The Declaration and Resolves of the First Continental Congress was adopted on October 14, 1774. It’s important for all sorts of good reasons. The representatives of the colonies—except distant Georgia—came together for the first time to endorse a joint action. They invoked natural law to justify their rights as well as their rights as Englishmen—“the immutable laws of nature, the principles of the English Constitution”—and that was a revolutionary step, intellectually as well as politically. The Declaration articulated all the colonies’ joint grievances and joint claims to liberty and representative self-government and foreshadowed all such American claims to come for the next generation. And its call to action was non-revolutionary:
To these grevious Acts and measures Americans cannot submit, but in hopes that their fellow-subjects in Great Britain will, on a revision of them, restore us to that state in which both countries found happiness and prosperity, we have for the present only resolved to pursue the following peaceable measures: 1. To enter into a Non-Importation, Non-Consumption, and Non-Exportation Agreement or Association. 2. To prepare an Address to the People of Great Britain, and a Memorial to the Inhabitants of British America; and 3. To prepare a loyal Address to his Majesty, agreeable to Resolutions already entered into.
The crucial phrase, however, was we have for the present only. The Declaration of October 1774 put the British on notice: if they did not withdraw the Intolerable Acts, and generally treat the Americans as free and self-governing, then the Americans would not pursue their goals only by peaceable measures.
All this matters. But perhaps what matters more is that during the month the First Continental Congress considered the substance and the wording of the Declaration, members of the Congress from every colony but Georgia got to know George Washington.
Washington was one of the representatives from Virginia. The other delegates mostly knew of him, but vaguely, by second-hand report and the newspapers. He’d served as one of the relatively rare American officers in the French and Indian War—he’d done some blundering, but he’d also been brave, he’d learned something of the trade of war, and he was a good leader of soldiers. He’d married well and grown very rich as a planter after the war. He’d become increasingly notable as a radical the last few years—not as articulate as his friend George Mason, but stout in the cause. So, he had attended the First Virginia Convention earlier in the year, and they had selected him to attend the First Continental Congress.
There was a wild rumor in his favor! After hearing of the Coercive Acts, he’d said he would pay for and lead a thousand men to fight for liberty. Not so, in the sober light of day. But in the sober light of day, the members of Congress liked him. Tall, handsome, and with a soldier’s bearing, but not a Miles Gloriosus. He was dignified, but he was modest and friendly. Perhaps most importantly, he only spoke when he had something to say—and whatever he said was always sensible.
Americans were not as fond of gab then as they are now, but plenty liked to hear themselves talk more than they liked to think about what they had said. Patriot politicians included many talkers and many imprudent men—and even the Congress, one must confess, may have included some. The members of Congress valued a devoted and eminent Patriot of unfailing good sense who said only what needed to be said—a man, moreover, who had served bravely and capably in war. There was no one else like him in America.
The Declaration and Resolves mattered for many reasons. But perhaps what mattered most was that they were the occasion for George Washington to debut on the political stage for an audience of leading Patriots from all the colonies—save Georgia)—and to display his unique and excellent character.
The lesson for the present day—well, we should always be looking for George Washingtons to lead our cause. Perhaps the deeper lesson is that we should be aware that we ought to be looking for people who speak only when they have something to say, and who always speak sense. That’s a harder job in a world of 330 million Americans, where it’s difficult to get noticed if you don’t play the Miles Gloriosus. But America still has men of Washington’s stamp.
Our job now is to notice them when they speak, and to speak well of them in turn. When we need leaders, we will need Washingtons.
Art by Beck & Stone
This article was originally published at www.mindingthecampus.org
