"The child lived two days, during which I was agonized with its condition and with the occasional hope, though the case was desperate, that I might enrapture his mother with the intelligence of his restoration to us. After the event had taken place his mother could not bear to return to the house she had left and remained with her mother a fortnight.
"I then addressed to her a letter in verse in which our mutual loss was deplored, our lost children spoken of with the parental feeling which belonged to the occasion, her affection for those which survived was appealed to, and her religious confidence in the wisdom and goodness of Providence excited. The letter closed with a pressing invitation to return to me and her children."[206]
All of Marshall's sons married, settled on various parts of the Fairfax estate, and lived as country gentlemen. Thomas was given the old homestead at Oak Hill, and there the Chief Justice built for his eldest son the large house adjacent to the old one where he himself had spent a year before joining the army under Washington.[207] To this spot Marshall went every year, visiting Thomas and his other sons who lived not far apart, seeing old friends, wandering along Goose Creek, over the mountains, and among the haunts where his first years were spent.
Here, of course, he was, in bearing and appearance, even less the head of the Nation's Judiciary than he was in Richmond or on the road to Raleigh. He was emphatically one of the people among whom he sojourned, familiar, interested, considerate, kindly and sociable to the last degree. Not one of his sons but showed more consciousness of his own importance than did John Marshall; not a planter of Fauquier, Warren, and Shenandoah Counties, no matter how poorly circumstanced, looked and acted less a Chief Justice of the United States. These characteristics, together with a peculiar generosity, made Marshall the most beloved man in Northern Virginia.
Once, when going from Richmond to Fauquier County, he overtook one of his Revolutionary comrades. As the two rode on together, talking of their war-time experiences and of their present circumstances, it came out that this now ageing friend of his youth was deeply in debt and about to lose all his possessions. There was, it appeared, a mortgage on his farm which would soon be foreclosed. After the Chief Justice had left the inn where they both had stopped for refreshments, an envelope was handed to his friend containing Marshall's check for the amount of the debt. His old comrade-in-arms quickly mounted his horse, overtook Marshall, and insisted upon returning the check. Marshall refused to take it back, and the two friends argued the matter, which was finally compromised by Marshall's agreeing to take a lien upon the land. But this he never foreclosed.[208]
This anecdote is highly characteristic of Marshall. He was infinitely kind, infinitely considerate. Bishop Meade, who knew him well, says that he "was a most conscientious man in regard to some things which others might regard as too trivial to be observed." On one of Meade's frequent journeys with Marshall between Fauquier County and the "lower country," they came to an impassable stretch of road. Other travelers had taken down a fence and gone through the adjoining plantation, and the Bishop was about to follow the same route. Marshall refused—"He said we had better go around, although each step was a plunge, adding that it was his duty, as one in office, to be very particular in regard to such things."[209]
When in Richmond the one sport in which he delighted was the pitching of quoits. Not when a lawyer was he a more enthusiastic or regular attendant of the meetings of the Quoit Club, or Barbecue Club,[210] under the trees at Buchanan's Spring on the outskirts of Richmond, than he was when at the height of his fame as Chief Justice of the United States. More personal descriptions of Marshall at these gatherings have come down to us than exist for any other phase of his life. Chester Harding, the artist, when painting Marshall's portrait during the summer of 1826, spent some time in the Virginia Capital, and attended one of the meetings of the Quoit Club. It was a warm day, and presently Marshall, then in his seventy-second year, was seen coming, his coat on his arm, fanning himself with his hat. Walking straight up to a bowl of mint julep, he poured a tumbler full of the liquid, drank it off, said, "How are you, gentlemen?" and fell to pitching quoits with immense enthusiasm. When he won, says Harding, "the woods would ring with his triumphant shout."[211]
James K. Paulding went to Richmond for the purpose of talking to the Chief Justice and observing his daily life. He was more impressed by Marshall's gayety and unrestraint at the Quoit Club than by anything else he noted. "The Chief-Justice threw off his coat," relates Paulding, "and fell to work with as much energy as he would have directed to the decision of ... the conflicting jurisdiction of the General and State Governments." During the game a dispute arose between two players "as to the quoit nearest the meg." Marshall was agreed upon as umpire. "The Judge bent down on one knee and with a straw essayed the decision of this important question, ... frequently biting off the end of the straw" for greater accuracy.[212]
The morning play over, the club dinner followed. A fat pig, roasted over a pit of coals, cold meats, melons, fruits, and vegetables, were served in the old Virginia style. The usual drinks were porter, toddy,[213] and the club punch made of "lemons, brandy, rum, madeira, poured into a bowl one-third filled with ice (no water), and sweetened."[214] In addition, champagne and other wines were sometimes provided.[215] At these meals none of the witty company equaled Marshall in fun-making; no laugh was so cheery and loud as his. Not more was John Marshall the chief of the accomplished and able men who sat with him on the Supreme Bench at Washington than, even in his advancing years, he was the leader of the convivial spirits who gathered to pitch quoits, drink julep and punch, tell stories, sing songs, make speeches, and play pranks under the trees of Richmond.
Marshall dearly loved, when at home, to indulge in the giving of big dinners to members of the bench and bar. In a wholly personal sense he was the best-liked man in Richmond. The lawyers and judges living there were particularly fond of him, and the Chief Justice thoroughly reciprocated their regard. Spencer Roane, Judge of the Virginia Court of Appeals, seems to have been the one enemy Marshall had in the whole city. Indeed, Roane and Jefferson appear to have been the only men anywhere who ever hated him personally. Even the testy George Hay reluctantly yielded to his engaging qualities. When at the head of the Virginia bar, Marshall had been one of those leading attorneys who gave the attractive dinners that were so notable and delightful a feature of life in Richmond. After he became Chief Justice, he continued this custom until his "lawyer dinners" became, among men, the principal social events of the place.