Kitabı oku: «An American Patrician, or The Story of Aaron Burr», sayfa 11
CHAPTER XIX – HOW AARON IS INDICTED
IT is evening at the White House. The few dinner guests have departed, and Jefferson is alone in his study. As he stands at the open window, and gazes out across the sweep of lawn to the Potomac, shining like silver in the rays of the full May moon, his face is cloudy and angry. The face of the sage of Monticello has put aside its usual expression of philosophy. In place of the calm that should reign there, the look which prevails is one of narrowness, prejudice and wrathful passion.
Apparently, he waits the coming of a visitor, for he wheels without surprise, as a fashionably dressed gentleman is ushered in by a servant.
“Ah, Wirt!” he cries; “be seated, please. You got my note?”
William Wirt is thirty-five – a clean, well-bred example of the conventional Virginia gentleman. He accepts the proffered chair; but with the manner of one only half at ease, as not altogether liking the reason of his White House presence.
“Your note, Mr. President?” he repeats. “Oh, yes; I received it. What you propose is highly flattering. And yet – and yet – ”
“And yet what, sir?” breaks in Jefferson impatiently. “Surely, I propose nothing unusual? You are practicing at the Richmond bar. I ask you to conduct the case against Colonel Burr.”
“Nothing unusual, of course,” returns Wirt, who, gifted of a keen political eye, hungrily foresees a final attorney generalship in what he is about. “And yet, as I was about to say, there are matters which should be considered. There is George Hay, for instance; he is the Government’s attorney for the Richmond district. It is his province as well as duty to prosecute Colonel Burr; he might resent my being saddled upon him. Have you thought of Mr. Hay?”
“Thought of him? Hay is a dullard, a blockhead, a respectable nonentity! no more fit to contend with Colonel Burr and those whom he will have about him, than would be a sucking babe. He is of no courage, no force, sir; he seems to think that, now he is the son-in-law of James Monroe, he has done quite enough to merit success in both law and politics. No; there is much depending on this trial, and I desire you to try it. Burr must be convicted. The black Federal plot to destroy this republic and set a monarchy in its stead, a plot of which he himself is but a single item, must be nipped in the bud. Moreover, you will find that I am to be on trial even more than is Colonel Burr. The case will not be ‘The People against Aaron Burr.’ but ‘The Federalists against Thomas Jefferson.’ Do you understand? I am the object of a Federal plot, as much as is the Government itself! John Marshall, that arch Federalist, will be on the bench, doing all he can for the plotters and their instrument, Colonel Burr. It is no time to risk myself on so slender a support as George Hay. It is you who must conduct this cause.”
Wirt is a bit scandalized by this outburst; especially at the reckless dragging in of Chief Justice Marshall. He expostulates; but is too much the courtier to let any harshness creep into either his manner or his speech.
“You surely do not mean to say,” he begins, “that the chief justice – ”
“I mean to say,” interrupts Jefferson, “that you must be ready to meet every trick that Marshall can play against the Government. For all his black robe, is he of different clay than any other? Believe me, he’s a Federalist long before he’s a judge! Let me ask a question: Why did Marshall, the chief justice, mind you, hold the preliminary examination of Burr? Why, having held it, did he not commit him for treason? Why did he hold him only for a misdemeanor, and admit him to bail? Does not that look as though Marshall had taken possession of the case in Burr’s interest? You spoke a moment ago of the propriety of Hay prosecuting the charge against Burr, being, as he is, the Government’s attorney for that district. Does not it occur to you that his honor, Judge Griffin, is the judge for that district? And yet Marshall shoves him aside to make room on the bench for himself. Sir, there is chicanery in this. We must watch Marshall. A chief justice, indeed! A chief Federalist, rather! Why, he even so much lacked selfrespect as to become a guest at a dinner given in Colonel Burr’s honor, after he had committed that traitor in ten thousand dollars bail! An excellent, a dignified chief justice, truly! – doing dinner table honor to one whom he must presently try for a capital offense!”
“Justice Marshall’s appearance at the Burr dinner” – Wirt makes the admission doubtfully – “was not, I admit, in the very flower of good taste. None the less, I should infer honesty rather than baseness from such appearance. If he contemplated any wrong in Colonel Burr’s favor, he would have remained away. Coming to the case itself,” says Wirt, anxious to avoid further discussion of Judge Marshall, as a topic whereon he and Jefferson are not likely to agree, “what is the specific act of treason with which the Government charges Colonel Burr?”
“The conspiracy, wherein he was prime mover, aimed first to take Mexico from, the Spanish. Having taken Mexico, the plotters – Colonel Burr at the head – purposed seizing New Orleans. That would give them a hold in the vast region drained by the Mississippi. Everything west of the Alleghenies was expected to flock round their standards. With an empire reaching from Darien to the Great Lakes, from the Pacific to the Alleghenies, their final move was to be made upon Washington itself. Sir, the Federalists hate this republic – have always hated it! What they desire is a monarchy. They want a king, not a president, in the White House.”
“I learn,” observes Wirt – “I learn, since my arrival, that Colonel Burr has been in Washington.”
“That was three days ago. He demanded copies of my orders to General Wilkinson. When I prevented his obtaining them, he said he would move for a subpoena duces tecum, addressed to me personally. Think of that, sir! Can you conceive of greater impudence? He will sue out a subpoena against the President of this country, and compel him to come into court bringing the archives of Government!”
Wirt shrugs his shoulders. “And why not, sir?” he asks at last. “In the eye of the law a president is no more sacred than a pathmaster. A murder might be committed in the White House grounds. You, looking from that window, might chance to witness it – might, indeed, be the only witness. You yourself are a lawyer, Mr. President. You will not tell me that an innocent man, accused of murder, is to be denied your testimony? – that he is to hang rather than ruffle a presidential dignity? What is the difference between the case I’ve supposed and that against Colonel Burr? He is to be charged with treason, you say! Very well; treason is a hanging matter as much as murder.”
Jefferson and Wirt, step by step, go over the arrest of Aaron, and what led to it. It is settled that Wirt shall control for the prosecution. Also, when the Grand Jury is struck, he must see to it that Aaron is indicted for treason.
“Marshall has confined the inquiry,” says Jefferson, “to what Burr contemplated against Mexico – a mere misdemeanor! You, Wirt, must have the Grand Jury take up that part of the conspiracy which was leveled against this country. There is abundant testimony. Burr talked it to Eaton in Washington, to Morgan in Ohio, to Wilkinson at Fort Massac.”
“You speak of his talking treason,” returns Wirt with a thoughtful, non-committal air. “Did he anywhere or on any occasion act it? Was there any overt act of war?”
“What should you call the doings at Blennerhassett Island? – the gathering of men and stores? – the boat-building at Marietta and Nashville? Are not those, taken with the intention, hostile acts? – overt acts of war?”
Wirt falls into deep study. “We must,” he says after a moment’s silence, “leave those questions, I fear, for Justice Marshall to decide.”
Jefferson relates how he has written Governor Pinckney of South Carolina, advising the arrest of Alston.
“To be sure, Alston is not so bad as Colonel Burr,” he observes, “for the reason that he is not so big as Colonel Burr; just as a young rattlesnake is not so venomous as an old one.” Then, impressively: “Wirt, Colonel Burr is a dangerous man! He will find his place in history as the Catiline of America.”
Wirt cannot hide a smile. “It is but fair you should say so, Mr. President, since at the Richmond hearing he spoke of you as a presidential Jack Straw.” Seeing that Jefferson does not enjoy the reference, Wirt hastens to another subject. “Colonel Burr will have formidable counsel. Aside from Wickham, and Botts, and Edmund Randolph, across from Maryland will come Luther Martin.”
“Luther Martin!” cries Jefferson. “So they are to unloose that Federal bulldog against me! But then the whisky-swilling beast is never sober.”
“No more safe as an adversary for that,” retorts Wirt. “If I am ever called upon to write Luther Martin’s epitaph, I shall make it ‘Ever drunk and ever dangerous!’”
On the bench sits Chief Justice Marshall – tall, slender – eyes as black as Aaron’s own – face high, dignified – brow noble, full – the whole man breathing distinction. By his side, like some small thing lost in shadow, no one noticing him, no one addressing him, a picture of silent humility, sits District Judge Griffin.
For the Government comes Wirt, sneering, harsh – as cold and hard and fine and keen as thrice-tempered steel. With him is Hay – slow, pompous, of much respectability and dull weakness. Assisting Wirt and Hay and filling a minor place, is one McRae.
Leading for the defense, is Aaron himself – confident, unshaken. Already he has begun to relay his plans of Mexican conquest. He assures Blennerhassett, who is with him, that the present interruption should mean no more than a time-waste of six months. With Aaron sit Edmund Randolph, the local Nestor; Wickham, clear, sure of law and fact; and Botts, the Bayard of the Richmond bar. Most formidable is Aaron’s rear guard, the thunderous Luther Martin – coarse, furious, fearless – gay clothes stained and soiled – ruffles foul and grimy – eye fierce, bleary, bloodshot – nose bulbous, red as a carbuncle – a hoarse, roaring, threatening voice – the Thersites of the hour. Never sober, he rolls into court as drunk as a Plantagenet. Ever dangerous, he reads, hears, sees everything, and forgets nothing. Quick, rancorous, headlong as a fighting bull, he lowers his horns against Wirt, whenever that polished one puts himself within forensic reach. Also, for all his cool, sneering skill, Toreador Wirt never meets the charge squarely, but steps aside from it.
Apropos of nothing, as Martin takes his place by the trial table, he roars out:
“Why is this trial ordered for Richmond? Why is it not heard in Washington? It is by command of Jefferson, sir. He thinks that in his own State of Virginia, where he is invincible and Colonel Burr a stranger, the name of ‘Jefferson’ will compel a verdict of guilt. There is fairness for you!”
Wirt glances across, but makes no response to the tirade; for Martin, purple of face, snorting ferociously, seems only waiting a word from him to utter worse things.
The Grand Jury is chosen: foreman, John Randolph of Roanoke – sour, inimical, hateful, voice high and spiteful like the voice of a scolding woman! The Grand Jury is sent to its room to deliberate as to indictments, while the court adjourns for the day.
It is well into the evening when the parties in interest leave the courtroom. As Wirt and Hay, arm in arm, are crossing the courthouse green, they become aware of an orator who, loud of tone and careless of his English, is addressing a crowd from the steps of a corner grocery. Just as the two arrive within earshot, the orator, lean, hawklike of face, tosses aloft a rake-handle arm, and shouts:
“When Jefferson says that Colonel Burr is a traitor, Jefferson lies in his throat!” The crowd applaud enthusiastically.
Hay looks at Wirt. “Who is the fellow?” he asks.
“Oh! he’s a swashbuckler militia general,” returns Wirt, carelessly. “He’s a low fellow, I’m told; his name is Andrew Jackson. He was one of Colonel Burr’s confederates. They say he’s the greatest blackguard in Tennessee.”
Just now, did some Elijah touch the Wirtian elbow and tell of a day to come when he, Wirt, will be driven to resign that coveted attorney generalship into the presidential hands of the “blackguard,” who will receive it promptly, and dismiss him into private life no more than half thanked for what public service he has rendered, the ambitious Virginian would hold the soothsayer to be a madman, not a prophet.
Scores upon scores of witnesses are sent one by one to the Grand Jury. The days run into weeks. Every hour the question is asked: “Where is Wilkinson?” The red-nosed one is strangely, exasperatingly absent.
Wirt seeks to explain that absence. The journey is long, he says. He will pledge his honor for the red-nosed one’s appearance.
Meanwhile the friends of Aaron pour in from North and West and South. The stubborn, faithful Swartwout is there, with his brother Samuel; for, Samuel Swartwout and young Ogden and Adair and Bollman, shipped aforetime per schooner to Baltimore by the red-nosed one as traitors, have been declared innocent, and are all in Richmond attending upon their chief.
One morning the whisper goes about that “Wilkinson is here.” The whisper is confirmed by the red-nosed one’s appearance in court. Young Washington Irving, who has come down from New York in the interest of Aaron, writes concerning that red-nosed advent:
Wilkinson strutted into court, and took his stand in a parallel line with Colonel Burr. Here he stood for a moment swelling like a turkey cock, and bracing himself to meet Colonel Burr’s eye. The latter took no notice of him, until Judge Marshall directed the clerk to “swear General Wilkinson.” At the mention of the name, Colonel Burr turned and looked him full in the face, with one of his piercing regards, swept him from head to foot, and then went on conversing with his counsel as before. The whole look was over in a moment; and yet it was admirable. There was no appearance of study or constraint, no affectation of disdain or defiance; only a slight expression of contempt played across the countenance, such as one might show on seeing a person whom one considers mean and vile.
That evening Samuel Swartwout meets the red-nosed one, as the latter warrior is strutting on the walk for the admiration of men, and thrusts him into a mud hole. The lean Jackson is so delighted at this disposition of the rednosed one, that he clasps the warlike Swartwout in his rake-handle arms. Later, by twenty-two years, he will make him collector of the port of New York for it. Just now, however, he advises a duel, holding that the mudhole episode will be otherwise incomplete.
Since Swartwout has had the duel in his mind from the beginning, he and the lean Jackson combine in the production of a challenge, which is duly sent to the red-nosed one in the name of Swartwout. The red-nosed one has no heart for duels, and crawls from under the challenge by saying, “I refuse to hold communication with a traitor.” Thereupon Swartwout, with the lean Jackson to aid him, again lapses into the clerical, and prints the following gorgeous outburst in the Richmond Gazette:
Brigadier General Wilkinson: Sir: When once the chain of infamy grapples to a knave, every new link creates a fresh sensation of detestation and horror. As it gradually or precipitately unfolds itself, we behold in each succeeding connection, and arising from the same corrupt and contaminated source, the same base and degenerated conduct. I could not have supposed that you would have completed the catalogue of your crimes by adding to the guilt of treachery forgery and perjury the accomplishment of cowardice. Having failed in two different attempts to procure an interview with you, such as no gentleman of honor could refuse, I have only to pronounce and publish you to the world as a coward.
Samuel Swartwout.
The Grand Jury comes into court, and by the shrill mouth of Foreman Randolph reports two indictments against Aaron: one for treason, “as having levied war against the United States,” and one for “having levied war upon a country, to wit, Mexico, with which the United States are at peace” – the latter a misdemeanor.
CHAPTER XX – HOW AARON IS FOUND INNOCENT
THE indictments are read, and Aaron pleads “Not guilty!” Thereupon Luther Martin moves for a subpoena duces tecum against Jefferson, commanding him to bring into court those written orders from the files of the War Department, which he, as President and ex officio commander in chief of the army, issued to the red-nosed Wilkinson. Arguing the motion, the violent Martin proceeds in these words:
“We intend to show that these orders were contrary to the Constitution and the laws. We intend to show that by these orders Colonel Burr’s property and person were to be destroyed; yes, by these tyrannical orders the life and property of an innocent man were to be exposed to destruction. This is a peculiar case, sirs. President Jefferson has undertaken to prejudge my client by declaring that ‘of his guilt there can be no doubt!’ He has assumed to himself the knowledge of the Supreme Being, and pretended to search the heart of my client. He has proclaimed him a traitor in the face of the country. He has let slip the dogs of war, the hell-hounds of persecution, to hunt down my client. And now, would the President of the United States, who has himself raised all this clamor, pretend to keep back the papers wanted for a trial where life itself is at stake? It is a sacred principle that the accused has a right to the evidence needed for his defense, and whosoever – whether he be a president or some lesser man – withholds such evidence is substantially a murderer, and will, be so recorded in the register of heaven.”
Argument ended, Marshall, chief justice, sustains the motion. He holds that the subpoena duces tecum may issue, and goes so far as to say that, if it be necessary to the ends of justice, the personal attendance of Jefferson himself shall be compelled.
The charge is treason, and no bail can be taken; Aaron must be locked up. The Governor of Virginia offers as a place of detention a superb suite of rooms, meant for official occupation, on the third floor of the penitentiary building. Marshall, chief justice, accepting such proffer, orders Aaron’s confinement in the superb official suite. Aaron takes possession, stocks the larder, loads the sideboards, and, with a cloud of servitors, gives a dinner party to twenty friends.
The lustrous Theo arrives, and makes her residence with Aaron in the official suite, as lady of the establishment. Each day a hundred visitors call, among them the aristocracy of the town. Also dinner follows dinner; the official suite assumes a gala, not to say a gallant look, and no one would think it a prison, or dream for one urbane moment that Aaron – that follower of the gospel according to Lord Chesterfield – is fighting for his life.
Following the order for the subpoena duces tecum, and Aaron’s dinner-giving incarceration in the official suite, Marshall, chief justice, directs that court be adjourned until August – a month away.
Wirt, during the vacation, goes over to Washington. He finds Jefferson in a mood of double anger.
“What did I tell you,” cries Jefferson – “what did I tell you of Marshall?” Then he rushes on to the utterances of the violent Luther Martin. “Shall you not move,” he demands, “to commit Martin as particeps criminis with Colonel Burr? There should be evidence to fix upon him misprision of treason, at least. At any rate, such a step would put down our impudent Federal bulldog, and show that the most clamorous defenders of Colonel Burr are one and all his accomplices.”
Meanwhile, the “impudent Federal bulldog” attends a Fourth-of-July dinner in Baltimore. Every man at table, save himself, is an adherent of Jefferson. Eager to demonstrate that loyal fact to the administration, sundry of the guests make speeches full of uncompliment for Martin, and propose a toast:
“Aaron Burr! May his treachery to his country exalt him to the scaffold!”
More speeches, replete of venom, are aimed at Martin; whereupon that undaunted drunkard gets upon his feet.
“Who is this Aaron Burr,” he roars, “whose guilt you have pronounced, and for whose blood your parched throats so thirst? Was not he, a few years back, adored by you next to your God? Were not you then his warmest admirers? Did not he then possess every virtue? He was then in power. He had influence. You were proud of his notice. His merest smile brightened all your faces. His merest frown lengthened all your visages. Go, ye holiday, ye sunshine friends! – ye time-servers, ye criers of hosannah to-day and crucifiers to-morrow! – go; hide your heads from the contempt and detestation of every honorable, every right-minded man!”
August: The day of trial arrives. Wirt, with the dull, deferent Hay, has gone over the testimony against Aaron, and arranged the procession of its introduction. Wirt will begin far back. By the mouth of the red-nosed Wilkinson – somewhat in hiding from Swartwout – and by others, he will relate from the beginning Aaron’s dream of Mexican conquest. He will show how the vision grew and expanded until it reacted upon the United States, and the downfall of Washington became as much parcel of Aaron’s design as was the capture of Mexico. He will trace Aaron through his many conferences in Washington, in Marietta, in Nashville, in Cincinnati; and then on to New Orleans, where he is closeted with Merchant Clark and the Bishop of Louisiana.
And so the parties go into court.
The jury being sworn, Marshall, chief justice, at once overthrows those well-laid plans of Wirt.
“You must go to the act, sir,” says Marshall.
“Treason, like murder, is an act. You can’t think treason, you can’t plot treason, you can’t talk treason; you can only act it. In murder you must first prove the killing – the murderous act, before you may offer evidence of an intent. And so in treason. You must begin by proving the overt act of war against the country, before I can permit evidence of an intent which led up to it.”
This ruling throws Wirt abroad in his calculations. The “Federal bulldog” Martin grows vulgarly gleeful, Wirt correspondingly glum.
Being prodded by Marshall, chief justice, Wirt declares that the “act of war” was the assembling of forty armed men, under one Taylor, at Blennerhassett Island. They stopped at the island but a moment, and Aaron himself was in Lexington. None the less there were forty of them; they were armed; they were there by design and plan of Aaron, with an ultimate purpose of levying war against this Government. Wirt urges that constructive war was at that very island moment being waged, with Aaron personally absent but constructively present, and constructively waging such war.
At this setting forth, Marshall, chief justice, puckers his lips, as might one who thinks the argument far-fetched and overfinely spun. Martin, the “Federal bulldog,” does not scruple to laugh outright.
“Was ever heard such hash!” cries Martin. “Men may bear arms without waging war! Forty men no more mean war than four! Men may float down the Ohio, and still no war be waged. Because the hypochondriac Jefferson imagined war, we are to receive the thing as res adjudicata, and now give way while a pleasantly concocted tale, of that carnage of a presidential nightmare, is recited from the witness box. Sirs, you are not to fiddle folk onto a scaffold to any such tune as that, though a president furnish the music.”
Marshall, chief justice, still with pursed lips and knotted forehead, directs Wirt to proceed with his evidence of what, at Blennerhassett Island, he relies upon to constitute, constructively or otherwise, a state of war. Having heard the evidence, he will pass upon the points of law presented.
Wirt, desperate because he may do no better, puts forward one Eaton as a witness. The latter tells a long, involved story, which sounds vastly like fiction and not at all like fact, of conversations with Aaron. Aaron brings out in cross examination, that within ten days after he, Eaton, went with this tale to Jefferson, a claim for ten thousand dollars, which he had been pressing without success against the Government, was paid. Aaron suggests that Eaton, to induce payment of such claim, invented his narrative; and the suggestion is plainly acceptable to the jury.
Following Eaton, Wirt calls Truxton; and next the suspicious Morgan, who first wrote to Jefferson touching Aaron and his plans. Then follow Blennerhassett’s gardener and groom, and one Woodbridge, Blennerhassett’s man of business. Wirt, by these, proves Aaron’s frequent presence on the island; the boats building at Marietta; the advent of Taylor with his forty armed men, and there the relation ends. In all – the testimony, not a knife is ground, not a flint is picked, not a rifle fired; the forty armed men do not so much as indulge in drill. For all they said or did or acted, the forty might have been explorers, or sightseers, or settlers, or any other form of peaceful whatnot.
“I suppose,” observes Marshall, chief justice, bending his black eyes warningly upon Wirt – “I suppose it unnecessary to instruct counsel that guilt will not be presumed?”
Wirt replies stiffly that counsel for the Government, at least, require no instructions; whereat Martin the “Federal bulldog” barks hoarsely up, that what counsel for the Government most require, and are most deficient in, is a case and the evidence of it. Wirt pays no heed to the jeer, but announces that under the ruling of the court, made before evidence was introduced, he has nothing more to offer touching acts of overt war. He rests his case, he says, on that point; and thereupon, the defense take issue with him. The Government, Aaron declares, has failed to make out even the shadow of a treason. There is nothing which demands reply; he will call no witnesses.
Marshall, chief justice, directs that the arguments to the jury be proceeded with. Wirt is heard. Being imaginative, and having no facts, he unchains his fancy and paints a paradise, whereof Aaron is the serpent and Blennerhassett and his moon-visaged spouse are Adam and Eve. It is a beautiful picture, and might be effective did it carry any grain of truth. However, it is well received by the jury as a romance full of entertaining glow and glitter; and then it is put aside from serious consideration.
While Wirt the fanciful is thus coloring his invented paradise, with Aaron as the serpent and the Blennerhassetts the betrayed Adam and Eve, the “betrayed” Blennerhassett, sitting by Aaron’s side, is reading the “serpent” a letter, that day received from Madam Blennerhassett. The missive closes:
“Apprise Colonel Burr of my warmest acknowledgments for his own and Theo’s kind remembrances. Tell him to assure her that she has inspired me with a warmth of attachment that never can diminish.”
On the oratorical back of Wirt come Wickham, Hay, Randolph, Botts, and McRae. Lastly Martin is heard, the “Federal bulldog” seizing the occasion to bay Jefferson even more violently than before. When they are done, Marshall, chief justice, lays down the law as to what should constitute an “overt act of war”; and, since it is plain, even to the court crier, that no such act has been proven, the jury hurry forward a finding:
“Not guilty!”
Jefferson, full of prejudice, hears the news. He writes wrathfully to Wirt:
“Let no witness depart without taking a copy of his evidence, which is now more important than ever. The criminal Burr is preserved, it seems, to become the rallying point of all the disaffected and worthless of the United States, and to be the pivot on which all the conspiracies and intrigues, that foreign governments may wish to disturb us with, are to turn. There is still, however, the misdemeanor; and, if he be convicted of that, Judge Marshall must, for very decency, give us some respite by a confinement of him; but we must expect it to be very short.” There is a day’s recess; then the charge of “levying war against Mexico” is called. The red-nosed Wilkinson now tells his story; and is made to admit – the painful sweat standing in great drops upon his purple visage – that he has altered in important respects several of Aaron’s letters. Being, by his own mouth, a forger, the jury marks its estimate of the red-nosed one by again acquitting Aaron, and pronouncing a second finding: “Not guilty!”
Thus ends the great trial which has rocked a continent. Aaron is free; his friends crowd about him jubilantly, while the loving, lustrous Theo weeps upon his shoulder.
