Context to the story...

For many people the S--- long ago Hit the Fan. The borders of North America are not now as they used to be. Land was seized. Red men and white forced off their land in favour of those with more political pull. The men, who ruled well in one decade, were given the attributes of tyrants of the next decade. Construction and deconstruction flowed up and down the rivers in waves

As a genealogist, I have researched how it is that my family came to be in Canada. We are the usual motley assemblage of Scottish, Irish, and Dutch, with the odd Englishman, Frenchman and German thrown in for flavour. I can claim nothing exotic… no Indian princesses, no Fille du Roi, or lord and ladies with castles. In fact, the occupation that most often shows up is weaver and farmer. There were no coffin ships coming from Ireland… we were Protestant and came earlier… there were no cleared Highland Scots… we were from the lowlands and came later… I can claim descent of the MacMillans of Lagavulin but not to a distillery… really if you look up plain ordinary folks in the dictionary, that photo is my family.

But I can claim status as the descendant of several lines of United Empire Loyalists. These were people who stood by the oaths they made and as basic farmers were grateful for land to farm and call their own. The earliest had been on his land since he had come to the New Netherlands Colony in 1623. They stood by the oaths they took and that included their loyalty to their King. And they lost everything for that loyalty… their farms, the crops, their processions, their livestock, and in some cases, their lives.

Now I am not here to debate the rights or the wrongs of the sides people took. If you want to know why decisions were made, then follow the money. Some remained loyal to the Crown out of fear that if they didn’t they would lose everything if the British won. Others gave loyalty to the Patriots out of fear that they would lose everything if they failed to support the Patriots and they won. People changed sides regularly just trying to be left alone. Often only a few were fanatical but all it takes is a few in each neighbourhood. To paraphrase Robert Heinlein, the problem with fanatics is not that they are willing to die for their cause but that they are willing to take you with them. Politics is sticky business and politicians were no better back then than they are now.

But there is enough Irish/Scots in me to know that that hanging-on to causes without perspective can lead to feuds without end. But equally there is enough Irish/Dutch/Scots in me to be proud of my people and that they believed strongly enough that they were willing to die for their beliefs. So after trying to hang-on, and keep their heads down, my people were driven out. They left their farms in the Mohawk Valley of Pennsylvania, and along the Upper Hudson River, around Albany, to come as refugees to Canada.

I have appropriated the name Morden for this story from my ancestor, a Quaker, Ralph Morden, who was hanged in Easton, PA on 25 November 1780 by the Patriots on charges of treason for assisting his childhood friend and neighbour to get past the sentries. Patriot records of the time show that his widow, Ann Durham Morden, and nine children were forced to watch him hang and that they stood without support. Only after his death did the three eldest sons slip away to join the fight against the Patriots. The rest tried to stay on their farm but were eventually forced to abandon their property. They came to Canada in 1786.

This story looks at what some of the repercussions were like. Somehow in the times that have passed since the 1770s, we forget how truly brutal and personal the American War for Independence really was. That it was fought by white people and Natives, siblings against siblings, and neighbours against neighbours. It didn’t just happen in 1776 and finish-up in a season. It went on and on, year after year, and the repercussions were still immediate in the late 1780s. It was a nasty guerilla war fought at the distance of a musket and tomahawk by armies, warriors, farmers, lawyers, preachers, the local bully boys, and all manner in-between. While some may have won, many more lost so much and that like the war that came a century later, the bitterness sown is still only just below the surface. Those that lost were given no option but to leave and they went north. Their descendants form the core of what is Canada. When you look at what makes the differences between our nations, this issue is there beneath the surface. People really don’t forget.

About 25-years ago I looked at doing a degree in the restoration of historic buildings. All of the scholarships were offered by DAR. I inquired, just for amusement, if they would consider an application from a UEL. Unfamiliar with the term, the secretary asked for an explanation. I explained that it was a descendant of those tarred and feathered and ridden out of town on a rail. Her response was “Oh! Well I’ll ask.” The response from that branch was “Tar and feathers still on hand.” We all laughed, but people don’t forget. It all just below the surface.

As we look to the future that may come, we need to remember that this is what we care capable of doing to each other and that for all our fancy weapons, we will devolve pretty quickly back to the long gun and the bully boys. We like to think that we are better than that but we aren’t. All most of us have ever wanted was a piece of land on which to live and raise our families in peace. But when the SHTF again, all bets are off.

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Reminder: I realize for some that this story will tread up sacred cows and sacred history. Please remember that in War there are at least two sides. This story comes from the other side and may contain information from a perspective you have not considered. I hope it will make many go back an read original source materials and take a hard look at what we all did to each other.