nctions. 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.

CHAPTER XXX.

HIS GREAT FAULT.

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 oth