XXVIII
The next morning about nine came Mr. William Fairfax to the inn and said: “There is some trouble about the capitulations, but I do not know what. You are wanted at once by the council.”
Upon this I made haste to reach the palace, wondering what could be the matter.
In the council-chamber were several gentlemen standing, in silence—Mr. Speaker Robinson, Colonel Cary, and my Lord Fairfax, as I was pleased to see, he having arrived that morning to be a guest of Governor Dinwiddie. There were also others, all standing in groups, but who they were I fail now to remember. All of them appeared to be serious as I went in, and there was, of a sudden, silence, except that the governor, a bulky man, very red in the face and of choleric temper, was walking about cursing in a most unseemly way. Lord Fairfax alone received me pleasantly, comingforward to greet me, but no one else did more than bow. The governor came toward me, and holding the capitulations in one hand, struck them with the other hand and cried out: “Explain, sir—explain how you, sir, an officer of the King, came to admit over your signature that you were an assassin, and twice, sir, twice. I consider you disgraced.”
Lord Fairfax laid a hand on my arm to stay me and said:
“Your Excellency, it is not the manner among us to condemn a man unheard; nor, sir, to address a gentleman as you have permitted yourself to do.”
Colonel Cary said: “That, sir, is also my own opinion.” For this I was grateful, because on a former occasion he had himself been lacking in civility.
Then my cousin Willis came across the room and said very low: “Keep yourself quiet, George.”
I bowed and asked to be shown the translation. I read it over with care, while no one spoke. What had been said was correct. For a moment I was too amazed to speak. As I looked up, utterly confounded, Lord Fairfax said: “Well, colonel?”
Upon this I related the facts of the case, and that Captains Mackay and Stephen had heard Van Braam translate the articles, and that he had never used the wordassassination, but, in place of it,death; and that I considered it to have been ignorance on his part, and no worse.
I saw also that, while I had been given to understand by Van Braam that for a year we were pledged not to make any forts on the lands of the King of France, I had really agreed that we were not for that period to do so beyond the mountains.
When I had thus fully accounted for my misapprehension, Lord Fairfax said at once: “Then, gentlemen, this unfortunate mistake and this unlucky pledge were due to the governor’s council having failed to provide Colonel Washington with a competent French interpreter.” I could hardly help smiling at this transfer of the blame to the governor and his advisers. Colonel Byrd laughed outright, as the governor, with a great oath, cried out, “Nonsense, my lord,” and to me, “You should be broke, sir; you are unfit to command.”
Lord Fairfax said quietly, “Be careful of your words, governor.” This stayed hisspeech, but amid entire silence he stood shaking with anger, so that, although his wig was covered with a net, the powder fell over his scarlet coat.
Upon this I threw the capitulations on the table and, with much effort controlling myself, said: “I have explained myself to the honourable council and have no more to say.”
The governor said: “I presume, sir, we must accept your statement.” I replied at once, looking about me: “If any gentleman here doubts it, I—” But on this Colonel Cary said: “I do not. I think the matter cleared, Colonel Washington, and I trust that his Excellency will see that he has spoken in haste.”
Lord Fairfax and Mr. Robinson also spoke to like effect, and with a degree of warmth which set me entirely at ease. The governor, much vexed to be thus taken to task, said in a surly way that he was satisfied and that Van Braam was a traitor, which I declined to believe, also adding that Captain Stephen would be asked to see the governor and confirm my statement.
After this, to my surprise, the governor desired my company at dinner, and seeingLord Fairfax nod to me, I accepted, but with no very good will. The matter ended with a vote of thanks from the House of Burgesses, Van Braam being left out, and also Adjutant Muse, who was considered to have shown cowardice. I was well done with a sorry business.
Indeed, but for the rain, the bad light, and that I had no reason to disbelieve what Van Braam read to us, I should have looked over the paper, where the wordassassin, being as much English as French, must have caught my eye. What seemed to me most strange was that De Villiers should so easily have let go a man whom he professed to consider the murderer of his brother.
When we surrendered the French officers were very civil, and I saw no evidence of unusual enmity, but I do not think I met M. de Villiers.
Van Braam was very much abused and called a traitor, which I neither then nor later believed him to have been. Some few in Virginia blamed me, but since then I have lived through many worse calumnies.
As each nation was casting the blame of warlike action on the other, much was madein France of the death of De Jumonville and the surrender of Fort Necessity.
I was able long afterwards to see the account of this capitulation at Fort Necessity as it was given by the French commander, M. de Villiers. It was quite false, but he could not have known all the facts as to De Jumonville’s conduct nor how the Dutchman Van Braam—as I believe, without intention—misled me. That he was not bribed to do so is shown by the fact that, being held as a hostage, he was long kept in jail in Quebec.
It is to be remarked as worthy of note that only a month ago I should have heard news of this old soldier of fortune. A letter came to me at Mount Vernon in which Van Braam related his wanderings and how at last he had settled down in France, as it would seem, in a prosperous way. He was very flattering to his old pupil, and, for my part, I wish him good luck and a better knowledge of the French tongue than he had when we starved together at the Great Meadows.
I am also reminded as I write that Lieutenant-Colonel Wynne asked leave during the siege of Yorktown to present to me ayoung French nobleman, an officer of the regiment Auvergne, whose name now escapes me. This gentleman’s father had served in Canada under Marquis Montcalm, and before that on the frontier. The conversation fell upon my early service on the Ohio. To my great astonishment, the young gentleman told me that in 1759 a French writer, called, if I remember, Thomas, published a long piece in verse about this unfortunate De Jumonville in America, and how his murder was avenged. I never supposed any one would write poetry concerning me, nor do I believe it will ever happen again.