Book Review: ‘National Treasure’ by Michael Auslin
by Mark Franke
With the semiquincentennial of the Declaration of Independence, there are a lot of new books written about this major event. Most focus on the Declaration’s language and its meaning, especially its most memorable sentence in the second paragraph.
One historian, Stanford’s Michael Auslin, has taken a refreshingly different approach by telling the story of the physical document throughout our history. And it is an intriguing story, one replete with disappearances, changes in storage locations and deterioration of the parchment due to improper display. His most interesting chapter, at least to me, was his detective work in determining which is the original copy as well as the controversy over which date is the most significant. More on that anon.
“National Treasure: How the Declaration of Independence Made America” (Simon & Schuster 2026, 275 pages plus notes, $29 hardcover at Amazon) traces the Declaration from its writing stage to the modern day, following the story through its location and physical condition across the centuries.
The first question Auslin addresses is the search for the true version of what Congress passed. The lack of clarity in which version was the officially approved one is complicated in that the congressional record for that critical week is loaded with other routine business.
The chronology is thought to be this: On June 21, Thomas Jefferson’s first attempt was sent to the five-man drafting committee. This Auslin calls the “rough draft.” Then on June 28 the committee sent the document to Congress with its edits of Jefferson’s draft, Auslin’s “fair copy.”
On July 2, Congress voted to declare independence and then began its committee-of-the-whole editing process. Eighty-six individual edits were made and the full document was reduced in length by one-quarter. Most of the edits were directed at Jefferson’s list of the king’s usurpations but a few were in his most quoted second paragraph, improving his language and directly invoking the Creator as the source of rights. One might imagine Jefferson’s resentment at these changes but then writers have always resented their editors.
On July 4, Congress adopted the Declaration almost unanimously; the New York delegation needed the approval of its state legislature, which came July 9.
Now here is where the uncertainty arises. The fair copy was altered by hand and no final copy was produced. Congressional secretary Charles Thompson did not insert a final version into his minutes of that day.
It is assumed that Jefferson walked the edited copy to a local printer, John Dunlap, who likely cut up the physical paper copy to distribute to his typesetters. Dunlap’s proof copy contained several errors that were corrected before the “final” or engrossed copy was printed for distribution on Aug. 2.
The iconic signing ceremony never happened like the painting suggests and certainly not on July 4. By the time the engrossed copy was received on Aug. 2, several of the delegates had returned home or to the army and could not sign that day. Eventually most of the delegates’ signatures were affixed.
One fascinating detail is the case of the errant “a.” In the second paragraph the document text as approved claimed the right of the people to “institute new Government.” The commissioned printer of the approved document, John Dunlap, apparently thought that the Congress meant to “institute a new Government” so inserted the indefinite article into the phrase, not appreciating the political storm this would produce among those who viewed each state as independent. An unnamed proofreader caught and removed the errant “a” and political harmony was preserved. The contentious issue would be resolved in 1787 at the Constitutional Convention in favor of a singular, unified government.
Why the poor historical record of this series of events with such historical impact? Auslin wonders if Congress considered the Declaration and its call to treason as routine by the July 4th vote or if its impact was already accepted as a fait accompli. He does report that there was significant and ultimately successful work behind the scenes to assure unanimity on independence, or at least near unanimity since John Dickenson and a few others thought it was too soon to take that step.
After the War for Independence, the engrossed Declaration document was moved continually and the outline of the book follows the Declaration document from one government department to another, most of which focused on preserving it as an archive rather than an exhibit for public display. There were frequent private viewings, each involving unrolling and rerolling the document with the risk of additional damage. When the document was displayed, the science of the time had no ability to control for sunlight exposure or humidity variance. What is amazing is that the actual document never incurred mold damage.
Several wars required that the Declaration, along with other historical documents, be relocated to safer surroundings. The first was during the War of 1812 when it was removed to a brick safe in the cellar at an abandoned Virginia mansion. (No, it was not Dolley Madison who scurried with it out of Washington just ahead of the British army. It was State Department clerk Stephen Pleasonton who is the hero of this story.) It was also removed to safer locations during the Civil War and World War II.
Auslin does not ignore how the Declaration has been used by political movements to support their cause. Most are aware of the abolitionists’ resorting to the Declaration’s language about all men being created equal in their bid to end slavery but the Confederate states also appealed to the Declaration to justify their secession under the “consent of the governed” principle. Which application of the Declaration’s language has precedence? It took a war to answer that question in favor of equality but the “consent of the governed” argument is being resurrected in our day.
Auslin does not lose sight of his focus. He traces the document across our nation’s entire history, both in terms of its location after each transfer and in terms of its physical condition given the handling and transporting. For those with more of a scientific bent than I, the details about the construction of the frame and the gas used inside its sealed box will appeal. Long story short, it didn’t help for the document to be stored subject to direct sunlight or with a lack of temperature and humidity control, but that was the level of environmental understanding in the past.
From being ignored to being stored to being displayed, it has survived wars, environmental challenges and, at times, neglect. Yet it survives and is now reverently displayed at the National Archives building where I had the privilege of seeing it several years ago when I was attending an American Legion national conference.
In the final analysis it is the words of the document that matter and the eternal principles they describe. Yet the physical document is a true relic of our republic, a visual reminder of what July 4 is all about. Auslin’s book is aptly named.
Mark Franke, M.B.A., an adjunct scholar of the Indiana Policy Review and its book reviewer, is formerly an associate vice-chancellor at Indiana University-Purdue University Fort Wayne.
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