The military career of Edward Drewe, a major in the 35th Regiment of Foot until
he was court-martialed and dismissed from the army in 1780, reads almost as a parody of Wolfe’s description of an unsatisfactory officer that opened the previous chapter. Drewe had joined the army as a young man in 1769, and his wealth enabled him to rise quickly in ranks, so that he was the major of the 35th Regiment
by 1779, despite his commanders’ reports of his many “Neglects, and Inattentions” to their orders. Drewe had, in fact, “bravely exposed his person” in battle, having led the 35th’s light company at the Battle of Bunker Hill, and he clearly considered
the wounds he had received there the crowning achievement that would indisputably and irrevocably “acquire him the character of a good officer.” However, his career ended after he was tried at court-martial by his commander, Lieutenant Colonel Cockburn, who accused him of a litany of crimes including “frequently Absenting himself from the Service of the Regiment for Weeks together,” and “disobedience of orders.” Furthermore, Drewe had indulged in “Repeated Neglects of duty,” the most notorious of which was publicly revealing that he had not even lived up to Wolfe’s sarcastic standard of “learning a little of the exercise,” but rather had so little experience of the manual exercise that he was completely unable to drill the battalion.221
Drewe did not dispute the substance of Cockburn’s accusations. He had, in fact, skipped parades, made extended visits to friends, and stayed in bed late into the mornings rather than performing his administrative duties as one of the regiment’s field officers. On the day that Cockburn had demanded that he drill the battalion,
Drewe testified, he had in fact declined to do it: “Taken Unawares, Several Strangers Present, not having seen that Exercise Practiced for above two Years: I excused myself,” he said, adding that he could “honestly…Confess that I am no Parade Officer.”222 But if Drewe lacked military knowledge, could not properly perform the
duties of his rank, and was spending most of his days drinking in hovels late at night and then lying in bed until noon, then just what qualities in himself did he propose as justifications for his continued service as an officer?
Yet Drewe had little problem speaking in his own defence. His early history in the army, he thought, proved his fitness to be an officer beyond all doubts. He had “wished to be Early Distinguished” in his army career, and the opportunity had come within two days of the 35th’s arrival in Boston on June 17th, 1775, when the 35th was
part of the force ordered to attack the fortifications that the rebelling colonists had hastily erected on Bunker Hill. Drewe, who had gained command of the light company only the day before, led it into action, with devastating results: ”my
Company was Cut to Pieces, to six Privates, almost in my Sight. I received that day, Three Wounds, two Contusions; and had my Shoulder dislocated.”223 Drewe
suggested that he may have had his faults in his lack of care and attention to his company, his constant absences from parades, and his neglect of the duller
administrative duties of an officer, but all that was immaterial in the larger scale of things, for he undoubtedly possessed the one true absolutely necessary quality for a British officer: unmatched physical courage. In Drewe’s eyes, the events that led to his dismissal from the army were completely counteracted by his battlefield valor.224
222.WO 71/55, pp. 217.
223.WO 71/55, p. 213. The Battle of Bunker Hill was notorious for the high casualty rate for the British, especially among the officers. Though the great loss of life made many consider it a disaster, it was a bonanza for the surviving officers, many of whom wrote gleeful letters home announcing that they had moved several steps higher on the seniority lists of their regiments over the course of a single afternoon. Conway, "British Army Officers and the American War for Independence," 276.
He had shown courage, so his ignorance and inattention to the less important aspects of a military career were immaterial.
Colonel Cockburn saw things differently. In his reply to Major Drewe’s
statement, he acknowledged the basic facts of the situation as Drewe had laid them out: “The Prisoner did March that Light Infantry Company as their Captain into the Field, at Bunker's Hill. He had the Misfortune there, to be Wounded in the Multitude, and had the good Fortune, to recover from those Wounds.” But, Cockburn
continued, “Did he there display any Judgment, as an Officer! No. Does a Wound mark the Merit of an Officer? no! Yet ever Since that day it has been rung in our Ears, the Military Atchievements [sic] and Exploits of that Captain Drewe.” Yes, Drewe had in fact been wounded, Cockburn suggested. He had perhaps even shown great physical courage in battle. But Cockburn ridiculed the idea that all an officer needed was courage: “Thank God every British Soldier Possesses true Courage. Something more I conceive is required for the Officer.”225
On the surface, this dispute between Cockburn and Drewe appears to be a straightforward conflict about the foundations of military virtue, with Cockburn insisting that no man was fit to be an officer if he was not competent at the various duties that were an officer’s lot, while Drewe argued for the ultimate primacy of the virtue of courage. But the two men actually represented the two sides of a more veiled debate about the proper sources of masculine status for army officers: the wealthy Drewe considered his high rank no less than his due because he had money and social prominence, while Cockburn had spent many years resenting the
promotions of younger, well-connected men over his head while he loyally did his
duty in a remote Florida garrison and consequently thought that age and experience ought to be the primary qualifications for high military rank.
But the two officers also placed these rather self-interested arguments about individual rank and status within a framework of concern for the national interest. Britain’s various imperial wars of the eighteenth century had frequently stimulated anxieties about British martial masculinity; every lost battle had unleashed a new round of fretting about whether British soldiers had lost the manly qualities
necessary for battlefield success. Cockburn’s insistence that officers be experienced, dedicated, and knowledgable about the technical aspects of fighting with muskets made him the natural ally of commentators such as Major Robert Donkin, who argued that Britain’s burgeoning culture of luxury, refinement, and gentlemanly politeness was imperiling British masculinity, and, consequently, the nation’s ability to wage war effectively.226 Donkin worried that a desire for wealth and pleasure
rendered a man incapable of waging war and therefore unmasculine, writing that the “insatiable desire of making money, and that mean dispiriting passion, love of pleasure, renders us at times incapable of conducting either a sea or land war!”227
Drewe, on the other hand, wrote numerous essays claiming that the strictures of linear warfare itself were emasculating, and dangerously feminizing the soldiers forced to practice it, because they restrained soldiers from exercising the manly courage that was fundamental to proper martial masculinity. Furthermore, he claimed, the savage discipline associated with linear warfare threatened the very foundations of the state by being inimical to British liberty. As this chapter shows,
226.Michèle Cohen, "’Manners’ Make the Man: Politeness, Chivalry, and the Construction of Masculinity, 1750–1830," Journal of British Studies 44, no. 02 (2005): 312-329: “politeness began to be questioned…because of its incompatibility with a masculine national character.” Politeness as a threat to martial virtue and military masculinity: Karen Harvey, "The History of Masculinity, Circa 1650–1800," 308.
the case between Drewe and Cockburn highlighted the tensions that were evident in the British army at this time, as it sought to uphold two increasingly contradictory goals: the value of courage—which had immense cultural prestige as a key
masculine virtue in both the military and civilian worlds—and the needs of the British army itself, which was struggling to adapt to the increasingly technical demands of early modern warfare.
Cockburn’s case against Drewe was a testimony for the importance of officers’ behavior off the battlefield. Any true British soldier, Cockburn had suggested, had the ability to show courage in battle. But the modern British army had need of officers who were capable of more than merely braving the enemy’s shots on the field of battle: it was their job to ensure that the enlisted soldiers of the regiment were well-disciplined, to train the soldiers in the various formations and maneuvers, to inspect their clothing, weapons, and food, and many other administrative tasks essential to maintaining a functioning infantry regiment. Thus, Cockburn argued, Drewe’s disinterest in these non-combat duties was actively harming the regiment.
Cockburn blamed the way that promotion and rank were distributed in the army: Drewe had achieved a high rank at a young age not because of his exceptional military skill, but because of his wealth and connections, which allowed him to purchase promotions.
Describing himself as “the only son of a Gentleman of Family; my Fortune
independent of a Profession,” Drewe noted that he “did not rise Unexpectedly” to the rank of major of the 35th Regiment, but that “my Birth, my Indulgent Parents, and
my liberal Command of Money, entitled me at least to expect this Step.”228 Drewe
was in the fortunate position of being able to buy high status in the army. His
military career started with his purchase of an ensigncy in the 35th in 1769, and by
the time the regiment arrived in Ireland in 1773, he had also purchased his promotion to lieutenant. When derided by Lieutenant Colonel Cockburn for unmilitary behavior rendering him unworthy for promotion, Drewe defended his purchases, noting that when he purchased his promotion to captain in 1774, he had been recommended for that promotion by Cockburn.229
But Cockburn furiously refuted Drewe’s implication that he gained his promotion from any merit whatsoever. “I perfectly agree,” he stated, “that a liberal Command of Money, procured him his present Rank. That, and that only has.”230 Another
officer remarked that it was “well known Mr. Drewe gave an Uncommon great Sum for his Commission.”231 Although the government had established set prices for
commissions for various ranks, and made intermittent attempts to enforce them, the actual prices paid for commissions fluctuated widely depending on the availability of commissions, the fashionability of the regiment, the current location of the regiment (regiments stationed in or near London commanded a substantial premium over those assigned to distant, unhealthy, or unpopular places), and supply and demand.232 They might go for far less than the regulation price, or for far more.
Drewe reportedly paid 4000 guineas (£4200) to be promoted to major of the 35th
Regiment, a substantial premium over the established price for a majority in a regiment of foot, which was only £2600.
229.WO 71/55, p. 212. 230.WO 71/55, 244. 231.WO 71/55, p. 232.
232.Throughout the century, the crown made attempts to regulate the commission trade: to establish a minimum age, so that commissions could no longer be bought for very young boys; setting minimum amounts of time to be served at a given rank before the officer was eligible for promotion, and to establish fixed prices for each promotion. However, these regulations were not consistently followed; men with money or influence could generally flout them.
Cockburn claimed that he found Drewe to be an inadequate and incompetent officer and his recommendation of Drewe for promotion to captain occurred only because the peculiarities of the system of promotion by purchase or influence had created an unfortunate collision of circumstances that resulted in Cockburn’s reluctant acquiescence to the promotion of the wealthy but undeserving Lieutenant Drewe: As Cockburn explained, when the 35th was stationed in Ireland in 1773,
a Succession in the Regiment was Recommended, by the (then) Lieut. Colonel Allen, from the Majority down; in which Succession Lieut. Massey…declared himself a Purchaser of the Company; but on the Commission coming over to Ireland, Mr. Massey, found he could not raise the money.233
This situation reflects the complex maneuvers surrounding officers promotions: the Regiment’s Lieutenant Colonel, Richard Allen, had a vacancy for the rank of major of the regiment. That rank would be offered to the most senior Captain, if he was willing and able to pay the £700 required to purchase that promotion. If he was disinclined or impoverished, the offer would pass to the next most senior Captain, and so on down until a purchaser was found. But this promotion would, in turn, create a vacant Captaincy in the regiment, and an opportunity for one of the lieutenants to be promoted into it. As related by Cockburn, this opportunity was seized upon by Lieutenant Massey, and he secured the promotion to captain.
But Massey proved to be short of funds when it came time to actually pay for his promotion, and asked his commander to use his influence with the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland “not to Publish those Commissions, for if they had been Published, he would of Course been out of the Army, by being Obliged to put up that Company for sale.”234 That is, if Massey’s new promotion to captain were made public, Massey
would owe the government £700 for it, and—not having the money he owed—he
233.WO 71/55, p. 240. 234.WO 71/55, p. 241.
would be forced to raise it by selling the Captaincy again right after he obtained it. Massey proposed instead that his superiors discreetly ignore his previous request and allow him to remain a lieutenant.
But just as the captain’s promotion to major opened up a spot for one of the lieutenants to be promoted to captain, the promotion of Lieutenant Massey had allowed for a promotion of one of the regiment’s ensigns to his newly-vacated lieutenancy, which then allowed an entirely new man to be commissioned as an ensign. If Massey did not take up his promotion to captain, he would destroy the promotion chain for everyone below him.235 Thus, this was not a feasible solution:
the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland had already promised these two promotions to other men, and was not about to revoke them and disappoint two officers with important political connections merely because Massey was insolvent. If the 35th wanted to
keep Massey from having to sell out, the only solution was to find another lieutenant in the regiment to purchase the captaincy, at which point the new lieutenant and the new ensign could just take the spots opened up by his promotion instead.
Here the well-heeled Lieutenant Drewe eagerly stepped in to save the situation. He had the money, and Cockburn claimed that he was forced to recommend him for promotion and did so only to save Massey from being forced out. He did so with much resentment, having observed many “Neglects, and Inattentions” in Drewe’s behavior as lieutenant. But the perquisites of the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland gave him no choice. Although having, as Drewe described it, a “liberal Command of Money” was the quickest and surest path to promotion regardless of military merit, it was not the only path. Contemporary records make numerous references to the role
235.The deeply contingent nature of military promotion was well known at the time; see, for instance, the example warrant for a promotion in Simes’Military Medley, which specifies, after the retirement of the major (“A.”), which senior captain was to succeed to the majority, and followed the promotion chain all the way down through the ranks to "..andI.Gentleman, to succeed to the saidH.as Ensign" (Simes,
of “interest” in gaining commissions or promotions—that is, their tendency to go to people with parliamentary connections, to relatives of peers and people who
controlled parliamentary seats, and so on.236 These commissions gained from
“interest” often did not have to be paid for, and the men with the power to issue commissions—the Secretary at War, the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, and the Commanders-in-Chief of Britain and North America in wartime—found themselves continually deluged with letters from commission-seekers and their patrons.
Patronage and using one's influence to secure plum positions for one's relatives and friends was a normal and acceptable part of a high-ranking officer's duties. For example, in Lord Loudoun’s list of men who were to be provide ensign’s commissions and why, he noted that some had been of great service to the army in North
America, others came with recommendations from peers of the realm, and one was “A Relation of Mine.”237 A satirical advice manual warned generals not to try too hard
236.An ensign’s commission for a relative was a common favor asked by MPs who were "Friends of the Government,” and were an especially common source of patronage in Ireland, often to the detriment of the army (Odintz, 288-292). James Agnew, an officer stationed in British North America, wrote numerous letters to his wife reporting on the schemes of other officers stationed at Halifax to ensure that their friends and relations would be favored for promotions. One major, he claimed in 1758, was considering making a winter trip across the Atlantic to London in hopes of using his influence to secure a "Company without Money" (i.e. a promotion to the rank of Captain without the payment of £700 usually required) for a friend (James Agnew to Mrs. Agnew, Halifax, 6 November 1758, Agnew Correspondence, Huntington Library, HM 2909). By 1762, with the war in North America winding down, Agnew himself was claiming that he would leave the army if a promotion to Lieutenant Colonel was not forthcoming, adding however that his "hopes were never more sanguine than at the present, for by the late promotions made at home," he was "now the oldest [i.e. most senior] Major in the Army"