cheerfully expended one hundred and forty thousand dollars out of his
own fortune, purchasing a ship to bring him to America, and raising,
equipping, arming, and clothing a regiment. And when he landed in
America, he brought with him munitions of war, which he presented to our
Army. He gave shoes, clothes, and food to our naked suffering American
soldiers.
After the War was over, some small recognition was offered him by our
Government. But while on his visit here in 1825, to show appreciation of
his unselfish aid to us in time of need, and in compensation for his
expenditures, Congress passed a bill presenting him with two hundred
thousand dollars and a grant of land.
There were, however, a few members of Congress who violently opposed the
bill, much to the shame of all grateful citizens. And one member of
Congress, humiliated at this opposition, tried to apologize delicately
to Lafayette.
“I, Sir, _am one of the opposition_!” exclaimed Lafayette. “The gift is
so munificent, so far exceeding the services of the individual, that,
had I been a member of Congress, I must have voted against it!”
And to Congress itself, Lafayette, deeply touched said:--
“The immense and unexpected gift which in addition to former and
considerable bounties, it has pleased Congress to confer upon me, calls
for the warmest acknowledgments of an old American soldier, an adopted
son of the United States--two titles dearer to my heart than all the
treasures in the world.”
SOME OF WASHINGTON’S HAIR
Cordial ties bound the land of Washington to the land of Bolivar one
hundred years ago.
Then the South American Liberator was held in such high esteem here,
that after the death of Washington his family sent Bolivar several
relics of the national hero of the United States, including locks of
Washington’s hair.
The gift was transmitted through Lafayette, who had it presented to
Bolivar by a French officer. And the latter bore back to the noble
French comrade of Washington, an eloquent letter of thanks from Bolivar.
The South American Liberator professed throughout his life ardent
admiration for the United States, and once in conversation with an
American officer in Peru, prophesied that within one hundred years, the
land of Washington would stand first in the world.
_T. R. Ybarra_
WELCOME! FRIEND OF AMERICA!
1824-25
It was twenty-five years after the death of Washington. It was 1824. In
New York City, joy bells were ringing, bands playing, cannon saluting,
flags waving, and two hundred thousand people wildly cheering.
The Marquis de Lafayette was visiting America. He was landing at the
Battery. He was no longer the slender, debonair, young French officer
who, afire with ardent courage, had served under Washington, but a man
of sixty-seven, large, massive, almost six feet tall, his rugged face
expressing a strong noble character, his fine hazel eyes beaming with
pleasure and affection. But his manner was the same courtly, gracious
one of the young man of nineteen who so long ago had exclaimed, “I will
join the Americans--I will help them fight for Freedom!”
Since the American War for Independence, Lafayette had been through the
terrible French Revolution, and had spent five years in an Austrian
prison. Now, as he landed once more on American soil, he was the
honoured and idolized guest of millions of grateful citizens of the
United States.
As he stepped from a gayly decorated boat, and stood among the throngs
of cheering New York folk, his eyes filled with tears. He had expected
only a little welcome; instead he found the whole Nation waiting
expectant and eager to do him honour.
His tour of the country in a barouche drawn by four white horses, was
one continuous procession. Enormous crowds gathered everywhere to greet
him as he went from city to city, town to town, and village to village.
He passed beneath arches of flowers and arbours of evergreens. Children
and young girls welcomed him with songs, and officials with addresses.
He was banqueted and fêted. “Lafayette! Lafayette!” was the roar that
went up from millions of throats.
At Fort McHenry, he was conducted into the tent that had been
Washington’s during the War for Independence. There, some of Lafayette’s
old comrades-in-arms, veteran members of the Society of the Cincinnati,
were awaiting him.
Lafayette embraced them with tears of joy. Then looking around the tent,
and seeing some of Washington’s equipment, he exclaimed in a subdued
voice:--
“I remember! I remember!”
Later in the day, a procession was formed, which as it passed through
the streets of Baltimore, displayed in a place of honour the crimson
silk banner of Count Pulaski, embroidered for him by the Moravian Nuns
of Bethlehem, Pennsylvania.
In Boston, Lafayette in a barouche drawn by four beautiful white horses,
was escorted by a brilliant procession through the streets. At the
Common, he passed between two lines of school-children, girls in white,
and boys in blue and white; and a lovely little girl crowned him with a
wreath of blossoms.
Across Washington Street, were thrown two arches decorated with flags,
and inscribed with the words:--
WELCOME, LAFAYETTE!
_The Fathers in glory shall sleep,
That gathered with thee to the fight,
But the Sons will eternally keep
The Tablet of Gratitude bright.
We bow not the neck, and we bend not the knee,
But our hearts, Lafayette, we surrender to thee._
And when he entered Lexington, he passed beneath an arch on which was
written in flowers:
_Welcome! Friend of America!
To the Birthplace of American Liberty._
SEPTEMBER 24
JOHN MARSHALL
THE EXPOUNDER OF THE CONSTITUTION
_I had grown up at a time ... when the maxim, “United we stand,
divided we fall,” was the maxim of every orthodox American; and I
had imbibed these sentiments so thoroughly that they constituted a
part of my being._
JOHN MARSHALL.
_He had a deep sense of moral and religious obligation, and a love
of truth, constant, enduring, unflinching. It naturally gave rise
to a sincerity of thought, purpose, expression and conduct, which,
though never severe, was always open, manly, and straightforward._
_Yet it was combined with such a gentle and bland demeanour, that
it never gave offense. But it was, on the contrary, most persuasive
in its appeals to the understanding._
_Justice_ JOSEPH STORY
JOHN MARSHALL was born in Virginia, September 24, 1755
Became an officer in a Company of Minute Men, 1775
Was Envoy to France, 1797
Was appointed Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of the United
States, 1801
He died, July 6, 1835
THE BOY OF THE FRONTIER
_In a Log Cabin_
Through the ancient and unbroken forests, toward the Monongahela River,
Braddock made his slow and painful way. Weeks passed, then months. But
the Colonists felt no impatience because everybody knew what would
happen when his scarlet columns should finally meet and throw themselves
upon the enemy.
Yet this meeting when it came, proved to be one of the lesser tragedies
of history, and had a deep and fateful effect upon American public
opinion, and upon the life and future of the American People.
Time has not dulled the vivid picture of that disaster. The golden
sunshine of that July day; the pleasant murmur of the waters of the
Monongahela; the silent and sombre forests; the steady tramp, tramp of
the British to the inspiriting music of their regimental bands, playing
the martial airs of England; the bright uniforms of the advancing
columns giving to the background of stream and forest a touch of
splendour;--and then the ambush and surprise; the war-whoops of savage
foes that could not be seen; the hail of invisible death, no pellet of
which went astray; the pathetic volleys which the doomed British troops
fired at hidden antagonists; the panic; the rout; the pursuit; the
slaughter; the crushing, humiliating defeat!
Most of the British officers were killed or wounded, as they vainly
tried to halt the stampede. Braddock himself received a mortal hurt.
Furious at what he felt was the stupidity and cowardice of the British
regulars, the youthful Washington rode among the fear-frenzied
Englishmen striving to save the day. Two horses were shot under him.
Four bullets rent his uniform. But crazed with fright, the Royal
soldiers were beyond human control.
Only the Virginia Rangers kept their heads and their courage. Obeying
the shouted orders of their young Commander, they threw themselves
between the terror-stricken British and the savage victors, and,
fighting behind trees and rocks, were an ever-moving rampart of fire
that saved the flying remnants of the English troops.
But for Washington and his Rangers, Braddock’s whole force would have
been annihilated.
So everywhere went up the cry, “The British are beaten!”
At first, rumour had it, that the whole force was destroyed, and that
Washington had been killed in action. But soon another word followed
hard upon this error--the word that the boyish Virginia Captain and his
Rangers had fought with coolness, skill, and courage; that they alone
had prevented the extinction of the British Regulars.
Thus it was that the American Colonists suddenly came to think, that
they themselves must be their own defenders. It was a revelation, all
the more impressive because it was so abrupt, unexpected, and dramatic,
that the red-coated professional soldiers were not the unconquerable
warriors, the Colonists had been told that they were. From colonial
mansion to log cabin, from the provincial capitals to the mean and
exposed frontier settlements, Braddock’s defeat sowed the seed of the
idea that Americans must depend upon themselves.
Close upon the heels of this epoch-making event, John Marshall came into
the world.
He was born in a little log cabin in what is now a part of Virginia,
eleven weeks after Braddock’s defeat. The Marshall cabin stood about a
mile and a half from a cluster of a dozen similar log structures, a
little settlement practically on the frontier.
_Off to the Blue Ridge_
Some ten years after Braddock’s defeat, we can picture a strong rude
wagon drawn by two horses, crawling along the stumpy, rock-roughened,
and mud-mired road through the dense woods that led to a valley in the
Blue Ridge Mountains.
In the wagon sat a young woman. By her side a sturdy red-cheeked boy
looked out with alert but quiet interest showing from his brilliant
black eyes. And three other children cried their delight or vexation as
the hours wore on.
The red-cheeked boy was John Marshall.
In this wagon, too, were piled the little family’s household goods. By
the side of the wagon, strode a young man dressed in the costume of the
frontier. Tall, broad-shouldered, lithe-hipped, erect, he was a very oak
of a man. His splendid head was carried with a peculiar dignity. And the
grave but kindly command that shone from his face, together with the
brooding thoughtfulness and fearless light of his striking eyes, would
have singled him out in any assemblage, as a man to be respected and
trusted.
A negro drove the team, and a negro girl walked behind. So went little
John Marshall with his father and mother, from the log cabin to their
new Blue Ridge home, which was not a log cabin, but a frame house built
of whipsawed uprights and boards.
_Making an American_
John Marshall lived near the frontier, until he was nineteen, when as
Lieutenant of the famous Culpeper Minute Men, he marched away to
battle.
And during those nineteen years he had been growing up to be _an
American_.
The earliest stories told little John Marshall must have been frontier
ones of daring and sacrifice.
Almost from the home-made cradle, he was taught the idea of American
solidarity. Braddock’s defeat was the theme of fireside talk of the
Colonists, and from this grew in time the conviction that Americans, if
united, could not only protect their homes from the savages and the
French, but could defeat, if need be, the British themselves.
So thought John Marshall’s father and mother, and so they taught their
children.
For the most part, the boy’s days were spent studying and reading, or
rifle in hand, in the surrounding mountains and by the pleasant waters
that flowed through the valley of his forest home. He helped his mother,
of course, did the innumerable chores which the day’s work required, and
looked after the younger children. He ate game from the forest and fish
from the stream. Bear meat was plentiful.
Whether at home with his mother, or on surveying trips with his father,
the boy continually was under the influence and direction of hardy,
clear-minded unusual parents.
Their lofty and simple ideals, their rational thinking, their unbending
uprightness, their religious convictions--these were the intellectual
companions of John Marshall’s childhood and youth.
_Give Me Liberty!_
Thomas Marshall, John’s father, served in the Virginia House of
Burgesses of which Patrick Henry was a member.
When Thomas Marshall returned to his Blue Ridge home, he described, of
course, the scenes he had witnessed and taken part in. The heart of his
son thrilled, we may be sure, as he listened to his father reciting
Patrick Henry’s words of fire.
And again, when Patrick Henry became the voice of America, and offered
the “Resolutions for Arming and Defense,” and carried them with that
amazing speech ending with:--
_Give me Liberty or give me Death!_
Thomas Marshall sat beneath its spell.
And John Marshall, now nineteen years old, heard those words from his
father’s lips, as the family clustered around the fireside of Oak Hill,
their Blue Ridge home.
The effect on John Marshall’s mind and spirit was heroic and profound.
_Albert J. Beveridge_ (_Arranged_)
THE YOUNG LIEUTENANT
When John Marshall was nineteen, he was about six feet high, straight,
and rather slender, and of dark complexion. His eyes were dark to
blackness, strong and penetrating, beaming with intelligence and good
nature. His raven black hair was of unusual thickness.
He was Lieutenant of a Company, and wore a purple or pale blue hunting
shirt, and trousers of the same material fringed with white. A round
black hat, with a buck-tail for a cockade, crowned his figure.
The news of the Battle of Lexington reached him, and he was soon on the
muster-field training his Company.
First, he made his men a speech, telling them that he had come to meet
them as fellow soldiers, who were likely to be called on to defend their
Country and their own rights and liberties--that there had been a battle
at Lexington in which the Americans were victorious, but that more
fighting was expected--that soldiers were called for--and that it was
time to brighten their firearms, and learn to use them in the field--and
that, if they would fall into a single line, he would show them the new
manual exercise, for which purpose he had brought his own gun.
Then before he required the men to imitate him, he went through the
manual exercise by word and motion, deliberately pronounced and
performed. He then proceeded to exercise them with the most perfect
temper. Never did man possess a temper more happy, or one more subdued
or better disciplined.
After a few lessons, he dismissed the Company, saying that if they
wished to hear more about the war, he would tell them what he understood
about it. The men formed a circle about him, and he talked to them for
about an hour.
After that he challenged an acquaintance to a game of quoits. And they
closed the day with foot-races and other athletic exercises.
_Horace Binney_ (_Retold_)
SERVING THE CAUSE
Young John Marshall became a Lieutenant in the first regiment of Minute
Men raised in Virginia. These were the citizen soldiery of the Colonies,
who “were raised in a minute; armed in a minute; marched in a minute;
fought in a minute; and vanquished in a minute.”
His father Thomas Marshall was Major of this Virginia regiment of Minute
Men. Their appearance was calculated to strike terror into the hearts
of an enemy. They were dressed in green hunting-shirts, home-spun,
home-woven, and home-made, with the words,
_Liberty or Death!_
in large white letters on their bosoms.
They wore in their hats, buck-tails, and in their belts, tomahawks and
scalping knives. Their savage, warlike appearance excited the terror of
the inhabitants as they marched through the country.
Lord Dunmore told his troops, before the action at the Great Bridge,
that if they fell into the hands of the “shirt-men,” they would be
scalped.
To the honour of the “shirt-men,” it should be observed, that they
treated the British prisoners with great kindness--a kindness which was
felt and gratefully acknowledged.
_Henry Flanders_ (_Arranged_)
AT VALLEY FORGE
Through the battles of Iron Hill, of Brandywine, of Germantown, and of
Monmouth, John Marshall bore himself bravely. And through the dreary
privations, the hunger, and the nakedness of that ghastly Winter at
Valley Forge, his patient endurance and his cheeriness bespoke the very
sweetest temper that ever man was blessed with.
So long as any lived to speak, men would tell how he was loved by the
soldiers and by his brother officers; how he was the arbiter of their
differences and the composer of their disputes. And when called to act,
as he often was, as Judge Advocate, he exercised that peculiar and
delicate judgment required of him, who is not only the prosecutor but
the protector of the accused.
It was in the duties of this office that he first met and came to know
well the two men, whom of all others on earth he most admired and loved,
and whose impress he bore through his life--Washington and Hamilton.
_William Henry Rawle_ (_Arranged_)
SILVER HEELS
Young John Marshall surpassed in athletics, any man in the Army. When
the soldiers were idle at their quarters, it was usual for the officers
to engage in a game of quoits or in jumping and racing. Then he would
throw a quoit farther, and beat at a race any other. He was the only
man, who with a running jump, could clear a stick laid on the heads of
two men as tall as himself.
On one occasion, he ran a race in his stocking feet with a comrade. His
mother, in knitting his stockings, had knit the legs of blue yarn and
the heels of white. Because of this and because he always won the races,
the soldiers called him:--
“Silver Heels.”
_J. B. Thayer_ (_Arranged_)
WITHOUT BREAD
_Told by John Marshall’s Sister_
He was then an officer in the American Army, and he came home for a
visit, accompanied by some of his brother officers, some young French
gentlemen.
When supper time arrived, Mother had the meal prepared for them, and had
made into bread a little flour, the last she had, which had been saved
for such an occasion.
The little ones cried for some, and Brother John inquired into matters.
He would eat no more of the bread, which could not be shared with us.
He was greatly distressed at the straits to which the fortunes of war
had reduced us. And Mother had not intended him to know our condition.
_From the Green Bag_
HIS MOTHER
John Marshall’s mother, Mary Isham Keith, was a woman of great force of
character and strong religious faith. She was pleasing in mind, person,
and manners. And her son loved her with that chivalrous tender devotion,
which made him gentle with all women throughout his life.
A few weeks before his death, John Marshall told his friend, Judge
Story, that he had never failed to repeat each night, through his long
life, the little prayer which begins:--
_Now I lay me down to sleep_,
that he had learned, when a baby, at his mother’s knee.
_Sallie E. Marshall Hardy_ (_Arranged_)
HIS FATHER
His father, Thomas Marshall, served with great distinction during the
War for Independence. He was a man of uncommon capacity and vigour of
intellect.
John Marshall, after he became Chief Justice, used often to speak of him
in terms of the deepest affection and reverence. Indeed, he never named
his father, without dwelling on his character with a fond and winning
enthusiasm.
“My father,” he would say with kindled feelings and emphasis, “my father
was a far abler man than any of his sons. To him I owe the solid
foundation of all my own success in life.”
_Justice Joseph Story_ (_Condensed_)
THREE STORIES
_What was in the Saddlebags_
One Autumn, John Marshall was invited to visit Mount Vernon, in company
with Washington’s nephew.
On their way to Mount Vernon, the two travellers met with a
misadventure, which gave great amusement to Washington, and of which he
enjoyed telling his friends.
They came on horseback, and carried but one pair of saddlebags, each
using one side. Arriving thoroughly drenched by rain, they were shown to
a chamber to change their garments.
One opened his side of the bags, and drew forth _a black bottle of
whiskey_. He insisted that he had opened his companion’s repository.
Unlocking the other side, they found _a big twist of tobacco, some corn
bread, and the equipment of a pack-saddle_.
They had exchanged saddlebags with some traveller, and now had to appear
in a ludicrous misfit of borrowed clothes!
_Eating Cherries_
After the war, John Marshall studied law, and began practice in Virginia
courts. He served in many important offices both of his State and of the
Nation.
Here is a little story told of him when he first began his practice. At
that time, he was very simple though neat, in his dress.
He was one morning strolling, we are told, through the streets of
Richmond, attired in a plain linen roundabout and shorts, with his hat
under his arm, from which he was eating cherries, when he stopped in the
porch of the Eagle Hotel, indulged in a little pleasantry with the
landlord, and then passed on.
A gentleman from the country was present, who had a case coming on
before the Court of Appeals, and was referred by the landlord to
Marshall as the best lawyer to employ. But “the careless languid air” of
Marshall, had so prejudiced the man that he refused to employ him.
The clerk, when this client entered the courtroom, also recommended
Marshall, but the other would have none of him.
A venerable-looking lawyer, with powdered wig and in black cloth, soon
entered, and the gentleman engaged him.
In the first case that came up, this man and Marshall spoke on opposite
sides. The gentleman listened, saw his mistake, and secured Marshall at
once, frankly telling him the whole story, and adding, that while he had
come with one hundred dollars to pay his lawyer, he had but five dollars
left.
Marshall good-naturedly took this, and helped in the case.
_Learned in the Law of Nations_
In time, John Marshall became a great lawyer. He declined the office of
District Attorney of the United States at Richmond, that of Attorney
General of the United States, and that of Minister to France, all
offered him by Washington.
When President Adams persuaded him to go as envoy to France, he wrote to
another envoy of “General Marshall,” as he was then called, from his
rank of Brigadier-General in the Virginia Militia:--
“He is a plain man, very sensible, cautious, guarded, and learned in the
Law of Nations.”
_James B. Thayer_ (_Arranged_)
THE CONSTITUTION
_As the British Constitution is the most subtile organism, which
has proceeded from progressive history; so the American
Constitution is the most wonderful work ever struck off at a given
time, by the brain and purpose of man._
WILLIAM EWART GLADSTONE
“A Constitution,” says the dictionary, is “the fundamental organic law
or principles of Government of a Nation, State, Society, or other
organized body of men.
“Also a written instrument embodying such law.”
This is not so hard to understand:--
The first statement may be applied to the English Constitution, which is
not a written Document like ours. It is, instead, a vast body of laws
and judicial decisions, which, accumulating through the centuries, and
beginning long before the time of the Magna Carta, have been handed down
from one generation to another.
On the other hand, the second statement in the dictionary, may be
applied to the Constitution of the United States, which is a Document, a
written instrument, framed and adopted for our protection by those able
and noble Patriots who met in the Federal Convention, over which George
Washington himself presided. They were wise men, learned in the Law, and
far-sighted. They planned a Government for the great future of a very
great Free People.