Chapter 12
CHAPTER XII. CAPTAIN GARLAND'S TESTIMONY ON THE SPOT. Captain Henry Garland was one of Jackson's young officers at New Orleans. In view of the brilliance and stirring eloquence of a speech made by him, which I am about to give, from the same chapter heretofore quoted from Buell, it will be interesting to give a digest of Buell's description of him. He was born at Nantes, France. His father a merchant of
Norfolk, Virginia, residing there as commercial agent for American importing houses. He received his education in French schools. Coming to America, he went to Tennessee, and in the War of 1812 volunteered in Coffee's Mounted Riflemen, serving with distinction throughout the war. In the latter part of March 1815, the officers of the Louisiana militia gave a banquet to those of the Tennessee, Kentucky, and Mississippi troops and the regulars on the eve of the disbandment
of Jackson's army. Captain Garland was selected by his comrades to respond in French on their behalf. The guests, said Buell, were welcomed on behalf of the Creole hosts and hostesses by Vicar General, the most reverend Abbey Duberg, Bishop of Louisiana, who made a brief address of welcome, first in English and then in French. In conclusion, the Abbey expressed sorrow that such an awful battle should have been fought and so many souls sent unprepared into the presence of
the Creator, two weeks after the Treaty of Peace had been signed on the other side of the ocean. According to Buell, the Abbey's remarks changed the whole character of Garland's reply. He spoke in French, which was afterwards translated. The writer recommends a full reading of this, at points, remarkably eloquent speech, from which some excerpts are here given. After some introductory remarks, Captain Garland said,
The most reverend Prelate, in his otherwise well-chosen remarks, suggested that it was a pity that such an awful battle should have been fought after the Treaty was signed across the wide water. I do not agree with him. It needed that battle to make the Treaty good. It made no difference when the Treaty was signed. Without that battle it must have been waste paper. The Treaty as written did not mean anything. It says that the territorial status quo
antebellum shall be observed. But the British cabinet held L'Arière Ponce about that. They never admitted Napoleon's right to convey Louisiana to us through President Jefferson. They did not mean to include the Louisiana Purchase in the territorial status quo antebellum. The Treaty signed in ink on the 24th of December was a cheat. But the Treaty that the pioneers of Tennessee and Kentucky punctuated with rifle bullets, the 8th of January, will stand.
The English diplomats at Ghent held, as I have said, L'Arière Ponce. But the British soldiers who lay down to die in front of Kentucky and Tennessee, the 8th of January, on Chalmette, plain were sincere and honest. It was their lifeblood that the real Treaty was written, not in the ink of Ghent. The English plan of subjugation was complete. Soon after the battle it was learned that General Pakenham had a proclamation written, signed and ready to be
promulgated the moment his army should enter the city. This proclamation denied the right of Napoleon to sell Louisiana, denounced the pretensions of the United States to its sovereignty, declared that Spain, the rightful possessor, was incapable of maintaining her territorial rights, and finally asserted a provisional occupation by the British forces as a virtual protectorate in behalf of the Spanish crown. The night after the battle this proclamation was burned.
It may have been used to illuminate the scene where the corpse of its author was being prepared for shipment to England in a cask of rum. It is commonly known that the night of January 7th a council of war was held in the British camp. It is also known to many that on that occasion Major General Sir Samuel Gibbs spoke of General Jackson's army as a backwoods rabble. He was right. That's what we are from the point of view of a British regular. We are backwoodsmen
because we were born and raised in little log cabins all along our great frontier. The mothers who gave us milk made their own clothes and ours too of homespun or a buckskin. As soon as we could lift a rifle we had to hunt our meat in the woods. Yes, we are backwoodsmen. And from the point of view of a British regular we are a rabble too. That is we are not soldiers in the regular sense of the term. We are not enlisted. We don't get any pay. We are simply assembled as
volunteers to defend our country. We have a kind of organization, it is true. But it is as independent companies composed of neighbors and our officers are simply those men whose characters and experience point them out as natural leaders. In one word we have no regulations except those of common sense. No discipline except that of common consent. No mastery one over the other except that of manhood. Such are the men who rallied from Tennessee and Kentucky when Andrew Jackson called.
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, they are a backwards rabble. They met, say, three times their number of soldiers who were the pride of England and the backwoods rabble laid that pride of England low. And now just one word more. Most people say that our American Republic was born the fourth day of July 1776 at Philadelphia. This is not true. It was only begotten then. It was born when Burgoyne surrendered at Saratoga. It was baptized when Cornwallis yielded at Yorktown. But it was never
confirmed, as they say in the religion of the Holy Savior, until the eighth of last January. That day saw not merely the repulse and destruction of a British army, but it taught the whole world a lesson never to be forgot. It needs not the gift of prophecy to foresee that the battle fought by Andrew Jackson and his backwoods rabble did more than repulse cowardly and treacherous invasion. It taught to all the princes and kings and emperors on the face
of the earth that they must let our young republic alone. Apart from his testimony as to Pakenham's intended proclamation and apart from his estimate of British diplomacy, the speech of Captain Garland is well worth preserving as a specimen of real patriotic eloquence. From the mass of evidence available to any earnest historian, the writer has selected one more witness whose testimony is compressed in an incidental paragraph. At the meeting of
the American Historical Association in New Orleans in 1903, Dr. W. M. Sloan read a paper entitled The World Aspects of the Louisiana Purchase. It is published in volume one of the Proceedings of the American Historical Association of 1903. In that paper, page 102 of proceedings above cited, appears this sentence, But for Jefferson's wisdom in explorating it, Louisiana might have remained a wilderness long after settlement began. Great Britain coveted it in 1815 when Jackson saved it.
There is a sentence compact with fact. Dr. William M. Sloan, now dead, was at the time of the address and for many years professor of history at Princeton University and a recognized authority on history. In all literature, there cannot be found a more concrete comprehensive line. Great Britain coveted it in 1815 when Jackson saved it. Pro-English historians may deftly turn and twist this and other facts to their purpose, but let me give a toxin call. Pro-English
historians should be kept out of our schools and young America taught only the ungarbled, unvarnished truth. End of chapter 12.
