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The 210th anniversary of the burning of the White House is August 24, 2024. On this day in 1814, British marines, sailors and soldiers attacked and burned the U.S. Capitol, the White House, and all government buildings except the patent office.
This was the 9-11 of the War of 1812. It was also the only other time that the White House was evacuated along with September 11, 2001. My White House complex evacuation that day inspired me to write The Burning of the White House: James and Dolley Madison and the War of 1812.
Enjoy the excerpts below and take my survey. I’m working turning my books into films and want to learn more about you.
The Burning of the White House: James and Dolley Madison and the War of 1812.
“If our first struggle was a war of our infancy, this last was that of our youth.”—James Madison, fourth president of the United States, the War of 1812.
As usual the Democratic Press published many advertisements on August 16, 1813, for their readership, the good people of Philadelphia. These ads included mundane announcements, such as selling two-story brick houses, feather beds, bags of coffee, and looking glasses. Because slavery was still practiced, not even the public notice to sell a thirteen-year-old slave boy seemed abnormal to readers.
What stood out most that day was an advertisement from Mr. James O. Boyle, a naturalized Irishman from Pugh Town, Virginia.
“One thousand dollars reward will be given,” his announcement began.
The amount was a mighty sum. After all, tickets to President James Madison’s first inaugural ball a mere four years earlier had cost only $4. Yet, the reason for the award was for more tantalizing than its dollar value.
“. . . for the head of the notorious, incendiary and infamous scoundrel, the violator of all laws, human and divine, the British Admiral George Cockburn.”
If Cockburn’s head wasn’t possible, other body parts would suffice.
“. . . or five hundred dollars for each of his ears on delivery to James O. Boyle.”
To this David, it was time to slay Goliath. Boyle wasn’t alone. Many Americans living along the Chesapeake Bay in Maryland and Virginia had plenty of reasons for wanting to see Admiral Cockburn’s head on a plate. In the spring and summer of 1813, the war with England had turned from traditional fighting between armies and navies into terrorism of private citizens by pillaging English redcoats. Cockburn may have been a British Admiral, but he was very much acting like a pirate.
Wonder what little Jemmy thinks of his war now? Such was the contemptuous attitude of George Cockburn as he approached his pearly white treasure the night of August 24, 1814.
He and Scott, along with General Ross and his aide, rode horses while their regiment, about 100, walked in a double file line. The leader of these foot soldiers carried a knife and wore a chapeau de bras or a bicorne hat typical of the Napoleonic era.
In the middle of this line were two men who carried lanterns. Though by this point the need for light was hardly great. The Capitol was wrapped a sheet of flames reaching to the heavens that could be seen for miles.
The men marched quickly, and mostly quietly, except for a handful of ruffians who began to talk.
“Silence! If any man in the ranks I’ll put him to death!” the leader called out.
Though his men had to follow such orders, Cockburn didn’t have to be silent. In fact, he was anything but quiet. The admiral saw an American man peering out the window of his house on Pennsylvania Avenue.
Leading the Ross and their officer, Cockburn rode up to the house and spoke to the man, who poked his head out the window.
“Gentlemen, I presume you are officers with the British army?” the man called out. “I hope, Sir, that individuals and private property will be respected.”
Cockburn’s response bore the tone expected of an admiral. He even pulled off his hat and wished him a good evening in a polite and sociable manner.
“Yes, Sir, we pledge our sacred honor, that the citizens and private property shall be respected,” he promised, overlooking the fact that they had burned private houses on Capitol Hill.
Perhaps he detected a doubtful look on the man’s face because he added: “Be under no apprehension. Our advice to you is to remain at home. Do not quit your houses.”
Pleased at the agreement in the man’s eyes, Admiral Cockburn revealed the question most plaguing him as he prepared to capture the White House. “Where is your President, Mr. Madison?”
The American said he didn’t know and couldn’t tell. But he supposed the president was a considerable distance away by now.
Their hopes of capturing the Madisons faded with each step they took. Washington City was more of ghost town than anything else. What awaited them at the White House was something more dazzling than they ever expected to find.
Though abandoned, the White House was set and ready to entertain Cockburn and his men as if he’d received an invitation.
Finding that the Madisons had evacuated the house, along with their guards, the British brushed up the steps, knocked in the door and boldly placed their boots onto the floor of the entry hall. They quickly invaded the rooms of the state floor—the center oval room, Dolley’s yellow music room, and the dining room that they had decorated under the guidance of Benjamin Latrobe.
While noting the small portrait of Dolley on the wall and Madison’s fine dress sword and other valuables, what attracted the most attention that night was the dining room. Why? Because it was full of something they hadn’t had much of all day long—food and wine.
Lt. Scott perhaps best described the feast that awaited them: “A large store of super-excellent Madeira and other costly wines stood cooling in ice in one corner of the spacious dining-room.”
While she was as absent as absent could be, Dolley’s hospitable presence was very much felt. “. . . the patriotic efforts s of these heroes were deemed deserving of the generous libations to be that night poured on the altar of American glory.” The optimistic effort she made to prepare for a victory celebration for her husband and his officers took the form of a table set for a party of forty, complete with silver bowls covering the plates at the dining table. The $500 china set along with silver knives, forks, and spoons glistened on the table.
“We found the cloth laid for the expected victorious generals, and all the appliances and meals to form a feast worthy the resolute champions of republican freedom.”
Cockburn did what any guest would do. He ordered his men to partake of the providential feast. After all, they’d had a very long day, marching from camp, fighting a military battle and marching again to set fire to a city. Scott was very pleased by his boss’s decision to enjoy the moment. “Never was nectar more grateful to the palates of the gods, than the crystal goblet of Madeira and water I quaffed off at Mr. Madison’s expense.”
But a feast like this wouldn’t be complete without one key thing: a toast. And Cockburn knew exactly the best person to participate in it: an American who owed his paycheck to the happens of Capitol Hill.
Earlier Cockburn had acquired a “friend” in Washington. He’d picked up or, more accurately, kidnapped a young man, a newlywed. Roger Weightman was a bookseller who owed his livelihood to the happenings of Congress. He frequently printed reports . . . (check). In a sense, he was a US government contractor. Somehow Cockburn got a hold of him. He wanted an American witness, someone who could relay the story of how the pirate-like Admiral achieved his finest conquest.
On entering the dining room, Cockburn insisted that young Weightman sit down and join them. Not only that, but he also required that Weightman make a toast and drink to Jemmy’s health. As a victim of kidnapping, Weightman felt the force of the cutlass in his back and the coercion to do just that.
The toasting took on a life of its own. One Briton toasted to the health of the Prince Regent of Great Britain. Another lifted his glass the success of His Majesty’s success on land and sea. Still another exhorted: “to peace with America and down with Madison.”
Such toasts wouldn’t be complete without taking a souvenir, something to remember the moment. Cockburn looked around and told Mr. Weightman to take something. Weightman spotted a valuable ornament. No, no, that item was too costly and he “must give [it] to the flames.” Then he handed Weightman a trinket from the mantle piece to serve as his souvenir.
Cockburn looked around again. He took a cushion from what he supposed was Mrs. Madison’s chair. He hoped Jemmy wouldn’t mind because “This will remind me of Mrs. Madison’s seat.” (check)
Someone found one of Madison’s hats, an old chapeau de bras. He raised by the tip of his bayonet and declared that if they couldn’t capture “the little president“ they would parade his hat in England. Check source.
Lt. Scott got in on the looting fun. He and others swiftly passed through the rooms of the house on a quick tour. They visited the second floor, where the Madisons lived in their private quarters. There they likely saw a wallpaper pattern of green leaves, white flowers on a pink background. Dolley had given a scrap of this wall paper to Mary Latrobe, which she kept in a Chinese lacquer tea box.
The mahogany furniture flanking the floral wallpapered walls was filled with all sorts of goodies. Many of the drawers were already opened, creating a mess of disarray. The British thought this was the result of the Madison’s quick departure. Very likely, some of mess was left by other looters who visited the White House in between Mrs. Madison’s escape and the British arrival.
Though the dresses Dolley Madison left behind were beautiful and lovely, Mr. Madison’s wardrobe had an immediate, practical application, particularly for Lt. Scott. “The beautiful apartments were hastily visited; passing through the President’s dressing-room. . . the snowy clean linen tempted me to take the liberty of making a very fair exchange.”
Scott’s clothes were highly spoiled by that point in their very long day. Wouldn’t it be nice to change into something as clean as it was comfortable?
“I accordingly doffed my inner garment, and thrust my unworthy person into a shirt belonging to no less a personage than the chief magistrate of the United States.”
One of the British marines or soldiers took a miniature painting of Dolley from the White House. Scott had noticed that “On the walls hung a small portrait of the President’s lady.”
Still another officer stole Madison’s fine dress sword. Another took a small walnut medicine chest. The most creative catch was the British lad who took a table cloth from the dining room and tied plates, knives and forks into, and walked away with it, as if capturing a whole bounty of silver.
Then it was time for the real fun to begin. They must do their work and prepare the kindling for the fire.
The British sailors and marines piled up the furniture. Seizing the three dozen Grecian cane chairs and piling them into the center of the red oval room would have made an ideal bonfire stack.
Likewise the President’s mahogany bed with elegant linens was particularly attractive. The Brits took lamp oil and poured it on bed linens and curtains. Once captain claimed “Our sailors were artists at the work.”
Once they’d prepared the house by piling the furniture and pouring lamp oil, they were ready for the final act.
About fifty sailors surrounded the house. Each carried a long pole that held a ball about the size of a plate at the end of it. Each man stood in front of a window or door. After everyone was out of the house, the commander, under the watchful and gloating eye of Admiral Cockburn, gave his order. Fire!
In unison these men thrust their fire poles into the White House. Flames instantly engulfed the White House, destroying in one moment George Washington’s most tangible contribution for establishing the nation’s capital city.
The sky was reddened by the blaze of the White House inferno, the Capitol conflagration. Both were President Madison’s greatest humiliation.
Fantastic!