Washington [117]
During the summer of 1774 Washington unburdened his thoughts freely to the Fairfaxes. Black with gloom, he wrote despondently to George William that the Crown was failing to protect Virginia from “cruel and bloodthirsty” Indians in the backcountry, while simultaneously “endeavoring by every piece of art and despotism to fix the shackles of slavery upon us.”14 He made clear that the “cause of Boston . . . now is and ever will be consider[e]d as the cause of America . . . and that we shall not suffer ourselves to be sacrificed by piecemeal, though God only knows what is to become of us.”15 Further souring his mood was that a bitter winter frost had given way to an equally bitter drought. In short, Washington concluded, “since the first settlem[en]t of this colony the minds of people in it never were more disturbed, or our situation so critical, as at present.”16
Washington went on corresponding with George William as if communicating with a kindred spirit. Far different was his tense standoff with his longtime friend Bryan Fairfax, the half brother of George William and a former lieutenant in Washington’s Virginia Regiment. Bryan Fairfax was a grave, austere fellow. In June 1774, when Washington had tried to coax his old foxhunting companion into running with him for the House of Burgesses, it became clear that a political gulf yawned between them. On July 4 Washington sent Bryan a letter that was neither soft-spoken nor conciliatory. Instead of ducking politics out of respect for their friendship, Washington gave an unusually forthright statement of his beliefs. As if the scales had fallen from his eyes, he embraced a conspiratorial view of British intentions. The Crown’s policies weren’t just fumbling or misguided but were part of a settled design to rob the colonists of their ancient liberties. “Does it not appear, as clear as the sun in its meridian brightness, that there is a regular, systematic plan formed to fix the right and practice of taxation upon us? . . . Ought we not then to put our virtue and fortitude to the severest test?”17 George Washington passed here some personal Rubicon. Remarkably, in this fierce letter he argued that the colonists should refrain from purchasing British imports, but not renege on paying debts owed to British creditors, “for I think, whilst we are accusing others of injustice, we should be just ourselves.”18 It was this steadfast sense of fairness, even at the most feverish political moments, that set George Washington apart.
When Bryan Fairfax sent Washington a lengthy reply, defending petitions as the only legitimate means of protest, the hot-blooded Washington didn’t mince words. On July 20 he sent Bryan a truculent letter that recounted the many colonial petitions spurned by Parliament, which had violated both the “law of nature and our constitution . . . I think the Parliament of Great Britain hath no more right to put their hands into my pocket without my consent than I have to put my hands in yours for money.”19 Instead of more petitions, Washington endorsed the nonimportation scheme, “for I am convinc[e]d, as much as I am of my existence, that there is no relief for us but in their distress; and I think, at least I hope, that there is public virtue enough left among us to deny ourselves everything but the bare necessaries of life to accomplish this end.”20 Washington said he would mistrust his own judgment if he didn’t recoil “at the thought of submitting to measures which I think subversive of everything that I ought to hold dear and valuable.”21 Washington’s vision abruptly seemed richer and broader, his words now throbbing with passion. His letters to Bryan Fairfax make clear that, even though he didn’t originate political ideas, he was a quick study who soaked them up rapidly, as he was coached