too much engrossed by these events, and by the feverish state of Europe, to attend to subjects which may as well be settled next year as now, not being of pressing necessity, and Russia having but a secondary interest in them. If my health shall permit, and there be the most remote prospect of success in the objects we have in view (or any of them), I shall return as soon as the Baltic is open." On the 19th of February he writes to Dr. Brockenbrough:

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"Count Nesselrode, who says that Mr. Randolph has justly anticipated the cause of delay on the part of the Imperial Ministry,' promises me as speedy an answer as the present disturbed state of Europe will permit them to give. It commenced in July last, and the political atmosphere seems to thicken. I shall probably return to Russia in April or May, and I fear that I shall have to pass another winter in Europe-south of the Alps, of course. The barking of the curs against me in Congress I utterly despise. I think I can see how some of them, if I were present, would tuck their tails between their hind legs, and slink-aye, and stink too. Perhaps the time may come when I may see some of them, not face to face, for their eyes could not meet mine, I know by experience.

"I could give you a great deal of speculation upon the present state of Europe; for when I please, I can be as dull as another; but perhaps the next advices might overthrow all my conjectural estimates, and leave me, like other builders of theories, a laughing-stock, until some new folly took off attention from my case. It remains to be seen whether Philip Louis, who is no Philip Augustus, can arrest the march of the revolution of July, and chain France to the car of the Holy Alliance. Here I am in the focus of European intrigue, and watching like a cat. I think, however, it requires not the eyes of a lynx, or any other of the feline tribe, to see that this present 'government,' as 'tis the fashion to call it, have no stomach to reform or to liberalism, or to any thing but the emoluments and patronage of office. There are illustrious exceptions-Lord Althorp and Sir James Graham, for example-but my Lord Grey & Co. are of a very different temper."

May 2d, he writes: "The heroic resistance of the Poles has found ample occupation for the councils as well as the arms of Rus sia; but I fear that the contest cannot be prolonged beyond the present season. It makes one's heart sick to think of the catastrophe. My thoughts are shared between the Poles and my friends at home; a sinking of the heart comes over me when I think of either; a sensation inexplicable, but most painful."

June 4th, he speaks of the late political changes at home: "Yesterday, with your letter, I received the intelligence of the resignation of our cabinet. The course of events during the past year is enough to perplex and puzzle abler judgments than mine. I have read the

letters of V. B. and the P. more than once, and with intense interest. At this distance, and with my imperfect knowledge of the state of affairs, it may be presumptuous in me to give an opinion; but by such lights as I have, the step taken by V. B. seems manly and judicious-worthy of his character, and of his attachment to Gen'l Jackson, whose reply is worthy of all praise. I cannot help feeling the deepest concern for the old hero, thus, as it were, left to struggle alone against his foes; and I sincerely and devoutly pray, that he may form an administration that will contribute to his repose and glory, as well as the welfare of his country. . .

Lord Palmerston entertained the corps diplomatique, in honor of the king's birth-day, and did me the honor to include me in his invitation. I went, because I did not feel at liberty to decline. It was, as you may suppose, very grand, but very dull. I was flattered by his lordship's polite attentions, and gratified by the cordial reception of P. Lieven, with whom I had a good deal of conversation."

"If I abstain," says he, June 16, "from saying any thing on politics, it is not because I feel indifferent to the state of public opinion at home. Far from it; and I hope, when you get to New-York, that your promised letter will enlighten me on that head. The events which have taken place during my absence, seem to have unhinged and unsettled every thing. It is a matter of self-gratulation to all who are unconnected with them.”

In the autumn, Mr. Randolph returned to the United States, much reduced in health. When he landed in New-York, his old friend, Mr. Harvey, hastened to see him, and was greatly shocked at his emaciated appearance. "His eagle-eye," says he, “detected, by my countenance, what was passing in my mind, and he said, in a mournful tone of voice: Ah, Sir, I am going at last; the machine is worn out; nature is exhausted, and I have tried in vain to restore her.' Why,' replied I, forcing a smile, 'you told me the same thing some years ago, and yet here you are still.' True,' rejoined he,

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'but I am seven years nearer the grave.'

CHAPTER XLII.

OPIUM EATER.

On his way home, October, 1831, Mr. Randolph spent a few days in Richmond. He was entirely prostrate-never left his bed-room

rarely his bed; but his friends visited him frequently, and they speak in raptures of his brilliant and instructive conversation. None of them detected in his discourse any thing more than an occasional "flightiness," produced by fever-aggravated, perhaps, by the use of opium, to whose soothing qualities he had been compelled to resort, to quiet the pangs of that inexorable disease, which, like the vulture in the heart of Prometheus, had plunged its talons in his vitals, and consumed them with remorseless fangs, from the cradle to the grave.

Mr. Randolph made no secret of his use of opium at this time. "I live by, if not upon opium," said he to a friend. He had been driven to it as an alleviation of a pain to which few mortals were doomed. He could not now dispense with its usc. "I am fast sinking," said he, "into an opium-eating sot, but, please God! I will shake off the incubus yet before I die; for whatever difference of opinion may exist on the subject of suicide, there can be none as to rushing into the presence of our Creator' in a state of drunkenness, whether produced by opium or brandy." To the deleterious influence of that poisonous drug, may be traced many of the aberrations of mind and of conduct, so much regretted by his friends, during the ensuing winter and spring. But he was, by no means, under its constant influence. During this period, he wrote almost daily to his friend, Dr. Brockenbrough. Those letters furnish incontestable evidence that, when they were written at least, his feelings were calm, and his judgment as unclouded as it ever had been.

He hastened up from Richmond to Charlotte Court-house, to address the people on court day, the first Monday in November. The subject of his speech, among other things, was his conduct while minister to the Court of St. Petersburgh. His anxiety to explain this matter, so unusual with him, and his coldness of manner towards his friends, caused many of them to suspect that he was not altogether himself at that time. The next Monday, he addressed the people of Buckingham. On his return next day, Nov. 15, he wrote from Charlotte Court-house to Dr. Brockenbrough:

"On my road to Buckingham, I passed a night in Farmville, in an apartment which in England they would not have thought fit for my servant; nor on the continent did he ever occupy so mean a one. Wherever I stop, it is the same-walls black and filthy-bed

and furniture sordid-furniture scanty and mean, generally brokenno mirror-no fire-irons-in short, dirt and discomfort, universally prevail, and in most private houses the matter is not mended. The cows milked half a mile off-or not got up, and no milk to be had at any distance-no jordan-in fact, the old gentry are gone and the nouveaux riches, where they have the inclination, do not know how to live. Biscuit not half cuit, every thing animal and vegetable, smeared with melted butter or lard. Poverty stalking through the land, while we are engaged in political metaphysics, and, amidst our filth and vermin, like the Spaniard and Portuguese, look down with contempt on other nations, England and France especially. We hug our lousy cloaks around us, take another chaw of tubbacker, float the room with nastiness, or ruin the grate and fire-irons, where they happen not to be rusty, and try conclusions upon constitutional points."

The great degeneracy of the times, was the constant theme of his discourse. He could not shake the sad reflection from his mind. When he thought of what Virginia had been and what she was, he was stung to the quick. His late experience of the high cultivation, the comforts, and the refinements of English society, brought the contrast of the past and the present more vividly to his recollection. Many thought him mad on this subject. But little could they comprehend the depth of his feelings, or the anguish of his soul, when he so often exclaimed, "Poor old Virginia! poor old Virginia !" What they conceived to be the ebullitions of a diseased fancy, were the lamentations of a statesman and patriot over the ruins of his country, which his prophetic eye had long foreseen, and his warning voice had in vain foretold! The old gentry are gone; none knew better than he, the force of this truth. He saw what others could not see; he saw, from the sea-board to the mountains, nothing but desolation and poverty, where the fires of a noble and generous hospitality had burned on a thousand hearths. He remembered sires and grandsires, whose degenerate sons, like the Roman youth, pointed to the statues and the monuments of their noble ancestors, instead of achieving a monument for themselves by their own great deeds.

This was the theme of Mr. Randolph's discourse at Prince Edwards Court-house, where, on the third Monday in November, he addressed the people. He passed in review all the old families of Virginia, alluded to the fathers and grandfathers of many then standing around him; spoke of their energy, sagacity, and efficient usefulness

of character. Then, addressing himself to one individual in particular, as was his custom, he said: You, sir, "will be the first to admit the higher claims of your father on the country, for general utility and energy of character. I am too old (he sportively added) to know much of his sons personally, but I will venture to affirm, that placed in your father's shoes, and having to keep off the calf whilst the wife milked the cow, you never would have achieved what he has done in point of character and fortune. The young people, now-a-days, have too much done for them, for them to exert themselves as their fathers and grandfathers have done." He then spoke of many illustrious men, whose names adorn many pages of our earliest and brightest history. Henry, Mason, and others; not one has left a son equal to their father. "In short," said he, "look at the Lees, Washingtons, Randolphs-what woful degeneracy!"

What had all this to do with the politics of the day? on which he was expected to talk to the people. Was there ever such a scatter-brain speech? Some turned away, shook their heads, and said, "the man is mad;" others maliciously misrepresented what he said, and went about telling people that he had slandered his old friends and neighbors. He struck at the root of the disease, however—probed the wound to its core; the men of seventy-six were gone; their sons, if not degenerate, were not equal to their fathers!

It cannot be denied, that Mr. Randolph attributed this great change in the condition of Virginia, mainly to the policy of Mr. Jefferson. The destruction of the law of inheritance, followed by the embargo and the non-intercourse system, he conceived, gave the finishing stroke to her prosperity. "The embargo," he said, "was the Iliad of all our woes." The blind fidelity with which the people of Virginia followed Mr. Jefferson in all his schemes, is thus humorously described: "I cannot live (says he, March, 1832,) in this miserable, undone country, where, as the Turks follow their sacred standard, which is a pair of Mahomet's green breeches, we are governed by the old red breeches of that prince of projectors, St. Thomas, of Cantingbury; and surely, Becket himself never had more pilgrims at his shrine, than the saint of Monticello."

Another source of great annoyance and excitement to Mr. Randolph, was the conduct of his negroes and overseers during his absence. He suspected that they had taken up a notion he would never