I’ll Trade You A General, Part Two
On our last episode, we left things in this precarious situation:
American second in command General Charles Lee had been captured by the British at the end of 1776 while he was holed up in a New Jersey tavern, loosely plotting to replace George Washington as commander in chief of the Continental Army, but not doing his laundry. He was captured in a dirty shirt he had been wearing for several days. By the middle of 1777, Charles was having a fairly good (and expensive) captivity with his dogs, his mistress and daily dinner guests on the Crown’s dime. I mean shilling. Always believing he was right, he kept trying to develop military strategies for his captors that would bring an end to the American rebellion, a fact no one found out about until the mid 19th century.
George Washington and his army were not having a good time at Valley Forge, where they had settled into winter quarters. Congress couldn’t manage to feed or clothe the soldiers, who were drilling barefoot, eating rotten food, and trying to decide between boiling their shoes to make soup or wearing them. When Congress finally sent a delegation to see for themselves what was up at Valley Forge, the delegates were so ashamed they took off their own shoes and handed them over to the soldiers escorting them to headquarters. But things started to look up. Washington got to pick his own man — Nathanael Greene — to be army quartermaster, and he had Baron Von Steuben training the troops so they could stand and fight against the British.
English Major General Richard Prescott was on Aquidneck Island in command of British forces in Rhode Island. Like his counterpart Charles Lee, he didn’t like spending his nights at headquarters with his troops. He had himself a nice setup five miles down the road at the home of an American Loyalist. He only had about a dozen guards with him.
Colonel William Barton was not happy at all about the capture of Charles Lee. He greatly admired Lee’s military knowhow and believed the American cause was lost without him. He knew the British would never send Lee back unless the Americans had a general of sufficient rank to trade.
If you’d rather listen than read, check out this episode of History’s Trainwrecks:
Barton, being a huge fan of bold surprise attacks, came up with a plan for a bold surprise attack where he and a small group of soldiers would take some whaleboats across Narragansett Bay to Aquidneck Island, grab General Prescott, and bring him back to the mainland. Barton knew it was a dangerous plan with multiple points of possible failure. He said, “if our plan should be blasted, that my country would reprobate my conduct as rash and imprudent.”
Maybe. The commander-in-chief of the Continental Army was himself a fan of the surprise night attack, like that time six months earlier when he had metaphorically slid down the Hessians’ metaphorical Christmas chimney in Trenton, New Jersey like some kind of badass Santa Claus and dropped lumps of metaphorical coal in the mercenaries’ metaphorical stockings.
Barton believed that getting Charles Lee back was worth the risk. Lee had visited Rhode Island in 1775, assembled a bunch of British Loyalists, demanded they promise not to help the English anymore, and when they didn’t go along, had them arrested. Lee’s unflinching go-getterism impressed the Rhode Islanders. There is, apparently, an upside to being an oppositionally-defiant crank, under the right circumstances. Good to know.
It also helped that General Prescott was pretty well despised in Rhode Island. His hatred of rebels felt personal. He put a price on the head of historical trainwreck Benedict Arnold, at the time a hero to most Americans, of 1,000 guineas. Placing bounties on the capture of enemy officers wasn’t done — it made it look like Arnold was a “common out-law or robber” instead of an enemy officer. Arnold returned the favor by posting a bounty on Prescott — for less money — which even the English found funny.
Prescott had also physically and verbally abused Rhode Islanders he had captured, yelling that they should be hanged, smacking them around, and throwing them into jail with little food and comfort. Prisoners exchanged from Prescott’s prison ships were reported to be near death, “owing to the inhuman treatment they received from the enemy.” Prescott was also fond of knocking the hats off the heads of Quakers he encountered on the road who refused to show him the proper respect, even though Quakers never showed proper respect to anyone.
Good thing Barton needed Prescott alive to trade for General Lee. Otherwise he might not make it back to American territory.
***
Barton learned from some British deserters that Prescott had less than a dozen guards detailed to the farmhouse where he spent his nights, which was good news. He had to keep his operational plans secret — deserters and secret Loyalists were everywhere, and the British paid for intel in hard cash. Barton only told his commanding officer, who provided him with official written orders to proceed with his plan, although the orders did not mention Prescott by name. Barton asked five officers to volunteer but did not tell them the object of the mission. In July he asked for enlisted men from the 1st Rhode Island regiment to volunteer. It is said the entire regiment stepped forward at Barton’s request. He picked out about forty men who knew Aquidneck Island well.
Barton’s mission to capture General Prescott reads like a patriotic action movie. He began the operation on the Fourth of July, the first anniversary of independence. One British officer complained about all the noise the Americans were making “by firing thirteen cannon (one for each colony we suppose).”
You suppose correctly, uptight British guy. And they’re states. Not colonies. States.
Barton and his men departed in whaleboats that night for the port of Bristol, their oars muffled to avoid detection by all the British ships floating around as well as land-based artillery batteries. On the evening of July fifth, Barton told his officers of the real plan — to capture General Prescott. No one backed out. The next night they paddled across Narragansett Bay, prudently keeping Prudence Island between them and the British frigates in the bay.
The raiding party holed up for two days waiting for better weather, and on the night of July 10th, Barton gave his final speech to his men, in which he promised to be at the forefront of whatever dangers they encountered and warning them that silence and sobriety (he ordered them to leave their booze behind) were their greatest allies. He said, “I doubt not that if you succeed that your country will reward you; if not you will be rewarded in the eternal world for we are endeavoring to get him that is bound in prison, General Lee.”
I sure hope General Lee appreciated all this.
***
Barton’s boats had to snake their way past five pretty large British warships anchored in the bay including two 32-gun frigates and the 50-gun HMS Chatham, flagship of the recently promoted Sir Admiral Peter Parker. These ships habitually sent out crews in rowboats to patrol the bay as well. But as Barton’s boats approached Aquidneck Island, they heard a British sailor call out “all’s well!” from a nearby guard boat.
I guess we’ll see about that.
They landed on Aquidneck Island shortly before midnight and headed for the Overing house, where Prescott spent his nights. Only one sentry stood guard outside the house — a private in the British 22nd Regiment who had tried to desert twice. His gun wasn’t loaded either. Clearly Private Walter Graham’s heart was not in his current duty.
Barton’s men seized Graham and threatened him with immediate death if he made any noise. Graham said, “I won’t,” handed over his empty gun, and confirmed that General Prescott was in the house.
Barton’s men rushed to the house, one of them using his head to break open the locked front door. They had some trouble finding Prescott, so Barton ordered his men to set the house on fire, which, apparently, is the traditional method of flushing a general out of hiding. It was the same threat made to Charles Lee when he was barricaded inside his New Jersey tavern.
General Officer Capture Safety Tip, Number Two Hundred Fifty Seven: if they won’t come out on their own, threaten to burn their house down.
They started calling for General Prescott and Barton found a man getting out of bed and asked him if he was General Prescott. Prescott answered, “Yes, sir.” Barton replied, “You are my prisoner.”
Prescott said, “I acknowledge it, sir.”
The Americans also nabbed Lieutenant Barrington, nephew of the British Secretary of War, who might just turn out to be a more high-value prisoner than the general.
Prescott asked to put his uniform on, but Barton was in a hurry so Prescott only got his pants and a waistcoat and a cloak. With Lord Barrington’s barefoot nephew and the hapless Private Graham, the party made their way back to the boats, literally carrying Prescott there, that “he might go with the greatest ease and dispatch.”
As they rowed to safety, the alarm was raised back on Aquidneck Island. By 3 am, signal flares were fired to alert the British ships in the harbor, who ignored them, not believing “the signals were intended for them.”
When the whaleboats landed, Prescott, who had been silent the entire time, told Barton, “Sir, you have made a damned bold push tonight.” Barton replied, “We have been fortunate.”
***
News of Prescott’s capture spread like wildfire. George Washington got the news six days after the raid. He wrote, “This is among the finest partisan exploits that has taken place in the course of the war on either side (which was, perhaps, a dig at Banastre Tarleton’s capture of General Lee, which didn’t require any sort of water-based travel through a line of enemy gunships).”
Washington sent news of the raid to the Continental Congress, which passed a resolution honoring Colonel Barton and his men. John Adams and Ben Franklin both celebrated the raid in their correspondence.
And, of course, everyone knew what it meant. The governor of Connecticut wrote to Washington, saying, “I hope this capture of General Prescott may procure the releasement of General Lee.”
Washington sent a note to General Lord Howe that essentially said, “We’ve got one,” and pressed for a trade. Before that could happen, the British had to come to terms with this major embarrassment. One British officer wrote, “It is certainly a most extraordinary circumstance that a general commanding a body of 4,000 men, encamped on an island surrounded by a squadron of ships of war, should be carried off from his quarters in the night by a small party of the enemy…without a shot being fired.”
Which is a pretty good point.
The British army blamed the British navy, and everybody blamed General Prescott for spending the night away from headquarters. Once the news reached England, the London press had a field day with dirty limericks and poems implying that Prescott was spending the night at the Overing house with his mistress, even though the only women there were Mrs. Overing and her daughter and Mr. Overing was also staying in the house. Prescott was further lampooned for not having pants on during his capture, which was not true. The shellacking Prescott received at home put even King George III in a foul mood, which caused the papers to go silent for a week or two before publishing more fun stories about pantsless Prescott’s capture.
Charles Lee’s typically dour mood turned around at the news that Prescott had been captured. He saw this as his way out of British captivity. But Lord Howe was still officially treating Lee like a British deserter and was awaiting orders from England on what to do with him.
General Prescott was transported to confinement, but not before he was forced to sign a statement of parole in which he promised to remain in American captivity “until the commander-in-chief of the United States shall manifest his pleasure with regard to my disposal” since he was “made a prisoner of war by the army of the United States of America.”
This was a particularly galling document for a fellow who believed the Americans were just a rabble of rebellious British subjects. Because here he was, acknowledging the existence of an independent United States of America, their army, and their commander-in-chief.
Poor guy.
***
The negotiations to get Charles Lee back started six days after Prescott’s capture, on July 16, 1777. King George III finally allowed that Charles Lee had been removed from half-pay in the British service before he started working for the Americans and could “be deemed a prisoner of war, and may accordingly be exchanged as such when you shall think proper.” This news reached General Lord Howe in December, 1777.
But the exchange dragged on. Lee and Prescott were both sent to Philadelphia in April, 1778. Here Charles met with General Howe. No record of the meeting was kept, but later reports had Lee disparaging George Washington’s military ability and agreeing with Lord Howe’s suggestion that Charles had been duped into supporting the American cause.
Finally, on April 5th, 1778, General Lee was brought to the American lines, and from there paraded to the American encampment at Valley Forge, where George Washington reportedly “dismounted and received General Lee as if he had been his brother.”
After a celebratory dinner at headquarters, Charles slept in and reminded everyone of his less-civilized side, having brought in one of his mistresses to spend the night. He showed up to breakfast in a disheveled state. He really should have figured out how to wash a shirt.
But until General Prescott was back with the British, under the terms of his parole Charles was unable to rejoin the military. He went to York, Pennsylvania, where the Continental Congress had gone after the British took Philadelphia. As he had done with the British, Charles advised Congress on how to win the war, saying that Washington “was not fit to command a sergeant’s guard” and proposing a complete reorganization of the Continental Army. He didn’t believe they could hold their own against the British, calling an American offensive war “insanity.” While there, he petitioned for a promotion to lieutenant general, which would make him equal in rank to Washington.
Charles Lee never could read the room. All of his requests and plans were denied.
One of the prisoner exchanges everyone was waiting on was Ethan Allen, who after going to London and back, was finally released on May 6th, 1778. Prescott, formally back in British service, received his full promotion to major general (he had previously only been a major general in North America but a colonel in the main British army). While news of his promotion was on the way, Prescott faced a court-martial over his capture, and was exonerated.
General Lee rejoined the Continental Army at Valley Forge in mid-May. He disregarded all the changes that had occurred during his long absence. George Washington had withstood challenges to his command, particularly the historical trainwreck that was the Conway Cabal (which we’ll get to in a future episode). He had set Baron Von Steuben to turn the “rabble” of the army into a professional fighting force, and, by staying with his men through the winter at Valley Forge, Washington had secured his place as “Father of his Country.”
Washington and his council of officers planned an attack on the British, now that they heard Howe was being replaced by General Henry Clinton and were abandoning Philadelphia. Washington offered command of a 1,500-man expeditionary force to Charles, who refused, believing it was beneath him. Washington gave the command to the Marquis de Lafayette.
But the commander-in-chief’s advisors, most notably Alexander Hamilton, pressed for a large-scale attack. The recent alliance with France, the army’s new confidence in itself after all the training they had received, and the expectation on the part of the citizenry that the army do something after being cooped up at Valley Forge for six months, as well as Washington’s own predilection for bringing the fight to the enemy, caused him to increase the size of the expeditionary force to just under 5,000 men.
Now that this force was a bigger deal, and quite possibly the vanguard of a major attack on the enemy, Charles demanded to be placed in command. Washington agreed, and Lafayette acquiesced as well. Charles took over on June 27th.
The next day was the Battle of Monmouth Court House. Although not a victory for the Continentals, they did hold their own against the British, surprising everyone with their discipline under fire. Charles was blamed for a retreat, after which George Washington personally led his troops into battle, for what would be the last time until the Battle of Yorktown that ended the war.
Charles faced a court-martial for his actions at the Monmouth Court House, where he was exonerated of every charge except disrespecting the commander-in-chief. John Laurens, one of the young officers in Washington’s military family, challenged Charles to a duel over it.
Charles continued, in his usual way, to argue and annoy everyone, criticizing Washington, who by this point was almost universally revered, and attacking the Congress and the war effort. On January 10, 1780, he was dismissed from military service. He returned to his farm, increasingly destitute, and died in Philadelphia in 1782.
General Prescott was sent back to Rhode Island until the British evacuation in the fall of 1779. He was ordered to the Caribbean to defend British holdings against French attacks, now that the American Revolution had widened into hostilities between Britain and France.
He was promoted to lieutenant general in 1782 and retired to England, where he died in 1788. The papers did not report on his death.
***
Colonel Barton was the man of the hour for an hour or two. His capture of Prescott was widely celebrated. He received a promotion to colonel, but since his command experience was limited to small surprise attacks and not commanding troops in battle, he never joined the main Continental army. His promotion caused the Rhode Island Assembly to remove him from the militia, since he could be called at any time to serve with the Continentals, so Barton ended up as an officer on nobody’s payroll.
His fame did get him some opportunities to get into the fighting, but a wound he received in battle kept him out of the war for a year. By the time he was ready for active duty, the war was winding down.
Most officers had had professions that they could return to. Barton sold hats, and now that he was an actual war hero, he felt that this was beneath him. He petitioned the Rhode Island government and got a parcel of land in exchange for his service. He then asked Congress for compensation for the wound he had gotten in battle. Congress sent him $1500 for his trouble. While he was in New York to get his check, Barton consulted a doctor about his wound. He was advised to have one of his testicles removed. He declined.
He went on to serve in the Rhode Island Assembly and was made a general in the state militia. In 1786 Secretary of War Henry Knox sent him the ceremonial sword Congress had voted him almost a decade earlier in honor of his capture of Prescott.
In 1790 he was appointed to the position of Inspector of the Surveys and Ports for the port of Providence, but found that the pay wasn’t enough to support his lifestyle. He kept petitioning Congress for relief and published an account of the raid to capture a general.
Finding no relief, he went on expedition to get a land grant in Vermont, aided by Ethan Allen and his brother, who remembered Barton fondly for taking out General Prescott. The land was apportioned, and the new town was named Barton in his honor.
Things were finally looking up for William Barton — he had residual fame for his war exploits, a couple of chunks of land, several government jobs, and both his testicles. What could go wrong?
He got into legal trouble over taxes on his land grants, and even though he won his cases and got a large monetary judgment, the money was never paid. The case was reopened in 1811, and this time the judge ruled against him. So now Barton was in debt for the back taxes. Unable to pay, he was put into debtor’s prison.
I don’t want to get off on the wrong track here, but there were no bankruptcy laws at the time. The solution for debtors was to throw them in prison, where they would wait until friends and family paid off their debts or their creditors canceled them.
Which was no kind of solution at all.
Barton didn’t help himself. Although he could ply a trade while in prison, he refused. He also refused to let anyone pay his debts for him. He had a fairly wealthy younger brother who could have helped, but Barton wouldn’t let him. In 1815, Congress finally awarded pensions to Revolutionary War soldiers. But the money wasn’t enough to get Barton out of prison.
The only solution Barton would consider was the government paying his debts or his creditors (who didn’t really have proper justification for the debt) cancel them. Barton’s friends begged him to unclench and let others help him, but Barton insisted that the Congress or the Vermont legislature should take care of it for him.
Barton even petitioned President James Monroe for relief.
Since we have spent so much of our time on historical trainwrecks, it is sure starting to look like William Barton qualifies. He had friends and family willing to pay his debts but he cleaved to his stubbornness. He made his debts a point of honor and spent his old age unable to return to his family because of his pride.
Stories of his plight began to make the rounds. Newspapers published accounts of his raid from nearly fifty years before and lamented that a genuine national hero was spending his last days in prison. John Greenleaf Whittier, a famous American poet, wrote about Barton.
But there were some who had no sympathy. A letter published in the Norwich Courier in 1825 said that “His imprisonment, if it may be called such, is entirely voluntary on his part. He has the means of discharging the judgment under which he is imprisoned; but refuses on the ground that it was an unjust one.”
I’m no expert, but Barton is starting to sound like a trainwreck.
In the end, it was the Marquis de Lafayette who saved him. Lafayette heard about Barton’s plight while on his tour of the United States in 1825. The two had never met, but Lafayette knew all about Barton’s exploits during the war. Lafayette also knew what it was like to cool his heels in prison — he had been in jail for five years during the French Revolution.
Before he went back to France, Lafayette wrote a check to pay Barton’s debts in full.
Barton went home by way of Boston, carrying the ceremonial sword Congress had awarded with him. Seventy seven years old at this point, he was one of the few remaining Revolutionary War heroes in Rhode Island, so he was “in demand on special occasions of all sorts.”
In 1828, he was awarded a pension by Congress of $600 per month. At the time, “he was one of only twenty-six surviving officers from the Revolutionary War, and one of just five surviving colonels (no generals remained).”
Barton died in October, 1831 at age eighty three. His legendary capture of General Prescott was celebrated in newspapers and was even made into a stage play. An American fort was renamed Fort Barton in his honor.
Christian McBurney, in his book “Kidnapping the Enemy”, writes, “only with the coming of the Civil War, and the countless incidents of bravery and horror associated with that national conflict, did Barton’s legendary capture of Prescott begin to fade from public consciousness.”
Here’s the thing about historical trainwrecks like Charles Lee and William Barton — sometimes they’re exactly who you need to get the hard things done. But for all the good they can do, they can’t seem to help getting in their own way, which usually means they don’t get to reap the rewards that might otherwise be coming to them.
This is why they are so fascinating, and it’s why we’ll keep talking about them.
