CHAPTER XLIII

JOHN RANDOLPH, OF ROANOKE

THE leader of Mr. Jefferson's administration on the floor of the House in Congress was one of the most vividly picturesque figures that has ever appeared in our political history. John Randolph, of Roanoke, was born in 1773, and among his ancestors he counted not only the Scotch Earls of Murray, but Pocahontas, the daughter of a king. Whether a lineage of this sort justifies inordinate pride is a fair question for debate. That the Scotch Earls of Murray at some time or other were cattle thieves, just as most of the other feudal lords of Normandy, France, Germany, and England were plunderers by sea or land, need not be seriously doubted; yet, as earls go, they stood high. Pocahontas, too, was only the daughter of a naked Indian, who cooked his fish with the scales on and the entrails undisturbed within, while the little princess, in all the charms of unclothed nature, would play with the Jamestown boys, "turning a somerset " equal to any of them. Yet, after all, she was a princess; and just as the Prince of Wales in England walked

1 Bruce, Economic History of Virginia in the Seventeenth Century.

behind the African chief because he was a king, so the descendants of Pocahontas were proud of their descent from the alleged savior of Smith because she was a princess. Besides family pride, John Randolph inherited vast family estates-lands, houses, negroes, horses, cattle-but no cash to speak of, and the inevitable British debt. Randolph complained, early and feelingly, of the condition in which he found his estate, and refers to "the scuffle with negroes and overseers for something like a pittance of rent and profit upon my land and stock."

A Charleston bookseller, who saw Randolph in 1776, describes him as "a tall, gawky, flaxen-haired stripling, with a complexion of good parchment color, beardless chin, and as much assumed selfconfidence as any two-footed animal I ever saw." Later in life Randolph looked like an old shriveld woman. His bones had no flesh, his voice was a feminine shriek, his face was literally covered with countless wrinkles, and his color was that of old, yellow parchment. Beard he never had; and he was a bundle of nerves, whose capacity for suffering was pathetic. Things which other men of less sensitive organization would never notice tortured him to distraction. He was quick to love and to hate. There was a quality which we call "womanish in both his loves and his hates.

He was the slave of impulse and temper, irri

table to the last degree, incapable of sustained, systematic labor.

Imperfectly educated, his genius undisciplined, his faculties untrained, he was nevertheless a most effective speaker. On the hustings he was superb, a master of a crowd. When Robert Toombs was at the University of Virginia, he rode sixty miles to hear John Randolph make one of his last speeches, and Mr. Toombs always referred to it as one of the most powerful of speeches.

The self-confidence to which the Charleston book-dealer referred as assumed was not assumed. Randolph's confidence in himself was real, and was unlimited. At a public dinner in 1795 he dared to propose as a toast, "George Washington-may he be damned!"

When this sentiment met disapproval the bold youth added, "If he signs Jay's treaty."

His very first dash into politics was a race for Congress, and the first opponent whom he met in public debate was Patrick Henry. No small game for "Jack Randle." He struck at the antlered stag. He was only twenty-six when he thus threw. himself against the Washington-Henry-Marshall influence in Virginia, and he was victorious. Such a triumph was not calculated to lessen his selfesteem.

It must have been a sight to see Randolph dismount from his splendid saddle-horse at the door,

and go stalking into the House of Representatives with a cap on his head, a whip in his hand, topboots on his feet, and a pair of pointer dogs at his heels. It made no difference to him whether business had begun or not; he would loudly salute his friends, and, after drawing off his gloves, fire away at whatever subject happened to be before the House. If some member whom he disliked was on the floor he would, as apt as not, turn round, and noisily walk out.

Brilliant, eccentric, brave, honest, ready to tongue-lash anybody who offended him, cursed with a restless disposition which craved excitement, and a morbid temper which made it next to impossible for him to work in harmony with others, he tormented himself, quarreled with relatives, cast off friends, broke with political associates, and became almost an Ishmaelite. Yet a few of the best men loved him, one of the finest constituencies in America stood true to him, and a very considerable percentage of Southern people believed that he was the most clear-sighted and consistent statesman the South ever had.

Between Thomas Jefferson and John Randolph there could never have been much in common.

They were relatives, but not so close as to be intimate. They both loved books, but in a different way. John Randolph's thirty-five hundred volumes were the companions of lonely hours, to be read

whenever the whim seized him, and dropped when he was tired.

He was no student, and while his mind was richly stored with the treasures of literature, he was complete master of no subject whatever.

Irregular, insubordinate, impatient of rule or restraint, such a methodist as Jefferson was certain, sooner or later, to provoke his captain's temper and reckless tongue.

But at first, Randolph as House leader, and Jefferson as President, got on well though. One had to be extremely anxious for a row, indeed, to pick a fuss with so mild, so patient, so conciliatory, so adroit a politician as Jefferson.

The Republican party was young, it was enjoy. ing the first great victory it had won, its chief was still its prophet, nothing had yet occurred to cause divisions, and therefore during the first year or so of the Jefferson administration John Randolph, Chairman of the Ways and Means Committee and House leader for the Executive, was the most powerful man in Congress.

He was no leader. He was a boss. He drove his men by the force of his temper and the fury of his tongue. His pointed finger was a lance; his wit a sword of fire. Still, the party being obedient, the President supreme, and Randolph orthodox, he was effective. He put administrative measures through under whip and spur. So long as he spoke in the