The Trial and Execution of the Traitor George Washington

by Charles Rosenberg

  He was thus on his own in figuring it out, as he was loath to accept the list of suggested barristers that Hartleb had offered. There was no way to know in what way particular lawyers on Hartleb’s list might be beholden to the government, or hoping for later favour by giving Washington less than a robust defence. An alternative was to try to locate the few patriotic Americans who were in London—not the thousands of Loyalists who had fled there—and ask them for suggestions.

  At one time he might himself have been one of those American Londoners. He had thought of going to London to train as a barrister. He had opted instead, after attending the College of New Jersey in Princeton, to return to Philadelphia, where he apprenticed himself to an older lawyer nearing the end of his career. A man who himself had trained at the Inns of Court in London.

  His room, on the second floor of the guest house, looked out on a park and was elegantly furnished. A large feather bed surrounded by embroidered curtains sat next to one wall, and a clearly expensive armoire against another, with a washstand and basin beside it. Against the third wall there was an exquisite cherrywood dresser with drawers on the bottom, surmounted by a drop-down desk and a glass-doored bookcase. A comfortable fire had been lit in a fireplace surrounded by an ornate black marble mantel. Above it hung a large portrait of George III in hunting attire. He stared at it. Perhaps it was meant to suggest to him that his country was prey.

  He wandered over to the bookcase, opened the doors and looked through the books, which were mostly Shakespearean plays and recent novels. There was one called The Sylph, some of whose pages were still uncut, showing a publication date of 1778. Its author was listed only and oddly as A Young Lady. As he paged through the uncut pages in the front of the book, it seemed a bit racy. He was looking forward to settling down with it when there was a knock on the door.

  He opened it, and there stood the house’s porter, Mr. Jarvis, to whom he’d been briefly introduced upon his arrival.

  Quite seemingly proud to announce it, Jarvis said, “The Right Honourable Edmund Burke, MP, is here and requests to see you. He regrets his lack of an appointment.”

  “Well, I certainly know of him. He’s been one of our largest supporters in Parliament. Please ask him to come up.”

  “Sir, if I may, it would be more appropriate to meet him in the parlour.” He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head back slightly. There was clearly an unspoken “you colonial bumpkin.”

  “I’ll be delighted to do that as well, as soon as I am properly dressed for such a meeting.”

  “Sir, may I speak freely?”

  “Of course, Mr. Jarvis. You may always do so with me. This is not my country, I have a delicate mission and assistance is always of value.”

  “Sir, Edmund Burke is a famous orator and an important Member of Parliament. I know that he shares many of your countrymen’s opinions about matters of how your colonies should be governed.”

  “I have read some of his speeches, and, yes, he apparently does.”

  Jarvis pursed his lips and looked down at the floor, clearly trying to decide whether to go further. He looked up and said, “But he is a Whig, and the Whigs are in the minority. Which means he is an opponent of the current government.”

  “And therefore?”

  “It is perhaps not my station to tell you this, but allying yourself too closely with him may not benefit your cause.”

  “I thank you for telling me. It is much appreciated. And you need not worry about your station.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I was a Whig myself, not too long ago, before the Revolution began.”

  “What are you now?”

  “A Patriot. I like to think we have dispensed with parties in my country, at least for the moment.”

  “We should not keep Mr. Burke waiting.”

  “No, we should not, but I will first need Mr. Sellars to assist me in dressing for the occasion. What I am wearing currently is not appropriate to meet a Member of Parliament. Please ask Mr. Sellars, if he is available, to come in. I should be ready to go downstairs in about thirty minutes. I’m sure Mr. Burke will understand the needs of a gentleman to be appropriately attired.”

  Sellars arrived shortly thereafter and helped him select clothing from his trunks—a blue waistcoat with black breeches and, on his left leg, a black leather boot. He also removed the iron peg that was usually attached to his wooden leg—the leg had been amputated just below the knee—and replaced it with a peg of silver. It was impractical for regular use because it wore too quickly, but for show, particularly for a meeting with someone he’d never encountered before, it was perfect.

  Jarvis arrived back just as he finished dressing.

  “Thank you, Mr. Sellars,” he said. “Lead the way, Mr. Jarvis.”

  Jarvis held the door to the room open for him, and he headed for the stairs. He had long ago learned to navigate a set of steps without clunking his way down. But he chose, this time, to let the silver pin make a very distinct bang, both on the wooden steps and as he stumped his way across the entrance hall towards the parlour doors, which were closed.

  31

  Jarvis, trailed by Abbott, flung open the doors to the room and announced to whomever might be within, “His Excellency Ethan Abbott, Ambassador of the Continental Congress of the American States.”

  The announcement startled Abbott. It was not so much being called Excellency as hearing the Continental Congress referred to, here in the heart of London—and despite what Hartleb had said—as the governing body of a country. It made his scalp prickle.

  The man who was presumably Burke stood up before Jarvis had an opportunity to perform any introductions and said, “A very good day to you, Excellency. I am Edmund Burke, a Member of Parliament, and I have come to welcome you to London.”

  He was a short man, with a long nose, a ruddy complexion and red hair, unpowdered. He had a rich Irish accent, which surprised Abbott even though he well knew that Burke was Irish.

  “And good day to you, sir,” Abbott said.

  Jarvis interrupted. “May I serve you gentlemen tea? Or perhaps something stronger, given the hour?”

  “I think not at the moment,” Burke said.

  “Nor I, Jarvis. But would you enquire again in a little while?”

  “I will do that, sir,” he said and withdrew.

  “Your Excellency,” Burke said as they both sat, “permit me to explain the purpose of my visit.”

  “Before you do that, and I apologize if it is rude to interrupt you in this way, do you have any news of General Washington?”

  “I have not seen him. I hear only that he is being held in the Tower, is uninjured and comfortable. He is even able to walk about some parts of the Tower grounds.”

  “I have demanded to see him, or if not him, Lord North first and then him, but been given evasive answers.”

  “Not surprising. A trick of this government is to make people wait. You shouldn’t shy from insisting on your right to see each of them, and promptly. Or you will cool your heels here for weeks while your general rots in the Tower.”

  “I shall take your advice. But if you hear any news of him, will you let me know immediately?”

  “Of course, Excellency.”

  “There is no need to call me Excellency. I would be pleased to be called simply Abbott, especially by so eminent a person as yourself.”

  “Sir, I would not give up the moniker of Excellency so easily were I you. Titles go a long way in this land of lords, earls, barons, knights and what have you. And your title also puts forward the seriousness of your mission and the scope of your authority.”

  “I will follow your lead, then.”

  “And also, and in any case, we do not often use even unadorned last names amongst us, except when we’re children, when we use Christian names, unless the other child is titled.”


  “True in my country as well, except that we don’t have aristocratic titles.”

  Burke raised his eyebrows. “Your country. You already think of yourselves as a fully separate country?”

  “Yes.”

  He pursed his lips and shook his head slowly up and down. “Well, I suppose you do, I suppose you do. The time when we might have worked something out and remained one country may be in the past now, although it saddens me.”

  Abbott chose not to respond directly and said instead, “I have read and admired many of your speeches, Mr. Burke, especially the one you gave some years ago on American taxation. It was reprinted in full in our newspapers, as your speeches continue to be with regularity. All of us appreciate your support for our independence.”

  Burke smiled. “Ah, there are those who read what I say that way. But, to be clear, I didn’t support your independence as much as support your rights as Englishmen to have authority over your own taxes and certain aspects of governance, including representation in Parliament. But not to gainsay the absolute sovereignty of Parliament over every part of the Empire.”

  “I see. But in any case, you are greatly more of a supporter of ours than is Lord North.”

  “That most certainly.”

  “Let me ask, if I may be direct, the exact purpose of your visit.”

  Burke rose and went to stand with his back to the fire. “Please forgive my standing. I am now past fifty years and find myself cold all winter long.”

  “Yes, it’s not only cold here, but damp to boot. Worse even than Philadelphia.”

  “Before I get to my purpose in coming today, may I ask how you lost your leg?”

  “At Saratoga.”

  “Ah, that was a loss my fellow members of Parliament found hard to grasp. It was a shock to them. And to me as well, I would admit.”

  Abbott stretched out his leg, so that the metal tip on the end shone in the firelight. He laughed. “To me, too, but in a different way.”

  Burke stared for a few seconds, then said, “You asked the purpose of my visit. I am here because it is being bandied about that the King—and perhaps Lord North, too—want to see General Washington tried for high treason and have imposed upon him a gruesome traitor’s death. If that be true, an investigation by the Solicitor General will soon be launched. General Washington will need a barrister to represent him. The sooner the better.”

  Abbott smiled. “And I suppose you could be that barrister, eh, Mr. Burke?”

  “I could. Although it has been many years since I practised before the courts. These days I largely save my words for the House of Commons.”

  “And yet you could do it?”

  “I believe I maintain the skills, and I have retained a relationship with a barrister’s chambers in the Inner Temple, where I was first trained and admitted to the bar.”

  “Is that enough?”

  “I would think so. But more important, I would be known to the judges who will sit on this matter.”

  “Favourably or unfavourably?”

  “There is that. In candour, it depends.”

  “Will this be a jury trial?”

  “Most certainly. Unless you waive the jury, which I would not advise.”

  “How do you do with juries?”

  “I always did well. At least when I was on my best behaviour—not sarcastic and not quite so openly treating my opponents as fools. As they so often so richly deserved to be treated.”

  “I still wonder if that is enough.”

  There was a gentle knock on the door and Jarvis reappeared. “I should like to enquire again if you gentlemen desire tea or some other libation?”

  “Thank you. I think I will have a cup of tea,” Burke said.

  Abbott pondered it for a few seconds. Would being out of Pennsylvania, where the drinking of tea had become an act of near treason, absolve him of his pledge? He thought not. “I no longer drink tea,” he said.

  Burke smiled a broad smile. “Of course you don’t. Hard as it is to believe, I had almost forgotten about that little tea party you had in Boston.” He looked back at Jarvis. “On second thought, I will pass. I don’t think we’ll be much longer.”

  “I’m not in need of anything,” Abbott said.

  Jarvis withdrew from the room again, and Abbott continued. “We were discussing your trial skills.”

  “My trial skills are not what’s relevant here.”

  “What is?”

  “My political skills.”

  “Why would those be of importance? You’re, as I understand it, a Whig, a member of the opposition, and thus not in position to make things happen.”

  “Abbott—I think I will call you that since you invited it, and you may call me Burke—you don’t yet understand the game that is afoot here. Lord North did not bring Washington here to see him executed.”

  “What for, then?”

  “To use as a bargaining chip to extract from your Continental Congress what we have not been able to achieve by either military gains or negotiation heretofore.”

  “Which is what?”

  “To have you stay in the bloody Empire and recognize the sovereignty of Parliament over you.”

  “What is on the other end of the bargain?”

  “Whatever you want. The power to tax, the right to have your own assembly make your laws. Even representation in Parliament if you can find anyone willing to cross the Atlantic twice a year in order to listen to endless prattle.”

  “And if that deal is not struck?”

  “Washington will hang by the neck until he is dead.”

  “Which you claim is not North’s intention.”

  “I am sure it is not. He wants out of this war, even though he in large part caused it. But this kidnapping is the type of thing that, once launched, can slip a man’s control.”

  “Meaning if we don’t agree, they will have to carry out the threat implicit in the trial.”

  “Yes, and with the King egging him on.”

  He had his instructions, of course. But he didn’t want to give them all away. So he said only, “Well, we might stay in the trade arrangement. But I am afraid they will have to cede our full independence.”

  “The King will never agree to that. If you are insistent on it, you may have to decide what General Washington is really worth to your country.”

  “I see.”

  “But in any case, while the game is being played, there is no person better than I, steeped now for almost two decades in the politics of the American rebellion—a leading opponent of the war—to support that negotiation on your behalf, while formally serving as the General’s lawyer.”

  Burke had presented him with a difficult choice. Abbott had no interest in committing to any course of action in the spur of the moment. But he also wanted to avoid offending Burke, who might prove a powerful ally. He temporized. “Which lawyer to hire is, of course, a decision for His Excellency.”

  “There would be no need to hire me. I would represent him without fee.” He moved away from the fireplace and began to pace around the room, hands behind his back. “Please forgive my walking about. I am afraid this weather stiffens my joints.”

  “I will put your suggestion to His Excellency.”

  “There is only one problem with regards to my representation, Abbott. I am not permitted, as a matter of barristers’ practice, to solicit clients. Even by coming here and making the suggestion, I may have crossed the line.”

  “How would it normally be done here, then?”

  “A solicitor would procure my services on behalf of his client.”

  “Am I equivalent to a solicitor?”

  Burke grinned. “Are you a lawyer in your own city?”

  “Yes.”

  “I see no reason that you could not instruct me. You don’t have to be a mem
ber of the bar to instruct. Having a legal education in order to fill that role is more a tradition than an absolute requirement. In any case, you have a legal education, acquired in this same Kingdom, albeit at a distance.”

  “True. Rest assured I will bring up the entire topic with the General—just as soon as I’m able to meet with him. Perhaps you can find a way to speed it up, Burke.” He rose from his chair—something he had discovered in his law practice to be a polite way of bringing a meeting to an end. “I thank you very much for your visit.”

  “It was my pleasure,” Burke said. “There is one other thing, by the way.”

  “Which is?”

  “I am sure you’re very comfortable in this dwelling—” he waved his hand about as if to take in the entire house “—capacious, well-furnished, with many servants. And with multiple fireplaces, well-lit and warm.”

  “Yes.”

  “But you will be constantly spied on here. That man Jarvis? He is likely a spy. I wouldn’t be surprised if he were listening on the other side of the door this very moment. Even if he is not, your movements will no doubt be reported to the government on a daily if not hourly basis.”

  “I had intended in any case to spend only a few days here. And there is, Burke, a possible solution.” He told him about Franklin’s friend Mrs. Stevenson.

  “I was aware Dr. Franklin knew her,” he replied. “And that he resided at her home with her family. I have not made her acquaintance personally, but I will endeavour immediately to contact her on your behalf. I’m sure that once she hears that you know Dr. Franklin, even if you do not have a letter of introduction directly from him, that you are likely to be welcome in her home.”

  “I would be most grateful.”

  “Once those arrangements are made, I would make haste to leave here.”

  “I will.”

  As he approached the door to the room, Burke turned and looked at him. “What is General Washington worth to your country, do you think?”

  “Everything.”

  “Then you had best find a way to resolve the negotiation before your general is convicted.”

  “Why?”

  “Because if he is convicted of treason, the mandatory sentence is death by hanging, usually cut down and disembowelled before the prisoner is actually dead. And then the body is quartered, and the head removed.”