Washington: A Life (19 page)

On election day, July 24, 1758, the absentee candidate engaged in the popular, if technically illegal, custom of intoxicating local voters. His campaign forwarded him an expense account for thirty-four gallons of wine, three pints of brandy, thirteen gallons of beer, eight quarts of cider, and forty gallons of rum punch, costing the candidate a sizable thirty-nine pounds in Virginia currency. Accepting this expense, Washington hoped that his backers had plied all voters impartially with strong beverages: “My only fear is that you spent with too sparing a hand.”
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As voting for the two seats got under way in Washington’s absence, it was clear how much power the young war hero wielded in this rustic area. He profited from the fact that one candidate was Thomas Bryan Martin, the nephew of Thomas, Lord Fairfax, proprietor of the Northern Neck. Since each voter cast two votes, Washington and Martin formed a ticket against the incumbents, with the latter’s presence enlisting Fairfax support. Among those supporting Washington was Lord Fairfax himself, followed by a sterling list of local luminaries and his regimental surgeon, Dr. James Craik. Even George William Fairfax arrived in Winchester to endorse his wife’s faithful admirer. The final vote sharply reversed Washington’s crashing defeat of three years earlier as he garnered 309 of 397 votes cast and easily outpaced the other three candidates, including Thomas Bryan Martin, who, as runner-up with 240 votes, became the second burgess.

Washington’s vote-getting prowess was only magnified by having trounced his opponents in absentia. Robert Rutherford credited his victory to his fair treatment of his men and “ardent zeal for the common cause.”
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Colonel Wood was hoisted aloft and carried about the town amid boisterous huzzahs for Washington. In thanking friends for their support, Colonel Washington sounded openly jubilant: “If thanks flowing from a heart replete with joy and gratitude can in any measure compensate for the fatigue, anxiety and pain you had at my election, be assured you have them.”
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He instinctively struck a generous tone, stating that his best way of thanking voters was by “making their interests … my own and doing everything that lies in my little power for the honor and welfare of the county.”
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With a thoroughness that previewed bigger things to come, Washington filed away the poll sheet so that he could form his own alphabetized list, showing how each person had voted.

Even as he thrilled to this electoral victory, he was entangled in a bitter imbroglio over the optimal route for the march to Fort Duquesne, a seemingly minor tactical dispute with major political overtones. Washington wanted the Forbes expedition to follow the road Braddock had charted through the wilderness, not only because he himself had originally blazed the trail but because it passed through Virginia and would consolidate the colony’s commercial presence in the Ohio Country. Some assertive Philadelphians agitated for a road from Raystown, Pennsylvania, which would benefit their colony. After chatting with Colonel Henry Bouquet, an aide to General Forbes, Washington was aghast to discover that he favored the Pennsylvania road. “If Colo. Bouquet succeeds in this point with the general, all is lost! All is lost by Heavens!” Washington told Forbes’s secretary, Francis Halkett.
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In resorting to hyperbole, Washington may have thought he was claiming the moral high ground, but Forbes saw only a self-serving maneuver by a bumptious young Virginian. “By a very unguarded letter of Col. Washington that accidentally fell into my hands,” Forbes told Bouquet, “I am now at the bottom of their scheme against this new [Pennsylvania] road, a scheme that I think was a shame for any officer to be concerned in.”
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At this stage of his life, Washington sometimes found it difficult to distinguish his own from the general interest. In selecting the Pennsylvania road, military historians have argued, Forbes may have selected the better route because it was shorter and bypassed treacherous water crossings. Conceding these advantages, an unyielding Washington countered that the Pennsylvania road had to span “monstrous mountains, covered with woods and rocks” and might not be finished before cold weather intervened.
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The willful Washington refused to let the matter drop. In late August he wrote a rude, hectoring letter to Bouquet, chiding him that, if only they had chosen Braddock’s Road, they would now be undisputed masters of the Ohio Country.
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Committing a mistake common among headstrong young people, Washington went behind his opponent’s back to someone even higher. He hadn’t yet acquired smooth political skills and could seem crudely insistent. With questionable judgment, he circumvented Forbes and Bouquet to lobby the new Virginia lieutenant governor, Francis Fauquier, who had replaced Dinwiddie. He also told Speaker Robinson that Forbes had squandered an egregious amount of time and money: “Will then our injured country pass by such abuses? I hope not. Rather let a full representation of the matter go to His Majesty. Let him know how grossly his [honor] and the public money has been prostituted.”
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All this heated rhetoric came from a man later renowned for his cool judgment. Perhaps, newly elected to the House of Burgesses, Washington felt entitled to issue blunt ultimatums to Williamsburg politicians. It should also be noted that his special pleading made him a folk hero in Virginia, where he was applauded for standing up for the colony’s interests by proselytizing for Braddock’s Road.

When General Forbes drew up plans for the assault on Fort Duquesne, he overcame his irritation with Washington and assigned him to lead one of three brigades spearheading the charge. The young Virginian was the only colonial officer thus honored. As he braced for a last chance to show his military mettle, Washington experienced one of the more harrowing moments in his career. The ghastly mishap began when scouts alerted Forbes to an enemy reconnaissance party, prowling the woods three miles away, who were seeking to grab livestock. To handle this threat, Forbes dispatched hundreds of Virginians under Lieutenant Colonel George Mercer. At camp, Washington heard distinct sounds of “hot firing,” indicating to him and Forbes that Mercer’s men were taking a terrible pounding from the enemy. Forbes sent Washington and several hundred men to relieve their fellow Virginians. They advanced through woods in a deepening twilight that was thickened by musket smoke, screening off any clear view of the fighting up ahead. Washington later insisted that he had sent a messenger to notify Mercer of his approach, lest his men be mistaken for the enemy.

No sooner did Washington’s men glimpse the soldiers ahead than they reeled under the impact of repeated rounds of gunfire and began to fire back. It turned out that Virginians were firing at Virginians. As Washington fathomed the full horror of this mistake, he unsheathed his sword and slashed at his men’s leveled muskets to stop their firing, but it was too late. The misadventure left behind staggering casualties: fourteen dead and twenty-six wounded. Even after the Revolutionary War, Washington said of this star-crossed episode that his life had been “in as much jeopardy as it had ever been before or since.”
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This was now the fourth time that Washington had traversed the path to the Forks of the Ohio, and each time his military aspirations had been foiled by unforeseen developments. For someone of Washington’s dogged nature, the frustration must have been mortifying. The French and Indian War had humbled him with cruel ironies and unexpected setbacks, leaving him more philosophic and reflective. As he wrote a few years later, “Human affairs are always checkered and vicissitudes in this life are rather to be expected than wondered at.”
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When the fall of Fort Duquesne finally came in late November 1758, it was almost anticlimactic. Forbes was about to defer the attack until the following spring when three prisoners disclosed that the French fort was now undermanned. An Indian scout then appeared and told of huge billows of smoke rising from the post. Forbes assembled 2,500 men to take the fort and gave Washington the “brevet,” or honorary rank, of brigadier general for the operation. When this huge force arrived on the scene on November 25, 1758, they found only the charred, smoldering remains of Fort Duquesne. Deserted by their Indian allies, the French had deemed the fort dangerously indefensible, blown it up, and fled by night down the Ohio River. Fort Pitt—the new name paid tribute to William Pitt—would arise on the flaming wreckage of Fort Duquesne. Colonel Bouquet gloated that one reason for the triumph was Forbes’s refusal to capitulate to Braddock’s Road, “which would have been our destruction.”
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The conquest rang down the curtain on Washington’s military tenure after five years of devoted service. With the safety of Virginia’s pioneers and traders temporarily assured, it was an auspicious moment for him to resign his commission and focus his energies on Martha Dandridge Custis and Mount Vernon. His upcoming marriage and service in the House of Burgesses offered a seamless transition into a promising new life. Health reasons also lay behind the resignation. Washington’s dysentery had apparently flared up again, because he described his health as “precarious” that December, having worsened “for many months before, occasioned by an inveterate disorder” in his bowels.
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As word of Washington’s resignation spread, his officers seemed genuinely crestfallen. He had done a superlative job of taking callow recruits, introducing discipline, and spurring them to function as more professional soldiers. His boon companion, Captain Robert Stewart, spoke for many when he wrote to Washington how he would miss “your constant company and conversation in which I have been so long happy.”
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Stewart’s letter confirms Washington’s high stature in Virginia, for he hoped that his friend would “continue the darling of a grateful country [i.e., Virginia] for the many eminent services you have rendered her.”
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Twenty-seven officers from the Virginia Regiment banded together to laud Washington in a farewell message. They extolled the same virtues that would be praised in the Revolutionary War and showed the same tender affection as their later counterparts. They hailed Washington’s “steady adherence to impartial justice” and “invariable regard to merit,” and they credited his “honor and passion for glory” as the source of his military achievements. They also eulogized him as “an excellent commander,” “sincere friend,” and “affable” companion.
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These were mighty tributes to bestow on a twenty-six-year-old. So while Washington might have alienated assorted politicians and generals, he retained the unswerving fealty of his men and the Virginia public at large.

Beneath the hard rind, Washington was far more sensitive than he appeared, and this heartfelt message from his men “affected him exceedingly,” he admitted.
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He had a fine sense of occasion, displayed in this early response to his men. Already adept at tearful farewells, he exhibited the succinct eloquence that came to define his speaking style. He began by calling the officers’ approval of his conduct “an honor that will constitute the greatest happiness of my life and afford in my latest hours the most pleasing reflections.”
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Unable to avoid a youthful dig at Dinwiddie and Forbes, he hinted at the “uncommon difficulties” under which he had labored. But it was the palpable affection he summoned up for his men that made the statement noteworthy. Washington thanked his officers “with uncommon sincerity and true affection for the honor you have done me, for if I have acquired any reputation, it is from you I derive it. I thank you also for the love and regard you have all along shown me. It is in this I am rewarded. It is herein I glory.”
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Had Washington’s military career ended with the French and Indian War, he would have earned scarcely more than a footnote in history, yet it is impossible to imagine his life without this important preamble. The British Empire had committed a major blunder by spurning the talents of such a natural leader. It said something about the imperial system that it could find no satisfactory place for this loyal, able, and ambitious young subject. The proud Washington had been forced to bow and scrape for a regular commission, and it irked him that he had to grovel for recognition. Washington’s military career would be held in abeyance until June 1775, but in the meantime he had acquired a powerful storehouse of grievances that would fuel his later rage with England.

In the fullness of time, Washington would win a prize infinitely more valuable than the royal commission he had lost. As a member of the British forces, he had begun to articulate a comprehensive critique of British fighting methods in North America. For a young man, he had acquired an amazing amount of experience, and these precocious achievements yielded a lasting reservoir of self-confidence. He had proved his toughness and courage in the face of massacres and defeats. He had learned to train and drill regiments and developed a rudimentary sense of military strategy. He had shown a real capacity to lead and take responsibility for fulfilling the most arduous missions. Perhaps most important, his experience in the French and Indian War made him a believer in a strong central government and a vigorous executive. Forced to deal with destructive competition among the colonies, dilatory legislative committees, and squabbling, shortsighted politicians, he had passed through an excellent dress rehearsal for the prolonged ordeal of the American Revolution.