"The Americans Who Risked Everything"
The story behind the 56 signers of
The Declaration of Independence
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.
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."