1776 Archives - Karen A. Chase

1776

Women in American Revolution: Agency, Coverture, and the Revolutionary War

November 11, 2025 By Karen A. Chase

As we honor Veteran’s Day today, let’s talk about women’s involvement in our founding and the Revolution. While researching women’s roles in the American Revolution for a historical novel, I became fascinated by primary sources showing young women working in trades or nurturing “expected” talents like needlework while family members discussed their futures. These moments capture a reality for countless colonial women—lives shaped by expectations, limited by law, yet filled with quiet resistance and remarkable agency.

The Legal Reality: Coverture and Women’s Rights

Women in American Revolution faced coverture, a legal doctrine where a married woman’s legal identity merged with her husband’s. Legal scholar William Blackstone wrote that “the very being or legal existence of the woman is suspended during the marriage.” Married women could not own property, make contracts, or control wages.

Yet historian Karin Wulf’s research in Not All Wives: Women of Colonial Philadelphia reveals the system was more complex than black-letter law suggested. Wulf argues that “unmarried women shaped the city as much as it shaped them.” Women arranged marriage settlements, conducted business as “feme sole” traders, and managed estates when husbands were absent. As Wulf notes, “The presence of unmarried women affected household arrangements, intense and emotional ties, and inheritance practices.”

When Duty Collided with Desire

Young women faced impossible choices. Marriages were arranged based on family connections, financial security, and social standing. Carol Berkin’s Revolutionary Mothers: Women in the Struggle for America’s Independence documents how the war disrupted these expectations.

Women “managed farms, plantations, and businesses while their men went into battle.” Yet Berkin notes the paradox: “Yet no matter how long her caretaking duties lasted, no matter how hard she labored in the fields…these actions did not blur the line between male and female.” Women’s contributions were often minimized within traditional gender roles.

Holly A. Mayer’s recent Women Waging War in the American Revolution (2022) brings together current scholarship examining women’s active participation across all social categories, emphasizing that creative activities often masked deeper longings for autonomy.

Women’s Agency During the Revolutionary War

The war years disrupted traditional gender roles. Cokie Roberts’ Founding Mothers: The Women Who Raised Our Nation chronicles how women organized boycotts, raised funds, managed businesses, and even engaged in espionage.

Consider Esther de Berdt Reed, who in 1780 penned “Sentiments of an American Woman” and organized the Ladies Association of Philadelphia. Reed led a door-to-door fundraising campaign that raised over $300,000 for Washington’s Continental Army—just weeks after giving birth to her sixth child. Or Mary Katharine Goddard, Baltimore’s postmaster from 1775-1789 and likely the nation’s first female federal employee. In January 1777, Goddard printed the first official copy of the Declaration of Independence bearing the signers’ names, typesetting her own name into history: “Baltimore, in Maryland: Printed by Mary Katharine Goddard.” (See image below.)

Berkin observed women transformed peacetime activities “into wartime activities, becoming the unofficial quartermaster corps of the Continental Army.” One British officer acknowledged: “If [we] had destroyed all the men in North America, we should have enough to do to conquer the women.”

These women demonstrated agency within restrictive legal frameworks. As one woman wrote during boycotts, “join with” in protest resolutions “implied independent decision making rarely displayed by ‘Ladies.'”

What Needlework Reveals

Needlework was one domain where colonial women could exercise creativity. Women used it to communicate—samplers included political slogans, mourning pieces commemorated loved ones, and coded messages hid in stitchery during the war. Working within acceptable feminine spheres, women found ways to influence outcomes. They couldn’t vote, but they refused to buy British tea. They couldn’t serve in legislatures, but they managed farms feeding Washington’s army.

The Personal Cost of Public Service

The Revolutionary War demanded sacrifices from women that history often overlooks. Women maintained households, protected children, and kept businesses solvent while managing wartime losses. Their service was essential, yet it brought no political rights. As Berkin writes: “The war for independence allowed, and often propelled, these women to step out of their traditional female roles for the briefest of moments…When the war ended, however, these women returned to their kitchens and parlors—and to the anonymity their society considered feminine.”

Lessons for Today

How do we recognize women’s agency when legal systems denied it existed? How do we properly credit contributions when records were kept in husbands’ names?

These questions matter as we approach America’s 250th anniversary. Accurate history requires acknowledging the full complexity of women’s lives—their constraints and their agency, their sacrifices and their resistance. Women in the American Revolution made choices, took risks, and shaped history—even when the law pretended they didn’t exist.

A Question Worth Pondering for lineage groups: Recognizing Women Patriots

This question of women’s agency has practical implications today for lineage organizations like the Daughters of the American Revolution. Current DAR guidelines state that when a married woman paid supply taxes or furnished aid to the revolutionary cause, patriot recognition goes to her husband because coverture law meant all property belonged to him.

This policy assumes women lacked agency—that they couldn’t make independent decisions about supporting the cause. Yet modern historians like Wulf, Berkin, and others have documented extensive evidence of women’s agency, even within coverture. Women ran businesses in husbands’ absence, made financial decisions, and actively chose to support the revolution.

For a women-centered organization, this presents a question worth pondering. If we recognize that women exercised real agency during the Revolutionary War—managing businesses, making political choices, and taking risks for the cause—should we reconsider how we grant patriot status to married women who demonstrably supported independence, even when legal documents bore only their husbands’ names?

Read the full novel, Carrying Independence, by purchasing an autographed copy. This deep dive focuses on chapter 17 of the novel, in which Susannah is stuck doing needlepoint while her mother outlines her future role as only a married woman. It sets the foundation for her ultimate growth through the freedom that war provided her—a time period in which she gained agency.

Revolutionary War Romance: Democracy on the Dance Floor

August 20, 2025 By Karen A. Chase

Imagine if your dating life depended entirely on how well you could navigate a complex series of steps while dozens of people watched your every move. Welcome to colonial courtship during the Revolutionary War, where the ballroom was both battlefield and proving ground for matters of the heart.

When Feet Did the Talking

In Revolutionary War America, courtship dances weren’t just entertainment—they were elaborate social negotiations wrapped in silk and set to music. The way you moved, whom you danced with, and which dances you chose revealed everything about your social status, romantic intentions, and even your political leanings.

The contradance that Nathaniel and Susannah share in Carrying Independence perfectly captures this delicate balance. As Susannah cleverly explains to her smitten partner, the contradance was revolutionary in more ways than one. Unlike the formal French minuet, which kept couples of different social classes from dancing together, the contradance democratically mixed all participants.

The Minuet: Dancing with Your Own Kind

The minuet represented everything aristocratic about European society. This elegant dance required extensive training, perfect posture, and careful attention to complex footwork. Most importantly, it was performed by only one couple at a time while everyone else watched—rather like a performance piece where your social grace was on full display.

Colonial families of means ensured their children learned proper minuet steps. The dance served as a public demonstration of good breeding and education. When you danced the minuet, you weren’t just moving to music—you were announcing your family’s social position and your own marriageability.

The Contradance: Democracy in Motion

The English contradance changed everything. This lively group dance required partners to constantly switch, meaning a blacksmith’s son might find himself briefly partnered with a merchant’s daughter. Contra dances were fashionable in the United States and were considered one of the most popular social dances across class lines in the late 18th century, and unlike the minuet, country dances did not reinforce the established social hierarchy—in fact, they were democratic. The contradance created what Susannah calls “democratic” moments where social barriers temporarily dissolved.

The egalitarianism of country dance had reached its zenith during the Revolution, with the social mixing that had been a feature of the longways set in country dances allowing people of different backgrounds to interact in ways that would have been impossible in more formal settings. These dances featured long lines of couples facing each other, with intricate patterns that sent dancers weaving up and down the set. The music was faster, the steps more energetic, and the whole experience more communal. Instead of performing for an audience, everyone participated together.

A Modern Author’s Discovery

Wanting to learn exactly what a contradance was like so I could write this scene faithfully, I learned to do it myself. In my own town, I found a Regency-era contra dance group, and the experience taught me things no research could convey.

While democratic, I also learned two important things about this dance. First, it was a serious workout. Colonial balls were often all-night affairs that could last from seven in the evening until dawn, with guests attending all day and through most of the night, and many celebrations continuing three to four days. Individual country dances could go on for extended periods since they were described as “everlasting” because fresh dancers frequently cut in to continue until the musicians were exhausted.

Second, the democratic partner-switching could be uncomfortable if you were paired repeatedly with someone of questionable hygiene or unpleasant behavior. Dancing in the 18th century was a good way to discover if a partner had sound teeth, pleasant breath, good bearing, and was generally healthy—which meant the opposite was equally discoverable! The enforced intimacy of the contradance meant you couldn’t always escape an undesirable partner quickly.

Reading Between the Dance Steps

Colonial courtship required young people to become masters of subtle communication. A squeeze of gloved fingers during a turn, maintaining eye contact longer than propriety suggested, or requesting a second dance all carried meaning. The ballroom became a place where emotions could be expressed through carefully orchestrated movement. It was a place where women especially could express feeling through movement—an important asset when writing female 18th century characters.

Parents closely watched these interactions. A young man who danced too often with the same young lady might find himself facing questions about his intentions. Young women learned to use their fans, their glances, and their dance card choices to encourage or discourage suitors.

When Revolutionary War Meets Romance

The shift from minuet to contradance mirrors the larger Revolutionary movement sweeping through the colonies. Just as Americans were rejecting British aristocratic traditions in politics, they were embracing more democratic forms in their social lives.

The contradance’s emphasis on changing partners and shared participation reflected emerging American values of equality and community cooperation. When Nathaniel tells Susannah he prays “democracy will sweep the colonies forevermore,” he’s responding to both her explanation of the dance and the larger political moment they’re living through.

The Jane Austen Connection

I’m a Jane Austen fan, and so the dance scenes in Carrying Independence deliberately echo the romantic tension we see in Jane Austen’s novels and their film adaptations. Why? Austen understood that ballrooms were theaters of emotion—a place where glances, touches, and movements conveyed what words could not.

The 2005 Pride and Prejudice film famously uses the dance between Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy to show their attraction despite their social differences. Similarly, Nathaniel and Susannah’s contradance becomes a metaphor for their ability to connect across class lines—even as larger forces work to keep them apart.

The Music of Democracy

Colonial dance music evolved alongside the social changes. While minuet melodies were formal and restrained, contradance tunes were often based on popular folk songs that everyone knew. Fiddles replaced harpsichords, and musicians encouraged audience participation.

The six-eight time signature that Susannah mentions created a lilting, energetic rhythm that made the contradance feel more like a celebration than a formal exhibition. This musical democracy meant that anyone who could keep time could participate, regardless of their formal training.

Beyond the Ballroom

The social lessons learned in colonial dance halls extended far beyond courtship. Young people practicing contradances were literally rehearsing democratic participation—learning to work together, share leadership, and adapt to changing patterns while maintaining harmony with the group.

These skills served them well when the Revolutionary War required colonists to work together across traditional social boundaries. The same spirit that made the contradance appealing prepared Americans for the collaborative effort of building a new nation.

The ballroom taught other valuable lessons too. Young people learned to read social cues, navigate complex etiquette, and present themselves effectively in public settings. These abilities proved essential whether you were courting a spouse or courting political support.

Modern Echoes

Today’s dating apps and social media have replaced dance cards and calling hours, but the fundamental challenges remain the same. How do we signal romantic interest? How do we navigate social differences? How do we balance personal desire with family expectations?

Colonial courtship dances remind us that romance has always required careful choreography. The steps may change, but the human need to connect, impress, and find love through shared movement continues across centuries.

The democratic spirit of the contradance lives on in contemporary social dancing, from swing dancing to salsa nights, where strangers become temporary partners and social barriers dissolve in the joy of shared rhythm.

Whether you’re navigating a colonial contradance or a modern dance floor, the message remains the same: sometimes the most profound connections happen when we’re brave enough to step into the dance, put forth a hand, and see where the music takes us.

Read the full novel, Carrying Independence, by purchasing an autographed copy. This deep dive focuses on chapter 12 of the novel, which I am serializing for America250 via substack. Read for free here.

The Missing Declaration of Independence Signers: America’s Contract

July 23, 2025 By Karen A. Chase

When we picture the Declaration of Independence signers, most Americans envision fifty-six determined patriots gathered in Philadelphia on July 4, 1776, solemnly affixing their signatures to the document that would birth a nation. This cherished image has been powerfully reinforced by John Trumbull’s famous painting, commissioned in 1817 and hanging in the U.S. Capitol Rotunda, though the painting actually depicts the presentation of the draft on June 28, 1776—not the signing—and includes delegates who were never in the room together at the same time. (Plus the chairs and placement of the windows is incorrect, among other things.) But both this iconic artwork and our national mythology obscure one of the most precarious moments in American history—the weeks and months when seven crucial Declaration of Independence signers remained missing, threatening to unravel the very unity the document was meant to establish.

The Illusion of Unity on July 4th

The truth about July 4, 1776, is far more complex than our national mythology suggests. While Congress approved the final text of the Declaration that day, the formal signing ceremony wouldn’t occur until August 2, 1776. Even then, seven crucial delegates were missing, scattered across the colonies by war, illness, and urgent state business.

This wasn’t merely a clerical inconvenience. In the 18th century, signatures carried profound legal and political weight. More than half the Congress consisted of lawyers and merchants who understood that without unanimous consent demonstrated through actual signatures, the colonies remained vulnerable to British divide-and-conquer tactics.

Why Unanimity Mattered: The Declaration as Contract

The stakes couldn’t have been higher. The Declaration of Independence functioned as more than a political statement—it was fundamentally a contract binding thirteen separate colonies into a unified nation. Without complete signatures, this contract remained legally incomplete, representing only a partial commitment to independence.

Britain understood this weakness and could exploit it by offering separate peace terms to individual colonies, potentially fracturing the fragile American alliance before it truly began. The Crown’s strategy had always been divide and conquer, and an incomplete Declaration provided exactly the opening they needed. Only through unanimous agreement—demonstrated by actual signatures—could the colonies ensure that King George III could not convince individual states that they weren’t truly bound together in common cause.

Here lies one of the most intriguing gaps in the historical record. Despite the enormous importance of completing the Declaration, surprisingly little contemporary documentation exists about exactly how those final seven signatures were obtained.

The Seven Missing Declaration of Independence Signers

The missing delegates weren’t random absentees—they included some of the most prominent leaders in the independence movement:

Richard Henry Lee (Virginia) – The very man who had introduced the Lee Resolution calling for independence was in Virginia helping draft his state’s new constitution. His absence was particularly ironic given his central role in initiating the independence movement.
George Wythe (Virginia) – Thomas Jefferson’s former law teacher and one of the most respected legal minds in America was similarly engaged in Virginia’s constitutional convention. His expertise in constitutional law made his signature especially valuable.
Thomas McKean (Delaware) – Was commanding militia forces in New Jersey alongside George Washington. McKean had cast the crucial deciding vote for Delaware’s approval of independence on July 2, making his signature essential for legitimacy. His situation became increasingly precarious as the war intensified. In his own words to John Adams in 1779, McKean described being “hunted like a fox by the enemy, compelled to remove my family five times in three months, and at last fixed them in a little log-house on the banks of the Susquehanna, but they were soon obliged to move again on account of the incursions of the Indians.”
Elbridge Gerry (Massachusetts) – Was away managing critical war supplies and military logistics for his home state, duties considered essential to the war effort.
Oliver Wolcott (Connecticut) – Was handling military affairs in Connecticut, including the famous melting down of King George III’s statue to make musket balls.
Lewis Morris (New York) – Was with Gerry on military business, as New York faced immediate threat from British forces.
Matthew Thornton (New Hampshire) – Wasn’t even elected to Congress until September 1776, making him impossible to include in any August ceremony. Thornton and Thomas McKean were the last signers.

Each absence represented not just a missing signature, but a potential crack in American unity that enemies could exploit.

The bottom signature area of the Declaration of Independence. Stars indicate the names of the seven men missing from the formal August 2nd signing. #DeclarationOfIndependence #AmericanHistory #FoundingFathers #America250 #RevolutionaryWar #AmericanRevolution #HiddenHistory #IndependenceDay #1776 #HistoricalMystery — The men signed the document by colonies, south-to-north, with Georgia on the far left, and Connecticut on the bottom far right. However not all the names are in order. Matthew Thornton had no room to sign with Josiah Bartlett and others from New Hampshire.

Congress Faces an Unprecedented Challenge

Faced with this crisis, Congress confronted an unprecedented challenge: how to secure the remaining signatures without compromising the document’s security or the safety of the signers.

The options were limited and fraught with risk. They could wait for all delegates to return to Philadelphia, but with war raging and state governments demanding attention, there was no guarantee when—or if—all would return. Alternatively, they could carry the original document to collect signatures, but this would expose the irreplaceable parchment to the dangers of 18th-century travel and potential British interception.

The Historical Mystery: How Were the Signatures Obtained?

We know the basic facts: all seven missing delegates eventually signed the Declaration between September 1776 and early 1781. However, the historical record provides surprisingly little detail about exactly when or where these crucial signatures were obtained. Matthew Thornton, elected to Congress only in September 1776, signed in November when he first arrived in Philadelphia. Thomas McKean’s signature date remains the most disputed—historians believe he signed anywhere from 1777 to as late as 1781, with some evidence suggesting it could have been even later.

But the crucial question remains unanswered: were these signatures obtained when the delegates returned to Philadelphia, or was the Declaration carried to them? The historical record is remarkably silent on this critical point.

Evidence That Congress Wanted In-Person Declaration of Independence Signers

Several factors suggest that Congress preferred delegates to return for in-person signing rather than having the Declaration carried to them. The physical arrangement of signatures on the Declaration shows careful planning, with spaces deliberately reserved for absent delegates. George Wythe’s signature appears at the top of the Virginia delegation, suggesting his colleagues anticipated his eventual presence in Congress.

The Continental Congress’s July 19, 1776 resolution ordered that the Declaration “when engrossed be signed by every member of Congress”—language that suggests a preference for signing to occur in Congress rather than elsewhere. Additionally, the ceremonial importance of the signing would have made in-person presence politically significant for such a momentous document.

However, wanting delegates to return and actually requiring it are different matters. The resolution doesn’t specify what should happen if delegates couldn’t return, leaving the crucial question unanswered.

Inkwell with feather pens in the Statehouse in Philadelphia. Inkwell used to sign historic documents.

Evidence the Declaration of Independence was Carried

However, other evidence suggests the possibility that the Declaration of Independence signers had it carried to them. Different ink compositions in some signatures indicate they weren’t all signed with the same materials used in the August 2 ceremony. Timothy Matlack had prepared consistent iron gall ink in Philip Syng’s silver inkwell for the formal signing, so variations could suggest signatures were affixed elsewhere with different materials. (Syng’s inkwell is in fact featured in Trumbull’s painting.)

The Continental Congress had already demonstrated sophisticated document distribution capabilities, having successfully circulated over 200 printed copies of the Declaration throughout the colonies. The infrastructure existed for secure document transport if the Declaration needed to be carried to absent delegates.

The Missing Evidence

Perhaps most telling is what’s absent from the historical record. No contemporary letters, diaries, or official documents describe the logistics of obtaining these crucial signatures. For such a momentous undertaking, this silence is remarkable. Whether this reflects routine administrative processes, deliberate secrecy for security reasons, or simply lost records, we cannot know.

Thomas Jefferson’s July 8, 1776 letter to Richard Henry Lee mentions sending “a copy of the declaration” but provides no insight into plans for the original signing document or whether it might be carried to missing delegates. Continental Congress journals record that signatures were obtained but offer no details about the process.

A Nation Hanging in the Balance

What we do know is that for several crucial months in 1776, American independence hung by a thread. The Declaration that proclaimed the birth of a new nation remained legally incomplete. Its signers were unprotected by the unanimous commitment they had sought to establish.

This period of uncertainty reveals the fragile nature of the American experiment in its earliest days. The founders understood that without complete consensus, their bold Declaration might amount to nothing more than an ambitious document signed by a partial coalition.

The eventual completion of the Declaration’s signatures, however achieved, represented more than bureaucratic thoroughness. It marked the transformation of thirteen separate colonies into a unified nation, bound together by mutual commitment to independence and the radical principles the Declaration espoused.

The Enduring Historical Legacy

The period when the Declaration remained incomplete is a reminder that American independence was not achieved through a single moment of bold declaration. Instead, it was through months of painstaking work to build and maintain the unity necessary for survival. In our current era of political division, we need this reminder. It takes careful, deliberate effort required to forge a unified nation from diverse and sometimes competing interests.

Read the full novel, Carrying Independence, by purchasing an autographed copy. This deep dive focuses on chapter 8 of the novel, which I am serializing for America250 via substack. Read for free here.

#DeclarationOfIndependence #AmericanHistory #FoundingFathers #America250 #RevolutionaryWar #AmericanRevolution #HiddenHistory #IndependenceDay #1776 #HistoricalMystery

Revolutionary Colonial Post Roads: How 1776 Routes Became Our Modern Highways

June 25, 2025 By Karen A. Chase

Colonial post roads 8-cent Post Rider commemorative stamp - 1973 American Bicentennial Communications Issue. Shows rider on horseback heading into colonial city. #colonialpostroads #americanRevolution #1776 #carryingindependence

This post corresponds with Chapter 4 of Carrying Independence—serialized for FREE on my substack.

When I was researching locations for Carrying Independence, I needed a protagonist who could believably navigate the treacherous colonial post roads of 1776 while carrying the most important document in American history. That’s when I discovered Berks County, Pennsylvania—one of the few counties without its own post office, making it the perfect home for an express rider like Nathaniel Marten who knew every twist and turn of the colonial post roads. But how did those roads come to be a part of our colonial postal system?

Why Some Counties Went Without Post Offices

In 1776, the colonial postal system was still developing under Benjamin Franklin’s guidance as Postmaster General. Counties like Berks relied on express riders because establishing post offices required sufficient population density, reliable local leadership, and most importantly, enough mail volume to justify the expense. Rural counties often depended on traveling riders who knew every trail, creek crossing, and safe haven along their routes.

The National Postal Museum in Washington, D.C. houses fascinating exhibits about these early postal pioneers, including an impressive leather portmanteau from the colonial era—one of the earliest mail carriers in their collection. While express riders typically used linen haversacks for regular mail delivery, riders carrying precious cargo like Nathaniel often switched to more durable leather bags that could better protect vital documents from rain, river crossings, and the general hazards of wilderness travel.

Colonial Post Roads postal mail carrier bag. Leather haversack built by colonial Williamsburg tannery for Bill Ochester Ben Franklin Reenactor — A Revolutionary-era mail bag as designed and created by colonial Williamsburg tannery for Bill Ochester, a Ben Franklin reenactor. Most similar to Colonial Post Road rider bags.

From Footpaths to Superhighways

What makes the colonial post roads truly remarkable is their lasting impact on American infrastructure. Franklin’s postal survey teams carefully mapped routes that balanced efficiency with safety, creating pathways that would endure for centuries. The Boston Post Road, which connected Boston to New York, forms much of today’s Route 1. Similarly, the Great Indian Warpath through Virginia became portions of Interstate 81.

These weren’t random trails—they were strategically planned networks. Post riders marked trees with axe blazes to guide future travelers, creating the first standardized highway system in America. When you drive I-95 today, you’re following routes first traveled by riders carrying letters between distant colonies, slowly stitching together what would become the United States. You can view a full-size zoomable map of the below 1796 Post Roads map from Bradley is here, online at the Library of Congress map collection.

Colonial Post Roads closeup. 1796 map by Bradley.

The Skills That Made Express Riders Essential

Express riders needed extraordinary skills that went far beyond simply staying in the saddle. They had to read weather patterns, navigate by stars, identify safe river crossings, and maintain their horses’ health across hundreds of miles. Most importantly, they needed to be absolutely trustworthy—colonial merchants, political leaders, and families depended on them to deliver everything from business contracts to love letters.

In Carrying Independence, Nathaniel’s background as an express rider makes him uniquely qualified for his ultimate mission. His knowledge of post roads, his ability to survive in the wilderness, and his understanding of how to avoid detection all stem from his experience carrying mail through the Pennsylvania countryside.

Franklin’s Revolutionary Postal Vision

Benjamin Franklin revolutionized colonial mail service, but perhaps not in the way you might expect. As curator Daniel Piazza from the National Postal Museum explains in a fascinating Smithsonian article, the British crown originally established the colonial postal system without any intention of fostering resistance. However, “with the development of a postal network between the colonies, that facilitated communication and coordination between pockets of resistance that without this postal network might have remained more or less isolated.”

Franklin’s innovations included the first postal inspections, standardized postal rates, and the requirement that post riders travel day and night to speed delivery. But his greatest contribution may have been unintentional—creating a network that allowed colonial leaders to coordinate resistance, share ideas, and build the unity necessary for revolution. Rather than “stewing in their own little grievances” in isolated colonies, Americans could now “join up and make common cause” against British rule.

Today, we use our own communication routes to organize and unite. When we gather to vote or protest, we spread the word through social media platforms and text messaging—our modern equivalent of Franklin’s postal network. The principle remains the same: connecting people builds movements, though our messages now travel in seconds rather than weeks.

The postal service became more than a convenience—it was a unifying force. When colonial leaders needed to coordinate resistance to British policies, when merchants required reliable business communications, and when families wanted to maintain connections across vast distances, they all depended on riders like Nathaniel traveling Franklin’s carefully planned routes.

The Legacy of Colonial Mail

Next time you travel a major highway, consider that you might be following the same route that an 18th-century express rider used to carry news of independence. These colonial post roads didn’t just connect towns—they connected ideas, dreams, and the shared vision of a new nation.

The story of America’s postal service is beautifully preserved at the National Postal Museum, where visitors can explore everything from colonial-era mail bags to the Pony Express. It’s a reminder that long before the internet connected us instantly, brave riders like Nathaniel Marten carried the threads that wove our nation together, one letter at a time. You can also read more about my research on Colonial cartography in a previous blog, Navigating Historic Maps.

Discover more about Nathaniel’s journey in Carrying Independence by purchasing an autographed copy at or learn more about the novel at carryingindependence.com. This deep dive focuses on chapter 4 of the novel, which I am serializing for America250 via substack.

#ColonialPostRoads #AmericanRevolution #DeclarationofIndependence #RevolutionaryWar #America250 #FoundingFathers #BenjaminFranklin #CarryingIndependence #HistoricalFiction #Independence250

No Kings: When Personal Loyalty Trumps Declaration of Independence Ideals

June 18, 2025 By Karen A. Chase

Loyalty Oaths and the American Revolution

In Chapter 3 of Carrying Independence, Nathaniel and his friends face a moment that echoes through American history: the pressure to sign an oath of allegiance. As evidenced by loyalty oaths that still exist from the American Revolution, allegiance was not to a specific leader, but to a country. To ideals. This scene resonates powerfully today as Americans grapple with recent “No Kings” protests across the nation, where millions demonstrated to defend Declaration of Independence ideals against what they view as excessive loyalty to a single individual rather than to democratic institutions.

The ideals articulated in the Declaration of Independence—that all men are created equal, that governments derive their power from the consent of the governed—weren’t just revolutionary arguments against King George III. They became America’s foundational promise, the principles we’ve adopted as our national ideals to uphold across generations. Yet here we are, nearly 250 years later, still fighting to honor that promise against the pull of personal loyalty.

The parallels between 1776 and 2025 are striking—and troubling.

The King’s Oath: Personal Loyalty as Political Control

Revolutionary-era oaths of allegiance weren’t abstract pledges to freedom or democracy. To sign an oath to the Crown was a deeply personal declaration of loyalty to King George III as an individual. British subjects swore to “be faithful and bear true allegiance to His Majesty King George the Third” personally, not to Britain as a concept or even to the Crown as an institution.

This wasn’t accidental. Personal loyalty has always been authoritarianism’s most effective tool. When you pledge allegiance to a person rather than principles, that person becomes the sole arbiter of what’s right, what’s legal, and what’s patriotic.

Thomas Paine understood this danger perfectly. In Common Sense, he wrote “that in America THE LAW IS KING. For as in absolute governments the King is law, so in free countries the law ought to be King; and there ought to be no other.” This wasn’t just rhetoric—Paine and the founders deliberately chose a republic over direct democracy or monarchy, creating a system where representatives would be accountable to law and institutions rather than to personal loyalty. The Declaration of Independence ideals echoed this, rejecting personal rule and establishing that governments derive their power from the consent of the governed, not from loyalty to a monarch. (Even Benedict Arnold who flip-flopped signed an oath to the United States, shown above and here. Oh the irony of looking at this document in light of June 14th protests.)

When Party Becomes Person

Yet here we are, nearly 250 years later, watching congressional leaders openly defer to presidential power rather than assert their constitutional authority. During a recent congressional recess in Anchorage, Senator Lisa Murkowski made a stunning admission: “We are all afraid,” she told constituents. “It’s quite a statement, but we are in a time and a place where I certainly have not been before, and I’ll tell ya, I’m oftentimes very anxious myself about using my voice, because retaliation is real.” This reveals how personal loyalty has again become the currency of American politics.

Trump has fundamentally transformed the Republican Party into one defined by loyalty to him, turning it against other major institutions in ways that echo the very system America’s founders fought to escape. When 61% of Republicans want their president to “stand up to” Democratic leaders even if it makes solving critical problems harder, we see the same dynamic that split colonial families: loyalty to a person superseding loyalty to the common good.

This isn’t partisan observation—it’s historical pattern recognition. The founders specifically designed our system to prevent exactly this concentration of personal loyalty around one individual.

The Cost of Choosing Sides

During my research at Colonial Williamsburg and Yorktown, I watched reenactments simulate a moment in which representatives for the Crown and for the colonies demanded oaths be signed—respectively one for the King, and one for the Cause of Independence. To other reenactors the struggle was real, but to the modern tourists, the choice was clear. We would absolutely support ideals for the betterment of all over loyalty to and for a single man. And in part because we know how the Revolution ended—and on which side of history.

Yet that clarity came from historical distance. The colonists depicted in that scene had no such advantage. Research on charismatic authority explains how supporters accept a leader’s extraordinary qualities without question, creating what scholars describe as cult-like devotion—whether to a king or revolutionary leaders. But questioning that authority is how we actually came around to declaring our independence from a leader who no longer justly served the people.

Nathaniel’s conflict in Chapter 3 mirrors that original uncertainty. His English mother represents heritage and tradition; his father’s rifle-making supports the colonial cause; his friend Kalawi offers an entirely different perspective on the conflict. Must he choose one loyalty and abandon all others, and during a time of war?

“Who would he be aiming at exactly?” Nathaniel asks himself in a later chapter, capturing the profound confusion of someone caught between competing loyalties.

The revolutionary generation faced this impossible choice. Families split. Communities fractured. Neighbors became enemies. All because personal loyalty to either the King or revolutionary ideals and causes became the test of political legitimacy.

The Founders’ Warning in Declaration of Independence Ideals

What would Thomas Paine say about Americans again debating loyalty to a single person? Perhaps he’d be stunned that we’re relitigating principles he thought settled in 1776. In Common Sense, he wrote of America’s potential to be “the glory of the earth”—not the glory of any individual.

The recent “No Kings” demonstrations, with their explicit rejection of monarchical tendencies, echo Paine’s central insight: free people don’t pledge allegiance to individuals. They pledge allegiance to ideas, institutions, and laws that transcend any single person.

Jefferson would perhaps have mixed reactions to our current moment. He’d be dismayed by institutional erosion, but perhaps proud of the “No Kings” demonstrations. When over 5 million Americans took to the streets in more than 2,000 cities to protest what they viewed as monarchical tendencies, they embodied the Declaration of Independence ideals—its core principle—that governments derive “their just powers from the consent of the governed.”

Like the Declaration’s 27 grievances against King George III (nearly all of which begin with the word HE), the protesters articulated specific objections to individual overreach. While more than half of American voters elected Trump, more than 5 million on June 14th refused to accept personal rule over democratic institutions—exactly the kind of popular resistance Jefferson championed when he wrote in our founding document, “whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive” of the people’s rights, “it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it.”

The Choice Before Us

The characters in Carrying Independence didn’t have the luxury of historical hindsight. They couldn’t know that rejecting personal monarchy would create the world’s most successful democracy. They had to choose based on principle, not certainty.

We face a similar choice, but with the advantage of knowing where personal loyalty leads. We’ve seen democratic backsliding around the world when citizens transfer their allegiance from institutions to individuals. We’ve witnessed how loyalty tests and conspiracy theories can undermine democratic norms. Even President Zelensky understands loyalty is not unto himself. In his own inaugural address he stated, “We need people in power who will serve the people. This is why I really do not want my pictures in your offices, for the President is not an icon, an idol or a portrait. Hang your kids’ photos instead, and look at them each time you are making a decision.”

The question Nathaniel faces in Chapter 3 is this and it remains urgent today. What would compel you to sign an oath of allegiance, especially when it divides you from others? But perhaps we should be more clear: What would prevent you from signing such an oath? What should? What principles and ideals are worth more—and worth fighting for—over personal loyalty?

The founders answered clearly when 56 of them signed the sole copy of the Declaration of Independence: the principle that no individual should be above the law, that power belongs to the people, and that government exists to serve citizens rather than the other way around.

As we approach America’s 250th anniversary, the wisdom of 1776 feels both ancient and immediate. The choice between the Declaration of Independence ideals and our founding-vision of government by “consent of the governed” versus personal rule isn’t historical artifact—it’s the living challenge of every generation.

This post is a deeper discussion for Chapter 3 of Carrying Independence, my historical novel about the signing of the Declaration of Independence. It is part of my ongoing weekly chapter serial release—56 chapters FREE—in honor of our America250 Sesquicentennial on July 4, 2026. Join in and read the chapters on my substack: From the Wandering Desk of Karen A. Chase.

#AmericanRevolution #DeclarationOfIndependence #ColonialAmerica #America250 #HistoricalFiction #CarryingIndependence #1776 #RevolutionaryWar #AmericanHistory #NoKings #RepublicanIdeals

When Elk Ruled: Revolutionary War Pennsylvania Wilderness

June 11, 2025 By Karen A. Chase

In Chapter 2 of Carrying Independence, young Nathaniel Marten races across the Pennsylvania countryside to join his friends Arthur and Kalawi for an elk hunt on Topton Mountain. Their hunt represents not just adventure, but participation in an ancient relationship with the land—one that was changing by 1776. For readers of Carrying Independence, understanding this environmental history at the time of the Declaration of Independence—and the Revolutionary War Pennsylvania wilderness —adds depth to Nathaniel’s world.

First, there is no doubt that this scene is influenced by the opening hunting scene from the film Last of the Mohicans. Although, while those characters killed their quarry, I preferred my expert hunters miss, their hunt interrupted by shots not their own.

To write this scene faithful to the time period, I visited Kutztown and Topton Mountain while researching this novel. Along the way, I also learned a tremendous amount about elks—all for a handful of pages—so you, my dear reader, could envision Kalawi and Nathaniel’s lost wilderness.

The Elk Abundance of Colonial Pennsylvania

These magnificent animals were truly massive—historical records indicate they frequently weighed 1,200 pounds and stood 17 hands (5 feet 8 inches) at the shoulder—far larger than modern Rocky Mountain elk. Unlike today’s carefully managed wildlife populations, colonial elk moved in herds that could number in the hundreds.

Farmers considered them agricultural disasters. A single herd could destroy an entire season’s crop in one night, trampling cornfields and devouring newly planted vegetables. The Pennsylvania elk were part of the Eastern elk subspecies (Cervus canadensis canadensis), which ranged from Georgia to southern Canada and from the Atlantic coast to the Great Plains.

A Hunting Culture Born of Necessity

For Native American tribes like the Shawnee—represented by Kalawi in the novel—elk hunting wasn’t sport but survival. Every part of the animal served a purpose: meat for sustenance, hides for clothing and shelter, antlers for tools, and sinew for thread. The sustainable hunting practices of tribes like the Lenape and Shawnee had coexisted with elk herds for thousands of years.

Like in Nathaniel’s time, the mountain’s dense forests of oak and maple were cut through by game trails, and punctuated by clearings perfect for elk grazing. The rhododendron thickets mentioned in the chapter still flourish there today, creating natural blinds that colonial hunters would have used to approach their quarry. But then, Revolutionary War Pennsylvania wilderness drastically changed.

The Rapid Disappearance

The destruction of Pennsylvania’s elk happened with shocking speed. As European settlement expanded throughout the 1700s, the war was fought, and commercial hunting increased, the massive herds began to shrink. The arrival of market hunters in the early 1800s, who could ship elk meat to growing eastern cities via newly built railroads, worsened it.

By 1850—just 74 years after the Revolutionary War—Pennsylvania’s elk were decimated. When John D. Decker of Centre County shot a young male elk that had been driven south by forest fires, on September 1, 1877, he killed the last eastern elk of Pennsylvania.

Impact on Native American Communities

The disappearance of elk, called wapiti by the Shawnee, meaning “white rump,” devastated Native American communities who had depended on them for generations. For a clan like Kalawi’s in Carrying Independence, losing this crucial food source meant fundamental changes to their way of life. Many were forced to rely more heavily on European trade goods or relocate, following the game westward.

The elk’s extinction represented more than lost hunting opportunities—it symbolized the broader transformation of the landscape that accompanied European colonization. Ancient migration routes were broken by farms and settlements. The late 1800s invention of barbed wire created even more problems—where game roamed was limited, and traditional seasonal hunting grounds became private property. Cultural practices that had sustained Native communities for millennia became impossible to maintain.

Walking in Their Footsteps

Standing on Topton Mountain today, surrounded by the same mountain laurel and oak forests that sheltered Nathaniel and his friends, I wanted to close my eyes, and once more hear the thunder of dozens of eastern elk hooves as they did. The terrain remains rugged and beautiful, perfect elk habitat even now. It’s a landscape that holds memory—of abundance, of loss, and of the complex relationships between humans and the natural world during America’s founding era.

The Return of the Elk Post-Revolutionary War Pennsylvania wilderness.

Pennsylvania’s elk story has a hopeful ending. In 1913, the Pennsylvania Game Commission began reintroducing elk to the state using animals from Yellowstone National Park. Today, approximately 1,000 elk roam the forests of north-central Pennsylvania, primarily in Elk, Cameron, and Clearfield counties.

These modern elk are Rocky Mountain elk (Cervus canadensis nelsoni), a different subspecies from the original Eastern elk (Cervus canadensis canadensis), which is now extinct. But their presence represents something powerful: the possibility of restoration, of bringing back what was lost.

The elk may have vanished from Pennsylvania’s Revolutionary War landscape, but their story reminds us that the America our founders knew was a very different place—wilder, more abundant, and more deeply connected to the rhythms of the natural world.

This post is a deep explanation of a “Fun Fact” for Chapter 2 of Carrying Independence, my historical novel about the signing of the Declaration of Independence. It is part of my ongoing weekly chapter serial release—56 chapters FREE—in honor of our America250 Sesquicentennial on July 4, 2026. Join in and read the chapters on my substack: From the Wandering Desk of Karen A. Chase.

#AmericanRevolution #DeclarationOfIndependence #PennsylvaniaWildlife #ElkHistory #ColonialAmerica #America250 #HistoricalFiction #WildlifeExtinction #Pennsylvania #CarryingIndependence #1776 #RevolutionaryWar #AmericanHistory #WildlifeConservation #ExtinctAnimals

Declaration of Independence Novel: Serializing for America’s 250th

June 4, 2025 By Karen A. Chase

It’s been six years since Carrying Independence, my novel about the Declaration of Independence, was published. Now, we are a year away from celebrating the 250th anniversary of that document on July 4, 2026. In honor of that anniversary, I feel compelled to share this story more widely—my gift to my fellow Americans.

Starting today, I’m releasing Carrying Independence, chapter by chapter—leading up to the 250th—on my new Substack Publication: From the Wandering Desk of Karen A. Chase.

Along with it, every other week on my blog here, I will take you on a deep dive about a historical fact within that week’s chapter. You can also join the conversation, and collectively we can have a good (and civil, please) discussion about our Declaration.

Join me & read the prologue & chapter one.

Why This Revolutionary War Novel Matters Now

This story matters, now more than ever, for two compelling reasons.

First, it’s a celebration. The 56 chapters I am releasing are a tribute to the 56 men who ultimately signed that one sole copy of the Declaration on August 2nd, 1776. In reality, however, in 1776, it was thousands of ordinary individuals—not merely those founding fathers—who decided to band together behind a Cause greater than themselves. And that action became the motto of the United States. E Pluribus Unum. Out of many, one.

Second, it’s necessary. Today, various news outlets and politicians use our founding document for sound bites and publicity, often describing its purpose or content incorrectly or without context. Such acts are dividing us at a time when we should be coming together, just as we did in the beginning. As Thomas Paine wrote in American Crisis, “The period is now arrived, in which either they or we must change our sentiments, or one or both must fall.”

The Untold Story of Our Declaration of Independence Founding Document

The novel, Carrying Independence, is laying on the Declaration, along with a pocket-watch, ink, and other vintage pieces from 1776.

When I began researching this book in 2009, I discovered something remarkable: there were no historical novels focused on the actual process of signing the Declaration of Independence. Everyone knows the document, but few knew when it was formally signed (August 2, 1776). Even fewer knew how. (Historians still debate this point.)

Carrying Independence tells the story of Nathaniel Marten—a reluctant Revolutionary War courier tasked by Congress with carrying the document (hence the title) and acquiring the final signatures on a sole copy—a contract that would unite us as one nation. The novel opens at a woodpile, with Nathaniel—the very man charged with the Declaration’s protection—determined to destroy it. Because all seemed lost. Because we were losing that war.

My Goals in Crafting This Historical Novel

Choosing to write a factually-accurate historical novel about a document everyone knows—yet of which I knew very little—seems, well… foolish. Yes, looking back, that’s the word that comes to mind. To set that Revolutionary War novel during a time period I also knew scant about? About a war so long ago that even the most deeply born-and-bred Americans have six or even eight generations between them and 1776? Ludicrous.

I don’t tend to do things halfway. (Hold my ale.) So, I set two ambitious requirements for this Revolutionary War story:

Share deeper, lesser-known truths. I wanted readers to repeatedly ask, “Was that true? How did I not know this?” By revealing true yet hidden stories about real people and events, I hoped to make even well-informed Americans question what they thought they knew about our founding. (Did you know a woman’s name is on a 1777 copy of the Declaration—the first to broadcast all the names?)

Create genuine suspense about known history. I needed to weave unknown facts with familiar events to generate such tension that even Revolutionary War enthusiasts would worry about the outcome—like watching Apollo 13 and wringing your hands over whether the crew actually made it home safely.

The Response Has Been Extraordinary

Did we win? Or did the Redcoats? Did the Declaration of Independence actually receive all the signatures? Or was it stuffed in a dresser somewhere, or worse, thrown onto a fire by the very person tasked with its completion?

Since publishing Carrying Independence in 2019, the response has been remarkable. Thousands of copies sold in the US, Canada and even the UK! Over 100 presentations and book clubs nationwide. (And now even a job as an onboard history lecturer on American Cruise Lines as a result!) A handful of awards, including second place in the Cinematic Screencraft Cinematic Book competition, and being recognized as Number 12 of the Top 100 Indie Books of 2019. An award for independence. How fitting.

I’m thrilled by readers who’ve shared how worried they were while reading. One woman told me she yelled out loud, “No, Nathaniel, don’t go in there! You have to finish this!”

I’m in awe of historians who asked me for resources I’d discovered so they could research more about these lesser-known Revolutionary figures and events.

And I’m honored by Americans linked by lineage to Patriots—Daughters and Sons of the American Revolution—who said they picked up the Declaration of Independence and read it beginning to end—some for the first time.

Why the Revolution Was About More Than Battlefields

The Semiquincentennial celebrations of our founding document is the perfect moment for more of us to learn about the Declaration’s journey through a war that could have ended very differently. A war won against insurmountable odds, and fought, in part, for the ideal of becoming something better. However, unlike what we’re taught in school, the Revolution wasn’t just on battlefields. Hopefully, by reading Nathaniel’s story, you’ll understand why John Adams said the real American Revolution “was in the minds and hearts of the people.”

Join Nathaniel’s Journey to July 4th, 2026

Today, there is no other historical novel about the American Revolution quite like this—focused on the actual signing of the Declaration of Independence, following a reluctant courier through the perilous journey that brought our nation into being.

Although Nathaniel is fictional, you’ll discover the facts about how our founding document and this nation came into being against impossible odds, a Cause carried by ordinary people like you and me who chose something bigger than themselves.

This story isn’t just mine. It’s ours. At the very least, I hope you’ll learn about and read our original Declaration of Independence. As Nathaniel’s father says at a critical turn in the novel, “The only person more ignorant than a man who cannot read, is one who can and chooses not to.”

Join me—share the message far and wide—and together we’ll be Carrying Independence.

Subscribe and Read the First Chapter

Join the conversation on Substack: From the Wandering Desk of Karen A. Chase

Ready to discover the untold story of how our founding document survived the Revolutionary War? Visit Carrying Independence to learn more about the novel, or secure your autographed copy at my bookstore.

The First Signers of the Declaration

May 21, 2019 By Karen A. Chase

Founding-Documents Blog Series: Part Two

Between now and July 4th, my blog features an ongoing series related to the history and signing of the Declaration of Independence…

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When Did Congress Sign the Declaration?

In Part One of this series, I described the Declaration as a contract. Just as we would when signing a contract today, in 1776 Congress tried to get all the parties (congressmen) into the same room on the same day to sign it—witnesses to one another. The date they chose for everyone to reassemble in Philadelphia was August 2nd, 1776.

The Issues of Assembling in 1776

When mail takes between 2–4 weeks to deliver, and you’re fighting a war with an army already on your soil, getting everyone to return to Philadelphia is a chore. Additionally, the distance imposed limits. Today I can drive from Richmond to Williamsburg in about 45 minutes, but in 1776 it could take up to 3 days–dependent on horse, carriage, and/or weather. If I’m not feeling well, I’d send my regrets, just as Richard Henry Lee did.

Today I can drive from Richmond to Williamsburg in about 45 minutes, but in 1776 it could take up to 3 days–dependent on horse, carriage, and/or weather.

How many Congressmen were in Philadelphia on August 2nd, 1776?

Let’s look at numbers. In the end, 56 men signed the Declaration. There were just 55 until November of 1776, when New Hampshire elected Matthew Thornton (topic for the next post…). Of those original 55, evidence suggests there were between 49 or 50 at the formal event. All of Congress except Richard Henry Lee, George Wythe, Lewis Morris, Oliver Wolcott, Thomas McKean, Matthew Thornton, and Elbridge Gerry.

While the latter, Gerry, is generally thought to have signed it later in the fall, in a post about the signing by J.M. Bell in his blog Boston 1775, he recounts a wild story told about the signing in which Benjamin Harrison IV saying to Gerry that, “I shall have a great advantage over you Mr. Gerry when we are all hung for what we are now doing. From the size and weight of my body I shall die in a few minutes, but from the lightness of your body you will dance in the air an hour or two before you are dead.” Fictions aside…

Did Congress Record who signed the Declaration?

Well, that would have made writing my book all the easier! Alas, while Congress often listed individual names for voting records in their meeting minutes, the August 2nd entry in their journal showed only this.

Reader Insider Note: This same historical entry from Congress’ “Secret Journals,” page 53, helped me craft bits of fiction for Carrying Independence. The passage is included on page 80 of the novel, and when I first discovered the entry, I used it to determine:

• The name, “Mirtle,” as a surname pseudonym for my protagonist, Nathaniel.
• How much Nathaniel would be paid for his task—30,000 pounds.
• A sailing vessel, the Frontier captained by Hugo Blythe featured in this excerpt, would take Nathaniel north to Manhattan.

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For more history nerd posts like these, subscribe to the blog. Guest posts are welcomed and encouraged. Contact me for details.

For behind-the-scenes author-related news, giveaways, and to find out where I might be speaking near you, subscribe to my e-publication, CHASING HISTORIES.

There is only One Declaration of Independence

May 16, 2019 By Karen A. Chase

Founding-Documents Blog Series: Part One

Between now and July 4th, my blog will be an ongoing series related to the history and signing of the Declaration of Independence. While our country and the media is lately consumed with the US Constitution, understanding our founding better begins with an examination of the documents in order of creation.

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How many copies exist of the Declaration of Independence?

Hundreds. You’ll find a tabloid size copy in historic homes like Berkley Plantation, home of Benjamin Harrison IV, signer of the original document. There’s a massive copy hanging on the wall in the Virginia State capitol building. The American Revolution Museum at Yorktown has a broadside. We see so many versions of the Declaration of Independence, and you can buy a replica for about $4 at historic museums. However, in 1776 there was only ONE piece of parchment—with hand-written calligraphy—drafted to contain all the signatures.

The Sole Declaration of Independence

Yes, it’s this document (approx. 24″x30″) at the National Archives that thousands of people (over 275,000 during June and July alone) visit when they come to the museum each year. It’s the one encased in bullet-proof glass stolen by Nicholas Cage. I wouldn’t call it a copy. A copy implies that it’s a duplicate. That ONE original document (shown above), is the only one that contains all 56 original signatures of the Congress. (Until November of 1776 there were only 55 signatures, but that’s a whole other story.)

Why was there one Declaration of Independence?

It was a contract. It was a unanimous agreement between the men and between the thirteen colonies—an agreement for the colonies to separate from the Crown AND come together as these united states (yes, lower case) of America.

The copies you see—often called Broadsides and with typeset text and names—were made before the original contract was signed and afterward. Broadsides were notices, distributed and posted, detailing what Congress had agreed to do.

What they had agreed to was not war. I find it easiest to remember the purpose of the Declaration by describing it one of two ways… It was both a divorce decree and a marriage agreement. It was one of the biggest “Dear John” letters in history.

“The #DeclarationofIndependence was not a declaration of war. It was both a divorce decree and a marriage agreement. Basically, it was the biggest ‘Dear John’ letter in history.” Huzzah to #carryingindependence and sharing #ChasingHistories with author @karenachase – Tweet This…

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For more history nerd posts like these, subscribe to the blog. Guest posts are welcomed and encouraged. Contact me for details.

For behind-the-scenes author-related news, giveaways, and to find out where I might be speaking near you, subscribe to my e-publication, CHASING HISTORIES.