They gathered from across the 13 colonies to face the challenges that threatened their sense of citizenship and self-determination. The First Continental Congress had responded to the passage of the Intolerable Acts and petitioned the crown for a redress of their grievances, but there had been no resolution of the major issues that divided these English colonies from their English King and Parliament. As the congressional members retired from Philadelphia to meet with their constituents, they agreed to reconvene on May 10, 1775.

And they returned. With the standing rule that each colony, regardless of its geographic size or population, would receive one vote on any action proposed, compromise and coherent communication of goals would be critical. The memories of Lexington and Concord predicted possible future engagements. Congress responded by creating a new military force from the New England militias that had quickly responded to the British threat. The Continental Line was born, but who would command it? The notes from the Second Continental Congress include a relatively short debate before the members on June 15 unanimously chose Virginia’s George Washington, a veteran who had been seasoned by service in the French and Indian War. Washington accepted the appointment as the Commander of the Continental Army but refused a salary.

Washington’s refusal of a salary raised an issue for Congress. How were they going to pay for an army? What about supplies — munitions, food, tents, and more — that were necessary for a strong, mobile force? The Second Continental Congress quickly morphed from a body dealing with grievances to a centralized colonial government. But what did that mean? How do you establish a government — a nation united by common purpose — when you are technically individual colonies created by distinctly different charters from a common mother country, England?

First, they needed money, which they began printing, often underwritten by personal loans from supporters. Then, almost simultaneously, committees for “foreign relations” were created with the hope that other nations might be persuaded to send aid. But send aid for what? The army? What was the army’s major goal? Defense? Reconciliation? Even Congress was uncertain.

In May 1775, some delegates harbored a hope for reconciliation, but once the Olive Branch Petition had been rejected by King George III and Parliament, that option seemed to be disappearing. By August, word reached the colonies that the King had authorized the hiring of Hessian mercenaries whose orders were to “bring the colonies under control.” The threat to the patriots had increased and the emotional blow of the English government’s employment of foreigners to fight against its own citizens stung.

The cries for independence grew stronger.

One of those voices belonged to English writer Thomas Paine. Without the flowery language often associated with political philosophy treatises, Paine reached out to the undecided colonists with two strong suggestions: 1) a fight for independence, and 2) a goal to create a republican form of government. After depicting King George III as the “Pharaoh of England,” he advocated independence with a “common sense” argument: How could England — or even the Great British Empire — provide a stable government for a vast colony with varying needs? Paine, a recent immigrant to the colonies, argued that it was a relationship designed to fail. Interestingly, Paine’s Common Sense had been published anonymously in January 1776, and many colonists, unfamiliar with Paine, felt certain that fiery John Adams had written the pamphlet. In reality, Adams and his young delegate friend, Thomas Jefferson, did not applaud Common Sense, perhaps fearful that the talk about a new government was too early since the issue of independence had not yet been settled.

But Common Sense’s language stirred the hearts of colonists who felt that a line had been drawn from the rocky coasts of Massachusetts all the way south to Georgia’s red clay. Were the colonies willing to sit down and relinquish those rights of English citizens? And, if not, were they willing to take up arms and mutiny? The threat of treason haunted the Second Continental Congress, but were they to accept chains?

Paine helped to answer those questions.

How could the colonies revolt against their “mother”? Paine’s response: “But Britain is the parent country, say some. Then the more shame upon her conduct. Even brutes do not devour their young, nor savages make war upon their families.” For those still unpersuaded, he harkened back to the original founding, reminding the readers of the more than 120,000 copies purchased that “Hither have they fled, not from the tender embraces of the mother, but from the cruelty of the monster; and it is so far true of England, that the same tyranny which drove the first immigrants from home, pursues their descendants still.”

The delegates to the Second Continental Congress would debate independence with Paine’s words ringing in their ears: “Ye that oppose independence now, ye know not what ye do; ye are opening a door to eternal tyranny, by keeping vacant the seat of government.”

The vote would be called.