DOMESTIC LIFE OF TOOMBS.
There never was a public man in America whose home life was more
beautiful or more tender than that of Robert Toombs. As great as were
his public virtues, his lofty character, and abilities, his domestic
virtues were more striking still. He was a man who loved his family. In
1830 he was married to Julia A. Dubose, with whom he lived, a model and
devoted husband, for more than fifty years. She was a lady of rare
personal beauty, attractive manners, and common sense. She shared his
early struggles, and watched the lawyer grow into the statesman and the
leader with unflagging confidence and love. There was never a time that
he would not leave his practice or his public life to devote himself to
her. His heart yearned for her during his long separation in Washington,
when, during the debate upon the great Compromise measures of 1850, he
wrote that he would rather see her than "save the State." He considered
her in a thousand ways. He never disappointed her in coming home, but,
when traveling, always returned when it was possible, just at the time
he had promised. During the exciting scenes attending his first election
to the United States Senate, he writes that he feels too little interest
in the result perhaps for his success, and longs to be at home.
Political honors did not draw him away from his devotion to this good
woman. He never neglected her in the smallest way. His attentions were
as pointed and courtly in her last days as when they were bright-faced
boy and girl, lovers and cousins, in the twenties. During his labors in
the constitutional convention of 1877, he one day wore upon his lapel a
flower she had placed there, and stopping in his speech, paid fitting
tribute to the pure emblem of a woman's love. A man of great deeds and
great temptations, of great passions and of glaring faults, he never
swerved in loyalty to his wedded love, and no influence ever divided his
allegiance there. Writing to her on May 15, 1853, while he was United
States Senator, he says:
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 lovely and 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
pure and 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 a _raconteur_. 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 be enthralled 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.
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 agree with 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 the _gaudia
certaminis_ of 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.