A Texan Commemorates Independence Day
“Be brave. Live free.” This is the essence of Texanness and Americanness.
Derrick G. Jeter
As a writer who extolls the virtue and grandness of Texanness, I occasionally receive messages from readers—Texans and non-Texans alike—along these lines: “I wish Americans loved America as much as Texans love Texas.” Others, however, criticize Texans for their love of Texas more than their love of America because they’ve heard some Texans talking about seceding to become an independent republic again. Neither sentiment is true, broadly speaking. It is true, Texans, in the general run of things, do love Texas. But they also love America.
The following is adapted from a Fourth of July celebratory piece I wrote fifteen years ago. I hope you find something in it to help you commemorate the day of our independence and remind you that even Texas-loving Texans love America.
Most of us are familiar with what took place in Philadelphia during the summer of 1776. But a reminder is ever in order.
On June 7, 1776, Virginia delegate Richard Henry Lee introduced a resolution in the Continental Congress declaring independence from Great Britain.
Resolved, That these United Colonies are, and of right ought to be, free and independent States, that they are absolved from all allegiance to the British Crown, and that all political connection between them and the State of Great Britain is, and ought to be, totally dissolved.1
This caused no little uproar among the more moderate members of Congress. They argued America was not “ripe” for such a bold move. To which John Witherspoon replied, “In my judgment the country is not only ripe for the measure, but in danger of becoming rotten for the want of it!”2
After three days of intense debate Congress was unable to reach a consensus, so they did what political bodies do: they kicked the can, postponing the vote for twenty days, until July 1. They formed a Committee of Five, consisting of John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, Benjamin Franklin, Robert Livingston, and Roger Sherman, to draft a declaration of independence. Jefferson was tasked with writing the draft. He worked on it for seventeen days. It then underwent edits from Adams and Franklin before it was presented to the congressional delegation.
Tensions ran high when Congress convened on July 1, 1776. Nose counting put the unofficial vote at nine in favor of independence, two opposed (Pennsylvania and South Carolina), one deadlocked (Delaware), and one abstaining (New York). When the official vote came the next day, twelve of the thirteen colonies voted in favor of breaking with Britain. New York abstained, waiting for final instructions from their colonial government.
On July 2, 1776, the British Colonies in America broke with England and the United States of America was born.
On July 3 and 4 the language of the Declaration was amended and polished and finally adopted officially. Only two men signed the Declaration on the Fourth of July—the President of the Congress, John Hancock, and the Secretary of Congress, Charles Thomson. The majority of delegates signed the parchment copy—the engrossed or unanimous document—on August 2. This is the copy on display in the National Archives in Washington, D.C.
We know the names of Jefferson, Adams, Franklin, and Hancock, but might be surprised who didn’t sign the Declaration—and by some who did. Most notable, George Washington wasn’t a signatory. He was in New York losing to and retreating from the British army. Nor did Patrick Henry sign, the fiery orator of “Give me liberty or give me death.”
But fifty-six men did sign. And each one had more to lose from placing his name on that document than he had to gain. As William Ellery of Rhode Island and Benjamin Rush of Pennsylvania put it, signing the Declaration was equivalent to signing their “own death warrants.”3 After Hancock signed the parchment copy on August 2, he said, “There must be no pulling different ways. We must all hang together.” Franklin supposedly quipped, “Yes, we must, indeed, all hang together, or most assuredly we shall all hang separately.”4 Heavily-built Benjamin Harrison of Virginia reportedly joked to the slightly-built Elbridge Gerry of Massachusetts: “With me it will be over in a minute, but you, you’ll be dancing on air an hour after I’m gone.”5
The Founders may have joked about their treason—and it was treason—but they knew it was serious business putting pen to parchment. Almost everyone of the fifty-six signers suffered subsequent hardships.
Among the lesser known signers was Francis Lewis, a delegate from New York. After he signed the Declaration, the British fleet, which was anchored off Long Island, fired on his home while his wife and their servants were inside. One shell struck close to Mrs. Lewis. A servant yelled for her to run, but plucky Mrs. Lewis stood her ground and said, “Another shot is not likely to hit the same spot.” British troops later ransacked the home and took Mrs. Lewis prisoner. She was denied a bed, a change of clothing, and decent food for weeks. When George Washington heard about her treatment he ordered two prominent Tory (loyalist) wives placed under house arrest. Only then did British authorities released Mrs. Lewis. She died shortly after, in 1779, at the age of sixty-four.
John Hart of Trenton, New Jersey, a man in his sixties, buried his wife Deborah Scudder Hart of thirty-six years in October 1776. In November, the still grieving Hart and his thirteen children fled when British troops drew near their home. He sent his youngest to neighbors while he lived in caves for a month, escaping the grip of Royal authorities.
Another New Jersey delegate, Abraham Clark suffered the loss of at least some of his children. Two sons, Thomas and Aaron, were captured during the war. Aaron was thrown into a New York dungeon called the Sugar House. Conditions were so brutal for the young Clark other prisoners pushed moldy bread through the keyhole of his cell. Thomas was shipped off to the notorious prison ship Jersey—a dysentery and smallpox ladened hell-hole. It was a floating morgue, where scores of dead bodies were thrown overboard every day to make room for more prisoners. According to reports, Thomas was released from the Jersey, while his brother Andrew may have died onboard.
Edward Rutledge, Arthur Middleton, and Thomas Heyward Jr. of South Carolina were captured at the siege of Charleston. Taken to St. Augustine, Florida, they were singled out for ill treatment and were not released until July 1781—at war’s end.
Finally, Thomas Nelson Jr. of Yorktown, Virginia: During the siege of his hometown, Nelson learned General Charles Cornwallis was using his house for British headquarters. As a brigadier general commanding the Virginia militia, he ordered American gunners to fire upon his mansion. It’s reported he offered five guineas for every hit. Gunners refused, so he took over the cannons and fired on his own home.
When these fifty-six men put pen to paper and scratched their names to the Declaration of Independence it was no idle boast. They committed themselves to its closing line: “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.”
What about us? What are we committed to: security or freedom?
Freedom is not for the faint of heart. It demands courage, wisdom, and self-sacrifice. Security demands none of these. It only demands freedom. “Great nations rise and fall,” it’s been said. “The people go from bondage to spiritual faith; from spiritual faith to courage; from courage to liberty; from liberty to abundance; from abundance to selfishness; from selfishness to complacency; from complacency to apathy; from apathy to fear; from fear to dependence; and from dependence back to bondage.”6 It’s up to you to determine whether this cycle is correct and where we find ourselves in the United States today.
More than 2,200 years before our founders placed their names on the Declaration of Independence, the Greek general and orator Pericles, following the first year of the Peloponnesian War, delivered one of the greatest eulogies in history. He said, “Happiness [is] the fruit of freedom [and the fruit of] freedom [is] valor.”7
The secret of happiness is liberty and the secret of liberty is courage.
Our founders believed God made us free. They fought against the powerful pull to give up liberty for the sake of security. This took courage, demonstrated in not only in signing the Declaration of Independence but also in their mottos: “Join, or Die,” “Give me liberty or give me death,” “Live free, or die,” and “Don’t tread on me.” It takes the same courage to live in liberty today, to live as God intended, so I offer a new motto, in the spirit of ’76: ”Be brave. Live free.” This is the essence of Texanness and Americanness.
1 Journals of the Continental Congress, vol. 5, 425, quoted in The Spirit of Seventy-Six: The Story of the American Revolution as Told by Its Participants, ed. Henry Steele Commager and Richard B. Morris (New York: Castle Books, 2002), 302.
2 John Witherspoon, quoted in Denise Kiernan and Joseph D’Agnese, Signing Their Lives Away: The Fame and Misfortune of the Men Who Signed The Declaration of Independence (Philadelphia: Quirk Books, 2009), 99.
3 Kiernan and D’Agnese, Signing Their Lives Away, 47, 128.
4 Walter Isaacson, Benjamin Franklin: An American Life (New York: Simon & Shuster, 2003), 313.
5 Kiernan and D’Agnese, Signing Their Lives Away, 172.
6 Henning W. Prentis Jr., “Bulwarks of Freedom,” speech, Newcomen Society of England, October 4, 1946, Montreal, Canada.
7 Thucydides, The Peloponnesian War, 2.43.4, in The Landmark Thucydides: A Comprehensive Guide to The Peloponnesian War, ed. Robert B. Strassler (New York: Touchstone, 1998), 115.
Y’allogy is an 1836 percent purebred, open-range guide to the people, places, and past of the great Lone Star. We speak Texan here. Y’alloy is created by a living, breathing Texan—for Texans and lovers of Texas—and is free of charge. I’d be grateful, however, if you’d consider riding for the brand as a paid subscriber and/or purchasing my novel.
Proudly a descendant of pioneers on this continent. We can only trace the line back to woods of South Carolina in the mid seventeen hundreds. The Lord only knows how long before that the family landed here or where. Maybe we sprouted up. I'll use my teeth to defend this nation if it comes to it. Keep this nation as established and intended so that liberty may not perish from the Earth. Happy trails fellow Texans!
Well written, Derrick. The truth always is well written. - Jim