Hardly had the last clod been thrown on poor Braddock's grave, when
his army was seized with a second and most unaccountable panic; for no
one could tell from whence or how it came. With those horrid yells
still sounding in their ears, and those ghastly sights of blood and
carnage still fresh in their memories, they fancied they heard, in
every passing gust that stirred the dead leaves, warning whispers of
the stealthy approach of the dreaded enemy, and that in every waving
thicket he might be lurking for them in ambush.
Col. Dunbar, as next in rank, had, for the time being, taken command
of the troops; but, cowardly as the old general was rash, he shared in
the general panic, and could do nothing to re-assure his men or give
them a little confidence. So, without waiting to know by whose orders,
or if by any at all, they fell to, and destroyed all the heavy
baggage, baggage-wagons, and artillery; every thing, in fact, that
could hinder them in their retreat. Thus disencumbered, they set out
in hot haste; and after a hurried and disorderly march, or rather
flight, they reached Fort Cumberland.
Here Col. Washington, who had taken no part whatever in the
unsoldierly proceedings just mentioned, stopped a few days to recruit
a little after the severe fatigues he had, for a week past, been
called upon to undergo, while still too much enfeebled from his
ten-days' fever. The first use he made of this breathing spell was to
write an affectionate letter to his much-honored mother to ease her
mind of the anxiety he knew she would be feeling on his account, when
rumors of the late disaster should reach her ears. He told her of his
almost miraculous deliverance from a cruel and bloody death, in
language full of gratitude to the God of battles, who had shielded him
in so signal a manner, when his brave comrades were falling by
hundreds around him. Writing to his brother Augustine at the same
time, he wittily says, "Since my arrival at this place, I have heard a
circumstantial account of my death and dying speech; and I take this
early opportunity of contradicting the former, and assuring you that I
have not yet composed the latter."
When he had so far regained his strength as to enable him to travel,
he betook himself once more to the peaceful shades of Mount Vernon. He
re-entered at once upon his duties as Adjutant-General of the Northern
District,--a post he still continued to hold, although his connection
with the regular army had ceased with the death of Braddock.
But we must return for a few moments to Fort Cumberland, where we left
the valorous Col. Dunbar quite out of breath from the uncommonly brisk
speed, which seems to have been his habit now and then, of getting
over very rough and hilly roads. Any soldier, with a spark of manly
spirit under his sword-belt, would have made a resolute stand at a
place of so much importance, and held it to the death, rather than
left the defenceless inhabitants exposed to the horrors of a border
war. Col. Dunbar was not, by any means, the true soldier just hinted
at; and consequently did no such thing. Seeing that the sick and
wounded were but so many clogs to rapid and easy motion, he resolved
to leave them behind under the care of the slender garrison he had
placed in the fort, who were expected to defend it against an enemy
that he, with a force of fifteen hundred strong, had not the courage
to face. Thus rid of his hinderances to the last degree of
lightsomeness, he pushed on by forced marches, as if a legion of
painted savages were yelling at his heels; and never slackened speed
until he found himself safe within the friendly walls of Philadelphia,
where he went into comfortable winter-quarters while yet the dog-days
were at their hottest.
Thus basely deserted by these doughty regulars, who had been sent
over so many thousand miles of salt water for their protection,
the colonists saw with dismay the whole line of their vast frontier,
from Lake Ontario to the Carolinas, open to the inroads of the
French and their Indian allies. In the long-run, however (as you
shall see hereafter), two luckier mishaps than Braddock's defeat
and Dunbar's retreat, that seemed at the time so fraught with evil,
could not have befallen them. They were thereby taught two wholesome
lessons, which they might otherwise have been a long time in learning,
and without which they never could have gained their independence
and made themselves a nation. The first, by proving that British
regulars were not, by any means, the never-to-be-beaten, and the
never-to-be-made-to-skedaddle warriors that they boasted themselves to
be, and that one-half of the Americans were foolish enough to believe
them to be. Thus, when the War of Independence broke out, our
Revolutionary fathers remembered this, and were not afraid to meet the
English even on such unequal terms. The second, by opening their eyes
to the fact, that, as they (the colonists) could no longer look to the
mother-country for protection, they must henceforward rely upon their
own strength and resources for their defence and safety.
The people of Virginia, seeing the forlorn condition of things, were
at last awakened to a full sense of the danger that threatened, not
only their back settlements, but even the heart of the Old Dominion
itself. They therefore began to bestir themselves in right good
earnest to put the province in a better posture of defence; and, to
this end, resolved to send more troops into the field, raise more
money, procure new arms and fresh supplies of military stores, and
erect a chain of twenty block-houses, or small forts, stretching along
the whole line of their frontier, from Pennsylvania to North
Carolina,--a distance of three hundred and sixty miles. Washington's
career as a soldier had not, up to this time, been marked by any of
those daring and brilliant exploits that charm and dazzle vulgar
minds; but had, on the contrary, been one unbroken train of
misfortunes and disasters. Notwithstanding this, however, the
confidence his countrymen had placed in his prudence, courage,
ability, and patriotism, so far from having been diminished thereby,
had gone on steadily gaining strength from the very beginning. They
well knew, that, had the headstrong and unlucky Braddock given heed to
his prudent and timely counsel, the late campaign could never have
ended in the disgraceful and disastrous manner that it had. As the
most flattering proof of their esteem and confidence, they now turned
to him in their hour of peril, and, although he was not yet
twenty-four years of age, called upon him, as with one voice, to take
the chief command of all the forces of the province. After some
deliberation, being persuaded that it was really their earnest desire,
he modestly accepted the appointment, on condition that certain
changes should be made in the military, and that he should be allowed
to choose his field-officers. This was readily agreed to by the
Virginia House of Burgesses; who, in addition, voted him fifteen
hundred dollars by way of compensating him for the many losses he had
suffered, in horses, baggage, and money since the beginning of the
war.
Accordingly, early in the autumn, he took up his headquarters at the
frontier town of Winchester, beyond the Blue Ridge, in the beautiful
Valley of the Shenandoah. As four great highways met here from as many
different quarters of the country, it was a post of much importance;
and he resolved, by strongly fortifying it, to make it the
rallying-point of all the border. His men were all raw recruits, just
taken from the plough or forge or carpenter's bench, as the case might
be; and, to render them fit for the peculiar service in which they
were to be employed, it became his duty, besides training them in the
regular military exercises, to instruct them in the arts and
stratagems of Indian warfare, or bush-fighting, as it is more aptly
called. Long, however, before he was ready to take the field, the
French and Indians, made daring and audacious by their great victory
on the Monongahela, had crossed the mountains at several different
points in great numbers, and had already begun their bloody work. The
terrified and defenceless inhabitants dwelling in the distant parts of
the wilderness now came flocking to the Shenandoah Valley for
protection from the merciless enemy, some of them never stopping till
they had passed on over to the eastern slopes of the Blue Ridge.
One morning, a rumor found its way to Winchester, that a large party
of Indians were within twelve miles of that place, pillaging, burning,
and murdering at a frightful rate. Straightway a great fear fell upon
the inhabitants. Little children ran, and hid their faces in their
mothers' aprons, crying piteously; women ran hither and thither,
screaming, and wringing their hands; and broad-shouldered,
double-fisted men stood stock-still, and shook in their moccasins.
Washington tried to prevail upon some of his soldiers to sally out
with him, and drive the enemy back from the valley; but, being
strangers to military obedience, not a leather-shirt of all the rabble
could he get to venture beyond the ditches. When he put them in mind
of what was expected of them as men and soldiers, they only answered,
that, if they must die, they would rather stay there, and die with
their wives and families. Having a lurking suspicion, that, after all,
there might be more smoke than fire in these flying rumors, he sent
out a scout to bring him some more certain tidings of the matter. In a
wonderfully short time, the scout came back, pale and affrighted, with
the dismal intelligence that he had, with his own ears, heard the guns
and yells of the Indians not four miles distant, and that Winchester
would be beset by the savages in less than an hour. Whereupon
Washington made another appeal to the courage and manhood of his men;
which proved so far successful, that a forlorn hope of forty finally
screwed up pluck enough to follow him to the scene of danger. Moving
with great caution and circumspection, and keeping all their ears and
eyes about them, the party came at length to the spot mentioned by the
scout; where, sure enough, they heard a somewhat scattering discharge
of fire-arms, and divers outlandish noises, that bore, however, but a
very slight resemblance to the terrific yells and whoops of Indian
warriors. Advancing a few paces farther, a sudden turn of the road
brought them in sight of two drunken soldiers, who were cursing and
swearing and hallooing in a manner quite outrageous and immoral; and
now and then, by way of adding a little spice to this part of their
entertainment, firing off their pistols into the tree-tops. And this
it was that had given rise to those wild rumors that had thrown the
whole country into such a terrible panic. To this imprudent waste of
breath and ammunition, the latter of which they had but little enough
to spare, Washington put a rather sudden stop by ordering the lively
young blades to be seized, and carried as prisoners to Winchester,
where he kept them in severe confinement for more than a week after
they had regained their sober senses. All this was ludicrous enough;
and you may be sure that Washington, although grave and dignified
beyond his years, had a hearty laugh over it the first time he found
himself alone with one or two of his brother-officers.
In addition to his other cares, the duties of his office required him
to visit, from time to time, the several forts along the frontier, to
see that those already finished were kept in fighting order, and give
directions for the proper construction of those still under way. Now,
the little garrison of forty men, that Col. Dunbar had left to hold
and defend Fort Cumberland against the combined armies of the French
and Indians, was commanded by a certain Dagworthy, who, pluming
himself upon the king's commission as captain, refused to own the
authority and render obedience to the orders of Washington, who held
only a governor's commission as colonel. It will be remembered, that
Washington had a similar misunderstanding with Capt. Mackay, eighteen
months before, at the Great Meadows, touching this same question of
rank between royal and provincial officers, which had caused him great
trouble and annoyance. Matters had now come to such a pass, that a
little upstart captain of forty men could set at naught the authority
of the commander-in-chief of the forces of a whole province, merely
because he could boast a bit of paper embellished with the king's
name. This was a degradation too grievous to be longer borne by a
manly, independent spirit. Though sorely vexed and annoyed, Washington
had too much self-respect and prudence to make a noise about the
matter; but he inwardly resolved, that, as soon as the coming-on of
winter would oblige the Indians to recross the mountains to the
shelter of their homes beyond, he would take advantage of the
breathing spell thus allowed him to make a journey to Boston, there to
submit the question for final settlement to Gen. Shirley, who had
succeeded Braddock to the chief command of all the British forces in
America.
Accordingly, when the departure of the Indians brought the distressed
inhabitants of the border the prospect of a few months' peace and
quiet, he departed for Boston, in company with two of his
brother-officers, Capts. Stewart and Mercer.
Now, in those days, a journey from the Old Dominion to the Bay City, a
distance of but five hundred miles, in the depth of winter, when the
roads were either deep and stiff with mire, or rough and knobby with
frost, was really a greater undertaking than a voyage in a steamship
from Boston to Constantinople would now be considered. Our young men
travelled on horseback, as was the fashion of the day; and took with
them their negro servants, who, riding behind with their masters'
saddle-bags and portmanteaus, and dressed in fine livery, with gold
lace on their fur hats, and blue cloaks, gave quite an air of style
and consequence to the little cavalcade.
Washington's fame had long since gone before him, as was proved by the
marked distinction and respect with which he was treated at
Philadelphia, New York, and other places along the route. All were
eager to behold with their own eyes the youthful hero, whose gallant
conduct and wonderful escape at the defeat of Braddock had been so
noised throughout the Colonies; and when we add to this his tall and
commanding form, the manly beauty of his face, his dignified bearing,
his rich and handsome dress, and the unequalled skill with which he
managed his large and noble horse, we cannot wonder at the interest
and admiration his appearance awakened in the minds of all who saw
him.
When he got to Boston, where he likewise met with a flattering
reception, he lost no time in making known to Gen. Shirley the
business that had taken him thither. The justness and reasonableness
of his complaints were promptly acknowledged by this officer, who, to
place the vexed question beyond dispute, declared, that henceforward
Capt. Dagworthy and all inferior officers, holding king's commissions,
should own the authority and render obedience to the orders of all
provincial officers of superior rank. This, the main object of his
journey, thus happily disposed of, Col. Washington set out on his
return to Virginia: but, knowing that the Indian war-whoop was not
likely soon to be heard in the Shenandoah Valley, he indulged himself
so far as to tarry two whole weeks at New-York City; and for the best
of reasons, as I will tell you.
On his way to Boston, he had met here with the beautiful and
accomplished Miss Phillipps, with whom he was vastly pleased; and it
was for the nearer study of this young lady's charms, and further
cultivation of her acquaintance, that our young Virginia colonel was
now tempted for once in his life thus to linger on his way. Nothing
came of it, however, that anybody now can tell; although the lady, you
may stake your heads upon it, must and ought to have been highly
flattered at being thus singled out by the young hero whose name and
praise were in everybody's mouth. Perhaps his admiration never ripened
into love; and, if it did, his modesty, as in the case of the Lowland
Beauty, must have hindered him from making known his partiality.
Whatever it may have been, it is, at this late day, of little
consequence; for long before that year had passed away, with all its
anxious cares, its perils and privations, and with all its train of
ghastly Indian horrors, these tender sentiments had become to him
nothing more than pleasant memories.