About every courthouse in the "Blue Grass" still linger traditions
of the late Thomas F. Marshall. For him Nature did well her part.
He was a genius if one ever walked this earth. Tall, erect,
handsome, of commanding presence, and with intellectual endowment such
as is rarely vouchsafed to man, no place seemed beyond his reach.
Having in addition the prestige of family, that counted for much, and
being the possessor of inherited wealth, it indeed seemed that
to one man "fortune had come with both of her hands full." The
successor of Clay and Crittenden as Representative for the Ashland
District, a peerless orator upon the hustings, at the bar, and
in the Great Hall, his life went out in sorrow and disappointment.
"Of all sad words of tongue or pen
The saddest are these, 'It might have been!'"
His eulogy upon the gifted and lamented Menifee, the tribute of
genius to genius, belongs to the realm of the loftiest eloquence, and
seldom have words of deeper pathos been written than his own obituary
--"Poor Tom's a-cold"--by George D. Prentice.
As to why that which seemed so full of promise "turned to ashes
upon the lips," the following will explain. Meeting his kinsman, the
Rev. Dr. Breckenridge, he said: "Bob, when you and I graduated,
you took to the pulpit and I to the bottle, and _I have stuck to
my text a good deal closer than you have to yours!"_
Not inaptly has hell been described as "disqualification in the
face of opportunity."
Bearing in mind Marshall's invariable habit of _not_ paying his
debts, the point of the closing remark of the judge in the incident
to be related will appear. Marshall was engaged in the defence of
a man charged with murder in a county some distance from his own
home. Failing repeatedly in his attempt to introduce certain
testimony excluded by the Court, he at length exclaimed:
"It was upon just such rulings as that that Jesus Christ was
convicted."
"Mr. Clerk, enter up a fine of ten dollars against Mr. Marshall
for contempt of court," was the prompt response of the judge.
"Well," said Marshall, "this is the first time in a Christian
country I have ever heard of a _man being fined for abusing Pontius
Pilate!"_
"Mr. Clerk," said the judge, with scarcely suppressed indignation,
"enter up a fine of twenty-five dollars against Mr. Marshall for
contempt of court, and the further order that he be imprisoned
in the common jail of the county until the fine and costs are paid."
The death-like stillness that fell upon the assemblage was at length
broken by Mr. Marshall arising and gravely addressing the Court.
"If Your Honor please, I am engaged in the trial of an important
case, one where human life may depend upon my efforts. I have just
been fined twenty-five dollars and ordered to be imprisoned until the
fine is paid. Upon a careful examination of my pockets, I find
that I have not that amount _nor any other amount_ about my person.
I am more than one hundred miles from home and among strangers.
In looking over this audience, I find but one familiar face, that of
Your Honor. I am therefore constrained to request Your Honor,
as an old and cherished friend, _to lend me_ the amount necessary
to discharge this fine."
Instantly the judge exclaimed: "Remit that fine, Mr. Clerk;
_the State is more able to lose it than I am."_