PERSECUTION OF THE LOYALISTS
In the autumn of the year 1779 an English poet, writing in the seclusion
of his garden at Olney, paid his respects to the American revolutionists
in the following lines:
Yon roaring boys, who rave and fight
On t’ other side the Atlantic,
I always held them in the right,
But most so when most frantic.
When lawless mobs insult the court,
That man shall be my toast,
If breaking windows be the sport,
Who bravely breaks the most.
But oh! for him my fancy culls
The choicest flowers she bears,
Who constitutionally pulls
Your house about your ears.
When William Cowper wrote these lines, his sources of information with
regard to affairs in America were probably slight; but had he been
writing at the seat of war he could not have touched off the treatment of
the Loyalists by the revolutionists with more effective irony.
There were two kinds of persecution to which the Loyalists were
subjected—that which was perpetrated by ‘lawless mobs,’ and that which
was carried out ‘constitutionally.’
It was at the hands of the mob that the Loyalists first suffered
persecution. Probably the worst of the revolutionary mobs was that which
paraded the streets of Boston. In 1765, at the time of the Stamp Act
agitation, large crowds in Boston attacked and destroyed the magnificent
houses of Andrew Oliver and Thomas Hutchinson. They broke down the doors
with broadaxes, destroyed the furniture, stole the money and jewels,
scattered the books and papers, and, having drunk the wines in the
cellar, proceeded to the dismantling of the roof and walls. The owners of
the houses barely escaped with their lives. In 1768 the same mob wantonly
attacked the British troops in Boston, and so precipitated what American
historians used to term ‘the Boston Massacre’; and in 1773 the famous
band of ‘Boston Indians’ threw the tea into Boston harbour.
In other places the excesses of the mob were nearly as great. In New York
they were active in destroying printing-presses from which had issued
Tory pamphlets, in breaking windows of private houses, in stealing live
stock and personal effects, and in destroying property. A favourite
pastime was tarring and feathering ‘obnoxious Tories.’ This consisted in
stripping the victim naked, smearing him with a coat of tar and feathers,
and parading him about the streets in a cart for the contemplation of
his neighbours. Another amusement was making Tories ride the rail. This
consisted in putting the ‘unhappy victims upon sharp rails with one leg
on each side; each rail was carried upon the shoulders of two tall men,
with a man on each side to keep the poor wretch straight and fixed in his
seat.’
Even clergymen were not free from the attentions of the mob. The Rev.
Jonathan Boucher tells us that he was compelled to preach with loaded
pistols placed on the pulpit cushions beside him. On one occasion he
was prevented from entering the pulpit by two hundred armed men, whose
leader warned him not to attempt to preach. ‘I returned for answer,’ says
Boucher, ‘that there was but one way by which they could keep me out
of it, and that was by taking away my life. At the proper time, with
my sermon in one hand and a loaded pistol in the other, like Nehemiah I
prepared to ascend my pulpit, when one of my friends, Mr David Crauford,
having got behind me, threw his arms round me and held me fast. He
assured me that he had heard the most positive orders given to twenty
men picked out for the purpose, to fire on me the moment I got into the
pulpit.’
That the practices of the mob were not frowned upon by the revolutionary
leaders, there is good reason for believing. The provincial Congress
of New York, in December 1776, went so far as to order the committee
of public safety to secure all the pitch and tar ‘necessary for the
public use and public safety.’ Even Washington seems to have approved of
persecution of the Tories by the mob. In 1776 General Putnam, meeting a
procession of the Sons of Liberty who were parading a number of Tories
on rails up and down the streets of New York, attempted to put a stop to
the barbarous proceeding. Washington, on hearing of this, administered
a reprimand to Putnam, declaring ‘that to discourage such proceedings
was to injure the cause of liberty in which they were engaged, and that
nobody would attempt it but an enemy to his country.’
Very early in the Revolution the Whigs began to organize. They first
formed themselves into local associations, similar to the Puritan
associations in the Great Rebellion in England, and announced that they
would ‘hold all those persons inimical to the liberties of the colonies
who shall refuse to subscribe this association.’ In connection with these
associations there sprang up local committees.
From garrets, cellars, rushing through the street,
The new-born statesmen in committee meet,
sang a Loyalist verse-writer. Very soon there was completed an
organization, stretching from the Continental Congress and the provincial
congresses at one end down to the pettiest parish committees on the
other, which was destined to prove a most effective engine for stamping
out loyalism, and which was to contribute in no small degree to the
success of the Revolution.
Though the action of the mob never entirely disappeared, the persecution
of the Tories was taken over, as soon as the Revolution got under way,
by this semi-official organization. What usually happened was that the
Continental or provincial Congress laid down the general policy to be
followed, and the local committees carried it out in detail. Thus, when
early in 1776 the Continental Congress recommended the disarming of the
Tories, it was the local committees which carried the recommendation
into effect. During this early period the conduct of the revolutionary
authorities was remarkably moderate. They arrested the Tories, tried
them, held them at bail for their good behaviour, quarantined them in
their houses, exiled them to other districts, but only in extreme cases
did they imprison them. There was, of course, a good deal of hardship
entailed on the Tories; and occasionally the agents of the revolutionary
committees acted without authority, as when Colonel Dayton, who was sent
to arrest Sir John Johnson at his home in the Mohawk valley, sacked
Johnson Hall and carried off Lady Johnson a prisoner, on finding that Sir
John Johnson had escaped to Canada with many of his Highland retainers.
But, as a rule, in this early period, the measures taken both by the
revolutionary committees and by the army officers were easily defensible
on the ground of military necessity.
But with the Declaration of Independence a new order of things was
inaugurated. That measure revolutionized the political situation. With
the severance of the Imperial tie, loyalism became tantamount to treason
to the state; and Loyalists laid themselves open to all the penalties of
treason. The Declaration of Independence was followed by the test laws.
These laws compelled every one to abjure allegiance to the British crown,
and swear allegiance to the state in which he resided. A record was kept
of those who took the oath, and to them were given certificates without
which no traveller was safe from arrest. Those who failed to take the
oath became liable to imprisonment, confiscation of property, banishment,
and even death.
Even among the Whigs there was a good deal of opposition to the test
laws. Peter Van Schaak, a moderate Whig of New York state, so strongly
disapproved of the test laws that he seceded from the revolutionary
party. ‘Had you,’ he wrote, ‘at the beginning of the war, permitted every
one differing in sentiment from you, to take the other side, or at least
to have removed out of the State, with their property ... it would have
been a conduct magnanimous and just. But, now, after restraining those
persons from removing; punishing them, if, in the attempt, they were
apprehended; selling their estates if they escaped; compelling them to
the duties of subjects under heavy penalties; deriving aid from them in
the prosecution of the war ... now to compel them to take an oath is an
act of severity.’
Of course, the test laws were not rigidly or universally enforced. In
Pennsylvania only a small proportion of the population took the oath. In
New York, out of one thousand Tories arrested for failure to take the
oath, six hundred were allowed to go on bail, and the rest were merely
acquitted or imprisoned. On the whole the American revolutionists were
not bloody-minded men; they inaugurated no September Massacres, no Reign
of Terror, no _dragonnades_. There was a distinct aversion among them to
applying the death penalty. ‘We shall have many unhappy persons to take
their trials for their life next Oyer court,’ wrote a North Carolina
patriot. ‘Law should be strictly adhered to, severity exercised, but the
doors of mercy should never be shut.’
The test laws, nevertheless, and the other discriminating laws passed
against the Loyalists provided the excuse for a great deal of barbarism
and ruthlessness. In Pennsylvania bills of attainder were passed against
no fewer than four hundred and ninety persons. The property of nearly all
these persons was confiscated, and several of them were put to death. A
detailed account has come down to us of the hanging of two Loyalists of
Philadelphia named Roberts and Carlisle. These two men had shown great
zeal for the king’s cause when the British Army was in Philadelphia.
After Philadelphia was evacuated, they were seized by the Whigs, tried,
and condemned to be hanged. Roberts’s wife and children went before
Congress and on their knees begged for mercy; but in vain. One November
morning of 1778 the two men were marched to the gallows, with halters
round their necks. At the gallows, wrote a spectator, Roberts’s behaviour
‘did honour to human nature.’
He nothing common did or mean
Upon that memorable scene
Addressing the spectators, he told them that his conscience acquitted him
of guilt; that he suffered for doing his duty to his sovereign; and that
his blood would one day be required at their hands. Then he turned to his
children and charged them to remember the principles for which he died,
and to adhere to them while they had breath.
But if these judicial murders were few and far between, in other respects
the revolutionists showed the Tories little mercy. Both those who
remained in the country and those who fled from it were subjected to an
attack on their personal fortunes which gradually impoverished them.
This was carried on at first by a nibbling system of fines and special
taxation. Loyalists were fined for evading military service, for the hire
of substitutes, for any manifestation of loyalty. They were subjected
to double and treble taxes; and in New York and South Carolina they
had to make good all robberies committed in their counties. Then the
revolutionary leaders turned to the expedient of confiscation. From the
very first some of the patriots, without doubt, had an eye on Loyalist
property; and when the coffers of the Continental Congress had been
emptied, the idea gained ground that the Revolution might be financed
by the confiscation of Loyalist estates. Late in 1777 the plan was
embodied in a resolution of the Continental Congress, and the states were
recommended to invest the proceeds in continental loan certificates. The
idea proved very popular; and in spite of a great deal of corruption
in connection with the sale and transfer of the land, large sums found
their way as a result into the state exchequers. In New York alone over
£3,600,000 worth of property was acquired by the state.
The Tory who refused to take the oath of allegiance became in fact
an outlaw. He did not have in the courts of law even the rights of a
foreigner. If his neighbours owed him money, he had no legal redress.
He might be assaulted, insulted, blackmailed, or slandered, yet the law
granted him no remedy. No relative or friend could leave an orphan child
to his guardianship. He could be the executor or administrator of no
man’s estate. He could neither buy land nor transfer it to another. If he
was a lawyer, he was denied the right to practise his profession.
This strict legal view of the status of the Loyalist may not have been
always and everywhere enforced. There were Loyalists, such as the Rev.
Mather Byles of Boston, who refused to be molested, and who survived the
Revolution unharmed. But when all allowance is made for these exceptions,
it is not difficult to understand how the great majority of avowed Tories
came to take refuge within the British lines, to enlist under the
British flag, and, when the Revolution had proved successful, to leave
their homes for ever and begin life anew amid other surroundings. The
persecution to which they were subjected left them no alternative.