For many months the fate of the thirteen revolting colonies hung in the balance. Their troops were dispirited, ill-fed, ill-paid, ill-clad. Many thousands absolutely refused to serve or to obey their officers. A single great battle won by the King's soldiers might have sent them back to their homes willing to accept the terms of peace which the mother-country offered to the colonies. As it was, every third man you would have met, had you travelled from Boston to Savannah, was still a Loyalist or Tory openly or at heart. At the beginning of the conflict two-thirds of the entire population of America, which was then about 3,000,000, were Loyalists. But if you have read the history of the French Revolution, you know that peaceful majorities have little power when opposed by loud-voiced, vehement, energetic men, with a single object, and perpetually keeping that object in view. Thus we see as the war dragged on the numbers of Loyalists diminishing. Many had not dared to avow their fealty to King and Empire; many had not dared to express their opinion that America had been in the wrong from the first. They shrank from calling Samuel Adams a demagogue, and Tom Paine a wicked atheist, because this would have exposed them to the hatred of the lawless mob. For now that the King's authority had been overthrown, especially in the cities, the lives of peaceful, law-abiding men were at the mercy of the multitude. It was no time to be neutral. A man had to choose between his King and the Philadelphia Congress, and, moreover, he had to choose quickly. In many cases his choice was influenced by immediate fear. His house or shop might be broken into, his goods stolen, his chattels burned, even he himself, if he escaped stoning or the fanatic's bullet, might be tarred and feathered.
Under these circumstances, you see what a painful predicament they were in who in those distant colonies, proud of their imperial heritage as Englishmen, grateful for what England had done for them, convinced that the mother-country did not really wish to oppress them, stood firm for their sovereign, flag, and ancient Constitution.
History now shows that the Loyalists were, with a few striking exceptions, the best men in America. Their numbers embraced the most notable judges, the most eminent lawyers, most cultured clergy, most distinguished physicians, most educated and refined of the people, both north and south. Early in the war, nay, even long before the war broke out, the Boston mobs had set upon them for their loyalty. Any official or merchant suspected of sympathising with the British Army or British Government of the day became at once a target for their insults and persecution. They began by setting Governor Hutchinson's mansion in flames; sheriffs and judges were mobbed; feeble old men were driven into the woods, and innocent women insulted. As the war progressed the violence of the revolutionists grew in intensity. Thousands sought safety with the King's troops, thousands armed themselves and fought valiantly for the King. Any man accused of being a Loyalist was liable to have his estate confiscated and to be punished even with death. Now we can afford to look back on these things and to bear no ill-will to the good and wise Americans who built up the United States. It happened long ago; we have long forgiven. But Canadians can never forget.
What the Loyalists had suffered during the war, when the issue of the contest still wavered, was far, far less than that which they had to endure when the Revolutionists at last triumphed.
The British Empire had been badly served by the officers England had sent out to America. If she had had a soldier of the stamp of Washington to direct her armies, there would have been a different conclusion; but all was mismanaged, and her Generals, Gage, Burgoyne, and Cornwallis, planned feebly and fought half-heartedly. If there was any doubt as to the result, that doubt was speedily set at rest when England's hereditary enemy, France, espoused the cause of the American insurgents. French money, ships, and men poured into America. The Americans fought with French muskets, they were clad in French clothing, and they were paid with gold which the impoverished people of France could ill spare. Great is the debt America owes to the French King and statesmen of that time.
Then came the day when Cornwallis found himself shut up at Yorktown by the French and American armies under Rochambeau and Washington, four times greater than his own forces. The French fleet turned its guns upon him from the sea; retreat was cut off, and Cornwallis surrendered. To the hopes of the Loyalists this was the last blow, and indeed to the hopes of British King and Parliament.
The war was all but over, but not yet over was the terrible ordeal which the men who had stood staunch and faithful to the United Empire were destined to undergo. They were termed "traitors"; they were pursued through the streets; their families were driven into the woods; they were shot down remorselessly. Rows of them were hung up like felons. At the battle of King's Mountains in North Carolina ten of the prisoners, men of character and influence, were hanged in cold blood. There were many other instances when prisoners were ferociously executed.
New York remained in British hands a year or two longer. There came one morning tidings that a Loyalist named Philip White had been hanged. The Loyalists, led by William, the able, stout-hearted son of Benjamin Franklin, now resolved to retaliate. For every Loyalist, they proclaimed, who was murdered they would hang a Congress officer falling into their hands. Accordingly one Joshua Huddy, who had been taken prisoner by them, was hanged. On his corpse was fastened this notice: "We determine to hang man for man, while there is a refugee living." Verily, an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth! Naturally Washington and the Congress were very angry at this, and by way of further retaliation condemned a young officer, nineteen years of age, Captain Asgill, to die on the gibbet. Lady Asgill, the mother of the young officer, failing to obtain mercy from Congress, applied to the French, and De Vergennes requested that young Asgill should be set at liberty, saying: "Captain Asgill is doubtless your prisoner, but he is among those whom the armies of the King, my master, contributed to place in your hands at Yorktown." Such a request Congress did not dare refuse, and the destined victim was set at liberty.
Canada proper during the war had not again been molested. But far to the north let us turn our eyes for a moment to witness a scene occurring there.