My business being concluded, I went back to my table and collected my things, making a show of preparing to leave. I hoped I would be stopped. I hoped my sagacity would, after this one trade, be enough to attract interest, but I could not be certain. If not, I would have to risk more trades, though there would be diminishing returns, for each new success would be regarded less with admiration and wonder and more with suspicion.
I need not have worried, for I felt a hand fall upon my elbow, and when I turned, my smile quite prepared, I met the eye of none other than Mr. William Duer himself. I had not known he was present and had not seen him arrive. I had hoped he would be on the scene to watch his little deception, and here he was, witness to my own. He stood before me, the principal villain of my life’s woe, the man who had, through his conniving and greed, destroyed everything I loved. This man had murdered my child and my Andrew, and he now smiled at me.
“Madam, William Duer of New York at your service.” He bowed to me. “Though I observe from a thousand little things that you are new to the business of trading, you have impressed me with your knowledge and your coolness. I wonder if you would honor me by joining me for a dish of chocolate upstairs, where the rooms are far quieter.”
I met the monster’s gaze directly. “Mr. Duer, I should be foolish indeed to neglect the attentions of a man so well regarded as yourself.” And thus it was that we went upstairs together.
Ethan Saunders
I have never enjoyed traveling long distances by road. The movement of the coach prevents any reading or other amusement, and there is little to do that passes the time other than conversation with strangers, yet the quality of strangers in a coach is never high. Instead one must endure perpetual jostling, an ongoing merciless rump paddling, combined with rough swaying and shoving. In winter, when the windows must be closed against the cold, the stench is of stewing bodies, of breath and garlic and onion and unclean breeches. Above that is the smell, too, of old damp wood, wet wool and leather, and inevitable flatulence. It is an unkind experience.
The roads, at least, were clear. It had not snowed hard in several days, and the precipitation on the King’s Highway had been well tramped down by previous expresses. Our coach was typical of the sort: a long enclosed cart capable of holding nine people, divided into four benches with leather curtains that could be drawn for the slender pretense of privacy. It lacked storage for our bags, so we were forced to set our allotted fourteen pounds’ worth before us. The four horses that pulled us made good time, but even so there was little to do but watch the scenery pass.
Having Leonidas by my side did make matters pass more agreeably, for it provided me with someone to whom to whisper disparaging comments about our fellow travelers. And soon enough I discovered that I might gain at least something from the journey, for it turned out that, typical of this run between New York and Philadelphia, nearly every man aboard was a speculator traveling upon business. One of our companions, a tall man with narrow diabolical eyes that rested under bushy brows, asked me my business. I thought it a good idea to hold out bait and said I went to New York in order to put a lately deceased cousin’s estate in order. I received some questions regarding how much money I’d been left and if I had any interest in investing in this fund or that project, but otherwise I did not excite much interest among my fellow travelers.
Soon these speculators forgot that we were even present, and they began to speak freely among themselves. Their talk centered largely around the price of six percent government issues. They were in agreement that Duer banked upon the decline of government securities and that his agents were shorting them significantly in Philadelphia. Beyond this, much of what they had to say regarded how cheaply loans were to be got, both from the Bank of the United States and the Bank of New York. This made investment in the funds logical, but one of the principal problems in doing so seemed to be that Duer was so active in shorting the funds that only a fool would buy when he might sell.
To ensure that this line of credit would continue, should there be a curtailing on the part of the two major banks, Duer had involved himself in a scheme to found a new bank in New York, to be called the Million Bank.
Leonidas and I barely risked exchanging glances. I showed no particular interest but merely asked how long this plan had been in the works.
The wart-nosed speculator turned to me. “If you have some interest in investing in the new banks, you may call upon me in New York. I can broker any investment you choose.”
“I would need to know more before I could invest any money.”
“You need only know that, if you hesitate, someone else will take your place-and willingly too. Interest in the banks has risen so high that investors are calling it a bancomania. I promise you that you will find my commissions to be very reasonable, but the Million Bank launches this coming Wednesday, so if you wish to benefit from this opportunity you will need to act quickly.”
He handed me his card, and I pretended to look at it with interest.
One of the other speculators turned to me. “You may be sure he speaks the truth. If you do not act quickly, you may lose the opportunity. However, that may not be a good enough reason to invest.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“The Bank of the United States was born under the guidance of the Treasury Secretary, who is a capable man, and the Bank of New York and the Bank of North America have stood the test of time. But these new banks are only ventures designed to make money for the first investors. There is no thought of the bank’s future prospects, which, because neglected, must be poor. Take my advice and act with caution.”
The wart-nosed man turned to his colleague. “I say, that was rather unkind of you, frightening off a customer. ’Tis rather rude to do that to a man who is sharing your coach.”
“Is he not also sharing my coach?” the other asked.
The wart-nosed man pondered this question for a moment. “Perhaps so, but I stood to make money by enticing him. You stood to make none by dissuading him. That sort of thing-well, ’tis hardly better than vandalism.”
“Some would call it integrity,” I suggested.
“Whoever would say that never worked upon commission in his life,” he answered.
W e made excellent time and arrived that afternoon, very late, at the New Jersey side of the Hudson, where we concluded our journey by ferry. Arriving in full dark, we were greeted at once by the bustle of New York. I had abided in that city for some years after the war and always liked it, without wishing to call it my home. It was full of frenetic people who could be little troubled to speak to a stranger, though once you started conversing with a New Yorker, he could no more stop himself from speaking than a river can stop flowing. I have ever felt fondness for Philadelphia, and it is in many ways a far more gracious city in which to live, but I could not help but feel regret that the capital was no longer in New York, which I had ever thought, with its sharpish tone, the very place for a national seat. Of all the cities in America, it has the most European flavor, with its international fashions, its excellent eateries, its diversions, and its variety. The streets are peopled with speakers of a hundred languages, and the harbor is ever full, even in winter, with ships stretching out into a forest of masts.