Washington pressed rapidly on toward the army in Cambridge. As he left General Schuyler behind, narrowly to watch the progress of affairs, he said to him:
“If forcible measures are judged necessary respecting the Governor, I should have no difficulty in ordering them, if the Continental Congress were not sitting. But as that is the case, and the seizing of a governor quite a new thing. I must refer you to that body for direction.”
Washington left New York on the 26th. General Lee accompanied him. He was escorted as far as Kingsbridge by several companies of militia, and a squadron of Philadelphia light horse. The Massachusetts Assembly was in session at Watertown. They were making vigorous preparations for the reception of the Commander-in-Chief. The residence of the president of the Provincial Congress, at Cambridge, was fitted up for his head-quarters.[88] As Washington pressed on his way, he was escorted from town to town by volunteer companies and cavalcades of gentlemen.
On the 2d of July he reached Watertown, where he was greeted with the warmest congratulations, while, at the same time, he was told that he had come to take command of fragmentary bands of soldiers, poorly equipped, entirely unorganized, and quite ignorant of military discipline. It was three miles to the central camp in Cambridge.
Washington rode over, escorted by a troop of light horse and a cavalcade of citizens. His fame had preceded him. Officers, soldiers, and citizens were alike eager to see the man, in whose hands the destinies of our country seemed to be placed. No one was disappointed. Mrs. John Adams, one of the noblest of the patriotic women of America, witnessed the scene. She wrote to her husband, who had nominated him for this important post:
“Dignity, ease, and complacency, the gentleman and the soldier, look agreeably blended in him. Modesty marks every line and feature of his face. These lines of Dryden instantly occurred to me.
“‘Mark his majestic fabric! He’s a temple
Sacred by birth, and built by hands divine;
His soul’s the deity that lodges there;
Nor is the pile unworthy of the God.’”
Washington was fully awake to the fearful responsibilities now devolving upon him. General Gage held his head-quarters in Boston, sustained by a squadron of light horse and several companies of infantry and artillery. The bulk of his army had taken its stand on Bunker’s Hill, where the troops were busy in strengthening their works, so as to render the position impregnable. Another strong party was on the neck of land between Boston and Roxbury. A deep intrenchment ran across the neck, which was bristling with cannon, and with the bayonets of the regular troops who guarded all the approaches. A fleet of British war ships was in the harbor.
The American lines extended entirely around Boston and Charleston, from Mystic river to Dorchester. The distance was about twelve miles. Plain farmers, many of them in their working attire, had seized their muskets, and, in the month of June so important to all their agricultural interests, had abandoned their fields to engage in the revolting employments of war. They were gathering from Massachusetts, Connecticut, Rhode Island, and New Hampshire. From the far-away banks of the Potomac George Washington had come, to place himself at the head of the sons of New England, struggling in the defence of the dearest of all earthly rights.
On the morning of the 3d of July Washington took formal command of the army. It was a solemn hour. There was no boasting; no exultation. The troops were drawn up, upon Cambridge Common. An immense crowd of spectators had assembled from the country all around. Washington, as he rode upon the ground, was accompanied by General Lee and a numerous suite. He took his stand under the shade of a venerable elm, probably one of the primeval forest when he reviewed those heroic men, who had no love for war, whose hearts were yearning for their peaceful homes, but who were ready to sacrifice life itself rather than surrender their infant country to the despotism of its ruthless oppressor.