We Mutually Pledge
by Paul Harvey
“From the American Declaration of Independence, July 4, 1776:
‘for the support of this Declaration, with firm reliance on the protection of
Divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes,
and our Sacred Honor.’
While you may recognize those impressive words, you may not
fully understand or appreciate them until you know the whole story.
In the Pennsylvania State House (today known as Independence
Hall in Philadelphia), the best men from each of the 13 colonies sat down
together one hot summer. It was a
fortunate hour in our nation’s history, one of those rare occasions in the
lives of men when we had greatness to spare.
These were men of means and well-educated: twenty-four were
lawyers and jurists, while nine were farmers and owners of large plantations.
They were men who knew that King George III had denounced all
rebels in America as traitors. They knew
the punishment for treason was hanging.
They were acutely aware of the enormous change they were talking; in fact, the names now so familiar from the
several signatures on the Declaration were initially kept a secret for six
months. Each man knew the full meaning
of that magnificent last paragraph in which his signature pledged his life, his
fortune, and his sacred honor.
Fifty-six men placed their names beneath that pledge. Fifty-six men knew, when they signed, that
they were risking everything. All other
revolutions, before or since, were initiated by those with nothing to lose; but
these men had everything to lose, and only one thing to gain—freedom.
They knew that if they won the fight, the best they could expect
would be years of hardship in a struggling new nation… If they lost, they would
face the hangman’s rope. But they signed
the pledge, anyway. And they did,
indeed, pay the price.
Here is the documented fate of a few of those gallant men:
Carter Braxton, of Virginia, a wealthy planter and trader, saw his ships swept
from the seas. To pay his debts, he lost
his home and properties and subsequently died in rags.
Thomas Lynch, Jr., a third-generation aristocrat and large plantation owner, fell
ill after signing the pledge. With his
wife, he set out for France to regain his failing health. Their ship never reached its destination and
they were never heard from again.
Thomas McKean, of Delaware, was so harassed by the enemy that he was forced
to move his family five times in as many months. He served in Congress without pay, his family
living in poverty and in hiding.
Wartime vandals looted the properties of Declaration signers Ellery, Clymer, Hall, Gwinnet, Walton,
Heyward, Rutledge and Middleton.
Thomas Nelson, Jr. a Virginian, raised $2 million on his own signature to provision
our Revolutionary allies (the French fleet).
After the war, he personally paid back all the loans, wiping out his
entire estate. The new United States
government never reimbursed him. In the
Battle for Yorktown, Nelson urged the burning of his own home (then occupied by
Cornwallis); accordingly, General
Washington ordered the Nelson home destroyed.
Thomas Nelson, Jr. later died bankrupt, having pledged his life, his
fortune, and his sacred honor.
Hessian forces seized the home of Declaration signer Frances Hopkinson, of New Jersey.
Francis Lewis died in the wartime destruction of his home and property. His wife was imprisoned, and she died within
a few months.
Richard Stockton, who signed the Declaration, was captured and mistreated. His health was broken to the extent that he
died at the age of 51. His estate was
pillaged.
Thomas Heyward, Jr., was captured when Charleston fell.
John Hart signed in the fifth column of the Declaration, second name from
the bottom; his is hardly one of the more recognizable signatures on that
document, but he nevertheless paid a dear price. Hart was driven from his dying wife’s side,
as their 13 children fled for their lives.
His fields and gristmill were laid waste. For more than a year he led a fugitive’s
life, hiding in forests and caves. When
he returned home after the war, he found his wife long-dead, his children
long-gone, and his properties utterly destroyed – within a few weeks he died of
exhaustion and a broken heart.
Likewise, Lewis Morris
saw his land razed, his family scattered.
John Hancock history remembers best for that great, sweeping signature,
attesting to his vanity; yet, he lived up to his pledge as readily as the
others. One of the wealthiest men in New
England, he stood outside Boston on a terrible war-torn night and intoned,
‘Burn Boston, though it makes John Hancock a beggar, if the public good
requires it.’
Of the fifty-six Declaration pledges, few went unscathed for
very long; Five were captured by the
British and tortured before they died; twelve had their homes – from Rhode
Island to Charleston – sacked, looted, occupied by the enemy, or burned to the
ground; two lost their sons in the army; one had two sons captured; 9 of the 56
died from the hardships of war, or from its more merciful bullets.
Folks, I don’t know what impression you have had of those men
who gathered together during that hot Philadelphia summer, but I think it’s
important that we remember this about them:
These were not poor men or wild-eyed revolutionaries – they were men of
means, most of them rich, who enjoyed much ease and luxury in their lives
before the Revolution. They were not
hungry men – they were wealthy landowners, substantially secure in their
prosperity.
But they considered liberty (and they fully understood the
meaning of the word) to be so much more important than security, that they
pledged their lives, their fortunes and their sacred honors to see it made
manifest.
They fulfilled their pledge… They paid the price… and American
Freedom was born.”
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