Prudence Before War
On April 12, 1776
“The Halifax Resolves!” An immodest title for such a modest document—they say so little, it seems almost impolite to say much about them.
The Resolves form part of the minutes of North Carolina’s Fourth Provincial Congress, meeting at Halifax on April 12, 1776. Earlier in the day, the Congress agreed to purchase various goods and sundries, including 500 pounds of gunpowder. Afterwards, it considered the appointment of military officers.
In between these administrative matters, the Provincial Congressmen received a report from a “select committee” on the “usurpations and violences” committed by the King and Parliament against America. Despite the colonists’ “moderation” and desire to reconcile with Britain, these usurpations have included the destruction of people and property, the seizure of American ships, and the declaration by cynical British royal governors to protect slaves “who should imbrue their hands in the blood of their [American] masters.” In response, the Provincial Congress resolved that their delegates to the Continental Congress in Philadelphia should be empowered to “concur with the delegates of the other Colonies in declaring Independency”—while reserving to North Carolina “the sole and exclusive right of forming a Constitution and laws” for itself.
Such—in seven sentences over two paragraphs—was the first declaration of independence of an American colony. It is a resolution, to be sure, but a conditional one. No fiery rhetoric. No leap back to the state of nature or original position or state of exception. It is a pragmatic, prudent resolve. There’s something impressive about this characteristically American ability to take care of business while seated on a powder keg.
One can piece together from contemporary records who was present at the Provincial Congress at Halifax on April 12, 1776. But since the resolution was passed with a unanimous vote, we have no records of debate. The “select committee” that prepared the resolution kept no minutes. No separate document was printed up for public consumption, no signatures attached. For good reason, as we shall see.
The importance of the Halifax Resolves, then, appears to lie not in words but in the deed: Independence! This modest paragraph says to the mother country, in effect, “We are no more. You are English, We are Americans (or even North Carolinians).” One witnesses here the birth of a sort of nation, the prelude to the births of many nations, and eventually one.
Can Americans even come close to imagining such a deed today? Even those who claim to “hate” the government—meaning the cabal that exploits our nation and its people—would they revolt? Declare Independence. Seize property. Seize rule. Take lives. Give their lives. If not, then we are not the same as these colonists of North Carolina.
(As an aside, thanks to technology, some “anons” may think that today it is safer to conspire, say, in 1776. Not so. Any sort of “dissident group” probably contains more “members” from law enforcement than concerned citizens. Your “digital footprint” is much easier to track than physical ones, which come and go. The internet is forever. And now artificial intelligence can, and will, search and analyze your digital profile six ways to Sunday. There’s so much data—that was the problem for surveillance. That problem is now solved. We are not the same as those Revolutionaries of 1776, and neither are the times.)
But back to Halifax: the Resolves did not appear ex nihilo. North Carolina counties started to set up Committees of Safety and adopt local “resolves” from Summer 1774 onward. For example, the Rowan County “Proceedings of the Freeholders” of August 8, 1774, while still professing loyalty to the King, asserted colonial rights. In March 1775, the Wilmington and New Hanover Committee of Safety—under the chairmanship of Cornelius Hartnett—started recording its minutes to plan enforcement of colonial rights against the British. In May 1775, citizens of Charlotte adopted the Mecklenburg Resolves, protesting British abuse of the colony, while in June the Cumberland Association circulated the “Liberty Point Resolves,” and in August the Western settlers adopted the Tryon Resolves pledging resistance to the British. Provincial Congresses met in August 1774, April 1775, August 1775, and April 1776. Once the North Carolinian patriots achieved victory over the British and loyalists at Moore’s Creek Bridge on February 27, 1776, the Provincial Congress’s select committee—under the chairmanship, once again, of Hartnett—began its work on the Resolves to be adopted at Halifax.
Truly, the American Revolution was a heyday for Committees! In peace, in war, in peace leading to war. Committee after committee—but they were effective. Today, it’s a different story: the Committee is typically a tool to stifle dissent.
At this point, the mind naturally seeks for names and persons to hold onto. Who manned these Committees? Who wrote these Resolves? It seems likely that Cornelius Hartnett was one of, if not the leader of the party for Independence. A merchant and planter from Wilmington, he emerged in the early 1770s as a leading organizer of resistance to British authority. After the adoption of the Halifax Resolves, he served as president of the North Carolina Provincial Council, the colony’s interim government.
Later in the war, when the British occupied Wilmington in early 1781, patriot leaders in the surrounding countryside were targeted for arrest. Harnett attempted to avoid capture but fell ill while hiding, allowing the British to catch him. He was confined to a prison hulk on the Cape Fear River. Cold weather, exposure, and lack of care aggravated his fever, and he died in captivity on April 20, 1781. At least, from the perspective of history, Hartnett had the noble fortune to die a prisoner of war rather than a mere invalid.
If the British had had Bad-Guy Kill Cards, like our own then-Department of Defense during the Iraq War, no doubt Cornelius Hartnett would have appeared on one, with a big X on it. But the 18th-century British were grown-ups.
North Carolina in 1776 was no paragon of democracy. Most obviously, there were around 80,000 people enslaved in the Province, more than one-quarter of the total population. There were the class distinctions and conflicts typical of 18th-century society. The colony had even—just five years before—fought a civil war of sorts, the “Regulator War,” between the Eastern establishment and Western settlers of the Province. No, it was no paragon.
And yet, the citizens of this emerging state knew that they had to think for themselves and act together. As a result, North Carolina was the first colony to declare for Independence, if conditionally. It was a southern state leading the way in the nation’s cause, while also keeping a jealous eye on its own Constitution. And it faced the timeless challenge facing noble men: History is, almost always, written by the writers, not doers.
Unlike today, when America declares war, or, rather, inflicts war, without no public debate, these were men who declared independence before declaring war. They were not perfect, but they were civilized: they did not just lash out upon this or that pretext. Thought precedes action, and action demands thought. That is why we continue to celebrate even these laconic Resolves. In the speech is the thought. There’s something prudent about the Halifax Resolves—and also truly daring. It’s a rare combination in politics and in life.
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