An original letter from the Rev. George Robert Gleig concerning the Battle of Bladensburg and Capture of Washington, ink, on ‘Bylands, Winchfield’ notepaper, dated 24 April 1884, with notes to top left hand corner of front page by the unknown American recipient, 4pp., and containing new anecdotes of his experiences in that campaign, over and above his published work:

‘My dear Sir

‘Your letter of the 11th inst. ... no need of pardon from one whom its receipt has afforded much gratification. The pamphlet you are good enough to promise, will doubtless arrive a post or two later and you may depend upon my reading it with much interest. You do not tell me on what subjects it bears, but coming from you, it is pretty sure to command my attention.

You ask me for anecdotes connected with the battle of Bladensburg and the Capture of Washington. I could give you many were we face to face. On paper I must try to confine myself to such as ones least likely to over-tax your patience.

1) Nothing could exceed the kindness of the inhabitants of Bladensburg to our wounded, both when first ... and after we had returned to our ships. In the same room with Colonel Thornton lay your gallant Commodore Barney, both previously hurt. A friendship was at once struck up between them which lasted through their lives. The Commodore told Thornton the following story. "I commanded a battery of artillery and saw one of your men ... pile up some stones, then lie down behind them and take aim. Oh I said to myself you are a crack shot I suppose but I'll baulk you and I did for I pointed one of our guns at him myself and when the smoke cleared away, his parapet was in ruins and himself nowhere. I hope he ran away.”

2) When your people gave way, one brave fellow tried to stop them by waving the flag he carried and taking a few steps to his front. But it is not easy to rally raw troops as yours were, and only a few men answered to his call. One I well remember, for he fired twice at me and wore a black coat. We were in loose skirmishing order and being very anxious to capture the colour, I ran directly towards the bearer. Before I could reach him, he dropped the colour, evidently having received a wound and my friend with the black coat moved off also, though not till, with his third shot he gave me a scratch on the thigh. I got the colour which now hangs in the Chapel of Chelsea Hospital. My wound though slight made me stiff and I was glad to enter Washington on horseback.

3) Two adventures befell me there. I was limping past a house in a street near the Capitol when a window was opened and a negro woman invited me to enter. The family had quitted the town and the servants offered me all manner of good things. I was amused and told them I wanted nothing except a clean shirt having only one which I had worn since the 19th. A clean shirt was immediately provided which I put on leaving my dirty shirt to replace it.

4) On the 25th a hurricane fell on the city which unroofed houses and upset our three pounders guns. It upset me also, it fairly lifted me out of the saddle and the horse which I had been riding I never saw again.

This is surely gossip enough. When you see General Wilson again give him my best regards.

Believe me very sincerely yours

G. R. Gleig’


To be sold with:

A Narrative of the Campaigns of the British Army at Washington and New Orleans, under Generals Ross, Pakenham, and Lambert, in the Years 1814 and 1815; with some Account of the Countries Visited, ‘By an Officer who served in the Expedition’ [Gleig](John Murray, London, 1821, 1st edition), 8vo., 2ff., 377pp., original blue boards, contemporary signature in ink on front board, printed paper label on spine, and armorial bookplate pasted down on front, corners of boards bumped, text very clean, tight and untrimmed, rare £300-400

George Robert Gleig was born in 1796, the son of a Scottish clergyman who rose to be Bishop of Brechin. Educated at Glasgow, George went up to Balliol College, Oxford, about 1811, but swiftly dropped his studies in favour of military service:

‘The lad was educated under the wing of the ‘great mother of churchmen and Tories’, but was not satisfied with those opportunities for the display of the pugnacious principle which the rows of gown and town afforded to the youthful strutters of the High-street. A regiment chanced to pass through Oxford on its way to Lisbon. Our spark instanter bolted from his college, kicked his trencher-cap into the first ditch, joined the corps as a volunteer, and on landing had no difficulty in procuring an epaulette for his broad and stalwart shoulder.’

Thus followed active service as a young officer in the 85th Regiment, in which capacity Gleig was present at the siege of San Sebastian, the passage of the Bidassoa, the battle of Nivelle, where he was wounded twice, the battle of Nive, where he was again wounded, and finally the investment of Bayonne. Drawing on his experiences, Gleig later published The Subaltern, a book which received the favourable notice of the great Duke himself, and was sufficiently popular to run to several editions.

Meanwhile, said subaltern was ordered to America, and served at Bladensburg, Baltimore, New Orleans, the capture of Washington and of Fort Bowyer, and was twice wounded in the course of the campaign and, once again, wrote a personal narrative of his experiences. Nor did he turn a blind eye to the woeful leadership of some of his seniors, Sir George Prevost coming in for a broadside for his ‘imbecility’ in the conduct of the campaign in the north.

Having then landed with his regiment in France too late to see action at the battle of Waterloo, Gleig departed the army and resumed his studies at Oxford. Immediately afterwards ordained by the Archbishop of Canterbury, he was for some years a vicar in Kent, in which period he continued to write military histories and biographies. And he was onetime employed as secretary to the Duke of Wellington, ‘and had a great deal to do with editing the Wellington despatches’. Perhaps as a result of this post, Gleig later became Chaplain to Chelsea Hospital and, in 1846, he was appointed Chaplain-General of the Forces and Inspector-General of Military Schools, in which roles he served for nearly 30 years. One of the last survivors of the Peninsular War, he died in 1888.