The person first appointed to that high trust, under the republican government of Pennsylvania, was David Rittenhouse: a man whose stern integrity, numerous public services, and uniform adherence to those principles which gave rise to the American revolution, were well calculated to inspire a general confidence in his character; more especially, in times when virtue and talents were considered as meritorious qualities in public men, by those who elevated them to office. The first legislative body of the State, after the declaration of independence, assembled at Philadelphia in October, 1776; and, on the 14th day of January, in the following year, they chose Mr. Rittenhouse to be the state-treasurer, without a dissenting voice. In like manner, he was unanimously continued in that station, during twelve succeeding years; in the last of which, he sent to the legislature his resignation of that office: this event shall be more particularly noticed in its proper place in the order of time.
In consequence of the possession of the city of Philadelphia by the British army, from the latter end of September, 1777, until the beginning of the ensuing summer, the session of the state-legislature which intervened, was held at Lancaster. The compulsory removal from the capital, not only of the government of Pennsylvania but of congress also, and all the offices attached to the seat of the national government, produced an high degree of agitation and resentment in the public mind; more especially in Pennsylvania, where the evils occasioned by the occupancy of their capital by an hostile army, were more keenly felt by the citizens.
Under these impressions, the general assembly of that state passed a law on the 13th of October (only seventeen days after the British forces entered Philadelphia,) entitled “An act for constituting a council of safety, &c.” By this act, twelve persons therein named, of whom David Rittenhouse was one, were constituted that council: and to this body, jointly with the supreme executive council of the state, great and extraordinary powers were given, to punish (even capitally) offenders, “traitors or others, who from their general conduct, or conversation, should be deemed inimical to the common cause of liberty and the United States of North-America.” The irritation, that could have provoked such a measure, must have been extreme! for, surely, nothing less than an extremity of necessity could be urged as any sort of justification, in a free country, of a legislative act, whereby the constitution was grossly violated, laws were dispensed with, and a summary authority of the highest nature, vested in a tribunal unknown to the laws and unwarranted by the constitution.[[187]] It is believed, however, that no proceedings were had under this strange legislative act: and the writer is firmly persuaded, that neither Mr. Rittenhouse, nor some others of the gentlemen who constituted the tribunal erected by that act, would have undertaken to exercise some of the powers required of them, thereby.
Daring the occupancy of Philadelphia by the British forces under Sir William Howe, the commander in chief, from the 26th of September, 1777, until the evacuation of that city on the 18th of June, in the following year, Mr. Rittenhouse resided at Lancaster;[[188]] where he was busily employed in the duties of his office of treasurer of the state.[[189]] Before his removal from Philadelphia, he had placed his family at or in the vicinity of his farm in Norriton, distant about twenty miles in a north-westwardly direction from the capital; then conceiving that situation to be a place of safety from any hostile excursions. While he himself continued in the borough of Lancaster, he made his home at the house of the late William Henry, Esq. at that time treasurer of the rich and populous county of the same name; a situation which was very commodious for the business of his office, from its connexion with that of the county-treasurer, and one which was also rendered the more agreeable, by reason of Mr. Henry being a person of very considerable mechanical ingenuity.
This separation of Mr. Rittenhouse from his wife and children—attended too, as it was, by the most embarrassing[embarrassing] circumstances, and great uncertainty with respect to the extent of its continuance—produced, in such a disposition as his, the most poignant feelings. His lot, it is true, was that of thousands of his fellow-citizens: nor were the opposite party exempt from similar evils; many of whom were obliged to abandon their homes, and, after making great sacrifices, to seek an asylum among strangers. These were a part of the miseries inseparable from a state of war; and some of them were of that nature which necessarily resulted from a war of so singular a character; considerations, however, which could not afford much alleviation to the anxious feelings of our Philosopher, in his exile: those sensations were in his mind, extremely acute; aggravated as they were, by the almost hopeless condition of his native country at that time.[[190]]
A letter which he wrote to his wife, from Lancaster, on the 26th of January, 1778, strongly bespeaks his inquietude and distress, at that alarming period; and is, besides, so very expressive of his purity of heart and the delicacy of his conjugal and parental affections, that the following extracts from it will, it is presumed, be strikingly indicative of his principles and temper.
“One of your last,” says Mr. Rittenhouse to his wife, “convinces me, that the fears I expressed in a former letter are well-founded; I mean, that you will write, when writing is painful to you: Indeed, my dear H. I am not so unreasonable as to desire it.”—“Your letters, my dearest H. give me mingled pleasure and pain. There is nothing in this world I value so much, as your esteem and affection: Your very kind expressions of regard, and concern for my health, would therefore make me happy, if it were not for our unfortunate situation. But we have long since talked of the necessity of reconciling ourselves to the prospect of a separation,—perhaps for years: this, I fear, you have still made little progress in doing, if I may judge from your letters. Nevertheless, the dismal prospect still continues. I cannot, indeed, boast of much more resolution myself. If providence has espoused the cause of our enemies, for wise reasons unknown to us,—Heaven, nevertheless, is my witness, with what integrity I have acted; and, that the virtue and happiness of my fellow-creatures has always been my principal object. I am, therefore, not at all distressed on my own account, confident of being happy, in whatever part of the world my lot may be thrown: but how to leave you exposed to the frowns of fortune; to leave you to the mercy of an unfeeling world, rendered more callous by general distress; to leave you thus, confiding only in the goodness of Providence, is what I have still to learn. May kind Heaven render it unnecessary!
“I shall perhaps, before I seal this, appoint a time to meet you. In my last, I partly promised to come and stay a fortnight with you: but I do not now think it so safe, as I did then. In our present situation, I should not think it prudent to stay above one night with you, as parties of horse are employed to pick up particular persons. For this reason, I would rather meet you at one of your brothers’,[brothers’,] or at sister’s;[[191]] but I apprehend the Schuylkill is, at present, difficult—if not dangerous—to cross, on account of the ice.
“Tuesday morning.—I am now nearly determined to appoint next Saturday week, in the evening, to meet you at brother John’s;[[192]] and yet I fear it may expose one or both of us to a very uncomfortable ride. I will, however, be there, if the weather be tolerable and health permit; but do not come, my dear H. if the weather should be bad; because if I do not find you there, I shall proceed to brother Israel’s,[[193]] where I shall be glad to find you on Sunday, in order to accompany you home. If you can find any opportunity to write before then, I shall be glad to receive a line.”
After experiencing the numerous and distressing privations incident to a nine months banishment from his home and separation from his family—during a period, too, of great calamity and suffering among his countrymen, Mr. Rittenhouse most joyfully returned to Philadelphia, soon after its abandonment by the hostile army; and there, once more, enjoyed the solace of a reunion with his wife and children; amidst whose tender embraces, and the mutual congratulations of his friends and fellow-citizens, especially of the returning exiles, he participated largely in those delightful sensations with which such an occasion, and such scenes, must have inspired a virtuous heart.