The master himself and his beloved Molly have moved a few blocks away. They and their family and friends occupy more restricted quarters in Shockoe Cemetery. In death as in life fashion predominates. As in life fashion moved from the Hill to the West End, so in death fashion has shifted to Hollywood Cemetery. Hollywood, with its presidents and post-bellum aristocracy, has become a showplace. Only the rare visitor finds his way through a poor and forgotten quarter to Shockoe. After his long and arduous experience presiding over the trial the Chief Justice was in need of a rest and he hurried off to the Blue Ridge Mountains. In a letter to his friend Judge Peter thanking him for the gift of a book he revealed his sense of relief: “I received it while fatigued and occupied with the most unpleasant case which has ever been brought before a Judge in this or perhaps any other country, which affected to be governed by laws.” In those days much of the work of the Supreme Court was conducted on circuit. So the Chief Justice was able to spend a great deal of his time on official business in the congenial atmosphere of Richmond. There, after the indignation of his political opponents over his conduct of the trial had somewhat died down, he once more enjoyed the affection and respect of his neighbors. Even after Mr. Jefferson came to the end of his term of office and retired to Monticello the feud between the Chief Justice and himself went on. In the summer of 1821 a series of articles by Judge Spencer Roane, of the Virginia Court of Appeals, attacking the Chief Justice and presenting the states’ rights argument against the extension of Federal power, appeared in _The Enquirer_. In a letter to his colleague Justice Story, Judge Marshall attributed the vulgarity of their tone to Roane, but imagined the “acerbity of language increased by his communications with the Great Lama of the mountains.” And even when Jefferson died the Chief Justice, kindly though he was in most human relationships, could not bring himself to the point of expressing distress or offering a word of praise. Edmund Randolph, the elder statesman, did not long survive the trial. That, in fact, was his last memorable appearance. He died in 1813 at the age of 60 years. By an irony of fate the youngest of the counsel in the trial was the first to go. The prospects of a brilliant career were cruelly blasted when Benjamin Botts and his young wife met death in the burning of the Richmond Theater on December 26, 1811. So, save for his part in the defense of Aaron Burr, he is best known in local history as the father of John Minor Botts, a Virginia statesman.