Editing the Declaration of Independence

WHEN JOHN ADAMS AND BENJAMIN FRANKLIN bullied young Thomas Jefferson into writing the Declaration of Independence, they listed three requisites: the document must clearly state their intentions, must enumerate the reasons for their intentions, which were widely known, and must indicate in no uncertain terms that they were quite unanimous and dead serious about it. When dreamy Tom balked, and asked why Adams didn't write the letter himself, Adams replied: "because you, young man, are ten times smarter than I, you write ten times better, and whereas I am obnoxious and unpopular, you are friendly, pleasant, and well liked." Any more questions? Evidently there were, and big Ben lost his patience. All six four two hundred and sixty pounds of him hovered over the six two and a half one hundred and sixty pound and utterly intimidated and horrified Virginian, and the seventy year old but yet quite strong Franklin spoke thusly: "young man, I assure you that you shall indeed do your duty for your country, without further complaint or argument." That sealed it. Get to it. Jefferson's document was heavily edited by his fellow committee members ("sacred and undeniable truths", for instance, became "self evident truths", because Franklin wanted the script to read like a scientific treatise, not a religious polemic) - which irked Jefferson, because he thought it already presentable, but together they got the job done. Among their enumerated complaints were that the King had summoned assemblies at unusual times and inconveniently far away places, had quartered soldiers in private homes, had exacted punitive taxation, and had "eaten out the substance" of his own colonies, by various means, including failing to defend them against foreign invaders and "savages", and so forth. Certainly it was incumbent upon the British monarch to round up and send to reservations, from four thousand miles away, all native Americans. Why expect less? Also among the complaints was that, ironically, the king "..has waged cruel war against human nature itself, violating its most sacred rights of life and liberty in the persons of distant people who never offended him, captivating them and carrying them into slavery in another hemisphere, or to incur miserable death in the transportation thither." Yes, you read that correctly: Jefferson, the slave owner, was raising cane against poor old luckless King George III for allowing him and his friends to own slaves. How dare he! Without the King's highly immoral forbearance, Jefferson et al would never have fallen into ignominious perdition. The King has failed to make me and my comrades in rebellion men of high moral standards! (Can we say "passing the buck"?) Well, as you have probably by now deduced, that particular anti-slavery passage was promptly stricken from the final draft, not only because it somehow seemed a bit disingenuous to blame the current king for an evil over which he had little or no control, and which had been extant in America since 1619 Jamestown. But also, including a complaint by slave owners that they were unjustly permitted by their sovereign to keep slaves simply seemed a bit...strange? Inappropriate? dare one say "ludicrous and hypocritical"? Give our founders credit for at least one thing: tho' oft they might have gone off the intellectual deep end, at length, they regained their senses, and sent a letter to the king which, though a bit demanding, picky, and unfair to a relatively, compared to themselves, lenient overlord, they somehow managed to make it reasonably reasonable, and, as we say, the rest is history.