Though I can think no man innocent who has lent his hand to destroy the country which he did not plant, and to ruin those that he could not enslave, yet, abstracted from all ideas of right and wrong on the original question, Captain Asgill, in the present case, is not the guilty man.The villain and the victim are here separated characters.You hold the one and we the other.You disown, or affect to disown and reprobate the conduct of Lippincut, yet you give him a sanctuary; and by so doing you as effectually become the executioner of Asgill, as if you had put the rope on his neck, and dismissed him from the world.Whatever your feelings on this interesting occasion may be are best known to yourself.Within the grave of your own mind lies buried the fate of Asgill.He becomes the corpse of your will, or the survivor of your justice.Deliver up the one, and you save the other; withhold the one, and the other dies by your choice.
On our part the case is exceeding plain; an officer has been taken from his confinement and murdered, and the murderer is within your lines.Your army has been guilty of a thousand instances of equal cruelty, but they have been rendered equivocal, and sheltered from personal detection.Here the crime is fixed; and is one of those extraordinary cases which can neither be denied nor palliated, and to which the custom of war does not apply; for it never could be supposed that such a brutal outrage would ever be committed.It is an original in the history of civilized barbarians, and is truly British.
On your part you are accountable to us for the personal safety of the prisoners within your walls.Here can be no mistake; they can neither be spies nor suspected as such; your security is not endangered, nor your operations subjected to miscarriage, by men immured within a dungeon.They differ in every circumstance from men in the field, and leave no pretence for severity of punishment.But if to the dismal condition of captivity with you must be added the constant apprehensions of death; if to be imprisoned is so nearly to be entombed; and if, after all, the murderers are to be protected, and thereby the crime encouraged, wherein do you differ from [American]
Indians either in conduct or character?
We can have no idea of your honor, or your justice, in any future transaction, of what nature it may be, while you shelter within your lines an outrageous murderer, and sacrifice in his stead an officer of your own.If you have no regard to us, at least spare the blood which it is your duty to save.Whether the punishment will be greater on him, who, in this case, innocently dies, or on him whom sad necessity forces to retaliate, is, in the nicety of sensation, an undecided question? It rests with you to prevent the sufferings of both.You have nothing to do but to give up the murderer, and the matter ends.
But to protect him, be he who he may, is to patronize his crime, and to trifle it off by frivolous and unmeaning inquiries, is to promote it.There is no declaration you can make, nor promise you can give that will obtain credit.It is the man and not the apology that is demanded.
You see yourself pressed on all sides to spare the life of your own officer, for die he will if you withhold justice.The murder of Captain Huddy is an offence not to be borne with, and there is no security which we can have, that such actions or similar ones shall not be repeated, but by ****** the punishment fall upon yourselves.To destroy the last security of captivity, and to take the unarmed, the unresisting prisoner to private and sportive execution, is carrying barbarity too high for silence.The evil must be put an end to; and the choice of persons rests with you.But if your attachment to the guilty is stronger than to the innocent, you invent a crime that must destroy your character, and if the cause of your king needs to be so supported, for ever cease, sir, to torture our remembrance with the wretched phrases of British honor, British generosity and British clemency.
From this melancholy circumstance, learn, sir, a lesson of morality.
The refugees are men whom your predecessors have instructed in wickedness, the better to fit them to their master's purpose.To make them useful, they have made them vile, and the consequence of their tutored villany is now descending on the heads of their encouragers.They have been trained like hounds to the scent of blood, and cherished in every species of dissolute barbarity.Their ideas of right and wrong are worn away in the constant habitude of repeated infamy, till, like men practised in execution, they feel not the value of another's life.
The task before you, though painful, is not difficult; give up the murderer, and save your officer, as the first outset of a necessary reformation.
COMMON SENSE.
PHILADELPHIA May 31, 1782.
