One of the books I have referenced while writing my novel about the Declaration is American Scripture: Making the Declaration of Independence by Pauline Maier. Fairly early into my research I found her book, and when I still had a question or two I e-mailed her. Within a day, she responded.
Her enthusiasm will be missed. In her book, she writes of being able to see the Declaration in Washington for the first time. “Curiosity more than anything sent me rushing through the hot summer air across the mall to the National Archives.”
By Karen A. ChaseThe Dunlap Broadside first printed on July 4th. From the held at the Yale University Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library.
As you fire up the BBQ and ready your fireworks, you should realize you are technically not celebrating “independence,” but celebrating the Declaration of Independence. Here’s why.
The day the founding fathers voted to approve the resolution for independence was actually July 2nd, 1776. On that day, Americans agreed to kiss the Crown goodbye. (They didn’t agree unanimously–note how that word is missing on the above image–until July 15th though, because it took New York a while to agree to the resolution.) After July 2nd, came the drafting of a formal declaration which Congress debated and edited for a couple of days. By the time they had approved the document, it was July 4th. That’s the date that appeared on the first printed copies of the Declaration, also known as “broadsides.” (A sheet of paper printed on one side.) There were about 200 or so of those printed by John Dunlap of Philadelphia.
All along we’ve celebrated independence on July 4th, because that’s the date the public first saw printed on the broadsides. There were no signatures on these copies, because they were typeset. The big Declaration of Independence, the parchment most of us recognize with the signatures at the bottom, didn’t come until later.
As for those original 200 broadsides, there were 24 known copies up until 1989. Then a painting was bought for $4 at a flea market for the frame. Behind the canvas was a 25th copy. It sold for $2.4 million. A 26th copy was “found” in the National Archives is Kew, England in 1990.
By Karen A. ChaseA photo of the flag outside UVA, Jefferson’s University, taken in May. At half-staff, to honor American policemen killed in the line of duty. – Photo by Andrew Eddy.
When Francis Scott Key wrote the Star Spangled Banner, it was because he was inspired. Through bombs bursting over Fort McHenry in Baltimore, he watched from a distant ship and waited for a sign that the British had not defeated the Americans. For twenty-five hours he waited, until finally “through the dawn’s early light” he saw a sign of hope. The flag–then consisting of 8 red and 7 white stripes, and 15 stars–still waving. Tall. Strong. Free. He took a letter from his pocket and wrote the poem on the back that would become the American National Anthem.
Whenever I see the American flag, I have often thought of his words. The poem sums up what our flag should represent; a celebration of not just survival, but our ability to thrive. The flag is a promise. At full-staff, and even half-staff. When I have seen a flag at half-staff, I’ve often wondered “whose life are we celebrating today?” Which long-term giver, social-reformer, or public official has died who helped make America better?
But not lately.
Now when I see a flag at half-staff, I worry. “What happened?” “What tragedy will I see on the news now?” I have seen our flag too often at half-staff, and it saddens me. Has our flag become a signal not of hope, but of our failures? Does it represent lives cut short? Terror? Immense grief for more Americans unable to fulfill the promise and the freedom our veterans helped to secure?
We can do better. We must do better.
So on this flag day, I’ll hope you’ll share the full poem by Francis Scott Key with your family. Tell them the story. I hope we as a nation can focus on the fact it should fly “o’er the land of the free and the home of the brave?” We can not simply sing the words. Our actions must raise our flag until it is gallantly streaming.
This week I was very happily visited by Andrew Eddy, a fellow writer from Provence featured in my book, Bonjour 40. While he was here we went to Charlottesville, visiting Thomas Jefferson’s Monticello, and quite naturally, we hit an overwhelming number of bookstores. In a rare and antiquarian bookshop, I found a lovely copy of Ann Patchett’s book What Now?. Andrew and I went to the desk to pay, and both of us stood silent and mortified. There behind the counter was an owner of the store, with a knife in hand, slicing stone-engraved, hand-colored images of Medieval knights like the one above out of three antique books.
“It doesn’t bother you cutting up old books?” I gently asked. The man just shrugged as he tried to rationalize his craft. “It’s not as if it’s rare, dozens of colleges and bookstores have these… They’re too expensive for people to buy now because no one collects books… If I can sell the images for $95 a piece, I make more than having a book on my shelf I can’t sell… It’s what I need to do.”
I felt sad for the historians and future generations who will never see those books. I felt bad for the illustrations of the knights separated from one another, and from the words that explained them. I have an image of a book collector–ten, fifty or even one hundred years from now–cursing that stupid bookseller for tearing apart such a special book, as they struggle to recollect the images.
And what if it is rare? It reminds me of the story of the last man on Easter Island who cut down the last tree. It’s what I need to do, he probably said. And then their civilization died, and they had no way to make books to explain themselves!
So there were Andrew and I on one side of the counter, knowing we are pouring time and energy into building books we hope will be cherished for generations, while on the other side the books of our predecessors were slaughtered for parts. Bottom line, it wasn’t about the books, it was about bottom line. I think both Andrew and I would rather be on this side of the counter struggling to be brave knights creating, not destroying the words.
And as for that comment on the three books being rare, I’ll let you be the judge. The set he was slicing up was from 1824. A collection on ancient armor. The sets range in price from $3000-$7500 on ABE Books.
I love working with a freelance editor for three reasons. First, a good editor not only points out where things need to improve but where I’ve done things well. I can learn to be a better writer from my own writing. Second, she sees the forest where I’ve seen trees. Reviewing it with her uncluttered eyes, she helps me focus on the central vein of my story that I should follow, and from which I have sometimes strayed. Third, she helps to highlight where my details are not furthering the story, but tripping up the reader, and taking them from that central path.
When nearly 300 pages of my manuscript returned from this latest round of editing, there were many good comments and naturally some areas that need some refinement. One of the issues was about the name of my protagonist’s horse. The name was Llamrei. “A name like this is tough to read,” she had noted. My editor was stumbling over it and it was dragging down the narrative. When she and I spoke on the phone, I admitted that many times I even typed it wrong. The name of the horse, agreeably had to change.
So I looked for historic horse names that were more easily pronounced. I found and chose “Bayard,” which means reddish-brown. Simple enough, but I also looked up the history of the name. The story of this horse goes all the way back to a twelfth century French legend, part of which according to Wikipedia includes:
“Bayard is ceded to Charlemagne who, as punishment for the horse’s exploits, has a large stone tied to Bayard’s neck and the horse pushed into the river; Bayard however smashes the stone with his hooves and escapes to live forever more in the woods.”
Here’s the strange thing… Many times in my writing to this point, the character and his horse are required to cross waterways, and each time I wrote about how the horse became frantic to the point that it needed to be blindfolded. No reason. Just wanted him to be that way. But now, it’s as if the horse’s new name explains why he is always afraid to cross rivers in my story… But I created this horse’s characteristic before I found the name. Before I read about the legend… Odd, right?
Did I know about Bayard somehow? Was he a part of me? Did I know the legend? Past life? This has happened more than once that details woven into my story somehow connect with history before I have fully learned the history.
It makes me wonder, is my historical fiction story not fiction at all? Could it be true…? {Twilight Zone music here.}
Other legends of the horse include that he could expand to the size required for the number of riders, and that he could speak English. Okay, so not ALL of the tales seem to fit with my writing. (A public domain image.)
In honor of the last day of my Eiffel Tower necklace give away, I pay homage to this fabulous landmark, originally constructed for the 1889 Exposition in Paris. Despite the fact that all of its metal could be melted down to fit a 125-meter-square base less than 2.5 inches high, it took two years to build.
I’m especially thrilled that someone had the smarts, and we had the technology, to photograph the construction process. All these images come from Wikimedia Commons and are in the Public Domain. Click on an image to enlarge and scroll through the gallery. Enjoy!
A few more Eiffel facts:
~ Thomas Edison visited it in 1889.
~ Radio transmitters were fitted in WWI to jam German communications.
~ There used to be a pâtisserie on the second level.
~ Gustave Eiffel entertained in an apartment on the third level.
~ 72 names are engraved on the tower–all French notable people.
~ It’s painted every seven years with up to 60 tonnes of paint.
~ When it opened, the lifts weren’t operable.
~ It took visitors and hour by stairs to ascend the tower.
~ The original spiral stairs were removed in the 1980s.
Korbella is helping me give away an Eiffel Tower necklace made from that spiral staircase to one lucky reader. Korbella’s Charmes de Paris necklace has a retail value of $525. This sterling silver necklace is hand-finished, with a heart-shaped Swarovski CZ drop, a charm in the shape of Paris’ famous landmark. Enter before midnight tonight, February 8th.
I am thrilled to announce that beginning today, I will have a monthly column on the website Shelf Pleasure–a destination spot for women who love reading. My column is called Will Travel For Words. Once a month, I’ll share with you my travels and explorations in my quest for the best story and the best research. If I take a jaunt for anything book related, you can come along.
This month, I take readers up the road, and back in time, to George Wythe’s house for research on my novel about the Declaration of Indendence. We’ll venture into his study in Colonial Williamsburg. So, come on over, take a read, and travel with me to find just the right words. Click here, to go there.
Please forgive my slightly longer word-count on my last blog before the New Year… I must share a thought or two…
Many of my readers, friends and family know I’ve been working on a new novel about the Declaration of Independence. Through my research, I’ve come to learn about two of the lesser-known, yet great founding fathers: George Wythe of Virginia, and Oliver Wolcott of Connecticut. Both of them voted for revolution and signed the document. Before the signing, and throughout the war, they played very different roles, pouring their talents, connections, hearts and minds into very different vessels for “the Cause.”
Oliver Wolcott, in an ironic story, watched as rebel soldiers in New York pulled down a massive iron statue of King George III. He had it carted back to Connecticut, and with the help of family and neighbors, they melted down the king and poured him into molds to make over 40,000 musket balls. All of those cartridges went on to be fired by the Continental Army upon the British during the war.
In Virginia, George Wythe, a professor at William & Mary, taught the man who wrote the Declaration. Thomas Jefferson studied under Wythe in Williamsburg, as did James Monroe, Henry Clay, and our longest-serving Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, John Marshall. Everything that Wythe had learned of Greek history, of Euripides, of Francis Bacon and of John Locke’s beliefs about life and liberty was poured into his students. After signing the Declaration himself, Wythe fought for the abolishment of slavery, designed the Virginia state seal, and more. But it was through Jefferson as his pen, that Wythe gave America the Declaration in 1776.
As many know, that one piece of parchment not only helped free America from oppression, our Declaration became the gold standard from which dozens of declarations for freedom have sprung. France used sections for their Declaration of the Rights of Man and Citizens (1784), as did Haiti (1804), Chili (1818), New Zealand (1835), Texas (1836), Czechoslovakia (1918), and even Vietnam (1945), among others.
Very few people besides historians (and my DAR ladies) seem to know much about George Wythe, and even fewer have heard of Oliver Wolcott, with only a small handful ever having heard the King George statue story. The world knows about Thomas Jefferson, and his statue keeps watch over our nation’s capitol. Each year, over two million people visit the National Archives in D.C. to see the original Declaration of Independence. Seldom has anyone given thought to the musket balls, except long-dead relatives who mourned the lives of those British soldiers who never returned home. So, what can we learn from our own history?
We have choice in life. Into which vessel will we pour ourselves? Will it be into a musket ball or an education? History has shown us that while weapons can help a country win a battle, an education will absolutely free the world. This truth, is self-evident.
My heart mourns for the students and teachers of Sandy Hook Elementary and their families. Sadly, those little ones were not yet of the age to have learned about the Declaration. However, the education being shared in that classroom and others before the tragedy took place… that is the firepower that will make America proud, strong and free. That is the weapon in which we should invest the most if we are to secure our future.
I hope you’ll forward this on until we all learn that rights are best freed with our minds. Not might.
I wish you a peaceful, thoughtful, and loving holiday. See you in the New Year.
“The pen is mightier than the sword,” said Edward Bulwer-Lytton. The above painting by Jean Leon Gerome Ferris is of the drafting of the Declaration of Independence featuring Thomas Jefferson (right), Benjamin Franklin (left), and John Adams (center). The painting is currently located at the Virginia Historical Society here in Richmond.
By Karen A. ChaseThat’s me on the left receiving my reading from Jan Thomas. She jokingly laughed at the idea of putting a “Tarot Reader In” sign in her living room window. Strange how that lighting turned out in this photo. – Photo by Karen Rankin
BOO! In honor of Halloween, a very tiny glimpse into Tarot cards. I was recently at a book club, and a few of us unexpectedly received a reading by the host, Jan Thomas. My first ever. She asked me to provide a specific topic or concern, and she dealt the cards and told the tale she saw. Two things have haunted me most.
First, the artistry. Tarot cards date back to the fifteenth century, and many decks are stunning. Imagery is often filled with old world or art nouveau styling, and for illustrators of sci-fi or fantasy, I imagine they’ll be charmed. (That’s not to say there aren’t modern versions, like these featuring the Simpsons.) Jan’s cards are a Rider Waite Smith deck. “First published in 1908… there are several editions and I was using the one call Universal (has to do with the re-coloring of the deck).”
Secondly, a couple of the cards she pulled were a relief. One was The Knight of Pentacles (see image below). This card has layered meanings, but she described it as a knight who is serious, on solid ground, and holding a coin, so the dreams he looks out over, although a bit away, will be a fruitful reality. The last card she revealed, on the bottom of the deck, was death. That’s good news because it’s the furthest away from my dream, and me personally. Whew!
So will my reading turn out to be a trick, or a treat? I guess I shall have to “stay tuned” to find out. Muwahahaha.
A shot of the cards that were pulled for me with the two cards I mentioned circled. Go ahead, Tarot readers, tell me what else yee kin see in ’em….. – Photo by Kelly Fitzgerald
I was off last week from the blog, gallivanting around the northeastern states for personal vacation time mixed with research for my historical fiction novel about the American Revolution. The highlight of the research portion of the trip was undoubtedly a stop made in Philadelphia. I had planned for a one-on-one tour with an historian, Bill Ochester, to determine what was where in 1776.
Imagine my delight to discover Bill plays Ben Franklin. He plays him at reenactments, readings of the Declaration and Constitution, and various school presentations among others. As if with a paint brush in his hands that removed the years, he walked me through Philadelphia as it may have been in 1776. In the words of Elton John, “It’s Philadelphia Freedom. I love, love, loved it. Yes I do!”
I learned in 1776:
• The whole of town was about eight by six city blocks in total.
• Houses were built on plots of about one acre and surrounded by gardens.
• Church bells were rung often, sometimes to ward off lighting and evil.
• The streets were swept to keep them clean.
• Elfreth’s Alley existed. Still does. It is the oldest intact residential block in the country.
• Taverns abounded for food, coffee, drink and to conduct business. (Some estimates say one per every 125 people.)
• There were 30,000 people living in what became the capital of the states. (=240 taverns.)
• The tower on Christ’s Church was funded by Ben Franklin. Not because he was religious, but so he could have unlimited access to perform electrical experiments. Shocking.
Click on the thumbnails for enlargements and descriptions.
