National Treasure

I was six when I first saw the Declaration of Independence. There, in its old marble shrine in the Rotunda of the National Archives, it seemed as powerful to me as the Ten Commandments. Around me, people of all ages stood transfixed, straining to make out the faint words and signatures. Once I had stared in awe at the dim parchment, my parents took me to the gift shop and bought me an “antiqued” copy, printed on golden-brown, crinkly paper. I pinned it up on my bedroom wall and can still remember its sweet-sour aroma. When I looked up at it over the following years, it symbolized to me the basic ideals of America.

Though I didn’t understand it at the time, my encounter with the Declaration—one that tens of millions of people have shared—reflected its three lives: as America’s most revered relic, as a symbol of our most deeply held principles, and as an ever-present part of American culture. This book tells the story of how those three lives came together to create one nation.

The “official” engrossed parchment has survived two hundred and fifty years, overcoming neglect and abuse, heroically saved in times of war, and preserved by ingenious technology. Though it was nearly forgotten for a time when the Constitution seemed the more important founding document, for most of its existence it has been a priceless relic, protected by custodians, conservators, and armed guards. It has been displayed in bright sunlight and locked in dark cabinets, rescued from the flames, hidden in a cellar, carried in carts, moved secretly by train, and secured by the world’s most sophisticated security systems. The scroll is a time machine, drawing visitors in a never-ending stream to gaze in wonder at the very parchment touched and signed by the larger-than-life men who founded America.

The Declaration’s second life is as a noble ideal, making it the central expression of the American experience. This is the basis for Abraham Lincoln’s claim, at Gettysburg, that ours is a nation “conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.” Every major political program and piece of legislation, and so many of our most memorable speeches, refer to, build upon, or argue with the Declaration. It envisions a common destiny for the “one people” who chose to separate from the King of England and his Parliament. If the Constitution tells us how to live together as a political community, the Declaration tells us how we should want to live. How the Declaration came to be the supreme symbol of our national ideal is the story of America over two and a half centuries. These two lives are linked together by a third: the transformation of this statement of lofty principles into a central element of American culture. The story of this third life is largely untold, though in many ways it is the one that has brought the Declaration closest to Americans. The Declaration has inspired heroic paintings and mass advertising, as well as melodramatic movies and a high-minded musical. It has been commodified to sell posters, T-shirts, hats, and scarves. We have carried the Declaration into our homes, schools, and offices, hanging that crinkly fake parchment on our walls or displaying a commemorative plate or medallion. In 2025, a limited-edition printing of the Declaration on calfskin parchment was marketed for well over one thousand dollars. While writing this book, I visited the National Park Service’s Franklin Court Printing Office in Philadelphia and bought paper copies of the two earliest typeset Declarations fresh off a reproduction eighteenth-century printing press. The frames I bought to hang them in were more than ten times as expensive as the prints, but as Lincoln observed, what is inside the frame is worth its weight in gold. As an object and commodity, the Declaration has for over two centuries been part of our culture, linking us deliberately and tangibly to our founding moment.