Great Fortunes, and How They Were Made

by James Dabney McCabe

In 1805, Judge Marshall published, in five volumes, his "Life of Washington." The first volume was devoted to the history of the Colonies, from their settlement to the commencement of the Revolution. This work has always held the first position in our Revolutionary annals, and won for its author a place in the front rank of American writers. It is, all in all, the best biography of Washington in existence.

Sterling honesty was exemplified in Judge Marshall's whole career. His word was indeed as good as his bond. He would never argue in behalf of a cause which he had reason to think unjust, and he scorned to take a legal advantage at the expense of moral honesty. He once indorsed a bond to the amount of several thousand dollars. The drawer failed, and Marshall paid it, although he knew he could avoid it, as the holder had forfeited his claim in law by requiring more than legal interest.

He was generous to a fault. Once, as he passed through Culpepper County, he met with Captain S——, one of his old comrades in the Revolution. In the course of the conversation which ensued, S—— told him that his estate was burdened with a mortgage for $3,000, which was about to fall due, and that, as he was unable to pay it, he saw nothing but ruin in store for him. At his departure, Marshall handed a note to the servant who brought his horse to the door, and told him to give it to his master. This was done as Marshall was riding away, and upon opening the note Mr. S—- found that it contained a check for the amount of the mortgage. Mounting his horse, he soon overtook Marshall, and, though he thanked him warmly for his generosity, refused to accept it. Marshall strenuously urged its acceptance, but the other persistently refused. Finally, the former suggested a compromise. Marshall took up the mortgage, and thus satisfied the first claim, but as his friend was never prosperous, he never asked for the payment of the debt.

William Wirt has left us the following description of his personal appearance: "He is tall, meager, emaciated; his muscles relaxed, and his joints so loosely connected as not only to disqualify him apparently for any vigorous exertion of body, but to destroy every thing like harmony in his air or movements. Indeed, in his whole appearance and demeanor,—dress, attitudes, gesture, sitting, standing, or walking,—he is as far removed from the idolized graces of Lord Chesterfield as any other gentleman on earth."

"In spite, however, of this ungainly person," says a writer, "no one was a greater social favorite than the Chief Justice. The people of Richmond regarded his eccentric figure with strong personal affection as well as respect. The black eyes, under their bushy gray brows, beamed with good nature, and the lips were habitually smiling. The courtesy of the Judge was one of his most beautiful traits. It was the spontaneous exhibition of the simple and kindly emotions of his heart. Pure benevolence and philanthropy displayed itself in every word which he uttered. He gave his hand to the plain yeoman clad in homespun as courteously and sincerely as to the greatest personage in the country. He had the same simple smile and good-humored jest for both, and seemed to recognize no difference between them. It was instructive to estimate in the good Chief Justice the basis and character of true politeness. John Randolph, one of the most fastidious and aristocratic of men, left his opinion that Marshall's manner was perfect good breeding. In dress and bearing, it would be difficult to imagine any one more simple than Judge Marshall. He presented the appearance of a plain countryman, rather than a Chief Justice of the United States. He had a farm in Fauquier County, and another near Richmond, and he would often return from the latter to take his seat on the bench with burrs sticking to his clothes. His great passion was the game of quoits, and he was a member of the club which met, as it still meets, at Buchanan's Spring, near the city, to play at this game. Here the Governor of Virginia, the Chief Justice, and the most eminent lawyers of the Court of Appeals, were found by a French gentleman, Baron Quinet, with their coats off, gayly pitching quoits, with the ardor of a party of urchins. In these simple amusements passed the hours of leisure which Judge Marshall could steal from his exhausting judicial toil. At such times he seemed to become a boy again, and to forget the ermine. His fondness for other social enjoyments was great. He was the center of a brilliant circle of men, many of whom were famous, and the tradition of their dinner parties, and the jests which they circulated, is still preserved."

It was his custom always to provide for his table himself when at home, and he might be seen every morning at the Shockoe Hill Market, with his basket on his arm, engaged in making his purchases. Upon one of these occasions he noticed a fashionably-dressed young man, swearing violently because he could not find any one willing to carry home for him a turkey which he had just purchased, and which his foolish pride would not permit him to carry himself. Approaching him quietly, the Judge asked where he lived, and upon being told, said, "I am going that way, and will carry it for you." Taking the turkey, he set out and soon reached the young man's door. Upon receiving his turkey, the young man thanked him for his trouble, and asked, "How much shall I pay you?" "Oh, nothing," replied the Judge, smiling, "you are welcome. It was on my way, and no trouble." So saying, the Judge departed, and the young man, with a faint suspicion of the truth, turned to a bystander, and asked, in some confusion, "Who is that polite old gentleman who brought home my turkey for me?" "That is John Marshall, the Chief Justice of the United States," was the reply. "Why, then, did he bring home my turkey?" stammered the fop. "To give you a deserved rebuke," said the gentleman, "and to teach you to conquer your silly pride."

Reference has been made to his carelessness in regard to his personal appearance. A wager was once laid among his friends in Richmond that he could not dress himself without leaving about his clothing some mark of his carelessness. The Judge good-humoredly accepted the wager. A supper was to be given to him upon these conditions. If his dress was found faultless upon that occasion, the other parties were to pay for the entertainment; but if any carelessness could be detected about his dress or in his appearance, the expense was to fall upon him. Upon the appointed evening the gentlemen and the Judge met at the place agreed upon, and to the surprise of all, the Judge's dress seemed faultless. He appeared the very perfection of neatness and taste. The supper followed, the Judge being in high glee over his victory. Near the close of the repast, however, one of the guests, who sat next to Judge Marshall, chanced to drop his napkin, and stooping down to pick it up, discovered that the Judge had put on one of his stockings with the wrong side out. Of course the condition of affairs was immediately reversed, and, amid roars of laughter, the Chief Justice acknowledged his defeat.

The means of locomotion in the Southern States being limited in the days of Judge Marshall, it was his custom to travel about the country, when holding his circuit courts, in an old-fashioned and very much dilapidated gig. His plain and even rusty appearance often led him into ludicrous adventures, which he related to his friends with keen enjoyment. At other times people to whom he was personally unknown were astonished to find that this shabbily-dressed old man was the famous Chief-Justice Marshall. One of his adventures is thus related by an eye-witness:

"It is not long since a gentleman was traveling in one of the counties of Virginia, and about the close of the day stopped at a public-house to obtain refreshment and spend the night. He had been there but a short time when an old man alighted from his gig, with the apparent intention of becoming his fellow-guest at the same house. As the old man drove up, he observed that both the shafts of his gig were broken, and that they were held together by withes formed from the bark of a hickory sapling. Our traveler observed, further, that he was plainly clad, that his knee-buckles were loosened, and that something like negligence pervaded his dress. Conceiving him to be one of the honest yeomanry of our land, the courtesies of strangers passed between them, and they entered the tavern. It was about the same time that an addition of three or four young gentlemen was made to their number—most of them, if not all, of the legal profession. As soon as they became conveniently accommodated, the conversation was turned by the latter upon an eloquent harangue which had that day been delivered at the bar. The other replied that he had witnessed the same day a degree of eloquence no doubt equal, but that it was from the pulpit. Something like a sarcastic rejoinder was made to the eloquence of the pulpit, and a warm and able altercation ensued, in which the merits of the Christian religion became the subject of discussion. From six o'clock until eleven the young champions wielded the sword of argument, adducing with ingenuity and ability every thing that could be said pro and con. During this protracted period, the old gentleman listened with all the meekness and modesty of a child, as if he was adding new information to the stores of his own mind; or perhaps he was observing, with philosophic eye, the faculties of the youthful mind, and how new energies are evolved by repeated action; or, perhaps, with patriotic emotion, he was reflecting upon the future destinies of his country, and on the rising generation upon whom these future destinies must devolve; or, most probably, with a sentiment of moral and religious feeling, he was collecting an argument which—characteristic of himself—no art would be 'able to elude and no force resist.' Our traveler remained a spectator, and took no part in what was said."