British General Robert Ross landed with about four thousand men and
marched into Washington without much opposition. The scene that took
place during the burning is vividly described by a British officer,
George Gleig, in _A Narrative of the Campaigns of the British Army_.
While the third brigade was thus employed [_burning buildings_], the
rest of the army, having recalled its stragglers and removed the
wounded into Bladensburg, began its march towards Washington. Though
the battle was ended by four o’clock, the sun had set before the
different regiments were in a condition to move; consequently this
short journey was performed in the dark. The work of destruction had
also begun in the city, before they quitted their ground; and the
blazing of houses, ships, and stores, the report of exploding
magazines, and the crash of falling roofs informed them, as they
proceeded, of what was going forward. You can conceive nothing finer
than the sight which met them as they drew near to the town. The sky
was brilliantly illuminated by the different conflagrations, and a
dark red light was thrown upon the road, sufficient to permit each man
to view distinctly his comrade’s face. Except the burning of St.
Sebastian’s, I do not recollect to have witnessed ... a scene more
striking or more sublime.
I need scarcely to observe that the consternation of the inhabitants
was complete, and that to them this was a night of terror. So
confident had they been of the success of their troops, that few of
them had dreamed of quitting their houses or abandoning the city; nor
was it till the fugitives from the battle began to rush in, filling
every place as they came with dismay, that the President himself
thought of providing for his safety. That gentleman, as I was credibly
informed, had gone forth in the morning with the army, and had
continued among his troops till the British forces began to make their
appearance. Whether the sight of his enemies cooled his courage or
not, I cannot say, but, according to my informer, no sooner was the
glittering of our arms discernible, than he began to discover that his
presence was more wanted in the Senate than with the army; and having
ridden through the ranks, and exhorted every man to do his duty, he
hurried back to his own house, that he might prepare a feast for the
entertainment of his officers, when they should return victorious.
For the truth of these details, I will not be answerable; but this
much I know, that the feast was actually prepared, though, instead of
being devoured by American officers, it went to satisfy the less
delicate appetites of a party of English soldiers. When the detachment
sent out to destroy Mr. Madison’s house entered his dining parlor,
they found a dinner table spread and covers laid for forty guests.
Several kinds of wine, in handsome cut-glass decanters, were cooling
on the sideboard; plate-holders stood by the fireplace, filled with
dishes and plates; knives, forks, and spoons were arranged for
immediate use; in short, everything was ready for the entertainment of
a ceremonious party. Such were the arrangements in the dining room,
whilst in the kitchen were others answerable to them in every respect.
Spits, loaded with joints of various sorts, turned before the fire;
pots, saucepans, and other culinary utensils stood upon the grate; and
all the other requisites for an elegant and substantial repast were
exactly in a state which indicated that they had been lately and
precipitately abandoned.
You will readily imagine that these preparations were beheld by a
party of hungry soldiers with no indifferent eye. An elegant dinner,
even though considerably overdressed, was a luxury to which few of
them, at least for some time back, had been accustomed, and which,
after the dangers and fatigues of the day, appeared peculiarly
inviting. They sat down to it, therefore, not indeed in the most
orderly manner, but with countenances which would not have disgraced a
party of aldermen at a civic feast, and, having satisfied their
appetites with fewer complaints than would have probably escaped their
rival _gourmands_, and partaken pretty freely of the wines, they
finished by setting fire to the house....
But, as I have just observed, this was a night of dismay to the
inhabitants of Washington. They were taken completely by surprise; nor
could the arrival of the flood be more unexpected to the natives of
the antediluvian world than the arrival of the British army to them.
The first impulse of course tempted them to fly, and the streets were
in consequence crowded with soldiers and senators, men, women, and
children, horses, carriages, and carts loaded with household
furniture, all hastening towards a wooden bridge which crosses the
Potomac. The confusion thus occasioned was terrible, and the crowd
upon the bridge was such as to endanger its giving way. But Mr.
Madison, having escaped among the first, was no sooner safe on the
opposite bank of the river than he gave orders that the bridge should
be broken down; which being obeyed, the rest were obliged to return
and to trust to the clemency of the victors.
In this manner was the night passed by both parties; and at daybreak
next morning, the light brigade moved into the city, while the reserve
fell back to a height about a half mile in the rear. Little, however,
now remained to be done, because everything marked out for destruction
was already consumed. Of the Senate house, the President’s palace, the
barracks, the dockyard, etc., nothing could be seen except heaps of
smoking ruins; and even the bridge ... was almost wholly demolished.