ECHOES OF EXCEPTIONALISM: Thomas Nelson Jr. and the Cost of Liberty

While most Americans are familiar with the famous exploits of Samuel Adams, Benjamin Franklin, and Thomas Jefferson, those are only a few of the 56 names that adorn the Declaration of Independence. That world-changing list of signatures includes plenty of other individuals whose exploits are lesser known but are nonetheless more than worthy of commemorating as our nation approaches the 250th anniversary of the signing of that document.

One such patriot was Thomas Nelson, Jr., a wealthy Virginia planter who risked life and limb and willingly sacrificed his fortune for independence. Nelson’s example embodied the spirit of the Declaration itself and indeed helped breathe life into its creed. The written word, if it is to have real power, must move men and women to action. Such action must be sacrificial for the words to resonate through generations, as principles do not preserve themselves. They must be carried by persons like Nelson willing to bear their weight.

Nelson was born into privilege on December 26, 1738, in Yorktown, Virginia. He was shipped to England for schooling at Eton and Christ’s College, Cambridge, before returning to Virginia in 1761 and winning election to the Virginia House of Burgesses while still aboard the ship bringing him home.

In that service, Nelson saw the need to sever ties with the crown. He carried Virginia’s instructions for independence to the Continental Congress and signed the Declaration of Independence in August 1776.

Throughout the war that followed, Nelson was one of Virginia’s most tireless patriots. He recruited troops, secured supplies, and personally financed the Commonwealth’s military needs when the treasury ran dry. When the British invaded Virginia in 1781, Nelson was elected governor by the General Assembly, succeeding Thomas Jefferson, and was given extraordinary powers to lead the defense of the colony.

As governor, Nelson continued spending his wealth, pouring his fortune into the cause, signing notes that the state could not repay, and underwriting the very army that would later march to Yorktown, his birthplace. Nelson commanded militias, coordinated with Washington, and rallied Virginians when the British forces swept through the tidewater.

It was there that Nelson’s sacred honor was tested in a way few men will ever face.

By the fall of 1781, the war had come to Nelson’s doorstep – literally. British forces under General Cornwallis fortified Yorktown, turning the quiet town of Nelson’s birth into the final battleground of the Revolution. As both Governor of Virginia and a brigadier general of the militia, Nelson joined Washington and Rochambeau in directing the siege. He moved among the artillery batteries, rallied exhausted troops, and urged the allied commanders to press the attack even as British fire rained down.

During the siege, British officers seized Nelson’s family home, using it as their headquarters. The two-story Georgian brick mansion was built in 1730 by Thomas “Scotch Tom” Nelson on Main Street. At the time of the siege, it was Governor Nelson’s home by inheritance.

Pointing to his home, then occupied by British officers, Nelson reportedly told the allied gunners, “There are the enemy’s headquarters. Fire on them!” The French guns exploded in flame, launching 12-pound balls at 300-400 feet per second at Nelson’s home. You can still view the damage today if visiting Yorktown.

The Allied bombardment did not cease. French and American guns hammered the British positions with unrelenting precision, collapsing their earthworks and silencing their artillery. The same fire that struck Nelson’s home broke the back of Cornwallis’s defenses. By October 17, the British lines were shattered, their troops exhausted, and their commander forced to seek terms. The siege had ended, and with it the long struggle for American independence.

The end of the war also marked the beginning of Nelson’s decline. He had poured his fortune into the Revolution. Nelson carried Virginia’s debts on his shoulders. The Commonwealth never repaid him.

Nelson’s health failed under the strain of illness and financial collapse. Creditors pressed him for debts he had incurred not for personal gain but for the survival of the Republic. He resigned the governorship, returned home in a weakened condition, and died in 1789 at the age of fifty, nearly penniless.

Yet, nearing death, when Nelson was asked about his sacrifice, his answer was strong and certain: “I would do it all again.” Those words should still send goosebumps down the spine of every patriotic American.

We remember Nelson today not for what he lost, but for what he secured: a free nation and a heritage of liberty that continues to inspire the world. And this remembrance must be expressed in more than our words, or parades, or celebrations – it must also be reflected in the character of our daily lives, in the choices we make, and in the responsibilities we willingly bear. Only then will the liberty purchased by Nelson endure for the generations yet to come.

Our founders knew this truth as they pressed pen to parchment 250 years ago. The Declaration of Independence, after all, was a Declaration. It was nailed to lampposts and shouted from newspaper headlines. It was a challenge issued to the world’s greatest military power by a collection of rowdy subjects residing in the colonies. The great risk ahead was summed in the wit of Ben Franklin, who, when signing the Declaration, remarked, “We must all hang together, or most assuredly we shall hang separately.”

Franklin was not joking. His statement was recognition that liberty survives only when free people bind themselves to one another in responsibility and sacrifice. In recognition of this, the Declaration does not end with a statement of theory but with a pledge: “to this, we mutually pledge our Lives, our Fortunes, and our sacred Honor.”

Consider for a moment these sacrifices, because they are what reveal the truly unique and exceptional character of the American struggle for independence. Throughout history, revolutions have most often been fought and led by men hoping to increase their wealth or social standing. But the men who signed the Declaration understood that they were likely sacrificing material wealth – and indeed their very lives – for a higher cause.

What could drive these heroes to so enthusiastically make this sacrifice? The answer is in the third thing they pledged: “our sacred Honor.” The Founders did not sanctify their lives or their fortunes. Rather, they sanctified their honor – the one possession that cannot be seized, only surrendered. Surrendering his honor is something the wartime Virginia Governor refused to do, even as his worldly possessions and then his life slipped away from him.

Nelson’s powerful example carries the same weight today as it did a quarter millennia ago. May we all endeavor to live with the same conviction to the cause of liberty.

Phill Kline is a former state legislator and the former Attorney General of Kansas. He is currently a law professor.