It was an act of something more than courage to vote for Independence in
1776. It was an act of far-sighted wisdom as well, and it was done with
the utmost possible deliberation.
The last great debate upon the subject took place on Monday, the first
of July, 1776. Fifty-one members were present that morning, a number
that must have pretty well filled the square, not very large, room
in Independence Hall, which many of our readers visited during the
Centennial year.
No spectators were present beyond the officers of the House. John
Hancock was in the chairman's seat. In the room overhead the legislature
of Pennsylvania was in session. Out of doors, in the public squares and
grounds adjacent, troops were drilling, as they had been every day
for months past, and a great force of men was at work fortifying the
Delaware below the city.
This day had been set apart for the final and decisive consideration of
Independence. The draft of the Declaration, as written by Mr. Jefferson,
had been handed in three days before, and lay upon the table--perhaps
visibly so, as well as in a parliamentary sense.
The question had been discussed, and discussed again, and again
discussed, until it seemed to the more ardent minds a waste of breath
to argue it further; but it requires time, much time, as well as great
patience, to bring a representative body to the point of deciding
irrevocably a matter so momentous, involving their own and their
country's destiny.
_Ought_ we to sever the tie which binds us to the mother country? That
was not so very difficult to answer; but there was another question:
_Can_ we? Britain is mighty, and what are we? Thirteen colonies of
farmers, with little money, no allies, no saltpetre even, and all the
Indians open to British gold and British rum. Then there was another
question: Will the people at home sustain us?
At nine o'clock President Hancock rapped to order. The first business
was the reading of letters addressed to the Congress, which had arrived
since the adjournment on Saturday. One of these, from General Washington
in New York, contained news calculated to alarm all but the most
stalwart spirits: Canada quite lost to the cause; Arnold's army in full,
though orderly, retreat from that province; a powerful British fleet
just arriving in New York harbor, three or four ships drifting in daily,
and now forty-five sail all at once signalled from Sandy Hook.
"Some say more," added General Washington, "and I suppose the whole
fleet will be in within a day or two."
The whole fleet! As if these were not enough; and, in truth, the number
soon reached a hundred and twenty, with thousands of red-coats in them
abundantly supplied with every requisite. Washington's own army numbered
on that day seven thousand seven hundred and fifty-four men, of whom, as
he reported, eight hundred had no guns at all, fourteen hundred had bad
guns, and half the infantry no bayonets. Add to this fifty-three British
ships just arrived at Charleston, with General Clinton's expedition on
board.
We must bear this news in mind in order to appreciate what followed in
Congress that day. When General Washington's letter had been read, the
House went into committee of the whole, "to take into consideration the
question of Independence."
The boldest man upon that floor could not avoid feeling that the crisis
was serious and the issue doubtful. As if to deepen this impression,
there soon rose to address the House John Dickinson, of Pennsylvania, a
good man and a patriot, an able speaker and better writer, but rich, not
of robust health, and conservative almost to timidity.
From the first, while opposing the arbitrary measures of the King, he
had been equally opposed to a Declaration of Independence; and to-day,
refreshed by the rest of Sunday, and feeling that it was now or never
with his party, he spoke with all the force and solemnity of which he
was capable.
"I value," said he, "the love of my country as I ought, but I value
my country more, and I desire this illustrious assembly to witness the
integrity, if not the policy, of my conduct. The first campaign will be
decisive of the controversy.
"The declaration will not strengthen us by one man, or by the least
supply, while it may expose our soldiers to additional cruelties and
outrages. Without some preliminary trials of our strength we ought
not to commit our country upon an alternative where to recede would be
infamy, and to persist might be destruction."
In this strain he spoke long, urging all the reasons for delay which an
ingenious mind could devise, and clothing his argument with the charm of
a fine literary style.
He ceased. There was a pause. No one seemed willing to break the
silence, until it began to be embarrassing, and then painful.
Many eyes were turned toward John Adams, who for eighteen months had
been the chief spokesman of the party for independence. He had advocated
the measure before Thomas Paine had written "Common Sense," and when it
had not one influential friend in Philadelphia. Early in the previous
year, when it first became known by the accidental publicity of a
letter that he favored the Declaration of Independence, the solid men of
Philadelphia shunned him as if he had had the leprosy.
"I walked the streets of Philadelphia," he once wrote, "in solitude,
borne down by the weight of care and unpopularity," and Dr. Rush
mentions that he saw him thus walking the streets alone, "an object of
nearly universal scorn and detestation."
But he was on the gaining side. The cruel burning of Falmouth on the
coast of Maine weaned New England from the mother country, and the
burning of Norfolk completed the same office for Virginia.
To-day he stood with a majority of the people behind him. To-day he
spoke the sentiments of his country. To-day he uttered the words which
every man on the floor but John Dickinson wished to hear uttered.
Yet he did not immediately rise; for he wished some one else, some one
less committed to Independence than he was, to take the lead in that
day's debate. At length, however, since every one else hung back, he got
upon his feet to answer Mr. Dickinson.
The speech which he delivered on this occasion was deemed by those who
heard it the most powerful effort of his life, though he had made no
special preparation for it beforehand. He had thought of the subject
from his college days, and had never ceased to regard the Independence
of his country as only a question of time. During his professional life,
it had been the frequent theme of his reflections, and he was perfectly
familiar with every phase of it.
"This is the first time in my life," said he, "that I have ever wished
for the talents and eloquence of the ancient orators of Greece and Rome,
for I am very sure that none of them ever had before him a question of
more importance to his country and to the world. They would, probably,
upon less occasions than this, have begun by solemn invocations to their
divinities for assistance.
"But the question before me appears so simple that I have confidence
enough in the plain understanding and common-sense that have been given
me to believe that I can answer, to the satisfaction of the House, all
the arguments which have been produced, notwithstanding the abilities
which have been displayed and the eloquence with which they have been
enforced."
Proceeding then to the discussion of the question, he dwelt strongly
upon the point that, as the colonies had gone too far to recede, as
they had already been put outside of British law, the Declaration of
Independence could not possibly make their condition worse, but would
give them some obvious and solid advantages.
Now, they were rebels against their king, and could not negotiate
on equal terms with a sovereign power. The moment they declared
Independence, they would be themselves a sovereignty. The measure, he
contended, would be as prudent as it was just. It would help them in
many ways and hinder them in no way.
We have no report of this celebrated oration, and can only gather its
purport from allusions scattered here and there in the letters of those
who heard it. We know, however, that Mr. Adams dwelt forcibly upon this
one position, that the king himself having absolved them from their
allegiance, and having made unprovoked war upon them, the proposed
Declaration would be simply a proclamation to the world of a state of
things already existing.
Many members followed. When the debate had proceeded for a long time,
three new members from New Jersey came in: Richard Stockton, Dr.
Witherspoon and Francis Hopkinson. These gentlemen, on learning
the business before the House, expressed a strong desire to hear a
recapitulation of the arguments which had been brought forward.
Again there was an awkward silence. Again all eyes were turned upon John
Adams. Again he shrank from taking the floor. Mr. Edward Rutledge of
South Carolina came to him and said:
"Nobody will speak but you upon this subject. You have all the topics so
ready that you must satisfy the gentlemen from New Jersey."
Mr. Adams replied that he was ashamed to repeat what he had said
twenty times before. As the new members still insisted on hearing a
recapitulation, he at length rose once more, and gave a concise summary
of the whole debate. The New Jersey gentlemen said they were fully
satisfied and were ready for the question. It was now six o'clock in the
evening. The debate had continued all day, nine hours, without the least
interval for rest or refreshment, and during that long period, as Mr.
Jefferson wrote at a later day, "all the powers of the soul had been
distended with the magnitude of the object."
Mr. Edward Rutledge, of South Carolina, then rose, and asked as a
favor that the voting be deferred until the next morning, as he and his
fellow-members wished still further to deliberate.
The request was granted; the House adjourned; the hungry and exhausted
members went to their homes.
The next morning members met in a cheerful mood, for it was well
ascertained that every colony was prepared to vote for Independence.
When Mr. Adams reached the State House door, he had the pleasure of
meeting Caesar Rodney, still in his riding-boots, for he had ridden all
night from Delaware to vote on the momentous question. Mr. Adams, it is
said, had sent an express at his own expense eighty miles to summon him,
and there he was to greet him at the State House door.
The great question was speedily put, when every State but New York voted
for declaring independence, and that State's adherence was delayed a few
days only by a series of accidents.
What a happy man was John Adams, and what a triumphant letter was that
which he wrote to his noble wife on the 3d of July, telling her the
great news that Congress had passed a resolution, without one dissenting
colony, "that these united colonies are, and of right ought to be,
free and independent States." Then he continued in the passage so often
quoted:
"The second day of July, 1776, will be the most memorable epoch in the
history of America. I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated by
succeeding generations as the great anniversary festival. It ought to be
commemorated as the day of deliverance by solemn acts of devotion to God
Almighty. It ought to be solemnized with pomp and parade, with shows,
games, sports, guns, bells, bonfires and illuminations from one end of
this continent to the other, from this time forward forevermore."
But, no; not on July second. The transaction was not yet complete. As
soon as the vote was recorded, Mr. Jefferson's draft of the Declaration
was taken from the table, and discussed paragraph by paragraph. Many
alterations were made, thirty-four in all, most of them for the better.
This discussion lasted the rest of that day, all the next, and most
of the next, which was the fourth. Late in that afternoon the members
present signed the document, and so the day we celebrate is the FOURTH
OF JULY.