Among Friends And Neighbors
It is a circumstance of no little importance that the founder of
American Constitutional Law was in tastes and habit of life a simple
countryman. To the establishment of National Supremacy and the Sanctity
of Contracts Marshall brought the support not only of his office and his
command of the art of judicial reasoning but also the whole-souled
democracy and unpretentiousness of the fields. And it must be borne in
mind that Marshall was on view before his contemporaries as a private
citizen rather more of the time, perhaps, than as Chief Justice. His
official career was, in truth, a somewhat leisurely one. Until 1827 the
term at Washington rarely lasted over six weeks and subsequently not
over ten weeks. In the course of his thirty-four years on the Bench, the
Court handed down opinions in over 1100 cases, which is probably about
four times the number of opinions now handed down at a single term; and
of this number Marshall spoke for the Court in about half the cases.
Toward the middle of March, he left Washington for Richmond, and on the
22d of May opened court in his own circuit. Then, three weeks later, if
the docket permitted, he went on to Raleigh to hold court there for a
few days. The summers he usually spent on the estate which he inherited
from his father at Fauquier, or else he went higher up into the
mountains to escape malaria. But by the 22d of November at the latest he
was back once more in Richmond for court, and at the end of December for
a second brief term he again drove to Raleigh in his high-wheeled gig.
With his return to Washington early in February he completed the round
of his judicial year.
The entire lack of pageantry and circumstance which attended these
journeyings of his is nowhere more gaily revealed than in the following
letter to his wife, which is now published for the first time through
the kindness of Mr. Beveridge:
Rawleigh, Jan.y 2d, 1803.
My dearest Polly
You will laugh at my vexation when you hear the various calamities that
have befallen me. In the first place when I came to review my funds, I
had the mortification to discover that I had lost 15 silver dollars out
of my waist coat pocket. They had worn through the various mendings the
pocket had sustained and sought their liberty in the sands of Carolina.
I determined not to vex myself with what could not be remedied & ordered
Peter to take out my cloaths that I might dress for court when to my
astonishment & grief after fumbling several minutes in the portmanteau,
starting [sic] at vacancy, & sweating most profusely he turned to me
with the doleful tidings that I had no pair of breeches. You may be sure
this piece of intelligence was not very graciously received; however,
after a little scolding, I determined to make the best of my situation &
immediately set out to get a pair made.
I thought I should be a sans-culotte only one day & that for the residue
of the term I might be well enough dressed for the appearance on the
first day to be forgotten.
But, the greatest of evils, I found, was followed by still greater. Not
a taylor in town could be prevailed on to work for me. They were all so
busy that it was impossible to attend to my wants however pressing they
might be, & I have the extreme mortification to pass the whole time
without that important article of dress I have mentioned. I have no
alleviation for this misfortune but the hope that I shall be enabled in
four or five days to commence my journey homeward & that I shall have
the pleasure of seeing you & our dear children in eight or nine days
after this reaches you.
In the meantime, I flatter myself that you are well and happy.
Adieu my dearest Polly
I am your own affectionate,
J. Marshall.
Marshall erected his Richmond home, called "Shockoe Hill," in 1793 on a
plot of ground which he had purchased four years earlier. Here, as his
eulogist has said, was "the scene of his real triumphs." At an early
date his wife became a nervous invalid, and his devotion to her brought
out all the finest qualities of his sound and tender nature. "It is,"
says Mr. Beveridge, "the most marked characteristic of his entire
private life and is the one thing which differentiates him sharply from
the most eminent men of that heroic but socially free-and-easy period."
From his association with his wife Marshall derived, moreover, an
opinion of the sex "as the friends, the companions, and the equals of
man" which may be said to have furnished one of his few points of
sympathetic contact with American political radicalism in his later
years. The satirist of woman, says Story, "found no sympathy in his
bosom," and "he was still farther above the commonplace flatteries by
which frivolity seeks to administer aliment to personal vanity, or vice
to make its approaches for baser purposes. He spoke to the sex when
present, as he spoke of them when absent, in language of just appeal to
their understandings, their tastes, and their duties."
Marshall's relations with his neighbors were the happiest possible.
Every week, when his judicial duties permitted or the more "laborious
relaxation" of directing his farm did not call him away, he attended the
meetings of the Barbecue Club in a fine grove just outside the city, to
indulge in his favorite diversion of quoits. The Club consisted of
thirty of the most prominent men of Richmond, judges, lawyers, doctors,
clergymen, and merchants. To quoits was added the inducement of an
excellent repast of which roast pig was the pièce de résistance. Then
followed a dessert of fruit and melons, while throughout a generous
stock of porter, toddy, and of punch "from which water was carefully
excluded," was always available to relieve thirst. An entertaining
account of a meeting of the Club at which Marshall and his friend
Wickham were the caterers has been thus preserved for us:
At the table Marshall announced that at the last meeting two members had
introduced politics, a forbidden subject, and had been fined a basket of
champagne, and that this was now produced, as a warning to evil-doers;
as the club seldom drank this article, they had no champagne glasses,
and must drink it in tumblers. Those who played quoits retired after a
while for a game. Most of the members had smooth, highly polished brass
quoits. But Marshall's were large, rough, heavy, and of iron, such as
few of the members could throw well from hub to hub. Marshall himself
threw them with great success and accuracy, and often "rang the meg." On
this occasion Marshall and the Rev. Mr. Blair led the two parties of
players. Marshall played first, and rang the meg. Parson Blair did the
same, and his quoit came down plumply on top of Marshall's. There was
uproarious applause, which drew out all the others from the dinner; and
then came an animated controversy as to what should be the effect of
this exploit. They all returned to the table, had another bottle of
champagne, and listened to arguments, one from Marshall, pro se, and one
from Wickham for Parson Blair. [Marshall's] argument is a humorous
companion piece to any one of his elaborate judicial opinions. He began
by formulating the question, "Who is winner when the adversary quoits
are on the meg at the same time?" He then stated the facts, and remarked
that the question was one of the true construction and applications of
the rules of the game. The first one ringing the meg has the advantage.
No other can succeed who does not begin by displacing this first one.
The parson, he willingly allowed, deserves to rise higher and higher in
everybody's esteem; but then he mustn't do it by getting on another's
back in this fashion. That is more like leapfrog than quoits. Then,
again, the legal maxim, Cujus est solum, ejus est usque ad cœlum--his
own right as first occupant extends to the vault of heaven; no opponent
can gain any advantage by squatting on his back. He must either bring a
writ of ejectment, or drive him out vi et armis. And then, after further
argument of the same sort, he asked judgment, and sat down amidst great
applause.
Mr. Wickham then rose, and made an argument of a similar pattern. No
rule, he said, requires an impossibility. Mr. Marshall's quoit is twice
as large as any other; and yet it flies from his arm like the iron ball
at the Grecian games from the arm of Ajax. It is impossible for an
ordinary quoit to move it. With much more of the same sort, he contended
that it was a drawn game. After very animated voting, designed to keep
up the uncertainty as long as possible, it was so decided. Another trial
was had, and Marshall clearly won. ¹
¹ J. B. Thayer, John Marshall (Riverside Biographical Series, 1904), pp.
134-36, paraphrasing G. W. Munford, The Two Parsons (Richmond, 1884),
pp. 326-38.
Years later Chester Harding, who once painted Marshall, visited the
Club. "I watched," says he, "for the coming of the old chief. He soon
approached, with his coat on his arm and his hat in his hand, which he
was using as a fan. He walked directly up to a large bowl of mint julep
which had been prepared, and drank off a tumblerful, smacking his lips,
and then turned to the company with a cheerful 'How are you, gentlemen?'
He was looked upon as the best pitcher of the party and could throw
heavier quoits than any other member of the club. The game began with
great animation. There were several ties; and before long I saw the
great Chief Justice of the United States down on his knees measuring the
contested distance with a straw, with as much earnestness as if it had
been a point of law; and if he proved to be in the right, the woods
would ring with his triumphant shout." ¹ What Wellesley remarked of the
younger Pitt may be repeated of Marshall, that "unconscious of his
superiority," he "plunged heedlessly into the mirth of the hour" and was
endowed with "a gay heart and social spirit beyond any man of his time."
¹ Thayer, op. cit., pp. 132-33.
As a hero of anecdotes Marshall almost rivals Lincoln. Many of the tales
preserved are doubtless apocryphal, but this qualification hardly
lessens their value as contemporary impressions of his character and
habits. They show for what sort of anecdotes his familiarly known
personality had an affinity.
The Chief Justice's entire freedom from ostentation and the gentleness
with which he could rebuke it in others is illustrated in a story often
told. Going early to the market one morning he came upon a youth who was
fuming and swearing because he could get no one to carry his turkey home
for him. Marshall proffered his services. Arriving at the house the
young man asked, "What shall I pay you?" "Oh, nothing," was the reply;
"it was on my way, and no trouble." As Marshall walked away, the young
man inquired of a bystander, "Who is that polite old man that brought
home my turkey for me?" "That," was the answer, "is Judge Marshall,
Chief Justice of the United States."
Of the same general character is an anecdote which has to do with a much
earlier period when Marshall was still a practicing attorney. An old
farmer who was involved in a lawsuit came to Richmond to attend its
trial. "Who is the best lawyer in Richmond?" he asked of his host, the
innkeeper of the Eagle tavern. The latter pointed to a tall, ungainly,
bareheaded man who had just passed, eating cherries from his hat and
exchanging jests with other loiterers like himself. "That is he," said
the innkeeper; "John Marshall is his name." But the old countryman, who
had a hundred dollars in his pocket, proposed to spend it on something
more showy and employed a solemn, black-coated, and much powdered
bigwig. The latter turned out in due course to be a splendid
illustration of the proverb that "fine feathers do not make fine birds."
This the crestfallen rustic soon discovered. Meantime he had listened
with amazement and growing admiration to an argument by Marshall in a
cause which came on before his own. He now went up to Marshall and,
explaining his difficulty, offered him the five dollars which the
exactions of the first attorney still left him, and besought his aid.
With a humorous remark about the power of a black coat and powdered wig
Marshall good-naturedly accepted the retainer.
The religious bent of the Chief Justice's mind is illustrated in another
story, which tells of his arriving toward the close of day at an inn in
one of the counties of Virginia, and falling in with some young men who
presently began ardently to debate the question of the truth or falsity
of the Christian religion. From six until eleven o'clock the young
theologians argued keenly and ably on both sides of the question.
Finally one of the bolder spirits exclaimed that it was impossible to
overcome prejudices of long standing and, turning to the silent visitor,
asked: "Well, my old gentleman, what do you think of these things?" To
their amazement the "old gentleman" replied for an hour in an eloquent
and convincing defense of the Christian religion, in which he answered
in order every objection the young men had uttered. So impressive was
the simplicity and loftiness of his discourse that the erstwhile critics
were completely silenced.
In truth, Marshall's was a reverent mind, and it sprang instinctively to
the defense of ideas and institutions whose value had been tested.
Unfortunately, in his Life of Washington Marshall seems to have given
this propensity a somewhat undue scope. There were external difficulties
in dealing with such a subject apart from those inherent in a great
biography, and Marshall's volumes proved to be a general disappointment.
Still hard pressed for funds wherewith to meet his Fairfax investment,
he undertook this work shortly after he became Chief Justice, at the
urgent solicitation of Judge Bushrod Washington, the literary executor
of his famous uncle. Marshall had hoped to make this incursion into the
field of letters a very remunerative one, for he and Washington had
counted on some thirty thousand subscribers for the work. The publishers
however, succeeded in obtaining only about a quarter of that number,
owing partly at least to the fact that Jefferson had no sooner learned
of the enterprise than his jealous mind conceived the idea that the
biography must be intended for partisan purposes. He accordingly gave
the alarm to the Republican press and forbade the Federal postmasters to
take orders for the book. At the same time he asked his friend Joel
Barlow, then residing in Paris, to prepare a counterblast, for which he
declared himself to be "rich in materials." The author of the Columbiad,
however, declined this hazardous commission, possibly because he was
unwilling to stand sponsor for the malicious recitals that afterwards
saw light in the pages of the Anas.
But apart from this external opposition to the biography, Marshall found
a source of even keener disappointment in the literary defects due to
the haste with which he had done his work. The first three volumes had
appeared in 1804, the fourth in 1805, and the fifth, which is much the
best, in 1807. Republican critics dwelt with no light hand upon the
deficiencies of these volumes, and Marshall himself sadly owned that the
"inelegancies" in the first were astonishingly numerous. But the
shortcomings of the work as a satisfactory biography are more notable
than its lapses in diction. By a design apparently meant to rival the
improvisations of Tristram Shandy, the birth of the hero is postponed
for an entire volume, in which the author traces the settlement of the
country. At the opening of the second volume "the birth of young Mr.
Washington" is gravely announced, to be followed by an account of the
Father of his Country so devoid of intimate touches that it might easily
have been written by one who had never seen George Washington.
Nevertheless, these pages of Marshall's do not lack acute historical
judgments. He points out, for instance, that, if the Revolution had
ended before the Articles of Confederation were adopted, permanent
disunion might have ensued and that, faulty as it was, the Confederation
"preserved the idea of Union until the good sense of the Nation adopted
a more efficient system." Again, in his account of the events leading up
to the Convention of 1787, Marshall rightly emphasizes facts which
subsequent writers have generally passed by with hardly any mention, so
that students may read this work with profit even today. But the chief
importance of these volumes lay, after all, in the additional power
which the author himself derived from the labor of their preparation. In
so extensive an undertaking Marshall received valuable training for his
later task of laying the foundations of Constitutional Law in America.
One of his chief assets on the bench, as we have already seen, was his
complete confidence in his own knowledge of the intentions of the
Constitution--a confidence which was grounded in the consciousness that
he had written the history of the Constitution's framing.
Most of Marshall's correspondence, which is not voluminous, deals with
politics or legal matters. But there are letters in which the personal
side of the Chief Justice is revealed. He gives his friend Story a
touching account of the loss of two of his children. He praises old
friends and laments his inability to make new ones. He commends Jane
Austen, whose novels he has just finished reading. "Her flights," he
remarks, "are not lofty, she does not soar on eagle's wings, but she is
pleasing, interesting, equable, and yet amusing." He laments that he
"can no longer debate and yet cannot apply his mind to anything else."
One recalls Darwin's similar lament that his scientific work had
deprived him of all liking for poetry.
The following letter, which Marshall wrote the year before his death to
his grandson, a lad of fourteen or fifteen, is interesting for its views
on a variety of subjects and is especially pleasing for its
characteristic freedom from condescension:
I had yesterday the pleasure of receiving your letter of the 29th of
November, and am quite pleased with the course of study you are
pursuing. Proficiency in Greek and Latin is indispensable to an
accomplished scholar, and may be of great real advantage in our progress
through human life. Cicero deserves to be studied still more for his
talents than for the improvement in language to be derived from reading
him. He was unquestionably, with the single exception of Demosthenes,
the greatest orator among the ancients. He was too a profound
Philosopher. His "de officiis" is among the most valuable treatises I
have ever seen in the Latin language.
History is among the most essential departments of knowledge; and, to an
American, the histories of England and of the United States are most
instructive. Every man ought to be intimately acquainted with the
history of his own country. Those of England and of the United States
are so closely connected that the former seems to be introductory to the
latter. They form one whole. Hume, as far as he goes, to the revolution
of 1688, is generally thought the best Historian of England. Others have
continued his narrative to a late period, and it will be necessary to
read them also.
There is no exercise of the mind from which more valuable improvement is
to be drawn than from composition. In every situation of life the result
of early practice will be valuable. Both in speaking and writing, the
early habit of arranging our thoughts with regularity, so as to point
them to the object to be proved, will be of great advantage. In both,
clearness and precision are most essential qualities. The man who by
seeking embellishment hazards confusion, is greatly mistaken in what
constitutes good writing. The meaning ought never to be mistaken. Indeed
the readers should never be obliged to search for it. The writer should
always express himself so clearly as to make it impossible to
misunderstand him. He should be comprehended without an effort.
The first step towards writing and speaking clearly is to think clearly.
Let the subject be perfectly understood, and a man will soon find words
to convey his meaning to others. Blair, whose lectures are greatly and
justly admired, advises a practice well worthy of being observed. It is
to take a page of some approved writer and read it over repeatedly until
the matter, not the words, be fully impressed on the mind. Then write,
in your own language, the same matter. A comparison of the one with the
other will enable you to remark and correct your own defects. This
course may be pursued after having made some progress in composition. In
the commencement, the student ought carefully to reperuse what he has
written, correct, in the first instance, every error of orthography and
grammar. A mistake in either is unpardonable. Afterwards revise and
improve the language.
I am pleased with both your pieces of composition. The subjects are well
chosen and of the deepest interest. Happiness is pursued by all, though
too many mistake the road by which the greatest good is to be
successfully followed. Its abode is not always in the palace or the
cottage. Its residence is the human heart, and its inseparable companion
is a quiet conscience. Of this, Religion is the surest and safest
foundation. The individual who turns his thoughts frequently to an
omnipotent omniscient and all perfect being, who feels his dependence
on, and his infinite obligations to that being will avoid that course of
life which must harrow up the conscience.
Marshall was usually most scrupulous to steer clear of partisan politics
both in his letters and in his conversation, so that on one occasion he
was much aroused by a newspaper article which had represented him "as
using language which could be uttered only by an angry party man." But
on political issues of a broader nature he expressed himself freely in
the strict privacy of correspondence at least, and sometimes identified
himself with public movements, especially in his home State. For
instance, he favored the gradual abolition of slavery by private
emancipation rather than by governmental action. In 1823 he became first
president of the Richmond branch of the Colonization Society; five years
later he presided over a convention to promote internal improvements in
Virginia; and in 1829 he took a prominent part in the deliberations of
the State Constitutional Convention.
In the broader matters of national concern his political creed was in
thorough agreement with his constitutional doctrine. Nullification he
denounced as "wicked folly," and he warmly applauded Jackson's
proclamation of warning to South Carolina. But Marshall regarded with
dismay Jackson's aggrandizement of the executive branch, and the one
adverse criticism he has left of the Constitution is of the method
provided for the election of the President. In this connection he wrote
in 1830: "My own private mind has been slowly and reluctantly advancing
to the belief that the present mode of choosing the Chief Magistrate
threatens the most serious danger to the public happiness. The passions
of men are influenced to so fearful an extent, large masses are so
embittered against each other, that I dread the consequences.... Age is,
perhaps, unreasonably timid. Certain it is that I now dread consequences
that I once thought imaginary. I feel disposed to take refuge under some
less turbulent and less dangerous mode of choosing the Chief
Magistrate." Then follows the suggestion that the people of the United
States elect a body of persons equal in number to one-third of the
Senate and that the President be chosen from among this body by lot.
Marshall's suggestion seems absurd enough today, but it should be
remembered that his fears of national disorder as a result of strong
party feeling at the time of presidential elections were thoroughly
realized in 1860 when Lincoln's election led to secession and civil war,
and that sixteen years later, in the Hayes-Tilden contest, a second
dangerous crisis was narrowly averted.
In the campaign of 1832 Marshall espoused privately the cause of Clay
and the United States Bank, and could not see why Virginia should not be
of the same opinion. Writing to Story in the midst of the campaign he
said: "We are up to the chin in politics. Virginia was always insane
enough to be opposed to the Bank of the United States, and therefore
hurrahs for the veto. But we are a little doubtful how it may work in
Pennsylvania. It is not difficult to account for the part New York may
take. She has sagacity enough to see her interests in putting down the
present Bank. Her mercantile position gives her a control, a commanding
control, over the currency and the exchanges of the country, if there be
no Bank of the United States. Going for herself she may approve this
policy; but Virginia ought not to drudge for her." To the end of his
days Marshall seems to have refused to recognize that the South had a
sectional interest to protect, or at least that Virginia's interests
were sectional; her attachment to State Rights he assigned to the
baneful influence of Jeffersonianism.
The year 1831 dealt Marshall two severe blows. In that year his robust
constitution manifested the first signs of impairment, and he was forced
to undergo an operation for stone. In the days before anæsthetics, such
an operation, especially in the case of a person of his advanced years,
was attended with great peril. He faced the ordeal with the utmost
composure. His physician tells of visiting Marshall the morning he was
to submit to the knife and of finding him at breakfast:
He received me with a pleasant smile ... and said, "Well, Doctor, you
find me taking breakfast, and I assure you I have had a good one. I
thought it very probable that this might be my last chance, and
therefore I was determined to enjoy it and eat heartily." ... He said
that he had not the slightest desire to live, laboring under the
sufferings to which he was subjected, and that he was perfectly ready to
take all the chances of an operation, and he knew there were many
against him.... After he had finished his breakfast, I administered him
some medicine; he then inquired at what hour the operation would be
performed. I mentioned the hour of eleven. He said "Very well; do you
wish me for any other purpose, or may I lie down and go to sleep?" I was
a good deal surprised at this question, but told him that if he could
sleep it would be very desirable. He immediately placed himself upon the
bed and fell into a profound sleep, and continued so until I was obliged
to rouse him in order to undergo the operation. He exhibited the same
fortitude, scarcely uttering a murmur throughout the whole procedure
which, from the nature of his complaint, was necessarily tedious.
The death of his wife on Christmas Day of the same year was a heavy
blow. Despite her invalidism, she was a woman of much force of character
and many graces of mind, to which Marshall rendered touching tribute in
a quaint eulogy composed for one of his sons on the first anniversary of
her death:
Her judgment was so sound and so safe that I have often relied upon it
in situations of some perplexity.... Though serious as well as gentle in
her deportment, she possessed a good deal of chaste, delicate, and
playful wit, and if she permitted herself to indulge this talent, told
her little story with grace, and could mimic very successfully the
peculiarities of the person who was its subject. She had a fine taste
for belle-lettre reading.... This quality, by improving her talents for
conversation, contributed not inconsiderably to make her a most
desirable and agreeable companion. It beguiled many of those winter
evenings during which her protracted ill health and her feeble nervous
system confined us entirely to each other. I shall never cease to look
back on them with deep interest and regret.... She felt deeply the
distress of others, and indulged the feeling liberally on objects she
believed to be meritorious.... She was a firm believer in the faith
inculcated by the Church in which she was bred, but her soft and gentle
temper was incapable of adopting the gloomy and austere dogmas which
some of its professors have sought to engraft on it.
Marshall believed women were the intellectual equals of men, because he
was convinced that they possessed in a high degree "those qualities
which make up the sum of human happiness and transform the domestic
fireside into an elysium," and not because he thought they could compete
on even terms in the usual activities of men.
Despite these "buffetings of fate," the Chief Justice was back in
Washington in attendance upon Court in February, 1832, and daily walked
several miles to and from the Capitol. In the following January his
health appeared to be completely restored. "He seemed," says Story, with
whom he messed, along with Justices Thompson and Duval, "to revive, and
enjoy anew his green old age." This year Marshall had the gratification
of receiving the tribute of Story's magnificent dedication of his
Commentaries to him. With characteristic modesty, the aged Chief Justice
expressed the fear that his admirer had "consulted a partial friendship
farther than your deliberate judgment will approve." He was especially
interested in the copy intended for the schools, but he felt that "south
of the Potomac, where it is most wanted it will be least used," for, he
continued, "it is a Mohammedan rule never to dispute with the ignorant,
and we of the true faith in the South adjure the contamination of
infidel political works. It would give our orthodox nullifyer a fever to
read the heresies of your Commentaries. A whole school might be infected
by the atmosphere of a single copy should it be placed on one of the
shelves of a bookcase."
Marshall sat on the Bench for the last time in the January term of 1835.
Miss Harriet Martineau, who was in Washington during that winter, has
left a striking picture of the Chief Justice as he appeared in these
last days. "How delighted," she writes, "we were to see Judge Story
bring in the tall, majestic, bright-eyed old man,--old by chronology, by
the lines on his composed face, and by his services to the republic; but
so dignified, so fresh, so present to the time, that no compassionate
consideration for age dared mix with the contemplation of him."
Marshall was, however, a very sick man, suffering constant pain from a
badly diseased liver. The ailment was greatly aggravated, moreover, by
"severe contusions" which he received while returning in the stage from
Washington to Richmond. In June he went a second time to Philadelphia
for medical assistance, but his case was soon seen to be hopeless. He
awaited death with his usual serenity, and two days before it came he
composed the modest epitaph which appeared upon his tomb: John Marshall,
son of Thomas and Mary Marshall, was born on the 24th of September,
1755, Intermarried with Mary Willis Ambler the 3d of January, 1783,
departed this life the -- day of --, 18--. He died the evening of July
6, 1835, surrounded by three of his sons. The death of the fourth, from
an accident while he was hurrying to his father's bedside, had been kept
from him. He left also a daughter and numerous grandchildren.
Marshall's will is dated April 9, 1832, and has five codicils of
subsequent dates attached. After certain donations to grandsons named
John and Thomas, the estate, consisting chiefly of his portion of the
Fairfax purchase, was to be divided equally among his five children. To
the daughter and her descendants were also secured one hundred shares of
stock which his wife had held in the Bank of the United States, but in
1835 these were probably of little value. His faithful body servant
Robin was to be emancipated and, if he chose, sent to Liberia, in which
event he should receive one hundred dollars. But if he preferred to
remain in the Commonwealth, he should receive but fifty dollars; and if
it turned out to "be impracticable to liberate him consistently with law
and his own inclination," he was to select his master from among the
children, "that he may always be treated as a faithful meritorious
servant."
The Chief Justice's death evoked many eloquent tributes to his public
services and private excellencies, but none more just and appreciative
than that of the officers of court and members of the bar of his own
circuit who knew him most intimately. It reads as follows:
John Marshall, late Chief Justice of the United States, having departed
this life since the last Term of the Federal Circuit Court for this
district, the Bench, Bar, and Officers of the Court, assembled at the
present Term, embrace the first opportunity to express their profound
and heartfelt respect for the memory of the venerable judge, who
presided in this Court for thirty-five years--with such remarkable
diligence in office, that, until he was disabled by the disease which
removed him from life, he was never known to be absent from the bench,
during term time, even for a day,--with such indulgence to counsel and
suitors, that every body's convenience was consulted, but his own,--with
a dignity, sustained without effort, and, apparently, without care to
sustain it, to which all men were solicitous to pay due respect,--with
such profound sagacity, such quick penetration, such acuteness,
clearness, strength, and comprehension of mind, that in his hand, the
most complicated causes were plain, the weightiest and most difficult,
easy and light,--with such striking impartiality and justice, and a
judgment so sure, as to inspire universal confidence, so that few
appeals were ever taken from his decisions, during his long
administration of justice in the Court, and those only in cases where he
himself expressed doubt,--with such modesty, that he seemed wholly
unconscious of his own gigantic powers,--with such equanimity, such
benignity of temper, such amenity of manners, that not only none of the
judges, who sat with him on the bench, but no member of the bar, no
officer of the court, no juror, no witness, no suitor, in a single
instance, ever found or imagined, in any thing said or done, or omitted
by him, the slightest cause of offence.
His private life was worthy of the exalted character he sustained in
public station. The unaffected simplicity of his manners; the spotless
purity of his morals; his social, gentle, cheerful disposition; his
habitual self-denial, and boundless generosity towards others; the
strength and constancy of his attachments; his kindness to his friends
and neighbours; his exemplary conduct in the relations of son, brother,
husband, father; his numerous charities; his benevolence towards all
men, and his ever active beneficence; these amiable qualities shone so
conspicuously in him, throughout his life, that, highly as he was
respected, he had the rare happiness to be yet more beloved.
There is no more engaging figure in American history, none more entirely
free from disfiguring idiosyncrasy, than the son of Thomas Marshall.