Part 3 (1/2)
It is rather odd to find that General Charles Lee, of whom we know so little, and that little scarcely to his credit, occupied in the military court of the American array a position second only to Was.h.i.+ngton; he was appointed a major-general on June 17, 1775, a date marked for us by the fact that Bunker Hill's battle was then fought. Not long after his arrival at the camp, General Lee, with that tendency to independent action which was afterward to work to his undoing, took up his quarters in the Royall house. And Lee it was who gave to the fine old place the name Hobgoblin Hall. From this mansion, emphatically remote from Lee's command, the eccentric general was summarily recalled by his commander-in-chief, then, as ever after, quick to administer to this major-general what he conceived to be needed reproof.
The house in which General Lee next resided is still standing on Sycamore Street, Somerville. When the place was occupied by Lee it had one of those long pitched roofs, descending to a single story at the back, which are still occasionally met with in our interior New England towns. The house was, however, altered to its present appearance by that John Tufts who occupied it during post-Revolutionary times. From this lofty dwelling, Lee was able to overlook Boston, and to observe, by the aid of a strong field-gla.s.s, all the activities of the enemy's camp.
[Ill.u.s.tration: GENERAL LEE'S HEADQUARTERS, SOMERVILLE, Ma.s.s.]
Lee himself was at this time an object of unfriendly espionage. In a ”separate and secret despatch,” Lord Dartmouth instructed General Gage to have a special eye on the ex-English officer. That Lee had resigned his claim to emolument in the English army does not seem to have made his countrymen as clear as it should have done concerning his relation to their cause.
Meanwhile, General Lee, though sleeping in his wind-swept farmhouse and watching from its windows the movements of the British, indulged when opportunity offered in the social pleasures of the other American officers. Rough and unattractive in appearance,--he seems to have been a kind of Cyrano de Bergerac, ”a tall man, lank and thin, with a huge nose,”--he had, when he chose, a certain amount of social grace, and was often extremely entertaining.
Mrs. John Adams, who first met General Lee at an evening party at Major Mifflin's house in Cambridge, describes him as looking like a ”careless, hardy veteran,” who brought to her mind his namesake, Charles XII. ”The elegance of his pen far exceeds that of his person,” commented this acute lady. In further describing this evening spent at Major Mifflin's home, in the Brattle mansion, Mrs. Adams writes: ”General Lee was very urgent for me to tarry in town, and dine with him and the ladies present, but I excused myself. The general was determined that I should not only be acquainted with him, but with his companions, too, and therefore placed a chair before me, into which he ordered Mr. Spada (his dog) to mount, and present his paw to me for better acquaintance.”[2]
Lee was very fond indeed of dogs, and was constantly attended by one or more of them, this Spada being a great, s.h.a.ggy Pomeranian, described by unbiased critics as looking more like a bear than a harmless canine. In this connection, it is interesting to know that Lee has expressed himself very strongly in regard to the affection of men as compared with the affection of dogs.
This love for dogs was, however, one of the more ornamental of General Lee's traits. His carelessness in regard to his personal appearance was famous, and not a few amusing stories are told of the awkward situations in which this officer's slovenliness involved him. On one of Was.h.i.+ngton's journeys, in which Lee accompanied him, the major-general, upon arriving at the house where they were to dine, went straight to the kitchen and demanded something to eat. The cook, taking him for a servant, told him that she would give him some victuals directly, but that he must first help her off with the pot--a request with which he readily complied. He was then told to take a bucket and go to the well for water, and was actually engaged in drawing it when found by an aide whom Was.h.i.+ngton had despatched in quest of him. The cook was in despair when she heard her a.s.sistant addressed by the t.i.tle of ”General.” The mug fell from her hands, and dropping on her knees, she began crying for pardon, when Lee, who was ever ready to see the impropriety of his own conduct, but never willing to change it, gave her a crown, and, turning to the aid-de-camp, observed: ”You see, young man, the advantage of a fine coat; the man of consequence is indebted to it for respect; neither virtue nor ability, without it, will make you look like a gentleman.”[3]
Perhaps the most remarkable episode in all Lee's social career, was that connected with Sir William Howe's famous entertainment at Philadelphia, the Mischianza. This was just after the affair at Monmouth, in the course of which Was.h.i.+ngton swore, and Lee was taken prisoner. Yet though a prisoner, the eccentric general was treated with the greatest courtesy, and seems even to have received a card for the famous ball.
But, never too careful of his personal appearance, he must on this occasion have looked particularly uncouth. Certainly the beautiful Miss Franks, one of the Philadelphia belles, thought him far from ornamental, and, with the keen wit for which she was celebrated, spread abroad a report that General Lee came to the ball clad in green breeches, patched with leather. To prove to her that entire accuracy had not been used in describing his garb at the ball, the general sent the young lady the very articles of clothing which she had criticised! Naturally, neither the ladies nor their escorts thought any better of Lee's manners after this bit of horse-play, and it is safe to say he was not soon again invited to an evening party. Mrs. Hamilton and Mrs. Mercy Warren both call Lee ”a crabbed man.” The latter described him in a letter to Samuel Adams as ”plain in his person to a degree of ugliness; careless even to impoliteness; his garb ordinary; his voice rough; his manners rather morose; yet sensible, learned, judicious, and penetrating.”
Toward the end of his life, Lee took refuge in an estate which he had purchased in Berkeley County, Virginia. Here he lived, more like a hermit than a citizen of the world, or a member of a civilised community. His house was little more than a sh.e.l.l, without part.i.tions, and it lacked even such articles of furniture as were necessary for the most common uses. To a gentleman who visited him in this forlorn retreat, where he found a kitchen in one corner, a bed in another, books in a third, saddles and harness in a fourth, Lee said: ”Sir, it is the most convenient and economical establishment in the world. The lines of chalk which you see on the floor mark the divisions of the apartments, and I can sit in a corner and give orders and overlook the whole without moving from my chair.”[4]
General Lee died in an obscure inn in Philadelphia, October 2, 1782. His will was characteristic: ”I desire most earnestly that I may not be buried in any church or churchyard, or within a mile of any Presbyterian or Baptist meeting-house; for since I have resided in this country I have kept so much bad company that I do not choose to continue it when dead.” In this will, our singular hero paid a tribute of affectionate remembrance to several of his intimate friends, and of grateful generosity to the humble dependents who had adhered to him and ministered to his wants in his retirement. The bulk of his property--for he was a man of no small means--was bequeathed to his only sister, Sydney Lee, to whom he was ever devotedly attached.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 2: Drake's ”Historic Fields and Mansions of Middles.e.x.”
Little, Brown & Co., publishers.]
[Footnote 3: Drake's ”Historic Fields and Mansions of Middles.e.x.”]
[Footnote 4: Sparks's ”Life of Charles Lee.” Little, Brown & Co.]
THE MESSAGE OF THE LANTERNS
[Ill.u.s.tration: CHRIST CHURCH--PAUL REVERE HOUSE, BOSTON, Ma.s.s.]
There are many points of view from which this tale of Paul Revere may be told, but to the generality of people the interest of the poem, and of the historical event itself, will always centre around Christ Church, on Salem Street, in the North End of Boston--the church where the lanterns were hung out on the night before the battles of Lexington and Concord.
At nearly every hour of the day some one may be seen in the now unfrequented street looking up at the edifice's lofty spire with an expression full of reverence and satisfaction. There upon the venerable structure, imbedded in the solid masonry of the tower front, one reads upon a tablet:
THE SIGNAL LANTERNS OF
PAUL REVERE
DISPLAYED IN THE STEEPLE
OF THIS CHURCH,
APRIL 18, 1775,