WITHOUT A COUNTRY.
From Cuba General Toombs proceeded to Paris. It was early in July before
he reached his new stopping place. He found himself somewhat restricted
in funds, as he had not had time to turn his property into gold to make
his trip abroad. It is related that just after the departure of the
famous "specie train," through Washington in the wake of Mr. Davis'
party, a Confederate horseman dashed by the residence of General Toombs
and threw a bag of bullion over the fence. It was found to contain five
thousand dollars, but Toombs swore he would not even borrow this amount
from his government. He turned it over to the authorities for the use of
disabled Confederate soldiers, and hurriedly scraped up what funds he
could command in case he should be compelled to fly. Arriving in Paris,
General Toombs succeeded in selling one of his plantations, realizing
about five dollars an acre for it. He used to explain to the astounded
Frenchmen, during his residence abroad, that he ate an acre of dirt a
day.
General Toombs repaired to Enghien, where he took a course of sulphur
baths for the benefit of his throat. Constant exposure with the army and
in his flight had brought on his old enemy, the asthma. He had been a
healthy man, having long passed the limit of manhood before he tasted
medicine. Late in life, an attack of scarlet fever left his throat in a
delicate condition.
Mrs. Toombs joined him in Paris in July, 1865, and he passed eighteen
months quietly with her in Europe. It was in marked contrast to his tour
in 1855, when, as United States Senator, he had gone from place to
place, observed, honored, and courted. He was now an exile without a
country. He had seen his political dreams wiped out in blood and his
home in the hands of the enemy. From the dignity and power of a United
States Senator and a possible aspirant to the Presidency, he had been
branded as a conspirator, and forced, like Mirabeau, to seek shelter in
distant lands.
France was, at that time, in a state of unrest. Louis Napoleon was
watching with anxiety the eagles of Prussia hovering over the German
Confederation. Austria had already succumbed to Prussian power, and
Napoleon had been blocked in his scheme to secure, from this disorder,
his share of the Rhenish provinces. Toombs, who had fled from a restored
Union in America, now watched the march of consolidation in Europe, and
predicted its final success.
General Toombs was an object of interest in Europe. His position toward
the American government prevented his public recognition by the rulers,
but he used to relate with zest his interviews with Carlyle, the Empress
Eugenie, and other notables. He was a man to attract attention, and his
talk was fascinating and bright.
He was sometimes sought in a legal way by prominent financiers, who
asked his opinions upon fiscal matters in America. There is no doubt but
that, like Judah P. Benjamin, he could have built up a large practice
abroad, had he cared to do so; but permanent residence away from home
was entirely out of his mind.
In December, 1866, General and Mrs. Toombs received a cable message
telling them of the death of their only daughter, Mrs. Dudley M. DuBose,
in Washington, Ga. Mrs. Toombs at once returned home, leaving the
grief-stricken father alone in Paris. Anxious to go back with her, he
was advised that matters were still unsettled in the United States. The
impeachment of Andrew Johnson was in progress, and his conviction meant
restored martial law for the South. So the days were full of woe for the
lonely exile.
On December 25, 1866, he writes a beautiful and pathetic letter to his
wife. While the denizens of the gay city were deep in the celebration
of the joyous Christmas feast, the Southern wanderer, "with heart bowed
down," was passing through the shadows, and suffering in silence the
keenest pangs of affliction. Around him the votaries of fashion and
wealth were flushed with gayety. Paris was in the ecstasy of
Christmastide. But the depths of his soul were starless and chill, and
in the midst of all this mirth one heart was tuned to melancholy. He
writes to his wife:
The night you left I retired to the room and did not go to
sleep until after two o'clock. I felt so sad at parting
with you and could not help thinking what a long dreary
trip you had that night. I shall have a long journey of
five thousand miles to Havana, and do not know that I shall
meet a human being to whom I am known, but if I keep well I
shall not mind that, especially as I am homeward bound; for
my hearthstone is desolate, and clouds and darkness hover
over the little remnant that is left of us, and of all our
poor friends and countrymen; and, when you get home,
Washington will contain nearly all that is dear to me in
this world. I remained alone yesterday after I got up and
went to my solitary meal. I immediately came back to my
room, and have seen nothing of Christmas in Paris.
On January 1, 1867, he writes:
This is the first of the new year. How sad it opens upon
me! In a foreign land, with all that is dear to me on earth
beyond the ocean, either on the way to a distant home or at
its desolate fireside. Well, I shall not nurse such gloomy
ideas. Let us hope that the new year may be happier and
that we may grow better. God knows I cannot regret that
1866 is gone. I hope its calamities will not enter with us
into 1867. I had hoped to hear from New York of your safe
arrival on the other side of the ocean.
The loss of his daughter Sallie was a severe blow to General Toombs. But
two of his children lived to be grown. His eldest daughter Louise died
in 1855, shortly after her marriage to Mr. W. F. Alexander. General
Toombs had a son who died in early childhood of scarlet fever. This was
a great blow to him, for he always longed for a son to bear his name.
Away off in Paris his heart yearned for his four little grandchildren,
left motherless by this new affliction. He writes again from Paris:
I almost determined to take the steamer Saturday and run
the gauntlet to New York. I would have done so but for my
promise to you. I know everything looks worse and worse on
our side of the ocean, but when will it be any better? Is
this state of things to last forever? To me it is becoming
intolerable.... Kiss the dear little children for me. Bless
their hearts! How I long to see them and take them to my
arms. God bless you! Pray for me that I may be a better man
in the new year than in all the old ones before in my time.
Early in January General Toombs decided to sail for Cuba and thence to
New Orleans. If he found it unsafe to remain in the South he concluded
he could either go back to Cuba or extend his travels into Canada. He
had promised his wife he would remain abroad for the present. But he
writes:
The worst that can happen to me is a prison, and I don't
see much to choose between my present condition and any
decent fort. I feel so anxious about you and the children
that it makes me very wretched.
From Paris, January 16, 1867, he writes:
My preparations are all complete, and I leave to-morrow on
the _New World_ for Havana and New Orleans, _via_
Martinique. I am well; except my throat. I shall have a
long and lonesome voyage, with not much else to cheer me
but that I shall find you and our dear little ones at the
end of my journey. If I am permitted to find you all well,
I shall be compensated for its fatigues and dangers. God
grant that we may all meet once more in this world in
health!
Yours truly and affectionately, as ever,
TOOMBS.
General Toombs returned to America and after a short residence in Canada
went to Washington, where he had a long interview with his old
senatorial colleague, President Andrew Johnson. He went home from
Washington and was never again molested. He made no petition for relief
of political disabilities. He was never restored to citizenship. When
Honorable Samuel J. Randall proposed his General Amnesty Act in 1875,
Mr. Blaine and other Republicans desired to exclude from its provisions
the names of Davis and Toombs. The Democrats would not accept this
amendment, and the bill was never passed. Once, when Senator Oliver P.
Morton asked General Toombs why he did not petition Congress for pardon,
Toombs quietly answered, "Pardon for what? I have not pardoned you all
yet."