The reading of our Philosopher was extensive. It embraced every department of polite literature, as well as many branches of what is called, by way of distinction, useful knowledge. He appears to have been more particularly attached to history, voyages and travels, and to the poetick muse:[[345]] but the drama, ingenious productions of the imagination, and other works of taste and fancy, likewise engaged a portion of his attention.[[346]] Dr. Rush asserts, that he had early and deeply studied most of the different systems of theology.[theology.][[347]] On this head, no further information can be given by the writer of these Memoirs: yet he thinks he has good reason for believing,—and such as are independent of Dr. Rittenhouse’s known liberality, with respect to various modes of faith and worship, that he never gave a very decided preference to any one regular society of Christians, over others; he loved that sort of Christianity, which inculcates sound morals: his charity, in regard to theological opinions and other concerns of religion, was great; and he felt no disposition to observe any thing like a scrupulous adherence to such tenets or rites, as he deemed less essential to the well-being of mankind. It was, in fact, the liberal manner (and this alone) in which he sometimes expressed himself on subjects of this nature, influenced by sentiments of the purest benevolence, that induced some persons of more rigid principles, and perhaps less candour, to doubt the soundness of his faith in revealed religion: but the whole tenor of his life, and the religious sentiments he had publicly and repeatedly avowed, shew how ill-founded such suspicions were.[[348]] A mind so contemplative as his, so devoted to the pursuit of truth, so boundless in its views, and so ardently attached to virtue, would naturally lead him to an investigation of the principles of Christianity; and it is evident from some passages in his Oration, and also in his familiar letters to his friends, that he believed in the fundamental articles of the Christian faith,[[349]] however he may have doubted respecting some of the more abstract and less important tenets of the church.
As Dr. Rittenhouse never attached himself to the distinguishing dogmas of any one sect of Christians; so, on the authority of a letter addressed to the Memorialist by Mr. B. Rittenhouse, soon after his brother’s decease, it may be asserted, that our Philosopher “was never joined in communion with any particular religious society; though he esteemed good men of all sects.” In his youth, it is probable he was bred a Baptist; the sect to which his father (and, it is believed, his mother also,) belonged: at subsequent periods, he entertained favourable opinions of the church of England, and of the principles of the quakers (so called.) In some of the latter years of his life, he and his family pretty frequently attended divine service in a presbyterian congregation, of which a very respectable and worthy gentleman then was the pastor and until very lately continued to officiate as such.[[350]] That church is situated in the same street wherein Dr. Rittenhouse dwelt; and its then minister was one of many clergymen, belonging to different churches, whom he personally esteemed.
Some of his letters to his confidential friends testify, nevertheless, that he by no means embraced some of the doctrines of Calvinism: nor did he, probably, approve of others, in their more rigid interpretation.[[351]] In one of those letters, addressed to the Rev. Mr. Barton, (an Episcopalian, of the English church,) from Philadelphia, so early as September, 1755, he wrote thus: “I have been here several days, and am fatigued and somewhat indisposed. You know my spirits are never very high, and will therefore expect a melancholy letter from me at present. I should be glad of opportunities to receive letters from you, and to write to you oftener:—indeed, I am desirous of disclosing to you some of my most serious thoughts.” It can scarcely be doubted, from the complexion of this paragraph and the character of the person to whom our then young philosopher was writing, that these “most serious thoughts,” which he wished so much to disclose to his clerical friend, related to some points in divinity. After subjoining, in the same letter, some reflexions, of such a cast as shew that his spirits were depressed by fatigue and indisposition, as was usually the case with him, he proceeded thus: “I assure you, notwithstanding, I am no misanthrope; but think good society one of the greatest blessings of life. Whatever is said of original sin, the depravity of our nature, and our propensity to all evil; though men are said to be wolves to men; yet, think, I can see abundance of goodness in human nature, with which I am enamoured. I would sooner give up my interest in a future state, than be divested of humanity;—I mean, that good-will which I have to the species, although one half of them are said to be fools, and almost the other half knaves. Indeed I am firmly persuaded that we are not at the disposal of a Being who has the least tincture of ill-nature, or requires any in us. You will laugh at this grave philosophy, or my writing to you on a subject you have thought of a thousand times. But, can any thing that is serious, be ridiculous? Shall we suppose Gabriel smiling at Newton, for labouring to demonstrate whether the earth moves or not, because the former plainly sees it move?”
This extract (the latter part of which constitutes a note to Dr. Rush’s Eulogium,) expresses, in the concluding sentence, a beautiful and apt allusion, in reference to the subject. It likewise contains a finely-turned compliment to the superior knowledge he presumed Mr. Barton to possess, on theological subjects; without its seeming to have been intended, that it should comprehend himself also,—otherwise than as he might be considered, for a moment, to be personating that branch of science which he most assiduously cultivated. The compliment, so far as it appeared to apply to himself, was unquestionably due to him; but his modesty would have forbidden his using it, even to a brother-in-law, could he have imagined at the instant of penning it, that a portion of it might be referred to himself, personally.
The whole scope of the passage, just quoted, “shews,” however, as his Eulogist has observed, “how early and deeply the principles of universal benevolence were fixed in his mind.” And in his Oration, composed when he was in the full meridian of life, our Philosopher has plainly indicated, that the same philanthropic spirit, that species of benevolence which is the basis of true religion, and that warmed his youthful breast, continued to animate it with unabated fervency: “That Being,” said he, “before whose piercing eye all the intricate foldings and dark recesses of the human heart become expanded and illuminated, is my witness, with what sincerity, with what ardour, I wish for the happiness of the whole race of mankind; how much I admire that disposition of lands and seas, which affords a communication between distant regions, and a mutual exchange of benefits; how sincerely I approve of those social refinements which really add to our happiness, and induce us with gratitude to acknowledge our great Creator’s goodness; how I delight in a participation of the discoveries made from time to time in nature’s works, by our philosophic brethren in Europe.”
In the opinion of our Philosopher, “every enlargement of our faculties, every new happiness conferred upon us, every step we advance towards the perfection of the Divinity, will very probably render us more and more sensible of his inexhaustible stores of communicable bliss, and of his inaccessible perfections.”[[352]] He supposed, that, even in this world, “wherein we are only permitted ‘to look about us and to die,’ there is ample provision made for employing every faculty of the human mind; even allowing its powers to be constantly enlarged through an endless repetition of ages;” but admitting, at the same time, “that there is nothing in it capable of satisfying us.”
Similar indications of his extensive benevolence, and of the high sense he entertained of the dignity of human nature, as well as of the attributes of the Deity, are found every where in his writings; and the “elegant and pious extract” (as it is termed by Dr. Rush, in his Eulogium,) from a letter to one of his friends, quoted in another place, affords a striking instance of the prevalence of that disposition in the towering mind of Rittenhouse.
If “he believed political, as well as moral, evil, to be intruders into the society of men,”[[353]] he was certainly too well acquainted with the moral constitution of man and the evident nature of humanity, to suppose, “that a time would come, when every part of our globe would echo back the heavenly proclamation of universal peace on earth and good will to man.”[[354]] Possessing a most benevolent disposition, he did believe, “that a conduct in this life, depending on our choice, will stamp our characters for ages yet to come.” He was so far from expecting any thing like perfectibility here, that he thought, that man as a free agent, in darkening his faculties by an unworthy application of them here on earth, might “degrade himself to some inferior rank of being,” hereafter; while, on the other hand, by “the exercise of virtue, and a rational employment of those talents we are entrusted with,”—“we shall, in a few years, be promoted to a more exalted rank among the creatures of God—have our understandings greatly enlarged—be enabled to follow Truth in all her labyrinths, with an higher relish and more facility; and thus lay the foundation for an eternal improvement in knowledge and happiness.” Our Philosopher acknowledged, that he was “not one of those sanguine spirits who seem to think, that, when the withered hand of death hath drawn up the curtain of eternity, almost all distance between the creature and the creator, between finite and infinite, will be annihilated.[annihilated.]”[[355]] Yet, the Writer of these Memoirs has no hesitation in expressing an opinion, with which a long and intimate acquaintance with Dr. Rittenhouse has forcibly impressed his own mind; that this virtuous man was inclined to believe, or rather, actually did believe, (with the distinguished author of the Dissertation on the Prophecies,)[[356]] in a final restitution of all things to harmony and happiness in another state of existence.
The learned Eulogist of our Philosopher, whom his present biographer has already so often quoted with much interest and pleasure, (although he is, on some points, so unfortunate as to be compelled to dissent from him,) has remarked, that Dr. Rittenhouse “was well acquainted with practical metaphysics.” He had, without doubt, attentively studied those branches, at least, of this science, which embrace moral philosophy, connected, as it is, with a rational system of natural religion: probably, too, he had investigated its more abstruse and less useful departments: and, perhaps, he had also directed his all-inquisitive mind, in some degree, to a contemplation of those mental vagaries of the modern philosophy, as it is termed, which neither subserve the purposes of ethics or of natural theology: a system, if it deserve that appellation, made up of such incongruous materials, such visionary notions, as by their falsity alone, independently of their mischievous operation in society, seem calculated to dishonour the name of philosophy, and to depreciate the highly meritorious services rendered to mankind by the votaries of true science. If, however, Dr. Rittenhouse ever did condescend to employ any considerable portion of his valuable time, in making himself acquainted with the delusive principles of this multifarious sect of pseudo-philosophers, it has been already manifested with what sentiments of disapprobation, if not of abhorrence, he regarded their doctrines.[[357]]
It being presumed, therefore, that our Philosopher was, in the words of his Eulogist, “well acquainted with practical metaphysics,” an inference may thence be fairly made, that, with respect to metaphysical deductions, “he could use them,” as has been said of Maclaurin, “with as much subtlety and force as any man living; but”—also like that celebrated philosopher—“he chose rather, in his conversation as well as his writings, to bring the matter to a short issue, in his own way.” Certain it is, however, that Dr. Rittenhouse reprobated, as did his eminent predecessor just named, that subtile, vague and inconclusive kind of ratiocination, the mode of reasoning, in matters of abstract science, from causes to effects,[[358]] which so much characterize that “cobweb philosophy,”[[359]] of which the mass of mere metaphysical systems is made up. Rittenhouse was a practical philosopher: he held in contempt the obscurity of mysticism, in every object of rational enquiry; viewing it as being, always, either the parent or the offspring of error. He loved “sober certainty,”[[360]] in philosophy; and therefore he pursued Truth, in all his scientific researches, in that practical and rational mode of philosophizing, which he deemed conformable to the nature of truth itself, and best adapted to the construction and faculties of the human mind.[mind.][[361]]