When Marshall arrived at Philadelphia, the bar of that city wished to give him a dinner, and, by way of invitation, adopted remarkable resolutions expressing their grateful praise and affectionate admiration. The afflicted Chief Justice, deeply touched, declined in a letter of singular grace and dignity: "It is impossible for me ... to do justice to the feelings with which I receive your very flattering address; ... to have performed the official duties assigned to me by my country in such a manner as to acquire the approbation of" the Philadelphia bar, "affords me the highest gratification of which I am capable, and is more than an ample reward for the labor which those duties impose." Marshall's greatest satisfaction, he says, is that he and his associates on the Supreme Bench "have never sought to enlarge the judicial power beyond its proper bounds, nor feared to carry it to the fullest extent that duty required."[1393] The members of the bar then begged the Chief Justice to receive them "in a body" at "the United States Courtroom"; and also to "permit his portrait to be taken" by "an eminent artist of this city."[1394]
With anxiety, but calmness and even good humor, Marshall awaited the operation. Just before he went to the surgeon's table, Dr. Jacob Randolph, who assisted Dr. Physick, found Marshall eating a hearty breakfast. Notwithstanding the pain he suffered, the Chief Justice laughingly explained that, since it might be the last meal he ever would enjoy, he had determined to make the most of it. He understood that the chances of surviving the operation were against him, but he was eager to take them, since he would rather die than continue to suffer the agony he had been enduring.
While the long and excruciating operation went on, by which more than a thousand calculi were removed, Marshall was placid, "scarcely uttering a murmur throughout the whole procedure." The physicians ascribed his recovery "in a great degree ... to his extraordinary self possession, and to the calm and philosophical views which he took of his case."[1395]
Marshall writes Story about his experience and the results of the treatment, saying that he must take medicine "continually to prevent new formations," and adding, with humorous melancholy, that he "must submit too to a severe and most unsociable regimen." He cautions Story to care for his own health, which Judge Peters had told him was bad. "Without your vigorous and powerful co-operation I should be in despair, and think the 'ship must be given up.'"[1396]
On learning of his improved condition, Story writes Peters from Cambridge: "This seems to me a special interposition of Providence in favor of the Constitution.... He is beloved and reverenced here beyond all measure, though not beyond his merits. Next to Washington he stands the idol of all good men."[1397]
While on this distressing visit to Philadelphia, Marshall writes his wife two letters—the last letters to her of which any originals or copies can be found. "I anticipate with a pleasure which I know you will share the time when I may sit by your side by our tranquil fire side & enjoy the happiness of your society without inflicting on you the pain of witnessing my suffering.... I am treated with the most flattering attentions in Philadelphia. They give me pain, the more pain as the necessity of declining many of them may be ascribed to a want of sensibility."[1398]
His recovery assured, Marshall again writes his wife: "I have at length risen from my bed and am able to hold a pen. The most delightful use I can make of it is to tell you that I am getting well ... from the painful disease with which I have been so long affected.... Nothing delights me so much as to hear from my friends and especially from you. How much was I gratified at the line from your own hand in Mary's letter.[1399]... I am much obliged by your offer to lend me money.[1400] I hope I shall not need it but can not as yet speak positively as my stay has been longer and my expenses greater than I had anticipated on leaving home. Should I use any part of it, you may be assured it will be replaced on my return. But this is a subject on which I know you feel no solicitude.... God bless you my dearest Polly love to all our friends. Ever your most affectionate J. Marshall."[1401]
On December 25, 1831, his "dearest Polly" died. The previous day, she hung about his neck a locket containing a wisp of her hair. For the remainder of his life he wore this memento, never parting with it night or day.[1402] Her weakness, physical and mental, which prevailed throughout practically the whole of their married life, inspired in Marshall a chivalric adoration. On the morning of the first anniversary of her death, Story chanced to go into Marshall's room and "found him in tears. He had just finished writing out for me some lines of General Burgoyne, of which he spoke to me last evening as eminently beautiful and affecting.... I saw at once that he had been shedding tears over the memory of his own wife, and he has said to me several times during the term, that the moment he relaxes from business he feels exceedingly depressed, and rarely goes through a night without weeping over his departed wife.... I think he is the most extraordinary man I ever saw, for the depth and tenderness of his feelings."[1403]
But Marshall had also written something which he did not show even to Story—a tribute to his wife:
"This day of joy and festivity to the whole Christian world is, to my sad heart, the anniversary of the keenest affliction which humanity can sustain. While all around is gladness, my mind dwells on the silent tomb, and cherishes the remembrance of the beloved object which it contains.