Upon hearing that she was working in my household—just working, mind you, not anything else—I received a rather nasty missive from a cousin, none other than the self-styled John Randolph of Roanoke, writing to tell me to beware my newly hired housekeeper. To say this unsolicited letter shocked me would be an understatement. It is not just the accusations therein, but the fact that a family member and a so-called gentleman would make these claims about a single young woman that alarmed and disturbed me. I cannot do this communication justice—nor can I repeat the accusations against such a lady—without allowing it to speak for itself. Thus, please find here the message itself received from John Randolph.
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Dearest Mr. Morris,
You likely have heard of my name. I am a Representative of the Commonwealth of Virginia and must admit that I share a distant but familial connection to the young woman who you have invited into your household. Your housekeeper, Ann Cary Randolph, was once known here in Virginia as Nancy Randolph. While you may know that she was involved in the scandal that led to my brother’s trial and exoneration, you likely do not know the full story of the so-called Bizarre Scandal. I implore you to not believe what this young woman tells you. She will likely admit that she was, in fact, pregnant at the time of the scandal—or shortly before—and that the father of the child was my dearly departed older brother Theo. Such an easy excuse to make, such an easy scapegoat is a dead man.
But you will now find, Mr. Morris, that her partner in scandal, my wonderful eldest brother Richard has also left this world. He cannot appear by my side to tell you of the treachery of the woman you have invited into your home, her tricks and seductions. She is an evil woman and her greatest trick is leading good men astray.
You will know of the story that led to my brother’s trial, that Nancy was impregnated and seduced one or both of my brothers. You know they accused her—along with my poor, innocent brother—of killing her own child that night at Glentivar. So intent was she on avoiding the scandal of having a child that she would kill her own innocent babe.
That much you know. What you will not know is that this is a woman who has not stopped killing or living a lascivious life since the moment she arrived at Bizarre plantation as a young girl. You see, good sir, just three years after the trial that showed the innocence of my brother Richard, he died after a short but painful battle with stomach pains. By the time that the doctors arrived to Bizarre, it was too late. The only people who had been with Richard were his sainted wife, Judith, his two young boys, and Nancy Randolph.
You may say that any young man could die of any number of ailments even if he had been hale and hearty. You could also say that every single detail surrounding the death of Richard looked to be the way one would expire if they had been systematically but surely poisoned. Nancy had already been accused of killing one person—her own baby—so why not kill the man who remained a loving family man to his wife despite her best efforts? And I will also remind you and all the world that Nancy’s own sister-in-law—the wife of Nancy’s horrid husband Thomas Mann Randolph the younger—let the entire world know that Nancy had a working knowledge of plants and herbs. Including those that can kill a baby.
Even after Richard died under suspicious circumstances, she did not immediately leave Bizarre. If you must know the truth, she was likely having unchristian relations with a slave boy of pure African descent. Judith and I think it is even possible that she found herself with child with that bastard spawn, apparently killing it as well.
Finally, after years of putting food in the mouth of this treacherous and vile creature, Judith was able to rid herself of Nancy. Once she left Bizarre, she found that family members were not willing to open their doors to such a woman. She has lived in a variety of rented rooms, often at the expense of innocent family members who feel badly that she has been so reduced. Between you and me, sir, it would appear during at least one period in her life, Nancy had to work to support herself. If you do not understand my attempts at discretion, please know I mean to suggest that she earned money as a common prostitute.
Sir, I have followed this horrible creature for nearly twenty years, insuring the safety of my family and the public from her manipulative and murderous ways. She can smile warmly and create the illusion that she is nothing more than a sweet and proper lady. And she can then create a wake of family discord, scandal, and even death as she passes through your life. Do not be deceived, do not find yourself to be her next victim.
Signed, John Randolph of Roanoke
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Well, Mr. Marshall, you can imagine my concern upon receiving such a letter. But my worry is not about Nancy but rather for her. Even if the worst were true—that she and her sister’s husband engaged in a love affair that resulted in a failed pregnancy—does that merit such accusations or a lifetime of being hounded by a distant family member. My God, the woman was simply trying to work as a housekeeper in a respectable home. But that, for a woman who was raised in a household of slaves and servants, is rather a step down socially, I would gather. This is not a person attempting to move up and out of her sphere. This is a humble woman seeking to support herself as best she can. And while she has been running my household she has been upright, circumspect, and frugal. She has done nothing to encourage my affections and I do not think she would ever dream that I am considering asking her to become the mistress of the home she now oversees for room and board.
John, all that said, I feel that I must do my diligence in addressing these accusations. I can then in both good faith, and with good evidence to the contrary, address Mr. Randolph of Roanoke in his claims. I must further my honesty: I have never cared for this particular Randolph. His theatrics in Congress do not equal a wise or passionate statesman but rather a small man playing the role of a great one. He is no such thing and a man who would bully and sully a defenseless woman can never be called great.
I know that you have an intimate knowledge of the events surrounding the Bizarre incident. I do not ask you to speak against your oath of confidentiality, nor do I ask that you go behind Nancy’s back in any form. What I am asking, if you feel it is appropriate to answer, is to respond to these accusations and speak whether you feel this is in the character of the young girl you knew in 1793. They do not match with the actions and behavior of the woman who has captured my heart.
Much obliged, Gov. Morris
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Letter from John Marshall to Gouverneur Morris
Dearest Gouverneur,
How delightful to hear from you. I am doubly pleased to know the impetus of your message was not even so much the odd missive from Randolph of Roanoke, but the underlying reason. Namely, that you have found happiness with Nancy Randolph.
I have to smile thinking of the so-called Bizarre case. The whole case was a nightmare, but it was good to work with Mr. Henry. He and I had the honor of defending two cases that year although the other was far less sensational as the Randolph family scandal. I didn’t know it at the time, but Patrick was growing frail. He carried on for another six years, but it was not a surprise to hear he had passed in 1799. It was not a surprise, but it was a sad note to receive. For all his bluster and theatrics, Patrick was a brave and loyal statesman and a dedicated attorney. All citizens of this great nation should remember fondly him.
Now, what I must admit is that Patrick may have answered your letter differently than I will. Not that his conclusion would differ from mine, but he would be more cynical and acerbic than I shall be. By the end of the Bizarre trial, Patrick was well and completely over any feelings of affection for any member of the Randolph family. It did not help that he had to sue—successfully I might add—Richard Randolph for payment of his fees after years of asking for him to honor his agreement. Such a thing can spoil any good feelings you may have about a victorious case.
I think it would be safe to assume that Patrick would tell you that I liked your beloved far more than he did. It wasn’t necessarily that he di
sliked her on moral grounds, but that she consistently used the logic that only a young person can, constantly jeopardizing her own freedom to try to “help” the case. She was intent to prove that Richard was not guilty of the crimes charged. I believe she was very worried about him taking the blame for her indiscretions. A more cynical person would point out that clearing Richard would also clear her name by implication.
I knew Nancy well over the several months I worked with her and Richard Randolph. I saw their relationship, as well as her relationship with other family members, including her sister and Richard’s brother, John. I will admit that I found them to be an odd bunch and there were times that I doubted I was being told the whole story. I know that Patrick figured quite strongly that they had only told us about ten percent of the story. What she did tell us—and I do not believe either of us had reason to doubt this—was exactly what she told you. A teenage Nancy Randolph arrived at Bizarre to find a brother-in-law and cousin just her age in Theodorick Randolph. He was not well and quickly became ill, but not before the young people fell in love and determined to marry. I agree with your observation that they are not the first couple to find themselves in the family way prior to a wedding. Unfortunately, Theo died before they could legitimize their relationship.
What happened at Glentivar remained a mystery to both myself and Patrick long after the case against Richard wrapped up. We argued the reasonable doubt that Nancy and Richard had killed a baby; we did not argue an alternate scenario. Perhaps Nancy miscarried, perhaps she treated herself with gum guaiacum as Pasty Jefferson Randolph testified and brought forth a miscarriage. But why would she do such a thing at someone else’s home? No, it was our thought that she most certainly miscarried that night at Glentivar. In other words, my friend, all the logical conclusions pointed to the fact that Nancy lost a baby that night through completely natural causes just as she claimed. Both she and her family apparently thought covering up the truth would protect them all. They were all wrong.
To the accusation that Nancy Randolph escaped prosecution and turned around to kill her brother-in-law: Ridiculous. She seemed only to want to help him through the whole trial. I suppose the argument is that she was in love with him and he abandoned her for his wife (I, too, have heard John Randolph’s disgusting rumors). If she was bent on killing anyone, you would think it would be her sister, the impediment to her happiness. Judith, however, is healthy and hearty to this day.
I cannot speak to what Nancy may have done these past years to pay her room and board. I am not accusing her of prostitution. I suggest that a few years after the trial, she disappeared from Virginia society. Her family had shut her out and the last I knew of her, she had to live in very reduced conditions in a rented room in a poor and disreputable part of town. It was a sad fall from grace for a young woman who had grown up as a belle of Tuckahoe. She had no friends, no family support.
I will be more clear: Not only did Nancy Randolph have no family support, she has been hounded by her family. I had some contact with her many years ago and she reported that her sister Judith had been turned against her by John Randolph. After living with Judith and her two nephews for years, Nancy was definitively turned out. Anytime she has found a place to call home, John Randolph of Roanoke, Richard’s youngest brother, finds her and drives her out by telling everyone around her about her supposed misdeeds. I would posit that every telling becomes more inflammatory and hate-filled.
I am not really more than a passing acquaintance of John Randolph of Roanoke. He had not yet self-styled himself as such at the time of his brother’s trial. My few interactions with him then were with an impetuous and angry young man distraught about his eldest brother facing charges so egregious. Of all the Randolphs, he seemed the most incensed that one of their own could even face such a tribunal. Please note that that is saying quite a bit as they are an old and proud family. Even then young John was looking for an explanation, a person to blame. I fear that his search ended when he set his sights on Nancy, and he has not backed down since.
I have heard rumors and puzzling over why John is so angry. Probably the most popular and enduring theory is that John himself was in love with Nancy and never forgave her for choosing his brother Theo over him. Somehow this rejection was compounded when rumors spread that Richard was also in love with her. It was as if something shifted in John’s brain.
John was humiliated that his family was dragged through the courts, the press, and the gossip mills of the county. Again, looking for a person to blame, Nancy made a good target. She was young, she was vulnerable, and she didn’t have a single defender left.
What was odd was that he never let it go after all these years. Honestly, I doubt many people care anymore what happened at Glentivar and most would be happy to hear Nancy has found happiness. John Randolph is such an odd person most people would be happy to see anyone pitted against him rise to victory.
I believe that Nancy is telling the truth that she was pregnant by Theodoric. I do not believe it would make sense that she would choose a trip off of Bizarre for any nefarious deeds. Frankly, even if she did, she has spent more than half her life paying a penance. I find it ludicrous to think of her killing Richard and so I would not sleep with one eye open once you are happily wed. My thought at this point is that Nancy is a woman who has been highly esteemed and a woman who has fallen to the bottom of society. No doubt her life on both sides of that spectrum have taught her many a life lesson. I believe she would be honored and humbled to be the wife of so esteemed a gentleman.
I hope that this letter has provided the information you needed to form your opinion. I am sorry for both you and Nancy that you even had to do such a thing, but I do not blame you for seeking reassurance; it is not many a man who receives such a missive as you upon the decision that they will ask a young lady to be their wife. You sir, have set it upon your sights to marry into a most odd and unique family. While your future wife may very well be a paragon amongst her brethren, be prepared to meet a host of bizarre figures for the years to come. I intend the pun.
Many, many happy years to you and to Nancy. Please tell her I have passed on my good word and blessing. I am both surprised and more pleased than I can say this sad and twisted tale has found a way to resolve itself in a true happily ever after. Life truly is bizarre, but not always a tragedy, it would seem.
Signed, John Marshall
AUTHOR’S NOTE & ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
An Unspeakable Crime is fiction based on a true story. At times I have created personality traits, events, or imagined behaviors based on the facts, as they are known. What is real—and likely the reason that this short-lived event lives on in our interest more than two hundred years later—is that an unmarried pregnant woman went into labor and almost ended up in the gallows.
Nancy Randolph did little to help herself as the scandal at Bizarre broke out. Certainly her family did nothing to help either, although it could be argued that Patsy Jefferson provided the defense with the information they needed to create an “out” for a pregnancy. It is not exactly clear at what point Richard and Nancy determined that they would keep their mouth’s shut about the truth at all costs, but it is certain that it did neither any favors with their own family or with public opinion.
Because their behavior was so odd, and perhaps unnecessarily so, it is hard to not look at the Randolphs of Bizarre with a critical eye. Why lie if the truth was so harmless, particularly in light of the potential consequences? One can only assume that the residents of Bizarre—all young or barely more than teenagers themselves when the scandal broke—felt that they could control the situation by pretending it wasn’t happening at all. They are not the first defendants to a criminal proceeding who are innocent of the crime accused but yet are guilty of withholding the whole truth. It has created an aura to the inquest of “not guilty” as opposed to a determination of innocence.
Her reputation would have likely been harmed by the pregnancy even if Nancy had told the truth about
Theodorick. That said, what she endured for the next several years of her life following Richard’s inquest was nothing short of tragic. She found herself utterly alone, not only being cut off from family support, but continuing to have her own family be the cause of her misery. Her brother-in-law, John of Roanoke, did continue his campaign to ruin her life. Even after Nancy found unexpected happiness with Gouverneur Morris, John continued to make baseless accusations, including an allegation that she had murdered her husband. In fact, it would seem that Nancy and Gouverneur enjoyed true happiness and she was overjoyed when her son was born. After years of doing penance for whatever wrongs, if any, she had committed as a teenager, one can only hope that Nancy Randolph found peace and joy in her later years.
The story of Nancy Randolph is fascinating in its own right, made all the more interesting by the media and courtroom circus that ensued. One can only presume that distinguished counsel for the defense was surprised by the public interest in an inquest that certainly was not the pinnacle of either lawyer’s long and respectable career. Of course, John Marshall, after a distinguished a career as a practicing attorney became Chief Justice of the nation’s relatively new Supreme Court. His rulings would help to shape the legal and political systems of the new country. He was a distant member of the Randolph family.
From a practicing lawyer’s perspective, it was almost too much to take to learn that Patrick Henry, Founding Father, distinguished attorney, and former governor of the Commonwealth of Virginia, had to sue his own client for payment. His frustrations herein are extrapolated from that fact. An Unspeakable Crime is really a love letter to Patrick Henry and all the lawyers who have taken a case that they come, very quickly, to regret. It does not appear that Mr. Henry was related to any member of the Randolph family, apparently a statistical anomaly for the time and place.
An Unspeakable Crime Page 23