Part 111

It has been observed by a celebrated writer, that mathematicians in general read but little of each other’s works. This remark, if I mistake not, is very strongly illustrated in Mr. Rittenhouse. However it may have been in his earlier age, I am confident that during the last thirteen years of his life, when my intercourse with him was great, and indeed but little interrupted; I am confident, that at this matured and auspicious era of his life, our friend was not a laborious student. He looked into many books, and he often passed quickly from one kind of reading to another: from philosophy to poetry; from poetry perhaps to philosophy again. His reading may be said to have been desultory. I have little doubt that this rather irregular manner of reading was, in some measure, the result of his extreme delicacy of constitution, which rendered a more unvaried application to any one kind of reading, irksome and oppressive. Often have I seen him lay down his book or pen, to recline upon his sopha, the circumscribed flush upon his cheeks plainly indicating the physical state of his feelings. A short repose would enable him to return to his studies again.

Mr. Rittenhouse’s application to books, had, no doubt, been more regular and constant in the earlier part of his life; before I knew him well, or before I had accustomed myself to watch the progress of his mind. He was, certainly, profoundly, acquainted with the Principia and other writings of Newton, which he read partly in the original, and partly through the medium of translation. And although, within the period of my better acquaintance with him, his reading I have said, was not intense, he suffered no important discovery in philosophy to escape his notice. Although his own library was small, he had ample opportunities, through the medium of the valuable library belonging to the Philosophical Society, and other collections in Philadelphia, of observing the progress of his favourite studies in Europe. He took much interest in the discoveries of Mr. Herschel, whose papers he eagerly read as they arrived from Europe: and I well remember the time (in 1785) when he was engaged in reading Scheel’s work on Fire, which had recently appeared, in an English dress. He then assured me, that some of this great Swedish philosopher’s notions concerning the nature and the laws of heat, had long before suggested themselves to his mind.

The chemical discoveries of Crawford and Priestley solicited some of Mr. Rittenhouse’s attention, about the year 1785-1786, and for some time after. The brilliant discoveries of Priestley, in particular, were not unknown to him. Upon the arrival of this illustrious philosopher in Philadelphia, in 1794, Mr. Rittenhouse stood foremost among the members of the Philosophical Society in publicly welcoming the exiled philosopher to the country which he had chosen as the asylum of his declining years; and in expressing his high sense of his estimable character, and of the vast accessions which he had brought to science. I often met Dr. Priestley at the house of our friend. Their regard for each other was mutual. It is to be regretted that their immediate intercourse with each other could not be more frequent. Priestley had unfortunately chosen the wilderness, instead of the capital or its vicinity, as his place of residence: and Rittenhouse, alas! did not live two years after the arrival of Priestley in America.

On the death of Mr. Rittenhouse, Dr. Priestley wrote me a letter of condolence on the great loss which the publick had sustained; on the irreparable loss which I, in particular, had suffered. When the Doctor afterwards returned from Northumberland to Philadelphia, he discovered much solicitude to know from me Mr. Rittenhouse’s religious sentiments, and the manner and circumstances of his death; and he evinced no small satisfaction in receiving from me that relation which I have already given you, of the last hours, and of the last words, of one of the best of men.

Mr. Rittenhouse had not studied natural history as a science: but to some of the branches of this science he had paid particular attention; and upon some of them he was capable of conversing with the ablest, and the most experienced. In Botany, he was not acquainted with the scientific or classical names: but the habits, and in many instances, the properties of plants were known to him. I well recollect how great were his pleasure and satisfaction, in contemplating the Flora of the rich hills of Weeling, and other branches of the Ohio, when I accompanied him into those parts of our union, in the year 1785. In this wilderness, he first fostered my love and zeal for natural history. Upon his return from the woods, in the month of October, he brought with him, as ornaments to his garden, many of the transmontain plants of the state of Pennsylvania: and long before I knew that it grew wild in the vicinity of Philadelphia, upon the banks of his native Schuylkill, he had naturalized in his garden, the beautiful Silene virginica, which he designated with the name of “Weeling Star.”

It is a fact, that in the last months of his life he devoted a good deal of his time to an examination of the structure of the most important organs of plants. Acquainted with that doctrine which forms the basis of the sexual system, he was fond of examining plants during the period of their inflorescence: and I remember, with what apparent pleasure, he pointed out to me the tube in the styles of some of the plants which grew in his garden.

He had made many observations upon the buds of trees, some of which I think were new. I regret that the memorandums which he kept of these observations have not been found among his papers.

Not fifteen days before his death, he had finished the perusal of a German translation of Rousseau’s beautiful letters on Botany, which I had put into his hands.

Mr. Rittenhouse, like Newton and many other men of great talents, employed much of his time in the perusal of works on the subject of natural and revealed religion. This was, I think, more especially the case in the latter part of his life. Among other books which I could mention, I well recollect that he read the Thoughts of the celebrated French philosopher Pascall: and he acknowledged, that he read them with pleasure. But that pleasure, he observed to me, was diminished, when he learned, what was often the state of Pascall’s mind:—a state of melancholy and gloom: and sometimes even of mental derangement. At the time of his death, the American Philosopher was engaged in the perusal of Mosheim’s Ecclesiastical History: and he had just before finished the perusal of the Meditations of the Emperor Marcus Antoninus; that excellent work, replete with the sublimest morality, and with much of a sublime religion.

About three weeks before his death, I had put into his hands the first volume of Dr. Ferguson’s Elements of Moral and Political Science. I took the liberty of particularly directing his attention to the last chapter of the volume: the chapter on the future state. He read it with so much satisfaction, that he afterwards sent it to his elder daughter, with a request that she would peruse it.

The benevolent dispositions of our friend were well known to you. You have, doubtless, done justice to this portion of his character; yet permit me to mention a few detached facts, which have came under my own immediate notice, and the relation of which may serve to augment even your respect and veneration for Mr. Rittenhouse.

The year 1793 is memorable in the history of Philadelphia. During the prevalence of the yellow fever, in the summer of that year, Mr. Rittenhouse wrote to me a note requesting me to visit a number of poor people, in his vicinity, labouring under the malignant fever; and making it a condition of my attendance upon them, that I should charge him for my services.

In the month of March of the same year, I had a good deal of conversation with Mr. Rittenhouse, on the subject of penal laws. He did not think that the late judge Bradford, whose essay on this subject he greatly admired, and recommended to my perusal, was too lenient in his views of the subject. He observed, that although he had often served on juries, he thanked God, that he never had in any case where life and death were immediately involved; observing, that his conscience would ever reproach him, if he had, in any instance, given his verdict for death. “Of all murders (he added) legal murders are the most horrid.” He did not think that death ought to be the punishment for any crime.

The union of sensibility with benevolence is frequently observed. The sensibility of Rittenhouse was exquisitely nice; perhaps, I might say, it was somewhat morbid. In a conversation which I had with him on the subject of the analogies between animals and vegetables, when I had observed to him, that the further we push our inquiries into this interesting subject, the more reason we have for supposing, that those two series of living beings constitute, as many eminent naturalists have supposed, but one vast family, he said it appeared so to him, but he hoped it would never be discovered that vegetables are endowed with sensibility. “There is, he observed, already too much of this in the world.”

His religion was sublime and pure. It had no tincture of superstition or credulity. Accustomed, from an early period of his life, to contemplate the largest and the smallest objects of Creation; and with respect to the former to view their arrangement and harmony in the construction of a system of immeasurable extent; in these objects and in these places, he beheld one of the revelations of our Creator. He could not be insensible of the ills, infirmities, and miseries of human life, and even of the life of inferior animals. But still he discovered, as he often observed to me, the existence and even the dominion of much benevolence through the world. He was wont to consider our benevolent dispositions, and our virtuous affections, as among the strongest proofs of the existence of a Creator. These dispositions, these affections, and our intellectual powers, are the genuine emanations of a God.

BENJAMIN SMITH BARTON.

Philadelphia, December, 1813.

Letter from Lady Juliana Penn to the Rev. Peter Miller, Ephrata.

Septr. 29th. 1774.

Sir,

Your very respectable character would make me ashamed to address you with words merely of form. I hope therefore you will not suspect me of using any such, when I assure you I received the favour of your letter with very great pleasure. And permit me, sir, to join the thanks I owe to those worthy women, the holy sisters at Ephrata, with those I now present to you, for the good opinion you, and they, are pleased to have of me. I claim only that of respecting merit, where I find it; and of wishing an increase in the world, of that piety to the Almighty, and peace to our fellow-creatures, that I am convinced is in your hearts: and, therefore, do me the justice to believe, you have my wishes of prosperity here, and happiness hereafter.

I did not receive the precious stone, you were so goad to send me, till yesterday. I am most extremely obliged to you for it. It deserves to be particularly distinguished on its own, as well as the giver’s account. I shall keep it with a grateful remembrance of my obligations to you.

Mr. Penn, as well as myself, were much obliged to you for remarking to us, that the paper you wrote on, was the manufacture of Ephrata: It had, on that account, great merit to us; and he has desired our friend, Mr. Barton, to send him some specimens of the occupation of some of your society. He bids me say, that he rejoices to hear of your and their welfare.

It is I that should beg pardon for interrupting your quiet, and profitable moments, by an intercourse so little beneficial as mine; but trust your benevolence will indulge this satisfaction to one who wishes to assure you, sir, that she is, with sincere regard, your obliged and faithful well-wisher,

JULIANA PENN.

MR. PETER MILLER, President of the Cloister at Ephrata.

To the Memory of the Honourable Thomas Penn, Esq. who died March 21. 1775.

Peace, worthy shade! Peace to thy virtuous soul; Life’s contest past, thou now hast gain’d the goal, Destin’d for honest innate truth, like thine, Where moral goodness rises to divine. True to thy friendship, sacred to each trust, In every duty most exactly just: A princely wealth fill’d not thy heart with pride, Thou nobly cast the glitt’ring bait aside; Made it subservient to some useful aim, Some gen’rous purpose, or some proper claim: As bounteous streams in pleasing currents glide, It roll’d, refreshing, like some charming tide; Cheer’d the lone widow in her humble dome, And scatter’d comfort o’er her lonely home. Thy guardian angel snatch’d thee from below, E’er Pennsylvania was consign’d to woe: Thou now may’st view, without one kindred tear, What we deem harsh, oppressive and severe;— Life’s motley picture, at one view, may’st scan,— Unwind its tangled, complicated plan,— Where this great truth is clearly understood, That “partial evil’s universal good.” In broken parts, man the dark system spies, While all lies open to celestial eyes; The links, united, of our scatter’d chain, Shew why PENN suffer’d tedious years of pain,— Shew why one patient virtuous mind doth mourn, And why sweet Peace is from a people torn. For, individuals of earth’s humble vale Mount, in gradation, on a heav’nly scale: Yet Virtue, only, has a charm in death; Wealth droops his plumes, as man resigns his breath; Its social merits can’t ascend the skies, Terrestrial substance can’t to heav’n arise; Too gross to enter the abodes divine, In earthly darkness it can only shine.