"No, sir, no, sir! I deny the statement. Burr is not getting justice.
Daviess is a persecutor, not a prosecutor. He hates Burr as he hates
every Republican. He rakes up all the filthy lies of the past,
concerning Burr and Wilkinson, and peddles them round in that
dung-cart, _The Western World_, which his man Friday, John Wood,
drives."
"You'd best not talk too loud, Hadley; Wood is at the door."
"Who wants John Wood?" bawled the bearer of that name. "Hadley, you?"
"No; I avoid you and your paper. You ought to be sued for libel. I say
to you as I just now said to Ogden, that Jo Hamilton Daviess is making
this fuss, not for furtherance of law and justice, but to blacken the
name of Burr."
"Burr blackened it himself," retorted Wood, "with the blood of
Hamilton."
"Black blood it was, from a black heart. Don't say anything against
that duel here in Kentucky!" said Hadley.
The wrangle, of which the foregoing speeches were a part, took place
in Frankfort, Kentucky, on the morning of December 2, 1806. The town
was thronged with zealous partisans, Federalists and Republicans, from
near and far. Scores of sturdy ploughmen and cavalcades of
stock-raisers had ridden from their Blue Grass farms to the State
capital, on horses of a breed and beauty unsurpassed in the world.
Every tavern, blacksmith-shop, and grocery drew its crowd, for the
weather was cold, and the country folks were glad of a chance to warm
themselves while they boisterously discussed the latest phases of the
legal proceeding then in progress, involving the reputation of Aaron
Burr, and threatening his personal liberty.
Daviess, a staunch Federalist, controlled a political newspaper, the
avowed purpose of which was "to drag to light the men who had been
concerned with Miro in the Spanish conspiracy of 1787." Daviess had
written to Jefferson accusing General Wilkinson of having been in
Spanish pay, and later had charged both Wilkinson and Burr with the
grossest disloyalty. These two men were openly and repeatedly attacked
in the paper, a copy of which Wood held in hand when he confronted
Hadley.
"You can't smutch the character of Daviess," said Wood. "His name is
above suspicion. He performs his duty as United States District
Attorney without fear or favor."
"You are not competent to give an unbiased opinion; your
bread-and-butter depends upon the man who set you up in business."
The sneer drew applause from a majority of those in the store. Burr
had won the heart of the populace. Wood returned a sharp rejoinder.
"What a pity that some good man has not set Hadley up in a better
business than pettifogging. Apply to your patron, Judge Innes. Lick
his foot. There's an immaculate judge for you! Talk of corruption!
I've been present at every session of the court whenever the case of
Burr came up. Away back as early as the beginning of November Daviess
moved for a process to compel the attendance of Burr in court to
answer charges of treason. Daviess made affidavit that he had positive
evidence of Burr's plotting to wage war against Spain, invade Mexico,
and break up the Union. What was the action of Judge Hary Innes? He
overruled the motion--denied the course of justice."
"No," broke in the other, "he denied the motion because there were no
grounds for the charge."
"Hold on, Mr. Hadley, till I am through. I want these young men from
the Blue Grass and from Lexington to know the truth, the whole truth,
and nothing but the truth."
"Fust time truth ever come from the editor of _The Western World_!"
growled a backwoodsman in buckskin breeches. "I'll bet my money on
Burr. Burr ought to be President 'stid of Jefferson. He was cheated
out of the Presidency."
"That's the talk!" put in a squeaky-voiced old man, wiping his lips
with the back of his hand, after having taken a drink of cheap
whiskey, for a dram went gratis with every purchase, and old Jim Sweet
had bought a long woollen "comfort" for his scrawny neck. "That's the
talk, gen'l'men. I say, hurrah for Wilkinson and Burr and Harry Clay!
I wisht Clay had popped a hole in Daviess, jest like Burr did in
Hamilton. Why didn't they fight? They say Daviess sent a challenge.
Wonder why that dool 'tween Jo and Harry never come off?"
Hadley shrugged his shoulders.
"That gits me," continued Jim. "Reckon it were a case of one askeert
and an' t'other da'sn't, eh, Hen?"
"Skeert nothin'!" mumbled the backwoodsman. "Clay's a dead shot."
The man of the newspaper here put in. "Daviess sent Clay a challenge;
that's certain."
"Yes! an' there's another fack what's durn certain, my friend, or I'm
a liar!" The backwoodsman roused himself from his stooping posture and
sat glaring at the editor. "Harry Clay done accepted Daviess's
challenge; an' if matters was arranged satisfactory to both parties
without no pluggin', I reckon there ain't no need of comments from
outsiders."
Editor Wood, aware that the public sentiment was against him,
prudently withdrew, leaving the floor to Hadley, which zealous
Democrat, addressing sympathetic auditors, voiced their feelings and
his own.
"I was in the court room, and I saw some of you there when first
Daviess tried to calumniate Burr; and I was there when Innes overruled
the motion. That was a great day. The judge had scarcely finished
speaking when Burr himself, just from Lexington, entered the
court-house. He made the neatest speech ever I heard--perfectly calm
and dignified--and he asked for a full and free investigation--the
sooner the better, he said--_now_, if possible. You heard that
speech, Jim, didn't you?"
Old Jim, who, with trembling hands, was in the act of adjusting his
new comfort, swore he had heard all the great preachers and lawyers of
his day, but Burr knocked the persimmons.
"Do you recamember, Hen," said he, familiarly addressing Hadley. "Do
you recamember how Daviess hopped up and snarled out, 'You shall have
all the _investigation_ you want!' He said it in jest that tantulatin'
style. 'All the in-ves-ti-gation you want.' _I_ was riled. I hissed."
"Like an old snappin' turtle," said the backwoodsman.
"I recollect," resumed Hadley, "the judge fixed the next Wednesday for
the hearing, as Burr desired. Wednesday came, but Daviess wasn't
ready. One of his witnesses absent. What could the judge do but
discharge the jury? He did discharge the jury, and then, gentlemen, we
had another surprise! No sooner had those jurymen left the box than in
marched Burr once again, and said he regretted that the jury had been
discharged, and asked the reason. Daviess buzzed up, like a mad
hornet, and explained that one of his principal witnesses, Davis
Floyd, was in Indiana attending a territorial legislature. Everybody
burst out laughing, and the judge had to call the court to order. You
ought to have seen Burr! Without cracking a smile, he desires that the
cause of Floyd's absence be entered upon record. Then he makes another
address, partly to the court and partly to the people, denying in toto
the charges against him, and insisting on a fair investigation. There
is not a franker, more open-and-above-board soul living than this same
Aaron Burr of New York! They can't catch him by any tricks of law or
lying. He won't be downed. To-day comes the last tug of war. I never
saw such another crowd in this town as we have now to attend court.
All Frankfort is here, all Lexington, and pretty much all Kentucky."
"I'll be danged," piped old Jim, "if I don't start right away and try
to git a bench. An ailin' man, like me, can't scrouge, as I used to
could."
"Go 'long wi' me; I'll jam you through the crowd, or mash you, Jim,"
offered the backwoodsman. "Fetch out the jug, Sanders, it's my treat.
Come up to the counter, neighbors, 'less you mean to insult me. Here,
use this dipper, Jim. All must drink--yes, you too, Solly." These
last words were addressed to a ghost-like man with a long white beard
and insane eyes, who had glided into the store. He was recognized by
all present under the name of "Solly," an abbreviation of Solitarius.
The demented fanatic sadly shook his head.
"Peace be with you all. Amen!"
"Amen, Solly; how's the Halcyon Itinerary?" asked Hadley, in playful
irony. "Where's your revelations?"
"Awake from your dreams." This monition, uttered in a slow, solemn
tone, was received by the loafers good-naturedly, being advice they
had often heard from the same lips.
"This whiskey'll wake 'em up, Solly, if anything this side of liquid
fire can. Here's a tinful for you."
The crazy prophet waved the offering away, raised his palms in silent
benediction, and glided out as noiselessly as he had entered.
"Badly cracked," said the grocery-keeper.
"Religion done it," exclaimed Old Jim, between swallows.
The drinks having been paid for, the entire company, led by the
backwoodsman, left the store and hurried to the court-house.