Here’s what happened to Philadelphians who supported the British in the American Revolution

In the fall of 1777, the British occupied Philadelphia, only to abandon the city nine months later when France — shout out to Lafayette! — declared war on Great Britain and recognized the United States’ independence.

But, what happened to those Philadelphians who supported the British? Did they have their property confiscated? Were they tarred and feathered? Did many stay in Philadelphia? A reader asked Curious Philly, The Inquirer’s forum for questions about the city and region.

It might seem like Philly was always a revolutionary city, but “tons of people were against the revolution, very lukewarm, or their opinions changed,” according to Tyler Putman, senior manager of gallery interpretation at the Museum of the American Revolution.

In times of war, that had consequences.

Once the rebels caught word of the Brits’ imminent arrival, men presumed to be pro-crown were exiled. They didn’t even have to be loyalists; if they weren’t patriots, they were exiled from the city.

“It was like ‘You seem like when the British get here, you’re gonna be really excited, so we’re going to exile you to Winchester, Virginia,’” said Putman.

Henry Drinker, 43, a middle-class Quaker, was one of them.

As a Quaker, Drinker’s pacifism prevented him and his family from taking a side and he was sent away. His wife, Elizabeth Drinker, 42, took over managing their household and continuously asked George Washington to release her husband. Drinker recorded her daily life in diary, which has become an important record of life during that time.

The Old City couple was not reunited by the time the British descended upon Philadelphia in September 1777.

The soldiers took over the Pennsylvania State House, now Independence Hall, turning it into officers’ barracks and a prisoner-of-war facility where Quaker women would sometimes feed prisoners.

At the same time, the British offered freedom to people enslaved by rebels in exchange for joining their forces, according to Putman.

“We’re used to this good-guy-bad-guy model,” he said. “You see how complicated it was because of the individual ideas, things like ‘I would just like to be free personally, regardless of who controls the country’ had a much bigger influence [in who people sided with.]”

In June 1778, the British left the city to never return.

Some of the Black soldiers who had joined loyalist troops remained with the army for the rest of the war; others moved to Nova Scotia and England, Putman said. Loyalist merchants and tradespeople who moved to England petitioned the king to repay them for property they lost back in Philadelphia.

The ones who didn’t cross the pond headed to New York, where what was left of the empire hunkered down until the end of the war. That was the case for loyalist merchant Joseph Galloway, who had become a military governor during the occupation.

He took his daughter but left his wife, Grace Galloway, behind, a common tactic to prevent the siege of property, according to Putman. They never reunited.

The fates of the loyalists differed if they decided to stay in Philadelphia, but one thing is certain: No one was tarred and feathered.

“Philly is pushing the edges of the revolution, but it tends to be less outwardly violent than Boston,” Putman said.

That is, until two Philadelphians paid with their lives.

Quakers John Roberts and Abraham Carlisle were hanged, at what is now City Hall, for allegedly collaborating with the British, according to Elizabeth Drinker’s diary.

Despite requests for pardons, Roberts and Carlisle were put on trial and later lost their lives.

“It was the state government sending a message,” Putman said. “We’re gonna choose you two guys because you’re prominent and you were here the whole time.”

Still, the losses for royalists, pacifist Quakers, and neutral Philadelphians were mainly material and emotional.

Henry Drinker returned to Philly after nine months in exile to see his property confiscated by the government.

The Drinkers had decided to stop paying their taxes in 1777 to avoid contributing to the war. As a result, their property — including a set of chairs, pewter platters, and furniture currently exhibited at the Museum of the American Revolution in Old City — was seized the next year by a state government committee who auctioned the items off.

A family friend is speculated to have helped the Drinkers recover their belongings. Elizabeth Drinker now has a historic marker in Old City, commemorating her chronicling of the era.

Not everyone was so lucky.

Grace Galloway’s home was eventually confiscated by the patriots. She is said to have been physically carried out of her house, unwilling to leave.

“She was really sad that she went from a life of respect, dignity, and privilege to one of living in a single room not being able to afford firewood,” Putman said.