North had given careful thought about how to approach a negotiation with Abbott, a man unknown to anyone in the government and, so far as he could determine, a man with no diplomatic experience. It would have been so much easier to deal with Dr. Franklin, even though he could be underhanded and difficult, while capable at the same time of charming the fur off a rat.
He had decided to make Abbott feel at ease and important while simultaneously making it clear that Washington’s life was at grave risk if an agreement wasn’t reached quickly. He knew his enemies might call his strategy manipulative and cynical, and perhaps they were right when they argued those qualities were his stock-in-trade. But he judged his approach had served both his King and the Empire very well indeed.
The library, a small room on the second floor, was the perfect place to begin the wooing of Abbott. North had created the room and caused it to mimic the inner sanctum of a posh London men’s club like White’s—glass-fronted bookshelves, deep leather chairs, side tables in rich, carved woods, with large glass ashtrays for those who might wish to indulge in a cigar. A small marble bar filled one corner. Only gaming tables had been omitted.
North waited a bit before entering, to be sure Abbott understood who was waiting for whom. When he finally strolled in, Abbott was seated in one of the big chairs, a glass of sherry already in hand. The man wore an elegant black velvet waistcoat, topped by a maroon coat of wool with silver buttons and, below, leather breeches. A cocked hat, presumably the one he had bought in Southwark, lay on a table. A silver-headed, ebony cane was leaning against his chair.
On seeing him, Abbott put down his glass, stood up and said, “Good afternoon, your Lordship. It is indeed a pleasure—and an honour—to make your acquaintance.” He bowed slightly.
What struck North was how large the man was. He had been prepared, from Hartleb’s account, to meet someone tall, but not someone who looked as if he could break your neck with his bare hands.
“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ambassador. My thanks for coming on such short notice, and when night is almost upon us.” Abbott was not, of course, an ambassador from anywhere. He was the representative of a great treason, but why not use his rebel title if it would flatter him?
“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 long 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.”