CELEBRATING THE FOURTH WITH THE ENEMY

CELEBRATING THE FOURTH WITH THE ENEMY
By Dick Meister

The Fourth of July, as we all know, is Independence Day. Hurray for George
Washington and the revolutionaries, down with King George and the British.
That sort of thing.

But have you ever wondered what it's like on the other side? Have you ever
celebrated the Fourth across the border in Canada, in that territory settled
by pro-British "Loyalists" who fled the United States after the
Revolutionary War?

It is a most peculiar experience for one accustomed to the U.S. way of
viewing the events of 1776.

My wife Gerry and I observed the Fourth on the other side once -- in
Fredericton, the beautiful little capital of New Brunswick, named in honor
of King George's second son, Frederic.

Going into Fredericton meant going into the camp of a former enemy -- a
friend now, but a former enemy who openly hailed the "Loyalists" who fought
for them against us. I mean people who opposed our revolution and never even
said they were sorry.

Our first stop was the hallowed Loyalist Cemetery near the banks of the
Saint John River at the edge of the city, burial ground of Fredericton's
revered founders -- anti-American Tories, the lot of them. We trudged down a
muddy path to a ring of trees around a swampy grass clearing in which the
Tory heroes lay, prepared to utter a revolutionary sentiment or two over
them in honor of the holiday.

We managed to get a quick look at a couple of thin, well-worn, tottering
slate headstones -- but that was all. Before we could even open our mouths,
they struck -- angry swarms of dread North woods mosquitoes. Backwards we
dashed. Quickly. Very quickly. We slapped at each other as we squished
awkwardly over the wet ground, batting mosquitoes off hair, face, neck,
arms, clothes.

Much buzzing. Much stinging. They were everywhere. The Tories' revenge. For
days afterward, we bore the swollen red marks of the Loyalists.

More insults were to come, in the elegant Legislative Assembly chambers
downtown, high on the walls, in places of honor on either side of the
Speaker's chair -- to the left a portrait of George III, the very monarch we
made a revolution against, to the right a portrait of his queen, Charlotte.

In the United States, of course, we celebrate the end of colonialism. But in
Fredericton they seemed to yearn for its return. Union Jacks flew from
staffs all over town and portraits of Queen Elizabeth and her consort hung
in government and private buildings everywhere. Ceremonial guards outside
City Hall wore the white pith helmets, long crimson jackets and black
uniform trousers of the British colonial soldier.

Just behind City Hall stood the restored quarters of the British garrison
that was stationed in the city for more than a century, one of the buildings
housing museum full of anti-revolutionary twaddle. Captions below portraits
of leading Loyalists praised them for "faith, courage, sacrifices" against
Yankees, who were for the most part described as violent, crude, rude and
vulgar.

There, too, a portrait of George III hung in a place of honor. Among the
Loyalists singled out was that other fine fellow, Benedict Arnold, who lived
in New Brunswick before slinking off to Mother England in 1791. At least the
museum keepers had the decency to own up to Arnold’s "reputation for
crookedness."

The latter-day Loyalists claimed to like us nevertheless. A half-dozen U.S.
flags fluttered smartly outside the Lord Beaverbrook Hotel, Fredericton's
finest, and the marquee proclaimed, "We Salute our American Friends. Happy
4th of July."

Sure thing. Funny, though, that they forgot to call off the mosquitoes.

Copyright © Dick Meister

Story ID:	2437
Written by:	Dick Meister (bio, link, contact, other stories)
Story type:	Story
Location:	Fredericton New Brunswick Canada
Year:	1990