When the French revolution commenced, the benevolence of his feelings led him to believe, as almost every American then did, that it would meliorate the condition of a great nation, whose inhabitants constituted a large portion of the population of the European world;—a nation, which, by the rigourous policy of its government, under a long succession of ambitious and arbitrary monarchs, anterior to the one then on the tottering throne of that ill-fated country, had become extremely corrupt among the higher orders of the people; and in which, the inferior classes were subjected to great oppression. The American people having, on their separation from the mother-country, instituted for themselves, as an independent nation, a constitution wholly republican; they were disposed to attribute the vices of the French government, before the revolution, to the circumstance of its being a monarchy, and the sufferings of the people of France, as necessarily resulting from the monarchial system of rule over them. When, therefore, a republican form of government was erected in France on the ruins of the throne; the excesses, and even the atrocities of the people, which attended the demolition of the ancient government of that country, and the establishment of political institutions entirely new to its inhabitants, found palliatives in the dispositions of most good men among us: they were ascribed to the strong conflicting passions naturally produced between the great body of the people, on the one part, and their rulers on the other; excited by the long sufferings of the former, and an unwillingness to part with power, in the latter. Great enormities were considered as the inevitable consequences of these opposite interests, when brought into action amidst a population of many millions of men, whose national characteristic is that of levity of temper and vehement passions; and a conflict, wherein all the malign dispositions of the most depraved characters, actuated by motives the most flagitious, intermingled themselves with the designs of those who meant well. Such men, freed from all the restraints of government and law, and utterly disregarding all the obligations of either religious or moral duties, had then an opportunity of giving a full vent to their views, whether of ambition, avarice or personal resentments; and they did not fail to embrace it. While, on the one hand, demagogues fanned the popular flame by the vilest artifices; put on the semblance of patriotism, and by practising the most detestable hypocrisy, professed themselves to be the friends of the people, whom they were deluding into premeditated ruin. Even virtuous Frenchmen, and many of them possessing no inconsiderable share of discernment, soon fell victims to the machiavelian policy of these pretended patriots. These, in their turn, were sacrificed under the denunciations of their compeers, or other aspiring villains; and thus, others still in succession: until, finally, a fortunate military usurper, restored the monarchy in his own person, with absolute sway; and by substituting an horrible military despotism, in the place of a most sanguinary anarchy, confounded all ranks of his subjects in one vast mass of miserable slaves; who have been since employed in destroying the peace, freedom and happiness of their fellow-men, in other countries. Such have been, hitherto, the fruits of the French revolution; from which, at its commencement, myriads of good men fondly anticipated an issue precisely the reverse.[reverse.][[277]]
Notwithstanding the criminal excesses committed by many of the French revolutionists, before the institution of their short lived and turbulent republic, it was hoped by most true Americans, attached by fidelity as well as principle to that system of government, which was then the legitimate one in their own country, that its ultimate establishment in France would produce permanent benefits, to that country at least, which would infinitely overbalance what were considered, by zealous republicans, as temporary and partial evils, such as seemed to be unavoidable, in bringing about a radical change in the fundamental institutions of a great and powerful empire. Many Americans were not, indeed, so sanguine in their expectations: but such were, nevertheless, the prevailing sentiments of the citizens of the United States,—even among the best-informed men.
The deliberative and cautionary proceedings (as they purported to be) of the more prominent revolutionary characters in France, in their minor popular assemblies, prior to the establishment of their national constitutional form of government, were judged of, in the United States, with respect to their objects and utility, as similar assemblies, under the denominations of councils of safety, committees of safety, &c. were considered by their own citizens, at the commencement of the American revolution: they were deemed to be necessary agents of the people in each country, respectively, during the interregnum which succeeded the abandonment of their ancient governments.
The Jacobin Club of Paris was one of these political engines of the French revolution, for some time after its commencement; and, perhaps, that assembly contained many worthy members, originally, although it afterwards became notoriously infamous, by the monstrous enormity of the crimes it countenanced and produced.
Chief Justice Marshall has observed (in his Life of Washington,) that “soon after the arrival of Mr. Genet,[[278]] a Democratic Society was formed in Philadelphia, which seems to have taken for its model the Jacobin Club of Paris:”—“Its organization,” continues the historian, “appears to have been completed on the 30th of May, 1793.”
It will nevertheless be recollected, that, about that period, the shock given to the humane feelings of the American people, by the murder of Louis XVI. their benefactor during the war in this country, and by the death and sufferings of his queen and family, had mostly subsided. The great American public still continued warmly and sincerely attached to what was then viewed as the cause of the French people: and therefore, whatever may have been the real design of setting up a Democratic Society in Philadelphia, at that point of time—a design only known to its founders,—it is certain, that many highly estimable and meritorious citizens, and firm friends of the existing government, were elected members of that society, without any previous intimation being given to them of such an intention: some of those persons never attended any of the meetings of the society; and others soon discontinued their attendance. If it were actually formed on the model of the Jacobin Club of Paris, by some of those with whom the scheme originated, it cannot be rationally presumed that men of great purity of reputation, in public as well as private life, would either seek admission into such an assembly, knowing it had any criminal views; nor would they, if chosen members of it without their knowledge and consent, participate in its proceedings, should these be found to be unconstitutional, illegal, or dishonourable. Yet it is a matter of notoriety, that persons of such characters were in some instances enrolled among the members of the Democratic Society in Philadelphia, at its commencement and soon after its organization, in the spring of 1793.
It may be readily supposed, that such of its members as meant well, would be desirous of placing at the head of that body, a man of unimpeachable patriotism and integrity; and it is equally reasonable to conclude, that, had there been a majority of its members, whose secret designs were inimical to the true interest of the country or the well-being of the government,—even these would wish to disguise their intentions, under the nominal auspices of a character universally respected and esteemed. Such a man was Dr. Rittenhouse; and therefore was he selected by the Philadelphia Democratic Society, as their President. At the time of his election to that station, he held the highly important office of Director of the Mint, under a commission from President Washington; for whose public and private character he always entertained the most exalted respect, besides the personal regard, which the writer of these Memoirs knows to have subsisted between them. It is not presumable, taking all considerations into view, that Dr. Rittenhouse suffered any serious diminution in the esteem of that virtuous and discerning statesman, by the circumstance of the Doctor being placed at the head of the Democratic Society: for he not only continued to hold the Directorship of the Mint, but, when he offered his resignation of that high trust, two years afterwards, the President’s reluctance to accept it yielded only to the Doctor’s urgent solicitation to decline a further continuance in the office.
Whatever, therefore, may have been the real views and intentions of some of the members of the Democratic Society which was formed in Philadelphia, in 1793,—even if those of a majority of their number were highly unjustifiable,—no imputation, unfavourable to Dr. Rittenhouse’s character, either as a good citizen or an upright man, could in the smallest degree be attached to him, by reason of his having been chosen a President of that body, at the time of its organization.[[279]]
That Dr. Rittenhouse was a zealous advocate for the liberties of mankind, is unquestionable: but, much as he abhorred slavery and oppression of every kind, did he deprecate turbulence and licentiousness in the people, and wars of ambition, avarice or injustice, undertaken by their rulers. He was decidedly friendly to those measures of civil government, which are best calculated to maintain order, tranquillity, and safety in the state, on just and honourable principles. It can scarcely be doubted by any one, intimately acquainted with his character, that he must have concurred in sentiments similar to those attributed by the biographer of Washington to that great man, or this subject,—in the following observation: “Between a balanced republic and a democracy the difference is like that between order and chaos. Real liberty, he thought, was to be secured only by preserving the authority of the laws, and maintaining the energy of government. Scarcely did society present two characters which, in his opinion, less resembled each other, than a patriot and a demagogue.”
Mr. Rittenhouse, it must be rationally supposed, was less acquainted with mankind, than General Washington was known to be: he had much fewer and more limited opportunities of studying human nature; and professions of pretended patriots were, therefore, more likely to impose on the unsuspecting honesty of his nature. He may even have been deceived, for a while, and ere the plausible fallacies of theorists in matters of civil polity, emanating from the philosophy of the French school, had yet been manifested to the world. A practical philosopher himself, he must have contemplated with pity, if not with indignation, the doctrines of the followers of Pyrrho: with whom it was a fundamental principle, that there is nothing that can be denominated true or false, right or wrong, honest or dishonest, just or unjust; or, in other words, that there is no standard beyond law or custom; and that uncertainty and doubt are attached to all things. Nevertheless, on these doctrines of the sceptical philosophers of antiquity are founded that monstrous and wicked tenet of most of the modern sceptics, that the end justifies the means!—a principle destructive of all the foundations of religion and morals. Well might the Abbé le Blanc exclaim, when noticing this mischievous sect of philosophers, seventy years ago,—“Is it not surprising, that men should endeavour to acquire the esteem of the public, by striving to break the most sacred band of all societies; in declaring their opinion to others, that there is neither virtue nor vice, truth nor doubt.”—“Our modern philosophers,”[[280]] says the learned Abbé in another place, “have been too confident.”