The next day, early in the afternoon, as Abbott was preparing to go directly to the Tower and demand of the jailer to see Washington, a messenger arrived for him with a note from Mrs. Stevenson. It said that a friend of both Dr. Franklin and Mr. Burke was certainly a friend of hers and that he was most welcome to lodge with her family for as long as he found it convenient. It begged him to send his man with his things as soon as possible. Supper would be awaiting him that evening.
He made the arrangements with Mr. Jarvis, who told him that Mr. Sellars would take his trunks to Mrs. Stevenson that afternoon.
“I assume,” Jarvis said, “that Your Excellency will want your manservant to continue to attend to you once you are there. I doubt the government will have any objection.”
Did Burke’s warning extend to a manservant employed by the government? It would, of course, be useful to have Sellars in his service. On the other hand, he could no doubt obtain someone elsewhere who was not beholden to the administration. Or just do the things that needed to be done himself.
“I think not, Mr. Jarvis. My needs are simple, and I’m sure Mrs. Stevenson can make what other arrangements I might need. Please be sure that Mr. Sellars is given a proper gratuity, my thanks for his service and an indication that, should he be in need of a reference, I will be pleased to supply it, even though his services to me have been of short duration.”
Jarvis did not look happy. “Very well, Excellency.” He bowed his head slightly and departed.
By 4:00 p.m. a carriage, compliments of the government, was waiting outside to deliver him to Mrs. Stevenson’s house, which turned out to be conveniently located at 7 Craven Street, not far from Charing Cross. It annoyed him that he had to arrive at her home in a vehicle bearing the Royal Arms on its side, but he seemed to have little choice at the moment.
Mrs. Stevenson was there to greet him and showed him up a stairway to a well-appointed room with a pleasant view of the street. Over dinner she asked for the latest news of Dr. Franklin.
He was disappointed that Polly was not at dinner, but Mrs. Stevenson explained that she was away for a few days visiting the parents of her late husband.
Towards the end of dinner, a servant appeared and announced that a letter from the First Minister’s office had been delivered for His Excellency. He handed Abbott an envelope embossed with the Royal Arms, in red. He opened it, and since Mrs. Stevenson had bent her head forward, clearly interested in the contents, he read aloud:
“My Dear Sir,
It is my pleasure to inform you that you may meet with George Washington at the Tower at your convenience. Kindly present this letter to the Governor to obtain the right of entry.
I trust you will advise him of his need to select an attorney since the Solicitor General was here during the day to advise His Excellency Lord North that the treason investigation has begun and is progressing rapidly.
I have the honour to be, &c.,
Jacob Hartleb”
“What do you make of that?” Mrs. Stevenson asked.
“I am pleased, obviously. For the most part. But I find it distressing that he did not use my title in addressing me. Even though I’ve had that title only a brief while, I take his having failed to use it a form of insult to my country.”
“What else?”
“That he referred to His Excellency, General Washington, only as ‘George Washington,’ which is also a way of avoiding acknowledgement that he outranks all but the most senior generals in the British Army.”
She laughed. “You can hardly expect anything else, Mr. Abbott. As you must surely be aware, but there have been raging debates, both in the government and in Parliament, as to whether your Continental Congress, your generals, your governmental officials or anyone else in rebellion should be acknowledged as having legitimate authority or should simply be treated as something other.”
“The something other being?”
“Rebels needing to be hanged as soon as the government can get its hands on them.”
“I see. Well, it is quite odd, because when the Carlisle Commission came to Philadelphia two years ago to try to negotiate an end to the Revolution, the commission members dealt for months with men who were delegates to our Congress.”
She shrugged. “Politics is a strange and off-putting business. That is why I tend to avoid it, at least in what I say in public. When will you go to see General Washington?”
“I am inclined to go tonight, before they change their minds.”
“I will lend you our driver and carriage. It is not fancy, but it will take you there.”
“Why, thank you, Mrs. Stevenson. It is much appreciated.”
With dinner over, he excused himself and went upstairs to change into his best clothes. He rejected wearing a peg and instead strapped on the cleverly built leather-and-wood leg and foot. When a silk stocking was pulled over it, it was hard to tell that he was wearing an artificial leg at all. And then he went down to say goodbye to Mrs. Stevenson—who wished him good luck—and boarded the carriage, which was waiting for him out in front.
He had rehearsed many times in his mind how to approach General Washington when he finally met him. He had seen the man at a distance a number of times, both before the war in Philadelphia and in the army after Abbott enlisted. But he had never met him in person. Should he be entirely formal? Should he be open about his instructions or keep them to himself? He had thought about it incessantly on the ship, as well as in the guest house as he tossed and turned while trying to fall asleep. Now he was thinking about it again as the carriage bounced along towards the Tower. As he approached the Tower gate, he was still undecided.
And there was one more issue that had been added to his list since he arrived in England. Clearly, some in the government were not interested at all in a negotiation. They just wanted Washington to hang. How candid did he need to be about that? He was, of course, doing exactly what he routinely did as a lawyer on first meeting a new client. He was trying to decide how much to tell the man and how much to hold back. If you were too optimistic, the client would likely sense you just wanted to handle his matter, no matter what; too pessimistic and he would go elsewhere. But Washington was not his client. He was instead the man on whom an entire nation being born had pinned its hopes. In a way now, those hopes were on him. He shivered at the thought.