Part 83

Footnote 333:

The appropriate location of “The American Philosophical Society” is the city of “Philadelphia,” where their meetings must be held in conformity to their charter. Monticello, Mr. Jefferson’s residence in Virginia, is situated at the distance of about two hundred and seventy miles from the capital of Pennsylvania.

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Had Dr. Rittenhouse enjoyed leisure to write, there are sufficient reasons to induce a belief, that his compositions would have been highly estimable; not solely for the subject matter of them, but for their manner also. It is true, he laboured under the privations of a liberal education: his style might therefore, perhaps, have been deficient in some of the ornamental appendages of classical learning. Nevertheless, the native energy of his mind, the clearness of his perceptions, the accuracy with which he employed his reasoning faculties,—in fine, the very extraordinary intellectual powers he displayed, when they were directed to the attainment of any species of human knowledge;—these would, doubtless, have supplied him with those beauties of language, which are usually, as well as most readily, derived from academic instruction. And in addition to all these, the sublimity of the objects which he so ardently and frequently contemplated, could scarcely fail to have communicated to his literary productions a due portion of an elevated style, when treating on subjects of a corresponding character. Dr. Rush, in noticing the address delivered by Rittenhouse before the Philosophical Society in the year 1775, observes, that “the language of this Oration is simple, but” that “the sentiments contained in it are ingenious, original, and in some instances sublime:” in another place, the learned Eulogist styles it an “eloquent performance.” It is presumed, that these characteristic features of that little work are not unaptly applied; and it will be found, on perusal, to be also strongly tinctured, throughout, with a vein of exalted piety and universal benevolence.

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Footnote 334:

It is difficult for a sound and contemplative mind to form any conception of the character of a philosopher, according to the true meaning of the term, more especially of an astronomer, of a man observant of the works of nature and acquainted with her laws; and yet wanting in a due sense of religion. And hence Dr. Young has declared, that—

“An undevout Philosopher is mad.”

Instances, however, of this kind of mania, are known to have existed; produced by that presumptuous pride, which is too often engendered by a sophistication of true philosophy with the wild fantasies of some modern metaphysical sects, affecting extraordinary illumination. By thus engrafting a bad scion upon a good stock, pernicious fruit is propagated: or, to drop metaphorical allusions, by attempting to blend into one system, principles so discordant in their nature, as those of the experimental philosopher and the visionary theorist who deals in abstract speculations and reasonings â priori, the appropriate powers of the mind are weakened, while its moral faculty is at the same time, and by the same means, greatly deteriorated.

An extraordinary but deplorable instance of this kind was exhibited to the world by the justly celebrated astronomer Lalande, in his own conduct and character, towards the concluding part of a long life. These are so well portrayed in the very interesting Letters on France and England, published in The American Review of History and Politicks, that the writer of the present memoirs cannot forbear presenting to his reader the following extract from Letter III.

“Lalande, if not the most profound and original, was certainly the most learned astronomer of France, and the principal benefactor of the science to which he was so passionately devoted. He was remarkable for the most egregious vanity, and for the broadest eccentricities of character, and almost equally eminent for the most noble virtues of the heart. By a very singular perversion of intellect, he became a professed atheist, about the commencement of the revolution; pronounced, in the year 1793, in the Pantheon, a discourse against the existence of a God, with the red cap upon his head; and displayed, on this subject, the most absolute insanity, during the rest of his life. This monstrous infatuation betrayed him into the most whimsical acts of extravagance, and particularly into the publication of a Dictionary of Atheists, in which he enregistered not only many of “the illustrious dead,” but a great number of his cotemporaries, and among these, some of the principal dignitaries of the empire.

“This circumstance led to an occurrence in the Institute, which that body will not soon forget. At an extraordinary sitting of all the classes, convoked for the purpose, when Lalande was present, a letter from the Emperor was announced and read aloud, in which it was declared, that Mr. Lalande had fallen into a state of dotage, and was forbidden to publish, thereafter, any thing under his own name. The old astronomer rose very solemnly, bowed low, and replied, that he would certainly obey the orders of his majesty. His atheistical absurdities deserved, no doubt, to be repressed; but, besides the singularity of this form of interdiction, there was an unnecessary degree of severity in it, as the end might have been attained without so public a humiliation. Lalande was notoriously superannuated, and not therefore a fit object for this species of punishment. Some consideration, moreover, was due to his many private virtues, to his rank in the scientific world, and to the large additions which he had made to the stock of human knowledge. His atheistical opinions arose, not from any moral depravity, but from a positive alienation of mind on religious topics. He was not the less conspicuous for the most disinterested generosity; for warm feelings of humanity; for the gentleness of his manners; for the soundness of his opinions on questions of science, and for a certain magnanimity with regard to the merits of his rivals and detractors. The extravagance of his opinions and his manners during his dotage, rendered him an object of almost universal derision in Paris, and subjected him to the most cruel and indecent mockery. It became fashionable, even among those who had derived their knowledge from his lessons and experienced his bounty, to depreciate his merits both as an astronomer and as a man. Lalande had the misfortune of living to see a maxim verified in his own regard, which has been exemplified in every age and country, that some disciples may become superiour to their masters. But he was, nevertheless, at all times among the luminaries of science; and to him astronomy was indebted for more substantial and unremitted services, than to any one of his cotemporaries.”

This very Mr. Lalande, in the preface to the third edition of his inestimable work entitled Astronomie, published at Paris so late as the year 1792, shews, that astronomy furnishes most powerful proofs of the being of a God. Yet this same man, in one year after, when in his “dotage,” with a mind enfeebled by age, and corrupted by the delusions of the new philosophy of his countrymen, became an object of “derision,” and of “mockery,” even among Frenchmen; for his absurdities, and his endeavours to set himself up as a champion of atheism! Is it necessary to furnish the rational part of mankind with a more striking, and at the same time a more lamentable proof, of the deleterious effects produced by those illusions, which, under the assumed name of “Philosophy,” have been conjured up by some modern Theorists and Political Speculators? Certainly, it is not. The instance, here adduced, may stand as a monument of the folly and depravity of the Philosophy of the Gallican School.

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Dr. Rittenhouse, by the vigour of his mind, by the transcendent powers of his genius, had surmounted the disadvantages of a defective education, as some few other great men have done; but it may be fairly inferred from the nature of things, that, had not that privation existed in the case of our Philosopher, he would have shone with a still superior lustre, not merely as a man of science, but as a literary character.

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Footnote 335:

“If,” (says a late anonymous writer,) “from the advantages of sound learning to the state, we turn to its influence on the characters of individuals, we will find its effects to be no less striking. We will find, that although, without much learning, man may become useful and respectable, yet that he cannot, without it, become polished, enlightened and great; he cannot ascend to that grade in the scale of his Creator’s works, to which his powers are intended to exalt him. If to this rule, a Franklin, a Rittenhouse, and a Washington present exceptions, they are to regarded as mere exceptions, and therefore do not amount to an infraction of the rule. They were prodigies; which necessarily implies a departure from, and an ascendency over common principles.” See an Account of Dickinson College, Carlisle, in the Port Folio, for March, 1811; supposed to be written by Professor Cooper.

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The Writer of these Memoirs sincerely regrets, that he differs very widely, indeed, on this head, from a gentleman who has, himself, been distinguished in the literary world by his learning, as well as by his genius and science. “In speaking of Mr. Rittenhouse,” says his eloquent Eulogist, “it has been common to lament his want of what is called a liberal education.”—“Were education what it should be, in our public seminaries,” continues our ingenious Professor, “this would have been a misfortune; but conducted as it is at present, agreeably to the systems adopted in Europe in the fifteenth century, I am disposed to believe that his extensive knowledge, and splendid character, are to be ascribed chiefly to his having escaped the pernicious influence of monkish learning upon his mind, in early life. Had the usual forms of a public education in the United States been imposed upon him; instead of revolving through life in a planetary orbit, he would probably” says his Eulogist “have consumed the force of his genius by fluttering around the blaze of an evening taper: Rittenhouse the Philosopher, and one of the luminaries of the 18th century, might have spent his hours of study in composing syllogisms, or in measuring the feet of Greek and Latin poetry.” In another part of his Eulogium, (wherein he notices some fine and benevolent reflections of Dr. Rittenhouse, arising from a contemplation of particular works of nature,) Dr. Rush addresses an invocation to that distinguished class of learned men, the clergy, in terms corresponding with his sentiments just quoted:—“If such,” says he, “be the pious fruits of an attentive examination of the works of the Creator, cease, ye ministers of the gospel, to defeat the design of your benevolent labours, by interposing the common studies of the schools, between our globe and the minds of young people.”

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Footnote 336:

Three years before Dr. Rush expressed these opinions, so generally unfavourable to classical learning and an academic education, he seems to have thought these necessary qualifications for a physician at least. In his Lecture on the Character of DR. SYDENHAM, delivered in Dec. 1793, is this passage: “From the short records of his life, which have been published by the different editors of his works, it appears that his education in academical learning and medicine, was perfectly regular. He became a scholar at Oxford, and a doctor of medicine at the university of Cambridge. I mention these facts,” adds our learned Professor, “in order to refute an opinion which has been introduced by some lazy and illiterate practitioners of physic, that he was indebted wholly to intuition for all his knowledge of medicine. Men may become wise and distinguished by meditation or observation, in the science of morals and religion; but education and study are absolutely necessary to constitute a great physician.”

With all due deference to the abilities and judgment of the Professor, the Memorialist presumes, that if “education and study are absolutely necessary to constitute a great physician,” they are equally requisite in the formation of a great astronomer: because a knowledge of geometry and optics can no more be attained by intuition, than that of anatomy and the materia medica; yet these sciences are, respectively, indispensable in the formation of the two characters, to which they severally relate.

Still, adds Dr. Rush, “It is true Dr. Sydenham did not adopt, or follow, the errors of the schools in which he had been educated; but, by knowing them thoroughly, he was able, more easily, to examine and refute them.” Here, then, is an admission, that even an intimate knowledge of such errors is eminently useful, by enabling a man of a sound and cultivated mind to refute them: for, the refutation of existing errors, affords a most important aid to the advancement of true science.

Sydenham, it appears, received his collegiate education at both the English universities. It may not therefore be improper, on this occasion, to introduce a quotation from an invaluable elementary work; in order to shew, what was the opinion entertained by a learned and distinguished German, of the English Universities—on the models of which, the higher seminaries of learning in the United States are formed. “Of all the Universities of Europe,” says Baron Bielfeld, “those of Oxford and Cambridge in England appear at present to approach the nearest to perfection: The great men they produce, are a better proof than any other argument. We could wish,” adds this highly enlightened foreigner, “always to see an university a real city of learning, a place consecrated entirely to the muses and their disciples; that the Greek and Latin languages were there predominant; and that every thing were banished from thence, which could cause the least dissipation in those who devote themselves to letters.” “The man who confines himself to his closet,”—says our author, in another place,—“is but rarely visited by the sciences, the arts and the belles lettres: to acquire their intimate acquaintance, he must seek them in those places where Minerva, Pallas, Apollo, and the Muses, have fixed their residence. Emulation, that strong impulse in the career of all our pursuits, should constantly attend the man of letters from his early youth to the last period of his life; in the school, at college, at the university, in those employments to which his knowledge may lead him, or in those academies of science to which he may be admitted. Emulation is an animating faculty, that results from society: and few there are, to whom nature has given a genius sufficiently strong to attain an extensive erudition in solitude; who are provided with wings that can bear them, without guides, without models, without companions or supports, to the lofty regions of the empyrean.”

Footnote 336a:

The Elements of Universal Erudition, containing an analytical abridgment of the Sciences, Polite Arts, and Belles Lettres; by Baron Bielfeld. In three 8vo. volumes; translated from a Berlin edition, by W. Hooper, M. D. and printed in London, in the year 1770.