Another Squirrel

An AI Channels George Washington: A Journey to the Frontier

Following my last experiment with Alexander Hamilton's writings, I decided to push the AI-powered historical research process a step further. This time, my subject was George Washington, a figure whose early life is often overshadowed by his later accomplishments.

The process was similar: I gathered a collection of primary sources, consisting primarily of excerpts from Washington's own diaries and journals spanning over 22 years. I loaded these documents into an AI notebook, giving the model a direct line to Washington's own words, experiences, and thoughts from his formative years.

Then, I gave it a narrative prompt: "Tell a compelling first-hand account of Washington's life surrounding Peril and Adventure on the Western Frontier (1748–1751)."

What follows is the verbatim story generated by the AI, crafted entirely from its understanding of Washington's personal records. It is a fascinating look at how these tools can not only analyze but also synthesize historical data into a compelling, human-sounding narrative.

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Peril and Adventure on the Western Frontier (1748–1751)

My frontier years were defined by a rigorous and often harsh apprenticeship in the wilderness, testing my endurance against the wild lands and the caprices of the weather. These experiences, recorded between 1748 and 1751, involved grueling travel, primitive lodging, and the ever-present threat of physical deprivation.

The Trial by Water and Wind (March–April 1748)

In March of 1747/8 (Old Style calendar dating), I began a journey over the mountains in the company of George Fairfax, Esq., and Mr. James Genn, the surveyor. We traveled hard, covering forty miles on the first day to Mr. George Neavels. Having passed the Blue Ridge and admired the rich land and beautiful groves of Sugar Trees, we pushed on to Frederick Town, where we enjoyed a temporary, yet vital, reprieve. We cleaned ourselves to "get Rid of the Game we had catched the Night before" and enjoyed a "very agreeable regale" that included a good dinner, "Wine & Rum Punch in Plenty," and, a great luxury indeed, a "good Feather Bed with clean Sheets".

This comfort was fleeting. On March 18th, we reached Thomas Barwick’s on the Potomack and found the river "excessively high". The massive amount of rain and melted snow coming down from the Allegany Mountains had raised the water more than six feet above the usual height, rendering it unfordable for days. We were forced to camp out in the field.

Two days later, the river remained unabated, compelling us to a dangerous crossing: we were "obliged" to swim our horses over and pasture them in Maryland. Once across, we proceeded by canoe, and traveled up the Maryland side in a "Continued Rain" to Collo. Cresaps. The road itself was such an ordeal that I noted it was "the Worst Road that ever was trod by Man or Beast". Heavy rain and freshes kept us detained at Cresaps.

The lack of basic refinement in the settlements was astonishing. After spending a day entirely "with the Indians", we continued our journey. We swam our horses over the Mouth of Patersons Creek and crossed ourselves in a canoe. Upon reaching the residence of Solomon Hedges, Esq., a Justice of the Peace, we settled in for the night. I found that at supper, "there was neither a Cloth upon the Table nor a Knife to eat with but as good luck would have it we had Knives of [our] own".

Our work began in earnest near the South Branch. Wilderness sustenance was precarious; though we were lucky one morning when a man returned with two large wild turkeys, we often resorted to the simplest methods. While camped near a large stack of hay below the impassable Trough mountains, we realized our rough condition: "Every[one] was his own Cook. Our Spits was Forked Sticks our Plates was a Large Chip as for Dishes we had none".

The elements seemed intent on driving us out. One Saturday night, disaster nearly struck when the very straw we were sleeping upon "catch’d a Fire," and we were only "luckily Preserv’d" by one of our men awakening just in time. The very next night, the wind was far more "blostering," carrying our tent "Quite of" and obliging us to "Lie the Latter part of the Night without covering". Even the people we met were unfamiliar and strange; the large company accompanying us seemed to be "as Ignorant a Set of People as the Indians," and they spoke "all Dutch".

Finally, on April 7th, after surveying some fifteen hundred acres, I enjoyed a small victory against the harsh conditions: I rode to meet Mr. Fairfax and enjoyed a night in Peter Casseys House, "which was the first Night I had slept in a House since I came to the Branch". Having concluded our work, Mr. Fairfax and I took our leave of the others, traveling "over Hills and Mountains", eventually sighting a Rattled Snake, the first one seen throughout our journey, before I arrived safe at my brother’s house on April 13, 1748.

The Peril of Smallpox in Barbadoes (November 1751)

Three years later, my travels took me away from the cold frontier to Barbadoes in November 1751, facing a different kind of threat—disease. We received a warm welcome from Major Clarke. However, when we were invited to breakfast and dine with him, I felt "some reluctance" because the "smallpox was in his family".

My journey was necessitated by my brother's precarious health. Dr. Hilary, an eminent physician, examined his condition and gave assurances that a cure might "be effectually made". Following the doctor's advice, we rode out "in the cool of the evening" to seek country lodgings, admiring the beautiful prospects of cane, corn, and fruit trees, all "in a delightful green". We spent that evening preoccupied with finding a cure and a safer place to stay.