History Archives - Karen A. Chase

History

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.

Hidden History: Continental Congress Secret Journals

September 3, 2025 By Karen A. Chase

When we think about the founding of America, we often picture dramatic moments like the signing of the Declaration of Independence or George Washington crossing the Delaware. But some of the most crucial work was quite hush hush—in shadows and secrecy. My favorite hidden history? The Continental Congress maintained not one, but two sets of official records during the Revolutionary War. The public journals for the Crown told one story. The “Secret Journals” told another entirely.

Charles Thomson: America’s Keeper of Secrets

Charles Thomson served as the only Secretary of the Continental Congress for its entire fifteen-year existence, from 1774 to 1789. While delegates came and went, Thomson remained the constant presence, faithfully recording debates and decisions that would shape the infant nation. His name was regarded as an emblem of truth, and in all the factional disputes of the Revolutionary period, his judgment was respected.

But Thomson held a responsibility that went far beyond typical record-keeping. He was trusted to decide which minutes of their meetings and decisions were recorded in the Secret Journal. This wasn’t just administrative discretion—it was a matter of life and death during wartime.

Why Two Sets of Books?

The Continental Congress faced an impossible situation. As rebels fighting against the British Crown, they were technically committing treason with every decision they made. Yet they also needed to govern, conduct diplomacy, and coordinate military efforts. The Continental Congress, recognizing the need for secrecy regarding foreign intelligence, foreign alliances, and military matters, maintained “Secret Journals,” apart from its public journals, to record its decisions in such matters.

And yes—they actually called them the “Secret Journals.” Not the “Confidential Records” or “Classified Documents” or some other euphemistic title. Just the Secret Journals. The straightforward name tells us everything about the founders’ mindset: they knew they were doing dangerous work, and they weren’t going to pretend otherwise.

The public journals served multiple purposes. They kept colonists informed about congressional actions and demonstrated legitimacy to both supporters and skeptics. But they were also sent to Britain as required communications from what the Crown still considered its colonial assemblies.

The Secret Journals, however, contained the real business of revolution. Congress recorded all decisions regarding the Committee of Secret Correspondence in “Secret Journals”, separate from the public journals used to record decisions concerning other matters. These confidential records documented intelligence operations, foreign negotiations, covert supply chains, and military strategies that would have meant execution for anyone involved if discovered by British forces.

What the Continental Congress Secret Journals Contained

The scope of activities hidden in these journals was remarkable. The committee employed secret agents abroad, conducted covert operations, devised codes and ciphers, funded propaganda activities, authorized the opening of private mail, acquired foreign publications for analysis, established courier systems, and developed maritime capabilities apart from the Continental Navy.

The Secret Journals covered the period from 1775-88 and included sensitive intelligence operations and foreign negotiations. They documented everything from arms procurement in France to intelligence gathering about British troop movements. The journals also contained records of financial arrangements that couldn’t be made public—payments to spies, funding for covert operations, and contracts with suppliers who needed anonymity for their own protection.

On November 9, 1775, the Continental Congress adopted its oath of secrecy, one more stringent than the oaths of secrecy it would require of others in sensitive employment. This wasn’t theatrical politics—it was survival.

The Weight of Secrets

Thomson’s role required incredible discretion and judgment. He had to determine which congressional decisions could safely appear in public records and which needed to remain hidden. After leaving office, he chose to destroy a work of over 1,000 pages that covered the political history of the American Revolution, stating his desire to avoid “contradict[ing] all the histories of the great events of the Revolution”.

This destruction of records represents one of American history’s great mysteries. What did Thomson know that he felt needed to remain buried? His decision to preserve the myths and legends of the Revolution rather than reveal the messy, complicated truth shows how heavy the burden of these secrets became.

The Secret Journals weren’t published until 1821, more than thirty years after the Continental Congress disbanded. None of the contemporary editions included the “Secret Journals” (confidential sections of the records), which were not published until 1821. By then, most of the original participants were dead, and the new nation was strong enough to handle the truth about its covert beginnings.

From History to Fiction: A Novelist’s Discovery

When I was researching Carrying Independence, I knew my protagonist Nathaniel needed a cover story for his mission. I had already named him Nathaniel Marten, choosing his German-based name by reviewing birth/death/marriage records in the Pennsylvania area for the mid-1700s (nearly 1/3 of PA citizens were German).

During my deep dive on the Continental Congress Secret Journal entries, one particular entry caught my attention—a resolution about contracting with a “Mr. Mirtle” for importing goods. The language was formal, vague, and clearly designed to hide the true nature of whatever operation was being authorized.

The Declaration of Independence being engrossed,
and compared at the table, was signed by the members.
Resolved, That the secret committee be empowered to contract with
Mr. Mirtle for the importation of goods to the amount of thirty thousand
pounds sterling, at his risk, and fifteen thousand pounds sterling
at the risk of the United States of America, for the publick service.
That the marine committee be empowered to purchase a swift sailing vessel
to be employed by the secret committee in importing said goods.

Then I realized something incredible: Marten and Mirtle are both derived from Mars, the Roman god of war. My fictional character’s name and the name in this entry were a perfect historical coincidence. I could use this to give Nathaniel exactly what he needed for such a secret mission. An alias.

This discovery shaped how I wrote Chapter 14. I used the exact format and language style of authentic Secret Journal entries but inserted my fictional “carrying committee” and the mysterious Mr. Mirtle contract. The entry in the novel reads exactly like the real thing because it follows the actual patterns Thomson used when recording sensitive operations.

The beauty of historical fiction lies in these moments where research and imagination intersect. By grounding fictional elements in authentic historical practices, the story gains credibility while honoring the real experiences of people who lived through these extraordinary times. (It also allowed me to bring in the notion of Nathaniel taking the sailing vessel referenced here. Later in the novel, he hops on the ship The Frontier featuring a new fictional character—and one of my favorites—Captain Hugo Blythe.)

When Secrets Finally Came to Light

For decades after the Revolution, the Secret Journals remained exactly that—secret. The Continental Congress disbanded in 1789, but the confidential records stayed locked away. It wasn’t until 1821, more than thirty years later, that these hidden chapters of American history were finally published by Thomas B. Wait in Boston under the official title “Secret Journals of the Acts and Proceedings of Congress, From the First Meeting Thereof to the Dissolution of the Confederation.”

The timing wasn’t accidental. By 1821, most of the original participants were dead, and the United States was strong enough to handle revelations about its covert beginnings. The published Secret Journals revealed a four-volume treasure trove of intelligence operations, foreign negotiations, and military strategies that had been hidden from British eyes during the war.

Today, curious readers can explore these fascinating documents themselves through digital archives. The complete Secret Journals are available online, offering an unvarnished look at how the founders really operated when they thought no one would ever know.

Legacy of the Secret Journals

The Secret Journals remind us that the founding of America wasn’t just about grand speeches and dramatic declarations. It was also about intelligence networks, covert operations, and the countless unnamed individuals who risked everything to make independence possible. For years, Thomson’s brain held the best record of what really happened in the Continental Congress.

These hidden records shaped American independence in ways we’re still discovering today. They reveal the Continental Congress as a sophisticated operation that understood the complexities of 18th-century geopolitics. The founders weren’t just idealistic rebels—they were strategic thinkers who built an intelligence apparatus that helped secure victory against the world’s most powerful empire.

The next time you read about the Revolutionary War, remember that for every public resolution passed by the Continental Congress, there may have been secret decisions recorded in Thomson’s careful handwriting. Some of those secrets changed the course of history. Others remain buried forever.

Read the full novel, Carrying Independence, by purchasing an autographed copy. This deep dive focuses on chapter 14 of the novel, which I am serializing for America250 via substack—read for free.

PS: A Secret Journal Entry about Women in the Revolution

While researching the Continental Congress Secret Journals, I stumbled upon another entry that perfectly illustrates how these records captured the human side of the Revolution. On page 804 of the Journals, there’s a matter-of-fact entry about reimbursing Mary House—the same innkeeper whose boarding house sheltered James Madison and other Virginia delegates—for “boarding and funeral expenses of General Du Coudray, deceased.”

General Philippe Charles Tronson du Coudray had been appointed “Inspector General of Ordnance and Military Manufactories” in August 1777, but

died shortly after arriving in America. Congress quietly reimbursed Mary House $400 for his board and lodging, plus $137 for “sundries furnished for the funeral”—a total of $537. The entry sits between payments for paper-making supplies and engraving work, as routine as any other congressional expense.

This small entry reveals something profound about the Revolutionary War experience. Behind every grand military appointment and strategic decision were real people—innkeepers like Mary House who opened their homes to foreign volunteers, provided comfort in their final days, and handled the practical necessities when death arrived unexpectedly. Mary House and her daughter Eliza Trist represent the countless women who supported the Revolution in ways that rarely made it into official histories. I proved Mary House as a new female Patriot for the DAR as part of my work on Eliza Trist’s life and journals, and entries like this in the Secret Journals provide rare glimpses into their vital contributions.

The Secret Journals captured these human moments alongside the covert operations, reminding us that the Revolution was fought and supported by ordinary people doing extraordinary things.

#AmericanRevolution #ContinentalCongress #CharlesThomson #SecretJournals #DeclarationOfIndependence #RevolutionaryWar #America250 #HistoricalFiction #FoundingFathers #CarryingIndependence

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

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

Mary House: Recognized as Female Patriot of the American Revolution

March 27, 2024 By Karen A. Chase

During this Women’s History Month, and ahead of the nation’s 250th celebrations, I have the great fortune of announcing a new Revolutionary female Patriot. I spearheaded an application with the National Society Daughters of the American Revolution (NSDAR) to prove a new female American Revolutionary-era Patriot.

Mary House owned and operated a boarding house in Philadelphia, the House Inn. Because she paid taxes on the inn, her support tax directly helped fund the Revolutionary war. Just two blocks from the famous State House, where Revolution was debated and the Declaration of Independence signed, the inn was a respected political hub, frequented by familiar founding fathers.

In this press release issued by NSDAR, Pamela Wright, NSDAR President General and the National Society’s volunteer elected CEO, says, “We are thrilled to add Mary House to our list of verified female Patriots. As we approach our nation’s 250th birthday, DAR members across the country are concentrating on sharing the stories of these amazing Americans, helping contemporary U.S. citizens understand the relevancy of Patriots to our lives today. As a female entrepreneur myself, I am inspired by the story of Mrs. House.”

The star on this map shows the location of the House Inn. To red outline to the left is the State House. The red outline down and to the right, is the Arch Street Quaker Burial ground where Mary House was buried.

The House Inn hosted Thomas Jefferson and Other Founders

Mary House was a wise entrepreneur. After her husband died, the widow established the boarding house, which quickly became known for what was then called “fine entertainments.” It offered quality lodgings, good food and refreshments, and above all an atmosphere that encouraged convivial engagement. It quickly attracted founding fathers familiar to us now. Silas Deane, James Madison, and Thomas Jefferson. Mary recognized that congressmen visits to Philadelphia would increase as Revolution rumbled through the colonies. Consequently, she wisely moved her already established House Inn closer to the action, to Fifth and Market Streets. Like the famed City Tavern, the House Inn was a gathering place for end-of-day political discourse over dinner and drinks.

Finding Mary House and Proving Her as Patriot

Although I spearheaded the search and the NSDAR application, the journey to validate Mary House’s Patriot status was a collaborative effort. It took multiple years and involved more than 15 individuals across five NSDAR chapters and three states, along with additional historians and translators. To submit an application for patriot status for Mary House, we found and proved lineage to a living descendant. That descendant is also related to two other significant figures: Jefferson and the subject of what I call my Eliza Project.

Mary House’s Daughter, Eliza Trist, Went West & Kept a Journal

Mary House is significant in her own right as a supporter of the Cause and an entrepreneur. She is also the mother of Eliza House Trist—a woman who traveled west in 1783, two decades before Lewis and Clark. Eliza Trist kept this journal for Thomas Jefferson. Trist met Jefferson when he lodged at the House Inn. The two became significant in each others lives, and long after her westward journey, Eliza Trist’s grandson married Thomas Jefferson’s granddaughter. Consequently, this new NSDAR member on this application, is related to House, Trist, and Jefferson.

To be frank, I feel like we’ve hit the NSDAR’s version of a quadfecta or superfecta. Myself, and this incredible network of genealogists and historians, have correctly proven four positions significant to the NSDAR. New female Patriot. New Female Explorer. New member. And all connected to Thomas Jefferson.

The only known portrait of Eliza House Trist. From the Ledger book of William Bache, National Portrait Gallery.

What will the Patriot Status Achieve?

Mary House was buried in Philadelphia, in the Quaker Arch Street burial ground, which was built over in the late 1800s. Eliza Trist is buried at Monticello. Neither woman has a gravestone, and their contributions have never been granted state historical markers. As I mentioned in the press release, “The goal is to ensure each of these women has a grave marker and historical recognition… In honor of the 250th, we are striving to broaden the narrative we tell about the founding of this country. Eliza and Mary matter. Who we tell our origin stories about matters so more of us can envision ourselves contributing to our future.”

The Permission slip provided by the Quakers to bury Mary House in the Arch Street grounds.

To learn more about Eliza House Trist

I am producing a more comprehensive and widely-accessible narrative for Mary House and Eliza Trist. For now, you can learn more about Eliza House Trist’s journey when you pre-order a copy of The Travel Journal of Eliza House Trist, 1783-84. It’s a brand new transcription, with a brief introduction. For the first time, her journal is replicated as she originally wrote it. In this beautifully hardbound book, is an all new introduction and a map of her journey. The book publishes April 15th.

Guest Post: Michael L. Ross – Washington’s Drummer Boy

June 7, 2022 By Karen A. Chase

The Revolutionary War didn’t start in Concord or even Boston—it had its beginnings earlier and more widespread than what appears in your seventh-grade history book. One of those beginnings was the Pine Tree Riot (or White Pine Rebellion) in New Hampshire. And one of its youngest participants would one day meet Washington.

What was the Pine Tree Riot?

The Crown claimed that white pine trees in colonial forests were the property of the Crown because of their use as masts on Royal Navy ships. The sawyers (those who made their living working timber) in New Hampshire disagreed, resulting in one of the first fights in the Colonies.

What started the Pine Tree Riot?

One of the leaders among the sawyers, Ebenezer Mudgett, had been arrested days before for possession of white pine logs without the Crown’s mark.

The sawmills banded together and arrested the local Crown sheriff, surprising him in bed early in the morning. The sheriff grabbed his pistols, but when momentarily distracted he was overcome by the mob, his horse’s tail clipped, and he was run out of the county.

Muggeridge was also a ringleader in the rebellion. He and his adopted son, Billy Simpson, fled the county for a time in fear of redcoat retribution.

The account of the event appeared in the New Hampshire Gazette, on April 24, 1772. The event and Billy will be featured in my upcoming book, A Drummer Boy for Washington.

White Pine Rebellion as reported by the New Hampshire Gazette

Billy Simpson Beyond the Riot

Early in the American Revolution, Billy Simpson became a member of George Washington’s Honor Guard, a group charged with defending Washington in battles. Billy met Washington as a protégé of Nathaniel Folsom, a friend of Mudgett. Simpson was among the youngest of the 180 members of the Guard, serving as a drummer boy. At the time Billy joined, he was only twelve.

Drummer boys did not have a glamorous life. They performed all the drudge work, had to attend school in off-hours, and were in the thick of battle with no weapons (and a rather loud instrument drawing attention to themselves). The Guard, and Billy, were in every battle with Washington until it was disbanded in 1783.

Washington's Drummer Boy — Illustration commissioned from **Martins Isaiah Ajogi** of Billy and George Washington

About Michael L. Ross

Michael L. Ross is a lover of history and great stories. A retired software engineer turned author. The Search was his second book in the Across the Great Divide series. Find him and his books online at HistoricalNovelsRUs.

Historic Bartram’s Gardens in Winter

December 7, 2021 By Karen A. Chase

In late November, I had the good fortune of touring Bartram’s Gardens in Philadelphia, PA—a 50-acre garden in existence since 1728. The oldest surviving botanic garden in the US, the sloping and tiered lands on the western banks of the Schuylkill River were home to John Bartram—a botanist, collector, and explorer—and his son, William Bartram. Their garden was a source for seeds and plants for many of America’s founders including Washington, Jefferson, and Madison. My tour was for research for my next historical novel, and specifically to learn what those gardens looked like in 1787 when James Madison and others visited the gardens during the Constitutional Convention .

Why tour historic gardens in winter?

Now, before you go believing I’m nuts for touring a garden during winter (rather than July when Madison visited) such off-season tours mean fewer tourists and an occasional late bloom/fall burst of color. In our case, the oldest Ginkgo tree in America and the Tea-Oil Camillia, were giving a brilliant show.

The best reason has to do with wandering with a guide. Because there is less to do in winter, the curator—Joel T. Fry, who has been with the gardens since the late 90s—seemed to have all the time in the world to help me prune away the gardens as they are “now” in order to visualize them as William Bartram did “then.”

Bartram’s Gardens then and now

When the British moved through Philadelphia during the Revolution, troops built a floating bridge across the Schuylkill River east of town. What had been a ferry system from Grey’s Landing just few miles from Independence Hall, became a series of floating planks permitting visitors to land just a tad north of Bartram’s.

I wish I could say the view shown in this historic 1838 drawing (Charles P Dare, Fitzgibbon & Van Ness publishers) was equal to the view now. Today, one approaches Bartram’s via a graffiti-strewn bridge, and enters from the less-attractive back lane.

Back in 1787, however, a visitor would have first seen the tiered beds of plants—collected from various states as far south as Florida—rising up to the main house (like the photo above). Greens, tubers, and other edibles would have been planted closest to the house in the kitchen gardens. Built by John Bartram, the house was added onto many times, but the architecturally arresting structure remains.

The numerous trees scattering the property now would likely have been in a specific grove to one side of the house. That Ginkgo tree? In 1787, it was just two years old, so likely shorter than me, and in a different location. It now towers more than two stories tall. You can see an original William Bartram illustration of the garden map, on the Bartram Garden’s website here.

An incomplete archive of plantings

What was planted where and when by William, however, is difficult to ascertain. Although Bartram’s sold seeds and plants, “we don’t really have garden records from that time,” Joel shrugged as we chewed on some of the spinach miraculously still growing and plump despite a few frosts. “We don’t know if the records were thrown out when the family later lost the property, or if perhaps the Bartrams weren’t that good at keeping records in the first place.”

Personally, I find the latter easy to believe. John and William both seemed so enchanted by illustrating, collecting, exploring, and experimenting with plants and seeds, I can see them failing to write it all down at the end of a day’s digging. Their minds were likely their libraries and journals. Although Williams botanical illustrations are in some ways a series of singular plant records, like his study of Franklinia—a tree named for Franklin, and the garden’s signature tree.

A room inside the Bartram’s home. None of the furnishings are original either.

William Bartram’s illustration of the flower of the Franklinia Tree.

Visitors post-Revolution might also have seen a working cider mill along the banks. Again, the Bartrams papers have no record of it, although a reference to it appears in a letter from a visitor named Manasseh Cutler of Massachusetts. “[Bartram’s] cider-press is singular; the channel for the stone wheel to run in for grinding the apples is cut out of a solid rock; the bottom of the press is a solid rock, and has a square channel to carry off the juice, from which it is received into a stone reservoir or vat.”

Joel and my spouse, Ted, permitting me a photo for size perspective.

What Captivated Me Most in Bartram’s Garden

“What we’re doing is what William loved to do with visitors in the garden.” About half way through our tour—many stories in, the wind picking up, and much history shared—Joel smiled as he gazed across Bartram’s garden glittering with fall leaves. “We’re walking the paths and sharing ideas about the plants and other events of the time. It’s a chance to learn together.”

Nothing warmed my heart more on that cold November day. Thanks to Joel, in my next novel I expect you’ll find my protagonist Henry (along with other characters real and fictional) sharing ideas while wandering those same paths with William.

I urge you to visit Bartram’s Garden, and not just at the height of spring or summer, so hopefully you will be captured by this historic place, too. Just a 15-minute drive from Philadelphia, it’s a 50-acre respite for the city-weary soul Chasing Histories.

The view from the back of the house, with a new favorite vine—cup-and-saucer—gracing the left-hand edge of the walkway.

The American Revolution and the Shawnee at Fort Pitt, This Week in 1776

October 31, 2019 By Karen A. Chase

The Shawnee, Colonel Morgan, and the Treaty of 1776

Take a read through pretty much any high school history textbook, and you’ll find what I initially did about the Shawnee in 1776. They, like all Native Americans, were supposedly choosing sides between the Colonists and the British. Take a visit to many museums, like the Fort Pitt museum, and you’ll see over-told tales of the Shawnee capturing white settlers. Clearly they do not know about Colonel Morgan, Gregory Schaaf, or the treaty of 1776.

Who was Colonel Morgan?

Colonel Morgan was the Indian Commissioner for the Colonies in 1776. He was also good friend to the Delaware, the Iroquois, and he spoke a multitude of languages—so endeared was he to the Indians, that they gave him nicknames like “Council House” and “Brother Tamanend.” In the fall of 1776, he called a treaty of all Indian Nations to meet in Fort Pitt to discuss the issue at hand. Land.

The Native Americans Came to Fort Pitt in 1776 to Discuss Land Rights

The Treaty of Fort Stanwix in 1768 had drawn a dividing line down the middle of the land at Fort Pitt. The east belonged to the British and west of that line belonged to the Native Americans. When the colonists separated from Britain, that treaty went kaput, and the land was once again up for grabs. Additionally, the land hadn’t been yet surveyed that far west, so it wasn’t certain if Fort Pitt sat upon Pennsylvania or Virginia soil. And to make matters worse, George Washington himself was speculating on land—including about 1500 acres in and around Fort Pitt.

To the Shawnee, and many of the Indian nations, it was their sacred hunting ground. Just as it always had been. So over 650 Native Americans from more than six nations came to Fort Pitt to meet with Morgan, this last week of October, 1776. That included Netawatees, grandfather to the Delaware, who was nearing 100.

How Do We Know The First American-Indian Treaty was in 1776?

We can thank both Colonel Morgan and Gregory Schaaf. Schaaf was working on a dissertation back in the 1980s. He was convinced that there was more to this October 1776 treaty than had previously been discovered. I had seen only one line about it, and I hunted, too. I found Gregory Schaaf, and Gregory Schaaf had been persistent. After knocking on the door of several of Morgan’s descendants, one of them called him to say… wait for it… “here’s a packet of letters and documents I came across in an old chest.”

It included a 73-page journal written by Colonel Morgan, the Indian Agent who had invited everyone to Fort Pitt. An article in People Magazine, described Schaaf’s find as “The Mother Load.”

It was to me, too. The treaty, and the results from it, were described by Morgan. Schaaf transcribed the journal, added his interpretations, and I used it and other sources to frame the facts of the treaty in my historical novel.

So, What Was the Result of the Treaty of 1776?

Keep in mind that treaties like this were often discussions, from which written appeals or pleas were developed. Not always were lines drawn, and land divided. In this case, the Shawnee, along with the Iroquois, the Munsee, the Delawares, the Mohicans, and other nations, drew up a request for Congress, submitting a plea they hoped would resonate with the men who had drafted the Declaration of Independence. The Indians asked for a right to political sovereignty, to religious freedom, and a fair piece or payment for their tribal hunting grounds.

And in exchange for agreeing to stay out of the “White Man’s War”—choosing the side of neither the colonists nor the British—the Native Americans asked for just three rights in exchange. Three little ideals they knew the colonists would find familiar:

“Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.”

That puts our founding document in a new light now, doesn’t it? What a different world we would live in now if, back then, the ideals of one group had been expanded and designed to include the others.

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Reader Insights: To read more about the Treaty and what happened beyond 1776, stay tuned or pick up my novel, CARRYING INDEPENDENCE. I’m forever grateful to historians like Gregory Schaaf and Colin Calloway who helped me with my research, and who are striving to tell the Indian story faithfully in part by constantly seeking new information.

I think it’s also fair that Native Americans be given the opportunity and the means to tell their own stories. As such, a portion of the proceeds of my novel are being donated to the DAR American Indian Scholarship Fund. I hope you’ll donate, too.

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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.

Time Travelers Weekend

September 17, 2019 By Karen A. Chase

Free Admission to Richmond Area Historic Sites

For one weekend, September 21–22, folks in my town of Richmond, Virginia can travel back in time. In a biannual tradition, you can get a “passport” and wander through 19 of the area’s historic homes, museums, churches, and more for FREE.

Buckle up. It’s not too often you can travel with adventure through 400 years in one weekend, no time machine required. Talk about Chasing Histories! So which historic sites are included? The list is below.

Participating sites

The list is long, and all are within an easy drive in the Richmond Region.

Agecroft Hall & Garden
The American Civil War Museum’s White House of the Confederacy
The Branch Museum of Architecture and Design
The Chesterfield Museum and Historic Jail
Chimborazo Medical Museum (Richmond National Battlefield Park)
Clark-Palmore House
Courtney Road Service Station
Dabbs House Museum
Deep Run Schoolhouse
Historic St. John’s Church
The John Marshall House
Magnolia Grange
The Edgar Allan Poe Museum
Maggie L. Walker National Historic Site
Maymont
Meadow Farm Museum at Crump Park
Virginia Randolph House
The Valentine and Wickham House
The Valentine First Freedom Center

Get your Passport

For more information, and to download your passport, visit the Valentine History’s Museum’s Website. Or call 804-649-0711 for more information.

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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.