We think the speech of Weatherford, one of the Creek war-chiefs, engaged against General Jackson, an equally fine example of their oratory, while it illustrates the remarkable dignity of mind which enabled him to support his humiliating position with such grandeur. It was after our doughty General had nearly annihilated the tribes in his department, the Indians, seeing all resistance at an end, came forward and made their submission; Weatherford, however, and many who were known to be desperate, still holding out.
General Jackson, determined to test the fidelity of those chiefs who had already submitted, ordered them to deliver, without delay, Weatherford, bound, into his hands, to be dealt with as he deserved. When they made known to the sachem what was required of them, his high spirit would not submit to such degradation; and, to hold them harmless, he resolved to give himself up without compulsion.
Accordingly, he proceeded to the American camp, unknown, until he appeared before the commanding General, to whose presence, under some pretence, he gained admission. Jackson was greatly surprised when the chief said:
"I am Weatherford, the chief who commanded at the capture of Fort Mimms. I desire peace for my people, and have come to ask it."
The General had doubtless resolved upon his execution, when he should be brought, bound; but, his unexpected appearance in this manner, saved him; he said to the chief that he was astonished at his venturing to appear in his presence, as he was not ignorant of the warrior having been at Fort Mimms, nor of his inhuman conduct there, for which he richly deserved to die.
"I ordered," continued the General, "that you should be brought to me bound; had you been brought as I ordered, I should have known how to treat you."
In answer to this, Weatherford replied:
"I am in your power; do with me as you please; I am a soldier. I have done the whites all the harm I could. I have fought them, and fought them bravely. Had I an army, I would yet fight—I would contend to the last; but, I have none. My people are all gone. I can only weep over the misfortunes of my nation."
Jackson was of too audacious a nature himself, not to be pleased with this fellow, and told him that he would take no advantage of his present situation; that he might yet join the war-party, and contend against the Americans, if he chose, but to depend upon no quarter, if taken; and that unconditional submission was his, and his people's only safety. Weatherford rejoined, in a tone both dignified and indignant:
"You can safely address me in such terms, now. There was a time when I could have answered—there was a time when I had a choice—I have none now. I have not even a hope. I could once animate my warriors to the battle—but I can not animate the dead. My warriors can no longer hear my voice. Their bones are at Talladega, Tallashatches, Emucklaw, and Tohopeka. I have not surrendered myself without thought. While there was a single chance of success, I never left my post nor supplicated peace. But my people are gone; and I now ask it, for my nation, not for myself. I look back with deep sorrow, and wish to avert still greater calamities. If I had been left to contend with the Georgian army, I would have raised my corn on one bank of the river and fought them on the other. But your people have destroyed my nation. You are a brave man. I rely on your generosity. You will exact no terms of a conquered people, but such as they should accede to. Whatever they may be, it would now be madness and folly to oppose them. If they are opposed, you will find me among the sternest enforcers of obedience. Those, who would still hold out, can be influenced only by a mean spirit of revenge. To this, they must not, and shall not, sacrifice the last remnant of their country. You have told our nation where we might go and be safe. This, is good talk, and they ought to listen to it. They shall listen to it."