.png)
.webp)
"The Committee of Five were the most illustrious group of men ever assembled in America. They were all men of genius, and they were all dedicated to the cause of liberty."
—Benjamin Rush
In the hallowed annals of American history, few groups hold as profound a significance as the Committee of Five, the men responsible for drafting the Declaration of Independence.
These were not merely men, but titans—Jefferson, Franklin, Adams, Sherman, and Livingston—their names etched indelibly into the bedrock of our nation.
Yet, behind the celebrated visage of unity, lie stories of individuality, rivalry, and controversy, as rich and complex as the nation they helped birth.
Imagine a room brimming with some of the brightest minds in the colonies, an assembly of intellect and eloquence.
Five men, chosen to draft a document that would echo through the centuries, a Declaration of Independence.
Yet, amidst this constellation of genius, it was a singular star, Thomas Jefferson, that blazed the brightest and etched the majority of the words that would indelibly define the American ethos.
This has often raised eyebrows and stirred the pot of controversy.
How, one might wonder, did one man come to hold the quill that drew the line between loyalty and liberty, when such eminent figures as Benjamin Franklin and John Adams shared the table?
Jefferson, indeed, was an accomplished writer and thinker, a master of language and law, but so too were his counterparts.
Franklin, already famous for his Poor Richard's Almanac and various other writings, was as comfortable with the quill as any man of his time.
Adams, a powerful orator and master of legal theory, was no less capable of crafting cogent and persuasive arguments.
Roger Sherman, though less known, was the only man to sign all four great state papers of the United States: the Continental Association, the Declaration of Independence, the Articles of Confederation, and the Constitution.
Robert Livingston, known as "The Chancellor", was a brilliant legal mind and diplomat.
Yet, it was Jefferson who was tasked with the drafting, at the behest of the committee.
Adams himself suggested Jefferson should write the draft, stating, "Reason first, You are a Virginian, and a Virginian ought to appear at the head of this business. Reason second, I am obnoxious, suspected, and unpopular. You are very much otherwise. Reason third, you can write ten times better than I can."
One of the five men entrusted with the task of drafting the Declaration of Independence, Robert Livingston took an unanticipated and, indeed, a historic stand.
He abstained from signing the document, believing it premature to sever ties with the British Crown.
Livingston, a New York delegate, carried a reputation as a man of both principle and pragmatism.
He was not opposed to the idea of independence, yet he believed that a more cautious, more deliberate approach was needed.
This decision, which has led historians to dub him "The Reluctant Patriot", might seem at odds with the prevailing narrative of unanimous revolutionary fervor. But history, like life, rarely unfolds in neat, undeviating lines.
It is, instead, a grand tapestry, woven of countless threads of individual conviction and courage.
Livingston's reluctance to sign the Declaration did not signify a lack of commitment to the American cause.
On the contrary, it underlines his profound engagement with the momentous issues of his time.
He would later serve as the Minister to France, and played a crucial role in the Louisiana Purchase.
The magnitude of the document may give the impression of a painstaking, laborious process spanning months, perhaps years.
Yet, in a testament to the extraordinary urgency and fervor of the times, Thomas Jefferson completed the first draft in a span of a mere few days, specifically between June 11 and June 28, 1776.
The task was Herculean, the circumstances pressing, and the stakes inestimably high. The air was thick with anticipation, and the specter of war loomed large.
It was a time of hushed whispers and impassioned debates, a time when the course of a nation was being charted in earnest, courageous strokes.
And yet, amidst the turmoil and tumult, Jefferson, with his prodigious talent for words, sat alone in a small rented room in Philadelphia, quill in hand. Over those tense days, he penned a declaration, a creed that would come to embody the American spirit.
His words, etched swiftly yet deliberately, spoke of unalienable rights and truths held to be self-evident.
His fervor matched the pace of his writing, each sentence a step further into uncharted territory.
The swiftness of this endeavor is nothing short of astonishing.
.webp)
The birth of the Declaration of Independence was as much an exercise in collaboration as it was a study in contrast, particularly when it came to the stylistic leanings of its chief architects—Thomas Jefferson and Benjamin Franklin.
The tale of their combined efforts to shape the document is a fascinating glimpse into the creative clash that ensued, a testament to the union of two distinct minds.
Jefferson, the Virginian, brought a certain ornate eloquence to his writing, a penchant for the grand and the elegant, the layered and the nuanced. His initial draft of the Declaration, while imbued with soaring language and a strong ideological tone, bore the unmistakable imprint of his stylistic preferences.
Enter Benjamin Franklin, the Pennsylvanian polymath, with a style as sharp and clear as the lenses of his bifocals.
Franklin, the seasoned editor and celebrated author, was known for his straightforward, no-nonsense approach to the written word. Wit was his weapon, brevity his ally. As such, he took Jefferson's grand draft and, with a discerning eye and a redactive hand, began to shape it.
The interplay between these two disparate styles led to inevitable disagreements over the document's tone and wording.
Yet it was in this crucible of creative conflict that the true essence of the Declaration was forged. Jefferson's lofty ideals met Franklin's terse pragmatism, and in the meeting of these minds, the voice of a nation emerged.
In one notable instance, Franklin changed Jefferson's original phrase "We hold these truths to be sacred and undeniable" to the more direct and now famous "We hold these truths to be self-evident".
This change shifted the emphasis from a religiously nuanced assertion to an objective, self-justifying claim, in essence making the argument more universally compelling.
At the heart of every historic document lies a tale of revision and compromise, of passionately held beliefs debated and negotiated in quiet rooms.
The Declaration of Independence is no exception to this rule.
One of the most contentious issues during its creation, and indeed one that continues to provoke controversy, was the inclusion and subsequent removal of a passage concerning slavery in Thomas Jefferson's original draft.
In Jefferson's initial version, he cast a stark light on the horrors of the slave trade, laying the blame at the feet of King George III.
He accused the monarch of waging a "cruel war against human nature itself," a daring and explicit condemnation of the institution of slavery.
This provocative stance was an effort to highlight the inhumanity of the trade and to place its moral cost squarely within the broader context of the colonial struggle for independence.
But, as the document passed through the hands of the Committee and onto the floor of the Congress, the pointed denunciation was excised.
It was a decision that was influenced by a complex web of economic, political, and social considerations, and a stark reminder of the contentious role that slavery played in the fabric of the emerging American nation.
The removal of this passage remains a subject of ongoing debate and reflection. Critics argue that it signaled an early unwillingness by the new nation to confront the moral crisis of slavery head-on.
Others suggest that the decision was a pragmatic one, made to maintain unity among the thirteen colonies, some of which had economies deeply entrenched in the slave trade.
The formation of the Committee of Five, as with many historical events, is a story interwoven with 'what-ifs' and roads not taken.
Interestingly, the esteemed group that ultimately took on the monumental task of drafting the Declaration of Independence was not the first choice.
In the early stages of deliberation, two towering figures of the Revolutionary era, George Washington and John Hancock, were considered for the assignment.
Washington, the esteemed Virginian and commander of the Continental Army, carried a reputation for his steadfast leadership and unwavering resolve.
His formidable military knowledge and experience, coupled with his personal commitment to the cause of independence, made him an apparent choice for such a pivotal task. However, the relentless demands of leading a fledgling army in the face of a formidable British force precluded his involvement in the drafting process.
Similarly, John Hancock, then President of the Second Continental Congress and a potent symbol of defiance to the Crown, was considered.
With his robust voice in the Congress and his dynamic leadership, Hancock would have been an influential member of such a committee. Yet, he too was engaged with critical responsibilities. His central role in directing the Congress during these crucial times made it impossible for him to devote his attention to the drafting process.
Thus, the task fell to Jefferson, Franklin, Adams, Sherman, and Livingston, a group that, though perhaps not the first choice, proved to be extraordinarily capable.
Their collective intellect, their varying perspectives, and their shared commitment to the cause of liberty resulted in a document of enduring significance and power.
.webp)
The journey through the corridors of history is often accompanied by a chorus of quotes, profound words attributed to influential figures that capture the essence of their times.
Among such quotations is one often linked to Benjamin Franklin and the signing of the Declaration of Independence—"We must all hang together, or assuredly we shall all hang separately."
An evocative phrase, it succinctly encapsulates the sense of solidarity and high stakes that characterized the birth of the new nation.
Yet, as it often happens in the intricate narrative of history, the authenticity of this famous quote is a subject of ongoing debate.
Despite its association with Franklin and the iconic moment of the Declaration's signing, the first recorded instance of this quote is found not in contemporaneous accounts, but in a book published many years later.
The line appears in "Life of Benjamin Franklin" by James Parton, published in 1864, nearly a century after the signing of the Declaration. While it is conceivable that the quote was part of oral tradition and subsequently captured by Parton, there is no direct evidence from Franklin's time to corroborate its authenticity.
Franklin's supposed quote may very well reflect the collective sentiment of the moment, its actual origin remains shrouded in historical uncertainty.
Few relationships are as intriguing, as complex, and as ultimately emblematic of the nation's formative years as the rivalry between John Adams and Thomas Jefferson.
Two of the most vibrant intellects of their era, their long, intricate connection began amid the heady days of the Revolution, within the very Committee of Five entrusted to craft the Declaration of Independence.
Adams, the Massachusetts lawyer and staunch advocate for independence, had a reputation for his fierce intellect and no-nonsense demeanor.
When the Committee was formed, many, including Adams himself, believed he would be the one to wield the pen. His contributions to the independence cause were undeniable, and his powerful voice had echoed through the halls of the Continental Congress.
Yet, it was the young Virginian, Thomas Jefferson, who was chosen to draft the document. Despite Adams' undeniable competence and passion, the decision was influenced by a variety of reasons—Jefferson's "peculiar felicity of expression," as Adams put it, his relative popularity in comparison to the often blunt and contentious Adams, and perhaps the desire for a southerner to be the document's primary author to unite the colonies geographically in the cause.
Adams was reportedly quite upset by this decision.
While he recognized Jefferson's abilities, he nonetheless felt slighted, an early spark in a rivalry that would shape both men's careers for decades to come.
The sense of professional competition, first kindled within the Committee, would later find its ultimate expression in the political arena when both men vied for the highest office in the land, the presidency.
In an eerie stroke of fate, both men, the second and third Presidents of the United States, departed this world on the same day: July 4th, 1826. The date marked exactly 50 years since the adoption of the Declaration of Independence, the very document that had ignited their longstanding professional rivalry and enduring connection.
The likelihood of such an occurrence is astronomically slim, an anomaly that appears to defy the usual probabilities of life. It adds a profound, somewhat mystical postscript to the lives of these two giants of the American founding era.
Adams and Jefferson had come to embody the spirit of the young republic, their lives intimately tied to the birth and growth of the nation.
Their death on the nation's fiftieth birthday, the 'Golden Jubilee' of American independence, was seen by many as a powerful symbol, a divine affirmation of their monumental contributions.
In the final hours of his life, unaware that his old friend and rival had predeceased him by a few hours, Adams's last recorded words were "Thomas Jefferson still survives." A mistaken, yet deeply moving testament to their intertwined destinies.
Following the momentous summer of 1776, the original draft of the Declaration, that monumental edict of liberty and self-determination, found itself nestled not within the secure confines of a vault or the ceremonious grandeur of a state archive, but rather within the modest, unassuming quarters of a linen closet.
A linen closet, with its stacks of neatly folded fabrics and hushed, subdued light, is hardly the place one might imagine for a document of such import. Yet, for several years after the adoption of the Declaration, this was indeed its reported resting place.
It is a fact that may elicit a chuckle or raise an eyebrow, yet it is also a testament to the times.
The fledgling nation was engaged in a brutal war, resources were scarce, and luxuries like secure document storage were likely not a priority amidst the fight for survival and freedom.
In retrospect, this humble storage paints a vivid picture of the Declaration not as a relic relegated to a pedestal, but as a working document, tangible and accessible, intimately interwoven into the fabric of everyday life. It was a reminder that the principles it espoused, those of liberty, equality, and self-governance, were not abstract ideals to be sequestered away, but living concepts to be actively pursued and implemented.
.png){kind=logo}
.webp)