COURT DAY
The old-time county court, held once a month, usually on Monday, was an
interesting feature of early statehood.
Judging by the crowds that always assembled at the county-seat upon
court day, one would have supposed that if legal business were the main
feature of the occasion, a surprising amount of litigation was
necessary to the well-being of the commonwealth. But legal business was
often the least important feature of these gatherings, which seemed to
combine the characteristics of picnic, county fair, muster day and old
English hustings.
From an early hour upon court day, all was excitement, noise and
confusion in and around the county-seat. The discordant bleating and
lowing of sheep and cattle filled the air, and droves of swine, after
the manner of their kind, refusing to be driven quietly to the
market-place, wandered into byways, or sought refuge in stable lots and
house yards. In fence corners and under trees, along every approach to
the town, horses were hitched--many of them with heaps of provender on
the ground before them, that they might feed at any hour which suited
their appetites; and vehicles of every known pattern, from family coach
to ox-cart, thronged the highways. It was a gala time for the
slave-buyer, stock-trader, horse-jockey, and itinerant packman, as well
as for the politician and the militia men. Not only was there much
trading and political speech-making, but also horse-racing,
cock-fighting, gambling and drunkenness; for society, even in the good
old times, contained a large rioting element.
At Fayette County court, however, the chief interest was usually the
political; and the most popular rendezvous was the tree-bordered
enclosure surrounding the court-house, until the noon hour; then the
center of interest was the tavern, which, though but a two-storied log
house, having only eleven rooms to serve all purposes of dining-hall,
office, kitchen and guest chambers, was a famous resort. The sleeping
apartments were large, and each was furnished with four beds. Always as
many as two guests to a bed, and frequently as many as three, was the
economical rule of the house--an arrangement which, though possibly
inconvenient in some respects, was one likely to encourage a spirit of
democratic sociability.
Abner Dudley accepted Major Gilcrest's invitation to accompany him in
his coach to Lexington upon a certain court day which was an occasion
of unusual excitement. Tidings that the trade of the Mississippi River
was again endangered had just been received. The treaty of 1795, which
secured to Kentucky the right of navigation of the Mississippi and the
right of deposit in the New Orleans Bank, had now come to a termination
by limitation of treaty; and the Spanish Intendant of the province of
Louisiana had issued a proclamation that there should be no renewal,
although it had been plainly stipulated in the former treaty that the
privileges should be renewed. The indignation which this act of broken
faith produced in Kentucky was greatly augmented by tidings which had
just reached the State that Louisiana had been ceded by Spain to France
by the treaty made secretly in 1800, but not made public until 1802.
The failure of all former efforts to induce Kentucky to sever her
allegiance to the Union and to join her fortunes with Spain had not
destroyed the hopes of the Spaniards and of self-seeking Kentucky
agitators. Thus the revival of the old troubles over the navigation of
the Mississippi afforded an opportunity of which treacherous
conspirators were not slow to avail themselves.
During the noon repast at the tavern, Dudley and James Drane had been
neighbors at table; and when the meal was concluded, the two had linked
arms and strolled up and down the wide portico running the length of
the tavern, and serving to-day as a reception-room for the tavern and
as a political arena for groups of excited men who were hotly
denouncing Spain and all her works. Other groups near by were as
earnestly, but far less noisily, insinuating that Spain was the best
friend Kentucky could have, and that her interests lay in the direction
of an alliance with the foreign power.
Somewhat apart from the larger groups three men were talking in low
tones. Presently, at a sign which, unperceived by Dudley, passed
between his companion and one of the men, Drane, saying that he desired
to introduce Abner to three of the most agreeable and gifted men of the
age, drew him toward the trio at one end of the porch, and presented
him to General Wilkinson, Judge Sebastian and Judge Murray. Immediately
after the introduction, Drane excused himself and withdrew. Before any
conversation, save the usual exchange of introductory courtesies, had
passed between the three distinguished Kentuckians and our young
Virginian, Hiram Gilcrest came through the door opening from the hall.
Seeing Dudley in what was apparently a confidential conversation with
the three older men, Gilcrest stood a moment in the doorway, frowning
heavily; then, turning, he strode through the hall to the negro
quarters of the hotel. Here he found Uncle Zeke, his coachman, and
ordered him to prepare for a speedy return home. When he returned to
the porch, he walked up to the group of which Dudley was one, and said
to him, after a somewhat curt salutation to the other three, "I am
sorry to cut short your day's pleasure, but I find that a matter of
grave importance necessitates our leaving immediately."
On the homeward drive Gilcrest explained the reason for this hasty
retreat. "You were in the company of three of the slyest and most
dangerous intriguers of these unsettled times. They are brilliant,
daring men, and I fear many of our adventurous young men are being led
away by their specious arguments and schemes for future greatness. You
have never been in their company before to-day, have you?" with a keen
glance at his companion.
Dudley explained that he had only exchanged a few words of ordinary
civility with the three before Gilcrest had interrupted the
conversation. He did not, however, mention that Drane had brought about
the meeting, and had spoken of the men in glowing terms.