Marshall was a social man, and at times convivial; and I should think it
probable that, though he lived to a good old age, these complaints were,
to some extent, engendered by the fried food they insist upon in
Virginia, and addiction to Madeira wine instead of lighter French or
German wines. He was one of the last of the old Madeira drinkers of this
country, like Washington, and his only point of pride was that he had
perhaps the best Madeira at Richmond. Above all other men who ever lived
at Richmond, Virginia, Marshall gives sanctity and character to the
place. His house still stands there, and ought to become the property of
the bar of this country. It is now a pretty old house, made of brick and
moderately roomy.
AT THE BAR.
The basis of Marshall's ability at the bar was his understanding. Not
highly read, he had one of those clear understandings which was equal to
a mill-pond of book-learning. His first practice was among his old
companions in arms, who felt that he was a soldier by nature, and one of
those who loved the fellowship of the camp better than military or
political ambition. Ragged and dissipated, they used to come to him for
protection, and at a time when imprisonment for debt and cruel
executions were in vogue. He not only defended them, but loaned them
money. He lost some good clients by not paying more attention to his
clothing, but these outward circumstances could not long keep back
recognition of the fact that he was the finest arguer of a case at the
Richmond bar, which then contained such men as Edmund Randolph, Patrick
Henry, and later, William Wirt.
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