Maryland Loyalists in the American Revolution: Politics, War, and Exile

Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes back guest historian Drew Palmer of Revolutionary Maryland

Part I

The historical memory of the Revolutionary War in Maryland generally focuses on the state’s Patriots. Men such as Otho Holland Williams and John Eager Howard are remembered fondly for their committed, heroic military service to the American cause. Politically, men such as Charles Carroll and William Paca—both signers of the Declaration of Independence and Maryland Patriots—are remembered for their commitment to the cause. Studying and remembering these men is vital to understanding Maryland’s role in the conflict. However, the Revolutionary War was a civil war. A civil war that made men from the same states sworn enemies. Though Maryland is rightly known as a state that contributed immensely to the Patriot cause, both ideologically and materially, it had a sizable and vocal minority of Loyalists who took it upon themselves to fight against the Patriot cause. Just like Maryland Patriots, Maryland’s Loyalists supported their cause both politically and militarily.

Maryland Loyalist courtesy of Don Troiani Art


Geography and Religion

The strength of Loyalist sentiment depended on where you were in Maryland. Baltimore, Annapolis, and the surrounding area mostly favored the Patriots. After the Patriot Committees of Correspondence in Baltimore and Annapolis developed their own networks of communication and governance, they strictly enforced conduct among people living within their areas of control. Anyone deemed an enemy “to the cause of liberty” faced strict legal and extralegal proceedings, along with harsh punishments. Though the Patriot cause already preached ideals of liberty, free speech, and self-governance, Patriot governments ironically cracked down hardest on political dissent early in the conflict. The accused dissenters were expected to beg for forgiveness before a Patriot tribunal.

Many such instances occurred in Baltimore in 1775, when James Dalgleish, a merchant, was accused of saying, “that as soon as the English troops shall land here, he will join them against the Americans, it being a folly for him to longer deny his principles.” The Baltimore Committee of Correspondence deemed Dalgleish dangerous to the cause and an “incurable enmity to this country.” Dalgleish was summoned before a tribunal where he had to beg for forgiveness and blamed his Loyalist speech on his drinking. The Continental Congress declared Dalgleish an “enemy to the liberty of Americans.” Out of fear of violent retribution, Dalgleish fled Baltimore and was never seen again.1

James Christie, another merchant from Baltimore, faced ridicule and ousting from the Baltimore Committee of Observation for saying in a letter that, “we are in such terrible confusion here with our politics, there is no depending on anything, and that makes me wish myself out of this province. We have some fanatical spirits among us, who do everything in their power to run things to the utmost extremity, and they are gone so far, that we moderate people are under a necessity of uniting for our own defense, after being threatened with expulsion and loss of life.”2 Christie was arrested, deemed an enemy to liberty and the people of America, and, “banished from the province forever.”3 Early in the conflict, it was not realistic to be an outspoken Loyalist in most of the Baltimore and Annapolis region due to organized systems of punishment for speaking against the Patriot cause. Outspoken Loyalism was minimal in the greater Baltimore and Annapolis regions. Maryland’s Eastern Shore, on the other side of the Chesapeake Bay, was a different story.

Continue reading “Maryland Loyalists in the American Revolution: Politics, War, and Exile” →

“Road to Revolution” Seminar at Fort Ligonier

Only three weeks are left to register for the “Road to Revolution” Seminar on November 6-7! Emerging Revolutionary War is excited to partner with Fort Ligonier for this seminar focusing on the early years of the Revolutionary War and connections to the French and Indian War in western Pennsylvania. Saturday’s speaker lineup includes ERW’s very own Dan Welch, as well as renowned authors Michael Harris, Kevin Weddle, and other great presenters. More information about the event and how to register can be found here. We hope to see you there!

Rank-and-File Research

A quick Google search reveals that approximately 230,000 men served in the Continental Army during the eight years of the American Revolutionary War. A handful of those rank-and-file soldiers are well known, like Joseph Plumb Martin. A smattering of junior officers, like John Eager Howard or Robert Kirkwood, Jr. usually ring a bell of memory for those enthusiasts of the Revolution. Of the 73 generals that received, earned, or were granted commissions in the Continental Army more names are what we colloquially refer to as “household names.” Thousands more served in militias and on the water with the fledgling Continental Navy or aboard privateers.

I would not be raising a contentious point when I say that the majority of the men who donned the Continental uniform, fought, froze, starved, were wounded, and/or survived are lost to history. Through a myriad of reasons and mostly not from any fault of theirs. That is why, when doing research, especially with the aid and power of the internet, finding personal accounts, reminiscent, and battlefield stories, the Revolutionary era historian gets excited. That excitement generated this post.

While researching in general, for posts to bring to you, and for potential upcoming publications, I came across, naturally, the website for the National Archives. Many of you have accessed the site and/or visited the archives in Washington D.C. to do primary research. Nothing new to elaborate with on that point. However, I was intrigued by a new–to me–section of the website research section. The page was labeled “Citizen Archivist Dashboard, Stories from the Pension Files.”

Continue reading “Rank-and-File Research” →

Book Review: Brady J. Crytzer, The National Road: George Washington and America’s First Highway West (Diversion Books, 2026), 368 pages, $32.50

After returning from the War of American Independence, George Washington turned to his pre-war focus on the west, the vast lands beyond the Appalachians that had launched his public career as young Virginia militia officer and messenger for Lieutenant Governor Robert Dinwiddie in 1753.   In 1784, he ventured to southwestern Pennsylvania and held a meeting with prominent locals.  The question he put before them was finding the best way to connect the Potomac River with the Ohio River.   It was rough country and the task would never be easy, but opening a reliable and robust route between the two would open Virginia’s access to the Ohio Valley more easily than the narrow passes and valleys that led to the Kanawha River or along the spine of the Appalachians to the Cumberland Gap through Kentucky.  Washington’s interests were, of course, personal.  He had invested heavily in the Ohio Country and stood to make, protect, or lose a personal fortune.  

But, Washington’s interests were also public.  He had long viewed the west as critical to the future of Virginia, and now the new United States.   With the war over and independence secured, it had only become more so.  Washington had personally experienced the sectional and regional differences that threatened to tear the country apart.  As people flooded into the new territories won in the war, the east-west divisions had grown worse.  Everything produced in one section and consumed in another had to be hauled across the Appalachians, a time-consuming, back-breaking effort that couldn’t happen fast enough for agricultural products.  By connecting the rivers, Washington hoped to bind east and west together, strengthening the economic, social, and political bonds that were critical to building the new country.  

The father of his country wasn’t alone in that thought.  The Swiss-born Albert Gallatin, who opted to make his home in the west, shared it.  Rising through a series of political offices, from state representative, to Federal representative, to Pennsylvania Senator, to Secretary of the Treasury for both the Jefferson and Madison Administrations, Gallatin picked up the baton as Washington passed from the scene.  Although they had radically different politics and ideas of national interest, Gallatin focused on establishing a national road at the federal expense by setting aside a portion of proceeds from land sales in the west.  After much political maneuvering, Gallatin and the westerners got a law for their road enacted in 1806.  The resulting work would become the National Road, America’s first federal interstate highway.  A decade later, as work progressed, Gallatin moved from the Treasury Department and national finance to the work of a diplomat with postings as the ambassador to France and then the United Kingdom.  

While Gallatin shifted his focus to foreign affairs, Henry Clay of Kentucky picked up the baton of tying the country together and using roads to build figurative, and literal, bridges among America’s different groups.  Clay served in the U.S. Senate early in his career, but it may have been his position as Representative from Kentucky and Speaker of the House that he learned the art of compromise and established his reputation as someone with the skills to bring warring factions together, at least sufficiently enough to keep the country growing and getting stronger.  The National Road became his project.

Award-winning historian Brady J. Crytzer takes up this broader tale of building a new country as it moved westward in his latest book: The National Road: George Washington and America’s First Highway West.  Ostensibly, it’s about building the road and tackles the nitty-gritty job of exploring a route, surveying, cutting, hauling, pounding, and managing the construction of a road in the 19th century.   Along the way, the technology changes, the money runs out, the road needs repairing, and competition crops up from canals and railroads.  The road ran from Cumberland, MD to Vandalia, Il, but by the time it reached its western portions, the hard road painstakingly built through Maryland, Pennsylvania, Virginia and Ohio had become a slapdash affair of dirt, mud, ruts, and washouts.  Eventually, time passed the road by and it fell into perpetual disrepair, useful more for local traffic than knitting states together.  

Ultimately, though, The National Road is really about the people, from world historical figures like George Washington and national leaders like Gallatin and Clay to everyday drovers, bridge builders, settlers, and legendary Black teamsters like Sam Nimmey.  The panoply of people that define a nation are all here. (Civil War buffs will even be pleased to find an appearance by Charles Ellet Jr., a civil engineer and bridge builder who went on to construct rams for United States Navy.) Building the road becomes a narrative structure for telling a larger story of the United States as it moved west from the time of the founding fathers through the time of governing compromises and pending Civil War.  Solidly grounded in history, Crytzer clearly writes with an eye on the reader’s experience. With The National Road, Crytzer has given the public another excellent work of early American history and a wonderful peek into the complexities of doing big things.  He ensures we understand it’s not just a road, it’s the story of diverse people coming together for a common purpose.

Yorktown, Duolingo, and Putting it to the Test

Situated near the York River, across the street from the American Revolution Museum of Yorktown, sits a monument commemorating the French soldiers that fought, bled, and for some, gave their lives during the siege.

A few years ago, or 1421 days ago to be exact, I pulled over into the parking lot for that monument, walked up, and gave a cursory look at the names and the wording. I did not speak or read French–much to the detriment of my French teacher in high school I must say–but determined there that I would. Later that same evening I downloaded the language learning app Duolingo and started a streak, which if you had not guessed already, has reached 1421 straight days.

I recently went back to that monument and could at least interpret enough of the wording to understand the gist. Good start.

The monument in question
Author collection

I now take that rudimentary language foundation capability on the road. Where may you ask?

Screenshot to confirm streak

Next week, after deciding approximately a whole 10 days ago, that following the wedding of a cousin in Connecticut, I would drive the remaining 7 hours to Quebec, Canada. Impromptu? Kind of. Just have to remember to pack my passport!

A bucket list item of mine in the history column is to see the famous Plains of Abraham, from one of the climactic battles of the French and Indian (Seven Years’ War), fought 267 years ago this month, on September 13. I also want to walk the last footsteps of General Richard Montgomery as he led an unsuccessful attack by the fledging rebellious American military against the British during the first winter of the American Revolution. I may have missed the anniversary but at least I am within the same year-ish (since the battle was fought on New Year’s Eve 1775).

Side note, Maryland honors Montgomery by a county named in his honor, one of, if not the first, place, county, town, etc. to be named for a person not related to the British monarchy, aristocracy, or gentry. Along with Washington, the two counties in Maryland were siphoned off of Frederick in 1776.

Stay tuned next, week to Emerging Revolutionary War’s Facebook page as I will go live there.

And then I will retreat to a Quebec cafe…or brewery and test out my French…so if you have a suggestion of a can’t miss place, drop a comment below!

-à bientôt-





Rev War Revelry: Kip’s Bay and Harlem Heights

Join us this Sunday at 7pm as we ERW authors and historians Dan Welch and Mark Maloy continue their 250th anniversary coverage of the New York Campaign. They’ll chat with us about the events following the Continentals retreat from Long Island, Nathan Hale, the Turtle, the Peace Conference, and of course the fighting at Kip’s Bay and Harlem Heights. Welch and Maloy’s new book, “Conquer or Die” will be available this fall. This Revelry will be LIVE on our Facebook and You Tube pages at 7pm.

Be sure to subscribe to our You Tube Channel for hundreds of hours of free content on the American Revolutionary Era! https://www.youtube.com/@emergingrevolutionarywar8217

If ERW were one of the Founders. . . .

This week, during a conference call, someone asked Rob Orrison, Neil Chatelain, and me, “Which figure from the Revolution is ERW most like?”

Stephen Hopkins

The first person who jumped to mind was Stephen Hopkins of Rhode Island. Although none of us wears a cool hat like Hopkins does, it was easy to think of ERW as the guy in the back of the room, drinking a mug of rum or beer or grog and offering commentary on events. Hopkins had served several stints as Rhode Island’s colonial governor and served as chief justice of the colonial court during the infamous Gaspée affair. He was good natured and earnest, and John Adams said, “He kept us alive” with his energy. “Hopkins never drank to excess,” Adams said, “but all he drank was immediately not only converted into Wit, Sense, Knowledge and good humor, but inspired Us all with similar qualities.”

Or how about John Adams, as Rob suggested? (He knew I’d love that one!) Not only was Adams a writer, he was also a workhorse, like most of the regular contributors who keep ERW going—a small cadre of folks who each do a lot of work. Adams was also prickly, Rob pointed out, just as many of ERW’s folks are (a bit of self-revealing honesty there!). Adams preferred beer to cider, so I thought we’d have to swap that out, but Rob reminded me that few of us would turn down free cider.

I suggested Ben Franklin. Franklin had a background in printing and writing—something central to ERW—and was also generally good humored. He liked to have a good time—“Perhaps too good of a time,” someone in the conversation piped in—and always situated himself at the social center of any scene. ERW is, if nothing else, social. Rob did point out that Franklin was a genius in many, many areas, while ERW is pretty focused in its work, but personality wise, it’s a good match.

The question put us on the spot, so those were our initial answers. What do YOU think? If ERW was a figure from the Revolution, who would ERW be most like?

Review: “An Underappreciated Victory; Bernardo de Gálvez’s Mississippi River Campaign Against the British in 1779” by Stephen L. Kling, Jr. and Kristine L. Sjostrom

The American Revolution is often remembered through the familiar lens of successful campaigns and their contributing commanders: General George Washington at Yorktown, Virginia, and General Horatio Gates at Saratoga, New York, to name two of the most significant. Yet the Revolution was an international conflict fought across a much wider geographic area than just along the eastern seaboard of North America.  In An Underappreciated Victory, Stephen L. Kling, Jr. and Kristine L. Sjostrom seek to restore one of these overlooked campaigns to its proper place in the history of the war. Their study of Bernardo de Gálvez’s 1779 Mississippi River campaign demonstrates how Spain, despite pursuing its own strategic interests, contributed materially to the defeat of Britain and how Gálvez’s leadership produced significant results with remarkably limited resources.

The authors begin by establishing the strategic importance of Spanish Louisiana and the Mississippi River Valley. Following Spain’s entry into the war against Britain in 1779, Louisiana became both a potential target for British operations and a valuable base from which Spain could threaten British possessions. New Orleans was particularly vulnerable. British control of posts along the Mississippi posed a danger to Spanish interests while also threatening communications and commerce throughout the region. Rather than remain on the defensive, Gálvez recognized an opportunity to seize the initiative.

It is in this decision that the authors make one of their strongest arguments about Gálvez’s leadership. His forces were hardly overwhelming, and the campaign presented formidable logistical challenges. Distance, weather, disease, difficult terrain, transportation problems, and uncertain intelligence, all complicated operations. Gálvez nevertheless chose an offensive strategy. His willingness to act before the British could concentrate their forces became one of the campaign’s defining characteristics. The resulting operations against British positions, culminating in the capture of Baton Rouge and other posts, demonstrated the effectiveness of surprise, mobility, intelligence, and decisive leadership.

Kling and Sjostrom are very effective in showing that the campaign cannot be understood solely through its engagements. Logistics and geography receive significant attention, revealing the extent to which environmental conditions shaped military possibilities along the Mississippi River. The campaign’s success therefore becomes more impressive when measured against the obstacles continuing to confront Gálvez. His achievement was not simply that he defeated British forces; it was that he managed to organize and sustain an offensive in an environment that severely restricted the movement and supply of armies.

Another of the book’s greatest strengths is its use of multinational sources. By incorporating Spanish, British, and German accounts, the authors move beyond the predominantly Anglo-American perspective that has traditionally dominated Revolutionary War narratives. These sources allow them to reconstruct events from competing viewpoints and provide greater insight into the decisions made by both sides. Their documentary approach also strengthens the case for reconsidering Gálvez’s campaign as a serious military operation rather than an isolated episode on the margins of the Revolution.

The book’s greatest historiographical contribution, however, lies in its reassessment of Spain’s role in the American Revolution. Spain did not enter the war solely to assist the American colonies; it had territorial, commercial, and geopolitical objectives of its own. Nevertheless, those objectives frequently aligned with the interests of the American revolutionaries. Gálvez’s campaign illustrates how Spanish military operations diverted British attention and resources while weakening British control of the Gulf Coast and Mississippi Valley. The authors therefore broaden the traditional interpretation of the Revolution from an Anglo-American struggle supported by France into a genuinely international conflict.

The study is not without potential limitations. This book is a deep and exhaustive study of a particular subsect of war, designed to be the volume on this aspect. Similarly, the authors’ admiration for Gálvez occasionally raises the question of whether they attribute his successes too heavily to exceptional leadership rather than to a combination of favorable circumstances, British weaknesses, and Spanish strategic interests. Nevertheless, the evidence presented makes a convincing case that Gálvez exercised considerable initiative and understood the advantages of striking quickly against dispersed British positions.

Ultimately, An Underappreciated Victory shows that the importance of a military campaign cannot always be measured by the size of participants or soldiers. Gálvez’s 1779 Mississippi campaign involved relatively modest forces compared with the armies that fought at Saratoga or Yorktown, yet its strategic consequences were considerably greater than its obscurity might suggest. Kling and Sjostrom provide a valuable reconstruction of the campaign while challenging readers to reconsider the geographic and international dimensions of the American Revolution. Their study establishes Gálvez not merely as a peripheral Spanish commander but as an important participant in the broader struggle against Britain. In doing so, An Underappreciated Victory makes a persuasive case that the campaign—and Gálvez himself—deserve a more prominent place in the history of the American Revolution.

THGC Publishing, St. Louis, MO
2026
634 pages, including images
$50.00

The 1776 New York Campaign: 250 Years Later

The New York Campaign had been building for over year by August 1776. In July 1775, previous British commander of forces in America, Thomas Gage, had sent a request to his superiors to be allowed to leave Boston and begin a new campaign in New York. Following Lexington, Concord, and Bunker Hill, Gage’s force remained bottled up and besieged in and around Boston and Charleston. When word of approval of Gage’s plan reached Boston, so too did orders relieving him of command. Before he departed for England in October 1775, he met with his successor, William Howe, and greatly stressed the importance of moving the theater of war to New York. Howe would follow Gage’s preplanning and approval to the letter, including waiting until the spring to began the shift in the army’s base of operations. Howe’s timetable, however, was moved up after the arrival of Henry Knox’s artillery train and the placement of guns on Dorchester Heights. On March 17, 1776, Howe and 11,000 troops and Loyalist citizens sailed for Nova Scotia. Foreshadowing the British departure and the location of the next campaign in a letter written two days before they set sail, Col. Joseph Reed, later George Washington’s adjutant-general, correctly asserted, “If Howe should leave Boston, we expect he will make for New York; and, at all events, we look upon that as one of the scenes of the summer business.”

Meanwhile, George Washington also looked to New York as the next seat of this growing conflict. In January he sent Charles Lee to begin laying out a position for the Continental Army to take once it shifted southward from Boston. Not long after Lee arrived in February 1776 he assured the Committee of Safety that even though he could see no way to make New York into a “tenable fortification” he could make a position strong enough to be “a most advantageous field of battle” that would “cost the enemy many thousands of men to get possession of it.” Just two months later, on April 13, Washington and the Continental Army arrived.

The Continental Army commander had no other choice than to do what he could in New York. There was immense political pressure on Washington not to abandon it, the Congress believing it had high political and psychological value. Many in Congress believed abandoning it would demoralize the Patriot cause and swell the morale of the Loyalist population in the city and colony thereof. Furthermore, it was a central location along the Atlantic coast and a conduit of communication and supplies between New England and the southern colonies via the Hudson River. Furthermore, the Hudson River/Lake Champlain corridor remained a vital passage to Canada and the Great Lakes. New York was also a bustling economic hub, the second largest urban center in the colonies, with a port, shipbuilding, and deep-water harbor had immense naval and trade value. Widely considered as the “key to the continent,” Washington would have a difficult task defend the city, it’s deep water port, and the numerous navigable waterways; all reasons the British wanted to seize the city in their effort cutoff New England from the middle and southern colonies. Writing to his brother, John Augustine Washington, between May 31 and June 4, 1776, he confessed, “We expect a very bloody Summer of it at New York . . . & I am sorry to say that we are not, either in Men, or Arms, prepared for it.”

Finally, after several months of resupplying and refitting his army in Nova Scotia, William Howe and his command arrived on Staten Island, unopposed, in June 1776. Pvt. Daniel McCurtin, 1st Company of Maryland Rifles, recorded the British arrival, noting he saw, “the whole Bay was full of shipping as ever it could be. I declare that I thought all London was afloat.”Over the coming weeks he would be joined by his brother, Richard, with large numbers of reinforcements, ships, transports, supplies, and Hessians. Although the two brothers leaned into their role of peace commissioners, attempting to end this growing rebellion through pardons and not bloodshed in July, by August, with no peaceful resolution insight, military preparations moved forward.

On August 20, 1776, British troops began loading onto ships and transports from their Staten Island camps, and 250 years ago today, August 22, 1776, the first British troops landed on Long Island at Denyse’s Ferry. Howe had chosen this site for its richness and crops and plentiful livestock in which to supply his army. Still unsure of Howe’s intentions, and constantly worried about his flank and rear being turned by the British Navy, Washington had spread his army dangerously thin across several islands with waterways separating reinforcements should the need for them arise. Thus, on August 22, Washington only had 3,000 men, John Nixon and Nathaniel Heard’s brigades, and some Long Island militia in which to contest the landing. All they could really do was raise the alarm. By the end of the day 20,000 British troops were on Long Island. Only time would tell, at least for Washington, whether or not this would be Howe’s main push or simply a diversion to another beachhead and main strike.

Learn more about the 1776 New York Campaign with ERW’s forthcoming release, Conquer or Die: The 1776 New York Campaign, by Dan Welch and Mark Maloy. Pre-order here!

Book Review: Closing the Ring, Geoge Washington’s War in the North, 1778 – 1781 by Jeffrey A. Denman

From June 28, 1778, until October 1781, there is a gap in major engagements by the main Continental Army under the command of General George Washington. A few minor engagements, at Springfield, Connecticut Farms in New Jersey or Stony Point in New York, occurred. Actions in the Southern Theater occupied much of that period and Newport, Rhode Island became a focal point as well, especially with the French arrival. Historians, especially popular and public historians, tend to quickly cover these approximately three years of war in short order, moving onto the finality.

Yet, these years are important, especially to understand the other facets of warfare, rebellion, and revolution. Diving into the primary sources, from the quill pens of Washington, his fellow generals, staff officers, Continental Congress, and the soldiery that comprised the Continental and militia forces, and one can easily surmise how important those non-major-warfare years were. Luckily for the avid students and enthusiasts of the American Revolutionary War, we now have a concise, richly researched, and impactfully created prose published by Casemate and authored by Jeffrey A. Denman to fill this gap.

A glance at Denman’s biography reveals that he was a public-school teacher and historian who has a resume filled with publications and researched articles. He takes that acquired skill set into this publication, weaving the story, sprinkled with direct quotes and primary source material, for an accurate and compelling overview of the high-stakes of the American Revolution and how success very much so hung in the balance from 1778 – 1781.

At the center is Washington, as the “book tracks…strategic and personal contributions across multiple theaters of war…” (pg. xv). This includes relationships with other military and political leaders, along with the French commander, Rochambeau, in how he “carefully navigated French egos, the paralysis of Congress, and state politics…” (pg. xvii). Yet Denman’s goal is to provide a balanced approach to these years from Monmouth Courthouse in 1778 to Yorktown in 1781, “History proves that Washington was not a great military strategist…committed serious tactical mistakes” but “no man…could match Washington in courage, fearlessness, and devotion to his country.” (pgs. xvi-xvii).

Concluding his introduction, Denman clearly states the purpose of the following pages and why, although no major engagements were fought for over three years under Washington’s command, “this book, focusing on moments and locales rarely chronicled, provides an in-depth and captivating window into how one individual galvanized meager resources to accomplish the extraordinary” (pg. xvii).

Continue reading “Book Review: Closing the Ring, Geoge Washington’s War in the North, 1778 – 1781 by Jeffrey A. Denman” →