The Trial and Execution of the Traitor George Washington

by Charles Rosenberg

  “I notice that you call him Excellency. Does everyone?”

  “Most do. After all, we call all others who visit here by their titles. Lord this and that. Lady so-and-so.” The man grinned. “Baron Humbug, and so forth.”

  “Is there really a Baron Humbug?”

  “No, of course not. But the way some of these people put on airs, there might as well be.”

  “Has His Excellency had other visitors?”

  “Yes. Quite a few Americans live in London or nearby, you see, and several have come by to look in on him, all of them bringing food and drink, which he has been kind enough to share with the guards on occasion. And some retired British generals have been by.”

  “A remarkable man, it would appear.”

  “Indeed. And here we are.” They stopped in front of a room with a wooden door, which stood open. “I will leave you here and trust you can find your own way back out.”

  “Thank you. May I enquire of your name?”

  “Certainly. I am Robert Denam.”

  “Very pleased to meet you, Mr. Denam. Thank you for escorting me.”

  “My pleasure, sir.”

  Washington had been sitting at a small desk, quill pen in hand, writing something on a sheet of paper. When he saw Hobhouse and Denam appear, he got up, came over to the door, nodded at Denam and said, looking directly at Hobhouse, “And who might you be, sir?”

  “I’m Abraham Hobhouse. Mr. Abbott suggested I call upon you.”

  “Ah, yes. I have been expecting you, Mr. Hobhouse. I am General Washington.” He extended his hand and they shook. “Welcome to my small world. Please have a seat.” He gestured at a small chair, one of a pair that had their backs to the window.

  Hobhouse sat down in one; Washington took the other.

  “As you probably know, Your Excellency, I am a barrister.”

  “Yes, Mr. Abbott came by and explained who you are and to expect you. He also acquainted me with your reputation and that of the chambers in which you practise.”

  “Then you know that, assuming you approve, I have been hired to represent you in the event you are a defendant in a criminal trial.”

  He laughed. “Mr. Hobhouse, I am almost certain to be a defendant in such a trial. The Solicitor General himself has come by to question me, as have two of his assistants in succeeding days. They would not have been here but for their desire to burden me criminally.”

  “What did you tell them?”

  “Nothing.”

  “What did they want to know?”

  “They wanted to know about my activities in supporting the Revolution.”

  “I am perhaps surprised you refused to speak to them. Mr. Abbott suggested to me that you wish to shout your Revolutionary views from the rooftops.”

  “I do. As a young man, I was somewhat of a hothead and would doubtless have done so. In the fullness of time, I have learned that there is a time and place for everything. The time to shout my views about the way in which your king and your Parliament have abridged our liberties will be in a courtroom, before a jury. I will have a jury, will I not?”

  “Yes, although the judges have many powers to control their courtrooms. And your opportunity to give a speech may turn out to be very limited.”

  “You sound like most lawyers I know,” Washington said. “Careful to be precise.”

  “I do try. But now I’d like to go over the evidence they might present against you for high treason, which is defined as, amongst other things, waging war against the King.” He gestured at the walls. “But I understand from Mr. Abbott that there are prisoners on each side of you who might want to listen in. Perhaps it would be best if we walked upon the parade.”

  “Those prisoners have been moved for some reason. So far as I know, there are no prisoners in the adjoining cells, and there is rarely anyone nearby in the hall. We are free to talk. Before we do, though, I am thirsty for coffee. Would you like some?”

  “I am astonished that as a so-called guest here you can call for coffee.”

  “Being cordial with people can work wonders, Mr. Hobhouse.” He went to the doorway of the cell, leaned out and looked down the hallway to the right. “Mrs. Crankshaw!” he said, raising his voice. “Could you please bring us a pot of coffee and two cups?” He paused, clearly listening for a response. “Thank you.” He returned to his chair and sat back down.

  “While we wait for the coffee, let us review the evidence against you,” Hobhouse said.

  “For waging war? It is plentiful. I have been leading the army chartered by the Continental Congress for almost five years. We have fought against soldiers wearing the King’s Arms and killed them. We have taken property carrying the King’s seal and made it ours. We have seized the King’s soldiers who spied on us behind our lines, convicted them in our courts and hanged them.”

  “Like Major Andre.”

  “Yes, hanging him was a pity. But it had to be done.”

  “Is it likely that anyone alive today in England personally saw you doing all those things?”

  Washington thought for a moment. “Possibly, although I can’t immediately think of anyone. Perhaps British officers who have returned who personally laid eyes on me.”

  “There you have it. Unless they find such officers, we may be able to challenge their evidence as being second-hand.”

  “There might be recruiting posters put out in my name.”

  “Signed personally by you, in the printer’s plate from which they were made?”

  “Of course not.”

  “That you did not sign the originals might be at least a small help.”

  “Perhaps so. But, Mr. Hobhouse, I have also signed many hundreds of military orders, directing my officers to attack various British units.”

  “Are any American officers who received those orders now prisoners of the King?”

  “Yes, but so far as I know, most are not held here in England. They are for the most part held in America.”

  “There is that, then. Even if the British have those orders and they might not—they may have difficulty getting them received in evidence without some way to prove that the signatures are actually yours or that you authorized your signature to be put there. Your officers will likely not testify against you. And who knows who may have put your supposed signature on the orders?”

  Washington got up and went to lean against the wall. “You will forgive me, but these old bones sometimes have difficulty sitting for long periods.”

  “I understand, Excellency.”

  “I hope you also will forgive me for saying that these lawyerly arguments you wish to make seem quite thin to me.”

  “They are what we have.”

  “Well, Mr. Hobhouse, unfortunately, you have not covered every possibility of evidence here in England that might be used against me. For example, there are also any number of British officers now residing here who opposed me in America. General Howe amongst others.”

  “Did he personally see you take ups arms against His Majesty?”

  He thought for a moment. “Perhaps not, although I am not certain of that. But I did correspond with him on numerous occasions about matters in the war.” He smiled. “And it was quite clear whose side I was on and under whose authority I was acting.”

  “Which you would put how?”

  “Under the authority of the Continental Congress, which the British government refers to as an unlawful rebel assembly.”

  “I will give thought to how we might deal with that.”

  “Mr. Hobhouse, you are seeking to build a case out of straw. I did take up arms against the King. Every day.”

  “Your Excellency, forgive me, but you perhaps do not understand a barrister’s craft. If the jury is friendly, an acquittal can be woven out of the thinnest straw.”

  They spent the next h
our or more discussing other evidence the Solicitor’s Office might bring forward, with Hobhouse explaining how each piece might be challenged or belittled. Not long after they got started, a woman whom Hobhouse assumed to be Mrs. Crankshaw arrived carrying, in one hand, an elegant, rococo silver coffee pot and, in the other, two rather dainty china cups on a tray.

  Hobhouse immediately recognized the rounded coffee pot as one in the epouseé style favoured by the prominent London silversmith Charles Wright. A similar one had been given to him and Abigail as a wedding gift by Lord Dandridge.

  “That’s a beautiful coffee pot,” he said. “I am surprised they would provide you with such a lovely piece to use here, let alone serve you coffee instead of tea.”

  “Oh, it is mine,” Washington said. “From amongst the gifts with which I have been inundated. Quite a few British officers I served with during the French and Indian War are retired here in London, and several have come by to see me. They all brought gifts.”

  “So the coffee pot is a gift from one of them?”

  “No. Americans from a neighbouring plantation, Lord and Lady Fairfax, brought it. They moved to England several years before the Revolution began in earnest and have regrettably not returned to America. They live in Bath now, but happened to be in London. They are close friends.”

  “Are they Loyalists?”

  “We carefully avoided discussing their political views.”

  “I see.”

  “Mr. Hobhouse, putting the no doubt interesting subject of silver coffee pots aside, I am inclined to retain you as my barrister. If you wish to be retained, that is.”

  “I do. But you have said you are inclined. Is there something else needed before you decide for certain?”

  “Yes. I need to know about your own attitudes about the Revolution.”

  Hobhouse had concluded in the course of the conversation that he very much wanted the case. Not only because it would be perhaps the greatest case of the age, but because he was impressed with Washington. But he needed to answer Washington’s question directly.

  “Excellency, I am a Whig, and Whigs generally despise the government’s pursuit of military force in America. But I am nevertheless of two minds about the rebellion because I can see both sides of the argument. I can recite those for you if you wish.”

  “No need. I might have been troubled had you said you were wholeheartedly for it, because it would have seemed false given your long-time residence here with, apparently, no intention to return to Pennsylvania.”

  “In truth, I feel very much an Englishman. I intend to remain. But on the other hand, when I hear people here disparage America as a place filled with uncouth, uneducated barbarians, it makes my blood boil.”

  Washington smiled. “I can understand the conflict within you. Twenty years ago, I would have said that I was an Englishman. Indeed, both my brothers were educated here. I missed out on that only because my father died, and we could not afford it.”

  “I had no idea.”

  “There is more. I once avidly desired to be appointed an officer in the British Army. It didn’t happen primarily because my patron, General Braddock, died before it could be accomplished.”

  “Will you retain me, then, Your Excellency?”

  “I will. I want, however, to give you my instructions and be sure they are agreeable to you.”

  “What are they, sir?”

  “You may pick at, belittle, question or otherwise attack the government’s evidence of my supposed guilt, as well as its witnesses, but only so as to argue that the government has not proved my guilt or that they have not met the standards of the treason statute, whatever they are.”

  “I am agreeable to that.” He took a sip of his coffee. “I sense there is something else, though.”

  “Yes. You may not apologize, say, suggest or hint that I am sorry for my actions, or suggest in any way that the colonies should not be free and fully independent states, or that I desire any compromise. It is either full independence or fight them in the swamps and forests for however long as it might take.”

  “I will strictly adhere to your position on this, Excellency.”

  Washington took another sip of coffee and said, “Now let me ask you something that Mr. Abbott seemed unwilling to address in detail. People have told me several times that I may suffer a traitor’s death. I believe I know what that involves, but I am not certain. Please tell me exactly what that means.”

  Hobhouse swallowed hard, then said, “The mandatory sentence for high treason is to be drawn to the gallows standing in an open cart, hanged, cut down before you are dead, disembowelled, your head cut off and then your body either quartered, with the parts distributed as the King might wish, or dissected in public.”

  He looked at Washington to see if he gulped. He didn’t, but said only, “And they call this a civilized nation.”

  “There is more, Excellency. When they beheaded the leader of the Jacobite rebellion, back in the ’40s, they put their heads on pikes at Temple Bar. Two of them were still there as recently as ten or fifteen years ago.”

  “If it will secure the independence of my country, they may put my head where they please.”

  He hardly knew what to say in response, so said only, “Are there other instructions?”

  “No, but I do have another question. Is the condemned man entitled to make a speech as he stands on the gallows?”

  “I believe so.”

  “Good, because if I am to be executed, there will likely be a large throng, and people from all the newspapers in England there.”

  “And America, too, no doubt.”

  “It will be an excellent opportunity to make the case for my country to the people of England, and remind them that our cause for liberty and freedom is also theirs.”

  “I will do my utmost to prevent your having the opportunity to make that speech, Excellency.”

  “Thank you. There is one thing, though, that we have avoided discussing.”

  “Which is?”

  “What Colonel Abbott is doing. If I understand correctly, he is going to attempt to negotiate a settlement of the Revolution, in some fashion that will provide the King with a better outcome than he will get on the battlefield.”

  “Mr. Abbott came to hire our chambers for your defence, in what he anticipates will be a treason trial. But he did not share with me even one bit what his instructions are with regard to any negotiations with which he’s been entrusted.”

  “I see. Well, know this. Congress is a lawful body, and it may do what it will to resolve or not resolve the issues that gave rise to our Revolution. But you are not to suggest to anyone, English, American, French or Spanish, that I give one whit about what happens to me personally. Nor will I, as I told Colonel Abbott, be a willing chip in a bargain.”

  “What is the practical import of that for me, as your lawyer?”

  “It is simple. If, for example, there is a treason trial, and someone should say to you that if this or that condition be met by my country, I will be released or treated more leniently, you are to reject any such bargain.”

  “Is that really realistic, Excellency? From what I have read, the people of the colonies look to you for leadership, and not just military. Really, who else is there? I suspect they fear that without you, all will be lost, and that they might well wish to make such a bargain.”

  “There may be those who think that, but it is not true. Some equally talented—or more talented—man will arise from amongst our great people to lead us on to victory.”

  “I do not suppose the men who sent Mr. Abbott to try to resolve these problems likely agree with that. Indeed, Abbott has told me that your leadership will be even more sorely needed when the war is ended.”

  “The people who desire that of me will end disappointed. If I don’t die here, I intend at war’s end to return to my
wife and family at Mount Vernon and live out my life there as a simple farmer.”

  “I can understand that.”

  “This reminds me, Mr. Hobhouse. I have penned a letter to my wife. I wonder if you would be so kind as to see it delivered. She has no sure way of knowing if I am dead or alive. I do not quite trust the authorities here to make certain it is dispatched.”

  “Whether they see to its delivery or not, they will certainly read it.”

  “They may if they wish. I have said nothing in it that is secret or scandalous.” He went to the small desk, opened a drawer, removed an envelope sealed with red wax and handed it to Hobhouse.

  “They have provided you with all the writing paper and other implements you need, I see.”

  “Yes. And it is quite odd,” Washington said. “Because I have asked several times to see President Henry Laurens, who is also imprisoned here under suspicion of treason, although I do not think he has been indicted. But I have been denied permission to see him.”

  “Of what is he the president?” Hobhouse asked.

  “Of the Continental Congress, a post he stepped down from and was then appointed a diplomat charged with negotiating support from the Dutch. On his return from his mission to Holland he was captured by the British on the high seas and brought here.”

  “Is he treated well?”

  “No. A guard explained to me that the poor man, who is in ill health, is being held in close quarters, and able to see only a few visitors. Even his own son was granted only a half hour. He has even been denied pen and ink for writing. He must use a pencil instead.”

  “How long has he been here?”

  “I am not sure, Mr. Hobhouse, because I don’t know when, exactly, he was captured or when, exactly, he was brought to London. At least many months, I would say. But I do not understand why I may write with pen and ink, and he may not.” He motioned at his writing table, on which sat a quill and inkpot.

  “General, they no doubt wish you to write as much as you would like. And to whomever you wish.”

  “Why?”

  “So that they will have samples of your writing and your signature to show a jury to compare with whatever supposed treasonous orders they may get their hands on.”