A Hot Day in Philadelphia, 1776 . . . .
Surprise, surprise — the Declaration of Independence wasn’t actually signed on July 4, 1776. Most of its 56 historic signers took up their quill pens a few weeks later, on August 2, though a few of those signatures dribbled in weeks later – one, possibly years later.
And though tradition has us celebrating the Fourth as ‘Independence Day,’ John Adams expected that the Second of July would become the day future generations would commemorate – the date the Continental Congress voted in favor of independence.
So, if they’d already voted on independence, and signing hadn’t taken place yet, what did happen that hot day in Philadelphia?
Turns out July 4 was when the final, formal wording of the independence document was okayed. It was a lengthy document to go through. And 250 years ago, the delegates were tired and worried. Their fight with Great Britain had already been going on for fifteen difficult months, and the worst of the conflict, they knew, was yet to come.
While they sat in Philadelphia, British troops were assembling nearby in New York. A major military campaign seemed unavoidable. And the colonists were definitely the underdog in the coming fight. Great Britain had a world-class military. The colonists, by comparison, were poorly trained and under-armed.
At its heart, the disagreement with Britain was over not just one but three thorny issues: taxation, self-rule, and high-handed demands that the colonists found oppressive. And, like most disputes, this one had snowballed over time.
In response to the enthusiastic Boston Tea Party shenanigans of December 16, 1773, Great Britain had cracked down harshly. In an effort to resolve things, the colonists had convened a first Continental Congress in 1774, hoping that jointly petitioning for change might improve things. Instead, tensions only escalated.
Actual shots were exchanged in April, 1775 at both Lexington and Concord. And once blood had been shed, the colonists’ outlook shifted. No longer did they consider themselves aggrieved-but-still-loyal subjects. For many, the rebellion against King George III’s rule had begun.
George Washington began assembling troops. And when a second Continental Congress convened a month after the shooting, in May, 1775, it took on the duties and character of a true, independent government: issuing currency, borrowing money, opening diplomatic negotiations with foreign powers, raising an army. So when the delegates in Philadelphia began hashing out the final, formal language of their Declaration of Independence in July, 1776, the fight with Britain had already begun.
But why bother put a declaration in writing? Lines had already been drawn; everyone already knew what issues were in dispute. In fact, those 56 signers had every reason not to sign. Putting your name to a document that openly confirmed rebellion against the king was arguably evidence of treason. The signers’ lives, property, and businesses were all on the line. So why create a formal Declaration of Independence in the first place?
It was a “fish or cut bait” moment for the disgruntled colonists. Thomas Paine’s ground-breaking pamphlet Common Sense, published six months earlier, had laid out a convincing argument against leadership an ocean away. But some colonists resisted cutting cut ties with the king. Spelling out the reasons for separation in their own document was an important part of the Continental Congress’s public education campaign – a step they hoped would promote unity in the colonies.
The signers also were eager for aid from France and Spain. And to win that, they needed recognition as a separate governmental entity, not simply a disgruntled British faction.
But settling on the precise wording of the formal Declaration of Independence wasn’t easy. Working from rented rooms on Market Street, 33-year-old Thomas Jefferson drafted most of the proposed text sometime between June 11 (when a committee to write the document was formed) and June 28th. Other committee members suggested a few changes. But the really hard work began on July 2, after Congress formally approved the proposition that the colonies “are, and of right ought to be, free and independent States.” The delegates then began going through Jefferson’s proposed wording, line by line. And Jefferson wasn’t happy about what transpired; he would later complain about them “mangling” his prose.
All told, about a quarter of Jefferson’s original draft was deleted. Much to his chagrin, one fairly long section railing against Great Britain’s encouragement of the slave trade was stricken. His unhappiness over that was more than a little ironic; Jefferson himself was a slave-holder. But while he hoped the institution would eventually die out, other delegates varied widely on the issue. In the end, to preserve unity among the revolting colonies, the topic of slavery was left for another day.
There were other tweaks to the document as well. Jefferson’s original draft, for example, read: “We hold these truths to be sacred and undeniable.” In the final version, that became one of the document’s most iconic phrases: “We hold these truths to be self-evident. . .” That was classic Enlightenment thinking. Reason alone, they were saying, was enough to recognize these “truths.”
Even after the debates over wording, there would be more drama to follow. Though twelve of the thirteen original colonies voted to accept the Declaration’s wording, uncertainty remained over whether the colony of New York would also agree. Initially, its delegates abstained. Only after further instructions were received from home on July 9th did the New York delegates officially support it, allowing the colonies to make the Declaration of Independence unanimous.
The discussions had been difficult. The delegates were exhausted. But once the language was finalized, they were ready to move forward. Preparation of the official clerk’s version – the parchment that today sits protected behind glass – was ordered on July 19, and signing finally began August 2nd.
It was fitting for John Hancock, as president of the Continental Congress, to affix his signature to the document first. And there’s a humorous story (which may or may not be true) about why his signature is so incredibly large. Hancock, it’s said, wanted to make sure King George could read his name without spectacles.
The signers had no idea if they would succeed or fail. But in this document they pledged to each other their “lives, fortunes, and sacred honor.” They would hang together, come hell or high water.
With battles looming, the delegates didn’t want to wait to begin sharing the big news. Copies of the final, approved language were ordered printed immediately.
Working by candlelight through the night of July 4th, printer John Dunlap and his staff hand-set the words on his printing press, letter by letter, turning out an estimated 200 “broadsides” – large, poster-sized sheets of paper bearing the words of the declaration about independence. The work seems to have been done with haste; metal type shifted slightly in several places, and some copies were apparently folded while the ink was still damp. But those copies were the best way the Continental Congress had to get the word out quickly.
At the time, the colonies had a population of about 2.5 million people. Roughly half that total were female, and of course many were children. Historians estimate that only about half a million of those residents were free, white males, and only 60 to 90 percent of those would have been eligible to vote. But the signers were eager for the news to reach everybody. Public opinion mattered. Support for independence mattered.
Those hastily-printed broadsides were transmitted by every available means: via horseback, by ship, or passed hand-to-hand. It was hot news. Still, there were only about two hundred of them.
Copies were plastered on public walls, and read aloud in town squares or on courthouse steps. Officers read the Declaration to their soldiers. Copies were read in taverns. Given the difficulties of transportation and distance, the news took weeks to reach remote communities. But sharing news by word-of-mouth was not uncommon for the day; a single speaker could reach a hundred sets of ears.
In some places, reaction to the Declaration was immediate and visceral. After hearing a reading of the document in New York City on July 9th, a group of General Washington’s troops marched to a nearby park and toppled a giant metal statue of King George. The statue’s metal would later be recycled into musket balls.
The document was “revolutionary,” of course, in the obvious way: the Founders were withdrawing their consent to be governed by a monarch an ocean away. But it was “revolutionary,” too, in the principles it espoused.
The Declaration of Independence essentially laid out a set of first principles – propositions about the nature of government and the rights of the people. The signers were saying they no longer felt themselves bound by the old ways and accepted norms. They demanded laws that were applied fairly, a voice in their own government, and recognition of basic human dignity. And those ideas truly were revolutionary in 1776.
It clearly listed the reasons for separation from Britain – the “why” for the colonies to become “free and independent states.” And it laid out a new basic pattern for how government should fundamentally work. Instead of the way “things have always been done” – with a king, a parliament, and power imposed on subjects from above, the writers of the Declaration embraced a radically different picture. Government, they said, should flow upward from the consent of the governed; and within that framework, all men were created equal. Wealth, tradition, a heirarchy of nobles with inherited land and titles – those were no longer the basis for political legitimacy.
The Declaration went on to explain how hard the colonists had tried to resolve the dispute with Britain, underscoring that government should not be cast aside for “light and transient” reasons.
But they’d tried. They’d petitioned the king. They’d demanded their grievances be redressed, and it hadn’t worked.
Today, two hundred and fifty years later, it’s the Fourth of July that we’re celebrating. It wasn’t the day the conflict with Britain first began. It wasn’t even the day the vote for independence was taken.
Instead, it was the day when the Declaration’s radical, revolutionary language was approved and finalized, explaining both why they were separating, and how they believed government should operate. And that careful, precise language still offers a valuable 20,000-foot perspective.
Those original 56 signers didn’t agree on everything. They didn’t see eye-to-eye on slavery. They didn’t agree on religion. The colonies themselves weren’t homogenous. They had different geographies, different cultures, differing political viewpoints.
And yet, the men who put their signatures to the Declaration of Independence found common ground in a set of fundamental values. And, having tried and failed to resolve their important disputes with Great Britain, they vowed to take a radical step together.
Their separation from the former “way things were done” wasn’t hasty. It wasn’t arrogant. It was based on clearly-articulated principles: Equality, not ruling cliques. Respect for citizens’ rights in place of high-handed edicts. Authority that flowed upward from consent of the governed, rather than down from a lofty seat of power. A government that should be accountable to the people it serves, and that’s able to be reined-in when necessary.
Two hundred and fifty years after that hot, exhausting Philadelphia day, America still isn’t perfect. Its founders were human, not perfect people.
But if there’s a message for today embedded in this founding document, it’s that those foundational principles still matter. And hopefully that as a country, we can still agree on enough to try to make things better. Together.
