Georgia. Suddenly, Spain asserted a new claim. According to this claim, the Spanish boundary ran north along the Flint River and continued north from the headwaters of the Flint to the Tennessee River. It then followed the Tennessee River to the Ohio and the Ohio to the Mississippi and juncture with recognized Spanish holdings west of the Mississippi. Included were lands in what is now the western part of Georgia, all of Alabama and Mississippi, the western parts of Tennessee and a portion of Kentucky.

It was strictly a paper claim supported only by a line on a map. Spain had no settlers to occupy the land, and correctly understood that her claim would soon be invalidated by the settlers that were then crossing the mountains.

The Governor of Spanish New Orleans at the time, and the man who was responsible for maintaining Spanish control of the Southwest, was Estiban Miro. In pushing Spanish interest, Miro settled on the principle of the stick and the carrot. On the one hand he would encourage the Indians to scourge the settlers. At the same time he would woo the settlers to renounce their ties with the United States and invite them to seek refuge in Spain's protection.

In 1784 he closed the lower Mississippi River to navigation by American boats.

This was the economic threat that the settler feared most. There were threats to mount an armed invasion to drive the Spanish from New Orleans, but in 1785, the United States Senate voted 7 to 2 to ratify a treaty that would recognize Spanish control of the lower Mississippi for a period of thirty years. The vote was not decisive; it required nine votes to ratify a treaty, but to the westerner it appeared to be a clear indication of the lack of congressional interest in the West.

With no one to turn to, the westerners were forced to rely on their own resources. Many questioned the advantage of being a part of a Nation that had no interest in their welfare. It was a time of discontent, and into the picture came a man who was superbly endowed to make the most of the situation. His name was James Wilkerson. As a merchant in double dealing,

Wilkerson was to make Benedict Arnold look like a piker.

Wilkerson was a native of Maryland. He had quit medical school to fight in the Revolution. On the surface, he had a creditable war record. Beneath that surface, he had been deeply involved in intrigue which included a plot to replace George Washington as Commander in Chief of the Colonial forces.

He had not been exposed. One of his special skills was a sixth sense that told him the opportune moment to switch sides or when it was to his advantage to betray former friends and fellow conspirators. In 1783 he arrived in Kentucky.

He was a small man and was now in a country where men made their way by brawn. But he had a glib tongue and an engaging personality that made both men and women like him. To his credit, he seems to have been a devoted family man. Within a short period he was the political leader of the Territory. In less time than that, he

was aware of the currents of discontentment that swirled through the frontier communities.

In 1787 he loaded a cargo of corn and tobacco onto a flatboat, and in defiance of the Spanish ban, set out for New Orleans. As soon as he landed, he confronted Governor Miro in his office. He charmed the Governor as easily as he had charmed the crude frontiersmen. Before he left the city, he had not only sold his cargo at a handsome profit, but had sworn allegiance to the King of Spain. He was duly entered on the Spanish intelligence rolls as Agent 13. In return for his salary from the Spanish Government, he had promised to use his influence to persuade the western settlers to secede from the United States and make their alliance with Spain.

When Wilkerson returned to Kentucky, he was much admired for his success to selling his crop to the Spanish. The price of corn and tobacco immediately went up, and if anyone suspected that he had sold more than his crop, no one

cared to make an accusation. Thereafter, Wilkerson made regular and optimistic reports to the Spanish Governor-and always with the suggestion that he could accomplish more if only he had more money.

For a career in intrigue, he had made a fair beginning, but in the years ahead he would also be on the payroll of England and France as well as Spain. To all three he sold the same service, his influence to win the West away from the United States and into the fold of whichever paymaster he happened to be in contact with at the time.

Any censure that he deserved, is somewhat diluted by the fact that almost every prominent westerner was speculating about the advantages of an alliance with either Spain, England or France at this time. In Tennessee, both John Sevier and James Robertson were openly flirting with Governor Miro, but with one difference, they were not on the Spanish payroll.

In 1788 Andrew Jackson moved to Nashville and took up residence in the home of Rachel Donaldson's widowed mother. He had come to practice law and brought with him his hounds, a single female slave and a vital piece of information. The new Federal Constitution had been adopted when New Hamphsire became the ninth state to vote for ratification on June 21.

Jackson was better received than his news. In Nashville, as elsewhere

in the West, people looked on the new Constitution with deep suspicion and considered it a grave threat to individual freedom.

Jackson, who as President would save the Union from a much later threat of secession, had hardly unpacked his bags before he was involved in the Spanish conspiracy.

In fact nationalism was nowhere strong in the new republic. These were men of a generation that had renounced their age-old allegiance to their King, and the new Nation was much too untried to evoke intense devotion or command unquestioned loyalty. Even in the East a man placed loyalty to his State before loyalty to the Union. If questioned, a man would say that he was a Virginian or a Massachusetts man before he would declare himself a citizen of the United States.

One of the last acts of the Congress operating under the Articles of Confederation had been to refuse to admit Kentucky into the Union as the 15th State. In 1788 delegates from all parts of the State met in Danville to decide what they should do in light of this rebuff. James Wilkerson was chairman of the convention. Without doubt, secession was discussed in the hallways and in the taverns, but no resolution to that end was ever introduced on the floor.

It is now impossible to say how much Wilkerson actually worked to bring about such a resolution. He

made regular reports to Miro, and strongly hinted that if he were entrusted with a large sum of money, he could buy the loyalties of many of the delegates. There is evidence that the Spanish forwarded a substantial sum to Wilkerson, but he delivered nothing.

It was in the context of this situation that Wayne's victory had its greatest meaning. After a series of humiliating defeats on many fronts, it gave westerners a reason to be proud of their countrymen. It showed them that their Government had not abandoned them to the mercy of their enemies. The victory did not put an end to secessionist sentiments, but it did turn faces toward the East.

There were other events that worked against the secessionists. Congress granted statehood to Kentucky and a bit later to Tennessee. Spain allied herself with the westerner's arch foe, Great Britain, and slowly the movement died on the vine.

To the north Wayne called the defeated tribes together and made a new treaty to be known as the Treaty of Greenville. For the third time he paid the Indians for the land they had agreed to vacate before the hoard of settlers crossing the Ohio. Out of the Treaty of Greenville came a new line and new promises to the Indians that time and circumstances would make void.

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