this Union is gone!" Then pausing for near a minute, raising his finger in that emphatic manner so peculiar to his action as a speaker, and seeming, as it were, to breathe more freely, he continued-" There is one man, and one man only, who can save this Union-that man is HENRY CLAY. I know he has the power, I believe he will be found to have the patriotism and firmness equal to the occasion."

Mr. Clay did not disappoint his expectations. Whatever may be said of him as a statesman, none can deny that he is a true-hearted patriot. With parental fondness he cherished his American system -with unyielding pertinacity contended for it to the last extremitybut when it became a question between that and the integrity of the Union, he did not hesitate; like Abraham, he was ready to sacrifice his own offspring on the altar of his country, and to see the fond idols he had cherished perish one by one before his lingering eyes. Mainly through his efforts the Compromise bill of 1833 was passed, the principle of protection abandoned, the duties reduced, South Carolina satisfied, her honor preserved, and the Union saved. But let not Jackson be too lightly condemned. He had a difficult task to perform; aside from the heresies of his Proclamation we have not condemned him. There were the laws on the statute book; he had labored to get them modified: but however much he might disapprove of their character, or sympathize with those on whose shoulders they fell as a grievous burthen, so long as they were laws, he was bound to see them enforced. He was not the man to shrink from his duty, and promptly declared that they should be enforced. This was an awful moment for the Republic.

The most important experiment in the history of government had to be tried. The trial had to be made, whether State sovereignty was of any avail, or the Federal Government absolute and omnipotent. Had Carolina failed, we should have gone down like the Roman Republic, into a consolidated empire, with all power concentrated in the capitol, and governed by venality and corruption. Had Jackson failed in his duty, and suffered the laws to be put at defiance with impunity, the fraternal bonds of this Union would have been dissolved, and we should have existed for a time as petty States, in perpetual warfare, until some master should arise to govern them, or they should fall, as exhausted provinces, into the hands of European power. In this awful moment, when disrupture and civil war seemed inevitable,

that magnanimous spirit of compromise, in which the Constitution. was framed, again rescued it from destruction. And so will it ever be while the States have independence and courage to assert their rights, and patriot souls shall guide the helm of affairs.

This was the auspicious moment for John Randolph to depart. He died in the midst of the battle, but the victory had been won. The doctrine of State rights, ingrafted on the Constitution by George Mason, developed by Jefferson, expounded by Madison, and practised by himself, had once more triumphed—a strict construction of the Constitution, a total abstinence from the exercise of all powers not specifically granted, an abandonment to the States of the right to control all things affecting their internal and domestic affairs, was once again to become the rule of action to the Federal Government, and to be the means of developing a prosperity in the several States, unparalleled in the annals of history, and of exciting among them a generous spirit of emulation, causing each to strive with all the means of this inventive age, to excel the other in the various walks of industry, in the arts of peace, in the deeds of arms, and in noble acts of chivalry, that will cast a lustre over this great Republic, uneclipsed by the most brilliant achievements of ancient or modern times.

For this glorious consummation, we are indebted to John Randolph, more than to any other man. His bold and masterly efforts arrested that centripetal tendency which was rapidly destroying the counterbalance of the States, and making them, instead of what they are, proud independent sovereignties, jealous of their peculiar rights, and prompt to defend them, mere abject provinces, bowing patiently to encroachment so long as largesses were bestowed by the bountiful hand of an all-powerful and concentrated empire.

Let not the absurd notion then be repeated, that he was powerful to pull down, but feeble to build up. There it was, already built up, that beautiful system, unknown to the world before, an imperium in imperio; he had nothing to add to the design of those who projected it-leave it to its own beautiful and simple operations, and like the solar system, we should scarcely know of its existence save by the genial influence shed on the various planets that composed it; he taught a wise and masterly inactivity-add nothing to clog its motion-nothing to hurry it to rack and ruin, like an unbalanced ho

rologue, and the States and the Union in perpetual harmony, will

move,

"Like a star that maketh not haste,

That taketh not rest;

each one fulfilling

His God-given hest."

CHAPTER

XLIV.

"I HAVE BEEN SICK ALL MY LIFE."-DEATH.

MR. RANDOLPH attempted to go to the different counties of his old district, in the month of April, and to address the people on the days of election, but he did not succeed. On the 14th of April, he writes to Dr. Brockenbrough. "Your letter of the 4th was received here (Charlotte Court-house) last night, on my return from Buckingham. I made an effort to attend that election, but was obliged to return re infecta, and reached this place so done up by fatigue, that I have not been able to get on to Roanoke. Exercise by gestation is indispensable to my existence; from ten to twenty miles are requisite to enable me to support life. I am now scuffling to get to England in the May packet. Whether I shall succeed or not, I propose being in Richmond immediately after the Cumberland election, if not sooner." He was at Cumberland on the day of election, and started that evening for Richmond; but was compelled to turn in at Clay Hill, the residence of his friend Barksdale in Amelia. On the 23d, he says: "Although more than half dead when taken out of my carriage, and enduring excessive pain, I passed a better night than I have had for two months, and was in every respect far better this morning, than I had been within that period; and I feel satisfied that exercise by gestation, if I take enough of it, will greatly remit my exhausted system. However, while I was chuckling over my success. I suffered a fatal relapse, and the day has been spent in stupor and pain, which did not allow me to dispense with Johnny's presence and services. Deo volente, he will set out to-morrow by day with this letter." From George W. Johnson's, near Moody's, Chesterfield Thursday, May 2d, he writes: "I am here very ill. I have little expectation of ever leaving this apartment, except on men's shoul

ders; an act of imprudence on the night of my arrival has nearly sealed my doom. Yet with my characteristic reaction, I may go to Petersburg to-morrow, and on Monday, to Richmond. Pray, secure me, if practicable, a parlor and bedroom adjoining, on a lower floor, and speak to Ball to reserve stalls for five horses and three servants. If my dear brother Harry be not gone, entreat him to come to me on the receipt of this. If I can, I will take the packet from the Delaware for London, avoiding the Irish Channel, which is the worst as the English S. Coast is the best of climates."

He did go on to Petersburg, attended the races, made a speech, passed through Richmond, and from the Merry Oaks, Friday, May 17, he writes:

"Arrived here last night, through torrents of rain that deluged the roads, and made them run like rivers, John and Juba, as wet as drowned rats, but it was an admirable sedative (you are an Embro' man, and possibly a disciple of Cullen) for John's over stimulant. Quant à moi, I came every foot of the way in torture, having been so lumbered by John, that I might as well have been in the pillory, and each jolt over stone, stump, or pole, or old fence rails left in the road, when the new one was made, or the old one upset' for the benefit of travelling carriages, those of gentlemen in especial, as the Waverly man has it.

"At Botts's gate, Half Sink, I was fain to call and ask the price of his land, and sponge upon him for the night, for I was in agony, but he was gone to the Baltimore races. So, after making some better arrangements, and watering the tits which were half choked with thirst, I proceeded on over the slashes and 'cross ways' with peine forte et dure, to the old oaks, ignorant until then that the stage road had been changed, or I would have taken the other, except on account of the house. If Botts's land lay in any other county, except Henrico, and especially if it were on the south side, I would buy it and take my chance for selling Spring Hill, which except in point of soil, has every advantage over Half Sink."

This was the last letter ever written by Mr. Randolph, to his most cherished and confidential friend. He had, in his last journey, passed rapidly by most of the scenes rendered dear to him by the recollections of youth, and by the fond associations of love and friendship; and it so happened that he saw most of the few friends that were left him this side of the grave. What recollections were called up, as he passed for the last time through Amelia-love! love! blighted love! deeply buried in his heart's inmost core! as he passed through Ches

terfield, and looked for the last time on the tombs of his beloved father and mother, at old Matoax, where he had so long wished to lie down and be at rest-Petersburgh-Richmond-there were a few left that still cared for him, that loved him, and warmly pressed his fevered hand as he passed rapidly by, on his last journey. They were now all behind him, and he might exclaim, as he did on a former occasion, when he heard of the death of one endeared by early, though mournful recollections:

"Days of my cherished youth,

When all unfelt Time's footsteps fell,

And all unheeded flew,

Dreams of the morn of life, farewell! a long, a last farewell!”

Mr. Randolph reached the landing at Potomac creek, before the arrival of the steamboat, and considerably in advance of the Fredericksburg stage-coaches, which could not keep pace with his fleet horses.

When the approach of the boat was announced, he was brought out of the room by his servants, on a chair, and seated in the porch, where most of the stage passengers were assembled. His presence seemed to produce considerable restraint on the company; and though he appeared to solicit it, none were willing to enter into conversation; one gentleman only, who was a former acquaintance, passed a few words with him; and so soon as the boat reached the landing, all hurried off, and left him nearly alone, with his awkward servants as his only attendants. An Irish porter, who seemed to be very careless and awkward in his movements, slung a trunk round and struck Mr. Randolph with considerable force against the knee. He uttered an exclamation of great suffering. The poor Irishman was much terrified, and made the most humble apology, but Mr. Randolph stormed at him-would listen to no excuse, and drove him from his presence. This incident increased the speed of the by-standers, and in a few minutes not one was left to assist the dying man.

Dr. Dunbar, an eminent physician, of Baltimore, witnessing what happened, and feeling his sympathies awakened towards a man so feeble, and apparently so near his end, walked up to the chair, as the servants were about to remove their master, and said, "Mr. Randolph, I have not the pleasure of your acquaintance, but I have known your brother from my childhood; and as I see you have no one with