This is why we celebrate Independence Day.
Worth the time to read.
"Our Lives, Our Fortunes, Our Sacred Honor"
It was a glorious morning. The sun was shining and the wind was from
the Southeast. Up especially early, a tall bony, redheaded young
Virginian found time to buy a new thermometer, for which he paid three
pounds, fifteen shillings. He also bought gloves for Martha, his wife,
who was ill at home.
Thomas Jefferson arrived early at the
statehouse. The temperature was 72.5 degrees and the horseflies weren't
nearly so bad at that hour. It was a lovely room, very large, with
gleaming white walls. The chairs were comfortable. Facing the single
door were two brass fireplaces, but they would not be used today.
The moment the door was shut, and it was always kept locked, the room
became an oven. The tall windows were shut, so that loud quarreling
voices could not be heard by passersby. Small openings atop the windows
allowed a slight stir of air, and also a large number of horseflies.
Jefferson records that "the horseflies were dexterous in finding necks,
and the silk of stockings was nothing to them." All discussing was
punctuated by the slap of hands on necks.
On the wall at the
back, facing the president's desk, was a panoply -- consisting of a
drum, swords, and banners seized from Fort Ticonderoga the previous
year. Ethan Allen and Benedict Arnold had captured the place, shouting
that they were taking it "in the name of the Great Jehovah and the
Continental Congress!"
Now Congress got to work, promptly taking
up an emergency measure about which there was discussion but no
dissension. "Resolved: That an application be made to the Committee of
Safety of Pennsylvania for a supply of flints for the troops at New
York."
Then Congress transformed itself into a committee of the
whole. The Declaration of Independence was read aloud once more, and
debate resumed. Though Jefferson was the best writer of all of them, he
had been somewhat verbose. Congress hacked the excess away. They did a
good job, as a side-by-side comparison of the rough draft and the final
text shows. They cut the phrase "by a self-assumed power." "Climb" was
replaced by "must read," then "must" was eliminated, then the whole
sentence, and soon the whole paragraph was cut. Jefferson groaned as
they continued what he later called "their depredations." "Inherent and
inalienable rights" came out "certain unalienable rights," and to this
day no one knows who suggested the elegant change.
A total of 86
alterations were made. Almost 500 words were eliminated, leaving 1,337.
At last, after three days of wrangling, the document was put to a vote.
Here in this hall Patrick Henry had once thundered: "I am no longer a
Virginian, sir, but an American." But today the loud, sometimes bitter
argument stilled, and without fanfare the vote was taken from north to
south by colonies, as was the custom. On July 4, 1776, the Declaration
of Independence was adopted.
There were no trumpets blown. No one
stood on his chair and cheered. The afternoon was waning and Congress
had no thought of delaying the full calendar of routine business on its
hands. For several hours they worked on many other problems before
adjourning for the day.
Much To Lose
What kind of men were
the 56 signers who adopted the Declaration of Independence and who, by
their signing, committed an act of treason against the crown? To each of
you, the names Franklin, Adams, Hancock and Jefferson are almost as
familiar as household words. Most of us, however, know nothing of the
other signers. Who were they? What happened to them?
I imagine
that many of you are somewhat surprised at the names not there: George
Washington, Alexander Hamilton, Patrick Henry. All were elsewhere.
Ben Franklin was the only really old man. Eighteen were under 40; three
were in their 20s. Of the 56 almost half - 24 - were judges and
lawyers. Eleven were merchants, nine were landowners and farmers, and
the remaining 12 were doctors, ministers, and politicians.
With
only a few exceptions, such as Samuel Adams of Massachusetts, these were
men of substantial property. All but two had families. The vast
majority were men of education and standing in their communities. They
had economic security as few men had in the 18th Century.
Each
had more to lose from revolution than he had to gain by it. John
Hancock, one of the richest men in America, already had a price of 500
pounds on his head. He signed in enormous letters so that his Majesty
could now read his name without glasses and could now double the reward.
Ben Franklin wryly noted: "Indeed we must all hang together, otherwise
we shall most assuredly hang separately."
Fat Benjamin Harrison
of Virginia told tiny Elbridge Gerry of Massachusetts: "With me it will
all be over in a minute, but you, you will be dancing on air an hour
after I am gone."
These men knew what they risked. The penalty
for treason was death by hanging. And remember, a great British fleet
was already at anchor in New York Harbor.
They were sober men. There
were no dreamy-eyed intellectuals or draft card burners here. They were
far from hot-eyed fanatics yammering for an explosion. They simply
asked for the status quo. It was change they resisted. It was equality
with the mother country they desired. It was taxation with
representation they sought. They were all conservatives, yet they
rebelled.
It was principle, not property, that had brought these
men to Philadelphia. Two of them became presidents of the United States.
Seven of them became state governors. One died in office as vice
president of the United States. Several would go on to be US Senators.
One, the richest man in America, in 1828 founded the Baltimore and Ohio
Railroad. One, a delegate from Philadelphia, was the only real poet,
musician and philosopher of the signers. (It was he, Francis Hopkinson
not Betsy Ross who designed the United States flag.)
Richard
Henry Lee, a delegate from Virginia, had introduced the resolution to
adopt the Declaration of Independence in June of 1776. He was prophetic
in his concluding remarks: "Why then sir, why do we longer delay? Why
still deliberate? Let this happy day give birth to an American Republic.
Let her arise not to devastate and to conquer but to reestablish the
reign of peace and law.
"The eyes of Europe are fixed upon us.
She demands of us a living example of freedom that may exhibit a
contrast in the felicity of the citizen to the ever-increasing tyranny
which desolates her polluted shores. She invites us to prepare an asylum
where the unhappy may find solace, and the persecuted repost.
"If we are not this day wanting in our duty, the names of the American
Legislatures of 1776 will be placed by posterity at the side of all of
those whose memory has been and ever will be dear to virtuous men and
good citizens."
Though the resolution was formally adopted July
4, it was not until July 8 that two of the states authorized their
delegates to sign, and it was not until August 2 that the signers met at
Philadelphia to actually put their names to the Declaration.
William Ellery, delegate from Rhode Island, was curious to see the
signers' faces as they committed this supreme act of personal courage.
He saw some men sign quickly, "but in no face was he able to discern
real fear." Stephan Hopkins, Ellery's colleague from Rhode Island, was a
man past 60. As he signed with a shaking pen, he declared: "My hand
trembles, but my heart does not."
"Most Glorious Service"
Even before the list was published, the British marked down every member
of Congress suspected of having put his name to treason. All of them
became the objects of vicious manhunts. Some were taken. Some, like
Jefferson, had narrow escapes. All who had property or families near
British strongholds suffered.
· Francis Lewis, New York delegate
saw his home plundered -- and his estates in what is now Harlem --
completely destroyed by British Soldiers. Mrs. Lewis was captured and
treated with great brutality. Though she was later exchanged for two
British prisoners through the efforts of Congress, she died from the
effects of her abuse.
· William Floyd, another New York delegate,
was able to escape with his wife and children across Long Island Sound
to Connecticut, where they lived as refugees without income for seven
years. When they came home they found a devastated ruin.
·
Philips Livingstone had all his great holdings in New York confiscated
and his family driven out of their home. Livingstone died in 1778 still
working in Congress for the cause.
· Louis Morris, the fourth New
York delegate, saw all his timber, crops, and livestock taken. For
seven years he was barred from his home and family.
· John Hart
of Trenton, New Jersey, risked his life to return home to see his dying
wife. Hessian soldiers rode after him, and he escaped in the woods.
While his wife lay on her deathbed, the soldiers ruined his farm and
wrecked his homestead. Hart, 65, slept in caves and woods as he was
hunted across the countryside. When at long last, emaciated by hardship,
he was able to sneak home, he found his wife had already been buried,
and his 13 children taken away. He never saw them again. He died a
broken man in 1779, without ever finding his family.
· Dr. John
Witherspoon, signer, was president of the College of New Jersey, later
called Princeton. The British occupied the town of Princeton, and
billeted troops in the college. They trampled and burned the finest
college library in the country.
· Judge Richard Stockton, another
New Jersey delegate signer, had rushed back to his estate in an effort
to evacuate his wife and children. The family found refuge with friends,
but a Tory sympathizer betrayed them. Judge Stockton was pulled from
bed in the night and brutally beaten by the arresting soldiers. Thrown
into a common jail, he was deliberately starved. Congress finally
arranged for Stockton's parole, but his health was ruined. The judge was
released as an invalid, when he could no longer harm the British cause.
He returned home to find his estate looted and did not live to see
the triumph of the Revolution. His family was forced to live off
charity.
· Robert Morris, merchant prince of Philadelphia,
delegate and signer, met Washington's appeals and pleas for money year
after year. He made and raised arms and provisions which made it
possible for Washington to cross the Delaware at Trenton. In the process
he lost 150 ships at sea, bleeding his own fortune and credit almost
dry.
· George Clymer, Pennsylvania signer, escaped with his
family from their home, but their property was completely destroyed by
the British in the Germantown and Brandywine campaigns.
· Dr.
Benjamin Rush, also from Pennsylvania, was forced to flee to Maryland.
As a heroic surgeon with the army, Rush had several narrow escapes.
· John Martin, a Tory in his views previous to the debate, lived in a
strongly loyalist area of Pennsylvania. When he came out for
independence, most of his neighbors and even some of his relatives
ostracized him. He was a sensitive and troubled man, and many believed
this action killed him. When he died in 1777, his last words to his
tormentors were: "Tell them that they will live to see the hour when
they shall acknowledge it [the signing] to have been the most glorious
service that I have ever rendered to my country."
· William Ellery, Rhode Island delegate, saw his property and home burned to the ground.
· Thomas Lynch, Jr., South Carolina delegate, had his health broken
from privation and exposures while serving as a company commander in the
military. His doctors ordered him to seek a cure in the West Indies and
on the voyage, he and his young bride were drowned at sea.
·
Edward Rutledge, Arthur Middleton, and Thomas Heyward, Jr., the other
three South Carolina signers, were taken by the British in the siege of
Charleston. They were carried as prisoners of war to St. Augustine,
Florida, where they were singled out for indignities. They were
exchanged at the end of the war, the British in the meantime having
completely devastated their large landholdings and estates.
·
Thomas Nelson, signer of Virginia, was at the front in command of the
Virginia military forces. With British General Charles Cornwallis in
Yorktown, fire from 70 heavy American guns began to destroy Yorktown
piece by piece. Lord Cornwallis and his staff moved their headquarters
into Nelson's palatial home. While American cannonballs were making a
shambles of the town, the house of Governor Nelson remained untouched.
Nelson turned in rage to the American gunners and asked, "Why do you
spare my home?"
They replied, "Sir, out of respect to you." Nelson
cried, "Give me the cannon!" and fired on his magnificent home himself,
smashing it to bits. But Nelson's sacrifice was not quite over. He had
raised $2 million for the Revolutionary cause by pledging his own
estates. When the loans came due, a newer peacetime Congress refused to
honor them, and Nelson's property was forfeited. He was never
reimbursed. He died, impoverished, a few years later at the age of 50.
Lives, Fortunes, Honor
Of those 56 who signed the Declaration of Independence, nine died of
wounds or hardships during the war. Five were captured and imprisoned,
in each case with brutal treatment. Several lost wives, sons or entire
families. One lost his 13 children. Two wives were brutally treated. All
were at one time or another the victims of manhunts and driven from
their homes. Twelve signers had their homes completely burned. Seventeen
lost everything they owned. Yet not one defected or went back on his
pledged word. Their honor, and the nation they sacrificed so much to
create is still intact.
And, finally, there is the New Jersey signer, Abraham Clark.
He gave two sons to the officer corps in the Revolutionary Army. They
were captured and sent to that infamous British prison hulk afloat in
New York Harbor known as the hell ship Jersey, where 11,000 American
captives were to die. The younger Clarks were treated with a special
brutality because of their father. One was put in solitary and given no
food. With the end almost in sight, with the war almost won, no one
could have blamed Abraham Clark for acceding to the British request when
they offered him his sons' lives if he would recant and come out for
the King and Parliament. The utter despair in this man's heart, the
anguish in his very soul, must reach out to each one of us down through
200 years with his answer: "No."
The 56 signers of the
Declaration Of Independence proved by their every deed that they made no
idle boast when they composed the most magnificent curtain line in
history. "And for the support of this Declaration with a firm reliance
on the protection of divine providence, we mutually pledge to each other
our lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honor."
RUSH
EPILOGUE: My friends, I know you have a copy of the Declaration of
Independence somewhere around the house - in an old history book (newer
ones may well omit it), an encyclopedia, or one of those artificially
aged "parchments" we all got in school years ago. I suggest that each of
you take the time this month to read through the text of the
Declaration, one of the most noble and beautiful political documents in
human history.
There is no more profound sentence than this: "We
hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal,
that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights,
that among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness..."
These are far more than mere poetic words. The underlying ideas that
infuse every sentence of this treatise have sustained this nation for
more than two centuries. They were forged in the crucible of great
sacrifice. They are living words that spring from and satisfy the
deepest cries for liberty in the human spirit.
"Sacred honor"
isn't a phrase we use much these days, but every American life is
touched by the bounty of this, the Founders' legacy. It is freedom,
tested by blood, and watered with tears.
