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DISCOURSE 
 
 UPON THE 
 
 LIFE, CHARACTER, AND SERVICES 
 
 OF 
 
 THE HONORABLE 
 
 JOHN MARSHALL, LL.D., 
 
 CHIEF JUSTICE OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, 
 
 PRONOUNCED ON THE FIFTEENTH DAY OF OCTOBER, 
 
 AT THE REQUEST OF THE 
 
 SUFFOLK BAR, 
 
 BY 
 
 JOSEPH STORY, LL.D., 
 
 AND PUBLISHED AT THEIR REQUEST. 
 
 A great and celebrated name ; a name, that keeps the name of this country respectable 
 
 in every other on the globe This light too is passed away, and set for ever. 
 
 BUEKE. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 JAMES MUNROE AND COMPANY 
 
 M Speed XXXV. 
 
 [S^gd 
 
£1-50 2. 
 
 Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1835, 
 
 By James Munroe & Co., 
 
 in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE PRESS: 
 AIETCALF, TORRY, AND BALLOU. 
 
ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 The narrative of facts and some of the reflections 
 in this Discourse are taken from a biographical sketch, 
 written by me some years ago for the North Ameri- 
 can Review. As those facts were derived from the 
 most authentic sources, and as the reflections con- 
 nected with them naturally grew out of the subject, 
 I have not hesitated to adopt them, whenever 
 they were appropriate to my present purpose. It 
 would have been mere afiectation to have attempted 
 to avoid the same train of narrative or remark. This 
 explanation is necessary to be made, lest I should be 
 supposed to have appropriated without acknowledg- 
 ment the labors of another person. 
 
 Cambridge, Oct. 16, 1835. 
 
DISCOURSE. 
 
 The funeral obsequies have been performed ; the 
 Ion* procession has passed by ; and the earth has 
 closed over the mortal remains of Chief Justice Mar- 
 shall. Time has assuaged the first agonies of grief of 
 the immediate relatives, who were called to mourn 
 over so afflictive a loss ; and others, who, looking to 
 the claims of private friendship or to the public inter- 
 ests, were astounded at a blow, which, though not 
 unexpected, came at last with a startling force, have 
 had leisure to recover from their perturbation, and 
 may now contemplate the event with a calm though 
 profound melancholy. 
 
 It is under these circumstances, that we are now 
 assembled together, to devote a brief space of time to 
 the consideration of his life, character, and services ; 
 and then to return again to the affairs of the world, 
 edified, as I may hope, by what ♦he was, and warmed 
 and elevated by a nearer approach to excellencies, 
 which, if we may not reach, we may yet gaze on with 
 devout respect and reverence. I am not insensible of 
 the difficulties of the task of worthily discharging the 
 duties of the present occasion. I am but too conscious, 
 how much more successfully it would have been accom- 
 plished in other hands ; and how little is my own 
 ability to do justice, even to my own feelings, in 
 
^6 
 
 attempting a sketch of such a man. I have not, how- 
 ever, felt at liberty to decline the part, which has 
 been assigned to me in the commemorations of this 
 day, lest I should be thought wanting in readiness to do 
 homage to one, who was the highest boast and orna- 
 ment of the profession. There is this consolation, 
 nevertheless, in undertaking the task, that it requires 
 no labored vindication of motives or actions. His life 
 speaks its own best eulogy. It had such a simplicity, 
 purity, consistency, and harmony, that the narrati^ of 
 the events, in their natural order, invests it with an 
 attraction, which art need not seek to heighten, and 
 friendship may well be content to leave with its origi- 
 nal coloring. 
 
 Of the great men, who have appeared in the world, 
 many have been distinguished by the splendor of their 
 birth or station ; many by the boldness or variety 
 of their achievements ; and many by peculiarities of 
 genius or conduct, which, from the extraordinary con- 
 trasts presented by them, have awakened the curiosity, 
 or gratiiied the love of novelty, of the giddy multitude. 
 I know not, how it has happened, but so, I fear, the 
 fact will be found to be, that high moral qualities are 
 rarely the passport to extensive popular favor or 
 renown. Nay ; a calm and steady virtue, which acts 
 temperately and wisely, and never plunges into indis- 
 cretion or extravagance, is but too often confounded 
 with dullness or frigidity of temperament. It seems 
 as if it were deemed the prerogative, if not the attribute, 
 of genius, to indulge itself in eccentricities, and to pass 
 from one extreme to another, leaving behind it the 
 dark impressions of its vices or its follies. The deeper 
 movements of the soul, in the inmost workings of its 
 thoughts, are supposed to display themselves, like 
 
volcanoes in the natural world, by occasional explo- 
 sions, which awe, but at the same time excite, the 
 crowd of eager spectators. They are struck with 
 admiration of what they do not comprehend ; and mis- 
 take their own emotions for the presence of superior 
 power. They are bewildered by the shifting exhibi- 
 tion, alternately of brilliant deeds, and debasing pas- 
 sions, of intellectual efforts of transcendent energy, 
 and paradoxes of overwrought ingenuity ; and being 
 unable to fathom the motives or sources of anomalies, 
 they confound extravagance with enterprise, and the 
 dreams of wild ambition with lofty and well considered 
 designs. 
 
 And yet, if there is any thing taught us, either by 
 the precepts of Christianity, or the history of our 
 race, it is, that true greatness is inseparable from 
 sound morals ; that the highest wisdom is but another 
 name for the highest talents ; that the genius, which 
 burns with a pure and regulated flame, throws far and 
 wide its beneficent light, to guide and cheer us ; 
 while occasional cc^ruscations serve only to perplex 
 and betray us, or (to borrow the language of poetry) 
 serve but to make the surrounding darkness morer 
 visible. The calm and patient researches of Newton 
 and Locke have conferred far more lasting benefits on 
 mankind, than all the achievements of all the mere 
 heroes and conquerors of ancient or modern times. 
 One patriot, like Epaminondas, Scipio, or Washington, 
 outweighs a host of Alexanders, Caesars, and Napo- 
 leons. The fame of Justinian, as a fortunate possessor 
 of the imperial purple, would have long since faded 
 into an almost evanescent point in history, if his 
 memorable Codes of Jurisprudence had not secured 
 him an enviable immortality, by the instruction, which 
 
they have imparted to the legislation of all succeeding 
 times. He, who has been enabled by the force of his 
 talents, and the example of his virtues, to identify 
 his own character with the solid interests and happi- 
 ness of his country ; he, who has lived long enough 
 to stamp the impressions of his own mind upon the 
 age, and has left on record lessons of wisdom for the 
 study and improvement of all posterity ; he, I say, 
 has attained all, that a truly good man aims at, and all, 
 that a truly great man should aspire to. He has 
 erected a monument to his memory in the hearts of 
 men. Their gratitude will perpetually, though it may 
 be silently, breathe forth his praises ; and the volun- 
 tary homage paid to his name will speak a language, 
 more intelligible and more universal than any epitaph 
 inscribed on Parian marble, or any image wrought out 
 by the cunning hands of sculpture. 
 
 Reflections, like these, naturally crowd upon the' 
 mind upon the death of every great man ; but espe- 
 cially of every one, who may be justly deemed a 
 benefactor and ornament of his ^ace. In the present 
 case, there is little occasion to point out the manner 
 "or the measure of their application. 
 
 John Marshall was born on the 24th day of 
 September, 1755, (a little more than eighty years 
 ago,) in the county of Fauquier, in the State of Vir- 
 ginia. His father was Thomas Marshall, a native of 
 the same State, and at the time of his birth, a planter 
 of narrow fortune and retired habits. Of this gen- 
 tleman, who afterwards served with great distinction 
 during the revolutionary war, having been appointed 
 to the command of one of the Continental Regiments 
 of Infantry, it is proper to say a few words in this 
 place. He was a man of uncommon capacity and 
 
9 
 
 vigor of intellect ; and though his original education 
 was very imperfect, he overcame this disadvantage by 
 the diligence and perseverance, with which he culti- 
 vated his natural endowments ; so that he soon 
 acquired, and maintained throughout the course of his 
 life, among associates of no mean character, the repu- 
 tation of masculine sense, and extraordinary judgment 
 and ability. No better proof, indeed, need be ad- 
 duced to justify this opinion than the fact, that he 
 possessed the unbounded confidence, respect, and admi- 
 ration of all his children at that mature period of their 
 lives, when they were fully able to appreciate his 
 worth, and to compare and measure him with other 
 men of known eminence. I have myself often heard 
 the Chief Justice speak of him in terms of the deepest 
 affection and reverence. I do not here refer to his 
 public remarks ; but to his private and familiar con- 
 versations with me, when there was no other listener. 
 Indeed, he never named his father on these occasions, 
 without dwelling on his character with a fond and win- 
 ning enthusiasm. It was a theme, on which he broke 
 out with a spontaneous eloquence ; and, in the spirit 
 of the most persuasive confidence, he would delight to 
 expatiate upon his virtues and talents. — "My father," 
 (would he 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 suc- 
 cess in life." Such praise from such lips is inexpres- 
 sibly precious. I know not, whether it be most hon- 
 orable to the parent, or to the child. It warms, while it 
 elevates our admiration of both. What, indeed, can 
 be more affecting than such a tribute of filial gratitude 
 to the memory of a parent, long after death has set 
 its seal upon his character, and at such a distance of 
 2 
 
#^10 
 
 time, as leaves no temptation to pious sorrow to exag- 
 gerate what he was, or to excite the imagination to 
 paint what he might have been. 
 
 Colonel Marshall had fifteen children, several of 
 whom are still living. Some of them, besides the one 
 of whom I am mainly to speak, have attained high 
 distinction as scholars and statesmen ; and one, whom 
 I do not feel privileged to name, enjoys the reputation 
 of a thorough acquaintance with that most difficult of 
 all studies, the Philosophy of History. 
 
 John was the eldest son, and of course was the ear- 
 liest to engage the solicitude of his father. The means 
 of obtaining any suitable education at the family resi- 
 dence were at that period scanty and inadequate. 
 Fauquier was then a frontier county of the State ; and 
 whoever will carry back his thoughts to the dangers 
 and difficulties of such a local position, far in advance 
 of the ordinary reach of compact population, will 
 readily comprehend the embarrassments and sacrifices, 
 with which it was attended. Colonel Marshall was 
 thus compelled exclusively to superintend the education 
 of all his children ; and perceiving the rapid develop- 
 ment of the talents of his eldest son, he gave him a 
 decided taste for the study of English literature, and 
 especially for poetry and history. At the age of 
 twelve, the latter had transcribed the whole of Pope's 
 Essay on Man, and some of his moral essays ; and had 
 committed to memory many of the most interesting 
 passages of that distinguished poet. 
 
 The love of poetry, thus awakened in his warm and 
 vigorous mind, soon exerted a commanding influ- 
 ence over it. He became enamoured of the clas- 
 sical writers of the old English school, of Milton, and 
 Shakspeare, and Dryden, and Pope; and was instructed 
 
11 
 
 by their solid sense and beautiful imagery. In the 
 enthusiasm of youth, he often indulged himself in 
 poetical compositions, and freely gave up his leisure 
 hours to those delicious dreamings with the muses, 
 which (say, what we may) constitute with many the 
 purest source of pleasure in the gayer scenes of life, 
 and the sweetest consolation in the hours of adversity. 
 It has, indeed, been said by Sir James Mackintosh, that 
 all men of genius delight to take refuge in poetry, from 
 the vulgarity and irritation of business. Without yield- 
 ing to so general and sweeping a conclusion, it may be 
 truly said, that it is not uncongenial with the highest 
 attributes of genius, and is often found an accompani- 
 ment of its nicer sympathies. 
 
 One of the best recommendations, indeed, of the 
 early cultivation of a taste for poetry, and the kindred 
 branches of literature, is, that it does not expire with 
 youth. It affords to maturer years a refreshing relax- 
 ation from the severe cares of business, and to old age 
 a quiet and welcome employment, always within reach, 
 and always bringing with it, if not the charm of nov- 
 elty, at least the soothing reminiscences of other days. 
 The votary of the muses may not always tread upon 
 enchanted ground ; but the gentle influences of fiction 
 and song will steal over his thoughts, and breathe, as 
 it were, into his soul the fragrance of a second spring 
 of life. 
 
 Throughout the whole of his life, and down to its 
 very close, Mr. Marshall continued to cultivate a taste 
 for general literature, and especially for those depart- 
 ments of it, which had been the favorite studies of his 
 youth. He was familiar with all its light, as well as 
 its more recondite, productions. He read with intense 
 interest, as his leisure would allow, all the higher lite- 
 
^12 
 
 rature of modern times ; and, especially, the works of 
 the great masters of the art were his constant delight. 
 While the common publications of the day fell from 
 his hands with a cold indifference, he kindled with 
 enthusiasm at the names of the great novelists and 
 poets of the age, and discussed their relative powers 
 and merits, with a nice and discriminating skill, as if 
 he were but yesterday fresh from the perusal of them. 
 To many persons it may seem strange, that such a 
 love of letters, and especially of works of imagination, 
 should ever be found combined with the severe logic 
 and closeness of thought, which belonged to his char- 
 acter, and gave such a grave cast to all his juridical 
 labors. But the truth is, that the union is far less 
 uncommon in the highest class of minds, than slight 
 observers are apt to suppose. There is not only no 
 incompatibility in pursuits of such opposite tendencies ; 
 but men of genius, more than any other persons, from 
 their lively sensibility to excellence, are prone to have 
 their curiosity awakened by any exhibition of it, in 
 whatever department of knowledge or art it may be 
 displayed. They feel the presence of superior power ; 
 they are touched by the sublime reaches of kindred 
 spirits ; they gaze on the wonders of that workman- 
 ship, whose exquisite proportions they understand, and 
 whose difficulties of execution they appreciate. They 
 see the glory of that eminence, which is so proudly 
 won, and so bravely maintained. But they can also 
 measure, what few other persons can, what vast re- 
 sources and uncounted labors have been exhausted in 
 the attainment. Thus, their sympathies are excited by 
 every triumph of the human intellect ; and the very 
 contrast of their own favorite studies and pursuits with 
 those of others opens upon them new sources of pleas- 
 
13 
 
 ure, in surveying the variety, as well as the magnifi- 
 cence, of human genius. But to return to my narra- 
 tive. 
 
 There being no grammar school in the neighbour- 
 hood, young Marshall, at the age of fourteen, was sent 
 for his education about a hundred miles from his home, 
 and was placed under the tuition of Mr. Campbell, a 
 clergyman of great respectability. He remained with 
 him a year, and then returned home, and was placed 
 under the care of a Scotch gentleman, who was just 
 then inducted as pastor of the parish, and resided in 
 his father's family. He pursued his classical studies 
 under the care of this reverend pastor, as long as he 
 resided in the family, which was about a year ; and he 
 had at that time commenced the reading of Livy and 
 Horace. After this period, he was left to his own 
 unassisted diligence ; and his subsequent mastery of 
 the Classics was accomplished without any other aids 
 than his Grammar and Dictionary. He never had the 
 benefit of any instruction in any college, or other pub- 
 lic institution ; and his attainments in learning, such 
 as they were, were nourished by the solitary vigils of 
 his own genius. In English literature, he continued to 
 receive the fostering care and assistance of his father, 
 who directed his studies, and contributed, in an eminent 
 degree, to cherish his love of knowledge ; to give a 
 solid cast to his acquirements ; and to store his mind 
 with the most valuable materials. It is to this circum- 
 stance, that we are mainly to attribute that decided 
 attachment to the writers of the golden age of English 
 literature, which at all times he avowed, and vindi- 
 cated with a glowing confidence in its importance, and 
 its superior excellence. His father, too, at this period, 
 was not only a watchful parent, but a most useful and 
 
^ 14 
 
 affectionate friend ; and he became the constant, as 
 he was also almost the only intelligent, companion of 
 his son. The time, which was not thus passed in the 
 society of his father, he employed in hardy, athletic 
 exercises in the open air. He engaged in field sports ; 
 he wandered in the deep woods ; he indulged his soli- 
 tary meditations amidst the wilder scenery of nature ; 
 he delighted to brush away the earliest dews of the 
 morning, and to watch the varied magnificence of sun- 
 set, until its last beams ceased to play on the dark 
 tops of the noiseless forest. It was to these early 
 habits in a mountainous region, that he probably owed 
 that robust and vigorous constitution, which carried 
 him almost to the close of his life with the freshness 
 and firmness of manhood. 
 
 It was about the time, when young Marshall entered 
 on the eighteenth year of his age, that the controversy 
 between Great Britain and her American Colonies, 
 which ended in the establishment of the independence 
 of the latter, began to assume a portentous aspect. It 
 could not fail to engage the attention of all the Colo- 
 nists, whether they were young, or old, in the retire- 
 ment of private life, or in the exercise of public politi- 
 cal functions. It was a stirring theme of conversation, 
 involving interests of such vast magnitude, and conse- 
 quences of such enduring influence, that every patriot 
 felt himself called upon by a sense of duty to rouse 
 himself for the approaching exigency. Young Marshall 
 could not be indifferent to it. He entered into the con- 
 troversy with all the zeal and enthusiasm of a youth, 
 full of the love of his country, and deeply sensible of 
 its rights and its wrongs. Partaking of the spirit and 
 energy of his father, he immediately devoted his time, 
 with a prophetic foresight, to the acquisition of the 
 
15 
 
 rudiments of military manoeuvres in an independent 
 company of volunteers, composed of gentlemen of the 
 same county, to the training of a company of the militia 
 of the neighbourhood, and to the diligent reading of the 
 political essays of the day. For these animating pur- 
 suits he was quite content to relinquish all his literary 
 studies ; and the pages of Blackstone's Commentaries, 
 to which he had already begun to direct his ambition, 
 were forgotten amidst the din of arms, and the prepa- 
 rations for open hostilities. 
 
 In the summer of 1775 he was appointed the first 
 lieutenant of a company of minute men, who were en- 
 rolled for active service, and assembled in battalion at 
 the beginning of the ensuing September. In a few days 
 they were ordered to march into the lower country, 
 for the purpose of defending it against a small preda- 
 tory force of Regulars commanded by Lord Dunmore, 
 and also of assisting in the relief of Norfolk, with some 
 other provincial troops. Hearing of their approach, 
 Lord Dunmore took an advantageous position on the 
 north side of Elizabeth, near the great bridge, and at 
 a small distance from Norfolk. A battle soon after- 
 wards took place between the opposing bodies, in 
 which the British were repulsed with great gallantry. 
 On this occasion Lieutenant Marshall took an active 
 part, and had a full share of the honors of the day. 
 The Provincials, immediately after the retreat of the 
 British, made their way to Norfolk ; and Lieutenant 
 Marshall was present, when that city was set on fire 
 by a detachment from the British ships, then lying in 
 the river. 
 
 In July, 1776, he received the appointment of first 
 lieutenant in the eleventh regiment on the Continen- 
 tal establishment ; and in the succeeding winter he 
 
^ 10 
 
 marched with his regiment to the Middle States, then 
 the scene of an harassing warfare ; and in May, 1777, 
 he was promoted to the rank of captain. From this 
 period he remained constantly in service until the close 
 of the year 1779. He was present at the skirmish with 
 the British light infantry at Iron Hill ; and he fought 
 in the memorable battles of Brandywine, Germantown, 
 and Monmouth. During this period of his military 
 life, he was often employed to act as Deputy Judge 
 Advocate, a situation, which brought him to a large 
 acquaintance wnth the officers of the army, by whom he 
 was greatly beloved, and among whom he deservedly 
 acquired an extensive influence. I myself have often 
 heard him spoken of by some of these veterans in terms 
 of the warmest praise. In an especial manner the 
 Revolutionary officers of the Virginia Line (now "few 
 and faint, but fearless still ") appeared almost to 
 idolize him, as an old friend and companion in, arms, 
 enjoying their unqualified confidence. 
 
 It was during his performance of the duties of Judge 
 Advocate, that he for the first time (I believe) became 
 personally acquainted with General Washington, and 
 (I am sure) with Colonel (afterwards General) Hamil- 
 ton ; for both of whom, it needs scarcely to be said, he 
 always entertained the deepest respect, and whose un- 
 reserved friendship, at a subsequent period of his life, 
 he familiarly enjoyed. His opinion of Washington is 
 sufficiently manifested in his biography of that great 
 man. Of Hamilton he always spoke in the most un- 
 reserved manner, as a soldier and statesman of con- 
 summate ability ; and in point of comprehensiveness of 
 mind, purity of patriotism, and soundness of principles, 
 as among the first, that had ever graced the councils 
 of any nation. His services to the American Republic 
 
17 
 
 he deemed to have been of inestimable value, and such 
 as had eminently conduced to its stability, its prosper- 
 ity, and its true glory. 
 
 There being in the winter of 1779, a great surplus 
 of officers belonging to the Virginia Line, beyond the 
 immediate exigencies of the service, the supernumera- 
 ries, among whom was Captain Marshall, were directed 
 to return home, in order to take charge of such men, 
 as the State Legislature might raise for their command. 
 It was in this interval of military inactivity, that he avail- 
 ed himself of the opportunity of attending at William and 
 Mary's College the course of law lectures of Mr. (af- 
 terwards Chancellor) Wythe, and the lectures upon nat- 
 ural philosophy of the then president of the college, Mr. 
 (afterwards Bishop) Madison. He left that institution 
 in the summer vacation of 1780 ; and soon afterwards 
 received the usual license to practice law. In October 
 of the same year he returned to the army, and contin- 
 ued in active service until after the termination of Ar- 
 nold's invasion of Virginia. Finding, that the same 
 redundancy of officers in the Virginia Line still contin- 
 ued, he then resigned his commission, and addicted 
 himself to the study of his future profession. The 
 Courts of law were suspended in Virginia until after the 
 capture of Lord Cornwallis and his army at the mem- 
 orable siege at Yorktown. As soon as they were re- 
 opened, Mr. Marshall commenced the practice of the 
 law, and soon rose into high distinction at the bar. 
 
 In the spring of 1782, he was elected a member of 
 the State Legislature ; and, in the autumn of the same 
 year, a member of the State Executive Council. In 
 January, 1783, he married Miss Ambler, the daughter 
 of the then Treasurer of the State, to whom he had be- 
 come attached, before he quitted the army. With this 
 3 
 
^ 18 
 
 lady he lived in a state of the most devoted conjugal 
 affection for nearly fifty years ; and her death, not quite 
 three years ago, cast a gloom over his thoughts, from 
 which I do not think he ever fully recovered. About 
 the time of his marriage, he took up his permanent resi- 
 dence in the city of Richmond. In the spring of 1784, 
 he resigned his seat at the council board, in order to 
 devote himself more exclusively to the duties of the 
 bar. He was immediately aft.erwards elected a mem- 
 ber of the Legislature by the County of Fauquier, a 
 tribute of respect from the spot of his nativity the more 
 marked, because he had already ceased to have any 
 thing but a nominal residence there. In 1787, he was 
 elected a member of the Legislature by -the County of 
 Henrico ; and he soon embarked in all the perplexing 
 political questions, which then agitated the state. 
 
 It is to this period, — between the close of the war of 
 the Revolution, and the adoption of the present constitu- 
 tion of the United States, — that we are to refer the 
 gradual development, and final establishment of those 
 political opinions and principles, which constituted the 
 basis of all the public actions of his subsequent life. 
 He had entered the army with all the enthusiasm of a 
 young man, ardent in the cause of liberty, devoted to 
 his country, glowing with confidence in the wisdom and 
 virtue of the people, and unsuspicious, that they could 
 ever be seduced or betrayed into any conduct, not war- 
 ranted by the purest public principles. He knew the 
 disinterestedness of his own heart ; and he could not 
 believe, nay he could not even imagine, that it was pos- 
 sible, that a Republic, founded for the common good, 
 should not, at all times and under all circumstances, be 
 exclusively administered for this single purpose. The 
 very suggestion of any doubt upon the subject led him 
 
19 
 
 to distrust, not his own judgment, but the intelligence 
 or integrity of those, who ventured to breathe that 
 doubt, even in the softest whispers. He had never 
 heard of the profound remark of a great statesman, 
 that a young man, who was not an enthusiast in mat- 
 ters of government, must possess low and grovelling 
 principles of action ; but that an old man, who was an 
 enthusiast, must have lived to little purpose. He could 
 have learned nothing worth remembering ; or remem- 
 bered only what was fit to be forgotten. Like the 
 Shepherd in Virgil, in the simplicity of his heart he 
 thought, that all things were at Rome, as they were at 
 Mantua; — Sic parvis componere magna solebat. 
 Amidst the din of arms, he found no leisure to study the 
 science of government. He deemed it useless to con- 
 sider, how Liberty was to be enjoyed and protected, 
 until it was won. The contest for national existence 
 was then instant and pressing. The only lights, which 
 were on the paths of the patriot, to guide or instruct 
 him, were those, which glanced from the point of his 
 sword. The midnight hours were to be passed, not in 
 the soft serenities of meditation, but in mounting guard 
 on the outposts ; in stealthy patroles along the lines of 
 the -enemy ; or in repelling the deadly attack in the 
 midst of the flashes and the roar of well directed 
 musketry and cannon. 
 
 "When I recollect" (said he, in a letter written long 
 afterwards to a friend,) " the wild and enthusiastic 
 notions, with which my political opinions of that day 
 were tinctured, I am disposed to ascribe my devotion 
 to the Union, and to a government competent to its 
 preservation, at least as much to casual circumstances, 
 as to judgment. I had grown up at a time, when the 
 love of the Union, and the resistance to the claims of 
 
^ 20 
 
 Great Britain, were the inseparable inmates of the 
 same bosom ; when patriotism and a strong fellow 
 feeling with our suffering fellow citizens of Boston 
 were identical ; when the maxim, ' United we 
 stand ; divided we fall,' was the maxim of every ortho- 
 dox American. And I had imbibed these sentiments 
 so thoroughly, that they constituted a part of my 
 being. I carried them with me into the army, where 
 I found myself associated with brave men from different 
 States, who were risking life and every thing valuable, 
 in a common cause, believed by all to be most precious ; 
 and where I was confirmed in the habit of considering 
 America as my country, and Congress as my govern- 
 ment." 
 
 But the times were now arrived, in which the dreams 
 of his early manhood were to be rigidly compared with 
 the sober realities about him. The revolution, with its 
 strong excitements, and its agitations of alternate hopes 
 and fears, had passed away. The national Indepen- 
 dence had been achieved ; and the feverish and rest- 
 less activity of the past had given place to a state of 
 languor and exhaustion, which made the advent of 
 peace itself a period of renewed anxieties, and heavier 
 cares. What had been gained by the sword was now 
 to be secured by civil wisdom ; by the establishment of 
 Avholesome laws, sound institutions, and well regulated 
 government. And deeply and painfully did every 
 lover of his country then feel the truth of the remark 
 of Milton, — "Peace hath her victories, no less re- 
 nowned than War." 
 
 Whoever is well read in our domestic history, cannot 
 have forgotten the dangers and difficulties of those 
 days. The close of the war of the Revolution found the 
 whole country impoverished and exhausted by the 
 
21 
 
 necessary expenditures of the contest. Some of the 
 States had made enormous sacrifices to provide their 
 own just contributions for the public service ; and most 
 of them had been compelled to resort to the ruinous 
 expedient of a paper currency, to supply their own 
 immediate wants. The national finances were at the 
 lowest ebb of depression. The Continental Congress 
 had issued more than three hundred millions of paper 
 money, purporting on its face to contain a solemn 
 pledge of the faith of the Union for its due redemp- 
 tion, which pledge had been as notoriously violated. 
 And, indeed, this paper money had sunk to the value 
 of one dollar only for one hundred ; and at last had 
 ceased in fact to circulate at all as currency. The 
 national debt was not only not discharged ; but was 
 without any means of being discharged, even as to the 
 interest due upon it. The army had been disbanded 
 with long arrearages of pay outstanding ; and the dis- 
 contents of those noble bands, which had saved the 
 country, were listened to, only to be disregarded. 
 The very magnitude of the public evils almost dis- 
 couraged every effort to redress them. The usual 
 consequences of such a state of things had been fully 
 realized. Private, as well as public, credit was de- 
 stroyed. Agriculture and commerce were crippled ; 
 manufactures could not, in any strict sense, be said to 
 have an existence. They were in a state of profound 
 lethargy. The little money, which yet remained in 
 specie in the country, was subject to a perpetual drain, 
 to purchase the ordinary supplies from foreign coun- 
 tries. The whole industry of the country was at a 
 stand. Our artisans were starving in the streets, with- 
 out the means, or the habits of regular employment ; 
 and the disbanded officers of the army found them- 
 
^ 22 
 
 selves, not only without resources, but without occupa- 
 tion. Under such circumstances, the popular murmurs 
 were not only loud, but deep ; and the general dis- 
 tress became so appalling, that it threatened a ship- 
 wreck of all our free institutions. In short, w^e seem- 
 ed to have escaped from the dominion of the parent 
 country, only to sink into a more galling domestic 
 bondage. Our very safety was felt to be mainly de- 
 pendent upon the jealousy, or forbearance of foreign 
 governments. 
 
 What aggravated all these evils was the utter hope- 
 lessness of any effectual remedy under the existing 
 form of the national government ; if, indeed, that 
 might be said to deserve the name, which was but the 
 shadow of a government. The union of the States at 
 the commencement of the revolutionary contest was 
 forced upon us by circumstances ; and from its nature 
 and objects seemed limited to that precise exigency. 
 The Confederation, which was subsequently framed, 
 was conceived in a spirit of extreme jealousy of na- 
 tional sovereignty, and withal was so feeble and loose 
 in its texture, that reflecting minds foresaw, that it 
 could scarcely survive the revolutionary contest. Yet 
 feeble and loose as was its texture, it encountered the 
 most obstinate opposition at every step of its pro- 
 gress ; and it was not finally adopted, until the war 
 was about to close, in 1781. The powers of Congress, 
 under the Confederation, were, for the most part, 
 merely recommendatory, and to be carried into effect 
 only through the instrumentality of the States. It 
 conferred no power to raise revenue, or levy taxes, 
 or enforce obedience to laws, or regulate commerce, 
 or even to command means to pay our public minis- 
 ters at foreign courts. Congress could make con- 
 
23 
 
 tracts ; but could not provide means to discharge 
 them. They could pledge the public faith ; but they 
 could not redeem it. They could make public treaties ; 
 but every State in the Union might disregard them 
 with impunity. They could enter into alliances ; but 
 they could not command men or money to give them 
 vigor. They could declare war ; but they could not 
 raise troops ; and their only resort was to requisitions 
 on the States. In short, all the powers given by the 
 Confederation, which did not execute themselves with- 
 out any external aid, were at the mere mercy of the 
 States, and might be trampled upon at pleasure. 
 Even that miserable fragment of sovereignty, the pow- 
 er to levy a tax of five per cent, on imports, in order to 
 pay the public debt, and until it was paid, was sol- 
 emnly rejected by the States, though asked by Con- 
 gress in terms of humble intreaty, and the most affect- 
 ing appeals to public justice. 
 
 The result was obvious. Without the power to lay 
 taxes, Congress were palsied in all their operations. 
 Without the power to regulate commerce, we were left 
 to the capricious legislation of every State. Nay more ; 
 our trade was regulated, taxed, monopolized, and 
 crippled at the pleasure of the maritime powers of 
 Europe. Every State managed its own concerns in its 
 own way ; and systems of retaliation for real or im- 
 aginary grievances were perpetually devised and en- 
 forced against neighbouring States. So that, instead 
 of being a band of brothers, united in common cause, 
 and guided by a common interest, the States were 
 every where secret or open enemies of each other ; 
 and we were on the verge of a border warfare of 
 interminable irritation, and of as interminable mis- 
 chiefs. 
 
^24. 
 
 Such was the state of things in the times, of which 
 I have been speaking ; and, strong as the coloring 
 may seem to those, whose birth is of a hiter date, it 
 falls far short of a full picture of the actual extent of 
 the evils, which the details of the facts would justify. 
 
 It was under these circumstances, that the State 
 Legislatures were constantly called upon by public 
 clamor, and private sufferings, to interpose summary 
 remedies to ward off the hardships of the times. The 
 people, loaded with debts, and goaded on almost to 
 madness by the thickening calamities, demanded 
 measures of relief of the most extravagant nature. 
 The relations of debtor and creditor, always deli- 
 catCy became every day more embarrassed and more 
 embarrassing. Laws suspending the collection of 
 debts ; insolvent laws ; instalment laws ; tender 
 laws ; and other expedients of a like nature, which, 
 every reflecting man knew would only aggravate the 
 evils, were familiarly adopted, or openly and boldly 
 vindicated. Popular leaders, as well as men of des- 
 perate fortunes, availed themselves (as is usual on 
 such occasions) of this agitating state of things to 
 inflame the public mind, and to bring into public 
 odium those wiser statesmen, who labored to support 
 the public faith, and to preserve the inviolability of 
 private contracts. 
 
 The whole country soon became divided into two 
 great parties, one of which endeavoured to put an end 
 to the public evils by the establishment of an efficient 
 national government ; the other adhered to the State 
 sovereignties, and was determined, at all hazards, to 
 resist the increase of the national power. Virginia 
 bore her full share in these political controversies. 
 They were constantly debated in the halls of her 
 
25 
 
 Legislature ; and, whatever might be the fate of any 
 particular debate, the contest was perpetually renew- 
 ed ; for every victory was but a temporary and ques- 
 tionable triumph ; and every defeat left still enough 
 of hope to excite the vanquished to new exertions. 
 At this distance of time it is scarcely possible to con- 
 ceive the zeal, and even the animosity, with which the 
 opposing opinions were maintained. The question, 
 whether the Union ought to be continued, or dissolved 
 by a total separation of the States, was freely discussed ; 
 and either side of it was maintained, not only without 
 reproach, but with an uncompromising fearlessness of 
 consequences. Those, who clung to the supremacy of 
 the States, looked without dismay upon a dissolution of 
 the Union ; and felt no compunctions in surrendering it. 
 Those, on the other hand, who deemed the Union the 
 ark of our political safety, without which independence 
 was but a name, shrunk with horror from the thought 
 of its dissolution ; and maintained the struggle with a 
 desperate valor, as the death grapple for constitutional 
 liberty. 
 
 It was in such times and under such circumstances, 
 that Mr. Marshall, while yet under thirty years of age, 
 was called upon to take an active part in the legisla- 
 tive deliberations, as well as in the popular meetings, 
 in his native State. " My immediate entrance," said 
 he, in the letter already alluded to, "into the State 
 Legislature opened to my view the causes, which had 
 been chiefly instrumental in augmenting those suffer- 
 ings [meaning of the army] ; and the general tendency 
 of State politics convinced me, that no safe and per- 
 manent remedy could be found, but in a more efficient 
 and better organized general government." Mr. 
 Madison was at that time, and had for some years 
 4 
 
^26 
 
 before been, a member of the State Legislature ; and 
 stood forth on all occasions an inflexible and enlight- 
 ened advocate for the Union ; and General Washing- 
 ton was the acknowledged head and supporter of the 
 same principles. Mr. Marshall at once arrayed him- 
 self on the side of these great leaders ; and while 
 Mr. Madison remained in the Legislature, he gave him 
 a bold and steady support in all the prominent debates. 
 The friendship, which was thus formed between them, 
 was never extinguished. The recollection of their 
 cooperation at that period served, when other meas- 
 ures had widely separated them from each other, still 
 to keep up a lively sense of each other's merits. 
 Nothing, indeed, could be more touching to an ingen- 
 uous mind, than to hear from their lips, in their latter 
 years, expressions of mutual respect and confidence ; 
 or to witness their earnest testimony to the talents, 
 the virtues, and the services of each other. 
 
 It was by this course of action in State Legislation 
 at this appalling period, that Mr. Marshall was disci- 
 plined to the thorough mastery of the true principles 
 of free government. It was here, that he learned and 
 practised those profound doctrines of rational, limited, 
 constitutional liberty, from wdiich he never shrunk, 
 and to which he resolutely adhered to the end of his 
 life. It was here, that he became enamoured, not of a 
 wild and visionary Republic, found only in the imagi- 
 nations of mere enthusiasts as to human perfection, or 
 tricked out in false colors by the selfish, to flatter the 
 prejudices, or cheat the vanity of the people ; but of 
 that well balanced Republic, adapted to human wants 
 and human infirmities, in which power is to be held 
 in check by countervailing power ; and life, liberty, 
 and property are to be secured by a real and substan- 
 
27 
 
 tial independence, as well as division of the Legisla- 
 tive, Executive, and Judicial departments. It was 
 here, that he learned to love the Union with a supreme, 
 unconquerable love ; — a love, which was never cooled 
 by neglect, or alienated by disappointment ; a love, 
 which survived the trials of adversity, and the still 
 more dangerous trials of prosperity ; — a love, which 
 clung more closely to its object, as it seemed less 
 dear, or less valuable in the eyes of others ; — a love, 
 which faltered not, fainted not, wearied not, on this 
 side the grave. Yes ; his thoughts ever dwelt on the 
 Union, as the first and best of all our earthly hopes. 
 The last expressions, which lingered on his dying lips, 
 breathed forth a prayer for his country. 
 
 " Such in that moment, as in all the past, 
 
 ' O, save my Country, Heaven,' was then his last." 
 
 While these exciting discussions were absorbing the 
 whole attention of the State Legislatures, the Confed- 
 eration was obviously approaching its final dissolution. 
 It had passed the crisis of its fate ; and its doom was 
 fixed. As a scheme of government it had utterly 
 failed ; and the moment was now anxiously expected, 
 when, from mere debility, it would cease to have even 
 a nominal existence, as it had long ceased to have 
 any substantial authority. The friends of the Union 
 determined to make one more and final effort. A 
 Convention was called, which framed the Constitution 
 of the United States ; and it was presented to the 
 people for their ratification or rejection. This measure 
 at once gave rise to new and more violent political 
 controversies ; and the whole current of popular opin- 
 ion was impetuously hurried into new channels. Par- 
 ties, for and against the adoption of the Constitution, 
 were immediately organized in every State ; and the 
 
^ 28 
 
 lines of political division were for the most part the 
 same, which marked the former parties. Virginia, as 
 a leading State, became the scene of the most active 
 exertions ; and, as many of her gifted and eloquent men 
 were arrayed against the Constitution, so its friends 
 rallied for the approaching struggle with a proportion- 
 ate zeal and ability. 
 
 Mr. Marshall was chosen a member of the Conven- 
 tion of Virginia, which was called to deliberate upon 
 the ratification of the Constitution, under circumstan- 
 ces peculiarly gratifying. — A majority of the voters of 
 the County, in which he resided, were opposed to the 
 adoption of it ; and he was assured, that, if he would 
 pledge himself to vote against it, all opposition to his 
 election should be withdrawn ; otherwise he would be 
 strenuously resisted. — He did not hesitate for a mo- 
 ment to avow his determination to vote for the Con- 
 stitution. To use his own language — "The ques- 
 tions, which were perpetually recurring in the State 
 Legislatures ; and which brought annually into doubt 
 principles, which I thought most sacred ; which proved, 
 that every thing was afloat, and that we had no safe 
 anchorage ground ; gave a high value in my estima- 
 tion to that article in the Constitution, which imposes 
 restrictions on the States. — I was consequently a de- 
 termined advocate for its adoption ; and became a 
 candidate for the Convention." — The opposition to 
 him rallied with great force ; but such was his personal 
 popularity., and the sense of his integrity, or (as in his 
 modesty he chose to express it) "parties had not yet 
 become so bitter, as to extinguish the private affec- 
 tions," that he was chosen by a triumphant majority. 
 
 Few assemblies have ever been convened under 
 circumstances of a more solemn and imposing respon- 
 
29 
 
 sibility. It was understood, that the vote of Virginia 
 would have a principal and perhaps decisive influence 
 upon several other States ; and for some weeks the 
 question of the adoption of the Constitution hung sus- 
 pended upon the deliberations of that body. On one 
 side were enlisted the powerful influence of Grayson, 
 the strong and searching sense of George Mason, and 
 the passionate and captivating eloquence of Patrick 
 Henry. On the other side were the persuasive talents 
 of George Nicholas, the animated flow of Governor 
 Randolph, the grave and sententious sagacity of Pen- 
 dleton, the masculine logic of Marshall, and the con- 
 summate skill and various knowledge of Madison. 
 Day after day, during the period of twenty-five days, 
 the debate was continued with unabated ardor and 
 obstinate perseverance. And it was not until it was 
 known, that the Constitution had already been adopted 
 by nine States, (which settled its fate,) that Virginia by 
 the small majority of ten votes, reluctantly gave her 
 own voice in its favor. 
 
 During the whole of this most arduous and interest- 
 ing contest the leading debates were principally con- 
 ducted on opposite sides by Henry and Madison. Mr. 
 Marshall contented himself with a constant support of 
 his leader. But on three great occasions, the debate 
 on the power of taxation, that on the power over the 
 militia, and that on the powers of the Judiciary, he 
 gave free scope to his genius, and argued in their favor 
 with commanding ability. The printed sketches of all 
 these debates are confessedly loose, and imperfect, and 
 do little justice to the eloquence or ability of the re- 
 spective speakers. Yet with all their imperfections the 
 most careless observer cannot fail to perceive, in what 
 is attributed to Mr. Marshall on these occasions, the 
 
^ 30 
 
 closeness of logic, the clearness of statement, and the 
 comprehensiveness of principles, which characterized 
 his labors in the maturer periods of his life. I regret, 
 that the brief space of time, allowed for the present 
 notices, does not justify me in the citation of some pas- 
 sages to illustrate these remarks. 
 
 It is difficult, perhaps it is impossible, for us of the 
 present generation to conceive the magnitude of the 
 dangers, which then gathered over our country. Not- 
 withstanding all the sufferings of the people, the ac- 
 knowledged imbecility, nay the absolute nothingness 
 of the Confederation, and the desperate state of our 
 public affairs, there were men of high character, and 
 patriots too, who clung to the Confederation with an 
 almost insane attachment. They had been so long 
 accustomed to have all their affections concentrated 
 upon the State Governments, as their protection against 
 foreign oppression, that a National Government seemed 
 to them but another name for an overwhelming des- 
 potism. We have lived to see all their fears and 
 prophecies of evil scattered to the winds. We have 
 witnessed the solid growth and prosperity of the whole 
 country, under the auspices of the National Govern- 
 ment, to an extent never even imagined by its warmest 
 friends. We have seen our agriculture pour forth its 
 various products, created by a generous, I had almost 
 said, a profuse industry. The miserable exports, 
 scarcely amounting in the times, of which I have been 
 speaking, in the aggregate, to the sum of one or two 
 hundred thousand dollars, now almost reach to forty 
 millions a year in a single staple. We have seen our 
 commerce, which scarcely crept along our noiseless 
 docks, and stood motionless and withering, while the 
 breezes of the ocean moaned through the crevices of our 
 
31 
 
 ruined wharves and deserted warehouses, spread its 
 white canvass in every clime ; and, laden with its rich 
 returns, spring buoyant on the waves of the home ports ; 
 and cloud the very shores with forests of masts, over 
 which the stars and the stripes are gallantly streaming. 
 We have seen our manufactures, awakening from a 
 deathlike lethargy, crowd every street of our towns and 
 cities w^ith their busy workmen, and their busier ma- 
 chinery ; and startling the silence of our wide streams, 
 and deep dells, and sequestered valleys. We have 
 seen our wild waterfalls, subdued by the power of man, 
 become the mere instruments of his will, and, under 
 the guidance of mechanical genius, now driving with 
 unerring certainty the flying shuttle, now weaving the 
 mysterious threads of the most delicate fabrics, and 
 now pressing the reluctant metals into form, as if they 
 were but playthings in the hands of giants. We have 
 seen our rivers bear upon their bright waters the swell- 
 ing sails of our coasters,. and the sleepless wheels of 
 our steamboats in endless progress-. Nay, the very 
 tides of the ocean, in their regular ebb and flow in our 
 ports, seem now but heralds to announce the arrival 
 and departure of our uncounted navigation. We have 
 seen all these things ; and we can scarcely believe, 
 that there were days and nights, nay, months and years, 
 in which our wisest patriots and statesmen sat down 
 in anxious meditations to devise the measures, which 
 should save the country from impending ruin. The 
 task was, indeed, most arduous ; in which success was 
 far more desired than expected. Obstinate prejudices 
 were to be overcome ; and popular influences were to 
 be resisted. They could scarcely hope for their just 
 rewards, except from a distant posterity. But they were 
 governed by a supreme love of their country, and the 
 
 * ^ 
 
^ 32 
 
 consciousness of the inestimable value of the objects, 
 if achieved. Events, indeed, have far outstripped their 
 most sanguine imaginings. By the blessing of Provi- 
 dence we have risen, under the auspices of the Federal 
 Constitution, from a feeble republic to a wide spread- 
 ing empire. Many of these patriots and statesmen 
 went down to their graves without the consolation of 
 having witnessed the glorious results of their labors. 
 We owe them a debt of gratitude, which can never 
 be repaid. They laid the broad foundations of our gov- 
 ernment upon public justice, public virtue, and public 
 liberty. They reared the superstructure with consum- 
 mate skill, and of the most solid materials. It is for 
 ius to say, whether it shall remain through all ages an 
 enduring monument of political wisdom ; or, toppling 
 from its height, shall bury under its ruins the glory of 
 the past and the hopes of the future. It can be pre- 
 served only by untiring watchfulness. It may be de- 
 stroyed by popular violence, or the madness of party, 
 or the deeper sappings of corruption. It may, like the 
 fragments of other great empires, (may Heaven avert 
 the evil !) it may 
 
 " Leave a name, at which the world grew pale, 
 To point a moral, or adorn a tale." 
 
 But these are topics, which, though not inappropriate 
 upon the present occasion, are of themselves of too 
 absorbing an interest to be discussed, as mere incidents 
 in the life of any individual. They may be glanced at 
 in order to do justice to eminent patriotism ; but they 
 essentially belong to that philosophy, which reads in the 
 history of the past lessons of admonition and instruc- 
 tion for the ascertainment of the future. Tacitus in 
 other days arrived at the melancholy conclusion, 
 
33 
 
 Reipublicae Forma laudari facilius, quam evenire ; vel 
 si evenit, baud diuturna esse potest.* 
 
 As soon as the adoption of the Constitution had been 
 secured, Mr. Marshall immediately determined to re- 
 linquish public life, and to confine his labors to his 
 profession. To this resolution, which was urged upon 
 him by the claims of a growing family and a narrow 
 fortune, he was not enabled to adhere with the stead- 
 fastness, which he wished. The hostility, already 
 evinced against the establishment of the National 
 Government, was soon transferred in Virginia to an 
 opposition to all its leading measures. Under such 
 circumstances, it was natural for the friends of the 
 Constitution to seek to give it a strong support in the 
 State Legislature. Mr. Marshall was accordingly 
 compelled to yield to their wishes, and served as a 
 member from 1788 to 1792. From the time of the 
 organization of the government under President Wash- 
 ington, almost every important measure of his adminis- 
 tration was discussed in the Virginia Legislature with 
 great freedom, and no small degree of warmth and 
 acrimony. On these occasions, it fell to the lot of Mr. 
 Marshall to defend these measures, and to maintain 
 the rights, duties, and powers of the National Govern- 
 ment against every attack ; and he performed the ser- 
 vice with great zeal, independence, and ability. In 
 1792, he again retired from the State Legislature, and 
 returned to his professional labors with increased ac- 
 tivity ; and soon found himself engaged in all the lead- 
 ing causes in the state and national tribunals. The 
 excellent Reports of this period by my lamented friend, 
 Mr. Justice Washington, exhibit ample proofs of his 
 success in argument.! 
 
 * Tacitus, Annal. B. 4, n. 15. f See also Mr. Call's Reports. 
 
^ 34 
 
 But, although Mr. Marshall was thus for some years 
 withdrawn from public life, yet he was still compelled 
 to take an .active part in political discussions. The 
 French Revolution, which at its early dawn had been 
 hailed with universal enthusiasm throughout America, 
 had now burst out into extravagancies and butcheries, 
 which disgraced the cause of liberty, and gave an un- 
 bounded license to ferocious mobs and demagogues. 
 The monarchs of Europe, alarmed for their own safety, 
 were soon leagued in a mighty confederacy to crush a 
 revolution, dangerous to (he claims of legitimacy, and 
 the stability of thrones. It was easy to foresee, that 
 if their enterprises against France were successful, we, 
 ourselves, should soon have but a questionable secu- 
 rity for our own independence-. It would be natural 
 after their European triumphs were complete, that 
 they should cast their eyes across the Atlantic, and 
 trace back the origin of the evil to the living example 
 of constitutional liberty in this Western Hemisphere. 
 Under such circumstances, notwithstanding all the 
 excesses of the French Revolution, the mass of the 
 American people continued to take the liveliest inter- 
 est in it, and to cherish the warmest wishes for its suc- 
 cess. These feelings were heightened by the grateful 
 recollection of the services rendered to us by France 
 in our own Revolution ; and the consideration, that she 
 was struggling to relieve herself from oppressions, 
 under which she had been groaning for centuries. In 
 this posture of affairs, there was infinite danger, that 
 we should be driven from the moorings of our neutral- 
 ity, and should embark in the contest, not only as an 
 ally, but as a party, foremost in the fight, and in the 
 responsibility. We were just recovering from the ex- 
 haustion, and poverty, and suifering, consequent upon 
 
35 
 
 our own struggle ; and the renewal of war would be 
 fraught with immeasurable injuries, not only to our 
 present interests, but to our future national advance- 
 ment. France saw and felt the nature of our posi- 
 tion ; and partly by blandishments, and partly by 
 threats, endeavoured to enlist our fortunes, as she had 
 already succeeded in enlisting our feelings, in her 
 favor. The other powers of Europe were not less 
 eager in their gaze, or less determined in their future 
 course. England, herself, had already adopted pre- 
 cautionary measures to compel us to support our neu- 
 trality in an open and uncompromising manner, or to 
 assume the state of positive hostilities. 
 
 It was under these circumstances, that President 
 Washington, having determined to preserve our own 
 peace, and to vindicate our rights against all the bel- 
 ligerents with an even handed justice, issued his cele- 
 brated Proclamation of Neutrality. The whole country 
 was immediately thrown into a flame ; and the two 
 great parties, into which we were then divided, engag- 
 ed, the one in denouncing it, and the other in support- 
 ing it, with intense zeal. On this occasion Mr. Mar- 
 shall found himself, much to his regret, arranged on a 
 different side from Mr. Madison. He resolutely main- 
 tained the constitutionality, the policy, nay, the duty 
 of issuing the Proclamation, by oral harangues, and 
 by elaborate writings. For these opinions he was 
 attacked with great asperity in the newspapers and 
 pamphlets of the day, and designated by way of signifi- 
 cant reproach, as the friend and coadjutor of Hamilton, 
 a reproach, which at all times he would have counted 
 an honor ; but, when coupled (as it was) with the 
 name of Washington, he deemed the highest praise. 
 He defended himself against these attacks with aj^ 
 
^ 36 
 
 invincible firmness, and ability, proportioned to the 
 occasion. He drew up a series of resolutions, approv- 
 ing the conduct of the Executive, and carried them by 
 a decided majority at a public meeting of the citizens 
 of Richmond. 
 
 The result of this controversy is well known. The 
 administration was sustained in its course by the sober 
 sense of the majority of the nation ; and the doctrine, 
 then so strenuously contested and boldly denounced, 
 has ever since that time been laid up as among the 
 most undisputable of executive rights and duties. Prob- 
 ably, at the present day, not a single statesman can be 
 found, of any influence in any party, who does not 
 deem the measure to have been as well founded in 
 constitutional law, as it was in sound policy. 
 
 In the spring of 1795, Mr. Marshall was again re- 
 turned as a member of the State Legislature, not only 
 without his approbation, but against his known wishes. 
 It was truly an honorable tribute to his merits ; but it 
 was demanded by the critical posture of our public 
 affairs. The treaty with Great Britain, negotiated by 
 that eminent patriot, Mr. Jay, was then the subject of 
 universal discussion. As soon as the ratification of it 
 was known to have been advised by the Senate, the 
 opposition to it broke out with almost unexampled vio- 
 lence. Public meetings were called in all our princi- 
 pal cities for the purpose of inducing the President to 
 withhold his ratification ; and if this step should fail, 
 then to induce Congress to withhold the appropria- 
 tions necessary to carry the treaty into effect. Such 
 a course, if successful, (it was obvious) w^ould at once 
 involve us in a war with England, and an alliance with 
 France. The denunciations of the treaty were every 
 where loud and vehement. The topics of animadver- 
 
37 
 
 sion were not confined to the policy, or expediency of 
 the principal articles of the treaty. They took a 
 broader range ; and the extraordinary doctrine was 
 advanced and vigorously maintained, that the negotia- 
 tion of a commercial treaty by the Executive was an 
 infringement of the Constitution, and a violation of the 
 power given to Congress to regulate commerce. 
 
 Mr. Marshall took an active part in all the discus- 
 sions upon this subject. Believing the treaty indispen- 
 sable to the preservation of peace, and its main pro- 
 visions beneficial to the United States, and consistent 
 with its true dignity, he addressed himself with the 
 most diligent attention to an examination of all the arti- 
 cles, and of the objections urged against them. It was 
 truly a critical period, not merely for the country, but 
 also in an especial manner for the administration. 
 Many of its sincere friends, from the boldness and sud- 
 denness of the attacks upon it, from the inflamed state 
 of the public mind, and from a natural distrust of their 
 own judgment upon topics full of embarassment and 
 novelty, remained in a state of suspense, or timidly 
 yielded themselves to the prejudices of the times. It 
 has been well observed in the biography of Washing- 
 ton, that it is diflicult now to review the various reso- 
 lutions and addresses, to which this occasion gave 
 birth, without feeling some degree of astonishment, 
 mingled with humiliation, on perceiving such proofs of 
 the deplorable fallibility of human reason. 
 
 In no State in the Union was a more intense hostil- 
 ity exhibited against the treaty than in Virginia ; and 
 in none were the objections against it urged with more 
 unsparing or impassioned earnestness. The task, 
 therefore, of meeting and overturning them was of no 
 ordinary magnitude, and required the resources of a 
 
^ 38 
 
 well instructed mind. In some resolutions passed at a 
 meeting of the citizens of Richmond, at which Mr. 
 Chancellor Wythe presided, the treaty was denounced 
 " as insulting to the dignity, injurious to the interest, 
 dangerous to the security, and repugnant to the Con- 
 stitution of the United States." At a meeting of the 
 same citizens, subsequently held, Mr. Marshall intro- 
 duced certain resolutions in favor of the conduct of the 
 Executive, and supported them in a masterly speech ; 
 the best comment upon which is, that the resolutions 
 were approved by a flattering majority. 
 
 But a more difficult and important duty remained to 
 be performed. It was easily foreseen, that the contro- 
 versy would soon find its way into the State Legisla- 
 ture, and would there be renewed with all the bitter 
 animosity of party spirit. So odious was the treaty in 
 Virginia, that Mr. Marshall's friends were exceedingly 
 solicitous, that he should not engage in any legislative 
 debates on the subject, as it would certainly impair his 
 well earned popularity, and might even subject him to 
 some rude personal attacks. His answer to all such 
 suggestions uniformly was, that he would not bring 
 forward any measure to excite a debate on the subject ; 
 but if it were brought forward by others, he would at 
 all hazards vindicate the administration, and assert his 
 own opinions. The subject was soon introduced by 
 the opposition ; and, among other things, the consti- 
 tutional objections were urged with triumphant confi- 
 dence. Especially was that objection pressed, which 
 denied the constitutional right of the Executive to con- 
 clude a commercial treaty, as a favorite and unan- 
 swerable position. The speech of Mr. Marshall on this 
 occasion has always been represented as one of the 
 noblest efibrts of his genius. His vast powers of rea- 
 
39 
 
 soiling were displayed with the most gratifying success. 
 He demonstrated, not only from the words of the Con- 
 stitution and the universal practice of nations, that a 
 commercial treaty was within the scope of the consti- 
 tutional powers of the Executive ; but that this opin- 
 ion had been maintained and sanctioned by Mr. Jeffer- 
 son, by the Virginia delegation in Congress, and by 
 the leading members of the Convention on both sides. 
 The argument was decisive. The constitutional ground 
 was abandoned ; and the resolutions of the assembly 
 were confined to a simple disapprobation of the treaty 
 in point of expediency. 
 
 The constitutional objections were again urged in 
 Congress, in the celebrated debate on the Treaty in 
 the spring of 1796 ; and there finally assumed the mit- 
 igated shape of a right claimed by Congress, to grant 
 or withhold appropriations to carry treaties into effect. 
 The higher ground, that commercial treaties were not, 
 when ratified by the Senate, the supreme law of the 
 land, was abandoned ; and the subsequent practice of 
 the government has, without serious question, been 
 under every administration, in conformity to the con- 
 struction vindicated by Mr. Marshall. The fame of this 
 admirable argument spread through the Union. Even 
 with his political enemies, it enhanced the estimate of 
 his character ; and it brought him at once to the notice 
 of some of the most eminent statesmen, who then 
 graced the councils of the nation. 
 
 In the winter of 1796, Mr. Marshall visited Philadel- 
 phia, to argue before the Supreme Court the great 
 case of Ware v. Hylton, which involved the question 
 of the right of recovery of British debts, which had 
 been confiscated during the revolutionary war. It 
 is well known, that the question was decided against 
 
^ 40 
 
 the side, on which Mr. Marshall was employed. On 
 this occasion he was opposed by three of the ablest 
 lawyers, then belonging to the Pennsylvania bar. 
 This was, of itself, under such circumstances, no small 
 distinction. But the sketch of the argument delivered 
 by him, as we find it in the printed Reports, affords 
 conclusive evidence of his juridical learning, and the 
 great skill, with which he arranged his materials, and 
 sustained the interests of his client. 
 
 It was during this visit, that he became personally 
 acquainted with the distinguished men, who were then 
 in Congress, as Representatives from the Northern 
 States. " I then became acquainted," says he, in a 
 letter to a friend, "with Mr. Cabot, Mr. Ames, Mr. 
 Dexter, and Mr. Sedgwick of Massachusetts, Mr. 
 Wadsworth of Connecticut, and Mr. King of New 
 York. I was delighted with these gentlemen. The 
 particular subject (the British Treaty) which intro- 
 duced me to their notice, was at that time so interest- 
 ing, and a Virginian, who supported, with any sort of 
 reputation, the measures of the government, was such 
 a rara avis, that I was received by them all with a 
 degree of kindness, which I had not anticipated. I 
 was particularly intimate with Mr. Ames, and could 
 scarcely gain credit with him, when I assured him, that 
 the appropriations would be seriously opposed in Con- 
 gress." The event proved, that he was right. The 
 high opinion, which he then formed of these gentlemen, 
 continued to be cherished by him through all his future 
 life. 
 
 About this period President Washington offered 
 him the office of Attorney General of the United 
 States ; but he declined it on the ground of its inter- 
 ference with his far more lucrative practice in Virginia. 
 
41 
 
 He continued, however, in the State Legislature ; but 
 he rarely engaged in the debates, except when the 
 measures of the National Government were discussed, 
 and required vindication. Nor Avere the occasions 
 few, in which this task was required to be performed 
 with a steady confidence. One of them shall be men- 
 tioned in his own words. " It was, I think," said he, 
 " in the session of 1796, that I was engaged in a debate, 
 which called forth all the strength and violence of 
 party. Some Federalist moved a resolution, express- 
 ing the high confidence of the House in the virtue, 
 patriotism, and wisdom of the President of the United 
 States. A motion was made to strike out the word 
 wisdom. In the debate the whole course of the Ad- 
 ministration was reviewed, and the whole talent of 
 each party was brought into action. Will it be believ- 
 ed, that the word was retained by a very small major- 
 ity ? A very small majority in the Legislature of 
 Virginia acknowledged the wisdom of General Wash- 
 ington ! " 
 
 Upon the recall of Mr. Monroe, as Minister to France, 
 President Washington solicited Mr. Marshall to accept 
 the appointment, as his successor ; but he respectfully 
 declined it for the same reasons as he had the office of 
 Attorney General ; and General Pinckney, of South 
 Carolina, was appointed in his stead. "I then thought," 
 said he, " my determination to remain at the bar un- 
 alterable. My situation at the bar appeared to me 
 to be more independent, and not less honorable, than 
 any other ; and my preference for it was decided." 
 
 But he was not long permitted to act upon his own 
 judgment and choice. The French Government re- 
 fused to receive General Pinckney ; and Mr. Adams, 
 (who had then succeeded to the Presidency,) from an 
 6 
 
^ 42 
 
 anxious desire to exhaust every measure of concilia- 
 tion, not incompatible with the national dignity, in 
 June, 1797, appointed Mr. Marshall, General Pinck- 
 ney, and Mr. (afterwards Vice-President) Gerry, En- 
 voys Extraordinary to the Court of France. After no 
 inconsiderable struggles in his own mind, (which are 
 fully developed in a paper now in my possession,) Mr. 
 Marshall accepted the appointment ; and proceeded 
 to Paris, and there, with his colleagues, entered upon 
 the duties of the mission. It is well known, that the 
 mission was unsuccessful ; the French Government 
 having refused to enter into any negotiations. The pre- 
 paration of the official despatches addressed to that 
 Government upon this occasion was confided to Mr. 
 Marshall ; and these despatches have been universally 
 admired. They are models of skilful reasoning, clear 
 illustration, accurate detail, and urbane and dignified 
 moderation. They contain a most elaborate review of all 
 the principles of national law, applicable to the points 
 in controversy between the two Nations. As State 
 Papers, there are not in the annals of our diplomacy 
 any, upon which an American can look back with more 
 pride, or from Avhich he can draw more various in- 
 struction. 
 
 On his return home Mr. Marshall resumed his pro- 
 fessional business, and had the best reasons to believe, 
 that it would be increased rather than diminished by 
 his temporary absence. He was determined to pursue 
 it with renewed ardor. But from this determination 
 he was again diverted by a personal appeal made to 
 him by General Washington, who earnestly insisted, 
 that he should become a candidate for Congress. After 
 a conversation between them of the deepest interest and 
 animation, and breathing on each side a spirit of the 
 
43 
 
 purest patriotism, Mr. Marshall reluctantly yielded to 
 the wishes of General Washington, and became a can- 
 didate ; and was elected after a most ardent political 
 contest ; and took his seat in Congress in December, 
 1799. While he was yet a candidate. President Adams 
 offered him the seat on the Bench of the Supreme Court, 
 then vacant by the death of Mr. Justice Iredell. He 
 immediately declined it ; and it was conferred on that 
 excellent magistrate, Mr. Justice Washington. 
 
 The Session of Congress in the winter of 1799 and 
 1800 will be for ever memorable in our political annals. 
 It was the moment of the final struggle for power be- 
 tween the two great political parties, which then divided 
 the country, and ended, as is well known, in the over- 
 throw of the federal administration. Men of the highest 
 talents and influence were there assembled, and arrayed 
 in hostility to each other ; and were excited by all the 
 strongest motives, which can rouse the human mind, 
 the pride of power, the hope of victory, the sense of 
 responsibility, the devotion to principles deemed vital, 
 and the bonds of long political attachment and action. 
 Under such circumstances, (as might naturally be 
 expected,) every important measure of the administra- 
 tion was assailed with a bold and vehement criticism ; 
 and was defended with untiring zeal and firmness. Mr. 
 Marshall took his full share in the debates ; and was 
 received with a distinction proportioned to his merits. 
 Such a distinction, in such a body, is a rare occurrence ; 
 for years of public service and experience are usually 
 found indispensable to acquire and justify the confidence 
 of the House of Representatives. 
 
 It is not my intention to enter into a minute detail 
 of the debates, in which Mr. Marshall took a part, or 
 to vindicate his votes or opinions. That duty is more 
 
m 44 
 
 appropriate for a different labor. On one occasion, 
 however, he took a leading part in a most important 
 debate, which acquired for him a wide public fame, 
 and therefore requires notice in this place. I allude 
 to the debate on the case of Thomas Nash, otherwise 
 called Jonathan Robbins, who had been surrendered 
 to the British Government for trial for a supposed 
 murder, committed by him on board of a British ship 
 of war. Certain Resolutions were brought forward, 
 censuring the conduct of the Executive for this act, in 
 terms of decided disapprobation, as unconstitutional 
 and improper. Mr. Marshall in the course of the de- 
 bate delivered a speech in vindication of the right and 
 duty of the Executive to make the surrender, which 
 placed him at once in the first rank of constitutional 
 statesmen. The substance of it is now in print. It is 
 one of the most consummate juridical arguments, which 
 was ever pronounced in the Halls of Legislation ; and 
 equally remarkable for the lucid order of its topics, 
 the profoundness of its logic, the extent of its research, 
 and the force of its illustrations. It maybe said of that 
 Speech, as was said of Lord Mansfield's celebrated An- 
 swer to the Prussian Memorial, it was Rcponse sans re- 
 pligue^ an answer so irresistible, that it admitted of no 
 reply. It silenced opposition, and settled then, and 
 for ever, the points of national law, upon which the con- 
 troversy hinged. The Resolutions did not, indeed, fall 
 lifeless from the Speaker's table, though they were ne- 
 gatived by a large majority. But a more unequivocal 
 demonstration of public opinion followed. The denun- 
 ciations of the Executive, which had hitherto been hafsh 
 and clamorous every where throughout the land, sunk 
 away at once into cold and cautious whispers only of 
 disapprobation. Whoever reads that Speech even at 
 
45 
 
 this distance of time, when the topics have lost much of 
 their interest, will be struck with the prodigious powers 
 of analysis and reasoning, which it displays ; and which 
 are enhanced by the consideration, that the whole sub- 
 ject was then confessedly new in many of its aspects. 
 
 In May, 1800, President Adams, without any personal 
 communication with Mr. Marshall, appointed him Sec- 
 retary of War. Before, however, he was called to 
 enter upon the duties of that office, the known rupture 
 took place between the President and Col. Pickering ; 
 and Mr. Marshall was appointed Secretary of State in 
 the stead of the latter. The appointment was every 
 way honorable to his merits ; and no one doubted, that 
 he was eminently qualified for the discharge of its ar- 
 duous and important duties. 
 
 And, here, I cannot but take great pleasure in record- 
 ing a circumstance equally honorable to all the parties 
 concerned. Without intending in the slightest degree 
 to enter upon the discussion of the controversy between 
 the President and Col. Pickering, I may be permitted 
 to say, that the circumstances, necessarily attending 
 the dismissal of the latter from office, were calculated 
 to awaken a strong sense of injustice in the mind of an 
 officer of unquestionable integrity and patriotism. The 
 rupture grew out of a serious difference of opinion 
 upon very grave political measures ; and Mr. Marshall 
 entertained a serious attachment to the views of the 
 President. Under such circumstances, it would have 
 been not unnatural, that the late Secretary should have 
 felt some prejudices against his successor; and that 
 there should have been some withdrawal of mutual 
 confidence and perhaps respect between them. No 
 such event occurred. On the contrary, each to the 
 day of his death spoke of the other in terms of enviable 
 
^ 46 
 
 commendation ; and their mutual frank and familiar 
 friendship was never in the slightest manner interrupt- 
 ed. I have often listened to the spontaneous praise 
 bestowed on Mr. Marshall by Col. Pickering, (a man 
 to whom might justly be applied the character — In- 
 corrupta fides, nudaque Veritas, et mens conscia recti) 
 in his own peculiar circle of friends with unmixed de- 
 light. It was full, glowing, and affecting. It was a 
 tribute from one of such sincerity of thought and pur- 
 pose, that praise, even when best deserved, came from 
 his lips with a studied caution of language. His con- 
 versation, always instructive, on these occasions rose 
 into eloquence, beautiful, nay, touched with a moral 
 sublimity. When all the circumstances are consider- 
 ed, I think, that I do not over estimate the value of this 
 example of mutual confidence and friendship, when I 
 pronounce it as gratifying, as it is rare. It prostrates 
 in the dust all petty rivalry for public distinction. It 
 shows, that great minds, (and perhaps great minds 
 only,) fully understand that exquisite moral truth, 
 that no man stands in another man's way in the road 
 to honor ; and that the world is wide enough for the 
 fullest display of the virtues and talents of all, with- 
 out intercepting a single ray of light reflected by 
 any. 
 
 On the 31st of January, 1801, Mr. Marshall received 
 the appointment of Chief Justice of the United States. 
 It is due to his memory to state, that it was conferred 
 on him, not only without his own solicitation, (for he 
 had in fact recommended another person for the office,) 
 but by the prompt and spontaneous choice of Presi- 
 dent Adams upon his own unassisted judgment. The 
 nomination was unanimously confirmed by the Senate ; 
 and the Chief Justice accordingly took his seat on the 
 
47 
 
 Bench at the ensuing term of the Supreme Court. I 
 trust, that I am not violating any private confidence, 
 when I quote fi:-om a letter of the distinguished Son of 
 this distinguished Patriot a passage on this subject, to 
 which the whole country will respond without hesita- 
 tion. It enclosed a judicial commission to a gentle- 
 man, now justly enjoying the highest professional 
 reputation ; and says with equal felicity and truth — 
 " One of the last acts of my father's administration^ 
 was the transmission of a commission to John Marshall, 
 as Chief Justice of the United States. One of the last 
 acts of my administration is the transmission of the 
 enclosed commission to you. If neither of us had 
 ever done any thing else to deserve the approbation 
 of our country, and of posterity, I would proudly claim 
 it of both for these acts, as due to my father and 
 myself." The claim is, indeed, a proud claim to 
 distinction. It has received, as it deserved, the ap- 
 probation of the whole country. The gratitude of 
 posterity will also do just homage to the sagacity, 
 foresight, disinterestedness, and public spirit of the 
 choice. It was in moral dignity the fit close of a po- 
 litical life of extraordinary brilliancy. In public im- 
 portance it scarcely yielded to any act of that life, 
 except the motion for the Declaration of Independence. 
 Such honor from such hands was felt to be doubly 
 dear. It was the highest praise from one, whose title 
 to confer it had been earned by long services in the 
 cause of liberty. The names of Adams and Marshall 
 became thus indissolubly connected in the juridical 
 and constitutional history of the country. 
 
 From this time until his death the Chief Justice con- 
 tinued in the discharge of the duties of his exalted 
 office with unsullied dignity, and constantly increasing 
 
^ 48 
 
 reputation. Notwithstanding his advancing years, no 
 sensible inroad had been made upon his general health, 
 until the last term of the Court, when it was obvious, 
 that his physical strength had passed the utmost stretch 
 of its vigor, and was in a state of rapid decline. His 
 intellectual powers still, however, retained their wonted 
 energy ; and, though he was suffering under great 
 bodily pain, he not only bore it w^ith an uncomplaining 
 spirit, but continued to take his full share of the busi- 
 ness of the Court. No better proof need be required 
 of his intellectual ability than his opinions, which 
 stand recorded in the last volume of Reports. 
 
 At the close of the term he returned to his resi- 
 dence in Virginia ; and he was afterwards induced, by 
 the solicitations of his friends, to visit Philadelphia, in 
 the expectation of receiving some aid from the dis- 
 tinguished medical skill of that city. His constitution, 
 however, had become so shattered, that little more 
 remained to be done, during the last weeks of his life, 
 than to smooth the downward path towards the grave. 
 He died on the sixth day of July last past, about six 
 o'clock in the evening, in the arms of his children, 
 without a struggle ; and to use the expressive lan- 
 guage of one, who was present, his last breath was 
 the softest whisper of a zephyr. Fortunately, by the 
 considerate kindness of his friends, he was spared the 
 knowledge of the death of his eldest son, who lost his 
 life a few days before by a most calamitous accident ; 
 an event, which, from the high character of the son, 
 and his strong affection for him, would have filled his 
 last hours with inexpressible anguish. 
 
 He was fully aware of his approaching end, and pre- 
 pared to meet it with a calmness built upon the fixed 
 principles, by which he had regulated his life. Two 
 
49 
 
 days only before his death he wrote an Inscription to 
 be placed on his tomb, in the following simple and 
 modest terms: "John Marshall, son of Thomas and 
 Mary Marshall, was born on the 24th of September, 
 1755, intermarried with Mary Willis Ambler the 3d 
 
 of January, 1783, departed this life the day of 
 
 18—." 
 
 What can be more affecting than these few fkctsi^ 
 the only ones, which he deemed in his last moments 
 worth recording ! His birth ; his parentage ; his mar- 
 riage ; his death ; — His parents, to whose memory he 
 was attached with a filial piety, full of reverence ; — 
 his marriage to the being, whom he had loved with a 
 singleness and devotedness of affection never surpass- 
 ed ; — his own birth, which seemed principally memo- 
 rable to him, as it connected him with beings like 
 these; — his own death, which was but an event to 
 re-unite him with those, who had gone before, in a 
 world, where there should be no more suffering or 
 sorrow ; but kindred souls should dwell together, even 
 as the Angels in Heaven. 
 
 I have now finished the narrative of the life of Chief 
 Justice Marshall, a life, which, though unadorned by 
 brilliant passages of individual adventure, or striking 
 events, carries with it, (unless I am greatly mistaken,) 
 that, which is the truest title to renown, a fame found- 
 ed on public and private virtue. It has happened to 
 him, as to many other distinguished men, that his life 
 had few incidents; and those, which belonged to it, were 
 not far removed from the ordinary course of human 
 events. That life was filled up in the conscientious 
 discharge of duty. It was throughout marked by a 
 wise and considerate propriety. His virtues expanded 
 with the gradual development of his character. They 
 7 
 
^ 50 
 
 were the natural growth of deep rooted principles, 
 working their way through the gentlest affections, and 
 the purest ambition. No man ever had a loftier desire 
 of excellence ; but it was tempered by a kindness, 
 which subdued envy, and a diffidence, which extin- 
 guished jealousy. Search his wdiole life, and you can- 
 not lay your finger on a single extravagance of design 
 or act ? There were no infirmities, leaving a permanent 
 stain behind them. There were no eccentricities to 
 be concealed ; no follies to be apologized for ; no 
 vices to be blushed at ; no rash outbreakings of pas- 
 sionate resentment to be regretted ; no dark deeds, 
 disturbing the peace of families, or leaving them 
 wretched by its desolations. If here and there the 
 severest scrutiny might be thought capable of detecting 
 any slight admixture of human frailty, it was so shaded 
 off in its coloring, that it melted into some kindred 
 virtue. It might with truth be said, that the very fail- 
 ing leaned to the side of the charities of life; and 
 carried with it the soothing reflection — Non multum 
 abludit imago. It might excite a smile ; it could 
 never awaken a sigh. 
 
 Indeed, there was in him a rare combination of vir- 
 tues, such only as belongs to a character of consum- 
 mate wisdom ; a wisdom which looks through this 
 world, but which also looks far beyond it for motives 
 and objects. I know not, whether such wisdom ought 
 to be considered as the cause, or the accompaniment, of 
 such virtues ; or whether they do not in truth alter- 
 nately act upon, and perfect each other. 
 
 I have said, that there was in him a rare combina- 
 tion of virtues. If I might venture, upon so solemn an 
 occasion, to express my own deliberate judgment, in the 
 very terms most significant to express it, I should say, 
 
51 
 
 that the combination was so rare, that I have never 
 known any man, whom I should pronounce more per- 
 fect. 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 
 straight forward. Yet it was combined with such a gen- 
 tle and bland demeanour, that it never gave offence ; 
 but it was, on the contrary, most persuasive in its 
 appeals to the understanding. 
 
 Among Christian sects, he personally attached him- 
 self to the Episcopal Church. It was the religion of 
 his early education ; and became afterwards that of 
 his choice. But he was without the slightest touch of 
 bigotry or intolerance His benevolence was as wide, 
 as Christianity itself It embraced the human race. 
 He was not only liberal in his feelings, and principles, 
 but in his charities. His hands were open upon all 
 occasions to succour distress, to encourage enterprise, 
 and to support good institutions. 
 
 He was a man of the most unaffected modesty. Al- 
 though I am persuaded, that no one ever possessed a 
 more entire sense of his own extraordinary talents and 
 acquirements, than he ; yet it was a quiet, secret 
 sense, without pride and without ostentation. May I 
 be permitted to say, that, during a most intimate friend- 
 ship of many, many years, I never upon any occasion 
 was able to detect the slightest tincture of personal 
 vaEilt'^.- He had no desire for display ; and no ambi- 
 tion for admiration. He made no effort to win attention 
 in conversation or argument, beyond what the occasion 
 absolutely required. He sought no fine turns of ex- 
 pression, no vividness of diction, no ornate elegancies 
 
^ 52 
 
 of thought, no pointed sentences, to attract observation. 
 What he said was always well said, because it came 
 from a full mind, accustomed to deep reflection ; and 
 he w^as rarely languid, or indifferent to topics, which 
 interested others. He dismissed them without regret ; 
 though he discussed them with spirit. He never ob- 
 truded his own opinions upon others ; but brought 
 them out only, as they were sought, and then with 
 clearness and calmness. Upon a first introduction, he 
 would be thought to be somewhat cold and reserved ; 
 but he was neither the one, nor the other. It was 
 simply a habit of easy taciturnity, w^aiting, as it were, 
 his own turn to follow the line of conversation, and 
 not to presume to lead it. Even this habit melted 
 away in the presence of the young ; for he always 
 looked upon them with a sort of parental fondness, and 
 enjoyed their playful wit, and fresh and confident en- 
 thusiasm. Meet him in a stage coach, as a stranger, 
 and travel with him a whole day ; and you would only 
 be struck with his readiness to administer to the ac- 
 commodations of others, and his anxiety to appropriate 
 the least to himself. Be with him, the unknown guest 
 at an Inn, and he seemed adjusted to the very scene, 
 partaking of the warm welcome of its comforts, when- 
 ever found ; and if not found, resigning himself with- 
 out complaint to its meanest arrangements. You 
 would never suspect, in either case, that he was a 
 great man ; far less, that he was the Chief Justice of the 
 United States. But, if perchance, invited by the occa- 
 sion, you drew him into familiar conversation, you 
 would never forget, that you had seen and heard that 
 " old man eloquent." 
 
 \ He had great simplicity of character, manners, 
 dress, and deportment ; and yet with a natural dignity, 
 
that suppressed impertinence, and silenced rudeness. 
 His simplicity was never accompanied with that want 
 of perception of what is right, and fit for the occasion ; 
 of that grace, which wins respect ; or that propriety, 
 which constitutes the essence of refined courtesy. 
 And yet it had an exquisite naivete, which charmed 
 every one, and gave a sweetness to his familiar con- 
 versations, approaching to fascination. The first im- 
 pression of a stranger, upon his introduction to him, was 
 generally that of disappointment. It seemed hardly 
 credible, that such simplicity should be the accompani- 
 ment of such acknowledged greatness. The con- 
 sciousness of power was not there ; the air of oflice 
 was not there ; there was no play of the lights or 
 shades of rank ; no study of effect in tone or bearing. 
 You saw at once, that he never thought of himself; 
 and that he was far more anxious to know others, than 
 to be known by them. You quitted him with increased 
 reverence for human greatness ; for in him it seemed 
 inseparable from goodness. If vanity stood abashed 
 in his presence, it was not, that he rebuked it ; but 
 that his example showed its utter nothingness. 
 
 He was a man of deep sensibility and tenderness ; 
 nay, he was an enthusiast in regard to the domestic 
 virutes. He was endowed by nature with a temper 
 of great susceptibility, easily excited, and warm, when 
 roused. But it had been so schooled by discipline, or 
 rather so moulded and chastened by his affections, 
 that it seemed in gentleness, like the distilling dews 
 of evening. It had been so long accustomed to flow 
 in channels, where its sole delight was to give or 
 secure happiness to others, that no one would have 
 believed, that it could ever have been precipitate or 
 sudden in its movements. In truth, there was, to the 
 
^ 54 
 
 very close of his life, a romantic chivalry in his feel- 
 ings, which, though rarely displayed, except in the 
 circle of his most intimate friends, would there pour 
 out itself with the most touching tenderness. In this 
 confidential intercourse, when his soul sought solace 
 from the sympathy of other minds, he would dissolve 
 in tears at the recollection of some buried hope, or 
 lost happiness. He would break out into strains of 
 almost divine eloquence, while he pointed out the 
 scenes of former joys, or recalled the memory of other 
 days, as he brought up their images from the dimness 
 and distance of forgotten years, and showed you at 
 once the depth, with which he could feel, and the 
 lower depths, in which he could bury his own closest, 
 dearest, noblest emotions. After all, whatever may 
 be his fame in the eyes of the world, that, which, in a 
 just sense, was his highest glory, was the purity, 
 affectionateness, liberality, and devotedness of his 
 domestic life. Home, home, was the scene of his real 
 triumphs. There, he indulged himself in what he 
 most loved, the duties and the blessings of the family 
 circle. There, his heart had its full play ; and his 
 social qualities, warmed, and elevated, and refined by 
 the habitual elegancies of taste, shed around their 
 beautiful and blended lights. There, the sunshine of 
 his soul diffused its softened radiance, and cheered, 
 and soothed, and tranquillized the passing hours. 
 
 May I be permitted also in this presence to allude 
 to another trait in his character, which lets us at once 
 into the inmost recesses of his feelings with an uner- 
 ring certainty. I allude to the high value, in which 
 he held the female sex, as the friends, the companions, 
 and the equals of man. I do not here mean to refer 
 to the courtesy and delicate kindness, with which he 
 
55 
 
 was accustomed to treat the sex ; but rather to the 
 unaffected respect, with which he spoke of their accom- 
 plishments, their talents, their virtues, and their ex- 
 cellencies. The scoffs and jeers of the morose, the 
 bitter taunts of the satirist, and the lighter ridicule of 
 the witty, so profusely, and often so ungenerously, 
 poured out upon transient follies or fashions, found 
 no sympathy in his bosom. He was still farther above 
 the common place flatteries, by which frivolity seeks 
 to administer aliment to personal vanity, or vice to 
 make its approaches for baser purples. He spoke to 
 the sex, when present, as he spoke of them, when 
 absent, in language of just appeal to their understand- 
 ings, their tastes, and their duties. He paid a volun- 
 tary homage to their genius, and to the beautiful 
 productions of it, which now adorn almost every 
 branch of literature and learning. He read those 
 productions with a glowing gratitude. He proudly 
 proclaimed their merits, and vindicated on all occasions 
 their claims to the highest distinction. And he did 
 not hesitate to assign to the great female authors 
 of our day a rank, not inferior to that of the most 
 gifted and polished of the other sex. But, above all, 
 he delighted to dwell on the admirable adaptation of 
 their minds, and sensibilities, and affections to the ex- 
 alted duties assigned to them by Providence. Their 
 superior purity, their singleness of heart, their exqui- 
 site perception of moral and religious sentiment, their 
 maternal devotedness, their uncomplaining sacrifices, 
 their fearlessness in duty, their buoyancy in hope, 
 their courage in despair, their love, which triumphs 
 most, when most pressed by dangers and difficulties ; 
 which watches the couch of sickness, and smooths the 
 bed of death, and smiles even in the agonies of its own 
 
^56 
 
 suflferings ; — These, these were the favorite topics of 
 his confidential conversation ; and on these he expa- 
 tiated with an enthusiasm, which showed them to be 
 present in his daily meditations. 
 
 I have hitherto spoken of traits of character, belong- 
 ing in a great measure to his private life. Upon his 
 public life we may look with equal satisfaction. It 
 was without stain or blemish. It requires no conceal- 
 ment or apology ; and may defy the most critical and 
 searching scrutiny. He was never seduced by the 
 allurements of offke to a desertion of his principles. 
 He was never deterred from an open vindication of 
 them by popular clamor, or party cabal ; by thefrowns 
 of power, or the fury of mobs. His ambition took a 
 loftier range. He aspired to that fame, which is en- 
 during, and may justly be conferred by future ages ; 
 not to that fame, which swells with the triumphs of 
 the day, and dies away, long before it can reach 
 the rising generation. To him might be applied the 
 /^ language of another great magistrate* — He wished for 
 popularity ; that popularity, which follows, not that, 
 which is run after ; that popularity, which, sooner or 
 later, never fails to do justice to the pursuit of noble 
 ends by noble means. He would not do, what his 
 conscience told him was wrong, to gain the huzzas of 
 thousands, or the daily praise of all the papers, which 
 came from the press. He would not avoid to do, what 
 he thought was right, though it should draw on him 
 the whole artillery of libels ; all that falsehood or 
 ■ malice could invent, or the credulity of a deluded 
 populace could swallow. 
 
 There was throughout his political life a steadfast- 
 
 ^ 
 
 I.ord Mansfield, 4 Burr. R. 2562. 
 
57 
 
 ness and consistency of principle as striking, as they 
 were elevating. During more than half a century of 
 public service, he maintained with inflexible integrity 
 the same political principles, with which he begun. 
 He was content to live by, with, and /or his principles. 
 Amidst the extravagancies of parties at different times, 
 he kept on the even tenor of his way with a calm and 
 undeviating firmness, never bending under the pressure 
 of adversity, or bounding with the elasticity of success. 
 His counsels were always the counsels of moderation, 
 fortified and tried by the results of an enlightened ex- 
 perience. They never betrayed either timidity or 
 rashness. He was, in the original, genuine sense of 
 the word, a Federalist — a Federalist of the good old 
 school, of which Washington was the acknowledged 
 head, and in which he lived and died^ In the mainte- 
 nance of the principles of that school he was ready at 
 all times to stand forth a determined advocate and 
 supporter. On this subject he scorned all disguise ; 
 he affected no change of opinion ; he sought no shelter 
 from reproach. He boldly, frankly, andhonestl}' avow- 
 ed himself, through evil report and good report, the 
 disciple, the friend, and the admirer of Washington and 
 his political principles. He had lived in times, when 
 these principles seemed destined to secure to the 
 party, to which he belonged, an enduring triumph. 
 He had lived to see all these prospects blasted ; and 
 other statesmen succeed with a power and influ- 
 ence of such vast extent, that it extinguished all 
 hopes of any future return to office. Yet he remained 
 unshaken, unseduced, unterrified. He had lived to 
 see many of his old friends pass on the other side ; 
 and the gallant band, with which he had borne the 
 strife, drop away by death, one after another, until it 
 
 8 
 
^ 58 
 
 seemed reduced to a handful. Yet he uttered neither 
 a sigh, nor a complaint. When, under extraordinary 
 excitements in critical times, others, with whom he 
 had acted, despaired of the Republic, and were will- 
 ing to yield it up to a stern necessity, he resisted the 
 impulse, and clung to the Union, and nailed its colors 
 to the mast of the Constitution. 
 
 It is no part of my duty or design upon the present 
 occasion to expound, or vindicate his political opinions. 
 That would of itself furnish ample materials for a dis- 
 course of a different character. But it is due to truth 
 to declare, that no man was ever more sincerely at- 
 tached to the principles of free government ; no man 
 ever cherished republican institutions with more sin- 
 gleness of heart and purpose ; no man ever adhered to 
 his country with a stronger filial affection ; no man in 
 his habits, manners, feelings, pursuits, and actions, 
 ever exemplified more perfectly that idol of chivalry, a 
 patriot without fear and without reproach. But, on 
 the other hand, no man was ever more sensible of the 
 dangers incident to free institutions, and especially of 
 those, which threaten our national existence. He saw 
 and felt, where the weaknesses of the Republic lay. 
 He wished, earnestly wished, perpetuity to the Con- 
 stitution, as the only solid foundation of our national 
 glory and independence. But he foresaw what our 
 course would be ; and he never hesitated to express, 
 what his fears were, and whence the ruin of the Consti- 
 tution must come, if it shall come at all. In his view, 
 the Republic is not destined to perish, if it shall 
 perish, by the overwhelming power of the National 
 Government ; but by the resisting and counteracting 
 power of the State sovereignties. He thought with 
 another kindred mind, whose vivid language still rings 
 
59 
 
 in my ears after many years, as a voice from the dead, 
 that in our Government the centrifugal force is far 
 greater than the centripetal ; that the danger is not, 
 that we shall fall into the sun ; but that we may fly oft" 
 in eccentric orbits, and never return to our perihelion. 
 Whether his prophetic fears were ill or well founded, 
 Time alone can decide ; — Time, which sweeps away 
 the schemes of man's invention ; but leaves immova- 
 ble on their foundations the eternal truths of nature. 
 
 Hitherto, I have spoken of the attributes belonging 
 to his moral character, and the principles, which 
 governed his life and conduct. On these, I confess, 
 that I dwell with a fond and reverential enthusiasm. 
 There was a daily beauty in these, which captivated 
 the more, the nearer they were approached, and the 
 more they were gazed on. Like the softened plays of 
 moonlight, they served to illuminate all objects, at the 
 same time, that they mellowed and harmonized them. 
 But, I am admonished, that the duties of the present 
 occasion require me to dwell rather on his intellectual, 
 than his moral qualities. He stands before us rather 
 as the head of a learned profession, than as a private 
 citizen, or as a statesman. 
 
 He was a great man. I do not mean by this, that 
 among his contemporaries he was justly entitled to a 
 high rank for his intellectual endowments, an equal 
 among the master spirits of the day, i^ not facile prin- 
 ceps. I go farther; and insist, that he would have 
 been deemed a great man in any age, and of all ages. 
 He was one of those, to whom centuries alone give 
 birth ; standing out, like beacon lights on the loftiest 
 eminences, to guide, admonish, and instruct future 
 generations, as well as the present. It did not happen 
 to him, as it has happened to many men of celebrity, 
 
^ 60 
 
 that he appeared greatest at a distance ; that his superi- 
 ority vanished on a close survey ; and that familiarity 
 brought it down to the standard of common minds. 
 On the contrary, it required some degree of intimacy 
 fully to appreciate his powers ; and those, w^ho knew 
 him best, and saw him most, had daily reason to won- 
 der at the vast extent and variety of his intellectual 
 resources. 
 
 His genius was rather contemplative, than imagina- 
 tive. It seemed not so much to give direction to his 
 other intellectual powers, as to receive its lead from 
 them. He devoted himself principally to serious and 
 profound studies ; and employed his invention rather 
 to assist philosophical analysis, than to gather materials 
 for ornament, for persuasion, or for picturesque effect. 
 In strength, and depth, and comprehensiveness of mind, 
 it would be difficult to name his superior. He sought 
 for truths far beyond the boundaries, to which inquisi- 
 tive and even ambitious minds are accustomed to push 
 their inquiries. He traced them out from their first 
 dim lights and paly glinimers, until they stood em- 
 bodied before him with a clear and steady brightness. 
 His sagacity was as untiring, as it was acute ; and he 
 saw the conclusion ui' his premises at such vast dis- 
 tances, and through such vast reaches of intermediate 
 results, that it burst upon other minds as a sort of 
 instant, and miraculous induction. It was said by a 
 distinguished political opponent, who had often felt 
 the powder of his reasoning, that he made it a rule in 
 argument, never to admit any proposition asserted by 
 the Chief Justice, however plain and unquestionable 
 it might seem to be ; for, if the premises were once 
 admitted, the conclusion, however apparently remote, 
 flowed on with an irresistible certainty. His powers 
 
61 
 
 of analysis were, indeed, marvellous. He separated 
 the accidental from the essential circumstances with 
 a subtilty and exactness, which surprised those most, 
 who were accustomed to its exercise. No error in 
 reasoning escaped his detection. He followed it 
 through all its doublings, until it became palpable, 
 and stripped of all its disguises. But, what seemed 
 peculiarly his own, was the power, with which he 
 seized upon a principle or argument, apparently pre- 
 sented in the most elementary form, and showed it to 
 be a mere corollary of some more general truth, which 
 lay at immeasurable distances beyond it. If his mind 
 had been less practical, he would have been the most 
 consummate of metaphysicians, and the most skilful of 
 sophists. But his love of dialectics was constantly 
 controlled by his superior love of truth. He had no 
 vain ambition to darken counsel, or encourage doubt. 
 His aim was conscientiously to unfold truth, as it was, 
 in its simple majesty ; to strengthen the foundation of 
 moral, religious, social, political, and legal obligations; 
 and to employ the gifts, with which Providence had en- 
 trusted him, to augment human happiness, support hu- 
 man justice, and bind together in an indissoluble union 
 the great interests of human society. In short, if I 
 were called upon to say, in what he intellectually ex- 
 celled most men, I should say it was in wisdom, in the 
 sense already alluded to ; — a wisdom drawn from large, 
 extensive, sound principles and various researches ; — 
 a wisdom, w^hich constantly accumulated new materials 
 for thought and action, and as constantly sifted and re- 
 fined the old. He was not ambitious of literary dis- 
 tinction. But his great work on the life of Washington 
 shows his capacity for historical composition in the most 
 favorable light. It will for ever remain a monument of 
 
^ 62 
 
 his skill, sound judgment, and strict impartiality ; and 
 must in the future, as in the past, be a standard au- 
 thority for all other historians. 
 
 In contemplating his professional career it cannot for 
 a moment be doubted, that he must have occupied the 
 foremost rank among Advocates. Such accordingly 
 has been his reputation transmitted to us by his con- 
 temporaries at the bar. From what has been already 
 said, his powers of argument must have ensured him 
 entire success. In his manner he was earnest, impres- 
 sive, deliberative ; but at the same time far more in- 
 tent on his matter, than his manner. Never having 
 known him, while he was at the bar, I should have si- 
 lently drawn the conclusion, that his forensic arguments 
 were more distinguished for masculine sense, solid rea- 
 soning, and forcible illustration, than for impassioned 
 appeals, or touching pathos, even when the latter might 
 fairly enlist the judgment of an advocate. But there 
 have been times in private conversations and conferen- 
 ces, in which he has been roused by the interest of the 
 subject to such a glowing strain of animated reasoning, 
 that I am convinced, that he was no stranger to appeals 
 to the heart ; and that, when he chose, he could call 
 up from the very depths of the soul its most powerful 
 feelings. 
 
 In regard to Eloquence, if by that be merely meant, 
 an ornamented diction, splendor of style, impassioned 
 delivery, and fine flourishes of rhetoric, it could scarce- 
 ly be said to belong to his forensic addresses. In the 
 view of such a mind as his, there were graver duties 
 to be performed, and more important interests to be 
 secured. He loved the law, as a science, and not as a 
 trade ; and felt the full dignity of being a minister at 
 its altars. He deemed himself under deep responsi- 
 
63 
 
 bility, not to his client alone, but to the court, and to 
 the cause of public justice. He studied to know, what 
 the precepts of the law were, that he might apply them 
 to his cause, and not to pervert them to aid the triumph 
 of injustice, or to swell the trophies of cunning, or ava- 
 rice, or profligacy. His notions of professional morals 
 and obligations were far different from such mean and 
 debasing palterings with conscience. He argued for 
 the law, and with the law, and from the law. He dis- 
 dained to mislead the court or jury, if he could ; and 
 he gave to both on all occasions the support and the in- 
 struction of his ample studies. 
 
 But if by Eloquence be meant the power to address 
 other men's minds in language expressive and lumi- 
 nous ; to present the proper topics of argument in 
 their just order and fullness ; to convince the under- 
 standing by earnest and sententious appeals ; and by 
 the force of reasoning, to disarm prejudices, to subdue 
 passions, and to dissipate popular delusions ; — if 
 these be the attributes of eloquence, then, indeed, 
 few men might more justly aspire to such a distinc- 
 tion. I would not claim for him, that he possessed 
 the power to seduce men's understandings by persua- 
 sive insinuations, or honied accents ; but I affirm, that 
 he withdrew their understandings from the potency of 
 such artifices, so that they fell lifeless at his feet ; — 
 telumque imbelle sine ictu. To him may unhesitat- 
 ingly be applied the language of Cicero, pronounced 
 upon one of the greatest lawyers of Rome, that he 
 possessed a mastery of the highest art of oratory ; 
 the art of analyzing, defining, and illustrating a sub- 
 ject ; separating the true from the false ; and deduc- 
 ing from each the appropriate consequences ; — 
 artem, quae doceret rem universam tribuere in partes, 
 
^ 64 
 
 latentem explicare definiendo, obscurain explanare 
 interpretando ; ambigua primum videre, deinde dis- 
 tinguere ; postremo, habere regulam, qua vera et 
 falsa jiidicarentur ; et qiuB, quibus positis, essent, 
 qu3eque non essent, consequentia. Hie enim attulit 
 banc artem, omnium artium maximam, quasi lucem, 
 ad ea, quae confuse ab aliis aut respondebantur, aut 
 agebantur.* 
 
 But it is principally upon his character as a Magis- 
 trate, presiding over the highest tribunal of the 
 Nation, that the solid fabric of his fame must rest. 
 And there let it rest ; for the foundations are deep, 
 and the superstructure fitted for immortality. Time, 
 which is perpetually hurrying into a common oblivion 
 the flatterers of kings, and the flatterers of the people, 
 the selfish demagogues, and the wary courtiers, serves 
 but to make true greatness better known, by dissolving 
 the mists of prejudice and passion, which for a while 
 conceal its true glory. The life of the Chief Justice 
 extended over a space rare in the annals of jurispru- 
 dence ; and still more rare is such a life, with the 
 accompaniment of increasing reputation. There was 
 nothing accidental or adventitious in his judicial charac- 
 ter. It grew by its own native strength, unaided by the 
 sunshine of power, and unchecked by cold neglect, or 
 unsparing indifference. The life of Lord Mansfield 
 was one of the longest and most splendid in the juridi- 
 cal history of England. That of the Chief Justice was 
 longer, and may fairly rival it in the variety of its 
 labors, in the glory of its achievements, and in its 
 rapid advancement of the science of jurisprudence. 
 
 The Chief Justiceship of the United States is a sta- 
 tion full of perplexing duties, and delicate responsibili- 
 
 * Cicero De Clar. Oiator. Cap. 41. 
 
65 
 
 ties, and requiring qualities so various, as well as so 
 high, that no man, conscious of human infirmity, can 
 fail to approach it with extreme diffidence and distrust 
 of his own competency. It is the very post, where 
 weakness, and ignorance, and timidity must instantly 
 betray themselves, and sink to their natural level. It 
 is difficult even for the profession at large fully to 
 appreciate the extent of the labors, the various at- 
 tainments, the consummate learning, and the exquisite 
 combination of moral qualities, which are demanded to 
 fill it worthily. ' It has hitherto been occupied only by 
 the highest class of minds, which had been trained 
 and disciplined by a long course of public and profes- 
 sional service for its functions. Jay, Ellsworth, and 
 Marshall, have been the incumbents for the whole pe- 
 riod since the adoption of the Constitution ; and their 
 extraordinary endowments have in a great measure 
 concealed from the public gaze the dangers and the 
 difficulties of this dazzling vocation. 
 
 There is nothing in the jurisprudence of the States, 
 which affords any parallel or measure of the labors of 
 the National Courts. The jurisprudence of each 
 State is homogeneous in its materials. It deals with in- 
 stitutions of a uniform character. It discusses questions 
 of a nature familiar to the thoughts and employments of 
 the whole profession. The learned advocate, who 
 finds himself transferred, by public favor or superior 
 ability, from the state bar to the state bench, finds 
 the duties neither new, nor embarrassing in their ele- 
 ments or details. He passes over ground, where the 
 pathways are known and measured ; and he finds 
 pleasure in retracing their windings and their pas- 
 sages. He may exclaim with the poet, Juvat iterare 
 
 9 
 
0(5 
 
 labores ; ynd he indulges a sate and generous confi- 
 dence in his own juridical attainments. 
 
 How different is the case in the National Courts ! 
 With whatever affluence of learning a Judge may 
 come there, he finds himself at once in a scene full of 
 distressing novelties and varieties of thought. Instead 
 of the jurisprudence of a single State, in w^hich he has 
 been educated and trained, he is at once plunged into 
 the jurisprudence of twenty-four States, essentially dif- 
 fering in habits, laws, institutions, and principles of de- 
 cision. He is compelled to become a student of doc- 
 trines, to which he has hitherto been an entire 
 stranger ; and the very language, in which those 
 doctrines are sometimes expressed, is in the truest 
 sense to him an unknown tongue. The words seem 
 to belong to the dialect of his native language ; but 
 other meanings are attached to them, either so new, or 
 so qualified, that he is embarrassed at every step of 
 his progress. Nay ; he is required in some measure 
 to forget in one cause, what he has learned in another, 
 from its inapplicability or local impropriety ; and new 
 statutes, perpetually accumulating on every side, seem 
 to snatch from his grasp the principles of local law% 
 at the moment, when he is beginning to congratulate 
 himself upon the possession of them. Independent of 
 this complicated intermixture of State Jurisprudence, he 
 is compelled to master the whole extent of Admiralty 
 and Prize Law ; the public and private Law of Nations ; 
 and the varieties of English and American Equity 
 Jurisprudence. To these confessedly Herculean la- 
 bors he must now add some reasonable knowledge of 
 the Civil Law, and of the Jurisprudence of France and 
 Spain, as they break upon him from the sunny regions 
 of the farthest South. Nor is this all ; (though much 
 
67 
 
 of what has been already stated must be new to his 
 thoughts) he must gather up the positive regulations 
 of the statutes and treaties of the National Govern- 
 ment, and the silent and implied results of its sove- 
 reignty and action. He must finally expand his 
 studies to that most important branch of National 
 Jurisprudence, the exposition of constitutional law, 
 demanding, as it does, a comprehensiveness of thought, 
 a calmness of judgment, and a diligence of research, 
 (not to speak of other qualities,) which cannot be con- 
 templated without the most anxious apprehensions of 
 failure. When these various duties are considered, 
 it is scarcely too much to say, that they present the 
 same discouraging aspect of the National Jurispru- 
 dence, which Sir Henry Spelman has so feelingly pro- 
 claimed of the municipal jurisprudence of England, 
 in his day ; — Molem, non ingentem solum, sed per- 
 petuis humeris sustinendam. 
 
 These, however, are but a part of the qualifications 
 required of the man, who holds the office of Chief Jus- 
 tice. He must also possess other rare accomplishments, 
 which are required of one, who, as the Head of the 
 Court, is to preside over its public deliberations, and 
 its private confidential conferences. Patience, mode- 
 ration, candor, urbanity, quickness of perception, 
 dignity of deportment, gentleness of manners, genius, 
 which commands respect, and learning, which justifies 
 confidence ; — These seem indispensable qualifications 
 to fill up the outlines of the character. While I was 
 yet shadowing them out in my own mind, my eyes in- 
 sensibly turned (as it were) to the Judicial Hall at 
 Washington, and to the very Chair appropriated to 
 the office. The venerable form of Marshall seemed 
 still seated there ! — It was but a momentary dream ; 
 
68 
 
 — I awoke ; and found, that I had but sketched the 
 first lines of his portrait. 
 
 Yes, this great and good man was all, that we could 
 ask, or even desire for the station. He seemed the 
 very personation of Justice itself, as he ministered at 
 its altars — in the presence of the nation — within the 
 very walls, which had often echoed back the unsurpass- 
 ed eloquence of the dead, of Dexter, and Pinkney, and 
 Emmett, and Wirt, and of the living also, nameless 
 here, but whose names will swell on the voices of a 
 thousand generations. Enter but that hall, and you 
 saw him listening with a quiet, easy dignity to the dis- 
 cussions at the bar ; silent, serious, searching ; with a 
 keenness of thought, which sophistry could not mis- 
 lead, or error confuse, or ingenuity delude ; with a 
 benignity of aspect, which invited the modest to move 
 on with confidence ; with a conscious firmness of pur- 
 pose, which repressed arrogance, and overawed decla- 
 mation. You heard him pronounce the opinion of the 
 Court in a low but modulated voice, unfolding in lumi- 
 nous order every topic of argument, trying its strength, 
 and measuring its value, until you felt yourself in the 
 presence of the very oracle of the law. You heard, 
 (if I may adopt the language applied to another great 
 magistrate on a like occasion) you " heard principles 
 stated, reasoned upon, enlarged, and explained, until 
 you were lost in admiration at the strength and stretch 
 of the human understanding."* Follow him into the 
 conference room, a scene of not less difficult or deli- 
 cate duties, and you would observe the same presiding 
 genius, the same kindness, attentiveness, and defer- 
 ence ; and, yet, when the occasion required, the same 
 
 * Mr. Justice Buller, speaking of Lord Mansfield, in Lickbarrow v. Mason, 
 2 Tei in Hep. "3. 
 
69 
 
 power of illustration, the same minuteness of research, 
 the same severity of logic, and the same untiring ac- 
 curacy in facts and principles. 
 
 It may be truly said of him, as it was of Lord 
 Mansfield, that he excelled in the statement of a case ; 
 so much so, that it was almost of itself an argument. 
 If it did not at once lead the hearer to the proper 
 conclusion, it prepared him to assent to it, as soon as 
 it was announced. Nay more ; it persuaded him, that 
 it must be right, however repugnant it might be to his 
 preconceived notions. Perhaps no Judge ever ex- 
 celled him in the capacity to hold a legal proposition 
 before the eyes of others in such various forms and 
 colors. It seemed a pleasure to him to cast the dark- 
 est shades of objection over it, that he might show, 
 how they could be dissipated by a single glance of 
 light. He would by the most subtile analysis resolve 
 every argument into its ultimate principles, and then 
 with a marvellous facility apply them to the decision 
 of the cause. 
 
 That he possessed an uncommon share of juridical 
 learning, would naturally be presumed, from his large 
 experience and inexhaustible diligence. Yet it is due 
 to truth, as well as to his memory to declare, that his 
 juridical learning was not equal to that of many of the 
 great masters in the profession, living or dead, at home 
 or abroad. He yielded at once to their superiority of 
 knowledge, as well in the modern as in the ancient 
 law. He adopted the notion of Lord Bacon, that 
 " studies serve for delight, for ornament, and for abili- 
 ty," — " in the judgment and disposition of business." 
 The latter was his favorite object. Hence he "read 
 not to contradict and confute ; nor to believe and take 
 for granted ; nor to find talk and discourse ; but to 
 
^ 70 
 
 weigh and consider." And he followed another sug- 
 gestion of that great man, that "Judges ought to be 
 more learned, than witty ; more reverend, than plau- 
 sible ; and more advised, than confident." The origi- 
 nal bias, as well as choice, of his mind was to general 
 principles, and comprehensive views, rather than to 
 technical, or recondite learning. He loved to expa- 
 tiate upon the theory of equity ; to gather up the ex- 
 pansive doctrines of commercial jurisprudence ; and 
 to give a rational cast even to the most subtile dogmas 
 of the common law. He was solicitous to hear argu- 
 ments ; and not to decide causes without them. And 
 no Judge ever profited more by them. No matter, 
 whether the subject was new or old ; familiar to his 
 thoughts, or remote from them ; buried under a mass 
 of obsolete learning, or developed for the first time 
 yesterday ; whatever was its nature, he courted argu- 
 ment, nay, he demanded it. It was matter of surprise 
 to see, how easily he grasped the leading principles of 
 a case, and cleared it of all its accidental incumbran- 
 ces ; how readily he evolved the true points of the 
 controversy, even when it was manifest, that he never 
 before had caught even a glimpse of the learning, 
 upon which it depended. He seized, as it were by in- 
 tuition, the very spirit of juridical doctrines, though 
 cased up in the armor of centuries ; and he discussed 
 authorities, as if the very minds of the Judges them- 
 selves stood disembodied before him. 
 
 But his peculiar triumph was in the exposition of 
 constitutional law. It was here, that he stood confes- 
 sedly without a rival, whether we regard his thorough 
 knowledge of our civil and political history, his 
 admirable powers of illustration and generalization, 
 his scrupulous integrity and exactness in interpreta- 
 
71 
 
 tion, or his consummate skill in moulding his own ge- 
 nius into its elements, as if they had constituted the 
 exclusive study of his life. His proudest epitaph may 
 be written in a single line — Here lies the Expounder 
 of the Constitution of the United States. a^ 
 
 I am aware of the force of this language ; and have 
 no desire to qualify it. The task, which he had to 
 perform, was far different from that, which belongs to 
 the debates in other places, where topics may be 
 chosen, and pressed, or avoided, as the occasion may 
 require. In the forum there is no choice of topics to 
 be urged ; there are no passions to be addressed ; 
 there are no interests to be courted. Critical inqui- 
 ries, nice discriminations, severe inductions, and pro- 
 gressive demonstrations are demanded upon the very 
 points, on which the controversy hinges. Every ob- 
 jection must be met, and sifted, and answered, not by 
 single flashes of thought, but by the closest logic, rea- 
 soning out every successive position with a copious 
 and convincing accuracy. 
 
 Let it be remembered, that, when Chief Justice 
 Marshall first took his seat on the Bench, scarcely 
 more than two or three questions of constitutional law 
 had ever engaged the attention of the Supreme Court. 
 As a science, constitutional law was then confessedly 
 new ; and that portion of it, in an especial manner, 
 which may be subjected to judicial scrutiny, had been 
 explored by few minds, even in the most general 
 forms of inquiry. Let it be remembered, that in the 
 course of his judicial life, numerous questions of a 
 practical nature, and involving interests of vast mag- 
 nitude, have been constantly before the Court, where 
 there was neither guide, nor authority ; but all was 
 to be wrought out by general principles. Let it be 
 
72 
 
 remembered, that texts, which scarcely cover the 
 breadth of a finger, have been since interpreted, ex- 
 plained, limited, and adjusted by judicial commenta- 
 ries, which are now expanded into volumes. Let it 
 be remembered, that the highest learning, genius, and 
 eloquence of the bar, have been employed to raise 
 doubts, and fortify objections ; that State sovereignties 
 ha\^e stood impeached in their legislation ; and rights 
 of the most momentous nature have been suspended 
 upon the issue ; that, under such circumstances, the 
 infirmities of false reasoning, the glosses of popular 
 appeal, the scattered fire of irregular and inconclusive 
 assertion, and the want of comprehensive powers of 
 analysis, had no chance to escape the instant detec- 
 tion of the profession ; — Let these things (I say) be 
 remembered ; and who does not at once perceive, 
 that the task of expounding the Constitution, under 
 such circumstances, required almost superhuman abili- 
 ties ? V" It demanded a mind, in which vast reaches of 
 thought should be combined with patience of investi- 
 gation, sobriety of judgment, fearlessness of conse- 
 quences, and mastery of the principles of interpreta- 
 tion, to an extent rarely belonging to the most gifted 
 of our race. ^ 
 
 How this gigantic task of expounding the Constitu- 
 tion was met and executed by Chief Justice Marshall, 
 let the Profession, let the Public, decide. Situated 
 as I am, I may not speak for others upon such an oc- 
 casion. But having sat by his side during twenty-four 
 years ; having witnessed his various constitutional 
 labors ; having heard many of those exquisite judg- 
 ments, the fruits of his own unassisted meditations, 
 from which the Court has derived so much honor ; — 
 et nos aliquod nomenque decusque gessimus ; — I 
 
73 
 
 confess myself unable to find language sufiiciently ex- 
 pressive of my admiration and reverence of his trans- 
 cendent genius. While I have followed his footsteps, 
 not as I could have wished, but as I have been able, 
 at humble distances, in his splendid judicial career, I 
 have constantly felt the liveliest gratitude to that be- 
 neficent Providence, which created him for the age, 
 that his talents might illustrate the law, his virtues 
 adorn the bench, and his judgments establish the per- 
 petuity of the Constitution of thecountry. Such is my 
 humble tribute to his memory. His saltem accumu- 
 lem donis, et fungar inani munere. The praise is sin- 
 cere, though it may be perishable. Not so his fame. 
 It will flow on to the most distant ages. Even if the 
 Constitution of his country should perish, his glorious 
 judgments will still remain to instruct mankind, until 
 liberty shall cease to be a blessing, and the science of 
 jurisprudence shall vanish from the catalogue of human 
 pursuits. 
 
 And this great Magistrate is now gone — gone, as 
 we trust, to the high rewards of such eminent services. 
 It is impossible to reflect, that the places, which once 
 knew him, shall know him no more, without a sense of 
 inexpressible melancholy. When shall we look upon 
 his like again ? When may we again hope to see so 
 much moderation with so much firmness ; so much sa- 
 gacity with so much modesty ; so much learning with 
 so much purity ; so much wisdom with so much 
 gentleness ; so much splendor of talent with so much 
 benevolence ; so much of every thing to love and ad- 
 mire, with nothing, absolutely nothing, to regret ? 
 
 And yet there are some consolations even in so 
 great a loss. Cicero, in mourning over the death of 
 his friend, the great Roman lawyer, Hortensius, did 
 10 
 
^ 74 
 
 not hesitate to pronounce his death fortunate ; for he 
 died at a moment happy for himself, though most un- 
 fortunate for his country. Quoniam perpetua quadam 
 felicitate usus ille, cessit e vita, suo, magis quam 
 suorum civium, tempore. Vixit tam diu quam licuit 
 in civitate bene beateque vivere.* We may well ap- 
 ply the like remark to Chief Justice Marshall. He was 
 not cut off in middle life, in the early maturity of his 
 faculties, while he was yet meditating new plans of 
 usefulness or glory. ' He lived to the very verge of 
 that green old age, after which the physical strength 
 sensibly declines, and the intellectual powers no long- 
 er reach their accustomed limits. He retained, to the 
 very last hour of his life, the possession of all these 
 powers in full perfection, without change — nay, with- 
 out the shadow of change. Such had been his hope, 
 earnestly and frequently expressed to his confidential 
 friends, with deep solicitude ; for no man more than 
 he dreaded to add another to the melancholy lessons : 
 
 " In life's last scenes, what prodigies surprise. 
 Tears of the brave, and follies of the wise." 
 
 We may well rejoice, therefore, that a life, so long 
 and so useful, should have come to its close without 
 any exhibition of human infirmity. The past is now 
 secure. It is beyond the reach of accident. The fu- 
 ture cannot be disturbed by error, or darkened by im- 
 becility. His setting sun loomed out in cloudless 
 splendor, as it sunk below the horizon. The last 
 lights shot up with a soft and balmy transparency, as if 
 the beams, while yet reflected back on this world, were 
 but ushering in the morn of his own immortality. 
 
 j! Cicero De Clnr. Orator. Cap. 1. 
 
 RD - "7 J 
 

DEC 71 
 
 ST. AUGUSTINE 
 
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