Even after Mr. Jefferson came to the end of his term of office and retired to Monticello the feud between the Chief Justice and himself went on. In the summer of 1821 a series of articles by Judge Spencer Roane, of the Virginia Court of Appeals, attacking the Chief Justice and presenting the states’ rights argument against the extension of Federal power, appeared in The Enquirer. In a letter to his colleague Justice Story, Judge Marshall attributed the vulgarity of their tone to Roane, but imagined the “acerbity of language increased by his communications with the Great Lama of the mountains.” And even when Jefferson died the Chief Justice, kindly though he was in most human relationships, could not bring himself to the point of expressing distress or offering a word of praise.
Edmund Randolph, the elder statesman, did not long survive the trial. That, in fact, was his last memorable appearance. He died in 1813 at the age of 60 years. By an irony of fate the youngest of the counsel in the trial was the first to go. The prospects of a brilliant career were cruelly blasted when Benjamin Botts and his young wife met death in the burning of the Richmond Theater on December 26, 1811. So, save for his part in the defense of Aaron Burr, he is best known in local history as the father of John Minor Botts, a Virginia statesman.
William Wirt’s participation was a prelude to greater achievement. His distinction as a lawyer increased with the years and he eventually became Attorney General of the United States in three administrations. Wirt combined with the law the avocation of a man of letters. He wrote a life of Patrick Henry and a series of essays under the title of Letters of a British Spy in which he portrayed some of his contemporaries. These publications gave him momentary fame. He was alert to seize any inspiration for a literary composition whether it was the death of an acquaintance or an early morning stroll.
Of the two warriors who figured in the trial the futures were in striking contrast. Winfield Scott appeared there only as a youthful spectator. He won his spurs in the War of 1812 where he proved beyond a doubt that his natural calling was that of a soldier. Between military assignments he occasionally returned to Richmond to pursue his courtship of the lovely and talented Maria Mayo. It was said that he wooed her as lieutenant, captain, major, and colonel, and finally as general won her hand. He eventually rose to be Commander-in-Chief of the United States Army. But when, in that position, he was delegated the task of invading and conquering his native state, Virginia erased his name from the list of her distinguished sons and has never restored it.
The other warrior was Major General James Wilkinson. Battered and bruised from his experience at the hands of the Grand Jury and counsel for the defense he returned to the Southwest to resume his command. When, in the War of 1812, General Dearborn demonstrated beyond any doubt that he was unequal to the task of commanding the United States Army of the North, the nation once more in her dire need called on the leader who, according to his own account, had saved her from the threats of Aaron Burr.
Wilkinson, with the same lethargy of movement that had characterized his entry on the scene at the Burr trial, eventually reached the northern theater in the middle of the summer of 1813. His ensuing campaign was as disastrous to American arms as that of his predecessor had been. After a succession of failures he gladly welcomed relief from command though he had still to face a court-martial. This exonerated him from blame, which no doubt under the circumstances was a just decision. The nation at last seemed to have arrived at the conclusion that it could be saved without intercession of the General. He was not called on again. The remaining twelve years of life that fate generously granted him were spent in retirement in Mexico. His position there, though comfortable enough, was something less than it would have been had he appeared there as the commander of the conquering army of Emperor Aaron I.
George Hay who had battled so bravely, if unsuccessfully, for the Government eventually won his reward as a Republican stalwart. He was elevated to the bench as Judge of the Federal District of Virginia. Further to seal his connection with the “Virginia Dynasty,” he took as his second wife Eliza, daughter of James Monroe.
Hay’s colleague MacRae, following his appearance as counsel for the prosecution, passed through various vicissitudes of fortune. Soon after the trial he was appointed American consul in Paris. He remained in Europe a few years before returning to Richmond. What then happened to him is obscure. One account has it that he met with financial reverses. However that may be he disappeared from Richmond, leaving his wife behind, and never returned. He is reported to have died in England.
Of Andrew Jackson and Washington Irving nothing needs to be said. Their later careers are too well known to require a recapitulation here.
Following his release on bail to await the action of the Ohio Grand Jury Colonel Burr set out for the North. He was accompanied by the ever faithful young Samuel Swartwout, Luther Martin, and Harman Blennerhassett. Blennerhassett’s excuse was that he was sticking with the Colonel in the hope of recovering more of his money. Whatever the reason he seemed always ready to answer the Colonel’s beck and call and to enjoy his company, however much he might abuse him behind his back.