The Desperate Ride of Caesar Rodney

On a black July night in 1776, a dust-caked messenger yanked his horse to a stop in front of a Delaware farmhouse. The messenger leaped from his mount, sprinted to the house, and pounded on the door. He had urgent news for the man inside.

Skeleton-thin and wearing a green veil to cover a tumor on his face, Caesar Rodney opened the door. “They are voting on independence tomorrow, sir,” the messenger breathlessly reported. There was no time to lose. Rodney dressed quickly, then saddled and mounted a horse. They galloped into the inky darkness toward Philadelphia, eighty miles away.

Since May of 1775, delegates to the Continental Congress in Philadelphia had been debating whether to break away from England. Rodney, one of the three delegates from Delaware, had been in his seat on June 7, 1776, when Henry Lee of Virginia boldly suggested total independence. Rodney quickly backed him. 

Several delegates did not agree with Lee, and they angrily flung their arguments at those who pressed for independence. How could the young colonies survive without England’s protection? Wouldn’t England’s army crush the colonies’ untrained militia? Without England to maintain law and order, they insisted, mobs would run wild in the streets. The discussions raged for weeks.

In the heat of the debate, Rodney received an alarming report that a thousand English supporters were rioting near Dover, his hometown. Local authorities begged Rodney to return immediately.

Rodney didn’t want to leave before the Congress voted on independence, but other delegates assured him that the debate would drag on for days. Satisfied, Rodney traveled home only to find that the rioting had ended. Exhausted, he decided to rest overnight before returning to Philadelphia. Rodney had been asleep only a few hours when his much-needed rest was disturbed by the messenger.

As his horse sped across the sleeping Delaware countryside, Rodney thought about the situation he was in. He knew it was vital that every colony vote yes when the roll was called for independence.

But the Delaware delegation was split and dangerously close to voting no. One delegate was not yet ready to break ties with England, and the second wanted independence. Rodney’s vote would decide whether Delaware voted yes or no. If even one colony voted no, the resolution would fail. Fearing the worst, Rodney spurred his horse on. 

A fierce thunderstorm broke with the dawn. Lightning flashed and rain poured down, turning the road into a sea of mud. Rodney refused to slow his pace, and by 11 a.m. he was only fifteen miles away. But his horse was exhausted, and Rodney was forced to stop for a fresh mount at a roadside inn. He paced anxiously for thirty excruciating minutes while a horse was saddled. At last Rodney pounded once more toward Philadelphia.

As Rodney rode toward the city, rain slashed at the windowpanes of the Philadelphia statehouse. Inside the assembly room, the air crackled with tension as the delegates listened to arguments for and against independence.

Among them, Thomas Jefferson fidgeted nervously. If Lee’s resolution didn’t pass, Jefferson’s Declaration of Independence would be forgotten. John Adams, who was a staunch supporter of independence, sat tight-lipped and silent. Only seventy-year-old Benjamin Franklin looked confident. He felt sure that a vote for independence would come sometime that day.

Finally the debate ended, and the delegates decided to vote after lunch. That afternoon they returned, and John Hancock, president of the Continental Congress, banged his gavel to quiet the delegates. 

Just then, hooves clattered over the cobblestones in front of the statehouse. All eyes turned toward the door. In burst Rodney — dripping wet, spattered with mud, and still wearing his riding boots and spurs.

“He was the oddest looking man in the world — tall, thin, and slender as a reed, with a pale, veiled face no bigger than a large apple,” John Adams wrote of Rodney’s dramatic appearance. “Yet there is sense and fire, spirit, wit, and humor in his countenance.”

Ignoring the stares, Rodney strode up the aisle and proudly took his seat. Hancock cleared his throat and began to call the vote.

“New Hampshire.”

“Aye.”

“Massachusetts.”

“Aye.”

“Rhode Island.”

“Aye.”

“Pennsylvania.”

“Aye.”

“Delaware.”

Caesar Rodney rose to speak. “As I believe the voice of my constituents and all sensible men are in favor of independence,” he said, “I vote for independence.”

Rodney’s vote broke Delaware’s deadlock. The resolution for independence had passed.