Read The Whiskey Rebels Online

Authors: David Liss

The Whiskey Rebels (55 page)

“It is a fantasy of Hamilton-haters,” I said. “Why should Hamilton wish to sacrifice the bank, the thing of which he is most proud, by surrendering it to Duer?”

“Hamilton wishes to erase the difference between the government and the moneyed interests,” said Freneau. “He wants to out-British the British, to build a corrupt nation, run by the rich, who use land and people as a factory for their greed.”

“It must be pleasant to believe one’s own lies,” I said.

“I have proof enough.” He patted his bag. “I can demonstrate what sort of a monster Duer is. His agents in Philadelphia and Baltimore and Charleston short government issues, and the word spreads, so the price declines. His agents in New York and Boston then buy them at a reduced price.”

“But how does that aid him?” I asked. “One set of agents loses money, the other set gains. Does that not eliminate, or at least reduce, his profits?”

“It would,” said Freneau, “if the agents shorting were using Duer’s money. No, these are more like partners, convinced that they are sharing risks and rewards with the great man. They don’t know it, but Duer sacrifices them in order to gain what he imagines to be ultimate wealth.”

“Is Jacob Pearson such a man?” I asked.

“He is,” Freneau said. “Duer has quite devastated Pearson’s holdings, but the man is too big a fool to see it. What remains of Pearson’s wealth will be put into the Million Bank, and then Duer will offer to help with Pearson’s new debt in exchange for his Million Bank shares.”

“That can’t be the only means by which Duer aims to get control of the bank.”

“No,” said Freneau. “He has other agents, men who will, in fact, use Duer’s money, to buy on the day of the launch.”

“Do you know who they are?”

“I have that information,” he said, patting his bag again. “But it is time for you to give me something.”

“I’ve heard a rumor that Pearson is in New York. Do you know if that’s true?”

“I have heard he is, but I have also heard he does not wish his whereabouts known.”

“So you can tell me nothing of it?” I pressed.

“Nothing,” said Freneau, “but one never knows when new information may be acquired. Make me your friend, sir, and I shall keep your questions in mind.”

I was distracted, thinking of Pearson, of his hitting Cynthia, of his fist striking her face. I thought of him threatening to harm his own children. I had thought Freneau could tell me, but he knew nothing. If he deceived me about anything, I believed, it was about the likelihood he might yet discover the information I wanted. “Very well,” I muttered.

“Tell me about Kyler Lavien,” said Freneau.

That brought me back to the conversation. I did not know how much Freneau and the Jeffersonians knew about Lavien, but anything was too much.

I looked at him and did my best to appear puzzled. “Who?”

“Don’t attempt to make me into a fool,” he said.

“How could I attempt myself what nature hath wrought to perfection?”

Freneau sat straight. “Do you break your word in order to protect a scoundrel like Hamilton?”

“I’ve grown somewhat fond of Hamilton,” I said. “I discover he is a decent man, and I’ll not help a bloodthirsty jackal like you libel his name because you refuse to recognize that he and Duer, however much they may once have been friends, are now set against each other. Can you not advance the cause of your democratical republicanism with the truth? If you can’t, perhaps it is not worth advancing.”

Freneau chose to act as though I’d said nothing. “I asked you to tell me about Lavien.”

“I cannot tell you of a man I’ve never heard of. Is he the French ambassador? Perhaps Jefferson knows him from all that time he spent in Paris, buying wines and furnishings, while the rest of us fought a war.”

Freneau, unflatteringly, allowed his eyes to bulge. “I’m sorry I told you anything. I wish I could take back my words.”

“And I wish all children of the world might be given the gift of beautiful flowers. Now be gone, you tedious man, and trouble me no longer.”

Freneau stood. “You will regret using me so.”

“I don’t think so,” I said. “I think, in fact, I will look back on this abuse with pleasure. Now, please go before I ask my man to knock you down again.”

Leonidas grinned at him, and that proved the final argument. He stood, cast us a resentful glance, and left the tavern.

I had hoped to find Pearson tonight, but my hopes had been dashed. Even so, it was hardly a disastrous evening. Indeed, I had every reason to be pleased with myself, and with this in mind I took the papers from Freneau’s bag and proceeded to see what he had to teach us.

 

John Maycott

Autumn and Winter 1791

B
ack in his house, while his wife attempted to walk noiselessly one floor above us, I sat with Mr. Pearson in his library. He poured me a glass of wine, and I sat in an armchair while he sat across from me on the sofa. I had a curious role to play, part child, part speculator, part seductress, and I was suddenly uneasy, aware of the noises of the street outside us, the clicking of the clock in the room, the distant barking of a dog. I sipped the wine so it would redden my lips, and then I began.

I spoke of the Million Bank, describing it as, yes, another bank attempting to capitalize on the public’s new mania for banks, but also far more. Under the correct circumstances, it could become the most powerful financial institution in the new country. It only required daring leadership. It require men who were willing to see the times for what they were, times of unchecked possibility, times in which destiny might be shaped by the bold and the clever.

Pearson, who imagined himself such a man and was indeed looking at my wine-darkened lips, hung upon my every word, so I told him how I believed a relatively small group of investors, if they could but command enough money, might attempt to take the whole initial stock offering; imagine, I said, what a cabal might do if it suddenly and for a relatively small investment found itself in control of a bank.

He stopped staring at my lips long enough to ask me how that might happen.

I explained that I thought a new bank might use the initial euphoria that followed its launch to take over another, more established bank, such as the Bank of New York, or even—for men of true audacity—the Bank of the United States.

Mr. Pearson finished his drink and poured another. He stared out the foggy window for a long moment while he worked his lips soundlessly, as though having a long and somewhat contentious conversation with himself. At last, apparently having won the argument, he turned back to me.

“You chose not to present this to Duer?”

“I did not wish to impose upon our friendship. He asks me for advice, yes, and values my opinion, but it did not seem right that I should offer to direct his affairs.”

“Let us be honest, Mrs. Maycott. That is not the reason at all. I think it is time for you to be direct with me.”

“Sir,” I said in protest. What had I done, I wondered, to tip my hand? Had I grown too lax in my deception? Had one success after another led me to lay down my guard? “If you have any reservations about what I say, you may feel free to disregard it. I remind you that it was you who wished me to speak.”

He laughed, loud and barking. It sounded either forced or seething with madness. “You bring it to me because you understand the way things are. Duer’s success is but a fluke, but I have had to build my achievements one brick at a time. He is nothing but a rich speculator, but you know a man of vision when you see one.”

I was on uncertain ground here, there could be no doubt of that, but at least I was not myself the subject of his suspicion. I masked the sound of my exhalation of relief. “Mr. Duer is my friend, and I have the greatest respect for his successes.”

“Of course, of course.” He laughed again, though this time less like a lunatic, and waved one of his big hands through the air. “But different men have different talents, and not everyone can be a visionary. Not everyone can be bold enough to see what is invisible to others.”

“That is most certainly true. Can I then conclude you think this is something that could be effected?”

“I think it can. It only lacks a man with both means and ambition enough.”

“It requires something else, of course. It requires capital, and only a handful of men in the country have enough to attempt such a thing. And, if I understand how things stand, there is only one man with the means who might be willing to try.”

“I will speak to Duer,” he said.

Understanding full well the value of a coup de théâtre, I said, “Then you must not mention my name. I do not go to him directly because I fear he will not take me seriously, but if you tell him the idea is from me, he may wonder why I did not trust him. It must be our secret.”

“But what do you gain if I take the credit for your idea?”

“I gain the satisfaction of feeling clever.”

 

S
everal days later, Mr. Duer and I sat in the City Tavern and he told me of what he understood to be Pearson’s scheme. His voice was strangely flat, and I wondered if I had somehow wandered into a trap. Did he know I had been deceiving him? Yet I could not back away now. I listened as he described my Million Bank scheme back to me in all its blunt, insane glory.

“Do you think it possible?” he asked me.

I pretended to give the matter a great deal of consideration. “I do think so, yes.”

He rubbed his hands together. “The trick will be how to shift Pearson away from attempting to order me about. It is a brilliant idea, but he would not know how to go about it. It is only by the strangest of flukes that he would even think of it before I did.”

“You need not worry,” I said. “Pearson likes to present himself as brilliant, but he is all bluster, and he knows it. You will make him do as
you
wish by letting him tell you that he is doing as
he
wishes, even while he follows you about as though led by the nose. You need only tend to his pride, and he will give you all you need.”

Duer smiled at me. “You are an astute observer of human nature. I should very much hate for you to be my enemy.”

I sipped my tea and said nothing. Over Duer’s shoulder, the scarred Mr. Reynolds smirked at me, and I could not help but wonder if he had been working on Duer, convincing him to doubt me. It was only a matter of time, of course, until Reynolds or circumstances proved to Duer that he’d been foolish to be so open with me, but I was almost certain that the time was not yet here.

 

Joan Maycott

December 1791

I
t was when the scheme to take charge of the Million Bank was under way that we first became aware of Ethan Saunders, who was to become so significant an actor in the events that followed. Since I had formed my friendship with Duer, he and his followers had redoubled efforts to gain a controlling interest of six percent issues. There were now two fairly significant irons in the fire, and when we met one evening at Pearson’s house to talk of these things, it was I who raised the question for the first time.

“At some point,” I said, “these activities are going to attract Hamilton’s attention, are they not?”

“Oh, that is nothing,” said Duer. “I can tend to Hammy. All he requires is a kind word, and he shall be satisfied. To know him is to understand he is more dog than man.”

Duer and I had more than once discussed Pearson’s need to exaggerate his own importance, but Duer was frequently guilty of the same sin. When Hamilton’s name came up, he would pretend to a closeness and influence for which I had never seen evidence. This above all concerned me, for if Hamilton were to discover Duer’s activities too early, Duer would indeed be ruined but Hamilton would walk away—perhaps not unscathed but relatively intact.

“I think she’s right,” said Pearson, scenting Duer’s blood. He was now significantly in debt because of his involvement in Duer’s schemes, and he had borrowed recklessly from the Bank of the United States, in order to continue losing money and to have enough to invest personally in the Million Bank launch. There were rumors about town that he had even begun to sell off some of his real estate holdings, and if that was the case he was more precariously poised than I had realized or intended. If he fell from the precipice now, I had no notion of how I would save his wife and children, other than to give them money of my own.

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