As early as May 20 the President wrote Hay that he was sending him some blank pardons that were to be filled out at Hay’s discretion “if you should find a defect of evidence and believe that this could supply it.” However, he cautioned Hay that they were not to be given to gross offenders “unless it be visible that the principal will otherwise escape.”
Bollman evidently was regarded by the President as a man whose testimony would be sufficiently important to justify his being given a pardon should he consent to turn State’s evidence. A week after sending the blank pardons to Hay he wrote him that: “If a bill [against Burr] be found and a trial had, his [Bollman’s] evidence is deemed entirely essential, and in that case his pardon is to be produced before he goes to book.” In short, Bollman was to be offered a pardon if he would testify against Burr. But Bollman was not so keen to betray his friend. Hay filled out the pardon; Bollman spurned it. Hay then wrote the President for instructions.
“You ask,” replied the President, “what is to be done if Bollman finally rejects his pardon, and the Judge decides it to have no effect. Move to commit him immediately for treason or misdemeanor.” There were times when the mild-mannered “Sage of Monticello” could be tough.
At this point the side play was interrupted by the arrival of the Government’s star witness, Major General James Wilkinson, Commander-in-Chief of the United States Army. In the excitement caused by his martial entry the subpoena duces tecum was brushed aside and almost forgotten.
On the original subpoena, now in the Federal Courthouse in Richmond, is an indorsement in Burr’s handwriting indicating that he did not expect to bring the President into court. On the other hand, the language used by the Chief Justice in his opinion certainly indicated that he expected the President to appear in person. Certainly the President, in setting forth in his letter to Hay his reasons for not coming, indicated that he thought he had been summoned to appear. However, when the writ itself was drawn up it stated that neither the personal attendance of the President nor the other officers of government mentioned was required. When the critical moment came Marshall recoiled from a direct challenge.
Nevertheless a void of several days had been packed with dramatics. The lawyers had been given a chance to exercise their eloquence and the audience had been well entertained. More to the point, Mr. Jefferson had been unmercifully badgered. That probably was as much as Colonel Burr and his counsel expected anyway.
Chapter IX
James Wilkinson was born of good English stock on a farm near Benedict, in southern Maryland, in 1757. A medical career was planned for the boy and he was put under a relative to study for the profession. This was followed by formal training in Philadelphia. A brief adventure into medicine was interrupted by the outbreak of the Revolution when young Wilkinson was seized with patriotic zeal, volunteered in a rifle company, and marched off to join the American forces in Boston.
This transition from a medical to a military career proved permanent. Wilkinson’s genius for self-advancement soon manifested itself. He was an extrovert who did not believe in hiding his light under a bushel. There may have been some doubt among his comrades as to his enthusiasm for engaging in hand-to-hand combat or making a desperate last stand, but none whatever as to his ability in ingratiating himself with his superiors.