Mention of time wasting brought a shout of derision from the defense. The prosecution, they retorted, had wasted enough of it. And suppose the Government in Washington--by which they meant Mr. Jefferson--turned out to be less obliging than the District Attorney? The Chief Justice here remarked somewhat wryly that the _subpoena duces tecum_ usually was requested in cases where it was anticipated that the papers asked for would not be produced. He inquired directly of the District Attorney whether the prosecution would consent to the issuance of the subpoena. On Hay’s refusal to consent the Chief Justice called for argument. There followed a prolonged debate, in which the Chief Justice allowed each lawyer to say his say with no apparent time limit. The situation was a delicate one for Mr. Jefferson. If he were to answer the subpoena by complying with a demand to appear in court in person the executive branch of the Government would be making abject surrender to the judiciary. If, on the other hand, he were to claim an exemption, he--the champion of equality of all men--would be claiming a special privilege which even the King of England hesitated to exercise. The Government’s counsel therefore did not go so far as to deny that the President could be called. But Mr. Hay insisted that the defense had to show that the papers were relevant and material. Further, he contended that the President had a right to reserve any portion of the letters requested whose production in court he considered detrimental to the interests of the United States. Nor was Mr. Hay sure the President was under any obligation to present a letter that had been addressed to him privately. To this, lawyers of the defense replied that in his message to Congress Mr. Jefferson had stated that the letter was addressed to him not as a private individual but as President of the United States. Mr. Hay suggested that a copy of the letter might do. Mr. Wickham of the defense said they would not have it that way. They demanded the original. The debate gave Luther Martin the opportunity to chastise Mr. Jefferson for which he had impatiently been waiting since his entry into the proceedings. The President, he asserted, had undertaken to prejudge Mr. Martin’s client by declaring that “of his guilt there can be no doubt.” He had assumed the knowledge of the Supreme Being himself, and pretended to search the heart of Mr. Martin’s highly respected friend. The President, declared Mr. Martin, had proclaimed Colonel Burr a traitor in the face of the country which had rewarded him. He had “let slip the dogs of war, the hell-hounds of prosecution to hunt down my friend.” And would the President of the United States, who had raised all this absurd clamor, pretend to keep back the papers which were wanted for this trial where life itself was at stake?