For no one questioned Braddock’s success if he could once throw that army across the mountains. No one knew the situation better than Washington, and early in the campaign he wrote his brother: “As to any danger from the enemy, I look upon it as trifling.” In London profane wits cited Scripture (Ezekiel xxxv: 1-10) to justify the conquest of the Ohio valley: “Moreover, the word of the Lord came unto me saying, Son of man, set thy face against Mount Seir and prophesy against it, and say unto it, thus saith the Lord God: Behold, O mount Seir, I am against thee and I will stretch out mine hand against thee and I will make thee most desolate.... Because thou hast said, These two nations and these two countries shall be mine, and we will possess it.” Already subscription papers were being passed about in Philadelphia to provide festal fires to illumine the Quaker City when the news of Braddock’s victory came.
“Why, the d—l,” exclaimed one of the enthusiasts to that odd man Franklin who did not sign his name at once, “you surely don’t suppose the fort will not be taken?” “I don’t know it will not be taken,” replied the Postmaster-General, “but I know that the events of war are subject to great uncertainty.” A jingling ballad in Chester County, Pennsylvania, was spreading throughout the frontier. It ran, in part:
To arms, to arms! my jolly grenadiers!
Hark, how the drums do roll it along!
To horse, to horse, with valiant good cheer;
We’ll meet our proud foe, before it is long.
Let not your courage fail you:
Be valiant, stout and bold;
And it will soon avail you,
My loyal hearts of gold.
Huzzah, my valiant countrymen!—again I say huzzah!
’Tis nobly done—the day’s our own—huzzah, huzzah!
March on, march on, brave Braddock leads the foremost;
The battle is begun as you may fairly see.
Stand firm, be bold, and it will soon be over;
We’ll soon gain the field from our proud enemy.
A squadron now appears, my boys;
If that they do but stand!
Boys, never fear, be sure you mind
The word of command!
Huzzah, my valiant countrymen!—again I say huzzah!
’Tis nobly done—the day’s our own—huzzah, huzzah!
Before daybreak on the morning of the fatal ninth Lieutenant Colonel Gage moved to the Monongahela to secure the two fords the army was to use on the last day’s march. At four o’clock Sir John St. Clair with two hundred and fifty men went forward to prepare the roads. At five Braddock advanced and made the first crossing at eight o’clock. He then formed his army for a triumphant march to the second ford and on to Fort Duquesne. It had been feared that, however weak, Contrecœur would attempt to defend this ford of the Monongahela. But this fear was dissipated on receipt of the news that Gage held the second ford.
Contrecœur knew it would be foolhardy to give Braddock battle. He was in no mind to waste his men futilely. He knew an honorable capitulation was all for which he could hope. But on the 8th a captain of the regulars, M. de Beaujeu, asked leave to go out with a band to oppose Braddock’s passage of the Monongahela. Reluctantly, it is said, Contrecœur gave his permission and, the whole garrison desiring to attend Beaujeu, the commander detailed him selected troops on the condition that he could obtain the assistance of the Indians who were about the fort.
The impetuous Beaujeu hurried off to the Indians and unfolded his plan to them. But they were afraid of Braddock; some of them had even gone into the English camp, at Cumberland, or in the mountains, on pretense of joining the English army; they had seen the long lines of grenadiers and wagons laden with cannon.
“How, my Father,” they replied, “are you so bent upon death that you would also sacrifice us? With our eight hundred men do you ask us to attack four thousand English? Truly, this is not the saying of a wise man. But we will lay up what we have heard, and tomorrow you shall know our thoughts.”
Baffled, Beaujeu withdrew while the redskinned allies of the French frittered away the hours in debate—and the spies brought word that Braddock was encamped in Long Run valley. The indomitable Beaujeu, however, went and examined the ground at the ford of the Monongahela, which Braddock would pass on the next day. On the ninth, however, the Indians brought word that they would not join in the unequal contest.
But even as they spoke an Indian scout came running down the narrow trail toward the fort. He brought the news of Braddock’s advance on the Monongahela fords. Beaujeu, cunning actor, played his last card desperately and well:
“I am determined,” he cried, “to go out against the enemy; I am certain of victory. What! will you suffer your father to depart alone?”