ON GENERAL BRADDOCK’S STAFF.

With the quite liberal provisions now made for the public service, Governor Dinwiddie resolved to increase the army to ten companies of one hundred men each, and capture Fort Duquesne at once. He sent for Washington, now twenty-two years of age, and laid his plan before him.

“It will prove disastrous,” was Washington’s prompt answer, to the surprise of the governor.

“You surprise me!” rejoined the governor. “With a thousand men I thought the fort could easily be captured.”

“But you do not take into account the time required to drill the army and march to the fort,” answered Washington. “Winter will be upon us before we are ready to besiege the fort.”

“I hardly see the need of consuming as much time as you indicate in preparation,” suggested the governor.

“You would understand it if you had had the experience with a half-drilled army through one campaign, as I have had,” replied Washington.

“But your force was a very small one,” suggested Governor Dinwiddie. “With two or three times as many men you will be able to reduce the fort without the drill.”

“My experience rather teaches me that the larger the army the more necessary the drill, in order to handle it efficiently,” Washington replied.

“Then you are opposed to such a campaign now, under any circumstances, if I understand you,” continued the governor.

“My judgment decides against the practicability of such an expedition; nevertheless, I am at your service. My duty is to obey.” This was Washington’s sincere reply.

Governor Dinwiddie was a conceited man, jealous of his own authority, and he did not like to be opposed by such a stripling as Colonel Washington, much less was he willing to abandon a project of his own by the advice of an inferior officer. For this reason he adhered to his original plan, and instructed Washington to fill up his regiment to a thousand as soon as possible. With what feelings Washington undertook this task may be learned from his letter to William Fairfax, Esq., president of Governor Dinwiddie’s council:

“I have orders to complete my regiment, and not a sixpence is sent for that purpose. Can it be imagined that subjects fit for this service, who have been so much impressed with and alarmed at the want of provisions, which was a main objection to enlisting before, will more readily engage now, without money, than they did before with it?... To show you the state of the regiment, I have sent you a report, by which you will perceive what great deficiencies there are of men, arms, tents, kettles, screws (which was a fatal want before), bayonets, cartouch-boxes, and everything else. Again, were our men ever so willing to go, for want of the proper necessaries of life they are now unable to do it. The chief part are almost naked, and scarcely a man has either shoes, stockings, or a hat. These things the merchants will not credit them for. The country has made no provision. They have no money themselves, and it cannot be expected that the officers will engage for them again, personally having suffered greatly on this head already.... There is not a man that has a blanket to secure him from cold or wet.”

That the conceited provincial governor was bent upon having his own way is evident from the fact that he wrote privately to England, and secured the passage of an act that made provincial officers of the army inferior to the English officers in rank. Under this act, Washington’s rank would be that of captain instead of colonel.

“Of course I shall not serve longer in the army under such an arrangement,” said Washington to Mr. Fairfax. “Not that I covet higher rank, but self-respect requires me to throw up my commission.”

“For one, I can never blame you,” replied Fairfax. “The animus of the thing is suited to discourage every soldier in the colony. If England expects the Colonies to fight her battles under such an arrangement, she will be greatly disappointed.”

“So I think,” answered Washington; “and if I do not mistake the temper of the colonists, they will never submit to such injustice; never. It is but the most reasonable thing that provincial troops should be placed upon the same footing as the king’s. They should be as liberally provided for, and enjoy the opportunities of promotion equally with the others.

“Unless they do, England cannot long claim colonies in North America,” added Fairfax.

As indicated by the foregoing, Washington returned his commission, and other officers did the same. The measure which Governor Dinwiddie adopted to bring Washington to terms, and put the army more directly under his own control, suddenly upset his authority. Instead of marching upon Fort Duquesne at once, a speedy abandonment of the enterprise was forced upon him. He could snub Washington, but he could not compel him to recruit and lead the army. Washington retired to private life at Mount Vernon.

Governor Dinwiddie was never in such trouble before. Fort Duquesne haunted him in his sleep. The stripling of a colonel had outwitted his Excellency. What could he do?

The British Government advised a confederacy of the Colonies, believing that “in union there is strength.” Accordingly, a delegate convention was called at Albany, “to form a league with the Six Nations of Indians, and to concert among themselves a plan of united operations for defence against the common enemy.” The New England States, New York, Pennsylvania, and Maryland accepted the proposition, and sent delegates to the convention. A league was formed with the Six Nations, but the convention could not agree upon a plan of common defence acceptable both to the colonies and the British Government. Benjamin Franklin was a member of the convention from Pennsylvania, holding the position of postmaster-general under the king at the time and he presented a plan that was accepted by all the delegates except those from Connecticut. For the want of complete union, the project was abandoned, and the British ministry took the conduct of the war into their own hands. They promptly adopted measures to force the French Government to retire from their advanced position in America.

In January, 1755, General Braddock was sent from Ireland, with two regiments of infantry, well equipped and well drilled. Their arrival aroused the depressed Colonists to enthusiasm. They forgot the troubles that had divided them, and united to expel the French from the country.

General Braddock reported to Governor Dinwiddie at Williamsburg, and laid before him his plans of operation. As the fame of the youthful Washington had reached him in the old country, his thoughts were very naturally directed to him in this interview.

“Where is Colonel Washington,” he inquired. “I long to see him.”

“He is retired from the service, sir,” replied the governor.

“Retired?” exclaimed General Braddock. “Colonel Washington retired? Pray, sir, what is the reason?”

“He was displeased with the king’s order reducing the rank of provincial officers,” answered the governor. And he proceeded to explain the matter in full, without exposing his own agency in the matter. General Braddock heard him through, when he retorted with indignation:

“Colonel Washington is right. It is a shame for the government to issue such an order, and as unjust as it is shameful.”

“But your disciplined troops are far more valuable than an undisciplined force like ours,” suggested the governor.

“Granted,” answered General Braddock; “and so much more credit to Colonel Washington, who handled undisciplined troops so well. He must be a brave and efficient officer.”

“He is,” responded Governor Dinwiddie; “no one disputes that.”

“Then he ought to have the chance for promotion that the king’s officers do,” interrupted the general. “I don’t like such partiality. Colonel Washington must be brought back into service.”

“I should be glad to see him in active service again, and nothing would please our people more,” rejoined the governor. “He is an idol with the Colonists, he has proved himself so loyal, brave, and efficient.”

“Well, where is he? I must see him,” continued General Braddock.

He was told that he was on his farm at Mount Vernon.

“Then he must leave his farm for the service of his country, as Cincinnatus did,” interjected Braddock.

General Braddock addressed a letter to him, soliciting an interview, and appealing to him strongly to give his able services to the “common cause.” He urged him to join his army, and offered him an honorable position upon his staff.

Washington was too much of a patriot to allow his personal grievance to interfere with the defence of his country in these circumstances, and he waited upon General Braddock at Alexandria, and accepted the position. However, he wrote to a friend that it was not altogether patriotism that determined his decision.

“I must be ingenuous enough to confess,” he wrote, “that I am not a little biassed by selfish considerations. To explain: I wish earnestly to attain some knowledge in the military profession, and, believing a more favorable opportunity cannot offer than to serve under an officer of General Braddock’s abilities and experience, it does, you may reasonably suppose, contribute not a little to influence my choice.”

As soon as possible after the arrival of General Braddock, Governor Dinwiddie called a conference of the governors of five Colonies to discuss war measures. The result of the conference was the plan of undertaking three expeditions. “The first of these was to be conducted by Braddock, with the British troops, against Fort Duquesne; the second, under the command of Governor Shirley of Maryland, now honored with the commission of general from the king, was intended for the reduction of the French fort of Niagara, and was composed of American regulars and Indians; the third was an expedition against Crown Point, to be undertaken by a regiment of militia.”

As soon as Washingtons mother learned that her son had decided to join Braddocks army, she hastened to Mount Vernon in great distress.

“I hoped you had quit war forever, George,” she said, “and would be content to look after your farm and mother, without exposing yourself to death any more.”

“A man must be loyal to his country, mother,” replied Washington. “He is not much of a man if he is not willing to risk his life for his country.”

“I will not dispute you, George, on that point,” continued his mother; “but somehow I had got it into my mind that you were through with war, and I was glad of it. I suppose that a mother’s love had more to do with it than patriotism.”

“But you believe in patriotism?” added Washington.

“Of course I do.”

“But do not want your son to be patriotic,” he quickly added, knowing exactly what course to pursue in order to secure his mother’s approval.

“Not so, George,” Mrs. Washington answered. “I honor patriotism, and if it is necessary for you to join the army again, I am willing. As I said, a mother’s love got the better of me for the moment.”

“It does seem necessary for me to go, mother, in the circumstances,” added Washington. “As I am situated the refusal might be easily construed into a lack of patriotism. This is a critical time for the Colonies, when loyalty and patriotism alone can sustain their cause.”

“You are right, my son, and I will heartily withdraw my objections,” responded Mrs. Washington, touched by her son’s devotion to his country. “My prayers are all that I can give to my country, and these it shall have. That God may protect you through all the dangers and hardships of war, and return you in safety, will be my constant prayer. With His blessing you can be a useful man in war, as in peace, and without it you can expect nothing.”

Thus, as before, Washington entered upon the campaign with his mother’s pious benediction. On the 9th of June he left Alexandria with Braddock’s army, recruited to nearly three thousand men. Virginia raised three companies of her best marksmen, who joined the British troops. When the march began, and Washington took in the grand military display, every soldier well clad and equipped, instead of being ragged and poorly armed, he said, “This is the grandest spectacle I ever beheld.”

As another has said, “Not the shabby, discouraging, inglorious war of men without hats and shoes, kettles and bayonets, but the military array of a young officer’s brightest dreams: a host in gallant uniforms, with nodding plumes, the clang of inspiring music, and the dazzling splendor of banners flaunting in the sun. Victory was a thing of course. The want of proper equipment had occasioned defeat and mortification. The presence of everything that a soldier’s heart could wish or his fancy devise was sure to bring triumph that would extinguish all memory of former failure.”

General Braddock was an experienced officer, but he knew nothing of Indian warfare. Evidently he regarded the French as his chief antagonists, and supposed that an easy victory could be won. His conversation with Benjamin Franklin, who visited him, as postmaster-general, to make arrangements for the transmission of the mails to and from the army, reveals much of the general’s character.

“Not a long campaign, I think,” he remarked to Franklin.

“Nevertheless a hard one,” answered Franklin. “In such a country as this, campaigning is attended with serious difficulties.

“But difficulties lessen before experienced officers and soldiers,” responded Braddock.

“Can you give me any idea of your intended progress?” inquired Franklin, for the purpose of drawing him out, and learning what were his real ideas of the country.

“After taking Fort Duquesne,” Braddock replied, “I am to proceed to Niagara; and, having taken that, to Frontenac, if the season will allow, and I suppose it will, for Duquesne can hardly detain me above three or four days; and then I can see nothing to obstruct my march to Niagara.”

“I supposed that it would require a longer time than that to reduce Fort Duquesne,” said Washington. “The French have had ample time to strengthen their fortification.”

“That may be, but I do not apprehend much difficulty in accomplishing my object there,” was the general’s confident reply.

“To be sure, sir,” continued Franklin, “if you arrive well before Duquesne with these fine troops, so well provided with artillery, the fort, though completely fortified and assisted with a very strong garrison, can probably make but a short resistance. The only danger I apprehend of obstruction to your march is from the ambuscades of the Indians, who, by constant practice, are dexterous in laying and executing them; and your slender line of troops, nearly four miles long, which your army must make, may expose it to be attacked by surprise on its flanks, and to be cut like thread into several pieces, which, from their distance, cannot come up in time to support one another.”

General Braddock smiled at what he thought was Franklin’s ignorance, and answered in a self-assuring manner:

“These savages may, indeed, be a formidable enemy to raw American militia; but upon the king’s regular and disciplined troops, sir, it is impossible they should make an impression.”

In describing this interview afterwards, Franklin said sarcastically:

“I was conscious of an impropriety in my disputing with a military man in matters of his profession and said no more.”

Washington was so ill after the army reached the great crossings of the Youghiogeny, that Dr. Craik advised him to stop until he rallied. He had been feverish for several days, and for that reason had ridden in a covered wagon.

“Death is almost inevitable if you continue,” said Dr. Craik. “Stop here until the violence of your fever abates, and then you can come up with Dunbar’s rear division.”

“I think you are unnecessarily alarmed, doctor,” answered Washington. “In a few days I shall be all right. It will be a great trial to me to stop here and not advance with the army.”

“It may prove a greater trial for you to advance,” suggested Dr. Craik. “Rest and quiet may restore you speedily now, but it may be too late three days hence.”

General Braddock also appealed to him.

“You are altogether too unwell to proceed, Colonel Washington,” he said, “and you must not attempt it.”

“But I would not miss being with you at the attack upon Fort Duquesne for five hundred pounds,” replied Washington.

“And you will not if you stop here until you are better; but if you go on, you may be dead and buried by that time, or too sick to participate in the battle,” was the general’s wise answer.

“I will stop here if you will promise that I shall rejoin the army before an engagement,” added Washington.

“I pledge you my word of honor, in the most solemn manner, that it shall be effected.”

Washington remained, soon rallied, and rejoined the army when it was encamped about two miles from the Monongahela River.

Washington had feared disaster, as Franklin did, from Braddock’s ignorance of Indian warfare.

“Let me reconnoitre in advance with the three companies of Virginia marksmen,” he proposed. “We understand the tactics of the savages, and can fight them in their own way.”

Allow me to suggest, young man, that the savages will be of little account before my regulars, was Braddocks haughty answer, evidently thinking that his youthful aid-de-camp was too officious.

“The best disciplined troops are not competent to fight Indians in the Indian way if they have had no experience with savages,” persisted Washington. “The order of battle and the usual rules and tactics of war are of no account here.”

“That may be your opinion and experience,” replied the general, “but you have not had the king’s efficient troops here before. That makes all the difference in the world.”

“Nevertheless,” added Washington, “defeat awaits us unless we are prepared to meet Indians with their own tactics.

Before the army took up its line of march from Alexandria, Washington advised General Braddock not to wait for any wagons to be provided. Braddock had been disappointed in getting a supply of these; and when Dr. Franklin visited him, he bargained with him to purchase in Pennsylvania, and forward at once, a sufficient number of them, with four horses to each wagon.

“Army wagons will be a burden to us instead of a help, much of the way,” said Washington. “The road is narrow and rough, and pack-horses will prove better than wagons.

But these suggestions were unheeded by the haughty British officer, who insisted that his army should be provided for and move in the wilds of America as in the cultivated countries of Europe. He had too much official pride to allow himself to be instructed by a stripling in Virginia.

General Braddock possessed a high temper, and he was excessively fond of intoxicating drinks. With too much temper and too much drink to carry, he often became an overbearing officer. Washington wrote as follows to Mr. Fairfax at one time:

“The general, by frequent breaches of contract, has lost all patience, and for want of that temperance and moderation which should be used by a man of sense upon these occasions, will, I fear, represent us in a light we little deserve; for, instead of blaming individuals, as he ought, he charges all his disappointments to public supineness, and looks upon the country, I believe, as void of honor and honesty. We have frequent disputes on this head, which are maintained with warmth on both sides, especially on his, who is incapable of arguing with or giving up any point he asserts, let it be ever so incompatible with reason or common sense.”

It should be recorded in his favor that General Braddock was a strict disciplinarian in the army. Each regiment was provided with a chaplain, and every soldier was required to attend prayers each day, and on Sunday be present at divine services. He refused to tolerate some practices among his men which are common in armies. The most vicious class of soldiers indulged in a wholesome fear of him.

After Braddock’s army crossed the Monongahela, and were within ten miles of Duquesne, and no sign nor sound of an enemy was seen or heard, Washington grew anxious, and he said:

“General, this silence so near the fort in our country is rather ominous than otherwise. A scouting party ought to go forward. We are liable to find ourselves in an ambuscade of Indians at any moment.”

“Indians have a poor show in the presence of this force,” replied the general. “The king’s troops will show you how to handle savages.

“I will scour the woods in advance with the Virginia provincials if you say the word, general,” Washington continued, apprehending that they were in the very jaws of danger. He knew very well that French and Indian scouts must be near them watching their movements. But Braddock declined his offer and they marched on in European style, “three hundred men under Colonel Gage forming the advanced party, followed by a party of two hundred; and last of all, the general, with the main body, Colonel Duncan leading the rear with supplies.

We should have stated that, in the outset, Indians flocked to the English standard; among them White Thunder Scarooyadi, successor to half-king, who had died, and others, associated with Washington in his former campaign. Silver Heels, so called from his nimbleness, a renowned warrior, came and tendered his services.

Through Washington’s entreaty, General Braddock received the red warriors kindly, with military honors. He made them presents in the name of the king, and they, in turned, danced and sung war songs. But such was Braddock’s demeanor towards them subsequently, that they became displeased; and, when their dissatisfaction was intensified by the improper conduct of some young English officers towards Bright Lightning, the beautiful daughter of White Thunder, they all deserted the army in disgust. When within ten miles of Duquesne, on the ninth day of July, Braddock had no Indians in his command.

Scarooyadi reported to the governor and Council of Pennsylvania, after Braddock’s defeat: “It was owing to the pride and arrogance of that great general who came from England. He is now dead, but he was a bad man when he was alive. He looked upon us as dogs, and would never hear anything that was said to him. We often endeavored to advise him, and tell him of the danger he was in with his soldiers; but he never appeared pleased with us, and that was the reason a great many of our warriors left him.” He proposed to take up the hatchet again with the English, and said:

“Let us unite our strength; you are numerous, and all the English governors along your seashore can raise men enough; but don’t let those that come from over the great seas be concerned any more. They are unfit to fight in the woods. Let us go ourselves, we that came out of this ground.”

Three or four o’clock on that ninth day of July, as the advance of the army was ascending a rise of ground, a volley of musketry suddenly arrested their progress. From a ravine, concealed by dense foliage, a deadly fire was poured into their faces. Before they had recovered from their surprise, another volley was fired into them from the other side. These volleys mowed them down like grass. Yet the enemy could not be seen. The English directed their fire towards the smoke of battle, though but for a moment. For the torrent of lead, shot into their faces, forced the advance back upon the main column, and confusion followed. General Braddock bravely sought to rally them, to move forward in orderly columns, as on European battlefields, but his efforts were abortive; for six hundred Indians, painted and armed for battle and thirsting for blood, burst from their ambuscade, followed by three hundred French and Canadians, sure of victory; and the work of carnage grew terrific.

Early in the conflict two of Braddock’s aides-de-camp, Captains Orme and Morris, fell, and Washington alone remained to carry the general’s orders here and there. Without the least regard to personal safety, he galloped over the field, his tall, noble form presenting a rare target for the Indian sharpshooters, who took special pains to bring him down. Two horses were shot under him, and four balls pierced his clothes; still he was conspicuous everywhere that he could be of service, and for three hours distributed his commander’s orders, with the deadly missiles flying around him like hailstones. Dr. Craik said:

“I expected to see him fall every moment. He dashed over the field, reckless of death, when the bullets whistled about him on every side. Why he was not killed I cannot divine, unless a watchful Providence was preserving him for more important work.”

One of the principal Indian warriors fired at him again and again; and, at his bidding, a score of young braves did the same, without so much as grazing his skin, keeping up their fire until convinced that the Great Spirit had given to him a charmed life that he might not be shot in battle.

Mr. Paulding gives the description of an eye-witness thus:

“I saw him take hold of a brass field-piece as if it had been a stick. He looked like a fury; he tore the sheet-lead from the touch-hole, he placed one hand on the muzzle, the other on the breach; he pulled with this and he pushed with that, and wheeled it round as if it had been nothing. It tore the ground like a plough. The powder monkey rushed up with the fire, and then the cannon began to bark, I tell you. They fought and they fought, and the Indians yelled when the rest of the brass cannon made the bark of the trees fly, and the Indians came down. That place they call Rock Hill, and there they left five hundred men dead on the ground.”

A bullet struck Washington’s gold watch-seal, and knocked it from his chain. Eighty years after the battle that seal was found by a visitor to the battle ground, and it is now preserved among the relics of the Washington family.

The English officers behaved heroically, and won Washington’s admiration by their bravery; but the English soldiers acted like cowards. Panic-stricken in the first place, they did not recover from their consternation during the engagement. The unearthly yells of the savages, which they had never heard before, seemed to terrify them even more than the whistling of bullets. They lost self-control, disregarded the orders of their officers, and ran hither and thither like frightened sheep. Sixty-three of the eighty-five English officers were killed or wounded, a fact that shows how bravely they fought.

General Braddock proved himself a brave and faithful commander. He did all that mortal man could do to save his army, exposing himself to death from first to last. After three hours of hard fighting, during which time four horses were shot under him, he fell, pierced by several bullets, and was borne from the field.

Now the whole command depended upon Washington, who had taken special pains to have the Virginia marksmen fight the Indians after their own fashion. Their effective tactics had saved the English army from complete destruction. And now Washington rallied them afresh, to cover the army in its retreat, bearing their wounded commander as they went.

Mr. Meek’s description of the final contest is so particular and graphic that we quote it here:

“Happily, on the left, where lay the heaviest fire, Washington’s rangers were posted, but not exposed like the British. For, on hearing the savage yells aforesaid, in a moment they flew each to his tree, like the Indians; and, like them, each leveled his rifle, and with as deadly aim. This, through a kind Providence, saved Braddock’s army; for, exulting in their confusion, the savages, grimly painted, and yelling like furies, leaped from their coverts, eager to glut their hellish rage with a total massacre of the British. But, faithful to their friends, Washington’s rangers stepped forth with joy to met the assailants. Then rose a scene sufficient to fill the stoutest heart with horror. Here falls the brave Virginia blue, under the stroke of his nimbler foe; and there, man on man, the Indians perish beneath the furious storm of lead. But who can tell the joy of Washington, when he saw this handful of his despised countrymen thus gallantly defending their British friends, and, by dint of mortal steel, driving back their blood-thirsty assailants? Happy check! for by this time, covered with wounds, Braddock had fallen; his aids and officers, to a man, killed or wounded; and his troops, in hopeless, helpless despair, flying backwards and forwards from the fire of the Indians, like flocks of crowded sheep from the presence of their butchers. Washington alone remained unhurt. Two horses had been killed under him. Showers of bullets had lifted his locks or pierced his regimentals. But still protected by heaven, still supported by a strength not his own, he had continued to fly from quarter to quarter, where his presence was most needed, sometimes animating his rangers, sometimes striving, but in vain, to rally the regulars. ’Twas his lot to be close to the brave but imprudent Braddock when he fell, and assisted to place him in a tumbril, or little cart. As he was laid down, pale and near spent with loss of blood, he faintly said to Washington:

“Well, colonel, what’s to be done now?”

“Retreat, retreat by all means,” answered Washington. “The regulars won’t fight and the rangers are nearly all killed.”

“Poor fellows! poor fellows!” weakly replied the dying general. “Do as you will, colonel, the command is on you.”

“More than half of the army are dead and wounded,” continued Washington, “and retreat is all that is left us. The surviving rangers can cover the retreat of the remnant.”

“Pardon me, colonel for rejecting your counsel, which I now deeply regret,” the general frankly confessed. “I see it now, but it is all over.”

The command of the army reverted to Colonel Dunbar after the fall of Braddock; but he was several miles away, on the other side of the Monongahela, when the disaster occurred, in charge of the rear division and supplies. Hence the authority of Washington for the time being.

When the retreating army recrossed the river and reached Colonel Dunbar, and he learned the extent of the disaster, the wildest confusion followed. Colonel Dunbar proved himself unfit for his position, by losing his self-control, ordering the heavy baggage and supplies to be burned, and hastening the retreat to Fort Necessity.

General Braddock died soon after the shattered army reached Fort Necessity. Tradition says that he died in the arms of Washington, to whom he gave his favorite servant, Bishop, expressing regrets again and again that he had not treated his youthful aid-de-camp with more consideration.

Washington conducted the funeral services over the remains of the British general, and made it a very impressive ceremony. His voice trembled with emotion when he read the Episcopal service, and tears stood in his eyes as he thought of the victory that might have been, instead of the terrible defeat that was.

Subsequent information received by Washington proved that the French at Fort Duquesne celebrated their victory by a drunken carousal, and that they treated their prisoners with great barbarity. Colonel Smith, who was a prisoner there, and an eye-witness, subsequently bore the following testimony, after speaking of the victorious savages returning with the spoils of war, such as grenadiers’ caps, canteens, muskets, swords, bayonets, rich uniforms, and dripping scalps:

“Those that were coming in and those who had arrived kept up a constant firing of small arms, and also of the great guns in the fort, which was accompanied by the most hideous shouts and yells from all quarters, so that it appeared to me as if the infernal regions had broken loose. About sundown I beheld a small party coming in with about a dozen of prisoners, stripped naked, with their hands tied behind their backs. Their faces and parts of their bodies were blackened. These prisoners they burned to death on the banks of the Alleghany River, opposite to the fort. I stood on the walls of the fort until I beheld them begin to burn one of these men. They tied him to a stake and kept touching him with fire-brands, red-hot irons, etc., and he screamed in the most doleful manner. The Indians, in the mean time, were yelling like infernal spirits. As this scene was too shocking for me, I returned to my lodgings both sorry and sore.

“From the best information I could receive, there were only seven Indians and four French killed in this battle. Five hundred British lay dead in the field, besides what were killed in the river, after their retreat. The morning after the battle I saw Braddock’s artillery brought into the fort. The same day, also, I saw several Indians in the dress of British officers, with the sashes, half-moons, laced hats, etc., which the British wore.”

Washington said: “The French are responsible for these atrocious cruelties, for the Indians are their allies, instigated to war by their influence, fighting under their banner, and paid by their money. The burning of our men under the very walls of their fort must have been done by their approval.”

He embraced the first opportunity after the battle, to write to his mother, that she might know of his safety, and be relieved of any anxiety which exaggerated reports might create. His letter to her was dated Fort Cumberland, July 18, 1755, and the first paragraph was:

“As I doubt not but you have heard of our defeat, and, perhaps, had it represented in a worse light, if possible, than it deserves, I have taken this opportunity to give you some account of the engagement as it happened within ten miles of the French fort, on Wednesday, the 9th inst.”

He wrote to his brother:

“The Virginia troops showed a good deal of bravery, and were nearly all killed. The dastardly behavior of those they called regulars exposed all others that were ordered to do their duty to almost certain death. At last, in despite of all the efforts of the officers to the contrary, they ran, as sheep pursued by dogs, and it was impossible to rally them.

“By the all-powerful dispensations of Providence I have been protected beyond all human probability or expectation, for I had four bullets through my coat and two horses shot under me, yet escaped unhurt, although death was leveling my companions on every side of me.”