(from George Washington,
The Journal of Major George Washington, 1754)
GOVERNOR DINWIDDIE of Virginia made an extraordinary choice when he selected his man to warn the French, thrusting south from Canada, against building forts in British territory. He picked George Washington, then only twenty-one years old. Fort Duquesne (on the site of present-day Pittsburgh) was the most strategic of all these forts, planned or actual. A French fort there would effectively block the “Gateway to the West” for Virginia and Pennsylvania. France’s grand strategy was to develop a series of forts along the Allegheny and Ohio Rivers, then down the Mississippi to Louisiana, confining the British to the eastern seaboard.
On November 14, 1753, Washington set out with horses, baggage, four hostlers and orderlies, the frontiersman Christopher Gist, and a Dutch soldier who said he could speak French. The trip was arduous and dangerous. The trail was through forests and along waterways harboring friendly and hostile Indians. Winter was closing upon them. On December 4 Washington rode into Venango, Pennsylvania. The French received him courteously and sent him on to meet their senior officer, Legardeur de St. Pierre, at Fort LeBoeuf on French Creek near Erie. St. Pierre rejected Dunwoodie’s demands. “He told me that the country belonged [to the French],” reported Washington, “that no Englishman has the right to trade upon these waters; and that he had orders to make every person prisoner who attempted it on the Ohio, or the waters of it.”
To make the trip, young Washington had to be physically tough and frontierwise. Psychologically, he must have had a certain gravitas to be chosen to represent the authorities of Virginia to the French and reinforce the impression that the British just might back up their warning by force of arms. In fact they did. Six months later Washington returned to attack the French at Great Meadows—the first engagement of the French and Indian War (1754–1763).
Washington left Fort LeBoeuf on December 16 carrying St. Pierre’s written rebuff. At Venango, where he had left his horses, he found them too fatigued to rely on, states his report—which was published in 1754 under the title The Journal of Major George Washington: Sent by the Honorable Robert Dinwiddie, Esq., His Majesty’s Lieutenant-Governor, and Commander in Chief of Virginia, to the Commandant of the French Forces on [the] Ohio.
OUR HORSES were now so weak and feeble, and the baggage so heavy (as we obliged to provide all the necessaries which the journey would require) that we doubted much their performing it. Therefore, myself and others (except the drivers who were obliged to ride) gave up our horses for packs, to assist along with the baggage. I put myself in an Indian walking dress, and continued with them for three days, until I found there was no probability of their getting home in any reasonable time. The cold increased very fast, and the roads were becoming much worse by a deep snow, continually freezing. Therefore, I was uneasy to get back to make a report of my proceedings to His Honor the Governor, I determined to prosecute my journey the nearest way through the woods on foot…
I took my necessary papers, pulled off my clothes, and tied my self up in a match coat. Then with gun in hand and pack at my back, in which there were my papers and provisions, I set out with Mr. Gist, fitted in the same manner.
On Wednesday, the following day, December 26th, just after we had passed a place called Murdering-Town (where we intended to quit the path, and steer across the country for Shannapins town) when we fell-in with a party of French Indians, who had lain in wait for us.
One of them had fired at Mr. Gist or me, not 15 steps off, but fortunately missed. We took this fellow into custody, and kept him until about nine o’clock that night. Then we let him go, and walked all the remaining part of the night without making any stop …that we might get the start, so far as to be out of the reach of their pursuit the next day, since we were well assured that they would follow our track as soon as it was light. The next day we continued traveling until quite dark, and got to the river about two miles above Shannapins.
We expected to have found the river frozen, but it was not—only about 50 yards from each shore. The ice, I suppose, had broken up above, for it was drifting in vast quantities.
There was no way for getting over, but on a raft. Which we set about making, with but one poor hatchet, and finished just after sun setting. This was a whole day’s work. We got it launched, and went on board it. Then set off.
But before we were half way over, we were jammed in the ice, in such a manner that we expected every moment that our raft to sink, and ourselves to perish. I put out my setting pole to try to stop the raft, so that the ice might pass by. The rapidity of the stream threw the raft with so much violence against the pole, that it jerked me out into ten feet of water. But fortunately I saved myself by catching hold of one of the raft’s logs.
Notwithstanding all our efforts we could not get the raft to either shore, but were obliged, as we were near an island, to quit our raft and make for it.
The cold was so extremely severe, that Mr. Gist had all his fingers and some of his toes frozen. The water was frozen so hard, that we found no difficulty the next morning of getting off the island on the ice, and we went to Mr. Frazier’s….
As we intend to take horses here, and it required some time to find them, I went up about three miles to the mouth of the Yaughyaughane to visit Queen Alliquippa, who had expressed great concern that we’d passed her in going to the Fort. I made her a present of a match coat and a bottle of rum, which latter was thought much the better present of the two.
Tuesday, the 1st day of January, we left Mr. Frazier’s house, and arrived at Mr. Gist’s at Monongahela on the 2nd.
NOTE:—Murdering Town was on a tributary of the Connoquenessing in what is now the southwestern part of Butler County. Shannapins was an Indian village on the Allegheny, near the foot of Thirty-third Street, Pittsburgh. The island was Wainwright’s, which is now part of the mainland.