Obverse of a 1779 $40 note. “Forty Dollars” at the top is in Union Pearl, and “DOLLARS” at the bottom is in English Scriptorial No. 1.

From 1775 to 1779, the Continental Congress issued almost 200 million dollars of Continental currency in order to finance the Revolutionary War. The banknotes were printed by Hall & Sellers in Philadelphia – formerly B. Franklin & D. Hall, the printing business founded by Benjamin Franklin.

The notes were printed using William Caslon’s types, alongside three of the Grover foundry’s typefaces, dating from the turn of the century: Double Pica Union Pearl, Pica Scriptorial, and English Scriptorial No. 1.

The Scriptorials are also referred to as Cursorials. The same three fonts are shown together in a specimen published by Benjamin Franklin Bache, Benjamin Franklin’s grandson.

Obverse of a 1778 $20 note. “Twenty Dollars” is in Union Pearl (except for the D), and the italic text (including “DOLLARS” at the bottom right) is in Pica Scriptorial.

Reverse of a 1775 $5 note. “PHILADELPHIA” is in English Scriptorial No. 1.

Reverse of a 1775 $7 note. “HALL and SELLERS” is in English Scriptorial No. 1.

A specimen of English Scriptorial No. 1, from the 1782 auction catalogue of the John James foundry. John James had bought the Grover foundry in 1758.

A specimen of Pica Scriptorial, from the same source

An advertisement promoting the use of Grover’s Scriptorials for legal documents, published in The Observator, February 11–7 [sic], 1708. The word “Scriptographia” is in Union Pearl, and the majority of the rest of the text is in Pica Scriptorial.

When Typographic House advertised their typesetting services – and specifically Gill Sans Extra Bold – in the January 1969 issue of Art Direction, they adopted a quote by Franklin D. Roosevelt. It’s taken from a speech held on April 21, 1938, when FDR addressed 4,000 members of the Daughters of the American Revolution.

Typographic House was “the finest typesetter in Boston” [Richard Sheaff] and “the largest type house in New England” [Steve Jackaman], with offices in Boston, Providence, and Harford. Founded in 1938 by Michael Brotman (c.1907–2002), “Typo House” was led by James H. Moore (1932–2023) from 1967 until his retirement in 1991. In 1984, Moore acquired the company together with Peter Brotman (1941–2016), the founder’s son.

Der Trommelknabe is the German title of The Hessian, a novel by Howard Fast (1914–2003) set in the time of the American Revolution. First published by William Morrow in New York in 1972, it was translated from the American English by Käthe Recheis (1928–2015) and published by Fritz Molden Verlag, Vienna, in 1975.

The bold typeface used for all words on the book jacket is a phototype-era design that originated at Schaedler as Super Cooper. It was also known as Super Dooper at Solotype. German typesetting company Fürst had it under the name Cooper Super, and the Typeshop chain – with an office in Vienna – named it Schmidt Casual. See the typeface page for more information.

An 18th century well was recently uncovered in the Boerum Hill neighborhood of Brooklyn, and a one-of-a-kind historical marker was mounted at the site in April 2021.

Abby Goldstein designed the small plaque with raised letters. Its center-justified text succinctly deploys Study’s lining figures, old-style figures, Th ligature, small capitals, and fleuron.

Howard Kolins of the Boerum Hill Association and Assemblymember Jo Anne Simon with the marker

Spot the tiny plaque just above the potted plant near the center of this photo.

The Declaration of Independence in its popular calligraphic form, with signatures.

When many people think of the United States Declaration of Independence, they picture the elaborate calligraphy “fairly engrossed on parchment” by Timothy Matlack with signatures by the members of Congress, including the now-famous signature of John Hancock. That version, now faded to near illegibility, is often considered the definitive incarnation of the Declaration, and is the subject of several facsimiles. However, that iconic document was not signed until August 2, 1776 – almost an entire month after the original Declaration was published. The purely typographic broadside that was distributed exactly 236 years ago today, now known as the Dunlap Broadside, is the first version that actually spread the Declaration of Independence to the rest of the world.

On July 4th, 1776, immediately after the Declaration of Independence was formally ratified by the Second Continental Congress, the drafting committee of Thomas Jefferson, Benjamin Franklin, John Adams, Roger Sherman, and Robert Livingston was appointed to “superintend and correct the press” – essentially to go on a press check – for the first printing of this historic document. The printing was assigned to John Dunlap, whose print shop was just blocks from the State House (Independence Hall). He worked into the night of July 4 to typeset and print what has been estimated at around 200 copies of the Declaration for distribution the following day.

The Typefaces

Ironically, most of the type used by Dunlap to compose the document is likely from the Caslon type foundry – a British company, and later “letter-founder to the King”. In fact, the 1785 Caslon specimen book was even dedicated to King George III – the same King that the American colonists were declaring independence from.

But perhaps the choice of typefaces by Dunlap shouldn’t be criticized too harshly, as the options for type in the colonies at the time were quite limited. As type historian James Mosley expressed in a recent e-mail on the topic:

It seems to me that the frequent use of types from the Caslon foundry in the colonies was the result of having had a reliable source of decent types in London for many years. Some other printing of the time in North America was done in much worse type. I sometimes think that it would have made political sense to use one of the new types being made in the Baskerville style for this job, but the readers would probably not have noticed the difference and the client would not have wanted to wait.

Though the committee appointed to oversee the printing included Benjamin Franklin, himself a printer and type enthusiast, there were much larger issues than the choice of typefaces to worry about at the time. As John Adams later wrote of the Declaration’s inception: “We were all in haste.”

I compared a high-resolution image of the Dunlap Broadside from the U.S. Library of Congress with types in the 1766 Caslon type specimen book at Columbia University’s Rare Book & Manuscript Library. Indeed, most of the types seem to have a match with samples shown in Caslon’s specimen book which would have been 10 years old at the time. However, the matches between the two documents aren’t always complete or definitive in any way. For example, the words “A DECLARATION” appear to match Caslon’s Four Lines Pica very closely, except for the E, which is narrower, with larger serifs on the crossbars.

Red: Letters from the words “A DECLARATION” on the Dunlap Broadside. Blue, overlaid: Corresponding letters from Caslon’s Four Lines Pica type, as shown in a 1766 specimen.

Due to relatively crude printing and the deterioration that comes with time, things get even trickier in identifying the smaller sizes of the Dunlap broadside. James Mosley estimates the body type to be Caslon’s English Roman No. 1, but as far as I can see, it could conceivably also be English Roman No. 2 or any number of other similar types from competing foundries.

Left: Detail from lines 10–25 of the Dunlap Broadside. Right: Detail from a specimen of Caslon’s English Roman No. 2 as shown in their 1766 specimen book.

There are a variety of similarly close-but-not-perfect matches to types from the 1766 Caslon book, with many possible explanations:

• Some of the type might not actually be authentic Caslon type, but just an imitation. As Mosley notes, for example, “many of the smaller sizes of Caslon-style types that were made for the Fry foundry are as convincing Caslon types as Caslon’s own.”
• Caslon may have altered some of his typefaces between 1766 (when the specimen I used was published) and whenever Dunlap acquired his type.
• A piece of type from a similar font may have been used, either by accident or to fill in due to a shortage of sorts in the original font.

All of these possibilities are just the tip of the iceberg of ideas that beg further investigation to better identify the types used. I imagine this will be an ongoing project.

The Typography

As for the typographic arrangement of the Dunlap broadside, it matches very closely with typography of the day. There is a liberal use of small caps, some of which appear not to be “true” small caps. As Mosley explains:

We now think of small caps as having to be drawn specially to match the weight of the lower case, but so far as I can see, the small caps in the Caslon types are simply capitals of smaller sizes cast to range with lower case. A proper Microsoft Word technique. In France they did things differently.

Dunlap improved the readability of the Declaration by splitting it into two narrower columns for his newspaper.

The line lengths of the broadside are staggering, somewhere in the neighborhood of 130 characters per line. This vast measure – about twice the currently accepted standard for comfortable reading – must have made it difficult for the broadside to be read to George Washington’s troops as it was on July 9, 1776. The two-colomn version published by Dunlap himself in Dunlap’s Pennsylvania Packet on July 8th, 1776 makes it much easier to get from the end of one line to the beginning of the next.

Modern readers of the Dunlap Broadside might be confused by the long s (ſ) character which is often misread as the letter f, especially when relatively crude printing is involved. This alternate form of the s, as seen in words like “ſelf-evident”, began to fade from English typesetting around the turn of the 19th century, but was still quite typical for American printing in 1776.

Another typesetting technique which may stand out to modern eyes is the decidedly large space inserted between sentences. This approach is much larger than the customary single word-space we use today but, like the long s, was not unusual in 1776.

Other large spaces are found within sentences throughout the broadside. This is due mostly to the justification of multi-line paragraphs, but there are noticeably large word spaces in some of the left-aligned single-line paragraphs as well. This may be partially the result of a lack of spacing material on hand in Dunlap’s shop at the time. Library of Congress librarian Frederick R. Goff also noted in his 1976 comparison between different copies of the Dunlap Broadside that several erroneous characters had been removed in the proofing process, requiring the space on those lines to expand accordingly.

Finally, as though these faults in the typesetting weren’t enough, every single known copy of the broadside has been found to be printed slightly crooked on its paper.

From a modern perspective, all of these factors might add up to the Dunlap Broadside being considered a poor example of typographic composition. However, there is something about it which transcends any aesthetic critique or commentary on the typefaces. In many ways it is a piece of printing in the highest form. It carried its message – one of the most important messages in the history of Western culture – quickly to a larger number of people than would have been possible otherwise. That practice of printing, the one that secured John Dunlap a spot below John Hancock in the history books, is a big part of what the United States is founded on. In the end, the freedom of the press isn’t about composing conceptually or aesthetically pleasing layouts, it’s about facilitating the communication of ideas.

John Dunlap’s imprint, just below the name of John Hancock and Charles Thompson, make the last words of the first printing of the Declaration of Independence.

Modern typefaces of relevance

While there is a very long list of digital interpretations of Caslon’s work, the following typefaces seem particularly relevant to the topics discussed above.

• ITC Founders Caslon is a revival of Caslon’s types that retains the concept of “optical masters”, where different variations are provided for use at different sizes. Designed by the late Justin Howes, it also emulates the textured effect of letterpress printing on rough paper, giving the type a decidedly antique feeling.
• Williams Caslon Text revives the original readability of Caslon’s body types but does so without getting caught up on notions of authenticity. William Berkson describes his adaptation of Caslon for modern purposes in his article, Reviving Caslon.
• Adobe Caslon is Carol Twombly’s tour de force approach to reviving Caslon’s work. It is less focused on any one range of sizes but performs dutifully at small to medium settings.
• Big Caslon is Matthew Carter’s revival of some of the largest sizes cut by William Caslon. It retains some of the funky forms that aren’t present in Caslon’s other famously consistent body types.
• Caslon 540 is another interpretation of larger Caslon types. It was originally designed at American Type Founders in 1902 but has since been reincarnated in the digital realm.
• P22 Declaration is a family of script typefaces based on the popular calligraphic version of the Declaration of Independence.

Acknowledgements

In closing I would like to thank everyone who helped me place together the pieces of this article, most notably:

• The Library of Congress for providing a high-resolution image of their copy of the Dunlap Broadside
• The Rare Book & Manuscript Library at Columbia University for allowing me to inspect and photograph their copy of Caslon’s 1766 specimen book
• William Berkson for his insights on the work of Caslon
• Paul Shaw for his insistence that I continue digging deeper
• And especially James Mosley for sharing his thoughts and previous notes on the types of the Dunlap Broadside, the types of the Caslon foundry, and colonial printing and type founding in general