And so he was continually on the go between his uncle’s big house on the Water Street, the room of the Committee of Inspection on Second Street, the parade-ground of the “Quaker Blues� on the city common, and the big brick State House on Chestnut Street.
For young Joe Nixon was a privileged character and duly felt his importance. His uncle, Mr. John Nixon, was a member of the Committee of Safety, and better still, young Joe was a particular favorite of Mr. David Rittenhouse who “had charge of the public clock in the State House Square.� This put him on good terms with a still more influential acquaintance—the doorkeeper of the Continental Congress, then in daily session in the Assembly chamber of the State House.
Young Joe was a quick-witted lad and like all the rest of the race of boys dearly loved to watch and listen even though he could not always understand. Seated by the side of his friend the doorkeeper, he found it very interesting and sometimes highly exciting to follow the proceedings of the bewigged and earnest gentlemen who were talking, discussing, and sometimes getting quite angry with one another on the floor of the Congress. Joe only knew in a general sort of way what all this talk and discussion meant. But one thing he was certain of, as were all the boys and girls in the colonies—and that was that there was a “jolly row� on hand between the colonies and the King. He knew, too, that, away off toward Boston-town there had been two or three fights with the King’s soldiers, in which the troops of the colonies by no means had the worst of it. And he knew, most of all, that it was mightily hard just now for a boy to get hold of anything new or nice to eat or to wear or to play with and that, somehow, this was all the fault of King George the Third, and that the colonies did not propose to stand this sort of thing any longer.
So he had made the most of his acquaintance with the doorkeeper of the Congress and had witnessed most of the important events that had taken place during that lovely Philadelphia June.
He had looked with all the awe of a small boy of twelve upon the fifty or more gentlemen—the delegates to the Congress—who, representing the thirteen colonies, were ranged in a half-circle on either side of Mr. Hancock, the President. But I think he admired, even more, the “elegant standard, suspended in the Congress Room,� over the door of entrance at which he sat with his friend the doorkeeper, and which was “a yellow flag with a lively representation of a rattlesnake in the middle in the attitude of going to strike, and these words underneath: ‘Don’t tread on me!’�
He had been in the Congress Room so often that he knew most of the delegates by sight and name: that gentleman in the big chair behind the heavy mahogany table and the great silver inkstand—the gentleman with the scarlet coat and the black velvet breeches—was Mr. John Hancock, the President of the Congress—“Rosy John,� the Tory boys called him, much to young Joe’s ireful indignation; that gentleman in the long-waisted white cloth coat, scarlet vest and breeches, and white silk hose, was Mr. Jefferson of Virginia; that gentleman in the long buff coat and embroidered silk vest was, as of course every Philadelphia boy knew, the great Doctor Franklin; and there, too, were Mr. Adams and Mr. Gerry of Massachusetts, Mr. Sherman of Connecticut, Mr. Clinton of New York, Mr. Stockton of New Jersey, Mr. Carroll of Maryland, Mr. Lee of Virginia, Mr. Rutledge of South Carolina, and many others whose faces and whose voices had now grown familiar. Even his boyish mind, thoughtless of the present and careless of the future though it was, had felt the excitement of the moment when on Friday, June 7th, Mr. Richard Henry Lee of the Virginia colony had risen in his place and, “amidst breathless silence,� had read to the Congress this notable resolution:
“Resolved, that these United Colonies are, and of right ought to be, free and independent States, that they are absolved from all allegiance to the British Crown, and that all political connection between them and the State of Great Britain is, and ought to be, totally dissolved.�
Then Mr. John Adams of Massachusetts seconded the resolution, Mr. Thomson, the secretary, made the official entry in the Journal, the Congress, with but few words, postponed its consideration until the next day, and young Joe Nixon adjourned with the delegates, like them, half-dazed and half-jubilant.
So, through the long June days, the Congress argued and debated and hesitated while young Joe Nixon—a true type of the restless Young America that is ever in a hurry for action and results—watched and wished and wondered, not thinking of what might be in the future save that King George was to be thrown overboard and the colonies were to set up for a Nation.
At last, on June 28th, a committee, consisting of Mr. Jefferson of Virginia, Mr. Adams of Massachusetts, Doctor Franklin of Pennsylvania, Mr. Sherman of Connecticut, and Mr. Livingston of New York, presented to the Congress a long paper which young Joe understood was called a Declaration of Independence. And although he thought it was splendid and full of the most mightily strong blows against King George, much to the lad’s disgust the Congress did not seem to go into ecstasies over it, but hummed and hawed and deliberated until July 2d, when Mr. Lee’s original resolution was put to vote, carried by the voice of every colony except New York, and the United Colonies were declared to be Free and Independent States.