the next best thing to war; and on the advice of the most Christian newspapers, very many of the best people made haste to make such use of their little savings; although, as agriculturists, they were perfectly well aware that to plant seed wheat or corn in soils where it would not come up, or, coming up, bear no fruit, was always very bad business, and did not encourage the sower to hire much additional labor the next year.

Another idea which about this time had become very popular on the island was, that while it was a very desirable thing to sell as much as possible of the products of the island to people in other countries, it was not desirable to buy any thing from foreigners in return, and that it was wise to put all possible obstructions in the way of any ill-informed persons who desired to make such exchanges. But as no one can long continue to buy unless he proportionally sells, or sell unless he proportionally buys, the foreign commerce of the island soon came to a stand-still; and what also notably helped to this result was, that the necessity of insuring all exchanges made through the medium of the unstable currency of the island caused all the island products to cost from five to ten or fifteen per cent. more than they otherwise would, and more than they would cost the foreigners to buy elsewhere.2 But as every industrious community (especially if it calls in the aid of the forces of nature through machinery) produces more than it consumes; and as the islanders were both industrious and ingenious, it oddly enough happened that the community became sorely troubled by an accumulation of useful things, which the manufacturers would not part with, because they were unwilling to sell at a loss, and which the foreigners would not buy because they could buy cheaper elsewhere, and pay in their own products for what they bought. Then the manufacturers stopped producing, and next the laborers, by lack of employment, being unable to buy a full share of the existing abundance, in turn diminished their consumption; so that for a time it seemed as though the island would get into the condition of those unfortunate people who die of their own fatness.

In this way the times gradually “got out of joint.” Gradually the people on the island came to realize that much which they had considered as wealth was not wealth, and that many influences, before little regarded, were powerfully acting to make and keep them poor. All were satisfied that the currency which they were using was one prime cause of their difficulties, but in precisely what manner the currency exerted an influence few agreed. All were of one mind, that they ought to talk about it continually; and they accordingly did so, those who knew the least talking the most. Some thought that the honest thing to do, and because honest the best, was for the Government of the island to redeem its promises to pay on demand as rapidly as possible; that where they had borrowed a canoe of one man, cloth of another, spears of a third, or money of a fourth, they should return them, and not keep promising and never doing. But even these did not agree as to the manner of thus paying. Some thought it was best to return the canoes, the iron, the cloth, and the money from day to day as the Government gradually acquired them. Others thought that a better way would be to accumulate each separate thing in a separate warehouse, and then when the warehouses had, after some years, become full, open the doors, and return every man what had been borrowed of him all at once. But, as before pointed out, the Government never had, or could have, any canoes, cloth, iron, or money, except such as it obtained from the people; and, therefore, payment on the part of the Government was really the same thing as payment on the part of the people. But payment of debts is something to which many people are constitutionally opposed; and this scheme accordingly found many opponents, who alleged that, if it were carried out, it would deprive them of money, and consequently of instrumentalities for making their exchanges; while the real trouble with many of this class of people was, that they hadn’t any thing useful, the products of their own industry, to exchange, and therefore could get no money, unless they went to work, or, what was preferable, acquired it from somebody without consideration.

Besides the persons referred to, who either openly or by their indecision opposed fiscal reform, there were various other classes of obstructives. There were those, for example, who, during the war, were always friends of peace, dressed in broad-brimmed hats and drab coats, and were at any time ready to compromise with the cannibals, on condition that the latter should be satisfied with roasting and eating only the old men, the babies, and an occasional mother-in-law. All such, as a part of their peace policy, opposed the original issue and circulation of the bluebacks as something arbitrary, illegal, and unnecessary. When, however, the cannibals were driven away, these “friends of peace in time of war” at once changed their Quaker garb; became “friends of war in time of peace;” declared earnestly for the enlarged issue and continued use of the bluebacks, and, as a pretext for so doing, were willing, if necessary, to have another war, or, at least, an annual scare. During the war, these friends of peace were called “copper-heads;” and after the war, their copper-headism, although disguised, was substantially the same thing. For it was apparent that opposition to the issue of the bluebacks, as manifested by the advocates of peace during the war, and opposition to their payment and withdrawal after the war, were only different manifestations of hostility to the Government and to the war itself: inasmuch as failure on the part of the Government to observe its promises, made under such circumstances of extreme peril, would manifestly put it in bad repute, and prevent it from ever resorting to similar measures in like emergencies.3 The really intelligent and patriotic men of the island at once saw through this duplicity and repudiation, advocated under pretense of extreme solicitude for the wants of trade. They remembered the old couplet:

and thereafter designated the opponents of paying the bluebacks, as inflated, or elongated, copper-heads, by which name they were ever after known in history.

There were also many well-meaning citizens, who sincerely desired to have the balloon of inflation come down, but strenuously objected to have this result effected by any diminution of the volume of gas contained in it. All the first-cousins of the man who waited for the river to run by before crossing were certain the balloon would come down, if people would only be patient, keep a sharp lookout, and wait. But to this it was objected, that if people were obliged to consume a large part of their time in watching the balloon, to avoid having their heads smashed by its swayings and fluctuations, there would ultimately be a scarcity of victuals and drink; and that, rendered desperate with watching, and want of employment, food, and clothing, those interested would finally insist on pulling open the valves, and letting the whole volume of gas escape at once. Some proposed to imitate the example of “Peter the Headstrong” in fighting the Yankees, and bring down the balloon by proclamation; while others professed to have great faith in family prayer. Eminent patriotic constitutional lawyers maintained that the military necessity that authorized and created the bluebacks must necessarily limit their duration solely to the period of their military necessity; and that their continued re-issue and use after the repulse of the cannibals was but a prolongation of the war—not against the enemy, but against their own people. The astute elongated copper-head lawyers held, on the other hand, that an instrument of military necessity, once created, remains such an instrumentality for continued use for all time; and, therefore, that a bullet or shell, once lawfully employed for effecting destruction in time of war, could legitimately be reissued or reshot in time of peace, without matter as to whom it might hit or what property it might destroy; and that, in fact, to go on reloading and refiring these instruments, and thereby killing and destroying, were not crimes, but high acts of patriotism. This theory, however, alarmed some timid people, who said that one shell or one bullet thus re-used indefinitely might destroy all the property, or kill all the people on the island; and they rather regretted, in view of such a construction, that they did not at once succumb to the cannibals, whose appetites, in time, might have become cloyed, or whose diet might have been changed through indigestion or moral suasion.

In the period of doubt and perplexity which thus came to the community, those fond of precedents carefully searched the old chronicles and records of other nations for lessons of experience; and, among various things which profited them greatly, they found, among the chronicles of the learned Spanish historian, Fray Antonio Agapida, the following account of what the veteran soldier, Don Inigo Lopez de Mendoza, Count de Tendilla, did, when, besieged by the Moors in the town of Alhama, he had also serious financial difficulties to contend with:

“It happened,” says Agapida, “that this Catholic cavalier, at one time, was destitute of gold and silver wherewith to pay the wages of his troops; and the soldiers murmured greatly, seeing that they had not the means of purchasing necessities from the people of the town. In this dilemma, what does this most sagacious commander? He takes me a number of little morsels of paper, on the which he inscribes various sums, large and small, according to the nature of the case, and signs me them with his own hand and name. These did he give to the soldiery, in earnest of their pay. ‘How!’ you will say, ‘are soldiers to be paid with scraps of paper?’ ‘Even so,’ I answer, ‘and well paid, too, as I will presently make manifest; for the good count issued a proclamation ordering the inhabitants of Alhama to take these morsels of paper for the full amount thereon inscribed, promising to redeem them at a future time with silver and gold, and threatening severe punishment to all who should refuse. The people, having full confidence in his word, and trusting that he would be as willing to perform the one promise as he certainly was able to perform the other, took these curious morsels of paper without hesitation or demur. Thus, by a subtile and most miraculous kind of alchemy, did this Catholic cavalier turn worthless paper into precious gold, and make his late impoverished garrison abound in money!’

“It is but just to add,” continues the historian, “that the Count de Tendilla redeemed his promises, like a loyal knight; and this miracle, as it appeared in the eyes of Agapida, is the first instance on record of paper money.”5

It may be also remarked that the island antiquarians did not find any chronicle of any other soldier who imitated Count de Tendilla in issuing “little morsels of paper” to serve as money, and subsequently did not imitate him in promptly redeeming his promises, who found it easy to obtain again the confidence of the soldiers or the people when he again got into similar difficulties.6