University of Virginia Library

The last public speech of Mr. Randolph was delivered at Buckingham
Court-house in the year 1833, he then being on his way to Philadelphia
where he died shortly after. He was travelling by private conveyance,
accompanied by his two favorite servants, Juba and John. His expected
arrival had been previously announced, and it being the regular monthly
term of the county court, as might have been expected, the attendance
was unusually large, most of the old citizens of the county being prompted
by a desire to see their former representative in Congress once more, and
to hear him speak, perhaps, for the last time. Those who had never seen
him, but who had heard of his reputation as a speaker, determined to
avail themselves of this opportunity of seeing and hearing one of whom
so much had been said.

He reached the village at about eleven o'clock A. M., by which time a
large concourse of people had assembled upon the court yard, and along
the principal street, all anxiously looking for the arrival of this distinguished
personage; and when his carriage stopped in front of the hotel,
it was immediately surrounded by a dense crowd—a proceeding by which

Mr. Randolph, in his weak and nervous condition, seemed to be greatly
annoyed. This was clearly evinced by his abrupt command to his servant
who was in the act of opening the door of the carriage, to let it remain
closed until the crowd should retire; adding that he was no wild beast
intended for public exhibition. The crowd, after some hesitation, retired
to a respectful distance, whereupon, the door of the carriage was opened,
and he descended with much difficulty by the assistance of his servants.
He was immediately conducted to the court-house and occupied the
judge's seat, from which, in a sitting posture, after the large court-room
had become filled to its utmost capacity, he proceeded to deliver a speech,
in the making of which he seemed to have had no special object other
than that of giving his opinion as to matters and things in general. Public
men and public measures of the past as well as of the present seemed
to be passing in review before him, and for each of whom he seemed to
have some unkind remembrance. His whole speech, if such it might be
called, evinced an unhappy state of mind, if not a disordered intellect.
No class and no profession escaped his bitter invective and withering sarcasm.
Nothing either in church or state seemed to be progressing according
to his liking.

At the close of his disconnected harangue but few even of his old
constituents ventured to approach him with anything like familiarity, not
knowing how such advances might be received. Among the vast assemblage
there was but one individual who seemed willing to court his especial
attention. This was a young lawyer of much self-importance who
had shortly before been elected to a seat in the state legislature, where he
had gained some notoriety by a speech he made in advocacy of the abolition
of slavery, in the course of which he took occasion to make some very
severe strictures upon Mr. Randolph as a cruel slaveholder. This course
on the part of this young delegate had not met with the approval of his
constituents, as had been evinced by their refusal to reëlect him. He took
this occasion to set himself right before the people, by publicly acknowledging
his political errors, and apologizing to Mr. Randolph for the
supposed injuries he had done him. For this purpose, as soon as Mr.
Randolph had concluded his speech, our young hero arose from his seat
in the bar, and commenced by expressing his deep sympathy for the honorable
gentleman in his seemingly great bodily afflictions, with the hope
that his contemplated visit to Europe would result in the restoration of
his health. He said he had always been a devoted admirer of Mr. Randolph,

and felt it due to that distinguished gentleman, as well as to his
fellow-citizens of Buckingham, that he should embrace that opportunity of
making a public acknowledgment of his late political errors, as evinced
by a speech which he had made when honored with a seat in the State
legislature, and in the delivery of which he had taken occasion to speak
disparagingly of Mr. Randolph as a tyrannical master to his slaves. His
course, he said, he had reason to know, had not been in accordance
with the sentiments of his constituents, and his personal attack upon his
distinguished friend had been made without a personal knowledge of his
mode of treatment to his slaves. He hoped his constituents would forgive
his past errors, and he trusted to the well known magnanimity of Mr.
Randolph for his forgiveness of the personal injury done him in a moment
of heated debate upon an exciting subject, the wrong side of which he
had unfortunately taken.

During the delivery of this ill-timed speech, Mr. Randolph sat with his
head resting upon his hand, seemingly absorbed in deep thought; and at
its conclusion he straightened himself up, and fixing upon his victim a
penetrating gaze, he proceeded as follows: "I don't know you, sir; what
might be your name?" The name was given, when Mr. Randolph continued
his interrogatories: "Whose son are you? where did you make
the speech you have been talking about? and what did you say you were
trying to speak about?"

These questions were all answered in a hurried and confused manner,
evidently showing that the young orator's situation was becoming unpleasant.
Mr. Randolph, after asking a few more simple questions, the purport
of which is not now remembered, concluded as follows: "I don't think
I ever heard of you or your speech before; and, of course, I have no
particular comment to make upon either. I knew your father, and
have always thought he was a right good sort of a man; and I suppose
you are a degenerate son of a noble sire—a thing that is becoming quite
common in this country. I hope my old constituents, God bless them,
will never again be misrepresented in the legislature, or anywhere else, by
such a creature as you have shown yourself to be."

It is needless to say, the applause throughout the court-room was tremendous;
and it is not believed our young hero ever entertained as good
an opinion of himself from that day until the day of his death, which
occurred only a few months since.

I remember, upon one occasion, pending the debate upon the Missouri
question, and when Mr. Randolph was in the habit of almost daily addressing
the house, that a Mr. Beecher, of Ohio, who was very impatient
of Randolph's tirades, would, in the lengthy pauses made by him, rise
from his place and move the previous question. The speaker would reply:
"The member from Virginia has the floor." The first and second
interruptions were not noticed by Randolph, but upon the repetition a
third time, he slowly lifted his head from contemplating his notes, and
said: "Mr. Speaker, in the Netherlands, a man of small capacity, with
bits of wood and leather, will, in a few moments, construct a toy that,
with the pressure of the finger and thumb, will cry `Cuckoo! Cuckoo!'
With less of ingenuity, and with inferior materials, the people of Ohio have
made a toy that will, without much pressure, cry `Previous question, Mr.
Speaker! Previous question, Mr. Speaker!' "—at the same time designating
Beecher by pointing at him with his long, skeleton-looking finger.
In a moment the house was convulsed with laughter, and I doubt if
Beecher ever survived the sarcasm.