That same day, with winter fast approaching and no improvement to his condition in sight, Washington quit his Winchester headquarters. He headed home to Mount Vernon, to recuperate or die.
4
Tarnished Victory
Save for servants, Mount Vernon was empty and lonely. At nearby Belvoir, Sally Fairfax was likewise almost alone. To Washington’s great grief, his staunch friend, patron, and surrogate father Colonel William Fairfax had died on September 2, 1757; Sally’s husband, George William, had traveled to England to deal with inheritance matters. Sally knew nothing of Washington’s presence just a few miles away, and, with her husband absent, for reasons of decorum he hesitated to even inform her of it.
It was only after he had been examined by a physician, the Reverend Charles Green of Alexandria, who forbade meat and recommended an insipid diet of “jellies and such kind of food,” that Washington finally took the plunge and wrote to Belvoir, seeking a recipe book and the necessary ingredients. Whether Sally responded to this pitiful appeal is not disclosed in the surviving correspondence. That any contact between them was kept to a minimum, and by Sally’s choice, is suggested by the message that Washington later sent over to Belvoir along with a letter announcing George William Fairfax’s safe arrival in London: this yearned wistfully for the “favor” of a visit from her.1
The New Year brought little improvement to Washington’s condition. When, in January 1758, he set out for Williamsburg to avail himself of its wider medical knowledge, he fell so ill on the way that he was obliged to turn back. As spring came on, Washington had grounds to fear “an approaching decay” and that, like his beloved half brother Lawrence, he faced a lingering cough-racked death by consumption. Reporting to his immediate superior officer, Colonel Stanwix of the Royal Americans, Washington lamented that his ruined constitution had quashed any last “prospect of preferment in a military life”; under the circumstances, it was perhaps better that he should resign his command, making way for another, more capable person whose efforts might be crowned by greater success.2
Despite such pessimistic predictions, in early March 1758, Washington finally managed to complete the painful journey to Williamsburg. There, he consulted Virginia’s most eminent physician, Dr. John Amson. His pronouncement that George was in no obvious danger acted like a powerful tonic upon him. Reprieved from an early grave, his thoughts now turned to the future in general, and to matrimony in particular.
Washington’s infatuation with Sally Fairfax is clear evidence of his fondness for women. But Sally was unobtainable, and, as already noted, his approaches were confined to those of a knight-errant espousing an idealized “courtly love.” That Washington was attracted to females on the earthlier level to be expected from a young man in his early twenties is strongly suggested by a lascivious letter from his close friend George Mercer, sent from South Carolina during the previous summer. Not only did Charleston’s buildings compare unfavorably with Williamsburg’s, but the local “fair ones” were also, in Mercer’s opinion, “very far inferior to the beauties” of Virginia. The Carolina girls were wary of encouraging advances, fearing the “multiplicity of scandal” in their gossip-fueled society; in any event, Mercer was scarcely tempted to try his luck. Employing breathless language that surely indicates that this cannot have been the first time that he and his colonel had discussed such matters, Mercer observed: “Many of them are crooked and have a very bad air and not those enticing, heaving, throbbing, alluring letch, exciting, plump breasts common with our northern belles.”3
On his way to consult Dr. Amson, Washington had called at White House in New Kent County, the home of the recently widowed Martha Dandridge Custis. Returning from Williamsburg with a clean bill of health, the reinvigorated Washington felt strong enough to start courting her in earnest. Whether the twenty-six-year-old widow of Daniel Parke Custis matched Mercer’s physical criteria for Virginian womanhood is unclear from surviving portraits, but her other attractions were certainly ample enough: with an estate assessed at the best part of £24,000, she was one of the colony’s wealthiest matches.
Through her family, Martha enjoyed connections that may have exerted further appeal for an ambitious young gentleman driven by notions of martial glory. Martha’s uncle, William Dandridge, had served in the Royal Navy, and, like Captain Lawrence Washington, saw action during the ill-fated expedition to Cartagena. In addition, her late husband’s grandfather, the Virginian-born Daniel Parke II, had climbed high within the British Army, and was present at one of the era’s pivotal battles as aide-de-camp to none other than John Churchill, the legendary Duke of Marlborough. When Marlborough drubbed the French and Bavarians at Blenheim in 1704, it was Colonel Parke who had been granted the singular honor of delivering news of the victory to Queen Anne. When he finally arrived at Windsor Castle after an eight-day journey, Parke showed his monarch the duke’s first unofficial announcement of his victory, famously scribbled to his wife Sarah on the back of a tavern bill, then gave her his own eyewitness account of events. The customary reward for the bearer of such momentous tidings was 500 guineas, but Parke artfully asked for his delighted monarch’s miniature instead. The colonel’s unorthodox request paid off handsomely: the queen’s portrait came in a diamond-studded golden locket and was accompanied by 1,000 guineas. Despite this spectacular high point of distinction, Parke’s subsequent career was dogged by disappointment, scandal, and tragedy. Hoping for appointment as royal governor of his native Virginia, to his intense chagrin Parke was instead posted to the far-flung, lawless and unhealthy Leeward Islands. There, his bitterness gave vent to debauchery: he reputedly proved so rapacious toward the islanders’ wives and daughters that in 1710, on Antigua, their outraged menfolk lost patience, rioted, and lynched him. For all his brutal and ignominious end, Colonel Parke had nonetheless penetrated the privileged inner circles of Britain’s military and imperial establishment. A reminder of that fact was a fine portrait of Parke in his dashing prime, red coated, bewigged, and flaunting his miniature of Queen Anne, which looked down on Washington when he came courting at White House; given his own repeated but fruitless attempts to infiltrate the ranks of the British Army, it must surely have stirred both interest and envy.4
The strapping and confident Washington clearly made a favorable impression upon the diminutive Martha, who was less than five feet tall. Within a month of first calling upon her, he apparently made a formal proposal of marriage and was accepted. Martha Custis was accompanied not only by a sizable fortune, but by two children. John and Martha, familiarly known as “Jacky” and “Patsy,” were aged four and two: Washington’s forthcoming marriage would bring with it a ready-made family and the responsibilities of a stepfather. Soon after resuming his command at Fort Loudoun, Winchester, in early April, Washington ordered what was in all likelihood his wedding suit. By the first ship bound for Virginia, Richard Washington in London was instructed to send enough “of the best superfine blue cotton velvet as will make a coat, waistcoat and breeches for a tall man with a fine silk button to suit it and all other necessary trimmings and linings together with garters for the breeches.”5
By then the military situation, like Washington’s own domestic prospects, had undergone a dramatic transformation. The new ministry in London, fronted by the energetic and charismatic Pitt, was determined to change Britain’s dismal record in North America. Discredited by his failure to deliver a victorious offensive, Lord Loudoun was recalled in March 1758 and replaced by his fellow Scot, Major General James Abercromby. In essence, however, Pitt’s strategy for the coming campaign followed a blueprint that Loudoun had already prepared in February, which sought to learn from the bitter lessons of the previous year.6 Instead of one main thrust against New France, there would now be three: besides a fresh seaborne expedition bound for Louisbourg, another large army would proceed against Montreal and Quebec via the Champlain Valley; in addition, and as Washington had long urged to anyone willing to listen, there would be a new attempt to take
Fort Duquesne and belatedly avenge Braddock’s defeat.7
The renewed Ohio offensive was to be led by the fifty-year-old Brigadier General John Forbes, an experienced and tactful Scot who offered a striking contrast to the bluff and outspoken Braddock. His army, which, on paper at least, was almost three times the size of that assembled in 1755, would include a kernel of British regular troops. These redcoats were all newly raised: thirteen companies of Montgomery’s Highlanders and four of the Royal Americans. Both of these units were unconventional by British Army standards: Montgomery’s was overwhelmingly composed of Gaelic-speaking Scottish Highlanders, while the Royal Americans mustered a mixed bag of manpower, including many Germans recruited in Europe and Pennsylvania. The remaining two-thirds of Forbes’s projected 6,000-strong force would be composed of provincials from Pennsylvania and Virginia, with smaller contingents from Maryland, North Carolina, and Delaware.
For the coming campaign, Virginia resolved to raise a second regiment, appointing the prominent planter William Byrd III, who had served as a volunteer aide to Loudoun, as its colonel. This decision to double the Old Dominion’s manpower to 2,000, which flew in the face of its previous niggardly defense policy, resulted from Pitt’s unexpected announcement that the costs involved in equipping and maintaining all American provincial forces would henceforth be met by His Britannic Majesty’s government, with other expenses to be reimbursed in due course.8 Virginia’s resulting readiness to pay generous enlistment bounties in 1758 ensured that both of its regiments were brought up to strength with genuine volunteers rather than truculent conscripts. But while Pitt’s openhandedness worked an immediate and positive impact upon colonial willingness to support the Mother Country’s war effort, it had unforeseen consequences that would ultimately prove disastrous for British North America.
By April 1758, Washington’s health was restored, and he clearly hoped to play a prominent part in the coming campaign. Congratulating Colonel Stanwix on his promotion to brigadier general, Washington asked him to mention his name to Forbes—not as one who sought further advancement, but rather as “a person who would gladly be distinguished in some measure from the common run of provincial officers,” of whom he understood there was to be “a motley herd.” Asking the same favor of his old friend Thomas Gage, who was now colonel of a newly formed regiment of light infantry, Washington felt the request was not unreasonable: after all, he had “been much longer in the service than any provincial officer in America.”9
Washington’s eagerness to serve was increased by another of Pitt’s initiatives, aimed at soothing relations between British regulars and their colonial colleagues: this tackled the vexing problem of relative “rank” by stipulating that for the future all provincial officers—including majors, lieutenant colonels and full colonels—would only be subject to orders from regulars of their own grade or above.10
For a man like Washington, who had twice failed to exert his authority over men holding, or claiming to hold, a royal captain’s commission, this was a crucial concession. A regular colonel would still outrank a colonial one, but that was a realistic ruling and accepted as such. For all the enduring stereotypes of bumbling port-soaked majors or smooth-cheeked foppish ensigns looking down their powdered noses at savvy colonials, the typical British officer rose through merit and hard service. Even though most commissions were bought for set fees, progression up the chain of seniority was only permitted if the candidate had experience to match the responsibility. By contrast, many provincial captains, particularly in New England, were simply “elected” by the men of the companies they would lead, a selection process often based on personal popularity rather than military capacity. Indeed, Washington himself had gained the coveted rank of major at the stroke of Governor Dinwiddie’s pen for nothing more dangerous than agreeing to oversee militia musters; a regular officer might face fifteen or more years of hard and bloody service, rising from ensign to lieutenant and then captain under the gimlet eye of King George II before achieving equivalent status, if he ever did. It was only right and proper that when British and colonial officers of similar rank served together in America, the regular should take seniority.
During the spring of 1758, while Washington remained at Winchester, General Forbes established his headquarters at Philadelphia, slowly assembling the various components of his expedition. As Lord Loudoun’s adjutant general in 1757, Forbes was a specialist in logistics, but, like Braddock before him, he was soon exasperated by the cynical double-dealing he encountered as he tried to amass the wagons and supplies needed to move his army westward.
Recruiting reliable Indian allies for the coming offensive was another headache. During his stint as Loudoun’s right-hand man, Forbes had also been at the forefront of attempts to adapt the British Army for war in the American backwoods and well knew the value of tribal allies. Forbes was therefore delighted to learn that a powerful force of southern Indians—Cherokees and Catawbas—had converged upon Winchester to join his campaign. When Washington wrote to Brigadier Stanwix on April 10, some 500 warriors had already reached the little Shenandoah Valley town, mostly setting off to seek the enemy on the frontiers of Virginia and Maryland. More were on their way. Drawing upon hard experience, Washington warned that it would prove difficult to retain these warriors’ services unless Forbes’s campaign started promptly. If there were delays and the Indians went home, then no words could express how much they would be missed. In Washington’s opinion, the security of Forbes’s army as it marched against Fort Duquesne would depend upon the assistance of tribal allies, making their management “an affair of great importance,” demanding “the closest attention of the commanding officer” himself.11
Forbes was unschooled in the etiquette of Indian diplomacy, but to his dismay and growing anger, neither of Britain’s official Indian superintendents, Sir William Johnson and Edmond Atkin, or even their deputies, was willing to help manage these capricious warriors. True to form, the Cherokees demanded a steady supply of costly presents and provisions. Expecting Forbes’s main army to muster and march immediately, they grew bored and drifted home as the weeks dragged by with no hint of an offensive. Struggling with paperwork in distant Philadelphia, Forbes could do nothing as the most formidable force of Indians yet assembled to aid a British army dwindled away to just a few score warriors.
Given Washington’s experience of frontier warfare, Forbes counted upon him and his veteran Virginians to play a key role in the coming campaign. Back in March, on hearing rumors of Washington’s resignation, Forbes had written to Virginia’s acting governor, John Blair, expressing his disappointment at losing a soldier with “the character of a good and knowing officer in the back countries.” Greatly flattered, Washington thanked Forbes heartily for this good opinion when he wrote to congratulate him “on the promising prospect of a glorious campaign.” Forbes’s faith in Washington and his men was bolstered by the verdict of his quartermaster general, that notoriously quarrelsome and picky survivor of Braddock’s expedition, Sir John St. Clair. He had seen four companies of the 1st Virginia Regiment at Winchester, observing that, if the other six were as good, Forbes could “expect a great deal of service” from a unit that did honor to its colonel.12
St. Clair’s assessment testifies to Washington’s determined efforts to shape his regiment into an elite unit. His success in doing so had already been apparent in Charleston during the previous summer, where the two companies sent there under Adam Stephen and George Mercer had impressed the Royal Americans. According to Mercer, these regulars had expected “to see a parcel of ragged, disorderly fellows headed by officers of their own stamp (like the rest of the provincials they had seen).” Instead, they had encountered “men properly disposed who made a good and soldier-like appearance”; who were capable of performing “in every particular as well as could be expected from any troops”; and under officers who were clearly gentlemen, complete with sashes and gorgets to denote their rank, “genteel uniforms,” and with swords properly h
ung and hats smartly cocked. By dint of such efficiency and élan, Washington’s men had “lost that common appellation of provincials”; instead, they were distinguished by “the style and title of the detachment of the Virginia Regiment.” As Lieutenant Colonel Stephen proudly reported to Washington, his men were both well disciplined and versatile, “and have this advantage of all other troops in America, that they know the parade as well as Prussians, and the fighting in a close country as well as Tartars.”13 Even allowing for some boasting by his subordinates, Washington had forged an unusually flexible and efficient formation, skilled in both regular and irregular warfare: this was precisely the versatility that Lord Loudoun had sought to instill within his own redcoat battalions.
At the start of the 1758 campaign, therefore, Washington’s stock with Forbes stood high. But for reasons concerned less with strategy than with colonial politics he was soon to forfeit much of that goodwill. Forbes’s original plan had envisaged advancing from Philadelphia via the Pennsylvanian settlements of Carlisle and Raystown to Fort Cumberland in Maryland. From there, his army would follow the existing road to Fort Duquesne, painstakingly created by Braddock’s doomed command three years earlier. Even at this early stage, the mere fact that Forbes’s troops would concentrate on Conococheague Creek, within Pennsylvanian territory, was enough to set Washington’s Virginian hackles rising. On April 18, he wrote to St. Clair, warning that the Indians would take umbrage, as they had long been accustomed to resort to Winchester, leaving from and returning to Fort Loudoun there. This objection merely hinted at a far greater controversy to come, which would “cast its shadow” over Washington’s role in the 1758 campaign.14
Brigadier General Forbes was seriously ill at the opening of his expedition, and became more so as it progressed; tormented by the all-too-prevalent “flux,” it is possible that he was also suffering from stomach cancer. Like so many other Scots to be found on the Appalachian frontier during the 1750s—men like Adam Stephen and James Craik of the Virginia Regiment—Forbes had studied medicine before gaining his first commission, and he now took a grim professional pleasure in chronicling his own ailments. Battling sickness as much the enemy, he was obliged to orchestrate his campaign from the rear, entrusting frontline leadership to his second in command, the thirty-nine-year-old Lieutenant Colonel Henri Bouquet of the Royal American Regiment. Bouquet was an excellent choice for the job. Born in Switzerland, like many of his countrymen Bouquet learned his trade as a mercenary: before becoming an officer of King George II he had held commissions in the armies of Sardinia and the Dutch Republic. During the previous autumn Bouquet had commanded at Charleston, South Carolina, establishing a rapport with the officers of the two companies of Washington’s regiment who had been sent there by Loudoun.
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