The parchment version of the Declaration of Independence, handwritten and boldly signed, draws thousands of tourists each year to the National Archives in Washington. And rightly so. It is the official engrossed document that declared to the world that we were a free and independent people.
But look, if you have a chance, at the seemingly humble version of the Declaration that rests in a frame at the back of the entrance gallery of the Yorktown Victory Center. This is actually an earlier expression of our liberty, a media version, if you will, that spread the news among the people.
I didn’t realize this until last week when I went to look at what they call a broadside copy of the famous document, recently obtained by the Jamestown-Yorktown Foundation with the help of anonymous donors. There are a couple of other acquisitions, a French terracotta plaque of Benjamin Franklin, in fur cap, and a 1784 portrait of rosy cheeked Louis XVI whom Franklin persuaded to join the American cause.
But the riveting attraction, as we prepare to celebrate the 228th anniversary of the British surrender at Yorktown, is this “Declaration by the Representatives of the United States of America, in Congress Assembled.” It is printed in two columns on laid paper that is watermarked, with fine lines running across the grain. It’s slightly mottled, as you might expect, but remarkably well-preserved for a paper document that’s two-plus centuries old.
It was printed in Boston on about July 18, 1776, pretty fast when you consider how news was spread at the time, and way ahead of the official Declaration.
Here’s the sequence of events, if I’ve got this all right:
The delegates to the Second Continental Congress, meeting in Philadelphia, declare independence on July 2, 1776 and, two days later, approve the formal Declaration. That evening, a Philadelphia printer publishes dozens of copies and the next day these are rushed by currier to the legislatures of the 13 states.
Several newspapers reprint the Declaration and at the same time publish broadside (single-sided) copies that are posted throughout their cities. It is not until August 2 that the delegates in Philadelphia sign the handwritten version, pledging – no doubt with hearts in their throats – their lives, fortunes and sacred honor.
But by this time it is old news. General Washington has already had the document read before his army in New York. Large contingents of British troops are arriving to put down the rebellion. Colonists in every town in America have read, reread and debated just about every line of the provocative statement.
Its contents, denouncing the King of England and severing the bonds with the mother country, are inflammatory.
“It’s a lightning rod,” says senior curator Sarah Meschutt as we stand in the subdued lighting that shrouds the gold-framed document. “It was a voyage to an undiscovered country. It was tantamount to treason.”
OK, there’s the official Declaration of Independence in the nation’s capital. Only the signers, and a few others who witnessed the signing, saw it then. These copies were what We the People saw. And fled the country, or trembled and stayed.
The first definition of broadside is a sizeable sheet of paper printed on one side. But in revolutionary terms, it has another meaning that is equivalent to a warship presenting all of its guns on one side to an adversary and opening fire.
Illustration: Broadside copy of the Declaration of Independence on view at the Yorktown Victory Center. The Jamestown-Yorktown Foundation.
