A visiter in Richmond during the Convention, being at the market one morning before sunrise, saw the Chief Justice of the United States, in the blue-mixed woollen stockings and the plain black suit (far from superfine) which he usually wore, striding along between the rows of meat and vegetables, catering for his household; and depositing his purchases in a basket, carried by a servant. But it was his frequent custom to go on this errand, unattended; and nothing was more usual, than to see him returning from market at sunrise, with poultry in one hand, and a basket of vegetables in the other. So beautifully, by a simplicity which pervaded his words, his actions, his whole life, did he illustrate the character of a republican citizen and magistrate!
No man more highly relished social, and even convivial enjoyments. He was a member of the club, which for 48 summers has met once a fortnight near Richmond, to pitch quoits and mingle in relaxing conversation: and there was not one more delightedly punctual in his attendance at these meetings, or who contributed more to their pleasantness: scarcely one, who excelled him in the manly game, from which the "Quoit-Club" drew its designation. He would hurl his iron ring of two pound's weight, with rarely erring aim, fifty-five or sixty feet; and, at some chef-d'œuvre of skill in himself or his partner, would spring up and clap his hands, with all the light-hearted enthusiasm of boyhood. Such is the old age, which follows a temperate, an innocent, and a useful life! We extract from the American Turf Register of 1829, the following entertaining account of this Club.
During a recent visit to Richmond, in Virginia, I was invited to a "Barbecue Club," held under the shade of some fine oaks, near "Buchanan's Spring," about a mile distant from the town. I there met with about thirty of the respectable inhabitants of Richmond, with a few guests. The day was a fine one, and the free and social intercourse of the members rendered it peculiarly pleasant.
This Club is probably the most ancient one of the sort in the United States, having existed upwards of forty years. It originated in a meeting, every other Saturday, from the first of May until the month of October, of some of the Scotch merchants who were early settlers in that town. They agreed each to take out some cold meats for their repast, and to provide a due quantity of drinkables, and enjoy relaxation in that way after the labors of the week. They occasionally invited some others of the inhabitants, who finding the time passed pleasantly, proposed in the year 1788 to form a regular club, consisting of thirty members, under a written constitution, limiting their expenses each day by a sort of sumptuary law which prohibited the use of wine and porter.
The Virginians, you know, have always been great limitarians as to constitutional matters. Whenever a member died or resigned, (but there have been very few resignations,) his place was filled by balloting for a new one, who could not be elected without the concurrence of two-thirds of the club. It is said that for many years no vacancy occurred, and a sort of superstitious sentiment was prevalent, that to become a member of the club, was to insure longevity. The Arch Destroyer, however, at length appeared in all his strength, and made such havoc, that only one of the original members (the venerable Chief Justice of the United States,) is now surviving.
The club consists of judges, lawyers, doctors, and merchants, and the Governor of the Commonwealth has a general invitation when he enters into office. What gave additional interest to this body, some years ago, was the constant attendance (as honorary members) of two venerable clergymen—one of the Episcopal, and the other of the Presbyterian church, who joined in the innocent pastime of the day. They were pious and exemplary men, who discerned no sin in harmless gaiety. Quoits and backgammon are the only games indulged in, and one of the clergymen was for many years "cock of the walk" in throwing the discus. They are gone to their account, and have left a chasm that has not been filled.
Some years ago, an amendment was made to the constitution, which admits the use of porter. Great opposition was made to this innovation, and the destruction of the club was predicted as the consequence. The oppositionists, however, soon became as great consumers of malt and hops as their associates, and now they even consent to the introduction of wine at the last meeting of every year, provided there be "a shot in the locker." The members each advance ten dollars to the treasurer at the beginning of the season, and every member is entitled to invite any strangers as guests, on paying into the general fund one dollar for each; while the caterers of the day, consisting of two members in rotation, preside, and have the privilege of bringing each a guest (either citizen or non-resident,) at free cost. On the day I was present, dinner was ready at half past three o'clock, and consisted of excellent meats and fish, well prepared and well served, with the vegetables of the season. Your veritable gourmand never fails to regale himself on his favorite barbecue—which is a fine fat pig, called "shoot," cooked on the coals, and highly seasoned with cayenne—a dessert of melons and fruits follows, and punch, porter and toddy are the table liquors; but with the fruits comes on the favorite beverage of the Virginians, mint julep, in place of wine. I never witnessed more festivity and good humor than prevail at this club. By the constitution, the subject of politics is forbidden, and each man strives to make the time pleasant to his companions. The members think they can offer no higher compliment to a distinguished stranger, than to introduce him to the club, and all feel it a duty to contribute to his entertainment. It was refreshing to see such a man as Chief Justice Marshall, laying aside the reserve of his dignified station, and contending with the young men at a game of quoits, with all the emulation of a youth.
Many anecdotes are told of occurrences at these meetings. Such is the partiality for the Chief Justice, that it is said the greatest anxiety is felt for his success in the game by the bystanders; and on one occasion an old Scotch gentleman was called on to decide between his quoit and that of another member, who after seemingly careful measurement, announced, "Mister Mareshall has it a leattle," when it was visible to all that the contrary was the fact. A French gentleman (Baron Quenet,) was at one time a guest, when the Governor, the Chief Justice, and several of the Judges of the High Court of Appeals, were engaged with others, with coats off, in a well-contested game. He asked, "if it was possible that the dignitaries of the land could thus intermix with private citizens," and when assured of the fact, he observed, with true Gallican enthusiasm, that "he had never before seen the real beauty of republicanism."
In Judge Marshall's yearly visits to Fauquier, where the proper implements of his favorite sport were not to be had, he still practised it among his rustic friends, with flat stones for quoits. A casual guest at a barbecue in that county—one of those rural entertainments so frequent among the country people of Virginia—soon after his arrival at the spot, saw an old man emerge from a thicket which bordered the neighboring brook, carrying as large a pile of these flat stones as he could hold between his right arm and his chin: he stepped briskly up to the company, and threw down his load among them, exclaiming, "There! Here are quoits enough for us all!" The stranger's surprise may be imagined, when he found that this plain and cheerful old man was the Chief Justice of the United States! Nor was the bonhommie, with which he could descend to the level of common life, restricted to his intercourse with men and women: he was often a pleasing companion even to children. One, whose first recollection of him referred to his triumphal entry (for such it was) into Richmond, on his return from France, and who, as a printer's boy, afterwards for several years was carrier of a newspaper to him, describes him as "remarkably fond of boys' company—always chatty—and always pleasant." The reminiscent, having been transferred to Washington in 1800, while Mr. M. was Secretary of State, says, "again did the pleasing office of serving him with the 'Washington Federalist' devolve on me. He resided in a brick building hardly larger than most of the kitchens now in use. I found him still the same plain, unostentatious John Marshall: always accessible, and always with a smile on his countenance when I handed him the 'Federalist.' His kindness of manner won my affections; and I became devotedly attached to him."
Even from this early period the reminiscent may date the commencement of an intercourse and correspondence with the Chief Justice, which endured uninterruptedly for many years, until the period of his lamented death. The unaffected and childlike simplicity of manner, action, and thought which pervaded, as the sunlight pervades the atmosphere, every moment of this truly great man's existence, and which, indeed, formed, in no little degree, the basis of his greatness, sufficed to render the intercourse of which we speak, an intercourse of the most kindly, unembarrassed, and intimate nature; and one which afforded opportunities for a more particular knowledge of the strictly private and familiar habitudes of the man, than has fallen to the lot of many who, perhaps, were better entitled to his confidence. The reminiscent would here acknowledge, not only with gratitude, but with pride, the innumerable, yet unobtrusive acts of generous assistance and advice, for which he is indebted to the friendship of Chief Justice Marshall.