Signing Their Rights Away (30 page)

Rutledge was born in Charleston to an Irish immigrant and a well-established doctor. His mother, only fifteen years old when she married, was reputedly the wealthiest heiress in the colony. Rutledge’s early life was spent with tutors and at the library. He lost his father when he was only eleven and began spending time at his uncle Andrew’s law office, studying what would become his life’s work. His uncle was also speaker of the lower house of the South Carolina legislature, which gave Rutledge the chance to observe his second calling: politics. He would watch the debates whenever he could. Later, Rutledge studied law at the prestigious Middle Temple in London. On his return to Charleston, he learned that his uncle had died and his mother needed help managing the estate. He took primary responsibility for the education of his younger brothers, Edward and Hugh, and funded the completion of their studies in England.

In 1761, at only twenty-one years old, Rutledge became a member of the South Carolina legislature. His reputation as a lawyer had already begun to take hold, with rumors of his winning streaks in court growing like the size of a wide-mouthed bass after a long, drunken fishing trip. He married Elizabeth Grimké, a planter’s daughter, in 1763, and the pair ultimately had ten children (the last of whom was named after a political-geographical designation). At the tender age of twenty-five, he was appointed the state’s attorney general.

On the national stage, Rutledge’s first gig was the Stamp Act Congress, in 1765, in New York, where representatives gathered to decide how to respond to the paper-and-documents tax imposed on them. Rutledge made an impression as the youngest attendee. When South Carolina’s royal governor dismissed the legislature in 1774, Rutledge and others formed the Committee of Public Safety, a rebel watchdog group, and met in alternate locations.

That same year, Rutledge was head of the delegation to the first Continental Congress. John Adams had already taken note of him, writing, “John Rutledge still maintains that air of reserve, design, and cunning.” Adams credited Rutledge with helping to unify the otherwise disparate views of the delegates.

When Rutledge returned to the Second Continental Congress, he served on a number of committees; but as time wore on, he saw that the situation between the loyalists and the patriots in South Carolina was worsening. He returned to Charleston. Meanwhile, his younger brother Edward went on to sign the Declaration of Independence.

Back in Charleston, Rutledge chaired the committee that drafted South Carolina’s constitution, which he also helped to write. The legislature also elected him as the first president of the lower house of the assembly and commander of the state’s military. Though Rutledge was a moderate who believed in peacefully solving problems with those across the pond, if possible, he was always prepared to take things to the next level. That moment came in 1776, as British troops parked themselves off Sullivan’s Island, just outside Charleston, and were ready to fire on a fort under the command of Colonel William Moultrie. Washington’s own commander, Major General Charles Lee, thought Moultrie and the others should evacuate. Rutledge, the supposed moderate, disagreed. He reminded Moultrie that he, Rutledge, was the only one who could draft the order to evacuate, adding, “I would sooner cut off my hand than write one.” As it turned out, the bombing by the British was ineffectual against the palmetto logs used to build the fort. Moreover, American sharpshooters fared well against the sitting ducks offshore, fatally wounding Lord William Campbell, whom the British intended to put back in charge as royal governor. The fleet tucked tail and left. The Sabal palmetto—a hero of the encounter—remains the state tree of South Carolina and is prominently featured on its flag.

Though he had run-ins with political opponents, Rutledge was elected the first governor of South Carolina and exercised such free reign that some referred to him as “Dictator John.” Dictator or no,
his primary concern was recruiting militia and otherwise prepping Charleston for the coming Redcoat onslaught. When the city finally fell to the British in 1780, his estate was seized and Rutledge escaped to North Carolina, thus avoiding capture. As a man with money, property in town, and plantations, he had much to lose. His public duties were costing him a lot, and there was little income when he had no time to practice law.

Rutledge retired as governor in 1782, and his brother-in-law John Matthews took over. In 1782 and ’83, Rutledge served as a congressional delegate, this time to the Congress of the Confederation, and in 1784 he was judge of the chancery court in South Carolina, a position he held for seven years. He liked seeing cases resolved speedily, saying, “Delayed justice is injustice.” Unlike his brother Edward, he was not a man about town, flitting around Charleston’s buzzing social scene, but was well regarded on the national level as a man of integrity.

In 1787, Rutledge was off to Philadelphia for the Constitutional Convention. His reputation as a barrister and governor preceded him, and he arrived as a major player (he seconded the nomination of Washington as president). He spoke often and convincingly—and not infrequently in defense of the slave trade; he is at least partly responsible for keeping any prohibitive language regarding slavery out of the Constitution. He chaired the five-person Committee of Detail, responsible for drafting the Constitution, and is considered a major contributor to the document.

Rutledge was in favor of wealth-based representation, wanted the sessions to be kept secret until their conclusion, and understood the meaning of the word
compromise
, though he may not have always been happy with the outcome: “Is it not better that I should sacrifice one prized opinion than that all of us should sacrifice everything we might otherwise gain?” After signing the Constitution, he returned to South Carolina to lobby for ratification; the vote passed with a healthy margin of 149 to 73, making his state the eighth to endorse the document.

When John Jay, chief justice of the U.S. Supreme Court, retired
in 1795, Rutledge was quick to let Washington know that he wanted the job, and Washington was quick to appoint him. Congress wasn’t in session to approve him, so he served in the interim. Then things went strangely awry. Rutledge made the mistake of criticizing the controversial Jay Treaty, a postwar agreement between the United States and Britain; many shared Rutledge’s belief that the treaty was far too easy on the British. But given that his predecessor had negotiated the accord (and Washington had approved it), you’d think Rutledge would’ve been smart enough to keep his views to himself. He didn’t, and his confirmation by Congress was not to be.

Toward the end of his life, Rutledge again served in the South Carolina legislature, but he was tragically deteriorating, both physically and mentally. His behavior became erratic, bizarre, and at times deranged. He twice attempted to drown himself. The second time, he waded fully clothed into Charleston’s Ashley River, resisting and verbally abusing the men who came to his aid. Several factors contributed to his decline: the deaths of his wife and his younger brother Edward, a kidney ailment, and his inability to get his finances back on track. Creditors were closing in for the kill. The loss of love, money, health, and, arguably, position was a surefire recipe for a bad bout of depression.

Rutledge died at age sixty-one and is buried in St. Michael’s Church in Charleston, the same churchyard that is the final resting place of his fellow signer Charles Cotesworth Pinckney. Today, you can visit his house and even spend the night there, amid the soaring palmetto trees and mint juleps. It is a lavishly ornate bed-and-breakfast in the historic district of Charleston.

The Signer Who Wouldn’t Bribe the French

BORN
: February 25, 1746

DIED
: August 16, 1825

AGE AT SIGNING
: 41

PROFESSION
: Lawyer, planter

BURIED
: St. Michael’s Church Cemetery, Charleston, South Carolina

Ah, the French. America’s relationship with the Gauls is a long, storied, and often contrary love affair. When France helped the colonies trounce the Crown, it appeared that
la vie
would be all
en rose
between the two nations. But after only a decade or so, the two countries were bickering, and war seemed imminent. Charles Cotesworth Pinckney earned a spot in the history books for escalating rather than defusing the tensions. In one notable encounter, he told the French to stick it.

Pinckney was the son of an extraordinary woman who single-handedly introduced to the colonies a miracle crop—indigo—that would eventually account for one-third of South Carolina’s exports. This ancient plant produced a rich blue dye prized by textile manufacturers since antiquity. Once Pickney’s mother shared its secrets
with her planter neighbors, South Carolina was well on its way to one day becoming the wealthiest state in the union.

When Pinckney was only seven years old, his father (a judge) was assigned to serve as South Carolina’s agent, or nonvoting representative, in Great Britain. Dad took the family to live with him in London. Though his parents returned home five years later, Charles Cotesworth stayed behind to study law at Oxford and Middle Temple. He finished with a tour of Germany and a stint at a French military school and then returned home to South Carolina to work for his colony’s royal attorney general. And he married Sarah Middleton, whose father was the wealthiest planter in the colony.

South Carolina was one of the first colonies to declare itself independent from Mother England. Pinckney, who had already participated in patriotic assemblies, became a captain in the first South Carolina regiment. He defended his beloved city from a sea attack by the British in 1775, fought at Germantown and Brandywine in Pennsylvania, and led troops in a losing battle against British forces in Florida. When the Redcoats besieged Charleston in 1780, Pinckney was among the soldiers captured. Unlike his brothers-in-law (and Declaration of Independence signers) Edward Rutledge and Arthur Middleton, who were shipped off to serve time in St. Augustine, Florida, Pinckney was imprisoned just outside Charleston. When he fell ill, British officers allowed him to return home to recuperate as long as he (a) agreed not to take up arms and (b) remained confined to his property. Pinckney arrived home to learn two things: his only son had just died, and his parole had been revoked. Grieving and ill, he returned to prison until his release in February 1782. His wife, who was not yet thirty years old, died in 1784.