able, 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 over that 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