George Washington - Indispensable Man? Part II

Major General Charles Lee was a complainer.

It didn’t start when he joined the Continental Army in 1775. Charles was predisposed to crabbiness. His father was a British major general and his mother was descended from landed gentry. He was the youngest child, and the only son to survive to adulthood. A place of stature had been carved out for Charles, and he meant to have it.

He was blessed—I mean cursed, with a fiery temper and chronic medical ailments like rheumatism and gout, which didn’t improve his mood. One of his biographers has suggested that Charles was bipolar, going from episodes of manic energy and brilliance to depressive episodes that lasted weeks. In a time where steadfastness was the path to success, Charles was mercurial and unpredictable.

In some respects he was as radical a revolutionary as Samuel Adams; his time in the court of the King of Poland, his experiences fighting in Eastern Europe, and his disdain for King George III made him an enemy of divine-right authoritarians.

He was as worldly and well-traveled as Ben Franklin and as well-educated as Thomas Jefferson. He had gone to the best schools in England and spoke at least four languages. John Adams said Charles was a combination of soldier and scholar, but thought he was “a queer creature.”

(If you'd rather listen than read, check out this episode of the History's Trainwrecks Podcast):

The Men Who Would Be Washington, Part II

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Charles Lee had quite a lot going for him. On paper, he was more qualified than George Washington. He had far more education in general than the commanding general, as well as more military know-how and experience. When it came to the kind of wilderness fighting the colonials were going use against the British, Lee and Washington had both been involved in the battles of the French and Indian War in America. If the Continental Congress had been hiring a commander-in-chief just from the resumes, Charles Lee would have been their first choice. He certainly had more in common with the erudite, cerebral, philosophical revolutionaries in Congress than George Washington did.

But those who knew Charles were fully aware of his potential shortcomings. It is a testament to his abilities that he wasn’t just written off as one of the many foreign adventurers who finagled a high ranking position in the Continental Army. But in the end, like all of our trainwrecks, Charles was the cause of his own downfall.

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He was commissioned as a British officer at the age of fourteen, which was just how things worked in the British army at that time. His father had used his influence and money to get his son the post. Commissions could be purchased, and Charles’s early career was a series of these, but the ability to buy a commission stopped at the rank of colonel. After that, competition for promotion was intense, resulting in backstabbing, intrigue, and bitter rivalries. A British officer needed palace supporters as well as talent and accomplishment to succeed, and more often than not, it was who you knew that mattered far more than what you did. It is not hard to believe that Charles, who was ingrained with this military system, brought this attitude with him to America.

His regiment was sent to the colonies with the doomed Braddock expedition of 1755, where Charles encountered George Washington and Thomas Gage, future British Commander-in-Chief of North America. The campaign was a disaster, with the British regulars cut down as they lined up in an open field as they had been taught, and colonial militia led by Washington covering their retreat. British prisoners were tortured and scalped. Lee wrote his sister that “if you happen to be left disabled in the field, the highest blessing that you can wish for is that some friends will immediately knock you on the head, for it is great odds that you suffer some terrible lingering death from these savages.”

(For more on the intersection of Washington, Gage, and Lee twenty years before the Revolution, check out History’s Trainwrecks episode five, “Washington? Never Heard of Him.”

Braddock’s defeat was Charles’s first real battle. He accepted the Indians’ brutality as part of their style of fighting, but criticized the French for allowing it. Charles had learned European rules of engagement, and standing by while your native allies slow-roasted a prisoner over a fire was not it.

Charles embraced native culture on his next posting, as a captain in upstate New York. Always good at languages, he learned to speak Iroquois and fathered two children with the daughter of a Seneca chief. He wrote his sister that the Indians were “a much better sort of people than commonly represented.” The Indians had his number as well, nicknaming him “Boiling Water.”

The Indians were not wrong. After a British defeat at Fort Ticonderoga where Captains Thomas Gage and Charles Lee once again served together, Charles was sent to Long Island to recuperate from a wound. While there, he became embroiled in a feud with the regimental surgeon, who ambushed him and shot him. Charles reported the incident to his commander, who allowed the surgeon to resign and leave the service. Charles was not happy with this and publicly criticized his commander for the decision. In addition, his letters home about the general in charge of the British defeat at Ticonderoga got him a reputation as a harsh critic of his own army.

Charles Lee was not a team player.

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His military skills, however, were evident. Thomas Gage, now a brigadier general, ordered Charles on a mission to Fort Pitt to arrange for reinforcements. When Charles completed his mission, he was ordered by his regimental commander, Jeffrey Amherst, to return to his regiment. Amherst was the same officer who had let the homicidal surgeon off the hook, so Charles disobeyed the order and reported back to General Gage instead. He wasn’t officially reprimanded for this insubordination but was sent to Philadelphia in 1760 on a recruiting mission, which was seen as a thankless assignment.

It wasn’t long before Charles got arrested for assaulting a constable. He agreed to a plea bargain, a five hundred-pound bond, and a promise to stay out of trouble for one year, which if you’ve been following along, was not going to be so easy for him. He went back to his regiment as the war in America was winding down. He knew his service would help his prospects for promotion, so he went back to England to seek advancement and defend his reputation as a giant pain in the ass, which, as we’ve seen, was not entirely unfounded.

Upon arriving home, Charles wrote a pamphlet criticizing General Amherst, his old commander. This brought him into obvious conflict with high-ranking members of the government and military who were on Amherst’s side. His attempts to get a promotion under these circumstances, not surprisingly, stalled. He was advised to keep his political opinions to himself but didn’t, going so far as to criticize the policies of the new king, George III.

He did get a promotion to major and was sent to Spain for service on the side of Portugal. Spain had demanded that Portugal close their ports to British goods, which Portugal refused. British forces were sent to repel a Spanish invasion. Charles tried to get an appointment on the staff of the expedition’s commander, but his reputation had preceded him. Charles said that he “felt like ‘an excommunicated miscreant.”

Military Promotion Safety Tip, Number Two Hundred Fifty Seven: Do not criticize the people who have the power to advance your career.

Lee served with General John Burgoyne, another future player in the American Revolution, in Spain. Charles led an operation that resulted in a major British victory at Vila Velha. Much of the credit went to Burgoyne, but Charles was recommended for promotion.

But with this short war over, as well as the war against France, the British army went to peacetime strength and Charles was put on half-pay, stuck at the rank of major.

This would be a good time to talk about Charles’s spending habits. He was fond of an extravagance, which included lots of travel to medicinal spas for his many ailments. He saw himself as a member of British aristocracy, which he was, and spent lavishly to maintain that lifestyle. He was also quite fond of dogs, which many of you know are not cheap. Full pay was barely enough for him. Half pay wasn’t even in the ballpark.

He tried to get a land grant in New York, but competition for land after British victory in the French and Indian War was fierce. Again, knowing all the right people in England was key to getting one of these grants approved. Charles never seemed to do well in these scenarios, where success was usually up to the same people who thought he was a cantankerous irritation. And he made sure to blame them for his desperate circumstances.

So Charles went to Poland. It was common for experienced British officers to take their shows on the road during peacetime (and the reduced pay it brought). They were highly sought after by other European princes who wanted battle-tested officers working for them. With letters of recommendation in hand, Charles took a slow tour across Europe, stopping in Berlin, where he got an audience with Frederick II and his son Frederick Wilhelm, heir to the Prussian throne.

Upon his arrival in Poland, he was made an aide-de-camp to King Stanislaus, where he ended up educating the king about British politics. It wasn’t active-duty service, but it paid pretty well and he got to hang out at court and often dined at the king’s table.

It was easy for Charles to see this as the kind of lifestyle he deserved.

But he was there to see military action; he still held hopes of high rank in the British service, and needed some more experience under his belt. He asked the king for a new assignment and was sent to Istanbul as an escort for the Polish ambassador.

Charles learned of his mother’s death while in Istanbul and asked King Stanislaus for permission to return to Britain. The king generously promised to keep paying Charles to be his agent in London and wrote a letter of recommendation to King George III.

It is worth pointing out that Charles Lee was doing pretty good. He had made important connections, served in high positions, and had at least one king, if not two, on his side. He asked for an audience with George III and, unusually enough, got it. He went in with his letter of recommendation from Stanislaus, but found his reception from the king to be “icy.”

Apparently, King George, who was pretty good at keeping his ear to the ground, had heard all about the mean things Charles Lee had said about his superiors in the army and the king himself. King George “declined to accept Stanislaus’s recommendation and flatly rejected Lee’s request for a promotion.”

Whoops.

One of his old acquaintances from Warsaw, after hearing about it, advised Charles that “common prudence should teach us to hold our tongues rather than to risk our fortunes without any prospect of advantage to ourselves or neighbors.”

Well, Charles, that sounds like some really good life advice. I sure hope you take it.

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Charles’s loyal pal King Stanislaus promised him a position in the Russian Army. Charles held out the hope that victory at the head of an army—any army—would help him persuade King George to give him a meaningful promotion. So he revised his will and set out for service against the Ottoman Turks in 1768.

Charles got to Warsaw right in the middle of the Polish Civil War. King Stanislaus gave him a commission as a major general in the Polish Army and “conferred upon him the Order of the Knights of St. Stanislaus (no relation).”

This was some fairly serious and sudden validation. Charles had left England as a major on half-pay, and here he was now a major general holding one of Eastern Europe’s highest honors, which had been given him by his pal, the King of Poland.

Take THAT, George III.

While in Warsaw, General Lee found time to fall in love and propose marriage to a mysterious young lady (likely a member of the Polish nobility) known only as Louisa. She turned him down. So he did what was becoming a pattern for him—he lashed out, calling her “vain,” “hypocritical,” and “deceitful.”

But Charles didn’t have time to dawdle in Warsaw or stalk his unrequited love. With his new Pomeranian Spado, he joined a Russian force preparing to confront the Ottoman Turks.

Side note – I am no fan of the Ottoman Turks. Check out the first episode of How To Talk to Your Pets About History, which deals with the fall of Constantinople, on our Patreon page.

Ottomans. I sure hope Charles Lee and his little dog give them what’s coming to them.

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The trip to the front was miserable. It rained a lot and the countryside was devastated by the civil war and attacks by Turkish irregulars. He and his dog reached the front and engaged the Ottomans, driving them to retreat to a walled city. The Russians had no siege equipment and were forced to withdraw back to Poland.

Charles was incensed and complained to King Stanislaus about the Russians, blaming them for failure to capitalize on their victory. He wrote his sister that “blockheads in command could render abortive the valor of troops.”

He was taken out of the fighting by an attack of rheumatic fever. He went to the Hungarian capital of Budapest to try the spa. He recovered and went to Italy for the winter. He stopped at the court in Vienna, attending banquets and balls and taking Spado with him everywhere. He trained the dog to offer his paw to people, delighting the upper crust of Vienna society, including the heir to the throne of the Hapsburgs, Joseph II. Charles engaged in conversation with the prince about British policy in America and found the future emperor quite knowledgeable. Charles “wrote to a friend that even George III was ‘not quite so well acquainted’ with the issues involved in the Anglo-American conflict.”

Charles stayed in Italy for a year, after which he felt “stronger, fresher and younger” than he was before his recent illness. He got into a spat with an Italian military officer and had a duel with swords, where Charles lost the tips of two fingers. He challenged the Italian to a rematch with pistols, where he “mortally wounded his opponent and fled from Italy.”

He was back in London by June of 1771. He wrote articles describing the effectiveness of guerilla tactics against the conventional European style of fighting and the importance of coordinating military and political goals.

He wrote an essay for London’s Public Advertiser praising Emperor Joseph II and criticizing George III by contrast. He said that Joseph respected his subjects and held “very generous notions of the rights of mankind.” Charles made it clear that the British king “was lacking in both of these areas.” Although the essay was anonymous, Charles made no secret of the fact that he was the author.

Well. There’s no way THAT could backfire on him.

His writings became too radical for publication, especially one that portrayed “George III?as corrupt and manipulative.” His “literary career was stifled and, more importantly, his political ideas were censored.”

Charles felt once again betrayed by his country, and decided that America, “that one asylum in the world where men preferred ‘their natural rights to the fantastical prerogative of a foolish perverted head because it wears a crown” was the place for him.

In August, 1773, Charles and his little dog Spado set sail for America.