Killing England Read online

  Sir William Howe, a British general newly arrived from England, will report this shocking news back to London: “When I look to the consequences of it, in the loss of so many brave officers, I do it with horror—the success is too dearly bought.”

  * * *

  All the fighting in Boston will take place tomorrow. Right now, the Continental Congress is deciding who will form and lead the American army. “Resolved,” the minutes of its June 15 meeting read, “that a general be appointed to command all continental forces raised or to be raised, for the defense of American liberty. That five hundred dollars a month be allowed for his pay and expenses.”4

  Though the salary is lavish, the obstacles to success are many. Enthusiasm for the fight is high throughout the colonies, but most potential soldiers prefer to remain close to home, serving with their local militia, taking orders from friends and relatives. The idea of fighting in a Continental Army, obeying the directives of strangers, and waging war hundreds of miles from their families is distasteful. It will be the role of the new general to convince those uneducated and unsophisticated men that accepting his commands is in their best interest.

  Then, of course, there is the harsh penalty for failure.

  If the new commander in chief can successfully raise, train, feed, clothe, and equip an army, he must still find a way to defeat the British regulars, widely considered the world’s greatest fighting force. Should he lose, this new general will not merely be placed in captivity as a prisoner of war, he will be treated as a traitor to the British Crown and hanged for high treason.

  This will not, however, be an ordinary hanging.

  High treason is considered the greatest capital crime a man can commit against the king of England. The punishment is extraordinary, ensuring a slow and hideous death. It will begin when the accused is tied to a horse and dragged to the gallows. He will then be hanged by the neck, but cut down before he dies so that he remains alive for what comes next, which is the slicing open of his abdomen and the burning of his intestines as they dangle outside his body. Only then will this general have his head cut off. His corpse will then be cut up into four parts, all of which will be delivered to the king. But the punishment will not end there. All lands and monies will be confiscated from this unlucky man’s estate. His wife and children will be forever forbidden from purchasing property or owning a business. And, of course, if the general’s wife should also be accused of treason for conspiring with her husband, she will be burned alive.

  Ben Franklin no longer has a wife, but as he looks around the cramped Assembly Room on this June morning, he is well aware that simply attending this seditious meeting to discuss waging war against the Crown is grounds for high treason. It is not just the new general who stands to stretch a rope, but every single delegate in the room. Simply traveling to Philadelphia to attend the Congress was an act of great courage, for a recent smallpox epidemic in the city killed three hundred men, women, and children.5 With no assurances that the outbreak has passed, the delegates entered the city to take part in the uncertain business of forging a nation.

  The problem facing these men now, even after war has broken out, is that Georgia, not yet believing fully in the cause of independence, has refused to send a delegate to this convention. In other words, the thirteen colonies are still unwilling to stand together as one to fight for their common future.

  It is Franklin who will sound the ominous reminder of their fate if this does not change: “We must, indeed, all hang together—or most assuredly we will all hang separately.”

  * * *

  Despite the long odds against defeating England, a number of men have stepped forward to apply for the generalship. Candidates include the slovenly British-born lieutenant colonel Charles Lee, a man with a temper so fierce that during the French and Indian War, the Iroquois nicknamed him Ounewaterika, “Boiling Water.” Lee is missing two fingers, thanks to a dueling accident, and has a passion for prostitutes that will one day be his undoing.

  Another candidate is Artemas Ward, a fiery, heavyset forty-seven-year-old Bostonian who is presently commanding the forces at Bunker Hill. Ward, who suffers frequent bouts of ill health, enjoys a reputation as a military leader so illustrious that Massachusetts has appointed him commander in chief of “the Grand American Army,” as the collection of local militias has been nicknamed by the press.

  However, the most popular choice is the genteel John Hancock. Despite a lack of military experience, the Massachusetts native feels that his service as president of this Congress entitles him to be appointed commander in chief. He is a man born to privilege, fond of expensive wine, dancing, and the pursuit of life’s many pleasures. Rather than simply travel on horseback, for instance, Hancock drives a carriage pulled by six matching bay-colored horses. His mode of dress is shocking in its garishness: “He wore a coat of scarlet, lined with silk, and … a white satin embroidered waist coat, dark satin small clothes, white silk stockings, and shoes with silver buckles,” one observer wrote.

  John Hancock presumed he would be given the title of commander in chief as thanks for his serving as president of this Congress. In fact, he presumes many things, thinking himself worthy of almost every great honor. Ironically, Hancock is not in favor of colonial independence. He is a hardened Anglophile who spent four years in London learning to run the House of Hancock, the family business that revolves around the sale of British goods to the colonies—in particular, whale oil. His loyalty to the British throne led him to attend the London funeral of King George II in November 1760, and then remain in England for the coronation of the current monarch, George III, ten months later.

  In truth, Hancock has more to lose than almost any other man in this room. His livelihood depends on the freedom of the high seas, allowing his ships to smuggle Dutch tea and French molasses into the colonies. The outbreak of war will see an end to that. John Hancock will never be a pauper, but he will also never see the heights of wealth he knew before the disruption in trade caused by the war with Great Britain.

  There are, in fact, three deeply divided factions within the Second Continental Congress, all with separate ideas about America’s future. The more conservative group longs for a return to traditional ties with England. The most radical group, led by John Adams, argues for complete independence—although they rarely discuss this in public, for the notion is so outlandish as to border on heretical. The most popular faction, of which Hancock is a member, wants to maintain ties with England but considers the British Parliament corrupt and duplicitous, and believes it has no authority in the colonies. These men want America to report directly to George III, whom they see as their ally and dear friend. Hancock believes a strong military statement might achieve that end.

  Because Hancock is not totally in favor of separation, delegate John Adams of Massachusetts is uncomfortable with him forming a Continental Army and leading it into battle. He is also of the belief that the support of the southern colonies is vital to defeating the British. Rather than select Ward or Hancock, both of whom hail from Adams’s home state, Adams has persuaded his cousin, the fiery Samuel Adams, to help him nominate George Washington as the man to lead the Continental Army. Washington is known for his military bearing and rational behavior. The fact that he hails from Virginia will definitely bring about a tighter colonial alliance.

  Thus, two days ago, John Adams stood to address the delegates. He and Hancock have known each other since childhood, and it was Hancock’s father who baptized the newborn John Adams in 1735. As a beaming Hancock looked on, believing his friend was about to nominate him, the loquacious Adams opened his remarks by speaking of the “state of the Colonies” and “the need to appoint a general.”

  Then Adams shocked the room, stating that “a gentleman from Virginia” should lead the new army.

  Suddenly, John Hancock’s demeanor changed.

  “I never remarked a sudden or more striking change of countenance,” John Adams would later write about Hancock. “Mortif
ication and resentment were expressed as forcibly as his face could exhibit them.”

  As the room exploded into debate, George Washington immediately left so he would be out of earshot as the delegates discussed the matter.

  The following day, another motion was made to name the forty-three-year-old Washington commander in chief. A newcomer to the Continental Congress, Thomas Jefferson, seconded the motion.6

  In a letter to his wife, Martha, Washington will declare that he never lobbied for the job, stating that “far from seeking this appointment, I have used every endeavor in my power to avoid it.”

  That is not true. Franklin and the other fifty-five delegates have been quite aware of Washington’s burning desire to lead the rebel army, primarily out of boredom. Washington needs action. His ambition is impossible to ignore. Nowhere has this been more in evidence than in his choice of clothing. Every day since arriving in Philadelphia one month ago, the forty-three-year-old Virginian has dressed in a blue military uniform quite similar in design to his battle dress at Braddock’s Defeat. No other delegate dresses in this manner. And although that battle took place twenty years ago next month, the uniform is a reminder to everyone that Washington is a seasoned warrior. It was he who oversaw Braddock’s burial those many years ago, and then ordered the remaining British soldiers to trample back and forth over the dirt to hide the grave from the French and Indians, lest they exhume the body.

  Washington has done well for himself militarily since Braddock’s Defeat, returning to the Ohio River Valley as part of another British force in 1758, this time winning the battle and wresting territory from the French.

  He has also climbed the social ladder. Also in 1758, he rekindled his love for a wealthy, dark-eyed, British-born member of Virginia society, the beautiful twenty-eight-year-old Sally Fairfax. Washington’s passion for the fairer sex is well known, with his friends even giving him the nickname “the stallion of the Potomac.” However, his status as a planter and surveyor saw him rebuffed by two wealthy young women in his early twenties. In the case of Sally Fairfax, the affection was mutual, yet the affair was doomed from the start, for Washington was not wealthy enough at the time to be a suitable match—more important, Sally was already married, to one of his good friends.7

  Instead, Washington took the widowed Martha Dandridge Custis for his bride in 1759. The marriage elevated Washington into the highest levels of colonial society. This was no accident. Washington was so keen to woo the rich young widow that he took a break from his military career in March 1758 to pay a visit to her home, just eight short months after the death of her husband. Martha was smitten by the tall man who arrived at her house that day with his reddish-brown hair carefully powdered. Nine days after their first meeting, he proposed. Soon after, Martha ordered a wedding dress from a shop in London. The dress itself was modest, as a reminder that she had just ended a time of mourning. She also purchased purple slippers for the occasion, as a symbol of the new joy she had found with the gallant Washington.

  One foot shorter and eight months older than her second husband, the plump and pretty Martha is known for her charm and iron will. Her home is called White House, a Virginia tobacco plantation of 17,500 acres holding more than three hundred slaves. But George and Martha choose to live at a smaller estate, one passed to Washington upon the death of his half brother, Lawrence. Mount Vernon, as it is known, is a 6,500-acre parcel of land that requires more than one hundred slaves to function smoothly.8 The combined population of all thirteen colonies is 2.5 million, of which 500,000 are slaves—one in five people. At the time of the Second Continental Congress, George Washington owns 135 men, women, and children; his wife’s slaves are her separate property.9

  The sixteen years of retirement from the military since the French and Indian War have been a time of prosperity for Washington. He has become one of the wealthiest men in the colonies. The one great disappointment in his life is that he has not fathered any children. He refuses to admit that he is the problem, blaming it instead on Martha. But the truth is that Washington is likely sterile due to his teenage bout of smallpox.10

  Back in Philadelphia, Washington is a man in need of a challenge. Wealth and power are not enough. He is a man of action. He remembers the lessons in drill and tactics he learned during his time with the British Army. He knows where to place troops on the battlefield and how to exploit an enemy’s weaknesses. This belief in himself gives Washington an inner strength that is evident to the delegates. “He seems discreet and virtuous,” notes Connecticut lawyer Eliphalet Dyer, “no harum scarum ranting swearing fellow, but sober, steady and calm.”

  John Adams, a man known for his dour outlook, is also taken with Washington’s disposition. “Something charming to me in the conduct of Washington. A gentleman of one of the first fortunes on the continent, leaving his delicious retirement, his family and friends, sacrificing his ease, and hazarding all in the cause of his country!”

  So, just as George Washington once rode through the night to gain assistance for General Braddock’s defeated army, he has now made the decision to put his life on the line fighting the British.

  The vote has been counted.

  The choice is unanimous.

  Washington will have his chance to defeat England on the battlefield. “As the Congress desire it, I will enter upon the momentous duty, and exert every power I possess in their service, and for support of the glorious cause,” he tells the assembled delegates as he accepts his command.

  Then, in a move that the frugal Ben Franklin admires tremendously, the wealthy and powerful Washington says he will do it all for free.

  “As to pay, Sir,” Washington continues, “I beg leave to assure the Congress, that, as no pecuniary consideration could have tempted me to have accepted this arduous employment, at the expense of my domestic ease and happiness, I do not wish to make any profit from it.”

  General Washington leaves for Boston in the morning.

  Three weeks later, on July 8, the Georgians finally decide to send delegates to Philadelphia and formally ally themselves with those fighting the war against England.

  2

  LONDON, ENGLAND

  OCTOBER 26, 1775

  11:15 A.M.

  King George III has had enough.

  From within the plush confines of his golden royal carriage, the tall and youthful thirty-seven-year-old monarch rehearses the speech he will give from a throne in the House of Lords in one hour’s time. The opening of Parliament, over which he will preside this morning, normally takes place later in the year. But because of the situation in America, George III has ordered that the event be held earlier.

  The king will soon don royal robes of crimson velvet trimmed in the soft white winter fur of a stoat.1 A gray ceremonial wig and a crown festooned with diamonds will adorn his blond hair. To the thousands of cheering loyal subjects witnessing his journey through the streets of London, their sovereign rides in apparent luxury, seated within the satin and velvet confines of the four-ton state coach. But the gaudy carriage has steel wheels and a Moroccan leather suspension so ineffective that riding inside is like “tossing in a rough sea,” in the words of one of the king’s sons.

  King George III

  The journey might be easier if his queen, Charlotte, were at his side, for he cherishes her and treasures her support. The couple lives at Buckingham House, an estate next to St. James’s Park in London.2 They are thought by many to be a boring couple, fond of gardening and a frugal lifestyle. George agreed to marry Charlotte before even meeting her, understanding his traditional duties—he needed a wife.

  George III chose Charlotte to be his bride because she had been born in northern Germany, like his own ancestors. The courtship was bizarre. An emissary sailed from England to present Charlotte’s dying mother with a contract, written in Latin, stating that Charlotte would depart immediately for England, convert to the Anglican Church, and never involve herself in politics. Elisabeth Albertine of Saxe-Hildburghausen, a n
oblewoman eager to see her eighth child married, agreed to the contract but died before the British diplomat arrived in Germany. It was left to Charlotte’s brother Adolphus Friedrich IV to sign on his mother’s behalf.

  Charlotte left for England immediately, never to return home again. Upon disembarking from the yacht Royal Charlotte after a stormy ten-day voyage from the North Sea port of Cuxhaven, she was whisked to London, where she met the king at the garden gate of St. James’s Palace. The date was September 8, 1761. Charlotte spoke no English, and George was put off by her homely appearance, but the contract had already been signed.

  They wed at nine o’clock that evening—Charlotte was just seventeen years old.

  Two weeks later, in a lavish coronation at Westminster Abbey, George III was officially crowned king and Charlotte his queen. In their short time together, they had already become quite comfortable with each other, thanks to George’s fluency in the German language.

  During the coronation ceremony, one famous poet in attendance, Thomas Gray, noted that the couple did not act in a royal manner. They were so famished from the long day of festivities that all pretenses disappeared. Despite their meal being served on golden plates, the king and queen, in the words of Gray, ate “like farmers.”

  Royal expectations aside, George III is a lightning-fast eater who is fastidious about his weight. Breakfast is usually just bread and butter served with tea. Fruit is always on hand for snacking during the day. Dinner is served at 4:00 p.m., and is a simple portion of mutton, soup, vegetables, and a pudding, all washed down by barley water. Charlotte and George do not entertain often, but when they do, it is common for guests to race through their dinner, for etiquette prevents them from continuing the meal once the king has finished his last bite.

  George III has come to love Charlotte deeply, despite initial concern about his bride’s beauty. Their marriage will be long, and he will never be unfaithful. This is a highly unusual commitment for a British king. George is well aware that his grandfather and father both strayed from the marital bed, and he is intent on setting a different example for his children—of which there are many. Charlotte, who learns to speak English with a heavy German accent and likes to regale her husband with performances of “God Save the King” on the harpsichord, has been pregnant almost every moment of their fourteen-year marriage. The couple now has ten children. At this very moment, Charlotte is three months along with their eleventh, a princess. All told, she will bear fifteen royal heirs.