Have you ever heard of the popular saying, “No good deed goes unpunished?”
I wonder if there is a reverse to that, especially when it comes to stumbling into history?
Earlier in June, my uncle needed to go out of town and wanted someone to watch his house and two cats. He resides outside of Wilmington, Delaware. Thinking mid-June would be a good time to catch some of the historical sites in Philadelphia on the brink of the 250th in July, and with World Cup soccer games being played in the same city, even better.
I planned to go into the “City of Brotherly Love” one day, but thought the other day I would just drive around Wilmington and New Castle and see what I could discover. A day with no set plans. And that is when I stumbled into “Separation Day” in New Castle.
On June 12, 1776 in Williamsburg, Virginia, the Fifth Virginia Convention took a momentous step in defining new American liberty. The Virginia Declaration of Rights stands as one of the most influential political documents in American history. Adopted on June 12, 1776, it established a comprehensive statement of individual liberties and principles of government at a pivotal moment in the struggle for independence from Great Britain. Written primarily by George Mason, the Declaration articulated ideas about natural rights, popular sovereignty, freedom of the press, religious liberty, and the limits of governmental power. Its impact extended far beyond Virginia, influencing the United States Declaration of Independence, the United States Constitution, and the Bill of Rights.
The Virginia Declaration of Rights emerged during a period of revolutionary change. Colonists increasingly believed that British policies violated their rights as Englishmen and threatened their political freedoms. In response, revolutionary leaders sought not only independence but also a clear statement of the principles upon which a new government would rest. The Virginia Declaration of Rights provided such a foundation, becoming a landmark in the development of democratic governance and constitutional liberty.
Virginia played a leading role in this revolutionary process. The colony possessed many influential political thinkers who believed that government existed to serve the people and protect their rights. When Virginia’s Fifth Convention met in Williamsburg in the spring of 1776, delegates recognized the need to define the principles that would guide the formation of a new state government. Before drafting a constitution, they decided to establish a declaration of rights that would set limits on governmental authority and affirm the liberties of citizens.
George Mason, a respected Virginia planter and political philosopher, was tasked with preparing the document. Drawing upon Enlightenment ideas, English constitutional traditions, and colonial experiences, Mason produced a draft that would become the Virginia Declaration of Rights. Born in 1725, Mason was a wealthy landowner and self-educated scholar who developed strong views regarding individual liberty and responsible government.
George Mason, Courtesy Encyclopedia of Virginia
Unlike some of his contemporaries, Mason was deeply concerned about the concentration of political power. He believed that governments derived their authority from the consent of the governed and that citizens possessed inherent rights that no government could legitimately violate. His ideas reflected the influence of Enlightenment thinkers such as John Locke, who argued that individuals possessed natural rights to life, liberty, and property.
Mason’s draft underwent revisions by the Convention, but its essential principles remained intact. His work established a model for future declarations and constitutional protections. Although Mason later refused to sign the United States Constitution because it lacked a bill of rights, his ideas eventually shaped the first ten amendments to the Constitution.
The Virginia Declaration of Rights contains sixteen sections, each addressing specific political and civil principles. Together, they create a coherent philosophy of government centered on liberty and popular sovereignty.
The first article is perhaps the most famous. It declares that all men are by nature equally free and independent and possess inherent rights that cannot be surrendered when entering society. These rights include the enjoyment of life and liberty, the means of acquiring property, and the pursuit of happiness and safety.
This statement represented a significant departure from traditional notions of government based on inherited privilege or monarchy. Instead, it asserted that rights existed before government and that government existed primarily to protect those rights.
The concept of natural rights became a cornerstone of American political thought. Thomas Jefferson echoed these ideas in the Declaration of Independence when he wrote that all men are created equal and endowed with unalienable rights.
Another fundamental principle is the idea that political power originates with the people. The Declaration states that government is instituted for the common benefit, protection, and security of the people, nation, or community.
This concept, known as popular sovereignty, rejects the doctrine of divine-right monarchy. According to the Declaration, rulers derive their authority from the consent of the governed rather than from hereditary privilege or divine appointment. If a government becomes destructive of the public welfare, the people have the right to reform, alter, or abolish it.
These ideas helped justify the American Revolution and became essential features of democratic government. The Declaration emphasizes the importance of dividing governmental authority among different branches. It argues that the legislative, executive, and judicial powers should be separate and distinct.
The purpose of this separation is to prevent tyranny and protect liberty. By ensuring that no single branch accumulates excessive power, the government can maintain accountability and preserve individual rights. This principle later became a central feature of both state constitutions and the United States Constitution.
The Declaration asserts that elections should be free and that citizens who have a permanent interest in and attachment to the community possess the right to vote and participate in government. Free elections are essential to representative government because they enable citizens to hold leaders accountable and ensure that governmental authority reflects the will of the people.
Several sections of the Declaration protect individuals against arbitrary government action. These provisions guarantee due process of law, prohibit excessive bail and cruel punishments, and affirm the right to a fair and impartial trial. Such protections reflect concerns about abuses of power by government officials. By requiring legal procedures and impartial justice, the Declaration seeks to safeguard individual liberty against arbitrary authority.
These principles later influenced the Fifth, Sixth, and Eighth Amendments to the United States Constitution. The Declaration proclaims that freedom of the press is one of the great bulwarks of liberty and can never be restrained except by despotic governments. This provision recognizes the importance of an independent press in informing citizens, exposing abuses of power, and promoting public debate. The protection of press freedom became an essential component of democratic society and influenced the First Amendment.
George Mason’s hand written copy of the Virginia Declaration of Rights, Courtesy Library of Virginia
The final section of the Declaration addresses religion and conscience. It states that religion can be directed only by reason and conviction rather than force or violence and that all individuals are entitled to the free exercise of religion.
Although the original language was somewhat limited, it represented a major step toward religious freedom. James Madison later strengthened these principles in Virginia’s Statute for Religious Freedom and in the First Amendment’s protections for religious liberty.
Thomas Jefferson drew heavily from Mason’s language and ideas when drafting the Declaration of Independence. The Declaration’s assertion that all men are by nature free and possess inherent rights closely parallels Jefferson’s statement that all men are created equal and endowed with unalienable rights. Similarly, the Virginia Declaration’s emphasis on government deriving its authority from the people and the right of citizens to alter or abolish oppressive governments appears prominently in the Declaration of Independence.
Perhaps the Declaration’s greatest legacy lies in its influence on the United States Bill of Rights. When delegates met at the Constitutional Convention in 1787, they created a new federal government but did not initially include a bill of rights. This omission concerned many Americans, including George Mason, who feared that the new government might threaten individual liberties.
The ensuing debate led to the adoption of the first ten amendments in 1791. James Madison, drawing heavily upon Virginia’s constitutional traditions, proposed amendments that reflected many principles found in Mason’s Declaration.
Examples include:
Freedom of speech, religion, press, and assembly.
Protection against unreasonable searches and seizures.
Guarantees of due process.
Rights to fair and speedy trials.
Prohibitions against excessive bail and cruel punishments.
The parallels between the Virginia Declaration and the Bill of Rights are unmistakable. Many of the liberties Americans enjoy today can be traced directly to Mason’s work.
Despite its significance, the Virginia Declaration of Rights contained important limitations and contradictions. Political participation was largely restricted to property-owning white males. Women, slaves, Native Americans, and many others were excluded from the political community envisioned by the document. These contradictions highlight the gap between revolutionary ideals and social realities. Over time, however, reformers and civil rights advocates invoked the Declaration’s principles to challenge inequality and expand the scope of liberty.
More than two centuries after its adoption, the Virginia Declaration of Rights remains a landmark in constitutional history. It was among the first modern documents to articulate a comprehensive set of individual rights and establish the principle that government exists to serve the people.
Its influence can be seen not only in American constitutional law but also in international human rights traditions. Documents such as the French Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen and later human rights instruments reflect similar commitments to liberty, equality, and popular sovereignty.
The Declaration’s enduring significance lies in its assertion that rights are inherent to human beings and that governments must respect and protect those rights. These principles continue to shape democratic societies around the world 250 years later.
Depicted in various paintings, still standing watch over Breed’s Hill, his name is synonymous with the heroic American defense of the earthen redoubt that graced the aforementioned hill. Although forced to evacuate the work when overwhelmed by the third British advance and out of ammunition, Prescott had shown his value as a competent battlefield leader. Especially of the militia.
Yet, as America approached the 250th anniversary of the country, there had not been a single dedicated biography that covered his entire life. Prescott is mentioned in plenty of great historical works on the battle, the region, and the lives of other patriots who fought that day. But the Massachusetts native deserved more. Entered Donald R. Ryan.
Ryan, a volunteer historian and guide for Boston National Historical Park, took on the task of researching, locating, and even contacting living descendants of Prescott. You can now hold in your hands and read his excellent work on this great military figure, best known for his role in one of the most iconic battles of the American Revolution.
Before you do get your copy and settle in to read, tune in on Sunday evening, as Ryan will appear on our popular “Rev War Revelry” to discuss his book. Emerging Revolutionary War will go live at 7 p.m. EDT. and stream to our Facebook page.
Cannot make the live program on Sunday evening? Don’t fret, the program will be posted to our podcast and YouTube channels in the days after. Either way, hope you tune in to learn about Col. Prescot!
Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes back guest historian Bjorn Bruckshaw
On a chilly but sunlit afternoon in Providence, smoke began to rise over Market Square—not from hearth fires meant to warm the town, but from a blaze built in defiance. As the smell of burning tar and tea drifted through the streets, cheers and shouts of defiance echoed through the square. Nearby, a man moved quickly from shop to shop, brush and lampblack in hand. One by one, he painted over a single word on storefront signs: TEA. This was no act carried out in secret. According to the Providence Gazette, he was “a spirited Son of Liberty,” and he worked in full view of the town as a crowd gathered around the growing fire.¹
Just beyond him, the protest had already begun.
Earlier that day, a town crier had moved through Providence announcing that a quantity of India tea would be burned in the Market Square that afternoon, calling upon “all true friends of their country, lovers of freedom, and haters of shackles and hand-cuffs” to assemble and cast the tea into the flames.² By the appointed hour, the square was filled. This was no spontaneous outburst. It was organized, deliberate, and intended to be seen.
At the center of the gathering, flames climbed upward as a barrel of tar was placed upon the fire. Into it were thrown not only tea—hundreds of pounds of it—but also printed copies of Lord North’s speech and other “obnoxious English papers.” ³ the destruction was more than economic protest. It was a public repudiation of British authority itself. And then came the moment that set Providence apart.
These were not men disguised as Mohawk Indians, shrouded in secrecy under the cover of night as in Boston. This was something different—an open, public act carried out in daylight. At its center stood the women of Providence, dressed in everyday clothing, without disguise, stepping forward with the same patriotism and candor to cast the tea into the flames before the gathered town.⁴
In that moment, the Providence Gazette captured one of the most remarkable features of the event, noting that the tea was “fed to the fire by the women of the town.”⁵ Women, long central to colonial resistance through boycotts and the management of household consumption, now stood in the public square, actively participating in the destruction itself. This was not quiet resistance confined to the home. It was visible, communal, and unmistakable.
The prominence of women in the Providence protest did not go unnoticed beyond Rhode Island. In Virginia, the event was reported in the Virginia Gazette, where the destruction of tea was described in strikingly gendered and satirical terms. The article referred to the event as the “funeral of Madam Souchong,” personifying the tea as a female figure while simultaneously reinforcing contemporary stereotypes about women.⁶ In doing so, the report transformed the protest into a symbolic spectacle, revealing how acts of resistance in one colony could be interpreted—and reshaped—by observers in another.
Rhode Island had already established itself as one of the most defiant colonies in British North America. Its long-standing resistance to imperial regulation, fueled by its maritime economy and frequent clashes with customs enforcement, made it a persistent source of frustration for British authorities. Loyalist observers took note. Writing during the conflict, Peter Oliver described resistance in New England as the work of “lawless men” driven by mob influence, portraying their actions as rooted in disorder rather than lawful opposition.⁷ British officials expressed similar concerns in the aftermath of the Gaspee Affair, viewing the destruction of the customs schooner as a “daring insult to the authority of the Crown” and evidence that resistance in Rhode Island had reached a dangerous level.⁸ In June 1772, that defiance became unmistakable when local patriots burned the Gaspee, a British vessel sent to enforce imperial law.
The British response only deepened colonial fears. Officials threatened to transport suspected participants to England for trial, raising concerns about the erosion of traditional rights and legal protections.⁹ In Rhode Island, the lesson was clear: British authority was not only intrusive but increasingly dangerous.
Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes back guest historian Michael Aubrecht
If one was to define the life and legacy of Colonel Johann Gottlieb Rall (Rahl) they may use the term “victim of circumstance.” His is the ironic tale of a military man, whose stubborn nature and bad luck resulted in an untimely death. As the commander of the Hessian Troops garrisoned at Trenton New Jersey, Rall was the unfortunate recipient of General George Washington’s surprise attack that followed his brilliant crossing of the Delaware River on Christmas night in 1776.
There have been many different versions of this story, but a reexamination of the events by modern military historians has yielded a more redeeming conclusion to Rall’s defeat. Whereas it was once believed that the Hessian troops were celebrating the holiday and simply too intoxicated to properly defend the garrison and themselves, experts now believe that Rall and a sober regiment of German soldiers may have underestimated the resolve of their adversaries.
One aspect of this story that hasn’t changed took place prior to the attack…
A young boy had been given a spy report from a local Loyalist with directions to deliver it to a Hessian colonel who was in occupation of the City of Trenton. The note, written in English, was intended to inform the commander that the Continental Army was crossing the river and planning to attack. It is said that the colonel did not want to be interrupted during his Chess game (some say cards), so he put the unread note in his pocket. The story concludes with the note being found, still in his pocket, unopened, after he died in battle.
As both a Chess and Rev-War aficionado, I decided to do a little research into this specific part of the story to see what information was available. What I found was completely different than I had originally anticipated.
Emerging Revolutionary War is pleased to welcome guest author Marianne Holdzkom, author of Remembering John Adams: The Second President in History, Memory and Popular Culture.
Several years ago, I set out to write a comprehensive history and memory study of John Adams. I did not want to write a straight biography of him. Other scholars have done this, and I could not add anything to their work. What I wanted to do instead is examine how historians and creative artists have represented him. I also wanted to discuss how he has been memorialized—or not as in the case of Washington, D.C.
The result of my efforts was Remembering John Adams: The Second President in History, Memory and Popular Culture (McFarland, 2023). I finished the manuscript knowing that I had covered all my bases, proud of what I had accomplished. I had even done my best to wade through the difficult poetry of Ezra Pound for the project!
Yet, I missed something. I believed I had found all the literature references to John Adams, but one book escaped my attention. I am not sure how that happened because I am familiar with the author and his other works. Still, Jeff Shaara’s Rise to Rebellion (2001) in which John Adams plays a significant role, escaped my attention. This is an oversight that I regret, and I would like to rectify it now.
Rise to Rebellion isa novel about the beginning of the American Revolution. In it, Shaara followed a formula designed to humanize the history he covered by focusing on key players and centering the narrative around their perspectives. Understanding that the Revolution was not just the war, Shaara traced developments on both sides of the Atlantic through the eyes of Benjamin Franklin, General Thomas Gage, George Washington, and John Adams. In reflecting on his character choices for this novel, Shaara made a keen observation about the world of 2001:
It has become fashionable in our modern, more cynical time to reexamine our history, to throw a supposedly new light on those who are famous for their accomplishments, to instead expose their faults, to topple the statue of the hero, to replace the honor and respect with the sensational and the shameful, as though it were the only meaningful way these characters can be relevant to today’s world. I most adamantly disagree.[1]
Shaara continued by arguing that these people are “so very much like us.” [2] It is this understanding that leads Shaara to the humanity of all his characters, including John Adams. While the writer does not put Adams on a pedestal, he also avoids the more popular portrayals of the founder. The “obnoxious and disliked” trope so often attached to John Adams robs him of his three-dimensionality. In this novel, as in other works of literature, Adams is more than the impatient, shrill annoyance that the public often sees in popular culture. In Shaara’s book, the reader sees his journey from successful lawyer to reluctant yet passionate revolutionary. This is, in part, because of the period the book covers.
Shaara focused this novel on a timeframe from March 1770 through the summer of 1776. The so-called Boston Massacre of 1770 marked a turning point in the relationship between England and Massachusetts, but it also brought John Adams to the forefront of the conflict. Adams played a key role in the Boston Massacre trials, not as an advocate for the five victims of the shootings, but as the defense attorney for the soldiers accused of murder. Shaara began his narrative by recreating the events of March 5, 1770, through the eyes of these soldiers. We first meet John Adams as he is responding to the shooting. In these early scenes, Shaara revealed several layers of Adams’s personality. We see the citizen of Boston, confused over what has happened and desperately seeking answers, but we also see the husband and father, concerned for the safety of his family. We meet his remarkable wife, Abigail, for the first time, pregnant and amazingly calm given the circumstances. Shaara took this opportunity to recount the grief John and Abigail were still feeling over the death of their baby daughter, Suzanna. This is part of their storyline that is rarely covered in popular culture.[3] Adding this to his narrative adds a dimension to Adams that is refreshing.
One of Shaara’s talents as a writer is to depict introspection. To know the characters of this novel, the reader must see their thought processes. For John Adams, Shaara placed him where he was most happy: his farm in Braintree. In a remarkable section of chapter five, we see Adams enjoying a summer day, walking his land and thinking about how the crisis with England had evolved. We witness John’s perspective, his struggle to understand what had changed and why the English were reacting in the way they were. At the same time, Shaara provided the reader with needed exposition. As Adams traces the events since 1765 to the moment of the Boston Massacre, the reader is led through the history to that point. Yet this is also personal for Adams. We see him understand the English perspective, but we also witness his anger at them and his dark thoughts about where the crisis would end both for the colonies and for him. This brooding is quintessential John Adams and Shaara captured it brilliantly. Yet Shaara also examines why John’s introspection did not consume him. That was thanks to Abigail.
As with other artists and historians, Shaara could not ignore the relationship between John and Abigail. We have a keen understanding of the bond between them thanks to their correspondence. Some 1100 letters between them exist. Using this source, Shaara gives his reader a glimpse into their marriage. As a result, he further humanizes John.
John confides to Abigail his concerns about his own ambition but also predicts to her that unless things change in London, there will be a revolution in America. He laments not being present for his children, but vows to be a father of whom they can be proud. She reassures him every step of the way, but she also shares her own concerns.
In one scene, Shaara creates a moment between John and Abigail, the conversation born from Abigail’s most famous letter to John. John is home in December 1775 and lamenting all that she has to do while he is away. She, in turn, is telling him about all that she has learned to do out of necessity. As she is wondering about independence and government, she asks, “when you speak of the people just whom are you referring to? In your new code of laws can it be hoped that you will perhaps remember the ladies? Can it be within your male spirit to allow some authority to flow our way?”[4] Recreating this exchange in this way, we witness Abigail making John squirm. He responds awkwardly, explaining the complexities of suffrage. She does not let him off the hook, but laughs and says, “All those fancy words and they may as well fall in a jumble over a cliff.”[5] This is one of my favorite scenes in the entire novel for in it, we see the remarkable relationship between these two complicated people.
As events move toward the vote for independence in the congress, John, once again in Philadelphia, has embraced his leadership role. Like other creative artists, Shaara, out of necessity, invents the speech that John gives in favor of independence. We don’t know exactly what Adams said during the final debate on July 1st; his words were not recorded. Adams never recollected what he said. Perhaps this is because he had said it all before. In a letter to fellow delegate, Samual Chase, he lamented, “That Debate took up the most of the day, but it was an idle Mispence of Time for nothing was Said, but what had been repeated and hackneyed in that Room before an hundred Times for Six Months past.”[6]
At the end of the created speech Adams gives in the novel, Shaara set up a wonderful moment between Adams and Franklin. “We are a people who have shown the world we can help ourselves, that we have the God-given strength to stand for our liberty. God help us? No, sir. May God bless us.” After the vote for independence, Adams then asks Benjamin Franklin, “Was I right, Doctor? Will God bless us?” Franklin responds, “He already has, Mr. Adams.”[7]
Throughout Rise to Rebellion, John Adams emerges as a man centered in the law and his farm but conflicted about the changing world around him. We see a warm relationship with Abigail and his children while, at the same time, we witness the leader he became. Jeff Shaara has presented his readers with a three-dimensional human being, not perfect by any means. He is driven by passion, his love for his family, and the law, yet he is not always secure in his own abilities. The historical John Adams would approve.
Marianne Holdzkom, Professor of History at Kennesaw State University, is the author of Remembering John Adams: The Second President in History, Memory and Popular Culture. She is also an Adams Memorial Foundation Scholar.
[1] Jeff Shaara, Rise to Rebellion: A Novel of the American Revolution (New York: The Random House Publishing Group, 2001;2002), x.
Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes guest historian Mike Busovicki
If the majority of American Colonists were from the British Isles, Africa, and Germanic States, why was Spanish currency so prevalent and how did it get here?
L-R: Silver half of a 1-reales coin, silver 2 reales, copy of an 8-reales (“piece of eight”) and copy of 1/8 (piece, or “bit”) of the 8-reales. Like cutting a pizza in half and cutting the halves again twice, it was easier to create a system based on “eighths” rather than a decimal one. (Photo by Mike Busovicki)
By the late 1400s, The Spanish had joined the kingdoms of Aragon and Castile through the marriage of Ferdinand and Isabela, wrested control of the Iberian Peninsula from the Islamic Moors and utilized the Catholic Church to enforce royal authority and justify brutal domestic and foreign policies.But these endeavors were expensive. Though successful in removing political opponents, it drove out or suppressed long standing medical, financial, and trade centers, especially in population hubs like Granada, Seville, and Toledo. Heavily in debt, the Spanish crown had to generate income from outside of Spain. Consolidating wealth and power into the hands of a few was expedient, but it excluded large segments of the population and resulted in domestic economic stagnation.
Copies of 4-Escudo coins. Escudo, meaning shield, referred to the coat of arms that validated coins. New world mines accounted for over 80% of the world’s silver and 70% of the world’s gold – it also funded conquest by the Ming, Qing, Mugul, Ottoman, and Safavid empires. (Photo by Mike Busovicki)
While French intervention, British politics, and German mercenaries constitute most discussions regarding European power during the Revolution, centuries of Spanish control of vast areas cannot be overstated.By courtesy of Encyclopædia Britannica, Inc., copyright 2016; used with permission.
“Without the character of Samuel Adams, the true history of the American Revolution can never be written,” John Adams once said of his cousin.
Well, someone better tell the United States Postal Service!
On April 10, the USPS issued a new set of stamps, “Figures of the American Revolution,” as part of its ongoing initiative to commemorate America’s 250th birthday. (See the USPS’s full press release below.) The set features 25 of the most important people related to the American Founding.
Sam Adams, apparently, isn’t one of them.
Never mind Sam’s instrumental role as an organizer in Boston’s Sons of Liberty or his role in managing public opinion. Never mind the Committees of Correspondence he helped organize throughout Massachusetts and across the colonies. Never mind his masterful use of propaganda to implant events like the Boston Massacre or the Boston Tea Party in American imagination—let alone the effective use of those events as tools of protest. Never mind the central leadership role he played at the First Continental Congress. Never mind Boston’s centrality in the start of open hostilities with Great Britain.
And yet, somehow, Sam didn’t leave enough of a stamp on the American Revolution!
In fairness to the Postal Service, a collection like the Figures of the American Revolution is like a retrospective “greatest hits” collection from a band: decisions have to be made about what gets included and what gets left off.
So, if you were to add Sam Adams to the collection, who’s currently on the sheet that you would remove to make room for him?
The figures appear in alphabetical order. Here’s the full list:
The American Revolution lasted eight years, 1775-1783. Why then do we celebrate 1776 and not the end of the war? Continental Congress presented the Declaration of Independence to the world on July 4, 1776. That’s the big deal.
There was something different about this revolution against British authority. The colonies were better organized. The people, policymakers, and military worked in harmony, though imperfect, toward freeing themselves from the bonds of the British Empire. Lexington and Concord had loudly proclaimed the shots heard round the world in April 1775.
By the second year, the colonial armies already had two significant military achievements in the winter and early spring. The militia turned back the invading southern British army at the battle of Moore’s Creek Bridge, North Carolina, in February. This victory contained the Redcoats in the southern theater to South Carolina. Up north, the British army withdrew from Boston in March, giving the colonists a physical and moral achievement. The leaders of the Glorious Cause, however, knew violence and blood wouldn’t be enough to win the war as failed Scottish and Irish uprisings had demonstrated all too well.
It was now up to the Continental Congress to fire a political shot. Congress tasked a committee of five to draft a declaration in June 1776. The members included Thomas Jefferson, John Adams, Benjamin Franklin, Roger Sherman, and Robert R. Livingston. Jefferson was the principal author. By July 1776, a final version was signed and submitted. It was only two paragraphs, but its words were, and still are, heard round the world.
The Declaration of Independence succinctly describes two of the five “Ws” of the war. Why we were fighting, or the main political goal, was first to be put forth. The colonists demanded a political divorce from British rule. As the committee wrote, at times “…it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another …” Instead, the colonies wanted to form their own government based on a constitutional republic. It would be equal in standing to all other sovereign nations. That was the Why.
Then our founding fathers pulled the trigger and laid out the What, the reasons or “unalienable rights” we were fighting for against the crown. “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.” The King and Parliament hadn’t given these rights to any of their colonies or even their own citizens.
In fact, quite the reverse, British rule had subjugated the American colonies in “a long train of abuses and usurpations.” Redcoats threw colonists in jail without due process. Colonists were hung without a trial or after an unfair trial. Parliament levied taxes on colonial goods at a whim. We were subjects. We were here to serve the crown. Facing such despotism, the colonies had every right to abolish political ties with the British Empire and pursue life, liberty, and happiness.
It’s these three rights that we will soon be celebrating by commemorating the 250th Anniversary of the document that declared those rights, the Declaration of Independence.
Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes back guest historian Bjorn Bruckshaw
By the spring of 1776, the people of Rhode Island no longer needed to speculate about their relationship with Great Britain—they were already living in open resistance to it. War had begun the previous year, British naval power remained a constant threat along the coast, and the colony’s long history of defiance toward imperial authority had already brought confrontation to its shores. The destruction of His Majesty’s schooner Gaspee in 1772 had marked a decisive escalation, transforming protest into direct action against the Crown.¹ Now, as members of the Rhode Island General Assembly made their way to Providence in early May 1776, they did so with the reality of war firmly in mind. The question before them was no longer whether they opposed British authority, but whether that authority could continue to exist at all within their government.
Rhode Island Independence Document
Inside the Assembly chamber on May 4, 1776, that question was answered with clarity and finality. Without issuing a sweeping declaration or engaging in extended philosophical argument, the legislature passed an act that removed King George III from every function of governance within the colony. The law ordered that “in all commissions, writs, and other proceedings in the courts of law,” the name and authority of the king be omitted.² In their place stood the authority of the colony itself. The act further directed that royal authority was to be “totally suppressed.”³ Courts would continue to function, but under a new source of legitimacy. Officials would take new oaths. The government would proceed without reference to the Crown. Rhode Island did not simply declare independence—it enacted it.
This action did not emerge suddenly. For years, Rhode Island had been among the most resistant of the colonies to British imperial control, particularly in matters of trade and enforcement. British officials repeatedly complained of the colony’s defiance, noting the difficulty of imposing authority in a place where regulations were often ignored.⁴ That resistance became unmistakable with the Gaspee affair, and the Crown’s response—threatening to transport suspects to England for trial—provoked widespread alarm. Colonial critics warned that such measures would undermine “that great bulwark of English liberty,” the right to trial by a local jury.⁵ By the time hostilities began in 1775, many Rhode Islanders had already concluded that reconciliation with Britain was increasingly unlikely.
That understanding was reflected not only in legislative action, but in the colonial press. The Providence Gazette soon reported the Assembly’s proceedings, noting that the legislature had taken measures removing the authority of the Crown from government functions, a step consistent with the colony’s wartime posture and political condition.⁶ While not framed in celebratory or rhetorical language, the report treated the change as a matter of governance already in motion. Similarly, the Newport Mercury, writing amid growing military uncertainty, reflected a broader shift in tone, reporting colonial affairs in a way that assumed the imperial relationship was breaking down beyond repair.⁷
These accounts are significant not because they proclaim Rhode Island’s primacy, but because they demonstrate how independence was understood in real time—not as a single dramatic declaration, but as a series of actions already unfolding.
Emerging Revolutionary War Era 