September, the 11th day, 1817.
N. B. There are ten towns have read this letter, and this is the answer.
A true copy of the original.
WM. BELL, Aid-de-camp.
I should be very unwilling to assert, in regard to this war, that the fault was on our side; I fear it was. I have heard that a very respectable gentleman, now no more, who once filled the executive chair of Georgia, and who, having been agent of Indian affairs inthat quarter, had the best opportunity of judging of the origin of this war, deliberately pronounced it as his opinion, that the Indians were not in fault. I am far from attributing to general Jackson any other than the very slight degree of blame that attaches to him as the negotiator of the treaty of Fort Jackson, and will be shared by those who subsequently ratified and sanctioned that treaty. But if there be even a doubt as to the origin of the war, whether we were censurable or the Indians, that doubt will serve to increase our regret at any distressing incidents which may have occurred, and to mitigate, in some degree, the crimes which we impute to the other side. I know that when general Jackson was summoned to the field, it was too late to hesitate; the fatal blow had been struck, in the destruction of Fowl-town, and the dreadful massacre of lieutenant Scott and his detachment; and the only duty which remained to him, was to terminate this unhappy contest.
The first circumstance which, in the course of his performing that duty, fixed our attention, has filled me with regret. It was the execution of the Indian chiefs. How, I ask, did they come into our possession? Was it in the course of fair, and open, and honorable war? No; but by means of deception—by hoisting foreign colors on the staff from which the stars and stripes should alone have floated. Thus ensnared, the Indians were taken on shore; and without ceremony, and without delay, were hung. Hang an Indian! We, sir, who are civilized, and can comprehend and feel the effect of moral causes and considerations, attach ignominy to that mode of death. And the gallant, and refined, and high-minded man, seeks by all possible means to avoid it. But what cares an Indian whether you hang or shoot him? The moment he is captured, he is considered by his tribe as disgraced, if not lost. They, too, are indifferent about the manner in which he is despatched. But I regard the occurrence with grief, for other and higher considerations. It was the first instance that I know of, in the annals of our country, in which retaliation, by executing Indian captives, has ever been deliberately practiced. There may have been exceptions, but if there are, they met with contemporaneous condemnation, and have been reprehended by the just pen of impartial history. The gentleman from Massachusetts may tell me, if he chooses, what he pleases about the tomahawk and scalping knife; about Indian enormities, and foreign miscreants and incendiaries. I, too, hate them; from my very soul I abominate them. But I love my country, and its constitution; I love liberty and safety, and fear military despotism more, even, than I hate these monsters. The gentleman, in the course of his remarks, alluded to the state from which I have the honor to come. Little, sir, does he know of the high and magnanimous sentiments of the people of that state, if he supposes they will approve of the transaction to which he referred. Brave and generous, humanity andclemency towards a fallen foe constitute one of their noblest characteristics. Amidst all the struggles for that fair land, between the natives and the present inhabitants, I defy the gentleman to point out one instance, in which a Kentuckian has stained his hand by—nothing but my high sense of the distinguished services and exalted merits of general Jackson, prevents my using a different term—the execution of an unarmed and prostrate captive. Yes, there is one solitary exception, in which a man, enraged at beholding an Indian prisoner who had been celebrated for his enormities, and who had destroyed some of his kindred, plunged his sword into his bosom. The wicked deed was considered as an abominable outrage when it occurred, and the name of the man has been handed down to the execration of posterity. I deny your right thus to retaliate on the aboriginal proprietors of the country; and unless I am utterly deceived, it may be shown that it does not exist. But before I attempt this, allow me to make the gentleman from Massachusetts a little better acquainted with those people, to whose feelings and sympathies he has appealed through their representative. During the late war with Great Britain, colonel Campbell, under the command of my honorable friend from Ohio (general Harrison), was placed at the head of a detachment, consisting chiefly, I believe, of Kentucky volunteers, in order to destroy the Mississinaway towns. They proceeded and performed the duty, and took some prisoners. And here is the evidence of the manner in which they treated them.
‘But the character of this gallant detachment, exhibiting, as it did, perseverance, fortitude, and bravery, would, however, be incomplete, if, in the midst of victory, they had forgotten the feelings of humanity. It is with the sincerest pleasure that the general has heard, that the most punctual obedience was paid to his orders, in not only saving all the women and children, but in sparing all the warriors who ceased to resist: and that even when vigorously attacked by the enemy, the claims of mercy prevailed over every sense of their own danger, and this heroic band respected the lives of their prisoners. Let an account of murdered innocence be opened in the records of heaven, against our enemies alone. The American soldier will follow the example of his government, and the sword of the one will not be raised against the fallen and the helpless, nor the gold of the other be paid for scalps of a massacred enemy.’
I hope, sir, the honorable gentleman will now be able better to appreciate the character and conduct of my gallant countrymen, than he appears hitherto to have done.
But, sir, I have said that you have no right to practice, under color of retaliation, enormities on the Indians. I will advance in support of this position, as applicable to the origin of all law, the principle, that whatever has been the custom, from the commencement of a subject, whatever has been the uniform usage, coeval and coexistent with the subject to which it relates, becomes its fixed law. Such is the foundation of all common law; and such, I believe, is the principal foundation of all public or international law. If, then, it can be shown that from the first settlement of thecolonies, on this part of the American continent, to the present time, we have constantly abstained from retaliating upon the Indians the excesses practiced by them towards us, we are morally bound by this invariable usage, and cannot lawfully change it without the most cogent reasons. So far as my knowledge extends, from the first settlement at Plymouth or at Jamestown, it has not been our practice to destroy Indian captives, combatants or non-combatants. I know of but one deviation from the code which regulates the warfare between civilized communities, and that was the destruction of Indian towns, which was supposed to be authorized upon the ground that we could not bring the war to a termination but by destroying the means which nourished it. With this single exception, the other principles of the laws of civilized nations are extended to them, and are thus made law in regard to them. When did this humane custom, by which, in consideration of their ignorance, and our enlightened condition, the rigors of war were mitigated, begin? At a time when we were weak, and they comparatively strong; when they were the lords of the soil, and we were seeking, from the vices, from the corruptions, from the religious intolerance, and from the oppressions of Europe, to gain an asylum among them. And when is it proposed to change this custom, to substitute for it the bloody maxims of barbarous ages, and to interpolate the Indian public law with revolting cruelties? At a time when the situation of the two parties is totally changed—when we are powerful and they are weak—at a time when, to use a figure drawn from their own sublime eloquence, the poor children of the forest have been driven by the great wave which has flowed in from the Atlantic ocean almost to the base of the Rocky mountains, and, overwhelming them in its terrible progress, has left no other remains of hundreds of tribes, now extinct, than those which indicate the remote existence of their former companion, the mammoth of the new world! Yes, sir, it is at this auspicious period of our country, when we hold a proud and lofty station among the first nations of the world, that we are called upon to sanction a departure from the established laws and usages which have regulated our Indian hostilities. And does the honorable gentleman from Massachusetts expect, in this august body, this enlightened assembly of christians and Americans, by glowing appeals to our passions, to make us forget our principles, our religion, our clemency, and our humanity? Why is it that we have not practiced towards the Indian tribes the right of retaliation, now for the first time asserted in regard to them? It is because it is a principle proclaimed by reason, and enforced by every respectable writer on the law of nations, that retaliation is only justifiable as calculated to produce effect in the war. Vengeance is a new motive for resorting to it. If retaliation will produce no effect on the enemy, we are bound to abstain from it by every consideration of humanityand of justice. Will it then produce effect on the Indian tribes? No; they care not about the execution of those of their warriors who are taken captive. They are considered as disgraced by the very circumstance of their captivity, and it is often mercy to the unhappy captive to deprive him of his existence. The poet evinced a profound knowledge of the Indian character, when he put into the mouth of a son of a distinguished chief, about to be led to the stake and tortured by his victorious enemy, the words:
‘Begin, ye tormentors! your threats are in vain: