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