“There are others who can accomplish that.”
“I do not agree, Excellency.”
“Even if there are not others who can accomplish it, and the war is lost, it will be lost only for the moment. There are not enough British soldiers, nor enough money in the British treasury, to subdue the spirit of liberty that has been unleashed in our land. Their soldiers will be fired at for years—decades if needed—from behind every rock and tree and every house and barn. Eventually they will give up and go home.”
“You will not defend yourself in a trial, then?”
Washington was quiet for a long time. Abbott could sense he was thinking how to respond to the question. He took a deep breath and said, “I will defend myself. It will present an excellent opportunity to argue our case directly to the British people, who, by the way, have many similar complaints about their own loss of liberty.”
“In that case, you will need a lawyer to help you make your case most effectively.”
“I am not sure I need one, but perhaps you are right. You are a lawyer, are you not?”
“Yes, but obviously not admitted to the bar here.”
“Who, then?”
“Edmund Burke stopped by to see me yesterday to volunteer for the role, without pay.”
“Now, that is an astonishing thing, I must admit. And flattering. But he is only partly on our side. He defends us but insists Parliament must remain sovereign over us even if it does nothing—for now—to bring that sovereign power to bear.”
“You will reject his offer?”
“Yes. With thanks, of course. Instead, I want an American. Someone born over there but admitted to the bar here.”
“I know of no such person.”
“I am aware that there were many Americans here studying to be lawyers when the war broke out. Some of them must by now be members of the bar. Or others who came before. Go find them.”
34
It was a beautiful, sunny winter day, and Abraham Hobhouse, gazing out the window at the green lawn that stretched away from his office, felt content. He had recently become a full partner in the barristers’ chambers of which his father-in-law, Samuel Fletcher, was the head. And Abraham’s wife, Abigail—Fletcher’s only daughter—was three months pregnant with their first child. It was perhaps regrettable that the child would be born in England and probably raised there, too, and not, like himself, born and raised in America. His life was otherwise on the path to success that he had long envisioned for himself, even though it had taken a turn he had not anticipated.
His original plan, after receiving his barristers’ training in England, had been to return to Philadelphia, the city of his birth and upbringing, and establish a law practice there as a lawyer trained at London’s prestigious Lincoln’s Inn. All of that had been upended by the rebellion, of which he had had only an inkling when he departed Philadelphia for London at the age of eighteen in 1761. Nor had he planned, when he started as a pupil at Fletcher Chambers at Lincoln’s Inn, to one day fall in love with Abigail when she came of age.
His reverie was interrupted when his secretary entered and handed him an envelope. It was addressed to him personally and bore a printed return address—Continental States of America—which he had never on stationery before seen, although he had read in the newspapers that the rebel assembly in Philadelphia was calling itself by that name.
Upon reading the message within, he bolted out of his chair and practically ran down the hall to the office occupied by his father-in-law. After giving a perfunctory knock on the open door and watching Samuel Fletcher turn around to face him—he was sitting, as usual, in his well-worn brown leather chair with the carved wooden arms—he said, “Mr. Fletcher, I received a note from a Mr. Ethan Abbott. If I do not mistake, he’s the man the papers say is here as the Ambassador Plenipotentiary from the rebel assembly to try to negotiate George Washington’s release. He wants to meet with me.”
“He may be looking for personal legal advice,” Fletcher said. “The newspapers say that the government has treated him shabbily. Both Lord North and Lord Germain have declined to meet with him. Instead they have sent an untitled assistant. Quite insulting, really, even though I may not have much sympathy for his cause.”
“But as you have taught me so well, we don’t give personal legal advice to people. We represent them in court only after they have been charged with a crime or sued.”
“True. Yet perhaps that is not what this is really about,” Fletcher said. “We don’t know yet.”
“We may not know, but I strongly suspect Ambassador Abbott is looking for a barrister to serve as General Washington’s counsel in a trial should he be indicted. To undertake such an engagement, we require a solicitor to retain us and then instruct us on how to handle the case. The papers say that Abbott is a lawyer. But that doesn’t make him a solicitor, or at least not in this jurisdiction.”
“Son, the man who brought me up in this business, may he rest in peace, always said, ‘Never turn a potential client away without hearing him out.’ Meet with him. And now let me ask, how is Abigail doing?”
“She seems fine, if suffering from a bit of distress in the mornings, which seems to be declining as she moves on in term.”
“Her late mother had much the same problem.”
“I should meet with Mr. Abbott, then?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want to join?”
“No, certainly not.”
Abraham smiled. “So as to blame any problems that develop on me?”
“What else are young partners for, eh?”
* * *
The meeting with Abbott was quickly arranged for the next day.
Hobhouse had to admit that he was surprised when Abbott arrived wearing elegant business attire, including a soft brown leather coat. He had expected, not exactly a rube, but certainly not someone dressed at the height of fashion. Almost twenty years in London had apparently turned him into something of a snob.
After they had made their introductions, he saw no harm in commenting on it. “I must say, Mr. Abbott, I’m admiring of your fine suit. I myself am originally from Philadelphia, and I don’t recall having been able to purchase that kind of thing back there. Much as I would’ve liked to do so.”
As soon as he said it, he realized how awkward it had sounded, although Abbott seemed to take no offence and said simply, in response, “I was somewhat limited in what I could bring with me due to the haste of my departure on this mission. Once I arrived here, I took some time to look for something more in fashion.”
“And you found it, obviously.”
“Yes. In Aldwych. I located a tailor who by happenstance had in stock a suit of clothes in my rather tall size that had for some reason been rejected by another customer. He lent them to me while he is making something bespoke for me. Well, more than one item, actually.”
Hobhouse had learned, also from his father-in-law, that clients, especially potential new ones, often enjoyed engaging in some conversation about personal things before getting down to business. It made the transaction seem less commercial, especially if they were in distress and in need of help and, really, friendship. And that was what he and Abbott were doing. But interested as he was in Abbott’s fashion needs—for the man seemed almost to be dressed for an evening out—he wanted to get down to the real business at hand. “I’m happy to hear you’re finding what you need in London, Ambassador,” Hobhouse said. “But what can we at Fletcher Chambers do for you, since we are hardly an emporium?” He smiled in a way he hoped would communicate his inherent scepticism about what Abbott might want.
“They are going to put General Washington on trial, and he will need a barrister.”
“Really? The newspapers have reported that the government is intending to use his capture to grease the wheels for a quick settlement of your Revolution.”
> “Is it not your Revolution, as well? You are by birth and upbringing an American, are you not?”
“Yes, I am, but I admit to mixed feelings about the rebellion. On the one hand, I can understand how people in the colonies feel that their liberties are being trampled, particularly in the area of taxation.”
“But on the other hand?”
“On the other, now that I have resided here these many years, and have an English wife and English in-laws, I can understand that the mother country has spent a great deal of treasure defending the frontiers in America against the Indians and the French. It should be paid for, at least in part, by those who are being protected.”
“Shouldn’t the needed taxes not be voted on by those people themselves?”
Hobhouse laughed. “Perhaps, but as you must know, the people themselves have refused to vote in those taxes, or at least so I have read.”
At that moment, the door to the small room in which they were meeting opened, and, to Hobhouse’s astonishment, Samuel Fletcher himself walked in, carrying a tray which held a teapot, two cups and a plate of small cakes. Both he and Abbott stood up, and Hobhouse said, “Mr. Abbott, allow me to introduce the head of our chambers, Mr. Samuel Fletcher.”
Fletcher put the tray down, extended his hand and said, “Welcome to Fletcher Chambers, Ambassador.”
Abbott extended his own hand, shook and said, “So pleased to meet you, sir.”
“It’s a cold day and I thought I would bring you some hot tea and some cakes and make sure that Mr. Hobhouse is getting you what you need. And I also have to admit to curiosity about how you came to know about us.”
“I am lodging with Mrs. Margaret Stevenson, and she recommended you. I believe she knew your father when she was a little girl.”
“Ah, yes, that is so. In any case, Ambassador, I just wanted to be sure you are getting what you need from Mr. Hobhouse.”
“Yes, most definitely,” Abbott said. “Although I don’t think we’ve yet gotten to the meat of it.”
“I will leave you to locate the meat, then. Please let me know if you need anything,” he said and withdrew.
After Fletcher shut the door, Abbott asked, smiling broadly, “Does the senior partner always serve tea?”
“I’ve never seen it before, Mr. Abbott. I suppose he just wanted to set eyes on you. May I pour you a cup?”
“No, thank you. I no longer drink tea, and I think I will pass on the cakes as well for now.”
“Coffee if we have it?”
“There is no need.”
Hobhouse poured himself a cup and said, “Let us return to the topic at hand. If you know, what is the charge to be brought against Mr. Washington?”
“Not mister, General Washington, or more properly, His Excellency.”
Hobhouse laughed. “If you wish, although he is usually called General only in Whig newspapers. But in any case, with what crime are they planning to charge His Excellency?”
“High treason.”
He lurched back. “Well, that truly astonishes. And makes little sense unless the government is intending to execute him, enrage the Americans and then spend even more blood and treasure to try to crush the rebellion in a way we’ve not yet figured out how to do.”
“I have been given to understand this involves not so much the wishes of the government but those of the King.”
“I don’t know who has told you that, Mr. Abbott, but the King in our system has very limited powers. It is the government which decides with what crimes people are to be charged.”
“I was told that by an assistant to Lord North, and His Excellency has already been interviewed by the Solicitor General.”
“He will then need an excellent barrister immediately. We can certainly recommend a chambers skilled in defending treason and sedition cases.”
“No, I’ve come to determine if your chambers, and you in particular, would be competent and willing to undertake His Excellency’s defence.”
Hobhouse had learned from his father-in-law not to respond instantly to propositions that he found surprising. He just sat there for a moment, saying nothing. He saw, though, that Abbott was willing to wait just as patiently for him to respond.
He got up, began to pace around the room, finally turned towards Abbott and said, “Sir, I have defended many serious felony cases, but never a high treason case. Such cases, which are fortunately rare so far this decade, usually involve politics or religion, and we here at Fletcher try to avoid them.”
“I see.”
“I am flattered—we are flattered—but surely there are any number of the other chambers here at Lincoln’s Inn, or at one of the other Inns of Court, who would be much more suited.”
“General Washington insists on having an American-born lawyer, and there are very few Americans associated with chambers that carry the reputation for excellence that I have learned this one does.”
“Again, I am flattered. But without agreeing to undertake this representation at your behest—and I understand that you are a lawyer, albeit not exactly an English lawyer—let me ask you, what is the defence?”
“That the rebellion, as you call it, is not a rebellion at all but rather a lawful attempt by the people of America to retrieve liberties that have been taken away from them.”
“That is not a defence, just an excuse for unlawful activity.”
“Perhaps so, but if you accept this representation, your job will be to find a way to turn my argument into a winning defence that will allow His Excellency to walk free.”
35
Hobhouse and Abbott then conversed further about a variety of things, including fees, which Abbott assured him he was prepared to advance. Hobhouse cautioned Abbott, as the ambassador prepared to leave to go back to Mrs. Stevenson’s, that the decision whether he would be permitted to represent Washington was one that would have to be made by the entire partnership of Fletcher Chambers. There was no guarantee that the vote would be favourable.
As soon as Abbott left, Hobhouse walked down the hall to see his father-in-law. The truth of the matter was that it would be Fletcher and Fletcher alone who would make the decision, even though he was almost eighty. The views of the other partners were only advisory, if Fletcher even bothered to consult with them.
Hobhouse found him sitting in his office, smoking a pipe and reading the London Advertiser. Fletcher looked up from his paper and said, without removing the pipe from his mouth, which tended to muffle his voice, “It says here that this fellow Abbott is trying to negotiate a resolution to the war—Washington’s freedom in exchange for the colonies staying in the Empire. It would be interesting to participate in that negotiation. Not to mention fame-producing for our chambers.”
“For certain it would be that,” Hobhouse said. “But the dead fly in the ointment is that, according to Ambassador Abbott, General Washington has no real defence, or at least nothing we would think a defence.”
Fletcher took a long pull on his pipe, blew the smoke out again and finally said, “A losing proposition, I’d think. And one in which he will be wagering with his life.”
“Likely so. But the urgent question before our firm is, shall we take the case?”
“You mean, should you take the case. It is you he wants, I assume, because you are an American.”
“Yes.”
“Well, I leave it to you, Mr. Hobhouse. If you want the case, the chambers will support you with all we have.”
“Thank you, Mr. Fletcher.”
“You realize, I assume, Mr. Hobhouse, that if you win, fame and glory will descend upon you, and you will in the future have every wealthy client in London beating a path to your door.”
“Yes.”
“But if you lose and your client is executed...”
“You well know that I have had that grim experience once before.”
“I do know. I simply mean to remind you.”
“I need no reminding, Mr. Fletcher.”
“No, I suppose you don’t. There is one more thing, however.”
“What is that?”
“Being with a famous American, and all who will surround him, you will, in a fashion, be reacquainting yourself with the land of your birth.”
“In a sense, yes.”
Fletcher turned his pipe upside down and tapped it against the large ashtray that sat on a table next to him. “That kind of thing can create the strong pull of nostalgia. Promise me that you will not, when the rebellion ends, decamp to America and take my only living child with you, along with my first-to-be-born grandchild.”
“You are serious, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Mr. Hobhouse, I am.”
“I promise you I will do no such thing.”
“Good. Well, then, what is your next step?”
“I must visit the client and see both if he wants me and if I want him.”
* * *
Gaining permission to visit Washington in the Tower took some effort. Despite Abbott having written him a letter of explanation and introduction, Hobhouse still needed to secure permission from the First Minister’s office, which proved no small task. Finally, though, on the morning of the third day after he had first met with Abbott, Hobhouse finally had what he needed and approached the guard at the Tower’s portcullis gate. The man seemed already well aware of who he was. He glanced quickly through the papers Hobhouse had brought with him and then led the way. “I see you have come to see our most famous guest,” he said, as they walked along.
“Yes,” Hobhouse replied. “Is he doing well?”
“Oh, yes, and he’s quite friendly, too. When I was off-duty I dropped by his room to chat. I have a nephew in Virginia, you see, and I thought there was always the chance His Excellency might have made his acquaintance.”
“Had he?”
“No, but he promised to look him up when he returns.”
The Trial and Execution of the Traitor George Washington Page 18
