CHAPTER XXIII

BETWEEN THE MILLSTONES

T will seem strange that so few of Burr's expected followers joined him at the appointed rendezvous.

IT

A glance at the history of the time supplies an undeniable solution of the situation. The President's proclamation had been issued just in the nick of time. It struck the western malcontents at that desperate point of uncertainty which just precedes positive action. Had it been issued a month later, twenty thousand followers would have flocked to Burr's standard, and the conspiracy, or rebellion, would have been recorded in history as a revolution.

Those who had been loudest in their denunciations of Congress were now dumb as oysters. Those who had vaunted their ability to bring down a Spaniard at long range were conspicuous for the zeal with which they followed the plough or wielded the hoe. In hundreds of homes, the brightly-burnished musket or rifle, together with bullet-pouch and powder-horn, had stood ready to be clutched when the signal for the advance was heard. After the tenor of the proclamation became known, the unloaded weapon hung peacefully over the mantelpiece, or was relegated to a dark corner of the attic. If the Rubicon had been passed, all these men would have been warriors, for the issue would have been success or failure, life or death. No, these were the piping times of peace and only conspirators and traitors bore arms unlawfully.

The country was startled. Loyalty and patriotism

sprang up. To all, without distinction of party, the whole affair seemed plain. Aaron Burr, the disappointed politician, who had tried to defeat Jefferson at his first election, and who had hoped to secure the highest place in the gift of the people by virtue of his position as Governor of New York; who had killed Hamilton because the latter had worked successfully to defeat his aspirations; who had conspired to keep Kentucky and Tennessee from joining the Union; this filibuster, at the head of armed followers, now intended to take possession of Louisiana and the mouth of the Mississippi; next to conquer Texas and Mexico and make himself the head of a new empire. How natural and probable all this seemed to the people in those days. Yet, it must be remembered that the Federalists, of whom Hamilton was the great exponent, were opposed to the United States extending westward. On the other hand, the Democratic-Republican party, of which Jefferson was the head, believed that the "star of empire" should take its way westward, and that the United States should reach to the eastern border of the Mississippi at least. To timid men, it seemed probable that after the arch-traitor Burr had conquered the Southwestern Territory, that he would have designs upon the country bordering upon the western bank of the Mississippi River. As Napoleon Bonaparte was the terror of Europe, so Aaron Burr became the terror of America. As English mothers used to frighten their children by telling them that Bonaparte was coming, it is not improbable that some American mothers influenced their offspring with tales of the great traitor and conspirator, Aaron Burr. He was the man on horseback, ready and willing to ride into power over the rights of the American Republic, which, by years of battle, thousands of lives, and millions of treasure, had been made free. Here was a man who menaced their liberties and whom it was their duty to

remove from their path so that he could do their common country no further injury. It is not to be wondered at that all patriotic citizens looked to Jefferson to free them from this ogre, this spectre! Thus it happened that the same man who by his tact and political skill made Jefferson President of the United States, by his unsuccessful scheme rooted the Virginia politician in his seat, and for sixteen years after the expiration of Jefferson's term Virginia was the mother of Presidents.

For several days after his adventure with the Indians, Burr kept on his way. He had to lose some time in allowing his horse to rest, and his supply of provisions had become quite small, but he knew by various signs that he was approaching a more settled region.

One night, he espied a light and judged by its position that it must be in some log-house. He had been advised that when he arrived at a river, which he had recognized, that not far beyond lived a certain Colonel Hinson who was in sympathy with his plans, and it was his purpose to reach this man and remain secreted for a few days before deciding upon his future course.

Arrived at the little rude cabin, he alighted from his horse and glancing through the window saw two men playing a game of checkers. This seemed a peaceful avocation and he knocked at the door. He inquired of the young man who answered the summons, the direction to Colonel Hinson's house. This was given him, and, thanking his informant, he mounted his horse and rode off.

As the young man who had given Burr the information came back into the cabin, his companion said: Come, Perkins, sit down and finish the game.' "No," said Perkins, "I have better game on hand. Do you know who that man was who came to the door?"

"Of course, I don't," said the other. "I didn't look at him. Why should I?”

"Well," said Perkins, "that man means two thousand dollars to me; if you'll help me catch him, we'll divide."

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No," replied the other man, "you can have the whole of it. I don't take any stock in your story."

Perkins was not particularly desirous of imparting any more information to his companion. If he had told him that the man who had come to the door was Aaron Burr, for whom a reward of two thousand dollars was offered, he had no doubt his friend would have been willing to accompany him. But Perkins was human, and realized that two thousand was twice as much as one thousand. So, dashing out of the cabin, he started towards the house of the sheriff of the county, which was not far distant from Colonel Hinson's.

To the sheriff he told his story, and, being promised part of the reward if he made the arrest, the sheriff went to the Colonel's house. There he found that a stranger had arrived, had introduced himself to the Colonel, had been made welcome, and was enjoying a good supper before a blazing fire. The sheriff was welcomed by the Colonel and introduced to Burr, who, of course, had given an assumed name.

Burr was at his best that evening. Story followed story; witticism followed witticism, and the Colonel and the sheriff shook their sides with laughter. Although the sheriff had come with the intention of arresting Burr, the idea rapidly vanished from his mind; and when, at half-past eleven, he told the Colonel that he must go home, he made no attempt to interfere with the personal liberty of Colonel Hinson's guest.

On going from the house, the sheriff was met by Perkins whọ, half-frozen, abused him roundly for his failure to make the arrest. The sheriff resented this

and told him that the man's name was not Burr, and that if Perkins wished to make a fool of himself he had his permission. Perkins, however, knew his man. He had seen those eyes when Burr had presided over the Senate at Washington, and he knew that there was not another man in America with such a pair.

Procuring a horse, he rode to Fort Gaines, and, making his report to the officer in command, a squad of soldiers was sent with him to make the arrest.

Burr, by the advice of Colonel Hinson, had left, early the next morning, on his course eastward; but he was overtaken by the party of soldiers, and, Perkins having sworn that he was Aaron Burr, the fugitive was taken into custody by the United States troops.

Then followed a long, dangerous, and uncomfortable journey northward. It covered several weeks, but finally, Richmond, Va., was reached, and Burr was incarcerated in the penitentiary. The news of his arrest soon spread over the country. A grand jury was at once impaneled to bring in an indictment against him. The celebrated Chief Justice Marshall was to preside at the trial.

A true bill was found and the date for the trial fixed. Burr determined to conduct his case in person, but he called to his aid his great friend, Luther Martin, of Maryland, Mr. Wickham, and Edmund Randolph of Virginia. Counting himself, this made a quartette of legal notables.

The prosecution was conducted by Colonel Hay and Mr. McRae, and to their number was added, later, the celebrated William Wirt, afterwards Attorney-General under President Madison.

It is not necessary to go over any but the most important details of this remarkable trial, the stenographic report of which covered a thousand printed pages. The counsel for the defence, knowing that the whole