George Washington, I exhort you my brethren, to guard against
them, for they intend to fall on the first _English_ they meet;
They have been on their march these two days, the Half-King and
the other chiefs will join you within five days, to hold a
council, though we know not the number we shall be. I shall say
no more, but remember me to my brethren the English.
Signed The Half-King.”
At two o’clock of that same May day (24th.) the little army came down
the eastern wooded hills that surrounded Great Meadows, and looked
across the waving grasses and low bushes which covered the field they
were soon to make classic ground. Immediately upon arriving at the
future battle-field information was secured from a trader confirming
Half-King’s alarming letter. Below the roadway, which passed the
meadow on the hillside, the Lieutenant-Colonel found two natural
intrenchments near a branch of Great Meadows run, perhaps old courses
of the brook through the swampy land. Here the troops and wagons were
placed.
Great Meadows may be described as two large basins the smaller lying
directly westward of the larger and connected with it by a narrow neck
of swampy ground. Each is a quarter of a mile wide and the two a mile
and a half in length.
The old roadway descends from the southern hills, coming out upon the
meadows at the eastern extremity of the western basin. It traverses
the hill-side south of the western meadow. The natural intrenchments
or depressions behind which Washington huddled his army on this May
afternoon were at the eastern edge of the western basin. Behind him
was the narrow neck of low-land which soon opened into the eastern
basin. Before him to his left on the hillside his newly-made road
crawled eastward into the hills. The Indian trail followed the edge of
the forest westward to Laurel Hill, five miles distant, and on to Fort
Duquesne.
On this faint opening into the western forest the little army and its
youthful commander kept their eyes as the sun dropped behind the hills
closing an anxious day and bringing a dreaded night. How large the
body of French might have been, not one of the one hundred and fifty
men knew. How far away they might be no one could guess. Here in this
forest meadow the little van-guard slept on their arms, surrounded by
watchful sentinels, with fifty-one miles of forest and mountain
between them and the nearest settlement at Will’s Creek. The darkling
forests crept down the hills on either side as though to hint by their
portentous shadows of the dead and dying that were to be.
But the night waned and morning came. With increasing energy, as
though nerved to duty by the dangers which surrounded him, the
twenty-two year old commander Washington gave his orders promptly. A
scouting party was sent on the Indian trail in search of the coming
French. Squads were set to threshing the forest for spies. Horsemen
were ordered to scour the country and keep look-out for the French
from neighboring points of vantage.
At night all returned, none the wiser for their vigilance and labor.
The French force had disappeared from the face of the earth! It may be
believed that this lack of information did not tend to ease the
intense strain of the hour. It must have been plain to the dullest
that serious things were ahead. Two flags, silken emblems of an
immemorial hatred, were being brought together in the Alleghenies. It
was a moment of utmost importance to Europe and America. Quebec and
Jamestown were met on Laurel Hill; and a spark struck here and now was
to “set the world on fire.”
However clearly this may have been seen, Washington was not the man to
withdraw. Indeed, the celerity with which he precipitated England and
France into war made him a criticised man on both continents.
Another day passed--and the French could not be found. On the
following day Christopher Gist arrived at Great Meadows with the
information that M. la Force (whose tracks he had seen within five
miles of Great Meadows) had been at his house, fifteen miles distant.
Acting on this reliable information Washington at once dispatched a
scouting party in pursuit.
The day passed and no word came to the anxious men in their trenches
in the meadows. Another night, silent and cheerless, came over the
mountains upon the valley, and with the night came rain. Fresh fears
of strategy and surprise must have arisen as the cheerless sun went
down.
Suddenly, at eight in the evening, a runner brought word that the
French were run to cover! Half-King, while coming to join Washington,
had found la Force’s party in “a low, obscure place.”
It was now time for a daring man to show himself. Such was the young
commander at Great Meadows.
“That very moment,” wrote Washington in his _Journal_, “I sent out
forty men and ordered my ammunition to be put in a place of safety,
fearing it to be a stratagem of the French to attack our camp; I left
a guard to defend it, and with the rest of my men set out in a heavy
rain, and in a night as dark as pitch.”
Perhaps a war was never precipitated under stranger circumstances.
Contrecoeur, commanding at Fort Duquesne, was made aware by his Indian
scouts of Washington’s progress all the way from the Potomac. The day
before Washington arrived at Great Meadows Contrecoeur ordered M. de
Jumonville to leave Fort Duquesne with a detachment of thirty-four
men, commanded by la Force, and go toward the advancing English. To
the English (when he met them) he was to explain he had come to order
them to retire. To the Indians he was to pretend he was “travelling
about to see what is transacting in the King’s Territories, and to
take notice of the different roads.” In the eyes of the English the
party was to be an embassy. In the eyes of the Indians, a party of
scouts reconnoitering. This is clear from the orders given by
Contrecoeur to Jumonville.
Three days before, on the 26th, this “embassy” was at Gist’s
plantation where, according to Gist’s report to Washington, they
“would have killed a cow and broken everything in the house, if two
_Indians_, whom he (Gist) had left in charge of the home, had not
prevented them.”
From Gist’s la Force had advanced within five miles of Great Meadows,
as Gist ascertained by their tracks on the Indian trail.
Then--although the English commander was within an hour’s march--the
French retraced their steps to the summit of Laurel Hill and,
descending deep into the obscure valley on the east, built a hut under
the lea of the precipice and rested from their labors. Here they
remained throughout the 27th, while Washington’s scouts were running
their legs off in the attempt to locate them and the young
Lieutenant-colonel was in a fever of anxiety at their sudden, ominous
disappearance. Now they were found.
What a march was that! The darkness was intense. The path, Washington
wrote, was “scarce broad enough for one man.” Now and then it was lost
completely and a quarter of an hour was wasted in finding it. Stones
and roots impeded the way, and were made trebly treacherous by the
torrents of rain which fell. The men struck the trees. They fell over
each other. They slipped from the narrow track and slid downward
through the soaking leafy carpet of the forests.
Enthusiastic tourists make the journey today from Great Meadows to the
summit of Laurel Hill on the track over which Washington and his
hundred men floundered and stumbled that wet May night a century and a
half ago. It is a hard walk but exceedingly fruitful to one of
imaginative vision. From Great Meadows the trail holds fast to the
height of ground until Braddock’s Run is crossed near “Braddock’s
Grave.” Picture that little group of men floundering down into this
mountain stream, swollen by the heavy rain, in the utter darkness of
that night! From Braddock’s Run the trail begins its long climb on the
sides of the foot-hills, by picturesque Peddler’s Rocks, to the top of
Laurel Hill, two thousand feet above.
Washington left Great Meadows about eight o’clock. It was not until
sunrise that Half-King’s sentries at “Washington’s Spring,” saw the
van-guard file out on the narrow ridge, which, dividing the headwaters
of Great Meadow Run and Cheat River, made an easy ascent to the summit
of the mountain. The march of five miles had been accomplished, with
great difficulty, in a little less than two hours--or at the rate of
_one mile in two hours_.
Forgetting all else for the moment, consider the young leader of this
floundering, stumbling army. There is not another episode in all
Washington’s long, eventful, life that shows more clearly his strength
of personal determination and daring. Beside this all-night march from
Great Meadows to Washington’s Spring, Wolf’s ascent to the Plains of
Abraham at Quebec, was a past-time. The climb up from Wolf’s Cove (all
romantic accounts and pictures to the contrary notwithstanding) was an
exceedingly easy march up a valley that hardly deserved to be
called steep. A child can run along Wolfe’s path at any point from top
to bottom. A man in full daylight today, can walk over Washington’s
five mile course to Laurel Hill in half the time the little army
needed on that black night. If a more difficult ten-hour night march
has been made in the history of warfare in America, who led it and
where was it made? No feature of the campaign shows more clearly the
unmatched, irresistible energy of this twenty-two-year-old boy. For
those to whom Washington, the man, is “unknown,” there are lessons in
this little briery path today of value far beyond their cost.
[Illustration: MAP OF FORT NECESSITY IN LOWDERMILK’S “HISTORY OF
CUMBERLAND”, FROM FREEMAN LEWIS’ SURVEY.]
Whether Washington intended to attack the French before he reached
Half-King is not known; at the Spring a conference was held and it was
immediately decided to attack. Washington did not know and could not
have known that Jumonville was an embassador. The action of the French
in approaching Great Meadows and then withdrawing and hiding was not
the behavior of an embassy. Half-King and his Indians were of the
opinion that the French party entertained evil designs, and, as
Washington afterwards wrote, “If we had been such fools as to let them
(the French) go, they (the Indians) would never have helped us to take
any other Frenchmen.”
Two scouts were sent out in advance; then, in Indian file, Washington
and his men with Half-King and a few Indians followed and “prepared to
surround them.”
Laurel Hill, the most westerly range of the Alleghenies, trends north
and south through Pennsylvania. In Fayette county, about one mile on
the summit northward from the National Road, lies Washington’s Spring
where Half-King encamped. The Indian trail coursed along the summit
northward fifteen miles to Gist’s. On the eastern side, Laurel Hill
descends into a valley varying from a hundred to five hundred feet
deep. Nearly two miles from the Spring, in the bottom of a valley four
hundred feet deep, lay Jumonville’s “embassy.” The attacking party,
guided by Indians, who had previously wriggled down the hillside on
their bellies and found the French, advanced along the Indian trail
and then turned off and began stealthily creeping down the
mountain-side.
Washington’s plan was, clearly, to surround and capture the French. It
is plain he did not understand the ground. They were encamped in the
bottom of a valley two hundred yards wide and more than a mile long.
Moreover the hillside on which the English were descending abruptly
ended on a narrow ledge of rocks thirty feet high and a hundred yards
long.
Coming suddenly out on the rocks, Washington leading the right
division and Half-King the left, it was plain in the twinkling of an
eye that it would not be possible to achieve a bloodless victory.
Washington therefore gave and received first fire. It was fifteen
minutes before the astonished but doughty French, probably now
surrounded by Half-King’s Indians, were compelled to surrender. Ten of
their number, including their “Embassador” Jumonville, were killed
outright and one wounded. Twenty-one prisoners were taken. One
Frenchman escaped, running half clothed through the forests to Fort
Duquesne with the evil tidings.
“We killed,” writes Washington, “Mr. de Jumonville, the
Commander of that party, as also nine others; we wounded one and
made twenty-one prisoners, among whom were _M. la Force, and M.
Drouillon_ and two cadets. The Indians scalped the dead and
took away the greater part of their arms, after which we marched
on with the prisoners under guard to the _Indian_ camp.... I
marched on with the prisoners. _They informed me that they had
been sent with a summons to order me to retire._ A plausible
pretense to discover our camp and to obtain knowlege of our
forces and our situation! It was so clear that they were come to
reconnoiter what we were, that I admired their assurance, when
they told me they were come as an Embassy; their instructions
were to get what knowledge they could of the roads, rivers, and
all the country as far as the Potomac; and instead of coming as
an Embassador, publicly and in an open manner, they came
secretly, and sought the most hidden retreats more suitable for
deserters than for Embassadors; they encamped there and remained
hidden for whole days together, at a distance of not more than
five miles from us; they sent spies to reconnoiter our camp; the
whole body turned back 2 miles; they sent the two messengers
mentioned in the instruction, to inform M. de Contrecoeur of the
place where we were, and of our disposition, that he might send
his detachments to enforce the summons as soon as it should be
given. Besides, an Embassador has princely attendants, whereas
this was only a simple petty _French_ officer, an Embassador has
no need of spies, his person being always sacred: and seeing
their intention was so good, why did they tarry two days at five
miles distance from us without acquainting me with the summons,
or at least, with something that related to the Embassy? That
alone would be sufficient to excite the strongest suspicions,
and we must do them the justice to say, that, as they wanted to
hide themselves, they could not have picked out better places
than they had done. The summons was so insolent, and savored of
so much Gasonade that if it had been brought openly by two men
it would have been an excessive Indulgence to have suffered them
to return.... They say they called to us as soon as they had
discovered us; which is an absolute falsehood, for I was then
marching at the head of the company going towards them, and can
positively affirm, that, when they first saw us, they ran to
their arms, without calling, as I must have heard them had they
so done.”
[Illustration: Ledge from which Washington opened fire upon
Jumonville’s party.]
In a letter to his brother, Washington wrote “I fortunately escaped
without any wound; for the right wing where I stood, was exposed to,
and received all the enemy’s fire; and it was the part where the man
was killed and the rest wounded. I heard the bullets whistle; and,
believe me, there is something charming in the sound.” The letter was
published in the London Magazine. It is said George II. read it and
commented dryly: “He would not say so if he had been used to hear
many.” In later years Washington heard too much of the fatal music,
and once, when asked if he had written such rodomontade, is said to
have answered gravely, “If I said so, it was when I was young.” Aye,
but it is memorials of that daring, young Virginian, to whom whistling
bullets were charming, that we seek in the Alleghenies today. We catch
a similar glimpse of this ardent, boyish spirit in a letter written
from Fort Necessity later. Speaking of strengthening the
fortifications Washington writes: “We have, with nature’s assistance,
made a good entrenchment, and by clearing the bushes out of these
meadows, prepared a charming field for an encounter.” Over and above
the anxieties with which he was ever beset there shines out clearly
the exuberance of youthful zest and valor--soon to be hardened and
quenched by innumerable cares and heavy responsibilities.
Thus the first blow of that long, bloody, seven year’s war was struck
by the red-uniformed Virginians under Washington, at the bottom of
that Allegheny valley. He immediately returned to Great Meadows and
sent eastward to the belated Fry for reinforcements. On the 30th, the
French prisoners were sent eastward to Virginia, and the construction
of a fort was begun at Great Meadows, by erecting “small palisades.”
This was completed by the following day, June 1st. Washington speaks
of this fort in his Journal as “Fort Necessity” under date of June
25th. The name suggests the exigencies which led to its erection; lack
of troops and provisions. On June 2nd Washington wrote in his Journal:
“We had prayers in the Fort”; the name Necessity may not have been
used at first. On the 6th Gist arrived from Will’s Creek bringing the
news of Colonel Fry’s death from injuries sustained by being thrown
from his horse. Thus the command now devolved upon Washington who had
been in actual command from the beginning. On the 9th the remainder of
the Virginia regiment arrived from Will’s Creek, with the swivels,
under Colonel Muse. On the day following Captain Mackaye arrived with
the independent company of South Carolinians.
This reinforcement put a new face on affairs, and it is clear that the
new Colonel commanding secretly hoped to capture Fort Duquesne
forthwith. The road was finished to Great Meadows. For two weeks, now,
the work went on completing it as far as Gist’s, on Mount Braddock. In
the meantime a sharp lookout for the French was maintained and spies
were continually sent toward Fort Duquesne. Among all else that taxed
the energies of the young Colonel was the Indian question. At one time
he received and answered a deputation of Delawares and Shawanese which
he knew was sent by the French. Yet the answer of this youth to the
“treacherous devils,” as he calls them in his private record of the
day, was as bland and diplomatic as that of Indian Chieftain bred to
hypocrisy and deceit. He put little faith in the redskins, but made
good use of those he had as spies. He also did all in his power to
restrain the vagrant tribes from joining the French, and offered to
all who came or would come to him a hospitality he could ill afford.
On the 28th the road was completed to Gist’s, and eight of the sixteen
miles from Gist’s to the mouth of Redstone Creek. On this day the
scouts brought word of reinforcements at Fort Duquesne and of
preparations for sending out an army. Immediately Washington summoned
Mackaye’s company from Fort Necessity, and the building of a fort was
begun by throwing up entrenchments on Mount Braddock. All outlying
squads were called in. But on the 30th, fresher information being at
hand, it was decided at a council of war to retreat to Virginia rather
than oppose the strong force which was reported to be advancing up the
Monongahela.
The consternation at Fort Duquesne upon the arrival of that single,
barefoot fugitive from Jumonville’s company can be imagined. Relying
on the pompous pretenses of the embassadorship and desiring to avoid
an indefensible violation of the Treaty of Utrecht--though its spirit
and letter were “already infringed by his very presence on the
ground”--Contrecoeur (one of the best representatives of his proud
King that ever came to America) assembled a council of war and ordered
each opinion to be put in writing. Mercier gave moderate advice;
Coulon-Villiers, half-brother of Jumonville, burning with rage, urged
violent measures. Mercier prevailed, and an army of five hundred
French and as many, or more, Indians, among whom were many Delawares,
formerly friends of the English, was raised to march and
meet Washington. At his request, the command was given to
Coulon-Villiers--_Le Grande Villiers_, so called from his prowess
among the Indians. Mercier was second in command. This was the army
before which Washington was now slowly, painfully, retreating from
Mount Braddock toward Virginia.
It was a sad hour--that in which the Virginian retreat was ordered by
its daring Colonel, eager for a fight. But, even if he secretly
wished to stay and defend the splendid site on Mount Braddock where he
had entrenched his army, the counsel of older heads prevailed. It
would have been better had the army stuck to those breastworks--but
the suffering and humiliation to come was not foreseen.
Backward over the rough, new road, the little army plodded, the
Virginians hauling the swivels by hand. Two teams and a few
pack-horses were all that remained of horse-flesh equal to the
occasion. Even Washington and his officers walked. For a week there
had been no bread. In two days Fort Necessity was reached, where,
quite exhausted, the little army went into camp. There were only a few
bags of flour here. It was plain, now, that the retreat to Virginia
was ill-advised. Human strength was not equal to it. So there was
nothing to do but send post-haste to Will’s Creek for help. But, if
strength were lacking--there was courage and to spare! For after a
“full and free” conference of the officers it was determined to
enlarge the stockade, strengthen the fortifications, and await the
enemy, whatever his number or power.
The day following was spent in this work, and famed Fort Necessity was
completed. It was the shape of an irregular square situated upon a
small height of land near the center of the swampy meadow. “The
natural entrenchments” of which Washington speaks in his _Journal_ may
have been merely this height of ground, or old courses of the two
brooks which flow by it on the north and on the east. At any rate the
fort was built on an “island,” so to speak, in the wet lowland. A
narrow neck of solid land connected it with the southern hillside,
along which the road ran. A shallow ditch surrounded the earthen
palisaded sides of the fort. Parallel with the southeastern and
southwestern palisades rifle pits were dug. Bastion gateways offered
entrance and exit. The work embraced less than a sixth of an acre of
land. All day long skirmishers and double picket lines were kept out
and the steady advance of the French force, three times the size of
the army fearlessly awaiting it, was reported by hurrying scouts.
No army ever slept on its arms of a night surer of a battle on the
morrow than did this first English army that ever came into the west.
_Le Grande Villiers_, thirsting for revenge, lay not five miles off,
with a thousand followers who had caught his spirit.
By earliest morning light on Wednesday, July third, an English sentry
was brought in wounded. The French were then descending Laurel Hill,
four miles distant. They had attacked the entrenchments on Mount
Braddock the morning before only to find their bird had flown, and now
were pressing after the retreating redcoats and their “buckskin
Colonel.”
Little is known of the story of this day within that earthen fort save
as it is told in the meagre details of the general battle. There was
great lack of food, but, to compensate for this, as the soldiers no
doubt thought, there was much to drink! By eleven o’clock the French
and Indians, spreading throughout the forests on the northwest, began
firing at six hundred yards distance. Finally they circled to the
southeast where the forests approach nearer to the English trenches.
Washington at once drew his little army out of the fort and boldly
challenged assault on that narrow neck of solid land on the south
which formed the only approach to the fort.
[Illustration: Grape Shot found near Fort Necessity. Actual
size.]
But the crafty Villiers, not to be tempted, kept well within the
forest shadows to the south and east--cutting off all retreat to
Virginia! Realizing at last that the French would not give battle,
Washington withdrew again behind his entrenchments, Mackaye’s South
Carolinians occupying the rifle-pits which paralleled the two sides of
the fortification.