Doubtless, no man in the Colonies was better fitted for this exalted post.  His wealth, his military experience, his social position, his political influence, and his stainless character, exciting veneration without envy, marked out Washington as the leader of the American forces.  On the whole, he was the foremost man in all the land for the work to be done.  In his youth he had been dashing, adventurous, and courageous almost to rashness; but when the vast responsibilities of general-in-chief in a life-and-death struggle weighed upon his mind his character seemed to be modified, and he became cautious, reticent, prudent, distant, and exceedingly dignified.  He allowed no familiarity from the most beloved of his friends and the most faithful of his generals.  He stood out apart from men, cold and reserved in manner, though capable of the warmest affections.  He seemed conscious of his mission and its obligations, resolved to act from the severest sense of duty, fearless of praise or blame, though not indifferent to either.  He had no jealousy of his subordinates.  He selected, so far as he was allowed by Congress, the best men for their particular duties, and with almost unerring instinct.  So far as he had confidants, they were Greene, the ablest of his generals, and Hamilton, the wisest of his counsellors,—­ostensibly his aide-de-camp, but in reality his private secretary, the officer to whom all great men in high position are obliged to confide their political secrets.

Washington was “the embodiment of both virtue and power” in the eyes of his countrymen, who gave him their confidence, and never took it back in the darkest days of their calamities.  On the whole, in spite of calumny and envy, no benefactor was ever more fully trusted,—­supremely fortunate even amid gloom and public duties.  This confidence he strove to merit, as his highest reward.

Such was Washington when, at the age of forty-three, he arrived at Cambridge in Massachusetts, to take command of the American army, a few days after the battle of Bunker Hill, on the 17th June, 1775.

Although the English had been final victors at Bunker Hill, the American militia, behind their intrenchments, under Prescott, had repulsed twice their number of the best soldiers of Europe, and retired at last only for want of ammunition.  Washington was far from being discouraged by the defeat.  His question and comment show his feeling:  “Did the militia fight?  Then the liberties of the country are safe.”  It was his first aim to expel the enemy from Boston, where they were practically surrounded by the hastily collected militia of New England, full of enthusiasm and confidence in the triumph of their cause.  But these forces had been injudiciously placed; they were not properly intrenched; they were imperfectly supplied with arms, ammunition, military stores, uniforms, and everything necessary for an army.  There was no commissary department, nor was any department provided with adequate resources.  The soldiers were inexperienced, raw sons of farmers and mechanics, led by officers who knew but little of scientific warfare, and numbered less than fifteen thousand effective men.  They were undisciplined and full of sectional jealousies, electing, for the most part, their own officers, who were too dependent upon their favor to enforce discipline.