University of Virginia Library

CHAPTER II

The End

In the succeeding April, Randolph endeavored to make
a tour of the counties embraced in his former district. He
had now formed the idea that exercise by what he called
"gestation" was indispensable to his existence.[1] His
body, however, had really grown too weak to flush his
brain properly when he was speaking. Indeed, he had
to give up one effort to reach Buckingham Court House
and to return from Buckingham County to Charlotte
Court House re infecta (as he said); and when he got
to Charlotte Court House on this occasion, he was
too knocked up by fatigue to keep on to Roanoke. He
was present, however, at Cumberland Court House on
election day in the month of April; and thence he proceeded
directly northwards for the purpose of taking the
packet, Montezuma, at Philadelphia for England.[2]

The first night of his journey, he spent at Clay Hill,
the residence of his intimate friend, Barksdale, in Amelia
County. Later, he wrote to Dr. Brockenbrough from
Geo. W. Johnson's, near Moody's, in Chesterfield County:

The reaction did come, and enabled him to get to
Petersburg where he not only attended the races, but even
made a speech. Subsequently, he passed through Richmond
(a), and from The Merry Oaks, beyond Richmond,
he wrote to Dr. Brockenbrough in these words:

The distance between Merry Oaks and the Potomac
was traversed so rapidly that Randolph reached the
landing at Potomac Creek in advance of the other travellers
who were transported thither by stage coaches from

Fredericksburg. For his movements from this point to
Philadelphia, where he died, we are indebted almost exclusively
to information gathered by Garland in the
preparation of his biography from sources no longer
available to us except in his pages. This information,
therefore, we shall lay before the reader in Garland's very
words:

During the preceding winter, when Randolph had
visited Washington, a reconciliation had taken place
between him and Henry Clay; from whom he had again
become estranged after the duel. In a letter to his intimate
friend, Judge Brooke, Clay told him just how this
result was brought about.

The next day after his arrival in Washington, Randolph
went to the Senate chamber, and secured a seat just behind
Clay, who happened at that time to be addressing the
Senate. "Raise me up," said Randolph, "I want to hear
that voice again." At the conclusion of the address,
Randolph's presence was brought to Clay's attention,
and Clay advanced towards him to speak to him; Randolph
saying, as he approached, to a gentleman near
himself, "Raise me up." Clay offered his hand, exclaiming:
"Mr. Randolph, I hope you are better, Sir." "No,
Sir," replied Randolph, "I am a dying man, and I came
here expressly to have this interview with you."[7] They
shook hands, and neither in enmity, nor in good will, were
they ever to see each other again.

Randolph went on to Philadelphia, but, when he reached
that city, a storm was raging, and the only carriage that
John could obtain for him was a miserable hack with all
its glasses broken. In this, he was driven through the
storm from hotel to hotel in search of lodgings. At
length, he was taken to the City Hotel, No. 41 N. Third

St., kept by Edmund Badger. When Badger came out
to meet him, he asked if he could be accommodated.
Badger replied that his hotel was crowded but that he
would do the best that he could for him. On hearing
this, Randolph lifted up his hands and exclaimed: "Great
God! I thank thee; I shall be among friends, and be taken
care of."[8]

What happened from this time until his death four days
later, we have been told in a series of highly interesting
statements made by Dr. Josiah Parrish, a Quaker physician,
of very high repute; his son, Dr. Isaac Parrish,
his friend and former pupil, Dr. Francis West, a brother
of Captain West, Randolph's sea-captain friend, and
Condy Raguet, the editor of a State-Rights and Free
Trade publication of the time.

Randolph arrived at Philadelphia on Monday, May
20, 1833. He was so ill that Badger suggested that he
should send for a physician, and he was induced reluctantly
to assent. After running over the names of seven or eight
Philadelphia physicians, including Drs. Chapman and
Physick, he said to Badger: "Well you have a Quaker
doctor here of a good deal of celebrity—Dr. Parrish; go
for him." He had heard of the Doctor through William
B. Giles, who had been under his care at one time.

Dr. Parrish found Randolph much disturbed over the
difficulty which he had experienced in obtaining lodgings,
and so weak that he could scarcely expectorate; a fact
which interfered distressingly with his respiration. He
appeared fully conscious of his danger; informed the
Doctor that he had attended several courses of lectures
on anatomy; described his symptoms with professional
accuracy, and declared that he must die unless he could
expel the purulent matter which was oppressing him. Dr.
Parrish asked him how long he had been sick. He replied:
"Don't ask me that question; I have been sick all

my life"; and, when the Doctor felt his pulse, he said:
"You can form no judgment by my pulse; it is so peculiar."
Realizing the sensitive nature of his patient, the
Doctor cautiously remarked that Randolph had been
an invalid so long that he must have acquired a correct
knowledge of the general course of practice suited to his
case; to which he answered: "Certainly, at 40 a fool or
physician, you know." And when the Doctor observed
that there were idiosyncracies in many constitutions, and
proceeded to ascertain what was peculiar about his, he
said: "I have been an idiosyncracy all my life." "All
preparations of camphor invariably injure me," he
asserted. As to ether, it would blow him up; but that he
was accustomed to the free use of opium in some form or
other the Doctor soon learned. Indeed, on one occasion
Randolph told Dr. Parrish either that he did or could
take opium like a Turk.

In the course of the interview, Randolph introduced the
subject of the Quakers, praising them in his characteristic
way for their "neatness, economy, order, and comfort in
everything." "Right in everything except politics," he
affirmed, "There always twistical"; and, before the
Doctor departed, Randolph repeated a part of the Episcopal
Litany with apparent fervor. He felt so wretched
that he requested Badger to remain with him all night;
which Badger readily consented to do; but, in a few
minutes, he asked him whether he had a wife, and, when
Badger replied that he had, he said: "I'll not keep you
from your wife; go home; go to your wife"; and Badger
had to go.

The next morning, Dr. Parrish was aroused by a
summons from his patient, and, when he called on him,
Randolph apologized in handsome terms for sending for
him, and, from that time on until he died, the Doctor
attended him regularly. Ill as he was, the same day,
with Badger as a companion, he was driven up Arch Street

as far as Broad and then down Chestnut Street as far as
the United States Bank, where Nicholas Biddle, its president,
came outside at his request, and conversed with
him. As he went along with Badger, he pointed out
various houses to him, and told him who occupied them
when he was in Philadelphia as a member of Congress.

He was a trying patient. Several times, Dr. Parrish
found it necessary to say to him that, while he felt every
disposition to treat him with kindness and respect, he was
not insensible to what was due to himself. Once when
the Doctor proposed a medical consultation, leaving to
Randolph the choice of the consulting physician, the
latter assured the Doctor that he had entire confidence
in him, but objected to the proposal with the remark:
"In a multitude of counsel there is confusion; it leads to
weakness and indecision; the patient may die while the
doctors are staring at each other."

Dr. Parrish tells us that he found that, beneath Randolph's
irritability, petulance, and impatience, there were
some noble traits of character and a keen sense of propriety
which awaited only the right sort of appeal to
manifest itself. Once, when the Doctor suggested something
for his relief, he pettishly but positively rejected
the suggestion; but, when the Doctor renewed it, his good
sense asserted its control; he apologized, and was as
submissive as an infant. Whenever the Doctor parted
with him, especially at night, he would receive the most
affectionate acknowledgments from him; generally with
the addition: "God bless you, He does bless you, and He
will bless you!" One day he told Dr. Parrish that his
poor John was worn down by fatigue and had been compelled
to go to bed. Another person then took John's
place, but he complained that, while this man was most
attentive to him, neither he nor the Doctor were like John,
who knew where to place his hand on anything in a large
quantity of baggage prepared for an European voyage.

Randolph's breathing became so bad in consequence of
obstructed expectoration that he requested the Doctor to
perform the operation of tracheotomy on him; for he could
not live, he said, unless relieved. So eager, however, as
always, was his interest in all the concerns of life, that, at
this same interview, he had a newspaper brought to him,
looked it over, and, after pointing out to the Doctor a
part of it, headed "Cherokee," asked the Doctor to read
it. In reading, the Doctor pronounced the word "omnipotence"
as if it were pronounced "omni-po-tence."
Randoph checked him instantly, and pronounced the
word as Walker pronounced it; and, when the Doctor
attempted to defend himself, Randolph, without contradicting
him, simply said quickly: "Pass on." Continuing
his reading, the Doctor pronounced the word "impetus"
as if its e were long. Again he was promptly corrected,
and, when he hesitated about accepting the
correction, he was told quickly as before: "There can be
no doubt about it." When the Doctor ended and remarked
that there was a great deal of sublimity in the
composition, Randolph referred to the Mosaic account
of creation and reciting, "Let there be light and there
was light," observed: "There is sublimity!"

Even now the hope of getting off for Europe still lingered
with him, and, when he found that he could not take
the packet at Philadelphia, he formed the resolution of
taking the packet at New York; and, when he found that
his condition made even this impracticable, he decided
that he would go on to New England to see Andrew
Jackson, who was then in that portion of the United
States.

The morning of the day that Randolph died, Dr.
Parrish received an early and urgent message from him,
begging him to call to see him. When the Doctor reached
the sick room, there were several persons about Randolph;
but they all soon left except John. Dr. Parrish remarked

to John that the latter had seen his master very low several
times before, and yet he had revived, and that, perhaps, he
would do so again; but Randolph interjected: "John
knows better than that." The Doctor had not been long
in the room when Randolph looked at him fixedly and
announced. "I confirm every disposition in my will,
especially that respecting my slaves, whom I have manumitted,
and for whom I have made provision." Dr.
Parrish assured him that he was rejoiced to hear him
make such a statement, and soon afterwards, when he was
about to leave the apartment for the purpose of calling
on another patient, Randolph said in positive terms:
"You must not go; you cannot; you shall not leave me";
calling to John as he uttered these words to take care that
the Doctor did not leave the room. John obeyed by
locking the door and reporting to his master: "Master,
I have locked the door and got the key in my pocket.
The Doctor cannot go now." So agitated was Randolph
by this incident that he even said to the Doctor: "If you
do go, you need not return." When the Doctor, however,
appealed to his better feelings, reminding him of the duty
that as a doctor he owed to another human being who
might need his assistance, Randolph's manner instantly
changed, and he said: "I retract that expression," and,
perhaps, a quarter of an hour afterwards, giving the
Doctor an expressive look, he again said: "I retract that
expression." When the Doctor told him that he thought
that he understood clearly his purpose in regard to his
slaves, and took it for granted that the will would explain
the matter fully, he replied under the influence of an
hallucination:

Dr. Parrish, of course, knowing nothing of the laws of
Virginia, felt the force of such reasoning. Randolph
then said: "John told me this morning, `Master, you are
dying';" and the Doctor made no attempt to keep the
truth from him. On the contrary, he assured Randolph
that he would be entirely candid with him, and informed
him that he had been rather surprised that he had
lasted so long. Thereupon, Randolph made his preparations
to die; John, obeying his directions as if everything
had been thoroughly preconcerted between them.
The gold stud, which had belonged to his father, was, agreeably
with his command, placed in his shirt bosom by John,
as we have mentioned in a previous chapter. At his request,
a napkin was also placed upon his breast by John.
For a short time, he lay perfectly quiet with his eyes closed,
and Dr. Parrish thought that he was inclined to sleep;
but suddenly he roused himself and exclaimed: "Remorse!
Remorse!", uttering the word the second time at the top
of his voice in a state of great excitement, and then crying
out: "Let me see the word." Dr. Parrish thought it
prudent to remain wholly silent. Randolph continued:
"Get a dictionary—let me see the word." The Doctor
looked about him and told Randolph that he believed
that there was none in the room. "Write it down then,"
commanded Randolph. "Let me see the word." The
Doctor picked up one of Randolph's cards from the table
with the words "Randolph of Roanoke" on it, and asked
whether he should write the word "Remorse" on that.
"Yes, nothing more proper," replied Randolph. At this,

with his pencil, the Doctor wrote the word "Remorse" on
the card, and Randolph took it into his hands hurriedly,
and fastened his eyes on it with great intensity. "Remorse,
you have no idea what it is—you can form no idea of it
whatever; it has contributed to bring me to my present
situation; but I have looked to the Lord Jesus Christ and
hope I have obtained pardon." He then said: "Now let
John take the pencil and draw a line under the word";
which was accordingly done. The Doctor asked what
disposition was to be made of the card, and he replied:
"Put it in your pocket and take care of it; when I am
dead, look at it."

Realizing that testimony, originating in circumstances
so extraordinary as those which surrounded him, might
well be questioned, if Randolph's intentions in regard to
his slaves were ever brought into dispute, Doctor Parrish
suggested that some additional persons should be called
in to hear the same declaration that Randolph had made
to him, and to remain with Randolph until his death; and,
when the Doctor proposed his son, Dr. Isaac Parrish, and
his young friend and late pupil, Dr. Francis West, as the
proper persons for the purpose, Randolph, as soon as he
found that West was a brother of his sea-captain friend,
exclaimed: "Send for him, he is the man; I will have him."

Before the door was unlocked, so as to allow of the exit
of Dr. Parrish, Randolph pointed to a bureau, and asked
the Doctor to take his remuneration for his services from
it; but the Doctor objected, saying that he would feel as
though he were acting indelicately, were he to comply.
Without pressing the subject further, Randolph merely
remarked: "In England, it is always customary."

Dr. Isaac Parrish and Dr. Francis West were sent for
and soon arrived. When they entered the room, Randolph
was sitting in bed, propped up with pillows, and, as
he was very susceptible to cold, in his emaciated condition,
his head had been covered with a blanket in the form of a

hood, crowned with an old hat. After the witnesses had
been admitted, and he had shaken hands very cordially
with Dr. West, and inquired after his brother, Randolph
requested that Edmund Badger be sent for; and, as soon
as Badger had come, he asked the three doctors—Dr.
Joseph Parrish, Dr. Isaac Parrish, and Dr. Francis West—
to gather around his bed; which they did in a semi-circle.
Then he made the declaration that they were desired to
attest.

And at this point, raising his arm as high as he could, he
brought his open hand down on the shoulder of John, who
stood near him weeping; saying as he did so: "Especially
for this man." He then asked each of the doctors in turn
whether they understood him, shooting out his long,
historic forefinger at each as he made the inquiry, and
obtained from each an affirmative reply.

After the declaration had been made, Dr. Parrish
explained to Dr. Isaac Parrish and Dr. West the significance
of the ceremony as it had been explained to him by
Randolph, and appealed to Randolph to know whether
he had made a correct statement. "Yes," replied Randolph,
gracefully dismissing the group with a wave of his
hand, and adding: "The young gentlemen will remain
with me."

Other information about the last moments of Randolph's
life has been given to us by Dr. Francis West and
Condy Raguet. In the course of the morning, his friends
William J. Barksdale, Henry A. Watkins, and John S.
Barbour called to see him. "They can do no harm or
good," he said, "let them come up."

For some time, after the witnesses had been called in,
his mind continued wholly clear; but then began to give
way quite rapidly. He was very restless, and exhibited
considerable impatience when his wishes were not speedily
gratified. One moment, he would ask that the fire be replenished,
and, another, that fresh air be let into the apartment.
Once or twice, his eyes were cheated by illusions.
He attempted to scribble a letter to Judge Coalter, who,
he said, was living just over the way. The old sensual
visions, which he had seen the year before at Roanoke,
came back, and yet his innate sense of modesty once
manifested itself so strongly as to excite the attention of
Dr. Francis West. At times, he was so fearful of suffocation
that he begged Dr. Francis West, as he had begged
Dr. Joseph Parrish, to perform the operation of tracheotomy
on him, and, when Dr. West declined to perform it,
even called for a knife with which to perform it himself.
"The old Doctor," he said, "was too timid to do it, and
so were the young ones." Finally, his desires could
hardly be apprehended, so indistinctly were they now
expressed either by word or gesture. His breathing
gradually became shorter; his knees, which had been
slightly elevated, as he sat in bed, fell to one side; there
was a slight facial contortion, his spirit forsook its wasted
habitation, and its flight was so natural that it was difficult
to say just when it departed. Fifteen minutes to twelve

o'clock, midday, on Friday, May 24, 1833, is the moment
to which the event was referred by Dr. Joseph Parrish. (a).

Shortly after Randolph attempted to write his letter
to Judge Coalter, he fumbled away at another note, and
handed it to Condy Raguet, who was also present when he
died, and asked him to send it to Chatham, Virginia. It
was addressed to his beloved niece, Mrs. John Randolph
Bryan, and her husband, and, so far as its wandering
thoughts are decipherable, it reads as follows:

Even with Azrael darkening his doorway, he was still
travelling the long and arduous road between Washington
and Roanoke.[9]

After Randolph's death, his body was exposed to public
view at the City Hotel; and was inspected by a great
concourse of people; (b) and, on May 25, a public meeting
of the citizens of Philadelphia was convoked in the Court
Room of the United States District Court in that City for
the purpose of paying a tribute of respect to his memory.
The gathering was addressed by the celebrated lawyers,
Horace Binney and John Sergeant.[10] Appropriately
enough, the body, after being brought by water to Baltimore,
was conveyed to Norfolk in the steamboat, Pocohontas,
and from Norfolk to Richmond in the steamboat,

Patrick Henry. It arrived in Richmond on May 28, and
the next day, after a funeral service, it was taken to Roanoke.
Thirteen minute guns were fired when the funeral
cortège commenced the journey from Richmond, and a
great multitude of people followed it as far as the toll-gate
on Mayo's Bridge.[11] When the body arrived at Roanoke,
it was buried under a tall pine in a spot not more than one
hundred and fifty feet from the front door of one of the
two dwellings which constituted Randolph's home, and, in
accordance with his directions, his grave was marked only
by a rude stone from his plantation which he had selected
for the purpose.

In December, 1879, all the vestiges of him that time
had spared were gathered up by John Randolph Bryan
and his son, Joseph Bryan, and interred in Hollywood
Cemetery in Richmond.[12] Two persons, who were present
at the disinterment, Dennis E. Morgan and Henry E.
Edmunds, had been present at the interment. So deep
was the grave, in which Randolph was buried, that, for a
time, after the work of exhumation had been diligently
prosecuted, it looked as if the search for the body might
be a wholly disappointing one; and, when it was discovered,
true to the local tradition which had always prevailed in
the neighborhood of Roanoke, it was found that Randolph
had been interred, not with his face to the East,
as was customary, but to the West; so, it was said, that he
might still keep an eye, even after death, on Henry Clay.
In a letter to the author,[13] Mr. Briscoe B. Bouldin, one of
the persons present at the disinterment, tells him that,
when the interior of the coffin was exposed, the outlines
of the figure could be plainly seen, though there
was only black dust to mark them. The hair, that irrepressible
appendage of our mortal being, seemed natural,

Mr. Bouldin says. Another eye-witness told Mr. J. H.
Whitty, the well-known editor of Poe's poems, that the
root of a tree had penetrated the skull.[14] Death had not
only stricken him down but had insultingly trampled
upon him. (a)