On Friday morning, June 16, John Hancock officially announced that George Washington had been chosen "General and Commander in Chief of the army of the United Colonies."
Washington stood humbly at his seat during his reply. There was to be no chest-thumping from the new commander; this wasn't the Man on Horseback that every good republican dreaded. "Mr President," he said, "though I am truly sensible of the high honor done me in this appointment, yet I feel great distress from a consciousness that my abilities and military experience may not be equal to the extensive and important trust. However, as the congress desire it, I will enter upon the momentous duty and exert every power I possess in their service and for the support of the glorious cause."
Washington's speech was rife with disclaimers; he had long ago perfected the technique of lowering expectations. "But, lest some unlucky event should happen, unfavorably to my reputation," he went on, "I beg it may be remembered by every Gentleman in the room that I this day declare, with utmost sincerity, I do not think myself equal to the command I am honored with."
Then he made the proudly aristocratic gesture he had already practiced during the Braddock campaign -- he waived the proposed salary of five hundred dollars a month: "As to pay, sir, I beg leave to assure the Congress that as no pecuniary consideration could have tempted me to have accepted this arduous employment at the expense of my domestic ease and happiness, I do not wish to make any profit from it. I will keep an exact account of my expenses; those I doubt not they will discharge and that is all I desire."
... While some of Washington's humility can be traced to political calculation, it also reflected his frank admission that he lacked the requisite experience to take on the British Empire. It was both a gratifying and a terrifying moment for a man who was such a bundle of confidence and insecurity. Preoccupied, as always, with his sense of personal honor -- his calling card as a gentleman -- he feared disgrace as well as failure. When he ran into Patrick Henry after his appointment, an emotional Washington seemed full of foreboding. "Remember, Mr. Henry, what I now tell you: from the day I enter upon the command of the American armies, I date my fall, and the ruin of my reputation." Henry said that Washington's eyes were full of tears -- one of many times when, under stress, he betrayed his underlying emotions.
-- Ron Chernow, Washington: A Life, Chapter 16: The Glorious Cause, pp. 187-188.