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.”