A space that begs for reverence is the Rotunda for the Charters of Freedom at the National Archives in Washington. Immediately upon entering, visitors begin speaking in hushed tones or not at all. They take reflective stances, with hands clasped behind their backs or one arm folded and their chins resting on closed fists.
A Shrine
The setting constructed to hold these documents conveys their magnitude. The high-domed room was designed by New York architect John Russell Pope (1874–1937); in fact, he was responsible for designing the entire National Archives building. The semicircular space is neoclassical, with pediments and columns presenting Greek and Roman elements. To complement the space and present a depiction of the historical events surrounding the creation of the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution, the architect commissioned artist Barry Faulkner (1881–1966) to paint two large murals above the exhibit cases.
Adding to the sensory nature of the Rotunda is its dim lighting, necessary to reduce damage to the documents’ precious parchment. The room is cold too. Heat would contribute to the demise of the old and fragile documents.
The Declaration of Independence is the most faded of the three documents. If not protected, organic material such as parchment can react with oxygen and undergo deterioration over time. To guard the Charters of Freedom as much as possible against further deterioration, they are displayed in specially designed, high-tech encasements with aluminum and gold-plated titanium frames. Additionally, the documents are surrounded by an inert gas to minimize exposure to oxygen.
In addition to preservation efforts, security is critical. The exhibit encasements are bulletproof, the Rotunda is under constant surveillance by armed guards and security cameras, and all three documents are lowered every evening into a fire-, shock-, water-, theft-, and bomb-proof vault.
However, the Charters haven’t always resided in the Rotunda at the National Archives. Each document’s journey has had varied residences, with new scientific advances over the past few centuries dictating their preservation process.
A National Archives report on the documents pointed out: “Far sighted as they were, the Framers could never have dreamed of the steps that future caretakers would take—and the amazing space-age tools and technologies brought to bear—to ensure the preservation of their words written on parchment in the last decades of the eighteenth century.”
Finding a Permanent Home
Prior to ending up safe and secure in the Rotunda, each of the three founding documents traveled, were handled, were rolled up or folded, and were exposed to the elements.According to the National Park Service (NPS): “The documents were displayed at the Centennial Exhibition in 1876 in Philadelphia and afterwards were returned to the State, War, and Navy Building in Washington (now the Eisenhower Executive Office Building). The documents remained displayed in a cabinet within the departmental library until 1894, when they were removed because they were fading.”
Occasionally, one or all of the documents were displayed during special events.
However, the Charters primarily remained in storage from the late 1800s until 1920, when a secretary of state committee was formed to focus on better preservation of the documents. The next year, President Warren G. Harding issued an executive order directing the transfer of the Charters to the Library of Congress.
In the early 1930s, the National Archives was designed and built. President Herbert Hoover announced before leaving office in 1933 that the Charters would be housed in the new building. President Franklin D. Roosevelt, in 1934, followed with the same declaration. Yet the Library of Congress’s librarian at the time, Herbert Putnam, adamantly objected to transferring the documents to the National Archives. He felt that if they were displayed there, no one would ever view them.
The Pearl Harbor attack precipitated the Charters being moved from the Library of Congress to Fort Knox, until 1944 when they were returned to the library. Eventually, it was then-Archivist of the U.S., Wayne Grover, who instigated the documents’ final move. His reasoning was that not only was there little protection against fire or bomb attacks at the Library of Congress, but the documents were not in an adequate environment to protect parchments from expanding, contracting, and fading.
On Dec. 13, 1952, countless military and police personnel, as well as rows of 88 servicewomen, lined the steps of the Library of Congress. A National Archives report, “Pieces of History,” states:
“On that chilly December morning, passersby saw the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution of the United States going for a ride. … A color guard, ceremonial troops, two Army bands, two light tanks, four servicemen armed with submachine guns, and a motorcycle brigade then escorted the armored vehicle down Pennsylvania and Constitution Avenues to the National Archives Building. Along the parade route were Army, Navy, Coast Guard, Marine, and Air Force personnel and the general public who came out to watch the procession. At 11:35 a.m., the General and 12 policemen carried the documents up the Constitution Avenue stairs into the Rotunda and formally delivered them into the custody of the Archivist of the United States.”
There they are today, studied and contemplated by more than a million people annually.
