d to take no side, but to live at peace with all men. Of such men
there was a very large class, so large in fact that more than one Tory
sympathizer has claimed that the Revolution was fought by a minority of
the people of the colonies, who were so virulent as to force the
moderates into their ranks from dread of personal consequences. Such a
claim is weak upon its very face, and will not bear examination. Most of
the moderates were but waiting to see how the cat would jump, and when
once a preponderance of sentiment showed they speedily took sides. Had
there been in the colonies a majority desirous of a return to
allegiance, the Whig cause surely could not have survived the dark days
of the war. We can safely conclude the majority to have been in favor of
the rights of the colonies, always understanding that they desired
nothing more than they had always had since the accession of George the
Third. A man of such a type is clearly seen in John Andrews, with his
occasional fits of depression and doubt, and his impatient exclamations
against the radicals among the Whigs. Note, for instance, what he says
on the death of William Molineux, one of the prominent Boston Whigs,
whose death was a loss to the cause. "If he was too rash," remarked
Andrews, "and drove matters to an imprudent pitch, it was owing to his
natural temper; as when he was in business, he pursued it with the same
impetuous zeal. His loss is not much regretted by the more prudent and
judicious part of the community." Yet though Andrews could thus express
himself, he could again speak quite otherwise, as the remarks quoted in
this book have already shown. He doubted at times, and was petulant
against the fortune that brought him discomfort and loss, but in the
main he was stanch. Andrews was, then, a type of the moderate who threw
in his lot with his country. Judge Curwen, on the other hand, was one of
the smaller class which, in doubt and despair, withdrew to the
protection of the crown. Many of them were too old to fight; many had
not the heart to lift their hands against their neighbors. Every country
sees such men at every war. Often they may live peaceably, anguished
with doubt, and distressed for humanity. But in a civil war there is
seldom a refuge for them. It was certainly so at the Revolution. A very
few among the Tories, venerated by their neighbors, might remain
neutral; the remainder must take sides, or go. The fighting men felt
that those who were