Chapter V: Part 5

Wilkinson, one of the American leaders in the plot, saw the chance to turn Spanish fears to his account. He made two trips to New Orleans, ingratiated himself with Miro, and wrung from him a concession to deposit his goods at New Orleans and to enjoy other special commercial privileges. In return he swore allegiance to the Spanish crown and engaged to act as a secret agent. In the Spanish reports he was thereafter to be designated as “Number Thirteen.” It was a relationship Wilkinson was to maintain with Miro and his successors for more than a decade. The Spaniards agreed also to grant Wilkinson a pension of $2000 a year. But communications on the frontier were primitive; a pension payable in silver dollars did not always get through.

In spite of this new source of income Wilkinson’s extravagance kept him on the verge of bankruptcy. To add to his difficulties, the Spaniards reversed their policy and withdrew his trading privileges. Wilkinson was driven to selling most of his personal possessions. In this extremity he accepted a commission in the United States Army, took part as second in command in General Anthony Wayne’s invasion of the Wabash country, burned and pillaged with the best of them, and gained quite a reputation as an Indian fighter. At this time President Washington, making a summary of the general officers of the army, damned Wilkinson with faint praise, commenting that “little can be said of his abilities as an officer. He is lively, sensible, pompous and ambitious, but whether sober or not is unknown to me.”

Wayne learned of Wilkinson’s Spanish connections and warned the Government. When President Washington, toward the close of his administration, sent Andrew Ellicott out as commissioner to put into effect a treaty with Spain, he directed him to investigate Wilkinson. Ellicott did not at that time find reason to take the rumors seriously, but Wilkinson himself did. In alarm he wrote to Gayoso, governor of Natchez, “For the love of God and friendship enjoin great secrecy and caution in all our concerns. Never suffer my name to be written or spoken. The suspicion of Washington is wide awake.”

On the death of General Wayne in 1796 Wilkinson became senior officer in the army. Though John Adams, the incoming President, knew of Wayne’s charges against Wilkinson, he kept him on and gratified his suspicion with true New England frugality by holding him to the rank of brigadier.

Seeing how the political wind was blowing against the Federalists, Wilkinson set to work ingratiating himself with Thomas Jefferson. This turned out to be a highly profitable speculation. Thereafter he enjoyed the support and at least the professed confidence of Jefferson, yet it is hard to believe that a man of Jefferson’s sagacity did not at times entertain unpleasant doubts about his protégé.

When on December 20, 1803, pursuant to the terms of the Purchase, the United States took over Louisiana from the French, Wilkinson, as commanding general of the United States Army, shared with Governor William C. C. Claiborne, of the Mississippi Territory, the honor of representing the United States when the French Tricolor was lowered from the flag-staff in the Place d’Armes in New Orleans and the Stars and Stripes were hoisted in its place.

In 1804 Governor Don Vincente Folch of West Florida turned up in New Orleans. A nephew of old Miro, he had been a party to the intrigues with Wilkinson to which he referred as “the ancient history.” The two took the occasion to renew secret relations. Wilkinson, for a price, volunteered to recommend a course Spain might pursue to prevent the United States from profiting by the cession of Louisiana. Asserting that he had not received his pension for ten years he asked for $20,000 in arrears. Actually he is estimated to have received from the Spaniards $26,000 prior to 1796. Wilkinson also offered to supply Folch with a text of “reflections” and to ascertain and report on the plans and purposes of President Jefferson and his cabinet. Simultaneously, in his capacity as commander of the American forces, he was writing Secretary of War Dearborn that he was “collecting topographical information in all directions and at some expense which I am persuaded you will find highly interesting.” The reference to expense bore the unmistakable odor of a request for compensation.

Folch, for his part, replied that he did not have the money Wilkinson asked and suggested that he apply to the Marquis de Casa Calvo, the boundary commissioner, who was known to be possessed of a generous supply of cash. Calvo accepted Wilkinson’s offer but refused to bid higher than $12,000 for his “Reflections.” These, written and translated, advised Spain to hold on to the Floridas or exchange them for the west bank of the Mississippi, and meanwhile to fortify strongly the Texas and Florida borders. This from the man who, as commander of the United States Army, might soon be called upon to lead his men against those same fortifications! No wonder he begged the Marquis, upon his loyalty, honor, and friendship, to avoid the use of his name and instead employ the designation “Number Thirteen.”

In spite of his secret work for the Spaniards, and his duties as army commander, Wilkinson still found time for another job as Governor of the Louisiana Territory to which he was appointed by President Jefferson, and to curry favor with his benefactor by presenting him with a twenty page memorial describing the country between the Mississippi and the Rio Grande.

On a trip east in 1799 Wilkinson renewed his acquaintance with Aaron Burr whom he visited in New York. Burr was instrumental in placing Wilkinson’s son James in Princeton. In the spring of 1804 Wilkinson again came east. On his arrival in Washington he lent welcome color to the dreary newborn capital by leading a cavalcade through the streets, mounted on a blooded mare and magnificent in the uniform of a major general of his own designing, his stirrups and spurs of gold, his saddlecloth a leopard’s skin with dangling claws, his son and namesake James as military aide riding a respectful distance behind him.

Again Wilkinson sought Burr’s company, addressing a letter to him at Richmond Hill and asking a bed for the night “if it may be done without observation and intrusion.” Burr had broken with the Republicans by this time and Wilkinson evidently considered it unwise for President Jefferson’s protégé to be discovered on intimate terms with so prominent an enemy of the Administration. Burr just then was smarting under his defeat in the campaign for Governor of New York and his next step was uncertain. The possibilities of fame and fortune deriving from an invasion of the Spanish possessions could well have served as an engaging topic for gentlemen of their adventurous temperament and vivid imagination.

Returning to Washington Wilkinson satisfied his gregarious impulses by rubbing shoulders with Congressmen, especially those from the Southwest, and discussing the prospects of war with Spain, lamenting that it was not already being waged. “Mexico,” he commented, momentarily shifting his loyalty from Spain to the United States, “glitters in our eyes--the word is all we wait for.”

In July the duel between Hamilton and Burr was fought. In his flight from the New Jersey authorities Burr sought refuge in the home of Charles Biddle, a cousin of Ann Wilkinson and a warm friend of the General.

During the following winter in Washington, while Burr was closing out his term as Vice-President, he and Wilkinson saw much of each other. It was then that Wilkinson got his appointment as Governor of Louisiana. He picked as his secretary a Dr. Joseph Brown who had married the late Mrs. Burr’s sister. The Vice-President and the General spent much time together. It was said they were copying maps of the Floridas, New Orleans, and the Louisiana Territory.

Mention has been made that when, in the summer of 1805, Burr first journeyed to the West he met with Wilkinson at Fort Massac and St. Louis. As further evidence of their intimacy at this time Wilkinson gave Burr letters of introduction to Daniel Clark, a former partner and one of the wealthiest men in New Orleans, and to other friends there. Speaking of Burr in his letter to Clark, Wilkinson wrote: “To him I refer you for many things improper to letter, and which he will not say to any other.” In a letter to a Spanish friend he described Burr as a “brave, learned, eloquent, gallant, honorable, discreet gentleman, rich in the best affections of the human heart--in short a man who has filled the second place in the Government of the United States with dignity and admiration.”

To Senator John Adair, Kentucky leader, he penned an intriguing note in which he said, “He [Burr] understands your merits, and reckons on you. Prepare to visit me, and I will tell you all. We must have a peep at the unknown world beyond.”

Innocent though these letters may have been, the cryptic terms in which they were couched were enough to arouse suspicion. People were beginning to talk. In September Clark sent a warning to Wilkinson, cautiously expressed, for letters in those days were common property; no telling who might read one before it reached its destination. Said Clark: “Many absurd and evil reports are circulated here and have reached the ears of the officers of the late Spanish Government, respecting our Vice-President.... You are spoken of as his right hand man.... What in the name of heaven could give rise to such extravagancies? Were I sufficiently intimate with Mr. Burr and knew where to direct a line I should take the liberty of writing to him....

“The tale is a horrid one if well told. Kentucky, Tennessee, the State of Ohio, with part of Georgia and part of Carolina, are to be bribed with plunder of the Spanish countries west of us to separate from the Union; this is but part of the business. Heavens, what wonderful doings there will be in those days.... Amuse Mr. Burr with an account of it.” Clark’s letter as much as said that General Wilkinson and Burr would do well to hold their tongues.

On Burr’s visit to Wilkinson in St. Louis after his return from New Orleans the relations between the two men appeared to be as cordial as ever. But newspapers were asking whether there was a conspiracy on foot to disrupt the Union. Then came Clark’s letter. Wilkinson grew disturbed. According to his later story, he then wrote to the Secretary of the Navy cautioning him to keep an eye on Burr. There is no evidence that such a letter was ever received by the Secretary. Nor, at that time, was there any indication that Burr was conscious of any change in Wilkinson’s cordial attitude. Thus matters stood during the winter of 1806 and into the summer when Burr set out for the West with the intention, in his own words, “Never to return.”

On his arrival in Pittsburgh Burr dispatched the two copies of his letter to Wilkinson, dated July 29. This was the incriminating document a copy of which President Jefferson sent to Congress along with his special message. It was the one on which the Government counted heavily in proving its charge of treason. Mention has been made that one copy went by sea to New Orleans in the hands of the German, Dr. Erich Bollman; the other by land in care of Samuel Swartwout, younger brother of John Swartwout, Burr’s political ally in New York. Swartwout was accompanied by another young man, Peter Ogden, nephew of Burr’s friend, former Senator Dayton of New Jersey. Dayton, now out of office, was deeply involved in the intrigue. Ogden carried a letter from Dayton to Wilkinson.

At this point the forces of Spain and the United States were drawn up opposite each other on the Sabine River which separated Texas from Louisiana. General Wilkinson headed the American force and was at his headquarters at Natchitoches in western Louisiana when, on October 8, Swartwout and Ogden arrived with the letters.

The contents of the cipher letter from Burr has been set forth. Though Burr may not yet have begun to doubt Wilkinson’s steadfastness, he and Dayton evidently felt that he needed prodding. With that in mind, Dayton wrote that he had it on good authority that Wilkinson was to be replaced at the next session of Congress. “Jefferson,” he declared, “will affect to yield reluctantly to the public sentiment, but yield he will; prepare yourself, therefore for it; you know the rest.” Then, further to stiffen the General’s morale, he added: “You are not the man to despair, or even disposed, especially when such prospects offer in another quarter. Are you ready? Wealth and glory. Louisiana and Mexico.”

Wilkinson spent the better part of the night decoding Burr’s letter and pondering his next step. By morning he had reached a decision, if he had not done so already. Timidity had prevailed over adventure and avarice. He would abandon Burr and cling to the Government. But he needed all the shrewdness and skill at his command to make the transition convincing and lend credence to the story he would tell. How would an innocent man behave? The General’s first act was to summon his subordinate, Col. Thomas Cushing, and inform him that Swartwout was Burr’s agent and that Burr was the head of a widespread conspiracy. He said he would make what terms he could with the Spaniards so that his hand might be free to deal with the conspirators.

But Wilkinson did not reveal his betrayal of Burr to Swartwout. For the next ten days he kept the young man at Natchitoches while he pumped him dry of information and considered his next move. By October 20 he had sufficiently mapped his course to write Jefferson that he had discovered that a powerful association, extending from New York through the western states, had been formed for the purpose of leading an expedition against Vera Cruz. Judging it inadvisable to name names at this stage he stated that it was “unknown under whose authority” the enterprise had been projected. This ten days after he had announced to Colonel Cushing that Burr was the man!

The following day, in another confidential dispatch, he reiterated that, “I am not only uninformed of the prime mover and ultimate objects of this daring enterprise, but am ignorant of the foundations on which it rests.” This letter professing complete ignorance was the one Burr asked the court to get from Jefferson through the _subpoena duces tecum_. No wonder.

Then in his heart-searching dilemma the General seized upon a fantastic scheme which he thought might enable him at one and the same time to demonstrate his loyalty to the Government without at the same time abandoning his friends. In a postscript he asked, “Might not some plan be adopted to correct the delirium of the associates and by a suitable appeal to their patriotism to engage them in the service of their country?”

If he supposed the Government would countenance an invasion of Spanish territory he was wrong. Jefferson’s policy just then was not one of war, but of negotiation by purchase.

Wilkinson’s immediate concern was that Jefferson might lose faith in him. Added to other rumors of his guilt was the open charge of the Kentucky newspaper, _The Western World_, that he was an “intriguer and pensioner of Spain, now associated with Aaron Burr in reviving the old Spanish conspiracy.” There was little chance that, with all its avenues of communication, the White House would not be informed of the articles running in _The Western World_. Wilkinson, with an initiative he seldom showed on the battlefield, decided to take the offensive and strike without waiting for Jefferson to inquire.

So in another letter to the President on the same day Wilkinson called attention to the attacks, stating that he had been “bespattered with obloquy and slandered with a degree of virulence and indecency surpassing all example.”

“I have at times been fearful,” he confessed, “your confidence might be shaken by the boldness of the calumnies leveled at me: but the reflection that I have not only enjoyed but merited the confidence of George Washington [which was far from the truth] and his administration ... and that the same illustrious character died my friend; and that the honest but wrong-headed President Adams approved my conduct in opposition to his ministers, combined with the consciousness that the wealth and power of the wide world could not for the moment divert my course from the path of honor, dissipated my apprehensions and determined me not to descend to the task of refuting by ... testimony and authentic documents every imputation alleged against me, from the most frivolous to the most sane; I therefore contented myself by directing my attorney to bring action for slander against the printers, to test their authorities in a court of law.” Fine words but, like the warning to the Secretary of the Navy there is no record that such a suit was ever brought.

Whatever his other shortcomings the General was not lacking in eloquence, especially when he was proclaiming his own virtues. He continued: “My ultimate views are limited to the acquisition of an honorable fame--I have ever condemned the sordid interest of the world, and estimate property by its immediate utility only.” This from a man in a position of high public trust who had not hesitated to sell out to a foreign government! He went on: “... and it is the highest ambition of my soul on a poor occasion, to spend my last breath in the cause of my country--a frail character, but a just one.” Finally a modest tribute to Mr. Jefferson: “To you I owe more than I will express, lest I should be suspected of adulation, which I detest.”

Wilkinson need not have worried about Jefferson. Almost a year before the President had had very definite warning from District Attorney Daveiss who wrote him that he was convinced Wilkinson “has been for years, and now is a pensioner of Spain.” Jefferson showed the letter to Gallatin, Madison, and Dearborn, but took no further action for reasons that later were made clear by his cabinet officers.

By November the General had effected a treaty with the Spaniards. His lieutenant, Colonel Cushing, was marching to the defense of New Orleans and Wilkinson was in the throes of patriotic emotion. To Cushing he wrote, “My God! What a situation has the country reached. Let us save it if we can.... Hurry, hurry after me, and, if necessary, let us be buried together in the ruins of the place we shall defend!”

Now that the die had been cast Wilkinson exerted every effort to lend authenticity to his declarations. To Governor Claiborne of New Orleans he dashed off a startling message of warning: “You are surrounded by dangers of which you dream not, and the destruction of the American Government is seriously menaced. The storm will probably burst in New Orleans, where I shall meet it and triumph or perish.”

The Governor must have been impressed by the similarity between this message and the one he had previously received from Andrew Jackson. The one striking difference was that in Jackson’s message the warning had been to watch not Burr or unknown conspirators, but Wilkinson. Then the man who had designated himself to save the nation in its hour of peril took up his pen and indited another dispatch to President Jefferson in his most florid style. He wrote:

“This is a deep, dark and widespread conspiracy, embracing the young and the old, the Democrat and the Federalist, the native and the foreigner, the patriot of ’76 and the exotic of yesterday, the opulent and the needy, the ins and the outs.” But let not the President despair. Wilkinson was there and “... nothing shall be omitted which can be accomplished by indefatigable industry, incessant vigilance and hardy courage; and I gasconade not when I tell you that in such a cause, I shall glory to give my life to the service of my country; for I verily believe such an event is probable.”

Wilkinson informed the President that 7000 men were descending the Ohio River, bringing the sympathies and good wishes of that country. This exaggerated estimate no doubt was intended to justify his declaring martial law when he should arrive in New Orleans.

As emotionally aroused as Wilkinson appeared to be, he still was sufficiently the hard-headed businessman to devise as clever a bit of scheming as can be found in his long and illustrious career of intrigue. While at Natchitoches he had taken on as military aide one Walter Burling, a local planter. Burling asked Wilkinson’s permission to enter Spanish territory to buy mules. Wilkinson assented, then told Burling he had long wanted details of the route from the United States to Mexico City and directed him to use the trip as an excuse for reconnaissance, and to return by water.

Wilkinson then gave Burling a letter to José de Iturrigary, Spanish Viceroy at Mexico City, in which he related the intentions of Burr against Mexico. He laid great stress on the measures he had taken at the risk of his life, fame, and fortune to save the Spanish possession. His services he valued at $121,000. Simultaneously he wrote to President Jefferson asking reimbursement for Burling’s trip, the cost of which he put at $1500. Thus with a single stone he hoped to kill not two birds but three. His finesse was not entirely successful. Burling made the trip and returned safely with information about the route. Iturrigary thanked him for his pains but refused payment saying he already knew about Burr’s plans. Jefferson, however, obliged with the $1500.

On November 25 the General arrived in New Orleans. He acted vigorously in calling out the militia, repairing the fortifications, and impressing seamen. Then he set in motion a veritable reign of terror. When Bollman delivered his letter from Burr, Wilkinson seized him and threw him into jail. He tried to frighten Governor Claiborne into declaring martial law by asserting that if drastic measures were not taken to meet the danger “the fair fabric of our independence, purchased by the best blood of the country, will be prostrated and the Goddess of Liberty will take her flight from the globe forever.”

Following their exoneration by the Kentucky grand jury Burr and Adair proceeded to Nashville where they parted company. Burr boarded his flatboats while Adair set out on horseback for New Orleans. Many believed Adair was second in command to Burr. Oblivious of their past intimacy, dating from the Indian campaign, and no doubt in a desperate effort to erase the damning fact that he had introduced Adair to Burr, Wilkinson had Adair arrested on his arrival in New Orleans. Then he shipped Adair, Bollman, Swartwout, and Ogden under arrest by sea, with Baltimore and Washington as their destinations, to be dealt with by the Government. He set up a system of secret police to search for evidence, confiscated correspondence, and arranged with the postmaster to rifle the mails. When Governor Claiborne refused to be bullied into declaring martial law Wilkinson declared it himself. But when he tried to force the Louisiana Legislature to suspend the writ of habeas corpus the members rebelled, protesting that such action would be a violation of the Federal Constitution.

As it grew apparent that the threat of invasion had been greatly exaggerated and that the imminent peril of the city was largely a figment of Wilkinson’s fevered imagination, the New Orleans public rose in revolt against this assumption of power and disregard of their rights.

In Washington President Jefferson was receiving news of Wilkinson’s operations and measuring the nation’s reactions. He grew alarmed. In a carefully worded letter to the General he alluded to Wilkinson’s mistaken notion that 7000 men were descending the Mississippi with Burr for an assault on New Orleans. This total, Jefferson surmised, must have been based on the estimate of the number of men who could be raised in the western country for an invasion of Mexico under the authority of the Government. But, suggested the President, evidently the General had not taken into account that the instant his proclamation reached the West and made it known that the Government did not sanction the expedition, all honest men deserted Burr and left him with only a handful.

The President then tactfully cautioned the General against making wholesale arrests. His sending Bollman and Swartwout to Washington, he said, was supported by public opinion. So would be the sending of Burr, Blennerhassett, and Comfort Tyler, if they were apprehended. “I hope,” added the President, “you will not extend this deportation to persons against whom there is only suspicion, or shades of offense not strongly marked. I fear public sentiment would desert you, because seeing no danger here, violations of law are felt with strength. I have thought it just to give you these views of the sentiment here, as they may enlighten your path.”

No doubt, continued Mr. Jefferson, Wilkinson had seen the malicious insinuations in the newspapers against him. But the President of the United States protested that he still had faith: “I can assure you that your conduct, as now known, has placed you on ground extremely favorable with the public.”

Shortly thereafter a Major Bruff of the Artillery arrived in Washington from St. Louis. He went straight to Secretary of War Dearborn and directly accused Wilkinson of spying for the Spaniards and committing treason with Burr. Dearborn heard Bruff out and then replied calmly that there had been a time when the General had not stood well with the Executive, but his energetic measures at New Orleans had regained him executive confidence and the President would sustain him. Bruff then appealed to Attorney General Caesar Rodney who gave him a realistic and revealing answer. “What would be the result,” Rodney asked, “if all your charges against General Wilkinson should be proven? Why just what the Federalist and all the enemies of the present administration wish--it would turn the indignation of the people from Burr on Wilkinson. Burr would escape and Wilkinson take his place.”

There could not have been a clearer exposition of the predicament in which Jefferson found himself. He had declared Wilkinson to be the savior of the nation. To confess now that Wilkinson was a knave would convict himself of gross negligence in entrusting the safety of the western country to such a man.

As the time for Wilkinson’s presence in Richmond approached, and as he foresaw the attack that was sure to be made on his integrity, the General recognized the importance of clearing himself of the charges of being a secret agent of Spain. He therefore appealed directly to his old friend Governor Folch of West Florida, telling him he was being slandered because of certain alleged Spanish intrigues of a criminal nature and asking him to state whether he, Wilkinson, had ever received a pension from the Spanish government.

The Spanish government may on occasion have been remiss about paying the pension in full and on time, but Folch now met nobly every obligation his government owed the General. In a private letter to Wilkinson whom he addressed as “my dear friend” he assured him he had sent all the documents that pertained to “the ancient history” to Havana, “persuaded that before the United States are in a situation to conquer that capital, you and I and Jefferson, Madison and all the secretaries ... will have made many days’ journey into the other world.” Folch reminded Wilkinson that he had been in Louisiana since 1783 and had enjoyed confidential relations with his uncle, Governor Miro, and declared that no document showing Wilkinson to have been a secret agent in the pay of Spain existed in the records. Then in a public letter he came out handsomely with the statement that “his [Wilkinson’s] qualities as an honest man and one faithful to his country entitle him to your particular attention and regard and we judge him to be worthy of the commission he holds.”

Such was Folch’s exoneration of Wilkinson when only a few weeks before, as Burr and his men were traveling down the Mississippi toward Spanish territory, Yrujo, Spanish minister to the United States, was assuring Don Cevallos, Spanish Foreign Minister, that the governors of the Floridas were being informed of what was going on through Folch’s connection with Wilkinson.

In assuring Wilkinson that his conduct had “placed him on ground favorable with the public” Mr. Jefferson could not have included that sizable portion of it that just then regarded Wilkinson as a brother in crime with Burr, who at the last minute had lost his nerve and betrayed his partner in a valiant attempt to save himself.

Thus was the stage set for the entry of the Government’s star witness.

_Chapter_ X

District Attorney Hay had asked that Burr be confined or that his bail be raised for fear he would run away rather than face his former friend and present accuser, General James Wilkinson. On the other hand, there were quite as many people who harbored the belief that General Wilkinson would not dare to come face to face with Burr.

Among the latter was John Randolph of Roanoke who, at the time, was keeping up a lively correspondence with Joseph H. Nicholson, a former colleague in the House of Representatives and now a Federal judge in Baltimore. As late as May 31, while still waiting impatiently for the appearance of the dilatory star witness, Randolph wrote to his friend: “There are, I am told, upwards of forty witnesses in town, one of whom (General Jackson of Tennessee) does not scruple to say that W [Wilkinson] is a pensioner of Spain to his knowledge and that he will not dare to show his face here.”

But just as Colonel Burr upset Hay’s prediction by announcing his presence whenever his name was called, so General Wilkinson disappointed his critics by at last showing up. Having traveled from New Orleans by sea he landed at Hampton, Virginia. On June 10 his arrival in Richmond by stage was announced. He was reported to be exhausted from his journey, but his appearance did not bear out that impression. As befitted the senior officer of the United States Army, he exhibited himself to the public resplendent in his major general’s uniform. To add to the impressiveness of his entry on the scene he was constantly attended in public by his military aides, including his son, Lieutenant James Wilkinson, Lieutenant Edmund Pendleton Gaines, who had received Burr as a prisoner in Alabama, and Lieutenants Murray and Smith. Gaines in later years was to achieve distinction in the War of 1812 and eventually attain command of a department of the United States Army. Still another member of the Wilkinson party was Mr. John Graham, President Jefferson’s special agent who had trailed Burr after the issuance of the presidential proclamation. This group, augmented by their servants, produced quite a spectacular array.

On Monday, June 15, the long-awaited personal encounter between Burr and Wilkinson took place. It was a dramatic moment worth recording for posterity, and several first-hand accounts were duly put on paper immediately after the event and thus preserved. General Wilkinson himself was the author of one of them. His was written especially for the eye of the President and it was executed in the General’s customarily vivid manner. Colonel Burr was already in the courtroom when Wilkinson entered. Said the General in his letter to Jefferson: “I was introduced to a position within the bar very near my adversary. I saluted the bench and in spite of myself my eyes darted a flash of indignation at the little traitor, on whom they continued fixed until I was called to the Book--here, Sir, I found my expectations verified--this lion-hearted, eagle-eyed Hero, jerking under the weight of conscious guilt, with haggard eyes in an effort to meet the indignant salutation of outraged honor; but it was in vain, his audacity failed him. He averted his face, grew pale, and affected passion to conceal his perturbation.”

Altogether different was the impression made by the incident on Washington Irving who was among the spectators in the courtroom that morning. Allowance must, no doubt, be made for the fact that Irving counted himself as being in the Burr camp and was altogether sympathetic with the Colonel in his misfortune. According to Irving, Burr, his back to the entrance, was facing the judge and conversing with his counsel when the General arrived. “Wilkinson,” said Irving, “strutted into Court, and took his stand on a parallel line with Burr on his right hand. Here he stood for a moment swelling like a turkey-cock, and bracing himself up for the encounter of Burr’s eye.

“The latter did not take any notice of him until the judge directed the clerk to swear General Wilkinson. At the mention of his name Burr turned his head, looked him full in the face with one of his piercing regards, swept his eye over his whole person from head to foot, as if to scan its dimensions, and then coolly resumed his former position and went on conversing with his counsel as tranquilly as ever. The whole look was over in an instant, but it was an admirable one. There was no appearance of study or constraint in it; no affectation of disdain or defiance; a slight expression of contempt played over his countenance, such as you would show on regarding any person to whom you are indifferent, but whom you considered mean and contemptible.”

In the next issue of the _Enquirer_, Editor Ritchie, under his nom de plume of the “Resident of Richmond Hill,” presented a third version of the encounter. He, of course, championed the Government’s star witness, as the mouthpiece of the Jefferson Administration would have been expected to do.

“He [Wilkinson],” wrote Ritchie, “has met Colonel Burr in the presence of the court and a gaping crowd, but who can say that his countenance was flushed and apprehensive or sicklied o’er with the pale cast of fear and guilt? That was a deep mortification to some; had he but fainted or betrayed the least timidity, it would have been a luscious conquest of federalism.”

Still another witness of the scene who, in spite of the heat of that partisan battle, somehow managed to maintain a neutral attitude, reported that the meeting had been anticipated for so long by the two principals and had been so often rehearsed in their imaginations that the actual performance of neither party was convincing. Such is the evidence which posterity is invited to hear and weigh, and from it arrive at a decision as to which of the two principals came off the better.

The “Resident from Richmond Hill,” having dealt with the meeting of Burr and Wilkinson, could not resist the opportunity of reporting his impressions of Luther Martin, lawyer for the defense. Said he: “As I have mentioned the bar, permit me to introduce a strange lawyer from a neighboring State whose character towers to the highest sphere of jurisprudence. My expectations were at first as extravagant as his character. I marked him in my mind’s eye as a happy standard by which I might form some estimate of the Virginia bar. But pardon me ye critics and eulogists of Mr. M. ... if I cannot join in the forensic paean, if instead of placing him in the zenith I put him in the nadir.”

General Wilkinson’s presence in court was brief. The Grand Jury, which had been waiting so long, was impatient to hear him. Grand jury proceedings are customarily regarded as sacred and what goes on behind closed doors is supposedly held in the strictest confidence. But the Grand Jury in the Burr case, like so many other features of that strange performance, refused to conform to the normal pattern. At least one serious leak led to a controversy in the press. In his continued correspondence with Judge Nicholson the jury’s foreman set down some salty observations. Nor was the star witness silent. His experience gave him another chance to unburden himself to his patron in Washington.

Wilkinson brought with him into the jury room the original of the famous letter in cipher which he had received from Burr by the hand of Samuel Swartwout. It was a complicated cipher which baffled the jury, with one exception. That exception was John Randolph of Roanoke who gave a demonstration of his remarkable intellect by mastering the key at once and explaining the solution to his less astute fellow jurymen.

The General’s reception was less than cordial. To a man who claimed to have saved his country through his bold and patriotic actions the militant attitude of the Grand Jury was painful indeed. The General made his lament to Jefferson: “I dreamt not of the importance attached to my presence before I reached Hampton ... for I had anticipated that a deluge of testimony would have been poured forth from all quarters to overwhelm him [Burr] with guilt and dishonor.” That, perhaps, to excuse his having kept the Grand Jury waiting. “Sadly, indeed, was I mistaken, and to my astonishment I found the traitor vindicated and myself condemned by a mass of wealth, character, influence and talents. Merciful God, what a spectacle did I behold--integrity and truth perverted and trampled under foot by turpitude and guilt, patriotism appalled and usurpation triumphant. Did I ever expect it would depend on my humble self to stop the current of such a polluted stream? Never, never.”

Why the Grand Jury did not overwhelm Wilkinson with manifestations of appreciation and gratitude is revealed by John Randolph in a letter to Nicholson reporting on the indictments: “But,” said Randolph, “the mammoth of iniquity escaped. Not that any man pretended to think him innocent, but upon certain drawn distinctions that I will not pester you with.

“Wilkinson is the only man that I ever saw who was from the bark to the very core a villain. I cannot enter upon it here. Suffice it to say that I have seen it--so that it is not susceptible of misconstruction.... Perhaps you never saw human nature in so degraded a situation as in the person of W. before the G. J., & yet this man stands on the very summit and pinnacle of executive favor--whilst Jas. M--e [James Monroe] denounced....” Just then Monroe stood in Randolph’s good graces. But like so many others he soon was to incur that inconstant gentleman’s displeasure.

A few days later Randolph wrote again: “W-- is the most finished scoundrel that ever lived. A ream of paper would not contain all the proofs--but what of that? He is ‘the man whom the king delighteth to honor’ & all who are in search of promotion find it to their interest to shut their eyes and ears to the evidence of the guilt--among them I could name some, whom I blush to think upon.”

Randolph then described in detail the scratches with a pen-knife and restorations in the Burr letter which he claimed were made in Wilkinson’s own handwriting. He concludes: “Let me know what the opinion is with you of this redoubtable thief taker (set a thief etc.) who commands our armies.”

In another of his emotional letters to the President, Wilkinson confessed his perplexity at the direction the case had taken: “You are doubtless well aware,” he wrote, “of the proceedings here in the case of Burr. To me they are incomprehensible as I am no jurist. The Grand Jury actually made an attempt to present me for suspicion [Wilkinson meant “misprision”] of treason on the ground of having failed to report Dayton to you. I feel myself between Scylla and Charybdis. The jury would dishonor me for failing in my duty, and Burr and his conspirators for performing it.”

The jury’s treatment of Wilkinson provided the subject for a bitter dispute that ran for days in the pages of the _Enquirer_. Under the heading “Drowning Men Catch At Straws,” Editor Ritchie set forth that he was authorized to contradict the slander uttered in Davis’s _Virginia Gazette_ and _Daily Advertiser_ (The _Enquirer_’s Federalist rival) that a motion had been made before the Grand Jury to present the General for high treason and that on the question the jury had divided equally.

The _Enquirer_ traced the story to “Mumford Beverly Esq., an unworthy member of the jury, of whose attachment to monarchy and sympathy for Burr no doubts are admitted.” A few days later Mr. John Brockenbrough, cashier of the Bank of Virginia and a juryman, entered the controversy. Mr. Brockenbrough said he felt no disposition to interfere in the controversy between General Wilkinson and his friends and Mr. Beverly, but he deemed it his duty to state the facts. He said he had not voted for presenting General Wilkinson for high treason, for no such vote was taken, to his knowledge.

A whole month was allowed to elapse before juryman William Daniel Jr. at last straightened out the matter. The motion was not to present Wilkinson for “high treason,” but for “misprision of treason.” And, said Mr. Daniel, the jury had been seven for and nine against.

In view of the battering he had received from the Grand Jury in his gallant effort to serve the Administration, the poor, maltreated General was gravely in need of sympathy and moral support. And he got it. To his lamentation the President replied: “Your enemies have filled the public car with slanders and your mind with trouble on that account. The establishment of their guilt will let the world see what they ought to think of their clamors; it will dissipate the doubts of those who doubted for want of knowledge and will place you on higher ground in the public estimation and public confidence.” Then wholeheartedly and without reservation Jefferson declared: “No one is more sensible than myself of the injustice which has been aimed at you. Accept, I pray you, my salutations and assurances of respect and esteem.”

Surely no President of the United States ever expressed gratitude in such extravagant terms to a subordinate who deserved it less. Necessity makes strange bedfellows.

While the Grand Jury was behind closed doors examining witnesses, stagnation settled on the courtroom. Again there was need for diversion to while away the time. The ever-resourceful Burr, seldom wanting for an idea, supplied it. He moved that an attachment be issued against General Wilkinson for contempt in obstructing the administration of justice by rifling the mails, imprisoning witnesses, and extorting testimony by torture. The allusions were to his behavior in New Orleans.

The motion at least afforded opportunity for several witnesses to pour out lurid stories of their experiences at the hands of the tyrant. It caused Wilkinson personal embarrassment--if that were possible--by bringing him back into court, and gave counsel on both sides a chance to disport themselves in prolonged argument.

On June 24, while these arguments were being heard, the Grand Jury, led by its foreman, John Randolph, filed majestically into the courtroom and took seats in the jury box. Argument on Burr’s motion was immediately suspended. A profound silence fell over the assemblage and every ear was strained as Mr. Randolph, addressing the bench, announced that the jury had agreed upon several indictments. He then handed the official document to the clerk who read aloud the endorsements:

“An indictment against Aaron Burr for treason.”

“An indictment against Aaron Burr for misdemeanor.”

“An indictment against Harman Blennerhassett for treason.”

“An indictment against Harman Blennerhassett for misdemeanor.”

Burr, according to those present, on hearing the indictment read, displayed no emotion. He accepted the action of the Grand Jury as calmly as he had accepted all his misfortunes. There seems to have been no justification for the statement in one of the local papers next day that the prisoner was thrown into a state of consternation and dismay. Such behavior would have been so out of keeping with the man’s character that the report can be safely attributed to Republican propaganda.

After the Grand Jury had withdrawn, Judge Marshall announced that he was now under the necessity of committing Burr. So, late in the afternoon, the former Vice-President of the United States had to undergo the humiliation of being conducted by the marshal through a concourse of hundreds of curious people to the city jail, notorious for its filth and vermin. There for the night he shared a room with a man and woman and was in close proximity to the other prisoners.

Next day the Grand Jury indicted for treason and misdemeanor ex-Senator Jonathan Dayton of New Jersey, Senator John Smith of Ohio, Comfort Tyler, Israel Smith, and Davis Floyd.

Dayton went out of office on the same day Burr ceased to be Vice-President. After that they were known to be closely associated. Some people believed that the treasonable projects on which they were supposed to be engaged were as much the handiwork of Dayton as of Burr. It was Dayton’s nephew, Peter Ogden, who carried a letter to Wilkinson along with Samuel Swartwout who carried the letter from Burr.

Senator Smith had been suspected of being engaged in the plot from the time Burr stopped with him at Cincinnati in the summer of 1805. When invited by the Kentucky Grand Jury to testify to the charges brought by Daveiss he had discreetly disappeared.

Comfort Tyler, Israel Smith, and Davis Floyd were minor leaders of the expedition. Tyler, who came from Onandaga, New York, had served with Burr in the New York Assembly and there fell under his spell. Israel Smith also was a New Yorker and Davis Floyd was from Indiana Territory. They were no doubt indicted because they were present on Blennerhassett Island and took part in any overt act which might have taken place there and on the proof of which the charge of treason depended.

Burr’s first thought was for his daughter Theodosia. She must be spared anxiety and mortification. From his cell in jail he penned her a hurried letter in which he gave no inkling of his disgusting surroundings. The indictment for treason, he explained, was founded on the allegation that Col. Comfort Tyler, with 20 or 30 men, had stopped at Blennerhassett Island on the way down the Ohio and “... that though these men were not armed, and had no military array or organization, and though they did neither use force nor threaten it, yet having set out with a view of taking temporary possession of New Orleans on their way to Mexico, that such intent was treasonable, and therefore a war was levied on Blennerhassett Island by construction.”

The Colonel went on to say that though he was at that time in Frankfort, Kentucky, on his way to Tennessee, nevertheless, having advised the measure, he was by construction of law present at the island and levied war there. “In fact the indictment charges that Aaron Burr was on that day present at the island, though not a man of the jury supposed this to be true.”

Of the 50 witnesses who were examined by the Grand Jury, said Burr, “it may be safely alleged that 30 at least have been perjured.” He closed his letter with a characteristically stoical injunction: “I beg and expect it of you that you will conduct yourself as becomes my daughter, and that you manifest no signs of weakness or alarm.” Was he thinking of that long line of Puritan ancestors stretching back through New England to the old England? He need have no concern on the score of Theodosia’s behavior. A word from her father was the equivalent of a command. She had never failed him yet.

After Burr had spent two uncomfortable nights in the city jail his counsel complained bitterly to the Chief Justice. They warned that the unsanitary conditions in the jail would break down his health. The lack of privacy, they claimed, would interfere seriously with the consultations with his lawyers and impair his defense. Moved by these appeals, Judge Marshall consented that the prisoner should occupy a room in a house which had been rented by Luther Martin across the street from the Swan Tavern. Consent was given on condition that suitable shutters and door fastenings be installed to insure the security of the prisoner and that a guard of seven men be kept constantly on duty.

These terms were accepted. The installations were inspected and declared secure by none other than Benjamin H. Latrobe, the country’s leading architect and at the moment President Jefferson’s Surveyor of Public Buildings, who was then busily employed in redesigning the national Capitol. Latrobe had been approached by Burr with a proposal to take part in building a canal around the falls of the Ohio at Cincinnati and was among the many persons hauled in by the Government to give testimony.

Burr and the architect were to have another relationship of which neither of them had dreamed. Latrobe had but recently completed a design for a penitentiary at Richmond, for the State of Virginia, drawn up according to the specifications of Jefferson. The building had been erected and it met all the very latest requirements set forth by the penologists. In addition to its functional excellence it was a noble structure characteristic of Latrobe’s imagination and genius. It occupied a commanding position overlooking the James River on a lofty hill next door to the one on which stood the Gray House of Robert Gamble. That, too, it will be recalled, was the work of Latrobe. It now housed Colonel Gamble and his wife, his two daughters, and his sons-in-law, Governor William Cabell and William Wirt.

Since the imprisonment of Burr in Mr. Martin’s house had brought forth charges of favoritism, Governor Cabell hit on a plan to save Judge Marshall embarrassment by graciously offering the court quarters for Burr in the penitentiary. The offer was accepted by his counsel on the understanding that, as soon as the trial commenced, the prisoner should be returned to the Martin house in town.

So it was that Colonel Burr was transferred to the penitentiary. If in fact, as some alleged, he had plotted to make himself an emperor, the structure in which he was now imprisoned provided a romantic setting. The massive walls and the sturdy tower needed only a banner floating over them to give every appearance of a castle or other imperial stronghold. It was the nearest thing to regal quarters he would ever occupy.

This important housekeeping matter attended to, the prisoner was arraigned and pleaded “not guilty” to the charges. The Court ordered the United States Marshal to summon a panel of 48 men to report on August 3. From these a jury was to be picked for the trial.

The time had come for another intermission. With the intermission came the need for further divertissement. Being secured in prison, Colonel Burr was in an awkward position to supply it. This time the local populace and the visitors to the town who had come to take part in the trial were to be relieved of their boredom by the navy of His Britannic Majesty, King George III.

_Chapter_ XI

On the afternoon of June 22, a few miles outside the Virginia Capes, the British frigate _Leopard_ fired on the U.S. frigate _Chesapeake_, killing three men, severely wounding eight, and slightly wounding ten. Among the slightly wounded was Commodore James Barron, ranking officer on the _Chesapeake_. The American frigate, taken by surprise and totally unprepared for action, fired one shot of protest and struck her colors. A party from the _Leopard_ then boarded the _Chesapeake_, subjected it to the indignity of mustering its crew, and removed from it four men alleged to be deserters from a British man-of-war.

The issue of impressment was then at its height. The British Navy, short of manpower, charged that many of its men were deserting to the American merchant marine to enjoy better pay and working conditions. It was not at all unusual for British men-of-war to hail American merchantmen on the high seas and search them for deserters. Nor were the British too careful about the men they took off, frequently including American citizens among them. This practice had been bitterly resented by a large part of the American public, but, while complaints had been made to the British Government, the abuse had not yet been considered a cause for war.

The incident of the _Leopard_ and the _Chesapeake_, however, was different. This was the first time a British man-of-war had thus dealt with an American man-of-war. It therefore assumed the proportions of a national insult.

In spite of the primitive communications of the times, the bad news traveled with astonishing speed. Three days after the clash between the two ships word of it reached Washington. It spread rapidly to the cities up and down the coast. As it spread public indignation rose to fever heat. Political animosities were for the time being forgotten as the public seethed with resentment at this latest outrage at the hands of the British Navy. The bitterness of the days of the Revolution against King George III, who, though old and broken mentally, was still on the throne, was revived. President Jefferson later remarked that at that moment he held the issue of peace and war in the hollow of his hand.