#Colonel Philip Van Cortlandt

[18thcentury]

Continental officer miniatures

General George Washington Artist: James Peale

General George Clinton Artist: John Ramage

Colonel Philip Van Cortlandt Artist: John Ramage

Lt. Colonel John Laurens Artist: Charles Wilson Peale

Colonel Daniel Morgan After Charles Wilson Peale

[aswithasunbeam]

I have a prompt idea: Jealous Ham post-RP, some men are you know giving Eliza that “I can treat you better” energy and Ham’s like: “You can’t expect me to just sit here and not fight for you, not fight for us” Canon era preferably but whatever works best for your style. I hope you find the time to fit this in!

A combination of a couple different prompts (those above and another asking for jealous Ham) that had to do with Ham and Eliza after the Reynolds Pamphlet - thanks to everyone for the great suggestions!

–

Trifles Light as Air

Rated: Teen and Up

“Well, if it isn’t little Betsey Schuyler. It’s been an age since I last set eyes on you.”  

Eliza started slightly and looked away from the portrait she’d been studying to find Philip Van Cortlandt approaching her with a wide, open smile. Alexander had been whisked away almost the moment they’d entered, leaving her to bear the weight of the curious guests, eager to gather more tidbits about New York’s most salacious scandal to feed to the maw of the gossip mill. She’d found this out of the way little corner to hide when the stares of the room had felt too oppressive.

“Phil,” she greeted, allowing him to scoop her into a friendly embrace. “I think I was beating you to the top of that big oak on your father’s property last we met, if memory serves.

They’d had a few brief encounters since, of course, the Van Cortlandts and Schuylers entwined as they were, but Phil laughed and readily played along.

“Right after stealing all my marbles.”

“I won them fair and square,” she retorted.

He held her by the shoulders as he released her from the hug, looking at her with a fond expression. “It’s good to see you, Bess.”

“And you,” she said, surprised at the sincerity of the words. “But you know it’s Betsey Hamilton now.”

The reminder of her married name caused something to darken behind Phil’s eyes. “Yes, that’s right. I’d heard.”

She felt blood rising to her cheeks in shame for just what he’d likely heard of late. “Art thou a wife?” a recent article had taunted. “See him, whom thou hast chosen for the partner of this life, lolling in the lap of a harlot!” Her eyes were cast down towards the floor, fighting the familiar wave of humiliation and anger.

“A day of great heartbreak for me, I’ll have you know, when I learned of your nuptials,” Phil continued, a note of forced joviality in his voice. She met his kind grey eyes again. “I was always rather sweet on you.”

She smiled at that. “Really? I didn’t know.”

Wry amusement lit his expression. “I suppose it wouldn’t have risen to your notice. Half of Albany society was sweet on you, after all. What was one among the throng?”

“That’s not true,” she argued.

“It assuredly is.” He held out an elbow to her. “Take a turn with me, Bess. We’ve so much to catch up on.”

She took his arm. “Tell me, how is your dear sister?”

“Oh, Catherine’s well, married and settled. Helping me look after the manor, in fact.”

“Really?”

They settled into easy, familiar conversation as they walked.

She was laughing by the time the call came for dinner, real, true, wonderful laughs that made her cheeks ache from all the smiling. Their trip down memory lane had been far more pleasant than she had imagined, reminders of the girl she’d been sweeping over her like being reintroduced to an old, dear friend. Phil escorted her into the dining room and held out her chair, lowering himself into the seat beside her without the least bit of care for their hosts seating arrangements.

“You’d already pushed poor Peter down in the mud. I didn’t think I stood a chance,” Phil teased as the soup was ladled into his bowl by a servant.

“I didn’t push him,” Eliza said. “He fell.”

“Sure, sure,” Phil replied, tone full of doubt. She shoved playfully at his shoulder as went to raise his spoon. “See, you’re at it again.”

The sound of a sneeze from a way down the table drew her attention away from their private merriment. Alexander was snuffling into a handkerchief and waving off a chorus of “Bless you” from those around him. It was the first she’d noticed he’d rejoined the wider party. Their eyes met, and his jaw clenched before he pointedly looked away.

Unhappy with her, then.

She allowed Phil to reclaim her attention and heard herself laughing with him just a touch louder than before.

They were sipping a sweet dessert wine in a corner of the parlor when Alexander finally approached them.

“Colonel Hamilton,” Phil greeted, courteous if not particularly warm.

“General Van Cortlandt,” Alexander nodded, a peculiar emphasis on the rank. A flash of memory recalled that Phil had been promoted after Yorktown in thanks for his brave service in battle before leaving the army; an honor not similarly granted to her husband. “I suppose I should thank you for so thoroughly entertaining my wife this evening.”

“No need, Colonel. Bess and I go way back. We’ve been trading stories from our youth. She and her sisters terrorized and fascinated in equal measure every young man in New York society.”

“I have no doubt,” Alexander said, and though he smiled, he didn’t look particularly amused. He finally looked at her as he added, “Well, I hate to interrupt your reunion, dearest, but I was hoping to slip away shortly. This head cold of mine is growing a bit bothersome.”

His pallor and bright pink nose attested to his misery readily enough, though she couldn’t help but wonder if they’d be leaving so early had she been silently suffering in a corner by herself.

“I can see her home, Colonel, if you need to retire for the evening,” Phil offered.

She felt Alexander watching her, waiting for her to refuse, to jump to his aid, to coo and comfort him while they waited outside for their carriage together. Months ago, that’s exactly what she would have done if he’d confessed to feeling poorly at a dinner. But then, she thought again of that taunting headline, of Philip’s expression when she’d mentioned her marriage, something sour curling in her stomach.

“That would be lovely, Philip, thank you.”

Alexander’s jaw bunched again, and his eyes flashed. “Eliza.”

“What?”

His lips hardly moved as he hissed, “You’ve made your point.”

She straightened her posture and narrowed her eyes. “My point?”

“Just come,” he said, holding his hand out to her expectantly.

“I expect you can see yourself home and get yourself to bed without my assistance, dearest.” She hurled the endearment like an insult and noted with satisfaction his slight flinch as it landed. “I’d like to stay. I’m enjoying reconnecting with my old friend immensely.”

His gaze swiveled between her and Phil, color rising in his cheeks.

“Fine,” he bit out. He looked for a moment like he was going to stalk off in a fit of anger, but then he paused, as though thinking better of it, and bowed slightly to Phil. “Enjoy your evening.”

“Feel better, Colonel,” Phil replied.  

When Alexander caught her eyes one last time, he didn’t look angry, she noticed; rather, he looked stricken, almost betrayed.

She wanted to slap him. Her teeth clenched as she watched him retreat, her breath loud and deliberate through her nostrils as she tried to reign her temper in. The nerve of him, to act as if he were the aggrieved party in any of this.

Lolling in the lap of a harlot.

Tears pricked at her eyes.

“Come on, Bess,” Phil encouraged, voice soft. “Let’s go for a walk.”

She swallowed, swiping at her eyes quickly, and nodded. “Thank you.”

The chilly fall air helped ease her distressed thoughts, and soon enough they were laughing over old times again. By the time they’d climbed into Phil’s carriage, she had the passing thought that she didn’t wish for the night to end. She relaxed back against the soft cushions of the seat and requested, “Could we drive around for a little while? Before you bring me home?”

He smiled easily and leaned out the open window to call, “The scenic route, John, as you please!”

“Yes, sir,” she heard the driver reply before the horses started off down the cobblestone street.

Phil watched her as they rode, mouth taut in careful consideration. She kept her expression open, waiting for him to speak. At last, he said, “This may be an impertinent question, considering we aren’t closely acquainted in our adult lives.”

“What is it?” she invited.

“Have spoken to someone yet?”

Her brow furrowed.

“An attorney, I mean?”

“An attorney?” she repeated, more confused. What need did she have for an attorney; and really, if she did, it’s not as if she didn’t have Alexander close to hand to manage any legal issues she might encounter.

“Even if he’s willing to go along with you, which I’d hope he is given the state of the evidence against him, you ought to be sure your interests are being looked after.”

“I don’t—”

“And, forgive me, I know this is unpardonably forward, and you’ll need time to settle, of course, but…well, I want you to know that I wouldn’t think any less of you, any differently of you, than any lovely unmarried or widowed lady.”

If she were divorced, she understood, his meaning dawning on her with awful clarity. He would still think her suitable for courting if she were divorced.

“I’ve always thought the world of you, Bess.”

“Phil, I….” She closed her eyes a moment, trying to gather her thoughts. Alexander rose up in her mind’s eye: the little half smile played on his lips; the pattern of freckles she traced upon his back each night; the way his hand felt when it closed around hers, fitting over her palm so perfectly. “I love my husband. I have no intention of leaving him.”

“Oh.” He sat back, nonplussed. “I…I thought…especially the way you were together tonight, so cool, I just assumed…. Pray, pardon me.”

“There’s nothing to pardon,” she assured him. “And as for tonight, loving him doesn’t mean I don’t want to throttle him on occasion. More so of late than ever before.”

He chuckled softly.

When the carriage pulled up in front of her house, Phil dismounted first and held his hand out to her. She took it, pausing before him, and leaned in to give him a fond kiss on the cheek. “Thank you for a lovely evening. I hope we’ll do a better job of staying in touch than incidental dinners and family gatherings.”

“I’d like that, Mrs. Hamilton.”

She smiled as she turned towards home.

She thought she saw the curtains rustle before the window of Alexander’s office and frowned. Surely, he’d gone up to bed when he’d come home? When she let herself in the front door, she saw that, indeed, candlelight still spilled out from under the door to his office.

Sighing, she unwrapped her cloak, hung it up neatly on the stand beside his coat, and steeled herself for another encounter with her infuriating husband. She gave three short knocks upon his office door before pushing inside. “I’m home.”

He was seated at his desk, a hand pressed against his forehead as he wiped at his nose with a handkerchief. “I heard the carriage pull up,” he muttered.

“I thought you were going straight to bed to tend to your cold. What are you still doing up? It’s getting late now.”

“Quite late.” His tone turned icy. “Did you enjoy your evening?”

“I did, in fact. I know you and he don’t see eye to eye politically, but he’s a very old friend of mine.”

“A very good friend, by the look of it.”

“Stop it, Alexander,” she warned.

“It was a suitable punishment, I’ll grant you, watching you fawn all over another man all evening.”

“I was not fawning all over him,” she argued. “And what are you talking about? You think I was punishing you?”

“I suppose you’ll tell me I ought not be angry over being given a taste of my own medicine.”

Her voice turned deadly quiet. “That’s not what I was doing.”

He stared up at her, something spiteful in his expression. “No?”

She glared at him. “I have another years’ worth of late nights before it would even come close.”

He paled significantly. “So, you…you and he, you…”

She let the silence linger for a cruel moment. The devastation in his eyes wasn’t as satisfying as she’d thought it would be. “No. Nothing happened. Nothing like that. He was a perfect gentleman.”

“He wanted you. He wanted something to happen. I could see it his eyes, the way he looked at you, touched you.”

He wasn’t entirely wrong, she supposed, considering his veiled proposal. The accusation rankled no less. “Don’t be ridiculous. We were childhood friends, that’s all.”

“Childhood sweethearts?” he pressed.

“We raced, and climbed trees, and played marbles, like all children.”

“You kissed him when you got out of the carriage.” He announced this with something almost like triumph, as though he’d trapped her in a lie.

She gave an exasperated sigh. “I kissed him on the cheek, Alexander. It’s not as if you caught us in a passionate embrace.”

He was breathing hard, his cheeks a florid pink oddly juxtaposed against his otherwise sickly pallor. “I don’t want you seeing him again.”

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t want you alone with him again!”

Her vision flashed red. “You presume to…as if you have the right, ever, to—”

But her fury cut off when she noticed a dribble of bright red blood starting from Alexander’s nostril.

“What?” he asked, visibly confused by her abruptly halted ire.

“Your nose,” she said, motioning to her own nostril. “You’re bleeding.”

He touched his fingers to his nose, smudging blood across his upper lip. A guttural sound issued from his throat as he reached for his handkerchief again, red immediately starting to spread across the bright white fabric as he pressed it to his face. When he started to tilt his head back, she moved towards him.

“No, no, honey, forward a little, or you’ll choke,” she directed. Her hand rested on his neck to encourage him into the right position. With the number of boys in their house, she’d had her share of experience with bloody noses.

Blood continued rushing into the handkerchief and started staining his hand.

“Pinch your nose,” she said. “That’ll slow it. I’ll get you another handkerchief.”

He mumbled something into his handkerchief, voice muffled and congested.

“What was that?”

“Drawer,” he repeated for her, removing a hand from the bloody mess his face had suddenly become to gesture to his desk. “More in the,” he cleared his throat, “the drawer.”

She pulled open the drawer he’d gestured to and pulled out the stack of clean, pressed handkerchiefs he’d squirreled away from himself. Holding one up, she helped him exchange the soaked handkerchief for a clean one, tossing the bloody one into the rubbish bin beside his desk. Then she squatted by his side, her hand tracing slow circles across his upper back.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered into the silence.

“Not your fault,” she hushed him. “Just relax. It will stop soon.”

“I didn’t mean,” he started, sniffling as he moved to handkerchief to check the progress of the bleed, “Not for the bloody nose.”

“Oh.” Her hand paused.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I just…seeing you with him, laughing, relaxed. It made me crazy.”

Her mood darkened. “I know the feeling.”          

“I know that. I know you do. And I can’t say you wouldn’t be right to leave me. But I can’t just…just watch you slip away from me like that. Let you run off with some other man without a fight.”

“And that little performance was your way of winning me back?”

“It’s possible I’m not thinking very clearly.”

She shook her head even as a little laugh escaped her lips. “I’m not running off with anyone, you goose,” she said.

“No?”

“No. You’re right that Phil was…interested in me.” His head whipped around, eyes the size of saucers. “He thought we were getting divorced, before you get it in your head to go duel him. He’d been sweet on me when we were young, and he made clear that he wouldn’t consider me, tainted, I suppose, if I were divorced. When I told him that I had no intention of leaving you, he really was a perfect gentleman.”

He snorted lightly, then coughed, pressing the handkerchief to his face more tightly.

“Worth it?” she asked, mostly teasing.

“Yes,” he muttered stubbornly.

“I love you, Alexander, for better or worse. There’s never going to be anyone else.”  

His expression softened. “Really?”

“Really. It doesn’t mean I’m not still hurt, still furious with you. Or that I don’t want to murder you from time to time. But I love you.” That earned her a little smile that she saw tugging at the corners of his eyes.

“I love you, too, Betsey.”

She rubbed his back again and leaned closer to inspect the handkerchief. “Has it stopped?”

He pulled the handkerchief away. The trail of blood appeared to have ceased. “I think so.”

She leaned over to press a kiss against his temple. “Let’s get you into bed, honey.”

[46ten]

AH’s “much-beloved” Matthew Clarkson

One of the themes I return to on this blog are all the people who get left out, from those who were obviously prominently placed in AH’s life through family ties - Philip Schuyler, John B. Church - to those who are at the margins because lack of letters or lack of fame pushed them there. In the second category, one can include near lifelong friends Nicholas Fish and John Laurance, and then a long line of others: Rufus King, Nathaniel Pendleton, Oliver Wolcott, William Bayard (his tearful display suggests more than a passing attachment to a fellow lawyer), John Mason, William Jackson, Timothy Pickering, Charles Cotesworth Pinckney, Josiah Odgen Hoffmann, Richard Varick, Richard Harison  etc. etc. (I think people sufficiently know McHenry, Laurens, Troup, Stevens, and G. Morris.) 

Let’s shine the light on Matthew Clarkson for a moment. Here is how John Church Hamilton describes his father’s death scene:

Meanwhile his numerous agonized friends crowded around the mansion where Hamilton lay, waiting through the sad hours each change in his pallid countenance with breathless apprehension. His elder comrades of the Revolution were there - gray, wondering old men, bowed with years - remembering him a youth in the first hours of his glorious anticipations, in the earliest triumphs of his genius and his valor. The loving, sighing companions of his later years, his grateful clients -  the many witnesses of his benevolence were there. They sat under the trees in mourning, silent woe, awaiting the issue, as though some judgment was coming upon the earth. 

At [AH’s] bedside were his wife and children - the grieving clergy - his tearful physician - and his much-beloved Clarkson.*

*footnote: General Matthew Clarkson. In the Revolution distinguished for his chivalry. In after life, for his piety and eminent virtues. The Life of Alexander Hamilton, vol 7, p. 835.

Of all the people who could be named by JCH, Clarkson? Why?

Matthew Clarkson (b Oct 1758) was a native New Yorker from a prominent family with long-established ties (See Clarksons of New York, A sketch for a history). His family intermarried with the De Peysters and Van Cortlandts in the first half of the century. 

Clarkson volunteered for the Army (or according to the source above, was sent by his father to fight when not yet 17). It’s not clear to me when he and AH first met, but considering that Clarkson was staying with William Livingston on 18July1777 (Gen. Nathanael Greene writes to him there), they may have met as early as 1773. In August 1777, Clarkson was given the rank of major and became an aide-de-camp to Maj. Gen. Benedict Arnold.  As Greene wrote to him: “I have the pleasure to acquaint you there is an opportunity now present for you to join the army, I hope to your liking. General Arnold is on his way to the Northern Department, he is in want of an aid-de-camp and I have taken the liberty to recommend you to the General. He is pleased to honor the recommendation and offers you the appointment. You will put yourself in readiness as soon as possible and follow the General to Albany, where you will join his family. Make my compliments to the Governor’s family.” Clarkson was present at the Battle of Saratoga (he’s in the painting as the second to last person on the right; Ebenezer Stevens is the dark haired gentlemen in front of him; Philip Schuyler is a couple of people to the left in brown jacket, non-military dress). He served as Arnold’s aide-de-camp until March 1779, and then became Maj. Gen. Benjamin Lincoln’s aide-de-camp.

Clarkson was taken prisoner upon the capture of Charleston on 12 May 1780, paroled to Pennsylvania, and exchanged that fall. He was present at the surrender of Cornwallis, and in June 1782 requested an extended leave of absence from the army. Clarkson obtained a brevet as lieutenant colonel upon the completion of his military service in late 1783. x 

From G. Washington: 

Major Matthew Clarkson commenced his military Services as a Volunteer early in the present War. In the Year 1777 he received a Majority in the Army of the United States, and was present at the Surrender of Lieut. General Burgoyne at Saratoga, having been active in all the principal antecedent Engagements, which produced that Event—In the Year 1779 was appointed Aide de Camp to Major General Lincoln (now Secretary at War) then commanding Officer in the Southern Department, & in that Character served at the Siege of Savannah. In 1780 he acted as Major of a Corps of Light Infantry during the Siege of Charles-Town. In 1782 He returned to his former Situation as Aide de Camp to Major General Lincoln, and was present at the Reduction of the British Posts of York and Gloucester under the Command of Lieut. General Earl Cornwallis. Soon after this, when Major General Lincoln became Secretary at War, he was appointed his Assistant. In all which Stations, from my own Knowledge and the Reports of the General Officer under whose immediate Orders he has served, I am authorised to declare that He has acquitted himself with great Honour. Given under my Hand And Seal at the Head-Quarters of the American Army the twenty-fourth Day of June in the Year 1782.

Clarkson then worked as a merchant, but mostly did what wealthy and prominent men (”the rich and well-born”) did back then: held a series of prestigious positions, elected and otherwise. I’m just going to copy Wikipedia: 

As a Regent of the University of the State of New York he was presented at the court of French King Louis XVI. He served as a Federalist member of the 13th New York State Legislature in the New York State Assembly for one term from 1789 to 1790, where he introduced a bill for the gradual abolition of slavery in the state.  From 1791 to 1792, he served as U.S. Marshal.  In 1793, he was elected to fill the vacancy, in place of Philip Van Cortlandt, as State Senator in the 17th New York State Legislature representing the Southern District, which consisted of Kings, New York, Queens, Richmond, Suffolk and Westchester counties. He served until 1795 after being reelected to the 18th Legislature, and resigning before he completed his full four year term.He was also a member of the commission to build a new prison 1796-1797 and President of the New York (City) Hospital (1799). In 1802, Clarkson was the Federalist candidate for U.S. Senator from New York but was defeated by DeWitt Clinton. He became President of the Bank of New York in 1804.

In February 1795, Clarkson was appointed commissioner of loans for New York. (See H to George Washington, January 14, 1795).  He resigned this position in September 1801.

On May 21, 1796, Washington nominated Clarkson as the United States commissioner under Article 21 of the treaty signed at San Lorenzo el Real (Pinckney’s Treaty) on October 27, 1795, between the United States and Spain, and on May 24, 1796, the Senate confirmed the appointment.

In 1798 Clarkson became a director of the New York branch of the Bank of the United States. He was also on the committee of the Society for Establishing Useful Manufactures. 

Clarkson’s first wife was the niece of William Alexander, Lord Stirling. His daughter with her married her cousin, the oldest son of John Jay and Sarah Livingston. (Clarkson first married in 1785, which again fits my pet theory that these men generally did not marry until their military service was complete - AH was the outlier among his friends in doing so.) After Mary Rutherfurd’s death in 1786, he married Sally Cornell in 1792. She died in 1803. Clarkson had eight children total; he didn’t name any of them Alexander, though he did name one William Bayard.  Matthew Clarkson died in 1825. 

So what was the relationship between Clarkson and AH like? He’s one of those we don’t get many letters to/from in part because they’re all usually living in NYC. From Founders, we only have two letters, both professional, from AH to Clarkson. There’s only one letter from Clarkson to AH: 

Dear Sir, I have reflected maturely on our conversation of yesterday. The result is, as far as I can with propriety I decline, at present, any military appointment. The duty I owe my Family seems to demand this of me, nor can I believe I give too great weight to this consideration when I consider the very small probability there is of any serious military operations taking place in this Country and the real injury I should sustain by being called from my present pursuits. These however are my reflections, if they are wrong, counsel me otherways, at any rate believe me with the greatest Regard and Esteem Dear Sir Yours very sincerely.  20August1798, Clarkson to AH, Here’s a digital copy of the letter. 

In preparing for his duel with Burr, while AH gave Church power of attorney, he named Church, John Laurance, and Clarkson as trustees for his property (except his books of Divinity). Founders notes that on April 11, 1805, Church, Laurance, and Clarkson purchased the remaining land, an additional 17 acres, that comprised the Grange property. 

Clarkson was one of the pallbearers at AH’s funeral, alongside Oliver Wolcott, Richard Harrison, Josiah Ogden Hoffman, Richard Varick, William Bayard, and  Laurance.

From the Hamilton side, the strongest statements of the friendship between AH and Clarkson come from JCH and EH, oddly enough. She wrote to Clarkson:

“...As you have always been the friend of my dear husband, I now pray you may be the friend of his Son [Alexander Jr.]....could you permit him sometimes to accompany you in your walks, that he might hear from you thou just sometimes of Religion as well as thou on Other subjects that have always marked your character. ” 17Sept1804, EH to Clarkson; credit: runawayforthesummer

And 25 years later: 

I introduce to your kindness and civilities the sons in law of your respected Friend General Clarkson [a] particular friend of my Hamilton.” 10Apr1830, EH to Marquis de Lafayette, credit: runawayforthesummer

I have not searched for Clarkson’s letters to others to see if more can be ascertained there. I’ll continue to wonder why JCH specifically noted Clarkson’s presence, and what he meant to the Hamilton family. Here’s a pic of the Stuart painting of Clarkson from 1794; he’s wearing his Society of the Cincinnati badge. (Looks like Trumbull based his figure of Clarkson on this one.)

[sonofhistory]

Tallmadge Siblings

I went and dug farther into the lives of Benjamin Tallmadge’s siblings as I needed it for TUCUFM. I had information but I decided to go even deeper in some research. I previous did Nathan Hale’s siblings here!

William Tallmadge (October 17th, 1752 - September 1776)

William Tallmadge the first child born to Benjamin and Susannah Tallmadge. 

He was the only Tallmadge son not born in Setauket but instead White Plains, Westchester county, where the family lived at his birth. They lived  there until 1753. 

He didn’t attend college it is believed.

By 1776 (possibly earlier), William was an officer in the Continental Army.

In September (most likely earlier) William was captured by the British and placed on the prison ship HMU Jersey in the New York harbor. 

Amid the neglect by the British soldiers aboard and the disease, dehydration and starvation--William died of one of these atrocities due to the conditions on the British prison ships less than a month before his twenty-fourth birthday.

His body was very recovered and it was most likely thrown over the side of the ship into the waters. 

Benjamin Tallmadge (February 25th, 1754 - March 7th, 1835)

Samuel Tallmadge (November 23rd, 1755 - April 1st, 1825)

Samuel Tallmadge wasn’t given the education his father or his two oldest brothers nor did he go to college. 

He was prepared for a mercantile career. 

May 16th, 1775, he joined his neighbors "of the fo[u] rth Company of Brookhaven" in signing a petition to send a representative to the Provincial Convention to be held in New York City. 

He served in the Brookhaven militia in 1775.

June 8th of that year with other "Freeholders and inhabitants within the Bounds of the 4th Militia Company of Brookhaven" he signed an "association" which protested against Britain and pledged themselves.

He was listed among "Refugees of 1776" from Long Island to Connecticut. Samuel was driven out of his home by the British.

May 1776 he enlisted in Suffolk county under Captain Daniel Roe's company in Colonel Henry B. Livingston's regiment of the New York Line. 

November 21st, 1776 he volunteered for the duration of the war as a member of the 4th New York Regiment. 

Samuel Tallmadge participated in the Battle of Long Island and the Battle of White Plains in 1776.

1777 he was with the detachment of his regiment which participated in the Battle of Saratoga and was at Burgoyne's surrender. He was probably at Valley Forge.

His name does not appear in the list of officers but he acted as a "clerk or orderly sergeant" under Captain Sackett's First Company.

Samuel Tallmadge was appointed ensign November 9th, 1777.

Major Benjamin Tallmadge took up with Governor Clinton to support his brother’s need of a promotion.

July 9th, 1778 he was designated regimental adjutant of the 4th New York Regiment and served until January 1, 1781.

Samuel Tallmadge participated in the Sullivan Campaign in 1779

September 15th, 1780 Samuel was appointed Adjutant to the 4th New York Regiment in place of Lieutenant Peter Ellsworth promoted from July 9th last. 

January 1st, 1781, he was transferred to the 2d New York Regiment commanded by Colonel Philip Van Cortlandt.

October 27th, of that year he was changed to second lieutenant, 

April 10th, 1782, he was promoted to first lieutenant of the 5th company of the 2d New York Regiment in place of Lieutenant Glenny who died October 27, 1781.

During this time he was intimately associated with Colonel Henry Beekman Livingston. 

He participated in the siege of Yorktown and the surrender of Cornwallis.

During the remainder of the war he was with his regiment in New Jersey, on the Hudson and up the Mohawk. 

When the New York Society of the Cincinnati was organized in June 1783 Samuel Tallmadge became a member.

Among friends and relatives he was known after the Revolution as "Captain Tallmadge" from his appointment as captain of the Dutchess County Militia in 1786.

As regimental adjutant he was a staff officer whose duty it was to assist the commanding officer in the discharge of details of his military duties. He also kept the Orderly Book up to date and gave out the orders to the brigades and companies.

He was mustered out of the army in June 1783.

He married in Kinderhook, New York Mary Hilton of Albany on July 3rd, 1783, and located to Rhinebeck as a merchant and opened a store. He resided there until about 1789. His business did not prosper.

April 30th, 1785, he made a claim for 1200 acres as lieutenant of the 2d New York Regiment and also for an additional 1200 acres by virtue of rights transferred to him by Cornelius Van Ness and Thomas Marshall ) at an earlier date.

July 9th, 1790 he was granted 600 acres in the towns of Homer and Brutus and in Onondaga county. 

With loans from others he bought a farm of several hundred acres in the town of Charleston, Montgomery county. 

At Rhinebeck three of his children were born: Mary (1784), Benjamin (after his brother in 1786) and Samuel (after himself in 1787). Four others were born at Charleston: William H (possibly after his eldest brother in 1791). Susannah (possibly after his mother in 1793), John (possibly after his youngest brother in 1796), and Isaac S. (possible after his youngest brother in 1799). 

Son Samuel Smith Tallmadge in 1797 went to live in the family of his uncle, John Tallmadge, in Warren, Connecticut where he attended school, clerked in the store and took up the life of a merchant.

Samuel Tallmadge located on a farm two miles northwest of the hamlet of Riders Corners. He cleared the land and erected a log cabin.1800 he built a comfortable house.

After a long illness, he died on April 1st, 1825  at the age of 69. His wife died on April 28th of the same year. Both are buried in the Charleston cemetery.

He was a devoted attendant of the "True Reformed" or "Wyckafite" Church and probably satisfied his simple yearnings for social intercourse within its membership. 

In old age he claimed pension from the government. 

April 6th, 1818, he appeared before the First Judge of the Court of Common Pleas of Montgomery County to make an affidavit of his services as a Revolutionary soldier.

John Tallmadge (September 19th, 1757 - February 24th, 1823)

Did some work in the Culper Spy Ring: code 249 in the book.

Married on January 8th, 1788 in Warren, Litchfield Connecticut to Phebe Pomeroy (born February 9th 1766 in Northampton, Hampshire, died December 13th, in Warren, Litchfield). Both are buried at Warren Center Cemetery in Litchfield, Connecticut

ornTheir children were Laura Tallmadge (born 1788), Phebe Sheldon Tallmadge (after her mother in 1790), Frances Fowler Tallmadge (born 1792), Charles Benjamin Tallmadge (middle after after his brother Benjamin, born 1792), John Smith Tallmadge (after his father, born 1798)  and George Pomeroy Tallmadge (born 1802). 

Isaac Tallmadge (February 25th, 1762 - ?)

Nothing is known of him.

[18thcentury]

From New York in The Revolution 1897

[18thcentury]

Colonel Philip Van Cortlandt

Probably Brigadier General at this point in 1783

Commander of the 2nd New York regiment