University of Virginia Library

XVI. Francis Walker Gilmer

Gilmer was born at Pen Park, near the steep banks of
the Rivanna, and in the long morning shadow of the
Southwest Mountains. It was a cultivated and refined
neighborhood, as we have shown, in which his childhood
and youth were spent. His father, who was of direct
Scotch ancestry, and had received his medical education at
Edinburgh, was noted, in the community, for his literary
culture, his taste for science,—more particularly for botany
and chemistry,—and for an uncommon knowledge of
the fine arts. William Wirt, who married his daughter,
Mildred, described him as being an accomplished gentleman,
gay in temper, witty in utterance, and on occasion,
capable of eloquence of great force and dignity. He enjoyed
Jefferson's friendship,—largely, perhaps, because
they were both so deeply interested in every branch of
scientific inquiry. Wirt imagined that he detected in
Francis as early as his fourth year the general cast of his
father's remarkable character. His early education
seems to have been discursive and desultory, but it was
sufficiently concentrated for him to acquire a great fund
of classical learning. His first lessons of importance were
received in the family of Thomas Mann Randolph; and
here, under the tutelage of Mrs. Randolph, who had been
educated in Paris, he obtained a very respectable knowledge
of the French language. Afterwards entering
Georgetown College near Washington, he passed thence
to the College of William and Mary, where he seems to
have impressed Bishop Madison as favorably as Cabell
had done, for his genial manners, his refined tastes, and
his ripe scholarship.

While a student there, he was thrown into the society
of his distinguished brother-in-law, William Wirt, for the

first time since his childhood, although the two had very
often, during the interval, exchanged letters. Wirt soon
formed an enthusiastic opinion of his capabilities and
his attainments. "In learning, he is a prodigy," said he.
"His learning is of a curious cast, for having no one to
direct his studies, he seems to have devoured indiscriminately
everything that came in his way. He had been removed
from school to school in different parts of the
country,—had met at all those places with different collections
of old books, of which he was always fond, and
seemed also to have had command of his father's medical
library, which he had read in the original Latin. It was
curious to hear a boy of seventeen years of age speaking
with fluency, and even with manly eloquence, and quoting
such names as Bochaave, Van Helmont, Van Sweiten, together
with Descartes, Gassendi, Newton, and Locke, and
discanting on the system of Linnaeus with the familiarity
of a veteran professor."

Bishop Madison quite naturally was solicitous to associate
such an unfledged prodigy of learning as this with
the College of William and Mary; and perhaps it was
only Gilmer's youth which stood in the way of the offer of
a more conspicuous station in the institution than the
ushership of the grammar school. But he seems to have
been already looking forward to a more active career than
teaching. We learn from a letter addressed to his
brother in October, 1810, that he was, at this time, planning
a sojourn of several years in Albemarle county,
where he expected to devote his time to a special course
of reading, for which he would find the necessary volumes
in the libraries of his friends. Now begins the somewhat
sauntering habit of life which he was to keep up more or
less to the end, and which seems to reveal a certain waywardness
of spirit in the pursuit of his purposes. He

speaks of his "natural indolence," and fear that it will
interrupt the proposed course of reading, although undertaken
with no higher object than mere pleasure. In the
spring of 1811, he plunges into a debate with himself
whether or not he should seriously begin the study of
law, but before doing so, he decided, with a characteristic
disposition to diverge from his main path, to read
Xenophon as giving a part of that moral science which,
from its affinity to jurisprudence, should, in the order of
things, he said, precede its study.

His friends, among whom were many men of distinction,
fortified him with words of encouragement: "I
consider you," wrote W. M. Burwell, a representative in
Congress from Virginia, "destined to be eminently useful."
"You set out," said William Wirt, "with a stock
of science and information not surpassed, I suspect, in the
example of Mr. Jefferson, and not equalled by any other,
I do not except Tazewell." And he tells his young
brother-in-law that he will not be satisfied with mediocrity
in his career. "Whatever line of life you propose to
pursue," wrote Jefferson, "you will enter on it with the
high profits which worth, talent, and science present.
There would be nothing which you might not promise
yourself were the state of education with us what we
could wish."[23]

Gilmer, in 1811, accepted an invitation from Wirt to
study law in his office in Richmond, the customary method,
at that time, of qualifying for the profession. Wirt was
not only the most brilliant member of the local bar, but

had also won distinction by his success as an author; indeed,
the British Spy had already given him a national
reputation, independently of his forensic triumphs. Personally,
he was the most delightful of companions; and
this geniality, with his influential connections by marriage
and by friendship, made him perhaps the most notable
figure in the highest social group of the city. The charming
benefits which Gilmer reaped from his familar association
with this accomplished man was only one part of
his social harvest: he became intimate with the families
of the Wickhams, Hays, McClurgs, Brockenbroughs,
Cabells, and Gambles, and others of equal standing;
formed a close friendship with Tazewell and Upshur;
shouldered a musket in the defence of the city against
British invasion; and barely got off with his life from the
burning of the Richmond theatre, which snuffed out so
many useful and distinguished lives.

In the spring of 1814, Gilmer determined to open a
law office in Winchester; but during the many months
which he passed at leisure before acting on this decision,
he seems to have employed his time in the several kinds
of literary composition to which he was impelled by the
didactic spirit of that day. It was during this interval
that he was first thrown with Abbe Corrèa; and as they
had many tastes in common, their friendship quickly
ripened. Corrèa was a Portuguese, who, for some years,
had acted as secretary of the Lisbon Academy, but sympathizing
with the French Revolution, had been forced to
fly his native country and to take refuge in London.
There he won such unreserved consideration that he was
appointed the British representative in Paris, and remained
there from 1802 to 1813. He was held in high
repute by scientists for his knowledge of botany; and he
seems to have visited the United States for the first time

to deliver lectures on this topic. At a subsequent period,
he served as the Portuguese minister at Washington; and
having become an intimate of Jefferson, he was frequently
a visitor at Monticello.

Gilmer was irresistibly attracted to him, not only by his
universal learning, but also by his knowledge of plants, a
subject which had always interested the young Virginian.
"Corrèa," said he, with generous enthusiasm, "knows all
the languages, all the sciences. He is the most extraordinary
man who ever lived." The two very often exchanged
roots and seeds, and on at least two occasions,
they made long and delightful excursions together in
search of rare species of flowers. "The Abbe wishes
you were always with him," Henry St. George Tucker
wrote from Winchester; and we find Corrèa constantly
sending him letters that breathe both affection and admiration.
"Go on ascending the ladder," he tells him
in February, 1816, "but remember that a genius like
yours must not make it the only business of his life, but
employ the ascendancy he got by that means to better
the mental situation of his nation." Through Corrèa,
Gilmer forwarded an essay to the Philosophical Society
of Philadelphia to be read at its ensuing meeting; and he
also became a correspondent of Du Pont de Nemours, to
whom he discoursed on the topic of roads built at the
national expense, or of a paper currency that rested on no
basis more solid than the public confidence.

He was established in Winchester by 1814. His mind,
however, was still so little set upon the profession of
law, to the exclusion of all other interests, that Corrèa
was able to seduce him into a botanical excursion to the
Carolinas. He was also secretly engaged in literary
composition. In 1816, a thin volume entitled Sketches
of the Orators written by him, but without acknowledgment

of its paternity on the title page, was published in
Baltimore, and the authorship soon leaking out, it led
to an interesting correspondence with several persons of
literary distinction. George Ticknor had already made
his acquaintance,—no doubt at Monticello,—and perceiving
his genial disposition and extraordinary literary
and scientific culture, had been drawn to him with affectionate
sympathy. In 1815, Gilmer planned a short
tour in Europe. "Shall you set yourself down," wrote
Ticknor, "amidst the literary society of Paris, and pass
there in solitary study, or intellectual intercourse, the
greater part of the time you can allow yourself to be
abroad ... or shall you visit with a classical eye and a
classical imagination, the curious remains of art and an
tiquity in Italy?" It 1817, Ticknor stopped over in
Geneva purposely to purchase for him a set of French
and Latin volumes in tally with a list which had been
sent to Dabney Carr Terrell, a young Virginian, then a
student in the university of that city; and during his stay
at Göttingen, he was warmly interested in buying for him
additional works relating to jurisprudence and political
economy. Ticknor's generous friendship for Gilmer
never grew cold. In a letter written the same year,
he revealed his affectionate solicitude for him by begging
him to take care of his health. "The world," he
said, "expects a great deal from your talents. I have
placed a portion of my happiness on the continuance of
your life."

Another correspondent was the versatile Hugh L.
Legarè, who, like himself, had an almost inordinate esteem
for literary culture and classical learning.

During his residence in Winchester, where he was able
to earn his expenses by his profession, Gilmer was daily
brought in the most familiar association with Henry St.

George Tucker, Judge Carr, and Judge Holmes, three
men of remarkable attainments themselves, who felt for
him an almost fraternal affection. But in spite of the
genial attractions of their society, and the goodwill and
respect of the community at large, he began to grow restive
by the end of the second year. Where should he
next settle, was the question that then arose to perplex
his mind. He consulted his friends. Judge Cabell
urged him to come back to Richmond. "Wirt," he
wrote, "has removed to Washington, and his business to
start with will fall to you." "Hard study, hard labor,
and patient waiting," he added, "are necessary to success.
I have no doubt of your success if you will be but
true to yourself." Gilmer's progressive weakness of the
lungs was one of the causes of his increasing restlessness.
"You can easily fulfil expectations," Cabell continued,
"if you will preserve your health by adapting your
habits to the nature of your accommodations."

He thought at first of establishing himself in Baltimore.
Robert Walsh, a prominent resident of that city,
whose advice he sought, threw cold water on this plan.
"The competition is crowded here," he said, "though
not powerful. Much depends on accident and family
influence. As for political advancement, the chances are
more favorable in Winchester." On the other hand,
Wirt, to whom he also turned, counseled him to decide
in favor of Baltimore. That wise friend urged him to
give up entirely the diversion of writing books until he
had accumulated a fortune by his practice; ten years at
least should pass before he should permit himself to
gratify his literary ambitions. "Be content," adds
Wirt, "with the beautiful and captivating specimen of
your taste in composition which you have already given."
Gilmer, unfortunately, perhaps, for his success as a lawyer,

was in possession of a small income from invested
funds and the hire of negroes,—a fact, which, by removing
the spur to constant exertion in his profession,
allowed him to become more enamored of the literary
pursuits in which his heart was really embarked.

The length of residence required by the Baltimore
rules before he would be granted a license, finally decided
him to enroll his name in the membership of the Richmond
bar. He had not been long settled in that city
when he was mentioned for the presidency of the College
of William and Mary, and under the influence of
his leanings as a scholar, he would very probably have
accepted it had it been offered, if Jefferson had not somewhat
indignantly protested against his suffering himself
to be drawn into what he described as a cul de sac.
"You must get into the Legislature," he added, "for
never did it more need of all its talents, nor more so
than at this next session." The success which Gilmer
won at the Richmond bar at this time proves that, had
he been able to concentrate his thoughts and energies on
the profession of law, he would have fulfilled all the sanguine
expectations of his friends. Wirt, whose amiable
temper, perhaps, led him to form an exaggerated estimate
of other people's abilities, had not yet ceased to
regret that his young brother-in-law had decided against
a residence in Baltimore. "Had you gone thither," he
said, "a few years might have placed your name next to
Pinckney's." Now, Pinckney was, at this time, the most
celebrated advocate in the American courts, and to predict
that the young Virginian would, by proper exertion,
rise to a position only second to his was to attribute to
him the possession of the most extraordinary capacity.
Whether his powers were really so great or not, Wirt
followed his legal career with affectionate interest; and

receiving a very favorable report of one of his earliest
arguments, after the removal to Richmond, expressed his
gratification at the reputation which Gilmer was rapidly
winning. "I hear you have broken a lance with the Attorney-General.
Did you unhorse him? They tell me
there was no pomp, no ostentation, no bombast, no
pedantry about you, no verbiage for verbiage's sake,
but that your words were full of thought, your manner,
manly and moderate, yet energetic and cogent."

During one year, Gilmer served as the official reporter
of the Court of Appeals, and his name was even suggested
for the Attorney-Generalship of the State; but in
spite of his apparent attention to the obligations of his
jealous profession at this time, he seems to have still
had little proclivity for it. His most earnest meditations
were, as formerly, constantly directed towards literature
and science. "I had not the least suspicion of
your talent for poetry," wrote Corrèa, who had just received
a copy of verses from his pen. Later, he is found
rebutting Jeremy Bentham, and the self-complacent Edinburgh
reviewers, in a treatise on usury, which was greeted
with warm encomiums by both Jefferson and Wirt. A
more imaginative production was an essay, in which he
represented himself as lost at night in Westminster Abbey,
and listening unseen to a conference between the marble
figures, which had turned to flesh and blood and resumed
their powers of motion and speech. In a second
essay of a scientific cast, he offered an ingenious explanation
of the phenomenon of the lunar rainbow.

He never lost his keen taste for the study of botany.
Corrèa, in December, 1818, urged him to join him in an
excursion to the Dismal Swamp in search of wild plants
and flowers; and also, the following summer, to accompany
him to the neighborhood of Charleston, for the

same purpose. These invitations apparently were not
accepted simply because Wirt protested. "Your future
success," he said, "must depend on disproving the whimsicality
and instability which the mind is apt enough, without
any overt act, to attach to genius." Gilmer seems
to have nursed a vague plan of establishing some sort of
botanical school in the Alleghanies. "What in the
deuce," wrote Corrèa, "put you in the mood of a rural
establishment in the mountains, with herb hunting, and
lectures, and do nothing?" A letter from Thomas M.
Randolph, written to him in 1818, mentions their former
wanderings in the vicinity of Richmond in search of
flowers; and a jocular note of Littleton W. Tazewell,
some years later, quizzes him about a box full of rare
blossoms which he had just received from Charleston,
with directions to send it on to his address.

It was, during this year, that he became a candidate
for the Secretaryship of Florida; but his motive apparently
was not to secure a semi-tropical field for the gratification
of his botanical curiosity, but to settle himself in
a region that would prove more favorable to his precarious
health. Wirt, to whom he applied for a backing,
was discouraging in his reply. He again, with renewed
impatience, enjoined upon him "to bid adieu to the
sciences and literature for a season, and let the world
see that your soul is in your profession. Avoid the reputation
of fickleness. Your next move must be your
last." Unfortunately, perhaps, for himself, Gilmer
failed to obtain the appointment, and the next few years
were passed in Richmond, broken only by the performance
of his mission to England, which will be subsequently
described. His pursuits continued to be of a desultory
cast. We find him in correspondence with Philip
Norborne Nicholas, who retailed, for his amusement,

the social gossip of Washington and the floating public
news of the hour; with William Pope, of Powhatan
county, the local humorist, who wrote that John Randolph
had recently spoken of him as the "best informed
man of his age in Virginia"; with Abel P. Upshur, Secretary
of State in Tyler's Administration; with Benjamin
Watkins Leigh, who consulted him confidentially about
the agitation of his name as a candidate for the Senate;
and with Captain Thomas Miller, a cultivated Englishman,
who asserted that he had received more "information
and pleasure" from Gilmer's conversation than
"from all the people he had seen in all his travels."

These kind words, coming from men of such public distinction
or private worth, must have been deeply soothing
to Gilmer's disquieted spirit, now that his fatal disease
was making such rapid and destructive progress. So
extreme was his debility, that, towards the close of 1825,
he made up his mind to return to his native county of
Albemarle, in reality to die. Thomas W. Leigh, a man
like himself of extraordinary promise, and like himself
destined to pass away before his prime, wrote to him,
after his departure, that "absence and separation would
never weaken the sentiment of gratitude, and affection,
and admiration with which I shall continue your friend";
and Dr. John Brockenbrough regretted that "one of the
greatest pleasures we had is gone," now that he is no
longer a citizen of Richmond. "No more friendly chitchat
soirées, and no substitute for them," he adds in words
that show his sincerity.

Before Gilmer went back to the familiar scenes of his
youth and early manhood, he sought the benefit of a
change in a visit to Norfolk. Chapman Johnson encouraged
him, after his return, by saying that, as a result
of the trip, he was "less hoarse and coughed less." "I

am perfectly persuaded," he added, probably with
feigned hopefulness, "you want nothing but a tranquil
mind, and mild climate to restore you." Gilmer had
spoken of visiting Philadelphia to consult Dr. Physic.
Johnson urged him instead to seek the affectionate nursing
of his friends in Albemarle. "Make up your mind,"
he said, "to get well or to go to Heaven without another
murmur or complaining word, and you will find the prescription
worth a thousand times more than all the doctors
can do or say for you." Gilmer wisely followed this
advice, for his case was beyond the skill of the most
competent physician; only a few months later, the religious
state of his mind was revealed in his gift of plate
for the altar of the Episcopal church in Charlottesville.
On February 15 (1826), General Cocke reported his
condition as so low, in the opinion of Dr. Dunglison, that
he could not survive a fortnight. His last thoughts
seemed to have travelled to the kindest and most affectionate
of all his friends, the genial, the generous, the
true-hearted William Wirt. "Farewell to you," the
dying man wrote, with his brother Peachy's assistance,
"and to all a family I have esteemed so well. I have
scarcely any hope of recovering, and was but a day or
two ago leaving you my last souvenir. I have not written
to you because I love and admire you, and am too low
to use my own hand with convenience." Wirt's reply
was full of an agonized tenderness. "I have learned,"
he wrote, "that your disease has taken a turn alarming
to your friends. But this note surpasses all my fears.
... You have the love and present prayers of every
member of my family. God Almighty bless you. If
we have to part, I trust it will not be long ere we shall
meet again to part no more."

The last scenes in Gilmer's life remind us in many

ways of the closing hours in the life of Keats. Both
died young, both unmarried, and both of the same
disease; and although the verses of the poet assured him,
as he knew, an immortal chaplet of fame, there was, in
his fading consciousness, that pang of thwarted hopes and
unfulfilled desires which also wracked the heart of the
young Virginian, sinking under the same deadly malady.
As Keats's haunting sense of his own futility was
summed up in the mournful epitaph which he wrote for
himself, "Here lies one whose name was writ in water,"
so the pathetic words engraved upon the tomb of the accomplished,
aspiring, and high-minded Francis Walker
Gilmer express all the sadness of a spirit, which only
found surcease from the disappointments of hope and
ambition when the frail body which had imprisoned it
had been consigned to its native sod: