University of Virginia Library

XVI. Francis Walker Gilmer

ilmer 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 gentle man, 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."[57]

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 familiar 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 acknowledgement

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 antiquity 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 soirees, 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: