My Dear Julia:This is your birthday, which you bid me remember, and this letter will show you that I have not forgotten it. To-day Gus Baldwin and Dr. Harbin dropped in to dinner, and we drank your good health and many more returns in health and happiness of the 15th of May. I did not tell them that you were forty, for it might be that some time or other you would not care to have them know it, and I am sure they would never suspect it unless told. In truth I can scarcely realize it myself, as you are the same lovelyand loving, true-hearted woman to me, that you were when I made you my bride, nearly twenty-three years ago. There is no other change except the superior loveliness of the full blown over the budding rose. I have thrown my mind this quiet Sunday evening over that large segment of human life (twenty-three years) since we were married, and whatever of happiness memory has treasured up clusters around you. In life's struggle I have been what men call fortunate. I have won its wealth and its honors, but I have won them by labor, and toil, and strife, whose memory saddens even success; but the pure joys of wedded love leave none but pleasant recollections which one can dwell upon with delight. These thoughts are dearer to me than to most men, because I know for whatever success in life I may have had, whatever evil I may have avoided, or whatever good I may have done, I am mainly indebted to the beautiful, pure, true-hearted little black-eyed girl, who on the 18th of November, 1830, came trustingly to my arms, the sweetest and dearest of wives. You need not fear, therefore, that I shall forget your birthday. That and our bridal-day are the brightest in my calendar, and memory will not easily part with them.Yours,Toombs.
My Dear Julia:
This is your birthday, which you bid me remember, and this letter will show you that I have not forgotten it. To-day Gus Baldwin and Dr. Harbin dropped in to dinner, and we drank your good health and many more returns in health and happiness of the 15th of May. I did not tell them that you were forty, for it might be that some time or other you would not care to have them know it, and I am sure they would never suspect it unless told. In truth I can scarcely realize it myself, as you are the same lovelyand loving, true-hearted woman to me, that you were when I made you my bride, nearly twenty-three years ago. There is no other change except the superior loveliness of the full blown over the budding rose. I have thrown my mind this quiet Sunday evening over that large segment of human life (twenty-three years) since we were married, and whatever of happiness memory has treasured up clusters around you. In life's struggle I have been what men call fortunate. I have won its wealth and its honors, but I have won them by labor, and toil, and strife, whose memory saddens even success; but the pure joys of wedded love leave none but pleasant recollections which one can dwell upon with delight. These thoughts are dearer to me than to most men, because I know for whatever success in life I may have had, whatever evil I may have avoided, or whatever good I may have done, I am mainly indebted to the beautiful, pure, true-hearted little black-eyed girl, who on the 18th of November, 1830, came trustingly to my arms, the sweetest and dearest of wives. You need not fear, therefore, that I shall forget your birthday. That and our bridal-day are the brightest in my calendar, and memory will not easily part with them.
Yours,Toombs.
So well known was this domestic trait of Mr. Toombs that Bishop Beckwith of Georgia, in delivering his funeral sermon, declared that "no knight, watching his sword before the altar, ever made a holier, truer, or purer vow than when Robert Toombs stood at the marriage altar more than fifty years ago. The fire that burned upon the altar of his home remained as pureand unfailing as the perpetual offering of Jerusalem."
Mrs. Toombs was a woman of warm heart and strong convictions. She was noted for her benevolence and piety, and these she carried through life. Her Christian example was a steadying influence often in the stormy and impetuous career of her husband, and finally, when she had closed her eyes in peace, brought him to the altar where she had worshiped. Her household and her neighbors loved to be under her influence. No one who ever saw her fine face, or her lustrous dark eyes, forgot her. Her face was, in some respects, not unlike that of her husband. It is the best tribute that can be paid to her to say that for more than fifty years her influence over so strong a character as that of Robert Toombs was most potent. In June, 1856, while driving in Augusta, the horses attached to the carriage ran away, and Mrs. Toombs was thrown from the vehicle and sustained a fracture of the hip. General Toombs hastened to Georgia from Congress, and remained incessantly at her bedside for several weeks. In November, 1880, General and Mrs. Toombs celebrated their golden wedding, surrounded by their grandchildren and friends. It was a beautiful sight to see the bride of half a century with a new wedding ring upon her finger, playing the piano, while the old man of seventy essayed, like Washington, to dance the minuet. The old couple survived their three children, and lived to bless the lives of grandchildren and great-grandchildren. They were fond and affectionate parents.
A friend, who had known them in their own home, describes "the great fire in the open fire-place; on one side the venerable statesman, with that head which always seemed to me of such rare beauty; on the other side, the quiet wife busy with home affairs, her eyes lighting, now and then, the wonderful conversation that fell from his eloquent lips."
General Toombs was a liberal provider for his family, and his grandchildren and connections were constant objects of his bounty. Large sums were spent in charity. No church or benevolent institution appealed to him in vain. His house was open, and his hospitality was princely and proverbial. No one was more genial at home. Few prominent persons ever visited Washington without being entertained by Toombs. His regular dinners to the bar of the circuit, as, twice a year, the lawyers came to Washington to court, are remembered by scores of Georgians to-day. On one occasion when the townspeople were discussing the need of a hotel, General Toombs indignantly replied that there was no need for any such place. "If a respectable man comes to town," said he,"he can stay at my house. If he isn't respectable, we don't want him here at all."
No religious conference could meet in Washington that the Toombs house was not full of guests. Many Northern people visited the place to hear the statesman talk. Newspaper correspondents sought him out to listen to his fine conversation. These people were always sure of the most courteous treatment, and were prepared for the most candid expression. General Toombs was not solely araconteur. He did not draw upon his memory for his wit. The cream of his conversation was his bold and original comment. His wit flashed all along the line. His speech at times was droll and full of quaint provincialisms. He treated subjects spontaneously, in a style all his own. Strangers, who sat near him in a railroad car, have been enchanted by his sage and spirited conversation, as his leonine features lighted up, and his irresistible smile and kindly eye forced good-humor, even where his sentiments might have challenged dissent. He was the finest talker of his day. A close friend, who used to visit him frequently at his home, declares that Toombs' powers did not wait upon the occasion. He did not require an emergency to bring him out. All his faculties were alert, and in a morning's chat he would pour out the riches of memory, humor, eloquence, and logic until the listener would beenthralled by his brilliancy and power. He delighted to talk with intellectual men and women. He was impatient with triflers or dolts. He criticised unsparingly, and arraigned men and measures summarily, but he was a seeker after truth, and even when severe, was free from malice or envy.
General Toombs was a man of tender sympathies. Distress of his friends moved him to prompt relief. In 1855 a friend and kinsman, Mr. Pope, died in Alabama. He had been a railroad contractor and his affairs were much involved. General Toombs promptly went to his place, bought in his property for the family, and left the place for the wife and children, just as it stood. From Mobile he writes a grief-stricken letter to his wife, December 28, 1855:
I feel that I must pour out my sorrows to someone, and whom else can I look to but to one who, ever faithful and true, has had my whole heart from my youth till now? This has been one of the dark and sad days of my life. The remains of my lost friend Mr. Pope came down on the cars this morning. I met them alone at the depot, except Gus. Baldwin and the hired hands. This evening I accompanied the remains to the boat. Oh, it was so sad to see one whom so many people professed to love, in a strange place, conveyed by hirelings and deposited like merchandise among the freight of a steamboat on the way to his long home. I can scarcely write now, at the thought, through the blindness of my own tears. As I saw him placed in the appointed spot among the strangers and bustle of a departing boat, careless of who or what he was,I stole away to the most retired part of the boat, to conceal the weakness of friendship and relieve my overburdened heart with a flood of tears. I felt it would be a profanation of friendship even to be seen to feel in such a crowd. But for my overwhelming duty to the living I would have taken the boat and gone on with his remains. This is the end of the just in this world. He was a good and an upright man; never gave offense to a human being. His family are ruined, but his only fault was want of judgment, and too great confidence in his kind. He could not make money, and it really seemed that his every effort to do so plunged him deeper into debt. His great fault was a concealment of his own difficulties and trials. I would have done anything to have relieved them upon a full disclosure. He was idolized at home, and I have wept at the sorrows of the poor people in his employment, upon the very mention of his death. I know I cannot control my grief and am sensitive of my own weakness. I could not find relief without pouring out my sorrows to you. There let them rest.Yours,Toombs.
I feel that I must pour out my sorrows to someone, and whom else can I look to but to one who, ever faithful and true, has had my whole heart from my youth till now? This has been one of the dark and sad days of my life. The remains of my lost friend Mr. Pope came down on the cars this morning. I met them alone at the depot, except Gus. Baldwin and the hired hands. This evening I accompanied the remains to the boat. Oh, it was so sad to see one whom so many people professed to love, in a strange place, conveyed by hirelings and deposited like merchandise among the freight of a steamboat on the way to his long home. I can scarcely write now, at the thought, through the blindness of my own tears. As I saw him placed in the appointed spot among the strangers and bustle of a departing boat, careless of who or what he was,I stole away to the most retired part of the boat, to conceal the weakness of friendship and relieve my overburdened heart with a flood of tears. I felt it would be a profanation of friendship even to be seen to feel in such a crowd. But for my overwhelming duty to the living I would have taken the boat and gone on with his remains. This is the end of the just in this world. He was a good and an upright man; never gave offense to a human being. His family are ruined, but his only fault was want of judgment, and too great confidence in his kind. He could not make money, and it really seemed that his every effort to do so plunged him deeper into debt. His great fault was a concealment of his own difficulties and trials. I would have done anything to have relieved them upon a full disclosure. He was idolized at home, and I have wept at the sorrows of the poor people in his employment, upon the very mention of his death. I know I cannot control my grief and am sensitive of my own weakness. I could not find relief without pouring out my sorrows to you. There let them rest.
Yours,Toombs.
General Toombs resided in a three-story frame house in Washington, built after the manner of the olden time, with the spacious piazza, heavy columns, the wide door, and the large rooms. He lived in ease and comfort. He was an early riser, and after breakfast devoted himself to business or correspondence. At midday he was accessible to visitors, and rarely dined alone. In the afternoon he walked or drove. At night he sat in his arm-chair at his fireside, and in his lips invariably carried an unlit cigar. Smoking did not agreewith him. While in Europe he delighted to test the tobacco of the different countries, but the practice always gave him pain above the eyes. His last attempt was in the army of Virginia. Convinced that smoking injured him, he never resumed it. Fond of his dry smoke, he had a peculiar cigar made to order, very closely wrapped, with fine tobacco.
General Toombs made frequent trips away from home, even during the latter part of his life. The State retained his services in important cases. One of his last public acts was the prosecution of certain railway companies for back taxes. He recovered thousands of dollars to the State. He was summoned to Atlanta in 1880 to prosecute a defaulting State treasurer. He appeared very feeble, but his speech was a model of clearness and logic. During the latter part of his life there was a return of his early fault of quick, nervous, compressed speech. He grasped only the great hillocks of thought and left the intervening ground to be filled by the listener. His terse, rapid style was difficult to follow. As a presiding judge said, "His leaps are like a kangaroo's, and his speech gave me the headache." But his argument in the Jack Jones case was a model of eloquence and convincing law. A large number of friends attended the court, convinced that General Toombs was nearing the end of his great career, and were astounded at the manner in which he delivered his argument. As he concluded his address he turned in his place and caught the eye of Rev. Father J. M. O'Brien, an old friend of his. "Why, Father O'Brien," he said, wringing his hand, "I am glad to see you taking an interest in this case. These people are trying to usurp your functions. They want to grant the defendant absolution." "But, General," replied the quick-witted priest, "even I could not grant absolution until he had made restitution." "That's the doctrine," said the delighted lawyer, pleased to find that the point of his speech had taken so well. His face was all aglow with thegaudia certaminisof the forum. This was his last appearance in court, and he won his case.
His mother Georgia claimed his allegiance always, and he gave her his last and best powers. He worked for the commonwealth, and gave the people more than he ever received in return.
In Augusta, in 1871, when he appeared before the Georgia Railroad Commission and arraigned the lease of the State road as illegal and unhallowed, he declared in a burst of indignation; "I would rather be buried at the public expense than to leave a dirty shilling." It was the acme of his desire to live and die like a gentleman.
He had always been a safe financier. Scorning wealth, he had early found himself wealthy. It is estimated that he made more than a million dollars by his law practice after the war. He spent his money freely, careful always to avoid debt. Further than this, he kept no account of his means. Like Astor, he invested much of his holdings in land, and owned a large number of fine plantations in middle Georgia. When he died his estate probably reached two hundred thousand dollars.
No just biography of Robert Toombs can be written that does not take into notice the blemishes as well as the brightness of his character. He was a man on a grand scale. His virtues were heroic, his faults were conspicuous. No man despised hypocrisy more than he did, and no one would have asked any sooner to be painted as he was, without concealment. During the latter part of his life, many people knew him principally by his faults. Few knew what the wayward Prince Hal of the evening had been to King Henry in the morning hour. Like Webster and Clay, he was made up of human frailty. As his intimate friend, Samuel Barnett, said of him: "In spite of splendid physique, a man of blood and passion, he was not only a model of domestic virtue, but he avoided the lewd talk to which many prominent men are addicted. A fine sportsman and rider, a splendid shot, he was nothing of the racer or gamester. After all, he was more of a model than a warning." Among his faults, the one which exaggerated all the others, was his use of ardentliquors. This habit grew upon him, especially after the failure of the war. A proud, imperious nature, accustomed to great labors and great responsibilities, was left without its main resource and supplied with the stimulus of wine. No man needed that stimulus less than he did. His was a manhood vibrant in age with the warm blood of youth, and always at its best when his spirits and intellect alone were at play. He was easily affected by the smallest indulgence. When he measured himself with others, glass for glass, the result was distressing, disastrous. The immediate effect of excess was short. The next morning his splendid vitality asserted itself, and he was bright and clear as ever. The habit, however, grew upon him. The want of a physical check was bad. This was the worst of all his faults, and was exaggerated by special circumstances. It was less indulged in at home and greatly circulated abroad. Frequently the press reporters would surround him and expose in the papers a mere caricature of him. His talk, when under the influence of wine, was racy, extravagant, and fine, and his sayings too often found their way into print. In this way great injustice was done to the life and character of Robert Toombs, and Northern men who read these quaint sayings and redolent vaporings formed a distorted idea of the man.
To a Northern correspondent who approachedhim during one of these periods, General Toombs said: "Yes, a gentleman whose intelligence revolts at usurpations must abstain from discussing the principles and policies of your Federal government, or receive the kicks of crossroad sputterers and press reporters; must either lie or be silent. They know only how to brawl and scrawl 'hot-head' and 'impolitic maniac.' Why, my free negroes know more than all your bosses. Now, damn it, put that in your paper."
Robert Toombs was built to live ninety years, and to have been, at Gladstone's age, a Gladstone in power. He took little pains to explain his real nature. He seemed to take pains to conceal or mislead. He appeared at times to hide his better and expose his worse side. If he had been Byron, he would have put forward his deformed foot. He was utterly indifferent to posthumous fame. Time and again he was asked to have his letters and speeches compiled for print, but he would never hear of it. He waived these suggestions away with the sententious remark, "that his life was written on the pages of his country's history." With all his faults, his were strong principles and generous impulses. "We know something of what he yielded, but we know nothing of what he resisted." Include his strength and his weakness and measure him by other men, and we have a man of giant mold.
One who was very near to Toombs in his last days said of him when he was dead: "It was a thing of sorrow to see this majestic old man pausing to measure his poor strength with a confirmed habit, rising, struggling, falling, and praying as he drifted on."
General Toombs used to say that Webster was the greatest man he ever knew, that Clay managed men better, and Calhoun was the finest logician of the century. "The two most eloquent men I ever heard were Northern men," said he; "Choate and Prentiss." "Pierce," he used to say, "was the most complete gentleman I ever saw in the White House. He was clever and correct. Zachary Taylor was the most ignorant. It was amazing how little he knew. Van Buren was shrewd rather than sagacious. Tyler was a beautiful speaker, but Webster declared that a man who made a pretty speech was fit for nothing else."
Toombs met Abraham Lincoln while he was in Congress. He related that Mr. Lincoln once objected to sitting down at table because he was the thirteenth man. Toombs told him that it was better to die than to be a victim to superstition. At the Hampton Roads Conference, President Lincoln expressed to Judge Campbell his confidence in the honesty and ability of Robert Toombs. He was a great reader. General Toombs often said that if the whole English literaturewere lost, and the Bible and Shakespeare remained, letters would not be much the poorer. Shakespeare was his standard. He was fond of Swedenborg, and in his early youth relished Tom Paine.
General Toombs had a great affinity for young men, upon whom he exerted a great influence. He once said to a party of friends that gambling was the worst of evils because it impoverished the pocket while it corrupted the mind. "How about drinking, General?" he was asked. "Well, if a man is old and rich he may drink, for he will have the sympathy of his sober friends and the support of his drinking ones."
In 1880 General Toombs appeared in Atlanta, and addressed the Georgia Legislature in behalf of the candidacy of General A. R. Lawton for the United States Senate. His appearance, as he walked up the aisle, grim, venerable, and determined, awoke wild applause. He preserved his power of stirring the people whenever he spoke, but his speech was not as racy and clear as it had been. "This was one of the occasions," to quote from a distinguished critic of Toombs, "when the almost extinct volcano glowed again with its wonted fires—when the ivy-mantled keep of the crumbling castle resumed its pristine defiance with deep-toned culverin and ponderous mace; when, amid the colossal fragments of the tottering temple, men recognized the unsubdued spirit of Samson Agonistes."
His last public speech was in September, 1884, when the people of Washington carried him the news of Cleveland's election to the Presidency. He came to his porch and responded briefly, almost inaudibly, to the serenade, but he was full of the gratification which Southern people felt overthat event. He declared that he did not know that there was enough manhood in the country as to break loose from party ties and elect a President. The fact had revived his hope for the whole country. He had, before this, taken a gloomy view of the nation. He had, on one occasion, declared that the injection into the body politic of three million savages had made good government forever impossible. He had afterward said that the American Constitution rested solely upon the good faith of the people, and that would hardly bind together a great people of diverse interests. "Since 1850," he once said, "I have never believed this Union to be perpetual. The experience of the last war will deter any faction from soon making an effort at secession. Had it not been for this, there would have been a collision in 1876." But the election of Cleveland he regarded as a national, rather than a sectional victory—a non-partisan triumph in fact; and it was at this time, the first occasion since the war, that he expressed regret that he had not regained his citizenship and gone back into public life.
But his great power had begun to wane. His tottering gait and hesitating speech pointed unmistakably to speedy dissolution. The new-born hope for his country came just as his steps neared "the silent, solemn shore of that vast ocean he must sail so soon."
In March, 1883, General Toombs was summoned to Atlanta to attend the funeral of his lifelong friend Mr. Stephens. The latter had been an invalid for forty years, but was kept in active life by the sheer force of his indomitable will. Emerging from the war a prisoner, he had finally secured his release and had been elected United States Senator. Being prevented from taking his seat, he had returned home and finished his constitutional review of the "War Between the States." In 1873 he had been reëlected to Congress, where he had remained for ten years, resigning this position to accept the nomination for Governor of Georgia, which his party had offered him at a critical moment. It had been the desire of the "Great Commoner" to "die in harness," and there is no doubt that his close attention to the arduous duties of Governor hastened his death. Thousands of Georgians repaired to the State Capitol to honor his memory, but he who attracted most attention was the gray and grief-stricken companion who stood by the coffin of the man he had honored for fifty years. Mr. Stephens, in his diary, recalls the fact that his first meeting with Mr. Toombs was in court, when the latter generously offered to lend him money and look after his practice so that Stephens could take a trip for his health.
Like Damon and Pythias, these two men were bound by the strongest ties. They entered publiclife together in the General Assembly of Georgia. Together they rode the circuits as young attorneys, and each was rewarded about the same time with a seat in the national councils. Both were conspicuous in theante-bellumagitation, and both were prominent in the Civil War. As age advanced their relations were closer still.
General Toombs at the funeral of his friend pronounced a eulogium on the dead. His words were tremulous, and the trooping, tender memories of half a century crowded into the anguish of that moment. Toombs and Stephens, so long united in life, were not long parted in death.
In September, 1883, Mrs. Toombs died at her summer residence in Clarkesville, Ga. Their devoted friend, Dr. Steiner, was with them at the time, and rendered the double offices of family physician and sympathetic friend. Between these two men there had been a warm and long friendship. Dr. Steiner talked with General Toombs about his spiritual condition. A godly man himself, the doctor thought that he might remove any doubts that might linger in the mind of the stricken husband. He was gratified to hear that the way was clear. "Why, doctor," said General Toombs, "I am a prayerful man. I read the Bible and the Prayer Book every day." "Then why not be baptized, General?" "Baptize me, doctor," was his prompt reply. Dr. Steiner answered thatthere was no immediate need of that. The general was in good health. Dr. Steiner had baptized patients, he said, but it was in times of emergency. It was the desire of General Toombs to be baptized at the bedside of his wife. In a short time Robert Toombs was in communion with the Southern Methodist Church. It was his wife's beautiful example, "moving beside that soaring, stormy spirit, praying to God for blessings on it," which brought him to a confession of his faith, and left him in full fellowship with God's people.
General Toombs' health commenced visibly to fail after his wife's death, and the loss of Mr. Stephens made life lonely. His younger brother Gabriel, himself in the shadow of a great affliction, was with him constantly. They were devotedly attached to each other. Mr. Gabriel Toombs is, in personal appearance, very much like his brother. The long, iron-gray hair, brushed straight out from his head, reminds one of Robert Toombs. He is smaller in stature, and is a man of strong abilities, even temperament, and well-balanced mind. His brother had great regard for his business judgment and political sagacity, and often consulted him on public matters. These men lived near each other in Washington, their families grew up together, and General Toombs regarded his brother's children almost as he did his own.
On the 30th of September, 1885, Robert Toombs was confined to his house by illness. It was a general breaking down of his whole system. It was evident that he was nearing his end. During his last illness his mind would wander, and then his faculties would return with singular clearness. He suffered little pain. As Henry Grady said of him, it seemed that this kingly power and great vitality, which had subdued everything else, would finally conquer death. His ruling instinct was strong in dissolution. He still preserved to the last his faculty of grasping with ease public situations, and "framing terse epigrams, which he threw out like proverbs."
During one of his lucid intervals he asked for the news. He was told; "General, the Georgia Legislature has not yet adjourned."
"Lord, send for Cromwell," he answered, as he turned on his pillow.
Another time he was told that the Prohibitionists were holding an election in the town. "Prohibitionists," said he, "are men of small pints."
His mind at this period dwelt mainly on serious thoughts. The Bible was read to him daily. He was perfectly aware of his condition. He said to Dr. Steiner: "Looking over my broad field of life, I have not a resentment. I would not pang a heart."
He talked in his delirium of Mr. Stephens andDr. Steiner. The latter recalled him and said: "General, I am here by your side; Mr. Stephens, you know, has crossed over the river." Coming to himself, he said: "Yes, I know I am fast passing away. Life's fitful fever will soon be over. I would not blot out a single act of my life."
Dr. Steiner declared that he never before realized so fully the appropriateness of Mr. Stephens' tribute to Toombs; "His was the greatest mind I ever came in contact with. Its operations, even in its errors, remind me of a mighty waste of waters."
When the time came for Dr. Steiner to return to his home in Augusta, General Toombs bade him good-by."I am sorry," said he, "the hour is come. I hope we shall meet in a better place."
After Thursday, December 10, General Toombs did not regain consciousness. On Monday, December 15, 1885, at 6 o'clockp. m., he breathed his last. Just as the darkness of a winter evening stole over the land the great spirit of the statesman walked into eternal light.
He was buried on Thursday, December 18, at twelve o'clock. The funeral exercises were held in the little brick Methodist church where his wife and daughter had worshiped.
The funeral was simple, according to his wishes. A large number of public men in Georgia attended the services. Dr. Hillyer, a prominent Baptistdivine and classmate of General Toombs, assisted in the services. Rt. Rev. John W. Beckwith, Episcopal Bishop of Georgia, who had been his closest religious adviser after the death of the Methodist Bishop George F. Pierce, delivered a beautiful eulogium.
The remains were interred in the Washington cemetery, by the side of the body of his wife. A handsome marble shaft, bearing the simple and speaking inscription "Robert Toombs," marks the spot which is sacred to all Georgians.
THE END.