| abstract
| - My death has not yet quite arrived, but it is near and as inevitable as night follows day. I have felt myself decline for a long time now, but I fear not death. This is what I told Doctor Craik when leaving him instructions to stop the vain attempts that can only delay the inevitable. Soon, I shall join my dearest Martha. The events of my life have swept me towards a destiny I could never have expected as a young man, when I was simply trying to provide for my family following the death of our father. I have had the honour of doing what few men have done — give birth to a nation. I have fought, first as a soldier, then as a president, to forge this nation, to make it strong. And strong it has become, so strong that no force exists that could make it disappear. Even on the brink of death, I feel pride in this. With the little strength I have left, I am adding these words to the notebook I have kept all my life. It tells of events known by all, and others that have remained secret. Who will read these words? I especially think of Connor, the mysterious man who played such a surprising role in my destiny and that of the nation... Who will read my strange story? |-| 4-5=The map of the thirteen American states, neatly arranged along the east coast... I am fascinated by the immensity of the countryside remaining to be explored on our continent... My Virginian compatriots. Brave simple folk – farmers, woodcutters. I admire their tenacity. I enjoyed school, but had to leave this autumn, just before turning sixteen. Since the death of my father four years ago, our lives have become difficult and I must help my family. These last two years, I have studied geometry, trigonometry, logarithms. I am drawn to the precision of numbers, the power they give us to find the best solution to any problem. I was introduced to Lord Fairfax by my dear brother Lawrence. Lord Fairfax is an extraordinary man, one of the most powerful landowners in all of Virginia. It seems he took a liking to me, offering me work as a surveyer on his land. He told me that my riding skills and love of mathematics mean I am perfectly able to do this sort of task. The offer is a good opportunity for me. I am soon to leave for the northern frontier of Virginia, in the valleys of the Allegheny Mountains. Lord Fairfax owns an enormous amount of land there, much of it still unexploited. My work will to be map the region and define lots so that new plantations can be set up. The trip will be rough – I must cross the Allegheny Mountains and a desert before arriving in this savage land, thick with Indians whose hospitality is uncertain. This time, mother has agreed to let me leave. |-| 6-7=15th August 1752, There are times when a man can but watch, stupefied, as the happiness and misery of his destiny closely intertwine. I am only twenty years of age, but in the space of four years my reputation as a surveyor has grown, and I have earned a comfortable amount to provide for my family. This reputation has inspired the government of Virginia, which knows my taste for action and military affairs, to name me adjutant general. It is an immense honour that I also partly owe to the support of Lord Fairfax. It is currently my duty to assemble and train the militia who will defend the frontier of our district against both the encroachment of the French and the ravages caused by the Indians. However, the success I have in this domain is overshadowed by sorrow — my brother Lawrence has just died. I loved and admired him so much. He was the most affectionate, upstanding and dignified brother that one could have asked for. He was only 31, and has left me his estate on Mount Vernon. Now I must face managing Mount Vernon in addition to my military duties. And so I ready myself for the combat that awaits, plunging myself into books of military strategy, training in fencing, and above all listening to the Virginian officers that make up my militia, men of experience who have known war. My militia may be ill-equipped, but once armed they bravely defend that which they hold most dear: their land. We call them the 'minutemen', because they are capable of seizing their rifles and meeting up with their regiment in less than a minute. Lawrence had this beautiful engraving of Mount Vernon made. |-| 8-9=27th June 1754, My war has started, and each day I understand a little better what a complex art it is. For my first mission, I was sent into the Ohio Valley with orders to give a message to the French. The message ordered them to pull out of our territory. I was courteously received by the French commander of Fort Leboeuf, a certain Monsieur Jacques Legardeur de Saint-Pierre. Unfortunately, his good manners were matched by a categorical refusal to abide by our demands. The situation degenerated further in February 1754 when the Canadians seized Prince George, the fort that we had built to reinforce our position in the valley. In May, at Great Meadows, I was finally able to lead a real battle against these Canadian devils. The screaming whistle of bullets flying past me had something strangely captivating to it. We won, but unfortunately the Indian chief Half King accompanying us killed the French commanding officer of the opposing detachment with a throw of his tomahawk. I am told the French consider me responsible for the death of their officer, claiming he was one of their emissaries, and that they have sent a detachment of 500 men to find me... It seems once again I will have the pleasure of hearing the whistle of their bullets! My soldiers: trappers, farmers, a few Indians. A motley collection of Virginians who share a common hatred for the French. |-| 10-11=10th December 1754, While visiting my Masonic Lodge in Fredericksburg, some militia officers introduced me to a British man who proclaims himself a specialist in intelligence. The difficulty I am having in gathering the necessary information for our expeditions has convinced me to listen to this man. For example, this spy has taught me a method for conveying secret messages – it requires placing a mask over a seemingly innocuous letter in order to make the real message appear. An even safer method is code – the coded message is written using reference text that both the sender and recipient of the letter have in their possession. For example, this text about saffron is enough to decypher the coded message on the next page. Crocus Sativus saffron is a plant taken from the Orient. This bulb grows in June and produces a flower that quickly sprouts three elongated stigmas. The flowers are harvested by hand. Once the root has been seperated and the stigmas dried, the latter are turned into a powder of great value. It allows for much freedom of use in cooking, and is much in demand as a spice or colorant that can be employed in medicinal preparations. |-| 12-13=The image of the Eye of Providence could be seen on one page, adjacent to a coded message of three numerical outer rings and one inner numerical ring. The numbers were as follows, working from the outside inwards: >>> 414, 14, 56, 16, 510, 23, 211, 37, 410, 310, 17, 413, 85, 412. |-| 14-15=15th July 1755, Since the month of May, I have been General Edward Braddock's aide-de-camp. This English soldier arrived in America at the beginning of the year to participate in the offensive against the French. I was hoping to learn from this experienced officer how to lead an army to victory. Instead, he helped me lead our men into the worst possible disaster. We were surprised by the French and their Indian allies while crossing the Monongahela River, and the British strategy was completely useless in such wooded terrain. The French massacred us. When the general was seriously wounded, I was forced to organise our troops' retreat. Afterwards, we counted our losses: out of 1,600 men, 456 had been killed. I don't know why I survived: I found four bullets lodged in my coat, and two horses died under me during the battle. General Braddock. His wounds were too severe. A bullet went clean through his arm and lodged itself in his lung. He died on the 13th. |-| 16-17=15th March 1770, I have just learned of the Boston massacre.The irreparable has happened: the English have fired on the Americans. The peace we have known since 1763 is suddenly as faltering as a blind old dog.The Americans feel exploited by the British Crown. Voices are already being raised, asking for greater independence for the colonies. Mr. Benjamin Franklin in particular has written magnificent articles in the press that meet with growing favour amongst the population. In Mount Vernon I am happy, I am married to a wonderful woman, I have successfully farmed our lands and become a respected member in the Virginian House of Burgesses. Will duty force me to abandon this happy life for a new war? Benjamin Franklin published this drawing.The pieces of the snake symbolise the states.The legend says "Join, or Die."Indeed, if the pieces do not reunite, the snake will die... |-| 18-19=The inhabitants of Boston.Obviously, they do not deserve all this suffering. In Boston, a group known as the "Sons of Liberty" has thrown bales of tea into the sea, protesting against the unfair taxes imposed on us by England. Have tensions between the English and the Americans reached the point of no return? |-| 20-23=7th April 1770, Once again I have met with the Englishman, he who made me realise the importance of espionage in the time of war. This time of course, we talked of espionage during peacetime. He is worried – it seems that extremely cunning spies are infiltrating the English camps around Boston. Recent tensions have given rise to many rumours concerning their identities... |-| 24-25=16th June 1775, This time, war will be against the English. They leave us no choice – the sword of a brother has been plunged into the chest of a brother. The plains of America, once happy and peaceful, must now either be covered with blood or inhabited by slaves. The alternatives are deplorable, but could any virtuous man really hesitate? This is why I accepted the post of chief commander of the union's armies yesterday at the Philadelphia congress meeting. In such circumstances, it is a citizen's duty to answer the call of his country without question. One of the brave men at the forefront of the Boston Tea Party in 1773. He is dead. I would have liked to meet him. General Charles Lee.This man will be of great worth to the nation in future conflicts. However, it is whispered that he coveted the post of Commander in Chief that has just been given to me. I hope I need not question his loyalty in this matter.
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