Life Under British Occupation During the American Revolution

As British redcoats flooded into America’s bustling port cities during the Revolutionary War, the clatter of boots, the neigh of horses and the steady beat of drums signaled a stark choice for civilians: Flee their homes and livelihoods—or stay and endure the uneasy reality of military occupation.

Most colonists in occupied cities in the 1770s and 1780s—major seaports like Boston, Newport, New York and Charleston—were Loyalists who’d thrown their lot in with England’s king. Initially, many welcomed the British, grateful for the protection they offered from revolutionary demands like forced oaths of allegiance and mandatory militia service. Patriots and pacifists who stayed tried to avoid the military occupiers as best they could.

When the British began their nine-month occupation of Philadelphia in 1777, General Sir William Howe assured the two-thirds of residents who remained in what was America's first capital that he was “desirous of protecting the innocent.” Quaker diarist Elizabeth Sandwith Drinker described the occupation’s early days as marked by “great quiate,” while merchant Jacob Mordecai recalled “the officers were polite & the soldiers civil.”

For most colonists, however, any initial calm soon gave way to hardship and resentment as the heavy hand of British martial law began to touch nearly every aspect of daily life, causing food privation, business disruption and the constant threat of theft, destruction and bodily harm.

Occupied cities quickly became overcrowded as Loyalist refugees poured in, seeking protection, says Rebecca Brannon, professor of early American history at James Madison University. “Displaced people are trying to find ways to support themselves. People are jostling for the same jobs. There are food shortages.” American men and British soldiers fought over day labor jobs like loading ships or coiling ropes, she adds. “And that creates a lot of open conflict. People are trying to live their normal lives, but there’s this … constant threat of violence.”

Most civilians lived under tight restrictions. Military checkpoints and strict pass systems limited free movement, cutting people off from family and trade partners and hurting income. Still, smugglers and spies slipped through British lines when they could, risking capture to keep information and goods moving. In families and businesses where political loyalties diverged, distrust and hostility grew.

Most colonists struggled to connect with the world beyond the occupied bubble. “You could have correspondence outside the city,” says historian Aaron Sullivan, author of The Disaffected: Britain’s Occupation of Philadelphia During the American Revolution. “But you wrote letters knowing they’d go through British censors, then the Continentals. You never really knew for sure if that letter was going to arrive.”

As plundering by soldiers and local opportunists grew common, families started hiding money and valuables in cupboards, shoes or even buried in their yards. The British army seized livestock, wagons, household goods, whatever they needed—often promising payment that never came. In his 1849 account of “revolutionary incidents” on Long Island, author Henry Onderdonk Jr. meticulously catalogued the fallout. In March 1777, for example, the British Fleet took from John Brown on Fishers Island “106 sheep, 8 oxen, 11 cows, 22 yearlings, 26 swine, 24 turkies, 48 fowls, 123 bushels corn, 100 do. potatoes, 5 1/2 tons pressed hay and 3 cords wood. Also, a barrel of pork out of the cellar, blankets, sheets, and shot some sheep.” (They did pay for some livestock.)

Even those who willingly remained in occupied cities couldn’t escape the pervasive sense of dread. James Allen, a prominent Philadelphia lawyer and Loyalist, wrote in his diary that he was “in perpetual fear of being robbed, plundered & insulted.” Another observer, Sullivan reports in his book, recalled how the drums of the Hessian grenadiers (German mercenaries fighting for the British) seemed to sound a steady beat of “plunder-plunder-plunder,” a rhythm he found “dreadful beyond expression.”

Adding to the chaos, British soldiers often trashed Patriot homes and set them ablaze. Women and girls suffered sexual violence at the hands of occupying soldiers, with survivor depositions in the Papers of the Continental Congress reflecting, in particular, the harrowing experiences of women during the New York and New Jersey campaigns of 1776 and 1777. At one point, wrote Sally Smith Booth in her 1973 book The Women of ’76, “rapes committed upon local women increased so drastically that a major conflict developed between the population and occupying troops”—a problem the British government tried to address by shipping in thousands of English prostitutes.

As in any conflict, violence and raiding came from both sides. “No matter your political allegiance, says Liam Riordan, a professor of history at the University of Maine, “most people are just hunkering down and trying to survive the war without sacrificing their families.”

As the occupation dragged on, British soldiers, weary of tents and barracks, billeted with reluctant residents—commandeering kitchens and nailing shut doors to the rest of the home. One occupying officer persuaded Drinker to let him stay, claiming it was for her protection, since her husband had been arrested and exiled. Major “J. Crammond … appears to be a thoughtful sober young man,” she wrote on December 31, 1777.

Some of her neighbors were less fortunate: Drinker described how an occupier had barred her neighbor Mary Eddy from using her own front door—and shocked her by moving his mistress in. Other officers brandished arms, bashed in doors and used abusive tactics to take over homes.

Still, most officers paid well for board, 20 shillings per week, according to 19th-century historian James Riker, and provided security against marauders. Sometimes, they generously shared provisions at mealtime. Other times, families watched as officers ate heartily, leaving them with whatever meager scraps they could afford as food shortages spiked prices.

Amid the fear and disruption, some people found ways to reinvent themselves and even prosper. Boston King was among thousands of enslaved men, women and children who fled plantations and found opportunity with the British Army. After their defeat, he and his wife were evacuated to Nova Scotia, where he became a minister. “For enslaved people, freedom wore a red coat,” Brannon says. In South Carolina alone, she adds, an estimated 20 percent or more of the enslaved population tried to reach British protection.

Some Loyalist merchants grew rich provisioning the British invaders—and charging them wartime markups. For upper-class residents, especially young women, occupation life offered the thrill of mingling with high-ranking British officers at glittering balls, dinners, concerts, plays and teas. A young Elizabeth Tauncey described New York in the spring of 1782: “This is to be sure for young Ladies who love gaiety, a most delightful place.” During Newport’s three-year occupation, the Anglican Church recorded more than a dozen marriages between British officers and local women, along with several baptisms of their children.

In spring of 1778 in Philadelphia, British officers and Loyalist elites gathered for one of the most lavish events of the war: the Meschianza, a grandiose farewell for General Howe. Held at an estate along the Delaware River, the fête featured mock jousts, fireworks, music and dancing. A month later, the redcoats left Philadelphia as “occupation essentially ended with a whimper,” Sullivan says, after France entered the war, diverting British attention.

Five years later, the British withdrew from New York City—their last and longest-held American stronghold—bringing an official end to British rule in America. For Loyalists who had prospered under occupation, or least felt protected, the army’s departure left them exposed. “For many people, it’s a relief to have the army out,” Sullivan says. “But if you’re a committed Loyalist, or if you became one while in the army, this was a dangerous moment.”

As many as 100,000 Loyalists and formerly enslaved people fled with the departing redcoats, bound for London, the Caribbean and Nova Scotia. Hundreds of thousands more stayed behind, hoping to rebuild their lives amid uncertainty.

Some quietly reintegrated, shielded by Patriot neighbors who refused to turn them in—perhaps because everyone was simply ready to move on. “People are wiped out and just trying to create a post-war society,” Riordan says.

Others weren’t as lucky: Some were declared treasonous (without trials), and their estates were seized. Seeking redemption, many petitioned neighbors to vouch that they were decent citizens who had put the war behind them.

“If you can get that from your neighbors, then not only can you stay, but it’s proof you did the work getting forgiveness in your community,” says Brannon. “To me it’s a very optimistic and very wild story. It’s that American gift for putting the future ahead of the past.”