The Trial and Execution of the Traitor George Washington

by Charles Rosenberg

  “It was no trouble coming at this hour, my Lord. My lodgings are in any case not far.”

  “You are comfortable there, I hope?”

  “Yes, quite.”

  “I’m sorry you felt you needed to leave the guest house. We thought to provide you every service you needed. Was something amiss there?”

  “No, no, nothing like that. I am just more comfortable in an environment with a family.”

  “I see.”

  North walked over to the window and said, “Come join me here, Ambassador.” The invitation was another part of his technique. He had learned over the years that men of great power could flatter those without it by inviting shared intimacies, especially of physical space.

  Abbott came over and stood beside him.

  “I like standing here sometimes,” North said. “Looking out into the street. You see real life down there—pedestrians walking, people passing by in carriages, vendors selling food.” He sighed. “So real compared to life in here at 10 Downing, surrounded by dozens of ministers and subministers, and more dozens of assistants who toil for them.”

  “Do you also live here?” Abbott asked.

  “Yes. Unlike many of my predecessors, I have chosen to live here with my family. The benefit is a very short walk to the office, and that I can sometimes put my work aside and see my children, although as they get older, less and less.”

  The truth was, of course, that he sometimes worked late just to avoid seeing his older children, who told him at every opportunity that his handling of the American war was appalling and that he should just grant the colonies their independence and be done with it.

  “Speaking of work, Ambassador, let’s not beat about the bush. I want to make a proposal to you.”

  “Directness is an approach I like, my Lord. It has always served me well.”

  “Good. This war is costing both the colonies—your country, if you prefer to call it that—and mine—thousands of dead and wounded and treasure almost beyond measure. Would you agree?”

  “Certainly.”

  “Thus the war needs to end.”

  “At some point I hope it will, my Lord.”

  “Well, to bring its end about sooner rather than later, I have a proposal for you.”

  “I long to hear it.”

  “It is this. Parliament will revoke each and every law that affects you, including all taxes, and will withdraw all troops from the colonies except those you request. All trade rules will remain as they were before or more favourable, to be negotiated.”

  “In exchange for what?”

  “Only in exchange for formally recognizing the continued theoretical sovereignty of Parliament.”

  “A kind of empty sovereignty that will just lie there on the shelf, unused?”

  “Something of that nature. You might still need to show our sovereign on your money and official stamps and the like. But who would object to that?”

  “Many, now that so much blood has been shed.”

  “On both sides, I would remind you.”

  “That is so, including some of mine. But let me ask you this, my Lord. Would you withdraw even those laws that purport to prevent us from settling west of the Appalachians?”

  “Show me on the map exactly what you refer to,” North said and led Abbott over to a large map of North America that hung, framed, on the opposite wall.

  Abbott pointed to the Appalachians and ran his finger down the map, from the Province of Massachusetts to the Royal Colony of Georgia. “Settlement to the west of this entire chain of mountains to the Mississippi River is what we desire,” he said. “British law currently prohibits it.”

  “With no limit on your settlement?”

  “Obviously, some of the land beyond the river is French, so that would be a natural limit.”

  “You would otherwise not care that you would be invading Indian lands currently protected by solemn agreements?”

  “Candidly, my Lord, no.”

  “Withdrawing that law could be a bit more contentious, only because it affects our relationship with the French power. But that could be done, too, I’m sure.” He sighed, intending that his sigh be heard.

  “Without that assurance, we could never reach agreement.”

  North continued to stare at the map. “You know, Ambassador, I have dealt for many years with the affairs of the rebellious colonies, even though I have never set foot in any of them. Nor has any senior member of my cabinet.”

  “No one?”

  “Not one. Which is perhaps in part why we so misjudged the ferocity of your rebellion. I suppose at this point, I never will get there.”

  “Well, my Lord, if this war can soon be terminated by our joint efforts, I will invite you to visit Philadelphia as my personal guest.”

  “Does that mean you are inclined to accept, in principle, my outline of a settlement?”

  “No. For one thing, it sounds very similar to the proposal your so-called peace commissioners, led by Lord Carlisle, presented when they came to Philadelphia two years ago, back in ’78. A proposal the Congress roundly rejected.”

  “There are two large differences.”

  “Which are what, my Lord?”

  “First, I am making the proposal as First Minister, not young Lord Carlisle, who had limited authority to bargain. Second, we now have your General Washington in hand, and I assume your Congress and your country would like to have him back.” He hoped that was true. Washington, he knew, had enemies, and there was always a risk they would manoeuvre to reject any settlement so as to not get him back.

  “I suppose those are differences,” Abbott said. “But I doubt very many delegates to the Congress will want to give up our claim to total independence. There are too many bodies buried far from home for that. They will have died in vain.”

  “Let’s sit back down, Ambassador,” North said. “It sounds as if we may be here awhile.”

  After they had moved back to the chairs, and a servant, without being asked, had refilled Abbott’s glass and handed a full one to North, North said, “General Washington—I will afford him your preferred title in our private conversations—is unfortunately the major impediment to any deal we may reach, even if we somehow find a solution to the problem of independence.”

  “Why?”

  “Because his position is, apparently, that he will take no part in any negotiation that results in anything less than your full independence. Without regard to whether he is threatened with execution. If he openly opposes any accord, your Congress will not confirm it.”

  “You are no doubt correct, my Lord. But without saying one way or another whether I think those might be his actual thoughts, what leads you to believe they are?”

  “He was overheard to say them.”

  “His Excellency was spied on?”

  North raised his eyebrows. “Ambassador, I assume your shock is feigned. When a man, while imprisoned, speaks of such sensitive matters next to a wide-open cell door, unless that man is a fool, he expects to be overheard. Perhaps even intends to be overheard. Do you think General Washington is a fool?”

  “No, of course not, but he took precautions when I was there—on two different occasions—to avoid being overheard. We talked only while we walked outside his cell.”

  “Well, he didn’t always take those precautions. Indeed, I believe it was an issue in this case of wanting to be spied on.”

  Just then, without knocking, Hartleb entered the room, walked over to North, bent down and whispered in his ear.

  “Please excuse me for a moment, Ambassador,” North said. “I must attend, very briefly, to an affair of state.” He stood up and, with Hartleb in tow, left the room.

  When he reached a reception area that led into the library, he made small talk with Hartleb for a few moments, then said, “I think that is l
ong enough,” and returned to the library. When he re-entered, he said to Abbott, “I have received a most unfortunate letter from the King. He has heard that Washington is having, to use his words, ‘too fine a time’ in the Tower, and wants him moved to one of the prison hulks in the Thames.” It had not been exactly a lie because there had indeed been such a letter from the King, received the day before.

  “And will you move him, my Lord?”

  “Not right away, if I can avoid it. But it may depend on whether I can tell the King you and I are making progress.”

  “I would like for us to make progress, obviously. I have, however, no authority to agree to give up my country’s demand for complete independence, with or without General Washington’s encouragement. But perhaps in the fullness of time, these things might somehow be worked out, although I don’t know how. Perhaps other members of my delegation will have some thoughts on the matter when they arrive.”

  “Unfortunately, Ambassador, we may not have a great deal of time.” North picked up a small gold bell that had been sitting on the table next to him and rang it. A servant appeared almost instantly. “Mr. Townsend, please bring me the piece of paper that I left sitting in the middle of my desk.”

  “Yes, my Lord.”

  39

  A few minutes later, Townsend returned and handed North a piece of paper.

  North took it from him and said, “The Solicitor General informs me that the evidence of General Washington’s guilt is so overwhelming that he has already completed his investigation and drawn up the draft of a formal treason indictment. Here, I will read it to you.” He placed a pair of spectacles on his nose, held the paper out in front of him and read aloud:

  “‘George Washington, of His Majesty’s colony of Virginia, being the subject of our said sovereign Lord George III, by the grace of God of Great Britain, France and Ireland, King, defender of the faith, etc., and George Washington, not having fear of God before his eyes, nor weighing the duty of his allegiance, was moved and seduced by the instigation of the devil, on 3 July in the 15th year of the reign of our said sovereign Lord the King, in the city of Cambridge in the County of Middlesex, in the year of our Lord 1775, in the Province of Massachusetts Bay, and on that day did George Washington unlawfully, maliciously and treacherously compass, imagine and intend to traitorously raise and levy war, insurrection and rebellion against our said Lord the King within the King’s colony, with force and arms.’

  “It goes on at some length if you’d like me to read more.”

  “No need right now,” Abbott said. “The devil, really?” He laughed.

  “It is just the way these things are written,” North said.

  “And the date? They would focus the indictment on the day General Washington took command of the Continental Army?”

  “Apparently. As you might imagine, that date is not burned into my memory as it seems it is into yours.”

  “My Lord, the Solicitor General, if I understand properly, is subordinate to you, and in any case, before an indictment can issue, General Washington would first need to be examined by the King’s Privy Council. Why can you not simply instruct the Solicitor to hold up on the examination?”

  North was taken aback. He had expected Abbott to be ignorant of the niceties of English law. Apparently he was not.

  “The Privy Council can be skipped if the evidence is overwhelming,” North said. “As for the Solicitor, he imagines himself independent. I could nevertheless instruct him but for the second problem.”

  “Which is?”

  “The King. Unfortunately, General Washington’s statement suggesting he wants to make a grand speech on the gallows has reached the King’s ears. The General was, ahem, overheard. The King’s reaction upon hearing it was, crass as it may seem to you, ‘Let us begin to lay out the small cakes for the crowds who will come.’”

  “And yet, you, as the First Minister, must still consent to the handing down of an indictment.”

  “I will almost certainly be able to delay it. But only for so long. I serve at the pleasure of the King, so I cannot do so forever. If I delay for too much time, His Majesty can try to dismiss me and replace me with someone more bloodthirsty than I, who will agree to bring your general to trial quickly. One of the main powers remaining to the King in our system is to choose the First Minister, although only from amongst those who can receive majority support in the Parliament.”

  “Would the King really seek to replace you over that issue?”

  “Yes. And in the hothouse of our current politics, there are some in Parliament who would wish to take my place and do the King’s bidding, and perhaps be able to bring the support of enough members to form a government.”

  “Why does the King find himself so intent on this?”

  “It has in part to do with what was written about him in your unfortunately worded Declaration of Independence. It calls him a tyrant. He thinks of himself as an enlightened monarch with limited powers. It would be so much better if the document had stopped before it got to the part about despotism instead of filling it with so much blather long after it made its initial point about natural rights.”

  “Washington did not write any of that, nor even sign it.”

  “I know he didn’t write it. Even the King knows that. But Washington has waged a bloody war to make independence happen. A war in which thousands of British soldiers have already died, and on which we are spending tens of millions of pounds a year.”

  “And what is to be done about that, Lord North?”

  “In the King’s view, what can be done is to provide Washington a traitor’s death.”

  “I see.”

  “So, Mr. Ambassador, I will do what I can. But I trust you will now understand our mutual problem. If Washington’s mind cannot be changed, there is little point in a negotiation. It will come to naught.”

  “There must be a mutually agreeable solution to be found,” Abbott said.

  “There might be, if Washington can be persuaded to take at least a neutral position in any negotiation.” He picked up the small bell and rang it. Again. Townsend reappeared within seconds.

  “Mr. Townsend, please bring in the other gentleman, who has been waiting so patiently.”

  “Yes, my Lord.”

  A few moments later, Abraham Hobhouse entered the room.

  After an exchange of the customary greetings, Hobhouse said, “Excellency, I believe we have met once before, at the dinner to honour the recently retired Solicitor General.”

  “Yes,” North said, “I do recall that. Please do have a seat, Mr. Hobhouse. Might I offer you something to drink?”

  “No, thank you. Not for the moment. I am most curious to learn why you’ve summoned me.” He glanced over at Abbott. “And even more curious as to why I’m here with His Excellency, Ambassador Abbott.”

  “It’s about your new client, Mr. George Washington. Or at least I assume from the visitor list at the Tower that he’s now your client.”

  “I can certainly confirm that I now represent His Excellency, General Washington,” Hobhouse said. “But I’m still not certain why I’m here.”

  “I will get directly to the point, sir,” North said. “Although we are at a very early point in our discussions, I think that Mr. Abbott and I might well be able to reach an agreement that would end the rebellion on terms agreeable to both sides.” He looked over at Abbott, waiting to see if he would disagree, but Abbott said nothing.

  “After more than five years of war, that would, I’m sure, be welcome news on both sides,” Hobhouse said. “But I’m still not sure...”

  “Why you are here.”

  “Precisely.”

  “It is because I believe that Washington would prefer to go to the gallows rather than support any agreement short of total independence, and that his open opposition to any other kind of deal would scutt
le it.”

  “On what basis, First Minister, do you believe General Washington would oppose any agreement?”

  “What he has said.”

  “To you, my Lord?”

  “No. To you, Mr. Hobhouse. You were overheard.”

  There was an uncomfortable silence in the room. Finally, Hobhouse said, “By Mrs. Crankshaw, the woman who served us coffee?”

  North was tempted to tell him exactly who had overheard what. Mrs. Crankshaw was not their only informant in the Tower. And then he would add that as a barrister he ought to be more careful about being overheard. But he thought better of it and said, simply, “Sir, I don’t concern myself with who does what at those low levels. I just know what I know.”

  “Well, First Minister, be that as it may, I am certainly not prepared to breach the trust my client has placed in me by disclosing his confidences.”

  “I don’t expect you to.”

  “What do you expect of me, then?”

  “To inform your client that Mr. Abbott and I are approaching an agreement, one that will save thousands of lives and hundreds of thousands of pounds on both sides by ending this war now. I am asking you to persuade him that it is his patriotic duty to support an agreement we reach or at least to remain silent about it.”

  “Patriotic as regards which country?”

  North hesitated for a moment. The question went to the heart of the sovereignty issue. “Both, if you must.”

  “And if he does?”

  “He will be free to return to America, whether a final agreement is ultimately signed or not.”

  “When?”

  “When an agreement in principle is initialled by me and Ambassador Abbott.”

  Hobhouse looked over at Abbott, who had said nothing. “Is this also your desire, Mr. Abbott? That I try to persuade the General?”

  Abbott shrugged. “I do not think we are quite so close to an agreement as the First Minister thinks. He and the King insist we first acknowledge the sovereignty of Parliament, even if it turns into an empty sovereignty, of which they agree to make no use. I have no authority to agree to that.”