Recently, a man named Michael “Mike” Marshall, who is a transcriber/abstracter, and evidently the owner) for a website called Early Colonial Settlers of Southern Maryland and Virginia’s Northern Neck Counties commented on my blog, saying
RE:  Deed between William Murdoch and Moses Ouno, Montgomery County Court, Land Records,July 13, 1778, Liber A, p. 195, 196 [MSA CE 148-1]. Courtesy of mdlandrec.net. Not sure how pages of Liber D, 166 and 167 [MSA CE 148-4] relate to this topic as one source suggests.
=== Moses Ouno is Moses Orme
Montgomery County Land Records, 1777-1781; Liber A1, Page 195. Jul 30, 1778 from William Murdoch of Prince George’s County, merchant, to Moses Orme of M, planter, for 492 £ 12 shillings and 6 pence, a tract of land called Shawfield, being part of a tract of land called Discovery, bounded by John Coffee’s land, Samuel Blackmore’s land, containing and now laid out for about 281-1/2 acres. Signed – Will:m Murdoch. Wit – Chrisr Lowndes, Rd Henderson. This deed was ack. by William Murdoch in Prince George’s County. John Read Magruder, Clk, Prince George’s County, certified that sd Christopher Lowndes and Richard Henderson, Gentlemen, were JPs for sd County. Recorded Nov 10, 1778.
I responded by saying that I may have read the name wrong, then looked back at the deed itself, showing, yes, the name is Moses Orme, not Moses Ouno as I had written in a previous post. In that previous post, focusing on the life of Benjamin Murdoch, a captain within the Extra Regiment of Maryland, I was referring to that fact that in Benjamin “later settled some of his deeds in Montgomery County in the Orphans Court with his relatives there reportedly,” hinting that the William Murdoch who “bought a part of a tract named Discovery from Moses Ouno” was related to Benjamin because he would buy this land “in later years.”
The question that comes out of this is obvious: who is Moses Orme? Marshall’s website lists three men named Moses Orme. The first was born on Oct 31, 1755 in Prince George’s County, MD, and dying in November 1827 in Lewis County, Kentucky, and is likely related to another (his father?)who was born in 1693 in Prince George’s County, and had his probate on December 17, 1772 in the same country. While the first one could be him, he had no abstracted wills in Montgomery County. The last Moses Orme does: he was born about 1730 in St. John’s Parish, Prince George’s County and had his probate in Rockville, Montgomery County Feb 12, 1782.
Abstracts on Orme’s page, show that he had three sons (James, Moses, and Samuel Taylor), a wife named Priscilla (Verlinda seems to be his first spouse), eight daughters (Mary, Ursula, Verlinder, Rebecca, Harriet, Eleanor, Priscilla, and Charlotte). It also notes that when he wrote his will in 1772, he owned 100 acres, stock, and had at least eight enslaved Blacks, if not more (possibly four more), along with varying farm animals.He began such a lifestyle by buying, for “30 pounds sterling” a “portion of the two said tracts containing by approximation 50-1/2 acres” in 1761. By 1774, he gained more land through marriage. After his death, his son Moses, “sold by these presents part of a tract called “Taylorton” alias “Taylor’s Rest” and containing 51 ¾ acres” which had been bought by his father in 1761. This Moses may the same one living in Annapolis by the 1830s.
Nothing else is currently known about this man except what is written by Florence Bayly DeWitt Howard for the Montgomery County Historical Society in 1994 (uploaded here), also noting the history of the Orme family in the area:
William Murdock Junior in 1778 conveyed Shawfield, “281.5 acres,” to Moses Orme for 492 pounds 12 shillings 6 pence and in his will of 1782, Moses Orme gave “Shawfields known by the name Discovery” to his wife, Priscilla (Taylor) Orme during her widowhood, and after her death to his son James Orme. Priscilla Orme was left with three sons, one married daughter and seven younger daughters, a large family. It is not known exactly when the Ormes moved onto the tract Shawfield but Moses Orme is listed in the 1777 Montgomery County tax list in Rock Creek Hundred with four taxables. The early owners of Discovery were residents of present-day Prince George’s County and had patented and purchased it as an investment, expecting that the land would increase in value as settlers moved into the area, which it did…In 1787 William Murdock Junior, who by this time was a merchant in London, executed a deed to Priscilla Orme and her son James, which stated that Moses Orme in his lifetime contracted to purchase 281.5 acres, part of the tracts “divided between brothers William and Benjamin Murdock by virtue of a judgment in partition…all that part of said land so willed to him by his father William Murdock which was assigned to him upon the execution of the partition aforesaid.” Priscilla and James Orme had paid 500 pounds for the land and it was conveyed to them…Shawfield, the western half of the northern section of Beall and Edmonstons Discovery, was still the home of the Ormes at the time of the 1793 county tax assessment. Priscilla Orme was listed with 285 acres of Shawfield and eight slaves. By 1810, the land was assessed to her son, James Orme. James made his will in 1829, several years before his death in 1832, leaving Shawfield to his wife Rebecca during her lifetime and after her death to their three sons, Jeremiah, William and Patrick Addison Orme. He instructed his children to free his slaves when the female slaves reached the age of 30 and the male slaves at age 35. Rebecca Orme must have died by June 11, 1841, when William Orme and his wife Anna Maria Orme of Washington, D.C., Jeremiah Orme of George Town, D.C., and Patrick A. Orme and his wife Anna R. Orme of Baltimore sold the land. They conveyed, for $2800,their 281.5 acres of Shawfield to Edward Stubbs…Although the conveyance from the sons of James Orme to Stubbs did not mention it, in 1827 James had sold one acre of Discovery, just inside its north line, to William Beckett for $30, the deed stating that the land was commonly called “The Old Cabbin” and was “in the tenure of said William Beckett.”…Many families have lived on this land that was once Beall and Edmonstons Discovery: three generations of Ormes, four generations of Stubbs, and so many other families. Today the land belongs to the residents of Montgomery County and is visited by people from far and near. It has become our treasure and part of our heritage, to be cared for and enjoyed and passed on to future generations
We know from other sources that the Orme family lived in Montgomery country. We also know that Moses Orme, on the pauper list in 1783, came a “well-known, financially stable” family, and was living “in the Lower Newfoundland district.”
That is all that is known, but it adds a little more to Maryland history.
Grave rubbing is an inherent part of genealogy. Thoughts about it among genealogists and other researchers are divided, without a surprise, with strong anger emanating from the preservation community on this issue. Case in point is the response of Jere Gibber, Executive Director of the National Preservation Institute, to my inqiry, noting the number of available online, and saying that “here are just a few of the articles I found on the subject. In general, I would say that the advice offered leans toward not doing gravestone rubbings for many good reasons” and sending forward links to Historic Cemetery Preservation in Maryland, a site titled “Vast Public Indifference” standing against grave rubbings, a “Cemetery Preservation Guide” by a Louisiana individual saying that grave rubbings are extremely harmful, and a link to a South Carolinan website. He ended by saying “best of luck with your own research.” It must be a small organization for the executive director to email me!
Introduction: the debate begins
Some sites like Wikihow and ThoughtCo have pages on “how” a grave rubbing (also called a stone rubbing or tombstone rubbing) should be done. Wikihow says that you need to check if its okay to take gravestone and tombstone rubbings, with some “headstones may be considered too fragile to take rubbings but on the whole, most people won’t mind you taking a rubbing,” says that you shouldn’t trespass, you should assemble the needed items, clean the gravestone with a soft brush (as one site states, “before cleaning any stone, carefully check its condition”), and how to make the rubbing itself. ThoughtCo says something similar: that you should have permission, only do a grave rubbing on a stable stone, making sure you don’t damage the stone, and how to make the rubbing once all the appropriate steps have been taken. However these, including the Wikipedia page on “stone rubbing,” and some other sites I found on the subject do not talk about the ethics of gravestone rubbing. 
There are hints to the debated nature of grave rubbing. A page on Save A Grave, notes that “gravestone rubbing can be controversial. Many rubbers are not careful, for this reason, some cemetery associations do not allow stone rubbing,” while giving the same general tips as WikiHow and ThoughtCo. Another site, savinggraves.net, adds, before outlining tips about how to do grave rubbing appropriately, that “this practice has been regulated or banned in some states and in many cemeteries (particularly in colonial graveyards) due to the damage it can cause to the stone” such as in New Hampshire, with many “cemeteries now ask for permits before you are allowed to do rubbings” and adding that “common courtesy tells us that we should first ask for permission from the cemetery or graveyard superintendent or sexton prior to doing rubbings or taking photographs.” Add to this the words of the Massachusetts Studies Project, which says that while grave rubbings is an “easy project to do with students,” it is controversial because “repeated rubbings degrade the stones and can cause damage if done improperly.”
Even so, some, at least in the comments of this post, seem to enjoy grave rubbing. Some said that if grave rubbings are nicely framed “they make a bold statement,” or that it is “quite a pleasing technique,” and, with one adding that it’s a “very English thing, and usually free too.” Others called the grave rubbings “cool,” and one said they loved rubbing graves. In an online forum post, one person said that “a group of American tourists ambled along the path, taking pictures and ‘rubbings’ of headstones,” and in response some said that it is was good they “had an interest,” that rubbings of “some of the more famous graves/monuments” could be acceptable,” and that grave rubbing is a “popular pass time.” Even a group called the “Gravestone Girls,” which states that “everyone sometime in their life has probably done a gravestone rubbing,” once offered a 2 & 1/2 hour class to “teach proper techniques [of grave rubbing] and educate about these interesting and historical spaces.”
This post looks at the differing laws on grave rubbing within the United States and articulates a defense of grave rubbing as opposed to those who are angry at the practice. Note that any of the following text quoted from varying websites is done in accordance with the fair use exception under existing U.S. copyright law as this article constitutes “reproduction…for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching…scholarship, or research,” meaning that it is not an “infringement of copyright.”
Argument #1 against grave rubbings:
Photographs are so great now, they negate the need for grave rubbings, which harm the stone!
“Tombstone rubbings have been popular for centuries, and are often still touted as a fun and interesting way to keep a visual record of a tombstone. But the truth is, it is harmful to tombstones and is currently being banned and outlawed in many different areas. Rubbing is, in itself, very abrasive to stones. It will eventually wear away the carving on stones and loosen bits of the stone causing flaking and breaking. Remember, even gentle rubbings cause decay. With photography what it is today, there is no reason to do a rubbing for recording or memorialising a tombstone. Photographs can provide a much greater and more artistic visual remembrance of any stone.”- New Hanover County North Carolina GenWeb
“…gravestone rubbing…can cause serious harm to a gravestone. The practice of gravestone rubbing was to place a piece of paper against the front of the gravestone and then use a crayon or pencil to rub against the paper. This was a method of recording the look and words of the gravestone. Unfortunately, with many gravestones being centuries old, this practice would often cause the stone in the gravestone to chip and flake…Your best bet is to take along a good digital camera, on a bright, sunny day where you get the best contrast, and to take the pictures. Even subtle shadows can be emphasized in most digital software packages, and you’ll be able to see exactly what those letters were saying to you.”- Lisa Shea
“Gravestone rubbing is the process of reproducing a gravestone’s inscription on paper by rubbing chalk, crayon, or charcoal over it. Rubbing can quickly reproduce a life-size reproduction of the stone. It is a popular graveyard activity that has sparked many people’s initial interest in cemetery preservation. While rubbing may seem harmless, it can damage the tombstone. The friction and pressure hastens the natural erosion of the inscription that occurs with exposure to weather. Fragile tombstones are especially susceptible to this deterioration. Rubbings also leave remnants of wax or charcoal on the tombstone. Encouraging rubbing perpetuates the false notion that tombstones are impervious to damage. Therefore, gravestone rubbings are not recommended. Similarly, the use of shaving cream to highlight inscriptions is not recommended because it causes chemical damage. High-resolution digital photography is a safe alternative to rubbing that still allows a surveyor or visitor to record the inscription”- Prince George’s County, Maryland Cemetery Preservation Manual
“What about tombstone rubbings? These are controversial for the risk they may place on the stones, and have been banned in some places. There are safer ways to capture what’s engraved on the grave marker…Take a picture; it will last longer. Here are some steps you can take when shooting the picture to make the inscription more readable”- Family History Daily.
There is no doubt that having a good camera can replace grave rubbing. However, if such rubbing is done properly, then it can be as good, if not better than photography. Cameras which have a good lens and work well are not always accessible to everyone. Not everyone, from what you might think, has an iPhone. If you don’t know how to take a good picture (not everyone is skilled at photography as others are), then saying “you should take a photo, not do a grave-rubbing” is silly!
As one blog, focusing on gravestone rubbings at Fort Snelling National Park in Minnesota puts it, the rubbings themselves are hard work! Not only that, but it is fun! As the blogger notes, as you can experiment a bit, with the “look of layered colors” including wax crayons, applied with varying pressure. Even one critic of gravestone rubbing admitted that “a good gravestone rubbing is a thing of tremendous beauty.” I can’t agree more. Just take this grave rubbing of Jane Austen’s grave on the website of the Folger Shakespeare Library.
A favorable sentiment of grave rubbing is echoed by the Bullitt County History Museum. The latter which reprints the leaflet from the Association of Gravestone Studies titled “Gravestone Rubbing for Beginners,” who describes why grave rubbing is so important (after giving do’s and don’t as any good person does about grave rubbing):
Gravestone rubbing is fun. It is possible to collect some beautiful artwork that can be framed and displayed. A carver’s skill can be preserved, or an ancestor’s stone recorded and appreciated through this craft. However, gravestone rubbing is also controversial. Especially in cemeteries where a restoration project is in progress, rubbing is often banned. This is to enable the restorers to have an opportunity to preserve all the stones possible before more damage occurs. Even if a restoration project is not in progress, if those who care for the cemetery have determined there are very fragile stones there which may be damaged if pressure is applied to the surface as happens in rubbing, there may be prohibitions in place. So be sure to check.
There is something about grave rubbing that photography doesn’t have. In a spiritual way, grave rubbing allows you to be close to the stone, even touch it, even though through paper. You gain a direct connection to the stone that you don’t gain from a photograph, which you are doing removed from the stone itself. Its almost like the energy of gravestone (and/or the grave site) comes out to touch you and effect you in a positive way, which is powerful especially if some of your family are buried there in that very grave site!
Apart from a spiritual feeling you could feel, grave rubbing is, I’d argue more creative than photography. I’m a young person, or as society wants to label me, a “millennial” (whatever that means), but I detest people being on their phones all the time taking photographs. I guess I’m “old fashioned” in that way, but I don’t mind that much at all. Most people don’t carry around cameras anymore, but have it on their small smartphones in their pockets. Engaging in grave rubbing, it can be a family activity, of someone bringing scissors to cut the drafting, transparent paper, another doing the taping, and one doing the coloring with crayons of some kind.
Just taking a photograph is boring and loses the creative, and I would argue, interactive element of grave rubbing. I understand the arguments against grave rubbing, but using a camera or a phone with a camera is losing that human feeling, that human touch with something that is part of our past. Instead of just touching a button on your phone, you feel that you are part of history, that you are recording something for future generations. Additionally, just taking a photograph assumes that technology will work and not fail. That is, I can say from my own experience, not a safe assumption to make. Technology fails all the time. Hard drives and disk drives, memory sticks and power cords, work one day but don’t work the next. As one article in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette put it,
Gravestone rubbings may not be everyone’s idea of weekend fun, but folks who dig history and art say it’s the best of both worlds…Several students chose the graves of children, some dating back more than a hundred years. Under Foster’s direction, they used tracing paper, which is exceptionally fine, and charcoal to capture epitaphs and designs…Kelly says he does a lot of rubbings himself, not as an artistic pursuit but for clients who want to have headstones made to match those in nearby plots. He also processes requests from folks who want to rub gravestones for fun or to create artwork to frame.
Julie Kohl of Only in Arkansas adds to the above that “grave rubbings can be beautiful pieces of art themselves but should be made with extreme care and caution.” She further writes that “never force any debris off of the stone and never select a stone that is damaged or fragile in any way” and adds that “when you have completed all of your rubbings and it is time to leave, clean up after yourself. Make sure you gently remove all of your tape and collect any trash” along with many other helpful suggestions. Recently, as the National Blues Museum noted, John Wegrzyn traveled the country “visiting grave sites of famous blues musicians for the past 20 years,” creating “gravestone rubbings on album record sleeves from these sites” with the process transforming “the images of the gravestone onto paper making a unique artful homage to each musician.” You can’t do that with photography! As one blogger comments, there is “no better way to spend a beautiful fall afternoon than in your local graveyard” engaging in grave rubbings, with the right supplies, saying that a “simple crayon works better than pastels or charcoal for gravestone rubbings.”
To the final part of the argument, those who argue against grave rubbing harp on the “harm to the stone.” I get that some people are clumsy and can damage stones too easily (only do the grave rubbing on stones which are stable). But some of these grave sites are not tended well and clearly have few visitors (like one I visited in Bridgewater, MA near a church). As such, few visit these places. Saying all of that, I do think that people should follow all the right tips for grave rubbing, as noted in the first part of this article, and generally use “common sense,” as my mom always says, when it comes to this creative endeavor. As noted by the Florida Division of Historical Resources, “do not make a rubbing of a gravestone if it is in poor condition and may fracture from the pressure applied to its face” and while making a rubbing, “be sure that the marker is completely covered with paper and the rubbing medium will not leave any residue.”
There is a point that those who sneer at grave rubbing seem to forget however: a grave rubbing can include details that a photograph cannot. Sometimes gravestones are hard to photograph, or even if they can be photographed in a good way, you miss something. If you do it diligently, and with discipline, a grave rubbing can show all the nooks and crannies of a stone. This is especially important as stones tend to sink into the ground, meaning that they are submerged partially below the ground. However, if a grave rubbing was done before that, then a photograph taken of the partially submerged stone will tell you less than the grave rubbing. There should be no question about that.
The Holmes County Cemeteries WordPress, which says that “extreme caution” should be done while doing a grave rubbing and getting permission (as some cemeteries do not allow it), describes the practice of grave rubbing as a
technique that can be used to preserve the unique artwork found on many tombstones. If done properly, it can be a way to help decipher the tombstone’s inscription which may be worn with age.
Can you preserve the “unique artwork” with a camera and decipher an inscription worn with age? This is unlikely to be the case especially of a photograph of the stone doesn’t turn out well.
Sure, grave rubbing can “potentially damage” a stone if done incorrectly. However, just taking a photograph is like restraining yourself from touching something in a museum. Why not interact with history, instead of physically removing yourself by taking a picture? I understand what too much rubbing of a stone can degrade it over time. If one stone or a cemetery is a popular one for grave rubbing, that the cemetery should do their own (professionally done) grave rubbing(s) and have them available to those visiting the cemetery. I wouldn’t be opposed to that at all. This is something those who sneer at grave rubbing don’t seem to think about or propose as a possible compromise.
If you want to take a photograph, go ahead, but you will be engaging in an activity which does not have as much of a connection to the past, is something that is easy, simple, and thoughtless. Grave rubbing is something that requires thought but is creative and interactive. Saying all of this, I still enjoy Find A Grave and BillionGraves, with photographs of tombstones within their profiles even if I personally prefer grave rubbing better.
Argument #2 against grave rubbings:
Its against the law, just take a photograph!
“I did not take this rubbing, in fact because I live in Massachusetts, I have never done a gravestone rubbing. It is considered gravestone desecration and it against the law here. I don’t know if it is against the law in other states. This rubbing was done in Connecticut and probably many years ago. It is a reminder to all how well preserved this gravestone is to be able to do that…I raised my hand and politely informed him that this was an illegal practice in Massachusetts and that he should be teaching gravestone photography instead. He replied that it wasn’t the SAME and that he would continue to teach them to rub gravestones…It occurs to me now that gravestone photography would be quicker and easier for his students to accomplish (and more educationally appropriate for 21st century learning and sharing online) and perhaps the time it took to make the gravestone rubbing and then to hang them somewhere in the college’s halls (adding to his fame and reputation) was the point to the assignment in his mind.”- a blog titled Granite in my Blood
“…gravestone rubbings…are harmful to the gravestone…I consider them temporary and my digital photo of the rubbed stone to be my permanent record.”- Janine Adams of Organize Your Family History
“NHOGA does not recommend rubbings as a means of documenting the stones. Old gravestones are surprisingly fragile and any pressure on the stone can easily cause it to snap in half. Because of this, gravestone rubbing is often prohibited by law. Photography is a much safer option.”- New Hampshire Old Graveyard Association
The part about taking a photograph is addressed in response to the previous argument, as noted above.
In Massachusetts (MA), as noted by the MA Department of Conservation and Recreation, general governmental guidelines say that cemeteries should “prohibit stone rubbing, which can leave trace oils and wax on historic stone,” recommending the directing of a “raking light across the stone’s surface to illuminate inscriptions,” saying to use “a strong flashlight or a large mirror,” then taking a photograph. This prohibition would see seems to have harsh penalties in existing law (also see here) although grave rubbing doesn’t seem to mentioned specifically, but alluded to and considered to be part of the law, by places such as Family Tree Magazine. There is even a sign at King’s Chapel Cemetery in Boston discouraging grave rubbing, as one blogger noted in 2011:
With the image and other assertions, it was unclear to me whether grave rubbing was illegal in Massachusetts or not so I asked. Here is my email exchange with Ed Bell of Massachusetts Historical Commission, part of the Massachusetts State Archives, starting with my email on December 26th:
I’m getting ready to write a blogpost about grave rubbing (nationwide) and would like to know about its legal status in your state. I’ve read your states Department of Conservation and Recreation, general governmental guidelines say that cemeteries should “prohibit stone rubbing, which can leave trace oils and wax on historic stone,” recommending an alternative. I’ve also read specific parts of Massachusetts law here and here, and although some places, like Family Tree Magazine, seem to say it is illegal in Massachusetts, I still haven’t found anything definitive within Massachusetts law as of yet.
I guess I’m asking: is grave rubbing (also called stone rubbing, gravestone rubbing, monument rubbing or tombstone rubbing) illegal in Massachusetts? If not, is it only discouraged, but still legal?
If you can’t answer my question, I ask that you direct me toward someone who can answer my questions.
Thanks. I look forward to hearing from you in the coming week.
[my name and contact info]
Apparently Mr. Bell thought I was female (maybe because they get a lot of emails from concerned ladies?), writing back the following day:
For Mass. state laws about cemeteries and gravestones, see Mass Gen Law c. 114 and Mass Gen Laws c. 272, ss. 71-73. Municipalities in Mass. and private cemetery corporations may have their own ordinances and rules. We are otherwise unable to offer legal advice.
Then there is section 73, within chapter 272 of MA general laws, titled “tombs, graves, memorials, trees, plants; injuring, removing.” It says and I quote:
Whoever wilfully destroys, mutilates, defaces, injures or removes a tomb, monument, gravestone, American flag, veteran’s grave marker, metal plaque, veteran’s commemorative flag holder, commemorative flag holder representing service in a police or fire department, veteran’s flag holder that commemorates a particular war, conflict or period of service or flag, or other structure or thing which is placed or designed for a memorial of the dead, or a fence railing, curb or other thing which is intended for the protection or ornament of a structure or thing before mentioned or of an enclosure for the burial of the dead, or wilfully removes, destroys, mutilates, cuts, breaks or injures a tree, shrub or plant placed or being within such enclosure, or wantonly or maliciously disturbs the contents of a tomb or a grave, shall be punished by imprisonment in the state prison for not more than five years or by imprisonment in the jail or house of correction for not more than two and one-half years and by a fine of not more than five thousand dollars. In addition, the court shall order any person convicted of an offense pursuant to this section to pay restitution to the owner of the property that was damaged, destroyed, mutilated, defaced, injured or removed.
This would obviously prohibit scratches of a stone or damaging a tombstone in any other way. Even with this, however, I can’t tell if this would prohibit grave rubbing or not.Some people on reddit said that “if I recall correctly… gravestone rubbing is illegal in MA” but couldn’t find any source other than blogs, another said it is illegal to “deface” or “tamper with” gravestones in Massachusetts,” and someone else commented that: “I don’t know of any cemeteries that allow stone-rubbings.” I know that Reading, MA says that “unauthorized gravestone rubbing is not allowed” and Burying Point cemetery in Salem (as does the whole jurisdiction) bans the practice, as does Dennis, MA, but does this apply to all of MA? The same could be said for Princeton, MA which says that “only gravestone rubbings authorized by the PCC are permitted” with the same being the case for Amesbury, MA, and Provincetown arguing that “gravestone rubbing…is not allowed except by express written permission of the Cemetery Commission or their designee upon submission of written proposal.” There are similar regulations in Harvard, Andover, Ware, Harwich, Lakeville, Topsfield, and Ipswich. Perhaps people could do it more freely in the past as a photo on this website could indicate.
With this, I would say it is safer to take photographs in Massachusetts as, at least from my research, the law is unclear on the subject despite some declaring it is prohibited. Perhaps it a jurisdiction-by-jurisdiction basis, I’m not sure but it seems it is not illegal, but don’t quote me on that. As such, make sure to recognize the rules or regulations regarding photography in cemeteries.
Then we get to Rhode Island. It seems to have strict laws relating the moving of anything from a grave site. However, grave rubbing does not seem to be mentioned, even if you said it was implied in bills (unsure if they passed) like this one (also see here).  Like with Massachusetts, I emailed the Rhode Island Historical Preservation & Heritage Commission, writing that
Your state seems to have strict laws relating the moving of anything from a grave site. However, grave rubbing does not seem to be mentioned, even if it seems implied in varying laws.
I had one simple question: what is the legal status of grave rubbing (also called tombstone rubbing, monument rubbing, and gravestone rubbing) in the state of Rhode Island? Is it illegal as in Massachusetts (as some assert), is it legal but needing a permit, or something completely different.
I hope you are having a good holiday and I look forward to hearing from you soon.
[name and contact info]
As of January 22, the date of the writing of this article, I have received no reply to this inquiry. I hope to get something considering that the Rhode Island Historical Cemetery Commission (RIHPHC) suggests that grave rubbing be limited. On February 6th, Charlotte Taylor, an archaeologist with the RIHPHC, told me, in an email, “sorry for being so long in answering your question; it took a while to get to my mailbox. There is no law forbidding gravestone rubbings in RI, but the RI State Cemetery Commission strongly discourages it, because it might cause damage to the stone. Let me know directly if you have any further questions.” Why they would strongly discourage it is understandable, as I note in this article, although I still support the practice as this article notes.
Savannah, Georgia has a whole set of regulations relating to monument and headstone rubbing. Their regulations state that:
You need a “permit from the Department of Cemeteries” to do a grave rubbing that specifies “all lot numbers from which a rubbing is desired,” with a permit applied for every time the monuments are rubbed.
A permit to rub a monument needs the written approval of the owner of the lot which contains “the monuments to be rubbed,” except if the owner is deceased with no heirs, and no burials “on that lot for at least seventy (70) years.”
The person making the request for the permit is “responsible for any damage to monuments or the grounds incurred by the rubbing activities” and cannot rub monuments that are “cracked, split, spalling, flaking, or have seams,” but only those that are “sound stones”
All rubbings of monuments has to be done under the “direct supervision of a responsible adult over eighteen (18) years of age”
Stones may be cleaned but only with a soft brush and not with a wire brush, with the non-removal of “lichens or moss growing on the stones”
The entire area to be rubbed must be covered with paper held in place by making tape, with any pens not allowed for monument rubbing, but “chalk, charcoal, crayons, or graphite” being acceptable, with any tape, paper, and trash from the process either removed from the lot or put in trash cans
Another city in Georgia, Atlanta, has its own regulations. They only have one sentence, unlike Savannah, saying that “no person shall conduct any stone rubbings within the cemetery, unless approved by the commissioner or director, bureau of parks.” Madison, also in Georgia, has similar rules, saying that only permitted grave rubbing is allowed following proof of “family authorization” with guidelines for supervision, certain standards, cautions, approved rubbing methods, and approved rubbing materials.
This is very different from Nashville, Tennessee which prohibits grave rubbings because “the markers are very fragile [and] the pressure applied to the marker to make the rubbings can cause continued flaking,” adding that even “with the harder stone markers, crayons and pencil marks left on the stones are damaging.”
Connecticut is unique. Since many of the gravestones in the state are sandstone and will “erode internally leaving the surface…seemingly very stable for rubbing when in fact the stone is hollow beneath.” Other laws on grave rubbing in Connecticut are not currently known except it is clearly prohibited in Somers, CT. With this, and the condition of the stones, I don’t think rubbing stones in Connecticut is a good idea! As the Fairfax County Cemetery Preservation Association writes, “rubbings themselves are generally discouraged unless authorized by the gravestone owner…Do not touch any gravestone that looks delicate, unstable, or disaggregated.”
Tennessee has similar laws to Missouri and Kentucky.
Maryland seems to need some sort of approval for grave rubbing (“No ground disturbing activities may be conducted on state-owned or state-controlled property without obtaining a permit from MHT”), but I would have to look into that more as the guidelines don’t say.
llinois, the laws of which don’t include the word “rub” (even so, the Illinois Department of Natural Resources and Illinois Historic Preservation Agency “strongly discourage” rubbings, further writing in a preservation handbook that “Making a rubbing of a marker does pose an unwarranted risk to the stone..although some preservation resources support making rubbings, we believe that the risks outweigh the end results. Digital photography provides an excellent opportunity to capture the motifs and inscriptions found on marble markers.”)
South Carolina (The South Carolina Dept of Archives & History writes that “unfortunately, it can damage historic gravestones. Some cemeteries now even forbid the practice…If you decide to make gravestone rubbings, avoid as much damage as possible” but no comment on its legal status is made, although this website seems to suggest that prohibiting grave rubbing was floated)
Michigan, with the Michigan Historic Cemetery Preservation Manual writing that “gravestone rubbings are not recommended and are no longer considered an acceptable practice because of the harm and damage that can occur…With the currently available photographic capabilities, rubbings are an unnecessary risk for fragile historic headstones. High-resolution photography of stones is a safe and effective alternative to rubbing. Photography can document and reproduce the same information. A digital camera can achieve remarkable results without chemicals or stress to the stones.” The exact laws in Michigan are not known, although there are documented grave rubbings in the state.
As for Maryland, I asked about grave rubbing, writing an email on January 22nd:
Good morning Maryland Office of Cemetery Oversight,
As a Marylander, I’d like to know about the legal status of grave rubbing (also called tombstone rubbing, monument rubbing, stone rubbing, and gravestone rubbing) as the burial law document compiled by the Maryland Historical Trust doesn’t seem to mention it. I’m not asking for legal advice or anything of the sort as I know you wouldn’t be able to provide that. But I see that “Maryland law provides protection against disturbance of burial sites and human remains” and that “No ground disturbing activities may be conducted on state-owned or state-controlled property without obtaining a permit from MHT” on the Historic Cemetery Preservation webpage. I was originally going to email the Maryland Historical Trust, but I thought I’d start with you first.
I look forward to hearing from you in the coming week.
[then listing my contact info and name]
I hope to hear from them soon. I will update this blog with their response. I know that the Coalition to Protect Maryland Burial Sites writes in their guide to stewardship of burial sites that
Do rubbings of stones only after permission has been granted by the cemetery office or owner. Your interest in burial grounds may be in creating a rubbing of the carvings and inscriptions found on the gravestones…on a very basic level, to lift an image from a gravestone you need…Permission to do a rubbing from the cemetery management…Note that it is important to not mark or mar the stone you are rubbing in any way. Placing the paper all the way over the edges and around the stone helps to ensure you do not get any wax on the stone…It’s better to learn the good rubbing techniques and try out your tools before you enter a burial ground. It is therefore recommended that you practice at home before you attempt to lift an image on site…If you want to create a rubbing of a stone and the cemetery refuses permission, state or local law forbids the practice, or a stone cannot be rubbed due to its deteriorated condition a photograph is a good alternative.
But, that is general and doesn’t talk specifically about Maryland.
After saying all of this, it is clear that you should make sure you follow the relevant guidelines in your state regarding grave rubbing (not burial laws). You don’t want to be running away from the police with your grave rubbing in hand, pay a nasty fine, or spend time in the slammer! Allison Dolan of Family Tree Magazine wrote that:
A state, county, municipality or a cemetery itself can set rules regarding tombstone rubbings. Historic cemeteries and those popular with tourists…often prohibit tombstone rubbings because of the potential damage. Repeated rubbings of a stone, even when done properly, cause deterioration over time. Similarly, Department of Veterans Affairs national cemeteries also do not authorize gravestone rubbings..You also may find rubbings aren’t prohibited, but regulated…Before you visit a cemetery to do a rubbing, call ahead to see if it’s permitted. Most cemetery Web sites I checked didn’t address the issue; I’d try to talk to a person just to be safe. For some cemeteries, it’s not clear whom to call…A local genealogical or historical society might be able to give helpful information, too. Before visiting a cemetery located on private property…check cemetery access laws to ensure you’re not trespassing…Even when tombstone rubbings are allowed, use common sense: If a stone is unsteady, crumbling or fragile, don’t take a rubbing—take a picture and make a transcription instead.
From here, Genealogy Today puts it best, when it comes to the merits of grave rubbings, writing that “tombstone rubbings can be a great way to collect genealogical information. And the process can be fun for the entire family,” helping to preserve old tombstones which “crack and break apart or erode over time.” Additionally they can create “interest and conversation with family members who aren’t normally interested in family history.” I doubt that a photograph of a tombstone can have the same effect as that. As Kristi of the Oklahoma blog, “Cemetery Fun!” writes,
the first time I ever did a grave rubbing was in a beautiful, old cemetery in Stratford-upon-Avon. It was so fun. This is a great way to not only teach about the symbols but it’s a great art project as well. All you need is some paper and a crayon and possibly some tape to hold the paper on, if you are wanting to copy a large area….make sure the cemetery allows rubbings &…only do them on sturdy headstones.
Even saying this, looking at the laws above, some states, like Connecticut, undoubtedly require a method other than grave rubbing if the stones are that fragile, looking “stable” when they are actually hollow. As a post on Ancestry put it, “before you do any kind of gravestone rubbing, first check with the group that is in charge of the cemetery or find another method that is safer for the stone to get the information you need.” This applies whether you are doing grave rubbing in Ireland, North Carolina, Falls City, Nebraska, Kentucky, or in New Suffolk, NY. So do grave rubbing and have fun, but be responsible while doing it!
Ms. Andrea Carlin of the Greenfield, MA-based Association for Gravestone Studies wrote to me on January 27, saying that I should “contact Gravestone Artwear, they sell rubbing supplies and I’m sure would have some advice” and attached a “guide that has some general info” for other helpful tips. That 8-page-guide is attached here. The website she sent for Gravestone Artwear says the following:
…Our brand NEW Old Stone Rubbing Kit’s contents are all manufactured here in the USA…In response to our customers requests for wider rubbing paper, we’ve added three inches to the width of our internationally known “Aqaba” brand rubbing paper. It now measures 27 inches by 36 inches to give you more rubbing surface. We have made the tube wider for easier access to its contents.
The half inch wider width also gives you more space for storing your rubbings…The NEWLY updated Old Stone Rubbing kit retails for $29.95, plus shipping. Additional copies of the Gravestone Rubbing Guide can be purchased at $5.00 each.
As always, I welcome all of your comments on the subject.
As we wrote about about last week on this blog, the pension for Anna Maria Tilghman, the widow of Tench Tilghman, is stock-filled with information. This post aims to dig into that information even more. Tench’s military career is evident without a doubt, and was part of the focus of my poster board in 2007 for the History Day competition titled “Tench Tilghman Pays a Price for Being a Patriot,” for which I only got to the state level with their theme of “Triumph & Tragedy in History.” That is part of the reason I’m writing these posts to be honest, to rekindle my interest in the subject I explored all those years ago, even though I did go to the Maryland State Archives, Maryland Historical Society (MHS), Historical Society of Talbot County, and the Library of Congress.  Back then I wrote about how I took notes from copies of original letters and documents at the MHS, a photograph of Tench Tilghman’s uniform, and that Tench came from a privileged family with sympathies toward the British crown, eventually making “sacrifices for Patriotism, facing estrangement from his family and disease contracted in battle,” leading to his early death at the age of 41.
Tench during the Revolutionary War and after
As far back as May 1769, George Washington was on good terms with the Tilghman family. He wrote James Tilghman, Tench’s father (who was once written about by the Maryland State Archives), that year, asking for advice in getting “Entrys of Land for me, near the Settlement of Redstone, in the Provence of Pensylvania” since he was, at the time, “anxious of obtaining some little possession in a Country that I have experienced many toils and hardships in.” Then in September 1774, Washington “dined at Mr. [James] Tilghman’s” house in Talbot County, Maryland. By 1776, Tench was translating letters in French for Washington as indicated here and here. By August, he had brought a deserter to George Washington himself! In all, within Founders Online, are 78 letters from Tilghman to other individuals, sometimes Washington. As the National Park Service puts it, “at Valley Forge, almost 30% of the correspondence that came out of Washington’s headquarters was written by Tilghman.” That’s an amazing feat!
On March 19, 1784, Tench wrote from Baltimore, saying that there are not any bricklayers but only carpenters, to Washington’s Mt. Vernon as noted in other letters. So, he is basically a caretaker of Mt. Vernon? In a letter a few months later he added that Irish servants arrived, saying the following:
I shall attend to your direction of substituting a Stone Mason in the room of a Bricklayer, should circumstances require it—I will also make enquiry for a Stucco Worker…he must be perfect, otherwise, like a bad Painter, he will deface what he ought to decorate. I beg leave to take this opportunity of acknowledging the rect of your Excellency’s letter of the 19th of May from Philada accompanied by a Badge of the Order of the Cincinnati, of which Society I have the honor of being a Member…I therefore take pleasure in informing you that Mrs Tilghman presented me with a Daughter [Margaret] a fortnight ago [May 25], and that she and her little Charge are both perfectly well
The next letter, the following month, is in the same vein, adding that in Baltimore there is a “demand for Carpenters and Masons, that the Master Builders in those Branches who are settled here, in order to intice the new comers to give them a preference,” notes about Irish coming to Baltimore to work, whom would take not take “less than the high daily Wages given to such Tradesmen here.” Again, these are about those who are coming to work at Mr. Vernon, with Tench meeting with the workers themselves. He adds in another letter about Mt. Vernon’s specifications: “The Door of the House to be as large as you can conveniently make it—otherwise when the Trees come to any size, the limbs are broken and the Fruit torn off in moving in and out.”
By March 1785, Tench is clearly not the caretaker of Mt. Vernon anymore. Instead he writes about the daughter of “the late Capt. William Anderson of London” who is in a bad way, worries about the “the health of Mrs Washington and yourself” and adds that “Mrs Tilghman is upon a visit to her Friends upon the Eastern shore” whom he will soon join. By May, he gives even more of a story, adding that he is currently tied down by business in Baltimore:
How much you flatter me, my dear General (for by that name I must ever be allowd to call you) by your kind invitation to visit you [in Mt. Vernon]. My circumstances require a close attention to Business, and I am, on that account, cheifly confined to the limits of this Town. I often wish for a good pretence to go as far as Alexandria or George Town. Once there I should not fail to pay my Respects at Mount Vernon. If I ever find time to make a jaunt of pleasure—Mrs Tilghman will assuredly be of the party. She joins in sincerest Compliments to Mrs Washington and yourself
By August, he is talking about those on a ship called the Pallas, owned by a Mr. John O’Donnell, an Irish-born man, with the crew on the ship mostly “from the Coasts of Malabar and Coromandel, and are much of the Countenance and Complexion of your old Groom Wormely.” As always, he (and his wife) wishes George and his wife Martha well. Later he recommends a man named John Rawlins to work at Mt. Vernon, describing him as a “masterly Workman” while also saying that he only has one regret, that he cannot make a visit, saying that “my Business ties me down to the Circle of Baltimore.”
By October, he describes his sickness as getting to him, even as he claims he is getting better:
You will wonder at my long silence; but you will excuse me when I inform you, that your letter of the 14th of Sept. found me confined to my Bed by a most Severe nervous Fever, which kept me there near four Weeks. I am now far from being recovered, but as I can mount my Horse, I take daily Exercise, and find my Health and Strength returning by slow degrees.
His next letter is a couple months later in December, in which he writes about meeting a man named “Count Castiglioni…who, in pursuit of Botanical Knowledge, has thought it worth his while to visit this, hitherto, almost unexplored Continent” whom he recommends Washington meet. The same month he writes Washington again talking about gentlemen he has recommended to Washington, and seems to be a sort of caretaker of Mt. Vernon again, writing that “the Work to be began at Mount Vernon by the 1st or middle of April next—at farthest.” In other letters he writes about sickness of some of these workers, and about his “Brother James [who] lives at Talbot Court House, the Central spot of the Eastern Shore Counties, and convenient to the State of Delaware also.”
In 1786, there are four letters written by Tench to Washington. The first is on January 16, for which he talks about setting Rawlins to work on fixing up Mt. Vernon, again writing about this in March. On March 16 he again writes about his sickness:
I have been confined upwards of a Fortnight in great measure, to my bed, by the return of a Complaint in my side with which I was troubled some time ago. I recover but very slowly, but I hope that as soon as I am able to enjoy the favorable Season which is approaching I shall soon get recruited.
On March 23 he writes his last letter to Washington, in which he says that
I am still unable to leave my Chamber, tho I think I am rather better than when I wrote to you last.
On April 22, Thomas Ringgold Tilghman, Tench’s brother, tells Washington about Tench’s death only a few days before:
I have the most melancholy Task to perform, that was ever yet imposed upon me; that of making you acquainted with the Death of my poor Brother Tench. Painful however as it is, I thought a duty not to be dispensed with towards one for whom he had so high a Reverence & so warm an Attachment as for yourself. Not above three days before his death every symptom bade fair for a speedy Recovery, when an unexpected Change took place, which in a short time destroyed every hope. He retained his senses perfectly till within a few hours of the time that he expired, which was in the Evening of the 18th, when he went off without the least pain & even without a struggle: As it is our Wish to settle his Affairs as speedily as possible, I enclose your account, the Bale of which £54.10.4 you will be pleased to pay into the hands of Messrs Josiah Watson & Co. of Alexanda which mode of settling it, is agreable to his Intentions.
As there were few men for whom I had a warmer friendship, or greater regard than for your Brother—Colonel Tilghman—when living; so, with much truth I can assure you, that, there a⟨re⟩ none whose death I could more sincerely have regretted. and I pray you, & his numerous friends to permit me to mingle my sorrows with theirs on this unexpected & melancholy occasion—and that they would accept my compliments of condolence on it.
…[his children were] Anna Margaretta, born May 24, 1784 [who married]…her cousin Tench Tilghman, son of Peregrine Tilghman of “Hope”…[and] Elizabeth Tench, born October 11, 1786 [who married] Col. Nicholas Goldsborough…In 1784 formed a partnership with Robert Morris in Baltimore called Tench Tilghman & Co. Lived on Lombard Street…[died] April 18, 1786 in Baltimore [and was] buried [in] St. Paul’s Church.
Within their sources is a chancery court case in which Samuel Stringer Cole sued James Carey, Margaret Tilghman, and Elizabeth Tilghman, a Baltimore Sun article, Papenfuse’s “Remarks to Board of Public Works, February 4, 1998,” other remarks, and a program. Most interesting is the 18-pages of a scanned inventory, showing that he had the many possessions when noted in May 1786. Instead of reprinting each (as that stretches for 7 pages), I picked the ones I thought were representative:
1 small sword
1 gold watch
10 coats with gold epaulets for a coat
1 saddle cloth
1 pair of pistols
1 riding stick and 1 pair of spurs
2 military books
1 sword belt
22 silver table spoons
24 silver desert spoons
24 silver desert spoons and sugar tongs
12 Mahogany chairs
12 pewter dishes
100 lb good brown sugar
This showed his class position in society without a doubt, especially that he rode on a horse but did not own a plantation with enslaved blacks like his contemporaries (i.e. Thomas Jefferson and George Washington). The letter by Thomas to George Washington is not a surprise because he was the administrator of Tench’s estate. Today, the MHS has papers specifically on the Tilghman family, as does the Library of Australia. Some even wrote a poem about him, with Washington placing “Tilghman among the prominent of the Revolution” as one writer put it.
Tench’s wife, Anna Maria TilghmanBefore getting to Tench and Anna Maria’s children, it is worth talking about Anna Maria. Buried on Talbot County MD, her former home was Plimhimmon, with her parents as Matthew Tilghman, an important figure in Maryland politics during the Revolutionary War, and Anna Lloyd, from the Lloyd family which was deeply rooted in Talbot County and also involved in local politics in the state (then a colony) of Maryland. Matthew’s brother was James, who was the father of Tench, who had three other siblings (Richard, Anna Maria, and William). Anna Maria was, as the story goes, born at the “Hermitage,” the family’s plantation not to be confused with Andrew Jackson’s home of the same name.Later, the “Hope House,” established in 1800 would be the “Home of Tench Tilghman and his wife, Margaret Tilghman” with this Margaret Tilghman the “niece of Margaret Tilghman Carroll of Mount Clare – the daughter of Margaret’s sister Anna Maria and her husband, Colonel Tench Tilghman.” Apparently in the Talbot County Historical Society hangs a copy of a “167-year-old portrait of Anna Maria…where she looks down through her old-fashioned glasses at the goings-on of the 21st century world,” with the original in ” the Shreve home.”
Tench and Anna Maria’s first daughter, Ann Margaretta
Ann Margaretta, or called Margaret for short, was born in 1755 as I noted in the previous post.As the letters above note, Margaret was born sometime in March 1784. Before her untimely death on March 18, 1812, she married a man named Tench Tilghman, the son of Peregrine Tilghman (whose father was Richard Tilghman who was the brother of Tench’s father, James) and Deborah Lloyd. With this Tench she had three children. One of them, with the same name as his father, Tench, was mentioned in the pension documents in the previous article, while the other two children, an infant and William Ward, were not since they did not live very long (the infant died at less than a year old and William at age 4). Family history sites don’t say much about her, except that her son Tench would be the future founder of the Maryland & Delaware railroad.
Nothing else can be currently determined.
Tench and Anna Maria’s second daughter, Elizabeth
From our previous post it was clear that Elizabeth was born after Tench’s death. Her gravestone only says she was 65 years old when she died on May 5, 1852, meaning she she can be the child of Tench and Anna Maria even though simple subtraction pegs her birth date in 1787 (when it was likely late 1786 but her birth date had not come up when she died). We also know that she married a man named C.T. Goldsborough and seemingly had a child named M. Tilghman Goldsborough and that she lived until at least 1843. Her gravestone shows that her husband was not “C.T. Goldsborough” but a man named Nicholas Goldsborough, and that she had six children with him:
Due to the fact that she died in 1852, this is great for discovering more of her history, since she has to be in the 1850 census, the first that names all of those in the household, not just the head of the household.
Looking up Nicholas’s name we find a record of his birth, but also the 1850 census for “Talbot county, part of, Talbot, Maryland, United States.” Rather than just linking the census it is worth reprint the image of the census itself, showing a household of 12 individuals!
Nicholas is called a Colonel, from what I can see, and is a farmer, with the Symthe family also living with them.
Before this, the 1820 census shows a Nicholas Goldsborough in “Trappe, Talbot, Maryland, United States,” the 1830 census show a man of the same name in “Talbot, Maryland, United States” while the 1840 census shows a man by the same name in “District 3, Talbot, Maryland, United States.” One can say these men are the same and that they are undoubtedly Elizabeth’s husband of the same name. Additionally, it is likely that Elizabeth was living with him. Other records, within the 1850 “slave schedules” show that her husband is clearly a slaveowner, of at least three individuals. Hence, the Tilghman family could not escape slavery and was part of it without a doubt.
It is hard to say when Elizabeth married Nicholas. I say that because the 1800, 1810, 1820, and 1840, censuses show a woman named “Elizabeth Tilghman” in Talbot County, alone. Likely the “Mariah E Tilghman” in the 1840 census is Tench (the 1st)’s wife.
The story of Henrietta Maria Francis
As I noted in my post last week, a woman named Henrietta Maria Francis was first “acquainted” with Tench (in 1780), when she was age 25, and married the uncle of Tench, in 1783, with Tench visiting them after their marriage. She said in her deposition in the pension that:
…she intermarried with Philip Francis, the uncle of the said Tench Tilghman in the year seventeen hundred and eighty and was in the year seventeen hundred and eighty three was living near Eden Park, near the town of Wilmington, in Delaware, and that the said Col Tench Tilghman, before his marriage, and in the month of March of March seventeen hundred and eighty three made a visit to the despondents husband, at [Eden Park]
One history of Tench seems to mention this Philip fellow, saying that he is the brother of Anna Francis, the wife of James Tilghman, Tench’s father, while another individual, “Tench Francis” is mentioned as Tench’s uncle. Find A Grave is no help in this regard, only finding three individuals with the name of “Tench Francis.” Other searches note a man named “Sir Philip Francis” but it not known of this is the same as Henrietta Maria’s husband. The Wikipedia page for Tench Francis Sr gives the biggest clue:
Tench Francis (born probably in Ireland; died 16 August 1758) was a prominent lawyer and jurist in colonial Maryland and Philadelphia, Pennsylvania…In 1724 he married Elizabeth Turbutt. Together, they had [a number of children including] Philip Francis, who married Henrietta Maria Goldsborough, who were the grandparents of Philip Francis Thomas…[and] Ann Francis, who married James Tilghman, who were the parents of Tench Tilghman…Tench Francis died in Philadelphia in 1758.
So, Henrietta Maria’s maiden name was Goldsborough and her husband, Philip Francis, had the same father as Tench’s mother, Ann Francis. Searching for “Henrietta Maria Goldsborough” turns up varied results on Find A Grave so it is not known which, if any, are the same as Philip’s wife. The same can be said for the results on Family Search. Tech does seem to call him “Phil Francis” in 1776 so perhaps Henrietta did know Tench well.
The Tilghman family is a gift that keeps giving for research, one that can continue to be mined for research. For now there won’t be a follow-up article, but if anything else comes up in the future, an article adding to previous documents may be released. As always, I look forward to your comments.
 Looking back at a binder titled “Tench Tilghman,” it is clear that I looked at newspaper articles, a letter to George Washington by Tench on August 14, 1784, Tench’s Yorktown Journal at the MHS, a few random websites online, mainly to provide visuals, photocopies of Tench’s journals, Samuel Alexander Harrison’s book titled Memorial of Lieutenant Colonel Tench Tilghman: Secretary and Aid to Washington, Ray Raphael’s Founding Myths: Stories that Hide out Patriotic Past, L.G. Shreve’s Tench Tilghman: The Life and Tomes of Washington’s Aide-de-Camp, and Oswald Tilghman’s History of Talbot County, MD, 1681-1861. I also had correspondence with a man named Richard Tilghman who lives in the Wye House (where Tench lived), who is “related to Colonel Tench Tilghman, but not directly.”
 Specifically letters on pages 485, 486, 487, and 547 relate to Tench.
Recently as I was doing research updating genealogy of my mom’s family by my grandfather, using varied resources on the internet and photographs I have at my disposal, I stumbled across a list of “inmates” in Milton Township, within New York’s Saratoga County. These men were part of the “Saratoga County Alms House.” The 1900 U.S. Federal Census gives an opening into this history of this facility, telling more of the story.
This census shows 62-year-old married man named Charles Spaulding as the superintendent of the house, along with his 36-year-old wife Carolina as a matron. He is also living with his daughter Elizabeth (age 22), a dress maker, his son Charles G. (age 16) at school, a 27-year-old named Edward Lapoint as Assistant Superintendent, Florence Morehouse as a 28-year-old cook, Margaret Willis as a 31-year-old housekeeper and her recently born daughter, Edith M. Most of these individuals, with the except of Spaulding, were born in New York, who was born in Vermont.
Then we get to the 70 inmates of this poorhouse/almshouse. Most of them, apart from five Black Men, were White. The majority of those in this facility were also male (46 of them), but a significant number were female (23 of them). In terms of their age, of those whose age was known, they averaged at 66 years old, if you round down.  Of the eight individuals whose year of immigration was known, they generally came in approximately 1851 to the United States. The facility, however, consisted of many foreign-born individuals:
In 1864, this same almhouse was crowded, with “lunatic inmates” with some in restraints, a supply of water but “no bath tub” along with no “ventilation or uniformity of heat in winter” and the house is “old and badly dilapidated” with rooms that are “out of repair, and the air in the sleeping rooms most foul and noisome” but it is is “kept in as good order as possible.” This same assessment said that there was no improvement between 1857 and 1864. It is known how much these conditions changed or stayed the same between 1864 and 1900. The placed seemed to change, since one 1907 article titled “Supervisors in Session” declared that the facility is one the best in New York State, saying:
“the general air of the almshouse is homelike and not institutional, and the institution is managed economically and thoughtfully.”
Add to this a 1907 report by the State Board of Charities of New York State notes the facility sits on a 127 acre farm and has a capacity of 150 people. This report notes that the facility consists of varied buildings, with recent improvements, steam heating, electric lighting, and adequate ventilation. Buttressing this a 1904 note that the facility was exhibited by the State Board of Charities. Being that the case, it was not “hellish” like it had been in 1864. Other reports add that there were many persons they considered “feeble-minded or idiotic” (whether they were accurate or not in this assessment is not known) within the facility, but that this is not the majority. This facility was also different than that in 1864 because this almhouse replaced the one is disrepair in 1876, the same one described as horrible in a paragraph noted above.
Other than this, little is known about the almshouse. It clearly occupied a “central position” in Millston, aiming for the “accommodation of the poor of both towns” with an “agent resident in the house, who keeps an account of all disbursements which he is to render to the overseers.” A 1910 table of the U.S. Census table of “Paupers in almhouses” lists 100 individuals as within, an increase from 70 in 1900, in the Saratoga County Almshouse. One photograph of the almshouse in 1903 makes it seem desolate but tidy, if that makes sense:
Even though little is known, with not many hints on genealogical websites, the historian’s office of Millstone, New York, Ballston Spa Public Library’s collections, even a back-and-forth discussion on an ancestry.com forum gives some clues, but doesn’t provide much. There is no doubt that those who were considered “different” like those who were transgender but seen by medical and enforcement bodies as having “mental issues.” However, if the facilities were anything like the almshouse in Schenectady County, the keeper of the poor house (in this case the superintendent) provided “food and clothing for the inmates” and there were weekly examinations of “the management, condition, and usage” of the area by inmates. These facilities were also, like those in Maryland, “primary public institution[s] for the destitute,” lasting for many years. This facility was undoubtedly different than the Philadelphia Bettering House in which sickened Maryland soldiers spent time during the Revolutionary War. Virginia Commonwealth University succinctly summarizes poorhouses or almshouses, while relating it to New York in a sense:
In 1824, New York State enacted the County Poorhouse Act, a measure that directed each county to erect one or more poorhouses to care for the “worthy poor.” Expenses for building and maintaining these institutions were to be paid by tax funds levied by the county government. About the time the Civil War ended, a number of state institutions were being erected to care for specific populations deemed unsuitable for being cared for in county poor houses, e.g., the insane, the disabled, children, women.
That does not mean that the facilities were always in the best interest of these individuals but they served a societal purpose to those who wanted to keep “different”/”unsuitable” people off the streets. In that way, it pushed away social problems to a place where people couldn’t see them, allowing them to ignore glaring inequities and inequalities in their societies.
While the New York Censuses of Inmates in Almshouses and Poorhouses from 1830-1920 could contain valuable information about the Saratoga County Almshouse (like this entry), in this case, it is better to look at the census itself.  This census shows that those in the town were working class. They were lumbermen, saw mill laborers, teamsters, farm laborers, farmers, miller, ice taker, and so on. This article is only dipping one’s toe into the sea of research, but it provides a start into this important topic.
 If you round down from 66.3555555555555556.
 Then historian of Saratoga County, Lauren Roberts, even found “a book of the county’s poorhouse records dating back to mid-1800s. The book is kept in a basement vault with other irreplaceable records and lists the names and vital information of hundreds of children who were left at facilities in Saratoga County and surrounding areas because their parents died or were unable to care for them.” Sadly, this cannot be used here as it is in the wrong time period, but is worth study in the future. However, one ledger of “Paupers Admitted to the Poor House” of Saratoga from November 1893 to October 1935 has been given to the county historian of Saratoga County. That could add more information about this facility’s inmates.
This post continues the series on Maryland’s Extra Regiment, focusing on the postwar lives of certain members of the unit whom information is plentiful about to explain wide-ranging trends. Mountjoy/Montjoy Bayly, whose last name can be spelled Bayley, Baley, Bailey, and Baillie, was not like unit commander Alexander Lawson Smith, who settled in Harford County until his death in 1802. Likely of Scottish origin, Mountjoy mmigrated from Virginia, living in Frederick Town, within Frederick County. 
By the end of the war, in 1783, he had, for the time being, ended his varied military career. He served as an adjutant, and later a captain, in the 7th Maryland Regiment, from December 1776 to September 1778, when he resigned, sending George Washington a letter acknowledging this reality.  Within his duties as a captain, he fought at the Battle of Brandywine. On the day of the battle, on September 11, 1777, he led a patrol of Maryland soldiers wearing red coats, with a Quaker and “well-to-do farmer,” named Joel Baily, thinking that they were the British and welcomed them heartily as a result.  However, Mountjoy soon would be out of commission for many years.
Within the sweltering weather and rough battle of Monmouth, in New Jersey, on June 18, 1778, he “broke a blood vessel” which rendered him “unfit for duty.” He remained unable to “do duty until the Spring of 1780,” sitting in a Pennsylvania hospital, as he said years later in his federal veterans pension application.  While he sat in the hospital, in an “unfortunate disposition,” his regiment was ordered south, as he recalls. Even though he was later considered an “invalid,” meaning that he had been injured in battle, he was still chosen as a captain in the Extra Regiment, which barely had a mention in his pension, only referenced in passing as the “additional regiment” of the Maryland Line. In later years, after serving in the Extra Regiment, he served as a recruiting officer in Frederick County and as “local city major and commandant of prisoners” in the town of Frederick as captured Hessian private Johann Conrad Döhla described him.  He placed people under arrest and oversaw Hessian prisoners, from 1781 to the end of the war. He even held a court-martial, in December 1781, in the town of Frederick since the officers commanding the militia in the county did not have, in his words, “the least Idea of discipline or indeed even distinction.”
Mountjoy’s life after the war
One year before the conclusion of the war, his father, William, died. However, Mountjoy still had many siblings and his mother, Mary, surviving him. He had six brothers (Pierce, William, Samuel, Joseph, Tarpley, and Robert), and three sisters (Sarah, Nancy, and Betty).  As a result of his father’s death he may have inherited his father’s land in Virginia, which likely included hundreds upon hundreds of acres. This is buttressed by the fact that Mountjoy was buying deeds to property in Fairfax County, Virginia in 1783 and 1784, along with part of a land agreement in 1782 with his father before his death. While Edward Papenfuse says he was entitled to 200 acres in Allegheny County for his service during the Revolutionary War, no record of his land plot in that county can currently be found.  However, Papenfuse may have a valid point in saying that he expanded his land holdings in Frederick County, including 47 acres of confiscated British property, and selling 192 acres between 1785 and 1805.
In 1784, Mountjoy cemented his ties with the Edelin/Edelen (Edelin is used in this article) family, prominent and wealthy within Frederick County, especially manifested in Christopher Edelin, a merchant who had become part of the local government in the county during the Revolutionary War.  As it turned out, Mountjoy married Elizabeth Edelin, the daughter of Christopher, with the connections between the two families continuing for years to come. He would have four children with Elizabeth, called by her first name in the rest of this article, named Benjamin, Richard, Eleanor, and Elizabeth.  Two land transactions the same year seems to indicate when Mountjoy was married. In September 1784, he paid a Baltimore merchant, Hugh Young, to buy a 450-acre tract known as “Victory” and later sold that same tract to Joseph Smith, who might be the son of the person it was originally surveyed for in 1773: Leonard Smith, when the tract consisted of 468 acres.  Since Elizabeth is not included on the first transaction, but is included on the second, this indicates she was possibly married to Mountjoy sometime between September 4 and 25.
Later in the 1780s, as Mountjoy continued to buy and sell land, Elizabeth would become more involved in these transactions, especially when it came to selling land. In December 1785, he bought the land on which his father-in-law, Christpher, previously mentioned, lived, which included a stone house and sat on a street in Frederick Town (present-day Frederick).  Not long after, he began his slave ownership, as much as we know. He bought an 19-year-old enslaved Black woman named “Pack” and an unnamed two-year-old enslaved Black female from Christopher.  These transactions were not surprising since Christopher would die the following year, 1786.
It would not be until 1787 that Elizabeth would agree with one of her husband’s sales. He would sell land to numerous individuals, such as Joseph Young and George Scott, while buying land from Benjamin Dulany, mortgaging land to George Schuertzell and Peter Mantz, a former major of the Maryland Flying Camp, as the Bayly family lived comfortably in Frederick Town.  This included one piece of land called Salsbury/Salisbury Plains which was originally surveyed for Christopher in 1774, and consisted of 131 acres. By 1789, there was another change: Mountjoy re-entered the US military in 1789 as a major, the first of his forays back into the armed services. 
Mountjoy, the Maryland House of Delegates, the “Whiskey Rebellion,” and French prisoners
As a story goes, on June 13, 1791, George Washington ascended a hill in Frederick County and looked over the “beautiful Monocacy Valley.” On that day, he was met by a “Cavalcade of Horsemen from Frederick” which included Mountjoy, and Colonel John McPherson, among others.  By this point, he had the political bug. While he had served as an auctioneer years earlier in Frederick County, it would not be until the mid-1780s and early 1790s he would serve as a delegate for Frederick County within the Maryland House of Delegates.  While serving as a legislator, he voted against creating a college on Maryland’s Western shore, supported the prohibition of taxes to help “ministers of the gospel of any denomination,” and helped prepare and bring in reports on inhabitants of Frederick Town and County. One year after his last legislative term, he rejoined the military as a brigadier general, serving in part of the Maryland Militia’s Ninth Brigade, based in the upper part of Frederick County. 
While Mountjoy only served in the armed forces, for the fourth time, from 1794 to 1795, he was involved in a strong assertion of federal power. From 1791 to 1794, angry farmers, which some call “protesters,” who declared themselves “Whiskey Boys,” attacked tax collectors in Pennsylvania, Georgia, Maryland, Virginia, North Carolina, and South Carolina. They did so because of the whiskey tax introduced by Secretary of Treasury Alexander Hamilton, calling, in part, for a more progressive tax code that didn’t benefit the well-to-do.  Thomas Sim Lee, then the Governor of Maryland, organized state militia and “took an active part in the suppression of the Whisky Insurrection in western Pennsylvania and Maryland.” Governor Lee ordered Mountjoy to rally local militia in the area, arm them, place a guard at the arsenal, and instruct another Maryland general, Smith, to raise a force of 800 men to “restore order.”  By September 21, the rebelling farmers were dispersed, with most of them rounded up and turned over to the civil court system, as Governor Lee triumphantly told Hamilton. Mountjoy also met with Colonel Thomas Sprigg about guarding the “the magazine at Frederick.” He wrote two letters about this. The first to Governor Lee, on September 10, with part of this letter describing the political environment in Western Maryland, specifically Washington and Allegheny counties where a “Spirit of disorder” existed, with “actual riots and disturbances”:
I have thought it necessary to Send with the Arms &c Ordered to Allegany County a Strong Escort Consisting of one Complete Company. This I conceive will not be thought over cautious when your Excellency takes into View the existing Circumstances, these Arms &c will have to pass through Washington County Where the people are generally unfriendly to the present Views of the Government. Under this Idea of things I conceive it would be imprudent to risque the Supplies which you have Ordered.
In obedience to those orders, honoring me with the direction of the troops which your Excellency had commanded to rendezvouz at Frederick Town for the purpose of repressing that turbulent spirit which had violated peace & order and seemed to threaten Government itself in the Counties of Frederick Washington and Allegany…For that purpose I marched about 300 Infantry together with 70 horse through Harmans Gap which opens into the County of Washington near the Pennsylvania line, a rout which led me through the midst of those people whose turbulency it was your object to punish and repress. This was done with an intention to apprehend the characters who had been most active in their opposition to Governmt and whose names had been previously furnished to me for that purpose. It was supposed too that the appearance of an Armiment would have a very good effect, and convince those who had lost sight of their duty that Government could send forward a force at any time when necessity required it sufficient to inforce obedience to the Laws. On my arrival into Washington [County] I proceeded to carry into effect my arrangements by despatching the cavalry in quest of the Ringleaders. But upon the first display of the Horse, I found a party from Hagarstown [Hagerstown] had superceded the necessity of any exertion on my part, by having previously brought in those disorderly people to Justice. About the number of twenty [disorderly individuals] have been apprehended, all of which have been admitted to Bail except eight, these have not yet undergone their examination but most of them perhaps all of them will be committed to close Jail, without bail, however this is but opinion. Martin Bear and John Thompson had been examined before my arrival, and although both of them had been considered as notorious offenders they were admitted to Bail and to my great surprize Cols. [Thomas] Sprigg & [Rezin] Davis were their Securities. It is however but proper to add that upon the examination of these two men their was no evidence of their guilt save the general report as I am informed by those who were present 
Five years later, in September 1799, a captain in the First Regiment of Artillerists and Engineers, named Staats Morris (not the same as the British general of the same name) wrote to Hamilton about fifty French prisoners held by Mountjoy in Frederick Town. He says that
I have the honor to inform you that Lieut. Dyson returned from Frederick Town last night, having delivered the French prisoners (fifty in number) to Genl. Baily, as will appear by the enclosed receipt. By his report Lieut Newnan’s command is thought necessary as a guard over them. There have been several new cases of the fever at the fort since the date of my last letter; but from the report of the Surgeon and from the change in the weather, I am led to hope none will prove fatal. In my last letter I had the painful task of communicating to you the death of my young Kinsman, Lieut Lawrence Your letter received since containing orders for him (which I took the liberty of opening) has therefore been destroyed…[bottom:] enclosing Mountjoy Bayly’s receipt for fifty French prisoners
The same year, Mountjoy, a literate Presbyterian, planter, and “gentleman,” would become a charter member of the Society of Cincinnati, a group of former revolutionary war officers.  Specifically, he would be one of the original members of the Society’s branch in Maryland.
Mountjoy, slavery, and land transactions in the 1790s
In 1790, the Bayly family still lived in Frederick, Maryland. While living there, with the honorary title of Major still attached to his name, he owned ten enslaved Blacks, and had fourteen other “free white persons,” six of which were his family, including himself and his wife, but eight others are not known.  The same year, he further cemented his tie with the slave trade and southern slavery in the United States. He signed an agreement which sold a 17-year-old woman, named “Jenny,” to him but also agreed to manumit her at age 31, in 1807, when she would be “free” from the chains of human bondage.  It is worth noting that manumission was not a progressive action but was part of the framework of slavery itself, part of the slave system, and hence it was nothing novel as some slave traders would easily disregard manumissions while “free” Black people could still face harsh discrimination.
In later years, Mountjoy would continue his buying and selling of land, with just about each transaction ok’d by his wife, possibly indicating they worked together on business decisions, which would make sense considering she was part of the large landowning Edelin family. He would sell land to Peter Mantz, William Campbell, both of whom were revolutionary war veterans, and Henry Elser.  He would also be involved in a lawsuit about purchasing Venus and Badgen Hole, within Frederick county, and be involved in agreements about land in Virginia. The land he would sell would include a “century-old tract of land,” consisting of 120 acres, known for a long time as “Middle Plantation” which sits in the village of Mount Pleasant, with its “beautiful horse farms” as one website claims. He would also sell a part of a tract sitting on Flat Run called “Alexander’s Prospect” which was originally surveyed in 1766, consisting of 310 acres, which he bought (at a time when the acreage of the lot had decreased) along with 255 acres of a tract called Douthet’s Chance (originally 280 acres), and 68 acres of “The Resurvey on All Marys Mistake” tract.  When he bought this land it was from a man named “Alexander Hamilton” who was living in Prince George’s County. There is no confirmation this is the same as the first Secretary of the Treasury of the United States of the same name.
Mountjoy also made a number of land purchases.  He bought 184 acres of differing tracts, some within Emmitsburg, Frederick County, from John Payder of York County, Pennsylvania, whom he had sold certain lands before. Also, he was part of agreements between the Edelin and Bayly families, among others, over the division of the estate of his father–in-law, Christopher, and dividing up the estate of Charles M. Turner, a related party.  In later years, he would be a witness to the marriage of Susanna Ringer and Abraham Krumm (listed as “Mount Joy Bailey”) and would be involved in a case against William Sprigg Bowie and John S. Brookes of Frederick County within the state’s court system.
Mountjoy, the slave trade, Republicanism, and land deals
By 1800, the Bayly family was still living in Frederick County, but this time specifically in the town of Liberty, likely referring to Libertytown, Maryland, a small town which is currently has only 950 people. While living there, the household consisted of 26 individuals, 14 who were enslaved Black laborers, twelve of whom were White, six of which included Mountjoy and and his family, the other six not currently known.  In later years, he would show that he was directly involved in proceedings about enslaved Blacks. In 1801, he would request that certificate of the sale of two enslaved Black women, Rachel and Nell to Lindsey Delashmutt, and two years later, in 1803, he would attend a proceeding determining if two enslaved Blacks were delivered to their appropriate “master” for said enslaved Blacks. 
In the early 1800s, other than watching French prisoners (still) in Frederick Town, he would seem to show his political affiliation. In 1803 he would write Thomas Jefferson, the sitting president a letter, about a “sulphur spring,” noting that this letter was written from Georgetown, indicating that he had moved within the boundary of the District of Columbia. The following year, he would again write from Georgetown about a land dispute where he is living and the selling of sulpur, which could benefit the United States. To this letter, Jefferson replied and said that he agreed with Mountjoy. No other letters are known. However, this could indicate that the political affiliation of Mountjoy was Democratic-Republican, or Republican for short, since many of those in this category were farmers, slaveowners (like himself), and others, who wanted less government intrusion into their lives.
In this first decade of the 19th century, Mountjoy would sell and buy land like never before, which his wife, Elizabeth, continued to agree with. He would sell 154 acres to William Emmit, land which was part of Monocacy Manor to John Ringer, and sells three different tracts all consisting of more than 48 acres to a man named Patrick Reed.  Monocacy Manor, within Frederick County, included “26 dwellings with a stone base chimney” and sat on the Monocacy River, bordered by a dwelling known as Woods Mill Farm. In 1801, Mountjoy gave a man named Michael Dutro part of his estate and interest in a lot which consisted of Monococy Manor. 
The Dutro (also spelled Dutrow, Dotterer, Detro, Duderoe, Tuttero, Dudderar) family was owned hundreds of acres and an estate/farm in within the county, since it was an “old Frederick County family” as one writer put it.  As for Michael, he was described as a Federalist in 1796, living in the same county as another officer of the Maryland Extra Regiment, Samuel Cock who is described on the next page as a Democratic-Republican or Republican for short. Michael may have been born in Franklin Township, Pennsylvania. He was living in Westminster, Maryland, with three other family members, one of whom is his wife, and likely his two children.  This means that Mountjoy was selling his land to a relative local but also a person likely of the same social class as him.
There are some strange land purchases by Mountjoy which are not all together clear. I’m not talking about the exchange of lands between Jacob Jumper (gained 25 acres) and Mountjoy (gained 35 acres) in 1803.  Rather, I’m referring to the selling of his estate, right, and title to John Cockey, Jr. (likely related to this person) of Baltimore County in 1801 and the buying of John Ringer’s Estate, Title, and interest to (and part of) a lot which consists Monococy Manor, only six days later. These purchases indicate the move-ability of the Bayly family, but could also mean it is moving to a new jurisdiction. 
Did Mountjoy live in Washington County, Maryland?
Existing records show a “Mountjoy Bayly” of Washington County, described as released and no longer and insolent debtor, giving Samuel Bayly, Trustee to benefit the creditors, all the property, real and personal and mixed.  It further says that this individuals took all his bedding with him, and makes clear this transaction refers to Washington County in Western Maryland, not the short-lived Washington County within the District of Columbia where Maryland jurisdiction still applied at the time. It is worth noting that in 1774, Mountjoy was an overseer for his older brother named Samuel Bayly who was living in Colchester, Virginia.  Hence, one could make the argument that this Bayly is the same as Mountjoy we were talking about.
Further records, show this “Bayly” as living in Washington County, is an insolent debtors and a “petition from Mountjoy Bayly, of Washington county, praying an act of insolvency, was preferred, read, and referred to the committee appointed on petitions of a similar nature” in 1805. It also worth noting there is a Chancery Court case involving Washington County, specifically the “Insolvent estate of Bayly” at Clift Springs, a land tract seemingly within the county, which is apparently mentioned in this book. There is one entry for a “Clift Spring” owned Philip Barton Key in the 1790s, but it not known if this is the same property. 
In the agreement between this “Mountjoy Bayly” and Samuel Bayly, the following signature is given:
In Mountjoy’s letters to Jefferson, the following signatures are given:
In the land agreements by Mountjoy from 1800 to 1803, the following signatures are given :
From this, I conclude that the “Bayly” of Washington County, Maryland is a different person. In every single one of these signatures, except one, the letter M has a down curl. While he did write his name as “M Bayly” on several occasions, none of the signatures looked like that in the 1808 letter, which seems much neater. The fact that he did not live in this county is also reaffirmed by the letters he sent to Jefferson in 1803 and 1804 which were sent from “Georgetown,” a town within the District of Columbia. Also, the idea of him becoming an insolent debtor and giving up all of his property to creditors seems unlikely since no land records before this time indicate any sort of financial troubles. Still, some could see indicators it is Mountjoy. Ultimately, the only way to solve this dilemma once and for all would be to look at the Chancery Court case mentioned earlier, which is a case relating to the 1808 letter. However, this cannot be done currently as I do not have access to such resources. But, hopefully other researchers and interested persons can fill in this gap in the future.
Mr. Mountjoy goes to Washington
By the second decade of the 19th century, Mountjoy and his family was establishing itself in Washington. One year after his petition to Maryland General Assembly was accepted and he was paid five years full pay as a captain, he would be appointed sergeant-at-arms and doorkeeper of the US Senate. He would replace the existing sergeant-of-arms, James Mathers, who died on September 2, 1811, chosen as his successor on November 6th.  His time as a sergeant-at-arms would last 22 years, ending only on December 9, 1833. He only received $1,500 a year as sergeant-at-arms, more than the Assistant Doorkeeper but many times less than the Secretary of the Senate, even as people depended on him to keep order. While in this position, he placed his vouchers and certificates from his military service in the capitol’s senate chamber in 1812 but they were destroyed when the British burned the capital in 1814, just like many other records, such as the 1810 census of the city. 
Since there is no census, that limits the available historical information. Existing remarks on pensions of revolutionary war soldiers, and other documents, shows that he was definitively in the city in 1818 (also see here) and 1819. There is also information indicating that he observed the manumission of enslaved Blacks in 1817, 1819, 1820, 1822, and 1823. There there is his federal veterans pension, for which he applied for in 1818 while living in the District, with certain records finalized in 1828, but he remained on the federal pension roll until March 1836 as existing records indicate. 
A site, “Early Washington, D.C. Law and Family,” created by William G. Thomas and the Center for Digital Research in the Humanities at University of Nebraska-Lincoln, has bountiful information about Mountjoy. In 1814, he was one of 12 members on a jury that ruled in favor of two enslaved Blacks (John and Serena) and against a preacher/slaveowner named Henry Moscross. The same occurred in a case between three enslaved Black females (a mother named Rachel and her two children Eliza and Jane) and Henry Jarvis. The same year, he was part of a jury that ruled against an enslaved Black man named Emanuel Gasbury of Northumberland County, Virginia, and in favor a slaveowner named Henry W. Ball. However, by 1816, Mountjoy was a witness to a seeming marriage bond between Richard Love, Car Withers, and Thomas Langston. Nothing else, even looking at the existing page for Mountjoy on the subject, is currently known.
Mountjoy and the Fourth Washington Ward
In 1820, the year that the city’s charter was changed, the Bayly family reappears on the census, living Washington Ward 4, Washington City, part of the District of Columbia. One enslaved Black female, aged 26-44, one free Black man, over age 45, and six “free white persons” are listed as part of the household.  The six White peoples are his son Benjamin (age 16-18), his son Richard (age 16-25), himself (over age 45), his daughter Eleanor (age 16-25), his daughter Elizabeth (age 26-44), and his wife Elizabeth (over age 45). While it is not known how many enslaved Blacks he owned between 1810 and 1820, the fact remains that he did own 14 enslaved Black laborers in 1800, as noted before, so having only two laborers (one enslaved and the other “free” with the genders possibly indicating they were a couple/in a relationship) is a drop dramatically.
The Bayly family, living in the Fourth Ward of Washington City, was joined by 276 other households.  Furthermore, there is total of 256 enslaved Blacks (163 female, 133 male), 225 “free” Black people (113 male, 112 female), and 120 enslaved Blacks being manumitted. By contract, there are 1019 “free whites” living in this ward (534 female, 485 male). This comes to a total of 1,620 inhabitants, but only within this ward of course. The breakdown of this data shows a mostly White population within the ward:
Ray Gurganus of the DCGenWeb project, citing 1816 Washington Acts, 1820 Washington Laws, numerous issues of the National Intelligencer in 1816, 1819, 1821, and 1822, writes that in 1820 the city rearranged itself, making six wards. The second and third wards were the wealthiest, along with the area above SE E Street and to the Capitol and Treasury buildings drawing in the most well-to-do individuals, while wards in the northwest and along the river front was fraught by poverty, meaning that they didn’t attract the same individuals. Drawing from this, it means that the Bayly family lived in a district of households that were relatively well off.
It was during this time frame that Mountjoy built the Bayly House, with its picture at the beginning of this post. As the Stewart Mott Foundation describes it, he built the house sometime between 1817 and 1822, later selling the property, like the land transactions previously mentioned, to a lawyer with the name of William McCormick, in 1828.  Mr. McCormick would hold the land in a trust for a woman with the name of Alethia Van Horne. Hence, this land transaction in 1834 is likely related.
In 1822, the directory of Washington City residents described Mr. Bayly not only as the Senate’s sergeant-at-arms but also as “fronting the capitol square,” confirming, basically, that he was living in the house at the time.  Further confirming his presence is a letter that Mountjoy writes on Nov. 16, 1822, that is within the federal veterans pension application of Moore Wilson, a former soldier of the 7th Maryland Regiment:
Beyond this, very little is known. There is a record that Mountjoy was involved in an 1826 case relating to unpaid amounts by insolent debtors, where he was described as a “person of good understanding and correct demeanor” as even the defendant admitted.  Then there is a Senate resolution proposed by Thomas Hart Benton, a strong-willed Missouri Democrat, in 1830, which went to a second reading, titled “A Bill For the relief of Mountjoy Bayly.” The main text of the bill is worth reprinting here:
Be it enacted by the Senate and the House of Representatives of the United States of America in Congress Assembled, That the Secretary of War be directed to pay Mountjoy Bayly his commutation of five years full pay as a Captain in the Maryland line, in the war of the Revolution: Provided, He shall satisfy the Said Secretary that he was entitled to such commutation and never received it from the United States.
The last six years of Mountjoy
Like the 1820 census, the 1830 census is full of information. Still living in the Fourth Ward, the household of “Genl M Bayly” as the census shows it, indicates that he is living with his family,, including his son Richard, his daughter Eleanor, his daughter Elizabeth, and his wife Elizabeth, along with two enslaved Blacks, one which is a female under age 10, another which is a female aged 36-54.  The same year a “Mary Bailey” was living in Georgetown, just like in 1820 when two “free” Black persons were living with her). Likely, this was his mother.  If it was, then this would add an interesting familial dynamic to the story. However, more research would be needed to see if this is the case. After all, many people with the last name of “Bailey” are listed as living in this ward in 1820 and 1830 but it is not known if they are related to Mountjoy. 
This same census showed 341 household, a “Benjamin Bayly” as the marshal in the city, and many colonels and military officers living within the ward. Furthermore, using all of the pages within the census of this Washington city region, it is clear that there are 1,860 inhabitants in the ward. Of these inhabitants, 535 are White males, 591 are White females, 117 are enslaved Black men, 134 are enslaved Black women, 212 are free Black men, and 271 are free Black women.This means this means there has been an increase in the number of households by about 23%. since there were 277 households in 1820.
In terms of the number of inhabitants, there were 200 more in 1830 that were not there in 1820, an increase of more than 12%. In terms of the distribution of those living in the ward, about 28.5% are White men, about 31.7% are White women, about 6.3% are enslaved Black men, about 7.2% are enslaved Black women, about 14.5% are free Black women, leaving 11.8% to be free Black men. That means that 60.2% of the town was White, with the rest as Black inhabitants, only 26.3% of which were “free,” and 13.5% enslaved.
Coming back to Bayly, in 1832, Elizabeth would die from a form of cancer, if I remember his federal veterans pension application correctly, which misstates who she is, no surprise in terms of pensions.  After her death, he would marry another woman. While her last name is not currently known, thanks to Edward Papenfuse, we know her first name was Rebecca.  The same year (and the year following) he would, from Washington City, attest to the fact that Benjamin Murdoch and Theodore Middleton were part of the Extra Regiment.
In the final years of his life, little is known. However, there are indications that he was “praying to be compensated for extra services” as noted in the journal of the U.S. Senate for Jun 27, 1834. Also, in the Federal Pension Roll of 1835 it noted that he lived within Washington County, a county within DC, not Maryland, still receiving a Federal pension of $4,320 since the pension started in July 1828, and an annual allowance of $480.00.
On March 22, 1836, within his 82 years of age, Mountjoy died and was buried in Washington D.C.’s Congressional Cemetery. As he still owned hundreds of acres in Frederick County , one newspaper would write a short death notice:
On the 22nd instant, GENERAL Mountjoy Bayly, an officer of the Revolution, in the 82nd year of his age. His friends are requested to attend his funeral from his late dwelling on Capitol Hill this evening at 4 o’clock.
This funeral’s location is not known. It likely was not at the Bayly House, but rather was at lot 13, square 637 within the District, a property sold to Benjamin S. Bayly in 1831. It could also be at lot 10, within square 637, also owned by Mr. Bayly sometime before 1832. Using the information on an 1835 map of DC shows that that square 637 is south of the Capitol, and near a canal, which means that he stayed in the Capitol Hill region, only slightly moving around. This is undoubtedly the current location of The Spirit of Justice Park, and he could have been living in what was later called George Washington Inn, which was demolished to make way for a parking garage for the House of Representatives.
The only way to find this out would be to, perhaps, would be to contact the DC Archives. I don’t feel it is my place to do this since I would be intruding on genealogy research by the family itself, but it is open for any other researchers.
The years after Mountjoy and reflection
Since the last name of Mountjoy’s second wife, Rebecca is not currently known to this researcher, further family linkages cannot be determined. However, a number of aspects are clear. In 1838, Theodore Middleton, previously mentioned, would petition the US House of Representatives, saying that he served as a lieutenant in the Extra Regiment, wanting five years pay, citing Mountjoy as support. He would receive it, possibly indicating Mountjoy’s staying power.
Years later, in 1934, one ancestor of Mountjoy, McKendrec Bayly, would write the Washington Post a correction, showing that his spirit remained strong :
In one New York Times obit from 1910 it cites a person named Richard Mountjoy Bailey Phillips as dying. It is not known if he is related to Mountjoy. However, one Baltimore Sun article about Mrs. Sumner A. Parker has this line, which concerns an estate they owned, “the Cloisters” which was the Green Spring Valley estate of Mr. and Mrs. Sumner A. Parker.  The relevant part is as follows:
…Mrs. Parker asserted in her will that she and her late husband…built the Cloisters…[which had within it] furniture handed down by her great-great-great grandfather, Gen, Monjoy Bailey, from his home in Frederick. The testator said that her ancestor had been sent to Frederick by Gen. George Washington and place in charge of the troops housed on the outskirts of the city.
This is partially right as noted earlier in this article. However, it is wrong to say that George Washington sent Mountjoy to Frederick. Instead, he was sent on Governor Lee’s orders and was in charge of troops within Frederick County, not anywhere else, like this implies. Other stories I found noted how Mountjoy was a better and gambler and how Sterling silver knives, which were made in England in 1790, owned by Mountjoy, were stolen in 1972. 
In later years, in July 2012, the 1st Vice President J. Patrick Warner of the Maryland Society of the Sons of the American Revolution would represent the Maryland Society in a “ceremony commemorating Mountjoy Bayly.” That means that to this day, people commemorate him.
There are many resources I could have used here.  Some sources said that the pension file of George Heeter is related to Mountjoy, but no evidence seems to indicate this at all. A related book and page by Fairfax SAR chapter, give helpful hints, the latter used for some of the sources in this article, but they do not provide all of the information. Possible other sources are out there, like the entries in “U.S. War Bounty Land Warrants, 1789-1858” for Mountjoy (called Mountjoy Bailey in the record), or “New Orleans, Louisiana, Slave Manifests, 1807-1860″ of about 1831 which involves Mountjoy shipping a enslaved Black man southward (if I read that right), all of which are records of Mr. Bayly all on Ancestry which can’t be currently accessed by this researcher. Other than that, there are probably online resources that I have not found. More likely the records I don’t have here are paper records within certain archives and databases across the East Coast.
I hope that this article contributed not only to an understanding of the story of Mountjoy, but also how the story of slavery is tied into US history deeply, along with Washington, D.C. from 1820 to 1836, at least. If this article did anything to improve people’s historical knowledge and encouraged further research, then then this research did right. As always, I look forward to your comments as I continue to write on the stories of certain members of the Extra Regiment after the Revolutionary War.
 A Biographical Dictionary of the Maryland Legislature 1635-1789 by Edward C. Papenfuse, et. al., Archives of Maryland Online Vol. 426, 119. He is listed as “Monjoy Baley” living in Frederick County’s Lower Potomac Hundred in 1776 here. The original paper record of this is in Box 2, f. 8, p. 1 of the 1776 Maryland Census. Bayly at some points preferred his last name to be spelled “Bayly” and at other points “Bailey” and “Bayley.”
 Ibid; Journal and Correspondence of the Maryland Council of Safety, July 7: December 31, 1776, Archives of Maryland Online, Vol. 12, 113, 179, 180; Journal and Correspondence of the Maryland Council of Safety, August 29, 1775 to July 6, 1776, Archives of Maryland Online, Vol. 11, 522, 523; Muster Rolls and Other Records of Service of Maryland Troops in the American Revolution, Archives of Maryland Online, Vol. 18, 189, 326, 621.
 Thomas J. McGuire, The Philadelphia Campaign, Vol. 1: Brandywine and the fall of Philadelphia (Mechanicsburg, PA: Stackpole Books, 2006), 185, 186, 368-369.
 Pension of Mountjoy Bayly, Revolutionary War Pension and Bounty-Land Warrant Application Files, National Archives, NARA M804, S-12094, BLWt 685-300. Courtesy of Ancestry.com and HeritageQuest.
 Ibid; Journal and Correspondence of the Council of Maryland, 1780-1781, Archives of Maryland Online, Vol. 45, 356, 357, 358, 369, 658, 659, 660; Journal and Correspondence of the Council of Maryland, 1781-1784, Archives of Maryland Online, 16, 23, 33, 34, 72, 73, 95, 102, 103, 121, 140, 165, 204, 265, 477; Johann Conrad Döhla, A Hessian Diary of the American Revolution (edited and translated by Bruce E. Burgoyne, Norman, OK: University of Oklahoma Press, 1990), 200, 205-209; Pension of Erasmus Erp, Revolutionary War Pension and Bounty-Land Warrant Application Files, Rejected Pension Application File, National Archives, NARA M804, R, 3.364. Courtesy of Ancestry.com and HeritageQuest; “Applicants for Pensions in 1841: Letter from the Secretary of War” within House Documents, Otherwise Publ. as Executive Documents: 13th Congress, 2d Session-49th Congress, 1st Session, Vol. 1 (Washington: Government Printing Office, 1869), 4. Some records attest that Bayly was part of the Maryland Militia after 1781, although this cannot be confirmed.
 A Biographical Dictionary of the Maryland Legislature 1635-1789 by Edward C. Papenfuse, et. al., Archives of Maryland Online Vol. 426, 119. Walter H. Buck, in a letter titled “Bayley (Bailey)” within Notes and Queries section of Maryland Historical Magazine, Vol. 61, September 1946, page 256, asked if Mr. Bayly was related to Pierce Bayley of Loundon County, Virginia. It seems he was related.
 Harry Wright Newman, Charles County Gentry (Baltimore: Genealogical Publishing Co., 2002 reprint), 123, 140-141, 195-198. The Edelen house in Prince George’s County, Maryland may be related to this family.
 A Biographical Dictionary of the Maryland Legislature 1635-1789 by Edward C. Papenfuse, et. al., Archives of Maryland Online Vol. 426, 119.
 Victory, Leonard Smith, 468 Acres, Frederick County Circuit Court, Certificates, Patented, FR, April 29, 1755, Patented Certificate 4960 [MSA S1197-5387]. Courtesy of http://plato.mdarchives.state.md.us/; Deed between Mountjoy Bayley and Joseph Smith, Dec. 31, 1784, Frederick County Court, Land Records, Liber WR 5, p. 273-275 [MSA CE 108-25]. Courtesy of mdlandrec.net; Deed between Mountjoy Bayley and Hugh Young, Sept. 25, 1784, Frederick County Court, Land Records, Liber WR 4, p. 413- [MSA CE 108-24]. Courtesy of mdlandrec.net. Also referred to on page 5 of Liber 5.
 Deed Between Mountjoy Bailey and Christopher Edelen, Dec. 11, 1785, Frederick County Court, Land Records, Liber WR 6, p. 230-232 [MSA CE 108-26]. Courtesy of mdlandrec.net.
 Purchase of enslaved Blacks by Mountjoy Bailey from Christopher Edelen, Dec. 30, 1785, Frederick County Court, Land Records, Liber WR 6, p. 250 [MSA CE 108-26]. Courtesy of mdlandrec.net.
 Deed between Mountjoy Baily and Benjamin Dulany, Mar. 4, 1786, Frederick County Court, Land Records, Liber WR 6, p. 344-345 [MSA CE 108-26]. Courtesy of mdlandrec.net; Deed between Mountjoy Bayly, Joseph Young, and George Scott, Apr. 7, 1787, Frederick County Court, Land Records, Liber WR 7, p. 220-221 [MSA CE 108-27]. Courtesy of mdlandrec.net; Mortgage by Mountjoy Bayly with George Schuertzell and Peter Mantz, Jan. 31, 1788, Frederick County Court, Land Records, Liber WR 7, p. 674-676 [MSA CE 108-27]. Courtesy of mdlandrec.net; Salsbury Plains Helpt, Christopher Edelin, 131 Acres, May 23, 1774, Frederick County Circuit Court, Certificates, Patented, FR, Patented Certificate 4198 [MSA S1197-4619]. Courtesy of http://plato.mdarchives.state.md.us/; Deed between Mountjoy Bayly, his wife, and Johnson Baker, Jan. 6, 1789, Frederick County Court, Land Records, Liber WR 8, p. 460-461 [MSA CE 108-28]. Courtesy of mdlandrec.net.
 A Biographical Dictionary of the Maryland Legislature 1635-1789 by Edward C. Papenfuse, et. al., Archives of Maryland Online Vol. 426, 119.
 A Biographical Dictionary of the Maryland Legislature 1635-1789 by Edward C. Papenfuse, et. al., Archives of Maryland Online Vol. 426, 119. Specifically he would serve in the Maryland General Assembly in 1785, 1786, 1786-1787, 1789, 1790, and 1793.
 A Biographical Dictionary of the Maryland Legislature 1635-1789 by Edward C. Papenfuse, et. al., Archives of Maryland Online Vol. 426, 119.
 Robert W. Coakley, The Role of Federal Military Forces in Domestic Disorders, 1789–1878 (DIANE Publishing, 1996), 67. I get this part about the “progressive tax code” from what William Hogeland writes in Founding Finance. I haven’t read his book titled The Whiskey Rebellion yet, but it is still worth mentioning here.
 Robert W. Coakley, The Role of Federal Military Forces in Domestic Disorders, 1789-1879 (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Army Center of Military History, 1988), 49. He cites letters of Bayley to Lee and vice versa within vol. 18 of Red Book, item 138 and the Council Letterbook. Specifically see the following within Red Books: 1794, Sep. 12. BAILEY, MOUNTJOY (Frederick Town) to GOV. Militia preparations for the Whiskey Rebellion. MSA S 989-2908, MdHR 4583-137 1 /6 /4 /15.
 Founders Online cites “ALS, Hall of Records of Maryland, Annapolis” as a source, referring to the Maryland State Archives of course. It also says that “a similar account of these events is in The Maryland Journal, and the Baltimore Advertiser, September 22, 1794.”
 A Biographical Dictionary of the Maryland Legislature 1635-1789 by Edward C. Papenfuse, et. al., Archives of Maryland Online Vol. 426, 119.
 First Census of the United States, 1790, Frederick, Maryland, National Archives, NARA M637, Records of the Bureau of the Census, Record Group 29, Roll 3, Page 165. Courtesy of Ancestry.com and HeritageQuest; A Biographical Dictionary of the Maryland Legislature 1635-1789 by Edward C. Papenfuse, et. al., Archives of Maryland Online Vol. 426, 119.
 Manumission of an enslaved Black woman named Jenny, Jan. 12, 1790, Frederick County Court, Land Records, Liber WR 9, p. 14-15 [MSA CE 108-29]. Courtesy of mdlandrec.net. This also means she was born in 1773.
 Transaction between Mountjoy Bayly and Peter Mantz, July 30, 1790, Frederick County Court, Land Records, Liber WR 9, p. 331-333 [MSA CE 108-29]. Courtesy of mdlandrec.net; Deed between Mountjoy Bayly and Henry Elser, Oct. 22, 1793, Frederick County Court, Land Records, Liber WR 12, p. 226-228 [MSA CE 108-32]. Courtesy of mdlandrec.net; Deed between Mountjoy Bailey and William Campbell, Jan. 23, 1798, Frederick County Court, Liber WR 16, p. 165-166 [MSA CE 108-36]. Courtesy of mdlandrec.net; Deed between Mountjoy Bayly and John Payder, Sept. 18, 1799, Frederick County Court, Land Records, Liber WR 19, p. 41-42 [MSA CE 108-39]. Courtesy of mdlandrec.net. Campbell was reportedly a veteran who had served as a captain in the Maryland Line.
 Indenture between Mountjoy Bailey and Alexander Hamilton, April 28, 1799, Frederick County Court, Land Records, Liber WR 18, p. 241-243 [MSA CE 108-38]. Courtesy of mdlandrec.net; Resurvey On All Marys Mistake, Alexander Masheen, 73 1/4 Acres, Frederick County Circuit Court, Certificates, Patented, FR, Oct. 23, 1755, Patented Certificate 3281 [MSA S1197-3699]. Courtesy of http://plato.mdarchives.state.md.us/; Alexanders Prospect, Alexander McKeen, 310 Acres, Frederick County Circuit Court, Certificates, Patented, FR, May 25, 1768, Patented Certificate 269 [MSA S1197-333]. Courtesy of http://plato.mdarchives.state.md.us/; Douthets Chance, Alexander McKeen, 280 Acres, Frederick County Circuit Court, Certificates, Patented, FR, Oct. 30, 1752, Patented Certificate 1177 [MSA S1197-1241]. Courtesy of http://plato.mdarchives.state.md.us/. When the Resurvey tract was originally surveyed in 1765, it consisted of 67 3/4 acres and when Alexander’s Prospect was originally surveyed in 1766, 167 acres were vacant and only 143 acres occupied. As for Douthet’s Chance, this tract was originally surveyed in 1750 and was 280 acres.
 Bond between Mountjoy Bayly and John Payder, Oct. 5, 1797, Frederick County Court, Land Records, Liber WR 15, p. 659-660 [MSA CE 108-35]. Courtesy of mdlandrec.net.
 Deed between Mountjoy Bayly, Elizabeth Bayly, Rebecca Edelin, John Lynn, Eleanor Lynn, John Hodge Bayard, Rebecca Bayard, Thomas Crabbs, Dec. 2, 1797, Frederick County Court, Liber WR 16, p. 96-98 [MSA CE 108-36]. Courtesy of mdlandrec.net; Arrangement between Mountjoy Bayley, others, and Charles M. Turner, May 31, 1798, Frederick County Court, Liber WR 17, p. 28-30 [MSA CE 108-37]. Courtesy of mdlandrec.net. In the first deed listed, the executors of Christopher Edelin’s estate (the father of Bayly’s wife, Elizabeth) have recovered some of the estate, including the house, after it was under a mortgage, and furthmore, Mountjoy Bayly, Elizabeth Bayly, Rebecca Edelin, John Lynn, Eleanor Lynn, John Hodge Bayard, and Rebecca Bayard are paid 200 pounds and now have control of the whole estate. For the second one, there is an arrangement between the Bayly and Edelin families involved in dividing up the estate of Charles M. Turner, removing certain claims on his estate.
 Second Census of the United States, 1800, Liberty, Frederick, Maryland, National Archives, NARA M32, Records of the Bureau of the Census, Record Group 29, Roll 10, Page 221. Courtesy of Ancestry.com and HeritageQuest.
 At the request of Genl. Mountjoy Bayly, April 25, 1801, Frederick County Court, Land Records, Liber WR 19, p. 307 [MSA CE 108-39]. Courtesy of mdlandrec.net; Notice by Mountjoy Bayley, July 20, 1803, Frederick County County, Land Records, Liber WR 24, p. 557-558 [MSA CE 108-44]. Courtesy of mdlandrec.net.
 Deed between Mountjoy Bailey and William Emmit, Sept. 9, 1800, Frederick County Court, Land Records, Liber WR 20, p. 157-159 [MSA CE 108-40]. Courtesy of mdlandrec.net; Indenture between Mountjoy Bailey and John Ringer, Oct. 2, 1800, Frederick County Court, Land Records, Liber WR 20, p. 213-215 [MSA CE 108-40]. Courtesy of mdlandrec.net; Indenture between Mountjoy Bailey and Patrick Reed, Nov. 26, 1800, Frederick County Court, Land Records, Liber WR 20, p. 314-315 [MSA CE 108-40]. Courtesy of mdlandrec.net.
 Indenture between Mountjoy Bayly and Michael Dutro, April 18, 1801, Frederick County Court, Land Records, Liber WR 21, p. 100-101 [MSA CE 108-41]. Courtesy of mdlandrec.net.
 Millard Milburn Rice, New Facts and Old Families: From the Records of Frederick County, Maryland (Baltimore: Geneaological Publishing Inc., 2002, reprint), vi, 128, 132-134; Thomas John Chew Williams and Folger McKinsey, History of Frederick County, Maryland, Vol. 1 (Frederick, MD: L.R. Titsworth & Co. 1910, 2003 reprint), 781, 860, 982-983, 200, 1282, 1364, 1654-1655, 1657, 1716; John Clagett Proctor, Johannes Heintz and His Descendants (Greenville, PA, 1918), 80; Muster Rolls and Other Records of Service of Maryland Troops in the American Revolution, Archives of Maryland Online, Vol. 18, 681.
 Henry Sassaman Dotterer, The Dotterer Family (Philadelphia: Henry Sassman Dotterer, 1903), 74-76, 78; Second Census of the United States, 1800, Westminster, Frederick, Maryland, National Archives, NARA M32, Records of the Bureau of the Census, Record Group 29, Roll 10, Page 193. Courtesy of Ancestry.com and HeritageQuest. Other sources, like History of Carrollton Manor, Frederick County, Md, show the long-standing roots of his family in the county.
 Account between Mountjoy Baley and Jacob Jumper, June 2, 1803, Frederick County County, Land Records, Liber WR 24, p. 557-558 [MSA CE 108-44]. Courtesy of mdlandrec.net.
 Indenture between Mountjoy Bayly and John Cockey, Jr., April 20, 1801, Frederick County Court, Land Records, Liber WR 21, p. 118-120 [MSA CE 108-41]. Courtesy of mdlandrec.net; Deed between Mountjoy Bayley and John Ringer, April 26, 1801, Frederick County Court, Land Records, Liber WR 21, p. 121-122 [MSA CE 108-41]. Courtesy of mdlandrec.net. In the latter record, John Ringer’s wife is described to be Ann.
 Deed of Mountjoy Bayly to Samuel Bayly, 1808,Washington County Court, Land Records, Original, Liber S, p. 1020-1021 [MSA CE 67-17]. Courtesy of mdlandrec.net.
 Margaret Lail Hopkins, Index to the Tithables of Loudoun County, Virginia, and to Slaveholders and Slaves, 1758-1786. Baltimore, MD, USA: Genealogical Publishing Co., 1991), 731. This record, apart from access on Ancestry, can also be found here.
 Further searches show that this property was purchased by William Claggett after 1806.
 Top signature comes from page 158 of 1800 “deed between Mountjoy Bailey and William Emmit.” The second and third signatures come from page 214 of 1800 “Indenture between Mountjoy Bailey and John Ringer.” The fourth and fith signature comes from page 315 of 1800 “Indenture between Mountjoy Bailey and Patrick Reed.” The sixth and seventh signatures comes from page 101 of the 1801 “Indenture between Mountjoy Bayly and Michael Dutro.” The eighth and ninth signatures come from page 120 of the 1801 “Indenture between Mountjoy Bayly and John Cockey, Jr.”
 Thomas J. McGuire, The Philadelphia Campaign, Vol. 1: Brandywine and the fall of Philadelphia (Mechanicsburg, PA: Stackpole Books, 2006), 368-369. McGuire notes that he served for years as “doorkeeper of the Senate and sergeant-at-arms,” and he spelled his last name Bayly. The People of the Founding Era database shows, that Bayly served in the army, was a Sergeant-at-Arms, Doorkeeper, and Officer.
 Pension of Mountjoy Bayly, Revolutionary War Pension and Bounty-Land Warrant Application Files, National Archives, NARA M804, S-12094, BLWt 685-300. Courtesy of Ancestry.com and HeritageQuest.
 Fourth Census of the United States, 1820, Washington Ward 4, Washington, District of Columbia, National Archives, NARA M33, Records of the Bureau of the Census, Record Group 29, Roll M33_5, Page 104. Courtesy of Ancestry.com and HeritageQuest.
 Thomas J. Carrier, Washington D.C.: A Historical Walking Tour (Charleston, SC: Arcadia Publishing, 2005 reprint), 18; Washington on Foot, Fifth Edition (ed. John J. Protopappas and Alvin R. Mcneal, Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution, 2012), 31. Carrier writes that this house, built in 1822, served as Bayly’s residence as doorkeeper and sergeant-at-arms of the US Senate. It does not mention the selling of the house in 1828.
 Judah Dulano, The Washington Directory: Showing the Name, Occupation, and Residence, of Each Head of a Family and Person in Business : the Names of the Members of Congress, and where They Board : Together with Other Useful Information (Washington: William Duncan, 1822), 15.
 William Cranch, “Patons and Butcher v. E.J. Lee,” April Term, 1826 within Reports of Cases Civil and Criminal in the United States Circuit Court of the District of Columbia, from 1801 to 1841, Vol. 2 (Washington: William M. Morrison and Company, 1852), 649-650.
 Fifth Census of the United States, 1830,Washington Ward 4, Washington, District of Columbia, National Archives, NARA M19, Records of the Bureau of the Census, Record Group 29, Roll 14, Page 2. Courtesy of Ancestry.com and HeritageQuest.
 Fifth Census of the United States, 1830, Georgetown, Washington, District of Columbia, National Archives, NARA M19, Records of the Bureau of the Census, Record Group 29, Roll 14, Page 142. Courtesy of Ancestry.com and HeritageQuest; Fourth Census of the United States, 1820, Georgetown, Washington, District of Columbia, National Archives, NARA M33, Records of the Bureau of the Census, Record Group 29, Roll M33_5, Page 51. Courtesy of Ancestry.com and HeritageQuest.
 In 1820, George Bailey, John Bailey (two of the same name), Lucy Bailey, Winder Bailey, and Winney Bailey are listed as living in DC. In 1830, a William Bailey, Lanor Baily, Thomas Baily, and Margaret Bayley are listed as living in DC. Even in 1800, Jesse Bailey (two of the same name), Robert Bailey (likely his brother), William Bailey, Daniel Bayly, and John Bealeyare listed as living in DC.
 Pension of Mountjoy Bayly, Revolutionary War Pension and Bounty-Land Warrant Application Files, National Archives, NARA M804, S-12094, BLWt 685-300. Courtesy of Ancestry.com and HeritageQuest.
 A Biographical Dictionary of the Maryland Legislature 1635-1789 by Edward C. Papenfuse, et. al., Archives of Maryland Online Vol. 426, 119.
 Ibid. This disproves, once again, the idea he lived in Maryland’s Washington County.
 BAYLY, McKENDREC. Washington, July 5. “Gen. Mountjoy Bayly.” The Washington Post (1923-1954): 8. Jul 10 1934. ProQuest. Web. 22 May 2017.
 Hiltner, George J. “The Cloisters Willed as Art Museum.” The Sun (1837-1991): 2. Oct 20 1972. ProQuest. Web. 22 May 2017. An ancestry search of city directories reveals a man named “George MountjoyBayley,” a Sergeant, living in New York in 1830. It is not known if he is related to Mr. Bayly.
 “GAMBLING IN WASHINGTON.” New York Times (1857-1922): 2. Dec 01 1872. ProQuest. Web. 22 May 2017; “$16,800 Collection Stolen Downtown.” The Sun (1837-1991): 1. Oct 29 1972. ProQuest. Web. 22 May 2017.
 For instance, I found Mr. Bayly mentioned in this soldier’s pension, and numerous books within the collections of the Virginia Historical Society on the geneaology of the Bayly family apparently, with the call number of “F 104 N6 A6 v.86 no.3-4 General Collection” Reportedly p. 235, 236, 239-241, 244, 245, 247, 249, 250 of A Hessian Officer’s Diary of the American Revolution talks about Baily. He is also listed in letters I don’t have access to within the War Department Papers. Records within Maryland State Papers Series A of Bailey: “Receipt of money for enlistment purposes” (1776), “Receipt of funds for recruitment” (1777), “Order to pay and receipt by Capt. Mountjoy Bailey for militia pay” (1778), “Order to pay and receipt by Capt. Mountjoy Bailey” (1778), “Account of provisions” (1780), “Order to pay Capt. Mountjoy Bailey” (1780), “Order to pay Capt. Mountjoy Bailey” (1780), “Account for provisions” (1781), “Account for hay and corn” (1781), “Account for beef and flour” (1781), “Appointment as auctioneer and commander of the guard” (1781), “Court-martial of Col. Winchester’s Select Militia Comp.; need for wood” (1781), “Order to pay Maj. Mountjoy Bailey” (1781), “Assignment of pay to Mountjoy Bailey” (1781), “Sales account of confiscated property” (1782), “Insufficient number of guards for prisoners” (1782), “Request for funds for military expenses” (1782), “Order prohibiting liquor within the prison camp” (1782), “Appointment as sutler” (1782), “Defense of actions as commanding officer” (1782), “Defense of his actions; need for additional guards for prisoners” (1782), “Replacement of prisoner guards” (1782), “Lack of prisoner guards” (1782), “Deposition of Mr. Thomas concerning actions of Dr. Fisher” (1782), “Court of Equity proceedings; request for new prisoners guards; indenture of German prisoners” (1782), “Order to pay and receipt by Mountjoy Bailey” (1782), “Order to pay and receipt by Maj. Mountjoy Bayly” (1782), “Notification of debtors leaving the state” (1783), “Assignment of pay to Mountjoy Bailey” (1783?), “Reassignment of pay to Mountjoy Bailey” (1783?), “Order to give his pay to Mountjoy Bailey” (1784), “Assignment of pay to Mountjoy Bailey” (1784), “Assignment of pay to Mountjoy Bailey” (1784), “Request to give his pay to Mountjoy Bailey” (1784), “Assignment of pay to Mountjoy Bailey” (1784), “Assignment of pay to Mountjoy Bailey” (1784), “Reassignment of pay to Mountjoy Bailey” (1784), “Reassignment of pay to Mountjoy Bailey” (1784), “Reassignment of pay to Mountjoy Bailey” (1784), “Reassignment of pay to Mountjoy Bailey” (1784), “Reassignment of pay and gratuity to Mountjoy Bailey” (1784), “Reassignment of pay to Mountjoy Bailey” (1784), “Reassignment of pay and gratuity to Mountjoy Bailey” (1784), “Assignment of pay to Mountjoy Bailey” (1785), “Reassignment of pay to Mountjoy Bailey” (1785), “Account and receipt for sale of confiscated property in FR” (1785), “Certification of Maj. Mountjoy Bailey’s services” (1785), “Statement of Mountjoy Bailey’s service in stopping pillage of timber from confiscated property” (1785), “Order to pay and receipt by Maj. Mountjoy Bailey” (1785), “Pertaining to Col. Wood’s request for a reappointment as magistrate” (1785), “Recommendation of Nicholas White as armorer” (1786), “Requests return of a letter” (1786), and “Refusal of Maj. Mountjoy Bailey to settle the account of Christopher Edelin” (1787). There are likely more records, so this is just a a sampling.
An Irish-born man named Robert Ratliff, a Baltimorean named William Marr, a Marylander likely born in Cecil County named George Lashley, a Charles County man named John Plant, another man from the same county named John Neal, another Marylander likely born in Cecil County named John Lowry, and one Marylander likely born in the same county named William Dawson all have one thing in common: they had fought in the Maryland Line. While Ratliff was a five foot, eight inch tall man who was part of the Seventh Independent Company, which recruited from the Eastern Shore, just like Dawson, Marr and Lashley were part of the Col. Nathaniel Ramsey’s Fifth Company, mustered at Whetstone Point (present-day Fort McHenry), part of the First Maryland Regiment.  As for the other Marylanders, Plant and Neal were part of Captain John Hoskins Stone‘s First Company of the First Maryland Regiment, enlisted in Port Tobacco, Maryland, while Lowry was part of Captain Peter Adams‘s Sixth Company of the First Maryland Regiment.  Even with arguably shared military experience, their lives after the revolutionary war were different and tell us about the lives of Maryland soldiers in later years.
After the war, Dawson returned to Cecil County. On December 29, 1780, he married a woman named Elizabeth Graves, with the matrimony affirmed by minister William Thomson of an Episcopal Church in Elkton, Maryland. The same year, on February 27, Neal stayed in Somerset County, where he had been discharged, marrying a local woman named Margaret Miller in Boundbrook, New Jersey.  They had two children named Benjamin (b. 1781) and Theodocia (b. 1802).
As for Lowry, in 1783, he was living as a single man in Harford County’s Spesutia Upper Hundred.  The same year, Dawson was in a similar predicament. He was described as a pauper, living on the land, which was likely rented, with nine other inhabitants.  While Dawson was granted 50 acres of bounty land in Western Maryland after the war, it sat vacant. He may have felt with fellow veteran Mark McPherson who said the land, located in a remote mountainous area of Western Maryland, was “absolutely good for nothing . . . unfit for Cultivation.”  Plant was also settling down after the war. Living in Charles County, he became a well-off small farmer and slaveowner who owned two horses, one cattle, and one enslaved black child.  The same was also the case with Ratliff, who settled down in Cecil County. In 1783, he lived with his relative, James, who owned four horses and 150 acres of land. 
Three years after Marr ended his war service, he settled down and his life changed. On June 14, 1784, Airey Owings married Marr in Baltimore County at St. Paul’s Parish, with the ceremony conducted by Reverend William West.  Marr and Airey lived in Baltimore County, raised “a family of children,” including a son named William, and he worked as a reputable farmer.  It is possible that Marr’s farm was among the 45.6% of Maryland dwellings that we not taxed, explaining its absence from the 1783 tax assessments.  At this time, Baltimore County had a varied economy with ” furnaces, forges, cotton mills, and wollen factories,” even by the early 19th century, while Baltimore was gaining importance as a commercial center.  One “William Marr” is listed in the 1810 US Census as the head of household along with his wife and three children: one male child under 10, one male under 16, and one female under age 10. 
Coming back to Neal, while he was living in New Jersey, he served in the militia in Somerset County, which fought off British incursions in New Jersey until the end of the war, serving at least one four-month term.  In the county, called the “crossroads of the revolution” by some, the destruction of the war had dissipated by the 1780s, with industry and commerce thriving in the final years of the war even as militiamen decried depreciation of Continental currency. 
On October 13, 1787, Ratliff married Mary Kirk.  A few years later, on December 23, 1800, he married another woman named Anne Husler.  The reason he remarried is that his wife died. At some point, Anne died and he married a third time to woman named Elizabeth, who survived him.  He had two children named James and Elizabeth, but the mother’s name is not known.
As for Plant, on June 15, 1788, he married an eighteen-year-old woman named Mary Ann Davis.  He later reminisced about his revolutionary service with his cousin, William Stewart, who said that Plant had “strict integrity” and good character.  Sadly, more recounts on his memories on his war service other than a few pages of his pension cannot be found.
At some point before 1788, while living in Harford County, Lowry married a woman named Hannah Finney.  In the spring of 1788, Finney’s mother, Manassah, died, and willed ten acres of her farm to Finney and Lowry to use until 1789.  This bequest reaffirmed a lease Lowry and Manassah made in 1783 that the farm was near Welles Swamp, and was given under certain conditions.  Likely the farm was on one of the two tracts owned by Manassah in Harford County’s Deer Creek Middle Hundred, named Giles and Webster’s Discovery, a tract of land that spanned 70 acres in total.  While Lowry was called to testify against his brother-in-law, James Barnett, who was the executor of her estate, in 1791, he later received money, along with his wife, when assets of the estate were distributed in 1809. 
By 1790, John Lowry was living with his wife, and possibly two children, in Cecil County’s Elk Neck.  They were possibly living on a 100-acre land tract, which he had leased to a wealthy Cecil County man named Samuel Redgrave in February 1781.  The tract was called Tedart and sat on the west side of the Elk River. The tract had been owned by his father, James, before his death.
In the late 1790s, Ratliff and his wife were living in Kent County, Maryland.  In 1802, still living in Kent County, he bought land in New Castle County, Delaware, preparing for the next stage of his life. 
Years later, in 1805, he was living in Harford County and received compensation for his revolutionary war service.  However, in the early nineteenth century, Lowry bought land in Fells Point, Baltimore, called Leasehold, some of which he leased, and lived in Baltimore County until his death.  At that time, he was staying with his second wife, Elizabeth Maidwell, who he had married on October 22, 1801.  In the fall of 1804, she leased him land in the town of Baltimore, for the next 99 years, which had part of the estate of her former husband, Alexander Maidwell.  The fate of Lowry’s first wife, Hannah, is not known.
In later years, Plant and his wife moved to what became Washington, D.C. At the time, it was a largely rural and sparsely populated area which had thriving ports at Georgetown and Alexanders, in addition to the federal town of Washington City, which had about 8,200 inhabitants.  Slavemasters and over 7,900 enslaved blacks living in the area were an important part of D.C.’s society.  Plant died there on November 14, 1808. 
As for Dawson, in later years, he lived in the Bohemia Manor area of Cecil County, Maryland, staying there until 1810, with his wife Elizabeth and one child whose name is not currently known.  In 1808, he petitioned the Maryland House of Delegates saying he had served in the Revolutionary War and prayed “to be placed on the pension list.”  The House of Delegates endorsed his plea and in 1810, Dawson, a “meritorious soldier in the revolutionary war,” in an “indigent situation” because of his old age, was paid the half pay of a private.  He was paid a state pension for years to come. Sometime in the fall of 1815, before September 6, John Lowry died in Baltimore County without a will, and his estate was administered by Cornelius Willis. 
In 1810, Ratliff was living in St. George’s Hundred, in the same county of Delaware, with his wife, children, and two enslaved blacks.  A few years later, in 1813, he was a farmer in Delaware’s Appoquinimink Hundred, on a plot of land with his wife.  He was well-off, owning a walnut dining table, small looking glass, 3 cows, 7 sheep, and a few horses.  Being very “weak in body,” Ratliff wrote his will on April 5, 1813, making his “beloved wife” Elizabeth his executor, manumitted an black enslaved woman, named Jane, and distributed his land to his children.  He died sometime between the writing of his will and collection of testimony on November 3, 1814.
Neal, like Dawson, also had moved out of the state. By 1810, he and his family had moved to Ovid, New York, in the northern part of the state near the Finger Lakes, where they lived. Once there, he filed for his Federal veterans pension in 1818.  Two years later, he lived in the adjoining town of Covert, New York on a half-acre of land, with a wooden clock, a chest, and some cookery, a shabby wagon, small pigs, one cow, and eight sheep.  In his pension application, he claimed to be in “reduced circumstances” and that he had lost his discharge papers or any other paper records proving his service in the First Maryland Line, an appeal that was successful.
After the war, Lashley continued to live in the state of Maryland. On April 25, 1816, Lashley married Jane Bashford, a 41-year-old woman, in Cecil County. 
In 1819, one year after Marr began collecting his pension and one day before July 4, he died in Baltimore at the age of 66.  He died without making a will and left Airey a widow, who never remarried, allowing her to receive pension money at his death.  She lived to April 1843, aged 79, working to collect some of the pension in the 1830s and 1840s given due to her late husband’s military service.  At his death, while he may not have been well honored by people within the military and different levels of government, his story is still one worth telling.
In September 1820, when Lashley began receiving his federal pension, despite losing his discharge papers, he was living in the same county with his wife and had no children or heirs.  Since his memory was failing him, he originally said he was part of the Second Maryland Regiment, but later corrected himself and two long-time residents recalled seeing him march “away with the said [Ramsey’s] Company.” 
In Dawson’s 1820 application for his Federal veterans pension, he said that his wife was sixty years old and “infirm,” just like himself.  Additionally, he noted that a young grandchild living with him whom also had to support. He also owned three dollars worth of farm animals (a cow and a calf) and was living in “reduced circumstances” with twenty dollars of debt. His “infirmities of old age,” which had “disabled him in “his left arm and leg,” led him to be classified as an “invalid.”  Despite the fact that his discharge papers had been lost, his pension was granted in the fall of 1820. 
Dawson’s life after this point is unclear. While final payment vouchers say that payments to him ended in 1820, he did not die that year.  Instead, he died on July 11, 1824, and his state pension payments were sent to his administrator, Jane Dawson, possibly his second wife.  The following year, another soldier passed away. On July 22, Neal died in New York State. 
In November 1823, members of Ratliff’s family agreed that Ratliff’s son, James, should own his father’s estate in Delaware.  A few years later, James negotiated to buy his father’s land in Delaware.  By the 1850s, the Ratliff family was still living in Appoquinimink Hundred. 
As for Lashley, in 1827, he received payment from the State of Maryland equal to half pay of a private as a result of his service in the Revolutionary War.  He continued to receive payments quartetly until his death on March 4, 1831 at the age of 76.  Five years later, his declared legal representatives, Mary Sproul and Nancy Lashley, received the money that was due to him before his death in 1831. 
Mary Ann, the wife of Plant, fought to receive her husband’s pension payments. In February 1835, she asked for “remuneration” for her husband’s military service from the U.S. House of Representatives, and following year asked the same from the U.S. Senate.  By 1838, at sixty-eight-years-old, she petitioned the federal government for pension benefits. However, because Plant either had no official discharge papers or had lost them, Mary Ann had trouble receiving money.  Her fate is not known.
 Marriage of William Dawson and Elizabeth Graves, 1780, Cecil County Court, Marriage Licenses, MdHR 9435, p. 23 [MSA C632-1, 1/11/6/38]; Collections of the Historical Society of Pennsylvania, Vol. 1 (Philadelphia: John Pennington and Henry C. Baird, 1853), 338-389.
 Pension of John Neal; Ronald V. Jackson, Accelerated Indexing Systems, comp. New Jersey Census, 1643-1890. Courtesy of Ancestry.com. It is likely that he knew Miller before he married her in 1780, possibly from his militia service.
 Record of John Lowry, 1783, General Assembly House of Delegates, Assessment Record, p. 54 [MSA S1161-67, 1/4/5/49].
 William Dawson record, 1783, Cecil County Fourth District, General Assembly House of Delegates, Assessment Record, p. 6 [MSA S1161-39, 1/4/5/47].
 Westward of Fort Cumberland: Military Lots Set Off for Maryland’s Revolutionary Soldiers (ed. Mary K. Meyer, Westminister: Heritage Books, 2008), 21, 103; William Dawson’s lot in Western Maryland, Land Office, Lots Westward of Fort Cumberland, MdHR 17302, p. 27 [SE1-1]; Pension of Mark McPherson and Widow’s Pension of Mary McPherson. The National Archives. Revolutionary War Pension and Bounty-Land Warrant Application Files. NARA M804, W 2144. 1-73. From Fold3.com. His lot was number 273.
 John Plant assessment record, 1783, General Assembly House of Delegates, Assessment Record, CH, Seventh District, General, p. 9 [MSA S1161-52, 1/4/5/48]. The child was male and under age eight.
 Record of James Ratliff and Robert Ratliff, 1783, General Assembly House of Delegates, Assessment Record, p. 7 [MSA S1161-37, 1/4/5/46].
 National Archives, Revolutionary War Pension and Bounty-Land Warrant Application Files, NARA M804, Record Group 15, Roll 1631, William Marr, Pension number W. 3838. courtesy of fold3.com; Marriage of William Marr and Arrey Owings; “Part IV: Marriages proved through Maryland pension applications,” Maryland Revolutionary Records, pp. 118; Bill and Martha Reamy, Records of St. Paul’s Parish Vol. 1, xi, 39, 150.
 National Archives, Revolutionary War Pension and Bounty-Land Warrant Application Files, NARA M804, Record Group 15, Roll 1631, William Marr, Pension number W. 3838. courtesy of fold3.com.
 Shammas, “The Housing Stock of the Early United States: Refinement Meets Migration,” 557, 559, 563.
 McGrain, From Pig Iron to Cotton Duck: A History of Manufacturing Villages in Baltimore County; Vol. I, 2; Hall, Baltimore: Its History and Its People; Vol. 1, 39, 56; Hollander, The Financial History of Baltimore; Vol. 20, 17.
 Third Census of the United States, 1810. (NARA microfilm publication M252, 71 rolls). Bureau of the Census, Record Group 29. National Archives, Washington, D.C.
 Pension of John Van Tuyl, Revolutionary War Pension and Bounty-Land Warrant Application Files, National Archives, NARA M804, Record Group 15, Roll 2451, pension number W.22483. Courtesy of Fold3.com; Service Card of John Sebring, Compiled Service Records of Soldiers Who Served in the American Army During the Revolutionary War, National Archives, NARA M881, Record Group 93, Roll 0641. Courtesy of Fold3.com; Pension of Folkerd Sebring, Revolutionary War Pension and Bounty-Land Warrant Application Files, National Archives, NARA M804, Record Group 15, Roll 2147, pension number W. 24926. Courtesy of Fold3.com; Pension of Abraham Sebring, Revolutionary War Pension and Bounty-Land Warrant Application Files, National Archives, NARA M804, Record Group 15, Roll 2147, pension number S. 22972. Courtesy of Fold3.com; Pension of John Van Tuyl; Pension of John Haas, Revolutionary War Pension and Bounty-Land Warrant Application Files, National Archives, NARA M804, Record Group 15, Roll 1150, pension number S. 1,012. Courtesy of Fold3.com; Pension of Isaac Manning, Revolutionary War Pension and Bounty-Land Warrant Application Files, National Archives, NARA M804, Record Group 15, Roll 1624, pension number W. 7400. Courtesy of Fold3.com; Pension of David King, Revolutionary War Pension and Bounty-Land Warrant Application Files, National Archives, NARA M804, Record Group 15, Roll 1428, pension number S. 13655. Courtesy of Fold3.com; Pension of Jacob Mesler, Revolutionary War Pension and Bounty-Land Warrant Application Files, National Archives, NARA M804, Record Group 15, Roll 1717, pension number R. 7143. Courtesy of Fold3.com; Pension of John Swaim, Revolutionary War Pension and Bounty-Land Warrant Application Files, National Archives, NARA M804, Record Group 15, Roll 2326, pension number W. 2486. Courtesy of Fold3.com; Pension of Abraham Sebring; 2nd Battalion of Somerset rolls, Revolutionary War Rolls, 1775-1783, National Archives, Record Group 93, NARA M846, Roll 0063, folder 60. Courtesy of Fold3.com; Pension of William Durham, Revolutionary War Pension and Bounty-Land Warrant Application Files, National Archives, NARA M804, Record Group 15, Roll 0874, pension number R. 3160. Courtesy of Fold3.com; James P. Snell and Franklin Ellis, History of Hunterdon and Somerset counties, New Jersey, with illustrations and biographical sketches of its prominent men and pioneers (Philadelphia: Everts & Peck, 1881), 83, 98. Census records show a “John Neale” living in Burlington County in 1790 and 1800, but it cannot be confirmed this is the same person as John Neal.
 William A. Schleicher and Susan J. Winter, Somerset County: Crossroads of the American Revolution (Chicago: Arcadia Publishing, 1999), 7-8, 17-18, 22, 24-25, 34; Multiple authors, Somerset County Historical Quarterly Vol. VII (Somerville, NJ: Somerset County Historical Society, 1919), 18-20, 31, 79, 104, 170-172; Abraham Messler, Centennial History of Somerset County (Somerville: C.M. Jameson Publishers, 1878), 69-71, 74, 77-78, 81, 101, 109-110, 112-113; Richard A. Harrison, Princetonians, 1769-1775: A Biographical Dictionary (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1980), 28-29, 80-81. It may have been called the crossroads because competing Continental and British armies maneuvered in the county and Morristown was also located there.
 Marriage of Mary Kirk and Robert Ratliff, 1787, Cecil County Court, Marriage Licenses, MdHR 9435, p. 45 [MSA C632-1, 1/11/6/38].
 Marriage of Anne Husler and Robert Ratliff, 1800, Cecil County Court, Marriage Licenses, MdHR 9435, p. 127 [MSA C632-1, 1/11/6/38].
 Will of Robert Ratliff, 1813, New Castle County Court House, Wilmington, Delaware, Register of Wills, Book R 1813-1823, p. 40-41. Courtesy of Ancestry.com; Probate of Robert Ratliff, 1814-1815, New Castle, Register of Wills, Delaware State Archives, New Castle County Probates, Record Group 2545. Courtesy of Ancestry.com; Indenture between Robert Ratliff, Elizabeth, and Sarah Baird, June 13, 1799, Kent County Court, Land Records, Liber TW 1, p. 214-216 [MSA CE 118-31].
 Pension of John Plant.
 Ibid. Sadly, the specifics of what Plant told his cousin are not known.
 Muster Rolls and Other Records of Service of Maryland Troops in the American Revolution, Archives of Maryland Online Vol. 18, 661; Will of Manassah Finney, 1788, Harford County Register of Wills, Wills, Liber AJ 2, p. 206-207 [MSA CM599-2, CR 44758-2]. Sometimes her last name is spelled Phinney or Finny.
 Will of Manassah Finney.
 Lease of John Lowry and Manassah Finney, 1788, Harford County Court, Land Records, Liber JLG H, p. 435 [MSA CE 113-8].
 Record of Manasseth Finney, 1783, General Assembly House of Delegates, Assessment Record, p. 90 [MSA S1161-67, 1/4/5/49]; Patent for Manassah Finney, 1774, Land Office, Patent Record, MdHR 17455, Liber BC & GS 44, p. 395-396 [MSA S11-145, 1/23/4/9]; Patent for Manassah Finney, 1772, Land Office, Patent Record, MdHR 17461, Liber BC & GS 50, p. 70 [MSA S11-151, 1/23/4/18]. This assessment record lists Finney as owning two tracts of land: Giles and Webster’s Discovery (75 acres) and Renshaws Last Purchase (50 acres). Other records show that Renshaws Last Purchase was considered part of Baltimore County at one point, so it is unlikely the farm was on this land.
 Peden Jr., 42; Distribution of Manassah Finney’s Estate by James Barnett, June 27, 1809, Harford Register of Wills, Distributions, Liber TSB 1, p. 88-89 [MSA CM557-1, CR 10960-1].
 Census for Elk Neck, Cecil, Maryland, First Census of the United States, 1790, National Archives, NARA M637, Records of the Bureau of the Census, Record Group 29, roll 3, page 323, image 553. Courtesy of Ancestry.com.
 Lease of John Lowrey and Samuel Readgrave, February 3, 1781, Cecil County, Land Records, Liber 15, p. 88-89 [MSA CE 133-17]; Record of Samuel Redgrave, 1783, General Assembly House of Delegates, Assessment Record, Cecil County Fourth District, p. 1, 10 [MSA S 1161-4-2, 1/4/5/47].
 Indenture between Robert Ratliff, Elizabeth, and Sarah Baird.
 Record of Robert Ratliff, June 1802, Delaware, Land Records, 1677–1947, Delaware Public Archives, Recorder of Deeds, New Castle County, RG 2555, Subgroup 000, Series 011, p. 440, 442. Courtesy of Ancestry.com; Session Laws, 1824, Archives of Maryland Online Vol. 629, 44. Ratliff owned land near John Zillefro/Zilerfrow. This man was the first husband of Rachel Ozier, who was living with her second husband, Maryland 400 veteran Andrew Meloan, and their children, in Montgomery County, Kentucky at the time.
 Journal of the House of Representatives of the United States: At the Second Session of the Eighth Congress, in the Twenty-ninth Year of the Independence of the United States (Washington City: Samuel Harrison Smith, 1805), 242.
 Purchase of land by John Lowry from Elizabeth Mains, October 10, 1803, Baltimore County Court, Land Records, Liber WG 78, p. 363-365 [MSA CE 66-128]; Deed and Gift of land to John Lowrey from Joseph Lambert, December 1803, Baltimore County Court, Land Records, Liber WG 78, p. 365-366 [MSA CE 66-128]; John Lowry lease to John Griffith, April 11, 1805, Baltimore County Court, Land Records, Liber WG 84, p. 412-413 [MSA CE 66-134]; List of Letters Remaining at the Post-Office, Baltimore, June 6, 1800, Federal Gazette, Baltimore, June 7, 1800, Vol. XII, issue 2040, p. 2. Two men named John Lowry are recorded as living in Baltimore in 1800.
 Marriage of John Lowry and Elizabeth Maidwell, October 22, 1801, Baltimore County Court, Marriage Licenses, MdHR 9122, p. 59 [MSA C376-2, 2/14/14/12].
 Elizabeth Maidwell lease to John Lowrey, November 1, 1804, Baltimore County Court, Land Records, Liber WG 84, p. 410-412 [MSA CE 66-134]; Marriage of Alexander Maidwell and Elizabeth Winnick, April 27, 1795, Baltimore County Court, Marriage Licenses, MdHR 9121, p. 143 [MSA C376-1, 2/14/14/11]. Elizabeth Maidwell, whose maiden name was Winnick, had only married Alexander Maidwell, her first husband, in April 1795.
 J. D. Dickey, Empire of Mud: The Secret History of Washington, DC (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2014), ix, xiv, xvii, 1, 3, 4, 7-9, 12, 14-15, 17, 19-22, 24-25, 28, 31; Tom Lewis, Washington: A History of Our National City (New York: Basic Books, 2015), xx, 1, 10, 14, 20, 24. The estimate of population comes from data assembled by Social Explorer for the 1810 census.
 According to data assembled by Social Explorer for the 1810 census, the rural Washington County, a jurisdiction within D.C., had only about 2,300 residents, a county Plant may have lived in. This data also shows 7,944 non-white persons, excluding Indians, living in D.C. in 1810.
 Pension of John Plant.
 Census for Bohemia Manor, Cecil County, 1790, First Census of the United States, 1790, NARA M637, Records of the Bureau of the Census, Record Group 29, roll 3, page 320. Courtesy of Ancestry.com; Census for Bohemia Manor, Cecil County, 1800, Second Census of the United States, 1800, NARA M32, Records of the Bureau of the Census, Record Group 29, roll 10, page 53. Courtesy of Ancestry.com.
 Journal of the House of Delegates, 1808, Archives of Maryland Online Vol. 556, 16, 31, 73.
 Bond of Cornelius Willis, Edward Vernon and William H. Lenox, September 6, 1815, Baltimore County Register of Wills, Administration Bonds, MdHR 11644, Liber 11, p. 76 [MSA C264-11, 2/28/12/35]; Administration Docket of John Lowry, 1815, Baltimore County Register of Wills, Administration Docket, Liber 6, p. 171 [MSA CM130-6, CR 10674-2]. This means none of the three invalid pensioners named John Lowry listed on the 1835 pension rolls are him.
 Census of St. Georges Hundred, New Castle, Delaware, 1810, Third Census of the United States, 1810, National Archives, NARA M252, Bureau of the Census, Record Group 29, Roll 4, Pagw 287. Courtesy of Ancestry.com.
 “Ratliff’s land,” 1813, Delaware, Land Records, 1677–1947, Delaware Public Archives, Recorder of Deeds, New Castle County, RG 2555, Subgroup 000, Series 011, p. 435. Courtesy of Ancestry.com
 Probate of Robert Ratliff. He also owned a young enslaved black male who was only two years old.
 Will of Robert Ratliff.
 Census for Glasgow, New Castle, Delaware, 1810, Third Census of the United States, 1810, NARA M252, Bureau of the Census, Record Group 29, roll 4, page 261. Courtesy of Ancestry.com.
 Pension of William Dawson.
 Pension of William Dawson; Census for Elkton, Cecil County, 1820, Fourth Census of the United States, 1820, NARA M33, Records of the Bureau of the Census, Record Group 29, roll M33_40, page 135. Courtesy of Ancestry.com.
 Pension of John Neal; Tacyn, 318; Pension of Abraham Sebring; Third Census of the United States, 1810, Ovid, Seneca, New York; NARA M252; Bureau of the Census, Record Group 29; National Archives; p. 252; Image: 00160; Family History Library Film: 0181390. Courtesy of Ancestry.com. Ovid included a town and village of the same name which was still small even in 1850 and to the present-day. A number of men named “John Niles” were living in the town of Oneida, as recorded by the 1800 census, which is about 81 to 96 miles away from Ovid, but it cannot be confirmed this is the same man as John Neal.
 Fourth Census of the United States, 1820, Covert, Seneca, New York; NARA M33; Records of the Bureau of the Census, Record Group 29; National Archives, p. 298, Image: 61. Courtesy of Ancestry.com. Covert was a town formed from part of Ovid.
 Marriage of George Leslie and Jane Bashford, 1816, Marriage Licenses, Cecil County Court, MdHR 9435, p. 247 [MSA C632-1, 1/11/6/38].
 Index to Selected Final Payment Vouchers, compiled 1818 – 1864, Record Group 217, roll box06_00007, pensioner William Marr, July 3, 1819. courtesy of fold3.com; National Archives, Revolutionary War Pension and Bounty-Land Warrant Application Files, NARA M804, Record Group 15, Roll 1631, William Marr, Pension number W. 3838. courtesy of fold3.com; United States Senate.The Pension Roll of 1835. 4 vols. 1968 Reprint, with index. Baltimore: Genealogical Publishing Company, 1992; “Persons on the Pension Roll Under the Law of the 18th of March, 1818, Maryland,” Pension List of 1820, pp. 547.
 National Archives, Revolutionary War Pension and Bounty-Land Warrant Application Files, NARA M804, Record Group 15, Roll 1631, William Marr, Pension number W. 3838. courtesy of fold3.com; Adminstration Docket of William Marr.
 Ibid; Archives of Maryland, vol. 214, page 717.
 George Lashley Pension; Marriage of George Leslie and Jane Bashford, 1816, Marriage Licenses, Cecil County Court, MdHR 9435, p. 247 [MSA C632-1, 1/11/6/38].
 George Lashley Pension.
 Pension of William Dawson. Dawson had been applying for pension benefits since 1818.
 Pension of William Dawson.
 Dawson specifically accused Lieutenant John Sears of losing his discharge, saying that “this despondent cannot produce the said discharge, having sent by Lieutenant John Sears to Annapolis” after he was discharged.
 Final Payment Voucher for William Dawson, 1820, Final Revolutionary War Pension Payment Vouchers: Delaware, National Archives, NARA M2079, Record Group 217, Roll 0001. Courtesy of Fold3.com; Final Payment Voucher for William Dawson from General Accounting Office, 1820, Index to Selected Final Payment Vouchers, 1818-1864, National Archives, Record Group 217, box05_00005. Courtesy of Fold3.com. It is clear that William Dawson is not the same as a Justice of the Peace in Talbot County.
 Record of pension payment to William Dawson, Treasurer of the Western Shore, Military Pension Roll, MdHR 4534-4, p. 31 [MSA S613-1, 2/63/10/33]; “Sheriff’s Sale,” American Watchman, Wilmington, Delaware, June 5, 1827, page 3. He may have died in Delaware but this cannot be confirmed. By 1827, his heirs may have been living in Delaware, as a sale by a local sheriff in Wilmington, Delaware, mentions “heirs of William Dawson.” However, it is not known if this the same as Dawson, who may have moved back to Delaware before his death.
 Pension of John Neal; Letter about John Neal, September 18, 1895. New York County, District and Probate Courts. Administration, Vol C-D, 1815-1883, p. 136. Courtesy of Ancestry.com; Seventh Census of the United States, 1850, Hector, Tompkins, New York, NARA M432; Records of the Bureau of the Census, Record Group 29; National Archives; p. 420A, Image: 441. Courtesy of Ancestry.com. His wife, Margaret, was the administrator of Neal’s estate after his death. Years after his death, his wife re-married to a man named John Benjamin Smith. She continued to fight for Neal’s pension payments until at least 1850, living in the small town of Hector, New York, only about 16 miles away from Ovid, with another family. She died in the 1850s, the exact date not known.
 Indenture between James Ratliff and Hannah, Thomas Ratliff and Mary, and Henry Webb and Elizabeth, November 23, 1823, Delaware, Land Records, 1677–1947, Delaware Public Archives, Recorder of Deeds, New Castle County, RG 2555, Subgroup 000, Series 011, p. 4-6. Courtesy of Ancestry.com; Session Laws, 1824, Archives of Maryland Online Vol. 629, 44; Indenture between James Ratliff and Jacob Hornes (Colored Man), May 26, 1826, Delaware, Land Records, 1677–1947, Delaware Public Archives, Recorder of Deeds, New Castle County, RG 2555, Subgroup 000, Series 011, p. 300-301. Courtesy of Ancestry.com. These members of his family included his son James and his wife Hannah in Cecil County, Thomas Ratliff and his wife Mary in Butler County, Ohio, and Elizabeth Webb, his daughter, and Henry Webb. They all received some part of the estate.
 Indenture between James Ratliff and Jacob Hornes (Colored Man).
 Indenture between Thomas Ratliff and Ann Ratliff, October 9, 1854, Delaware, Land Records, 1677–1947, Delaware Public Archives, Recorder of Deeds, New Castle County, RG 2555, Subgroup 000, Series 011, p. 59-62. Courtesy of Ancestry.com.
 George Lashley Pension; State Pension of George Lashley, Treasurer of the Western Shore, Pension Roll, MdHR 4534-4, p. 36, 48 [MSA S613-1, 2/63/10/33].
 Session Laws, 1835 Session. Archives of Maryland Online vol. 214, 754. While his pension says he has no heirs, this legislation says “the heirs and legal representatives of George Lashly.” It is possible that this language is just a formality, but there is no explanation as to why Lashley had heirs by his death or if the legal representatives are his children.
 Journal of the House of Representatives of the United States: Being the Second Session of the Twenty-Third Congress, Begun and Held at the City of Washington, and in the Fifty-Ninth Year of the Independence of the United States (Washington: Gales & Seaton, 1835), 390; “Twenty-Fourth Congress First Session,” Daily National Intelligencer, Washington, D.C., April 26, 1836, Vol. XXIV, issue 7240, p. 3.
 Pension of John Plant. As one ancestor put it years later, this situation led to Mary Ann almost being “deprived of a pension.”