6. The National Government and its instrumentalities are present within the States, not by the tolerance of the States, but by the supreme authority of the people of the United States. *

* For the application of Marshall's canons of constitutional interpretation in the field of treaty making, see the writer's "National Supremacy" (N. Y., 1913). Chaps. III and IV.

Of these several principles, the first is obviously the most important and to a great extent the source of the others. It is the principle of which Marshall, in face of the rising tide of State Rights, felt himself to be in a peculiar sense the official custodian. It is the principle which he had in mind in his noble plea at the close of the case of Gibbons vs. Ogden for a construction of the Constitution capable of maintaining its vitality and usefulness:

"Powerful and ingenious minds [run his words], taking as postulates that the powers expressly granted to the Government of the Union are to be contracted by construction into the narrowest possible compass and that the original powers of the States are to be retained if any possible construction will retain them, may by a course of refined and metaphysical reasoning... explain away the Constitution of our country and leave it a magnificent structure indeed to look at, but totally unfit for use. They may so entangle and perplex the understanding as to obscure principles which were before thought quite plain, and induce doubts where, if the mind were to pursue its own course, none would be perceived. In such a case, it is peculiarly necessary to recur to safe and fundamental principles."



CHAPTER VI. The Sanctity Of Contracts

Marshall's work was one of conservation in so far as it was concerned with interpreting the Constitution in accord with the intention which its framers had of establishing an efficient National Government. But he found a task of restoration awaiting him in that great field of Constitutional Law which defines state powers in relation to private rights.

To provide adequate safeguards for property and contracts against state legislative power was one of the most important objects of the framers, if indeed it was not the most important. Consider, for instance, a colloquy which occurred early in the Convention between Madison and Sherman of Connecticut. The latter had enumerated "the objects of Union" as follows: "First, defense against foreign danger; secondly, against internal disputes and a resort to force; thirdly, treaties with foreign nations; fourthly, regulating foreign commerce and drawing revenue from it." To this statement Madison demurred. The objects mentioned were important, he admitted, but he "combined with them the necessity of providing more effectually for the securing of private rights and the steady dispensation of justice. Interferences with these were evils which had, more perhaps than anything else, produced this Convention."

Marshall's sympathy with this point of view we have already noted. * Nor was Madison's reference solely to the then recent activity of state Legislatures in behalf of the much embarrassed but politically dominant small farmer class. He had also in mind that other and more ancient practice of Legislatures of enacting so-called "special legislation," that is, legislation altering under the standing law the rights of designated parties, and not infrequently to their serious detriment. Usually such legislation took the form of an intervention by the Legislature in private controversies pending in, or already decided by, the ordinary courts, with the result that judgments were set aside, executions canceled, new hearings granted, new rules of evidence introduced, void wills validated, valid contracts voided, forfeitures pronounced—all by legislative mandate. Since that day the courts have developed an interpretation of the principle of the separation of powers and have enunciated a theory of "due process of law," which renders this sort of legislative abuse quite impossible; but in 1787, though the principle of the separation of powers had received verbal recognition in several of the state Constitutions, no one as yet knew precisely what the term "legislative power" signified, and at that time judicial review did not exist. * * Hence those who wished to see this nuisance of special legislation abated felt not unnaturally that the relief must come from some source external to the local governments, and they welcomed the movement for a new national Constitution as affording them their opportunity.

* See supra, Chapter II.

* * On special legislation, see the writer's "Doctrine of Judicial Review" (Princeton, 1914), pp. 36-37, 69-71.

The Constitution, in Article I, Section X, forbids the States to "emit bills of credit, make anything but gold and silver a legal tender in payment of debts, pass any bill of attainder, ex post facto law, or law impairing the obligation of contracts." Until 1798, the provision generally regarded as offering the most promising weapon against special legislation was the ex post facto clause. In that year, however, in its decision in Calder vs. Bull the Court held that this clause "was not inserted to secure the citizen in his private rights of either property or contracts," but only against certain kinds of penal legislation. The decision roused sharp criticism and the judges themselves seemed fairly to repent of it even in handing it down. Justice Chase, indeed, even went so far as to suggest, as a sort of stop-gap to the breach they were thus creating in the Constitution, the idea that, even in the absence of written constitutional restrictions, the Social Compact as well as "the principles of our free republican governments" afforded judicially enforcible limitations upon legislative power in favor of private rights. Then, in the years immediately following, several state courts, building upon this dictum, had definitely announced their intention of treating as void all legislation which they found unduly to disturb vested rights, especially if it was confined in its operation to specified parties. *

* In connection with this paragraph, see the writer's article entitled "The Basic Doctrine of American Constitutional Law," in the "Michigan Law Review," February, 1914. Marshall once wrote Story regarding his attitude toward Section X in 1787, as follows: "The questions which were perpetually recurring in the State legislatures and which brought annually into doubt principles which I thought most sacred, which proved that everything was afloat, and that we had no safe anchorage ground, gave a high value in my estimation to that article of the Constitution which imposes restrictions on the States." "Discourse."

Such was still the situation when the case of Fletcher vs. Peck * in 1810 raised before the Supreme Court the question whether the Georgia Legislature had the right to rescind a land grant made by a preceding Legislature. On any of three grounds Marshall might easily have disposed of this case before coming to the principal question. In the first place, it was palpably a moot case; that is to say, it was to the interest of the opposing parties to have the rescinding act set aside. The Court would not today take jurisdiction of such a case, but Marshall does not even suggest such a solution of the question, though Justice Johnson does in his concurring opinion. In the second place, Georgia's own claim to the lands had been most questionable, and consequently her right to grant them to others was equally dubious; but this, too, is an issue which Marshall avoids. Finally, the grant had been procured by corrupt means, but Marshall ruled that this was not a subject the Court might enter upon; and for the ordinary run of cases in which undue influence is alleged to have induced the enactment of a law, the ruling is clearly sound. But this was no ordinary case. The fraud asserted against the grant was a matter of universal notoriety; it was, indeed, the most resounding scandal of the generation; and surely judges may assume to know what is known to all and may act upon their knowledge.

* 6 Cranch, 87.

Furthermore, when one turns to the part of Marshall's opinion which deals with the constitutional issue, one finds not a little evidence of personal predilection on the part of the Chief Justice. He starts out by declaring the rescinding act void as a violation of vested rights, of the underlying principles of society and government, and of the doctrine of the separation of powers. Then he apparently realizes that a decision based on such grounds must be far less secure and much less generally available than one based on the words of the Constitution; whereupon he brings forward the obligation of contracts clause. At once, however, he is confronted with the difficulty that the obligation of a contract is the obligation of a contract still to be fulfilled, and that a grant is an executed contract over and done with—functus officio. This difficulty he meets by asserting that every grant is attended by an implied contract on the part of the grantor not to reassert his right to the thing granted. This, of course, is a palpable fiction on Marshall's part, though certainly not an unreasonable one. For undoubtedly when a grant is made without stipulation to the contrary, both parties assume that it will be permanent.

The greater difficulty arose from the fact that, whether implied or explicit, the contract before the Court was a PUBLIC one. In the case of private contracts it is easy enough to distinguish the contract, as the agreement between the parties, from the obligation of the contract which comes from the law and holds the parties to their engagements. But what law was there to hold Georgia to her supposed agreement not to rescind the grant she had made? Not the Constitution of the United States unattended by any other law, since it protects the obligation only after it has come into existence. Not the Constitution of Georgia as construed by her own courts, since they had sustained the rescinding act. Only one possibility remained; the State Constitution must be the source of the obligation—yes; but the State Constitution as it was construed by the United States Supreme Court in this very case, in the light of the "general principles of our political institutions." In short the obligation is a moral one; and this moral obligation is treated by Marshall as having been converted into a legal one by the United States Constitution.

However, Marshall apparently fails to find entire satisfaction in this argument, for he next turns to the prohibition against bills of attainder and ex post facto laws with a question which manifests disapproval of the decision in Calder vs. Bull. Yet he hesitates to overrule Calder vs. Bull, and, indeed, even at the very end of his opinion he still declines to indicate clearly the basis of his decision. The State of Georgia, he says, "was restrained" from the passing of the rescinding act "either by general principles which are common to our free institutions, or by particular provisions of the Constitution of the United States." It was not until nine years after Fletcher vs. Peck that this ambiguity was cleared up in the Dartmouth College case in 1819.

The case of the Trustees of Dartmouth College vs. Woodward * was a New England product and redolent of the soil from which it sprang. In 1754 the Reverend Eleazar Wheelock of Connecticut had established at his own expense a charity school for instructing Indians in the Christian religion; and so great was his success that he felt encouraged to extend the undertaking and to solicit donations in England. Again success rewarded his efforts; and in 1769 Governor Wentworth of New Hampshire, George III's representative granted the new institution, which was now located at Hanover, New Hampshire, a charter incorporating twelve named persons as "The Trustees of Dartmouth College" with the power to govern the institution, appoint its officers, and fill all vacancies in their own body "forever."

* The following account of this case is based on J. M. Shirley's "Dartmouth College Causes" (St. Louis, 1879) and on the official report, 4 Wheaton, 518.

For many years after the Revolution, the Trustees of Dartmouth College, several of whom were ministers, reflected the spirit of Congregationalism. Though this form of worship occupied almost the position of a state religion in New Hampshire, early in this period difficulties arose in the midst of the church at Hanover. A certain Samuel Hayes, or Haze, told a woman named Rachel Murch that her character was "as black as Hell," and upon Rachel's complaint to the session, he was "churched" for "breach of the Ninth Commandment and also for a violation of his covenant agreement." This incident caused a rift which gradually developed into something very like a schism in the local congregation, and this internal disagreement finally produced a split between Eleazar's son, Dr. John Wheelock, who was now president of Dartmouth College, and the Trustees of the institution. The result was that in August, 1815, the Trustees ousted Wheelock.

The quarrel had thus far involved only Calvinists and Federalists, but in 1816 a new element was brought in by the interference of the Governor of New Hampshire, William Plumer, formerly a Federalist but now, since 1812, the leader of the Jeffersonian party in the State. In a message to the Legislature dated June 6, 1816, Plumer drew the attention of that body to Dartmouth College. "All literary establishments," said he, "like everything human, if not duly attended to, are subject to decay.... As it [the charter of the College] emanated from royalty, it contained, as was natural it should, principles congenial to monarchy," and he cited particularly the power of the Board of Trustees to perpetuate itself. "This last principle," he continued, "is hostile to the spirit and genius of a free government. Sound policy therefore requires that the mode of election should be changed and that Trustees in future should be elected by some other body of men.... The College was formed for the PUBLIC good, not for the benefit or emolument of its Trustees; and the right to amend and improve acts of incorporation of this nature has been exercised by all governments, both monarchical and republican."

Plumer sent a copy of his message to Jefferson and received a characteristic answer in reply "It is replete," said the Republican sage, "with sound principles.... The idea that institutions established for the use of the nation cannot be touched nor modified, even to make them answer their end... is most absurd.... Yet our lawyers and priests generally inculcate this doctrine, and suppose that preceding generations held the earth more freely than we do; had a right to impose laws on us, unalterable by ourselves;... in fine, that the earth belongs to the dead and not to the living." And so, too, apparently the majority of the Legislature believed; for by the measure which it promptly passed, in response to Plumer's message, the College was made Dartmouth University, the number of its trustees was increased to twenty-one, the appointment of the additional members being given to the Governor, and a board of overseers, also largely of gubernatorial appointment, was created to supervise all important acts of the trustees.

The friends of the College at once denounced the measure as void under both the State and the United States Constitution and soon made up a test case. In order to obtain the college seal, charter, and records, a mandate was issued early in 1817 by a local court to attach goods, to the value of $50,000, belonging to William H. Woodward, the Secretary and Treasurer of the "University." This was served by attaching a chair "valued at one dollar." The story is also related that authorities of the College, apprehending an argument that the institution had already forfeited its charter on account of having ceased to minister to Indians, sent across into Canada for some of the aborigines, and that three were brought down the river to receive matriculation, but becoming panic-stricken as they neared the town, leaped into the water, swam ashore, and disappeared in the forest. Unfortunately this interesting tale has been seriously questioned.

The attorneys of the College before the Superior Court were Jeremiah Mason, one of the best lawyers of the day, Jeremiah Smith, a former Chief Justice of New Hampshire, and Daniel Webster. These three able lawyers argued that the amending act exceeded "the rightful ends of legislative power," violated the principle of the separation of powers, and deprived the trustees of their "privileges and immunities" contrary to the "law of the land" clause of the State Constitution, and impaired the obligation of contracts. The last contention stirred Woodward's attorneys, Bartlett and Sullivan, to ridicule. "By the same reasoning," said the latter, "every law must be considered in the nature of a contract, until the Legislature would find themselves in such a labyrinth of contracts, with the United States Constitution over their heads, that not a subject would be left within their jurisdiction"; the argument was an expedient of desperation, he said, a "last straw." The principal contention advanced in behalf of the Act was that the College was "a public corporation," whose "various powers, capacities, and franchises all... were to be exercised for the benefit of the public," and were therefore subject to public control. And the Court, in sustaining the Act, rested its decision on the same ground. Chief Justice Richardson conceded the doctrine of Fletcher vs. Peck, that the obligation of contracts clause "embraced all contracts relating to private property, whether executed or executory, and whether between individuals, between States, or between States and individuals," but, he urged, "a distinction is to be taken between particular grants by the Legislature of property or privileges to individuals for their own benefit, and grants of power and authority to be exercised for public purposes." Its public character, in short, left the College and its holdings at the disposal of the Legislature.

Of the later proceedings, involving the appeal to Washington and the argument before Marshall, early in March, 1818, tradition has made Webster the central and compelling figure, and to the words which it assigns him in closing his address before the Court has largely been attributed the great legal triumph which presently followed. The story is, at least, so well found that the chronicler of Dartmouth College vs. Woodward who should venture to omit it must be a bold man indeed.

"The argument ended [runs the tale], Mr. Webster stood for some moments silent before the Court, while every eye was fixed intently upon him. At length, addressing the Chief Justice, he proceeded thus: 'This, sir, is my case. It is the case... of every college in our land.... Sir, you may destroy this little institution.... You may put it out. But if you do so, you must carry through your work! You must extinguish, one after another, all those greater lights of science, which, for more than a century have thrown their radiance over our land. It is, Sir, as I have said, a small college. And yet there are those who love it—'

"Here, the feelings which he had thus far succeeded in keeping down, broke forth, his lips quivered; his firm cheeks trembled with emotion, his eyes filled with tears.... The court-room during these two or three minutes presented an extraordinary spectacle. Chief Justice Marshall, with his tall and gaunt figure bent over, as if to catch the slightest whisper, the deep furrows of his cheek expanded with emotion, and his eyes suffused with tears; Mr. Justice Washington at his side, with small and emaciated frame, and countenance more like marble than I ever saw on any other human being.... There was not one among the strong-minded men of that assembly who could think it unmanly to weep, when he saw standing before him the man who had made such an argument, melted into the tenderness of a child.

"Mr. Webster had now recovered his composure, and, fixing his keen eyes on Chief Justice Marshall, said in that deep tone with which he sometimes thrilled the heart of an audience: 'Sir, I know not how others may feel... but for myself, when I see my Alma Mater surrounded, like Caesar in the Senate house, by those who are reiterating stab after stab, I would not, for my right hand, have her turn to me and say, Et tu quoque mi fili! And thou, too, my son!'"

Whether this extraordinary scene, first described thirty-four years afterward by a putative witness of it, ever really occurred or not, it is today impossible to say. * But at least it would be an error to attribute to it great importance. From the same source we have it that at Exeter, too, Webster had made the judges weep—yet they had gone out and decided against him. Judges do not always decide the way they weep!

* Professor Goodrich of Yale, who is responsible for the story, communicated it to Rufus Choate in 1853. It next appears on Goodrich's authority in Curtis's "Webster," vol. II, pp. 169-71.

Of the strictly legal part of his argument Webster himself has left us a synopsis. Fully three-quarters of it dealt with the questions which had been discussed by Mason before the State Supreme Court under the New Hampshire Constitution and was largely irrelevant to the great point at issue at Washington. Joseph Hopkinson, who was now associated with Webster, contributed far more to the content of Marshall's opinion; yet he, too, left one important question entirely to the Chief Justice's ingenuity, as will be indicated shortly. Fortunately for the College its opponents were ill prepared to take advantage of the vulnerable points of its defense. For some unknown reason, Bartlett and Sullivan, who had carried the day at Exeter, had now given place to William Wirt and John Holmes. Of these the former had just been made Attorney-General of the United States and had no time to give to the case—indeed he admitted that "he had hardly thought of it till it was called on." As for Holmes, he was a "kaleidoscopic politician" and barroom wit, best known to contemporaries as "the noisy eulogist and reputed protege of Jefferson." A remarkable strategy that, which stood such a person up before John Marshall to plead the right of state Legislatures to dictate the fortunes of liberal institutions!

The arguments were concluded on Thursday, the 12th of March. The next morning the Chief Justice announced that the Court had conferred, that there were different opinions, that some of the judges had not arrived at a conclusion, and that consequently the cause must be continued. Webster, however, who was apt to be much in "the know" of such matters, ventured to place the different judges thus: "The Chief and Washington," he wrote his former colleague Smith, "I have no doubt, are with us. Duvall and Todd perhaps against us; the other three holding up—I cannot much doubt but that Story will be with us in the end, and I think we have much more than an even chance for one of the others."

The friends of the College set promptly to work to bring over the wavering judges. To their dismay they learned that Chancellor James Kent of New York, whose views were known to have great weight with Justices Johnson and Livingston, had expressed himself as convinced by Chief Justice Richardson's opinion that Dartmouth College was a public corporation. Fortunately, however, a little ransacking of the records brought to light an opinion which Kent and Livingston had both signed as early as 1803, when they were members of the New York Council of Revision, and which took the ground that a then pending measure in the New York Legislature for altering the Charter of New York City violated "due process of law." At the same time, Charles Marsh, a friend of both Kent and Webster, brought to the attention of the former Webster's argument before Marshall at Washington in March, 1818. Then came a series of conferences at Albany in which Chancellor Kent, Justice Johnson, President Brown of Dartmouth College, Governor Clinton, and others participated. As a result, the Chancellor owned himself converted to the idea that the College was a private institution.

The new term of court opened on Monday, February 1, 1819. William Pinkney, who in vacation had accepted a retainer from the backers of Woodward, that is, of the State, took his stand on the second day near the Chief Justice, expecting to move for a reargument. Marshall, "turning his blind eye" to the distinguished Marylander, announced that the Court had reached a decision, plucked from his sleeve an eighteen folio manuscript opinion, and began reading it. He held that the College was a "private eleemosynary institution"; that its charter was the outgrowth of a contract between the original donors and the Crown, that the trustees represented the interest of the donors, and that the terms of the Constitution were broad enough to cover and protect this representative interest. The last was the only point on which he confessed a real difficulty. The primary purpose of the constitutional clause, he owned, was to protect "contracts the parties to which have a vested beneficial interest" in them, whereas the trustees had no such interest at stake. But, said he, the case is within the words of the rule, and "must be within its operation likewise, unless there be something in the literal construction" obviously at war with the spirit of the Constitution, which was far from the fact. For, he continued, "it requires no very critical examination of the human mind to enable us to determine that one great inducement to these gifts is the conviction felt by the giver that the disposition he makes of them is immutable. All such gifts are made in the pleasing, perhaps delusive hope, that the charity will flow forever in the channel which the givers have marked out for it. If every man finds in his own bosom strong evidence of the universality of this sentiment, there can be but little reason to imagine that the framers of our Constitution were strangers to it, and that, feeling the necessity and policy of giving permanence and security to contracts" generally, they yet deemed it desirable to leave this sort of contract subject to legislative interference. Such is Marshall's answer to Jefferson's outburst against "the dead hand."

Characteristically, Marshall nowhere cites Fletcher vs. Peck in his opinion, but he builds on the construction there made of the "obligation of contracts" clause as clearly as do his associates, Story and Washington, who cite it again and again in their concurring opinion. Thus he concedes that the British Parliament, in consequence of its unlimited power, might at any time before the Revolution have annulled the charter of the College and so have disappointed the hopes of the donors; but, he adds, "THE PERFIDY OF THE TRANSACTION WOULD HAVE BEEN UNIVERSALLY ACKNOWLEDGED." Later on, he further admits that at the time of the Revolution the people of New Hampshire succeeded to "the transcendent power of Parliament," as well as to that of the King, with the result that a repeal of the charter before 1789 could have been contested only under the State Constitution. "But the Constitution of the United States," he continues, "has imposed this additional limitation, that the Legislature of a State shall pass no act 'impairing the obligation of contracts.'" In short, as in Fletcher vs. Peck, what was originally a moral obligation is regarded as having been lifted by the Constitution into the full status of a legal one, and this time without any assistance from "the general principles of our free institutions."

How is the decision of the Supreme Court in the case of Dartmouth College vs. Woodward to be assessed today? Logically the basis of it was repudiated by the Court itself within a decade, albeit the rule it lays down remained unaffected. Historically it is equally without basis, for the intention of the obligation of contracts clause, as the evidence amply shows, was to protect private executory contracts, and especially contracts of debt. * In actual practice, on the other hand, the decision produced one considerable benefit: in the words of a contemporary critic, it put private institutions of learning and charity out of the reach of "legislative despotism and party violence."

* Much of the evidence is readily traceable through the Index to Max Farrand's "Records of the Federal Convention."

But doubtless, the critic will urge, by the same sign this decision also put profit-seeking corporations beyond wholesome legislative control. But is this a fact? To begin with, such a criticism is clearly misdirected. As we have just seen, the New Hampshire Superior Court itself would have felt that Fletcher vs. Peck left it no option but to declare the amending act void, had Dartmouth College been, say, a gas company; and this was in all probability the universal view of bench and bar in 1819. Whatever blame there is should therefore be awarded the earlier decision. But, in the second place, there does not appear after all to be so great measure of blame to be awarded. The opinion in Dartmouth College vs. Woodward leaves it perfectly clear that legislatures may reserve the right to alter or repeal at will the charters they grant. If therefore alterations and repeals have not been as frequent as public policy has demanded, whose fault is it?

Perhaps, however, it will be argued that the real mischief of the decision has consisted in its effect upon the state Legislatures themselves, the idea being that large business interests, when offered the opportunity of obtaining irrepealable charters, have frequently found it worth their while to assail frail legislative virtue with irresistible temptation. The answer to this charge is a "confession in avoidance"; the facts alleged are true enough but hardly to the point. Yet even if they were, what is to be said of that other not uncommon incident of legislative history, the legislative "strike," whereby corporations not protected by irrepealable charters are blandly confronted with the alternative of having their franchises mutilated or of paying handsomely for their immunity? So the issue seems to resolve itself into a question of taste regarding two species of legislative "honesty." Does one prefer that species which, in the words of the late Speaker Reed, manifests itself in "staying bought," or that species which flowers in legislative blackmail? The truth of the matter is that Marshall's decision has been condemned by ill-informed or ill-intentioned critics for evils which are much more simply and much more adequately explained by general human cupidity and by the power inherent in capital. These are evils which have been experienced quite as fully in other countries which never heard of the "obligation of contracts" clause.

The decisions reached in Fletcher vs. Peck and Dartmouth College vs. Woodward are important episodes in a significant phase of American constitutional history. Partly on account of the lack of distinction between legislative and judicial power and partly on account of the influence of the notion of parliamentary sovereignty, legislative bodies at the close of the eighteenth century were the sources of much anonymous and corporate despotism. Even in England as well as in this country the value, and indeed the possibility, of representative institutions had been frankly challenged in the name of liberty. For the United States the problem of making legislative power livable and tolerable—a problem made the more acute by the multiplicity of legislative bodies—was partly solved by the establishment of judicial review. But this was only the first step: legislative power had still to be defined and confined. Marshall's audacity in invoking generally recognized moral principles against legislative sovereignty in his interpretation of the "obligation of contracts" clause pointed the way to the American judiciaries for the discharge of their task of defining legislative power. The final result is to be seen today in the Supreme Court's concept of the police power of a State as a power not of arbitrary but of reasonable legislation.

While Marshall was performing this service in behalf of representative government, he was also aiding the cause of nationalism by accustoming certain types of property to look upon the National Government as their natural champion against the power of the States. In this connection it should also be recalled that Gibbons vs. Ogden and Brown vs. Maryland had advanced the principle of the exclusiveness of Congress's power over foreign and interstate commerce. Under the shelter of this interpretation there developed, in the railroad and transportation business of the country before the Civil War, a property interest almost as extensive as that which supported the doctrine of State Rights. Nor can it be well doubted that Marshall designed some such result or that he aimed to prompt the reflection voiced by King of Massachusetts on the floor of the Federal Convention. "He was filled with astonishment that, if we were convinced that every man in America was secured in all his rights, we should be ready to sacrifice this substantial good to the phantom of STATE sovereignty."

Lastly, these decisions brought a certain theoretical support to the Union. Marshall himself did not regard the Constitution as a compact between the States; if a compact at all, it was a compact among individuals, a social compact. But a great and increasing number of his countrymen took the other view. How unsafe, then, it would have been from the standpoint of one concerned for the integrity of the Union, to distinguish public contracts from private on the ground that the former, in the view of the Constitution, had less obligation!



CHAPTER VII. The Menace Of State Rights

Marshall's reading of the Constitution may be summarized in a phrase: it transfixed State Sovereignty with a two-edged sword, one edge of which was inscribed "National Supremacy," and the other "Private Rights." Yet State Sovereignty, ever reanimated by the democratic impulse of the times, remained a serpent which was scotched but not killed. To be sure, this dangerous enemy to national unity had failed to secure for the state Legislatures the right to interpret the Constitution with authoritative finality; but its argumentative resources were still far from exhausted, and its political resources were steadily increasing. It was still capable of making a notable resistance even in withdrawing itself, until it paused in its recoil and flung itself forward in a new attack.

The connecting link between the Supreme Court and the state courts has already been pointed out to be Section XXV of the Act of 1789 organizing the Federal Judiciary. * This section provides, in effect, that when a suit is brought in a state court under a state law, and the party against whom it is brought claims some right under a national law or treaty or under the Constitution itself, the highest state court into which the case can come must either sustain such a claim or consent to have its decision reviewed, and possibly reversed, by the Supreme Court. The defenders of State Rights at first applauded this arrangement because it left to the local courts the privilege of sharing a jurisdiction which could have been claimed exclusively by the Federal Courts. But when State Rights began to grow into State Sovereignty, a different attitude developed, and in 1814 the Virginia Court of Appeals, in the case of Hunter vs. Martin, pronounced Section XXV void, though, in order not to encourage the disloyal tendencies then rampant in New England, the decision was not published until after the Treaty of Ghent, in February, 1815.

* See Chapter I.

* * 4 Munford (Va.), 1. See also William E. Dodd's article on "Chief Justice Marshall and Virginia in American Historical Review," vol. XII, p. 776.

The head and front of the Virginia court at this time was Spencer Roane, described as "the most powerful politician in the State," an ardent Jeffersonian, and an enemy of Marshall on his own account, for had Ellsworth not resigned so inopportunely, late in 1800, and had Jefferson had the appointment of his successor, Roane would have been the man. His opinion in Hunter vs. Martin disclosed personal animus in every line and was written with a vehemence which was more likely to discomfit a grammarian than its designed victims; but it was withal a highly ingenious plea. At one point Roane enjoyed an advantage which would not be his today when so much more gets into print, for the testimony of Madison's Journal, which was not published till 1840, is flatly against him on the main issue. In 1814, however, the most nearly contemporaneous evidence as to the intention of the framers of the Constitution was that of the "Federalist," which Roane stigmatizes as "a mere newspaper publication written in the heat and fury of the battle," largely by "a supposed favorer of a consolidated government." This description not only overlooks the obvious effort of the authors of the "Federalist" to allay the apprehensions of state jealousy but it also conveniently ignores Madison's part in its composition. Indeed, the enfant terrible of State Rights, the Madison of 1787-88, Roane would fain conceal behind the Madison of ten years later; and the Virginia Resolutions of 1798 and the Report of 1799 he regards the earliest "just exposition of the principles of the Constitution."

To the question whether the Constitution gave "any power to the Supreme Court of the United States to reverse the judgment of the supreme court of a State," Roane returned an emphatic negative. His argument may be summarized thus: The language of Article III of the Constitution does not regard the state courts as composing a part of the judicial organization of the General Government; and the States, being sovereign, cannot be stripped of their power merely by implication. Conversely, the General Government is a government over individuals and is therefore expected to exercise its powers solely through its own organs. To be sure, the judicial power of the United States extends to "all cases arising" under the Constitution and the laws of the United States. But in order to come within this description, a case must not merely involve the construction of the Constitution or laws of the United States; it must have been instituted in the United States courts, and not in those of another Government. Further, the Constitution and the acts of Congress "in pursuance thereof" are "the supreme law of the land," and "the judges in every State" are "bound thereby, anything in the Constitution or laws of any State to the contrary notwithstanding." But they are bound as state judges and only as such; and what the Constitution is, or what acts of Congress are "in pursuance" of it, is for them to declare without any correction or interference by the courts of another jurisdiction. Indeed, it is through the power of its courts to say finally what acts of Congress are constitutional and what are not, that the State is able to exercise its right of arresting within its boundaries unconstitutional measures of the General Government. For the legislative nullification of such measures proposed by the Virginia and Kentucky resolutions is thus substituted judicial nullification by the local judiciaries.

In Martin vs. Hunter's Lessee, * which was decided in February, 1816, Story, speaking for the Court, undertook to answer Roane. Roane's major premise he met with flat denial: "It is a mistake," he asserts, "that the Constitution was not designed to operate upon States in their corporate capacities. It is crowded with provisions which restrain or annul the sovereignty of the States in some of the highest branches of their prerogatives." The greater part of the opinion, however, consisted of a minute examination of the language of Article III of the Constitution. In brief, he pointed out that while Congress "may... establish" inferior courts and, therefore, may not, it was made imperative that the judicial power of the United States "shall extend to all cases arising... under" the Constitution and acts of Congress. If, therefore, Congress should exercise its option and not establish inferior courts, in what manner, he asked, could the purpose of the Constitution be realized except by providing appeals from the state courts to the United States Supreme Court? But more than that, the practical consequences of the position taken by the Virginia Court of Appeals effectually refuted it. That there should be as many versions of the Constitution, laws, and treaties as there are States in the Union was certainly never intended by the framers, nor yet that plaintiffs alone should say when resort should be had to the national tribunals, which were designed for the benefit of all.

* 1 Wheaton, 304. Marshall had an indirect interest in the case. See supra, Chapter II.

If Story's argument is defective at any point, it is in its failure to lay down a clear definition of "cases arising under this Constitution," and this defect in constitutional interpretation is supplied five years later in Marshall's opinion in Cohens vs. Virginia. * The facts of this famous case were as follows: Congress had established a lottery for the District of Columbia, for which the Cohens had sold tickets in Virginia. They had thus run foul of a state law prohibiting such transactions and had been convicted of the offense in the Court of Quarterly Sessions of Norfolk County and fined one hundred dollars. From this judgment they were now appealing under Section XXV.

* 6 Wheaton, 264.

Counsel for the State of Virginia again advanced the principles which had been developed by Roane in Hunter vs. Martin but urged in addition that this particular appeal rendered Virginia a defendant contrary to Article XI of the Amendments. Marshall's summary of their argument at the outset of his opinion is characteristic: "They maintain," he said, "that the nation does not possess a department capable of restraining peaceably, and by authority of law, any attempts which may be made by a part against the legitimate powers of the whole, and that the government is reduced to the alternative of submitting to such attempts or of resisting them by force. They maintain that the Constitution of the United States has provided no tribunal for the final construction of itself or of the laws or treaties of the nation, but that this power must be exercised in the last resort by the courts of every State in the Union. That the Constitution, laws, and treaties may receive as many constructions as there are States; and that this is not a mischief, or, if a mischief, is irremediable."

The cause of such absurdities, Marshall continued, was a conception of State Sovereignty contradicted by the very words of the Constitution, which assert its supremacy, and that of all acts of Congress in pursuance of it, over all conflicting state laws whatsoever. "This," he proceeded to say, "is the authoritative language of the American People, and if gentlemen please, of the American States. It marks, with lines too strong to be mistaken, the characteristic distinction between the Government of the Union and those of the States. The General Government, though limited as to its objects, is supreme with respect to those objects. This principle is a part of the Constitution, and if there be any who deny its necessity, none can deny its authority." Nor was this to say that the Constitution is unalterable. "The people make the Constitution, and the people can unmake it. It is the creature of their own will, and lives only by their will. But this supreme and irresistible power to make or unmake resides only in the whole body of the people, not in any subdivision of them. The attempt of any of the parts to exercise it is usurpation, and ought to be repelled by those to whom the people have delegated their power of repelling it."

Once Marshall had swept aside the irrelevant notion of State Sovereignty, he proceeded with the remainder of his argument without difficulty. Counsel for Virginia had contended that "a case arising under the Constitution or a law must be one in which a party comes into court to demand something conferred on him by the Constitution or a law"; but this construction Marshall held to be "too narrow." "A case in law or equity consists of the right of the one party as well as of the other, and may truly be said to arise under the Constitution or a law of the United States WHENEVER ITS CORRECT DECISION DEPENDS ON THE CONSTRUCTION OF EITHER." From this it followed that Section XXV was a measure necessary and proper for extending the judicial power of the United States appellately to such cases whenever they were first brought in a state court. Nor did Article XI of the Amendments nullify the power thus conferred upon the Court in a case which the State itself had instituted, for in such a case the appeal taken to the national tribunal was only another stage in an action "begun and prosecuted," not against the State, but by the State. The contention of Virginia was based upon the assumption that the Federal and the State Judiciaries constituted independent systems for the enforcement of the Constitution, the national laws, and treaties, and such an assumption Marshall held to be erroneous. For the purposes of the Constitution the United States "form a single nation," and in effecting these purposes the Government of the Union may "legitimately control all individuals or governments within the American territory."

"Our opinion in the Bank Case," Marshall had written Story from Richmond in 1819, a few weeks after M'Culloch vs. Maryland, "has roused the sleeping spirit of Virginia, if indeed it ever sleeps." Cohens vs. Virginia, in 1821, produced an even more decided reaction. Jefferson, now in retirement, had long since nursed his antipathy for the Federal Judiciary to the point of monomania. It was in his eyes "a subtle corps of sappers and miners constantly working underground to undermine our confederated fabric"; and this latest assault upon the rights of the States seemed to him, though perpetrated in the usual way, the most outrageous of all: "An opinion is huddled up in conclave, perhaps by a majority of one, delivered as if unanimous, and with the silent acquiescence of lazy or timid associates, by a crafty chief judge, who sophisticates the law to his own mind by the turn of his own reasoning."

Roane, Jefferson's protege, was still more violent and wrote a series of unrestrained papers at this time in the Richmond "Enquirer," under the pseudonym "Algernon Sidney." Alluding to these, Marshall wrote Story that "their coarseness and malignity would designate the author of them if he was not avowed." Marshall himself thought to answer Roane, but quickly learned that the Virginia press was closed to that side of the question. He got his revenge, however, by obtaining the exclusion of Roane's effusions from Hall's "Law Journal," an influential legal periodical published in Philadelphia. But the personal aspect of the controversy was the least important. "A deep design," Marshall again wrote his colleague, "to convert our Government into a mere league of States has taken hold of a powerful and violent party in Virginia. The attack upon the judiciary is in fact an attack upon the Union." Nor was Virginia the only State where this movement was formidable, and an early effort to repeal Section XXV was to be anticipated.

That the antijudicial movement was extending to other States was indeed apparent. The decision in Sturges vs. Crowinshield * left for several years the impression that the States could not pass bankruptcy laws even for future contracts and consequently afforded a widespread grievance. Ohio had defied the ruling in M'Culloch vs. Maryland, and her Treasurer was languishing in jail by the mandate of the Federal Circuit Court. Kentucky had a still sharper grievance in the decision in Green vs. Biddle, * * which invalidated a policy she had been pursuing for nearly a quarter of a century with reference to squatters' holdings; and what made the decision seem the more outrageous was the mistaken belief that it had represented the views of only a minority of the justices.

* 4 Wheaton, 122.

* * 8 Wheaton, 1.

The Legislatures of the aggrieved States were soon in full hue and cry at the heels of the Court; and from them the agitation quickly spread to Congress. * On December 12, 1821, Senator Johnson of Kentucky proposed an amendment to the Constitution which was intended to substitute the Senate for the Supreme Court in all constitutional cases. In his elaborate speech in support of his proposition, Johnson criticized at length the various decisions of the Court but especially those grounded on its interpretation of the "obligation of contracts" clause. More than that, however, he denied in toto the rights of the Federal Courts to pass upon the constitutionality either of acts of Congress or of state legislative measures. So long as judges were confined to the field of jurisprudence, the principles of which were established and immutable, judicial independence was all very well, said Johnson, but "the science of politics was still in its infancy"; and in a republican system of government its development should be entrusted to those organs which were responsible to the people. Judges were of no better clay than other folk. "Why, then," he asked, "should they be considered any more infallible, or their decisions any less subject to investigation and revision?" Furthermore, "courts, like cities, and villages, or like legislative bodies, will sometimes have their leaders; and it may happen that a single individual will be the prime cause of a decision to overturn the deliberate act of a whole State or of the United States; yet we are admonished to receive their opinions as the ancients did the responses of the Delphic oracle, or the Jews, with more propriety, the communications from Heaven delivered by Urim and Thummim to the High Priest of God's chosen people."

*For a good review of the contemporary agitation aroused by Marshall's decisions, see two articles by Charles Warren in the "American Law Review," vol. XLVII, pp. 1 and 161.

For several years after this, hardly a session of Congress convened in which there was not introduced some measure for the purpose either of curbing the Supreme Court or of curtailing Marshall's influence on its decisions. One measure, for example, proposed the repeal of Section XXV; another, the enlargement of the Court from seven to ten judges; another, the requirement that any decision setting aside a state law must have the concurrence of five out of seven judges; another, the allowance of appeals to the Court on decisions adverse to the constitutionality of state laws as well as on decisions sustaining them. Finally, in January, 1826, a bill enlarging the Court to ten judges passed the House by a vote of 132 to 27. In the Senate, Rowan of Kentucky moved an amendment requiring in all cases the concurrence of seven of the proposed ten judges. In a speech which was typical of current criticism of the Court he bitterly assailed the judges for the protection they had given the Bank—that "political juggernaut," that "creature of the perverted corporate powers of the Federal Government"—and he described the Court itself as "placed above the control of the will of the people, in a state of disconnection with them, inaccessible to the charities and sympathies of human life." The amendment failed, however, and in the end the bill itself was rejected.

Yet a proposition to swamp the Court which received the approval of four-fifths of the House of Representatives cannot be lightly dismissed as an aberration. Was it due to a fortuitous coalescence of local grievances, or was there a general underlying cause? That Marshall's principles of constitutional law did not entirely accord with the political and economic life of the nation at this period must be admitted. The Chief Justice was at once behind his times and ahead of them. On the one hand, he was behind his times because he failed to appreciate adequately the fact that freedom was necessary to frontier communities in meeting their peculiar problems—a freedom which the doctrine of State Rights promised them—and so he had roused Kentucky's wrath by the pedantic and, as the Court itself was presently forced to admit, unworkable decision in Green vs. Biddle. Then on the other hand, the nationalism of this period was of that negative kind which was better content to worship the Constitution than to make a really serviceable application of the national powers. After the War of 1812 the great and growing task which confronted the rapidly expanding nation was that of providing adequate transportation, and had the old federalism from which Marshall derived his doctrines been at the helm, this task would undoubtedly have been taken over by the National Government. By Madison's veto of the Cumberland Road Bill, however, in 1816, this enterprise was handed over to the States; and they eagerly seized upon it after the opening of the Erie Canal in 1825 and the perception of the immense success of the venture. Later, to be sure, the panic of 1837 transferred the work of railroad and canal building to the hands of private capital but, after all, without altering greatly the constitutional problem. For with corporations to be chartered, endowed with the power of eminent domain, and adequately regulated, local policy obviously called for widest latitude.

Reformers are likely to count it a grievance that the courts do not trip over themselves in an endeavor to keep abreast with what is called "progress." But the true function of courts is not to reform, but to maintain a definite status quo. The Constitution defined a status quo the fundamental principles of which Marshall considered sacred. At the same time, even his obstinate loyalty to "the intentions of the framers" was not impervious to facts nor unwilling to come to terms with them, and a growing number of his associates were ready to go considerably farther.

While the agitation in Congress against the Court was at its height, Marshall handed down his decision in Gibbons vs. Ogden, and shortly after, that in Osborn vs. United States Bank. * In the latter case, which was initiated by the Bank, the plaintiff in error, who was Treasurer of the State of Ohio, brought forward Article XI of the Amendments to the Constitution as a bar to the action, but Marshall held that this Amendment did not prevent a state officer from being sued for acts done in excess of his rightful powers. He also reiterated and amplified the principles of M'Culloch vs. Maryland. Three years later he gave his opinions in Brown vs. Maryland and Ogden vs. Saunders. * * In the former Marshall's opinion was dissented from by a single associate, but in the latter the Chief Justice found himself for the first and only time in his entire incumbency in the role of dissenter in a constitutional case. The decision of the majority, speaking through Justice Washington, laid down the principle that the obligation of a private executory contract cannot be said to be "impaired" in a constitutional sense by the adverse effect of legislative acts antedating the making of the contract; and thus the dangerous ambiguity of Sturges vs. Crowinshield was finally resolved in favor of the States.

* 9 Wheaton, 738.

* * 12 Wheaton, 213.

In the course of the next few years the Court, speaking usually through the Chief Justice, decided several cases on principles favoring local interest, sometimes indeed curtailing the operation of previously established principles. For example, the Court held that, in the absence of specific legislation by Congress to the contrary, a State may erect a dam across navigable waters of the United States for local purposes *; that the mere grant of a charter to a corporation does not prevent the State from taxing such corporation on its franchises, notwithstanding that "the power to tax involves the power to destroy" * *; that the Federal Courts have no right to set a state enactment aside on the ground that it had divested vested rights, unless it had done so through impairing the obligation of contracts * * *; that the first eight Amendments to the Constitution do not limit state power, but only Federal power * * * * that decisions adverse to state laws must have the concurrence of a majority of the Court. * * * * *

* Wilson vs. Blackbird Creek Marsh Company (1829), 2 Peters, 245.

* * Providence Bank vs. Billings (1830), 4 Peters, 514.

* * * Satterlee vs. Matthewson (1829), 2 Peters, 380; and Watson vs. Mercer (1834), 8 Peters, 110.

* * * * Barron vs. Baltimore (1833), 7 Peters, 243.

* * * * * See in this connection the Chief Justice's remarks in Briscoe vs. Bank of Kentucky, 8 Peters, 118.

Despite all these concessions which he made to the rising spirit of the times, Marshall found his last years to be among the most trying of his chief justiceship. Jackson, who was now President, felt himself the chosen organ of "the People's will" and was not disposed to regard as binding anybody's interpretation of the Constitution except his own. The West and Southwest, the pocket boroughs of the new Administration, were now deep in land speculation and clamorous for financial expedients which the Constitution banned. John Taylor of Caroline had just finished his task of defining the principles of constitutional construction which were requisite to convert the Union into a league of States and had laid his work at the feet of Calhoun. Taylor was a candid man and frankly owned the historical difficulties in the way of carrying out his purpose; but Calhoun's less scrupulous dialectic swept aside every obstacle that stood in the way of attributing to the States the completest sovereignty.

In Craig vs. Missouri (1830) * the Court was confronted with a case in which a State had sought to evade the prohibition of the Constitution against the emission of bills of credit by establishing loan offices with authority to issue loan certificates intended to circulate generally in dimensions of fifty cents to ten dollars and to be receivable for taxes. A plainer violation of the Constitution would be difficult to imagine. Yet Marshall's decision setting aside the act was followed by a renewed effort to procure the repeal of Section XXV of the Judiciary Act. The discussion of the proposal threw into interesting contrast two points of view. The opponents of this section insisted upon regarding constitutional cases as controversies between the United States and the States in their corporate capacities; its advocates, on the other hand, treated the section as an indispensable safeguard of private rights. In the end, the latter point of view prevailed: the bill to repeal, which had come up in the House, was rejected by a vote of 138 to 51, and of the latter number all but six came from Southern States, and more than half of them from natives of Virginia.

* 4 Peters, 410.

Meantime the Supreme Court had become involved in controversy with Georgia on account of a series of acts which that State had passed extending its jurisdiction over the Cherokee Indians in violation of the national treaties with this tribe. In Corn Tassel's case, the appellant from the Georgia court to the United States Supreme Court was hanged in defiance of a writ of error from the Court. In Cherokee Nation vs. Georgia, the Court itself held that it had no jurisdiction. Finally, in 1832, in Worcester vs. Georgia, * the Court was confronted squarely with the question of the validity of the Georgia acts. The State put in no appearance, the acts were pronounced void, and the decision went unenforced. When Jackson was asked what effort the Executive Department would make to back up the Court's mandate, he is reported to have said: "John Marshall has made his decision; now let him enforce it."

* 6 Peters, 515.

Marshall began to see the Constitution and the Union crumbling before him. "I yield slowly and reluctantly to the conviction," he wrote Story, late in 1832, "that our Constitution cannot last .... Our opinions [in the South] are incompatible with a united government even among ourselves. The Union has been prolonged this far by miracles." A personal consideration sharpened his apprehension. He saw old age at hand and was determined "not to hazard the disgrace of continuing in office a mere inefficient pageant," but at the same time he desired some guarantee of the character of the person who was to succeed him. At first he thought of remaining until after the election of 1832; but Jackson's reelection made him relinquish altogether the idea of resignation.

A few months later, in consequence of the Administration's vigorous measures against nullification in South Carolina, things were temporarily wearing a brighter aspect. Yet that the fundamental elements of the situation had been thereby altered, Marshall did not believe. "To men who think as you and I do," he wrote Story, toward the end of 1834, "the present is gloomy enough; and the future presents no cheering prospect. In the South... those who support the Executive do not support the Government. They sustain the personal power of the President, but labor incessantly to impair the legitimate powers of the Government. Those who oppose the rash and violent measures of the Executive... are generally the bitter enemies of Constitutional Government. Many of them are the avowed advocates of a league; and those who do not go the whole length, go a great part of the way. What can we hope for in such circumstances?"

Yet there was one respect in which the significance of Marshall's achievement must have been as clear to himself as it was to his contemporaries. He had failed for the time being to establish his definition of national power, it is true, but he had made the Supreme Court one of the great political forces of the country. The very ferocity with which the pretensions of the Court were assailed in certain quarters was indirect proof of its power, but there was also direct testimony of a high order. In 1830 Alexis de Tocqueville, the French statesman, visited the United States just as the rough frontier democracy was coming into its own. Only through the Supreme Court, in his opinion, were the forces of renewal and growth thus liberated to be kept within the bounds set by existing institutions. "The peace, the prosperity, and the very existence of the Union," he wrote, "are vested in the hands of the seven Federal judges. Without them the Constitution would be a dead letter: the Executive appeals to them for assistance against the encroachments of the legislative power; the Legislature demands their protection against the assaults of the Executive; they defend the Union from the disobedience of the States, the States from the exaggerated claims of the Union, the public interest against private interests and the conservative spirit of stability against the fickleness of the democracy." The contrast between these observations and the disheartened words in which Jay declined renomination to the chief justiceship in 1801 gives perhaps a fair measure of Marshall's accomplishment.

Of the implications of the accomplishment of the great Chief Justice for the political life of the country, let De Tocqueville speak again: "Scarcely any political question arises in the United States which is not resolved sooner, or later, into a judicial question. Hence all parties are obliged to borrow in their daily controversies the ideas, and even the language peculiar to judicial proceedings.... The language of the law thus becomes, in some measure, a vulgar tongue; the spirit of law, which is produced in the schools and courts of justice, gradually penetrates beyond their walls into the bosom of society, where it descends to the lowest classes, so that at last the whole people contract the habits and the tastes of the judicial magistrate."

In one respect, however, De Tocqueville erred. American "legalism," that curious infusion of politics with jurisprudence, that mutual consultation of public opinion and established principles, which in the past has so characterized the course of discussion and legislation in America, is traceable to origins long antedating Marshall's chief justiceship. On the other hand, there is no public career in American history which ever built so largely upon this pervasive trait of the national outlook as did Marshall's, or which has contributed so much to render it effective in palpable institutions.



CHAPTER VIII. Among Friends And Neighbors

It is a circumstance of no little importance that the founder of American Constitutional Law was in tastes and habit of life a simple countryman. To the establishment of National Supremacy and the Sanctity of Contracts Marshall brought the support not only of his office and his command of the art of judicial reasoning but also the whole-souled democracy and unpretentiousness of the fields. And it must be borne in mind that Marshall was on view before his contemporaries as a private citizen rather more of the time, perhaps, than as Chief Justice. His official career was, in truth, a somewhat leisurely one. Until 1827 the term at Washington rarely lasted over six weeks and subsequently not over ten weeks. In the course of his thirty-four years on the Bench, the Court handed down opinions in over 1100 cases, which is probably about four times the number of opinions now handed down at a single term; and of this number Marshall spoke for the Court in about half the cases. Toward the middle of March, he left Washington for Richmond, and on the 22d of May opened court in his own circuit. Then, three weeks later, if the docket permitted, he went on to Raleigh to hold court there for a few days. The summers he usually spent on the estate which he inherited from his father at Fauquier, or else he went higher up into the mountains to escape malaria. But by the 22d of November at the latest he was back once more in Richmond for court, and at the end of December for a second brief term he again drove to Raleigh in his high-wheeled gig. With his return to Washington early in February he completed the round of his judicial year.

The entire lack of pageantry and circumstance which attended these journeyings of his is nowhere more gaily revealed than in the following letter to his wife, which is now published for the first time through the kindness of Mr. Beveridge:

Rawleigh, Jan'y. 2d, 1803.

My Dearest Polly

You will laugh at my vexation when you hear the various calamities that have befallen me. In the first place when I came to review my funds, I had the mortification to discover that I had lost 15 silver dollars out of my waist coat pocket. They had worn through the various mendings the pocket had sustained and sought their liberty in the sands of Carolina.

I determined not to vex myself with what could not be remedied & ordered Peter to take out my cloaths that I might dress for court when to my astonishment & grief after fumbling several minutes in the portmanteau, starting [sic] at vacancy, & sweating most profusely he turned to me with the doleful tidings that I had no pair of breeches. You may be sure this piece of intelligence was not very graciously received; however, after a little scolding, I determined to make the best of my situation & immediately set out to get a pair made.

I thought I should be a sans-culotte only one day & that for the residue of the term I might be well enough dressed for the appearance on the first day to be forgotten.

But, the greatest of evils, I found, was followed by still greater. Not a taylor in town could be prevailed on to work for me: They were all so busy that it was impossible to attend to my wants however pressing they might be, & I have the extreme mortification to pass the whole time without that important article of dress I have mentioned. I have no alleviation for this misfortune but the hope that I shall be enabled in four or five days to commence my journey homeward & that I shall have the pleasure of seeing you & our dear children in eight or nine days after this reaches you.

In the meantime, I flatter myself that you are well and happy.

Adieu my dearest Polly

I am your own affectionate,

J. Marshall.

Marshall erected his Richmond home, called "Shockoe Hill," in 1793 on a plot of ground which he had purchased four years earlier. Here, as his eulogist has said, was "the scene of his real triumphs." At an early date his wife became a nervous invalid, and his devotion to her brought out all the finest qualities of his sound and tender nature. "It is," says Mr. Beveridge, "the most marked characteristic of his entire private life and is the one thing which differentiates him sharply from the most eminent men of that heroic but socially free-and-easy period." From his association with his wife Marshall derived, moreover, an opinion of the sex "as the friends, the companions, and the equals of man" which may be said to have furnished one of his few points of sympathetic contact with American political radicalism in his later years. The satirist of woman, says Story, "found no sympathy in his bosom," and "he was still farther above the commonplace flatteries by which frivolity seeks to administer aliment to personal vanity, or vice to make its approaches for baser purposes. He spoke to the sex when present, as he spoke of them when absent, in language of just appeal to their understandings, their tastes, and their duties."

Marshall's relations with his neighbors were the happiest possible. Every week, when his judicial duties permitted or the more "laborious relaxation" of directing his farm did not call him away, he attended the meetings of the Barbecue Club in a fine grove just outside the city, to indulge in his favorite diversion of quoits. The Club consisted of thirty of the most prominent men of Richmond, judges, lawyers, doctors, clergymen, and merchants. To quoits was added the inducement of an excellent repast of which roast pig was the piece de resistance. Then followed a dessert of fruit and melons, while throughout a generous stock of porter, toddy, and of punch "from which water was carefully excluded," was always available to relieve thirst. An entertaining account of a meeting of the Club at which Marshall and his friend Wickham were the caterers has been thus preserved for us:

"At the table Marshall announced that at the last meeting two members had introduced politics, a forbidden subject, and had been fined a basket of champagne, and that this was now produced, as a warning to evil-doers; as the club seldom drank this article, they had no champagne glasses, and must drink it in tumblers. Those who played quoits retired after a while for a game. Most of the members had smooth, highly polished brass quoits. But Marshall's were large, rough, heavy, and of iron, such as few of the members could throw well from hub to hub. Marshall himself threw them with great success and accuracy, and often 'rang the meg.' On this occasion Marshall and the Rev. Mr. Blair led the two parties of players. Marshall played first, and rang the meg. Parson Blair did the same, and his quoit came down plumply on top of Marshall's. There was uproarious applause, which drew out all the others from the dinner; and then came an animated controversy as to what should be the effect of this exploit. They all returned to the table, had another bottle of champagne, and listened to arguments, one from Marshall, pro se, and one from Wickham for Parson Blair. [Marshall's] argument is a humorous companion piece to any one of his elaborate judicial opinions. He began by formulating the question, 'Who is winner when the adversary quoits are on the meg at the same time?' He then stated the facts, and remarked that the question was one of the true construction and applications of the rules of the game. The first one ringing the meg has the advantage. No other can succeed who does not begin by displacing this first one. The parson, he willingly allowed, deserves to rise higher and higher in everybody's esteem; but then he mustn't do it by getting on another's back in this fashion. That is more like leapfrog than quoits. Then, again, the legal maxim, Cujus est solum, ejus est usque ad coelum—his own right as first occupant extends to the vault of heaven; no opponent can gain any advantage by squatting on his back. He must either bring a writ of ejectment, or drive him out vi et armis. And then, after further argument of the same sort, he asked judgment, and sat down amidst great applause. Mr. Wickham then rose, and made an argument of a similar pattern. No rule, he said, requires an impossibility. Mr. Marshall's quoit is twice as large as any other; and yet it flies from his arm like the iron ball at the Grecian games from the arm of Ajax. It is impossible for an ordinary quoit to move it. With much more of the same sort, he contended that it was a drawn game. After very animated voting, designed to keep up the uncertainty as long as possible, it was so decided. Another trial was had, and Marshall clearly won." *

* J. B. Thayer, "John Marshall" ("Riverside Biographical Series," 1904), pp. 13436, paraphrasing G. W. Munford, "The Two Parsons" (Richmond, 1884), pp. 326-38.

Years later Chester Harding, who once painted Marshall, visited the Club. "I watched," says he, "for the coming of the old chief. He soon approached, with his coat on his arm and his hat in his hand, which he was using as a fan. He walked directly up to a large bowl of mint julep which had been prepared, and drank off a tumblerful, smacking his lips, and then turned to the company with a cheerful 'How are you, gentlemen?' He was looked upon as the best pitcher of the party and could throw heavier quoits than any other member of the club. The game began with great animation. There were several ties; and before long I saw the great Chief Justice of the United States down on his knees measuring the contested distance with a straw, with as much earnestness as if it had been a point of law; and if he proved to be in the right, the woods would ring with his triumphant shout." * What Wellesley remarked of the younger Pitt may be repeated of Marshall, that "unconscious of his superiority," he "plunged heedlessly into the mirth of the hour" and was endowed with "a gay heart and social spirit beyond any man of his time."

* Thayer, op. cit., pp. 132-33.

As a hero of anecdotes Marshall almost rivals Lincoln. Many of the tales preserved are doubtless apocryphal, but this qualification hardly lessens their value as contemporary impressions of his character and habits. They show for what sort of anecdotes his familiarly known personality had an affinity.

The Chief Justice's entire freedom from ostentation and the gentleness with which he could rebuke it in others is illustrated in a story often told. Going early to the market one morning he came upon a youth who was fuming and swearing because he could get no one to carry his turkey home for him. Marshall proffered his services. Arriving at the house the young man asked, "What shall I pay you?" "Oh, nothing," was the reply; "it was on my way, and no trouble." As Marshall walked away, the young man inquired of a bystander, "Who is that polite old man that brought home my turkey for me?" "That," was the answer, "is Judge Marshall, Chief Justice of the United States."

Of the same general character is an anecdote which has to do with a much earlier period when Marshall was still a practicing attorney. An old farmer who was involved in a lawsuit came to Richmond to attend its trial. "Who is the best lawyer in Richmond?" he asked of his host, the innkeeper of the Eagle tavern. The latter pointed to a tall, ungainly, bareheaded man who had just passed, eating cherries from his hat and exchanging jests with other loiterers like himself. "That is he," said the innkeeper; "John Marshall is his name." But the old countryman, who had a hundred dollars in his pocket, proposed to spend it on something more showy and employed a solemn, black-coated, and much powdered bigwig. The latter turned out in due course to be a splendid illustration of the proverb that "fine feathers do not make fine birds." This the crestfallen rustic soon discovered. Meantime he had listened with amazement and growing admiration to an argument by Marshall in a cause which came on before his own. He now went up to Marshall and, explaining his difficulty, offered him the five dollars which the exactions of the first attorney still left him, and besought his aid. With a humorous remark about the power of a black coat and powdered wig Marshall good-naturedly accepted the retainer.

The religious bent of the Chief Justice's mind is illustrated in another story, which tells of his arriving toward the close of day at an inn in one of the counties of Virginia, and falling in with some young men who presently began ardently to debate the question of the truth or falsity of the Christian religion. From six until eleven o'clock the young theologians argued keenly and ably on both sides of the question. Finally one of the bolder spirits exclaimed that it was impossible to overcome prejudices of long standing and, turning to the silent visitor, asked: "Well, my old gentleman, what do you think of these things?" To their amazement the "old gentleman" replied for an hour in an eloquent and convincing defense of the Christian religion, in which he answered in order every objection the young men had uttered. So impressive was the simplicity and loftiness of his discourse that the erstwhile critics were completely silenced.

In truth, Marshall's was a reverent mind, and it sprang instinctively to the defense of ideas and institutions whose value had been tested. Unfortunately, in his "Life of Washington" Marshall seems to have given this propensity a somewhat undue scope. There were external difficulties in dealing with such a subject apart from those inherent in a great biography, and Marshall's volumes proved to be a general disappointment. Still hard pressed for funds wherewith to meet his Fairfax investment, he undertook this work shortly after he became Chief Justice, at the urgent solicitation of Judge Bushrod Washington, the literary executor of his famous uncle Marshall had hoped to make this incursion into the field of letters a very remunerative one, for he and Washington had counted on some thirty thousand subscribers for the work. The publishers however, succeeded in obtaining only about a quarter of that number, owing partly at least to the fact that Jefferson had no sooner learned of the enterprise than his jealous mind conceived the idea that the biography must be intended for partisan purposes. He accordingly gave the alarm to the Republican press and forbade the Federal postmasters to take orders for the book. At the same time he asked his friend Joel Barlow, then residing in Paris, to prepare a counterblast, for which he declared himself to be "rich in materials." The author of the "Columbiad," however, declined this hazardous commission, possibly because he was unwilling to stand sponsor for the malicious recitals that afterwards saw light in the pages of the "Anas."

But apart from this external opposition to the biography, Marshall found a source of even keener disappointment in the literary defects due to the haste with which he had done his work. The first three volumes had appeared in 1804, the fourth in 1805, and the fifth, which is much the best, in 1807. Republican critics dwelt with no light hand upon the deficiencies of these volumes, and Marshall himself sadly owned that the "inelegancies" in the first were astonishingly numerous. But the shortcomings of the work as a satisfactory biography are more notable than its lapses in diction. By a design apparently meant to rival the improvisations of "Tristram Shandy", the birth of the hero is postponed for an entire volume, in which the author traces the settlement of the country. At the opening of the second volume "the birth of young Mr. Washington" is gravely announced, to be followed by an account of the Father of his Country so devoid of intimate touches that it might easily have been written by one who had never seen George Washington.

Nevertheless, these pages of Marshall's do not lack acute historical judgments. He points out, for instance, that, if the Revolution had ended before the Articles of Confederation were adopted, permanent disunion might have ensued and that, faulty as it was, the Confederation "preserved the idea, of Union until the good sense of the Nation adopted a more efficient system." Again, in his account of the events leading up to the Convention of 1787, Marshall rightly emphasizes facts which subsequent writers have generally passed by with hardly any mention, so that students may read this work with profit even today. But the chief importance of these volumes lay, after all, in the additional power which the author himself derived from the labor of their preparation. In so extensive an undertaking Marshall received valuable training for his later task of laying the foundations of Constitutional Law in America. One of his chief assets on the bench, as we have already seen, was his complete confidence in his own knowledge of the intentions of the Constitution—a confidence which was grounded in the consciousness that he had written the history of the Constitution's framing.

Most of Marshall's correspondence, which is not voluminous, deals with politics or legal matters. But there are letters in which the personal side of the Chief Justice is revealed. He gives his friend Story a touching account of the loss of two of his children. He praises old friends and laments his inability to make new ones. He commends Jane Austen, whose novels he has just finished reading. "Her flights," he remarks, "are not lofty, she does not soar on eagle's wings, but she is pleasing, interesting, equable, and yet amusing." He laments that he "can no longer debate and yet cannot apply his mind to anything else." One recalls Darwin's similar lament that his scientific work had deprived him of all liking for poetry.

The following letter, which Marshall wrote the year before his death to his grandson, a lad of fourteen or fifteen, is interesting for its views on a variety of subjects and is especially pleasing for its characteristic freedom from condescension:

"I had yesterday the pleasure of receiving your letter of the 29th of November, and am quite pleased with the course of study you are pursuing. Proficiency in Greek and Latin is indispensable to an accomplished scholar, and may be of great real advantage in our progress through human life. Cicero deserves to be studied still more for his talents than for the improvement in language to be derived from reading him. He was unquestionably, with the single exception of Demosthenes, the greatest orator among the ancients. He was too a profound Philosopher. His 'de ofiiciis' is among the most valuable treatises I have ever seen in the Latin language.

"History is among the most essential departments of knowledge; and, to an American, the histories of England and of the United States are most instructive. Every man ought to be intimately acquainted with the history of his own country. Those of England and of the United States are so closely connected that the former seems to be introductory to the latter. They form one whole. Hume, as far as he goes, to the revolution of 1688, is generally thought the best Historian of England. Others have continued his narrative to a late period, and it will be necessary to read them also.

"There is no exercise of the mind from which more valuable improvement is to be drawn than from composition. In every situation of life the result of early practice will be valuable. Both in speaking and writing, the early habit of arranging our thoughts with regularity, so as to point them to the object to be proved, will be of great advantage. In both, clearness and precision are most essential qualities. The man who by seeking embellishment hazards confusion, is greatly mistaken in what constitutes good writing. The meaning ought never to be mistaken. Indeed the readers should never be obliged to search for it. The writer should always express himself so clearly as to make it impossible to misunderstand him. He should be comprehended without an effort.

"The first step towards writing and speaking clearly is to think clearly. Let the subject be perfectly understood, and a man will soon find words to convey his meaning to others. Blair, whose lectures are greatly and justly admired, advises a practice well worthy of being observed. It is to take a page of some approved writer and read it over repeatedly until the matter, not the words, be fully impressed on the mind. Then write, in your own language, the same matter. A comparison of the one with the other will enable you to remark and correct your own defects. This course may be pursued after having made some progress in composition. In the commencement, the student ought carefully to reperuse what he has written, correct, in the first instance, every error of orthography and grammar. A mistake in either is unpardonable. Afterwards revise and improve the language.

"I am pleased with both your pieces of composition. The subjects are well chosen and of the deepest interest. Happiness is pursued by all, though too many mistake the road by which the greatest good is to be successfully followed. Its abode is not always in the palace or the cottage. Its residence is the human heart, and its inseparable companion is a quiet conscience. Of this, Religion is the surest and safest foundation. The individual who turns his thoughts frequently to an omnipotent omniscient and all perfect being, who feels his dependence on, and his infinite obligations to that being will avoid that course of life which must harrow up the conscience."